Lost in the Labyrinth (12 page)

What a descent was this! Ariadne, whose chariot had so lately been drawn by winged cheetahs! Ariadne, proud daughter of a nation so rich in wisdom, the land of magicians, healers, and seers! To be dazzled by the promised gift of a bear cub and the tricks of any sailor or shepherd! It broke my heart.

Still, I could see that there was no persuading her, and I found myself much moved by her kiss and caress. I sighed and uttered promises of discretion.

"Do it quickly, Xenodice!" she said, releasing me. "Every moment that passes brings Acalle closer, and the day my mother regains her heir, Aegeus will lose his. I know it," she said in response to my questioning glance, "because she told me so. That's why she hasn't had him put to death yet. It's symbolic or something—I don't know. But Acalle will be back soon, and then ... Oh, Xenodice, you must hurry! Remember: the day of Theseus's death will be the day of mine also."

I frowned as she walked away. Did she love him so much that she would make an end to herself if she lost him?

If Icarus were to sink into the Underworld, I asked myself, would I seek to follow him? Perhaps—I could not say. But that was quite a different matter. My life had been intertwined with Icarus's for so long that if I were suddenly torn from him it would be like losing a limb. Ariadne had known this man for only a few short weeks. Still, she had lain with him and believed herself to bear his child. That must make a difference.

Musing on these matters, I slowly made my way downstairs. I was trying to avoid thinking about a more pressing concern—how I was to obtain possession of the key. For, somehow, it had been agreed on between us that I would do this thing for Ariadne.

One thing I had determined without pausing for consideration was that if I obtained possession of the key and if Ariadne managed to arrange a means of escape from Kefti, I would insist on personally seeing Theseus conducted out of the Labyrinth. I did not know whether or not I could trust my sister with Asterius's life; I knew I could nor trust Theseus.

I wished more than anything to be able to put the matter away from me, to forget it for a little while at least. But I knew that when Ariadne had determined something she was like a dog on a rat. I would not be released until either one of two things occurred: she held the key in her hand, or Theseus was dead.

I considered the problem. Where might Daedalus have hidden the key? What if he kept it on his person? But no, I did not think he would go so far. He would not expect that anyone would wish to free Theseus other than the Athenian slaves, and they had not the freedom to wander about the maze searching for him.

He would keep the key somewhere concealed but close by, where he might lay his hand upon it quickly when so directed by the queen. I did not think that the place of concealment would be in their bedroom, where he spent so little time. Rather, it would be in the big, untidy room where he and Icarus labored every day.

I was glad to feel freed of the necessity of searching the bedroom. At the thought of being discovered there, handling his and Icarus's private possessions, a wave of humiliation dyed my cheeks red. It would be bad enough looking through the workshop.

I hastened there, however, wishing to complete a task so distasteful as quickly as possible. To my relief no one was there. The fire was out, and no signs of ongoing activity warned of their imminent return. Daedalus and Icarus were perhaps looking over the site where a new fountain was to be erected in the western courtyard. I uttered a swift prayer of thanksgiving to the Goddess and began my search.

As usual, the room looked as though it had been ransacked. Heaps of objects were scattered all over the floor, the long table, and one of the windowsills. Prepared paints, discarded brushes, knives, and carving tools. Lengths of wood, broken shards of pottery, odd scraps of cloth. Metal fasteners, three saws of varying sizes, a pair of tongs, a long-handled razor, and six tweezers laid out in order of length. A pile of animal hides, stiffened with age. The remains of three meals, furred over with mold. Several pottery mugs with the dregs of old wine lingering in the bottoms. Stacks of clay tablets with diagrams hastily sketched on their leathery surfaces. A bowl containing olive pits, a metal toothpick, and a large seal stone depicting a lion with his paw on a dove.

After I had made one complete circuit of the room, carefully picking up and replacing each item I encountered, I sank down onto a mound of overstuffed sacks on the floor, discouraged. How anyone could find anything in this chaos I could not imagine. Nor did it seem possible that objects of great beauty rose out of this trash pit on a regular basis.

