Chapter 4: Mutual Curiosity

“Are you ready?” Asteria asked.

“I’m ready to try,” Leandros replied, taking her furry hand. She lifted him to his feet with little difficulty, Leandros wincing as he put weight on his injured leg. He took a shaky step away from his bed with Asteria supporting him, then another, and another. After a few more tentative paces, he let go of her hand.

“You heal remarkably quickly,” she mused. “Do you feel strong enough to set out?”

“I think so,” he replied, testing the limb. “We cannot delay too much longer.”

“Good. I have prepared all the supplies that we should need.”

She turned to her pile of belongings, producing a large satchel for herself and returning the one that he had brought with him. It was laden with preserved meat wrapped in cloth now, and a full waterskin. There was a clatter as she retrieved his helmet and cuirass, but he waved her away when she offered them to him.

“They’re too dented,” he explained. “I’d need a smith’s hammer to-”

Asteria turned the bronze cuirass over so that it was facing away from her, then balled her fist, punching the dent out. She did the same with the helmet, then offered them to him again.

“Alright,” he muttered, taking them from her outstretched hands. He donned his armor, then she returned his kopis, Leandros sliding the flared blade into a scabbard on his belt. “Do you have a spear for me? Maybe a shield? Mine were ... damaged.”

“Take whatever you need from my collection,” she replied, gesturing to the salvaged equipment that filled her monopteros. “I will no longer be needing it.”

He selected a spear that had similar reach and balance as his own, then picked up a bronze shield, sliding his arm into the leather straps. After slinging a cape over his shoulders, he was ready to go. His leg was still sore – his thigh burned with each flex of the injured muscle, and it was a little unsteady when he put his weight on it, but he couldn’t spend another day lying on his back. He would push through it.

“Do you have everything that you need?” Leandros asked.

“I think so,” she replied, hefting her heavy satchel. She was laden with little pouches that hung from the many leather straps and decorative threads that covered her body, her massive axe resting in a makeshift holster made from loops of rope that was strung across her broad back. “Oh, one more thing,” she added as she turned to pluck something from a nail that was hammered into one of the marble pillars. “Here – I think you dropped this.”

It was the lantern that Olysseus had given him, its eternal flame still smoldering. He thanked her, then attached it to his belt. The pair set off, leaving the brightly-lit monopteros behind them as they walked across the grass, approaching a shadowy opening on the far side of the cavern. As they stepped over the threshold, Asteria stopped suddenly, her eyes wide.

“What is it?” Leandros asked, glancing up at her.

“Hold on a moment. I think I forgot something.”

She turned and ran back to the domed structure, rummaging inside it for a couple of minutes as though frantically searching for something. When she reappeared, she was closing a pouch on her belt, hurrying back over to join him.

“What had you forgotten?” Leandros asked, but she dodged the question.

“Nothing important. Come on.”

Leandros carried his lantern high, its glow illuminating the stone walls as they traipsed through the tunnels. Asteria didn’t even need to use her map – she knew this area like the back of her hand. How many times must she have walked these halls to have memorized every twist and turn – every dead end? The sound of hooves on stone echoed down the tunnel, her heavy, bovine breathing filling the air. Even though he now knew that she was not someone to be feared, it still brought back memories of encountering her in the dark passage, the aftertaste of that fear lingering like a bitter wine on his tongue.

“I can’t imagine spending my life down here,” he muttered, glancing around at the damp walls. “Do you even have any memories of what life was like on the surface?”

“They are vague,” she replied. “I was very young when I was taken away, but some images still stick with me. Blue skies, an ocean that had no end, the feeling of the breeze in my hair.”

They came to a junction, Asteria pausing before gesturing down the left path.

“This way. We have been walking for some time. There is a room down this tunnel where we might rest for a while.”

She led him through more winding passageways until they eventually came upon one of the facsimiles of a villa that he had come across during his travels. The bare stone gave way to tiled floors and ornate pillars, the roof above their heads taking on an arched quality. Braziers lit by Promethean flame burned to cast their wavering glow on the walls, the two companions stepping through into an expansive room that resembled the main hall of a palace. Despite the impressive scale and opulence of the edifice, it remained strangely empty, devoid of any furnishings that might give it purpose. The walls were lined with marble statues situated between the pillars, as finely sculpted as any that one might expect to find in a temple.

“What are these places?” Leandros asked, craning his neck as he gazed up at a burning brazier that hung from the ceiling on chains. “They look like palaces, but there’s nothing inside them. I wondered if perhaps Daedalus had intended for you to live in them, but there isn’t so much as a chair in sight.”

“Purely to break up the monotony, I assume,” she replied as she made her way over to a raised podium in the center of the cavernous room. It had no discernible purpose, but it was about the right height for her to sit on. Leandros followed her, perching on one of the steps that led up to it.

