Necessity by Jo Walton

most people a long time to master. But then, he was a god. “I think you all know Jason?” Thee went on.
    â€œYes,” Aroo said, making the head-bow to Jason. “You are in charge of the boat where Marsilia and Hilfa work. Joy to you, Jason.”
    â€œJoy to you, Aroo. And that’s right,” Jason said, making a creditable response to the head-bow. He’d been there the day Hilfa was trying to teach it to me. The memory of our shared laughter steadied me.
    â€œSo tell me about your gods?” Hermes asked Aroo, directly.
    Aroo blinked her silvery inner eyelids across her eyes, and took a tiny step backwards. A tiny step was all she could take, because there was so little room, and now her back was to the wall. “We have four major religions,” she said, carefully, without unveiling her eyes. “Three of them have gods. Most of us here prefer the fourth.”
    â€œBut you’re not used to gods showing up at parties?” Hermes asked, and giggled. He couldn’t be drunk on that over-watered wine, unless he’d been here for a long time.
    â€œReligion is for us a more private thing,” Aroo said, sounding very much like Hilfa now. “We do not have people enact the roles of gods, no, nor do we worship in public as part of civic life the way humans do. There are those who could instruct you, but I am not one of them.” She closed her eyes completely now, lowering the colored outer lids.
    â€œBut—” Hermes began.
    â€œEnough,” Dad said, sternly. “You’re making Aroo uncomfortable, and she is a guest here.”
    I wouldn’t have cared to refuse Dad when he spoke in that tone, but Hermes had another laughing objection on his lips when Aroo suddenly opened her eyes and fled, thrusting her empty cup at Porphyry and backing out through the door of the sleeping house and into the street. Porphyry took the cup, turned it in his hands with a strange gesture, then nodded to Hermes. “I see,” he said, at his most gnomic. Porphyry is my uncle, and I love him, but he can also be one of the most infuriatingly enigmatic people on the planet. “I will speak with you tomorrow.” Then he vanished, still holding the cup. Hermes kept smiling but did not speak.
    At that moment, Alkippe came in from the garden and began wiggling her way across the room towards us. Hermes smiled over at the child as she approached, then paused. For the first time since I’d known him there was no smile twitching at the corners of his lips.
    â€œYour daughter?” he asked Thetis, uncertainly.
    â€œMy niece. Your step-great-grandniece.” Thetis was smiling again, but Hermes still looked grave. I saw a family resemblance between him and Pytheas, not in feature, but in his expression as he looked down at Alkippe as she approached. I didn’t know what to do or say. I hadn’t imagined that he’d recognize his connection to her.
    â€œYour daughter, I think,” Dad said. He sounded matter-of-fact about it. Jason’s eyebrows rose into his hair. Thee gasped.
    â€œI think so too,” Hermes replied, not looking up from Alkippe, who had reached us. She hugged my legs, and I put down a hand to smooth her hair. Then she gave Thetis the same hug, looking up at Hermes wonderingly.
    â€œFate plays strange tricks sometimes,” he said. “What’s your name, little one?”
    â€œAlkippe,” she said.
    â€œA lovely name,” Hermes said. “And how old are you?”
    â€œSeven and a half,” Alkippe said. “Why aren’t you wearing any clothes?”
    Jason gave a bark of laughter, then choked it off.
    â€œI’m more comfortable that way,” Hermes said, smoothly.
    â€œBut aren’t you cold? Outside I mean?” I could see the gap in her teeth as she spoke.
    â€œNo, I didn’t feel cold. I was flying and that kept me warm.”
    â€œOh.” She didn’t seem surprised