But that couldn't be helped. The important thing now was to act quickly; to meet and defeat the Minotaur so that he could get Ariadne out of the palace before it was destroyed. He checked his watch: nearly eight already. It was incredible how fast time slipped away. Back up the stairs and through the tank-room to the Queen's Megaron. Then out the light-well by which he'd entered, and through the gathering dark to the Shrine of Oracles. Because that was where he'd have to start; he knew that from the things he'd heard as prisoner. The entrance to the Labyrinth, the way to the Minotaur, was through some passage in the shrine. Only there was a guard on the first entrance he tried, and on the second also. In ten minutes he knew the truth: a mouse couldn't creep into the shrine tonight without being run through by a Sudani spearman. So, he had no choice but to try a different route, the route of legend. First, he'd have to locate Ariadne, even though it demanded another hair-raising human fly act, clambering down a pitch-black light-well. Then, through her, he'd reach Daedalus, demand a thread, plunge into the Labyrinth. Only that wasn't right. The legend said Theseus did that. Yet Theseus was drunk, dead drunk, back there in Ariadne's quarters. Or was he? It dawned on Burke, then, that nothing but delirium could account for such confusion. How else could he be flying and falling at once? What other explanation would take in such a strange, shifting mixture of past and present? Then, suddenly, he became aware of the cold stone beneath his back. In a flash, he remembered how Theseus had trapped him ... forced him into the sewer ... dragged him to the Labyrinth's one secret entrance ... struck him down.... CHAPTER VII Consciousness returned to Burke with dragging steps. Perhaps that was because the place in which he now lay was so dark. It stayed that way even when his bruised jaw and aching head told him for certain that this was reality, not delusion. No matter how he strained his eyes, he could see absolutely nothing. Not that it mattered. Because he knew where he was, beyond mistaking. His nose told him, picking up the acrid scent that had been so all-pervasive in the Shrine of Oracles. Only here, it was worse. Here, it rose sharp and biting as the very smell of death. And that meant he could be nowhere but in the Labyrinth itself! The thought knotted Burke's stomach. Yet when he strove to move, his bonds held him, unyielding. Theseus had done this job well, Burke decided. With no trouble at all, it could spell doom for him. Which brought up another question: what time was it? By the very fact that he remained alive, he assumed it still wasn't midnight; that Knossos hadn't been destroyed. But even if he'd blacked out only for two or three minutes, the fatal moment couldn't be far off ... not more than half an hour, at most.