Hades’ Daughter. Book One of the Troy Game by Sara Douglass

‘A bargain?” said the Crone. “But I want you. You. What could you give me to assuage my grief at leaving you behind?”

‘I think we can come to a most singular arrangement,” Ariadne said, her words jerking out in her agony. “I can make you the best proposition you’ve had in aeons.”

The Crone was silent a long moment, her bright eyes resting unblinking on Ariadne as the woman twisted and moaned once more.

‘I shall want far more than just ‘a singular arrangement,'” the Crone said. “Far more. What can you give me, Ariadne, Mistress of the Labyrinth?”

The midwives had selected their knife now, and one of them, a woman called Meriam, had drawn out a whetstone and was sharpening the blade with long, deliberate strokes.

The frightful sound of metal against stone grated about the chamber, and Ariadne’s eyes glinted.

She spoke, very low and very fast, and the Crone gave a great gasp and stood back. ” You would go that far?” she hissed.

‘Will you not accept my bargain?” Ariadne said.

‘Oh, aye, I accept. But you will destroy yourself, surely, along with—

‘You will have me one day, Crone, but it shall be on my terms, not yours. But, if you want what I offer, then I beg two favors from you.”

The Crone laughed shortly. “And I thought you were to be doing all the giving.”

‘I will need to see Asterion.”

” Asterion? The brother you helped murder? You would dare?”

‘Aye. I dare. Tell me, is he in Hades’ realm?”

‘Nay. Hades would not have him. You know this.” The Crone paused, her eyes on the midwives who were now slowly rising, their voices murmuring bitterly about the effort this Ariadne put them to. “Very well,” said the Crone. “I agree. I can send Asterion to you. And the second favor?”

‘Push this child from my body that I may live long enough to play my part in this our arrangement.”

‘As you wish, Ariadne. But do not fail in your part of our agreement. I would be most disappointed should you—

‘I will not fail. Now, push this child from me… ah!”

The midwives stepped close to the straining woman on the birthing mat, Meriam at their fore, a large knife in her hand.

But as Meriam leaned down to push Ariadne to her back, the better to expose her huge belly to the knife, Ariadne screamed, and there was a rush of bloodstained fluid between her legs, and then the baby, hitherto unshiftable, slithered free.

Meriam stopped dead, her mouth hanging open.

Ariadne had sunk to her haunches, and now she looked up from her daughter kicking feebly between her legs to the gaggle of midwives.

‘You may be sure that I will repay you well for your aid,” she said.

ARIADNE RESTED DURING THAT DAY, AND WHEN THE sun settled below the horizon, she dismissed the woman who sat with her, saying that she wished to be alone during the night with her daughter.

Once the woman had gone, Ariadne put her daughter to her breast and fed her, and then rocked her

gently and sung to her softly, so that she would sleep through the coming hours.

As soon as the infant slept soundly, Ariadne placed her in a small oval wicker basket, covered her well with blankets, then placed the basket in a dark corner of the room.

She did not want Asterion to notice the child and perhaps to maim or murder her in his ill humor.

Once her daughter was attended to, Ariadne washed herself carefully, wincing at the deep hurt that still assailed her body, then reached into the chest of her clothes that Theseus had caused to be tossed onto the beach. She drew forth a deep red flounced skirt that she bound as tightly as she could about her still-thickened and soft belly, then slipped her arms into a golden jacket that she tied loosely about her waist, leaving it unbuttoned so that her full breasts remained exposed.

Having attended her body, Ariadne now carefully painted her face. She powdered her face to a smooth, rich cream mask, then lined her eyes with black and her mouth with a vivid red that matched her skirt. When that was done, Ariadne dressed her hair. For the finest effect she needed a maid to do it for her, but there was no one to help, and so she did the best she could, finally managing to bind and braid her glossy black tresses into an elaborate design that cascaded from the crown of her head to the nape of her neck.

She was still studying her face and hair in her handheld mirror when she felt the shift in the air behind her.

Ariadne put down the mirror with deliberate slowness, calmly rose from her stool, and turned to face her murdered half brother Asterion.

For an instant she thought him more shadow than substance, but then he took a single step forward, and she saw that his flesh was solid and real… as was his anger.

‘You betrayed me,” he said in his thick, guttural, familiar voice. “See.” He waved a hand down his body. “See what your lover did to me.”

She looked, for she owed him this at least.

Theseus’ sword had cut into Asterion’s body in eight or nine places: across his thickly muscled black throat, his shoulder, his chest, both his flanks, laying open his belly. The wounds were now bloodless lips of flesh, opening and closing as Asterion’s chest rose and fell in breath (and why did he need to breathe at all , thought Ariadne, now that he is dead?) , revealing a rope of bowel here, a lung there, the yellowed cord of a tendon elsewhere.

Ariadne swallowed, then very slowly lifted her eyes back to Asterion’s magnificent head.

It was undamaged, and for that she was profoundly grateful. The beautiful liquid black eyes still regarded her clearly and steadily from the bold countenance of the bull, and his graceful horns still curved unbroken about his broad brow.

Her eyes softened, and at that he snarled, deliberately vicious, spraying her beautiful face with thick spittle.

‘You betrayed me!”

She had not flinched. “Aye, I did. I did it for Theseus, for I thought he loved me. I was wrong.

Deluded with love, I betrayed you, and for that I am most sorry.”

He snorted in laughter, and she turned aside her head very slightly.” ‘Most sorry’?” He stepped forward, close enough to run prying fingers over her breasts and her belly. She stiffened at his touch, but did not move away. “You have given birth to his child.”

Her eyes flew back to his. “You shall not harm her!”

‘Why not?”

‘Do not harm her, Asterion. I beg this of you.”

He merely wrinkled his black brow in that peculiar manner of his that demonstrated mild curiosity.

“And why not? Why not? Why should her death not be my vengeance for what you did to me?”

‘I will give you vengeance enough, Asterion. For you and for me.”

He slid his hand in the waistband of her skirt, jerking her toward him, smiling at the wince on her face.

“What nonsense. I am capable enough of taking my vengeance here and now.”

Their heads were very close now, her aristocratic beauty almost completely overshadowed by his dark and powerful countenance.

‘I want you—” she began.

He smiled, horribly, and his hand drew her yet closer.

‘—to teach me your darkcraft.”

Surprised, his grip loosened a little.

‘You are the only one who has ever learned to manipulate the power in the dark heart of the labyrinth.

Now I want you to teach me that darkcraft. I will use it to destroy Theseus; I will use it to destroy his entire world. Every place that Theseus lays foot, everything he touches, every part of his world, everything will fall to decay, and death. And yet even that is not all. I will combine your darkcraft with my powers as Mistress of the Labyrinth, Asterion, to free you completely.” She paused, using her brief silence for emphasis. “I will combine our powers together, beloved brother, to tear apart the Game once and for all. Never again will it ensnare you. That will be my recompense to you for my stupidity in betraying you to Theseus and my payment to you for giving me the power to tear apart Theseus and all he stands for.”

He held her eyes steady, looking for deception. “You would destroy the Game? Free me completely so that I may be reborn into life as I will?”

‘Yes! This is something that only I can do, you know that… but you must also know I need the use of your darkcraft to do it. Teach it to me, I beg you.”

‘If you lie—”

‘I do not!”

‘If you do not destroy the Game—”