"And you said your yiayia's name was what?"
Megara's head snapped back into the game. The coast was clear so far, but she'd had so much free time that Pain and Panic would be on her trail soon. "Klea," she repeated with the sweetest music she could force into her impatient voice. "The sweetest grandmother a girl could ask for. This vase has to be perfect for her. She loved horses."
Her grandmother had been Queen Hippodamia of Thebes, originally from Corinth. The most she'd ever invested in her children and grandchildren was selecting their nursery attendants. Megara had always learned that part of the reason had to do with an ancestor of hers who thought her children were better than Apollo and Artemis. The lesson subsequent generations learned was never to be too fond of one's children, or the gods would assassinate them. Suffice it to say, her grandmother had avoided a similar legacy.
"This is usually the sort of thing a head of household would handle," the potter said, painting the name slowly on the amphora. "Shouldn't you be at home preparing her for cremation? Are they about to force you to lug this thing all the way home?"
One of the first lessons anyone taught her at the Dionysian Academy had been how to feed the truth into your performance. The Delta Alpha Alpha had never steered her wrong yet, but she'd have to fake it this time.
"Not that it's any of your business," Megara snapped, "but everyone at home's too inconsolable. You would be, too, if you knew her. But they'll feel better when they see I've brought back the best funerary urn I could find."
The last time she'd gone hunting for just the right amphora, a centaur had made off with it. Despite her plans to go after it, she'd never tracked it down. This time, she was more or less certain Hercules wasn't a double-crossing scumbag.
"Seems like a lot of responsibility for a young lady."
"You know what? That's just because of how responsible I am. Lots of girls are married by my age, and nobody tells them how big of a responsibility that is. Is that urn about ready yet?" She cast another glance toward the window. No suspicious wildlife or oddly proportioned men with wild stares were glaring at her through it. She had some time, after all.
"And how'd you say you were paying for this?"
"Good Theban silver." Thank Zeus that people left coins at gravesites, or she'd never get anywhere. She set three coins down before the man.
He tested the silver coins between his fingers. "All right, little lady. I'll let you take this urn for three silver drachmae, but it's just 'cause you're so pretty."
Megara smiled her fakest smile and set both hands on the urn before he could change his mind. This vase had the right proportions to fit a scroll and close its lid. Someone had gotten the industrious idea to cover the vase with a woodland scene featuring a repeated pattern of flying horses over a forest. She could hope that Hercules would get the message. If he didn't, she'd get the urn for cheap.
"Do you have to hurry back to your family so soon?" the shopkeeper asked. He placed his hands over Megara's. "If you stay with me awhile, I might lower my price to two silver drachmae… You'll be in mourning for a while now that your grandmother is dead, but–"
Megara yanked herself and the amphora free of the man's hands. "I'm already in mourning. You probably should be, too. I think your self-respect just died." She stormed out of the shop without looking back, her face burning at the outrage.
This was the real reason families who cared about their daughters didn't send them out to run errands. She held the urn close to her chest, wishing she had a himation to disappear into.
She stopped between the shop and the graveyard to grab a gyro, which she ate while walking with the urn under her arm. The longer she went without any sign from the Underworld, the more she pushed her luck. She could eat in broad daylight near ordinary people. Nobody came to collect her, maybe because Hades didn't want witnesses when he chewed her out for being out too long or because he was still in that meeting with Zeus.
Pain and Panic would be amusing themselves, as well. They wouldn't find her unless Hades specifically told them to.
She crept back into the graveyard, past a collection of pale high schoolers dressed all in black.
"This is our spot, lady!" One of the girls shouted.
"Trust me; I'm not here to stop you from contemplating the cosmic joke of a city-state we were born into. I used to be one of you. Just a couple years ago, my spot was that bit of collapsed pillar."
She had to find a spot where Pegasus could land, somewhere easy for Hercules to spot. There were several memorials with overhanging roofs that she would typically shield something under, but she passed them up for greater visibility. At last, she nestled the amphora on its back beside a struggling rose bush. He may not recognize the design right away, but he would see that it was the only jar not standing up.
Why was she putting so much effort into this? Because she'd promised him? What kind of standard was that? She'd promised lots of things. But not to lonely, handsome young men with ridiculous muscles and gorgeous sapphire eyes.
"Malaka." She muttered to herself.
She was better than this.
A blast of smoke from behind her made Megara go cross-eyed with panic. She'd been expecting to play off the questions of Pain and Panic, not the boss himself!
The art students stopped what they were doing to yell, "Hades!" in surprise.
"Who'd you think would turn up when you played in a graveyard?" Hades asked them, momentarily leaving Megara to choke on his smoke. He shifted all his attention toward the students, asking, "How many of you would be interested in a work-study program?"
She had to think. He'd turn back to her any second. The students weren't giving him any material. He advised them to scram with a flare-up that covered him from his head to his arms. Once they were alone, he addressed his minion. "Gotta say, didn't expect you to wind up here, Meg. You're always complaining about the ol' aesthetic downstairs."
"I used to come here in high school. My idea was to keep notes on the people who visit the dead here and see if anyone is desperate to talk to you. Then maybe any years they agree to could be deleted from my life sentence?"
Hades raised his brow and gestured at the art students. "You think I could get as much mileage out of any of those freaks?"
"I thought you appreciated creativity and an ability to think on one's feet. Besides, getting here from the Underworld is easier than many other places. I could've done the observations."
Hades massaged his chin. "Fine. You're out for more of the day, but you'd better deliver."
"I will, especially if I can get someone to sign on to part of my sentence." What was she saying? This was starting to sound like…
"It's vicious, but it might work. I'm proud of you. You're a clever little misanthrope. But don't mess with these losers. You'll need some real high rollers."
"Don't tell Pain and Panic about this; they'll try to take over some of my ideas, but we both know they won't be capable of pulling it off."
"They wouldn't know what to do with any notes you wrote unless you plan on dumbing them down. I wouldn't worry about it. But you're right about one thing: if they catch on about your little private enterprise, the jealousy will get in the way. As long as you prove you know what you're doing, I'll keep them from ruining it. But if you can't bring anyone in, it shouldn't be a problem if they try."
She was doing this. She must be the scum of the earth, but she knew better than anyone that only the truly desperate would agree to this. They probably wouldn't even have a life, and they could help Meg get out. None of their sentences would be as long as hers.
"In the meantime, I've got a new, mandatory assignment for you. You should like this. It doesn't even involve any men. You've heard of Medusa, haven't you? She's a former employee of mine. I'd like you to go sell her on renewing her contract."
"You mean there are people who eventually get out of deals with you?"
"The stated goals of the deal were fulfilled; she just decided to walk away instead of asking me to maintain my generous transformation spell. I'm sure she'll tell ya how much she regrets how that played out, and she'll beg you to bring her back on."
"What happens if I'm petrified?"
"I'll see you fly into the Underworld and fix it. A slave like you is only born once a generation."
"Thanks," Megara said with a broad, toothy smile. "You really know how to flatter a girl."
"Y'know, if you had a better attitude, I might promote you instead of cutting you loose when your sentence is over. Think of it: I'd get you a swankier apartment, grant you some powers, and you could keep up all the good work you do."
"That's a tempting offer, but there's one thing holding me back. I can't stand you. Get me to this stupid island."