"His body, his mind, and his soul."

Ektor moans. "I suppose you also haven't heard that I'd made Teo my heir. I signed the doc.u.ment this very day."

"I did not know that either, Your Grace."

"Now Teo's almost certainly lost-he couldn't manage the oars, he can't swim-and my one remaining son is not only lame, he's mad! G.o.ds, what a disaster!"

"There's still a chance that Teo's all right. The skiff may have drifted into the reeds. And if not, the people along the bank would surely have noticed a little boy alone in a boat. Someone would have gone out and brought him in to safety. I a.s.sume you have men out searching the river and the sh.o.r.e."

"Of course I have. And I pray to the G.o.ds that you are right. But too much time pa.s.sed before it was noticed that the skiff was missing. And even after I was informed, it took a while to organize the search. They won't find him, Suliman. Not likely anyway."

The king rises abruptly. "I have to go. Send for me if he wakes, night or day."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Though I don't suppose it really matters anymore how the accident happened. Teo is gone and Alexos is all I have left. I'm too old to make any more sons. So heal him if you can. He might still be a decent king with a ruined body-but not with a ruined mind. Take care of him, old friend."

"I will, Ektor. I promise."

12.

WITH THE KING GONE, the room falls unnaturally still. There is only the sound of Suliman moving softly about. Then he is at the bedside again. With one hand he turns the prince's face and, with his thumb on the chin, opens his mouth. Alexos feels the drops as they fall onto his tongue-one, two, three. He recognizes the flavor of honey and aniseed, then the bitter aftertaste.

The physician stays for a while, waiting for the sleeping drops to take effect. Soon Alexos feels his muscles start to release. His breaths come more slowly now. He is conscious of the gentle rhythm of his own beating heart. Through the peaceful mist that fills his consciousness, he hears a soft puff of air as Suliman blows out the lamp. He hears gentle footfalls as the physician crosses the room, the rustle of robes and the creak of wood as he sits down. Soon they are both asleep.

Darkness and silence, like the end of the world. It goes on and on and on.

And then Alexos feels the touch of a hand. It lands on his shoulder, soft as falling silk. And there it seems to melt, to become insubstantial, until he almost forgets the hand is there; he can only feel the consoling warmth of it.

Then the fog opens and brings him a dream.

He is hovering in the air above the river, looking down. The day is calm. The skiff, with its flat bottom, hardly rocks at all as it drifts with the current. Teo sits frozen on the bench, gripping the edge of the plank with his little hands. On the bank, people stare as he floats by, but they do nothing. Nor does Teo call for help. He is paralyzed with fright.

Gradually the daylight begins to fade. A breeze rises, cool against his sunburned face. Somehow, in the dream, Alexos knows that Teo is thirsty. There's fresh water all around you, he whispers. But Teo can't hear him.

Or maybe he does. Stiff and sore from sitting so long without moving, he slides down into the bottom of the boat. Then, bit by bit, he starts shifting to the side, waiting after each little scoot to see if the boat will tip, and when it doesn't, moving a little more. At last he's close enough to reach.

Gripping the gunwale with one hand, he dips the other into the river, holding his fingers together to form a cup. Most of the water spills along the way, but a few drops fall onto his tongue. Encouraged, he does this again and again until his thirst is quenched. Then he scoots back to the middle of the boat, curls up on the floor, and falls asleep.

When Teo wakes, it is night. Low clouds cover the moon and stars, but he can see well enough to know he's not on the river anymore. Dark water stretches away on every side. For the first time he whimpers, just a little. Then he lies back down and sleeps again.

Alexos watches from above, his heart aching. This is even worse than walking into the fire, because he wants so desperately to save Teo but he doesn't have the power to do it. I am going to watch him die, he thinks.

When Teo wakes the second time, he is allover wet. Water has puddled in the bottom of the boat. The waves rock him back and forth, back and forth, slapping the sides of the skiff. He scoops up some of the water and drinks; but it tastes of salt, old wood, and fish. He tries to go back to sleep, but he can't. So he just lies there, curled up in a ball, afraid.

The hours pa.s.s; a storm builds. Rain comes down in big, heavy drops: wet, bruising blows against Teo's face and arms. There's a lot more water in the boat now; it sloshes around as the skiff pitches in the churning sea.

"Oh," Teo cries, "help me! Please help me!" But his small voice is swallowed by the wind.

Exhaustion pulls him under and he sleeps once more.

Dear G.o.ddess, O great and wise Athene, Alexos prays in his dream, protect my innocent brother. For I have put him in harm's way and now I cannot help him. Punish me however you want, but please don't let him die!

