The Ninth Plague

Part 1: Greece

"I even remember Iolaus. He used to hang around some big guy...uh...name escapes me." The Lost City

"So, what was in the letter?" Iolaus asked, picking up his wine cup. He and Hercules were sitting at a rough plank table in the shady yard of an outdoor tavern in Lechaeum. The afternoon sun was bright and the breeze cool, stirring the leaves on the beech trees. There were only a few customers at the other tables, travelling merchants and some locals. The diners occasionally called greetings to the people who came along the path up from the village, a cluster of houses around a fountain square just down the hill. It was a pleasant place and the food -- roast fowl and a lentil stew -- was the best they had had in a long time. After weeks of travelling through the mountains hunting bandits and one bad-tempered giant, it was a pleasant novelty to eat something that they hadn't had to stalk and kill.

"Letter?" Hercules stared blankly at him.

Iolaus took a swig of wine and set the cup aside. "The one from Iphicles." A courier from Corinth had finally caught up with them this morning to deliver it; from the weary look of the man, he had been pursuing them for some time.

"Iphicles?"

Preoccupied with scraping up the last of the stew with a hunk of bread, Iolaus prompted absently, "Big dark-haired guy, King of Corinth, your brother?" He added in exasperation, "The letter in your hand?"

Hercules looked down at the object in question, as if he had forgotten its existence. Brow creased, he said slowly, "It's not from Iphicles."

"Oh." Iolaus frowned slightly, his attention finally shifting from the food to the conversation. He regarded Hercules thoughtfully. "It's got the palace seal on it."

"Iphicles sent it for someone. It's his seal but the enclosure isn't from him." Hercules folded the parchment, still distractedly frowning at it.

Iolaus was beginning to get genuinely worried. He knew how to recognize Hercules in I don't want to tell you something that will upset you but I can't in good conscience keep quiet about it so I'll just seize up, unable to resolve this dilemma mode. He suggested uneasily, "Nobody's dead, are they?"

"No, no," Hercules said hastily. "It's not...bad news." He turned the folded letter over, running a thumb along the crease.

If it wasn't bad news, it was doing a damn good impression of it. Iolaus was half-tempted to just grab the letter and get it over with, but maybe he really didn't want to know the contents. "But it's not good news?" he persisted, watching Hercules warily.

"It's definitely news." Hercules drew a deep breath, wincing in apologetic anticipation, and took the plunge. "It's from Nebula. She's coming to Corinth."

Iolaus sat back on the bench. He felt like someone had punched him in the kidney. Actually a punch in the kidney would have been preferable, since he knew exactly how to react to that. "Oh."

"Or--" Hercules glanced at the folded letter again, as if he hadn't already memorized it, "Considering when this was written, she's probably already there." He winced again.

Iolaus picked up his wine cup, saw it was empty, and put it down. He didn't know how he felt. "It's an embassy, from Sumeria to Corinth." Maybe it was just that, maybe the letter was to explain that she didn't think they should see each other.

Hercules nodded. "And she wants to see you."

Iolaus still didn't know how he felt, so he decided to go with his gut reaction. He shook his head. "I can't."

Hercules thought about it a moment, then said carefully, "I think you should try."

Iolaus got up and strode a few steps away, leaning against the nearest tree, looking out over the forested hill, the river, the prosperous little village, seeing none of it. He had told Hercules once that he blamed himself for what had happened, so he knew Nebula should blame him too. And that maybe he blamed her, whether he should or not. "Why can't she just stay in Sumeria and I stay here?" he demanded, frustrated. "That's worked out really well so far."

"You have a lot of things...unfinished between you. Maybe it wears on her." Hercules eyed Iolaus thoughtfully. "I know it wears on you."

Iolaus threw him an irritated look. "I'm fine. There's nothing wrong with me." After a moment of steady regard from Hercules, he added defensively, "Anymore."

Hercules let his breath out, leaning back and folding his arms. "It's up to you."

Iolaus swore under his breath. That's the problem. For a moment he wished that Hercules was the kind of demigod who would have destroyed the letter, taking the decision away from him for his own good. Except if that was the case Iolaus admitted that he probably wouldn't be here right now, having stormed off in a fury some twenty-odd years ago. "This is hard, all right?"

"I know." Hercules hesitated, absently rubbing at a scar on the wine-stained tabletop. "What do you think is going to happen?"

Iolaus ran a hand through his hair in frustration. At worst, he thought Nebula would accuse him of cooperating with Dahak, of willingly letting it use him, and he would have to take responsibility for a lot of things he hadn't done, couldn't remember, and would rather cut a couple of his own limbs off than have done. At the other worst, he thought he would try to explain what had happened, she wouldn't believe him, he would get angry, and it would all go to Tartarus from there. At best.... There wasn't an at best. "I don't know. If I knew--" If he knew, it would still be something he had to do. "I hate it when you're right about things like this," he snarled unfairly at Hercules. "It's so damn inevitable!"

Hercules nodded glum agreement, which didn't help at all.

***

The palace of Corinth had a postern gate in the side wall, reached by a wide dirt path through an olive grove. It was late afternoon when Hercules and Iolaus reached it and the ground was dusty and sun-dappled under the trees. It was a great day for fishing, or swimming off the long beaches that framed the harbor entrance, or for having a late lunch in one of the taverns near the river and taking a wineskin off under the trees for a nap. Though Iolaus admitted to himself that he would have cheerfully accepted an invitation to muck out a pen full of incontinent pigs rather than have this meeting.

The guards at the gate spotted them and swung the wooden portal open as soon as the two men turned down the path.

"Hercules, Iolaus," one hailed them. "Good to see you back. catch anything big?"

"Well, there was a giant in Arcadia," Iolaus said, stopping and leaning on his sword, prepared to tell the entire story in detail.

"We'll have to tell you about it later." Smiling at the guards, Hercules firmly took Iolaus by the shoulder and steered him through the gate. He knew Iolaus didn't actually need the push, since if he was really dead-set against this they would still be in Lechaeum with Hercules searching futilely through the forest for him. But if it made the last few steps any easier for his partner, he was willing.

The postern gate opened into a tree-shaded court, paved with gray stone, with a blue-tiled fountain in the center. On the opposite side a set of steps led up to a columned portico; it was a less grand entrance than the main court at the front of the palace, but it was the one that had always been used by family and close retainers. Looking at that entrance where carved double doors stood open to the breeze, Iolaus stopped without quite knowing he had. "Hey, why don't I...." He trailed off, unable to think of anything to go after "I."

Hercules regarded him. He didn't think delay would make it any easier, but Iolaus looked like he was going to be genuinely ill. Maybe Hercules could talk to Nebula first, at least find out how she felt. And if it was as bad as Iolaus thought it was going to be, maybe he could think of something to do about it. He couldn't imagine what that something would be, but there was always the possibility. "Why don't you wait while I go tell Iphicles we're here, find out what he thinks of the situation?" he suggested.

Iolaus nodded gratefully. "Yeah, that."

With a sigh, Hercules clapped him on the shoulder and went on up the steps to the portico and into the palace.

Iolaus paced back and forth distractedly, sword propped on his shoulder. Finally he leaned the weapon against the fountain's rim and sat next to it, burying his face in his hands. This was a mistake; putting it off wouldn't help. You should have gone on inside, gotten it over with. He knew that, but he was still sitting here. "You are a complete idiot," he said aloud.

Then he heard a quiet step behind him. He knew it was her, felt a thrill of awareness travel up his spine just before she said, "Iolaus."

He twisted around, put a hand in the fountain, nearly overbalanced and tumbled into it, recovered and bounced to his feet, tripped over his scabbard, nearly went into the fountain again, recovered and made it upright. Breathing hard, he said, "Nebula."

She was standing not ten paces away, staring at him. "It's really you," she said. Her voice was thick with some emotion, but he couldn't tell which one.

I forgot how beautiful she is, Iolaus thought, numb. She was dressed as a Queen instead of warrior, in loose pants and a tight bodice of red and gold silk, more gold on her armbands and earrings, and a ruby at her throat, bright against the dark honey of her skin. He made himself take a breath. "It's me," he said, possibly unnecessarily.

She said urgently, "I need to tell you--" She stopped, then shook her head, blinking, her expression suddenly going blank, as if she had forgotten what she was going to say. She winced. "You-- There's--"

"There you are. I wondered where you'd gone." The man was strolling toward them from the other side of the court, smiling amiably. He was tall, hawk-featured but handsome, speaking Greek with no trace of an accent. He wore courtier's clothes too, black pants and a dark blue sleeveless shirt, a knife with a jeweled hilt thrust through the sash at his waist. He stopped beside Nebula, putting a casual but possessive arm around her waist.

Iolaus gritted his teeth, managing not to swear at the interruption, or even to knock the guy on the head with his swordhilt and dump him in the fountain. He realized he was waiting for Nebula to at least jab the intruder with her elbow, or possibly pull a knife on him. Instead she did neither, just looked up at him mutely. Since nobody was apparently going to say anything else, Iolaus demanded, "Who are you?"

The man lifted his brows. "I could ask the same of you."

"You could, but I'm here to talk to her." Iolaus couldn't believe Nebula was still standing there, letting this guy talk for her. For Nebula the Queen it was improbable, for Nebula the pirate captain it was unimaginable.

"Oh, and does she want to talk to you?" The stranger was still smiling, as if the words were a joke.

Iolaus hesitated, but Nebula didn't give him any hint at all. "She sent Hercules a letter...." He looked urgently at her, hoping she would take it from there, but she didn't even look around. He still had no idea what to say. Look, we have to have an argument that has no solution, no answers, and no hope of resolution, that will probably leave us both emotionally devastated, so can you just go to Tartarus and let us get on with it? He didn't think that would help.

The man was eyeing him with amused speculation. "So you're Hercules?"

"No!" Iolaus stared at him, outraged. "No, I'm Iolaus. Why would I talk about myself in the third person? I'm not that crazy. I'm actually not crazy at all--"

"I'm Hercules," the demigod himself interrupted from across the court. Iolaus managed to clamp his jaw shut, breathing hard through his nose. He knew the man had been about to laugh at him, and he knew he would have killed him. Hercules was crossing the court from the portico, asking, "Who are you?"

