{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_22767/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_22767","id":"gutenberg_22767","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/22767","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Novels","Category: Science-Fiction & Fantasy","Science Fiction","Science fiction"],"text":"Produced by Greg Weeks, Geoffrey Kidd, Stephen Blundell\nand the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at\nhttp://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n[Cover Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n                             PAGAN PASSIONS\n\n                         Adult Science Fiction,\n              with the supernatural making complete sense.\n\nThe Gods and Goddesses of Ancient Greece and Rome had returned to\nEarth--with all their awesome powers intact, and Earth was transformed\nalmost overnight. War on any scale was outlawed, along with\nboom-and-bust economic cycles, and prudery--no change was more startling\nthan the face of New York, where, for instance, the Empire State\nBuilding became the Tower of Zeus!\n\nIn this totally altered world, William Forrester was an acolyte of\nAthena, Goddess of Wisdom, and therefore a teacher, in this case of a\ntotally altered history--and Maya Wilson, girl student, evidently had a\ntotally altered way of grading in mind--but what else would a worshipper\nof Venus, Goddess of Love, have in mind?\n\nThis was just the first of the many Trials of Forrester, every bit as\nmighty and perilous as the Labors of Hercules. In love with Gerda Symes,\nlike him a devotee of Athena, like him a frequenter of the great Temple\nof Pallas Athena (formerly known as the 42nd Street Library)--dedicated,\nin short, to the pleasures of the mind--Forrester was under the soft,\ncompelling pressure of soft, compelling devotees of Venus, Bacchus and\nthe like, and in need of all the strength that he and his Goddess, the\nbeautiful and intellectual Athena, could muster to save him from the\nendless temptations of this new Earth.\n\nAnd into this sensuous strife strode Temple Myrmidons--religious cops\nsworn to obey orders without question or hesitation--with a pickup order\nfor William Forrester.\n\nWhere he was taken, what happened to him, the truly fantastic\ndiscoveries he made about himself and the Gods and Goddesses--here are\nthe ingredients that make up this science fiction novel of suspense,\nintrigue, mystery and danger. For science fiction it is, with the\nsupernatural making complete sense, and fun too, despite the Sword of\nDamocles hanging by a thread over Forrester's head!\n\n                         _by Randall Garrett and\n                             Larry M. Harris_\n\n\n\n\n P\n a\n g\n a\n n\n\n  P\n  a\n  s\n  s\n  i\n  o\n  n\n  s\n\n\n\n\n A GALAXY Selected Novel\n For\n BEACON BOOKS\n\n\n\n\n P\n a\n g\n a\n n\n\n  P\n  a\n  s\n  s\n  i\n  o\n  n\n  s\n\n   _By\n   Randall Garrett\n   and\n   Larry M. Harris_\n\n   _Published by\n   Galaxy Publishing Corp.\n   New York 14, New York_\n\n\n\n\n ALL CHARACTERS IN THIS WORK ARE WHOLLY\n FICTITIOUS AND ANY RESEMBLANCE TO PERSONS\n LIVING OR DEAD IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL\n\n Copyright 1959 by Galaxy Publishing Corp.\n\n _Galaxy Novels_ are sturdy, inexpensive editions of choice\n works of imaginative suspense, both original and reprint,\n selected by the editors of _Galaxy Magazine_ for Beacon Books.\n\n THIS IS BEACON BOOK NO. 263\n\n _Cover by Robert Stanley_\n\n Printed in the U.S.A. by\n THE GUINN COMPANY INC.\n New York 14, N. Y.\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's Note\n\nExtensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright\non this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors\nhave been corrected without note.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER ONE\n\n\nThe girl came toward him across the silent room. She was young. She was\nbeautiful. Her red hair curled like a flame round her eager,\nheart-shaped face. Her arms reached for him. Her hands touched him. Her\neyes were alive with the light of pure love. I am yours, the eyes kept\nsaying. Do with me as you will.\n\nForrester watched the eyes with a kind of fascination.\n\nNow the girl's mouth opened, the lips parted slightly, and her husky\nvoice murmured softly: \"Take me. Take me.\"\n\nForrester blinked and stepped back.\n\n\"My God,\" he said. \"This is ridiculous.\"\n\nThe girl pressed herself against him. The sensation was, Forrester\nthought with a kind of awe, undeniably pleasant. He tried to remember\nthe girl's name, and couldn't. She wriggled slightly and her arms went\nup around him. Her hands clasped at the back of his neck and her mouth\nmoved, close to his ear.\n\n\"Please,\" she whispered. \"I want you....\"\n\nForrester felt his head swimming. He opened his mouth but nothing\nwhatever came out. He shut his mouth and tried to think what to do with\nhis hands. They were hanging foolishly at his sides. The girl came even\ncloser, something Forrester would have thought impossible.\n\nTime stopped. Forrester swam in a pink haze of sensations. Only one\nsmall corner of his brain refused to lose itself in the magnificence of\nthe moment. In that corner, Forrester felt feverishly uncomfortable. He\ntried again to remember the girl's name, and failed again. Of course,\nthere was really no reason why he should have known the name. It was,\nafter all, only the first day of class.\n\n\"Please,\" he said valiantly. \"Miss--\"\n\nHe stopped.\n\n\"I'm Maya Wilson,\" the girl said in his ear. \"I'm in your class, Mr.\nForrester. Introductory World History.\" She bit his ear gently.\nForrester jumped.\n\nNone of the textbooks of propriety he had ever seen seemed to cover the\nsituation he found himself in. What did one do when assaulted\n(pleasantly, to be sure, but assault was assault) by a lovely girl who\nhappened to be one of your freshman students? She had called him Mr.\nForrester. That was right and proper, even if it was a little silly. But\nwhat should he call her? Miss Wilson?\n\nThat didn't sound right at all. But, for other reasons, Maya sounded\neven worse.\n\nThe girl said: \"Please,\" and added to the force of the word with another\nlittle wriggle against Forrester. It solved his problems. There was now\nonly one thing to do, and he did it.\n\nHe broke away, found himself on the other side of his desk, looking\nacross at an eager, wet-lipped freshman student.\n\n\"Well,\" he said. There was a lone little bead of sweat trickling down\nhis forehead, across his frontal ridge and down one cheek. He ignored it\nbravely, trying to think what to do next. \"Well,\" he repeated at last,\nin what he hoped was a gentle and fatherly tone. \"Well, well, well,\nwell, well.\" It didn't seem to have any effect. Perhaps, he thought, an\nattempt to put things back on the teacher-student level might have\nbetter results. \"You wanted me to see you?\" he said in a grave,\nscholarly tone. Then, gulping briefly, he amended it in a voice that had\nsuddenly grown an octave: \"You wanted to see me? I mean, you--\"\n\n\"Oh,\" Maya Wilson said. \"Oh, my goodness, _yes_, Mr. Forrester!\"\n\nShe made a sudden sensuous motion that looked to Forrester as if she had\nsuddenly abolished bones. But it wasn't unpleasant. Far from it. Quite\nthe contrary.\n\nForrester licked his lips, which were suddenly very dry. \"Well,\" he\nsaid. \"What about, Miss--uh--Miss Wilson?\"\n\n\"Please call me Maya, Mr. Forrester. And I'll call you--\" There was a\nsecond of hesitation. \"Mr. Forrester,\" Maya said plaintively, \"what is\nyour first name?\"\n\n\"First name?\" Forrester tried to think of his first name. \"You want to\nknow my first name?\"\n\n\"Well,\" Maya said, \"I want to call you something. Because after all--\"\nShe looked as if she were going to leap over the desk.\n\n\"You may call me,\" Forrester said, grasping at his sanity, \"Mr.\nForrester.\"\n\nMaya sidled around the desk quietly. \"Mr. Forrester,\" she said, reaching\nfor him, \"I wanted to talk to you about the Introductory World History\ncourse.\"\n\nForrester shivered as if someone had thrown cold water on his rising\naspirations.\n\n\"Oh,\" he said.\n\n\"That's right,\" Maya whispered. Her mouth was close to his ear again.\nOther parts of her were close to other parts of him once more. Forrester\nfound it difficult to concentrate.\n\n\"I've _got_ to pass the course, Mr. Forrester,\" Maya whispered. \"I've\njust _got_ to.\"\n\nSomehow, Forrester retained just enough control of his faculties to\nremember the standard answer to protestations like that one. \"Well, I'm\nsure you will,\" he said in what he hoped was a calm, hearty, hopeful\nvoice. He was reasonably sure it wasn't any of those, and even surer\nthat it wasn't all three. \"You seem like a--like a fairly intelligent\nyoung lady,\" he finished lamely.\n\n\"Oh, no,\" she said. \"I'm sure I won't be able to remember all those\nold-fashioned dates and things. Never. Never.\" Suddenly she pressed\nherself wildly against him, throwing him slightly off balance. Locked\ntogether, the couple reeled against the desk. Forrester felt it digging\ninto the small of his back. \"I'll do anything to pass the course, Mr.\nForrester!\" she vowed. \"Anything!\"\n\nThe insistent pressure of the desk top robbed the moment of some of its\nnatural splendor. Forrester disengaged himself gently and slid a little\nout of the way. \"Now, now,\" he said, moving rapidly across the room\ntoward a blank wall. \"This sort of thing isn't usually done, Maya. I\nmean, Miss Wilson. I mean--\"\n\n\"But--\"\n\n\"People just don't do such things,\" Forrester said sternly. He thought\nof escaping through the door, but the picture that arose immediately in\nhis mind dissuaded him. He saw Maya pursuing him passionately through\nthe halls while admiring students and faculty stared after them.\n\"Anyhow,\" he added as an afterthought, \"not at the _beginning_ of the\nsemester.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" Maya said. She was advancing on him slowly. \"You mean, I ought to\nsee if I can pass the course on my own first, and _then_--\"\n\n\"Not at all,\" Forrester cut in.\n\nMaya sniffed sadly. \"Oh, you just don't understand,\" she said. \"You're\nan Athenian, aren't you?\"\n\n\"Athenan,\" Forrester said automatically. It was a correction he found\nhimself called upon to make ten or twelve times a week. \"An Athenian is\na resident of Athens, while an Athenan is a worshipper of the Goddess\nAthena. We--\"\n\n\"I understand,\" Maya said. \"I suppose it's like us. We don't like to be\ncalled Aphrodisiacs, you know. We prefer Venerans.\"\n\nShe was leaning across the desk. Forrester, though he supposed some\npeople might be fussy about it, could see no objection whatever to the\nterm Aphrodisiacs. A wild thought dealing with Spheres of Influence\nstrayed into his mind, and he suppressed it firmly.\n\nThe girl was a Veneran. A worshipper of Venus, Goddess of Love.\n\nHer choice of religion, he thought, was unusually appropriate.\n\nAnd as for his....\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER TWO\n\n\nIt was hard to believe that, only an hour or so before, he had been\npeaceful and calm, entirely occupied with his duties in the great Temple\nof Pallas Athena. His mind gave a sudden, panic-stricken leap and he was\nback there again, standing at the rear of the vast room and focusing all\nof his strained attention on it.\n\nThe glowing embers in the golden incense tripods were dying now, but the\nheavy clouds of frankincense, still tingled with the sweet aroma of\nbalsam and clove, hung heavily in the quiet air over the main altar. In\nthe flickering illumination of the gas sconces around the walls, the\nfigures on the great tapestries seemed to move with a subtle life of\ntheir own.\n\nEven though the great brazen gong had sounded for the last time twenty\nminutes before, marking the end of the service, there were still a few\nworshippers in the pews, seated with heads bowed in prayer to the\nGoddess. Forrester considered them carefully: average-looking people, a\nsprinkling of youngsters, and in the far corner a girl who looked just a\nlittle like ...\n\nForrester peered more closely. It wasn't just a slight resemblance; the\ngirl really seemed to be Gerda Symes. Her long blonde hair shone in the\ndimness. Forrester couldn't see her very clearly, but his imagination\nwas working overtime. Her magnificently curved figure, her wonderful\nface, her fiery personality were as much a part of his dreams as the bed\nhe slept on.\n\nIf not for her brother ...\n\nForrester sighed and forced himself to return his attention to his\nduties. His hands remained clasped reverently at his breast. Whatever\nbattle went on in his mind, the remaining few people in the great room\nwould see nothing but what was fitting. At any rate, he told himself, he\nmade rather an imposing sight in his robes, and, with a stirring of\nvanity which he prayed Athena to chasten, he was rather proud of it.\n\nHe was a fairly tall man, just a shade under six feet, but his slight\npaunch made him seem shorter than he was. His face was round and smooth\nand pleasant, and that made him look younger than he was: twenty-one\ninstead of twenty-seven. As befitted an acolyte of the Goddess of\nWisdom, his dark, curly hair was cut rather long. When he bowed to a\ndeparting worshipper, lowering his head in graceful acknowledgment of\ntheir deferential nods, he felt that he made a striking and commanding\npicture.\n\nThough, of course, the worshippers weren't doing him any honor. That bow\nwas not for him, but directed toward the Owl, the symbol of the Goddess\nembroidered on the breast of the white tunic. As an acolyte, after all,\nhe rated just barely above a layman; he had no powers whatever.\n\nAthena knew that, naturally. But somehow it was a little difficult to\nget it through his own doubtless too-thick skull. He'd often dreamed of\npower. Being a priest or a priestess, for instance--now that meant\nsomething. At least people paid attention to you if you were a member of\nthe hierarchy, favored of the Gods. But, Forrester knew, there was no\nchance of that any more. Either you were picked before you were\ntwenty-one, or you weren't picked at all, and that was all there was to\nit. In spite of his looks, Forrester was six years past the limit.\n\nAnd so he'd become an acolyte. Sometimes he wondered how much of that\nhad been an honest desire to serve Athena, and how much a sop to his\nworldly vanity. Certainly a college history instructor had enough to do,\nwithout adding the unpaid religious services of an acolyte to his work.\n\nBut these were thoughts unworthy of his position. They reminded him of\nhis own childhood, when he had dreamed of becoming one of the Lesser\nGods, or even Zeus himself! Zeus had provided the best answer to those\ndreams, Forrester knew. \"Now I am a man,\" Zeus had said, \"and I put away\nchildish things.\"\n\nWell, Forrester considered, it behooved him to put away childish things,\ntoo. A mere vanity, a mere love of spectacle, was unworthy of the\nGoddess he served. And his costume and bearing certainly hadn't got him\nvery far with Gerda.\n\nHe tore his eyes away from her again, and sighed.\n\nBefore he could bring his mind back to Athena, there was an\ninterruption.\n\nAnother white-clad acolyte moved out of the shadows to his right and\ncame softly toward him. \"Forrester?\" he whispered.\n\nForrester turned, recognizing young Bates, a chinless boy of perhaps\ntwenty-two, with the wide, innocent eyes of the born fanatic. But it\ndidn't become a servant of Athena to think ill of her other servants,\nForrester reminded himself. Brushing the possibility of a rude reply\nfrom his mind, Forrester said simply: \"Yes? What is it?\"\n\n\"There's a couple of Temple Myrmidons to see you outside,\" Bates\nwhispered. \"I'll take over your post.\"\n\nForrester responded with no more than a simple nod, as if the occurrence\nwere one that happened every day. But it was not only the thought of\nleaving Gerda that moved him. As he turned and strode to the small door\nthat led to the side room off the main auditorium, he was thinking\nfuriously under his calm exterior.\n\nTemple Myrmidons! What could they want with him? As an acolyte, he was\nat least immune to arrest by the civil police, and even the Temple\nMyrmidons had no right to take him into custody without a warrant from\nthe Pontifex himself.\n\nBut such a warrant was a serious affair. What had he done wrong?\n\nHe tried to think of some cause for an arrest. Blasphemy? Sacrilege? But\nhe found nothing except his interior thoughts. And those, he told\nhimself with a blaze of anger fierce enough to surprise him, were\nnobody's business but his own and Athena's. Authorities either less\npersonal or more temporal had no business dealing with thoughts.\n\nBeyond those, there wasn't a thing. No irreverence toward any of the\nGods, in his private life, his religious functions or his teaching\nposition, at least as far as he could recall. The Gods knew that\nunorthodoxy in an Introductory History course, for instance, was not\nonly unwise but damned difficult.\n\nOf course, he was aware of the real position of the Gods. They weren't\nomnipotent. Their place in the scheme of things was high, but they were\ncertainly not equal with the One who had created the Universe and the\nGods themselves in the first place. Possibly, Forrester had always\nthought, they could be equated with the indefinite \"angels\" of the\nreligions that had been popular during his grandfather's time, sixty\nyears ago, before the return of the Gods. But that was an uncertain\ntheological notion, and Forrester was quite ready to abandon it in the\nface of good argument to the contrary.\n\nWhatever they were, the Gods were certainly the Gods of Earth now.\n\nThe Omnipotent Creator had evidently left it for them to run, while he\nwent about his own mysterious business, far from the understanding or\nthe lives of men. The Gods, omnipotent or not, ran the world and\neverything in it.\n\nAnd if, like Forrester, you knew that omnipotence wasn't their strong\npoint, you just didn't mention it. It would have been impolite to have\ndone so--like talking about sight to a blind man. And \"impolite\" was not\nthe only word that covered the case. The Gods had enough power, as\neveryone knew, to avenge any blasphemies against them. And careless\nmention of limitations on their power would surely be construed as\nblasphemy, true or not.\n\nForrester had never even thought of doing such a thing.\n\nSo what, he thought, did the Temple Myrmidons want with him?\n\nHe came to the anteroom and went in, seeing the two of them at once.\nThey were big, burly chaps with hard faces, and the pistols that were\nholstered at their sides looked completely unnecessary. Forrester took a\ndeep breath and went a step forward. There he stopped, staring.\n\nThe Myrmidons were strangers to him--and now he understood why. Neither\nwas wearing the shoulder-patch Owl of Minerva/Athena. Both proudly\nsported the Thunderbolt of Zeus/Jupiter, the All-Father himself.\n\n_Whatever it is_, Forrester told himself with a sinking sensation, _it's\nserious_.\n\nOne of the Myrmidons looked him up and down in a casual,\nhalf-contemptuous way. \"You're William Forrester?\"\n\n\"That's right,\" Forrester said, knowing that he looked quite calm, and\nwondering, at the same time, whether or not he would live out the next\nfew minutes. The Myrmidons of Zeus/Jupiter didn't come around to other\ntemples on unimportant errands. \"May I help you?\" he went on, feeling\nfoolish.\n\n\"Let's see your ID card, please,\" the Myrmidon said in the same tone as\nbefore. That puzzled Forrester. He doubted whether examination of\ncredentials was a part of the routine preceding arrest--or execution,\nfor that matter. The usual procedure was, and probably always had been,\nto act first and apologize later, if at all.\n\nMaybe whatever he'd done had been so important they couldn't afford to\nmake mistakes.\n\nBut did the Myrmidon really think that an imposter could parade around\nin an acolyte's tunic in the very Temple of Pallas Athena without being\ncaught by one of the Athenan Myrmidons, or some other acolyte or priest?\n\nMaybe a thing like that could happen in one of the other Temples,\nForrester thought. But here at Pallas Athena people took the Goddess's\nattribute of wisdom seriously. What the Dionysians might do, he\nreflected, was impossible to say. Or, for that matter, the Venerans.\n\nBut he produced his identity card and handed it to the Myrmidon. It was\ncompared with a card the Myrmidon dug out of his pouch, and the\nthumbprints on both cards were examined side by side.\n\nAfter a while, Forrester got his card back.\n\nThe Myrmidon said: \"We--\" and began to cough.\n\nHis companion came over to slap him on the back with bone-crushing\nblows. Forrester watched without changing expression.\n\nSome seconds passed.\n\nThen the Myrmidon choked, swallowed, straightened and said, his face\npurple: \"All this incense. Not like what we've got over at the\nAll-Father's Temple. Enough to choke a man to death.\"\n\nForrester murmured politely.\n\n\"Back to business--right?\" He favored Forrester with a rather\nsavage-looking smile, and Forrester allowed his own lips to curve gently\nand respectfully upward.\n\nIt didn't look as if he _were_ going to be killed, after all.\n\n\"Important instructions for you,\" the Myrmidon said. \"From the Pontifex\nMaximus. And not to be repeated to any mortal--understand?\"\n\nForrester nodded.\n\n\"And that means _any_ mortal,\" the Myrmidon said. \"Girl friend, wife--or\ndon't you Athenans go in for that sort of thing? Now, up at the\nAll-Father's Temple, we--\"\n\nHis companion gave him a sharp dig in the ribs.\n\n\"Oh,\" the Myrmidon said. \"Sure. Well. Instructions not to be repeated.\nRight?\"\n\n\"Right,\" Forrester said.\n\nInstructions? From the Pontifex Maximus? _Secret_ instructions?\n\nForrester's mind spun dizzily. This was no arrest. This was something\nvery special and unique. He tried once more to imagine what it was going\nto be, and gave it up in wonder.\n\nThe Myrmidon produced another card from his pouch. There was nothing on\nit but the golden Thunderbolt of the All-Father--but that was quite\nenough.\n\nForrester accepted the card dumbly.\n\n\"You will report to the Tower of Zeus at eighteen hundred hours\nexactly,\" the Myrmidon said. \"Got that?\"\n\n\"You mean today?\" Forrester said, and cursed himself for sounding\nstupid. But the Myrmidon appeared not to have noticed.\n\n\"Today, sure,\" he said. \"Eighteen hundred. Just present this card.\"\n\nHe stepped back, obviously getting ready to leave. Forrester watched him\nfor one long second, and then burst out: \"What do I do after that?\"\n\n\"Just be a good boy. Do what you're told. Ask no questions. It's better\nthat way.\"\n\nForrester thought of six separate replies and settled on a seventh. \"All\nright,\" he said.\n\n\"And remember,\" the Myrmidon said, at the outside door, \"don't mention\nthis to anyone. _Not anyone!_\"\n\nThe door banged shut.\n\nForrester found himself staring at the card he held. He put it away in\nhis case, alongside the ID card. Then, dazed, he went on back to the\nacolyte's sacristy, took off his white tunic and put on his street\nclothes.\n\nWhat did they want with him at the Tower of Zeus? It didn't really sound\nlike an arrest. If it had been that, the Myrmidons themselves would have\ntaken him.\n\nSo what did the Pontifex Maximus want with William Forrester?\n\nHe spent some time considering it, and then, taking a deep breath, he\nforced it out of his mind. He would know at eighteen hundred, and such\nwere the ways of the Gods that he would not know one second before.\n\nSo there was no point in worrying about it, he told himself. He almost\nmade himself believe it.\n\nBut wiping speculation out of his mind left an unwelcome and uneasy\nvacancy. Forrester replaced it with thought of the morning's service in\nthe Temple. Such devotion was probably valuable, anyhow, in a spiritual\nsense. It brought him closer to the Gods....\n\nThe Gods he wanted desperately to be like.\n\nThat, he told himself sharply, was foolishness of the most senseless\nkind.\n\nHe blinked it away.\n\nThe Goddess Athena had appeared herself at the service--sufficient\nreason for thinking of it now. The statuesquely beautiful Goddess with\nher severely swept-back blonde hair and her deep gray eyes was the\nembodiment of the wisdom and strength for which her worshippers\nespecially prayed. Her beauty was almost unworldly, impossible of\nexistence in a world which contained mortals.\n\nShe reminded Forrester, ever so slightly (and, of course, in a reverent\nway), of Gerda Symes.\n\nThere seemed to be a great many forbidden thoughts floating around this\nday. Resolutely, Forrester went back to thinking about the morning's\nservice.\n\nThe Goddess had appeared only long enough to impart her blessing, but\nher calm, beautifully controlled contralto voice had brought a sense of\npeace to everyone in the auditorium. To be doggedly practical, there was\nno way of knowing whether the Goddess's presence was an appearance--in\nperson, or an \"appearance\" by Divine Vision. But that really didn't\nmatter. The effect was always just the same.\n\nForrester went on out the front portals of the Temple of Wisdom and down\nthe long, wide steps onto Fifth Avenue. He paid homage with a passing\nglance to the great Owls flanking the entrance. Symbolic of Athena, they\nhad replaced the stone lions which had formerly stood there.\n\nThe street was busy with hurrying crowds, enlivened here and there by\nTemple Myrmidons--from the All-Father, from Bacchus, from Venus--even\none from Pallas Athena herself, a broad-beamed swaggerer whom Forrester\nknew and disliked. The man came striding up the steps, greeted Forrester\nwith a bare nod, and disappeared at top speed into the Temple.\n\nForrester sighed and glanced south, down toward 34th Street, where the\nhuge Tower of Zeus, a hundred and four stories high, loomed over all the\nother buildings in the city.\n\nAt eighteen hundred he would be in that tower--for what purpose, he had\nno idea.\n\nWell, that was in the future, and he ...\n\nA voice said: \"Well! Hello, Bill!\"\n\nForrester turned, knowing exactly what to expect, and disliking it in\nadvance. The bluff over-heartiness of the voice was matched by the gross\nand hairy figure that confronted him. In some disarray, and managing to\nlook as if he needed simultaneously a bath, a shave, a disinfecting and\na purgative, the figure approached Forrester with a rolling walk that\nwas too flat-footed for anything except an elephant.\n\n\"How's the Owl-boy today?\" said the voice, and the body stuck out a\nflabby, hairy white hand.\n\nForrester winced. \"I'm fine,\" he said evenly. \"And how's the\nwinebibber?\"\n\n\"Good for you,\" the figure said. \"A little wine for your Stomach's sake,\nas good old Bacchus always says. Only we make it a lot, eh?\" He winked\nand nudged Forrester in the ribs.\n\n\"Sure, sure,\" Forrester said. He wished desperately that he could take\nthe gross fool and tear him into tastefully arranged pieces. But there\nwas always Gerda. And since this particular idiot happened to be her\nyounger brother, Ed Symes, anything in the nature of violence was\nunthinkable.\n\nGerda's opinion of her brother was touching, reverent, and--Forrester\nthought savagely--not in the least borne out by any discoverable facts.\n\nAnd a worshipper of Bacchus! Not that Forrester had anything against the\norgiastic rites indulged in by the Dionysians, the Panites, the\nApollones or even the worst and wildest of them all, the Venerans. If\nthat was how the Gods wanted to be worshipped, then that was how they\nshould be worshipped.\n\nAnd, as a matter of fact, it sounded like fun--if, Forrester considered,\nentirely too public for his taste.\n\nIf he preferred the quieter rites of Athena, or of Juno, Diana or\nCeres--and even Ceresians became a little wild during the spring\nfertility rites, especially in the country, where the farmers depended\non her for successful crops--well, that was no more than a personal\npreference.\n\nBut the idea of Ed Symes involved in a Bacchic orgy was just a little\ntoo much for the normal mind, or the normal stomach.\n\n\"Hey,\" Ed said suddenly. \"Where's Gerda? Still in the Temple?\"\n\n\"I didn't see her,\" Forrester said. There _had_ been a woman who'd\nlooked like her. But that hadn't been Gerda. _She'd_ have waited for him\nhere.\n\nAnd--\n\n\"Funny,\" Ed said.\n\n\"Why?\" Forrester said. \"I didn't see her. I don't think she attended the\nservice this morning, that's all.\"\n\nHe wanted very badly to hit Symes. Just once. But he knew he couldn't.\n\nFirst of all, there was Gerda. And then, as an acolyte, he was\nproscribed by law from brawling. No one would hit an acolyte; and if the\nacolyte were built like Forrester, striking another man might be the\nequivalent of murder. One good blow from Forrester's fist might break\nthe average man's jaw.\n\nThat was, he discovered, a surprisingly pleasant thought. But he made\nhimself keep still as the fat fool went on.\n\n\"Funny she didn't attend,\" Symes said. \"But maybe she's gotten wise to\nherself. There was a celebration up at the Temple of Pan in Central\nPark, starting at midnight, and going on through the morning. Spring\nRites. Maybe she went there.\"\n\n\"I doubt it,\" Forrester said instantly. \"That's hardly her type of\nworship.\"\n\n\"Isn't it?\" Symes said.\n\n\"It doesn't fit her. That kind of--\"\n\n\"I know. Gerda's like you. A little stuffy.\"\n\n\"It's not being stuffy,\" Forrester started to explain. \"It's--\"\n\n\"Sure,\" Symes said. \"Only she's not as much of a prude as you are. I\ncouldn't stand her if she were.\"\n\n\"On the other hand, she's not a--\"\n\n\"Not an Owl-boy of Owl-boys like you.\"\n\n\"Not a drunken blockhead,\" Forrester finished triumphantly. \"At least\nshe's got a decent respect for wisdom and learning.\"\n\nSymes stepped back, a movement for which Forrester felt grateful. No\nmatter how far away Ed Symes was, he was still too close.\n\n\"Who you calling a blockhead, buster?\" Symes said. His eyes narrowed to\npiggish little slits.\n\nForrester took a deep breath and reminded himself not to hit the other\nman. \"You,\" he said, almost mildly. \"If brains were radium, you couldn't\nmake a flicker on a scintillation counter.\"\n\nIt was just a little doubtful that Symes understood the insult. But he\nobviously knew it had been one. His face changed color to a kind of\ngrayish purple, and his hands clenched slowly at his sides. Forrester\nstood watching him quietly.\n\nSymes made a sound like _Rrr_ and took a breath. \"If you weren't an\nacolyte, I'd take a poke at you just to see you bounce.\"\n\n\"Sure you would,\" Forrester agreed politely.\n\nSymes went _Rrr_ again and there was a longer silence. Then he said:\n\"Not that I'd hit you anyhow, buster. It'd go against my grain. Not the\nacolyte business--if you didn't look so much like Bacchus, I'd take the\nchance.\"\n\nForrester's jaw ached. In a second he realized why; he was clenching his\nteeth tightly. Perhaps it was true that he did look a little like\nBacchus, but not enough for Ed Symes to kid about it.\n\nSymes grinned at him. Symes undoubtedly thought the grin gave him a\npleasant and carefree expression. It didn't. \"Suppose I go have a look\nfor Gerda myself,\" he said casually, heading up the stairs toward the\ntemple entrance. \"After all, you're so busy looking at books, you might\nhave missed her.\"\n\nAnd what, Forrester asked himself, was the answer to that--except a\npunch in the mouth?\n\nIt really didn't matter, anyhow. Symes was on his way into the temple,\nand Forrester could just ignore him.\n\nBut, damn it, why did he let the young idiot get his goat that way?\nDidn't he have enough self-control just to ignore Symes and his oafish\ninsults?\n\nForrester supposed sadly that he didn't. Oh, well, it just made another\nquality he had to pray to Athena for.\n\nThen he glanced at his wristwatch and stopped thinking about Symes\nentirely.\n\nIt was twelve-forty-five. He had to be at work at thirteen hundred.\n\nStill angry, underneath the sudden need for speed, he turned and\nsprinted toward the subway.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"And thus,\" Forrester said tiredly, \"having attempted to make himself\nthe equal of the Gods, Man was given a punishment befitting such\narrogance.\" He paused and took a breath, surveying the twenty-odd\nstudents in the classroom (and some, he told himself wryly, _very_ odd)\nwith a sort of benign boredom.\n\nHistory I, Introductory Survey of World History, was a simple enough\ncourse to teach, but its very simplicity was its undoing, Forrester\nthought. The deadly dullness of the day-after-day routine was enough to\nwear out the strongest soul.