Ariande's Web

by Fred Saberhagen

  A faint moan, issuing from some cabin or locker, reached his ears. There were tones in it of great interest to the god. Suddenly concentrating once more on his immediate environment, Dionysus thought in a certain way about the sailors, who were still endeavoring to terrorize him. And the brush of his thought against their minds caused them to forget about him for the moment. As soon as they went slack-jawed and stood back, he reached out a hand to touch the latch that secured the door of the locker or cabin, and the fastening fell open.

  Alex tugged open the door and looked inside, wrinkling his nose against the smell of heat and human confinement. A young woman lay slumped in one corner of the small space, barely conscious and obviously in great distress.

  Edith had changed in the few days since Alex had briefly seen her in the Labyrinth, so that he did not recognize her at first glance. Even the ceremonial garments she was still wearing were stained and torn and faded out of recognition. Alex, in those distant-seeming days when he had been no more than a young soldier, had seen all of the youths and maidens of the Tribute more than once; and presently he understood that this young woman had been one of them. Somehow she had survived the murderous terror of Shiva, to become a harassed prisoner.

  And now, as if dimly aware that the door was open, she stirred at last, muttering what sounded like some desperate prayer to Apollo.

  Moving forward into the dim space, Alex bent down and put out a hand to raise her up. He was gratefully aware that the Twice-Born must be helping, for he could lift her as easily as a doll.

  He said, "Your name is Edith—isn't it? Of course. You were on Corycus when I was there. How did you come here? Did any of the others in the Tribute manage to survive?"

  Gradually, in halting phrases, a story came out. Captivity, as one of the Tribute people. Then freedom for a short time, in the Labyrinth. And finally, a worse captivity by far, a hell of repeated rape and other torments.

  "Why have they done such things to you? Because they are bad men, and you are pretty, and young, and helpless, yes—but was there some other, special reason? Take your time in answering. Soon you will sleep, and there will be no more pain."

  "I was a servant of Apollo, once," she whispered back. Her lips were cracked and dry.

  The right hand of the god accepted a crystal goblet from the air. Carefully he gave the girl a drink. "And will be again, if that is what you want. Is that the reason why these men have so abused and tortured you?"

  "They wanted me to tell them the secrets." Her voice was a little stronger now. "They said there must be secrets in Apollo's temples, and I must tell them what they were."

  "Secrets? What could they be?" Dionysus wondered aloud. "Of all the gods I know, the Far-Worker seems least inclined to have mysteries."

  "They wanted to know about places in the temples in which something could be hidden. I told them all I knew," said the girl in her small, hurt tones. "Which was little enough. I knew of nothing hidden."

  "Of course you told them." Alex patted her hand. "Don't worry about that. But why have they carried you here, all the way from Corycus?"

  Again, Edith needed a little time to gather the strength to speak. "Lord, they kept saying to me that they would bring me back to my home on Dia, and there I would serve them as a hostage. They also think that I will serve them as a guide, to some particular temple there in my native land."

  With human concern Alex examined the young woman. The traces of the terror and abuse she had been through were very plain. Was there nothing he could do to heal her? The skills and attributes of Dionysus offered very little. It would be easy enough to cause her to forget her troubles utterly, for a long time if not forever; and possibly in a little while Alex would use the powers of the Twice-Born to accomplish that. But right now more urgent matters must claim almost all of his attention.

  Anger was mounting swiftly in him. But Dionysus was no Shiva, to deal out death in the winking of an eye; and Alex was no Butcher, either.

  Slowly Dionysus shook his head. A purpose was growing in him, though he had not yet formed it in clear words, even in the mind he shared with Alex. Backing their shared body out of the cabin, he allowed the crew once more to remember the fact of his presence. Now they stood squinting at the young man they had carried aboard, evidently trying to make up their minds what to do with him next. Alex wanted to demand of the pirates: What have you done here? With the memory and experience of Dionysus to draw on, he had already realized that he was unlikely to get anywhere trying to work with and through these men.

