137. The Meeting
The Meeting
Hermes spoke as we walked.
‘I take it that you will not be here long.’
I shook my head.
‘I am passing through to the Halls of Night.’
A frown marred his childlike features.
‘Are you aware of what lies there?’
I nodded carefully.
‘Yes, I have heard the stories.’
When he said nothing,
I tore my eyes away from
a meadow of blood-red flowers
to look at his perplexed expression.
His tone was quiet and measured.
‘What is it, Hekate, that you seek?’
I could not tell him. The war may have been over,
but even the dead sometimes spoke
about the eternal resentments
the Gods bore towards each other.
One wrong word, and the Olympian
in him would be unleashed.
If ads affect your reading experience, click here to remove ads on this page.