Enchanted Fire Page 34

  Jason looked at her just a heartbeat too long before he smiled again and said, “You always think of the small things that solve a myriad of problems before they start.”

  Eurydice smiled. “That is the difference between a great sorceress and a small witch. The great ones have no need to worry about little problems—and mostly they are not too pleased to keep company with those of lesser Power, lest those learn too much.”

  The smile lingered on Jason’s lips, but it no longer lit a speculative gleam in his eyes. Eurydice was satisfied, but after they had Jason well covered with the salve and had broken their fast from a tray brought by a servant, Orpheus drew her back as they were going down to the audience chamber and asked angrily why she had said that.

  “You know why,” she replied, not caring if Medea ‘heard’. “Whenever I do something Jason thinks is clever, he starts to think of owning me again. I am nothing—to his mind—in comparison with Medea. I just made sure that he knows she will not tolerate me in her company.”

  “Stupid!” Orpheus muttered. “Did you not guess that he intends to take her with him when he leaves?”

  “Of course I did.”

  “Does it not occur to you that Jason might seek a reason to leave you behind if Medea does not desire your company aboard the ship?”

  “It occurred to me,” Eurydice answered coldly.

  “Did it also occur to you that Aietes might well seek out and punish anyone associated with Jason if he succeeds in taking away the golden fleece?”

  She shrugged. “Yes. I know I cannot live in Colchis, but for a while Aietes will be too busy worrying about Jason and whether there is some way he can get back his fleece to trouble himself about one small witch. There will be time enough to escape Colchis.”

  He stopped and caught her by the arms so she had to face him. “Did you say that to Jason to make him leave you behind? To force me to stay here with you? I will not. I have always told you I must go back to Greece.”

  “Then go,” Eurydice said. Her voice sounded strange to her, as if her lips were frozen, and it was not surprising if they were because she was so cold inside. “I only offered you a pairing until we came to Colchis. You are free to leave, as I am free to stay or to go elsewhere.”

  He stared at her, his eyes bleak and grey; then he let his hands slip from her arms and continued in the wake of the others. Eurydice followed, her body so stiff with shock that her movements were jerky, like a puppet. Her mind was nearly blank, playing over and over again her angry words and his silent response. She could not believe that Orpheus had simply accepted what she said without a word of protest.

  Eurydice was hardly aware of the meeting between Jason and Aietes and did not hear what they said to each other. She just followed numbly as the men went through the palace, out a door on the opposite side from the city below. She had never used that door; as far as she knew, there was only wild land beyond the palace in that direction.

  Aietes and Jason went through the doors, while the guards directed Mopsus, Orpheus, and Eurydice through the guardroom and up a stair which came out onto a wide balcony. The noise the bulls were making was deafening and Eurydice hung back for a moment, staring stupidly through the doorway at the outer wall. She was unable to understand what kept the bulls there until she realized that cross walls had been built between the palace and the outer wall creating a stone-walled courtyard. Numb with pain though she was, Eurydice put her hands to her ears as she stepped out onto the balcony.

  Once there, even grief could not dull her amazement at what she saw. The red-gold bulls, stamping and scraping at the stone-paved ground, were making almost as loud a din with their metal hooves as from their brazen throats. For metal they were, brass or bronze, but they were perfectly formed and, except for the way they gleamed, could have been taken for living creatures. The overlapping plates of which the bulls were fashioned could easily have been creases in a living animal’s flesh—narrow strips coming from under each segment of the band that ran from crown to shoulder so the neck could turn from side to side and rise up and down. Wider panels joined to form chest, barrel, arid haunches; rounded segments attached to natural looking joints made up the legs. All the parts slid against each other so smoothly with each movement that the motion seemed entirely natural.

