Before dawn, Prometheus had transported the balloon fragments and all his companions across to the southeastern flank of Mount Ossa. A sea mist lay heavy across the Aegean, rolling off the sea and onto the mountain itself, cold and clammy.
Prometheus smiled. "Oceanus and his Oceanids have done their work well, Liz. Knowledge is a powerful tool."
"It's just upwelling," said Liz dismissively. "Deep cold water meets warm moist air."
Prometheus shook his head. "I will say it again. Knowledge is a powerful weapon. And out of the mist will come the balloons. To the Olympians they will rise out of the mist. They could just as easily have come across the sea from Lydia as from the slopes of Mount Ossa. Oceanus has sent his sons to fetch Aeolus, lord of the winds, to direct them. Now. To work, Magicians. To work! We have long hours ahead of us."
With the dawn, the first balloon rose out of the rose-tinted pearlescent mist. Halfway across the vale of Tempe, a thunderbolt from the high ramparts of Olympus struck it and it fell, burning.
But the next two were already on their way. All day long the thunder and destruction continued, until the red sun hung in the west like a balloon itself. . . .
"I don't know what the gods feel like, but I'm exhausted. Totally and utterly exhausted," said Liz.
Prometheus laughed. "Believe me. They feel far worse. Come. We will go back to the halls of the Titans. I will give you the draught of the Titans. Unlike ambrosia, it does not confer immortal life. But it does restore and refresh. Ambrosia makes the gods drunk."
Cruz was dirty, sweaty and tired. His face was covered in sooty smudges. "I could use the ambrosia myself," he muttered, wiping his hands on his trousers.
But the draught of the Titans was indeed refreshing. It reminded Jerry of coffee. The effect was similar, only more like espresso. Double espresso. Make that treble espresso. Actually, just-leave-out-the-water espresso. Jerry felt as if he might have to prop his eyelids shut if he ever wanted to sleep again.
By the time Cruz and McKenna reappeared, their hands and faces blackened, clothed in the darkest items they could find, Jerry was feeling as if he'd been transformed into a very wide-awake superball. He was ready to bounce off walls, never mind take on a mere frontal assault of Olympus.
Liz arrived, her face similarly blackened. She was carrying a short, bronze-bladed stabbing spear.
"What's the get-up for, Liz? We've still got to get everything across to the vale of Parnassus." Jerry was carefully tying bundles to the huge spider-silk-reinforced basket.
"I'm going in with the parachute party," she said calmly.
Cruz looked up from where he was coiling what looked like miles of fine line. "You can't come along with us, Liz!"
"Why not?"
"Because we're paratroopers. You're not."
Liz glared at him. "I have a parachute too, thanks to Arachne. I've jumped before. I even went for a test jump yesterday. Which, according to Smitar, is more than you two have done. Tossing rocks off a poor dragon."
Mac looked at Cruz. Anibal raised his eyes to heaven. "Look, Liz. This isn't a yuppie thrill-trip. It's a goddamn night jump! And when we get down we've got do the stuff we're trained to do."
"Stow it, Anibal," said Liz scornfully. "I stalk better than either of you. Our job is to get a line down into the vale of Parnassus so that the others, particularly the spiders, can get up there. Any 'commando' stuff, and the mission is history anyway. Because neither one of you is any more able to deal with gods than I am. And anyway, I promised Medea I'd look after you. Otherwise she won't let the dragons go."
"You're both crazy!" yelled Cruz angrily. "Listen to me, for God's sake. This is not a game for amateur skydivers."
Liz stayed calm. "It's a BASE jump, Anibal. From a stationary surface, not a plane. How many have you done?"
McKenna looked at Cruz. "We're not gonna win, you know. Arachne told me she wouldn't do the spider stuff either unless we took a minder. I tried telling her we'd be lot safer without, but she wouldn't accept that. She says . . . " He fell silent.
