Atissa sat up straight, the blanket dropping into her lap.
Did I just scream? Her heart was pounding.
Rubbing the sweat and sleep from her face, she looked around.
She was sitting on a bed in a room with painted walls. Through the large windows, she could see that the sun was already up. How long have I slept, she wondered, carefully climbing out of the bed?
She had never been in a room like this. The walls had to be made from stone. The main building material in the valley was wood. Working or moving stone was a difficult task. Here even the floor consisted of smoothed stones fitted together.
Atissa felt disorientated. Instinctively she focused on her senses, taking in the noises and smells around her. Everything felt calm. It had not been a threat that had woken her.
She approached the window to take a look outside. Careful not to be seen she glanced around the side.
Her eyes widened.
There were more stone buildings, most of them several floors high - the streets between them filled with people. Men and women in simple dresses carried huge loads down the stone paths. Atissa noticed two men who stood out from the crowd as they walked by in their expensive-looking tunics, deep in conversation, just as a woman hurried past them, leading a child by the hand. A young man flanked by four warriors swept around the corner and the breath caught in Atissa’s throat.
He can’t be older than Hermistos and is already leading so many men. Memories flooded back to Atissa and she felt herself starting to shake. She slide to the floor under the window and tried to get a hold of herself.
She remembered the day before. Was it yesterday? It had to be.
She had worked the oars as long as she could. They had crossed into Riadnos’ bay – it was on these shores that the Helcenaean had built their city.
Only focused on her responsibility to get them away from danger, she hadn’t had the strength spare to study the shoreline. The fear the second boat might get around the burning galley to continue the chase had driven them.
At some point, they’d met another ship. Unable to remember what it looked like, all she saw in her mind were hands stretched out, helping her to climb up the side.
She remembered Mark asking them to bring up Hermistos and Iristos.
Wrapping her arms around herself, she dug her fingernails into her biceps.
Iristos was dead.
On the boat, she had tried not to think about his body slumped below her. His blood ran over the deck seeping onto her sandals. She could still recall the metallic smell.
She scrambled over to the bed where her sandals had been discarded. Somebody must have taken them off her after she’d fallen unconscious.
She reached out but stopped before her fingertips touched the leather.
Her instinct told her somebody was approaching the room before the girl stepped through the door.
“Oh, you’re awake,” she said. “Shall I show you the way to the bath?”
The girl smiled invitingly. She was pretty, about as tall as Atissa, but her body had already developed a womanly form. She wore a simple dress tunic, with her hair drawn into a bun at the nape.
“…where am I?” Atissa asked.
The girl frowned. Then her eyes widened as if she had just remembered something. “Right, they said you were asleep when they brought you here. You’re in the lower palace.” She nodded beaming at Atissa as if everything should be clear now.
Atissa felt overwhelmed by the girl’s radiating happiness. Iristos was dead. Everybody she knew was in danger. How could she smile like that?
The girl’s smile disappeared. “You’re crying. What’s wrong?”
I am?
Atissa touched her face. To her surprise, her hand came back wet. Everything felt overwhelming and she couldn’t hold it in anymore. She leaned forward and wept. Something inside her had broken.
After a moment she felt arms wrap around her, holding her tight. “There. You’re safe here. You’re safe.”
Some part of her wanted to push the girl away. She couldn’t be seen to be crying, especially, not in front of the other girls. She didn’t even know this person.
But she had no strength left to resist. She leaned into the hug.
Atissa wasn’t sure how long it took her to calm down. The girl stayed with her the whole time, slowly stroking her back.
When she had calmed down, the girl slowly released her, smiling tentatively.
“Thanks’,” Atissa said quietly. She felt a little embarrassed.
“It’s fine. Do you want to visit the bath, now? You can wash yourself, while I prepare some cloth and food.” The girl’s enthusiasm was irresistible and Atissa let herself be helped to her feet.
She hesitated, staring down at her sandals.
“Oh, the other servants said they already cleaned those,” the girl said, looking Atissa up and down. “You traveled in this a lot, right? I will bring you a fresh tunic from the servants’ rooms. Come.”
Atissa felt herself being pulled along by the too-happy girl. “I’m Atissa.”
“Oh, my name is Siria,” the girl said, continuing on at her hurried pace.
They left the room and sped along a corridor that opened into a small open courtyard. Chairs, tables, and loungers were arranged on one side.
“You see those two doors?” Siria asked, pointing to the other side of the courtyard. “The one on the left is the women’s bath. You can go in there and wash your body. I will bring you a clean tunic and help you with your hair if you want.”
