Grigoris stared at Jones and slowly nodded. When he spoke, it was without conviction. "I understand.
We are here, and that will be enough."
Grigoris was repeating Panos's own words. But now Panos wasn't so sure they were true.
Doumas followed the king's entourage through the ruins as Belecamus alternated between gloating about her days as Delphi's chief archaeologist and pointing out the dam ages created by the earthquake. Maybe no one else thought she was gloating, but her hubris was obvious to him. He was well aware of the extent of her work, and the limits of it. Nothing would please him more than seeing her leave Delphi and never return, at least not while he was in charge of the ruins.
This would definitely not be the way he would present Delphi to the king. What the hell did Mandraki know? There was no reason for him to be at the king's side. Then there was Jones. Probably the only reason he was still alive was that the king had requested his attendance, and Belecamus didn't want anyone asking questions.
But he looked like a lunatic. The pants he wore were too short, and the shirt too baggy. His shoes were covered with mud. If it had been any other place than the ruins, he wouldn't be allowed near the king. And it wasn't only his clothes. He dragged along as if he hadn't slept for days. What the hell had he been doing since he'd run off with Doumas's carriage?
As they approached the temple, Belecamus was talking about the crevice. She was making much of the fact that the vapors were similar to the historical accounts of the mephitic vapors of Apollo's Oracle. She even tossed in a mythological reference calling the vapors ichor, the life-force of the gods. Doumas almost laughed. He'd never
heard her speak of Delphi in such romantic terms. Must be Jones's influence, he thought.
"And what effects do these vapors have on someone who inhales them?" the king inquired as he limped ahead.
"All we can say for certain is that they don't seem to cause any ill effects. There may be a feeling of well-being, but that could just be psychological. However, I should say that Mr. Jones has other ideas, which he can tell you about later, if you're interested. He seems to think they have a healing effect."
Very clever, Doumas thought. She was overlooking what had happened to her, probably because she thought it would sound too unprofessional to say that she had been overcome by the vapors and had acted oddly for a couple of days. She hadn't even admitted that she had inhaled them herself. But what was this about Jones?
One thing seemed certain now: she wasn't about to say she was Pythia. So Panos had lost. She wasn't going to cooperate as he'd hoped. Why would she? The stonema son had been a fool to think she would.
"When do these vapors rise?" the king asked. "They seem to come and go irregularly. Wouldn't you say, Stephanos?"
Now why had she said that, and placed him in the position of agreeing with a lie? He cleared his throat.
"Well, they seem to come less and less often with each succeeding day."
The next one was due anytime; she must know it. But maybe in all the distraction with the king's visit, she'd forgotten. He wondered if he should mention it. But what if he was wrong? The king would think he was a fool. He might even lose his position here if the king decided to wait for the vapors and nothing happened. No, he couldn't take any chances.
Doumas moved closer to Belecamus as she led the way
past the tilting columns of the temple. When he got a chance, he'd mention the timing of the vapors, and let her handle it. But she seemed anxious to keep moving and told the king that he could see the crevice from atop the mound.
"Mr. Jones, why don't you tell his Highness about your experience?" Belecamus said as she took the king's arm, and guided him up the mound. "You know more about it than anyone else."
Incredible, Doumas thought. First, the colonel guiding the way, now Jones, who wasn't any more qualified, was going to take over. He didn't want any part of it. Reluctantly, he trailed after the others, stopping about halfway up the mound near the king's two aides.
As the king peered into the crevice, Jones talked about his fall. He described the tablet, and to Doumas'
surprise gave an accurate account of what it had said. The king, however, didn't seem very interested. He listened as Jones described his fall onto a ledge, then interrupted and ask how the vapors had affected him.
"I think the vapors have a healing effect," Indy said, but he didn't sound very convinced himself. "You see, I was injured in my fall, but I recovered very rapidly."
"And no ill effects?"
Jones shook his head.
He didn't look much better, Doumas thought.
"I would like to test these vapors myself sometime," the king said.
Not if they caused you to act like Belecamus, Doumas thought. He took a couple of steps forward, suddenly realizing that Belecamus was setting something up. The king was going to see the vapors, and maybe inhale them.
Now Belecamus was talking about the tablet and the return of the oracle. "In fact, some villagers say there's an
old prophecy about Pythia returning after an earthquake and around the time the king arrives."
The king smiled. "Is that so?"
Doumas sucked in his breath as he realized he'd been mistaken. She was going to do it.
Just then, as if their speaking of the vapors had called them up, Doumas heard the telltale rumble and hissing. The gases started rising. She'd planned it this way. Maybe she was Pythia. But then she stepped down off the top of the mound as the vapors covered their ankles. Mandraki moved ahead of her, and blocked the two aides from reaching the king.
"Let them be," he ordered.
"Your Highness," one of the aides called out as the vapors billowed around the king's chest and shoulders. But the king ignored him. Belecamus abruptly turned away from Mandraki and disappeared into the vapors with the king and Jones as the gases completely engulfed them. It was all happening so fast that Doumas hardly noticed that Panos and Grigoris were among them.
Suddenly, chaos reigned in the temple. Panos charged up the mound toward them, but Mandraki shoved him back down. The two aides were frantic, clawing their way toward the king. Mandraki struggled to contain them,.but just then Grigoris barreled into the colonel.
Again, Panos charged up the mound and this time vanished into the vapors. Mandraki had his hands full with Grigoris and the aides and didn't see what was happening. Doumas watched in stunned disbelief until a scream that was more animal than human pierced the air. Shivers radiated up his spine. He knew that Belecamus was transforming into Pythia. It was happening, and just the way Panos had planned it. He heard Panos's voice proclaiming Pythia's presence.
No. He had to stop them. He was the one who must have the power, not Panos. He struggled up the mound,
stumbled, and slipped backwards. He could hear Dorian babbling, and the king's voice. He crawled ahead, climbed to his feet, and hurled himself into the vapors at the spot where Panos had disappeared.
The cloud of vapors shut out the others. The commotion beyond the vapors seemed distant, unimportant.
Even the king, who stood within Indy's reach, appeared ghostlike, a dim silhouette. But he could hear him filling his lungs with great breathfuls of the vapors.
"Sir. Your Highness." Was that how he should address him? The king ignored him. "Excuse me, Your Highness." He had to tell him about the danger. But how was he going to save Shannon and Conrad, and himself? Their lives were in danger no matter what happened to the king.
"My hip is already healing." Jubilance riddled the king's voice. "This place is a miracle."
Before Indy could say anything further, another figure swirled through the vapors. It was Dorian. Her hair was standing on end as she tossed her head spasmodically from side to side. Spittle ran down her jaw. Her eyes threatened to burst from their sockets. She screamed.