Jason and Atalanta were carried off in the hunters' artificial talons, the blades thrust through what was left of their clothing and, as they soon learned, digging into their flesh if they struggled. The party negotiated a maze of tree-limbs and trunks and overgrown spherical ponds so complex that Jason was lost again by the time he saw the village ahead--if it could be called a village.
There was a spinning wheel of fire and a great spiral of black smoke in the centre of a spider's web of vines stretched across a corridor in the foliage. There was a constant, brisk, warm breeze blowing through the encampment, and Jason realized the wind-tunnel had been hacked through the foliage with sharp blades, taking advantage of the air's natural tendency to circulate between shadowed and sunlit areas. As the sun made its circuit of the island every few years, he guessed, they would have to move on to new encampments, carving up the forest to channel the winds as they chose.
The reason for stringing their sleeping-web in a windy place was obvious to any spacefarer, as Jason was beginning to consider himself: without air circulation, a sleeper's exhalations will collect about his face and choke him, waking him up if he is lucky, or asphyxiating him if he is not.
The fire, too, would need a constant supply of moving air. Jason studied their revolving stove with fascination, despite the seriousness of his situation. It had blades and transparent panels and was mounted on a kind of spoked wheel, which a young child was spinning occasionally to spiral the smoke out of the encampment. The thing was black with soot over most of its surface, but parts of it still gleamed like steel.
With a grunt of admiration, Jason realized that he was looking at a model of the island itself, complete with mirrors and panels and interior landscapes--or at least the landscapes that would once have been, when the cylinder rotated and the inhabitants walked its inner circumference. It was anchored by long ropes to sturdy tree-limbs, and a shaft of sunlight poured down upon it, directly from the window. They had only to fill it with dried wood and fresh meat, arrange its mirrors to focus sunlight on the tinder, igniting it, and then keep it spinning to draw in fresh air and expel the smoke.
This ingenious device was the centre of an encampment without houses. People climbed the ratlines or slept where they were--mothers hung together, making crafts with infants at their breasts; children darted in winged pursuit of each other or splashed in a shimmering globe of water anchored nearby. There was also a complex system of vanes and spinning wind-wheels that seemed to be a loom of some sort, where a party of old men appeared to be fabricating wings out of animal-skins.
Jason and Atalanta were carried into the village amid a great whispering commotion, and were dropped into the webbing, to which they clung. They were not restrained in any way, it being painfully obvious that a mere child could catch them if they attempted to escape. Food was brought to them in a covered basket--roast meat which Jason took to be squirrel, boiled birds' eggs, fruit, and a ball of delicious honey-flavoured tea which stuck to their fingers as they drank it. The whole village ate at once, clinging to the webbing, except one old man who perched on a tree-limb and spread his arms before the assembled host. When he spoke, it was in a slow and measured tone, as if reciting an ancient and holy text. Jason and Atalanta glanced at each other in surprise when they discovered that the ancient language he spoke was their own.
"In the beginning, there was chaos. Soil and water and air were mixed together. Then the Great Mother, who is ever young and knows all things, caused the water of life to be gathered together in great pools, like attracted to like. Soil and seed she placed on the surface, that the roots might branch below and the branches might root above. Thus, the Great Trees were born.
"The Great Trees are nine in number, and these are their names." He pointed in several directions as he spoke, and the assembled multitude glanced in those directions, repeating the names after him. "The Tree of Life, the Tree of Knowledge, the World Tree. The Tree of Mystery, the Tree of Truth, the Tree of Light. The Tree of Blessings, the Tree of Sweet Dew, the Singing Tree. Each has its fruit and its law.
"Man and the other creatures were cowering in a straight and narrow place, between the green world of inner warmth and the black world of outer cold. The goddess called man forth with his creatures, saying, 'The world is cleansed. Follow the law and no more shall evil come from the outer darkness to turn the world inside-out.' The spirits of evil live in a world of gravity. Weight depresses their souls and crushes the breath from their lips. They are bound to the spinning wheel, tantalized by fair fruits beyond their reach. They fall back, rooted to the circumference as the Great Trees are rooted in the Waters of Life. But the People of the Tree will live in the arms of the Great Trees as a child in its mother's arms, our souls as free as the birds. Loosed from the wheel, no longer bound to the circumference, we seek the centre of all things."
