MANEUVERS
Dorian looked up from a stack of stone tablets on the workshop table as she heard a tapping sound. It was so faint that she thought it might be the wind. Then she heard it again, louder this time. 'Come in.'
The door creaked slowly open; she saw a shadow in the doorway, then recognized Panos. 'Well, I've been waiting for you.'
Panos hesitated, looked down at his hands. 'Not as long as I've waited.' The words were forced, a confession. Then he stepped inside and peered at the rows of stone tablets. 'Soon, a new, modern house of records will be built.' His voice was stronger, and the words were spoken like a challenge. He watched her closely.
'I know,' she answered.
'Do you?' Again, he shifted his eyes as she met his gaze, and she realized that he was feeling self-conscious, maybe overwhelmed.
'It will be needed,' she added.
'Tell me who you are,' he demanded, but his eyes still shifting about uneasily.
She smiled and answered without hesitating. 'Pythia, of course.'
He nodded, glancing up at her. 'The veil is receding. I knew it would.'
She picked up one of the stone tablets and ran her fingers over it. 'I understand now that the oracle never left us. The last Pythia merely put it to bed, and now it is reawakening.'
'Well said.'
'It's very strange, but I understand now that my life's work has been only a prelude to the Return. A week ago I would have laughed at such an idea. Now, I know it for a fact.'
Panos paced in front of the long table covered with stone tablets. He picked one of them up, examined it briefly, then laid it back down. There was something defiant in the act, as if he were making claim to the workshop and everything it represented and daring her to challenge him. 'My son, Grigoris, told me that Jones found something in the crevice. What was it?'
'I'm not sure. He said something about a black stone.'
Panos spun on his heels and faced her. 'The stone is important, and Doumas must not ever touch it.' He spoke sharply; his eyes flared. 'It is ours, and we must have it.'
Dorian was baffled. She was surprised by his outburst. She didn't know what he was talking about.
'Don't you understand? He has found the Omphalos. We must claim it.'
The Omphalos was a mysterious aspect of the Oracle of Delphi that Dorian had never clearly grasped. In legend, it was sometimes described as a stone that was as large as a room, other times as one that was small and portable, cone-shaped, like Jones had described. Sometimes, even Delphi itself was called the Omphalos, the navel of the world. She'd always viewed it as more symbolic than real, more of a definition of Delphi than a relic that could be recovered.
'How do you know it's the Omphalos?'
'The Oracle could not return without the Omphalos,' he answered.
'Why is that, Panos?'
He frowned at her. 'You still have much to remember. Pythia should know the great secret of Delphi.'
She smiled at him. 'I am Pythia, but I am also Dorian Belecamus, and I do not know everything that Pythia knows. Tell me about the Omphalos.'
Panos paused a moment; she had the distinct impression that he wasn't sure he should say anything.
Then he made up his mind, and spoke. 'The secret is simple. The vapors only enhance what the Omphalos creates. The Omphalos is the power of Delphi.'
'Yes. Simple.' She made it sound like an interesting fact. Nothing more. But in all her years of study and her work at Delphi, she had never heard such a thing. The Omphalos had always been nebulous, symbolic, never
'Does that mean the authority of Pythia can be taken beyond Delphi if we have the Omphalos?'
'The navel of the world is wherever the Omphalos is.' Dorian crossed her arms, and leaned against the table. 'Panos, I have so much to remember. Tell me more about the Omphalos. Where did it come from?'
He pointed his index finger skyward. 'It was a gift from Apollo himself.'
She raised her eyes as if the gods inhabited the rafters. 'You mean the Omphalos fell from the sky and landed here at Delphi?'
He stared at the stone tablets on the table for well over a minute before answering. 'That is another secret.'
She waited expectantly for him to continue. 'I would like to answer yes, but the truth is that it fell elsewhere, and a messenger of Apollo brought it here, to the sacred place where the gases were rising from the ground.'
Probably a meteorite, Dorian thought. It made sense
that such a stone would be worshiped, and the fact that it had not fallen right where the vapors were rising made it even more believable. She smiled confidently. 'We will get the Omphalos. But now the king is coming.'
'Yes. And you must speak to him. He needs to under stand who you are. He must accept it.' She nodded solemnly.
'I know you will sway him.' His words were gentle, soothing, but he was still uncomfortable in her presence, and stared at the table as he spoke. 'Yes, and I already sense what Pythia will say.' He slowly shifted his gaze. His eyes gave him away. He was hoping she would give him a hint.
'I'll tell you what I already know,' she began. 'Soon the world will recognize that the Oracle of Delphi is alive. All the world will look to the Oracle for hope, and the power of Greece will be magnified a hundredfold.'
Panos smiled broadly. 'And Pythia will tell this to the king.' Her eyes blinked rapidly. 'Yes, and more.' She took the stonemason by the arm and led him to the door, all the while whispering, telling him far more than he had expected to hear.
Panos sipped his retsina, and listened to Doumas. It was early afternoon and only a couple of other tables in the taverna were occupied. They were seated in the same booth where they had been when Jones swaggered over to them the other night, and now the foreigner was on his mind again. The man was a problem, potentially a serious one.
Doumas, unfortunately, didn't see it that way. A fat intellectual, all paunch and jowls, he was more committed to ideas than action. 'I don't know what Grigoris was thinking, but you've got to control him. He almost killed Jones. What's worse is that Belecamus suspects it was no accident.'
Doumas's double chin was shaking as he spoke; he reminded Panos of an overweight turkey. He wanted to tell him that he was spineless, that he'd failed to deal with Jones, but instead he acted surprised. 'How do you know that?'
'Because she found me arguing with Grigoris in the stable. He actually pulled a knife on me so I wouldn't take her another rope.'
Panos poured himself another glass of retsina from the bottle on the table. 'Did she see the knife or hear anything that was said?'
'I don't think so. She was in a hurry. But she knew we were arguing.'
Panos cast a look of annoyance at the occupants of one of the other tables. They were foreigners, three men and a woman. They were talking loudly, and spoke English. The woman, in particular, had an abrasive voice. He wished they would leave. They shouldn't be here, not in the taverna, not in Delphi. Not now.
'There is something I don't understand. If the rope broke, why is Jones still alive?'
Doumas looked exasperated. 'He got lucky.'
Panos thought a moment. He knew he should tell Doumas that he would control Grigoris, but the truth was he was out of control. 'I will talk to my son. He should not have threatened you. He will apologize. I promise.'
Doumas didn't look satisfied. Too bad. 'Now, tell me something. What is the connection between Jones and Belecamus?'
Doumas smiled, a sly smile that said he should know what it was. 'She likes younger foreign men. What else can I say?'
So that was it. Now Panos was more certain than ever that Jones must be quickly eliminated. He could only be trouble; he could slow the transformation. It was time to put Doumas to the test. 'One way or another Jones