"Actually, guys," said Liz, "you can't stop me. One of the dragons will take me, whether you like it or not. So I don't see how you can stop me, short of tying me up, and I had a few words with Prometheus. You'd have to tie him up first. Seems someone said to him 'have lots of backup.' "
Anibal ground his teeth audibly. "Is anyone else going to jump? I thought the idea was to keep our drop as quiet as possible. Doesn't the loud lunatic dwarf want to come along too?"
Prometheus smiled. "Bes and Throttler have already gone. Throttler will drop Bes to the north. From that direction he can walk in to Olympus. It will be the most heavily guarded, of course. But Bes says he can move very stealthily."
Cruz groaned. "Like he does for eagles."
Jerry stared at Liz, biting his lip in frustration. Damn it. If he'd had a bit more time to think he'd have found a way to stop her.
Medea bustled in. She carried a large bowl, in which a mint-reeking salve lurked, and made occasional threatening gestures. She put it down on the table. "Here. Coat your weapons in this. It should make monsters, nymphs, and maybe even the gods sleep."
Jerry walked up to it, his heart doing trip-hammer imitations. He carefully coated his blade. "It doesn't hurt people, does it?" he asked calmly.
Medea shook her head. "No. It is harmless to those who are not of the blood of Cronus."
Liz had walked up with her short spear. As she bent forward over the bowl . . . Jerry pricked her forearm.
A droplet of blood welled up. Liz looked at it and then at him. "What the hell did you do that for?"
"Sorry."
Then her eyes narrowed. "Oho! You're a sneaky bastard! Does this stuff work on me, Medea?"
Medea shook her head. "No. I said so."
Liz grinned nastily at Jerry. "Nice try though, Jerry."
He shrugged. "I had to give it a go."
"Well, don't even think of trying it again!" she snapped. But her voice seemed very warm.
Jerry watched as they mounted the two dragons and rose in a slow spiral towards the moon. Scudding cloud obscured it and the parachute "brigade" was lost in the darkness. He felt his cheek. She'd given him a peck in parting. Forgiveness for his attempt to stop her going, as she said, and in case something went wrong. He shrugged. He wished like hell that he was a big handsome he-man. He wished he'd tried skydiving.
He turned to go back to the preparations for the frontal assault. The problem was a simple one. The icy, bleak heights of the mythological world's Olympus were too cold for the spiders. Yet Prometheus, who had been to the top, assured them that the dwelling place of the gods was not more than pleasantly cool. Somehow they had to get huge numbers of spiders up to the city of the gods.
Jerry was extremely glad he was not a spider. The basket would be bad enough.
Up in the silent darkness clinging to the harness on Smitar's back, Liz felt her bravado drain away. Still, it was too late now.
They continued the long slow spiral upwards. Her mouth was dry. It was going to be like doing a BASE jump in total darkness, and you'd have to be damn sure you hadn't tangled the risers. And there was no reserve chute . . . maybe she should have encouraged Jerry a bit more. He was a nice guy. The sort that wouldn't make a move without an invitation in triplicate. And she'd been brought up not to issue invitations.
Then below them in the darkness were the lights of Olympus. And the blessing of moonlight reflecting off the scudding clouds. She began carefully arranging her 'chute on the broad dragon back. Cruz and Mac could take it in turns to jump. The lights looked a long way down against the bulk of the mountain.
"Cruz fsayfs to wait for the cloud. Rendevoufs near the fsoutheafstern lightfs."
The cloud came. Taking that deep shaky breath, Liz jumped. The spider-web 'chute spiraled. She jerked frantically at the risers. Felt the 'chute bite air. She nearly broke a leg on the bruising landing. The only way out of the harness was slow, or cut. She cut.
Now she was loose, free at the top of Olympus in the pitch dark. She couldn't see the lights. She had no idea in which direction they lay. She'd been too busy anticipating the landing to pay attention to her bearings. Maybe there was something to all this military professionalism after all. Oh well. When in doubt, don't scream and shout, pick a direction and move out. . . .
It was easier said than done. The top of Olympus was rocky and confusing. And the moon remained obstinately cloud-hidden. Eventually she had the bright idea of climbing the highest rock. And then of course the moon came out from behind the clouds.
