By afternoon Atalanta was beginning to wonder if Orion had made a mistake. For all the tales that were told about him, he was still just a man and as likely to be wrong as any other. Certainly she’d found nothing to indicate they were on the mantiger’s track. No prints, no feathers, no spoor. And more importantly—no butchered animals. At noon the others had reported the same lack of success.
She could only hope that some other member of the party would pick up a trail by nightfall.
All at once she heard a movement behind her. She waited, pretending to be unaware of its approach, then spun around in an instant, spear poised to throw.
“Melanion!” She lowered the spear but kept the spearhead pointed at his middle. “Of all the muddleheaded…Why are you sneaking up on me?” she demanded. “You should be checking your patch of forest.”
Melanion shrugged. “All I’ve come across out here are some bees and a few mice. Have you found anything?”
“Only an idiot who should be tethered up for his own safety.” She walked briskly on, eyes scouring the ground on either side. Melanion jogged after her.
“You know, there’s something familiar about you,” he said, popping a fresh stalk of grass into his mouth and chewing on it thoughtfully. “When I first saw you at the banquet, and then again the morning we left, when you were talking to the queen, and now looking at you in this light, I have a strange tickle at the back of my mind. Something I see but yet don’t see.”
Atalanta could feel her face flush. Unaccountably her hand was clenched tightly around her spear. Too tightly. Carefully she loosened her grip. Lightly, she said, “Did you come to chase the beast or to hound me?”
“Madam, I am wounded by you,” Melanion answered. “As the poet says, a man wounded by a rabid dog sees the beast’s image in all waters.”
“I don’t know your poet, but I’m no mad dog,” she answered. “Except that I’m mad at you for interrupting me. Now will you go back to your line?” She strode quickly away to resume her part of the search.
As evening fell, the hunting party gathered to discuss their progress. No one had come across any sign of the mantiger.
Ancaeus looked around at the tree-covered slopes, the forbidding crags, the sun setting behind the looming western peaks. “We should have brought more men,” he complained. “We are too few to cover all this ground. Isn’t that right, Hierax?”
The royal huntsman nodded reluctantly, bound by duty to agree with his prince, but he said nothing. Atalanta doubted he’d spoken more than a few dozen words since they’d left Tegea, but he’d never strayed far from Ancaeus’ side, as though he were intent on guarding the prince, either from the dangers of the wild or from his own folly.
“The mantiger can only be in one place at a time,” said Orion, “so we only need to cover one place.”
“We’ve hardly seen any kind of animal at all, let alone the one we’re looking for,” said Ancaeus. “Perhaps this is the wrong place.”
“That’s the whole point,” said Orion. “Sometimes you find tracks or spoor, other times it’s what you don’t find that leads you to your prey.”
Ancaeus looked baffled. “What’s he talking about?”
Evenor answered, “This place should be rich with animals—deer and boar and rabbits and birds. Yet there are none. What Orion means is that the mantiger’s scared them off.”
Orion turned to Melanion. “You said there are caves up here.”
“Yes, lots of them,” said Melanion, pointing toward the mountains. “I’ve found mountain cats and bear and—”
Prince Ancaeus interrupted. “You’re no hunter, boy. A sluggard, yes. A parasite…”
“I’m not a hunter, Uncle, but I am a finder,” Melanion said.
“Yes, you find, then you run away.”
Orion raised his hand, which effectively stopped their quarreling. “Let’s make camp,” he said. “Any family feuds should be settled at home, not here.”
They set down their equipment in the shelter of some poplar trees, and Orion gave Melanion the job of gathering firewood with Hierax to guard him.
Atalanta was glad to see him sent off on an errand for she was afraid he might start questioning her again. Sitting down on a stone, she set her quiver and bow aside. Then she began rubbing her temples for she’d developed an ache that seemed to invade both sides of her head.
“Something’s troubling you,” Evenor said. “Is it Melanion?”
“He keeps following me around.”
Evenor chuckled. “You’ll soon have lots of young men following you around.”
“They won’t if they know what’s good for them,” Atalanta said. “But that’s not what’s bothering me. This is something about King Iasus and his brother.”
“What do you mean?” Evenor squatted next to her so that they were face-to-face.
“Well, you’ve heard Ancaeus complaining, haven’t you. He sounds like he doesn’t want to be here at all. So why did he come?”
Evenor ran his fingers through his hair. “I think he wants the glory of the hunt but none of the hard work or discomfort.”
“Maybe,” Atalanta said. “But I can’t help feeling that the king made him come.” She remembered Artemis’ voice in her dream saying, “Only your own blood can save you now.”
“Why should you think that?” Evenor asked.
Not wanting to tell him about her dream or the rumor or the statue or the image on the ring, she stood up. Head aching, she picked up her bow and started toward the trees. “I think I’ll make some use of the last of the light.”
She didn’t expect to find anything—and she was right.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
ATTACK
THE MORNING DAWNED DREARILY with gray clouds rolling in from the west. By the time they had eaten the food they’d brought with them, a light drizzle was pattering on the leaves.
Rain didn’t disturb Atalanta. Living in the wild she’d hunted in worse conditions than these. She supposed, however, that Prince Ancaeus, used as he was to the comforts of the palace, would be complaining bitterly to anyone who would listen. She just made sure she wasn’t near enough to hear.
As the day wore on, the rain grew heavier, until by afternoon they were surrounded by a cold, dank haze. Atalanta realized that it would be hard enough to find one another in this weather, let alone an elusive and deadly animal.
Orion’s voice sounded through the trees, calling the hunting party together, and slowly they gathered in a small clearing, damp and disheartened.
A flash of lightning ripped across the sky, followed by a long, slow rumble of thunder.
“This is getting us nowhere,” said Orion. “We’d best find shelter and resume when the rain eases off.”
“The wet earth will at least show up any fresh tracks after the rain stops,” said Evenor with what sounded like faint hope in his voice.
“Like these you mean?” Melanion was crouched at the edge of the clearing, poking in the sodden grass with his finger. Orion reached him in two strides and squatted beside him.
“Some sort of large animal has been here all right,” Orion said. “Though it’s hard to say what.”
Hierax knelt down and ran his fingers over the grass but offered no guesses.
Atalanta didn’t look at the tracks. Instead she’d been examining a nearby tree. “Look at these grooves in the bark here,” she called.
Evenor joined her. “Claw marks.”
Orion got up and went over to examine the marks through narrowed eyes. “Bear?”
“Look how big they are, and how high,” Atalanta pointed out.
Some of the scratches were higher than the top of Orion’s head.
“An animal’s been sharpening its claws here, a big one,” said Orion. “Could be bear.”
Hierax and Aricaeus, too, examined the marks. The hunter smiled. “There’s fresh mud smeared on the bark from the pads of its paws.”