Kushiel's Chosen

and truly betwixt them, the caves that riddled the horns of the harbor, layer upon stony layer, rising above us.
    Then I did, and knew it was from thence that the sound of beating gongs came, and my hair rose at the nape of my neck as we glided below the caves. This was no ordinary port. We had crossed the threshold of a sacred place. So did we enter the harbor of the Temenos.

FIFTY-EIGHT
    1 here were children on the beach; I had not expected that.
    They greeted our arrival with eager cries, swooping like gulls over the gritty white sands as our ship ran aground in shallow water. Bemused, Tormos cast a line ashore, and a full dozen eager hands grasped it, children setting their backs to it with a will, hauling our vessel nearer to shore. It was a lucky thing the Illyrian ships had such a shallow draught, that we were able to disembark and splash our way ashore. Kazan came without assistance, and it seemed to me that there was an alertness in his face for the first time since Epidauro.
    The sound of bronze gongs had ceased, and left in its wake a profound silence.
    Salt-stained and aching and unsteady on my legs, I waited with the others, standing on the beach and gazing at steps carved into the living rock, easing down toward the sea.
    'Twould be a party of guards would meet us, I thought; one expects such a thing, landing uninvited in a foreign harbor. Instead, there came a single man, unarmed, escorted by a retinue of seven youths and seven maidens. He was of middle years, dark and bearded, with a diadem of ribbons bound around his curly hair, wearing rich robes encrusted two hand-spans deep with embroidery. One of the youths held a parasol above his head, and tasseled pearls hung from its spokes, glimmering in the sun.
    "Welcome, strangers," he said in a sonorous voice, giving us greeting in Hellene. "I am Oeneus Asterius, Híerophant of the Temenos. You have passed by the wide harbors and the company of men to enter here. Mother Dia grant you welcome. Who is it among you that comes to be cleansed?"
    I daresay we gaped foolishly enough; of our number, only Glaukos and I understood his Hellene speech, and neither of us knew what he meant by it.
    Thus it was doubly startling when Kazan stepped forward, clear-eyed and willful.
    "I am Kazan Atrabiades of Epidauro," he announced in Illyrian. "I come bearing blood-guilt for the death of my brother."
    The Hierophant gazed at him with deepset eyes and nodded, then turned to one of the maidens. "Iole, fetch Mezentius, who speaks the Illyrian tongue."
    I glanced at Glaukos, who opened and closed his mouth helplessly, shocked speechless. "My lord Hierophant," I said in Hellene, pushing my damp, salt-stiffened hair back from my face and wracking my brain for the proper words. "I speak Illyrian, a little. So does this man, Glaukos of Tiber-ium," I added, nodding at him. "And my lord Atrabiades speaks Caerdicci, as well. We have had a dire journey, my lord, and it is a tale long in the telling. If you will offer us your hospitality, we can recompense you in gold."
    'Twas true, too, for ragged though we were, we had in our hold half the remaining ransom; seven thousand five hundred D'Angeline ducats in gold. The Hierophant looked at me with his unblinking gaze, the way a hawk will, or a wolf, then turned to Kazan and addressed him in Caerdicci. His words came a bit more haltingly, but no less resonant. "You understand, then, where you have come?"
    "Yes, son of Minos." Kazan bowed his head. "I understand, I."
    Glaukos was translating for the rest of the crew, recovered enough to accomplish that much. I stared at Kazan, and something stirred in my memory; I heard again Thelesis de Mornay's voice. The Hellenes claim the descendents of the House of Minos have the ability to cleanse a man of a blood-curse; it is a gift of Zagreus. "Kazan," I said softly. "Are you certain?" For I remembered too what she had said afterward. I have heard, too, that few mortals can bear the process at less than the cost of their wits.
    "Yes, Phèdre." He spoke calmly, a thinking presence restored to his features. "I am certain, I."
    "Phaedra." The Hierophant drew out the word, tasting it in his mouth. "Ah. You bear..."
    "... an ill-luck name," I finished for him wearily. "Yes, my lord, I know the history of your house, and the origins of my namesake. Well and so, Kazan Atrabiades has come for atonement; the rest of us are parched and hungry and tired to the bone, and there are wounded aboard the ship.