Quiver Read Online Free PDF Page B

this.”
    It was a gold ring, heavy enough to stun a crow. Carved into it was a double thunderbolt, the weapon of Almighty Zeus. The man who wore this had a very high opinion of himself, I thought, rolling it in my palm, and wondering where I had seen such a thing before.
    “It is the king’s,” said Castor, and Bias nodded slowly, almost unwillingly.
    The king’s, I thought, for suddenly I could not speak.
    “Atalanta.” Bias said my name with such sadness and finality that I quivered. Wanting suddenly to be rid of the ring, but knowing my impulse came too late, I gave it back to him. Now the children were silent, and I heard broken whispers from the women.
    A preternatural stillness came over me, and I thought of the Fates—patient, inescapable. It was as if, by touching the ring, I had agreed to something that had been decided long, long ago.
    Aware that the horsemen were watching me, I straightened, standing tall. Then they stepped forward, claiming me for my father.

ELEVEN
    I gathered my few belongings and made my farewells.
    “Remember us,” said Castor, and my mouth trembled. Feeling the press of his warm, sure hand on my head, I whispered that I would see him soon, for to say anything else would have made me cry.
    Then we set off down the mountain. The men, who had introduced themselves curtly as Mataios and Perifanos, led their horses down the steep, rocky trails in silence. From time to time the horses slid, and the men exchanged uneasy glances. They might have done better fetching me on mountain goats, I thought spitefully.
    Before long, Aura and I forgot ourselves and went too far ahead of them. The first time we were lost to their view, I heard Mataios—the elder—call out, “Princess!”
    I stopped in my tracks.
    Princess! I thought, jarred by the sound of it. As we waited there, I wondered if Meleager’s uncle Plexippus, who had called me a slut with dirt between her toes (and he was right about the dirt), might have curbed his rage if he had known I was royalty. Perhaps. Most certainly he would still be alive.
    I scowled, disliking the memory and where it led. My visit to the oracle had eased my mind about the Hunt and its terrible consequences, and I could think of them now with some measure of calm. Still, I did not like to think of them at all.
    Then, as I stood there, the first of my oracle dreams came back to me.
    The skeletal man beckoned, and I knew that he was King Iasus, the father who had left me to die when I was born. I knew also that he was weak, nearly moribund, yet possessed of a strong malevolence. My fear of the bloody bowls at his feet gave him great satisfaction.
    I wondered if the king intended to harm me, and if the entrails were indeed human. Everyone knew that human sacrifice was still practiced in some parts of Arcadia. Was the king inviting me to sacrifice myself?
    I shivered. And where was the queen? Nowhere in the dream, I thought. Absent, just as she had been absent from my life.
    With this thought the men reached us. They were panting, and their horses were blowing a little. Dark patches of sweat marked their coats.
    “The paths up here are difficult,” I observed.
    Mataios caught his breath. “You do not seem to find them so,” he said.
    “I know them well,” I replied.
    “Are we far from the field with the shepherd’s hut?” he asked.
    “No, it is—” I was interrupted by a high-pitched, wavering call, like an eerie scream. It was not the call of any bird I knew.
    The horses’ ears shot forward and a low, ruffling sound came from deep within their throats. Perifanos’ horse backed a little, tossing his head. Then he, too, cried out shrilly, and from a distance the call came back.
    “There they are,” said Mataios with evident relief.
    “More horses?” I asked.
    “One more,” said Perifanos, and now he was smiling. “For you.”
    Her name was Callisto. She was dainty and copper-colored, adorned with tassels, and when she saw us, she whinnied