"Oh, nonsense!" Kassandra said. "If they are as stupid and jealous of their power as all that, why would anyone serve them at all?"

"Do you, who are sworn to serve the Gods, not fear them at all?" Andromache asked.

"I fear the Gods," Kassandra said. "Not what men say they are."

In the Sunlord's house, the serpents - so Phyllida told her when Kassandra went to see her charges - seemed unusually disturbed. Some of them withdrew and would not come to be handled or even bathed, others were drowsy and sluggish. As she went from one to the other, trying to decide what was troubling them, she remembered the earthquake when Meliantha had died. Was this warning of just such another blow from the hand of Poseidon? I should send a message to the palace, she thought; but when she had last spoken there in prophecy they had mocked and taunted her, and Priam had forbidden her to speak. They would not believe me if I did send a warning, she thought. And then she knew, without the shadow of doubt, that she must not refuse to hear the voice which sent her the warning. Not that she could do anything to avert the hand of whatever God might send the earthquake, but that some of the worst of its fury might be averted. Distraught, she caught up a cloak and cried to Phyllida to try and soothe the serpents in whatever way she could.

Phyllida had put her own son and Honey to bed, each of them hugging a restless snake. As Kassandra bent to caress each of the children, her mind filled with pictures of the roof collapsing; she swiftly gave orders that they should have a bed made up in the courtyard, where if any building should fall, they would not be crushed beneath it.

Then she ran into the courtyard and cried out:

"O Lord Apollo! Hold off the hand of thy brother who shakes the Earth! Thy serpents have given me your warning; let all your servants hear!"

People came running out at her cries; Khryse demanded, "What is happening? Are you ill? Are you smitten by the hand of the God?"

Kassandra fought to control the intolerable shaking of her body. She struggled to speak rationally, make her words even.

"The serpents in the Sunlord's house have given me warning," she shouted, knowing that she sounded distraught, or worse; "as they did when Meliantha died. They are restless and trying to escape; the earth will shake before morning. Whatever is precious must be rescued; and none should sleep beneath a roof this night, lest it fall upon them."

"She is mad," Khryse said. "We have known for many years that she raves in prophecy."

"All the same," said one of the elder priests, "whatever she may or may not know of the Gods, in Colchis she learned the ways of serpent-lore from a mistress of that art. If the serpents have given her warning—"

Charis commanded, "The warning is given; we may not disregard it. Do what you will, or suffer the consequences; as for me and mine, I will make my bed under the open sky which will not fall upon us yet, at least."

Overhead it was already dark; torches were brought and the priestesses went quickly about the task of removing out of doors anything that might be endangered by the falling of stone or walls. Khryse still grumbled; it was to his advantage, Kassandra knew, to have it thought that nothing she said was true.

She ran toward the gates. "Open the doors," she cried. "I go to warn the folk of the city, and Priam's palace!"

"No!" Khryse cried out. "Stop her." He stepped toward her, and reached out to grab her arms, to prevent her forcibly from leaving the temple. "If warning must be given, sound the alarm; that will bring the folk out of their houses without making it seem that we are all God-smitten and distraught without reason except a foolish girl's dreams."

"Touch me at your peril! I go as the Gods determined, to warn them—"

Her cry shocked him enough that he let her go, and she darted through the door before he could stop her. Once in the street, she screamed at the top of her voice:

"Take heed! The serpents of the Sunlord have given warning; the earth will shake; take such shelter as ye can find! Let none sleep beneath stone roofs, lest they fall!"

People, roused by her cries, came flooding out of the doors; driven by a terrible urgency, she ran on, calling out her warning over and over. She heard behind her cries and shouts, some saying, "Hark to the warning of Apollo's priestess," and others grumbling, "She is cursed by the God; why should we believe her?"

It was as if she were filled with fire; she was driven, burning with the heat of the warning that flamed and raged within her. She fled down the streets, shrieking her warning over and over again. When she came to awareness of where she was, she was standing in the forecourt of the palace; her throat raw, and a dozen or more of the palace folk were standing and staring at her. Hoarsely she gasped out her tale.

"Let none sleep under a roof; the God will shake the land and buildings will fall - will fall - Helen, your children - Paris—" she grabbed his shoulders; he thrust her away roughly.

"Enough of this! I swear, Kassandra, I have heard too much of your evil prophecies! I will silence you with my own hands—"

His hands clasped around her neck; her consciousness wavered and almost with relief she felt the hovering darkness take her in a great burst of light exploding somewhere inside her head.

Her throat ached; she put her hand weakly to it. A gentle voice said, "Lie still. Take a little of this."

She sipped at the wine, coughed and choked, but the insistent hand stayed until she swallowed again. It cleared her head; she was lying on the flagstones, and her head felt as if it had been cloven with an axe. Aeneas bent over her and said, "It's all right. Paris tried to choke you, but Hector and I stopped him. If anyone can be called mad—"

"But I must speak with him," she insisted. "It is his children -Helen's—"

I'm sorry," Aeneas said, "Priam has ordered all the palace folk to bed; he says you have disturbed them all too many times and has forbidden anyone to listen to you. But if it is any comfort to you, I have ordered Creusa to sleep out in the courtyard with the baby; and I think Hector has heeded you, too, for he says whatever you may or may not know of the ways of the Gods, you know the ways of serpents. Now drink a little more of this and let me take you back to the Sunlord's house. Or if you will, you may stay here and share a bed with Creusa and the baby."

She wanted to weep at the love in his voice; she knew it was this, and not any great belief in her warning, which had prompted him to this kindness. She got to her feet, feeling as if every bone in her body had been beaten with wooden cudgels. "I must go back," she said, "and see to the folk in the temple, and the serpents, and my daughter—"

"Ah, yes, Creusa told me you had a little girl. A foundling, I suppose?"

"Yes, as it happens; but how did you know?"

"I know you too well to imagine you would ever disgrace your family by having a child outside of honorable marriage," he said, and she thought: Even my own mother did not trust me as much as that.

"Well, then, will you walk up with me?"

"Gladly," he said, "but you ran out without your cloak. Let me fetch you one or you will be cold." He brought her a long thick garment which she had seen Creusa wear, and she wrapped herself up in it. The night had grown chilly, and even in the heavy cloak she shivered, less from cold than from some subtle danger which remained in the air. It was as if far beneath the ground she could hear the very earth groaning, a heaviness which weighed intolerably on her mind and heart. She could hardly summon the strength and will to put one foot before another, and she leaned on his arm; then when he bent to kiss her she moved away.