Corineus made a strangled sound, but Cornelia swallowed, and continued, taking care not to look at him. “The man rushed to Blangan, and grabbed her. He snarled, and then… then… oh, Hera, then he began to eat her! I could not stay, I was terrified he would murder me as well, and I ran back to the house and crawled into bed. I did not speak of it afterward, for the terror continued. I thought if I spoke, then he would come for me, and bite into my breast, and tear me apart as well.”
There was a long silence. Corineus put his hands over his face, and his entire body shuddered.
Hicetaon laid a gentle hand on the man’s shoulders, then wrapped him in a tight embrace.
‘He stank of musk?” said Brutus softly, his gaze still unrelenting on Cornelia. “How close was he if you could smell his stink? Why should I believe this?”
Then… “Was Coel there?”
‘No!” she said, perhaps too quickly, for Brutus’ eyes narrowed suspiciously.
‘No!” she said, more forcefully, meeting his eyes, and this time Brutus accepted it.
O ‘How can I ever trust you again,” he said, “when you kept this from me? I thought we had agreed to build a marriage, you and I. Then… this . What else will you do to me, Cornelia? What other dagger can I expect in my back?”
She was weeping now. “None, I swear, Brutus! I am sorry, I was scared.”
‘What have I done to deserve a wife such as you?” he said softly, and turned his back on her.
As he walked away from Cornelia, Hicetaon rose from Corineus’ side. “It is ‘yes’?” he said quietly to Brutus. “We can stay?”
Despite his anger and frustration with Cornelia, Brutus managed a small smile. “Aye, my friend.
And… and I am to rebuild the Troy Game.”
” The Troy Game? But how can that be? To rebuild the Game, surely, you would need… need—”
‘Stop rattling on so, Hicetaon. Yes, to build the Game I need the Mistress of the Labyrinth. And I have her, my friend. I have her. The MagaLlan is the Mistress of the Labyrinth.”
FiveOEL STRAIGHTENED UP FROM HIS POSITION crouched against the point where the thatched roof met the outer walls, his expression thoughtful.
The “Game”? This was the Trojan magic Genvissa had brought to Llangar-lia? And Genvissa was this
“Mistress of the Labyrinth”?
This he must tell Loth, and soon.
But… Cornelia. Coel couldn’t believe that she’d kept so much silent. She’d protected him, she’d protected Ecub, she’d protected Mag in that she had not told Brutus of the Dance or of some of the mysteries she had been privy to.
,’ do not deserve such a wife as you , Brutus had said, and Coel agreed wholeheartedly with him.
Brutus most certainly did not deserve a wife such as Cornelia.
All Coel’s curiosity regarding Cornelia resurfaced a hundredfold. Yes, she’d told Brutus about Loth, but that was to be expected. Genvissa had placed Cornelia at the scene, and Cornelia had to tell some of the truth or risk further discovery.
Loth had to hear all of this. Now.
Besides, Coel was desperate to tell Loth that he believed Siangan innocent of the original darkcraft, and to learn what, if anything, had happened between Genvissa and Loth.
Coel looked about. Bladud was lazing about in the midmorning sun at the door of a house some distance away. If anything else interesting was going to happen inside this house, then Bladud could just as easily spy as Coel.
Coel jogged toward him, whistling softly to catch Bladud’s attention as he drew close.
‘I have a task for you,” he said as Bladud rose.
* * *
G
O ONCE AGAIN ASTRIDE HIS STOCKY, SHAGGY HORSE, Coel rode eastward through Llanbank until he reached the outer market area and livestock pens of the town. Here the main road from the southeast coast joined the north-south road, and here, three times a year, the major trading and market fairs of Llangarlia were held. Livestock traded hands, shepherds won themselves work for the next year, tin and copper from the mines in the far west were traded for gold and silver and fabric from the foreign merchants who had sailed up the Llan from the coast, eager for the metals to take back to their homelands.
Coel turned his horse along the northern road that twisted through the mudflats and tidal marshes of the Llan as it flowed east toward the coast. There was no place to ford the river here, the water was too deep, but a sturdy ferry operated to transport the traffic to the northern road where it continued at the far bank.
He was in luck, the ferry was waiting on the southern bank, the ferryman looking pleased to see someone to distract him from the boredom of his morning.
‘Few people on the road today?” Coel said as he led his horse into the flat-bottomed boat.
The ferryman nodded toward the deep bank of fog on the northern shoreline of the Llan. “It makes people think twice,” he said, “even though the road skirts the dangerous places.”
‘Well, that’s as it should be,” Coel said, and the ferryman nodded, now too busy with his oars (and with shouting at the two other oarsmen to put their backs into it) to answer.
Besides, he knew Coel, and he knew Coel had no reason to be afraid of the mist.
ON THE FAR SIDE, COEL THANKED THE FERRYMAN AND his assistants, saying that he would sacrifice metal on their behalf.
Pleased, the ferryman bobbed his head, and grinned contentedly. “Will you be wanting transport back to the southern shore?” he asked.
Coel nodded. “Wait for me. I should not be long.”
FROM THE FERRY, COEL RODE NORTHWARD FOR A TIME along the road. It led through the eastern sector of the Veiled Hills—most of the holy mounds rose to the northwest, but two of the most sacred mounds were directly to his east—but was safe enough for the ordinary traveler so long as he or she did not leave the road.
But Coel was not especially ordinary, and he knew Loth would give him protection, so when he’d ridden only some four or five hundred paces he turned his horse off the road toward the northeast where, a short ride away, lay the edge of the great sacred forest.
Where ran Loth.
Normally Coel would find Loth waiting for him among the outer trees of the forest, but today Loth met him halfway across the grassland, emerging out of the mist a few paces ahead of Coel’s horse, making the beast snort in star-tlement.
Loth smiled gently as he walked up and placed a hand on the horse’s forehead; it quieted instantly.
Then Loth raised his eyes, still and hard, to Coel. “There is more doing here than we ever realized.”
Coel slid from his horse. “I know,” he said. “Will you speak first, or shall I?”
‘I,” said Loth. He closed his eyes briefly, and drew in a deep breath, humiliated to have to confess this. “I was used. Used by Genvissa. She tempted me with power and lust, then sent me to murder Blangan in order to finally destroy Og.”
‘I thought as much,” Coel said softly. He could hardly bear Loth’s pain, and moved close enough to him that he could rest his hand on Loth’s shoulder.
‘She has me trapped,” Loth continued. “If I try to move against her then she will say ,’ murdered Og in my own maddened quest for power… and maybe that’s the truth, Coel. Maybe it is.”
‘Do not be so harsh on yourself, Loth. Genvissa is not alone in this… she has the help and support and work of the five damned foremothers before her. This has been planned far longer than I think you realize.”
Coel told Loth what he’d surmised—that Blangan had never been the one to wield the darkcraft that had split Og’s power—and what he’d heard—that Genvissa was also what she called the Mistress of the Labyrinth, and that the Trojan magic she’d brought to Llangarlia with Brutus involved something called the Troy Game and the building of a mighty city.
‘What is this ‘Game’?” Loth said. “Of what manner of power does it consist? And what meaning this reference to the labyrinth? By all the gods in every land, Coel, what is going to happen ?”
Coel shrugged his shoulders unhappily. “Perhaps at the Assembly we can—
‘Genvissa controls great power, Coel. What we know is not what the Mothers will see . If Genvissa tells the Mothers that she has a means, even through a strange magic, to counter the downfall of Og and ensure that their daughters IG will not die in childbirth again, then they will do whatever she says, even if it means they must lie down with dogs.”
‘And your father…”