"I tried that," Iolaus muttered, glancing up as his partner reached his side.

Still holding onto Nebula, the man gave Hercules a little half-bow. "I'm Davrios of Thera. We've come to negotiate for trade concessions for Sumeria."

"We?" Hercules and Iolaus both said in unison, both looking at Nebula.

She glanced up at Davrios, and at his slight nod, said, "Yes. Davrios is my advisor." She added belatedly, "Hello, Hercules."

"Hello," Hercules answered, studying her sharply.

Iolaus clapped a hand to his forehead in frustration. Okay, fine. He's Davrios, her advisor. So why the fuck couldn't he tell me that? Controlling himself with an effort worthy of Atlas supporting the world, he said tightly, "Nebula, you said you wanted to tell me something. Can we go somewhere and get it over - I mean, do that now?"

Davrios looked down at her, lifting a brow inquiringly. Nebula swallowed uncomfortably, obviously ill at ease. "Not right now," she said. "I have to-- We'll speak later."

She turned abruptly and walked away. Iolaus watched her go, stunned by the sudden dismissal. He couldn't believe she had come all this way and was willing to put the confrontation off. Then Davrios said, "I suppose you have unfinished business with her. After the...ah, events concerning Dahak."

Iolaus threw him a dark look, stung with the thought of what Nebula might have told this man.

Hercules had been watching Nebula's departure with a startled frown. Now he turned a deliberately arrogant gaze on Davrios and, with that "I'm the Son of Zeus and everybody I meet is an idiot" tone in his voice, said, "If there is unfinished 'business,' it's her concern, not yours."

Still smiling faintly, Davrios gave him a nod of mock concession, then followed Nebula.

***

Iphicles had left instructions for them to wait in the solar, a private retiring room behind the throne room. It had large windows looking out over the bay and the olive groves along this side of the palace wall. It was furnished simply with a few sheepskin rugs and some carved chairs with threadbare cushions. King Aeson's sword and shield were still displayed on the wall in the throne room, but in here it was Amphitryon's sword that hung in the place of honor over the hearth.

Iolaus had managed to keep quiet until the servant who had led them here left, but then he rounded on Hercules and demanded, "Is there something you want to tell me?"

Hercules, startled out of beginning a tirade against Davrios that had been building up since leaving the court, stared at him blankly. "No. What? No."

"About Nebula?"

Hercules rolled his eyes, exasperated. "I'm going to need a better hint than that."

"That Dahak did something to her brain and now she's like--" Iolaus gestured helplessly. "Weird, now?"

"No! Of course not!"

Iolaus deflated a little. "So she's doing that deliberately. Acting like that."

"I...." Hercules looked away, admitting reluctantly, "Yes, I think she is."

Iolaus paced in front of the windows. "She obviously doesn't want to talk to me."

"Then why did she come all this way?" Hercules demanded. He pulled the folded letter out of his vest as evidence. "Why did she write me to say she wanted to see you?"

Iolaus threw his arms in the air, shouting, "How in Tartarus should I know?" He paced back and forth, then stopped at the window, rubbing his eyes. "You don't think...."

Hercules, glaring in mute frustration at the hearth, looked up. "What?"

"That she's going to be like Morrigan?"

That name still had the power to make Hercules grit his teeth. "What do you mean?"

Iolaus shrugged impatiently. "I mean that she lured us here because she thinks I'm Dahak and wants to kill me to clear the way to making a pass at you."

Hercules stared at him, his expression suggesting that Iolaus had gone completely insane. "You realize the first part of that sentence had no logical relationship to the second part."

Iolaus swore, running a hand through his hair. "I know that! It's what the other Iolaus said Morrigan was there for. And I was right about the first part."

Hercules rubbed his forehead, trying to quell the incipient headache. "That's about all I need," he muttered. If Iolaus was going to catch Other Iolaus' well-earned tendency for paranoia, maybe avoiding each other was really best for the two of them after all.

"What?" Iolaus demanded suspiciously.

"Nothing," he said hastily. He shook his head. "I just don't think Nebula would do something like that. She's not..." Not rigid enough in her thinking to fall for the same kind of trick Morrigan had fallen for. If she really had suspicions, she would want to talk to Iolaus and see for herself. Of course, she had had the opportunity to do that and failed.

He couldn't imagine she was afraid. As painful as the subject must be to her, she wasn't a coward. Like Iolaus, she should be anxious to have it over and settled. And despite her sometimes prickly exterior, Hercules liked her. He let his breath out, admitting to himself that he just didn't want to be betrayed again by someone he had called friend.

Iolaus nodded, running a hand through his hair. "I know, I know. She's not easily led." He gestured, frustrated. "I'm just desperate for an explanation. Any explanation. Why drag us all here for this?"

Hercules nodded, pressing his lips together. "Good question."

Iphicles stepped in through the curtained door then, pulling his crown off and shaking out his dark hair. His slightly sour gaze took in both of them. "I take it this was a surprise to you as well?"

"Surprise is one way to put it," Hercules told him grimly.

"So who is this Davrios guy?" Iolaus asked him uneasily.

Iphicles dropped into one of the chairs near the hearth, considering the question. "He's apparently negotiating for her, but as far as I can tell, he doesn't seem to hold any position in the Sumerian court. I say 'apparently,' because he's asking me for concessions that I have no intention of giving him."

"What do you think of him?" Iolaus asked, watching him carefully. "Personally."

Iphicles eyed him a moment, then admitted, "I don't like him. I don't trust him. But that's not unusual for a foreign embassy." He set the crown aside on a table, his face thoughtful. "I'll admit, I'd planned to give Sumeria the trade Nebula was asking for, because of her help to you," he hesitated, glancing at Hercules, "last year. Even if no one in Corinth can remember what happened, it doesn't mean her service should go unrewarded."

Last year, when Dahak was well on its way to turning everyone in Greece into a worshipful slave. And that was only the beginning. Iolaus looked out the window, setting his jaw. And no one can remember it. Lucky bastards.

"But I expected to treat with a ruling Queen, not a court bootlicker." Iphicles obviously didn't get much chance to grumble in private to people he could trust not to repeat what he said. He shifted forward in his chair, warming to the topic. "From her letters, she didn't strike me as the kind of woman who would bring in a man to speak for her. Especially this man. He acts as if he's the King. And as far as I can tell he isn't even the Consort. Yet. He's not even from Sumeria."

"He said he was from Thera," Hercules said thoughtfully.

Iolaus snorted derisively. "It was destroyed by a volcano; there's no one left there to call him a liar."

"You think he's lying about where he came from?" Hercules asked with a frown. "Why?"

Iolaus looked up to see both brothers watching him expectantly, as if he knew what he was talking about. He shrugged helplessly. "I don't know what I think."

Iphicles leaned back in his chair, gazing pensively at the hearth. "Well, Davrios or not, I'm giving a dinner for the embassy tonight and you're both invited."

"Oh." Hercules consulted Iolaus with a look, got a rapid headshake in response, and began, "I don't know, I--"

"I arranged it before they arrived, and it would cause too much comment to cancel it now," Iphicles cut him off sharply. "I want you there. Both of you," he added with an air of grim finality.

***

Hercules left Iolaus in the room they had been given in the family quarters and headed for the east wing, where the Sumerian embassy was housed. He hadn't told his partner his intention, partly because he wasn't sure what his intention was beyond finding out what was going on, and partly because he knew Iolaus would object strenuously and possibly violently to his interference. Hercules would rather make excuses after the fact than be forbidden to interfere at all; he felt responsible for this situation. Whatever it was.

The east wing had a number of rooms and corridors opening off an elaborate garden court. Hercules strode past the two Corinthian guards at the formal entrance, who watched him curiously and with obviously no thought of trying to stop him. The two Sumerian guardsmen he encountered further in did try to stop him, but in the interest of diplomatic relations he didn't hurt them, just knocked both down and broke one of their spears.

Searching for Nebula, he reached a barred door to one of the inner chambers and knocked loudly. He hadn't seen any other members of the embassy except for young guardsmen and a few startled maidservants. It was odd that Nebula hadn't brought any other advisors besides Davrios. And as a warrior herself Nebula was capable of leading her own bodyguard, but it was strange that she hadn't included any seasoned warriors. Maybe there aren't any left, he thought grimly. Dahak had attacked the Sumerian Court twice; Nebula might have found it hard to keep her older nobles and their personal guards in the city.

Hercules was fully expecting an attempt to put him off, so it almost startled him when Nebula opened the door herself.

"Hercules," she said, her voice cool. Her expression was still and composed but he sensed turmoil under that calm surface and it disarmed much of his anger.

"Nebula, we need to talk about this," Hercules said ruefully. "You can't just get him -- us -- all the way here like this and then leave him hanging."

"I know. I know that." She took a deep breath. "But you have to give me time."

Hercules pressed his lips together. He might have believed that from a younger less resolute woman, but coming from her, it sounded like an evasion. His voice hardening, he said, "You chose the time, Nebula, not me. You're acting like a coward."

He meant it to be provoking and fully expected anger and probably a punch, but she just stared at him. Hercules met her gaze, frowning, baffled and increasingly angry. He couldn't see anyone else past her in the room, just an empty couch strewn with cushions and a small table with a wine set. But she was holding the door half-closed and he suddenly realized there was someone standing behind it. Davrios, he thought in irritation. What is it with him? He hesitated, wondering, but the man couldn't be threatening her. He couldn't have been secretly holding a weapon on her the entire time they had been in the palace, not without Iphicles catching on and intervening. Blackmail? Everyone knew she had been a pirate; he couldn't think what else there could be that was worse than that to hold over her. Hostages back in Sumeria? He flicked his eyes toward the door, letting her know he was aware of Davrios, and lifted a brow in inquiry.

She got the message, but just looked annoyed. "Don't be ridiculous."

Hercules frowned, realizing he had been rather hoping for hostages. That at least he knew exactly how to handle. "Then can we go somewhere and talk about this -- in private?"

"So you can insult me again?" she said coolly. "I don't think so. We'll talk tonight at dinner." And she shut the door in his face.

