Hermes wasn't able to take Hekate and Kabeiros anyplace in Ka'anan. He had never been there and could not find a home port. However, he was able to leap them to the docks of a PORT 75,111,35,186,193,159 ekate had selected the precise area into which to settle, unceremoniously pulling loose the bindings and dumping his pack. Hekate stood looking after him, but only for a moment. Then she set up her camp, prepared her meal, and wondered what she would do if he didn't return. Here in Ka'anan Kabeiros didn't need to communicate to anyone. He could find the caves of the dead and be a man without any of the useless help she offered.
She need not have concerned herself about being abandoned. Dusk was just turning into dark when Kabeiros came back, dragging the body of one of the local small deer.
He dropped it by the fire and said, *I must go to the caves of the dead. I cannot be a dog any longer. This should be meat enough to last you to wherever you wish to go; there's no need for you to come with me. I know the way.*
An icy hollow formed between Hekate's breast bone and her belly. Kabeiros wanted to be rid of her completely. She sat for a moment, looking into the fire, and trying to find sufficient pride to say "go." But pride was a cold, lonely thing and Hekate had been bitterly lonely for most of her life. Being with Kabeiros was never lonely, even when he was angry and wouldn't open his mind to her. He was there.
"Don't be ridiculous," Hekate said, struggling not to pant with terror. "I must go to the caves of the dead with you or without you. It's true that no spy will report seeing Hekate, Perses' daughter, in Byblos and I'll try to go around as far from Ur-Kabos as I can, but both the valley of the Nymphae and Dionysos' aunt's house are well within the distance Perses can scry. If I am in this area more than a day or two, he will sense my aura. The only place I can be safe, if it takes Dionysos more than a few hours to reach me, is the caves of the dead."
The hound made no immediate reply, and Hekate drew her knife and began to butcher his kill. She laid the head and the entrails on a mat of small branches of brush, cut off the lower legs and added those, then divided what remained of the carcass into four smaller pieces and cast a spell of stasis on the meat so she could carry it without spoilage. Kabeiros watched her from across the fire for a while, and then lay down, his head on his paws turned away from her.
It was all Hekate could do when every task was finished not to lie down beside him and weep into his soft, thick fur. She wondered how fate could be so cruel as to make one partner of an oath-bound pair love deeply while the other was tormented by the closeness and only longed to be free. In her misery and because she found Kabeiros' gorging on the brains, intestines, and other organs revolting, she never noticed that the dog had not eaten.
They remained by the fire, silent, until dull misery numbed Hekate and she lay down on her bedroll and slept, waking in the morning with tears on her cheeks, although she had no memory of her dreams. She gathered up her supplies, rolled the bedroll, strapped on Kabeiros' pack, and set out north and east into the mountains.
While aboard ship, she had asked Kabeiros what he thought they should do. Receiving no reply, she abandoned any attempt to draw him into a discussion. By the time they came ashore, she had decided to go first to the valley of the Nymphae to discover whether they had any way of communicating with Dionysos. She could Call him, but when she thought of doing so, her heart clenched within her. What if Perses should hear and recognize her Call?
Hekate told herself she was a fool. She had never known a Call to be intercepted. There was no reason her father should be listening—if that was even possible. As far as she knew, he wasn't aware of Dionysos' existence or of her connection to Dionysos. She had always visited him as a side to be free. In her misery and because she found Kabeiros' gorging on the brains, intestines, and other organs revolting, she never noticed that the dog had not eaten.
They remained by the fire, silent, until dull misery numbed Hekate and she lay down on her bedroll and slept, waking in the morning with tears on her cheeks, although she had no memory of her dreams. She gathered up her supplies, rolled the bedroll, strapped on Kabeiros' pack, and set out north and east into the mountains.
While aboard ship, she had asked Kabeiros what he thought they should do. Receiving no reply, she abandoned any attempt to draw him into a discussion. By the time they came ashore, she had decided to go first to the valley of the Nymphae to discover whether they had any way of communicating with Dionysos. She could Call him, but when she thought of doing so, her heart clenched within her. What if Perses should hear and recognize her Call?
