The sky had been pitch-black for hours. Medusa had stopped minding that she looked like a dragon; tonight, she was a social dragonfly. Her mind was full of more people’s stories than she could ever tell - but she was bursting to try.

  Her crew had forgotten to set a meeting time or place, assuming someone else in the group would figure it out. The best guess she’d had was the ballroom around mealtimes, but apparently food was served all over this place. No sign of them in here. Argos would’ve been obvious. Scanning the room, there were plenty of guys with Sisyphus’ haircut and long wedge of a beard, but most of them had shirts and trousers, not just a cape and a man-skirt.

  “Hi, have you seen a giant covered in eyeballs?” she asked a waiter in passing. His gait lurched to a stop, nearly dropping a steaming tray of steak and garnish. But he shook his head and moved on.

  “I’m getting tired of walking everywhere,” Medusa whined, clearly having wined her fair share tonight. Her upper half sagged as she leaned on Echo, who began to crumple under, well, anyone’s weight at all. “Why can’t there be horsey rides in herrrre?”

  Just a minute later, Echo sputtered suspiciously loudly for how thin her lips were. Medusa turned to face her incredulously. “Was that you, or did you hear something?”

  Echo squinted as she looked for the words. “((Hear something,))” she tried to explain. She curled her hands into hooves and padded them up and down. Then she dug back in her mind to see if she could quote all the way from a minute ago: “((...there be horsey rides in herrrre…))”

  “...Ah! Aha!” Medusa laughed as a delayed reaction. She held out a limp-wristed arm to be escorted away.

  They rounded the next corner to find a centaur pulling a mostly-empty polished cart of gourds and greens.

  “Hey! Hey you!” Medusa hailed him like a taxi.

  He gave her a nod and trotted closer to her before answering in an accent as syrupy and thick as molasses: “Hay is for peasant ponies. What can I do for you ladies?”

  “We’re looking for a big guy with eyeballs all over, and uh, two more regular-looking people. Uh, generic Greek guy in a cape and a man-skirt? And a tan-like-she’s-not-from-here girl with some beads in her braids, probably the least dressed-up person here?”

  “...I’m a grocer, not a spy network. But I might’ve seen your big guy around. Maybe a little loose change might just jog my memory.”

  Medusa crossed her arms over the purse-bag hidden in her dress. “I mean, either you remember or you don’t.”

  “I’ll throw in a ride.”

  Medusa’s hand thrust into the bag. Echo rushed in silently to stop her, but didn’t feel like arm-wrestling a drunk monster girl over it. The drunk monster girl tipped a drachma worth an entire day’s wages to the horse-man, who tucked into his stylish puffy pants - the front pair.

  “Hop on - the cart, not my back,” he emphasized. Medusa caught herself and change course to the cart, settling in between some curvy squashes. Echo squatted on her feet between them, like a bird not comfortable enough there to fully sit.

  He led them to the spiral ramp that wound up around a tree several stories tall, and into the rolling hills of the garden.

  “I was headed this way anyway,” he finished. “You’re welcome for the ride. Will you be paying for a ride to your rooms after this?”

  “Nah, we’re good,” Medusa murmured, realizing they could’ve just followed him here for free.

  “Suit yourselves,” he said with a shrug. “Then my shift ends right…now.” Then he unhooked the cart from his back and left them tumbling out in the garden.

  “What gives!” Medusa exclaimed, trying to clamber whichever way was up.

  “I’ve got job security - what can I say? It’s stable. Plus you seem like you’ll be too drunk to remember it.” With a swish of his ponytail and his pony tail, he was off, probably to the stables.

  “‘Too drunk to remember it,’” Medusa grumbled, hand-holding her way up the trellis to hold herself up like a vine. “I could recite The Odyssey right here and now if you asked me to. Dare me?”

  “((Dare me,))” Echo called her bluff, already standing.

  “...ahhhh shoot. In my defense, I couldn’t do that sober anyway.”

  They found Sisyphus passed out on a marble bench, where an oil painter tried to capture his likeness on a goatskin canvas, but was drooping with fatigue herself.

  “How did you know he was here?” asked Medusa.

  Echo played Medusa his snore from a distance. Then she knelt by his side and jostled his shoulder.

  “...jussa minute, honey, I got your breakfast in bed allllmost ready-” he gradually peered past the dream and focused his bleary eyes on her. “-uh. Hey Echo, how’s it goin.”

  Medusa mostly caught up with them by now. “‘Ey, I got us a room! Dionysus says it’s first-class.”

  “Like, his people market it thay way, or–”

  “He told me.”

  “You met the guy? And he’s already shellin’ out favors? I gotta stick more with you people tomorrow!” Sisyphus was on his feet and walking before his mind’s gyroscope could keep him upright. He skipped a few steps ahead so his feet could keep up with him.

  “Hold onnn-nuh! I’m not finished with you yet!” the painter fussed, wringing her hand with a paintbrush. The canvas had captured him from his sandals to somewhere near the bottom of his beard.

