CHAPTER XXII
Nikeros led the way through the camp, his head down, telling Korinna that he promised Calix she’d be at the party and to go on ahead. She was surprised Calix had spoken to him at all but said nothing about it. When they got to the jungle, they had to pick their way through the darkness until they began to notice it. The sounds came first, voices from far off. There were lights too, so foreign in the darkness of the night, but they were colored, peeking out from between palm fronds as they went. Then there was a smell, smoked meat and spilled wine, until finally they broke through the branches and found themselves standing on the edge of a massive bowl dug out of the earth, larger than any coliseum or arena Korinna had even heard of.
The sounds of hundreds of voices rushed up at them, bookended by drums and lutes and laughter. Fires were burning, sparking up from pits with colors Korinna didn’t even have pigments for, bright blues and greens and purples, and tables were strewn about, covered in whole roasted pigs, cheeses, and fruits.
It was chaos, but it was contained below them, the shouting jovial as people ran after one another, danced and laughed, sang and ate. From their spot at the basin’s edge, they could pick out Oceanids among the mortals, but there were others too who looked at least slightly out of place. And even here and there a flash of godly glowing skin.
They’d been standing there for some time, she realized, when Nikeros nudged her with his elbow. “Calix will be wanting to see you.”
“Calix, right.” Korinna tried to smile, but it hurt her face. Instead, she focused on her feet as they made their way down the rocky ledge to the heart of the party. It was much louder down there, and the excitement was heavy in the air. They carefully meandered through bodies, many wearing animal masks and short tunics, and were only cut off twice by a group of nymphs in green chitons and with leaves braided into their hair being chased by a man who was at least half, if not more, goat.
They passed a few beings who undoubtedly were gods, though Korinna didn’t recognize them. She thought perhaps she saw Ares once, but quickly ducked away, afraid she might be asked how the exchange had gone. They had their glow, of course, but were also performing miracles as if they were tricks. One god turned a man into a pig while yet another snatched a snake from a bush and gave it the ability to speak. “Nikeros,” Korinna asked with a slight grunt, “Do the gods always interact with mortals like this?”
“Sure, when they don’t expect to be remembered. Most of the mortals will forget this whole thing by tomorrow, Dionysus’s wine will see to that. The rest will retell the experience so differently from one another that no one will ever believe it.”
It seemed a solid plan, though just as Korinna was thinking it would certainly be nice if they could reserve a magic trick or two for the crops in Zafolas, the sky opened with a massive crack of light streaking through it, threatening to ruin the entire night. The lightning illuminated the whole of the basin, revealing a wall of water suddenly looming over the guests, ready to crash and drown them all if they weren’t first burnt to death by the fire still suspended in the sky.
The guests screamed, frozen in place, staring up at their doom. Heat sizzled through the air as a beam of light splintered down and cracked into the center of the basin where a natural platform of smooth, wide stone was raised. Then the wave broke above them, but instead of filling the bowl, the water rained down, barely sprinkling over them all. When the flash cleared, two figures appeared on the dais, muscled, in too-tight togas with beards that glistened but didn’t hide their self-satisfied smirks.
Cheers erupted from the guests at the arrival of Zeus and Poseidon who waved at the crowd below, turning to high five one another and rattling the entire bowl with a sound like thunder. Nymphs rushed the stage, clambering atop one another to reach the gods.
“Wow,” Korinna turned to Nikeros, shouting over the roar, “That was something.”
He looked up at them blankly and only nodded back.
Then they saw the gods waving into the crowd and pulling someone winged up onto the dais with them. It was Anteros, and he looked pleased though he acted as though he was unworthy of his place on the stage. Poseidon threw an arm around the Erote, and Zeus slapped his back. One of the nymphs who had scaled the dais landed a kiss on his cheek.
“Your brother,” Korinna gasped.
“My brother.” His voice was completely flat.
“They seem really happy with him,” Korinna tried, giving him a nudge, hoping her prodding would reveal some sort of truth.
“I guess so.”
Then she sighed, shuffling close to him and shouting into his ear, “Listen, Rhodea told me this was your idea, not his. Why didn’t you take the credit?”
