LORD OF THE CROOKED PATHS

PATRICK H. ADKINS

ACE BOOKS, NEW YORK

This book is an Ace original edition, and has never been previously
published.

LORD OF THE CROOKED PATHS

An Ace Book / published by arrangement with the author

PRINTING HISTORY

Ace edition / October 1987

All rights reserved. Copyright © 1987 by Patrick H. Adkins.

Cover art by John Jude Palencar.

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For Alisha, my bright-eyed daughter

INTRODUCTORY NOTE

The Age of the Titans, the elder gods of Greek mythology, was little
known even to the ancient Greeks themselves. Our knowledge of that era
is still more scanty. The only work of appreciable length dealing
directly with it, the Titanomachia, failed to survive the collapse of
classical civilization. What we know of the Titans is drawn from short
summaries in the Theogany of Hesiod and the Bibliotheca of Apollodorus,
and from brief references that must be sifted from works devoted to
other, often nonmythological subjects.

Although a work of fiction, Lord of the Crooked Paths is based upon
extensive mythological research. My purpose has been to shape a new,
fictional story around these scattered fragments, many of which are
quite esoteric and no longer have a true story context of their own. In
the process I have attempted to form a coherent fantasy world from the
sometimes confusing and contradictory elements of Greek mythology. Like
the historical novelist, I have felt free to pick and choose among
conflicting evidence, expand upon tantalizing hints that lack full
documentation, and extrapolate freely within the established confines of
my subject. Nevertheless, accuracy of mythological detail has been my
goal, and I have sought to remain faithful to classical authority
throughout.

The reader's forbearance is requested for any seeming contradictions of
the mythology of the Age of Zeus. The gods willing, these will be
resolved in future volumes. Only one such point need be mentioned here.
The Muses are generally said to be the daughters of Zeus and the
Titaness Mnemosyne (Memory), a genesis that is more allegory than myth.
For this reason and others, I have overruled both Homer and Hesiod in
favor of the nearly as ancient testimony of Mimnermus and Alcman, who
deem them the children of Ouranos and Gaia.

The nature and manner of the gods is based primarily on Homer, while the
milieu of Kronos and the intricacies of divine relationships are drawn
principally from Hesiod. Latin authors have been consulted only to
elucidate matters left unclear by the Greeks. The title is loosely
derived from the Homeric epithet Kronos agkylometes. With a single
exception the names of the gods have been directly transliterated from
the Greek; as an aid to the reader, however, I have partly Latinized
Krios to Crios, that he might not so easily be confused with Koios, his
brother.

--Patrick H. Adkins

ONE

"Come, Kalliope! Melpomene--Thalia, come on!" Metis scowled, tapping her
foot impatiently as she waited for the three Muses to catch up with her
and Lachesis.

For more than half an hour the five goddesses had been making their way
across rugged mountains and rambling foothills, walking with an ease and
suppleness that belied their towering size. They seemed to glide over
the rocky terrain and between the huge fir trees of the mountain
forests. When the trees grew too closely together, they bent them aside.
They drew up the hems of the chitons to step lightly across rivers and
gaping chasms.

For the Muses the journey was a lark; the divine maidens traipsed along,
singing and bantering among themselves. The young goddess Metis, no
longer quite a child but not yet a youth, usually rushed impetuously
ahead. Lachesis, stately and somber as ever, followed at a steady pace,
wrapped in her own thoughts.

"Can't you three come on?" Metis demanded, her dark curls flouncing as
she stamped her foot.

Lachesis had gotten ahead of the others and finally slowed to a stop.
"Is something wrong?" she called down, her voice not quite as
lackadaisical as usual.

Melpomene shook her head and held up a hand to silence them. Metis
shrugged in resignation and began to skip back down the path. A few
moments later Lachesis followed her.

Thalia danced toward them as they reached the group. "Quiet, child, do
try to hold your tongue," she sang without the slightest hesitation,
caressing Metis's cheek with her open hand; "a song is not a song, you
know, until that song is sung!" She twirled gracefully away, continuing
to sing as though there had been no interruption.

Metis folded her arms across her chest and waited with obvious
impatience. Finally Thalia completed her last verse, swept into a
pirouette, and ended with a deep bow. Kalliope and Melpomene, both
laughing, applauded with enthusiasm.

Metis planted her hands firmly on her narrow hips as she turned toward
Melpomene. "You promised to show us something new and interesting," she
said. "You're supposed to be leading us to it, but I'm always in the
lead. And 1 don't even know where we're going!"

Thalia answered before her sister could. "You lead, rash child, because
your feet outpace your brain. A slower pace--"

"You brought your basket," Melpomene interrupted, smiling indulgently.
"If we walk too leisurely, you can distract yourself among the plants
that grow beside the path."

Metis shook her head vigorously. "You go too slow. You keep stopping to
talk and dance--and to sing your untrue songs."

"What's this?" Thalia asked, turning to her sisters in exaggerated
surprise. "Untrue songs, indeed! The child thinks we lie."

"All those things you sing about--they never really happened," Metis
said. "You just make them up."

"Not at all," Kalliope said patiently. "You're simply too young to
understand. We only tell true lies."

"True lies?" Metis grimaced. "How can you tell true--"

Melpomene was holding up her hands to quiet them. "No more, you three.
We'll walk faster, and Metis can search for plants."

Metis clutched her large basket against her stomach. "I always look for
unusual plants when I walk in the woods. I've been looking. I haven't
found any."

"And we always dance and sing in the woods," Thalia said, patting the
child's head.

They began walking again, Melpomene studying the crest of the high,
rounded hill.

"Is it much farther?" Metis asked.

"Hush," Thalia said, leaning toward her confidentially. "You'll only
embarrass Melpomene. She's lost, you know."

Now Kalliope drew toward them, speaking in a mock whisper intended for
Melpomene to hear. "Tell the child the truth, sister. Melpomene does
this all the time. She says, 'Come see what I have found'--won't tell
you what it is, of course, to keep your interest up--and leads you on a
merry chase for hours stacked on end. It makes a fine, droll tale to
tell that night."

"I think the place is near," Melpomene said, pointedly ignoring their
conversation. "We must be quiet now, or risk discovery. We mustn't scare
them away. ..."

"Ah, discovery," Thalia whispered. "That certainly lends an air of
mystery to the affair."

"Scare who away?" Metis demanded. "Who? Tell me!"

Melpomene shook her head. "You must be patient. I promised you something
new, and I won't break my promise. I think you'll find it interesting."

"She's got such a knack for suspense," Thalia said, still pretending to
whisper.

"Whatever this mysterious thing is, at least tell us a little," Kalliope
said. "When did you find it?"

"Yesterday afternoon, on my way back from Mount Helikon."

"Well, it can't be all that interesting," Thalia said, still she'd never
have kept it a secret this long."

Melpomene gave them her most tight-lipped smile. They had reached the
top of the hill. All around them stark peaks and gaping canyons bespoke
the unimaginable age of their world; at the same time laughing streams
and virgin forest proclaimed its eternal youth. Staring out across the
treetops, Melpomene scanned the smaller hills and valleys below, teeming
with life. A lone red deer came down from a hillside forest, while a
saber-tooth stalked it from the concealment of large rocks.

Beyond the farther hills began the moist expanse of the Boiotian plain,
most of which was still covered by early morning fog. Near its edge
herds of antelope and bison had begun to graze. Barely visible, Lake
Kopais glinted dull blue in the distance.

"Yes, I'm right," Melpomene announced. "We aren't far now."

She pointed off to the left, where jagged limestone hills descended
toward the plain. A crystalline stream gleamed among the rocks. On its
way to the lake it broadened, becoming brown and shallow as it crossed a
long, narrow glade rimmed by ash and oak trees.

"Is that where we're going?" Thalia demanded. "If you weren't lost, you
certainly took the most roundabout route possible."

"I wanted to avoid crossing the plain. If we were seen--"

"She was lost!" Thalia began to dance around her sister.

"I was not," Melpomene protested, for the first time becoming genuinely
annoyed at Thalia's playfulness. "I didn't want to cross the plain, and
I didn't know the most direct way here."

"That's what I said. You were lost!"

Melpomene folded her arms across her breasts and refrained from
answering. It took only a few moments for her to regain her normal,
indulgent good nature. "I'd love to bicker the rest of the morning, dear
sister, but we should start walking toward those trees. From here on we
must be very quiet--I know you'll find that a chore, Thalia--and we must
avoid being seen."

Thalia grinned broadly, but before she could reply, Kalliope took her
arm and guided her in the direction Melpomene had indicated.

The goddesses made their way down the rocky slope. By following the
valleys and passes they managed to come to the plain at a point not very
far from the glade. A pride of lions, grunting their disapproval at the
appearance of the towering maidens, retreated at their approach.

Melpomene brought the goddesses to a halt at the edge of an open area.
She held Metis back to keep her from venturing too far into the open,
then drew concealing fog from the plain. It crept toward them in
drifting wisps at first, then in slow, billowing waves. The fog grew
thicker, layer upon layer, completely obscuring the space they must
cross.

Hand in hand, Melpomene led them forward until they crouched behind the
concealment of the tall, thick trees that rimmed the glade. She
dismissed the fog and signaled to the others. Following her example,
they cautiously parted the branches to peer through the foliage.

Metis could see nothing. To get a better view she threw herself CHI the
ground and crawled forward between the boles of the trees. Before her
lay the mud bank of a stream. All along it, at irregular intervals,
vaguely oval mounds protruded from the water and ran up onto the shore.

Metis edged forward on her elbows, making as little noise as she could.
The mounds glistened where the sunlight struck the translucent slime
that coated them, and they heaved with slow, rhythmic movements. She
watched in puzzled fascination for more than a minute before she became
aware of the creatures across the stream.

They were tiny, but perfectly formed--not much bigger than the hand of a
goddess. All were dirty, but some were caked with mud from head to foot.
Much of their bodies was covered with coarse, sparse hair, and in places
the hair sprouted in thick patches.

Ten or fifteen of the creatures were visible across the stream, and now
Metis realized that there were more on her side. Some cracked open
acorns and ate them. A few seemed to be playing. One began making
high-pitched, piping cries as another chased it.

Metis backed out from between the trees to join the other goddesses.

"Well," Melpomene asked, whispering softly, "what do you think of this
strange new thing? An interesting discovery, aren't they?"

"What does it mean?" Metis asked. "Except for being so tiny, they look
just like us."

Melpomene smiled despite herself. "Well, no--not just like us. As far as
I can tell, they're all male."

"And they're filthy," Kalliope said. "They've got ugly hair all over
their bodies and they smell dreadful. I can smell them from here."

"Are they really little?" Metis asked. "I mean, is that their natural
size?"

"I think so. That's how they looked yesterday."

Thalia was studying them, her brows contracted in thought. "Dirty,
smelly little gods," she said finally as she turned toward the others.

"I think they're cute," Metis objected.

"Filthy, hairy little creatures formed in the image of the immortal
gods. Grotesque little godlings, caricatures of the gods--mockeries of
the gods!" Thalia's eyes brightened and

her lips spread into an enormous grin. "And not a female among them. I
love it! It's hilarious!"

Metis was pouting. "I still say they're cute," she insisted. "All they
need is a good bath."

"Look at the one over there," Thalia continued, pointing. "See* how he
walks, watching the ground. He looks like Crios, and the one next to him
could be Koios! Oh, this is a marvelous joke. The gods will never live
it down."

"There's something about, them. . . ." Lachesis said thoughtfully.

"Indeed there is--their odor!" Thalia laughed.

"Quiet," Melpomene warned. "They'll hear us. Keep your voices down."

One of the creatures was wandering toward them in search of acorns. Even
as Melpomene spoke it looked up through an opening in the concealing
leaves and branches. Its eyes grew very round and it began to cry out in
shrill, inarticulate sounds. Kalliope reached for it between the trees.
The creature stumbled backward, falling, and she picked it up by the
feet.

At the first cry the others had disappeared among the rocks and trees
and bushes. Now not one remained in sight.

Melpomene rose to her full height and the others stood up around her.
They gathered to look at the specimen Kalliope had captured. It wriggled
like a fish held by the tail, but as soon as it noticed their huge,
peering faces, it became completely limp.

For nearly a full minute Melpomene stared at it, her head arched to one
side. Finally she said, "Man."

Kalliope and Thalia nodded their immediate agreement.

"What?" Metis asked. "What did you say?"

"This is a man," Melpomene explained. "That's what the creature is
called. Usually we know the right word immediately, without having to
think about it. This time it took a bit longer."

Lachesis repeated the word slowly as she stared at the peculiar man,
which was still dangling upside down from Kalliope's fingers. "It's very
puny. Puny and helpless," she said.

"Let me hold it," Metis pleaded.

Kalliope gently lowered the man into her outstretched hands. Now
Lachesis stood beside the child, searching the tiny form with her eyes.
Melpomene pushed her way between the trees, and the others followed out
to the bank of the stream. They stopped beside one of the mounds. A
section of mud had fallen away near the top. Through the jagged opening
they could see a diminutive, godlike mouth. It gurgled and sucked air.

"This man," Metis said, "is it a god? I mean, is it a little god or ...
or ... only an animal in the shape of a god?"

Melpomene looked down at the tiny form in the child's hands. "It's hard
to imagine that they could truly be gods," she said. "They make me feel
sad, somehow."

"Sad? Why so?" Kalliope asked.

"They're such pitiful creatures. Look at them. Wretched little things .
. . shaped like us, but born of slime. ..."

"They're our brothers," Kalliope said. "We, too, are children of the
earth."

Melpomene smiled wanly. "A poor joke, sister, and a cruel one. By that
logic the grass and the trees and the insects are our brothers and
sisters also."

"They are," Kalliope said. "Less fortune than we, but still kin, even if
they have been born of mud and slime rather than immortal flesh. Poorly
born, these may yet prove worthy."

Melpomene looked doubtful.

"Look at this one," Kalliope continued. "He has a good face, handsome
under the grime. Look at his chin and forehead--the nose too. All well
shaped, not without a touch of nobility about them. Perhaps they are
gods. It's too early to say."

They moved slowly up the long, narrow glade. Across the stream little
heads appeared, wide eyes following them.

"They're watching us," Metis said. "They're curious. That means they're
smart."

A bittersweet smile touched Melpomene's lips. "So much the worse, if
they do have any intelligence."

"Why?" Lachesis asked.

"They'll compare themselves with us. They'll envy us and aim too high.
They'll smolder with resentment, and finally they'll hate us, when the
futility of their efforts starts to crush them. Oh, pay no attention to
me," she said suddenly. "I don't know what's wrong. My mood has turned
terribly glum."

The mounds grew in all sizes. Some were little larger than

acorns; others were as big as the full-grown men watching from the
trees. Many of the largest mounds had the mud broken away in places from
the violent struggles of the creatures within, which seemed to be trying
to extricate themselves.

"I think you're wrong," Kalliope said. "None of that matters. Even
beings as wretched as these can be noble, if they strive." There was a
peculiar quaver in her voice.

"But without hope of success . . . ?"

"It doesn't matter," Kalliope insisted, pointing first toward one of the
mounds and then across the stream. "Yesterday they were fighting to
birth themselves from these mud and slime cocoons. Today they're playing
in the wind and sunshine. Who may say what they'll do tomorrow?"

Metis was absorbed in the man cuddled against her breast, and not
listening to their conversation. "May we take this one back with us?"
she asked.

It took Melpomene a moment to cast off her sad thoughts. "You'd better
not, I would think. Not until we've received Lord Kronos's permission."

"You'd better put him down now," Kalliope told her. She lifted the man
gently from Metis's hands and set him on the ground near the stream.

The goddesses continued walking, a pace or two at a time, each now sunk
in her own thoughts. Metis hung back, waiting till none of the others
was looking in her direction. Scooping up the man's still limp body, she
hurriedly concealed him within her basket, then followed. As she looked
up, Thalia was grinning at her. She had seen, but made no attempt to
tell her companions.

"Why do you suppose they've come into existence now, so late?" Lachesis
asked.

"Does there have to be a reason?" Thalia said.

The creatures scurried along the opposite bank, behind the trees and
brush. Here and there eyes and heads were visible.

"They're so curious," Metis said. "Why don't we try to make friends with
them?"

"Just how do you propose we do that?" Thalia asked.

Metis considered for a moment. "You could sing for them. Even animals
love your singing. I'm sure these tiny gods will. Please sing for them."

The Muses consulted.

"Dance for them too," Metis begged.

"What shall we sing?" Melpomene asked,

"A lullaby. Sing a gentle, soft lullaby."

Metis and Lachesis drew back to make room. Melpomene began with a voice
like the wind whistling through canyons and rustling among forest
leaves. Her sisters danced with the flowing grace of autumn leaves
lapped by the breeze.

Tiny heads appeared among the foliage on every side. Hairy, mud-streaked
bodies edged forward, until all around the goddesses men stood watching
and listening in entranced wonder.

TWO

Proteus, the shape changer, awoke suddenly, listening. The singing was
real, though distant. It had insinuated itself into his dream, merging
with the slow, rhythmic caress of the tide upon the rocky shore of a
shaded cove.

He arose slowly, disentangling himself from the arms of the sleeping
naiad beside him. She sighed softly at his touch, moistening her parted
lips and curling into a more comfortable position. During the night she
had shared her cloak with him. As he bent to tuck it carefully around
her slender body, he experienced once again the disconcerting sensation
he had felt last night--a sort of false memory, as though he had done
this before.

Rising, he made his way out of the dimness of the grotto. Outside he
paused briefly to listen, then clambered partway up the steep rock wall
that partially surrounded the narrow valley. Small rocks dislodged
beneath his huge feet, and more than once during the short ascent he was
forced to shift his weight unexpectedly from left to right or from foot
to hand. In his own environment, the sure, powerful movements of his
supple muscles propelled him through the ocean depths with speed and
grace no fish could equal. Here, where everything seemed to be rocky
cliff or rock-strewn valley, the ocean god felt distinctly out of place.

He raised his eyes cautiously above the rim of the valley and peered out
across the plain in the direction from which the singing came. He
scrutinized the five goddesses, then, as he looked more closely, became
aware of the small, godlike creatures partially hidden among the
foliage. He drew back a little, passing his fingers through his thick
black hair. The strange sense of familiarity came again, even more
strongly.

A hand touched his forearm, and he turned to find the naiad beside him.
She had followed him up the steep bank.

"Good morning, my lord," she said, brushing strands of long brown hair
away from her face. Her mouth had a pleasant smile but her eyes kept
flitting away from him.

"Good morning," he answered, trying to shake off the odd feeling that
had claimed him. "You climb very quietly."

She looked out over the valley wall rather than meet his steady gaze.
She found herself peculiarly flustered at the sight of his smooth, nude
body. After an awkward moment of silence, she said, "I love to listen to
them sing. Sometimes I stay for days near Mount Helikon, just to listen
to them."

"Mount Helikon?" He started to follow her gaze, but changed his mind and
looked back at her. "You know them?"

"Of course. Everyone knows the Black-Haired Nine." She hesitated.
"Pardon, my lord. You must not be from here."

"It's been a long time," he said, almost to himself.

It was his eyes, she decided, that hinted of age. He was tall, neither
slender nor bulky, but with sleek muscles that rippled beneath his skin
with each slightest movement. "They are ladies of Olympos," she
continued, her glancing eyes absorbing every detail of him. "Those who
are singing are three of the nine Muses and--''

"The child," he interrupted, "she is a daughter of Okeanos?"

"I don't know her, my lord." His face was clean-lined, with a high
forehead and squared chin. He looked even more handsome now than in the
silver moonlight of the night before. "My name is Nalassa. What is your
name, my lord?"

He had turned briefly to look toward the Muses. "What are the little
creatures?"

"I don't know, my lord. I've never seen them before."

Small beads of sweat stood out on his forehead as he turned back to face
her.

"You are ... you are an old one?" she asked.

His eyes fastened on hers, and she could see amusement lurking in them.
He wiped away the perspiration. "Yes--and you are a very young one."

His smile was very attractive. Nevertheless she looked away, flushing.
She kept talking to relieve her embarrassment. "You slept soundly last
night. You must have traveled far."

He nodded. "Quite far, especially after chasing you."

This time she blushed vigorously. She turned her back on him and
scrambled rapidly down to the valley floor. She stopped there,
hesitating, then turned to confront him. "You would never have caught me
among the rocks--if I hadn't wanted you to!"

Probably she expected him to follow her down, or at least to turn in her
direction. Instead he stood looking in the direction of the Muses. As
she watched, his hands moved one at a time from their holds on the rock
face of the cliff to clutch his head. He swayed, then tumbled backward.

With a cry of surprise she ran toward him. He lay on his back, still
clutching his head. His teeth were gritted and his face contorted in
pain. She threw herself down on her knees beside him.

"What's wrong, my lord? What can I do?"

His face began to change first, the features blurring. She drew back as
his entire form began to alter. The flesh started to run and shift,
flowing like molten wax. As she watched in horror, an amphibious monster
writhed upon the ground; but no sooner had the form become distinct and
recognizable than it began to change again.

His mouth, which was no longer exactly a mouth, choked out sounds. She
forced herself to lean over him, trying to understand the strange words.
Some were clear and plainly audible, but many were slurred beyond
recognition. The garbled words were interspersed with groans and sobs
and weird, slobbering sounds.

More than five minutes passed while his body writhed in continual
metamorphosis. The entire time the naiad, despite her fear, kneeled
beside him, ready to assist in any way she could. Then, as suddenly as
it had begun, the seizure passed. The god's body returned to its usual
shape, the panicked breathing slowed and became normal. Finally Proteus
was himself again. He stared calmly up into her face.

"You're all right now?" she asked, more upset than he. "Shall I bring
you water?"

He shook his head. "I'm sorry if I frightened you. That doesn't happen
often, but when it does . . . well, there isn't anything I can do about
it."

She was still kneeling beside him, and now he sat up. She held his arm
to steady him.

"Did I speak?" he asked.

She nodded, her eyes very wide.

"What did I say? You must tell me the exact words."

She recoiled a little at his forcefulness. "I heard you, my lord, but I
didn't understand. You kept changing, so that you would say a few words
that I could understand, and then the rest ... the rest I could not.
Don't you know what you said?"

He shook his head. "I never remember afterward. You must try to
remember. It's important."

Nalassa settled on her haunches, pleased at whatever opportunity gave
her his attention. "They were strange words, my lord---frightening, too,
some of them. But it's very hard to remember, since they meant nothing
to me."

He took her hand and squeezed it gently. "What is your name?"

"I am Nalassa, daughter of the river god Asopos."

"Nalassa, please try."

She nodded slowly, staring at the ground in front of them. "You still
have not told me your name."

"I am Proteus, son of Okeanos."

"Lord Proteus!" Her expression mixed surprise and befuddlement. "You are
indeed an old one. Pardon, my lord--" She rose to her feet and bowed her
head slightly toward him.

Proteus smiled despite himself.

"I'll tell you all I can, Lord Proteus."

He was grinning. "Good. Please do, but sit back down. You make me
uncomfortable."

She stiffened at his mild rebuke, but after a moment she shrugged her
slender shoulders and complied. Her brows drew together in
concentration. "Change," she said slowly. "You used that word . . .
change follows change--that was one of the things you said. And you said
something about the Titans--not just them, but all the gods, I think."

“What about the Titans?''

"Titan against Titan," she said slowly. "Titan against Titan, god
against god. And there was something about ... about ... I remember!
Change follows change--when god devours god,''

She looked up at him. "What does that mean?"

"I don't know. What else?"

"Power, force . . . Power unleashed, force undreamt-- something like
that."

"Please keep trying to remember."

"Something about birds--"

"What kind of birds?"

She frowned, seeking the exact words. "The gull . . . the gull shall . .
. weep." She moistened her lips. "The eagle . . . the eagle cease to
soar . . . when . . . when . . . This is it--when the white mare rears
her hooves and the broken willow pierces their hearts. You said that
many times. It's very odd."

Proteus seemed lost in thought for some moments. Finally he looked up.
"What else, Nalassa?"

She shook her head abruptly. "That's all I remember. What does it mean?"

"I'm not sure."

She was staring at him. "Proteus," she said, almost to herself. "Lord
Proteus, the Prophetic One. I've been trying to remember what I had
heard of you. They say you know the future."

He rose to his feet and without looking at her climbed the steep cliff
to look out across the plain. She rose to join him, but he climbed back
down almost immediately.

"The goddesses have left, and it is time for me to go too."

"You didn't answer, my lord. Do you know the future? Those strange
words, do they tell of what is to be?"

He shrugged. "I don't know the future any better than you."

"No, but you speak the future. That must be what they meant when they
called you the Prophetic One. You fall down and begin to change shapes,
and the words that come from your mouth tell what will be."

He had begun to walk down the valley. He paused and turned to look back
at her. "The morning is growing late, and I have far to travel. If you
want to continue talking, you'll have to walk with me."

She broke into a broad grin and began self-consciously arranging her
disarrayed hair. "If my lord wishes, I will accompany him."

From the grotto she recovered her cloak. She threw it around her
shoulders and trotted back toward him. They made their way down the
narrow valley, bending aside the small trees and stepping over brush and
bushes. A young deer scampered away at their approach, almost from under
their feet.

"Tell me of Olympos, Nalassa."

She laughed. "You, one of the greater gods, know far more of Olympos
than would a naiad. I spend most of my time with my sisters, or by
myself in the forests. I seldom see anyone other than my family.
Olympos! Why, I've only been mere once, and that was years ago, with my
father--and for only a brief visit."

"Come, Nalassa, you're not as provincial as that. You recognized the
Muses. Rumor travels fast and far."

"I've heard rumors, that's true--but my mother always says that it is
foolish to believe them. Still, the rumors are interesting, and it's
interesting to hear of the doings of the Titans and the other gods. Just
now everyone is talking about the marriage of Lord Crios to Lady
Eurybie. They say it is to be held not on Olympos, but in the Kingdom of
Lord Nereus, the sea god. Is that why you've come? To go to the wedding?
They say it will be wonderfully fancy--"

"No," he replied, "but I know about the wedding. What else is said?"

She stopped walking and turned to look carefully at him. "I think you
have something in mind, my lord. What do you want to know? Why not just
ask, rather than waiting for me to stumble on it?"

"You're pouting. Such seriousness is unnatural to your features."

She turned suddenly and made a particularly grotesque face at him. "I'm
not at all sure I like you," she said, and began walking ahead of him.

For some time she walked rapidly, without looking back. She wished that
she had run harder and faster the night before, that she had taken her
first opportunity this morning to slip away, perhaps to find her father
and bring him back to punish the insolent ocean god. God of fishes, she
thought.

Her feet were beginning to hurt and she found a large outcropping of
rock to sit on. She rubbed her feet, glancing up every few seconds to
watch as he approached. Part of her wanted to dislike him, if only
because he gave her so little attention, but she found herself
fascinated by the supple movements of his perfect body as he picked his
way among the huge boulders that separated them. The naturalness of
movement and perfect symmetry of the bronzed form drew her eyes to it
again and again. As he came nearer, the sun picked out blue tints in his
hair.

"Why are you tanned?" she asked as he reached her. "Why aren't you milky
white, like a fish, from swimming around under the ocean?"

"Too many afternoon naps on the beach, I guess," he said, giving her a
wry smile.

They continued walking but still without much conversation. Despite
herself she kept going over in her mind the events of the night before.
Her eyes kept wandering to his body, until she felt herself beginning to
blush. Of course the gods often abandoned clothing of any sort,
displaying their male bodies with an openness and naturalness
unthinkable to a goddess. Still, Nalassa could not help feeling that she
was staring overmuch.

At last they came to a wide gulf that opened into the Aegean through a
narrow strait. She sat on a low hill, her toes in the sand.

"Well, Nalassa," he said, "I must leave you now."

"You're going to Olympos?"

He seemed not to want to answer, but finally nodded.

"Good-bye."

"Good-bye, Nalassa. I wish you well."

As she watched he ran toward the shore and dived far out into the
glistening blue water. Without intending to, she rose and walked a few
steps after him, watching for him to surface.

He came up out of the depths like a dolphin, white spray following him,
then disappeared again. When he surfaced the second time he was much
farther out. He waved at her, and she found herself waving back
excitedly. She watched until he was out of sight, then returned to sit
on the small hill, brushing her feet back and forth across the sand.

After a while she drew her knees up under her chin. The same thoughts
ran through her mind. He was thoughtless and arrogant, not really
concerned with her at all. She should be glad to see him go back to his
ugly fish. She should have run faster; she shouldn't have let him catch
her. She had never let anyone else catch her. But she kept remembering
the strength of his arms around her, the taste of his mouth on hers, the
heat of his body and the rippling of his smooth, vibrant muscles.

Finally she stood up, threw her cloak over her shoulders and
straightened her tunic. She began walking toward the north.

"Why shouldn't I visit Mount Olympos if I want to?" she asked herself
out loud.

THREE

"I told you," Metis said as she adjusted makeshift clothing around the
miniature, shivering god that the Muses called a man. "I found him near
a stream, with many others of his kind."

Prometheus and Epimetheus gathered around her as she struggled to form
the rectangle of cloth into a crude chiton. The man, recovered from his
torpor but dazed by the events of the day, sat almost limply upon
Metis's bed, allowing her huge fingers to manipulate him as necessary to
make the clothing fit.

Metis had returned with the four goddesses to the palace of Kronos on
Mount Olympos. Almost as soon as they reentered the massive walls, she
made her way to her own room within the chambers of her sister Klymene.

Klymene was perhaps the loveliest of the many lovely daughters of the
Titan Okeanos. If she lacked anything of beauty, she more than
compensated for it through the charm of her manner and the sweetness of
her disposition. She had married Iapetos, her Titan uncle, and gone to
live with him in his brother's palace on Olympos, where she bore four
children. Atlas, the eldest, was now fully grown and occupied an
apartment of his own. Prometheus and Epimetheus were nearly the same age
as Metis--physically and mentally if not chronologically, for the gods
do not mature at a consistent rate-- while Menoetios still suckled at
his mother's breast.

Klymene had found herself longing for the companionship of her sisters
and invited some of them to come to Olympos as her guests. Philyra,
unmarried and unattached, accepted, and the youthful Metis begged to be
allowed to go with her. The two Okeanids joined the household of
Iapetos.

Prometheus and Epimetheus had been playing in the atrium, the spacious
entrance hall and main room of the apartment. When Metis did not soon
reappear from her room after returning from her outing, they followed
her there. They found her drying the tiny god-creature after giving it a
bath.

"You will keep your promise, won't you?" Metis continued as she finished
adjusting the miniature chiton and prepared to stitch its edges. "You
won't tell anyone about him? You promised."

"We won't tell," Prometheus assured her, leaning forward in his
squatting position so that he could more clearly view the creature. "He
does look like a god, all cleaned up and dressed. You can't see all the
hair on his body. Why is he shivering so?"

The man had partially revived during his bath, trying vainly to escape
from the bowl in which Metis had deposited him. Since then he had for
the most part remained very still, clutching his arms across his chest.
His skin was beginning to show almost a blue tint.

"I don't know. Maybe he's cold." Metis jumped up and ran across the room
to one of the oaken chests in which garments of every sort were stored.
She found what she was looking for and returned with an odd-shaped fur
and a sharp knife. "This should be warm enough." Drawing the small
dagger from its sheath, she fell to work cutting and shaping a tiny
cloak from the fur.

"But why does he look like a god?" Prometheus asked as she worked.

"What do you want him to look like? A bird?" Epimetheus said, laughing.
"Then he'd be a bird and not a tiny god."

"He's a man," Metis said. "Melpomene said man's what he is."

"But why does he look like a god?" Prometheus persisted. "Nobody's ever
seen a god so tiny. ..."

Metis fitted the little cloak around the creature and held him in her
hands to warm him. "I don't have anything small enough to use as a clasp
at the cloak's neck."

"You could sew it," Epimetheus suggested. "You'd have to leave the neck
opening big enough for his head to slip through."

"I guess that's what I'll have to do." She lifted the fur back off the
man and handed him to Prometheus. "Keep him warm while I finish this,"
she said.

Prometheus grinned as he took the man in his hands. Epimetheus scowled.
"Let me hold him too."

"In a minute," his brother said, gently stroking the creature. "I can't
help thinking it means something."

"What means something?" Epimetheus asked.

"That they look like us! What else have I been talking about?"

"I don't know. You're always talking about peculiar things. I'd never
have time to think about anything myself if I always listened to you:"

"Do you think Lord Kronos would let me keep him?" Metis interrupted,
looking up from her sewing.

"I don't know why he shouldn't," Prometheus said.

"Lord Kronos might want to exterminate all of them," Epimetheus said.
"Father says it was Lord Kronos who made the other gods hunt down and
kill all the monsters."

"They're not all dead. Lord Hyperion still goes hunting for monsters to
kill."

"He just likes to be away by himself," Epimetheus said. "He never finds
any. They were all killed years ago."

"You don't know that. He may not have found the last of them yet."

"Nobody's found a monster in years. In ages. They're all dead,"
Epimetheus insisted.

"You don't know that. New ones could be born anytime, just like the men
Metis saw."

"But what's this have to do with the men?" Metis asked. "Why should Lord
Kronos want to kill them? They aren't monsters."

"Lord Kronos might consider them monsters," Epimetheus said. "He might
kill them because they look so much like gods, but aren't gods."

"You don't know they aren't gods," Metis said firmly. "They may be
little gods."

"Then why do they stay little? Why doesn't this one make himself big?"

"Maybe he doesn't know how. He's only a few days old."

Prometheus was still holding the man against his chest to warm him.
"He's starting to look around a little," he said. "He's moving a lot
more."

The man had indeed become more active. The bluish tint had left his skin
and he was craning his head in every direction to observe the room and
his enormous captors. He seemed to be trying to escape Prometheus's
restraining fingers.

Metis had just finished stitching the little cloak together near the
neck. She gently retrieved the creature, adjusted the cloak around it,
and set it down on the floor. It took the man a few seconds to become
steady enough to walk. The youthful gods watched quietly as he took a
few hesitant steps. As his confidence increased, the man began
cautiously to explore the room. At first the unfamiliar clothing impeded
his progress, and two or three times he seemed to be in the process of
ridding himself of the encumbrance, but each time Metis stopped him.

From outside Metis's room the children heard voices. Klymene and
Philyra, who had been elsewhere in the apartment, were coming toward the
room.

Metis swooped up the man and thrust him into her basket, which rested
upon her bed. She turned to face the door, shielding the basket from
view with her body.

A perfunctory knock was almost immediately followed by the door opening
wide. Klymene stood in the doorway, Philyra just behind her.

"So here you are--" Klymene began, but her smile faded quickly to an
expression of puzzlement as her eyes took in the room and its occupants.
The room was exactly what one would fear from a child of Metis's age.
Articles of every description lay scattered about it. Metis's herb
collection, officially consigned to the ledge of the gallery just
outside, had spread to every comer of the room.

Philyra, who felt especially responsible for overseeing her sister's
conduct, let out a sigh of exasperation. Klymene, however, seemed more
interested in the guilty expressions of the children. A look of
suspicion, not unmixed with amusement, came over her face as she moved
into the room.

"You left your toys scattered all over the atrium," she began. "I was
going to tell you to pick them up before your father gets home. First,
though, I'd like to know what you three have been up to."

The children maintained stony silence'as she approached them. A quick
glance disclosed the remnants of fur and cloth left lying on the floor
near the bed, along with the thread Metis had used in her sewing. She
stopped directly in front of the young goddess.

"You seem strangely stationary for a child with your energetic
temperament. Is there something behind you I shouldn't see?"

Metis began to shake her head but nodded instead. She stepped
reluctantly aside. Klymene looked at the basket, then back at her young
sister. Puzzled, she picked it up and flipped back the lid. As she
looked inside she let out a gasp, almost dropping the basket.

"It's a man," Epimetheus said.

"Metis found it in the forest," Prometheus added.

Recovered from her surprise, Klymene peered into the basket again.
Philyra joined her. Before long the man had again been freed and was
attempting to walk upon the too-yielding surface of the bed.

Metis had to relate again the story of her morning adventure. "Please
don't tell anyone I have him," she begged in conclusion. "Lord Kronos
might not let me keep him."

Philyra turned to Klymene. "Is that true? Would Lord Kronos disapprove
of this odd creature being kept here?"

Klymene shrugged. "I don't know. I'll ask Iapetos. I don't see why there
should be any problem, but he'll know for sure. In the meantime, Metis,
keep him out of sight and trouble."

"Isn't he cute?" Metis asked, now holding the struggling creature
against her breast.

"I suppose so," Philyra said without assurance in her voice.

"In a disturbing way," Klymene said.

"Why do you think he looks like us, Mother?" Prometheus asked.

Klymene was stopped short by his question. His questions often had that
effect on her. She stared into the handsome face and unknowable eyes of
her son, reaching reflexively to brush back the locks of dark hair that
covered his forehead.

"I don't know," she said. "But I do know that those toys are still
waiting to be picked up."

Reluctantly Prometheus and Epimetheus began walking toward the atrium.

"Aren't you going to help them?" Philyra asked Metis.

"It's all right," Prometheus called back from the doorway. "It's our
mess. She didn't even play with the toys today."

As soon as the others had left, Philyra took Metis by the hand and led
her toward the bed. They sat side by side.

"Metis," she said, trying to make her voice as indulgent as possible, "I
thought we had an understanding between us."

"You mean about the room?" Metis asked. "I'll clean it up."

"Yes, about the room, but also about this creature. While we're here,
you're my responsibility. If you get into trouble, it's my fault. Mother
was very clear that I should keep careful watch over you."

Metis's lips were pressed together and her eyes cast down.

"And your actions reflect not only on me, but on Klymene too."

"I'll stay out of trouble," Metis said softly, not looking up.

There were noises from the atrium, heavy knocks followed by a deep,
masculine voice. Philyra rose and walked to the door to listen. After a
moment she disappeared down the hall, only to reappear a few moments
later.

"It's Lord Kronos!" she whispered emphatically.

FOUR

Kronos, Lord of the Titans and King of the Gods, stood just inside the
doorway as Metis reached the atrium. She had paused only long enough to
safely deposit the man within her basket, then followed Philyra back to
the main room of the apartment.

He was the largest of all the gods, a giant among giants-- tall and very
broad-chested, with enormous shoulders and biceps which bulged even at
rest. His only clothing was a golden rectangle of cloth wound about his
waist and pinned by a simple gold fibula. Thick black hair hung like a
mane nearly to his shoulders, merging in places with the curls of his
full beard.

"Pardon, Lady Klymene," he was saying as Metis and Philyra edged slowly
from the hall into the atrium. "I came in search of your husband, Lord
Iapetos. Since he has not yet returned ..." As he spoke his large, gray
eyes relentlessly roamed the room, merely glancing over the divine
inhabitants but scrutinizing the less visible corners and the closed and
opened doors leading to other chambers. The look was not furtive; there
was nothing fearful about it. It personified boldness and intense
alertness--the instinctive response of a creature accustomed to finding
enemies lurking nearby.

"He should be home soon," Klymene said. "I've been expecting him. I
suppose he must still be in his workshop." Only the clutching together
of her hands betrayed her nervousness.

"Probably so. That's where I was going," he said, his eyes suddenly
returning to Philyra as he spoke. This time they did not flit away. "I
thought I would stop on the way, in case he had returned early. . . .
You and your sisters grow more lovely each day. The atmosphere of
Olympos must be good for the daughters of my brother Okeanos."

Philyra became more and more flustered as he spoke, his eyes never
leaving her.

Klymene acknowledged the compliment with a demure smile and slight
inclination of her head. "Lord Kronos is too kind."

Metis had edged her way to one side and stood quietly with her back
against the wall. Klymene's sons were nowhere in sight; she must have
shooed them from the room.

Kronos smiled, and the smile, neither too broad nor too narrow, changed
the entire aspect of his magnificent face. The craggy lines of stark
majesty softened, now imbued with genuine interest and friendliness.

"Come closer, Philyra," he said. "You have no reason to be bashful about
your beauty. Compliments are not to be feared."

Philyra hesitated, but finally managed to glance quickly up at him. "I
do not fear them, my lord. I only mistrust them. They are often more
kind than truthful."

Kronos turned toward Klymene. "Can she really not know how lovely she
is?"

"I am too thin, my lord," Philyra said softly.

The Lord of the Titans carefully appraised her slender body. He shook
his head slowly, talking still to Klymene. "She's refreshing. If only
the other goddesses were a little less artful and a bit more natural,
like your sister. Your father, Lord Okeanos, and your beautiful mother,
Lady Tethys, breed fine children. This one, however, must never have
looked at herself in a mirror. Too thin, indeed!"

He laughed, still shaking his head. "I seem never to have time to talk
with the really interesting members of court-- those who cluster and
chatter around me take up all my time. I must put a stop to that. I will
put a stop to it. ... Philyra, how long have you been here on Olympos?"

Klymene answered for her. "She and Metis arrived nearly three months
ago."

"Three months! I've seen them about the palace, of course-- many times,
I suppose--but never really stopped to talk with them. You, child," he
said, addressing Metis. "Have you found things to occupy you here?"

Metis nodded. "Yes, my lord, I--"

"Of course you have. You have Klymene's sons to play with, young ..."

"Prometheus and Epimetheus," Klymene said.

"Yes, young Prometheus and Epimetheus. Fine, handsome boys." He turned
back toward Philyra. "Three months, and I've barely had the opportunity
to exchange more than a few words with you. This must change. I'm
growing tired of the same faces around me all the time, with the same,
tired conversation. You must come and dine with me tonight, Philyra--no,
not tonight, for I have already promised to let myself be bored. You
must breakfast with me tomorrow. I would like to hear about your parents
and the briny realm they rule."

Philyra still could not bring herself to look up. "I fear I am a poor
conversationalist, my lord."

"Nonsense. You would amuse me even if you never uttered a word, merely
by your presence."

With the direct simplicity of a child Metis made her way to one of the
ornate divans that lined the walls of the room. She sat down, feeling
slighted by the way Kronos steadfastly ignored her. On the other hand,
she was thankful not to be the subject of too intense scrutiny.

She fought against an almost overwhelming inclination to lie down as she
continued following the conversation.

"It's settled, then," Kronos was saying. "You'll join me tomorrow
morning, for breakfast. I'll be awaiting you."

Out of the corner of her eye Metis caught a movement near the opening
into the hall. Sharp-eyed Kronos must have seen it too; he was now
staring in that direction. A few moments later the movement was
repeated, something scampering from behind the leg of a table toward a
large amphora. Metis realized almost immediately that it was the man she
had thought safely confined within the basket on her bed.

She moved quickly, springing from her seat. The little creature seemed
intent upon avoiding capture. Nevertheless she managed after only a
moment to scoop it up as it tried to dart from the amphora to the
concealment of a number of thick cushions lying upon the floor. She
clutched the man to her breast to keep him out of sight, and without a
backward glance hurried straight toward the hall and her own room.

"Wait, child," Kronos called after her. "I would see the thing you are
carrying. Bring it here."

"It's only one of my toys," she called back, intent on transporting the
man out of the room as rapidly as possible.

"Bring it here, child," he repeated, not harshly, but with the
self-assurance of one accustomed to instant obedience.

"Metis! "Klymene called after her, shocked that she would ignore the
King of the Gods.

Metis hesitated in the doorway but did not turn to face them.

"Lord Kronos would see the creature you found," Klymene said. "Let him
see it. Do as he asks!"

