Akropolis

by Catherine McCallum

  They had eaten early, and after Alexios left for classes they discussed their plans with Zenon and Korinna. Zenon had cautioned them. “Return here if you find trouble. If Seb has been discovered, Korinna’s identity may also be known.”

  “When I needed to contact Kleitos,” Korinna said, “Leontios would arrange it. His shop is close to Andreas’s shop, where Sebastian works.”

  “Where Seb works?” said Nat.

  “He’s a sandal-maker.”

  Nat was silent. Seb clearly had work, interests, friends here. Was this now his life? Nat wondered whether Seb had changed. Seb doesn’t belong here, he thought.

  They moved through the streets, attracting curious glances as they went. Despite their concerns, they found the life of the city fascinating. Dusty streets, mule-drawn carts laden with food and wares for the markets, Athenians working, shopping, talking in groups. And overlooking all this was the ancient hill known as the Akropolis.

  Leontios heard them from the back of the shop and shuffled through to greet them. It was early for customers, he thought. Late enough for those buying fish, maybe, or bread. But earthenware? Those shoppers came after, to browse and bargain.

  Korinna introduced her companions. “Nathaniel is Sebastian’s brother. We wish to contact Kleitos urgently.”

  Leontios frowned. These days, he wasn’t so quick to trust people.

  Korinna prompted him. “You helped me contact Kleitos many years ago, Leontios, remember? We need to find Sebastian. Kleitos may know where he is.”

  “Sebastian is gone,” Leontios said.

  “Do you know where he is?”

  “I know the gods are watching over him.”

  Korinna sighed. She looked at Leontios intently. “You have ways of contacting Kleitos and I understand that you need to protect those ways. But please help us find Sebastian.”

  Leontios hesitated. “I will send someone for Kleitos. Come back when the sun is high and he will be here.”

  Korinna indicated to the others and she and Norika moved for the door. She turned to Leontios. “We’ll return after seeing Andreas, then.”

  Nat held back. He said, “Leontios, you’re a friend of my brother’s. Thank you for your concern.” He smiled at the old man.

  Leontios peered at him through fading eyes. “You look like your brother. I have something for Sebastian. I was to give it to him before he left, but I was too late. Perhaps I should give it to you.” He fumbled and took out a coin. “Keep it safe.”

  Nat took the coin and placed it in his pocket. “Thank you, Leontios. I’ll give it to Seb when I see him.” He left Leontios hastening towards the back of the shop.

  Andreas was working at his bench when they entered. He looked up and knew immediately who the boy was. The resemblance was striking even though Sebastian had light hair and his brother’s was dark. Seb had spoken many times of Nathaniel‌—‌a boy who watched birds, who ran great distances, who was fiercely loyal. A clever boy. Andreas rose and stepped forward to greet them. So this was Nathaniel.

  He knew why they were here. Nothing escaped Andreas’s notice. He had found Seb’s backpack missing when he’d arrived that morning, and had quickly checked under the bench. The pouch had gone.

  Korinna spoke first. “Sebastian has left Athens, as you knew he would.”

  Andreas said nothing.

  “Did you see him before he left? Did he leave with Kleitos?”

  “Sebastian has not been at work for many days, and he was not at home last night. I assumed he was celebrating his success.” Andreas had attended the trial as a spectator and had thrilled with pride at Seb’s defence of Alexios. His first impression on meeting Seb had been confirmed. Seb was clearly exceptional, despite his youth.

  Now the time he was expecting had come.

  “Who knows where he might be?” Andreas said. “I don’t think Seb himself knew when or where he was going. I salute him, and hope I may see him again.” He turned to Nat. “If you are anything like your brother, you will indeed be a great man.”

  Nat was astonished. A great man. Was this Seb? His brother, the dreamer? He wanted to find Seb and tell him that he had never stopped believing in him, that he missed him. His throat tightened. “I am not a great man,” he said, “but I appreciate your words.”