  Still, he could feel enough human sympathy for them to make the attempt. Also it would be useful to have a full crew, or something like one, to man his ship.

  He stood up straight and raised his voice. "Will you not listen to me?"

  Sadly, it seemed that they would not. They had given themselves to some darker power, and accepted a kind of blindness. Except for one member of the crew, the man named Acetes, who seemed on the verge of saying something sympathetic—but then the steersman fell silent, when he realized what strange things had begun to happen before his eyes.

  * * *

  Alex had left open the door of the little cabin, or locker, and now Dionysus reached in, with their shared right hand, to stroke the head of the captive girl. Soon he would bring her out into the open air, but not just yet. He feared that she might be frightened by certain things that were soon going to happen on the deck. Her freedom was now assured, and could wait just a little longer.

  "All will be well," Alex tried to comfort her. "But tell me again what has happened to bring you here. I'm not sure that I understand. Somehow, you got away from Shiva?"

  Slowly her gaze focused on him. Whatever she saw evidently gave her strength to talk, to speak clearly. "I was with Asterion, and he protected me."

  "In the Labyrinth?"

  "Yes. But then—Shiva came again."

  "I see. All right, it doesn't matter now. No doubt you would like to go home, to Dia? In freedom, I mean, of course."

  "Lord, if only I could go home!"

  Dionysus nodded. "As soon as we can hail another ship," said Alex, "I'll send you home by that one, or by this, whichever is the slower. The faster one I must keep, and use. I would be inclined to escort you to your home myself, but there are other things that I must do. Matters so urgent that they must not wait."

  Now a handful of crewmen, suddenly struck by the fact that their lordly prisoner still remained unbound, approached Alex, and were actually making an attempt to bind the youth whom they still imagined to be their prisoner.

  As soon as the ropes had been knotted round the god's wrists and ankles, Dionysus, irritated and distracted from the plans he was trying to make, caused them to loosen and slide off.

  When he did this, the men who had tied the ropes on simply tried to tie them on again—the madness that had now taken possession of the crew was none of his doing, but rather sprang from their own cruelty and greed. They were too far gone in their own quiet, hopeless insanity to comprehend the meaning of what they were trying to do.

  But Edith, looking out through the open door of the cabin where she still lay huddled, had the beginning of understanding. And so did the helmsman, Acetes, whose eyes widened when he saw what was happening, and who began to plead with his shipmates to stop. But they could not or would not hear him—it was as if some kind of curse had seized them.

  From scraps of conversation Alex overheard, he soon understood that, in a kind of circular chain of circumstance, the pirate king intended to sell him to King Perses, having heard that the Tribute levied this year was going to be repeated, next year, or even sooner.

  In the god's memory Alex could find the image of what he himself ought to look like now. His hair should be fuller and darker than it was, and it doubtless would take on that aspect soon—provided Shiva let him live long enough. Even now, with his purple cloak covering his broad shoulders, he looked enough like the popular image of royalty to account for the sailors' optimism
in the matter of being able to collect a great ransom.

  Now some of them had picked up scraps of rope and cord with which to fetter him, but to their amazement their efforts along that line met with no success. The ropes would not hold together; the fibers separated, the knots came undone as soon as they touched Alex's hands or feet. And he sat looking at them with a smile in his dark eyes.

  "Stop!" This was the helmsman crying out.

  "What's wrong with you?" Aegeus demanded, what little patience he possessed now badly frayed.

  Acetes said, "You are trying to abuse a god." But his voice had suddenly fallen so low that the others in their impatience, and with their own ongoing clamor, failed to hear him.

  "What's that? Speak up?"

  Once more the steersman screamed in anguish at his shipmates.

  The captain shouted abuse and mockery at him, and with a volley of oaths ordered the crew to get the sail up.