With unconcealed reluctance Metis turned and walked slowly toward the
imposing figure of the Titan. As she reached him she held the man out in
her hand.

An uneven smile touched the lips of the divine king. He took the
creature from her with surprising gentleness, held it loosely in one of
his enormous hands and studied it intently. Finally he looked up. "This
is one of the creatures the Muses discovered. How did you come by it,
child?"

"I was with them this morning."

"But they said they had brought none back."

Metis hung her head. "They didn't. I did."

It took him a moment to comprehend her statement. When he did he began
to laugh. His laughter was deep, from the chest, with nothing forced or
false about it. "They didn't know, then. You smuggled this creature back
against their wishes."

Metis only nodded.

"Can it talk?" He held the man up in front of his face and shook it ever
so slightly--for a god. The creature seemed to consider it a vigorous
jostling, for as soon as the shaking stopped, it tried to free itself
from the light grasp of the Titan.

Metis nervously shifted her weight from foot to foot.

"Has it any intelligence? The Muses said the creatures displayed
curiosity."

"It would seem to be a bit intelligent," Klymene said, finally managing
to edge Metis to one side so that she could take control of the
situation before the child offended Kronos. "But we're not yet sure how
bright the thing is."

"Very interesting," Kronos said. "Very interesting indeed."

As he began to hand the creature back to Metis, a knock sounded at the
door. Responding to Klymene's imploring look, Philyra moved quickly to
answer it.

The door opened to reveal the tall, black-mantled figure of Thanatos.
With a slight bow he made his way into the room.

"Ah, good, you're here, Lord Kronos," he began in his rapid, intense
manner, nearly oblivious to the others in the room. "I must speak with
you. I recognized your voice from the corridor."

Kronos grimaced.”What is it? I'm occupied at the moment.''

"A discovery, my lord. Something which will interest you greatly."

Frowning and sighing in resignation, Kronos said, "Well, you've tracked
me down. Go ahead. What is it?"

Thanatos hesitated and began to stutter. "M-m-my lord, I m-m-must tell
you in private. This is not--" He stopped abruptly, all his intense
attention focused on a new object, the creature still struggling to
escape from Kronos's hand.

The man had continued to try vainly to climb out of the restraining
fingers of the god; now he became aware of the new face staring at him.
All effort to escape stopped as he began to quiver.

Kronos looked down at him. "The little thing is terrified of you,
Thanatos! It's shaking all over in fear."

Kronos started to hand the man back to Metis, but before the exchange
could be completed, the long, pale fingers of Thanatos interceded
hesitantly. The man began to shriek, his voice surprisingly loud and
very shrill.

Kronos glared at Thanatos.

"Please, my lord," Thanatos said, "if--if I might . . . examine . . .
this strange creature for a moment." His voice and entire manner were
high-strung and his still extended fingers quivered as they drew back
from the object of their sudden fascination.

Metis, however, did not hesitate. She plucked the man from Kronos's
hand, hugged him to her and ran toward the door.

Kronos turned on Thanatos angrily. "What do you mean by acting like
this?"

Thanatos fumbled unsuccessfully for words, his gaze twitching back and
forth between Metis and the king.

"Answer me!"

Finally Thanatos recovered his composure enough to say, "My Lord Kronos
knows what interest I take in peculiar life forms of every sort." He
forced himself to speak slowly. "Please accept my--my abject apologies
for my lack of courtesy, but--but I seem to lose control of myself when
I encounter something that arouses my interest to the degree that this
little creature has aroused it. I--I have never seen such a thing
before. I would very much like to examine it."

Klymene had intercepted Metis before she could disappear from the room.
The child was shaking her head as she faced Thanatos.

"No, he's mine. He's mine and I don't want you to touch him. You
frighten him. He's afraid of you. He's still shaking."

Thanatos edged toward Kronos. "If I might speak with you about this
privately for a moment. ..."

Kronos frowned. "You always want to speak in private. Why must you be so
secretive? It's very impolite."

Klymene was trying to take the man from Metis, determined that the
creature must be handed over if Kronos so asked. Kronos held up his hand
and waved her away. "Let the child be," he told her, his expression
clearly showing his displeasure with the commotion Thanatos had caused.

Thanatos fidgeted, rubbing his hands together and doing his best to
communicate without words to his master how imperative it was that they
talk privately. At last he leaned toward Kronos and whispered in the
god's ear. Kronos frowned still more deeply, then sighed.

He turned toward the sisters. "I've stayed too long already. Lady
Klymene, if I should miss your husband, please tell him that I'm anxious
to see him. Lady Philyra, I shall be looking forward to your sweet face
across from me at breakfast tomorrow." His eyes moved to Metis. "Young
lady, please keep me informed of your tiny ward. I'm interested in
everything that happens on Mount Olympos."

He turned toward the door. Thanatos opened it for him and, without
having directed a single word to the inhabitants of the apartment,
followed his master out into the corridor.

FIVE

The Titan Iapetos had his workshop on one of the lower levels of the
palace of Kronos, where most of the dark rooms were given over to
storage. Here the cast-off possessions of the gods lay half forgotten
alongside raw materials of every sort.

Piles of thick pelts and tanned hides reached nearly to the ceiling.
Large lidded baskets, stacked one atop the other, were filled with wool,
flax, or finest silk; huge wax-sealed amphorae held dyes and perfumes.
Elsewhere row upon row of teak, cypress, and ebony, brought from vast
distances, lay ready for some god to cut and shape. Elm and cedar trees,
stripped of their branches, were neatly stacked for the kiln or hearth,
while bins of copper ore awaited smelting. There were whole rooms of
gold and silver and ivory. Other rooms overflowed with chests of
precious stones.

It was to this level that Kronos made his way, the natural briskness of
his pace forcing the lanky Thanatos into an uncomfortable trot at his
side. They descended wide, spiral-ing staircases and traversed lengthy
corridors. As they walked, Thanatos turned continually to reassure
himself that they could not be overheard.

"The little godling can wait," Kronos said gruffly.

"Well, yes, Lord Kronos, but I think if you understood the possible
importance--"

"But it can wait?"

"Well, yes, my lord, but--"

"Then, vulture-loving child of Nyx, let it wait!"

"But Lord Kronos, this could be an important piece of the puzzle. The
sooner--"

"You should take a lesson from your less inquisitive brother," Kronos
said, his tone now good-humored. He nodded down the corridor in front of
them. "He never lets himself get unduly enthusiastic.”

A shapeless mass covered a shadowed bench in an alcove just ahead. As
they approached, the gray mass began to stir, rising up on the bench.
Kronos slowed to a stop as a puffy face appeared from amid the wrinkled
folds of a faded cloak. Bleary eyes blinked at them.

"Have the benches grown any softer, Momos?" Kronos asked without the
suggestion of a smile.

Momos rubbed the sleep from his eyes, grumbling as he made vain gestures
toward smoothing the cloak over his shoulders. "No, they haven't," he
said. "The floors are too hard too. You should see to them. They make
too much noise."

"Now the floors are making noise?" Kronos asked. "Has someone taught
them to talk?"

"They make noise when anyone walks on them," Momos explained.

"Ah, I understand," Kronos said, chuckling. "The marble slaps too hard
against bare feet."

"Against sandals too. You should make quiet marble."

Thanatos, who despised his brother, glared with unconcealed contempt at
the paunchy, rumpled god. "If you'd sleep in your own bed, you fat fool,
it wouldn't matter how much noise anyone made in the corridors. Why do
you think you have your own quarters?"

Momos rose from his seat with what he must have considered great
dignity. "That's another thing. This palace is too big. Every place is
too far from every other place."

Kronos laughed with genuine amusement. "I shall remember that when we
build a new palace."

Momos nodded. Grumbling to himself, he shambled off down the corridor in
the opposite direction. Kronos watched almost until he was out of sight.

"I can't imagine why you even talk to that fool," Thanatos said.

Kronos shrugged. "He's the only one of the gods I can almost trust."

"Trust! You trust that doddering, fat... All he ever does is complain
and criticize. He criticizes you more than anyone else."

"Not trust--almost trust. He never tries to hide what he thinks."

Thanatos shook his head in bewilderment. Kronos began walking again, and
Thanatos hurried after him.

"The other thing I wanted to tell you," he said, "it's the most amazing
discovery. ..."

"Can it wait too?"

"Well, yes, I guess it can, but--"

They entered the stairway that led to the lower levels. Kronos took a
torch from its sconce and gestured to Thanatos to do the same.

"But it is absolutely amazing. When I tell you--"

"But it can wait?"

"Yes, Lord Kronos."

"Very good, Thanatos. In two or three centuries you may acquire a
modicum of patience. It's an important virtue, absolutely essential for
the fulfillment of any ambitious project. I must give you a full
dissertation upon its merits. You will remind me."

"Yes, Lord Kronos," Thanatos said glumly.

They had almost reached Kronos's destination. "I don't know why you've
insisted on walking all this way with me," he told Thanatos, "but you
can make yourself useful. Go through the storerooms and find the most
beautiful mirror there, of gold. It should be full length, for a goddess
to properly appreciate her own appearance, but I suppose we'll have to
be satisfied with whatever you can find. Dust and polish it, then
deliver it to Lady Philyra, the sister of Klymene.''

"But my lord, that could take hours. The discovery I have made--"

"I will come to your chambers when I've finished," Kronos said with a
finality tantamount to dismissal.

Turning his back on Thanatos, Kronos entered the workshop of Iapetos
without announcing himself, carefully closing the door behind him. He
paused by the forge, first placing his hand near it, then touching the
side; the metal was barely warm. No detail escaped him as he moved
through the apartment.

He found his brother in one of the rear rooms, hard at work. Nearly
thirty seconds passed before Iapetos became aware of his presence. With
a quick movement he threw a rag over something on his bench and turned
to meet the intruder.

"Oh, it's you, brother," he said, swirling around on his stool and
standing.

Kronos came toward the workbench and lifted the rag from the object it
had hastily concealed. He nodded approvingly and took the object in his
hands, almost with reverence. "It's finished?" he asked.

Iapetos nodded. "I haven't ornamented the hilt yet, but aside from
that--"

"That doesn't matter. No one else has been here? No one knows of its
existence?"

"No one but us," Iapetos said softly as Kronos searched his aquiline
features for any trace of duplicity.

Kronos had ensconced his torch in the atrium of the workshop, and now he
took the long, heavy weapon in both hands and held it near the oil lamp
that burned upon the table. The bronze blade glistened.

"It still needs a bit more sharpening," Iapetos said.

Kronos shrugged. "You can do that later." He ran the edge of his thumb
along the blade, then held the weapon extended from one hand as he
tested the balance.

"This is what you had in mind?" Iapetos asked. "This one is
satisfactory?"

"Yes, I think so. What have you done with the other?"

Iapetos made his way to a corner of the room. From behind a jumble of
objects he withdrew a similar weapon, tall as a full-grown holly tree.
The blade was straight, lacking the long, gradual curve of the newer
one. Iapetos brought it to Kronos.

The Lord of the Titans held one in each hand, making slow, slashing
movements with the swords. Then he lay the new, curved one on the
workbench and took the other in both hands. Very deliberately he snapped
its bronze blade across his knee.

"Melt the pieces down," he instructed, handing Iapetos the two halves.
"Melt them down so that no one may ever look upon the bronze and guess
what it once was."

Iapetos nodded in assent, his eyes peering into those of his brother.
"When I began this task for you, I promised to abide by your wishes. The
curved blade satisfies you more, but the straight one might have been of
some use--if there is any use for a knife longer than a leg." As he
spoke, Iapetos seated himself in front of his bench and began to hone
the sword's edge with a stone.

"It's my wish, brother," Kronos said, "that only one of these long
knives ever exist. The other must vanish as though it had never been
made. And no one must ever know about this one."

"I know," Iapetos observed.

"What is known can be forgotten."

"Perhaps, in time," Iapetos said. "But for the present I can't help
being curious. What is the purpose for such a blade? It would be of
little use for the tasks normally performed by a knife. An ax would do
better for chopping wood."

"There is no need for you to know its purpose, brother. I needed the
skill of your hands, and you have given it to me admirably. I also need
your silence. And loyalty. Do I have them?"

Iapetos continued sharpening the long, bronze blade, now moving the
stone in light, polishing strokes. "Were the gradual curve of the blade
not important," he continued, "you would have accepted my first effort.
A curved blade would be excellent for slashing." He looked up. "For
clearing away bushes and saplings, for instance."

Kronos did not answer.

Iapetos applied the final strokes of the stone, then held the sword
upright by the hilt. "It would make a fearful weapon with which to
attack a god, wouldn't it, brother?" He turned it around and handed it
hilt first to Kronos. "Of course, you have no need of that."

Kronos studied him through half-lidded eyes. Finally he said, "I want
you to pledge me your silence."

"I've already pledged it," Iapetos said. "You shall have it. No one
shall learn of this through me."

"You will obliterate every trace of the first sword?"

Iapetos nodded.

"And your loyalty? Do I still have that?"

"As much as ever."

Kronos's face unclouded and he lay an affectionate hand on his brother's
shoulder. "Good. I need you." He hefted the sword again. "I'm very
satisfied. You've never done better work. I'll take it with me now."

"I can still embellish the handle."

"No, it's not necessary. This is fine. Do you have a cloak? I didn't
bring one, and I need something to conceal this."

They walked together to one of the other rooms, where Iapetos lent him a
long, dark mantle. Kronos wrapped it about the sword in such a way that
none could determine what lay within.

Just before they reached the main door Kronos turned toward him again.
"You will take care of the other one-- soon?"

Iapetos nodded. "Today. Before I leave here."

"Good." Kronos clapped him on the shoulder again. "Good, brother, I know
I can always count on you." He turned and left the room.

For a few minutes Iapetos stared vacantly at the closed door, then
slowly made his way back to his workroom. From behind a mound of clutter
he brought out a third sword, identical to the second. He carried it to
his bench and began to sharpen it.

SIX

Just outside the door of Iapetos's workshop Kronos was accosted by
Thanatos, who had been waiting for him to reappear.

"What are you doing here?"

"I've been waiting for you, Lord Kronos, to talk to you as you walk
back."

Kronos glared at him in annoyance. "What about the mirror I asked you to
find?"

"Here it is." Thanatos brought out an enormous mirror of polished gold
from among the shadows. "I found it without much difficulty, and have
been dusting and polishing it while I waited."

"Do as I told you," Kronos commanded, keeping the cloak-wrapped sword to
one side, where Thanatos would not see it. "Bring it to Lady
Philyra--now!"

"Y-y-yes, my lord."

Kronos stood watching as the god hefted the heavy mirror and stumbled
down the corridor with it. He waited until Thanatos had had time to get
all the way up the stairs, then proceeded hurriedly to his own chambers
on the uppermost floor of the palace.

Passing quickly through innumerable outer rooms, he came at last to a
small, nearly empty one. Laying the sword on a table, the Titan went to
a cupboard and withdrew a large object draped in black. He carried it to
another table, deposited it there, and from an adjoining room brought a
stool. He worked with these until he was satisfied with their
arrangement. The stool stood atop the table and the draped thing atop
the stool, the whole reaching nearly to the height of the King of the
Gods.

He stood back a little and pulled the cloth free to reveal the huge clay
bust of a god, a god peculiarly free of facial features. It had eyes and
nose and mouth, but portrayed no one.

From the other table he took the sword, unwrapping it and holding it
loosely at his side. He positioned himself in front of the bust, the
sword almost dangling from his hand. Twice he reached forward and
adjusted the bust so that it faced exactly the direction he wished. He
stared into the lifeless clay eyes.

Suddenly the sword flew back to a position far behind his head, then
swept forward in a whirling arc. The clay head rolled free, striking the
floor with a thud. Part of the clay shoulder followed it down.

For a few moments the Lord of the Titans stood staring at the headless
figure.

He lay the sword aside and picked up the moist clay. His fingers
trembled as he began to reshape it and work it back onto the bust. When
he had it firmly reattached he took up his position again. Again the
sword whirled and the clay head thudded to the floor.

For nearly an hour he worked without stopping, reshaping and
decapitating the senseless clay until the bust ceased to resemble
anything divine.

He allowed himself to sit quietly in a thickly cushioned chair for ten
or fifteen minutes, his thoughts clustering fast and thick. Finally,
with a deep sigh, he rose and put away the clay and the sword. He locked
them both within the cupboard.

Thanatos was awaiting him in the hall, pacing nervously.

"There you are, my lord," he said as Kronos appeared from one of the
doors. "This way, my lord. . . ."

"Did you deliver the mirror?"

"Mirror? Oh, yes, as soon as I left you. This discovery may be the most
important yet. It's another--"

"Did she like it? Was she pleased?"

"Pleased? Who? Oh, you mean the Okeanid."

"Yes, the Okeanid Philyra," Kronos said crossly. "Does she like the
mirror?"

"I suppose so, my lord." Thanatos looked at him with a puzzled
expression.

"You suppose so!"

"Yes, my lord," Thanatos said, nodding. "It's an attractive piece of
furniture, for those who care about such things."

"Didn't she say anything? Didn't you notice how she reacted when you
gave it to her? Did her eyes light up? Did she smile?"

"She said it was lovely and that I should thank you. Yes, I think that's
what she said. As to whether or not she smiled, I really didn't notice.
But as I was saying, my lord, this discovery presents not only a new
part to the puzzle, but one that we did not even suspect existed."

They had reached the entrance of the apartment in which Thanatos was
allowed to live and work. Pushing open the enormous double doors,
Thanatos stood to one side to allow Kronos to precede him.

"This discovery of yours," the Titan said, "it better be important. I'm
growing weary of your pestering."

"It's very important." Thanatos followed his master through the open
doors and pushed them closed.

The small apartment, one of the suites set aside for Kronos himself, was
fitted and furnished in gold and ivory, ebony and teak. Now it was
cluttered to overflowing and thick with dust and debris.

"Clean this place up," the Titan grumbled.

"Of course, my lord; as soon as I can find time."

They continued through the series of rooms to the bedchamber, which
testified even more forcefully, not to the laziness of the occupant, but
to his singlemindedness. Precious moments could not be squandered on
anything as insignificant as cleanliness.

A massive bronze door blocked their way at the rear of the bedchamber.
Thanatos ran his fingers along a portion of the nearby wall in search of
a hidden catch. A click sounded and the heavy door swung inward.

Kronos recoiled at the dark portal, the odor of decay billowing out from
the opening.

"Can't you do something about this smell?" he demanded.

Thanatos seemed not to hear him. He was already busy

lighting the lamps that were set in niches all around the walls. At the
noise of his movements something began to moan softly and make muffled,
whispering sounds.

Kronos forced himself to look slowly around the room. It was crowded
with brass tables and cages of living animals, birds and mammals of many
kinds. One table held a long row of brass instruments; light glittered
from their cutting edges. Most of the other tables were covered with
neatly dissected animal corpses. Usually the removed organs lay neatly
arranged along one side of the opened body. Many were in an advanced
state of decay, with flesh now browned and desiccated.

Kronos stepped over an almost-filled bucket of congealed blood as he
moved to pick up one of the oil lamps. The whispering sounds had
continued, and he followed them back into a dark recess of the room,
thrusting the lamp forward to dispel the darkness.

"Over here, my lord," Thanatos was saying.

"Can't you stop this noise?" Kronos said, distressed by the entire
atmosphere of the room. As he spoke, the light fell upon the decapitated
head of a god. It hung by the hair from a peg in the wall, a tiny,
completely formed body dangling from its neck.

"It's only Oizys. Come see this, my lord."

Kronos drew back. "What does he want? He's trying to say something." He
watched in horror as the flabby lips moved soundlessly.

Thanatos came to Kronos's side, intent upon leading him to the other
side of the room. "He can't talk yet. His body hasn't regenerated fully
enough. The lungs are too small to make words, so he makes little
whispering or moaning sounds as best he can. He's probably hungry
again."

"How long has it been since you've fed him?"

Thanatos shrugged. "A few days, I guess. I have to feed the others or
they'll die, but sometimes I skip him."

Kronos's face hardened in indignation as Oizys ceased trying to speak
and began to whimper. "Why don't you feed him, then?"

"I'll feed him later, my lord. Right now I want to show you--"

"Feed him now, Thanatos--feed all of these creatures--or I'll see to it
that you don't eat yourself for a week."

Thanatos, who sometimes forgot to eat for days at a time, hurried to
fulfill his master's command. He located the bag of grain that he kept
for the animals and dumped a large quantity into a flat pan. He made a
circuit of the room, tossing food into the cages. The birds began to
flutter excitedly, the pigs to grunt. Finally he rejoined Kronos,
placing the pan on the top of one of the tables.

"I can't understand how you can stand to be in this place," Kronos said,
his eyes returning again and again to the oval face and flabby lips of
the head.

"My lord found it interesting enough when I first showed him what
happens when a god's head and body are severed."

An almost imperceptible shudder ran through the King of the Gods. "Feed
Oizys quickly so you can show me this new thing that you think is so
important. I want to get out of this dreadful room. I warn you, my
patience is growing short."

Thanatos Kfted the head of his brother down by the hair and lay it face
down in the pan. Immediately Oizys began to grunt and crunch the grain
in-ravenous abandon.

Without a second glance at the creature, Thanatos led Kronos toward the
far side of the room. The location and darkness had conspired until this
moment to hide the thing upon the table from the Titan.

"Here it is, my lord," Thanatos said with a flourish of the lamp he held
in his hand.

"What . . . ?" Kronos moved closer to peer down at what seemed to be a
divine body. The eyes were open and staring blankly. The lips were drawn
back in a humorless grin. One hand hung limply off the side of the
table, but when he touched it, he discovered it was not limp at all. It
was stiff and cold.

Kronos drew away, a terrible oath slipping from his lips. "What is it?"
he asked, almost whispering.

"A nymph, my lord. Or at least it was. It's dead now."

Kronos was shaking his head. "No. No, that isn't a nymph. At least not
like any I've ever seen. Look at the hair. It's white. And the skin is
dried out and wrinkled."

Thanatos nodded. "Nevertheless it's a nymph. A dead nymph."

"That can't be," Kronos said. "Nymphs are not animals. They are
goddesses--less powerful than other goddesses, perhaps, but still
divine. They are immortal."

"That's what everyone has always thought. Until now."

"Maybe she's only asleep, unconscious."

"She isn't asleep," Thanatos assured him. "If you lean close to her you
can already detect the odor of decay. Her body has begun to decompose."
He grinned broadly. "She's dead, my lord."

"Detect the odor!" Kronos exclaimed in a suppressed voice. "How can
anyone distinguish an individual smell here?"

"My nose is very acute. You can take my word for it, she's very dead."
He was almost gloating over his discovery now.

Kronos stared down at the corpse. Finally he shook his head again.
"There's some mistake. She was some kind of freak. The gods are
immortal. They don't die like animals. They don't become meat for
jackals."

"That could be true, my lord. Still, it is a very important piece of
information, even if she was not a typical nymph. I think you're wrong,
though."

"But why does she look like that?"

"Part of her appearance is due simply to her being dead. But the white
hair and wrinkled skin--they're what make you doubt she was a normal
nymph. Perhaps you've never noticed, but there is a similar thing that
happens to animals when they live to be very old. Their bodies begin to
wear out--somewhat as flowers wilt or trees die branch by branch. I
think the same thing must have happened to her."

"But why hasn't it ever happened before?"

"There always has to be a first time. I think this is it. If I'm right,
other nymphs--the oldest of them--will begin to wear out, just as this
one must have. She needn't even be the first, for that matter. Living as
they do--by themselves for the most part--a number may have withered and
died without anyone being aware of it. I do know that she died from the
inside--there are no external wounds."

Kronos only stared down at the once beautiful body.

"That, of course, leads to the next question," Thanatos continued. "If
she could die, could she be killed?"

"Who was she?" Kronos asked suddenly.

Thanatos shrugged. "Just one of the thousands of nymphs who teem among
the hills and valleys. I found her body in Aetolia, where my servants
had discovered it."

"The vultures," Kronos said.

Thanatos nodded. "No one else was around, not for a very long distance.
No one but you and I know of this."

"Are you certain she isn't asleep?" Kronos asked.

"I'll prove it to you," Thanatos said, plucking from a nearby table a
sharp, gleaming instrument. He ran the edge along the forearm of the
corpse so that the flesh opened to a fair depth. "See, the ichor doesn't
flow, even from a relatively deep wound. It only oozes out. . . ."He
performed the same operation on his own forearm without the slightest
hesitation, cutting not quite as deeply. "See, the ichor flows out
immediately." He displayed his arm.

Kronos watched in shocked fascination as the thick, translucent
substance that is the immortal blood of the gods welled from the long
cut and began to run down Thanatos's arm.

Thanatos wrapped his arm in a makeshift bandage. "The questions raised
by this discovery are fascinating, and it will take a long time and much
more research to answer them. Can all nymphs die? Can they be killed, or
only die of old age? If nymphs can die, can the other lesser gods? Are
all of the gods mortal to some degree?" He stared into Kronos's face, a
razor smile spreading over his lips. "Can the gods be killed?"

Kronos wanted to look away from this creature who spoke of death and
decay so offhandedly.

Thanatos walked partway across the room, Kronos following him, glad to
be away from the nymph's corpse. Thanatos stopped beside the headless
body of Oizys.

"It's been two months now since I cut off Oizys's head, but his body
remains imperishable. If I cut it, ichor flows, just as though it still
had a head and were completely alive. After a day or two the wound heals
completely. The heart continues to beat--very slowly. Yet it hasn't
begun to regenerate a head. I suppose the head will grow back a
completely new body and this body will remain just as it is, lying here
and twitching occasionally--perhaps forever."

He spun around to face Kronos, his face and hands animated by intense
interest. "The power of regeneration must be centered in the brain--but
not completely so. See where I amputated his finger--it's coming along
nicely and soon will be full size again." He rubbed his hands together.
"There's so much to study. Scars, for instance. I had to inflict
twenty-seven cuts on the body before I could get one to scar. That

may mean that the regeneration response works imperfectly, that it
sometimes makes a mistake. But many experiments still have to be
performed to be certain."

The head of Oizys had begun to make low noises again. Thanatos went to
it, yanked it out of the pan of grain, and hung it back on the wall.

Kronos stood brooding over what he had seen and heard. At last he said,
"She died from living too long?"

"That's my first thought, but I must have time to make experiments. I
want to see how the body decays. That could provide important clues.
I've been unable to kill Oizys, even when I cut his skull in half. He
just went into some kind of deep sleep until the two halves grew back
together properly. . . . Still, if you give me time, it's very possible
that I may find the secret of killing a god."

"What an awful gift you dangle before me."

"Gift, my lord?"

"Yes, with your studies, should they succeed."

"I don't understand. You mean if I learn how a god may be killed? That
would be a powerful weapon, and would repay you for allowing me to make
my experiments here."

"Why are the gods godsT' Kronos went on. "How do they differ from
animals? Why are they deathless?"

"You said the knowledge might be useful to you. ..."

"Indeed, it very well might be--why else would I put up with this
carrion room of yours? The nature of life, of mortality and
immortality--those are things fitting for the King of the Gods to know.
The limits of immortality! I have many enemies, and such knowledge could
be a potent weapon indeed. Cleave a divine head in half and the god is
incapacitated until the halves heal back together. Decapitate him and
his body flops to the floor, powerless against you. Not pretty things to
consider, but potentially very useful."

"But Lord Kronos, it would be ever so much more efficient if you could
kill your enemy."

Kronos shook his head sadly. "You don't understand, do you? You tell me
blithely that the gods may not be immortal after all. This one nymph has
died for some reason or other, and perhaps you can find a way that even
the great gods can be killed. But death is a double-edged dagger. If I
can kill my enemies--my enemies can kill me! If they can die, then I too
can die--you can die!"

Thanatos's pale, narrow face watched unblinkingly, polite but
unperturbed.

"No, you really don't understand." Kronos shrugged. "I've seen enough.
Keep me informed, but I don't want to have to come back here unless
absolutely necessary. No one saw you bring the nymph?"

"No, my lord. I was very careful. I concealed both of us in dark
clouds."

"Good. No one must learn of this." Kronos began to leave the room.

"A moment more, Lord Kronos," Thanatos said as he followed him.

In the bedchamber Kronos paused, listening impatiently.

"This new creature, the one Metis discovered ..."

Kronos nodded. "What about it?"

"I must have it."

"Why?"

"To learn what it is. To dissect it and see how it differs from the
nymph and Oizys, and from animals."

Kronos thought for a moment. At last he said, "Do what you must. But
don't draw attention to yourself, and don't involve me in what you do.
You're tolerated here because I need your work--the knowledge it
promises. I make no pretense of liking it. You must be discreet."

"Yes, my lord, I will. One last thing. I must establish the mortality or
immortality of nymphs, and to do that I must have another to experiment
on."

Kronos shuddered, turning away and walking toward the front of the
apartment. Thanatos followed directly behind him.

"Well, my lord? May I acquire the things I need to continue my work?"

In front of the main door Kronos paused. "Do what you think necessary,
but let no one discover it. I don't even want to know about it."

He turned and left the apartment of Thanatos, a disconcerting, churning
sensation deep within him.

SEVEN

Proteus, the shape changer, moved effortlessly through the blue depths
of the Aegean. Slow, powerful strokes of his huge tail fins sent him
skimming along just above the languidly waving growths of the sea-bottom
plain. Silent, rainbow-colored fish frolicked about him or followed in
his wake.

Coral-covered cairns of rock rose nearby like ghostly castles. An eel,
startled at his approach, sought shelter within the crevices. A scarlet,
spiked creature watched him from unblinking eyes.

Even his brief, overnight sojourn on land had left him longing for the
magnificent solitude of the blue depths, where even sound seemed to move
at a more leisurely pace. The enchanted vistas of sunken mountain and
valley calmed him and quieted his apprehensions.

He traveled slowly, perhaps because of the mild uneasiness with which he
looked forward to arriving on Mount Olympos. More than once he had to
conceal himself when a golden-haired Nereid came within sight. Sometimes
he lolled behind an outcropping of rock until she swam away; other times
he metamorphosed himself into a dolphin or other sea denizen to escape
her notice.

Although he intended to visit his brother-in-law Nereus, the king of the
deep Aegean, he preferred to conceal his presence in the area until the
time of that visit, after he had been to Olympos.

Tranquil hours slipped away as he swam, until at last he neared his
destination. He came up from the water draped in seaweed and waded
toward the shore of a shaded cove. A few hours remained until twilight.
He located a cave, and drawing himself up into it, fell quickly asleep.

When he awakened, night had fallen. He came out of the cave and stood
for a few minutes surveying his surroundings. The moon had risen, full
and clear. Moonlight speckled the sea with silver.

Mount Olympos began almost at the beach and stretched more than
twenty-five miles inland, its many peaks thrusting upward toward heaven
like the fingers of a gigantic rock hand. An immense, ragged gorge faced
him; beyond it precipitous limestone walls rose nearly two miles into
the sky, disappearing among dark clouds.

With a deep sigh Proteus allowed himself a last, lingering look at the
sea. Then he transformed himself into a gull and began the arduous
ascent, flying just above the dark forests that clung to the mountain
slopes. The powerful wings of the sea bird carried him both inland and
upward, toward the home of the Titans.

Innumerable small streams cascaded downward, cutting deep channels.
Whenever possible he followed these paths, skimming along above the
water. As he rose, the dark forest growths thinned and finally vanished
completely. It grew cold, and the air thinned. Clouds clustered around
the mountain peaks.

Above the clouds began the precinct of the gods. The air grew pleasantly
warm and thick again; sweet smelling, too, with the slightest suggestion
of the odor of pansies. The sky above was completely clear, its velvet
blackness studded with a million stars.

Now, more than ever, he flew close to the face of the cliff, hugging the
shadows. Ahead of him stood the palace of Olympos, bathed yellow gold in
the moonlight. It seemed to grow out of the mountain peak, tier upon
tier partially carved from the rock summit, partially constructed from
huge limestone blocks.

He settled amid the shadows and carefully observed the long, narrow
galleries that ran along the outside of each floor of the palace. There,
or within the rooms just beyond the galleries, he could discern moving
figures, and so he was

forced to move forward stealthily. He took on the form of a serpent and
slithered closer, shielded by rocks and boulders.

When he was quite close he paused to more carefully observe the
inhabitants of the apartments facing him. One of these apartments
particularly drew his attention, and he began making his way in its
direction. At the base of the palace wall he resumed the shape of a gull
and flew almost straight upward. He lighted first upon the marble
balustrade, then dropped to the gallery floor as he reassumed his
natural shape. Silently he moved to a point from which he could observe
the interior of the apartment.

A youthful goddess laughed gaily as she lay on her bed. A tiny creature
shaped like a god was walking on her stomach, and she kept catching it
as it started to fall. Proteus studied her features until he was certain
of her identity, then stepped boldly into the room.

"You seem to have made a pet of that one."

The goddess sat up, sending the man on her stomach falling. She managed
to catch him in midair and set him down quickly beside her as she turned
to face the intruder.

"Who are--" As she spoke, her expression changed from surprise and
indignation to puzzlement, then to recognition. "Proteus!" she
exclaimed, leaping from the bed and running toward him.

She threw herself into his arms. He lifted her up and swung her around
twice before setting her back on her feet and holding her at arm's
distance to look at her.

"You've grown so much, I wasn't sure I recognized you," he said. "You'll
be full grown before long."

"I recognized you right away--well, almost right away. How could I
forget my favorite brother, even if this is only the third time I've
seen him?"

"Is it only the third time?"

She nodded emphatically, managing to look reproachful at the same time.
"I ought to scold you. Anyone would think you dislike your family. How
are Mother and Father? Have you seen them?"

He nodded. "The same as always."

"You mean they're fighting every minute of the day and night. But why
are you here? I can't imagine anything that could get you to Olympos.
Wait till Philyra hears-- What am I thinking of? She's in the next room.
I'll get her."

But before she reached the door, his fingers closed around her wrist and
held her back. "No, Metis. Don't call her. At least not yet."

"But she'll be delighted to see you. And so will Klymene."

He was shaking his head. "Not now. I don't want anyone else to know I'm
here."

"I don't understand. Why don't you want to see them?"

He put his hands on her shoulders. "Metis, there's something peculiar
going on here. At least I have reason to believe there is. Lord Okeanos
has sent me to find his friend, the sea god Aigaion. Until I've had time
to discover what the situation is, I want my presence to be kept a
secret."

"Aigaion was here," Metis said. "I saw him when we first arrived, but he
must have left. I haven't seen him since then."

"Neither has anyone else. That's why our father sent me."

Metis's eyes grew wide. "What do you think happened to him?"

Proteus shrugged. "It's said he displeased Kronos."

"You think Lord Kronos has done something to him? Imprisoned him? But
wouldn't all Olympos be talking about it? Wouldn't I have heard?"

Proteus shrugged again.

"But why keep your presence a secret from Philyra and Klymene?"

"Metis, you're the first friendly face I've encountered. If not for
that--and the bit of assistance I require--you might not know either."

She grinned back at him. "How can I help?"

"I need information and shelter. May I stay here tonight, after I've had
a look around?"

"Certainly!"

"Good. I also need to know where the apartments of the Titans are
located. Kronos is still on the uppermost level, I presume."

She nodded and proceeded as best she could to give him the information
he required, often elaborating unnecessarily. He let her continue
uninterrupted.

"Very good, Metis," he told her when she finished. "I should be able to
find my way now."

While they had been talking, the creature called a man had managed to
slip down the side of the bed to the floor. He was exploring the far
comer of the room when Metis noticed him. She picked him up and held him
against her breast.

Proteus walked back toward the gallery and Metis followed.

"You will come back here tonight?" she asked.

He nodded. "But don't wait up for me. I'm going now to see what can be
learned among the shadows."

"Shadows?"

"That's a delicate way of saying I have a lot of snooping to do, a lot
of listening at doorways. Before the night is over, I hope to know more
about Olympos than the King of the Gods himself."

"Be careful," she said. "I think Lord Kronos could be very dangerous."

An expression of deadly seriousness flickered across his face. He
stooped and kissed her lightly on the cheek. "You said the chambers of
Crios are on this floor. Which way?"

She pointed to the left. "You could follow the gallery, except for the
partitions."

As she watched, he transformed himself into a gull and flew in the
direction she had indicated.

EIGHT

There were twelve Titans, children of Gaia and Ouranos-- six male and
six female--the most powerful of the gods, the lords of the world. Vast
ages before, when the earth still teamed with primordial monsters,
Okeanos, the eldest of the Titans, had withdrawn with Tethys, his wife
and sister, to rule over their wide, watery domain. Kronos, succeeding
his father as King of the Gods, led the other Titans to their new home
in the palace on Olympos. With the exceptions of Mnemosyne, who had
never married, and of Crios, who would soon wed the sea goddess Eurybie,
Titan married Titaness--Kronos and Rhea, Hyperion and Thea, Koios and
Phoibe, Iapetos and Themis; but eventually Iapetos put aside his first
wife, who was barren, and took instead the Okeanid Klymene, his niece.

It was these ten, in particular, that Proteus wanted to locate among the
inhabitants of the palace.

He darted away from Metis, flying along the balcony railing and swerving
out around the partitions that separated the galleries into private
sections. Around the far side of the building he located the chambers of
Crios without difficulty. Still in the form of a gull, he perched
outside the first lighted room he came to.

The Titan, however, lay stretched upon a divan, dozing lightly. Proteus
allowed himself a few minutes to study Crios's face and form, then
spreading his wings, dropped silently down to the floor below.

For nearly two hours he flitted from apartment to apartment, acquainting
or reacquainting himself with many of the occupants of the palace of
Kronos upon Mount Olympos. Koios sat distractedly with his wife Phoibe
as she sewed and tried to discuss domestic affairs with him. The nine
Muses, in groups of two or three, chattered incessantly, their
conversations occasionally interspersed with short bursts of song.
Sometimes the rooms fronting on the gallery were vacant, and more than
once Proteus crept recklessly into an apartment to listen at the door of
an inner room.

After completing his initial circuit of the lower levels of the palace,
he turned his attention upward, intending now to investigate the
chambers of Hyperion. His route brought him back near the apartment of
Crios, and a strident voice led him to perch again outside the large
atrium.

Crios was awake now, and decidedly unhappy. Additional lamps had been
lit, and the Titan was sitting on a three-legged stool, his elbows on
his knees and his face in his hands as Eurybie, sister of Nereus the sea
god, paced the room in front of him. Her full, golden hair flailed
around her as she moved.

"Well," she demanded, her fists coming to rest on her stately hips, "are
you just going to sit there?"

He looked up at her slowly. "At least after we're married I won't have
to see you as much. I don't know why I ever let myself get talked into
this." His low voice was filled with bitterness.

Eurybie was tall and very beautiful, with a robust figure that seemed
doubly voluptuous within the clinging folds of the peplos she wore. "You
really are a spineless wretch," she told him, only occasionally favoring
him with a glance as she paced the room. "You know very well why you're
marrying me. Because your brother told you to. And you dare not disobey
him."

Crios only glared sullenly.

"You don't think I'm pleased about having you for a husband, do you?
Would I have chosen you if I had any other choice . . . ? Oh, I wish I
had been bom a god instead of a goddess!"

Crios looked up. He was of middle height and slender, with a slight
paunch. His shoulders slumped and he had the habit of watching the floor
when he walked. "That, my lady, is my fondest wish also," he said
softly. "But why do we have to talk about all this? It was settled long
ago."

"Yes, but your brothers want to talk some more." Eurybie's voice became
patronizing. "They implore your attendance. I suppose they'll miss your
sparkling wit. All that's required of you is your presence. I'll do all
the talking for both of us. You won't have to stammer out more than
hello and good-bye. . . ."

"Then just go without me. I'm weary of these continual machinations. If
this keeps up, I'll find some cave to live in, far from all of you."

She laughed, a flighty, girlish laugh completely unsuited to both her
personality and appearance. "You're welcome to your cave, once we're
married and I'm safely a member of the family. Kronos may think he needs
you, but you and I know better." She tapped her sandaled foot
impatiently. "Are you going to come, or shall I make up some excuse for
you? I have to get back soon, before the others start to arrive."

He glanced nervously around the room, as though seeking some plausible
reason for absenting himself from the meeting.

"I could tell them you slipped on the stairs again. Or better yet, you
could go and actually do it right now, so I won't have to lie."

"This is madness," he said. "Sheer madness, to let myself get involved
in this."

She shook her head slowly, making little reproachful sounds with her
mouth.

"Who's going to be there?"

"Koios and Iapetos, you and me."

"Not Kronos?"

She shook her head. "He doesn't even know about it. That's the idea.
Koios wants to discuss things without Kronos evaluating every word." She
retrieved her scarlet cloak from a chair and swirled it around her
shoulders.

She turned and gave him a final, withering look. "Goodbye, then."

He sighed. "Wait a moment. I'm coming." He rose wearily.

"Sorry, can't wait. You can find your own way, can't you? You do know
where your betrothed lives?"

The door closed behind her and Crios stood perfectly still, his head
bowed, for what seemed like a long time. Finally he began to straighten
his simple, unadorned chiton, disappeared into an adjoining room to
return a minute later with a drab gray mantle wrapped around him, and
made his way out of the apartment.

Proteus waited impatiently until Crios left, then came down onto the
gallery, assuming first his own form, then after a few moments
consideration, the semblance of the Titan Koios. Leaning out over the
balcony, he drew up from below wisps of cloud and formed them around
himself in the likeness of the tunic he had seen Koios wearing, and into
a nondescript cloak.

He moved quickly to the door, cracked it open and peered out into the
corridor. Crios was just disappearing around a far corner. At the other
end of the corridor, however, a lanky, almost emaciated figure paced
nervously back and forth near the entrance of another apartment.

As Proteus watched through the narrow opening, the agitated figure
seemed to come to some resolution. Turning suddenly, the god stalked
down the corridor toward him. Proteus pushed the door closed and pressed
his ear to it, listening as the muffled footsteps passed by and
continued in the direction that Crios had taken.

He had intended to follow Crios from a distance. Now that was no longer
possible. His earlier explorations had not led him across the apartment
of Eurybie. If he hoped to locate it--and the Titan meeting--he would
have to turn again to Metis.

No sooner had he determined to return to Metis's room by way of the
galleries, than he heard the sound of a door opening or closing in the
corridor. He looked out again.

It was Metis. She was creeping down the wide hall, an apprehensive look
upon her face and something clumsily concealed under her cloak. He
waited until she had almost reached the doorway from which he watched,
then stepped out into the hall and pulled her into the room with him,
smothering her cry of alarm with his palm.

"Quiet, sister! It is I, Proteus."

"Oh, Proteus, I'm so glad to find you," she said, panting for breath as
he let his body slip back into its natural form. In her excitement, even
the facility with which he changed shapes did not astound her. "Thanatos
sneaked into our apartment and tried to take the man from me. He tried
to force me to tell him where he could find the others."

She seemed to remember the thing concealed under her cloak, and brought
out the tiny, godlike creature. "I think I'll call him Alalkomeneus,"
she continued. The name meant Guardian. "I've been trying to think of a
name for him, and he certainly did his best to guard me from Thanatos.
In our struggle we broke a vase, and little Alallcomeneus, who was on
the floor, somehow picked up a piece of the vase and jabbed it into
Thanatos's ankle. Oh, how brave you are, little Alalkomeneus!" she
cried, hugging the creature to her. "Besides," she concluded, "it'll be
amusing to have such a big name for such a little god."

"A wounded ankle wouldn't have stopped him for long."

