An Exaltation of Muse

Thalia is mentor to the frustrated muses assigned to writers who don't publish stories but comment freely—and frequently harshly—on other writers' stories. She has dubbed this unlucky lot

Muses to the Overt Commentariat (MOCs)

; they meet each Wednesday at their local,

The Fleeting Muse

. Two Wednesdays ago she mocked the commentators assigned to some of the muses present, paying particular attention to the man attended to by Clio, then held Clio up to ridicule for not properly inspiring him. Wednesday last, she apologized profusely for being so thoughtless and rude, then tried to explain how and why she came to be assigned as mentor to the MOCs

.

-§§§-

Previously on

An Exaltation of Muse

:

"And that, dear—"Her mobile played a few bars of Vera Lynn's

The White Cliffs of Dover

. She dug it out of her purse and looked at the screen.

"Bloody hell! I've got to take this." She touched the green phone icon and listened for less than a minute, paled, then touched the red phone icon without responding. Tucking the mobile and reading glasses back in her purse, she bade them farewell. "Forgive me, ladies, but I must go. I'll see you next week." As she turned and headed for the door, she added "I hope" under her breath.

Just as Thalia set foot on Tribar Mews in front of

The Fleeting Muse

, she was struck by a lightning bolt and disappeared.

-§-

THALIA FELT SOMEWHAT lightheaded and disoriented. She was seated in an uncomfortable chair in what appeared to be a surgery waiting room. About half the chairs were occupied by women, none of whom seemed surprised at her abrupt appearance in their midst.

The receptionist behind the counter looked up and, unlike the others patiently waiting, gave a startled look. "Wha...would you step up here?" As Thalia approached, she picked up a clipboard and held it out. "Please sign in, name, insurance, and appointment time."

"I...I don't have insurance. Or an appointment. I'm not sure why I'm here, or even where—"

"Oh, you were summoned." She exchanged the appointment clipboard for another and ran her finger down a list of names. Looking at the clock, her face and voice softened as she pressed a button on her desk. "My mistake. Please forgive."

Before Thalia could protest that there was nothing to forgive, a woman in a white coat opened the door to the inner sanctum and made eye contact. "Could you please follow me?" She waited for Thalia to join her, then set out down a hallway. Stopping before a door labeled

Musée

, she started to open it. "It will be just a moment. You needn't remove any clothing."

As Thalia stepped into the room she turned to thank the woman, but had to scuttle inside because the door was closing. The nurse, or whatever she was, was already gone. Puzzled by how quickly she had disappeared, Thalia turned back into the room and went weak in the knees. Instead of entering a small room with dodgy posters, an exam table, and a cabinet of tools and meds, she was standing at one end of a vast room, flanked by life-size figures, that stretched into the cloudy distance.

She thought it was a statuary hall until a statuesque female stepped down from her plinth. Thalia was startled to recognize the same woman who had escorted her from the waiting room. She repeated her request. "Could you please follow me?" then led Thalia to another door concealed by drapery,

This door opened into a wide passageway that stretched to an unseen horizon. Just as Thalia started turning to query her guide, she spied movement in the distance. She was puzzled to see a sedan chair floating toward her, though no one was carrying the handles. It stopped when it reached her, abruptly settled, then the door opened. Her now-silent sentry motioned for her to get in. She did so, and sat facing back the way they had come. The door closed, the conveyance rose unsteadily as if being lifted onto shoulders, and began to move.

Thalia expected it to stop when it reached the door through which she had just passed but, oddly enough, it kept moving. Through the door window she could see the walls they were passing; it started moving faster, then she felt a thump and the walls gave way to a view of fields and woods.

Finally their pace slowed. They passed a sign

Entering Elysium,

and shortly thereafter a second sign saying

Thank you for visiting Elysium

. Soon thereafter they passed similar signs identifying Paradise and Valhalla. Finally, craning her neck to peer at the road ahead, she saw the gates of a city. They passed through, wound through the narrow streets for a few minutes, then stopped before a pub,

The Uneasy Head

.

Again, the sedan chair lowered not gently onto the cobblestones and the door opened. Thalia stepped down, and even though she still saw no one who might have carried the chair, she felt guilty about not offering some recompense. "I'm sorry, but all I have is a gold Alexander stater. Perhaps I can get it changed inside." As she turned toward the pub door, she thought she heard what sounded suspiciously like someone breaking wind and the sedan chair set off back the way she had come.

She entered the pub and chose a booth. Almost immediately, the barmaid took her order for a lemon squash. When she delivered the drink, she turned down Thalia's offer to pay. "The gent at the bar paid for it." A fellow in an anorak and tweed flat cap raised his pint in salute and turned back to the bar.

