Oracles of Delphi - Chapters 1 - 6

Menandros shuddered, and turned to spit to ward off the evil eye. "That is a horrifying and yet strangely fascinating idea."  

"It is forbidden in Greece," Praxis said. 

"Praxis does not look favorably on the idea of Aithera poking about dead bodies with sharp instruments," Theron added. 

"It is not an appropriate pastime for a respectable Athenian matron. It puts her at risk for discovery and ridicule-and punishment for impiety." Praxis looked directly at Aithera as he spoke. "But my mistress does not listen to me."  

"Praxis," Aithera said with a sympathetic smile, "you are too like a lion protecting his pride. But you forget. I am not your lioness or your cub." 

"More like a lowly stable boy trying to manage a stubborn ass," he grumbled under his breath. 

She ignored him and turned to Theron. "Besides more straw and dirt in her hair, her head shows no sign of any obvious mortal injury. The marks on her face lead me to believe she was slapped hard, but no one dies from being slapped or there would be few respectable matrons left in Athens." She didn't look up to see how that comment had gone over, but she suspected Theron would be repressing a smile and Praxis would be sporting a scowl. Since her father's death and her unfortunate marriage to Lycon, Praxis had been like a mother hen, hovering over her constantly. Whether to protect her from Lycon, to keep her company, or to make sure she behaved like a 'respectable Athenian matron,' she didn't know. But his mood had soured and he seemed to have misplaced the sense of adventure they shared while growing up. "Without turning her over, we have little to use to extrapolate cause of death. Now, we know that bruising does not occur after the body's animating spirit has left the body for its journey to Hades, so we can assume she was in some sort of struggle before she died. But with no blood-" 

"Menandros!"  

Aithera, Praxis and Theron looked up to see two men enter the theater trailed by a host of attendants. The priests of Apollon. They wore the trailing ornate robes and carried themselves with the air of authority typical of the priestly class. They were at once impressive and not a little gaudy. 

"Where is the body and who are these people?" The younger of the two men demanded.  

"Philon, Kleomon, it's here, on the altar," Menandros stepped aside. "And these are my guests from Athens," he continued while the two priests walked slowly around the body, examining it from every angle.  

"I want you to meet my old friend, Theron of Thessaly. You have no doubt heard of him. He has traveled the world, served kings, marched to war, studied mathematics in Persia, natural philosophy in Athens, and-" 

"Tutored little girls." The younger priest smirked as he turned his back on the body to size up Theron and Aithera. "We meet at last, Theron of Thessaly. From what I hear, your reputation for observing and reading into the hearts, minds and motivations of men appears to be unparalleled. A diviner of men. Tell me, what brings you to Delphi?" 

"Philon," Theron answered, "first let me say that it is my honor to meet the Priests of Apollon, even if it is at the scene of such a terrible crime. As to what brings us to Delphi, we arrived last night on a mission of a personal nature." 

"Personal, hmph." The older priest, Kleomon, looked at Theron as if he carried a strange disease. "Isn't it an odd coincidence that you, of all people, arrive in Delphi on the very night this young woman turns up dead? And," he cast another disparaging glance at Aithera, "what is a woman doing here?"  

Aithera and Praxis exchanged glances. What did he mean by insinuating a connection between the timing of their trip and the murder? And what did he mean by 'you, of all people'? Aithera pulled her mantle down over her forehead to shield her eyes and studied the old man.