"Unaware of my presence, they were talking intently among themselves. I could not help overhearing their conversation, and I was shocked and horrified; for I quickly understood that they were scheming to steal huge sums of money from the palace treasury.
"Not daring to move, I listened with mounting in dignation at such dishonesty and treachery; and grew so agitated that my foot scraped against one of the jars. At this, Cerda broke off and scowled villainously.
"Hark," he whispered, furtively glancing around. "What's that noise? Are you sure we're alone?"
"Only a rat," replied Calchas. "The place is crawling with them."
"Yes," I thought, "and I see three of them right there." I pressed closer behind the jars; but, amid the dust and spiderwebs, I began sneezing violently.
"A rat?" burst out Cerda. "Next, you'll tell me he'll blow his nose."
Seeing no other course, I boldly sprang from my hiding place. "Your vile conspiracy is exposed!" I exclaimed. "You are no better than common thieves and deserve to be treated as such."
At first, they cringed in terror, knowing their criminal wrongdoing would cost their lives. They begged me to keep their secret, promising a share of their ill-gotten gains in exchange for my silence. This offer, naturally, I refused.
"Overcoming their alarm, they realized that they were three against one, and they all set upon me. As much as I fought and struggled, they overpowered and bound me hand and foot with ropes. Next, they lifted me up and put me into one of the jars.
"There you stay, my fine fellow," said Calchas, "until we come back and decide how best to dispose of you."
"What was I to do? Imprisoned in an oil jar, my life hanging in the balance, I nevertheless remained calm and sought a way to release myself. I quickly discovered the means. Some oil was still in the bottom of the jar. I soaked the ropes in it, covering hands and feet with the substance. This lubrication allowed me to slip free of my bonds.
"However, no sooner had I climbed out of the jar than Calchas and Phobos returned; in their hands were sharp, glittering meat cleavers.
"Seeing me about to escape, the villains pursued me all around the storeroom, brandishing their murderous cleavers and vowing to chop me into a hundred pieces. Dodging Calchas, I was nearly overtaken by Phobos; spinning away from Phobos, I strove to elude Calchas. Step by step, inch by inch, they pressed me closer and closer. Another instant and I would be hopelessly trapped. Calchas raised his cleaver, about to bring it down on my head.
"The gleaming blade whistled through the air. In the nick of time, even as the fearsome weapon was no more than a hair's breadth away, I sprang through a window, raced across the courtyard, scaled the wall, and dropped to the other side.
"By good fortune, a donkey happened to be standing at that very spot. I landed astride-"
"Stop," Joy-in-the-Dance broke in. "Enough."
"It's a terrifying scene," said Lucian. "I'm sorry if it upset you."
"It didn't," said Joy-in-the-Dance. "It's ridiculous. The most preposterous tissue of nonsense I've ever heard."
"It's true," protested Lucian. "Almost. Some of it. The facts-yes, all right, a little different. They're not important. Fronto himself told me so."
"You take advice from a jackass?"
"He's a poet. I'm trying to explain-"
"Save your breath," said Joy-in-the-Dance. "First, you claim you need help, then you come out with some absurd fabrication. I don't know what you're up to and I don't think I want to. I certainly don't want to be fobbed off with meat cleavers and oil jars and jumping out of windows. If you're going to lie, at least be convincing. Good-bye. I have things to do."
"I thought you were a healer," Lucian burst out as the girl turned away. "You're supposed to help people, aren't you? Never mind, then. Go on, walk off. Goodbye yourself. I don't care if you believe it or not, but my friend got changed into a donkey and that's a fact."
Joy-in-the-Dance turned and strode back to him.
"What did you say? Changed into-is that more of your nonsense?"
"It's exactly what happened," Lucian retorted. The girl's eyes were fixed on his own, as if she were trying to peer through them into the nooks and crannies of his brain. He had the uncomfortable impression that she might be succeeding.
Joy-in-the-Dance said nothing for a few moments, then stretched out a finger to prod Lucian's chest. "Listen to me, Aiee-Ouch-"
"My name's Lucian."
"Yes. Well, listen to me, Aiee-Ouch. If you're spinning out another tale, I'll be very unhappy with you. But I'm going to assume there's a grain of truth in all this."
