“At least the gods have a sense of humor. You are officially an ass on the outside as well as in.” She grabbed the donkey by the cheeks and gave the brown-eyed beast a pitying look. “I warned you. The door promised challenges. The sphinx was one. This was another. The gods are full of trickery.”
He stomped his hooves.
Alena had no trouble deciphering what he was trying to express with his donkey tantrum. “Yes, I can fix you. We’re lucky in that regard. I was worried you’d drop dead.”
Orpheus dipped his head and nosed under her elbow.
“Oh no, I can’t do it now. The water you drank needs time to… uh… leave your system. Until then, well, we ought to move on.” She attempted to climb on his back, but he shied away. She spread her hands and shrugged. “It will be faster if I ride you.”
The donkey smiled at her and gave her a furry wink.
“Ugh. That is not what I meant, and you know it.”
He bobbed his fuzzy eyebrows and wiggled his back.
“Oh, you accept these circumstances now that you know you will be between my thighs?” She had to laugh. Only Orpheus would suffer transformation into a beast only to retain his lecherous attitude.
The donkey neighed. Face burning, she approached him again and, with some effort, climbed onto his back. Orpheus bent his neck and gave her one last annoyed look with his long donkey face.
“I told you not to drink it. You should have listened to me. I have a stone in my bag that tests for poisons and curses. I tried to use it, but you wouldn’t back away from the water. I was afraid you were enthralled by… water sprites or something even more dangerous.” She shrugged. “I couldn’t get close enough to help you without risking my own mind. Truly, you should thank me. Had I attempted to pull you away, we might have both fallen under the spell of the water, and then where would we be?”
Orpheus gave a snort.
“We have to keep moving.”
He folded his ears back, clearly disgruntled, but nevertheless saw the wisdom in her words and started down the path again. For a long time, their surroundings were quite pleasant. Rolling hills, gold and silver flowers, silver sky. At first Alena expected the sphinx or another magical creature to attack around every bend, but eventually she allowed herself to relax and enjoy the journey. Only when their progress became monotonous did she speak again.
“There’s another reason I was suspicious about the water. I mean besides the books I’ve read about the gods.”
Orpheus didn’t stop walking, but his ears rotated back toward her.
“I’m a descendant of Circe.”
Orpheus paused on his donkey legs and craned his neck. She saw her reflection in one large brown eye.
“Keep walking or I will not continue this story.”
He started forward again.
“My father told me when I was six years old. I’d accidentally turned an earthworm into a mouse. Transformation was sort of Circe’s claim to fame, and I was born with the skill as well as a talent for working with plants and herbs. My father told me that many generations before I was born, Circe’s son, Telegonus, had a certain indiscretion with a mountain nymph, which resulted in my ancestor’s birth. Honestly, it was so long ago. I wasn’t sure I should believe it, but it accounts for my abilities.”
He bobbed his head and chuffed.
“You know, I think I’m going to miss this quiet and introspective side of you. When I change you back, maybe I’ll forget to recover your voice.”
This time when Orpheus stopped, he did not look back at her. His long ears twitched.
“I was joking, Orpheus. You don’t have to stop.”
He didn’t move but raised his donkey head and pointed with his fuzzy chin. A massive wall rose in the distance, thick fog swirling at its base.
“That looks ominous.” She slid off his back and gave in to the irresistible urge to scratch him behind the ears. He didn’t seem to mind. “I think it’s time I turned you back, don’t you?” she said, cradling his nose. “Whatever is behind that wall might view an ass as their next meal. At least as a man you might stand half a chance of surviving.”
She opened her satchel and began mixing herbs in her mortar, mashing them together with her pestle. Once they’d formed a thick paste, she held the mixture up to his muzzle. “Eat this.”
He sniffed the concoction, sneezed, and turned his head away.
“It’s not ambrosia, but certainly you can choke it down. I can’t turn you back without it.” She thrust it under his nose again.