\n\nFreshmen, too, seemed to get stupider every year. Certainly, when _he'd_\nbeen seventeen, he'd been different altogether. Studious, earnest,\nquestioning ...\n\nThen he stopped himself and grinned. He'd probably seemed even worse to\nhis own instructors.\n\nWhere had he been? Slowly, he picked up the thread. There was a young\nblonde girl watching him eagerly from a front seat. What was her name?\nForrester tried to recall it and couldn't. Well, this was only the first\nday of term. He'd get to know them all soon enough--well enough,\nanyhow, to dislike most of them.\n\nBut the eager expression on the girl's face unnerved him a little. The\nrest of the class wasn't paying anything like such strict attention. As\na matter of fact, Forrester suspected two young boys in the back of\nbeing in a trance.\n\nWell, he could stop that. But ...\n\nShe was really quite attractive, Forrester told himself. Of course, she\nwas nothing but a fresh, pretty, eager seventeen-year-old, with a figure\nthat ...\n\nShe was, Forrester reminded himself sternly, a student.\n\nAnd he was supposed to be an instructor.\n\nHe cleared his throat. \"Man went hog-wild with his new-found freedom\nfrom divine guidance,\" he said. \"Woman did, too, as a matter of fact.\"\n\nNow what unholy devil had made him say that? It wasn't a part of the\nnormal lecture for first day of the new term. It was--well, it was\njust a little risque for students. Some of their parents might complain,\nand ...\n\nBut the girl in the front row was smiling appreciatively. _I wonder what\nshe's doing in an Introductory course_, Forrester thought, leaping with\nno evidence at all to the conclusion that the girl's mind was much too\nfine and educated to be subjected to the general run of classes.\n_Private tutoring_ ... he began, and then cut himself off sharply, found\nhis place in the lecture again and went on:\n\n\"When the Gods decided to sit back and observe for a few thousand years,\nthey allowed Man to go his merry way, just to teach him a lesson.\"\n\nThe boys in the back of the room were definitely in a trance.\n\nForrester sighed. \"And the inevitable happened,\" he said. \"From the\neighth century B.C., Old Style, until the year 1971 A.D., Old Style,\nMan's lot went from bad to worse. Without the Gods to guide him he bred\nbigger and bigger wars and greater and greater empires--beginning with\nthe conquests of the mad Alexander of Macedonia and culminating in the\nopposing Soviet and American Spheres of Influence during the last\ncentury.\"\n\nSpheres of Influence....\n\nForrester's gaze fell on the blonde girl again. She certainly had a\nwell-developed figure. And she did seem so eager and attentive. He\nsmiled at her tentatively. She smiled back.\n\n\"Urg ...\" he said aloud.\n\nThe class didn't seem to notice. That, Forrester told himself sourly,\nwas probably because they weren't listening.\n\nHe swallowed, wrenched his gaze from the girl, and said: \"The\nSoviet-American standoff--for that is what it was--would most probably\nhave resulted in the destruction of the human race.\" It had no effect on\nthe class. The destruction of the human race interested nobody.\n\"However,\" Forrester said gamely, \"this form of insanity was too much\nfor the Gods to allow. They therefore--\"\n\nThe bell rang, signifying the end of the period. Forrester didn't know\nwhether to feel relieved or annoyed.\n\n\"All right,\" he said. \"That's all for today. Your first assignment will\nbe to read and carefully study Chapters One and Two of the textbook.\"\n\nSilence gave way to a clatter of noise as the students began to file\nout. Forrester saw the front-row blonde rise slowly and gracefully. Any\ndoubts he might have entertained (that is, he told himself wryly, any\n_entertaining_ doubts) about her figure were resolved magnificently. He\nfelt a little sweat on the palm of his hands, told himself that he was\nbeing silly, and then answered himself that the hell he was.\n\nThe blonde gave him a slow, sweet smile. The smile promised a good deal\nmore than Forrester thought likely of fulfillment.\n\nHe smiled back.\n\nIt would have been impolite, he assured himself, not to have done so.\n\nThe girl left the room, and a remaining crowd of students hurried out\nafter her. The crowd included two blinking boys, awakened by the bell\nfrom what had certainly been a trance. Forrester made a mental note to\ninquire after their records and to speak with the boys himself when he\ngot the chance.\n\nNo sense in disturbing a whole class to discipline them.\n\nHe stacked his papers carefully, taking a good long time about it in\norder to relax himself and let his palms dry. His mind drifted back to\nthe blonde, and he reined it in with an effort and let it go exploring\nagain on safer ground. The class itself ... actually, he thought, he\nrather liked teaching. In spite of the petty irritations that came from\ndriving necessary knowledge into the heads of stubbornly unwilling\nstudents, it was a satisfying and important job. And, of course, it was\nan honor to hold the position he did. Ever since it had been revealed\nthat the goddess Columbia was another manifestation of Pallas Athena\nherself, the University had grown tremendously in stature.\n\nAnd after all ...\n\nWhistling faintly behind his teeth, Forrester zipped up his filled\nbriefcase and went out into the hall. He ignored the masses of students\nswirling back and forth in the corridors, and, finding a stairway, went\nup to his second-floor office.\n\nHe fumbled for his key, found it, and opened the ground-glass door.\n\nThen, stepping in, he came to a full stop.\n\nThe girl had been waiting for him--Maya Wilson.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAnd now here she was, talking about the Goddess of Love. Forrester\ngulped.\n\n\"Anyhow,\" he said at random, \"I'm an Athenan.\" He remembered that he had\nalready said that. Did it matter? \"But what does all this have to do\nwith your passing, or not passing, the course?\" he went on.\n\n\"Oh,\" Maya said. \"Well, I prayed to Aphrodite for help in passing the\ncourse. And the Temple Priestess told me I'd have to make a sacrifice to\nthe Goddess. In a way.\"\n\n\"A sacrifice?\" Forrester gulped. \"You mean--\"\n\n\"Not the First Sacrifice,\" she laughed. \"That was done with solemn\nceremonies when I was seventeen.\"\n\n\"Now, wait a minute--\"\n\n\"Please,\" Maya said. \"Won't you listen to me?\"\n\nForrester looked at her limpid blue eyes and her lovely face. \"Sure.\nSorry.\"\n\n\"Well, then, it's like this. If a person loves a subject, it's that much\neasier to understand it. And the Goddess has promised me that if I love\nthe instructor, I'll love the subject. It's like sympathetic\nmagic--see?\"\n\nHer explanation was so brisk and simple that Forrester recoiled. \"Hold\non,\" he said. \"Just hold your horses. Do you mean you're in love with\nme?\"\n\nMaya smiled. \"I think so,\" she said, and very suddenly she was on\nForrester's side of the desk, pressing up against him. Her hand caressed\nthe back of his neck and her fingers tangled in his hair. \"Kiss me and\nlet's find out.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER THREE\n\n\nResistance, such as it was, crumbled in a hurry. Forrester complied with\nfervor. An endless time went by, punctuated only by short breaths\nbetween the kisses. Forrester's hands began to rove.\n\nSo did Maya's.\n\nShe began to unbutton his shirt.\n\nNot to be outdone, his own fingers got busy with buttons, zippers, hooks\nand the other temporary fastenings with which female clothing is\nencumbered. He was swimming in a red sea of passion and the Egyptians\nwere nowhere in sight. Absently, he got an arm out of his shirt, and at\nthe same time somehow managed to undo the final button of a series.\nMaya's blouse fell free.\n\nForrester felt like stout Cortez.\n\nHe pulled the girl to him, feeling the surprisingly cool touch of her\nflesh against his. Under the blouse and skirt, he was discovering, she\nwore very little, and that was just as well; nagging thoughts about the\ndoubtful privacy of his office were beginning to assail him.\n\nNevertheless, he persevered. Maya was as eager as he had ever dreamed of\nbeing, and their embrace reached a height of passion and began to climb\nand climb to hitherto unknown peaks of sensation.\n\nForrester was busy for some time discovering things he had never known,\nand a lot of things he had known before, but never so well. Every motion\nwas met with a reaction that was more than equal and opposite, every\nsensation unlocked the doors to whole galleries of new sensations.\nHigher and higher went his emotional thermometer, higher and higher and\nhigher and higher and ...\n\nVery suddenly, he discovered how to breathe again, and it was over.\n\n\"My goodness,\" Maya said after a brief resting spell. \"I suppose I\n_must_ love you for sure. My _good_ness!\"\n\n\"Sure,\" Forrester said. \"And now--if you'll pardon the indelicacy and\nhand me my pants--\" he found he was still puffing a little and paused\nuntil he could go on--\"I've got an appointment I simply can't afford to\nmiss.\"\n\n\"Oh, all right,\" Maya said. \"But Mr. Forrester--\"\n\nHe rolled over and looked at her while he began dressing. \"I suppose it\nwould be all right if you called me Bill,\" he said carefully.\n\n\"In class, too?\"\n\nForrester shook his head. \"No,\" he said. \"Not in class.\"\n\n\"But what I wanted to ask--\"\n\n\"Yes?\" Forrester said.\n\n\"Mr.--Bill--do you think I'll pass Introductory World History?\"\n\nForrester considered that question. There was certainly a wide variety\nof answers he could construct. When he had finished buttoning his shirt\nhe had decided on one.\n\n\"I don't see why not,\" he said, \"so long as you complete your\nassignments regularly.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNearly two hours later, feeling somewhat light-headed but otherwise in\nperfectly magnificent fettle, Forrester found himself on the downtown\nsubway. He'd showered and changed and he was whistling a gay little tune\nas he checked his watch.\n\nThe time was five minutes to five. He had just over an hour before he\nwas due to appear at the Tower of Zeus All-Father, but it was better to\nbe a few minutes early than even a single second late.\n\nThe train ride was a little bumpy, but Forrester didn't really mind. He\nwas pretty well past being irritated by anything. Nevertheless, he was\nspeculating with just a faint unease as to what the Pontifex Maximus\nwanted with him. What was in store for him at the strange appointment?\n\nAnd why all the secrecy?\n\nHis brooding was interrupted right away. At 100th Street, a bearded old\nman got on and sat down next to him. He nudged Forrester in the ribs and\nmuttered: \"Look at that now, Daddy-O. Look at that.\"\n\n\"What?\" Forrester said, constrained into conversation.\n\n\"Damn subways, that's what,\" the old man said. \"Worse every year.\nBumpier and slower and worse. Just look around, Daddy-O. Look around.\"\n\n\"I wouldn't quite say--\" Forrester began, but the old man gave him\nanother dig in the ribs and cut in:\n\n\"Wouldn't say, wouldn't say,\" he muttered. \"Listen, man, there ain't\nbeen an improvement in years. You realize that?\"\n\n\"Well, I--\"\n\n\"No progress, man, not in more than half a century. Listen, when I was a\nteen king--War Councilor for the Boppers, I was, and let me tell you\nthat was big time, Daddy-O--when I was a teen king, we were going\nplaces. Going places for real. Mars. Venus. We were going to have\nspaceships, man.\"\n\nForrester smiled spasmically at the old man. \"I'm sure you--\"\n\n\"But what happened?\" the old man interrupted. \"Tell you what happened,\nman. We never got to Mars and Venus. Mars and Venus came to us instead.\nRight along with Jupiter and Neptune and Pluto and all the rest of the\nGods. And we had no progress ever since that day, Daddy-O, no progress\nat all and you can believe it.\"\n\nHe dug Forrester in the ribs one final time and sat back with melancholy\nsatisfaction.\n\n\"Well,\" Forrester said mildly, \"what good is progress?\" The old man, he\nassured himself after a moment's reflection, wasn't actually saying\nanything blasphemous. After all, the Gods didn't expect their\nworshippers to be mindless slaves.\n\nSomehow the notion made him feel happier. He'd have hated reporting the\nold man. Something in the outdated slang made him feel--almost\npatriotic. The old man was a part of America, a respected and important\npart.\n\nThe respected part of America made itself felt again in Forrester's\nribs. \"Progress?\" the old man said. \"What good's progress? Listen,\nDaddy-O--how can the human race get anywhere without progress? Answer me\nthat, will you, man? Because it's for-sure real we're not going any\nplace now. No place at all.\"\n\n\"Now look,\" Forrester said patiently, \"progress is an outmoded idea.\nWe've got to be in step with the times. We've got to ask ourselves what\nprogress ever did for us. How did we stand when the Gods returned?\" For\na brief flash he was back in his history class, but he went on: \"Half\nthe world ready to fight the other half with weapons that would have\nwiped both halves out. You ought to be grateful the Gods returned when\nthey did.\"\n\n\"But we're getting into Nowheresville, man,\" the old man complained.\n\"We're not in orbit. We can't progress.\"\n\nForrester sighed. Why was he talking to the old man, anyway? The answer\ncame to him as soon as he'd asked the question. He wanted to keep his\nmind off the Tower of Zeus and his own unknown fate there. It was an\nunpleasant answer; Forrester blanked it out.\n\n\"Now, friend,\" he said. \"What have you got? Just what mankind's been\nlooking for all these centuries. Security. You've got security. Nobody's\ngoing to blow you to pieces tomorrow. Your job isn't going to vanish\novernight. I mean, if you--\"\n\n\"I got a job,\" the old man said.\n\n\"Really?\" Forrester said politely. \"What is it?\"\n\n\"Retired. And it's a tough job, too.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" Forrester said.\n\n\"And anyhow,\" the old man went on, \"what's all this got to do with\nprogress?\"\n\nForrester thought. \"Well--\"\n\n\"Well, nothing,\" the old man said. \"Listen to me, man. I say nothing\nagainst the Gods--right? Nothing at all. Wouldn't want to do anything\nlike that. But at the same time, it looks to me like we ought to be able\nto--reap the fruits of our labors. I read that some place.\"\n\n\"But--\"\n\n\"In the three thousand years the Gods were gone, we weren't a total\nloss, man. Not anything like. We discovered a lot. About nature and\nscience and like that. We invented science all by ourselves. So how come\nthe Gods don't let us use it?\" The old man dug his elbow once more into\nForrester's rib. \"How come?\"\n\n\"The Gods haven't taken anything away from us,\" Forrester said.\n\n\"Haven't they?\" the old man demanded. \"How about television? Want to\nanswer that one, Daddy-O? Years ago, everybody had a television set.\nColor and 3-D. The most. The end. Now there's no television at all. Why\nnot? What happened to it?\"\n\n\"Well,\" Forrester said reasonably, \"what good is television?\"\n\n\"What good?\" Once more Forrester's rib felt the old man's elbow. \"Let me\ntell you--\"\n\n\"No,\" Forrester interrupted, suddenly irritated with the whole\nconversation. \"Let _me_ tell _you_. The trouble with your generation was\nthat all they wanted to do was sit around on their _glutei maximi_ and\nbe entertained. Like a bunch of hypnotized geese. They didn't want to\ndo anything for themselves. Half of them couldn't even read. And now\nyou want to tell me that--\"\n\n\"Hold it, Daddy-O,\" the old man said. \"You're telling me that the Gods\ntook away television just because we were a bunch of hypnotized geese.\nThat it?\"\n\n\"That's it.\"\n\n\"Okay,\" the old man said. \"So tell me--what are we now? With the Gods\nand everything. I mean, man, really--what are we?\"\n\n\"Now?\" Forrester said. \"Now you're retired. You're a bunch of retired\nhypnotized geese.\"\n\nThe doors of the train slid creakily open and Forrester got out onto the\n34th Street platform, walking angrily toward a stairway without looking\nback.\n\nTrue enough, the old man hadn't committed blasphemy, but it had\ncertainly come close enough there at the end. And if pokes with the\nelbow weren't declared blasphemous, or at least equivalent to malicious\nmischief, he thought, there was no justice in the world.\n\nThe real trouble was that the man had had no respect for the Gods. There\nwere a good many of the older generation like him. They seemed to feel\nthat humanity had been better off when the Gods had been away. Forrester\ncouldn't see it, and felt vaguely uncomfortable in the presence of\nsomeone who believed it. After all, mankind _had_ been on the verge of\nmass suicide, and the Gods had mercifully come back from their\nself-imposed exile and taken care of things. The exile had been designed\nto prove, in the drastic laboratory of three thousand years, that Man by\nhimself headed like a lemming for self-destruction. And, for Forrester,\nthe point had been proven.\n\nYet now that the human race had been saved, there were still men who\ngriped about the Gods and their return. Forrester silently wished the\npack of them in Hades, enjoying the company of Pluto and his ilk.\n\nAt the corner of 34th and Broadway, as he came out of the subway\ntunnels, he bought a copy of the _News_ and glanced quickly through the\nheadlines. But, as always, there was little sensational news. Mars was\ndoing pretty well for himself, of course: there were two wars going on\nin Asia, one in Europe and three revolutions in South and Central\nAmerica. That last did seem to be overdoing things a bit, but not\nseriously. Forrester shrugged, wondering vaguely when the United States\nwas going to have its turn.\n\nBut he couldn't concentrate on the paper and, after a little while, he\ngot rid of it and took a look at his watch.\n\nTwenty to six. Forrester decided he could use a drink to brace himself\nand steady his nerves.\n\nJust one.\n\nOn Sixth Avenue, near 34th Street, there was a bar called, for some\nobscure reason, the _Boat House_. Forrester headed for it, went inside\nand leaned against the bar. The bartender, a tall man with crew-cut\nreddish hair, raised his eyebrows in a questioning fashion.\n\n\"What'll it be, friend?\"\n\n\"Vodka and ginger ale,\" Forrester said. \"A double.\"\n\nIt was still, he told himself uneasily, just one drink. And that was all\nhe was going to have.\n\nThe bartender brought it and Forrester sipped at it, watching his\nreflection in the mirror and wishing he felt easier in his mind about\nthe whole Tower of Zeus affair. Then, very suddenly, he noticed that the\nman next to him was looking at him oddly. Forrester didn't like the look\nor, for that matter, the man himself, a raw-boned giant with deep-set\neyes and a shock of dead-black hair, but so long as nobody bothered him,\nForrester wasn't going to start anything.\n\nUnfortunately, somebody bothered him. The tall man leaned over and said\nloudly: \"What's the matter with you, bud? An infidel or something?\"\n\nForrester hesitated. The accusation that he didn't believe in the\npractices ordained by the Gods themselves was an irritating one. But he\ncould see the other side of the question, too. The tall man was\nundoubtedly a Dionysian; and, more than that, a member of a small sect\ninside the general _corpus_ of Bacchus/Dionysus worshippers. He held\nthat it was wrong to distill grape or grain products \"too far,\" until\nthere was nothing left but the alcohol.\n\nThat meant disapproval of gin and vodka on the grounds that, unlike\nwhiskey or brandy, they'd had the \"life\" distilled out of them.\n\nForrester, however, was not really fond of brandy and whiskey. He\ndecided to explain this to the tall man, but at the same time he began\nto develop the sinking feeling that it wasn't going to do any good.\n\nOh, well, there was still room for patience. \"Don't fire,\" as Mars had\nsaid somewhere, \"until you see the whites of their eyes.\"\n\n\"No, I'm no infidel,\" Forrester said politely. \"You see, I'm--\"\n\n\"_No infidel?_\" the tall man roared. \"Then I tell you what you do. You\npour that slop out and drink a proper drink.\" He made a grab for\nForrester's glass.\n\nForrester jerked it back, sloshing it a little in the process--and a few\ndrops splattered on the other's hand.\n\n\"Now look here,\" Forrester said in a reasonable tone of voice. \"I--\"\n\n\"You spilling that stuff on me? What the blazes are you doing that for?\nI got a good mind to--\"\n\nAnother man stepped into the altercation. This was a square-built,\nbullet-headed man with an air that was both truculent and eager. \"What's\nthe matter, Herb?\" he asked the tall man. \"This guy giving you trouble\nor something?\" He favored Forrester with a fierce scowl. Forrester\nsmiled pleasantly back, a little unsure as to how to proceed.\n\n\"This guy?\" Herb said. \"_Trouble?_ Sam, he's an _infidel_!\"\n\nForrester said: \"I--\"\n\n\"He drinks vodka,\" Herb said. \"And I guess he drinks gin too.\"\n\n\"Great Bacchus,\" Sam said in a tone of wonder. \"You run into them\neverywhere these days. Can't get away from the sons of--\"\n\n\"Now--\" Forrester started.\n\n\"And not only that,\" Herb said, \"but he spills the stuff on me. Just\nbecause I ask him to have a regular drink like a man.\"\n\n\"_Spills_ it on you?\" Sam said.\n\nHerb said: \"Look,\" and extended his arm. On the sleeve of his jacket a\nfew spots were slowly drying.\n\n\"Well, that's too much,\" Sam said heavily. \"Just too damn much.\" He\nscowled at Forrester again. \"You know, buddy, somebody ought to teach\nguys like you a lesson.\"\n\nForrester took a swallow of his drink and set the glass down\nunhurriedly. If either Herb or Sam attacked him, he knew his oath would\npermit his fighting back. And after the day he'd had, he rather looked\nforward to the chance. But he had to do his part to hold off an actual\nfight. \"Now look here, friend--\"\n\n\"Friend?\" Sam said. \"Don't call me your friend, buddy. I make no friends\nwith infidels.\"\n\nAnd, at that point, Forrester realized that he wasn't going to have a\nfight with Herb or Sam. He was going to have a fight with Herb _and_\nSam--and with the third gentleman, a shaggy, beefy man who needed a\nshave, who stepped up behind them and asked: \"Trouble?\" in a voice that\nindicated that trouble was exactly what he was looking for.\n\n\"Maybe it is trouble, at that,\" Herb said tightly, without turning\naround. \"This infidel here's been committing blasphemy.\"\n\nThree against one wasn't as happy a thought as an even fight had been,\nbut it was too late to back out now. \"That's a lie!\" Forrester snapped.\n\n\"Call me a liar?\" Sam roared. He stepped forward and swung a hamlike\nfist at Forrester's head.\n\nForrester ducked. The heavy fist swished by his ear harmlessly, and he\nfelt a strange new mixture of elation and fright. He grabbed his\nvodka-and-ginger from the bar and swung it in a single sweeping arc\nbefore him. Liquid rained on the faces of the three men.\n\nSam was still a little off balance. Forrester slammed the edge of his\nright hand into his side, and Sam stumbled to the floor. In the same\nmotion, Forrester let fly with the now-empty glass. The shaggy man stood\ndirectly in his path. The glass conked him on the forehead and bounced\nto the floor, where it shattered unnoticed. The shaggy man blinked and\nForrester, moving forward, discovered that he had no time to follow\nmatters up in that direction.\n\nHerb was snarling inarticulately, wiping vodka-and-ginger from his eyes.\nHe blocked Forrester's advance toward the shaggy man. Forrester smiled\ngently and put a hard fist into Herb's solar plexus. The tall man\ndoubled up in completely silent agony.\n\nForrester took a breath and started forward again. The shaggy man was\nshaking his head, trying to clear it.\n\nThen Forrester's head became unclear. Something had banged against his\nright temple and the room was suddenly filled with pain and small, hard\nstars. Sam, Forrester discovered, had managed to get to his feet. The\nsomething had been a small brass ashtray that Sam had thrown at him.\n\nSomehow, he stayed on his feet. The stars were still swirling around\nhim, but he began to be able to see through them, and peered at the\nfigure of the shaggy man, coming at him again. He let his knees bend a\nlittle, as if he were going to pass out. The shaggy man seemed to gain\nconfidence from this, and stepped in carefully to kick Forrester in the\nstomach.\n\nForrester stepped back, grabbed the upcoming foot, and stood straight,\nlifting the foot and levering it into the air.\n\nThe shaggy man, surprise written all over his shaveless face, went over\nbackward with great abruptness. His head hit the floor with an audible\nand satisfying _whack_, and then his limbs settled and he remained\nthere, sprawled out and very quiet.\n\nForrester, meanwhile, was whirling to meet Sam, who was coming in like a\nbear, his arms outspread and a glaze of hatred in his eyes. Forrester,\nexpressionless, ducked under the man's flailing arms and slammed a fist\ninto his midsection. It was a harder midsection than he'd expected;\nunlike Herb, Sam had good muscles, and hitting them was like hitting\nthick rubber. The blow didn't put Sam down. It only made him gasp once.\n\nThat was enough. Forrester doubled his right fist and let Sam have one\nmore blow, this one into the face. Sam's mouth opened as his eyes\nclosed. His left arm pawed the air aimlessly for a tenth of a second.\n\nThen he dropped like an empty overcoat.\n\nThere was a second of absolute silence. Then Forrester heard a noise\nbehind him and whirled.\n\nBut it was only Herb, doubled up on the floor and very quietly retching.\n\nCatching his breath, Forrester looked around him. The fight had\nattracted a lot of attention from the other customers in the bar, but\nnone of them seemed to want to prolong it by joining in.\n\nThey were all trying to look as if they were minding their own business,\nwhile the bartender ...\n\nForrester stared. The bartender was at the other end of the bar, far\naway from the scene of action.\n\nHe was, as Forrester saw him, just hanging up the telephone.\n\nForrester put a bill on the bar, turned and walked out into the street.\nHe had absolutely no desire to get mixed up with the secular police.\n\nAfter all, he had an appointment to keep. And now--after a quiet drink\nthat had turned into a three-against-one battle royal--he had to go and\nkeep it.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER FOUR\n\n\nIt wasn't a very long walk from the _Boat House_ to the Tower of Zeus,\nbut it was long enough. By the time Forrester got to the Tower, he was\nfeeling a lot worse than he'd felt when he left the bar. Being perfectly\nfrank with himself, he admitted that he felt terrible.\n\nThe blow from the brass ashtray wasn't a sharp pain any longer. It had\ndeveloped into a nice, dependable ache that had spread all over the side\nof his head. And his right eye was beginning to swell, probably from the\nsame cause. He'd skinned the knuckles of his right hand, too, probably\non Sam's face, and they set up their own smarting.\n\nTrue, it wasn't a bad list of injuries to result from the odds he'd\nfaced. But that wasn't the point.\n\nYou just didn't go up to the Tower of Zeus looking like a back-street\nbrawler.\n\nHowever, there was no help for it. He straightened his jacket and went\nin through the Fifth Avenue entrance of the Tower, heading for the first\nbank of elevators.\n\nZeus All-Father would know everything about his fight, and would know\nthat it hadn't been his fault. (Hadn't it, though? Forrester asked\nhimself. He remembered the joy he'd felt at the prospect of battle. How\nfar would it count against him?) Zeus All-Father, through his priests,\nwould make what allowances should be made.\n\nForrester hoped that the Godhead was feeling in a kind and merciful\nmood.\n\nHe reached the bank of elevators, and the burly Myrmidon who stood\nthere, wearing the lightning-bolt shoulder patch of the All-Father.\nAhead of him was a chattering crowd of five: mother, father, two\ndaughters and a small son, all obviously out-of-towners. The Tower of\nZeus was always a big tourist attraction. The Myrmidon directed them to\nthe stairway that led to the second-floor Arcade, the main attraction\nfor most visitors to the Tower. The Temple of Sacrifice was located up\nthere, while the ground floor was filled with glass-fronted offices of\nthe secretaries of various dignitaries.\n\nChattering gaily, and looking around them in a kind of happy awe, the\nfamily group moved off and Forrester stepped up to the Myrmidon, who\nsaid: \"Stairway's right over there to your--\"\n\n\"No,\" Forrester said. He reached into his jacket pocket, feeling his\nmuscles ache as he did so. He drew out his wallet and managed to extract\nthe simple card he'd been given in the Temple of Pallas Athena, the card\nwhich carried nothing but a lightning bolt.\n\nHe handed it to the Myrmidon, who looked down at it, frowned, and then\nlooked up.\n\n\"What's this for?\" he said.\n\n\"Well--\" Forrester began, and then caught himself. He'd been told not to\nexplain about the card to any mortal. And the Myrmidon was certainly\njust as mortal as Forrester himself, or any other hireling of the Gods.\nTrue, there was always the consideration that he might be Zeus\nAll-Father himself, in disguise.\n\nBut that was a consideration that bore no weight at present. Even if the\nMyrmidon turned out to be a God in disguise, Forrester wouldn't be\nexcused if he said anything about the card. You had to go by\nappearances; that was the principle on which everything rested, and a\nvery good principle too.\n\nNot that there weren't a few unprincipled young men around who pretended\nto be Gods in disguise in order to seduce various local and ingenuous\nmaidens. But Zeus always found out about them. And ...\n\nForrester recognized that his thoughts were beginning to veer once more.\nWithout changing his expression, he said evenly: \"You're supposed to\nknow,\" and waited.\n\nThe Myrmidon studied him for what seemed about three days. At last he\nnodded, looked down at the card intently, raised his head and nodded\nagain. \"Okay,\" he said. \"Take Car One.\"\n\nForrester moved off. Car One was not the first elevator car. As a matter\nof fact, it was in the middle bank, identified only by a small placard.\nIt took him almost five minutes to find it, and by the time he stepped\ntoward it clocks were ticking urgently in his head.\n\nIt would do him absolutely no good to be late.\n\nBut another Myrmidon was standing beside the closed doors of the\nelevator car. Forrester hissed in his breath with impatience--none of\nwhich showed on his face--and then caught himself. Certainly Zeus\nAll-Father knew what he was doing, and if Zeus had thrown these delays\nin his path, it was not for him to complain.\n\nThe thought was soothing. Nevertheless, Forrester showed his card to the\nMyrmidon with an abrupt action very like impatience. This Myrmidon\nmerely glanced at it in a bored fashion and pushed a button on the wall\nbehind him. The elevator doors opened, Forrester stepped inside, and the\ndoors closed.\n\nForrester was alone in a small bronzed cubicle which began at once to\nrise rapidly. Just how rapidly, he was unable to tell. There were no\nindicators at all on the elevator, and the opaque doors made it\nimpossible to see floors flit by. But his ears rang with the speed, and\nwhen the car finally stopped, it did so with a slight jerk that threw\nForrester, stiff and worried, off balance. He almost fell out of the car\nas the door opened, and clutched at something for support.\n\nThe something was the arm of a Myrmidon. Forrester gaped and looked\naround. He was in a plain hallway of polished marble. There was no way\nto tell how many stories above the street he was.\n\nThe Myrmidon seemed a more friendly sort than his compatriots\ndownstairs, and wore in addition to the usual lightning-bolt patch the\ntwo silver ants of a Captain on the shoulders of his uniform. He nearly\nsmiled at Forrester--but not quite.\n\n\"You're William Forrester?\" he said.\n\nForrester nodded. He produced the ID card and handed it with the special\ncard to the Myrmidon.\n\n\"Right,\" the Myrmidon said.\n\nForrester turned right.\n\nThe Myrmidon stared at him. \"No,\" he said. \"I mean it's all right.\nYou're all right.\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" Forrester said.\n\n\"Oh--\" The Myrmidon looked at him, then shrugged his shoulders. \"You're\nexpected,\" he said at last in a flat voice. \"Come with me.\"\n\nHe started down the hallway. Forrester followed him around a corner to\nan ornate bronzed door, covered with bas-reliefs depicting the actions\nof the Gods among themselves, and among men. The Myrmidon seemed\nunimpressed by the magnificence of the thing; he pushed it open and\nbowed low to, as far as Forrester could see, nobody in particular.