The Ship Beyond Time (The Girl from Everywhere #2)

 

 

“I’ve seen the future.”

 

“Have you?” He stepped closer, still peering at me with those empty eyes—but in them now, a spark. “So have I.”

 

Behind him, Dahut leaped to her feet, finally free of the ropes . . . but at the same moment, Crowhurst turned, as if he’d known. Had he? Grabbing her by the shoulders, he threw her face-first into the sparkling pool.

 

“No!” I dove for her as she thrashed in the water, but Crowhurst dragged me back.

 

“Didn’t see that coming, did you?”

 

I threw him off. Dahut had pushed herself to the edge of the water, but that blank look was back in her eyes. I backed away, grinding my teeth. Had Crowhurst truly seem the future? More questions—but I only wanted answers.

 

Before me, Crowhurst grinned. Behind me, the pit of the oracle.

 

I stepped backward into the dark.

 

This time the drop was short, and something soft cushioned my fall—a lamb, freshly killed. I swore, scrambling away. The eye still shone, the blood still dripped—a sacrifice. Crowhurst had come for knowledge after all.

 

Above my head, the circle of light was eclipsed by his figure—a colossus, a dark angel above the tomb. “You think you can learn the secrets of the universe?” he shouted down to me, his voice echoing in the cavern, mingled with the buzzing of bees. “You think you know how the game will end?”

 

I did not answer, and finally the light returned. I could see the hive now, humming at the lip of the cavern; bees flew back and forth through the cleft, in and out of the sun, and the ground around me was littered with insects, dead and dying. I had leaped without looking; there was no ladder back to the world above. I wasn’t trapped—I could see the map of the ship in the light streaming down—but how would I collect the Mnemosyne water?

 

My heart was pounding; the tattoo on my arm throbbed with each beat. I took a deep breath. The air was deathly cold and smelled of honey. Perhaps there was a way out through the dark. Peering into the shadows, I could see nothing beyond the circle of sunlight. But this was the cave of the oracle himself. And Trophonius was no wispy seer with a white rag over his eyes. He had murdered his own brother. How would he react to my arrival, and without a sacrifice to offer?

 

Maybe that would be the only question he answered.

 

I swore again, softly. Then I froze as a laugh returned, like an echo, from the dark. I swallowed. “Hello?” What else to say? “Ave?” Then I cursed again; that was Latin, not Greek.

 

The laugh came once more, and a voice, harsh and sibilant. “Such language.”

 

My response was immediate. “You speak English?” Irritation overcame awe. “Stop laughing.”

 

Silence from the dark.

 

“Who are you?”

 

Silence, again, and the hum of the bees.

 

So I guessed. “Trophonius.”

 

“Nix.”

 

“How do you know my name?” I waited for an answer, growing impatient. “You’re not much of an oracle if you don’t answer questions.”

 

“Knowledge takes sacrifice.” The voice was almost a hiss.

 

“What kind of sacrifice?”

 

Silence in response.

 

“You won’t answer questions without one.” No answer. Of course. I bit my lip. “But I have nothing!”

 

A sigh. Or was it the wind rushing out of the cavern?

 

I glared into the dark. A sacrifice . . . I crouched, searching for movement on the floor. There. A honeybee, too old to fly, crawling painfully on the earth. The sphinx’s riddle came to mind: what has four legs in the morning . . . ?

 

But I was not here to answer questions. I was here to ask them. I plucked up the bee between my fingers; air hissed between my teeth when the sting came. The creature tore itself apart as the hot pain bloomed at the base of my thumb.

 

Laughter again. “Was that your sacrifice or the bee’s?”

 

“His death, my pain. Sacrifice is always shared.” Wincing, I scraped the stinger out of my flesh. “But I shouldn’t answer your question without a sacrifice of your own.”

 

I heard the smile in his voice. “Come closer.”

 

I hesitated only a moment, and then stepped out of the circle of light.

 

Beyond, the darkness was absolute. Slowly, blindly, I slid my feet forward along the floor of the cavern. It was smooth, polished by water or by hands, but the bodies of insects crunched and crumbled beneath my shoes. The scent of honey coated the roof of my mouth, as thick as though I’d eaten it. The drone of the hive seemed louder in the dark. At my next step, my toe hit something—something rounded and hollow. I froze as it rolled away into the dark, rattling. “What was that?”

 

When the answer came, I was not surprised. “My brother.”

 

I swallowed. “You kept his head?”

 

“It seemed only fair. I’m the one who took it.”

 

His voice echoed, seeming to come from nowhere and everywhere. My eyes skittered side to side, but I could see nothing, nothing but the heavy black. “But why?”

 

“A sacrifice.”