"Right of who?" said Catch-a-Tick. "Moles?"
"Not r-i-g-h-t," said Fronto, "but r-i-t-e. We poets call that a homonym. It sounds the same, but it's different. Immolation-they were going to sacrifice him."
"They made it out to be a wonderful opportunity," said Bromios. "Not every king was so lucky."
"Bromios," Joy-in-the-Dance said, "didn't you understand? They were going to kill you."
"Not permanently," said Bromios. "They explained it very clearly. In the olden days, when things went badly, to set them right again the king gave his life for his people. But-and here's the best part-after he's sacrificed, he goes to the Great Hall of the Sky Bear; feasting, revelry, merrymaking, all he could want. Then he comes back here, good as new. I'd have a star named for me, too. Even a whole constellation."
"You didn't believe them, did you?" said Lucian.
"Well, yes, I did. At first," said Bromios. "But after I thought it over for a couple of days, I didn't much fancy the idea. I'm a warrior, I've seen dead people. They didn't look in any kind of shape to do anything, let alone come back to life. A king, now, maybe that's different. Or maybe not. Even so, I got to wondering: Suppose something goes wrong? Suppose I lose my way to the Great Hall? Or who knows what? Do I just drift around forever? It's an honor having stars named after you, but cold comfort, when you come right down to it. I thanked them for the opportunity but said I'd decided to pass it up.
"They told me it was too late," Bromios continued. "I was already marked down for sacrifice. They set a guard over me, then. To make sure no harm came to me while they got ready for the ceremony. Well, I didn't want any part of it. I knocked a couple of heads together and slipped out of the palace.
"They sent warriors-my own troops!-after me. Once, they nearly caught me. They're still hunting me, like some sort of animal. I've been running ever since, hiding in bushes and burrows, with hardly a wink of sleep, nor bite of food, nor drop to drink."
The king's burly shoulders sagged. "Where can I go? What can I do? If I could only talk to the pythoness again, plead with her to have mercy and save me. But she's gone. I'm lost. I'll be a constellation, like it or not."
"Bromios," Joy-in-the-Dance said quietly, "I'm Woman Who-Talks-to-Snakes."
"Don't mock me," Bromios moaned. "That's a cruel joke."
"It takes a while to get used to the idea," said Lucian, "but it's true. She's also the daughter of the Lady of Wild Things."
"No such person," Bromios said. "She doesn't exist."
"My mother would be surprised to hear that. As for my being the pythoness-listen." She raised an arm to screen her face with the cloak and began, "O Bromios, Bromios, your life-threads are spun-"
"That voice! Those words!" The king's jaw dropped and he clapped his hands to his head. "You? It's you?" As the girl nodded, Bromios gave a cry and threw himself at her feet. "Forgive me! Have mercy!"
"Forgiveness is something you'd have to talk over with my mother," said Joy-in-the-Dance. "Mercy? You're welcome to mine, if it makes you feel better. In a practical sense, it won't much help you."
"Nor will we," put in Oudeis. "Frankly, your pathetic tale doesn't tug at my heart. You've taken our time, eaten our food, and I think you'd best shove off. We're in a hurry. The jackass here has to reach Callista-"
"The island?" Bromios stopped groveling and looked up eagerly. "I'd be safe there. They'd never find me."
"Oudeis," Joy-in-the-Dance began, "talking about practical help, do you suppose we could bring him along?
"Absolutely not," declared Oudeis. "It's bad enough shipping out with an ass. No runaway kings."
"He's a sorry example of a king, I admit," said Ops. "But he's still a person."
"Noble soul!" cried Bromios, seizing Ops by the hand. "Thank you for those words. What royalty of spirit! I wish I'd had some of it."
"Fronto's the one to decide," put in Lucian. "He's the most concerned. He should say who goes and who doesn't."
"I have to agree with Ops," said Fronto, after some moments. "There's not much king in him, but he is a human being. Which is more than I can say for myself. Yes, take him with us."
"Dearest friend!" Bromios flung his arm around Fronto's neck. "What did you say your name was? Calchas and Phobos never had a good word for poets. Idle, untrustworthy riffraff is what they called them. I see they were wrong about that, too."
If Bromios resembled little of his former self, Oudeis tried to make him even less so. With his knife, the ship master hacked at the king's hair and beard, stained his face with berry juice, and set Fronto's straw hat to shadow his brow.
