Imagos

Iolaus crouched down to brush his fingers across the one clear track in the patch of damp ground at the edge of the forest. From the condition of the leaf mold and the depth of the print, the creature had passed this way after the rain this morning. "Well, they weren't wrong," he said, glancing up at Hercules. "The minotaur was here all right."

Hercules frowned, tapping his fingers on his belt. "What I'd like to know is how it got here from the mountains without anyone knowing about it."

Iolaus nodded. The minotaur would have had to pass through Thespiae or its outskirts and the panic would have started days ago. "Yeah, it doesn't make sense." He noticed Hercules was carefully keeping his back to the temple across the road and Iolaus couldn't help flicking a glance at it himself. They exchanged a look of mutual wry resignation. It was a little hard to concentrate with all those people staring.

The temple of Gaia was a big gray stone building, with an open, inviting portico across the front, set back across the wide tree-shaded clearing. Flowering vines climbed the walls and overhung the balconies and the big windows on the second floor, and more large trees shaded the attached barn and the gardens that covered much of the open area up to the road. The Sisters of Gaia, the travellers who had been caught out on the road, and the locals whose homes were small enough for a minotaur to easily smash had all taken refuge within the temple and the barn. Unfortunately they were all now clustered nervously on the portico, peering intently out of the windows, or hanging precariously off the balconies.

Hercules made the mistake of glancing toward the temple, causing a stir of comment and speculation to ripple through the onlookers. He sighed, shaking his head. "We might as well be stage center at the Theater of Dionysus during the festival."

Standing and brushing the loam off his hands, Iolaus nodded. "At least then there'd be dancing girls behind us to distract them." He followed the tracks back toward the temple, noting the length of the creature's stride. "Look here, Herc, there's more than one of them." He pointed to another partial hoofprint that was distinctly smaller than the ones nearer the trees.

Hercules let his breath out and studied the forest around them worriedly. "Great."

The tracks led across the road and skirted the edge of the temple's orchard, heading toward a pool of water at the far end of the clearing. After studying the ground, Iolaus shook his head, baffled. "They're both going back and forth to this old fountain a lot. I don't see what the attraction is."

The pool was perfectly round, surrounded by a low stone coping that was dark green with moss and chipped and cracked with age. If there had ever been any ornament in the center or pipes and jets to keep the water moving, they had been removed long ago. Iolaus supposed it had originally been built to water the gardens, but it was dark and stale and dragonflies buzzed over choking weeds; it must have been long ago superseded by some more convenient well. Why the minotaur wanted to drink from this pool instead of the natural ones formed by the clear stream less than twenty yards into the forest Iolaus couldn't guess. The one advantage of the place was that the pomegranate and plum trees and the lush gardens screened this spot from the view of the temple.

Hercules stepped up to the pool, eyeing it thoughtfully. He sat on his heels to scrape away the moss on the coping. "This is much older than the temple." There was writing carved into the stone, and Iolaus bent down to look, but so many of the letters had been eroded away that it was impossible to read. Hercules sat back, frowning. "It looks unpleasantly...ceremonial."

"Sacrificial ceremonial?" Iolaus asked, brows lifted.

Hercules nodded. "Could be."

"I'm not diving in there to find out if there's bones on the bottom."

Hercules pretended to look surprised. "Why not?"

They exchanged a grin, then both looked up sharply at a rustle from the orchard, relaxing as the rustle turned into tentative footsteps on the loam. "Guys? Guys," Salmoneus said, ducking to avoid the low branches. "Guys, can you go back out to the road, where everybody can see you?" He picked his way gingerly toward them, lifting his blue and red patterned robes out of the mud.

Iolaus snorted and glanced at Hercules, who got to his feet, brushing his hands off and shaking his head in amazement. "Salmoneus, in case you haven't noticed, we're tracking a minotaur," the demigod said.

"Well, can't you track it out in the road?" Salmoneus persisted.

"This is serious. Minotaurs eat people, Salmoneus." Hercules took the merchant by the shoulders and turned him around, steering him back toward the temple.

"Yeah, and it's not pretty," Iolaus seconded, following them back through the brush. Tracking the minotaur through the forest this morning, they had found the remains of one of its kills, an old man who had been out gathering herbs. He hadn't been a very big old man and there had been evidence of only one minotaur feeding on him, so both beasts would still be hungry. Iolaus and Hercules had collected what was left and brought it to the Sisters of Gaia for burial, and he wasn't looking forward to having to find the family to let them know grandpa wouldn't be coming home. Iolaus felt an inward shudder at the idea of coming across Salmoneus or anyone else he knew in that condition.

"All right, all right, I've got the message, I'm going." Salmoneus flapped his hands placatingly. "Just try to, you know, be more exciting. You guys have to learn how to please a crowd."

Hercules didn't dignify that with a reply. Exasperated, he pointed toward the temple. "Go, Salmoneus."

"Okay, you don't have to tell me twice," the merchant assured them, hurrying away up the path toward the temple before Hercules could point out he had had to tell him at least twice.

Hercules shook his head, staring worriedly after him. "There's no way he could have convinced the Sisters of Gaia that he had some kind of right to sell tickets or something to watch us do this.... Is there?"

Iolaus considered, biting his lip. "We'd better check later, just in case."

Hercules nodded, resigned. He ran his hands through his hair. "All right, let's get this over with. It's your turn to be the bait."

Pulling the scabbard off his belt and resting it across his shoulders, Iolaus shook his head as they started back toward the road. "No, I was the bait last time." It was going to be a tense situation, stalking two minotaurs through the dense summer undergrowth in these woods, and this discussion was in the nature of a warming-up exercise.

"Excuse me? I still have a bite mark from a certain giant snake--"

Iolaus raised his brows, affecting a dubious air. "You're counting the giant snake?"

Hercules pointed to a jagged tear in the woven leather just above his knee as irrefutable evidence. "Why would I not count--" A sudden sound, a loud whoosh of air, interrupted him. They both looked around, puzzled.

It had sounded almost like a large tree falling, but there had been no thump when it hit the ground, and the wind was only strong enough to gently stir the leaves in the orchard. Baffled, Iolaus began, "What in Tartarus was--"

There was a loud splash from the direction of the pool and then a gravelly roar. Eyes widening, Iolaus looked up at Hercules, who was just as startled. They both ran back toward the fountain.

They pushed through the bushes to see a minotaur standing in front of the pool. It was a damn big minotaur, taller than Hercules and nearly twice as broad. The stench of it was heavy in the air. Iolaus drew his sword, tossing his scabbard aside. It would be nearly impossible to drive the blade through the armored hide over the creature's chest and back; the damn things were so tough they usually had to rely on Hercules' ability to beat them to death with a large rock. It glared at them, bull head lowered, working its hands, its narrow eyes devoid of anything but malice and rage.

Hercules moved to the right. "Here we go," he said, his expression grim.

Iolaus circled to the left so they could bracket the creature. "Where did it come from?"

His partner answered, "I don't know, but that pool had something to do with it. Its fur is still wet."

He was right, Iolaus saw. The thing's filthy fur and gray mottled skin dripped with water and slime from the surface of the old fountain. So it was hiding in the bottom of that pool? Iolaus thought incredulously. It took a swipe at him and he dodged backwards. Hercules shouted to draw its attention and it swung warily back toward him. It lowered its head to charge the demigod and Iolaus yelled, "Over here, ugly!" Its head swung back to him and the thing hesitated, a low rumbling growl growing in its chest.

Confronted with two tasty-looking buck humans, the creature's head swayed back and forth as it tried to decide which to eat first. If they were lucky they could keep it moving for a time, wear it down a little before going in for the kill. At least it's not talking, Iolaus thought. The ones smart enough to talk were awfully hard to beat.

They kept it moving back and forth for a time, Iolaus' quick movements and distractions allowing Hercules to get close enough to land several blows. Finally the minotaur lowed in frustration and whirled toward Hercules, charging him. Hercules twisted out of the thing's attempt to grab him and punched it across the muzzle as Iolaus rushed in, angling his sword for a hamstring stroke. The minotaur ducked Hercules' second punch, twisting away from Iolaus' blade with surprising agility. It caught Hercules with a backhand blow to the shoulder that sent him flying. Iolaus ducked a swipe from a clawed hand that could have taken his head off and did a rolling somersault to get out of reach, landing on his feet in front of Hercules to cover the demigod.

Hercules rolled to his feet and said grimly, "I think it's done this before."

"Yeah. It's been hunted, all right." Used to preying on shepherds or isolated travellers, minotaurs usually didn't know how to fight trained warriors. Iolaus could see he had managed to wound it in the calf, but that wasn't going to slow it down much.

It crouched, then charged them again. Hercules went low, throwing himself forward to meet it and butting the creature in the midsection. It staggered back, clawing at him, and Iolaus darted in, shouting and driving the sword in to the small vulnerable area at its neck. It jerked its head away and flailed one arm. Iolaus, expecting it to move toward Hercules again, misstepped and the blow caught him squarely in the chest.

It sent him flying and he landed on his back in the pool, losing his grip on his sword. He floundered and thrashed, then found his footing on the bottom, startled that the water was only chest deep. He splashed toward the edge, swearing.

Suddenly blue light exploded in front of him and he fell back, throwing his hands up to shield his face. He forced himself to look and saw the light was coming out of the pool itself, swirling around him like.... Like the doorway to the Sovereign's world. Oh no! Iolaus threw himself toward the edge of the basin, but he could already feel the pull of the otherworld passageway, dragging him down. Thrashing, fighting it with everything he had, he heard Hercules' shout of horror just before a roaring filled his ears and the water closed over his head.

Iolaus surfaced, sputtering and choking. He made it to the edge and dragged himself out, sprawling in the dirt and coughing up foul water. The passage you ran through was easier. He managed to sit up, pushing wet hair out of his eyes, one wild look around telling him he wasn't in Thespiae anymore. "I can't believe this happened again," he muttered incredulously. There had to be some heretofore unknown god of going to other worlds or involuntary transportation or something who had it in for him.

The pool was the same but there was no orchard, no gardens. The forest was bare and thin, the sky overcast and the air as cold as the high mountains of Arcadia. Instead of Gaia's temple there was a ruined building, covered with dead vines, and dry winter grass had buried the road. In some bizarre coincidence, a short distance away in the center of the clearing twenty or so warriors dressed in battered leather armor were fighting a huge minotaur, using long sarissai and weighted nets. The view was obscured by the dead trees and brush between the pool and the road, but he could see enough to know they weren't having an easy time of it. From their shabby clothes, ragged braids and motley assortment of weapons and armor, they were barbarian mercenaries.

Is that our other minotaur? Iolaus wondered. He looked back at the pool, brows drawing together. This is where that first one came from, then. It was why the two creatures were going back and forth from the woods to the pool. They were hunting near the temple and coming back here to this world to hide. He got to his feet, advancing cautiously forward for a better look. Herc and I were lucky to get the small one.

The beast was half again as large as theirs, its horns longer and gnarled with age, its gray fur long and matted. It was partly entangled in a large net still roped to some kind of framework in the high branches overheard. It was obviously a trap, but who in their right mind wanted to catch a minotaur alive? Near the ruin in a large wagon stood the heavy iron cage they must mean to use to transport the creature.

As Iolaus drew closer he saw a group of women, some barely out of childhood, clustered together in a frightened huddle near the far edge of the barren forest. For a moment Iolaus couldn't think why they didn't run for safety, or at least take shelter further from the beast, but then he saw the stone block and the chain. They were locked to it with iron rings around their ankles. Great, these guys are slavers too, he thought grimly. Then he took in the position of the net and the place where the women were chained. The bastards are using them as bait, he realized, furious.

Another net fell over the minotaur as it howled in rage and one of the warriors hoarsely shouted orders. Iolaus' head snapped toward the familiar voice and he stared, trying to remember where he had seen the man before. He was big, wearing a breastplate and other pieces of metal armor, unlike the rest of his men. His head was shaved and his face scarred.

It's Darphus, Iolaus realized suddenly. He felt a sensation of cold that had nothing to do with the chill in the air. Darphus had been a lieutenant in Xena's army when she was a warlord. In the real world he was dead; Iolaus had watched Hercules and Xena feed him to the War Dog. Then Darphus turned, his eyes finding Iolaus. There was a frozen instant, then recognition lit the warrior's scarred features and he pointed, shouting, "Get him!"

Two warriors charged him and Iolaus dropped to the ground and swept his legs around, knocking his first opponent to the knees. As the man struggled up Iolaus jackknifed back to his feet and snapped a kick into his abdomen, then punched him as he went down. Iolaus ducked a thrust from a spear, snatched a knife off the belt of the fallen mercenary, spun out of range and threw it at the framework holding up the large net. The knife struck the rope binding the frame to the tree branch, snapping it. The framework collapsed, striking the minotaur and a mercenary unlucky enough to be in the way. The minotaur staggered and roared, tearing free of the net and scattering the warriors. Laughing, Iolaus grabbed the fallen mercenary's sword and ran toward the prisoners. The warriors were too busy to stop him, trying to regroup as they rushed after the creature.

