“Why?”
“He would offer up a bargain of sorts.”
“A bargain?” Hades stopped, stared briefly at Aeacus then set off again. “Who is this man? A hero? Who finds fault with Elysium?”
“His name is Ariston,” Aeacus said, keeping stride with Hades once more. “An Ekdromoi of Athena, soldier of Athens and son to Rhodes’ high counselor.”
“Is he as arrogant as you make him out to be?”
Aeacus shook his head, laughing. “No, my lord, he is not. That is why we sent him to you. He is noble, truly, but not arrogant.”
Hades regarded Aeacus, weighing his words. This promised to be an interesting exchange.
“Tavli this eve, my lord? You may try to beat me.” Aeacus smiled at him. “Though I will bring my own astragals, for your dice are weighted, I think.”
Hades snorted, dismissing him. “If your pride is less injured then bring them, Aeacus.”
“More arrivals come, my lord.” Aeacus walked at his side. “Boat after boat of soldiers. Some lost to the storm, others to the Persians, off Athens’ coast.”
“Too many will be lost in this endeavor.” Hades shook his head. This was a young war yet, with many battles to come. His ghosts had learned the truth; the Persians were determined to win Greece for themselves. Their numbers were great. He feared they might win in their conquest, if Olympus did not intervene soon.
Aeacus nodded. “I know there were wars in my time, but none so wasteful as this.”
“War is always wasteful, Aeacus.”
Aeacus conceded as they reached the crossroads, “Perhaps you are right. It is easier to see such folly now.”
“Bring your dice.” Hades clasped arms with Aeacus in farewell and headed home, alone.
His home rose, stark and black. Carved into the side of a huge mountain, its parapets and arched windows were set into the rock face. He had no courtyard as was common in Greece and Olympus. But his chambers were grand, connected with sloping passageways and intricately carved doors. All had been constructed with long balconies, extending the length of every room so that he was able to look out over the Underworld if he pleased. It was the first thing he’d built in his new realm, to honor his new station and his new life.
He paused by the river’s edge and bathed his face and hands before crossing the bridge and entering his home.
He studied the man who awaited him. A young man, Hades saw, powerfully built. He’d fallen in battle. He bore an angry puncture, from stomach to back, and a jagged cut across his chest. Painful wounds that ebbed life slowly and caused suffering.
This man was for Elysium.
Hades walked past the man to sit in his black stone throne. “You have a bargain to offer me?”
The man straightened, drawing in a deep breath.
What would drive a mortal man to seek Hades out? When all others cowered at his name, he would demand an audience.
Hades found a peculiar sense of anticipation settling over him. “You asked for an audience; you have it. Where do you belong?”
The man swallowed, staring into the white-blue flames with a furrowed brow. He spoke a single broken word. “Athens.” Ariston of Rhodes lifted pale gray eyes, revealing his pain… so much pain.
Hades spoke carefully, keeping his tone aloof and distant. “You died with honor and glory. Is that not what every soldier wants?”
“My wife…”
His wife? Hades was surprised. “Lives. You do not.”
“She is in danger.”
Hades heard the pleading in Ariston’s voice, and the torment. But he would remain firm in his resolve. “Earthly danger,” Hades said. “She is no longer your concern.”
“The danger she faces is not earthly, far from it…” Ariston’s voice was hoarse, edged with a desperation Hades could feel. Aris