Thrice Bound

by Roberta Gellis

  "A seer! Truly?" Zeus' expression now betrayed a lively interest.

  "Truly," Hekate assured him.

  She didn't bother to tell him that interpretation of Dionysos' predictions, particularly those for the far future, was sometimes very difficult. More than two thirds of the time she had guessed wrong and only understood what he had been trying to tell her after the event had taken place. Nor did she tell Zeus that Dionysos could drive others into frenzies of hate, panic, and terror.

  That Dionysos was a seer had interested Zeus enough so she only added, "He is very young. I had to leave him in the care of his aunt and had no chance to test all of his abilities. The other Gift I know best, I don't understand. It has to do with a fruit used to make wine, not dates but a small round fruit that grows in bunches—"

  "Grapes," Zeus said, but he wasn't terribly interested in that ability.

  "I need to bring Dionysos here," Hekate said. "He Saw that he would come to Olympus after he had established this fruit, this grape, in Ka'anan and other lands."

  Zeus frowned and shook his head slowly. "I would like to see my son, since you say he is well Gifted, but it would be dangerous to bring him here. My wife, Hera, is not very welcoming to my children born of other mothers."

  "No?" Hekate laughed aloud. "Then be sure to warn Dionysos that Hera is your beloved wife and you don't wish harm to come to her."

  "Harm to come to her?" Zeus echoed, stared at Hekate hard for a moment, and then asked, "So if Dionysos is as powerful as you say, why didn't he make his way to Olympus as have my other true sons?"

  "I told you he was too young and, besides, he had Seen the time when he must come to you. You Olympians do not count years, since they matter little, but Dionysos is—" she hesitated and looked down at Kabeiros, who said, *Less than twenty years, but not by much. I've lost count myself.*

  "Who is that speaking?" Zeus asked sharply, and his shields tightened, although Hekate thought she could still get though them.

  It was interesting that he "heard" Kabeiros but could not determine from where the "voice" came. How fortunate that he had betrayed the ability before she and Kabeiros engaged in some less-than-diplomatic comments. Hekate took warning never to judge any Olympian's Gifts before she was able to test them in some way. She allowed herself to look surprised.

  "That voice is Kabeiros'," she said. "He wears the guise of a dog because a spell has got tangled in his organ of power and prevents him from shifting to a man. I understand that you are a master shape-shifter—a bull, a swan . . ."

  Zeus cleared his throat. "Ah, yes, the black dog with white eyes," he said, but then he brought his brows together in a black scowl. "You tell the same tale to everyone, and Artemis, Hephaestos, and others—even little Hebe—confirm that the tale is true. Nonetheless, I find it hard to believe. I think you had other purposes in coming to Olympus. You're a Titan, aren't you?"

  "Lord Zeus," she said, now completely sincere and hoping he could sense it, "I swear I don't know. When Lady Artemis asked, I said `no' in good faith, but I didn't even know what a Titan was at that time. I thought they were some kind of giants. When Hermes asked, I was more doubtful. I told him the truth, that my mother was not. She was of a well-known family in Ka'anan."

  "And your father?"

  Hekate looked away and put a hand on Kabeiros for support. "I know nothing of my father's antecedents," she said in a low voice. "To tell the truth, he is a truly mighty sorcerer and I am afraid of him. He accepts no restraints; he indulges in blood magic and calls and binds otherplanar creatures to his will."

  "That was exactly what Kronos said of the Titans of Olympus. He said their power knew no bounds, that in only a little time their magic would overwhelm the Gifts of the Olympians. I didn't believe him. My mother Rhea had no dangerous magical powers. She had a few small spells, which she used to hide us from his wrath. And Leto has no magic at all. But you . . . you are a different thing entirely. I can easily imagine you spreading magic through Olympus and setting one of my turbulent children against another until this peaceful valley is a shambles of blood and death."

  "I never would!" Hekate exclaimed. "Lord Zeus, with your permission and approval, I deeply desire to make Olympus my home. I have come to love some of the Olympians and I have a house I love and I am oath-bound to bring Dionysos here. As to the spells, you know I have been careful. I have given to your people in trade only that which fits with their Gifts."

  Zeus's lips parted to voice a denial, but he closed his mouth and thought. "So you haven't," he said, sounding suprised. "And why is that?"

  Hekate smiled, with gentle amusement this time. "For the same reason that you objected to my teaching them magic at all. It had come to my attention that most Olympians, even some of those I love best, are . . . to say the least, willful and accustomed to having their way. To give them a whole new way to enforce their will . . ." She shuddered.

  "That sounds very sensible," Zeus said, "but you could not have known and loved Olympians when you first made your way to our valley—and I would like to know how you pierced the illusion and escaped the punishment spell."

  "I have no wish to offend, but the illusion was child's play to me. I can offer you a far better illusion, bonded to the blood of the earth so it will never need renewal. As to the punishment spell: it could not pierce my shields and Kabeiros is immune to magic." She sighed. "If he were not, I could have freed him of the evil spell that binds him."

