Dark Journey. Susan Krinard
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“It looks like someone forgot to give these people their share of the common wealth.”
Isis was appalled. Hera should never have let things come to such a state. She was the advocate here. Even though she kept her distance from humans, there was no excuse for her failing to care for her charges.
“I will speak to her at once,” Isis said.
“Speak to whom?” Daniel said, a grim set to his mouth.
“The sponsor who looks after this ward.”
“And who is that?”
Isis was very reluctant to name names, but she could not bring herself to withhold the information. “Hera,” she said. “Clearly, she has been neglecting—”
“Hera, Isis, Ishtar,” Daniel said, his forehead creased in thought. “Who are the others?”
A human boy appeared on the street, a boy of an age where he would soon move from the schoolroom to his chosen work. His clothes were slightly worn and ill-fitting, and when he saw Isis he stopped suddenly and stared as if she were taking Daniel’s blood right in front of him. His expression grew pinched, and he quickly disappeared around the corner of the nearest cross street. Other humans, some older, gathered nearby and gave Isis the same sullen, almost unfriendly stare. Many of them wore Hera’s peacock sigil somewhere on their shirts, though they clearly had no reason to thank her for their current circumstances.
One of the larger males moved toward Isis, and Daniel stepped between her and the human. He stared the man down, and he retreated, followed by the others.
Isis touched Daniel’s arm and led him back toward Bes’s ward. Daniel’s muscles were taut as if he wanted to resist her, perhaps even return and speak to the angry humans.
Hera, Isis thought, what have you done?
This would have to be brought to the Nine’s notice, regardless of Hera’s likely animosity. The others would see that she did not fail in her duty again.
But that would not erase Isis’s memory of the looks those poor people had given her. She could not remember the last time a human being had shown her even the slightest hostility.
“Why did they stare at you like that?” Daniel asked, echoing her thoughts.
Isis latched on to the first safe explanation that came to mind. “It is nearly time for the Games,” she said.
“The Games?”
“Twice a year the human wards hold competitions,” she said. “Did you notice the badges on some of the humans’ shirts and uniforms?”
“I noticed them. Peacocks.”
“Hera’s symbol. When the Games are near, many humans wear the emblems of the Elders to represent their teams.”
“Only humans?”
Isis glanced away. “There was a time when Opiri participated, competing among themselves. Now they only observe.”
“What kinds of competitions?” he asked.
“Racing, jumping, older games that humans remember from before the War.”
“No fighting? Wrestling, boxing, martial arts?”
“No!” She stared at him. “We do not condone violence.”
“Then those people were hostile toward you just because you represent an opposing team?”
“I have no team in the Games.”
“So you didn’t anticipate their attitude. You don’t understand it.”
His challenges came too thick and fast, and she answered carelessly. “It makes no sense to me. Unless they are angry with Hera, and project that anger onto—”
“Isis!”
She snapped out of her thoughts to find Bes gazing up at her and Daniel, a grin on his perpetually pleasant face.
“And who is this?” he asked, staring up at Daniel. “The man who entered Tanis so clandestinely? The dangerous invader?” He shivered dramatically. “Are you quite sure it’s safe to let such a monster run around loose, my dear Isis?”
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