Marketplace

The sun was shining brightly as Phaistos made his way through the crowded marketplace to a secluded alley. The afternoon heat made his tunic cling to his skin, the sticky fabric becoming more and more uncomfortable. But here, the shade of the adjacent buildings provided a shadowed area for Phaistos to continue his work. Sweat beaded his brow as he drew his blood covered knife from its sheath. If only he hadn't been interrupted, this entire process could have been much less complicated. The blood of his latest quarry was now all over the inside of the sheath and had begun to dry on the blade. If he didn't clean them soon he'd be in the market for a new sheath and knife; and evidence would be available to those who would work against him. The other wet workers would certainly berate him for allowing a witness to escape. But in Phaistos's eyes his blade was meant solely for the quarry, no innocent blood would sully his soul.

Phaistos's latest mark had been a corrupt merchant. The man would convince other merchants to invest in the trade of newly discovered spices. He would than present them with forged scrolls and documents from Egypt or Mesopotamia, assuring them that the investment was sound. But once the money had been collected the new spice would be destroyed by an accident like a fire, drought, or pirates. The merchants were told that the investment had been lost, yet this man's wealth would continue to increase. In Phaistos's eyes this man was no better than a common pickpocket and deserved no mercy. Unfortunately, when Phaistos had made the kill he was discovered by a young woman, the merchant's mistress most likely. He'd had no time to clean his blade and was forced to exit out a window.

It was useless, the sheath would be impossible to clean. Thankfully, he was still able to clean the knife. So the hunter tucked the wicked blade into his belt and stashed the sheath into a crack in one of the buildings. He made a note to come back and properly dispose of it when there would be less witnesses. He did his best to reenter the crowd as inconspicuously as possible then started towards one of the stores a few yards away. This last job was the only one that had fit his standards in the past few weeks. He'd need to fall back on traditional hunting if he were to earn the money necessary to commission a new sheath. Phaistos ducked his head and entered the store.

"She's crazy, I swear, just please give me the cat? You don't understand the hell I'll go through if I don't get it for her..."
"But, it's my last one, and if I'm to keep a clean shop, I need a cat to clean out the rats!"
"Please sir, the Lady has been asking for that cat for ages, and may I say it would be best to give it to her now."
"Are you threatening me?"

"Galno! How dare you!" Rang a vibrant voice which might be described as "meaty" in its texture and tone. "I send you to get a cat and I find you shaking down this poor gentleman?" The voice now had a sort of face, tucking up from behind a pile of boxes carrying many vials of vinegar, was what looked like some swirling fireball, engulfing a few flailing twigs. A toothless grin mouthing out the words from behind a vivid orange veil.

The twigs were "The Lady's" arms, the fireball was her swirling robes. As she stood up her entire person seemed to click and chime and glint with her various baubles.

"Sir, sir. Take this money, go buy yourself some soft cheese from young Amos across the way, and some poison from the Apothecary just up the street, you have to understand that your cat is going to become incredibly ill in a few days, as someone has planted those rats, and it is most surely an attempt on your life. You have to poison the cheese and leave it out, and make sure to do this for a few months to come."

The merchant stood rather awestruck, but simply nodded absentmindedly. Had he been hypnotized?

Annipe quickly scooped up the beautiful brown cat, and walked away quite contentedly.

The merchant "Was any of that true?"
Her servant "Not in the slightest, I'd also like to pick up some flat bread?"
"R-right this way" said the man, staring off into the bright orange fireball that was dancing away from him, faint, frantic "Meows" hanging in the air behind her.

Annipe had come out for her weekly day about the Forum. Parents hide your children, the half-breed is grinning today.

The Singing Crone, the Half-Breed, the Egyptian Sorceress, made no notice of the man following her. She moved with her rabbit like bounce from stall to stall, buying a variety of apparently useless and unrelated items.

A female servant adorned with the Orange stripe of the Lady's house brought forth a wicker basket, into which the cat was thrown. The servant promptly carted it away.

Turning flamboyantly, such a way in that it seemed everything about her ballooned and deflated all at once, she extended one long body, multi-jointed finger at the man following her.

"I'm not a Lady to be spoken of by Ladies and you seem not more Lady than cruelest Lady be. If as Lady you'll condemn me sir then Lady's Lady I shall not be, but Man's Lady and in other words, a common whore, give me that drink then."