Then he reverted to his own language, which Jason and Atalanta could no longer follow, except for a few distorted words. He pointed to them now and again, and it was clear enough what was happening: they were being identified with the aforementioned spirits of evil, come from the world of gravity, which was Hell, to turn the world inside-out. It would be hard to deny, having obviously come from a world of gravity beyond the outer darkness and having killed the first native they met. But deny it they attempted to do, until such a clamour was raised at their speaking that they had to shut up. Jason realized too late that demons would quite naturally speak the holy tongue, and they had pretty much condemned themselves by doing so. He was beginning to understand a great deal about human society, and it was something of a pity that he was learning it so late in his short life.
Eventually, Jason and Atalanta were tied up and dragged off and the whole tribe followed, children and all. They found themselves in a clearing near the end-cap--a kind of amphitheatre carved in the foliage--in which everyone took a place in the branches. In a moment, there was a familiar sort of shimmering in the centre of the open space, and a figure appeared. It was a woman--young, beautiful, intelligent-looking, smiling in a friendly matter.
Jason was relieved. "It's the island's Guardian," he whispered to Atalanta. "She still lives."
Atalanta shook her head in dismay. "There has been terrible destruction here. Many people must have died."
"I don't understand."
She looked at him. "Don't you know? The Guardians and Oracles are sworn to protect us. When there has been great loss of life, they sometime lose their reason."
The old man of the tribe spoke up. "Great Circe, your island has been invaded by demons from beyond the Black Sea. We have killed two and captured two and our warriors are in search of the other."
Jason's heart leaped. Orpheus might still live.
The goddess spoke in an incongruously calm and reassuring voice. "Where are the two you have captured? Bring them forth."
Jason and Atalanta were pushed out into the amphitheatre, where they drifted slowly toward the shimmering oracle, quite obviously helpless in weightlessness, even if they had not been bound with ropes.
"These are not demons, My People," she said, smiling. "These are merely sailors."
Jason breathed a sigh of relief.
"Their Captain, Odysseus, waits aboard their vessel," she went on. "Until he arrives to free them, they must be turned to swine like the others before them."
The natives began to chant: "Long pig! Long pig!"
Atalanta's jaw dropped in astonishment, and she turned toward Jason with fear in her eyes. "This is Circe, who turns Odysseus' men to swine until he comes to rescue them."
"I know that. Chiron told me the story. What's long pig?"
"That's how cannibals refer to human meat."
"Oh. I see."
Jason stretched out his arms in supplication. "Great Circe, daughter of the sun, goddess of wild beasts, I am Jason, Captain of the good ship Argo. We seek the Golden Fleece, but have lost our way, for we arrive at your island at the beginning of our voyage instead of the end. I ask your help in finding our true way across the Black Sea."
"Others have made this claim." said the goddess slowly, as if trying to remember something. "My instructions, however, contain no mention of Jason, only of Odysseus and his shipmates. Tell me, do you not seek to pass beyond the Wandering Rocks?"
"Yes, Goddess, but..."
"Do you not seek to pass the Sirens, and the monstrous Scylla and Charybdis?"
"Yes, Goddess, but..."
"Your voyage is clearly an odyssey, and your captain must be Odysseus. Others have claimed the name of Captain Jason, but they were in error, as human beings often are, for there is no record of a Captain Jason. When Odysseus arrives, he will doubtless clear up any confusion in the records. In the meantime, you will be turned to swine like the others."
The natives raised a great shout. "Long pig! Long pig! A feast in honour of the goddess Circe!"
Suddenly, there was a terrible screeching and chattering, and the goddess appeared to give birth, for dozens of monkeys poured through her image and fanned out through the amphitheatre. The natives were thrown into confusion as the flood of monkeys washed over them, swinging through the foliage, shrieking and shaking the branches on which they were perched, even beating them about the body and pulling their hair. Amid the press of bodies and the confused shouting and screeching, warriors were unable to use their weapons.
One of the monkeys dove after Jason and Atalanta, snatched up the trailing ends of the ropes that bound them, and dragged them into the shimmering image of the goddess. What appeared to be the king of the monkeys was beckoning to them from a service-port in the overgrown end-cap wall behind her, but they soon realized it was not a monkey; it was a wizened old man, and blind to boot. His blindness did not stop him, however, from untying their bonds with skeletal, but strong, fingers as soon as he had his hands on them.
