“That is exactly what I want,” Persephone said, her pique soothed when she understood what Cyros planned to build. It flashed through her mind that the pair had devised the complex idea very quickly or, more likely, had built similar conveyances before. That hardly mattered to her, except that it almost guaranteed they would keep the work secret. “How soon can it be done, and what will be the charge?”
“Within a moon,” Cyriakos said, and named a price.
The price was high, as Eulimine warned, but gold and gems were not precious to Persephone anymore. She bargained because she was sure the carpenter would be suspicious if she did not. She pleaded for a more reasonable fee, saying her father would be angry with her for paying so much or might insist she find another carpenter, but she was so happy that her plain face grew less plain. Eventually they agreed and she said she would obtain her father’s approval and pay one quarter of the fee the next day. To seal the bargain, she passed to Cyriakos two new twists of gold wire.
He felt the softness of the metal and smiled. “I will send Cyros at this time tomorrow,” Cyriakos said. “He will bring samples of the wood and the stains so you can choose.”
Persephone nodded. “I will come if I can. If my father is having a bad day, I will leave the key to this house and the gold with Eulimine. You can put the samples here, and I will send word to you of which I favor as soon as I can.”
She went back to thank Eulimine for her help and to leave the key and a pouch she had concealed that contained some battered and broken links of a heavy gold chain. The links came from one of several pieces of jewelry she had pounded apart one night in a distant corner of the garden, knowing she would need metal to pay for the litter, for her passage, for servants to carry the litter—and perhaps for bribes. She gave several small pieces of gold to Eulimine: “to hold for her until she sailed, in case she might not be able to get what she needed herself, and to keep thereafter.” What Persephone dared not say aloud until she could get Eulimine into Pontoporeia’s house was that she would need her to hire porters to carry her “father” to a ship.
She had not intended to come the next day; she feared going to the town three days in succession might draw attention, but she simply could not bear to delay the work on the litter, which she realized must happen if she did not tell Cyros which wood and stain she wanted him to use. She had a fright when the guard at the gate smiled at her as she passed through, and she hurried back to the palace after drawing Cyros into Pontoporeia’s house, choosing—almost at random—the wood and stain, paying him, and arranging to meet him at the same place a week later with the next quarter payment.
For the next few days, she spent her time with the young women who frequented the palace. She found it very easy to be silly and she laughed a lot to cover her difficulty in concentrating on their talk and amusements. Her mind was busy devising a plan to get her mother to come into the town with her. In the time Persephone had been on Aegina, Demeter had never left the palace, although she knew from what Pontoporeia had said that her mother must have blessed the seed and the fields the past spring. That, Persephone thought, must be her lever. She knew when she would have to use it—any day after the litter was finished and delivered on which Poseidon was away from the palace—but she could not yet see how to use it.
One thing she realized was that she must pretend to be on better terms with her mother or it would not be reasonable to seek her company when she needed to get her into Pontoporiea’s house. Once there, she would have to find a way to make her swallow a spoonful of Pontoporeia’s sleeping potion. After that, Demeter could be bundled into the bottom of the litter or perhaps, wrapped beyond recognition, be carried in the body of the litter itself, disguised as Persephone’s sick father.
Persephone found the approach to her mother far easier than she expected; in fact, it was Demeter who showed the way by remarking—about the middle of the first week that Cyros was working on the litter—that she was very happy to learn from Neso that Kore was beginning to enjoy her friends in Aegina, in the palace and in the town. Persephone’s heart almost stopped on those last words, but Demeter patted her cheek and said she was well content for little Kore to have her freedom. She had never intended, Demeter went on, to make a prisoner of her daughter but only to protect her from being made the tool of an unscrupulous mage. Since Kore had learned so well to conceal her Gift and had done nothing foolish, why should she not visit the town?
Fortunately, Persephone was so frightened that she did not flinch away from her mother’s hand. She stammered something about seeking distraction for her grief over losing her husband, and Demeter laughed and told her not to be so stubborn and spiteful.
“You do not really miss him anymore,” she said. “Only when you deliberately remind yourself to punish me. I do not understand why you find those coarse natives more attractive than the young folk in the palace—although I suppose none of the men will come near you now, after the way you knocked down Momos. I just wanted you to know, Kore, that I am tired of your weeping and blaming me and then, having assuaged your silly guilt—after all, you owe nothing to a man who abducted and raped you—dancing out and enjoying yourself.”
Lowering her eyes to conceal the rage in them was another happy accident. Her mother immediately embraced her and murmured, “There, there, dearling. I do not mean to scold you, but I am jealous when I see you laughing with the maidens of the court and confiding in a coarse woman who makes pots in the town and I get nothing but reproaches and tears.”
Demeter spoke just long enough for Persephone’s anger to be completely wiped out by her realization that she had accomplished her purpose without even trying. Demeter herself had opened the path to Persephone’s change in behavior and provided the reason for it. In the next moment Persephone recalled that before her mother had spoken those disgusting lies about Hades she had given her tacit leave to spend time in the town. With her head still bowed, she murmured, “Yes, mother,” almost choking on her joy.
