MASTER OF THE FEARFUL DEPTHS

PATRICK H. ADKINS

ACE BOOKS, NEW YORK

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

MASTER OF THE FEARFUL DEPTHS

An Ace Book / published by arrangement with the author

PRINTING HISTORY

Ace edition / July 1989

All rights reserved. Copyright (c)1989 by Patrick H. Adkins.

Cover art by John Jude Palencar.

This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part, by mimeograph or any other means, without permission.

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ISBN: 0-441-52106-1

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For Alisha, this second volume, too

One

As the powerful wings of the ocean god carried her down from Mount Olympos, Nalassa tried to drive from her mind all thought of the dangers they had so narrowly escaped. She had discovered the secret charnel room where the King of the Gods and Thanatos, his unclean servant, sought to probe the limits of mortality and immortality. Had Proteus not rescued her, she was certain she would be there now, among the decaying corpses and dismembered bodies.

Nestled in his strong arms, with her cheek pressed against his chest, the water nymph wanted to think only of the present and the god who held her. Instead she found herself glancing back again and again across Proteus’s broad shoulder. Behind them, dimly visible in the crisp starlight, the great palace of the Lord of the Titans grew small in the distance. Two or three times she thought she detected movements that might be indicative of pursuit, but she could not be certain.

Proteus flew close to the mountainside, hugging the jutting cliffs or dipping into deep gorges for concealment. The terrain became increasingly rugged as they followed a sinuous route that led both downward and toward the eastern sea. They skimmed over a frozen wasteland of snow, ice, and rock. At each dizzying dip or turn the naiad clutched Proteus still more tightly and tried to stifle the cries that leaped to her mouth. The icy wind buffeted her face and whipped her hair and clothing about her.

Soon ice and snow were replaced by dark forests that sprouted from the sheer slopes of the mountainside. The tossing treetops lapped beneath them like waves. They were flying almost horizontally, and now for the first time she saw the dark expanse of the sea. It lay directly ahead of them, reflecting pinpoints of starlight.

Proteus soared in toward the rocky shore, arching his wings at the last moment to slow their descent. He swung her down and she found herself running in the sand beside him before she fully realized they were no longer airborne. He folded his great wings and began to reabsorb them into his body as they ran out a short distance into the frothing waves. Hand-in-hand they dived headfirst into the dark waters.

Accustomed to the river ruled by her father and to its many shallow, racing tributaries, the sea seemed both familiar and strangely alien to the naiad. She filled her lungs with sea water and let him lead her downward through the almost total darkness.

Had he been alone, the son of Okeanos might have metamorphosed himself into a dolphin or assumed the tail and fins of a fish to facilitate his journey. Instead he swam leisurely, retaining his own form. Still Nalassa had difficulty keeping up with him. Countless ages had trained his muscles to traverse the silent depths with maximum speed and minimum effort.

Proteus paused regularly to allow the naiad to catch up, and he stopped occasionally so that she could rest. When they spoke, the watery element made their voices sound thick and oddly distant.

After they had been swimming for some minutes, Nalassa noticed ahead of them many dull points of light, like stars viewed through haze, that seemed gradually to be growing brighter. A few moments later thousands of tiny, silver-eyed fish cavorted about them, surrounding them in a cloud of luminescence. She realized that Proteus must have summoned these creatures up from far below to light their way. The luminous fish accompanied them as they swam, and on all sides, just beyond the faint blue of the water, the illumination ended in a wall of impenetrable blackness.

Now she followed a little behind him, watching the easy naturalness of his movements and admiring the perfect symmetry of his smooth, bronzed body. Tall, neither slender nor bulky, he glided effortlessly ahead of her just above the languidly waving growths of the sea-bottom plain, his sleek muscles rippling with each slightest movement. He belonged here, she realized, amid the magnificent solitude of these blue depths.

Coral-covered cairns of rock rose up around them like ghostly castles. An eel, startled at their approach, sought shelter within the crevices. A scarlet, spiked creature watched them from unblinking eyes as they swam past. A ray fish ventured into their path, then veered away with the sudden flapping of its winglike fins.

When sharks passed nearby within their circle of illumination, Proteus warned her to stay close to him. Usually these vicious predators extended to the gods the wide berth otherwise reserved only for the largest of whales, but their ravenous ferocity occasionally led them to attack even creatures of divine proportion. Despite their relatively small mortal size, they could inflict very painful injuries. They were capable of snipping off divine ringers or toes, and even more serious wounds could result when they hunted in packs.

The palace of Nereus lay in the deepest part of the Aegean, near the very bottom of a great sunken rift. As they approached this enormous valley the sea bottom dropped away suddenly. Proteus led her outward into the open water, well clear of the steep wall. With a single thoughtless kick the naiad might easily precipitate an underwater landslide and trap both of them beneath an avalanche of soft mud.

Downward they swam, through the vast and empty darkness, until they reached the rippled, yellow surface of the valley floor-a silent landscape pockmarked by the burrows of deep-sea creatures and spotted with waving thickets of spiney, red and orange growths that resembled finely serrated plants.

Occasionally fan-shaped coral drifted past, reflecting red in the phosphorescent light. Three sharks came upon them suddenly-ugly white creatures with broad, flat heads and glistening, bulbous white eyes. Finding themselves caught in the periphery of illumination, they backed away in startled confusion, then sought escape in the surrounding blackness.

At last the palace of Nereus came into sight, glowing in the distance, wreathed in phosphorescence. It rose from the sea bottom like a scarlet mountain, its thick walls and high towers reaching high above the surrounding hills and bluffs.

As they drew near, piscine sentinels sensed their presence and swam to meet them; other fish carried word of their arrival to the palace. An honor guard of stately silver ray fish glided out to circle and escort them toward the main entrance, leaving them only as Proteus and Nalassa swam through an enormous portal and into a wide corridor.

The palace, which the sea god Nereus had commanded to grow upon this spot, was formed completely of coral. Ugly, coral-eating fish patrolled its corridors, grazing on walls, floor, and ceiling to keep them properly trimmed.

As they swam they were joined by an ever-increasing number of golden-haired nymphs, the daughters of King Nereus and Queen Doris. By the time they reached the great hall more than a dozen Nereids encircled them. The goddesses laughed and chatted excitedly, their long hair and beautiful gowns, woven of many-colored sea growths, fluttering around them in the water.

Now Nalassa found herself in an enormous, high-ceilinged chamber. Walls of blue coral surrounded them and small fish scuttled out of their way. Millions of phosphorescent creatures, microscopic in size, had imbedded themselves to the high walls and ceiling of the room; each produced only a dim illumination by itself, but collectively they flooded the chamber in a soft blue-white light. The walls of the great room were lined with benches and tables, and nearby rose a high platform surmounted by two polished thrones of gleaming black coral.

A dark-haired goddess was swimming toward them, smiling warmly as she drew near. Behind her at a short distance followed a golden-haired god. Proteus and Nalassa slowed to a stop, floating side by side and moving their arms and legs only as much as necessary to maintain their positions.

“Greetings, Queen Doris,” Proteus said as the goddess slowed her rapid progress with a few reverse strokes of her hands.

She laughed, threw her arms about his neck, and kissed him. “Proteus, will you never abandon your senseless formality when you speak to me? I’m still your sister, even if you seldom visit me.”

“And the mother of the world’s most beautiful goddesses,” he said, nodding toward the watching Nereids who were gathering at a discrete distance.

Nereus, the golden-haired god, had now joined his wife. A little plump and below medium height, he carried himself with a regal bearing nonetheless. “I see your vision and judgment remain as sharp as ever,” he said jovially. “Welcome, Proteus! I observe that the outside world does not lack beauty either. Who is your lovely companion?”

“This is Nalassa, the daughter of the river god Asopos.”

Doris turned toward her daughters. “Go now, children, that we may talk. There’ll be time later for each of you to greet our guests.” Reluctantly the Nereids left the great hall, and Doris turned back to her brother. “It’s been far too long since we’ve seen you. Why, most of my daughters didn’t even recognize you. …”

Nereus interrupted her. “No recriminations, Doris. He’ll stay away even longer next time if you scold him. Now, Proteus, shall we talk first, or would you rather wait until you’ve rested? Are you hungry? Have you eaten?”

“A long conversation is in order,” Proteus said.

Two others, a god and goddess, had entered the hall and seemed uncertain if they should approach more closely. Nereus glanced toward them, then gestured to them to come forward. “Here are my brother and sister, Lord Phorkys and his wife, Lady Keto,” he told Nalassa. The two gods joined them. Both had the golden blond hair of Nereus and his daughters, and both displayed obvious curiosity about the two visitors.

After the cordialities had been satisfied, Nereus said, “Come, then, Proteus. You’ve traveled far and we have much to say to each other. I’m sure everyone will excuse us.”

He clapped the ocean god on the shoulder and led him across the broad hall toward a number of coral benches, the surfaces of which were kept smooth by the coral-eating fish that seemed to be everywhere about the palace. Nudging one of these aside, Proteus and Nereus sat side by side.

“Would you care to see your apartment now?” Doris asked Nalassa.

Nalassa hesitated, glancing toward Proteus. “If you don’t mind, I think I’d rather wait here for a while yet.”

Doris nodded. “Certainly, though I must warn you that they may talk for quite some time. My husband does not despise conversation.”

Nalassa smiled back at her hostess. The others had all moved away now, so that the nymph and the queen were alone on one side of the great hall. From across the chamber Nereus signaled to his wife to join him and Proteus. The two gods had risen from their bench and were swimming toward the portal of an adjoining room.

Doris looked her embarrassment and began to glance about, intending to summon one of her daughters to keep the naiad company while she accompanied Nereus and Proteus.

Nalassa forestalled any such action. “Please go right on,” she said softly. “I won’t at all mind being left to myself-if you don’t mind. Your palace is so lovely and different. You have the beauty of nature here, and I’ll relish the opportunity to study it.”

Doris started to object, but changed her mind when Nereus signaled to her again, this time from the entrance of the room to which he was leading Proteus. “If you need anything-anything at all, my dear-you need only call one of my daughters. …” She squeezed Nalassa’s hand, then swam quickly to join her husband and brother. The three disappeared into a doorway and a great double curtain of shells swung closed behind them.

Nalassa sighed. She was glad that she had come here with Proteus; the beauty of the undersea palace at least partially compensated for how terribly neglected she was feeling. For a number of minutes she floated in the gentle current that ran across the great hall, from one high-vaulted entrance to another; she let her thoughts float and sway, too.

“You must not want him very badly,” a small voice said from behind her.

She turned to find a divine child, little older than a toddler, riding toward her atop a giant turtle. The turtle was moving slowly across the hall, skimming along just above the floor; the goddess on its back, though very young, was nearly as large as the thirty-foot-long reptile. She tapped lightly against the beast’s shell and it slowed to a stop. Long strands of golden hair settled around her face. Coy eyes, hinting of laughter, gleamed up at Nalassa.

“What did you say?” the naiad asked.

“I said that you must not want him very badly. If you really wanted him, you would work to win him.”

The odd words, spoken by so young a goddess, both puzzled and flustered Nalassa. She wondered if her state of mind was so obvious that everyone could recognize it, even children.

“You’re very silly,” the child continued, her speech oddly languorous. “Of course you’re in love with him. But you don’t want to admit it, even to yourself. You must know your own mind.”

The child glanced across the hall toward the room into which Proteus had disappeared. “He’ll be difficult to win, but you can do it,” she continued. “No, don’t worry. If you really want him, I’ll help you.”

“What are you talking about?” Nalassa asked, pretending that the things the child said were meaningless to her.

“I’m talking about love, you foolish nymph. Your face betrays your heart. You’re in love with him, but he doesn’t love you-yet.”

Nalassa glanced quickly around the huge chamber. No one was near them. The hall was empty except for Phorkys and Keto, who were talking quietly just inside the entrance to one of the many adjoining corridors.

Nalassa stared at the child. There was an aura of indolence about her, and of sensuality, particularly in her slow, languid gestures and pouting lips.

“Of course you’re in love with him,” the child continued, laughing. “You needn’t pretend with me. You can hide it from yourself and from some of the others, but not from me. I know about these things. I can make him love you if-“

Now it was Nalassa who laughed, partly out of nervousness but also because she had become suddenly aware of the absurdity of her conversation with this goddess who was little more than an infant.

The child frowned. She was still astride her turtle. “You may doubt me,” she said very seriously. “I will allow that. After all, you don’t know me. But don’t laugh at what I say. I, who cherish laughter and merriment, also love retribution. Yes, I can make him love you, if I so choose. I can fill him with love until he overflows, until-“

“And how would you do this?”

The child looked again in the direction of the room in which Proteus was meeting with Nereus and Doris, then back at the nymph. She shook her head, making her long, golden hair wave in the water. “First you must decide. Then …”

“Pardon,” a voice interrupted. A dark-haired goddess swam up to them. “I am looking for Lord Proteus. Are you the nymph who arrived with him?”

Nalassa nodded.

“Where is he? I am Dione, his sister. I wish to greet him.”

“He’s over there, mother,” the child said, pointing across the hall.

“Another of Proteus’s sisters!” Nalassa exclaimed. “The children of Okeanos are indeed numerous and widespread. He’s meeting with King Nereus and Queen Doris and probably won’t be free for some time yet,” she explained. “This is your daughter? I’ve been talking with her. She’s … a most interesting child. …”

The goddess grinned. “Indeed she is! I’m not really her mother, however, though she insists on calling me that. I found her some years ago, floating in the sea in a pocket of foam. For that reason we call her Aphrodite.” The word meant foam-born. “Nereus and Doris have grown quite fond of her, as have I. Do you know, she hasn’t grown a bit since the day I found her. Pay no attention to what she says, though. She says the most astounding things.”

The Okeanid Dione frowned, then continued, “I don’t guess I’ll wait. Please tell him that I’m looking for him, and not to dare leave without seeing me.”

Nalassa agreed to deliver the message.

Dione excused herself. “What about you, Aphrodite? Are you coming back with me, or staying here?”

“I’ll come, mother,” the child answered. She tapped the turtle and it began to turn in a circle, moving in the direction from which they had originally come. “Remember what I said,” the child told Nalassa. “All depends on you.” She followed her foster mother away.

Perplexed, Nalassa swam the short distance to a bench and sat down to wait. She noticed that Phorkys and Keto were still near one of the entrances to the hall and that they were watching her. As she looked at them, the god and goddess retreated out of sight down the corridor.

Two

Behind the closed curtains of shells, Proteus and his sister sat side by side on a low bench. Nereus had drawn up a small stool and was sitting close in front of them.

“Oh, why can’t he leave us in peace?” Doris demanded. “This is a tiny realm. There are other seas, even the great sea itself. Anyone who likes may fashion his own domain in one of them. …”

“The real surprise,” Nereus said, addressing his visitor, “is that Kronos has waited this long to act. His hatred isn’t new. We’ve been aware of it for a very long time.”

“But why does he hate us so?” Doris asked. “What have we done that he should be so intent upon our destruction?”

Nereus shook his head sadly. “Part of it, I suppose, is that he wants us to acknowledge him as our king and-“

“But we do!” Doris interrupted. “We always have!”

“Not as thoroughly as he wishes, my dear.” Nereus leaned forward, took his wife’s hand, and squeezed it gently. “We live far from Olympos. We don’t bow to him daily. We aren’t in his debt for every good thing that surrounds us. All that we have, we’ve earned for ourselves. We owe him nothing. That’s what he resents. He finds that intolerable.”

As he looked back and forth between his sister and her husband, an odd sensation crept over Proteus. He pressed his eyes shut and held them closed for a few moments. There was a terrible familiarity in Nereus’s words, and for an instant Proteus was overwhelmed by the impression that he had seen and heard all this before-that he was only reenacting events that had already taken place long ago.

After a moment he looked up again, once more in control of himself.

“It’s fitting, I suppose,” Doris was saying. “To most of us the wedding of a brother or sister is a joyous occasion.” She smiled bitterly. “But to the King of the Gods, it’s merely an opportunity for treachery!”

“Poor Eurybie,” Nereus said quietly. “It saddens me to think that our misfortune will taint her wedding day. She and Crios deserve better-much better!”

“I’m afraid you don’t fully understand the situation yet,” Proteus said. “Shed no tears for them. They both conspire against you with Kronos. Among other things, this marriage is a pretext for placing Crios on your throne. Once you’ve been deposed, your sister will reign as queen here, with Kronos’s brother at her side.”

Deep sadness touched Nereus’s features. “Are you certain of this, Proteus? Eurybie plots against us, too?”

The son of Okeanos nodded. “She’s as deeply involved as Kronos, and will profit handsomely, Kronos has planned carefully, and, I suspect, for a very long time. He’ll claim that you conspire against him and that you seek to overthrow him as King of the Gods.”

“But that’s preposterous!” Doris exclaimed. “Who’ll believe such nonsense? We, of all the gods, have no reason to plot against Kronos. Such a claim is beyond belief.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Proteus continued. “The wedding of Crios and Eurybie offers entry to your palace for both Kronos and his followers. When he accuses you, he’ll have the support not only of the Titans he’s already enlisted-Iapetos, Koios, and Crios-but of all the lesser gods as well. He’s their king. They know him little but revere him much, and they’ll believe whatever he tells them. They’ll follow him without hesitation.”

Proteus paused for a moment, then concluded, “And when he strikes against you, he’ll strike also against my father.”

“Of course,” Nereus said sadly. “That only makes sense. He’s long begrudged Okeanos his independence. He hopes to be rid of us both with a single stroke-while we’re most unsuspecting. ”

A small squid drifted between them, then flitted suddenly away. Doris let her gaze wander from Proteus to look around the simple, unadorned room in which they sat. The soft beauty of the coral chamber seemed to increase her sadness.

What will become of us?” she asked her brother.

“Tartaros.”

“They say the air is dank and loathsome there,” she said thoughtfully, “that nothing can grow in its fetid atmosphere. They say it’s better to die the death of a mortal animal than to live-a deathless god-entombed forever in darkness and decay.” She looked up at Proteus. “Does Kronos think all this is still unknown to us? If he knew we were forewarned, might he not be deterred?”

Proteus shook his head. “While on Olympos, I had the opportunity to observe him in conference with his fellow conspirators. Don’t deceive yourselves. I saw his face and heard his voice as he spoke to them. He’s determined to rid himself of you, Nereus, and of my father. Nothing will dissuade him. He will destroy you both, or destroy himself in the attempt. As it is, we have the advantage of knowing when he plans to attack-and that may well be our only advantage. If he became aware of our knowledge, he might delay and shift his plan to some other day, and then the advantage would be his again.”

For more than a full minute none of them spoke.

Finally Proteus continued, “There is something more I must tell you. I know, Nereus, that you never intentionally look into the future, that you prophesy only under duress….”

“We are so alike, Proteus, brother of my beloved wife,” Nereus said. “Of all the gods, you, who share my ‘gift,’ know what a burden it is, and its limitations. Whatever chance now clouds your vision is a blessing. I wish I, too, could remember nothing of the things I foresee.”

“My visions are hidden from me, it is true, but not from those around me,” Proteus explained. “At such times I fall unconscious and am oblivious to the words that pour from my mouth. This happened last three days ago. Nalassa, the nymph who accompanied me here, was with me and later told me the things I said. I mention this only because I believe it must pertain to what we’ve been discussing.”

Nereus started to object, but his wife interrupted him. “Let him speak. This is a time when it would be well to glimpse the future.”

“These are the words I spoke while my body seethed in continual metamorphosis: ‘Change follows change when god devours god. Titan against Titan, god against god… power unleashed, force undreamt….”

“Oh, brother,” Doris cried softly, “it sounds as though our worst fears are destined to be realized!”

“There is more: ‘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,” Doris said, “why, that’s a shape favored by your father. And the eagle certainly must be Kronos. Does this mean that both will fail?”

“Enough, Proteus,” Nereus interrupted. “One might just as well judge a melon by a single thin slice as the future by such words. The slice could be the only bad part, or the only good. None can truly know what is to be. It’s a vain, useless pursuit. …”

Doris leaned toward her husband and laid a hand upon his arm, looking at him with affection and sympathy. “Such visions always trouble him. Proteus is right, though, my dear. This is something we must know. Let him go on….”

“No, Doris, let me speak,” Nereus insisted. “Brother-for you are my brother, so close is my wife to me-the future is a shifting, shapeless thing, impossible to grasp and hold. It depends in part upon what we do today. Today we shape tomorrow. Each act of the present has its consequences. It’s folly to heed such words as you have recited.”

Proteus shrugged. “I’ve told you this because I thought it might hold some meaning for you.”

Nereus settled back on his stool now that he had said all he cared to say. Doris turned back toward Proteus.

“Whatever those words may mean,” she said, “tell me this, brother-what can we do?”

“There are really only two courses of action, and neither is acceptable. Nereus and my father could avoid Kronos simply by failing to be present at the wedding, but then the confrontation would only be postponed. Kronos would seek out a new opportunity. Or we could prepare to meet him when the time comes-perhaps even strike first against him.”

Nereus shook his head vigorously. “I won’t arm my daughters with tridents. If we resist Kronos, terrible violence will ensue. Neither of us need peer into the future to know that. I won’t be responsible for that result.”

