Hades and Seph

by Eileen Glass

  They have to go home for that.

  “Come on.” He takes Seph’s wrist, but as he turns to fly them home, his eyes fall on Hermes’s face. He’s smiling. And then everyone’s face. They’re all smiling.

  “The king is moved by the song!” says someone in an awed tone, and a young woman claps.

  “He will do it! Orpheus the Bard has swayed the king!” someone else says, and the clapping spreads and continues.

  “Play more for him, bard! Your songs are magic!”

  Said bard sings louder than ever, so loud he drowns out his own lyre, and this song is about the happy days of the two lovers, sneaking off together and him putting flowers in her hair.

  The crowd watches the two of them with smiles, and only Hermes seems to be as confused as Hades, though he wears a small smirk as well.

  “Cousin!” he exclaims, approaching, holding out his arms. And Seph is passed from one embrace to the other, though Hades is reluctant to let him go. Hermes uses his shoulder to wedge Hades out of the way, which Hades only allows because he finds the crowd’s attention very strange.

  Why are they staring at him so adoringly?

  This is not normal.

  “Uhh… Who are you?” asks Seph, unreceptive to the hug.

  Hermes does not let him go but backs away, looking at him eye-to-eye. “You’re kidding, right?” He looks back at Hades incredulously. “I’m your cousin!” Hermes shakes his shoulder in a friendly fashion, as if that will jostle the memory into him. “Oh my gods—really? You don’t remember me?”

  He looks back at Hades again, and Hades realizes that at some point he’s going to have to give an explanation. But if there’s one thing that will turn Demeter’s heart cold enough to watch the entire Earth die, it will be hearing that her son almost fell to his death into Tartarus down here.

  This is why Hades almost didn’t make the trade for the rabbit.

  “Wow, I forget how quickly the little ones grow, huh?” Hermes scratches his head in a sheepish manner. He upsets the helmet on his head, a bowl with two silly wings sticking up on either side like an owl’s feather horns.

  Then he rights it, saying, “I’m sorry I didn’t come by more often. I’m the one who told you to put a rotten fig in your mother’s slippers—remember? And then I taught you how to carefully draw a giant beard on her while she was sleeping. Which, of course, I’m sure you got in a lot of trouble for, but I had to leave, you understand. Business to do and all that. I run around the world helping lost souls for Hades! It’s not easy.”

  Seph only blinks at the man who clasps his shoulder again as though they are friends. There is no dawning recognition in his eyes, though surely being left to take the blame for a prank should have been a significant childhood memory.

  “Hermes is my messenger,” Hades says, wishing he had told Seph more about him. More about all of his family, actually. He intended to, but somehow that task just got lost and forgotten. “He finds the souls that resist the call to the underworld and guides them here for me. He saves many millions of people every year.”

  And he’s the one who protected you for me.

  I will tell him soon.

  “Oh,” Seph says, and there is no recognition. “Yes, of course. It is nice to meet you… um, Cousin Hermes.”

  Seph offers his hand between them, which Hermes looks at strangely, and then takes it anyway.

  Hermes then proceeds to put an arm around Seph, asking, “How has the marriage been, cousin?” And he begins to lead Seph away from Hades. Purposely no doubt. They did not agree to that.

  But Hades finds himself more perturbed by the attention of the crowd, an old man asking, “Will you do as he asks? If so, I have a wife I’d like to return to. She is still alive in Ephesus, and caring for her dear mother all alone. If I return to her, she will know there is nothing to fear. Not for her mother or for herself, and she may choose to come back with me, in fact.”

  The man puts his hands together like he’s praying. “I will tell her there is food and no pain here. I know she is pure enough to come to Elysium! Why, she’s better than me in all ways. Please, King Hades of the Underworld! Let me bring my wife back.”

  And he goes to his knees, bowing all the way to the planks.

  The crowd cheers encouragingly, looking upon Hades with smiles. They wipe their eyes and more of them urge the bard to play. Hades only wonders where all this nonsense came from.