Hekate told herself she was a fool. She had never known a Call to be intercepted. There was no reason her father should be listening—if that was even possible. As far as she knew, he wasn't aware of Dionysos' existence or of her connection to Dionysos. She had always visited him as a side trip to gathering herbs and had been careful never to carry a watcher with her. Her reasoning was all useless; Hekate found her body was slick with cold sweat.
She berated herself for her fear. It was ridiculous to fear Perses when she had outfaced Medea and the Olympian gods. Surely he was not a stronger mage than Aietes or Medea and the Olympian Gifts were more dangerous than spells, which took time to cast. Even as she tried to reassure herself, her breath came shorter and harder and her steps quickened. Suddenly a cold nose was thrust into her hand.
*The caves of the dead are safe,* Kabeiros said. *And there's no smell of magic anywhere.*
She kept her mind closed because she feared that if she opened it to answer him all that would come across would be a babble of senseless terror, but she clutched the loose skin on Kabeiros' neck gratefully and pulled him closer so she could keep one arm around him. He endured it for a time, but since no one can live in a peak of terror for very long, Hekate's panic soon subsided and Kabeiros slid away.
They stopped at noon to rest and eat and again at dusk, but Hekate did not unpack more than the food for the meal and didn't unroll thunable to balance himself on two legs when he had spent so many years walking on four.
Instinctively Hekate clutched at anything she could grab, which was not very helpful since it was Kabeiros' body and that was falling with her. Fortunately, he had already put out his hands to catch himself, so Hekate only struck the ground with her own weight and a little of his. Still it was enough to knock the wind out of her, and she lay, gasping for breath, enough stunned to continue to hold tight to Kabeiros.
The midsummer day on which they had started the last part of their journey had been mild and, although the night was much cooler than the day, they had been walking fast, so Hekate had never felt chilled. She had been wearing only a thin, Egyptian linen undertunic, and a light wool overtunic under her cloak, which was thrust back over her shoulders. The cloak, bunched behind her, had softened her fall, but both tunics had been twisted and raised, leaving her mostly naked.
"Let me go," Kabeiros groaned. "For the Mother's sake, let me go."
"Let you go?" Hekate repeated in a tone of delighted surprise. It had become apparent to her while she was catching her breath, that the bare male flesh pressed against her was in a state of high arousal. Hekate giggled. "Not for the Mother's sake. She approves heartily of the coupling of man with maid."
"You idiot! Not this man with this maid."
Hekate's arms trembled, but she couldn't release her precious burden. Was it possible that the Mother had touched Kabeiros and forbidden him to love her? Without forbidding her?
"The Mother?" she asked doubtfully. "When did She forbid us? I've been at Her shrine many times, and you were with me. I never felt any coldness. How could She touch you so strongly that you felt unwelcome and I didn't know? Why didn't you tell me, Kabeiros?"
"Stop asking questions and let me go."
A suspicion began to tickle Hekate. "Are you claiming the Mother's disapproval for some reason of your own?"
"You fool! How can you desire a dog?"
Hekate giggled again. "You aren't a dog now," she whispered, and wriggled her hips.
Kabeiros gasped. "Stop. Let me explain."
"Later," she breathed into his ear. "As we are now, you will make no sense and I will hear no sense, no matter what you need to say. One coupling doesn't make a life bonding nor break one. Let us content each other now. Later we'll talk."
They did no talking, however, until long past the next morning. After the explosive release of their passion atop the long day's march, Hekate and Kabeiros slept as they were, still joined, until the pressure of Kabeiros' weight began to crush Hekate. She stirred under her burden, seeking relief, and woke Kabeiros. Half asleep, he half understood the problem and turned with her so that she now lay atop him.
Now, however, her cloak fell over his face. In trying to push it aside so he could breathe, the pin came loose and he pushed off the cloak entirely. Willingly misunderstanding, Hekate lifted herself just enough to pull off both over and undertunic. Kabeiros made an indistinct sound of protest, but it was too late. The wall of restraint he had raised had been breached already and Hekate's squirming stirred him in another way. Breathing hard, he seized her hips and began to move them. It took no time at all for Hekate to realize what was going on and begin to cooperate fully. Their second mating was less violent, but no less satisfying.
