“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?”

“What does it mean, to know?” Crocus asked, an extremely characteristic question from him. “I have not heard it spoken since I became myself. The occasional word from Lysias or Klio, yes, but we all preferred to speak Greek. Greek is the language of my soul. Greek has philosophical clarity. But English is stored in my memory. It is a command language.”

“I hope it’s not too painful to speak,” I said.

“That’s why it’s important that I go and relieve Sixty-One,” he said.

“We’ll come along and join you there in an hour or so,” Dad said.

“Joy to you both.”

“Joy to you, Crocus,” I said, and Dad echoed me. Klymene climbed up onto his back, and they trundled off towards the spaceport.

“He seems much like everyone else, only big and metallic, and then suddenly he comes out with something like that,” I said, when he had rolled out of earshot.