Truth to tell, I did not even know precisely what I was searching for. Locks and keys are rare; secrecy is thought to give greater security than a mere mechanical device for protecting items of value. I had therefore only the haziest idea of what a key might look like. It ought to be small, I thought, smaller than my hand, and made of wood or metal.

I began to pick through the pile of clay tablets for want of anything better to do. I did not believe that I would find the key under them, but if anyone came in this would seem a reasonable, though prying and officious, activity for me to be engaged in. Besides, it gave me a chance to think.

Most of the tablets were boring—engineering calculations and architectural designs—but some were rather amusing, and I became distracted from the question of where the key might be hidden. I recognized several as being executed by Icarus, who had marked them with a tiny sketch of a falcon in the lower corner. I pored over these for some time, tracing with my finger the lines scratched in clay, which represented a hunting cat bent over a pool of fish—a design for a jewelry box, perhaps.

Something inside the sack on which I sat was pricking my bottom—several somethings, in fact. Upon investigation I found that the sack, as well as the three sacks underneath that, contained large quantities of feathers.
Feathers?

I shifted the pile of tablets again, looking for a particular one. Yes, here it was, a man with wings. He was shown in front and back view, and to the side was drawn a framework partially covered with layers of overlapping feathers.

I stared incredulously from the tablet to the sacks and sacks of pigeon feathers. My eye traveled farther and found leaning against the wall a wooden frame exactly like the one in the picture, except that it had no feathers on it. Had Daedalus gone mad?

"I see you have discovered my hiding place, Princess," said a voice close to my ear.

I shrieked.

Daedalus stood before me, his head cocked to one side.

"W-what?" I stammered. "Hiding place?"

He said nothing, just stood looking at me. I looked down and found that my investigation of the feather sacks had uncovered a dark, wedge-shaped crack in the floor. One of the stones that made up the floor had been removed and then improperly replaced before being covered up with feather sacks. Stooping over, I pried the heavy block farther out of its usual position so that light fell on the cavity below.

It was a safe, of course. There were jewelry and weapons safes all over the Labyrinth. As Daedalus had supervised the construction of his workshop, it was hardly surprising that he had made sure to install one for himself. I ought to have thought of it before. On the other hand, it was lucky I had not, as this would have necessitated a tedious interlude, crawling around on my hands and knees feeling the edges of the floor stones.

Then, inside the safe, I saw the key lying in a golden cup. I recognized it for what it was at once and picked it up.

"The key to the manacles binding Prince Theseus, my lady," Daedalus informed me.

"Yes, I know," I said. "Daedalus, are you planning to fly like a bird?"

He raised his eyebrows at the change of subject. "I had thought of it, perhaps," he admitted.

"There are sacks of feathers here," I observed, "and a frame for a set of wings all completed."

"Since you press me, my lady, it has been a lifetime dream for me, and I believe I am close to achieving it."

"But is there any chance that such a scheme could succeed?"

Seeing my interest, he began to warm to the subject.

"I believe so, my lady. I have made many attempts at flight before, all unsuccessful. But this time I think it will work."

I picked up the wing structure and turned it over in my hands. "How do you attach the feathers?" I asked.

"The larger pinions are tied on, and the smaller feathers attached with a glue I have made from pine pitch and beeswax," he said.

"I would like to fly. But would it be safe?"

"Nothing in life is safe. Princess. Certainly not flying."

"I am not a brave person," I said, and sighed. "At any rate, I would like to see someone else fly up into the sky."

"Then I hope that you shall. Princess." He smiled at me. "And now, tell me if you will, what you plan to do with that key."

There seemed little point in concealment now. "Ariadne wishes to free Theseus and flee with him to Athens," I said.

"I see. And how do you come into this plot?"

"I want him to go far away and not come back. He frightens me," I said, sounding like a little girl.

"For your brother's sake?"

I nodded.

