Read Online Lost in the Labyrinth by Patrice Kindl - Free Book Online
Authors: Patrice Kindl
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hidden in the bowels of the Labyrinth was one of the many reasons
I
would not wish to be the next queen. And besides, my wrist had begun to throb, although the doctor Asclepius had given me poppy juice in wine to ease it. Like Icarus, he did not believe that it was broken, only that the small muscles were torn and bruised.
We had been lucky. The arrival of the new Athenians meant that much less attention had been paid to our mishap than might otherwise have been the case. The servants who had been present on the mountaintop would now be dispersed to many households and have other things to think about. And the boy's parents would not speak of it. The child had escaped injury, and Lord Asterius was the queen's son.
So I comforted myself, and so I believed.
"Phaedra, Molus," I said quietly, "let us go to the kitchens and see if they will give us some dates to eat before the Presentation of the Athenians."
"Figs in honey." proposed Phaedra instead.
I shuddered, remembering Glaucus in his thick coating of honey. "No," I said. I picked the baby up with my uninjured arm, and Phaedra and I bowed to our mother and retired. She nodded and went back to listening to the keeper of the granaries speaking in a high, indignant voice about sixteen missing sacks of barley.
We the Keftiu are a people who enjoy celebration. There are many holidays, both major and minor, festive and grave, throughout the year. The Presentation of the Athenians is a modern rite, begun only twelve years ago. Since it is followed so soon after by the Festival of the Bulls, one of the great holidays of the year, it has over the years tended to flow into that celebration. The ritual is a solemn one, being in commemoration of the death of my brother Androgeus.
All of the attending populace wore their best mourning costumes as they gathered in the Bull Court, that central courtyard at the heart of the Labyrinth where most public occasions took place. Years ago, there had perhaps been a little more real grief as well as a good deal less jewelry displayed, but twelve years had come and gone since Androgeus had died in foreign lands, and people could not help but look forward to the festivities of the morrow with a cheerful face.
It might seem odd, this lengthy mourning for the death of a male child, but sons are always useful, and my parents had loved Androgeus dearly. I believe that much of the joy vanished from their lives when he did.
Today, however, both of my parents looked well content. The restoration of Glaucus almost on the anniversary of Androgeus's death seemed to have made gloom impossible. I wondered if this would be the beginning of forgetting for them both.
My mother wore her traditional mourning garments, but like many in the crowd she had decked herself with jewelry, and her eyes shone behind the mask of the Grieving Mother with a brightness not due to tears. My father, I noticed, bent down his head to speak with her, and she lowered her mask and smiled up at him. I could not catch the words, but the tone seemed unguarded and cheerful, as if they were exchanging family pleasantries. My spirits rose and I rocked the whimpering Molus on my knee to quiet him.
The musicians began to play a sorrowful dirge as a sign that the ceremony was about to begin. The crowd, recognizing its cue, groaned and cried and bewailed the death of Androgeus. Those who most hoped for royal favor tore at their elegant costumes. Some fell down on the ground and rubbed dirt into their faces and hair.
The new Athenians entered the Bull Court under guard.
Remembering what Icarus had said, I wondered what this must be like for them. If they believed that they were victims to be sacrificed to some dreadful beast, they would be terrified indeed. All were young, of about my age or a little older. I watched one. a girl with brown hair and small, delicate hands and feet. At first glimpse, I saw no signs of fear, but then as I studied her I realized that she had traveled far
I
would not wish to be the next queen. And besides, my wrist had begun to throb, although the doctor Asclepius had given me poppy juice in wine to ease it. Like Icarus, he did not believe that it was broken, only that the small muscles were torn and bruised.
We had been lucky. The arrival of the new Athenians meant that much less attention had been paid to our mishap than might otherwise have been the case. The servants who had been present on the mountaintop would now be dispersed to many households and have other things to think about. And the boy's parents would not speak of it. The child had escaped injury, and Lord Asterius was the queen's son.
So I comforted myself, and so I believed.
"Phaedra, Molus," I said quietly, "let us go to the kitchens and see if they will give us some dates to eat before the Presentation of the Athenians."
"Figs in honey." proposed Phaedra instead.
I shuddered, remembering Glaucus in his thick coating of honey. "No," I said. I picked the baby up with my uninjured arm, and Phaedra and I bowed to our mother and retired. She nodded and went back to listening to the keeper of the granaries speaking in a high, indignant voice about sixteen missing sacks of barley.
We the Keftiu are a people who enjoy celebration. There are many holidays, both major and minor, festive and grave, throughout the year. The Presentation of the Athenians is a modern rite, begun only twelve years ago. Since it is followed so soon after by the Festival of the Bulls, one of the great holidays of the year, it has over the years tended to flow into that celebration. The ritual is a solemn one, being in commemoration of the death of my brother Androgeus.
All of the attending populace wore their best mourning costumes as they gathered in the Bull Court, that central courtyard at the heart of the Labyrinth where most public occasions took place. Years ago, there had perhaps been a little more real grief as well as a good deal less jewelry displayed, but twelve years had come and gone since Androgeus had died in foreign lands, and people could not help but look forward to the festivities of the morrow with a cheerful face.
It might seem odd, this lengthy mourning for the death of a male child, but sons are always useful, and my parents had loved Androgeus dearly. I believe that much of the joy vanished from their lives when he did.
Today, however, both of my parents looked well content. The restoration of Glaucus almost on the anniversary of Androgeus's death seemed to have made gloom impossible. I wondered if this would be the beginning of forgetting for them both.
My mother wore her traditional mourning garments, but like many in the crowd she had decked herself with jewelry, and her eyes shone behind the mask of the Grieving Mother with a brightness not due to tears. My father, I noticed, bent down his head to speak with her, and she lowered her mask and smiled up at him. I could not catch the words, but the tone seemed unguarded and cheerful, as if they were exchanging family pleasantries. My spirits rose and I rocked the whimpering Molus on my knee to quiet him.
The musicians began to play a sorrowful dirge as a sign that the ceremony was about to begin. The crowd, recognizing its cue, groaned and cried and bewailed the death of Androgeus. Those who most hoped for royal favor tore at their elegant costumes. Some fell down on the ground and rubbed dirt into their faces and hair.
The new Athenians entered the Bull Court under guard.
Remembering what Icarus had said, I wondered what this must be like for them. If they believed that they were victims to be sacrificed to some dreadful beast, they would be terrified indeed. All were young, of about my age or a little older. I watched one. a girl with brown hair and small, delicate hands and feet. At first glimpse, I saw no signs of fear, but then as I studied her I realized that she had traveled far
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