The Goddess and the Minotaur

Water washed across the bow of the Ketch Me If You Can at the bottom of a dark trough. A light sprinkling of rain pattered on the canvas dodger, and a handful of hailstones danced across the deck. The sturdy sailboat rebounded and ascended to the next crest almost faster than she had descended. At the top, Iona Hull cast resolute eyes at the storm clouds that had sprung up to the northwest.

Now this, as though I haven't already spent hours trying to get out of the way of that line of squalls coming from the east.

She allowed herself a glance toward the sunlit seas to the south.

South it is, then.

Raising her binoculars, she scanned as much of the southern horizon as she could before the Ketch Me If You Can raced down the next slope.

There's an island. I don't know what island it is, but it has to be safer on the leeward side.

The sails slackened for a split second, and then they snapped full again as Iona steered a few degrees port.

No, Mom, this isn't too much boat for one petite girl. And I'm not a girl. I'm a strong, resourceful woman who is confident enough to sail solo.

At the bottom of the next trough, the bow again plunged deeper than Iona liked. Her eyes locked onto her First Officer, a larger-than-standard red Irish Terrier named Skullen Bones. His bright orange life vest contrasted with the cream-colored forward deck. He darted and slid from one side to the other, barking at the wind and spray.

"Bones," she shouted, "get back here. You have to go below."

The dog continued scrambling and barking. Iona touched the autopilot controls and stepped out of the cockpit to go get him. As she reached for the starboard lifeline, a gust heeled the boat to a sharp angle. Her feet shot out from under her, and her face thumped the edge of the cabin roof.

"Ow!" Iona willed herself back into the current moment.

Red droplets appeared on the deck as she pulled herself up to look for her dog. She blinked several times to focus. She ignored the red spots and turned her gaze forward. For a moment, the view ahead was one of pure sky, as the craft topped the next roller. She couldn't see Bones anywhere. Not on the deck, and not in the swirling water racing past the port gunwale.

Iona's heart leaped into her throat. "Oh God, no! No, no, no. Bones, where are you?"

Descending, the sailboat recovered to a less dramatic angle. She twisted to look as far behind as possible. The mountain of water she had just come over blocked her view.

She scanned the water ahead. Wait, what am I doing? He can't be in front of me. I've got to go back. "I'm coming, Bones!"

As she pivoted toward the cockpit, a new constellation of red drops on the cabin roof caught her attention. "Oh, great. I'm bleeding." She sniffed to relieve the tickle in her nose and tasted blood. Don't say anything, Mom. Getting a bloody nose once in a while is just part of sailing. I'll deal with this later.

Something furry skidded into her calves, and a familiar voice barked right behind her.

"Bones? Oh, thank God!" Iona dropped to her knees, almost falling onto the terrier. She grabbed one of his life vest's handles and dragged him into the cockpit. "You had me so worried. You're going below until we get away from the front edge of that storm."

Iona confirmed the autopilot's settings. "Just hold this course for two minutes so I can grab some tissues, then I'll take over," she said as though the device listened to her.

After a glance toward the eastern end of the distant island, she climbed down into the cabin, where she clapped her hands for Bones to leap into her arms. She tossed him onto her bunk, then frowned.

"Get off. You're wet."

She reached for one of the oversized cabinets her dad had built for her. A lurch threw her backward into her navigation desk. She glared up the companionway. "I said, keep it steady. I'll be right there."

"There are no tissues in here. Am I already out?" She opened the head door and grabbed several squares of toilet paper. Stuffing a small wad into each nostril, she remarked to her reflection, "I look like a mad woman. I should take a picture for the blog. And for Mom." She snapped a mirrored selfie and climbed back up to the cockpit.

"Thanks, you can take a break now." She grasped the helm and deactivated the autopilot. She zoomed in on the map and out again. Topping the next crest, she viewed the island through her binoculars. She panned around the map displayed on her chartplotter's screen, zooming in and out. "What do you mean there's no island? I'm looking at it."

* * *

After running for a couple more hours ahead of the menacing storm front, the ketch emerged into bright, mid-afternoon sunlight. The lovingly stitched turquoise lettering, Ketch Me If You Can, glowed through the bright white mainsail. Iona breathed a sigh of relief.

"The storm's still following us, but we're enough ahead that you can come back up," she told Bones. "Wait, and I'll lift you." She hoisted him with a gaff kept by the companionway for the purpose. He immediately took his position in front of her on the nonskid mat she had fastened to the cabin roof.

