I WAS HALFWAY TO THE BOTTOM when Ajax’ war cry echoed across the valley. A moment later, my rope went slack. I had a brief opportunity to curse before tumbling to the ground, my armor ringing about me like a sack of coins. Once I’d reached the bottom, I lay on my back, breathless and dazed. I could see Proteus, sitting cross-legged on a nearby rock.
“You!” I gasped from where I lay. “You could have saved him.”
Proteus looked surprised. “Perhaps. But it is not my way to meddle in the affairs of men.”
“That’s exactly what you’ve been doing all along!”
Again, he looked surprised. “Why, yes. I suppose that is true as well. Perhaps I should have said that it is not my way to meddle in the affairs of men unless it benefits me.”
“But you are a man!”
Proteus mused on what I’d said. “I was a man . . . once. But I have been many other things since.”
“You let a good man die,” I said.
“A good man?” he answered. “If he were good, he would not be here. There is no room for good down here. Just a little good would turn the whole place upside down.”
“What do you mean by that?” I said.
“Hm? What?” Proteus looked nervous now, fidgeting and coughing as though he had let slip some secret and was trying to back out of the embarrassment.
Now I was interested. “What do you mean, turn the place upside down? How is that?”
“Oh, nothing, really. It is just a turn of speech. Idle musings. The ramblings of a senile old fool.” Proteus wrinkled his nose and laughed. “What I meant was that this just is not the sort of place for a good man, which is a good thing, when you think of it. Quite crowded enough down here already, I should say. Ahem.”
Diomedes walked over to where my rope lay, eyeing Proteus, and started to coil it around his arm.
“That’s mine,” I said from where I lay.
Diomedes looked at me but did not let go of the rope.
“Give it to me,” I said.
Proteus eased down from his rock. “Come now, gentlemen. We have not the luxury of bickering. And there is a little spring of water in the side of the cliff here, if you should need to drink.”
I hadn’t realized how thirsty I was until he mentioned it. Diomedes and I made a dash for the spring, forgetting the rope altogether.
When we had finished, Proteus handed me the coil and spoke. “Let us have a look at your map.”
“No need,” I answered. “Chiron left this part blank. It’s a valley like the other nine.”
“Just the same, I should like to have a look.”
“No,” I said.
He smiled. “Suit yourself. Which way, then?”
“The road should begin again on the other side. If we—”
“Someone is here,” said Proteus. His eyes flashed yellow, and he glared into the darkness behind me. I drew my sword and turned to look.
“What is it?”
“Several of them,” he said, stepping toward the darkness. “I should have noticed them, but they are moving so slowly . . .” He cocked his head to the left, glared with one eye into the darkness. He looked so much like a bird, I almost laughed.
“Six,” he said, “dressed like priests.”
“We need to move on,” said Diomedes.
“I do not think they are a threat,” answered Proteus. He gave an odd little shrug—sort of half nod, half duck—then rocked left and right on his heels, keeping his shoulders and head absolutely level. I found it unsettling.
“How do you know they aren’t dangerous?” I answered. I could just make out the vague silhouette of several robed figures in the distance. To me, they looked threatening indeed, and as they drew closer, they looked more so, swathed head to toe in thick folds of black wool. Moreover, they bore themselves like priests, moving with all the belabored precision of a solemn procession, one foot dragging after the other in slow, stern steps. Their deep hoods drowned their faces in shadow.
Proteus nodded to himself. “I think it is best we decline the opportunity of their fellowship.”
Diomedes was already on the move, so Proteus and I followed.
We set a pretty brisk pace at first, but the robed figures walked so slowly, we found we could stay well ahead of them without having to exert ourselves in the least. Others materialized from time to time, but they too moved with such aching sluggishness, we had only to walk around them. Of course, once we made it to the other side of the valley, matters took a difficult turn, for the climb back up to the road was steep and perilous.
“Proteus, fly this rope up to the top and let it down to us,” I said.
Proteus shook his head. “I cannot.”
“What do you mean, you can’t? Just change into a bird and fly up there.”
“I would not be big enough to carry all that rope.”
“So change into a really big bird.”
Proteus shook his head slowly. “For that, I would need more water.”
“Water?”
“If I want to be something bigger than I am, I need water. A puddle, perhaps—even a thick fog will do. But I must be wet.”
“You’ve been changing back and forth since you joined us,” said Diomedes.
“Only when there was water nearby.”
“Can’t you use something else? Dirt, maybe? Air?”
“It must be water.”
“Well . . . how much do you need?” I asked.
“Enough to reach the size I desire. Too much, and I turn into a great, soupy muck; too little, and I crumble to dust. It is rather hard to recover from either.”
“But I thought you were a magician. Why do you need water at all?”
