idn’t argue. Troy—Troy was a debacle.”
“I know.”
Prometheus nodded. “Of course. The consequences of Troy will continue for ages, I fear. So, Zeus had his plan, and he asked me to clean up when he was finished. I’m collecting their things—the ones that are magic. Hermes’ sandals, Artemis’ arrows, Poseidon’s trident. We wouldn’t want someone to get hold of them and cause trouble.”
He nodded at Sinon’s hand. “I’ll need that sword.”
“Why?”
“It belonged to Apollo. It’s magic.”
He looked at it. It looked like a sword. It felt normal. “Magic, how?”
Prometheus shrugged. “Perhaps it’s capable of slaying an immortal.”
Sinon quashed a moment of dizziness. I could have stopped Zeus. . . . As he’d stopped Prometheus. Zeus had known his very thoughts. He couldn’t have stopped him.
He offered the weapon to Prometheus, grip first. Prometheus put the sword in the bag, with all the other treasures of the gods.
A world without the gods. He swallowed back a lump in his throat.
“Can you take this as well?” He hooked a finger on the chain around his neck.
Prometheus touched it, drew it through his hands, all the way around as he studied it. Sinon had studied it—it had no clasp, no seam.
When Prometheus shook his head, Sinon’s heart sank.
“The magic in this isn’t tied to Apollo. It’s fed by the power of your own body, your own life. It in turn preserves you. It’s a sustaining circle. As long as you live, the links cannot be broken. As long as the links remain unbroken, you will live.”
There would be no consolation at all for him.
“Before he left here, Zeus said I would be free. He was wrong.”
“I think the cruelest thing a mortal can learn is that the Father of the Gods isn’t perfect.”
He rose to take his leave, distracting Sinon from his contemplation of the pool of water. Mosquitoes darted along the surface. They never had before.
He said, “What will happen to me?”
Prometheus stopped, turned. “I don’t know. Your fate is in your own hands now. You won’t die. You can’t be killed. You’re like a god now.”
“Except that I have no power.”
“That’s why Zeus didn’t kill you, too.”
“And what about you? You have the power of a god. Will you set yourself up as the divine king now?”
“I’ve always worked against the gods. That was why Zeus trusted me.” He slung the sack over his shoulder, preparing to depart. “Thank you for the fruit.”
Sinon didn’t want to be left alone. He stood with Prometheus, put his hand out, but didn’t go so far as to touch him in his effort to stop him. “Where—where are you going? What will you do next?” As if he could innocently follow along.
“I need to find someone who can be trusted as a caretaker for a collection of magically potent artifacts. Someone immune to the forces of magic, at least a little. It would help if this person had a good head on his shoulders.”
“Odysseus,” Sinon said without thinking.
Prometheus’s eyes lit. “Ah, of course. He has a son, doesn’t he? A family to carry on as custodians when he’s gone—”
Damn, Sinon thought. Never bring your friends to the attention of the gods. “Why can’t you be the caretaker?”