Atissa felt overwhelmed by this place but the girl’s encouraging smile seemed so genuine. “…ok.”
“Great!”
Before Atissa could ask another question, Siria had turned around and rushed off.
She stayed frozen in the same spot for a moment, unsure what to do next, the empty courtyard looming before her. Then, taking a deep breath, she walked over to the door Siria had indicated. As she made to step into the room, she heard a familiar voice from the righthand door.
“No, I like the fragrance. I just want to know what ingredients are in it. Is there somebody we can consult?”
Atissa couldn’t hear the answer but a moment later a young man hurried past her - Mark following a couple of steps behind. He looked quite different from the last time Atissa had seen him. His hair was shorter, and his beard had been shaved. His chest too. Its pale skin stood in stark contrast to the suntanned arms and face.
He was barefoot and wore only a long towel wrapped around his hips, covering most of his legs.
“Hello Atissa, how are you doing?” he asked looking her up and down with a concerned expression.
Embarrassed, Atissa looked down. Are my eyes red from crying, she thought?
“I’m fine,” she said. Somehow, Mark was the last person she wanted to see her weep like a little girl. The embarrassment stopped her from showering him with all the questions she had. Where were they? What had happened to their comrades?
Mark nodded in understanding. “I woke up feeling horrible, too. My arms and shoulders were so sore, I was barely able to lift them. The bath will do you good. I’m about to get a massage. I’ll ask them if you can have one too.”
“Ok.” It was all Atissa managed to say. Mark seemed to be familiar with their surroundings and the treatment they were receiving.
He studied her for another two heartbeats. When he finally stepped past her, she reached out and touched his arm.
“Iristos? And Hermistos?” she asked, in a low voice not looking up at him again.
There was a moment of silence before Mark answered. “They took Iristos away to be buried. They couldn’t leave him out in the open.”
Atissa closed her eyes. Of course, they had to take care of the body as quickly as possible. The dead attracted demons and disease. A part of her was relieved that she wouldn’t have to see Iristos' corpse.
“Hermistos is here.” Mark pointed toward the direction Atissa had come from. “The servants are taking care of him and a doc…a healer was called. He hasn’t woken up since he fell unconscious on the boat and yet they can’t find anything else wrong with him. He hasn’t worsened at least.” He shrugged. “I asked them to send a messenger for Tepras and the others. They’re to meet us here later today.”
When Atissa didn’t respond, Mark gave her a slight push toward the door. “Go. Wash up. You will feel better afterward. And you will be able to think better too.”
The young man returned with an older man following close behind. It looked like they’d been running as the latter was breathing heavily, a slight wheeze in his chest.
“Master Mar’Doug, this man makes the oils and cremes we use in the palace,” the young servant said. “He can answer your questions.”
“It is my honor,” the older man said nervously.
“Thank you for taking the time,” Mark said, turning away from Atissa. “I just have some questions about ingredients. And sun protection. Lately, I have spent more time outside than I feel comfortable with.”
Deep in conversation, the three men walked over to the furnished area, leaving Atissa behind. Standing there, she didn’t quite know what to do with herself.
“Why are you still standing here?” Siria’s voice asked from behind her.
Atissa hadn’t even noticed her approaching. How broken am I, Atissa thought, giving herself a mental slap? Uncle Tatros would scold her for being this distracted.
“Come!” The energetic girl took her by the arm and led her into the bath. “Have you ever been to a bath before? The other servants said you came from the mountains. Here, let me help you.”
In her state, Atissa could anything other than follow Siria’s guidance. The other girl told her to put her dirty tunic into a basket and then helped her to wash her body. Atissa, used to cleaning herself in cold mountain streams, was amazed when Siria rubbed flowery-smelling oil over her body and scraped it clean with a tool carved from horn. She then proceeded to wash and comb her hair.
“Have you served the sage long?” Siria asked, pulling Atissa out of her thoughts.
“What?”
Except for Siria’s instructions, they hadn’t talked much since entering the bath. While it felt a bit weird at first, letting Siria do her work gave Atissa time to calm down. The sudden question caught her off guard.
“The master, he’s one of Nemki’s sages, isn’t he?” There was an eagerness in Siria’s eyes that made Atissa uncomfortable. The question reminded her that she knew next to nothing about the world outside the valley. Or her friend.
She decided it would be best to be careful but honest. Siria had been very nice to her after all. “I don’t know. I just met him about a week ago. Is a sage like a magi?”
