Dangerous Secrets (107 page)

“Don’t you want to know what they were saying?”

“No.” I closed my eyes and imitated a snore.

He dug into my ribs with his foot. “I must tell
you.”

“Tell me, then go to bed.”

“They said, “Eno must go to Troezen. Death
waits for him there.” Who have you so offended that Death sends so many
messengers for you, my friend?”

“My death will be of boredom right here. But I
won’t be going to Hades alone if you don’t get to bed.”

I didn’t have to see him to know he threw his
hands in the air before stalking off. He’d killed sleep for me, that was
certain. I’d turned him off with a joke, not wanting to see how much he’d
disquieted me.

It occurred to me that the best way to stop the
recurrent dreams would be to go to Troezen and not die. A prophetic dream loses
its potency if the prophesy is shattered. Besides, ‘Death waits at Troezen’
might be interpreted different ways. It could be that I’d like the place so
much I’d settle down to live happily ever after there until the day I died. No
one had ever dodged a prophecy. Usually trying only made things worse in the
long run.

I was a little confused that so many people
seemed to want me at some city I′d hardly heard of before this mission.
Even now I didn′t know much beyond what Phandros had told me, that there,
as at Leros, one of the gates to Hades could be found, an open secret.

Even the dream-images of people quite
well-disposed toward me had urged me to hurry there, some saying
‵
before
it′s too late′...too late for what? Others promised me death or the
possibly demonic delights of my black-haired beauty.

I fell asleep eventually, lulled by the splash
of the waves and the motion of the ship. No dreams came to me except the usual
half-glimpsed nonsense.

Chapter 12

When I awoke, the eastern sky blushed with dawn
and the sail had slipped off the cage. The harpy sat near the bars, her
feathers bedraggled, her face paler than usual, thin gold instead of bronze.
She watched me with the steady, fathomless gaze of a very young child.

Her water bowl was empty. I went aft to the
cook’s area, taking a pitcher of water and a leg of lamb, the last one he said.

I poured the water through the bars into the
bowl and then I poked the raw leg in between. She didn’t touch it, though soon
she crawled over to dip her mouth in the water.

After watching her for a few minutes, I noticed
the crew was stirring. I covered the cage and went back to the cook’s area to
settle a dispute between him and Phandros over soup. Truthfully, Phandros had a
gift for creating tasty dishes that the sullen cook lacked. Jori tried to soothe
the chef′s injured pride but it was evident he preferred Phandros′
skill.

I did not leave the ship at Mykonos. The crew
would talk, there was no way of stopping them. I didn’t want to be pointed at
in the streets or questioned for anyone’s entertainment. I occupied my time by
polishing the weapons stored onboard which had the added effect of keeping off
the curious and the potentially violent. One man tried to bribe me with fifty
obols for a single glance at the creature.

“There’s a minotaur coming in on the next
ship,” I said, to get him to leave. “Talk to that captain, but you didn’t hear
it from me. It’s supposed to be a big secret.”

I hoped the next captain would throw him
overboard as a drunken fool when he insisted on seeing an non-existent monster.

Jori came back, full of plans to exhibit the
harpy as a curiosity.
‶
The king is coming in an hour, as soon as his wife
is dressed. The whole court is thrilled at this chance. If you are wise, you
will sell this beast here and now.″

‶
I don′t want to do that.″

‶
I will negotiate a better price
for you, minus my commission, of course.″ He pressed his hands together
prayerfully.
‶
We
could make a fortune, you and I. You capture these beasts and we sell them to
royalty. It could be most lucrative.″

‶
I′m not interested in
helping spoiled princes set up zoos.″

‶
Who said anything about a zoo?
The king here is interested in making a cloak of those pretty feathers. He has
some mad idea it would make him fly,″ he added, chuckling.

‶
Because you gave him the
idea?″

He rolled his eyes.
‶
It was not very
hard to do. So you agree?″

‶
No,″ I said again.
‶
Get
your supplies on board. We′ll shove off as soon as we can. And before the
king comes down from the palace.″

‶
He has offered good
coin.″ Jori sighed regretfully, knowing when I am unlikely to change my
mind.
‶
What
can it harm just to look?″

I couldn′t answer that. I only knew that
I did not want the harpy exposed to prying eyes and gossiping tongues. Oddly
protective behavior toward a creature I intended to sell to its death. Surely
life in a cage would be better than being sacrificed by a cowardly king to
appease a bloodthirsty crowd.

