And the Earth grew angry also and she said she would have none of his people and she shook with her anger and she destroyed the villages that the Sky God had spared. All over the world the villages of the Earth’s people and the Sky’s people were destroyed and the crops burnt in the fields and the animals lost and the people were afraid and prayed for rescue, but Earth and the Sky were too angry to hear them.

All the people in the world might have died then, but Hephestia heard their cries. She was the oldest child of the Earth and the Sky and closest to them in power. She went to each and spoke to them and said, “Why should the Earth not have what children she pleases? Look at the children you have had.” And the Sky remembered his children who were streams and rivers and saw that they were choked with refuse of the burning caused by his thunderbolts.

Hephestia went to Earth and said, “Why should you not have the people of the Sky? Look what people you have for your own.” And Earth looked and she saw her people afraid, without homes or food, their houses destroyed and all their livelihoods gone. The Sky’s people were frightened, too, and they begged her to put away her anger and forgive them if they had offended her. And Earth did put away her anger, and the Sky did put away his anger as well.

Hephestia asked them, “Why should they suffer because you are angry with each other? Give me your thunderbolts, Father, and give up to me your power to shake the ground, Mother, so that they will not suffer again from your anger with each other.”

Earth gave Hephestia her power to shake the ground, and the Sky promised to give her his thunderbolts. He promised also not to harm Eugenides, but he said the Earth must not give him any more presents and never give immortality to any children but his children. Earth promised, and she and the Sky were at peace.

The people of the Sky and the Earth rebuilt their homes and recovered their animals and replanted their fields, but from then on they were careful to build two altars in every village to thank the Sky for their creation and the Earth for her gifts, that they would always be the people of them both. And in times of great need they pray not only to the Earth and the Sky but to Hephestia as well that she will intercede on their behalf with her parents.

“You sound very different when you are telling a story,” said Sophos.

“That,” I said acidly, “is the way my mother told it to me.”

“I liked it.”

“Well, it is the only one you will hear tonight,” said the magus. “Eugenides and the Sky God will have to wait for tomorrow.” To me he said, “Your mother seems to have taken the story and made it her own.”

“Of course,” jeered Ambiades. “She was a thief.”

That night I slept lightly for the first time since being in prison. I woke as the moon, half full, shone on the hillside. I rolled over to look at what stars I could see and noticed Ambiades, sitting up in his blankets.

“What are you doing awake?” I asked him.

“Keeping an eye on you.”

I looked at the other three sleeping bodies. “You take turns?” Ambiades nodded.

“Since when?”

“Since the last inn.”

“Really? And I’ve been too tired to appreciate it until now.” I shook my head with regret and went back to sleep.

CHAPTER SIX

IN THE MORNING WE ATE the last of the food and drank the last of the water that the others had carried in leather sacks over the mountain. The bread was stale and rock hard, and I wasn’t the only one who was hungry when we were through. The magus saw me looking in distaste at the lump of bread in my hand, and he laughed. He was in a cheery mood and seemed willing to set aside our differences since he’d put me thoroughly in my place.

“I know,” he said. “Don’t bother to complain. I’ll get you fresh bread for lunch, I promise.”

“How long until lunch?”

He turned to look at the trail ahead of us. It dropped steeply and gave us a view of the valley ahead of us. It was a more limited view than the one we had had higher up the mountain. The river had disappeared. So had the sea. “Can you see that break in the olives?” the magus asked. I looked where he pointed and saw the rooftops of a few houses, only three or four miles away. “We’ll get our lunch from there.”

“Then I will leave the rest of my breakfast for the birds.” I pitched the bread over the rocks around our campsite. Everyone but Pol did the same. As a soldier he had probably eaten worse things.

Soon we were once again in the open. The shallow groove carved by the stream ended at the top of a cliff that was the precipitous edge of the mountain. Sixty feet below whispered waves of olives. Between the cliff and the trees, like the foam left by breaking waves, were jumbled rocks of all sizes. To my left and to my right, the cliff, the trees, and the swirling rocks continued as far as I could see. Ahead, the olives rolled out for miles, rising a little but mostly falling away toward the hidden river, their silver surface broken by islands of shiny green, which were the dry oaks, and by lightning catchers that were lone cypress trees standing like swords on their hilts. The rooftops of the town that the magus had pointed out earlier were the only man-made things to break the surface of the trees.

“It’s like a sea,” Sophos said, echoing my thoughts.

“It is a sea,” said the magus quietly. “It’s called the Sea of Olives. It was planted to honor one of the old gods so long ago that no one knows which one. The trees stretch from the coast all the way to the edge of the dystopia.”

Ambiades was interested in more practical knowledge. “How do we get down?”

I looked around for the goat path that I knew must be around, and I whistled when I found it. “Glad we had a good night’s rest,” I said. “Everybody did get plenty of sleep, didn’t they?” Nobody mentioned standing a three-hour watch.

“Well, dithering won’t help,” I said.

The path began in a crevasse left behind when a large rock had broken loose from the bluff and dropped to the ground below. There was a shelf about eight feet below the top of the cliff. I flexed my knees and jumped before the magus could stop me. Pol jumped after me and landed so close that he nearly knocked both of us down the slope. I steadied him and called up to Sophos.

“Come on, you’re next. Lie down and slide your legs over the lip.” Pol and I grabbed him by the legs and lowered him. Once he was down with us, the hollow was filled with bodies. I started the next phase of the descent and left Pol to help the magus and Ambiades.

There was no loose rubble to kick down, or I wouldn’t have gone first, but I did worry that one of the others was going to slide down on my head. I went as fast as I safely could.

The path switched back and forth across the cliff, turning every ten feet or so and dropping five feet with each turn. It was only about six inches wide, less in spots, and was more a groove carved into the stone cliff than anything else. There were two bits so steep that I sat down and slithered, grabbing a passing plant to slow down. As I went down, I muttered under my breath, mimicking the magus’s voice. “‘This trail isn’t used much,’ he says. ‘There are better ones.’ I’ll bet there are,” I said, and swore out loud as my foot slipped. I recovered my balance easily but banged my wrist against an outcropping and swore again.