  What the hell are all these people talking about?

  Forty-Nine

  It takes some time, but Hades orders a tent, a small table, and two chairs to be brought onto the ship that is now empty of souls. A new ship waits behind them, the poor frightened passengers unable to step off. And if his discussion with Seph takes too long, it may be a while before the unloading happens as planned.

  My docks are completely chaotic anyway, he reminds himself when they’ve erected the tent. Servants bow and step aside, and then Hades and Seph go in, two married kings. A ruling like this has never happened before, but little do the hopeful citizens know, they’re actually gawking at a simple married couple’s dispute.

  Perhaps the first between him and Seph, if Seph’s initial hatred of him after Minthe’s attack is excluded.

  Hermes and Hecate are left outside the tent, standing as guards at the ship’s railing. (Though, Hermes slouches and sits on the railing like a lazy passenger.) They will be able to hear the gods speak if they raise their voices, but for now, the small tent gives the couple some privacy.

  Hades goes first.

  “Why is the mortal man allowed to play in the first place? Why is he not driven out immediately when it is clear he does not belong?”

  Seph puts his hands on the table, leaning angrily over it. They do not raise their voices—yet.

  “How did he get in in the first place? That’s what I want to know.”

  Hades waves a hand airily. He does not like Seph looking at him like that, so displeased, so he sits as he says, “Anyone seeking the underworld can enter it. That’s the way it works. But mortals aren’t supposed to know how, and gods will find it very hard to achieve without using my gate. Unless they actually want to be here, which would be unique.”

  He hopes that sitting, remaining below Seph eye level, will help keep the discussion reasonable. Hades can stay in control, but Seph would not be the first or the last young god to lose his temper publicly.

  And I know perfectly well that he has the fires of the stallion…

  Hades has long left his yearning adolescence behind, but he also wants the discussion to stay peaceful so Seph will not be adverse to taking him tonight.

  “Well, when I arrived he was already out there tearing up the crowd and singing about vipers. Vipers!” Seph throws up his hands. “How many damn people die to snakes and vipers?! Is it all the time, or just today for some reason?”

  Hades is confused. “Do we have a sudden influx of viper-related deaths?” That sounds like a god’s plague, not a famine.

  “No.” Seph paces the short distance at his end of the table and then stops. The anger leaves his voice, and he sounds mostly concerned instead, perhaps worried. “Why is that man asking me about our marriage? Why is he asking if I find the bed comfortable? And if you provide for me well? Or if I have any ‘untended desires’?”

  Hades’s eyebrows go up, though he is not entirely surprised. Hermes’s concern for his cousin is genuine, but he would also use the opportunity to skim a little gossip. The spy, barterer, and messenger among the gods loves to trade whispers for favors.

  Hades plans a vague answer. He wants the rabbit to be a surprise. He also does not want Hermes to overhear how much Seph doesn’t remember, in case Demeter should find out how badly Seph was injured. That might cause a civil war among the gods, and already there is a dying Earth. By pure luck, Seph had the cane leaning against the barrels at the docks, and Hermes walked him away without the opportunity to pick it up again. Hades’s magic has been helping him since.


  “Your mother is the cause of all this. Like I told you. The seasons of Earth are long and harsh without her assistance, and she’s still pitching a fit over the marriage. Seph, I don’t want you to hate your mother, but you should know that you would find any private relationship difficult to maintain and be fruitful with her in your life. You are her son, and her only child. She keeps you as…” Hades winces. “… a substitute of sorts. I think she thinks that with a son she should never have to be lonely again.”

  And how are they talking about this and not the state of his kingdom? His ship dock looks like a farmyard. But he hopes he will get to that soon. Gently, in a way that doesn’t put him in a cold bed tonight.

  “I have thought about you every night and day we’ve been apart, Seph. I hoped that when we did meet, it would be with softer words, in our bedroom.” Outside the tent, barely audible, he hears Hecate’s, “Awww.”