Annipe was famed for her very rhythmic voice and almost chanting tempo to her words, as well as rarely making any sense, she snatched the wine out of his hands and threw up her thin orange face veil, pressing the jug to her gummy smile she made plenty of effort to tell everyone around she was drinking and enjoying it.

The veil was tented over the jug and her bent, bony arms. Finishing, she absentmindedly licked her lips and shoved the wine back into Asterion's hands.

She let out a long, refreshed "Ahhhhh"

"Well boy, run along, or else the Lady thinks to make a Lady out of you." She turned and continued her bouncing, flailing march across the marketplace.

Asterion was a bit flummoxed by the crone's manner of speech. He had a tenuous grasp of language, at best, and the way she skipped words off her tongue like pebbles of the water was both highly interesting, something language had never been before, and far beyond his limited scope of intelligence. Like a lost puppy, he continued following the wizened old woman, even as she wave him away. Still tongue tied he strode silently beside her, and a half pace behind, trying to conjure up the words to express what she represented to him. She was the first person since he had been stolen away from the maze, his guardian, the beast who had raised him, to spark any sort of interest in him. She was the first person to seem to move through the world the way he did, as if connected to the ever changing melodies of the world, as if she could hear, and feel them too.

Unable to express such convoluted thoughts and emotions in human speech, he gave up, breaking his silence by speaking in the only manner he truly knew. He stopped moving, threw his head back, and bellowed. The sound was inhuman. A heartfelt cry that was, in and of itself, a song, expressing his spirit, the way he saw life, what he felt, the man he was, released in one, long, and deeply mournful ululation. If the world could be described by the Symphony, than this was Asterion's Song, and for those with the ear carried his story in its quavering notes clearly, and plainly, displayed to the world for all to hear. But to beasts actions speak far louder than any words ever could, and so Asterion drew his sword, and took it by the blade, holding it hilt first out towards the crone as she walked away. Hoping that perhaps he had found a kindred spirit, one who would understand how lost, and lonely he felt in this refined and ordered world, how out of touch with himself and nature this society was forcing him to become. And how much he resented the change, how much he wished to be the simple boy in the maze again. Hoping that perhaps someone else was like him, or could show him a better way.

The hustle of the marketplace, bouncing through crowds, shooing off children, reaching out for a fresh Persian Apple, oh now a bushel, oh now a cart's worth, lord did she love a Persian Apple.

It all sort of stopped, something inhuman, beautifully so, had swallowed up all the false dribble that had become so commonplace in the world of men.

Turning slowly, with large steps though she were stepping over great trenches, Annipe turned, her veiled eyes undoubtedly staring at Asterion, her toothless mouth gaping behind the veil. She let out a rough kind of caw, and very slowly reached to the two crystals hung around her neck.

She continued her slow approach, her legs wide apart and bowed as though she were trying to make her spindly form seem broader in its billowing robes.

Her eyes fixed on Asterion so intently the gray irises seemed somehow visible through the orange veil, she struck the long cylindrical crystal against the longer, slightly wider cone shaped one. To those around there was little more than a faint "ping"

But to those more in sync with the Symphony, there was a certain violent upheaval, like all the sounds around suddenly washed away. People mouthed words but not even a faint hum resounded, the street was unearthly quiet, the whole world suddenly seemed gloriously silent.

And a ways off, in the direction of the garden district, in the direction of the shoreline, and in the direction of the Labyrinth, there was an indescribable music, a strange distant thing, not so much music as merely harmonious sound, without any true order or pattern.

Then came the crashing wave.

All at once the roaring returned, crashed down on the scene like it had been dammed and freshly let loose. People stomping about, carts grinding against the stone, the heat of the sky even seemed to have a great roaring sound.

And the old woman was running at full, gangly speed down the nearest Alley, her old form foolishly sprinting grabbing at whatever was closest for balance, and turning effortlessly, while certainly not in her prime, Annipe ran much faster than a woman of her age should.

