THERE’S NOTHING quite like backing down a sheer cliff face into the roiling fogs of lowest Hell. I could hardly breathe for fear of slipping into that uncertain void, and when I reached the end of the rope, there was no sign I was anywhere near the bottom. I loosed the sword from my belt and dropped it into the mist. I was relieved to hear it clatter to the ground close by. Then, of course, I regretted not dropping something duller. But by then, it was too late. I shouted to Proteus that I was going to jump the rest of the way, and taking silence for consent, let go of the rope.
It wasn’t much of a drop, but the ground was so hard, I thought my knees would burst. Then when I tried to stand up, I slipped and fell again. Proteus heard my cursing and asked if I was all right. I told him I was. Shortly after, a large white pelican landed beside me, skidded several feet, and tumbled head over webbed feet into a rock. I looked on as it struggled to right itself and fell over again. “Proteus?” I said, rising unsteadily. The ground was uncommonly slippery.
The beak softened into a pair of lips, and the pelican spoke. “I did not enjoy that.”
I shuddered and poked him with the toe of my sandal. “Choose a shape, would you? Those bird lips give me the creeps.”
“I told you it is not so easy,” he groaned, “and it is even more difficult when all I have to work with is mist.” I could see he was telling the truth. His little yellow eyes winced at every word. He rolled over, and with a sort of grunting gasp, the feathers along his left side disappeared. Then he rolled over and repeated the process. As I watched the pale, helpless little half man roll back and forth, grunting and gasping, I couldn’t help wondering if it might not be prudent to kill him while I had the chance. After all, he had told me that he would kill me when the time came. And hadn’t he driven that first wedge of mistrust between Diomedes and me? He deserved worse than death, if truth be told.
I drew the last arrow from my quiver and nocked it. As he rolled onto his back, I placed my foot on his neck and aimed at his face. “You aren’t actually immortal, are you?”
His eyes grew wide, and he shook his head. “No.”
“You can change your shape, but you can’t change your guts.”
Proteus nodded slowly.
“Then your time has come,” I said.
He closed his eyes. “Pray for me.”
I released the arrow.
Proteus deserved to die. He had betrayed me repeatedly. He was a liar and a coward. And frankly, he was more beast than man anyway.
But I couldn’t kill him.
Just as I released the arrow, I jerked the bow to the side and sent the shot skipping off across the ice. The shaft splintered, and the head bent sideways—my last arrow wasted.
Proteus blinked at me for several seconds. “That was imprudent.”
I turned away.
At length, he appeared beside me. “I suppose I now owe you some sort of debt.”
I shook my head. “You owe me nothing.”
“You have acted with honor.”
“I acted out of weakness.”
Proteus nodded. “I still plan to betray you,” he said.
“I know.” I looked over at him. The back of his head was still covered with feathers. “You . . . uh . . . missed a few,” I said. For some reason, this oversight struck me as vaguely obscene.
“Eh?” He put his hand to the back of his head. “Oh.” Then, with a sort of hiccup, the feathers sucked back into his skull, and hair grew in their place. He muttered a word of thanks. “You know,” he said, still looking away into the mist, “I cannot help asking—
But that’s when the enormous feet appeared.