clothes and jewels read more like stones for walls and cloth for ships’ sails. It would be so much easier to take the books out from under this little busybody’s nose.
“I’m sorry to hear that, but if you two wait, you won’t have time. The first task, one set out by Hera herself, must be completed by the end of the day and it’s an hour’s journey to where the lion was last seen.”
“Lion?” Herc asks.
“Yes, the Nemean Lion. The governor of the district says the beast has been perusing the hills of Eastern Portaceae making snacks of livestock. And children.”
Herc flinches at the mention of children at risk. Hera is right—it is enjoyable to watch him suffer.
“But we have no weapons. How do you expect us to succeed?” Iolalus asks.
“You’ll find a way. Perhaps the Herenes keep a stock of weapons.” I give a questioning glance to the priestess.
“You know we don’t,” Iole says.
“Pity.”
Just then a man on horseback canters into the courtyard causing quite a commotion as the hobbling old woman brandishes a rake and yells at him to get off her paths. His long, black hair tied back with a strip of leather emphasizes his beak-like nose and angular face. The man reminds me so much of a bird that if he took off his tunic I wouldn’t be surprised to see wings sticking out of his back. His dusky brown horse, loaded down with equipment, stops beside us.
“Greetings, Altair,” I say.
“Gods be with you, Excellency.”
“Herc, Iolalus, meet your film crew, Altair Athos.”
“And why do we need a film crew?” Iolalus asks.
“Clearly, because I want to watch you. Altair can send a live stream that will go straight to my villa. And don’t ask me how, I’m no engineer.”
“It’s to do with the signals we can pick up from—”
“Do you know how much electricity costs?” Iole demands, cutting off Altair’s explanation. “You want to use electricity for your entertainment when it could be used to power equipment to build stronger buildings, pump water, bake bread. This is ridiculous. Electricity should be for everyone, not just the Solon.”
“Calm yourself, priestess. It’s not my fault the people placed electricity in the hands of the Osterian Council. They’re the ones that charge so much. They’re the ones that only allot a small quantity of electrical power to each polis. Not me. I’m as much a victim as everyone else in Portaceae. Now, if you’re worried about the cost, I promise to only turn on the screen during the good parts.”
I smile at my own cleverness, but the Herene’s scowl deepens enough to form a furrow between her eyes.
“Let everyone watch,” she says. “Since you won’t give them safe conditions, good jobs, or food, at least give your people some entertainment.”
I have to admit, I like this idea. A show at the arena will be just like the games we once presented. Games always get people into the arena and, once in the stands and watching a riveting show, they spend their drachars to satiate their hunger and thirst. Since thirty percent of the arena vendors’ take goes straight into my coffers—
“A brilliant idea, Priestess. I’m sure we can dig up some engineers who can get the arena screen working.”
“That’s another thing, Excellency.” How skillful she is at making my title sound like filth she needs to scrape off her shoe. “You need to hire engineers to shore up some of these buildings. If another earthquake hits, the hospital will be overwhelmed with injuries. We can barely handle the ones coming in from—”
“My dear, we should cover this when we go over the budget next. You wouldn’t want these men to fail because you’re worried about a few bumps and bruises.”
She opens her mouth as if to argue, but then shoots a fretful look to Herc. He meets her eyes briefly before becoming interested in a pebble in his sandal, but the glance is enough to make her face soften.
Dear gods, could the Herene be lusting for my
“I’m sorry to hear that, but if you two wait, you won’t have time. The first task, one set out by Hera herself, must be completed by the end of the day and it’s an hour’s journey to where the lion was last seen.”
“Lion?” Herc asks.
“Yes, the Nemean Lion. The governor of the district says the beast has been perusing the hills of Eastern Portaceae making snacks of livestock. And children.”
Herc flinches at the mention of children at risk. Hera is right—it is enjoyable to watch him suffer.
“But we have no weapons. How do you expect us to succeed?” Iolalus asks.
“You’ll find a way. Perhaps the Herenes keep a stock of weapons.” I give a questioning glance to the priestess.
“You know we don’t,” Iole says.
“Pity.”
Just then a man on horseback canters into the courtyard causing quite a commotion as the hobbling old woman brandishes a rake and yells at him to get off her paths. His long, black hair tied back with a strip of leather emphasizes his beak-like nose and angular face. The man reminds me so much of a bird that if he took off his tunic I wouldn’t be surprised to see wings sticking out of his back. His dusky brown horse, loaded down with equipment, stops beside us.
“Greetings, Altair,” I say.
“Gods be with you, Excellency.”
“Herc, Iolalus, meet your film crew, Altair Athos.”
“And why do we need a film crew?” Iolalus asks.
“Clearly, because I want to watch you. Altair can send a live stream that will go straight to my villa. And don’t ask me how, I’m no engineer.”
“It’s to do with the signals we can pick up from—”
“Do you know how much electricity costs?” Iole demands, cutting off Altair’s explanation. “You want to use electricity for your entertainment when it could be used to power equipment to build stronger buildings, pump water, bake bread. This is ridiculous. Electricity should be for everyone, not just the Solon.”
“Calm yourself, priestess. It’s not my fault the people placed electricity in the hands of the Osterian Council. They’re the ones that charge so much. They’re the ones that only allot a small quantity of electrical power to each polis. Not me. I’m as much a victim as everyone else in Portaceae. Now, if you’re worried about the cost, I promise to only turn on the screen during the good parts.”
I smile at my own cleverness, but the Herene’s scowl deepens enough to form a furrow between her eyes.
“Let everyone watch,” she says. “Since you won’t give them safe conditions, good jobs, or food, at least give your people some entertainment.”
I have to admit, I like this idea. A show at the arena will be just like the games we once presented. Games always get people into the arena and, once in the stands and watching a riveting show, they spend their drachars to satiate their hunger and thirst. Since thirty percent of the arena vendors’ take goes straight into my coffers—
“A brilliant idea, Priestess. I’m sure we can dig up some engineers who can get the arena screen working.”
“That’s another thing, Excellency.” How skillful she is at making my title sound like filth she needs to scrape off her shoe. “You need to hire engineers to shore up some of these buildings. If another earthquake hits, the hospital will be overwhelmed with injuries. We can barely handle the ones coming in from—”
“My dear, we should cover this when we go over the budget next. You wouldn’t want these men to fail because you’re worried about a few bumps and bruises.”
She opens her mouth as if to argue, but then shoots a fretful look to Herc. He meets her eyes briefly before becoming interested in a pebble in his sandal, but the glance is enough to make her face soften.
Dear gods, could the Herene be lusting for my
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