A/N: Thanks for your reviews! This chapter is a nice long one again, and you get to meet a new character at this point. I am going to warn you: Thanatos is going to lose some brownie points in this chapter. If you like him, sorry.
Chapter 13: Self-Defense and Stories
Much like this morning with Lady Hecate, she followed Lord Thanatos on his rounds. The area he oversaw was too large to go on foot.
"Sometimes I ride if I'm not going too far," he said over his shoulder as they strode down the hallways.
"I don't know how to ride," she panted as she tried to keep up with his long strides. She also did not want him to hold her as Lord Hades had done during their ride together.
Lord Thanatos stopped abruptly, facing her. There was a scythe in his hand that hadn't been there before. The handle was of thick, black wood, while the blade was a bright, white metal. It was so sharp it hurt to look at it. Lord Thanatos gave an eerie grin that made her back up a step.
"Well then, I guess we'll have to take the fast way," he said, and swung the scythe at her. She didn't have time to jump back; she closed her eyes and braced for pain, her heart pounding. There was no pain. Lord Thanatos gave a low chuckle, and she cracked open her eyes.
As it turned out, Lord Death had a unique way to travel. The scythe that was a symbol of his office was sharp enough to cut anything—including the fabric of space. He made a slash in the air, and she could see a wholly new place through the gap. Unfortunately, he needed to touch her to bring her through the passageway. Neither of them were comfortable with holding hands, so he offered his arm like a gentleman. She took it, and they stepped through the rent in the air. She looked back to see it closing behind them, with no sign it had ever been there.
They had gone from a corridor in the palace to a half-threshed field in an instant. Laborers paused in their work to tug their forelocks in respect. Not a few of them stared at her in curiosity. Lord Thanatos did not see fit to introduce her, and merely inspected the crops. He spoke out loud for her benefit, explaining the things he was looking for. When he was done there, they went to another field, then an orchard, and then a large vegetable garden.
She began to realize that the Underworld was far larger than she ever imagined. It wasn't only a place for the dead, but an entire self-supported metropolis. She soon learned that Lord Thanatos was a strict overlord. He was treated with a respect that bordered on fear. Anytime he found something questionable, his scythe would appear in his hands. At the sight of it, spirits would pale and stammer. In the land above, the scythe could kill anything. In the land of the dead, it was one of the few things that could harm the ghosts.
Lady Hecate did not hesitate to discipline the maids she found lacking, but Lord Thanatos tolerated fewer mistakes. She gathered that the souls working within the palace had committed lesser infractions during their lives, while those in the fields had more to account for.
Just like with Lady Hecate, she set out to learn about the Underworld, and learned more about Lord Hades. He was generous. The spirits needed no food, no rest, no human comforts, yet he provided all of it to him. Nearly all the food in the fields went directly to feeding the spirits who worked in the Underworld. There was no call for the food of the dead in the world above, and the few gods who lived here could have been provided for in a much smaller scale. But the food wasn't only to see to the well-being of the souls.
Nothing in the laws said that Lord Hades had to offer pardons and reprieves to the shades he judged. Their disposition after death was left entirely to him. If he should choose to cast them all into Tartarus, there was none to protest. But instead he judged them fairly, and he did not only look at their actions. A man who killed for gain was not judged the same as the man who killed to defend his family, and he granted a certain amount of leniency to the latter. Instead of being thrown directly into Tartarus where they must suffer grievously for their actions, he offered them the choice of service to lessen their sentence. The service was long, and often onerous and unpleasant, but that too was fair: they were not wholly pardoned from their actions. They must have some punishment for their crimes, and to most hard work was better than burning flames of Tartarus.
By providing food and clothing—there were flax and cotton fields as well—not only was Lord Hades allowing the deceased a measure of humanity, he was also increasing the number of souls he could offer that reprieve. His sense of justice could not excuse a person from their sentence in Tartarus without consequence; therefore he made sure there was work for every hand. One hundred years seemed a long time to a mortal, but to the life of a god and the deceased, it was not much time at all.
Furthermore, there hadn't been growing things when he first came to the Underworld. He had taken what must have been a barren and inhospitable land, and nurtured it into the place of beauty it was now. Death was not an endless torture, or a place where souls ceased to have meaning. They had purpose, whether it was in serving, or in waiting to be reborn in Asphodel, or enjoying a life well-lived in Elysium.
