The Maze of Minos

by Tammie Painter

  "He is now forever immune to poison. The only way to kill him is with a blade or your bare hands. The only way to rid yourself of it will be to kill yourself. And I doubt anyone would mourn you."

  Even after I left, I was obsessed. I wanted to watch her die. My warning didn’t stop her from trying to poison the fetus. Even after she made herself sick with Circe's potions, the baby held tight. And when it came out, it was indeed a monster. I gloated over the horror on her face when she first saw him—the bovine head, the human body, and legs that ended in black hooves instead of tiny baby feet. She could have killed him then, but she didn’t. She kept him until he was too unruly to handle then handed him off to the Arean vigiles. I was never consulted in the matter of my son’s upbringing.

  And yet, here I stand facing down Demeter’s anger and demanding expression.

  "This monster is his mother’s child, not mine. I can’t control what she does with him."

  Demeter scowls at my lack of contrition. "That thing is your creation. It's your responsibility to destroy it. Do you even know what the Osteria Council has been doing? What they and Ares and this Pasiphae have agreed to? The spawn of your lust is being used as a weapon and you think it’s nothing to do with you?"

  I stammer, not out of guilt, but because I’m trying to answer all of Demeter’s questions at once, even though I have no clue what she means about the Council.

  "He's been a bit busy," Hermes says waspishly. Demeter and I both shoot him looks of such scorn, he jerks back, sending his helmet wings fluttering. He raises his hand as if fending off an attack. "Just trying to help."

  "I've been attending to the foaling of several of my horses," I lie, giving Hermes a glare that tells him to keep quiet about the time I’ve been spending in Athenos with Medusa. I remind myself to stop by my polis soon to check in on matters.

  Then it dawns on me. For Demeter to be so upset, these people being lead from the train must be Demosians. Minos is playing some game with Pasiphae’s monster and these young people who I can now see are weeping and frightened. Whatever game this is, it will be a deadly one.

  My skin goes cold, but I remind myself this has nothing to do with me. Pasiphae is an Arean, let Ares deal with her and whatever scheme she has concocted with Minos who, knowing Pasiphae, I would bet is her lover. Poor man. I swallow hard and tell Demeter in a firm voice, "I have told you before we need to stay out of mortal affairs."

  "Says the god who is trying like mad to have an affair with a mortal," Apollo mutters and his little group giggles.

  "My brother will agree," I insist. Zeus always has my back. He will see the silliness of Demeter’s demands. Since when are godly fathers responsible for the results of our lust?

  "Given Zeus’s taste in bed partners," Hermes says, "he seems deeply interested in mortal affairs."

  Just then, Hera enters the common room. Dionysus and the others scramble to pick up their cards and resume their game, but I can see them peeking over the tops of the hands they’ve been dealt. When Hera sees Hermes, she stiffens and makes an odd motion as if her feet are having a debate about whether to continue forward or to turn around.

  "We could use your input, Hera," Demeter says flatly, accusingly.

  Hera shifts. One foot, the one that wants to turn and leave, starts winning the debate. If I didn't think my sister was incapable of such emotions I’d swear she was feeling awkward, unsure of herself.

  "I really need to review the plans for Portaceae."

  Hermes’s wings beat a frantic pace. To everyone’s surprise—there’s even a couple gasps from the card table—Hermes flies over and grabs Hera’s arm as she turns to go. His touch isn’t rough or aggressive, but she jerks away as if his hands were fire.

  "Portaceae is nearly rebuilt," he says. "You can't seriously need to consult plans." She opens her mouth to speak, but Hermes, gathering some unknown boldness, dares to cut her off. "And I've already seen the details for Salemnos, so I know you don't need to consult those schematics either." He reaches his hands out to her and his eyes change from angry to pleading. "Please speak with me, Hera. We’re a good team and we need to work together on this." He gestures to the scene in the gazing pool.

  Her eyes widen at his request, the look on her face is one of surprised gratitude and warmth. But just as quickly as that, her eyes go cold, her lips sneer.

