Never before had he seen or touched anything of the kind, and yet he had not the least doubt of what it was. It was shaped like a mask, or rather a fragment of a mask, large enough to cover about half a human face. From near the middle of the fragment, a single transparent eye stared back at the man who clutched it in his hands.
Again Alex uttered a strange noise, born of joy, astonishment, and fear. Young Icarus, alarmed by Alex's behavior, jumped to his feet also, and backed away.
For a short and yet unmeasurable time the young man stood there, holding the object that he could not doubt contained the powers of a god. For the moment it seemed impossible to breathe.
The moonlight seemed to show that some substance, or some kind of energy, inside the Face of Dionysus was engaged in rapid movement—a ceaseless, rapid flow of something that might have been ice-clear water, or even light itself.
Inside the semi-transparent object, the waves of—of something—kept reflecting from the edges, top to bottom, side to side, and they went on and on, crossing and recrossing one another in the middle without any sign of weakening.
The most prominent feature of the Face was the single eye—the left—carved or molded from the same piece of strange, warm, flexible stuff . . . around the whole irregular perimeter of translucent shard, edges were somewhat jagged . . . small projections bent easily, springing back to original shape as soon as pressure released.
Alex became aware that the mere touch of the fragment was producing a pleasant sensation, an eerie tingling, in his hands, and the spot on his leg where it had landed still felt warm.
And, just as he knew the identity of the object that he was holding, he was aware, without the least doubt, of what he was required to do next.
The decision to put on the Face was really no decision at all, because it was obviously what the princess must have wanted him to do—otherwise she would not have given it to him.
But Alex had some idea of what to expect from a Face. So at the last moment, even as he raised the tingling thing toward his own eyes and nose and forehead, and despite the joy and determination with which he did so, he had an intimation of something of what a suicide must feel.
But that pang endured only for a moment. He ignored the Artisan's son, who in his childish voice was babbling something that might have been intended as a warning. Alex breathed a certain name, and pressed the transparent thing against his countenance, so that his own left eye looked out through the corresponding transparent lens of the Face of Dionysus.
And instantly something began to happen to him. He was undergoing a transformation that was simultaneously tremendous, marvelous, and horrible.
Chapter Nineteen
For the remainder of the day I, Asterion, continued my search for Edith. But she was gone, beyond my power to locate in a few hours, and as the time passed I had to admit to myself that she had very likely been recaptured.
Of course it was still possible that the girl had only fled deeper into the Labyrinth, beyond the range of my comparatively brief search. I hoped that when I had the chance to sleep again, a dream would reveal her fate. But for the moment I was helpless to do anything.
Her loss affected me strongly. Despite the short time that we had been together, I had a strong impression that she had been learning to trust me, perhaps even to feel some regard for me—
Looking at what I have just written, I see a hopelessly inadequate attempt to express profound complications. But if I were to write that Edith had begun to develop an attachment to me, beyond simple gratitude, how idiotic that would sound.
Let me stick to the facts. She had begun to tell me something of her ordinary life, before the dreadful conscription of the Tribute had taken her away from home, and I got the impression that as a girl she had been happy. She'd been destined from childhood to serve some god or goddess, and eventually had somehow become attached to the service of Apollo.
At one point in our talk I asked her, "Have you ever seen him, girl?"
"Who?" It took her a moment to understand. "The god? Apollo himself?" Just the thought was enough to make her wide-eyed. "Never. Have you . . . ?"
"No. Not I."
The bull with its divine rider had disappeared into the sky above the distant sea-horizon, in the direction of Corycus. Around Ariadne and Theseus, on the deck of the pirate ship, most of the crew were daring to raise their eyes again.
"What happened?" Ariadne breathlessly demanded of her companion. "What did he say to you? What did he want?"
For the time of several breaths after Ariadne had asked her question there was no sound but the whine of wind and the whisper of water past the hull.
The princess was not in a mood to cultivate patience. "What happened?" she demanded again. "What did Shiva have to say to you?" From the edges of her vision she could see that all the faces of the crew were turned toward her.
Theseus, still wearing only the loincloth in which he had won the fight, was standing braced on the deck, his bare feet planted wide apart. For a long moment he said nothing, only shaking his head slightly, staring after the departing form. Then, turning aside, he barked orders at his crew, commanding them to man the oars, establish a change of course. "We are going to Dia!"
As the helmsman bent over the compass-pyx, Theseus turned his face back to Ariadne, looking at her with a strange, unreadable expression. But still he had not replied to her questions.
The princess was not accustomed to such rudeness. "Are you going to tell me or not? It seemed a long time that he held you in the air. What in the Underworld did he want?"
When her companion's answer came at last, his voice was so low that she could barely hear it. "He told me that I am to become a god."
Again a silence fell aboard the ship.