What Liz saw nearly made her sick. There must have been more wind than she had anticipated. She was right on the edge. If she'd chosen a different bearing, she'd have taken a shortcut down to the bottom of the mountain. And another few yards of wind speed and she'd have been parachuting down to the others. Maybe there was more to this than she'd opened her big yap about. The lights were back there.
Then she realized that she had made yet another mistake. Cruz and McKenna were each carrying at least a thousand yards of light spider-line. She wasn't. She was in a good position to get the line down, but she had no line. And maybe the other two had had similar problems. Maybe they'd gone over the edge. Maybe they'd landed in among the rocks. Broken legs or necks. Maybe their 'chutes had failed. Maybe . . . Liz felt very alone and very scared as she made her way towards the lights.
Fortunately Argus of the hundred eyes, the last watchman of the access to heaven, coughed. Otherwise he'd have seen her before she saw him. He was standing at the rendezvous. If the others were not on this side of him . . . They'd have to get past him somehow. And short of major rock-climbing there didn't seem to be a way.
Liz was not normally prey to indecision. She was now. Could she get close enough to stab, or should she try to throw that assegai, or—?
In the shelter of the rocks, Cruz took a careful bead. The sights on the half-assed crossbow were nearly as half-assed as the crossbow itself. It was just a bow set in a plank, really. With a groove to give the arrow a reasonably straight run, and a sort of curved fork at the end to provide a string-holder trigger. Even so, from this range he shouldn't miss.
He missed.
McKenna was already running in, his Gerber in his hand. Argus lunged forward. Liz's spear hit him in the shoulder instead of the spine. She, at least, had the sense to throw herself at his head and to grab his mouth. Cruz flung himself into the fray too. But Argus was a giant, and if he was of the blood of Cronus, he seemed immune to Medea's potions. And even three to one, with Cruz choking and being choked, it could have no happy ending. Liz, clinging to his head, was knocked off against a rock. The Giant got McKenna by one leg and Cruz by both arms with the other immense hand.
"Ha. Now you die," growled Argus. He was going to dash McKenna's brains out against the wall.
Then Bes arrived. The little hooligan ran straight up the giant as if he were a staircase, grabbed him by the ears and head-butted him. Mac fell free. Then Bes wrapped those bandy legs of his around the giant's throat. Argus wasn't going to be screaming for a while. Then, just when Bes had hauled out that evil-looking dagger of his, Argus stumbled. Nearly squashed the dwarf as he fell. He gave a bubbling snore, all hundred eyes closed.
McKenna picked himself up. "I'm gonna have to talk to that girlfriend of yours about how long it takes for her potions to work," he said quietly, flexing a bruised shoulder.
Bes grinned. "I don't approve of all these potions. Sport and drugs don't mix. Why did you start the fighting without me?"
Cruz took a deep breath. "Because we didn't know you were there. Come on. Let's get this big goon out of sight, and tied up, in case this shit wears off."
Spotting the target for the drop was easy. One tiny fire burned down in the folds of Olympus. Getting the cord down was less so. It was extremely light, and it had to be weighted. The weight kept getting stuck on ledges, and, by the sound of it, causing minor avalanches. But eventually there came a tug. It was a good thing Prometheus had said to secure the cord and themselves first. Only the Titan could have tugged that hard. After a minute they began to haul.
It was also a good thing there were four of them, and that Bes was one of those four. Spider-line is very light. But that was nearly nine hundred feet's worth. Liz was soon blessing the gloves she'd been given by the Colchian shepherds. The cord was run through the big wooden pulley and clipped by one of Mac's heavy iron (once steel) snap links, as a guide to the line that was coming up. Eventually, that reached the bottom and then obviously the Titan began to pull. Thicker line came up. And more. And then the pulley began to squeak as a real load came onto it. Cruz, swearing, muffled it as best he could. There was a lookout on the far pinnacle. Presumably the watcher was keeping an eye out for balloons, and it was three hundred yards away . . . and the rope line was in a groove out of his line of sight . . . but still.