It's still dark when Teo wakes for the third time. The sea is calm now, the rain has stopped, and straight ahead a dark ma.s.s is slowly emerging from a thick bank of fog. It's an island, rather small, with a mountain in the middle. All along the coastline, jagged boulders rise out of the water, waves crashing hard against them. And the skiff, which now seems to have a mind of its own, is heading straight for that perilous sh.o.r.e.

Helpless to stop it, Teo abandons himself to his fate, waiting pa.s.sively as the boat draws closer and closer to the rocks. Then he sees it: a break in the ring of boulders, an open channel that leads directly to a broad, white beach. Alexos watches, his heart aching with joy, as the boat enters this safe harbor, sc.r.a.pes against sand, and comes to a lurching stop.

But Teo is still afraid. There's water all around him and it's too dark to see how deep it is. So he stays where he is, wet and shivering, gazing longingly at the beach ahead.

Now slowly the skiff begins to rise, as if the sand itself was lifting it. Teo gasps as water streams away on either side of the boat and forms a little pond far behind him. The boat is on dry land.

Come, the air sings to him. Come onto the island. You will be safe here.

Teo swings his legs over the gunwale and drops onto the sand. The water keeps its distance. Encouraged, he takes a deep, shuddering breath and runs as fast as he can till he reaches the soft, dry sand of the beach. Then he runs farther still, through the brittle, honey-gold gra.s.s that grows at the edge of the sh.o.r.e till he comes to hard-packed earth. Only then does he stop and turn around.

He sees the skiff perched on a wide shelf of sand. But it's settling now, slowly sinking back into the rising waters. For a brief time the waves seem to play with the little boat, pushing it toward the beach and drawing it out again; then they let go. Teo watches as the skiff floats gradually out to sea, growing smaller and smaller until it's lost in the fog and the darkness.

Only then does he turn away and head for the shelter of the forest. It's as if a door has closed in a corner of his mind. Behind it is his old life: his former home and all the people in it, and most especially his brother and the terrible thing he did.

Somehow Alexos knows all this and he fully understands: Teo will not remember him, not even the good things, not even the love they shared. But that's the bargain he made when he begged Athene to save his brother. And she has done it admirably. She has brought Teo across the River Styx with no need of a coin for the ferryman. And because he lived a pure and blameless life, brief though it was, he will be blessed in the Underworld.

In his dream, Alexos thanks the G.o.ddess.

Teo walks deeper into the forest. He senses that he is thirsty. And the moment the thought forms in his mind, he hears the rippling of water and looks down to see a clear stream running close beside him. It wasn't there before; he's sure he would have noticed it, for even under the canopy of trees on this foggy, foggy night, the air glows with the light of a thousand fireflies. But he doesn't ask himself why any of this is so. He just drops to his knees, makes a bowl with his hands, and draws the water, cold and sweet, up to his mouth.

When he can drink no more, he sits down on a nearby rock. It's the perfect height for a boy his size and is smooth and flat on top, almost as if it had been specially made for him to use as a stool. Only a formless sadness still lingers in the now-empty s.p.a.ce where his memory used to be-a sadness and a new awareness that he is very hungry.

Overhead, he hears a rustling of leaves, as if the wind has risen. But the air is perfectly still; there's not a hint of a breeze. He looks up to see a fruit tree, its smooth, heart-shaped leaves gleaming in the glowing light, so shiny you'd think someone had polished them. And the branches of the tree don't merely droop, as heavy-laden branches do. They actually reach down, as if to ask: Won't you have some? Take as many as you like.

He's never seen fruit like this before. It's not a peach, an apple, or a pear; and it's nothing at all like a fig. But it looks delicious. Teo bites through the fruit's smooth, delicate skin and finds it moist but not runny, tender but not soft, sweet without being cloying, and just a little tart. It's altogether new and the best thing he's ever tasted.

I know this place, Alexos is thinking now. It's the enchanted country the G.o.ddess showed me on festival day. It had seemed a paradise then. It seems so now.

Teo eats three of the fruits. Then he picks two more. When he's finished the last one and is quite satisfied, he looks up at the tree and thanks it. The tree shivers its leaves as if in reply and stands up straight again.

Teo's muscles don't ache anymore and the desolation that filled his heart has been replaced by something like hope. Also, he is very, very tired.

As it happens, there is a mossy hollow at the foot of the tree and it's just Teo's size. He lies down in it and curls up small, as he did earlier in the boat. But this is not hard and wet; it's soft and warm. As he drifts off to sleep, a gentle breeze rises and covers him with a blanket of leaves. The air fills with sweet music. The wind is singing a lullaby.