"A grain? Thank you for believing that much. Do you mind telling me how you'll make sure?"
"Simple. I'll go and ask your friend."
"Oh? As easy as that?" Lucian said wryly. "If you didn't think I could get to him, I don't see how you will. You? A girl?"
"You noticed? That was clever of you." Joy-in-the-Dance smiled. "Yes, Aiee-Ouch, I'll be interested in having a few words with your jackass."
Joy-in-the-Dance beckoned him to a sheltered spot away from the smoldering farmhouse. There, she sat cross-legged, folded her hands, and lowered her eyes. "What are you doing?" cried Lucian. "You said we were going after Fronto."
"We are. At the right time. Meanwhile, I'm sleeping. Or was, until you interrupted."
"You sleep sitting up? Like a chicken? I never heard of such a thing."
"You Bear people wouldn't know how. It's a little knack we learn when we're children; and it's more comfortable than sprawling on the ground-like a stunned ox. You'd be wise to get some rest, too, instead of flapping around."
The girl took a deep breath and again shut her eyes. Lucian paced back and forth, chafing at the delay, impatient to reach Fronto. At last, he gave in to weariness and sank down with his knees drawn up and his head resting on them. Long after moonrise, Joy-in-the-Dance leisurely climbed to her feet and motioned for Lucian to follow.
Stepping quickly and quietly, they reached the village just before dawn. The little marketplace was empty, nothing stirred. Lucian would have clung cautiously to the shadows, but the girl walked straight to the inn and glanced through a window.
"Good," she whispered. "The captain and his louts have stuffed themselves and swilled everything they could find. An earthquake wouldn't rouse them. That's why I waited."
"They'll have sentries on watch."
The girl shrugged. She beckoned Lucian to the rear of the inn, where an open-fronted shed served as a stable. Amid the tethered pack animals, a guard squatted, head nodding, a guttering lantern beside him. Lucian glimpsed Fronto, ears woefully drooping.
"Stay here," said Joy-in-the-Dance as Lucian started forward. She went boldly to the guard, who roused and reached for his sword.
"Put that away. You don't need it," Joy-in-the-Dance said reassuringly. "I brought you something. Just what you've been wanting. See here. Look. Look close."
The girl made a few quick motions at the sentry. "A roasted partridge. It smells delicious. Done to a tum. Your mouth's watering for it, you're so hungry. Go on, eat your fill."
Lucian saw nothing whatever in the girl's outstretched hands. Yet the sentry's face lit up, he licked his lips, and put his fingers to his mouth as if he were cramming in morsels of food.
"It tastes so good." Joy-in-the-Dance nodded approval while the man chewed and gulped empty air. "You'll want something to wash it down."
Again, she held out her hands. "A big pitcher of what you like best. Drink up, don't stint yourself. You deserve a little refreshment, sitting here all night.
"It's strong," she went on as the guard made a show of swigging from an invisible vessel. "Oh, I'm afraid it's gone to your head. Spinning round and round. Tipsy, are you? Yes. Very tipsy. No matter, you'll sleep it off. Now."
At this, the guard swayed on his feet and sat down heavily, belching and snoring, lost to the world. "What did you do?" Lucian gasped. "There's no partridge. No pitcher of drink. How-?"
 
; "Don't babble, Aiee-Ouch. Go fetch your donkey."
Lucian daned into the shed, warned the poet to be silent, and hastily untethered him.
"Let's get out of here," said Joy-in-the-Dance. "That sentry's going to wake up soon-with a pounding head and a bad case of indigestion."
The girl moved quietly and calmly across the marketplace, Lucian and Fronto behind her. Once out of the village, she headed into the woodlands, setting such a brisk pace that Lucian wondered if she could see in the dark as well as conjure up roasted fowl. It was sunrise by the time she halted.
"Very well," she said. "Here's your donkey. What does he have to say for himself?"
"Who are you? What are you?" murmured Lucian.
"You cast some kind of spell back there. I've heard tales of that." He drew back uneasily. "Are you a girl at all?"
"I should hope so. And I didn't cast a spell. I only suggested what the guard wanted and he did the rest himself. You might thank me for saving your jackass instead of gaping like an idiot; but, never mind, I want to hear him talk."