  A many-throated shout drew her attention from the bulls. The crew of the Argo was coming out onto the top of the outer wall, the men shouting in amazement at the sight of the brazen bulls. That noise sent the creatures into a frenzy, and they rushed around the courtyard, gouts of yellow, rosy-tinged flame shooting from their mouths and nostrils. Into the midst of that chaos stepped Aietes, who shouted a single command. Eurydice tried to hear, but the word was garbled by the noise from the men and the bulls, which had stopped running but were still bellowing at the top of their lungs. No keen-hearing spell would be of any help, Eurydice knew, and bit her lip with chagrin.

  Nor was she more successful in hearing Aietes’ further commands. He stepped forward as soon as the bulls stood still and she could see he was carrying a double yoke with its two U-shaped neckpieces over his shoulder and an ox-goad in his hand. As he approached, the bulls pointed their brazen horns in his direction, shooting flame from their mouths and nostrils. He spoke again and the bull nearest him lowered its head a little, whether at the command or better to spout flame directly at Aietes, Eurydice could not guess. If the latter, it was a useless exercise.

  Ignoring the flame, which was now long tongues of yellow tinged with red, Aietes came right to one bull’s shoulder. Perhaps he spoke again; Eurydice thought so but could not hear, and Aietes used the goad to prod it closer to its companion. Although the spell words must have restrained the creature from running, at the touch of the goad, both flung their heads about and tried to gore Aietes. Standing just barely beyond the reach of the horns, with a practiced motion, he flung the yoke over both creatures’ necks.

  The moment the yoke fell true, all the violence stopped. The bulls still breathed fire, but no more than the normal puffs of breath of an animal after strong exertion. They were silent now and stood, seemingly as placid as well-broken oxen, while Aietes fitted the neckpieces and drove in the metal pins.

  Eurydice’s heart fell like a stone as she watched Jason’s actions. Medea had, very likely, taught Jason the spell words he would need, but no one could teach that practiced lift and turn of the heavy yoke to make it fall true over the necks of both creatures. And that, Eurydice was sure, was the key to the spell of obedience on the metal animals. On the other hand, if the cast failed, Eurydice thought, the spell might well be broken altogether, freeing the bulls to gore and trample their would-be master.

  The yoked bulls were silent and answered to the touches of the goad without hesitation or resistance. The watching men were awed into equal silence. In that quiet, the clinking of the pulling chains and the rattle of the plow that Aietes was fastening to the yoke sounded loud. When the plow was raised so it would travel without the coulter touching the ground, Aietes shouted and the double gates through the outer wall were opened. Jason hurried across the courtyard and went out the gate hard on Aietes’ heels. Mopsus and Orpheus rushed around the balcony to join the rest of the crew, who were running down the stairs of the guardroom and out the gate to follow Jason.

  Eurydice stayed where she was. She had seen fields ploughed before. With the compelling excitement of taming the bulls over, her own problems pushed the—to her—unimportant subject of Jason’s trials out of her mind. She walked slowly along the balcony to where a stone bench overlooked the rail, as if to provide a seat for a small audience to watch some action that took place in the stone courtyard. The courtyard was empty now, but the sun touched the end of the bench and Eurydice sat down there. It was still early enough for her to crave the warmth—or was it an inner cold rather than the morning air that chilled her?

  It was stupid, she told herself, to have hoped that Orpheus had changed his mind. She had been fooled over the weeks i
t took them to reach Colchis by his obvious delight in adventure, by his obvious delight in her, into thinking he would be content to talk of going home while continuing to wander with her until they found a place that satisfied them both and took that for his new home. She had thought that if Jason refused to take her farther—and he was well within his right to do so, as she had only bargained to be taken to Colchis—Orpheus would be delighted with the excuse to remain behind with her.

  Orpheus had said that his oath only bound him to help Jason obtain the golden fleece. That too had fooled her, letting her assume that he would be glad to have an excuse to leave the ship and crew once Jason had fulfilled his quest. She saw now that he must have made some kind of bargain with himself that permitted him to travel and enjoy his adventure as long as his oath to Jason bound him. When the quest was complete and Jason went home, however, he felt he must also do so.

