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The entrance of the cave was small, easily missed. The ground was covered in rubble and slate, unlike the rock and walls of the surrounding caves. He nudged the stones with his feet, then bent to inspect the pieces.
It was the same stone, brittle and grey, that had made up the statues in Galenus’ home.
A chill found him, but he brushed it aside.
He stood and ventured into the cave.
The passageway was narrow, forcing him to bend in order to fit. He moved swiftly, trailing a hand along the cave wall. The darkness was pitch, forcing him back out of the cave for light. Holding his torch aloft, he started again.
The tunnel went on. It was silent and cold here, deep inside the hill.
And then it stopped, turning sharply to the left and opening in to a large cavern. At first the cave offered nothing more than the rest. But the flames of his torch revealed a patch of white amidst the rocky floor. He looked closer, making out the crudely hidden remains of a fire pit, several footprints and a white cloth.
Ariston knelt, fingering the embroidered robes his lady had once worn as Athena’s servant. His hands gripped the finely woven linen to his chest, pressing it to him for some sense of reassurance.
But the intricately stitched gilded owls and serpents were discolored, stained copper by the dried blood that hardened its length.
###
Medusa watched the boy sleeping peacefully on her mat.
Little Kore sat on Euryale’s lap, reaching for the shell necklace Medusa had made the night before. The little girl squealed in delight when Euryale tipped her back playfully.
“Silly child,” Euryale laughed.
Medusa shook her head. “She is precious, sister. And well you know it.”
Euryale smiled at the baby. The baby smiled back.
Medusa marveled at the transformation of her sister. A week had come and gone, but Stheno had no luck finding anyone who might care for the children. And they all agreed that brave Spiridion and giggling Kore would not be left behind.
But neither could they go with them to Phorcys’ house.
Stheno entered, looking ragged. She had left in the early morning hours, the quest to find the children a family or home occupying most of her waking hours. She was gasping for air as she pulled her veils from her head.
“We must leave.” Her voice was urgent.
“Now?” Euryale looked at her sister with a disapproving scowl.
“What happened?” Medusa asked.
Stheno shook her head. “Someone is coming.”
“Mayhap father sent someone to look for us?” Euryale asked.
“When has father ever sent someone after us, sister?” Her tone was bitter, a tone Medusa had rarely heard from Stheno. “This is a soldier, from the looks of him.”
Euryale waved a hand, dismissing Stheno. “If it is a soldier, he is more likely chasing the last of the Persians from Greece. He is no concern of ours.”
Medusa asked. “You think he will come here, to the cabin?”
Stheno shrugged, finally regaining her breath.
“Then let us wait.” Euryale returned to the baby, her harsh face softening under Kore’s happy attention. “It seems foolhardy to drag the children from shelter when we must travel at night.”
Medusa glanced at the sleeping boy, then at his small sister. The time together had allowed the boy some rest. While he was thin, he seemed less fragile. He ate heartily at every meal, her sisters made sure of it. How Medusa longed to see him round and laughing… He would be a handsome boy.
But a soldier was coming, a soldier who might be able to help them.