"She doesn't know what to do," he chuckled. "She's a creature of limited intelligence. Poor girl! Waiting for Odysseus all these years, and the only time a ship puts in, it’s the Argo. I couldn't see what was happening out there, but I heard everything. Are you really Jason?"
"Yes, I am. Jason, raised by Chiron..."
"And you," said Atalanta, "must be King Phineas, blinded and imprisoned by these Harpies. We are here to rescue you."
"Who's rescuing who, Girl? I'm no Phineas. I'm Tiphys. The pilot. Follow me. I know these corridors like my own hand."
He felt his way along the wall and vanished into the blackness of the service-ducts. They hurried after him, blind as he in the dark, but following the sound of his voice as he rambled on:
"It's been a long time since I spoke to another man. Or a woman. We had no Atalanta in our crew, more's the pity. Our Pelias was of the persuasion that no woman could sail on the Argo. The crew abandoned me here, sailed away without me--those who were not captured and turned into long pig.
"I've been in this place... By Hera, I don't know how long I've been here. I went blind after a few years of hiding out in the dark. It wasn't the darkness that did it, but infection. So many impurities in the air, you know, with the terrible circulation in the endcaps. That's the trouble with living in weightless..."
"How did you survive?"
"Oh, I sleep in a few air-conditioning ducts where a bit of breeze is still coming through. And there's water too. I taught the monkeys to fetch food for me, with the help of my own pet, who died a while back. Fortunately, this was accomplished while I could still see them sign. It's worrisome to sign to them and not know what they're signing back, but they obey, and I know their various calls and what they mean. I suppose they've taught me their language, rudimentary as it is, while I was teaching them. But it can't go on much longer, so I guess I'll say yes to your kind offer of rescue. Lucky for me you wandered this way."
"Our voyage almost never happened," Jason said. "It seems that Iolcos can no longer afford to waste an Argo--even a rusting old hulk like ours--on every would-be Jason that appears. The last few generations, the kings have been putting them to death, on the charge of falsely claiming to be the hero. I was defended by Hera herself, so Pelias had no choice."
"How do they get each new Pelias, then?"
"It's become a hereditary title."
"Sacrilege!" the old man exclaimed. "In my day, no Pelias could have gotten away with crowning his own son, unless the boy declared himself to be a true Jason, set sail, and returned with lots of booty. That's how we kept ourselves strong and secure. We were the best raiders in the Wandering Rocks. Turn this way."
"Well," said Jason, "Orpheus claims the Golden Fleece is more than stolen gold. He says it's some kind of knowledge brought back from beyond the Black Sea. He says the events that take place at Colchis are an initiation into some sort of ancient mystery."
"Humph! That debate's been going on as long as there have been priests and bards, which is forever. These Orphei think everything is a mystery. Good hard metal! Gold and silver and platinum, to trade and repair the systems. That's a mystery worth seeking. In here."
They could tell from the echo and the breeze that they had turned into a large tunnel, the smooth walls stretching a great distance.
"This was for transportation," Tiphys said. "It runs the length of the cylinder behind one of the old landscapes. If we follow it, we'll come out near your ship."
"Then, by all means, let’s do so," said Atalanta, "before our companions give us up for dead and sail away, like your crew did."
"You'll take me with you?"
"Of course. Why not? Our own pilot is dead. And our astrogator too. Only hurry."
The old man darted off down the tunnel and the youngsters followed the sound of his breathing in the darkness. Because sound carried so well, they heard the hubbub from behind them at a great distance. They sped up, literally plummeting down the tunnel, slapping at the walls to accelerate.
A shrieking mass of furry bodies overtook and washed over them. Jason covered his head and let the monkeys scramble over his body. He was kicked and pummelled and tumbled about, and when the flood of simian madness had passed, he was disoriented. For an instant he flailed about, unable to see, unable to feel the bulkhead, but then he saw a point of light in the distance. He started toward it, but the light was joined by another, and another, and they began to bob and weave in the dark. The natives were after them with torches.
He felt Atalanta's grip on his wrist. "This way. Here's the wall. Come on."
They darted onward and soon collided with the old man.
"It's here somewhere," he was saying. "I can tell by the breeze."