\n\nTaking no chances, Forrester copied his bow. He was still bent when the\nMyrmidon announced: \"Forrester is here, Your Concupiscence,\" in a\nreverent tone of voice, and backed off a step, narrowly missing\nForrester himself in the process.\n\nHe waved a hand and Forrester went in.\n\nThe door shut halfway behind him.\n\nThe room was perfectly unbelievable. Its rich hangings were purple\nvelvet, draping a large window that looked out on ...\n\nForrester gulped. It was impossible to be this high. New York was spread\nout below like a toy city.\n\nHe jerked his eyes away from the window and back to the rest of the\nroom. It was furnished mainly with couches: big couches, little couches,\npuffy ones, spare ones, in felt, velvet, fur, and every other material\nForrester could think of. The rooms were flocked in a pale pink, and on\nthe floor was a deep-purple rug of a richer pile than Forrester had ever\nseen.\n\nAnd on one of the couches, the largest and the softest, she reclined.\n\nShe was clad only in the diaphanous robes of her calling, and she was\nstacked. Beside her, little Maya Wilson would have looked about eight\nyears old. Her hair was as red as the inside of a blast furnace, and had\nabout the same effect on Forrester's pulse rate. Her face was a slightly\nrounded oval, her body a series of mathematically indescribable curves.\n\nForrester did the only thing he could do.\n\nHe bowed again, even lower than before.\n\n\"Come in, William Forrester,\" said the High Priestess of\nVenus/Aphrodite, the veritable Primate of Venus for New York herself, in\na voice that managed to be all at once regal, pleasant and seductive.\n\nForrester, already in, could think of nothing to say. The gaze of Her\nConcupiscence fell on the half-open door. \"You may retire, Captain,\" she\nsaid to the waiting Myrmidon. \"And allow no one to enter here until I\ngive notice.\"\n\n\"Very well, Your Concupiscence,\" the Myrmidon said.\n\nThe door shut.\n\nForrester snapped erect from his bow, and then realized that he could do\nnothing but stand there until he had more information. What was the\nHigh Priestess of Aphrodite doing in the Tower of Zeus All-Father\nanyway? And--always supposing she had the right to be there, as of\ncourse she must have had--what did she want with William Forrester?\n\nHe heaved a great sigh. This was turning into an extremely puzzling day.\nFirst there had been the message and the card admitting him to the\nTower. Then there had been (the sigh changed in character) Maya Wilson.\nAnd then (the sigh changed again, into a faint echo of a groan) the\nfight in the _Boat House_.\n\nNow he was having an audience with the Primate of Venus for New York.\n\nWhy?\n\nThe High Priestess's smile gave him no hint. She raised herself to a\nsitting position and patted the couch. \"Sit over here,\" she said. \"Next\nto me.\" Then she changed her mind. \"No,\" she added. \"First just walk\nover here, stand up and turn around. Slowly.\"\n\nForrester's brain was whirling like a top, but his face was, as usual,\nexpressionless. He did as she had bid him, wondering frantically what\nwas going on, and why?\n\nAfter he had turned completely around and stood facing her again, the\nHigh Priestess simply sat and studied him for almost a full minute,\nlooking him up and down with eyes that were totally unreadable.\nForrester waited.\n\nFinally she nodded her head slowly. \"You'll do,\" she said, in a\nreflective tone, and nodded her head again. \"Yes, you'll do.\"\n\nForrester couldn't restrain his questions any longer. \"_Do?_\" he burst\nout. \"I mean,\" he continued, more quietly, \"what will I do for, Your\nConcupiscence?\"\n\n\"Oh, for whatever honor it is that our beloved Goddess has in mind for\nyou,\" the High Priestess said offhandedly. \"I can certainly see that you\nwill do. A little pudgy around the middle, but that's a trifle and\nhardly matters. The important things are there. You're obviously strong\nand quick.\"\n\nAt that point Forrester caught up with the first sentence of her\nexplanation. \"The--the Goddess?\" he said faintly.\n\n\"Certainly,\" the High Priestess said. \"Else why would I give you\naudience? I am not promiscuous in my dealings with the lay world.\"\n\n\"I'm sure,\" Forrester said respectfully.\n\nThe High Priestess looked at him sardonically. \"Of course you are,\" she\nsaid. \"However, the important thing is that our beloved Aphrodite has\nselected you, William Forrester, for some high honor.\"\n\nForrester caught her word for the Goddess, and remembered, thanking his\nlucky stars he hadn't had a chance to slip, that here in the Tower it\nwas protocol to refer to the Gods and Goddesses by their Greek names\nalone.\n\n\"I don't suppose,\" he said tentatively, \"that you have any idea just\nwhat this--high honor is?\"\n\n\"You, William Forrester,\" the High Priestess began, in some rage, \"dare\nto question--\" Her tone changed. \"Oh, well, I suppose I shouldn't become\nangry with ... No.\" She shrugged, but her tone carried a little pique.\n\"Frankly, I don't know what the honor is.\"\n\n\"Well, then,\" Forrester said, his bearing perfectly calm, even though he\ncould feel his stomach sinking to ground level, \"how do you know it's an\nhonor?\" The thought that had crossed his mind was almost too horrible to\nretain, but he had to say it. \"Perhaps,\" he went on, \"I've offended the\nGods in some unusual way--some way very offensive to them.\"\n\n\"Perhaps you have.\"\n\n\"And perhaps,\" Forrester said, \"they've decided on some exquisite method\nof punishing me. Something like the punishment they gave Tantalus when\nhe--\"\n\n\"I know the ways of the Gods quite well, thank you,\" the High Priestess\nsaid coolly. \"And I can tell you that your fears have no justification.\"\n\n\"But--\"\n\n\"Please,\" the High Priestess said, raising a hand. \"If the Gods were to\npunish you, they would simply have sent out a squad of Myrmidons to pick\nyou up, and that would have been the end of it.\"\n\n\"Perhaps not,\" Forrester said, in a voice that didn't sound at all like\nhis own to him. It sounded much too unconcerned. \"Perhaps I have\noffended only the Goddess herself.\" The idea sounded more plausible the\nmore he thought about it. \"Certainly the All-Father would back up his\nfavorite Daughter in punishing a mortal.\"\n\n\"Certainly he would. There is no doubt of that. And still the Myrmidons\nwould have--\"\n\n\"Not necessarily. You're well aware of the occasional arguments and\nquarrels between the Gods.\"\n\n\"I am,\" the High Priestess said, not without irony. \"And it does not\nappear seemly that an ordinary mortal should mention--\"\n\n\"I teach History,\" Forrester said. \"I know of such quarrels. Especially\nbetween Athena and Aphrodite.\"\n\n\"And?\"\n\n\"It's obvious. Since I'm an acolyte of Athena, it may be that Aphrodite\nwished to keep my arrest secret.\"\n\n\"I doubt it,\" the High Priestess said.\n\nForrester wished he could believe her. But his own theory looked\nuncomfortably plausible. \"It certainly looks as if I'm right.\"\n\n\"Well--\" For a second the High Priestess paled visibly, the freckles\nthat went with her red hair standing out clearly on her face and giving\nher the disturbing appearance of an eleven-year-old. No eleven-year-old,\nhowever, Forrester reminded himself, had ever been built like the High\nPriestess.\n\nThen she regained her color and laughed, all in an instant. \"For a\nminute,\" she said in a light tone, \"you almost convinced me of your\nforebodings. But there's nothing in them. There couldn't be.\"\n\nForrester opened his mouth, and _Why not?_ was on his lips. But he never\ngot a chance to say the words. The High Priestess blinked and peered\nmore closely at his face, and before he had a chance to speak she asked\nhim: \"What happened to you?\"\n\n\"A small accident,\" Forrester said quickly. It was a lie, but he thought\na pardonable one. The truth was just too complicated to spin out; he had\nno real intent to deceive.\n\nBut the High Priestess shook her head. \"No,\" she said. \"Not an accident.\nA fight. Your hands are skinned and bruised.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" Forrester said. \"It was a fight. But I was attacked, and\nentitled to defend myself.\"\n\n\"I'm sure,\" the High Priestess said. \"Yet I have a question for you. Who\nwon?\"\n\n\"Won? I did. Naturally.\"\n\nIt sounded boastful, he reflected, but it wasn't. He had won, and it had\nbeen natural to him to do so. His build and strength, as well as his\nspeed, had made any other outcome unlikely.\n\nAnd the High Priestess didn't seem to take offense. She said only: \"I\nthought so. Just a moment.\" Then she walked over to a telephone. It was\na simple act but Forrester watched it fervently. First she stood up, and\nthen she took a step, and then another step ... and her whole body\nmoved. And moved.\n\nIt was marvelous. He watched her bend down to pick up the phone without\nany clear idea of the meaning of the motions. The motions themselves\nwere enough. Every curve and jiggle and bounce was engraved forever on\nhis mind.\n\nThe High Priestess dialed a number, waited and said: \"Aphrodite's\ncompliments to Hermes the Healer.\"\n\nAn indistinguishable voice answered her from the receiver.\n\n\"Aphrodite thanks you,\" the High Priestess said, \"and asks if Hermes\nmight send one of his priests around for a few minor ministrations.\"\n\nThe receiver said something else.\n\n\"No,\" the High Priestess said. \"Nothing like that. Don't you think we\nhave other interests--such as they are?\"\n\nAgain the receiver.\n\n\"Just a black eye and some skin lacerations,\" the High Priestess said.\n\"Nothing serious.\"\n\nAnd the receiver replied once more.\n\n\"Very well,\" the High Priestess said. \"Aphrodite wishes you well.\" She\nhung up.\n\nShe came back to the couch, Forrester's eyes following her every inch of\nthe way. She sat down, looked up and said: \"What's the matter? Do I bore\nyou?\"\n\n\"_Bore_ me?\" Forrester all but cried.\n\n\"It's just--well, nothing, I suppose,\" the High Priestess said. \"Your\nexpression.\"\n\n\"Training,\" Forrester explained. \"An acolyte does well not to express\nhis emotions too clearly.\"\n\nThe High Priestess nodded casually and patted the couch at her side.\n\"Sit down here, next to me.\"\n\nForrester did so, gingerly.\n\nA moment of silence ensued.\n\nThen Forrester, gathering courage, said: \"Thank you for getting a\nHealer. But I'd like to ask you--\"\n\n\"Yes?\"\n\n\"How do you know I'm not under some sort of carefully concealed arrest?\nAfter all, you said before that you were sure--\"\n\n\"And I am sure,\" the High Priestess said. \"Aphrodite herself has ordered\na sacrifice in her favor. A sacrifice from you. And Aphrodite does not\naccept--much less _order_--a sacrifice from those standing in her\ndisfavor.\"\n\n\"You're--\"\n\n\"I'm sure,\" the High Priestess said.\n\n\"Oh,\" Forrester said. \"Good.\" The world was not quite as black as it\ncould have been. And still, it was not exactly shining white. A\nsacrifice? And outside the door, Forrester could hear a disturbance.\n\nWhat did that mean?\n\nHer Concupiscence didn't seem to hear it at first. \"We will perform the\nrite together and--\" The noise grew louder. \"What's that?\" she said.\n\nIt was the sound of argument. Forrester realized what had happened.\n\"It's the priest from Hermes,\" he said. \"The Healer. You forgot to tell\nthe Captain of Myrmidons to let him in.\"\n\n\"My goodness!\" the High Priestess said. \"So I did! It slipped my mind\nentirely.\" She touched Forrester's cheek affectionately. \"Of course, I\nimagine it's only natural to be a bit forgetful when--\" She got up and\nwent to the door.\n\nThe Captain and a small, fat priest in a golden-edged tunic were tangled\nconfusedly outside. The High Priestess looked away from them in disdain\nand said regally: \"You may permit the Healer to enter, Captain.\" The\ntangle came untied and the little priest scooted in. To him, as the door\nclosed again, the High Priestess whispered: \"Sorry. I didn't expect you\nquite so soon.\"\n\n\"No more did I!\" The priest waved his caduceus furiously, so that it\nseemed as if the twin snakes twined round it were moving, the two wings\nabove them beating, and the ball surmounting all, on top of the staff,\ntraced uneasy designs in the air. \"Myrmidons!\" he said.\n\n\"I certainly regret--\"\n\n\"If you boiled down their brains for the fat content, one alone would\nsupply the Temple with candles for a year! Just beef and nothing more!\nBeef! Beef!\"\n\nThen, with a start, he seemed to see the High Priestess for the first\ntime, and his tone changed. \"Oh,\" he said. \"Good evening, Your\nConcupiscence.\"\n\n\"Good evening,\" the High Priestess said in an indulgent tone.\n\n\"Well, well, well,\" the priest said. \"What seems to be the trouble? My\ngoodness. It must be important, sure enough--certainly important.\" His\nlittle round red eager face seemed to shine as he went on. \"Hermes\nhimself transported me here just as soon as you called!\"\n\n\"Really?\"\n\n\"Oh, my, yes,\" the priest said. \"Just as soon as ever. Yes. Hm. And you\ncan believe me when I tell you--believe me, Your Concupiscence--take my\nword when I tell you--\"\n\n\"Yes?\"\n\n\"Hermes,\" the priest said. \"Hermes doesn't often take such an\ninterest--I may say such a _personal_ interest--in a mortal, I'll tell\nyou. And you can believe me when I do tell you that. I do.\"\n\n\"I'm sure,\" the High Priestess said.\n\n\"Yes,\" the priest said, waving his caduceus gently. He blinked. \"Where's\nthe patient? The mortal?\"\n\n\"He's over here,\" the High Priestess said, motioning to Forrester\nsitting awestruck on the couch. Priests of Hermes were common enough\nsights--but a priest like this was something new and strange in his\nexperience.\n\n\"Ah,\" the priest said, twinkling at him. \"So there you are, eh? Over\nthere? You _are_ sitting over _there_, aren't you?\"\n\n\"That's right,\" Forrester said blankly.\n\n\"Now listen to me carefully,\" the High Priestess said. \"You're not\nto ask his name, or mention anything about this visit to\nanyone--understand?\"\n\nThe priest blinked. \"Oh, certainly. Absolutely. Without doubt. I've\nalready been told that, you might say. Already. Certainly. Wouldn't\nthink of such a thing.\" He moved over and stood near Forrester, peering\ndown at him. \"My goodness,\" he said. \"Let me see that eye, young man.\"\n\nForrester turned his head wordlessly.\n\n\"Oh, my, yes,\" the priest said. \"Black indeed. Very black. A fight. My,\nyes. An altercation, disagreement, discussion, battle--\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Forrester cut in.\n\n\"Certainly you have,\" the priest said. \"And what'd the other fellow look\nlike, eh? Beaten, I'll bet. You look a strong type.\"\n\nForrester relaxed. It was the only thing to do while the priest babbled\non, touching his wounds gently as he did so with various parts of his\ncaduceus. The pain vanished with a touch of the left wingtip, and the\nlacerations healed instantly as they were caressed with first one and\nthen another of the various coils of the snakes.\n\nBut Forrester now was free to worry. Arrest was out of the question. As\nthe High Priestess had said, on the evidence it was clear that Aphrodite\nintended to honor him in some way. And there was nothing at all, he\nthought, wrong with an honor from the Goddess of Love.\n\nBut another sacrifice? After the sacrifice to Aphrodite he'd made\nearlier, and the fight he'd gotten into, he just didn't quite feel up to\nit. It wouldn't do to refuse, but ...\n\n\"Well,\" the priest said, stepping back. \"Well, well. You ought to be all\nright now, young fellow--right as rain.\"\n\nForrester said: \"Thanks.\"\n\n\"Might feel a little soreness--tenderness, you might say--for a day or\nso. Only a day or so, tenderness,\" the priest said. \"After that, right\nas rain. Right as you'll ever be. _All_ right, as a matter of fact: all\nright.\"\n\nForrester said: \"Thanks.\"\n\nThe priest went to the door, turned, and said to the High Priestess:\n\"Hermes' blessing on you both, as a matter of fact, as they say.\nBlessings from Hermes on you both.\"\n\nThe High Priestess nodded regally.\n\n\"And,\" the priest said, \"merely by the way, as it might be, without\nmeaning harm, if you would ask a blessing for me--Aphrodite's blessing?\nEasy for you. Of course, it would be nice curing--curing, as they\nsay--stupidity, plain dumbness, as they call such things--curing\nstupidity as easily as I can cure small ills. Nice.\"\n\n\"Indeed,\" the High Priestess said.\n\n\"But there,\" the priest went on. \"Only the Gods can cure that. Only the\nGods and no one else. Yes. Hm. And not often. They don't do anything\nlike that in the--ah--regular course of things. As a matter of fact, you\nmight say, I've never heard of--never heard of such a case. Never. Not\none. Yet ...\" He opened the door, spat: \"Myrmidons!\" and disappeared\ninto the hallway.\n\nThe door banged shut.\n\nForrester sighed heavily. The High Priestess turned to him.\n\n\"Feel better?\" she asked.\n\n\"Much,\" Forrester said, dreading the ordeal to come.\n\nThe High Priestess came over to the couch and sat down next to him. She\nput a hand on his shoulder. \"Shall we prepare for the--sacrifice?\"\n\nForrester sighed again. \"Sure,\" he said. \"Naturally.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWhen she was locked in his arms, it was as if time had started all over\nagain. Forrester responded to the eagerness of the woman as he'd never\ndreamed he could respond; all his tiredness dropped away as if it had\nnever been, and he was a new man. He touched her bare flesh and felt the\nheat of her through his fingers and hands; with his arms around her\nnakedness he rolled, locked to her, feeling the friction of skin against\nskin and the magnificence of her.\n\nThe sacrifice went on ... and on ... and on into endless time and\nendless space. Forrester thrust and gasped at the woman and her head\nwent back, her mouth pulled open as she shivered and responded to\nhim....\n\nForever....\n\nUntil finally they lay, panting, in the magnificent room. Forrester rose\nfirst, vaguely surprised at himself. He found a towel in a closet at the\nfar end of the room and wiped his damp forehead slowly.\n\n\"Well,\" he said. \"That was quite a sacrifice. What next?\"\n\nThe High Priestess raised herself on one elbow and stared across the\nroom at him. \"There is no need for such familiarity, Forrester,\" she\nsaid. \"Not from a lay acolyte.\"\n\nForrester tossed the towel onto a couch. \"My apologies, Your\nConcupiscence. I'm a little--light-headed. But what happens next?\"\n\nThe High Priestess reached into the diaphanous pile of her clothing and\ncame up with a small diamond-encrusted watch she wore, usually, on her\nwrist. \"Our timing was almost perfect,\" she said. \"It is now\ntwenty-hundred hours. The Goddess expects you at twenty-oh-one exactly.\"\n\nA hurried half-minute passed. Then, fully dressed, Forrester went with\nthe High Priestess to a golden door half-hidden in the hangings at the\nside of the room. She made a series of mystical signs: the circle, the\nserpent and others Forrester couldn't quite follow.\n\nShe opened the door, genuflecting as she did so, and Forrester dropped\nto one knee behind her, looking at the doorway.\n\nIt was filled with a pale blue haze that looked like the clear summer\nsky on a hot day. Except that it wasn't sky, but a curtain that wavered\nand shimmered before his eyes. Beyond it, he could see nothing.\n\nThe High Priestess rose from her genuflection and Forrester followed\nsuit. There was a sole second of silence.\n\nThen the High Priestess said: \"You are to step through the Veil of\nHeaven, William Forrester.\"\n\nForrester said: \"_Me?_ Through the _Veil of Heaven_?\"\n\n\"Don't be afraid,\" she said. \"And don't try to touch the Veil. Just walk\nthrough as if nothing at all were there.\"\n\nForrester filled his lungs as though he were going to take a very high\ndive. He thought: _Here goes nothing_. That was all; there wasn't time\nfor anything else.\n\nHe stepped into the blue haze, and had a sudden sensation of falling.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER FIVE\n\n\nThere was a tingle like a mild electric shock. Forrester opened his\nmouth and then closed it again as the tingle stopped, and the sense of\nfalling simply died away. He had closed his eyes on the way into the\ncurtain, and now he opened them again.\n\nHe closed them very quickly, counted to ten, and took a deep breath.\nThen he opened them to look at the room he was in.\n\nIt was unlike any room he had ever seen before. It didn't have the\nopulence of the High Priestess's rooms. I am a room, it seemed to say,\nand a room is what I was meant to be. I don't have to draw attention to\nmyself like my poorer sisters. I am content merely to exist as the room\nof rooms, the very type and image of the Ideal Enclosure.\n\nThe floors and walk of the place seemed to blend into each other at odd\nangles. Forrester's eyes couldn't quite follow them or understand them,\nand judging the size of the room was out of the question. There was a\ngolden wash of light filling the room, though it didn't seem to come\nfrom anywhere in particular. It was, in fact, as if the room itself were\nshining. Forrester blinked and rubbed his eyes. The light, or whatever\nit was, was changing color.\n\nGradually, he realized that it went on doing that. He wasn't sure that\nhe liked it, but it was certainly different. The colors went from gold\nto pale rose to violet to blue, and so on, back to gold again, while\nlittle eddies and swirls of light sparkled into rainbows here and there.\n\nForrester began to feel dizzy again.\n\nThere were various objects standing around here and there in the room,\nbut Forrester couldn't quite tell what they were. Even their sizes were\ndifficult to judge, because of the shifting light and shape of the room\nitself. There was only one thing that seemed reasonably certain.\n\nHe was alone in the room.\n\nSet in one wall was a square of light that didn't change color quite as\nmuch as everything else. Forrester judged it to be a window and headed\nfor it. With his first step, he discovered something else about the\nplace.\n\nThe carpeting was completely unique. Instead of fiber, the floor seemed\nto have been covered a foot deep with foam rubber. Forrester didn't\nexactly walk to the window; he bounced there. The sensation was almost\nenjoyable, he thought, when you got used to it. He wondered just how\nlong it took to get used to it and settled on eighty years as a good\nfirst guess.\n\nHe stood in front of the window. He looked out.\n\nHe saw nothing but clouds and sky.\n\nIt took a long while for him to decide what to do next, and when he\nfinally did come to a decision, it was the wrong one.\n\nHe looked down.\n\nBelow him there were tumbled rocks, ledges of ice and snow, clouds\nand--far, far below--the flat land of the Earth. He wanted to shut his\neyes, but he couldn't. The whole vast stomach-churning panorama spread\nout beneath him endlessly. The people below, if there were any, weren't\neven big enough to be ants. They were completely invisible. Forrester\ntook a deep breath and gripped the side ledges of the window.\n\nAnd a voice behind him said: \"Welcome, Mortal.\"\n\nForrester almost went through the window. But he managed to regain his\nbalance and turn around, saying angrily: \"Don't _do_ that!\" As the last\nof the words left his lips, he became aware of the smiling figure facing\nhim.\n\nShe was standing in a spotlight, Forrester thought at first. Then he saw\nthat the light was coming from the woman herself--or from her clothing.\nThe dress she wore was a satinlike sheath that glowed with an aura even\nbrighter than the room. Her blonde hair picked up the radiance and\nglowed, too, illuminating a face that was at once regal, inviting and\npassionate. It was, Forrester thought, a hell of a disturbing\ncombination.\n\nThe cloth of the dress clung to her figure as if it wanted to. Forrester\ndidn't blame it a bit; the dress showed off a figure that was not only\nbeyond his wildest dreams, but a long way beyond what he had hitherto\nregarded as the bounds of possibility. From shoulder to toe, she was\nperfection.\n\nThis was also true of the woman from shoulder to crown.\n\nForrester gulped and, automatically, went on one knee.\n\n\"Please,\" he murmured. \"Pardon me. I didn't mean--\"\n\n\"Quite all right,\" the Goddess murmured. \"I understand perfectly.\"\n\n\"But I--\"\n\n\"Never mind all that now,\" Venus said, with just a hint of impatience.\n\"Rise, William Forrester--or you who were William Forrester.\"\n\nForrester rose. Sweat was pouring down his face. He made no effort to\nwipe it away. \"Were?\" he asked, dazed. \"But that's my name!\"\n\n\"It _was_,\" Venus said, in the same calm tone. \"Henceforth, your name is\nDionysus.\"\n\nForrester took a while to remember to swallow. \"Dionysus?\" he said at\nlast.\n\nThere was another silence.\n\nForrester, feeling that perhaps his first question could use some\namplification, said: \"Dionysus? Bacchus? You mean me?\"\n\n\"Quite right,\" Venus said. \"That will be your name, and you'd better\nbegin getting used to it.\"\n\n\"Now wait a minute!\" he said. \"I don't mean to be disrespectful, but\nsomething occurs to me. I mean, it's the first thing I thought of, and\nI'm probably wrong, but just let me ask the questions, if you don't\nmind, and maybe some of this will make some sense. Because just a few\nhours ago I was doing very nicely on my own and I--\"\n\n\"What are your questions?\" Venus said.\n\nForrester swayed. \"Dionysus/Bacchus himself,\" he said. \"Won't he mind\nmy--\"\n\nVenus laughed. \"Mind your using his name? My goodness, no.\"\n\n\"But--\"\n\n\"It's all because of the orgies,\" Venus said.\n\nEverything, he told himself, was getting just a little too much for him.\n\"Orgies?\" he said.\n\nVenus nodded. \"You see, there are all those orgies held in his honor.\nYou know about those, of course.\"\n\n\"Sure I do,\" Forrester said, watching everything narrowly. In just a few\nseconds, he told himself hopefully, the whole room would vanish and he\nwould be in a nice, peaceful insane asylum.\n\n\"Well, it isn't impossible for a God to be at all the orgies held in his\nhonor,\" Venus said. \"Naturally not. But, at the same time, they are all\nrather boring--for a God, I mean. And that's why you're here,\" she\nfinished.\n\nForrester said: \"Oh.\" And then he said: \"Oh?\" The room hadn't\ndisappeared yet, but he was willing to give it time.\n\n\"Dionysus,\" Venus said patiently, as if she were explaining the matter\nto a small and rather ugly child, \"gets tired of appearing at the\norgies. He wants someone to take his place.\"\n\nThe silence after that sentence was a very long one. Forrester could\nthink of nothing to say but: \"_Me?_\"\n\n\"You will be raised to the status of Godling,\" Venus said. \"You remember\nHercules and Achilles, don't you?\"\n\n\"Never met them,\" Forrester said vacantly.\n\n\"Naturally,\" Venus said. \"They were, however, ancient heroes, raised to\nthe status of Godling, just as you yourself will be. However, you will\nnot be honored or worshipped under your own name.\"\n\nForrester nodded. \"Naturally,\" he said, wondering what he was talking\nabout. There was, he realized, the possibility that he was not insane\nafter all, but he didn't want to think about that. It was much too\npainful.\n\n\"You will receive instructions in the use of certain powers,\" Venus\nsaid. \"These will enable you to perform your new duties.\"\n\nDuties.\n\nThe word carried a strange connotation. Dionysus/Bacchus was the God of\nwine, among other things, and women and song had been thrown in as an\nafterthought. The duties of a stand-in for a God like that sounded just\na little bit overwhelming.\n\n\"These--duties,\" he said. \"Will they be temporary or permanent?\"\n\n\"Well,\" Venus said, \"that depends.\" She smiled at him sweetly.\n\n\"Depends?\"\n\n\"So far,\" Venus said, \"our testing shows that you are capable of\nhandling certain of the duties to be entrusted to you. But, for the\nrest, everything depends on your own talents and devotion.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" Forrester said, and then: \"Testing?\"\n\n\"You don't suppose that we would pick a mortal for an important job like\nthis without making certain that he was capable of doing the job, do\nyou?\"\n\n\"Frankly,\" Forrester said, \"I haven't got around to supposing anything\nyet.\"\n\nVenus smiled again. \"We have tested you,\" she said, \"and so far you\nappear perfectly capable of exercising your powers.\"\n\nForrester blinked. \"Exercising?\"\n\n\"Exactly. As a street brawler, for instance, you do exceptionally well.\"\n\n\"As a--\"\n\n\"How does your face feel?\" she asked.\n\n\"My what?\" Forrester said. \"Oh. Face. Fine. Street brawls, you said?\"\n\n\"I did,\" Venus said. \"My goodness, the way you bashed that one bruiser\nwith your drink--that was really excellent. As a matter of fact, I feel\nit incumbent on me to tell you that I haven't enjoyed a fight so much in\nyears.\"\n\nWondering whether he should be complimented or just a little ashamed of\nhimself, Forrester said nothing at all. The idea that he had been under\nthe personal supervision of Aphrodite herself bothered him more than he\ncould say. The brawl was the first thing that came to mind. It didn't\nseem like the sort of thing a Goddess of Love ought to have been\nwatching.\n\nAnd then he thought of the High Priestess.\n\nHe felt a blush creeping up around his collar, and was thankful only\nthat it was not visible under the tan of his skin. He remembered who had\nordered the sacrificial rites, and thought bitterly and guiltily about\nspectator sports.\n\nBut his face remained perfectly calm.\n\n\"So far,\" Venus said, \"I must say that you have come through with flying\ncolors. You should be proud of yourself.\"\n\nForrester didn't feel exactly proud. He wanted to crawl into a hole and\ndie there.\n\n\"Well,\" he said, \"I--\"\n\n\"But there is more,\" Aphrodite said.\n\n\"More?\"\n\nThe idea didn't sound attractive. In spite of what one of the tests had\ninvolved, the notion of any more tests was just a little fatiguing.\nBesides, Forrester was not at all sure that he would be at his best,\nwhen he knew that dispassionate observers were chronicling his technique\nand his every movement.\n\nHow much more, he wondered, could he take?\n\nAnd, he reflected, how much more of _what_?\n\n\"We must be certain,\" Aphrodite said, \"that you can prove yourself\nworthy of the dignity of a Godling.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" Forrester said cleverly. \"So there are going to be more tests?\"\n\n\"There are,\" Venus said. \"After all, you will be expected to act as the\n_alter persona_ of Dionysus. That involves responsibilities almost\nbeyond the ken of a mortal.\"\n\nWine, Forrester thought wildly, women and song.\n\nHe wondered if he were going to be asked to sing something. He couldn't\nremember anything except the _Star Spangled Banner_ and an exceptionally\nsilly rhyme from his childhood. Neither of them seemed just right for\nthe occasion.\n\n\"You must learn to behave as a true God,\" Venus said. \"And we must know\nwhether you are fitted for the part.\"\n\nForrester nodded. The one thing keeping him sane, he reflected, was the\nhope of insanity. But the room was still there, and Venus was standing\nnear him, talking quietly away.\n\n\"Thus,\" she said, \"there must be further tests, so that we may be sure\nof your capacities.\"\n\nCapacities? Just what was _that_ supposed to mean? \"I see,\" he lied.\n\"And suppose I fail?\"\n\n\"Fail?\"\n\n\"Suppose I don't live up to expectations,\" Forrester said.\n\n\"Well, then,\" Venus declared, \"I'm afraid the Gods might be angry with\nyou.\"\n\nForrester had no doubt whatever as to the meaning of the words. Either\nhe lived up to expectations or he didn't live at all. The Gods' anger\nwas not a small affair, and it seldom satisfied itself with small\nresults. When a God got angry with you, you simply hoped the result\nwould be quick. You didn't really dare hope it would also be temporary.\n\nForrester passed a hand over his forehead. If he had been doing his own\npicking, he thought a little sadly, the job of tryout stand-in for\nDionysus was not the job he would have chosen. But then, the choice\nwasn't his, and it never had been. It was the Gods who had picked him.\n\nUnfortunately, if he failed, the mistake wouldn't be laid at the door of\nthe Gods. It would be laid at the door of William Forrester, together\nwith a nice, big, black funeral wreath.