Acrid vapors rising from cracks in the ancient stone floor mingled with the heavy scent of burning laurel leaves, and Galen, who had been kneeling for hours, felt his eyelids grow heavy. He drew a deep breath, though it made him light-headed, and fought to stay awake. If he fell asleep, Thena would punish him. If he looked at his captors before they spoke to him, Thena would punish him. So he kept his eyes fixed on the ground.
But he could still hear. Now he listened closely to the murmured conversation on the far side of the chamber.
The Oracle perched on a three-legged stool, leaning toward two men. One was very fat, with small, vicious eyes and a helmet that squished his face like a sausage. The other wore a scarlet cloak and had dark hair swept back from his high forehead like a raven’s wings. They were talking about Galen.
“Have you determined the nature of the block?” asked the man in the cloak. “Is it real or is he faking it?”
“I think it’s real,” the Oracle replied slowly. “He seems genuinely unaware of it.”
For the past two days, she had asked him questions. About his parents and his abilities, and their abilities. She seemed to believe he had some kind of extraordinary power. Again and again, he had told her he didn’t. That in fact, the opposite was true. She had never raised her voice, but her hatred was palpable.
Thena had aided her in the questioning. He felt her smugness through the vile collar around his throat. She believed she’d brought a great prize to the Pythia. The woman was mad. Some horrible mistake had been made. But now, kneeling in this inner sanctum deep beneath the Acropolis, Galen felt a new sense of purpose. He would find a way to kill the Pythia, or die himself in the attempt.
“What do you intend?” the man in the red cloak asked.
“I cannot test him yet because he cannot be trusted with the power. He will have to be broken first, Archon. Turned to our cause.”
“With all respect,” the fat man said, “you’d best do it quickly, Oracle. I sent four wind ships to scout the Umbra. They spotted a large force of daēvas massing at the edge of the forest. They’ll be here in a matter of days. The one who escaped must have sounded the alarm.”
Galen could hear the fear in his voice. The Danai were coming! For Rafel and Ysabel, if not for him. Assuming they were still alive. He hadn’t seen either since he was collared. But the clan had found out somehow. Galen bit his lip to keep from whooping with joy. His grandmother Tethys would see Delphi leveled to the last stone—and the Pythia whipped naked and howling into the desert.
“It is no more than I expected, Polemarch,” she was saying. “Leave them to me. But I agree it would be best to break this one without delay. It’s usually a prolonged process, but there are ways to accelerate it. Thena, who wears his bracelet, has proven herself quite adept at—”
The Oracle twisted around as the door to the chamber flew open. Startled, Galen looked up. He heard Thena’s indrawn hiss of air. A man strode inside, his mud-covered boots leaving streaks of dirt on the floor. He had coppery hair and a glower on his face.
“How dare you?” the Polemarch demanded, purple suffusing his jowls. “There are no public audiences today!” He sneered at the man’s dusty traveling cloak. “If you’re looking for a bowl of gruel, you’ll find it in the dungeons.” He turned to the Pythia and adopted a groveling tone. “When I discover which of the Shields allowed this filthy—”
The man raised a hand. Blue flames shot from the Polemarch’s eyes and mouth and the stink of burning flesh filled the chamber. The inferno devoured him so quickly and thoroughly, he didn’t even have time to scream. Two seconds later, a helmet with a smoking horsehair crest bounced off the stone and rolled away. The rest was a greasy smear.
The Archon swayed on his feet. Thena gave a shriek. Galen frantically probed the collar with his mind, hoping she might release his power, but met a wall. He’d seen fire dancing from the torches lining the temple’s corridors—the first time he’d ever encountered the forbidden fourth element—but this was something else. He had no doubt the man could burn them all up in a single instant.
The Oracle showed no sign of emotion as the man approached her. He stopped a few paces from the tripod and the two stared at each other for a long moment.
“That was my general you just immolated,” she said in an annoyed tone.
“He should have guarded his tongue.”
They spoke as if no one else existed.
“Where’s the girl you promised me?”
“I don’t have her.”
“Then it’s a good thing I caught another.” She pointed at Galen. “He is the Danai talisman.”
“And can he use his power?”
She frowned. “Not yet.”
The man started to laugh then, and seemed unable to stop. The Oracle’s lips thinned as she beckoned to the Archon and Thena, who skirted the remains of the Polemarch and crept forward on unsteady legs.
“Well,” she said. Her slender fingers touched the serpent brooch at her shoulder and her hair, which had been a lustrous, silken black, changed to the deep, violent red of a poppy.
“I am still the Oracle of Delphi,” she intoned, letting small flames writhe over her fingertips. “The Sun God lives in me. I speak for him.” Her voice lowered to a gentle murmur. “Do either of you doubt me? If there are objections, I would hear them now.”
The silence in the chamber was absolute. The Archon fell to his knees and kissed the hem of her gown with bloodless lips. After a moment, Thena did the same, but Galen felt her shock and confusion. It mirrored his own. What were these creatures?
“Good.” The Pythia smiled, though it soured when her gaze fell on the stranger. He’d finally mastered himself, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes with a corner of his cloak.
“You make a fool of yourself, Nicodemus,” she said coldly.
“I’m sorry.” He gave a last rueful chuckle. “It’s just…I’ll try to put it succinctly. That daēva over there?” He pointed at Galen, who tried not to shrink beneath the man’s gaze. “He won’t do you a lick of good. Not without the girl who broke your gate.” Laughter threatened again, but he managed to suppress it. “The one who was just here a few weeks ago. The one you wanted me to kill.”
The Pythia’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”
Nicodemus smiled but it was a grim thing, and Galen realized his amusement masked a deep, implacable rage.
“She broke the Marakai girl’s block,” he said. “She’s the fourth talisman.”