Proteus groaned and rolled his eyes. “It is not magic. Or not the way you think of magic at least. I cannot just become anything whenever I like. An ox is about as large as I go. And I cannot be much smaller than a rabbit. Any smaller than that, I would have to lose some limbs, and once I lose a piece of me, it is gone forever.”
“Hence your finger,” I said.
He nodded.
“But that doesn’t explain the smell.”
Proteus looked at me blankly. “Smell?”
“You know. That . . . aroma you give off when you shift.”
Proteus shook his head and smiled.
“That fishy, saltwater smell—like seaweed.”
He shook his head again. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
Diomedes threw his hands in the air. “For the love of the gods, who cares? If he can’t do it, he can’t do it. Can we please just move on?”
Proteus muttered something under his breath.
“Well, if you can’t shift into something useful,” I sighed, “then I guess we’ll have to do this the hard way. Be careful, though, old man. It would be a terrible shame if you had an accident. Especially out here where there isn’t any water.” Proteus nodded and thanked me. I put my hand on his shoulder and squeezed hard. “Don’t worry, though. I’ll be right behind if you slip.”
The smile dropped from his face as he turned toward the ascent.
The climb was dangerous, for the rocks were slick and loose. Several times, we came close to slipping all the way back to the bottom in a torrent of stone, where the hooded strangers now waited—patiently—with folded arms. In the end, however, we did manage to reach the top, but were so exhausted by the climb, we walked the rest of the way in silence. Not that anyone felt like talking.
At the top of the next bridge, I broke the silence. “We stop here,” I said.
“Stop for what?” protested Diomedes.
“I need to have a look around.”
Diomedes took me by the arm. “No you don’t.”
I felt a blush of anger. “What’s wrong with you?” I said, shaking my arm loose. “For as long as I can remember, you’ve been following my lead. Now suddenly I can’t wipe my nose without your consent.”
“Maybe I’m getting smarter,” he answered, “or maybe it’s just that every time you get an idea, our situation gets worse.”
“It won’t get worse this time,” I said. “I have a plan.”
Diomedes grit his teeth. That muscle in his jaw was starting to tighten again. “For once, let your curiosity rest, would you?”
“It’s not curiosity, this time,” I said, adopting a more conciliatory tone. “I’m looking for my grandfather.”
“Grandfather!” said Diomedes. He didn’t so much say the word as spit it.
“He was a great thief,” I answered. “A thief would be a useful addition to our team.”
“But your grandfather!” said Diomedes.
“Yes. Autolycos.” I could sense his anger building, and the more I saw of his anger, the more I felt determined to resist it.
“The same grandfather that used to beat you when he came to visit?”
“The same.”
Diomedes shook his head. “We’re not stopping.”
“Sure we are,” I said, not looking at him. “Beatings or no, he’s family.”
Diomedes blew out a long, slow breath. “Just this once, I want you to think about what you’re doing, Odysseus. The risk you’re taking. We don’t know what’s in that valley, and every time you meddle, something terrible happens.”
Proteus nodded. “We do need to keep moving, Odysseus. Risks aside, there is no telling how long it will take for those devils to catch up with us.”
“It’s not up for debate,” I said, uncoiling my rope. “He’s family, and I’m going down there to look for him.”
Diomedes swallowed. “Odysseus,” he said, his voice low and furious out of his rigid face, “I need you to think carefully about this. Really carefully. Are you willing to risk your life . . . my life . . . are you willing to risk my life for a man who beat you when you were a child?”
“Everyone beat me when I was a child,” I said, “but if you want to put it that way, then yes.”
Diomedes opened his mouth to speak but turned without saying another word and picked up his gear.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
He didn’t answer.
“You’re going on without me?”
Again, no answer.
“Fine. You’ll never make it. You’re not smart enough.”
Diomedes stopped. He did not turn to face me. His voice was a thin whisper. “This may be hard for you to understand, Odysseus, but you’re not the only soul in the Underworld who wants to see the stars.” Then he trudged off into the darkness.
“Come along, now,” Proteus said to me. “We need you, and you need us.”
“Need the two of you?” I said. “A traitor and a coward?”
Proteus cracked his knuckles and smiled. “I quite understand how you feel.”
“You don’t understand the first thing about me, you broken old gimp.”
Proteus winced. “But I do, Odysseus. You and I are cut from the same cloth—I, a shapeshifter, you, the Man of Many Faces. Both of us estranged from our families. Both of us mad for power and immortality.”
I laughed and spat at his feet. “To the crows with you. You have no interest in my well-being. You just want to have two men to give Hades.”
Proteus smiled. “You see? We think alike.”
“Say another word—anything at all—and I will kill you.”
He smiled humorlessly. “Good luck with that.” Then he turned and followed Diomedes.
I was left alone.