"Well," he continued, "Amathea was one of a big family called Nereids that helped sailors to survive dangerous storms in a place called the Aegean Sea. One day, the goddess Rhea had a son named Zeus. But she was afraid that his father, Kronos, would hurt him, so she asked Amathea to keep him safe, and raise him for her."
Amathea frowned. "Why would Kronos do that? Didn't he like Zeus?"
Conklin smiled. "People are still arguing about that. When you're older, you'll discover that there are new things that you can learn from stories you thought you already knew. And trust me, this is one of them. Anyway, after Zeus grows up, he thanks her with a pretty amazing gift. It's a goat's horn that will give her anything she desires. So I drew you one."
Cristall opened the envelope and slid a sheet of paper out. At first glance, it seemed to be a richly illustrated, realistic-looking horn, set against what looked like a rough-hewn plank table. The textures he'd drawn were simply amazing. But there was something odd about the business end of the horn. The profusion of imagery tumbling out of it was nearly hypnotic. Instead of portraying specific objects, as she'd seen it depicted elsewhere, Peter Conklin had created a field of intricately layered patterns that challenged her imagination to conjure all manner of things in the same place. Gazing at the drawing was like seeing shapes in clouds, or in the textures of a sand-painted wall.
She looked up at him. "This is amazing."
Amathea's hand floated above the textures. Then she tried to touch something that wasn't there, and fell into a happy giggle. "Thank you. It's wonderful."
"You're quite welcome, my lady" he said, affecting a formal nod.
Ryan shook his head slowly. "I guess I was wrong. Nobody who can create something that beautiful could be irredeemable."
"Then you're okay with me being let out of prison?"
"Sure, but it also means I've got some thinking to do."
"Oh? About what?"
He pointed to a tree near the corner of the house. "My benefactor, for a start. Despicable as he was, Gregory Davis did recognize fine craftsmanship when he saw it."
Conklin shrugged. "So what? People in all kinds of professions have had their talents misused. Tech types building weapons... lawyers skirting the law... artists, writers and musicians manipulating people's emotions to benefit some jerk with the power and wealth to have his way. But every one of them had to overrule their objections, to swallow their pride at one time or another in order to earn their next meal. Davis never had to deal with that. He, and those like him, did it out of greed and a lust for power regardless of the cost to someone else."
"There is one thing I don't get, though."
"What's that?"
"Cristall said you were considered a hero where she works."
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