Alvin. It was a boring business,
exploding rocks in mid-air, but after a while Symes apparently got to
like it, and thought of it as a singular honor. After all, he had been
picked for a unique position: target-tosser for the great God Dionysus.
Who else could make that statement?

He would probably grow in the estimation of his friends, Forrester
thought, and that was a picture that wouldn't stand much thinking about.
As a stupefying boor, Symes was bad enough. Adding insufferable
snobbishness to his present personality was piling Pelion on Ossa. And
only a God, Forrester reminded himself wryly, could possibly do that.

Now, Forrester discovered, Symes and Alvin Sherdlap and Gerda were all
sitting around a large keg of beer which Symes had somehow managed to
appropriate from some other part of the grounds. He and Alvin were
guzzling happily, and Gerda was just sitting there, whiling away the
time, apparently, by thinking. Forrester wondered if she was thinking of
him, and the notion made him feel sad and poetic.

Gerda couldn't see him any longer, he knew. The darkness of night had
come down and there was no moon. The only illumination was the glow
rising from the rest of the city, since the lights of the park would
stay out throughout the night. To an ordinary mortal, the remaining
light was not enough to see anything more than a few feet away. But to
Forrester's Godlike, abnormally perceptive vision, the park seemed no
darker than it had at dusk, an hour or so before. Though the Symes trio
could not possibly see him, he could still watch over them with no
effort at all.

He intended to continue doing so.

But now, with darkness putting a cloak over his activities, and his mind
completely empty of excuses, was the time to begin the task at hand.

He cleared his throat and spoke very softly.

"Well," he said. "Well."

There had to be something to follow that, but for a minute he couldn't
think of what.

Millicent giggled unexpectedly. "Oh, Lord Dionysus! I feel so
_honored_!"

"Er," Forrester said. Finally he found words. "Oh, that's all right," he
said, wondering exactly what he meant. "Perfectly all right, Millicent."

"Call me Millie."

"Of course, Millie."

"You can call me Bets, if you want to," Bette chimed in. Bette was a
blonde with short, curly hair and a startling figure. "It's kind of a
pet name. You know."

"Sure," Forrester said. "Uh--would you mind keeping your voices down a
little?"