She gave a glance over her shoulder. Lightning illuminated several of the darker clouds from within as though to emphasize the storm's ferocity. She raised her binoculars for another look southward. "You see that island, right, Bones? Every chart and instrument I have says it's not there."

Bones just looked at her and cocked his head.

* * *

The distance between swells lengthened, and the depth of the troughs decreased. The rhythm of waves slapping a stone-strewn sandy shore joined in with the snap of her small flag, the periodic flutter of the sheets, and the jingle of mast and line hardware. Iona sipped her water and took another bite of the energy bar she had brought up from below after emerging into the sunlight and calmer waters. Bones lay nearby, gnawing a rawhide. She studied the shoreline, the contours of the island, and the readings on her instruments. Within an hour they reached the southernmost extreme of the eastern end.

"I still can't believe this isn't on any charts. Have I discovered another Pitcairn?" she asked the terrier, who barely glanced her direction. "There. That looks like an opening. Is it ... is it—? It is! Bones, we've found a cove."

Iona lowered the jib and mainsail. She maneuvered into the small bay under power, keeping a close eye on the transducer.

"I'm not sure where the shelf is that leads up to that beach, but it's plenty deep right here. What do you say we circle the bay once and then drop anchor? Go forward and watch for hazards."

She wasn't certain he understood the entire command, but it felt better to have a partner for locating a good anchorage. As they circled, she studied both the clear, placid water and the perimeter of the bay. Shoals of silvery fish darted to and fro. The shifting breeze rustled palm fronds. Somewhere in the woods beyond the beach, tropical birds called out to each other. Iona inhaled the mingled aromas of plumeria and jasmine.

Finally, casting a cautious eye toward the storm, she selected a spot a hundred yards from the natural high stone jetty that wrapped around the north side of the bay. She activated the windlass to lower the anchor. Bones stood, wagging his tail.

"No, we're not going ashore yet. You stay here while I put on the sail covers."

By the time she finished zipping the sail covers, the wind had stretched out all the palm fronds, pointing them to the south. The Ketch Me If You Can swung around to point her bow into the wind. Black clouds obscured the sunset, bringing an early dusk.

Iona stood on the deck and took a deep breath. Waves rocked the sailboat like a mother her baby's crib. "We aren't getting much swell. It may be a good night for sleeping—if the wind doesn't get too-too loud."

She snapped several pictures of the bay, the encroaching storm, and of Bones on the bow. A couple of coconuts plopped on the beach. Then she descended the companionway and called him in after her.

"We did well today. We deserve to get one of Mom's chicken pot pies out of the freezer and share an apple."

* * *

The morning sun shined through the porthole above the kitchen sink as Iona grimaced at the reflection in the head-door mirror. Bones lay on his end of the bunk, watching every movement as she prepared to go topside. She pulled her hair back into a loose ponytail, flashed her perky cheerleader smile, and snapped a selfie to upload later.

"Mom's going to love the black eye and the yellow and purple blotch on my nose and cheek, don't you think? Ha, no, she's going to have a cow. Then Dad will tell her something like, it's just a bruise, you raised a self-reliant woman, and you should be proud of that. And she'll worry herself sick anyway, because she does that when she's being … difficult. Remember, we never say crazy. You're not urgent yet, are you, Bones?"

The Ketch Me If You Can swayed gently on low swells that found their way past the black stone outcroppings that had protected her through the night. The dog lay in his place, attentive to the movements that signaled the opening of the hatch.

Iona reviewed her last journal entry on the tablet. Made it to the island we saw just ahead of the storm. Was glad to find a little harbor where I think we'll be protected from the brunt of it. But I'm exhausted. The wind has begun howling. Chicken pot pie for dinner tonight.

She continued journaling where she had left off. It looks like a beautiful day to explore an uncharted island. Maybe I'll get listed in history books alongside Magellan and Cook. I'll dub this Bones' Bay, just in case. Hopefully, I won't encounter cannibals or headhunters. But I didn't notice any signs that it's inhabited before the storm blew in last night. Or I might discover the last lost flock of dodos—wouldn't that be amazing!

Iona pulled on her hiking boots and clipped a small first aid kit on her belt. There might be snakes. She dug her long Guatemalan machete out of her closet and slung it behind her back. Plus, maybe I can bring back some coconuts. When she opened the hatch and nodded to him, Bones leaped off the bunk. He bounded up the steep steps to the cockpit and the deck. Iona followed, surveyed the sailboat with a practiced eye to be certain all was secure, and hauled the dinghy close to the stern. Two dolphins surfaced forty yards away, then thirty.