“But what will you do, then?” Proteus demanded. “Certainly you won’t surrender to him.”

“If Kronos attempts to capture me, I’ll try to elude him-but I shall not fight him and I shall not hide from him.”

For what seemed like a long time they were silent. Finally Proteus said, “Nereus, I came here to warn you and to seek your help. It isn’t only you and Doris who stand in the balance….”

“No,” Nereus said insistently. “My decision is firm. Such violence can only beget an ever-widening circle of still more violence. I will not be a party to it. If such things must happen, they must happen without my assistance.”

“Listen to me,” the ocean god continued, leaning forward as he spoke. “Your restraint will avert nothing. My father has already been warned. He knows what Kronos plans. If a single spear is lifted against him or against any member of my family, this palace of yours will tremble to its foundations. We can oppose Kronos-easily. If he chooses, my father can summon a thousand of his sons from the far corners of the earth.”

“Would Okeanos do that?” Nereus asked.

Proteus shrugged almost imperceptibly. “I don’t know. I do know he won’t willingly surrender to Kronos. But I didn’t come here, Nereus, to advise you to arm for battle. This problem is deeper and more terrible than that. I fear that no matter what course of action we choose, the result will be disasterous.

“It isn’t only you and Doris, or Okeanos and Tethys, who are at stake,” Proteus continued. “It’s all of us. Once this battle has begun, it won’t stop here in your throne room, whoever is victorious. Some of my brothers, hotheaded and anxious for sport, will seek out those who support Kronos and deal with them individually-or Kronos’s supporters will do the same. From one end of the earth to the other, the gods will fight one another. And this pleasant way of life we’ve learned to enjoy will crumble about us.”

He was staring into the other god’s eyes. “Nereus, we’re old enough to remember how things were before Kronos imposed his rule upon the world-the ignorance and savagery that held sway. Unless we can somehow persuade Kronos to abandon his plan, those days will surely return. All that’s been built will be shattered, and only ruins will remain.”

Nereus was nodding his head. “What you say is true. But what do you want from us? There’s nothing Doris or I can do that will affect that outcome.”

For a few moments Proteus sat with his eyes cast down. Finally he said, “I fear you may be right. I suppose I hoped you might offer some idea that had escaped me.”

Doris took her brother’s hand. “We’ll try to help, brother, even if my husband thinks it impossible.”

“This topic has saddened and tired me,” Nereus said. “It is late. We can talk more tomorrow.”

When they returned to the great hall Nalassa looked up from her reveries as they swam toward her.

“Come, both of you,” Queen Doris said, her voice surprisingly pleasant after the distressing conversation in which she had been a participant. “I must find suitable quarters for our honored guests.”

Nalassa and Proteus were led through a number of passageways until they reached the apartments Doris intended for them, which were located near each other on opposite sides of a corridor. When finally they were left alone Nalassa rejoined Proteus in his room.

She found him upon a coral bench, deep in thought.

“You look troubled,” she said.

“I was thinking about Metis and Philyra. I should have insisted they come with us.”

“They wanted to stay on Olympos,” Nalassa said. “Besides, I think you underestimate them.”

“Perhaps. But they’re in great danger.” He sounded tired.

She settled near him on the floor, crossing her slender legs beneath her. “What will we do now?” she asked. “Will you remain here, or will you return to Olympos?”

“I’ll stay a day or two more, I suppose. I want to talk more with Nereus and Doris. …”

Nalassa remembered the message she was supposed to deliver. “Oh, my lord, I forgot until just now. Your sister Dione is here and is anxious to greet you.”

“Dione,” he mused, smiling slightly. “I’d better see her, or she’ll be offended.”

Proteus and Nalassa left the apartment together. He parted from her just outside the door to her room. Lost in her own thoughts, Nalassa lingered in the corridor for two or three minutes, floating and swaying in the almost imperceptible current. Eventually she became aware that she was not alone. Turning, she found herself looking into the face of the golden-haired child.

“You’ll never win him the way you’re going about it,” Aphrodite said.

The child was still seated upon the back of her giant turtle. “Just what should I be doing?” Nalassa demanded, petulant.

“Let’s go to your room. I’ll tell you there. You’ve much to learn, but I’ll teach you.”

Three

Nalassa pushed open the door to her apartment and swam inside. The golden-haired child, abandoning her turtle, swam in after her. The naiad closed the door, then swirled around gracefully in the water so that she could face her companion.

The child settled atop a high divan of coral, which had been newly draped with a thick mattress of seaweed. Lying languidly upon it, she appraised Nalassa from head to toe.

“You aren’t bad, actually,” Aphrodite said thoughtfully as she continued to scrutinize her. “You have a great deal of natural beauty in your face, and even though your hair is rather plain in color, it’s quite rich and full. You’re too slender, of course-I’ve always thought a goddess looks best when she’s full-figured-but no god would cast you aside for that. Take off your clothes.”

Nalassa laughed. “I’ll do no such thing,” she exclaimed. “Why should I? Who are you? You talk so oddly-especially for someone so young.”

“If you wish me to help you win the heart of Proteus, you must do as I command. I must know what you have to offer-what we have to work with-if I’m to judge the difficulty that lies before us. As to my age-I’m far older than I look, far older than you, if the truth be known. I know many things-and even I don’t always know just how I come to know them.”

Nalassa was floating upright just in front of the child, her feet barely touching the floor of the chamber. She laughed again, beginning to feel very foolish and quite uneasy. Who was this precocious creature whose every glance and gesture were laden with coy flirtation, whose slightest movements bespoke profound sensuality?

“Well? Do you wish my help?” the child demanded in her melodic, bubbly voice.

Nalassa started to obey, then changed her mind. Her laughter had turned to a nervous tittering. She loosened the catch on her peplos, then refastened it.

The child seemed amused at the naiad’s obvious embarrassment. Nevertheless, she continued to insist.

At last, despite her misgivings, Nalassa loosened the catch and unwound her peplos, letting the garment float slowly away and toward the green coral floor.

“It’s as I feared,” the child said slowly, signaling the nymph to turn around so that she could observe all of her. “Your breasts are too small-nicely shaped in their perky way, but still too small. On the other hand your waist is narrow and your hips flare charmingly. They aren’t really very wide; your narrow waist only makes them seem that way. To some gods the hips are more significant than the breasts, anyway. Turn again, more slowly this time.”

Feeling terribly awkward and self-conscious, Nalassa did as she was directed, her long brown hair swirling after her in the water.

“Yes, yes,” the child continued. “Not nearly as bad as I feared. Even if you were ugly, I could still make him love you. Desire can blind the sharpest eye and cloud the clearest brain. If I wished, I could make him crave you with all the zeal of a starving hyena scrambling for food. Sometime, when I’m in the mood, I’ll prove that.”

She waved a hand toward the nymph. “But you-you should be able to win almost any god with your natural endowments. You shouldn’t need my help at all, except that you’ve chosen for yourself a peculiar sort of god. I could tell that from the glimpse I had of him. His heart is shielded. But don’t despair. If he carries such a shield, it must protect a vulnerable spot. Once we’ve nudged it aside, love’s dagger may easily pierce his heart.”

Aphrodite laughed gaily. “Has he seen all of you yet?” she asked unexpectedly. “Or have you kept him in suspense?”

Nalassa blushed but did not answer.

“Too bad. I suppose, then, that you’ve also …”

Nalassa’s wide eyes darted away from those of the child.

“Foolish creature! Don’t you know that the male’s greatest weakness is his imagination? He would have clothed you in a radiance you could never manage by yourself. You should have given him a glimpse of your shoulder, pretending that your peplos slipped down of its own accord; or rewarded him with a peek at your bare ankle or calf. You should have teased him mercilessly. You should have encouraged and discouraged him by turns, teasing and tantalizing, but always drawing back.”

Nalassa was frowning. “Oh, I’m not like that. Besides, he isn’t interested in me at all.”

“I don’t doubt it. You’ve made quite a mess of things so far. Your education seems to have been sorely neglected. Perhaps we should start with the basics, to be sure you know them. You can still succeed.”

Nalassa was hugging her arms across her bare breasts. As the child continued talking, the nymph recovered her clothing and began to drap it around herself.

“At least you know how to care for your body and cultivate its natural beauty? How to arrange your clothing and hair to best display your charms… ? On land, I mean; it’s difficult to tend to such things down here. A hint of chance adds immeasurably-a curl out of place, for instance. You must always adorn yourself lightly; too much jewelry or makeup wouldn’t flatter you. Of course you must remember not to laugh too loudly. It’s far more effective to giggle or titter. Never bray or guffaw, and when you smile-you should smile a thousand smiles for each time you laugh-show your teeth proudly, for you have admirable teeth. Be careful of your posture, and make a point of always moving as though you are being watched.”

The child paused a moment, then said, “All of that you should have been taught by your mother. She should have taught you, too, the primary rule of love. Do you know it?”

Wide-eyed, Nalassa shook her head. “No. At least I don’t think so.”

“This is the primary rule of love-never believe what he tells you

The naiad stared at her. “Why not?”

“Because he will always lie to you. Even when he means to tell the truth. Even when he thinks he is telling the truth. Male and female-they see truth differently. All their communications are lies of one sort or another. Protect yourself from them as best you can, for you will invariably be deceived, however vigilant. If you expect the truth from him, you will only be the more thoroughly deceived.”

Nalassa had temporarily forgotten that a child was lecturing her. She wanted to laugh aloud at the preposterousness of the situation; instead she found herself absorbed in the unexpected things Aphrodite was saying. The child’s face seemed to shine, and her childish voice seemed always on the verge of laughter.

“In this battle of male and female,” she continued, “your most potent weapon is delay. He will seek to influence you by creating a yearning emptiness within you, by making your insides ache for him, so that your heart begins to flutter at the sound of his approaching steps or the first note of greeting that issues from his mouth. Delay, or you’re lost! Nothing so inflames the male principle as unfulfilled desire. Tease with your eyes, glancing away shyly whenever he turns toward you-“

“I do that already, without even trying,” Nalassa said.

“All things become habitual when practiced often enough. Drive him mad with glimpses and laughter and soft words. Never say yes. Never say no. Always say maybe. And whenever possible, say it without words.”

The naiad had begun to fret. “I’m not like that,” she protested. “I detest such trickery and guile.”

Aphrodite drew back, her smile extinguished. For an instant her eyes gleamed with anger, but only for an instant. Almost immediately the goddess’s normal manner returned. “What a child you are! You want love, but don’t want to work for it. How else do you expect to acquire the love you desire, other than by the things you call trickery and guile? Do you think any god would willingly bind himself to a goddess, however wonderful she might be, without first being driven completely and hopelessly mad?” Laughter like the tinkling of glass filled the room.

“Don’t be so foolish,” she continued. “You already do most of these things, even if you don’t realize that you do. Think how much more successful you’d be if you really tried!”

Nalassa shook her head sadly. “I’m afraid it’s useless. I could never manage all of that. And Proteus probably wouldn’t even notice if I did.”

The child lapsed into silence, pouting. “All right,” she said at last. “You’re a stubborn creature, though there is some truth to your argument, I must admit. Proteus is more immune to love than most. It would be very difficult for you to win him by yourself.”

She paused again, scrutinizing the naiad. “I said I would help you, and I shall - even if you aren’t willing to exert yourself. I shall make him fall in love with you. Come here.”

Nalassa only stared at her.

“I’m determined. You shall have your god. Obey me, Nalassa. Come here.”

Hesitantly Nalassa drew closer. When she stood directly in front of Aphrodite, the child reached up and drew her face downward. The child kissed the naiad directly upon the lips.

“Now go. Go to the one you love and give him the kiss I have just given you. Give it to him, then return here.”

Nalassa backed awkwardly away.

“Remember, don’t linger. Come immediately back here.”

Against her better judgment Nalassa left the apartment, her arms and legs propelling her through the water at a steadily increasing rate as her curiosity and determination increased. She began to feel foolish as she reached Proteus ‘s room. She entered anyway, realizing only then that Proteus would probably still be visiting his sister Dione.

He was not. He had returned and lay soundly asleep on a padded divan in one of the rear rooms of his apartment. She hovered silently above him, feeling very foolish as she looked down at his handsome face, very foolish and-very much in love.

She kissed him quickly; then, tearing her lips from his, she swam rapidly toward the door.

Proteus was already stirring. “Nalassa?” he called as he sat up. The fleeing figure paused for an instant near the doo way, turning to smile at him. Then she was gone.

For some minutes after Nalassa’s unexpected visit, Protei remained in a sitting position, vacantly looking in the dire tion in which she had departed.

Less than three days had elapsed since she had sprinted across his path in the moonlight. She had followed him Olympos and become enmeshed in great danger there, so t he had been forced to carry her away with him when he the palace of the King of the Gods. During all that time had given her little thought. His mind had been occupied with the mission entrusted to him by his father and with all that he had discovered on Mount Olympos.

She was, after all, merely another nymph-more attractive than some, less than others. On a different occasion, under different circumstances, he would gladly have lingered with her among the hills and brooks of her native land. He had tried to treat her tenderly and kindly. For that reason alone he would have left her within a day or two, before she could become too attached to him. He had no desire to hurt her.

There was a pleasant freshness about her that he found appealing, but his feelings went no deeper than that. Had he not been so preoccupied, he would have made a point of giving her the little attentions that females found so important-not to endear himself to her, but to reassure her that he did, indeed, appreciate her charms. As it was, necessity had forced him to forgo such courtesies.

Reclining on the divan, he tried to sleep once more. Instead he kept thinking of the parting smile she had given him. Sleep refused to come, and he tried to concentrate on Kronos and the problem he needed to keep uppermost in his mind. Instead he found himself remembering the delicate, feminine gestures of the nymph, the way her clothing fluttered around her as she swam.

Finally he made up his mind to seek her out. He swam into the corridor and down to the entrance to her apartment. There he hesitated. By now she was probably asleep. He started to return to his own room, but changed his mind and instead tapped lightly at her door. When there was no response, he tapped again, then pushed gently against the barrier. It was bolted upon the inside. Turning, he swam back to his room.

The night passed very slowly for Proteus. In the morning a Nereid came to call him to breakfast. He went to Nalassa’s chambers, intending to accompany her to the great hall where the meal was to be served. The naiad’s apartment was empty. Oddly disappointed, he went on without her.

To his surprise he found her already seated at one of the long tables. A number of the daughters of Nereus surrounded her and they were all carrying on an animated discussion.

The Nereid who was serving as his guide led him to a table some distance from her. He ate slowly, barely tasting the lush tubers and odd growths cultivated by the children of Nereus and their piscine servants. Lovely, tittering goddesses sat all around him, addressing him almost continually with questions and quips. He barely heard them. His eyes, as if by a will of their own, kept seeking out Nalassa’s slender form. Occasionally she glanced in his direction, but always for only the briefest moment. He kept trying to catch her gaze, and kept failing.

As though he were seeing her for the first time, he noticed the depth of her wide brown eyes. The lavish fullness of her hair-even here, below the sea, where it drifted carelessly about her, curling and lashing with each slightest movement of her head-triggered peculiar sensations within him. He became increasingly fascinated by the way her lively eyes darted about her little group, from speaker to speaker, sparkling with interest and amusement.

Her delicate, long-fingered hand carried food to her beautifully shaped mouth. Why didn’t she look in his direction? He kept expecting her to notice him suddenly, to give him one of her flashing smiles.

When the meal was at last completed-it seemed interminable-he edged his way through the crowd of friendly, talkative Nereids toward Nalassa’s table.

“Oh, there you are,” she said as he reached her at last. “What a marvelous place you’ve brought me to! The food was very good, don’t you think? Glauke has offered to lead me about the palace, and out to see the gardens that surround it.”

The Nereid at her side inclined her head in a slight, respectful bow. “Does my lord wish to come too? There is much to see.”

Proteus did his best to smile pleasantly as he agreed to accompany them. He had seen the palace and gardens more than once in the past and had no interest in seeing either again, however changed they might be; nevertheless he found himself swimming with them, finding pleasure in Nalassa’s nearness-and annoyance in the presence of the beautiful Nereid. Occasionally Nalassa tossed him a morsel of gratuitous affectiona look, a gesture, a smile-and he snapped it up like a ravenous beast. When his body accidentally brushed against hers, electric sparks shot through him.

The coral palace had been erected upon a high hill that was honeycombed with caves and caverns, many of which still served as dwelling places for the numerous daughters of Nereus. Glauke insisted upon beginning her tour here and did not relent until she had taken her guests all the way to the topmost turret of the structure. At every turn eels or rays or coral-eating fish scuttled out of their path.

Glauke summoned phosphorescent fish to light their way, then led them out of the palace and down a long, sloping hill. Here lay the gardens cultivated by the Nereids. They swam amid rows of festooning vines and lush white melons. Ugly blind fish, both large and small, patrolled the area to protect the garden from all that would plunder it.

Eventually the tour was completed. They returned to the palace and Proteus invited Nalassa to join him in his chambers.

“Oh, I think not,” she said as they reached the corridor that led to their apartments. She yawned beautifully, her slender hand not quite covering her lovely mouth. “It’s been an exhausting morning. I think I’ll take a nap, so that I can be fresh this afternoon.”

A few moments later she was gone, and soon he found himself alone, moving restlessly about his room. He threw himself down on the divan, only to rise again and move aimlessly about the small chamber.

At last he swam out into the corridor and down to the entrance to her apartment. Her door was unlocked now, and he pushed it open and entered.

She was sitting upright in her bed, arms clutching rumpled clothing in front of an otherwise bare body. “Yes, my lord?” she asked, eyes very wide and alluring. “You wish to see me?”

He did not know what to say. For an instant he considered retreating to his own room.

“You wish to speak with me, my lord?”

He forced himself to edge closer, at last reaching her side. Somehow he found words and they sat together for a long time, talking quietly. Nalassa tried to remember the instructions the child goddess Aphrodite had given her, but his presence made it difficult. She tried her best to toy with him, to raise and lower his hopes by turns, but she kept forgetting, kept wanting him to edge still closer.

Outside the apartment, at the far end of the corridor where Proteus had not been able to see him, Phorkys, the brother of Nereus, waited impatiently. Keto, his wife and sister, appeared behind him and he turned gruffly to greet her.

“Has he answered yet?” he demanded.

She nodded. “Yes. Where are they?”

“Together, in her room.”

“Oh,” the goddess said, eyebrows rising meaningfully.

“What did Lord Kronos say?”

“He must suspect that Proteus has a companion. He asked if anyone accompanied him here. He wanted to know the name of that person.”

“Have you answered yet?” Phorkys asked. “I don’t remember the nymph’s name.”

“She is Nalassa, the daughter of Asopos. I sent a message in reply to Lord Kronos before returning here, telling him her name.” Keto glanced down the corridor toward the apartments of the visitors. “Do you plan to watch all day? What more do you expect to learn?”

“I suppose you’re right,” Phorkys said. Reluctantly he turned away and followed his wife back to their apartment.

Behind them, within the apartment of Nalassa, the daughter of the river god Asopos lay in the arms of the son of Okeanos. Olympos seemed very far away. Once or twice Proteus’s thoughts returned to Kronos, but they could not remain with him long. Sweet love beckoned them back to the beautiful nymph beside him, pushing aside all other concerns, even duty.

Four

The titan Iapetos paused just within the entrance hall of his apartment. An odd quiet hung over not only this room, but the entire apartment. At this time-early afternoon-his energetic younger sons should have been hard at play here. He listened carefully before continuing through the atrium toward his own rooms.

While day had followed day in lazy progression for Proteus and Nalassa, time had raced on with alarming rapidity for Iapetos. The plot of Kronos played upon his mind almost incessantly.

By nature Iapetos found all injustice repugnant. Everything he saw and heard told him that his brother and king was preparing to perpetrate a terrible wrong upon Okeanos and Nereus. He sensed the injustice of it with every fiber of his being.

Yet what was he to do? However wrong he might be, Kronos represented the single most important principle of law and reason in all the world. Without him the world might very well slip back into the chaos and savagery from which he had extricated it. Would it not be a greater wrong to oppose him and risk such a calamity? Should he endanger all the gods merely to save two, however innocent they might be? To condone injustice as unthinkable. But to do otherwise, to endanger the entire framework of order and justice that Kronos had imposed…?

Such thoughts haunted the Titan as he made his way toward his bedroom. As he entered the chamber, a low sound drew his attention. He moved absently toward the doorway that led to his wife’s room, intending to speak briefly with Klymene. For a number of days now-since she had chanced upon him and the Titaness Themis together in the orchards of Olympos-she seemed to be avoiding him. Even though he had a great deal on his mind, he wished to speak with her and assure himself that she was not angry with him.

He entered her bedroom from his own. Klymene was not there, nor was Menoitios, their infant son. A quick, furtive movement at the rear of the chamber attracted the Titan’s attention. Puzzled, Iapetos crossed the room. Something small stirred from below a table and flitted toward the open window.

It was a messenger of the type favored by Okeanos and his children, and Iapetos lifted his right hand in greeting. “Wait!” he called. “I am Iapetos, the husband of Klymene, who is the daughter of Okeanos.”

The creature-a fish with the wings of a hawk-flew in a tight circle just outside the window, on the gallery. It made low, rapid hooting sounds, then finally settled upon the railing to watch the Titan.

