Carrie Vaughn - Discord's Apple

He watched the people who weren’t servants. They stood apart, in twos or threes, studying each other across the room, talking quietly. They were regal, garbed in the richest fabric and jewels, their hair oiled and perfectly arranged, tied with strings of pearls and lapis. The men were broad of shoulder, proud of mien; the women slim, curved, gleaming with marble beauty. Imperious. The gods and goddesses of Olympus.

Their gazes turned to Apollo when he and Sinon came into view. Sinon hung back, not wishing to draw attention to himself—willing, for once, to defer to Apollo. Apollo nodded to the others, who nodded in return. Sinon felt some of their gazes pass over him, a pricking as his hair stood on end.

Think of nothing. Wool. Fog.

“Greetings, Brother. It’s been ages since I’ve seen you.” A woman in a short tunic belted with silver, wearing silver-laced sandals bounded up to Apollo like a young girl, or a deer. Where Apollo was light, she was dark, black hair tied with silver chains, her skin olive, her eyes intense.

“Greetings, Sister. It has been far too long.” Apollo touched her face and leaned in to kiss her cheek lightly. His smile seemed genuine. “Tell me, what’s the mood?”

“Everyone’s still cranky about Troy.” She rolled her eyes. “ That’s why we should put men and women on different continents and have visiting days only once a year. Men and women together cause such problems.”

“That would not please some of our brethren as much as it would please you,” Apollo said.

Artemis pointedly looked Sinon up and down, studying him. Sinon kept his gaze on his toes. “He’s new, isn’t he? Very nice.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

Sinon was afraid he was blushing. He lifted his gaze enough to see Artemis wink at him before she went away. He let out a sigh.

Apollo glanced at him and chuckled. “My twin sister. Lovely, isn’t she? Don’t get any ideas. She’d eat you alive.”

Sinon snorted. “I’m only thinking about wool and fog, my lord, as you commanded.”

Apollo laughed.

One of the chairs was larger than the others. It had thick armrests and shimmering upholstery, and stood on a dais. An old man with gray hair and beard, a stern gaze, and heavy shoulders emerged from the grove of trees and moved to the chair. He drew attention to him—he was like the North Star pulling lodestones, the way everyone fell silent and looked at him. He stepped up on the dais and rested on his throne.

This was Zeus.

Sinon had an urge to prostrate himself before that throne, to pray as he never had in his life, not even in battle. He clenched his fists.

Apollo turned to him and whispered, “You’d bow to Zeus but not to me?”

Sinon nodded. His voice shook. “He’s Zeus. The Father.”

“Yes, he is.”

When Zeus sat, the others took the signal to make their way to their own chairs. The servants disappeared, except for the personal slaves of each of the gods, who lurked unobtrusively behind the chairs. Most of the gods had servants. A pair of girls waited on Artemis. Aphrodite had an army of maidens. (Sinon knew she was Aphrodite—he could barely look at her, she shone so brightly.) Hermes, the man with wings on his sandals, didn’t have any. Nor did Zeus himself.

Sinon tried to name them all: Hephaestus, who slumped in his chair over a twisted leg; Athena, the regal woman with the gray eyes and piercing gaze; Ares, who snarled at everyone around him.

The minor deities sat on the stone benches carved into the hill, around the outside of the circle. One of the chairs of the inner circle was empty.

The goddess who sat closest to Zeus was not the most beautiful, but she was striking. Sinon looked past her once, but found himself drawn back to her, until he could look at no one else. There was a gravity to her, much like the aura of authority that clung to Zeus. Her dark curling hair was piled on her head in a queenly fashion, respectable, admirable. Her gown was elegant, her jewels tasteful. This, then, was Hera.

Zeus spoke. Sinon expected his voice to break the silence like thunder. Instead, it was calm. It held the weight of authority without the storm.

“Athena, speak your grievance.”

Athena stood. She was tall—taller than Sinon. He remembered she was a warrior goddess. She looked like she feared nothing.

“I come to plead on behalf of Odysseus the Ithacan. For ten long years, he has been the plaything of our anger, our rivalries. We should have been done with such pettiness at Troy. Instead, our bickering continues, scattering the Greeks across the oceans. Ten years have passed since Odysseus left Troy. It is time for him to return home. I would enlist your help to make this so.”

Ten years.

He had been enslaved to Apollo for ten years. But he didn’t feel any different than he had that night in Agamemnon’s tent, when they planned the horse—

He crouched and whispered in Apollo’s ear. “Ten years? It’s been ten years?”

Apollo said, “Yes. And every one of Odysseus’s men has died on the journey home. I saved your life, enslaving you. Now be quiet.”

Athena continued. “He is being held captive by the nymph Calypso. My King Zeus, one word from you, and she would release him. He could go home, after all this time.”

Odysseus, also held captive. And all his men dead. Sinon nearly wept for his friend. Odysseus would have taken to heart every one of those deaths.

Hera leaned forward, smiling sweetly. “I observe that you petition us now, when Poseidon is absent.” She nodded at the empty chair.

“An astute observation, my lady. It’s no secret, he hates Odysseus and would never consent to easing his path home. But he cannot oppose a decision that we all agree to. So I ask for aid now.”

Ares stood. “He is a Greek. I oppose them on principle.”

Athena raised an eyebrow, looking like she was exercising patience. “That was a long time ago. Troy is gone now.”

“Because of Odysseus. Why should I help him?”

“You don’t have to help him. Just don’t hinder him any longer.”

A pleasant soft-featured woman with hair the color of wheat—Demeter?—leaned forward. “Is he in any danger? Is Calypso mistreating him?”

“Only by keeping him prisoner.”

“Then why not let him be? Why interfere?”

“Because he longs for home more than anything. Have pity on him!” Athena said, pleading with a closed fist.

Aphrodite laughed, a sound like bells. “It’s true, isn’t it? You do love him! The one man you’ve ever encountered who might actually be cleverer than you!”

Athena scowled.

Ares said, “Abandon him, Athena. He’s just a mortal. Let him free himself, if he wants. I’m betting he’ll just give up and live out his days in Calypso’s arms.”

Athena’s lips thinned. “A bet? How much?”

“My finest war stallion.”

Athena gave a full-blown smile. “Anyone else? I’ll wager a golden lyre that he fights for freedom until he reaches his home.”

Hermes hopped up so he crouched on the seat of his chair. “A bottle of wine from each of the four corners of the world says that he reaches home.”

Aphrodite: “A casket of pearls that he surrenders.” She and Ares exchanged a glance.

Apollo gestured for Sinon, who crouched by his master’s chair. “It’s terrible. Half of us admire Odysseus’s persistence. The other half want to see how much he’ll take before he gives up. What do you say? What will Odysseus do?”

“He will not give up. He’ll die trying to return home.”

“You know him better than the gods, who can read his thoughts? The thoughts of Odysseus are racked with despair these days.”

“I fought beside him, my lord. He does not give in to despair.”