The Stone by the Stream (Part 3)

Cynthia passed the evening and the next day anxious with anticipation. What sort of help could she expect from Agatha? What was the meaning of the acolyte’s warning about curiosity? Would she be able to secure an audience with one of the temple priestesses?

And, though she tried to avoid the thought, like a spider spinning a web it kept returning to the same spot: why had Agatha been so interested in her parents?

At dinner and at breakfast the next day, she agonized over whether or not to ask her mother and father what they knew about the stone and the stream. The thought distracted her as she helped put her sister Aglaia to bed that night and when she got her baby brother Jonas dressed in the morning. It was on her mind as she tended to the fire, prepared dinner and breakfast, and gathered water from the town well.

But she didn’t know how to bring up the subject when she thought of her father’s stern eyes or her mother’s persistent questions. So she hesitated. And the more she hesitated, the more uncertain she was about how to even mention the subject.

Until the hour just before sunset came and it was time for her to head to the clearing to meet up with Agatha. She told her mother she was going to meet her friend Ariadne just over the hill, because she had a birthday coming up and they were going to do some planning together. Cynthia’s mother wasn’t happy to hear this at such short notice, but she told her daughter to take a change of clothes in case she had to stay with Ariadne overnight.

“It may well be dark by the time you get there,” she said.

Cynthia gathered a change of clothes and rushed out the front door, where she met her father standing out in the field.

“Where are you headed?” he asked.

“I’m going to Ariadne’s, Papa.”

“I just talked to Ariadne’s father this afternoon,” Ariston said. “He said she has a fever… I don’t think they’ll be wanting any visitors tonight.”

“Oh Papa, I won’t be there long. I just need to get to the clearing before sunset — ”

“Clearing?”

“… I mean I just need to meet up with Ariadne before sunset, so…”

“Cynthia…”

Ariston’s eyes were narrowed in an expression of cautious concern, although the faint curl of his lip suggested a different emotion was also at play. Cynthia looked up at his bearded face the way a man might look at a mountain or a bolt of lightning.

“Please, Papa,” she whispered.

Ariston scratched his head, nodded. “All right, little one. You go ahead and do what you need to do at… Ariadne’s house. Oh, and Cynthia?”

“Yes?”

“Be careful.”

Cynthia promised she would and started off toward the clearing, careful to keep to the path to Ariadne’s house until she was out of sight of home. She couldn’t believe her luck after she’d slipped and mentioned the clearing. She walked as fast as her feet could carry her. Up the hill and down the path through the forest she wandered, reaching the clearing at the time when the light grew dim and the shadows grew long.

A light breeze ran through the clearing, combining the rustle of leaves with the gentle gurgle of the stream as it went by. Cynthia circled around the edge of the clearing, touching each of the trees on the way and feeling their bark, dipping her hand into the running water, and spiraling her way to the stone at the center.

No sign of Agatha yet.

Cynthia sat lying against the stone, facing toward the stream and the setting sun. She felt a thrill in her fingers and spine simply from being in contact with the stone — was it this feeling that had made her curious enough to ask about it at the temple?

No sign of naiads beside the stream, either. Still…

Maybe it was the slanting rays of the dying sun shining through the leaves. Maybe it was the song of the stream as it trickled among the rocks. Maybe it was the touch or even the mere presence of the stone, or the rumors of naiads, or any number of things, or maybe it was just Cynthia’s eager imagination. But the whole clearing gave her a giddy feeling, light-headed the way she’d been in the temple’s main chamber. Yet more powerful, as if the place were touched by the gods and still carried their mark.

But as time passed, so too did Cynthia’s excitement.

What was taking Agatha so long?

Minutes passed. Hours passed. The sun had long sunk beneath the horizon.

Cynthia shook her head. How could she have been so stupid? Obviously the woman had only told her to meet up out here because she wanted to get Cynthia out of the temple. She’d never had any intention of meeting up with her out here. And the longer she waited out here beside this stupid stone, the stupider she would feel… and the later she would get back home.

At last Cynthia leaned her weight against the stone and stood up, stretching her muscles, sore from staying in the same position for so long. But when she looked up she saw something she didn’t expect.

Accompanied by four armed men, Agatha walked into the clearing.

With a relaxed air, she said, “It’s good to see you, Cynthia. I told you I’d turn up.”