\n\nBut it didn't sound too bad at that, he told himself hopefully. After\nall, it wasn't every day that a man was offered the job of stand-in for\na God, not every day that a man was offered the chance of passing a lot\nof strenuous and embarrassing tests, and dying if he failed.\n\nHe told himself sternly to look on the positive side, but all he could\nthink of was the succession of tests still to come. What would they be\nlike? How could he ever pass them all? What would be thought necessary\nto establish a man as a first-rate double for Dionysus?\n\nLooks, he thought, were obviously the first thing, and he certainly had\nthose. For a second he almost wished he could see Ed Symes and apologize\nfor getting mad when Ed had told him he looked like Bacchus.\n\nBut then, he reflected, he didn't want to go too far. The idea of\napologizing to Ed Symes, no matter who his sister was, made Forrester's\ngorge rise about five and a half feet.\n\n\"However,\" Aphrodite went on, as if she had just thought of something\ntoo unimportant to bother mentioning, \"don't worry about it. My father's\nthunderbolt needn't concern you. I have every confidence that you will\nprove yourself.\"\n\nShe smiled radiantly at him.\n\nThe idea occurred to Forrester that she just didn't think that a\nmortal's mortality was important. But the idea didn't stay long. Being\nreassured by a Goddess, he told himself confusedly, was very reassuring.\n\nVenus was looking him up and down speculatively, and Forrester suddenly\nthought a new test was coming. A little gentle sweat began to break out\non his forehead again, but his face stayed calm. He took a deep breath\nand tried to concentrate on gathering strength. The High Priestess had\nbeen something special but, Forrester thought, she had not really called\nout his _all_. Venus was clearly another matter.\n\nBut Venus said only: \"Those clothes,\" in a considering sort of tone.\n\n\"Clothes?\" Forrester said, trying to readjust in a hurry.\n\n\"You certainly can't go in those clothes. Hera would object quite\nviolently, I'm afraid. She's awfully stuffy about such things.\"\n\nThe intimate details about the Gods intrigued Forrester. \"Stuffy? Hera?\"\n\n\"Confidentially,\" Venus said, \"at times, the All-Mother can be an\nabsolute bitch.\"\n\nShe went over to one of the light-swirled walls, and a part of the light\nseemed to fade as she did so. Of course, she did nothing so crude as\nopening a door. When she started for the wall there was no closet\napparent there, but when she arrived it was there, solid, and open.\n\nIt was just that simple.\n\nShe took out a white robe and started back. Forrester took his eyes from\nher with an effort and watched the closet disappear again. By the time\nshe had reached him, it was only a part of the swirling wall again.\n\nAnd the hospital attendants were nowhere in sight.\n\nShe handed Forrester the robe. He took it warily, but it seemed real\nenough. At any rate, it was as real as anything else that was happening\nto him, he thought.\n\nIt was a simple tunic, cut in the style of the ancient Greek _chiton_,\nand open at one side instead of the front. Forrester turned it in his\nhands. At the waist and shoulder there was a golden clasp to hold it in\nplace. The clasp wasn't figured in any special way. The material itself\nwas odd: it was an almost fluorescent white and, though it was perfectly\nopaque, it was thinner than any paper Forrester had ever seen in public.\nIt almost didn't seem to be there when he rubbed it between his thumb\nand forefinger.\n\n\"Well, don't just stand there,\" Venus said. \"Get started.\"\n\n\"Started?\" Forrester said.\n\n\"Get dressed. The others are waiting for you.\"\n\n\"Others?\"\n\nBut she didn't answer. Forrester looked frantically around the room for\nanything that looked even remotely like a dressing room. As a last\nresort, he was willing to settle for a screen. No room, no screen. He\nwas willing to settle for a chair he could crouch behind. There was\nnone.\n\nHe looked hopefully at the Goddess. Perhaps, he thought, she would leave\nwhile he dressed. She showed no sign of doing so. He cleared his throat\nand jerked at his collar nervously.\n\n\"Now, now,\" Venus said sternly. \"Don't tell me the presence of your\nGoddess embarrasses you.\" She raised her head imperiously. \"Hurry it\nup.\"\n\nVery slowly, he began taking off his clothes. There was, after all,\nnothing to be ashamed of, he told himself. As a matter of fact, Venus\nought to be getting used to the sight of him undressing by this time.\n\nSomehow, he finally managed to get the _chiton_ on straight. Venus\nlooked him over and nodded her approval.\n\n\"Come along now,\" she said. \"They're waiting for us. And one thing:\ndon't get nervous, for Hera's sake. You're all right.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" Forrester said. \"Sure. Perfectly all right. Right as rain.\"\n\n\"Well, you are. As a matter of fact, I think you'll make a fine\nDionysus.\"\n\nShe led him toward a wall opposite where the closet had been. As they\napproached it, a section of it became bluer and bluer. With a sinking\nfeeling, Forrester told himself that he knew what was coming.\n\nHe did. The wall dissolved into the shimmering blue haze of a Veil of\nHeaven, just like the one that had transported him from New York to his\npresent position. Where that was, he wasn't entirely sure, but\nremembering his one look out the window, he suspected it was Mount\nOlympus.\n\nBut there wasn't any time for thinking. Venus took his hand coolly as\nthey reached the blue haze. Then both of them stepped through.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER SIX\n\n\nThe room into which they stepped seemed even larger than the one they\nhad left. The distances were just as hard to measure, and why Forrester\nhad the feeling, he couldn't have said, but it did feel larger. The\nsense of enormous space hung over it.\n\nThe wall colors were just the same, however, dripping and changing in a\ncontinuous flow of patterns, with the little sunbursts and rainbows\nappearing here and there without any visible reason.\n\nBut the room itself was comparatively unimportant, Forrester knew. It\nwas what went on in the room that sent shivers up his spine, and\ninstructed one knee to start knocking against other one. He had heard of\nthe Court of the Gods, though as far as he knew no mortal had ever seen\nit. There were certainly no photographs of it, even in the most\nexhaustive travel books.\n\nForrester knew without question that he was standing in that Courtroom.\nThe knowledge did not make him calm. And the beings sitting and\nreclining on couches along the shimmering walls made him feel even\nworse. He recognized every one of them, and every one sent a new shock\nof awe running through his nerves. His stomach felt like a hard rubber\nhandball.\n\nThere was Zeus All-Father, with his great, silvery, ringleted beard. His\nhands were combing through it and he was frowning majestically into the\ndistance. Next to him was the imperious Hera, Mother of the Gods. She\nsat with her hands folded in her lap, as if she were waiting for the end\nof the world to be announced. There was Mars, tough and hairy-chested,\nscratching his side with one hand and scowling horribly. His fierce,\nbearded face looked somehow out of place without the battle helmet that\nusually topped it. The horned and goat-legged Pan was there, and Vulcan,\ncrippled and ugly with his squat body and giant arms, reclining like an\nape on a couch all alone, and motherly looking Ceres using one hand to\npat her hair as if she, not Forrester, were the nervous one.\n\nAthena was there, too, lovely and gray-eyed. She seemed to be smiling at\nhim with special favor, and Forrester felt grateful.\n\nHe needed all the help he could get.\n\nBut the other Gods were absent. Where were they? Pluto and Phoebus\nApollo were missing, and so were Mercury, Neptune, Dionysus and Diana.\n\nAnd ...\n\n\"Ah,\" the great voice of Zeus boomed, as Forrester and Venus stepped\nthrough the Veil. Forrester heard the voice and shuddered. \"The mortal\nis here,\" Zeus went on in his awe-inspiring roar. \"Welcome, Mortal!\"\n\nForrester opened his mouth, but Hera got in ahead of him.\n\nShe leaned over to her divine husband and hissed, in a tone audible to\neveryone in the room: \"Don't belabor the obvious, dear. Enough's\nenough.\"\n\n\"It is?\" Zeus said. The roar was exactly the same. \"I'm not at all sure.\nNo! Of course not. Naturally not, my dear. Naturally not.\" He looked\naround slowly, nodding his great head. \"Now, now. Let's see. Do we have\na quorum? I don't see Morpheus. Where's Morpheus?\"\n\n\"Asleep, as usual,\" Mars growled. He finished scratching his side and\nbegan on his beard. \"Where else would the old fool be? He's nothing but\na bore anyway and I say to Hades with him. Let's get on.\"\n\n\"Now, Ares,\" Pallas Athena said mildly. \"Don't be crude.\"\n\n\"Crude?\" Mars bellowed. \"All I said was that the old bore's not here.\nIt's true, isn't it? What in Hades is so crude about it?\"\n\n\"Hah!\" Vulcan growled, in a bass voice that seemed to come from the\nbottom of a large barrel. \"Look who mentions being a bore.\"\n\n\"Why, you--\" Mars started.\n\n\"Children!\" Hera snapped at once.\n\nThere was quiet, and Forrester had time to get dizzy. Maybe, he thought,\nhe had been traveling too much. After all, he had started in New York,\nand then he had found himself on what he suspected was Mount Olympus, in\nGreece. And now he was somewhere else.\n\nHe wasn't entirely sure where. The Court of the Gods existed; he knew\nthat. But he had never heard just where it existed, and it was entirely\npossible that no mortal knew. In which case, Forrester thought\nconfusedly, I don't even know where I am.\n\nFor the first time, he began to think seriously that, perhaps, he was\nsane after all. Maybe everything he was seeing and hearing was true. It\nwas certainly beginning to look that way. And, in that case, maybe the\ndizziness he felt was just airsickness, or spacesickness, or whatever\nkind of sickness came from traveling through those blue Veils.\n\nAt least, he told himself, thinking of the old man he had met on the way\ndowntown, at least it beat the subway.\n\nHe looked behind him. He and Venus were standing in the center of the\nroom. There was no blue veil behind them. It had, apparently, done its\nduty and gone away.\n\nThe subway, Forrester told himself solemnly, didn't do that.\n\nZeus cleared his throat ponderously. \"I count eight of us,\" he said.\n\"Eight, all told. Of course, that's eight without the mortal.\" He\npaused, and then added: \"If you count the mortal in, there are nine.\"\n\nPan stirred. \"That's a quorum,\" he announced in a hoarse voice that had\na heavy vibrato in it. It reminded Forrester, oddly, of the bleating of\na goat. Pan crossed his legs and his hooves clashed, striking sparks.\n\"Pluto and Poseidon said they'd accept our judgment.\"\n\n\"Why the absence?\" Vulcan said shortly.\n\n\"A storm, I think,\" Pan said. \"Out in the North Atlantic, if memory\nserves--and it does. As far as I recall, there are four ships sunk so\nfar. Quite an affair.\"\n\nVulcan said: \"Ah,\" and reclined again.\n\nHera leaned forward. \"Where's Apollo? He said he might come.\"\n\n\"Sure he did,\" Mars said heavily. \"Old Sunshine Boy never misses a bit\nof excitement. Only he probably found something even more exciting. He's\nin California, all dressed up as a mortal.\"\n\n\"California?\" Ceres said. \"My goodness, what would that boy be doing in\nCalifornia?\"\n\nMars guffawed. \"Probably showing off--how Sunshine Boy loves to show\noff! Displaying that gorgeous body to the girls on Muscle Beach, I'll\nbet.\"\n\n\"Eight to five,\" Pan said at once.\n\nMars turned to him and nodded shortly. \"Done.\"\n\n\"Now, if I were a betting man,\" Vulcan began in a thoughtful bass,\n\"I'd--\"\n\n\"We all know what you'd do, Gimpy,\" Mars roared. \"But you won't do it,\nso shut up about it.\"\n\n\"Please,\" Hera said. \"Order.\" Her voice was like chilled steel. The\nothers settled back. \"I think we're ready. Shall we begin, dear?\" She\nlooked at Zeus, who got ready to start. But before he could get a word\nout, there was a flicker of blue energy in the room, a couple of yards\naway from Forrester and Venus. The flicker expanded to a Veil, and a man\nstepped out of it.\n\nHe was a short, fat individual wearing a _chiton_ as if he had slept in\nit for three or four weeks. His face was puffy and his golden hair was\nruffled. His eyelids seemed to have acquired a permanent half-mast, and\nbeneath them the eyes were bleary and disinterested.\n\nForrester needed no introductions to Morpheus, the God of Sleep.\n\nThe God looked around at the assembled company with a kindly little\nsmile on his tired face. Then, slowly and luxuriously, he yawned. When\nhis mouth closed again, after a view of caverns measureless to man, he\nrubbed at his eyes with his knuckles, and then heaved a great sigh and,\napparently, resigned himself to the terrible effort of speech.\n\n\"I'm late,\" he said. \"But it's really not my fault.\"\n\n\"Oh?\" Hera said in a nasty tone of voice.\n\nMorpheus shook his head slowly from side to side. \"It really isn't.\" His\nvoice was terribly calm. It was obvious, Forrester thought, that he did\nnot give a damn. \"The alarm just didn't seem to go off again. Or else I\ndidn't hear it.\"\n\n\"Now, Morpheus,\" Hera said. \"I should think you'd get some kind of alarm\nthat really worked, after all this time.\"\n\n\"Why bother?\" Morpheus said, and shrugged ponderously. \"Anyhow, I'm\nhere.\" He yawned again. \"The thing's tiresome, but I did say I'd be\nhere, and here I am. Now, does that satisfy everybody? Because if it\ndoesn't, I do have some sleep to catch up on.\"\n\n\"It satisfies us all,\" Hera said with some asperity. \"Go sit down.\"\n\nMorpheus shambled quietly over to a couch near Mars. He lowered himself\nonto it, and slowly slipped from a sitting position to a reclining one.\n\n\"Well,\" Hera said to Zeus, \"we're ready, dear.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" Zeus said. \"Oh. Certainly. I declare this meeting--I declare this\nmeeting fully met.\" He cleared his throat with a rumble that shook the\nair. \"We're here, as I suppose you all know, to consider the problem of\nWilliam Forrester. But first, I am reminded of a little story I picked\nup on Earth, and in the hopes that some of you here might not have heard\nit, I--\"\n\n\"We've heard it,\" Hera said, \"and, anyhow, this is neither the time nor\nthe place.\"\n\nZeus turned to look at her. He shrugged. \"Very well,\" he said equably.\n\"Let us return to William Forrester, as a possible substitute for\nDionysus. The first consideration ought to be the psychological records,\nwouldn't you say?\"\n\n\"I would,\" Hera said through her teeth.\n\n\"I believe Athena is in charge of that department, and if she is ready\nto report--\"\n\n\"Of course she's ready,\" Hera said, \"dear.\"\n\nZeus nodded. \"Well, then, what are we waiting for?\"\n\nAthena got up and faced the company. \"In general,\" she began at once, \"I\nthink we can pass the candidate completely on the psychological records.\nThe Index of Subordination is low, but we don't want one too high for\nthis post. Too, the Beta curve shows a good deal of variation, a\nDionysian characteristic. There is, perhaps, a stronger sense of\nresponsibility than is recorded in the Dionysian index, but this may not\nbe a handicap.\"\n\n\"By no means,\" Hera said. \"Responsibility is something we could all do\nwith more of, around here.\" She shot a poisonous glance at Morpheus,\nwhose eyes were now completely closed.\n\nForrester, busily wondering what his Beta curve was, and why it varied,\nand what he would do if he lost it and had to get another one, missed\nthe next few words of Athena's report. The word that did impinge on his\nconsciousness did so with a shock.\n\n\"Sex,\" Athena said. \"But, after all, that is not quite in my\ndepartment.\" She looked as if she were very glad of the fact. \"In\ngeneral, as I say, the psychological tests present no insuperable\nbarriers.\"\n\n\"Fine,\" Hera said. She dug Zeus in the ribs again.\n\n\"Oh,\" Zeus said. \"Yes. Fine.\"\n\n\"Next,\" Hera said.\n\n\"Yes,\" Zeus said. \"By all means. Next.\"\n\nMars got up. He was now scratching the hair on his chest. He looked\naround at the others with a definitely unfriendly expression.\n\n\"The physical department is mine,\" he said. \"The candidate can handle\nhimself, all right. There isn't much doubt of it.\" He burped, wiped his\nmouth with the back of one hand, and went on: \"Of course, he's let\nhimself run to fat a little here and there, but it isn't really serious.\nMainly a matter of glandular balance or something like that, as far as I\nunderstand Hermes' report.\"\n\nForrester began to feel like a prize chicken.\n\n\"And physical training,\" Mars said. \"Well, there hasn't _been_ any\ntraining, that's all. And that's bad.\"\n\n\"He is not being considered for your position,\" Vulcan said. \"One\nmuscular brainless imbecile is enough.\"\n\nMars took a deep breath.\n\n\"Please,\" Hera said. \"Continue the report.\"\n\nThe breath came out in an explosion. \"All right,\" Mars said.\n\"Discounting the training end of things, and assuming that Hermes can\nfix up the glandular mess, I think he can pass the physical.\"\n\nForrester wasn't sure that he liked being referred to as a glandular\nmess. On the other hand, he asked himself, what could he do about it? He\nstood quietly, wondering what was coming next.\n\nHis worst fears were fulfilled.\n\nVenus stepped forward and gave her report. Basically, it was a codicil,\nof a rather specialized nature, to the physical report. While it was\ngoing on, Forrester glanced at Athena. She looked every bit as\nembarrassed as he felt, and her face wore a look of sheer pain. Once he\nthought she was going to leave the room, but she remained grimly seated\nuntil it was all over.\n\nForrester couldn't figure out, when he thought about it, how the Gods\nhad managed to give him all these tests without his knowing anything\nabout it. But, then, they were supernatural, weren't they? And they had\ntheir own methods. A mortal didn't have to understand them.\n\nForrester wasn't sure he was happy with that idea, but he clung to it.\nIt was the only one he had.\n\nWhen Venus finished her report, there was a little silence.\n\n\"Any other comments?\" Hera whispered to her husband.\n\n\"Ah, yes,\" Zeus said. \"Other comments. If anyone has any other comments\nto make, please make them now. Now is the time to make them.\"\n\nHe sat back. Morpheus stirred slightly and spoke without opening his\neyes or sitting up. \"Sleep,\" he said.\n\nHera said: \"Sleep?\"\n\n\"Very important,\" Morpheus said slowly, \"the candidate sleeps pretty\nwell--soundly, as a matter of fact. The only trouble is that he doesn't\nget enough sleep. But then, no one on this entire crazy world ever\ndoes.\" He yawned and added: \"Not even me.\"\n\nForrester passed a hand over his forehead. He realized, very suddenly,\nthat he had come to a conclusion somewhere during the meeting. He was,\nhe told himself, definitely sane.\n\nThat left another conclusion. He was not dreaming anything that was\nhappening. It was all perfectly real.\n\nAnd he was about to become a demi-God.\n\nThat in itself didn't sound so bad. But he began to wonder, in a quiet\nsort of way, just what was going to happen to William Forrester,\nacolyte and history professor, when Forrester/Bacchus had became a\nreality. With a blunt shock he knew that there was only one answer.\n\nWilliam Forrester was going to die.\n\nIt didn't matter what the verdict of the Gods was. There were more tests\ncoming, he knew, and if he failed them the Gods would kill him quite\nliterally and quite completely.\n\nBut, he went on, suppose he passed the tests.\n\nIn that case he was going to become Forrester/Bacchus, a substitute God.\nPlain old Bill Forrester would cease to exist entirely.\n\nOh, a few traces might remain--his Beta curve, for instance, whatever\nthat was. But Bill Forrester would be gone. Somehow, the idea of a\nrevenant Beta curve didn't make up for the basic loss.\n\nOn the other hand, he reminded himself again, what choice did he have?\n\nNone.\n\nHe forced himself to listen to what the Gods were saying.\n\nZeus cleared his throat. \"Well, I think that closes the subject. Am I\nright, dear?\"\n\n\"You are,\" Hera said.\n\n\"Very well,\" Zeus said. \"Then the subject is closed, isn't it?\"\n\nHera nodded wearily.\n\n\"In that case, we can proceed with the investiture. Hephaestus, will you\nplease take charge of the candidate?\"\n\nHephaestus/Vulcan sighed softly. \"I suppose I must.\" He swung off the\ncouch and stood half-crouched for a second. Forrester looked at him\nblankly. \"Well,\" Vulcan said, \"come on.\" He jerked his head toward\nForrester. \"Over here.\"\n\nWith one last backward glance at Venus, Forrester walked across the\nroom. Vulcan turned and hobbled ahead of him toward the wall. Forrester\nfollowed until, almost at the wall, a Veil of Heaven appeared. Feeling\nalmost used to the thing by now, Forrester followed Vulcan through, and\nhe didn't even look behind him to see if the Veil had vanished after\nthey'd come through. He knew perfectly well it had. It always did.\n\nThe room they had entered was similar to the others he had seen, but\nthere was no change of colors. The walls glowed evenly and with a\nsubdued light that filled the room evenly. And, for the first time, the\nwalls weren't simply blanks that became things only when approached. The\nstrangest-looking objects Forrester had ever seen filled benches,\ntables, chairs and the floor, and some were even tacked to the glowing\nwalls. He stared at them for a long time.\n\nNo two were alike. They seemed to be all sizes, shapes and materials.\nThe only thing they really had in common was that they were\nunrecognizable. They looked, Forrester thought, as if a truckload of\nnon-objective twentieth-century sculpture had collided with another\ntruck full of old television-set innards. Then, in some way, the two\ntrucks had fallen in love and had children.\n\nThe scrambled horrors scattered throughout the room were, Forrester told\nhimself bleakly, the children.\n\nVulcan sat down on the only empty chair with a sigh. \"This is my\nworkshop,\" he announced gravely. \"It is not arranged for visitors, nor\nfor the curious. I must advise you to touch nothing, if you wish to save\nyour hands, your sanity, and very possibly your life.\"\n\nForrester nodded dumbly. Vulcan's tone hadn't been unfriendly; he had\nmerely been warning a stranger, in the shortest and clearest manner\npossible, against the dangers of feeling the merchandise. Not, Forrester\nthought, that the warning was necessary. He would as soon have thought\nof trying to fly as he would of touching one of the mixed-up looking\nthings.\n\n\"Now,\" Vulcan said, \"if you'll--\" He stopped. \"Pardon me,\" he said, and\nlevered himself upright. He went to a chair, swept a few constructions\nfrom it and put them carefully on a table. \"Sit down,\" he said,\nmotioning to the chair.\n\nGingerly, Forrester sat down.\n\nVulcan returned to his own chair and climbed onto it. \"Now let us get to\nbusiness.\"\n\n\"Business?\" Forrester said.\n\n\"Oh, yes,\" Vulcan said. \"I imagine you were pretty well bewildered for a\nwhile. No more than natural. But I think you've figured it out by now.\nYou know you are going to be given the powers of a demi-God, don't you?\"\n\n\"Yes. But--\"\n\n\"Do not worry about it,\" Vulcan said. \"The powers are--simply powers.\nThey are not burdens. At any rate, they will not be burdensome to you.\nWe know that--we have researched you to a fine point, as you may have\ngathered from the fol-de-rol back there.\" He gestured toward his right,\nevidently indicating the Court of the Gods.\n\n\"But,\" Forrester said, \"suppose I'm not what your tests say. I mean,\nsuppose I--\"\n\n\"There is no need for supposition. Beyond any shadow of doubt, we know\nhow you, as a mortal, will react to any conceivable set of\ncircumstances.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" Forrester said. \"But--\"\n\n\"Precisely. You have realized what yet needs to be done. We know what\nyour abilities and limitations are--_as a mortal_. The tests you have\nyet to pass are concerned with your actions and reactions as a\ndemi-God.\"\n\nForrester swallowed hard. He felt as if he were on a moving\nroller-coaster. No matter how badly he wanted to get off, it was\nimpossible to do so. He had to remain while the car hurtled on.\n\nAnd where was he going?\n\nThe Gods, he told himself with more than ordinary meaning, knew.\n\n\"The power which is to be infused into you,\" Vulcan said, \"if you don't\nmind the loose terminology--\"\n\n\"I don't mind in the least,\" Forrester assured him earnestly. \"Not in\nthe least.\"\n\n\"The power infused into you will make some changes. These will not only\nbe physical changes. Mental changes must be expected.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" Forrester said. \"Mental changes.\"\n\n\"Correct. Physically, you see, you will become what no mortal can ever\nquite be: a perfectly functioning biological engine. Every sinew, nerve\nand muscle, every organ and gland, every tissue in your body will be in\nperfect harmonic balance with every other. Metabolically speaking, your\ncatabolism and anabolism will be in such perfect balance that aging will\nnot be possible.\"\n\nForrester thought that over. \"I'll be immortal,\" he said.\n\n\"In that sense of the word,\" Vulcan said, \"you will. You will be, as a\nmatter of fact, quite a good deal tougher, stronger and harder than any\nanimal now existing on the face of the Earth. I must except, of course,\na few of the really big ones, like the elephant and the killer whale.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" Forrester said. \"Sure.\"\n\n\"But make no mistake. You can still be killed. A bullet through the\nheart will not do the job; it will merely incapacitate you for a few\nhours. But if you were to have your head blown off by a grenade, you\nwould be quite dead. Remember that.\"\n\n\"I don't see how I could forget it.\"\n\n\"You will heal with incredible rapidity, but there are limitations.\nAnything that pushes the balance too far will be fatal. You can lose a\nhand or even an arm without serious harm; the missing member will be\nregrown. But if you were to fall into a large meat-grinder--\"\n\n\"I get the idea,\" Forrester said, feeling pale green.\n\n\"Good,\" Vulcan said. \"However, there is more.\"\n\n\"_More?_\"\n\n\"There are certain other powers to be given you in addition. You will\nlearn of these later.\"\n\nForrester nodded blankly.\n\n\"Now,\" Vulcan said, \"all these physical changes will have a definite\neffect upon your psychological outlook, as I imagine you can plainly\nsee.\"\n\nForrester thought about it. \"Well--\"\n\n\"Let us suppose that you are a coward who has avoided fights all his\nlife. Now you are given these powers. What will happen?\"\n\n\"I'll be strong.\"\n\n\"Exactly. You will be strong. And because you are strong, and almost\nindestructible, you suddenly decide that you can now get your revenge on\nthe people who have pushed you around.\"\n\n\"Well,\" Forrester said, \"I--\"\n\n\"You begin to look for fights,\" Vulcan said. \"You go around beating up\neveryone you can find, simply because you now know you can get away with\nit. Do you understand me?\"\n\n\"I guess so.\"\n\n\"A man with a vicious streak in him would be intolerable in this\nposition. Can you see that? Take an example: Ares. Mars is a tough God,\nhard and at times brutal. But he is not vicious.\"\n\nForrester was a little surprised to hear Vulcan say anything nice about\nMars. He knew, as everyone did, the long history of ill-will and\npositive hatred the two had built up between them. It had begun soon\nafter Vulcan's marriage to Aphrodite/Venus.\n\nHe hadn't been a cripple then, of course. For a while, he and Venus had\nhad a fine time. But Venus, apparently, just wasn't satisfied with the\ndull normal routine of married life. None of the Gods seemed to be, as a\nmatter of fact. Either they were altogether too married, like Zeus, or\nelse they weren't married enough, like Venus. Or else they were like\nDiana and Athena, indifferent to marriage.\n\nAt any rate, Venus had begun looking around for fresh talent. And the\nfresh talent had been right there ready to sign up for a long contract\non a strictly extra-legal basis.\n\nOne day Vulcan caught them at it, his wife and Mars. Vulcan was angry,\nbut Mars didn't exactly like to be interrupted, either, and he was a\nlittle faster on the draw. He tossed Vulcan over a nearby cliff,\ncrippling him for good.\n\nAnd as for Aphrodite--who knew? It was entirely possible that, by this\ntime, the Goddess of Love had run through the entire list of Gods and\nwas now at work on the mortals.\n\nForrester wasn't entirely sure he disliked the idea, on a simple\nphysical level. But there was more than that to it, of course; there was\nVulcan. Forrester found himself liking the solemn, positive workman. He\ndidn't want to hurt him.\n\nAnd a liaison with Venus was certain to do just that.\n\nHe came back to the present to hear Vulcan still discoursing. \"Also,\"\nthe God said, \"changes in glandular balance must be made. These changes\nhave a necessary effect on the brain. The personality changes subtly,\nthough I can assure you that the change is not a marked one.\" He paused.\n\"For all these reasons,\" he finished, \"I am sure that you can see why we\nmust subject you to further tests.\"\n\n\"I understand,\" Forrester said vaguely.\n\n\"Good. Now, you will not know whether a given incident--any given\nincident--is a perfectly natural occurrence or a test imposed on you by\nthe Pantheon. Can you understand that?\"\n\nForrester nodded.\n\nVulcan levered himself upright, his ugly face smiling just a little.\n\"And remember what I have told you. No worrying. You don't even know\njust what any given test is supposed to accomplish, so you can't know\nwhether the action you choose is right or wrong. Therefore, worrying\nwill do nothing for you. You will be at your best if you simply behave\nnaturally.\"\n\n\"I'll try.\"\n\n\"Remember, also, that you were picked not merely for your physical\nresemblance to Dionysus, but your psychological resemblance as well.\nTherefore, playing his part should be comparatively simple for you.\nRight?\"\n\n\"I guess so,\" Forrester said, feeling both expectant and a little\nhopeless about it all.\n\n\"Fine,\" Vulcan said. \"Now wait one moment.\" He turned and limped over to\na structure that looked like a sort of worktable. When he came back, he\nwas carrying several objects in his big hands. He selected one, an ovoid\nabout the size of a marble, colored a dull orange, and handed it to\nForrester. \"Swallow that.\"\n\nForrester took it cautiously. As soon as he found out what he was\nsupposed to do with the thing, its dimensions seemed to grow. It looked\nabout the size of a golf ball in his shaking hands.\n\n\"_Swallow_ it?\" he said tentatively.\n\n\"Correct,\" Vulcan said.\n\n\"But--\"\n\n\"This object is a--well, call it a talisman. It will not dissolve, and\nit is recoverable, but for the Investiture it must be inside you.\"\n\n\"But--\"\n\n\"You will find it so easy to swallow that you will need no water. Go\nahead.\"\n\nForrester put the thing in his mouth and swallowed once, just to test\nVulcan's statement. The effect was surprising. He could barely feel it\nleave his tongue, and he couldn't feel it go down at all. He swallowed\nagain, experimentally, and explored the inside of his mouth with his\ntongue.\n\n\"It is gone,\" Vulcan said. \"Good.\"\n\n\"It's gone, all right,\" Forrester said wonderingly.\n\n\"The sandals are next.\" Vulcan selected a pair of sandals with rather\nthick soles and handed them over. They were apparently made of gold.\nForrester obediently strapped them on, and Vulcan next handed him a pair\nof golden cylinders indented to fit his curved fingers.\n\n\"You hold these very tightly,\" Vulcan said. \"During the Investiture, you\nmust grip them as hard as you can.\" He peered closely at them and\npointed to one. \"This one goes in the left hand. The other goes in the\nright. Squeeze them as if--as if you were trying to crush them. All\nright?\"\n\n\"All right,\" Forrester said.\n\nVulcan nodded. \"Good. From this moment on, do exactly as you are told.\nAnswer questions truthfully. Keep nothing secret. Remember my\ninstructions.\"\n\n\"Right,\" Forrester said doubtfully.\n\n\"Come on,\" Vulcan said, heading for the wall. The inevitable Veil of\nHeaven appeared, and Forrester followed through it as before.\n\nThe room they entered was not, he thought, the same one they had been in\nbefore. Or, if it was, it had changed a great deal. It was difficult to\ntell anything for sure; the shifting walls looked the same, but they\nalso looked like the shifting walls in Venus' apartments.