Siria nodded eagerly. “The sages are very famous magi. There’re lots of legends about them. There’s the one where a sage taught Riadna’s son how to build the palace from limestone. And Memnostis is sometimes visited by one. They say she’s the only one, besides Ajaxos, the anax listens to.” She was so excited that she stopped combing Atissa’s hair. “You see, my friend serves as an apprentice priest in the temple. He said you can recognize the sages by their staff.”
“Don’t all magi have staffs?” Atissa asked.
“Yes,” Siria said, waving with the wooden comb. “At least I think so. But the sages carry special staffs. They have symbols of many different gods on them.” Siria bowed her head and whispered. “Some of them nobody but them can remember anymore.”
Forgotten gods? Atissa was impressed by Siria’s knowledge. She had always loved stories about heroes, magi, and gods but her uncle didn’t know many. Tatros preferred to talk about his time as a mercenary. And wrestling.
Iristos had told her a bit about the Helcenaean gods. And Licen’s wife had taught her about Horto and the beliefs of her people.
Seeing the eagerness in Siria’s eyes, she recognized the opportunity to ask questions she hadn’t dared to ask Mark. “You know a lot about magi. Can you tell me more about them? I only know very little from what the people from the valley talk about.”
Siria smiled and straightened herself. “Of course! I have served in the palace for two years and I always listen. I know many stories. But”, she pointed at Atissa, ”in return, you must tell me about your travels with the sage. Yes?”
“Sure.”
Siria clapped her hands, beaming in delight. “I’m done with your hair. Do you want a massage, too? The sage seemed to be very fond of the idea. Was it very hard? I heard from the guards that there was fighting on the lakes.”
Unsure how to answer, Atissa just nodded. “Mark - the sage - said, I should. But I’m not sure if it is ok for me to have one? I’m not an important person or anything.”
Siria tilted her head, examining her. “Well. The sage named you his companion. And he was very insistent that we take good care of you. I think that makes you an important guest.”
She wrapped a towel around Atissa and gestured for her to follow.
Walking behind Siria, Atissa remembered another question she had not asked yet. “Siria, whose house is this?”
Looking back, Sira smiled proudly. “This is the lower palace. You’re guests of Memnostis, anax of the great city of Riadnos.”
Atissa sat up straight, the blanket dropping into her lap.
Did I just scream? Her heart was pounding.
Rubbing the sweat and sleep from her face, she looked around.
She was sitting on a bed in a room with painted walls. Through the large windows, she could see that the sun was already up. How long have I slept, she wondered, carefully climbing out of the bed?
She had never been in a room like this. The walls had to be made from stone. The main building material in the valley was wood. Working or moving stone was a difficult task. Here even the floor consisted of smoothed stones fitted together.
Atissa felt disorientated. Instinctively she focused on her senses, taking in the noises and smells around her. Everything felt calm. It had not been a threat that had woken her.
She approached the window to take a look outside. Careful not to be seen she glanced around the side.
Her eyes widened.
There were more stone buildings, most of them several floors high - the streets between them filled with people. Men and women in simple dresses carried huge loads down the stone paths. Atissa noticed two men who stood out from the crowd as they walked by in their expensive-looking tunics, deep in conversation, just as a woman hurried past them, leading a child by the hand. A young man flanked by four warriors swept around the corner and the breath caught in Atissa’s throat.
He can’t be older than Hermistos and is already leading so many men. Memories flooded back to Atissa and she felt herself starting to shake. She slide to the floor under the window and tried to get a hold of herself.
She remembered the day before. Was it yesterday? It had to be.
She had worked the oars as long as she could. They had crossed into Riadnos’ bay – it was on these shores that the Helcenaean had built their city.
Only focused on her responsibility to get them away from danger, she hadn’t had the strength spare to study the shoreline. The fear the second boat might get around the burning galley to continue the chase had driven them.
At some point, they’d met another ship. Unable to remember what it looked like, all she saw in her mind were hands stretched out, helping her to climb up the side.
She remembered Mark asking them to bring up Hermistos and Iristos.
Wrapping her arms around herself, she dug her fingernails into her biceps.
Iristos was dead.
On the boat, she had tried not to think about his body slumped below her. His blood ran over the deck seeping onto her sandals. She could still recall the metallic smell.
She scrambled over to the bed where her sandals had been discarded. Somebody must have taken them off her after she’d fallen unconscious.
She reached out but stopped before her fingertips touched the leather.
Her instinct told her somebody was approaching the room before the girl stepped through the door.