"Best I can do," said Oudeis while Bromios underwent the ship master’s finishing touches in patient silence.
"There's a lot of him, and I can't change his size. But, if he keeps his trap shut and doesn't call attention to himself, he'll pass well enough for an upcountry lout."
Next morning, they set off again, Bromios striding between Fronto and Ops, his newest and dearest companions. As the king's spirits revived, so did his appetite. The remaining supplies and what Joy-in-the-Dance could gather did nothing to take the edge off it. No sooner had he downed his portion than he looked around, hopefully licking his chops. When Ops thought no one was watching, he handed the king a good share of his own rations. As it turned out, so did Lucian and everyone else.
For the most part, Bromios was pathetically grateful and anxious to be helpful. From time to time, however, he forgot he was a runaway sacrifice. Each time his thoughts turned to Calchas and Phobos, he growled and muttered, threatened awful punishments, kicked tree trunks, and snapped branches as if they were the soothsayers necks. After offering to tend the fire, he usually let it go out; or neglected to clean the pot, as Oudeis ordered; or made messes, which he regally ignored.
"It's rather like having a tame bear for a pet," Fronto observed. "You can't help being fond of him, but you keep wishing he were a cat."
No one, however, not even Oudeis, suggested abandoning him. The ship master, at first, had feared that Bromios would hinder them. On the contrary, the royal sacrifice set such a pace that they reached the outskirts of Metara two days sooner than Oudeis reckoned. As he promised, Oudeis did not venture into the city. Instead, he turned off and took a roundabout way seaward, following the narrow beach in the shadow of high cliffs. Not long after midday, the harbor opened in front of them.
"The port-just as you told me, Aiee-Ouch!" Catch-a-Tick stared, round-eyed. "The boats-herds of them! And people-I've never seen so many all at once!"
There were, in fact, fewer passersby than Lucian expected. Among the vessels at the landing stages, only one was being offloaded, and none taking on cargo. Many shops stood empty; the stalls of fishmongers and vegetable sellers displayed hardly any wares. Oudeis stopped in front of the first tavern they came to and motioned them to go in.
"Wait for me there," the ship master ordered. "I'll be back in no time, with money in my purse and quick passage out. No, not you," he told Fronto, who had started for the tavern. "Stand outside. You're still an ass, so behave like a proper one."
"I'll stay with him," Lucian said as Oudeis hurried down to the waterfront and the others led Bromios through the tavern door.
Fronto had trotted a little way along the street, where he gazed anxiously seaward. "I pray Earth-Shaker gives us a speedy voyage. We'll reach Callista none too soon. Haw! Haw! There-haw!-it goes again. Dear boy, I'm more donkey than ever."
"You're tired, overexcited." Lucian put as much assurance as possible into words he did not entirely believe. He was much aware that Fronto had been snorting and braying more than usual.
"Trust Oudeis," he said, patting Fronto's neck. "If he promised to get you there-"
"Thief!" roared a voice in Lucian's ear.
A heavy hand gripped him by the scruff of the neck. Shaken and buffeted, Lucian was roughly spun around to find himself nose to nose with Cerdo.
24 - The Hall of Sacrifice
"The donkey robber!" Cerdo
shook him until his teeth I rattled. "Got you! I'll teach you to steal my beast." Lucian scuffled free of the merchant's grip. "Not yours! He's mine!"
"Liar! There's my brand on his rump. I'll have him back, and I'll have your hide into the bargain!"
Fronto, horrified to recognize his brutal master, bucked and reared, braying at the top of his lungs. Seeing the enraged merchant start after Lucian again, the poet laid back his ears and snapped his jaws, nipping whatever parts of Cerdo he could reach.
"Help! Help!" bawled the merchant as Fronto's attack from behind rousted him off his feet. "Save me! It's a killer jackass!"
A handful of waterfront idlers had already gathered; passersby, sniffing possible amusement, hurried to watch as Cerda, scrambling up, seized Fronto's tail while Lucian clung to his neck, and both hauled in opposite directions. The commotion had also caught the attention of a mounted patrol of warriors, who plunged their horses through the crowd.
"Arrest him!" Cerda stabbed an accusing finger at Lucian. "He stole my property. This ass is from my pack train. There's the rest of them, down there." He waved toward the dock where goods were being unloaded. "You look at the brand on him. And this young villain-he's a runaway from the palace."
