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wants.”
    â€œNor do I. But assuming that nothing is accidental where the gods are concerned, I would guess that this is part of her plan.”
    Alexos is shocked by this. It flies in the face of everything he’s ever assumed about his role as champion. “Are you saying that I’m supposed to suffer? That’s what the goddess wants from me?”
    â€œThat’s a surprisingly simplistic question coming from a clever boy like you.”
    Alexos shrugs. It had seemed like a pretty straightforward question to him.
    â€œAll the heroes were tested. Think of Heracles cleaning out the Augean stables, washing out thirty years of cow dung in a single day. And poor Odysseus—all he wanted to do was get home to Penelope—but no! First he must wander the seas for ten years, be tempted by the Sirens, attacked by cannibals, imprisoned by a one-eyed monster—and you think the champion of Athene isn’t supposed to suffer ?”
    Alexos laughs, as Suliman meant him to. It clears the air.
    â€œWe cannot see into the minds of gods, Alexos. But we know from experience that hardship, challenges,and great disappointments help to form us as feeling, loving human beings. As I said before, the way you respond to a blow such as this— that is what’s important. To show courage in the face of adversity will impress Zeus far more than being fast and strong.”
    Alexos isn’t sure why this helps, but somehow it does. This new understanding won’t give him back his legs, but it gives him back his purpose.
    â€œHave you ever watched a blacksmith at work? Humor me, Alexos; I am making a point.”
    â€œNo, Suliman, I have not.”
    â€œThe blacksmith takes shapeless lumps of iron and turns them into useful things—a sword, for example. But to change its form, he must soften it over burning coals. Then, when it is red-hot, he shapes it on his anvil with a hammer. The iron must go from the fire to the anvil and back again many times before the process is complete.
    â€œThe iron was always strong, Alexos, and a thing of great value. But it was of no use to anyone until the blacksmith transformed it.”
    â€œIs that me you’re talking about?”
    â€œYou are the instrument of Athene. She is forming you on her anvil.”
    â€œWell, it hurts.”
    â€œI know.”

8
    IN THE HALLWAY OUTSIDE the sickroom, directly across from the door, there is a large ornamental chest. It rests on feet carved to look like lion’s paws. Beside it, wedged into the corner where the chest meets the wall, sits Teo, his legs drawn in close, his arms wrapped tightly around his knees. He is trying to be invisible and it seems to be working. Servants come and go from the room, yet no one has noticed him yet.
    Teo wants to see his brother, but they won’t let him in. Whenever he asks why, they say that Alexos needs his rest, which makes no sense at all. How can he rest with all those people bustling about? And besides, Alexos would much rather be with Teo than with any of them. So why can they go in when he cannot?
    It isn’t fair.
    But the answer is clearly never going to change, no matter how often he asks. So Teo is doing the next best thing. He waits in secret outside the room, hoping at least to catch the sound of his brother’s voice.
    The lady mistress, back in the nursery, doesn’t know where Teo is. She’s sound asleep in her comfortable chair. Of late she’s taken to sending the other nursemaids away in the afternoons and putting Teo down for a nap. She does this not because he’s sleepy at all, but because the lady mistress, no longer as young as she used to be, is completely worn-out from looking after a little boy. So as soon as Teo hears the dragon snores begin, he creeps from his bedchamber, tiptoes past the chair where the lady mistress sits—her arms hanging loose, her head lolling back, her mouth agape—and slips out into the