"That seems to be the case," Hermes said. "Who are you? Not a magician, that I'm sure of." He looked around. "And no king, because this is certainly no palace. You're some sort of commoner, aren't you?"
"I am a grain merchant," Westfall said.
"And how did you come by this amulet?"
"None of your business."
"Probably found it in your granny's attic!"
"It doesn't matter where I got it!" Westfall's fist tightened convulsively over the amulet.
"Take it easy!" Hermes said, wincing. "All right, that's better." Hermes took a deep breath and performed a small incantation to calm himself down. This was no time for rage, no matter how justified. This stupid mortal did indeed have power over him because of this ancient amulet. How had he gotten it? The fellow must have stolen it, because he obviously knew little or nothing about the Art.
"Master Westfall," Hermes said, "I acknowledge your power over me. I do indeed have to obey you.
Tell me what it is you want, and let us waste no further time."
"That's more like it," Westfall said. "First I want a sack of gold coins, fine minted and capable of being spent where and how I please. English, Spanish, or French coins will do nicely, but no Italian ones—they always clip the edges. I also want an Old English sheepdog, a pedigreed one like the King has. That'll do for a start, but I'll have more requests after that."
"As many as I want!" Westfall cried. "Because I've got the amulet!" He flourished it, and Hermes winced with pain.
"Not so hard! I'll get your stuff! Give me a day or two!" And so saying, Hermes disappeared.
Hermes had no difficulty putting together the items Westfall wanted. He kept bags and bags of gold coin in a cave under the Rhine, in the care of dwarfs who had been out of work since Gotterdammerung. The Old English sheepdog was no great trouble, either — Hermes easily kidnapped one from a kennel near Spottiswode. Then he returned to Westfall's chamber in York.
Chapter 5
Good dog. Now go lie in the corner," Westfall said. The half-grown Old English sheepdog looked at him and barked.
"He's not very well trained," Westfall said.
"Hey, you didn't say anything about him being trained," Hermes replied. "He's got a pedigree as long as your arm."
"He's a good-looking dog," Westfall acknowledged, "and the gold pieces are satisfactory." He had a mess of them in a small stout leather bag at his feet.
"I'm glad you're satisfied," Hermes said. "Now if you will just tell this amulet that you release me and that I am no longer in your power, we can each of us get on with our own business."
"Not so fast!" Westfall said. "I still have a number of wishes I want you to grant."
"But I'm busy!" Hermes complained.
"You must be patient. I'll need you around for a while longer, my dear Trismegistus, and if you do what I ask, after that I'll consider releasing you."
"That's not fair!" Hermes said. "I'm willing to grant you a wish or two out of respect for your ill-gotten talisman, but you're taking advantage of the situation."
"Magic is there to take advantage of people with," Westfall said.
"Don't press your luck," Hermes said. "You don't know what you're playing around with here."
"Enough of this talk," Westfall said. "Listen carefully, Hermes. Earlier, before I conjured you, the talisman gave me somebody else. A woman. A very beautiful woman. Do you know who I'm talking about?"
Hermes Trismegistus closed his eyes and concentrated. Then he opened his eyes again.
"My sense of postcognition tells me you conjured up one of God's angels, a former witch named Ylith."
"How did you know that?" Westfall asked.
"Second sight is one of my attributes," Hermes said. "If you'll release me, I'll teach you the way of it."
"Never mind. What I want is for you to bring that lady —Ylith, you called her? I want you to bring her to me."
"I don't care if she wants to or not," Westfall said. "The sight of her has inflamed my imagination. I want her."
"Ylith is going to love this," Hermes remarked aside. He knew she was a strong-minded lady who had been fighting for feminine spiritual equality in the cosmos long before the concept was even conceived of on Earth.
"She will have to get used to me," Westfall said. "I intend to possess that lady in all the ways a man may possess a maid."
"I can't make her agree to that," Hermes said. "There's a limit to my powers; they stop at having any influence over the feminine psyche."
"You don't have to make her agree to anything," Westfall said. "I'll do that myself. You merely have to put her in my power."
Hermes thought for a while, then said, "Westfall, I have to be frank with you. Possession of magic has overborne your good sense. This thing with Ylith is not a good idea. You're meddling with something here you don't want to get anywhere near."
"Be silent! Do as I say!" His eyes were wide and shining.
"Have it your own way," Hermes said, and he conjured himself out of there, marveling at the unerring way humans had of getting themselves into trouble. And he was beginning to see the glimmering of a plan that might bring benefit to himself and the other Olympians who were now cooped up in the unreal world known as Afterglow. But first he was going to have to procure Ylith for Westfall, and that might prove more than a little difficult.
Chapter 6
Hermes took himself to one of his favorite places, an old shrine on the Aegean island of Delos that had been dedicated to his worship for some thousands of years. Here he sat down and, looking over the wine-dark sea, considered his situation.
Although he was one of the original twelve Olympians, Hermes hadn't suffered the fate of the other gods when the entire Greek thing collapsed shortly after the death of Alexander the Great and the birth of superstitious rationalism in Byzantium. The other gods hadn't been able to fit into the new world that came into being with Hellenistic times, and when the new religion came along, they hadn't stood a chance.
Their worshipers all abandoned them; they were declared not to exist, and were forced to lead a shadowy existence in the realm called Afterglow. Afterglow was a dreary place, almost exactly like the ancient Greek underworld. Hermes was glad he didn't have to live there.
Hermes was held over from the ancient Greek world because of his long association with magic. From early times he had been active in the conjuring arts, and a body of lore had sprung up that was attributed to his inspiration. The Corpus Hermeticum, ascribed to Cornelius Agrippa and others, had become the soul of Renaissance magic; Hermes was its presiding deity.
He had proven useful to mankind in other ways, too.
He was basically a friendly god, more approachable than most. Over the years he had entered into discussions with many human magicians, all of whom had conjured him with respect. But this was the first time anyone had ever conjured him by force, causing him to obey whether he wanted to or not. He didn't like it. Trouble was, he didn't know quite what to do about it.
He was brooding over this, sitting under a great oak tree and looking out to sea, when he heard a soft, whispering sound. He listened more carefully. A voice was saying to him, "My boy, what seems to be the trouble?"
Hermes said, "Zeus, is that you?"
"Yes, it's me," Zeus said, "but only as a ghostly essence. The real me is in Afterglow, where all the rest of us were banished. All except you, of course."
"It wasn't my fault they carried me over as Hermes Trismegistus," Hermes said.
"No one is blaming you, my son. Just stating a fact."
"I don't understand how you can be here at all," Hermes said. "Even as a ghostly essence."
"I have a special dispensation. I can manifest my essence wherever oak trees flourish, and that's not bad, given the circumstances I'm in nowadays and the prevalence of oaks. Something seems to be troubling you. What is it, Hermes? You can tell your old dad."