"I'm a soldier, not a judge. This is a case for a magistrate Here, now, just hold on a minute." The captain had been eying Lucian. "I've seen this fellow before."
"Not me," blurted Lucian. "I'm somebody else."
"I commandeered his donkey as royal property, then it got stolen from me. This is a murky business," the officer added. "Until it's settled, I'm impounding the ass. You, too, my fine fellow. You'll both come along with me."
"By thunder, no, they won't!"
Bromios had shouldered his way past the onlookers, with Joy-in-the-Dance tugging at his cloak and Ops doing his best to hold him back.
"What's one of my troop captains doing in a wrangle over a jackass?" Bromios put his hands on his hips and thrust out his jaw. "Back off. Get about your duties. Let him be, he's my friend. The lad, too. They all are," he went on while Joy-in-the-Dance kept signaling him to hold his tongue.
The officer squinted and rubbed his eyes. "Your Majesty?"
"Who else?" shouted Bromios. "Are you deaf as well as blind? I gave you an order. Do it, blast you! I'm your king."
The onlookers gasped and drew back. The officer hesitated, shifting uneasily on his mount. "Your Majesty in this case, your soothsayers are authorities even higher than you. Their command-if you're found, you're to be escorted to the palace."
"Nobody's escorting anybody anywhere," said Joy-in-the-Dance. "Don't try anything," whispered Lucian. "They'll find out who you are." The captain had drawn his sword. Bromios strode up to him. "You dare threaten me?"
"Not you, Majesty," said the officer. "You're the royal sacrifice. Your person is sacred. Forgive me, but I have to take you in. If your friends hinder me, I'll have my men cut them down. You come quietly, Majesty, and they go free."
Bromios glared and chewed his lips. At last, he nodded. "So be it." His face wrinkled as he turned to embrace Joy-in-the-Dance, Lucian, and Ops, and he patted Catch-a-Tick on the head. He laid a stubbly cheek on Fronto's nose. "A swift and happy voyage, friend. You did your best for me, all of you.
"Eh, eh, no glooming," he added. "I'll be back good as new. You'll see some changes, then, starting with Calchas and Phobos. If not-well, you look for my star. I'll wink at you, so you'll know it's me."
"My property!" squealed Cerda as the king swung up behind the captain. "Find a magistrate." The officer waved him aside. "I've got more important business."
The patrol closed around Bromios and galloped off. Helpless to stop them, Lucian turned to face a closer, louder threat: Cerda, bawling for watchmen and constables.
"Get him off the street," Lucian ordered, "before he stirs up the whole port."
Between them, Lucian and Ops hauled the sputtering merchant into the tavern and flung him down on a stool. "I'll deal with this," said Joy-in-the-Dance. "Listen to me, Cerda. One peep and I'll do something you won't like."
"Thieves! Villains!" yelled Cerda. "I'll have the law on all of you."
"Don't say I didn't warn you." Joy-in-the-Dance made quick gestures at the merchant. "Here, look. How awful! See-Oh, this is dreadful! Your beard's on fire. The flames! They're going up your nose."
Cerda screamed and beat his face with his hands.
"It's all right now. The fire's out. That really must have smarted," said Joy-in-the-Dance. "But you're going to keep your mouth shut, aren't you?" The terrified merchant nodded. "Good. Make sure you do."
Fronto, meantime, had trotted into the tavern. At the sight of a donkey in her establishment, the proprietress snatched up a broom. "No donkeys here! Out, out, shoo!"
That same instant, Oudeis burst through the door. "What's amiss? There's talk that Bromios was taken-" He stopped short and stared at the tavern mistress. "My honey-girl? Mirina?"
The stout, gray-haired woman dropped the broom and stared back. "Oudeis?" With a joyous outcry, she ran to fling her arms around him. "Where have you been? I've waited and waited for you all these years. This is my tavern. My uncle left me money to buy it. I've kept it for us. I'd almost lost hope-"
"Dearest Mirina, more beautiful than ever," exclaimed Oudeis, wiping a tear from his eye. "How I've longed for you. But, my sweet, when last we met I recall you threw a pot at my head, tossed crockery at me, laid into me with a broom-"
"Numbskull!" retorted Mirina. "It didn't mean wanted you to go away."
"No matter, I'm home to stay," said Oudeis. "Almost." He turned to Fronto. "I have a ship. We sail for Callista on the morning tide."