Now two figures emerge from the fog and stand over Teo. Alexos recognizes them too: it's the man and the girl from his vision. The man kneels by the mossy bed and takes Teo into his arms.

"What sort of creature is it?" the girl whispers.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Aria!" says the man. "It's a little boy."

"A human child?"

"Yes."

"But where did it come from?"

The man does not answer. "Let's go," is all he says.

Teo sleeps as he is carried out of the forest, back to the welcoming beach, then up a long, steep, winding path to the highest point on the island. Nor does he wake as he is laid on a down-filled pallet, then a blanket is draped over him and pulled up to his chin. But he feels the girl's tender kiss on his cheek. He can smell her breath: fresh, like clover.

"He's very sweet, Papa," the girl says.

"They generally are," the man replies.

13.

THE HAND LIFTS FROM his shoulder as softly as it fell. Then gradually, like a flower unfolding its petals from the bud, Alexos opens again into life. At the shock of it, he gulps in air and opens his eyes.

It's still dark in the room, but it must be morning now. Light bleeds in at the edges of the shutters where they meet the window frame. Across the room, Suliman wakes when he hears Alexos gasp.

Wordlessly he rises and goes to him. He pulls up a stool beside the bed and sits down.

"So," he says. It's almost a whisper. "You have returned to us."

"I didn't want to." This is the truth. "I wanted to stay there forever."

"Where?"

"In the Underworld."

Suliman sits up straighter. "You crossed the River?"

"I must have. It was a perfect paradise. I saw Teo. He'll be happy there. He has a kindly death-father and death-sister to love him and look after him."

Suliman doesn't speak, just studies him through half-closed eyes. Alexos feels the depth of his scrutiny; it makes him feel exposed, vulnerable, transparent.

"Shall I open the shutters?" Suliman says.

Light comes into the room along with a gust of cold air. It's autumn now, Alexos remembers; soon will come the bitter winds, the sleet, and then the snow. Suliman arranges the covers to keep the prince warm, then sits again and waits. Ever the patient man.

"I heard," Alexos says. They have things to say to each other. This is the best way he can think of to begin.

"What did you hear?"

"My father, what you talked about, everything."

Suliman looks down at his hands, folded in his lap. "And what did you think of it, Alexos?"

"I'm not sure. It's complicated."

"So it is. Would you like for me to prop you up? You look uncomfortable as you are."

"Yes, please."

Alexos feels his vertebrae shift as Suliman moves him. He lets out a little moan, but Suliman takes no notice. He just goes on arranging the pillows and covers in a brisk, professional way. Alexos senses the disapproval in his manner and knows he'll have to do a whole lot better than "I'm not sure. It's complicated."

"Will you take some water? Say yes, Alexos."

Alexos nods and accepts the drink he is offered. And that, he realizes, is all the prologue there is going to be. Now it's time for the main event.

He closes his eyes and tries to think. "I heard what you said, what you guessed might have happened to Teo."

"And?"

Alexos struggles with what to say next, because it really is complicated. Suliman's account of Teo's death had been remarkably close to what happened, almost to the end. And that version-an unfortunate accident-would be infinitely more comforting to the king and better for the kingdom than the ugly truth. Obviously it would also be better for Alexos, because if his crime is revealed, he will be ruined. What exactly will happen to him, he doesn't know-execution? banishment?-but there is no doubt it will be terrible.

On the other hand, he could lie. He could say to Suliman, "Yes, that's exactly how it was," and he would be magically washed free of blame so far as the world was concerned. He could go on as before, his reputation unsullied. He could even be king.

Alexos shoots Suliman a pleading look but Suliman just gazes back, still as stone. You have to do this yourself, he's saying. I can wait forever if I must.

"You know, don't you?" Alexos says.

"I think so."

"Then you must despise me."

Suliman pulls in a deep breath. He makes Alexos wait.

"No," he finally says. "I don't despise you. But I don't understand it either. It goes completely against your character to do willful harm-and to your brother, Alexos! How is that possible, when you loved him so much?"

"I don't know! That's the truth. It just happened somehow. My hand was on the bow; I meant to get into the boat. That was truly my intention. But then . . ." His voice breaks and he can't finish. Still, he's satisfied that he's done what was required. He's confessed his crime when he might have evaded it. Every word he said was true.

Tears are streaming down his cheeks now. He takes shuddering breaths, wipes his eyes and nose, tries to get control of himself. "I don't understand it, Suliman. I really don't."

Once again there is silence. Then, with admirable calm, "I think I have some idea, Alexos. May I tell you?"

"Please!"