The proprietor snatched up the coin. ‘Talk to Antigonos, he might be foolish enough to take you.’ He nodded at a bald, middle-aged fellow with a complexion like cracked leather, sat amongst the group of men. ‘But no good will come of it,’ he muttered as he shuffled away.
Danae sighed, then drained her cup. It seemed a swift return to Hylas was not to be. Summoning her mettle, she approached the group.
‘Good afternoon, gentlemen. May the Twelve see you and know you.’
They blinked, staring at her as though she were a statue that had just come to life, until they remembered themselves and touched their foreheads in the sacred gesture.
‘You looking for someone?’ asked a man with dark hair and bloodshot eyes.
Danae addressed the man the barkeep had pointed out. ‘Are you Antigonos?’
His chest swelled. ‘Who wants to know?’ Like the barkeep, his accent had the broad resonance of the south.
‘I’m told you can take me …’ she lowered her voice, ‘to the place beneath.’
The kapeleion fell silent. Danae glanced behind her to see the musician clutching his kithara, eyes stretched wide. The emerald-cloaked stranger had grown so still, they could have been cast from Taenarum’s green marble.
‘You don’t know what you’re asking …’ Antigonos growled.
‘I know exactly what I’m asking.’ She drew herself up, wishing she still had her black seer’s robe. It was much easier to command respect when people believed she had the power of the gods behind her. ‘I’ll make it worth your while if you show me.’ She flashed her purse beneath the navy folds of her dress, hoping the men couldn’t tell how empty it was.
Another of the group, a younger man with sandy hair, pale cheeks and watery blue eyes, placed a hand on Antigonos’ arm. ‘No one ever comes back from that place. I’ve heard the ghosts of all those who died haunt the tunnels. Their tears streak down the walls, and if you touch them, you lose your mind, and there are disembodied red eyes that follow anyone who –’
‘Oh, hush, Georgios,’ an older man beside the lad knocked him over the head, ‘you’ve been paying too much heed to your grandma’s tales.’
‘Tell me where the entrance is, and I will go alone.’
Antigonos barked out a laugh and licked his teeth, eyes raking over Danae. ‘You’ll die down there without a guide, girl.’
‘I will have to risk it, if none of you are brave enough to take me.’
Antigonos bristled. ‘You calling me a coward?’
Danae shrugged. ‘I am not the one who is afraid.’
The men looked to Antigonos. He ground his teeth then said, ‘Fine, I’ll show you the way. But it will cost you.’
‘I can pay.’
Antigonos sat back and folded his arms. ‘How much?’
‘Three drachmas.’
With the swiftness of someone with far less wine inside him, Antigonos lunged forward and grabbed her purse. He scattered her remaining obols on the table.
‘Liar.’
Danae remained still as the man rose from his seat and drew so close she could smell the fish and fermented grapes on his breath.
‘Tell you what, I’m in a charitable mood. So, I’ll let you pay another way.’ He slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her towards him.
Her body tensed beneath his touch, but before he could strengthen his grip, she punched him in the chest, engorging the force of the blow with a small clutch of life-threads. Antigonos flew back, crashing through the table, scattering his companions and smacking into the wall beyond. He slid down the stone, leaving a floor-to-ceiling crack in his wake.
Her rage died as quickly as it had flared. She had used too much of her power. No mortal save Heracles could send a man flying like that with a single blow.
‘What … a-are you?’ stammered the barkeep, a stool held out in front of him like a shield.
Danae backed away. She was such a fool. It would only be a matter of time before someone told a local priestess what they had seen. Then the Twelve would find her once more, and she would never discover what had happened to her sister.
