And I do mean once great. Minos is a shell of his former jolly bulk. It’s as if he had been inflated with happy confidence and, now that his joy has gone, so has his heft. I wanted to hate him for what he’s doing, for making me even consider sending my polis into war against him, but when I see him all the anger dissolves into pity.
"I know," he says, greeting me with the shake of a hand that feels frail and cold. "I look like something that escaped from Hades’s Chasm."
I expect something smart to fly from Odysseus’s mouth, but he keeps surprisingly quiet. I’ve told him and Theseus all about Minoa and Minos on our journey here. After seeing the man before us and the conditions in the kingdom, my two companions probably think I was drunk beyond comprehension the last time I was here.
Minos looks around, confused. "The others?"
"They will arrive on tomorrow’s morning train. They wanted more time to say their goodbyes," I add to see his reaction. His color fades even more and he slumps as his chin begins to tremble. This is the maniac of Osteria? He’s a beaten shell of a man, not a tyrant.
Stirring me from my thoughts, Theseus nudges me and points just past the entry gate. A porter waits with three horses. I hadn’t liked the idea of placing them in the confined carriage for livestock—knowing very well what it feels like to ride in one—but since none of us were certain to where or how fast we would have to travel after Theseus’s time in the maze (or if we would still be a party of three), I thought it best to bring our own steeds to Minoa.
Minos looks at the horses and then to the men beside me. Even this is a change. Before he would have been sizing up the horses and admiring every bit of muscle and mane then reaching out for my friends’ hands and introducing himself while bustling us into his favorite eatery. Now, he stands as meekly as a shy youth waiting to be introduced, but without any real expectation of being noticed. Before I can wonder what has happened to this once boisterous man, a woman in a green gown slinks up beside him.
"I’m Pasiphae, representative for the Osteria Council," she says, stepping in front of Minos and holding out a slim hand. I give the cold fingers the briefest shake. This is the woman who delivered Minos’s supposed demands to the Council. It doesn’t take an oracle’s sight to realize this woman does nothing she doesn’t want to do. Besides, if she is so frightened of Minos that he forced her to go to the Council, why does she return to Minoa to attend every round of victims? I think she has lied. I think, for whatever reason, she has trapped Minos into a game that he can’t get out of. And the rest of Osteria is paying for it.
"I’m Iolalus, Solon of Portaceae. This is Odysseus, commander of the vigiles of Illamos Valley. And this is Theseus, heir of Athenos.”
"Why are non-Athenians here? Have you come to declare war?" she asks with a hint of mocking delight.
"There’ll be no need for war," Theseus says to her, then glares sternly at Minos. "I intend to kill the minotaur and put an end to this."
"We’ll see," Pasiphae says dismissively. "And you, Iolalus. You know Portaceae’s seat on the Osteria Council is empty. You should join us. After all, your bold friend here may not win and you’ll need any allies you can get." Her cruel smile makes the hair on my arms stand on end, but I will not back down from this bullying woman.
"I’m sure Theseus will have no trouble in the maze, but if he doesn’t succeed I intend to declare a war on Minos in defense of Osteria." I have thought about this on the train journey and debated it with Odysseus. Even though there are rumors the Council is writing up a war declaration, no document has been delivered. They’ll bide their time and allow every young person to die before bothering to act. Someone needs to defend the poli and this is no time to drag our heels. I hate that I might have to fight the man who was once a friend. I don’t know what I would do if I met Minos on the battlefield. I pass Minos an apologetic glance expecting to see dismay or defiance on his face, but instead I’m met with a look of relief. So, he wants this to be over even if he has no will left to end it himself.
"If that’s how you feel," Pasiphae says. I had thought she would argue against my proposition of war, saying that it was a matter for the Council to debate and declare, but she seems as pleased as a cat who has just been given an entire trout to devour. "No sense delaying the inevitable. Of course," she says, looking at Theseus with a judgmental eye, "we must play by the rules and give you a fair chance. Since your companions won’t arrive until later, you will spend the night in Minoa and in the morning, you’ll enter the maze. I suppose you expect to lodge in the palace?"