His jaw set, Hercules planted his hands on his hips, glared at the ceiling, and managed to restrain himself from ripping the door off its hinges. He had an audience now of the other Sumerians, the guards nursing their minor wounds with resentment and the maids watching in frightened silence. "Fine," he said through gritted teeth finally, turning away. It would do no good to push this, if she had changed so much, if this was how she dealt with her friends now. But he and Iolaus would leave in the morning.

***

One of the palace retainers had told Iolaus that the dinner had been originally planned for the family dining chamber attached to the King's private rooms, and Iphicles, Hercules, Iolaus and Nebula, and a couple of Iphicles' closest advisors who were friends rather than courtiers, had been the only guests. Another indication that Iphicles, like Hercules, had been expecting this to be a friendly visit. After Davrios' first meeting with the King, the dinner had been moved to the formal dining chamber near the throne room, and more members of Iphicles' court had been invited.

Waiting in the anteroom with Hercules, Iolaus paced uncomfortably. He always felt awkward in court clothes though the ones he wore now had been made for him and were kept at the palace for these infrequent occasions. The pants and long-sleeved shirt were black silk, with a gold-on-black brocade tunic over that, and a black sash with more touches of gold. The usual problem he had with court clothes was that the sleeves were meant to hang loose past the wrists, with no gauntlets or bands to hold them back, as a sign the wearer was noble and didn't have to do anything that might dirty the trailing fabric. The style tended to make Iolaus look boyish and that, plus the silk and bright colors, made him look like a Persian harem boy. The sober black and gold of this outfit didn't have that effect, and the sleeves had been cut back a little shorter. Hercules, being Hercules, looked perfect in a dark blue brocade tunic over a white shirt.

His pissed-off expression didn't exactly go with the clothes, however. "What?" Iolaus demanded. He hadn't seen much of Hercules during the afternoon; Iolaus had spent the time hanging around the palace's public rooms obviously being available in case Nebula wanted to make an attempt to talk to him. But the day had worn on, and alternately hoping and despairing had worn him down, and she hadn't appeared.

"Nothing." Hercules stood with folded arms, glaring at a wall-painting of the Argo sailing past Scylla and Charybdis. "We're leaving in the morning." Belatedly, as if realizing Iolaus might want some say in the matter, he added, "Right?"

"Sure, whatever." Iolaus shrugged wearily, turning away, realizing he really didn't care. How much longer was he supposed to wait around making an idiot of himself? "There's no point in staying."

Hercules took a frustrated breath and started to speak, but then just shook his head.

Iolaus told himself, you knew this would turn out badly. So stop acting surprised. Maybe, despite everything, he had been holding on to a hope that he hadn't articulated even to himself.

He realized he was looking at the section of the painting where tiny figures were visible on the Argo. He stepped close to it, remembering the old game of arguing over who was supposed to be who. He couldn't imagine himself at that age anymore. At the moment, it did seem just like a story, some bright adventure that happened in scrolls and tapestries and wall-paintings, not in real life. "If I'd known..." He hadn't realized he had spoken aloud until Hercules said dryly, "What, you would have jumped off the boat?"

Iolaus lifted a brow, surprised into a rueful smile. Sarcastic Hercules was a major improvement over Angry Hercules, anyway. "Not at Scylla. I would have waited until Colchis, at least."

Hercules snorted. He shook his head, pacing a little and pressing his hands over his eyes. "You know, we're just going to keep running into people who--" He gestured helplessly.

"Who can't deal with the fact that I came back after so long. And that I came back as me, and not someone -- or something -- else," Iolaus finished the thought. He snorted wryly. "I got that, believe me."

Hercules fetched up in front of the painting again, and actually looked at it for the first time since coming into the room. He was quiet a moment. Then he said, slowly, "Would you really, if you had known...."

Iolaus turned to eye him. That was one thing he was sure of. He had learned that lesson when Fortune had accidentally taken his memory a couple of years ago, and nothing had changed it. If he had had the choice, he would have chosen this life. "No," he said pointedly, and added, "Dumbass."

Hercules managed to look relieved and glare at the same time. Before he could reply, Iphicles walked in with two of his courtiers. The King looked them both over critically and nodded to himself. "Good. Let's get this over with."

He swept past, the courtiers in his wake, and Iolaus grimaced and followed him. Hercules trailed reluctantly after.

Light from the candlelamps flickered off more wall-paintings, all scenes from the Argo's voyages. Courtiers in fine clothes mingled and spoke, and Iolaus' eyes found Nebula immediately. She wore a russet gown that clung to her curves, caught at the waist with a wide gold belt, with the same ruby necklace and armbands she had worn that morning. Davrios was at her side. Iolaus saw her eyes flick toward him and away, but she didn't approach.

Iphicles acknowledged the bows from the assembled company rather brusquely and took his seat. The table was one meant for chairs, not dining couches, another sign that this was not an occasion for relaxing. Iolaus found a seat next to Hercules and tried to concentrate on the food the servants immediately carried in.

The courtiers did their duty by keeping the talk light, but he couldn't help stealing the occasional glance at Nebula. Maybe I should just start a conversation. "Hey, Nebula, how's it going? Sorry about the whole driving you mad thing, but you should have seen where I was. And are you sure you never happened to notice that your brother worshipped demons, because even a hint of warning would have been helpful." He grimaced and stabbed the joint of meat with more force than necessary, startling the already uneasy courtiers who were unfortunate enough to be seated near him. "Sorry," he muttered, trying to actually sound sorry. He looked down the table at her again, but she didn't glance up. He didn't see what she had to gain by avoiding the confrontation. Even the conversation in his head was making him look like a complete ass. If she actually participated, it was sure to be worse for him.

Davrios must have noticed the look, because he leaned forward and spoke up the table to Iolaus, saying, "I understand that you've returned from the dead several times."

Down the table, one of the courtiers choked on a bite of food and had to be pounded on the back by his neighbor. As a conversational gambit, it certainly had punch. But after Iolaus' recent encounter with Morrigan, Davrios was going to have to work to rattle him. Iolaus reached for his wine, saying archly, "That's kind of a personal question, don't you think?"

"It seems to be common knowledge." Davrios shrugged, smiling. Nebula just stared at her food, a faint line between her brows that might have meant annoyance or impatience. "I assume Hercules was responsible for your resurrection in each case? An example of his godly powers?"

The question had been addressed to Hercules. Iolaus rolled his eyes. He had wondered for a moment if Davrios' antagonism was jealousy of an ex-lover of Nebula's. But it looked like the man was just trying to get to Hercules. Iolaus swirled the wine in his cup, thinking in disgust, It would be nice to be attacked on my own behalf for once.

Watching Davrios with narrowed eyes, the demigod said, "Not exactly." The two words held an element of "I can put your head through that wall."

"I see." Davrios smiled. "So when do you intend to let him die?"

The table went quiet, every other conversation ceasing abruptly. Iphicles stared at the ceiling a moment then covered his eyes with his hand, apparently trying to distance himself from what he thought was about to happen. Nebula didn't lift her gaze, a muscle jumping in her cheek. But Hercules only said, "When he can do it in bed, surrounded by grandchildren."

Iolaus took a gulp of wine to hide his expression. He hadn't heard Hercules state that goal before and he wasn't sure if it surprised him or not, or what he thought about it. Hercules had replied without any hesitation, as if this was something he had given serious consideration.

Sometimes Iolaus was forcibly reminded that the large, mostly good-humored though occasionally cranky man sitting next to him, trying to eat without letting the fish sauce touch the roast quail, was actually a demigod. It was funny how that could still startle him sometimes after all these years.

Lost for a moment in philosophical speculation and therefore staring thoughtfully into his wine cup instead of showing anger at Davrios' sallies, Iolaus wasn't even aware he had won this round. He glanced up to see that he had the attention of the entire table, except for Hercules and Davrios, who were still locked in a staring contest. Iolaus set the cup aside with a smile. "I guess I should get started on the kids," he said mildly.

"You could adopt," Iphicles suggested politely, deadpan.

"Thank you, Iphicles, that was very helpful."

"You're welcome."

***

When the dinner was mercifully over, they walked out on the portico that ran along the main garden court. It was a warm summer evening and a few bowl-shaped lamps burned, emitting the sweet scent of warm olive oil and attracting suicidal moths. Davrios took Nebula's arm and, followed by their guards, they retreated across the court to the east wing. Hercules took a deep breath of the warm air, glad to see them go. He still wasn't sure what Davrios' game was, but the man knew things that only Nebula could have told him, and it hurt that she had betrayed them both in that way. But he couldn't believe she had done it out of malice.

After Iphicles bid the last courtiers goodnight and the couple had moved out of earshot, he turned to Hercules, asking in a low voice, "What did you make of that? The man wants trade concessions from me, and yet provokes my brother at my own table?" He folded his arms and snorted. "This is getting ridiculous."

Hercules shook his head helplessly. It occurred to him that Davrios, who seemed to know so much, might know how Iphicles hadn't always seen eye-to-eye with his half-mortal brother. He might have been trying to please Iphicles by his behavior, not realizing that Iphicles felt that only himself and other family members had the right to insult Hercules to his face and that any other attempt at it would be taken as a personal attack against the king's household. "He must have some hold over her." Hercules kept coming back to that, but he still didn't see how it could be possible.

"She hasn't asked for help, and she's had plenty of opportunity. I've spoken to her alone several times." Iphicles glanced at him sharply, echoing his thought. "Are you sure that's not wishful thinking?"

"Maybe so." Hercules looked away, annoyed and weary with all these machinations. "I just wish I knew why she got us here."

Iphicles paced along the portico, tapping his chin in thought. "I don't suppose it was simply a ruse."

"What do you mean?"

"She didn't know I'd already planned to give Sumeria the trade she was after. Maybe she wanted to get Iolaus here as a reminder of what we owe her."

Hercules frowned, about to say he really doubted it, when Iolaus' voice said firmly, "She wouldn't do that."

Iphicles hesitated, then said, "Are you sure? It's beginning to look like it." His tone became sardonic. "Davrios' hints were certainly broad enough."

"I'm going to bed," Iolaus announced abruptly, and strode away down the portico.

"Iolaus--" Hercules let out his breath, watching his partner turn the corner under the lamp and vanish into the palace.

"Dammit."

"Let him go." Iphicles threw a sharp look at him. "It's his burden to bear."

