Lost in the Labyrinth, Patrice Kindl [read novel full .txt] 📗

myself. And if,” I added meanly, for I was angry with her for giving me a fright, “if you are right and the lion has eaten my brother, he may be too full to think of eating you as well.”

“Oh, my lady!”

“Go!”

She went.

If truth be told, I was not accustomed to dressing myself and it took me some time, fumbling with the fastenings of my clothes. My very haste seemed to render them stiff and uncooperative. Still, after what seemed an eternity, I was attired and ready to help in the search.

Glaucus had been missing for much of the day. He had not been seen since just after the morning meal, and it was now late afternoon. His personal servant admitted that he had given the boy leave to go down to the wharves at the harbor to watch the stir and excitement of the preparations there but had not accompanied him. Instead, Bas, the servant, had curled up in a corner and taken a long nap. He awoke just before the midday meal and, when Glaucus did not appear (a most unusual circumstance, for Glaucus was fond of food), began cautiously to inquire about him around the harbor. No one could be found who had seen him, and the servant’s fears grew, until at length he was forced to admit that the child was lost and to ask for help in finding him.

The Labyrinth is not a good place in which to lose something. It was built with the intention to confuse and confound. It is as much a temple as it is a palace, for it is the dwelling of the Goddess, the Lady of the Double Ax. A hundred winding passageways leading to a thousand and half a thousand rooms ensure that no one who has entered may leave without assistance.

Only a few months before, the feebleminded son of a merchant in Knossos Town had crept into the palace. I do not myself believe that he meant any harm, but who can say? He eluded the vigilance of the guards and penetrated the private portion of the palace for some reason best known to himself Being lost in the Labyrinth is bewildering for those of normal intelligence—what must it have been like for such a one as he?

I pity him, thinking of his fear mounting as he trod endless featureless corridors that turned and turned upon themselves and finally led to a dead end. I imagine him running down a flight of stairs, believing that at last he was about to break free of the maze, only to be faced with a blank wall and no way out save by the route he had come.

Eventually he happened upon the Bull Pen, where my brother lives. In the extremity of his terror, the madman attacked my brother with a knife. The Athenians did nothing, of course, except to run like so many squawking chickens. When the soldiers came, Asterius was snorting with rage, trampling about the enclosure with blood and foam speckling his arms and chest. The poor fool lay dead, his neck broken.

I could not prevent myself from thinking of this now. What if—what if Glaucus had gone to see our brother Asterius? What if Glaucus had teased Asterius, pulled on his tail, tormented him in some way? Surely Asterius would not—

My heart beating uncomfortably in my chest, I nearly ran to the Bull Pen. It could not have happened, it ought not to have happened, with those servants present. Yet no one knew better than I that servants are not always to be relied upon. I could not believe that all thirteen of the Athenians would stand by while their charge tore a seven-year-old child of royal blood to pieces, but still my feet paced faster and faster as I ran deeper and deeper into the maze.

In the Bull Pen, all seemed much the same as on my earlier visit, except that Asterius was asleep amid piles of hay. The servants arose and saluted me.

“He is not here, my lady,” said one immediately. “The little prince is not here. The king, he came and asked and we said, ‘No, no little boy came here.’” If my father himself had come looking for Glaucus, then the situation was indeed grave.

I looked about for signs that they were lying, but saw none. There was no indication of a struggle, no terrible patch of blood, nothingto suggest that anything but eating and drinking and gambling had gone on here. If Asterius had been involved in anything like what I dreaded, I knew that he would not now be sleeping but still rampaging about, bellowing and pawing at the dirt floor.

Asterius awoke and came to me. Disappointed that I had brought him no gifts of food, he felt inside my pockets and shook his heavy head mournfully. It occurred to me that I had not taken him outside lately—he must be bored.

It was growing ever more difficult to allow my brother the freedom of being outside, away from the Labyrinth. My father claimed, especially after the incident with the fool, that he was likely to kill someone. I had no such fears, but I was not sure I still had the ability to restrain him if he took it into his head to bolt.

Never mind. Once this fuss over Glaucus was over, I’d take Asterius out and see to it that he exerted his limbs to some purpose. I would bring his attendants and—here was an idea—I would ask Icarus to accompany us. I stroked my brother briefly and kissed his broad forehead in farewell.

I debated with myself what I should do next. Many of those now searching would themselves be lost in the Labyrinth by nightfall. I could see no purpose in adding a missing princess to the miseries of the day. I had grown up within these walls, yes; I had played here all my life, but even I might lose myself in the maze. Every day, it