“It was stupid of you to separate,” I snapped. “You and Keller together could have fought them off.”

Jim accepted the rebuke without comment; he knew it was prompted by frayed nerves.

“Keller didn’t go. Your father came back while we were searching the house. He went toward the village to look for you.”

“He wouldn’t be much help anyway,” I said bitterly.

Some of the women were piling up stones on the paving to the right of the fire. The structure was long and low-as long as an outstretched human body.

Jim turned on his side, raising himself on one elbow. He started to speak. I cut him short.

“Look!”

The high priestess had arrived.

The flames were burning high and bright; I could see her clearly. She didn’t look very happy. The golden diadem that crowned her black hair was slightly askew, her clothes were rumpled, and I had a feeling that she wouldn’t be there except for the escort that hemmed her in. I recognized one of the brawnier women: Helena, the wife of Angelos, the hotelkeeper.

When Kore caught sight of us, she pushed her guard of honor aside and ran toward us. They made no move to stop her. She dropped down on the ground next to me, her ample bosom heaving with haste and agitation.

“They said they would bring you, but I did not think you would be so stupid to be caught,” she panted.

“Let’s not start out criticizing our behavior,” Jim growled. “This whole thing is your fault. I’m glad you seem to be coming to your senses, but it’s a little late.”

“They are mad,” Kore moaned, clutching at her hair and knocking the diadem even farther askew. “It was a game, a little game… Oh, yes, I pretended to believe, at times I pretended so well I almost did believe. But something has gone wrong, they are not in my control now. Never would I permit such happenings-”

“No sacrifices?” Jim asked.

Kore shrugged.

“A chicken, a goat…” She must have heardmy gasp of released breath; she glanced at me, and grimaced in sympathy. “Ah, the poor children-you did not think…? No, no, there is no danger to you. This is bad, wrong, but it is not what you fear. They wish only to see the Sacred Marriage consummated.”

My head turned stiffly, as if on a pivot, toward the low stone structure the women had built. It was long enough for a human body, certainly-and wide enough for two. The women had spread it with an embroidered cloth and were now decorating the structure with branches and wilted wildflowers.

I turned back to stare at Kore. She was still babbling.

“…then we kill the goats, one for each, and it is over. That is all.”

“I’m not going to sit here and watch them slaughter some poor little goats,” I said. I didn’t dare look at Jim.

“You’re crazy,” he said, in a strangled voice. “Crazier than she is, worrying about goats, when-If you think I am going over there in front of forty staring women and-No way!”

“You’d rather die?” I inquired sweetly. “That’s my line. Only I wouldn’t rather die.”

“Trust a woman to turn any crisis into a personal insult,” Jim said. “That’s not the problem, and you damn well know it.”

“We could pretend,” I said. I was feeling a little giddy now that the danger I had feared seemed to be without foundation.

“Maybe you could,” Jim said.

“No,” I said, watching Helena carefully arranging wilted blossoms across the foot of the stone couch. “I guess I couldn’t. Kore, you’ve got to do something. Talk them out of it.”

“There’s a knife in my pocket,” Jim said urgently. “Cut me loose.”

“You make such fuss,” Kore said petulantly. “Such a little thing! You are lovers, young and strong. Why can you not-”

“Kore!” I said emphatically.

She wasn’t as carefree as she pretended; the firelight reflected from the perspiration that covered her face. With a movement that was half shrug, half shiver, she spread out her flowing skirts and under their cover began to fumble in Jim’s pocket.

The process seemed to take forever. Apparently the high priestess was supposed to do some writhing around; except for a few casual glances, the women paid no attention to us. Kore cut the ropes on Jim’s feet and was reaching for the ones that bound his arms when one of the women called out. She was carrying a load of twigs toward the fire; now she stopped, pointing toward the sky. To my incredulous relief I saw a star.

“Look,” I said. “The air is clearing. Maybe…”

“The wind has changed.” Jim struggled to a sitting position. “What a piece of luck! That should blow the clouds away from the island, out to sea.”

“Tell them the gods have changed their minds,” I said to Kore. “Isn’t that a good omen? Tell them!”

“I try.” Kore got to her feet.

“Damn it, finish this job first,” Jim demanded, squirming.

Kore paid no attention. She was still holding his knife when she raised her arms and called out in a high, shrill voice. The women stopped work to listen. Some of them seemed to be impressed by her arguments. They hesitated, glancing uncertainly at one another. But the general opinion among the hard-core members seemed to be that the evidence was inconclusive.

Kore sat down again and went back to work on the ropes. “They say no,” she reported.

“So I gathered. Hurry up, will you?” Jim’s voice sounded strained. “I have a feeling…”

I had it too-the queasy, quavery shaking of the entrails that was becoming only too familiar. The women had hoped to summon the gods and they had succeeded in arousing the greatest of them all.

The ground began to rock gently. Then the sky to the north caught fire. A column of flame shot up amid a roar of erupting gas. In the livid, unearthly glare every blade of grass, every twig stood out as if outlined in fire.

The women broke. I don’t know whether it was superstition or natural fear that made them flee; most of them had families, and they knew what might follow. Or perhaps they interpreted the spectacular demonstration as a sign that the gods weren’t pleased with the proceedings.

A few of the toughest women lingered. Helena was one of them. A glowing lump of magma struck the ground behind her; she glanced at it and then looked at us. Her expression turned me cold, and in the extremity of the moment it seemed to me that I could read her mind. Maybe the gods were getting impatient because the sacrifice was delayed.

Kore was crawling around on the ground, trying to find the knife, which she had dropped in her terror. Jim was struggling, trying to free himself. Helena was stalking toward us, glaring. Redhot stones were falling. Then, through the chaos, a voice rose, in a bellow whose volume made it impossible to identify the speaker.

“Police!” Kore gasped. “It is the police!”

“It can’t be,” Jim gasped back; he was still struggling. “There aren’t any-Kore!”

But Kore was gone. I had never seen her move so quickly. The few remaining women had dispersed too. We were alone in the clearing. And the rocks were still falling, red-hot coals of magma from the tormented entrails of the volcano. I was struggling too-a senseless action, but I couldn’t help it, it was horrible to be unable to move amid the hail of molten debris. A stone hit the ground six feet away, spattering fragments. One of them stung my leg. I was screaming-I’m not ashamed to admit it-and my eyes were shut tight.

When I opened them again, it was like waking from tormented sleep to the reassurance of reality. The clearing was utterly peaceful. The stars shone down, blurred by lingering dust particles, but serene and steadfast. Then I saw Jim and I knew the nightmare wasn’t over.

His final struggle to free himself had succeeded. His wrists were scraped raw, but his hands were unbound; they rested, lax and empty, on the dusty ground. Dust grayed his hair as he lay face down. There was no sign of the rock that had struck him.

There was no rock, because he had not been hit by a rock.