I had often heard the story from Grandfather of how, when my grandmother Simmea discovered that he was the god Apollo, she had said, “Then that’s why you’re so awful at being a human being.” For the first time, I understood it.

I took a sip of my own wine. It was watered three to one, which was correct for a funeral, of course, but at that moment I could have done with something stronger.

“Why do you think he came now, and not before?” Dad asked. “The Olympians must know we’re here. Zeus put us here. And we’re worshipping them. Some of that must get through. But none of them have ever come before.”

“Except Athene,” I said, knowing Dad would know what I meant and that Porphyry and Aroo would think I was talking about the Relocation.

“Excuse me, do you believe gla to be one of your Olympian gods?” Aroo asked. (“Gla” was the special Saeli pronoun for divinity. I knew it because of the negotiations about temples. I’d never heard it in normal conversation before. The Saeli didn’t generally use it for Pytheas and his children.)

“Yes, that’s Hermes,” Dad replied.

The three of them had been moving through the crush and were now beside us. “Father, Aroo, Marsilia, this is Hermes,” Thetis said, beaming. He was lovely. Of course he was. He was a god. How could I not have guessed? I felt furious with myself.

We exchanged conventional wishes of joy, though my voice seemed choked in my throat. Hermes still showed no sign whatsoever of recognizing me. He did remarkably well at the Saeli sideways head-bow, which takes most people a long time to master. But then, he was a god. “I think you all know Jason?” Thee went on.

“Yes,” Aroo said, making the head-bow to Jason. “You are in charge of the boat where Marsilia and Hilfa work. Joy to you, Jason.”

“Joy to you, Aroo. And that’s right,” Jason said, making a creditable response to the head-bow. He’d been there the day Hilfa was trying to teach it to me. The memory of our shared laughter steadied me.

“So tell me about your gods?” Hermes asked Aroo, directly.

Aroo blinked her silvery inner eyelids across her eyes, and took a tiny step backwards. A tiny step was all she could take, because there was so little room, and now her back was to the wall. “We have four major religions,” she said, carefully, without unveiling her eyes. “Three of them have gods. Most of us here prefer the fourth.”

“But you’re not used to gods showing up at parties?” Hermes asked, and giggled. He couldn’t be drunk on that over-watered wine, unless he’d been here for a long time.

“Religion is for us a more private thing,” Aroo said, sounding very much like Hilfa now. “We do not have people enact the roles of gods, no, nor do we worship in public as part of civic life the way humans do. There are those who could instruct you, but I am not one of them.” She closed her eyes completely now, lowering the colored outer lids.

“But—” Hermes began.

“Enough,” Dad said, sternly. “You’re making Aroo uncomfortable, and she is a guest here.”

I wouldn’t have cared to refuse Dad when he spoke in that tone, but Hermes had another laughing objection on his lips when Aroo suddenly opened her eyes and fled, thrusting her empty cup at Porphyry and backing out through the door of the sleeping house and into the street. Porphyry took the cup, turned it in his hands with a strange gesture, then nodded to Hermes. “I see,” he said, at his most gnomic. Porphyry is my uncle, and I love him, but he can also be one of the most infuriatingly enigmatic people on the planet. “I will speak with you tomorrow.” Then he vanished, still holding the cup. Hermes kept smiling but did not speak.

At that moment, Alkippe came in from the garden and began wiggling her way across the room towards us. Hermes smiled over at the child as she approached, then paused. For the first time since I’d known him there was no smile twitching at the corners of his lips.

“Your daughter?” he asked Thetis, uncertainly.

“My niece. Your step-great-grandniece.” Thetis was smiling again, but Hermes still looked grave. I saw a family resemblance between him and Pytheas, not in feature, but in his expression as he looked down at Alkippe as she approached. I didn’t know what to do or say. I hadn’t imagined that he’d recognize his connection to her.

“Your daughter, I think,” Dad said. He sounded matter-of-fact about it. Jason’s eyebrows rose into his hair. Thee gasped.

“I think so too,” Hermes replied, not looking up from Alkippe, who had reached us. She hugged my legs, and I put down a hand to smooth her hair. Then she gave Thetis the same hug, looking up at Hermes wonderingly.

“Fate plays strange tricks sometimes,” he said. “What’s your name, little one?”

“Alkippe,” she said.

“A lovely name,” Hermes said. “And how old are you?”

“Seven and a half,” Alkippe said. “Why aren’t you wearing any clothes?”

Jason gave a bark of laughter, then choked it off.

“I’m more comfortable that way,” Hermes said, smoothly.

“But aren’t you cold? Outside I mean?” I could see the gap in her teeth as she spoke.

“No, I didn’t feel cold. I was flying and that kept me warm.”

“Oh.” She didn’t seem surprised at all. “You can fly, like Aunt Arete? You must be a god.”

“Yes, Alkippe, this is Hermes,” Thetis said.

“Hermes! Then you’re an Olympian? I’ve been to your temple. You’re different from how I imagined. Why are you here?”

Thetis took Alkippe’s hand. “I think Grandma has some quince paste left for us. Let’s go and see.”

“But I want to talk to Hermes,” Alkippe protested, not at all mollified by the thought of the treat.

“Later,” Hermes said. “I think I should speak to your mother now.”

“You should have spoken to her before,” Neleus said, as Thetis led Alkippe, still protesting vociferously, across the room. “It’s a bit late now.”

“You mistake me,” Hermes said, meeting my eyes for the first time. “I’ve never been on this wandering world before today. That is my daughter, true, but Necessity has caught me, for I have never met her mother until now. So I shall set this as straight as I may, but this is as early as I can begin it.”

It explained why he hadn’t recognized me, at least. “Never been here?” I asked. I don’t think I’d ever experienced so many conflicting emotions in such a short time.

“Your past encounter lies in my future,” Hermes confirmed.

I suppose this kind of thing happens to gods, but it was quite outside my experience. “Perhaps we should have this conversation somewhere quieter,” I suggested.

He looked at Dad, who was frowning. “But this is—well, yes. Let’s go outside.”

Jason put his hand on my arm. “Will you be all right on your own, Marsilia?”

“Yes,” I said, though I appreciated his offer. “Thank you.”

“Let her go,” Dad said, and Jason stepped back. I followed Hermes through the crush, which parted before us.

The fountain room was as full as the sleeping room, but there was nobody over ten in the garden. It was far too cold to linger out of doors unless you were young enough to hurtle around in a chasing game. Hermes turned to me as I was snicking my jacket closed. The clouds had parted and the winter stars shone clear and cold above us. Hermes didn’t seem to feel the cold at all, though he was naked. I was almost knocked over by two of my young cousins, who dashed past me racing to be first to slap their palms on the herm. Hermes looked at them wryly. “I take it I don’t have any other children here. That you know of?”

“Not that I know of, no,” I said, flustered by the question.

“Only Alkippe?” The hurtling children broke around us as a wave breaks on a rock, and re-formed on the other side of us.

“Yes.” The affirmation came out much too quietly. I felt slightly sick and a little lightheaded. I took a deep breath and swallowed, which helped.