Almost within arm's reach—it seemed to Ariadne that everything on the small ship was almost within arm's reach—some of the crew were pulling at their oars, aiming the ship into what little wind there was. Meanwhile others tugged at lines to get the lowered sail properly out of the way. They had gone back to work at the captain's orders, and were obeying his instructions, being too much afraid of him to do anything else. Meanwhile there was no doubt that they were also listening avidly to the conversation, knowing that their own lives and fortunes were surely at stake in any dealings that their master had with gods.
"Are you joking?" was the next question that burst from Ariadne's lips. She was painfully aware that sun and salt were cracking her lips and spoiling her skin. Her fine linen dress was gone, dissolved into threads and rags, her present clothing a haphazard collection of rags extorted by her companion from several members of the crew. At the moment she was fully conscious of how little she resembled the beautiful princess who had awakened in her palace bedroom only a few mornings ago. If she were to appear at the gate of the palace in her present condition, no one would recognize her.
"Not at all," said Theseus. Now she could see just how elated he was, and how grimly serious in his delight. For the first time the princess realized that, though her lover could smile and laugh as readily as any man, she could not remember him ever making a joke.
She was still angry at him, and felt a growing disgust with her whole situation. "And how and when is this great transformation supposed to take place?"
"As to how, simply enough. I have been told where the Face of a god can almost certainly be found, and Shiva wants me to go there and get it and put it on. As to when this will take place, within the next few days."
"Which god are you to be?" was Ariadne's next question. It came out in a small voice.
"Does it matter?" Now his triumph was beginning to show more plainly. She had to face the fact that the look he gave her was actually scornful. "Actually it's Dionysus. Gods and demons, but you're starting to look strange with your nose peeling like that."
"So, Shiva himself promised you this?"
"Shiva himself." And Theseus, shaking his noble head, drew what sounded like a deep breath of pride.
<
br /> "So Shiva told you this." Somehow she couldn't believe it.
"Are you deaf? That's what I said."
The more Ariadne thought about the strange claims her companion was making, the less she liked them. "Of course it matters! You're not going to be—you can't be—allied with something like Shiva! Not with the demon who killed my father!"
"Shiva didn't kill him." This man had a way of saying things that made them supremely convincing. Sometimes, she had observed, he applied this talent to things she knew were false.
Ariadne was not going to be meekly convinced, and her attitude showed in her look. "I suppose the Destroyer himself told you that as well."
This irritated Theseus. "We had other things to talk about."
"Such as what?"
The Prince of Pirates ignored the question. "As for your father, were you there that night in the palace?" he demanded. "Did you see what happened?"
"I saw my father's body!" As Ariadne spoke, the ship fell smoothly away from under her feet, starting down a swell, her hungry stomach lurched, and for a moment of distant horror she wondered if she was going to be seasick. "My sister and I both saw that."
Theseus, still clinging with one hand to one of the lines that thinly webbed the single mast, seemed oblivious to the plunging of the ship, as he was to so much else. "But you didn't see how he died."
"That was plain enough. He died of . . . horrible injuries." Her outrage had grown so great that she could hardly speak. "Injuries that looked like sword wounds."
"There you are. Shiva strikes down his enemies with a beam of fire. He never carries a sword."
"Not only his enemies does he strike, but a lot of innocent bystanders as well. He would have cheerfully devoured you, had we not escaped."
Theseus was not moved by her arguments, but he had paused. Now she could perceive in his face a shade of something uglier than sheer indifference. He said, "He didn't devour me, as you put it, just now when he had the chance. Instead, he has chosen me as his ally. And what makes you so sure that Shiva is really your enemy? He hasn't hurt your sister, has he?"
"Phaedra may be dead by now, for all I know. Burned to a crisp, or tortured in a cage. He's allied with my uncle, isn't he?"
"So's the whole army back there, and you still have friends among them. I don't say that your uncle is totally innocent, maybe he's not, but why do you accuse Shiva? You admit you didn't see what happened to your father. They say your father also called up a god on that night."
"No, I didn't see him killed with my own eyes. But I had a . . . reliable report."
That made him frown. "A report from who?"
Ariadne didn't care to answer that.
"So, you won't tell me?" But Theseus, hanging with one hand on a rope that ran up to the mast, his eyes probing the horizon, spoke only out of habit, trying to force everyone else to do his will. He really was not interested sufficiently to try to force an answer. Now Ariadne could see that his thoughts had already turned sharply away from her and all her questions. Doubtless he was imagining the glorious adventures that would come within his grasp when he became a god.
But she wasn't going to let him get away that easily. "So, you think you are going to be Dionysus. Why would Shiva grant you such a favor?"
"That's easy enough. No Face can lie around indefinitely unworn, everyone knows that. Some divine power, some kind of law, keeps them all from getting really lost. Sooner or later someone's bound to find it and put it on. And the Lord Shiva would rather see the Face of Dionysus worn by someone he can depend on as a useful ally."
After a pause, Theseus advised her offhandedly, "If the report that worries you came from your brother, I wouldn't put too much reliance on it. He wasn't there either. He dreams things, and then imagines they are real."