Lifting the sailcloth to peep at her in the
soft light of a sunset, I knew the thought of her caged up forever would haunt
me. I thought of her in the night sky above Leros, a meteor of flashing gold,
setting the heavens on fire. Better to die cleanly than to suffer never
reaching the sky again. Perhaps I should even do it myself. A swift stroke with
a blade and she would die at my hands, painlessly.

She looked at me with those soft, clear eyes. A
chirruping purr reached out through the bars. Abruptly, I dropped the cloth and
went to harry the men. They grumbled, having hopes of tasting the fleshpots of
Mykonos, but worked willingly enough. It still took longer to get the supplies
on board than my patience liked. We pushed off as darkness fell, deep enough to
show the torchlit procession leaving the palace on the hillside. Jori spat over
the side.
‶
50
drachmas...gone. Gone as though they had never been.″

‶
How much did you get for
promising to miss the tide to satisfy the king′s curiosity?″

‶
Ten pieces only. And a small,
very small, keg of wine.″

‶
What kind of wine?″
Phandros asked. He′d slept most of the afternoon, lying forward with a
angled strip of sail over him to keep out the sun.

‶
What do you care?″ Jori
sniffed.
‶
You
have giving up drinking, no?″

I left them to their bickering. I felt uneasy,
as if a storm were approaching over the waves. My skin prickled as if with heat
but there was only the refreshing sea air rushing past us as we sailed out of
the harbor. We put some miles between ourselves and Mykonos before Jori
declared it was too dark and dangerous to go any farther that night.

Once again, I didn’t dream as I slept on deck
and if anyone else on the
Chelidion
did, they did not mention it. In the morning, the sail was off and the harpy
again huddled near the bars, closer this time to where I had slept.

On the third morning, her wing was touching my
hand when I awoke. The feathers, razor-sharp, lay over my hand and forearm like
a blanket. Seeing I was awake, she lifted her wing with great delicacy and
folded it back against her body. Then she crouched down, her wing-joints up to
where her ears would be, if she had any visible. I sat up and sighed, my
decision taken.

Jori awoke to find me in his quarters, poring
over a chart. It wasn’t a lot of help, as the names and distances written in a
Phoenician code. Phoenician is strange, all lines and angles. Hard enough to
read even without adding in the natural paranoia of traders and pirates which
made them turn everything, even a letter to their mothers, into ciphers.

“I need an island,” I said as he yawned and
rubbed his eyes.

“Of course. A very useful item. What kind of an
island?”

“Something fair-sized but not so big that it
has people living on it. Fifty plethron or so. Lots of trees.”

“Are you planning a picnic?”

“No, a sanctuary.”

He pushed me to one side and spread out his
hands on the map. “I take it this has something to do with that beast out
there.”

“Exactly.”

“You have a heart of surpassing softness, my
old friend.”

“I just can’t take her to be killed.”

“Her? It is an it. A beautiful creature, in
certain lights, but still an it.”

“Be that as it may. I′m not taking her to
Troezan to be killed. I can’t take her back to Leros; they’d kill her just as
fast, though I don’t believe she is guilty of any of things they are afraid of.
So an island, far enough away so that she can’t fly some place else. There
should be water and something to eat....”

“You would like an abandoned palace and lots of
sheep?”

“I’m serious, Jori.”

“Am I not? Look here....” He pointed to a speck
upon the map. “This is Telemenos. Fifty years ago, more or less, there was a
plague or a giant or something and everyone was killed or they left. They left
in such a hurry, as a matter of fact, that they abandoned their sheep and goats
who have been filling in the time ever since by breeding like mad. Your
feathered friend would never go hungry here.”

“Surely somebody has claimed it?”

“No, no one. The neighboring islands all
believe Telemenos is haunted. We mariners stop there sometimes for water, but
only in the daytime. Seafarers are superstitious folk. I’d have another mutiny
on my hands if ever I tried to remain overnight. And the palace, or at least
fortress is still there. Roofless, of course, all the better.”

I hadn’t told Jori that Eurytos had claimed a
history with him. He might scoff at the superstitions of his crew but there
were enough votives and images of the gods around, some that I′d never
heard of, to show how often he implored this one or that one’s protection.
Knowing that a former enemy had come back from the Underworld would unsettle
him for months. His sword had run red too often to find that thought comfortable.
I wasn’t any too happy about it myself.

“You won’t be the loser by this,” I swore. “I
earned an extra fee from the King of Leros. I’ll split that with you instead of
the reward for the harpy. It’s not quite as much, but I’ll make up the
difference.”

“Please!” Jori protested, his shoulders and
hands working overtime. “Am I such a money-grubber that I would rob a friend?
No, no, keep it.”