Asterion watched, curious, as Annipe stopped, and turned, it felt as if her eyes were staring straight into him, seeing him, not the fabled Son of the Maze the rest of Kethadria saw when they looked at him. When the old woman struck her crystal, all the sound in the world stopped, and through the silence he heard music. Tears streamed suddenly, and uncontrollably down his face, at the sound of the song winding its way from the depths of the Labyrinth, through the silence, to him. His knees went weak, crumbled, and he fell, landing on his knees, sword in the street beside him, looking up at the sky, as the sound of the world crashed back in around him, like a shutting pair of scissors, severing the lone tenuous thread coming from the maze to his mind. He hardly noticed as the old woman sped off. Down on his knees he opened his mouth and let loose the worldess bellow once, praying that somehow it would make its way deep into the maze, an answering song to the source of the beauty he had heard after so, so very long alone.

When he came back to himself, he was on his knees in the middle of the street. People were staring, and whispering, a wide ring had formed around him, as others went about their business, and tried to avoid the mad Son of the Maze. A voice called from him, coming closer as it did so.

"Asterion? That you boy?" A guard called to him from down the street as he, and his three compatriots came towards him, called by the people who had noticed the ruckous. In a second he was on his feet again, sword in hand, and sprinting down the street. With a bound, and leap, he was back on the roof tops, fleeing from the guards. The four on the ground weren't the only ones after him either, the court was getting fed up with his wildness, and this strange display was unlikely to escape their notice. The guards on the street were just on patrol, alerted by the crowd, but the five in light weight armor, carrying bows as well as swords, were likely sent by the council to bring him back to the Temple, a place he had avoided with all his might since he had been found by the Kethadrians at the age of 12. Sleeping in the woods, roaming the wilds, that was the life he chose to lead. Unable to return to the maze, he hid in the wilds, staying away from the court, the temple, society, as much as possible. Floating on the fringes, a loner.

Now, for once, he wished that he was not, that he had some companion to help him evade these guards, a safe place he could hide. For a split second he had thought the crone might be such a kindred spirit, but she had fled him as well. None of these weak human's could look at him and not tremble it seemed. Walking the waking world alone is my destiny, he thought to himself as he fled the following men. What's the point in trying anymore, he silently cursed, I stand somewhere between man and beast, both wary of me, neither accepting. No home save the maze exists for my kind.

Annipe ran with a faint cackle, skipping every third step. She seemed to time everything, slipping in between alleyways and people so fluidly and quickly that her robes snaked behind her, never touching anything around, in a way she was moving ghost-like, incredibly visible, but somehow not touching anything, perhaps not even the ground.

She had turned down her favorite tall alleyway, always very empty for no windows opened to it, no clothes nor souls in that place. She had every intention of running back to the Garden District, clapping her hands as she ran towards the white walled complexes, her gates, with a garland of pearls hung above, opening up to her wonderful home.

But she smelled smoke in the air, faintly, some ways off. Worst of all she heard the human scream. Animals rarely scream, what humans might call fear to animals is but a eulogy, a sweet lament, only humans truly feared death, and she couldn't help but stop and turn.

"Phayara...." She said to herself, "Udipti...." she almost chanted, turning in the direction of the palace she squinted her eyes behind her heavy veil. The Temple stood above the Labyrinth, perhaps the devilish thing might finally be destroyed.

She would not help the people of Kethadria today, indeed, it would be so much sweeter to her to see the labyrinth collapse, the palace falling in from the destroyed foundations, the beast let loose on the people.

It had often been Annipe's favorite dream, and now there was a chance it might happen. She did not believe in fate, but she would not tamper here.

She continued down the alleyway, towards the climbing staircase over the jutting west cliff, atop which stood the crested hill of the Garden District.

Asterion stopped in place, as a whiff of smoke tingled past his nostrils. The guards chasing him caught up swiftly, the lead one approaching him slowly, a hand out, and calling to him. "Young master, please, the display in the market place... I haven't heard you howl like that in years, I know you never have accepted the Kethadrian people as family, but I know you well enough to tell when you are in pain."

Asterion turned, his eyes softening for a second. He had never forgiven the Kethadrians for forbidding his return to the Maze, or trusted them when he learned the nature of his existence, sacrificed to the minotaur as an infant. Only living by the minotaur's grace, and Apollo's blessing. Yet the beast had been like a father to Asterion, and he saw no monstrosity in the minotaur. Perhaps, he thought to himself, this connection with the minotaur has prevented me from accepting my own humanity. From excepting friendship from those who are human themselves, at no fault of their own. There had certainly been kind people in his life before. The Temple Guard captain before him, Aetos, had been assigned to him when Asterion was first discovered, lead from the edge of the maze by the Watcher. Aetos had been tasked with keeping him from returning to the maze, protecting the gifted youth, and he knew how much Asterion hated him for his assignment. Yet he had always been kind, knowing when a kind word would help the boy feel a bit better, and knowing when to stay silent and let the boy be. He had helped him learn the language of man as he slowly gained Asterion's trust, and yet despite his kindness, Asterion had never truly accepted him in return.

