Fred Saberhagen The Book of the Gods 02 Ariadne's Web

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crystal cups. A chorus of singing, dancing satyrs and maenads, beginning on
schedule the next phase of their performance, as their master had commanded,
took form out of nowhere to surround their master, and the princess, who was
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still lost from view inside her improvised bathchamber of steam and gauze.
Meanwhile, the revamping of the princess's dress proceeded quickly. Coarse
dirty
cloth, only briefly visible as it emerged from the chamber of the bath,
appeared
to be consumed in a white flame, fire that burned or heated nothing but the
stuff that it destroyed. Replacing the discarded rags came gauzy fabrics,
silk
from somewhere past the edge of the known world, gold thread and fine
embroidery. In the traditional high fashion of the queenly women of Corycus,
the
style left her breasts bare.
As always, the entourage of Dionysus managed to convey, even in their dullest
routine actions, a hint of frenzy. For a moment Alex could feel the turmoil
strongly and he cringed inwardly. But this time the onslaught was not
overwhelming. Something something that even the god found strange and
unfamiliar tempered the impulse toward madness, turned it away from the mania
that sought blood, and even from lustful coupling, toward a less fleshy and
more
inward ecstasy.
Now, with his beloved for the time being out of earshot, Alex took the
opportunity to call Silenus to a full accounting.
As soon as the goatish figure stood before him, he demanded of it, "Explain
the
matter of the Face."
Which Face does my lord mean?
"Which Face do I ? How many Faces are we talking about? You know what I
mean."
Alex tapped his own forehead. "How it came to be in the medallion."
While we were still on Corycus, lord, one of us who now make up your loyal
entourage one of us observed the work of clever Daedalus, a man who in my
opinion, lord, is himself most worthy of apotheosis. Indeed, we might have
left
your Face where he would find it, had I not been fearful that instead of
putting
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it on, he would have wasted much time in a useless attempt to cut it open,
looking for its secrets.
" 'One of us' meaning yourself, I suppose. Stop these damned circumlocutions
and
get on with it. Why didn't you simply tell me, the first time you dragged me
into the chariot, that the treasure I sought was hanging around my own neck .
.
. ?" Alex's voice died before he had finished the question. Now, with the
experience of a god to draw upon, he could find a reasonable answer for
himself,
even before the ready voice of the satyr furnished one.
Great lord, had you been reborn while still on Corycus, your new avatar would
inevitably have been exposed to great peril.
There could have been no time of accommodation, of the necessary development
of
your new avatar, before you had to face your enemies again.
"That might make sense," the Twice-Born admitted. "Especially if Shiva were
taking an interest in what happened on the island. It might, I say. Any other
reason?"
The satyr briefly hung his head. Also it is possible remotely possible, I
must
admit that your poor servant Silenus was experiencing the joys of wine when
he
hid the Face.
"Yes? Go on."
And when . . .
"Yes?"
When sober again, had forgotten where he put it.
There was a silence.
"Ah, Silenus," Dionysus whispered at last. For once it seemed the god had
been
shocked into solemnity.
Evidently mortified by that stunned whisper, the satyr remained silent, eyes
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lowered, shuffling the goat-hooves that he used for feet.
Presently Dionysus sighed. "I see. We must let that pass, for now. Now wait,
don't go darting away. I have another question for you."
Yes, lord?
"A moment ago, you seemed genuinely uncertain as to which Face I was talking
about."
Alex was vaguely surprised as Dionysus moved forward two long strides on
Alex's
legs, reached out an arm, Alex's right arm, and with the power of a god
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