"Iolaus!" Darphus shouted suddenly.

Iolaus looked and froze. One of the warriors had a woman by the hair, holding a knife to her throat. The woman was Gabrielle.

Not the Gabrielle Iolaus knew. Her hair was ragged and her plain smock and skirt were torn and dirty. But both her hands were gripping the man's arm and her eyes were desperate and determined. One of the women still chained to the block cried out and was hurriedly hushed by the others. They were all village women, though like Gabrielle they looked as if they had been living under harsh conditions.

"Surrender or I'll tell him to cut her throat," Darphus grated.

Slowly, Iolaus straightened. He dropped the sword and two of the warriors ran forward to seize his arms. Three others closed in after them.

Darphus jerked his chin at one of the men, who stepped forward to search Iolaus roughly, finding his knife under the back of his vest. "So, Iolaus," Darphus snarled. "You thought you'd ruin my minotaur trap?"

So there's a version of me here too, Iolaus thought, unsurprised. He had been sure Darphus recognized him. Was there a chance of running into himself or had his counterpart fallen into the pool too and gone...someplace else? He lifted his brows. "Your trap is so clever I'm surprised you haven't gotten yourself and all your men killed yet. You really are just as dumb as you look."

The beast roared from across the clearing where the rest of the warriors uneasily held it at bay with their sarissai. Darphus's face went white under the dirt and he stepped forward, raising his mailed fist. The backhand blow rocked Iolaus' head back. He tasted blood from a cut lip and gave the warlord his best annoying grin. "Why do you want a live minotaur? What are you going to do with it, start a circus?"

Darphus smiled, showing blackened and broken teeth. "I want it for a weapon. Since conquering Rome wasn't enough for the Great Warlord, I've got to have a way to hold on to the piece I've carved out of Boeotia and Megara. It's only fair."

The Great Warlord? Iolaus thought, trying to conceal his shock. This must be like the world that had almost come to pass when Callisto had killed Alcmene, where Hercules had never been born and Xena had become the Destroyer of Nations. So Hercules doesn't exist here, and while Xena was off conquering Rome, Darphus took the provinces right on Corinth's doorstep? He wondered where this world's Jason and Iphicles were, and what had happened to Niobe in Attica, just to the east of Boeotia.

The warrior standing at Darphus' right hand had been staring like Iolaus had three heads. In a low voice he said, "That's Iolaus? We should kill him."

At least I have a reputation here, Iolaus thought ruefully. He eyed the warriors around him but none of them moved, waiting for Darphus' order.

"Not yet, Baric." Darphus glared at him. "Take him inside, out of sight. If he tries anything, kill the girl."

Baric cast another nervous look at Iolaus and protested to Darphus, "We need to get out of here. The Warlord is too close. Since he killed Ares, there's nothing to stop him in all of Greece."

Killed Ares, Iolaus thought, nonplussed. How? And Baric had said "he" so it wasn't Xena. The mercenaries were staring at him so he lifted his brows and tried to look like he knew what everyone was talking about.

"We're not leaving without the minotaur," Darphus said through gritted teeth. He eyed Iolaus again, pure malice in his expression. "Besides, he's too valuable to kill. We can sell him to the Great Warlord." Darphus stepped forward and grabbed a handful of Iolaus' hair, yanking his head back. "No telling how much he'll pay for you. They say his spies have been searching for you from here to Messene."

Oh, great, Iolaus thought, rolling his eyes in annoyance. Baric was turning white at the very idea of bargaining with this Great Warlord. So I'm a popular guy. He told Darphus, "You do that." He remembered a personal detail about Darphus that Xena had imparted one night after a few two many rhytons of wine and added, "Maybe he'll cut your other ball off."

Darphus' eyes bulged and his face reddened, to the point where Iolaus hoped the man would have some kind of seizure. The grip on his hair tightened, making Iolaus' back teeth hurt, then Darphus whispered, "If you weren't worth more to me alive...." Finally Darphus released him, stepping back. "Take him inside."

Baric gestured to the warriors holding him. Iolaus flicked a glance at Gabrielle; he was trapped while that knife was at her throat. He let the men haul him toward the ruin.

As they drew closer to it Iolaus realized with a shock that it was a temple of Gaia, the same one that stood in this spot in his world. There was no mistaking the round doorway, a feminine phallic symbol that marked Gaia's aspect as a fertility goddess and the mother of the world. The plaster and paint had worn off the cracked stone walls and the porch had collapsed, the caryatids lying broken and half-buried in the debris, but it was the same structure, set at the same angle to the road. The heavy wooden doors had fallen to either side of the entranceway and leaves and dirt almost covered the steps. "What happened here?" Iolaus said, not realizing he had spoken aloud until one of the mercenaries shoved him.

He ignored the provocation, too busy turning over the implications of this. He wondered what condition Thespiae was in, or if the town was even there at all. He had assumed Darphus was here to besiege it, but if this temple had been abandoned for years....

Inside the cella much of the roof had collapsed, leaving the hall littered with broken tiles, the wall paintings faded and streaked, the withered remnants of vines draped like curtains. At the far end the altar stone had cracked in half. From the stench that hung over the place and the droppings mixed with the dead leaves and dirt, he could tell the minotaurs had been using it as a den.

"In here," Baric said. The man's face ran with nervous sweat, but maybe he wasn't looking forward to wrestling the minotaur into that cage. At least some things are the same, Iolaus thought. Darphus is a crazy moron in this world, too.

They led him to one of the smaller chambers off the cella, where heavy beams had kept the ceiling intact.

"Keep her out here," Baric said to the warrior holding Gabrielle.

"She gets hurt," Iolaus told him, meeting his eyes, "you die first." He didn't look at her, not sure if these men were aware they knew each other or not.

Baric stared at him, wet his lips nervously, then gestured for the mercenaries to take him in. This room had been in use recently too, though not for the purpose it was originally intended. Hooks had been driven into the walls and the beams overhead and there was a pile of chains on the floor. Baric pulled a set of manacles out of the pile, tossing it to one of the other warriors. "Put those on him, loop it over the beam."

Iolaus weighed the odds again. He could see the warrior still had a firm hold on Gabrielle, the knife still dangerously near her throat. He didn't resist.

The man locked one manacle around his wrist, threw the chain up to catch on the beam overhead, yanking Iolaus' arms up to snap on the other manacle. He was drawn uncomfortably up, supporting his weight on his toes. It would be damn painful if he had to stay like this for too long. "What are you afraid of, Baric?" he said conversationally. He considered asking why the Great Warlord wanted him, but Darphus didn't seem to know about the otherworld doorway and Iolaus didn't want him to find out. They had enough problems at home without worrying about invasion from this place. It was bad enough the minotaurs were using the real Thespiae as a hunting ground.

"Not you." The warrior tried to sneer at him but it wasn't too convincing. He told one of the others, "You stay here. Watch him, but don't get close."

Iolaus watched them leave, then leaned on the chains thoughtfully, testing the strength of the manacles and the beam. His clothes were dripping filthy pond water onto the equally filthy floor. The man who had chained him up hadn't quite followed instructions and had looped the chain over a hook on the beam and not the beam itself. Baric was so unnerved he hadn't noticed.

At least this place didn't seem to be like the Sovereign's world, where everyone was the opposite of what they were in the real world. Darphus thought Iolaus was here to stop him from using the minotaur as a weapon, and that sounded like a great idea to Iolaus, so he had that much in common with his counterpart at least. And this Darphus didn't seem any different from the real Darphus, except for not being a dead invincible servant of Ares, and Gabrielle still seemed like Gabrielle. The Great Warlord who was evidently hunting for him was a nasty complication, but hopefully Iolaus would be long gone before that became a problem. He wondered if the man had really killed Ares or if that was just a rumor. Who could it be? The Blue Priest, Nestor, Sisyphus maybe?

He let his breath out, wishing the guard would get bored and come within reach or step outside to relieve himself so Iolaus could get on with it, but the man just stood there like a stolid lump. Iolaus yanked on the chains in annoyance. He was going to have to rescue Gabrielle, the other girls, and the damn minotaur before he even tried to make the doorway in the pool work again.

Iolaus wondered why Hercules hadn't tried to come after him yet. He would have had to deal with their minotaur first, but there had been more than enough time for that. Unless.... I just hope he's not wounded. Iolaus hadn't seen what had happened after the blue light appeared. If it had distracted Hercules at the wrong moment.... Frustrated, he said aloud, "Dammit, I don't have time for this." The guard flinched and stared warily at him.

Time passed and the light began to go gray and dim as twilight fell. Iolaus stretched as best he could, trying to relieve the tension in his shoulders and back. The guard, who had about as interesting a personality as a caryatid, refused to respond to any provocation, including a long insulting monologue on his ancestry and personal habits.

Then from outside the minotaur roared, the sound echoing through the temple. Men shouted, horses screamed in terror, and Iolaus heard a loud metal clang as something heavy struck the cage bars. He swore under his breath, hoping Gabrielle and the other women were all right. He could too readily imagine Darphus feeding one of them to the creature to calm it down. The guard was shifting uneasily too, glancing into the cella. Then he moved to the doorway, craning his neck to see out the front of the temple.

Iolaus leaned on the chains and tried to look helpless, or at least bored. The guard stared at him, brows lowered suspiciously. Iolaus held his breath. The man looked back toward the door, then stepped out into the cella.

As soon as the guard was out of sight, Iolaus grabbed the chain above his manacled wrists and hauled himself up until he could reach the beam. Curling his body upward, he hooked one knee over the beam, letting it support enough of his weight so with his free hand he could lift the chain off the hook. Free, he dropped lightly to the ground. His wrists were still manacled together but he had at least two feet of slack.

He flattened himself against the wall near the door, thinking come on, come on. He could hear the guard's boots making the dry vines crackle as he crossed the floor of the cella again. As the man stepped through the door Iolaus looped the chain around his neck and pulled tight. Choking, the guard tried to pry it loose, dragging him across the room, swinging him into the wall. Iolaus held on grimly, planting a knee in the man's back when he started to go down, keeping the chain taut until he collapsed on the stone floor.

Hurriedly Iolaus disentangled the chain and reclaimed his knife from the guard's belt. He inserted the tip into the lock and carefully probed, then popped it open. He wrenched the manacles off and picked up the guard's sword.

He slipped out of the room, crossing quietly to the temple's entrance and crouching at the edge of the round doorway. In the twilight he saw they had recaptured the minotaur and somehow wrestled it into the cage. The creature squatted there, just a large furry lump in the shadows, its red eyes glaring malevolently through the bars. A couple of mangled bodies lay in the dirt near the wagon, but both were Darphus' men. The others were rounding up the nervous horses.

The captured women were still chained up across the clearing, three warriors standing guard over them. Two warriors were trying to drag Gabrielle to join them and not having an easy time of it. With nothing but her own natural stubbornness, she was making them earn every single step. As Iolaus watched she caught one in the eye with her elbow, knocking his helmet off. When he dropped her she wrapped herself around the leg of the other one, biting him through a gap in his armor until he shouted.

Darphus must have used her as bait to lure that thing into the net, Iolaus thought. The bastard. Staying low, he eased out the door and crouched behind the rubble of the porch.

Darphus and Baric were standing across the clearing, speaking with a new group of warriors who had just arrived. One of them evidently told the warlord something he didn't want to hear; Darphus hit the man in the head with his knife hilt, sending him staggering. He shouted at the others but they were too far away for Iolaus to make out the words. A distraction, I need a distraction, he thought, looking around the clearing. His eyes fell again on the caged minotaur. Hah.

While all eyes were on Darphus or Gabrielle, Iolaus made it over to the heavy wagon. The minotaur snorted as he climbed up into the bed, the creature's restless movements masking any noise he might have made. Iolaus crept along, crouching low, glad the iron mesh was too small for the creature to get a paw through. The minotaur eyed him hungrily. He reached the cage door and saw he would have to stand to draw the bolt. He risked a look over the side of the wagon and saw that they had finally managed to get Gabrielle over to the other women and were trying to get a leg iron on her. Several men were bringing a team of horses out of the woods, heading toward the wagon.

Just in time. Iolaus stood and yanked on the bar. One of the warriors spotted him and shouted a warning but the cage door flew open and Iolaus swarmed up the bars. The minotaur burst out, making a grab for him just as he hauled himself atop the cage. He felt its claws graze his thigh, but unable to reach him it spun around and leapt down from the wagon, roaring at the approaching men.

The clearing suddenly boiled with confusion, the mercenaries shouting and running, the minotaur swiping at them and howling, the horses rearing and bolting. Iolaus jumped down from the cage, grinning at the chaos. A warrior rushed him and he parried two wild sword blows, then stepped inside the man's guard to punch him in the face.