“What?” He looked at her with wild eyes. “She said that?”
“Yeah! And you know what? I believe it. Leon is your brother, after all.”
Nikeros looked around, then pulled Korinna out of the center of crowd. They made their way through the bodies to where a table with a whole roast deer was laid out. Korinna made a face at it and quickly focused on Nikeros. “I didn’t shoot Leon or Phille,” he told her, “so it doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does!” She was glaring at him, and he was glaring back, but before they could bicker further, there was a crash, followed by cheers.
Now on the raised dais was a handful of seemingly mortal men. Each held a different instrument, and they assembled themselves in a semicircle as the others cheered. Korinna had seen some of these instruments before, played by passing bards and even some villagers with varying ability. She recognized the simple lyre with only two strings, and of course the assortment of drums that had been arranged, though she’d never seen so many in one place, but there were also a few men carrying long, bronze horns she’d really only ever seen in the market square for announcements.
And then there was something very foreign with many strings attached to a long neck that ran into a hollow bowl. It looked complex and impressive, and the man carrying it seemed even moreso. With black, loose hair hanging down in front of his face and a pale complexion, he sauntered across the dais carrying the instrument. He looked out at the crowd through a part in his hair, just enough to uncover a single eye, and when he winked at them, sharp shrieking pierced the sky.
Nikeros was staring up at them with just the tiniest hint of annoyance. “I think that’s Erepho.”
That didn’t mean anything to Korinna. “That doesn’t mean anything to me.”
“Oh, right, well I think that’s your third suitor.”
“You think right.” An arm wrapped around Korinna from behind, and another grabbed Nikeros, squeezing them both toward the large-chested man who’d appeared just behind them. Wearing a blazingly bright grin across a smooth face, Korinna knew this was another god, disguise free. Blond hair pulled back at the nape of his neck and blue eyes twinkling, the man only squeezed them both harder against his bare chest and gazed up at the dais. “Erepho, the gifted,”—he winked at Korinna—“In more ways than one.”
CHAPTER XXIII
“Apollo,” Nikeros coughed out just as the man released them, “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
“Well, I wouldn’t miss this for all of Gaia. Or Helios.” He emanated warmth, his chest hot to the touch. “But I thought, hey, if Athena and Hera have both their matches here, then I’m not missing out. Now, tell me, Mortal.” He gripped Korinna’s upper arms from behind and rested his chin on her shoulder. “Is Erepho not the most amazing specimen of man you’ve ever seen?”
Erepho stood, wide-legged, at the center of the dais, surrounded by his band of musicians, the complex weapon strapped around his shoulder and hanging low, almost too low to be utilized, Korinna thought, but then he simply hung his arms low as well, so different than any other lute player she’d seen. Erepho wore pitch-dyed robes as if he were in mourning, but somehow it was fitting against his pale skin, and even though his limbs were thin and long and did give him a slight resemblance to what
one might think death looked like, there was something alluring about it all.
“He does seem very well-loved.” The crowd that had gathered at the dais, including Zeus and Poseidon, were calling out the names of the men.
“He is famed throughout Theopopolis and Dorinth for his kithara mastery and his voice, both of which have been personally blessed by yours truly.”
Then the band began, a song erupting unlike any Korinna had heard. There was nothing sweet or delicate about it, but it was loud, and it was melodious. It rang out in the basin and the crowd jumped along with the rhythm.
“Have they been enthralled?” Nikeros asked, his lip curled in confusion.
“No,” Apollo sighed with satisfaction, “No magic here. The man is just gifted.”
“I do not understand.”
Nikeros seemed unhappy, but Korinna was beginning to warm to the idea of Erepho. “Is he married?” she asked suddenly.
“Erepho?” The god laughed. “Oh, no, no. But that isn’t what you are looking for, is it?”
Korinna cocked an eyebrow. He wasn’t wrong. “And he’s…fond of women?”
“Oh, he’s fond of everybody.” Apollo looked nostalgic for a moment. “But I assure you, Erepho is everything one could want: handsome, talented, and his soul is just oh, so beautifully tortured.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just listen.”