  That left her few choices. She could simply leave Colchis now—this would be a good time when the men were all occupied and before Aietes had won or lost. She could go down to the harbor, get a little boat to take her across the river, and find a merchant ship that would be willing to take her anywhere that a Gifted person would be welcome. But she had little metal left to pay for a passage. She had not worked since they came to Colchis—she had been too busy about Jason’s business, she thought bitterly, and had also made a generous offering to the temple on his account. And there was no time now to earn, although she was sure the priestesses at the temple would recommend her, because Jason would…

  Would likely be dead this afternoon. What would happen then? Jason had given oath that his men would not try to get the golden fleece or to avenge him; Aietes had given oath that he would allow the Argo and her crew to leave Colchis in peace. So they would go. To stay would surely make Aietes believe they were seeking a way to get around Jason’s oath. Who would be chosen as leader then? Not Ankaios; he was too young and not forceful enough. Mopsus? Orpheus? It did not matter between them. Both would consider themselves honor-bound to return as swiftly as possible to Yolcos to report Jason’s death and the failure of his mission. But the whole point was not to go to Greece. Of course, it was a long, long journey. With Jason gone, the behavior of the crew or something else might convince Orpheus to leave the ship—but not if he had been chosen leader.

  A long, long journey. The words repeated in her mind. If Orpheus were not chosen leader… Better yet, if Jason succeeded—even if he took Medea with him… No, actually it would be better if he took Medea with him. That she-wolf would surely try to be rid of another witch and, while Orpheus’ conscience would not permit him to leave the home-bound Argo on his own, neither would it permit him to allow Medea to attack his woman. Eurydice had often seen how quickly he sprang to her defense, even against Jason, even when she did not need defending. How much more quickly would he defend her against a woman he did not like…and how long would Jason endure the quarrels and Medea’s demands that he be rid of her. In such a case, Orpheus would go with her, she was sure.

  Eurydice took a deep breath and began to feel the warmth of the sun comfort her body. Suddenly she took her lower lip between her teeth. Might Medea be so contemptuous of her that she would not care that Eurydice was also on the Argo, or not care enough to annoy Jason by asking him to be rid of her? She could, of course, encourage Medea to dislike her more intensely—but she would have to do that subtly, more subtly than she had spoken to Jason. Her lip slid free. There might be no need for any obvious act to irritate Medea. Eurydice was reasonably sure she had had no trouble with Medea only because she had effaced herself. Medea had seldom seen her since she learned Eurydice was Gifted. Eurydice suspected she need only obviously be there, on her usual good terms with the crew, and once or twice offer some advice to Jason. She smiled broadly. Yes, that would do it.

  In the midst of the smile, she uttered a sob. Fool that she was, fool! She was happy because she had somehow convinced herself to go along with Orpheus, to let him believe she had yielded and would go to Greece. But was it a pretense? Was she lying to herself about yielding? Not yet. Eurydice straightened her back. She had yielded so far that she would board the Argo for the homeward journey, if she must.

  However, she swore to herself that on the long journey she would go on planning to separate herself and Orpheus from the ship and try to wean him from the notion that Greece was the only place he could live. She was surprised, looking back, at how little they had spoken about it. She had hardly made a direct reference to her continued reluctance to go to Greece on the voyage to Colchis. She shook her head again. No wonder Orpheus had been shocked and angry.

  There was still a chance she could change his mind—but only if he had no call of duty or honor to return to Greece, which meant that he must not be chosen as leader, which meant that Jason must survive the trials. Well and so, she must do what she could to help Jason. The lip slid between her teeth again and this time she gnawed it. The greatest danger was setting the yoke on the bulls’ necks. She closed her eyes and tried to remember spells for strength and dexterity. She knew some but felt a strong reluctance to use them. Jason was by nature strong and dexterous. If the spell did more than enhance the natural ability, it might tangle up his response and do harm.

