Oracle by Jackie French Page B

kept walking. Nikko soon missed the bleating. It had sounded like home. His family’s betrayal was still raw: a knife wound that would reopen many times in the years ahead. But he did, nevertheless, miss what had been familiar.
    The sun hung low and red, turning the road orange, when they turned the final corner. Nikko caught his breath. He felt Thetis shiver in front of him.
    Walls, so vast they must have been built by giants. The palace rose above them all, turrets painted red, wallswhite, columns striped in all colours, everything tinged gold by the sun.
    Men stood on the walls, so far up they looked like children’s dolls. Their javelins seemed thin as threads of goat hair. Above it all sheer cliffs blazed back the sun, as though to yell, ‘Invade me if you dare!’
    ‘Mycenae. The House of the Lion,’ said Orkestres. ‘It will never fall while men remain.’
    The road curved again. It was even wider now. Then suddenly it narrowed between stone walls. The road was no longer cobbles pressed into mud, but great square stones, so closely butted together it seemed like one long rock. Ahead of them a great gate loomed, high enough for a laden cart to pass through, narrow enough, thought Nikko, to stop an army. The great stone of the lintel was carved with two imposing mountain lions rearing against a pillar. The pillar was red. The lions shone golder than the sun.
    The King’s men sounded cheery now. They’re home, thought Nikko, or nearly. He looked across at Orkestres. He too seemed to have relaxed, as though seeing a warm bath and a soft bed ahead of him.
    Guards peered down as they entered the gate. One of their own men saluted, and got a wave in return.
    The narrow road with its tall walls continued. It would be easy to spear anyone down here, thought Nikko, to capture any enemy of the High King.
    All at once they reached two gateways, smaller than the big lion gates. Orkestres turned to go down to the right, with Nikko and Thetis. He waved his hand to their companions. ‘Good rest and good homecoming,’ he called.
    ‘Wait!’ The most senior of the guards ran down to them. ‘All slaves go straight to the palace. You know the rules.’
    Orkestres stared. ‘My good man, these children are only valuable because I can train them. They need to come with me.’
    ‘The children are tributes, same as barley or goats would have been,’ said the man stubbornly. ‘They’re slaves like any others. The Chamberlain will decide what the King wants with them.’
    ‘What does the King need most? A couple of untrained slaves, or acrobats to make him smile?’
    ‘Not my business to decide. Nor yours.’
    Nikko put his arms around Thetis. She felt cold, and very still.
    ‘Very well,’ said Orkestres shortly. He took Thetis’s hand, then Nikko’s, as though to stop the other man leading them away. ‘I will see the Chamberlain myself. Will that suit you?’
    The man nodded.
    The three of them turned left, and began to walk along the paving stones, up toward the shadows of the palace.

CHAPTER 11
    It was growing dark—darker still in the shadows of the walls. On either side Nikko could see through open doorways and windows into rooms, lit by hearth fires; people lying on their sleeping platforms, or eating final hunks of bread. His stomach rumbled. They had missed the midday meal so they could get to Mycenae by dark.
    Some of the rooms were dark, with no fires lit. But every building was larger than any in their village; many larger even than the hall where they had stayed on the way, rising up higher than any house he’d ever seen.
    The smells were strange too. Along with the normal smells of people—meat being grilled, fresh bread (his stomach rumbled again)—were other scents: animals he had never smelled before and fragrances more powerful than any from the wildflowers on the mountain back home, though there were no flowers to be seen.
    The road curved past the palace, its white stone walls still shining high in