  The wind at once filled the sheet of cotton canvas, and the mast creaked and strained, but the ship did not move.

  "Are we aground? We can't be!"

  "What's going on?"

  If they had thought about that question instead of merely shouting it, they might still have saved their lives. The power of a god was taking their ship away from them. Men were splashing in wine up to their ankles, wading in sparkling red that poured from nowhere to run across the deck and into the sea. But for once they found no joy in wine. The lines on which they tugged and heaved turned into green vines in their hands.

  Jarred at last into his senses, the captain gave up trying to begin a voyage, and ordered the helmsman to put in to land.

  He was too late. Ghostly images of two leopards appeared, and at that sight some of the men began leaping overboard.

  Dionysus said to them, "If you will behave like wild beasts, then you ought not to wear the shapes of men." And in midair the bodies of those who jumped took on the smooth and limbless shape of dolphins.

  Turning to face the one he had tried to kidnap, Aegeus drew one of his weapons from his belt, brandished it for a moment, and then saw it fall clattering to the deck when his own hands and arms betrayed him, flailing the air in madness.

  Now Aegeus was no longer able to grip a weapon, or anything else. The King of Pirates, the father of Theseus, could see and feel his own arms contracting, the bones in them changing, his hands losing their fingers, warping into the digitless shape of fins.

  Driven into a frenzy by their fear, the remainder of the sailors, all but the captain himself, leapt for the rail and over it, and even as they jumped, their arcing bodies were transformed in midair, grimaces of fear transformed to mindless dolphin smiles, taking on in midleap sleek streamlined shapes.

  All of them losing, among the million other things they lost, any chance of ever becoming gods.

  One cried out, just before his mouth took on the mindless dolphin smile, "Lord, mercy!"

  The Twice-Born was calm, regretful. "Another god might have done much worse to you than I have done. Be glad that it was not the Far-Worker whom you brought on board. Now leave my ship!"

  Now, of all those the god had condemned, only Aegeus himself remained standing on the deck. The pirate captain's hands had disappeared, his feet were now barely large enough to let him stand on them. His clothes were gone, his skin no longer that of a man, but his head and the sound of his voice were human still. It was as if he still maintained them in that form, by a supreme effort of his own will.

  "A prophecy once said that I would never hang—by all the gods, it was right!"

  Dionysus had nothing to say at the moment. Neither did Alex.

  But the King of the Pirates was not quite finished. On the edge of doom he bragged and blustered to the new avatar of Dionysus that his son, Theseus, was going to be a god—he had the word of Shiva for that.

  "And you have faith in the Destroyer's word, do you?"

  The pirate's voice was failing now, but he could still form words. "My son is going to be a god. Seek out Theseus. Will you do that for me? Seek out my son!"

  "Why should I do that?"

  "So he may kill you."

  "Has he the Princess Ariadne with him?"

  Triumph flamed in the pirate's ruined face. "He has her with him. My lad has her, and he'll keep her, too. Go search for them on the island of Dia. You'll find your princess there, and Theseus and Shiva too. Shiva will burn you to a cinder, puny god! And my son will have your Face!"

  "That may be. But you will not be there to see it happen. Go!"

  And at last the King of the Pirates screamed in despair, a scream that mutated into a croaking and inhuman noise. The change had overcome his head and face before he went overboard.

  Now, in helpless obedience, they were all gone.

  Dionysus turned away from the suddenly unpopulated deck, and went to stand beside Acetes, who had not moved from his post, though he had let go of the steering oar. Alex put out a hand and laid it on the trembling helmsman's arm, restraining him, when he too would have tried to escape by plunging into the sea, and at the same time giving him the courage that he needed to stand fast.

  Now the young man spoke in a different tone, perfectly human and friendly. "Take back the steering oar, Acetes, and don't be afraid."

  Obediently the man clamped both hands upon the worn and weathered wood. But both his eyes were tight shut, as if he was afraid to open them. "My lord. Lord Dionysus, God of the Many Names, have mercy on me!"