From across the clearing he heard Baric shouting, "Darphus, we've got to go! It's the Warlord himself, coming here! If he finds us--"

Darphus shouted incoherently but caught a horse and swung up into the saddle. He rode off into the woods as Baric called for retreat and the surviving mercenaries scrambled for the other horses or gave up and ran into the forest. The minotaur apparently decided to call it a day too, taking one last swipe at a fleeing warrior, it galloped away up the road.

Iolaus ran toward the chained women, the few mercenaries who were left ignoring him as they tried to help wounded comrades or catch the last few horses. Gabrielle had a rock and was pounding on the lock that attached the linked manacles to the stone weight, while the others wrenched and pulled at the chain.

"Gabrielle, move!"

She threw a startled glance over her shoulder, then scrambled out of the way. Glad he wasn't doing this with his own blade, Iolaus swung the sword back overhead and brought it down on the chain.

The links snapped and with cries of relief the other women pulled on the chain, dragging it through the rings in their ankle manacles. Gabrielle jumped to her feet, squinting at him in the dim light. "How do you know my name?" she demanded.

Iolaus blinked, taken aback. So she didn't know his counterpart and her presence here was just some strange otherworld coincidence. "Uh, lucky guess," he managed. He stumbled as several young girls flung themselves on him in gratitude. It was a nice distraction but Iolaus could already hear hoofbeats from up the road. That's got to be the Warlord. "Not now, ladies," Iolaus said, disentangling himself and shooing them toward the forest. "You need to get out of here. How far away is your village?"

"Not far, we can make it!" A girl with short blond hair told him. "Come on, Gabby!"

Calling thanks, the others ran for the woods. Gabrielle took a step after them but hesitated. Turning back to Iolaus, she said, "Maybe I should stay and help--"

He had to laugh. She was still Gabrielle, no matter what had happened here. "Just go home, and hurry!"

"Right." She nodded, took a couple of steps away, then looked back again and said, "Thank you!"

"You're welcome. Go!"

The hoofbeats from down the road were louder and the last of the mercenaries had vanished. Iolaus took cover in the brush as Gabrielle and the others fled deeper into the dark woods.

A war party rode into the clearing, reining in as they reached the temple. There was at least thirty of them.

Iolaus crouched lower, cursing under his breath. He couldn't see much detail in the dim light but from the motley assortment of weapons, they must be more mercenaries. It's sure not the Hoplite garrison from Thebes, Iolaus thought wryly. The leader seemed to be a big man in a lionskin cloak. That had to be the Warlord himself. The lion's head formed a hood, disguising the man's features from this angle, but Iolaus did a double take, for a moment thinking there was something familiar about that figure. Nah, you're hallucinating, he told himself. He watched the man swing down from his horse and cross in front of the temple in long strides to stand over the mangled corpses the minotaur had left behind.

As the warriors dismounted and fanned out to search the clearing and more torches were lit, Iolaus realized two of them were centaurs. He frowned, startled. Centaurs would never hire out as mercenaries, at least in his world. Huh. Maybe....

Then a female voice called, "Search the temple!"

Iolaus' blood froze in his veins as he recognized that hateful voice. Callisto. His grip tightened on his sword hilt. Eyes narrowing, he watched her swing down from the saddle. One of the men lit a torch, the flare of light illuminating her form, and Iolaus snarled silently. She was dressed in leather armor and a fur cloak, her blond hair pulled back in braids, but the sharp profile was the same. Impossible to tell if she had managed to become a goddess in this world, or if-- If she had given herself to Dahak.

The shock of that thought was like a plunge in icy mountain water. Dahak might still be alive in this world.

Iolaus' eyes flicked to the pool where it lay hidden in the deep shadow at the edge of the clearing. If Dahak raged unchecked here it would explain Gaia's ruined temple and the barren forest, the story about the Warlord killing Ares, and why Darphus dared march an army to the center of Greece.

He had to make a run for it. It would be better to wait for full dark but if Callisto was a goddess or had Dahak's help, she could find him wherever he hid. He eased up into a low crouch and made his way along the edge of the trees, careful to move as silently as possible through the dry brush. Most of the activity was concentrated at the temple and the woods around it. When he was opposite the pool, Iolaus rose and bolted across the road. With luck....

"There!"

Swearing, Iolaus put on a burst of speed and reached the dead brush at the edge of the old orchard. A soft weight struck him, cords wrapping around his legs. He fell heavily, yelping in surprise. He rolled over, realizing it was one of the weighted nets Darphus' men had left behind. Ripping at the cords, frantic to free himself, he thought this may have been a really bad idea. Suddenly the big man in the lionskin cloak stood over him. Iolaus jerked back with a gasp, his eyes taking in studded leather armor, a heavy sword, a gold belt buckle that gleamed even in the bad light. He's.... He can't be.... The Warlord pushed the cloak's hood back and Iolaus saw his face. It was Hercules.

The recognition was mutual. "Iolaus!" the man said, his tone thunderstruck.

Not again. Tearing at the net and scrambling backward, Iolaus only managed a strangled yelp in reply. The net gave way to his frantic efforts and he made it halfway to his feet when the man leaned down and seized his arms, jerking him upright. Iolaus opened his mouth to gasp out a last curse before his neck was snapped and got as far as "You--"

Then a mouth was pressed against his, warm and hard, roughly forcing his lips apart. He tasted the other man's sweat and thought Oh, shit. He went limp, letting his head fall back, and when the Warlord pulled away, startled, Iolaus rammed his knee into his groin. The grip on his shoulders loosened and he knocked the man's arms away and twisted free. Flinging himself into a backward roll to get out of reach, he came to his feet and caught up his fallen sword. A warrior grabbed him from behind and Iolaus threw him forward over his shoulder, directly into the Warlord's path, forcing him to stop short.

Iolaus spat and wiped his mouth off on his gauntlet, rapidly assessing the situation. One warrior and a centaur blocked his way to the pool and more were fast approaching. It was time to get serious. He ducked a blow from the centaur's mace and whirled to block a swordthrust from the warrior. He parried a second blow, spinning into it to ram his elbow into the center of the man's chest, sending him flying backward. The centaur loomed over him and Iolaus threw himself under his hooves, rolling clear as he reared up in surprise.

Someone called out, "Sir, it's--!"

"I know that!" the Warlord shouted. "Get back, all of you. Don't--"

Iolaus, tossing aside another warrior who had tried to tackle him, thought, So here Hercules is the Great Warlord. The conqueror of Rome, with Callisto at his side? That sure explains why everything's gone to Tartarus, he thought grimly, flinging himself clear of another centaur's attempt to toss a net over him. He kneecapped the next warrior that came at him and spotting a clear path toward his goal, ran for the pool.

He was only ten feet short of the rim when the ground flew up and hit him in the face. He struggled to his hands and knees, the world reeling. Lifting a hand to the sudden burst of pain in his temple, his fingers came away wet and he realized someone must have clipped him with a missile from a sling.

Shouting men surrounded him and hands grabbed at him. He tried to fight but his arms and legs wouldn't obey him and the most he managed was wild flailing. He heard Callisto shouting and the clump of warriors around him suddenly backed away.

He looked up and saw the Warlord looming over him. Iolaus shouted "No!" and made a wild leap toward the pool. The abrupt movement was too much and everything went black.

***

It was full dark when Xena rode up to the temple of Gaia. Torches lit the portico and the balconies and people were clustered in anxious knots on the porch and along the road. She had expected activity since a minotaur hunt was in progress, but an uneasy hush hung over the place that set her nerves on alert. Oxen and mules lowed apprehensively from the barn, people spoke in quiet nervous voices. It should be over, she thought, frowning. They should be celebrating by now. Argo snorted worriedly and Xena patted her shoulder. "Easy, girl."

An amorphous dark shape appeared at her left stirrup, resolving into two Sisters of Gaia in deep green robes before Xena's hand tightened on her sword hilt. One pushed her hood back and moonlight touched hair white with age. The Sister said, "Warrior Princess."

Xena relaxed a little. "Yes."

The priestess pointed off the road, into the deep shadow of the gardens. Xena could see a glow of torchlight past the gnarled branches of the trees. Xena nodded. "Thank you."

She nudged Argo off the road and into the gardens. She could smell minotaur now and knew that was what had disturbed the mare earlier. Dismounting, she dropped the reins and picked her way toward the torchlight, leaves crackling underfoot, her stomach tight at the thought of what she would find.

She stepped silently through the brush into a small clearing ringed by fruit trees. Several torches on tall poles had been driven into the ground to light it. She was surprised to see Salmoneus, pacing and muttering to himself. His robes were dripping wet and stained with slime. A short distance past him Hercules stood in front of an old well or fountain, staring into it. Lying nearby was the corpse of a minotaur, dead a few hours at least. She saw Iolaus' sword, propped against a rock, but no sign of Iolaus.

Salmoneus jumped when she stepped up beside him, gasping with relief and clutching his heart when he recognized her. "Xena! What are you doing here? How'd you find out so fast?"

"I didn't." Gabrielle was visiting a friend who lived nearby and Joxer wasn't due back for another couple of days, and Xena had found herself at loose ends in Thespiae. She jerked her chin toward Hercules. "I heard they were here hunting a minotaur. What happened?"

"Well, thank the gods you're here," Salmoneus said in a low voice. "He's out of his mind -- well, not literally." He added darkly, "Not yet, anyway."

Xena took a grip on the collar of Salmoneus' robe and pulled him close. "What. Happened."

Unperturbed, Salmoneus explained, "We're not sure. Apparently, that pool's some kind of passageway to another world, and Iolaus got knocked into it by the minotaur and disappeared. Hercules said it was a blue swirly doorway. Does that make sense to you?"

"Oh, shit." Xena let go of Salmoneus' collar and stared at the pool, her brows drawing together.

"That's the general consensus. Hercules can't figure out how it works, which is odd, because apparently minotaurs were using it." Salmoneus shook his head, studying the demigod with helpless concern. "He's tried everything. We've been over every inch of it, inside and out, and the ground around it."

She stepped past him and crossed to Hercules' side. He was dripping wet too, slime and scum from the surface of the stagnant pool staining his vest, a weed trapped in his hair. He was also wounded, long deep scratches on his arms from a minotaur's claws. The cuts weren't bleeding anymore but they didn't look as if they had been tended, either. He acknowledged her presence with a sharp intake of breath and a nod. Xena studied the fountain, biting her lip. She said, "Not something on the bottom?"

He moved his head in a quick gesture of negation. He said, "I thought it had to be something he touched when the minotaur threw him in, but I've been all over this thing. Salmoneus looked too."

"You could have missed something. It would be easier to look if we drain the water."

"No. The water might be part of what makes it work."

"Hmm." He was right. Xena had seen a lot of strange things in her time but this was a new one on her; they couldn't afford to do anything drastic. She stepped forward and sat on her heels, trailing her fingers through the water. It smelled, and tasted, like ordinary stagnant water. She flicked the drops away. "What about Gaia? It's her fountain."

"I couldn't get her attention. I've never seen her before; she's not a very...social goddess. The High Priestess is still trying." He shook his head impatiently. "This fountain is older than the temple. In the brush over there I found a stone cover, broken in half. You can see the lip along the edge where it fit over the top."

Xena's fingers found the indentation along the rim of the stone basin and she felt a coldness travel up her spine. "They built a temple here to guard this pool." Gaia was a direct daughter of Chaos, older than the Titans, a slow-moving earth goddess, interested in growing things and fertility. She wasn't an Olympian, and she didn't treat mortals as playthings. For all Xena knew, she might not even have a human form; you never saw any statues of her. Her priestesses would be a perfect choice for the guardians of something powerful and dangerous.

Hercules indicated a string of illegible letters along the side of the basin with the toe of his boot. "That must have been a warning."

From behind them Salmoneus said, "Or the directions how to make it work. Remember, that time-travelling fragment of the Cronos Stone came with instructions."

Being reminded of the power of the Cronos Stone apparently didn't do Hercules any good. He rubbed his hands over his face and took a deep breath. "Don't panic," he muttered.

Salmoneus lifted his brows, bewildered. "I'm not panicking."

"I was talking to myself."

"Oh." The merchant gave Xena a significant look, jerking his head toward the demigod and nodding meaningfully until she glared him down.

Hercules was still staring at the pool. "There's got to be something.... If it's a doorway that was only open for a limited time...."

Xena wet her lips, looking up at him. "We need Autolycus." The King of Thieves was good at this kind of thing, though maybe "good" wasn't the word for it. Autolycus had a driving, compulsive need to open locks, figure out mysteries, get to places where he shouldn't go. And if a friend's life depended on it, he would puzzle out the pool's secret or die trying.