The more Persephone saw of what Lord Hades had done, the more she fell in love with him.
Eventually they left the growing things behind, and came to the mines. Once more, there seemed to be a rougher sort of people here. Lord Thanatos didn't say anything, but she kept closer to him out of caution. The mines were mostly vertical pits navigated by a series of steep ladders and narrow walkways. She was claustrophobic and vertiginous at the same time. Lord Thanatos could use his scythe to bring them to the mine, but to inspect it, they must travel through it on foot. The ghosts might not be harmed if they fell from a great height, but she had no desire to test her own resilience to injury.
It did not help that she kept seeing things out of the corners of her eyes. It was a flicker of movement, always half-glimpsed and never present when she turned her head. Sometimes it seemed to be a faint glow, like with the Underworld plants and Lord Hades. But there was no living thing here. The shades themselves had a tiny bit of that same light, for they too had partaken of the Underworld food. She was never sure if what she saw was only the spirits working, or if the light came from the walls themselves. It was very confusing to her senses. She felt haunted, and it made her jumpy. Finally, she asked Lord Thanatos about it.
"You mean like this?" He blew hard into his cupped hands, and then pressed his palms to the mineshaft wall. Light expanded from his hands, faint and short-lived, illuminating mineral vein and crystal matrixes in the rock wall. She gasped in wonder. It wasn't as strong as what the plants gave off, but she wished she could see more of it. She touched the dark wall blindly, but her fingers did not make the same spark that Lord Thanatos' did.
"You should see when Hades comes here," he said. "The entire place lights up for him."
"It's beautiful," she said wistfully. She wasn't as afraid of the close dark now that she knew what it could look like.
"Do you think do?" There was pride in his voice. "Do you not miss the sun, the fields, the flowers where you grew up? The company of your friends?"
She was taken aback by the intensity of his questions. If it had been Lord Hades asking, she might have answered with the truth: though she thought of her home sometimes, there were inducements to stay. There were fields and flowers plenty here, and instead of the sun, there was the gentle light that could be coaxed out of the realm. As for the company, she missed her mother, but she was hardly going to meet another such as Lord Hades, stern and generous, powerful but gentle, anywhere else.
But Lord Thanatos' reactions were too unpredictable. At times he seemed to be interested in her, and his attentions made her feel awkward. There was only one man that she wanted to notice her.
So she answered casually, "I suppose sometimes, but I appreciate what Lord Hades has done for me."
Lord Thanatos frowned, dissatisfied with her answer. He led the way deeper into the mine to continue the inspection. As before in the fields, he neglected to introduce her to the workers. She had grown used to the stares, and ignored them. In the mines though, there were whispers as well as stares, and one of the miners grew bold. A man stepped between Lord Thanatos and herself, blocking her way.
"Come now, pretty girl," he leered. "Don't be passing by so quickly. We've not had company in so long, surely you wouldn't begrudge us a kiss?"
She backed away from him in alarm, but he grabbed her arm. Instantly she flashed to the other gods. Her heart pounded in panic, and her skin turned clammy. She should have been stronger than the spirit, but fear held her paralyzed. The miner leaned in, making kissing noises, egged on by the others around him.
"I wouldn't," Lord Death said in a cool, bored tone. His scythe was in his hands, and he absently rolled the shaft between his palms. "She belongs to Lord Hades."
The mention of Lord Hades cleared the mineshaft faster than the appearance of the scythe. Persephone stood in the empty tunnel, shocked and trembling. She thought she was getting over this irrational fear of males, but all it took was one suggestive comment from a stranger, and she was reduced to terror.
Lord Thanatos sighed, cut the air, then grabbed her arm and pulled her through. She stumbled into an already harvested field. He released her arm as soon as she was steady enough not to fall. She was pathetically grateful, because she'd been about to cry from the contact.
"In the future," he informed her curtly, "When a stranger grabs you, I expect you to pull free."
She hung her head in shame. Had it looked like she'd enjoyed the attention? Did he think she was flirting with the other man on purpose? If she could have pulled away, she would have! Lord Thanatos thrust his arm at her. She flinched back.