Hercules gestured in frustration. "I know that, I--" He halted, scanning the dark court. The flicker of lamplight didn't reach much past the steps. It was quiet except for the movement of the breeze through the leaves, the hum of night insects. Someone spoke inside the dining chamber and plates clattered as the servants cleared the table.

"What is it?" Iphicles asked quietly, one hand dropping casually to his knife hilt.

"I don't know." Hercules had caught surreptitious movement out of the corner of his eye. He added grimly, "Let's find out."

He took two long strides back into the dining room and seized a silver platter off the side table near the door. Stepping back out onto the portico, he marked the spot where he had seen the movement and slung the platter like a discus.

There was a yelp, a thump and a crash as something large careened off the wall and tumbled into a clump of bushes near the fountain. Oh, tell me that isn't what I think it is, Hercules thought in disgust, jumping down the steps and crossing the court. He stopped in front of the clump of flowering brush as Iphicles caught up with him. The guards were arriving at a run, carrying torches that illuminated the long-limbed thing thrashing in the foliage. Of course it's him. Hercules grimaced. "Autolycus, get up."

"That's easy for you to say!" Autolycus shouted, struggling to his feet, batting at the leaves and blossoms that clung to his green tunic. "You almost took my head off with that thing. Who do you think you are, Xena?"

"How did you get in here?" Iphicles demanded.

"Ah, good question." Autolycus planted one fist on his hip, striking a dramatic pose, and stroked his mustache. "Could it be because I'm the King of Thieves?"

Iphicles swore under his breath. Hercules sympathized. He asked tiredly, "You don't have anything of Perseus', do you? No magic shields, magic shoes--"

"Magic loincloths? No, unfortunately, I'm not packing tonight."

Iphicles growled, "Then why are you here?"

"Oh, no special reason, your Majesty." Autolycus gestured airily. "I just thought it was a good time of the year to take in the sea breezes."

"Why are you here in the palace?" Iphicles corrected pointedly.

"Oh, the palace, yeah." Autolycus nodded wisely, as if this was a question they had been discussing a long time and he was now ready to favor them with his opinion. "I heard the big guy and the golden sidekick were here and thought I'd just drop by to say hello."

"You thought you'd just drop by. Over the wall." Iphicles lifted a brow, still fuming. "Like, dare I say it, a thief."

"Of course, I'm the King of Thieves. I can't just stroll up to the gate like any ordinary yabo and ask to see Hercules." He stroked his mustache as Hercules rolled his eyes. "Sorry to say it, but it's not like Corinth's on the top ten list of places with high ticket items of interest to someone of my profession. I mean, the Golden Fleece has been snatched so many times I wouldn't be caught dead with it." He smiled winningly. "No offense."

"Iphicles--" Hercules let out a resigned breath. "It's all right. I'll take responsibility for him." He winced. I know I'll regret this. I always do.

"Fine." Iphicles caught hold of Autolycus' shirt and yanked him forward, surprising a yelp out of him. The King said through gritted teeth, "But if I'm told that anything so much as a scullery maid's copper coin or a kitchen boy's beads have gone missing, I'll clap you in chains under the lowest dungeon I can find." Iphicles dropped the King of Thieves and strode off across the garden.

Autolycus straightened his tunic, confiding to Hercules, "And I thought you could get your knickers in a twist."

"You haven't seen anything yet," Hercules muttered, seizing Autolycus by the shoulder of his jerkin and hauling him toward the portico.

***

Iolaus reached their room in the family quarters. The fire in the circular hearth was already banked and several of the bowl shaped oil lamps were lit in the wall niches, sending a soft flicker of light across the chamber. Their packs were piled on the floor and his sword and bow were propped against the far wall. He had always enjoyed staying at the palace. These chambers had their own bathing room, with servant girls who tended to wander in with towels and offers to scrub your back. The big bed with the feather-stuffed mattress didn't hurt, either. Tonight he was in no mood to be pleased by any of it.

He pulled off the brocade tunic and dropped it on a chest, with the idea of actually undressing and getting into bed, but found himself pacing in front of the hearth instead. He threaded both hands through his hair, frustrated beyond bearing. This wasn't just a way to make Iphicles give her some damn trade concessions, she wouldn't use me like that. Sure, she was a pirate, but-- He knew she wouldn't do that, that she wasn't that person. "That's it," he muttered to himself. "Forget waiting until she's ready." He would try to talk to her again now. Considering how she already felt about him, it couldn't make things worse.

He left the room, finding his way through the quiet lamplit corridors of the family quarters. He crossed into a dark garden court to avoid the public areas, then ducked into the east wing. At the far end of this corridor was the entrance to the Sumerian Embassy's quarters, torches in brackets on either side of the tall archway revealing two bored guards, leaning on their spears. Still in the shadows, Iolaus hesitated. He could probably get past the guards, at least the Corinthian detail. But if Nebula had guards or servants at the doors to her rooms, they were sure to turn him away, and a fight would just draw more unwelcome attention. He lifted a brow. Well, he knew a way past that.

He ducked around the corner of another corridor and ran his hand along the stone wall. It was impossible to see in the dim flicker of torch light, but his fingers found the slight crack in the masonry. Pressing in the right spot, he stepped back as something clicked deep within the wall and one of the carved panels swung ponderously open. He had found these passages years and years ago, when he was a runaway thief turned Academy cadet, playing games through these corridors with Jason and Hercules. They had come in handy a time or two since. A breath of cool stale air puffed out and Iolaus ducked under the cobwebs and stepped inside.

He pulled the heavy panel nearly shut behind him, trusting the shadows and the quiet corridor to keep it concealed. Intent on his mission, he fumbled along through the passage, finding his way by the points of dim light cast by tiny spyholes concealed in the wall carving of rooms and corridors.

He checked several rooms without success, before hearing soft female voices. He followed them to where a small square of candlelight split the dark. He eased up to another panel, looking through the opening to see a dim chamber lit by a few guttering lamps and a small hearth fire. He saw a low couch draped with sheepskin and a few cushions scattered on the polished stone floor. Then Nebula, still dressed in the russet gown, walked across his view. A young maid hurried after her and Nebula snapped, "That's enough. Just go."

The maid hesitated, then fled. Nebula dropped onto the couch, burying her face in her hands.

That's it. Iolaus found the panel's catch and pushed. It swung open abruptly and he tumbled out, staggered across the floor and caught himself. "Nebula."

She had leapt to her feet at the first click of the panel, seizing a heavy oinchoe as a weapon. Staring, she lowered the flask slowly. "Iolaus! What are you doing here?"

"I came to talk to you, what do you think?" he demanded, shaking the dust and cobwebs out of his hair.

She shook her head, pressing her lips together. Her face was drawn in the candlelight and she looked exhausted. She set the oinchoe back down on the table, looking away. "You'd better go."

Iolaus gestured in frustration. "Why did you write Hercules that you wanted to see me?"

She kept her face turned away. "I changed my mind." Her voice hardened and she sounded more like her old self as she demanded, "I can do that, can't I?"

Iolaus let his breath out, studying her. Maybe it was that simple. If it was, he felt sure he could change it back. He had never known her to run from an argument. "Iphicles thinks you got me here just so you could remind him of what Corinth owes you. But I said I knew you wouldn't do that. Am I wrong?"

Her head had lifted at the mention of Iphicles' suspicion, and Iolaus could tell it had touched her on the raw. She started to speak, hesitated, then rubbed her face tiredly. "Yes, you're wrong. That's what I did," she said, her voice flat.

"I don't believe that." Iolaus took a step closer, trying to get a better look at her expression. He knew that if she really wanted him gone, she would be making a better effort to throw him out than this. She wasn't cold and aloof the way she had been at dinner; she looked weary and drained, as if she had been fighting a battle for days and the outcome was not in her favor. Even I don't look that bad, and I'm more than half out of my mind. "What's wrong?"

She turned to him, gesturing angrily. "I--" She stopped again, a hand going to her throat.

"It's not like you don't want to talk, it's like you can't," Iolaus said slowly. "Is that it?" He stepped closer, wondering if he really was going out of his mind. She just stared at him, that same frustration and weariness in her eyes. "And if you can't talk, there's no way you can tell me if I'm right, can you?"

But she didn't say, You're crazy, now get out before I call the guards. She just stood there. He took the last step, close enough to take her in his arms. Carefully he reached out, touching the hand she still held to her throat. She didn't react, but he could see the tension in her face, the strain around her eyes. Whatever it was, she was fighting it. She was fighting it right now. Baffled, he took her hand, meaning to pull it away from her throat. His fingers brushed the necklace she wore and a sharp pain jolted into his flesh. He flinched and swore in shock, shaking his hand. It was numb up to the elbow. "Oh, that can't be good."

Nebula hadn't reacted at all, as if her inner battle was consuming all her attention. He peered at the necklace. She's been wearing it all day, hasn't she? It had thick gold links lying flat against the creamy brown of her skin, and a blood-red ruby in a plain gold setting resting in the hollow of her throat. There was carving on the ruby and some dark-colored inlay, but he couldn't make out the design. "Right." He took a deep breath, looking up into her staring eyes. "I hope this isn't a mistake." He hoped it didn't kill her. But if she was feeling a tenth of the biting pain that still sent prickles through his arm, he had to get it off her now. He grabbed the necklace with both hands and yanked.

Pain shot up his arms and she jerked forward with a cry, but Iolaus felt the links part under his grip and flung the thing away. He staggered, wrapping his arms around himself, feeling as if he had thrust both hands in the fire. Then Nebula stumbled, swayed, and started to fall. He leapt forward and caught her around the waist. She sagged against his shoulder, taking a deep shuddering breath, her hair coming down in a dark river. She coughed and gasped out, "Thanks."

Iolaus shut his eyes briefly in relief. "What is that thing? Who put it on you?" he demanded. The necklace lay at their feet in the firelight, the links charred, the ruby now completely black. He stamped on it for good measure and felt it shatter to powder under his bootheel.

She shook her head in confusion, one hand still massaging her throat. "I don't know, but damn it hurt. Where are we?"

"Corinth." He stared, aghast. Her voice sounded fuller, richer, more like he remembered. "You didn't know? You've been here for days."