Some time later even Kabeiros' tougher body began to feel bruised. He tried to escape Hekate's embrace without waking her but did not succeed. She was frightened at first, thinking he intended to leave her, and gripped him fiercely, but he assured her he only wanted to get the blankets to make them a little more comfortable. By the time those were pulled free of the packs and spread on the floor, both were awake enough to feel renewed desire and also guilt for the almost impersonal hunger with which they had mated.
Neither knew what to say. Hekate was terrified that if she confessed love to the man, Kabeiros would flee her entirely. She could tell from his heightened color and averted glance that he was embarrassed, but she was afraid to ask why. Tentatively, she took his hand and, when he didn't pull away, drew him down beside her. After only the most token resistance he sat . . . close enough so their thighs touched. Hekate stroked his face and pressed her lips to his shoulder. He pushed aside her wealth of blonde curls and kissed her nape. Her hand slid down his body, stroked his thigh; his found her breast. Not long after, they were coupled again.
Some time later even Kabeiros' tougher body began to feel bruised. He tried to escape Hekate's embrace without waking her but did not succeed. She was frightened at first, thinking he intended to leave her, and gripped him fiercely, but he assured her he only wanted to get the blankets to make them a little more comfortable. By the time those were pulled free of the packs and spread on the floor, both were awake enough to feel renewed desire and also guilt for the almost impersonal hunger with which they had mated.
Neither knew what to say. Hekate was terrified that if she confessed love to the man, Kabeiros would flee her entirely. She could tell from his heightened color and averted glance that he was embarrassed, but she was afraid to ask why. Tentatively, she took his hand and, when he didn't pull away, drew him down beside her. After only the most token resistance he sat . . . close enough so their thighs touched. Hekate stroked his face and pressed her lips to his shoulder. He pushed aside her wealth of blonde curls and kissed her nape. Her hand slid down his body, stroked his thigh; his found her breast. Not long after, they were coupled again.
They woke easily, almost simultaneously, near noon, and, still wordless but with gentle and sustained caresses, they made love once more. It was a lovemaking that knew no need for haste or greedy grasping. In silence it acknowledged that this was not the last time, that love would come again. Replete but not exhausted, they rested, content to be silent and together, until Kabeiros, gazing idly over Hekate's head, stiffened somewhat in surprise.
"Look," he said, "the trees have nearly no shadows. The sun must be almost overhead."
Hekate yawned and stretched, accidentally pushing away the cape that had covered them, which exposed Kabeiros' chest. She smiled to herself and tickled his nipple. He caught his breath, pulled away, and sat up, pulling the cloak around him. This, of course, left Hekate exposed. Reaching out hastily, Kabeiros found her undertunic and handed it to her. She blinked at it, as if she wasn't sure what to do with it.
"Put it on," Kabeiros said. "You'll be all over gooseflesh in another moment. And I'd better see if I can find a tunic or some cloth among the offerings." He started to rise and then sank back, knees shaking as if his legs wouldn't support him.
His lips parted, then shut tightly. Hekate swallowed. Then he bent his lips into a smile, tried to rise again, and fell back with a groan.
"You won't have use of me long at this rate," he said. "You'll have to find someone who can turn himself into stone. I know it's said that dogs can bind together for hours, but it doesn't seem to carry over into the man form."
"Ohhh . . ." Hekate let the sound linger. "You do well enough."
He uttered an indignant snort and made a third attempt to rise, succeeding this time by straddling his legs and bending his knees. Hekate giggled but realized that it wasn't only a lingering weakness from four couplings but a problem with balancing. She jumped up in time to steady him and they made it across the trough. There a wave of despair and terror seized Hekate and she wavered on her feet, until Kabeiros dismissed the spell.
The offerings were piled carelessly in heaps just beyond where the worshipers could see, as if whoever had collected them could hardly bear to remain. It struck Hekate odd that a dead spirit should react to Kabeiros' spell, but Kabeiros had spotted a man's tunic among the goods and tottered forward to pull it on. He made one attempt to fold the blanket and almost fell over, so Hekate took it from him, but he walked more steadily to a second pile of goods where he saw a handsome rug. He did fall over when he bent to pick it up, but he righted himself.
Meanwhile Hekate had found a cushion and another rug. They carried those back into what had been Kabeiros' living quarters, where Hekate was again made breathless by the beauty of the stone formations and the way quartz and semiprecious stones reflected the mage lights Kabeiros waved awake. A glance around showed that nothing had been disturbed. They might have left only a few moments or hours before rather than having been away for years.