"Grab my arm," he said sternly. She shook her head, backing away from him. He stalked after her.
"For your safety and well-being, you will grab my arm," he warned. Still she trembled and refused. He stopped chasing her.
"If you do not grab my arm, I will return you to the world above, and inform Hades that you have grown tired of his presence," he hissed.
Tears sprang to her eyes. How could he be so cruel? That was the last thing she wanted Lord Hades to think of her. If he felt even the smallest inclination toward her, that statement would surely kill it. She cried silently as she stepped forward and placed her hand on his arm.
"Both hands," Lord Thanatos instructed relentlessly. "Actually hold onto me, like you want to hurt me."
She was not usually a violent person, but he had threatened to leave her defenseless and lie to Lord Hades about her. She dug her fingers in, not as hard as she could have, but harder than necessary. He made a quick, vicious move that left her hands empty and fingers stinging.
"That is what I want you to do next time someone grabs you," he said.
She gaped at him.
He sighed, and showed her again, moving slightly slower. It took her twice more to get the basic concept, and then he had her practice by trying to escape him. He didn't make it easy for her, gripping her arm hard enough to leave bruises. He worked her mercilessly. After she could get away from both one-handed and two-handed grabs, he began to show her a few other moves to protect herself. Gradually it evolved into a full self-defense course. He assaulted her again and again. Each time he got past her defenses, he threw her to the ground, knocking the air from her lungs.
At first she vented her frustration at him, not worried about holding back. He certainly wasn't going easy for her sake. She was bruised all over and huffing for breath, her clothes dirty and torn. Red marks littered her skin; by evening, they would all darken to bruises. Her anger at this unfair treatment kept her going for a while, but it could only sustain her for so long.
There came a time when she couldn't take it any longer. She landed on her back for the last time. She tried to get up, but her body refused. Waves of pain washed over her. Her skin was clammy with sweat. She was shaking, not just from exhaustion, but fear. Fear of being hurt again, fear of being under this man's power, fear of being helpless and unable to change it. Lord Death stood above her, as fresh as he had been this morning, his expression taunting. He wasn't even breathing hard.
"Get up," he said remorselessly. She really did try, but her limbs weren't listening. Her head fell back as she gave up. He could do whatever he wanted to her. She was defeated.
"Is this how you plan to stand by Hades?" he sneered. "Do you think he will respect you because you are weak? What if someone goes through you to hurt him, because you can't even defend yourself?" He spat on the ground in disgust and walked away.
His words struck her worse than a physical blow. Lord Hades had always been quick to defend her. He was stronger and faster than her. She had enjoyed his protection. But if they were attacked, maybe by one of the gods that tried to rape her, she was a weakness. He would be too busy trying to defend her to protect himself. From somewhere, she found a little strength to drag herself upright. She stood, swaying but determined.
"No," she whispered through parched lips. Lord Thanatos turned to face her.
"I won't let him be hurt because of me," she swore. He gave a fierce grin. It didn't stop him from knocking her into dust though. She pushed herself hard during the lesson, trying to learn instead of merely enduring the punishment. He did not go easier on her, but he no longer mocked her. He gave her more time to recover when she ended up on the ground; at some point, she'd earned his respect.
Despite her resolve, there once more came a time when she couldn't rise again. This time is had less to do with her willpower, and more with the utter failure of her body. She fought bitterly to stand, tears springing to her eyes. She was spent, in pain, and all she would think about was how she was failing Lord Hades by not getting up. Lord Thanatos sat on the ground beside her. At least he was showing a little more fatigue than before, though not nearly as much as her.
"Rest, Lady Persephone," he said gently. "I pushed you hard, and you did well. Better than I expected from one who has been so sheltered. I cannot fault your spirit."
She still felt like a failure, and said so.
"You're not a failure unless you give up," he said. "You never gave up."
She took a few more minutes to catch her breath. It was hard not to give way to hopeless tears. Eventually enough feeling returned to her limbs that she could sit up.
"Shall I take you back to the palace?" he offered.
A bath and a change of clothes sounded great, but…
"If I wanted to learn more about the Underworld, from more than just you, Lady Hecate and Lord Hades, is there anyone else I should talk to?"
His eyes glinted with pride in her. "You should talk to Charon. I'll take you there."