“Oh, you’re awake,” she said. “Shall I show you the way to the bath?”
The girl smiled invitingly. She was pretty, about as tall as Atissa, but her body had already developed a womanly form. She wore a simple dress tunic, with her hair drawn into a bun at the nape.
“…where am I?” Atissa asked.
The girl frowned. Then her eyes widened as if she had just remembered something. “Right, they said you were asleep when they brought you here. You’re in the lower palace.” She nodded beaming at Atissa as if everything should be clear now.
Atissa felt overwhelmed by the girl’s radiating happiness. Iristos was dead. Everybody she knew was in danger. How could she smile like that?
The girl’s smile disappeared. “You’re crying. What’s wrong?”
I am?
Atissa touched her face. To her surprise, her hand came back wet. Everything felt overwhelming and she couldn’t hold it in anymore. She leaned forward and wept. Something inside her had broken.
After a moment she felt arms wrap around her, holding her tight. “There. You’re safe here. You’re safe.”
Some part of her wanted to push the girl away. She couldn’t be seen to be crying, especially, not in front of the other girls. She didn’t even know this person.
But she had no strength left to resist. She leaned into the hug.
Atissa wasn’t sure how long it took her to calm down. The girl stayed with her the whole time, slowly stroking her back.
When she had calmed down, the girl slowly released her, smiling tentatively.
“Thanks’,” Atissa said quietly. She felt a little embarrassed.
“It’s fine. Do you want to visit the bath, now? You can wash yourself, while I prepare some cloth and food.” The girl’s enthusiasm was irresistible and Atissa let herself be helped to her feet.
She hesitated, staring down at her sandals.
“Oh, the other servants said they already cleaned those,” the girl said, looking Atissa up and down. “You traveled in this a lot, right? I will bring you a fresh tunic from the servants’ rooms. Come.”
Atissa felt herself being pulled along by the too-happy girl. “I’m Atissa.”
“Oh, my name is Siria,” the girl said, continuing on at her hurried pace.
They left the room and sped along a corridor that opened into a small open courtyard. Chairs, tables, and loungers were arranged on one side.
“You see those two doors?” Siria asked, pointing to the other side of the courtyard. “The one on the left is the women’s bath. You can go in there and wash your body. I will bring you a clean tunic and help you with your hair if you want.”
Atissa felt overwhelmed by this place but the girl’s encouraging smile seemed so genuine. “…ok.”
“Great!”
Before Atissa could ask another question, Siria had turned around and rushed off.
She stayed frozen in the same spot for a moment, unsure what to do next, the empty courtyard looming before her. Then, taking a deep breath, she walked over to the door Siria had indicated. As she made to step into the room, she heard a familiar voice from the righthand door.
“No, I like the fragrance. I just want to know what ingredients are in it. Is there somebody we can consult?”
Atissa couldn’t hear the answer but a moment later a young man hurried past her - Mark following a couple of steps behind. He looked quite different from the last time Atissa had seen him. His hair was shorter, and his beard had been shaved. His chest too. Its pale skin stood in stark contrast to the suntanned arms and face.
He was barefoot and wore only a long towel wrapped around his hips, covering most of his legs.
“Hello Atissa, how are you doing?” he asked looking her up and down with a concerned expression.
Embarrassed, Atissa looked down. Are my eyes red from crying, she thought?
“I’m fine,” she said. Somehow, Mark was the last person she wanted to see her weep like a little girl. The embarrassment stopped her from showering him with all the questions she had. Where were they? What had happened to their comrades?
Mark nodded in understanding. “I woke up feeling horrible, too. My arms and shoulders were so sore, I was barely able to lift them. The bath will do you good. I’m about to get a massage. I’ll ask them if you can have one too.”
“Ok.” It was all Atissa managed to say. Mark seemed to be familiar with their surroundings and the treatment they were receiving.
He studied her for another two heartbeats. When he finally stepped past her, she reached out and touched his arm.
“Iristos? And Hermistos?” she asked, in a low voice not looking up at him again.
There was a moment of silence before Mark answered. “They took Iristos away to be buried. They couldn’t leave him out in the open.”
Atissa closed her eyes. Of course, they had to take care of the body as quickly as possible. The dead attracted demons and disease. A part of her was relieved that she wouldn’t have to see Iristos' corpse.
“Hermistos is here.” Mark pointed toward the direction Atissa had come from. “The servants are taking care of him and a doc…a healer was called. He hasn’t woken up since he fell unconscious on the boat and yet they can’t find anything else wrong with him. He hasn’t worsened at least.” He shrugged. “I asked them to send a messenger for Tepras and the others. They’re to meet us here later today.”