After that it was hard not to laugh all the time, to remember not to embrace and kiss Demeter out of the sheer happiness of knowing her mother’s self-absorbed blindness would make escape possible. Within a moon or six weeks, Persephone was sure she would be back in Hades’s arms. She reminded herself that too rapid a change of mood might arouse suspicion of its sincerity in her mother, but often the hope and anticipation leaked through and Persephone’s eyes shone a deeper, brighter amber, her hair gleamed more golden, and her lips softened into a fuller, lovelier line.
She was too happy to realize that, even though she was aware that the young men were inching closer again. She ignored them, thinking she would spend little time with them. Since Demeter knew of her trips into town, Persephone felt she could go more frequently. The first time, although she remembered to wear her plain clothing and plain face so she would not shock Eulimine, the potter smiled at her after a moment and said, “Your father is better.”
“Yes,” Persephone said, also smiling. “How did you know?”
“You look as if a heavy weight had dropped off your back.”
Persephone took a deep breath and lowered her eyes. First her mother and now Eulimine were saying and doing of themselves what she had schemed and planned to maneuver them into doing.
“I feel that way,” she admitted. “Yet I must not hope too much. This has happened before, in fact before we set out for Aegina he recovered from a bad attack and was very well until he fell ill soon after we arrived. Still, he is much improved—” She hesitated, then leaned close to whisper, as one does when to speak of good fortune aloud might bring it to the attention of some malevolent power. “He feels so well that he has begun to talk of going home—alive. He is so eager that he has given me leave to offer Cyros an extra quarter payment if he will finish the work on the litter within two weeks more.” She straightened, bit her lip, then smiled pleadingly and asked aloud, “Could you interrupt your work and go now to ask him to meet me at Pontoporeia’s house?”
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“If I do, this vessel will crack when I fire it. Wait until it is sound and I will go.”
“Please, Eulimine?” Persephone was whispering again, praying her voice was too low for the scryer to hear. “I am being silly, I know, but I feel as if every minute is important. As if papa will get sick again just an hour before the litter is ready if I do not speak to Cyros at once. Oh, please? Let me buy the vessel, just as it is.” She giggled faintly. “If we take ship for home, I will keep it always as a memory of this moment when my spirits soared.”
Eulimine shook her head, but she laughed and rose to take the large, squat container and move it to the drying rack.
“Thank you,” Persephone cried, embracing her as she wiped her hands. “I will meet him at Pontoporeia’s house,” she cried as she danced to the door, but she did not forget to put several bits of copper on the table as she passed.
With the full power of the no-see-no-hear spell invoked, she could speak plainly. It did not take long to convince Cyros to agree to put aside all other work to finish the litter after he weighed the gold she offered in his hand. He was somewhat more reluctant to agree to discover for her what ships would be leaving Aegina for the whole week after the date on which he would deliver the litter. He seemed suspicious, reminding her that she had promised not to take a corpse aboard any ship based in Aegina. She explained at length about her father’s recovery and that he was completing his business as quickly as he could now that he was better, but she could not be sure of the exact day he would be ready to leave.
Cyros remained reluctant until Persephone was visited by an inspiration and asked about the cushions and padding for the inside of the litter. At that, Cyros brightened. She could see him thinking that one does not worry about cushions for a dead man, and he said he would see to those details too, for another quarter-bit of gold. And when she agreed to that, he said he would find out about the ships for her, but that she would have to meet him again in two more days to choose the leather or fabric for the linings. She agreed immediately, without showing any doubt that she would be free, and he left the house just ahead of her with a broad, satisfied smile on his face.
* * * *
The next two weeks were so busy for Persephone that she had no time to be nervous or to think much about the fact that Poseidon had twice called her up to speak to him. Joy had not quite unseated her reason, so she remained withdrawn in his presence, eyes downcast, saying not a single word more than was necessary to answer his questions and keeping well out of his reach.
Her mother asked questions too, specifically about the people she met in the town. She answered with half-truths—mentioning a farm just outside of the town where she went to watch the pigs. She had indeed gone there several times so she could dose a young sow with differing amounts of Pontoporeia’s sleeping draught, and see it, a few days later quite recovered, none the worse for its long sleep. She spoke most of Eulimine and how fascinating she found the making of pots. She even mentioned the metalchanger who had given her copper and silver for gold—but she never mentioned Pontoporeia’s house or Cyros.
From knowing glances and a remark or two she gathered that her mother knew about the bespelled house but thought she was meeting a man there. She made no effort to deny this, merely laughing and shaking her head, delighted because it was clear Demeter believed the house was bespelled to conceal romantic meetings. If the idea had not served her purpose so well, she would have been furious at the notion she would betray Hades, but she was too amused by the fact that Demeter would likely fall into a trap of her own making. If she could not think of a reason relating to the Goddess to induce Demeter to come to Pontoporeia’s house, Persephone thought, she could always ask her to come to meet her lover.
