QBLH
The Two of Pentacles
Change
Growth and Creation
​
Chapter LXVI
Future Plans
Juggling responsibilities
"
“Medea likes neither of us, Jim.”
Helen’s voice carried no accusation—only weary certainty. She sat cross-legged near the fire, absently tracing circles in the sand with a stick.
“She is jealous of both myself and Antiope,” Helen continued, “and of Hatshepsut as well. She knows that you love us. Medea claims she had an encounter with you in the Pleasure Dome—so the rumors say. Did you meet her during one of your… flashback romances?”
Antiope folded her arms, studying him carefully.
“Yes, Jim. I have heard the same stories. Several of my warriors swear they were on Artemis yesterday. Yesterday. They describe the Dome in detail. Is this true?”
Jim sighed and lowered himself onto a stone, suddenly very tired.
“Now, girls—please. You both know I’m living on borrowed time. I have a score pad to turn in to Isis. When it’s full, the clock runs out, and we all return to Artemis. This Earth adventure ends—abruptly. We only have a couple of days left by Artemis reckoning, no matter how long it feels here.”
Antiope laughed softly, shaking her head.
“You are impossible. We have been here for dozens of Earth moons, Jim. Entire seasons have passed. And yet you insist this has all unfolded in less than two days of Artemis time.”
“The passage of time becomes indeterminate once you cross the event horizon,” Jim replied gently. “Yet physics demands symmetry. I must return you to the precise moment we departed. When we arrive back in the twenty-first century, we will be aboard the Flying Dutchman just southeast of Cyprus. All of this will feel like a dream.”
He paused.
“But it will not have been a dream. It will have been real. Only… unverifiable. The paradox-avoidance system will ensure that none of you can prove we altered history in any measurable way.”
Antiope stared into the fire.
“So what now, Qblh?”
Jim straightened.
“We arrange the removal of the tribe—after they attack the city we rule together, Antiope. Helen will be sent to Menelaeus to serve as High Priestess of Sparta. You and I will be married in Athens.”
He smiled faintly.
“How does that sound?”
Antiope returned the smile—but uneasily.
“It sounds wonderful. And terrifying. What of the Amazons once we leave them behind? They will see us as traitors. I promised them a return to Artemis.”
“And they will have it,” Jim said. “At the moment they fall in battle, they will not die. Genie will retrieve them. That will mark the end of the Amazons on Earth—at least as history remembers them.”
Antiope’s expression hardened.
“And you leave the rule of Earth to men?” she asked sharply. “I’ve watched them think, Jim. They are impulsive, prideful, territorial. They undo every good thing placed in their hands. I trust none of them. Each time they see us, they attempt abduction. When that fails, they curse us as monsters. I don’t understand what you see in them.”
She leaned closer.
“Isis is right. Humanity has been ruled—guided—by us for millennia. Why must you shoulder this alone, when she is willing to help them in her own effective way?”
Jim’s voice cooled.
“Your subjects are wearing on you, Antiope. You know I don’t like hearing that—and you know Isis would delight in hearing you say it. I warned you of the risks of this mission. You chose it anyway. You must trust me.”
He met her eyes.
“And don’t forget—I am a man too.”
A beat passed.
“So,” Antiope said, brightening deliberately, “when may I announce our betrothal?”
“You may not,” Jim answered at once. “Not yet. The Amazons would revolt if you married their Qblh. They would call it sacrilege. War would follow. Didn’t your simulations show that?”
Antiope smiled.
“I thought that was the plan.”
“It is,” Jim replied, “but not yet.”
She laughed softly.
“Very well. Just teasing, my beloved. Don’t scowl, Helen. I envy your role as well. You will be remembered as the most beautiful woman who ever lived.”
Helen snorted.
“And I don’t even get to marry my hero. I’m handed off to a feeble old king who can barely keep my interest.”
“Menelaeus was king of Sparta,” Jim said mildly.
“Yes—and too afraid to come after me himself. He sent his brute of a brother instead. I shattered their pride by choosing whom I wanted.”
“You speak of this as though it has already happened,” Jim said.
“And if I refuse to play my part?”
Jim smiled faintly.
“So you would choose the old king over this wandering white knight?”
“You ran,” Helen accused quietly. “You could have won.”
“I cannot take life,” Jim replied. “History sometimes demands retreat. But hear this, Helen—you are not returning to Sparta. Troy may fall. That is history’s reward. But you leave with me. Your time here ends.”
“I’ll decline being your maid of honor,” Helen said dryly.
Antiope frowned.
“If the marriage means nothing, Jim, perhaps I should reconsider it.”
Both women waited.
“Our marriage on Earth will not be recognized on Artemis,” Jim said at last. “Isis would annul it.”
“Must you return to her?” Antiope asked.
“I don’t believe I can avoid it.”
Helen’s voice softened.
“You love her.”
Jim did not answer.
Instead, he withdrew to his tent and summoned Genie.
He could not deny his love for Isis. Yet devotion to truth—to the Creator whose laws governed all existence—stood above instinct, desire, even love. He was no mere conqueror of worlds. He was a student of reality itself, bound to follow knowledge wherever it led.
Isis understood this better than anyone.
Antiope and Helen never could.
