Chapter XII #2
“Glaukopis!” Apollonia seems to be trying to regain control. She’s put on the gauntlet Kallisto abandoned and is holding her own arm up. “Glaukopis, here!”
Glaukopis stops chasing Kallisto for a moment and lands on a perch near Apollonia. Then Kallisto takes her chance and dashes out the barn door. Glaukopis’s eyes whip back to her. My heart plummets.
Don’t do it. Please don’t do it.
The owl takes one more look at us, then launches itself from the perch and out of the barn.
“No!” I feel something in my chest plummet.
Apollonia and I run out the open door, but it’s to no avail.
Already, I can see Glaukopis’s white body growing smaller as he soars down and into the city of Athens.
I turn around quickly, worried that someone else has seen, but to my immense relief, the surrounding lawns are empty.
“Where did Kallisto go?” Apollonia asks.
“Probably somewhere to hide,” I say bitterly. There’s a small consolation in knowing that she won’t be in a hurry to tell anyone what’s happened. I turn to Apollonia. “What do we do?”
“We tell Eupraxia,” says Apollonia firmly. “We’ll tell her what Kallisto did. She’ll be punished instead of us.”
I shake my head. “If what you said about Kallisto’s family making a generous donation to the temple is true, I don’t know that she’ll be punished at all.
” And that still won’t bring Glaukopis back, I think privately.
That seems a far bigger problem. I think of the ritual from our first night at the temple, of the young priestess who brought Glaukopis forward.
I’m not sure what the temple will do without its emblem. I’m not sure I want to find out.
Now Apollonia looks to be on the verge of tears. “I don’t know what else we can do.”
We both still have gauntlets on our arms. An idea comes to me.
“We could get him back,” I say quickly. “If we go down into the city with food for him, we could try to lure him to us. Owls are nocturnal, he’ll be disoriented in the daytime. He can’t have wandered far, and he’s bound to land somewhere down there.”
Apollonia looks uncertain. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Meddy.”
I stare at her. “Why?”
“It’s…” She seems to be struggling with something. “We’re not supposed to leave the Acropolis. Eupraxia said so, remember?”
“Surely if we’re acting within our duties as acolytes—”
“It’s not just that,” she goes on. “Women aren’t supposed to be in the city unattended. It’s…frowned upon. We may get in trouble.”
I look in the direction I last saw Glaukopis fly. I remember the way the priestesses of the temple gazed at him during the ritual, and what Apollonia said before. The bird is more than just a temple pet; he is the living symbol of the goddess we are all meant to serve.
I make up my mind. “We’ll get in more trouble if something happens to him,” I reason. “Come on, let’s go.”
I’d thought that I understood the scope of Athens when Hermes and I first flew over it days before. As Apollonia and I make our way through its streets, I realize just how wrong I’ve been.
I peek out from under the transparent white veil I’ve donned.
Beside me, Apollonia is wearing one, too, both of us hoping to obscure our faces.
My heart pounds as we trek farther into the city’s bustling crowds.
The people I saw from the sky are suddenly very real, close enough to touch.
Some of them do touch me as they pass, knocking into me and jostling me left and right, but it doesn’t upset me; I relish it.
We pass fishermen, butchers, potters, and other artisans.
Eventually, we reach a grass courtyard teeming with even more people.
“This is the Agora,” Apollonia explains. “It’s the city’s main marketplace.”
I stare in wonder. The Agora is crammed with stalls arranged side by side.
I try, and fail, to take everything in. All my life, my knowledge of the world beyond my island came in fragments—from trinkets washed up on its shores without context, or from half-remembered stories from those forced to serve my parents.
Through them, I thought I had gleaned an understanding of mortal practices.
Now I see there is so much I don’t know.
The stalls I pass are crammed with ripe fruits and vegetables I’ve never seen before and desperately want to taste; people shout across the courtyard in tongues I’ve never heard, pointing and gesturing to the goods they want.
There’s something else I also notice: The people of Athens don’t all look the same.
In fact, they come in a wide variety of shapes, sizes, and colors.
We pass a group of tall, muscular men with skin far darker than mine and thick woolly hair that reminds me of Theo’s; seconds later, I see a woman with milk-pale skin and a sheet of straight, glossy blond hair that stops at her knees.
The gods who visited our island may have had different skin tones, too, but I’ve never seen so much variation in one place all at once.
