"Douglass, Sara - Troy Game 1 - Hades' Daughter (V.92) (" - читать интересную книгу автора (Douglass Sara)

Above them the clouds roiled, thick and black, and lightning arced down to strike in the low hills of the island.
'What think you, Theseus?" she suddenly yelled, making him flinch. "What think you? No one can afford to betray the Mistress of the Labyrinth!"
'No?" he said, meeting her furious eyes evenly. "Are you that sure of your power?"
'Leave me here and you doom your entire world. Throw me aside for my sluttish sister and what you think her womb can give you and you and your kind willЧ"
He hit her cheek, not hard, but enough to snap off the flow of her words. "And who was it showed Phaedre the art of sluttishness, Ariadne?"
Stricken with such cruelty, Ariadne could find no words to answer.
Theseus nodded. "You have served your purpose," he said.
He focused on something behind her, and Ariadne turned her head very slightly.
Villagers were walking slowly down the path to the beach, their eyes cast anxiously at the goddamned skies above them.
'They will care for you and your daughter," Theseus said, and turned to go.
'I have served my purpose, Theseus?" Ariadne said. "You have no idea what my purpose is, and whether it is served outЕ or only just beginning. Here. In this sand. In this betrayal."
His shoulders stiffened, and his step hesitated, but then Theseus was gone, striding down the beach to the waiting boat.
The sky roared, and the clouds opened, drenching Ariadne as she watched her lover desert her.
She turned her face upward, and shook a fist at the sky and the gods laughing merrily behind it.
'No one abandons the Mistress of the Labyrinth!" she hissed. "Not you, nor any part of your world!"
She dropped her face. Theseus was in the boat now, standing in its stem, his gaze set toward the ship where awaited Ariadne's sister.
'And not you, nor any part of your world, either," she whispered through clenched teeth. "No one abandons me, and thinks that in so doing they can ignore the Game. You think that the Game will protect you."
She hissed, demented with love and betrayal.
'But you forget that it is 7 who controls the Game."

TWO Death came for Ariadne during the final stages of a labor that had stretched over three grueling, pain-filled days and nights.
She felt the Death Crone's gentle hand on her shoulder as she squatted on her birthing mat, her sweat-drenched face clenched in agony, the village midwives squabbling in a huddle on the far side of the dim, overheated room.
'They have decided to cut the child from you," the Crone said, her voice low and melodious, a comforting counterpoint to her words. "They think that Theseus, not wanting you, will nevertheless be grateful for his child. See, now they hand about knives, trying to decide which would be the sharpest. The fastest."
'No!" Ariadne growled, twisting her head to stare at the Crone who now stood so close to her shoulder. "No. I will not."
'You must," said the Crone. "It is your time."
'And I say it is not," Ariadne said, screwing up her face and moaning as another crippling contraction gripped her.
'You mustЧ" the Crone said again, but stopped as Ariadne half turned and gripped the death's claw resting on her shoulder.
'I will make a bargain," Ariadne said. She glanced at the huddle of mid-wives. They were bent into a close circle, their attention all on the four or five knives they passed between themselves. First this one was held up to catch the flickering light from the single oil lamp in the room, now that, as they assessed each blade's cutting edge for its worth.
Being simple women, untutored in the mysteries, they were unaware that the Death Crone stood so close among them, nor that Ariadne conversed with her.
'A bargain?" said the Crone. "But I want you. You. What could you give me to assuage my grief at leaving you behind?"
'I think we can come to a most singular arrangement," Ariadne said, her words jerking out in her agony. "I can make you the best proposition you've had in aeons."
The Crone was silent a long moment, her bright eyes resting unblinking on Ariadne as the woman twisted and moaned once more.
'I shall want far more than just 'a singular arrangement,'" the Crone said. "Far more. What can you give me, Ariadne, Mistress of the Labyrinth?"
The midwives had selected their knife now, and one of them, a woman called Meriam, had drawn out a whetstone and was sharpening the blade with long, deliberate strokes.
The frightful sound of metal against stone grated about the chamber, and Ariadne's eyes glinted.
She spoke, very low and very fast, and the Crone gave a great gasp and stood back. "You would go that far?" she hissed.
'Will you not accept my bargain?" Ariadne said.
'Oh, aye, I accept. But you will destroy yourself, surely, along withЧ
'You will have me one day, Crone, but it shall be on my terms, not yours. But, if you want what I offer, then I beg two favors from you."
The Crone laughed shortly. "And I thought you were to be doing all the giving."
'I will need to see Asterion."
"Asterion? The brother you helped murder? You would dare?"
'Aye. I dare. Tell me, is he in Hades' realm?"
'Nay. Hades would not have him. You know this." The Crone paused, her eyes on the midwives who were now slowly rising, their voices murmuring bitterly about the effort this Ariadne put them to. "Very well," said the Crone. "I agree. I can send Asterion to you. And the second favor?"
'Push this child from my body that I may live long enough to play my part in this our arrangement."
'As you wish, Ariadne. But do not fail in your part of our agreement. I would be most disappointed should youЧ
'I will not fail. Now, push this child from meЕ ah!"
The midwives stepped close to the straining woman on the birthing mat, Meriam at their fore, a large knife in her hand.
But as Meriam leaned down to push Ariadne to her back, the better to expose her huge belly to the knife, Ariadne screamed, and there was a rush of bloodstained fluid between her legs, and then the baby, hitherto unshiftable, slithered free.
Meriam stopped dead, her mouth hanging open.