12 - Troubled facts

With long steps Achilles made his way through the Greek camps, walking unhurriedly, with no direct purpose in mind. His light-blue eyes stared thoughtfully ahead of him. It had been a long time since he had had to think deeply into a certain matter, more specifically into the matter of his captive, the girl, Niera. With a grimacing shake of his head Achilles swung east, back towards the wave-strewn beach. Even now he could see her face, those eyes in that oddly defiant and fearing face, he had never before seen such changing emotions in a person. Niera was impossibly capable of great feeling, whether hate or love. It was strange how she was troubling him, Achilles reflected, his broad face set in a thoughtful look. But then, this was no ordinary captive, Calchus, the like in power of mind that Achilles had ever seen, had sensed something in the girl, something that had fought against him. He had said as much. Achilles had been somewhat hesitant about leaving Niera to herself, alone in his abode, but he was confident that even her with all her seemingly courage would not take his warning in vain. He did not think she would leave it, not if she had any thought on the wisdom of the matter. A light footstep from behind him caused him to swing around quickly, the rugged form of Odysseus was standing behind him, face set in a greeting smile.

"Thinking are you Achilles"

The tone was that of joking fun but there was a layer of seriousness also. Achilles returned the greeting with a nod of his own, his eyes turning back to the tossing waves stretching out before him.

"Thinking I am."

He replied quietly, knowing Odysseus would have more to say.

"I thought that was my pursuit friend, you would mean to take my reputation as cunning."

Odysseus's laugh sounded in the air, his blue eyes gazing curiously at Achilles.

"Your thoughts are troubling you are they not"

He asked more quietly, guessing half at the reason. Achilles swung back once more towards Odysseus, it was hard to hide much of anything from the Ithican ruler. Lowering himself Achilles sat hunched upon the sand, his gaze again leaving Odysseus for the landscape.

"Where is Calchus"

He asked abruptly, dismissing Odysseus's question. Odysseus looked on knowingly, his face turning in a sly smile that he was perhaps best known for.

"He makes camp to the west side, near the end of the tents."

Odysseus paused briefly before continuing, thinking on his words carefully.

"It concerns the girl doesn't it"

Achilles face remained motionless as he answered, his voice low.

"It does."

The statement did not invite further discussion in that area and Odysseus did not press the issue. Smiling once again the older man turned as though to leave but stopped and turning his head back towards Achilles he spoke,

"Remember Peleus's son, if you need my counsel, my aid, you have but to ask."

With that he turned and moved away leaving Achilles sitting on the sand, his face turned stonily seawards. Odysseus's words hung in the air as Achilles suddenly smiled, it was good to know friends among enemies. He remained there for some time, motionless, his thoughts intertwining and tangling amidst the contours of planning. He had come to this war for one purpose, glory, renown. He had yet to win that, indeed, he had yet to fight a battle. The scrimmage on the beaches could not be counted as real fighting. Pitched battle still lay ahead unless by some twist of odd fate the gods saw fit to end this war before it began in earnest. Somehow Achilles doubted that even if the gods intervened could this war be prevented, too much had happened, to many threads of life twisted to cross in the ways of battle. The fates had already spun the backdrop, all that was needed was for the weave to be filled in. It must have been an hour later when Achilles finally rose, grains of sand clinging to his robes as he moved with haste towards the west end of the Achaean camps. He needed to see Calchus, there was much to ask, much that needed knowing and if anyone could answer his questions the wise-man could. It was sometime later, after making his way through countless tents, that Achilles came to where a large richly embroidered tent was pitched, a guard stood stoically outside of it and acknowledged Achilles with a deep bow.

"Is your master inside"

The question was fired in an abrupt tone, the guard glanced once at Achilles impatient figure before motioning the warrior to wait as he ducked inside the tent returning a short while later holding the flap open for Achilles to enter. Calchus was sitting stiffly, his ever-present staff nearby at his hand, his white hair hanging despondently about his head, his clouded eyes regarded Achilles knowingly before motioning him to be seated. Achilles sat, his own eyes intent and serious.

"I know why you are here"

Calchus spoke haltingly, his face as intent as Achilles.

"The child. You wish to know of her."

There was no question in the words and Achilles merely nodded. He did not need to ask why the old one knew of his purpose in coming, all he needed were explanations. There was much he needed to know.

"The child is not of our world. Her essence is... foreign. I can not say how this is, or why, the gods and the girl alone know this."

Achilles leaned forward impatiently,

"Can she foretell old one? Is there a power in her that can aid us in this war, that can help us overpower the trojans"

The words came forcefully, biting their way into open air. There was a blanket of heavy silence for a long moment.

"The girl has power that is not common, a sorceress perhaps. Foretelling also there may be. I can not be certain, I read signs, omens, I can not foretell myself. The gods reveal what they will to me. The girl is shielded from my inner sight, I may only view her with such tools as you yourself have. There is power, it is not for me to say how it may be used. She is dangerous Achilles. Perhaps to herself more than any other. Such actions as that that earned her Agamemnon's wrath are wisely kept in check."

Calchus's cracked voice stopped, his dusky eyes flickering unsteadily in the dim light of the tent. Achilles own were not averted, his forehead wrinkled in concentration of thought. Finally he spoke, his voice now soft and low, his tone menacing.

"Then what there is to be learned must be gotten from the girl herself. I take that upon myself to discover."

Calchus was merely silent, his gaze now sharper and his look keenly observing. Without further words Achilles stood and pushing back the tent cover strode with purpose towards his own tent.