Keepers of the Labyrinth (4 page)

Lil looked up at the stained-glass window and nodded. She did remember it from when they had studied mythology in elementary school. Everyone knew the story of Daedalus and Icarus.

“Oh yeah,” Sydney said. “I read about them in the brochure, too. They were in the ‘mystery and lore of Crete' section.”

“You've not read the
Metamorphos
es
?” Charlie asked.

Sydney raised an eyebrow and pushed her door open. “Have you read
A Brief Histor
y of Time
?”

“No,” Charlie said, “but—I thought you would have read—”

“I mostly stick to applicable reading,” Sydney said matter-of-factly.

Lil gave Charlie a glance as she set the suitcase down next to Sydney. Charlie didn't seem to be very offended by Sydney's abrupt way of talking. Instead she smiled and fired back, “One might argue that they are both applicable, in separate disciplines.”

Sydney shrugged. “Anyway, thanks,” she said to Lil, accepting the suitcase and turning back to her door.

“No problem,” Lil said as she grasped her key. Sydney was in 3D, so that would mean that 4D was directly opposite. Lil turned to place her key in the lock and froze.

A chill reached from the stone floor, up her legs, and curled around her shoulders. The stained-glass window above her door was different. She shook her head and looked again.

“Ah, you have the story of Ariadne and Theseus,” Charlie piped up next to her.

“What?” Lil said, trying to steady her hand.

“Ariadne. She gives the ball of thread to Theseus so he can make it to the center of the labyrinth.” Lil stared at the woman holding out the ball of thread. That wasn't what had bothered her. It was what was on either side of the woman. The shapes were barely visible in the patterned glass. One might not even detect them if they weren't familiar with them already. On one side was a spiral decorated with pictographs. On the other was a double-headed ax. A labrys. She'd traced the designs a thousand times. They were the images on her mother's missing necklace.

5

L
il opened her door, and her gaze darted around the room as if she might find her mother there. But only sun spilled in and lit the beautiful interior with a warm glow. A bed was tucked into a nook, framed by bright red curtains, and Lil made her way to it, dropping her duffel bag on the mattress. The azure pillows popped against the blanket, and Lil lifted one of them, squeezing it to her chest. It was soft and smelled like flowers. She unzipped her backpack, and pulled out the registration packet and the picture of her mother and Bente she had clipped to the front of it. Then she passed the window seat, which was a stone slab propped on two large urns, kicked her shoes off at the balcony door and stepped out into the sun.

She stared around at the scenery, looking once to the picture and then to the terrain to see if she could identify where the picture had been taken. The land was a mash-up of soft and hard. Tree lines folded into jagged rocks, and shrubs sprang up from what looked like parched dirt. Lil could see an olive orchard sloping downhill from the garden, twisted trunks climbing up to lush, fruit-bearing branches. The sound of bells sent a flurry of birds skyward. She thought she saw a few rushing sheep and a turbaned head ducking in and out of the trees. The clouds above rowed their way across the sky, their dark bellies lit by the fire of the dying day. The wind picked up, drumming across the rooftop, and Lil could hear her mother's voice in it, as if this was where it had always lived:
Min zeis aplos.
Zeis tolmira
. Do not just live. Live boldly.

A knock came at the door and Lil jumped, shoving the picture into her pocket.

“Lil? Lil?”

She rushed inside, pulling the balcony doors shut behind her, and opened the dormitory door. Sydney and Charlie looked in at her.

“It's six fifty now,” Sydney said, holding her watch out for Lil to see. “Dinner?”

“Sorry!” Lil said, grabbing her folder.

“Don't forget your candle,” Charlie said, holding hers up.

“Or you can both leave your candles and I'll bring the flashlight,” Sydney said. “I actually have rechargeable batteries in it.” She waved it in front of Lil. “Who's sustainable now?”

“Yeah, but if we don't come back at the same time,” Lil said, wondering if she might see . . . might talk to Bente.

Sydney shrugged.

Lil picked the candle up from the dresser and pushed it into a waiting candleholder, then joined the others in the hall.

They made their way downstairs, past the kitchen and office into the foyer. Girls began to trickle down the spiral staircase. A large wooden door hinged to its frame with strapped iron stood open, welcoming them into the dining hall.

Lil scanned the room, savoring the simple beauty of it. If this was Greek, maybe she was Greek after all. The idea was definitely growing on her.