  "We used to be a good team. Now I can't trust you."

  Really, I have better things to do than watch this drama. I don’t normally butt in when the other gods have their tiffs, but stepping in to end this spat between Hermes and Hera will be worth it if it hastens my return to Athenos. I know exactly what sent Hermes after Hera’s rival and it wasn’t voluntary service; it was Zeus threatening him, goading him to go. But before I can explain to Hera that Hermes wasn't willingly serving Zeus, she snaps her fingers and vanishes in a silver mist.

  The show between Hermes and Hera over, the card players place new bets, and Demeter turns her attention back to me.

  "You can’t deny your part in this," she insists.

  "If Ares is behind this then why not let Aphrodite charm her way into fixing it." I say looking toward the four gods at their card table. Aphrodite scowls at me. I’d forgotten she and Ares were no longer an item. Could Pasiphae be bedding Ares, not Minos? If so, Aphrodite must be fuming at the thought of a mortal sinking her claws into Ares’s flesh. "We are gods, we need to handle things amongst ourselves, not barge in whenever mortals get in pissing matches with one another."

  "You may want to see this," Hermes says as he stands watching the action in the gazing pool.

  Arean guards lead Pasiphae’s child to an underground chamber. Not long after, the twelve Demosians are locked in. In moments, it’s a blood bath. The other gods have drifted over to watch, but the show is over quickly. Surprisingly, even though there are no grapes involved, Dionysus shows a keen interest in the scene on Demeter’s map. When the other gods wander back to their game, he remains standing by the gazing pool. I follow his line of sight to a woman in red, who is quite pretty with a gentle yet intelligent face. So much for us gods sticking to our own kind. I turn away from the scene.

  "I know you can’t kill him," Demeter says, "not with our stupid rules, but something needs to be done. According to this decree, which I still can’t believe the Council agreed to, every twelve days, twelve more are going to be called up. Will you just stand by so stoically when it’s Astoria’s turn?"

  "I can’t kill him, but he’s not immortal," I say irritably. I still fail to see how this is my problem. Would it be rude if I just disappeared in a flash and went to see if Medusa is ready for me to slither into her yet? "It won't be long before someone comes along and takes care of him. Then the mortals can laud another hero. After all, they need one after the failure of Jason. Sorry Hermes, but your descendent has become a drunken sot." It’s a low blow, but Demeter has put me in a foul mood.

  "His children were murdered before he could even name them," Dionysus says, looking up from the pool with a scowl on his square face. Hermes clenches his lips and his wings pinch themselves tensely against his helmet.

  "It shows the mortals’ weakness of spirit. Osteria always needs a hero. Now they need a new one and they'll have a chance to make one."

  I refuse to face any further accusations. With a clap of my hands, I vanish from the common room to go to the stables of my polis. Perhaps a gift of a new horse will sway Medusa.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Iolalus

  "YOU’LL BE FINE," I insist.

  "She might say no," Orpheus says, his voice as wobbly as some of the strange gelatin creations my elderly neighbor lady insists on giving to me.

  "She escaped Doliones Island to be with you. She has lived with you ever since. And she accepted your proposal on, what, the third day after your return? I hardly doubt Eurydice will suddenly change her mind."

  He stares at me with a new dose of worry etched across his face. I instantly regret having used the word
doubt. I know what people think of me: That, because of my red hair, I have the oracle’s gift. When will they understand trusting your intuition is a gift all people have, it’s just that most don’t choose to use it? Now, if I’m ever to get him out of this office and to his place in the arena beside his betrothed, Orpheus will need a more concrete assurance that his bride will not yank her hand away the moment Maxinia tries to bind their hands together. I roll my eyes, but speak solemnly.

  "She will not refuse you."

  "And?" he asks expectantly.

  "And what? Do you want me to tell you the exact date she’ll become pregnant and what your children will do for their apprenticeships?" The lanky man blushes and does a very poor job at trying to suppress a smile. "She’s already pregnant, isn’t she?" I ask warmly.