"It's all a blur. I was at the river docks at Sumer, getting ready to go to the seaport, coming here to see you and Hercules...." She looked up, bewildered and angry. "What in Tartarus happened to me?"

"It's Davrios, isn't?" Iolaus said grimly. "He said he was your advisor."

"Who?" she demanded.

The door flung open, cracking against the wall.

***

Pacing the now empty dining chamber, Hercules had time to remember just how pointless interrogating Autolycus could be. "Auto, I don't have time for this. Just tell me why you're here."

"You know, it's just your own suspicious nature," Autolycus informed him confidentially. He was seated comfortably on the table, finishing off the last pomegranate in the fruit bowl. "You need to examine your own conscience. Obviously, there's something you've done that you feel compelled to project onto me. Now if you ask me--"

Hercules clapped a hand over his eyes. "Look, you know Nebula? The Queen of Sumeria who Iolaus was going to marry before her brother sacrificed him to Dahak? Well, she's here. She sent me a letter saying she wanted to talk to Iolaus for the first time since he's been alive again. Now she's apparently changed her mind or lied to try to get some advantage in a negotiation with Iphicles and it's my fault we're here and everything was going so well before." He gestured helplessly. "And why I am bothering to tell you this?"

"All right, all right!" Autolycus waved urgently at him. "Stop appealing to my better nature already, it makes me nervous." He dropped the half-eaten fruit back into the bowl and leaned forward, lowering his voice to say, "It was like this. A friend of a friend dropped me the word that a special gem that was stolen from a temple in Knossos was going to be in Corinth." He added hastily, "Not stolen by me, you understand, stolen by somebody else. I was just planning to liberate it. A gem with a history like that deserves to be liberated by the King of Thieves, not some no-name."

Hercules listened with a frown. "What gem?"

"You know the stories about Thera, right? Before it sunk. Blood-drinking and dark sorcery and all that malarkey?"

"Yes." Hercules' brows drew together. Thera? A coincidence?

"According to this legend, this gem was part of a set that a particularly nasty sorcerer used to keep the peasants from revolting. The kind of deal where whoever wore it had no will of his own. Apparently he gave one of these baubles to a Cretan princess in order to haul her off to his lair, and some enterprising hero-type managed to rescue her. The gem ended up back in Knossos with them, and so was the only one of the set to survive when Thera sank."

No, not a coincidence. Hercules asked quietly, "What does it look like?" but he was fairly sure he already knew.

***

Davrios stood in the doorway, one hand cupping a sphere of glowing red light. He lifted a brow, smiling. "Well, I did think you would finally figure it out, but I didn't know about the other entrance to these quarters."

Iolaus looked frantically around for a weapon but no swords or spears decorated these walls and there was nothing heavy in reach; pillows didn't make much of a weapon compared to sorcerous balls of light. I hate these guys. And they kept showing up with depressing regularity. He said firmly, "If you're here about the disconnected souls having power thing, Malebore tried it already and it didn't work."

Davrios laughed. "Malebore was an amateur. But no, I'm not here for that."

"Careful, he's a sorcerer," Nebula said sharply.

"Yeah, believe it or not, I actually figured that out for myself," Iolaus snapped.

"Look, smartass, I'm still playing catch-up here," she told him angrily. Eyeing Davrios warily, she said, "All right, who are you and what do you want?"

He strolled further into the room and they both backed away. Iolaus thought they were being pretty casual about edging toward the still partly open panel into the secret passage. Then Davrios gestured with his free hand and the panel slammed shut, smoke puffing from its hinges as if whatever had closed it had been red hot. "Ouch," Iolaus commented under his breath.

The ball of light was growing in size, twice as big as the man's hand now, and Iolaus thought he could see something writhing inside it. There was no sign of the Sumerian guards or servants. Davrios said, "You know my name, your majesty. And I don't think I'll tell you the rest just now. But surely you recall accepting a gift from the grateful people of Corcyra? A little girl brought it to you in your throne room." He shook his head mockingly. "A born Queen would have handed it aside to a servant, not put it on immediately to show her appreciation to the child. It was too easy."

Nebula swore, throwing a look at Iolaus. "You came to rescue me and you didn't bring a sword?" she asked furiously. "How dumb was that?"

"I didn't know I was rescuing you until I got here," he snarled back, still keeping his eyes on Davrios and that ball of light. "At least I didn't fall for the oldest trick in--"

"Hey, I--"

"Clever, but you've delayed me long enough," Davrios interrupted. He tossed the light toward them. Iolaus dodged back, pulling Nebula with him as the light hit the stone and splashed toward his boots. A wave of heat swept over them and he winced away from it, certain for a moment that they were both about to die.

Something rose out of the light, something red, twice a man's height, with a bullet-shaped troll-sized head and four long arms. It growled, diving for them. Exchanging a frantic look, Iolaus ducked one way and Nebula the other.

Iolaus threw a chair at it but the creature shrugged it off; Nebula snatched up a smoldering log from the fire and struck it in the side. It reached for her and she dodged away, but stepped on the hem of her dress and stumbled. Her outraged curse turned into a yell as the creature grabbed her around the waist. Iolaus shouted to attract its attention, grabbing a small table and hurling it at the thing's head. The impact had no effect and, ignoring the solid kicks Nebula was pounding its ribs with, it reached for him. He dodged away and fell over a little table holding a bowl of apples, scattering the contents everywhere. Iolaus rolled to his feet, snatching up the fruit knife which was just about the right size to fight off an angry chicken with. I'll have to get it in the eye, he thought, ducking another wild grab.

He dodged again and threw the knife. The creature roared with pain as the weapon struck it in the eyelid, but the tiny blade wasn't long enough to do any real damage. One huge hand brushed it away and the other backhanded Iolaus across the room.

He slammed into a chest that shattered beneath him. Dazed, his back aching, he rolled over on the broken wood and saw a big red blunt-fingered hand reaching for him. Desperately he scrambled back, just managing to push himself up on his elbows. Then from somewhere behind the creature he heard a crash and a familiar demigodly bellow: "Iolaus!"

"Here!" he shouted in relief, kicking at the hand.

It pulled back, the creature straightening up, and for an instant Iolaus thought he had actually managed to hurt it. It half-turned away and he saw Nebula where she hung in its grip, her legs trapped now by the other hand on that side, still trying to claw at its tough hide with her nails. Their eyes met, startled and hopeful, then the creature bolted away. It nearly doubled over to get out the door, then it was gone.

Iolaus scrambled to his feet, shaking splinters out of his hair, and ran after it. In the doorway he slammed into something large and muscular that caught him by the shoulders, but fortunately it was Hercules. "Where?" he demanded.

"That way!" Iolaus pointed. He had an instant to notice his partner was accompanied by Iphicles carrying a drawn sword, a half-dozen confused Corinthian guards and, for some bizarre reason, Autolycus.

Hercules nodded, released him, and ran.

The creature had left a broad trail of broken doors, smashed statuary, and alarmed bystanders through the palace. The trail led to the front gates, which had somehow been barred from the outside. Hercules battered them with his shoulder while Iphicles snarled and paced at the delay and servants brought torches to light the dark court. Iolaus found himself standing next to the King of Thieves. "What in Tartarus are you doing here?" he asked, breathing hard.

"Why, I came to warn you about the cursed necklace," Autolycus answered, as if it was obvious.

Hercules and Iphicles stopped to stare at him incredulously. "Well, that's how it worked out." Autolycus folded his arms defensively.

With an annoyed grimace, Hercules slammed into the gate again and whatever sorcerous barrier held it shut gave way with a crash. They ran through the dark of the lower town, following the creature's trail straight for the harbor.

Reaching the line of docks where merchant ships and galleys lay quiet and only a few lanterns burned, Iolaus' heart sank. At the royal dock there was a conspicuously empty space where Nebula's ship had been berthed. The guards there lay sprawled on the battered boards, one dead of a broken neck, the other two unconscious. Hercules had reached the spot first and was standing at the end of the dock, hands planted on his hips. Iolaus reached his side, shielded his eyes from the torchlight, and peered into the darkness. After a moment he found it, a dark shape against the lighter black of the moonlit sea.

The Sumerian ship plowed toward the harbor entrance. No oars rose and fell, and no sails billowed in the cool wind. She was sailing by sorcery.

"So where's he taking her?" he said in frustration, mostly to himself.

"We'll find out when we get there," Hercules answered grimly.

***

Iphicles commandeered a fast merchant ship for them, the sailors paid well to provision and ready it as quickly as possible. By the time Iolaus had run back to the palace, changed out of the ruined black silk into his leathers, grabbed his weapons and their travel packs and returned, the ship was nearly ready to leave. He joined Hercules and Iphicles on the torchlit dock, handing his partner his pack.

Hercules shouldered it absently, listening to Iphicles' captain of the guard, who was reporting, "Her maids and guards know nothing. They all say they were taken on in the seaport just before the Queen left Sumeria. Davrios was already with her then."

Iphicles nodded grimly. "So he tricked her into taking the necklace earlier, then used it to gain control of her after she left her palace." He turned to Hercules. "I'll send a fast courier to Sumer to warn them in case he takes her back there. Is there anything else you need?"

Hercules shook his head. "We'll find her. I'll send you a message as soon as I know anything."

The ship's captain shouted from the deck, letting them know they were ready to cast off. Iphicles was watching Hercules carefully. He said, "You know this is a trap, don't you? If Davrios was only after Nebula, he had no reason to bring her here at all."

No reason, except to let them see her and make sure they would follow when he fled. Follow him away from Corinth and any help that Iphicles and his army might provide, from Jason and their other friends. Iolaus exchanged a bleak look with Hercules, who said soberly, "Yes, we know."

Iphicles let his breath out, acknowledging that there was nothing to be done about it. He gave Iolaus a tight nod, then with a trace of self-consciousness told Hercules, "Good luck, brother."

Hercules clapped him on the shoulder and followed Iolaus, who was already halfway up the gangplank.

Iolaus found a place in the prow, too tense to speak to anyone and not wanting to get in the sailors' way. He was so occupied with his own thoughts, it took him a moment to realize that the man standing next to him was not the captain of the ship, but Autolycus.

"You're coming?" he asked him, startled.