"That's right," Salmoneus seconded, hopeful again. "He's a paranoid freak, but he's great at this kind of thing. Have you ever seen where he lives?" He shuddered theatrically. "Everywhere, little gadgets and devices, all in pieces. It was the most deeply frightening experience I ever had, and since I've met you guys, I've had quite a few."

Hercules took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah. Let's send for Autolycus. Maybe I'm just not seeing what's right in front of me."

"I'll go," Salmoneus volunteered.

Xena caught his eye and jerked her head slightly toward Hercules. "Let me go. I've got Argo with me and I can travel faster." Whoever stayed behind would be mainly here to hold Hercules' hand, and Salmoneus was a lot better at that than Xena.

"Ah." Salmoneus nodded, catching her meaning. "Oh right, that's true, you better go."

Xena got to her feet, pulling her baldric over her head. "First, let me take a look at the inside. Maybe I'll find something you two missed." She couldn't get it out of her head that it was a switch or something that Iolaus had hit by accident when he fell in. It seemed the only logical explanation.

Hercules nodded, looking away with an annoyed snort and rubbing the bridge of his nose. Yeah, Xena thought as she dropped her scabbarded sword and stepped up on the rim. By morning he's going to be a bitch and a half. Then he would start muttering sarcastic comments aloud, acting as if the intended targets couldn't hear him. Xena couldn't figure out if Iolaus' presence alone was enough to keep that from happening or if Iolaus just spent a lot of time telling Hercules to shut up.

She leaned down, slipping off the edge into the cool water, feeling the disturbed scum wash over her legs as her boots touched the bottom. She turned to run her hands over the inside of the stone basin. Suddenly blue light flared up at her and a powerful force yanked at her from behind. It spun her around helplessly and she made a wild grab for the edge as her feet were swept out from under her. Then a more powerful grip seized her wrist and Xena clung to it with all her strength, realizing Hercules had managed to grab her flailing arm. Closing her eyes she turned her head away as foul water filled her nose and mouth.

Abruptly she was flung clear into clean night air. She landed heavily on something soft, like a wet bundle of laundry, which she identified as Salmoneus when it made a strangled noise of distress. She rolled off him, twisting around in time to see Hercules leap into the maelstrom of blue light that whirled over the pool. Xena threw herself forward, snatching up her sword and lunging toward the pool.

The blue light went out, as abruptly as a snuffed candle.

Xena slid to a stop, her momentum almost enough to pitch her in headfirst anyway. Hercules stood in the center, looking around in baffled anger. Incredulously he said, "It just stopped. I could feel it start to open, and it just stopped." He slammed both fists down on the surface, sending up a huge splash. "DAMN IT!"

Xena shook her head, baffled and beginning to lose her temper with this motherless pool too. Salmoneus struggled to his knees, and she caught his arm and hauled him to his feet. His voice hoarse, he said, "It's like it only takes who it wants." He stopped, alarmed. "Oh, you don't think...."

Xena stared at him, then looked down at Hercules. "That could be it."

Hercules sloshed to the edge, staring at the merchant. "Something controlling it." He leaned on the edge of the basin, his hands knotting into fists again, his eyes bleak. "The minotaur could have been a trap, to lure us here."

Xena shook her head slightly. She wanted to be sure of this. "Wait. Maybe it's because you're a demigod."

Hercules slung himself out of the pool, frowning at her. "Because I'm a demigod? Why would that--"

"How should I know? Why do these damn things happen in the first place?" She turned to Salmoneus. "Were you both always in the pool at the same time?"

He shook his head, gesturing that notion away. "No, no, we were each in it for a while alone, while the other searched the ground around it."

Xena frowned at the pool. "But we know it'll work for me." She slung her baldric over her shoulder, settling her sword back into place and checking the set of her chakram at her hip. "I'll go through and find Iolaus."

Hercules snorted in exasperation, throwing his hands in the air. "Xena, I can't let you do that. If it is a trap, and something is controlling it-- Or if it takes you to the Sovereign's world--"

"Everybody will think I'm a psycho freak slut." That had been the most flattering description Iolaus could manage of her otherworld counterpart. Maybe I can run into the bitch and kick her ass. It would be that poetic justice Gabrielle was always on about. Xena grinned at Hercules. "It'll be fun."

He let out his breath, studying her determinedly from under lowered brows. Xena's mouth twisted in annoyance. She demanded, "Why shouldn't I go? He'd go after me. Tartarus, you'd have to stand on him to keep him from throwing himself in there--" Even as she said the words, Xena registered the glint in Hercules' eyes and realized that was just what he planned to do to her.

She ducked under his grab and threw herself into the pool, landing near the center with a large splash. The blue light burst into life immediately, as if it had been waiting for her, like something cheated of its prey and determined not to lose it again.

She heard Hercules jump in after her, but knew he was too late as she felt the powerful force drag her down.

***

Iolaus came to, dizzy and sick, on the back of a horse. Everything was fuzzy and had an unnerving tendency to tilt to the right. His hands were bound in front of him and he was leaning back against the warm solid bulk of the person riding behind him. An arm around his waist, as unyielding as an iron bar, kept him from falling or flinging himself off. He knew instantly who it was.

The arm imprisoning him tightened, though not to the point of pain, and Iolaus made his tense muscles relax, letting his head loll back against his captor's shoulder and his eyelids close to slits, making his breathing slow and even. Every nerve in his body told him to fight but it was time to play dead for awhile, at least until his aching head stopped spinning. All right, think of a way out of this.

It was night and the full moon had risen, illuminating the road and the barren forest. The rest of the war party was riding in a loose formation around them. Squinting, Iolaus thought he recognized Callisto on one of the horses ahead, the moonlight glinting off her pale hair. Their pace was an easy walk; they hadn't had time to go far from the pool, then.

The air was biting cold and it was deathly quiet, except for the soft hoofbeats of the horses and the creak of saddle leather and harness. This country should be lush and teeming with life, but it felt empty, and there was something unnaturally hollow and dead about the night. He thought of Dahak and dead gods and an involuntary shiver went through him.

The warlord pulled the edge of the lionskin cloak over him. It covered his bound hands, and it might allow him to work at loosening the ropes without alerting the man. The movement of the horse would mask small motions, but he had to careful.

Fingers moved through his hair, and Iolaus thought make that very careful.

***

***

Xena surfaced into darkness, gasping for air.

She slung herself out of the pool, crouching and drawing her sword. The night was quiet, too quiet. No insects, no birds. Strange. Her eyes gradually adjusted to the pale moonlight and she saw the bare trees and dry brush. She crept forward cautiously, eyes narrowing as she saw the dark shape of the structure across the clearing.

Standing in front of it a few moments later, taking note of the shape of the doorway starkly visible in the moonlight, the size of the building, the broken caryatids, she swore under her breath. This silent ruin was a temple of Gaia, just like the one outside Thespiae.

She found a recently used torch and managed to relight it with her flints, then searched the temple first, oblivious to the cold and her dripping hair. It had been used as a prison, temporarily but recently. She found no trace of Iolaus and came out to prowl the clearing, trying to piece together what had happened. The puzzle was almost impossible to solve; there had been too many people and horses trampling up the ground. She found the marks of a heavy wagon and the spoor of a minotaur, and dirt stained with blood in several places.

Following this intriguing trail she suddenly came upon the remains of two men. The minotaur's hoofprints had ground into the bloody mud and entrails, and the faces had been smashed to pulp. The heavy smell of blood and death reached her a moment later.

Xena stood still as stone, intently studying the corpses. After a moment of close scrutiny she realized the blond one was too big, and let out her breath in relief.

More tracks led back toward the pool, and she was within a few feet of it when she found signs of a small battle in the disturbed ground, and one clear bootprint that she was sure belonged to Iolaus.

There was a smooth round stone lying nearby, a piece of shot for a sling. She touched it and realized there was dried blood on it, and a couple of strands of blond hair. She sat back on her heels, cursing. If Iolaus was dead, she needed clues to tell her who to take vengeance on, and she wasn't going back through that pool without the head of the man, god, or minotaur responsible.

She leaned down to study the tracks around the stone more carefully, reaching for a place to plant her torch in the soft ground. Gabrielle took it out of her hand and held it up for her. "Thanks," Xena said distractedly.

"You're welcome."

Xena froze for a heartbeat, then turned her head slowly toward the woman standing next to her.

It was Gabrielle all right, leaning over and holding out the torch, smiling inquiringly. Xena realized she had heard and recognized the footsteps on the dry grass and leaves as the younger woman had crossed the clearing, so accustomed to it that it hadn't even registered on her consciousness. Gabrielle was dressed in a village woman's smock and skirt, but her clothes were torn and dirty and she looked as if she had lost weight. Xena said slowly, "Gabrielle?"

The girl blinked and shook her head in amazement. "Why does every stranger I run into know my name?" she muttered to herself. She cocked her head. "Have we met? I'm from Potidaea and I'm just visiting here so I don't see how--"

"You don't know me?" Xena asked cautiously, getting to her feet.

"No. At least, I don't think so." She stepped back, looking a little worriedly at Xena's armor and sword. "You're not with Darphus, are you?"

"Darphus?" Xena spat. "That bastard's here? He should be rotting in Tartarus."

Gabrielle looked relieved. "That answers my question."

Well, this isn't the Sovereign's world at least, Xena decided. This Gabrielle looked and acted enough like the real one to give Xena a weird sense of connection with her. So this world was some kind of duplicate of their world, but with just enough of a twist to make things tricky. Like Darphus being alive. Xena looked around at the tracks in the disturbed earth, biting her lip in thought. "Darphus is a warlord?"

Gabrielle nodded. "Yes, he's taken over this whole province and part of Megara. That's funny, the way you said his name, I thought you knew about him."

Great, I needed that, Xena thought sourly. That explained why it looked like an army had been through here. How many times have I got to kill that son of a bacchae? She faced Gabrielle again. "Look, I'm searching for a friend and I think he was here. A man, blond, about this tall--"

"Yes!" Gabrielle bounced with excitement, making the flames of the torch dance, delighted to be of help. "I saw him, he rescued all of us from Darphus. He knew my name, too. How did-- ?"

"Where is he?"

"I don't know." Gabrielle gestured helplessly. "The other warriors got here and we had to run away."

"Other warriors?"

"Seia said they were from the Great Warlord's army. He just got back from conquering Rome, which is great, because at least now we don't have to worry about being invaded again. Seia's father said things will be better here now."

This is getting complicated, Xena thought, frowning. Darphus, Warlords, Rome. "Do they have a camp nearby?"

"A giant camp, everyone in Seia's village was talking about it." Gabrielle pointed up the road past the temple. "Just follow that road toward where Thespiae used to be and you can't miss it." She added, her expression turning hopeful, "I haven't been there to see it yet. Do you need any help? Because I could--"

Xena smiled to herself. At least some things are the same here. "Gabrielle, go home."

The younger woman looked deflated. "That's what your friend said, too."

"Well, he was right." Xena heard footsteps on the dead leaves somewhere in the woods behind them and tensed, her hand going to her swordhilt.

"Gabrielle?" A worried voice called. "Where in Tartarus are you?"

"That's Seia," Gabrielle explained. "She doesn't think I should be out here." She said this as though it was some bizarre notion on Seia's part that no one else could fathom.

"She's right." Xena smiled. "Go home, Gabrielle." She turned away before she could reconsider, moving swiftly away into the darkness.

"Good luck!" she heard the girl call out behind her.

***

Iolaus heard voices ahead and opened his eyes a slit, still keeping his body limp. His captor hadn't relaxed his hold on him once, but Iolaus had managed to fray his bonds until he could twist out of them, given the opportunity. It was just the opportunity that was lacking.

The wind had come up a little, cold and dusty, but the road was no longer empty. In the darkness ahead he could see lamps bobbing around a large wagon. From the angle it was resting at its rear wheels must be trapped in a low spot. He expected the Warlord's men to attack, but when the riders to the front of the group reached it he couldn't hear any fighting, just quiet talk. Nearer and he could see it was piled with bales and large amphorae; it had to be supplies for the camp. The wind brought the smell of smoke and horse dung and he knew they must be close.

The Warlord guided his horse past the group of men struggling to shift the rear wheels and Iolaus shut his eyes in case the lamplight fell on his face. When he risked a look again he could see they were on a rise at the edge of the forest. The moonlight revealed the road winding down toward what should have been empty grassland; instead it was filled with the fires of a vast camp.

It seemed to stretch for miles. A fortified wall of bound tree trunks and packed earth surrounded it, with defensive barriers of ditches and sharpened stakes, like a Roman fort. Past the wall light from fires and torches reflected off tents, what must be hundreds of them, and in the center a giant one, like the travelling tent-palaces the nomads of the steppes used. Uh oh, Iolaus thought, feeling a coldness settle in the pit of his stomach. Darphus hadn't been lying; this was an army large enough to take Rome.