"No, but it must have been quite painful"--she grinned-- "judging from
how loudly he yelled. Klymene came to see what was the matter. Thanatos
didn't know what to say, and just gave her a little bow and walked out."

"But why are you smuggling Alalkomeneus down the hall?" Proteus asked.

"I'm afraid Thanatos might come back. Klymene is going to have Iapetos
complain to Lord Kronos, but Thanatos is capable of anything. He might
come back to steal Alalkomeneus while I'm out."

Proteus nodded. "I suspect your fears are well grounded. Just before you
appeared, there was an odd-looking god pacing the corridor near your
apartment--a tall, thin creature, quite nervous."

"That's him. That has to be him. You see, Alalkomeneus is not safe
there. I was going to take him to Thalia, the Muse. I'm sure she'll take
care of him for me."

"She was one of the goddesses with you when this creature was first
discovered?"

"How did you know?"

"I saw you". I was there--nearby, anyway. Metis, I don't have time right
now to talk. I need your help. Do you know where Eurybie's apartment is?
Can you lead me there?"

"I think so. She has a small suite on the floor above, near Lord
Hyperion."

"Good. Listen, Metis, don't take your pet to Thalia. Thanatos might
decide to question her, too, and find him there. Leave him here, in one
of the inner rooms without windows. Crios will be gone for some time--I
can promise you that. You'll have time to lead me to Eurybie's chambers
and then come back for him."

Metis seemed unsure. While she vacillated, Proteus moved quickly to look
into the adjoining rooms.

"Here, this one will do. Turn him loose inside and pull the door
closed."

Metis examined the room carefully and reluctantly agreed. She kissed the
creature and set it on the floor. "I'll be back soon," she whispered to
it, then closed the door.

Proteus had reassumed the semblance of the Titan Koios. The corridor was
empty, and within moments they were on their way toward a massive
circular staircase. The corridor twisted and turned, and as they rounded
a corner a rumpled gray mass began to stir on a bench set back in a
narrow alcove.

Grumbling under his breath, Momos sat up and rubbed his eyes. He rose
slowly to his feet and began to walk away from them. Proteus pulled
Metis to a halt and turned to watch the retreating figure.

"A better choice, don't you think?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

He waited until Momos was out of sight, then transformed his body. He
became much shorter and heavier, with a protruding belly. Deep furrows
lined his face and his eyes became surrounded by puffy sacks of flesh.
At the same time he reformed the phantom clothing he wore into a perfect
imitation of Momos's faded garments.

Metis watched the metamorphosis in wonder. "I wish you could teach me to
do that."

He smiled. "It's a talent; something you're bom with, not taught."

"But how can you go from one to another so quickly and easily? Shape
changing is exhausting! I could never do such a perfect imitation of
another god--I don't think anyone else could. Just holding a different
shape is hard. Doesn't it tire you?"

Proteus shook his head. "Now that I'm Momos, you'd best walk ahead of
me. Not too fast, though."

"But why is Momos better than Koios?"

"Because we know where Momos is."

They reached the stairs and he let her get almost halfway up before
mounting the first step. She climbed slowly, so that she would not get
too far ahead, and had almost reached the landing of the next floor when
she came face to face with Thanatos. The god stopped directly in front
of her. He glared at her.

"Where are you going this time of night?" he asked, blocking her path.
"I'm surprised you've deserted your precious little creature."

Proteus, still in the role of Momos, was coming slowly up the stairs
toward them. He seemed to be watching the steps, but actually he was
carefully observing everything taking place above him.

Metis tried to edge around Thanatos. He countered her move so that she
could not pass. But then he stepped unexpectedly to one side. As she
climbed past him his hands shot out to press against her body, nimbly
searching her before she realized what he was doing.

Proteus, head bowed and lips mumbling, had almost reached them. Metis,
once past Thanatos, bolted up the remaining steps. Thanatos continued
downward, pointedly ignoring what he thought to be his brother.

Metis waited for Proteus a little way down the seventh-floor corridor.
"Let's hurry," she said. "I want to get back to Alalkomeneus."

She led him rapidly through a maze of passages, finally pointing to a
door just ahead.

"Thank you, sister," he told her. "Hurry back to your pet. I'll see you
again as soon as I can."

She returned to Crios's chambers as quickly as she could without drawing
attention to herself. Thanatos was nowhere in sight, and she went in
immediately.

"I'm back, Alalkomeneus, my brave little Alalkomeneus," she called as
she entered the inner room.

Nothing moved within the room.

"Alalkomeneus," she called, looking slowly around. A single lamp burned
on a small table. She picked it up and used it to light the wall lamps.
She went down on her knees and searched behind the furniture.

Alalkomeneus was gone.

NINE

The corridors of the palace of Olympos were lit by torches ensconced at
regular intervals along the massive stone walls. The fitful illumination
left long, dark stretches where light refused to reach. In a few places
moonlight streamed in through high, broad windows set within deep
alcoves.

As Metis left him, Proteus moved toward one of these windows, which
opened upon an exterior gallery. By this route he hoped to gain access
to the apartment of Eurybie. He paused long enough to resume his own
form and to darken his cloak; then, with one hand on the windowsill, he
vaulted through the opening and dropped to a crouching position on the
narrow floor of the balcony.

A soft breeze was blowing, rustling his sable hair as he crept forward.
From ahead of him, distant and muffled, came voices, among which he
could distinguish the clear, unwavering tones of the sea goddess
Eurybie. He hesitated directly outside a dark, open window; other
windows lay ahead, leading into the same apartment. Many of them were
lighted. After a few moments consideration he climbed silently over the
stone sill into the blackness of the room.

He felt his way along, letting the distant voices guide him through what
seemed a maze of pitch-black chambers until at last he came to a room
lit only by the dim yellow light that entered through an open door. The
voices had become clearly distinguishable now, and he moved to position
himself opposite the door, where he could see clearly into the adjoining
room. Pulling his black cloak almost completely around him, he settled
himself on the floor amid deep shadows to watch and listen.

Eurybie had found time to ornament herself with gold and silver
bracelets and to confine her luxuriant golden hair beneath a silver
tiara upon which were mounted delicate, jade-petaled flowers. She and
her three Titan guests sat in a tight circle near the middle of the
room, small tripod tables drawn up beside each chair.

"Lord Koios," Eurybie was saying, "I wasn't aware that you had grown
more cunning than your brother. If Lord Kronos says his plan will work,
I'm much inclined to believe him."

Koios set aside his goblet of nectar. "That's one of the points I've
been trying to make. But we haven't talked openly about this, and I
think we must before we go any further. I know how I became involved,
and I'm not pleased by it. Kronos simply took it for granted that I had
agreed to my part in the plan. He left it to me to tell him otherwise.
Of course, I never did. . . ."

Crios, sulking in his chair, nodded. "That's almost exactly what
happened to me. Before I knew it, not only was I committed to helping
him in this mad scheme, but I was engaged to marry her\" He sneered the
final word.

Eurybie smiled benignly at him. "Do you really think I've the better
part of the bargain, darling? The very thought of your weak, trembling
hands on my body makes me decidedly ill."

"Who wants your body?" he demanded. "It's as icy as the far slopes of
Olympos."

"Is it?" she asked, completely unruffled by his comments. "I didn't know
you felt that way. You certainly didn't seem to the night you came
whining and begging to touch it."

Koios held up his hand for silence while Crios, livid with
embarrassment, sank even more deeply into his chair, muttering bitterly.

"Please," Koios said, "this is important. Let's not waste what little
time we have. We may not have another opportunity to talk freely. Kronos
has drawn us into this affair, and as far as I can see, he's smoothly
manipulated things so that we haven't been able to talk among ourselves.
I think it's

important that each of us know how thoroughly committed the others are.
I think it's important we each understand exactly how serious a step
we're taking."

He looked directly at Crios. "Yes, as Kronos tells it, it'll be quite
simple. Okeanos and Nereus have been plotting against him. During the
celebration following your marriage, when the moment is right, Kronos
and Iapetos and I will make prisoners of Okeanos and Nereus. Kronos will
justify himself to the other gods by displaying proofs of treachery, and
all will be fine.

"This sounds well enough, but can we indeed make prisoners of them?
Nereus may not be much of a problem, except for his proficiency at
changing his shape, but Okeanos is very strong. Then, even if we do
succeed, will the proofs convince the other gods? More than that, will
the numberless spawn of Okeanos accept them? Or will they plot against
us?"

He turned slowly to look at each of his companions. "I said before that
there could be very serious ramifications, and I mean that--whether we
succeed or fail. Our actions could cast the gods into a thousand years
of strife. I wonder, has each of you considered this?"

Iapetos sat quietly, his face expressionless as he listened and watched
the others. Crios looked frightened. "I never wanted any part of this,"
he complained. "All I want is to be left alone."

Koios turned his attention to the sea goddess.

She smiled at him. "My actions are guided by the same principles that
guide yours--that guide each of us. I act out of respect and love of
Lord Kronos. Whatever he asks of me, I'll do. I haven't sought this out,
but I have no qualms."

Koios smiled ironically. "I admire your devotion to my brother," he
said, "but I can't help remembering something you seem to be
overlooking."

"What's that?" she asked softly, her turquoise eyes staring at him with
perfect ingenuousness.

"By selflessly serving Lord Kronos, you'll find yourself queen of the
sea." He glanced toward Iapetos. "And you, brother, will rule the
deep-flowing ocean. Isn't it so?"

"Why shouldn't it be?" Eurybie asked, answering for Iapetos. "His wife
Klymene is loyal to Lord Kronos. As a daughter of Okeanos she has a
claim to the throne, and her husband with her. Both Iapetos and Crios
will rule their domains wisely and loyally. The Titans will rule the
entire world. You should approve of that--you should be joyous at the
prospect."

"Okeanos is also a Titan, and my brother. And as far as I can tell, Lord
Nereus has never done us any harm."

"You forget that they both plot against Lord Kronos," she replied,
becoming more animated. "They invite their own overthrow."

Koios shook his head somewhat sadly. "Kronos says they plot against
him."

"Do you doubt his word?" she asked.

He avoided her question. "Eurybie," he asked, "why do you hate your
brother? Has Nereus done something to you to make your heart so cold to
him?"

"I love my brother," she said. "But even love can't blind me to his
actions. He opposes Lord Kronos; therefore I must oppose him."

"And thereby become Queen Eurybie," he said, looking at her beautiful
face and lovely, unflinching eyes. "The sad part is I half believe you.
I don't think you hate him, but you don't love him either, Eurybie. I
don't think you have any feelings for him at all, or for anyone else.
You want to wear a crown, and the only one available happens to belong
to your brother's wife. Its price is that you must help plunge your
brother into the endless night of Tartaros."

Eurybie, still smiling, only shrugged her shoulders.

"You do realize, of course, that in actuality you'll be no more a queen
than you are now. Oh, Crios may be king, and certainly he'll do just as
you tell him, but Lord Kronos's price remains to be paid. It'll be he
who rules the sea in your name--or you'll surely follow your brother to
Tartaros."

"I'll have no reason to disagree with Lord Kronos," she said. "I'll be
pleased to follow his advice."

"His advice I Advice that comes prancing and bleating like a lamb.
Beware, Queen Eurybie! At any moment that lamb can resume its natural
shape, and its roar will shake you from your throne."

For once the sea goddess remained silent.

Koios looked sadly at Crios. "And you, poor brother-- there's a lion in
your future too--a lioness, rather. You've got a lioness by the tail,
pulling you down the trail behind her. At the end of the trail lies a
crown, but the crown lies within her den. Once she has the crown, she'll
gobble you whole."

Crios, more uncomfortable than ever, refilled his goblet and drank
rapidly.

"What of you, Iapetos?" Koios asked.

The Titan looked up slowly.

"I can't understand why you would sanction such a thing-- you, of all
the gods. How can you lend yourself to a project that would consign your
brother, the father of your beautiful wife, to the pitiful nether world?
I can't believe Klymene would approve of this. Certainly she wouldn't do
it merely to become queen of the ocean. Does she even know? Have you
told her?"

Iapetos shook his head.

"Lord Kronos wouldn't want her told," Eurybie said.

"What will she think when she learns?" Koios demanded. He hesitated,
studying his brother's stony face. "She won't allow it. She'll leave you
rather than stay with a husband who betrayed her father."

"He's only doing what must be done," Eurybie said, growing tired of the
conversation. "We're all doing what we must do. Get to your point, Lord
Koios, though I think I've uncovered it."

He looked at her inquisitively.

"It's very simple, after all. Each of us has a reward promised for his
services--a kingdom. Each of us, except you. You feel slighted, don't
you? Your services must be worth as much as ours." She laughed. "And
you're quite right. The only difficulty is that no kingdom remains for
you . . . unless you'd like to rule over Tartaros."

Koios was shaking his head sadly.

"I suppose a crown wouldn't make you more amenable to the righteousness
of Lord Kronos's cause?"

Koios sighed in frustration, turning to Iapetos and Crios. "Can't I make
you two understand? I'm trying to tell you that we're courting disaster.
The dreadful injustice to which we are making ourselves parties could
bring this palace tumbling down around us. Kronos has always envied and
distrusted both Okeanos and Nereus. Maybe it's because they haven't
totally bowed to his rule, maybe there's some other reason. He's finally
determined to be done with them--at whatever cost, even if it destroys
all he's created, all the good he's done. If you really love him, you'll
think long and hard before you let him do this."

Koios had become highly agitated and plunged on now, regardless of the
consequences of saying too much. "As for this evidence of his, all I've
seen is poor Aigaion. Do you really believe what he said--or do you
think he would have said anything Kronos told him to say? He was
terrified. He could barely stand without help, he was so weak. The
bruises all over his face showed that he had been beaten, probably for
days. Is that convincing evidence?"

"What better?" Eurybie asked. "He is Nereus's own brother and mine, and
a great friend of Okeanos. He admitted to sharing in their plot against
Lord Kronos. Should Kronos deal tenderly with his enemies?"

"In his state he would have accused his own mother and father. If you'll
be honest with yourselves, you'll admit that Kronos has become
suspicious of everyone and everything. He sees plots everywhere, where
none exist. He grows less reasonable each day. He's becoming--"

Koios stopped abruptly. A massive figure loomed in the doorway leading
from one of the adjoining rooms. From benea.th his broad, furrowed brow
the King of the Gods surveyed them through smoldering, adamantine eyes.

TEN

Sheathed in darkness, wide-roaming Proteus, son of Okeanos, watched and
listened intently as Kronos advanced slowly into the room. Silence had
fallen over the assemblage at his sudden appearance, and the Lord of the
Titans let his gaze move from one immobilized figure to the next.

Eurybie was the first to recover her wits. "Come in, come in, my lord,"
she said, jumping to her feet. "We'll make room for you to join us."

She went to fetch a chair while the Titans rose awkwardly to greet their
brother. They began to fumble with their own chairs and small tripod
tables, moving them backward to enlarge the circle.

"Please be seated, my lord," Eurybie said, escorting Kronos to the place
she had prepared for him. "1*11 bring you nectar to refresh yourself.''

Without a word he took his seat. The other Titans were forced to follow
his example. Eurybie set a full goblet near his hand, but he did not
reach for it. Instead he continued to look slowly from one to the other
of them, his face, except for the eyes, an impenetrable mask.

"Well, Lord Kronos," Eurybie said, still trying to break the silence,
"to what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?"

Very slowly he ran his hand over his wide forehead and through his black
hair. "I've begun to wonder, of late. . . .

I've begun to wonder if, perhaps, I haven't been letting my imagination
run away with me."

He paused to look inquiringly at each of them. "It must be my
imagination, after all. I keep imagining that the gods are conspiring
against me, that there are plots all around me." His eyes settled on
Koios. "Here, for instance."

"It may seem that way, Kronos--it may have sounded like that, but that
wasn't my intent. We only wished--"

"We? You seemed to be doing most of the talking."

"Y-yes, I suppose I was," Koios said, his face now very pale, and beads
of sweat standing out on his forehead. "I suppose I had the most
questions to ask."

Kronos smiled the barest tinge of a smile and sank back into the deep
cushions of his chair. "Yes, quite a few questions . . . about every
aspect of this undertaking. How many of them, brother, relate at core to
the merits of the project in which we're all mutually involved--and how
many to the validity of my thought processes? That does seem to be what
you were getting at."

His gray eyes bored ruthlessly into the pale blue ones of Koios, so that
Koios was forced to look away.

"My lord, I apologize if anything I said has offended you. I don't know
how much of this conversation you heard--"

"More than enough, I should think."

Since Kronos's arrival, Iapetos had maintained much the same attitude as
he had displayed earlier. He looked up now. "Lord Kronos," he said
softly, "I would say a few words."

Kronos turned to face him. "Say them, brother."

"Koios has doubts about your plan, and he's expressed them openly before
us. He's said that we should talk together, that since our success
depends on how well each of us does his part, we should know just how
thoroughly each of us is committed to the plan. What he says makes good
sense."

"Perhaps," Kronos said, "but he also doubts the truth of what I've told
him."

"He thinks you haven't told us in enough detail how your plan is to
succeed," Iapetos said.

"No!" Kronos said, nearly losing control of himself for .the first time.
"No, he doubts me. He doubts that Okeanos plots to depose me."

Kronos half rose from his chair, glaring at them in suppressed fury. His
huge hand reached out, pointing directly into Koios's face. "I tell you
that our brother Okeanos has never had any love for me--that since the
day I assumed leadership of the Titans he has resented and envied me,
and plotted to destroy me. He has cursed my every success, cheered each
little reversal I've encountered. There at the end of the world, in the
sunken castle from which he rules his fishy domain, he has brooded and
kept counsel with himself, always with the single goal of bringing about
my downfall. He has fed himself on bitterness and hate. He has plotted
against me time and again--sending lies out into the world to turn the
other gods against me--and now, with the help of sly Nereus, he hopes
finally to taste my defeat."

Kronos stood fully erect, his face twisted in anger. "It shall not be. I
have endured his petty conspiracies and lies too long already. Now I'll
be done with him--forever!"

He was quivering slightly as he spoke, his eyes flashing back and forth
over the others. "He and interfering Nereus have finally overstepped the
limits of my patience. I shall rid myself of them--with you, if you
choose to help me, but without you if I must."

Koios, who had drawn away from Kronos, cast an astonished look at
Iapetos. Iapetos, however, did not seem surprised at Kronos's claim that
he could depose both gods without assistance.

"We all know the duplicity of Okeanos and Nereus," Eurybie said as soon
as Kronos lapsed into silence. "Come, sit and calm yourself, my lord,
that you may put to rest those little concerns of Koios."

Kronos slumped back into his chair, letting his head nod forward. For
perhaps a full minute he was completely silent. Finally he looked up
again, once more composed.

"Pardon me," he said, "but I have endured a great deal from both of
them--more than any of you suspect." He looked directly at Koios again.
"All right, you have doubts about my plan. I've told you all you need to
know right now, all that concerns you. I don't intend to tell you any
more, though I can assure you that I know exactly what I'm doing. We
will succeed, and without much difficulty. The testimony of Aigaion, one
of Nereus's own brothers, will prove the treachery of both Okeanos and
Nereus to the satisfaction of anyone willing to hear the evidence
without bias."

He was watching Koios carefully, perhaps gauging his reactions. "I
suppose there is the chance that the children of Okeanos may not want to
believe the evidence, but that will be their decision. It will be their
decision, too, if they wish to contest my actions. Perhaps it will mean
a thousand years of strife. I doubt it, but I will not flinch from the
prospect. This deed must be done."

Koios listened uncomfortably.

"As I said, I'd like to have the help of each of you, but if you have
reservations, if you prefer not to take part in this, you need only say
so. Not just Koios, but any of you."

He looked at Eurybie.

"Oh, I'm most certainly with you, my lord," she said.

He turned to Crios.

"Yes, my lord. You have only to ask."

Iapetos looked up as Kronos turned toward him.

"And you, brother," Kronos said. "I already know that I can count on
you, don't I?"

"I will serve you as loyally as I am capable," Iapetos said.

Kronos turned at last to Koios. "Only you remain. I tell you frankly, if
you want to disassociate yourself from this project, do it now."

Koios looked quickly from one to the other around the room; each of them
was watching him. Finally he nodded his head. "Yes, Lord Kronos," he
said, "I'll work with you. I'll do as you ask me."

"Good," Kronos said, smiling slightly as he rose from his chair. He
walked toward Koios and laid a hand upon his shoulder. "You've made the
right decision, brother. You won't regret it."

Without another word he turned and left them. They sat in silence until
they heard the door to the corridor close behind him.

Koios was wiping perspiration from his forehead. Crios, almost limp
after the nervous strain he had undergone, moaned softly.

Iapetos rose.

"One moment," Koios said, rising also and stepping near him. "I'd like
to talk to you for a few moments."

"I don't want to talk to anyone," Crios said, rising and walking toward
the front of the apartment. Eurybie began to follow her betrothed, but
stopped just within the room to turn back and listen.

"Iapetos," Koios said in a low voice, "I don't know why you're going
along with this. I know it isn't out of fear. Whatever your reason,
think carefully before it's too late. You heard our brother raving
against Okeanos. He really believes Okeanos wants to depose him, and now
he seems to actually believe he can overcome both Okeanos and Nereus--
and all those who will defend them--by himself. Think what that really
says about the person to whom we have bound ourselves."

"I have been thinking," Iapetos said. "And I'm beginning to suspect he
might be able to do it."

"Still have doubts?" Eurybie asked from the doorway. "Oh, well, I don't
guess it matters. You've agreed to do your parts, doubts or not."

Eurybie accompanied the gods to the door and let them out. As soon as
they had gone, she leaned against the closed door, shoulders drooping
and arms hanging limply at her sides. Her lassitude lasted for only a
moment, however. Lifting her cloak from its wall peg, she draped herself
in its long folds, adjusted her hair, then left the apartment herself.

Proteus, who had been about to make his own exit by the same route that
had brought him here, now rose to his full height and quickly moved to
the door through which Eurybie had just departed. Reassuming the form of
Momos, he followed her out into the corridor.

ELEVEN

Even in the form of Momos, a denizen of the dark corridors, Proteus had
difficulty following Eurybie without arousing her suspicion. She paused
regularly to look behind or down intersecting corridors. Each time she
turned in his direction, Proteus flattened himself against a shadowed
area of the wall or disappeared into an alcove. He hung back until she
rounded a comer, then came forward down the empty passageway like a
sudden breeze.

She ascended a little-used circular staircase and made her way directly,
if furtively, to the chambers of Kronos himself upon the topmost floor
of the palace. Without hesitating she went to the looming bronze double
doors and tapped softly. One section of the door opened and she
disappeared within.

Once she was out of sight, Proteus moved quickly down the corridor and
pressed his ear against the thick door. Unable to discern even the
smallest sound within, he turned immediately to an adjacent door on the
same side of the corridor, cracked it open long enough to glance within,
then passed silently into the dimly lighted interior.

He hoped that this suite of rooms, which appeared from its furnishings
to be part of the private chambers of the King of the Gods, would
connect with the apartments into which Eurybie had been admitted;
otherwise he would have to make his way to the exterior gallery and
attempt to gain entrance to the neighboring suite by that route.
Continuing to mimic the shambling gait of Momos, so that he would be
mistaken for that god should he be observed within these rooms, he moved
in absolute silence from chamber to chamber, pausing at each door,
listening first, then cautiously opening it.

At last he found himself at an entrance bridging into a second series of
rooms. Now he could hear low voices, one of which might very well be
that of Kronos. The second he recognized instantly as the distinctive
tones of the sea goddess.

The intervening rooms were dimly lighted, and he was now forced to move
along the walls, carefully avoiding the furnishings placed there, which,
were he to stumble over them, would quickly draw attention to his
presence. He darted across open spaces where he might have been observed
had he not carefully waited until both god and goddess were looking
away. Finally he reached a point from which he could both see and hear.
He settled himself behind the concealment of four huge amphorae and a
stack of bulging skin flasks. Lying upon the floor behind them, he could
peer into the next room.

Kronos was beginning to mix nectar and fresh spring water in a large,
golden mixing bowl formed in the shape of a dragonlike monster. His
hands were trembling, and Eurybie took the ewer from him before he
spilled the contents. He relinquished his place before the side table
and threw himself down on a high divan.

"Koios is a coward," he said, "a miserable, traitorous coward. ..."

Eurybie shook her long golden hair, a hand moving to brush away the
curls that clung to her cheek. "You came too soon. You should have
waited until everything had been said before showing yourself."

"I lost my temper," he admitted somewhat ruefully. "But I heard enough.
Enough to know just how little I can trust them."

She laughed softly, beginning to pour their drinks. "But now you'll
never know what might have been said."

He frowned, taking a goblet from her. "I didn't need to hear any more.
Koios can't be trusted, Iapetos is loyal but unenthusiastic, and Crios
is a wimpering cur--but we both already knew that."

"I was afraid you'd thrash the lot of them. I've never seen you so
angry. You were quivering with rage." She raised her goblet to salute
him. "And they trembled, my Lord Kronos-- trembled with fear as you
trembled with anger!"

He smiled despite himself.

"Still, I think you squandered a wonderful opportunity to learn just
what each of our comrades is thinking. It would have'been better if you
had restrained yourself a little longer. Crios I can tell you
about--he'll do exactly as you say, no more and no less. But Koios and
Iapetos . . . ?"

Kronos shrugged, sipping nectar. "And so will they. I know all I need to
know."

She settled beside him on the edge of the divan. "And what's that?"

"That I must work a bit upon Koios."

She watched him closely, leaning toward him as she spoke. "And what do
you mean by that?"

"He has doubts. We must help him overcome those doubts."

"Well, go on. I'm listening intently. You have my fullest attention."

He looked at her through half-closed eyes. "Not yet, Eurybie. I must
have time to brood upon it. Koios, my dear brother, has grown plump and
comfortable. He no longer has any initiative. If he were more insecure
..."

"He seemed quite insecure this evening."

Kronos smiled. "Tonight he was as self-assured as a mountain by
comparison with the way he will be."

"He'll serve you nonetheless, just as he is."

"Yes, I think you're right. He'll serve me--but not as I wish to be
served." He stood up, restless.

"You mean he won't be trembling to please you."

Kronos's smile broadened. "Very good, Eurybie! Trembling in his attempt
to please me, and pleasing me because he trembles." He began to walk
back and forth in front of her. "It wasn't always this way, that I had
to connive for their faith and loyalty. Once they gave it to me
willingly."

His mood changed and he slumped down on the divan beside her, sitting in
gloomy silence. Finally she rose and went to refill her goblet. When she
returned she stood in front of him, watching him.

"What are you thinking?" The tinge of lightheartedness in her voice did
not ring true.

"I could do it without them," he said, looking up slowly. "I could, you
know. I can if I have to. I've been thinking that perhaps I should let
them go, even Iapetos. His heart isn't in it."

She shook her head. "You need them--"

He started to interrupt, but she continued talking.

"You need them even if they don't lift a finger. You need their
complicity. Maybe you could somehow overcome both Okeanos and Nereus by
getting them alone and secretly incarcerating them, but you can't afford
to do it that way."

"Why not?"

"You mustn't seem too ambitious, my lord. Acting alone, you would seem
ruthless, oppressive."

"I would prove the justice of my cause."

She shook her head. "All the proofs in the world would not be as useful
as the passive support of Iapetos. With him at your side the other gods
will believe without questioning, and accept. The support of Koios and
Crios will have a similar, if not as great effect."

"Perhaps you're right."

"If you act alone, it won't be long before rumors begin to circulate
against you. Soon the other gods, a few of them at least, will begin to
scheme against you and--"

"They already scheme against me," he said sullenly. "Everyone schemes
against me in one way or another."

An amused smile played upon her lips. "Everyone? Even I?"

"Even you."

"And how do I scheme against you?"

"By trying to bend me to your will."

"Oh!" She laughed. "But you like the way I do that, don't you?" Her hand
rested on his thigh.

"At least I know what you're doing. You don't try to hide your motives
from me."

"I hide nothing from you."

He smiled softly. "You want a crown. Since I plan to give it to you, we
have no area of contention."

She took his goblet from him. "You look tired. Why not rest now?"

He stretched out on the divan and she stood beside him, gently stroking
his hair and toying with the curls of his beard.

"I meant to ask, my lord, what of Aigaion? You do have him somewhere
safe? He will be at the wedding to testify?"

"Oh, quite safe, I assure you. You need not fear for his safety; he is
under my personal protection. Everything is arranged. He will arrive
with my entourage."

"But is that wise?" she asked. "If he is allowed to talk to anyone
before--"

"I told you, Eurybie, it's all arranged. He will say nothing until I
call upon him to testify to the treachery of Okeanos and Nereus. Tell
me, is there still no word from Okeanos?"

She shook her head.

"If he declines to attend your wedding, then the plan will not work.
We'll have to begin again."

Eurybie frowned. "Could we not still act against Nereus?"

"Okeanos knows how I feel about him. Once he learned that Nereus had
been deposed, he would know that I had finally decided to act. He would
be doubly warned--doubly on guard. He might even move against me, rather
than wait for me to act."

She dipped a finger in his goblet and let the nectar drip between his
lips. "Everyone has a weak point," she said.

"What do you mean?"

"Your brother's pride is the flaw through which he can be influenced.
Play properly upon his pride and you can lead him to do just as you
want. Make him feel that it would be cowardly to avoid you--to avoid
coming to the wedding, for instance--and he will undergo any danger to
prove how fearless he is. You couldn't keep him from attending."

"You know him very well, Eurybie. He'd face any risk to gratify his
pride. Perhaps we'll have to do something of that sort, if he declines
your invitation. Eurybie, you'd make a dangerous adversary. I'm glad
you're on my side."

She bowed slightly toward him. "Indeed I would, Lord Kronos."

He thought silently for a few moments. "What's my weak point, Eurybie?
You said everyone has such a flaw in his character. Tell me where I'm
weakest, that I may guard myself there."

She smiled down at him, leaned forward and brushed his lips in the
lightest of kisses. "Why, my lord, that's no secret. Everyone knows your
weakness. It's the ladies, of course!"

His low chuckle grew until his entire body shook with laughter. He
stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. "Yes, I guess that's true
enough. Isn't there another, one that might not be so obvious?"

"Not that I can think of."

He watched her carefully, pensively. "That's a fault you don't
understand at all, isn't it?"

"Your lustful nature, you mean?"

"Yes, that's what I mean--its reciprocal side. You feel nothing,
Eurybie. Don't deny it. It's true. You're incapable of feeling; you're
cold to the core, and you use your body without emotion--because you
have no emotions. I, on the other hand, am one who savors ..."

"Thank you for enlightening me. I thought you were merely lustful."

He laughed, drawing her down toward him and kissing her. "One who savors
his emotions, I was about to say."

She drew away, pouting.

"You're angry because I said you have no emotions?"

She shook her head. "No, I'm not angry. It's true. Everything we do is
done for a reason, my lord. You, for pleasure; I, for advantage. When
you like, I give you pleasure--for my advantage. I see no real
difference."

"I have other motivations as well. Duty. Necessity. Justice."

"Necessity rules everyone. Duty is nothing but a perversion of pride,
and justice is an illusion."

He pushed her away, sitting up again. "You really believe that, I
think."

"Of course. Shall we debate it?"

"Some other time. Your talk of my weakness has reminded me of something.
Do you know Philyra, the sister of Klymene?"

"The Okeanid?" She shook her head. "I've seen her, but I didn't really
pay much attention to her." She cocked her head to one side, her eyes
glittering. "Why, my lord? You wish to savor her?"

He smiled but did not answer.

"I suppose she's attractive. All Okeanids are attractive. If you like,
I'll see what I can learn about her, though I can't imagine why you
would bother just now. In a couple of weeks I'll let you take your pick
of golden Nereids!"

"She has a certain charm. Yes, let me know what you can learn of her.''

"All the goddesses have a certain charm to you. To me they're only so
much--"

A knock sounded at the door, and as they turned toward it, the door
opened to admit a chestnut-haired goddess of medium height and full
figure. Rhea, wife of Kronos and Queen of the Gods, halted as she saw
Eurybie. Her features, already drawn, stiffened perceptibly.

"I didn't intend to interrupt," she said. "I'll return to talk with you
later."

Eurybie had sprung to her feet. "Oh, you haven't interrupted, my lady. I
was just going." She yawned beneath an only partly concealing palm.

Eurybie edged to one side to pass her on the way to the door. "Good
night, all," she said, pulling the door closed behind her.

TWELVE

Kronos had risen as his wife entered. Now he recovered his golden goblet
from the floor beside the divan where Eurybie had left it and drained
its contents of sparkling red nectar as he resumed his seat upon the
edge of the divan.

Rhea came slowly deeper into the room until she stood almost directly in
front of him. He watched her through weary eyes, admiring despite
himself the way the sheer material of her purple peplos draped her
stately figure. Her long rich hair was arranged atop her head in a
simple but attractive coiffeur and held in place by a narrow tiara of
electrum studded with jade. Finally, when he had finished his drink and
set its container aside, she looked directly at him and began to speak.

"Lord Kronos, my husband, I have a right to know what you are plotting."

He stared at her in mild amazement. "I've always admired your
directness. It's a quality most of the gods lack--or suppress. What are
you referring to this time?"

"Something is going on and you're trying very hard to be secretive about
it. You ought to know by now that you can't keep such things from me."

"That's apparent. I'll ask again, though. To what do you refer?"

"There was a meeting tonight. Koios and Iapetos were there, and you must
have been too."

"How do you know that?"

"Because neither of them were at home. I saw both Phoibe and Klymene,
and Phoibe had seen Iapetos and Koios talking earlier. I know you
weren't here."

"And on that basis you decided we must all be together."

She nodded slowly, refusing to drop her eyes. "Yes, with Crios and
that--" She thought better of saying the word. "With Crios and Eurybie."

"And how do you know thatl"

"I know where to look for you when you're not to be found any other
place. When I got to Eurybie's apartment, the others were just leaving.
I must have missed you somehow."

Kronos listened quietly, wearily. "Go on. You undoubtedly have more to
say."

"I certainly do. I want to know what's happening. For months now you've
had something in mind and--"

"Haven't I still the right, madam, to entertain thoughts of my own? You
may be my wife, but my thoughts are still my own. At least I've been
under that impression. Inform me if I'm wrong."

She held her body rigid before his scornful gaze. "I control neither
your mind nor your heart, I know that. You've become a stranger to me, a
husband only in name. Nevertheless I remain your wife--in name, at
least--and as your wife I have a right to some consideration. I've long
since accommodated myself to the fact that you are incapable of limiting
your affections to a single goddess--a marvelous irony in the
high-minded King of the Gods who first imposed marriage upon the world.
..."

"The world must have order, and it is the obligation of the gods to
impose order upon the shambles of nature. Before my rule we were little
better than immortal beasts."

"Yes, but the laws you promulgate are for others, not for yourself."

He shrugged. "Some laws work better than others. Why must we talk of
this? Eurybie was only here to discuss the meeting you went to such
pains to uncover. You interrupted nothing, if that's what you think."

"Only because I arrived too soon," she said. "But Eurybie and her kind
are insignificant. I've resigned myself to your nature. If I can't
approve, I can look the other way--when you let me. Toy with her as you
like, but don't cut me out of your life. That I will not tolerate!"

Tears huddled at the corners of her eyes. "You've drawn away from me,
husband, and soon you'll no longer deserve to be called by that name.
Ever since you brought that hideous creature Thanatos here, I haven't
even been welcome in your chambers. He seems always to be fluttering
about you, or creeping around the passages up here. I despise him--I
can't imagine how you can abide his presence here, in your personal
quarters. You should send him away. ..."

Kronos listened resolutely until she lapsed into silence. He rose and
went to the small table against one wall, refilled his own goblet and
poured a second for her. When she refused it, he set them both aside. He
slipped an arm around the mature fullness of her body and drew her
toward him.

"Rhea," he said in his most soothing tone, "be calm, lovely Rhea. Sip
nectar with me and compose yourself, then we'll talk as long as you
like."

"I mean nothing to you," she complained bitterly. "I, who have dedicated
my life to you. Haven't I loved you--do you realize how fully I've loved
you?"

He pressed her to him, so that her face nestled against his enormous
chest. As he ran his fingers through the thickness of her hair, the
tiara she wore tumbled to the floor. Her hair unfurled under his caress.
He led her to the divan and almost draped her upon it. As he kissed her,
her arms moved slowly to encircle his massive neck. Her body grew soft
and yielding beneath his muscular firmness and the supple touch of his
powerful but gentle fingers.

He drew back from her abruptly, his face clouded. She tried to sit up
but he held her down on the divan with one hand while the other moved
across her lower abdomen, exploring the unexpected firmness he had found
there.

At last she managed to pull free, or perhaps he loosened his grip. As
she stood up, her foot struck one of the goblets sitting on the floor,
and a pool of red nectar spread across the shining marble flagstones.

"Stand still," he warned. "You are with child." It was an accusation.

She gave in to his firmer will and overpowering strength. He reached out
and held her jaw in one hand, forcing her to look at him.

"Answer me. Are you with child?"

"I think so." Her words were barely audible. He turned away in rage, and
she covered her face with her hands and began to sob.

"How long before it is born?" he demanded. Her divine body might display
no more noticeable indication of pregnancy. She could be within months
or hours of delivery.

"I don't know."

His rage drained away. After a few minutes he said, "You know it must be
the same--just as before."

She shook her head vehemently.

"You must bring the child to me as soon as it is born."

She let out a cry of anguish and threw herself upon him, slipping down
to his knees and clutching them fiercely. "No, Kronos--you can't demand
this of me again. I want this child. You must let me keep this child!"

He took her arms and lifted her up. Her body twisted frantically from
side to side, trying to break free from him.

"You must bring it to me," he repeated.

"No!" she shrieked, beginning to pound on his chest. "What have you done
with my babies? Where are they? Give them back to me!" She scratched and
shoved violently in her effort to free herself.

He let her struggle and weep until she had exhausted herself. Finally he
said, "Rhea, you know what must be."

She looked up at him, calmer now, wiping the tears from her eyes. At
last she said, "Tell me what you have done with the others."

"You don't need to know that."

"How can you say that? I--their mother--need not know what has become of
them? You're a monster, to be so devoid of feeling."

"I only do what I must."

"Oh, that evil prophecy," she shrieked, "that lying, evil prophecy! I
would give my life that those words had never been uttered, or that I
had never married you. What do I care to be a queen when I can have no
children?"

"I'm sorry, Rhea--more sorry than you can know. Remember that. I'm not
heartless. I'm not a monster. I have tender feelings too. But I will
not--I cannot--let the work of millenia be destroyed. All that I've
built, all I've accomplished--it must not be destroyed. I'll do anything
that is necessary to uphold it."

Her eyes gleamed behind the light film of tears. "No good--no lasting
good--can ever come from such evil, husband. Monstrous evil can only
beget monstrous evil, and this unspeakable crime of yours--ripping my
babies from my milk-swollen breasts--this unspeakable evil that you hide
from every eye and ear, it cries out for vengeance. It calls vengeance
down upon you!"

She stood tall and rigid, her body swaying slightly and her entire
countenance ennobled by the depth of the emotions surging within her.
"Oh, shameful god, the evil of that far-gone day will haunt you forever.
You'll never be free of it. Child, beware thy child. As you have
overthrown your father, so shall you be overthrown!''

He recoiled from her, repressed horror spreading over his face as the
words fell from her lips. "Silence," he commanded.

"I've earned the right to say what I please. I've earned the right to
curse you--paid for the privilege, paid in my own flesh. Listen well.
I've obeyed you and I obey you still. But I want this child. Take it
from me and I'll pine for the day on which the prophecy of Gaia and
Ouranos is fulfilled. I'll bless that day. ..."

Kronos had stepped back from her. "Nereus spoke the prophecy too," he
said almost vacantly. "The wretched sea god pronounced the selfsame
words. And never once had I breathed them to another, save only you."

"You needed no prophecy. The evil you did that day has haunted you ever
since, and you won't free yourself of it by taking my babies from me."

"Still your tongue." His voice shook with anger now. "Had I not struck
that blow, the world would still be as it was. Is that what you want?
The gods would still be little more than savage beasts, forever fighting
among themselves. Have you forgotten? I haven't accomplished all this
through weakness and indecision. Nothing would have changed were it not
for me--my strength and intelligence--yes, and cruelty. I've done what
must be done, even when I found the act abhorent."

His voice faltered, and he paused before continuing. "Rhea, you know me
better than anyone. If I do evil, I do it only because I must. Must, a
terrible word, even for the King of the Gods. . . . I've never done evil
for its own sake, but only through necessity--another terrible, awesome
word, before which even I must bow--before which everything that exists,
god and animal, earth and sky and sea must bow. Look at what I have
achieved. If you must remember my faults, remember my achievements
also."

She did not answer. Finally he said, "What are you thinking?"

"The same thoughts your brothers and sisters would think, if they but
knew the depths of your devotion to duty."

"And what does that mean?" he demanded.

"That they would detest you as I detest you. That they would shrink from
you as I do, if they knew how completely ambition has eaten away all
that was once good and wonderful in you. . . . Tell me, is this
heartache of mine reserved for wives, or do you deal in the same manner
with your playthings when they become similarly discomfited?"

"Rhea, I warn you," he said slowly, his hands gripping hers more
forcefully. "Dare not speak of this to anyone, or I swear by the earth
itself that you've seen the light of the sun for the last time. Tartaros
will embrace you as its own. I love you, but you must not contend
against me, or I shall rid myself of you."

"Just as you rid yourself of our undesirable brothers," she said softly.
"And, I suppose, of troublesome lovers."

"Just as I rid the earth of everything that causes turmoil and strife.
Yes, even our monstrous brothers. I swear you'll join them in eternal
darkness unless you obey me."

"I don't doubt it," she said, a small, mirthless smile trembling on her
pale lips.

"Maintain silence and bring the child to me as soon as it is born--or
you will leave me no choice."

"Of course," she said, "it will be necessary." She rose as she spoke,
absently straightening the flowing folds of her peplos. She looked up at
him a final time. "I obey you, my husband. I obey you--and I curse you!"

The door closed behind her, leaving him standing in the middle of the
room. He sat upon the divan, letting his head sink into his hands. A
minute or two passed, and then the door opened again. He looked up to
find Eurybie coming toward him.

"I thought you were going to bed," he said wearily.

"Rhea thought that, too, I hope."

"What do you want? Where have you been all this time?"

"Waiting for her to leave." She sat beside him, smiling and adjusting
the cascading tresses of her golden hair.

He became more tense as he watched her. "What did you hear?"

She looked at him innocently. "You mean, was I listening at the door?"
She laughed. "I'm certainly not above such a thing, but I'm afraid it
never occurred to me. Did I miss something good? I never for a moment
thought your wife might have something interesting to say. Well, I'm
forewarned--I certainly won't let such an opportunity slip away next
time!"

His face was furrowed in a deep scowl. "I'm not joking, Eurybie. What
did you hear?"

Her smile grew smaller but did not vanish completely. "I told you, I
heard nothing. I started to return to my own quarters when I left here,
but changed my mind before I reached them. I waited below till I heard
Rhea descending; then I came back up. I thought you might want company,
something a bit more relaxing than a wife. . . . You're very tense, my
lord."

His enormous hand encircled her pearl-white throat. "Eurybie, lie to me
now and I promise you'll regret that lie for a thousand years."

"I'm not lying," she said, her eyes meeting his without
flinching--without humor, but also without fear. "I heard nothing."

