“I recognize them,” he said after two awkward handshakes. Henry did a decent job of it, but Andie couldn’t figure out how to lace her fingers through his gnarled grip. “But they don’t recognize me.”
“They don’t have their old memories. But they know who they are.”
Hermes nudged Andie discreetly. She hadn’t blinked since they’d walked through the door.
“He’s kind of … handsome,” she whispered after Hephaestus turned his chair away and went down the hall with Henry. “I thought he was supposed to be an ugly god.”
“He is, I suppose. Ugly for a god. But all that meant on Olympus was that he had a club foot. And I wouldn’t mention that foot, if I were you.”
Andie made a face. “He was hot from the ankle up and you called him ugly? You guys are dicks.”
“Yes, that’s a real news flash.” Hermes took her by the arm and pulled her along. They walked a few steps behind as Hephaestus led them through the various hallways and connected rooms, giving them a tour of sorts. There was a story around every corner, some architectural tidbit or the tale of this or that chunk of worked metal. They walked, and he whirred, most of his attention on Henry.
“This feels like a maze,” Andie whispered. “If I lived here I’d have to mark my way with string.”
They paused at a set of stairs. But before anyone could look uncomfortable, Hephaestus maneuvered his chair toward the wall, and it engaged with a lift mechanism. And so the tour continued, until they reached the fourth floor.
“Just how many floors does this place have?” Hermes asked.
“Not nearly as many above as it does below,” Hephaestus answered. “Why? Are you getting tired?” He looked back jovially, but his smile faltered as Hermes wiped sweat from his brow. “Just a few more rooms.”
By the time they turned through the last, Hermes had begun to agree with Andie, who suspected that the house didn’t obey any physical laws. But then they walked through the last door, and Hermes found himself looking down on the large central room where he’d dined with Hephaestus on his first visit. It was lit with the same combination of fireplaces and lamps, giving the marble floor a parchment yellow glow.
“Here we are,” Hephaestus announced.
“Back to the center,” Hermes mused. “How do we get down? Is there lunch?”
Hephaestus chuckled. He took Henry by the arm and gestured up. Hermes looked as well. What he saw almost made his stomach drop into his shoes.
The Shield of Achilles was mounted to the center of the ceiling, where a skylight might normally be. Instead the metal caught only the barest reflection of light. To Henry and Andie, it probably looked like nothing more than a black circle. Only Hermes’ immortal eyes could detect the intricate detail work: the world laid out in each ring, from the constellations and cosmos to the vast ocean. And in between, cities and cattle and war. Farmers reaping their fields. Peace and strife.
“Is that real?” Hermes asked.
“Of course it is,” Hephaestus replied. “It’s my finest work. It was never lost. When the mortal world no longer required it, I took it back.” Hephaestus studied the shield and its housing with pride. “I mounted it there in one day.”
The shield sat in the middle of a system of steel girders, welded and arranged at angles so that they formed a latticework, similar to a spider web. The last of the girders attached to the wall just above their shoulders, and similar pieces attached to the doorway on the opposite side of the open room. No doubt Hephaestus had done all the welding and construction himself. To him, no skylight could have ever been more beautiful than this dark one, reflecting mellow orange flames.
“But now let’s go down to the main level.” Hephaestus moved his chair back into the twisting hallways. “And discuss a new shield.”
* * *
Inside the large, ground-level room, Hermes began to despair of scoring another gourmet lunch. He hadn’t seen a single servant since they’d arrived, and hadn’t heard anyone humming in any room that might be a kitchen. The air smelled like iron and faintly of sulfur. He walked the length of the room restlessly, half an ear cast toward whatever dull industrial story Hephaestus was telling Henry at the moment. Henry, to his credit, appeared enthralled. Andie just seemed bored. After the initial handshake, she’d been largely ignored. Hermes wondered why Hephaestus had even asked her to come.
Maybe he’ll get to her next. Or maybe he’s just too taken with Henry.