After a little while to appreciate the wonders she had almost forgotten, Hekate went and got the packs and distributed the food they had carried into the proper chambers. Then she hurried to use the privy cave, almost bumping into Kabeiros who was coming out. He was decently clothed in a white undertunic and the embroidered overtunic he had picked out of the offerings, but his feet were bare.
"You need sandals," she said.
"Yes," he agreed, but he looked uncomfortable. "I know it's foolish," he added, "but I feel as if I'm stealing. I never minded taking what I needed while I was here. I felt that I had earned it by casting the spell when it was necessary and keeping the offerings in good order."
Hekate smiled at him. "Let's steal some wine and break our fast. Then I'll go out to the valley of the Nymphae and you can spend the rest of the day putting the offerings in order. It's two or three candlemarks' walk to their valley, and probably I won't stay long with them so I should be back before dark. Go get us some wine while I broil some of the deer you brought in."
When they were seated at Kabeiros' stone table, eating slices of the meat broiled on slabs of rock heated by earth-blood power and some grain roasted in a little oil, she said, "Is there a chamber that could be fitted out for Dionysos to sleep in?"
"Dionysos," Kabeiros repeated, stiffening slightly. "Will you bring him back with you? I thought you didn't know where he was."
"I don't," Hekate replied, "but I just realized that, being a seer, and a strong one, he may have had a Vision of my coming. If so, he might have decided to meet me at the valley of the Nymphae. I . . ." She hesitated, and then went on regretfully, "I guess I would have to bring him back. Now that he's no longer a child, the Nymphae won't let him stay."
Kabeiros shrugged but something about the blankness of his expression and the tension in his body told Hekate that he would not really welcome Dionysos' company. She wondered if his reason could be the same as hers, but shut the thought out lest it take too hard a hold on her and lead to more hurt.
"Please, Kabeiros," she said, "find a place, not too near us, and make it ready. I don't want to hurt him, but I don't want him in our bedchamber either."
He looked away when she said our bedchamber, and Hekate reached across the table and touched his face, then ran her hand caressingly down his shoulder and arm. When she turned her hand to draw a finger back up his arm, he pulled away.
"Let me alone! Have you no mercy?" he asked bitterly. "If Dionysos is already waiting for you, we will not be using the bedchamber for long. We will leave here . . . and I will be a dog again, but my man's mind will remember . . . and desire . . ." He stopped speaking and swallowed.
"Then I have given you pleasure?" Hekate murmured. "I could not be sure."
He started to get up and Hekate closed her hand around his arm. "I must bring Dionysos to Olympus, and I must speak to Hermes. For that small time it will do you no harm to remember our love play. It will whet your appetite—"
"Small time?" Kabeiros wrenched his arm free, got up from the stone stool, and turned his back to her. "No one will ever find an answer to my curse. I will be a dog—"
"There will be an answer," Hekate interrupted sharply. "I have bound myself to it! But I didn't mean to wait for that. Kabeiros, what is to prevent us from coming back here any time we want, as often as we want?"
"To travel for months to spend a few days and—"
"No, no. Don't be silly. We can leap from here to Olympus—"
Kabeiros sighed and reseated himself. "It's too far, Hekate. I know you are strong, but to carry me and Dionysos is too much."
"Hmmm." She took a bite of the meat and chewed it. "I had forgotten that Dionysos won't have the leaping spell. Anyway, you're probably right that it's too far for one leap. There's power here, but not enough, I fear. We'll have to return to Olympus by ship, but that's not all bad. I can find homeplaces in several convenient ports."
"But if Hermes hasn't seen them, how can he fix his essence—or whatever it is—to those places?"
Hekate looked a little shamefaced. "Well . . . I don't really need Hermes any more. I've been playing with the leaping essence, or whatever it is, and I . . . I can bud it just like a magic spell."
Kabeiros shook his head. "Some day you're going to play with something that will burst like a firepot in your head and leave you with burnt brains."
She frowned. "No, usually there's a warning kind of feeling to a bad spell, but the point is that the leaping thing isn't mine to play with. That's what I have to talk to Hermes about. I suppose I must pay him for each leap even though I don't get the spell from him."
