Eight: Ambush
Icarus
I wake up to the sound of shouts from the street, cart wheels rolling past, horses pounding the ground flat and women chatting. That's what I can tell anyway. I lie here for a while, listening to the unfamiliar city. Listening to its dusty noise and thinking that sometime, so many years ago, this was my real life. Not a quiet, dark, stone circle, but a light airy room which held nothing between me and the outside world but a thin wooden door.
Nothing but a thin wooden door.
If I wanted, I could leave. Roam around the city, run through the streets. I could breathe in all the different smells. I – I have no money, so I couldn't buy anything. I'm still a bit weak, so I could only run for seconds. I haven't been here for years, so I don't know where I'm going. I'd get lost.
But no one would punish me for it.
Right here, right now, even if everything goes wrong after I leave this room, I'm… I'm…
'Free.'
The word breaks out of my mouth like it's been dying to be itself for the longest time.
I'm free.
There's a weird sound, coming out of somewhere in me. It's laughter, I know laughter, but it's never from the inside. Always somewhere out there, but now, its here in me.
'I'm free.'
The words taste nice.
'Nothing… but a thin wooden door.'
Clack clack!
A knock sounds out from said wooden door.
'Pardon my intrusion, the master told me to bring your breakfast to you this morning.'
I sit up suddenly, nearly whacking my head on the wall.
'Uh, yeah, sure. Come in.'
Narcissus' slave girl, the one he seems to really like, slides into the room, her eyes dropping downwards. She must realise that it's only me and not her beautiful master, because she lifts her head as soon as she places the little tray on the bedside table.
'How are you feeling?'
'Yeah, better thanks.'
I've never been able to tell her age, she could be thirteen or nineteen for all I know. Her face is young but her voice is kinda deep: her lips stretch around words slowly then release them in an unsteady rhythm. I'm not sure Greek is her first language. Today her rust coloured hair's pulled back into a simple braided bun. It shines in the sunlight. Dark freckles sit on her skin like ochre. I think she's pretty?
'I-'
It's weird being served like this, not just being ignored or talked down to or even… never mind. Every time I see her I want to ask her name, but always found it too awkward – especially when Narcissus is in the room. Which he's not today. She waits, like she's expecting something from me.
'You can go now.' I finally stutter out, completely useless as per usual.
She smiles a small, fragile seeming smile, then leaves.
I chew slowly on my wheat bread (without the soaking wine). I'm still not used to the taste of actual fresh bread – in the tower its usually stale with some sort of vegetable broth. I think the guards put extra mould in there on purpose. But out here everything's full of flavour and solid and fresh. Fresh food, fresh water, fresh people…
It's been… I don't know. A few weeks I think? In four weeks I've met more people than I have in seven years, even though I was out cold for half the time.
Yet I still don't know how to talk to any of them.
I'm hardly into my second bite when the door swings back open and Narcissus strides in. He hasn't changed clothes from yesterday, and his sea green eyes are slightly red round the edges, like Dad's get when he thinks too much about Mum, or freedom, or –
'Are you feeling any better?'
He barks, he's loud and harsh –
'Y-yes, much-'
'Great, you ready to go find your dad?' he chirps and snaps at the same time, false brightness in his voice. I'm tempted to ask about how the temple journey went, but something tells me it wouldn't be a great idea.
'Well, yeah, sure. But can I get dressed first?'
He smirks tightly, then backs out the way he came, waving five perfect fingers as he goes.
'Five minutes. Come on we've got tracks to make!'
The door shuts once more.
Okay, something's not right with him. I think I preferred it when he was distracted.
Narcissus
The things we do for love.
Beseeching Aphrodite is no small task I can tell you. Gifts and offerings aside, those priestesses can be very demanding. I mean its all well and good when you're the one who gets to manipulate people. But the one reason I hate going to that place is because they knowwhen you want something, need something from them. Of course, they would: holy people can smell desperation, and those in love are the most desperate sorts
– not that I'd ever call myself desperate –
Still, what's done is done. I shouldn't complain, there are worse ways to worship.