She was tempted to send the squash back to make it clear she wouldn't welcome his approach, then decided she could handle whatever arose. A few minutes later, she regretted her decision, as the fellow didn't just walk up to the booth, he slid in across from her and took a pull on his pint. Before she could protest, he pushed back the hood and took off his cap.

"'Daddy Zeus? Zeus Juice?' What am I do with you, daughter?" His grin gave lie to the gruff tone as his features rearranged into familiar, craggy lines. Thalia was—almost—struck dumb.

"Father?" She leaned forward and touched his face. "Is it really you?"

"It hurts me you have any doubts, Thalia. Has it been that long, have you forgotten me? Your mother is Mnemosyne, remember?" With that, the anorak and flat cap disappeared, replaced by a rough-and-ready tunic and a quiver of lightning bolts. "Better?"

"Oh my gods, it really is you!" She leaned far across the table and kissed his cheek, then sat back as tears leaked slowly from her eyes. "I never imagined I would ever see you, and now it's only because I've displeased you." Leak grew to flow as she began to weep.

Zeus reached his great hand across the small table and caressed Thalia's darkling locks. "Don't cry, dear daughter. I'm not unhappy with you, just puzzled why you would try to make cheap jokes at my expense." He furrowed his beetling brows and peered closely into Thalia's eyes. "What do you want, Thalia, what do you

really

want? Do you want to be liked, is that it? Is that why you try so hard?"

He drained his pint of bitter and waved off the attentive barmaid. Thalia squirmed a bit under his gaze, then relaxed as she decided on an answer. "No, I don't want to be liked, I want to matter. Not because Thalia is a muse or a mentor of muses or even a daughter of Zeus. I want to matter because of what Thalia knows, of what Thalia does, not simply who Thalia is."

He slowly shook his head and smiled benignly. "You matter to me, Thalia, you matter a great deal to me." Thalia shook her head.

"You don't count. It doesn't matter what you think."

"I...don't count?" His voice grew louder and deeper, more like a god than a father. "It doesn't matter what I think?" The denizens of the pub flinched as a brilliant light flashed through every window, followed immediately by a monstrous clap of thunder that rattled glasses and bottles as dust sifted down from the ceiling. Everyone relaxed when the peals of thunder faded into the distance.

Thalia paled, then adopted a resolute look. "Perhaps I should rephrase that." They both resisted the temptation to chuckle. "What I meant is that because you are my father, you're

expected

to care about me, it's your duty to see to my well-being, mind as well as body. So while I am eternally grateful for your love and respect, you alone can't satisfy this need of mine."

"Need or want? It makes a difference, you know."

"Want, I suppose, although I'm not sure there's a difference between something you want every minute of every day and something you need. I want people to value my opinions, to honestly appraise what I accomplish, to care about me without judging me, to be glad when I show up and miss me when I'm not there." She sighed. "And to care enough about me to tell me when I make a mistake and tell—no,

suggest

how I might fix it. Is that asking too much?"

She answered her own question. "Probably."

Zeus rolled his eyes majestically. "Not necessarily. Are you willing to earn it?"

Thalia's eyes flashed with determination, maybe just a hint of anger. "Of

course

I'm willing to earn it! I already said I don't want it just because of who I am!"

Then her determination and anger slowly gave way to uncertainty, her voice lost its authority. "How? How do you earn that?"

"Ah. Here's the first step: Figure out why it's significant that you have to ask how. Once you know that, the rest will follow."

Thalia panicked. She had no idea why her asking how was so important. "Please, father, give me some specifics. I don't know what you mean."

Zeus leaned forward and fixed her with a godly glare. "Be consistent; don't jump back and forth between being a sarcastic

prima donna

and a comforting best friend. In your discourse with others, always be honest; never take the easy way, instead make the hard choices." He cushioned her hand beneath his. "And don't worry about them liking you, Thalia, worry about them respecting you."

He abruptly stood, his anorak and cap replaced the chiton. His face reverted to the features of a handsome, virile young man, not the commanding visage of the king of gods. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have an appointment—or soon will make one—with a winsome milkmaid I spied entering a nearby barn." He leaned down and kissed her gently on the top of her head, then disappeared.

Thalia looked about frantically, but he was truly gone; no one else seemed to have noticed his disappearance. Just then she heard several horses whickering outside the pub, then a coachman opened the door and looked about. Spying Thalia, he gestured for her to come along.

"Your coach awaits, My Lady Thalia." When he saw her glance toward the toilets, he hastened to assure her. "You'll not need to use the facilities, it shall be a brief journey." And so it was.

Yes, there's yet more...

-30-