10

I wrenched my eyes from the vision. “Brother! You said you’d never abandon your family.”

“Sister? You’re still here?” He seemed to recover from his daze. “Did you see Helen’s expression? She needs me.”

Those were Helenus’s exact words too: She needs me.

He turned to Aphrodite. “Will you take me to her?”

“I’ll do more, lovey. I’ll make sure you win her.” She led him out.

I called after them helplessly, “Don’t bring her to Troy.”

He said over his shoulder, “I won’t.”

He would. I had failed to break the lowest rung in the ladder to our ruin.

When Aphrodite’s and Paris’s footsteps ceased echoing, Athena vanished.

“The goddess of love can’t resist herself.” Hera laughed. “And I can’t resist instructing people. Cassandra, a sparrow can’t move the moon. A sardine can’t stop a whale. A single mortal—or several of you—can’t cause the enormous ship of fate to swerve. Think of the size of it! Even we gods and goddesses are on it! You may change the next ten minutes, but the rest of time doesn’t budge.” She paused. “Aphrodite gave your brother a gift for choosing her. I’ll give you one for picking me. Would you like to be mistress of Europe and Asia?”

“Will that save Troy?”

“It will save only you. You’ll emerge from Troy’s ashes.”

I threw back my head. “If you please, lift Apollo’s curse.” I went on despite her frown. “Let people believe me.”

“I won’t go against Apollo. What else?”

“Would you help Troy in the war?”

“And not punish Paris? All the immortals will take sides. Something else.”

What? “Save Hector.”

“Fate will decide that. I can’t intercede.”

I wasn’t enough of a noddy-peak to waste her gift on a necklace or other bauble. “May I wait to decide? May I call on you later?”

She nodded.

That was something. “Thank you!” I smiled.

Her eyebrows rose. “I see why Apollo was taken with you. Farewell.”

After she vanished, I tried and failed to find Oenone. Eurus carried me back to the sacred grove, where we sat together on his altar. While the sky darkened to dusk, I related everything that had happened.

“I should have blown your brother to the middle of the sea when I could have. Now Aphrodite protects him.”

I feared he’d yell at himself again. “The goddesses would have found him there, and they would have been angry at you. I’m the one who failed.”

“You were clever with Hera! Few mortals have won gifts from the gods.”

He’d cheered me again, but he didn’t know what gift I should ask for. “My wind may sweep away the dust and then we’ll see.”

I crossed my legs. “Paris will leave Sparta with Helen and bring her to Troy. My parents will be so happy to see him alive that they’ll let them in. Menelaus, Helen’s husband, will gather ships and an army and sail to Troy.”

Eurus patted my arm.

“Will you take me to Sparta? If I can keep Paris and Helen from running off together, there won’t be a war.” This would be the next rung.

He frowned. “Don’t you know I will?”

Was he angry? I jumped off the altar and looked up at him in the dying light. “I don’t! I can’t foretell what immortals will say or do.”

“You already told me that.”

“Then how would I know—”

“Because I carried you to Mount Ida!” He left the altar too and waved his arms.

My hair blew about. Would he freeze into his statue and leave me?

“My wind changes direction. I don’t.”

Tears stood out in my eyes.

“Don’t cry!” His eyes were wet too.

I smiled. He smiled.

The next morning, after half an hour at my loom and another half hour playing with Maera in Troy’s alleys, I brought offerings to the three goddesses, as I’d promised, and to Eurus, as he expected.

He ate and smiled at the same time.

Though the journey to Sparta by ship and on foot would take Paris a month, Eurus said that he and I would need only three days. Since Mother had given me permission to go to the sacred grove, I visited him daily. We spent much of the waiting time practicing flying without killing me.

I learned to cling to him with my arms around his chest and my legs around his waist, which made my heart fluttery.

The first time I clung, Eurus took my hands away—gently—and held up a finger for me to wait. After a few seconds, he breathed deeply and nodded. I clasped him again, and this time he seemed untroubled, but my heart still quivered.

He continued to worry about my safety. “You’ll tire and loosen your grip.” He vanished and reappeared a few minutes later, bearing a pale blue sash exactly the color of my peplos. “Hera wove it.”

Was that her present? I could have gotten a sash from home.

“She said it didn’t use up the gift she promised you.”

Whew!

A line of tiny marks ran along half the length of the cloth. When I brought the sash close to my eyes, I saw that the marks were letters. “Can you read what it says?”

Father, several of his councilors, Hector, and Helenus could read, but few others had the skill.

Eurus read, “‘All your attempts will be for naught, but this will not let you fall.’”

Thank you, Hera. “We have to prove her wrong about failing.”

“You will! We will!”

We flew low for an hour, using the sash, and Eurus said it would do.

Hooray! We could go to Sparta!

I thanked Eurus a dozen times. His face reddened. Lesser gods seemed unaccustomed to a worshipper’s gratitude.

I must have been unused to feeling this grateful. I didn’t usually blush so often, either.

During the week after the festival, Mother was often called away from her weaving to join Father in interviewing parents who wanted me for a daughter-in-law. Each time, she told me the name of the young man in question. “Of course, you’ll wait the customary three years before you wed.”

Whatever the suitor’s name, I’d peek forward to see what would happen to him in the war. Sooner or later, one way or another, they all died.

“Darling,” she said once, stepping away from her loom and grasping my shoulders, “if there are any young men you’ve noticed at festivals—any you’ve fallen asleep thinking of—tell me. As long as the family is suitable . . . We want you to be happy.”

I hugged her. “I know. Thank you.”

She let me go and picked up her shuttle. “Think about it. You can name two or three. That will help us.”

Since I couldn’t foresee into a changed future, I wasn’t sure, but if Eurus and I succeeded, I would almost certainly marry. For my lucky future self, I should choose someone I admired.

While I wove, I brought the young men forward in my imagination as I’d seen them in games. This one was agile; that one was godlike in handsomeness; another was gracious in defeat; a few were friends of Hector, which spoke well for them.

But when I pictured their faces, I gave them a fringe of beard and mismatched eyebrows.