  "See, you know things. Is it going to be a boy or a girl? Will we have a long and happy marriage?"

  A heavy stone settles in my stomach at this final question. Eurydice will marry him, that was plain the day she stood on Portaceae’s docks and greeted him with unrestrained affection when he returned from his adventures on the Argoa, but something nags me about the marriage.

  Now I’m believing I’m an oracle as well. Ridiculous.

  "Go. Get married before I decide to wed you to someone else."

  "It’s a lucky thing she accepted," he says solemnly. "You know, because of Minos’s treachery and all that. Sometimes I feel terrible that I’m so happy."

  Orpheus may consider himself an engineer, and indeed he has a talent for technology as does his bride, but, thanks to his mother trying to guide him toward a career as a harpist since he was a child, he has the sensitive heart of a poet—sensitive enough to be tuned into other’s misery even on the verge of his own joy. He’s right; he is lucky. Only Osteria’s unwed youths are being taken away to Minoa. When Portaceae is selected, this wedding will get him out of having to face the monster in the east. In fact, marriages are suddenly something even the men who boasted they would be carefree bachelors their entire lives are actively seeking out.

  "It’s never wrong to be happy,” I tell him. “Now go. I’ll see you at the arena soon enough."

  Orpheus makes his farewells and I watch him pass through the courtyard below where I notice the espaliered apple and pear trees are exchanging their blossoms for leaves. A bold peacock struts up to the lanky bridegroom, likely looking for corn or a pat on the head, but Orpheus jerks away from the bird and trips over the rake Euphemia has left propped against a bench. I do hope he and Eurydice don’t receive too many wedding gifts made of glass; the delicate objects would last less than a day around my clumsy friend who always seems like his skeleton is a bit too long for the muscles that are meant to carry it around.

  I settle down behind the office’s wooden desk. As my home in the heart of Portaceae City isn’t large enough for a proper office, Maxinia lets me share this space on the top floor of the House of Hera to work from and to meet with people. She says she doesn’t mind; she’d shared the room with Iole, the previous Head Herene, and has no interest in being bunched up behind the desk. She prefers the long tables on the other side of the room where she can sprawl out her budget scrolls and record books. From a pile of my own documents at the corner of the desk I grab the map I’d been looking at before Orpheus showed up.

  Minoa sits far to the east of Osteria. The kingdom is so far away it plays little role in most Osterians’ daily lives. We trade with the kingdom and people like to visit it to gawk at the soaring towers of glass and metal or to take part in the raucous Earthshaker events, but Minoa has always kept neutral in matters of politics and war. I can’t fathom what could have turned the jovial Minos I met last summer into a bloodthirsty tyrant. I’m aware that he keeps one of the largest armies in Osteria, an army so large it could easily take over an individual polis, but his forces are never something Minos has prided himself on. Put to the question, Minos could more readily tell you how many bulls he has than how many vigiles serve him. So why this sudden change? Why so viciously antagonize the poli these past several weeks?

  Someone knocks on the door. Before I can acknowledge it, Odysseus steps in. Although he has been consumed with worry for his cousin and seems to forever be on horseback as he journeys regularly to Illamos Valley to maintain a sense of order as Salemnos rebuilds itself, he has still served here as my trusted advisor. I know he does so out of a sense of gratitude since Portaceae is helping with much of the rebuilding in Salemnos, but I do wish he would settle down and either take up a home here or in Illamos Valley. No wonder he and his wife can never find themselves in the same place at the same time.

  "Haven’t opened that piece of manticore shit?" he asks indicating the sealed letter from the Osteria Council on my desk. "Keeping it sealed won’t change what’s in there."

  My eyes drift to the message I received yesterday. In it is Portaceae’s fate. The Demosians and Tillaceans have already made their sacrifice, and the Astorians will soon be on their way. Will this message tell me my polis is next? Will it force me to pick the twelve finest examples of Portacean youth to be fed to the monster Minos keeps? Or will it name another polis whose own youths will spare Portaceae from the next round of this horror? I want to tear the horrible missive to pieces, but at the same time I don’t want to touch the vile thing.

