TIMEWALKER [wlw]

t h r e e

- L -

When I awake, blinking my eyes open, the room is empty. For a moment I startle, my mind reeling at the unfamiliar surroundings. My stomach drops, heartbeat quickening, as I remember falling through time into the city of Troy. Troy.

Sunlight streams through the crude squares cut into the clay walls, illuminating Helen's empty mat. Her blankets are rolled into a neat bundle, hiding any evidence of her presence.

Her promise from yesterday flits through my mind, spoken into the black of the night, "I won't be here when you awake, but I will return here to sleep. After this night of calm, I cannot lie with Paris."

Unbidden, my fingers dart out to touch the woven fabric. The cool brush of straw greets my touch; her warmth long absent.

I groan lightly, stretching my arms out, before curling back into my blankets. The bright sunrise beckons me, even as my eyes begin to drift shut. Soon, the heat will seep through the walls and cling to my skin, clogging the air with tendrils of warmth. Reluctantly, I pull myself up, wrapping the blanket around my shoulders.

I wrinkle my nose at the sight of my peplos, ruffled from a night of discomfort. A little hesitant, I sniff at the fabric, examining it for any stains. Thankfully, I don't smell eye-wateringly bad, and my peplos is reasonably clean.

The sandals I used yesterday are lying beside my mat, the thin leather belt piled on top of them. I slip my feet into the sandals, trying my best to elegantly wrap the straps around my ankles. I wince lightly at the knots, but without Helen's help, I don't have much other choice.

I bundle up my blankets as best I can, wary of the threats upon Helen's freedom.

Discomfort creeps beneath my skin at the thought of going downstairs without Helen's presence accompanying me, but silence cloaks the house; the soft murmur of voices absent due to the late hour.

I move over to the ladder, my movements soft, and step down the fine rungs. In the daylight, the white walls push each other apart, caverning over my head. Each room feels larger than the last, with nooks and crannies hidden in every corner.

As I suspected, Castor and Pollux aren't here. If I didn't know better, I would suspect the house to be abandoned; the mats layering the room above and the small piles of blankets are the only evidence of somebody living here.

Adjacent to the room with the ladder is the main room of the house. The wooden table where Castor had perched last night is empty, the two stools tipped over as though somebody was in a haste to leave.

A frown tugs at my eyebrows, and I follow the room through into a kitchen. Pots and pans are stacked neatly in one corner, and a loaf of bread has been placed artfully on a board of wood in the centre of the worktop.

A windchime clinks on a nail, softly tinkling in the gentle breeze easing into the room.

I find a blunt knife by the bread and hack off a slice. At first, I nibble hesitantly at the crust, but then hunger takes over and I scoff down the food gratefully.

With no concept of time available to me, I glance out of the window, examining the streets outside. Due to the house's location on the outskirts of town, the only noise is the occasional clattering of a cart upon the cobblestones, or the shouting of a man straying too far from the marketplace.

I look up to the sun, gauging how high it sits in the sky. From a novice's rough estimate, it appears to be an hour-or-so before mid-day. When the sun straddles the city, Cassandra will be waiting for me in the marketplace. Luckily, my movements should be disguised by the bustling of people making their way through the city.