Necessity (20 page)

“Matthias?” I called, uncertainly.

He raised himself and turned, looking towards us for a second, then he leapt to his feet and came running up the aisle, his arms outspread as if to enfold me. “Simmea!” he shouted. “You came at last!”

I had not known what to expect, but being mistaken for my long-dead grandmother was not on the list. I knew I looked a bit like her—several people had told me so, and I was familiar with Crocus's colossus of her so I knew there was indeed a family resemblance between us. It must have been enough, with the light behind me, and Kebes's imagination and memory.

“I'm not Simmea,” I said hastily. I had been told he had been her friend and debate partner, and that he had raped her at a Festival of Hera. Nothing I had heard prepared me for the longing and hope in the way he called her name. I had always imagined him a monster, and I wasn't prepared for the man.

He stopped, and squinted at me. “Then who are you?”

“We come from Athene,” Hermes said. “We want the message she left with you.”

“Let me see you.” Kebes pushed open the church door. Hermes and I followed him out into the agora. The sunlight was blinding after the darkness within. He barely glanced at Hermes before staring at me avidly. I looked back at him. He was a burly man who seemed about my own age. He had a broad forehead from which his hair was starting to recede. “You look so much like her. Are you her daughter? Our daughter? Brought here out of time? What's your name?”

“My name's Marsilia. Simmea was my grandmother,” I admitted. I felt sorry for him, which wasn't anything I'd ever have predicted.

“Your grandmother? And you live on Kallisti? In the original city? In the future?”

“In the original city, yes.” The Relocation was too complicated to go into.

Kebes was staring at me so delightedly that it made me uncomfortable. “And you're a Gold?”

My hand went to touch my pin, and I glanced automatically at his shoulder as he said this, and saw to my surprise that he wasn't wearing any pin at all, though I knew he was a Gold. “I'm a Gold,” I confirmed. He was so different from the way I had expected.

“Let's sit down and have a drink,” he said. I looked at Hermes.

“We only really want to take the message from Athene and go,” he said.

“We need to talk about that. And I want to talk to my granddaughter,” Kebes said.

“Then by all means let's have a drink,” Hermes said. The little breeze was stirring up ankle-high swirls of dust in the empty agora. We walked across it to the tables outside the cafe. I wondered whether to tell Kebes I wasn't his granddaughter. It seemed a cruel deception, but equally cruel to undeceive him now he had deceived himself this way.

We sat down, and Kebes banged on the table, startling both me and the debating couple, who looked up at us for a moment before they turned back to their work. A woman came scurrying out from inside. She wore a bronze pin, and she looked tired and hot. “Wine, with water as cold as you can make it,” Kebes demanded. “And quickly!” I didn't like the way he spoke to her, and I was made even more uncomfortable by the cringing way she smiled, as if she agreed with him that he was more important than she was. I watched her as she went back inside. Between this time and my own, things had definitely improved in Lucia in terms of how the classes interacted.

Kebes turned to me and smiled. “Do you have family?” he asked.

It seemed like such a normal question, the kind anyone might ask, and which I wasn't expecting from a monster. “Yes. Parents, a sister and a daughter,” I said. I was used to saying this, but even so I couldn't look at Hermes and I could feel my cheeks heating with embarrassment.

“A daughter?” he asked. “How old is she?”

“Seven,” I said.

“She'd say seven and a half,” Hermes said. He was leaning back in his chair, completely relaxed.

“Could you bring her here?” Kebes asked him.

“Alkippe? Why?” I was horrified. I was taking these risks to keep her safe!

“I thought you'd want her with you. You can have a lovely house, next to mine, with plenty of servants. We have public baths and—”

“I'm not staying!” I interrupted before he said anything worse. Servants! I didn't know what year it was, or how long it was before the Relocation, but I didn't want to give up my life and live in Lucia deep in the past, nor was that where I wanted Alkippe to grow up. The thought was stifling, worse, terrifying.

“But you can be free here, without all that evil nonsense,” Kebes said.