One long wooden table cut the room in half. Beeswax candles warmed the bellies of large and small glass jars. The dark stone that made up the walls seemed to absorb the twinkle, but a fading beam of sunset silhouetted the hollyhocks that had reached the windows and craned their cheerful faces inside. Kindling had been set in a squat fireplace on one end of the room, and a large fresco of a woman holding a ball of thread ornamented the wall just above it. More Ariadne. But without the other symbols this time. Lil wondered how long the fresco had been there. It looked faded, salmon colored, barely detectable. The chairs that hugged the table were short-backed and wicker. Each seat was set with a copper-rimmed plate and a matching porcelain bowl. And the mugs looked to be handcrafted and ranged from deep blue, to sea green, to blood red.

“Want to sit over here?” Charlie asked, heading across the room to a few seats in the middle.

Sydney nodded, and Lil could see no reason to disagree. It was a small group, much smaller than she had realized it would be. It didn't really matter where they sat. They would be able to see the counselors' table and the podium that stood next to the fireplace. Lil just wanted to spot Bente. She hoped the woman might notice her in the crowd.

Lil pulled out a chair and took a seat. The roasted chickens had been placed evenly down the center of the table. Little cast-iron pots sat between them, the ends of ladles poking out like flags. And big bowls of salad were filled with smile-shaped tomato wedges drowning in oil. Lil was tempted to snatch one out of its bowl.

The intercom crackled, and a voice emanated throughout the manor.

“Hello, future leaders. This is your grand counselor, Athenia Pelia. Opening remarks will commence in five minutes, followed by dinner. Please make your way to the dining hall.” She repeated herself in Greek, German, French, Spanish and Chinese.

By the time the announcement came to a close, most of the seats at the table were occupied. Sydney pulled her packet onto the table, and Lil noticed that she had several notes sticking out of each end. Charlie, also, had a journal and a pen out.

Lil reached for her pocket. She hadn't even thought to bring a pen to dinner. Or a notebook. Had the packet said they should? She had gotten so wrapped up in the picture and the stained-glass window . . .

“Do either of you have a pen I could borrow? I forgot mine upstairs.”

Charlie's face lit up as she produced a cloth roll. She unwound it to reveal many pens held against the cloth by leather loops.

“Take your pick,” Charlie said as Lil examined the variety. One was silver and gold, another was bright blue with a silver seal across the cap and another was slick black with copper bands. Charlie pulled the cap from one and displayed a fountain pen tip that curved into a fine point.

“They're all filled with series three because they took my black serpent class away at customs.”

Lil reached for the black one. “What's black serpent class?”

“It's an ink.” Charlie looked at her as though this were obvious. “Series three is not as good as the black serpent class. It just doesn't move as well on the paper.”

Sydney nodded, and then flipped her notebook open to the first tab and busied herself reading.

Charlie continued. “Margo goes to book expos all over the world, and she gets me a fountain pen and a journal from each country.” She rolled the case back up and put it into her pocket.

“Who's Margo?” Lil asked.

“She's my foster mom,” Charlie said, her eyes falling back to the pen. She twirled it along the top of her paper and then smeared her pointer finger across it.

“We run an antique-book store. We have a branch at home and a branch in London,” she said. “I-I don't see her much these days, but the pens . . .” She held her pen up again, hesitated. “I love the pens.”

Lil smiled, even though she didn't buy the idea that fountain pens could replace a parent, but maybe it was one of those things a person hangs on to. Something to believe in.

The bell rang behind them, and a small door near the counselors' table opened. The counselors walked in. There were four of them, and Lil's breath caught as she saw the one on the very end. It was Bente. At least she thought it was. She pulled the picture out of her pocket and looked down at it and then back up at the woman who now took her seat in the last chair at the table. Same sinewy build. Same straight hair. It was all silver now, but the way it hung around her face was exactly the same. It had to be her.

“What's that?” Charlie whispered, jutting her chin toward the picture in Lil's hand. “Is that you?” She glanced back toward the counselors, to Bente. “Do you know her?”

“I'll explain later,” Lil answered. What could she say about it, anyway? she wondered. That she had found her mother hanging from a ceiling beam, and that she and her dad couldn't sleep at night and that she had come to find some answers about a random missing necklace that for all she knew could have been something dumb like a charm bracelet? Lil pushed the picture into her pocket. She would have to think of a better way of putting all of it. Or maybe not say anything at all.