  He chooses not to react to that and speaks a little quieter. “If you like, I can handle the matters here, and we can talk more about the family—” And the process of oath taking, he adds mentally, but he does not wish to start a fight. “—in the morning when we+ are both rested. Does that sound good?”

  Seph picks up his chin. “I already had this idiot figured out. Don’t you trust me?”

  Uh-oh. Not good.

  Hades suddenly feels very, very tired.

  It is not Seph’s fault. Any man or god with a little power then wants to use and test that power. But meanwhile, Hades’s kingdom seems to be crumbling, and the ferry behind them is still waiting to dock. The last thing he wants in this crisis is a queue of ships that never end.

  He will be very tempted to send more to Tartarus if that happens. He is doing as much as he can. He does not have time to let Seph figure himself out.

  They say nothing, only looking at each other, and Hades has the feeling he’s going to make a great mistake if he speaks. So he must be careful.

  “What do you have in mind, my king?” he asks inoffensively.

  “Do I need permission? Or are we not equal kings?” Seph sits in his chair at last, interlacing his fingers and setting them atop the table like a man about to make a business deal.

  Hades feels like he is staring at a little Zeus, one with full powers and a lightning bolt about to strike him on the head.

  “You did ask me for permission to oversee some city matters,” he says, still neutral in his expression and tone. Just stating a fact.

  Seph reaches across the small table and turns his palm up. “Do you not trust me? Do you not see us as equals?”

  Hades’s hand goes to his, and now they are more like lovers than opponents. Hades can never forget how close he came to losing these hands, this voice. This beautiful soul.

  He will not lose that over a crowded ship dock and some stupid mortal bard.

  “I trust you. Do as you like.”

  Hades shuts his eyes briefly.

  I’ve lost.

  If they were even arguing to begin with. It is not clear. But Seph has been more independent since Hades gave him Hecate, and he suspects that stripping Seph of his equality would be a mistake that ruins the rest of his life.

  Seph has been trying. But somehow, I have to make sure he succeeds. For the benefit of my citizens.

  Hades opens his eyes.

  “But as your husband and also your king, I don’t like to purposely be left in ignorance for dramatics and showing off. I am your mate. And I don’t think my request for information is undermining your authority in the task.”

  “You’re right. I was testing you. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t do that.”

  Hades nod silently, and Seph continues, “I was about to act when I saw you arrive, so I waited for you instead. It will create a commotion, and I know you will not like my decision initially—until I explain it.”

  “Do so then.” Hades lets go of his hand and leans back in his chair.

  Seph does not sound nervous as he speaks, nor does he hesitate or stutter. Too soon, those cute shy habits of his are gone.

  “Of course, I initially thought to solve it the way you would—by striking him dead with Hecate, or ordering Cerberus to chase him out. He got in somehow, so he can find his way back. But he already had the crowd entranced when I came, and I have been trying for weeks to increase happiness at the docks.

  “I think it’s working. I’m in the woods every day, but we haven’t had a true hunt in over a month.”

  “That is impressive,” Hades says with genuine awe. And a touch of confusion. The rate of souls coming in has only increased. So his trust in Seph must not have been wrongly placed after all. He’s glad he didn’t react too soon to this mess.

  “Yes, but the idiot out there will cause ten, twelve, or thirty hunts tomorrow! That’s if I run him off. Unless we wish to employ a militia—which I don’t recommend, it would only work on the youngest souls anyway—we have to be sensitive to the wants and needs of our newest children.”

  “And I agree,” Hades puts up his feet on the table, sinking in his chair. He longs to take his boots off. He is tired. And it sounds like Seph may have a better grasp of the situation than he imagined. He has never done this with the partner before. Could it be that making Seph an equal king makes his life easy?

  However, Seph warns him, “You won’t like this part… but I’m going to give the bard what he asks for. I’m going to send him with his wife back to the upperworld. So they can be reunited and live out their days in love.”

