Evenor leaned forward over the table as if to challenge Orion. “If it lives so far away, what is it doing here?”
Orion narrowed his eyes but didn’t otherwise show he felt challenged at all. “Perhaps drought has driven it out, or it’s a young male without its own territory. Or…” He looked carefully around the table, including those who stood as well as those who sat, then said in a hushed voice, “Perhaps it has been lured here.”
“Lured?” Labrius asked. “By whom?”
But Atlanta had already guessed. “By the gods,” she whispered.
Orion heard her. “Always a possibility,” he said. “But whatever has brought the mantiger to Arcadia, it will soon be sorry it has crossed paths with Orion.” He slapped himself on the chest, a blow that would have broken the bones of any other man.
The crowd laughed and roared its approval.
Atalanta stirred uneasily in her chair. She was not certain what to make of Orion. He was big, yes, and certainly brave. Everyone said what a fine hunter he was. But she was uncomfortable when he began to boast. Her father had always said, “Do not praise yourself while there are others around who can sing your praises for you.” She bit her lip, then asked, “Are you going to hunt by yourself, then?”
He smiled at her condescendingly. “A beast that roams this far and wide and seems to have no fixed lair? I may be a hero, but I’m no fool, girl. It will take a hunting party to encircle it, to pen it in.”
Encircle a flying beast? she thought, but didn’t say it aloud.
“Of course,” Orion continued, “I’ll want the best hunters I can find to accompany me.”
“I’ll come,” Evenor volunteered.
Orion eyed Evenor shrewdly, taking in his lean frame, his sharp, intelligent face, and the scar that ran the length of his arm. “A boar,” he said, recognizing at once the nature of the wound. “Took it for dead, did you?
Evenor nodded.
“How many boar have you killed since?”
“Seven,” Evenor replied.
Orion looked away from him and spoke to the crowd. “A man who’s never taken a wound is too cautious to be of any use to me. A man who fears to close for the kill because of his wound is likewise of no use.” He turned back to Evenor and nodded approvingly. “You’ll do.”
“What about Herma and the children?” Phreneus objected.
“You tell them, my friend. They’ll understand,” said Evenor. “Until this beast is killed, none of us will be safe. I must do my part, for everyone’s sake.”
“I’m coming, too,” said Atalanta flatly.
Orion raised an amused eyebrow. “This is man’s work.”
Atalanta stood. “What does being a man have to do with finding and killing the beast? I’m the only one who’s seen it and lived to tell the tale.”
“So you are,” Orion agreed. “Therefore you shouldn’t tempt the Fates a second time.”
“I thought you said a hunter made cautious by his wound was of no use to you. I haven’t been made cautious,” she said quickly.
“You weren’t wounded,” he pointed out, then smiled. A titter ran around the crowd.
“That beast killed my father,” Atalanta replied hotly. “And that’s a wound deeper than one to my own flesh. Besides, there’s no better tracker in these woods than me.” She thought briefly: Now I’m boasting as much as Orion.
“She’s right,” Evenor conceded. “She’s the best I’ve ever known.” Turning to Atalanta, he asked urgently, “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“It doesn’t matter what she wants,” Orion cut him off curtly. “This hunt is mine.”
“I thought it was the king’s hunt,” Atalanta said.
“Mind your tongue, girl,” Labrius warned her.
Atalanta was about to snap back at him, but Evenor shook his head, effectively silencing her. He turned to address Orion. “No one knows the forest or the ways of the local animals like Atalanta. She would be a great help to the hunt.”
“I can see there’s something of the wild about her,” said Orion, smiling again to take the sting from his words. “But she’ll simply slow us down. In this hunt, speed is of the essence.”
“Give me a chance and I’ll win a place in your hunt,” said Atalanta.
“Win it? How?” He seemed amused.
Without thinking, she blurted out, “By…by defeating you in a footrace.”
Orion let out a huge laugh that was: soon taken up by the others, all except Evenor.
Atalanta waited for the noise to subside. “I hear you’re so fast you can run over the surface of the sea,” she said. “So if I beat you, will you let me join your hunt?”
“Girl, you could no more beat me than you could outrun the wind,” Orion said mockingly.
“I can run as fast as a bear,” Atalanta answered him. It was no boast, but the simple truth.
Orion took a thoughtful sip from his wine cup. All eyes were on him now. Would he accept the challenge or dismiss it? Atalanta was gambling that he couldn’t afford to lose face in front of all these men.
“Very well,” Orion agreed at last. “We’ll race in the morning.”
Atlanta grinned and raised her own wine cup, but she didn’t drink further. She would need a clear head as well as strong legs to win that race.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
TWO NATURES
ORION ENTERTAINED THE COMPANY late into the night with tales of his adventures, but Atalanta quickly heard enough about his strength, courage, and cleverness, all delivered in a lazy drawl. She stood and glanced about.
Labrius called her over. “One of our people can find you a pallet in his cottage for the night,” he offered. Then with a twinkle, he added, “You’ll need a good night’s rest if you’re to beat Orion tomorrow.”
Everyone at the table laughed loudly at the joke.
“She’ll need a hundred nights’ rest to do that!” his handsome son called, and the laughter redoubled.
“I don’t need a roof over my head,” Atalanta said sharply. “I’ll sleep under the stars.”
“Surely not,” said Labrius. “What about the mantiger?”
“I’ll shelter high in a tree,” she replied. “The thing may have wings, but it’s too heavy to roost.” What she didn’t say was that she hoped that Urso had found her trail. But if he had, she knew he’d never come openly into a place like Mylonas.
Snatching up her bow, arrows, and spear, she stomped off into the nearby woods. There she found an oak high enough to keep her from the ground animals but with a canopy deep enough to discourage the mantiger’s attention should it still be close.
Climbing the tree easily, she settled down in a crotch, making certain that her quiver of arrows was slung on a branch within easy reach, and that both bow and spear were at hand. But it was hard getting to sleep with so much loud singing and laughing going on back at the village. The people of Mylonas were celebrating as heartily as if Orion had already slain the beast and taken its hide as a trophy. But at last she drifted off, only to be awakened by a soft whistle.
At first she thought it must be a breeze blowing through the trees. Then she realized the air was still; what she heard was a pipe tune.
Tucking her knife into her belt, and taking her spear in hand, she shimmied down the tree, following the sound.
Suddenly a familiar musk invaded her nostrils.
“Urso,” she called as her feet touched the ground. She turned, and in the dim light of the shrouded moon, she saw him.
He wasn’t alone. Curled up on the ground under an ash tree, he had rested his head in the lap of a figure she recognized. For a moment jealousy pierced her like a poisoned dart.
When he saw Atalanta, Pan lowered the pipes. “Ah, the little huntress,” he said in that low, musical voice. “I wondered when you’d show up.”