
Afterwards, still panting, Perseus said, "Now that you've ravished me, you realize you'll have to marry me."
Andromeda stretched languorously. A very good time had been had by all, or at least by her. She wished for a cigarette, and wished even more she knew what one was. "That can probably be arranged," she purred.
"First, though, you'll have to get me off," Perseus said.
She squawked. "Listen, mister, if I didn't just take care of that-"
"No, off this cliff," he said.
"Oh." Andromeda dipped her head in agreement. "Well, that can probably be arranged, too." She drew the sword again and swung it. It sheared through the metal that imprisoned Perseus like a divine sword cutting cheap bronze chains. After four strokes-considerably fewer than he'd been good for-he fell forward and down. They caught each other in midair. Hermes' sandals were strong enough to carry two. Andromeda had figured they would be. She and Perseus rose together.
After topping the rocks, they flew north toward Argos. Perseus said, "Can I borrow your sword for a minute?"
"Why?" Andromeda looked at him sidelong. "I like the one you come equipped with."
"It won't cut through the manacles on my ankles and wrists," Perseus said.
"Hmm. I suppose not. Sure, go ahead."
Divine swords had a lot going for them. This one neatly removed the manacles without removing the hands and feet they'd been binding. Thinking about all the times she'd sliced herself carving wild boar-those visiting Gauls could really put it away-Andromeda wished she owned cutlery like that.