Fifteen minutes later, she pulled the dinghy above the high water mark onto the bright white sugar sand.

"Find a tree or two to claim if you want, but stay close. Bones. You heard me, right? Stay close."

She took a picture of the sailboat with the morning sun glinting on a galaxy of stainless steel cleats, bow rails, and electric horns. Then she gathered several freshly fallen coconuts and tossed them into the dinghy.

To the north, beyond the low ridge that extended out into the water to enclose Bones' Bay, scores of seagulls hovered and wheeled, screeching and squabbling.

"There must be something big over there, like a beached whale. That's why none of them are over here," she told Bones. "Let's go see."

Together, they hiked up the rocky hillside. Iona paused to catch her breath before they reached the top. She snapped one more picture of the Ketch Me If You Can at rest in the idyllic bay. Then she pointed toward the mountainside that rose to her left.

"Look at those giant stone slabs. They form a natural staircase right up into the woods. We'll have to explore that next, after we see what all the seagulls are so riled up about."

Atop the ridge, they looked down on another lagoon. The water almost glowed, an aquamarine gem set in a ring of rough volcanic stone. The dark wall surrounded the lagoon, but water gurgled in and out through a low archway that led to the open ocean. A dozen seagulls bobbed on the surface while most of the flock circled overhead. A hundred stood along the shoreline, beaks to the wind, occasionally crying out to answer the screeches of those above.

Bones emitted a low growl. He stood stiff-legged, with raised hackles.

"Stay," she told him, watching for a moment to be sure he would comply before scanning for whatever had caught his attention.

"Stay," she repeated. "What is that, a walrus? It looks like—maybe. Does it have its back to us? And those must be its tusks, but they come out at a weird angle. I think it's a walrus. Why would a walrus be this far south? Maybe the herd rejected it because those tusks grew wrong. It's caught something big, though."

As if on cue, a broad, shimmering tail slapped the shallow water that flowed over a submerged shelf in front of the walrus.

"A fish! He's got a fish that's too big for him to eat. Let's see if we can get closer without disturbing it. Bones, you stay quiet. Quiet."

She picked her way ten yards down the slope. The walrus shifted. On the watery shelf in front of it lay a vaguely human form. Bones let out a full-throated bay.

"No, stay!" Iona reached for the dog's collar, but he lurched several feet ahead, where he continued barking. She jumped after him and just managed to slip two fingers under his collar. He lunged again, pulling her off balance. She stumbled and slammed to the ground with a weak cry.

Iona lay still among prickly weeds, her head downhill from her feet, the wind knocked out of her. Her head swam. Her lower lip quivered. Tears came unbidden. After what seemed an eternity, she gulped in a breath. Rolling cautiously to her side, she adjusted her tenuous grip on the collar. She pulled his face close to hers.

"Bones," she whimpered, "you hurt me. You have to listen. I think I'm really hurt."

She swung her feet around and sat cross-legged. "Look at this. I'm all scuffed up." She showed the dog where sharp stones had abraded her forearm.

"No, don't lick. I know you love me. And this—what's this?" She lifted her shirt enough to see the large red welt forming on her lower rib cage. She raised her left arm gingerly. "I need a mirror to see my side better. I don't think any ribs are broken, but boy is that going to be sore. It's already sore."

She closed her eyes and sat on the hillside, taking slow, deep breaths. The sea breeze teased a wisp of hair against her cheek. Gradually, the seagulls' undiminished raucous cries reentered her consciousness.

"Bones, I need to bandage my arm. But first …" She extracted his leash from her day pack. "I probably should have put this on you before, but it'd been long enough since you had a good run I hated to. Did you scare away the walrus? I guess a walrus wouldn't scare that easily, but it's probably gone, and we missed the photo of a lifetime, but I don't even care at this point. I just want to get back to the boat."

Iona taped a large gauze pad to her forearm and secured her kit.

"Stand still. I'm using you to get up."

Blood trickled down her shin. She frowned at it, then her gaze returned to the lagoon.

"The walrus is still there. It's bigger—no, taller. What the—? A man?"

At that moment, the man-like figure rose from a crouched position to stand in knee-deep water. Silver-tipped horns, not tusks, almost as long as Iona's machete, curved upward from the temples of his elaborate mask. He scanned the shoreline. Then he lifted the second figure from the water, cradling it in his arms.

Iona gasped and a chill ran down her spine. "It's a man—it's a witch doctor wearing some kind of headdress so he looks like a white bull. I shouldn't be here—I can't be here. He's done something to—to that woman. We have to leave, Bones!"

