I check and double-check my tunic. It’s terribly water-stained and wrinkled, but it’s still the most presentable thing I have to wear. I am a god now. I ought to at least have a wardrobe. I’ll fix that as soon as I can.
But not today.
I’m still shivering with nerves and the aftershock of last night as I make my way down to the dock for the last time. I want to leave from there in case Okeanos still comes back on his own. I watch for him anxiously, and I’m about to make a bowl shape with my hand when the air on the dock seems to ripple and then Markanos is there, chest heaving, arms shaking. There is blood on his sword.
He takes in the boat and supplies and me in one single glance.
“You’re going to Okeanos,” he says shortly.
“Of course. We’ve freed him.”
We’re both assuming so. Assuming that was the purpose of Treseano’s second monster. I hope we were right.
He nods curtly, not looking at me. I give him a moment, but this is no time for standing around.
“If you wish to wait here for our return, you’re welcome to stay,” I say, trying to hint that I will go one way or the other.
“Wait,” he says, taking a half stride forward and finally looking up at me. “I’ve been thinking all night. He’s doing five impossible tasks. Like Plector. Like Kilinippa.”
“Yes,” I agree, but I’m struggling to keep the impatience out of my voice. Why is he here? Why will he not let me get on with it?
“You could raise the dead with five tasks.”
“So everyone keeps saying,” I agree dryly, and then wait again. Eventually I sigh and I am the one who speaks. “If you are here to remind me that I owe our success to you, then consider it noted. We owe you a debt and I will make certain it is repaid in full.”
“No, of course not,” Markanos says, and he sounds sincere. “But you’re going to him to tell him you’ve completed one of his tasks?”
“If we’re right, and it freed him, he should be back here by now,” I say. The back of my neck itches. I feel like there’s something I just am not seeing. “And his wound should be healed on top of that. I’m… I worry for his safety.”
“You worry for the safety of the man you murdered?” He smirks at me.
“If something has happened to him, well then, hisimpossible tasks won’t be credited to our collective score and I’ll be back down to two,” I say defensively, but his gaze is hard as it bores into me. I hope he cannot see the truth. I hope he cannot see that I am starting to feel attached to the other God of the Sea.
“If you care about him at all, Wife of Okeanos, then you’ll take a different path.” Markanos is stern, as if he thinks I need a lecture and he’s the one to give it. “You may have freed him and healed him, but he’s still dead.”
My cheeks are on fire. I will never live down my poor judgment in killing the man. “Your point?”
“I heard you give your word to him that you’d help him with his Lighthouse,” he says. “I want you to break that promise. As long as he’s no longer God of the Sea, just a dead man hanging on by a thread of life to you, he’s vulnerable and so are you. We need strong allies in this god war, and the pair of you are a liability. So. Raise the dead. Bring Okeanos back to life. Let him rule and reign over the sea beside you and let him worry about his Lighthouse when this war is over. He’d never ask it of you. But I will.”
My head is whirling with the idea. He’s right. His friend is not just free and healed, but he could live again if I agree to this.
“I’m sure there’s something you want. You did not marry him for love or the desire to possess.” His face screws up like he’s bitten a lemon, and when he speaks, it is with effort. “If you free my friend from his death, I will do everything in my power to ensure you get whatever it is you really want. I cansee by the light in your eyes there issomething. I assure you that never have I met a task too great for me or an enemy too powerful. Simply name your price and I will meet it.”
“I’ll not be bought. My decision is my own.” I shake my head.
“Fair enough,” he says lightly. “Then do it without provocation. Do it because you are brave and honorable, the wife of the great Okeanos.”
And it’s not that I don’t feel the pull. Of course I do, but I also know what Okeanos would say—that he can’t replicate the tasks and if I use them on bringing him back, then I will destroy his life’s work. Is it not his right to choose between himself and the work he cared about?
“How could I even do that? I don’t know how to assign them. I was counting on Oke to direct me.” It’s an easy out, an excuse, and I know it.
“Do what they do in the legends. Both Kilinippa and Plector prayed to the heavens, ‘Accept these five gifts, a work for each finger of my hand, and give to me this boon I ask of thee.’ I know because Okeanos made me read that fool book.”
I bite at my lip, suddenly fearful of the upcoming meeting.
“You don’t really believe there is some great deity above even the gods,” I say.
“Don’t I?” Markanos’s smile is twisting and ironic. “Did you not see the glory descend and our power renewed? If that wasn’t a god greater than gods, then what was it?”