The King of Thieves shrugged, his expression impossible to read in the dark. "I didn't come all this way to scrape what's left of a priceless gem off your boots, Curly. The jerk owes me."

Iolaus thought it was the lamest explanation he had ever heard, but he wasn't going to argue.

Part 2: Egypt

"We don't mind being chased by giant birds, we just want to know why."
Young Hercules

Hercules was dreaming. In the dream he was stuck somewhere, not trapped, just stuck, going from place to place, having to perform a series of petty tasks that he couldn't recall once they were completed. He had to finish, needed to finish, because Iolaus was stuck somewhere as well -- crossing a desert or slogging across an icy plain, it changed back and forth at random -- and he had to be there, had to meet him at the end, had to get there in time or--

"Wake up!"

The whisper was accompanied by a solid thump to the small of his back. A wave of indignation washed out the urgent dream images as Hercules propped himself up on one elbow. "Did you just kick me?" he demanded, now fully awake.

"Yes." It was dark and warm in the hold, the half-light of a cloudy pre-dawn filtering through the gaps in the boards overhead. He could barely make out their packs and the blankets they had spread on the deck to protect them from the splintered boards. Iolaus was standing over him, hastily struggling into his clothes. Before Hercules could physically retaliate or launch into an indignant I-may-be-a-demigod-but-there-are-limits speech, Iolaus said, "Get out there."

The grim tone in his partner's voice stopped him. Hercules sat up, realizing the reason Iolaus was having so much trouble lacing his pants up was because his hands were shaking. Without another word, he pushed to his feet, struggled into his own pants and grabbed his shirt, starting for the ladder.

As he climbed he realized something was wrong with the quality of the light. Uh oh. His thoughts raced as he reached the top and climbed out onto the deck. It could be a strange storm, a tidal wave, a god manifesting over the prow.... He saw a few crewmen standing against the rail in a silent huddle, their faces drawn with terror, staring up at the inexplicably shadowed sky.

Hercules paused at the rail, still baffled. The sky was clear and cloudless but dark, a gray-purple tint of twilight. Stars were faintly visible but he couldn't see the dim white shadow of the full moon. His brain and his gut told him the sun should be up but it simply wasn't.

If it really is dawn and we're still heading southwest.... He turned, looking for the sun.

After a moment his eyes found the black shadow that covered it. Not the clean-edged circle of an eclipse, but a threatening amorphous shape, tentacles of black cloud reaching out to enclose and cover the fiery disk. Hercules' throat went dry.

Iolaus came to stand at his side. "What is it?" he asked, sounding shaken.

Hercules shook his head, his eyes still on that empty black shadow. "I don't know."

Iolaus swore. "I hate it when you say that."

I hate it when I say that too, Hercules admitted to himself, turning to stride up the deck toward the prow. The crew watched him with anxious concern. He thought about saying something reassuring but decided against it; an honest assessment of the danger was more likely to quell panic than empty words. He just didn't have an honest assessment at the moment.

The ship's captain and Autolycus were standing in the prow, surveying the strange sky. The King of Thieves had dressed hastily as well, his outer jerkin and tunic hanging open. He was stroking his mustache nervously and as Hercules and Iolaus arrived, he said, "Thoughts? Comments? Suggestions?"

"Glad you came?" Iolaus asked him grimly.

"Hey, the King of Thieves is more than equal to...." He gestured vaguely upward. "Whatever in the name of all that's holy that is." Autolycus' bravado didn't waver, but he couldn't quite conceal the uneasy tone in his voice.

Hercules started to answer, then saw a crewman sitting on the deck, about to use flint and tinder to light one of the cabin candle lamps. Struck by a frightening idea, he held his breath. If it isn't just the sun, if it's fire, if it's everything that makes the world work.... But the flint sparked and the tinder caught, and as the man got the wick lit Hercules breathed deeply in relief. He glanced down at Iolaus, who had followed his gaze and obviously had the same thought. Iolaus took a sharp breath, unconsciously rubbing an old scar on his chest. He said, "At least Prometheus is okay."

"Prometheus?" Autolycus glanced at the crewman, now taking the lamp away to hang inside the captain's cabin, got the point and gave a mock shudder. "You two creep me out sometimes, you know that?"

Hercules scanned the horizon until he found the black shape of Davrios' ship, still without sails, still heading away from them. "This can't be a coincidence," he said, keeping his voice low.

"Davrios leads us this way and the sun just happens to go out? That would be some coincidence," Iolaus agreed.

"But how?" the captain wondered, watching Davrios' ship worriedly. He was Phoenician, an older man with his graying hair braided tightly to his head. "I know he's a sorcerer, but what sorcerer could do this?"

Hercules remembered the dream Iolaus had woken him from. It might have been a warning, like the one he had had on that ill fated voyage to Sumeria. He had seen himself as Dahak then, but he hadn't understood the message. Not until he had realized how Dahak had appeared to Iolaus once it had him trapped within itself. Don't let this be another warning, he thought. Heeding it would mean turning the ship around, and he couldn't do that. Couldn't leave Nebula to whatever fate Davrios planned, couldn't leave this trap unsprung. Not if Davrios had the power to blot out the sun. "But why did he do it?" he said aloud.

"It's not preventing us from following him." Iolaus frowned, leaning on the rail as he looked out at the distant shape of the ship. "But then we're pretty sure us following him is the motive for his taking her, right?"

"Right." Hercules looked down at him. "So what's the point?"

Iolaus shook his head slowly.

"Whatever it is," the captain told them soberly, "I'll be just as glad not to be there when you find out."

***

They still had no answers the next day -- if they could call it a day when the sun neither rose nor set -- when they realized that Davrios was heading for the port of Alexandria. "Egypt," Hercules said thoughtfully. They were standing in the bow, the strong wind tugging at their hair and clothes. The sky was a deeper purple now, the stars more clearly visible. "That's not what I was expecting."

Leaning on the rail beside him, Iolaus nodded. "I was sure it would be Sumeria." He had been dreading that it would be Sumeria. I guess it's a trade-off, he thought with grim humor. Don't have to go Sumeria, but the sun gets put out. On the whole, if he had been given a choice, he felt he would have opted for Sumeria.

"I thought he might have a lair in those rocky islands that are all that's left of Thera, guarded by blood-drinking undead fiends," Autolycus put in.

Iolaus stared at him, baffled. "What?"

Autolycus looked annoyed. "It was just a thought, all right?"

They reached Alexandria half a day behind Davrios and landed in a city in chaos, locked in a kind of permanent purple twilight. Ships were fleeing the harbor in panicked droves, rowing out between the feet of the colossus that straddled the harbor mouth, the burning torch clasped in its hand the only sun that had risen this day. Hercules instructed the crew to stay with the ship, though Iphicles had given them orders to follow the demigod. They were good men, but they were just as glad to stay in the relative security of the port; it had been growing steadily darker as they neared land.

Again, Davrios left an easy trail to follow. Frightened merchants guarding their wares in the dark and beggars huddled in alleyways had seen the four-armed troll go toward the Nile riverdocks, followed by a figure in a dark cloak. No one had noticed a woman with them, but one beggar admitted that he thought the troll might have had a dark bundle slung over its shoulder.

At the riverdocks they found Davrios had taken a boat and headed upriver. They split up then, Hercules going off to try to find someone in authority with any idea of what was happening to the sky, and Iolaus and Autolycus staying at the docks to find a craft for themselves.

Now, waiting for Hercules to return, Iolaus paced the deserted wooden dock at the edge of the great river, feeling the damp heat of the delta settle on his skin like a silk shroud. It had been easier to find a boat than he had thought it was going to be in all the confusion. Hearing that they wanted to go inland into the darkness, the owner of a small fishing boat had practically been willing to give him the craft as long as he didn't have to come along; Iolaus had had to chase him down to give him the dinars he had offered.

Now Autolycus puttered on their boat, stowing supplies he claimed had been abandoned on the docks. Iolaus was in too big a hurry to argue with him about it. He spotted a familiar form coming down the dock at a trot and let out a relieved breath. "Finally," he said aloud, starting forward to meet Hercules.

"Did you find out anything?" he asked as he reached the demigod.

"No." Hercules shook his head, his tone grim. "They don't know anymore than we do. There's been no pronouncement from the Pharaoh or the gods that anyone's aware of, no messages from Thebes. The priests seem to be as baffled as everyone else."

Iolaus looked down the dock, running a hand through his hair. "Who is this guy?" he said quietly.

Hercules didn't answer, just laid a hand on the back of his neck and squeezed reassuringly. "Let's go."

***

After the first day of travel, the star-filled sky and the oil lamps on the prow and stern of their boat were the only sources of light; otherwise they might have been sailing on an underground river through the caverns of Tartarus. Holding the tiller of the little boat, Iolaus took a deep breath, reminding himself that the world was still there. The wind pushing them upriver held the scent of desert grass and dusty sand; the water lapped against the boat and he could hear an occasional confused low from a riverhorse or the grunt of a crocodile.

Autolycus climbed around the small cabin, yawning and squinting against the yellow glow of the lamp. "Get any sleep?" Iolaus asked him, to make conversation.

"Your guess is as good as mine. I couldn't tell if my eyes were open or closed," Autolycus grumbled, stumbling around on the little deck.

"Been there, done that," Iolaus agreed. He would have thought the perpetual darkness would have made it a struggle to stay awake, but it seemed to do the opposite. It was as if their bodies were confused, some signals saying it was day and others saying it was night, so that time blurred and they slept in restless spurts.

"Here, I'll take over," Autolycus said gruffly, reaching for the tiller.

"Hey, hey." Iolaus blocked him with a shoulder. "It's still my turn." He was only partly kidding. This was the only thing to do onboard; he had already sharpened his sword as much as he could without damaging the blade.

"Oh come on, you've had it all night -- day -- whatever. Give it here."

Iolaus grudgingly gave over the tiller and went forward, climbing around the cabin. Out of the light of the lamp, he paused to let his eyes adjust. After a moment, he could make out the great expanse of the river, but he couldn't tell where it stopped and the banks started. He made his way toward the dark Hercules-sized shape in the bow, stumbled on a coil of rope and managed to take a seat behind him.

Hercules shifted so he could half-face Iolaus. "How are you doing?"

