Carter shook her head. “I already told you—”
“I’m going with them,” Lazarus said in his customary low rumble.
She gaped at him. The uncharacteristic interruption was almost as astonishing as the declaration itself. “You…ah…” She blinked, surprised to find moisture beading along the edges of her eyelids. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”
“They have Fiona,” he said. His tone was quiet, as it always was, and yet she could hear a hint of the old anger bubbling up. “She’s just a kid.”
In all their months together, he had never once expressed even a hint of a desire to leave her side. She had always known that he might someday feel the urge to return to his former life, and on an intellectual level she had thought she had come to terms with that, but now that she was actually confronted with it, she felt blindsided.
He’s choosing them over me.
As the thought screamed through her head, it left a trail of guilt.
In all their months together, he had never once thought of anything but her happiness. He had stayed with her, supported her, traveled from one end of the continent to the other because it was what she wanted, and he never once complained. Never once had he demanded anything for himself.
Until now.
Yet, even that wasn’t quite the truth. He was not abandoning her to pursue some personal desire. Someone needed his help.
His motives were no more selfish than her own.
There was a faint hiss from the vent hood as the blackened tips of the vine shoots, dried out after several minutes of close proximity to the burner’s flame, finally ignited. She watched them burn for a moment before turning back to Pierce. “Why did Van Der Hausen turn this thing loose here? Was that Cerberus’s idea?”
“This is just a guess, but I’d say it was meant as a test. Proof of concept.”
“And if a few villagers die in the bush? It’s Africa. Who cares?” She took a breath, trying to forge her anger into something useful. “Somebody needs to answer for this.” She turned to Lazarus. “All right. Count me in.”
26
Fiona sat on the bed, hugging her knees to her chest. It was the only thing she could do to keep herself from pacing like a caged animal.
That was exactly what she felt like.
She knew pacing was a bad idea. She hadn’t eaten anything in at least twelve hours, and her blood sugar was dangerously low. Any physical activity at this point would only make things worse. She wished there was a way to shut her brain off as well, and not just because being trapped in the little room was driving her crazy. The human central nervous system used twice as much glucose as the rest of the body. She was already running on fumes, and there was nothing she could do about it.
“Fiona? Are you there?”
She looked up to find Gallo looking down at her from the television screen. “Aunt Gus! Are you okay?”
“For now. How are you doing?”
“Not so good.”
Gallo stared at her for a moment then turned to someone standing out of view. “Has she had anything to eat? You can’t starve her. She’s a diabetic.”
“I’ll make sure she gets some food straightaway,” came the answer.
Fiona instantly recognized the voice: Kenner. “Aunt Gus, don’t tell me you’re helping that piece of—”
Gallo cut her off. “I’ll do whatever I have to do, to keep you safe. That’s what your uncle would want.”
Fiona knew she was right. In fact, given the way she felt right now, she was not inclined to put up much of a fight. She hugged her knees tighter. Before either she or Gallo could say anything more, the door to her room swung open and an unseen hand slid a tray inside. She jumped off the bed and made a dash for the door, but it closed before she could reach it. Her failure was mitigated somewhat by the delivery she had just received. The tray contained a plastic cup of orange juice, along with a bowl of breakfast cereal and a glass of milk.
Better than nothing, she thought, snatching up the orange juice and downing it in a single gulp. It occurred to her, too late to do anything about it, that the drink might be drugged or poisoned, but then if her captors had wanted to hurt her, there would be no need for trickery.
“Fiona, I need your help with a translation,” Gallo said. “You were right about Queen Hippolyte’s belt. There was something on it. A map. And something that looks to me like Phaistos glyphs. Do you think you could translate them for me?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know how to read Phaistos script. But even if I could read it, I wouldn’t. Not for him.”
“Fiona!” Gallo’s voice was so sharp, the speaker on the television monitor crackled for a second. “Your uncle put you in my care, and you need to trust me. You will do what I tell you. Do you understand?”
Fiona glowered at the screen. Yet, there was something very odd about Gallo’s behavior. She was not the type to simply roll over and surrender at the first sign of trouble.
“Show her the belt,” Gallo told Kenner.
The image on the screen changed to show the object she had only glimpsed in the Labyrinth: Queen Hippolyte’s battle girdle. Despite herself, she found her gaze drawn to the intricately tooled leather. Her eyes went wide when she realized what she was seeing. “The Amazons knew about the Americas? That’s amazing.”
She studied it, trying to find some flaw, but the map was astonishingly accurate. Finally, she turned her attention to the Phaistos characters that bordered the image. That was when she saw the familiar but equally incomprehensible script of the Mother Tongue.
“I just need you to help with the Phaistos script,” Gallo was saying. “That’s all. You have to trust me, Fiona.”
Fiona now understood what the woman was trying to tell her. Just the Phaistos script. Don’t let them know about the Mother Tongue.
She could do that.
Still, if she capitulated too quickly, Kenner might suspect that they were not being truthful. She squared her shoulders. “Will you let us go if we help you?”
The image shifted again, this time revealing Kenner’s earnest face. “My dear, if it was up to me, I’d let you walk out the door now. But I can promise you that your cooperation will be rewarded.”
“You tried to kill us in Crete,” Fiona said, holding back none of the anger that memory evoked. “Why should I believe anything you say?”
Kenner ducked his head guiltily. “I didn’t want that to happen. I’m so sorry. And I’m very pleased that you made it out of there.”
Fiona considered a very un-ladylike reply, but decided she had already pushed back hard enough.
“I have convinced Mr. Tyndareus that you are much more useful as an ally than as an enemy,” Kenner finished.
Fiona did not miss the implicit threat. “Fine. Show it to me again.”
The picture of the belt returned to the screen, and this time Fiona stared at it more closely, memorizing every detail. She was feeling better now, thinking more clearly, and not just because the juice had given her a dose of fructose. She was doing something now, and even though she was a long way from any kind of escape plan, it was a step in the right direction. She recalled what Pierce had told her in the Labyrinth. Where there’s life, there’s hope.
“Okay, what is it you want to know?”
Gallo’s voice came over the speaker. “We are trying to determine where Queen Hippolyte’s city was. We have a rough idea, but we need to narrow down the search area. We’re hoping there’s a clue in the Phaistos writing on the border.”