His hand fell from her and for a few minutes he seemed lost in thought.
Finally he said, "Would you betray me?"

"Only if you force me to, my love."

He watched her closely, scrutinizing the mocking half smile that so
seldom left her.

"But you would never do that," she said. "Come, my lord, I'll put you to
bed."

Taking him by the hand, she began to lead him toward his bedroom.
"You're so tense," she said. "That's not good. You'll have trouble
sleeping. You're lucky I decided to come back."

Proteus, still hidden in the next room, retreated to a more secure
hiding place as they came in his direction.

THIRTEEN

Even though she had carefully searched the room, Metis refused to admit
that Alalkomeneus could be gone. She had failed to uncover any exit
through which he might have escaped during her brief absence, and had
continued to search time and again over the same limited area, even
inspecting the closed chests that lined the walls and two empty amphorae
into which, just possibly, he might have clambered.

She called out as she moved about the room, trying to coax him to her.
"Alalkomeneus, my little god, where have you gone? You mustn't hide from
me. You know I'm your friend, and I'm worried about you. ..."

Once again she fell to her knees and crawled about to look under
furniture. The task became more hopeless with each passing moment. There
were no windows through which he might have climbed, no crack under or
around the door through which he might have squirmed.

"Oh, come out, Alalkomeneus--please come out!" she begged in
desperation. "You know I won't hurt you. I love you, Alalkomeneus. I
want to protect you from being hurt. ..."

She stopped still. Thanatos--he had passed her on the stairway, coming
in this direction as she led Proteus to the chambers of Eurybie. A cold
dread grew within her. Logic told her that he could not have known
Alalkomeneus was hidden here in Crios's apartment. But Alalkomeneus was
gone, inexplicably gone, and Thanatos had been nearby. The thought
played upon her mind. She stood in the middle of the room, her eyes
vacantly scanning the crowded chamber for the hundredth time.

Finally, growing more and more convinced that Thanatos must be behind
this mysterious disappearance, she left the room. She was angry, and
frightened too. The thought of her little friend in the hands of that
god made her quail, but what could she do? She walked slowly, by turns
dejected and furious, back toward her own room. Thoughts of vengeance
began to occupy her.

No, she thought after a moment or two, this was not the time to plan
revenge. Her first concern should be to try as hard as she could to find
and rescue Alalkomeneus. Vengeance would have to wait until later. If
Thanatos had stolen the little god-creature, she would steal him back.
Only then would she allow herself the time to properly evolve a plan
that would amply repay the trouble and heartache she was suffering.

She had almost reached the chambers of Iapetos when Philyra met her in
the corridor. "So there you are, child," her sister said, obviously
exasperated. "I've been searching all over for you. It's long past your
bedtime. Just what do you think you're doing, traipsing about out here?
Metis, if this keeps up, I'm not going to have any choice. I'll have to
send you back--"

Philyra stopped short, staring down at her sister's tear-streaked face.
Her indignation slipped away and she took the sobbing child in her arms.

Metis spilled out to her all that had happened, from the intrusion of
Thanatos into her room through her discovery that Alalkomeneus had
disappeared. During the recital, which was interrupted a number of times
while she tried to regain her breath, Metis omitted all reference to
their brother Proteus, whose presence on Olympos was still unknown to
Philyra. She had hidden Alalkomeneus in Crios's room in an attempt to
avoid Thanatos, who had been haunting the corridors; there was no need
to give every detail.

Outraged at the conduct of the god, Philyra nevertheless realized that
Thanatos stood in special favor with Kronos. Gently she led Metis back
toward her room, trying to comfort and calm her. The child clung to her.

The entrance hall of the chambers of Iapetos was now lit by a single
small lamp; except for Iapetos himself, who had not yet returned home,
the members of the family had retired for the night. Once in Metis's own
room, Philyra helped her sister undress and then tucked her into bed.
She sat beside her for a short while, at first talking softly to quiet
her and then simply keeping her company until she fell asleep. Finally,
walking on tiptoes, she let herself out of the room.

But Metis was not asleep. She lay very still, listening to the distant
sounds her sister made as she prepared to retire herself. When the
sounds ceased completely, the child swung out of bed and went quickly to
the wall peg where her short white chiton hung. She slipped into it,
wrapping and fastening it about herself with practiced, effortless
skill. She moved as quietly as she could out of her own room and toward
the entrance hall, where she paused to listen for almost a full minute.
She heard only the small, unidentifiable noises that any building makes,
even the palace of the gods.

She crossed the atrium and made her way down a short, narrow corridor.
Opening a door slowly, she inspected the dark room behind and then
stepped completely inside.

"Prometheus!" she whispered, feeling her way forward in the pale light
that streamed in through the window. "Wake up, Prometheus!"

"What?" a sleepy voice answered. A barely visible figure sat upright.

"Who's there?" another voice asked from the opposite side of the room.
Epimetheus was awake too.

"Shh!" she warned. "Please be quiet. I have to talk to you, and need
your help."

"Mine too?" Epimetheus asked.

The boys slipped out of their beds and joined her. Soon the three were
squatting close together on the floor in a patch of moonlight.

"Yes, you too." She told them much the same story she had told Philyra.

"But you don't know that Thanatos took him," Prometheus said when she
had finished.

"What else could have happened?"

"You shouldn't have left him alone," Epimetheus said.

"It's a little late to worry about that," Prometheus observed.

"She could have brought him to us. We wouldn't have let Thanatos take
him."

"Maybe you're right, but that didn't seem practical at the time," she
said. "Thanatos might have come in here. I did the best I could, and now
I need your help."

"You know I'll do anything I can for you," Prometheus said.

Epimetheus snickered loudly, and Prometheus glared at him.

"Just what's that supposed to mean?" Prometheus demanded.

"Oh, nothing, nothing at all," Epimetheus said, smiling slyly.

After a moment Prometheus ignored him, turning back to Metis. "What do
you want us to do?"

"Come with me. If Thanatos took him, then Alalkomeneus is probably in
one of Thanatos's rooms. I want to search for him and steal him back."

"I don't know," Epimetheus said. "None of us is supposed to go to the
private chambers of Lord Kronos. Even our father doesn't go there
without first being invited. It's not proper . . . proper . . ."

"Etiquette," Prometheus said, supplying the word for his brother.

"It's also not proper etiquette for Thanatos to do any of the things
he's done tonight," Metis said.

"I think Metis is right," Prometheus said after a few moments. "But
there are things to talk about first. We should plan in advance what
we're going to do. Do any of us know which rooms belong to Thanatos?
I've never been to Kronos's floor."

The others shook their heads.

"Then how are we going to find his rooms?"

Metis and Epimetheus had no answer.

"And what if we're caught? Either by Thanatos or by Lord Kronos? What
will we do then?"

Epimetheus shrugged. "I'd rather worry about it later, if it happens."

"That's not a very good way to approach a problem."

"But it may be the only way, this time," Metis said. "We don't have much
time. We can't make plans for everything that might happen. I'm afraid
we'll have to take things as they occur. Are you going to come or not?"

"All right. But I'd feel a lot better if we had more information,"
Prometheus said.

"So would I," Metis admitted.

Prometheus jumped up and went to >get cloaks. He threw one to his
brother and wrapped the other about his own lithe, bare body. Within
moments the three of them made their way out of the silent apartment and
set out at once for the stairway, chattering back and forth in excited
whispers once they were in the corridor.

They had nearly reached Kronos's floor when Prometheus silenced them.
"There's somebody below us, coming up!" he whispered. "I'm sure of
it--we have to hide." He led them up the last few steps to the topmost
floor of Olympos.

"I didn't hear anything," Epimetheus said.

"You weren't listening. Quick, let's get inside one of these rooms."

He pushed open the nearest door, and the others followed him inside. He
left the door open just enough to look out, and a moment later a female
figure came into view.

"It's Rhea," Prometheus said. As he watched, she entered a door not far
down the hall from them. He turned toward the others, invisible in the
darkness of the room. "Is everybody here? I can't see you."

"We're here," both Metis and Epimetheus assured him.

"Good. Rhea almost certainly was going to see Lord Kronos, so we
probably know which room he's in. That'll make it easier to search the
rest of the rooms, and less dangerous."

He turned back to the door and began to open it. Almost immediately he
pushed it closed again, bumping into his companions as he recoiled into
the room.

"What's the matter?" Epimetheus whispered.

"It's Eurybie, coming out of the room Rhea just went into!"

"That's interesting," Epimetheus said.

"Quiet." He pressed his ear to the door, trying to hear her departing
footsteps. He opened the door stealthily again, made sure the corridor
was clear, then led them out.

"All right," he said, pointing, "that's Kronos's room. Now all we have
to do is find Thanatos's."

"You take this side of the corridor," Metis said, "and I'll take the
other. Listen at each of the doors. If you hear anything inside, it's
probably Thanatos."

"And what am I supposed to do?" Epimetheus asked.

Metis considered for a moment, then said, "Well, why don't you start
down at the far end and work toward me. When we finish this side, we'll
help Prometheus."

Separating, they proceeded to listen at each door. Long minutes passed,
until finally they came together to whisper excitedly.

"What now?" Prometheus asked. "As far as we can tell, they're all
empty."

Metis grimaced. "Then we'll have to search. Quietly open each door and
look inside. We can do it the same way as before, Prometheus on one
side, Epimetheus and I working on the other."

"But just what are we looking for?" Epimetheus asked.

"Anything that doesn't look like it belongs to Lord Kronos."

They split up again and proceeded as Metis had suggested. Epimetheus
began at the far end of the corridor, and almost immediately signaled
excitedly to them.

"Look in here!" he said as they reached him, swinging in one of the
large double doors to expose a cluttered interior that could only have
belonged to Thanatos.

"And I thought your room was bad," Epimetheus told Metis.

She scowled at him, but did not answer.

"It certainly isn't Lord Kronos's room," Prometheus agreed. "Well, I
guess we'd better start searching--but be careful. Thanatos could be
asleep."

They carefully closed the doors behind them. Within minutes they had
explored the connected rooms. Thanatos was nowhere to be found. Nor was
Alalkomeneus. They gathered together in one of the rooms to talk.

Metis, on edge from the excitement of their nocturnal adventure, was
looking hopelessly about the room. "We'll have to search more carefully,
look inside everything-- anywhere that he might be hidden."

Prometheus shook his head. "Thanatos wouldn't keep him out here, not
when he could be locked in that last room. We have to find a way to open
that door."

They followed him to the rearmost room of the apartment, where he fell
once more to examining the huge brass door, attempting to discover the
secret of its lock.

"Be careful," Epimetheus warned. "What if Thanatos is inside there?"

Prometheus turned back toward them, frowning. "It doesn't matter. We
aren't going to be able to open this. I can't find anything that even
looks like a lock."

Metis, heartbroken at the failure of her efforts, sat down in a nearby
chair.

"Well, what do we do now?" Epimetheus asked.

"We might as well search as carefully as we can, so we're certain
Alalkomeneus isn't out here. Then, in the morning, we can talk to our
father and get him to talk to Lord Kronos. Maybe Lord Kronos will make
Thanatos give the man back."

Metis shook her head. "Thanatos will only deny knowing anything about
him."

"Maybe so, but--" He stopped suddenly, listening. "What's that noise?
Let's go!"

From the gallery directly outside the room in which they were talking
came the sound of huge, flapping wings. Through one of the windows Metis
caught a glimpse of something dark settling upon the balcony. A metallic
clang sounded loudly as they ran back through the connecting rooms
toward the corridor.

"Was it Thanatos?" Epimetheus asked as they closed the outer door behind
them. "Did he see us?"

"I don't know, but we'd better get out of here," Prometheus said.

Hearts pounding, the divine children traversed the corridor as silently
as they could in their agitated condition. They had almost reached the
stairway when the door to Kronos's room opened. Prometheus led them into
a nearby chamber, closing the door as Lady Rhea exited into the
corridor.

"Oh, we're going to get caught," Epimetheus whined.

"Quiet," Prometheus warned him, watching from the door. "She didn't see
us. She's going to the stairs."

"What about Thanatos?" Epimetheus said.

"He must not have seen us either. He hasn't come out of his room."

"Is she out of sight yet? I want to get back to our room."

Prometheus turned toward them. "Calm down. No one's seen us. We're all
right."

"Look at this," Metis whispered. She was standing next to Prometheus,
looking through the narrow opening. He turned to look again, then
whistled softly.

"Eurybie," he said, "coming back to Kronos's room. I wonder what that
means! Isn't anybody going to sleep tonight?"

"I don't care what it means," Epimetheus said. "Let's go home--now,
right away."

They waited until Eurybie had entered the private chambers of the King
of the Gods, then rushed for the stairs and descended as quickly as
possible.

FOURTEEN

Nalassa of the slender shoulders and fluttering eyes had been walking
since morning, with only occasional stops to rest her complaining feet
or to eat a few handfuls of apples or other fruit plucked from the trees
that grew along the path she followed. A number of times during the day
she had started to abandon her journey, especially when an invigorating
mountain stream or restful bower offered itself for her comfort; but
always she stopped for only a few minutes, dangling her feet in the
caressing silver water or lolling beneath the shade of towering cypress
trees, then once again taking up her path toward the north and Mount
Olympos.

The holiday spirit in which she had begun her journey rapidly
dissipated, and she soon began to question the wisdom of her decision
and to draw up objections of every sort. Her parents and sisters would
wonder where she was, and she should have gone back to tell them she
planned to visit Olympos. She had avoided doing that because she didn't
want to have to explain her actions; still, they would be concerned
about her, and their curiosity would have to be satisfied when she did
return.

A central objection lay behind all the others. Lord Proteus had piqued
her pride--a crime she might have overlooked with only minor difficulty.
But he had also awakened the first glimmers of love within her. The
combination of the two was inexcusable, particularly since she refused
to admit the latter.

She had as much right to visit Olympos as the ocean god. There was no
reason she shouldn't take advantage of the open invitation of the
Titans. She wasn't following Proteus. That he was going there simply
suggested the possibility of her own trip, that was all. Yet a part of
her realized that her motivations were more complicated, that she wanted
more than a holiday among the gods or the chance to take some little
revenge on Proteus.

She told herself the many ways in which she would rebuff him when he
once again decided to pay attention to her. He did find her attractive;
she had little doubt of that--though that little added still another
small eddy to the turmoil of her emotions. On Olympos, among the gods
and Titans, he would have to win her with delicacy and consideration,
not by swiftness and strength.

But on Olympos there were many goddesses, some more beautiful than she,
and some, undoubtedly, less concerned about the niceties of etiquette
and courtship. The god who had shown so little personal interest in her
this morning might show even less when surrounded by divine femininity.
He might not even notice her among such an assemblage.

She threw up her head, straightened her shoulders, and threw out her
chest at such thoughts. What did she care about the ocean god? She could
ignore him just as easily as he could ignore her--and there were many
gods on Olympos, as many gods as goddesses. Not all of them could be
thoughtless and indifferent to her charms.

Yet he had been very tender when it mattered most, no more forceful than
necessary to overcome her resistance. She was still unsure exactly why
she had let him catch her-- certainly she had not intended to. What
perverse whim had led her to reveal herself by bolting across his path
as he came toward her in the moonlight? She had been well concealed
among the rocks and bushes, watching his approach. He would have passed
close to her without ever being aware of her presence if she had merely
continued to lie perfectly still and remained quiet.

Instead she had jumped up and run across a wide, open area, an action
that, in retrospect, seemed designed to tempt him into chasing her. Of
course, she expected to have little trouble eluding him among the stark
cliffs that had been her playground since childhood, where--to be
completely honest--

he was rather awkward. Instead of easily outdistancing him, she hung
back, toying with him--the thought made her blush-- and letting him
almost reach her before she scrambled away, just out of his grasp. As
the chase continued, she delayed her reactions still more, so that each
time he came closer and closer to catching her, and at last his
outstretched hand, instead of slipping ineffectually from her slender
wrist, held fast, yanking her back. Powerful arms encircled her, pinning
her helplessly against him.

Still, she thought somewhat wistfully, he was very handsome, and the
tenderness in his eyes and hands had served at least partially to quiet
the helpless, trembling creature she had become. If, indeed, the time
had come for her to be caught, she could have fared far worse. Perhaps,
like fruit ripened and ready to fall, her season had finally arrived.
Perhaps her long-standing inner equilibrium, delicately balanced between
the growing needs of her body and her apprehensions concerning a final
step into full adulthood, had at last been tilted a trifle too far by
the vision of divine Proteus as he strode toward her in the moonlight.

Despite such thoughts she continued walking toward Olympos. Night began
to fall, and now, far from home, she wished that she had traveled
faster, or that she had not undertaken the journey at all. She walked a
little more briskly, a cool breeze brushing through her long hair. The
majestic might of Olympos was just becoming visible, thrusting upward
from among the innumerable smaller mountains and hills in the distance.
The final, weak rays of daylight fled and the moon began to rise, large
and full.

The distance gave way beneath her divine stride. Stepping across a
river, she detoured around a high bluff. As she drew nearer to Olympos,
she began to dread the ascent that lay before her. Her pace slowed and
she considered resting for the night. She had not remembered how steep
the slopes were, or how high towered the jagged peaks of the mountain.
The climb would be difficult beyond anything she had imagined, and she
began to wonder if it were not beyond her capabilities. Her father, of
course, would merely, have metamorphosed himself into a flying creature;
or, as when he had taken her to Olympos with him, he would have caused
huge wings to grow from his shoulder blades, that he might carry her
upward. Like many naiads and forest nymphs, she had never mastered the
ability to change forms. At most she could cause a sort of blurring of
her features, but then after an instant she invariably returned to her
natural state.

She was getting quite close to her goal now, and her pace had slackened
considerably. Nearby was a low, rounded hill, and she used it as a stool
to sit upon while she contemplated her situation. In amazement she
noticed the condition of her short tunic. Even in the moonlight she
could see that it had grown very dirty during the day's journey--almost
gray with dirt--and her legs bore a number of nasty scratches from the
times she had been careless in pushing her way through thickets of
trees.

The sea lay at some distance to her right; nearer, glinting in the
moonlight, a number of small mountain brooks twisted and babbled their
ways downward. It took her only a few moments to discard the idea of
bathing tonight; she was far too tired. Instead she would rest for a few
minutes, then find some comfortable place to sleep. In the morning she
would bathe and wash her tunic, then lie in the sun while it dried.
There would be time enough to worry about how she would reach the summit
of Olympos; she was too tired to think clearly about it now.

She was about to force herself to rise and begin looking for a place to
sleep, when a clanging noise attracted her attention. Not far away a
dark, winged form was settling upon a rocky crest. Large, gangly birds
followed it down, most of them perching on the rocks around the feet of
the winged god, but two or three attempting to settle upon the god's
shoulders, only to have him brush them away.

As soon as Nalassa saw these intruders upon her serenity, she rolled
silently to the far side of the hill upon which she had been sitting.
She pressed herself against the cool surface and watched in absolute
silence as the god, tall and slender and beardless, folded his vulture
wings against his back and turned his attention briefly to the large
brass cage he had set upon the rocks at his feet. His vulture
companions, of which there were nearly a dozen, had settled all about
him, though some still stretched and fluttered their wings. One perched
atop the cage, peering down at the creatures within and occasionally
making short, pecking motions toward them.

She was reasonably sure the god had not seen her, and so her safest
course lay in remaining perfectly still until he left.

He was looking around, first out toward the sea, then inland. He checked
the cage, apparently to make sure the door was securely closed.
Spreading his huge wings in a languid motion, he rose into the air and
flew inland, soon disappearing among the peaks of a small group of
mountains.

Nalassa watched until he was out of sight, then rose and crept forward
to more carefully inspect the cage. The vultures had remained, as though
to guard it, and so she did not approach any closer than necessary to
see that within the brass enclosure were nearly two dozen of the small
godlike creatures that Proteus had pointed out to her that morning. A
few of them were examining the glinting brass that kept them prisoners.
The bars were loosely set in their sockets and rattled when touched.

The vultures had not seemed to notice her approach; but now, as she
turned to retreat to her hiding place, one of them began to screech and
flap its wings. Rising into the air, it darted toward her, and the
others followed its lead. Even though it was only a bird, not even as
big as her fist, its sharp beak and raking talons could cause severe
pain and even blind her. She swatted at them, backing away and trying to
protect her face. One clung to her, sinking its claws into the soft
flesh of her bare arm and pecking at her breasts.

A black shadow swooped downward. The winged god had deceived her, flying
away only to circle back. A rock slid from beneath her foot and she
stumbled just as he landed beside her, reaching out with an emaciated
arm that, nevertheless, contained great strength.

As he lunged for her, she rolled away along the gravel surface, barely
managing to elude his grasp. Nimbly she regained her feet and ran
between two boulders, then darted into the greater darkness among
overhanging rocks. There were no trees here, and little foliage in the
barren area where she had chosen to rest. She had to find concealment
among the boulders and shadows near a precipicelike hill. Panting for
breath, she found an ink-black recess and hid herself, fighting to quiet
her heavy breathing. From not far away she could hear the crunching
sounds of small rocks being ground together beneath the god's feet as he
walked. She pressed herself deeper into the recess. The crunching sound
seemed to be coming closer.

She was trembling with almost uncontrolled fear, with a

stark terror that the still-rational portion of her mind found
surprising. Her mouth was very dry, parched. She tried to listen, but
now could not hear him. Far off a mountain brook still gurgled, and the
pounding of her own heart seemed very loud.

Had he left? Or was he waiting for her to move, to show herself? If he
had left, she should have heard the flapping of his wings.

No--she heard something now, the sound of creeping footsteps, of a god
moving forward over the rough ground one step at a time. She held her
breath, ready to bolt from her hiding place should she be discovered.
Her muscles tensed in anticipation, ready to carry her scampering over
the rocky ground. Very slowly the footsteps came closer, and now she
could just barely see the god; moonlight glinted from his pale white
face. His long black cloak was wrapped completely around his lean body,
and his face turned slowly from side to side as he advanced, his dull
eyes searching the black shadows.

Now his gaze turned directly toward her. Her muscles trembled as she
forced herself to remain completely still. Did he see her? He seemed to
be looking directly at her, but she thought--hoped--the darkness hid her
from him.

He continued walking. She waited until he was out of sight, having
turned a corner in the ravine, then crept from the shadows of her hiding
place and moved quickly in the opposite direction.

She had taken only a few steps, though, when a vulture began to shriek
loudly from high above her. Within moments the sky was filled with the
birds, each screeching fiercely as it darted downward, swooping at her
head and face with raking talons. She ran, holding her hands to her
face. The ravine twisted first one way, then another, but the vultures
followed above her, refusing to let her escape. At the mouth of the
ravine she came face to face with the god.

This time she did not try to avoid him; she ran straight toward him, and
as his arms reached out for her, she threw herself against him, knocking
him to one side. Her ploy was only partially successful. His fingers
closed upon her arm and swung her back. She struck at his face and chest
with her clenched fists and tried to kick with her bare feet.

For a few moments he dodged her blows, which seemed more to annoy him
than to hurt, but then he struck her across

the mouth with the back of his hand. She staggered, the strength gone
out of her, and sank slowly to the ground at his feet.

Dimly, as though observed from a distance, she was aware of his actions.
Crouching beside her, he drew a dagger from within his cloak. With it he
cut long strips of cloth from her tunic, then proceeded to bind her
hands and feet and finally to gag her. Throwing her over one shoulder,
he carried her back to where he had left the brass cage. He grasped its
handle with one hand, then spread his wings.

Accompanied by his entourage of vultures, Thanatos began the long ascent
to Olympos, the barely concious naiad over one shoulder and the brass
cage clanging in his hand.

FIFTEEN

Once Kronos and Eurybie passed him on their way to the king's bedroom,
Proteus slipped from his hiding place and moved quickly through an open
doorway toward another series of rooms. It was his intention to search
the personal chambers of Kronos for Aigaion, the missing sea god.

He moved swiftly, even in the form of Momos, returning to the outer
gallery to gain entry to other suites and venturing out into the main
corridor to procure a torch when he needed light. Only the bedroom of
the king and the chambers of Thanatos avoided his inspection. The sound
of Thanatos fluttering about his apartment warned Proteus away before he
could be detected.

Finally, unable to locate the cell in which Aigaion was imprisoned or
any clue to the god's whereabouts, Proteus returned to the outer
gallery. Transforming himself into a gull, he swooped downward through
the night air, flying completely around the palace. Only a few
apartments still showed signs of wakefulness, and he flew past each of
these. One drew his attention particularly, so that he perched outside
to observe the inhabitants.

It was the apartment of Themis, the former wife of Iapetos. Iapetos was
with her, standing near the door, apparently about to depart. As Proteus
watched, the Titan turned suddenly and took the goddess in his arms. She
seemed not to respond to his impassioned kiss at first, but gradually
her arms slipped around him. When their lips finally parted, she was
clinging to him. A moment later he left her. As the door closed, Themis
threw herself upon the nearby couch and began to cry.

Proteus continued back to Metis's room. He found her there, but not
alone. Her sister Philyra sat beside her, her expression very serious as
she lectured the child. She had caught her trying to sneak back to her
room after the unsuccessful attempt to find Alalkomeneus in the chambers
of Thanatos.

Assuming his own form, Proteus stepped into the room. "Not long ago," he
told Philyra, "Klymene would have been preaching to you, not you to
Metis."

Philyra leaped up from the bed at his sudden appearance, a startled cry
on her lips. The cry became an exclamation of delight as she recognized
him.

"Brother!" She ran toward him, threw her arms around him as warmly as
Metis had. "Oh, it's been so long since I've seen you."

Metis had jumped out of bed as well, and was now standing beside them.
"Proteus, you won't believe what happened--"

He drew back from them. "Quiet, both of you. You'll wake the others."

"What's this?" Philyra asked, turning toward Metis. "You knew he was
here?''

Metis nodded. "He didn't want me to tell you."

She looked back at her brother, more puzzled than hurt.

Proteus nodded. "I'll explain it all to you in a few minutes. I wanted
to have the opportunity to look around before anyone knew I was here.
Even now it's still important--at least until I decide just what has to
be done--that my presence be known only to you two."

"You mean you don't want Klymene to know?" Philyra asked. -

He nodded. "No one but the three of us. Not Klymene, nor Iapetos, nor
anyone else, until I tell you otherwise."

"If that's what you wish, brother," Philyra said, "but Klymene will
certainly be disappointed. She loves you very dearly and speaks of you
often to her husband and children."

Metis interrupted. "I have to tell you what happened. Thanatos stole
Alalkomeneus from--"

"Quiet child," he warned her. "Keep your voice low. I want to hear what
you have to say, but speak softly."

She did as he bid her, quickly relating the entire story. As she reached
the end of it, Philyra said, "And I had gone to look in on her, and
found her gone. The child is becoming incorrigible." She laughed. "Not
that she didn't have provocation, but I was dreadfully worried about her
and didn't know what to do, since Lord Iapetos was still not home. ..."

"I am going to take care of Thanatos," Metis said.

Proteus looked down at Metis. "I'm sorry," he said simply. "I know you
were very attached to the little creature, and it certainly was my fault
that you left him in Crios's room."

"No," Metis said. "It's not your fault. Thanatos wanted him and would
have kept trying until he got him."

"Possibly so. It's still possible that you may be able to get him back.
Perhaps tomorrow I'll be able to help you. I want to learn more about
Thanatos anyway--but I must tell you, there are far more serious things
going on here on Olympos, and I'm afraid most of my time--much of your
time as well, both of you--will have to be devoted to them."

"What are you talking about?" Philyra asked.

"Okeanos has sent me here. His friend Aigaion, a brother of Lord Nereus,
has disappeared--apparently while visiting Olympos. Can you tell me
anything about him, Philyra?"

She shook her head. "I saw him here once or twice. I never even stopped
to think about it when I didn't see him again."

"From what I heard tonight, I believe Kronos has made him a
prisoner--here on Olympos, I think. It seems that Kronos forced him to
admit to being part of a conspiracy by Okeanos and Nereus to overthrow
Kronos."

"But that's impossible," Philyra exclaimed. "Father would never do such
a thing."

"Nor would Nereus," Proteus said. "Father sent me here to help Aigaion,
but I've found something of greater concern to us. Kronos plans to use
this imaginary plot as an excuse to depose our father and Lord Nereus.
At the wedding of Eurybie, when both of them are together and off guard,
Kronos will take them prisoner. Probably he plans to send them to
Tartaros. A number of Titans are conspiring with Kronos. If his plan
succeeds, Crios and Eurybie will be the new rulers of the sea.".

"And our poor sister . . . ?" Philyra said.

Proteus nodded. "Queen Doris will accompany her husband, I suppose." He
hesitated. "And the ocean will be ruled by Iapetos and Klymene."

"That can't be true," Philyra said. "I don't believe it."

He shrugged. "It's true, though Klymene is unaware of the role she is to
play. Iapetos hasn't told her yet."

Metis was shaking her head vehemently. "You must be wrong, brother. The
first thing you should do is tell Klymene. Things can't be as they
seem."

"I hope you're right, but no, I don't want Klymene to know any of this.
Not until I've had time to learn all I can and to think all of this
through."

"But certainly there's no danger now," Philyra said. "Not now that we
know about it and will warn our father and King Nereus."

"There's more danger than ever."

"But if they're warned, they can simply avoid the wedding," she
protested.

"You forget our father. It would be cowardice to avoid danger, or at
least that's how he'll feel. As to Nereus, he won't flee either. No,
they'll both walk right into the danger."

"But they'll defend themselves. Certainly our father will."

He nodded. "Indeed he will, and--"

"And that would mean open hostility among the gods," Metis said.

"Yes," he continued, "and the world as you know it would cease to exist.
The gods would take sides, and the order which has made possible all
that has been built will crumble. And in the end both Nereus and Okeanos
might be overthrown anyway."

"What can we do?" Philyra asked.

Proteus ran his fingers through his dark hair. "Warn Okeanos and Nereus,
of course, to put them on their guard. More importantly than that, I
think, we must try to do what we can here. Perhaps there is a way we can
break up this conspiracy before things have gone too far. If I can find
Aigaion and free him, it might weaken Kronos's position. I don't think
he would abandon his plan just because his witness is gone, but the
other Titans might be discouraged. From what I overheard Kronos saying,
I think Aigaion must still be here on Olympos. At the very least he
can't be far away. Kronos plans to take him to the wedding in his own
entourage."

He paused for a moment, then continued. "Tonight the moon is full. We
have until the new moon, when the wedding will be held. It won't be
easy. Kronos is not only powerful, but extremely clever. His cunning
must not be underestimated. ..."

"Could we do to him as he would do to our father?" Metis asked.

"No. Not only because we probably aren't capable of such a thing, but
because the end result would be the same. Some of the gods would
continue to support Kronos. They would fight against us. Our only course
right now is to learn all we can so we can be ready to twist any
opportunity to our advantage--and to try to find Aigaion."

"I still can't believe Iapetos would have anything to do with this,"
Philyra said.

"I saw him with my own eyes. I heard him discuss this plot with his
fellow conspirators."

"Perhaps he, too, plans to work against Kronos. Perhaps he's only
pretending," Metis said.

"Brother," Philyra said, "here is something that might be of use to us,
though I don't like to say so. Lord Kronos has taken a sudden interest
in me. He's sent me a valuable gift and invited me to breakfast tomorrow
morning. I've been upset over it all day, but Klymene says I can't
tactfully decline his present or his invitation."

"What are you suggesting?" Proteus asked.

An embarrassed flush spread across her face. "I was thinking that
someone . . . someone in that position might be able to learn things we
couldn't otherwise learn."

He laughed. "Philyra, are you volunteering to give yourself to him to
gain his confidence?''

Her embarrassment became extreme. "No! You know I couldn't do that. I--I
was only thinking that if I--if I toyed with him for a few days, keeping
him at a distance but--"

Proteus shook his head. "That's very noble of you, but it wouldn't work.
He isn't someone to toy with, and I doubt you could hide your true
feelings."

"I suppose you're right," she said softly.

"There's something I should tell both of you," Proteus said. "Metis, I
mentioned earlier that I had seen you and the

Muses when you found Alalkomeneus and the other men. I was across the
plain from you, in a valley. I fell into a prophetic trance. There was a
young water nymph with me, and afterward she told me what I had said."

"What was it?" both sisters asked, leaning forward.

"I'm going to tell you. It would seem to apply to what is happening here
on Olympos. You know that when I speak of the future, it is often in
riddles and difficult or impossible to interpret. I want to remind you
of that."

"Go on," Metis said. "What was it?"

"This is what I said, as best,the nymph could remember it: 'Change
follows change when god devours god. Titan against Titan, god against
god . . . power unleashed, force undreamt. . . . The gull shall weep,
the eagle cease to soar, when the white mare rears her hooves and the
broken willow pierces their hearts.'"

" 'The gull shall weep . . .' " Philyra said. "The gull must be our
father--he often takes that shape."

"And the eagle would be Kronos," Metis said.

"Our father shall weep and Lord Kronos shall cease to soar--does that
mean that he will cease to rule? Oh, what does it mean, brother?"

He shrugged. "Perhaps that is it. It seems likely."

"Then we are doomed to failure," Philyra said, "for whatever we do, our
father shall lose."

"Not necessarily," he said, seeming suddenly very weary. "Our father
would weep if he were forced to harm his own brother. The prophecy could
be read that way."

"But Titan will fight Titan--and that's just what you're trying to
avoid. Titan against Titan, god against god'--with terrible new forces
unleashed. Doesn't that mean that we will fail if we try to prevent all
this from happening? Change will follow change and god will devour
god--isn't that what you said? Doesn't that mean that the gods will
fight against each other, whatever we do?"

He shook his head. "Change follows change when god devours god. If we
can keep the gods from fighting each other, none of that need happen."

" "The gull shall weep, the eagle cease to soar, when ..." What was the
last part of it?" Philyra asked.

" '. . . when the white mare rears her hooves and the broken willow
pierces their hearts,' " Proteus repeated.

"Who's the white mare?" Philyra demanded. "What's the broken willow?"

Proteus shrugged. "The interpretation lies hidden in the future."

"Proteus," Metis said, "couldn't the gull refer to you as well as to our
father?"

"That has occurred to me. I don't think we can learn very much from this
prophecy now. Too much is in doubt, but I felt I should tell you about
it."

He looked wearily around the room. "It's late and I'm growing tired.
Philyra, may I sleep here in Metis's room?"

"Her bed's small. I'll bring blankets for matting."

"Yes, please. I'll be quite comfortable on the floor."

While Metis prepared for bed and Philyra went to procure blankets,
Proteus returned to the gallery and leaned over the railing to draw up
shreds of cloud from far below. When enough of the nebulous material had
collected in the palms of his hands, he stared down fixedly at it. The
wisps began to form themselves into the shape of a living creature,
coalescing and darkening. It turned deep green, and except for its eyes
and mouth, was shaped like a fish; but now Proteus commanded hawk wings
to grow from its back. The creature heaved rhythmically at first, then
began to twist and wriggle. He stroked it until it started to make soft,
almost mewing sounds.

He raised the creature so that its deep eyes, embued with intelligence,
looked into his own. "I send you to Lord Okeanos, King of Ocean Depths.
Fly swiftly with your wings, swim as rapidly as your fish tail can
propel you through the blue depths, and say to Lord Okeanos--'From
Proteus, your son: Greetings, keen-sighted Titan whose ears are as sharp
as his eyes. The hunter does not turn back when the spoor is old, the
trail long and treacherous. Beware--the eagle hunts the gull beneath the
new moon.' Say these things to Lord Okeanos and to none other."

The creature purred as he spoke.

"Repeat the message," he commanded.

The creature obeyed, speaking in an odd, whispering voice.

"Good." Proteus threw the phantom messenger far out into the night. He
stood there watching as it spread its wings and began to fly in the
direction of the palace of Okeanos.

Philyra had just entered with blankets for him. With her help he spread
them on the floor and then lay down.

As Proteus drifted toward sleep, elsewhere in the palace another god
stirred toward consciousness. He had been sleeping for a very long time.
While he slept he did not have to think or remember, and wakefulness
inevitably led to one or the other of those painful occupations.

In his still groggy state he started to stretch the stiffness out of his
body. His body refused to stretch, refused to move at all. He tried to
open his eyes and look around, but everything was blackness. He could
not even be sure if his eyes were open, because he could not move his
eyelids. Then he started to remember. He was pinned down somehow, held
fast, and no amount of exertion would serve to move an arm or leg or
finger or toe.

He was not even sure now whether he was lying down or standing up. His
muscles had been locked in the same position for so long that he could
no longer determine their state with accuracy. He wondered how long he
had been like this, just what had happened. The memory eluded him, and
he turned his mind instead to his more immediate problem.

He would make one last attempt to move some part of his body. He would
flex the index finger of his right hand--not actually move it, but flex
it ever so slightly. For a few moments he gathered his strength in
preparation, but then he realized suddenly that he could not even find
his finger. He could no longer sense where it was located.

What had happened? Why could he not remember?

Aigaion, the sea god, wondered if his mind was becoming frozen too.

SIXTEEN

For Alalkomeneus the day had been no more extraordinary than the three
that had proceeded it, since he had battered his way out of the dark
warmth of the mud womb in which he had developed.

Lacking both language and experience, he perceived rather than
thought--and all the world seemed to be his to perceive. When the wind
blew across the plain, it swaddled him in the lush, sweet smell of tall
grass. The crackling of dried leaves beneath his feet provided exquisite
sensual delight.

Soon there were others of his kind, but he paid them little notice. He
accepted them as he accepted the earth and the sky, the gentle caress of
the breeze and the soft murmuring of the stream. He had an overwhelming
need to learn the taste of everything, and when an acorn cracked beneath
his strong teeth, he discovered the sweet kernel within. When he ate
many of them, the discomfort within him went away, replaced by a warm
satiety that made him want to lie for a long time in the soft grass.

The second day there were more creatures like himself, and still more on
the third. One tried to push him away from the thick pile of acorns he
had gathered, but he pushed back. The man fell down and made loud,
peculiar sounds with his mouth.

One of the men learned to throw rocks, making them splash in the stream,
and before long Alalkomeneus and most of the others joined him. There
were small, winged creatures-- not the insects that buzzed and fluttered
about constantly, but other, larger creatures which settled in the ash
and oak trees and made lovely warbling sounds. Occasionally these flying
things settled upon the ground, pecking among the grass, and some of the
men found amusement in throwing rocks at them. Alalkomeneus threw, too,
even though he liked the sounds they made and did not want them to fly
away.

The birds always flew off ... all but one. Its wings would not flap
properly. The men kept throwing stones at it. Alalkomeneus wished that
it would go away, because now it made harsh, squawking sounds, not the
pretty ones he liked. Finally it grew quiet, and Alalkomeneus wandered
off to find other diversions.

He came upon the bird later, as evening was approaching, and was
surprised to see that it was still there, partly covered by jagged
rocks. It was even more colorful than before, with a red wetness over
much of its body. He nudged it, but it refused to move by itself. He
cleared away the rocks and picked it up. The head hung limply to one
side and the wet redness transferred itself to his fingers and hands. No
matter how hard he shook the creature, it refused to sing or even to
make the harsh sounds he disliked. He did not like the way the red
wetness felt on his hands, and he dropped the bird so that he could wipe
them on the grass.

Thus passed his days, in dimly perceived needs, in simple sensual
delights and instinctive fears. The fears came upon him most often at
night, when the world became dark around him and the haunting cries of
hunter and hunted spoke directly to his nervous system. The distant
cough of a lion always made him shudder.

And then Metis and the other goddesses intruded upon his three-day-old
world, snatching him from his peers. Once he recovered from the
paralysis that had overwhelmed him, he accepted Olympos as he had
accepted the world below. The walls of the palace loomed around him, so
high that he was not really aware that he was within an enclosure. The
very atmosphere of Olympos made his skin tingle with life and
well-being. When Metis held him against her breast, the perfume of her
body--infinitely delicate, yet full and rich-- intoxicated his senses,
lulling him into drowsy comfort beyond anything he had experienced. Her
warmth crept into his bones and quieted every fear and emotion, so that
he wanted nothing more than to have her go on holding him.

As the gods talked--Metis, Prometheus and Epimetheus, Philyra and
Klymene--the divine music of their voices danced and twirled within his
brain. He watched their every movement with wonder, overwhelmed by the
perfect grace of their slightest gestures. The sight and sound of them,
even the most awkward of them, made his senses spark and tingle, so that
whenever he was away from them he sought to regain the enchanted vision
denied him.

Then there was Thanatos, whose mere presence unleashed waves of
terror--a mindless, gibbering, instinctive fear that ignited every
molecule of his being. Such a fear could not be overcome, but it could
be momentarily forgotten. When he saw Metis, his goddess, wince and cry
out from the god's blows, he rushed forward to pound upon Thanatos's
foot. The god seemed not even to feel his attack, and Alalkomeneus fell
backward next to an enormous shard from a broken vase. The shard was as
large as a boulder, though not nearly as heavy. Lifting it above his
head, he ran forward to throw it. Instead he stumbled, and the jagged
point came down against the god's ankle.

He was content after that, cuddled against her, bathed in the perfume of
her skin and the music of her voice. He was content until she left him
closed up, alone, in the room of the Titan Crios. Almost immediately
loneliness and loss overwhelmed him. He began to search for a way out of
the room, that he might once again drench himself in the warmth of the
goddess.

Along the base of each wall ran a frieze of red and black silhouettes
depicting forest and plain, antelope, boar, and bison. The landscape was
nearly life-size. Alalkomeneus, innocent of pictorial representations,
approached it as soon as he discovered he could not follow Metis through
the door. The flat surface puzzled him, and he felt his way along it,
searching for a point at which he could enter the peculiar vista. In the
course of his exploration he discovered a crevice. Almost completely
hidden by the black silhouette of which it was a part, it was further
camouflaged by the shadows that obscured that portion of the room.

He pulled at the opening and a few pieces of a rocklike substance
crumbled away. Soon the ragged fissure was large enough for him to
squirm through. Inside, the opening flared into a tunnel-like passage,
worn smooth and almost completely circular. The smell of age hung
heavily in the air, and within a few steps of the entrance the darkness
became so intense that he could distinguish nothing. The man stopped
near the mouth of the passage, hesitating as he became more and more
uneasy. The smooth walls and hoary odor made his scalp prickle. He
turned to climb back out into the room, but slipped on one of the rock
fragments. Before he could catch himself, he rolled down the steeply
inclined surface. His head struck heavily against the smooth stone
floor, and he tumbled downward into the utter blackness.

When he regained consciousness he was lying in a nearly horizontal
section of the passage. His head and limbs ached, but the thick clothing
in which Metis had dressed him--which he had found so annoying
earlier--had saved most of his body from other damage. In both
directions the tunnel sloped upward, and so he could not tell from which
direction he had come. After a few minutes he rose and began walking.
When the incline became extreme he crawled forward on his hands and
knees.

Tired and uneasy, his mind filled with images of Metis and the other
gods, he followed the twists and turns of the passage. A number of times
the tunnel veered into a dead end and he was forced to return to the
main passage. From behind the wall at one of these dead ends he could
clearly hear the distant voices of gods. He pounded against the rocky
surface until his hands stung, and yelled in his small, human voice, but
no one seemed to hear him.

The tunnel remained more or less horizontal for some distance, then
turned upward. His only awareness of time was in how tired and hungry he
was becoming, but a number of hours must have elapsed. He stopped to
rest more and more often. Each time images of the gods and the gnawing
of hunger made him resume his journey. The path continued upward,
assuming an inclination that made walking even more difficult and
tiring.

