The Venus Throw
““Where are you going?” Bethesda cast a chilly glance of recognition at Trygonion, crossed her arms and gave me the Medusa look. How could such a woman ever have been anyone’s slave, least of all mine? Diana stood alongside and slightly behind her mother. She too drew back her shoulders and crossed her arms, affecting the same imperious gaze.
“Out,” I said. Bethesda’s arms remained crossed; the answer did not suffice. “The gallus may have some work for me,” I added.
She stared at the little priest so intently that I would hardly have been surprised to see him turn to stone. Instead, he smiled at her. The two of them seemed impervious to each other. Trygonion was not intimidated; Bethesda was not charmed. “You’d better take Belbo with you” was all she had to say before uncrossing her arms and proceeding down the hallway. Diana followed, mimicking her mother’s movements with uncanny precision—until I swung around and tickled her under her arms.
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