CHAPTER 3

The door to Belial's office burst open. Belial gave a jump of startlement. The fat, toad-bodied demon with the blue-gray complexion and the bulging orange eyes had been gazing into a mirror of illusion, lost in contemplation of his own cleverness and beauty, since in hell self-love replaces self-respect, and he hadn't heard the knock. In strode two brawny figures in pleated white kilts and tunics.

"Who are you people?"

"I am Odysseus," Odysseus said, "and this is Achilles."

"Achilles and Odysseus," Belial said. "I've heard about you, of course, but I never expected to actually see you."

"They don't let us out of Tartaros," Odysseus said. "We were too strong for them once. Now they won't permit us any manifestation except the archetypal one, which doesn't affect us anyway except in the form of publicity."

"Oh, really. Too bad! It's a pity that you're not real. Some of our younger devils would enjoy hearing a lecture or breakfast meeting discussion with you. I'm sure you could teach us a great deal that would be useful."

"We can discuss that some other time," Odysseus said. "A lecture tour is not completely out of the question. But now I'm here speaking on behalf of my friend, Achilles. A wrong has been done to him by one of your people."

"You're representing Achilles, eh? Can't he speak for himself?"

"Of course I can," Achilles said, piping up abruptly. "The trouble is, my speech is impetuous, like my nature. I tend to speak hastily and get myself into weird situations. They often end up in a fight, which I win, of course. But people don't usually like me. Everyone likes Odysseus, though."

"That's enough, Achilles," Odysseus said. "Remember, I was going to do all the talking."

"Sorry, Odysseus," Achilles said.

"That's all right. If I am well liked it's because I'm sort of a demigod, interested in customs and ways, unlike you, Achilles, who thinks of nothing but war and killing."

"I sure wish I could kill something now," Achilles said. "I'm nervous."

"Calm yourself," Odysseus said. He turned again to Belial. "We have it on good authority that a demon of your command named Azzie captured one of our people, Helen of Troy, grabbed her out of Hades and away from her husband without so much as a by-your-leave. He gave her to a magician named Faust, who is having her engage in un-Greek adventures."

"This surely can't be true," Belial said. "We servants of Darkness don't just grab dead people without their permission."

"Perhaps you should check on it," Odysseus said.

"Indeed I will." Belial pressed a button on his intercom. "Miss Siggs?"

"Yes, Your Excellency."

"Did you listen in on this conversation?"

"Well, sort of, but it was purely accidental."

"Never mind. Check into it and get back to me at once."

"I don't have to check, Your Excellency. What those Greeks say is quite true. People are already making up stories about Azzie's abduction of Helen. It ought to make a very popular myth."

"But damn it, he had no authorization to take her! There are rules, you know!"

"Yes, Your Excellency. But no one seems to know quite what they are."

"It's clear enough in this case," Belial said, for he was not about to give up an opportunity to get even with Azzie, who had been rude to him several times in self-criticism meetings.

He shut off the intercom and turned to Odysseus and Achilles. "There seems to be some basis to your claim. I had nothing to do with it myself, however, and there's nothing I can do about it. You'd better talk to Mephistopheles, or to Azzie himself."

"Where do we find them?" Achilles asked.

"Actually, right now they're both busy with the contest."

"What contest?"

"It is the great Millennial contest between Dark and Light to decide who will rule mankind for the next thousand years."

"What does Helen have to do with all that?" Odysseus asked.

"I believe Azzie seized her to give to Faust as a prize."

Achilles suddenly said, "We don't want any more talk. We want Helen back!"

"Yes, that's right," Odysseus said. "That's the bottom line."

"My dear fellow," Belial said, "I understand your position. But what can I do?"

"Let us go do something ourselves," Odysseus said. "We don't need your help to rescue Helen."

"You're fine upstanding fellows," Belial said. "But you have no power in this construct."

"Perhaps not. But we have some important friends."

"And who might they be?"

Odysseus laid a finger along the side of his nose in a gesture of caution. "Don't speak their names unless you want them in the office here with you."

Then Belial got it. Odysseus was talking about the Eumenides! Also know as Erinnyes, and as Furies! Some of those ancient constructs still had power, like Ananke herself. Belial decided this was not a good line for him to pursue.

"If you think you can handle it," Belial said, "you go right ahead. You've got my permission." He frowned. "I don't want to seem critical, but you two don't have much in the way of bodies."

"This is the best we could do," Odysseus said. "We're dead, you know."

Tell you what," Belial said. "Here are two free passes to the Witches' Kitchen. Tell them to fix you up with bodies. Not all of us in Hell are as bad as some I could name."

The hulking Arabian demon who stood guard at the door had seen some strange sights in his years of working at the Witches' Kitchen. But this was the first time this flabby, sloe-eyed, former citizen of Gehenna had seen two Greek heroes straight out of Homer come walking into his beauty salon. The demon knew at once who they were, because he had been a classical scholar before becoming doorman to an afterlife beautification service.

"We never had any Greek heroes in before," he muttered. "Do you spirits have a certificate of reality?"

Odysseus showed the certificate of temporary reality which Dis had given them. The senior witch put down her branding iron and came over and looked at the certificate, and at the passes Belial had given the heroes.

She said, "It's all right, Tony, let them in."

In the corporealizing treatment that followed, the big question was how much heroic musculature to give them. The witches decided not to go in too heavy for bulk, since speed and agility were necessary in most demigodlike pursuits.

Several hours later, Achilles and Odysseus finished the beauty treatment that made them men again. They had used another spell from Odysseus' horsehide bag to take them back to Earth. They were resting under a tree now, not entirely sure of their exact whereabouts. But that didn't worry them. They had brought several days' provisions with them from the Witches' Kitchen. At least, it should have lasted for several days. But overcome by the novelty of corporeal food again, they had devoured it all for lunch.

After dreaming about food for all those centuries, they hadn't known when to stop.

"I'm full," Achilles said.

"Me too," Odysseus said, "This is one day in which the wise Odysseus didn't eat too wisely. The pickled herring was delicious, though, wasn't it?"

"I preferred the pate," Achilles said. "I think chopped liver is probably the greatest discovery of the world since our time. Remember how it used to be back in classical times? We always had to eat our liver grilled, with onions on the side. There wasn't even soy sauce in those days. Odysseus, how did we stand it?"

"We didn't know any better," Odysseus told him. "It would be hard to go back to the Trojan War and army provisions now, though, wouldn't it? Not that there's any chance."

"I suppose not," Achilles said. "That was a good war, wasn't it, Odysseus?"

"The best," Odysseus said. "There'll never be another like it. Remember when I defeated Ajax?"