Dark and smoothflowing the river arose from pale mists in the
distance, and faded once more into mists as pale.
The sojourners moved slowly along the river's edge. One, a
white-bearded elder, shuffled along supported by wooden rod. The
other, younger and vigorous, darted ahead, returned, then darted
ahead again.
"I think I shall tie a string to your leg, as though you were a
June bug. Just calm down. There is no danger."
"For you, perhaps not. Still, I know he is here. I can feel his
presence. In every sojourn he has been with me."
"Ah, the unseen companion! Yes, I too note an irksome presence.
Nevertheless, nothing shall come of it this day. Trust me."
Demo glanced at the old man, Zeus. For it was indeed these two,
long removed from the heights of Olympus. "Trust you . . . ? I
knew this used chariot salesman once . . . Well, never mind."
He noted the look of concentration on Zeus' visage. "No real
correspondence. I was just thinking out loud."
Zeus regarded the river Styx with distaste.
"Most foul stream, this. I was in a vile mood when I loosed it
from the bowels of the earth. Unpleasant odor, too. Fetid, in
fact. Perhaps Pluto is right, a little landscaping and
environmental cleanup are needed. I'll make a note . . ."
"Beware, my lad, that you drink not of these waters. Though you
be of the most placid nature, but a sip from this stream and you
shall rant against the world. Here has the essence of hate been
distilled, and it flows forever at the edge of Hades.
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