The Island of Thira, Somewhere in the Aegean
Waves slapped against the hull of the Helios, foaming across eyes and a sunburst painted above the ship's bronze beak. The Helios was a two-decked galley. The Queen waited patiently, her pale, white eyes shaded by a hood. The sea was quiet, limpid and azure.
"Ah, here they are at last."
A single-decked galley with flanks of silver gray sped across the water towards the Helios. The Queen watched as the Herakles drew alongside. A flute trilled and oarswomen backed oar and the swift galley shuddered to a halt. On its simple deck-no more than a plank walkway down the middle of a rowing gallery-stood a woman in gray and shining white.
"Greetings, sister!" The Queen's voice carried easily over the water. "Good day."
There was no reply. The gray ship drifted closer. The Queen could see that the woman was very old, with fine white hair and a wrinkled yet regal face. Amused, the Queen drew back her hood. She saw the white figure stiffen, but there was still no reply.
"You have forgotten how to welcome a guest," the Queen said. "No matter. I have something of yours. Send over a boat, and we'll load it aboard."
"We want," came the thin voice of the woman, "nothing from you, Queen of Cats. Take yourself and your malice away from our shores."
"You want nothing from me? Then why come forth out of your sanctuary? Ah, but I know-curiosity. You wondered if the old tales were true, if the warnings and admonitions need carry any weight. Well, are your questions answered?"
"We have no questions for you, nor seek any answers. Your welcome was exhausted long ago. Begone!"
With that, the woman in white turned away. Two of her attendants stepped to her side, leading her back to a chair affixed to the deck. The Queen sighed. Now that she was here, seeing the arrogance of the Matron, she wondered why she had come at all. Was there some sentiment left in her after all these centuries? She realized, standing on the deck, feeling the sea wind ruffle her long hair, that she was tired of hiding in the dark. Her kingdom, once so prized, had dwindled to only a handful of outcasts and refugees. Even they were under a pain that she could not lift.
Her hand rose to her mouth, then clenched into a fist. Enough!
"Matron," she called out sharply, "you may ignore a guest, but I will fulfill my ancient duty. You may call me a traitor and the first of the fallen, but I know the duty of one sister to another. Nothing binds me to this act, yet I will satisfy honor."
On the deck of the Herakles, the Matron of the Island looked up. The Queen could see a look of grim surprise on the old woman's face.
"One of my servants discovered the body of a sister. I have brought her here to find that peace in death that eluded her in life. Will you take your lost daughter? Then I will go and leave you in peace."
The two ships rode on the swell in silence for a time, then the Matron roused herself from her chair and motioned that a boat be prepared. The attendants, and the captain of the galley, argued with her in low tones, and the Queen smiled, hearing all that they said. At last, the Matron stepped down into a shallow boat and was rowed across to the Helios.
The Cat-Eyed Queen reached down and helped her into the ship. The Matron felt tiny and birdlike in her hands. The old woman's eyes were quick, flitting across well-worn planks and rowing benches.
"Where is this lost daughter of mine?"
The Queen pointed to the funeral bier and the still, pale figure lying there.
"Here she is. She is not very lively, I fear."
The Matron stalked down the deck, staff tapping in counterpoint to her footsteps. She reached the bier and there was a sharp hiss of indrawn breath. Then the old woman reached out a trembling hand and gently touched the pale, pink cheek of the girl.
"She breathes," the Matron sighed.
"But she does not live," the Queen said in melancholy tones. "This is how she was brought to me."
"How did this happen?" The Matron turned abruptly.
"A man killed her," said the Queen, her voice soft. "A man she loved, who loved her in turn."
"She is not dead," the Matron snapped. "She is in perfect health. Where is her spirit?"
"Gone across the dark river," the Queen answered patiently. Yet, she thought, perhaps the skills of the Order have decayed over the long years. What I see, this old, tired woman may not. "Like all the shades of the dead. This man restored her body, hoping to rectify his mistake. Now the shell walks and breathes but is bereft of the guttering spark which makes us live."