  Gently the god squeezed his arm. "Be at peace, steersman, I say. Open your eyes; now there is nothing terrible to see. The wind will change, and I will need a good sailor to advise me. We are going on to Dia."

  Edith had fallen into a faint, and lay where the men had pushed her. Abstractedly, with half a thought, Alex/Dionysus sent a sprite to comfort the young woman softly, and ease her slumber, so that she might rest and heal. The door of the cabin was standing open, and when the girl felt ready to come out on deck she could.

  He hastened to tell her the good news: she would see her home even sooner than she had expected, and in far better circumstances.

  Then he faced around. "Acetes, I suppose you know the right course for the Island of Dia?"

  "I believe I do, great lord. But the wind is wrong."

  "I do not have the ordering of winds, so you must do the best you can. I can raise or lower the sail, if you will let me know which way you want it."

  An act of will, and the ship was free to move again, once more subject to the mundane forces of wind and wave.

  Alex/Dionysus soon discovered that he needed no crew to sail this or any other ship, or at least none beyond his sprites and satyrs. He soon discovered that, with a little help from them, he could drive the vessel anywhere by the sheer power of his will, even against the normal wind. But to have the mundane forces on his side was a great help. He caused the compass-pyx to glow so that the helmsman could read it when the sun had dipped below the sea.

  Alex was beginning to find the handholds that he needed, not on ropes and oars, but on the very fabric of reality. There were limits on what Dionysus might accomplish, but they were very far beyond the limits that constrained a mortal.

  What was going to happen when he faced Shiva, Alex did not know; his new Dionysian memory seemed to hold no clue, no plan, that would help him survive the Third Eye's dazzling, incinerating lance of light. But now, apart from his lack of any tactical plan, he thought he was as ready for the contest as he was ever going to be.

  When they were driving swiftly through the sea, more or less in the right direction, he glanced toward Edith again, and saw that her eyes were open and fixed on him. Reluctant to leave the helmsman's side just now, Alex beckoned her to him, and she crept out of the open cabin, trembling, and came across the deck so Dionysus could hold her in the curve of his arm and gently comfort her.

  Then Alex raised his head, and called into the wind, "Princess, be of good cheer. I'm coming to you."

  Chapter Twenty-Three


  The great escape had indeed turned out to be a tremendous adventure, just as the Princess Ariadne had expected from the beginning. But for her it was also a great deal more. For many days her only real goal in life had been to help Theseus, first to save him from destruction, eventually to claim him as her true lover. Someday, somehow, they would be betrothed, and then, by some means and ceremony, she would become his beloved wife. Eventually she would sit somewhere on a throne beside him—but that was vague in a distant future, and at the moment not at all important. She still refused to doubt that her lover was, or could be, in some sense a real prince—she was all the more determined to believe it, now that she could no longer deny that he was a pirate.

  Once more blessed by favorable winds, the ship under direct command of the pirate prince bore on through the sea at a rapid pace, her compass-pyx tuned to the mind of Theseus. The captured trader, once the property of Captain Petros, was sailing more or less with it, sometimes within bowshot, sometimes forced by the vagaries of wind and wave a mile or more away. Near Dia they were going to join forces with whatever additional ships Shiva and Perses might have managed to dispatch, and which could reach the point of rendezvous in time.

  As the days passed, Ariadne was increasingly beset by seasickness and fear, but was grimly determined not to meekly let such feelings master her.

  "And what are we going to do when we get there?" she demanded. No one had seriously discussed the matter with her yet. Her companion might not be minded to answer questions, but now on the small ship he couldn't very well avoid her.

  "You're not going to do much of anything. Certainly not going on shore with the raiding party." Theseus made no pretense of asking, or trying to persuade her. He was simply telling her how things were going to be. "You'll stay aboard ship, locked up, so I'll know where to find you when I get back."