When Atissa didn’t respond, Mark gave her a slight push toward the door. “Go. Wash up. You will feel better afterward. And you will be able to think better too.”
The young man returned with an older man following close behind. It looked like they’d been running as the latter was breathing heavily, a slight wheeze in his chest.
“Master Mar’Doug, this man makes the oils and cremes we use in the palace,” the young servant said. “He can answer your questions.”
“It is my honor,” the older man said nervously.
“Thank you for taking the time,” Mark said, turning away from Atissa. “I just have some questions about ingredients. And sun protection. Lately, I have spent more time outside than I feel comfortable with.”
Deep in conversation, the three men walked over to the furnished area, leaving Atissa behind. Standing there, she didn’t quite know what to do with herself.
“Why are you still standing here?” Siria’s voice asked from behind her.
Atissa hadn’t even noticed her approaching. How broken am I, Atissa thought, giving herself a mental slap? Uncle Tatros would scold her for being this distracted.
“Come!” The energetic girl took her by the arm and led her into the bath. “Have you ever been to a bath before? The other servants said you came from the mountains. Here, let me help you.”
In her state, Atissa could anything other than follow Siria’s guidance. The other girl told her to put her dirty tunic into a basket and then helped her to wash her body. Atissa, used to cleaning herself in cold mountain streams, was amazed when Siria rubbed flowery-smelling oil over her body and scraped it clean with a tool carved from horn. She then proceeded to wash and comb her hair.
“Have you served the sage long?” Siria asked, pulling Atissa out of her thoughts.
“What?”
Except for Siria’s instructions, they hadn’t talked much since entering the bath. While it felt a bit weird at first, letting Siria do her work gave Atissa time to calm down. The sudden question caught her off guard.
“The master, he’s one of Nemki’s sages, isn’t he?” There was an eagerness in Siria’s eyes that made Atissa uncomfortable. The question reminded her that she knew next to nothing about the world outside the valley. Or her friend.
She decided it would be best to be careful but honest. Siria had been very nice to her after all. “I don’t know. I just met him about a week ago. Is a sage like a magi?”
Siria nodded eagerly. “The sages are very famous magi. There’re lots of legends about them. There’s the one where a sage taught Riadna’s son how to build the palace from limestone. And Memnostis is sometimes visited by one. They say she’s the only one, besides Ajaxos, the anax listens to.” She was so excited that she stopped combing Atissa’s hair. “You see, my friend serves as an apprentice priest in the temple. He said you can recognize the sages by their staff.”
“Don’t all magi have staffs?” Atissa asked.
“Yes,” Siria said, waving with the wooden comb. “At least I think so. But the sages carry special staffs. They have symbols of many different gods on them.” Siria bowed her head and whispered. “Some of them nobody but them can remember anymore.”
Forgotten gods? Atissa was impressed by Siria’s knowledge. She had always loved stories about heroes, magi, and gods but her uncle didn’t know many. Tatros preferred to talk about his time as a mercenary. And wrestling.
Iristos had told her a bit about the Helcenaean gods. And Licen’s wife had taught her about Horto and the beliefs of her people.
Seeing the eagerness in Siria’s eyes, she recognized the opportunity to ask questions she hadn’t dared to ask Mark. “You know a lot about magi. Can you tell me more about them? I only know very little from what the people from the valley talk about.”
Siria smiled and straightened herself. “Of course! I have served in the palace for two years and I always listen. I know many stories. But”, she pointed at Atissa, ”in return, you must tell me about your travels with the sage. Yes?”
“Sure.”
Siria clapped her hands, beaming in delight. “I’m done with your hair. Do you want a massage, too? The sage seemed to be very fond of the idea. Was it very hard? I heard from the guards that there was fighting on the lakes.”
Unsure how to answer, Atissa just nodded. “Mark - the sage - said, I should. But I’m not sure if it is ok for me to have one? I’m not an important person or anything.”
Siria tilted her head, examining her. “Well. The sage named you his companion. And he was very insistent that we take good care of you. I think that makes you an important guest.”
She wrapped a towel around Atissa and gestured for her to follow.
Walking behind Siria, Atissa remembered another question she had not asked yet. “Siria, whose house is this?”
Looking back, Sira smiled proudly. “This is the lower palace. You’re guests of Memnostis, anax of the great city of Riadnos.”
