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“Yes.”
“I meant all of you. Even the weird bits.”
“Remind me to burn this place to the ground as soon as we leave,” she said, adoring him.
“Absolutely not.” He looked around at the patrons. People of every race, age, and time period seemed to be hanging out together. Native Americans in feathered headdresses chatted pleasantly with pirates. Girls with eighties mall bangs flirted with guys right out of Elizabethan England. “I like it inside your head. It’s strange, but it suits me.”
Helen looked around, and it all made sense to her. How cool would it be to be able to go to a café and strike up a conversation with someone from another time and place? It was something she’d always imagined doing, and now it looked like she didn’t have to imagine it anymore. She could be a part of it.
Neither of them was hungry or thirsty, they were just there to taste something yummy and enjoy each other’s company. It was chilly out, but pleasantly so, and when Helen looked at what they were wearing, both of them were dressed perfectly for a fall day. She hadn’t remembered dressing them, but they were definitely wearing some new clothes.
“Come on,” he said, standing up and putting on his newly created coat. “I want to take a walk before it snows.”
They left the café and started wandering down the cobblestone street, past shops and buildings that were busy with all kinds of people going about their lives. Helen had no idea where all these people came from. She guessed she’d made them up or remembered them. Whichever it was, Helen knew they were based in reality, and that was comforting to her. It would have been odd to wander around an empty city, or worse, a city full of mannequin-like robots.
The sun was setting, and Helen smelled snow in the air, just as Lucas had predicted. Windows lit up with warm glows as people turned on their lights or lit candles. Lucas had his arm over her shoulder as they strolled down the street.
“There are no poor people. No homeless,” he said suddenly.
“No,” Helen replied. “Everyone has what they need here.”
“But how could anyone be grateful for what they have if they didn’t know what it was like not to have what they need?”
Helen shook her head and looked down. “I’ve always thought that was the lamest argument—that we need some people to be poor in order to remind the rest of us to be grateful. All that really means is that someone has to suffer poverty so other people can feel better about themselves. What a selfish way to look at the world.”
Lucas chuckled and squeezed her against his side. “I agree. But you have to admit it is human nature to only really appreciate something if you’ve worked for it, or if you know you can lose it. How are you going to make the inhabitants of your little heaven feel fulfilled if everything comes to them easily?”
“Ah. The old ‘heaven is boring’ problem, huh? Not in
this universe.” Helen looked up at Lucas, and they smiled at each other. “We’ll figure something out. We’ve got plenty of time.”
“Wait,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her. “What do you mean ‘we’ve got plenty of time’?”
“Just that we’re young,” Helen replied cagily.
Before Lucas could continue asking questions, Helen imagined a carnival, and it appeared in front of them. Bright, multicolored lights flashed in the evening light, and cheerful music piped around them. The scent of spun sugar sweetened the air, and elsewhere they could smell something juicy and spicy getting grilled.
“Amazing,” Lucas breathed. “Everything she wants she gets.”
Helen pulled on his arm, grinning mischievously. “And what I want right now is to ride the carousel.”
Matt heard Telamon sound the alarm. No human or Scion would ever be able to discern the skritching noises that the Myrmidons made from the chorus of natural noises on a beach, but Matt could easily tell the difference between the voices of the insects and those of his soldiers.
He left his tent to watch a party of Scions coming up the beach. Matt had known most of them from Troy and had disliked most of them. Odysseus was the only one worthy of respect.
“So it’s true,” said a large, blond man. Matt knew him as Menelaus. “The Warrior has finally joined the fight.”
“Tantalus. Head of Thebes,” Telamon whispered in Matt’s ear. Matt nodded.
“When Hermes told me that Myrmidons were massing on the shore, I knew the last piece of the puzzle had been found, and you were coming to fight,” Tantalus continued, although Matt hadn’t asked him to. An uncomfortable silence followed as Matt stared at Tantalus, still reluctant to make an alliance with this man, although he knew it was inevitable. The Myrmidons had voted for it.
“You hired one of my soldiers. Automedon. He was one of my closest friends once,” Matt said, expressionless. “Before he lost his way.”
“Yes,” Tantalus said warily as he sized up Matt. “I had nothing to do with his death, though.”
“Uh-huh.” Matt looked at the two men on either side of Tantalus—Odysseus on his left and Agamemnon on his right. Pallas Delos, as Matt knew Agamemnon now.
“How’d this happen, Matt?” Pallas asked, dismayed. He gestured to the Myrmidon warriors, arrayed in precise ranks.