Another woman strides up behind Minos. She’s tall and broad-shouldered, but pretty with warm skin and bright eyes. Although she’s taller than the average woman, the Minos I knew would have dwarfed her, but in his current state he looks like a doddering old man beside her. She is dressed in the red robes of the priests who I recall tending to the sacred Minoan bulls.
"I don’t remember you being the one to decide who receives hospitality and who doesn’t," the tall woman says. "Just because you’ve taken over several rooms in the palace and keep making unwelcome returns to Minoa, does not make you its queen."
I bite back my smile. Everything in the priestess’s tone implies that she would like to hurtle this councilwoman across the Middish Range.
Pasiphae fixes a harsh stare on the priestess. The woman’s cheeks flush as red as her robe, but she does not look away. After a tense few heartbeats, Pasiphae breaks eye contact and snaps her fingers. Two Arean guards, wearing olive green tunics and breastplates embossed with two crossed arrows, fall into place beside her.
"Minos, we have matters to discuss," she orders. Minos flinches again and looks to the priestess. Her face softens and she gives a slight nod. Apparently reassured by this, Minos hurries behind Pasiphae like a trembling dog behind a cruel master.
A breeze delivers a deliciously familiar scent of rich broth. My stomach grumbles. "I think we could use some food before we have to place ourselves under the same roof as that woman," I say, pointing toward Yerni’s shop.
"Oh, of course," the priestess says, suddenly flustered. It’s as if now that she doesn’t have to put on a show of bravado, she is having trouble falling into her true self. A couple boys, clad in red robes run up to us full of excitement.
"We can take the horses," they say in unison and I wonder if they’ve been spying on us or if Minos encouraged them to come. I settle on spying since I don’t think Minos does anything right now without Pasiphae’s express command and she certainly wouldn’t care if our horses were tended to while we ate.
"Thank you, boys," the woman says. "Take them to the temple’s stables and make sure they’re—"
"Watered, brushed and fed. We know," the bigger boy says, adding exasperated emphasis to the final word.
Each boy takes one horse and then, rather than argue over who will take the third, they both hold the reins of Theseus’s stallion as they guide the steeds through the streets.
"They’re a bit mouthy, but quite good with the animals," the priestess says. "Shall we?" She gestures towards the eatery and we make our way to it. Yerni hasn’t changed. He is still scrawny and again I wonder how he lifts the huge vats of hunger-inducing stew into the holes set into the counter before him. As before, he gives no sign of welcome, but I do notice a flicker of hope cross his face when he sees the priestess. From the look of Minos, it’s been some time since he’s set foot into Yerni’s establishment.
"He’s not with me," the priestess says as she indicates which stew she wants.
Yerni shrugs as if he doesn’t care either way, but then says, "Minos makes a big dent in my bottom line, but I keep hoping he’ll return to his normal self and devour my stews with as little restraint as he used to. Maybe then—" Yerni stops as if he’s met his word quota for the week. He ladles from the pot until her bowl is filled to the rim and then takes our orders. Carrying trays heavy with food, we join the priestess who has tucked herself into a table set within a corner of the shop.
"I’m Ariadne." She extends a hand that is rather elegant for its size. We make our introductions. I don’t miss the blush that reddens her cheeks as she shakes Theseus’s hand. "And don’t worry, I made sure Pasiphae keeps to only a few rooms of the palace. I may not be able to bar her altogether, but I can at least restrict where she goes so you don’t have to deal with her."
"Thank the gods for that," Odysseus says. "She seems about as pleasant as a harpy’s twat."
I shoot a chastising look at Odysseus for saying such a thing in front of a priestess, but Ariadne laughs. "I’d rather deal with any part of a harpy than her. I think you know my cousin," she says to me with delight. "She serves you as Head Herene."
Maxinia is half-giant and towers above me, although I’m so used to her size that now I barely notice. Even a drop of giant’s blood would explain why Ariadne is so much taller than the average Osterian.
"More like I serve her. She’s kind enough to share her office space with me."
