Carrie Vaughn - Discord's Apple

Soon, she would be able to break this world over her knee.

The door slammed open and Robin burst into the room. She’d told him to knock first. She’d have to do something about his irreverence. The imp claimed to admire Hermes, but Hermes had never been so impertinent.

Entering behind him, slouching in a felt coat, was the Greek slave who’d been at the Walker house.

Hera gave him a welcoming smile. “Good evening. Please come in and make yourself comfortable.”

Walking slowly, cautiously, the Greek approached. He pulled a chair away from a different table than the others and sat. He eyed the others carefully, as if memorizing their features.

Robin stood apart, arms crossed and grinning, like he’d brought home the golden fleece all by himself.

She continued. “How much of our little endeavor did Robin explain to you?”

The Greek glanced at Robin and shrugged deeper into his coat. “Is that his name?”

“I’ll take that to mean none, then. Would you like something to drink?”

He shook his head. Not one for social niceties, it seemed. But then, she couldn’t blame him for being wary. He’d had experience with the old gods. What exactly had Apollo done to the lad to terrify him so?

She stepped before him. “I’m prepared to make a deal with you. I need access to the Storeroom in the Walker house.”

“What makes you think I have it?” he said with a half grin.

“One step at a time. I’m a patient woman.”

“I can imagine. It’s taken you a long time to get here.”

He may not have had any power of his own, but she’d do well not to underestimate him. He was old, and age alone would give him a great deal of knowledge, perhaps even wisdom. “You as well. We might be able to help each other. What do you want from the Storeroom? What are you looking for?”

“Hasn’t your spy told you?”

Hera made a noncommittal sigh. “The only reason any of us—people like us—are interested in the Walker house is the Storeroom. I believe you’re trying to get into it through the girl. I would only like to propose that when you reach your goal, you keep my interests in mind. I could make it worth your while.”

“How?”

Here came the problem in dealing with immortals: What could she offer to someone who’d been alive for so long? What experience could she give him that he didn’t already have, what wealth that he hadn’t already collected and squandered a dozen times over? Immortals were so jaded.

“Name a price,” she said, shrugging.

“I want to hear what you’re offering.”

What had he been, before he wore Apollo’s chain? What had he become, after Apollo was gone? If nothing else, he was pleasant on the eyes. One could never have too many nice-looking men around.

“I can offer you power,” she said. “I’m rebuilding a pantheon. I’ll need help to see it established.”

“You’re offering divinity?” he said.

“Is that what you want?”

He kept his expression still. His gaze revealed nothing, not desire, fear, shock, nothing. But it was so clear. She could give him what he hadn’t found in over three thousand years of life. Power. Godhood. He was a servant, like Robin. He needed only a worthy master to guide him. She could use him like a tool, and make him grateful for it.

“That isn’t what he wants,” the Wanderer said. He’d been staring at the Greek, studying him with his focused intensity. Looking inside him. To his credit, the Greek didn’t flinch.

“What does he want?” Hera said, not taking her gaze from the Greek.

“Ask him about the chain he wears around his neck.”

Hera lifted her brow. “Well?”

The Greek grimaced and said, “I want it off.”

Ah, three thousand years, his master dead, and he was still a slave.

“Then I will find a way to remove it. If you will help me.”

The Greek had just exposed a great deal about himself, so she didn’t fault him for his stony reaction. He’d locked himself behind an emotionless wall—which he was wise to do, in a room filled with so much power.

He said, “You have a plan.”

“There is a golden apple. It was mine by rights when it first came into being, but it was stolen from me. I would have it now. Since the Walkers won’t give it to me, I must take it.”

He nodded slowly, with understanding. “Discord’s apple. The Judgment of Paris.”

“You know the story. Good.”

“I fought in the war over Helen, my lady. Of course I know the story.”

She regarded him with renewed curiosity. Who was he?

“Can you find a way for me to get into the Storeroom, or bring me the apple yourself?”

“I don’t know.”

“See that you do, and you will be rewarded.”

“My lady, can I ask you a question?”

“You may.”

“How did you survive?”

“Pardon me?”

“When Zeus set the trap at Olympus, how did you survive?”

She considered. He knew too much. Even if he was Apollo’s slave, Apollo hadn’t known anything. The stupid boy had fallen straight into Zeus’s trap, along with the rest of the family. In the stories, the gods had lived on forever. Only disbelief caused them to fade into myth. No one ever learned of the destruction of Olympus. She would have to watch this one closely indeed.

“I nearly didn’t. But you must understand, Zeus was my husband. He didn’t think I knew what he had planned, but I did. I had a plan of my own, and though his power nearly found me out, it didn’t.”

His gaze became unfocused and thoughtful.

“Does that agree with what you know?” she said.

“Yes. Yes, it does. Thank you. I should be going, I think. I have work to do.”

He stood, turned up his collar, and let himself out the door.

The Wanderer said, “He’s hiding something.”

“Of course he is,” Hera said curtly.

“He never exactly agreed to help you, you know,” the Wanderer added.

“Did he really fight at Troy?” asked the Marquis.

“I believe he did.”

The nobleman continued. “There’s something else you should know. He’s the one I followed. He’s the one who led us to the Storeroom. I suspect he possesses a great deal of knowledge we could use.”

Hera tapped a finger on the rim of her wineglass. “Robin, you must keep a close watch on him.”

“Absolutely I must.”

V ita chopped vegetables while Sylvia, six years old, stirred the soup, or tried to. Vita hoped it didn’t burn too badly, but she didn’t have the heart to shoo her daughter away.

“When was the Trojan War, Mother?”

“Oh, hundreds of years ago.”

“Then how do people know what happened?”

“They tell stories. That’s why stories are so important. They help people remember.”

“Why didn’t anyone believe Cassandra? I would have believed her.”

“No, you wouldn’t have. Apollo made it so no one believed her.”

“Why?”

“Cassandra made him angry, so he cursed her.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s what gods do.”

“Is that why we pray to them? So they won’t curse us?”

Oh, the blasphemy, Vita thought, biting back a smile. “Yes, my dear. That’s exactly it.”

Lucius came in then, and Sylvia screamed a welcome to him, ran, and hugged him. He snatched her up and spun her around until her brown hair tangled in front of her face, then he held her upside down while she screamed some more, and he leaned over to kiss Vita on the cheek.

“Supper soon? I’m famished,” he said. It was planting season. He’d been in the fields since dawn.