Chapter 15 #2
The metal bar slid back with a clink. The guard didn’t have time to reply as voices came echoing down the corridor. He yanked open the door. Sunlight blinded Danae as he pushed her up a flight of steps.
“Run!”
She hesitated for a heartbeat, then her legs jerked into motion.
She squinted against the glare, her eyes adjusting to the brightness of the outside world.
She was in a small courtyard at the rear of one of the treasure houses that lined the sacred way.
Manicured cypress trees and bronze statues were positioned at precise intervals in front of the high walls, and mosaics swirled within uniform squares on either side of a gravel walkway.
She barely had time to take it in before her rescuer was behind her. He slammed and locked the door, then slipped his hand into hers and pulled her across the courtyard to the wall.
When they reached it, he dropped her hand and threw himself against an empty plinth.
To her surprise it toppled under his weight and smashed on the ground, revealing it to be hollow.
There was a hole in the base of the wall behind it, where the bricks had been removed, just large enough for an adult to crawl through.
“Go!” He removed his sword from his scabbard belt.
She didn’t hesitate this time. Heart thumping, she flung herself to the ground and crawled through the hole, ignoring the pain as the stone grazed her knees.
She emerged the other side and found herself in a bustling street.
Only the official buildings, dedicated to worship or hoarding offerings, were made of stone, but the holy city was swollen with a patchwork of wooden stalls and dwellings that had sprung up around them, selling goods to present to the oracle, or offering food and shelter to waiting pilgrims.
Danae barely had the time to take it all in before a sword clattered at her feet and the helmeted head of her rogue guard followed.
He was halfway through when he was suddenly yanked back. Danae lunged forward and grabbed his hands, gritting her teeth as she tried to pull him toward her.
“Let go,” he grunted.
“What?”
“Do it!”
She released him. There was a crash on the other side of the wall.
Her rescuer scrabbled forward and dragged himself through the gap. But before he could get to his feet, a hand lunged through the crack and clamped around his ankle.
Danae bent down and grasped the sword. It was so heavy she could barely lift it. She tried to jab the attacker’s arm but ended up swinging the blade dangerously close to her rescuer’s head.
“Holy Tartarus, watch it!”
He kicked out, but his assailant clung on like a limpet. Then he whistled.
A moment later, a mass of fur hurtled toward them and launched itself at the hand. There was a cry from beyond the wall and the now bloody arm retreated.
“Good boy, Lithos,” her rescuer panted as he straightened up.
The scruffy dog barked and jumped up at his master, tail wagging. He was a strange little creature with rugged chestnut fur, white paws and only one eye. The guard gave his pointed ears a hasty scratch.
“I’ll take that.” Danae’s guard grabbed the sword and once more took her hand. He grinned at the startled expression on her face. “Come on, you’re not safe yet.”
Just as the face of a furious guard emerged through the hole, the three of them disappeared into the crowd.
They pelted through the winding streets of Delphi.
Danae’s rescuer pulled her down narrow roads lined with colorful canopies, makeshift bathhouses and imposing official-looking buildings.
After the amount of running she’d done in the past week, she should be used to it, but by the time they ducked under the awning of a wine merchant’s shop, she was wheezing like an old goat.
The proprietor didn’t so much as blink as a guard, a dog and a ragged girl piled into his establishment.
They hurried past stacks of amphorae of all shapes and sizes. Danae’s guard brushed back a faded curtain at the rear of the shop and tugged her through. There was a small room behind, filled with a few more dusty amphorae and a battered desk scattered with scrolls.
Her rescuer set about rolling back the hessian mat and lifted the hidden trapdoor beneath, but Danae was distracted by a marking sketched in charcoal on the wall above the desk.
An apple tree.
Burning branches seared through her mind. She stumbled back. The rogue guard threw his sword down through the hole, then paused on the edge of the trapdoor.
“I’ll explain everything once we’re safe, but you need to trust me.”
Lithos scampered past Danae and leaped down into the cellar. There were voices behind her. Someone had just entered the shop.
Her options were limited. Whoever this man was, he’d freed her from almost certain death. And he’d promised her answers.
She lowered herself through the hole.
The trapdoor closed, and she was momentarily blind.
