Indy stared at the bodies sprawled across the mound. "Why would he want to kill you?"
"Plenty of reasons. Jealousy mainly. Panos told him about us. But he was angry that the king got away and he blamed me."
He watched her closely. There was no sign of any trance-induced aberrations in her features. She was calm, and actually looked relieved after killing her long-standing lover. The gun dangled loosely in her hand. He hoped she was going to drop it, because he was going to pounce on it when she did.
His eyes slid to Shannon and Conrad who were standing to one side of him. They were as nervous now as when he'd arrived.
Dorian sensed their unease. "Don't look at me like I'm some kind of madwoman. You're all alive because of me."
"What are you going to do now?" Conrad asked, taking a step closer to her.
She smiled amiably. "I know exactly what I'm going to do, and you three are going to help me."
Conrad moved another pace closer, and held out his
hand. "That's good, Dorian. I'll take the gun. You don't need it anymore."
Her body tensed and she pointed the revolver at Conrad. "Don't patronize me, Professor. I know what I'm doing. Sit down, all three of you. I'm going to give you a little history lesson about Delphi. You like history, don't you, Professor?"
She grinned at him, and for an instant Indy recognized the expression he'd seen on her face when she was Pythia. He wondered about that, and sat down with the others as she'd ordered.
"In ancient times, Delphi was like a magnet that drew people from around the Mediterranean," she began.
This was madness. Three bodies were lying behind her, and she was lecturing as if she were in class at the Sorbonne. Indy was tempted to tell her to shut up, but he was certain she could shoot him with as much ease as she had killed Mandraki.
"It was not only the mephitic gases that were involved in Pythia's power, but also the Omphalos, a mysterious black cone-shaped stone." Dorian looked over her audi ence. "It's down there in the crevice within our reach. Indy found it, and I want it."
"How are we going to get it?" Shannon asked, playing the role of interested student.
"You and the professor are going to lower your friend on a rope. He's going to get a chance to improve his archaeo logical skills, and recover one of the most valuable artifacts of all time."
She turned to Indy. "Do you agree to do it?" As if he had a choice, he thought. "I don't see any rope."
"You're going to get it. Go to the workshop. You'll find a rope and my excavating tools on the table. And hurry." Then her voice toughened. "But if you're not back in fifteen minutes, your friends will be joining the others. Do you understand?"
"You don't have to threaten me, Dorian."
She smiled and her features softened. "I like you, Indy. I'm sorry I have to do it this way. But I have no choice. Without the gun, I couldn't count on your cooperation."
Indy quickly descended the mound, passing the bodies of Panos, Grigoris, and Mandraki. He rushed across the ruins to the wooded trail that led to the workshop. He had to tell someone what had happened, but he didn't have time to go to the village or anywhere else. As it was, he had to hurry in order to retrieve the equipment and get back in time.
He found the same rope that had been used to pull him from the hole neatly coiled on the table. Next to it was Dorian's knapsack and her excavating tools. From the way they were laid out, he wondered if she had planned the whole thing. If that were the case, she must also have planned to kill Mandraki. The woman was truly the Ice Queen, after all—a cold-blooded, cold-hearted killer.
He glanced around the workshop. Everything else looked the same as when he'd last seen it. He walked over to Dorian's locker, and found the schedule of risings still taped to the back wall. The next one was due at 3:49 p.m. There should be plenty of time to get the Omphalos, or whatever it was, out of the hole. But the vapors were more of an annoyance than anything else to Indy. He'd breathed the so-called mephitic gases a couple of times now and had never experienced anything unusual. It was like walking in fog, nothing more.
The king had wanted to believe so badly in their healing properties that the pain in his hip probably did subside for awhile. Indy would be surprised if the pain wasn't back. So why was Dorian's reaction to the vapors so dramatically different from his own and everyone else's? What made her Pythia, but not anyone else?
He was about to close the locker door when he spotted something familiar on the top shelf. He reached up and grabbed his whip. Maybe she considered it a memento from another graduate-student lover. But this graduate student had a big advantage. He knew about the others, and of their demise.
He hitched the whip on his belt and as he left the workshop, he slung the pack over one shoulder and the rope over the other. He'd taken only a step out the door when he saw two men approaching on horseback. He was in luck. He'd tell them to get help. As they moved closer, though, his hope faded as rapidly as light at the end of the day. Soldiers.
He lowered his head, pulled his hat down low, and walked quickly away. But just as he reached the beginning of the trail to the ruins one of the men called out to him. "You there. Have you seen Colonel Mandraki?"
He shook his head, and kept walking.
"Let's check the ruins," the soldier said, and Indy recognized his voice. The same bastard who had jumped him outside the cave.
"Hey, wait a minute. Isn't that the guy we were guarding?" the other said.
Indy kept moving, hoping the soldiers would start an other argument. As the trail curved and he moved out of sight, he broke into a run. But he'd gone only a dozen yards before he heard the thunder of horses behind him.
He leaped off the trail, dropped the rope and knapsack and unhitched his whip. As the first rider neared him, he snapped it with a swift, smooth swing. The whip uncoiled in an elliptical arc, and snared the soldier by the neck. With a quick jerk, he yanked him to the ground. The second horse reared to avoid the soldier in its path, and threw its rider.
Indy snatched up a rifle that had fallen at his feet, and
aimed it at the soldiers. "On your feet. Get against that tree." They did as he said, but as he leaned over to pick up the coil of rope, one of the men lunged at him. Indy swung the butt of the rifle around and cracked it against the side of his head. The soldier took two stuttering steps, tottered, then dropped to his knees, and fell over.
The other soldier, meanwhile, slipped a hand into his boot and pulled a knife. With a smooth motion, he hurled it from ankle level. Indy ducked and the knife stuck into the trunk of a tree barely an inch from his head. He glanced at the blade, then back at the soldier. The man stared at him, uncertain what to do. Then, deciding that retreat was the best idea, he turned and ran.
But Indy was ready for him. He'd gone only a couple of steps before the whip unfurled and caught him around the ankles. He reeled him in like a fish, but his "catch" turned on him. He leaped up, threw a punch that glanced off Indy's shoulder. Indy landed one of his own solidly against the man's jaw. The soldier fell backwards, struck his head against a tree trunk, and was out cold.
Indy found a length of rope in the saddlebag of one of the horses. He tied the rope around the chest of one of the soldiers, looped it over a thick branch, then pulled the man to his feet as he tied the other end around his partner. When he was finished both men were seated back to back, and held up by the rope and branch. "I'd stick around and chat, fellows, but I'm short on time."
With that he hooked his whip back on his belt, grabbed the knapsack, rope, and rifle, and mounted one of the horses. But he was loaded down with too much gear, and tumbled out of the saddle. He glared at the groggy soldiers as he dusted himself off.