Iolaus tried to settle more comfortably against the side of the boat and gave up. "Huh? Oh, fine. Just can't sleep."

"Me too," Hercules replied, sounding a little absent. "I think it's the moon. It must affect how we sleep, even when we can't see it."

"Yeah." Iolaus knew it had affected other things too. He just hadn't been much interested in eating, not that their provisions of dried meat and flatbread were terribly appetizing. It might be worry over what was happening to Nebula and what they were going to face when they caught up to Davrios, but the lack of any real sense of a day's passage couldn't help. He tried to find a comfortable position again, then gave up again. "You know what I've been wondering?"

"Yes," Hercules answered immediately. "What's Kheper doing about this?"

"Yeah." Iolaus hesitated, then said in exasperation, "You can't tell me Mr. 'Amun-Re makes housecalls and Anubis hangs out in my statue' couldn't take on Davrios. Even if Davrios is powerful enough to do this."

"But Davrios was still at sea when this happened," Hercules pointed out. "I've been thinking...what if what did this was already here, waiting for Davrios to get close enough to give it some signal."

Iolaus lifted his brows. "The signal that he was leading us here?"

"Yeah, that signal." Hercules sounded resigned. "I don't think an ordinary sorcerer, even someone as powerful as Kheper, could pull this off. This is...god-powerful."

"Or demon-powerful," Iolaus pointed out.

Hercules was silent a moment. "You think it's another fragment of Dahak?" he asked reluctantly.

Iolaus shook his head, considering it. "No, not this. I think--"

"You don't?" Startled, Hercules twisted around to squint at him in the dark.

Iolaus frowned. "Why? Do you?"

"No, it's just--" Hercules gestured helplessly. "You think everything is Dahak."

"I do not!"

"Yes, you do. Or you did."

"No, that's...you're not..." Iolaus sputtered. "I do not do that."

"Okay."

Iolaus bristled. That was the okay that meant okay, I'm not going to argue with you, I'll just sit here secure in the knowledge that I'm right. "Whatever. As I was saying," he continued testily, "I don't think one of the Dahak fragments we've run into could do this. Even the one in Persia. They've been getting progressively weaker and stupider."

"I think you're right. I think this is something that's native to Egypt, something that's attacking Amun-Re specifically." Hercules hesitated again, then said, "What I was asking before was, actually, were you okay with being here? Like this? It's not...bothering you?"

"Oh." Iolaus finally got it. "No, not like that." The Paths of the Dead weren't this dark, he started to say, and thought better of it; it wasn't very encouraging under the circumstances.

He didn't remember it much anymore, anyway. What he seemed to have were memories of remembering it, of brief flashes that came to him in dreams, under the influence of the dream-powder Asclepias had given him. As if once his soul was back in his physical body it hadn't been able to retain those images. It was the Dahak memories that could still haunt his dreams, even now.

For all the strangeness of this dark landscape, this was the place where he had suddenly found himself alive and free, and even if he couldn't see it, he could still smell that unique combination of sand, dusty rock and the heavy green sweetness of muddy farmland inundated by the great river flow. He shifted uncomfortably on the damp boards again, finally asking the question that was really bothering him, "If we can't see the sun or the moon, does that mean those gods are dead?"

Hercules' answer came so readily Iolaus knew the demigod had been giving it a lot of thought. "I suppose they could have taken away the sun as some kind of punishment, but.... In all the fights with Apollo I've had, he's never even threatened to stop the sun from shining over Greece. I doubt it even crossed his mind. I think gods with a special purpose like that feel compelled to carry it out, no matter what. I think a Sun God wouldn't want to stop the sun, unless it wanted to stop being a god altogether. And there's not much chance of that." He shook his head reluctantly.

Iolaus noted that Hercules hadn't answered the question. That was answer enough. And Nebula is in the middle of it. He took a deep breath. "And we know it's a trap for us. I don't know, maybe we shouldn't have brought Auto."

Hercules snorted. "Brought him?" After a moment, he added, "I'm worried about Kheper."

Iolaus agreed grimly. "There's no way he'd sit through this without a fight."

They sat in silence for a time, watching the dark landscape flow by. Hercules glanced down at Iolaus again. "Try to get some sleep," he advised.

"Yeah, that's likely." He snorted, wriggling uncomfortably again.

Hercules said, "Here," and shifted so Iolaus could lean against his side instead of the damp wood. Iolaus gave in, grumbling, but settled in under Hercules' arm. He fell asleep within moments, and he didn't even dream.

***

They came to a Thebes wrapped in darkness, at a time when the sun should have just been breaking over the red cliffs. Standing in the bow, shielding his eyes from the light of the lamp, Iolaus could just make out the square shapes of buildings rising on the banks of the dark river. He supposed they had been passing the small farms and the estates of the nobles that bordered the river right up to the city's outskirts, but it was all a vast well of shadow.

As they drew nearer the bank, he could see the pointed caps of obelisks, the fronds of tall palm trees, and the mammoth head of a statue of a god or pharaoh, outlined against the deep purple sky. Everything else -- the jewel-like colors, the plated gold, the massive lotus-shaped colonnades -- were lost in darkness. He glanced back to see Autolycus, made hollow-cheeked and gaunt by the lamplight, stroking his mustache and studying the view with a worried frown. Autolycus caught his eye and said, "Doesn't look so good, Curly."

"No," Iolaus agreed softly, his gaze returning to the silent city. "No, it doesn't."

He heard Hercules' footsteps as the demigod came forward, and the deck creaked as he stopped beside Iolaus to survey the silent city rising from the muddy banks. "Let's furl the sail and cover the lamp," he said. "The docks should be right up there."

Iolaus nodded, trying to ignore the prickles of unease running up and down his spine. They had checked the docks of every city along the Nile for Davrios' boat, but he had had the feeling the sorcerer was making for Thebes. It was the heart of Egypt, and if something had struck at Egypt's gods, it would strike there. He moved to take down the sails, Autolycus coming to help him, while Hercules went back to take the oar.

An invisible forest of reeds near the bank brushed against their boat as they came down past the quiet docks, where the sailing craft and barges drifted empty and deserted.

Tightening a line, Autolycus glanced up and cursed, startled, his eyes widening. Iolaus twisted around, instinctively ducking and reaching for the spear leaning against the mast. A giant sphinx loomed over them, its approach sudden, silent except for the lap of water on wood.... "It's a barge." Iolaus snorted in relief, straightening up to set the spear aside. It was the carved stern of a royal barge.

Autolycus had his grappling hook out, poised to throw. "A what?" He stared hard at the menacing shape, rocking gently in the water, and huffed self-consciously. "A barge. I knew that. I just wanted to see if you were on your toes, Curly."

Iolaus rolled his eyes, but before he could reply, Hercules' voice said quietly, "There it is."

Iolaus jerked around, looking toward the bank. The barge's giant falcon-shaped prow was drifting to stern and past it, outlined against the lighter-colored stone of the Royal Dock, was a merchant's river skiff. Iolaus stepped to the little cabin, taking his scabbarded sword and slinging the belt over his shoulder, checking the set of the hilt. The boat fit the description they had of the one Davrios had stolen in Alexandria; they wouldn't know for certain, of course, until they got aboard.

The lap of water against their hull was the only sound as Hercules carefully guided their boat toward the larger craft, drawing aside it with the barest scrape. Iolaus grabbed the other boat's rail and climbed onto the deck as Autolycus hastily tied them off to the merchant craft. The deck was empty except for a coil of rope and a water jar; there was no belowdeck area, only a cabin at the stern to shelter the cargo. Moving with care to keep the wood from creaking, Iolaus eased forward. The boat was larger than theirs, about twice the size, and her sails were a tangled useless heap at the base of the mast. Iolaus paused but could hear nothing, no movement, no breathing. There was barely a sound as Hercules climbed aboard behind him, Autolycus creeping after him. Iolaus grimaced to himself. There was no one here, he could already tell. Of course, it's not going to be easy.

He crossed the deck, stepping lightly, but the cabin door stood open and a moment's inspection of the dim interior told him it was empty. "Nothing," he said, not realizing how tightly he was gripping the edge of the door until a splinter stung his palm.

"He's still ahead of us," Hercules said, his voice hard. He paced back across the deck, examining it more closely, then caught hold of a piling to climb up onto the masonry dock. Autolycus crouched down to examine the cabin floor. Iolaus moved to follow Hercules but Autolycus caught his arm, saying, "This look familiar?"

He was holding out an armband. Iolaus took it, recognizing it by touch, though the gold looked silver in the starlight. "Yes, it's hers."

"Hmm." Autolycus got to his feet, grim and thoughtful. "At least we know it's the right boat."

Iolaus had known that as soon as he had seen the useless sails. He absently slipped the band onto his wrist over his gauntlet and climbed up on the dock after Hercules. There was no sound from the shadowy buildings lining the shore, not a hint of life.

Hercules was standing on the stone walkway, hands planted on his hips, grimly contemplating the dark city. As Iolaus joined him he said, "The trail won't be hard to follow."

Iolaus followed his gaze. It took him a moment to make it out, but then he saw the broken column at the corner of the long portico of the building facing the dock. He nodded. "Yeah, he's made sure we can follow, just like in Corinth. Let's go."

Hercules stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "We need to find Kheper."

Iolaus shook his head, impatient. "He could be off somewhere trying to fix this. We need to go after Nebula before Davrios decides he doesn't need her anymore."

"I know. I'll follow Davrios. I want you and Auto to go to Kheper's house and see if he's there. If he's not, Tawaret and Dahluka-ta-sherit should know--"

"Are you out of your mind? I'm not going to leave you--"

Hercules insisted, "Iolaus, I'm trying not to fall into this obvious trap, and to do that, we're going to need some help. I need you to find Kheper."

"Why don't you go find him? Auto and I can follow Davrios--"

Autolycus leaned in. "Whoa there, Sidekick, what was option alpha again?"

"You and Nesmut were all over this city at night, you can make it up to his house and back much faster than I can," Hercules said firmly. "This is not about who's going to be taking the biggest risk, it's about acting together to get Nebula out of danger. And we don't have time to argue about it."