They did listen, through multiple songs. As they passed, Korinna convinced Nikeros to wipe the annoyed look from his face and even to dance when she purposefully made a fool of herself with overzealous movements. He eventually broke down into laughter and all three, the god included, joined the crowd. Korinna moved her body to the music as she felt it should go, untethered in so many ways.
But like all good things, it came to an end with a roaring climax that left the assembled hoarse and seeking out more wine. The musicians climbed off the dais, and Apollo pushed the two of them closer to where Erepho was descending. From their new spot, they could see him wipe sweat from his brow as he slung his kithara over his back. A number of nymphs and mortal women flocked to him and he was hidden for a few moments, and Korinna stretched to see what was going on, but he soon climbed up on a barrel of wine and leaned out over them.
“Ladies, for you, my heart is so heavy.” The gathered fell into silence, their eyes trained on him. “The gods have smiled upon me, but only gifted me with but one life to spend with but one of you.” They swooned and he threw a look over at some of the other musicians who were mulling about, caring for their own instruments. “It is my deepest regret I cannot live a million times over and share each life with each of you.”
Apollo nudged Nikeros. “Now would be a good time to shoot him.”
The Erote grimaced. “Do I have to?”
Korinna laughed in the back of her throat. “Oh, suddenly you’re not so willing to pull out the bow?”
“I just really,”—Nikeros looked like he had tasted something awful—“really don’t like him.”
“Why not?” She rolled her eyes. “You didn’t mind the doe-killer or the polygamist, so what’s the problem now?”
Nikeros’s mouth dropped open, but then he froze. She tapped her foot with a smirk, waiting for the answer, but when he wouldn’t—or couldn’t—tell her and instead a sort of bewildered embarrassment rose in his eyes, she lost the haughtiness she’d been feeling and quickly looked to Apollo for help. But, again, that’s not really what gods do.
The god of, well, a lot of things (including the plague), crossed his arms and glared at the Erote. Nikeros heaved a sigh and raised his hands where a golden, mechanical, bow-like contraption materialized. With a lot less focus than any time before, he released a tiny lever, and it shot the arrow for him. The pink-feathered projectile zipped through the air and pegged Erepho right in the groin before disappearing. The man doubled over for an instant, then sat up, and his eyes, a dreamy sea green, instinctively found Korinna’s in the crowd.
Erepho slipped down from the barrel, forgetting his pain, and pushed through the others to their disappointment, walking up and taking her hands in his own. “I’ve never seen anyone so remarkable,” he told her, pushing strings of black hair away from his face, “More gifted than Pandora, more bewitching than Medea, fiercer than Atalanta, and your beauty? Helen, nor Psyche, not even the great Aphrodite could compare.” (At this, somewhere far off at the very same party, Aphrodite had the sudden urge to strike something down, but after turning a Nereid that looked at her the wrong way into a thicket of bindweed, she felt much better.) “There is only you. The rest of the world is shut out to me now that our eyes have met.”
Korinna felt a little shiver go up her spine, though she wasn’t entirely sure if it was due to Erepho’s words or the chilling stare of the women he’d passed by. She smiled. “You were amazing up there.”
“And you were amazing down here. My name is Erepho, and I’m kind of a big deal in Rome.”
Apollo flung an arm around Nikeros’s shoulders and jostled the clearly disgusted Erote. “Theodotus is as good as mine.”
I don’t know about this Erepho guy.
Look, I know, but it’s a phase, and we all go through it.
Yeah, but he’s…
He’s what?
He’s in a band for Pan’s sake!
Give Korinna a break, it’s been a rough—uh, however long it’s been. And in comparison to the other two options, this is looking pretty good.
Oh, right, only two options. Of course.
Deeper in the basin, the food had been ravaged, carcasses and crusts littering tables, but the wine had not run out, much to everyone’s pleasure. Some of the guests had fallen asleep against each other in various bushes, and some only looked to be asleep. Still, Korinna could see little but Erepho. He was telling her about his travels, and they sounded magical. She asked about his inspiration, and he was happy to oblige her with tales of gods and monsters.