They did stop by the palace briefly, so she could change her ripped dress for one that was more appropriate. She splashed a little water on her face, but did not want to keep Lord Thanatos waiting for too long.
He brought her to the foggy bank of a wide river. Behind them was the hazy orange torchlight of the town. In front of them, the black waters of the river rippled faintly with the current, deceptively lazy. It made a soothing rushing sound, faint but steady. The far bank was invisible in the mist, giving the impression that it went on forever. A shadow moved in the mist, and resolved into a high prowed, flat bottomed boat. It was loaded with fresh souls, still shocked to find themselves dead. A man's voice spoke, deep and calm, the words indistinguishable. It was the ferryman, cloaked in grey, poling his barge across the river.
He pushed the nose of his boat into the sand of the bank, and then turned the boat sidelong to it, allowing the spirits to disembark. Once they stood on the shore, Furies came forward to take charge of the deceased. The ghosts were herded along to where they would be held until their judging. Then it was only Persephone, Lord Thanatos, and the grey-cloaked boatman.
"Hello, Charon," Lord Thanatos called cheerfully.
The ferryman, in the act of freeing his boat from the bank, paused and grinned at them. "Hello, Thanatos! And who is this?" He looked at Persephone curiously.
"This is Persephone, Demeter's daughter, and Hades' guest for a time," Lord Thanatos introduced her. Lord Charon studied her with interest.
"I've not heard of Hades having a guest before," he mused, and exchanged a look with Lord Thanatos that was very similar to the ones between that same lord and the goddess of witchcraft.
"Just so," Lord Thanatos agreed with a touch of smugness.
"Then I welcome you, little goddess," Lord Charon said, his tone friendly.
"Lord Charon," she curtsied.
The boatman's eyebrows rose. "I say, did I get lorded when I wasn't looking?"
She blushed, but his voice was teasing instead of sarcastic.
"She is interested in your stories," Lord Thanatos explained.
"Well then, come aboard, young Persephone, and I will tell them to you."
She hesitated. Even as sheltered as she was, she knew of Lord Charon and his fee for a boat ride. "I don't have a coin," she said apologetically.
"Then work for me, and I will pay your passage," he responded.
How long would it take to pay off a trip in the boat? She looked to Lord Thanatos for reassurance. He nodded to her.
"I'll have you home in time for dinner," Lord Charon promised, and she got on the boat.
He stood at the stern of the vessel and used a long wooden pole to guide the craft through the water. She looked for another pole to help, but he shook his head at her. He directed her to take a seat.
"You'll be watching me first," he explained, so she settled near him in the stern to watch. He handled the bargepole as if it weighed nothing, planting it on the bank and pushing hard against it to send them out into the river. The boat rocked gently, but the motion was rather soothing. The fog quickly swallowed up the bank of the river, and soon they were alone on the water. Her breathing sounded loud to her ears. Lord Charon kept lifting the pole and setting it down again as he directed them across the river, but they might as well have been not moving for how it looked. There was no direction here, no markers, nothing to show a change in position at all. She didn't want to be nervous, but she was. They could be lost, and she wouldn't know it until they never made landfall.
She watched Lord Charon, because at least he moved, constantly punting them across the water to some destination only he knew. He didn't speak, but the silence was companionable. She grew used to the soft sound of the river on the hull of the boat, the tiny, almost-musical splashes of water from the pole. When the sound changed, she heard it. The boat jostled a little more as the current changed.
She peered blindly through the fog at the prow of the boat, and began to make out a faint, spectral glow ahead of them. It reminded her of Lord Hades in the fields, only not so bright. She was not surprised when the glow became a crowd of ghosts, and the boat bumped into the sandy bank. As Lord Charon turned the boat broadside to the shore, she could hear the spirits protesting.
"You don't understand, I'm not dead!"
"I can't be dead, it was only a little sickness!"
"Cyprienne! Where are you? Don't leave me, Cyprienne!"
"I'm alive, you can't bury me!"
She shivered at their words, but Lord Charon was unaffected. He'd probably heard it all before. The ghost grew quiet as he moved to the side of his boat. They gathered close as if irresistibly drawn to him. He held out a hand.
"One coin," he said simply.