At last a light came into view, dim and far away. He rushed forward,
panting for breath. As he neared it, the light increased in size until
he could see-that the entire area of the passage was open at that point.
A foul smell, at first faint, grew in intensity.

He stopped at the edge of the passageway, where it opened into a room of
the palace. Unlike the entrance in Crios's room, which was almost at
floor level, this exit was high on the wall, just below the ceiling.
From the edge of this precipice he looked down upon a chamber lit by
wall lamps. Almost immediately he recognized the dark-mantled figure
that moved about among the many tables. At the sight of him Alalkomeneus
recoiled, stumbling back into the dark passage.

Fear gripped him, but so did curiosity. Behind him lay only the endless
tunnel. Slowly, stealthily, he crawled back toward the lip of the
passage. Lying at full length, he positioned himself so that only his
eyes and the topmost portion of his head protruded into the room. In
fearful fascination he watched the actions of the god.

Thanatos had returned to the room only a short time before. Nalassa,
bound with strips cut from her tunic, lay huddled near a wall. She was
still gagged. On a broad table the god had set his brass cage; inside it
Alalkomeneus could recognize other creatures like himself.

The god was moving quickly back and forth, occupied with his work. He
spoke aloud, perhaps to the naiad, perhaps to himself. Suddenly he went
to the cage, pulled open a door on its top and thrust in his hand. He
brought out a squirming, shrieking man.

Thanatos carried the man to the table he had prepared. Laying him on it
face up, he held the squirming body in place with one hand while the
other reached for a small brass blade. With a single deft motion the god
pulled the gleaming instrument across the man's neck. The head popped
away from the body and blood gushed from the neck in pulsing spurts. The
body twitched for a few seconds, then lay still.

Watching in mingled horror and fascination from his high vantage point,
Alalkomeneus had seen all that had happened. He saw the red wetness
spout from the body and remembered the bird that refused to sing or fly
away. He did not understand what had taken place, but suddenly he felt
very bad inside. Edging back from the opening, he rose to his feet and
ran back down the passageway. He ran until the light was no longer
visible behind him, then collapsed upon the floor. . The two images--the
limp, red-smeared bird and the creature so like himself, but with head
and body separated and red, sticky wetness gushing out--kept rising
within his brain. Mentally he kept hearing the shrill shrieks of the man
and the hoarse squawking of the bird as it tried to flap its broken
wings.

He started running again, trying to escape the images and sounds, but
they followed him, stayed within his mind. He ran until his legs refused
to run anymore. Collapsing on the floor, he moaned softly for a minute
or two, then slept. He dreamed red and haunting dreams.

SEVENTEEN

Sleep had come upon the palace of Olympos. One by one the gods and
goddesses had yawned and stretched and finally retired for the night.
Stillness settled upon the palace, and in sleep's train followed
capricious dreams.

Kronos, King of the Gods, slept fitfully. Eurybie slumbered beside him,
untroubled, her head pillowed upon his massive biceps. In his dream the
slight weight of the goddess's head against his arm, and the light
pressure of the furs that covered him, seemed confining--seemed to grow
more confining with each moment. In his dream he struggled to escape the
growing, smothering imprisonment--not of these insignificant weights,
but of the cramped cavern within the earth in which Ouranos, his father,
was planning to put him.

Dimly, in some half-awake portion of his mind, he realized that the old
dream of his youth had come again to torment him; the realization served
to reassure him for only a moment. The small, still aware part of his
mind was swept under by sleep, and again his towering father stalked the
world, the ground trembling beneath his feet.

Terror-stricken, mud-streaked, the Kronos of old ran to hide himself
among the hills and tall trees. In the distance he spied Gaia, his
mother, and now he ran toward her, threw himself into her arms, sobbing
in fear.

From behind her back she brought forth a huge sickle, toothed with
jagged pieces of adamant, and thrust it toward his trembling hand.

Beads of translucent ichor hung suspended from the teeth of the weapon,
glinting in the moonlight. Now he noticed that in her other hand his
mother held a severed head, the head of Nereus. Wide eyes glared at
Kronos as the mouth opened and closed, like that of a fish. Words
drifted from the mouth, rather than being spoken, coming toward him in
slow waves.

"Father, beware thy child . . . Father, beware thy child . . . beware
thy child ... thy child ... thy child . . ."

Now he realized that his mother no longer held the sickle; instead it
was the sword made for him by Iapetos, with which he planned to
decapitate Nereus. Clear droplets of ichor dangled from it. His mother
was speaking too. The words came like the low voice of the wind, and he
struggled to listen and comprehend.

"Child, beware thy child ... thy child ... thy child . . ."

Divine blood dripped from the ragged neck of Nereus and from the
gleaming edge of the sword, bubbling as it touched the ground. From it
began to grow goddesses. Within moments they were full-size, three
goddesses draped in black night, their hair bristling with serpents.
Gaia was gone, replaced by the centermost of them, who held the bronze
sword in one hand and the head of Nereus in the other. The goddess on
her right held an upraised torch; the one on her left, a long, cruel
whip. They had continued, unbroken, the chanting of Gaia and Nereus,
their voices filling him with dread.

"Father, beware thy child . . . child, beware thy child . . ."

The head of Nereus transformed itself, so that now the middle goddess
held an infant by its feet, ichor dripping from its decapitated neck. As
she proffered the body to him . . .

Kronos awakened, sitting upright in bed. Eurybie stirred at his side.

"What's wrong?" she asked, yawning lazily.

Shivering in the dim light of a single small lamp, he sat hugging
himself and pulling the covers up around his chest and shoulders. "Light
more lamps. By the earth and sky, Eurybie," he cried, "light more
lamps!"

She jumped out of bed and did as he requested. When she had finished she
said, "There, there, my lord, all the lamps are lit and everything's all
right."

Wiping the sweat from his brow, he turned upon her savagely. "Be quiet,
will you!"

She tried to put her arm around his shoulder. He shook it away.

"My, it must have been a very bad dream."

"Just leave me alone," he said. "Go away."

Drawing herself up haughtily, she dressed and left the room without
speaking another word. He heard the outer door of the apartment close
behind her.

Kronos remained sitting on the side of the bed, still shivering and
hugging himself. He kept pressing his eyes shut, as though to keep out
the dream and the memories it stirred. Finally he took a heavy cloak
from one of the wall pegs and carried it out onto the gallery of the
apartment. He caused enormous eagle wings to grow from his shoulders,
then flew down from the palace, not toward the earth below but to a
distant peak of Mount Olympos.

Reabsorbing his wings, he wrapped himself in the cloak and began to walk
among the craggy rocks. Here the air was cold. Snow lay upon the rough
path he followed.

Below him lay the sea of clouds, reflecting upward the diminishing light
of the moon. Where the clouds parted he could look down upon vast
stretches of hill and mountain and forest. He walked slowly, sunk in
deep and troubled thought.

His mind turned automatically to the long years of his childhood, when
his father and mother walked the hills and forests in the form of
immortal gods. He and his brothers and sisters had lived in squalor and
ignorance, worse even than the wild animals. Having no thick fur to
shield them from the cold, they plastered their skins with mud to keep
themselves warm. They devoured raw cattle and deer plucked up from the
vast herds that swarmed upon the grasslands. They fought each other
continually, for scraps of food or for a cavern large enough to serve as
shelter.

From time to time he would visit his enormous mother, receiving joyously
the thoughtless kisses and caresses she bestowed. He would sit and watch
her for hours. She was a vision of loveliness, lying upon her back in
fields of flowers and thinking her unknowable thoughts. He yearned for
her caresses and soft words whenever he was away from her.

And he despised the brutality of his brothers. As the youngest of the
Titans, he had spent his earliest years hiding from them in their wrath,
yearning for the day of his maturity, when they would tremble at his
advance--when they would hide from his fury.

All of them feared their father, mighty Ouranos, who dealt blows to
insolent mouths and was not at all sure he should ever have fathered
this Titan brood. Gaia, their mother, had also borne six monstrous
children, creatures of ugliness and violence, and these had taxed
Ouranos's patience beyond endurance; monstrously misshapen, they were
overbearing and presumptuous as well. He thrust them into a cavern
within the earth and kept them confined there. In time he began to think
that perhaps he should deal with all his offspring in this manner.

Gaia wept for her unlucky children and grew tired of the tyranny of her
husband. She began to wish to be free of his dominance, but all the
Titans feared him. None wanted to risk his blows and imprisonment.

But Kronos, fearful as the others, thought a great deal about what she
said. He imagined himself overthrowing their father and replacing him as
foremost of the gods. Visions of all he might accomplish competed with
terrifying fears of punishment if he should fail. Gaia encouraged him,
until finally hope of success outweighed fear.

She gave him the enormous sickle toothed with jagged pieces of adamant,
and showed him where to hide. Night came, and then Ouranos. In the
darkness Kronos crept from his place of concealment, reaching out his
shameful hand and then swinging the great sickle, lopping off the first
thing that came within his grasp.

Ouranos rolled upon the ground in agony while Kronos, covered with
ichor, was horrified to discover that he had castrated his father.
Throwing the quivering flesh as far as he could, he ran to hide himself
in fear and shame. Ouranos, crippled by pain, shook off his divine form
and returned to dwell in the firmament, nevermore to come among them.

These memories seemed very distant and dreamlike now, as Kronos came to
a rock throne carved by nature in the side of one of the peaks of
Olympos. Seating himself there, he leaned forward, his head supported by
one hand, and stared out across the broad earth below.

Even in his pain Ouranos had cursed him and prophesied evil. "Child,
beware thy child. As you have overthrown your father, so shall you be
overthrown!" That act--those words-- never left him. They hung always in
the background, behind each thing he did or said. He could not escape
them. He had gone to Gaia to be reassured, but she confirmed instead of
denying: "Child, beware thy child. As you have overthrown your father,
so shall you be overthrown!"

He grew to be the largest and strongest of them, the cleverest and most
daring, and in the fullness of time he came naturally to assume the
place vacated by his father. He became the leader of the Titans, the
King of the Gods. Slowly, uncertainly, he began the eon-long process
that was to lead the gods out of the quagmire of ignorance and
bestiality into which they had been born, toward Olympos.

His monstrous brothers, of course, could not be allowed to roam freely
upon the face of the world. The havoc they wrought proved that; and
finally he defied his mother's wishes and confined them in dark
Tartaros, beneath the earth. Gaia, saddened by his action, withdrew from
the gods, abandoning her divine form and no longer walking among them.

His great project, as finally symbolized by the palace of Olympos, had
taken vast ages to accomplish--how long no one could say, for the years
had slipped by uncounted. Envious Okeanos remained in his own realm
rather than bow to Kronos's rule, but most of the great gods and many of
the lesser ones had gradually gravitated toward the palace high in the
sky. Olympos became a new sun, bathing the broad earth below in the new
ideas of culture and cooperation and enlightenment that radiated from
it. All that was good and productive he encouraged; all that was
destructive he sought to crush. Kronos had reason to be proud of his
achievements; more than anyone else, it was he who had made them gods.

Yet always the prophecy haunted him. There were methods of avoiding
offspring--irksome and unreliable--but for most of their marriage Rhea
had seemed barren, incapable of conceiving. He had almost come to
believe that he had nothing to fear as long as he was careful in his
dalliances. And then Rhea bore their first child. He had no choice but
to dispose of it.

“As you have overthrown your father, so shall you be overthrown!"

The memories depressed him. Sighing deeply, Kronos rose and returned to
the palace. Extinguishing most of the lamps, he lay down and tried to
sleep. He twisted and turned. Memories haunted him. Finally he arose,
wrapped himself again in his cloak, and went out into the hall and down
the stairs.

He came to a room on the floor below and let himself in. Rhea lay
soundly asleep, her body curled up with her knees drawn toward her bosom
as she lay on her side. He crawled into bed beside her. She sighed
softly but did not awaken as he molded his body against hers.

Somehow the familiar curves of her body soothed him, driving away
troublesome thoughts. In a few minutes he was asleep.

On all Olympos only one other god remained awake. He, too, was restless,
his mind recalling the very scenes that made sleep most elusive.

How foolish he had been, how stupid, how silly. He could almost hear the
senseless braggadocio with which he thought to impress Kronos and the
other gods over supper. Lord Okeanos was such a good friend of his. Lord
Nereus prized his counsel. He was a welcome guest in both their palaces.

It had seemed such innocent conversation. How was he to know that at
least one of his listeners would find a perverse significance in his
self-serving jabber? How was he to know that his invitation to a private
audience with the King of the Gods was not the high honor he had sought,
but a prelude to torment--and betrayal?

He could not rid his mind of the towering bulk of Kronos as the Titan
stood over him, demanding the truth, raining blows upon his cringing
body at each attempted explanation. "Okeanos is no traitor, my lord.
Nereus is loyal to you. I'm not a traitor, Lord Kronos!" But it did no
good. After a while the blows had a way of making him less certain what
the truth really was.

He had never been particularly brave, but he never thought he would
betray his friends either. He was weak, and the blows refused to cease.
Kronos put the words in his mouth; he only had to utter them. "They want
to destroy you, Lord Kronos. They plot against you. They hate you, Lord
Kronos! Yes, it's just as you say. I've heard them say that many times,
Lord Kronos. ..."

The memories shamed him and he sought to push them from his mind, to
remember instead where he was and how he had gotten in this state. But
his mind was growing sluggish again. . . . Soon he too slept.

EIGHTEEN

Lachesis awakened, neither abruptly nor by slow degrees. She had been
soundly asleep and dreaming; then her eyes opened and she sat up in bed.
Atropos, her sister, was already awake, nibbing her eyes. Klotho sat up
a few moments later. The three sisters exchanged questioning looks.

"I'll light more lamps," Atropos said.

"Yes, please," Klotho said. "Oh, I'm chilly." She pulled a heavy fur
blanket around her shoulders.

Atropos lit a taper from the agate lamp they had left burning and used
it to light other lamps around the room. Soon the flickering yellow
light illuminated much of the bedchamber. Returning to where Lachesis
sat on the edge of her bed, Atropos rubbed her arms to warm them.
Lachesis held out a blanket to her, and she quickly wrapped it around
her bare body.

"It was a very peculiar dream," Atropos said.

"Very peculiar," Lachesis agreed.

Klotho nodded in agreement as the others looked at her.

"I hadn't envisioned the little creatures very well from your
description of them," Atropos continued. "They're cute in a way. Not all
that ugly, really."

"I like them too," Klotho said, yawning.

"And they're not gods at all," Atropos said. "That was clear from the
dream."

"Perhaps not," Klotho said, "but they must be important. Don't you think
they're important?"

"I don't know," said Lachesis. "I've had the most peculiar feeling all
day, since I saw them. ..."

They lapsed into silence. Finally Klotho rose and went to look in her
mirror. She brushed her hair into place with her fingers.

"I think we'd better go now," Atropos announced.

Klotho turned away from the mirror. "Yes, I think so."

Lachesis rose from her bed and the three of them went to the small doors
that led out onto the gallery. They stepped outside, into the cool night
air, and stood side by side next to the railing.

"Are you sure we should do this?" Klotho asked, looking down at Atropos,
who was the eldest but shortest of the sisters. "I'm a little
apprehensive. ..."

Atropos held her hand and nodded. "Yes, I think so."

Now the three held hands, letting the blankets with which they had
wrapped themselves slip to the stone flagging of the gallery. They began
to transform themselves.

They came down from Mount Olympos as three crows, gliding downward
through the clouds on the cool night air. They flew first east, then
north, over towering forests and jutting mountains, over tangled glens
where wild boar grunted in their sleep and across wide plains of nodding
antelope, mammoth, and woolly rhinoceros. At last they came to a small
clearing hidden deep within a thick forest. A wooden hut waited for them
in the moonlight. Clothing themselves in gowns of dusky night, they
joined hands and hesitantly approached the aged building.

"I'm afraid it isn't Olympos," Lachesis said softly.

"No, but it's ours," Atropos answered.

The door creaked on its wooden hinges as they entered. A small lamp
burned upon a table.

"There's a hearth," Klotho said. "I'll kindle a fire."

Lachesis and Atropos stood near the center of the small room as their
sister worked; they looked slowly about the dark, shadowed interior.
There was but a single table with a few small chairs.

"We'll have to make our own beds," Lachesis said.

"There are more than enough leaves in the forest," Atropos told her.

Within a few minutes Klotho had the fire roaring, and the sisters
gathered about it to warm themselves. The bright flames revealed the
stark bareness all around them.

"Shall we start to work, cleaning and making our beds, or shall we
wait?" Klotho asked.

"I think we'd better wait."

They waited for nearly five minutes, the door of the cabin left open
wide.

Darkness came down a hillside and moved through the tall pines toward
the door of the small cabin. It came in utter silence. The darkness
crossed the short open space and entered the room. Klotho moved to close
the door behind it while Atropos, greeting their brother, pulled out a
chair from the table. The darkness pulsed, and the flickering light from
the fireplace seemed momentarily to outline first one area, then another
of a godlike form.

"You have decided," the darkness that was their brother both asked and
stated.

The three sisters, now huddled together near the hearth, nodded in
agreement.

"You have considered fully."

"Yes," Atropos said, speaking for all of them. "Yes, brother, we have
considered and decided. We are pleased that you have selected us."

"Oh, yes," Lachesis said. "We're so tired of Olympos, of not having
anything important and interesting to do." She started to laugh
nervously, but the laughter died off abruptly, sounding distant and
fragile.

The shadow moved, flowing into a corner of the room near the fireplace.
It thickened, growing jet black. When it moved away, it left behind a
golden spinning wheel.

Next the darkness drifted across the floor, occupying a portion of the
room near the far wall. Once again it grew thick and impenetrable, then
drew away to reveal an enormous loom with a golden shuttle.

Finally, from its position near the middle of the room, a dark tendril
curled forth to cover a portion of the table. It retreated to leave
behind small golden shears.

The sisters watched tensely, excited but perplexed. Their eyes moved
back and forth between these new additions to the room and the shifting,
shadowy shape of their brother.

"A new creature has come into the world," it said, "a pitiful, wretched
thing that will dream proud dreams but become the food of worms. You
three shall alot the fate of man."

The sisters listened intently, barely daring to breathe.

The darkness seemed to flow a little toward them. "Lovely Klotho," it
said, "you shall spin the thread of life, strong or weak, perfect or
faulty. As is your thread, so shall be the man. Demure Lachesis, you
shall weave upon the loom, bringing together the lives of men so that
they meet, run together for a little while, and then part. Your mistakes
shall be their misfortunes; your fortuitous errors, their fortunes. When
you miss a stitch, chance--for good or ill--shall play upon them. And
you, proud Atropos, when you clip the thread with your shears of gold, a
life will end."

Clutching each other's hands tightly, they watched the darkness.

"Are you satisfied? Will you accept this task?"

Hesitantly Klotho asked, "These creatures--man--will he be important?"

"Only as the pebble that tumbles down the side of a mountain."

"But such a pebble, in its fall," she said, "would strike other pebbles,
and could cause an avalanche. . . ."

The swirling darkness did not answer.

"It will not be pleasant work," it continued after a few moments. "Your
eyes will grow weak, your fingers will stiffen and swell. Your young
faces will become haggard from the tears that will flow down your
cheeks, and your backs will grow bent from the labor. Do you still
accept?"

They consulted only briefly, then nodded their agreement.

"Then it is time to begin."

Each of the sisters went to her place--Klotho to the wheel, Lachesis to
the loom. Atropos picked up the golden shears.

"Oh, look," Lachesis cried out. "The tapestry is already begun. There's
already the beginning of a pattern. Here's a thread that's wandered
astray from the others. I shall have to attend to him right away. And
look--one of the threads has broken!"

She looked around to find her brother, but already he had left. Silently
dark Moros, the spirit of Destiny and most dreaded of gods, returned
into the night.

NINETEEN

The dreams of Alalkomeneus vacillated between red, squirming horror and
luxurious bliss. Endless, twisting corridors tormented him with
loneliness and darkness, always leading, at last, to a precipice
overlooking the charnel room of Thanatos. The huge brass cage, glinting
in the lamplight, dominated the room, its contents of creatures like
himself visible only as dim shapes within. One by one huge bony-fingered
hands drew out squirming, shrieking men and held them down upon the
brass table. Alalkomeneus turned to run each time he saw the enormous,
gleaming blade move across one of the necks-- and found himself suddenly
in the protecting arms of the young goddess Metis.

He awakened, cold and shivering, to find himself still shrouded in utter
darkness. His body was bathed in a light film of sweat" and the
stagnant, suffocating air of the passage made it difficult to breathe.
His limbs were stiff and sore as he stood up. Probably he had not slept
long; he was very tired. Nevertheless he was possessed by an
overwhelming desire to find his way out of the darkness of the passage
and into the fragrant presence of Metis.

Feeling his way slowly along the smooth, curved walls of the corridor,
he walked slowly, haunted by the image of Thanatos and the sights he had
seen. For some distance the path led gradually downward, often
connecting with short side passages. He always followed these until they
ended inevitably in a smooth stone wall that blocked farther progress
and forced him to retrace his steps to the main corridor.

Even though he lacked any real conception of time, he knew that he had
been walking for a long while. The mazelike tunnels, with their sharp or
gradual inclines and numerous connecting passages, were something he
simply accepted; it never occurred to him that they might have been
built upon a plan and that he might figure out their design. Such a
rationalism was completely beyond his experience. Instead he followed
every possible avenue in hope that one might lead him out of the utter
darkness.

For a long time everything around him had been completely quiet, except
for the small noises he himself made. Now he became aware of distant,
unrecognizable sounds. They excited him, renewing his hope and energy,
so that he increased his pace as much as he could in the blackness. Time
and again he dipped into offshoot passages, hoping to find light and
freedom when he came to its end. Sometimes the noises became slightly
more audible, but each time he was forced to turn back when the passage
ended abruptly at another stone wall.

Finally, his feet aching, he sat down upon the floor, his mind
automatically conjuring up images of the sweet-smelling forest. He
missed Metis, but the forest had been pleasant, too, in its own way. He
remembered the feel of the soft grass under his feet, wet with morning
dew. For a little while he gave himself up to such memories, only to be
drawn out of his reverie by the distinct, if distant, voices of gods.

He sat up straight, listening intently. Yes, it was voices, and one of
the voices . . . ! He listened, all other thoughts banished from his
mind. It sounded like his goddess, like Metis! Instantly he was on his
feet, trying to follow the sound through the baffling passages, going a
little way down a short tunnel, only to turn around immediately when the
sounds decreased in volume. He began to run, trembling with
anticipation.

The voices grew nearer, until at last a passage brought him to a stone
wall behind which, he was sure, two gods were talking. He knew neither
by name, but the images of Metis and Proteus filled his mind. Pressing
his ear against the wall so hard that it began to hurt, he listened
breathlessly. A cry of joy sprang to his mouth, and he began to shriek
loudly. He yelled until his throat, already quite dry, became raw, and
he pounded his hands against the wall until they grew numb.

Metis had awakened with the dawn, not quite half an hour earlier. For
some time she leaned over the edge of her bed, looking down at her
brother, waiting for him to show signs of wakefulness. Perhaps he sensed
her eyes on him, or heard the small noises she made; his eyes soon
opened and he sat up. She immediately launched into an almost nonstop
conversation. Overjoyed at the presence of her brother, her youthful
nature refused to be suppressed by the serious concerns of his visit.

"Oh, Proteus," she continued. "It's terrible of you to go off for such
long periods of time, without seeing any of us."

Proteus smiled indulgently, and in the silence that followed-- the first
in some minutes--a peculiar, muffled noise became audible. Proteus
leaned forward, listening.

"And now, when we finally do get to see you, it's only because a friend
of our father is in danger," Metis continued.

Proteus leaned toward her, placing a hand upon her arm. "Quiet," he
whispered, still listening carefully.

Both of them rose and began to walk softly in the direction from which
the sound seemed to come. Proteus approached the wall, and with a single
swift motion lifted a huge ebony chest and swung it out into the room.
Behind it lay bare limestone. Throwing back the lid of the chest, he
searched inside, finding only carelessly folded clothing.

Now they examined the wall, for the first time noticing the hair-thin
fissure which described a nearly perfect circle upon the smooth stone
surface.

Metis traced the line with her finger. "There's some kind of opening
here, sealed up long ago. Listen--it's becoming louder, more frantic."
She leaned closer, pressing her ear against the wall. Suddenly she
jumped back, swinging around to face her brother.

"It's Alalkomeneus!" she exclaimed, her expression a mixture of
incredulity and joy. "Oh, Proteus--it's my little Alalkomeneus! I
recognize his voice!"

She had darted past him and was already returning, dagger in hand.
Kneeling, she began to pry at the fissure lines with the point. "Oh,
it's not working," she complained after two or three minutes of hectic
effort.

Proteus knelt beside her and took the knife. She relinquished her
position reluctantly.

"Do try to hurry. Listen to him--he knows we're trying to get to him. I
can tell from his voice. Be patient, Alalkomeneus. Just a little longer,
little Alalkomeneus. ..."

Patiently and methodically Proteus worked his way around the circle,
inserting the tip of the blade and prying outward, so that before long a
large stone plug edged out of the wall toward them. He continued prying
until enough of the stone had been exposed that he could grasp it with
his fingers. He gave it a sudden twist and the flat limestone plate came
free, revealing a dark, circular cavity behind it.

A shriek of joy came from within the darkness, and Alalkomeneus ran out
of the opening, leaping the short distance to the floor of the room.
Metis swooped him up into her arms and hugged him to her breast. Rising
to her feet, she began to laugh and twirl about.

"I knew you'd come back to me," she cried. She lifted him in her hands
and rained kisses upon his miniature face, nearly smothering him with
affection as she danced about the room.

Proteus brought a lamp from across the room and proceeded to examine the
aperture they had uncovered. When the light failed to reveal all he
wanted to know, he ran his arm into the opening.

"Oh, I'm so happy to see you," Metis told the man, still holding him in
her hands. "But how did you get there?" She swung around to Proteus.
"What is that opening? How could he have gotten inside?"

Having finished his examination, Proteus returned the lamp to the table
from which he had taken it and sat upon the bed. "I'm not certain, of
course. But I can make a guess."

"That's more than I can do," she said, coming toward him. Alalkomeneus,
nestled to her bosom, seemed to have found contentment. Eyes closed, he
lay perfectly limp against her.

"Do you know the history of the palace? It wasn't built by Kronos. At
least the original palace wasn't--it's been enlarged and altered since
its original construction."

"If Kronos didn't build it, then who did?"

The ocean god frowned, running the fingers of one hand through his
thick, dark hair. "A very long time ago--when Ouranos still ruled the
world--a goddess lived here upon Olympos. Her name was Eurynome, and she
built this palace for herself and her consort, the snake god Ophion. I
suppose she intended to populate the palace with her own race of gods--
her descendants--but as far as I know, she never had any. Instead she
and Ophion were the sole inhabitants of these thousand rooms. They lived
alone for what must have been vast ages, until Kronos took the palace
from them."

"How do you know this?" Metis asked.

He smiled. "I'm only telling you what I've heard. I'm not that old,
young sister. Haven't you heard this before?"

"No. I'd remember if I had."

He nodded. "Probably Kronos would just as soon have it forgotten. He
flung Eurynome from a cliff and threw her lover after her. Thus Kronos
became Lord of Olympos."

"But what does this have to do with the hole in the wall?"

"If you examine it, you'll notice that it's almost perfectly circular.
It seems to be a passage, not simply a hollow. The inside is extremely
smooth, as though the rock has been polished by eons of wear. Every
portion has been worn smooth. . . ."

She was watching his face, her own expression showing that she did not
understand what he was getting at.

"I would guess that this passage was made by the snake god Ophion as a
means of passing from room to room and level to level. Probably such
tunnels traverse the entire palace. Kronos, when he took possession,
must have had the openings sealed up."

"But how could Alalkomeneus get inside?"

He shrugged. "He must have found an opening in Crios's room, where you
left him. Once inside, it would be very easy for him to become lost."

"But he found his way here, to me," Metis said, hugging the man against
her cheek.

Proteus stared at the dark hole. "These passages could prove useful to
us. It would be worthwhile to investigate them and find out where they
lead. I doubt I'll have time, but you might do it, Metis."

"You mean we could travel through them, the way Alalkomeneus must have?
We could make ourselves small, like him. I hadn't thought of that." She
frowned. "But what if I lost control? I'd return to normal size inside
there. I'd be crushed!"

"All it takes is concentration."

"I don't know. ..." She looked down at Alalkomeneus and smiled. "The
poor thing, alone all night long, with no one to care for him. Why, he
must be starving by now. I must get him something to eat."

She set the man on the bed near Proteus and rushed from the room,
returning a few minutes later with an already mixed goblet of nectar and
a bowl of fruit and nuts. From near the wall she pulled a small table
toward the bed, set the food on it, then placed Alalkomeneus beside the
food. The man seemed to regain his energy as he drank from the goblet,
using his hands to carry the liquid to his mouth. The young goddess
began cracking the nuts and dicing the fruit. Grown in the
nectar-irrigated gardens of Olympos, they were far too large for him to
handle effectively.

After he had eaten, Alalkomeneus curled himself into a comfortable
position in Metis's lap. He snuggled contentedly against the warmth of
her divine flesh and soon would have been asleep, except that disturbing
images kept crowding his mind. Red wetness intruded upon him even here,
in the lap of the goddess. He saw again in his mind the others of his
kind, locked within the metal cage, and he saw also the frightened
goddess struggling to free herself.

The images disturbed him, so that he kept opening his eyes to make them
go away. He looked up into Metis's face, watched her mouth as it made
sounds, peered into the enormous green pools of her eyes. As she moved
her head, the thick dark ringlets of her hair danced like the branches
of a tree in a strong wind.

Slowly the images in his head began to merge, so that now the bound and
struggling goddess was Metis and he was the man in Thanatos's hand. He
blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to make the thought-picture go away.
Metis would not let that happen; she would not let Thanatos loose the
red wetness that must be inside him.

But again he saw the others of his kind, confined in the gleaming brass
cage. Why did the goddess not take them away from Thanatos? She must not
have seen them in the horrible room--if she had, then certainly she
would have brought them here, to keep them safe. All that was necessary
was for her to see them.

The wordless ideas flitted through his mind, impossible to hold and
examine; nevertheless he had arrived at an important thought. He
envisioned himself leading Metis through the rock corridors, pointing
downward into the foul-smelling room. That she was far too large to
accompany him by that route was a conclusion he did not reach. She was a
goddess. Whatever her limitations might be, he was unaware of them.

He slipped down her thigh to the bed, then down the sloping blanket to
the floor. Metis always followed him when he went somewhere by himself,
so he expected her to follow him now. He ran toward the entrance to the
passage, making loud noises to attract her attention. Before he had
traveled half the distance, the goddess picked him up and carried him
back to the bed.

Metis and Proteus were making mouth noises at each other. He waited
until she relaxed her fingers, then slipped out between them. Once again
he was nearly halfway to the opening before she caught him.

"What is he trying to do?" Metis asked. She held the man up in front of
her face. "What's wrong, my little friend? Oh, I wish you could talk to
me."

"Why shouldn't he be able to talk?" Proteus asked.

"I don't guess there's any reason. But he doesn't."

"He's capable of making sounds. The hideous noises he emits prove that.
All that's necessary is for him to form them into words."

"You're right. I must try to teach him to speak. But how should I go
about that? Or maybe he'll learn on his own, from listening to us."

"There might be a faster way."

"How? Tell me!"

"A phantom messenger, formed of cloud, can be made to speak. I've
endowed both birds and fish with speech, though they aren't smart enough
to do more than repeat what they've been commanded to say."

"Then you think . . . ? Please try. Please try, Proteus!"

The ocean god took the man from her. For a few moments he seemed very
agitated, but as Proteus stared down at him he grew calm, at last lying
passively in the god's cupped hands.

Proteus leaned over him, concentrating. The eyes of the god peered into
those of the man.

Finally Proteus leaned still closer. "You can speak now," he said.

The words seemed to shoot through Alalkomeneus like thunder claps. His
mouth gaped open. His eyes bulged and his body jerked convulsively.

Metis was beside Proteus, leaning over the man. "Can you understand,
Alalkomeneus? Speak to me, little Alalkomeneus.''

The man's eyes grew even larger. The music of Metis's voice tinkled and
danced through his brain cells. His mouth opened. "Sp-eak," he said
slowly, "sp-eak ... to ... me. . . ."

Metis threw her arms around her brother and kissed him. "You were right.
It was possible--and you did it!"

"Pos-si-ble," Alalkomeneus repeated, drawing out the word. The
magnificence of the sounds coming from his own mouth overwhelmed him.
His mind was alive with sounds.

Metis picked him up. "Talk to us, Alalkomeneus. You can talk now."

"Talk ... to ... you," he said. "I... can . . . talk . . . to ... you. .
. ." He mouthed the words as he spoke, drawing them out so that he could
feel them on his lips and tongue. He traced their course all the way
from deep within his chest and tried to follow the lightning patterns
they made as they sparked and crackled through his brain.

"Yes, Alalkomeneus," Metis continued, "you can talk now. Talk to me. Are
you all right? How did you get in that dark hole? Was it Thanatos? Did
he have something to do with it?" She held him near her face as she
spoke.

"Give him time," Proteus advised. "It'll take a few minutes for him to
accustom himself."

Images rose up in the man's mind as they spoke. Before, sounds and
images had been completely separate things; now they were linked
somehow--different aspects of the same thing. He tried to remember the
image-thoughts that had vanished with the coming of language, then
sought to interpret them into this new medium. He had to speak slowly to
answer her, searching out each word.

"Thaan-ah-tos," he began, and dark, swirling shapes sprang up within his
head at the sounds; "Thaan-ahh-tos ... his room ... his evil room where
he lets out the ... the red wetness inside, the ... the blood, the red
blood...."

Metis exchanged questioning glances with her brother. "Lets out blood?
What do you mean, Alalkomeneus? Lets out what blood? The blood of what
creature?"

"Men like me, and . . . and there is a goddess, a goddess who . . . who
can't move when she tries to move."

"What's he talking about?" Metis asked Proteus.

"It sounds as though he saw something while he was in the tunnel." He
turned toward the man. "Is that it, Alalkomeneus? Did the tunnel lead
you to this room of Thanatos's? Is that what you're trying to tell us?"

"I went through the darkness," the man said, "through the long, still
darkness of cold stone. At the end of the darkness I found the room, the
room of . . ."He hesitated, dreading to pronounce the sounds which, in
his mind, were Thanatos.

"And there is a goddess there?" Proteus asked. "In this room at the end
of the cold passage?"

"Yes, Proteus . . . Lord Proteus . . . Lord Proteus," the man said,
becoming lost in the sound of the god's name, feeling the supple,
flowing strength of the name and the god.

"A goddess who tries to move but cannot?" Proteus continued. "A goddess
who is bound? Is that what you mean?"

The man only nodded. His mind was reeling. With language had come
self-awareness and introspection. He barely heard them.

"What can he be talking about?" Metis asked.

Proteus shrugged. "I don't know. But I think we'd better try to find
out. He won't be able to lead us to the room, but with our knowledge of
the palace, and the footprints he left in the dust inside the passage,
we should be able to find it. I hate to take the time, but this is worth
following up."

"We're going to go through that little tunnel?" Metis asked
apprehensively.

"You can wait here, if you'd rather. I'll go and return as quickly as
possible."

She shook her head. "No, I'll come too. You might need my help." She
smiled. "Besides, I'm not going to miss out on an adventure like this."

Proteus was staring at the opening in the wall. "We'll need a source of
light. Is there a torch somewhere in the apartment?"

She shook her head."The nearest one is out in the corridor.''

Proteus stood up. Going to the table, he took her knife and cut two
slivers of wood from the edge. "Take these and wrap the ends in pitch
from one of the torches in the corridor."

"What are . . . ? Oh, little man-size torches for us to use." She took
the slivers and hastened to do as he had instructed. When she returned,
she handed them to him. "No one saw me."

He lit them from the night lamp, then handed them back to her. As she
watched, his form began to blur and shrink. Within moments he was only a
little larger than Alalkomeneus.

"Now hand me the torches," he told her. "It's your turn."

She frowned.

"Just concentrate."

Metis concentrated. Her body began to blur and shrink, but only for a
moment. As she let the thought slip away, she returned to her normal
size. "Wait," she pleaded. "I can do it."

She began again. This time the process continued until she was almost a
third smaller than usual. Her concentration failed as she realized that
her clothes were beginning to slip off. She caught herself before the
metamorphosis was completely undone and spent nearly half a minute
consolidating her gains.

"Oh, Proteus, just give me another minute or two," she said. "I can do
it. All I have to do is keep thinking about my size while I think about
whatever else, like talking! You didn't warn me my clothes would fall
off...."

He smiled. "This isn't a time for modesty, sister. Finish becoming
small, then wrap yourself in illusion--like all females."

The process continued in spurts and relapses, until at last she stood
beside him. "Oh, look the other way," she begged. "Give me a chance to
get accustomed to this before worrying about decency!"

She had set Alalkomeneus on the floor near Proteus before beginning her
own transformation. His mind was too overwhelmed with the words inside
it to pay careful attention to what was happening. His lips moved in a
continual mumble, repeating endlessly the words that happened into his
head.

Two or three minutes passed. Finally Metis said, "I think I've just
about got it. If you promise not to stare at me, I think I'll go like
this. I don't have any extra concentration left, to make phantom
clothing."

Proteus handed her one of the torches, then led the way into the opening
in the wall. Metis directed Alalkomeneus in after him, then brought up
the rear herself. The man turned to look at her, his face beaming with
admiration, gratitude, and love. He was aware of her metamorphosis, but
paid little attention to it. A single thought possessed him: She and
Proteus had given him language. They had made him like a god.

TWENTY

Proteus held the torch high above his head as he led the way down the
short side passage and into the main corridor. Alalkomeneus followed a
little behind him, carrying on a continuous monologue while Metis
hastened him along.

They came to a halt just inside the main corridor. "I don't like this
place," Metis said, shivering. "I wouldn't be surprised if we ran
head-on into Ophion, the snake god."

"He came from this direction," Proteus said, pointing along the floor at
the footprints Alalkomeneus had left in the thick dust. "The passage
slopes upward too. That's a good sign." He began walking, and Metis
followed, all her mental energy concentrated upon maintaining her tiny
size.

"Ophion the snake god," Alalkomeneus was mumbling.

The passage led gradually upward, until it reached a place where it
forked. It soon became apparent that the footprints would not prove a
reliable guide; in the darkness the man had doubled and redoubled back
upon himself. Both paths led upward. They followed one a short way, only
to retrace their path when the footprints of Alalkomeneus turned back on
themselves.

Most of an hour was consumed in their slow progress, until a spot of
light became visible ahead. Alalkomeneus became excited and refused to
continue walking.

"The room of blood," he said, his voice quaking.

Metis took his hand. "Don't be afraid, my brave little friend. I'm here
with you. I won't let Thanatos hurt you."

"He won't hurt me," he said. "Metis won't let him hurt me."

"No, I won't," she said, "but you must be quiet. We don't want Thanatos
to hear us. You mustn't talk out loud."

They moved forward, coming at last to the opening through which light
entered the tunnel. The frightened man continued to hang back as the two
gods stood at the edge of the precipice overlooking the dim chamber. A
single small lamp had been left burning, its feeble rays illuminating
only a small portion of the room.

Metis looked at her brother. A peculiar expression flickered over his
features. "Is something wrong?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No. I suppose not. I just had the sudden impression
that I have looked upon this awful place before." He shook his head
again. "The smell is dreadful. Can you see the men or the goddess that
Alalkomeneus mentioned?"

She peered downward again. "I think there's something over there, among
the shadows. It could be the goddess. How do we get down from here?"

"That'll be easy enough. But why is this entrance to Ophion's tunnel
open? Thanatos must have removed the plug that sealed it."

"So he knows about the little corridors," she said.

He nodded. "As far as I can tell, there's only one door to the room, and
it's closed. Thanatos may very well be in the next room, so we'll have
to be careful not to make any noise. Probably we'd better leave
Alalkomeneus here. We'll have to leave the torches too. Let him hold
them till we come back. Perhaps you'd better explain to him how to do it
without burning himself."

As she attended to those details he turned and dived out into the room,
transmuting himself in midair into a bird. As he landed upon the floor
he reassumed his natural form, then lifted down Metis. Once safely upon
the floor, she, too, reassumed her normal size.

The shape that had been only dimly visible before began to stir. Proteus
approached it, smothering an exclamation of surprise as he recognized
the naiad Nalassa. Despite the gag in her mouth, she tried to cry out.
With a gesture he warned her to silence.

"Bring the lamp," Proteus whispered to Metis.

The young goddess hastened to do as he asked. She set it on the floor
beside him, then searched for another to light for her own use. She
found it in a wall niche.

"Try to find the men," he told her.

Most of the men were still inside the brass cage atop a large table. At
the additional light in the room and the stealthy movements of the gods,
some of them had awakened and begun to stir. As she approached them the
light from her lamp fell upon a neighboring table. She froze, staring
down at the decapitated corpse of one of the men.

She gasped, unable to turn her eyes from the hideous parody of life. The
head lay nearby, eyes staring and mouth drawn into a mirthless grin.
Dark dried blood stained the table. She set down the lamp to keep
herself from dropping it.

Proteus had freed Nalassa's hands, and now she removed the gag from her
mouth. "Oh, Lord Proteus," she whispered. "How can I thank you? How did
you know I was here?"

"Quiet. You aren't out of danger yet." He finished loosing the bonds
from her ankles. As he stood up she threw herself into his arms.

"Proteus," Metis called in a whisper. "Brother, please come see."

Disentangling himself from the naiad's embrace, the ocean god went to
Metis's side. She pointed to the corpse on the table.

He frowned. "I'm afraid your little friends are mortal after all," he
said softly. "Have you found the others?"

She nodded, gesturing to the brass cage.

"Good. Leave them till we've examined the rest of this room. Take your
lamp and go that way. I'll go this way. Nalassa, stay here until we
finish."

Metis took her lamp and began walking between the tables, the fetid
smell making her gag for breath. Toward the rear of the room she came
upon the corpse of the nymph. She fought back the nausea that threatened
to make her faint, and forced herself to carefully examine the body. She
prodded it to make sure it was dead, and noticed the glazed, staring
eyes. The long cut on one forearm attracted her attention--it seemed to
be the only wound on the dried and wrinkled body--and she leaned closer
to look at the pink-tinted ichor that had welled into the slash.

Proteus hissed to attract her attention. "I've found something," he
whispered.

"So have I."

She crossed the room to join him where he stood next to the headless
body of a god. She was trembling, and Proteus put his arm around her.

"This is horrible beyond words," she said. "I found a dead nymph over
there."

"Dead? Are you sure? This god still lives, even without his head."

"Yes, I'm certain. I think you should look at it."

A thrashing sound drew her attention as they crossed the room. Proteus
moved directly toward the rear of the chamber, slipping his arm around
her again as they neared the wall. He thrust the light forward,
revealing the head of a god, hanging from a peg by its hair. From the
healed-over neck depended a miniature body, its arms and legs flailing
in every direction.

"By Earth and starry Heaven!" Proteus exclaimed, taking a full step back
from the apparition. "It is the god whose body lies upon the table. ..."

The mouth of Oizys formed silent words while the body floundered
impotently.

"Who is it?" Metis asked.