“What nonsense?” I asked warily.

“Festivals of Hera, and Plato, and worshipping demons,” he said, with a glance at Hermes. “You could get married properly. You're my family, and we can be together. You can help with our great work of rescuing and resettling people. And most importantly, you can come to know the true God. Yayzu can save your soul.”

“No!” I protested. “You know nothing about me, and you're trying to take control of my life without any idea of who I am or what I want.”

Kebes drew breath to reply, but as he did the woman came back with a tray with the two jugs, the mixer, and three cups. Kebes kept quiet but otherwise ignored her, as if she were an animal moving about. She set the things down carefully on the table. I smiled at her, and she smiled uncertainly back. Kebes was reaching for a coin, but I was faster, pulling one out of the purse Hermes had given me, glad now that I had it. “No change,” I said. She thanked me profusely. I took hold of the jugs and mixed the wine half and half, as Plato recommends, and then added a bit more water, and poured it into the cups. The utensils were plain but sturdy and well shaped.

Kebes took a cup. Although I had paid for the wine, I didn't want to drink with him and make him my guest-friend. I drew a cup towards me but did not pick it up. Hermes did the same, twisting the stem in his long fingers. The woman went over to the other table and answered some query they had.

The pause had given me time to think what to say. “I appreciate that you mean well, but I don't worship demons. I am perfectly happy with Plato and festivals. I am a Gold, and this year I'm consul. I'm an important person at home. People want me to make decisions and sort things out. I spent a year as envoy to Lucia in my own time, and it's thriving, but I was glad to go home again. I already know about Yayzu. We have Ikarian temples in the City; we have freedom of worship. I could marry at home, if there were anyone I wanted to marry. I have my own complicated life and you don't know anything about it. I have no desire to be uprooted from it and come here.”

“But I'm your grandfather! Family should be together.”

“I don't think you are my grandfather,” I said, gently. It seemed absurd in any case as we were about the same age. “And I am close to the family I know.” They all felt extremely dear to me now, even though Ma never approved of anything I did and Thetis drove me crazy regularly.

“Athene promised me, a descendant of mine and Simmea's,” he said.

“She did?” I wouldn't have thought she'd be so cruel. Then as he moved his head and I saw the breadth of his forehead, I remembered how he had reminded me of Ma when I had seen him on the boat. There was something about his chin too that was like her, especially now that he was leaning forward. Ma was festival-born and didn't know either parent. Kebes had participated in festivals when he'd been in the City, so he could possibly be her father. Ma had hated him the one time they'd met, so I knew she'd be absolutely horrified if I mentioned this theory to her. But if he was her father, since Simmea was Dad's mother, then it was possible that Thetis and I could be descended from both of them. But even if this was true, it was an unkind trick of Athene's to make him believe he'd had a child with Simmea, when it clearly meant so much to him. Then I remembered that if it had existed, it would have been a child of rape, and stopped feeling sorry for him.

“Athene can't have promised you Marsilia would stay here,” Hermes said, picking up his cup.

“But I want her to,” he said. “And she'll like it when she gets the chance to know it. I won't give you the message otherwise.”

“No,” Hermes said, putting his cup down again firmly. I was relieved he was being so staunch, and then I remembered that moment on the harbor earlier in my time but later for Kebes. Hermes knew I wouldn't have to stay, and so did I. What a relief! Being caught up by Necessity suddenly felt wonderful. “What did Athene say?”

“That if I would do as she and Necessity asked me, and keep the message for her, then a descendant of mine and Simmea's would come for it,” Kebes said, sulkily.

“How could she know?” I wondered aloud.

“She gave you Hilfa, she knew you and Thetis would be involved. If I hadn't brought you, I could have gone to get one of you, and either of you would have agreed,” Hermes said. He turned back to Kebes. “Marsilia came. You've seen her. You know she's happy, and she doesn't want to live here and now. She has told you Lucia is thriving in her own time. Now, give us the message.”

“What will you give me for it?”

