Zeus smiled at her. “True, and well deduced.” He looked at my brothers. “New planets need their own pantheons, and it seems we have one all ready.” He turned to Ikaros. “It has to do with place. Place is much more important to deity than you’ve ever considered. You should get out more. Travel.”

“On another planet?” he asked.

Zeus looked at Athene. “Were you planning to keep him as a pet?”

“There are a lot of wonderful times and places he hasn’t seen on Earth,” she said. “And then perhaps later other planets.”

Zeus waved his hand, and thunder rumbled nearby. “Do what you want. You will anyway. You agree, Ikaros? You’ll work with Athene?”

“If the City doesn’t need me.”

“The City will get along without you, on its new planet. And as well as going sightseeing with Athene, which I’m sure you’ll enjoy, there are Mysteries here you can be working on.” He looked at Maia. “How about you? Do you want to stay here or go on?”

“Go on,” she said.

“Good. The Republic will need you. You’ll be directing it in a few years, you know, you and Crocus. And then you.” He indicated Neleus. Lightning danced around his head. “Philosopher kings. It won’t be easy.”

“It hasn’t been easy so far,” Maia said.

“I swore that same oath,” Neleus said. “Fight bravely, judge fairly, contribute to the best of my abilities. We all did. We all want to go.”

I was looking at Neleus, and so were my other brothers as he spoke for them, and for a moment it was the way it had been before the voyage, when we had seen that we were all one thing, and he was another. But now, on Olympos, we looked to him for leadership. We had our powers. But he was the most philosophical. And that made him the best of us.

“But another sun?” Father asked, sounding worried.

“You can have it,” Zeus said wearily. “Now, is there anything else before I send the pack of you back where you belong?”

32. Apollo

32

APOLLO

Euripides puts it very well: Zeus brings the unthought to be, as here we see.

Before we left Olympos I took Athene aside and took care of a few details. I scrawled “Goodness” on the parchment map they gave Maecenas in Lucia, and gave it to her to put into her arm-rest so that I could find it there. “Any time between the Last Debate and last autumn. And if you get the chance, could you possibly take the head of Victory and donate it to the Louvre so the poor thing can be back in one piece again? Oh, and for goodness’ sake, get us some more robots,” I said.

“Porphyry will get you robots,” she said. “Father’s going to be loading me down with work here.”