"I don't know. Whoever he is, he's an ample demonstration of what
Thanatos--and therefore Kronos--is capable of." Proteus looked quickly
around the dim room. "Quick. Show me the nymph. We must not be found
here."

He examined the dead nymph carefully, then shook his head. "Let's go.
We'll talk back in your room."

"What about the god--the head of the god?" Metis asked. "We can't just
leave him here, for Thanatos. ..."

Proteus frowned. "No, I suppose not." He returned to the wall and lifted
down the head, holding it by the long hair. The thing's thin lips
continued to flap noiselessly, the little body to wriggle.

"But how are we going to get it back?" Metis asked, suddenly becoming
aware of the potential difficulty. "Can it still change sizes? I don't
think the head can fit in the tunnel, and even if it could, we'd have to
drag it along."

Nalassa had edged her way across the room, closer to them. "Change
sizes?" she asked, coming directly toward them now. "What does she mean,
my lord?"

"We came here through a small tunnel that runs through the walls of the
palace," Proteus explained. "In order to return, we will have to make
ourselves as small as the creatures in the cage."

"I can't change size, my lord," Nalassa said quickly. "I am only a
lesser goddess--a naiad, a river nymph."

"Are you sure you can't," Metis asked. "I didn't think I could either,
until--"

Nalassa shook her head again. "No, my lady. It's a power I don't
possess."

"Then we'll alter our plans," Proteus said. He paused to think, then
continued, "Metis, you and Alalkomeneus and the other men will go back
through Ophion's tunnel. If I can get this god without a body to change
his size, you can carry him with you. Otherwise Nalassa and I will take
him. We'll make our way out as best we can."

"But there's a good chance Thanatos will see you," Metis objected. “I
think that door must lead to Thanatos's apartment.''

"We'll manage. If necessary I'll find a means of distracting him while
Nalassa sneaks out."

"But brother--"

"Be quiet now. I can do whatever has to be done. Right now I want to get
you and your friends to safety." He lifted the head of the god and held
it so that he could peer into the creature's pain-dulled eyes. "If you
can understand me," he told it, "and if you're still capable of
metamorphosis, we need you to make yourself very small. We're here to
help you, but we need you to do this so we can take you away from here."

The three of them waited, watching the head. Its mouth flapped and its
body writhed, but it did not change size.

"Well, that's our answer," Proteus said after nearly a minute. He walked
toward the front of the room. "Metis, you and I will deposit the men in
the tunnel. Instruct Alalkomeneus to keep them together and away from
the ledge. You and he will have quite a job herding them back to your
room. Here, Nalassa, hold our unfortunate friend."

The naiad grimaced as he held the god out to her, but she forced herself
to grasp the long hair. Proteus and Metis began transporting the mortals
from the cage to the mouth of the tunnel. When the cage was empty, Metis
made herself small again and Proteus lifted her up to join them.

"Take care, little sister," he told her. "We'll meet in your room."

Nalassa was still holding the head of Oizys at arm's length. He took it
from her and turned his attention to the door. The locking mechanism
that had proven so difficult to Prometheus the night before presented no
problem whatsoever from the inside. Proteus slipped the bolt back and
the door started to swing inward. He pushed it closed and held it as he
transformed himself into a perfect replica of Kronos, King of the Gods.

Nalassa's eyes widened. "My lord, you look--"

"This should make things simpler if we are seen," he said. "Kronos has
come to take you away."

She smiled broadly. "You are clever."

He let the door swing in, revealing a bedchamber. Upon the bed was
stretched, still dressed in a dark chiton and without sheet or blanket,
a limp, angular form that seemed to be composed primarily of arms and
legs.

Leaving Nalassa in the doorway, he crept across the room toward a
window. His phantom clothing had been abandoned long ago, in another
metamorphosis. He drew up cloud and formed it around himself, so that
now he was dressed as Kronos had been. Returning to the naiad, he took
her by the elbow and led her across the room. He carried Oizys against
his side, away from the sleeping god. They had almost reached the middle
of the room when Thanatos began to stir.

Proteus pushed Nalassa gently forward, toward the next room. Thanatos
twisted first to the right, then to the left, and finally turned on his
side, facing away from them.

Crossing the remainder of the room, Proteus rejoined the water nymph.
Together they made their way toward the outer corridor.

TWENTY-ONE

As they neared the chambers of Iapetos and his family, Proteus pressed
Nalassa into the darkness of an alcove and once again forced the head of
Oizys into her unwilling hand. Holding it by its dirty, matted hair, she
looked up to find that it was no longer the King of the Gods who stood
before her; instead she beheld the bent, paunchy form of Momos.

Small, plump hands settled upon her shoulders, gently pressing her back
farther into the shadows. "Wait until I signal you," the god said.

As she watched he continued down the hall toward the entrance to the
apartment, the regal, confident movements of the Titan king replaced by
the tottering gait and absentminded demeanor of the divinity he now
impersonated. His head was bent forward and he mumbled to himself.

He entered the apartment and moved slowly across the main room. Staring
at the floor and mumbling softly, he seemed completely preoccupied. The
atrium was deserted, and he walked in the direction of Metis's room.
Just as he was about to turn down the narrow corridor, he came face to
face with Philyra.

Rubbing her sleepy eyes, she almost collided with him before becoming
aware of his presence. She stepped back with a start. "Who-- Oh, it's .
. ."

The false Momos stepped close to her. A plump hand closed over her mouth
with startling suddenness and an arm encircled her waist. Before she
fully comprehended what was happening and began to struggle, she found
herself being carried back down the hall.

"Quiet," the god admonished her, carrying her through a doorway and into
Metis's room. He set her down and immediately resumed his own form.

"Proteus!" she gasped. "What's going on? You terrified me!"

With a quick glance around the room he assured himself that Metis had
not yet returned. He turned back to face Philyra. "Who's already awake?"
he asked.

She stared at him, trying to understand the question. "You mean in the
whole apartment? Metis isn't here, as you can see--"

"I mean Iapetos and Klymene, and their children."

"Iapetos has gone to hunt. I heard him leaving some time ago. Klymene is
probably dressing. I don't know about the others."

He led her back toward the door. "I have someone outside, in the
corridor, that I want to bring here without anyone seeing her. I want
you to stand watch and signal if anyone starts to come toward the
atrium."

"I'll try," she said. "But what's going on? Where have you been? Where's
Metis?"

"I'll tell you later. There's no time now." As he spoke he reassumed the
form of Momos and pushed her ahead of him out into the short hall,
following as soon as she signaled that no one was in sight.

Proteus returned to the front door while she took up a position from
which she could observe the bedchambers of her sister and nephews.
Opening the door, Proteus gestured to Nalassa, who ran toward him. He
directed her across the atrium and down the short inner corridor, so
that within moments the three of them stood in Metis's room, the door
closed behind them.

Metis had still not returned. Proteus settled into a chair.

"What happened to you, you poor thing?" Philyra asked the naiad, who was
trying to cover herself with the remnants of her tunic. "How did you
get--" Philyra stopped mid-sentence, for the first time noticing the
head of Oizys hanging by its hair from Nalassa's right hand. She
recoiled in horror from the thing.

"I'd introduce our fourth member," Proteus said, "but I don't know his
name . . . and he's in no condition to teli us."

Philyra had turned away and closed her eyes. After a few moments she
said, "I know him. That is Oizys, one of the sons of Nyx. What has
happened to him?"

"Of Nyx," Proteus said slowly. "Then he is the brother of Thanatos."

Philyra nodded. "Won't you please tell me what this is all about? Who is
this nymph? What has happened to Oizys?"

Proteus told his sister of the return of Alalkomeneus and the expedition
through the tunnel of Ophion to the secret room of Thanatos.

"But shouldn't Metis be back by now?" she asked when he had finished.
"Perhaps you should go after her, to be sure nothing has happened."

"She's probably safer than we are. If she hasn't returned in a little
while, I'll go look for her. In the meantime why don't you see to
Nalassa. She's probably very hungry."

Philyra turned to the naiad. "Oh, yes, I'm so sorry. Are you hungry?
What would you like?"

"I'm afraid I can't even think about food right now," Nalassa said
softly. "If I could clean up ... if you could find something for me to
wear ..."

"Of course, I should have thought of that immediately. I'll see to it
that you have a bath. Come with me."

"Not that way," Proteus said. "No one must know she's here."

Philyra considered for a moment, then said, "We can go along the
gallery."

Nalassa held out Oizys to Proteus, then followed Philyra. They had to
step over the innumerable boxes and vases of Metis's herb garden. As
they left, Proteus pulled a cushioned chair up close to the one in which
he sat and tried to position Oizys in it. He had to arrange cushions
around the head to keep it from rolling over.

Settling back in his own chair, he stared thoughtfully at the bleary
eyes and soundless mouth of his companion. "The brother of Thanatos," he
said softly, as much to himself as to Oizys. "You should be able to tell
a pretty story some day."

The head's dull eyes gave no indication of the thoughts that might be
passing through Oizys's brain.

Proteus put his feet on a foot stool and leaned back in his chair. "I'm
afraid my conversation won't be very interesting just now," he
continued. "I have much to occupy my mind. Your brother will soon
discover that he is missing several important things."

Meanwhile Nalassa and Philyra made their way along the exterior gallery,
stopping to cautiously peer in open doors and windows before continuing
past them. They walked only a short distance before coming to a large
open hearth built upon the stone floor of the gallery. A doorway led
into the medium-size room that served as the bath chamber of Klymene and
her sisters.

The room was sparsely but luxuriously decorated. A life-size lion's
head, made of gold, protruded from one of the walls. A fountain, fed by
a crystal-clear spring at the very peak of Mount Olympos, issued from
its roaring mouth and fell into a large sunken basin of marble. The
continually circulating water was drained off through a number of small
openings just below the upper lip of the basin, or could be rerouted
through a spigot into a nearby marble tub.

Philyra kindled a fire on the gallery hearth and set water to heat, then
returned to the room and opened a spigot to let cold water into the tub.
It took a number of minutes for the water to heat sufficiently, but at
last the bath was ready and Philyra helped steady Nalassa as she stepped
down into it.

Philyra sat on the stone steps beside the tub, talking as she scrubbed
the naiad's back. The conversation began with Nalassa's ordeal of the
night before, but inevitably led to Proteus. Philyra learned with
interest that this was the nymph who had been with him during his
prophetic seizure. The exact details of their relationship interested
her, but her sense of propriety kept her from inquiring too closely.

"I owe him very much," Nalassa said. "I'm very grateful to him."

Something in her voice made Philyra scrutinize her face. Sensing that
she had more than a casual interest in her brother, Philyra determined
to caution her tactfully.

"My brother is very special," she began off-handedly. "I love him very
much, of course--we all do--but it isn't easy to understand him. He is
the eldest child of my father, and I am one of the youngest, so I
suppose our ages have something to do with it. He's seen and experienced
so much in his life, more than you or I can possibly imagine. Sometimes
when I look at him, all I can do is wonder what strange thoughts he must
think--how silly my own concerns must appear to him."

Nalassa hung on each word the Okeanid spoke; at the same time she strove
to conceal her intense interest. "He does seem distant, much of the
time."

Philyra laughed softly. "Indeed he does. I think that his ability to
look into the future must contribute to it. It's not a light burden to
bear."

"But he doesn't really see into the future. He told me that he never
remembers after ..."

Philyra looked upward toward the high ceiling, closing her eyes as she
sought out a memory. "I've heard it said that he was not always so--that
long ago, long before I was born, he was as lighthearted as anyone. In
those days he lived with my parents in their palace at the edge of the
world, surrounded by his brothers and sisters. They say that in those
days he was the most clear-sighted of prophets, that he never spoke in
riddles and always spoke truly. It was only much later, when his visions
came to him only in those terrible seizures of his, that he drew away
from his family and began to roam the lonely ocean."

The Okeanid smiled, shaking off the gloomy thought. "I've always thought
that he should marry, that perhaps that would cure him of whatever it is
that makes him love solitude so much. But I doubt that will ever
happen."

Nalassa trembled to know why, but dared not ask.

"Oh, he's had many an opportunity," Philyra continued lightly. "He has
an eye for beauty, and the number of nymphs and goddesses who have
caught his eye must be innumerable--but none has ever kept his interest.
Many have fallen in love with him, only to be burned by their own
passions."

"Has he never loved, then?" the naiad managed to ask.

"I don't know. Perhaps, perhaps not. It wouldn't matter in the end. The
ocean depths would call him back. He wouldn't purposely hurt her, you
understand. Probably he wouldn't even realize he was hurting her."

Philyra stared at Nalassa. The grime had been washed away, revealing her
lovely complexion. She was very beautiful, the Okeanid realized; and
probably already half in love with Proteus.

"It's just not in his nature to love, I guess," she concluded, a note of
sadness in her voice.

She helped Nalassa out of the tub, dried her, and brought her a loose
robe. She started to lead her back out to the gallery, but changed her
mind.

"This is silly. Wait here." She disappeared through another door,
returning a few moments later. "There's no one about. Come this way."

By a circuitous route she led her to her own room, which, though small,
was neat and tastefully decorated. Selecting a delicately woven pink
fabric, she brought it to the naiad.

"I think this will do just fine," she said, beginning to help her adjust
the peplos into the most fashionable folds. "There. Now sit here and
I'll do your hair."

Before doing as she was directed, Nalassa paused to admire herself in
the full-length mirror that stood against one wall. "The splendor of
Olympos is almost overwhelming," she said as she turned from side to
side. "I've never seen such a wonderful mirror. To be able to see
yourself all at one time is itself a joy, but the workmanship is--"

They were startled as the door to the room opened. It was Metis.
"Proteus sent me to hurry you along," the child said.

One of the brooches that fastened Nalassa's peplos had come loose and
she was trying to refasten it. "Oh, I've stuck myself," she cried,
holding up her wounded finger. Ichor oozed from a small gouge. Metis
came close to her and leaned down to examine the wound.

Philyra handed the naiad a small white kerchief to wrap about her
finger. "We're almost done. I only have to arrange her hair," Philyra
told her sister. "Sit down, Nalassa, and I'll soon have you coiffured
for the occasion."

Philyra stood behind her, and Metis to one side. After a minute or two
Metis said, "It's odd you can't change shapes. Why is that?"

"I don't know," Nalassa answered easily. "None of my sisters can. Most
naiads can't."

"Does it affect you in other ways?" the child continued, trying to make
the question seem like idle curiosity. "If you hurt yourself--if a rock
crushed your foot, for instance-- would your foot just grow back as it
had been?"

"I've never been so unfortunate as to have such a serious accident, but
I'm certain it would."

"All done," Philyra announced. "Come look at yourself in the mirror.''

The naiad laid aside her kerchief as she rose to follow Philyra. Metis
picked it up and examined it hurriedly. A light pink stain discolored
the material.

"I look lovely!" Nalassa exclaimed as she stared at her reflection.

The child glanced across the room at Nalassa, then back at the kerchief.
Pulling a fibula free from her chiton, she deliberately punctured her
own finger with its sharp point and squeezed out a single drop of clear,
honey-thick fluid. A shiver ran through her. Her own ichor was
completely transparent, without a hint of color; that of the dead nymph
in the laboratory of Thanatos had been pink--like Nalassa's, though
darker in shade.

"You certainly are lovely," Philyra was saying. "But we'd better hasten
back to my brother now. Come on, Metis." She left them momentarily to be
certain no one would see them if they took the route she intended, then
led them back to Metis's room.

The child goddess followed slowly, sunk in thought. That tinge of
color--so suggestive of the red blood of mortal animals--was it an
indication of mortality?

"You took long enough," Proteus said gruffly as they entered.

"Perhaps so," Philyra answered, "but don't you think it was worth it?
Look at Nalassa."

He barely glanced in the naiad's direction. "Please come here. Things
have become even more pressing than before."

As Philyra approached she became aware of the nearly two dozen men who
crowded around the entrance to the small hole in the wall. Alalkomeneus
stood just outside the opening, directing them as they came out of the
tunnel to procure nuts or slices of fruit, then returned to the tunnel
to eat.

"Has everyone else left the apartment?" Proteus asked.

"They seem to have all gone down to breakfast."

"Good. We have to decide some things very quickly; if we don't, events
will decide for us."

"What about her?" Metis asked, gesturing toward Nalassa.

"She knows I'm here, and has as much to lose as we do.

She might as well know everything." He turned toward the naiad. "No one
outside this room knows of my presence on Olympos, and it is very
important that no one else learn of it. Lord Kronos is plotting to
depose both our father, Lord Okeanos, and Lord Nereus, the husband of
our sister, Queen Doris. The situation is very grave. Our little
expedition this morning has complicated matters greatly, and we have to
try to find some way to salvage the situation."

"Brother," Philyra interrupted, "Lord Kronos is expecting me for
breakfast. I dare not keep him waiting."

"Can you stay a few minutes longer? I'll try to make this as brief as I
can."

She shrugged. "No time was specified, but breakfast must have begun by
now."

"Thanatos is a minion of Kronos," Proteus continued. "We know that. The
things we found in his locked room would not be tolerated were they not
there by Kronos's expressed consent. A dead nymph, a decapitated god, a
kidnapped nymph--Kronos would not want the other gods to know about
them. Now the secret is no longer a secret. The nymph has been rescued,
the head of Oizys has been carried away.

"When Thanatos awakens, if he hasn't awakened already, he will inform
Kronos. Kronos will feel threatened and do everything within his power
to prevent his secret from being revealed. Nalassa will be hunted. The
little godlike mortals disappeared from the room, too, and that
implicates Metis, who is known to have an interest in them. This room
will be the first searched. Metis will be closely questioned."

"Then she and Nalassa will have to leave Olympos," Philyra said.

"If they have to leave, then you do too," Proteus said. "And it wouldn't
end there. Klymene and her children would be in danger, too, because
Kronos will presume that Metis shares her secrets with those close to
her. It may come to that; if so, then so be it. But it would be better
to try first to smooth things over if we can. Remember, you and Metis
and Klymene are all daughters of Okeanos; if you leave Olympos
now--carrying Kronos's secrets with you back to our father-- you could
make it impossible for Kronos to abandon his plot. He might very well
feel compelled to act, even before the wedding of Eurybie and Crios."

"What do you suggest, then?" Philyra asked.

"Nalassa might have escaped by herself. Her bonds were tight and well
tied, but Thanatos can't be certain she couldn't free herself."

"But what about the men?" Metis asked. "She couldn't have carried all of
them away by herself. And there's Oizys . . ."

"The cage door was left open. The doors to Thanatos's bedroom and from
the apartment to the outer corridor were left slightly ajar. I saw to
that, to distract Thanatos from Ophion's tunnel."

"Then you want Thanatos to think I freed myself," Nalassa said, "that I
opened the cage for the mortals and let them escape the apartment?"

Proteus nodded. "And that you carried away the head of Oizys. You're a
compassionate female who would never leave them to the tortures Thanatos
obviously intended. It stretches credulity more than a bit that the
mortals could have disappeared without a trace, but it's far more likely
that you escaped alone than that someone crept past Thanatos while he
slept and managed to open the lock on that door from the outside."

"I still don't see what you're getting at," Philyra said.

"It's this. Kronos doesn't really care about Nalassa or Metis or the
mortals. His interest is in keeping secret the work of Thanatos. It
would greatly embarrass him if the other gods, particularly the Titans,
were to learn of it. It might hamper his plot against our father--though
we can't trust in that outcome, unfortunately. The existence of that
room must be kept a secret, and that is Kronos's main concern. If he
thinks his secret safe, then we're safe."

"But how can we make him think that?" Nalassa asked.

"You can do it, with your words and actions. You have only two
choices--to flee, or stay here openly. If you hide here, you'll be
found. You can't conceal yourself in a different form, as Metis or
Philyra might do temporarily. If you flee, Kronos will search across the
face of the earth for you. But if you stay here openly--in plain sight
of the other gods--and make it clear that Kronos has nothing to fear
from you, he may leave you in peace."

Nalassa considered for a few moments. "That does make sense, in a way.
Still--"

"I'm afraid it's our only chance. Metis can only avoid suspicion if you
are here to convince Kronos that you acted alone."

"I've caused so much trouble," the naiad said. "I'm very sorry. Of
course I'll do anything I can to help."

"Can you do it convincingly?" Proteus demanded.

"I--I think so. Yes, I will!"

"Good. Then what I want you to do now is go eat breakfast. Philyra can
lead you, but you must be careful that the two of you aren't seen
together. At breakfast, while all the other gods are nearby, let Kronos
and Thanatos see you. Act as though you arrived on Olympos during the
night, didn't want to wake anyone, found an empty room to sleep in.
Whatever you do, don't let Kronos or Thanatos get you out of sight of
the other gods. As long as you're in public, you should be safe.
Everything you say and do should carry the unspoken message that as long
as Kronos leaves you alone you will remain silent. Do you think you can
do that?"

Nalassa nodded.

"I don't like it," Philyra said. "I don't think it will work."

"Have you a better idea, sister?"

"But what if it doesn't work? All the gods knew Aigaion was here, and
that didn't stop Kronos from making a prisoner of him. She can't avoid
being alone at some point if she stays."

Proteus was silent for a moment. Then he said, "I won't let anything
happen to her. If it comes to that, I'll rescue her again and take her
away from Olympos--even if it means revealing my presence here and
abandoning my mission."

Philyra considered his statement, then said, "I guess it's worth a try."
She did not sound enthusiastic.

"Good. You're already late for your breakfast engagement. Take Nalassa
with you, to show her the way. But remember, don't let anyone see you
together. Metis and I still have a lot to discuss. We have to find
someplace to safely hide Oizys and the mortals."

Metis waited until her sister and the naiad had left the room, then
said, "Brother, you haven't been candid with them."

Proteus's eyebrows rose. "Really, Metis?"

She nodded, looking very serious. "You don't really think Kronos will
let her stay here on Olympos unmolested. You and I have both seen that
room."

"It is a gamble."

“It's a desperate gamble to buy time," Metis continued. "When she falls
into Kronos's hands--unless she's an excellent liar--he will force the
whole story out of her. And then Kronos will know you are here, and you
will have failed."

"We have no good options in this situation. Perhaps she will manage to
keep him at bay long enough for me to find Aigaion, or maybe she'll turn
out to be a great little liar. I really don't see anything else we can
do."

TWENTY-TWO

Most of the ground floor of the palace was given over to the great hall
of Olympos, in which were held the council meetings of the gods and over
which presided the massive ivory throne of Kronos. Opposite the throne,
at the other end of the hall, enormous golden doors opened onto a wide
portico. Beyond the portico began a series of terraces, the nearest of
which had been turned into a broad, grassy patio.

It was here, beneath the golden sun or silver moon, that the gods
partook of their formal meals, surrounded by blooming flowers and
festooning garden shrubs. Farther away and continuing to the very edge
of the precipitous cliffs that ringed the mountaintop, began the
orchards of Olympos, where the gods grew fruit and nuts of divine
proportions. Springs of red nectar bubbled up from deep within the
mountain to irrigate the god-size trees and bushes.

Near the portico but off to one side, partially encircled by a bower of
myrtle, the Lord of the Titans sat in a high-backed armchair, a golden,
three-legged tabte-sWithin easy reach of his right hand. Queen Rhea sat
beside him in a smaller chair. She had barely touched her food and
spoken no more than a half-dozen words. Occasionally she glanced at her
husband, but he seemed to have no need of conversation. One hand resting
on his goblet, he surveyed his subjects.

The patio was now a hubbub of divine noise and motion. All across it
other high-backed chairs and three-legged tables had been pulled
together in larger or smaller circles. Lesser gods and goddesses brought
baskets of freshly collected fruit and nuts from the orchard, or carried
huge jars of nectar balanced on their shoulders as they returned from
one of the springs. Immortal children scurried about, serving as
cupbearers or attendants.

As Kronos watched, his brother Hyperion returned from his morning hunt,
gliding down out of the sky. He folded his magnificent wings and
reabsorbed them into his body as he strode forward, his shoulder-length
blond hair swaying with each step and his long, slender spear swinging
lightly in his hand. Walking directly toward the open hearth near the
middle of the patio, he slung from his shoulder and handed to Koios--who
was presiding as roastmaster--a slender rope from which dangled more
than a dozen red deer.

Eurybie was wending her way among the tables, tossing flippant greetings
to those she passed. She caught Kronos's eyes and began to make her way
toward him.

"Good morning, my lord," she said as she reached the bower. "Good
morning, Lady Rhea. I see I'm not late, after all." She nodded toward
the barely touched platters beside each of them.

Kronos frowned ever so slightly. Rhea smiled stiffly.

"May I join you?" Eurybie asked, looking about for an attendant before
either could answer. She spotted a young god and signaled him to bring
table and chair.

Rhea began to stir. "Tell him not to bother," she said, rising. "I'm not
hungry. You may have my place."

Kronos did not even look up at his wife.

"What a shame," Eurybie said, examining Rhea's plate more carefully.
"The food looks wonderful this morning. Or perhaps I'm just very
hungry."

Eurybie waited until Rhea entered the portico, then slipped into the
vacated chair. She signaled an attendant.

"Good morning, Lady Eurybie," the boy said. "What may I bring you?"

"Take these away first," she said, motioning disdainfully toward the
food and drink Rhea had left. "What meats are we having? I just saw
Hyperion bring red deer."

"Yes, my lady, but it'll be a short while before any is ready. We still
have a little of the aurochs Iapetos killed. Everyone says it's very
good. There's some chamois, too, if it's not all gone."

She stroked his cheek affectionately. "Do your best for me, my young
fellow; a little of this and a little of that."

As the first boy left, a second arrived, placing a fresh goblet beside
her and filling it from a flagon. Eurybie took a long, slow drink, then
turned her attention back to Kronos.

"I must say," she told him, "you don't look very well this morning."

He glared at her. "I don't feel all that well. I didn't sleep half the
night."

"I always sleep well. Very soundly. Nothing ever troubles me."

"Sometimes, Eurybie, I think you have no insides at all-- that you're
nothing but a hollow shell."

She laughed softly. "If you're determined to offend me, at least wait
until I've finished my meal."

She looked up to find the Muse Thalia setting a basket of fruit and nuts
on the table beside her. "Thank you, dear, By the way, is it true the
Hesperides are going to sing this morning--have I missed it? Isn't that
rather risky, with all the empty stomachs?"

Thalia grinned back maliciously. "Singing is what they say they're going
to do!" she said as she turned away to continue on to another table.

Before Eurybie could begin on the basket, the boy returned with a
heaping platter for her. She thanked him with a wide smile and began to
eat heartily. After a few minutes she looked over at Kronos, who was
still staring out over the assemblage of gods. "You're ignoring
delicious food," she said, still chewing. "Good food is more important
than any of them."

"I'm responsible for all of this," Kronos said softly, still not looking
at her.

"What did you say?"

His cold gray eyes turned slowly to appraise her. "I said that I am
responsible for what you see here. For the very food in your mouth. Had
I not done the things I have done, you would be breakfasting on raw fish
and seaweed."

Eurybie swallowed, then laughed. "You certainly did sleep poorly!"

His eyes turned back toward the other gods. "I brought all of this to
the gods--by the strength of my arms and the swiftness of my brain."

Eurybie started to giggle. She followed his gaze. Gold and silver
glittered all across the patio in the brilliant, pure rays of the
morning sun.

"None of this would exist without me. Everything you see on Olympos is
the result of my work--the child of my mind if not of my arm. I've given
it all to them--and yet they oppose me. . . . Must it always come back
to brute force? I should have their loyalty, their gratitude. I led them
to this life of ease and plenty. ..."

His tone had become musing, and Eurybie began to eat again. "Those
things don't really exist," she said after a minute or two.”Loyalty and
gratitude are just ideas in your head, that you haven't been able to
make real yet."

He shrugged. "Perhaps so."

"What you really want," she said, "is for them to love you."

He faced her. "Why shouldn't they love me? Haven't I done everything for
them?"

"That will only get you envy and hate." She cracked a large nut and
began to pick out its meat with her fingers. For some time she had been
searching for a way to distract Kronos from his increasingly irksome
topic of conversation. Now she saw Nalassa standing on the steps leading
down from the portico to the patio.

"Who's that?" she asked.

Kronos shrugged.

"I've never seen her before," Eurybie continued. "She looks a bit lost,
don't you think? Shall I invite her over? She might be the breath of
fresh air you need."

Kronos was looking at the nymph now, becoming increasingly aware of her
physical charm. Still he hesitated. "I'm waiting for someone to join
me."

"What does that matter? Who is it, male or female?"

"Philyra, the Okeanid."

Eurybie smiled, remembering his remarks of the night before. "Oh, yes,
the one you were so anxious to learn about. Still, two young nymphs are
better than one. I'll snare this one for you."

Before he could object, she had left her place and gone to the naiad.
Philyra had sent Nalassa on ahead of her, and Nalassa was still standing
on the steps, trying to find a friendly face before venturing farther.
She smiled as Eurybie approached her.

"Are you looking for someone to breakfast with?" Eurybie asked.

"Well . . . well, yes, in a way. I'm afraid I don't--"

"Look no further. Come right this way." Eurybie took her by the arm.

Nalassa smiled back, but no sooner had they taken a few short steps than
she found herself looking into the face of the King of the Gods. Her
heart sank. Eurybie's invitation could have only a single
interpretation. Kronos knew her as the nymph who had escaped from
Thanatos--who knew the secret of Thanatos's room. She fought to conceal
her inner turmoil.

Attendants brought table and chair, while others scampered off to
procure food and drink for the newest arrival. Within moments Nalassa
found herself settled between Kronos and Eurybie.

"It's always good to see a new face on Olympos," Eurybie said.
"Especially a face as lovely as yours. She is lovely, is she not, Lord
Kronos?"

"Indeed she is lov-- There she is!" Kronos said as he spotted Philyra
coming down the steps from the portico. "Pardon me." He had already
risen and now edged his way around the two goddesses to go to meet
Philyra. Taking her by the hand, he brought her back toward the bower.
Once again attendants were called, so that soon Philyra took her place
as near,as possible to Kronos on one side, while Nalassa and Eurybie sat
on the other.

"I'm afraid I overslept," Philyra said. "I hope I haven't kept you
waiting." She looked around the table and caught Nalassa's eyes, without
being able to gain any clue to the situation.

The food began to arrive and Kronos to engage her in trivial
conversation, leaning toward her, his hand settling on her with
unnerving frequency. Meanwhile Eurybie kept Nalassa talking. Philyra
found herself trying to listen to them while listening to Kronos and
fending off his advances.

"I arrived in the middle of the night, with no one to greet me," Nalassa
was saying.

Nalassa's eyes flashed to Kronos's face to see if he was listening. His
face betrayed no hint of interest.

The meal continued, neither the Okeanid nor the naiad really tasting her
food. Philyra found herself incapable of following both conversations,
nodding her head and making affable, agreeing noises to whatever it was
that Kronos was telling her.

"Good," he said, "you'll find it well worth the visit. There is not
another like it in the world."

Philyra looked up, startled. "I'm sorry. What did you say?"

He smiled. "Just that you won't be sorry you accepted my invitation."

"Invitation?"

"Look," Eurybie said, interrupting. "The Hesperides are going to sing."

Four beautiful maidens had walked to an open spot on the grass. The
various attendants stood in clusters to watch and listen.

"They're really quite good," Eurybie continued to Nalassa, "but they
have to compete with the Muses and... well, no one can compete with
them. They know that, of course, and . . . there's no love lost between
the two families, I can tell you." Eurybie laughed gaily.

"What invitation?" Philyra whispered as the goddesses began to sing. "My
mind must have wandered while you were talking."

"I want to show you my garden. You've agreed to come."

"Isn't this your garden?"

He shook his head. "I mean my private garden, atop the palace. Not
everyone gets to see it."

"But my lord--"

"Shh!" Eurybie admonished them.

Philyra fell into silence as the Hesperides began to perform. The four
sisters sang a lilting ballad, accompanying it with a pantomime dance
that managed to maintain beauty and dignity while illustrating the song.
The entire assemblage listened in silence until the last note and
movement had been completed, then applauded and cheered loudly.

"Well!" Eurybie exclaimed. "They've certainly improved. Did you really
kill such a monster?" she asked Kronos, who had been the subject of the
composition.

He hesitated, then said, "I make it a point never to cast doubt on a
lady's veracity."

Thalia, the Muse, was going back to work, but Eurybie waved her over to
their table. "We were very unkind to them," she said as the maiden drew
near. "If they keep practicing, you'll have some very strong
competition."

Thalia drew herself up to her full height, momentarily losing her normal
good humor. "As long as it's taken for them to become this good, we
won't have to worry for quite some time." She turned and walked quickly
away.

Philyra returned to the interrupted matter of Kronos's invitation. "I'm
sorry, my lord, but I seemed to have agreed to something without
realizing I was doing so. When would you like me to visit your garden?"

"After breakfast. In a few minutes."

She shook her head. "Oh, I'm sorry, but I really can't. I told my sister
Klymene that I would work with her this morning. She has a great deal of
fabric that must be dyed and--"

"I'm sure she can make do without you for an hour or two," he answered
firmly. "We'll leave as soon as you finish eating." He laid his hand
upon her thigh.

Philyra cast a hopeless look at Nalassa.

"Lord Kronos is going to show you his private garden?" she asked
ingenuously. "I do hope I may be privileged to see it while here on
Olympos." She had momentarily forgotten Proteus's admonition to stay in
sight of the other gods.

Kronos started to answer, but Eurybie spoke before him. "I'll see to it
that you do. But I was thinking that after we finish eating I ought to
give you a tour of the palace myself. The garden, at least in a sense,
is the most impressive of all the sights here. Lord Kronos has been kind
enough to take me there many times, and I never tire of it." She shot a
look laden with amused irony at him. "But to see it first would spoil
all the other sights. Let Philyra go with Kronos now, while I serve as
your guide to the rest of Olympos."

"But it would be nice to make a party of it," Philyra said, "the four of
us--"

She stopped mid-sentence. Thanatos was approaching them, rubbing sleep
from his eyes and brushing back his hair. He came up to the group and
bowed his head toward the King of the Gods.

"Good morning, Lord Kronos. Lady Eurybie, Lady--" He froze as his eyes
fell upon Nalassa. His brow knit in a deep frown. His eyes darted
upward, toward his suite of rooms on the topmost floor, then back to the
naiad.

"Yes, yes, good morning, if you insist," Kronos said crossly. "If you
have anything else to say, then by all means say it and get it done.
Otherwise go away."

Thanatos began to stammer. "L-l-lord Kr-Kronos--" His eyes now darted
back and forth between his king and Nalassa.

Kronos passed a hand across his face, gently nibbing his eyes. "I'm
losing what little patience I have for you. Say what you want!"

Thanatos stopped trying to talk. He turned and stared directly into
Nalassa's face, scrutinizing every detail of it. Then he turned back to
Kronos. "Pa-pa-pardon me, I-I-I've just remembered..." He backed rapidly
away, turned, and ran up the steps and across the portico toward the
inner stairway.

Kronos shook his head slowly. "Shall we go now?" he asked Philyra as he
rose and extended a hand toward her. He bowed toward the other
goddesses, then slipping an arm about Philyra's waist, led her toward
the palace.

They had only taken a few steps when Kronos glimpsed Crios sitting by
himself off to one side. He excused himself momentarily and went to him.

"Brother," he told the Titan, "I've decided that you and Koios and I
have been taking life too easy. The three of us shall hunt the evening
meal. Tell Iapetos and Hyperion not to bother today, and Koios that you
and he are to meet me here this afternoon. Dress for the trail and bring
your weapons."

Kronos rejoined Philyra and led her inside. Behind him an ashen-faced
Crios watched him leave. Slowly he lowered himself back into his seat.
He was no longer hungry, and the food already eaten turned heavy inside
him.

What was Kronos planning? he wondered.

TWENTY-THREE

As Lady Rhea, Queen of the Gods, left her husband on the patio terrace
of Olympos and climbed the stairs toward the portico that led into the
palace, she became aware of the dull weariness that had descended upon
her. Her overwhelming passions of the night before had consumed
themselves through their own intensity, leaving her incapable of pain or
grief. Even Eurybie's studied callousness could not find a single ember
that could be stirred into renewed life. Her emotional exhaustion had
now been translated into physical fatigue.

Barely thinking, letting her feet find the way, she entered the great
hall and headed toward the far side, where a doorway would lead to one
of the many staircases within the palace. She was neatly and tastefully
dressed in an almost unadorned peplos, a light veil covering her head.
Her eyes took in the familiar surroundings of the huge room without
really seeing them; the gold and silver and precious jewels that gleamed
and sparkled from every direction seemed as distant and as dimly
perceived as stars viewed through the haze of a foggy night.

Now she became aware that her feet had stopped walking and that, for
some moments at least, she had been standing directly in front of the
enormous throne, staring sightlessly up at the imposing mass of carved
ivory upon its plinth of gold. Shaped in interlocking segments, the
tusks of ten thousand mammoths came together so perfectly that not a
single seam could be discerned. Like an ivory mountain the throne loomed
over everything.

She stared up at it, as though seeing it for the first time. A trickle
of memory brought long-forgotten images of herself and her lord. She saw
him as he had looked during their courtship, when his entire being
seemed wrapped in grandeur and marvel, when the promise of the future
gleamed from his deep eyes and smiling lips. She remembered their
wedding, when he stood beside her before their brothers and sisters. All
around them the valley lay carpeted in thickly strewn flowers. She
remembered, too, the bed of pansies to which her new husband had carried
her.

Her hands clenched as she remembered another scene, more recent. She had
come to him at night, blushing despite their long years of marriage, her
lips unable to conceal the pride and self-satisfaction she felt. Looking
into his eyes, she sought a reflection of her own proud jubilance as she
told him that she was with child, with his child.

Instead she met a face that grew pale and stony, eyes that grew fierce
in outrage. For centuries she had thought herself barren, had yearned to
give him a son. Her smile froze on her lips, unable to keep pace with
her emotions.

She turned suddenly away from the throne now.

Sobbing, Rhea rushed from the great hall, pulling her veil across her
face to shield it from view. She climbed the stairs so rapidly that more
than once she had to cling to the railing when her foot slipped. Her
suppressed emotions rushed up within her at each step. Other scenes,
scenes she had not allowed herself to remember, flooded her mind.

Her chambers occupied the entire floor of the palace directly below that
of her husband. In order to reach it she had to climb eight flights of
steep stairs. Normally she would have gone slowly, possibly stopping
briefly on one of the landings. Today she rushed all the way without
even a momentary pause, so that when she reached her room, she was
completely out of breath and her sobs came in broken wheezes.

She threw open the door to the room that, for practical purposes, served
as her sole dwelling. AH of the other rooms on the floor remained empty,
or nearly so. She had no need of them. Immaculately neat and sparsely
furnished, the small chamber-- little bigger than a cell--was more than
adequate for her needs. She had long since tired of the wealthy splendor
Kronos had once showered upon her.

Running across the room, she threw herself down on her bed. Weeping
uncontrollably, her body thrashed back and forth and her small fists
pounded against the thin mattress.

In time her body refused to cry any longer. She sat up, wiping her eyes.
Grief and hatred possessed her alternately. The bareness of her room
seemed to symbolize the barrenness of her life. Lady Rhea, Queen of the
Gods--she had nothing, nothing that mattered to her.

After a while she rose and began to pace the room, her hands twisting
together. Had he always been that way? Had she only been blind to it in
the beginning? Or had that awful throne--all that the throne stood
for--coaxed and corrupted him?

She came to an abrupt halt. And what of her, who had allowed him to
impose his awful will upon her, who had allowed him to make her his
partner, his conspirator in this hideous crime? Why had she not
rebelled, no matter the penalty, no matter the hopelessness of her
position? Why had she not fled to the farthest reaches of the earth? Had
she not been seduced, corrupted by that same throne, by all it
symbolized in wealth and power and prestige to the goddess who shared it
with him?

She felt a movement within her body and her hands moved to gently clutch
her abdomen. Her child--her child within her, moving! So tiny in
comparison to her fully grown body, so tiny and helpless. . . . She
could feel it moving, moving vigorously now, and that meant that the day
of its birth was fast approaching. It would be sooner than she had
guessed, perhaps very soon. And then she would have to bring it to her
lord, hand it to Kronos. What would he do with it? What thing too
horrible for him to admit would happen to this child, as it had to her
others?

"My child, my child!" she cried, her voice raw and shrill. "What must I
do to save you? By the Earth and starry Heaven, what must I do?"

He was invulnerable; there was absolutely nothing she could do against
him. Even revealing his crime to the other gods would probably have no
effect--except to earn her perpetual banishment in the never-ending
darkness of Tartaros.

They would sympathize, they would be horrified; but they would do
nothing to oppose him. She could flee, but eventually he would find her
and the child.

Holding her abdomen and gently rocking herself from side to side, she
began to sing a lullaby to her unborn infant.

She had now wandered toward the one window of the room. It looked down
over the broad terraces below, and she had a clear view of the patio.
Kronos was still there, accompanied by three goddesses rather than the
one she had left him with. Curious, she drew closer to the window,
watching for some time as her husband betrayed his interest in one of
the goddesses through the innumerable little mannerisms she knew so
well.

Who was the goddess he found so interesting today? Rhea had seen her
before, but could not remember her name. Now Kronos was rising, helping
her to her feet. They were leaving together.

She drew away from the window. Where would he take her? she wondered. To
the garden atop the palace, probably; he often took his new conquests
there.

She realized, with surprise, that she felt no jealousy. Last night, when
she had interrupted him with Eurybie, she could not have said that. But
now she felt nothing.

Can you be jealous without being in love? she wondered. Perhaps the last
shards of her love had finally died. She tried to decide exactly what
she did feel, if not jealousy.

Her hands were trembling. While her heart--her mother's heart--was being
torn apart, he could think of nothing but trivialities, and that was
exactly what the young goddess was. A triviality without any
significance beyond the next hour, a new toy for the husband responsible
for all her anguish.

She screamed, a long, piercing wail, and turned to pound her fists
against the limestone wall. Why should he have his trivial little
pleasure while she had nothing? She was his wife, his queen! Spinning
around, she walked determinedly toward the door, intent upon accosting
him and the young goddess.

Almost immediately, though, her steps halted. Very slowly she turned and
walked back toward the window. Again she stared downward, not toward the
patio but across the broad world below Olympos.

She would gain nothing by creating a scene with her husband. Only one
thing mattered now--the child within her. A sudden resolve took hold of
her. Stepping back from the window, she loosed her peplos and let it
slip to the floor. Transforming herself into a dove, she flitted out the
window, across the many terraces, and then downward from the mountain.

Timbered hills and jagged peaks swept by beneath her as she flew
directly south, traveling far faster than any true bird. Small white
wings concealing Titanic power beat incessantly, sending her darting
across the sky.

At last the twin peaks of Mount Parnassos rose ahead of her. Beyond it
the sunlight glinted from the Corinthian Gulf, and still farther away,
from the turquoise waters of the Mediterranean. Alighting on a steep
slope, she reassumed her natural form and quickly caused phantom
garments made of mist to clothe her body.

All around her was solitude and almost absolute silence, as though
nature held itself in abeyance, listening. A pleasant moistness clung to
the air, and as she started to descend, the soft sounds of her feet
echoed back from the rocks. Many narrow gorges cut the face of the
mountain; mist eddied within them like ghostly rivers.

As she reached the cliff she sought, a figure stirred nearby, rising
from the rock shadows and coming toward her. It was the nymph Daphnis,
who spent her life in pleasant solitude attending the sacred place the
gods called the center of the world. She came forward, smiling as she
recognized the Titaness.

