Trapped

wine and unpronounceable cheese. As I gazed on him, I realized he had known pleasures that I could never know myself, and a twinge of envy trembled at the hollow of my throat. There were many who would do anything to take the smallest sip of the epic draughts of pleasure he had sampled in his immortal life. And once they had wetted their tongues on it, they were his thralls, for they would endure any abuse to taste it again, and, if withheld from them too long, they would go mad. Either way, Bacchus was worshipped and served.
    The allure of unthinking animal bliss is powerful; it always calls to us, in the same way as the edge of a cliff or the waves of the ocean: Jump . It is a necessary part of our natures, full of delight and danger in equal measure. Yet to the mind trained in language, taught to spy subtleties and take joy in them, such crude, baser matters can pale after a while. But there lies grave peril also: The propensity to empathize with pain expressed in words encourages a poet to avoid the real thing, and a too-passionate love of books can mew one in a cloister, putting up walls where there should be free range. I decided long ago—to keep myself sane amongst the illiterate and unthinking—that there would be poetry in my life. But there would also be fucking. I would have them both, but follow the sage advice of modern beer commercials and enjoy responsibly. There was nothing responsible about the god of the vine.
    The Bacchants stopped in front of the cave entrance but did not see it. They raised noses into the air and sniffed, scowling. One of them spoke in Latin, a language both Granuaile and I understood.
    » It was here, or near here, but it’s gone now. «
    A second Bacchant observed, » There’s something else in the air. Desire. I wonder if it was sex magic. «
    » That’s the best kind. «
    » Mmm. Lord Bacchus, might we pause to relax? I’m in the mood. «
    I winced. Her mood, if given rein, would kill us both. My amulet provided absolutely no defense against Bacchanalia, and once they drew us into it, we’d be completely in their power. I fervently hoped that Bacchus had a headache.
    He didn’t. Instead, he had an agenda. » No. We cannot spend ourselves in sport. Faunus cannot keep him trapped here forever. We must continue to search. «
    The Bacchants whined. I very nearly mocked them and gave away our position, but I held my tongue until long after they had disappeared to the north and the birds started to chirp again.
    Raising a finger to my lips, I whispered to Granuaile, » We’re leaving. Bring your ID and your weapon. Leave everything else here. We’ll move fast and light but without magic. Don’t tap into the earth for any reason. «
    » Okay, « she whispered. » But it’ll be dark soon. Can’t we cast night vision? «
    » No. That spell will linger and give them something to sniff out. I have a different idea. «
    We slipped out of the cave as quietly as we could, but all our movements felt unnaturally loud now that I knew an Olympian was actively searching for me. My cold iron amulet protected me from divination, and the Olympians probably didn’t know enough about Granuaile or Oberon to try to find me through them, but I still felt like the eyes of Jupiter were tracking my every move. I flipped off the sky just in case.
    » What was that for? « Granuaile asked.
    » General principles, « I said. » Let’s grab Oberon and go. «
    We headed south along the creek bed for about a quarter mile before I reached out to Oberon. I didn’t think our mental link was especially strong magic, but a form of radio silence had been advisable in case they could smell it.
    Oberon? We’re near the creek bed heading south. Can you come down and meet us, please?
    › Sure thing, Atticus! Are we meeting for dinner? ‹
    Unfortunately not. We have to get out of here, Celtic ninja style. And we shouldn’t talk too much in case they’re able to detect it .
    › Roger that. See you soon. ‹
    Oberon met us shortly thereafter, wagging his tail. I smiled and petted him while I whispered to Granuaile, » You’re going to ride out of here bareback. «
    » On what? «
    » On me. When I’m in stag form, I see quite well at night without having to cast night vision. «
    » But won’t shape-shifting draw them to us? «
    » It might. But it’s a onetime spell, and we’re going to literally hoof it out of here as soon as I cast it. « I unslung Fragarach and handed it to her, then turned