‘You kill the dog,’ answered Derae.
‘But if you know the future, and you know that the babe will grow into an evil destroyer who will bring the world to blood and fire?’
‘You let it kill the baby?’
‘Indeed – but what if the destroyer is due to sire another babe who will rebuild the world and bring peace and joy for a thousand years?’
‘You have lost me, Tamis. I don’t know. How can anyone answer such a question?’
‘How indeed?’ whispered the old woman. ‘I cling to my first prayer, when the Source showed me Parmenion. He is a man torn, pulled towards darkness, yearning for the light. When the Dark God conies, he will either serve him or help to destroy him.’
‘Can you destroy a god?’ Derae asked.
‘Not thenspirit. But he will come in the flesh, in the guise of a man. And that is where his weakness will lie.’
Derae took a deep breath. ‘I want to help you, Tamis, I really do. But is there a way I can develop my . . . powers . . . without giving the gift you require?’
‘We do not have the time,’ answered Tamis sadly. ‘It would take perhaps thirty years.’
‘Will there be pain?’
‘Yes,’ admitted Tamis, ‘but it will be short-lived – that I promise you.’
‘Show me Parmenion,’ said Derae. ‘Then I will give you my answer.’
‘That might not be wise.’
‘It is my price.’
‘Very well, child. Take my hand and close your eyes.’
The world lurched, and Derae felt she was falling into a great void. She opened her eyes . . . and screamed. All around her were stars, huge and bright, while far below her the moon floated in a sea of darkness. ‘Do not fear, Derae. I am with you,’ came the voice of Tamis, and Derae calmed herself. Colours blazed around her – and she found herself floating above the night-shrouded city of Thebes, gazing down at the colossal statues of Heracles and Athena. Closer they flew until they came to a house with a small courtyard.
A red-headed man was sitting at a table, but from above came the sounds of a couple making love. Still closer they came, passing through the walls of the bedroom.
‘I missed you,’ Parmenion told the woman beneath him. ‘As if they’d torn my heart from me.’
‘Take me back,’ whispered Derae. ‘Take me home. You may have my gift; you may take my eyes.’
*
Mothac opened the package from Argonas and ran his fingers through the shredded leaves and stalks within. Filling a large goblet with boiling water, he added a handful of the leaves, and a pungent aroma – sweet, almost sickly -filled the kitchen.
Parmenion was awake upstairs, but he had said nothing, nor even turned his head when Mothac looked in on him. Stirring the infusion with a wooden spoon, Mothac strained off the leaves and stalks floating on the surface and climbed the stairs. Parmenion had not left the bed. He was sitting up and staring out through the open window.
Mothac moved to the bedside. ‘Drink this,’ he said softly. Without a word Parmenion accepted the brew and sipped it. ‘Drink it all,’ Mothac ordered, and the Spartan silently obeyed.
Mothac took the empty goblet, placing it on the floor beside the bed. ‘How is the pain?’ he asked, taking Parmenion’s hand.
‘It is receding,’ answered the Spartan, his voice distant.
‘You have been asleep for five days. You missed the celebrations -they were dancing on the agora. You should have seen them.’
Parmenion’s eyes closed and his voice was a whisper. ‘She came to me, Mothac. From beyond death she came to me. She saved me on the Hill of Sorrow.’
‘Who came to you?’
‘Derae. She was still young and beautiful.’ Tears welled in Parmenion’s eyes. ‘She freed me, she took away the pain.’
Mothac bit back the truth as the words surged up in his throat. ‘Good,’ he said at last. ‘That is good. Now it is time for you to leave that bed and get some air into your lungs. Here, let me help you.’ Taking Parmenion’s arm, he gently pulled his master to his feet.