"Lady Rhea," she said, bowing her head slightly. "It is very good to see
you again, after so long. How may I serve you?"

Drawing a phantom veil across her face, Rhea replied, "I wish to speak
with my mother."

"Shall I withdraw, that you may be alone?"

Rhea nodded, and the nymph turned and walked some distance down the
mountainside. They had awakened a lone bird somewhere below; it began to
sing, its voice ringing out in the stillness.

The Titaness approached the gaping cleft that in later years would be
the focus of the shrine of Delphi. At the very edge of the crevice she
dropped to her knees and bent forward, pounding her hands against the
ground.

"Mother! Mother, help me!" she cried.

Again and again she pounded her hands against the ground, calling up
Gaia, the earth, mother of all. She began to weep again, so that her
eyes started to sting.

"Help me, Gaia. Mother! Mother! What shall I do?"

A mist began to rise from the cleft, at first tenuous, but growing
thicker. Rhea drew herself up, her senses reeling.

"Must this be? Tell me, Gaia--oh, please tell me--is there nothing I can
do to save my baby--my unborn baby, who has done no crime but to be
sired by a hateful father?"

A shape took form in the mist. Troubled, tender eyes looked down upon
the Queen of the Gods. Soft, maternal lips smiled reassuringly.

"Tell me--tell me what I must do, Mother," Rhea cried, reaching out
toward the image. Tears flowed down her cheeks.

Now there were tears in the eyes of the image too. A hand reached toward
Rhea, settled softly on her forehead. The Titaness sank forward on the
ground, unconscious at the touch.

As unconsciousness claimed her, Rhea found peace. A soothing voice
seemed to be whispering in her ear. Before her eyes came visions of
startling clarity. A vast panorama swept before her, rushing by like the
waters of a swift-moving stream. For more than an hour she lay
unconscious at the edge of the gaping chasm, and during that time the
future of the world was revealed to her.

When finally she came to her senses again, she arose a new person. All
her fears and anguish were gone. Her entire appearance radiated
serenity. Straightening her hair and clothing, she moved away from the
opening.

Daphnis had been watching from a distance and now came toward her. "May
I assist you now, my lady? I hope you have learned all you desired to
learn."

"Yes, I have." Rhea's smile proclaimed the inner peace that had come
upon her. She turned to leave, but before she had taken a half-dozen
steps, the sound of footsteps drew both her attention and Daphnis's to
the approach of a third party.

Themis, Rhea's Titaness sister, was walking slowly up the slope toward
them. As she saw Rhea her eyes darted about in embarrassed confusion.

"Good morning, sister," Rhea said as she drew near. "I see that more
than one of us is troubled this morning."

Themis, who had once been the wife of Iapetos, averted her eyes.

Rhea touched her arm gently. "May our mother help you, as she has helped
me."

Turning, the Queen of the Gods began to walk back up the mountain,
leaving her sister in the privacy she obviously desired.

TWENTY-FOUR

A separate staircase, accessible only from within the personal chambers
of Kronos, led to the rooftop garden above the palace of Olympos.
Something very close to panic swept through Philyra as Kronos led her up
this final flight of stairs.

Since yesterday morning, when the Lord of the Titans seemed to notice
her for the first time, she had spent much of her time fretting over the
coming breakfast engagement. His reputation had left little doubt
concerning the motive behind his sudden interest. She had feared just
such a development as this, that he would maneuver her to a .secluded
rendezvous and force her to openly rebuke his advances.

She dreaded the coming confrontation. In the three months she had lived
on Olympos, she had come to sense the atmosphere of tension that
surrounded the king. She feared him for his physical strength and power,
and for the eccentric swings of temper that were only alluded to in the
most veiled ways. That he might try to take her by force was very
unlikely. The true danger lay in offending him and thereby inciting his
enmity against her and her sisters. She realized this more than ever
now, after all that Proteus had told her.

The staircase ended in a little, roofed enclosure. From there Kronos led
her out into the garden.

"These are the true riches of the world," he said, waving his arm toward
the wonderland of color and fragrance that suddenly surrounded them.
"They have been brought from the farthest corners of the earth."

Philyra came to an abrupt halt, staring at the beauty that sprouted and
blossomed on every side. Despite her high pitch of nervous anxiety, she
recognized the truly stunning splendor that had been achieved here; at
the same time she saw an excuse to avoid close contact with her escort.

She ran forward, gasping in amazement at the enormous plants. Lilies and
lilacs, towering ferns, gardenias and geraniums, roses of every
variety--carefully cultivated and irrigated with nectar, they grew to a
size and resplendence never seen below Olympos. The combined smell
seemed almost intoxicating in its headiness.

"Come this way," he told her, taking her trembling hand. She followed
him down a narrow, twisting path, pausing every few steps as he pointed
out each new growth they passed. Each time they stopped, she pulled her
hand free from his, but he always reclaimed it to lead her along.

"I come here to think," he said. "The quiet and solitude, surrounded by
all this beauty, relaxes me."

"I don't know how it would be possible to think here," she said. "The
eyes and nose are too dazzled."

He studied her delicate beauty, trying to determine if her admission
that her senses were overwhelmed was also intended to carry the message
that she could not be held too strictly accountable for what her body
might do in such a keyed-up, overwrought state.

Long dark hair tumbled in ringlets about her shoulders and down her
back. Her emerald eyes, so striking in contrast to her hair, sparkled as
she examined each new sight. Her fine, straight nose crinkled
appealingly at each fresh smell. Each seemingly thoughtless, natural
movement of her slender body sent out waves of attraction, so that he
felt as though he were being pulled toward her. He*brought his hand to
rest in the hollow of her back as he guided her along, felt her tremble
beneath his touch.

Her shyness had dropped away, replaced by girlish delight. Was she
really so entranced by the lush spectacle of the garden, he wondered; or
was this but the first of a series of steps that would allow her by
degrees to become more and more approachable? Had she continued her
overly demure demeanor even when they were alone, he might have
interpreted it as genuine disinterest. The garden, he realized, had
provided just the excuse she needed to abruptly drop her proper feminine
reserve.

She leaned toward a pink and purple blossom and darted a quick glance at
him as she inhaled its perfume--was the glance to gauge his reaction to
her display of feminine charm?

He studied her every expression, toying to read her innermost thoughts.
There were still traces of diffidence--her eyes never met his for more
than a moment--but most nymphs and goddesses wore that guise, though few
if any were unwilling to shed it at an opportune time. He had long since
learned to discount such appearances. They all seemed to delight in
displaying their innocence, however little might remain. That Philyra
might actually be the fresh, untouched thing she proclaimed was a
prospect barely worthy of consideration, however pleasant a novelty it
might be. The odds were decidedly against it, innocence being a negative
quality--the absence of experience. Given enough time, life inevitably
wore it away.

"Are you glad you came?" he asked.

"Oh, yes. It's more lovely than I could possibly imagine. Lady Rhea must
be very happy here. Does she come here often?"

"Not often. She has many interests. This garden, beautiful as it is,
isn't one of them."

Kronos interpreted the question as two-pronged. The Okeanid had neatly
determined that they were unlikely to be interrupted. At the same time
she opened negotiations, with a high asking price, by reminding him of
his wife.

To him all life was a series of bartering: One traded what he had for
what he wanted. Just now he wanted Philyra, quite strongly too; he
needed to discover what she would require in return. He and the other
male gods sought good looks above almost everything else; the females,
while not adverse to that commodity, more often fell victim to subtler,
less comprehensible appeals. They traded for security or prestige,
wealth or power.

He let his hand slip around her back to gently stroke the firm flesh of
her upper hip. She turned away from him to examine another flower, so
that his hand slipped from her. He recognized the movement immediately
as a coy female maneuver. If it had been translated into words, it might
have said, "Not now--not yet... We don't know each other well enough,
yet...."Or, less tactfully, "We still haven't come to terms.." Its true
purpose and effect were to tantalize him, allowing him but the slightest
taste of the banquet her body promised.

Now he led her down an adjoining path till they came to an open area. A
wide pond rimmed by polished stones was fed by an artificial waterfall.
There were benches nearby, and he brought her toward them.

"You're trembling," he said as he took her hand again, holding it in
both of his. Her bosom was rising and falling rapidly, in obvious
agitation. Had the combination of the garden and his attention already
brought about this extreme agitation? She was obviously controlling her
emotions only with great difficulty.

"You're very quiet," he said.

"I'm sorry, my lord. The wonders here are beyond words. I was just
thinking that in nature you seldom see so much beauty side by side.
There is always ugliness mixed in."

He sat down beside her, and she edged away a little. She was very aware
of how nervous she was. Light sweat had begun to form in the palms of
her hands. Despite all her efforts to avoid close contact with him, to
keep their attention centered on the garden, he kept finding ways to get
near her. Every time he had taken her hand or slipped his arm about her,
she had found some plausible reason to reach out or twist out of his
reach, politely but firmly indicating that she was not interested. He
should have been able to tell as much from the apprehensive glances she
found herself giving him every few seconds.

Normally the most guileless of creatures, she found herself mentally
cursing him. He was the King of the Gods. How dare he misuse his power
and position like this, pressuring her into a romantic situation she
obviously wished to avoid? Oh, he was attractive enough, in an objective
sense--and obviously knew it. But she was frightened of him, and now
that she knew what he planned to do to her father, she felt only
loathing toward him. Did he think she would submit to him simply because
he was her king? Each time he touched her, something akin to terror
shrieked through her.

To make matters worse, she had to try to conceal the true repugnance she
felt, lest she offend him. Her heart was pounding fiercely, her face
felt hot and flushed, and it took a conscious effort to keep her
breathing from becoming panicky. His arm came around her again, pressing
her toward his chest.

A fish leaped in the pond.

"Oh," she exclaimed, jumping up and rushing forward a few steps. "I
didn't realize there were fish here!"

He followed her. "Yes, a number of interesting varieties. Come a little
closer so you can see those below the surface."

For some moments she peered downward, seeming deeply interested. Finally
she looked up. Kronos had been awaiting that moment. Stepping closer,
his arms encircled her slender waist and his lips descended on hers.
Startled, her head drew away, but he had only to lean a little farther
toward her to bring their lips in contact.

He could feel the wild pounding of her heart, and she was almost burning
hot to his touch. Her passions seemed to be aroused to the bursting
point. His lips pressed hungrily against hers, but now her tiny hands
were on his chest, pushing him away.

She stepped back as he released her. A hand moved to cover her face, and
her bosom was heaving. Was she really so overcome with emotion that she
could barely control herself? he wondered. He was already coming to the
conclusion that she was highly passionate, but she was reacting very
strongly to what, after all, was only a kiss.

Tossing her hair back and laughing self-consciously, she started down
another path. "Where does this one lead?" she asked.

"Follow it and see."

He walked behind her, giving her time to recover her composure. After
some time he asked, "What do you want, Philyra? Of all the things in the
world, what would you most like to have?"

She considered for some moments, not looking at him. Finally she said,
"Happiness, I suppose. For myself and my family." She turned away again,
realizing belatedly that it was not wise to refer to her father in any
way. Kronos seemed not to notice the possible significance of her words.

"We all want our loved ones to be happy, but what about you? Isn't there
something you especially desire? Jewelry? Finery? Did you like the
mirror I sent you?"

A resolve was growing within her. She would have to face him and let him
know how she felt. The best she could hope was to do it as painlessly as
possible for both of them. "It was beautiful," she said, seeing in this
new topic a way of approaching the subject; "far more beautiful and
ornate than need be, Lord Kronos. My sister Klymene, who is the wife of
your brother Iapetos, has nothing so fine."

"Does it give you pleasure?"

"Yes, my lord, but . . ."

Her hands were clenched together in front of her. The tension was
becoming intolerable. Even at risk of offending him, she had to set
matters straight before they went any further.

"But . . .?" he asked, smiling at her.

"But I think I shall return it to you."

"Why would you do that?"

She forced herself to look directly into his eyes. "Let me answer with a
question. Why did you send it to me?"

"Why? So that you can look at yourself in it and discover just how
beautiful you are! That's a lesson every goddess needs to learn."

"It seems to me," she said slowly, "that a gift such as that must have
other reasons as well, that something might be expected in return. If
that were the case, I could not accept it, for the value is more than I
am able or willing to reciprocate."

"On the contrary, the mirror is valueless in itself, only a cold slab of
polished metal. If it seems rich and beautiful, that's because of the
richness and beauty it reflects."

"You expect nothing in return?" she asked, forcing herself to continue
despite his evasion.

He shook his head. "I gave it to you because I wished you to have it. I
wanted to see you smile. That's ample repayment for me. Will you smile
for me?"

She did not know whether to be relieved or flabbergasted. Had he
understood what she was trying to say? He touched her chin gently,
lifting it so that she faced him directly.

"Good," he said. "Now I've had all the payment I desire. Shall we
continue walking?"

"I really think I should be going soon. Klymene will be wondering where
I am. Thank you so much for letting me see this marvelous place."

He nodded in consent. "This path leads back to the stairs."

They walked in silence, reaching the small enclosure and descending to
his apartments below. Kronos escorted her to the corridor.

"I shall be looking forward to seeing you again. Now that you've seen
the garden above, perhaps you'll wish to visit it again."

"It's indeed very compelling. Good-bye, Lord Kronos," she said, letting
him squeeze her hands gently in his before turning to make her way down
the corridor toward the stairs.

As she walked, her heart began to lift. She had avoided disaster. He
must have understood and taken her at her word. She sighed inwardly. It
had really been very easy. All she had to do was tell him clearly that
she was not interested in his romantic advances.

Behind her Kronos watched as she walked away, his eyes following each
movement of her slender, girlish form. He had understood her very well.
She was not to be acquired with anything as insignificant as a mirror.
She was fully aware of her charms and intent upon obtaining the very
best price they could command. Her almost convincing innocence, her
trembling, suppressed passion--these were the opening rounds of the
bargaining. She had his interest and had refused his first bid as too
low. Now he would have to raise his offer.

From down the corridor in the opposite direction Thanatos was coming
toward him. He had waited until Philyra disappeared down the stairs
before approaching. Now he ran forward.

"Lord Kronos, I must talk to you. Something very important has
happened."

Kronos turned toward him with a frown, his mood shattered by the
intrusion.

TWENTY-FIVE

Thanatos had awakened late that morning, still tired and very hungry
from his excursion of the night before. With great reluctance, he
decided to eat breakfast immediately rather than interrupt his work
later in the day. His inventive mind had already formulated a large
number of experiments to be conducted upon his new subjects, and he was
anxious to begin.

What he discovered on the terrace outside the palace, however, banished
from his mind all thought of food and sent him racing back up the stairs
to confirm or deny the evidence of his eyes. Calmly seated beside the
King of the Gods, to all appearances a convivial member of the king's
party, was the nymph he had kidnapped the previous night.

By the time he regained his apartment, he had nearly convinced himself
that he must be mistaken. The nymph he had abducted and the one he had
just seen breakfasting with Kronos could not be the same. His heart
skipped a beat as he reached the door to the laboratory--it was not only
unlocked, but had been left slightly ajar. He pushed it open and rushed
into the room, eyes blinking in the dim light. Hens began to flutter
about their cages. Pigs squealed.

The nymph was gone. The long strips of cloth that had bound her lay upon
the floor. He moved slowly toward them, disbelieving. How could she have
escaped? The bonds had been tight, the knots well tied. He had been
sleeping in the very next room. Could she have unlocked the door and
crossed his bedroom without awakening him?

He looked aimlessly about the room, his eyes settling now on the open
lid of the cage in which the mortals had been confined. With a cry he
leaped toward it. The cage was empty.

Stunned, he backed toward the door and out into his bedroom. He
collapsed in a chair, unable to comprehend what had happened. He was not
angry. He desired no revenge. All he could think of was how near he had
been to discovering something of real importance--and what a setback to
his work this loss represented.

Gradually his overwhelming disappointment gave way to a fuller
realization of his situation. Did Kronos know who the nymph was--that
she had been brought to Olympos by force and had seen the room in which
he conducted his experiments? This morning she was well dressed and
fully groomed, though the night before she had been dirty and clothed in
rags. Who had befriended her? And why was the Okeanid Philyra--sister of
that troublesome Metis--also at breakfast with Kronos? Did she or the
child goddess play some role in the mystery?

His mind was too dazed to sort out all the elements of the puzzle. He
had to talk with Kronos.

As he neared the chambers of his king, sounds from the stairwell
informed him that someone was approaching. A soft female voice kept him
from rushing forward. Reluctantly he stepped into the shadows and
watched as Kronos and Philyra came into sight. Thanatos gnawed his lower
lip in frustration. He dared not accost his master now, with an
assignation in progress. He would have to wait still longer.

More than an hour passed, each minute increasing Thanatos's nervous
anxiety. He knew Kronos would be angry with him for not somehow
preventing the nymph's escape--but how could he have prevented it? The
degree of his anger would depend on how much damage had been done, on
whether or not the nymph had told anyone what had happened to her and
what she had seen.

Kronos's insistence on secrecy was not only irksome, but
incomprehensible. Why should the King of the Gods care what the others
thought? For that matter, why should anyone disapprove? The work was
messy and noisome, he realized--but he did it, not they. All he was
doing was seeking answers, answers to very interesting and important
questions. A single nymph seemed very insignificant when weighed against
such knowledge.

Finally a door opened and Kronos stood in the doorway, saying good-bye
to the Okeanid. Thanatos waited until the goddess reached the stairs,
then rushed toward his master.

A frown formed on the king's lips as he recognized him. Sighing in
exasperation, Kronos said, "God of carrion, why do you dog my path?
Haven't I made it clear that I wish to see you as seldom as possible?"

Thanatos came to an abrupt halt, drawing himself up and consciously
slowing the flood of words about to pour from his mouth. "Has she told
anyone?" he asked, his voice shrill with excitement despite his efforts.
"What have you done with her?"

Kronos stared at him blankly, not understanding.

"How did she escape? Has she told anyone what happened?"

Kronos's expression moved from perplexity toward indignation. "What
business is it of yours?" he asked, concluding that Thanatos was talking
about Philyra. "How does she concern you?''

It was Thanatos's turn to be puzzled. "Don't you know? Didn't she tell
you? She didn't tell you about me?"

"About you!" Kronos's eyes narrowed as he tried to untangle what the
other god was saying. In his own mind Philyra was associated with but a
single idea--romance. It was almost unthinkable that Thanatos, this
despicable creature, could have romantic feelings of any kind, yet
Kronos could find no other interpretation for the things he was saying.

"Yes, about me," Thanatos continued. "I brought her to my room last
ni--"

"You what?"

"I can't understand it," Thanatos went on, shaking his head and exuding
relief. "I thought she would run screaming to the first person she met."

Kronos's mouth had become a grim, straight line. He glared at him. "Stop
babbling! Tell me what you're talking about, and tell me plainly. What
did you do to her?" He was quivering with suppressed rage.

"She escaped from my room last night. I was sure she'd tell you about
it. But who gave her fresh clothes--was it you, or someone else?"

Kronos exploded, surging toward him and bellowing an awful oath. "What
did you do to her? Tell me or I'll tear the truth from your wretched
mouth!"

Thanatos stumbled backward to escape the powerful hands of his master.
"I did her no harm, my lord! You told me I could have a nymph for my
work, so I brought her to--"

"A nymph--for your work!" Kronos's eyes had grown very wide. "I said a
nymph--one of the countless solitary creatures of the wilds--not a
goddess! She's a full-blooded Titan, the daughter of a Titan father and
Titan mother. How dare you lay your unclean hands upon her!"

"A Titan?" Thanatos said, bewildered. "No, you are mistaken, my lord.
She is only a nymph. I brought her from the hills below Olympos."

"You brought Philyra from the earth below? Are you mad? She's been here
for months."

"Philyra? I'm not talking about Philyra--I'm talking about the nymph at
your table this morning, who had breakfast with you and Philyra and
Eurybie."

"This morning...? You must mean Nalassa. She's a naiad. She said she
arrived here last night, by herself."

"She did. I found her while searching for the creatures discovered by
the Muses. I captured her and carried her back, bound and gagged, to my
laboratory."

"Your laboratory! She's been inside that room? But she said nothing
about it, not even a hint. She gave no indication that anything unusual
had happened to her.''

"The men are gone too--the little godlike creatures. I captured many of
them, perhaps all, though I couldn't be certain in the dark. They also
are gone."

"The men and the nymph were locked in that room?"

Thanatos nodded. "She was bound securely, and the mortals--they are
mortal; I found that out before I went to bed--"

"Was the door locked?"

"I think so. I always lock it."

"You aren't certain?"

"I'm almost certain."

Kronos frowned deeply. "The nymph was tied up and the men were...?"

"Inside a large cage, with the lid latched shut. It was open in the
morning. The door to the room was unlocked and not completely closed."

"But why should she pretend nothing happened?" Kronos asked, almost to
himself.

Thanatos shrugged.

"Why would she pretend, unless she had some reason to?"

"What reason could she have?"

"Only one," Kronos said. "To protect herself. And that means she had to
know that what she had seen and what had happened to her were not safe
to talk about."

"How could she have known that?"

"That I would very much like to know. You said she had changed clothes?"

Thanatos nodded. "She had been dressed in a dirty, torn tunic. You saw
her this morning."

"I think she said something about changing clothes to Eurybie."

"I must get the mortals back," Thanatos said. "I can always get another
nymph, but I may not be able to replace them. They're very important to
my work--creatures so like us, but not deathless. They will provide
insights impossible to attain otherwise."

Kronos was not listening. He was mulling over the facts concerning
Nalassa's escape. Even if she had not confided in anyone yet--and that
seemed unlikely--she would talk eventually. She had to be silenced, and
along with her anyone else who knew of the work going on in Thanatos's
laboratory.

A massive hand shot out and closed around Thanatos's throat. Fingers
tightened. Gasping for breath, Thanatos felt himself being lifted
upward. His eyes began to bulge from their sockets as the grip on his
throat grew still tighter.

Kronos held him so that their faces were close together. The eyes of the
Lord of the Titans showed only coldness--no anger, no deep emotion. When
he spoke, his voice was calm and unwavering.

"Son of Nyx, I warned you what would happen if you embarrassed me. You
begged for more subjects for your experiments. You got your nymph and
you allowed her to escape. She is your responsibility. You will find her
and bring her to me. Do you understand?"

Thanatos was unable to answer. The words could not pass through his
constricted throat. He nodded his head frantically.

The fingers loosened, lowered him back to his feet.

"You understand," Kronos continued, "that you are in very serious
difficulty. Your only hope is to do exactly as I tell you. The nymph was
to go with Eurybie, to be shown the sights of the palace. You will find
her and bring her here. You will say that I'wish to show her my garden.
You will stay with her--not let her out of your sight--until you deliver
her to me.

"Probably she and Eurybie will still be together," Kronos continued. "If
they are not, and if you do not stumble upon the sea goddess during your
search for the naiad, you will seek her out after you have brought
Nalassa to me. You will tell Eurybie that I command her immediate
presence. Do you understand this too?"

Thanatos nodded, rubbing his injured neck.

"Good. Then go."

Thanatos obeyed, more than happy to escape the company of his master.

After he had left, Kronos brooded for some time upon Nalassa and
Thanatos. When he had plumbed the matter as deeply as possible without
further information, he let his thoughts turn to more pleasant matters.

He remembered a necklace, a really fine work of craftsmanship that
glittered with opals and garnets and large white pearls. It would make a
good present for Philyra--a good way to open the second round of
bargaining. She would expect more, he knew, but the necklace would make
a fine beginning, neither too little nor too much.

TWENTY-SIX

However pleasant his reveries, he could not allow them to continue
indefinitely. Other matters demanded the attention of the Lord of the
Titans.

Arising from the enormous couch on which he had been reclining, he went
to look out a window. The sun had already passed zenith. Nearly an hour
and a half had elapsed and Thanatos had still not returned. Frowning,
Kronos shook himself and stretched his massive body. His brothers, Crios
and Koios, would be awaiting him below. For a moment he considered
postponing his plan for them. Through the window his eyes sought out a
distant range of mountains, and he found himself yearning for the cold,
moist air and dizzying open spaces. Olympos seemed very confining.

He decided suddenly that the nymph and the problems she posed could wait
two or three more hours. Stretching again, he could feel the pent-up
strength of his bulging muscles. Going to an adjoining room, he began to
dress, substituting a tough leather loincloth for the ornate linen he
had worn. On his feet he strapped high-ankled hunting boots, and over
his shoulders he draped a long, heavy cloak of bear skins. Belting a
small dagger to his side, he went to a rack against one wall and chose
three long, slender spears, each with tapering points of gleaming
bronze.

The two Titans were waiting for him on the otherwise deserted patio,
Koios seated in sullen dejection, Crios pacing. Both came forward as he
descended the steps from the portico, Koios in the lead, Crios hanging
back.

He surveyed them critically. "Simple leather and plain furs would serve
you better today than ornate garments more suited to a council of the
gods." He held all three spears in his huge right hand, their butts
planted on the ground and their points bristling toward the sky. The
suggestion of a smile played upon his lips and his eyes gleamed.

"It was you who first encouraged us to dress well," Koios said, looking
down at the short chiton of purple silk he wore. A jewel-studded girdle
circled his waist and a thin cloak, bordered with thread of silver and
gold, lay draped over his arm.

Kronos laughed. "It's been a long time since you killed your own meal.
Hyperion and Iapetos would never hunt in such clothes."

"They like to hunt," Crios said. His own garments were nearly as
ill-chosen as Koios's. "Why not let them do it? We have other things to
do."

"We all have our own preoccupations, but too often they make us forget
our basic needs. We've grown soft, brothers--in need of a little
vigorous exercise. And when the body is continually pampered, the mind
becomes dull and sleepy. It needs invigoration too. Come. We have far to
travel, much to do."

Draping his cloak over one arm, he caused wings to grow from his
shoulder blades. Koios and Crios followed his example, and within
moments the three were flying from Olympos. Kronos led the way, his huge
wings beating in slow, measured strokes. His brothers had to exert
themselves to keep pace with his effortless speed.

For some time they flew toward the north, alighting at last on the steep
slopes of a high mountain. All around them jutted other craggy peaks of
the same range.

"Why have we come here?" Crios asked. "There isn't any game up here." He
pulled his thin cloak about himself in an effort to keep the icy wind
from his body.

"Exactly right, brother. The game is below us, but from here we can see
anything that moves down there. We are Titans, not lesser gods. We must
have game suited to our rank. From here we can more easily spot our
quarry."

"Just what do you propose to hunt?" Koios asked.

"I haven't decided definitely. Perhaps we can locate a group of wild
boar. That would present a little excitement."

Koios frowned and Crios groaned. The prehistoric wild boar, more than
four feet high at the shoulders, would attack anything, even a god.
Lions retreated from their towering presence, but the boar almost always
stood its ground until the last moment, concealed by bushes, then
charged forward to gore and slash the feet of the unwary god. Hunting
such creatures often resulted in very painful injuries.

Kronos led them along a mountain path. For Crios and Koios the trip was
a nightmare. Mist floated among the rocks, often making it difficult to
see. The trail was narrow and winding. Sheer walls and gaping chasms met
them at every turn. When the route dipped lower they passed the remains
of a solitary dead tree, its bare branches stretched out forlornly like
frozen arms. The snow-covered walkway, strewn with easily dislodged
rocks, narrowed in places to a width that forced them to edge along with
their backs to the mountain, hands clinging to any available support.

They watched Kronos with amazement and growing terror. His sure footing
never failed him. While they crept along, convinced that the next step
might send them careening downward, Kronos followed the tortuous path
with perfect self-assurance. Fully erect, his chest expanded and his
shoulders thrust back, he seemed to relish the frigid air and awesome
danger of this world of stark precipices and looming chasms. He seemed
completely at home here, among the wild, jutting rocks, the ice and snow
and drifting mist.

Occasionally they stopped to peer down at the world below. On the lower
slopes of the mountain a saber-tooth stalked a cave goat, inching
forward behind the concealment of rocks and shrubs. A great bear
scratched its back against a boulder.

At last Kronos brought them to a halt, pointing down from a high cliff
toward a herd of mammoths on a distant plain. "There, that's fitting
game for Titans."

"But how can we get close enough?" Koios asked. "The plain is wide, with
nothing to conceal us."

"There's no need of concealment," Kronos said. "We shall kill them from
here."

Both Crios and Koios stared at him in disbelief.

"Shall I take the first cast, or one of you?"

They looked at each other. Finally Koios said, "I don't see that it
matters. Nobody could hit a target at this distance."

Kronos smiled. "We are brothers. We have lived together on Olympos for
countless ages. Yet there are still things about each other we don't
know."

"I know you were once very skilled with your spear, my brother and
lord," Koios said. "But I also know that Olympos occupies too much of
your time for you to hunt very often. I know, too, that such a thing is
impossible."

"You're wrong on two counts. I still hunt occasionally, though not
nearly as often as I would like; and it is not impossible. Have you ever
tried it?"

Koios shook his head.

Kronos gestured with the point of a spear toward the rocks that
surrounded them. "Much of my youth was spent in these mountains, in the
days when our father still ruled the earth and we all lived separately,
like beasts. I roamed these paths, spear in hand, loving the stark
majesty I found here. I was die master of these high, wild places where
no one else ever ventured. I still come here every now and then, to get
the stale air of Olympos out of my lungs."

"But no one can throw a spear that far, or hit so small a target," Koios
said.

"I could once. I learned to hunt from these peaks. I sharpened my eyes
and trained my muscles. I may be a little out of practice, but it is
most definitely not impossible. Try it with me; you may surprise
yourself. We should all throw at the same time. After the first strike,
the herd will bolt."

"I'll just watch, I think," Crios said, a whine in his voice.

"And you?" Kronos asked Koios.

"As you wish."

"Good, then throw with me." He stepped toward the edge of the sheer
cliff, Koios doing the same a little distance away. Holding two of the
spears in his left hand, Kronos balanced the third in his right. He
studied the wind, measured the distance, then drew back his arm.

The spear, as large as a full-grown pine, shot downward from the
mountain, the air screaming and roaring around it. A bull mammoth,
looking smaller than a child's wooden toy in the distance, had time to
look up from its grazing toward the deafening sound. Before it could
move, the shaft pierced it through and buried itself in the ground,
radiating shock waves through the earth that shook other members of the
herd to their knees.

Koios had flung his own spear downward only a fraction of a moment after
Kronos, but it fell short by at least half a mile.

"They're on the run now," Kronos said, "and far more difficult targets."

The herd had broken into a number of small groups, which were now
running in different directions. Kronos threw his second spear, aiming
ahead of the lead animal of one of the groups. It roared downward with
deadly accuracy, once again cleanly impaling the creature. Impact
tremors sent the other mammoths skidding among the high grass.

"Very impressive," Koios said coldly. "Whatever you're trying to prove,
brother, you have proven it."

Crios was trembling, both from cold and from fear. He cursed the
circumstances that had made him a party to Kronos's schemes.

"This way," Kronos said. "We may find more game on the other side of the
mountain."

"What about the kill and our spears?" Koios asked.

"I still have one left, and Crios has his. We'll collect the others and
the game on our way home."

Reluctantly they followed him along the narrow trail. The path grew even
more rugged. Mist hung all around them as they climbed upward; snow and
ice crunched under their feet.

With a thought and a gesture of his hand, Kronos commanded a part of the
mist, sending it on ahead to a place he knew. Obeying, it moved past
them in unnoticed wisps and swirls.

"Years beyond number have come and gone," Kronos said softly, "and yet
these rocks are all but unaffected by the passage of time. It seems
odd--for we have changed so much."

He spoke as they walked, glancing around occasionally to look at them.
"So much has happened over the ages that our memories of those earliest
of times have grown dim. A place like this makes me remember--reawakens
those dim memories. I come here for a few hours, and when I return to
Olympos, my problems there seem small and manageable, insignificant
beside the vast forces of nature that have already been tamed."

The path had broadened, and they were now approaching a wide, relatively
flat area ringed by lower peaks. Kronos slowed, moving in such a way
that his brothers went on ahead of him, stopping near the open area.
They turned to face him as he stood with his back to a wall of rock.

"It's very easy on Olympos to forget the way things were. Most of us no
longer hunt our own food. We're never hungry. We not only have clothes
to keep us warm, but fine clothes, the work of hands more skilled than
our own. The rain and the cold no longer touch us, and there is always
beauty within sight, if we care to look for it. Comfort and luxury
surround us, and we forget how long it took to acquire all that. We
forget that once we lived like the animals that teem upon the world
below.

"No--worse than animals," he continued, eyeing them narrowly, "for we
fought with each other for the wealth of those days, food and skins and
comfortable patches of grass upon which to sleep. We cared only for
ourselves, instead of working for our mutual good. ..."

"We haven't forgotten," Koios said. "You've reminded us often enough how
much we owe you. What are you getting at? We've already sworn to obey
you."

Kronos nodded. "What was needed was organization--a brain to direct the
many hands. I became that directing brain, and I wrested cooperation
from even the most unwilling. For the most part I did it by making it
worthwhile to do as I wished. Only occasionally had I to resort to
violence to impose my will."

Koios was becoming angry. "What are you saying? That you won't spit us
upon your spears as you did the mammoths-- unless we make it necessary?"

Kronos smiled. "No, brother, I am trying to make you understand the
absolute folly of opposing me. I never flaunt my skill and power. I use
it sparingly, only when--"

"Your demonstration was quite impressive. You can strike us down from
unimaginable distances, when we think ourselves perfectly safe. You've
made your point very well and--"

"No, I haven't." Kronos's face became implacable. "I need no spear to
deal with traitors. You have not the slightest conception of the powers
I am capable of wielding. At my command the very earth will swallow you
up!"

He pointed past mem as he spoke, toward the wide, plateaulike area. As
he pointed he issued a mental command.

The mist, which had formed itself into a phantom landscape, gave up its
deceitful form and drifted away. A gaping chasm, nearly six thousand
feet deep, yawned almost at their heels, its sides toothed with jagged
points of rock.

Crios screamed, throwing himself forward. Gasping for breath, he lurched
toward a boulder, his knees shaking so wildly that he could hardly
stand. Koios's face turned ashen as the magnitude of the act and the
nearness of danger became clear. He walked stiffly away from the edge,
trembling.

The illusion was complete. An entire section of mountain seemed to have
vanished. Had Kronos wanted to punish them, they thought, he could have
made the chasm appear a few inches nearer. Before they could cause wings
to grow, they would have been ripped apart upon the ragged cliffs. To
varying degrees most of the gods were capable of altering matter, but it
required intense concentration and usually could be performed only
piecemeal, or on small objects. Such an act as this was beyond anything
they had thought possible.

"I have no wish to harm you," Kronos said slowly, standing above them
now that Koios had collapsed upon a boulder near his brother. "My
purpose is simple and straightforward. I must have your complete and
unquestioning obedience."

It took several moments for either of them to recover enough composure
to answer.

"Only a fool would oppose you," Koios finally said, his mouth dry and
his lips quivering. "I will obey you in everything."

"I will obey, I will obey!" Crios almost shrieked, covering his face
with his hands.

He gave them a few minutes to steady themselves, then said, "Shall we
continue? We need more game for the larder. The way is impassible now.
We will have to detour."

They followed in silence as he led them up the frozen face of the cliff
to another path. His eyes were gleaming. His bulging muscles carried him
effortlessly over every obstacle. Tall and unbending against the bitter
wind, he glanced back to watch as they struggled to keep up.

He need no longer be concerned about their obedience; he was certain of
that now. He only wished Iapetos could be brought to heel as easily.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Thanatos's search proved lengthy and frustrating. He went first to the
patio, but found neither the naiad nor the sea goddess. Neither were
they in any of the communal areas of the palace. Finally he went to the
apartment of Eurybie. No one answered his knock, but the door was
unlatched. He searched within, still in vain. Only one other possibility
suggested itself. He went to the chambers of Iapetos.

He intended to question Philyra. He was suspicious of the Okeanid both
because she had eaten breakfast with Nalassa and because she was Metis's
sister. Even if she had no connection to the escape of the naiad and the
mortals, she might have invited Nalassa to visit her. At the same time
he hoped to interrogate Metis about the missing mortals.

He found Prometheus and Epimetheus playing in the atrium. The boys
looked up in surprise as he entered without announcing himself.

"Oh, it's you," Prometheus said acidly, standing up from the game he had
been playing on the floor and taking a bold step forward. "What do you
want? I'm going to tell my father how you keep sneaking in here."

"Where is the Okeanid Philyra?"

Prometheus hesitated before answering. Finally he nodded hi the
direction of her room. Thanatos started to move in that direction, but
Prometheus ran in front of him.

"I'll get her," he said. "I'll bring her here."

Thanatos took two or three more steps, but then changed his mind and
came to a halt. He preferred to surprise the goddess, possibly hearing
or seeing something that she would otherwise try to hide from him.
Nevertheless the boy's firm voice and prompt action made him wait in the
atrium.

Philyra returned with Prometheus. "You wish to see me?" she asked.

"I wish to see the nymph Nalassa. Is she here?"

Philyra concealed her uneasiness as best she could. "You mean the nymph
I met at breakfast? No, I haven't seen her since."

"Do you know where she might be?"

"I believe Lady Eurybie was going to show her about the palace."

Thanatos listened without discernable reaction. "Is Metis in her room? I
wish to speak with her." He stepped quickly around the divine maiden and
moved down the short hall before Prometheus could intervene. A few quick
steps brought him to the door.

He stepped inside, looking around the cluttered room. Instead of Metis
he found Iapetos.

"Good morning, Thanatos," the god said, coming toward him. "Are you
seeking me?"

Prometheus had followed behind Thanatos. The unexpected presence of his
father in Metis's room puzzled him as he edged his way to a corner to
watch.

Thanatos was puzzled, too, and surprised. "But I thought you were
going--" He had passed Iapetos not long before and expected him by now
to be in his workshop.

"He's looking for Metis," Prometheus said. "This is the second time he's
entered our apartment without being invited. He pushed his way past us."

Iapetos listened to the boy, then looked at the god. "Does he speak the
truth? Such conduct is very questionable. I'm sure you have a good
reason to act in such a way, but you risk being thought discourteous."

"P-p-pardon, Lord Iapetos," Thanatos said, starting to stammer as he
backed toward the door. "I'm on an e-e-errand for L-L-Lord K-K-Kronos."

"An errand for my brother? It concerns Metis? Tell me about it. Perhaps
I can assist you."

"I won't t-t-trouble you any 1-1-longer. I'll come b-b-back. . . ." He
continued backing toward the door, so that Philyra and Epimetheus had to
stand aside to let him pass back out into the hallway.

"As you wish," Iapetos said, following as Thanatos retreated. "Come
whenever you like, though I trust you'll remember to properly announce
yourself before entering."

"Y-y-yes, my 1-1-lord," Thanatos said, bowing as he backed down the
hall. They all followed him to the atrium.

When he left the apartment, Prometheus and Epimetheus began laughing.
"Oh, Father," Prometheus said. "I'm so glad you were here. I thought you
had gone out. But why were you in Metis's room?"

"I was looking for Metis," he answered with a smile.

"Is she in trouble?" Epimetheus asked.

"Back to your toys, children. Philyra, come tell me exactly what
happened here."

Philyra followed him back to Metis's room. "Perhaps Thanatos will think
twice in the future before being so rude," he said as the door closed
behind them. The features of Iapetos blurred, and a moment later Proteus
stood before his sister.

"That was very close," she said, grinning.

"Luckily I heard you talking to him outside. His voice is rather loud,
and quite distinctive."

"How long have you been here? You weren't around when I returned from
breakfast. And where's Metis?"

"I arrived only a few minutes ago, by way of the tunnels. They interlink
much of the palace. Metis is getting the mortals settled and will
probably be busy for quite a while yet."

"Where are they?"

"We decided Thanatos would search every room in the palace for them,
starting here and then proceeding through all the unoccupied apartments
before tackling the occupied ones." He paused, grinning. "I have a
riddle for you, sister. Which apartment is both occupied and unoccupied
at the same time?"

She frowned. "I'm no good at riddles. Just tell me--wait! Our parents
have rooms here, even though they never visit. Is that it?"

He shook his head. "Too obvious. Thanatos will think of that right off.
This is a standing joke in the palace, Metis tells me. Momos--Thanatos's
brother, you realize--has chambers of his own, but almost never uses
them."

Philyra laughed. "He always falls asleep on the benches in the corridor.
He's probably forgotten where his rooms are!"

"So Metis tells me. We've moved Oizys and the mortals to his apartment.
One of the rooms has an entrance to the system of tunnels, so it will be
relatively easy to come and go between it and this room."

He pulled a chair from the wall and sat down. "How did your engagement
with our amorous king go this morning?"

She blushed slightly. "Much better than I had hoped, though for a while
I thought I was going to have a rough time. I told him as gently as I
could that I wasn't interested, and he let me leave."

Proteus's eyebrows rose. "I wouldn't have expected that."

"Neither did I. I'll tell you all about it when we have more time. Now
you must know why Thanatos was here. He was looking for Nalassa."

Proteus considered her statement for a moment. "Our bluff hasn't worked
then, though it did buy us a few extra hours. There really wasn't
anything else we could have done. Where is she?"

"I don't know!" Philyra related quickly what had happened at breakfast.

"Then Kronos didn't recognize her," Proteus said. "Everything she said
was lost on him."

"Thanatos must have told him by now."

Proteus nodded. "Very likely."

She had pulled a chair near his and leaned forward now to place a hand
on his arm. "She's in danger--very grave danger, judging from everything
I've been told. You promised to help her, brother."

"I will."

"But we don't even know where she is. She should be warned, before
Thanatos finds her."

"We don't need to know wh--"

They were interrupted by a faint cry from the direction of the entrance
to Ophion's tunnel. "Come on, you two," the voice called. "This isn't
funny."

Proteus pulled away from the entrance the heavy chest he had pushed
there seconds before Thanatos entered the room. A mortal-size figure
jumped to the floor and immediately resumed its normal size.

"Metis!" Philyra exclaimed, blushing fiercely. "Where are your clothes?”

The child crossed the room and recovered her chiton from the place where
she had tossed it. A few quick movements pulled it over her head and
adjusted it properly.

"I'm starting to get the knack of staying small," the girl explained,
"but I don't dare try to concentrate on something else -- like phantom
clothing -- at the same time. You wouldn't want me to crush myself
inside there, would you? And I haven't had time to make little clothing
for myself yet."

"Don't bother," Philyra said. "I'll make some for you!"

"That reminds me," Proteus said, turning to Philyra, "can you change
size yourself?"

"You mean become as small as she was? I suppose so. I can't impersonate
others the way you do, but I can change shapes. I often became a dolphin
when I swam."

"Can you hold the shape for a long time?"

"As long as I've ever wanted to. I have good concentration. I used to
tease sharks and let them chase me."

"You!" Metis said.

Proteus smiled. "She wasn't always prissy and proper," he told the
child. Turning back to Philyra, he said, "Practice becoming the size of
a man. You may have to travel through the tunnels yourself. We can't
have you seen coming and going from Momos's rooms."

"You should see Alalkomeneus," Metis said. "He's taking charge of the
other men, keeping them from wandering too far or getting into trouble.
Some of them are already starting to imitate his speech, making sounds
that are almost words."

"But what about Nalassa?" Philyra demanded. "Aren't you going to do
anything?"

"What happened?" Metis asked.

They told her of Thanatos's visit. The child's face radiated outrage.
"He came here to find Alalkomeneus and the other men. He may have hoped
to find Nalassa, but he was really looking for them."

