one to take his place."

The silence after that sentence was a very long one. Forrester could
think of nothing to say but: "_Me?_"

"You will be raised to the status of Godling," Venus said. "You remember
Hercules and Achilles, don't you?"

"Never met them," Forrester said vacantly.

"Naturally," Venus said. "They were, however, ancient heroes, raised to
the status of Godling, just as you yourself will be. However, you will
not be honored or worshipped under your own name."

Forrester nodded. "Naturally," he said, wondering what he was talking
about. There was, he realized, the possibility that he was not insane
after all, but he didn't want to think about that. It was much too
painful.

"You will receive instructions in the use of certain powers," Venus
said. "These will enable you to perform your new duties."

Duties.

The word carried a strange connotation. Dionysus/Bacchus was the God of
wine, among other things, and women and song had been thrown in as an
afterthought. The duties of a stand-in for a God like that sounded just
a little bit overwhelming.

"These--duties," he said. "Will they be temporary or permanent?"

"Well," Venus said, "that depends." She smiled at him sweetly.

"Depends?"

"So far," Venus said, "our testing shows that you are capable of
handling certain of the duties to be entrusted to you. But, for the
rest, everything depends on your own talents and devotion."

"Ah," Forrester said, and then: "Testing?"

"You don't suppose that we would pick a mortal for an important job like
this without making certain that he was capable of doing the job, do
you?"

"Frankly," Forrester said, "I haven't got around to supposing anything
yet."

Venus smiled again. "We have tested you," she said, "and so far you
appear perfectly capable of exercising your powers."

Forrester blinked. "Exercising?"

"Exactly. As a street brawler, for instance, you do exceptionally well."

"As a--"

"How does your face feel?" she asked.

"My what?" Forrester said. "Oh. Face. Fine. Street brawls, you said?"

"I did," Venus said. "My goodness, the way you bashed that one bruiser
with your drink--that was really excellent. As a matter of fact, I feel
it incumbent on me to tell you that I haven't enjoyed a fight so much in
years."

Wondering whether he should be complimented or just a little ashamed of
himself, Forrester said nothing at all. The idea that he had been under
the personal supervision of Aph