“Ah… I suppose I could.” He looked at his feet with a frown and rubbed the back of his neck. He took a deep breath, looked up, and plastered on his own smile, thrusting a hand out toward her. “Eschelus, son of Caemon. Nice to meet you miss…”
She grinned and took his offered hand. “Calliope. Just Calliope.”
“Like the muse? Do you sing?”
“Yes. Just like that. And no, I don’t.”
His smile turned lopsided and he flushed. “You hear that a lot don’t you.”
“You have no idea…. and before you ask, my skill with the lyra is only fair to middling. Unfortunate really.”
“Well… if you tend sheep you should at least be handy with the pipes, yes?”
“When sheep fly my friend.”
%%%%%
Calliope returned to the cavern in one of the better moods she’d ever been in. Not only had her new acquaintance agreed to watch the flock, but even offered to teach her to sheer the little beasties when she returned. She’d learned to wash and pull and spin the yarn from her mother, essentially everything which came after the sheering, but not that vital step of actually getting the stuff off the sheep in the first place. Once she did she could create a new source of income… one that didn’t involve sacrifices.
Of course she hadn’t mentioned the idea to anyone yet, as she was hoping to put it to work first, to make sure it was really and truly a profitable course… but she was hopeful. Thelios didn’t seem to care where his money came from, and if it meant not having to deal with people, which seemed his preference, then so much the better. Right?
Maybe. She was still cautious, and even though he treated her well and was amused by a little playful insubordination from time to time… her position was still that of a slave, and she was not anxious for that first moment where she crossed the invisible line and overstepped her bounds.
The fact was, she liked pleasing him. It wasn’t hard, and he tended to please right back. The thought of angering or disappointing him didn’t sit terribly well with her, and it was not fear that drove that desire or fueled her anxiety. Not of him at any rate. The thought of him really hurting her… maliciously and intentionally was, well, unthinkable.
Her thoughts dampened her mood slightly, but only until she saw Demitri hauling a chest into the caverns entrance and was reminded of the trip they would shortly be taking. Nerves warred with excitement as her mind began envisioning the wondrous sights she might soon see. Where were they going? Who or what would she see?
“Hey. You packed yet?” Demitri called gruffly, pulling her from her distraction.
“Ah, yes, mostly.”
“Well hurry up, I want to get everything together as soon as we can. I don’t intend to be tapping my toes while you scurry around looking for jewelry or shoes.”
She arched a brow at him. “Demitri, do I honestly seem like the sort of woman who scurries or worries about what jewels she should wear?” She frowned as another thought followed on the heels of the last. “Can I ask you something?” He shrugged which she had learned to translate as permission. “He told me to dress nicely, but not to wear the gold dress… do you know what he might have been getting at?”
“Hell if I know.” He paused though, rethinking the obviously instinctive answer. “Well… no, I don’t know. Sounds like he don’t want you showing off too much though. Too much skin or whatever. Makes sense. I was only half joking when I told that fellow you liked so much that he was a jealous sort. Doesn’t happen often, but he can get possessive… and I imagine it’d be more so with you than with nick-knacks. So… he meant just what he said I imagine. ”
She frowned. “He wouldn’t be expected to … share… would he?”
“If you’re asking if he’d pass you around, I sincerely doubt it. And besides, whether they expect something or not doesn’t hold too much water for him. In my experience, he could give a damn what the others want or expect of him. You’ll see what I mean.” He smirked. “He tends to rub them the wrong way, and I suspect he does it on purpose just for the pleasure of watching them squirm.”
“Well that’s not very polite.”
He chuckled. “No darlin’, I don’t expect it is. And I’m sure he’s quite fine with that.”
“So. Nice clothes, no skin… should I keep to myself?”
“Probably… but it don’t matter too much. I suspect that so long as you don’t do anything foolish… which I know you’re not inclined to anyway, then you’ll be just fine. There isn’t much to this really. Don’t be surprised if the whole experience is a bit of a let down. Or maybe not. You might find it alright, but those people don’t really do it for me, you know? One or two of the regular type servants aren’t bad… but those women…”
Now her curiosity was really peaked. The infamous women… the fabled nymphs… her stomach twisted uncomfortably. “What about them?”
“Remember what you said about women being ‘protectors of the status quo?'” She started, then smiled at the remembrance, then laughed.
“I can’t believe you remember that.”
“Yeah, well… remember my answer to it?” She flushed and chuckled.
“How could I forget.”
“Well… they’re pretty much just that.”
She cleared her throat. “Judging…”
“–Bitches.”
“Right.” the twisting in her stomach settled into something like a nauseating lump and she sighed. “Sounds delightful.”
The trip thus far had been uneventful. Painfully uneventful.
The first day was beautiful. The sky was clear, the seas placid, and the breeze gentle. Nothing but gleaming azure for as far as the eye could see, and it was all that could be seen once the land had become nothing but a distant gray shadow.
The second verse was much the same as the first… and the third… and fourth…
To be fair they did come across islands, and distant shores could be spotted, but they never went close enough for them to be anything more than green-gray masses of non-sea and thus broke up the monotony in only the most nominal of ways.
That, she admitted looking out over the rail of the small ship and down into the hypnotic swelling and falling of the undulating waters, wouldn’t really be that bad if the men weren’t avoiding her like she were some sort of plague carrier. She cast a glance over her shoulder to where the handful of crew were sitting and chatting while ladling out food and flat bread from a small clay oven. The few eyes that had been turned in her direction snapped immediately away, causing her to sigh and gnaw absently at the inside of her bottom lip. No one was rude, but any attempt to engage them was met with one word answers and pardons as the engagee made their escape. So she stopped trying.