Iapetos approached it slowly this time. “Do you bring a message for my wife?” he asked.

The creature watched him through wide fish eyes. He took another step toward it, and the thing began to make low, uneasy noises. Its wings opened partway and twitched in nervous readiness.

“What’s wrong, creature?” Iapetos demanded, annoyed by the manner of the messenger; in the past such creatures had always been obsequiously polite, as was fitting in their dealings with gods.

“You have a message for Lady Klymene?” he demanded. “Is that why you are here? I’ll deliver the message to my wife. You may give it to me.”

The Titan stepped closer. The creature rose suddenly into the air, cawing shrilly. Before he could follow it out onto the gallery, it had flown from sight.

Turning slowly, he walked back into his own room. What did it mean? Why would a messenger to his wife-probably from her father or mother-react in such a way, as though the message were secret, intended for her alone?

He began to walk back and forth across his room. Such a message could be an indication that Okeanos was aware of Kronos’s plot. … It could even mean that Okeanos-and possibly Klymene!-were aware of the role in that plot assigned to him. As he paced Iapetos became more and more uncomfortable.

He started to leave the apartment, but changed his mind and instead crept back toward Klymene’s bedroom. He leaned through the open doorway to peer inside.

The messenger had returned. It had settled upon a table near the gallery. Its chest heaved slowly as it breathed through its wide, circular mouth.

Frowning, Iapetos retraced his steps through his apartment to the outer corridor. At first he walked without destination, but when he found himself in the vicinity of the apartment of the goddess Themis, who had once been his wife and was still his sister, he turned his path in that direction.

He tapped lightly at the outer door of her chambers. The door opened partway and the goddess peered out at him, her features plainly displaying her surprise at his unexpected visit.

“I thought we had agreed …” she said.

He stared at her without making any attempt to answer. Somehow her beauty always astonished him; for some reason his memory could never completely encompass it. After a few moments he edged his way past her and into the apartment. He found a chair and quickly seated himself before she could object.

He watched her tall, stately body as she closed the door and followed him into the room. She picked up the silken material she had set aside to answer the door and resumed her own seat. “A new peplos,” she explained as she brushed her long, tawny hair into place with her fingers. “For the wedding. I’ve quite a bit more work to do on it. You may talk if you like, but I must sew.” Spreading the fabric across her lap, she continued stitching a border of silver thread.

He seemed not to hear. When he did not reply, she continued, “Why have you come here? I thought we said everything to each other when we last met. There’s nothing more to say, brother.”

“Have you spoken with Klymene?”

The goddess shook her head. “Not since that day in the orchard. You explained to her, didn’t you?”

“I told her we’d met by accident. I don’t know if she believed me.”

Themis shook her head. “You might have thought of something better to say.”

“I couldn’t tell her the truth.”

“No, I suppose not.” A bittersweet smile touched her lips. “You couldn’t tell her that you were bidding your lover a last good-bye. You’d have to admit that we have been lovers-again.”

“Since that day,” he continued, “I’ve barely seen her. She’s always busy, always going somewhere. It’s as though-“

“As though she doesn’t believe your explanation? As though she’s angry with you and exacting her revenge by avoiding you? You might have told her something more convincing.”

“I thought best not to persist in my explanation. That would only have strengthened her suspicions.”

Themis nodded, a stiff smile firmly set upon her lips. “And so you come to me with your domestic problems! This really isn’t fair, you know. But tell me, have you asked where she is on these occasions?”

“She says she’s working with the Hesperides, helping with their gowns for Eurybie’s wedding.”

Themis shrugged, lifting her own sewing a little toward him. “That’s certainly reasonable enough. All of us are hard at work just now, you know. The Hesperides undoubtedly need assistance, being little skilled themselves in such things. Klymene’s gracious enough to assist all who solicit her help. Why do you doubt her? It sounds reasonable to me.”

“It’s reasonable, I suppose-except that she and the Hesperides have never been particularly friendly before. And she’s absent for such lengthy periods of time-far longer than it should take merely to help with sewing-“

Themis laughed. “How little you know of the work of goddesses! To properly sew such garments-garments suited to the occasion and the wearer-why, weeks could be required, even months! How lucky you are, brother,” she said quite serious now. “Your wife discovered you in what many would consider a compromising situation-alone in a very isolated part of the orchard, where few ever go, with someone she knows you once loved. She neither chides nor questions you, yet you aren’t content. You scrutinized her every word and gesture, seeking the slightest suggestion that she disbelieves your lame excuse. …”

He did not answer.

Her fingers remained hard at work as she spoke. “Mj advice is to look within yourself. It’s you who are suspicious-suspicious of yourself. You know the guilt that lies within you, and it makes you think she can see it as clearly as you. There’s your problem, brother.”

For almost a full minute she watched him, her clear gray eyes studying his face. Finally she said, “Something more is troubling you. I’ve sensed it the last few times we’ve met. She laid aside her sewing and started to reach a comforting hand toward him, but caught herself and drew back.

He nodded. “You see too deeply. But I can’t tell you abou that yet.”

“Oh?” She shrugged. “Well, as to Klymene, if you think it might help, I’ll talk with her. …”

He shook his head as he rose to his feet. He had been upon the verge of telling Themis about the peculiar messenger he had discovered in Klymene’s room, but changed his mind He stepped toward her to kiss her good-bye, but she pushed him away.

“Please, no!” she exclaimed. “Why torment each other with what can never be again?”

“I can’t help it,” he said bitterly. “I still love you, and you still love me. You can’t deny you do.”

She rose and walked a few paces away, then stood with her back toward him. “And you love Klymene. Don’t deny that, either. You won’t be happy unless you have both of us, which can never be. How weak and how foolish I must be, to have betrayed myself after all these years. I should nevei have returned to Olympos. I should have remained far away, where distance dulls the pain….

“Oh, Iapetos,” she continued suddenly, “this was all settled long ago, when we learned that you were destined to father sons by another wife. You have that happiness. It’s yours now. I still must wait for the happiness promised me.”

“What do you mean, Themis? I don’t recall …”

She nodded, smiling despite herself as she turned back to face him. “Not long ago I went again to Delphoi. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to hurt you. I shall have a great new love, Iapetos-a far greater love than I’ve ever known. I must wait-perhaps a very long while-but in time it shall be mine!” Her voice was almost exultant.

The Titan’s eyes were downcast, and he was frowning.

“How selfish you are,” she cried. “After all I’ve suffered, you begrudge me this distant happiness. You have Klymene and your children. I have no one!”

“But I still love you,” he said softly, “and I don’t care about anything else. All I know is that I still want and need you.”

She had started to cry. “Please go,” she managed to say. “Please, please go. You see what sadness you bring me.”

Iapetos hesitated, then turned toward the door. “I’m sorry,” he said, but she did not reply. He pulled the door closed behind him and walked slowly away, sunk in gloomy thoughts.

When he arrived back in his own apartment, he found it as deserted as when he left. No sound disturbed his meditation until he reached his own bedroom.

He came to an abrupt stop, staring in the direction of the doorway that led to his wife’s chambers. The door was closed now, though he was reasonably certain he had left it ajar. He went toward it. Perhaps that was what he had heard, the sound of a door closing. His wife must have returned home just ahead of him; she must have pulled the door shut just as he was entering his room.

He let his pace slacken as he reached the door. Instead of barging in on her, he decided to be more circumspect. He pressed an ear against the barrier.

The sounds that penetrated the wood were too indistinct to interpret. After a moment’s hesitation he put his hand on the small, golden handle and pulled. The door was not equipped with any kind of bolt or latch; it opened easily, and through a narrow crack he peered into his wife’s bedroom.

Klymene stood near the gallery with her back toward him. In her hands she held the winged fish. As he watched she carried it to one side of the room and set it upon a low table.

“Speak,” she commanded, leaning over the thing. “Speak quickly-and softly, lest we be overheard!”

Iapetos held his breath so that the sound of his own breathing would not interfere with his ability to hear the creature. The messenger’s wide, oval mouth flapped two or three times, and then it began to speak. Its voice was low but shrill, and Iapetos heard without difficulty every word it uttered.

“To Klymene, daughter of Okeanos, from Okeanos, her father: Greetings! All proceeds apace. Olympos suspects, but cannot prevent. Already he treads the lip of the precipice and will soon tumble. Fear nothing, daughter, whatever you hear. You and Philyra are our eyes and ears. Watch-listen-wait-be brave! Expect a visitor soon.”

Its message delivered, the creature lapsed into silence. Klymene leaned over it and whispered something Iapetos could not hear.

“No, mistress. That is all,” it replied.

Klymene continued whispering to the creature as she carried it out to the gallery. Standing beside the railing, she held out her hands and stared down at the phantom, watching as it began to fade. When only a few whisps of mist remained, she tossed them outward, toward the clouds far below.

Iapetos let the door close. He staggered away from the doorway. For a few minutes he sat in a chair, trying to absorb what he had heard. Then he rose and made his way out of the apartment, toward the solitude of his workshop.

Five

The dark haired goddess remained immobile beside the railing of the balcony. The instant the door to the adjacent room closed, however, her entire manner underwent an abrupt alteration. She shot a quick glance over her shoulder, then spun around to observe the interior of the room.

Had Iapetos been looking now, the slightest glimpse would have revealed that this was not his wife; no one would ever have mistaken one for the other, except here, where preconceptions and an imperfect view had joined to make the Titan believe he was watching Klymene in Klymene’s bedchamber. In actuality this goddess was only an approximation of his wife-roughly of the same height and figure, with similar long, flowing dark hair. Her facial features failed utterly to simulate those of the gentle, good-natured Okeanid; instead her face displayed an unbecoming furtiveness as she glanced about.

Having assured herself that no one was in the room, she looked quickly to left and right along the gallery, then caused wings to grow from her shoulder blades. A few strokes of her wings took her to the gallery directly above and a few quick steps brought her to a window that led inward toward a corridor. Stepping through the opening, she made certain that no one was nearby to observe her, then let her body slip back to its natural form. Her hair lightened to golden blond and her luxurious figure became a bit taller. Pulling the cloak around her, the sea goddess Eurybie made her way quickly toward her own apartment, which lay only a short distance away. None of the gods and goddesses moving about the corridor on their own business seemed to pay her the slightest attention.

She closed behind her the main door of the apartment, then let herself lean against it for a long moment as she breathed out a sigh of relief. She looked up suddenly to see a figure rise from a chair across the room from her.

The sudden motion startled her, but she relaxed again almost immediately.

“Oh, it’s only you!”

He looked even taller and more massive than usual as he came silently toward her, wrapped in the dark mantle that served as his only clothing.

“Whom did you expect?” the King of the Gods asked softly. “Who else might meet you here? You’re trembling, and you’ve been gone a long time. Did something go amiss?”

She shook her head, wiping her face with the back of her long, delicate hand. “This isn’t my sort of task, my lord. It makes ine jittery. Iapetos could have recognized me-I mean, he could have realized I wasn’t Klymene. If he had come any nearer to me-“

“But he didn’t approach that closely,” Kronos said, taking from her the cloak she was wearing and tossing it across a low table. He led her to a chair and sat down near her. “He did just as I said he would. He watched and listened, nothing more-am I not correct?”

“But you couldn’t be sure he would act that way,” she protested. “He might have taken it into his mind to confront me, and then-“

“Then you would have fled to the gallery and escaped him-just as I instructed you.”

She moistened her dry lips. “It was too risky,” she insisted. “I’ve fulfilled your mission, my lord, but please don’t ask me to help in this way again.”

For a few moments he was silent. Then he said, “But everything went as planned?”

She nodded. “Exactly as planned. He found the messenger when he came home, because of the sounds, and when he returned the second time, he saw me and the messenger-“

“You’re certain he was watching? How can you be sure, since you couldn’t look directly at him?”

She opened her clenched palm, revealing a small, highly polished silver disk. “I glimpsed him in this.”

“And he heard all that was said?”

“That I can only surmise. I had to keep my voice low, so it wouldn’t betray me, but I’m confident he heard more than enough. Reassure yourself, my lord. WeVe every reason to believe things went just as you planned.”

The King of the Gods smiled. “Good. Very good, Eurybie. I must compliment you.”

“It isn’t compliments I want,” she said. “I’d rather have a nice gift-something lavish, preferably.”

He laughed. “And you shall have it, when we’ve finished.”

“When we’re finished? What do you mean?” She made a noise indicative of annoyance and formed her lips into an expression of distaste. “Have I no longer a voice in the things I do and the things I don’t do?”

“I still need your help, Eurybie. Will you deny it to me?”

“Of course not, my lord. You know I’ll assist you in any way I can-but I do like to be consulted. You haven’t even told me what you expect to accomplish with this elaborate ruse.”

“I’m surprised you can’t guess.”

Looking up at him, she said, “I suppose it has something to do with keeping Iapetos faithful to you.” A slight smile touched her lips. “Whatever you did to my betrothed-when you made him and Koios hunt with you-certainly succeeded, though I’m not convinced it was worth the trouble. You merely turned a timid rabbit into a groveling worm, a questionable accomplishment.”

“Perhaps, but now I’m certain Crios will obey no matter what I demand. He won’t dare disobey.”

“Oh, I suppose so, though I still don’t think it was necessary. But is that what you are doing to Iapetos?”

Kronos’s great head nodded slowly. “That’s part of it. I intend to bind him to me just as I have bound Crios and Koios. What you witnessed a little while ago was only the second of three steps in that process. The first-“

“Of course it would be a three-step plan! I would expect nothing less from the King of the Gods.”

“I was about to say,” Kronos continued, “that the first occurred some days ago. The final installment, in which you will be a principal element, will take place tonight.”

Eurybie frowned and signed. She leaned back in her chair. “As you wish, my lord. Would you be so kind as to lay out before me the various elements and sections and subdivisions of this plan of yours. I know simplicity bores you, but I find it refreshing occasionally - and ever so much easier to comprehend. Your purpose, you say, is to bind Lord Iapetos to you. That, I should think, will be both easy and difficult: easy because everyone obeys your orders and difficult because Iapetos stubbornly insists upon thinking for himself. You don’t want only his obedience. You want him to approve of your commands, to execute them gladly, and that I think will be a good bit more difficult to manage.”

Kronos was listening with bemused interest. “Keep an attentive eye on the proceedings, then. You may be surprised. Crios and Koios are mine now, in thought and action. I must have the same degree of devotion from Iapetos. Unlike the other two, he can’t be intimidated. The threat of force would only drive him from me.  He paused for a moment, thinking, then continued, “Do you remember telling me, Eurybie, that everyone has a weak point?”

She nodded.

“The concept was not new to me, of course, though I’d never phrased it so concisely. I’d always thought of it in terms of what one wants or fears. They’re really the same thing, but viewed from opposite directions. My brother Okeanos wants dignity and fears humiliation. To use your terms, his weak point is his pride.

“Now, apply this to my other brother, Lord Iapetos. What is it that he wants or fears? Like each of us, many things. But most important to him are his wife and children, and the goddess he still loves. You know that he was once married to Themis, before he married Klymene?”

“Yes,” she said, leaning forward now with unconcealed interest.

“When he first married Klymene, he didn’t love her at all, though he’s since grown very fond of her. Still, it is Themis who stirs his passions.”

“Why then did he marry the Okeanid?”

“He became convinced that he must marry her, that such a marriage was destined.”

Eurybie scrutinized the features of her king. “Convinced? I sense something more lurking beyond your bare words.”

“It was an oracle of Gaia. Only thus could his children be born. Themis, herself, told him he must bow to its fulfillment. Another characteristic of my brother, you may have noticed, is righteousness. Neither his own happiness nor that of Themis could dissuade him once he was convinced, and so he put aside the wife he loved and took instead an Okeanid about whom he cared nothing.”

Eurybie, who was always fascinated by tidbits of gossip, shook her head slowly. “He forsook his love for his duty-or what he considered his duty. I almost find myself admiring such strength of character. Still-” She hesitated, smiling. “Few would dare risk an oracle in so delicate a matter as love-since it would almost always be unfavorable-so he must have gone to ask how he might gain offspring. …”

She laughed self-consciously. “How preposterous. I must be careful, Lord Kronos. I’m becoming terribly suspicious. I was just thinking that of all the Titans, only Iapetos-and Crios, once he and I are married-failed to marry a Titaness. Crios is marrying me, of course, because you wish him to, so that you may have a claim, however tenuous, to the throne of my brother. …” She laughed again. “No, even you couldn’t be so calculating as that, to plant the seeds of your triumph decades before their fruition-to plant them at the expense of your brother’s happiness all these years. …”

“I suppose this is one of the vexations I must endure,” Kronos said slowly. “When there’s an evil in question, I’m attributed powers beyond those of any god; when there’s a good … Seriously, Eurybie, do you think I can control the oracle of Gaia, shaping it to my own ends? If you know how it can be done, please tell me. That would be a useful talent.”

“Of course, my lord,” she said, smiling broadly and nodding her head in assent. “It is as you say … as always. Still …” Her voice trailed off.

“We were speaking of Iapetos’s weaknesses,” Kronos continued, “not of the powers attributed to me. His family is one, and it’s there that he’s most vulnerable, if only for the reason that we’ve just been discussing. It’s there that I have determined to attack him.”

“And I’m to be your weapon?”

He ignored her question. “Iapetos has been seeing Themis without Klymene’s knowledge. He saw her three days ago, down one of the orchard paths after supper. I saw them go down the path separately and guessed what was in progress. When Klymene happened to come nearby looking for her husband, I directed her to their trysting place. And so step one fell into place without any effort on my part.”

“But what have you accomplished, except to make Klymene unhappy and angry with her husband?”

“Oh, far more than that. I’ve tilted my brother off balance, so that when other things begin to happen he’ll be less able to deal with them. Step two, he becomes aware that his beautiful, faithful wife, is, in reality, a spy for her father-that Okeanos is indeed plotting against Kronos, just as Kronos has been telling him, and that fair, innocent Klymene is a party to that plot.”

Eurybie listened in silence, fascinated and appalled by the always surprising intricacies of her lord’s mind.

“You see, don’t you?” he continued. “Klymene found him with Themis. Inevitably there will be greater distance between wife and husband. She’ll be suspicious of him even if he convinced her she had no cause for jealousy. After all, she knows full well of his earlier passion for Themis. Iapetos, of course, will be unusually sensitive to his wife’s manner and see distrust even where there is none.

It was for this reason that I had you arrange for the Hesperides to keep Klymene busy. Even though she has, indeed, been thoroughly occupied helping them prepare their wedding costumes, to his guilty mind her prolonged absences from home will be but another proof that she has neither forgiven nor forgotten.”

“I still fail to understand what all this will accomplish.”

“Tonight, when you execute the final part of my plan, I shall gain Iapetos!”

He rose and stretched his massive body, towering over her.

“But enough of this for now. I need something more pleasant to think about. Tell me-is the apartment ready? Philyra will be expecting me shortly.” He glanced out the window to verify the time by the position of the sun.

“I put the final touches on it last night. Would you like to see it?”

He nodded, rising.

“That reminds me, my lord. Why did you implicate Philyra? Now Iapetos thinks she, too, is plotting against you.”

The Lord of the Titans shrugged. If he is no longer overly concerned about the welfare of his niece, is that a bad thing?”

Together they left Eurybie’s apartment.

Six

Philyra, the Okenaid, rose at last from her dressing table. For some minutes her preparations had been completed. Her hair was carefully arranged, her clothing exactingly adjusted, and nothing remained for her to do now but await the arrival of the Lord of the Titans. The loneliness and isolation of her room began to depress her, and she rose to seek out her sisters and some measure of companionship and commiseration.

First she went to look for Klymene, but found no sign of her. The personal quarters of the wife of Iapetos were completely deserted. Indeed, all of the apartment seemed oddly empty and still as she traversed its many rooms. Finally she retraced her path past her own room to that of her young sister Metis.

She found Metis kneeling on the floor surrounded by plants of every description. The girl glanced up for a moment as she entered.

“Wait a moment, Philyra,” she said. “I can’t stop yet. I think I’ve almost found what I’m looking for.”

Philyra settled quietly on Metis’s bed and watched as the divine child turned her attention back to the plant she held in her hand. She stared down at it, evidently with deep concentration. As Philyra looked on the plant began to grow, its tendrils snaking like the limbs of some monstrous sea creature. Finally, with a sigh, Metis set the plant aside and looked up.

The drawn, nervous appearance of Philyra’s usually bright and lovely face immediately drew the child’s sympathy. “Oh, sister,” she said, rising and coming toward her, “why do you put yourself through this? You can’t go on this way. I think you should leave Olympos now. It isn’t too late.”

Philyra shook her head, her mouth drawn into a firm, straight line. “I won’t do that, Metis, not as long as there’s a chance we can help Father and Proteus by staying.”

“But you promised Proteus you’d flee if the danger became too great,” Metis protested.

“And I shall-but only then. I won’t let myself be cowardly at a time such as this.”

“But how long can you endure it all? He’s wearing you down day by day. If this continues, you’ll be useless to Father and yourself. Look how your hands are trembling.”

Philyra clasped her hands together in front of her. “Please, Metis, don’t go on. I am doing some good, you know. At the very least I’m occupying some of Kronos’s time. That must leave him less time to plot against our father. I only wish there were more I could do-some bolder stroke!”