Then a candle flickered into being, throwing a ghoulish light on the helmeted face of her rescuer.
They were in a tiny cellar with walls of packed earth and just enough room to stand up in.
It seemed empty, save for a few amphorae and a pile of blankets that Lithos had already curled up in.
The rogue guard set the candle down on the floor and pulled off his helm. He sighed and ran a hand through his short hair. His tawny-beige complexion was flushed pink, and his hazel eyes danced in the flickering light.
Now the rush of the escape was over, Danae finally noticed the ill fit of his armor; the breastplate that was too long for his torso and the over-tightened sword belt.
“You’re a criminal, aren’t you?”
Her rescuer raised an eyebrow.
“What other kind of man would spring a prisoner from the jail?”
“I am no man.”
“Oh...” Danae’s brow creased. “I thought...because of the armor. So, you’re a woman?”
“I am no woman either.” At her confused expression, the guard’s mouth stretched into a lopsided smile. “Not everything fits into a box. I’m Manto.”
They continued to peel off the rest of their armor. Underneath they wore a simple brown tunic. “We can’t stay here long. Nicolau upstairs is one of us, but the guards will be searching the city, especially this close to the sanctuary.”
From the shadows, Manto rolled out a large amphora, stuck their arm inside and tugged out a bundle of black fabric followed by a bag.
They proffered Danae what appeared to be a long black dress, then stripped off their tunic and shoved on a matching black robe of their own. Then they pulled out a knife.
Something inside Danae snapped. She was tired of running, tired of being afraid, tired of not knowing what was happening to her.
“Stop!” She balled the fabric in her fists. “You promised me answers, now tell me what in Tartarus is going on?”
Manto stared at her for a moment, then bobbed their head like a servant would to their master.
“Of course, sorry. I need to cut your hair so we can both disguise ourselves as seers.”
Danae eyed the knife with alarm. “You want to do what to my hair?”
“You’ll be less recognizable. Seers often come to Delphi, so it will allow us to move freely.” Manto’s mouth curled into another crooked smile as they held up the knife.
Danae chewed her lip.
“All right.”
Manto set to work, clumps of thick brown hair falling around Danae like leaves blown from a tree.
When they were finished, she tentatively lifted her hands to her head and explored her crop.
The nape of her neck felt strangely cold.
She’d never been particularly fond of her hair.
Her mother always told her it was difficult and unsightly, but it had been hers.
The further she traveled from Naxos, the more she felt herself crumbling away, like the stones of the sea-buried temple eroded by the tide.
“Put the dress on,” Manto prompted.
Danae self-consciously slipped out of her tattered tunic and squirmed into the dress. It tied at the waist and under her breasts like the robes of the priestesses of Athena. It wasn’t as soft as the novice’s cloak but compared to her old tunic it felt like silk.
She stared down at the midnight fabric and was suddenly uneasy, but was quickly distracted by Lithos trotting over from his nest of blankets to sniff her discarded hair.
She eyed the dog warily.
“He won’t bite.” Manto scratched the coarse fur behind his ear. “Well, he won’t bite you.” They moved toward the trap door. “We can’t stay here. We need to get to the safe house before nightfall. Then I promise I’ll tell you everything.”
Manto jumped and pushed back the door with a muffled clunk. The sudden gust of air blew out the candle. They lifted Lithos up, then turned to Danae.
“I just want to say...it’s an honor.”
Danae’s brow creased, but Manto had already hauled themselves through the trapdoor.
Manto was right. No one paid either of them much attention as they navigated the streets of Delphi in their obsidian robes.
It was an unspoken rule that only seers wore black.
Danae tried not to think about what the penalty would be if they were caught in the disguise.
That would be the least of her problems if the guards of Apollo found her.
As the incline of the city rose, the buildings grew shabbier. She twitched whenever she heard a clink, expecting soldiers to burst around every corner.
“No one will bother you here,” Manto whispered. “Unless you’ve got something worth stealing.”
By the time they’d climbed high enough to leave the stone buildings behind, night had crept over the city. Below them, Delphi sprawled down the slope of Mount Parnassus, a mass of painted roofs, colored awnings and twinkling brazier lights. Above them was the gymnasium.