“Stay close,” Apollonia warns. “It’s easy to get lost here.”
I do my best to keep in step with her as we move with the flow of the foot traffic, but my eyes continue to wander.
One heavyset man sitting on a stool is holding up beaded leather sandals and shouting; another skinnier one farther down is surrounded by carved statuettes of the Olympians.
I read the tiny inscriptions carved into each one and laugh to myself as I identify Hermes, Dionysus, and Hera before thinking of how much Theo would enjoy all this.
I’m so distracted that I don’t notice the oxcart barreling our way until it’s almost upon us.
“Meddy!” Apollonia reaches out to grab my hand, but it’s too late. The crowd parts as the cart cuts right through it. Apollonia is pulled left, while the crowd carries me to the right. Once the cart has passed, I look for Apollonia, but she’s gone.
No. I try to stem my panic. I don’t know the first thing about navigating Athens on my own.
Everything around me seems to be in constant motion, making it impossible for me even to get my bearings.
I lift my veil and rotate in place once, then a second time.
The third time, tears well in my eyes. I think, with dread, of what might happen if I don’t return to the Acropolis by nightfall…
I crane my neck, searching desperately, but someone knocks into me and sends me flying back.
Instinctively, I reach out, looking for anything that might break my fall, and grasp the edge of a stall filled with figs.
In seconds, I’ve steadied myself, but the same can’t be said for several of the figs.
I watch with dread as at least three on the edge roll right off the stall and disappear under the crowd’s pounding feet.
When I look up, the stall’s owner, a sun-browned, dark-haired woman, is glaring at me.
“You’ll pay for every one of them!” She’s already coming around the stall. “That was good produce!”
“I-I’m sorry,” I say in my best Greek.
“Two drachmae!” She holds her hand out, expectant.
New anxiety courses through me. I’ve forgotten about this particular mortal practice.
Here, people pay for goods with whatever currency is used in their own land.
I think of my small collection of foreign coins back home and suddenly wish I’d had the foresight to bring them.
The older woman’s eyes turn to slits as she examines me.
It’s clear I’m carrying nothing on my person but the owl gauntlet.
I start to back away, but she snatches my bare upper arm and holds tight. My veil slips, exposing my face.
“You little rat,” she seethes. “You give me my money!”
I struggle against her. “I’m sorry, I don’t have any—”
“I’ll send for the magistrate!” The woman’s voice grows shriller. Around us, people are beginning to stare. “Don’t think I won’t! You know the punishment for theft in this city? The whip.”
My mouth goes dry. I am afraid of being flogged, but I am more afraid of what will happen if I am jailed and fail to return to the temple. Will I be dismissed from service? My heart begins to pound, blood roars in my ears.
“Magistrate!” the old woman shouts, shaking me. “Someone call the magistrate! This girl’s a thief, she—”
“Excuse me,” says a new voice. “But that won’t be necessary.”
The old woman and I both look up in surprise. A boy has materialized out of the bustling crowd. He looks to be my age, tall, lanky, and tanned. He also looks entirely unruffled by the disturbance we’ve caused. Before the peddler woman can speak, he holds up a small leather coin purse.
“This should cover the price of the figs,” he says in a low voice, dropping it into her hand. “Plus a little more for your trouble.”
The woman’s free hand closes around the purse instantly. I don’t know much about Athenian currency, but I suspect the amount inside it is far more than two drachmae. She stares from the purse to the young man, speechless.
“I…?”
The young man pries her fingers from my arm.
“Have a good day,” he says, tactfully pulling me out of her reach.
The woman mutters something unintelligible before turning back to her remaining figs.
Gradually, the surrounding vendors return to selling their wares, too.
The young man jerks his head left, and I follow him down the road.
Once we’ve reached a slightly less busy area, we both slow.
“Thank you,” I say.
The boy waves me off. “It was nothing.”
“It wasn’t nothing,” I press. “You helped me, and you don’t even know me.”
“I know you’re wearing a veil.” He nods to my head. “My guess is you work at the temple. Are you a priestess?”
“Acolyte,” I correct, looking away. “I’m in training, though probably not for much longer.”
The boy’s brow furrows. “Why?”
“I’ve lost something, something important.” Even as I say the words aloud, a little more hope leaves me. “I came into the city to try to find it.”