‘No,’ she said sharply. She had so little of the Danae from Naxos left, she did not want to pollute her true name with another false identity. Besides, Heracles now knew her by that name. She had no idea where the hero had gone, who he might have spoken to …
A hand brushed her arm. ‘You all right?’ Atalanta had moved to her side, dark eyes searching Danae’s face. The warrior’s lids were heavy, her breath laced with yesterday’s wine.
‘I’m fine,’ Danae replied, with more of a barb than she intended.
Atalanta folded her arms, raising an eyebrow. ‘Doris.’
Danae glared at her. ‘No.’
‘Dione?’ offered Odysseus. ‘A strong seer’s name.’
She considered it. ‘Dione it is.’
As the ship left Myconos harbour, its sail spread wide like the wings of a swan, she glanced behind her at the Ithacan soldiers sitting idle on the rowing benches. They were doing an admirable job of pretending they hadn’t been watching her.
‘You’re sure you trust these men?’ she asked Odysseus.
‘With my life. Like me they’ve been taught the ways of the Children of Prometheus from their parents and their parents’ parents by their forebears before that.’
‘We are all here to help you,’ added Hylas.
Danae wondered how he’d gone from being a wounded Argonaut rescued by Odysseus from the Doliones shore to a trusted member of the King of Ithaca’s inner circle. Hylas was brave and loyal, but Danae sensed these were not the qualities that had convinced Odysseus to keep him close.
She walked to the ship’s rail and looked out over the turquoise ocean, the sea darkening as they entered the open waters of the Aegean. For a while the wind drove them onwards, until the sea’s breath lulled and the men were forced to row.
There were footsteps on the deck behind her, then Odysseus appeared at Danae’s side.
‘Tell me, in Delphi, were you given a shard of the omphalos stone?’
Danae’s insides twisted. ‘Yes … I was given it by Manto, a member of the Children and one of the bravest, fiercest and most brilliant people I’ve ever met.’ She swallowed. ‘But it is lost now.’
Odysseus’ hands tightened on the ship’s rail. ‘Lost? If that shard falls into the hands of the Olympians –’
‘Hades took it from me in the Underworld and he is now dead. He concealed my presence from the other gods and wished to use me as a weapon to overthrow his brother, Zeus. I doubt he would have told Olympus that he had the stone.’
Odysseus considered her. After a pause he asked, ‘Tell me, how did he die?’
Danae drew a lungful of fresh, salty air. ‘The ferryman, Charon, set free the dragon, Typhon, who was imprisoned in the Underworld. It burned Hades’ flesh from his bones.’
‘I’d heard tales,’ breathed Odysseus, ‘but it is true, the dragon exists. One would hope the creature is now bent on revenge …’ For a moment he seemed lost to his thoughts, then the sharpness returned to his gaze, and he turned, calling Hylas, Telamon and Atalanta to him, guiding them close to Danae. ‘I must ask that you tell no one beyond this deck the truth of the Underworld.’
Danae glanced at the men on the rowing benches. ‘Your men do not know?’
Odysseus shook his head. ‘I believe we are the only mortals who know the reality of what lies beneath. It’s a kindness to keep that particular piece of knowledge from the men. Especially given what they must face. Wouldn’t you agree?’
Danae looked into those amber-flecked eyes. A kindness? Or a calculation that they would not fight if they knew the truth of what waited for them when their bones returned to the earth. But whatever his reason, Odysseus had a point. She must emerge victorious against the false gods, and for that, she needed an army.
‘Fine.’ As she spoke, weariness stole over her. She took hold of the side of the ship once more and closed her eyes, focusing on the motion of the boat swaying beneath her feet. Far in the deepest reaches of her mind echoed a melody, a song she could not quite place.
‘When we reach Troy, I will introduce you as my seer,’ said Odysseus. ‘There are several royal generals in command of their own armies, but all answer to Agamemnon, the King of Men. It is the wife of his brother, Menelaus, who was kidnapped, or ran away – depending on who you ask – with Prince Paris of Troy. We will have to report to Agamemnon once we arrive.’
Danae opened her eyes and gazed down into the wine-dark water. What she would give to dive into those waves, be rocked by the sea and serenaded by the sweet voices still singing in her mind.
‘As soon as we reach Troy you must be Dione the Seer. It is imperative no one but the Children of Prometheus knows your true identity,’ continued Odysseus. Then he grew silent, frowning as though listening to something.
Hylas and Telamon had drifted to lean over the starboard rail. The singing had grown louder. Danae thought it was inher mind, but now the melody echoed around the ship as though rising from the sea itself.
There was a splash.