"What’s happening here?" Odysseus asks when I stop to take the first bite of my stew; it tastes just as good as I remembered. I’ve noticed Theseus hasn’t had much of an appetite since we left Athenos, but the savory smell of the broth and noodles before him appears to win out over his nerves and he practically dives into his bowl of food. Ariadne watches him, her cheeks warm more deeply and I know it’s not from the steam of her stew wafting over them; the expression is too soft, too caring. And I don’t miss Theseus sneaking admiring glances at her.
"The kingdom is in ruins," she says. "No one trusts Minos, no one believes Minoa will survive this, and so no one wants to do anything for the kingdom. Many have moved away. Since Pasiphae sits in the Council seat for Aryana, they assume she must work for Ares and they’re afraid of his wrath that they proclaim is coming any day now. But those who have stayed are bitter over Minos’s apparent weakness. They’re itching for a fight as much as you."
"I’m not exactly itching for a fight," I say, "but if this continues, if we continue going through round after round of this butchery, there will be no young people left."
"I know. I’ve thought the same thing." She continues on as we eat, explaining what truly happened between Minos and Pasiphae, and—confirming my earlier suspicion of Pasiphae’s lies—describing the blackmail she suspects has put the minotaur in their kingdom. "So to be rid of the minotaur, he would have to give Minoa over to the Osteria Council or wage war on the poli. Instead he is allowing his kingdom to fail. We’ll soon be attacked, if not by you, then by someone else. I don’t know when, but the poli are tired of losing their children, and I can’t blame them. The only way to prevent war is for someone to defeat the beast," she says, looking at Theseus.
"That’s why I’m here," he says although his voice lacks the cocky surety it had when we departed Athenos.
"Can you see in the dark? Because that’s the only way to win," Odysseus says bluntly. I stare at him. Now is the time to build Theseus’s confidence, not to add to his fears. "I’m right, aren’t I, priestess? It’s pitch dark down there from what I’ve heard."
"He’s right," Ariadne says, wiping a piece of bread around her bowl to get the last of her stew. Yerni comes over with a tray of four bowls that are brimming with another serving of what we just ordered. As he sets it down, his apron string slips forward and gets caught under the tray. Seeing what is about to happen, Ariadne deftly whisks the string out from under the tray before he can back up and drag the tray of stews with him. She holds the string a moment. The look on her face is as if an idea is trying to come to the surface, but doesn’t quite make it.
She lets go of Yerni’s apron string and thanks him. Once he leaves, she continues in a distracted tone. "Not only is there the trouble of killing the minotaur, but also of finding your way out once you do. If you can’t get out of the maze before day’s end, you are considered to have failed, whether you kill him or not. The minotaur lurks in the depths of the maze making it impossible to find your way around."
"Challengers have to get from the palace to the agora, right?" I ask, wondering if there is a map somewhere of the maze that Theseus could study.
Ariadne shakes her head as she takes a bite of stew. "Killing the minotaur negates that rule. I added that stipulation when the Tillaceans came. When we were still hopeful," she says quietly. She takes a bite of her food before continuing. "If you don’t kill the monster, you still have to travel from the palace side to the agora side of the maze, because otherwise you could just sit there at the palace end and hope the minotaur doesn’t sniff you out before sunset. However, if you do kill the minotaur, and if you and all your companions are at either end—agora or palace—by sunset—"
"Then this will be over," I finish, clapping Theseus on the shoulder. "You could keep Osteria from war."
Theseus stares at us. His face shows none of the elation I feel.
"Oh sure, no problem. Wend my way through a series of underground passages." He sets down his spoon and ticks off his challenges on his fingers. "Kill a man-eating beast, keep eleven other people alive, and find my way back through the passages to get them all out. In the dark," Theseus says, his voice filling with increasing worry as he lists each task. Ariadne looks abashed at his blunt pessimism. The hero she was hoping for may not be at this table after all. Other than his lack of appetite, Theseus hadn’t shown any worry on the way to Minoa. In fact he boasted endlessly of how women would flock to him, how it would be no different than fighting the bull in the arena, and on and on until I wanted to remind him of my own adventures. Riding a hydra and cutting off her newly-sprouting heads while avoiding her poisonous blood at the same time is no easy matter, believe me. Now it's as if the stale air of Minoa has sapped him of his courage and confidence.