"It's all right," Lucian said to Fronto. "Joy-in-the-Dance is-claims-she's a healer."
"Blessings on you, my dear young woman." Fronto tossed his head. "I'm delighted beyond words to make your acquaintance."
"He does talk," the girl said to Lucian. "That much is true."
"You're not surprised?" said Fronto.
"Why should I be? Every animal talks. I admit you're the first jackass I've met who uses human speech, but being able to talk is less important than being able to talk sense. Your friend has difficulty along those lines. So, you tell me straight out what happened."
"Once you hear my sad history," said Fronto, "I have no doubt that you'll be moved by those emotions I conveyed in one of my finest odes: pity and terror."
"In that case," said Joy-in-the-Dance, "keep it mercifully short." Fronto quickly repeated his account, concluding with his misadventure in the pool. Instead of pity and terror, the girl displayed what Lucian had to judge as fury. She seized Fronto by the ears and began shaking him until his teeth rattled.
"You drank? You swam?" she burst out. "How dare you-"
"Let him be!" Lucian sprang to protect the belabored poet. "You're supposed to cure him, not batter him to pieces." He tussled with Joy-in-the-Dance, who was much stronger than he expected; at last he pulled her away. She and Lucian fell back, out of breath and glaring at each other.
"He meant no harm," declared Lucian. "He wanted to go to the pythoness and beg forgiveness. It's not his fault if the warriors attacked the sanctuary and walled her up.
"As for that," Lucian hurried on, "the pythoness herself started all the trouble. If she hadn't given Bromios that prophecy to begin with, there’s have been no attack. Or farmhouses burned, wise-women hunted down, or anything else. Fronto might have made a little mistake, but it's the pythoness who's responsible for the trouble he's in now."
"Oh, yes, twist everything around," Joy-in-the-Dance snapped back. "To be expected from a man, and one of the Bear tribe into the bargain."
"Bear tribe or not, that's how I see it," Lucian retorted. "I'm sorry for what happened to her, but I wish she could know what a mess she began."
"She does." The girl's eyes flashed. "I'm Woman Who-Talks-to-Snakes."
7 - Mysteries of Women
"My dear girl," Fronto said as Lucian's jaw dropped, "the oracle has resided in her cave from time immemorial. In which case, you'd be as ancient as Mount Lema itself. Clearly-and charmingly, I hasten to add you are noticeably younger. I'm grateful for whatever assistance you gave my friend here, but you can hardly expect us to believe-"
"Fronto, I don't know who she is or what she is," Lucian murmured, "but she's the one who rescued you. She did it all. That business with the partridge-"
"Was a bird involved?" said Fronto. "Did I miss something? I was deep in unhappy thoughts, paying no attention until the moment you untied me. How did a partridge come into it?"
"Never mind, I'll explain later." Lucian paused and shook his head. "I don't see how it's possible, but is there any way she could be telling the truth? She can do amazing things. I've seen that for myself."
"I quite understand," replied Fronto, "that any lad would be eager to believe whatever an attractive young woman chooses to tell him. Only apply a little reason and common sense. The oracle was walled up in the cave. We must presume she perished there."
"When the two of you decide whether I'm old as the hills or dead as a mackerel," said Joy-in-the-Dance, "I'll be interested in your conclusions. As for you, Aiee-Ouch, I'm delighted to hear one of you Bear men admit that a girl can do anything at all. It must have felt like having your skin peeled off.
"As for you," she added to Fronto, "you're a poet, so apply a little imagination. Did it ever cross your mind that there could be another way out of the cave? Or more than one pythoness? Oracles don't live forever. There were dozens before me.
"I served the last one. She taught me her lore and learning. When she died this winter, I was chosen to take her place. I'm not used to having my word questioned; but, for the sake of ending the discussion-"
From beneath her tunic she drew out a medallion on a silver chain: the figure of a woman crowned with a tall headdress and holding a serpent in each hand. "Here. The emblem of Woman-Who-Talks-to-Snakes. Only a pythoness may wear it."
Fronto stared a moment, then burst out: "Revered oracle! Venerated pythoness! I humbly apologize for doubting. And let me add that I wholeheartedly deplore the disaster that's come upon you."
