Quicksilver Read Online Free PDF

tree. It touched a branch, a leaf rustled, and he was on his feet, sword in hand. He looked around warily and I thought,
He’s quick. Excellent.
    I took off my cap so that he could see me. “Perseus,” I said in greeting.
    “Hermes!” He was sixteen or so, nearly full-grown, with a boy’s tremulous voice and a smooth, fine-boned face. Except for the white-gold braid that hung down his back, his pale hair was clipped to the skull. At first glance he looked more like a shepherd than a king’s grandson—his hands were rough and his garment was country-spun. But his manners were good. He dropped his sword and fell to his knees instantly, bowing his head.
    “Rise,” I said, and he sprang to his feet with the awkward grace of a fawn rising out of a nest. “Let’s plan our battle.”
    “You’re coming? The goddess didn’t tell me!” Surprise and pleasure transformed his face. Smiling, he was handsome.
    “At least she remembered to give you her shield,” I said. Athena’s memory is terrible—except for grudges. Hearing of Perseus’ mission to kill Medusa, she had quickly volunteered her favorite weapon. The shield, polished to a mirror shine, lay on the forest floor, giving us a bright blue oval of sky. “She told you how to use it, I hope?”
    He shook his head. “I know I can’t look at Medusa, or I’ll turn to stone like them.” He pointed to a spot through the trees, about a hundred paces away, where a motionless parade of Medusa’s victims approached the cave entrance. They looked startled, incredulous that her stare was lethal, even as it killed them.
    “Poor fools,” I said.
    I backed away from Perseus. “I’ll be Medusa. Come at me, but look at my reflection in the shield.” I scowled hideously, wiggling my fingers around my head as if they were snakes. He forced a smile, but we both knew that battling the real Medusa would be no laughing matter. She, who had once been a pretty young girl with beautiful dark ringlets, had remarked that her hair was lovelier than Athena’s, and the silly boast had ruined her.
    Hearing it, Athena had turned her into a monster, with live snakes for tresses. Grotesque and miserable, Medusa had retreated to a cave deep in Arcadia. Whatever kinship she had felt with mortals had long since turned to searing hatred. Those who found her found death also: her stare was so frightening that it turned mortal onlookers to stone.
    Have I mentioned that the gods can be spiteful?
    Now Perseus hoisted the shield with his left hand, grasping his sword with his right. Looking into the shield as if it were a mirror, he came toward me sideways, sword raised.
    I hissed as Medusa might, slipping beyond his reach. He lunged at me again, and again I evaded him. He took a deep breath, preparing for another try. To his credit, he kept his dark blue eyes on the shield. This time I screeched and pretended to claw at his shoulder. He would have struck me if I hadn’t used my winged sandals to leap high out of range.
    “You have the right idea but the wrong tools,” I told him. “Your sword is too short for the job.”
    “It’s all I have,” he said, without a hint of self-pity. I liked that.
    The Adamantine Sickle was propped against one of the stone bodies near the cave. I retrieved it.
    “Here,” I said, offering it. “Try this.”
    He took it and his watchful, rather serious expression went from interest to downright wonder. He looked as blissful as if he’d just received one of Aphrodite’s warmest smiles.
    “Better than your sword, don’t you think?”
    He hefted it. “Much better,” he said slowly. Then, without warning, he took a quick swing at me that I just barely managed to avoid. When I ducked, he actually laughed.
    I was amazed by his lack of respect. I might look his age, but I was ageless and divine; he knew that. “Careful!” I snapped. “You won’t last long in there if you act like a buffoon.”
    At my rebuke I saw his hand tighten around the weapon’s