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“Who is ‘they’?” I asked carefully. “You mean the Pythia of this era?”
“Among others.”
“What others?”
He looked up in order to roll his eyes at me. “The Pythias whose times we just violated the hell out of—what do you think?”
“What?”
He nodded. “All the Pythias. From all the times you just dragged me through—”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No!”
“Yes. Did you really think you could expend that kind of power and no one would notice?”
I looked at him in horror. “But . . . but they couldn’t . . . But we didn’t . . . We only stopped here—”
“But it’s like a freeway, isn’t it?” Rosier asked, sawing away and looking insanely unconcerned. “You get on, you get off, but it’s not as if you disappear in between. Not as if that part doesn’t count. Y
ou can’t tell the officer who pulls you over, Yes, sir, I know I was speeding, but it doesn’t matter since I’m just passing through—”
He broke off, possibly because I had just reached out and grabbed him. And dragged him through his nicely arranged pile of twigs and moss, scattering it everywhere. And causing a couple stray sparks to flare and then abruptly go out, making him curse, but it didn’t matter. None of it mattered, because we were about to be so very, very dead—
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he demanded.
“What is wrong with me? You! You are what is wrong with me! You and a dozen Pythias—”
“Be quiet!”
“Like hell I’ll be quiet! I can’t fight—”
“No, you can’t! And right now, neither can I. And there could be brigands in these woods—”
“Brigands? Who cares about brigands? Did you hear me? I can’t fight a dozen Pyth—”
A hand came down over my mouth. “Shut. Up.”
“You shut up!” I tore away from him. “You didn’t mention—you didn’t say anything about—”
“Why should I have to?” he demanded. “You’re the Pythia—”
I pointed a shaking finger at him. “And you know damned well—”
“That you know nothing? That you’re the most ridiculous choice to hold that office in memory? To have the power of a goddess wielded by an incompetent child . . .” He broke off at my expression. “Oh, what?” he demanded, throwing out his arms. “Have I dented the divine pride? Hurt the heavenly ego? Offended the omnipotent—”
“Shut up!”
“And if I don’t? What are you going to do, little goddess? Kill me?”
If I’d had any strength, I don’t know. I honestly don’t know what would have happened. Fortunately for both of us, if there was something below empty, I was sitting on it.
Which, of course, meant we were going to be dead even faster than normal as soon as the posse caught up with us.
“I don’t have to,” I told him unsteadily. “There’s a couple dozen women on the way to do that already.”