\n\nAt any rate, there were now no couches on the floor. The room seemed\neven bigger than before, and when the walls settled down to a steady\ngolden glow, Forrester felt lost in the immensity of the place. In the\ncenter of the room was a raised golden dais. It was about five feet\nacross and nearly three feet high.\n\nThe Gods were ranged around it in a semicircle, facing him. Vulcan\nslipped into an empty space in the line, and Forrester stood perfectly\nalone, holding the cylinders.\n\nZeus cleared his throat. \"Step up on the dais,\" he said.\n\nStumbling slightly, Forrester managed to do so without losing his grip\non the cylinders.\n\nIn the center of the raised platform, with the Gods staring at him, he\nfelt like something under a microscope.\n\n\"William Forrester,\" Zeus said, and he shuddered. The All-Father's voice\nhad never been more powerful. \"William Forrester, from this moment\nonward you will renounce your present name. You will be known as\nDionysus the Lesser until and unless it shall please us to confer\nanother name on you. Henceforth, you will be, in part, a recipient of\nthe worship due to Dionysus, and you will hold the rank of demi-God. Do\nyou accept these judgments and this honor?\"\n\nForrester gulped. A long time seemed to pass. At last he found his\nvoice. \"I do,\" he said.\n\n\"Very well,\" Zeus said.\n\nThe Gods joined hands and closed the circle around Forrester,\nsurrounding him completely. The golden auras that shone about their\nbodies grew more and more bright. Forrester clutched the golden\ncylinders tightly.\n\nThen, very suddenly, there was an explosion of light. Forrester thought\nhe had staggered, but he was never sure. Everything was too bright to\nsee. Dizziness began, and grew.\n\nThe room whirled and tipped. Somewhere a great organlike note began, and\nwent on and on.\n\nForrester convulsed with the force of a single great burst of energy\nthat crashed through his nervous system.\n\nAnd then, in a timeless instant, everything went black.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER SEVEN\n\n\nThe morning of the Autumn Bacchanal dawned bright and clear--thanks to\nthe intervention of the Pantheon. In New York, the leaves were only just\nbeginning to turn, and the sun was still high enough in the sky to make\nthe afternoons warm and pleasant. Zeus All-Father had promised good\nweather for the festival, and a strong, warm wind from the Gulf of\nMexico was moving out the crisp autumn air before the sun had risen an\nhour above the horizon.\n\nThe practicing that had gone on in thousands of homes throughout the\ncity was at an end. The Autumn Bacchanal was here at last, and the\nBeginning Service, which had started in the little Temple-on-the-Green\nright at dawn, when the sun's rays had first touched the tops of New\nYork's towers, was approaching its end. The people clustered in the\nbuilding, and the incomparably greater number scattered outside it, were\nfeeling the first itch of restlessness.\n\nSoon the Grand Procession would begin, starting as always from the\nTemple-on-the-Green and wending its slow way northward to the upper end\nof Central Park at 110th Street. Then the string of worshippers would\nturn and head back for the Temple at the lower end of the Park, with\nfanfare and pageantry on a scale calculated to do honor to the God of\nthe festival, to outshine not only every other festival, but every past\nyear of the Autumn Bacchanal itself.\n\nThe Autumn Bacchanal was devoted to the celebration of the harvest, and\nmore specifically the harvest and processing of the grape. All the\nwineries for hundreds of miles around had shipped hogshead after\nhogshead and barrel after barrel of fine wine--red, white, rose, still,\nor sparkling--as joyous sacrifice to Dionysus/Bacchus, and in thanks\nthat the fertility rites of the Vernal Bacchanal had brought them good\ncrops. Wine flowed from everywhere into the city, and now the immense\nreserves were stacked away, awaiting the revels. Even the brewers and\ndistillers had sent along their wares, from the mildest beer to vodka of\n120 proof, joining unselfishly in the celebration even though,\ntechnically, they were not under Dionysian protection at all, but were\nthe wards of Ceres, the Goddess of grain.\n\nCelebrants, liquors, chants, preparations, balloons, confetti, edibles\nand all the other appurtenances of the festival spiraled dizzyingly\nupward, reaching proportions unheard of throughout history. And, in a\nback room at the Temple-on-the-Green, the late William Forrester sat,\ntrying to forget all about them, and suffering from a continuous case of\nnerves.\n\nDiana marched up and down in front of him, smacking her left fist into\nher calloused little right palm. \"Now listen,\" she said crisply. \"I know\nyou're all hot and bothered, kid, but there's no reason to be. You're\ndoing fine. They love you out there.\"\n\n\"Sure I am,\" Forrester said, unconvinced.\n\n\"Well, you are,\" Diana said. \"You just got to have confidence, that's\nall. Keep your spirits up. Tried singing?\"\n\n\"Singing?\"\n\n\"Singing, kid. Raises the spirits.\"\n\nForrester blinked. \"Really?\"\n\n\"Take it from me,\" Diana said. \"How about Tenting Tonight?\"\n\n\"How about what?\"\n\n\"Tenting Tonight,\" Diana said. \"You know.\"\n\n\"I--guess I do.\" Forrester wished that Diana would do more than treat\nhim like a pal. She was a remarkably beautiful woman, if you liked the\ntype, and Forrester liked virtually any type.\n\nNow, success appeared to be within his grasp. But it did seem an odd\ntime to bring the subject up. Oh, well, he thought, maybe she was just\ntrying to cheer him up and had picked this way of doing it.\n\nIt worked, too, he told himself happily.\n\nHe cleared his throat. \"Where?\"\n\nDiana stared. \"Where?\"\n\n\"That's right,\" Forrester said. Something was going wrong but he\ncouldn't discover what it was. \"The tenting.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" Diana said. \"Right here. Now. Raises the spirits.\"\n\n\"I should say it does!\" Forrester agreed enthusiastically. \"But after\nall--right here--\"\n\n\"Don't worry about it, kid. Nobody will hear you.\"\n\n\"_Hear_ me?\"\n\n\"Anyway, it's nothing to be ashamed of. Lots of people do it when they\nfeel low.\"\n\n\"I'll bet they do,\" Forrester said. \"But it's different with you and\nme.\"\n\n\"Me?\" Diana said. \"What do I have to do with it? I just told you--\"\n\n\"Well, sure. And here and now is as good a time and place as any.\"\n\nDiana stepped back a pace. \"Okay, let's hear it. Sing!\"\n\n\"Sing? You mean I have to sing for my--\"\n\n\"I'll join you,\" Diana said.\n\nForrester nodded. He was beginning to get confused. \"You'd better,\" he\nsaid.\n\n\"_Tenting tonight on the old camp grounds_,\" she sang. \"Now come on.\"\n\nForrester coughed. \"Oh,\" he said. \"Sing.\"\n\n\"Sure,\" Diana said, and they went through the song together. \"How about\nanother chorus?\" she asked.\n\n\"It's all right, Diana,\" Forrester said, knowing she preferred the name\nto her Greek one of Artemis. \"I feel fine now.\"\n\n\"Well,\" Diana said in a disappointed voice, \"all right.\"\n\nWhat surprised Forrester most was that he _did_ feel fine. All the Gods\nhad helped him in the past several months, but Diana had been especially\nhelpful. As a forest Goddess, and as Protectress of the Night, she'd\nbeen able to tell him a lot about how an orgy was arranged. He had often\nwished that she would teach by example, but now, he discovered, it was\ntoo late for wishing.\n\nShe was, he told himself with only faint regret, just like a sister to\nhim. Or even a brother.\n\n\"I guess everything will be okay,\" he said. \"Won't it?\"\n\nDiana clapped him on the back. \"You're going to be great. Just go out\nthere and show 'em what kind of a God you are.\"\n\n\"But what kind of a God am I?\"\n\n\"Just keep cool, kid. You won't fail me--I know it.\"\n\n\"I'll try,\" Forrester said. \"Only I'm getting nervous just sitting\naround here. I wish we could go out and stroll around; we've got plenty\nof time, anyhow.\"\n\nDiana nodded. \"It's ten minutes yet before the Procession starts. I\nsuppose we might as well take a look around, kid, if it makes you feel\nbetter.\"\n\n\"It might.\"\n\n\"Fine, then. But how do you want to go?\"\n\nForrester blinked. \"How?\"\n\n\"Invisibility,\" Diana said, \"or incognito?\"\n\n\"Oh,\" Forrester said. Then he added: \"You're asking me?\"\n\n\"Of course I am, kid. Now, look: this is your celebration, remember?\nYou're Dionysus. Got it? Even in my presence, you act the part now. You\nought to know that.\"\n\n\"Well, sure, but--\"\n\n\"Keep this in mind. These people haven't had a Sabbatical Bacchanal in\nseven years. Every seven years they get to see their God--and this year\nyou're it. Right?\"\n\n\"I guess so. But--\"\n\n\"No buts,\" Diana said. \"You're the boss and they're your worshippers.\nThat's all there is to it. Now, you've got to make up your mind. What'll\nit be?\"\n\nForrester thought. \"Well,\" he said at last, \"I guess it had better be\nincognito. With this crowd, there's too much likelihood of getting\nbumped into if we're invisible. Right?\"\n\nDiana grinned. \"That's the boy! You're thinking straight now!\"\n\nForrester had the sudden feeling that he had just passed another test.\nBut he didn't quite dare ask about it \"All right,\" he said instead.\n\"Let's go.\"\n\nHe put his mind to work concentrating on the special faculties that his\ndemi-God power gave him. His face began to change. He looked less and\nless like Dionysus as the seconds went by, and more and more like\nWilliam Forrester. At the same time, the golden aura around his body\nbegan to fade. After a few minutes he looked like William Forrester\ncompletely, a nice enough guy but pretty much of a nonentity.\n\nDiana, with the greater power of a true Goddess, achieved the same sort\nof result almost instantly. Her aura was gone and the sparkle had left\nher eyes. Her brown hair looked a little mousy now, and her face was\nmerely pretty instead of being gloriously beautiful.\n\n\"Just one thing,\" Forrester said. \"We'd better make ourselves invisible\njust to leave the Temple. Somebody might suspect we weren't ordinary\npeople at all.\"\n\n\"Right again,\" Diana smiled. She nodded her head and blinked out.\n\nForrester could still see a cloudy outline of her in the room, but he\nknew that was because he was a demi-God, with special powers. An\nordinary mortal, he knew, would see nothing at all.\n\nHe followed her into invisibility and walked out the back door of the\nTemple-on-the-Green. The door was open and two Temple Myrmidons, wearing\nthe golden grape-clusters of Dionysus on their shoulder patches, stood\noutside the door. Neither of them saw Forrester and Diana leave.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThree minutes later, they were standing near the doorway of the Temple,\nwatching the preparations for the Grand Procession. The fifty priests of\nDionysus gathered there while the enormous crowd pushed and shoved to\nget a better view of the ritual. The sacrifice of the first fruits had\nbeen completed, and now, at the door of the Temple, each of the fifty\npriests filled a chalice from a huge hogshead of purple wine.\n\nThey chanted a prayer in unison and spilled half the wine on the ground\nas a libation. Then they lifted the chalices to their lips and drank,\nfinishing the other half in one long motion.\n\nThe chalices were set down, and a cheer rose from the crowd.\n\nThe Bacchanal had begun!\n\nThe priests separated into two equal groups. Twenty-five of them started\nnorthward, marching to their positions at regularly spaced intervals in\nthe procession. The remaining twenty-five stayed behind, ready to\naccompany Dionysus himself at the tail of the parade.\n\nEach of the other Gods was represented by a special detachment of ten\nMyrmidons, each contingent wearing the distinctive shoulder patch of the\nGod it served: the thunderbolt of Zeus, the blazing sun of Apollo, the\npipes of Pan, the sword of Mars, the hammer of Vulcan, the poppy of\nMorpheus, the winged foot of Mercury, the trident of Neptune, the\ncerberus of Pluto, the peacock of Hera, the owl of Athena, the dove of\nVenus, the crescent of Diana, and the sprig of wheat that represented\nMother Ceres. The Myrmidons grinned in expectation of the good times\ncoming; a Dionysian festival was always something special, and\ncompetition for the contingents was always tough.\n\nThere were balloons everywhere, as the crowd shoved and pushed into the\nline of march. Someone was bawling an old song about the lack of liquor,\nand the strident voice carried over the shouts and halloos of the mob:\n\n\"_How dry I am--_\"\n\nForrester and Diana, now visible, pushed their way through the crowds. A\nman flung his arm around the Goddess with abandon, shouting something\nindistinguishable; Diana shook him off gently and went on. Forrester\nalmost tripped over a small boy sitting on the grass and crying. A\nMyrmidon was standing over him, and the child's mother was trying to\nlift the boy.\n\n\"I wanna go to the orgy,\" the boy kept saying. \"I wanna go to the orgy.\"\n\n\"Next year,\" the mother told him. \"Next year, child, when you're six.\"\n\nThe Myrmidon lifted the child and carried him away. The mother shouted\nan address after him, and the Myrmidon nodded, pushed his way through a\ngesticulating group of celebrants and disappeared in the direction of\nCentral Park West. There, other Dionysian Myrmidons were patrolling,\nmaking sure that no non-Dionysian got in except by special invitation.\nAny non-Dionysian who wanted to celebrate was supposed to do it on the\nstreets of the city, and not in Central Park, which was going to be\ncrowded enough with legitimate revelers.\n\nThe shouting and screaming went on, people pushing and shoving, confetti\nbeginning to drift like a light snow over the worshippers. One man held\nfive balloons and a cigarette, and he was popping the balloons with the\ncigarette tip, one by one. Every time one of the balloons exploded, a\ngroup of women and girls around him shrieked and laughed.\n\nForrester turned back. Behind a convenient bush, he and Diana made\nthemselves invisible again, and re-entered the Temple-on-the-Green.\n\nThe silence inside the Temple was deafening.\n\n\"The noise out there could break eardrums,\" Forrester complained. \"I've\nnever heard anything like it.\"\n\n\"Just wait,\" Diana told him. \"The music will start any time now--and\nthen you'll _really_ hear something.\" She paused. \"Ready?\"\n\nForrester glanced down at himself. \"I guess so. How do I look?\" He had\nconstructed a golden _chiton_ and mentally clothed himself in it. It was\ncovered by a grape-purple cloak embroidered with golden grapevines. And\naround his head a circlet of woven grapevines had appeared, made of\nsolid gold. It was a little heavier than Forrester had expected it would\nbe, but it lent him, he thought, rather a dashing air.\n\n\"Great,\" Diana said. \"Just great.\"\n\n\"Think so?\" Forrester said, feeling rather pleased.\n\n\"Sure you do. Now go out there and give 'em the old college try.\"\n\nForrester gulped. \"How about you?\"\n\n\"Me? I'm on my way out of here. This is your show, kid. Make the most of\nit.\"\n\nForrester watched her go out the rear door. He was alone. And the Autumn\nBacchanal Processional was about to begin.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER EIGHT\n\n\nNoise! Forrester, seated in the great golden palanquin supported by\ntwelve hefty Priests of Dionysus, had never seen or heard anything like\nit. He waited there on the steps of the little Temple-on-the-Green for\nthe Procession to wind by, so that he could take his place at the end of\nit. But the Procession looked endless.\n\nFirst came a corps of Priests and Myrmidons, leading their way stolidly\nthrough the paths of Central Park. Following them came the revelers, a\nmass of men and women marching, laughing, singing, shouting, dancing\ntheir way along to the accompaniment of more music than Forrester had\never dreamed of.\n\nThe Dionysians had practiced for months, and almost everything was\nrepresented. There were violinists prancing along, violists and a crew\nof long-haired gentlemen and ladies playing the viol da gamba and the\nviol d'amore; there were guitarists plunking madly away, banjo players\nstrumming and ukelele addicts picking at their strings, somehow all\nchorusing together. In a special pair of floats there were bass players,\nbass fiddle players and cellists, jammed tightly together and somehow\nmanaging to draw enormous sounds and scratches out of the big\ninstruments. And behind them came the main band of musicians.\n\nThe woodwinds followed: piccolo players piping, flutists fluting, oboe\nplayers, red-cheeked and glassy-eyed, concentrating on making the most\npiercing possible sounds, men playing English horns, clarinets, bass\nclarinets, bassoons and contra-bassoons, along with men playing serpents\nand, behind them, a dancing group fingering ocarinas and adding their\nbit to the general tumult, and two women tootling madly away on\nhoarse-sounding zootibars.\n\nAnd then, near the center of the musicians, were the brass: trumpets and\ntrumpets-a-piston, trombones and valve trombones and Fulk horns, all\nblatting away to split the sky with maddening sound, Sousaphones and\nsaxophones and French horns and bass horns and hunting horns, and tubas\nalong in their own little cart, six round-cheeked men lost in the curves\nof the great instruments, valiantly blowing away as they rolled by into\nthe woods of the park, making the city itself resound with tremendous\nnoise and shattering cadence. And behind them was the battery.\n\nKettle drums, bass drums, xylophones, Chinese gongs, vibraphones, snare\ndrums and high-hat cymbals paraded by in carts, banged and stroked and\ntinkled enthusiastically by crew after crew of maddened tympanists. And\nthen came the others, on foot: tambourines and wood blocks and parade\ncymbals and castanets. At the tail of this portion of the Procession\ncame a single old man wearing spectacles and riding in a small cart\ndrawn by a donkey. He had white hair and he was playing on a series of\nwater-glasses filled to various levels. His ear was cocked toward the\nglasses with painstaking care. He was entirely inaudible in the general\ndin, but he looked happy and satisfied; he was doing his bit.\n\nAfter him followed a group of entirely naked men and women playing\nsackbuts, and another group playing recorders. Bringing up the rear, as\nthe Procession curved, was a magnificent aggregation of men and women\nyowling away on bagpipes of all shapes and sizes. All of the men wore\nsporrans and nothing more; the women wore nothing at all. The music that\nemanated from this group was enough to unhinge the mind.\n\nAnd then came the keyboard instruments, into the middle of which the\nfive theremin-players had been stuck for no reason at all. The strange\nhowls of this unearthly instrument filtered through the sound of pianos,\nharpsichords, psalters, clavichords, virginals and three gigantic\nelectric organs pumping at full strength.\n\nAnd bringing up the very rear of the Procession was a special decorated\ncart, full of color and holding a lone man with long white hair, wearing\na rusty black suit and playing away, with great attention and care, on\nthe largest steam calliope Forrester had ever met. Jets of steam fizzed\nout of the top, and music bawled from the interior of the massive thing\nas it went by, trailing the Procession into the woods, and the entire\naggregation swung into a single song, hundred upon hundreds of musicians\nand singers all coming down hard on the opening strains of the Hymn to\nDionysus:\n\n    \"_Mine eyes have seen the glory of the Lord who rules the wine--\n    He has trampled out the vintage of the grapes upon the vine!_\"\n\nThe twelve Priests picked up the palanquin and Forrester adjusted his\nweight so they wouldn't find it too heavy. It was impossible to think in\nthe mass of noise and music that went on and on, as the Procession wound\nuptown through the paths of Central Park, and the musicians banged and\nscraped and blew and pounded and stroked and plucked, and the great Hymn\nrose into the air, filling the entire city with the bawled chorus as\neven the twelve Priests joined in, adding to the ear-splitting din:\n\n    \"_Glory, Glory, Dionysus!\n    Glory, Glory, Dionysus!\n    Glory, Glory, Dionysus!\n    While his wine goes flowing on!_\"\n\nForrester had always been disturbed by what he thought might have been a\ndouble meaning in that last line, but it didn't disturb him now. Nothing\nseemed to disturb him as the Procession wound on, and he was laughing\nuproariously and winking and nodding at his worshippers as they sang and\nplayed all around him, and the hours went by. Halfway there, he fished\nin the air and brought down the small golden disks with the picture of\nDionysus on them that were a regular feature of the Processional, and\nflung them happily into the crowd ahead.\n\nOnly one was allowed per person, so there was not much scrambling, but\nsome of the coins pattered down on the various instruments, and one\nlanded in the old gentleman's middle-C water glass and had to be fished\nout before he could go on with the Hymn.\n\nCarousing and noisy, the Procession finally reached the huge stand at\nthe far end of the park, and the music stopped. On the stand was a whole\nnew group of musicians: harpists, lyrists, players of the flageolet and\ndulcimer, two men sweating over glockenspiels, a group equipped with\nzithers and citharas and sitars, three women playing nose-flutes, two\nmen with shofars, and a tall, blond man playing a clarino trumpet. As\nthe Procession ground to a halt, this new band struck up the Hymn again,\nplayed it through twice, and then stopped.\n\nSeven girls filed out onto the platform in front of the musicians. One\nwas there representing every year since the last Sabbatical Bacchanal.\nForrester, riding high on the palanquin, beamed down at them, roaring\nwith happy laughter. They were all for him. Having been carried to one\nend of the park in triumph, he was now to march back at the head of his\npeople, surrounded by seven of the most beautiful girls in New York.\n\nTheir final selection had been left, he knew, to a brewery which had\nexperience in these matters. And the girls certainly looked like the\npick of anybody's crop. Forrester beamed at them again, stood up in the\npalanquin and spread his arms wide.\n\nThen he sprang. In a flying leap, he went high into the air and did a\nfull somersault, landing on his toes on the stage, twenty-five feet\naway. The girls were kneeling in a circle around him.\n\n\"Come, my doves!\" he bellowed. \"Come, my pigeons!\" His Godlike golden\nbaritone carried for blocks.\n\nHe grabbed the two nearest girls by their hands and helped them to their\nfeet. They blushed and lowered their eyes.\n\n\"Come, all of you!\" Forrester shouted. \"We are about to begin the\nrevels!\"\n\nThe girls rose and Forrester gestured them in closer. Then, surrounded\nby all seven, he threw back his head again.\n\n\"A revel to make history!\" he roared. \"A revel beyond the imagination of\nman! A revel fit for your God!\"\n\nThe crowd cheered wildly. Forrester picked up one of the girls, tossed\nher into the air and caught her easily as she descended. He set her on\nher feet and put his hands solidly on his hips.\n\n\"My cup!\" he shouted. \"Fill you my cup!\"\n\nBehind the stage was a corps of Priests guarding a mountainous golden\nhogshead of wine, adjudged the finest wine produced during the year.\n\n\"We shall have drink!\" Forrester shouted. \"We shall let the revels roar\non!\"\n\nTwo priests came forward, staggering under the weight of a gigantic\ncrystal goblet containing fully two gallons of the clear purple liquid.\nThey bore it to Forrester with great pomp, and before them came a dozen\nplayers on the gahoon and the contra-gahoon, making Forrester's ears\nring with deafening fanfares.\n\nForrester took the great goblet in one hand and held it with ease. Then\nhe lifted it into the air with a wordless shout, filled his lungs and\nlaughed. He put the goblet to his lips and drained it in a single long\nmotion. A mighty hurrah shook the trees and rocks of the park.\n\nForrester waved the goblet. \"Again. Fill you my cup once more!\" He\nembraced the seven girls with one sweeping gesture of his arms. \"My\nlittle beauties must have drink! Fill you the cup!\"\n\nHe passed it back to the Priests carefully. They received it and went\nback to where the others were waiting to fill it. Then they staggered\nforward again and Forrester picked up the brimming goblet. He held it\nfor the girls, each of whom tried to outdrink the others. But it was\nstill more than half-full when they were finished.\n\nForrester raised it again. The crowd shouted. \"Observe your God!\"\nForrester roared. \"Observe his powers!\" He threw his head back and\nemptied the goblet. Then, holding it in one hand, he faced the\nassemblage and delivered himself of one Godlike belch.\n\nThe crowd shrieked its approval. Forrester had the goblet filled once\nmore and put three of the girls in charge of it. Then he came down the\nsteps from the platform and began the long march back to the\nTemple-on-the-Green.\n\nThe shouting, carousing revelers followed him joyfully. Halfway back,\none of them stumbled forward and caught at the trailing edge of his\nrobe. There was an immediate crackle and burst of static electricity,\nand the stumbler fell back yelping and shaking his arms. The Myrmidons\ncame and took him away.\n\nDionysus couldn't be touched by anyone except those authorized to do\nso--the seven girls and the Priests. But Forrester barely noticed the\naccident; he was too happy on top of his world, laughing and hugging the\ngirls close to him.\n\nBehind him, the Priests at the golden hogshead, now set free to taste\nthe wine themselves, had lost no time. They were dipping in busily with\ntheir own goblets--a good deal smaller than the two-gallon crystal one\nfor Dionysus himself. There was not even any need for libations; enough\nran over the brimming edges of the goblets to take care of that detail,\nand the Priests were soon well on the way to becoming sozzled.\n\nThe musicians, now joined by the corps which had waited on the uptown\nstage, struck up a new tune, and drowned out even the shouting crowds as\nthey cheered their God. After a little while, the crowds began to sing\nalong with the magnificent noise:\n\n    \"_Dionysus wrapped his hand around the goblet,\n    Around the goblet--around the goblet--\n    Dionysus wrapped his hand around the goblet,\n    And we'll all get--stinking drunk!_\"\n\nIt was by no means an official hymn, but Forrester didn't mind; it was\nsung with such a great deal of honest enthusiasm. He himself did not\njoin in the singing; he was otherwise occupied. With his arms around two\nof the girls, drinking now and then from the great goblet three more\nwere holding, and winking and laughing at the extra two, he made his\njoyous way down the petal-strewn paths of Central Park.\n\nThe Procession wound down through the paths, over bridges and under\ntunnels, singing and playing and marching and dancing madly, while\nForrester, at its head, caroused as merrily as any four of them. They\nreached a bridge crossing a little stream and Forrester sprang at it\nwith a great somersaulting leap that carried the two girls he was\nholding right along with him. He set them down at the slope of the\nbridge, laughing and giggling and the other girls, with the Procession\nbehind them, soon caught up. Forrester let go of one of the girls,\ngrabbed the goblet with his free hand and swung it in a magnificent\ngesture.\n\n\"Forward!\" he cried.\n\nThe Procession surged over the bridge, Forrester at its head. He grabbed\nthe girl again, handing the goblet back to his corps of three carriers,\nand bowed and grinned at his worshippers behind him, surging forward,\nand at some others standing under the bridge, ankle-deep, shin-deep,\neven knee-deep in the rushing water, craning their necks upward to get a\nreally good view of their God as he passed over. There were over a\nhundred of them there.\n\nForrester didn't see a hundred of them.\n\nHe saw one of them first, and then two more. And time seemed to stop\nwith a grinding halt. Forrester wanted to run and hide. He clutched the\ngirls closer to him with one instinctive gesture, and then realized he'd\nmade the wrong move. But it was too late. He was lost, he told himself\ndolefully. The sun had gone out, the wine had lost its power and the\ncelebration had degenerated to a succession of ugly noises.\n\nThe first face he saw belonged to Gerda Symes.\n\nIn that timeless instant, Forrester felt that he could see every detail\nof the soft, small face, the dark hair, the slim, curved figure. She was\nsmiling up at him, but her face looked a little bewildered, as if she\nwere smiling only because it was the thing to do. Forrester wondered,\npanic-stricken, how she, an Athenan, had managed to get entry to a\nDionysian revel--but his wonder only lasted for a second. Then he saw\nthe second and third faces, and he knew.\n\nThe second face belonged to an absolute stranger. He looked like an\noafish clod, even viewed objectively, and Forrester was making no\nefforts in that direction. He had one arm around Gerda's waist and he\nwas grinning up at her, and, sideways, at Forrester with a look that\nmade them co-conspirators in what was certainly planned to be Gerda's\nseduction. Forrester didn't like the idea. As a matter of fact, he hated\nit more than he could possibly say.\n\nBut all he could do was trust to Gerda's own doubtless sterling good\nsense. She couldn't possibly prefer a lout like her current escort to\ngood old Bill Forrester, could she?\n\nOn the other hand, she thought Bill Forrester was dead. She'd had to\nthink that; when he became Dionysus the Lesser, he couldn't just\ndisappear. He had to die officially--and, as far as Gerda knew, the\ndeath wasn't just an official formality.\n\nWith Bill Forrester dead, then, had she turned to the oaf for comfort?\nHe didn't look very comforting, Forrester thought. He looked like a\ndamned outrage on the face of the Earth. Forrester disliked him on first\nsight, and knew perfectly well that any future sights would only\nincrease the dislike.\n\nIt was the third face, though that explained everything.\n\nThe third face was as unmistakable as Gerda's, though in an entirely\ndifferent way. It was fleshy and pasty, and it belonged, of course, to\nGerda's lovable brother Ed. Forrester saw everything in one flash of\nunderstanding.\n\nEd Symes obviously had enough pull to get his sister invited to the\nBacchanal. And from the looks of Gerda, he hadn't let the matter rest\nthere. She was holding a half-filled plastic mug of wine in one hand--a\nmug with the picture of Dionysus stamped on it, which for some reason\nincreased Forrester's outrage--and she was trying her best to look as if\nshe were reveling.\n\nFrom the looks of her, Ed had managed to get her about eight inches this\nside of half-pickled. And from the horribly cheerful look on Ed's\ncountenance, he wasn't about to stop at the half-pickled mark, either.\n\nOf course, from Ed's point of view--and Forrester told himself sternly\nthat he had to be fair about this whole thing--from Ed's point of view\nthere was nothing wrong in what was happening. He wanted to cheer Gerda\nup (undoubtedly the news of the Forrester demise had been quite a shock\nto her, poor girl), and what better way than to introduce her to his own\nreligion, the best of all possible religions? The Autumn Bacchanal must\nhave looked like the perfect time and place for that introduction, and\nGerda's escort, a friend of Ed's--somehow Forrester had to think of him\nas Ed's friend; it was clearly not possible that he was Gerda's--had\nbeen brought along to help cheer the girl up and show her the advantages\nof worshipping Dionysus.\n\nUnfortunately, the advantages hadn't turned out to be all that had been\nexpected of them. Because now Gerda had seen Forrester alive and--\n\nWait a minute, Forrester told himself.\n\nGerda hadn't seen William Forrester at all.\n\nShe had seen just what she expected to see; Dionysus, God of Wine. There\nwas no reason for him to shrink from her, or try to hide. Just because\nhe was walking along with seven beautiful girls, drinking about sixteen\ntimes the consumption of any normal right-thinking fish, and carousing\nlike the most unprincipled of men, he didn't have to be ashamed of\nhimself.\n\nHe was only doing his job.\n\nAnd Gerda did not know that he wasn't Dionysus.\n\nThe thought made him feel a little better, but it saddened him, too,\njust a bit. He set himself grimly and shouted: \"Forward!\" once more. To\nhis own ears, his voice lacked conviction, but the crowd didn't seem to\nnotice. The cheered frantically. Forrester wished they would all go\naway.