“Not anymore,” Otrere said. “But seeing what discord among the people my arrest has provoked, Valasca has asked that I give my blessing to the sacrifice. If I do that much, she promises I’ll be restored to the throne.”
“Then do it!” Hippolyta said. Her voice was louder than she meant, and she immediately clamped her hand over her mouth.
“Never!” Otrere whispered hoarsely. “I will forbid this awful act as long as I have the breath to resist.”
Hippolyta was silent for a moment, then said, “Mother, if you continue on this path, what will happen to all your good work? Even now Valasca is using your actions and your absence as an excuse to mount a campaign against the Phrygians.”
Otrere leaned forward. “Do you know this for certain, daughter, or is it more gossip?”
“Orithya told me.”
“Your sister is not in the councils of the Elders,” said Otrere. “She can’t know what they’re planning. But if she’s right …”
“If she’s right,” Hippolyta said quickly, “then you must take your throne back quickly. Give up the boy, Mother. What a small payment to save your people.”
“Small? You call the murder of an infant a small payment? How dark a fate will fall upon us if I approve the murder of my own babe!” her mother replied.
“But he’s only a male,” Hippolyta said. “He should mean less to you than your own race. The laws say so. Surely other queens have given up their sons on the altar.”
Queen Otrere smiled sadly. “No, Hippolyta, I am the first of the queens to give birth to two live sons.”
“Then indeed the prophecy has come true … and the laws.”
Otrere shook her head. “Oh, my dear daughter, our laws may determine how we must act, but they can’t dictate how we feel. Would you sacrifice one of your sisters if the laws demanded it?”
“That’s not the same.”
“Isn’t it?” her mother said quietly. “That baby is your brother.”
“Brother …” Hippolyta screwed up her face. It was a rare word in the Amazon language, and it sounded strange to her.
“Yes, your brother, blood of your blood.” Queen Otrere glanced out the grille at the moon, which was now low on the horizon. “Same mother, though different fathers. That’s why I’m counting on you to save him, to bring him to his father.”
“Me?” Hippolyta was horrified. Her hand went to her breast. “Why me?”
“Who else is there?” her mother said in a sensible voice. Hippolyta hated it when her mother was so sensible. “Antiope and Melanippe are much too young to undertake such a difficult journey alone. Orithya is too close to Valasca for me to trust her. It has to be you, my daughter.”
It has to be me. Hippolyta knew that much was true. She didn’t like knowing that.
“But there’s only one day left,” she objected. “The baby will be well guarded. I don’t know how to ride with an infant. What if I get hurt? What if I’m discovered? What if he gets sick along the way?” She ran out of breath and excuses at the same time. Then she added in a whispery wail, “He’s only a boy!”
Otrere sat down on the bench as if standing had wearied her. She folded her hands. Mouth firm, back straight, she sat as though a thousand pairs of eyes were on her, not just one. Hippolyta had seen her mother sit like that many times when passing judgment on a dispute between two of her subjects.
“As I am no longer queen, I can’t command you to do anything,” Otrere said. “But I can still ask it—as your mother.”
Hippolyta felt a chill run through her. “It will mean going up against Valasca and all of the others. And against the goddess’s law.” She waited, hoping to change her mother’s mind.
“If all are wrong, and only you are right, still you must do that right thing,” Otrere told her.
“But I don’t know what the right thing is,” Hippolyta wailed again. She knelt and put her head in her mother’s lap.
Otrere stroked her daughter’s hair, feeling its tough wiriness. “It’s not right under any circumstances to murder an innocent infant.”
“But the law—”
Her mother sighed. “That law was made many generations ago by superstitious women so afraid they might once again fall under the rule of men that they wandered ceaselessly upon the earth. They tried to outdo men in cruelty, as if that were the only way they could be strong. We have come far beyond those women, Hippolyta. We must honor them as our mothers, but we have outgrown their fears. Today we live in a community within walls. We hold commerce with our neighbors, whether they be women or men. And we have learned to temper justice with mercy. That is our strength now.”
“But what about the gods, Mother? Won’t they be angry if we break our part of the pact and keep the child alive?”
Otrere lifted her daughter up so that they looked into each other’s eyes. “Sometimes we have to make the gods angry.” She laughed briefly. “It’s often the only way to get their attention.”
Hippolyta’s jaw dropped. “Mother!”
Otrere stood and took Hippolyta up with her. “The news you bring me about the Phrygians lets me know absolutely that you must go. I must stay here opposing Valasca for as long as I’m able. If she is rid of me, she’ll plunge our sisters into years of empty, bloody warfare. She is a throwback, daughter, to the old ways, the old fears. We must go forward, not fall behind. I am certain I can make our sisters understand this.”
Valasca’s hawk face suddenly filled Hippolyta’s mind. She sighed. “I’ll do it.”
“Of course you will,” Otrere said. “You’re my good, brave girl.”
“Do you have a plan?” Now that Hippolyta had said the words, had given her promise, she was eager to get started.
Otrere nodded. “Demonassa will bring Podarces to you tomorrow night.”
“Podarces?”
Otrere smiled. “That’s the baby’s name. Podarces—swift-footed.”
“Baby” seemed good enough to me, thought Hippolyta. But she didn’t say it aloud.
Otrere went on. “A trusted acolyte will carry an orphaned baby girl that Demonassa has been caring for to the ceremony in his place. Only when the child is actually on the altar and stripped of its clothing will the substitution be discovered. Since it will be a girl, no one will touch the child, and the acolyte will lay the blame on Demonassa, who can escape with the aid of her magic. That will buy you time to be on your way.”
“Where am I to go, Mother?” Hippolyta had been wondering this all along, even before she’d said she would take the boy.
“To Troy.”
Hippolyta started. Troy was a very long way away. Days and days and days. She knew no one who’d ever been there. “Why Troy?”
Otrere smiled wryly. “Because that’s where you’ll find Podarces’ father. Laomedon, king of Troy.”
“He’s a king’s son?” How many more surprises might Otrere unfold this night?
“He’s a queen’s son,” Otrere answered. “And should Valasca learn where he is, even she will think twice before assaulting the high stone walls of that city.”
Hippolyta tried to envision a high-walled stone city filled with men and failed.
“You’d best go now,” Otrere said. “Another guard may appear at any moment.”
Hippolyta walked to the cell door, then turned. “Mother …” Already she was thinking that her mother had the right of it. The powerful king of Troy would surely send them help in exchange for his son.
Otrere was looking down at her hands.
“Mother, I swear I’ll return and restore you to your throne.”
As if she somehow had known the conversation was at an end, Demonassa appeared and led Hippolyta out of the prison. Hippolyta threw one last regretful glance back at the rough gray building before following the old seeress into the darkened streets.