Taking that long, arduous night of "love"-making into consideration, you can hardly blame me for being slightly on edge as I now have to drag myself around Athens to find some insane architect who thought that humans flying was a good idea. On about two hours of sleep.
The things I do for this child.
Upon advice from our host (who gave me the strangest look when I asked for Daedalus the architect, which is a great sign) we began our search in the town centre. Though the last census Athens had occurred at least two years ago, and the boy only dropped from the sky last month, maybe they'd have a previous record of their lodgings up until their imprisonment?
But no luck. The only thing we received was again, that strange look, a frown of disdain here, a word on the tip of the tongue there, never quite spoken –
'I wouldn't know anything about… that man. Not since he disappeared, long, long time ago. A bad business, very bad. Cursed us all he could have,'
was the most I got out of anyone – a doddering old judge with hard, black little eyes (which only softened ever so slightly at the sight of my face). That made me more suspicious about this so-called Daedalus than anything, however I know when to keep things to myself. I learned that long ago. Seemed to go right over Icarus' head, which was a small mercy, otherwise I wouldn't have heard the end of it.
So, we found ourselves back in the marketplace (Icarus assured me that he'd be able to handle it this time). The power of gossip and a breath-taking smile gets you far, and we were eventually directed towards a man by the name of Iapyx the healer, which is where we're headed now. Apparently he's known for miles aro-
Fuck.
Wherever there's water, there he is. The corner of my eye catches his figure like a net catches fish. I can't look directly at him. I can't. He's got eyes like spirals, they hypnotise and draw you in.
But I can't move on either. It's the strangest thing, love. Makes you say and do all sorts of nonsense. Like standing in the middle of a busy marketplace, trying not to stare into some random amphora jar. How would he even get there? Trust me to fall for some sort of spirit, a male water nymph? A god? A god would be the only one stunning enough to capture my attention anyway, to make me fall like this.
'-cissus! Move!'
I barely register the frantic hiss in my ear before I'm knocked sideways into the dark entryway of a building. I hear a shatter: a sharp pain in my palms brings me back to now, and I realise I'm clinging onto a piece of broken pottery. The air smells damp.
'What the-'
'Ssh!'
'Icarus, if you don't let go of me in five seconds I'll be forced to do something I might regret.'
His arms release my sides but a voice, terrified and verging on desperate, edges across the air.
'It's Minos, he's here.'
'What?'
I scramble off the floor, glancing towards the bustle of the marketplace. I squint out into the light. It takes a while but there they are, bright as day. The crest of Crete shines amongst the colours, gold and purple blending into uniform grey. For a second my heart pounds, but I try to reassure him -
'Icarus, they're only soldiers. There are soldiers from other states here all the ti-'
I turn just in time to catch the metal rod before it strikes him in the head. I barely have time to register the dark eyes behind the weapon as they take aim at me next.
Icarus
I'm standing, and then Narcissus is pushing me away, and then, and then, and then he falls and I can't see, my eyes haven't adjusted but there's someone here, and they hit Narcissus – right in the head – and they're coming for me next – it must be another Minoan soldier, they saw us come in and oh crap I'm panicking, Narcissus isn't moving, I try to get him up but the man, he's standing over us and he's stopped –
H – he's moving. He's moving but I can't move Narcissus. I feel his head – there's a lump, I can't tell if the dampnesss is sweat or blood -
A candle comes to life.
I can't move him. If the man gets me we're both screwed –
– I'm running –
– sorry Narcissus –
I'm running. Out into the light, past the other soldiers, did they notice? I'm running, through the crowds and my feet weave through streets, they remember these streets like they did the labyrinth as long as I don't think about it, as long as I don't try to remember, they'll take me back to the house, to help.
I'll come back, with help. I promise.
I promise.