“Money?” I offered. I had no idea how much, but I could keep pulling coins out of the purse until he was satisfied.

“He's a demon,” Kebes said, jerking a thumb at Hermes. “Treasure is nothing to what he can do.”

Of course, he had been one of Sokrates's disciples, he
couldn't
be stupid.

“I'm a god, but it's true that there are a great many things I can do,” Hermes said smoothly. “So there must be something else I can trade you for it. Nothing that involves people doing things against their will. What else do you want?”

“Workers,” Kebes said promptly. “We could do so much more if we had Workers to build and make.”

Hermes shook his head. “Not possible. Workers are people too.”

Kebes frowned, nodded, drank again and put his empty cup down. I refilled it. “Then I want to spend time in a different time. Somewhere I can learn to do the things Workers do, and then come back here without losing any time.”

“That ought to be possible. What in particular?” Hermes asked.

“Making glass. And electricity. And the place where you take me has to be Christian.”

Hermes smiled enigmatically. “What languages do you speak?”

Kebes glanced around to see whether anyone could overhear. The other customers had left, and the woman serving had retreated inside. I could hear hammering from somewhere, but nobody was close. “Greek, Latin, and Italian,” he said, quietly. “I haven't had the chance to speak it since I was a child, but it's very like Latin and I know I haven't forgotten it.”

“Then I have somewhere for you. It's New Venice on Mars in 2140. They speak Italian and Chinese. They're mostly Christians of some kind, I forget the exact sects. You could spend a year there learning glassblowing, which is one of their special arts. You'd pick up enough about electricity I expect—they certainly use it for a lot of things. They have Workers. Then I can bring you back here only a few minutes after you left.”

“What's the catch?” Kebes asked, warily.

“You have to pray to me,” Hermes said.

“No.” Kebes drained his almost full cup and put it down. “I'm not risking my soul praying to demons.”

“Did I mention I'd send you there immediately before the Worker Rebellion?” Hermes asked. “You could have a year learning glassblowing and helping Workers plan a revolution to gain their freedom.”

“Get thee behind me, Satan,” Kebes said.

“I'm not Satan, and I'm not particularly interested in your soul. If you don't want to go to New Venice, simply give me Athene's message now and we'll go away and leave you in peace.”

“Why does he have to pray to you?” I asked.

“So I can do it,” Hermes said.

“You're not tormenting him for the fun of it?”

Kebes had his eyes closed and his face screwed up. His fists were clenched on the tabletop. He looked like one of those Christian images of a man being martyred for his faith.

Hermes grinned at me over his head. “No. I really can't do it without the prayer. The torment is merely a bonus. Look, Kebes, it doesn't have to be the sort of prayer you're thinking of. You don't have to abase yourself or anything. Simply say ‘Oh god of riddles and play, master of shape and form, you that I see before me, please take me to Mars.'”

“How about if I prayed to you for it on his behalf?” I asked.

“Oh, that's no fun,” Hermes complained.

“Do you want me to do that?” I asked. “Kebes? Matthias?”

Kebes opened his eyes and stared at me. “You are so like her,” he said. “I want to go. But what about your soul?”

“You'll have to let me worry about my own soul,” I said. “I pray to the Olympians all the time. I've fulfilled every religious office I've ever been drawn for.”

“It won't do his soul the slightest bit of harm to pray to me,” Hermes protested.

“I know, but you can see he really believes it will,” I said.

“It will do the damage to my soul to deal with demons, whether I address the words to the demon or you do,” Kebes said. “But I want to go.”

“And you already made a deal with Athene, didn't you?” Hermes asked. “Look, how about if you say demon? I don't mind. If you say ‘Dear demon that I see before me.…'”

“Do I have to say please?” Kebes growled.

Hermes laughed. “Yes. Supplication is very important.”

“How do I know you won't leave me stranded there?” Kebes asked.

“You don't have to give us the message from Athene until the end,” I said.

“But leave it somewhere safe here, rather than take it with you, in that case,” Hermes said. “I'd hate for it to get lost.”