Shimmering Splendor Read online

  When she stepped out onto the road again, she found it was smoother, the ruts filled. The city must be near, she thought. Confirmation of that thought came in what Psyche judged was less than a candlemark when she came in sight of a walled enclosure. She stopped abruptly, holding her breath with fear that a challenge would come from a watcher on the wall. But no one called out, and she could see no sign of guards. Cautiously she drew closer. The absence of guards was odd, but from the curve of the wall she could see, and from which she could estimate the amount of ground the walls must enclose, Psyche judged that they surrounded a great manor house.

  Eventually a closed gate broke the wall. Psyche again held her breath, expecting a challenge, and then, when none came, she darted past the gate to the other side of the road. There, in the shadow of a large tree, she stopped. Beyond the gate, the road changed from smooth earth to slabs of stone. At first she had almost believed it to be a solid stone causeway, then she saw the regular cracks. When she started forward she realized the slabs were so well fitted that she could not detect the joinings with her feet.

  She walked slowly at first, peering anxiously ahead, certain that she would see the walls of the city in the moonlight, but there was only the road, curving gently and bordered by tall shadows that must be trees. After a while she walked more quickly, not noticing in the dark the narrow pathways between the regularly spaced trees that led back to hidden manors. She was looking for walls. No city she knew lacked walls. Sometimes a town near a king’s walled palace did not bother with defensive enclosure; there the inhabitants expected to be sheltered in the palace in return for fighting to protect it.

  Suddenly the road opened out into a wide rectangle. To the right and the left, branches led away from the main trunk, but Psyche barely noticed them. She was looking down the broad vista to its far end where a palace, gleaming white in the moonlight, faced her across the open space. No walls. Olympus had no walls! Psyche shivered. Such arrogance. And then she shivered again. Olympus had no walls because the Olympians had no fear of being attacked. She remembered now that Teras had never mentioned gates or walls when he spoke of the city.

  Psyche stared, enraptured by the beauty and chilled by her knowledge of the horrors that had wrought that palace. Zeus’s palace—Kronos’s really. Teras had told her of the driven slaves who had built and polished that palace when he was trying to explain why the punishment for serving a master like Kronos had been just. Of course, it had not been the plight of the slaves that distressed Teras but how he had been used to apply similar enslavement to his own people.

  A rise of resentment banished the awe engendered by the magnificent building. Slaves, nothings, that was all the native people were to the Olympians. She remembered her first conclusion when she learned that Eros and Teras were the same, that Eros had been playing a cruel joke on her, but before she could throw her pack on the ground and walk out of the city again, she also remembered Aphrodite’s anguish and that she had said she would not strike Psyche dead only because Eros, desperately ill as he was, had pleaded for her. He did love her, native though she was, and she would teach him, through that love, that people were people, native and Olympian alike.

  While she struggled with her memories, Psyche’s eyes had dropped from the great palace. Now she looked from side to side, deliberately avoiding that cruel magnificence. She realized that the open space before her was the agora, the open market free to all, and to either side were the long buildings with their covered porticoes that housed the permanent shops. A flicker of warmth surged up in Psyche as she remembered that her own shop would be in one of those buildings. And thought of the shop, which sold lotions and dyes and unguents to make the beautiful more beautiful, reminded her of her tangled hair and odorous clothes.

  Panic surged up. She would be seen as an intruder as soon as the sun rose. No Olympian would have a servant who was so dirty. She swallowed. Where there was an agora there was a well. She did not need to be dirty. She could wash, yes, and comb her hair and wear the gown she had carried. Psyche drew a deep breath. She would look no different than any other woman on the street if she packed away her dirty clothes in her pack and wrapped the pack in her blanket as if she were carrying laundry. Perhaps her gown was too fine for a servant…but perhaps it was not. Who knew how an Olympian would dress a favorite servant.

