Shadows on the Aegean (42 page)

“I was there when Posidios began his journey,” he said. “This new man, whether clan blood flows in his veins or not, is well
skilled. Imhotep was discerning—”

“He was mad!” Phoebus shouted.

Nekros glared at the Rising Golden. “Imhotep could measure a man’s worth in less time than it takes to pick up a nugget of
copper.” He held up his hand at the rise of argument. “Therefore, before we break sacred vows, I propose we let this Egyptian
Cheftu prove himself.”

Everyone stiffened.

“Test him in the pyramid.”

The Council was silent. Chloe knew nothing about the pyramid testing and no one else offered an explanation.
Sibylla? Hello?

“It is how Phoebus will prove himself in a few moons,” Nekros said. “It is how Spiralmaster proved himself summers ago. It
is fitting that since Cheftu is an unknown, we should try him. The Rising Golden is wise in this. However, Cheftu should be
allowed to defend himself in action.”

Dion rose. “I agree with Nekros.”

“If you favor the chieftain of the Clan of the Stone’s view, raise your staff,”
Hreesos
said.

Six were raised, and Chloe scrambled to raise hers. She hoped it was the right thing to do.

“A feast is already under way to welcome the Spiralmaster,” Zelos said. “His examination shall begin at dawn the day after.”

“Better not to test with fumes of the grape about one’s head,”Talos commented. The group laughed, except for Phoebus, and
moved on to debate something else.

Cheftu, oh my love, I cannot wait to see you!

Chloe slipped on the fitted jacket, touching the pendant of her clan, wondering if this Egyptian Cheftu was
her
Egyptian Cheftu. Hope pounded through her veins, and she spoke to herself, trying to quiet her anticipation. For all she
knew, Cheftu was as common a name in Egypt as John or David was in the States. He could be some old man with rheumy eyes and
a wart on his nose!

Considering what she had heard, though, she was certain Cheftu was hers.

Because if he were her Cheftu—would he be surprised to have her back? Shocked? Happy? Don’t be silly, she thought. He loved
you, he loves you. It will be paradise! Chloe shook her head, clearing it, and began applying kohl to her eyes.

She was shaking too much and had to wipe it off and try again.
Cheftu was here
. Chloe rubbed ocher on her lips. The flounced skirt, quilted apron, and open bodice made her look so foreign, she didn’t
recognize herself. Even though she wore Sibylla’s skin, her body moved beneath it. Light-colored eyes were not as rare here
as in Egypt, so there were more green-eyed women. Would Cheftu recognize her? She would be introduced as Sibylla, but would
he see her as Chloe?

A woman was announced; Chloe turned and had a hard time keeping her mouth shut. With chestnut hair and fair skin, she was
striking. Chloe had always hated her own parchment white skin, but on this woman it really was the color of milk, and glowed
like alabaster. Her most stunning feature were her violet eyes; they had the same faraway-in-mystical-lands look that Boticelli’s
women had.

Sibylla peeked around the door of her mind, took one look at the woman, and said,
Vena
. Okh! and slammed the door.

Apparently the two women were not friends. So why was she here?

“How was your cavern this Snake’s Season, Sibylla?” Vena said.

“It was … fine,” Chloe said lamely. Sibylla’s mental door was barricaded shut, so she assumed it really was fine. Vena sauntered
into the room, running her hands over everything. She’s like a cat marking my stuff, Chloe thought.

“I suppose you know that I left Nestor,” she said.

“My, uh, sorrow,” Chloe said, guessing.

“So I will be competing with you in the race,
eee?”

“Eee
, the race.”

“Aye. The race.” She smiled, a beautiful, dreamy, white-toothed smile. “Phoebus has grown into quite the stag. Have you seen
him? Pity he can’t forget Irmentis.” Vena turned to her. “Are you ready to go dine? The new Spiralmaster is being feted tonight.
Though he’s a foreigner, I understand he is also—”

“A stag?”

“Eee
, Sibylla, have you seen him?” Vena was all but purring.

“Let us go, then,” Chloe said. She was as ready as she was going to be. And she didn’t think she could take much more of Vena.
The woman oozed … something. Sex appeal so noxious that Chloe wanted to scratch her eyes out, then toss them to a cat for
a play toy.

As they walked down the wide steps together, Chloe noted they were good contrasts for each other. In addition to her amazing
eyes and cascading curls, Vena had eyelashes about five inches long and a bustline that a Victoria’s Secret model would covet.

Still, Chloe thought, Sibylla is no slouch. Chloe had seen her own features beneath caramel-colored skin; she had masses of
ebony hair with a hint of red and thankfully! her own green eyes. Though she wasn’t exactly voluptuous, she certainly did
justice to the bare-breasted fashions.

Would Cheftu recognize her?

The sounds of the feast reached them before they arrived. Chloe licked her lips, threw her shoulders back, and prepared to
remeet her husband. Reseduce and remarry him, if necessary.

They joined others, a gaggle of young women, all perfumed and painted, dressed in their finest. Despite herself, the excitement
of actually going to a party pricked Chloe and she smiled. Tonight she would be with Cheftu, even if she had to entice him
under Ileana’s table!

Comments and looks decipherable in any language were thrown their way, and Chloe stuck close to the other women, avoiding
the gaze and grasp of the broad-shouldered, long-haired men. The smell of roasting meat and wine surrounded her. Lost somewhere
in the chaos of thousands was the melodious plink of strings and the calling of the flutes.

