They regarded each other for a moment, the old man standing calmly, Sinon gripping the sword in a defensive stance. Zeus pushed back the edge of his cloak, revealing his hand. Sinon flinched, as if warding a blow. Then they froze, once again waiting for the next action.
Gesturing to the doorway, Zeus said, “Have they already gone?”
The hairs on the back of Sinon’s neck stiffened. He nodded.
“May I pass through?”
This was Zeus, King of the Gods. He could strike Sinon down with a thunderbolt. The Greek warrior held his sword ready out of sheer habit and principle—it was what one did with a sword. He couldn’t stop the god! But the god had asked.
For a choking moment, Sinon wondered what it would be like to be a child, with this man as his father. He could go to him with his hurts, cry on his shoulder, and he would not be mocked. His fears would be smoothed away.
Sinon saw himself being held by this man and comforted. Zeus the Father.
He looked away and shook his head. It was a trick. Zeus was making him feel this way. Just as Apollo made him feel desire and pleasure.
Zeus said, “The one thing we cannot do is make mortals feel anything. We can seduce, cajole, trick, and bribe, but we cannot force. We can enspell, but spells fade. In the end, your emotions are your own.”
That made the wa
r within his heart that much worse. The loyalty, the hatred, the despair, the love, the memories—they all belonged to him, and he could blame no one else for them. Sinon bit his cheeks to keep from crying out.
Zeus said, “If you’re not held by some oath to try to stop me, please let me pass.”
Sinon was Apollo’s slave. The chain around his neck made him so. But Apollo had never broken him; he’d never laid oaths upon him or demanded fealty. He’d depended on Sinon’s . . . friendship. His honor.
“What’s going to happen, my lord? What will you do to him?”
Zeus studied him, and his gaze was like Athena’s, heavy and searching, until Sinon felt that his heart as well as his body was naked before him. Sinon’s back bowed. He breathed hard, as if he carried a great weight.
“Are you his friend?”
Sinon started to shake his head, then said, “I don’t know.”
“A slave, then. How long has he had you?”
“I don’t know. He took me the morning after Troy fell.”
Lips pursed, Zeus nodded. “More than forty years. If my plan works, you’ll be free to leave here.”
Forty years. He should be an old man. Why didn’t he feel the press of age?
A generation had lived and died without him.
He could not keep grief from cracking his voice. “My lord, where would I go?”
Zeus said with kindness, “Wherever you want to. Let me pass, son.”
He was still, in some deep part of him, a soldier. He’d been given an order, and he trembled with the thought of breaking it.
But what exactly had Apollo said as he left? Stop anyone who tries to come out of the passage. He’d said nothing about keeping someone from entering.
Feeling as weak as a newborn, yet vaguely relieved that he had made a decision that would not require him to try to fight the Father of the Gods, Sinon lowered his sword. He knelt, head bowed. Turning the sword in his hand, he rested its point on the floor.
He remained there, honoring the god.
“Close your eyes, child.”
Sinon shut his eyes tightly. He felt a touch on the back of his head, like that of a father ruffing his child’s hair.