  “That’s what she said,” Sisyphus said on autopilot, barely aware he’d even thought it. “Wanna finish that up tomorrow?”

  “You literally just said you’re not coming back over here tomorrow! I am not gonna track you down just for this.”

  “I mean I didn’t literally say all of that, but, probably right.”

  Medusa tried to ply her off with an idea she was too tipsy to tell if it was good.

  “How about… someone else comes along, and you put their head on it? His torso looks flattering on most people.”

  The painter put the brush to her own lips thoughtfully, unconcerned with what chemicals paints were made with back then. “I could spin that…”

  But Sisyphus gave the canvas one quick tug and side-stepped out of her reach with it. “Actuallyyyy, I’m gonna hang onto this, cause it’s literally me. If I don’t see you again, I’ll finish it myself!”

  Droopy as she was, she struck the air with her paintbrush as if cracking a whip. “Sacrilege, I say! I should take this up with Apollo himself!”

  “Pretty sure the sun god’s got better things to do. Thanks for the vanity portrait!” Sisyphus led the crew a few steps ahead.

  “‘kay, that’s three of us,” Medusa counted, glad she had just enough members to fit on one hand right now. “You seen Argos & Arachne?”

  “...oh yeah, he was by the harp concert, but that was hours ago. He could be anywhere–”

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  That’s when they heard the deepest, loudest laugh they had ever heard. Echo’s eyelids rose so high they stretched her eyes open. She’d never heard him like that, but she’d recognize him anywhere. She practically skipped around the next hill to get to him.

  The dryad lay on her side in the lounge chair, one arm tangled in the grapevines looking for another bunch to feed him, the other drooping low to the earth. Argos lay propped up on one arm facing the other direction, as if to take in more of her, although most of his eyes already were; the rest stared blissfully off into the distance. The line of his grin now stretched so far that it nearly pushed his cheeks off his face. He pontificated to her, swaying at the shoulders with his speech, while bringing the next burgundy grape to the tip of her waiting smile.

  “That’s what I’m talking about!” he gushed to her; “people focused on meeting each others needs instead of just meeting their own! It creates a social entity greater than the sum of its parts! If enough other people did so, the lives of us servants to society wouldn’t be so… Look, there’s the fosters I was telling you about! Each under a hundred years old; they’re so innocent at that age. May you never lose that yourself. Ahoy there!” he finally turned from her just enough to shout not right at her. “There is someone I want you to meet! This is Mint!”

  Sisyphys kicked himself, literally from trying to jog drunk, and figuratively from not having even thought to ask her name. He’d only managed a few minutes with her; how did this walking-talking seminar manage to keep her for hours?

  Medusa was so tickled by the scene that her laugh came out more as a dry cough of surprise. “...All riiiiight! Way to goooo, big guy! Thought I’d find you editing a textbook, not - anyway, hi, I’m Medusa, just his travel-buddy. We usually all room together– just for safety’s sake– but Argos, you can stay out late tonight. I mean, this place is literally a fortress, so you can take the night off. I know you never sleep,” she ended, chuckling at the thought of giving Argos permission for a date night.

  “I believe you are right, Medusa,” he confirmed, his whole body inching closer to the seat like the warmth of a fire. “We have had so much to share in such short hours; I feel I could explore the universe from this seat–”

  “--Actually,” sighed Mint, “I ought to get going.” She sat herself up to leave, even as she seemed to pull towards Argos like a magnet.

  “Then we shall walk through the universe together–” he promised immediately, hurrying to his feet to offer her a hand up.

  But she held back his rising hand with the softest of fingertips. “I have to make the rounds tonight,” she explained herself, apologetically. “Part of the deal here. Can’t let one lucky guy get all my attention!” She tried to lighten things with a joke, but it just shook her voice.

  “...you…have to do this?” Argos labored through the words, afraid of it cheapening the night she’d just given him by making it be just work. “But you meant everything you said, I could feel it–”

  “I do!” she cut him off, as emotion rose audibly in her throat. “It’s rare I’ve ever gotten to talk anything like this, with anyone. Maybe a few people a year–” she caught the words and rushed in to rephrase herself. “This was special. And I don’t tell most people that.” As if pulling apart the tension between them like dough, she stepped backwards and away. She knew he could have followed her in half as many steps, but she seemed to trust him enough not to.

  “I will come back for you,” he promised her, as his hand fell back by his side. “If you will have me.”

  “I’d love to have you again,” she seemed to hum the words, her lips pinching shut with a smile to keep herself from dragging things out. “I’ll see you tomorrow…for lunch,” she offered.

  “Nothing else shall touch my lips but thee,” Argos exhaled the words.

  She nodded at him playfully, rolling her head and tumbling her curls one last time. Then she pivoted on the spot and wandered over the hills, her hair and her waist flicking to and fro with every step.

  Medusa eventually pried her eyes away to stare intensely at Echo, her eyes practically screaming ‘I know, right??’ Echo’s eyes weren’t as easy to read, but Medusa guessed she was vicariously impressed.