“It's strange, isn't it?” Sydney mused, not looking up from her paper.

“What is?” Lil said.

“They all seem much older than I expected,” Sydney said. “For camp counselors.”

Lil nodded. It
did
seem like all the counselors were older women. At least forty-five or older, but, Lil thought, the packet had said they were at the top of their fields. It took time to climb, didn't it? The one who now made her way to the podium seemed like she was close to Lil's dad's age.

“Welcome, future leaders,” she said, tapping the microphone twice. “I am your grand counselor, Athenia Pelia. It is an honor to have met many of you already today. I am the director of your conference this week. I hope that this is going to be a memorable learning experience for all of you and something you can look back on fondly in years to come. There is no doubt in my mind that connections will be made, knowledge will be gained and challenges will be conquered. Before we eat, I would like to introduce you to the mentors you will be studying with this week.” She gestured toward the counselors' table, and the woman closest to the podium stood up.

“Colleen Umeo Hashiro, hailing from Kauai, USA, is our resident historian with more than twenty-five years of experience in the fields of archaeology, world history and information services. You will see her for workshops on knowledge foundations, archives, history and mythology, information science and the future of information technologies.”

Charlie nodded and scribbled. “That one's on my itinerary.”

The next woman stood up, and Lil recognized her from registration earlier in the day. Her hair had been only slightly tamed since then, and she had a new shirt on for the dinner.

Athenia smiled and continued. “Trudy Finnegan. Known across continents for her groundbreaking work in particle acceleration. You'll be seeing her this week in the lab. You will not want to miss her series of workshops called Women in Science and Technology: The Next Generation.”

Sydney's eyes seemed to light up and she jotted a few notes in her folder.

“Just past Trudy, you will see Bente Formo,” Athenia continued.

Lil's heart shot into her throat at the sound of her name.

“Coming to you from Krigsskolen Academy in Norway, she is here to lead the workshop on women in military service, leadership roles and the future of women in combat.”

Lil watched Bente stand. Shoulders back. Chin up. Jaw tight. A serious face, but not unkind, like Mom, someone you wanted to make proud. She looked a little older than the rest of the women, but stronger, too.

“Oh jeez.” Sydney capped her pen. “I am not going within fifty feet of her. Do you see the size of her biceps?”

“I'm pretty sure the schedule is nonnegotiable. Rotating through each workshop every day,” Charlie whispered.

“No way. I'm getting a headache during that one. Do they have a nurse here?”

“I'm excited about it,” Lil said.

“Do you really want to go into the military?” Sydney hissed, leaning across the table toward her. “Do you realize how dangerous that is?”

“I'm going to fly,” Lil said, involuntarily looking out the window.

“Are you speaking metaphorically?” Charlie whispered, looking up from her journal. “I do love metaphors.”

“No,” Lil said. “I mean, I'm going to fly . . . a plane . . .”

It took a moment for Lil to realize that the room had gone quiet and several pairs of eyes were looking at her. Athenia paused with hands in the air, and when her gaze finally landed on Lil, she looked almost as if she had seen a ghost. Lil felt her face flush.

Athenia cleared her throat. “If we are quite ready, we will continue.”

Lil's eyes found her hands. She heard a giggle and didn't have to look to know it was Vivi Lancaster.

Luckily, Lil felt the focus return to the front of the room as Athenia continued. “And lastly, I will be teaching Women in Arts and Culture: Present, Past and Future.” A few claps resounded around the table as the artists made themselves known. “I will also be holding open studio hours all week long, so you will have plenty of opportunity to explore the wonderful world of art.”

Athenia paused and checked a notepad in front of her.

“Should you need anything throughout your stay, there will always be someone on duty in the office in which you registered.” She indicated the small office through the door and on the other side of the foyer. “Furthermore, as noted in your acceptance packets, this week is meant to be entirely unplugged, giving you time to meet, connect and make bonds as well as the chance to enjoy the beautiful grounds of Melios Manor. Should you need to reach home, the office is also equipped with a computer and phone, which will be available to you twenty-four hours a day.”

She gave a look around the room, nodded and smiled.

“Once again, we would all like to welcome you to this wonderful meeting of minds and hearts. We look forward to getting to know you. And we expect a great conference”—she nodded to the table—“beginning with this delectable homegrown meal from Aestos' unsurpassable Cretan kitchen.”