Ariadne said coldly, "Sometimes they are. Very real indeed." But despite her anger, a seed of uncertainty had been planted. Theseus's point about the army was well taken—officers and men who called themselves her friends were still willing to serve the usurper and his new god. And she really knew almost nothing about the young soldier—Alex something—who had claimed to have seen what had happened.
Her quest for love and adventure had landed her in a sea of uncertainty. But it came to her with a rush of emotion that there was one man she must never doubt. Her lover, the only man she had ever allowed to know her body. Theseus was so handsome, and at this very moment he was looking at her, so intently that her knees felt weak.
The Island of Dia had a much smoother coastline than the Island of Refuge, besides being enormously larger, with perhaps a hundred times the area, and several thousand permanent inhabitants. There was nothing that could really be called a city. The last time there had been a strong central government was so long ago that memories were vague. The most prominent topographical feature was a range of tall, rugged hills, locally called mountains, never rising more than about three thousand feet above sea level. These ran down the center of the island from north to south. This range was rugged and barren along its crest, but there was plenty of moisture in the smooth slopes of the lower elevations.
Dia was roughly rectangular, about sixteen miles by ten. Vaguely Ariadne could remember from her history lessons the name of a certain tyrant, Lygdamis, who had ruled here several centuries in the past. The present government was a loose and ineffectual confederation of townships. Exports included beautiful white marble, white wine, and some fruits. The capital and chief port lay on the west coast, the opposite side of the island from that where Theseus's two ships were approaching.
Naturally the mountains were the first landmark to become visible to an approaching ship.
As the pair of raiders drew near, their crews could see a few small sailboats near the coast, craft that seemed to be taking care to steer clear of the attacking force; and they grumbled that now the natives had probably spotted them as well. The locals, given warning, might be able to arrange some kind of a defense, or at least to hide their women and their valuables. "Of course they don't know where we're going to land."
The Dians were among the peoples who had been forced to send tribute to Minos; in recent years they had not been well organized among themselves.
Theseus took note of the fact that there was as yet no sign of his father's ship. "Shiva said he might be here, and that I could expect some other help as well. I expect the old bastard will show up, but who knows when."
Ariadne asked Theseus, "Are you and your father still on speaking terms? I thought it was somehow because of him that you were shanghaied into being one of the youths of the Tribute."
Theseus looked into the distance, smiling faintly. "We have our disagreements, Dad and I. So far, neither of us has tried to conceal any of them from the other."
What kind of greeting he intended to give the old bastard when he came was hard to tell from his manner.
Back on the island of Corycus, Shiva had ordered Perses to see to it that such forces as were available and could be spared, were dispatched to aid the cause of Theseus.
Fortunately several suitable ships were in the harbor or nearby, among them that of Aegeus, also known as King of the Pirates. Theseus had agreed with Shiva, in the course of their brief airborne discussion, that his father would be a good man to have along when matters came to fighting. Provided, of course, that it did not take months to locate him. But as fate would have it, Aegeus had already put in at Corycus; months ago, King Perses had let it be known that certain gentlemen of fortune would be welcomed at his court, and that profitable alliances could be arranged. Before putting out to sea again, Aegeus had taken aboard his ship the girl Edith, who had been recaptured in the Labyrinth. It was thought she quite likely would be useful on her native isle of Dia, both as a guide and as a hostage.
Now the God of Destruction was engaged in directing the furnishing of his new temple. King Perses had come to the temple, to make sure, as he said, that the work of furnishing and decoration was going to the god's liking. Labore
rs and craftsmen, ordered to keep the work going despite the immediate presence of divinity and royalty, were pounding and sawing on the upper levels of a high interior wall, now and then ripping out oaths and dropping fragments of wood or stone, so that the god and king who stood below had taken shelter beneath a platform of scaffolding. A faint cloud of dust, pierced here and there by sunbeams entering at windows, filled most of the large interior of the structure.
Perses, paying careful attention, listened to the news that Theseus was very likely to soon put on the Face of Dionysus. The king knew very little about the amazingly fortunate young man, except of course that he had just escaped being part of the recent Tribute, and had by some amazing feat established a romantic connection with Ariadne.
Now it suddenly occurred to Perses, with a sharp inward chill, that Shiva might be planning to depose him as king, and invite Phaedra to take the throne instead.
He said nothing of his suspicion to Shiva, but asked cautiously, "This Theseus bears me no ill will?"
As usual, most of the god's attention seemed to be elsewhere. He was squinting upward past the scaffolding, trying to make important decisions. Should the rows of human skulls on the interior wall run vertically or horizontally? It was a high wall, and broad, and its surface held room for many rows of skulls. Maybe a random scattering would be more effective. "No more than he feels for humankind in general, I suppose."
The king said that if he could be assured of that, then he had no objection. Not that it would have made any difference, he supposed, if he did object.
"How do we know, oh great lord, that the Face of Dionysus is likely to be found on the island of Dia?"
"Because that is what your man Creon assures me, on what he claims is very good magical authority."
"May I ask, lord, what this good reason is?"
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