Aeolus shook his head. “I do not know. But I was once a god . . . I do not like this. I will thwart it with my small power. Now go. And take care with that bag.”
“I’ll look after it for you,” offered Odysseus. “I’ll see it safely stowed. You can trust me. I’m a prince.”
“You’re enough of a bag of wind, without adding this one to your responsibilities,” snapped Medea. “Typical damned Hellene.”
“I’m an Achaean!” protested Odysseus.
Aeolus had provided the wind he’d promised, and had also provided Jerry with further food for thought.
He sat with Lamont, watching over the windsack. “Look. Every step we take we learn a fraction more. We’ve just got to put the pieces together. Then somehow we can break out of here, I’m sure.”
Lamont pulled a face. “And we’ve got to stay alive. Obviously whatever the thing is, it’s manipulating this place and its gods as if they were puppets.”
Jerry nodded. “Rather disobedient and inefficient puppets. But still dancing according to strings that something is pulling somewhere.”
“So what do we do about it?” asked Lamont.
Jerry ran his fingers through his hair. “Brace ourselves. The next problem’s coming. The ancient Greek gods tended to work through intermediaries, but Zeus, for example, was quite capable of tossing thunderbolts. We’ve got problems, if they’ve got it in for us.”
* * *
And problems weren’t long in coming. Poseidon’s minions found them at about two in the morning. It was a very rude awakening from sweet dreams.
The noise was reminiscent of a hippopotamus being sick into the big end of a tuba, which was, at the same time, being played by a very inept player. Only that description is really too mild. It sat every person on the ship bolt upright. Bolt upright and reaching for weapons in most cases. Which was just as well.
Triton was leading the charge himself, in a chariot drawn by pincer-footed white-foam horses. He was blowing like fury on an enormous trumpetlike shell. His look-alike minions showed that imitation was the sincerest form of flattery. The half-human Triton-genii were very like their master. From the chest up they were human enough. Below this they were scaled and finned, the sinuous sea monster bodies ending in a predator’s narrow-forked caudal fin. They carried a variety of tridents and barbed harpoons. Their musical skill carried “bad” to new depths.
Odysseus and his men had other faults, but a lack of courage in a fight for their lives wasn’t one of them. The Tritons had expected panic. Instead they were thrust off. Speared. Shot. Attacked by dragons. And all the while Medea calmly walked along the central passage between the rowing benches and anointed the oars with a potion of her own. When she’d finished, she walked up to Odysseus and told him to get the oars into the water.
Medea was a former princess and a person of power. When she told Odysseus to tell the men to get the oars out, he jumped to it.
The Tritons backed off.
“They will not dare to come within twenty cubits of those oars,” said Medea calmly.
* * *
The men found this comforting. Unfortunately it didn’t keep the Tritons out of earshot. The Tritons took it in turns to “accompany” the ship with the blaring of their conches. And by midmorning it was painfully apparent that the Tritons weren’t going to give up easily. Beeswax might shut out sirens but, for sheer volume and terrible low-frequency noise that penetrated to the very marrow of their bones, this was unbeatable. Tina Turner in competition just increased their volume.
“Merde.” Henri shook a plump fist at the Tritons, who may have included a raspberry in their next arpeggio. “This is worse than German music! I think at least I should attempt to teach them some Ravel.”
“How many more days to Egypt?” yelled Liz, having to bellow to make herself heard above the cacophony.
Odysseus simply held up seven fingers. And pointed to an island on the starboard horizon. He shrugged his shoulders and threw up his hands.
Liz nodded. The noise was simply insupportable.
As they came inshore and water shifted from wine-dark to azure the Tritons drew off a bit, but not completely. The water was less than three fathoms deep. Dangerous sailing in uncharted waters. Hell, it wasn’t even something you wanted to attempt in waters you were even slightly unfamiliar with, as Aeolus’ fair wind for Egypt was moving the ship on at a good clip.