There was a loud crack of wood from behind, men cursing, horses snorting and stamping. The Warlord shifted restlessly, and must be impatient at the delay, knowing he could free the trapped vehicle in moments. Come on, come on, Iolaus silently urged him. He felt the man turn to look back toward the wagon, felt the grip on his waist loosen.

In the instant of distraction, Iolaus twisted abruptly sideways, flinging himself off the horse. A wild grab to recapture him ripped a swatch out of his vest but he hit the ground and rolled under the startled horse as it reared and danced sideways. Iolaus came to his feet, ripping his hands free of the loosened ropes, and ran for the trees.

He heard shouting from the warriors and hoofbeats behind him, but his headstart was too good. Suddenly another horse was in his path, cutting off his escape route. Callisto flung herself out of the saddle at him in a wild tackle. Iolaus braced himself and caught her by the straps of her armor and rolled backward, using her own momentum to fling her over his head and into the path of the Warlord's horse, charging up on him from behind. She landed with a loud cry. The horse reared, just managing to avoid trampling her.

Too bad, Iolaus thought, bouncing back to his feet. But her interference had cost him the time he needed. A warrior sprang into his path, swinging a sarissa at him. Iolaus ducked the blow, grabbing the shaft and kicking the wielder in the head. It slowed him down just enough for two more to rush him. He knocked one sprawling with a blow to the helmet from the heavy iron lance point and stopped the other with a hard jab to the belly with the butt. He wheeled and swept the legs out from under the one coming up on him from behind, but the others had already spread out to surround him.

Iolaus spun the sarissa to keep them at a distance, watching them warily. They had the disadvantage of wanting to capture him alive, which gave him the advantage of.... Well, not much advantage at all, unless he could somehow manage to hold himself hostage. Behind the circle of nervously shifting men, the Warlord controlled his rearing horse and swung down out of the saddle as Callisto stumbled to her feet.

A footfall on the packed dirt behind Iolaus alerted him and he spun, whipping the sarissa around. He caught the warrior running at him in the center of the chest with the blunt end, knocking him sprawling.

"All of you, stay back," the Warlord shouted harshly. He gestured and two of the warriors hurried to light torches from the lamps on the wagon, washing the road in warm yellow light that threw the starkness of the dead trees into even sharper contrast. Iolaus squinted, trying not to be blinded by it. The sudden light wasn't doing his pounding head any service, either. The Warlord stepped forward, his men edging aside to make room for him. His voice rough with anger or some other strong emotion, he said, "Give up, Iolaus, you can't get away."

"That's your opinion," Iolaus answered, sounding much more confident than he felt. He wet his lips, shifting watchfully on the balls of his feet. He couldn't read this man the way he could Hercules; his body language was subtly different. It was why Iolaus hadn't recognized him from across the clearing. The abruptness in his movements and the rough tone in his voice was too much like the Sovereign and it made Iolaus' nerves itch.

Callisto hovered warily at the Warlord's side, shifting her grip on her swordhilt. There was something different about her too, but it was hard to tell what it was in this light. She's not throwing fireballs, at least. Maybe she wasn't a goddess here yet. She said something, low-voiced, that Iolaus didn't catch. The Warlord made a sharp gesture, silencing her. He said, "Just put the weapon down. You know you don't want anyone else to get hurt."

"Don't bet on that," Iolaus snarled, thinking, yeah, I'm in trouble. Too bad his counterpart here didn't have a reputation as a ruthless killer. He needed to think of a plan that included something besides stalling, right now. His eyes flicked around the clearing.

Something moved in the darkness above the Warlord's head. Iolaus' expression must have changed because the Warlord spun around, following his gaze, and shouted, "Harpies!"

Horses screamed and the warriors scattered as the creatures hit the clearing, diving and slashing at the running men with clawed hands. Iolaus swore and dropped to a crouch, making himself a smaller target, knowing that running would only draw the creatures' eyes. They were the biggest harpies he had ever seen, the span of their mottled brown and red reptilian wings as wide across as the length of the trapped supply wagon. Their faces were vaguely human, but with large oval eyes glowing yellow with malice and double rows of sharp teeth.

Instinct burned, demanding that Iolaus throw himself into the battle, but he forced himself to hold still. The Warlord drew his sword, spinning to slash upward at a diving harpy. She did a midair roll to avoid the swordstroke and blundered right into a centaur's ax. The other harpies were all occupied and it was time to get out of here. They don't need any help, Iolaus told himself sternly, rising slowly to back toward the shelter of the trees.

Then another harpy stooped on a lone warrior, her claws tearing through the man's armor. The warrior yelled and fell, rolling, and the harpy landed near him, her claws poised to rend. Iolaus swore, grabbed up a rock and threw it at the creature's head.

The harpy bobbed in the air and the rock struck her neck instead. The creature's head snapped around, her wide inhuman eyes narrowing as she spotted Iolaus. For a confused instant Iolaus thought those red eyes lit with recognition, then she left her wounded prey without a second glance and leapt for him.

Uh oh, Iolaus thought, backpedaling rapidly, jabbing at the advancing creature with the sarissa. She recoiled, swiping at the lance point and tearing it out of his grip, knocking him sprawling. Iolaus hit the ground hard, scrambling desperately out of the creature's reach. Her claws raked the air bare inches from him as he dove between two trees.

Temporarily thwarted, the harpy leapt back into the air as Iolaus bounced to his feet and bolted further into the forest. Okay, it's official, everything here is trying to kill me, he thought, leaping over fallen logs and ducking low branches by instinct rather than sight. And it wasn't happening in the random way it usually did back home; that harpy had come at him specifically, ignoring helpless wounded prey.

Iolaus heard a loud crash in the branches overhead and skidded to a halt, fetching up against a broad trunk. He reached for his knife before remembering it was gone. He rolled his eyes, flattening himself back against the tree and trying to be invisible. Oh, great. I'm fighting a harpy, in the dark, unarmed. When he related this adventure to Herc, he would imply that he had had some kind of plan that made this make sense.

The torches had wrecked his night vision and he scanned the darkness overhead, waiting impatiently for his eyes to adjust to the moonlight. He could still hear distant sounds of battle from the road, shouts and the death screech of one of the other harpies.

Then something ominously large stirred the dry branches high in the tree and Iolaus eased down, feeling around on the ground. His fingers found a good-sized broken branch just as a little shower of dead leaves and broken twigs rained down on him. The wood against his back quivered and he knew the harpy was climbing down the tree toward him, probably head first. He stepped away cautiously, trying to keep his movements silent.

Branches snapped and cracked and all he could see was a large dark form as the harpy sprang out of the tree at him. Iolaus crouched, bracing the broken branch against the ground. The heavy body dropped over him, the scaly, foul-smelling skin of one of her wings brushing his face, then she struck the end of the branch.

Iolaus felt a wash of blood over his hands as the wood drove deep into the creature's chest. The harpy recoiled with a screech of agony, yanking the branch out of his grip. He threw himself into a backward roll as she lurched forward, screaming shrilly, long arms clawing for him. Iolaus ducked, dodging backward frantically, but a large clawed hand caught in his vest and dragged him off his feet. He yelped as the claws dug into his shoulder, grabbing the creature's arm as she lifted him up. He kicked at the end of the branch still lodged in her chest.

He struck it dead on and felt the wood jab deeper into the creature's body. With a shriek, she yanked him close and her other hand grabbed his waist, her wings flapping as she tried once more to lift off the ground. He struggled to twist out of her grip, prying at her claws. Then she toppled forward.

The harpy collapsed, slamming Iolaus into the ground and flattening him as she landed heavily atop him. Pain shot through his head and the thing's warm weight was suffocating. Only the desperate need for air kept him conscious enough to fight to free himself. He wriggled far enough to get one badly needed breath of the sweet cold air as her wing lifted in a last reflexive attempt to escape. Her grip on his shoulder and waist tightened convulsively, then he heard the death rattle in her throat and the huge body went flaccid. He shoved at the wing pinning him, digging his heels in, and managed to drag himself free.

Dazed, Iolaus rolled over and lurched to his feet, the voices and hoofbeats from nearby reminding him that being crushed to death by a dead harpy was only one of his problems. But the dark landscape swayed dramatically, then went completely upside down. After a moment he figured out that this was because he lay sprawled on the ground.

Then someone was lifting him up.

Things got vague after that and very confused. Finally the cold night air revived him enough to realize he was on horseback again, being taken through a camp. The heavy logs of a large stockade, people, flaring torches, horses, barking dogs, tents passed in vague blurs and it was a struggle to keep his eyes open. He got one oddly clear picture of a guarded compound, with prisoners, men and women, even some children sitting in huddled groups inside. He tried to turn to get a better look as it went past, but was pulled back around before he could see any more.

The horse was reined in near a huge tent. The entrance was guarded by warriors in helmets and bronze armor, the lamplit interior veiled by colorful hangings. The torchlight played on dozens of Roman Eagles, driven into the ground around the entrance. Iolaus abruptly remembered that he didn't want to be here.

Things got hazy again after that. He remembered connecting with a punch and feeling bone crunch under his fist and biting somebody unwise enough to try to get a stranglehold on him. Now he was being carried and the view was inconveniently upside down again. The place was all hushed voices and flickering lamplight. He caught sight of carved chests piled to the side, some of them open and spilling gold and gems in careless heaps.

Some indeterminate time later he was aware that he lay on something soft. His head ached, a lot, almost enough to distract him from the fiery pain in his shoulder. At least he knew he wasn't dead. Being dead hurt in different places.

There were people taking care of him, which was vaguely reassuring. Cool cloths rested on the center of the throbbing in his head, hands soothed him when he stirred restlessly, and he was warm for the first time since he had come through the otherworld passage.

Then he heard Hercules' voice. Iolaus turned his pounding head and managed to get his eyes open, watching the room swim into blurry focus. He lay in a low, wide bed, piled with furs and cushions. This was a room in a tent, lit by firelight from a center pit and bronze lamps hanging from the framework overhead. There were two women he didn't recognize standing in the shadows near the draped entrance, talking softly. Iolaus tried to sit up, but a knife stabbed through his skull and he collapsed back into the furs with a muffled yelp, rolling over and burying his head in his arms. He felt the cushions shift as someone sat next to him and a hand moved over his bare back. He realized he wasn't wearing his vest, which made some kind of vague sense because he remembered something about having wet clothes. He cleared his throat and managed to say, "I had a strange dream."

Hercules said, "It's all right, just lie still."

That was a nice idea, but Iolaus was sure there was some place he should be trying to get to, something he was supposed to be doing. He persisted, "Did you get the minotaur?"

Then from nearby a woman said, "He's awake?"

Callisto.

Iolaus froze, memory returning in one confused burst: the pool, Darphus, the Warlord. He gasped, blinked hard, levering himself up enough to stare at the man leaning over him. "That's not you."

"Easy, don't--"

Iolaus jerked away from him, scrambled backward across the bed. He fell back against the tent wall behind it but it was tanned hide, stretched tight between tree-trunk sized poles, as unyielding as wood.

The Warlord came to his feet, the light gleaming off the brass and iron-studded leather tunic he wore. Callisto stood behind him. She had a black eye and a darkening bruise across her badly scraped cheek, probably from landing face-first almost under the hooves of the Warlord's horse.

Someone shouted and several warriors burst through the draped doorway. The Warlord swung around, ordering harshly, "Stay back!"

The warriors halted and Iolaus took advantage of the distraction to dive off the end of the bed. A wave of dizziness followed the abrupt movement but he managed to stay on his feet. The only exit was the doorway now blocked by the warriors. The framework holding up the lamps and the tent roof didn't look strong enough to support him and the walls were too thick to go through in a hurry, even if he could get hold of a knife. He noticed the scratches from the harpy had been tended and they had even cleaned the blood out of his hair. His own clothes were gone and he was wearing a pair of black silk pants. So what am I here, he thought in exasperation. The Warlord's favorite slave boy? At his age that was getting a little ridiculous.

The Warlord turned back to Iolaus and held up his hands, advancing slowly on him. "Iolaus, calm down. Don't panic." The man made his voice low and soft with an almost visible effort. It made him sound more like the real Hercules, but this close Iolaus could see the differences: he looked a little older, a little more weathered, the lines in his face deeper. His hair was darker and longer.

Iolaus watched him warily, backing away though the chamber wasn't large and he was fast running out of room. He said, "Give me one good reason why not." His head was pounding hard enough to make blackness flicker at the edges of his vision.

"You don't know what you're doing." The Warlord stepped forward slowly.

Iolaus saw him tense to move and dodged backward and sideways, putting the firepit between them. "Keep your hands off me," he growled.

One of the warriors stepped forward to block his escape route. Iolaus flicked a glance at him. Big, young, overconfident. The warrior hadn't drawn his sword yet, so they must still have orders not to hurt him.

The Warlord started around the firepit cautiously. "Iolaus, you can't get away."

An older warrior appeared in the doorway, took in the situation, and told the others, "All of you, stay where you are." The man was tall, strongly-built, olive-skinned, with an eastern cast to his features and long dark hair braided and tied back from his face.