  "How can anyone pick twelve innocent people to send to their deaths? How did Priam do it?"

  "You have to look at it as a battle. We are essentially at war with Minoa now even if the Osteria Council won’t officially declare it."

  "Why do they not step in?" I shove away from the desk and, ignoring the pain in my leg, march to the window. "This is an Osterian-wide threat and they do nothing. In war do you pick and choose which troops must die first?" I grimace as I turn to face Odysseus who has been at the head of many battles, whereas most of my vigile service was spent policing the streets of Portaceae City. As Solon, I am technically commander of the Portacean vigiles, but the injuries to my leg—courtesy of the torture my cousin Eury subjected me to last summer—will keep me from any action until I fully recuperate. If I fully recuperate. I rub the ache that throbs through my leg.

  "No, you find the ones most willing to go."

  "I can’t ask them to volunteer.”

  "Better than forcing them to go. Some will jump at the chance. This monster can’t be invincible. Someone will kill it. Just think of the glory to the person and the polis that destroys it and saves Osteria. I almost wish I weren’t married so I could go." He pauses then gives a sheepish grin. "Never tell Penelope I said that."

  I pick up the letter, knowing I need to open it.

  "We can’t allow this to continue. I can’t bear it." The parchment shakes in my hand, not from fear but from the anger coursing through me. "We need to stop giving in to this threat. If it’s Portaceae’s turn I will send in the twelve required Portaceans, but they will be followed up by as many vigiles as I can muster."

  "You’ll make war on a kingdom without the consent of the Osteria Council?" Odysseus asks, his tone encouraging, not critical.

  "The Osteria Council can ram whatever bribe they’re getting from Minoa up their asses. What happens once each polis has sent their twelve sacrifices? Do we send another twelve in an endless loop until we are out of people? This can’t go on. I thought Minos was my friend when I met him, but I will kill him myself if that’s the only way to stop this. I can’t ask any Portacean to walk into that kingdom and die without a fight."

  I tear open the letter. I’m so geared up for a fight I don’t comprehend the words at first. I scan it again and slump back in the chair.

  I hand Odysseus the sheet. I’m ashamed at the sense of relief washing over me.

  "Athenos," Odysseus says, folding the letter and placing it on the desk. "Well, then, no war today, which is good since riding off to battle might keep us from our friend’s wedding. Speaking of—"

  He hands over a folded scrap of parchment that looks like it’s been left on the flo
or of a busy stable. The crumpled, sweat-stained paper would never have come via one of my official messengers; they take pride in delivering their news quickly and in good shape. I take it and look for a seal. There is none. I unfold the letter. The stone of worry over Orpheus’s marriage drops into my gut again.

  "You’ve read this?" I ask Odysseus. He nods. "Why should they care now? Eurydice escaped Doliones Island months ago."

  I scan the letter again. It claims that Eurydice, as a wood nymph and a servant, was property of Doliones Island and that Orpheus has stolen her. If she is not returned, the Dol will take action against the man who robbed them of her. It would be laughable if I weren’t already in such a despairing mood and if Odysseus hadn’t told me what beasts the Dol truly are. Doliones Island is a region of Portaceae, but it has always kept to itself, almost like a kingdom. Still, they are part of my polis and no Portacean owns another.

  "They act as if she’s a slave," I say. The only Osterians who still practice slavery are the Colchians. It’s not to say servants live lives of luxury, although I do plan to enact laws giving them certain rights regarding fair payment and freedom from cruel punishments, but they are not property and are free to come and go as they please. If the Dol force my hand and demand Eurydice’s return against her will, it could mean civil war because I will not allow any of my people—whether nymph, human, or centaur—to be a servant against their will.

  "I think there’s more to it than a matter of property,” Odysseus says. “This smacks of a man who was rejected and now, even though he can’t have her, doesn’t want anyone else to have his prize."

  "But still, why wait so long? Like I said, she left months ago."