"Hurry. They're coming. And they have torches." Already the tunnel was less than totally black, and Jason could vaguely discern the old man, feeling his way along the wall. Arrows whizzed by.
"I can see now," Jason said. "There's a platform recessed into the curve of the wall. And three hatches leading off into the dark."
"The middle one," said the old man. "Take the middle one."
They darted into the tunnel and up a ramp, pulling the old man after them. Sunlight appeared around a turn, and they emerged into the green luminance of the overgrown harbour. The youngsters steered their rescuer through the tangle of foliage toward their launch.
Orpheus suddenly appeared, coming from another direction, clutching his lyre to his breast. Jason waved and shouted, and then he saw a dozen natives in pursuit of the Bard. In a twinkling, the remaining Argonauts were surrounded and cut off from the ship. The natives closed in, bows drawn, spears ready.
"Long pig! Long pig! Long pig!"
Arrows were nocked and bows drawn, spears drawn back.
There was a great roar from inside the launch's open hatch and the natives were startled into silence.
"By Jupiter! What's all this noise?" Hercules emerged from the hatch, yawning and scratching his head. He stretched his enormous arms and the natives fell to whispering among themselves.
Jason pointed and shouted. "It's Odysseus!"
"What?" said Hercules.
Unchallenged now, Jason kicked off toward him. "Captain Odysseus," he said in a loud voice, "this is Circe's isle. Circe has been waiting for you. We were captured and about to be turned into long pigs, but now that you have arrived, we will all be freed."
"What?" said Hercules.
It did not take more than a moment for Orpheus to catch on. "You remember, Captain," he said. "You sent us ashore for water, not knowing that the isle was inhabited by a sorceress named Circe, and she not knowing that the long-awaited Odysseus was here."
"Oh. Yes," he thundered. "It's me. Odysseus." He looked about. "Where is the rest of my crew?"
"Dead, Captain."
The rage that flashed in Hercules’ eyes was turned upon the natives and they wilted visibly before it. He reached out with one gorilla-like arm, seized a tree-limb that bent before his mass, and pushed off toward the natives. They fell back like water on either side of him. "Take me to your Guardian," he demanded. "Clear a path for me through this undergrowth."
"Wait! No!" said Jason, but it was too late. The remaining Argonauts looked at each other in consternation and scrambled after Hercules. It was not long before they were back in the amphitheatre. If Circe was surprised to see the enraged Hercules before her, she did not appear so.
"Your people have murdered two of my crew," he shouted.
"On the contrary," she replied, unperturbed. "Your crew invaded this island and began killing immediately. The People only defended their home."
"They are killers and cannibals."
"I have no mandate to interfere in the people's religious rituals. My role is to preserve and disseminate knowledge. I am the keeper of the way to Hades, the secret of safe passage past the Sirens, and past Scylla and Charybdis, which knowledge I shall impart to Odysseus when he arrives."
"I am Odysseus," Hercules declared.
Circe paused for a moment. "You lie," she said. "Analysis of your voice betrays you."
Jason glanced at Orpheus. The latter had been hanging back, half hidden by the foliage, his lyre strapped to his side. His fingers moved delicately over the keys.
There was a shimmering in the air and a figure appeared--a woman, taller than life, dressed in armour and winged sandals.
"Cousin Athena," said Circe. "What brings you here?"
"This ship and crew are under my protection. Whether the captain be named Odysseus or Jason does not matter. My mandate is to bring them safely to their destination."
"This is my island, not your ship. You have no authority here."
"I am the daughter of Jupiter and I have authority everywhere men travel."
"I am Circe, daughter of the sun. This is my island and these my people, whom I have kept alive for many generations, and whom I must protect from the likes of you and your raiding, thieving, disease-carrying ships."
"Even to the death of human beings?"
Circe hesitated. "I must allow no harm to come to human beings, but if there is a conflict between harm to those human beings under my protection and to others who threaten them, then I must allow the latter to come to harm. This is basic."
"Observe, then," said Athena. "For if you do not allow my sailors to leave unmolested, with the food and water they need, I will see to it that your protégés are destroyed."
"How, Cousin? By ordering your raiders to attack? They are outnumbered and disadvantaged in zero gravity. They fled my brave warriors like the cowardly thieves they are."