Metis grinned at her. “He certainly hasn’t broken your spirit.”

“It’s amazing,” Philyra continued. “Never once have I encouraged him in any way.”

“Except by failing to discourage him!”

“Oh, that isn’t fair, Metis. In our position here, I can’t offend him.”

“What new stratagem is he unveiling today?”

Philyra shook her head. “I don’t know. That’s one of the reasons I’m so jittery.”

Metis’s voice became serious. “Have you decided what to do if he becomes unmanageable?”

Philyra shook her head.

“You have a dagger?” the girl asked. “You could easily hide one among the folds of your clothing.”

“No! I’d use it on him if I had one. Then we would have to flee Olympos. Why, he could twist it around and claim I attacked him as part of our father’s conspiracy. He could use it as proof of our father’s treachery.”

Metis frowned. “I hadn’t thought of that. But what will you do when he finally grows tired of being put off? I suppose as a last resort you could always faint.”

They had lapsed into silence for a few moments when a sound interrupted their thoughts. Philyra had left open the door to Metis’s room so that they would hear Kronos if he sought admission. Trembling, she threw herself into Metis’s arms, then rose to her full stature and began to quickly straighten her clothing as she made her way to the atrium, the main room and entrance hall of the apartment. There she hesitated, fighting to overcome the skittishness which, even now, threatened to send her racing from Olympos.

As she opened the door the Lord of the Titans filled the doorway. Smiling, he bowed his broad head.

“Greetings, Philyra,” he said, stepping toward her only enough to carry him across the threshold. His quick eyes examined every corner of the large room. “Are Lord Iapetos and Lady Klymene here? I haven’t seen them today.”

“No, my lord.”

“Oh, well, I’ll see them some other time. You’re ready? Good, let’s go.”

Before she could agree or object, he took her by the arm and led her out into the corridor.

“But where are we going?” she asked, trying to sound cheerful even though she was almost breathless from the manner in which he had whisked her through the door and closed it behind them.

He shook his head. “I won’t explain anything. There’s nothing so sorry as a spoiled surprise. Be patient, child. You’ll soon know.”

He led her up the circular staircase to the floor directly above, then down a number of twisting corridors.

As they walked, Philyra found herself becoming more and more uneasy. Brave but high-strung, she had greeted each new manifestation of Kronos’s unwavering purpose with suppressed panic. She had returned each gift with a polite message, declined each romantic advance. Yet invariably such actions had no effect on her unwelcome suitor. Finding one path blocked, he sought another-with an indefatigable energy and singlemindedness that came to terrify her.

When for one reason or another she was unable to attend breakfast or supper with him, she found herself cultivated by the beautiful sea goddess Eurybie. While previously they had done little more than exchange polite greetings, now Kronos’s protege appeared out of nowhere with unnerving regularity; and whenever Eurybie was about, the sea goddess inevitably led the conversation to the King of the Gods, to the wealth at his disposal, the power at his command. Each new proof of the determination of the Lord of the Titans left Philyra still more nervous-and less certain that she could continue to evade him.

As they walked she darted quick glances in his direction. He was talking calmly and easily; she had no idea what he was talking about. His manner was friendly, relaxed, without hint of subterfuge-but still he frightened her. She had a premonition that matters between herself and Kronos were quickly approaching a culmination and it took every effort of her will not to bolt from him and try to lose herself among the corridors.

“Oh, yes,” Kronos continued after a lull in his monologue, “a message arrived earlier today from your father. Perhaps you will tell your sister and Lord Iapetos for me, in case I don’t have the opportunity. Lord Okeanos has informed Crios and Eurybie that he and your mother will attend their wedding.”

“Oh, good,” Philyra said, attempting to make her response seem genuine. She forced a smile to her lips. “I’ll be happy to tell them.” She looked away again as soon as she could do so without appearing rude.

As they walked Kronos seldom took his eyes from her. Her smooth, firm skin fascinated him, and he found himself studying an exposed patch along the side of her neck. She brushed back a dark curl from her cheek, in the process turning in such a way that the tendons of her neck stood out strong and taut in sharp contrast to the delicate femininity of the rest of her. The movement was enticing-and maddening.

Somehow she managed to imbue every demure movement, every shy word, with coy promise. Experience told him that she could not possibly be the chaste young thing she pretended; he knew that her shy glances and quick smiles were mere artifice-or were they? Even the slight chance that she might really be the modest creature she pretended added immeasurably to her charm, making him all the more determined to penetrate her maidenly reserve.

Now he drew her to a halt before huge double doors.

“Here is where I’ve been leading you,” he said. The doors swung slowly inward to his touch, revealing a panorama of lush opulence. Floors of lapis lazuli gleamed in the full golden light of the sun, which flooded into a broad atrium through large open windows. Upon the walls vistas of sky and mountain, valley and plain, had been created by infinitely skilled hands from pigments of gold and silver and pulverized gems of every type. The rarest of woods and fabrics had been employed to furnish the room.

Kronos led her within, pushing the doors closed behind them. He let his extended hand move from left to right. “Have you ever seen such a place?” he asked. “Not another suite on Olympos has such rich furnishings.”

“No, my lord,” she answered. “I must admit it. I’ve never seen such a room before.” Her mind was racing, trying to find a way to extricate herself from this lush trap.

He was still holding her lightly by the arm. Now he guided her to one side of the atrium and down a short hallway. As they walked he opened door after door to reveal each room they passed. The same lavish luxury greeted them at each threshold.

“My lord,” she said, “indeed this is all wonderfully beautiful, but tell me-why have you brought me here? Whose rooms are these? I’d think they were yours, except that I know your chambers are high above us.”

“Patience, Philyra,” he said softly. “Come this way.”

Another door opened. A cedar-framed bed dominated the room, its purple mattress embroidered with floral designs executed in threads of gold and silver. Against one wall stood the full-length mirror that Kronos had given Philyra and which she had returned to him. Near it was a small dressing table. Scattered across the top of the table lay a large assortment of jewelry, glittering with every kind of precious gem. Among these things the Okeanid recognized the necklace and other gifts Kronos had given her and which she had declined.

She drew away from him, struggling to control her emotions. She could guess quite easily what all this was about. Nevertheless, she said, “These are the things I sent back to you. What does this mean, my lord?”

The Lord of the Titans nodded. He scooped up a handful of the baubles and let them slip through his fingers back into a heap upon the tabletop. “I am your king,” he said simply. “If I wish to give a present, I will give it.”

Philyra had drawn a few steps away and was clutching her hands together above her waist. “But I’ve told you before, I can’t accept them.”

He stepped toward her, talking soothingly. “Come now, lovely child. You have much to learn of both Olympos and the world. And your first lesson is that you must obey your king, especially when he so obviously has your interests at heart.”

His smile, so natural and guileless, made her quake.

“But, Lord Kronos, what does all this mean? Why have you brought me here?”

His arm slipped around her trembling shoulders. “To show you your new chambers, Philyra. You’ve been the guest of your sister and Lord Iapetos for too long. Now you shall be my guest here on Mount Olympos. This apartment is yours. Beauty like yours needs a proper setting, just as the beauty of a jewel must be displayed properly if it’s to be fully appreciated.”

“Please, my lord. Can it be that you still don’t understand, that I haven’t made myself clear?”

He tried to soothe her as she continued to retreat a step or two at a time. Each time hi’s arm started to settle upon her body she backed away again. “Don’t be foolish, child,” he told her. “There isn’t a goddess on Olympos who wouldn’t leap at the opportunity to have such an apartment as this. Why, I’ve had it all expressly furnished for you.”

“No, my lord, I cannot. It would-it would compromise me-“

“Compromise!” he repeated, beginning to chuckle. “Philyra, can’t you put aside such silly notions for a while? If you fear gossip, that needn’t worry you. I know very well how to silence thoughtless tongues. Why should you not have such comfort as this? Would you deny me the opportunity to show my appreciation of you? I do appreciate you, you know. …”

Again he stepped toward her, his arm slipping around her waist and attempting to draw her toward him. Her entire body trembled in extreme nervous agitation.

“None of those other things need concern you,” he continued. His hand moved to her neck and shoulder in such a way that it brushed aside the fabric of her peplos and stroked her delicate skin.

“Oh, please, my lord!” She tried to turn away, but his other arm restrained her. “This cannot be! The other gods and goddesses-were they to learn that I was living here, installed in such luxury, they would certainly think you my lover.”

At last she succeeded in twisting free. She continued to object as he pursued her across the wide room, advancing as she retreated. “They would whisper about me, my lord. They would scandalize us. Think of my reputation if not your own. Would you subject me to such embarrassment? Evil tongues will not be stilled, however much you may threaten, and their vile gossip must inevitably reach my parents and-and your wife! Oh, Lord Kronos, I could never again face my father and mother. It may not-must not be. Even though I know you have only the purest and most honorable of intentions-“

“Come, come, Philyra,” he said, now stepping in front of her so that she could retreat no farther, “forget these foolish objections. I know the true situation, and that’s all that matters. What these others think is of no consequence, and your parents must know you well enough to discount any gossip that may reach them.”

He took her by the hand and began leading her toward another of the many rooms. “You shall enjoy this splendor and luxury, even if I must force it upon you. I’ll not be dissuaded, child.”

Philyra fought to keep back tears of frustration and anger.

Seven

Metis, the youthful Okeanid, looked up from her work when Prometheus and Epimetheus called to her from the entrance to Ophion’s tunnel, the nearly forgotten passageway that had been bored through the walls of the palace by the ancient snake god long before the Titans came to Mount Olympos. The goddess was still sitting on the floor near the gallery, amid her numerous plants. Perhaps twenty minutes had elapsed since the departure of her sister Philyra, and during that time Metis had once again completely lost herself in her work.

Before regaining their normal size, the divine boys hopped down the short distance to the floor and walked out around the large wooden chest that partially concealed the entrance to the tunnel. They were just returning from the apartment of Momos, where the strange new creatures the Muses had dubbed man were hidden.

“Have you ever thought that maybe Ophion is still in there,” Prometheus asked as he and his brother recovered their short white chitons from the places where they had hidden them, “and that someday we may run into him?”

“Too often,” Metis answered. “There are times when I’m sure he’ll slither at me from just around the next turn.”

The brothers finished deftly adjusting their clothing. “Two more of the mortals can speak,” Epimetheus announced.

“That makes eight so far-no, nine counting Alalkomeneus,” Prometheus said. He squatted on the floor beside Metis while his brother continued to stand.

“They’re fun to watch,” Epimetheus said. “It’s curious, though, the way they dislike each other. They’d probably fight all the time if we didn’t stop them.”

“That’s not true,” Prometheus said. “Usually they’re just playing.”

“The apartment is still safe?” Metis asked, dividing her attention between the plant in her hands and the two brothers, who were the sons of the Titan Iapetos and Metis’s sister Klymene. “No sign of Momos or any other god?”

They shook their heads.

“Everything’s fine there,” Prometheus assured her, “but we’ll have to bring more food soon. They’re nearly out.”

“The head of Oizys is always hungry,” Epimetheus said. “I’ve never seen anything like the way he eats. Just one of us could carry enough food to feed the mortals for a year, if it weren’t for him. He takes one big bite, chews it up, then waits a number of minutes before taking another bite. But he’s always eating!”

“You’d probably seem pretty strange too,” his brother said, “if you were just a big head with a tiny little body dangling from it. One mouthful is probably all that’ll fit in his stomach at one time.”

“I don’t like him,” Epimetheus continued. “He always seems to be watching us.”

“He might not be so scary,” Metis said, “if he were able to talk. That hissing sound he makes way in the back of his throat, when he’s trying to attract attention, always makes me want to get far away from him.”

“And he always wants the same thing,” Epimetheus said. “Food.”

Metis broke off small pieces from one of the shoots of the plant she was holding and handed them to the boys. “Taste these and tell me what you think.”

Epimetheus demured. “Taste that? I don’t want to.”

Metis slipped a piece into her own mouth and chewed slowly. Prometheus hesitated, then followed her example.

“It isn’t bad, is it?” she asked after a moment. “But it’s not right… not quite right. … It needs a lot more work.”

Epimetheus snorted in contempt. “You’ll never get anyone to eat stuff like that!”

Prometheus leaped to her defense. “You haven’t even tasted it. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I don’t expect anyone to eat it the way it is,” she interrupted, trying to avert an argument. “But by the time I’ve finished, nobody’ll want to eat anything else.”

“I still don’t understand what these plants have to do with the dead nymph in Thanatos’s room, or with red ichor,” Epimetheus said.

“Pink ichor,” Prometheus corrected. “Not red like the blood of mortal creatures, or clear like the ichor that runs in the veins of the gods, but somewhere in between.”

“Red, pink, I still don’t see the connection.”

“What Metis said makes a lot of sense. How can we expect our bodies to remain immortal when we consume perishable food? Over a long period of time all the poisons in that food must accumulate inside us.”

“But no god has died, only a nymph. How does that prove anything? Why should the food all of us eat kill her and not anyone else?”

“Nymphs-I mean the river nymphs and nymphs of the woods and fields-aren’t as powerful as other goddesses,” Prometheus said. “Maybe they’re more susceptible to these poisons than the rest of us.”

Epimetheus was shaking his head as Metis interrupted. “Maybe I’m completely wrong,” she said, “but I want to see if I can come up with a really good food-something as delicious and as imperishable as nectar. It may have nothing to do with the nymph’s death, or with the color of her ichor. Nevertheless, it only makes sense that if we are indeed immortal, we should not feed our bodies with food that rots. Each time we eat something that’s died, we consume a portion of mortality.”

“But you’re saying,” Epimetheus continued, “that the nymph wouldn’t have died if she’d eaten this new stuff of yours all her life, instead of all the plants and animals she did eat? Or is that what you’re saying?”

Metis shook her head. “I’m not saying anything yet. I’ve told you the thoughts that led to a feeling I have about this. Maybe the nymph would have died in any event. I suspect that’s probably the case. The important point, though, is that her death suggested this idea to me. It’s only an idea. It can’t hurt to see what kind of food I can develop.”

Metis grimaced inwardly. Her brother Proteus had made her promise not to tell anyone about his recent visit to Olympos, and so Prometheus and Epimetheus were aware of only a small part of her endeavors. They thought they were helping her protect the mortals and punish Thanatos, who would harm the little creatures. She could not tell them about the suggestive pink tint she had seen in Nalassa’s ichor when the naiad had accidentally pricked her finger.

The conversation dwindled to silence, and a short time later the brothers left to go to their own room. Metis returned to her work, but as soon as the door closed she heard a soft, high-pitched shout from the direction of Ophion’s tunnel.

As she looked in that direction the mortal Alalkomeneus stepped into view from behind the wooden chest. “Hail, Lady Metis,” he cried as he advanced across the floor. A miniature cloak flared around him. “I’ve followed your instructions carefully, O Lady of Swift Wisdom. I’ve been waiting inside the tunnel for a long time, until my lords Prometheus and Epimetheus departed-even though I bear important news.”

At the man’s sudden appearance Metis set aside her work. She swooped him up, brought him to her cheek, and kissed him. “There you are, my little Alalkomeneus. I’m so glad to see you. I was starting to worry. You’re late getting here. But tell me quickly, what’s your news?”

“I’ve much to report, my lady, but nothing as important as what I learned in the chambers of Thanatos. After completing my other duties, I followed the leg of Ophion’s tunnel that leads to that god’s hidden room. Always when I go there, a terrible fear grips me, and the noisome smell of the place-“

Metis laughed, holding him close to her face and kissing him again. “Oh, Handsome Man of the Facile Tongue, you love your words too well. If my brother Proteus were here, he might revoke his gift of speech, for you indulge it to the point of abuse. If this news is really important, then tell me quickly and in few words.”

“Pardon, my lady. I’ll try.” The man looked chastened.

“I located the man assigned to watch Thanatos today. Unlike the one who was there yesterday, he seemed very observant and not overly fearful. He told me that Lord Thanatos awakened briefly a short time before I arrived.”

“Awakened!”

“Yes, my lady. The god awakened and sat up. He looked about the room, then crossed the room to pour himself a cup of nectar.”

“Did he speak with anyone? Did anyone see him-any god?”

“No, my lady. He drank, then stumbled back to bed. Almost immediately he fell back to sleep. When I was told these things he had been sleeping for a long time without so much as moving an arm or leg.”

Metis set the man aside and rose quickly to her feet. Alalkomeneus watched as she opened one of the oak chests that lined the walls of her room and withdrew from it a leather bag.

“This is indeed important, little Alalkomeneus. Thanatos must be kept sick and unconscious. We can’t let him talk to any of the gods.” Of all Kronos’s confederates, Thanatos alone had reason to suspect that Proteus had been here on Olympos. Metis had promised her brother that she would keep him safely indisposed and incapable of revealing to Kronos all that he had seen.

Working quickly, she transferred a small amount of powdered herb from the bag into a tiny swatch of linen, then fastened the linen closed with thread. She passed the now manageable bundle to Alalkomeneus.

Loosening her clothing and letting it fall to the floor around her feet, she began to shrink in size until she was only a little larger than the man.

“Will you remain here, or come with me?” she asked as she strode to his side and took the parcel from him; it was now larger than her own head.

“O Bright-eyed Goddess of Inexhaustible Sagacity, I will be flattered to be allowed to accompany you on this mission. My eyes will drink in every divine act of your glorious being. I will-“

“You will be quiet, my friend.”

He followed her into the tunnel. A torch burned in its holder, and from it the goddess lit a second, which she had selected from a large stock that lay just within the entrance. She handed one to the man and kept the other for herself.

During the days that had elapsed since the discovery of Ophion’s tunnel, Metis had made a point of exploring as much of the intricate system of passages as she could. Her explorations had progressed to the extent mat she could find her way to many areas of the palace with little difficulty. Now she traveled to the chambers of Thanatos in a fraction of the time required on her first trip.

“Tell me, Alalkomeneus,” she said as they walked, “what of your other project? By die way, it is that-and all things having to do with Kronos and Lord Proteus-that we may not share with Prometheus and Epimetheus. You could have told me about Thanatos in front of them.”

“Forgive me, my lady. I was not certain.”

“You’re forgiven, my friend. Now, what else happened today?”

“When I left you this morning, I followed your instructions implicitly. I went directly to the place in the tunnel from which it is possible to overhear what is said in certain rooms of the personal chambers of Lord Kronos. I relieved the man who had occupied that post since last night. I remained there, listening but hearing nothing, until I was myself relieved. That was only a little while ago.”

“You heard no voices? You heard nothing at all-not even sounds?”

“Not even sounds, my lady.”

“Then he must not have been at home.”

“My lady,” Alalkomeneus assured her, “had the King of the Gods been within those rooms, then surely I would have beard him. Even had he been soundly asleep, I would have detected the groaning of the stays of his bed-so carefully did I fulfill the mission with which you entrusted me.”

Metis frowned. “It’s too bad these tunnels don’t run near every room in his apartment, so that we could monitor his activities more thoroughly. Still, it’s likely you would have heard something had he been in the apartment.” She shrugged. “You did well, and I thank you. Perhaps tomorrow we’ll overhear the single phrase or sentence that will make all this effort worthwhile. We must be alert for anything that may help my father and Proteus.”

“I have other things to report, my lady. You have not asked about the progress of my fellow mortals, or-“

“You’ll have to tell me later, Alalkomeneus. We’re almost there.”

They were now approaching the entrance to Thanatos’s hidden chamber. The tunnel entered the room at a point high up on one wall, near the ceiling. Metis had become proficient in making herself mortal-size, but still avoided the more daring feats of metamorphosis that her brother Proteus performed so effortlessly. Where he would have transformed himself into a bird and flown to the floor below, she was content to climb down the treacherous rope ladder that now hung from the lip of the tunnel, concealed only by the darkness of that part of the room. Once she reached the floor, she resumed her normal size and lifted down Alalkomeneus.

The door from the laboratory to Thanatos’s bedchamber had been left ajar so that mortal sentries could come and go. She peeked through the opening. The emaciated god lay stretched upon the matted rags that served as sheets and blankets on his bed. When he did not stir after two or three minutes, she pushed the door more fully open and entered the room. She carried Alalkomeneus in her hand.

A mortal came toward them from his hiding place behind a jumble of clothing heaped in a corner of the room. As he drew near he threw himself down on the floor.

Metis halted, staring at him. “What is he doing?” she asked Alalkomeneus. “Why is he lying down like that?”

Alalkomeneus displayed an air of superiority to the creature prostrated upon the floor. “He’s frightened of you, my lady, but wishes to please you. He is bowing-all the way.”

“I don’t like it. Tell him to stop. It’s undignified and distasteful. I won’t have my mortals doing that. Do you hear me, man?” she asked, now addressing the mortal. “Get up and don’t ever do that again. Have you no self-respect?”

The man rose quickly to his feet. His head hung down and his eyes avoided those of the goddess.

“Has Thanatos moved since he rose and drank nectar? Tell me quickly, man, for it’s important.”

“No, my lady,” the man answered without looking up. “He’s slept the whole time, barely moving.”

“Good. Very good.” She set Alalkomeneus down beside the other mortal and went to a small table against one of the walls. On it were three vessels-a jug of imperishable nectar, an ewer of water, and a mixing bowl. Near these was a smal silver cup, a few drops of red nectar still glistening within it.

