Quicksilver by Stephanie Spinner

hands, his palms warm on my temples, and I closed my eyes. As he chanted, I saw people, hundreds of them, rebuilding a smoldering, ruined city. It was Troy.
    The vision eased my heart a little, and when the blessing was complete and Zeus’ big, solid hands were resting on my shoulders, I could look at him without rancor.
    “I’ll be back when the war ends,” I said.
    And then I left him.

PART FIVE
The Ocean’s Navel

THIRTY
    I kept my word to Zeus. When the war ended and the dead no longer thronged to Hades, I returned to Olympus.
    Now that the gods had stopped conniving, it was a far more tranquil place. Hera and Zeus renewed their marriage vows. Aphrodite gave Athena a tall jar of wrinkle-reducing face cream, and they buried the hatchet. Ares, despondent without his daily battles, retreated to his armory. Eris went away somewhere to sulk.
    I recovered slowly. Playing my pipes helped, and so did dancing with the Graces, but nothing cheered me as much as reclaiming Pegasus. The dryads had cared for him in my absence, and, as forest spirits will, they’d adorned him with vines and wildflowers, tufts of moss, and a garland of bright red berries. None of it diminished his beauty.
    On the day I came for him, he greeted me with a long, throaty, almost reproachful nicker. As we left the forest, I stroked his neck and told him he looked silly. Then we took to the heavens.
    We wandered for days. I sang many songs to him about how much I’d missed him, and when I stopped, so had the hateful whispering in my head.
    Some days later, on a sunny spring afternoon, Zeus summoned me. Finding the audience hall empty—it often was at this hour—I went out to the western terrace. Zeus had recently taken up gardening. Now he was on his knees, pruning an enormous climbing rose. After sending a vague gesture of greeting in my direction, he resumed his work, studying the thorny green branch before him as if it contained a hidden message. Then he made his cut, studied the branch again, and moved on to the next. His deep, tuneless humming was like the song of a giant bee.
    I was perfectly content to idle in the garden, but after he’d pruned dozens of branches without saying a word or looking my way, I decided he’d forgotten me. At that very moment he said, “You seem happier these days.”
    I told him I was.
    “What would make you happier still?”
    The question surprised me. Zeus often wanted to know what I thought, but only if I could help him solve a problem. Otherwise, he tended to command.
    I phrased my answer carefully. “Not that I’m complaining,” I said, “but I’d rather bring luck to the living than comfort to the dead.”
    “Hmm.” He got to his feet, wiped his hands on his robe, then drank thirstily from a silver goblet. His wide brow was sweaty and streaked with dirt, but it was smooth again; the deep lines and furrows of the war years had gone. He, too, was happier these days.
    “I think I have the perfect mission for you,” he said. “Have you ever heard of the Ocean’s Navel?”
    When I shook my head, he sank into a chair and motioned for me to join him.
    “It’s an island called Ogygia,” he said, “in the very center of the ocean, which is how it got its nickname. The nymph Calypso lives there, with Odysseus.”
    “The Greek captain?” Odysseus had planned, designed, and helped to build the Trojan Horse, a brilliant hoax that led directly to Troy’s downfall. I’d been curious about him for years. I’ve always liked wily mortals.
    “The very same,” said Zeus. “He and his men were shipwrecked on their way home from Troy. Odysseus was the only survivor, because Calypso rescued him.”
    “And he stayed with her?”
    “She’s been keeping him there for years.”
    “Keeping him? How?”
    “Spells, good food, stunning physical beauty.”
    None of that sounded half bad to me. “And the problem is . . .?” I asked.
    “The problem is, he’s miserable. He yearns for his wife and son and for