Someone clutched Atropos, crowing with delight. It was a goddess she did not recognise, wearing a gauzy gown the colour of corn. Her loosened hair was rippling from its braided coronet like the wind through barley.
‘But this is marvellous for you!’ she chattered, ‘Your lives will be less hard-working, so much more spontaneous. And you’ve been doing all that work for, how long? Inconceivable to imagine! Come, we must celebrate your release!’
She tugged Atropos with her to a passing tray of drinks borne by a hefty slave, and presented her with another silver cup.
‘Your health, and good fortune on all the roads that you travel!’ she cried gaily, and took a deep draught of her wine. She fixed Atropos with a firm gaze. ‘Because you will travel. Won’t you?’
Atropos was trying to recall the goddess’s name and to say something suitable, but she was distracted, and could not look away. There was something familiar about those wide eyes. They were the startling green of virgin oil, but yet also as yellow as a snake’s.