Iolaus backed away from the Warlord's slow advance, keeping his eyes on him, pretending to be unaware of the young warrior behind him. Then he whipped around and launched himself for the sword at the warrior's belt. He snapped a punch into the startled man's face, his free hand closing around the hilt. The others leapt for him but he wrenched backward, yanking the sword free of the scabbard, ducked under the Warlord's wild grab and spun to put his back to the corner.

There was a surge toward him but the Warlord flung up his hands and shouted "Stop!" Everyone froze, staring at him.

Iolaus waited warily. The sword was small comfort, trapped as he was in a small enclosed space facing a dozen warriors and a demigod. There had to be a clever way out of this, but his head was aching so badly he could hardly think.

The moment stretched, then the Warlord planted his hands on his hips and shook his head in exasperation. "Oh, thanks, Diocles, that was very helpful," he said to the dazed and bloody- faced man on the floor. The Warlord rubbed his forehead wearily and gestured to the older warrior. "Borias--"

All of you, out," the dark-haired warrior snapped. He punctuated the order by hauling up the wounded man by a strap of his armor and propelling him into the next chamber. The others followed, casting uncertain glances back. Only Callisto didn't move.

The Warlord looked at her. "You too," he told her. She hesitated, staring at him, her eyes wide in that fake wounded look. The Warlord didn't buy Callisto's deceptive little girl expression either. He stared her down grimly, until she turned abruptly and strode out. She paused for a heartbeat, her back to them, then she jerked the drape closed behind her.

The Warlord took a deep breath, turning back toward Iolaus. He composed himself with visible effort, then said carefully, "Iolaus, just calm down. You're confused and you don't know who you are."

That stung in a way the man couldn't have intended. "No, no, I am not confused. I've been confused and I know what that's like." Iolaus added through gritted teeth, "I know exactly who I am."

The Warlord didn't look convinced. He said, "No one here is going to hurt you."

Iolaus snorted skeptically, then winced at what that did to the throbbing in his skull. "Somebody tried to crack my head open with a sling," he reminded the other man.

"That was one of the new recruits; he didn't know who you were." The Warlord eased forward a step.

"Stay back," Iolaus warned him. The wash of heat from the fire made cold sweat trickle down his chest, stinging in the cuts from the harpy's claws. And if he doesn't, what are you going to do?

As if he had read his mind, the Warlord said confidently, "You won't kill me."

Iolaus hesitated. You should have grabbed a hostage while you had the chance. No, the Warlord had said before the harpy attack that he knew Iolaus didn't want to see anyone else hurt; he would know he wouldn't kill an unarmed hostage. Iolaus needed a real threat and that left him with only one option.

Steeling himself, Iolaus drew a sharp breath and tipped the sword back toward his own throat. "Then I'll fall on it myself."

He must have looked just fey enough to do it, because the Warlord's face went still, and he stopped easing forward. After a moment, he wet his lips and said, "Just let me talk to you."

Iolaus stared at him. For a heartbeat it was like facing his Hercules. He could read the man's fear for him from his eyes and the shift in his body. Iolaus shook the odd feeling off irritably and grated, "Then stop trying to grab me and talk."

"Fine. Put the sword down."

"We go outside the fort wall to have this conversation, and I'll put the sword down," Iolaus countered.

"I can't do that. But I swear I won't come any closer, if you just calm down and listen to me."

"I'm perfectly calm." But the fever-bright images of the camp returned to him: the legions of armed men, the prisoners in the compound, the looted treasure. "Why do you have an army anyway?" With a quick flick of the sword's point he indicated the draped doorway, where he was sure Callisto still waited. "And why is she with you?"

The Warlord shook his head. "Look, you've lost your memory-- "

"I haven't! I'm not--" From this place. Iolaus managed to cut the words off just in time. "I'm not confused," he finished. He could tell he wasn't convincing anybody with that one. "Just tell me what's going on like I...just got here and I don't know anything."

The Warlord stared at him, then let out his breath in resignation and ran his hands through his hair in an achingly familiar gesture. "Where do you want me to start?"

Good question. Iolaus needed to check his assumptions about this place. "With who you think I am."

"Who I think-- All right, all right." He held up placating hands. "You're Iolaus, from Thebes."

"Go on," Iolaus allowed cautiously.

"I'm Hercules, the son of Zeus."

At least this guy didn't have the Sovereign's aversion to the name. He was smarter than the Sovereign, too. Of course, there were pickled mollusks smarter than the Sovereign. It just meant that if he lied it would be convincing. "Uh huh."

"After the gods' war--"

"Wait, wait. There was a war with the gods?"

"Yes." Realizing Iolaus still had no idea what he was talking about, the Warlord added, "Zeus against Hera."

"Oh." That wasn't an unreasonable possibility by any stretch. And war among the gods would explain the too harsh winter, the ruined temple. Iolaus prompted cautiously, "And you were on which side?"

"Zeus!" The flicker of wounded annoyance was so familiar Iolaus felt his heart twist from pure homesickness. The Warlord shook his head slightly and added, "We won, but many of the gods were killed. Hera destroyed Demeter, Persephone, Hephaestous--"

"Aphrodite?"

"No, Hephaestous made a shield that protected-- You remember Aphrodite?"

"No." Iolaus shook his head. "Just go on, Ares was on Hera's side and you killed him?"

"Yes. You remember that?" the Warlord asked sharply.

"No!" Iolaus put aside the urge to ask about the others, Cupid, Psyche, their baby. This wasn't his world; it didn't matter. "What happened after that?"

"When we were still recovering from the gods' war, Rome attacked. It took years but we fought them off. We knew Caesar would never stop, so we took the battle to them." The Warlord drew a deep breath. "We won."

"Who's 'we?'"

"You and me," the Warlord explained impatiently. "Borias, Ajax, Ulysses, Amphion, all the others. We assembled an army from all the kingdoms in Greece. It still wouldn't have succeeded without the alliance with Egypt, but that's not important right now."

He's been searching for you from here to Messene, Darphus had said. Iolaus had assumed that meant his counterpart was the Warlord's enemy. If what the man was telling him was true, the chances that he was going to get out of here alive and get home had just increased dramatically. As long as he thinks you're the right Iolaus. He thought of the two names conspicuously absent from the list of allies and asked, "And Jason and Iphicles?"

A shadow of old pain crossed the man's face, almost too swiftly to be read. His voice sharper, he said, "No, not them."

"Xena?"

This time the man's confusion was evident. "Who's that?"

So Xena isn't in this world? Wait, that warrior Borias.... Iolaus had thought the name was familiar. The father of Xena's son Solan had been an eastern warlord called Borias. He had been killed in Xena's war against the centaurs, when he had turned against her and tried to convince her to make peace. If that's the right Borias, and Xena isn't here.... Maybe her brother had never been killed, and she was living an ordinary life somewhere, or as ordinary as possible in this strange world. Like Gabrielle. Xena and Gabrielle never met. Had never been tricked into going to Britannia to release Dahak into the world.

For the first time since he had seen Callisto in the torchlight across the clearing, Iolaus felt like he could draw a full breath. The relief made him dizzy. He saw the Warlord was watching him intently. And Xena never raided Callisto's village. "What happened to Callisto's family?" Iolaus asked carefully.

"Her village was one of those taken by the Romans and we found her in a slave column on its way out of Greece. There were people from a dozen villages in it, but her parents and her sister weren't there. She hoped they were in Rome, but after we conquered it there were thousands of freed slaves and she couldn't find them." The Warlord added deliberately, "She's been with us since the day we liberated that slave column. She's practically our daughter."

That thought still made the bile rise in Iolaus' throat, but this had to be a different Callisto. Not having to watch her family burn to death had kept her from madness, and the continuing hope that they were alive somewhere must have changed everything for her. And after all, this wasn't him they were talking about.

"Iolaus, listen to the rest," the Warlord said quietly. "There's something out there. I've been fighting it since I crossed back into Greece. It must have sent those harpies. It's got some kind of ability to control them."

Iolaus' eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What is it?"

"I don't know, but it's powerful. It can effect people too. It makes them act insane. It sent a whole village against my cavalry when we were building this camp, unarmed farmers against experienced troops. We were able to take more than half of them alive, but...."

This sounded frighteningly familiar. Dreading the answer, Iolaus demanded, "It's not trying to start its own religion, is it?"

"No." The Warlord looked momentarily baffled, but evidently decided it wasn't worth pursuing. "It makes people forget who their friends are." He watched Iolaus with sharp concentration. "That's what it did to you."

Iolaus shook his head impatiently. "No, that's not--"

"I sent you into this. There were rumors of trouble back home, so I sent you to scout ahead. That was three months ago. It must have captured you--"

"No," Iolaus said in annoyance. "I told you-- Just let me think." If this story was true.... If this thing could make the harpies do its bidding, then why not minotaurs, too. It could have sent them through the pool, set a trap for he and Hercules. It might have captured his counterpart from this world, though Iolaus was pretty sure Darphus had seen him recently. But if the Warlord was lying to him.... "Show me something that proves all this is true."

The man hesitated, then nodded. "All right, I will. But put the sword down first."

Iolaus bit his lip. That almost sounded reasonable. If there was a chance he could actually talk to this man, convince him to let him go.... And he couldn't hold him at bay by threatening to kill himself too much longer without actually having to do it, something he would rather avoid if possible. Iolaus lowered the sword, then stabbed it into the dirt near the fire.

The Warlord drew a relieved breath and nodded to himself. "All right. Come with me and I'll show you your proof."

Iolaus followed him through the draped doorway and into the next chamber, warily staying out of arm's reach. The outer room was large and round, the giant support pole in the center holding up the peak of the tent. Some of the panels had been lifted, giving views into a maze of lamplit rooms. Borias was the only one waiting for them, sitting on his heels near the firepit. Iolaus could hear people moving and talking in hushed voices past the hide walls and knew the other warriors would be nearby. The Eastern warrior flicked an enigmatic glance at them as he got to his feet. "All's well?" he asked.

"It's...better," the Warlord said cautiously.

Iolaus knew that tone. "I am not crazy," he said grimly. He looked around the chamber again. More of the big bronze lamps hung overhead and the ground was covered by carpets and furs, with a couple of couches and chairs near one draped wall. On the far side of the hearth was a big trestle table covered with maps and scrolls. Behind it, dumped carelessly in a pile, were several large wooden chests with coins, gems, and jeweled wine vessels spilling out, and near that a Roman campaign chair, carved and gilded enough to belong to an Emperor. Maybe it had.

Thinking about the loot and all it represented, it took Iolaus a moment to realize the familiar hand resting on his shoulder was the Warlord's and not Hercules'. He twitched away, falling back a step and glaring up at the man suspiciously.

The Warlord's mouth twisted and he looked away briefly. "Sorry."

Iolaus eyed him warily. He didn't know what was more disturbing, the ways the man was different from Hercules or the uncanny similarities. The Sovereign had been such a bizarre contrast that it was impossible to see him as anything except a completely different person; even the physical resemblance hadn't seemed to matter. This was just...weird. Maybe Herc had felt something like this, the short time he had travelled with the other Iolaus. Except the other Iolaus is completely harmless and this guy could get mad and snap you in half. Time to change the subject. "What's that for?" Iolaus nodded to the carelessly piled loot.

The Warlord looked at the chests, his eyes hooded. "To rebuild Corinth."

"Oh." It's not your Corinth, Iolaus told himself. It still gave him a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Gods or Romans?"

"Romans."

Iolaus glanced up at him sharply. It was strange to hear that kind of hate in Hercules' voice, though it wasn't as if either one of them thought much of Romans. Iolaus looked again at the treasure. He wasn't sure how he felt about this. It was still sacking a city, even if it was Rome. He shook his head, reminding himself there wasn't anything he could do about it now.

Borias was watching them both, his dark eyes worried. He said quietly, "There are rumors running wild all over the camp. Some of the men saw him fighting when you brought him in."

"Tell them he was hit in the head, that he was delirious," the Warlord said. He glanced at Iolaus and added dryly, "It's the truth."

Iolaus decided to let that one go, considering how much his head still hurt and that all the lamps looked like they had halos around them.

"Iolaus?"

The cautious voice was Callisto's. He stiffened as she stepped into the room through another doorway on the far side. Her eyes were wide and worried. She said, "What happened to you?"

It was hard to look at her. He kept seeing Alcmene's burned body. It was strange beyond reason that memories of an event later averted should still be so painful, but there it was. The desolation of digging that grave for Alcmene and Hercules while the odor of charred flesh hung over the farmyard had been real, even if later it never happened. That this wasn't the same Callisto didn't seem to matter either. He turned away from her, unable to make his expression any less grim. "It's a long story."

Saying, "Wait here," the Warlord crossed the room to her and took her arm, drawing her back through the draped doorway despite her protest.

