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At her words, your heart soars with confidence – what have you to fear from this sea-goddess? It is the brutal river gods that you despise – this beautiful deity has offered you nothing but friendly discourse.
“Hallowed goddess, Leukothea Ινω – if you extend your favor and good cheer to a humble mortal like myself, my heart and mind would sing together in harmony! I would ask for your protection during storms, if ever my vessels or those under my command are threatened by the raging storm or wine-dark waves.”
Leukothea laughs melodiously at your request – a smooth, rolling sound that contains the frothing of sea foam and the susurration of the receding tide.
“Bold of you to make this request, Nikandros – and bolder to call yourself humble! No man of meek disposition would dare to thwart the will of Thetis. Fortunate for you that she and I are at odds; she has ever denied due respect to my son and I.” From the floor of her chariot, she lifts an enormous conch shell, and a silver thread of power wafts it into your hands. “Blow my conch when you and yours are threatened by raging Briareos, and I will soothe the waters as I can. But be warned, Nikandros – my powers are not infinite, even within the seas of my home. I am but a minnow compared to the mighty leviathan of the Earth-Shaker.”
Inspiration strikes you, and from some recess of your mind, stanzas of poetry spill from your lips:
<span class="mu-b">The deeps have music soft and low
When winds awake the airy spry,
It lures me, lures me on to go
And see the land where corals lie.
The land, the land, where corals lie.
By mount and mead, by lawn and rill,
When night is deep, and moon is high,
That music seeks and finds me still,
And tells me where the corals lie.
And tells me where the corals lie.
Yes, press my eyelids close, 'tis well,
Yes, press my eyelids close, 'tis well,
But far the rapid fancies fly
To rolling worlds of wave and shell,
And all the land where corals lie.
Thy lips are like a sunset glow,
Thy smile is like a morning sky,
Yet leave me, leave me, let me go
And see the land where corals lie.
The land, the land, where corals lie.</span>
Leucothea stares at you in surprise – her plump lips parted, revealing her ivory teeth – she is speechless. The god-child besides her regards you fully; his attention piercing your soul, delicate features twisted in concentration. He speaks in measured tones, careful speech at odds with his childlike appearance:
“A gift for a gift, son of Hippomedon. You have pleased me and my mother with your words, and so I reward you with words in turn. We know of your dispute with the Potamoi; simple apology is not sufficient to undo your feud. If ever you seek to resolve this, you must speak with your father. There are oracles and witches both who can instruct you in the means of speaking with the dead, if you choose to seek them out.”
And with that, the goddess and the god-child wave goodbye, and promptly sink below the waves.
