He had proven useful to mankind in other ways, too.

He was basically a friendly god, more approachable than most. Over the years he had entered into discussions with many human magicians, all of whom had conjured him with respect. But this was the first time anyone had ever conjured him by force, causing him to obey whether he wanted to or not. He didn't like it. Trouble was, he didn't know quite what to do about it.

He was brooding over this, sitting under a great oak tree and looking out to sea, when he heard a soft, whispering sound. He listened more carefully. A voice was saying to him, "My boy, what seems to be the trouble?"

Hermes said, "Zeus, is that you?"

"Yes, it's me," Zeus said, "but only as a ghostly essence. The real me is in Afterglow, where all the rest of us were banished. All except you, of course."

"It wasn't my fault they carried me over as Hermes Trismegistus," Hermes said.

"No one is blaming you, my son. Just stating a fact."

"I don't understand how you can be here at all," Hermes said. "Even as a ghostly essence."

"I have a special dispensation. I can manifest my essence wherever oak trees flourish, and that's not bad, given the circumstances I'm in nowadays and the prevalence of oaks. Something seems to be troubling you. What is it, Hermes? You can tell your old dad."

Hermes hesitated. He didn't trust Zeus. None of the Olympians did. They remembered what he had done to Cronus, his father — castrated the poor old bugger and thrown his parts into the sea. They knew that Zeus feared the same fate, and so they tended to make sure no one was in a position to do that to him.

Even the thought of it made him touchy, and if he was treacherous and inconstant, it was because he thought that was the safest way to keep his cojones. Hermes knew all this, but he also knew that Zeus was a good person to talk to. "Father Zeus, a human has gotten control of me."