A few days later she met Gyros one last time. The litter stood against the back wall of Pontoporeia’s house, at right angles to it, protruding into the room. They spent some time together, Gyros proudly displaying the beauty of his work and showing Persephone how to raise, lower, and adjust the panels that covered the lower carrying portion. Persephone was rather surprised at the size of the litter and Gyros said he had judged from her height that her father was a big man. Since she could not admit it was her mother, who was a smaller woman, that she planned to carry in it, she sighed and said her father had been tall once but was now sadly shrunken.
When at last he was certain the beauties of his skill had been duly understood and admired, Gyros relayed to her the names and berths of the ships that were expected to sail out of Aegina the following week. Thoughtfully, Persephone remarked that her father continued very well and might now linger in Aegina a few days or even a week or two longer. Would Gyros bring the shipping information the next week if Eulimine asked for it? Then she paid, and added still an extra bit above the bonus she had promised. Gyros looked at the metal in his hand and said he would be happy to pass any information the lady desired, and he walked out the door smiling broadly, pausing to bow before he turned away.
Persephone almost danced all the way back to the palace. Now she had only to wait until Poseidon would be gone for a while and get her mother to the town. In preparation, she asked Neso what she hoped would be considered innocent questions about Poseidon—could he really breathe under water? and could he really talk to the creatures of the sea? and did he truly live in the sea when he left the palace? and how long could he live there? Neso answered as freely as she always did when she felt her answers would enhance her master’s power and prestige, but Persephone soon noticed the sea girl’s speculative expression and grew alarmed.
“Oh, do not tell him I have been asking about him,” Persephone begged. “It is none of my business, I know. He might be angry with you for gossiping and me for asking.”
“I promise you he will not be angry,” Neso said, smiling, but then, seeing that Persephone looked really frightened, she added, “I will not tell him what you asked.”
Having what she thought was agreement, Persephone hastened to change the subject. She spoke about how much warmer it was in Aegina than in her home and asked if spring had yet touched the valleys away from the sea.
Neso shook her head. “I am of the sea,” she pointed out. “I do not travel far from the water. You should ask your mother if you wish to learn of the land.”
Armed with this remark, Persephone later reproached Demeter for going on excursions without her. Demeter laughed and pointed out that until recently her daughter had been in no mood to accompany her.
“But what do you do?” Persephone asked.
Demeter lowered her eyes and a small satisfied smile curved the corners of her lips. “I have taught the women to worship the Goddess again,” she said softly, “and I have taught the Gifted to draw in Her power to give back to the earth and the seed.”
“That is wonderful, Mother,” Persephone said, taking her mother’s hands. Then she frowned. “But She has no temple in the town.”
Demeter sighed. “Nor will She. The sea king desires no rivals and will permit no temples to any god or goddess, even the Mother. He gives leave to a few weak workers of magic to sell small spells, but all who are discovered to be truly Gifted—men and women alike—he orders thrown into the sea where they are devoured by his creatures.”
“That is horrible,” Persephone breathed.
Demeter looked at her coldly. “More horrible than being driven into the underworld with stones and whips?”
“But—” Persephone cut off the protest and lowered her eyes. Hades’s secret would not be safe with her mother.
A slight smile marked Demeter’s triumph when her daughter did not persist in her defense of the underworld, but she did not labor the point. She went on, as if there had been no interruption, “Nonetheless, the women I have brought to worship Her have built shrines in secret places and I have blessed those shrines and felt the Goddess accept them. Would you like to see them?”
“Yes, indeed!” Persephone’s eyes widened, and then she smiled and deliberately leak
ed a taste of power for her mother to suck in.
She felt Demeter deserved that for not catching her near admission that those driven into the underworld did not die horribly but lived long, productive lives in Plutos. More important, her mother had also provided the answer to her last problem, so she kissed Demeter warmly and asked if they could go after the noon meal the next day. That, Persephone thought, should make them late enough in returning to miss the normal dinner hour.
Demeter raised her brows, and muttered what Persephone thought was the word “lust” under her breath, but aloud she only agreed to her daughter’s proposal. That annoyed Persephone, who was effectively muzzled. She could scarcely defend herself against her mother’s assumption that she was such a fool and slave to her body that she would put off a devotion to the Goddess to meet her lover in the town.
The irritation salved the slight pang of guilt Persephone had felt over perverting Demeter’s real dedication to the Goddess to her own purposes. As she returned to her room, she resolved again that she would use the bait Demeter had provided. She would tell her mother that the reason Pontoporeia’s house was bespelled was that a shrine had been built there. Then she would confess she had not told her mother sooner because she was trying to call the Goddess to the new shrine herself and had failed. Persephone was certain, after that admission, that Demeter would come to bless it.
Now, if only Poseidon would go away—or was that really necessary? If she and Demeter went into the farmland together and returned once or twice, especially if they usually came back too late to attend Poseidon’s court dinner, would he notice they were missing at once on the day they took ship? And what if he did notice? Immediately an ugly question she had not faced before came into her mind. Was Demeter as much a prisoner as she? Would the sea king, as she had been assuming all along, accept her mother’s departure with her or would he be angry enough to sink the ship on which they were traveling?
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