\n\nHe started forward. His foot found a large pebble that hadn't been\nthere before, and he performed the magnificent feat of tripping on it.\nHe flailed the air frantically, and managed to regain his balance. Then\nhe was back on his feet, clutching at the girls. His big left toe hurt,\nbut he ignored the agony bravely.\n\nHe had to think of something to do, and fast. The crowd had seen him\nstumble--and that just didn't happen to a God. It wouldn't have happened\nto him, either except for Gerda.\n\nHe got his mind off Gerda with an effort and thought about what to do to\ncover his slip. In a moment he had it. He swore a great oath, empurpling\nthe air. Then he bent down and picked up the stone. He held it aloft for\na second, and then threw it. Slowly and carefully he pointed his index\nfinger at it, extending it and raising his thumb like a little boy\nplaying Stick-'Em-Up.\n\n\"_Zap_,\" he said mildly, cocking the thumb forward.\n\nA crackling, searing bolt of blue-white energy leaped out of the tip of\nhis index finger in a pencil-thin beam. It sped toward the falling\npebble, speared it and wrapped it in coruscating splendor. Then the\npebble exploded, scattering into a fine display of flying dust.\n\nThe crowd stopped moving and singing immediately.\n\nOnly the musicians, too intent on their noisemaking to see what had gone\non, went on playing. But the crowd, having seen Forrester's display and\nheard his oath, was as silent as a collection of statues. When a God\nbecame angry, each was obviously thinking, there was absolutely no\ntelling what was going to happen. Foxholes, some of them might have told\nthemselves, would definitely be a good idea. But, of course, there\nweren't any foxholes in Central Park. There was nothing to do but stand\nvery still, and hope you weren't noticed, and hope for the best.\n\nEven Gerda, Forrester saw, had stopped, her face still, her hand lifted\nin a half-finished wave, the plastic cup forgotten.\n\n_I've got to do something_, Forrester thought. _I can't let this kind of\nthing go on._\n\nHe thought fast, spun around and pointed directly at Ed Symes, standing\nin the water below the bridge.\n\n\"You, there!\" he bellowed.\n\nSymes turned a delicate fish-belly white. Against this basic color, his\npimples stood out strongly, making, Forrester thought, a rather unusual\nand somewhat striking effect. The man looked as if he wished he could\nsink out of sight in the ankle-deep water.\n\nHis mouth opened two or three times. Forrester waited, getting a good\ndeal of pleasure out of the simple sight. Finally Symes spoke. \"Me?\"\n\n\"Certainly you! You look like a tough young specimen.\"\n\nSymes tried to grin. The effect was ghastly. \"I do?\" He said\ntentatively.\n\n\"Of course you do. Your God tells you so. Do you doubt him?\"\n\n\"Doubt? No. Absolutely not. Never. Wouldn't think of it. Tough young\nspecimen. That's what I am. Tough. And young. Tough young specimen.\nCertainly. You bet.\"\n\n\"Good,\" Forrester said. \"Now let's see you in action.\"\n\nSymes took a deep breath. He seemed to be savoring it, as if he thought\nit was going to be his very last. \"Wh--what do you want me to do?\"\n\n\"I want you to pick up another stone and throw it. Let's see how high\nyou can get it.\"\n\nSymes was obviously afraid to move from his spot in the water. Instead\nof going back to the land, he fished around near his feet and finally\nmanaged to come up with a pebble almost as big as his fist. He looked at\nit doubtfully.\n\n\"Throw!\" Forrester said in a voice like thunder.\n\nSymes, galvanized, threw. It flew up in the air. Forrester drew a\ncareful bead on it, went _zap_ again with the pointed finger, and\nblasted the rock into dust.\n\nThe silence hung on.\n\nForrester laughed. \"Not a bad throw for a mortal! And a good trick,\ntoo--a fine display!\" He faced the crowd. \"Now, there--what do you say\nto the entertainment your God provides? Wasn't that _fun_?\"\n\nWell, naturally it was, if Dionysus said so. A great trick, as a matter\nof fact. And a perfectly wonderful display. The crowd agreed\nimmediately, giving a long rousing cheer. Forrester waved at them, and\nthen turned to a squad of Myrmidons standing nearby.\n\n\"Go to that man and his friends!\" he shouted, noticing that Symes's\nknees had begun to shake.\n\nThe Myrmidons obeyed.\n\n\"See that they follow near me. Allow them to remain close to me at all\ntimes--I may need a good stone-thrower later!\"\n\nGerda, her brother and the oaf without a name were rounded up in a\nhurry, and soon found themselves being hustled along, willy-nilly, out\nof the water, up onto the bridge and into Dionysus' van, where they\nfollowed in the wake of the God, in front of the rest of the Procession.\nOf the three, Forrester noted, Gerda was the only one who didn't seem to\nthink the invitation a high honor. The sight gave him a kind of hope.\n\n_And at least_, he thought, _I can keep an eye on her this way_.\n\nThe Procession wended its way on, bending slowly southward toward the\nlittle Temple-on-the-Green again. The musicians played energetically,\nswitching now from the hymn to their unofficial little ditty. Some\nswitched before others, some switched after, and some never bothered to\nswitch at all. The battery, caught between the opposing claims of two\nperfectly good songs and a lot of extraneous matter, filled in as best\nthey could with a good deal of forceful banging and pounding, aided by\nthe steam calliope, and the result of all effort was a growing cacophony\nthat should have been terribly unpleasant but somehow wasn't.\n\nThe shouting of the crowd, joking and singing, may have had something to\ndo with it; nothing was clearly distinguishable, but the general feeling\nwas that a lot of noise was being produced, and that was all to the\ngood. Noise could have been packaged by the board foot and sold in\nquantities sufficient to equip every town meeting throughout the country\nin full for seven years, and there would have been enough left over,\nForrester thought, to provide for the subways, the classrooms, the\noffices and even a couple of really top-grade traffic jams.\n\nGerda and the others of her party marched quietly. Ed, Forrester\nnoticed, tried a few cheers, but he got cold stares from his sister and\nsoon desisted. The oaf shambled along, his arm no longer around Gerda's\nwaist. This pleased Forrester no end, and he was in quite a happy mood\nby the time the Procession reached the Temple-on-the-Green.\n\nHe was so happy that he performed his atoning high jump once again, this\ntime with a double somersault and a jack-knife thrown in, just to make\nthings interesting, and landed gently, feeling positively exhilarated\nand very Godlike, on the roof of the Temple.\n\nAs the Procession straggled in, the music stopped. Forrester cleared his\nthroat and shouted in his most penetrating roar to the silent\nassemblage: \"Hear me!\"\n\nThe crowd stirred, looked up and paid him the most rapt attention.\n\n\"On with the revels!\" he roared. \"Let the dancing begin! Let my wine\nflow like the streams of the park! Let joy be unrestrained!\"\n\nHe stood on the roof then, watching the crowd begin to disperse. It was\nthe middle of the afternoon, and Forrester was amazed at how quickly\nthe time had passed. The Procession itself had taken a good six hours\nfrom start to finish, now that he looked back on it, but it certainly\nhadn't seemed so long. And he didn't even feel tired, in spite of all\nthe dancing and cavorting he had gone in for.\n\nHe did feel slightly intoxicated, but he wasn't sure how much of that\nfeeling was due purely and simply to the liquor he had managed to\nconsume. But otherwise, he told himself, he felt perfectly fine.\n\nThe musicians were breaking up into little groups of three and four and\nfive and going off to play softly to themselves among the trees. The man\nwith the steam calliope sat exhausted over his keyboard. The old man\nwith the water glasses was receiving the earnest congratulations of a\nlot of people who looked like relatives. And now that the official\nmusic-making was over, a lot of amateurs playing jews'-harps and\ntissue-paper-covered combs and slide-whistles had broken out their\ncontraptions and were gaily making a joyful noise unto their God. If,\nForrester thought, you wanted to call it joyful. The general tenor of\nthe sound was a kind of swooping, batlike whine.\n\nForrester stared down. There were Gerda and her brother and the oaf.\nThey were standing close by the Temple, three Myrmidons keeping guard\nover them. The rest of the crowd had dissolved into little bunches\nspreading all over the park. Forrester knew he would have to leave, too,\nand very soon. There were seven girls waiting for him down below.\n\nNot that he minded the idea. Seven beautiful girls, after all, were\nseven beautiful girls. But he did want to keep an eye on Gerda, and he\nwasn't sure whether he would be able to do it when he got busy.\n\nSomewhere in the bushes, someone began to play a kazoo, adding the final\ntouch of melancholy and heartbreak to the music. The formal and\nofficial part of the Bacchanal was now over.\n\nThe _real_ fun, Forrester thought dismally, was about to begin.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER NINE\n\n\n\"Now,\" Forrester said gaily, \"let's see if your God has all the names\nright, shall we?\"\n\nThe seven girls seated around him in a half-circle on the grass giggled.\nOne of them simpered.\n\n\"Hmm,\" Forrester said. He pointed a finger. \"Dorothy,\" he said. The\nfinger moved. \"Judy. Uh--Bette. Millicent. Jayne.\" He winked at the last\ntwo. They had been his closest companions on the march down. \"Beverly,\"\nhe said, \"and Kathy. Right?\"\n\nThe girls laughed, nodding their heads. \"You can call me Millie,\"\nMillicent said.\n\n\"All right, Millie.\" For some reason this drew another big laugh.\nForrester didn't know why, but then, he didn't much care, either.\n\"That's fine,\" he said. \"Just fine.\"\n\nHe gave all the girls a big, wide grin. It looked perfectly convincing\nto them, he was sure, but there was one person it didn't convince:\nForrester. He knew just how far from a grin he felt.\n\nAs a matter of fact, he told himself, he was in something of a quandary.\n\nHe was not exactly inexperienced in the art of making love to beautiful\nyoung women. After the last few months, he was about as experienced as\nhe could stand being. But his education had, it now appeared, missed one\nvital little factor.\n\nHe was used to making love to a beautiful girl all alone, just the two\nof them locked quietly away from prying eyes. True, it had turned out\nthat a lot of his experiences had been judged by Venus and any other God\nwho felt like looking in, but Forrester hadn't known that at the time\nand, in any case, the spectators had been invisible and thus ignorable.\n\nNow, however, he was on the greensward of Central Park, within full view\nof a couple of thousand drunken revelers, all of whom, if not otherwise\noccupied, asked for nothing better than a good view of their God in\naction. And whichever girl he chose would leave six others eagerly\nawaiting their turns, watching his every move with appreciative eyes.\n\nAnd on top of that, there was Gerda, close by. He was trying to keep an\neye on her. But was she keeping an eye on him, too?\n\nIt didn't seem to matter much that she couldn't recognize him as William\nForrester. She could still see him in action with the seven luscious\nmaidens. The idea was appalling.\n\nAll afternoon, he had put off the inevitable by every method he could\nthink of. He had danced with each of the girls in turn for entirely\nimprobable lengths of time. He had performed high-jumps, leaps,\nbarrel-rolls, Immelmann turns and other feats showing off his Godlike\nprowess to anyone interested. He had made a display of himself until he\nwas sick of the whole business. He had consumed staggering amounts of\nferment and distillate, and he had forced the stuff on the girls\nthemselves, in the hope that, what with the liquor and the exertion,\nthey would lie down on the grass and quietly pass out.\n\nUnfortunately, none of these plans had worked. Dancing and acrobatics\nhad to come to an end sometime, and as for the girls, what they wanted\nto do was lie down, not pass out--at least not from liquor.\n\nThe Chosen Maidens had been imbued, temporarily, with extraordinary\nstaying powers by the Priests of the various temples, working with the\ndelegated powers of the various Gods. After all, an ordinary girl\ncouldn't be expected to keep up with Dionysus during a revel, could she?\nA God reveling was more than any ordinary mortal could take for long--as\nwitness the ancient legend concerned the false Norse God, Thor.\n\nBut these girls were still raring to go, and the sun had set, and he was\nrunning out of opportunities for delay. He tried to think of some more\nexcuses, and he couldn't think of one. Vaguely, he wished that the real\nDionysus would show up. He would gladly give the God not only the\ncredit, he told himself wearily, but the entire game.\n\nHe glanced out into the growing dimness. Gerda was out there still, with\nher brother and the oaf--whose name, Forrester had discovered, was Alvin\nSherdlap. It was not a probable name, but Alvin did not look like a\nprobable human being.\n\nNow and again during the long afternoon, Forrester had got Ed Symes to\ntoss up more rocks as targets, just to keep his hand in and to help him\nin keeping an eye on Gerda and her oaf, Alvin. It was a boring business,\nexploding rocks in mid-air, but after a while Symes apparently got to\nlike it, and thought of it as a singular honor. After all, he had been\npicked for a unique position: target-tosser for the great God Dionysus.\nWho else could make that statement?\n\nHe would probably grow in the estimation of his friends, Forrester\nthought, and that was a picture that wouldn't stand much thinking about.\nAs a stupefying boor, Symes was bad enough. Adding insufferable\nsnobbishness to his present personality was piling Pelion on Ossa. And\nonly a God, Forrester reminded himself wryly, could possibly do that.\n\nNow, Forrester discovered, Symes and Alvin Sherdlap and Gerda were all\nsitting around a large keg of beer which Symes had somehow managed to\nappropriate from some other part of the grounds. He and Alvin were\nguzzling happily, and Gerda was just sitting there, whiling away the\ntime, apparently, by thinking. Forrester wondered if she was thinking of\nhim, and the notion made him feel sad and poetic.\n\nGerda couldn't see him any longer, he knew. The darkness of night had\ncome down and there was no moon. The only illumination was the glow\nrising from the rest of the city, since the lights of the park would\nstay out throughout the night. To an ordinary mortal, the remaining\nlight was not enough to see anything more than a few feet away. But to\nForrester's Godlike, abnormally perceptive vision, the park seemed no\ndarker than it had at dusk, an hour or so before. Though the Symes trio\ncould not possibly see him, he could still watch over them with no\neffort at all.\n\nHe intended to continue doing so.\n\nBut now, with darkness putting a cloak over his activities, and his mind\ncompletely empty of excuses, was the time to begin the task at hand.\n\nHe cleared his throat and spoke very softly.\n\n\"Well,\" he said. \"Well.\"\n\nThere had to be something to follow that, but for a minute he couldn't\nthink of what.\n\nMillicent giggled unexpectedly. \"Oh, Lord Dionysus! I feel so\n_honored_!\"\n\n\"Er,\" Forrester said. Finally he found words. \"Oh, that's all right,\" he\nsaid, wondering exactly what he meant. \"Perfectly all right, Millicent.\"\n\n\"Call me Millie.\"\n\n\"Of course, Millie.\"\n\n\"You can call me Bets, if you want to,\" Bette chimed in. Bette was a\nblonde with short, curly hair and a startling figure. \"It's kind of a\npet name. You know.\"\n\n\"Sure,\" Forrester said. \"Uh--would you mind keeping your voices down a\nlittle?\"\n\n\"Why?\" Millicent asked.\n\nForrester passed a hand over his forehead. \"Well,\" he said at last,\nthinking about Gerda, only a few feet away, \"I thought it might be nicer\nif we were quiet. Sort of private and romantic.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" Bette said.\n\nKathy spoke up. \"You mean we have to whisper? As if we were doing\nsomething secret?\"\n\nForrester tightened his lips. He felt the beginnings of a strong\ndistaste for Kathy. Why couldn't she leave well enough alone? But he\nonly said: \"Well, yes. I thought it might be fun. Let's try it, girls.\"\n\n\"Of course, Lord Dionysus,\" Kathy said demurely.\n\nHe disliked her, he decided, intensely.\n\nThere was a little silence.\n\n\"Well,\" Forrester said. \"You're all such beautiful girls that I hardly\nknow how to--ah--proceed from here.\"\n\nMillicent tittered. So did one of the others--Judy, Forrester thought.\n\n\"I wouldn't want any of you to feel disappointed, or think you were any\nlower in my estimation than--than any other one of you.\" The sentence\nseemed to have got lost somewhere, Forrester thought, but he had\nstraightened it out. \"That wouldn't be fair,\" he went on, \"and we Gods\nare always fair.\"\n\nThe sentence didn't ring quite true in Forrester's mind, and he thought\nhe heard one of the girls snicker, but he ignored it and went bravely\non.\n\n\"So,\" he said, \"we're going to have a little game.\"\n\nMillicent said: \"Game?\"\n\n\"Sure,\" Forrester said, trying his best to sound enthusiastic. \"We all\nlike games, don't we? I mean, what's an orgy--I mean, what's a\nrevel--but a great big game? Isn't that right?\"\n\n\"Well,\" Bette said doubtfully, \"I guess so. Sure, Lord Dionysus, if you\nsay so.\"\n\n\"Well, sure it is!\" Forrester said. \"Fun and games! So we'll play a\nlittle game. Ha-ha.\"\n\nKathy looked up at him brightly. \"What kind of game, Lord Dionysus?\" she\nasked in an innocent tone. She was an extravagantly pretty brunette with\nbright brown eyes, and she had been one of the two he had held in his\narms during the Procession back from the uptown end of the park.\nThinking it over now, Forrester wasn't entirely sure whether he had\nchosen her or she had chosen him, but it didn't really seem to matter,\nafter all.\n\n\"Well, now,\" he said, \"it's going to be a game of pure chance. Chance\nand nothing more.\"\n\n\"Like luck,\" Bette contributed.\n\n\"That's right--uh--Bets,\" Forrester said. \"Like luck. And I promise not\nto use my powers to affect the outcome. Fair enough, isn't it?\"\n\n\"Certainly,\" Kathy said demurely. There was really no reason for him to\nbe irritated by the girl, so long as she was agreeing with him so\nnicely. Nevertheless, he wasn't quite sure that she was speaking her\nmind.\n\n\"Oh,\" Millicent said. \"Sure.\"\n\nBette nodded. \"Uh-huh. I mean, yes, Lord Dionysus.\"\n\nForrester waved a hand. \"No need for formality,\" he said, and felt like\nan ass. But none of the girls seemed to notice. Agreement with his idea\nbecame general. \"Well, let's see.\"\n\nHis eyes wandered over the surrounding scenery in quiet thought. Several\nMyrmidons were scattered about twenty feet away, and they were standing\nwith their backs to the group as a matter of formality. If they had\nturned around, they couldn't have seen a thing in the darkness. But they\nhad to remain at their stations, to make sure no unauthorized persons,\nsouvenir-hunters, musicians, special-pleaders or just plain lost souls\nintruded upon great Dionysus while he was occupied.\n\nThe Myrmidons were the only living souls within that radius, except for\nForrester himself and his bevy--and the Symes trio.\n\nHis gaze settled on them. Ed Symes, he noticed with quiet satisfaction,\nwas now out cold. Forrester thought that the little spell he had cast on\nthe beer might have had something to do with that, and he felt rather\npleased with his efforts, at least in that direction. Symes was lying\nflat on his back, snoring loudly enough to drown out all but a few notes\nfrom the steam calliope, which was singing itself loudly to sleep\nsomewhere in the distance. Near the prone figure, Gerda was trying to\nfend off the advances of good old Alvin Sherdlap, but it was obvious\nthat the sheer passage of time, plus the amount of liquor she had\nconsumed, were weakening her resistance.\n\nForrester pointed a finger at the man. The one thing he really wanted to\ndo was to give Alvin the rock treatment. One little _zap_ would do it,\nand Alvin Sherdlap would encumber the Earth no more. And it wasn't as if\nAlvin would be missed, Forrester told himself. It was clear from one\nlook at the lout that no one, anywhere, for any reason, would miss Alvin\nif he were exploded into dust.\n\nThe temptation was very nearly irresistible, but somehow Forrester\nmanaged to resist it. He had been told that he had to be extremely\ncareful in the use of his powers, and he had a pretty good idea that he\nwouldn't be able to justify blasting Alvin. Viewed objectively, there\nwas nothing wrong with what the oaf was doing. He was merely following\nhis religion as he understood it, and the religion was a very simple\none: when at an orgy, have an orgy.\n\nGerda didn't have to give in if she didn't want to, Forrester thought.\nHe tried very hard to make himself believe that.\n\nBut his finger was still pointed at the man. He didn't stop his powers\nentirely; he merely throttled them down so that only a tiny fraction of\nthe neural energy at his command came into play. The energy that came\nfrom the tip of his finger made no noise and cast no light. It was not a\nkilling blow.\n\nInvisibly, it leaped across the intervening space and hit Alvin Sherdlap\nsquarely on the nose.\n\nThe results were eminently satisfactory. Alvin uttered a sharp cry, let\ngo of Gerda and fell over backward. His legs stood up straight in the\nair for a second, and then came down to hit the ground. He was silent.\nGerda stared down at him, too tired and confused to make any coherent\npicture out of what was going on.\n\nForrester sighed happily to himself. _That_, he thought, _ought to take\ncare of Alvin for a while_.\n\n\"Lord Dionysus,\" Kathy asked in that same innocent tone, \"what are you\npointing at out there?\"\n\nThe girl was decidedly irritating, Forrester thought. \"Pointing?\" he\nsaid. \"Ah, yes.\" He thought fast. \"My target-tosser. I fear that his\nreligious fervor has led to his being overcome.\"\n\nThe girls all turned round to look but, of course, Forrester thought,\nthey could see nothing at all in the darkness.\n\n\"My goodness,\" Bette said.\n\n\"But if he's unconscious,\" Kathy put in, \"why were you pointing at him?\"\n\nForrester told himself that the next time the Sabbatical Bacchanal was\nheld, he would see to it that an intelligence test was given to every\ncandidate for Dionysian Escort, and anyone who scored as high on it as\nKathy would be automatically disqualified.\n\nHe had to think of some excuse for looking at the man. And then he had\nit--the game he had planned. It was really quite a nice little idea.\n\n\"I hate to see the poor mortal miss out on the rest of the evening,\"\nForrester said, \"even if he is asleep now. And I think we may have a use\nfor him.\"\n\nHe gestured gently with one hand.\n\nGerda and Alvin Sherdlap didn't even notice what was happening. They\nwere much too busy arguing, Alvin claiming that somebody had slapped him\non the nose--\"and pretty hard, too, let me tell you!\"--and Gerda\nswearing she hadn't done it. The fact that Ed Symes's snores were fading\nquietly into the distance dawned on neither of them.\n\nBut Ed was in flight. He rose five feet above the ground, still\nunconscious and snoring, and sped unerringly across the air, like a\nlarge, fat arrow shot from a bow, in the direction of Forrester and the\ncircle of girls.\n\nHe appeared overhead suddenly, and Forrester controlled him so that he\ndrifted downward as delicately as an overweight snowflake, eddying in\nthe slight breeze while the girls gaped at him. Forrester allowed the\nbody to drop the last six inches out of control, so that Ed Symes landed\nwith a heavy thump in the center of the circle. But no harm was done. Ed\nwas very far gone indeed; he merely snored on.\n\n\"There,\" Forrester said.\n\nMillicent blinked. \"Where?\" she said. \"Him?\"\n\n\"Certainly,\" Forrester said in a pleased tone. \"He's a good deal too\nnoisy, though, don't you think?\"\n\n\"He snores a lot,\" Judy offered in a tentative voice, \"if that's what\nyou mean, Lord Dionysus.\"\n\n\"Exactly. And I don't see any reason to put up with it. Instead, well\njust put him in stasis for a little while, and that'll keep him quiet.\"\nAgain he waved one hand, almost carelessly. Ed Symes's snores vanished\nimmediately, leaving the world a cleaner, purer, quieter place to live\nin, and his body became as rigid as if he were a statue.\n\n\"There,\" Forrester said again with satisfaction.\n\n\"Now what?\" Kathy asked.\n\n\"Now we straighten him out.\"\n\nOne more pass, and Ed Symes's arms were at his sides, his legs stretched\nstraight out. Only his stomach projected above the rigid lines of his\nbody. Forrester thought he had never seen a more pleasing sight.\n\nDorothy gasped. \"Is he--is he dead?\"\n\nForrester looked at her reprovingly. \"Dead? Now what would I do that\nfor, after he's been so helpful and all?\"\n\n\"I don't know,\" she muttered.\n\n\"Well,\" Forrester said, \"he's not dead. He's just in stasis--in a state\nof totally suspended animation. As soon as I take the spell off, he'll\nbe all right. But I don't think I'll take it off just yet. I've got\nplans for my little target-tosser.\"\n\nHe reached over and touched the stiff body. It seemed to rise a fraction\nof an inch, floating on the tips of the grass. The wind stirred it a\nlittle, but it didn't float away.\n\n\"I took some of his weight off,\" Forrester explained, \"so he'll be a\nlittle easier to handle.\"\n\nNow Ed Symes was behaving as if he were a statue carved out of cork.\nWith a quick flip, Forrester turned the statue over. The effect was\nexactly what he wanted. Ed did not touch the grass at any point except\none: the point where his protuberant stomach most protruded. Fore and\naft, the rest of him was balanced stiffly in the air.\n\nForrester gazed at the sight, feeling fulfilled. \"Now,\" he said with a\nnote of decision in his voice, \"we are going to play Spin-the-Bottle!\"\n\nThe girls giggled and laughed.\n\n\"You mean with him?\" Bette said.\n\nForrester sighed. \"That's right,\" he said patiently. \"With him.\"\n\nHe got into position and looked up at the girls. \"This one's just for\npractice, so we can all see how it works.\" He gave Symes's extended foot\na little push.\n\n_Whee!_ he thought. Round and round the gentleman went, spinning\nquietly on his stomach, revolving in a merry fashion while the girls and\nForrester watched silently. At last he slowed and stopped, his nose\npointing at Bette and his toes at Dorothy.\n\n\"Oh, my!\" Dorothy said. \"He's pointing at me!\"\n\n\"He is not!\" Bette said decisively. \"His head points my way!\"\n\n\"But he--\"\n\n\"Temper, temper,\" Forrester said. \"No arguments. That one didn't count,\nanyhow--it was just to see how he worked. And I do think he works very\nnicely, don't you?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes, Lord Dionysus,\" Kathy said. There was the same undertone in\nher voice, as if she were silently laughing at everything. She was, he\ntold himself, an extremely unlikable young woman.\n\nThe other girls agreed in a chorus. They were still studying the stiff\nbody of Ed Symes. His stomach had made a little depression in the grass\nas he whirled, and he was now nicely bedded down for a real spin.\nForrester rubbed his hands together.\n\n\"Fine,\" he said. \"Now, all of you are going to be judges.\"\n\n\"Me, too?\" Bette asked.\n\nForrester nodded. \"The head will be the determining factor. If our\nlittle Mr. Bottle's head points to any one of you, that is the one I'll\nchoose first.\"\n\n\"See?\" Bette said. \"I told you it was his head.\"\n\n\"Well, I couldn't tell before anybody said so,\" Dorothy said. \"And\nanyhow, I--\"\n\n\"Now, now, girls,\" Forrester said, feeling momentarily like a Girl Scout\ntroop leader. \"Let's listen to the rules, shall we? And then we can get\ndown to playing the game.\" He took a deep breath. \"Isn't this fun?\"\n\nThe girls giggled.\n\n\"Good,\" Forrester said. \"If Mr. Bottle's head ends up between two of\nyou, then the other five girls will have to decide which girl the head's\nnearer to. The two girls involved will remain absolutely quiet during\nthe judging, and if the other five can't come to a unanimous agreement,\nwe'll spin Mr. Bottle again. Understand?\"\n\n\"You mean if the head points at me, I get picked,\" Bette said. \"And if\nthe head goes in between me and somebody else, all the other girls have\nto decide who gets picked.\"\n\nIt was a masterly summation.\n\n\"Right,\" Forrester said. \"I'm going to give Mr. Bottle a spin. This one\ncounts. We'll have the second spin, and the rest of them, later.\"\n\n\"Gee!\" Millicent whispered. \"Isn't this _exciting_?\"\n\nForrester ignored the comment. \"And remember, I give you my word as a\nGod that I will not interfere in any way with the workings of chance. Is\nthat clearly understood?\"\n\nThe girls murmured agreement.\n\n\"Now,\" Forrester said, \"all you girls get into a nice circle. I'll stand\noutside.\"\n\nThe girls took a minute or two arranging themselves in a circle, arguing\nabout who was going to sit next to whom, and whose very proximity was\nbound to bring bad luck. The argument gave Forrester a chance to check\non Gerda again. She was whispering softly to Alvin, but they weren't\ntouching each other. Forrester turned up his hearing to get a better\nidea of what was going on.\n\nThey had progressed, in the usual manner, from argument to life-history.\nGerda was telling Alvin all about her past.\n\n\"... but don't misunderstand me, Alvin. It's just that I was in love\nwith a very fine young man. An Athenan, he was. A wonderful man, really\nwonderful. But he--he was killed in a subway accident some months ago.\"\n\n\"Gosh,\" Alvin said. \"I'm sorry.\"\n\n\"I--I have to tell you this, Alvin, so you'll understand. I still love\nhim. He was wonderful. And until I get over it, I simply can't ...\"\n\nFeeling both ashamed of himself and pleased, as well as sorry for the\npoor girl, Forrester quit listening. The Gods had arranged his simulated\ndeath, which, of course, had been a necessity. His disappearance had to\nbe explained somehow. But he didn't like the idea of Gerda having to\nsuffer so much.\n\n_My God!_ Forrester thought. _She still loves me!_\n\nIt was the first time he had ever heard her say so, flatly, right out in\nthe open. He wanted to bound and leap and cavort--but he couldn't. He\nhad to go back to his seven beautiful girls.\n\nHe had never felt less like it in his life.\n\nBut at least, he consoled himself, Gerda was keeping Alvin at arm's\nlength. She was being faithful to his memory.\n\nFaithful--because she loved him.\n\nGrimly, he turned back to the girls. \"Well, are we all ready now?\"\n\nKathy looked up at him brightly. \"Lord Dionysus, it's so dark I can't\neven see for sure what's going on. How can we do any judging, if we\ncan't see?\"\n\nForrester cursed Kathy for pointing out the flaw in his arrangements.\nThen, making a nice impartial job of it, he cursed himself for\nforgetting that what was perfectly visible to him was dark night to\nmortals.\n\n\"We can clear that up,\" he said quickly. \"As a matter of fact, I was\njust getting around to it. We will now proceed to shed a little light on\nthe subject--said subject being our old friend Mr. Bottle.\"\n\nThe trick had been taught to him by Venus, but he'd never had a chance\nto practice it. This was his first real experience with it, and he could\nonly hope that it went off as it was supposed to.\n\nHe stepped into the middle of the circle, near Ed Symes's stiff body and\nheld his right hand above his head, thumb and forefinger spread an inch\napart and the other three fingers folded into his palm.\n\nThen he concentrated.\n\nA long second ticked by, while Forrester tried to apply even more neural\npressure. Then ...\n\nA small ball of light appeared between his thumb and forefinger, a\nyellow, cold sphere of fire that shed its radiance over the whole group.\nCarefully, he withdrew his hand, not daring to breathe. The ball of\nyellow fire remained in position, hanging in mid-air.\n\nThe muffled gasp from the circle of girls was, Forrester told himself, a\ndefinite tribute.\n\n\"Now don't worry about it, girls,\" he said. \"That light's only visible\nto the eight of us. Nobody else can see it.\"\n\nThere was another little series of gasps.\n\nForrester grinned. \"Can everybody see each other?\"\n\nA murmur of agreement.\n\n\"Can everybody see Mr. Bottle here?\"\n\nAnother murmur.