He was silent for a long moment, thinking. "Perhaps you are wise," he said at last. "Your father has been trying to bribe me to tell him where Theseus is being held. He doesn't like to speak too plainly—it's dangerous for him if his reason for wanting to know is what I think it is—but it's clear enough what he wants. I have so far pretended not to understand him, but I cannot hold off telling him much longer."

"Oh, do not tell him!"

Daedalus eyed me speculatively. "I thought at first he wished to know so that he could kill Theseus himself. He has as much reason to hate him as your mother has. But Androgeus died long ago. I am beginning to think—"

"He wants Theseus to kill my brother," I burst out. "He hates the Lord Asterius."

Daedalus nodded. "That was my idea also," he said. He sat in thought for a moment. "I will help you."

I gaped at him. "You will? Why?"

Then I remembered. Theseus was some sort of relation, Icarus had said. Suddenly it occurred to me that Daedalus and Icarus would be in terrible danger if Theseus escaped. It would seem that Daedalus had deliberately let him go.

"No," I said. I knelt down and put the key back into the golden cup in the safe and began to rock the stone back and forth, easing it back into place. "No, Daedalus."

What a fool I was! I ought to have never listened to Ariadne. Every path led to death; if Theseus did not die, why then Daedalus and Icarus very well might. Let it be Theseus, then; Ariadne would forget about him in time.

I pulled the heavy sacks of feathers back over the floor safe and arranged them to look natural. "It is too dangerous, Daedalus," I said. "They would know it was you who freed him. You must not take such risks."

"Very well, Princess," he said, and I could not read the expression on his face.

I paused in the doorway. "Do you think—?"

"Yes, Princess?"

"Do you think that I might learn to fly someday?"

"Would you not be afraid?"

"Yes, I would. But to fly like a bird, Daedalus! That would be wonderful."

"Yes." he agreed.

"And although I am a princess, I am not an important one. If I died it would not be a serious problem."

He smiled and shook his head. "You are still a princess. If anything should happen to your older sisters, you will be queen."

"I would much rather fly than be queen," I said.

"I am sorry. But I promise that you shall be the first to see a man fly. The first in the world."

"Well, thank you for that, at least," I said sadly.

"You are welcome, my princess." And he bowed deeply, rapping his forehead sharply with his knuckles.

I had been wrong to leave the Bull Pen even for a few hours. That was the only way to keep my brother safe. My father surely would not seek to have my brother slain if he knew that I never left his side. From now on I would eat and sleep in the Bull Pen. I stopped by my rooms to inform my servant, Maira, of my decision. She protested, but I was firm.

"See to it," I said, and hurried back to my brother, fearful that my father had somehow managed to free Theseus while I dallied in the workshop.

I ordered the Athenians to withdraw during the night to a small room down the hall from the Bull Pen. I would have liked to dismiss them altogether, but that was beyond my powers. I wanted an armed soldier to stand guard over my brother's slumbers, but the soldiers were my father's men and loyal to him. In the end, Maira slept on the floor by my couch while a manservant kept watch by the door.

It appeared that my brother was far from an ideal roommate. I could almost feel that his servants were ill used after all. I soon understood the gratitude with which they greeted my news that they would not be sleeping in the same chamber with him any longer. His snoring was prodigious. One might be excused for thinking his sleeping place the cave of some bloodstained, man-eating monster, with such terrible roars and whistles issuing out of it every night. I pulled the bedclothes down around my ears and snatched such sleep as I might.

In the morning, the captain of my father's guards, Rhesos, appeared and informed me that the king wished to know why I had chosen to take up residence in my brother's chambers.

"Tell my father," I said, "that the Lady Potnia appeared to me in a dream and told me that there is a grave danger to the life of Lord Asterius, and that my presence alone would keep him safe."

This was not strictly true, of course, but I felt certain that the Goddess would forgive me, as it was surely through her intervention that I had learned about my fathers plot.

Rhesos looked as though he would speak further, but then seemed to think better of it. "Yes, my lady," he said, and left me.

How my father received this reply I do not know, for Rhesos did not return to demand further particulars of this menace to my brother's life, and neither did my father.