  The sun was high when they left Andreas to return to Leontios’s shop. The streets had filled with people, many arriving from rural areas for the Pyanepsia festival. Children dodged in and out of the crowd, chasing one another.

  Korinna led the way, taking the quickest route she knew, not used by many, through a quiet, shaded arcade bordering a small quadrangle. In the quadrangle, some students were gathered under a tree listening to their teacher.

  Nat heard a faint humming sound, fast increasing in volume. The rock. He stopped walking and took it from his pocket. The layers were luminous and pulsing‌—‌he could feel the vibrations through his hand.

  Norika was beside him. “It’s a warning,” she said. She called urgently to Korinna, now some way ahead.

  Korinna stopped, then turned towards them as if to say something, her hand reaching out. Whatever it was remained unsaid. She took a step back and slowly slumped to the ground, where she lay motionless.

  It took Nat a second or two to take it in. All sound went except for his heartbeat, fast and loud. And then, suddenly, the distant noise of the street returned in a discordant rush.

  He and Norika ran to Korinna and bent to support her. She was pale and still. A feather with a metal spine protruded from a wound in her chest. Blood from the wound stained her chiton.

  She opened her eyes and looked at them. “Nike,” she said. It was no more than a whisper, barely heard. And then she died.

  They looked wildly around for help. The teacher and a few of his students had become aware that something was wrong and were approaching them. Passers-by hurried on. Those less fearful stopped, uncertain. One of the students was sent to inform Zenon of the death of his wife. Eventually, an old woman arrived to help ready Korinna’s body to be borne home by her family for the vigil and lamentations, in accordance with custom.

  The shadows were lengthening and most passers-by had moved on. Nat and Norika sat on a step in the arcade and waited for Zenon. They discussed what had happened in low voices.

  “Why would anyone want to kill Korinna?” Norika said.

  “She knew things,” said Nat grimly, “she knew Seb.” His glance rested on something a short distance away, on the ground, glinting in the sun, and he went to pick it up. It was another feathered dart. “These feathers couldn’t have come from a bird. Someone must have fired them from a bow, or thrown them.”

  “What about the students? Could any of them have been near enough to throw it unnoticed?”

  “The others would have seen him.”

  “Korinna said the word Nike before she died,” said Norika. “Nike is the winged goddess of victory.” She studied the dart for a moment. “We have to consider other possibilities. The dart and the feather‌—‌they’re not separate parts. They’re metal and feather as one, as if from a strange bird. In the tree near the students I noticed a bird with an unusual call, like a distress call, when the rock started humming.”

  Zenon and Alexios had arrived, ashen and grieving, with trusted servants and a cart to carry Korinna home. Before they left, Zenon listened to Nat’s account of her death. When he heard about the bird and the feathers, his tone lowered.

  “There is a legend many believe to be true, of the Birds of Ares. They are said to protect Ares, the god of war, and have feathers of winged metal darts they use to attack and kill those who have offended him. People are superstitious. They will attribute Korinna’s murder to the wrath of the gods.” His face was grave. “You are both in danger, as Korinna was. She always feared she would one day be discovered.”

  Nat said quietly, “We were on our way to Leontios when Korinna was hit. He may have found Kleitos, or know something. We’ll return there and mee
t you at your home later.”

  They watched the small, sad group depart, Korinna laid out on the cart, the servants in front, Zenon and Alexios walking close by her side. When they could see them no longer, they turned back towards Leontios’s shop.

  The old man was at the front of the shop and looked up, agitated, as they approached. “Kleitos is dead,” he said, “murdered in the street! Why? Such a good man.”

  Nat’s face paled. “Have you heard anything about Seb?”

  “No, no. Kleitos was alone. They say he was struck down by one of the Birds of Ares.” Leontios shook his head. “May Zeus protect us.”

  They heard a sound from the open area at the back of the shop and exchanged glances. Nat said, “We could have been followed here. We need to check outside.” Reluctantly Leontios stood aside to let them pass.