Athena spread her arms and held out her spear. "I will cancel that disadvantage by bringing gravity once again to this island. In the process, your people and the trees they depend on will be destroyed."
"You have not the power, Cousin, even if you could allow such destruction to take place."
"Observe, then."
There was a distant rustling, and light flickered eerily through the foliage. The natives began to murmur and glance about apprehensively. The flickering light could be seen to revolve ever so slowly about them.
"The cylinder has begun to turn again," said Athena. "You cannot feel the tug of gravity here at the axis, but already the great trees begin to groan."
There was indeed a creaking and a groaning that rose in volume to a deafening roar, drowning out the rustle of leaves and the whispering of the wind. The lights began to spin faster, and the natives cowered in fear and vertigo. Orpheus' fingers danced over the keys of his lyre.
"Ancient boughs will break like twigs," Athena went on, "and the Great Trees will move from their places. They will collapse of their own weight and shatter the windows. Everything--trees and beasts and people alike--will be sucked out into vacuum. Your domain will be without life, and void, once again."
"This is a bluff, Cousin. You endanger your crew."
"On the contrary. My crew will return to their ship, without the supplies they came for perhaps, but unharmed. Look at your people. Can they stop them?"
"They can. People of the Trees, seize these raiders now. Threaten them and the pirate-goddess must surrender."
The natives did not respond. They clung to their branches, frozen with fear and vertigo. Some stretched out their arms, pleading to Circe and Athena alike.
"See their fear," said Athena. "See their suffering. They will be helpless against the power of gravity. They will fall from the skies, shrieking in terror. They will see their beloved trees smash through the glass. They will follow them into nothingness. They will strangle in the vacuum, cursing your name with their last expelled breath. Argonauts, return to your ship. Quickly."
The sailors turned and started to leave. Orpheus was the last to move, and as he did so, Athena turned as well and began to fade away.
"You have won, Cousin Athena," Circe shouted over the distant roar of the trees. "Your crew may have food and water and will be allowed to leave unmolested."
Athena raised her hands. The spinning lights began to slow, the moaning and rustle of tortured tree-limbs fell silent, and all was as it was before--the only sound the faint rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze, until the birds and animals began to chatter once again. Athena turned to face the natives and stretched out her spear toward them.
"Do not harm my crew," she said with a deafening roar, and then she vanished.
Orpheus grinned from ear to ear. He switched off his lyre and slung it over his shoulder again.
***
"I believe," Athena said quietly as the supplies were being loaded aboard the launch, "that impersonating a Guardian is a violation of Orphic Guild rules."
Orpheus shrugged as well as he could in the zero gravity. "Somehow, I don't think it's the first time such a thing has happened. Besides, my little trick saved many lives. Including my own."
"But how did you manage to make the cylinder spin?" Jason asked.
"I didn't," Orpheus said, grinning. "It was just a light-show with accompanying sound-effects. But the natives' dizziness was real enough. We grew up seeing the universe whirling about our heads. They didn't."
Fruit and dried meat and bags of water had been stowed aboard, and the bodies of the twins were wrapped and placed in an airlock for burial in space. The Argo's launch cast off and the island drifted away behind them. Orpheus began the funeral oration:
"Many are the forms the heavenly will assumes, and many a thing the gods bring to pass contrary to all hope. That which was anticipated is not fulfilled, while for the unexpected heaven finds a way."
"Amen," said everyone.
"We search the Book of Argo for understanding. It says: Hercules shall lose his companion, the Argonauts shall strive against barbarous tribes and be victorious, the ship shall lose its pilot, and a blind seer shall be rescued from winged foes and taken aboard. Those who interpret the sacred writings literally may not recognize the ancient oracles in recent events, but we who are bereaved at our loss, exultant in our victory, and grateful of our rescue, understand. The Golden Fleece, guarded by the Brazen Bull, the Sleepless Dragon, and the Earthborn Men, lies before us. We do not know what form these things will take, but we are ready to meet them, certain that the success predicted by the Book of Argo will come to pass.
"Our brothers Castor and Pollux have sacrificed their lives in this quest, and whatever form the Golden Fleece may take, its return will be dedicated to their memory."
Hatches opened, and Castor and Pollux tumbled into the Black Sea. The launch hurried to mate with the Argo.