She retreated several paces uphill, pulling a reluctant Bones behind her. Nearing the ridge, she raised her binoculars for another look at the witch doctor and his victim. She's beautiful. Did he sacrifice her? Wait, where are her legs? She's wearing some kind of—. "Bones, this can't be. That's a mermaid. A real …"

Her eyes widened. "That's no headdress," she whispered.

The bull-headed man sloshed into shallower water with his burden. The mermaid's head lolled. Bones again bayed. Iona paled and tugged on his leash to quiet him. The bull-man's attention snapped to the hillside where the two stood in full view.

"You!" he bellowed. He dropped the mermaid into ankle-deep water, where she lay still with wavelets lapping at her torso and tail. "You," the beast roared again. He charged along the shore, his black hooves punching divots and spraying wet sand behind him. His bronzed Herculean arms pumped as furiously as his legs. With each bob of his head, sunlight glinted off the tips of his horns, like tiny lightning strikes. Seagulls scattered before him, objecting loudly. His black eyes remained fixed on the two intruders.

Iona retreated up the hill. She backpedaled over stones and hummocks, pulling Bones. Then she tripped and fell on her rear.

The earth beneath her trembled until the giant beast came within twenty feet and stopped. Though he stood lower on the slope, the two were at eye level. His wide nostrils flared. His bovine eyes glowered. His polished horn tips gleamed.

He huffed at her, "In this guise, I don't know who you are, but I know what you are. Why are you here? What are you doing on my island?"

Iona stammered, "I … I … I was—was looking for a—"

"Tell me," the immense beast thundered, "which goddess are you?"

"Goddess?" Iona pulled Bones close and put a hand over his muzzle to silence his growling.

The monster took two strides forward and repeated his question. "Which goddess are you?"

Iona scooted backward enough to stand and found herself again at eye level with the towering bull-headed man. She gripped her left elbow and pulled it tight against her ribs, trying not to think about how they throbbed. "I'm not a goddess," she panted.

The beast contemplated her for a moment. He clenched and unclenched his fists as he ruminated over the new information.

"Look, I'm bleeding. I'm hurt. Do deities bleed?"

He emitted a discontented rumble from deep in his chest. His eyes reddened. He shifted his stance and gazed at the mermaid, who still lay where he had dropped her. She groped weakly at the wet sand, trying to turn back to the water.

"Not a goddess," he growled, returning his gaze to Iona. "Then you're a sea witch. Don't feign innocence, witch! I saw your boat. You rode the gale here that killed—that killed—" His voice broke, and his head sagged. He barely breathed the next words. "My friend. Your storm overpowered her and beat her against the rocks."

Iona's eyes welled as empathy displaced her terror. "No, look—she's moving, she's not dead!"

"She's dying, and I can do nothing to help her." Large tears tracked down his bovine face.

"I have a first aid kit. Maybe I can do something. I'm not a witch, but—"

The creature cast a dejected glance at the blonde in front of him. "I don't know what you mean, first aid kit. But she is beyond helping."

The mermaid continued to struggle, flapping her shimmering tail a few times to little effect. When Iona returned her attention to the man-bull, she shuddered at the growing rage in his eyes. His fists clenched and his body trembled. Powerful neck muscles tensed and rippled beneath his hide. His voice became fraught with emotion.

"You killed my friend. You die."

Iona unclipped Bones' leash and gave him a shove. "Run, Bones. Go to the dinghy."

She took two steps back, cautiously drawing her machete from its sheath. Bones bristled at her side, growling.

"Don't." Her voice quavered as her eyes met the beast's. "Don't do this."

The beast looked from her weapon to her face and back. His expression contorted into one of bovine incredulity. His hands opened, and spittle flew as he threw his head back with a husky bellow. He waved an index finger at her drunkenly, continuing his freakish, mooing laughter.

"You? That?" He staggered back a step and caught himself, then doubled over.

"What? Are you laughing at me?" Iona seized the moment to retreat another step toward the ridge.

"You! Another mortal that thinks it can oppose a demigod and live—" He fell to his knees and slapped the earth with his palm. "It's been so long since I've seen a mortal I forgot how stupid—" He collapsed to his elbows and snorted out paroxysms of laughter.

Iona saw her only opportunity. With her bruised ribs, she couldn't possibly outrun the monster, but perhaps, if she injured him … Gripping her machete's small handle in desperation, she catapulted across the intervening space. She grabbed one horn's silver tip for leverage and raised the machete to the sky. Then, with a scream, she crashed the blade down on his neck with all the force she could muster. The lightweight machete bounced off ineffectually.