Glancing over her shoulder every few seconds, she opened the tiny cloth bundle she had brought from her room and sprinkled most of the contents into the jug of nectar. She swirled the liquid around several times, then crossed the room and let a few particles of the herb fall between the parted lips of the god.

She watched the god for nearly a minute, then went back to Alalkomeneus. “Wait here,” she told him. “Talk with your friend. I have other work to do.”

She opened wide the door to the laboratory so that light from the bedroom would enter it, then took a deep breath and went in. The smell was still very strong. During the time Thanatos had been unconscious, she or Prometheus had come each day to feed the creatures kept in this hidden room where Thanatos had sought to find the secrets of death. The task had not been performed today, and the animals cackled and grunted, lowed and bleated as she moved about the room tossing grain into their cages. She stopped occasionally to bestow a caress on a lamb or goat.

When she had finished she spent a few minutes walking slowly among the long tables that filled the room, many of them still bearing the desiccated remains of dissected mortal animals. The room held a morbid fascination that she could not fully deny.

Her path led past the headless body of Oizys, which lay motionless but still living upon one of the tables, a gruesome testimonial to Thanatos’s relentless curiosity. Proteus had carried away from this room the still conscious head and entrusted it to Metis’s care. It was now hidden away with the mortals in the apartment of Momos.

She forced herself to lean closer and examine the severed neck, which was now completely healed over and showed no indication that it would ever grow back a head. The head of Oizys had already regenerated a body. Though not much larger than the hand of a god, it was perfectly formed and probably would grow to full size eventually. Metis shuddered and walked on.

Finally she paused beside the corpse of the nameless nymph. Its skin had a distinctly gray cast now, and it was obvious that decomposition had set in, though much more slowly than would have been the case with a mortal animal. Metis studied the wound upon the nymph’s arm, but the ichor she had seen there before was now indistinguishable from the decaying flesh.

She thought of Nalassa again. She should have told Proteus. The naiad was mortal; she was almost certain of that. She should have warned him so that he could shield Nalassa more carefully from the dangers that threatened all of them.

Eight

After Kronos finally left her philyra stood for a long time in the doorway of her new apartment, trying to decide what she should do. He had left no doubt that he expected her to take up residence here; it was an order from the King of the Gods, however softly phrased.

In her mind she cursed him. She was doubly offended. Not only did he refuse to let her gracefully decline his unwanted attention, but he seemed to think he need only dangle the right trinket before her and she would leap willingly into his arms. A flush mounted her cheeks and made her face burn with humiliation and anger.

She would not stay here! He might be the King of the Gods and she only a guest in his palace, but she would not submit to this. Even if she must flee Olympos-something she certainly did not want to do because of the obligation she felt to assist Metis and Proteus-she would not allow him to force her into such a compromising situation. He had promised to return tonight to visit her. Well, he would not find her here!

She took a last look about the opulent atrium. Under other circumstances an apartment such as this would have brought exclamations of delight to her lips. Today it seemed instead a vile and taudry place-an emblem of shame. She fled into the corridor, back toward her old room in the chambers of Iapetos.

Why could he not see that she had no interest in romance-none at all, not with him or with anyone? She was still too young for that, at least in her own mind. Other gods had tried to court her since she had arrived on Olympos, but she had gently and firmly discouraged all overtures. Someday-perhaps soon, perhaps years from now-she would find love; she was certain of that, too, in her own mind. But not just yet, and certainly not with Kronos. She seldom even thought of love, so many other matters clamored for her attention.

She would simply ignore the Lord of the Titans, she decided suddenly. She would not move her belongings. She would return to her old room and continue to live with her sisters. If he objected-well, she would deal with that when it happened.

Despite this resolution she found herself wanting the advice and consolation of someone she could trust and speak with openly. When she reached the apartment of Iapetos she hurried to find her sister Klymene. She had spoken to Klymene about Kronos before, but had never revealed the full depth of the situation. She was determined now to tell her sister everything that did not touch upon Kronos’s plot against their family.

To her dismay she found that Klymene had not yet returned home, and so Philyra went instead to find Metis.

“Where have you been?” the child demanded, shoving the door closed behind them. “What did you do? Did you insult Kronos?”

As quickly as possible Philyra told her all that had happened since they had last seen each other.

“Then no one knows you’re here?” Metis asked. “She didn’t see you come in?”

“She? Who?” Philyra sank into a chair. Her hands trembled uncontrollably.

“Eurybie. She arrived a few minutes ago. I, myself, have only just returned. She said Kronos sent her, and is in your room now with two other goddesses.” Metis sighed. “At least things aren’t as bad as I feared. I thought you might have done something rash.”

Philyra looked both frightened and puzzled. “Why is Eurybie in my room?”

A slight tapping sounded at the door. Almost immediately the door opened to reveal the smiling face of the golden-haired sea goddess.

“Ah, it’s you,” Eurybie said guilelessly as she entered. “I thought I heard you.” Her quick glance took in both Philyra and Metis. “I really must have your help,” she told Philyra. “Come now, won’t you? We’re already late, and have much to accomplish.”

Even as the Okeanid attempted to question and protest, Eurybie took her by the elbow and guided her across the narrow hall. Metis followed along, carefully closing the door behind them.

Eurybie led them directly to Philyra’s room. As they entered they found much of the room’s furnishings pushed aside or stacked together in one area.

“What’s going on?” Philyra asked almost hopelessly. “My things…?”

“Lord Kronos asked me to help you move. He knew you’d be anxious to get settled into your new apartment. We’ve made quite a good start”-she nodded toward the two lesser goddesses who were assisting her-“but I’d really prefer you to take charge of the more personal items. Most of the furnishings here can remain, of course, since better ones already await you.”

Eurybie looked from Philyra to Metis and back to Philyra again. “If we all pitch in, we can be done before supper!”

To her amazement, Philyra found herself busily engaged in moving her belongings. The task was completed quickly, and before long Philyra and Metis stood side by side in the Okeanid’s new apartment. No sooner had Eurybie and her helpers departed than Philyra began to sob.

“Oh, Metis, what shall I do?” the goddess asked.

“Quiet,” the child warned. As Philyra watched Metis moved slowly about the apartment, her eyes examining everything carefully. After a few minutes the young goddess made her way out onto the gallery. When Philyra joined her she said, “Wait here. I’ll be back shortly. On second thought, go sit in the atrium until I return.”

Metis disappeared from sight on the gallery. Four or five minutes later she reappeared, this time entering the artium not from the direction in which she had left, but by way of the main door leading from the outer corridor.

“What are you doing?” Philyra whispered. “Why are you sneaking around like this?”

“It’s okay. You can talk normally right now. Come with me and I’ll show you what I’ve found. I suspected something of this sort. You’re lucky to have a sister with a mind as devious as Kronos’s.”

The young goddess led Philyra out into the corridor and then into a neighboring suite of rooms. Dust and lack of furnishings clearly indicated that no one lived in this apartment.

“I asked myself,” Metis began explaining, “just what Lord Kronos would have to gain by moving you to new quarters.”

“Gain?” the Okeanid asked. “What do you mean? He’s trying to seduce me.”

The child smiled indulgently. “Yes, I understand that. But he’s more likely to have a second-even a third goal in mind. You draw your strength here on Olympos from your family-from Klymene and her husband, even from me. By settling you in new quarters, away from us, he weakens you. He can approach you more easily away from the suspicious eyes of your sisters. Do you follow so far?”

Philyra nodded.

“Now, there’s another point not to be forgotten. You’re a daughter of Okeanos, and Kronos is just now in the middle of a dangerous plot against that god. It would be to his advantage to be able to keep you under observation-to learn what you know concerning his plot against our father, and also to gain whatever information he can that might be useful in his campaign to win you.”

“Under observation,” Philyra repeated slowly as she followed Metis through the dusty rooms of the neighboring apartment.

Metis nodded. “Of course. That’s what we’re doing to him with our sentries posted inside the walls of his apartment. Why shouldn’t he think of doing the same to you?”

“But how?”

“I’ll show you.” Metis led her into a dingy room. Against one wall hung a full-length tapestry. The goddess pulled it aside, revealing an alcove cut deep in the stone wall. A straight-backed chair sat to one side of the small compartment.

“Now you shall see.” Metis took Philyra’s hand and pulled her forward. At the same time she let the tapestry swing shut behind them.

A pinpoint of light upon the opposite wall became as bright as a star in the night sky. Metis led her sister to it.

“Put your eye to the opening and look,” she said.

Philyra did as she was instructed. A gasp escaped her as she peered through the opening. A hole had been bored through the stone wall to look directly into her new apartment.

“What kind of espionage is this-to spy into my bedchamber!”

“Complete with a chair,” Metis said, “so that the watcher may watch in comfort, and at length.”

Philyra was grateful for the darkness that hid her embarrassment from her young sister. Her face flushed hot with outraged modesty. It was not secrets of state that the Lord of the Titans expected to see laid bare.

“How awful he is,” she said, turning away from the peephole and covering her face with her hands. “How dare he-how dare he!”

Metis led her out of the alcove. “Please try to be quieter, sister. He could return here at any moment. We have only a minute or two to talk, for in those new chambers of yours we’ll never be sure we aren’t being overheard. There may be other devices of this sort which I haven’t uncovered, so we’ll have to be on guard continually.”

“How dare he!” Philyra whispered fiercely. “How evil of him, to plot to steal my modesty. Oh, to be able to tell him what I truly think and feel! What a joy that would be. I’m tempted to go to him right now-or at supper, when the Titans surround him and can hear all I say-and throw in his face this vile-“

“He’d only deny it.”

“Yes. Yes, he would,” the Okeanid said sadly. “But what can I do? It’s so unfair. Must I let him get away with such things? Isn’t there some way to turn this dagger against his breast instead of mine?”

They had come to a stop just within the vacant apartment, beside the door that led to the outer corridor.

“Metis, I will have to leave Olympos, even though I wish now more than ever that I could stay to fight against Kronos. But what can I do? His advances grow ever more insistent. If I remain here-particularly in these new chambers-what hope will I have of keeping him at bay?”

Metis had no answer to offer her.

“What a shame, though, that I should have to leave now,” Philyra continued, as much to herself as to her sister. “Now that I know about the peephole of his-and suspect others everywhere-I could be on my guard. I could say only those things I wanted him to hear. I could punish him by always dressing and undressing in total darkness. I could make him think I was about to change clothes where he could watch, but never do it. Oh, if only there were some way I could be reasonably secure. The new apartment is very beautiful. It would be lovely to live in such a place, if only for a few days.”

She turned toward Metis. “If you could come and stay with me,” she said, “he’d be displeased, but he couldn’t very well deny me my little sister-especially since Mother entrusted you to me. Could you not come?”

The child shook her head. “I have to be able to watch over the mortals, and that means I need access to Ophion’s tunnel. Even if there were an entrance in the new apartment-and I haven’t noticed one-it would be too risky, with the possibility of Kronos observing our every word and action.”

Philyra frowned. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

Nine

A massive, wniged figure settled upon the gallery just outside the bedchamber of Klymene, the wife of the Titan Iapetos.

“Here, my lord,” Eurybie whispered as she came out of the darkness of the room. “Here I am. I’ve been waiting a long time.”

Reabsorbing the eagle wings into his body and adjusting his dark mantle about his shoulders, Kronos stepped into the room. A quick glance assured him that they were alone.

“Is Iapetos at home yet?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No. I don’t think so. I haven’t heard anything from his room.”

“Good. We should have a short while before he finishes the errand on which I sent him. What of Klymene? Is she occupied?”

The goddess nodded. In the dim light of the room he could barely see her.

“I checked before coming here,” she said. “Klymene is with the Hesperides, just as she’s supposed to be. They’ll keep her busy for some time yet.”

“Do you remember all you are to say? Here, say the words with me.”

“Very well. But let’s be quick about it-I’m not fond of this type of intrigue.”

Standing close together in the darkness, they whispered back and forth, rehearsing the dialogue they would perform when their audience arrived. As they spoke, Kronos stroked the soft curve of her hip and thigh with the tips of his fingers.

“Good,” he said at last when he was satisfied. “Your clothing-is it right?”

“Even Klymene couldn’t tell it from her own. It’s identical with what she wore at supper.”

“And your hair style? It’s correct, too?”

She nodded. “I’ve only to change its color.”

“Good. Now I must see about lighting this room. There must be just enough light-neither too much nor too little.”

“I’d prefer as little as possible,” she said, following him as he moved about the room lighting lamps.

“Too little light,” he explained, “and Iapetos might doubt the evidence of his eyes. Too much, and he wouldn’t be deceived. Dim light, careful placement of ourselves, proper distance from the doorway through which we will be watched, proper concern to never turn our faces in such a way that they can be clearly seen-by such artifice we can create our own reality.”

He took her arm and positioned her nearer to the gallery windows. “Stand here, just like that a moment,” he said, moving to rearrange a lamp. He changed its position twice more before he was satisfied with the way the shadows fell upon her. “Good. You’ll easily pass for Klymene and I for Proteus.”

“That’s another thing,” she said. “Why choose Proteus to impersonate?”

“I find a certain irony in it. Besides, would you recognize him on sight?”

“I’ve only seen him once or twice. I can’t clearly remember his features, if that’s what you mean. It was a very long time ago.”

“And my brother would have to say much the same. If Proteus, Klymene’s brother, were indeed here, he would be able to alter his features as he pleased, so that he could perfectly impersonate anyone he chose. You or I couldn’t possibly manage that normally. But here, in just the right setting, with someone predisposed to think he sees what we want him to think he sees-Here, how do I look?”

He began to alter his body as he spoke, becoming leaner. The full beard disappeared, reabsorbed into his face. His mane of dark hair grew shorter.

“There. Can you say I am not Proteus?”

She studied his face. “Your eyes betray you,” she said. “Even as changed as you are, I’d know you anywhere by your eyes.”

“Iapetos will not see my eyes. Quickly now-he could be returning this minute-change yourself so that you resemble Klymene.”

Eurybie did as she was instructed. She became slightly shorter of stature, with fuller hips and smaller bosom. Her golden hair darkened to jet black.

“Will this do, my lord?”

The King of the Gods nodded. “Even better than this morning. Now we need only await his return.”

“If Iapetos ever discovers the deceit you have practiced on him …” she said.

He ran the fingers of his left hand along the slope of her neck and shoulder. “He’ll discover nothing.”

“But if he should discover it, then instead of binding him more firmly to you, you will have alienated him completely. You’ll have made him your most bitter enemy.”

“Or my most loyal servant,” he countered. “I would rather a steadfast enemy than a faint friend.”

As they spoke the night outside seemed to grow even darker. The small lamps within the room, set at odd distances from one another, spread a lambent glow throughout the chamber. Time passed slowly as they waited.

“Oh, I wish he would come,” Eurybie complained. “I’ve told you before-I don’t like this type of thing. How do you know he won’t rush in at us, to beat Klymene and Proteus? It’s too risky. Too much can go wrong.”

“I know because I know my brother,” Kronos told her. “That’s not the way he reacts. He’ll listen to all we have to say; then he’ll want to think. He’ll go off someplace, like a wounded animal seeking a hole in which to hide while it licks its wounds. He’ll consider again and again everything he’s seen and heard. He’ll find collaborative evidence, even where none really exists-all kinds of perfectly innocent things his wife has done will suddenly be imbued with new and ominous significance. Finally, when his imagination has finished the task we only begin here-when Klymene has been tried and condemned within his mind-then my brother will act. At that point he will be mine.”

“Prepare yourself,” Kronos whispered suddenly. He left her for a moment, crossing the room and pulling almost closed the door to the adjacent room. He waited there, listening intently, then walked silently back to Eurybie’s side.

“Quiet!” he told her. “I think I hear something.”

“No one’s about. You needn’t fear. We’re alone, at least for a few minutes more.”

Their voices were intended to carry into the next room. As they spoke Kronos continued straining his ears. At last a face appeared at the opening. Dark eyes watched them. Now their performance could begin in earnest.

The Titan Iapetos had spent the day sunk in his own melancholy thoughts. By turns he had been possessed by an almost overwhelming desire to confront Klymene and demand an explanation of the scene he had witnessed that morning, and by an intense aversion to just such a confrontation, which he feared would only confirm the bitter evidence already provided by his eyes and ears.

As he entered his own bedroom a noise informed him that Klymene was in the adjoining chamber. Moving toward the door, he allowed indecision to slow his pace. The door was ajar and he hesitated, positioning himself so that he could look through the opening.

Completely across the room from him, near the gallery, a god and a goddess stood together in the dim light. He immediately recognized the goddess as his wife. That their infant son seemed not to be with his mother did not strike the Titan as unusual. Klymene’s sisters and a number of other goddesses were often willing to care for Menoitios when his mother required time for other matters.

The god, however, Iapetos could not place. He was tall and supple, with dark black hair and an easy manner. Darkness shrouded his face, making it impossible to distinguish his features clearly.

Crouching in the dimness of his own room, Iapetos pulled the door still more closed, so that only the narrowest of openings allowed him to watch them.

Klymene stood very near her nocturnal visitor, her hand gripping his forearm. She seemed to be possessed by extreme emotion-her voice was oddly different, sharper, more intense despite obvious efforts to keep it hushed. Now, as la-petos watched, the god kissed her passionately.

“Oh, Proteus,” she whispered, panting for breath during a pause in their kissing, “I’ve longed for your return for so long-so very long now!” Even though she whispered, her voice cut through the stillness of the room. Iapetos could hear her clearly.

The god only drew her close again.

“How much longer?” she asked when they parted a second time. “How much longer must we wait before we can put aside this cruel sham? How cruel you are to let me have your kisses and caresses-then snatch them away again so soon!”

“Quiet, my love,” the god answered, his voice barely audible to the Titan listening in the next room. “We have too little time to waste with words.”

More than a minute passed before they parted again, still clinging to each other’s hands.

“Soon we’ll be able to abandon all this stealth and pretense. Be brave a little longer, Klymene. Tell me quickly all you must tell, so that we may share a long good-bye. I am on my way from our father to King Nereus.”

“Everything’s in readiness,” she said. “We only await the signal to act. We’re ready, and will not hesitate when the time comes.”

“Good. None of them suspects?”

“I don’t think so-at least not as far as I can tell. Lord Kronos, of course, is always suspicious of our father, but he has no way of proving his suspicions.”

“What of-your husband?”

The female form shrugged. “What of him? He’s Kronos’s creature, and will do whatever Kronos tells him to do. Oh, my love,” she cried, throwing herself into the god’s arms again, “how much longer must we be separated? Haven’t I sacrificed more than my share for the good of our family?

I’ve done all our father asked of me, but I’ve grown so tired-so very, very tired of this endless deception.”

She faced him squarely. “I’ve come to long for the day when I can finally tell him how thoroughly I detest him. Each time he takes me in his arms, I long for you, my love. I’ve only been able to endure it all by reminding myself that eventually, however long it must take, I will be done with all these lying smiles and touches and-”

He stroked her hair as he held her in his arms. “Your trial is almost at an end. Soon-“

“Oh, how soon? Why not now? Tonight? Let us act tonight. The stout prison you told me of-it’s all prepared? You said it was, didn’t you? Strike down my husband for me-strike him down tonight, into helpless unconsciousness. Once he’s locked away where he can do no harm, you can take up his form.” She laughed. “None will know, save I, that the god at my side is not my husband, but my lover!”

“Calm yourself, lovely Klymene. Only eight days remain until the wedding of Crios and Eurybie. Soon all our preparations will be completed, and the time to strike will have finally arrived. Until then, be patient-be patient just a little longer yet. As much as I long to be with you, even if I must wear the form of Iapetos, I may not. I’m needed elsewhere.”

“Oh!” She threw herself upon him at this reminder that he must soon part from her again. “How soon will you return?”

“I can’t be certain-but it won’t be long. Soon. I promise you, I’ll return soon.”

She drew very close to him and rested her head upon his chest. “And then we shall be together at last-at last and forever after!”

From the narrow slit of the doorway, the Titan Iapetos watched and listened. The god and goddess moved out onto the gallery and embraced a final time; then, assuming the shape of a bird, the god disappeared into the night. The goddess stood staring after him into the darkness.

The Titan rose from his crouching position, closed completely the opening through which he had been watching, and made his way quickly and silently from the apartment. Once he reached the outer corridors of the palace, he cast aside stealth and walked hurriedly toward the lower levels of the palace where his workshop was situated. Each step seemed to act as a catalyst in the alchemy that was convening hurt and puzzlement into outrage and hate.

Meanwhile, behind him in the apartment of his wife, the sea goddess Eurybie waited until she was certain that she was no longer being observed. Then she caused wings to grow from her shoulders and flew upward, quickly returning to her own apartment.

Kronos, Lord of the Titans and King of the Gods, awaited her there. She pulled from her shoulders the mantle she had worn to impersonate Klymene and cast it aside. He had mixed drinks of sparkling nectar for both of them and now handed her a goblet as she sank into a chair and sighed deeply. “You see, there was no reason to be apprehensive.”