“Did it work?” he asked, reaching for his satchel. He pulled it open and fished for one of the little parcels of smoked rabbit meat, unwrapping it, then biting into one of the strips. It was good – better than the dried fish rations that he had been given on his way inside. Asteria had seasoned it well.

“Well, I have not completely lost my mind,” she chuckled. “There was an allure to exploring, for a while. I somehow managed to convince myself that there might be some way out, that around the next bend – or in the next cavern – I might find an exit that Daedalus had not accounted for. We often overestimate ourselves when we are young. I thought that I could outsmart the cleverest man in Crete.”

“We can still outsmart him,” Leandros replied, chewing off another strip of meat. “His labyrinth might be watertight, but he can’t control every variable. He never accounted for a would-be assassin helping you escape.”

“You are certainly a variable,” she chuckled, setting her own satchel down on the polished stone. She retrieved a long strip of dried meat, taking generous bites with those ivory teeth, Leandros watching her curiously as she chewed. Just seeing her cow-like face move was surreal. Maybe it was because he had grown more used to her unconventional appearance over the last few days, or perhaps it was because her more human features were jumping out at him, but she didn’t look anywhere near as frightening as he had first assumed. He considered asking her whether she ate grass too, but thought better of it.

“Why do you stare?” she asked, pausing her meal to glance down at him. “Am I so monstrous?”

“What? No,” he stammered. “What gave you that idea?”

“Earlier, you said that women were supposed to be small and soft,” she replied as she bit off another piece of rabbit. “I am none of those things.”

“I meant it as a compliment,” he explained, one of her bovine ears flicking. “I’ve never met anyone who could keep pace with me like you can – man or woman. I’ve never been bested in single combat. At least, not since sparring as a child.”

“Most of the people that I have met in my life have fled in terror at the sight of me,” she added, her lips curling into a sarcastic smile. This was the first time that he had really paid any attention to them. They were closer to those of a cow than a person, thick and dark, shining as they reflected the light from the braziers above them. “I have been called abomination, beast, monster. You disagree?”

“The people who told me that you were a monster hadn’t seen your face in fifteen years,” he replied. “They were also very invested in convincing me to murder you, so I would take their opinions on beauty with a grain of salt.”

“Who said anything of beauty?” she asked, turning back to her meal.

“Look at these statues,” he began, gesturing to the nearest one with a piece of meat in hand. “Have you ever taken the time to admire them?”

“Of course,” she replied. “Many times, I have found myself gazing upon statues and effigies. I know their cold flesh as intimately as my own. They were my only reference for what other people were supposed to look like for a long while.”

“Do you know how much painstaking work goes into sculpting these – how much artistry?” he continued. “Every inch of them was pored over by a sculptor, every crease and dimple an artistic decision made in reverence of the human form. They attempt to reproduce the work of the Gods, to create an earthly representation of what they see as perfection. You have more in common with these statues than not.”

“I don’t see it,” she replied, her eyes playing over the marble figures.

“I am sure that there are sculptors out there who would give a fortune to have you model for them,” he added. “Truly – I don’t know if it’s due to the harsh life that you have lived down here, or maybe a consequence of your ancestry, but you would be the envy of any athlete on the surface. I’ve never seen anyone as strong as you.”

That seemed to perk her up a little, and she reached for her waterskin, washing down her meal with a long draw. She was messy – not accustomed to attending banquets with kings – spilling some of the water down her chin.

“I suspect that you are flattering me,” she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her furry hand. “Not to worry – I have already decided not to crush your skull.”

“I strived my whole life to be strong,” Leandros said, admiring one of the muscular statues. “I was trained by the best instructors that my father could afford, I fought until my hands were covered in blisters, I dedicated my life to the art of warfare. And here you are,” he said, glancing up at her. “No training, no fancy instructors, not even a desire to fight – yet more of a warrior than I have become.”

“It was not by choice,” she replied, taking another drink from her waterskin. “Minos has forced me to do what I must to survive.”

“They say that the best rulers are those who never desired to rule,” he added. “Maybe the same is true of warriors.”

“Why did your father want you to fight?” she asked, supporting herself with her hands as she leaned back a little on the pedestal. It was impossible to ignore the way that the flickering fire from the brazier above their heads reflected off her shiny fur, picking out the contours of her chiseled midriff, but she seemed completely unaware of how she looked to his eyes. “Did he not fear for your safety?”

“My father is a master tactician,” Leandros replied, tearing his gaze away from her impressive figure. “He is the ruler of Kos, and has led his nation to victory in several military campaigns. In his youth, he was a renowned swordsman, undefeated on the battlefield. One day, he will die, and I will have to rule Kos in his stead. If I am to continue his legacy, I must become knowledgeable in both war and politics. I must become a great warrior.”