"This is a mistake…" one of the spirits muttered half-heartedly, but others were already stepping forward. One by one they dropped a coin into Lord Charon's palm, and took their place on the boat. He gently helped them on board, placing the coins into a small pouch on his belt. He treated them the same whether they gave him the least copper jot or a heavy gold coin. Some rather shyly offered things that were not coins, but beads of wood, glass, or shell. He accepted these as well. She supposed that as long as it was used as a currency somewhere, it was still an appropriate offering. What did he do with so much money?
Once the spirits paid their fee and were on the boat, they no longer protested. It was hard to argue against death once the ferryman was paid. They sat on benches with a kind of numbed horror, realizing that they had indeed reached the end of their lives. A few souls lingered on the shores, either refusing to believe or without coin of their own. Lord Charon cast his eye over them one last time, then climbed into the boat and shoved off with his pole.
The craft was crowded but not full. Nor did the boat sit lower in the water than before. They could have easily taken a couple dozen more ghosts. Perhaps the spirits did not have weight as they did in life. There was restless shuffling among the passengers as they fidgeted nervously. One or two wept softly. She longed to comfort them, but didn't know if it was allowed. What could she say to sooth the newly dead?
Do not fear, the Underworld is a beautiful place. It's like nothing you've been told about it. There are still fields and trees here, and a thriving town, and a palace of riches like you've never seen. The people who live here are kind and generous. Lord Hades is a just man, and he will see you placed where you belong…
She glanced at Lord Charon. He winked and gestured for her to wait. The shore faded from view, and they were once more alone on the water. After they had been underway for a few minutes, Lord Charon began to speak. He had a deep, calm voice; not loud, but pitched to carry. It was one of those steady, reassuring voices that people would turn to in a crisis. The shades stilled as they listened, grateful to have something else to focus on.
He spoke of the history of the gods, from the beginning with Uranus and Gaia. She knew of it in vague terms. Persephone had been an indifferent student when it came to history, and Demeter an indifferent teacher. However Lord Charon's story was rich and detailed. He was not merely reciting names in a list, but describing them. He had stories she had never heard before. She didn't know if he had made them up, or spoke from an older history that had not survived the titan war. History would never be her favorite subject, but she couldn't complain of boredom when Lord Charon spoke about it.
The souls were much calmer as they listened to him. His timing was excellent, and as his story drew to an end, the first bank came into view again. He landed his boat on the shore, and the ghosts disembarked. They seemed more resigned to their fates. No more complaints were heard. Lord Charon pushed his boat into the current again. She stood cautiously and offered to help. He shook his head.
"So impatient," he teased. "Sit down. I will tell you when I expect you to help."
She retreated once more. He didn't speak as they crossed the river again. It was still unnerving to be surrounded so completely by the fog. She looked around for any landmarks that Lord Charon might be using to navigate. If they existed, she couldn't find them. She wasn't comfortable enough to ask how he knew where to go. Her attention was divided between trying to guess their direction and the story he had told. Did he say the same thing to every group that passed over? She could only imagine how tedious that would be. And why would he care to tell such things to the spirits? Was it only a distraction to keep them quiet, or did he have another purpose? Or was he only speaking for her benefit?
They reached the far bank. There was another group of spirits waiting for him. She couldn't tell if this was the same landing they used before, or a completely new place. There were no marks in the sand from the boat, but she supposed the current might have erased them. Lord Charon took the coins as before, loading his vessel until no more came forward. She watched him expectantly as he pushed out into the fog once more. He smiled at her, and began to speak.
It was both a new story, and a continuation of the one he'd told before. To the spirits it sounded like a complete tale of its own, but she recognized it as a new chapter in the history he'd already begun. Even though this story was as interesting as the last, she was a bit restless. Technically the gods and titans he talked about were her own ancestors, but it had happened so long ago she didn't feel connected to them. It wasn't relevant to her. After such a busy day with both Lady Hecate and Lord Thanatos, it felt odd to sit and not be doing anything. Lord Charon had told her to watch, but how long was she expected to watch him do the same thing over and over again? She was conscious that she stilled owed him a debt to pay off her passage. She was anxious to have it done so it would no longer be hanging over her head.