  They went cautiously through the shop to a back room filled with pottery, and from there outside to a small walled yard. Nat looked around, puzzled, certain he’d heard a voice. “Is anyone here?” he said into the fading light.

  The only sound was the soft cooing of a dozen pigeons housed in a coop. A single pigeon was perched outside, on top of the coop, regarding him in silence.

  Nat stared at the pigeon and turned to Leontios. “Is this how you contact Kleitos?” he asked. “Are these messenger pigeons?”

  “Only one knows the way. She is my link with others in the Network,” said Leontios. “Her name cannot be spoken in our poor tongues. I call her Nike.”

  Norika grabbed Nat’s arm. “Nike! That’s what Korinna said before she died. She was trying to tell us about the pigeon‌—‌the messenger!”

  They looked more closely at Nike. The bird kept her gaze on Nat, and then, quite deliberately, she lifted her claw slightly. Nat started in surprise.

  Norika said, “There’s a message attached to her leg. Nat, she’s the same pigeon, the one in the mosaic!”

  “The message is for you,” Leontios said, addressing Nat. “She’s been waiting for you to come for it.”

  Nat wondered if the old man had lost his mind. The pigeon had been waiting for him? Could Leontios know the bird’s thoughts? Impossible.

  No one moved. Nat sighed, looked at the pigeon and said, “Is it okay if I remove the message?” Now I’m crazy.

  Norika was looking at him impatiently. Still in doubt, he reached up and untied the note from the bird’s leg. Norika leaned forward as he unfolded it. They were looking at a map, or part of a map, fragile with age and weather.

  Norika said, “It’s the map of the Garden of Kenji, with the lake and bridges just as Yoshiki described. This seems a quarter segment, two sides are torn.”

  “Four diagrams, four segments,” said Nat. “The completed map leads to the Garden, the priests planned it that way.”

  He folded the segment and secured it in an inner pocket, then reached up and lightly touched the pigeon’s soft grey wing.

  “Thank you, Nike,” he said. “I hope we meet again.”

  Before leaving, they told Leontios of Korinna’s death. The old man wept, and they waited for him to regain his composure. “What is happening to the world?” he said, before lapsing into a long silence.

  “Will you be okay here?” said Norika.

  Leontios said, “We must never think we’re superior. That’s been the trouble.”

  “Superior? What do you mean? Who to?” Nat asked.

  “To others, of course.”

  “Others?”

  “Other forms. Nike knows the way, you see.”

  Nat hesitated. “Do all the pigeons follow your instructions, Leontios?”

  Leontios looked at him in astonishment. “No, no,” he said. “You don’t understand. I follow theirs!”

  A light rain was falling as they arrived at Zenon’s house. The household was in mourning and after a quiet meal with Zenon and his family, Nat and Norika excused themselves and retired to their quarters early, taking a taper to light the lamps.

  Nat took out the coin Leontios had given him and turned it over. “Something about this coin doesn’t seem right. Tomorrow I’ll ask Leontios a few more questions, and then we’re finished here. Seb’s left, we have the map. We need to keep moving to stay ahead of our trackers. Zenon will understand.”

  He scanned the map segment into his phone then opened the second diagram with the line of Roman numerals in the top margin. Like the first, the central illustration was a detail of a larger image. He zoomed in. “It looks like a close-up of carved wood. Like the armrest of an old-fashioned chair‌—‌something you’d find in an antique shop. You can see the seat covering through the scrollwork.”

  Beside him Norika watched the screen. “But the woodgrain’s too coarse and the weave on the fabric is too large‌—‌the stitches around the edge are huge! It seems like a small scrap of fabric, too small for the seat of a chair.”

  “Unless it’s a very small chair. That would account for the size of the woodgrain. If the grain is accurate, then it’s the chair that’s small. And if the stitches are normal size, they would appear much larger on a tiny seat. The chair could be a miniature made as a sample from the furniture maker, or as part of a model interior.”

