Free Lost in the Labyrinth by Patrice Kindl Page A

spiced meats, delicate pastries, and platters of fruit.
    The array of balconies around the court were crammed to overflowing. Here and there I could see a familiar face—those places were reserved for people of wealth and influence. Up on the roofs and lining the walls of the actual Bull Court were the common people. They would stand in the grilling sun without food or water for hours today Some would faint from heat and thirst and be carried away, allowing others to push forward and take their places. Those in the Bull Court itself were in some danger; the bull occasionally charged the audience. Yet in spite of all this there were always more than could be accommodated. Tomorrow those lucky enough to be present would go home to their villages basking in reflected glory.
    In contrast to yesterday, the throng was a blaze of color and fanciful design. Some of the costumes worn were like old friends—I had seen them year after year—but others were new to me, made especially for this occasion. I scanned the crowd, seeking out past favorites and new creations. I laughed to see a man dressed in gray with the mask of a hippopotamus, and then admired a woman with a headdress fashioned like a grove of trees with little silver birds swinging from the limbs. The men wore their most richly embroidered kilts and robes of many hues today, and any woman who could afford a ceremonial dress had it on.
    I was dressed in ceremonial attire myself for almost the first time. These dresses were different from ordinary clothing in that the bodice was cut down low to the waist to expose the breasts. I had only just made blood sacrifice to celebrate the commencement of my monthly bleeding during the last rainy season, so I was still uncomfortable in women's dress before this great crowd. My breasts were small and pointed, like the teats of a nanny goat. Graia said that they would grow, but that was meager comfort today, feeling that everyone's eyes were upon me.
    The seer Polyidus had been given a seat with my family, I noticed. Neither he nor Glaucus had been improved by their brush with the mysteries of death. Polyidus sat there grinning and bowing and nodding his head at everything that was said, while my little brother capered about, boasting wildly before the servants.
    "Stop, Glaucus," I said, annoyed, as he lurched against me in one of his rough games and nearly tore my dress. "Sit down and be quiet." The monkey Queta—who sat on my lap, securely diapered to prevent her from soiling my clothes—fluffed up her fur and screamed at him.
    Mother drew Glaucus to her. "Darling," she said, stroking his hair.
    The musicians began to play, and slowly the buzzing, rumbling crowd quieted, waiting.
    Ariadne entered first. This was the first Festival of the Bulls without Acalle, and therefore Ariadne's first appearance in her place. She and I had rehearsed and rehearsed her entrance, yet even knowing what to expect I gave a cry of pleasure at the picture she made. From all around me came a roar of delight.
    She was masked and gowned to represent the Goddess and mounted on a chariot drawn by a pair of cheetahs. The chariot was so fashioned that golden wings appeared to be sprouting from the back of each of the big cats. The effect was to make them look like the griffins that attend the Goddess and draw her conveyances.
    The cheetahs were uneasy. I watched anxiously fearing that they would bolt. Cheetahs can run fast, faster than any horse. They did not flee but sat down and clawed at the straps binding them to the chariot. I bit my lip and longed to take charge of the chariot myself.
    Ariadne, however, had everything under control. She bowed to her mother and to the giant sacral horns at one end of the Bull Court, which represented the Bull in the Earth. Then she turned her attention to the cheetahs. She was firm, wielding her little gilded whip to good effect on their backsides. The procession advanced.
    Behind Ariadne and the cheetahs