Destroyer of Light (4 page)

“
Am I to go to… Asphodel?
”

“
No.
”

“
B-but…
”

Since she could not understand his words, Aidoneus tapped her on the hand, signaling that it was time for them to stand in judgement. They rose in unison before he spoke again. “
Hebros, son of Heamus and Rhodope, you will not be given the water of the Lethe. Instead, you will stare into the Cocytus until you understand the pain you caused others in your mortal life. We will see you again in one century to determine if you have learned enough to peacefully join the other souls in Asphodel.
”

The Thracian looked up at Aidoneus, tears staining his face. “
I will have another chance?
”

“
Yes. Now go. Aeacus will show you the way
,” Hades said. Rhadamanthys opened the door once more.

“
Thank you, my lord! You are merciful and just.
”

Persephone waited until the Thracian king was led away. She watched him pull his black himation over his head, using it as a cloak before the door shut behind him. Minos wound black ribbon around King Hebros’s scroll and secured it with a gold clasp. The three-headed image of Cerberus sealed its contents, to be opened again when the Thracian returned to this room in one hundred years. He set the parchment aside with the others.

Her husband sat beside her and took a deep breath. She laced her fingers within his. “You spoke in his own language.”

“It only seems fair…”

“Oh, I agree,” she said. “But… you can speak Thracian as well as the king of Thrace. How many languages do you speak?”

“All of them,” Aidon replied, turning to her.

She drew her hand away and looked at him in surprise.

“I’ve had an eternity to study, and learned the languages of the mortals from the shades themselves. It’s fascinating— they keep changing as the centuries go by. You too will learn them all, one day.”

“But I can’t hear the dead once they’ve drunk the waters of the Lethe. Only you can.”

He contemplated that for a moment. Aidoneus had possessed the Key for almost as long as mortals had been coming to and from the Underworld, and couldn’t imagine what overwhelming silence Asphodel must be for her. “Perhaps you’ll let me teach you myself, then.”

“You would have to, if you want me to sit at judgement with you.”

“Yes, I suppose. Sadly, I cannot read or write as many languages as I speak,” he said, his admission surprising her again. “The writing of Hellas is all I’ve been able to learn.”

Persephone smiled at him. “I can only read a few words, mostly what mortals write on the sides of temples. Which reminds me— what are those strange symbols written on the floor in our antechamber?”

“Minoan,” he said. “The words themselves are just labels on the map. Few in the world above can write in that ancient tongue anymore. Minoan is also the language the Keres use to call you their Queen.” Persephone recalled a painting she’d seen in Knossos, the ruined capital of the old empire on Crete, when her mother had fled with her from Attica’s bitter war. She had seen those symbols there, but had thought they were only crudely scrawled pictures of animals and tridents, flowers and birds. She remembered her mother pulling her away from statues of proud and tall bare-breasted goddesses and queens; her favorite had gray-blue eyes and long skirts, and held snakes aloft in each hand. She remembered paintings of men with linen wraps around their waists, trimmed beards on their chins and long dark hair pulled back from their faces.

“Perhaps you can teach me to read it one day?”

“I’d be delighted. And maybe we can learn more together. There are people outside of Hellas who have written down all sorts of things I want to read.” Aidoneus felt a corner of his mouth twist into a smile. “I’m glad you want to learn.”

“Well, I liked listening to you speak in Thracian.”

He looked straight forward, speaking under his breath to Persephone. “I thought you didn’t understand Thracian.”

“It was the sound of you speaking; the way it made me feel.”

“And how is that?”

“Aroused,” she said with a serene face, and glanced down to see his knuckles turn white on the arms of his throne. He bowed his back ever so slightly and drew in a long breath.

“When I speak in a foreign tongue?”

“Yes,” she said with a hint of a smile.

“Well then, my queen… it seems there are all sorts of things I can do with my tongue that please you,” he crooned, glancing out of the corner of his eye and smiling while she tried in vain to sit still, her thighs squirming together. He laced his fingers with hers and stroked her palm with his thumb. Aidon turned and studied her. “Do you know any languages besides our own? Any place we can start?”