  My husband should be an oracle, not a king, Hades thinks darkly, removing his feet and sitting up. For Seph is right—he does not like it. Not at all.

  “Unacceptable. For obvious reasons. I do not give up my children to anyone who asks. I don’t care how deep their love is or what poetry they spew. And Seph—I thought you knew this—a soul going to the upperworld is permanent death.”

  Seph holds up his hands. “I know, I know. Hear me out. If we run him off with violence, we will be the evil ones. He’s won the crowd’s heart, whether we like it or not. Running him off will save all the souls, true. But it may increase the number of hunts to more than I can handle. Especially in just the next few days. And Hades… I think you know we are overwhelmed by this population.”

  He is right. Hades looks at the rings on his fingers as he considers. He has never sent good souls into Tartarus before, but just this week he had thought again: What if I have to?

  What if the good ones have to disappear as well because the underworld and its two kings cannot keep up?

  And then he thought, I’ll listen to the architects first. I’ll make their temporary boxes, as plain and thoughtless as slave quarters.

  But he always wanted to be a better king. Not a typical one.

  “So you have a solution?”

  “We give him what he wants. He takes the girl. We lose a few souls who follow. We don’t try at all to punish or cage them here.”

  Hades narrows his eyes. “So then they all start asking to leave! And they all perish for nothing, which is even worse than sending them into Tartarus. Why don’t we just put them all on a boat ‘sailing to the upperworld’ and call this what it is. A sacrifice to cover up our failure.”

  Seph shakes his head. “I don’t think we’ll have to do that. Most will choose not to go. We will only lose a few, and only for a little bit. You’re forgetting one thing, my husband. For most of these souls, their loved ones are already dead. They’re either here or they’re not. And the state of the Earth is so bad, most do not want to return anyway. We will lose very little, and the sacrifice will save a great many from the hunt. The ones staying after today will know that they chose to do so and they are not being forced.”

  “And what about the bard’s wife? What about her? When she dies, he will be back. And I won’t have another wife to give him.”

  Seph does not smile exactly, but there is a hint of smugness in his features. A pride over the decision he’s reached. He looks like a true underworld king, even if h
e has tan skin and he chooses to leave his obsidian laurel wreath at home most days.

  “That is why we lie. We tell him and the wife not to speak to each other. We tell this to all the souls who want to follow them out. Silence is absolutely necessary. And we tell the bard not to look backward as he travels on his journey. He’s not to know she’s there. We will help them cross the River Styx, but it is a long walk out of the underworld. If he fails in his task, even once, we make it clear that the journey might not work.”

  “And then he assumes the deaths are his fault…” Hades finishes, thinking over the plan. It is a good plan. In that it will work. It is not good at all actually, which makes him think Seph might have lost more than he realized to the waters of Tartarus. But is that because of lost essence and memories? Or simply the adjustment that must be made when one realizes the true dark nature of things, that death and life are a cycle, and individuals are made up of everyone else?

  “What’s the matter? You think the idea is too cruel?” Seph looks worried again. Perhaps he is fine with leaving an innocent bard to believe he is responsible for his wife’s second murder, but disappointment from his husband king seems to matter.

  “No,” Hades says, standing and walking around the table. He takes Seph’s hands and draws him up. They are the same height. Two equal kings in power and purpose. Exactly what the underworld needs to make it through this difficult time.

  “I think it’s perfect,” Hades says and bows to him.

  Fifty

  Hades, Hermes, and Hecate stand at the bottom of the ramp leading up to the empty boat. A third boat is soon approaching the harbor, just a growing speck for now but it nags Hades’s pride that his dock should be so sloppily run. And there’s still the issue of the animals to address. Leaving the tent, eager to deliver the news to the bard and enact the decision he’s reached, Seph briefly explained that the animals were to make people feel comfortable. He did not stay around to hear what Hades thought about that, or if he had any objections.