Iolaus watched him go. If he was wrong to trust this guy, he was in so much trouble it wasn't even funny. He glanced at Borias, then decided to take the chance for some more information. Iolaus asked, "What happened to Xena?"

Borias' head jerked toward him, eyes narrowed. "She's dead," he said roughly. "What do you know of Xena? I never told--"

"How did she die?" Iolaus demanded, startled. He had been counting on Borias saying "Xena who?" which would mean she was probably still living with her family in Amphipolis.

"With our child in her."

Iolaus winced and looked away. His wife Ania had died of childbed fever, not long after their second son was born. "In Chin?"

Borias was staring at him, as if he couldn't quite believe he was having this conversation. "No, the steppes."

Iolaus nodded to himself. That fit what he knew of Xena's past.

Borias started to speak but stopped abruptly. The Warlord stepped back into the chamber, saying, "Borias, can you stall the envoy from Parthia....Borias?"

"What?" Borias looked at him, then nodded, cast one more hooded glance at Iolaus and strode out of the chamber.

The Warlord looked after him, frowning, as if he had picked up on the eastern warrior's disquiet. His own expression almost as hard to read, he gestured for Iolaus to accompany him.

As they moved toward the outer entrance Iolaus saw the tent was like a small mobile version of the palace at Corinth, with rugs, camp stools, and braziers instead of heavy carved furniture and mosaiced floors, woven hangings instead of walls and tapestries. He took note of the number of guards and the people who hurried to get out of the way or stared curiously as they went past. The warriors who were evidently the Warlord's bodyguard, who made up the numbers of the foot and cavalry units that would stand next to him in battle, all seemed to be quartered here, along with their families and the scribes, advisors and priests needed to serve an army this size.

As they neared the entrance, the Warlord said, "Borias was right, there are rumors all over camp. Will you give me your word you won't...cause a disturbance?"

Iolaus thought that over. "Yes." When I escape, I'll do it real quietly.

The Warlord looked down at him, brows drawing together.

Stepping outside Iolaus took a deep breath of the cold night air and felt the swimming sensation in his head abate a little. The guards at the doorway stared, perhaps at seeing Iolaus tractable after his earlier entrance, but quickly saluted the Warlord.

They were near the center of the camp. Smaller tents spread out from the large one in haphazard circles. Catapults and other siege engines lit by torches towered in the distance and there seemed to be sentries all along the walls of packed earth and tree trunks. There were a great many warriors sitting around the cooking fires in front of the tents but also a lot of people who obviously weren't, and children played in one of the open areas not far away, giving the place more of the appearance of a refugee camp. It made sense if the Warlord was telling him the truth; many of these people would be freed slaves, following the Greek armies home.

As they walked, Iolaus kept catching disorienting glimpses of faces he thought he knew from Corinth and Thebes. That had to be Clitus' cousin supervising the unloading of amphorae from a heavy wagon. Even more disconcertingly, people were staring at him and the Warlord. Pointing, nudging each other, talking behind their hands.

Iolaus twitched when the Warlord spoke suddenly, "This is the first time most of them have seen you."

"Oh?" He made the question casual, but suspicion tightened his gut.

"Most of them joined us after you started back. But they've heard of you. That stunt you pulled when you escaped from the Coliseum...." The Warlord almost smiled.

The Coliseum? Oh, I don't think I want to know. Iolaus rolled his shoulders to ease the tension in his muscles and tried to ignore the attention. It was going to be doubly hard to escape with everybody knowing who he was.

He saw the Warlord was leading him toward a small stockade that looked as if it had been had been hastily knocked together. He realized abruptly he had seen it on the way in: it was the prisoner compound. Iolaus threw a quick suspicious look at the Warlord; as if the man had sensed it he said, "These are the villagers that attacked us when we were building the camp."

They reached the compound and Iolaus wrinkled his nose at the stench of unwashed bodies and overloaded privy. He glanced at the guards and stepped up to the wooden bars. The stockade was filled with men, women, children. Like the local refugees who had crowded the temple of Gaia back in the real world, except their eyes were blank and staring, their clothes ragged and dirty. They sat on the cold hard ground of the enclosure, most of them not even taking advantage of the shelter built over the back half, or the blankets that lay piled near the walls. These could be some of the same people who had been at the temple back home.

Iolaus stepped back from the stockade, taking a deep breath. "You don't know what did this?" he asked.

"No. I was hoping you did." The Warlord's voice was neutral and it was impossible to tell what he felt.

Iolaus shook his head slowly. It could be Dahak; confusing people was its specialty. But it wanted worshippers, not mindless animals. This seemed like something else. "Do they even feed themselves?"

"They did yesterday, but they stopped this morning." The Warlord looked to one of the guards, who nodded in grim confirmation. He added, "It's as if something controlled them like puppets, and now that they aren't any use any more, it's just dropped the strings."

"Only the one village so far?" Iolaus asked.

"So far."

This has to be stopped. Iolaus thought longingly of this morning, when all he had to worry about was being eaten by a minotaur. The Warlord was watching him and Iolaus realized he was being asked if he had seen enough. He nodded and the man started back to the tent.

From the Warlord's hard expression it was impossible to tell what he was feeling. That was another difference between this man and Hercules. Herc didn't hide his feelings; what you saw was what you got and that was the way Iolaus liked it.

The Warlord glanced at him as they reached the tent again. "You're bleeding."

Iolaus looked at the reddening bandage on his shoulder and scratched at it absently. "It's all right. I don't need--"

But the Warlord was already turning away. He glanced around the front area of the tent, singling out one of the retainers waiting there. "Nicias. Send for the healers."

Iolaus started to bridle, at the peremptory tone if nothing else, then decided to let it go. Temporary cooperation, no matter how annoying, would help him get his chance to escape. He shrugged, then winced as the movement pulled at his wound. "Okay."

The Warlord looked at him again, eyes narrowed suspiciously, but didn't comment.

Iolaus regretted the concession when he found himself herded right back into the central part of the tent and deposited in the room where he had first woken. He sat impatiently on the bed as a woman wearing an Asclepias snake amulet patched up his shoulder again. The healer had two young and beautiful assistants whose only jobs apparently were to hold the water basin and hand her clean bandages. He avoided their eyes because they seemed to expect him to recognize them and he hated to disappoint them. The Warlord hovered for a time, but left reluctantly when someone called for him from the outer room. Iolaus sighed in relief and rubbed his eyes with his free hand. Maybe now he could think.

He looked around, hoping to find something useful. There were no weapons in this chamber, though there was an empty sword stand against the far wall. He suspected that anything remotely helpful had been removed when he was still unconscious. The woman finished bandaging his shoulder and Iolaus said hopefully, "I need my clothes back."

The three women exchanged a look over his head, then the older one said, "They're being washed."

"Great." Well, at least he had a pair of pants; he had escaped from worse situations while wearing less. "I had an amulet. Where's--"

She pointed to a carved chest and Iolaus went for it immediately, finding his amulet resting on top, the leather cord coiled around it. He replaced it around his neck with relief, then lifted the lid of the chest. It contained only blankets, no weapons. Damn. He got to his feet again, noticed the women were staring at him curiously and gave them an innocent smile.

One of the women handed him a robe and Iolaus shrugged into it. It was heavy black silk with a soft brocade on the shoulders. The material was so fine it caught on the callous on his hands as he automatically pushed the sleeves up. He realized they weren't too long and looked down to see the hem didn't drag the ground either but hit him just at the ankle. It might have been made for him. Oh right.

The older woman herded the others away and Iolaus went to the doorway to the outer chamber. The Warlord was sitting on a stool speaking to Borias and two older men who had to be generals, a middle-aged woman in the regalia of a priestess of Artemis, and two younger Amazon Warleaders. Other warriors stood guard at the doorways, or relaxed in the rooms beyond. It would be interesting to see what would happen if this world's Iolaus decided to pick tonight to come back from his extended scouting mission. You just thought it was complicated before. That was if the guy was even still alive. He has to be in trouble, or he'd be back already. And now that you're here the Warlord will stop looking for him. I have to get out of here soon, before I make things worse for both of them.

A chance of escape tonight was unlikely, Iolaus reluctantly admitted to himself. The Warlord would be keeping too close a watch on him, the warriors of his bodyguard too alert after the harpy attack, and the whole camp was restless. He had to act as ordinary and non-crazy as possible, let the Warlord relax his vigilance, and pin his hopes on tomorrow.

Iolaus stepped out into the larger chamber and wandered casually over to get a look at the maps still spread out on the table. Thespiae, the nearest large town, wasn't marked at all. He wondered grimly if it had been razed by Romans or gods. The camp was marked on it, as well as the ruined temple of Gaia, the villages, and the probable locations of Darphus' camps. Iolaus planned a route back to the temple that would avoid the road and any other trouble spots. He noted peripherally that he was receiving curious glances, though no one seemed to ask any questions. Presumably everybody had heard the cover story, whatever that was. From what he could hear they were discussing Darphus, talking over reports from the many spies planted among his troops, plotting the positions of his men, planning their attacks on his camps.

There was a sudden hush and Iolaus looked up. Callisto stood in the entrance to the chamber. She had put off her armor and wore a loose long tunic. Iolaus eyed her suspiciously. It was surreal to see her enter a room without causing a panic, to see the priestess of Artemis look up from her seat on the cushions and smile in greeting. He suddenly realized what it was that seemed different about Callisto: her face wasn't gaunt and she didn't have that skeletal thinness, as if every nonessential ounce of flesh had been burned away by her rage.

She watched him a moment, then looked away, going to sit on the rug next to Borias' chair.

Iolaus shook his head and looked again at the map. Now just why did Darphus want that minotaur? he wondered. A minotaur might be an effective weapon against a village or small town: release it on a rampage, then plunder the place once everyone had fled. But it was useless against an army this size. A minotaur on the field of battle was going to find itself riddled with arrows and crossbow bolts before it got near the front line. Darphus might be half mad, but he had wasted a lot of men and time and effort on trying to capture the thing, while the Warlord positioned his forces to surround him.

Glancing up, Iolaus noticed the Warlord had stopped listening to the general who was speaking and was staring at him. Abruptly Iolaus realized he had been unwittingly pacing in front of the table like a caged animal. Self-conscious again, he plopped down on the furs near the fire. The Warlord stared at him a moment more, then shook his head abruptly and turned back to the general. Iolaus sighed and rubbed his eyes, reminding himself to be less conspicuous.

Gradually the activity in the tent settled down, becoming less like a disturbed anthill and taking on a more normal rhythm. A steady stream of scouts, messengers, and lieutenants came in to report or receive orders. There was no word on whatever had turned the villagers into mindless slaves, but what Iolaus did hear was food for thought enough.

A small advance force had reached Corinth and set up camp and allied with the villages in the area: the first step towards rebuilding the city. Once Darphus was defeated and the mystery of whatever was infecting the people of this area solved, the main camp would shift to Corinth, leaving only a garrison here. There was also a message from Orestes, still alive in this world, that he had arrived in good order in Attica with his forces and that Queen Niobe was well, having held the province with only minor troubles from bandits and petty warlords.

The Warlord, dictating his answer to a scribe, looked up suddenly and asked, "Do you want to send a private message with this?"

"Huh?" Iolaus glanced up, startled, realizing the room was silent and the question had been directed at him. Of course. Orestes is your cousin here, too. "Ah.... No. Not right now. I'll send something later."

The Warlord hesitated, then nodded. The talk resumed and the uncomfortable moment passed. Iolaus let his breath out slowly. So this world's Iolaus had had the chance to get to know his royal cousin, but perhaps had never fallen in love with Niobe, an experience Iolaus wouldn't have forgone even though it had ended badly. It was strange how things worked out. The discussions continued, Callisto leaving first with Borias, the priestess and the two Amazons departing to be replaced by others with messages or reports. After a time the activity in the tent wound down and Iolaus found it hard to stay awake. His headache had faded to a tight knot in his temple that didn't hurt unless he touched it. He was starting to drift when a step on the carpets nearby made him tense.

The Warlord hesitated, then sat down next to him. It was the hesitation that kept Iolaus where he was long enough to remember his resolve to appear as cooperative as possible. The hesitation that was so like the real Hercules, pausing to try to decide if he was doing the right thing or interfering.

"Are you all right?" the Warlord asked softly.

"Fine," Iolaus said automatically, unable to prevent himself from leaning away from the other man. There were still people in the chamber, a few warriors and a couple of women talking quietly, pretending not to watch them.

He twitched at a gentle touch on his hair. The Warlord said, "I was worried about you."

His voice was so normal, so matter-of-fact, Iolaus felt the tight line of tension between his shoulder blades ease just a little. The Warlord did nothing else, just sat there, and Iolaus made himself take a deep breath and relax. It wouldn't hurt his escape plans, if the guards watching thought everything was back to normal.