The waiting had been the worst part. Jerry had never thought he'd be so grateful for a rock that nearly brained him. They all retreated hastily. It soon became obvious that the cord was not getting all the way down. Eventually, Throttler flew up and fetched it, from a good four hundred feet up.
"Anything that can go wrong, will," murmured Prometheus. Then he turned to the assembled group. "Who is in the basket first?"
"Me," said Jerry stepping forward.
"And me," said Arachne and Medea together.
"I must secure the tunnel," said Arachne.
"Right. Jerry and Arachne first," said Prometheus. "You see that you keep warm, Arachne."
They went up, unwinding the huge spool of spider-web tube. Every hundred feet or so Prometheus paused to allow Arachne to secure the tube with sticky threads. It was a sickening, bumpy process, as the basket dragged against the cliff wall. It all nearly ended in disaster, too.
They could see the summit. And the basket hooked. And Prometheus just kept on pulling. Somehow, as the basket tipped, Jerry managed to grab the remains of the spool while clinging to the handle. Then the basket sprang free, leaping on rope stretched at least twenty feet. Jerry lost his grip on the handle. And fell.
He landed back in the bouncing basket, with a pulse rate of about two hundred.
But there was worse to come. When they finally arrived at the top, there was Bes. McKenna. Cruz.
No Liz. Jerry's heart nearly stopped. "Wh—where's Liz?" he stammered out, his voice high-pitched.
"She's having a scout around," said Cruz. "Just back that way. Be careful. Bes found this interesting hole. We nearly lost him down it."
Jerry set off hastily and found Liz some thirty yards off. She was on hands and knees, peering at Bes' "interesting hole." Jerry restrained a strong and irrational inclination to kick her down it for frightening him so.
She looked up and smiled. He forgave her instantly. "I've solved the mystery of Olympus' pleasant climate. Feel the air coming out of there. It's a geothermal vent."
"They always say necessity is the mother of invention," he said cheerily, his heart full of lightness.
She groaned. "Jerry, I could kill you. Punning at this stage."
"Well, it was that or give you a hug," he said bravely.
"That's what I call unfair persuasion," she said, giving him the hug instead. "I must stink. Can't be nice to be near."
Jerry grinned. "The joys of civilization. Cigarettes, coffee and deodorant."
Liz grinned back. "I could use the last two. But do you know it's been nearly two whole weeks since I had a smoke?"
Bes wandered over. "The first spiders have come up."
Prometheus, he who had stolen fire from the gods and taught man its use, tended this fire with great care. It must produce an even, steady heat. Enough to inflate a long, tubular and insulated chimney. The little spider parachutists entered it in a steady stream higher up. Then with silken thread parachutes they drifted up to the heights of Olympus. The tube had been designed to retain heat. It was still a long, long way. And the balance between too much heat and too little was tricky. There were several million spiders to do the trip.
Up on the plateau the spiders, under Arachne's direction, began to weave silken coverlets for Athena. This particular piece of weaving showed in magnificent detail the ill doings, debaucheries and philanderings of the gods.
Athena wouldn't be tearing this one up in a hurry, though.
Throughout the marble halls of the gods, covers were spun. Soft as down. Strong as steel. It was all going according to plan . . .
Except for Hermes. The rest of Olympus might be sleeping off their labors against the balloon fleet, but Hermes was occupied in taking advantage of Poseidon's wife, Amphitrite. Free, those two could wreak havoc. Hermes was definitely part of the pyramid's schemes. And they were pursuing their pastime with godlike vigor and stamina, showing no sign of giving it a rest.
"We need to do something!" whispered Liz to Jerry.
"Uh. Film it and make a fortune in the porno industry. I didn't think that position was possible!" Jerry couldn't help staring.
She suppressed a snort. "I meant to capture them. Voyeur."
Jerry looked thoughtful. "Hmm. Arachne. Could your spiders sew a sort of bag or trap at the window? I could scare them into it."
