BURIED TO HIS CHEST in ice, Hades was twice the height of Mount Neriton, and just as broad, covered entirely in greasy fur. Six featherless wings, broader than any woven sail, stretched from his back, and these swept forward in great, slow heaves, churning the clouds before them in frigid blasts. The ice beneath my feet shivered again. The mist itself fled before him and stood trembling in a wall around us. Every now and then a shy finger of cloud would stretch out to touch him, then recoil.
Above each pair of wings, a face rose from his neck—one black as onyx, one bloodred, one yellow like the foam on a rancid slough. All three faces met together below an enormous crown adorned with silver spikes. Each spike glinted in the dark like an eye. The great beast looked down at Proteus, and I saw in each toothy scowl a mangled cadaver—one per mouth—blood, foam, and feet issuing from between his jaws. Upon seeing us, he spat one corpse onto the ice and spoke.
“Who is this who rushes in where even the angeloi loathe to tread?” he roared. His voice was like a thousand trumpets screaming war.
Proteus took a few faltering steps and bowed. “Lord of the Underworld, I have come to you through many trials. I, Proteus, Lord of the Eastern Shore. I have come to you with gifts and throw myself on your great mercy.”
There was another rumble overhead, and the scowls melted into smiles. “Gifts? Indeed. Well, then, come to me, my child.” He spread wide his arms and beamed down at him, the corners of his mouth twitching, as though the effort of smiling was a heavy strain on the muscles of his face. His eyes were on Proteus, but I couldn’t help feeling that he was actually watching me. Proteus took several more steps, bowing repeatedly. “Proteus, then, is it?” rumbled the giant. Now his voice was soft and oily. “The shapeshifter of Egypt. Mmm. Yes. I have been waiting for you. Do some magic for us, won’t you? Change into something. A bat, perhaps. Or a dragon.”
Proteus bowed lower and lower until he was almost on all fours. “With all due honor and respect, my Lord, I cannot.”
For an instant, the look of benevolence vanished from the giant’s face, and all three mouths snapped into bitter scowls. But the look passed so quickly, it might have been a twitch or a wink. He oozed kindness. “Oh, come, come. Why not? Do a little shift for us. Just a small one. A human, perhaps. Do Helen. How hard could that be? You’ve done it before.”
“Terribly sorry, my Lord,” whimpered Proteus (he actually was on all fours now), “but I need water, sir. Without it, my Lord, I am incapable of shifting. Of course, I could walk over there, my Lord, where the mist is . . .”
“Or I could spit on you,” he rumbled. It was hard to tell whether this was a threat or a jest.
“That you could, my Lord,” said Proteus, twitching with deference, “and an honor it would be, my Lord, to be spat upon by one so magnificent.”
Hades roared with laughter and slapped the ice with the flat of his hand. The eyes of one face flashed toward me and away again. “Why, that it would! That it would! And yet even one so magnificent as I hesitates to spit on his subjects.”
Proteus gave a weak laugh and nodded. Again, I watched the smile fade from Hades’ face. But as before, the expression slipped instantly beneath a mask of grinning benevolence. “You mentioned gifts?”
“Gifts, sir? Ah yes, of course, my Lord.” Proteus reached into his cloak and rooted around. He grimaced and reached further in, groping deeper and deeper until he was buried up to the shoulder. He looked as though he might actually disappear into his own pocket. He coughed nervously and smiled at the giant, whose unctuous grin seemed capable at any moment of erupting into a murderous rage. But at last, Proteus found what he was searching for. Turning his back to me, he presented his gift to the giant with both hands. There was a look of bemused delight from Hades as he lowered one open claw to receive the offering.