“Oh, none at all!” she said, laughing. She accepted the drink and gulped down a large portion of it, then tossed back her head and brushed hair from her eyes. “It was dreadfully foolish of me to be worried-I can see that very clearly now. You know how timid and flighty my female personality is, my lord. How silly of me to be concerned. Why, at the worst he might have lost his temper a bit. He might have rushed screaming into the room and hurled his wife out into the night.”

She drank again, then continued, “No, my lord, I see plainly that I had nothing to fear. It isn’t as though Lord Iapetos might have gotten angry at us-I mean at his wife and Proteus-or at us, if he pierced our disguises. I’m sure he’d be most understanding if he somehow discovered that we have destroyed his happiness for our own purposes. My lord-that was the last of it, wasn’t it? You promised it would be.”

Kronos nodded. “Yes, as far as you’re concerned, anyway. I have no further need of your assistance in this affair.”

She sighed, leaning her head far back on her chair. “Those words are sweeter than nectar right now. My lord, I too love the devious route that bristles with unsuspected cleverness-but you go too far, I think. You’re like a cat torturing its prey-a great cat toying with some little creature that it’s wounded and which it allows again and again to almost escape.”

He listened in silence, his expression denoting neither amusement nor annoyance. “Go on, Eurybie. This is most interesting.”

The sea goddess was quickly returning to her normal self now that the ordeal she had dreaded was behind her. As she grew more relaxed she warmed still more to her topic.

“Your mind amazes me, my lord. I’ve told you that before, haven’t I? Each time I watch you doing something like this, new intricacies are revealed, new facets. Easy solutions bore you. You’re never happier than when you can devise devious plots. But you tempt disaster-and for so slight a reward!”

“So slight a reward? From the portrait you paint, I’d have thought my reward ample-the lovely agony of the little creature Iapetos.”

She grimaced. “You know that’s not what I meant. Your joy isn’t in the suffering you inflict-I know that-but in the artistry of the trap you set.”

For a few moments she lapsed into silence, her eyes set upon the marble floor. Without looking up she started to speak again. “I’m afraid you frighten me, my lord. I must never let myself forget just how deadly an enemy you can be.” Her eyes rose slowly until they met his, without flinching. “I often flatter myself. I’m very intelligent, as you well know. But my pride makes me think, at least occasionally, that I could defend myself against you. I must never let myself forget the full measure of your cunning.”

He observed her through narrowed eyelids, his head tilted slightly to one side. “That you may never oppose me?”

“No. That I may be very well prepared indeed, should things ever come to that.”

He frowned. “Why do you keep coming back to thoughts of this kind? Have I ever done you harm? We’re allies. We need never oppose each other.”

They were silent for nearly a minute. Eurybie watched him thoughtfully. Finally she said, “You did do it, didn’t you?”

“Do what?”

“Somehow convince Iapetos to put aside the wife he loved-Themis, your sister-and marry instead the Okeanid Klymene.”

He looked away, not answering.

She laughed. “I suppose that’s answer enough. But how did you do it? You mentioned the oracle of Gaia when we spoke before. Even you could not control the oracle. …”

She stared at him, studying his face. “Or could you? I wonder …”

Kronos’s expression betrayed none of his thoughts, and Eurybie continued thinking out loud. “Perhaps, if the circumstances were exactly right-if they could be manipulated to be exactly right, as with this business with Iapetos a few minutes ago, it might be possible. Oh,” she exclaimed, laughing, “what an amusing conceit. I shall pretend to be Kronos, and discover how I would accomplish this impossibility.”

The Titan leaned back in his chair, smiling. “By all means go on, Eurybie. This should be instructive.”

“To begin, I must keep my goal clearly in mind. I want to separate my brother from his Titaness wife and marry him instead to an Okeanid, so that I may lay a claim through him to the throne of Okeanos. First, an excuse is necessary-and easily available. Themis is barren. If Iapetos wants children, he must take another wife. The daughters of Okeanos are renowned for their fecundity-and beauty.”

She grinned, leaning far forward. “I should start with occasional passing references to this sad state of affairs. Childlessness is such a trial for those who love children. Perhaps I could arrange to have others make similar offhand remarks.”

“I, too, am childless,” Kronos reminded her.

“All the more reason to console each other, and for you to plant your ideas in your brother’s head. Then, somehow, I would arrange for poor Iapetos to be in the vicinity of Delphoi. Now, this is where things become more difficult. …” She pursed her lips in concentration, then looked up suddenly. “Here,” she said, handing him her goblet. “Pour me more to drink, please, my lord, while I work this out. My poor brain must trudge where you would fly.”

He bowed his broad head and accepted the goblet. When he returned she took a sip of sparkling red nectar, then continued.

“It would all have to be carefully arranged in advance, of course-but then I am the King of the Gods, am I not, and therefore easily capable of seeing to such minor details. I would contrive to bring him there in the dead of night, not to Delphoi, but to some very similar place that could easily be mistaken for the real oracle. Then I would shape a phantom and give it a voice as similar to that of Gaia as I could manage. Poor Iapetos would think himself at Delphoi, in the presence of the oracle, when really he was someplace very different, listening to the words I want him to hear and believe-a scene not very different from the one we just performed for him.”

She shivered slightly, looking away suddenly.

“What’s wrong, Eurybie?”

“I know you won’t admit it,” she said slowly, “but I think something very similar to what I just described must have happened long ago to make Iapetos put Themis aside in favor of Klymene. I find that very frightening.”

“That an oracle can be controlled? I’ve agreed with nothing you’ve said. All this is only your own conjecture.”

She shook her head. “No, that’s not what I mean. That you could bend even Gaia to your will does not surprise me-but to be able to look so deep into the future, to plan all this so many years long in advance. …” She shivered again.

Kronos stared at her. He was both flattered and displeased. Eurybie had guessed far too close to the truth, and he realized now that he had allowed himself to speak too freely with her. Hencefore he would have to guard against such openness.

“Poor Klymene.”

“Is that pity I hear?” Kronos asked. “You can hardly afford it just now, if you intend to be Queen of the Aegean.”

He took her hand and pulled her toward him. She came and stood at his side, running her fingers through his hair.

“Poor Iapetos, too,” she said quietly.

He shrugged. “Once Klymene has been exiled to Tartaros-for she’ll never agree to assume her mother’s throne-Iapetos will manage to be happy again with Themis or someone else, and none the worse for the exchange.”

“Your cynicism amazes me!”

“You mean my realism.” He pulled her down into his lap and began unfastening her peplos.

“Wait-you’ll tear it,” she told him. “Besides, the couch is far more comfortable.”

She led him across the room. As he lay down she loosened the catches and let her garment slip to the floor, then sat beside him. He pulled her down and began to kiss her, his hands caressing the velvety softness of her skin. She let her warm body press against his. After a minute or two, however, he pushed her away and sat up abruptly.

“What’s wrong, my lord? I thought you were in the mood-“

He rose and started to walk toward the door. “It’s that Okeanid,” he said gruffly. “I can’t get her out of my mind. Every attractive female I see makes me want Philyra all the more.”

Eurybie watched him leave. Then, with a disinterested shrug, she recovered her garment and began to adjust it back about herself.

Ten

As he made his way toward the new apartment of the Okeanid Philyra, the mood of the Lord of Olympos grew increasingly gloomy. He had taken little pleasure in the deception of Iapetos, and Eurybie’s too accurate conjectures made it clear that he had already confided too freely in the sea goddess.

Even thoughts of the lovely Okeanid Philyra failed to lift his spirits-she was such an obstinate creature. Why did she continue to resist him? What did she expect from him, after all? He had sought to be as generous as he possibly could, yet she declined his every overture while toying with him shamelessly. She was always lovely and alluring, but she might as well be an image of mist and moonlight, for she always slipped through his fingers.

As he walked, he brooded upon the slopes and curves of her femininity, so full of lubricious promise. Whatever might be the cause of her continued resistance, Kronos found himself all the more determined to overcome her objections-by whatever means necessary.

Earlier in the day, after leaving her, he had planned to return tonight and observe her through the peephole from the neighboring apartment. Now he determined to seek her out directly. His patience was exhausted, and he would put an end to these games of hers.

He entered immediately, without announcing himself or awaiting permission to enter. He found the Okeanid sitting quietly in a high-backed chair and looking out a wide window. The moon had not yet risen and dark night lay upon the earth below. At the unexpected sound of his approach, Philyra turned her wide, startled eyes toward him and rose quickly from her seat.

“Good evening, my lord,” she said as he stopped beside her. “As you can see, I’m all moved in. Lady Eurybie-“

“Let us put aside this pretense,” he told her. “I’ve always found it unbecoming to have to hint and wheedle for what I want. Enough of this foolishness. Let us speak plainly, and avoid all artifice. I want you, and I intend to have you. I don’t know what motivates you to keep refusing me, but whatever it is, it will work no longer.”

The crushing pressure of his hand upon her arm made her wince in pain.

“I’m not unreasonable. I’ll be kind to you, and generous-but I intend to have you, whatever the price.”

She tried to pull away but could not escape his grasp. “The price?” she demanded. “What do you mean, price? I am not the object of barter. I am a goddess-a Titaness of the second generation. You may be the King of the Gods, my lord, but your words and actions exceed all propriety.”

“Propriety!” He laughed. “What has propriety to do with me? You are so young that you throw such a word at me and consider it a rebuke. Don’t you know that it was I who created the very concept in which you take refuge-that for a thousand years I struggled to impose such standards of conduct upon the gods? If anyone has a right to set aside propriety, it is I!”

She was only an Okeanid-how dare she toy with him like this? Her smooth flesh taunted him. He stepped closer, slipping his arms around her struggling body and pulling her close, so that he could press his cheek against the bare skin of her neck and shoulders and inhale the deep, heady fragrance of her body.

“What is it you want?” he demanded. “Only tell me that, and it’s yours.”

The crushing, suffocating pressure of his arms around her and the terrifying firmness of his hands as they stroked her body threw her into complete panic. She struggled desperately to escape him, twisting frantically within his arms as she cast glances toward the two possible avenues of escape-the door leading out of the apartment to the corridor and the wide window that looked out onto the gallery.

She fought to insinuate her arms between his chest and hers, so that she could shove him away, but his greater strength prevented the maneuver. Again and again she tried to free herself, each time without success.

Her efforts only made him more determined to possess her-now. He began to drag her toward the bedroom. She started to plead, but only for a moment; even in terror such words did not come naturally to her. She threatened vengeance from her father and brothers, she sobbed, all to no avail. Finally, when she realized that every other course of action had failed, she let herself go completely limp and fell into a mock swoon.

For a moment Kronos hesitated, but only long enough to rearrange the weight of his burden, so that now instead of dragging her toward her new bedroom and the enormous bed that waited there, the god carried her easily in his arms.

She fought to overcome her terror, so that she could maintain her pretended faint. Only with great difficulty did she manage to keep her eyes tightly closed. As he carried her she felt the movement of his powerful, bulging muscles. What hope did she have in denying such a god the thing he had determined to have?

She had pretended to faint, hoping by this unexpected response to cool his ardor while at the same time gaining a few moments delay. Now, to her dismay, she felt the thick, plush softness of a mattress beneath her as the King of the Gods deposited her upon the bed. Almost immediately she felt him sit beside her. His hands, with distressing gentleness, began to loosen the ornamental girdle that belted her peplos. She stiffened slightly despite her best attempt to remain impassive. Now he began to caress her, running one hand along her arm, up toward her shoulder. She fought to control herself, but nevertheless shuddered at the contact. His fingers began to unfasten the shoulder clasp of her gown.

Her eyes popped wide open. A startled cry escaped her lips as she found herself staring up into the divine face and lust-glazed eyes of the King of the Gods.

In the loneliness and security of her own room, she had wondered why he pursued her. It seemed impossible that he should desire her when he practically had his pick of the many beautiful goddesses of Olympos. She could not believe herself capable of inciting such passion.

The look in his eyes now, as she lay beneath him upon the bed, erased such misconceptions from her mind forever.

With a shriek she rolled from under him to the opposite side of the bed. He reached for her, grabbing her clothing instead. The material tore at the shoulder and she clutched it to keep her breasts covered. She sprang from the bed and bolted toward the doorway.

“Wait, Philyra-!” Kronos called from behind her.

She was too terrified to wait. She ran headlong toward the atrium, then out into the corridor and down the stairs. By the time she regained the apartment of Iapetos, she was nearly hysterical. Rushing within, she immediately sought Klymene. Neither Klymene nor Iapetos were at home. She tried to find Metis, but her young sister was not there either.

Now she made her way to her own room. She felt completely alone. Throwing herself down on her bed, she let herself cry. Five minutes passed, then she sat up and wiped the tears from her eyes. Rising, she looked hopelessly about the room.

She had conquered her fear to remain upon Olympos and work for the good of her family. What could she do now but flee? If only she could talk to Klymene or Iapetos. Even though she was not free to consult them concerning Kronos’s plot against Okeanos, there was no reason she should not seek their assistance in keeping Kronos at bay. Iapetos, her brother-in-marriage, had wisdom and influence. She should have gone to him at the very first.

She found a pin to fasten the torn shoulder of her peplos, tied a belt about her waist, and threw a light cloak over her shoulders before leaving the room. She paused on her way out to look into Metis’s room again; the child had still not returned. Then she went directly to one of the circular stairways and descended rapidly.

She had only the slightest notion of where to find the workshop of Iapetos and was more than a little intimidated by the dark, serpentine passages she found once she descended below the level of the great hall of the palace. The light of the sun never penetrated to these lower levels where rooms had been bored from the virgin rock of the mountain. Even when she realized that only ignorance had led her to think she could locate the Titan within the precincts of this forbidding maze, still she forced herself to go on.

He would be able to help her, she kept telling herself. He was a Titan, a brother of Lord Kronos. He would have influence with Kronos.

Occasionally she stopped and called aloud, “Lord Iapetos-my lord, Lord Iapetos!” The torch she held in one hand surrounded her in a circle of illumination. Her voice echoed back, distant and hollow. After listening in silence for a few moments, she forced herself to walk on.

“You seek me?” a voice asked unexpectedly. A tall figure stepped into the corridor ahead of her.

“Iapetos!” she cried, almost tumbling into his arms in her rush to reach him. “Lord Iapetos-brother! I thought I should never find you, it’s so vast down here-and so dark.” She paused to compose herself before launching into a recital of the events that had caused her to seek him out. Her effort was in vain; as soon as she began talking again, the words commenced to spill from her. She told him of the unwelcomed attention shown her by the King of the Gods, of her diplomatic attempts to discourage him, of his refusal to be discouraged. Despite her strongest efforts to remain calm, she began to cry as she recounted all the mental anguish to which her delicate and sensitive nature had been subjected.

At last, when she had poured out her heart to him, she wiped the tears from her eyes and looked up at the Titan. She expected comfort and reassurance; instead she found impassive features and stony silence.

“My lord,” she said, unable to comprehend his attitude, “won’t you help me, my lord?”

For hours the Titan had brooded upon all he had seen and heard earlier that day in the bedchamber of his wife. He had heard, among other things, that the Okeanid now before him, who seemed so innocent, conspired with his wife.

“Please, Lord Iapetos,” Philyra continued, sensing but not understanding his hostility, “I have no other place to turn. I beg you, my lord, tell me what I may do.”

Unmoved, he stared down at her. She was another of the treacherous, backbiting children of Okeanos. He believed not a word of what she said and would not allow himself to be deceived. Such a viper would not wince at the amorous attention of the King of the Gods. She would be more likely to seek it out, to encourage it as a convenience in her traitorous campaign.

“What’s wrong, Lord Iapetos? Surely you will not abandon the sister of your wife!”

“There is nothing I can do,” he said stiffly.

“But my lord-“

He had already turned his back on her. As she watched in disbelief he disappeared through the door to his workshop. Suppressing a sob, the Okeanid reeled away, stunned as completely as if she had been struck in the face.

What did it mean? Why had he repulsed her in this cruel fashion? Could Proteus be right? She had not for a moment thought it possible that Iapetos could indeed be in collusion with Kronos to overthrow their father-but what other explanation could there be for his refusal to even advise her?

Somehow she found her way back up from the lower levels of the palace. What was she to do now, with her last hope exploded? She considered departing Olympos right then, but changed her mind almost immediately. She must first bid her sisters farewell.

She headed again toward the apartment of Klymene. On the stairs, however, she came upon Queen Rhea, who was also going upward. At sight of her a new thought took hold. Noble, righteous Rhea, Queen of the Gods-why should she not face the queen directly and tell her what her husband was trying to do? Normally she would never have sought her out, but coming upon her suddenly just now, the impulse was overpowering. Here was someone, she thought, who could exert a powerful influence in her favor. If she could only tell her story, she knew that the queen would receive her with understanding and sympathy.

The queen was climbing slowly. Philyra caught up with her and said, “Pardon, my lady. May I speak with you?”

Rhea turned to face her. One arm was pressed against her abdomen. She nodded. “For a few moments, yes. You are … ?”

“Philyra, a daughter of your brother Okeanos.”

Rhea nodded again. A peculiar look-recognition, perhaps, but mixed with something else-flickered over her face.

Philyra began to talk, slowly and awkwardly at first. Rhea listened without any outward indication of emotion.

“I cast myself on your mercy, my lady,” Philyra said at last. “Please help me if there’s any way you can,”

Though she had listened in silence, the mind of the Titaness had been anything but placid during the recital. She had recognized the Okeanid almost from the moment she turned to face her. This was the brazen creature who had breakfasted with her husband upon the terrace below the palace, then gone off with him-Kronos’s new toy. Holding herself very erect, Rhea met the young goddess’s eyes coldly.

“I don’t know why you come to me. Do you think I concern myself with every creature that catches Kronos’s eye? You have only yourself to blame if you’ve attracted more than you bargained for-though I certainly doubt that. Be gone from me.” Rhea gestured her away, a wilting look of contempt on her face.

Philyra gasped, then fled up the stairs, sobbing uncontrollably. Without thinking she headed for the chambers of Klymene. She had almost reached them when a goddess stepped toward her, hand raised in greeting.

“There you are,” Eurybie said, smiling as she walked toward her. “I’ve been searching for you.”

With a shriek Philyra fled into a neighboring corridor. She plunged down the first stairway she found. She had descended three flights before her strength gave out and she slumped down, still crying.

When she looked up she found to her surprise that she was not far from the apartment of Momos, where Metis kept the mortals. Glancing quickly about to be certain that no one was watching, she slipped from the stairwell into the corridor. A minute later she was safely within the apartment.

Quiet reigned. She paused to catch her breath and dry the tears from her eyes, then crossed the dust-covered atrium, passing quickly down a short hall. She opened a door and stepped into a small room.

Nothing moved. She looked about, searching for the tiny, godlike creatures she expected to find. Where were they? She took another step into the room, growing more apprehensive.

A mortal stepped from behind a concealing chest. “Greetings, Lady Philyra! You frightened us. Coming by the route you did, we were afraid you might be someone else-an enemy. ”

The goddess let out a long sigh of relief. Now other mortals came into the open. Philyra let herself drop into a chair.

“How may we serve you?” one of the men asked.

“I’m fine,” she said. “I need nothing, but to rest.” She looked about the room. An odd thrill ran through her; it seemed as if some force outside herself had led her here, to sanctuary.

She could stay in this forgotten room. She could remain on Olympos, free of Kronos and able to help Metis. She could continue to work for the good of her family.

Across the room one of the men succeeded in climbing up to the seat of a chair. He pulled free a coverlet, letting it slip to the floor. Beneath it, revealed now, was the head of Oizys, which the mortals had hastily veiled when they heard her approach.

The Okeanid gasped at the hideous sight of the god. The god’s eyes turned in her direction and fastened upon her, looking distinctly baleful.

Eleven

Rhea, queen of the gods, continued to climb slowly toward her own rooms after the departure of Philyra. Neither jealousy nor anger could completely pierce the serenity she had found on the slopes of Mount Parnassos. Her visit to her mother Gaia at Delphoi had acted as a balm to her troubled spirit, so that she could listen to the plea of the beautiful young Okeanid with at least partial equanimity.

She could listen without anger, but not without offended pride. Simply by accosting her the Okeanid had overstepped the bounds of decency. Could she really expect a sympathetic reception from the wife of her lover? However much she might protest to the contrary, she undoubtedly had encouraged Kronos to some extent, and in all likelihood the story she had told was but a subterfuge. Only by postulating some hidden motivation could Rhea explain the total lack of tact that brought the goddess to her.

In her room now, Rhea winced, moving her hands to cover her lower abdomen as she doubled forward in her chair. She had been waiting for this second contraction, which left no doubt that her time was at hand. She waited until the pain left her, let her breathing return to normal, then rose from her chair. She smiled to herself as she began her preparations.

Even now, within an hour or two of delivery, the most practiced eye could not have accurately diagnosed her pregnancy, so little had her girth increased. She paused to let her hands feel the movement within. Tonight she would hold her child in her arms. A feeling of well-being filled her, so that she had to force herself to complete preparations for her journey. Her mind whirled with wonderful reveries of the child that would soon enter the world.

At last she finished gathering her things into a large cloth sack. She carried the sack with her out onto the gallery. When she was certain that no one was nearby and could observe her, she grew wings and flew down from the palace.