  The well… Psyche looked out over the empty agora, but she could see no sign of a well head. It might be anywhere, she thought, shrinking internally from the idea of searching for it, the one moving figure in that whole empty space. And then she remembered the pool and the peace that surrounded it. If there were no walls, there would be no gate to pass, no guards’ questions to answer. She could walk into the city at any time; if she appeared neat and well dressed, no one would question her. And she could ask directions to Aphrodite’s house from anyone in the agora. She smiled as she turned and started back toward the pool far more briskly than she had come away from it. When she was in the agora tomorrow, she thought, striding along, she would just take a peek at her shop.

  * * *

  It was a beautiful shop, quite beautiful, with the pots of unguent arranged most elegantly on well-wrought shelves, the packets of herbs for healing potions displayed at the foot of clever drawings that showed a disordered and a cured person, and in small bins the parchment rolls with recipes for possets and poultices. The only thing she did not like were the symbols painted on the doorjamb which said “By permission of the Lady Aphrodite.” It reminded her too vividly of how dependent upon Aphrodite Teras really was.

  It was not fair, Psyche thought, as she stood at the opening of the lane that led to Aphrodite’s house, to which the shop attendant had directed her without the smallest hesitation. She had built the business in that shop with her own hands and wits—and Teras’s help. They could live, and live well, without Aphrodite. Perhaps they could not afford so grand a house as the lodge or four servants, but to be free of obligation would be well worth a simpler style of life. If she could convince Teras… Her heart sank. Not Teras, Eros. And she did not know Eros at all.

  Why was she doing this? Psyche wondered. She did not love Eros. She did not even like Eros. In fact, what she had seen of him in her father’s palace had given her a strong distaste for Eros. She almost turned away; however, her sturdy common sense pointed out that without Eros she could not have Teras and that she was dwelling on these foolish ideas anyway only because she was afraid to enter and confront Aphrodite.

  Shame and a prickle of rage drove her forward along the path to a gate in a wall. Psyche looked at the wall, which plainly was for privacy, not for defense, feeling almost offended. Then she shrugged. What was the use of a defensible wall when a great mage could fly over it or blast it to bits? While the idea had flitted through her mind, she was looking for a bellpull or a gong to strike, but she found none. Exasperated, she put her hand on the gate to rattle it and found it was not fastened shut.

  Beyond was a large courtyard, empty and silent. Psyche stopped and looked about nervously. It was wrong. At this time in the morning, servants should still be busy in the courtyard. Nonetheless, she saw all was in order, the stone flags swept clean, the dew dried from the benches. Psyche drew a deep breath and started forward again. Perhaps Aphrodite had her cleaning done by magic. From what Teras had said, Aphrodite had a unique way of purchasing spells—at worst for little cost and at best with a profit of pleasure for herself.

  She pushed the disrespectful thought out of her mind and stepped onto the portico with a strange feeling of unreality. The door did have a bellpull and Psyche tugged at it, relieved to hear chimes that sounded faintly on the other side of the door. In only a few moments, the door opened and Psyche stared with widening eyes at an empty corridor.

  “Yes, lady?”

  The shrill little voice made Psyche gasp and look down to where the sound came from. A cherub smiled brightly up at her, a dear little girl about five years old, with round, rosy cheeks and silk flowers in
her dark, curly hair. She was clothed in a dainty tunic.

  “Is that for Lady Aphrodite?” the little girl asked, reaching for the bundle Psyche carried.

  “It is too heavy for you, child, and I must give it to Lady Aphrodite myself,” Psyche said, shaking off her surprise and recalling that Teras had told her that Aphrodite was served by the children “sacrificed” to her and that the mites were well cared for and happy. “Will you tell Lady Aphrodite that Lady Psyche has completed the task set her and has brought the seeds she desired?”

  “I will see if she is awake,” the child said. “You can wait in the reception chamber.”