"Who is this man?" The Matron was angry now, staring down at the girl. "I will not suffer to see one of us made a plaything or a toy."
"I do not think," the Queen interrupted sharply, "that he intended that she be a toy. I have met him, seen them together. He is wracked with guilt. He loved her very much. You should take this body and send it to the sky, as is proper."
The Matron leaned towards the Queen, old eyes bright with interest. "Who is this loving murderer? Tell me, for I wish to pay him back in kind."
"I think," the Queen said, "you should keep to your island. If you seek this boy out, you will find him beyond your power to punish. I have had some traffic with him, to my loss. His is a twisty mind, filled with traps baited by love and friendship."
The Matron angrily ground the ferrule of her staff into the deck. "No man harms a sister! The Goddess' arrows will find him, put madness in his eyes and tear out his heart! Tell me his name."
"No," the Queen said. "Would you set dear Artemis against Apollo? Was not the slaughter of Troy enough for you? This is a matter where the gods play! Stay inside, by the hearth, content in the strength of your doors!"
"A god did this?"
"Enough like one, I think. Have a care, Matron! The might of the Order has waned since the Drowning. You believe yourself a power, directing servants from this hidden place, but the world is changing, and the strength of your island fastness may soon be tested."
The Matron looked back at the towering walls of Thira. They seemed indomitable.
"You think it a strong place," the Queen said urgently. "But its strength is in being unseen. If you strike against this man, your hiding place will be revealed."
"This is not like you, to show such concern. What is your price?"
The Queen laughed, brilliant dark hair shifting like a cloud around her long neck and pale, white shoulders. She put a hand to her lips, almond-shaped nails glittering in the fading light. "You have books filled with lists of my crimes, Matron. Do you believe them all? There is no price for this girl! She is an innocent. I once swore the same oaths that you did: to help my sisters, to deliver them from danger, to work in all ways to serve the Goddess and protect the helpless."
"You? Help the helpless? Prey upon them seems more like it! Your name is black in our annals, bending your head to that man and doing his will."
The Queen stepped back, face washed with furious anger. She knew her own history well enough, she did not need reminding by some child! Her hand rose; the air distorted like a broken mirror as power flooded from the sea. The Matron blanched, then squared her shoulders, putting her staff forward.
"Go ahead, outcast. Strike me down. I have lived a long, full, natural life. I see no need to exceed my allotted span."
The Queen considered, then she laughed and waved the power away. Wind skipped across the waters at her motion, making the rigging creak and the light shape of the Herakles dance on the sea swell. "No. Come, take your sister. I have spent enough time in your pleasant company."
The Matron nodded, then called to the rowers in the boat. "Attend me, there is a body to be moved."
The Cat-Eyed Queen laughed again, this time in merriment.
"Matron, Matron… haven't you listened? There is no need of this burden. Watch."
Turning to the girl on the bier, the Queen leaned close and whispered softly. The girl moved, sitting up, and swung her legs off the funeral bed. With the same motion, she gathered up a robe and stood. The Matron stifled a gasp.
"Child," the Queen said, "go with this woman."
"Enter the boat," the old woman said. The girl walked to the ladder at the side of the ship, then climbed swiftly down, her movements graceful. The two rowers helped her sit, though they were loath to touch her pale skin.
"You see? She is quite biddable."
The Matron did not answer, hurrying to enter the rowboat herself.
The sun set, leaving the sky brilliant with stars and the sea gleaming with silver light. The Queen watched and waited, standing at the railing, until she was sure the sisters had returned safely to the hidden lagoon and the sea caves housing their ships. While she lingered, the Walach boys padded out onto the deck and took their places at the rowing benches.
"Take us away," the Queen said at last, "I will tell you when to stop."
Oars ran out, hissing into the water.
"Half a beat," she called out, pulling up her hood. "There will be watchers on the cliffs; let them see our wake bright on the dark sea."
The oars bit into the water and the Helios moved, slowly at first, but picking up speed. The Queen did not look back, but watched the sea ahead with glittering eyes. It had been a long time since she had plied these waters. Care was called for, among the peaks of the drowned mountains.