“It’s not you staking yours that bothers me,” grumbled Cruz. “It’s me staking mine.” He tossed the diagram into the fire. “Oh, well.”
* * *
In the small hours of the morning, as soon as the moon was down, Prometheus set off. No ship could bear his great weight, even when he drew his body into its smallest volume. He would have to cross over to the Greek mainland across the Hellespont by himself.
Liz was dying to cut him up, stick him under a microscope and see how he worked. . . .
She shook off the idle thought. She had to see to a sea party. With an escort from Oceanus, they would be sneaking across from island to island to mainland Greece, heading for the ancient halls of the Titans on Mt. Ortherys. With a crew of spiders, and a cargo of balloon fragments.
* * *
When their ship arrived, they found that Greece was a place of smoking devastation. On the march up to Ortherys they passed through the remains of a town.
In the colonnaded and painted temple, the altar still dripped red. Yet not even the bloody sacrifice of their children had saved the people. Devastation and fire had been their reward. Liz stopped to be sick. Medea comforted her. But the sorceress’ eyes were hard. “There will be a reckoning,” she said quietly. That quietness carried more force than any shouting or anger.
Lamont stood there, his hands flexing, but his face impassive.
Jerry stared at the grim scene, fixing it in his mind. Fixing it in his determination. “Yes,” he said quietly. “There will be a reckoning for the Krim.”
46
As ye sew, so shall ye reap.
The cavernous halls of the Titans on Mt. Ortherys must once have been magnificent. Now they were dusty—and crawling with spiders. Carefully, Prometheus shooed a number away before he sat on the stone seat.
“We can talk here,” he said. “Not even the powers of Olympus can spy in this place.”
“Besides, they’re probably scared of spiders,” said Cruz grumpily. Jerry realized that the sergeant hadn’t had much private time together with Medea lately. And Medea’s mind was on her children again.
Prometheus smiled briefly. “Now, I have asked great Oceanus to try to free Typhoeus. He is a terrible monster but the only one who has ever defeated Zeus. But we cannot rely on this. We must proceed as if we had no expectations of help. And the Olympians will not wait for us on Olympus. Soon they will sally out on Lydia, and find that we aren’t there. We must act soon or not at all. . . . Why are you twisting your pretty hair like that, my dear?”
“I’m worried about my children,” said Medea. The scene in that temple was still obviously upsetting her.
Prometheus smiled widely this time. “I have sent Throttler to fetch them.”
“But—”
“I am called foresight, my dear,” explained Prometheus. “She is much faster than the dragons and the children are light.”
Medea swallowed. “But won’t Throttler eat them?”
“Lamont has threatened to tell the entire world both answers if he does that,” said Prometheus soothingly. “Besides, Throttler is at least half human, and female herself. She likes children.”
“Right. Fried,” said Jerry, but he said it very quietly.
Prometheus gestured at the shadowy halls. “They will be safe here. Or safer than anywhere else in Greece.”
Cruz stretched. “Well done, Prometheus. Thank you. But do you want to know what piece of foresight I’ve got for you?”
Prometheus grinned. Jerry could not help but like the Titan. He was reminded of what Hesiod had said about the reign of the Titans. In those days, men and gods took food together. The Titan was not the toplofty sort.
Well, he didn’t really need to be. “Tell me, Cruz. Then I will tell everyone I thought of it.”
Cruz took a pull from his goblet of wine. “In any damn military operation, anything that can go wrong, will. The more complicated, the more likely to screw up. So keep it simple, and have lots of backup.”
Prometheus nodded. “Wisdom, indeed! So what do you suggest?”