Hades gave me a beautiful, ebony gaming table inlaid with ivory. My warriors are flat, round rubies. Hades' are onyx, carved with open gates. He rolls higher, so he gets the first move. As usual.

   He places a piece on the board. Soon my men are trooping toward the center of the table, and Hades is building a phalanx at one end.

   "Cowering at the back of the field!" I joke. "That's not like you."

   "Nothing wrong with a good defensive position," he says.

   I roll again. All my men are in and the board is wall-to wall pieces. "It looks like the throne room," I say.

"You're doing very well there, by the way."

   At first I think he means the game, but obviously not: I've left a gap and he moves in, isolating one of my men.

   "I thought your words on the Lethe were nice and clear," he continues. "Much more informative than I tend to be. It's an improvement."

   The praise tastes delicious. And maybe it's an opening for something that's been on my mind since I met Melita.

   "You know," I say, "some shades are here for days before they come to the throne room."

   I pause, examining the board. I realize I don't want to mention Melita's name or our friendship. Hades doesn't have friends among the shades. He might disapprove.

   I move my piece. "That's a long time. I bet they feel lost and confused. I bet some of them end up in the Lethe by accident."

   "We do greetings when we've got a roomful. It's a simple matter of managing our resources."

   "Managing resources!" I put both my hands on the table and lean toward him. "Shades aren't resources! They're individuals, with thoughts and feelings. Haven't you ever wondered what it's like for them when they first get here?"

   I look at his confident face. No, he hasn't thought about it.

   He moves a man. "What are you proposing?"

   "We need to do throne room greetings every day."

"Every day!"

   "It doesn't take that long. And after the greetings, we could have guided tours, so shades learn where everything is, in case they're too nervous to hear what we say. And I'm thinking about a new arrivals list. Some of your 'resources' spend a long time waiting for those they love."

   "Is that all you want?" He's raising that eyebrow, smiling.

   I look at the board. How should I proceed? "It might make your work easier," I say, moving a burst of red into his crowd of onyx men. "The more comfortable shades are, the less trouble they'll cause."

   He puts his elbow on the table and rests his chin on his hand. Is he thinking about my ideas or examining his position? Finally he says, "You have a point. With the scale of this drought they're more agitated than usual."

   The drought.

   "Your turn," says Hades.

   But I don't move. I'm trying to see something bigger than the board. This isn't just about the crowds in the throne room or whether we have tours.

   "What is happening on Earth?" I say. "We never talk about it."

   "Are you going to roll?" he asks briskly.

   I move a man for the sake of moving. "When you saw Hermes last night, did you discuss the drought? Or what's happening with the crops? Did he mention my mother?"

   Hades hurls down the dice. Doubles. He forces a dark piece behind my open man.

   "It doesn't matter," he says, "because we're not going to talk about Earth." With his next roll he cuts off my escape. "And I'll tell you why."

   He lets go of the man and reaches to take my hand. He lowers his voice, softening it so it wraps around me. "I don't even want your thoughts up there. When it comes to you, I'm a very greedy man. This is your home now. You belong here by my side."

   The game is over.

   "Now," he says. "About those daily greetings . . ."