\n\n\"In that case, let's go.\" He stepped outside the circle of girls,\nreached in again for Ed Symes's foot, and set the gentleman spinning\nonce more.\n\nSymes spun with a blinding speed, making a low, whistling noise.\nForrester watched the body spin dizzily, just as anxious as the girls\nwere to find out who the first winner was going to be. He thought of\nMillicent, who chewed gum and made it pop. He thought of Bette, the\ninveterate explainer and double-take expert. He tried to think of\nDorothy and Jayne and Beverly and Judy, but the thought of Kathy,\nirritating and uncomfortable and too damned bright for her own good, got\nannoyingly in the way.\n\nHe was rather glad he had promised not to use his powers on the spinning\nfigure. He was not at all sure which one of the girls he would have\npicked for Number One.\n\nAnd he had, after all, given his word as a God. True, he wasn't quite a\nGod, only a demi-Deity. But he did feel that Dionysus might object to\nhis name being used in vain. A promise, he told himself sternly and\nwith some relief, was a promise.\n\nAfter some time, Mr. Ed (Bottle) Symes began to slow perceptibly. The\nwhistling died as Symes began rotating about his abdominal axis at a\nmore and more leisurely rate. Seconds passed. Symes faced Bette ...\nMillicent ... Kathy ... Judy ... Bette again ...\n\nForrester watched, fascinated.\n\nFinally, Symes came to a halt. All the elaborate instructions in case\nthe Bottle ended up pointing between two girls had been, Forrester saw,\ntotally unnecessary. Symes's head was pointing at one girl, and one girl\nalone.\n\nShe gave a little squeal of delight. The others began chorusing their\ncongratulations at once, looking no more convincing than the runners-up\nin any beauty contest. Their smiles appeared to have been glued on\nloosely, and their voices lacked a certain something. Possibly it was\nsincerity.\n\n\"All right, that's it for now.\" Forrester turned to the winner. \"My\ncongratulations,\" he said, wondering just what he was supposed to say.\nNot finding any appropriate words, he turned back to the group of six\nlosers. \"The rest of you girls can do me a big favor. Go get a couple of\nthe Myrmidons to protect you, hunt around for the nearest wine barrel\nand confiscate it for me. It's been a thirsty day.\"\n\n\"Gee,\" Jayne said. \"Sure we will, Lord Dionysus.\"\n\n\"Now take your time,\" Forrester said, and the losers all giggled at\nonce, like a trained chorus. Forrester grimaced. \"Don't come back till\nyou find a barrel. Then we'll play the game again.\"\n\nIn a disappointed fashion, the six of them trooped off into the darkness\nand vanished to mortal eyes. Forrester watched them go and then turned\nto the winner, feeling just a little uncertain.\n\n\"Well, Kathy,\" he started. \"I--\"\n\nShe flung herself on him with the avid girlishness of a Bengal tiger.\n\"I have dreamed of this night since I was but a child! At last I am in\nyour arms! I love you! Take me! I am yours, all yours!\"\n\n\"That's nice,\" Forrester said, taken far aback by the girl's sudden\nonslaught. His immediate impulse was to unwind Kathy and set her back on\nher own feet, some little distance away, after which he could start\nagain on a more leisurely basis. After all, he told himself, people\nought to spend more time getting to know each other.\n\nBut he remembered, just in time, that he was Dionysus. He conquered his\nfirst impulse and put his arms around her. As he did so, he discovered\nthat his face was being covered with kisses. Kathy was murmuring little\nindistinct terms of endearment into his ear every time she reached it en\nroute from one side of his face to the other.\n\nForrester swallowed hard, tightened his grip and planted his lips firmly\non Kathy's. A blaze of startling heat shot through him.\n\nIn a small corner at the back of his mind, a scroll unrolled. On it was\nwritten what Vulcan had told him about his mental attitude changing\nafter Investiture. When he had been plain William Forrester, an attack\nlike the one Kathy was making on him had pretty much chilled him for a\nwhile. But now he found himself definitely rising to the occasion.\n\nThere was a passion to her kiss that he had never felt before, a rising\ntide of flame that threatened to char him. The movement of her mouth on\nhis sent new fires burning throughout his body, and as her hands moved\non him he was awakened to a new world, a world of consuming desires.\n\nHe wished his own clothing away, and fumbled for a second at the two\nfastenings that held Kathy's _chiton_ in place. Then it was gone and\nthere was nothing between them. They met, flesh to flesh, in a fiery\nembrace that grew as he forced her down and she responded eagerly,\nwildly, to his every motion. His lips traveled over her; her entire\nbody was drowning him once and for all in an unbelievable red haze,\nunlike anything he had ever before experienced ... a great wave of\npassion that went on and on, rising to a peak he had never dreamed of\nuntil his body shivered with the sensations, and he pressed on, rising\nstill higher in an ecstasy beyond measure....\n\nHis last spasm of tension turned out the God-light.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nShe lay in his arms on the grass, holding him almost as tightly as he\nheld her. He felt exhausted, but he knew perfectly well that he wasn't.\nA God was a God, after all, and Kathy was only the hors d'oeuvres of a\nseven-course dinner.\n\n\"You're wonderful,\" Kathy said in a soft whisper at his ear. \"Absolutely\nwonderful. More wonderful than I could ever dream. I--\"\n\nShe was interrupted by a strange, harsh voice that bellowed from\nsomewhere nearby.\n\n\"All right, bitch!\" it said. \"Get the hell up from there! And you too,\nbuster!\"\n\nForrester jerked his head up in astonishment and froze. Kathy looked up,\nfright written all over her face.\n\nThe man standing over them in the darkness looked like a prize-fighter,\none who had taken a number of beatings, but always given better than he\nhad received. His arms were akimbo, his feet planted as firmly as if he\nwere a particularly stubborn brand of tree. He glared down at them, his\nface expressive of anger, hatred--and, Forrester thought dully, a\ncomplete lack of respect for his God.\n\nThe man barked: \"You heard what I said! On your feet, buster! If I have\nto kick your teeth in, I want to do it when you're standing up!\"\n\nForrester's jaw dropped. Then, as the initial shock left him, anger\nboiled in to take its place. He toyed with the idea of blasting this\nmortal who showed such disrespect to a God. He sprang to his feet,\nready to move, and then stopped.\n\nMaybe the man was crazy. Maybe he was just some poor soul who wasn't\nresponsible for his own actions. It would be merciful, Forrester\nthought, to find out first, and blast the intruder afterward.\n\nHe looked around. Twenty yards away, the encircling Myrmidons still\nstood, their backs to the scene, as if nothing at all were going on.\n\nForrester blinked. \"How'd you get in here, anyway?\"\n\nThe man barked a laugh. \"None of your business.\" He turned to Kathy, who\nhad devoted the previous few seconds to getting her _chiton_ on again.\nHurriedly, Forrester wished back his own costume. Kathy got up, staring\nstraight back at the intruder. Fear was gone from her face, and a kind\nof calmness that Forrester had never seen before possessed her now.\n\n\"So!\" the intruder bellowed. \"The minute my back is turned, off you go!\nBy the Stars and Galaxy, I--I don't know what to call you! You're worse\nthan your predecessor! Can't turn anything down! You--\"\n\n\"Now wait!\" Forrester bellowed in his most Godlike voice. \"Just hold\nstill there! Do you know who you're talking to? How dare you--\"\n\nAnd Kathy interrupted him. Forrester stood mute as she stripped the\nstranger with a voice like scalding acid. \"Listen, you,\" she said,\npointing a finger at the man. \"Who do you think you are--my husband?\"\n\n\"By the Stars--\" the stranger began.\n\n\"Don't bother trying to scare me with your big mouth,\" Kathy went on\nimperturbably. \"You don't mean a thing to me and you can't order me\naround. What's more, you know it. You're not my husband, you big\nthug--and you're never going to be. I'll sleep with whomever I please,\nand whenever I please, and wherever I please, and that's the way things\nare going to be. After all, lard-head, it's my job, isn't it? Got any\nquestions?\"\n\nHer _job_?\n\nForrester began to wonder just what he had managed to walk into now. But\nthat was a detail. The important thing was that his Godhood had been\ngrossly, unbelievably insulted--and at a damned inconvenient time, too!\n\nHe stepped between Kathy and the intruder, his eyes flashing fire. \"Do\nyou know who I am? Do you know that--\"\n\n\"Of course he knows,\" Kathy put in abruptly. \"And if you don't want to\nget hurt, I'd advise you to stay out of this little quarrel.\"\n\nForrester turned and stared at her.\n\nWhat the everlasting bloody hell was going _on_?\n\nBut there wasn't any time to think. The intruder put his face up near\nForrester's and glared at him. \"Sure I know who you are, buster,\" he\nsaid. \"You're a wise guy. You're a Johnny-come-lately. And I know what I\nought to do with you, too--take you apart, limb by limb!\"\n\nThat did it. Forrester, seeing several shades of red, decided that no\nGod could possibly object if this ugly blasphemer were blasted off the\nface of the Earth. He raised a hand.\n\nAnd Kathy grabbed it. \"_Don't!_\" she said in a frightened tone.\n\nThe intruder grinned wolfishly at him. \"Pay no attention to Little Miss\nSacktime over there, Forrester. You go right ahead and try it! All I\nneed is an excuse to vaporize you. Just one tiny little excuse--and I'll\ndo the job so damn quick, your head won't even have time to start\nswimming.\" He set himself. \"Go on. Let's see your stuff, Forrester.\"\n\nForrester's arm came down, without his being aware of it. There was only\nroom in his mind for one thought.\n\nThe intruder had called him Forrester.\n\nWhere had he gotten the name?\n\nAnd, for that matter, how had he seen the two of them in the darkness?\n\nWhile the questions were still spinning in Forrester's mind, Kathy threw\nherself forward between him and the stranger. \"Ares!\" she screamed. \"You\nstupid, jealous idiot! Get some sense into that battle-scarred brain of\nyours! Are you completely crazy?\"\n\n\"Now you listen to me--\" the stranger began.\n\n\"Listen, nothing! If you want to pick a fight, do it with me--I can\nfight back! But if you lay a hand on Forrester, we'll never find\nanother--\"\n\nThe stranger reached out casually and clamped one huge paw over her\nmouth. \"Shut up,\" he said, almost quietly. He glanced at Forrester and\nwent on, in the same tone: \"Don't give away everything you've got,\nchum.\"\n\nA second passed and then he took the hand away. Kathy said nothing at\nall for a moment, and then she nodded.\n\n\"All right,\" she said. \"You're right. We shouldn't be losing our tempers\njust now. But I didn't start--\"\n\n\"Didn't you?\" the stranger said.\n\nKathy shrugged. \"Well, never mind it now.\" She turned to Forrester. \"You\nknow who we are now, don't you?\"\n\nForrester nodded very slowly. How else could the man have come through\nthe cordon of Myrmidons and seen them in the darkness? How else would he\nhave dared to face up to Dionysus--confident that he could beat him? And\nhow else could all this argument have gone on without anyone hearing it?\n\nFor that matter, why else would the argument have begun--unless the\nstranger and Kathy were--\n\n\"Sure,\" he said, as if he had known it all along. \"You're Mars and\nVenus.\"\n\nHe could feel cold death approaching.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER TEN\n\n\nWilliam Forrester sat, quite alone, in the room which had been given him\non Mount Olympus. He stared out of the window, a little smaller than the\nwindow in Venus' rooms, at the Grecian plain far below, without actually\nseeing. There was no vertigo this time; small matters like that couldn't\nbother him.\n\nThe whole room was rather a small one, as Gods' rooms went, but it had\nthe same varicolored shifting walls, the same furniture that appeared\nwhen you approached it. Forrester was beginning to get used to it now,\nand he didn't know if it was going to do him any good.\n\nHe peered down, trying to discern the patrolling Myrmidons around the\nbase and lower slopes of the mountain, placed there to discourage\novereager climbers from trying to reach the home of the Gods. Of course\nhe couldn't see them, and after a while he lost interest again. Matters\nwere too serious to allow time for that kind of game.\n\nThe Autumn Bacchanal was over, a thing of the past, on the way to the\ndistortion of legend. Forrester's greatest triumph had ended--in his\ngreatest fiasco.\n\nHe closed his eyes as he sat in his room, the fluctuating colors on the\nwalls going unappreciated. He had nothing to do now except wait for the\nfinal judgment of the Gods.\n\nAt first he had been terrified. But terror could only last so long, and,\nas the time ticked by, the idea of that coming judgment had almost\nstopped troubling his mind. Either he had passed the tests or he hadn't.\nThere was no point in worrying about the inevitable. He felt\nanesthetized, numb to any sensation of personal danger. There was\nnothing whatever he could do. The Gods had him; very well, let the Gods\nworry about what to do with him.\n\nFreed, his mind turned over and over a problem that seemed new to him at\nfirst. Gradually, he realized it wasn't new at all; it had been\nsomewhere in the back of his thoughts from the very first, when Venus\nhad told him that he had been chosen as a double for Dionysus, so many\nmonths ago. It seemed like years to Forrester, and yet, at the same\ntime, like no more than hours. So much had happened, and so much had\nchanged....\n\nBut the question had remained, waiting until he could look at it and\nwork with it. Now he could face that strange doubt in his mind, the\ndoubt that had colored everything since his introduction to the Gods,\nthat had grown as his training in demi-Godhood had progressed, and that\nwas now, for the first time, coming to full consciousness. Every time it\nhad come near the surface, before this day, he had expelled it from his\nmind, forcefully getting rid of it without realizing fully that he was\ndoing so.\n\nAnd perhaps, he thought, the doubt had begun even earlier than that.\nPerhaps he had always doubted, and never allowed himself to think about\nthe doubt. The floor of his mind seemed to open and he was falling,\nfalling....\n\nBut where the doubt had begun was unimportant now. It was present, it\nhad grown; that was all that mattered. He could find facts to feed the\ndoubt and strengthen it, and he looked at the facts one by one:\n\nFirst there was the angry conversation between Mars and Venus, on the\nnight of the Bacchanal.\n\nHe could still hear what Mars had said:\n\n\"_... worse than your predecessor._\"\n\nAnd then he'd shut Venus up before she gave away too much--realizing,\nmaybe, that he had given away a good deal himself. That one little\nsentence was enough to bring everything into question, Forrester\nthought.\n\nHe had wondered why it had been necessary to have a double for Dionysus,\nbut he hadn't actually thought about it; maybe he hadn't wanted to think\nabout it. But now, with the notion of a \"predecessor\" for Venus in his\nmind, he _had_ to think about it, and the only conclusion he could come\nto was a disturbing one. It did more than disturb him, as a matter of\nfact--it frightened him. He wanted desperately to find some flaw in the\nconclusion he faced, because he feared it even more than he feared the\ncoming judgment of the Pantheon.\n\nBut there wasn't any flaw. The facts meshed together entirely too well\nto be an accidental pattern.\n\nIn the first place, he thought, why had he been picked for the job? He\nwas a nobody, of no importance, with no special gifts. Why did he\ndeserve the honor of taking his place beside Hercules and Achilles and\nOdysseus and the other great heroes? Forrester knew he wasn't any hero.\nBut what gave him his standing?\n\nAnd, he went on, there was a second place. In the months of his training\nhe had met fourteen of the Gods--all of them, except for Dionysus. Now,\nwhat kind of sense did that make? Anyone who's going to have a double\nusually trains the double himself, if it's at all possible. Or, at the\nvery least, he allows the double to watch his actions, so that the\ndouble can do a really competent job of imitation.\n\nAnd if an imitation is all that's needed, why not hire an actor instead\nof a history professor?\n\nVulcan had told him: \"You were picked not merely for your physical\nresemblance to Dionysus, but your psychological resemblance as well.\"\n\nThat had to be true, if only because, as far as Forrester could see,\nnobody had the slightest reason to lie about it. But why should it be\ntrue? What advantage did the Gods get out of that \"psychological\nresemblance\"? All he was supposed to be was a double--and anybody who\n_looked_ like Dionysus would be accepted _as_ Dionysus by the people.\nThe \"psychological resemblance\" didn't have a single thing to do with\nit.\n\nMars, Venus, Vulcan--even Zeus had dropped clues. Zeus had referred to\nhim as a \"substitute for Dionysus.\"\n\nA substitute, he realized with a kind of horror, was not at all the same\nthing as a double.\n\nThe answer was perfectly clear, but there were even more facts to\nbolster it. Why had he been tested, for instance, _after_ he had been\nmade a demi-God? In spite of what Vulcan had said, was he slated for\nfurther honors if he passed the new tests? He was sure that Vulcan had\nbeen telling the truth as far as he'd gone--but it hadn't been the whole\ntruth. Forrester was certain of that now.\n\nAnd what was it that Venus had said during that argument with Mars?\nSomething about not killing Forrester, because then they would have to\n\"get another--\"\n\nAnother _what_?\n\nAnother _substitute_?\n\nNo, there was no escape from the simple and obvious conclusion. Dionysus\nwas either missing, which was bad enough, or something much worse.\n\nHe was dead.\n\nForrester shivered. The idea of an immortal God dying was, in one way,\nas horrible a notion as he could imagine. But in another way, it seemed\nto make a good deal of sense. As far as plain William Forrester had been\nconcerned, the contradiction in the notion of a dead immortal would have\nmade it ridiculous to start with. But the demi-God Dionysus had a\nsomewhat different slant on things.\n\nAfter all, as Vulcan had told him, a demi-God could die. And if that was\ntrue, then why couldn't a God die too? Perhaps it would take quite a lot\nto kill a God--but the difference would be one of degree, not of kind.\n\nIt seemed wholly logical. And it led, Forrester saw, to a new\nconclusion, one that required a little less effort to face than he\nthought it would. It should have shaken the foundations of his childhood\nand left him dizzy, but somehow it didn't. How long, he asked himself,\nhad he been secretly doubting the fact that the Gods were Gods?\n\nAt least in the sense they pretended to be, the \"Gods\" were not gods at\nall. They were--something else.\n\nBut what? Where did they come from?\n\nWere they actually the Gods of ancient Greece, as they claimed?\nForrester wanted to throw that claim out with the rest, but when he\nthought things over he didn't see why he should. To an almost\nindestructible being, three thousand years may only be a long time.\n\nSo the Gods actually were \"Gods,\" at least as far as longevity went. But\nthe decision didn't get him very far; there were still a lot of\nquestions unanswered, and no way that he could see of answering them.\n\nOr, rather, there was one way, but it was hellishly dangerous. He had no\nbusiness even thinking about. He was in enough hot water already.\n\nNevertheless....\n\nWhat more harm could he do to his chances? After the Bacchanal fiasco,\nthere was probably a sentence of death hanging over his head anyhow. And\nthey couldn't do any more to him than kill him.\n\nIt was ridiculous, he told himself, with a return of caution and sanity.\nBut the notion came back, nagging at his mind, and at last it took a new\nform.\n\nThe Gods had the rest of the information he needed. He had to go to one\nof them--but which one?\n\nHis first thought was Venus. But, after a moment of thought, he ruled\nher regretfully out as a possibility. After all, there was Mars' mention\nof her \"predecessor.\" If that meant anything, it meant that the current\nVenus wasn't the original one. She would have a lot less information\nthan one of the original Gods.\n\n_If there were any originals left...._\n\nHe tabled that thought hurriedly and went on. Vulcan had told him at\nleast a part of the truth, and Vulcan looked like a good bet. Forrester\ndidn't like the idea of bearding the artisan in his workshop; it made\nhim feel uncomfortable, and after a while he put his finger on the\nreason. His little liaison with Venus made him feel guilty. There was,\nhe knew, no real reason for it. In the first place, he hadn't known the\ngirl was Venus, and in the second place she may not have been the same\none who had been Vulcan's original wife, thirty and more centuries ago.\n\nBut the guilt remained, and he tabled Vulcan for the time being and went\non.\n\nMorpheus, Hera, and most of the others he passed by without a glance;\nthere was no reason for them to dislike him, but there was no reason for\ncomradeship, either. Mars popped into his mind, and popped right out\nagain. That would be putting his head in the lion's mouth with a\nvengeance.\n\nNo, there was only one left, the obvious choice, the one who had helped\nhim throughout his training period--Diana. She genuinely seemed to like\nhim. She was also a good kid. The thought alone was almost enough to\nmake him smile fondly, and would have if he had not remembered the peril\nhe was in.\n\nHe turned away from the window to look at the color-swirled wall across\nthe room. He had remained in his room ever since Mars and Venus had\nbrought him back from New York, and he wasn't at all sure that he could\nleave it. In the normal sense of the word, the place had neither exits\nnor entrances. The only way of getting in or out of the place was via\nthe Veils of Heaven--matter transmitters, not something supernatural, he\nrealized now.\n\nAs far as Forrester knew, they still worked. But the Gods could generate\na Veil anywhere, at any time. Forrester, as a demi-God, could only will\none into existence on sufferance; he could only work the\nmatter-transmitting Veils if the Gods permitted him to do so. If they\ndidn't, he was trapped.\n\nWell, he told himself, there was one way to find out.\n\nHe walked over to the wall and stood a few feet away from it,\nconcentrating in the way he had been taught. He was still slower at it\nthan the Gods themselves, and hadn't developed the knack of forming a\nVeil as he walked toward the place where he wanted it to be, as they\nhad.\n\nBut he knew he could do it--if he was still allowed to.\n\nMinutes went by.\n\nThen, as the blue sheet of neural energy flickered into being, Forrester\nslumped in sudden relief. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.\n\nThe Veil was there--but was it what he hoped, or a trick? Possibly he\ncould focus the other terminal where he wanted it, but there was also\nthe chance that the Gods had set the thing up so that, when he stepped\nthrough, he would be standing in the Court of the Gods facing a tribunal\nfor which he was totally unprepared.\n\nIt would be just like the Pantheon, he thought, to pull a lousy trick\nlike that.\n\nBut there was no point in dithering. If death was to be his fate, that\nwould be that. He could do nothing at all by sitting in his room and\nwaiting for them to come and get him.\n\nHe focused the exit terminal in Diana's apartment. There was no way of\nknowing whether the focus worked or not until he stepped through.\n\nHe opened his eyes and walked into the Veil.\n\nHe felt almost disappointed when he looked around him. He had steeled\nhimself to do great battle with the Gods--and, instead, he was where he\nhad wanted to be, in Diana's apartment.\n\nShe was standing with her back to him, and Forrester didn't make a\nsound, not wanting to startle the Goddess. She was totally unclad, her\nglorious body shining in the light of the room, her blue-black hair\nunbound and falling halfway down her gently curved back. But she must\nhave heard him somehow, for she turned, and for half a second she stood\nfacing him.\n\nForrester did not move. He couldn't even breathe.\n\nEvery magnificent curve was highlighted in a frozen tableau.\n\nThen there was a sudden flash of white, and she was clad in a clinging\n_chiton_ which, Forrester saw, served only to remind one of what one had\nrecently seen. It worked very well, although Forrester did not think he\nhad any need for an aid to his memory.\n\n\"My goodness!\" Diana said. \"You shouldn't surprise a girl like that! I\nmean, you really gave me a shock, kid!\"\n\nForrester took his first breath. \"Well,\" he said, \"I could be dishonest,\nnot to mention ungallant, and tell you I was sorry.\"\n\n\"But?\" Diana said.\n\n\"Being of sound mind and sound body, I'm a long way from being sorry.\"\n\nAnd Diana dropped her eyes and blushed.\n\nForrester could barely believe it.\n\nBut it did show a part of the Goddess's personality that was entirely\nnew to him. He was sure that any of the Gods or Goddesses could sense\nwhen a Veil of Heaven was forming near them, and get prepared before it\nwas well enough developed to allow for passage. But Diana--who was,\nafter all, one of the traditionally virgin Goddesses, like Pallas\nAthena--had chosen to pretend surprise.\n\nForrester had a further hunch, too. He thought she might have\ndeliberately vanished her _chiton_ only a second or so before he\nentered. And that put a different--and a very interesting--face on\nthings.\n\nNot to mention, he thought, an entire figure.\n\nBut he didn't say anything. That wasn't his main business in Diana's\napartment. Instead, he watched her smile briskly and say: \"Well, you're\nhere, anyhow, kid, and I guess that's enough for me. Want a drink? I\ncould whip up some nectar--and maybe an ambrosia sandwich?\"\n\n\"I'll take the drink,\" Forrester said. \"I'm not really hungry, thanks.\"\n\nDiana held out her hands, fingers curved inward, and a crystal cup of\nclear, golden liquid appeared in each--matter transmission, of course,\nnot magic. She handed one over to Forrester, who took it and looked the\nGoddess straight in the eyes.\n\n\"Thanks,\" he said. \"Diana, I've got some questions to ask you, and I\nhope I'll get the answers.\"\n\nShe touched the rim of her cup to his. Her voice was very soft, but she\ndidn't hesitate in the least. \"I'll answer any questions I have to. Sit\ndown.\"\n\nThey found chairs along the walls of the room and sat facing one\nanother. Forrester took a sip of his drink, settled back, and tried to\nthink where to begin. Well, God or no God, Zeus had the key to that one.\nHe had said it years ago, and it had passed almost into legend:\n\n\"Begin at the beginning, go on until you reach the end, and then stop.\"\n\nVery well, Forrester thought. He cleared his throat. Diana looked at him\ninquiringly.\n\n\"I don't know how far into the noose I'm putting my head with this one,\nDiana,\" he said. \"But I trust you--and I've got to ask somebody.\"\n\n\"Go ahead,\" she said quietly.\n\n\"First question. The original Dionysus is dead, isn't he?\"\n\nShe paused for a moment before answering. \"Yes, he is.\"\n\n\"And I was scheduled to take his place.\"\n\n\"That's right.\"\n\n\"As a full God,\" Forrester said.\n\nDiana nodded.\n\nThere was a little silence.\n\n\"Diana,\" Forrester said, \"what are the Gods?\"\n\nShe got up and crossed to the window. Looking out, she said: \"Before I\nanswer that, I want you to tell me what you think we are.\"\n\n\"Men and women,\" he said. \"More or less human, like myself. Except\nyou've somehow managed to get so far ahead of any kind of science Earth\nknows that, even today, your effects can only be explained as 'magic' or\n'miracle.'\"\n\n\"How could we get that far ahead of you?\"\n\nForrester took a leap in the dark to the only conclusion he could see.\n\"You're not from Earth,\" he said. \"You're from another planet.\" The\nwords sounded strange in his own ears--but Diana didn't even act\nsurprised.\n\n\"That's right,\" she said. \"We're from another planet--or, rather, from\nseveral other planets.\"\n\n\"_Several?_\" Forrester exclaimed. \"But--oh. I see. Pan, for instance--\"\n\nDiana nodded. \"Pan isn't even really humanoid. His home is a planet\nwhere his type of goatlike life evolved. Neither Pluto nor Neptune is\nhumanoid, either; they're a little closer than Pan, but not really very\nclose when you get a good look. The rest of the Gods are humanoid--but\nnot human.\"\n\n\"Wait a minute,\" Forrester said. \"Venus is human. Or, anyhow, she's a\nreplacement, just the way I was slated to be a replacement for\nDionysus.\"\n\nDiana drained her cup and clapped her hands together on it. The cup\nvanished. Forrester did the same to his own. \"Correct,\" she said. \"Venus\njust--just disappeared once. They got an Etruscan girl to replace her.\nShe's not the only replacement, either.\"\n\nForrester stared. \"Who else?\"\n\n\"You tell me.\"\n\nHe thought the list of Gods over. \"Zeus,\" he said.\n\nDiana smiled. \"Yes, Zeus is a long way from the great hero of the\nlegends, isn't he? Using the old calendar, Zeus died in about 1100 B.C.,\nnot too long after the close of the Trojan War. As far as anybody knows,\nNeptune did the actual killing, but it's pretty clear that the original\nidea wasn't his.\"\n\n\"Hera's,\" Forrester guessed.\n\n\"Of course,\" Diana said. \"What she wanted was a figurehead she could\ncontrol--and that's what she got. Though I'm not sure she's entirely\nhappy with the change. If the original Zeus was a little harder to\ncontrol, at least he seems to have had an original thought now and\nagain.\"\n\nForrester sat quietly for a time, waiting for the shock to pass. \"What\nabout Dionysus?\"\n\nDiana shrugged. \"He--well, as far as anybody's ever been able to tell,\nit was suicide. About three years ago, and it drove Hera pretty wild,\ntrying to find a substitute in a hurry. I suspect he was bored with the\nwine, women and song. He'd had a long time of it. And, too, he'd had\nsome little disagreements with Hera. As you may have gathered, she is\nnot exactly a safe person to have as an enemy. He probably figured she'd\nget him sooner or later, so he might as well save her the trouble.\"\n\n\"And Hera had to rush to get a replacement? Why couldn't there just have\nbeen some sort of explanation, while the rest of you ran things?\"\n\n\"Because the rest of us couldn't run things. Not for long, anyhow. It's\nall a question of power.\"\n\n\"Power?\" Forrester said.\n\n\"Everything we have,\" Diana said, \"is derived, directly or indirectly,\nfrom the workings of one machine. Though 'machine' is a long way from\nthe right word for it--it bears about as much resemblance to what you\nthink of as a machine as a television set does to a window. There just\nisn't a word for it in any language you know.\"\n\n\"And all the Gods have to work the machine at once?\"\n\n\"Something like that.\" Diana came back from the window and sat down\nfacing him again. \"It operates through the nervous systems of the beings\nin circuit with it, each one of them in contact with one of the power\nnodes of the machine. And if one of the nodes is unoccupied, then the\nmachine's out of balance. It will run for a while, but eventually it\nwill simply wreck itself. Every one of the fifteen nodes has to be\noccupied. Otherwise--chaos.\"\n\nForrester nodded. \"So when Dionysus died--\"\n\n\"We had to find a replacement in a hurry. The machine's been running out\nof balance for about as long as it can stand right now.\"\n\nForrester closed his eyes. \"I'm not sure I get the picture.\"\n\n\"Well, look at it this way: suppose you have a wheel.\"\n\n\"All right,\" Forrester said obligingly. \"I have a wheel.\"\n\n\"And this wheel has fifteen weights on it. They're spaced equally around\nthe rim, and the wheel's revolving at high speed.\"\n\nForrester kept his eyes closed. When he had the wheel nicely spinning,\nhe said: \"Okay. Now what?\"\n\n\"Well,\" Diana said, \"as long as the weights stay in place, the wheel\nspins evenly. But if you remove one of the weights, the wheel's out of\nbalance. It starts to wobble.\"\n\nForrester took one of the weights (Dionysus, a rather large, jolly\nweight) off the wheel in his mind. It wobbled. \"Right,\" he said.\n\n\"It can take the wobble for a little while. But unless the balance is\nrestored in time, the wheel will eventually break.