Necessity by Jo Walton Page B

now,” Hermes said.
    Pytheas was still frowning. “Well, it’s good that you came, you can test something for me. I was going to find Porphyry, but you’ll be better.”
    â€œLet me finish with this first.”
    â€œNo, it’s important,” Pytheas said.
    â€œSo is this.”
    â€œWhat, dallying with my granddaughter? Surely that can wait.” Pytheas smiled at me.
    â€œWe weren’t dallying,” I protested. My voice sounded strange in my ears.
    â€œNecessity has me by the foot,” Hermes said.
    I instinctively looked down at his feet. He had wings on his sandals. He hadn’t had those when I’d met him before. As I was looking down, the children noticed Pytheas and came running up, crowding round him asking questions.
    â€œJoy to you, yes, I’m here, yes, but go inside now. You can tell everyone I’m here and I’ll come in and talk to them, but I need to speak to my brother first.”
    They protested, of course, but Pytheas shooed them inside, some laughing and some crying. He closed the door and turned back to us. The garden seemed very dark and quiet without the children and the bar of light from the door. I realized that Pytheas was much better lit than anything else, as if the starlight were concentrating itself on him.
    â€œNecessity?” Pytheas said to Hermes, as if there had been no interruption.
    â€œYour step-granddaughter Marsilia is the mother of my daughter Alkippe, but I’ve never been here before today. So I need to discover how this came to be and set it straight.”
    Pytheas winced. “I appreciate how uncomfortable this is, but—” he began.
    â€œNo, wait,” I said, wanting to clarify things. “You died, and you’re here, and that’s not the most important thing that’s happened today. I’ve found out the father of my daughter is the god Hermes, and that’s not the most important thing that’s happened today either. Even this time loop, disconcerting as it is, isn’t the most important. You have to know, there’s a human ship in orbit.”
    Both gods looked at me with the same infuriating lack of expression, the same air of fathomless calm indifference.
    â€œA human ship!” I repeated. “Recontact with the wider universe! A chance to rejoin the human mainstream and influence it!”
    â€œYes,” Pytheas said, with a wave of his hand. “But you can deal with that perfectly well yourself.” I gasped. “You’re a Gold of the Just City, you can deal with it, or what have we been doing here? Hermes, I can’t find Athene.”
    â€œCan’t find her?” Hermes looked down shiftily.
    â€œTry reaching for her.”
    â€œCan’t I sort out this mess first?” He gestured towards me, sounding petulant.
    â€œIt’ll take less time than arguing. If you can find her, then—”
    Hermes shook his head. “Nothing.”
    â€œGo outside time and try.”
    â€œLook, let me talk to Marsilia for five minutes and then stay here for two heartbeats while I sort this out, and I’ll do all the running around looking for Athene you want,” Hermes said.
    â€œShe’s missing?” I asked. I had a really bad feeling about this. “Lost?”
    Suddenly I had all of their attention. Hermes seemed particularly intent.
    â€œIt seems so. Have you seen her?” Pytheas asked.
    â€œAbout two years ago, after the Panathenaic Festival, she came to me and Thetis in the sanctuary when we were putting the new cloak on her statue.” I could remember it clearly. She’d come into the room carrying her owl, and it turned its head to watch us as she moved. She was much taller than any human. There are lots of stories about Athene in the City, some good, some not so good. Thetis had clutched my hand so tightly I’d had marks for days. “She said we were her worshippers, and this was her city. I was