  She stood aside for Psyche to enter, then closed the door, waving toward an arch that opened into a large chamber furnished with groups of chairs and couches. Before Psyche could move or speak again, the little one had skipped along the corridor and disappeared through another opening. Psyche stood biting her lip, furious with herself for not asking about Teras—no, Eros. The child would not know the name Teras. Well, it was too late for that, and Eros might still be too angry to see her. Nor, on second thought, did she think it would be wise to try to circumvent Aphrodite’s commands—more than she had already done by coming to Olympus instead of waiting at the lodge.

  “Who are you?” another childish voice asked, this one less shrill.

  Psyche started and looked down again. It was a boy child this time, older, perhaps seven, also dark-haired and dark-eyed. The question was curious, not insolent, and unafraid.

  “I am the Lady Psyche,” she said, smiling despite her growing fear that Aphrodite would send her away and never tell Eros she had come, but she still dared not ask for Eros. “I have come to see the Lady Aphrodite.”

  “Did that silly Chloe forget to tell you to sit down?” the boy asked, frowning. “She is only little and does not know all the proper ways. Where did she go?”

  But before Psyche could answer, Chloe popped out into the corridor again and seeing the boy with Psyche said crossly, “It is my turn to answer the door, Daphnis. Lady Psyche is my charge. Go away.”

  “But you left her standing in the hallway, and—”

  “I did not! I told her to go into the reception room. It is your fault she is standing here because you stopped her and were talking to her.”

  “Children,” Psyche said softly, “do not quarrel. You have both done very well. Am I to go in to Lady Aphrodite now, Chloe?”

  “Not yet,” Chloe replied. “Lysis said she was awake, but not yet ready to receive a guest. She will come for you when the lady is ready. And I am to fetch cakes and wine.”

  “I will fetch the cakes and wine,” Daphnis said. “You will spill everything.”

  “No, I will not,” Chloe cried, indignantly, turning away and starting down the corridor. “Lysis said I should.”

  “Lysis is as silly as you are,” Daphnis riposted, hurrying away after the girl child. “She should know you are still too young to be serving. You are only starting to open the door.”

  Psyche, her heart lightening, watched them turn a corner and disappear down what must be a central corridor, then entered the reception room. They were adorable, so eager to perform their tasks, so happy about their duties, and without the smallest anxiety; they must be instructed with love. She was growing more hopeful that she would not be turned away without even seeing Aphrodite. No one who was so kind to children could be entirely heartless.

  * * *

  Aphrodite loved children and was not heartless, but it was neither kindness nor sympathy that prevented her from having Psyche immediately transported back to the lodge. First astonishment and then fury had swept through Aphrodite when Lysis reported that a Lady Psyche was waiting to give her a package. Her next impulse had been to be rid of Psyche as quickly as possible; however, she had realized at once that sending her back to the lodge could serve no purpose and having her killed would be a disaster. She could not hide the fact that Psyche had come. By now probably all the children knew and most of them were too young to keep secrets. Sooner or later Eros would learn, and actually he had foreseen this. Aphrodite bit her lip, recalling the conversation they had had only a week past, when he had said he could bear the separation from Psyche no longer and must go to her.

  “Do not be so silly,” she remembered saying. “You know it will do you much harm to invoke a travel spell. Asclepius will feed you poison if you undo all the good he has done you and make him start all over again.”

  “Yes, but you do not know Psyche,” Eros had said, frowning but with a hint of pride. “If she grows impatient, she is likely to do something dangerous.”

  Aphrodite had tried to look puzzled. “Well, she did seem worried about you and asked to come to care for you, but she settled down eagerly to her task. I am sure—”

  “Why do you not bring her?” he had interrupted eagerly. “If she is here, I will not be so restless—”

  “Eros!” Aphrodite remembered how exasperated she had felt because she believed he was creating the woman he desired instead of seeing what Psyche really was—but she did not say that. She knew that the more she criticized Psyche, the more virtues Eros would see in her. Instead she had said, “If Psyche were here, you know you would not be willing to sleep away three-quarters of every day. You would want to talk to her, play games with her—and that will be fine when you are no longer in pain. Worse yet, I cannot imagine you sleeping quietly at night, when you are aware of her. Behave yourself. You are acting like a two-year-old child.”