It was warm in this chamber now that most of the drapes were in place, and it smelled homey almost, the scents of woodsmoke and good lamp oil and cooking and well-used leather armor familiar and welcome. Home. Iolaus sighed again, scratching the beard stubble on his chin. Herc probably thinks I'm dead, he thought guiltily. He should have turned around and gone right back through the pool when he had the chance. But he couldn't have left Gabrielle and those other women prisoners, or let Darphus have the minotaur.

One of the messengers returned with a question from a sub- commander and as the Warlord answered him, he casually dropped his hand to the back of Iolaus' neck. The familiar gesture from this man in this situation just unsettled Iolaus further; he stiffened, but bolting up at this point would draw too much attention. Normal, Iolaus reminded himself. Calm. Like somebody who could talk his way into going out with a scouting patrol tomorrow morning, for example. The Warlord was rubbing the tense muscles at the base of his neck with gentle firmness, and Iolaus let his eyes drift closed and his head fall forward, pretending to relax.

After a time it was hard not to relax for real. His fatigue, the warmth from the fire, and the sure touch on his abused muscles combined to turn his insides to jelly. No matter how well he thinks he knows you, Iolaus reminded himself, a little disturbed by his own reaction, you don't know this guy at all.

But it was hard to resist the distraction from his own painful reflections. He had been trying not to think about the possibility that Hercules had been injured or killed by their minotaur, but the thought had been hovering in the back of his head. It would explain why Hercules hadn't tried to come through the doorway in the pool after killing the thing. Or the doorway only opened that once, for you. If it wouldn't open for him again.... But he would rather be stuck here where he didn't belong than think that Hercules was dead. The Warlord was gently combing his fingers through Iolaus' hair now, absently freeing a sweat-matted tangle, and it felt so natural he hardly noticed.

Iolaus felt warm breath and a nuzzle at his ear, tickling him. He snorted and pulled his head away. "Stop it." Abruptly he realized he had been coaxed into leaning back against the man's chest, that the warm solid weight his hip was comfortably resting against was a leather clad thigh, that there was a heavy arm around his waist.

The Warlord must have felt his sudden alarm, felt his body gather to make a convulsive move to escape, because his arm tightened, pinning Iolaus against his chest. "Easy, easy," the Warlord said quickly, as if he was soothing a frightened animal. "It's all right." He took Iolaus by the shoulders and set him forward, releasing him.

Iolaus shot him a confused, wary look. Being grabbed he knew how to respond to; this was harder to handle. He was trembling from the surge of reaction and his body thought he should be either fighting or running.

The Warlord studied him intently, his expression closed and impossible to read. "I'm sorry. You said my name and I thought...."

Iolaus swallowed and looked away. Yeah, I did, but it wasn't your name. He realized the room was empty now, the curtains closing it off from the rest of the tent, that the fire had burned down a little. It was quiet, though Iolaus could hear soft voices somewhere and a thread of lyre music. How long have we been here? How long did I sit there and let him pet me?

A hand under his chin turned his head back to face the other man, the light touch carefully calculated not to set off any reflexive resistance to physical force. The Warlord said, "I heard it in your voice when you said my name. Whatever it is that happened to you, it's wearing off. You're remembering."

"No." Iolaus wanted to shake his head but he couldn't make himself break contact with the urgent look in those suddenly familiar blue eyes. The warmth, the tension, the touching combined with the intensity in the other man's gaze suddenly made the blood rush from his head. Oh, great. He definitely didn't need this right now. He started to pull away. "That's not...."

"You're so close to the edge, let me push you over." The Warlord leaned in, sliding a hand into his hair, gently arresting the escape attempt.

"It's the wrong edge--" Iolaus protested vaguely, just before the man's mouth covered his. The hand that held his head was still gentle, but the kiss was deep and demanding, the need in it exposed and raw. Something in that need drew him like a moth to a flame. He had felt that pull, that connection to this man, earlier and thought it was nothing but a trick of the mind, like imagining you saw water under the desert sun. This was far stronger, so intense it shook him to the core. He felt his resistance melt, so much so he barely noticed when a hand slipped to the small of his back and tugged him closer.

He thinks you're someone else. You can't do this. Iolaus broke away, scrambling to his feet, but once there he couldn't seem to make himself do anything else. He swayed a little, blinking uncertainly as the room seemed to go dim. The Warlord was suddenly standing in front of him, holding him upright with his hands on his shoulders. Acutely aware of the familiar power of the hands steadying him, the warm bulk of the large body leaning over him, Iolaus backed away. "Look, I don't think...."

The man followed him. "Don't think what?" He drew his hands down, molding the thick silk to Iolaus' chest, then slid his hands inside the robe.

As the calloused palms moved against his ribs, Iolaus tried to wriggle back but he bumped into the trestle table. "That this is a good idea. I mean, not a good idea. I mean--"

Without breaking eye contact, the Warlord reached behind him to push the maps and scrolls off the table. "If it helps you get your memory back...."

"My memory isn't the problem." The Warlord's hands tightened against his waist, lifting him and setting him on the table. Uh oh. This was happening too fast but trying to think past his own growing arousal was increasingly difficult. The man pressed against him, pushing his knees apart. "And...." Iolaus began, tearing his gaze away and trying to gather his scattered wits.

"What?" the Warlord murmured into his hair as he leaned close, one hand absently stroking Iolaus' bare stomach just above the laces of his pants.

Iolaus managed to say, "And...I've got a headache." He caught his breath as the Warlord brushed his hand against something else he had that invalidated the headache excuse.

The Warlord chuckled a little breathlessly. Iolaus ducked an attempt to capture his mouth again, but the man nuzzled his temple instead, working down toward his ear, tugging gently at his earrings, finding every sensitive spot. A hand stroked his ribs, sliding down over his hip.

I can't do this, Iolaus thought again, even as his back arched in involuntary response. Shouldn't. There was a huge difference between "can't" and "shouldn't." Iolaus gripped the edge of the table, trying hard for self-control. The man used that moment of concentration to find his mouth again, determinedly coaxing his lips apart. On the other hand.... There was no other hand. If the other Iolaus was dead, then this was cruelty of a caliber to make Hera proud. If he wasn't, when he returned the Warlord would quickly realize he had been with his lover's double. I've got to stop this, come up with a good excuse. Iolaus wrenched his head away and gasped, "I'm not who you think I am."

The Warlord stared at him blankly and Iolaus winced. He hadn't meant to blurt out the truth, but he was stuck with it now. "I'm not your Iolaus," he persisted, leaning back to try to put some badly needed distance between them.

"What?"

He hastily pushed the Warlord's hands off his thighs before he changed his mind. "I can't do this. It's not like we've never-- But that's different. You and the other me -- that isn't an open relationship!"

The Warlord sighed, planting his hands on either side of Iolaus' legs and leaning on the table. "Iolaus, this creature," he began, his voice reasonable but a touch uneven, "whatever it is, confused you and made you lose your memory. If--"

"No, I told you, that's not what happened. I--" He took a deep breath. Here goes. "I'm from another world."

The Warlord stared at him, nonplussed. "Another world?"

"Another world. Like when there's a storm and the blue swirly thing appears in the air near Ares' big temple...." He trailed off, seeing the look of incredulous incomprehension on the other man's face. But Ares was killed, and they've been out of Greece for years, so even if the doorway to the Sovereign's world ever opened here, they weren't there to see it. "You don't know what I'm talking about, do you? You don't have the blue swirly things here?"

The Warlord rested his forehead against the top of Iolaus' head. "Oh, no."

The closeness, the scent, the body heat, almost undid Iolaus' resolve. "I am not crazy." He made himself pull back so he could see the other man's face. "This was a different kind of swirly thing, anyway, in a pool near the temple-- If you just let me go back there, I'll show you."

The Warlord said patiently, "It isn't true. It's just something this thing, monster, whatever it is, made you think. If it wants you to lead us back there, it's because it's a trap."

Iolaus gestured in exasperation. "I don't know what this thing is you're fighting, I don't know if it has anything to do with the pool, but I know where I came from and where I'm supposed to be, and this isn't it."

The Warlord shook his head. He put his hands on Iolaus' shoulders, squeezing gently, rubbing his thumbs on the skin just below his collarbone. "Iolaus, you are exactly where you're supposed to be."

"No, I'm where somebody else is supposed to be." Iolaus wriggled and pushed the man's hands away again, before the temptation to give in could grow. "Look, if you've never heard of Dahak, then how did I get this?" He touched the long, almost invisible scar over his heart. "If what you say is true than your Iolaus doesn't have this scar."

"You got that when Mother was killed, when Hera's minions captured you and--" The Warlord hesitated, his expression going distant. "When they sacrificed you to Hera."

"Oh, great." Iolaus took a deep breath. Just once I'd like to find an alternate version of myself who's a farmer with six kids and has never been out of Thebes. Then the rest of what the man had said registered. "Alcmene was killed?"

The Warlord leaned on the table, closing his eyes for a moment. Steeling himself against the memory. "When I stole the chalice from Hera's cave. She sent Blood Eyes to kill me. But I wasn't there. I was taking the chalice to Zeus' temple in Argos."

Iolaus felt sick. He remembered that day years ago, when Hercules' desperation to attract his father's attention had led him to violate one of Hera's sacred places. Hercules hadn't really understood then just how much his stepmother had hated him. "She sent them to the farm."

"You remember?" the Warlord asked sharply.

"No. I just...know what Hera's like. What happened?"

The man took a deep breath and looked away. Finally he said reluctantly, "You and Jason fought them. Hera killed Mother with a fireball. Jason must have tried to push her out of the way, or put himself in front of her, and he was killed too. The Blood Eyes had taken you to Hera's temple. I went after you, but I was too late, and I found you on the altar with a knife in your chest."

"Oh." It was strange to think of. That was the year Alcmene had extended her garden, Jason had started his formal training as Crown Prince, and he and Hercules had been occupied with games, competing with each other and the rest of the cadets at the Academy, and making Cheiron's life interesting by finding even more creative ways to get into trouble. "How did you get me back?"

"Zeus came to me there. It was the first time I ever saw him. He said he couldn't bring Mother and Jason back, because Hera had killed them herself, and he couldn't undo what another god had done. But she had no right to demand you as a sacrifice, because you were sworn to me and even though I was only half a god, it still counted. So he brought you back."

"Huh." Iolaus remembered the Warlord's reaction when he asked about Jason and.... "Iphicles is dead too, isn't he? Hera killed him?"

"Ares." The Warlord looked away again, the memory still burning in his eyes. His gaze returned to Iolaus and he asked abruptly, "Are you all right?"

Iolaus rubbed his face. "Yeah. I was just...." He shook his head, focussing on the most important thing. Both he and his counterpart having the same damn scar was an almost frightening coincidence and no help to proving his identity. His scar had been the product of a powerful, god-aided Egyptian healing spell, at least from what Hercules had told him. Iolaus had no memory of it, being still dead at that point and not occupying his body at the time. It was so faint, it looked as if the wound was years old instead of only months. "Look at me, aren't I different? There's got to be something!"

"No. Well.... But I haven't seen you in three months."

He threw up his hands in exasperation. "Oh, great. I get smacked around by a minotaur, a dead harpy falls on me, and now I find out I'm interchangeable. That makes this whole fucking day complete."

"Iolaus, just calm down."

"I don't want to calm down." His plan to play along until he could escape, such as it was, was ruined anyway. "Would you rather me be crazy than right?" he demanded, then shook his head in frustration. "It doesn't matter if you believe me or not, I can't do this. You'd hate yourself for betraying him, and I'd hate myself for letting it happen."

The Warlord sighed in weary annoyance, but stepped back. Iolaus let his breath out in relief and hopped down from the table. He had somehow managed to disengage the "argue with Iolaus" reflex and trip the "higher moral ground" reflex. He glanced down. "Excuse me? At what point did my pants start getting unlaced?"

The Warlord pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut in irritation. "You were kissing me back."

"Oh, fine." Iolaus threw his hands in the air, exasperated beyond belief. There had to be something he could do convince this guy.... "Look, just.... The last time you saw me was in Rome? There was nothing after that?"

"Ostia," the Warlord corrected, annoyed, "and no, after that there were messages, contacts with our people here. I didn't lose track of you until a month ago. You sent a message from Anticyra, saying you were going to check out a Warlord named Karis in this area, that there were rumors he had tamed harpies working as scouts for him. That was the last I heard from you."

Iolaus looked up, distracted by the familiar name. "Karkis?" The Butcher of Thessaly had a way to control people, but if those villagers had been eating lotus, it would have worn off a few hours after they got away from the stuff.

"No, Karis," the Warlord insisted.

"Oh." Karis rang a bell too, but a dim one. Iolaus couldn't think where he had heard it before. "Are you sure--"

"Yes."

"Are you sure it wasn't--"

"Yes, I'm sure," the Warlord said, nostrils flaring. "You were the one who sent the message--"

Iolaus planted h