Quiver Read Online Free Page B

forest.
    I ran on, as if I were passing a shadowy crowd of straining opponents, one by one by one.
    The sky went from crimson to indigo. The moon rose, veiled in drifts like cobwebs. Lights—torches—flickered in the distance. Hearing chanting, I stopped.
    We had reached the oracle.

EIGHT
    Apollo:
She’s fast!

Artemis:
Chaste, too. And devoted.

Apollo:
Then why are you making her suffer?

Artemis:
I didn’t mean to. It was bad planning.

Apollo:
Shall I send her a good dream?

Artemis:
I was hoping I could count on you.
    The cave was small, and low enough to make me stoop, but the straw pallet was laid with a cloud of fluffy white rams’ skins, and a rough drawing of Asclepius the Healer, complete with snake-entwined staff, hovered reassuringly on the wall.
    The silence inside was complete. With the sound of my own heartbeat sounding in my ears, I looked around in the torchlight, overwhelmed by the sense that I had been here before. No harm will come to me in this place, I thought, as the cave embraced me in some powerful yet long-forgotten fashion. With the thought my bones fairly melted, and I dropped to my knees in exhaustion.
    Aura settled herself near the entrance, and the attendant who had greeted us and led us here—her name, she said, was Zoi—hobbled out. A moment later she returned with a small terra-cotta cup.
    “Drink after you pray,” she said. Her eyes, a clear, innocent blue, met mine for the first time. “Heed well what you dream.” She gave me the cup.
    When I was alone, I asked Asclepius to heal my heart-sickness. I asked Artemis to guide me with a firm hand. I asked Zeus, Lord of all Creation, to smile on Meleager’s shade and grant it peace.
    The dark liquid smelled like wood tar. It was terribly bitter, but I drank it all. Then I slept. I am in a shadowy, high-ceilinged room. A man sits before me, wrapped in a cloak. His face is waxen, his eyes red-rimmed, and he is gaunt enough to be mortally ill.
    There are three golden bowls on the floor before his throne, brimming with bloody organs and entrails. From their size I guess they are animal rather than human, and wonder if they are offerings.
    The man beckons, and the heavy gold rings on his long fingers clack like bones. I do not wish to show fear, but I hesitate. Seeing this, he grins hugely.
    Artemis and I are in a pine grove, reclining together in the manner of old friends. Her great hound, Phoebus, lounges nearby with Aura. The air is soft and fragrant and I am completely at ease with the goddess, as if she and I often passed time together this way.
    I feel I can ask her anything. “I have been wondering what to do now that the Hunt is over,” I say.
    “Whatever you do,” she replies, lifting her fine eyebrows ever so slightly for emphasis, “avoid marriage.” Her eyes, catching mine, are a pale gray-green, the color of lichen.
    “Marriage will bring you trouble,” she adds.
    I have very little interest in marriage. “More trouble!” I exclaim lightly. “Is that possible?”
    She laughs, revealing a tiny gap between her two front teeth. “Anything is possible,” she says mischievously, “but surely you knew that?”
    Now I do, I think. I repeat her words silently, and they warm my heart:
anything is possible
.
    I am running along the ocean. The sand is as fine and as white as linen, welcoming me with every stride. I hear the deep thrum of footsteps behind me and know that I am in a race. My legs have never felt stronger; I might be wearing winged sandals like Hermes, messenger of the gods. I pick up the pace without effort and pull far ahead of my opponents, breathing deeply and easily, enjoying the absolute certainty that I will win.
    I am lying in a thicket of brambles, curled around a small, warm body that nuzzles me, mewling. My eyes are closed. I am exhausted, yet so wonderfully content that I fairly vibrate with happiness. I find the body—so tiny next to mine—and lick it again and again and again.

NINE
    I woke