"You certainly must talk to him, but likely Hermes won't care. He's so enchanted with the look-by-me spell—"
Hekate made a sour face. "I should never have given it to that busybody. He knew too much before. Now he knows everything. If Zeus casts me out of Olympus, it will be because Hermes has unearthed one secret too many."
Kabeiros laughed. "It's just as well that we've been away so long. Maybe he'll forget where Hermes got the spell." He was silent for a while and then, looking more at ease than he had since she had a man's face to read, said, "If we can jump back and forth . . . Yes."
He said no more, but finished his meal with good appetite speculating easily about what food was likely to come in as an offering, whether the dog should go hunting, or whether they would be gone before they needed more meat. When the meal was over, Hekate left for the valley of the Nymphae. Kabeiros said an abstracted good-bye, but he was shaking his head while he examined the disorganized piles of offerings. Clearly his mind was on how best to arrange them for removal by the servants of the king of the dead.
The body of the girl was even lighter and stronger than the body of the woman. Hekate covered the distance from the caves to the outskirts of Ur-Kabos more quickly than she expected. As she hurried around the north end of the city, she was sorely tempted to enter it and see whether it had changed. Soon after she suppressed that dangerous notion she was racked by the even more dangerous desire to send out a probe and find out what her father was doing.
The urge was so strong that her pace slowed until she was standing still, facing the city wall, which was invisible behind the trees. She had actually begun to walk toward the city, her mind fixed on using high magic for the probe so it would be invisible to Perses when her toe struck an upstanding root with enough force to break the thought and make her cry out. She bent to rub the sore toe, but stopped with her heart pounding in her throat.
Was she mad? Perses should be blind and deaf to high magic, but who knew from where he came and what abilities he kept hidden? She had been afraid he would sense her aura, and now she had considered sending out a probe? Oh, no, that couldn't have been her own thought . . . She turned from Ur-Kabos and began eastward again as fast as she could without drawing undue attention.
Her father had set a trap spell for her! So frightened that she could hardly breathe, Hekate ran faster, but the fear and the rapid pace soon brought her to a halt. She stood gasping, leaning against a tree, expecting every moment to feel the weight of her father's watcher settling on her. But it didn't, and after a time she gathered her wits and began to tell herself that it would have been ridiculous for Perses to set such a spell and expend the energy to keep it going for so many years.
That calmed her and she set off toward the valley of the Nymphae again. As she went, she thought about that desire to probe for her father. It seemed stranger and stranger the more she thought about it. She didn't care where Perses was or what he did. As she calmed, she grinned, wondering if so much association with Hermes had made his intense curiosity contagious. But that was more ridiculous than Perses setting a trap spell . . . No, that wasn't so ridiculous. Perses had many and bitter enemies. It wasn't ridiculous at all for him to set a trap spell—not for her but for anyone who had any knowledge of him at all.
Her toe still ached, atward again as fast as she could without drawing undue attention.
Her father had set a trap spell for her! So frightened that she could hardly breathe, Hekate ran faster, but the fear and the rapid pace soon brought her to a halt. She stood gasping, leaning against a tree, expecting every moment to feel the weight of her father's watcher settling on her. But it didn't, and after a time she gathered her wits and began to tell herself that it would have been ridiculous for Perses to set such a spell and expend the energy to keep it going for so many years.
That calmed her and she set off toward the valley of the Nymphae again. As she went, she thought about that desire to probe for her father. It seemed stranger and stranger the more she thought about it. She didn't care where Perses was or what he did. As she calmed, she grinned, wondering if so much association with Hermes had made his intense curiosity contagious. But that was more ridiculous than Perses setting a trap spell . . . No, that wasn't so ridiculous. Perses had many and bitter enemies. It wasn't ridiculous at all for him to set a trap spell—not for her but for anyone who had any knowledge of him at all.
Her toe still ached, and Hekate smiled down at it. Good fortune alone had saved her from exposing herself. Well, that was a lesson. She wouldn't travel near Ur-Kabos again unless Kabeiros was with her. He would have smelled that spell and warned her. The dog form was certainly useful; if only he could change back and forth when he wished. Hekate sighed and turned further north, working her way through the cedars and cypresses to where ash and oak began. The ground was rising steadily and in a short time there were only ash and oak trees, thinning as the ridge became more barren.
