“My God.” Jim got to his feet. He pointed at Keller. “You were shot at yesterday afternoon. Was that-”

“Nein, aber nein.” Keller’s eyes had a queer shine as he looked sideways at Jim. “I am not such a fool. I have taken precautions. A statement, to be opened at my death. He has the strongest reasons to keep me alive.”

“You stubborn fool, can’t you see the situation has changed?” Jim shouted. “Maybe your precious statement has protected you all these years, but it isn’t doing the job now. He’s going to kill someone-you, Kore, Sandy-I can’t tell, I don’t know all the facts!”

“Let them kill each other,” Keller said listlessly. “What does it matter?”

“You won’t get any more out of him,” I said to Jim. “Why are we standing here playing Sherlock Holmes? We’ve got to stop him.”

Before Jim could answer, a ghastly quavering shriek rang along the dark hall.

“It’s Kore,” I gasped. “Quick, Jim.”

The sound aroused Keller from his apathy. He jumped up and ran out of the room, calling Kore’s name. Jim went after him, as another, fainter cry shivered the air. Jim yelled at me, something about staying where I was; but I couldn’t remain passive while a cry like that one assaulted my ears.

The result would have been the same, whether I remained alone in the room or was alone somewhere else in the house. I made it a little easier for them, that was all. But I didn’t expect that particular kind of danger. A howling outraged mob couldn’t have broken into the house unheard.

When they surrounded me, I was taken by surprise. I got out one scream, but it was quickly stifled by calloused work-hardened hands-a web of hands and arms, wrapping around me like the tentacles of an octopus, dark bodies pinning my arms to my sides. One of the hands thrust something against my nose. The sharp fumes made me sneeze, but not for long. I pitched forward into blackness, and into the eager, waiting arms of the women of Zoa.

II

I awoke to the worst nightmare I had ever had-the worst, because it wasn’t a dream. Yet there was an air of unreality about the scene, and the fact that I was alone made me wonder whether I might not still be dreaming. For a while I wavered back and forth between the two theories.

I had a terrible headache and my stomach felt queasy. I was sitting on the ground; hard pebbles pressed into my posterior. My physical sensations suggested that I must be awake. But when I tried to move, I couldn’t, and immobility is one of the signs of nightmare. It took me a while to figure out that I was tied to a tree. My feet were tied too. The ropes were padded; when I pulled against them I felt no pain, only constriction. I tried to squint at the ropes on my ankles, but I couldn’t see clearly; my eyes took some time to focus, and the shadow of the tree enveloped me.

The immediate source of light was a fire burning in the middle of a wide-open space. The sky overhead was a ghastly unnatural crimson. Without stars I had no sense of direction, but I knew where I was. I recognized it from an earlier nightmare. Low, uneven ridges of ashy rock surrounded a flat space about an acre in area. The worn, stone-paved surface was the one on which my bare feet had bruised themselves, dancing, the night before. A rehearsal, no doubt, for this evening’s performance.

The sickness in my stomach wasn’t solely the result of the drug they had used on me. I would almost have welcomed a band of shrieking maenads; the crimson silence, broken only by the faroff rumblings of the tortured earth, was worse than any human threat. My mind was quite clear-too clear. I was remembering a lot of facts I would rather have forgotten.

Score one for Jim. He had been right, and Kore had been training me for the leading role in her lunatic drama. Even the tree-it wasn’t much of a tree, all gnarled and straggly, but trees and their man-made derivatives, pillars and columns, were sacred to the goddess in ancient Crete. The Minoans sacrificed bulls and let their blood flow onto the pillars. I looked around the little amphitheater. No bulls. No sacrificial animals visible-except one.

I made myself relax. I had been straining uselessly against the bonds, and all I was doing was tiring myself. Whoever had tied me up had been considerate of my comfort, but she had done a thorough job. My hands were free, but my elbows were pinned by the ropes that held me half erect. I couldn’t reach behind me to undo the knots there, and even if I could contort myself into a position where I could touch the ropes on my ankles, untying my feet wouldn’t do me much good.

The emptiness was getting on my nerves. Where were they? Howling along the hillside in pursuit of some other prey? The maenads had done that in ancient Greece, and in the still more ancient homelands from which that particularly gory cult had come. The chase culminated in the diasposmoi, when the young male victim who represented the god was caught. It was amazing that I remembered the word, but I knew why my mind had produced it-I didn’t want to think of the English equivalent. But I couldn’t keep it down. Dismemberment. And worse. Ritual cannibalism, to absorb the qualities of the god.

It is surprising how clever one becomes under pressure. I didn’t want to remember any of this. I couldn’t have remembered it if I had been facing an exam; but now the words stood out in my mind as if I’d just finished reading them. The Orphic rite, the Mysteries of Eleusis, the Sacred Marriage… I wondered if Kore had included that little item in her agenda. Was that what the women were seeking, a mate for the goddess instead of a victim? They couldn’t kill him if they wanted him to be of any use in the former role.

A big choking lump rose to my throat. It was no use trying to keep cool and telling myself horrible black jokes. This was no joke. The worst of it was not knowing what was in store for me-and for others. I told myself that surely Kore wouldn’t carry the dark rites to their bloody conclusion; a goat or a chicken killed, a wild dance and a lot of wine… But I remembered how easily I had beencaught, and I thought of Jim, almost as vulnerable, with his weakened eyesight and bruised body.

A vast network of lightning scored the sky. I cowered against the tree, closing my eyes. When I opened them again, the western sky was a brighter crimson. I knew what the signs meant. Violent electrical storms had accompanied earlier eruptions, and the red glow was the reflection of red-hot lava against the clouds of smoke and ash. In spite of my terror, something in me responded unwillingly to the majestic violence. Kore couldn’t have chosen a more fitting setting for her play. Nor could I entirely blame the village women for seizing any means possible of propitiating outraged nature. This was enough to turn anyone’s mind.

I pulled my feet up and tried to wriggle around so that I could reach the ropes. I had to do something or I would go crazy thinking. I was still trying to stretch my fingers two inches beyond their proper length when another web of lightning blazed out, followed by a crash that made my ears ache. Thunder, or maybe another eruption; I couldn’t tell. The whole world was going insane.

I didn’t hear them coming. There was no music, no wild chanting. No organization, either; they sauntered down the slope in small groups, two or three of them together. One group was larger. In the middle, prodded along by the sheer number of them, was Jim.

They had wound ropes around him, but his legs were free. The women pushed him across the floor and sat him down-they weren’t rough, I’ll say that for them-and then tied his feet. We sat there looking at each other for a while.

“Are you all right?” Jim asked. “They didn’t hurt you?”

“Not yet,” I said. “How did they catch you?”

“Ambushed me, just outside the villa. As soon as we realized you were missing, we started to look-”