Zad bounded ahead of him and settled on the rock beside his mistress, whimpering and licking her face. Pythius swallowed back bile when the dog’s muzzle came away
red. “Kasia?”
She groaned and turned her head, but her eyes did not open. Pythius crossed into the circle of near-light and paused, shuddering. Within this twilight ark, his soul
brightened along with his vision, the weight of the darkness lifted. He knelt beside her and took her hand. “Can you hear me, Kasia? It is Pythius. I am here to help you.”
Her fingers gripped his as her whole body convulsed, knees and neck both straining toward her center. Pythius’s nostrils flared. “No, my daughter. Do not deliver your babe
yet, please. He is not ready, and neither are you.”
A low, faint keen sounded in her throat. A perfect match to the teardrop that tracked down her temple.
His soul yearned to cry out but knew not which god to beseech. Athena, the guardian of his city? Hera, goddess of women? Or should he take his plea directly to Zeus?
Zad leapt up and flew past him with a round of barks. Pythius pressed his lips together and leaned over the prone woman to get a better idea of her injuries. Myriad scrapes
and bruises covered her, but the seeping, dark stains under her head and trunk dismayed him most.
“Mistress? Mistress!”
Pythius turned and saw her two most trusted slaves running their way. “She is badly injured—and in labor, I think. I found her only a minute ago.”
The eunuch reached them first and dropped to his knees on the rock. He inspected each limb, the back of her head, and held large hands over her stomach when another
convulsion ripped through her. He looked with tight lips at the maid who had settled beside Pythius. “Pray, Desma.”
The girl’s eyes slid shut, pushing tears onto her cheeks. “Jehovah, God of my mistress, please. I know not what treachery has befallen us this day, what evil blocks your
light from the sky. But I know that Kasia is your true and loyal servant. Spare her, Jehovah, please. Stop the bleeding, heal the injuries. Lord, Lord!” The girl cried out
and buried her head against Kasia’s side. She continued in a Greek dialect Pythius did not understand.
He did not need to. He gripped Kasia’s hand tighter and whispered, “Jehovah.” Of course. She was a Jewess, and hers was the God who held back the shadows from her now. “
Jehovah. Save her.”
The eunuch eased Kasia up a few inches and then lowered her limp form back down. “Should we move her?”
Zad barked from behind them, and they all looked his way. The dog whined and turned toward the way they’d come from, tail wagging.
“I assume that is our answer. He led us all to her—perhaps he sees what we cannot.” Pythius looked from one servant to the other, and they both nodded.
Desma sprang up. “I will prepare her chamber. Master Pythius—if you could find the king?”
“Of course.”
The maidservant scampered over to Zad, and they soon disappeared into the blanket of darkness. Pythius cringed at the thought of stepping back into it, but there was no
choice. They must get her to her room.
Theron gathered Kasia into his arms, and Pythius swore at the sight of her hair caked in blood. “We have no time to lose.”
He expected the second step to take them outside the oasis of twilight—instead, it moved with them, beating back the shadows as they slid up the hill. He knew it was Kasia
the half-light cradled. And when they reached the solid ground of the palace, Pythius had to step out of it and go in search of the king.
The darkness slid oily and suffocating over him. He turned back to Theron and Kasia. “Do you know what this is?”
Perhaps he was a fool to ask a slave for truth. But the eunuch offered a tight smile. “Ahura Mazda, I think. Each time we have felt this, our mistress bids us pray to
Jehovah.”
“And it works?”
Theron nodded. “It is the only reason she has survived this long in the palace.”
“Then I will call upon him. Perhaps he will hear the supplication of a desperate Lydian, if the prayers are on behalf of his daughter.”
“He will.” The eunuch grimaced when Kasia tensed in his arms. “Another contraction. I must get her to her bed.”
“Of course, go.” Pythius drew in a resolute breath and turned to face down the darkness. He knew little of Jehovah, but one thing he was sure of—if this blackness came
from the god of his king, he wanted no part of Mazdayasna.
He tried to call to mind his own gods, but their images looked like ash. He needed no more smoke and vapors, no more stone and marble. He needed light. And so far as he had
seen today, only the God of Kasia offered it. His soul calling out for Jehovah, he went in search of the king.
*