“Of course not. What he does is to place his friends in power, Athenians whom he has bought with gold and silver. He uses our democracy to serve his own ends.”
“But he leaves your democracy untouched,” I said. “Would the Great King allow that, if he were in Philip’s place?”
“But he’s not.”
“He will be, sooner or later, if we can believe Aristotle.”
Demosthenes threw up his hands. “Bah! This is getting us nowhere.” He turned to Ketu. “Ambassador Svertaketu, I will ponder the terms you bring from Philip and make my recommendation to the Great King. You may go.”
I took a step toward the door.
“Not you, Orion,” said Demosthenes. “I have further words for you.”
Ketu glanced at me, then made a small bow to Demosthenes and left the room. The soldiers outside snapped to attention and escorted him down the corridor, to his own quarters in the palace, I presumed.
Clapping his hands sharply enough to make the slave woman jump, Demosthenes said, “You too. Go. Leave us.”
She hurried for the door.
“And close the door behind you!”
She did as he commanded.
“All right, then,” I said. “What do you want of me?”
“Not him, Orion,” said a voice from behind me. “I’m the one who has a message for you.”
I turned and saw the Golden One, Aten, the self-styled god who created me. He glowed with energy. Golden hair, flawless face, body as strong and powerful as my own. He wore a magnificent robe of pure white, trimmed in gold. He had not been with us an instant earlier, and there was neither a door nor a window on that side of the room.
Glancing back at Demosthenes, I saw that he was frozen into immobility, like a statue.
“Don’t worry about him,” said the Golden One. “He can neither see nor hear us.”
His smile was wolfish. A shock of recognition raced through me. He looked like an older Alexandros—so much so that he could have been Alexandros’ father.
CHAPTER 21
“You recognize me,” said Aten, smiling with self-satisfaction.
“Where is Anya?” I asked.
“Athena,” he corrected. “In this timeplace she is known as Athena.”
“Where is she? Is she here?”
His smile disappeared instantly. “Anya will be here briefly; near here, at any rate. At a mountain called Ararat. Do you know where that is?”
“Yes!”
“She wants to see you there, but she can be there only for a very short time. It’s up to you to get there in time to meet with her.”
“When?”
“As you reckon time, in five weeks. Five weeks from today’s sundown. That is when she will appear at the summit of Ararat. Although why she continues to bother about you is beyond me.”
“Can you take me there?”
He shook his golden head. “Orion, I am your creator, not a delivery service.”
“But, five weeks—Ararat is so far away.”
He shrugged. “It’s up to you, Orion. If you want to see her, you will get there on time.”
Sudden anger welled up in me. “What is this, another one of your childish games? Some kind of a test to see if your creature can be made to jump through another hoop?”
“It’s not a game, Orion.” His face went hard, grim. “This is deadly serious.”
“Then tell me what’s going on!” I demanded.
With an exasperated huff, Aten answered, “It’s your own fault, creature. Anya took on human form because she felt sorry for you, and she found that she enjoyed being a human. She even thinks she loves you, whatever that means.”
“She does love me.” I said the words half as a hope, half to reassure myself.
“If it comforts you to think so,” sneered the Golden One. “Anya seemed so taken by the attractions of human form that some of the other Creators have dabbled at it. Hera and I came to this era and began to play at making kings and emperors.”
“You and Hera?”
“Does that shock you, Orion? I must confess that human passions can be very… intense. Almost satisfying.”
“Hera wants to make the son she bore to Philip into emperor of the whole world.”