Chapter Text
Odysseus spun to see a man in a suit made of fine white cloth, wearing a matching hat with a thin brim, adorned with a small white feather over one ear. No.. both ears, Odysseus corrected as the stranger turned his head to look at the men, a wide grin spreading over his face. His tan skin was unwrinkled, and his hair was sandy and curly. Over his eyes he wore dark lenses, looking over their rims with bright blue eyes. In his hand, he carried a walking stick, adorned with an intricate gold pattern, but he didn’t seem to need it to walk. He passed it casually from hand to hand, twirling it without looking, as if he carried it only to distract the eyes from what was happening elsewhere.
“Hello children,” the stranger said.
“Children? You’re hardly older than we are,” Eurylochus said, coming up to the bars.
“Looks can be deceiving,” the man tapped the side of his nose with one finger and winked broadly at Odysseus. “Now how shall we get you out of here?”
“Who are you?” Odysseus asked.
“Let’s call me, a friend of the family,” The stranger said. He opened the door to the hallways and called something Odysseus didn’t catch.
An officer, a young man Odysseus didn’t recognize came in holding a ring of keys.
“Um, you… three,” he pointed at Odysseus, Polites, and Eurylochus, then unlocked and opened the door. They stepped out alongside the stranger, and the officer then opened the door to Cassandra’s cell. She stepped forward, more timid than Odysseus had seen in a long time. She stared at the stranger suspiciously, but her focus was clear: no prophecies then.
“Do I know you?” she asked, but the man just smiled.
“I’m the one who just convinced the fine officers of this establishment to let you go,” he said. “Follow me,”
“Now wait,” Odysseus held up a hand. “I’m not leaving here without Asterion.”
The stranger cocked his head to one side slightly. “Oh yes… the child. He’s about.. two now?”
The four of them looked at the floor, no one willing to admit they didn’t know the child’s age specifically, but the stranger laughed, opening the door. “He waits for us in the lobby,” he said, leading the way.
“Wait—” Odysseus said again. “What is going to happen to my men?”
“They’ll be here,” The stranger said, putting a hand on Odysseus’ back and giving him a gentle push forward. “We all decided it would be safer if they stayed here, and had those talks with that psychiatrist of Louiza’s.”
“We?” Odysseus asked at the same time that Eurylochus asked:
“What’s a psychiatrist?”
“Oh, never mind, here’s the boy!” The stranger gestured widely and, down the hall, the same woman officer that had taken Asterion from Louiza was waiting for them.
Asterion babbled and shrieked when he saw Odysseus, who reached for the child, but, the officer pulled back, hesitant.
“You don’t have to worry,” the stranger said, patting the woman on the arm reassuringly. “My cousin is confused, but he takes good care of his kids. Go on, kiddo,” He gestured at Odysseus, who hesitated for only a heartbeat, before reaching for Asterion again.
This time the officer let him take the boy, who reached up and grabbed a fistful of Odysseus’ hair, sucking on his free hand enthusiastically.
“What— why are you helping us?” Odysseus asked, but the stranger just put a finger to his lips and led the way out of the building.
Odysseus blinked in the bright sunshine as they stepped onto the stone marina of Ithaki. The ship had been docked neatly and expertly, and the two massive ewes that had been in the hold were now standing on the stones, eating from an equally large bale of hay, which had been rolled into a cylinder. A team of officers stood on the docks watching the sheep, or on the deck, looking confused.
Most of the earlier crowd had dissipated, leaving only a few curious bystanders behind a temporary-looking fence. One such man waved at Odysseus and his friends.
“You there! Hey you! Is this your ship, I’m a student at the University of Athens and I’m studying ancient mythology in the area. Can you tell me what sources you used for the research in building your boat? What made you decide to build the penteconter instead of the better-documented trireme?” He hardly seemed to pause for breath as Odysseus stared at him. “Is it true that you were sailing with no navigational equipment or radio, not even for emergencies? What would you do if you got lost? Or was that the point? What’s with the sheep? Are they real? Were you going to eat them? Were you worried about your crew contracting scurvy? Was it some kind of experiment— were you trying to trace the old route? Did you sail all the way from Turkey?”
“No more questions, please,” the stranger called confidently, sliding past one of the barriers and ushering Odysseus and the others to follow. Odysseus’ head was spinning. He didn’t really know what a “trireme” was, or where “Turkey” was, but, he hoped that the stranger would provide some answers.
They walked in silence down narrow streets for several minutes before the stranger turned back to them, grinning widely.
“That was fun, huh? I haven’t been this hands-on with mortals for years.” He pulled a face. “Or has it been… decades, centuries?” He looked thoughtful, counting on his fingers absently. “Forget it. It’s good to see you again, old friend.”
“Do I know you?”
“Child, you don’t recognize your own great-grandfather?” The stranger whipped off his glasses and for a flash, Odysseus saw him in far more familiar clothing, a cap with wings—before reverting back to the suit and hat.
“Hermes—I—” Odysseus stammered. His grandfather had been a son of Hermes, though, at three generations removed, Odysseus had inherited very little godly power, if any.