The crumpled beast stopped laughing. He raised up to a kneeling position. His chest puffed out, and he looked at her with renewed rage in his eyes. He stretched out a callused hand to grab her.

She staggered away from his grasp. Then, a flash of red fur darted past her. Bones sunk his teeth into the bull's forearm.

The man-bull punched the snarling dog. Bones yelped, and the beast threw him thirty feet across the slope. Bones rolled to a stop among the weeds. Scrambling to his feet, he charged back in, barking ferociously.

Iona stumbled to intercept her dog. "No, Bones, leave it!" She dropped the tip of her machete. More tears flowed as she pled, "Don't hurt my dog. Please, don't hurt him. Just let me take him, and we'll leave. You can have your island all to yourself."

"He bit me," said the creature, rubbing the puncture wounds on his arm. He cocked his head and reached up to touch the hairline trickle of blood that ran down his neck.

"I'm sorry, he never bites."

"And you cut me," he added incredulously. "How did you cut me with that? That's not a proper sword."

She raised her machete just enough to consider the black finish and the honed edge. "My father taught me how to keep it razor-sharp."

"He must be a great warrior."

Iona drew in her lower lip. She took a deep breath before speaking. "Listen, Mr. Bull, I'm sorry about—"

"Mr. Bull?"

"Well, I don't know your name. You—you must have one. Mine is Iona."

The creature fell silent for several moments. The salty sea breeze rustled the leaves of intermingled jacaranda and poinciana trees in the grove up the hill. Waves splashed and gurgled through the lagoon's low arch. Seagulls continued echoing each other's calls.

"I once knew a girl named Iona."

A new voice intruded on the brief communion, smooth as velvet yet substantial as steel, gentle as a lover yet pure and unassailable as a tower.

"His name is Asterion."

Both the human and the creature jumped, looking for the speaker.

She emerged from the grove of flowering trees, a statuesque young woman about Iona's age. She carried a bow and wore a short, gleaming white tunic gathered with a braided gold belt. A delicately wrought golden circlet failed to tame her auburn hair. Mystical hazel eyes gazed at Iona out of a flawless white alabaster face.

Iona held her breath. Asterion wheezed.

"Artemis … Why have you come?"

The woman continued to walk toward them. As she approached, the grass greened in her wake. Where she placed her shapely, sandaled feet, daylilies sprouted and blossomed. A doe and her fawn ventured out behind her, followed by a small black bear.

Iona's gaze snapped toward Bones. He stood several feet away, ears and tail relaxed. Iona slowed her breathing and let her shoulders drop.

Asterion stood and faced the woman, clapping the dirt from his hands. Concern laced his tones. "Have you come to warn me? Has my father learned that I still live—and where I am?"

"No, no. I shield you from Poseidon. He knows nothing." Artemis smiled coyly and tilted her head in Iona's direction. "I am here because of her."

Again, the creature and the human jerked, looking at each other and then at the newcomer. Their objections tumbled out together.

"The witch? The storm bringer? The—"

"Me? Why me? Hey—I told you I'm not a witch."

The fawn advanced to nuzzle Artemis' hand. She caressed its face. "Asterion, becalm yourself. She couldn't have conjured the storm. She is a mere mortal. Is that not plain to you?"

The man-bull huffed. "She is a witch."

"Mere mortal."

"But she—" Asterion's eyes narrowed. His lips twisted into a partial sneer, and he flexed his fingers. His gaze flew between the trembling girl and the unmoving goddess. "She … she … she … You. You brought the storm."

"I brought the storm."

"But why? It killed my friend!"

Artemis shrugged one shoulder. "She was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Unfortunate." The goddess gestured toward Iona. "But this one, Asterion, has apples."

The two again overspoke each other.

"She has apples?"

"How did you know I have apples?"

Artemis cocked her head and clicked her tongue. "You're asking a goddess how I knew something? Mortals …" She sighed. "Take the apple from your pouch and show him."

Saliva dripped from the corners of the creature's mouth, and yearning suffused his tone. "I haven't seen an apple in a thousand years. Iona brought me apples."

"I didn't—"

A glance from Artemis silenced Iona.

His voice grew husky. "But—my friend has to die for me to again taste an apple? The price is too high."

"The mermaid will live. I have summoned her people. They will care for her and restore her. But she is too weak to return to the sea. You must carry her out into deeper water for them to retrieve her. Beyond that portal."

