Quicksilver by Stephanie Spinner Read Free Book Online Page B

“He was trying to kill you.”
    “Yes.”
    “But you survived,” said Molpus. “How?”
    Anticipating a glowing description of my incredible generosity, I wondered if I should stop Perseus before he wept with gratitude, thus saving him from embarrassing himself before his new bride. Zeus says I am capricious, but I am actually very thoughtful.
    “The goddess Athena gave me her shield to use as a mirror,” said Perseus. “Without it I would have failed.”
    “Praise her!” cried Molpus piously. “Praise Athena the Wise, Athena the Warrior, Athena the Victor!”
    “Praise her!” sang the newlyweds.
    Praise
her
?
I thought.
What about
me
?
    I began to make lists in my head.
    What I Used to Think of Perseus

Clever
Clearheaded
Persistent
Nimble
Daring
    What I Think of Him Now

Stupid
Ungrateful
Addled
Disloyal
Smelly
    I toyed with the idea of turning him into a skunk, just to teach him a lesson. But before I could do anything, he said, “As grateful as I am to Athena, I owe even more to Hermes, my half brother,” so I forbore.
    “Your half brother?” Andromeda stared at her new husband as if he had just turned to gold. Few things are more entrancing to mortal women than the possibility that their men are Zeus’ offspring. The faintest whiff of divinity makes them swoon.
    “Yes.” Then—finally!—Perseus returned to the vital subject of what I had done and how wonderful I was. Listening, Molpus nodded and swayed, as if hearing music. Once or twice he interjected, “Praise Hermes! Praise the Song Maker!” This pleased me greatly. Not all poets remember that I invented the lyre and the pipes, though they should, considering how dreary their lives would be without them.
    Perseus went on, lauding me with agreeable frequency. By the time he finished describing the death of Medusa, the appearance of Pegasus, and our cloud-swept journey from Arcadia to Joppa, he and his audience were positively a-tremble with devotion.
    It seemed like the perfect moment to reveal myself, so I did.

SEVENTEEN
    Andromeda moaned as if she were about to faint, then sank to her knees, dropping forward so that her forehead knocked the floor. Perseus exclaimed with such genuine pleasure that my annoyance with him melted away like spring frost. And Molpus fairly shook with awe once he learned who I was. It was all very agreeable.
    After a round of worshipful introductions, I commended Perseus for his actions.
    “You have been heroic,” I said, just to see if he would blush. He did. So did Andromeda, very prettily. Molpus was listening hard to every word, memorizing for future audiences, so I added that Perseus had another, equally daunting task ahead of him. “He must confront Polydectes,” I said.
    Andromeda blinked rapidly. The threat of losing her brand-new, semi-divine husband, after all she had experienced that day, was clearly testing her limits.
    “He will face the task bravely and perform it well,” I assured her. “Won’t you?” I asked Perseus.
    “I will,” he vowed, looking at his bride. Her eyes were brimming.
    “Polydectes will never dream you have the head,” I said, for her benefit as much as his. “You’ll surprise him, and the whole thing will be over before you can say ‘large-animal sacrifice.’ Meanwhile, I’ll take Andromeda to your mother. She’ll be safe there.”
    Leaving the newlyweds to say their farewells, I guided Molpus out of the palace. His sandals were worn, his robes threadbare, and he himself was very thin. Judging by his appearance, the life of a poet was not an easy one.
    When we reached the doorway, I touched his forehead, giving him the gift of perfect memory.
    “To help you sing of this,” I said, opening the door.
    After I picked up the sickle and reclaimed Pegasus, our journey to Seriphos went swiftly. Andromeda and I rode Pegasus, and Perseus followed wearing my sandals. The princess was silent all the way from Joppa to Crete—out of exhaustion or shyness, I could not tell.