Dark of the Moon

chapter 41

ARTEMIS POINTS her nose at the ceiling and howls, long and low. I ease my burden down gently, even though Asterion is past feeling any hurt. He lies on his back, his restless limbs finally still. One dark eye is open, and it stares at me mildly, without accusation. I close its lid and rest my hand on the boy's damp face.

The men huddle together in horrified silence. Even Enops appears shocked. Behind them, Prokris is bent over, her hands covering her face. Only Ariadne looks at me, her eyes shining with tears. She takes a deep, shuddering breath and steps inside the circle of white stone that used to mark the limits of Asterion's domain. She stoops over her brother's body and smooths the curls off his bumpy forehead while her tears drip onto his face.

Two more figures join the crowd in the doorway. One is the Minos, or Minos-Who-Was, as Ariadne now calls him. His face is as impassive as the bull's mask that he wore a short time ago. With him is the bent-over old woman who brought us the drugged wine—and my sword.

The man glares at Enops. "You!" he spits. "Traitor! And to think that I thought you worthy of being Minos!"

Ariadne wheels on her uncle. "He was your chosen one? I thought that Simo—"

Enops thrusts his chin out at her. "No. He chose me. And now I'm going to be not only the Minos of Knossos, but its king as well." His voice is shaky. "I am Pasiphaë's son as much as he was." He glares at the motionless body inside the circle of white stone. "As much as you are her daughter. Why should I have to risk my life in the bullring? Why am I of no consequence, when a monster is called the son of the god, and Minos-Who-Will-Be?"

Ariadne stares at Enops before turning her back on him. She bundles the filthy yarn into a mass, which she carefully deposits on Asterion's chest. She crosses his hands over it and stands. She and her uncle lock gazes. I can't see her face, but something in it makes him bow his head in submission.

He is the first to speak. "Take the body and give the boy a decent burial."

"No!"

At Ariadne's voice, the guards look up. Gnipho glances at the man, then at Enops, and finally at the girl, who is still in her finery. He salutes Ariadne. "Mistress?"

Ariadne says, "Take the body of Minos-Who-Will-Be to the sacred valley. He did not live long enough to be made Minos, but is there any among you who will deny that he was the true son of Goddess and Velchanos?"

Apparently there isn't, and Gnipho signals to his men. They come forward and pick up the lifeless body. As they shuffle toward the door, one of the boy's hands drops off his chest and trails in the muck. Ariadne stops them and replaces it gently. She follows the group with her eyes as they ease their burden through the narrow door.

"And what of you?" The old woman's voice is thin but full of power, and everyone turns to look at her. She leans on a staff, addressing Ariadne.

"Of me?" Ariadne seems bewildered. "What do you mean, Damia?"

"What of Ariadne? Are you Goddess, or are you not?Were you born of Goddess and Velchanos, or of Pasiphaë and"—her voice cracks, and a tear running down one of the ridges in her face sparkles in the torchlight—"of Pasiphaë and Kilix?"

Ariadne appears unable to answer. Flies buzz as they congregate in the dark pool. I remember that it was meant to be my blood that was shed, and my stomach wrenches uneasily. If Ariadne is not who she has claimed to be, this might mean that I'm not the god they think I am. I don't know if that means they will let me go free or if they will kill me even more horribly than they would have on the altar, as punishment and to cleanse the sacrilege.

"You must go," Damia tells Ariadne. "You must leave Knossos. Goddess has lost six cities, and the rest are crumbling, even the holy island of Naxos. She will lose Knossos now. The people will still obey Minos-Who-Was, at least for a short time, and he will not allow anyone to harm you if you leave. But if you stay, they will kill you. They will kill you slowly to drive out anything of Goddess that found its way into you—or they will keep you down here, in your brother's chambers, to show everyone how strong they are and how debased Goddess is."

The cunning look on Enops's face tells me that what the old priestess predicts is accurate. I take a firmer grip on my sword in case he decides to put one of those plans into operation now.

"And, child"—the old woman raises her face, and even in its ancient decrepitude, something noble shines from it—"child, I couldn't stand to see that. I gave my son to Goddess; I cannot give Her my granddaughter."

I'm bewildered, but Ariadne looks as though she finally understands something. "Kilix was your son? The man my mother named as Velchanos the spring before I was born?" When Damia nods, her old face wrinkles even more, and Ariadne folds her in her arms. The two women stand there for a moment, breathing as one.

Ariadne steps back. She glances at me, and I think I see what it was that made her uncle submit to her will. She no longer looks like a frightened girl. Instead, she is a woman who wears a firm expression. "I'll go. Goddess may be finished here, but I'll find a place where she is still revered." The old woman wilts—with relief, it appears.

Enops stands in the doorway with the wooden shaft of his barbed weapon still clutched in his hand. Although the red glow has faded, I know that its tip is still painfully hot. I wonder what I will do if he tries to prevent us from leaving. Then he steps aside, and Ariadne, and then I, and then Artemis pass through the door.