From where I stood, it was difficult to tell what lay in that enormous palm, but I could make out a pale glimmer of gold. “Pretty,” he said, shaking his open fist so that the object sparkled. Then he took it between two jagged nails and held it before his eye, turning it like a gem. I gasped and dropped my sword to the ice. Proteus had given him Penelope’s cup. Hades glanced at me, and a slow smile crept across his face. “Yes. Yes, this pleases me greatly.” He smiled more broadly, then opened his mouth and tossed it in. I heard the metal crush between his teeth and watched the muscles of his throat work it down. “Worthless, but pretty.” Then he let out a long, wet belch. “Is that all?”
“Why, um, no, my Lord. Of course not. Not all. No. I brought you a soul, my Lord. A great and famous one, my Lord. He stands behind me.” He gestured toward me without looking. “Odysseus, my Lord. The many-faced King of Ithaca.”
For the first time, the giant looked straight at me, and I felt the weight of his gaze like a burning stone on my shoulders. “Really, now?” he said. “Many faced! And you brought him?”
Proteus coughed, shuffled his feet, and smoothed his blue hair with a trembling hand. “I had two souls for you, my Lord, but lost one of them along the way.”
“How disappointing,” said Hades. Proteus withdrew a little further into his cloak. The giant shifted his gaze between Proteus and me. “But it is a dangerous thing to pass among the nine rings. To be frank, I am surprised you made it here at all. You have done well, good and faithful servant. Come, now. Enter into your father’s joy.”
Proteus looked up gratefully and bowed again but seemed unsure what to do next.
Hades laughed. “Come to me, my son. Sit at my right hand.” He patted the ice next to him.
Proteus walked over to the place indicated and stood awkwardly examining his feet while Hades sneered at me. “You see how I reward my servants?” he declared.
“I hardly see the reward in moving someone from one patch of ice to another,” I muttered.
I watched the muscles of the giant’s face contract briefly, then relax into a slick smile. I could hardly believe he had heard me, but he had. “The reward,” he said, “is in the honor I have bestowed, is it not, Proteus?”
Proteus looked anything but honored. Nonetheless, he bowed, nodded, smiled weakly, and stammered something about the great service done him, and so on and so forth.
“Honor!” the giant boomed. “Fame! Admiration . . .” He stopped and wrinkled all three noses. “What is that smell? Is that you?”
Proteus smiled timidly.
“No matter. My servant, Proteus—my loyal servant—will be known throughout the Underworld for his service to me. He shall be feared, respected, and envied. Timē and kleos! He shall be honored for ages unending.”
I said nothing. I’d learned enough about honor from Achilles. I wasn’t going down that path again.
“Honor not enough for you, then, Odysseus? Very well. Ask me anything. Anything up to half my kingdom. I could use a man of your talents. I am generous to my subjects, and I shall be more generous still. All you must do is worship me. Speak, then. Ask, and you shall receive.”
“I want out,” I said.
There was a burst of laughter, more like thunder than mirth. “Your request is most unflattering,” he said. “After all I have offered you, and you want only to leave?”
“I shall return.”
“They all say that.”
“I made a vow to my wife that I would come back to her.”
“A vow to your wife?” He laughed harder. “When have you ever honored that?”
I felt a fist clench in my chest. “I will leave with your permission or without it,” I said, and I picked up my sword.
His smile faded a little, but his voice retained its syrupy warmth. “Do not be a fool, Odysseus. I have so much to offer you. Surely you would rather rule in Hades than be a slave to the Tyrant of Heaven.”
I shook my head. “I have a job to do.”
The giant sighed. “Very well. Since you are so determined to leave, you are welcome to try.”
I nodded. “You are very gracious.” I looked around at the ice and the fog, took a step or two to the left, stopped, then took a step to the right, and stopped. I looked up at the giant.
“Why, scourge, blame, and blight me with cankers!” For the first time, Hades looked genuinely surprised—all three faces. “Curse me if you have even the first clue how to get out of here.” He looked down at Proteus and grinned. “He doesn’t know, does he?”
Proteus coughed but said nothing.
“What will you do now, Odysseus? This is a genuine riddle. A fitting challenge for the Man of Twists and Turns: How to leave when you know not the way.”