The moon had just risen, a quarter moon that flooded the world with its soft, suppressed radiance. Flying leisurely, very much absorbed in her maternal dreams, the goddess followed a course that led due south. The cool night wind caressed her and the heavy smell of lush growing things rose up from the earth to greet her as she flew close above the fields and hills, often skimming just above the tallest trees in her attempt to avoid detection.

At last she came to the twin peaks of Mount Parnassos. She alighted near the great cleft in the earth. Nearby, Daphnis, the attendant, lay buried in deep slumber. As she neared the opening in the ground Rhea called out softly. The wind, echoing through a nearby gulf, seemed to answer.

From the cleft rose a mist, at first tenuous but quickly thickening. It twirled like an eddy, drawing particles of dust from nearby. As it grew the mist took on the distinctive features of a goddess. Infinite tenderness played in the smile upon her lips and her eyes held infinite compassion. Clothed in the image of a tall and stately goddess, robed in garments spun of silken night, Gaia, the earth, stepped toward Rhea and laid an affectionate hand upon her arm.

“Come, daughter; your time is at hand. All is in readiness, but we must not tarry.”

Mother and daughter rose into the air. They flew in silence, hand in hand, a million stars shining down on them out of the velvet blackness of the night. Far to the south lay the great sea, and still farther the mountainous, fertile island of Crete. It was here that Gaia led her daughter, to one of the many forest-covered mountain slopes. They alighted amid cypress and cedar.

A hush hung over the mountainside as they climbed the short distance upward, stepping over saplings and bending aside the larger trees that blocked their path. They soon arrived at the mouth of a great cavern. Two nymphs moved toward them as they approached.

“Greetings,” one said, bowing low. “I am Ida, the sister of Adrastia.”

She retreated and the second nymph advanced. She, too, bowed deeply. “I am Adrastia, the sister of Ida,” she told them, then backed away to rejoin her companion.

“They are here to attend you,” Gaia explained, still speaking in a soft, hushed voice that more closely resembled the singing breeze than the voice of a goddess, “and to care for your child.”

“We’ll care for it as though it were our very own,” Ida said.

“Indeed,” Adrastia agreed, “we’re anxious to serve you, my lady. Please come within.”

Rhea, her mind still very much in a daze, followed docilely as the nymphs led the way within the enormous cavern. A large stone hearth, ventilated by a small hole in the roof, lit the interior with a fitful light that made the rough walls and the peculiarly shaped outcroppings of rock seem like grotesque, petrified animals.

As they entered, a sleeping form stirred and rose to greet them. Adrastia gestured toward the creature.

“This is Amaltheia, the goat goddess.”

Amaltheia nodded her head demurely.

“She can’t speak-not very well, anyway. No one knows why a goddess should look like a god-size goat, but she does. She will yean soon, and will provide milk for the child of Kronos.”

Rhea nodded absently, both in acknowledgment of all that Adrastia had said and in greeting to the goat goddess.

A bed of thickly packed leaves had been prepared against one corner of the cavern.

“Come, my lady,” Ida said softly. “How foolish we are, not to realize you must be tired. Come, settle yourself and rest until the time arrives.”

She led the goddess past the birthing pole, which had been set up not far from the bed.

“How quiet it is tonight,” Adrastia said, as much to herself as to anyone. “Even in here, you can usually hear the crickets chirping down below. It’s so quiet-almost as though they, too, pay obeisance-“

“Quiet, sister,” Ida said. “Do try to imitate the crickets. You do prattle so.”

“I do! It’s true-I’m just so excited,” the nymph continued, laughing. “To care for the Queen of the Gods-to assist at the birth of a child of Lord Kronos-why, how could I be anything other than excited? And we shall care for the child, rear him, perhaps. I do hope it’s a son. A son of Kronos! Even though we must remain hidden for however long, it’ll be wonderful to hold the dear boy, to feed him on the milk of Amaltheia, to watch him crawl and take his first steps, hear his first awkward attempts at speech.”

“Quiet!” Ida insisted. “Can’t you tell you’re distressing Lady Rhea? Do you think she wants to leave her child with us, instead of rearing it herself? You’re dreadfully thoughtless, you know.”

“Oh, it’s true-I am. Do forgive me, Lady Rhea. I meant no meanness.”

Rhea looked up, having heard hardly a word spoken by the two nymphs. A golden euphoria lulled all her sensibilities, interrupted only by the clutching pains that were gradually coming more closely together. She smiled at Adrastia, then started to return to the dreamy pleasure of her own thoughts.

“Has a name been chosen yet?” Ida asked, attempting to change the subject and thus alleviate her sister’s embarrassment. “You should select a name for a son and another for a daughter.”

Gaia had been standing quietly in the shadows. She stepped unexpectedly toward them. “The child shall be male, and his name shall be Zeus. Call him that, and that only, though in days to come he shall have many names. Zeus Kronion, the Thunderer, the Wielder of the Lightning, the Wise, the Just, the Father of Gods and Men-all these names and a thousand more shall he be called, even to the God-but these names are not for you. Particularly must you not call him the son of Kronos, for terrible danger lurks in that name, even for him.”

The nymphs listened in astonished silence. When the great goddess had finished, Ida said: “Oh, yes, my lady. It shall be exactly as you say. To us he will always be Lord Zeus. No other name for him will pass our lips.”

The goat goddess Amaltheia shook herself. She rose unsteadily to her feet and came forward into the light of the fire, making low bleating sounds that had a plaintive tone to them. An anxious expression flickered in her wide yellow eyes.

“What’s troubling Amaltheia?” one of the nymphs asked. “Look. I think she’s trying to say something.”

Gaia stepped toward the goat goddess, holding up an imperious hand. “Be still, Amaltheia; your question, too, shall be answered. You, too, shall bear a male child. He, too, shall have many names, but only one that may safely be spoken here. Do you understand, Amaltheia? His name shall be Pan, and his shall be the wisdom of delight.”

The goat goddess hesitated, staring up at Gaia, then turned slowly and returned to the shadows, where she curled herself up on the hard floor. Lowering her head, she closed her eyes again. She yearned to say the very thing that Gaia seemed to be telling her not to reveal.

Part goddess, part divine beast, she thought but fuzzily. Resentment stirred within her. Why had she no nymphs to attend her? She could feel again the stirring of the unborn god within her, and now another of the clutching pains came to make her gasp and lie panting for breath. Her form was that of a beast, but she was a goddess nonetheless. Had she not proven herself as desirable as any goddess? Had she not procured for her unborn son a father inferior to none? She might be hideous, yet she had given her son a father of whom he might boast.

Let the nymphs buzz and flutter about Rhea. Amaltheia had her own secret, and with it she would console herself. It made her feel smug and very proud.

Nearly an hour passed, Rhea and Amaltheia each absorbed in her own thoughts. The contractions that precede childbirth came ever closer together, until the time of delivery arrived. The nymphs helped Rhea from her bed to the birthing pole. The Queen of the Gods disrobed, then grasped the pole tightly in her fingers and squatted beside it. Amaltheia, unassisted, stood alone, alternately constricting and relaxing the muscles that would force out her yeanling. The two goddesses moaned and panted uncontrollably.

Even in her travail, Amaltheia glanced across the cavern at the Titaness. Rhea grasped the pole with a force that made the muscles of her hands and arms stand out starkly. Her head was thrown back and sweat glistened on her face and naked body.

In childbirth, the goat goddess thought, even a goddess grunts and gasps like an animal. In childbirth, she is as much an animal as I!

At last the child of Rhea descended into the waiting hands of Adrastia and the child of Amaltheia dropped to the bare dirt floor of the cavern. The son of Rhea began to cry. The son of Amaltheia made a low bleating sound that might have been laughter.

“Oh, he’s wonderfully handsome!” Ida cried, peering over her sister’s shoulder. Gaia had joined them and Rhea, her work completed, rose slowly to her full stature and held herself erect with the help of the pole. Pushing aside sweat-drenched strands of hair from her face, she looked down at the infant.

“He is handsome,” Adrastia said. “How broad his forehead is-his hair will be black. See, he has a tuft or two already.”

“He has lovely gray eyes,” Ida said.

Rhea smiled contentedly. After a moment the nymphs noticed her and helped her back to her bed.

Amaltheia, as pleased as if she were the Queen of the Gods, lay on her side now, gently licking the smooth skin and soft fur of her child. He, too, was handsome, shaped like a god, with only the ears, legs, and tail of a goat. From his head protruded two tiny nubs that hinted of horns. He was very beautiful, and his mother nuzzled him toward her udders.

Gaia followed behind the nymphs, then stood to one side as they settled the Titaness in her bed of leaves. They had given the child to Gaia, who now placed him in his mother’s arms.

Ida and Adrastia bowed deeply as Gaia said softly, “All hail! Zeus, the son of Kronos, is born!”

Across the room the goat goddess nudged her son a little closer. Yes, she thought-and born, too, is Pan, the son of Kronos!

Twelve

Mothers and sons slept peacefully - Rhea on her thick mattress of fresh, soft leaves with her child cradled in one arm, the goat goddess Amaltheia on the bare floor of the cavern, her offspring beside her in the dust.

Deep in her dreamy reveries, vaguely aware of her surroundings only when drawn back toward full, unwelcome wakefulness by the gentle nuzzling of her infant son, Amaltheia let herself luxuriate in the warm, soft glow of maternal pride. She had earned the quiet joy to which she now abandoned herself.

“Pitiful thing!” they had called her. “Wretched, hideous creature!” Lithe and beautiful, sparkling in the morning dew, the naiads and dryads of the area in which she lived had never tired of amusing themselves at her expense. “Better to be a beast,” one was fond of saying, “than a goddess formed like a beast. Ugh! Such ugliness! And she thinks herself as fine as we… . Why, there isn’t a god on all the broad earth that would give her a second look-in the sea, on the earth, or under the earth!”

Their gay laughter rained upon her, crueler than a shower of thorned sticks. Missiles bounced harmlessly from the impenetrable pelt with which she was endowed, but their endless taunts gradually found their mark. Unaccustomed to any form of attention, at first she had laughed with them, trying to share the joke, even at her own expense. Her laughter was high-pitched and peculiar, like a goat trying to laugh, and the nymphs found it a wonderful excuse to guffaw wildly and collapse on top of one another, helpless with mirth.

They teased her mercilessly. She was a beast, a freak, a creature of such ugliness that no one would ever love her. How amusing she was, trying to be like other goddesses, interested in gossip and feminine things. “Come and sit with us, fair Amaltheia. Tell us, fair Amaltheia, have you found your lover yet? Is he tall and handsome? Does he walk on two legs, or four?”

Gibe followed gibe, often in an endless barrage, to the accompaniment of tittering merriment. Feminine cruelty, in all its barbed splendor, tortured her at every opportunity. Able to speak only with difficulty, the goat goddess found herself surrounded by laughter whenever she tried to respond. The nymphs found her even more amusing at such times, as she struggled to overcome her animal dullness.

Amaltheia came to avoid the nymphs. Their teasing drove her deeper into herself. She knew mere was much truth in what they said-inescapable truth-and the goat goddess began to roam farther away from her usual grazing places, an inarticulate anguish within her breast.

Gradually, over a very long period of time, an idea took hold within her dull mind. She was a goddess, and she should have the love of a god. Only that could disprove the cruel taunts. Like most goddesses, she could alter the form of her body, but only with difficulty and for a short time. She found it impossible to keep up her concentration for more than a minute or two, and as soon as she stopped concentrating, her body slipped back to its natural shape. Now she began to practice each day, assuming the form of a lovely maiden and maintaining it for as long as she could. Sitting for hours beside the mirrorlike surface of a pool, she recast her face, then her arms and upper torso, and finally her entire body. With practice she began to gain proficiency, so that eventually she could accomplish the transformation with little difficulty. Now she devoted herself to lengthening the time that she could maintain the transformation and to perfecting the new shape.

As other goddesses experimented with cosmetics, Amaltheia tested each possible feature, each angle at which her eyebrows might arch, each slightly different line of the mouth.

In time she settled on a face and lissome form of great beauty and naturalness. Each day, for an hour or a little longer, she would assume it and frolic among the hills and fields, running and laughing aloud as she pretended, for a little while at least, that she was a goddess like any other, not some peculiar freak of the divine order.

One day while in her new form she spied a god-a god whose size and bearing bespoke strength and majesty even at a great distance. She recognized him as he came nearer; even she, living far from divine society, knew Kronos, King of the Gods. She remembered her earlier resolve. But did she dare? This was not any god. As he approached she held her breath.

Yes, she would do it! She made up her mind, then refused to think further. She rose up suddenly from her hiding place, revealing her assumed body in all its undraped splendor. She smiled, and when he smiled back she turned to run, displaying another aspect of her charms.

The chase ended not far away in a cypress grove. After he had had his way with her, he fell asleep at her side. Unable to maintain her form much longer, she rose silently and slipped away.

Later that afternoon, grazing languidly in a broad meadow, she saw him pass not far off. While she was in her natural form, he paid no attention to her. He returned often over the following days, as if searching for someone, but she was afraid to reveal herself. She was very proud of her accomplishment. She had proven the nymphs wrong. Hers was not merely a divine lover, but a royal one. She was afraid, though, that Lord Kronos might be angry if he learned of her deceit, and so she only watched him from afar.

Now, with the birth of her son-the son of Kronos-she had living proof of her worth as a goddess. Even if Gaia had commanded her never to speak the name of the child’s father, at least she knew. That was enough. She could doze and dream peacefully.

While Amaltheia and Rhea dreamed their proud, golden dreams, Gaia slipped quietly from the cavern after whispering to the two nymphs. Outside she spread her wings and flew north, toward Olympos.

Behind the jutting peak of the palace stood the quarter moon, looking large and silver in the dark sky. The goddess flew directly to the room of the child goddess Metis. Entering by way of the outer gallery, she stepped through the potted plants that littered the floor and walked into the room.

Metis’s eyes popped open. She had not yet fallen asleep; her mind was too rilled with interesting ideas. She sat up, looking toward the intruder.

“Who-?”

“Quiet. You have finished, haven’t you? Where is the new food?”

The child stared at her unexpected visitor. Moonlight streamed in from the gallery to illuminate her features so that they were clearly visible. The goddess was slender and very delicate despite her height. She looked no older than a maiden.

“I haven’t much time, Metis. Will you not show me the plant? I can easily find it myself, if I must.”

“I’ve only just finished, a little while ago. Who are you? How do you know about … ?”

The great goddess ran the fingers of one hand through the girl’s dark shock of curly hair, and then Metis knew her.

“You are-!”

“No time for that, I tell you. Come. Show me the new plant.”

Metis complied, swinging herself out of bed. She crossed to where a patch of moonlight illuminated a large number of plants and herbs. She selected one and brought it back to the goddess.

“Here, my lady. Taste it, if you like. It’s very, very good. I’ve never before tasted anything like it, or as good.”

The goddess smiled, looking down at the golden stalks, iridescent in the moonlight. “You have done well-how well you cannot guess.” She broke off two stalks, then handed the plant itself back to the child. “In times to come this will be the sole food of the gods. They will call it ambrosia, and cease to eat mortal food. I must go now, Metis. Tell no one of my visit, for it does not really concern you.”

“Wait,” the child begged. “A moment longer, please. Tell me-am I right? Does mortal food act as a poison to the gods? Is that why a nymph has died?”

Gaia hesitated, then said, “There are mortal creatures and immortal ones-and creatures only partly immortal. The nymph whose body you have seen was one of these latter. She had a long, full life-a life of many thousands of years-but at last the mortality within overwhelmed her. She withered like the flowers of the field and died peacefully. Grieve not for her. It was time for her to die, nothing more.”

“Does mortal food then have no effect upon us?” Metis continued, determined to learn as much as she could before the great goddess departed.

Gaia smiled indulgently. “Had the nymph never tasted mortal food, she would have lived far longer, it is true. But in the end she would have withered nonetheless. Listen, child, this is life’s most important truth-each creature has its own law.”

“But you haven’t fully answered me,” the child insisted. “Are we-the gods-truly immortal? Will we live forever? Does it matter that we’ve eaten mortal food?”

Smiling down upon her and touching the child’s dark curls, the great goddess laughed softly. “Speak not of such things. Even mountains may be worn flat before the attrition of time. I will tell you this, though, and then you must ask no more questions, for I must go. Were you able to look upon the Titans as they were long ago, when first they reached maturity, and compare them with the way they are today, you would see that they have aged-not much, you understand. The hand of time has touched them-tenderly. Had they eaten no mortal food, but only nectar and ambrosia, time could not wither their features in a hundred thousand years. Good-bye, Metis.”

The goddess walked quickly to the window. Before Metis could delay her further, she opened her great wings and flew into the night. With her she carried portions of the plant she called ambrosia.

She flew far to the west, arriving at last on a verdant island that gleamed like an emerald. Here she alighted. Walking slowly, she broke the plant into many pieces and tossed them in many directions, commanding them to grow. Shoots began to rise from the ground.

Next she called aloud to the doves that were sleeping in trees nearby. They heard her, and soon the trees were alive with them.

“I charge you with an important task,” she whispered. “The soil of this lovely island is the most suited in all the world to grow the sweet ambrosia I have commanded to sprout here. Each day you will gather pieces of it and, before dawn-that none may see you-you will carry it in your beaks to lovely Crete with its high mountains. There, in a deep mountain cave, you will find a divine child, a child with gleaming, bright eyes and broad forehead. From your own beaks will you feed him sweet ambrosia, that he may never taste of perishable food. This I charge you!”

The doves cooed in assent. Gaia left them to return to the newborn god and his mother. The night was more than half gone and she had to hasten.

Thirteen

<proofers note: whole page snipped - not OCRd, and proofers pdf is of too low quality to read - perhaps tiff?>

as she noticed Amaltheia, the goat goddess, who was with difficulty rising to her feet.

“Stay, wonderful creature-do not rise for me. I must be parted from my new son, but no such hardship need be inflicted upon you, even for a moment. Lie down beside your son. I give you my thanks. Thank you, dear creature, for nursing my child for me.” Rhea’s voice quivered with emotion as she spoke.

Once again she started toward the entrance, Gaia almost at her side. Before she had taken three steps, she paused again, turning anxiously toward her mother.

“There may be searchers,” she said. “Someone may come, looking for him. …”

“He is well hidden here,” Gaia told her. “Fear not. All will be well.”

“We’ll be very careful, and look after him,” Ida said. “He’ll be well guarded.”

“Did you hear what Amaltheia suggested?” Adrastia asked, interrupting. “Poor thing, it was so difficult for her to get out the words. She said she would hang the crib of your son from a tree-that he might be found neither in heaven nor on earth.” The nymph laughed. “She’s well intentioned, at least.”

“And the Kouretes,” Ida said. “Someone might hear the child Zeus crying, and so find his hiding place. The Kouretes say they’ll dance and beat their spears against their shields, to drown out his voice. You see?” She grinned at Rhea. “All of these things have been thought of. Nothing has been neglected.”

“Thank you,” Rhea said softly. “Thank you all.”

“Come,” Gaia said, now standing beside her daughter and taking her by the arm.

“Yes, I’ll come. I so dread leaving him here, without me. It’s strange, isn’t it? You let me look into the future, but I’m still afraid. Why is that?”

“A mother always fears the future. Come. We must hurry.”

Outside, among the jagged rocks and towering trees, the Kouretes came toward them from among the shadows. Savage, almost naked creatures of divine form and stature, they advanced until they were only a few paces from the two goddesses. The points of their spears gleamed in the moonlight.

“These are the Kouretes?” Rhea asked.

“Yes. I summoned them here to guard the child. They are ferocious to enemies, but loyal to those they serve. Come this way, along the path.”

The creatures stepped aside to let the goddesses pass through their ranks. Rhea found herself led partway down the mountain slope. They stopped beside an outcropping of rocks. Gaia selected a stone nearly the size of the child they had left within the cavern, then wrapped about it the blanket she had been carrying.

“With this stone you will deceive your husband.”

Drawing down mist from above them, she cast an image about the stone, giving it the semblance of the child Zeus. When the image was complete, she passed the bundle into Rhea’s arms. The Titaness looked at the cooing, helpless creature, and tears welled into her eyes.

“Now all is complete,” Gaia said. “I will accompany you back to Olympos, but once there I must leave you. Everything will depend upon you then, upon how well you can convince your husband that this stone is, indeed, his newborn son.”

Rhea looked up slowly, her eyes glinting with hate. “I will convince him!”

They flew back to the palace. On the gallery just outside Rhea’s apartment, the two exchanged kisses. Gaia departed into the night, and the Titaness was left suddenly alone, holding the blanket-wrapped illusion that must somehow save her newborn son from the unknown fate that had already claimed his unlucky brothers and sisters. How like her own real child it looked, alert and bright-eyed, kicking and waving its tiny arms in the air. It would save one child-but what of the others? What had Kronos done with them?

A grim smile touched her face. As you have overthrown your father, so shall you be overthrown! she thought suddenly-triumphantly. With that terrible prophecy Kronos justified taking her children from her, and with this lie formed of mist and stone she would bring about its fulfillment!

Carrying the phantom in her arms, she made her way furtively up the single flight of stairs to the floor of the Lord of the Titans. It was very late and she expected to find no one about; still she must be careful. Kronos would be furious if anyone saw her carrying the infant. She had to be careful, too, that he had no visitor with him in his bedchamber.

