“It’s wonderful,” Dad said. “We’ll have so much to learn from each other. So much history to exchange. And we’ll be able to visit Earth, and their new planets. All that art!”

“No art raids on Earth!” I said, smiling at the impossibility.

Dad gave a little laugh. “I wouldn’t put it past the Amazons if they had the means. Art exchange, now—wouldn’t it be something if we could get them interested in joining in!”

“They might want to join in the Olympics and other athletic contests, and be prepared to put some of their art in as prizes,” I said, excited at the thought. “It’s something we could suggest. It’s such a great way of having it circulate.”

“And it keeps the young hotheads focused on competing instead of killing each other,” Dad said, soberly. He remembered the art raids, of course, and had lost his mother and friends to them. It was hard to keep in mind, when they seemed to me like old history.

“We should bring up such participation in negotiations,” Crocus said.

“They might even have made some new art in the centuries since. They must have. I wonder what it’s like?” I asked.

“It will be so interesting to find out, and to talk to humans,” Crocus said, then stopped. “You are humans too. What should we call them?”

“Earth humans?” Klymene suggested.

“But we all come from Earth,” Crocus said. “Space humans?”

“Perhaps they’ll have space Workers,” I said.

“I would like that very much,” Crocus said.

“Maybe we can call them by the name of their ship, or their civilization, when we know it,” Dad said.

“I will come with you to the spaceport, Klymene,” Crocus said.

“Don’t you want to go to Thessaly too?” she asked. “We can manage. And I know you and Pytheas were close.”

“I have been there and paid my respects. And there’s bound to be a proper memorial later.”

“I don’t know,” Dad said. “It’s an odd circumstance. It’s not as if he’s dead the way anyone else would be. There could be a memorial for Pytheas, for his mortal life, but … he’s also and really Apollo, and Apollo’s still alive with all his memories. He’s an undying god. He could come to his own memorial. He might be at Thessaly now.”

“If he is, would he look like Grandfather, or like his statues?” I asked, simultaneously horrified and fascinated.

“I have no idea,” Dad said.

Klymene shuddered.

“Hey, he forgave you,” Dad said. I had no idea what he was talking about.

“And I forgave him,” Klymene said, shaking her ancient head. Then she saw my frown. “Old history, Marsilia. Don’t worry about it.”

“We will probably vote on the treaty tomorrow. Now I will go to talk to the ship,” Crocus said. “They may need me to translate, though I fear I will not understand the subtleties.”

“I thought you said you knew English?”