“Do you enjoy war and killing?” she asked, the rope-like locks of her long hair falling over her shoulders as she cocked her head at him.

“I don’t know if I’d put it that way,” he replied, fishing for another piece of rabbit inside his satchel. “I love the skill and athleticism of a fight. I love outmaneuvering an enemy – the thrill of victory. I do not love the consequences of war. Honor and glory mean respect, renown. If I am loved by my people and feared by my enemies, I will make a better king.”

“I think you would make a better king than Minos,” Asteria replied, her tail draping over the edge of the pedestal. “I have not even known you for a week, yet I can see that you are more compassionate than he is. Showing me respect rather than killing me in my sleep took great courage. You did not stand to benefit in any way, but you knew that it was the right thing to do.”

“I must seem foolish to you,” he continued with a sigh. “You’ve spent your life trying to avoid conflict, but I seek it out for sport.”

“Less foolish – now that I know you have your reasons,” she replied. “Your father sounds like a great man, and you will have to take his place on the throne one day. Even with the blood of a God coursing through your veins, that is no easy prospect.”

“I won’t pretend that there isn’t a little vanity involved,” he conceded. “With each generation, my family’s blood is diluted a little more. I suppose I’m trying to prove to myself that I can measure up to my father – that I’m not just a lesser version of him.”

“Maybe that is for the best,” she replied. “I am of the opinion that the Gods should keep to their damned mountain and stop bothering the rest of us.”

“You certainly got a rougher deal than I did,” he said, glancing up at her. “You are far stronger than I am, but your attributes have been treated more as a curse than a gift.”

“Sometimes, I wonder what my life would have been like if my mother had not ... if I had been sired by Minos instead. I would look like everyone else, and I would live on the surface, enjoying every luxury afforded to a princess. Then, I consider that I would have to call Minos my father, and that makes me glad of my heritage. I would rather be born of an animal than a monster.”

“Are you planning to kill him when we reach the surface?” Leandros asked.

“I don’t know,” she admitted with a shrug. “I have often thought of it, but now that the opportunity is within reach, I am not sure what I want. I don’t know if my mother still harbors any affection for him.”

“They’ve had no children,” Leandros said. “Seems unlikely.”

“What about you?” she asked. “Will helping me mean war between Kos and Crete?”

“I don’t know,” he replied. “Helping assassinate a foreign king isn’t the most diplomatically expedient thing to do, but he lied to me, and he has been proven a tyrant. He is a danger to his people, and perhaps he would have become a danger to mine later. He is the one who set this chain of events into motion.”

“We should keep moving,” Asteria said, rising to her feet. Her heavy hooves clopped against the stone floor, the sound echoing throughout the cavernous room. “How is your leg?” she added, extending a hand to him. He hesitated, then took it, Asteria hauling him to his feet.

“It feels better the more I use it,” he said, his companion nodding her horned head.

“This way,” she continued, setting off towards one of the dark doorways.

“This looks like as good a place as any to stop for the night,” Asteria said, stepping into one of the caverns.

Leandros followed behind her, another expanse of grass extending before him. This one formed an enclosed glade beneath the domed ceiling, the mirrored shafts at its apex letting the orange-tinted light of the setting sun spill inside, which cast its glow on the canopy below. The trees were dense enough here to provide shade – not that sunlight was ever in such abundance that one would need it – densely clustered in the center of the chamber. There were shrubs and patches of wildflowers, too, as though someone had cut off a little piece of a forest and had transplanted it underground. He could hear the trickle of water – there must be a stream or two feeding into the room.

Asteria strode across the grass on her long legs, heading into the shade beneath the trees. If it wasn’t for the lack of a breeze, Leandros could almost have convinced himself that they were outside. He could barely see the uneven rock walls through the dense trunks and branches. There was a little clearing at the center of the room, and beside it was a flowing stream that fed into a large pond. There were a few water weeds floating on its surface, a splash disturbing the tranquility as what must have been a frog leapt inside at their approach.

Asteria set down her satchel and began to unpack a tightly-rolled animal pelt, laying it out on the ground like a blanket. The environment inside the labyrinth was humid, making the stone walls and the grass perpetually wet. Leandros had his cloak, which he shrugged off, using it in much the same way. The wool would insulate him from the damp, though it wasn’t especially cold here. Maybe the warmth from the day’s sunlight still lingered. Even so, his guide was already searching for dry wood to make a campfire. When she had collected enough, she dug a pit in the soil using her hoof, then dropped the sticks inside. Rather than use the lantern’s Promethean flame, she drew two pieces of flint from one of her pouches. Starting fires that could not be quenched was probably not something that she did often.