"What?" Mirina picked up the broom and shook it at Oudeis. "Sail where? You wretch, I've turned down a dozen offers of marriage for your sake. Don't you talk to me about sailing."
"Please, please, my little darling, I'll explain it later." Oudeis turned back to Fronto. "You're in luck. It's the only vessel I could get. Nothing else for weeks. It's your best chance; and, I daresay, your last.
"Sweet one," Oudeis added, "bar the door. No intruders. Now, quick, what's this about Bromios?"
"Don't be alarmed to hear me speak," Fronto whispered to Mirina. "You see, something quite astonishing happened."
"With that here-today-gone-tomorrow Oudeis home when I'd about given him up for dead," replied Mirina, "nothing astonishes me, least of all a talking jackass."
"Oudeis, it's true," Lucian said. "Bromios ran out to help Fronto and me. A patrol recognized him. He gave himself up so they wouldn't arrest us. Cerdo, that scoundrel sitting there, set off the whole thing."
"I'm truly sorry." Oudeis sadly shook his head. "I'd grown fond of the lout. At the last, he did you a good tum. For us, now: We go aboard after nightfall-"
"They're going to kill Bromios," Lucian broke in. "Don't you understand? We can't let them."
"Lad, that's out of our hands," replied Oudeis.
"Not if I can help it," put in Joy-in-the-Dance. "There has to be a way to save him. If we can get to him-"
"What?" cried Oudeis. "Have you lost your wits? You, the pythoness? They'll kill you along with Bromios. And you, too," he added to Lucian. "And you, jackass, you can't risk a delay. And there you have three good reasons not to set foot in the palace even if you could."
"And one best reason why we have to," said Joy-in-the-Dance. "Listen to me, Oudeis. If Bromios is sacrificed, who rules Arkadia? Calchas and Phobos, of course. They'll claim they're just looking after things until Bromios comes back. Which he won't. Meantime, you'll have disaster worse than ever.
"But if we rescue him," she went on, "he'll have learned a good lesson. He'll have sense enough to get rid of that pair. He said he wanted to take back all his decrees. He can't do that if he's dead, can he?"
"I'm not a statesman," said Oudeis. "That's no business of mine."
"Oh, yes it is." Mirina shook the broom at him. "I've heard of new laws in store that won't let women own so muc
h as a stick of property. And there goes my tavern. You want to sail to Callista? All right, I'll wait for you again. But if you won't help this young lady, who seems a lot cleverer than you, I'll do more than throw a pot at you."
"There's still another best reason," put in Fronto. "Bromios called us his friends. Poor fellow, at this point we're the only friends he has."
"Stop, enough!" cried Oudeis. "Yes, I admit it goes against my grain to do nothing for the poor lubber. But what? You tell me that and I'm with you."
"To begin with, we have to get inside the palace," Lucian said. "I know how to do it."
"Of course you do," said Catch-a-Tick.
"Cerdo's a royal purveyor," Lucian went on. "He's in and out all the time. He'll take us along with his pack train. No one will question him."
"Aiee-Ouch," said Joy-in-the-Dance, "for once you have an interesting idea."
Cerda opened his mouth to protest but closed it rapidly at a look from Joy-in-the-Dance. "You will do exactly as you're told," she said. "Otherwise, you'll have more than your beard on fire."
"There's a stableman," Lucian continued. "Menyas, an old friend of mine. He'll help us if anyone can."
"Aye, lad, I'll give you credit," Oudeis admitted, after a moment. "You could be on to something that might work. So far, so good. Now, let's say we get ourselves into the palace. What next?"
"After that," said Lucian, "what we do is-yes, well, what we do is," he paused and shook his head "I haven't the least idea."
"Oh, a marvelous plan," retorted Oudeis, rolling his eyes. "Better than nothing," said Joy-in-the-Dance. "We'll do it."
"We will?" said Lucian.
With Ops on one side of Cerda and Joy-in-the-Dance on the other to prod the merchant along, they left the tavern and hurried down the waterfront. Mirina had insisted on joining them to keep an eye on Oudeis. "I've waited this long for the footloose rogue, I'm not letting him out of my sight."
The merchant's pack animals were already laden with bales and baskets. Tethered one behind the other, a couple of mules, a swaybacked horse, and eight or nine scrawny donkeys waited in gloomy resignation.
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