Steeds of the Gods #3

Demon first found out about his latest Important Visitor when he heard Melanie the naiad shriek. He dropped his shovel in the poo barrow and rushed over to the spring outside the Stables of the Gods to see what was happening. Melanie stood shivering and curtsying at the side of her spring, her long blue hair streaming down her back. In the middle of the water stood a huge bearded figure wearing a crown of jeweled seashells. He held a large golden trident in his left hand.

“Pah!” he spat, wringing out his robes and striding up to Demon. “Freshwater. Mimsy-flimsy stuff. Give me a pool of salty sea brine any day.”

Demon’s heart sank into his sandals as he bowed low. An early morning visit from a god was never good news—and this was Zeus’s own brother. What could Poseidon, god of the sea, want with him at this hour?

“How can I help you, Your Watery Wondrousness?” he asked.

“Ha!” said Poseidon, bringing his hand down on Demon’s shoulder so hard, the young boy fell on his backside in the dust. “Watery Wondrousness. I like it. Up you get, now, stable boy. I need to talk to you.” He reached down and offered a hand wearing a glove that seemed to be made of sapphires the size and shape of barnacles. Demon took the hand cautiously. It felt cold and rather wet, and the jewel barnacles scraped his fingers, but he didn’t say anything. It was best not to with gods. They took offense very easily, he’d found, and that could lead to Bad Things.

Poseidon was looking around him. The nine green heads of Doris the Hydra were peering shyly around the Stables’ door, long eyelashes fluttering. Demon could see the griffin lurking behind them.

“That the beastie you cured for Hera?” the god asked. “Looks pretty healthy to me.”

“Yes, Your Serene Saltiness,” said Demon. “It helps me out around the Stables now.” Doris fluttered its eighteen sets of eyelashes and rattled its buckets.

“Snackies?” Doris asked hopefully. Demon ignored it. He’d only just cured its bellyache from eating too much ambrosia cake, and he wasn’t risking a repeat.

“Show me around, stable boy,” said Poseidon.

Demon took the god up and down the stalls. He warned him politely not to poke at the giant scorpion with the pointy end of his trident, and explained about the Cattle of the Sun not being able to eat ambrosia cake because of the terrible gas it gave them. By the time they’d almost finished, Demon was feeling a bit more optimistic. Poseidon seemed much friendlier than the scary Hera, and a lot nicer than sinister Hades. Demon shivered, remembering his recent trip down to the Underworld to save the life of Hades’s great beastdog, Cerberus. He’d only just escaped being eaten by the King of Death’s skeleton dragons, thanks to the help of Hermes, the gods’ chief messenger. Stopping at the last pen, he gestured at the creatures within.

“These are the Ethiopian winged horses, Your Royal Godnificence,” he said, patting the shiny golden horns in the middle of the boss horse’s forehead. “I fly out on Keith here most days—they need a lot of exercise to keep their wings strong.” Keith neighed enthusiastically.

“What do you know of Hippocamps, stable boy?” Poseidon asked abruptly. Demon racked his brain. Hippocamps? What in the name of Zeus’s toenails were they?

“I-I-I’ve never met one, Your Outstanding Oceanosity,” he said.

“No. I suppose you wouldn’t have. I don’t bring them up here much—no proper seawater, you see.” He clapped his hands together. “You’ll just have to come back to the Stables of the Ocean with me and examine them. Their scales are all falling off, and none of my sea people seem to know why.” Demon gulped and turned pale. He didn’t know what to do. How could he leave his own Stables again? If there was no one to clean them out and look after the beasts, the whole of Olympus would smell of poo. Then the goddesses would get furious and turn him into one big Demon-size pile of ash. Poseidon frowned, his shaggy eyebrows throwing off silvery-green sparks.

“You don’t seem very happy, stable boy,” he growled. The atmosphere in the Stables had suddenly become heavy and close, as if a big thunderstorm was coming. The winged horses whinnied in alarm as gusts of wind began to whip the dust up into mini-tornadoes. Demon hurriedly forced a smile onto his face. He should have known that Poseidon’s nice mood was too good to last.

“N-no, n-no, Your Awesome Aquaticness. I-I-I was just w-wondering what medicines to bring. I-I’ll go and fetch my box immediately.”

“Very well,” said Poseidon, his frown disappearing as suddenly as it had come. “I’ll go and visit with my brother Zeus. I have a small matter I need to discuss with him. Be ready when I return.” With a swish and a swirl of his still-dripping cloak, he left the Stables, depositing a small pile of flapping fish and a large, angry lobster at Demon’s feet. The boy leaped out of reach of the lobster’s clacking claws and ran for the hospital shed. The griffin, after it had gobbled up the fish, loped after him on its lion’s feet.

“Dearie me, Pan’s scrawny kid,” it sniggered, when it had caught up with him. “Looks like you’re in trouble, whichever way you jump.”

“I know,” Demon panted as he ran. “What am I going to DO, Griffin? I can’t just leave all of you on your own again. Look what happened with Doris last time. And what do I do if he keeps me down there for ages? Aphrodite will probably turn me into a pile of burnt rose petals if her nighties start to smell of poo again.”

“We-e-e-ll,” said the griffin slowly, “I suppose the Nemean Lion and I could make sure Doris cleans out the stables and doesn’t eat all the ambrosia cake again. Lion’s been a bit depressed since you gave it that fluffy green skin. It’ll cheer it up no end to have a job to do.”

“Would you really?” asked Demon as he skidded to a halt in front of the hospital shed. “I don’t think it’ll take very long. I’ll be back in a day or so, I swear.” The griffin looked at him slyly out of the corner of its orange eye.

“If you’ll promise to give me meat at least once a week when you get back,” it said. “Otherwise the deal’s off.” Demon groaned. Meat was really hard to come by on Olympus, unless it was a feast day. But he didn’t really have a choice. He’d think about how to get around the griffin’s request when he got back. If Poseidon hadn’t turned him into a Demon-shaped coral reef by then, of course.

“All RIGHT!” he said crossly. “But you have to do the job properly. I don’t want to find a piece of hay out of place or a single speck of dust in any of the stalls. And I especially don’t want to find Doris sick again. Understand?”

“Trust me, Pan’s scrawny kid,” it said, giving Demon a sideways orange wink that made it look most UNtrustworthy. Then it flapped its eagle wings once and soared up to sit on the rooftop. “Better hurry up,” it called down. “I see old Fishface coming out of Zeus’s palace. He doesn’t look in a very good mood.”

Demon’s magical medicine box didn’t turn out to be in a very good mood, either, when he told it they were going to Poseidon’s realm. He could hear it grumbling behind him as it waddled its way toward the Stables on its short, stumpy legs.

“Shut up, box,” Demon hissed as he saw Poseidon in the distance. “You’ll get us into trouble.”

“Implementing aquasynchrous marine interface,” it muttered. “As for you, I hope you get Error Code 7533 and turn into a sea cucumber.” It withdrew its legs and thumped down beside him, ejecting a kind of see-through skin from its sides, which spread over its whole surface, sealing it completely. Demon stared at it. How was he supposed to open it now? But he had no time to think about that, because Poseidon was stomping toward him, muttering to himself. The air became thick and still again, and there was a strong smell of ozone.