  Eros sighed. “Will you go to her and tell her I will come when I can?”

  “There is no need.” Aphrodite remembered the irritated patience she had felt. “I have told you before that I set her a silly, harmless task which can be completed only in the lodge itself and promised when it was done that I would bring her to you if you were still ill. She was quite happily employed with it and will stay that way until you are well. Now, drink this and go to sleep again so that you can sooner be with your Psyche.”

  And last night Eros had been after her again to assure Psyche she was forgiven and that he would come to her, and she had soothed him by promising she would—but it was already too late. It seemed there was more to Psyche than a simple native beauty. Aphrodite remembered that notion had crossed her mind before and she had dismissed the idea. She would not do that again; however, she had better tell Eros at once that Psyche had come.

  She dressed, drew a cloak over her head, and passed quietly through the inner courtyard to Eros’s wing of the house. She found him in his bedchamber, dressed in the tunic he had worn the previous evening and staring out a window, but clearly not seeing anything, because he started when she spoke his name.

  “Did you go to bed at all?” she added sharply.

  “No,” he replied, turning toward her but not looking up. “It is useless. I spent all night thinking over what you said. If I cannot use a translocation spell, I will walk back. She—she does not trust you, I fear, and a makework task will not hold her long. I am physically well now, and the better I am physically, the worse I feel in my heart. I cannot bear being parted from her.”

  “Are you going back as Teras or Eros?” Aphrodite asked.

  The beautiful green eyes met hers and she sighed at the pain in them. “I cannot go as Teras,” he said. “And if I go as Eros—”

  “Well, you can save yourself the trouble of worrying about it,” she snapped. “You were quite right. Psyche did not wait. She is here.”

  “Here?” He jumped to his feet.

  Aphrodite caught at his arm. “Wait and think!”

  “But if she is here—” His voice checked and the joy in his face was overcast with trouble. “But how did she come? How could she come?”

  “You see? Already you are bitten by doubt. You will be eaten alive by it if you do not find some way to content yourself. Listen to me: no person, even if she got the servants to help her, could have completed the task I set her in less than several moons. If she has completed it,
it was by magic.”

  “She is so clever,” Eros said, smiling—in Aphrodite’s opinion, fatuously. “I cannot imagine how she did it.”

  “Neither can I, but that is scarcely the point. If she has power, why did she lie to you?”

  “I do not know, but she was truly drained near to death when I brought her back from Iolkas. Only…only I do not know for what purpose her power was drained. And—and that was no mean spell she used to break Hecate’s magic. I do not know.” He drew a deep breath. “But it does not matter, my dear friend. She has destroyed me already. If she wishes to kill Teras, I will die gladly. If she wishes to torment Eros, I must endure. I want her. I need her.” He laughed, suddenly, though his eyes were full of tears. “In her presence, even my doubts are half joy, whereas when we are apart, there is nothing but black misery laced with red pain.”

  For a moment Aphrodite said nothing as she fought to swallow her rage. Before she could speak, Eros laughed again more naturally.

  “I remember before I went to Iolkas the first time, that I felt as if I were being slowly encased in ice. I was numb and nothing could touch me except sometimes a little warmth from your kindness, and I was very, very tired. I asked the Mother why I should walk and talk among the living when I was dead already and wished that I were either dead or alive. I was sure, because I had lived so long, that She would bless me with death, but She has a very strange sense of humor.”

  “Idiot!” Aphrodite said, laughing. “Everyone knows to be careful about asking gifts of the Mother. You are too likely to get exactly what you asked for, which was not what you meant at all. But I think She must love you almost as much as I do because She has blessed me with knowledge of a way to assuage those doubts of yours.”