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“and she asked them how long he would live.
    “As long as it takes for that stick of wood to burn away,’’ said one, pointing to the fire.
    “Althea was horrified. The instant they were gone she pulled the stick from the flames and hid it away. Time passed; she watched Meleager grow into a fine young man. The Fates were outwitted, or so she thought.”
    I had last seen Althea as we departed for the hunt. She had wished me well, putting her small, bejeweled hand on my shoulder, reaching up to press her cheek against mine. She had beautiful dark eyes like her son, and the affection in them had touched my heart. I had thought enviously that Meleager was lucky to have such a mother.
    “She learned otherwise, and most cruelly,” said Jason.
    I tried to imagine Althea’s anguish when the Fates told her how soon her child would die. In attempting to save him, she had done what any mother would, yet how could she hope to outwit the Implacable Ones? No mortal has that power.
    The Fates simply lay in wait, anticipating the bloody clash between Meleager and his uncles. When it came, it transformed Althea from a protective mother into a murderous one, who killed her son to avenge her brothers.
    It was a sequence of events horrible beyond imagining.
    “She burned the stick?” I asked.
    Jason breathed out heavily. “And then took her own life.”
    I closed my eyes. I should not have come, I thought. I should have sent an excuse to Meleager and stayed in Arcadia. If I had done so, only the boar would have died. The others would still be alive.
    As if he had heard me, Jason said, “Do not blame yourself for any of this.”
    “How can I not?” I replied. “Even you would not have me on the
Argo
.” Fearing that he could not keep peace with a woman aboard, Jason had not invited me on the voyage to Colchis. I had failed to understand his reasoning at the time; I could think only of the glory he and his men had won. From the moment they presented the Golden Fleece to Jason’s uncle, King Pelias—to his astonishment, for the Fleece was guarded by an insomniac serpent with a deadly temper—Jason and his comrades had become demi-gods.
    Knowing this had made me all the more eager to join the Hunt, and when Meleager sent word, I had literally raced all the way to Calydon, making the four-day journey in two and a half. Nothing could keep me away; I burned to prove that I belonged in the company of heroes. Even if the boar were Artemis’ creature, I told myself, the goddess would understand my need.
    I had offered to her liberally before leaving.
    But what had I won in Calydon? Terrible sadness for the deaths I had witnessed. Disgrace for the ones I had caused. A name that would be uttered with pity, or worse, linked as it was to the woes of this blighted kingdom. And shame for my kin, who had taken such pride in me.
    It was difficult to speak. When at length I could, I asked Jason, haltingly, what I should do.
    “Go to Gortys,” he said.

SIX
    I left the palace before dawn, carrying only my weapons. Aura, Meleager’s favorite hound, followed me out. I saw no reason to discourage her. She was a rangy, sociable dog, with a mouse-brown coat, bright amber eyes, and a perpetually wagging tail. Now that Meleager was gone, she would need company.
    So would I. Gortys was many days’ journey from Calydon, and though I was armed, and could outrun anyone on two legs, Aura would surely be helpful; bandits, as well as centaurs, roamed the hills.
    As we approached the gates, she darted ahead of me, neck extended, tail rigid. In the half-light I recognized the boar’s head and hide lying near one of the stone pillars. Aura nosed the malodorous heap eagerly; it was not easy to pull her away.
    I wondered if the great trophies of the hunt would be left here to rot, or if they would be fed to the funeral pyres later in the day. Costly offerings, I thought.
    The cypresses guarding the palace stood black against an electrum sky. A damp wind