And then, as they neared the end of their second delivery, Lord Charon spoke a name that caught her attention: Kronos. Her own grandfather. The father of Lord Hades. She was far more interested in any mention of Lord Hades than for Kronos' connection to her. It seemed Lord Charon was teasing her, for he only mentioned the birth of Kronos before his story came to an end. She had to bite her tongue to keep from asking for more. For the first time she realized the great advantage here. She could learn about Lord Hades from one who was not afraid of him. The stories Artemis and Athena used to tell her were more in line of bogeyman tales than actual history. Whether or not they were true or only contained a kernel of truth, those stories served only to increase the fear surrounding Lord Hades. Lord Charon, she was sure, had a completely different version of history that was not focused on how terrifying the lord of the Underworld was.
She listened eagerly during their third crossing with souls, but there was no mention of Lord Hades. The ferryman spoke of the exploits of the titans before the gods were born. She thought he was drawing out the story on purpose, though there was never any awkwardness or repetition in his words. His eyes glittered with amusement as he watched her. She blushed that her interest was so obvious. But then, why shouldn't a guest take an interest in her host? So long as he didn't suspect it was a romantic interest, she was safe.
As they started across the river again, Lord Charon asked, "Do you have any questions about what to do? You'll be helping me pole across this time around."
A thousand questions crowded into her mind, but very few of them were pushing the boat. She forced the irrelevant ones from her mind, and asked, "How do you know where to go? I haven't seen any markers to guide you."
"Trust in the river," he replied. "The Styx will guide you."
She asked a couple more things about maneuvering the boat, until she was satisfied she could do it. She was excited but nervous to begin. The only thing she worried about was having the strength to push the boat along. Lord Charon made it look easy, but she was sure appearances were deceiving. Despite the rest she'd taken, her arms were still sore from both Lord Thanatos and Lady Hecate. They arrived at another crowd of specters. She stood with her hands on the pole while Lord Charon collected coins and loaded the boat.
He came back to her, and put his hands on the ole as well, on the outside of her. She wondered if he'd changed his mind about allowing her to guide the boat, but he nodded reassuringly. She took a deep breath and pushed hard against the pole. The boat didn't move. It didn't even rock a little. Was she really that weak? She strained hard, holding her breath. It wasn't until Lord Charon lent his strength that they stirred from the bank. She was mortified, but he smiled at her. He kept his hands on the pole as they got underway, and she found she needed his help for that as well.
The wood of the pole was thick and solid, too wide to get her hands fully around it. It was sodden from the waters of the Styx. She wasn't prepared for how heavy it was. She couldn't lift it without assistant, and needed Lord Charon to help her place it down again. In truth, he was doing most of the work. She was merely there with her hands on the wood, not contributing much if at all. Lord Charon didn't mind. He didn't mock her weakness as Lord Thanatos did, nor did he give sharp-voiced corrections as Lady Hecate had. She stood within arm's reach of him as she faced him across the bargepole. He was the first male besides Lord Hades that didn't make her anxious by his proximity.
Lord Charon was powerful. He commanded the spirits by the sound of his voice. He could be frightening if he chose to. But mostly, he seemed friendly and curious. He respected her, and was willing to give her a fair chance. She instinctively trusted him, much like Lord Hades. But where she felt drawn to Lord Hades, Lord Charon felt more like an older brother who protected her. He was nothing like her half-brothers through Zeus, who only saw her with desire. There was no interest in Lord Charon in that direction. That was how she was able to relax so quickly in his presence.
It took them a few minutes to learn to work together. Lord Charon made shorter, slower movements to accommodate for her smaller reach and lesser strength. She learned how to place the pole and push on it to move them along, though she doubted Lord Charon noticed her efforts at all. After they had developed a rhythm, he continued his story. She was more distracted now that she was working, but still listened as best she could. He still did not speak of Lord Hades. The stories of the titans were wide and varied, but she longed to hear about a more familiar figure.
Lord Charon continued to help her punt the boat across the river. She lost track of how many times they crossed with souls, each time hearing a little more about the titans. Listening helped distract her from fatigue as she worked. She was as stubborn here as she had been with Lady Hecate and Lord Thanatos. No matter how her arms and shoulders burned, she would not complain, and she would not quick. And then, as they drew near the end of yet another journey, Lord Charon's story became relevant again: Kronos overthrew Uranus, and was left with the prophesy that one day his own children would supplant him.