Liz chuckled. "What? By saying boo?"
"More or less," he said. "Can you do it, Arachne?"
"My spider-sisters are already busy, Doc." She'd picked up her manner of address from McKenna.
"Right. Tell me when you're ready."
They didn't have long to wait. When it was ready Jerry started giving orders. "Cruz. You've got the deepest voice here. That's blue-eyed Amphitrite, wife of Poseidon, on the job there with Hermes. Poseidon is infamous for his bad temper. I want you to bellow 'Amphitrite' at the door."
"That'll never work, Doc!" protested Cruz.
"It will when I add Pan's panic spell to it," said Jerry calmly. "Just you watch."
Cruz shrugged. "All right. I wish like hell Prometheus was here. But he's got to deal with the guards on the way up."
"I did that!" growled Bes, in an injured tone.
"Great! So why did we risk our necks on spider-web parachutes?" demanded Mac.
The dwarf shrugged in his turn. "Well, Prometheus and I thought it was crazy. But you seemed so set on it that we didn't have the heart to stop you." Bes' tone was apologetic. "Anyway, Prometheus said something about you being 'backup.' "
"Here, dear. My sisters have brought Poseidon's trident. When Cruz calls out, stick that in through the doorway."
"Okay, on the count of three."
"One, two, three . . . AMPHITRITE!!!"
The result of Cruz's shout, coupled with Pan's spell, fulfilled all of Jerry's hopes.
Poseidon's reputation was particularly foul. Amphitrite shrieked. Hermes, assisted by panic, was not going to be caught. Clutching Amphitrite, he dove through the window. Into the spider-web bag. The sticky spider-web bag. Soon the two were safely bundled up.
Just then Prometheus arrived, slightly out of breath.
"Not having any trouble, are we? Everything gone according to plan?" He turned, pointing. "I brought us some company. This is Gaea's last child, Typhoeus."
Everyone tried not to flinch. Typhoeus made Medea's dragons look like earthworms. He had three heads and at least a hundred ever-working hands. Vipers sprouted from his back.
" 'Ullo," he croaked. "Seen that little bastard Zeus anywhere?"
"He's back there." Lamont pointed. "But don't you think you'd better deal with the watchman on the pinnacle? Sooner or later he'll come down. Spider webs can be cut, y'know."
Prometheus chuckled. "Very well. Will you guide us then, Lamont?"
Liz sighed. "Well . . . we should be able to get home. Did you see that Hermes was also wearing a pyramid pendant?"
"No. I didn't notice," admitted Jerry.
"Distracted, were you?" Liz teased.
"Um. The light was bad."
Liz pointed at the sky. "Well, it'll be morning soon. The moon is nearly down."
Something about that troubled Jerry. "It's a beautiful moon," he said.
"Don't you mean—romantic?" asked Liz mischievously.
Jerry slapped his forehead. "Selene!"
"Selene?"
"The moon goddess! She's out at night!"
And so she was, just touching down with her moon-bearing mule. Any moment now there was going to be trouble—as soon as she'd tied up her mule.
They watched in horror as Selene tied the mule to a post and then began walking towards the mansions of the gods.
"Get Prometheus! I'll distract her!" Liz darted forward. She pulled the huge white mule's reins free and leapt up onto its pannier, and thence its back. She dug her heels in, hard. "Giddyup!!!" she yelled.
The mule took off into the night sky like a venturi-less rocket.
Selene turned and shrieked, and took off through the sky after her mule and its clinging rider. The moon goddess normally flew across the sky, leading her mule. But even with her divine powers, Selene wasn't catching up with the wildly bucking animal.
Liz clung desperately to the saddle panniers. She could ride well. But there were no stirrups, and the mule paid no attention to her frantic hauling at the reins. It alternated between bucking and twisting with wild headlong gallops. They were also moving at a phenomenal speed. It felt as if the mule was doing its best to make up for the lack of a Concorde in this Ur-universe.