She found him asleep, and alone. Returning to an adjoining room, she lit a large lamp and carried it back.

Kronos stirred, then sat up suddenly. “Who-? Oh, it’s you, Rhea. It must be very la-“

His eyes fell upon the blanket-wrapped burden in her arms and rested there for a short while. Finally, still not having spoken further, he rose and stood beside her. Rhea threw back the blanket to reveal the face of the child. Then she held her burden out to him.

Kronos hesitated, as though unwilling to accept it.

“I have obeyed you, husband,” she said quietly.

He hesitated a few moments longer, then took the infant from her. She began to back away from him.

“But remember,” she continued, her voice rising, “no one, not even the King of the Gods, can avoid what must be. I obey you, husband-and I curse you!” Turning suddenly, she fled from the room.

For some minutes after Rhea left him, Kronos watched the dark doorway through which she had disappeared. A movement of the infant in his arms eventually broke through his thoughts. He went to the atrium and bolted the outer doors of the apartment. Then he carried the child back to his bedroom.

Behind him Rhea came out of her hiding place. She had opened and closed the outer door but not exited. She crept after him until she found a place from which she could see into the room. He was facing away from her, toward the bed, where he had laid the infant that was really a stone.

The phantom cooed and gurgled as Kronos lifted it high above his head. At the same moment he caused his body to change. It expanded, became pliant. His head and chest bulged. His mouth distended, became enormous. He held the child above him for an instant, then thrust the wriggling thing down his giant maw.

Rhea gasped, covering her mouth with her hand; but Kronos did not hear her. He was too absorbed in what he was doing.

He shoved it down and swallowed, forcing the stone deep down into himself. With a loud moan he collapsed to his knees, then to the floor, and lay there, his belly bloated.

Rhea stifled the shrieks of horror that screamed within her and staggered back to the atrium, an awful nausea forcing her to double over as she ran. She left the apartment by way of the outer gallery and somehow managed to fly to the floor below.

In her own room her mind began to clear a little. This was what he had done with her other children. It was a horror beyond belief-but what did it mean?

Her children were immortal. They could not be killed. Somehow they must still be alive within that enormous body of their monstrous father. He had devoured them, but could not consume them.

They were divine-imperishable-indigestible! Had he banished them, they might in time return. Imprisoned, they might yet escape. Kronos could trust only one prison to hold them, only one jailer to keep eternal vigilance-himself.

In time, probably within only a few hours, his massive body would accommodate itself to the presence of its new prisoner and return to its normal form-though it might be a little taller, a iittle more massive.

In the darkness of her room, Rhea cried.

Fourteen

The the Naiad Nalassa, far beneath the sea, life had never been so wonderful. Even among the great gods, complete happiness is a rare and elusive treasure. The happiness of the water nymph exceeded all she had ever dared to hope for, even in her youthful daydreams.

In the cool splendor of the coral palace of King Nereus, she and Proteus became a world unto themselves. Hand in hand they swam among the lazily waving fronds of the sea-bottom orchards; wrapped in each other’s arms, they dozed and dreamed. Her life seemed full and real in a way it never had before. His kisses were more tangible than all the massive limestone of Olympos. His strong arms, when they held her, made her forget her parents, her sisters, everything but him.

The extent of her happiness, when she paused to analyze it, completely amazed her. Never before had she felt so truly alive-when he was near her. His absence cast her into despair and created waves of longing that wracked her cruelly. When he returned after the shortest of absences, her joy could not be contained. She threw herself into his arms, clutched him to her fiercely.

Day followed day, slipping away, gilded by the intensity of her love. Occasionally troubling thoughts crept into her mind. She knew that vital matters awaited Proteus on Olympos and felt that she was responsible for keeping him from fulfilling his obligations to his sisters and family. As heavily as this weighed upon her, a second concern troubled her even more.

His love resulted from the bewitching influence of Aphrodite. The naiad felt she had won his love unfairly and was afraid that in time Aphrodite’s unnatural influence would wear off, or that he would discover the trick she had played upon him and hate her for it. She worried, but not overly much, for she was as fully bewitched as Proteus and incapable of concentrating her mind on such things for long. Love was too distracting.

Finally she came unexpectedly upon Aphrodite and confided to the child the terrible fear she felt. The little goddess answered scornfully.

“Foolish nymph! Of course he really loves you. We’ve opened his eyes and made him realize it, nothing more,” she assured the naiad. “Do you not know that there are two forms of love, one leading to the other? I merely helped you awaken his passions. He had barricaded his heart, but we overcame his defenses. Since then his love has grown deep and full-beyond anything I could control or contrive, beyond the most violent of passions. Look deep into his eyes when next you’re with him. He can never hate you now, unless you spurn him. Fear not. His heart is yours as long as you wish it. You have completed what I only began.”

It was not difficult for Aphrodite to convince her; she wanted to be convinced. To believe that Proteus loved her for herself-that was true happiness!

Her other fear was not so easily quelled. Each day she became more aware of the duty that called him back to Olympos. Soon it was impossible for her to ignore it longer. She made up her mind to approach him on the subject, however much she dreaded his departure. She waited until afternoon, when they swam together through one of the underwater gardens surrounding the palace of Nereus.

“Have you decided what must be done? The wedding of Lord Crios and Lady Eurybie grows near.”

He nodded silently, not answering.

“Oh, Proteus,” she cried suddenly, unable to contain herself any longer. “I so dread being parted from you, but I know I must not keep you. I feel guilty. I’ve been so happy, but I’ve kept you here while others need you desperately. …”

Reaching out, he stroked her hand. “It isn’t your fault. I haven’t completely forgotten Kronos, if that’s what you’re thinking, Nalassa … as much as I wish I could forget. I suppose I’ve been hoping some scheme would present itself….”

“What will you do? Only four days remain until the new moon. So little time…”

He leaned toward her. “I will kiss you, and spend tonight with you. Then in the morning I’ll return to Olympos-well, no, not in the morning. I must travel there by night, to avoid being seen, so I’ll leave tomorrow evening.”

Her body grew tense as he spoke. “Let me go with you,” she pleaded.

“To Olympos? No. That would be very foolish indeed.”

She threw her arms around him and kissed him passionately. “I can’t bear to be parted from you now that I’ve found you,” she whispered. “Please, don’t leave me.”

“Only danger awaits you there. I dare not take you back. It’s far too dangerous.”

She clung to him for a long time. Finally, drawing away a little, she said, “But where shall I go, then? Soon the gods will begin arriving for the wedding. I won’t be safe here, either.”

“We’ll have to find some other place for you to stay until I can rejoin you. Nalassa, let’s put these thoughts from our minds for tonight. This is our last night here in the Kingdom of Nereus. Tomorrow we’ll leave together and search out a haven for you.”

“And tomorrow evening,” she said sadly, “you’ll leave me there while you continue on to Olympos-and such danger as I dare not imagine.”

“Quiet, Nalassa,” he said softly. “Tomorrow will come soon enough. …”

“I won’t be able to think of anything but you while you’re gone.”

“Quiet,” he repeated. “We need not speak of those things till then.” He drew her to him again and held her in his arms.

She smiled. “You’re right. If this must be our last night here, then it must be even more wonderful than all the others. We must make it last a very long time.”

They clung to each other. Afternoon passed into evening, evening into night.

In the morning they said their lengthy good-byes to Nereus and his family. An escort of beautiful Nereids accompanied them from the palace. Others, swimming about the high towers, waved farewell. When their escort finally turned back, they swam on hand-in-hand, phosphorescent fish surrounding them and lighting their way.

During most of the journey they both remained silent. Time and again Nalassa glanced at her companion, and each time she found on his face a look of preoccupation. She knew he must be thinking of what awaited him on Olympos and so did not intrude on his thoughts. She was happy merely to be near him. To swim at his side through the cool, silent depths was enough. Her heart swelled with love and joy every time she glanced at his handsome face and sleek, perfect body.

They came ashore about sixty miles southeast of Mount Olympos. Here the high cliffs of a mountain shielded them from divine scrutiny, should any of the gods happen to peer in their direction. Not far away innumerable bluffs and canyons provided ample hiding places for the naiad should she have to run for safety.

“This will do nicely,” Nalassa said, “if we can find a good cave in which I may sleep. The stream over there will give me fresh water to drink, and those look like fruit trees in the distance-all safely hidden from divine spies. It’ll do wonderfully. Don’t you think so?”

They were standing together high up on a steep slope, looking out over the rugged vista that surrounded them.

“The river over there, cutting through the gorge, reminds me of home,” she continued, looking up at him now. When he made no reply, she asked, “Is something wrong, my lord? You’re very quiet.”

He made a sudden movement, as though startled from his thoughts. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what it is. Ive had a peculiar feeling since we’ve been here.” He paused for a moment, still looking out over the rocky terrain. “I wish I didn’t have to leave you. I feel uneasy about it.”

“I feel uneasy, too, my lord. It’s because I can’t be with you for a few days. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be very careful. You may look down from Olympos and search these rocks for my form, but never will you see me. That I promise you. I’ll be more cautious than the antelope, more timid than the hare.”

They continued climbing the mountain, until at last they found a suitable cave.

“This is lovely,” she said. “It’s almost like having my own humble Olympos from which I can look down on my own quarter of the world.”

His expression betrayed his continued concern.

“Oh, please, my lord,” she said, coming close aad resting her face against his chest. ‘ ‘It’s so hard for me to let you go. But I know you must, and so I’m resolved. You must be resolved too; you can’t afford to let even a small portion of your mind be distracted from your business on Oiympos. Set your mind and heart at ease. All will be fine with me. Look!”

As he watched, smiling despite his dejection, she began to act out a pantomime.

“See, this is how I’ll creep to the entrance of the cave and peer out-looking first in this direction and then in that, to be sure that no one is about. Then I’ll scurry from rock to rock, uiitii I reach the stream. After I’ve drunk I’ll look carefully again, and then make my way down toward the forest to pick fruit. Oh, my lord!” she said, beginning to laugh gaily. “Oh, Proteus, my love, set your heart at rest. All shall be fine.”

They sat together for some time. Later, in the afternoon. he went with her down to the forest to search for food. Finally twilight came and it was time for them to part.

“I must go,” he said sadly, taking her in his arms.

She nodded, nestling closer.

He kissed her long and tenderly, then drew away. They walked out onto the ledge in front of the cave and stood together silently, both seeking to postpone his departure.

“Look,” she said, pointing toward a herd of animals grazing in one of the canyons. “Horses. I love horses. Now I’ll be able to amuse myself, by watching them.”

He could delay no longer. Kissing her a final time, he pulled away and immediately transformed himself. In the form of a gull he flew toward Olympos.

The river nymph sat upon the ledge, watching until he was lost from sight. Then with a sigh she looked back toward the horses, which had moved closer to the forest at one edge of the canyon. A slow-moving brook meandered out of the forest, edged on either side by slender, bowed trees.

The trees reminded her of home and made her homesick for the lovely willow-banked streams in which she loved to swim. At the same time she realized that she could never find happiness there again-that she could never be happy without Proteus beside her.

Fifteen

The same morning that Proteus and Nalassa took leave of the palace of Nereus beneath the deep Aegean, Kronos returned to his private quarters to find a messenger awaiting him. Perched on the high back of a chair, the creature croaked softly and began to flutter its still damp wings and twitch its fishlike tail.

At first the King of the Gods mistook the phantom messenger for one of his own eagle servitors. Each morning since the disappearance of the Okeanid Philyra, he had charged a dozen or more of these birds to soar across the sky, scrutinizing the earth below for any sign of her. For four days now they had searched in vain, returning to perch on the gallery outside the personal quarters of their master. Here they would screech out their reports of failure and receive the scraps of food the god gave them in payment of their labor.

Thinking one or more of these birds had returned, Kronos strode quickly across the large room. He stopped short, just before reaching the wide window that opened onto the gallery, and muttered a cross oath as he recognized his mistake. Snatching up the creature, he clutched it tightly in one hand and stared down at it.

“Speak!” he commanded.

“From Phorkys and Keto, brother and sister of King Nereus,” the creature said shrilly, “to Lord Kronos, mightiest of the Titans and king of all the gods: Greetings! We send this messenger to you from the depths of the Aegean to tell you that this very morning Proteus, the son of Okeanos, has departed, taking with him his companion, the naiad Nalassa. Where he goes, we do not know, except that he leaves the Kingdom of Nereus, our brother. We know no more. We await your instructions.”

“That is all?” Kronos demanded of the phantom.

The creature squawked and began to repeat its message. “From Phorkys and Keto, brother and-“

“Enough,” Kronos said gruffly, tossing the messenger aside roughly, so that it had to twist frantically about in the air and flap its wings rapidly to avoid colliding with a table. After a few moments difficulty it regained its perch on the back of a chair.

Kronos threw himself down in another chair and let himself sink deep into thought. Proteus had arrived in Nereus’s realm accompanied by the naiad Nalassa, who had mysteriously disappeared while in the custody of Thanatos. For this reason, Kronos had no doubt that the ocean god had been here on Olympos ten days ago-when Aigaion, also, had vanished. More importantly, this son of his greatest enemy had been here secretly, without revealing himself to the Titan. Undoubtedly he was acting as an agent of his father and in direct opposition to Kronos. The Titan could not be certain how much Proteus had learned while he was here, but the fact that he had continued on from Olympos to the Kingdom of Nereus made Kronos deeply suspicious.

He shrugged. Proteus’s return made no real difference to him, except perhaps to leaven the monotony of his daily existence. He was surrounded by enemies, often unable to separate friend from foe. He could trust only in his own powers; they had always proven ample protection against his adversaries. A many-layered web of intrigue surrounded the Lord of the Titans and all his projects. Let Proteus seek as he might to penetrate them; inevitably he would become hopelessly ensnared.

Yet there were other strands that still might be spun….

For a number of minutes Kronos remained in his thick cushioned chair, brooding upon these things. Finally he arose, shaking off introspection as a lion shakes off rain when the storm has ended. He made his way out of his own quarters, toward the outer corridor.

Before descending the stairway he decided to look in upon Thanatos. Thoughts of Proteus had led him to remember the sick god, and so he went quickly to the chambers of the son of Nyx. He had no sooner entered the atrium of the apartment than he began to wish he had not come; the stench of vomit was very strong. Nevertheless he persevered, quickly crossing the atrium and making his way to the bedroom of the god. He found Thanatos just as he hod last seen him, a number of days before. Stretched on the bed, dressed just as he-had been when he took sick, he lay in a lifeless mass. Ill-smelling sheets, pushed into crumpled heaps, surrounded the god.

Kronos hesitated, wanting to flee the room yet fearing that Thanatos might even be dead. Never before had he known a god to be sick for this length of time. Sickness of any kind was an anomaly. Reluctantly he approached still more closely, until he could look down into the face of the emaciated creature. He bent closer, watching and listening intently. At last he stood up and backed away from the inert form, having satisfied himself that Thanatos was indeed still alive.

Outside of the apartment, he inhaled deeply the fresh air of the corridor, then descended the stairway and headed toward the workshop of Iapetos. As he neared the floor on which the chambers of the sea goddess Eurybie were located, however, he changed his mind and went first to speak with her.

He found her still dressed as she had been at breakfast, in a flowing peplos of finest silk, colored deepest purple.

“Greetings, my lord. Come in. Be seated,” she told him. “I’m pleased to see you again so soon. Such attention flatters me more than any mere verbal compliment. It tells me you really do value my company.” her broad smile gleamed.

“I couldn’t inquire this morning because of the others who ate with us,” he said: “what did you learn from Klymene? Has she heard from Philyra? Does she know her whereabouts? ”

Eurybie’s grin became even broader. “My lord!” she exclaimed. “It was only last night that you first asked me to seek her out again-last night, shortly before I went to bed. You saw me this morning at breakfast. When have I had time to carry out your mission? I haven’t even seen her since last ni-“

“She was at breakfast. She ate with her husband and family, and with her younger sister. What is that child’s name?”

“You mean Metis,” Eurybie said. “Come, sit beside me. Do you intend to stand at the door the whole time we talk?”

“Yes,” he said. “I can stay only a few moments. I have other things to attend to.”

“Then by all means take care of them. You think too much about the Okeanid. I can’t understand why you don’t simply forget her-especially now, when we’re only a few days from the fulfillment of our ambitions.”

Kronos made a noise deep in his throat that was almost a laugh. “I have many ambitions, not a single one. I want you to go to Klymene as soon as possible and ask-“

Eurybie was shaking her head. “My lord, please put aside such thoughts. You’re letting your desire for the Okeanid become an obsession. You have so many things to think about, to deal with-imperative things-things of utmost importance. …”

“Yes, Lady Eurybie,” he said, “and I’m very much aware of all of them. You will please do as I ask. See if there is any more you can learn about Philyra. And don’t forget the younger sister, young …”

“Metis, my lord.”

“Yes, young Metis. She may very well know something about Philyra’s disappearance.”

“Yes, my lord. It shall be as you command,” Eurybie said softly, dissatisfied but resigned.

Kronos left her and continued on toward the workshop of his brother, the Titan Iapetos. Before he had gone very far, a shapeless mass stirred ahead of him on a stone bench. A gray form rose up and a puffy face appeared from amid the wrinkled folds of a faded cloak.

It was Momos, who never tired of finding outrageous things to complain about to the King of the Gods. He had the habit of falling asleep wherever he happened to be in the palace.

His own apartment went unused because it was always too far away when he felt sleepy.

“Greetings,” Kronos said as he drew near the paunchy, rumpled god. “Have you anything of which you wish to inform me? Is everything here on Olympos to your satisfaction today?”

Momos blinked and rubbed his bleary eyes. “I should say not, Lord Kronos. You still have not attended to these floors. They have wakened me yet again.”

“Oh, yes, I recall now-loud marble that slaps too hard against walking feet. My heavy footsteps have disturbed your slumber. I fear I forgot to pursue this problem. I shall have to see what can be done.”

The gods parted, Momos gathering himself up and walking unsteadily in the opposite direction, nodding his head and muttering to himself.

Kronos knew that Iapetos was spending even more time than usual away from his family chambers, and so he did not look there for him. Instead he made his way to the lower levels of the palace.

Outrage, resentment, and hate all smoldered within Iapetos since he had seen and overheard what he thought to be his wife Klymene and her brother Proteus. With each day since then his resentment had grown deeper and more difficult to control and conceal. Before, when Klymene was indisputably his, he had been madly in love with the Titaness Themis; now he seldom thought of the other goddess. The wife he had loved-however divided that love might have been-had cruelly deceived him, had encouraged him to build his life on a lie. The revelation left a deep, festering wound. Now his thoughts centered on getting her back-that he might cast her aside for the terrible wrong she had done him.

Brooding upon such thoughts, Iapetos heard the muffled sounds of his brother entering the outer room of his workshop. Laying aside the project upon which he was working, he went to meet the unexpected visitor.

“Greetings, brother,” he said as he recognized Kronos in the dim light of that portion of the workshop.

Kronos raised his right hand in reply and nodded his broad head. “Greetings to you, too, my brother. I haven’t seen you for some days now, though I meant to be especially solicitous of you. We’re most vulnerable to these we love. The more we Jove, the more vulnerable we are. I know from what you told me that you had a terrible shock, one that’s left you stunned and inconsolate. For this reason I wanted to give you time to recover. Still, I must say that I was not surprised. I think you didn’t fully believe me when I fold you that our brother Okeanos plotted against us-yes, us, both you and me as well as all the other gods of Olympos. You weren’t prepared for the depths of his perfidy. Even I find it hard to believe that Klymene, whom I always loved as a sister, could be so deceitful.”

Kronos moved to place a consoling hand upon his brother’s shoulder, but Iapetos turned away.

“Forgive me,” Kronos continued after a moment. “I set; it hurts you to even talk about the subject. We’ll spŤ?ak of other things. Tel! me, what project occupies you today?”

They walked through a series of connected room?, coming at last to a number of benches arranged to form a long U-shaped table. From a central chair Iapetos could turn his attention to any area of the workbench.

“At least you have work to occupy you,” Kronos said, glancing about the room.

!n one corner, turned upside down, Iny a divan in need of repair. One of its legs had to be replaced. On the workbench, almost side by side, lay a delicate golden wreath, nearly complete, and a dozen spearheads that awaited final tempering.

Kronos examined one of the spearheads. “You’ve changed the shape slightly. I think you’ve flared the line toward the rear more.”

“Yes. They’re for Hyperion and that’s what he wanted.”

“I’d like to see them when you’ve finished. I might want to commission a few for myself.”

“As you please, my lord.”

“Good. Good.” Kronos fel! silent for a few moments, then said, “Brother. I dislike having to return to a subject, which I know to be particularly painful; nevertheless, it’s necessary to do so.”

Iapetos faced him, emotionless.

“It’s difficult to hold a god prisoner,” Kronos said, speaking slowly and moving about the room. Much of the time his back was toward Iapetos. “It’s ever so much more difficult, though, to capture a god who is unsurpassed at changing his form. I fear that may not be possible.”

“Unsurpassed at changing his form,” Iapetos repeated slowly. “I know of only two gods who are especially proficient at shape changing, King Nereus and Proteus, the accursed brother of my wife. Of those two, it’s said that Proteus is the more accomplished. Is it he you mean? What of him? Why do you ask this question?”

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