Ahem.
And, of course, muses.
Like Calix, he talked a lot, but there was substance to what he said. At least, Korinna thought there was. It was a little hard to follow, after all, but she was no artist. Except, that was right! “You know, I do art too,” she told him clumsily.
His face changed then, looking at her anew. “Oh?”
“Yes, I paint. Oh, and draw. And sometimes I throw pots.” When he cocked his head, she continued, “I mean, I don’t throw pots unless I’m really mad.” She giggled remembering Nikeros’s joke, but Erepho didn’t join in. “I mean, I make them. With clay.”
“Hmm.” He looked her over for a long moment then brushed hair back from his face again. “Well, it is no wonder my heart finds you so desirable then.”
“My love!” Calix’s voice crashed through her like Zeus’s lightning bolt. She stiffened, her eyes bulging, then turned to see the prince striding up to her.
“Shit,” she muttered under her breath, then put on a smile, “My prince!”
“Did he just call you his love?” Erepho stood straighter, particularly odd for a man who was in a perpetual hunch.
“It’s just a term of endearment,” she insisted, grabbing Calix and holding him at arm’s length so he would not embrace her.
“My love,” he repeated, and she cringed, “I’ve heard the most amusing story from my good friend, Andreas. You would be loath to miss it.”
“Your friend who now?” her voice cracked.
“He said,” Calix laughed at the memory, “He said he thought he saw a dryad in the box with me at the chariot race, and he was so distracted,” he laughed even harder despite that it didn’t seem funny at all, “He was so distracted he ran his chariot into the other riders, and that’s what caused the whole mess!”
“Oh, ha.” Korinna tried holding the corners of her mouth up. “Ha, yeah, that’s funny. Crazy even.”
“It gets better,” Calix cautioned her, containing himself, “He says that dryad was sent to him directly from the go
ddess Athena herself, and they are meant to be immortal lovers.”
“I don’t remember telling him that,” she mumbled.
“And he says that dryad is you!” Again Calix burst into laughter, crumpling down over himself, “Isn’t that a riot?”
Korinna swallowed hard, her heart racing. She looked around but could find no sign of Nikeros.
“Who is this man?” Erepho demanded without an answer.
Calix stood straight again and took a deep breath. “Ah, there he is! Andreas, over here!” The prince began waving dramatically, and Korinna failed at pulling his arm down. “Here he comes, my love. I’ll have him repeat it all—he tells it so much better.”
CHAPTER XXIV
There was shouting, and a lot of it. Korinna stood in the center of the three men, their voices bellowing, though none of it seemed to be directed at her. The idiots, she realized, were mad at each other! Andreas, Calix, and Erepho hurled insults and threats of pain and death at one another, though none moved to physicality act upon their words. This was what it must be like to be a goddess, she thought, staring down at stupid, little mortals, fighting over petty things like who gets to kiss which girl when there were much bigger problems at hand like whole villages sacrificing virgins to monsters. As she began to assess the nearest bushes for which would give the best cover, she heard the sound of a familiar, colossal sword being unsheathed.
Andreas was now brandishing the Sword of Teethis, and in response, Erepho had grabbed his kithara by the neck and held it aloft. Calix, wide-eyed, held up his fists, and Korinna decided bloodshed on her behalf would be going a little too far.
“Stop!”
The men fell into immediate silence, and she found herself standing in what would be the receiving range of them all. They’d listened, which was not only shocking but left her with a conundrum: she had no idea what to do next. Korinna looked out again into the crowd of drunken partygoers, but Nikeros was nowhere to be found. She hoped he might have turned himself into a beetle and was nestled somewhere in her hair, but his voice never piped up to guide her. What she would give, she thought, for even a stupid, encouraging grin at that moment. Clearing her throat, she looked from the soldier to the prince to the bard, and then, Korinna said the first thing that popped into her mind: “I have to pee!” There was no response from any of them. “No one move, no one speak, no one even think until I come back.”
The Korinniad Page 13