"Even if you kill the minotaur, you could get lost in the maze. Even with torches it's difficult to find your way. The people who used to revel down there would run a rope from the entryway," Ariadne says thoughtfully, and again I think there’s a hint of an idea swimming just at the surface of her mind.
"But I can't take anything in," Theseus says.
"Even the stupidest Arean guard—and trust me," Odysseus says, "Arean vigiles take stupid to a whole new level—would notice torches and a length of rope. I mean, while you’re stocking up your kit, why not take a weapon in, too?"
"People's lives are at stake," I say. "All of Osteria is about to go to war against Minoa. What exactly will happen if Theseus killed the minotaur with a bit of contraband?"
Ariadne thinks a moment then tells us that the rules state the guards must inspect each person who goes in. If the guards find nothing, that’s the final word. The person is qualified to go in. If he or she and the eleven others make it out, the Council must withdraw.
"I don’t understand what the Council has to do with this. Why did Pasiphae go to them when she could have just had the Arean vigiles punish Minos for his supposed crime?"
"Here’s how I see it: Aryana wants Minoa. They want our resources, our army. But if they invade, then the Council has recourse against them for being the aggressor. However, if they go in with the Council’s approval, they can legally invade and—" she trails off, letting us fill in the blank.
"I never did trust the Council," Odysseus says.
"We’re still left with the fact that I can’t take anything in. I mean, how big is the maze? A guideline would be great, but I can’t hide a length of rope long enough. I don’t doubt my ability to put up a good fight against the minotaur, but to get back out seems impossible."
He’s right. When it all comes down to it, the maze is a trap, the minotaur is a monster, and Theseus will be fighting blind. The Athenian pushes his food away while we finish our second helping in morose silence.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Hera
DESPITE SPRING JUST getting in the swing of things below in Osteria, the gardens on Olympus bloom as brightly as if it is mid-summer. Part of the perks of being a god is never having to endure the muck
and decay of autumn, nor nature’s slow re-awakening from winter during a cold, wet spring. I inhale a deep sniff of a heliotrope cluster, but raised voices disturb me from taking full pleasure in its sweet scent. I peek around the bend to the next garden and catch sight of Hermes, his helmet wings buzzing with anger. I nearly duck back. I am not speaking to him and I don't want to be caught spying. He betrayed me by helping Zeus with Io, I tell myself, but the thought no longer has the same conviction it once did.
"He’s your son. You cursed his mother. You made him. Don't you feel any responsibility to destroy him?" Hermes is gesturing at the water in an ornate bird bath where he must have conjured a gazing pool.
Poseidon comes into view, his muscular frame is bulky next to the lithe figure Hermes maintains.
"Do not tell me what to do or how to feel." He steps in menacingly. The wings on Hermes’s helmet still beat their frustration, but the wings at his sandals have tucked themselves in like an animal hiding to avoid danger.
"So every youth in Osteria must die and war must ravage the poli and kingdoms before you’ll stop the monstrosity you created?"
Poseidon raises his hand as if to slap or punch Hermes. The force would break half the bones in Hermes’s face. Sure, Hermes is a god and would heal within the hour, but he still feels pain.
"Brother," I say casually as I step forward. "Oh, were you giving out boxing lessons? Sorry to interrupt." Poseidon lowers his fist. The red flare in his cheeks adds a fearsome glow to his blue eyes. "No, no, don't let me interrupt. Maybe I can learn a thing or two," I say as perch myself on a bench and look up at the pair as innocently as possible.
Poseidon glares at Hermes then moves in closer. Hermes flinches, but does not back down. Poseidon looms over him for a moment before turning away. On his way back into the common room he mutters, "He's got a lot of lessons to learn. Boxing isn't one of them."
The Maze of Minos Page 16