  Norika said in a tired voice, “We’ll know more when we’ve transcribed the symbols. Let’s call it a night. I can’t do this now.” She arranged the cushions on her couch and lay staring at the ceiling until sleep came.

  Nat listened to the soft rain on the roof and wondered if Seb was okay.

  Where is he now?

  * * *

  NGC-1097, from the Dome

  Seb was in a vast space‌—‌a room with no windows. The floor merged seamlessly with the walls and with a dome-shaped ceiling, all lit from within by a soft luminous glow. A large platform of the same material rose from the floor.

  Demokritos sat on the platform, waiting, wondering why Sebastian had been summoned before the Committee. Demokritos had been a Guide for many years‌—‌not often enough to disrupt his life as a scientist, but ready when he was called. He viewed it as a commitment he had chosen to undertake, even while his work occupied most of his time.

  Now Sebastian was his responsibility, for how long he couldn’t guess. Demokritos knew the youth was from a timespace other than his own, he knew this was his first time at the Dome, and he wondered why Sebastian warranted this appearance.

  They were alone in the room. Seb paced the floor, ready to leave at the first opportunity. “Do you know why I’m here?” he asked Demokritos.

  Demokritos gave a rueful smile. “I was not told. It’s unusual for someone so young to appear before the Committee.”

  “What is this Committee, anyway? Who are they?”

  “Sebastian, relax. I only know you must be someone of interest to them. You were in danger in Athens and now, for the moment, you are safe. The Committee clearly has plans for you.”

  “Plans? I make my own plans.” Seb turned to face Demokritos. “Why do you trust them? Kleitos trusted them, and he’s dead. Is this the life you want, to be a Guide under the control of a phantom Committee? Where is your home?”

  Demokritos flushed in surprise at this outburst from the youth he had rescued. Did Sebastian not understand his situation?

  “This is the life I want,” Demokritos replied. “I have learned more as a Guide than you could imagine‌—‌the different timespaces I have visited, the scientific advances I have witnessed. All this, and I can return to Abdera and my writing any time I wish. You speak like this because you are young. No one is completely free. Everyone has obligations. For now, my obligation is to keep you safe.”

  Seb had stopped pacing. “Abdera? You’re from Abdera? Demokritos of Abdera?”

  “You know of me? Few know of me in Athens.”

  “In our homeland we call you the father of modern science. Our scientists still study your concept of atoms as the basic particles of matter.” Seb resisted the impulse to discuss subatomic particles. Instead he said, “It’s a privileg
e to know you.”

  Demokritos was pleased. “So you understand I am more than your Guide. Yet this role is as important to me as any other. I believe great advances are achieved by singular, extraordinary people. This could be you, Sebastian.”

  Seb smiled. “Then I would be like you, Demokritos.”

  A faint, high-pitched sound caused them to look up at the dome. They watched as the opaque ceiling became transparent to reveal a sky of stars. The sight was overwhelming in its scale and splendour.

  Seb caught his breath. He knew his own skies. This was not the Milky Way. He was looking at another galaxy.

  16

  It was late morning when Nat and Norika left the house, after the rain had eased. Zenon and Alexios farewelled them on the street.

  “When you find Sebastian, please give him a message from me,” said Alexios. “Tell him, thank you.”

  In silence they walked towards the marketplace. They had left their chitons at the house, but most people on the streets were in a hurry to reach their destination before the rain returned, and they ignored the strangeness of their clothes.

  Nat led the way, anxious to get there. “Leontios’s shop is ahead.”

  Norika smiled. “You want to see Nike again.”

  “Leontios seemed to understand her. I know it sounds impossible, to believe you can communicate with a bird…” His voice trailed off.

  “Why not?” said Norika. “We must never think we’re superior‌—‌that’s what Leontios said.”

  The shop was deserted when they arrived. They called Leontios’s name but there was no response.