  Zeus continued to frown, but more thoughtfully than angrily. "What you say is tempting and reasonable, but I still think you had another purpose in coming to Olympus."

  "I had several," Hekate admitted. "I had to come to a place where shape-shifters are not anathema. I wanted to live in a city that accepted magic. And I had to leave Colchis in a hurry because I offended Princess Medea. Moreover, I am beginning to think that fate had a hand in my coming. I had almost forgotten Dionysos, but it was like a bolt through my heart when I saw you." She smiled at him again. "If you wanted to be rid of your beard, you wouldn't need a mirror if Dionysos was in the room, so much alike you two are."

  Zeus immediately looked interested. "So he resembles me in feature?"

  "Exactly, except that his eyes are larger and a little staring. You are the handsomer for that, but still, hair, forehead, nose, mouth, chin, the shape of the face . . ." She hesitated, frowning. "Now I remember, too, what he said before Seeing he must come here. I felt terrible when I knew I had to leave him, and I asked if he wished to come with me to a place of refuge, and he said, `I can't go there now. I must meet you there some other time.'"

  "He Saw that? How long ago?"

  Hekate looked down at Kabeiros. "How long?"

  *Five years. Perhaps six.*

  "Six years foreseeing," Zeus said with satisfaction. "That's a sensible kind of interval. One could do something and hope for some success." Zeus nodded. "Dionysos may come. I will test him, and if he is truly my son and strong enough, he may stay—if he can protect himself from Hera. But that brings us back to the original problem. What can you do about the magic spells that you've sold Olympians?"

  In the excitement of realizing where Dionysos belonged, and gaining Zeus' permission for him to come to Olympus, Hekate had temporarily forgotten Zeus' objection to magic, or, rather, to anyone except himself using it.

  She said, "I can do nothing about the spells I've already bartered for goods. I'm sorry if it was forbidden. No one who traded with me admitted it was forbidden."

  "It's not precisely forbidden, although I explained why I'm not very happy about the use of magic."

  "And I agreed with you. My lord, I told you I wish very much to make Olympus my home. I'm happy here and there is the possibility that one of your people will find a cure for Kabeiros' condition. Can we come to a compromise?"

  "What kind of compromise?"

  "You have agreed to receive Dionysos. I will go to fetch him from Ka'anan. That will take almost a year, I think. For the privilege of being allow
ed to live in Olympus, I will give you a new illusion to cover the valley."

  "And a new deterrent spell? Ours didn't seem to deter you."

  Hekate reviewed her spells and shook her head. "Mine would kill. I'm sure yours will be sufficient. And I promise that during the year I am traveling, I will seek for a better spell of deterrence or, perhaps, create one. Also, during the year I am gone, you will have time enough to study those Olympians to whom I have sold magic and see what effect the spells they now own have had upon them. If there is some type of spell you think particularly dangerous, I would even agree not to sell that."

  "But when you return, you will continue to sell spells although you know I don't like it. Why?

  "Why?" Hekate repeated, looking amazed. "Because I need slaves to keep my house, I need food and drink to feed them and to feed Kabeiros and me, I need hay and grain to feed my mule. What else have I to trade?"

  The expression that Hekate had noted Dionysos never wore when looking at her returned to Zeus' face. "You are a very beautiful woman," he said. "You could have come to me and I would have seen that you were supplied with your needs."

  He stepped forward and put out a hand to lift Hekate's chin and she shifted to the crone.

  "Beautiful?" She cackled with laughter as Zeus pulled his hand back and stepped away. "When my body is lusted after by a man, this is what happens to me."

  "Surely you can control it," Zeus snapped.

  Kabeiros growled and took a step forward, his hackles rising, his teeth bared. Zeus waved a hand at him and began to speak a spell. Hekate pointed and said, "Mha thon Dia!" Zeus stopped speaking, his mouth open but wordless. His eyes bulged until he was completely the image of Dionysos.

  "Stop, Kabeiros!" Hekate said sharply. Then, to Zeus, "Forgive me. I couldn't let you try to bespell Kabeiros. I believe he is immune to magic, but you are very powerful. I have done you no harm. If you agree not to attack us, I will remove the impediment to your spell-casting."

  "I am shielded," Zeus gasped, eyes still staring. "How did you get through my shields?"

  "Your shields are not very strong," she said quietly. "And there are . . . spaces through which my magic can pass."

  There was another silence during which their gazes clashed. Then, diplomatically, Hekate looked down.

  After a moment, Zeus turned and went to sit in a high-backed chair against the wall. Hekate stood quietly with her head bowed. Finally Zeus asked, "Could you have killed me?"

  For perhaps ten heartbeats Hekate considered the consequences of both yea and nay. Then she said, "Yes."

  "So, why didn't you?"

  Involuntarily Hekate's arms went around herself, and she huddled in, making herself small in rejection. Terrible memories flashed by, memories of horrors she had seen and heard, of Dionysos' vision of her father making blood sacrifice.