"And, I fear, he may suspect more than he realizes yet. He must have
seen Iapetos shortly before coming here. He certainly didn't expect to
find him at home. If he thinks very much about it . . ."

He threw himself into a chair, slumping deep into its cushions. "I'm
afraid our time is almost up. Before long Nalassa will be a prisoner,
and even if Kronos doesn't force from her all that she knows, I shall
have to rescue her--and that will certainly stir up a caldron of
activity. At least you two will not be implicated and will be able to
remain here on Olympos and work for our father's interests. I spent the
afternoon searching the lower levels of the palace for Aigaion's cell,
but it's useless. The palace is far too large."

"Have you no clue at all?" Philyra asked.

"Only what little I overheard Kronos telling Eurybie. He is safe--under
Kronos's personal protection--and will arrive in the Kingdom of Nereus
with Kronos's entourage."

"Then you don't even know for sure that he's still here on Olympos,"
Philyra said.

"Oh, he's here. I'm certain of that. I can feel it. I've been searching
for a room designed to hold a god prisoner, but if there is such a cell,
it's probably so well concealed that I could never find it. If Kronos
simply has him under full-time guard, I might locate him eventually, but
it would mean searching every apartment. Worse still, Kronos might be
keeping him in a state of perpetual unconsciousness--by denying him all
food and drink, for instance. Then he might be concealed in almost any
compartment large enough to accommodate him. I fear it's hopeless."

"You could try to rescue him when he joins the entourage," Metis
suggested.

"I suspect Kronos will be prepared for such a contin- -gency." He
sighed, then rose to his feet. "I'd better see about Nalassa now."

"But you don't know where to find her," Philyra objected.

"She'll be brought either to the chambers of Kronos or of Thanatos." He
turned to Metis. "Will you be where I can find you later?"

The child goddess wore a look of angry determination. "I'll be here
until supper. Brother, don't worry very much about Thanatos. I have a
score to settle with him." Her expression discouraged inquiry.

Proteus threw off the cloak that had been wrapped about his body. A
moment later he assumed the form of a bat and flew into the open mouth
of Ophion's tunnel.

Metis moved to one side of the room, near the gallery.

Squatting on the floor, she spread a number of plants before her.

"What are you doing?" Philyra asked, standing behind her now.

Metis held in her hand a small plant. "I'm keeping a promise to myself.
Please don't talk. I need to concentrate."

She turned her attention back to the herb, staring fiercely down at it.
Philyra watched from above her. The plant began to change, a small,
mushroomlike bulb sprouting from the tip of one of the stalks.

Philyra started to object, but then changed her mind. She had a glimmer
of what her young sister planned. Smiling, she returned to her own room.

TWENTY-EIGHT

Thanatos grumbled to himself as he left the chambers of Iapetos. Trying
to locate a single individual among the innumerable rooms and passages
of Olympos was an almost hopeless undertaking. He cursed the nymph for
the trouble she was causing him.

Actually the odds of his finding Nalassa were even worse than he
suspected. Eurybie and the naiad had finished their tour of the palace
before Thanatos began searching for them. Realizing that Nalassa was in
need of rest, Eurybie suggested they postpone the lesser sights for a
later day and proposed instead that they find an apartment for her.
Suitable quarters were available on the same floor that Eurybie
occupied. Most of the time that Thanatos was searching for them, they
were in the new apartment, chatting and putting the rooms in order.

Eurybie had taken the nymph under her wing to separate her from
Philyra--so that Kronos could have the Okeanid all to himself. But the
sea goddess had a secondary motive as well. She made a point of learning
all she could about each of the inhabitants of the palace. She used
information as a weapon and worked very hard to keep her arsenal fully
stocked.

To her surprise she found herself enjoying the company of the naiad.
Nalassa's low-key, friendly personality made it easy to forget the
passage of time. Her homely stories of her parents and sisters had both
humor and charm. Eurybie finally left her, having thoroughly enjoyed the
hours they had spent together.

Thanatos was waiting for the sea goddess as she reached her own
apartment.

"Where is the nymph?" he demanded, stepping out of the shadows.

"Nalassa? I just left her. Why do you ask?"

"I must bring her to Lord Kronos. Will you lead me to her?"

Eurybie laughed cynically. "Her education begins even sooner than I
thought. . . . Such charming simplicity here on Olympos--sooner might
the moth nest untouched within the flame!"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I am to bring her to Lord
Kronos as soon as I find her, and you are to go to him also, as soon as
you have led me to her."

She pursed her lips. "That's peculiar. There may be more afoot than I
suspected. She's down the corridor, around the corner. Come."

They reached the door and Thanatos entered immediately. Already curious,
Eurybie became even more so as she watched the god. He crept across the
atrium, listened, then headed toward one of the adjoining rooms. She
followed him at a distance.

Nalassa was in her new bedchamber, arranging the bed in preparation for
a much needed nap. She had spent the last few minutes trying to decide
how she could go about informing Proteus and Philyra of her whereabouts.
If she went to the apartment of Iapetos, she risked linking Philyra to
herself, thereby putting her in jeopardy. The only other option she
could think of was to wait until dinner and hope to reestablish contact
then. This left her in some danger but was preferable to endangering
others. With that settled, however unsatisfactorily, she decided to try
to sleep for an hour or two.

A slight sound made her swing suddenly around. Thanatos was only a few
steps away, and she caught a glimpse of Eurybie in the doorway. A
startled cry escaped her lips. She twisted first one way and then the
other, seeking some avenue of escape as she backed away from him.

Thanatos came to a stop and stood upright. "I come from Lord Kronos," he
said stiffly. "He wishes to see you."

Calming herself now that she had retreated partway across the room, she
said, "I'll be happy to see Lord Kronos again. I'll go to him as soon as
I've had time to prepare myself. Where does he expect me?"

"He wishes you to come immediately to his chambers."

"It'll take only a few minutes for me to adjust my hair and clothing.
Tell him I will be there very shortly."

"My instructions are to bring you as soon as I find you," Thanatos said,
annoyed at the delay. He started toward her, but stopped again when she
immediately began backing toward the entrance of an adjoining room.

Nalassa glanced past him, toward Eurybie. "This is really quite
impossible," she said. "I must have a few minutes to prepare myself. I
could have been nearly finished by now. Please deliver my message. Lady
Eurybie can lead me to the king."

Thanatos turned toward the sea goddess, surprised to find her behind
him. "You were to go to Lord Kronos without delay. Why are you here?"

Eurybie came forward into the room now. "This is far too interesting to
miss. I'll go up with Nalassa."

"Kronos commands you to go immediately. This is none of your concern."

Eurybie shrugged her shoulders and turned her back upon the god. She
retreated only as far as the atrium, then crept back to listen and
watch.

"I won't go with you," Nalassa was saying.

"You defy the King of the Gods?"

"I do not defy him. I will go to him--but not with you!" Her eyes
flitted past him, toward the open doorway. Behind her in the other room
lay only a dead end.

"I have no time for this," the god said. "You will come--"

She bolted around him, toward the atrium. He lunged after her, clutching
her around the waist. Twisting to face him, she thrust the palms of her
hands into his face. He lost his grip, and she ran into the next room.
As she passed, Eurybie stepped back from the doorway and flattened
herself against the wall.

Thanatos caught the nymph before she could open the outer door to the
corridor. Turning on him again, she kicked and scratched. Real fear
gripped her, and she was determined not to fall into his hands again. At
last he managed to twist one of her arms up behind her back. She
continued to struggle until the pain became excruciating, then suddenly
became limp.

Relaxing his hold, he opened the door and shoved her toward it. "Now we
will go."

She spun around and pushed him away, then ran into the corridor. He
picked himself up and stumbled after her.

Eurybie crossed the room and peered out after them, watching in
amazement as the god and the naiad battled their way down the corridor.
Each time Thanatos caught her, she squirmed and struggled free of his
grasp. It was an astonishing display, unlike anything Eurybie had
witnessed in the three years she had lived in the palace. It fascinated
her at the same time that it inspired feelings of sympathy for the
nymph, whose terror was obviously genuine; she even felt a momentary
inclination to intercede on Nalassa's behalf. Instead she followed along
behind them, by turns amused and concerned.

Finally Thanatos was able to deliver a stunning blow to the naiad's
face. He struck her twice more, then threw her over his shoulder,
ignoring the gawking stares of the lesser gods and goddesses who had
stopped to watch. He carried her toward the stairs.

Eurybie followed, determined to satisfy her curiosity.

Thanatos took the most direct route he could find to the chambers of
Kronos. Time and again he passed gods and goddesses who turned to stare
at him and the attractive female slung across his shoulder. At last they
reached the top floor of the palace and he deposited the unconscious
Nalassa on a divan in the outermost room of Kronos's personal quarters.
He went to the adjoining doorways and called aloud, receiving no
response.

Eurybie stood just inside the room as he returned. "Well," she said,
"you've got us both here. Now where is my lord?"

"I don't know."

She stared at him in astonishment, then began to laugh almost
uncontrollably. "You beat her unconscious because she wouldn't come
immediately--and he isn't even here!"

"He must have gone out. It took me a long time to find you."

Shaking her head, she moved toward Nalassa. She arranged her more
comfortably on the divan, then brought nectar and let a few drops touch
her lips. The naiad began to stir, then slowly sat up.

"I don't know what's going on here," Eurybie said, "but it certainly has
relieved my boredom. Are you all right?"

Nalassa stretched her limbs tentatively, then began to rub her jaw.

"Relatively speaking, I mean," Eurybie said.

Nalassa smiled slightiy. "I suppose I could feel worse. Where are we?"

"In the chambers of the king. Thanatos was very determined to fulfill
his mission--and made quite a spectacle of himself in the process.
Unfortunately, Lord Kronos is not at home."

"Yes he is," a deep voice said from behind them.

Kronos entered the room, still dressed for the hunt, carrying his three
spears. His eyes swept from Eurybie to Nalassa to Thanatos. Glaring at
the god, he said, "So you made a spectacle of yourself, did you? And
beat the nymph as well?"

"It'd be more precise to say he made a spectacle of himself by beating
her--and being beaten by her!" Eurybie said gaily.

Thanatos's eyes could not meet the unflinching gaze of his master. His
fingers were tenderly stroking the long, painful scratches that ran down
his face.

"Wait in the hall," Kronos told him. "I'll call you when I want you." He
turned to Eurybie. "You too. Both of you stay in the corridor until I
call."

Eurybie rose, straightening her peplos and smiling politely. "As my lord
commands."

Kronos carried his spears to a nearby room and placed them in a rack,
then returned to the nymph. She was standing. He brought two chairs from
their places near the wall and motioned to her to be seated. She
complied, and he sat across from her, leaning forward as he spoke. He
smiled to put her at ease.

"I shall not lull you with sly words, Nalassa--that is your name, is it
not?"

She nodded, her large brown eyes unable to completely conceal the fear
she felt.

"Thanatos's overenthusiasm has made that unnecessary. You know why you
are here. Tell me all I want to know, and I will treat you as kindly as
I can."

"What do you wish to know?"

"How you escaped from Thanatos's room, who helped you, and whom you have
told."

"No one helped me. I managed to free my hands from their bonds, though
it took much of the night. The door to his bedroom was locked, but the
bolt is easy to work from the inside. He was asleep, and I crept out
into the corridor. No one was about, so-- "

"What about the mortals--the little, godlike creatures?"

"Oh," she said, as though she had forgotten them until reminded. "He had
brought them to Olympos at the same time that he brought me. The first
thing he did was to ... to cut off the head of one of them. It was
terrible! Before I left the room, I opened their cage. I ... I hoped
they would escape, that he would kill no more of them. I left all the
doors open--from that room to his bedroom, from the apartment to the
corridor--that they might have a chance to get away. Did ... did any of
them manage to escape?"

"All of them escaped."

"All! Oh, I dared not hope as much. ..." Her mind was working very fast.
He had not asked about the head of Oizys. Should she mention it, or wait
for him to question her concerning it?

"What did you do then? After reaching the corridor?"

"I didn't know what to do. I had only been to Olympos once before, when
I was very young and my father brought me. I am one of the daughters of
Asopos, the river god. When I found no one about--it was very late by
then--I decided to try to awaken someone. I had descended a number of
flights of stairs, to get far from him. No one answered at the first
apartment I tried, but the door opened when I pushed on it, and I went
inside. Soon I realized that no one was living there. Under the
circumstances, I decided to stay until morning. One of the rooms had a
number of chests--being stored there, I suppose. In the morning I
cleaned myself up and found this gown. I dressed and went downstairs.
Breakfast was being served and--"

"Whom did you expect to find there?"

"No one. I know no one here on Olympos."

He studied her face as she spoke, trying to determine if she were lying.
"And whom have you told of your adventure?"

"No one."

"Not even Eurybie? You have been with her most of the time since
breakfast, have you not?"

"I've been with no one else, until Thanatos came to get me. We spoke of
many things, but I told her nothing about what had happened to me."

"Why have you told no one?" he asked. "Something extraordinary had
befallen you. Why did you not come to me and tell me that Thanatos had
abducted you?"

"I was afraid to," she said softly. "I was afraid that I might offend
you.”

"How would that offend me?"

"I thought that you, the Lord of Olympos, must know what he was
doing--if not that he had abducted me, then at least of the terrible
things in his room. It did not seem reasonable that he could do such
things on Olympos without your being aware of it and tolerating it. It
seemed better to keep my own counsel until I could learn more about
Olympos.''

His face was unreadable. "I ask you again, whom have you told?"

"No one, my lord!" Her eyes became very large, looking straight into
his. "You heard me at breakfast, and I had not spoken to anyone until
then. I spoke to Eurybie about many things, but not that, and I have
spoken to no one but you and Thanatos since." She paused, her expression
suggesting that a new idea had just occurred to her. "Lord Kronos,
Eurybie does not know of the room? Is it a secret from the gods who live
on Olympos? Is that why you are concerned?"

He did not answer.

"If that is the case, you need have no fear. I'll tell no one. I'm very
good at minding my own business."

He stared at her, trying to decide if she was telling the truth. As long
as no one else knew of Thanatos's work, the rest of her story did not
really matter. She could not be allowed to go free in any event. Finally
he rose and went to the door, calling to Thanatos.

"Take her to your room," he told him when he had entered the apartment.
"Keep her there until I tell you otherwise."

"May I begin my experiments?" the god asked anxiously.

The Lord of the Titans sighed. "Do as you are told--no more or less. You
are responsible for all of this. Keep her in your quarters. Let no one
talk to her. Treat her well, and dare not harm her."

"But my experiments--I must have a nymph--"

"Do as you are told," Kronos said firmly. He turned to Nalassa. "Go with
him. If he harms you, I will punish him. You are to see and speak with
no one until I decide what must be done."

He waited until they disappeared down the corridor, then called in
Eurybie. He interrogated her at length, dismissing her only when he had
satisfied himself that Nalassa had told the truth, at least concerning
the sea goddess.

He sat alone for some minutes, head cradled in his hands, then rose and
made his way to the garden atop the palace. The naiad must be kept
silent, he thought as he strolled among the frolicking blossoms. He
could send her to Tartaros, or he could let Thanatos have her for his
experiments. He had to be assured of her silence, and one solution was
no cruder than the other. She was a pretty thing, and he had no desire
to see her harmed, yet necessity was always the final arbiter of such
matters.

He would let Thanatos have her, he decided reluctantly. It was better
than to sacrifice another nymph to him while this one languished in
Tartaros. But not here. He would have to take her someplace else to do
his work, someplace far away. The disappearance of the mortals, however,
still puzzled him.

As Kronos weighed the fate of the naiad, his other prisoner steeled
himself for a terrible ordeal. He was determined to concentrate all his
remaining energy in an effort to extend his consciousness outward from
his mind toward the rest of his body. He would force it downward, into
his arms and hands. He knew he could not move them, but he wanted to
reassure himself that they were still there, that they still existed.

He sought the familiar feel of his neck and shoulders. Instead he
found--strangeness. The muscles felt different somehow. The firm
hardness of the bones eluded him. He forced himself to continue. Instead
of arms and hands he found--

And then Aigaion remembered. He remembered what he was and how he had
become that way, and mixed with that recollection was a vagrant memory
that sent shudders through him.

He had once heard the story, amusing but unlikely, of a god who had
retained an alien form so long that he could never again change back. In
that instant he knew that the story was true, and that the same thing
was happening to him.

TWENTY-NINE

Proteus, the shape changer, flew through the inky blackness, his
membranous bat wings thrashing the still air and his ultrasonic cries
guiding him unerringly through the mazelike twists and turns of Ophion's
tunnel toward the topmost level of the palace. Though he had traveled
the route but once, his quick eyes and sure memory had noted every
detail, so that now he had no difficulty in finding the way--even flying
at top speed, in a strange form.

Within minutes he reached the secret room of Thanatos. He paused only to
assure himself that no one would see him, then resumed his normal form
as he alighted upon the floor. The caged animals began to stir at his
presence. Moving slowly so that he would not frighten them, he crept
toward the door and pressed an ear to the cold metal.

From without he could hear nothing. Opening the door, he peered out
through a narrow crack, then moved into the bedchamber. He made his way
slowly and cautiously from one room to the next, finally reaching the
door that led out into the main corridor.

Twenty or thirty minutes had passed since Thanatos had left the chambers
of Iapetos. He was not in his own quarters; therefore he had not yet
found Nalassa, or he had taken her to Kronos--probably to the suite of
rooms at the other end of the corridor. Rather than risk discovery,
Proteus retreated to a room that opened onto the gallery. Assuming the
form of a bird, he flew around the outside of the building.

He could hear voices even as he climbed over the high sill into one of
the rear rooms of the apartment. Within moments he reached a point from
which he could proceed confidently; his clandestine visit of the night
before had left him familiar with the important details of the suite. He
had no difficulty locating the room in which Kronos had entertained both
Eurybie and Lady Rhea.

He crept cautiously toward the doorway, hugging the wall as he stepped
over open chests bulging with silk and linen, around tables heaped with
golden plates and platters, then darted across the room to slip behind
the amphorae and bulging skin flasks that had concealed him last night.
Once again he could see clearly into the adjoining room.

Nalassa lay upon a divan, just recovering from unconsciousness. Thanatos
was there, too, and to Proteus's surprise, Eurybie bent over the naiad,
comforting her.

Soon Kronos appeared, and Proteus followed with interest all that was
said. He remained in concealment after Nalassa and Thanatos were sent
away, listening as Kronos questioned Eurybie. Even after she was
dismissed, he waited. He knew the Titan was considering her story and
hoped to gain some clue to what he thought. In this, however, he was
unsuccessful.

After Kronos, too, departed, Proteus came out of his hiding place and
moved toward the doorway. Before passing through it, however, he
hesitated. In the darkness and haste of the previous night he had not
noticed the nature of the items that filled the room. Now he stood
studying the stacked chests, the open casks of jewels, the silks and
linens and golden implements. Together they constituted a truly royal
gift from the King of the Gods to the newly married--and newly
installed--Queen of the Aegean.

He started again to leave, but turned back instead to stare at the
heaped riches. He could not escape the feeling that somehow these gifts
held some significance for him. But what could it be, other than that
they were gathered here by Kronos--in his safekeeping, one might say?
And these wedding presents, certainly, would be carried to the Kingdom
of Nereus with Kronos's entourage.

But none of the items was large enough to contain a god.

Still he hesitated, troubled. These gifts suggested something to him,
something elusive ... As he stood thinking, he noticed the floor in
front of one of the chests. Kneeling, he touched a finger to the floor,
then to his tongue.

He went to work immediately, quickly and quietly, since Kronos could
return at any moment. He opened the chests one by one, unfastening their
catches and unstacking them as necessary. At the very bottom of the
stack he found the chest he sought, filled to the brim with salt.

Why would Kronos give salt to a sea goddess?

He thrust his arm into the chest, sifting the contents. When he brought
it back out, he held a crab. He brushed the salt from the creature, then
shook it slightly. In response it moved its limbs feebly.

Why would Kronos give a crab to a sea goddess, unless the crab was not a
crab at all, but a god somehow trapped in that form? Proteus could
imagine no other explanation. He shook the crustacean again in hope of
reviving the god, then cleaned up the spilled salt and replaced the
chests as he had found them.

Before entering Kronos 's chambers he had draped himself in a phantom
cloak; now he reshaped it into a garment suitable to the King of the
Gods and concealed the creature beneath it. Assuming the form of Kronos,
he went quickly to the outer corridor and followed it to Thanatos's
chambers.

He threw open the door and entered, perfectly mimicking the natural,
regal bearing of the Titan. Thanatos leaped to his feet as his king
entered.

"She is here, just as you commanded," he said, bowing slightly.

Nalassa, on edge from the mere company of Thanatos, gripped the arms of
her chair. She feared that Kronos's sudden appearance indicated that he
had reached a decision concerning her.

"You've decided?" Thanatos asked, thinking the same thing. "How soon may
I resume my work?"

"I have not decided." The god turned toward the river nymph. "Come. I
wish to question you further. You need not be frightened."

Nalassa rose, and he gestured to her to precede him. She was
apprehensive, but more than happy to escape the presence of Thanatos.
The door closed behind them and Thanatos was left to his frustrations.

Cursing the nymph, Thanatos slumped into his chair. Delay and
disappointment met him at every turn. Nalassa promised the most
interesting results, but even a single mortal would have satisfied him.

He sat up suddenly. What a fool he had been! He'd had the nymph to
himself and forgotten to ask her what she had done with the mortals. He
stood up, hesitating. Perhaps he could still find out, before she and
Kronos entered the king's chambers. He dared not interrupt once they
were inside, but they had not yet had time to reach the rooms.

Opening the door, he saw that they were still in sight. He could still
catch them if he tried. Holding up the hem of his long chiton, he rushed
after them. They were farther ahead than he had thought; they reached
the entrance before he caught up with them, but instead of entering
Kronos's chambers, they continued down the hall.

Thanatos slowed to a stop, watching as his master and the river nymph
disappeared into the stairwell. Why had they gone that way? Kronos had
said he wanted to talk to her. Why was he taking her downstairs?

Thanatos began to walk again, slowly increasing his speed as he followed
them.

As soon as they left Thanatos's quarters, Nalassa was surprised to have
Kronos take her hand and squeeze it gently. She looked questioningly
into his face.

"Quiet, Nalassa," the god said. "You are safe--or nearly so. Appearances
are often deceiving."

"What do you mean, Lord Kronos?" She had hoped that Proteus would
somehow learn of her predicament and come for her. She dared not let
herself believe that this hope had already been gratified. Again and
again she darted quick glances at the god who accompanied her.

"Yes, it is I--Proteus," he whispered, smiling.

"Oh, Proteus! I knew you would come if you knew where I was--but I
didn't think you could know."

"Quiet," he repeated.

They descended the stairs, the naiad almost heady with relief after the
fear and tension of the last hours. The touch of his hand seemed like
the most wonderful thing in the world.

She knew of his unequaled abilities and felt a complete trust in them.
He was with her, and nothing could go wrong now.

"Someone's coming up toward us," he said.

He was leading her toward the chambers of Momos. They had descended
three floors and had four more to go.

"Walk ahead of me," he told her. Once more he changed shapes. As Kronos
he would attract attention; not only would he be noticed, but many of
the gods they passed would want to talk briefly with him. Thanatos was
safely behind them, and no one wanted to talk to him. He assumed the
tall, emaciated form of the son of Nyx.

Nalassa was now nearly ten steps below him as Momos came into sight,
climbing slowly and grumbling to himself. The nymph moved far to one
side to avoid him; nevertheless he managed to bump against her as he
passed.

"Too narrow too!" the god said. "Too many steps and far too narrow."

Proteus--now in the form of Thanatos--edged to one side as Momos
squinted at him.

"Most unpleasant," the rumpled god continued to himself. "Pressed up
tight with the most unpleasant company imaginable . . ."

The real Thanatos, puzzled and growing more and more suspicious, had
increased his pace to the point that he was quickly drawing closer to
those he followed. Now he found Momos coming upward toward him, weaving
from one side of the staircase to the other.

"Out of my way, fool," he snapped as they drew near each other.

Momos blinked at him, slowing almost to a stop and blocking the way so
that Thanatos could only squeeze past him with difficulty.

"There should be a law," Momos was saying, shaking a finger in his
brother's face. "I'm going to talk to Lord Kronos. Nobody should be
allowed to come down without going back up first."

"Move," Thanatos said in exasperation, taking him by the shoulders and
shoving him roughly against one of the walls.

"No wonder the stairs are always crowded," Momos said. "No wonder at
all, when you go down twice while I'm still trying to go up once."

Thanatos pushed past him and continued downward. Long years had
accustomed him to completely ignoring everything his brother said. What
a fool Momos was. Of course you had to go up the stairs before you could
come back down again.

Proteus, hearing voices behind them but unaware that they were being
followed, caught up with Nalassa and changed forms again, this time
assuming the shape of Iapetos, whose floor they had just passed. It
occurred to him that Thanatos or Kronos himself could be just behind
them. Gesturing toward the nymph, he sent her on ahead. He planned to
follow at a slight distance in case some problem developed.

Instead she ran back toward him. "I don't know the way," she whispered.
"Where are we going?"

Now Thanatos reached a point from which he could see them. He had
expected Kronos and Nalassa. Instead he found Iapetos and the nymph.
This unexpected sight made him hesitate before joining them.

"Pardon, my lord," he said, short of breath. "Where is Lord Kronos? I
thought he would be with the nymph."

Proteus, perfectly mimicking the manner of the Titan he impersonated,
turned to face him. "My brother is still above. I believe he's gone to
see Lady Rhea."

Puzzlement was evident on Thanatos's face. "But the nymph? How does she
come to be with you?"

Proteus, thinking quickly, answered, "Lord Kronos asked me to escort her
to supper. He is to join us as soon as he is free."

Thanatos looked from Iapetos to Nalassa and back again.

"Is there anything else?" Proteus asked.

Thanatos shook his head slowly, still deeply puzzled. "No, my lord.
Pardon me for detaining you." He turned and began climbing back toward
his own quarters.

Why would Kronos entrust the nymph to Iapetos? Iapetos was one of the
gods Kronos particularly wanted to keep in ignorance of Thanatos's
experiments. It would have been easier and less dangerous to leave the
nymph with Thanatos until after visiting Rhea.

Thanatos halted just out of sight. Something peculiar was going on, and
although he normally would have been completely uninterested in any such
mystery, this one concerned his prize experimental subject. He crept
back down the stairs after her, this time moving more slowly and being
very quiet.

As soon as Thanatos had passed from sight, Proteus began casting about
for another form to assume. They were now two floors above the chamber
of Momos, and the lower they descended, the more likely they were to
pass others on the stairs. It was risky to remain in the form of
Iapetos, whose wife or children might come face to face with them at any
moment. Above him, definitely, were Thanatos and Momos. Neither pleased
him as choices, but after a moment's consideration he took on the
rumpled appearance of the latter. They were, after all, making their way
toward that god's apartment.

Thanatos came down toward them, increasing his speed while remaining as
silent as possible. They had a single flight yet to descend when he got
close enough to see them. Now Nalassa seemed to be alone, with his fool
of a brother doddering downward eight or ten steps behind her.

Where was Iapetos? Why was the nymph alone? He rushed after her,
shouldering Momos to one side.

"What's going on?" he demanded, grabbing her by the wrist.

She struggled to pull free, but his grip was firm.

"Answer me. Where is Lord Iapetos? Why are you alone?"

She continued to struggle, but he grabbed her other wrist. She glanced
up the stairs and he followed her look, seeing only Momos.

"Answer me or--" He stopped short, looking back at Momos. What was he
doing here? Hadn't he passed him a few minutes before, on a higher
level? The words his brother had mumbled came back to him--something
about going downstairs twice, without first going back up.

Nalassa jerked her hands free and ran a short distance, but stopped to
look back up.

"H-how ..." Thanatos said, staring at the approaching god. "You were
up--"

Momos had now reached him, head bowed, lips constantly moving, shoulders
slumped.

"You can't be down here and up there. . . ." He shoved the rumpled
figure backward a step, and something fell from under his cloak.
Thanatos stared down in total befuddlement at the crab.

Suddenly sharp, clear eyes looked up at him from the wrinkled, puffy
face of Momos. Two plump hands reached out and took him by the shoulders
with incomprehensible strength. The hands shook him, lifted and then
flung him upward, to land in a crumpled heap a dozen steps above where
he had been.

"Run!" Proteus called to Nalassa. He recovered what he had dropped, then
followed her three steps at a time, still retaining the form of Momos
but propelling the paunchy body with all his natural strength. Taking
her hand, he pulled her along after him.

At first Thanatos was too stunned to stir. Another minute passed as he
tried to sort out what had happened. At last he regained his feet and
forced himself to try to follow them, but by now it was too late. They
were gone, and he turned to retrace his steps toward the uppermost level
of the palace, intent on turning the mystery over to Lord Kronos for a
solution.

Obviously it had not been his brother who had dealt with him so
effectively and efficiently. But who was it--who was it who looked so
much like Momos? Then he remembered Iapetos. Had it truly been Iapetos
accompanying the nymph, or . . .? The thoughts all came together at
once. Momos--the real Momos--must have been saying that he had seen
Thanatos twice on the stairs, just as Thanatos had seen Momos twice.
That was what his curious statement had meant. Kronos had taken the
nymph and led her away, but it must have been a false Kronos, someone
impersonating the King of the Gods. This same impostor had become
Thanatos when passing Momos, then Iapetos when Thanatos caught up with
him. . . .

Iapetos--he remembered his earlier, unexpected meeting with the Titan,
when he had entered Metis's room. Had that been the real Iapetos, or the
impostor? And why did everything keep coming back to Metis, the Okeanid?

Okeanid! Metis was an Okeanid, a daughter of Okeanos--a sister of the
most famous of shape changers. Even Thanatos had heard of him. Proteus,
the eldest son of Okeanos, was secretly here on Olympos--that was the
only possible answer.

The eldest and most powerful son of Kronos's most steadfast enemy!
Thantos had heard the King of the Gods rail against his brother time and
again. This was information his master would be anxious to know. He
forced himself to climb faster.

Kronos was not in his chambers. Thanatos searched for him, but did not
think to go up to the rooftop garden. Supper would have begun by now;
perhaps, he thought, the Lord of the Titans was already dining. Once
again he returned to the stairs.

By the time he reached the patio his legs were beginning to wobble from
fatigue. Stopping on the broad steps, he surveyed the assemblage. Kronos
might be seated anywhere on the wide, grassy terrace. Finally he spotted
Eurybie and staggered toward her. She was sitting alone.

"Is Lord Kronos here?" he asked, so short of breath that he had trouble
speaking.

She shook her head, chewing and swallowing while he awaited her answer.
"Not yet. He should be down soon. Why? Is something wrong?"

An attendant brought a chair, and Thanatos dropped into it. "I must
speak with him. Something has hap-- I have very important information
for him."

"Hmm. Sounds interesting." She deposited a final morsel in her mouth,
licked her fingers, and chewed with unabashed enjoyment.

He twisted around in his chair, craning his neck to look for Kronos.

Metis, who was serving her turn as an attendant, had seen him as he
entered. She began preparing a plate of food, ladling out a large
serving of sauce and carefully mixing something into it.

"Thalia," she called, waving to the Muse as she passed nearby. "I'm
running behind. Will you deliver this for me-- over there, to the thin
god with Eurybie."

"At once, dear child," Thalia said, taking the plate and carrying it to
the god Metis had indicated.

Thanatos barely noticed as she set it on the table by his side. He was
looking toward the portico, expecting Kronos to appear at any moment. He
glanced at the food, then began to pick at it absentmindedly, dipping
the meat into the sauce before each bite. He continued to watch for
Kronos.

"I've finished eating," Eurybie said, "and I don't have anyone
interesting to talk to. I think I'll go find Lord Kronos for you. Did
you look in his chambers?" Her curiosity had been aroused by the earlier
incident with Nalassa, and she hoped to at least partly satisfy it.
Acting as messenger might help achieve that goal.

Thanatos was too exhausted to object. "Yes, I suppose that's a good
idea. Please tell him where I am and--"

"And that you have very important information for him," she said
mockingly. "I shall." She glided across the lawn, up the stairs, and
into the palace.

He continued to wait, idly eating. His mind was racing, and he barely
tasted the food. At first the peculiar sensations were so slight that he
scarcely noticed them, but they soon became clearly unpleasant. He
rubbed his hand over his stomach, wondering if Eurybie had found Kronos
yet.

From across the patio Metis watched him, noting the sequence of his
reactions. She had spent almost two hours perfecting the herb, altering
it bit by bit until it exactly suited her requirements.

By now discomfort had become pain. He clutched his belly, bending far
forward. His head seemed to be spinning and he wanted to lie down. With
difficulty he rose to his feet. As he reached the portico, Kronos was
coming in his direction.

Kronos saw him too--and was displeased. Thanatos was supposed to be
guarding Nalassa. Why had he deserted his post?

"Lord Kronos!" Thanatos managed to call out, heading toward him. He was
intent upon telling his master what he had learned, but just as he
reached him, the pain in his stomach became even more extreme. Doubling
over, he began to vomit.

Kronos drew back in revulsion.

"Lord Kro--" His stomach heaved again.

Kronos stepped wide around him, disgust clearly evident on his face.

Eyes running and mouth drooling, Thanatos abandoned his attempt and once
again started toward his own quarters. Every few steps he stopped,
heaving uncontrollably.

Metis smiled and turned her attention back to her work.

Kronos sat at a table and bled to eat when his food was brought, but his
mind was on Nalassa. He had to know why Thanatos had left her.
Reluctantly he abandoned his meal and went back upstairs. The stairway
reeked with the evidence of the sick god's passage.

The nymph was gone. He found Thanatos, still dressed, lying in his bed.

"Where is she?" Kronos demanded. "You've let her escape a second time!"

Thanatos only moaned in answer, barely able to open his eyes.

Kronos started to reach for him, intent upon shaking him by the throat.
He reconsidered before touching him. As he backed from the room,
Thanatos gave out another low, gurgling moan and began to retch.

THIRTY

Proteus and Nalassa reached the chambers of Momos without further
difficulty. Small by comparison with the apartment of Iapetos, it was
nevertheless of fair size, with four major rooms in addition to the
large entrance hall and a number of small storage rooms.

"Greetings, Lord Proteus," Alalkomeneus cried as they entered one of the
rear chambers. The man stepped forward from amid a number of his fellows
and bowed stiffly. All around him the naked mortals scurried to hide
themselves or crept forward with wide, curious eyes, depending on their
individual temperaments.

"We have awaited your presence as the flower awaits the sun,"
Alalkomeneus continued, obviously pleased with his own eloquence.

"And we are pleased to be with you," Proteus answered. "Have the rest of
your people been behaving? Has anyone been here since Metis left?"

"We've seen no one, my lord Proteus, since the Goddess of the Dark Curls
departed. As to the men, I've had my hands full with them. None of them
understands very much, but as long as they are confined in this room,
little harm can befall them. Will Lady Metis, the Laughing Goddess of
Many Smiles, be returning soon?"

"I hope so," Proteus said distractedly.

Nalassa moved about the room, looking for a place to sit.

She avoided the chair occupied by the head of Oizys, which was propped
up by pillows, watching them. The mortals had settled all over the room;
she lifted one out of the way and sat down, immediately beginning to
tend to her appearance.

Proteus removed the crab from beneath his clothes and set it on the
floor, then brought a decanter from a nearby table and doused the
creature with nectar. For a long moment nothing happened, but then the
form of the crustacean blurred and began to enlarge. A moment later the
sea god Aigaion stood before them, tall, thin, and naked, his long hair
as wild as a bramble thicket. Proteus stepped quickly toward him to stop
him from falling.

"Sit, friend of my father," Proteus said, assisting him into a chair. He
brought a goblet, and the god gulped down the nectar, moaning softly and
rubbing his eyes. "You're free now, Aigaion, thanks to the concern of
Okeanos."

"Is that you, Proteus?" Aigaion asked weakly. "Yes, I see now that it is
you, Son of Okeanos. I have done a terrible thing, a despicable thing. I
let Kronos force me to tell evil lies about your father and my brother
Nereus. He beat me terribly, and I was too weak to resist him." His
hands trembled as Proteus refilled his goblet.

"I know. That doesn't matter. You did your best, and now you are free.
But how did Kronos trap you in such a manner?''

"He would not let me eat or sleep, even after I had said all he wanted
me to say. At last, when I could stand no more, I transformed myself
into the form in which you found me-- not to escape, which was
impossible, but to avoid the blows. I tried to scuttle away, but was too
slow. He threw me into some container and poured some substance over me,
so that I was frozen still and could not move at all."

Proteus nodded. "I suspected something like that. Rest now and gather
strength, while there is time." He turned to Nalassa. "I'm going to get
Philyra and Metis and bring them back here. The two of you should be
safe until I return."

Her smile and nod could not conceal that she did not want him to go.

The entrance to Ophion's tunnel lay near the floor. Proteus had pried
out its circular stone seal earlier in the day, when he and Metis had
agreed to make this room the center of their clandestine activities. Two
large amphorae stood in front of the entrance to conceal it from casual
view.

Metamorphosing himself, he flew through the tunnel to Metis's room. The
child goddess was not there, and Philyra was not in sight. Risking
discovery, he assumed the form of Iapetos to seek the older sister in
her room. He found her without difficulty and returned to his own form.

"We must talk," he told her, "all of us. We have little time. Where is
Metis?"

"She's downstairs, at supper."

"Good. Find her and let her lead you to Momos's quarters. We'll have to
chance your being seen. Be very careful."

He returned to Nalassa and Aigaion. Twenty minutes passed before they
heard the Okeanids entering the outer rooms of the apartment. When they
arrived, Alalkomeneus ran toward the child goddess with a cry of joy;
she swooped him up and amply returned his affection.

"No one saw you coming here?" Proteus demanded. "No one, particularly
Kronos or Thanatos?"

Metis grinned. "Thanatos certainly didn't see us, nor Kronos."

Proteus quickly told his sisters of the rescue of Aigaion and Nalassa
and how Thanatos had followed them. "Even if Thanatos didn't recognize
me," he concluded, "Kronos certainly will know whom to suspect. By this
time he knows I'm on Olympos, and that means none of us is safe."

"He doesn't know yet," Metis said quietly.

Everyone stared at her. "What do you mean?" Proteus asked. "Why are you
smiling?"

"Thanatos hasn't told anyone anything. I told you not to worry about
him, brother."

Proteus and Philyra exchanged glances. Philyra was smiling despite her
efforts to remain impassive. "Let her tell you," she said.

Metis explained how she had transmuted one of her plants, ground some of
it into fine powder, and added the powder to the god's meal. She
described in detail what she had seen of Thanatos's reaction to eating
it.

"Then he's too sick to talk?" Proteus asked.

The child nodded. "Too sick to do anything."

"Are you certain?"

"Almost certain. From the time he started to vomit, he shouldn't have
been able to put three words together. By now he's probably so weak he
can barely move. He's forgotten all about you."

Proteus looked at Philyra.

"She knows plants," Philyra said. "If that's what she says, I'd believe
her."

"How long will he stay that way?"

Metis shrugged. "A day or two. Maybe three."

Proteus laughed softly. "The daughters of Okeanos are not to be trifled
with! But our situation has not really changed. When Thanatos recovers,
Kronos will know everything, or guess it. Both of you will be in
danger."

"What if he doesn't recover?" Metis asked. "Then Kronos wouldn't be able
to link Nalassa to you or us. Besides, I'd like to keep Thanatos sick."

"You have a previously unsuspected malicious streak, little sister.
Could you do that?"

"I think so. I'd like to try. I could reach his apartment through
Ophion's tunnel and force more of my herb into him while he sleeps."

"Kronos will still be suspicious, now that Nalassa has disappeared. He
knows that peculiar things have been happening, and he'll make an effort
to discover what it's all about. Still, he might not learn that Aigaion
is missing, and if he doesn't learn that in time, his plot against
Okeanos and Nereus may be impaired."

Philyra leaned forward. "Impaired? If he has no witness, haven't we won?
Haven't you defeated him?"

Proteus shook his head. "You didn't see and hear Kronos as I did. This
won't stop him. At best it may weaken the support of his accomplices. I
fear we've won only a small victory today."

"Then what shall we do?" Philyra asked.

"I have to warn Lord Nereus, and Nalassa will need help escaping the
palace, since she can't fly. I'll take her to some safe place, then
continue on to the Kingdom of Nereus. If Metis can keep Thanatos from
talking to Kronos, then you both should be safe here."

"I can do it," Metis said. "Besides, there may be more to be learned. We
can work for our father here on Olympos."

Proteus looked skeptical. "Metis, you've seen what the King of the Gods
is capable of. Don't think for a moment that he'll spare you because
you're a child or Philyra because he finds her attractive."

"Brother," Philyra said, "none of us is safe as long as Lord Kronos
plots against our father. In times like these we must all face danger.
Metis and I must do all we can until you return."

"Bravely said. Will you promise to be careful? Should Kronos suspect
you, you must flee Olympos immediately. Come to the Kingdom of Nereus.
You'll be safe there until the wedding."

"Good," Philyra said. "It's settled. When do you leave?"

"Tonight, as soon as it's dark. Nothing can be gained by waiting longer,
and the danger to Aigaion and Nalassa can only increase."

"Where will you take me?" Nalassa asked.

"Where would you like to go?"

She hesitated, then answered without looking at him, "I've never seen
the Kingdom of Nereus."

"You may come with me, if you like. You'll probably be safer there --
for the present, anyway -- than with your family. What about you,
Aigaion?"

The sea god looked markedly better now. "Far, far away," he said. "As
soon as night falls I'll become a bird--the smallest, most inconspicuous
of birds -- and fly as far as my wings will carry me."

A short time later they all went out on the gallery. It was night now,
and the moon had not yet risen. Standing together, Nalassa and the
children of Okeanos watched as Aigaion assumed a tiny, dull gray form,
and flitted away into the darkness. As best they could tell, no one
followed him.

Philyra stepped forward and kissed her brother tenderly on the cheek.
"Perhaps someday you'll visit for more than a few hours," she told him.
"Be careful, brother."

Metis hugged him enthusiastically. He whispered in her ear, "Philyra is
very brave and will do her best, but your temperament better suits you
to this sort of adventure. You must try to be wise beyond your years."

Nalassa had been standing to one side. Now Proteus caused wings to grow
from his back and stepped toward her. He lifted her in his arms and
carried her toward the railing, his great wings stretched and beginning
to beat. The naiad closed her eyes and let her arms tighten around him
as they plunged out into the night. A few moments later, they too had
vanished.

Behind them, elsewhere in the palace, the King of the Gods crouched
beside an overturned chest. Salt lay scattered all around him upon the
floor.

Finally he rose and went to a neighboring rodm. From a cupboard he
withdrew a weapon, weighing it in his hand and testing its edge as he
carried it to a chamber lit by many lamps. Here for a long time he sat
and thought, brooding upon the many things that had happened.

The nymph, the mortals, Thanatos and Aigaion . . . There was a mystery
here--a mystery to be plumbed and an enemy to be crushed. He was angry,
but he was intrigued, too-- intrigued and invigorated. He sensed the
hand of an uncommon adversary, and a rare challenge to his unexcelled
strength and intelligence.

Holding the great curved sword forged for him by Iapetos, the Lord of
the Titans began to plan, cunning thoughts crowding the labyrinth of his
mind.