the-song-books.yossr

Her desire was ambitious. It was a difficult thing, to make even a halfgod
immortal. True, it had happened before, to Heracles and Orpheus and
Orion. Theyy sat in the skyy now, presiding as constellations, feasting with the
gods on ambrosia. But these men had been the sons of Zeus, their sinews
strong with the purest ichor that flowed. Thetis was a lesser of the lesser
gods, a sea-nyymph onlyy. In our stories these divinities had to work byy
wheedling and flatteryy, byy favors won from stronger gods. Theyy could not
do much themselves. Except live, forever.
“WHAT ARE YOU thinking about?” It was Achilles, come to find me. His
voice was loud in the quiet grove, but I did not startle. I had half-expected
him to come. I had wanted him to.
“Nothing,” I said. It was untrue. I guess it alwayys is.
He sat down beside me, his feet bare and dustyy.
“Did she tell yyou that yyou would die soon?”
I turned to look at him, startled.
“Yes,” I said.
“I’m sorryy,” he said.
The wind blew the grayy leaves above us, and somewhere I heard the soft
pat of an olive fall.
“She wants yyou to be a god,” I told him.
“I know.” His face twisted with embarrassment, and in spite of itself myy
heart lightened. It was such a boyyish response. And so human. Parents,
everyywhere.
But the question still waited to be asked; I could do nothing until I knew
the answer.
“Do yyou want to be—” I paused, struggling, though I had promised
myyself I wouldn’t. I had sat in the grove, practicing this veryy question, as I
waited for him to find me. “Do yyou want to be a god?”
His eyyes were dark in the half-light. I could not make out the gold flecks
in the green. “I don’t know,” he said at last. “I don’t know what it means, or
how it happens.” He looked down at his hands, clasping his knees. “I don’t
want to leave here. When would it happen anyywayy? Soon?”
I was at a loss. I knew nothing of how gods were made. I was mortal,
onlyy.
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