Eventually she found the cleft that was like the center of an upper lip. She breathed a sigh of relief, glanced about to make sure there were no shepherds in sight, and walked off the top of the ridge, which seemed to drop hundreds of stadia into a bare, rock-strewn ravine. That was pure illusion, and Hekate smiled with relief because her work was still protecting the valley. She paused on the other side to examine the spell she had set so many years before. She knew a better way now, one that didn't draw so much power, but there was power in plenty in the earth here, and she left things as they were.
She went down the lushly grassed hill, crossed the stream, and entered the grove in which the house of the Nymphae grew. As she came into the tiny cleari when Dionysos was a child—nothing changed in the valley of the Nymphae—and sat down.
"Are you celebrating something?" Hekate asked, looking at the wreath, and then, "Did you See my coming and leave your aunt's house in the middle of a party?"
A shadow passed over Dionysos' face. "I am not often invited to parties in my aunt's home. I am not living with her any longer."
"Was she unkind to you?" Hekate asked anxiously. "I didn't know. Why didn't my binding tighten? Was I too far for you to Call me?"
"No one can be unkind to me." For a moment Dionysos' face could have been graven from marble and his eyes were hard and bright as sapphires. Then his brow creased with concern. "And knowing what you had fled from here, I wouldn't Call." He frowned. "I can deal with men, but that . . . that thing." He shuddered.
"The guhrt?" Hekate patted Dionysos' hand, offering comfort. "It's gone—back to its own plane, I hope. Kabeiros and I got rid of it."
"Kabeiros?"
"You knew I went to the caves of the dead?" Dionysos nodded and Hekate continued, "There I encountered a man named Kabeiros who protected the caves with a spell and collected the offerings for the servants of the king of the dead to take to the underworld."
"Are you sure he didn't collect them for himself?"
Hekate laughed. "Quite sure. He left the caves to come with me and protect me on my journeys, and he took nothing with him."
Dionysos started to get up. "If you have a companion, you won't want me."
Hekate caught at him. "Won't want you? What can you mean? Kabeiros is my lover, that's true, but you are my friend, Dionysos. Now you are a man grown, you are even more my friend. No one can have too many friends, and I have too few."
He settled back and his face was that of a boy again, cheerful and expectant. "You've been away a long time. Have you been to many strange places?"
"Indeed I have, and I'll tell you all the tales . . ."
She looked up. The Nymphae were standing close by, actually between their house and the turf-covered bank where she and Dionysos sat, almost as if they were herding Hekate and Dionysos away from their most private place.
"You've hidden our valley," the breezelike voice of one of the Nymphae said.
"And that magic has held good, as you promised," the second sighed.
"And it will continue to hold as long as the earth lies quiet," Hekate assured them. "I examined it on my way in and the spell is good, the linkage to the power of the earth firm."
"Yesss," the word was slightly sibilant through the third Nymph's sharp teeth. "And care of Dionysos was the price we paid for that shelter."
"So we took him in, when he returned," the second said.
"But he is a man grown now, not a child. We can care for him no longer," the first said.
"I thank you," Hekate said, "for all you've done, and I understand."
Unfortunately it was clear from his expression that Dionysos didn't understand and was bitterly hurt. He muttered that even the Nymphae didn't want him. Hekate felt a well of sadness from him and also more dangerous emotions stirring beneath. She stood up and took Dionysos' hand, pulling him up with her.
"It's time for me to go to the caves of the dead, isn't it?" he said. There was a tremor in his voice. "I knew long ago that I would have to go there."
Hekate laughed. "Yes, but you are no sacrifice. You will leave the caves, just as I left them, whenever you wish. For Kabeiros and me—and for you, too—the caves of the dead are only a temporary resting place. And I'll show you a wonderful magic trick to getting there."
To be more secure, she put her arm around him, hugged him tight, and said, "Dei me exelthein ta loisthia spelaion," while her mind made a clear picture of the mouth of the caves of the dead. She heard an exclamation from Dionysos, oddly truncated and, equally oddly, completed as they touched ground in the dark cave mouth.
"How did you do that?" the young man gasped.