  As she continued to prod her memory for the kind of spell she needed, it suddenly occurred to her that Mopsus and Orpheus had not argued the hopelessness of the task. Neither had cried out in protest even after seeing that throw of the yoke… And then she remembered there had not been a sound from the rest of the men who were watching, either. Doubtless they had been surprised, but had they thought the task too formidable for Jason, perhaps they would have groaned or given some other sign of disappointment. She remembered, too, that Jason had not been raised as the son of a king but by his mother, far from the city he would rule. Most men, even noblemen, ploughed their own fields. Perhaps Jason was not so unacquainted with yoking a pair of oxen as she had thought. She need only warn him that the correct seating of the yoke might well be the key to the whole spell.

  Although Eurydice stood near the door, ready to run down to the corridor the moment Jason returned, she never got the chance to speak to him because he never came through the inner doors. First, she heard the noisy return of the crew to the balcony, then the outer gates opened and Aietes drove the bulls through, but neither he nor Jason moved toward the inner doors and Eurydice realized that the bulls would be released and reyoked without either man entering the palace. Grimacing with chagrin, she walked forward to watch.

  Aietes had already unhooked the plow from the yoke and prodded the bulls forward, away from it. Then, he removed the pins of the neckpieces, which he handed to Jason, followed by the neckpieces themselves and the goad. Finally, he came to the side of one bull, lifted the yoke—and the bulls came angrily to life. Both roared with rage and wheeled toward Aietes, blowing gouts of flame. Good sense would seemingly have dictated that he drop the yoke and run, and perhaps he would have done so, but Jason had come forward and seized it. Virtually tearing it from Aietes’ hands, he swung it over his shoulder—and shouted the spell word. The bulls stopped just short of Aietes who had leapt away when Jason grabbed the yoke. Each swung its horns viciously, but could not move until touched by the goad.

  Aietes turned toward Jason and nodded, acknowledging that if Jason had delayed invoking the spell of control over the bulls, he might well have been gored. Jason smiled.

  Eurydice clung weakly to the railing of the balcony. It seemed that Medea truly wanted Jason to succeed and had done more than teach Jason the words of the spell. Whatever her reason for not being present to watch Jason—Eurydice’s thought checked and ran off on a tangent: Would she have been able to watch Orpheus risk his life when she did not dare do anything to help him? Surely Medea’s father was able to sense her magic, so to help Jason would likely give Aietes the right to call the trial invalid. Could Medea’s absence have no greater significance than that she had truly fallen deep in love with
Jason and feared for him? Then surely she would go with him to Greece.

  Shaking her head, Eurydice thrust a quiver of sympathy aside and realized she had no real evidence that Medea was mad for love and would follow Jason aboard the Argo. Though it was possible that Medea had explained carefully to Jason the significance of the yoke, which was greater than Eurydice had suspected (she now guessed that the words of command would not work for anyone who did not hold the yoke), there was an alternative. Jason was clever. He might as easily have realized that he must do exactly whatever Aietes did. She saw, now that she had caught her breath, that he had placed the neckpieces over his shoulder in the same position that Aietes had worn them.

  Jason was slower than Aietes in approaching the bulls, more careful to avoid their flaming breath, more deliberate in positioning them, and he commanded both to lower their heads before he placed the yoke. He did not attempt to emulate Aietes’ skillful cast from the side either, but having tricked each bull into looking outward, slipped between the bulls’ heads, raised the yoke and dropped it to their necks before either could swing back to gore him.

  Eurydice did not bother to watch the rest of the process but walked around the balcony to join the men, who had just let loose a loud cry of triumph after their tense silence and were starting toward the stairs. She hesitated at the back of the group, staring outward as the gates were opened to let Jason drive the bulls through, uncertain of whether to humble herself by trying to find Orpheus and make her peace with him.

  “You did not mean it, did you?”

  Eurydice jumped and gasped. Orpheus had stepped out of the shadow of the landing as she approached it. She looked up to meet his eyes and sighed.