I was about to ask Atalanta what exactly Jason had done to earn her dislike, when a call came from the lookout. “Six armed men!” Tiphys cried from his perch on the mast.
The rest of us looked up, puzzled. We were drifting near the shore, a necessity in this place where the cruel deep-sea currents threatened to pull us in unknown directions. An isthmus extended out into the water, and we hugged its curves.
“Why should we care about an armed force of only six?” Peleus shouted back.
“No, you don’t understand,” Tiphys said. “Six-armedmen!Giants, with six arms!”
A thunder of feet, and all of us hung off the landward side of the ship.
A man was standing on the shore, and another a little behind him, remarkable mainly for their lack of attire; a loincloth around each man’s hips was all that separated him from nakedness. I averted my gaze as a flush sprang to my cheeks.
Atalanta was next to me, her attention focused sharply on the men. “But that’s not right,” she whispered. “He’s too far away.”
I looked again and saw that I’d had the perspective all wrong. The man was actually standing on the cliff, as was his friend, an illusion that made them seem like men of ordinary size. In truth, both must have been twice the size of any man aboard theArgo. Giants indeed.
As we watched, the man raised his arms... and kept raising them, sprouting more as he went, two additional arms unfurling from each side. Shaking all six arms, he shouted in an unintelligible language. His friend soon joined in, waving a spear in his uppermost right hand.
We of theArgoglanced around at one another, amazed. The six-armed men were too far away to do any damage, and our ship sailed safely past.
What wonders this world contained.
We made camp that evening on an island mercifully free from all human habitation, six-armed or otherwise. It was a relief to spread out along the beach after so long on the cramped quarters of the ship. I stretched out my legs and dug my toes into the cool sand.
The sun was setting, turning the sky gold and fire red. Castorand Polydeuces splashed in the water, throwing drops of sea spray that turned the dying light into rainbows, while Peleus and Tiphys engaged in a bout of arm wrestling. Heracles, his great bulk lying horizontal, pillowed his head in the lap of his youthful companion, Hylas. Clouds drifted across the sky, and seabirds skimmed the water.
When dusk fell, fires were kindled and food passed around, such as it was: gruel and salted meat, which made me long for the delicacies of home. I tried to catch Jason’s eye, but he was engaged in an animated conversation with Peleus and did not notice me.
Orpheus began to play a wordless tune on his lyre. The melody rose up like sparks from the fire, summoning the distant stars to join us. The stars began to dance to the music, drifting down from their high abodes. Pinpricks of light, no larger than fireflies, moved over our heads in procession as Orpheus played. The stars became a crown over the head of Calais, and I remembered what I’d seen my first night on theArgo: a glimpse of Calais and Orpheus, the lovers.
Abruptly, the music stopped. When I looked up, the stars were restored to their rightful positions in the sky. I rubbed my eyes and, around me, saw the other Argonauts doing the same.
A powerful illusion. Once, I had been able to accomplish similar marvels with my witchcraft. Now I was useless.
The events of the past few days struck me with the force of a tidal wave. I was far from home and without my magic. Suddenly the laughing and joking of these men—these strangers—was intolerable. Leaving the light of the fires, I walked to the darkness at the edge of camp to gather my thoughts in peace.
A shape moved in the shadows, and I cried out in alarm.
“Why are you making so much noise?” the familiar voice of Atalanta asked. Her tall, wiry form emerged from the night.
“Because you startled me,” I snapped. “What are you doing out here, creeping around?”
“Praying to Artemis Far-Shooter.”
Every hair on my body lifted, and a shiver ran over my skin. I felt like I had been struck by an arrow myself, because in Greek the name she said was ArtemisHekate.
Oh, I knew well enough that it meant “far-shooter” or “worker from afar.” And I’d heard of Artemis before, a Greek goddess. But it felt as though my mother had reached through the mists of eternity to grab me by the shoulders and say,Listen. Listen to this woman.
“There is another goddess of that name,” I said, sitting heavily on a piece of driftwood. “Hekate. Have you heard of her? I was her priestess back in Colchis. And... and I am her natural daughter.” The revelation spilled from my lips like water from a spring before I had the time to debate the wisdom of sharing it.
Atalanta nodded, unperturbed, seating herself next to me on the driftwood log. “I knew a woman whose mother was also a priestess of Hekate. I think Hekate is a little like my Artemis, a goddess of the moon and dark places.”
“You don’t seem surprised to hear that I’m a descendant of a goddess,” I remarked. Jason had been far more taken aback by this revelation.
“You’re not the first divine descendant I’ve met, and you won’t be the last,” Atalanta replied. “That boat is full of them. Just the other night I watched a demigod get too drunk and throw up all over himself. Besides, why wouldn’t I believe you had a goddess for a mother when I myself was raised by bears?”
“This is the second time you have mentioned being raised by bears. Someday you must tell me the full story.”
“Someday,” Atalanta agreed, and immediately changed the subject. “Now I understand why you are so attached to yourwitchcraft, daughter of Hekate. You said before we left Lemnos that you understood why you had lost your magic and what you must do to get it back.” She slapped her thighs and leaned forward. “So, what is the reason, and what the remedy?”
