Nobody's Prize by Esther Friesner

Author:Esther Friesner
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780375849855
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2008-04-22T04:00:00+00:00

9

THE GIFT OF HECATE

I had barely dozed off when Medea shook me awake much too early the next morning. Her face was drawn, her eyes feverish. “Can you fetch him now? Now, before my father finds out? I’ll show you where I’ll be waiting, then you can bring him to me.”

I sat up, rubbing my weary eyes. “I don’t know where to look for Jason,” I replied.

She ground her teeth so hard that I could hear it. “Don’t lie to me. You’re wasting my time with your excuses. Come!” She dug her fingers into my wrist and would have yanked me from the bed onto the floor if I hadn’t braced myself.

“Stop that!” I ordered her, pulling my hand away. “What’s the matter with you? One moment I’m your sacred guest, your beloved sister, and the next you’re acting like I’m one of your slaves. I won’t let you treat me like this.” I was too sleepy to worry if my bluntness might send her into a rage.

I was lucky. Instead of storming at me, Medea was immediately sorry, though I knew her heartfelt apology might turn into a fresh spate of false accusations at any moment. I got up and dressed as fast as I could. She’d done everything but grovel, yet I’d caught an icy glimpse of malice in her eyes. The less I thwart this girl, the healthier I’ll stay, I thought. How does she manage to make my heart break and my skin crawl at the same time? O gods, grant me some way to escape her “hospitality”! She took me out of the palace and past humble outbuildings protected by the citadel enclosure. The smell of cookfires was already on the fresh morning air. Slaves and servants trotted busily to and fro as Lord Aetes’ stronghold stirred itself from sleep. None of them seemed to regard it as strange to see their princess roaming the grounds outside the palace. The building she sought looked like a potter’s shed, with the oven for baking the clay pots beside it. There was a scattering of broken crockery in front of the doorsill. Medea stooped and examined it keenly, then stood up and smiled at me as if I understood all her secrets. “No one has been here. We can enter.”

She opened the door and urged me to follow her. I did so, and soon found myself deep in stench-haunted shadows. I groped behind my back and was reassured to feel the door. Just then, a spark flared in the darkness. Medea had kindled a fat wick stuck into a cup of tallow. It burned with more smoke and stink than lamps fed with olive oil, but she didn’t seem to mind.

“You will bring him here,” she said. “Hecate herself will stand witness to all we say to one another. But not yet. First I must worship the goddess who has answered my prayers.”

She gestured with the flame and I saw a waist-high block of stone at the rear of the little hut.

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