Asterion hesitated only for a heartbeat before whirling and bounding down the hill. "I'm coming," he bellowed. "I'm coming!" He kicked up rocks, clumps of grass, sand, and seaweed.

Iona lowered the hand with the apple and watched him. He splashed to his knees and scooped up the mermaid. Then he plunged through the lagoon's low breakers. When Iona looked up, Bones was sniffing noses with the bear. She turned to the bear's mistress and rubbed down the goose flesh on her arms.

"Artemis. You said goddess. You're that Artemis? Goddess of the hunt …"

Artemis inclined her head once and smiled. "And of nature, and of animals. And I watch over young women such as yourself."

"But you chased me all the way here with a storm—just so I could give him an apple? That's insane."

"You have plenty for yourself, do you not?"

"I can give him the whole bag," Iona said. "But that's not the point."

"He would love you and remember you forever. And one day, a thousand years hence, he would remind me, Iona brought me apples."

"But, why the storm? A whole line of them, in fact. I don't understand. Why go to the trouble of stirring those up and—"

"Would you have come had I shown up at your door and told you I wanted you to bring an apple to a half-man, half-bull?"

Iona responded with a doubtful chuckle. "No, probably not. But—all that just for an apple? And this, and this?" She pointed at the bandage on her arm and the bruises on her face.

Artemis answered in wistful tones. "He was fated long ago to live a life of isolation. I love him. So I alleviate his suffering whenever I can, in the little ways that I'm able to without drawing attention to him."

"Poseidon's attention? You said Poseidon is his father? The god of the sea …" Iona shook her head and opened her mouth several times before she could form the next sentence. "Wait, if you're the goddess Artemis, and if Poseidon the sea god is really Asterion's father, then are you saying he's not just a man-bull? He's The Minotaur from Greek mythology?"

Artemis waggled her head. "What you call mythology I call history."

"Wow." Iona rubbed her temples. "But all the legends—I mean the histories—say a white bull—"

Regarding Iona from beneath sculpted brows, Artemis narrowed her eyes to slits. "Don't the histories also say Poseidon is a god of many guises?"

"Okay, so he's Poseidon's … But didn't the Greek hero Theseus kill the Minotaur on Crete?"

"I blinded Theseus. He killed a bull, and not a very big one at that. Then I deceived the Olympians. I deceived them all. If I had not, Aphrodite would have toyed with Asterion's affections, causing him even greater anguish than he was fated to suffer. She is more capricious even than Poseidon."

Iona sighed and scanned the turquoise lagoon. The Minotaur surged toward the low arch with powerful breast strokes. The mermaid clung to one horn, her tail trailing.

"You said isolation. He was doomed to isolation. But he has a friend right there."

Artemis stroked the fawn. "You consider your dog a friend, do you not? But it is not your equal. The sea creature is not a true match for Asterion. He has no peers, no mate. He is alone."

"That's so sad." Iona lapsed into thought. "I can't write about this, can I? Someone would try to capture him and put him on display."

"Write all you want. Anyone who reads it will consider it myth. No one can find this island unless I let them."

Both the goddess and the woman fell silent until the Minotaur plunged beneath the surface to fight the incoming current and take his charge to open water.

Artemis tilted her head and studied Iona down the length of her nose. "Will you visit him again?"

"Why would I do that? He threatened to—I could have died just now!"

"Perhaps, had I not been the one to guide you here. He is a fearsome creature, easily angered. But I think if he had a human friend he would be less angry. He needs a friend, Iona."

Iona gazed at the churning water under the low arch. "He has the mermaid for a friend—even if you say she isn't a perfect match."

"She can only think—and converse—on the level of a small child, if that. She is more fish than human. However, he is more human than bull. Although his emotions are often bullish, his mind is more mannish. When you get to know him, and when he is not in turmoil like he is today, he can discuss the ideas of Plato and Aristotle, as well as those of the intellectual giants Pythagoras and Archimedes. He needs a human friend."

A chill ran down Iona's spine. "You won't let me leave unless I agree to be his friend, will you?"

"I will. Do not mistake me for any of the other Olympians. I brought you here, but I will not hound you."

Iona searched the goddess' face, trying to discern whether she was being sincere. "Okay, I'll be his friend, if I can leave and come back."

"And you will bring him apples?"

"Gladly, if he wants me to."

"Then I will allow you to come and go as you please."

"Without a storm?"

"No storm." Artemis smiled. "Now, come to the temple Asterion built for me on the mountain. I will heal your wounds while we await his return."

* End *

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