“I speak the language of Attica, but not perfectly,” she said, turning her head only slightly so she could see his eyes. “You’ll have to go very slowly with me.” She watched him bite down hard on the corner of his mouth and shift in his seat when he caught her double meaning.

“Gladly,” he said, leaning toward her. “And what would you like me to say?”

“You could… tell me what you’re thinking about right now,” she said. Her stomach fluttered at just how dangerous that request was, so soon after teasing him. Aidoneus leaned over and cupped his hand to her ear. His breath tickled her neck.

“
Se skeftomai sinehia. Se thelo, glykia mou… agapimeni mou… gynaika mou
,” he whispered in her ear, “
Meta to souroupo, otan kanoume erota… otan eimai mesa sou
, maybe then, I can tell you… in detail… what I’m thinking about right now. All though I’m sure my actions will make it evident…”

Fire bloomed within her and she gripped his hand tighter, hoping that Minos didn’t hear her shortened breath. She looked straight ahead trying to maintain her composure, then shivered as he inhaled sharply next to her ear.

He caught the scent of roses on her skin and smiled before sitting back on his throne and speaking low once more. “Trust me, my love. Right now, my thoughts are not appropriate for mixed company.”

Persephone thought about what she was going to do to him tonight for teasing her like this at her first judgement hearing, and knew that he was likely thinking the same. Their passions calmed, and they resumed the appearance of a king steadfastly holding his queen’s hand while the room was at recess before their final hearing.

Rhadamanthys cleared his throat, drawing the attention of Hades and Persephone back to the door. “Your Excellencies, do you wish for Hypnos and Thanatos to bring forth the Ephyrean?”

Aidoneus turned to his wife. “I will help you, but he is all yours.”

“Are you sure?”

“You questioned Merope; not I. You sent Thanatos and Hypnos after Sisyphus. Her testimony is instrumental in the judgement we will pass on him today. You
must
take the lead.”

“But I can’t hear his thoughts,” she said.

“Leave that to me, my love. I am right here with you,” he said, squeezing her hand.

Persephone faced the door. “Rhadamanthys, please send him in.”

“Yes, my queen.”

The door opened loudly, the ebony frame swinging wide. Rhadamanthys pushed open the second door, allowing Thanatos and Hypnos to escort the accused king into the throne room. After roughly releasing his arms, Death and Sleep stood on either side of Sisyphus. His hands were bound in front of him with iron manacles. A length of heavy chain, crafted to hold back the Titans, hung from his wrists. It scraped loudly across the floor.

Persephone narrowed her eyes at Sisyphus. His features were noble, like all the members of the House of Aeolus, with piercing blue eyes and gold-flecked dark hair. His shoulders were broad, but his legs were slightly short for his frame, as if he were somehow meant to be taller. Though he had seen at least forty-five years, his features were unnaturally youthful and magnetic— a convenient side effect of his sorcery. Only the darkened circles under his eyes disrupted the glamour of youth about him.

“Sisyphus,” Persephone began. “Born Aeolides, son of Aeolus and Enarete, Prince of Thessaly and King of Eph—”

Her words were interrupted by low laughter from Sisyphus and she pursed her lips together, struggling to not react or be intimidated by this creature. She could feel rage and fire emanate from Aidoneus, but intuitively knew that his face was unchanged. She did her best to copy her husband, listening to the iron Chains of Tartarus rattle as the mortal king brought both bound hands up and pointedly wiped a tear from his eye.

“Hades, honestly,” he guffawed, “is this your way of putting me in my place? To have your sweet little arm decoration punish me instead of dealing with me yourself? Or are you hiding behind her because the father and king of the new gods stands before you?”