"Disaster, yes, it's every bit of that," Joy-in-the-Dance said, her features tightening. "The Lady's devotees are hunted down, their lives at stake. I've seen to it that my maidens are safe in hiding, and as many others as I could reach. I sent away the healer at the farm. Right now, that's the best I can do. Which isn't much in the way of settling things.
"Aiee-Ouch was right," she added bitterly. "My prophecy started the whole mess-as he was very quick to point out."
"I didn't mean to put it quite that way," said Lucian.
"It's true, no matter how you put it," Joy-in-the-Dance said. "I knew there’s be trouble for sure, but it turned out worse than I foresaw."
"Couldn't you have changed the prophecy?" asked Lucian. "Made it a little easier for Bromios to swallow? Or thought up something different?"
"You don't think up a prophecy. It comes to you. First, it isn't there; then, there it is. The same way, I suppose, that a poem comes to mind. I can't explain it. Fronto should know what I mean."
"Indeed I do," said Fronto, "though it hasn't happened to me lately."
"But-yes, I thought of changing it." The girl's face fell. "I wanted to. It was my first prophecy. It frightened me. I couldn't understand what it meant. I didn't want to be the one who pronounced it. I was tempted a dozen times to put it aside. Who'd have known? Not Bromios. I could have told him any sort of harmless nonsense and that would have been the end of it.
"I even wondered if it was false, or if I'd misunderstood. Until the moment Bromios set foot in the cave, I still wasn't sure what to do."
The girl's chin went up, in pride and defiance; but Lucian saw tears glinting in her eyes. "Then I decided I couldn't turn away from what I had to tell him. I spoke the prophecy as it had come to me. Now that I see what it brought on us," she glanced down and shook her head "I'm not sure if I did right or wrong."
"I'm not the one to say," Lucian admitted. "I don't know about such mysteries. I just count beans. What I do know-what I didn't realize before-you risked your life rescuing Fronto in the midst of the king's warriors. They're hunting the pythoness everywhere."
"They think she's an old hag," said Joy-in-the-Dance.
"Do I fit that description? But you and Fronto shouldn't linger. I'll miss my guess if the captain doesn't send his men out searching."
"They won't go to that much trouble for a missing donkey."
"Not for a donkey. For me. The guard's bound to report what happ
ened. The captain isn't altogether stupid. Even a Bear warrior has brains enough to reckon that anyone who makes a roasted partridge appear out of thin air is worth some close questioning.
"Let them look for me. They won't find me. I'll set so many false trails they won't know which way they're going. It will keep them off your track, too. They'll be so busy they won't think about following you."
"You're not leaving-"
"Yes, I'm afraid I have to. Good-bye-Lucian." She grinned at him. "No. Aiee-Ouch suits you better."
"Stop! Stop!" burst out Fronto. "You're forgetting something most important: changing me back to myself."
"Fronto, I'm truly sorry for you," the girl said. "I wish I could do as you ask."
"But surely you can," said Lucian. "You speak prophecies, conjure up partridges and who knows what else; you can sleep like a chicken-"
"Adorable pythoness!" exclaimed Fronto, in growing alarm and dismay. "Turning an ass into a man-what effort would it take, with all those powers? Hardly enough to raise a sweat."
"It doesn't work that way," the girl said patiently. "Let me explain. No one, these days, has magical powers. Not even I."
"Oh?" Fronto snorted. "Then what happened to me?"
"I'm trying to tell you. We don't have magical powers. The powers we do have are useful, but they aren't magical. All of us devoted to the Lady learn about healing herbs, the movement of the stars telling when to plant and reap. How to find water underground. We understand the speech of animals-but only because we watch and listen and know their ways. And a lot more, besides. All perfectly natural. You men call them woman’s mysteries because we keep them to ourselves. We don't share them with men, Bear men least of all."
"How can you not?" interrupted Lucian. "These are marvelous things for everybody."
"We don't trust you men with them," said Joy-in-the-Dance. "Thickheaded oafs like Bromios? Worse yet, that pair of greedy soothsayers? They're vicious and ruthless, beneath all their oiliness. They'd twist that knowledge to their own purposes. They'd use it to kill and destroy. We women won't let that happen."