As her bodyguard of ladies was absorbed into the mass, Chloe found a wall to stand against, her gaze roaming over the group.
A mosaic of colors and patterns filled her vision. The floors and walls and ceilings were painted gaily, and women and men
in the same bright blue, red, and saffron grouped before them. Men with mohawks, dressed in the codpiece and kilt of Mariners,
grouped before one doorway—
Hreesos’
guards. A huge hearth provided a center for the room, and beside it stood an enormous vat, where a young nymph, up to her
knees in wine, scooped rhytons of the fruit of the vine and gave kisses.

Slowly, avoiding the caresses and once or twice delivering casual slaps, Chloe made her way across this room into the next.
If possible, it was even more crowded. She could barely move and was unpleasantly reminded of college parties. Hands outstretched,
Chloe pushed through into another room. Low tables for three were scattered throughout the room. On the dais she saw the various
thrones of the Clan Olimpi.

“Are you going to sit with the clan?” Vena asked.

A familiar laugh froze her blood, and Chloe turned. It was true, then, he was here.
In this time
. She was so overcome, she forgot to breathe. They could be together again. Her eyes filled with tears as she watched him.

He looked so distinctly Minoan, she wondered for an instant if it really were Cheftu. However, every cell in her body stood
up and gave a marching band salute. Somehow his hair was long, the kilt he wore was tight and bright, and gold glistened on
his chest, upper arms, and ankles. A pendant hung around his throat, and another disk swung from a chain against his thigh.

His legs. Oh Kela!

His eyes were still the color of warm honey, ringed with black. Despite his smiles, he wore a whipped look. He longs for me,
she thought, tears spilling over her lower lashes. It was all Chloe could do not to run to him, wrap her arms, legs, and lips
around him. I’m Sibylla, she reminded herself. Calm. He’ll know me, he must know me!

Cheftu was seated next to Dion. Dion, who would most definitely recognize her as Sibylla. Next she noticed that the most beautiful
women on the island were clustered around the men, touching their knees, legs, shoulders. Chloe felt her blood pressure rise
and fought the urge to strangle all of them, including Cheftu. His words were slurred, and she realized he was drunk.

Cheftu was
drunk?
That was a first.

Vena laid a hand, cool and plumply feminine, on Chloe’s arm. “Come along, cousin, the Spiralmaster awaits.”
She’s not my cousin
, Sibylla hissed. Chloe shook her head and they pushed forward. Compared to the rigidity of Egyptian court protocol, this
was a free-for-all. Dion saw them first, and smiled, beckoning.

“Spiralmaster Cheftu,” he said, touching Cheftu’s shoulder, “I present you with my cousin Vena and clan sister Sibylla. Vena
is a she-dog in heat; beware the teeth beneath her painted lips. Sibylla is an oracle, so she will know what you think of
her.”

Vena glared at Dion, and Cheftu looked at her, mumbling greetings, then looked at Chloe.

Cheftu’s expression froze, and Chloe thought, Yessss! Then he turned away and focused on Vena.

Chloe felt slapped, then realized he probably was concerned about appearances. It would not do for two strangers to start
making love in the middle of the floor; it might draw questions. Of course, she thought, he’s just being wary.

She clenched her jaw as Cheftu drew Vena onto his lap, claiming he could think of places to be bitten that weren’t so bad.
Livid, nearly crying, Chloe let herself be seated by Dion. “What is wrong, Sib?” Dion whispered. “The color is gone from your
face, and I would swear by the horns of Apis that your eyes are green!”

Though she wasn’t looking, Chloe knew, she could
feel
Cheftu nuzzling Vena, his long-fingered hands on Vena’s waist. Trembling with anger and hurt, Chloe accepted a rhyton and
drained it. She was shaken to her very core. Cheftu had recognized her, she was certain of it! Was this—

“Do not weep, Sib,” Dion said, pulling her closer. “Come, eat the
kollyva
funeral dinner with me for your
pateeras
, Posidios.”

Shaking her head wordlessly, Chloe leaned against Dion as they crossed the room.

Leaving Cheftu behind.

H
E WATCHED HER MOVE AWAY
, attached to Dion as though he were a boat and she were a barnacle. Even now, even in the heat of this room, he remembered
her body, the way it held him. Vena squirmed on his lap, and Cheftu wished desperately for more wine.

She was so beautiful … so … familiar.

It’s the green eyes and black hair, he told himself. You are searching for Chloe. She’s not here! Move on. I do not want to,
he thought. God forgive me, but I would bury my body in Sibylla just to feel close to Chloe.

How perverse he had become.

Vena left to mingle with other long-haired, painted eye Aztlantu, and Cheftu watched the people walk by. They greeted him,
introduced themselves, but he found himself looking past them for Sibylla. The oracle.

I asked if she was a Coil Dancer. She said if I wanted her to be. By the gods, that must have been an insult! He looked into
the wine of his cup, debating whether or not to finish it. Why not? What did it matter? He’d given her the cut direct; she
wouldn’t speak to him again.

It was either that or pull her from this overcrowded room of peacocks into the first garden he could find and … He drank the
wine.

“So you supplanted my friend Niko,” a slurred voice said. Cheftu turned toward a sharp-faced blond in his cups. A quick glance
at his throat and Cheftu realized this was Phoebus, the Rising Golden.

“It was Imhotep’s decision,” Cheftu said.

“It was your choice to accept,” Phoebus countered.

“Aye. For the reasons Imhotep mentioned I felt I was the right person.

Phoebus kissed the mouth of a red-haired girl, then had his cup refilled, dismissing her with a snap of his fingers. “The
hequetai
illness?”

“Aye.” Cheftu looked at the young man. “I understand that you were present during several of the deaths?”

Phoebus shivered. “A horrible thing. Ofttimes the beginning of one’s spirit journey is a joyful occasion. These were … unsavory,”
he said after a moment. The music and noise ceased, and Phoebus looked toward a set of closed doors. “Ileana and her grand
entrances,” he muttered.