Aidoneus felt a smile tease the corner of his mouth as he shifted on his throne and sighed. Neutrality aside, he would enjoy seeing Sisyphus punished. Without turning, he spoke to Persephone. “This one before us is a mortal man of Thessaly; a charlatan. A master of sleight of hand who calls himself a sorcerer—”

“Actually, I like to think of myself as a philosopher king,” Sisyphus interrupted. “Not unlike yourself, Hades. In truth, I’m glad Thanatos found me. I’ve never spoken with you before. I know the other immortals quite well; I even took a nymph as my consort as Poseidon did. But I’ve only ever heard you spoken of in hateful, hushed tones. Even the gods are loathe to speak your name above ground. Which makes me curious. Why have you never risen against the tyranny of Zeus and claimed your birthright as the King of the Gods?”

“Forgive me, my lord,” Thanatos said, pushing at Sisyphus’s shoulder. “I forgot to mention that this one does not shut up. Ever.”

Sisyphus glared back at Thanatos and gave him a wolfish smirk before facing the thrones again. “Also, Hades— by your own laws, Thanatos had no right to take me. All of you know that I was not properly buried by my family, nor did I pay Charon for passage across the Styx.”

The Lord of Souls reached into the folds of his himation and flicked an obol with his thumb, the small coin rolling to a stop at the feet of Sisyphus. “There is your fee. We’ll see that it reaches the Boatman.”

Sisyphus swallowed, then composed himself quickly. “You are a fair god, Hades, and are as all-seeing with the souls of the dead as Zeus claims to be all-seeing with the living. Surely you know that I was wrongfully persecuted by him?”

Aidoneus remained silent.

“I was certain that there would be justice in
this
court for a man who saved the daughter of one god from being ravished at the hands of another,” he said. Sisyphus looked pointedly at Persephone. “But clearly, that is not to be. Gentle Queen, do you know why I was originally condemned to Tartarus? What set me on my course? I helped poor Asopus find his precious, missing daughter. When he found her underneath the King of the Gods, crying for help, the lowly river god reacted as any decent father would, and I was blamed. This was when I was young, before I learned the ways of the world— before I learned that there is no justice. Only obeisance and tyranny. If the roles were reversed, if I had helped Zeus save one of
his
daughters from ravishment, I would be lauded as a hero and songs would be sung about me. Instead, I was condemned to the Pit— forced to take my fate into my own hands, which led to some… unfortunate circumstances. It would have been a different world, a better world, Aidoneus, had you drawn the right lot. But I couldn’t imagine a realm such as this in worthier hands. If you are wise enough to decide in my favor, then I’ll let you keep the Underworld when I overthrow Zeus.”

Hades cleared his throat and turned to speak to Persephone. “You remember, my lady, on our journey to Tartarus when I showed you the fate of Salmoneus?”

She stared forward, a smirk threatening the corner of her mouth when she saw Sisyphus flinch. “I remember, my lord. The clatter he made in life, pretending to be my father, throwing thunderbolts and terrorizing his people, now echoes in his head unceasingly as he wanders the Fields of Punishment. He screams almost as loud as Ixion.” She slowly turned to meet Aidoneus’s gaze. “Dear husband, this cannot possibly be his brother, could it?”

The sorcerer king swallowed.

“One and the same, dear wife.” They both turned back to face Sisyphus, their expressions unmoving and pitiless. “His father, a kinslayer, is in Tartarus for throwing his incest-born infant grandson to dogs, and then entreating his daughter, poor Canace, to kill herself. Another brother, Athamas, was driven to madness. His niece, Tyro— the rape of whom is one of the charges levied against this one— made the decision to kill her children before she took her own life. I am tempted to think that their entire bloodline runs with poison, and I will receive their children and children’s children as guests of Tartarus as well. Now, this charlatan stands before us, declaring himself a god. Should we take pity on his madness, my queen, as we shall surely do when we finally receive Athamas? Or should we reunite this one with Salmoneus?”

“Salmoneus was a fool. I claimed his throne for a reason,” Sisyphus said. “I care not that he suffers in Tartarus. It serves him right for trying to imitate Zeus so crudely. Not to mention his many slights against me.”