Vulcan had told him: "You were picked not merely for your physical resemblance to Dionysus, but your psychological resemblance as well."
That had to be true, if only because, as far as Forrester could see, nobody had the slightest reason to lie about it. But why should it be true? What advantage did the Gods get out of that "psychological resemblance"? All he was supposed to be was a double—and anybody who looked like Dionysus would be accepted as Dionysus by the people. The "psychological resemblance" didn't have a single thing to do with it.
Mars, Venus, Vulcan—even Zeus had dropped clues. Zeus had referred to him as a "substitute for Dionysus."
A substitute, he realized with a kind of horror, was not at all the same thing as a double.
The answer was perfectly clear, but there were even more facts to bolster it. Why had he been tested, for instance, after he had been made a demi-God? In spite of what Vulcan had said, was he slated for further honors if he passed the new tests? He was sure that Vulcan had been telling the truth as far as he'd gone—but it hadn't been the whole truth. Forrester was certain of that now.
And what was it that Venus had said during that argument with Mars? Something about not killing Forrester, because then they would have to "get another—"
Another what?
Another substitute?
No, there was no escape from the simple and obvious conclusion. Dionysus was either missing, which was bad enough, or something much worse.
He was dead.