She looked up eagerly. Surely, even if the next story did not begin the titan war, the birth of the gods would be covered? They landed the boat. She rested as the spirits disembarked. When the last one was gone, she once more reached for the pole. Lord Charon made no move to help her. She gave him a blank look. Surely he didn't think she could do this by herself?
"Off you get, young Persephone," he told her.
"What?" she asked incredulously. He wanted her to leave now, when they were nearly at Lord Hades' story? Her body was sore and exhausted beyond all measure, but she was willing to put up with more to hear about Lord Hades.
"Surely there are more souls to bring across?" she pleaded.
"Certainly," Lord Charon agreed cheerfully. "There are always spirits to ferry. But I said I'd have you back in time for dinner. You've worked off your passage, and listened to me long enough." He moored the boat and got off, forcing her to follow. She tried to form some argument to stay longer, but her thoughts were wildly scattered. All she could think about was that if Lord Charon continued bringing the ghosts over through the night, by the time she came back here, she could have completely missed Lord Hades' story.
"I enjoyed you company," Lord Charon said. "I hope you come back soon."
"I like hearing your stories," she said, but didn't know how to broach her real desires.
"Thank you. I have thousands of them, so no single one ever gets tired. Every crossing I have a fresh audience to tell them to. I think it's important not to forget our past."
"Yes, it is," she agreed. "Uh, when you go back out again, do you know what you will be telling next?"
His face softened. "Don't worry, little goddess. I will remember where we left off at, and continue from there when I see you next. You'll not miss anything that you want to hear."
"Thank you," she said in relief. She started to turn away. Lord Charon opened the coin pouch at his belt and drew out a handful of the coins. She paused again, curiosity overcoming her.
"What do you do with the coins?" she asked.
"One more question, and you must go or I daresay Hades will have my head for keeping you from his company," Lord Charon laughed. He held up the coins in his hand. "These all came from the Underworld, didn't they?"
His voice was musing, not expecting an answer. "All the gems, the metals, even the bits of wood grow from the earth, and the shells from the minerals formed below the surface. In the end, all things come home again. I collect the coins… and I return them to the Underworld." He opened his fingers, letting the wealth drop to the ground. Instead of laying on top the soil, they were absorbed into it like water into dry earth.
"The wealth of the Underworld returns, to be harvested at a later time," he said prosaically, scattering more coins around him. He must have collected hundreds of them in the time she'd seen, but his coin pouch never looked full. Such a small bag could not have possibly contained all the money he pulled out now. She wondered if it was witchcraft like Lady Hecate, or a part of his power like Lord Thanatos' scythe.
She understood the act of returning the coins. They weren't really bits of currency once they came here. They were seeds, from which new mineral veins would grow. Even in these inanimate objects she found signs of life in the Underworld. The next time someone told her the Underworld was a dark, dead place, she was going to laugh in their face.
"Thank you, Lord Charon," she curtsied. Her body wobbled dangerously with her fatigue. She barely managed to straighten without collapsing. She was not looking forward to the long walk back to the palace, especially as she was not entirely sure of her direction.
"Persephone," Lord Charon stopped her. "I'll do you a favor if you do me one."
She faced him wearily. "What can I do for you?"
"I would have you call me Charon, no lords about it," he said. "I am not so formal as to demand it. In return, I will make your trip a good deal shorter." He tossed a coin in the air. As it flipped end over end, it began to grow larger and more transparent, until there was an irregular circle—the same shape as the coin—as large as a person. Through it she could see the front steps of the palace.
She gaped in astonishment. "Do all of you travel like this?" she asked. It was exactly like Lord Thanatos and his scythe-travel, only created by his own symbol: a coin.
"Yep," he grinned. "Hecate can show you how, if you want. So what do you say?"
She smiled at him. "Thank you, Charon."
Charon took her hand and helped her through the passageway without stepped through himself.
"Goodbye, Persephone," he called through the portal. "Come back soon. I have more stories to tell!"
Before she could reply, the circle shrank back to the size of a coin and disappeared. She laughed to herself.
"He does that on purpose," she shook her head, then glanced at the time. If she hurried, she had time for a hot soak before dinner.