We went back and forth for a little while over
the issue. At last he agreed to take an extra third, though he still didn’t
agree with my decision not to sell the harpy to King Pavlos of Troezen.

We changed course for Telemenos. Two days
later, as we ran toward the island, I went forward, eager for a first
impression. I stepped up into the bow.

The sweep of the bay was shallow, like a cupped
hand turned sideways. There were rolling hills, turned gray by distance, and
white cliffs. Trees clustered here and there, dwarfed by the roofless acropolis
atop the highest cliff. I couldn’t see livestock but I could smell them, an
odor wafting out toward us, a little stronger than the sea-smell.

I turned to wave my approval at Jori, standing
to the tiller. He nodded back then, abruptly, pushed the tiller over. The boat
swung wide, I, to all intents and purposes, stayed put. Only there was nothing
under me now and I fell into the sea like Icarus falling out of the sky.

As I came up again, there was a shout from the
Chelidion
. It was not ‘man overboard’. I
heard the drumming of feet running along the rail and then a splash as Phandros
tossed himself over into the water. He coughed and snorted as he came up but
didn’t seem to be in any distress.

Jori poked his head over the side of the ship.
“There you are, my friend. Ai, ai, please do nothing rash!” Beside him appeared
the cook, the spear he used to catch fish at the ready. It had an iron barb on
the end as long as my hand.

I was floating along on my back, feeling quite
at ease. Looking up at the face of my friend, I shook my head. “The money
wasn’t enough?”

“Your offer was fine so far as it went. But
now, you see, I have all your money plus whatever Pavlos will pay for the
creature. As for you, there is a fine island here. Perhaps one day you will
escape from it if that is the will of the Gods. Come see me at Tyre if you do.
I will be so very glad to see you! You can even bring the snoring one, if you
don’t slaughter and joint him for food in the meantime. Farewell, my friend.
Farewell!”

He put the
Chelidion
’s
helm over and she spun on her heel like an Egyptian dancing girl. She trailed
no ropes for me to grab, no convenient net dragged over the side, not even a
piece of laundry. Some members of the crew waved a cheery goodbye to me from
the mast where they’d just finished cracking on more sail.

Then, heart-rendering, frantic cries arose
piercingly from the cage on the deck. The crewmembers I could see clapped their
hands over their ears, holding on with their knees to the cross-beams. I saw
the cook run aft, spear held high. Would Jori retain enough greed to overcome
the harpy’s spell and stop him? I had no way to know.

I swam hard but it was useless. I shouted
desperately, willing her to understand, “Hush, hush! Don’t make them hurt you!
I’ll come for you. I swear I will come for you!”

***

So there I was, in the damn water again. I felt
so hot with rage that my only other emotion was surprise that the ocean wasn’t
boiling for ten yards in every direction. I wanted Jori’s head on a platter,
nicely decorated with parsley, giant fennel, and saffron flowers. I chose the
herbs I knew made him ill or that he just didn’t like.

I dwelt lovingly on this image to quell my
fears. It would take the
Chelidion
not more than a week to reach Troezen, if the wind blew fair. I could be
marooned on this empty little island for months, with no company but sheep
and....

“Phandros!” I bellowed. I didn’t even know if
he could swim.

“Here!” he called back.

The sea was calm, thankfully. I could catch a
glimpse of him as the swells rose and fell. He moved through the water more
peculiarly than anyone I’d ever seen. For a moment, I thought he must be riding
a dolphin, but no sea-brother ever bobbed around like that.

I cut through the water toward him. “What are
you doing?”

His beard looked like seaweed and his nose was
running. “I can’t swim but a philosopher once explained to me that this kind of
cask should float. More or less, anyway.”

He was trying to stay on top of a small cask,
stamped with burnt-in Illyrian symbols, which rolled like a frisky kitten among
the waves. Ideally, it would have stayed under his chest, keeping his head out
of the water. In reality, it knocked him under the chin, tried to flip over,
and popped out of his hands to float temptingly just out of reach. He’d then
thrash frantically in the water until he could haul it in again.

“I wish that bloody philosopher was here now,
instead of me! His theories are useless.”

I took a few strokes and dragged it back to
him. It was small but heavy.

“Where did you find that?”

“It’s from your friend the Captain’s secret
stash. I think it’s that very special wine they make in Illyria to sell in
Babylon.”

“How’d you find it?”

“Sneaking around in the middle of the night,”
he confessed cheerfully.
‶
He had quite the collection of rare vintages.″
More somberly, he added, “Forgive me, Eno, but I didn’t altogether trust your friend.”