This revelation was completely out of character for Asterion, not being the kind to search very deep into his mind or emotions. That brief connection to that silence, and the lone song, had shaken something awake deep within Asterion, perhaps his very humanity. Like a song that calms a wild beast, it had put the animal in him to rest briefly, and forced the human parts of him to waken from slumber, rising to the surface for the first time in a long time. A thick trail of smoke reached Asterion's nose once more, the scent of burning wood, carried from far off, near the Temple. Holding a hand up to silence Aetos as he tried to speak again, Asterion cocked his head towards the scent, seeing plumes rising far off, from the Temple itself.

"Aetos! Not now, come, the Temple is in peril." As Asterion dashed off across the rooftops in the direction of the temple, his mind flashed to another Kethadrian who had shown him great compassion, the leader of the Temple, Simin. She was bound to be there, perhaps in danger if the size of the smoke plumes was any indication of the fire. Glancing back, Asterion was satisfied to see Aetos and his guard following behind him, and he made sure to not outstrip them by too much, always remaining in sight. "Who would do this?" He mused softly, "An enemy of the gifted in the Kethadrian court? Or is it merely an accident caused by a fool? In either case, innocent gifted children, and the temple staff are all in danger." Growling under his breath in frustration, Asterion leapt from the last building of the market district to the floor, and ran the remaining distance to the temple, swiftly, on foot, the Temple Guard close behind.

Adriane awoke to a dark and quite room. She looked around and saw various bottles and plants littered across the room. The man had indeed taken her to a healer as he said, and it was definitely not in the palace. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness parts of the room became more clear. There were a few small candles burning and there wasn't even a window, She wasn't even in a very well to do part of town either. Her hand brushed across her leg causing a jolt of pain to curse through her. Slowly she moved various limbs and and flexed muscles, when she got to her leg she was glad to find out that nothing was broken, painful, but nothing to severe. Her bandages were wet from blood so she figured it could only have been an hour or two since the incident.

There was a knock on the door to the room and a young women walked in. The door let in a blinding amount of sunlight lighting up the room. Adriane blinked and rubbed her eyes from the light. As her vision improved she could see the women more clearly, She wasn't young at all, in fact she was quite old but she strutted about as if she was still 20. "Thank you for the bandages maim". The lady didn't respond but instead readied a second coating of bandages and a mixture of herbs. "Fool girl, do not thank me until you are safe. Hmph, You should be dead as is what with all the blood you lost. Damn lucky is what you are." Adriane was speechless at the tongue lashing, she didn't do anything to her. "But I suppose that's all what you gifted are, damn lucky." It was then that Adriane noticed the framed painting hanging on the wall. It was rough, poorly done but it was of a young man wearing a healer's apprentice robes and smiling. She stared at it for a few seconds as the old lady removed the blood stained bandages to replace the new ones and clean the wound. Then it struck her, the man in the portrait must have been one of the sacrificed that never made it out from the labyrinth. Her very presence here must be more painful to this old women then her pain could ever be. "I'm sorry" she tried to whisper but the tears just choked her up. The old lady turned to her "You may go now, come back here in 3 days to replace the bandages." She then walked out leaving Adriane to herself.

"You look terrible." Alcaeus quickly wished he hadn't given away his clothes to Euterpe, although even he had to admit that his rags could barely pass as clothing. And with the stains of blood it wouldn't have been the most inconspicuous thing to wear. He had been sitting in her small garden for a couple of hours now wearing only a loincloth. Luckily the sun still provided some heat and a wall of sandstone concealed the garden from possible voyeurs. Alcaeus could tell that she had taken good care of her garden, it was filled with colourful flowers and many exotic plants which he had never before laid eyes on. "Time hasn't been merciful on all of us, unlike you dear Euterpe." He mockingly responded. He knew she was very touchy about her appearance. "Hmph, always been a charmer. Well, I got rid of your clothes and got you some new ones." Alcaeus diverted his eyes from the garden and noticed that she had a simple woolen tunic and pants wrapped around her arm. "It isn't much but it should be enough for you." He politely bowed his head and tried on his new garment. "A perfect fit!" She smiled "They used to belong to my husband, but I guess they'll do more good with you." Alcaeus bowed his head again, she knew he couldn't repay him in coin, and he already owed her much for helping out his little passenger. "How is she doing?" He asked after a short silence in which Euterpe seemed to be pondering about a different time. "Oh, she's a tough one I'll tell you that. A child her age should be dead after losing that amount of blood. I guess that's one of the benefits of being a Gifted."

