. ., " He lowered his voice, glancing toward the garden. "It
is a young lady whose beauty would adorn Olympus. I would have
you invite her to the Olympian Spring Ball. Not a bad task, eh."
Zeus nudged him with his elbow while keeping an eagle eye on
the garden. "Just let her know that the Gods look kindly upon
her, and that she will be the guest of honor. She can't possibly
refuse. Oh, by the way, her name is Medusa. Lovely girl, Medusa."
Now, what is the hitch? Zeus talks so kindly. Yet he is a wily
one. An invitation to a beautiful girl to attend a spring
festival? Why me? Would not an Olympian messenger, Mercury
perhaps, have served better. After all, I have no credentials.
So his thoughts rambled as he proceeded northward.
And I know not where she dwells, nor do I know her appearance.
A bleak stretch of land lay ahead. Empty, barren, dotted with
boulders it stretched well into the distance. At his pace it
would require a fourth of a day to traverse. He moved across the
open space cautiously, checking behind, to either side. He liked
not being in the open, exposed to eyes he could not see.
Surrounded by forest, the open area exposed him to the view of
foes who might wait among the trees. And in a strange land any
might be a foe. Wild animals certainly wandered here. And outlaw
bands who prey on lonesome travelers. He looked around more
carefully. Bushes and shrubs formed a narrow border, beyond
which giant evergreens loomed.
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