  “Ahem - welp, that’s that,” Sisyphus broke the silence with a voice like he’d just finished a gulp of dry wine. He hadn’t, but his face looked like it wanted to. “I’m ready to see what sleepin’ first-class looks like.”

  “After we get Arachne,” Medusa added, a little begrudgingly.

  “Aww, do we have to? She’s a big girl, she can find a corner to sleep in herself–”

  “We should check on her,” Argos decided for them, finally present with them again. “I shall escort you to your quarters and continue the search myself.”

  “Thanks, big guy,” Medusa exhaled. “I’ll take us there.” She didn’t let them know she knew to follow the blue carpet threads to get there; it felt better to lead like she knew something they didn’t.

  Downstairs and three hallways later, came a pair of guards defending a stack of fresh linens, and beyond that, a hall lined with blossoming willow branches, swaying in the breeze from windows on either end. The candles on their own small shelves glowed in a soft teal, as if easing their eyes closer to darkness.

  “Yes, I would like to retire for the evening,” Argos notified the guards, assuming there was some check-in process. “Argos Panoptes, son of–”

  “Codeword plush,” Medusa added slyly, satisfied to have an insider scoop.

  “Right this way, sir,” said the one with a quick stack of four blankets, seemingly too tired to process the name. The other guard murmured impressed to himself as he figured it out.

  “You lot were out late,” came Arachne’s voice from the hall behind them. She trotted to catch up from around the corner where she’d been waiting for them inconspiciously. “I assumed you’d made some plans to regroup at a time or a place and just hadn’t thought to tell me. Usually someone in the group is responsible for that.” She finished with a squint of judgment, as if telling Argos that she thought he knew better, and reminding Medusa that she didn’t.

  “Babe. Chill,” Medusa pushed back with sarcasm. “We are literally in a fortress! A pillow fort, really. I dunno the last place I felt this safe!”

  Arachne stayed at the back of the group, watching their flanks out of habit. The guard escorted them to their door, a polished sheet of scarlet wood and resin. He nudged the door open on silent hinges and ushered them in.

  The floor was half-carpet, half-throw-pillows. Curtains hung from the ceiling in arcs, some dividing the room, some just for show, tassels swaying at their presence. Fireflies as big as thumbs lit the room as bright as a candle, their glow growing like stirred coals as the door opened.

  “We'll see you in the morning,” the guard promised. “Breakfast in bed comes by at sunrise if you have your doors open. Otherwise, you'll find something served in every wing of the palace. We're open til tomorrow evening. Until then, live like there's no tomorrow.” He seemed like he said something like this often, but working in paradise hadn't lost all of its luster.

  Echo walked in, gazed wistfully at all the trimmings and trappings, and twirled. Medusa would've done something like that if Echo weren't taking up all the space.

  “I call the big pile!” Sis declared, darting for the heap several pillows thick on the far wall. Thunk. “Ahhhhh, that was on a wooden bench. Yeahhhhp. I'm okay,” he rasped. He didn't get up - from ache as much as from softness.

  Medusa sighed musically, sinking to her knees and pouring herself into the dozen pillows and a fresh warm blanket. “Ahhhhh, I just wanna fall asleep in these, but also wanna be awake to savor it!”

  “You seem taken care of here,” Argos observed. “I believe now I shall take my leave. There is much to be learned within these walls.”

  “Say hi to your muse for me!” Medusa called from the blankets as he left.

  The second he was gone, Arachne shoved the bar in place to lock the door. She glanced at every wall, as if looking for some sign the room might be bugged. She spoke in the hush of someone who felt like screaming inside. “I’ve had it up to here with this place. Half a day surrounded by spoiled playboys! I walked in on mayors gambling with their town’s budgets, just for kicks! And you know the one who won– even admitted he was keeping the winnings for himself. The way they talk about getting their hands on each other’s markets, it's like a war room plotting a hostile takeover! It’s bad enough hearing about this from the everyday people they leech all this money from - watching it get planned out up close is - just -” she made the face of the scream she wished she could make, mouth pinching shut in the middle while her canines flared.

  “Well, yeah, man,” Sisyphus said plainly. “That's how you move up in the world. Competition’s good for business.”

  “Competition?” She repeated the word like he had just handed her his ammunition. “These people are rigging the world! People who already have power get invited here, and get bribed into consolidating more power with the people who already have the most!”

  “You're saying ‘networking’ like it's a bad thing,” Medusa scoffed, sneering up from between the pillows. “Come on, don't be jealous. If someone offered all this to you, you'd take that chance–”

  “No!” Arachne snapped, her arms whipping down to her sides. She marched to the far corner of the room, the one spot without a single cushion underfoot. The room fell silent without her begging the subject. She looked out at the room for a minute, as if deciding what all this posh bedding meant to her. In the end, she curled up in the corner in only the shawl from her shoulders.

  Suit yourself, Medusa decided, just as glad to have let it go. She was promised to become the Goddess of her homeland of Seriphos. And she had a kingdom to dream of.

  Echo pointed over the next hill and walked over to it. She spotted someone and waved Medusa after her.