Alcaeus his heart stopped for a moment. He had heard of the Gifted before, although he had never seen one in the flesh. He didn't know much about them except that they live a secluded life and were a gift from the Gods themselves. Although he had never dared to imagine that a small child could manage to survive the labyrinth. Maybe his daughter also got out? Maybe this time he would be able to get some answers to the questions that have been haunting him ever since he awoke with a curse made of metal replacing his right arm. "Can I go see her now?" "Sure, just don't overdo it, Gifted or no, she still needs her rest." Alcaeus quickly thanked her and approached the hallway and stopped in his tracks when he heard several loud knocks on the door. "In the name of the King, open this door!" A loud voice commanded. Alcaeus froze, the guard had found them. He realised he was in big trouble, maybe they believed he had kidnapped the Gifted from the temple and he would probably be put to death for treason. Just when he was so close to finding the answers he so desperately needed. The soldiers had begun chopping the door down with their axes, there was no more time to escape with the girl. Despair started to creep into Alcaeus' mind as flashes of his past flew before his eyes. He knew he didn't stand a chance against them, but he couldn't just let them take this girl away from him. Just when the guards had carved a hole through the door, Alcaeus stormed the door and greeted the guards with his right arm. The blow was hard enough to smash the nose and pulverise the teeth of an unlucky guard. Drops of blood fell from his fist as he withdrew it back. He could hear the incomprehensible moans and cries of the guard outside. Even though he had caught them off their guard, his attack wasn't enough to stop them. They quickly tore down the door and soon the room was filled with well equipped guards. Alcaeus was quickly surrounded and when he tried to attack his foes he suddenly felt a sudden pain to the back of his head. His vision started to blur and he began to lose his balance when all went dark. "I'm sorry Anthousa..." He muttered before he fell face down on the floor.

The world was spinning. Alcaeus hardly noticed that the guards were dragging him along the road and couldn't feel how the cobblestones bruised his legs. The only thing he could feel was a pulsing headache dominating every corner of his mind. There were a few words that were able to come to his attention however. "Tough bastard, didn't expect this much trouble... Maybe he can still be of some use for us." They hadn't noticed that Alcaeus regained his conciousness, although in his current state he wouldn't be able to escape, let alone put up a fight. It didn't take long before they stopped and dropped Alcaeus on the floor as if he were an inanimate object. One of the guards kicked him as a goodbye and he was left alone in one of the many alleys of the city. The headache was starting to become more bearable, although it was still hard for Alcaeus to think coherently. Why was he left here, why didn't they take him to jail? His mind quickly worried about the others, hopefully Euterpe and the girl were left unharmed.

He couldn't tell how long he had been laying on the floor when suddenly he could feel the touch of small hands covering his face. Even though the hands had a cold touch, for a split second he was able to forget about the pain. Alcaeus slowly opened his eyes, and even though the world was still spinning around him, he could identify a small form standing in front of him and two golden eyes staring at him. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He tried to comfort her, but he could only murmur a few words. A sense of accomplishment overwhelmed him, she had escaped, all his pain and struggling had not been in vain.

His new found joy quickly disappeared when he heard the armoured plates of the guards surrounding them. Even though it was still hard to make out his surroundings, he could spot four archers on the rooftops and three guards closing in on the only entrance and exit of the alley. It had all been a trap, they hadn't left him behind to die, they used him as bait. "Dammit! Why did you come back for me?" Although he wanted to shout, he could only mutter these words without much strength. Two of the guards quickly grabbed the girl by the arms. "We got her captain!" The third figure came closer and looked down on them. "Tsh, what a mess. I think it's best if we take these two to the High Priestess. She'll know what to with em."