  "No," she breathed. "I do not kill with or for magic. Never. There are other ways if killing is needed, a bow, a knife, Kabeiros' teeth." She swallowed hard and stood tall. "Besides, I am not an idiot. Your people love you, Lord Zeus. Oh, I know they argue and complain, but every one acknowledges you as king in Olympus and is satisfied with your rule. One by one I might withstand, but if harm came to you they would all band together, and I would never survive." She pointed at Zeus again and said, "Metatheto mha thon Dia." Zeus drew a long breath. "I know the spell again."

  Hekate nodded. "I've done you no harm," she said. "You are as you were before."

  He stared at the crone, shuddered slightly, and said, "Rid yourself of that disgusting form. I will not force you. I have seduced many women and with some I used deception, but I have never forced one." And when Hekate stood before him as the woman again, he asked, "Where are your shrines, your worshipers?"

  "I have neither shrine nor worshipers—as far as I know," Hekate said. "I'm no goddess, nor near to being divine." Now it was her turn to shudder. "I can think of nothing more horrible than being responsible for doing something about the prayers and pleas of people wholly unknown to me."

  Zeus laughed. "You don't have to listen, you know."

  "I'm not an Olympian," she said tartly, and then as the full meaning of the words struck her, tears came to her eyes. She sighed. "No, I'm not an Olympian," and she bent and hugged Kabeiros to her. "I will go," she whispered.

  "No. I'll not banish you, but I need some assurance . . . Whom do you worship?"

  A very slight hesitation showed that Hekate knew what she was about to say would not be welcome. Then she shrugged. "I worship the Mother," she said defiantly.

  Zeus winced very slightly. "You would," he muttered, but then his expression cleared and his lips pursed thoughtfully. "You truly believe, don't you?"

  She made the sign of completion. "I do."

  "Then you will swear, by the Mother, that you will never knowingly harm me personally or bring harm to Olympus."

  Hekate thought that over and then said, "I can swear I will never knowingly bring harm to Olympus, but I cannot swear not to harm you. I can swear never to direct at you a spell that will disable you or kill you, but you might be harmed by a passive defense I erected."

  "What kind of passive defense could harm me?"

  "I have used a mirror shield as a defense. If you cast lightning at me and it bounced off my mirror and struck you, you would be harmed. Certainly a spell Princess Medea cast at me gave her a severe shock when it bounced back."

  Zeus sat quiet, watching her. Hekate guessed he no longer regarded her as a personal threat, that he accepted as true her claim that she would only defend herself, not attack. Now, she thought, he was weighing the risk of having her remain in Olympus against the uses he might make of her skills in the future.

  "Let me hear how you would word the oath," he said at last.

  "By the Mother, I swear I will never knowingly bring harm to Olympus or its inhabitants, and in particular I will never knowingly work a spell that will disable, injure, or kill the Lord Zeus nor affect his power, although I do not swear to eschew passive defense against him if he attacks me or Kabeiros."

  Another thoughtful silence, then Zeus nodded sharply. "Done," he said. "Now swear."

  Hekate brought to mind the ruined temple and the stone that stood on the altar there. When it was clear in her mind, the strange eyes that were not eyes fixed on her, she repeated the oath. For a single instant the well of power within her was utterly empty; the floor beneath her feet was only polished white marble, the faint red glow of the earth's blood of which she had been constantly aware was gone; her sense of Kabeiros as a man, as anything beyond a dog was gone; only her physical senses remained. Terror stopped her breath, but before she could cry out or fall unconscious, struck down by horror, everything was back to normal.

  "I understand," she whispered, trembling, not speaking to Zeus. "I understand, Mother. I will not again take Your name in vain to confirm a silly swearing."

  Oddly, Zeus must have felt something too. He had a hand raised to his cheek, as if he had been sharply slapped. His face was white and his lower lip caught between his teeth. He stood up from his chair, but kept one hand on it for support, and he gestured at Hekate.

  "That's all," he said. "You are free of Olympus, to come and go as you please. Now go!"

  CHAPTER 22

  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 city of Egypt. Ships left regularly from there for Byblos and Hekate was able to secure passage on one that carried two other women as well as several traders. She bought the passage in the form of the crone but came aboard later as the blonde, barely nubile, blue-eyed girl.

  The girl was a form Hekate's father had never seen, and he had never known her to be accompanied by a black dog either. Nonetheless they didn't linger in Byblos, staying only long enough to gather supplies and take a night's rest before they set out for the mountains.

  Kabeiros had been totally withdra
wn all through the voyage and had not even offered advice about the supplies Hekate bought, accepting the pack she strapped over his shoulders without a word. Hekate did not prod him, racked alternately by guilt for abandoning the quest for a cure for his condition and resentment over his blaming her for leaving Olympus without a greater struggle. At first she had tried to explain to him the growing need she felt to bring Dionysos to Olympus and also her feeling that it was best to be out of the way so Zeus could rationalize accepting her without further irritation. Now she was mentally as silent as he.

  The second night, Kabeiros disappeared from the campsite before Hekate 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."