Page 65 of The Hymn to Dionysus

We were at the table in the shade of the shutters, the bread between us, and some of his amazing grapes, and olives, and cheese. The cheese was from the farmer across the way from us, because she was grateful Dionysus didn’t mind about letting her goats into his garden—they were yielding the best milk they ever had, she said, so he deserved the benefit. I had to stare at it before I touched anything. Everything on the table between us now was so much better than what was at the garrison. Even though it was only what I would have expected in an ordinary year, it seemed like a feast. I dipped a piece of bread slowly into the olive oil, watching the gold sheen cover the crust. When I bit into it, I could taste that it had grown near a lemon tree.

Dionysus had tied his hair up to work, and taken off the top half of his tunic, sleeves tied round his waist and tucked into his belt. He was sitting flat against the wall now, for the cold in the stone, not moving and breathing slowly while he waited to cool down. He had a deep patience for being uncomfortable I’d never managed to learn, even on the long day watches outside the walls of Troy.

“Because either it wasn’t you, or it was but it’s not your fault.”

“If it’s your fist, it’s your fault,” I said. “If I did kill them then I’m going to a sanctuary.”

“Let’s see what happens tonight before you decide,” he said.

I dragged my wrist over my eyes and didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what gods the triplets had, or what they needed. They had little figurines in their room, but I didn’t know if those were holy icons or just dolls they had saved from home. They were still little boys.

Maybe about the age Dionysus had been, when I stole him off that shore.

Dionysus poured a handful of water into his palm and dragged it down his arms, and pressed back against the wall again. I stared at the floor. He was a witch. Normally he wore a veil. It wasn’t right for me to see him like this, only half dressed; there might not have been a law, but that was only because nobody had thought it needed writing down. And it wasn’t right to notice how the light was turning him gold down one side, or how fragile-strong his collarbones looked, or how it would be if I could put my head on his shoulder.

If I had killed the triplets, then I shouldn’t be touching anyone ever again.

“You were a sailor, right?” he asked.

My throat locked. He was about to say, It’s nice how you care what you do to children now, because you didn’t ten years ago. “Yes.” I waited for the fire.

“So,” he said, with a little witching sparkle, “I was in Africa, beyond the desert, where there’s a great kingdom which sometimes trades with Memphis, and I was going south, because there are more kingdoms that way and I wanted to talk to their witches. Their magic is better than ours.”

“You were not, but all right,” I said, and my voice fissured with something between relief and frustration. How long was he going to play with me before he got bored?

“So I get on a ship, and as you know, you sail down the length of Africa with the land on your left and the sea on your right, due south, yes?”

“And the sun rises in the east and sets in the west . . .”

He narrowed his eyes and closed his fist at me. “After about two months’ sailing, there’s a place where it all turns around. The sea is still on your right and the land is on your left, but now you’re going due north, and the sun rises in the west and sets in the east.”

“And then I expect you met a sea monster.”

“I’ve never met a sea monster. But.”

For a burning flash of a second, I thought: No one has ever been this kind to me. Helios had an obligation, commanders and wards are kin, but this was something else. This was ludicrous, painful kindness. Obviously it was a trick and it was going to end with some kind of fresh horror for me, but it didn’t matter. I wanted it anyway. I cut another slice of bread, thinking of all those Athenians I’d known at Troy who knew the alcohol would kill them one day and agreed the Theban companies were right to ban it entirely—but drank themselves into oblivion all the same.

“At a port on the coast in Africa, there were ships from another kingdom. They said they had come from beyond India. The ships were . . .” He lifted his hand high above the table. “Fully the size of towns. The people on them look different to us, they’re taller and paler and they sing to each other instead of speaking. While I was there, it was one of their holy days, and they made shapes with fire in the sky.”

“No they didn’t,” I said, a laugh breaking through even though I hadn’t expected it. “You’re worse than the bards. Oh, by the way, I met a cyclops on the way home, he ate my crew, I definitely didn’t lose them on that tricky wrecking shore round by the Cyclades.”

“If you say so,” he said happily.

It should have been maddening. Usually I couldn’t stand it if I wasn’t sure whether someone was lying to me, but this was different. He didn’t expect me to believe it any more than the bards did. He was just showing me bright things.

But the way he was glimmering at me: I had a creeping suspicion that actually, the joke was that everything he had just told me was true. The idea that it might be, and the world really might be that brighter, more deinos version of the one I thought I knew, made me sit back a little, feeling small but in a good way. I was one person with insignificant problems on a rocky barren plain at the end of the world. Maybe, in a kingdom beyond India, there were people who sang instead of talking and painted with fire in the sky.

“You’re a good witch,” I said at last.

He rested his head on his hand, looking far too pleased with the compliment for someone who was going to murder me soon. “All flowers, cakes, and other tokens of adoration gratefully accepted at the end of the show.”

I got up.

“Where are you going?” he asked, wariness inking into his voice.

“I have eggs; I have your honey. I’m making you a cake.”

He looked delighted. “Really?”