“But the question of the era is; what are you doing here?” Hermes interrupted, looking between the four of them. “It may have been a long time ago, but I know my blood when I see it, and last I checked you all died over four thousand years ago unless you were somehow granted immortality and even Poseidon was never that cruel— probably.”
“Four thousand years?” Eurylochus repeated in shock.
“And that’s highly unlikely given your um, state,” Hermes continued like he hadn’t spoken, looking them up and down. “No one wears chitons anymore, gentlemen.” He glanced at Cassandra. “You could still pull it off, but you’re going to need some shoes.”
Cassandra looked at her bare feet, her cheeks turning red. She had hardly said a word since they’d gone through the portal. Odysseus reached out to her, concerned, but Hermes clapped his hands and drew all their attention again.
“Our chariot awaits, you can stay at my house while we get this figured out.”
“You have a house?” Odysseus asked.
“It’s a recent acquisition,” Hermes said with a wink. “As is the chariot. This way.”
Once again he led them through streets Odysseus thought should be familiar to him but they were not until they came to another plaza, where a number of the colorful machines that Odysseus had seen by the marina were lined up in neat rows. Hermes held up a small device and pressed something on it, and one of the machines honked.
“Alright, everybody in the car!” Hermes said, opening the doors to reveal a pair of comfortable seats in the front and a sofa-like bench in the back. He helped Cassandra into the front seat and gestured for the three men to climb in the back.
They squeezed in, and Hermes closed the doors behind them, closing them into a very small space.
“I don’t think I like this,” Polites muttered.
“Where are the horses?” Eurylochus asked.
“No horses!” Hermes said, inserting a key into its keyhole in the front panel of the vehicle and the car roared to life. “We ride!”
Music blasted from all around them, and Odysseus jumped, accidentally elbowing Eurylochus in the ribs, and they were moving, much too fast through the streets. Odysseus closed his eyes, held Asterion close, and prayed for it to be over soon.
Hermes’ place turned out to be an old stone farmhouse surrounded by grapevines, high on the hill above the town. Vines grew around its door, and the roof was made of red tiles. Windows with brightly painted shutters looked out over the tiled courtyard. The sun was setting as they arrived,
“It belongs to a lovely old couple,” Hermes said, bringing the car to a stop. “Wouldn’t you know it, they won the lottery this morning, and have gone on a cruise around the world. So the place is ours for a while. You can have your pick of bedrooms, there’s enough for all.”
It could have been a palace to Odysseus, for how inviting it looked.
Hermes opened the doors, and he practically fell out of the back seat after Polites, who was particularly eager to get out of the vehicle. Odysseus watched him disappear into the vineyard, holding his stomach, and let him go, understanding the queasy feeling.
Hermes paid no notice but gestured grandly to the house. “Welcome to our base of operations!”
Hermes led them on a tour through the house, naming rooms and banging on the walls, and bathing the entire house in a warm glow, as lamps were lit in their passing. He demonstrated the bathrooms, instructing them on how to operate the taps, and which soaps to use where. He gave them each clothing, heaping cloth into their arms generously and explaining each item.
“We’re not stupid,” Eurylochus had to interject as Hermes explained the sleeveless top he had given to him.
“Says the man four thousand years in the future, still wearing a chiton,” Hermes retorted. “Quiet now, and listen.”
Finally, though, their heads whirling, they all stood in the doorways of individual bedrooms, Hermes directing them like he was conducting music.
“I will leave you to all get settled,” The god exclaimed, “while I make dinner.”
And he was back down the stairs, leaving the four staring at each other in shock.
Ever practical, Eurylochus was the first to move. He shrugged. “Well, we should be good guests, and do as we are told.” The others chuckled, and the tension lifted from Odysseus’ shoulders. So far… this adventure had proven a lot less dangerous than their last, and perhaps that would continue to hold true.
Odysseus was just buttoning up the shirt Hermes had lent him, his hair still damp from a bath, when he heard the clatter of something metal hitting tile, keys maybe, and a woman’s voice, but not Cassandra’s.
“I rode up and down the island, and nothing,” the voice said. “I can’t figure it out. It was such a strong feeling, like a ‘disturbance in the Force’. Please tell me you had more success?”
“My dear sister,” That was Hermes’ voice. “Did you not check Twitter?”
“You know I hate Twitter, but yes, I checked it. The only noteworthy thing was some college kids or something dressing up and attempting to build a boat. It happens every summer. If you’re trying to make me feel better by suggesting we go correct them on historical accuracy, the answer’s no. I have to find out what called me here. It was something I haven’t felt since….”
While they spoke, Odysseus crept down the steps, his bare feet making no noise on the tile floor, and he paused in the doorway to the kitchen, where Hermes—now dressed more casually in a linen shirt he’d only half-buttoned and baggy shorts, was speaking with a woman in a tight-fitting leather jacket. Her hair was braided back, and she seemed younger than Odysseus was used to, but her eyes… those were unmistakable.
He stepped into the bright lights of the kitchen and tried to think of something clever to say, but instead, what came out was: “Athena?”