Hekate grinned at him. "I didn't do it at all. It's not a spell I made. It's . . . I don't know what—an essence? a distillation?—of the Gift of a young Olympian called Hermes. He can somehow form a piece of his Gift into a bit of power that acts just like a spell."
"Did you steal it from him?"
The question made Hekate laugh aloud. "Not from Hermes. He is the master thief, and anyway, Dionysos, you should know that I don't steal. I bartered with him spell for spell."
"Would he barter with me?" Dionysos asked eagerly. "A spell like that could spread my worship all over whatever part of the earth can support the vine of the grape."
"Spread your worship?" Hekate echoed.
"Oh, yes," he said with a charming mixture of pride and amazement. "I am the god of wine, and many temples have been raised to me. This is such a wine as you never drank, not sweet and thick and cloying like date wine. The wine of the grape is a fine quencher of thirst, sweet or almost astringent. It is much less likely to make you sick—although if you drink enough even of grape wine you will be sick. And it is a great opener of hearts—"
"Are you sure that is such a good idea?"
Hekate turned, let go of Dionysos, and leapt lightly across the blood trough to kiss Kabeiros gently on the mouth. Aloud she said, "Dionysos, this is my dear companion, Kabeiros," and before Kabeiros could look surprised at the display of intimacy, she said mind to mind, *I have told Dionysos you are my lover. I wanted to remind him of that. He must have had some bad experiences with his aunt because he feels no one wants him. Make him welcome, please, Kabeiros.*
Dionysos had not heard the mental exchange and frowned slightly at Kabeiros, not like a jealous man but in response to what Kabeiros had said. "Why not?" he asked.
"Because open hearts often lead to drawn knives," Kabeiros replied, smiling. "A thin veneer of lies is often the perfect grease for a smooth relationship."
Dionysos grinned. "You may be right. It's true enough that a beaker or two too many can cause a slip into some wild behavior."
"But what is this about temples?" Hekate asked, coming back across the blood trough with Kabeiros, who held out his hand to Dionysos.
The younger man smiled and took the hand, but his eyes were on Hekate, and he said, "You knew of my Seeing about planting vines?"
"Yes."
Dionysos touched the wreath of intertwined stems around his head. "These are the vines. They live as long as they touch me, and they never grow fewer, no matter how many I plant in the earth. It has come to me how to nurture them, how to ferment the fruit, and I taught these skills. Moreover, where I pass the grapes are sweet and perfect and ferment into a drink like no other. Those who followed my teaching have grown rich and have raised temples and leave offerings to tempt me back into their vineyards where my touch, or even my thought, can produce a wine like ambrosia. If I could only leap in an instant from one vineyard to another, I would be . . ." His voice drifted away and he cocked his head at Hekate. "Ambrosia, the drink of the gods! Surely only a god could leap as you did—"
"But you know I'm not a god," Hekate said, laughing.
"Then this Hermes, who bartered spell for spell with you, would he barter his spell or essence or whatever for something I had?"
"I'm sure he would, as soon as you are in Olympus. And if you had nothing to barter at first, I believe Hermes would lend you a spell until you could pay him." Hekate now put her arm around Dionysos again and said, "I've found your father, and Zeus is the leader of the Olympians. Olympus is a city full of people who have great Gifts, so no Gift is an anathema. I've told Zeus about you, Dionysos, and you are invited to come and live in Olympus.
"And you?"
"I will live there too. Zeus—" she chuckled softly "—will be a lot happier with you than he is with me. In Olympus, Gifts are what is accepted. My magic and spells are suspect."
"But you know I'm not a god," Hekate said, laughing.
"Then this Hermes, who bartered spell for spell with you, would he barter his spell or essence or whatever for something I had?"
"I'm sure he would, as soon as you are in Olympus. And if you had nothing to barter at first, I believe Hermes would lend you a spell until you could pay him." Hekate now put her arm around Dionysos again and said, "I've found your father, and Zeus is the leader of the Olympians. Olympus is a city full of people who have great Gifts, so no Gift is an anathema. I've told Zeus about you, Dionysos, and you are invited to come and live in Olympus.
"And you?"
"I will live there too. Zeus—" she chuckled softly "—will be a lot happier with you than he is with me. In Olympus, Gifts are what is accepted. My magic and spells are suspect."