Read Online Cursed by the Sea God by Patrick Bowman - Free Book Online Page B

but they were strangely tasty now. “Feeling better yet?”
     Circe trilled. “Don’t worry, you will soon, I know!” The door banged shut.
    Some of the Greeks, especially those such as Pharos who had become larger pigs,
     were spending their time trotting up and down the walls of the enclosure,
     looking for a way out. I couldn’t imagine why; that’s where the lions were.
     Smaller than the others, I huddled alone by the back door, hoping they wouldn’t
     trample me with their sharp trotters. As a result, I was the only one who heard
     what happened next.
    For a while, all I could hear was Circe singing something tuneless as she went
     about her chores. The spinning wheel clicked from the garden out front, then
     stopped. I could hear voices but couldn’t quite make them out. Eventually, they
     came inside the cottage and I could hear them more clearly.
    “Would you—would you care for some wine, my lord?” Circe sounded
     breathless.
    “No,” came the flat reply. “I’m looking for my men. They came this way
     yesterday.”
    Lopex! He could free us! But his next words chilled me. “Just a little, then,
     while we talk.”
    I could hear her drawing a dipper from the amphora and pouring it into a
     goblet. A stool scraped as though it was being pulled up. “Now, tell me about
     yourself,” I heard her say. “What brings a handsome man like you to my little
     cottage?”
    Another stool scraped, and I heard Lopex approaching.His face
     appeared at the open window. I could hardly look high enough to see him. The
     gods had clearly designed pigs to watch the ground, not the skies. Holding the
     goblet before his lips, he tipped it carefully the other way, pouring its
     contents out the window. “A fine yard of pigs you have here, Circe,” he
     remarked loudly as the red wine spattered in the garden beside me.
    Tilting the empty goblet against his lips as if draining it, he turned back to
     face into the room. “As fine as this wine you’ve served me.” He wiped an arm
     across dry lips. “But I must ask you again whether you have seen my men.” It was
     strange, as a pig I could hear every word as clearly as if I was standing
     between them.
    Circe’s voice sounded uncertain. “Your men? What, um, men were those? Oh! Of
     course. Those men!” She laughed, a nervous, high-pitched twitter. “Oh,
     yes, they came. I served them some wine, and then they left. They said they were
     going hunting. That was it, going hunting.”
    Lopex’s reply was low and mumbled. For a little while the only sound was his
     breathing. Then there came the sound of a goblet crashing to the floor and I
     heard Circe push back her stool.
    “Hmm.” I heard her murmur as she got to her feet. “What sort of creature are
     you? Never a pig, not you, my sweet, no. A noble, forceful man like you?” She
     clapped her hands. “Of course! A man like you must be a wolf!”
    I heard her footsteps disappear into her bed chamber andreturn
     a moment later. “You’re going to like being a wolf, my sweet. A lone, lean,
     cunning wolf. Now . . . just hold steady, that’s right.”
    Suddenly there was a frightened squeal, and Lopex’s flat voice. “Put it down.
     Now.” Then the sound of a tiny jar being set hastily on a table. “Now tell me
     what really happened to my men.”
    Circe sounded as if she was having trouble speaking, most likely because of a
     knife at her throat. “Who . . . who are you? How did you resist my potion?
     Please let me go. I won’t hurt you!”
    “Swear it, witch!”
    I heard her squeak in pain. “Please, I—” There were sounds of someone
     struggling to get free. “All right. I swear!”
    “The strongest oath you know, witch!”
    “Please, stop! You’re hurting me!” Her voice was still strangled. “I swear . .
     . I swear on the mighty river Styx itself that neither I nor my creatures will
     harm you or your men from this point on.”
    There was the sound of a knife being re-sheathed. A