\"\n\nHurriedly, Forrester put Dionysus back on the wheel. The wobble stopped.\n\"Oh,\" he said. \"I see.\"\n\n\"Our power machine works in that sort of way. That is, it requires all\nfifteen occupants. Dionysus has been dead for three years now, and\nthat's about the outside limit. Unless he's replaced soon, the machine\nwill be ruined.\"\n\nForrester opened his eyes. The wheel spun away and disappeared. \"So you\nfound me to replace Dionysus. I had to look like him, so the mortals\nwouldn't see any difference. And the psychological similarity--\"\n\n\"That's right,\" Diana said. \"It's the same as the wheel again. If you\nremove a weight, you've got to put back a weight of the same magnitude.\nOtherwise, the wheel's still out of balance.\"\n\n\"And since the power machine works through the nervous system--\"\n\n\"The governing factor is that similarity. You've got to be of the same\nmagnitude as Dionysus. Of course, you don't have to be an _identical_\ncopy. The machine can be adjusted for _slight_ differences.\"\n\n\"I see,\" Forrester said. \"And the fifteen power nodes--\" Another idea\noccurred to him. \"Wait a minute. If there are only fifteen power nodes,\nthen how come there were so many different Gods and Goddesses among the\nGreeks? There were a lot more than fifteen back then.\"\n\n\"Of course there were,\" Diana said, \"but they weren't real Gods. As a\nmatter of fact, some of them didn't really exist.\"\n\nForrester frowned. \"How's that again?\"\n\n\"They were just disguises for one of the regular fifteen. Aesculapius,\nfor instance, the old God of medicine, was Hermes/Mercury in\ndisguise--he took the name in honor of a physician of the time. He would\nhave raised the man to demi-Godhood, but Aesculapius died unexpectedly,\nand we thought taking his 'spirit' into the Pantheon was good public\nrelations.\"\n\n\"How about the others?\" Forrester said. \"They weren't all disguises,\nwere they?\"\n\n\"Of course not. Some of them were demi-Gods, just like yourself. Their\npower was derived, like yours, from the Pantheon instead of directly\nthrough the machine. And then there were the satyrs and centaurs, and\nsuchlike beings. That was public relations, too--mainly Zeus' idea, I\nunderstand. The original Zeus, of course.\"\n\n\"Of course,\" Forrester said.\n\n\"The satyrs and such were artificial life-forms, created, maintained and\ncontrolled by the machine itself. It's equipped with what you might call\na cybernetic brain--although that's pretty inadequate as a description.\nVulcan could do a better job of explaining.\"\n\n\"Perfectly all right. I don't understand that kind of thing anyhow.\"\n\n\"Well, in that case, let me put it this way. The machine controlled\nthese artificial forms, but they could be taken over by any one of the\nGods or demi-Gods for special purposes. As I say, it was public\nrelations--and a good way to keep the populace impressed--and under\ncontrol.\"\n\n\"The creatures aren't around nowadays,\" Forrester pointed out.\n\n\"Nowadays we don't need them,\" Diana said. \"There are other\nmethods--better public relations, I suppose.\"\n\nForrester didn't know he was going to ask his next question until he\nheard himself doing so. But it was the question he really wanted to ask;\nhe knew that as soon as he knew he asked it.\n\n\"Why?\" he said.\n\nDiana looked at him with a puzzled expression. \"Why? What do you mean?\"\n\n\"Why go on being Gods? Why dominate humanity?\"\n\n\"I suppose I could answer your question with another question--why not?\nBut I won't. Instead, let me remind you of some things. Look what we've\ndone during the last century. The great wars that wrecked Europe--you\ndon't see any possibility of more of those, do you? And the threat of\natomic war is gone, too, isn't it?\"\n\n\"Well, yes,\" Forrester said, \"but--\"\n\n\"But we still have wars,\" Diana said. \"Sure we do. The male animal just\nwouldn't be happy if he didn't have a chance to go out and get himself\nblown to bits once in a while. Don't ask _me_ to explain that--I'm not a\nmale.\"\n\nForrester agreed silently. Diana was not a male. It was the most\nunderstated statement he had ever heard.\n\n\"But anyhow,\" Diana said, \"they want wars, so they have wars. Mars sees\nthat the wars stay small and keep within the Martian Conventions,\nthough, so any really widespread damage or destruction, or any wanton\nattacks on civilians, are a thing of the past. And it's not only wars,\nkid. It's everything.\"\n\n\"What do you mean, everything?\"\n\n\"Man needs a god, a personal god. When he doesn't have one ready to\nhand, he makes one up--and look at the havoc that has caused. A god of\nvengeance, a god who cheers you on to kill your enemies.... You've\nstudied history. Tell me about the gods of various nations. Tell me\nabout Thor and Baal and the original bloodthirsty Yahweh. People _need_\ngods.\"\n\n\"Now wait a minute,\" Forrester objected. \"The Chinese--\"\n\n\"Oh, sure,\" Diana said. \"There are exceptions. But you can't bank on the\nexceptions. If you want a reasonably safe, sane and happy humanity, then\nyou'd better make sure your gods are not going to start screaming for\nwar against the neighbors or against the infidels or against--well,\nagainst anybody and everybody. There's only one way to make sure, kid.\nWe've found that way. We _are_ the Gods.\"\n\nForrester digested that one slowly. \"It sounds great, but it's pretty\naltruistic. And while I don't want to impugn anybody's motives, it does\nseem to me that--\"\n\n\"That we ought to be getting something out of it ourselves, above and\nbeyond the pure joy of helping humanity. Sure. You're perfectly right.\nAnd we _do_ get something out of it.\"\n\n\"Like what?\"\n\nDiana grinned. She looked more like a tomboy than ever before. \"Fun,\"\nshe said. \"And you know it. Don't tell me you didn't get a kick out of\nplaying God at the Bacchanal.\"\n\n\"Well,\" Forrester confessed, \"yes.\" He sighed. \"And I guess that\nBacchanal is going to be the one really high spot in a very shortened\nsort of life.\"\n\nDiana sat upright. \"What are you talking about?\"\n\n\"What else would I be talking about? The Bacchanal. You know what\nhappened. You must know--everybody must by now. Mars is probably\ndemanding my head from Hera right now. Unless he's got more complicated\nideas like taking me apart limb by limb. I remember he mentioned that.\"\n\nDiana stood up and came over to Forrester. \"Why would Mars do something\nlike that and especially now? And what makes you think Hera would go\nalong with him if he did?\"\n\n\"Why not? Now that I've failed my tests--\"\n\n\"_Failed?_\" Diana cried. \"You _haven't_ failed!\"\n\nForrester stood up shakily. \"Of course I have. After what happened at\nthe Bacchanal, I--\"\n\n\"Don't pay any attention to that,\" Diana said. \"Mars is a louse. Always\nhas been, I hear. Nobody likes him. As a matter of fact, you've just\npassed your finals. The last test was to see if you could figure out who\nwe were--and you've done that, haven't you?\"\n\nThere was a long, taut silence.\n\nThen Diana laughed. \"Your face looks the way mine must have, over three\nthousand years ago!\"\n\n\"What are you talking about?\" Still dazed, he wasn't quite sure he had\nheard her rightly.\n\n\"When they told me the same thing. After the original Diana was killed\nin a 'hunting accident'--frankly, she seems to have been too independent\nto suit Hera--and I passed my own finals, I--\"\n\nShe stopped.\n\n\"Now don't look at me like that,\" Diana said. \"And pull yourself\ntogether, because we've got to get to the Final Investiture. But it's\nall true. I'm a substitute too.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER ELEVEN\n\n\nThe Great God Dionysus, Lord of the Vine, Ruler of the Revels, Master of\nthe Planting and the Harvest, Bestower of the Golden Touch, Overseer of\nthe Poor, Comforter of the Worker and Patron of the Drunkard, sat\nsilently in a cheap bar on Lower Third Avenue, New York, slowly imbibing\nhis seventh brandy-and-soda. It tasted anything but satisfactory as it\nwent down; he preferred vodka or even gin, but after all, he asked\nhimself, if a God couldn't be loyal to his own products, then who could?\n\nHe was dressed in an inexpensive brown suit, and his face did not look\nlike that of Dionysus, or even of William Forrester. Though neatly\nturned out, he looked a little like an out-of-work bookkeeper. But it\nwas obvious that he hadn't been out of work for very long.\n\n_Hell of a note_, he thought, _when a God has to skulk in some cheap bar\njust because some other God has it in for him_.\n\nBut that, unfortunately, was the way Mars was. It didn't matter to him\nthat none of what happened had been Forrester's fault. In the first\nplace, Forrester hadn't known that the girl at the Bacchanal had been\nVenus until it was much too late for apologies. In the second place, he\nhadn't even picked her; he'd kept his promise not to use his powers on\nthe spinning figure of Mr. Bottle Symes. But Venus had made no such\npromise. Venus had rigged the game.\n\nBut try explaining that to Mars.\n\nHe didn't seem to mind what went on at the Revels of Aphrodite--being\nGoddess of Love was her line of work, and even Mars appeared to\nrecognize that much. But he didn't like the idea of any extracurricular\nwork, especially with other Gods. And if anything occurred, he, Mars,\nwas sure damned well going to find out about it and see that something\nwas done about it, yes, sir.\n\nForrester finished his drink and stared at the empty glass. It had all\nbegun on the day of his Final Investiture, and he had gone through every\nevent in memory, over and over. Why, he didn't know. But it was\nsomething to do while he hid.\n\nIt hadn't been anywhere near as simple as the Investiture he had gone\nthrough to become a demi-God. All fourteen of the other Gods had been\nthere this time; a simple quorum wasn't enough. Pluto, with his\ndead-black, light-absorbent skin casting a shade of gloom about him, had\nslouched into the Court of the Gods, looking at everybody and everything\nwith lackluster eyes. Poseidon/Neptune had come in more briskly,\nsmelling of fish, his skin pale green and glistening wet, his fingers\nand toes webbed and his eyes bulging and wide. Phoebus Apollo had\nstrolled in, looking authentically like a Greek God, face and figure\nunbelievably perfect, and a pleased, stupid smile spread all over his\ncountenance. Hermes/Mercury, slim and wily, with a foxy face and quick\nmovements, had slipped in silently. And all the others had been there,\ntoo. Mars looked grim, but when Forrester was formally proposed for\nGodhood, Mars made no objection.\n\nThe entire Pantheon had then gone single-file through a Veil of Heaven\nto a room Forrester just couldn't remember fully. At the time, his eyes\nsimply refused to make sense out of the place. Now, of course, he\nunderstood why: it didn't really exist in the space-time framework he\nwas used to. Instead, it was partially a four-dimensional\npseudo-manifold superimposed on normal space. If not perfectly simple,\nat least the explanation made matters rational rather than supernatural.\nBut, at the time, everything seemed to take place in a chaotic dream\nworld where infinite distance and the space next to him seemed one and\nthe same. He knew then why Diana had told him that the word \"machine\"\ncould not describe the Gods' power source.\n\nHe had been seated there in the dream room. But it wasn't exactly\nsitting; every spatial configuration took on strange properties in that\npseudo-space, and he seemed to float in a place that had neither\ndimension nor direction. The other Gods had all seemed to be sitting in\nfront of him, all together and all at once--yet, at the same time, each\nhad been separate and distinct from the others.\n\nHe wanted to close his eyes, but he had been warned against doing that.\nGrimly, he kept them open.\n\nAnd then the indescribable began to happen. It was as though every nerve\nin his body had been indissolubly linked to the great source of\nGod-power. It was pure, hellish torture, and at the same time it was the\nmost exquisite pleasure he had ever known. He could not imagine how long\nit went on--but, eventually, it ended.\n\nHe was Dionysus/Bacchus.\n\nAnd then it had been over, and a banquet had been held in his honor, a\ncelebration for the new God. Everyone seemed to enjoy the occasion, and\nForrester himself had been feeling pretty good until Mars, smiling a\nsmile that only touched his lips and left his eyes as cold and hard as\nanything Forrester had ever seen, had come up to him and said softly:\n\n\"All right, Dionysus. You're a God now. I didn't touch you before\nbecause we needed you. And I don't intend to kill you now; replacements\nare too hard to find. I'm only going to beat you--to within an inch of\nyour damned immortal life. Just remember that, buster.\"\n\nAnd then, the smile still set on his face, he had turned and swaggered\naway.\n\nForrester had thought of Vulcan.\n\nMars wasn't a killer, in spite of his bully-boy tactics. He had too good\na military mind to discipline a valuable man to death. But he was more\nthan willing to go as near to that point as possible, if he thought it\njustified. And what he allowed as justification resided in a code all\nhis own.\n\n\"Right\" was what was good for Mars. \"Wrong\" was what disturbed him. That\nwas the code, as simple, as black and white, as you could ask for.\nVulcan was one of the results.\n\nVulcan had been Venus' lawful husband, as far as the laws of the Gods\nwent. That didn't matter to Mars--when he wanted Venus. He had thrashed\nVulcan, and the beating had left permanent damage.\n\nThe damage was translated into Vulcan's limp. Any God's ability to heal\nhimself through the machine's power was dependent on the God's own\nmentality and outlook. And Vulcan had never been able to cure his limp;\nthe psychic punishment had been too great.\n\nForrester ordered another drink and tried to think about something else.\nThe prospect of a fight with Mars was sometimes a little too much for\nhim to handle.\n\nThe drink arrived and he sipped at it vacantly, thinking back to Diana\nand her story of the Gods.\n\nThere was one hole in it--a hole big enough to toss Mount Olympus\nthrough, he realized. Where had the Gods gone for three thousand years?\nAnd how had they gotten to Earth in the first place?\n\nThose two unanswered questions were enough to convince Forrester that,\nin spite of all he knew, and in spite of the way his new viewpoint had\nturned his universe upside down in a matter of hours, he still didn't\nhave the whole story. He had to find it--even more so, now, as he began\nto realize that the human race deserved more than just the \"security\"\nand \"happiness\" that the Gods could give them. It deserved independence,\nand the chance to make or mar its own future. Protection was all very\nwell for the infancy of a race, but man was growing up now. Man needed\nto make his own world.\n\nThe Gods had no place in that world, Forrester saw. He had to find the\nanswers to all of his questions--and now he thought he knew a way to do\nit.\n\n\"Want another, buddy?\"\n\nThe bartender's voice roused Forrester from his reverie. He had\nabsent-mindedly finished brandy-and-soda number eight.\n\n\"Okay,\" Forrester said. \"Sure.\" He handed the bartender a ten-dollar\nbill and got a kind of wry pleasure out of seeing the picture of\nDionysus on its face. \"Let's have another, but more brandy and less soda\nthis time.\"\n\nThe drink was brought and he sipped at it, looking like any ordinary\ncitizen taking on a small load, but tuned to every fluctuation in the\nenergy levels around him, waiting.\n\nOnly a God, he knew, could hurt another God, and even then it took\nplenty of power to do it. Actually to kill a God required the combined\nefforts of more than one, under normal circumstances--though one,\nproperly equipped and with some luck, could manage it. As far as his own\nsituation was concerned, Forrester was prepared for a deadly assault\nfrom Mars. Maybe Mars didn't intend to kill him, but being maimed for\ncenturies, like Vulcan, was nothing to look forward to, and it was just\nas well to be on the safe side. Just in case the God of War had managed\nto get one or two other Gods on his side, Forrester had talked to Diana\nand Venus, and had their agreement to step in on his side if things got\nrough, or if Mars tried to pull anything underhanded.\n\nAnd any minute now....\n\nSuddenly Forrester felt a disturbance in the energy flow around him.\nSomewhere behind him, invisible to the mortals who occupied the bar, a\nVeil of Heaven was beginning to form.\n\nWith a fraction of a second, Forrester was forming his own. But this\ntime he took a little longer than he had before.\n\nIt wasn't the first time he'd had to run. For over a month now, he had\nbeen jumping from place to place, all over the world. He had gone to\nHong Kong first. When Mars had traced him there and made a grab for him,\nForrester had made a quick jump, via Veil, to Durban, South Africa. It\nhad taken Mars all of forty-eight hours to find Forrester hiding in the\nnative quarter, wearing the _persona_ of a Negro laborer. But again\nForrester had disappeared, this time reappearing in Lima, Peru.\n\nAnd so it had gone for five full weeks, with Forrester keeping barely\none jump ahead of the God of War.\n\nAnd, in that month, he had achieved two important things.\n\nFirst, he had begun to make Mars a little overconfident. By now Mars was\nfully convinced that Forrester was nothing but a coward, and he was\nabsolutely certain that he could beat the newcomer easily, if he could\nonly come to grips with him.\n\nSecond, Forrester had discovered that Mars' basic reflexes were a trifle\nslower than his own.\n\nIf Mars had been able to form his own Veil and step through it in time\nto sense the last fading glimmers of Forrester's Veil, he would have\nbeen able to follow immediately. Instead, he had to go to all the\ntrouble of finding Forrester over and over again. That meant slower\nreflexes--and that, Forrester thought, might just give him the edge he\nneeded.\n\nBut this time, Forrester was going to let Mars follow him--slow\nreflexes and all. This time, he waited that extra fraction of a\nsecond--and then stepped through the Veil.\n\nHe was in the middle of a great rain forest. Around him towered trees\nwhose great trunks reached up to a leafy sky. The place was dark; little\nsunlight came through the roof of leaves and curling vines. A bird\nscreamed somewhere in the distance, sounding like a lost soul in agony;\nthe sound was repeated, and then there was silence.\n\nForrester was exactly where he had intended to be: in the middle of the\nAmazon jungle.\n\nHe had time for one look around. Then Mars stepped out of a shimmering\nVeil only yards away from where Forrester was standing. Immediately,\nForrester felt Mars throw out a suppressor field that would keep him\nfrom forming another Veil. He did the same thing. Now, as long as both\nheld their respective fields, neither could leave.\n\n\"Greetings,\" Forrester said.\n\nThe bird screamed again. Mars ignored it.\n\n\"You're just a little too slow,\" he said, grinning. \"And now, buster,\nyou're going to get it--and get it good.\"\n\n\"Who?\" Forrester said. \"Me?\"\n\nMars hissed his breath in and fired a blast of blue-white energy that\nwould have drilled through a foot of armor plate. But Forrester blocked\nit; the splatter of free energy struck at the nearby trees, sending them\ncrashing to the ground. A small blaze started.\n\nForrester followed the blow with one of his own, but Mars parried\nquickly. A few more little fires began in the vicinity. Then Mars\nbellowed and charged.\n\nBy the time he reached the spot where Forrester had been, Forrester was\nfifty feet in the air, standing with his arms folded and looking down in\nan interested manner.\n\n\"You ought to watch out,\" he said. \"You might stumble into a Venus\nFlycatcher down there. I mean besides the one you've got already.\"\n\nMars' mouth dropped open. He gave vent to an inarticulate roar of rage\nand leaped into the air. As he rose toward Forrester, the defender\nclosed his eyes and changed shape. He became a rock and dropped. He\nbounced off Mars' rising forehead with a great noise.\n\nMars roared and dived for the stone--and found himself holding a large,\nangry tiger.\n\nBut an old trick like that didn't fool Mars. Tiger-Forrester, suddenly\nfinding himself fighting with another tiger as ferocious as himself,\nbegan clawing and biting his way free in a frenzy of panic. He managed\nto make it just long enough to become a stone again, dropping toward the\nEarth.\n\nFor a moment, the other tiger seemed uncertain. Then, catching sight of\nthe falling stone, he became an eagle, and went after it with a scream,\nclaws outstretched and a glitter of hatred in the slitted eyes.\n\nForrester reached the ground first. The eagle braked madly, trying to\nescape a giant Kodiak bear. Forrester stood on his hind legs and\nbattered the air with great, murderous paws. Mars scooted upward,\nalready changing into something capable of coping with the bear. A huge,\nbat-winged dragon, breathing barrels of smoke, flapped in the air,\nlooking all around for its opponent. It did not notice Forrester\nscurrying away in the shape of an ant through the leaves and thick humus\nof the jungle floor.\n\nBy now, the air was becoming smoky and the flames were licking up the\nsides of trees all through the vicinity, and racing along the giant\nvines that curled around them. The dragon belched more smoke, adding to\nthe general confusion, and roared in a voice like thunder:\n\n\"Coward! Dionysus! Come out and fight!\"\n\nThere was an instant of crackling silence.\n\nThen Forrester stepped out from behind a blazing tree. He, too, was a\ndragon.\n\nMars snarled, breathed smoke and made a power dive. Forrester dodged and\nthe fangs of the monster missed him by inches. Mars sank claw-deep into\nthe ground, and Forrester slammed the War God on the side of his head\nwith one mighty forepaw. Mars blew out a cloud of evil-smelling smoke\nand managed to jerk himself free. He leaped to all four feet, glaring at\nForrester with great, bulging, hate-filled eyes.\n\n\"Man to man, you bastard!\" he said in a flame-filled roar.\n\nForrester leaped back to avoid being scorched. He poured out some smoke\nof his own. Mars coughed.\n\n\"Damn it, no more shape-changing!\" the War God thundered.\n\n\"Fair enough!\" Forrester shouted. He changed back to his Dionysian form,\ncircling warily until Mars had followed suit. Then the two began to\nclose in slowly.\n\nAround them the forest burned, vegetation even on the swampy ground\ncatching fire as the entire vicinity crackled and hissed with heat.\nNeither of them seemed to take any notice of the fact.\n\nMars was a trained boxer and wrestler, Forrester knew. But it was\nprobably a good many centuries since he'd had any real workouts, and\nForrester was counting heavily on slowed-down reflexes. Those would give\nhim a slight edge.\n\nAt any rate, he hoped so.\n\nThe circling ceased as Mars leaped forward suddenly and lashed out with\na right to the jaw that could end the fight. But Forrester moved his\nhead aside just in time and the fist glanced off his cheek. He staggered\nback just as Mars followed with a left jab to the belly.\n\nForrester clamped down on the War God's wrist and twisted violently,\npulling Mars on past him. The War God, caught off balance, lunged\nforward, tripping over his own feet, and almost fell as he went by.\nForrester, grinning savagely, brought his right hand down on the back of\nMars' neck with a blow whose force would have killed an elephant\noutright.\n\nMars, however, was no mere elephant. He grunted and went down on his\nhands and knees, shaking his head groggily. But he wasn't out. Not\nquite.\n\nForrester doubled up his fist as Mars tried to rise, and came down again\nwith all the force he could muster, squarely on his opponent's neck.\n\nThere was a satisfyingly loud crack, audible, even in the roar of the\nburning forest. Mars collapsed to the ground, smothering small fires\nbeneath his bulk. Forrester leaped on top of him and grabbed his head,\nbeard with one hand and hair with the other. He twisted and the War God\nscreamed in agony. Forrester relaxed the pressure.\n\n\"All right, now,\" he said through clenched teeth. \"Your neck's broken,\nand all I've got to do is twist enough to sever your spinal column.\nYou'll be crippled for as long as Vulcan has--maybe longer.\"\n\nMars shrieked again. \"I yield! I yield!\"\n\nForrester held on. \"Not just yet you don't,\" he said grimly. \"I want\nsome information, and I'm going to get it out of you if I have to wring\nthem out vertebra by vertebra.\"\n\nMars tried to buck. Forrester twisted again and the War God subsided,\nbreathing hard. At last he muttered: \"What do you want to know?\"\n\n\"Why did you and the other Gods leave Earth for three thousand years?\nAnd where did you come from in the first place? I want the _real_\nreason, chum.\" He applied a little pressure, just as a reminder.\n\n\"I'll tell you!\" Mars screamed. \"I'll tell you!\"\n\nAnd as the roaring flames crackled in the Amazon forest, the agonized\nMars began to talk.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER TWELVE\n\n\nZeus, Venus, Diana and Forrester sat in the Court of the Gods, listening\nto a large, blue-skinned individual with bright red eyes and two long\nwhite fangs coming from a lipless mouth. The eyes were like a cat's,\nwith slitted pupils, and the general expression on the individual's face\nwas one of feral hatred and bestial madness. However, as he had\nexplained, he was not responsible for the arrangement of his features.\nHe was, he kept saying, only interested in the general welfare. What was\nmore, it was his business to be interested. He was, as a matter of fact,\na cop: Bor Mellistos, of the Interstellar Police.\n\n\"My rank,\" he had told them mildly, \"is about the equivalent of your\nDetective Inspector.\"\n\n\"Technically,\" he was saying now, \"you are all four guilty of being\naccessories--as I understand your local law phrases it. However--\"\n\nHe smiled. It made him look unbelievably horrible. Forrester tried not\nto pay any attention to it.\n\n\"However,\" he went on, \"in view of the fact that none of you could\npossibly have known that you were, in fact, accessories--that is, that\nyou were dealing with a criminal group, if you understand me--plus the\nfact that Mr. Forrester, as soon as he did discover the facts, called us\nat once through the power machine--I feel that we can overlook your part\nin the matter.\"\n\nVenus frowned. \"Wait a minute. I'm not sure I understand this at all.\nWhat crime are the Gods supposed to have committed?\"\n\n\"Not crime, miss,\" Bor Mellistos said. His eyes twinkled. Forrester\ngulped and turned away. \"Crimes. Misuse of a neural power machine, for\none--and the domination and enslavement of a less advanced intelligent\nculture for another. Both those are very serious crimes.\"\n\n\"Less advanced culture?\" Forrester said. \"You mean us?\"\n\n\"I'm afraid so, sir,\" Bor Mellistos said. \"You see, all the members of\nmy culture are attuned to the power nodes of one neural machine or\nanother, but this power is not meant to be misused. We have been\nsearching for this group for a long time now.\"\n\n\"And you first got wind of them on Earth about three thousand years\nago?\"\n\n\"A little more than that, actually,\" Bor Mellistos said, \"if you don't\nmind the correction.\"\n\n\"Not at all,\" Forrester said, looking at the fangs of the Detective\nInspector.\n\n\"We were alerted after the radiations had been coming in for some time.\nThe search for this group wasn't nearly as urgent then.\"\n\n\"And that's why they had to go into hiding?\" Diana asked.\n\n\"Correct, miss,\" Bor Mellistos said. \"The only one we managed to catch\nwas the woman calling herself Aphrodite, or Venus.\" He looked at the\nsubstitute Venus. \"That's the one you replaced, miss.\"\n\n\"How did you catch her?\" Forrester pursued.\n\n\"Well,\" Bor Mellistos said, turning a faint shade of orange with\nembarrassment, \"she was--ah--engaged in a secret liaison with a mortal\nat the time. Knowing that two of the other gentlemen would be furious\nwith her if they discovered this fact--\"\n\n\"Mars and Vulcan,\" Forrester supplied.\n\n\"Quite correct, sir,\" Bor Mellistos said. \"Knowing, as I say, that they\nwould be furious, she had taken special pains to hide herself. When the\nalarm reached the others that we were coming, they could not warn her.\nAs a result, when she returned to Mount Olympus, we were waiting for\nher.\"\n\n\"Serves her right!\" Zeus said with indignation.\n\nBor Mellistos said: \"Quite,\" very politely.\n\n\"And then,\" Forrester said, \"you patrolled this place for a while.\"\n\nBor Mellistos nodded. \"We left about three hundred years ago, finally\ndeciding that they had gone elsewhere. By the way, do you know where\nthey were hiding all this time?\"\n\n\"My guess,\" Diana said, \"is that they were here on Earth, of course.\"\n\n\"Naturally, miss,\" Bor Mellistos said. \"But where?\"\n\nZeus shrugged. \"All sorts of places. I ran a tailor shop myself,\npressing and cleaning. I understand that Poseidon and Pluto entered\nfreak shows--they were fine attractions, too. Pan lived mostly in the\nforests, doing well enough for himself running wild. Diana and Athena\nran a small hairdressing studio in Queens. And Venus--\"\n\n\"Please,\" Venus interrupted.\n\n\"Perfectly honorable profession,\" Zeus objected. \"One of the oldest.\nPerhaps the very oldest. And I don't see why--\"\n\n\"Please!\" Venus insisted.\n\nZeus shut up with a little sigh.\n\n\"At any rate,\" Bor Mellistos said, \"that's the story up to date. And now\nthere's only the question of the Overseer positions. Would you like to\nfill them?\"\n\n\"Who?\" Venus asked. \"_Us?_\"\n\n\"Well,\" Bor Mellistos said, \"you have the experience. And we do need\nsomeone to take over. You see, three thousand years ago your technical\nattainments were not large. There was little need for an Overseer. Now,\nhowever, you are nearly at the stage where you will be invited to join\nthe Galactic Federation. And we must make sure you do not do any\nirreparable harm to yourselves during the next few years.\"\n\n\"Well,\" Forrester said, \"how could we--\"\n\n\"If you'll permit me, sir,\" Bor Mellistos said, \"I can explain. You\nwould work much as the so-called Gods did--but with no publicity, and a\ngreater sense of responsibility, if you understand me. Earth would never\nknow you were there.\"\n\n\"I'd have to--stay away from mortals?\" Forrester asked.\n\n\"Exactly,\" Bor Mellistos said.\n\nWell, Forrester thought, it had its compensations. In the three days\nthat the Detective Inspector had been on Earth, Forrester had had time\nto think and to find out some things. Gerda, for instance, was getting\nmarried to Alvin Sherdlap. Forrester wondered what kind of love would\nlet a woman choose a name like Gerda Sherdlap, and decided it was better\nnot to think about it.\n\nWhat did he have to go back to? History classes? Students? Even students\nlike Maya Wilson?\n\nWell, he was sure he could do better than that. He looked at Diana and\nbecame even surer.\n\n\"The remaining eleven Overseers,\" Bor Mellistos was saying, \"will be\nalong shortly. You will then be able to draw fully on the machine. You\nneed merely follow world events and make sure that any--ah--regrettably\n_final_ decisions are not made. Your actions will, of course, be very\nmuch undercover.\"\n\nForrester nodded. \"This mass arrest of the Gods is going to cause an\nupheaval all by itself.\"\n\n\"Quite true, sir. But that will be worked out. I'm afraid I don't really\nknow the details, but doubtless the other eleven who are coming will\ninform you more thoroughly on that score.\"\n\nForrester sighed. \"About the Gods--what kind of punishment will they\nreceive?\"\n\n\"Well, sir,\" Bor Mellistos said, \"it varies. Vulcan, for instance--the\nperson who called himself Vulcan, or Hephaestus--will probably get off\nwith a lighter sentence than the others. He was a mechanic, brought\nalong under some duress to service the machine. But the sentences will\nbe severe, you may be sure. Very severe.\"\n\nForrester didn't feel like asking any more questions about that. There\nwas a pause. He looked at Diana again, and she looked back at him.\n\n\"Do you accept?\" Bor Mellistos said.\n\nForrester and the others nodded.\n\nBor Mellistos said: \"Very well. In that case, I will inform the other\neleven Overseers already picked that they will be met by you here, on\nMount Olympus, and that--\"\n\nBut Forrester wasn't listening.\n\nHe had begun whistling, very softly.\n\nThe song he was whistling was Tenting Tonight.","title":"Pagan Passions","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":44562}