Iolaus swore, shoving a hand through his hair and looking away. That twist in his gut that told him this was a bad idea was nothing but wounded pride. He's right. And you were five paces away from Davrios when he took her, and what good did that do? But he said, "At least take Auto."

"I'll go faster without him to worry about." Hercules squeezed Iolaus' shoulder. "Hurry."

"Hey, don't I get a choice?" Autolycus objected.

"No." Iolaus took out his pique by giving Autolycus a shove in the right direction. "You wanted to come, remember?"

***

Direct route or not? Iolaus asked himself, jogging down the silent street with Autolycus at his heels. It would be slower but less obvious to go through the residential area. No, Hercules was right, Davrios will expect us to go straight after him, he won't be laying ambushes on the other side of the city. "We'll go this way, up the Nobles Avenue," he said, mostly to himself.

"When travelling in a haunted city filled with nameless terrors, it's always best to go first class," Autolycus agreed from behind him.

The statues and huge columns looming out of the dark made Iolaus feel as if this was a city of giants. Dead giants. He had only seen this city warm and teeming with people; even late into the night there had been music, laughter, crowds. "The people have to be here somewhere," he said. Alexandria and the other cities they had passed along the river hadn't been deserted. Confused to the verge of panic maybe, but the inhabitants had still been in evidence. Though it hadn't been quite as dark there as it seemed to be here. But the place was far too silent. "They can't all be..." He didn't want to finish the sentence.

Autolycus put in, "Maybe they all went to the coast, where it's not quite so hard to see the nameless terrors."

Iolaus snorted dryly. "I hate to tell you, Auto, but it's the terrors you can name that are actually the worst." He realized what he had said and swore under his breath. "Great, I just creeped myself out."

"Yeah, Curly, that was very helpful," Autolycus told him dryly. Sounding frustrated, he added, "And who is this Kheper character you guys keep bringing up?"

Iolaus thought about how to answer that question, and settled for, "He's the sorcerer that brought me back to life."

"Oh." Autolycus was silent for a few paces, digesting that. "I'm not big on sorcerers."

"Well, don't tell him that."

***

Davrios wasn't making much effort to be subtle. Hercules wasn't sure if it meant the sorcerer was by nature careless or that he simply had no respect for his opponents' intelligence. Hopefully both, he thought, dodging around the remains of a basket shop that now sprawled across the dark street. The feeling that Davrios wasn't the real danger was stronger, and he would take any advantage he could get.

An obelisk with a substantial chunk missing drew him out of the narrow commercial street into a wide processional avenue, lined with statues of seated sphinxes. Pausing to survey the ground, he saw some of them seemed to be missing their heads. At the far end, framed between the pylons that marked the temple's entrance, he could see the glow of firelight. Right. To stroll right up that invitingly open space would be playing along with Davrios' game, but Hercules was tired of playing. He turned back for the cover of the maze of alleys and smaller streets.

The emptiness of the mudbrick buildings worried him more than anything else. In the cramped quarters of all these homes and marketstalls and workshops he passed there was no breath of sound, no movement, no sense that the frightened inhabitants watched him pass. He hadn't seen any corpses, but that wasn't exactly reassuring either. What did he do to them? he wondered, sick at heart. And could they find a way to undo it?

He reached the end of an alley and found the way blocked by a two-story mudbrick building. A tumbledown shack next to it provided a handy ladder, and within a few moments he was crouched behind a low parapet on the roof, with a good view.

He was looking down on the wide open forecourt of the temple of Amun-Re, at the end of the avenue of sphinxes. Unlike anywhere else in the city, it was lit with an array of torches. And in the center.... Oh yeah. Hercules' mouth twisted grimly. If I didn't think it was a trap before, I'd know it now.

***

Kheper's house was on the high ground, looking down on the city. There was a wall around the rambling one story building, but Iolaus knew it was just there to keep other people's goats out of the garden, as no mortal enemy would dare cross that barrier and it was no impediment at all to the immortal enemies. He lifted the latch on the wooden gate and swung it open.

It was the same palm tree-lined courtyard, with a long reflecting pool that lay in front of the house's broad porch. But halfway across the open court, between the gate and the pool, was a large dark form. It's a cat statue, Iolaus thought, puzzled at its placement right in the middle of the path. The thing was nearly twenty feet tall. Then he saw its tail flick in a restless, lion-like movement. "Oh, great," he breathed.

"I take it that's not a lawn ornament." Autolycus stared. "It's a--"

"It's a sphinx," Iolaus said, squinting at the creature. He could make out the lion's body now, the distinctive square shape of the head. He could see its flanks move as it breathed.

"I know that, Sidekick, thanks," Autolycus muttered, "But what are we going to do about it?"

It had to be guarding the house. In which case, it should be friendly. He hoped. Iolaus took a sharp breath. "We get past it."

"Yeah, I was afraid you were going to say that. Well, I guess you haven't seen Egypt until you've been eaten by a sphinx." Autolycus considered the creature again, fingering his grappling hook. "Don't we have to ask it a riddle?"

"That's a myth. Wait here." Iolaus stepped forward slowly, holding his hands out and empty, leaving his sword sheathed across his back. "We're here to see Kheper," he said to the sphinx.

He was perhaps ten paces away when the massive stone head darted for him like a striking snake. He leapt backward but his feet slipped in the soft sand and he sat down hard, clawing for his sword. But the head stopped, frozen just a few feet above him. Breathing hard, Iolaus eased back away from it.

The blank stone eyes tracked his progress, though the rest of the creature didn't move. As he pushed to his feet Autolycus caught his arm, giving him a hand up. "You okay?" he asked nervously.

Iolaus nodded. "Yeah. It...stopped."

"The god knows you," it said suddenly in perfect Greek, making both men flinch. Its voice was deep and raspy, with a rumbling echo, as if it was speaking to them from the bottom of a cavern. The stone eyes passed from Iolaus to rest on Autolycus. "The god does not know you."

"Well, there's no accounting for taste," Autolycus informed it acidly.

"He's with me," Iolaus told it firmly.

The massive head hung there in silence for another moment, then it lifted. "You may enter."

Uneasily, Autolycus glanced at Iolaus. "Are we sure we want to enter?" he asked, low-voiced. "It didn't say anything about leaving afterward."

"What god knows me?" Iolaus demanded. "Who's controlling you?"

It watched them blankly and didn't answer.

"Ask it in a riddle," Autolycus suggested. "Here, let me. Hey, stone-face, listen up. What has three--"

"Will you stop with the riddles?" Gritting his teeth to keep from shouting, Iolaus grabbed Autolycus' tunic, shaking him. "I told you that was a myth!"

"Okay, okay!" Autolycus freed himself with an annoyed wriggle. "I'm just trying to help."

Iolaus took a deep breath, sheathed his sword, and started for the tall doorway behind the sphinx. Autolycus muttered something inaudible and fell into step behind him.

He crossed the tree-lined courtyard, going up the graveled path around the reflecting pool to the lotus-columned porch. It felt weird to be here again, visiting a place so familiar it seemed engraved on his senses. Especially with Autolycus trailing along after him. As Iolaus reached the porch he saw the door stood open and he stopped to call out, "Kheper! Anyone here?"

No answer. That's not good. He stepped inside to the reception room but it was too dark to make out much. He felt for a wall niche and found an alabaster oil lamp. After a moment fumbling with flint and tinder, he got it lit again. The flicker of light revealed the familiar room, empty, the walls painted with reeds and dragonflies and the hall beyond with its columns covered with carved and painted picture writing. Iolaus led Autolycus on a quick tour of the house, but the other rooms were empty, with no sign of Kheper, Tawaret or Dahluka-ta-sherit, or even Nesmut. The monkey wasn't even here and all the cats seemed to be hiding. Nothing looked disturbed, there was no sign of a fight or a hasty departure, but the emptiness of the place was making Iolaus' flesh creep. Finally there was only one more room to search.

"Nice digs," Autolycus commented, as Iolaus pulled open one of the double doors that led to Kheper's workroom. "Since this guy's a sorcerer, I was expecting something more-- Gah!" He stopped dead at the entrance, staring in horror.

"Will you be quiet?" Iolaus snapped. The lamplight illuminated only a small portion of the huge chamber. The stone of the walls and pillars were covered with more of the Egyptian picture writing, scrawled in dark ink over every available surface. Iolaus headed for the cluttered work area near the door, where a few low tables were piled with clays pots and jars and piles of scrolls and parchments. On the wall behind them were shelves, holding hundreds more oddly-shaped boxes and containers.

Autolycus was staring at the other half of the room and the big black slab of basalt altar with the twenty foot tall statue of the jackal-headed god Anubis looming over it, gold gleaming faintly on its headpiece and harness. Beyond the altar was the natron pit with the winch arrangement that lifted its heavy stone cover. "This guy...brought you back to life...here?" he asked, sounding aghast.

"Yeah." Distracted, Iolaus glanced around. "In fact it was right there." He jerked his head toward the altar.

Autolycus, about to touch the smooth black surface, jerked his hand back. "Huh." He turned back to find a lamp in one of the wall niches and light it. "I thought all this character did was wave his magic wand or something. This looks rather...clinical."

Wave a magic wand? Iolaus snorted, still occupied with looking over the scrolls on the table for some hint of what had happened. "Why did you come, anyway? On this trip. You didn't have to."

Autolycus shrugged, taking his lamp back to the statue to cautiously study it. He retreated from it with a grimace and a shudder. "I figure I owe Hercules one."

Iolaus frowned. "What for?"

"Before he hared off here after you last time, I heard he was looking for me. I didn't come. I owe him one." He threw Iolaus a dark look. "But don't get all mushy over it."

Iolaus shook his head. Sometimes he didn't get Auto, sometimes he just thought he did. He sat on his heels to read an open scroll, turning it so the picture writing was right side up. He knew a little of the Egyptian writing from the copy of the Book of Coming Forth By Day he had brought back to Greece, enough to tell this was a calendar of the big temple holidays. He traced down the page, biting his lip, trying to match this to Corinth's much less exact calendar. "It's the Feast of Amun-Re. At least it was, not long ago. I think."

"And what's that when it's at home?" Autolycus asked, his voice echoing faintly.

"It's a big religious day. They take the statues of the gods out of their temples and cart them around to visit each other. Dress the statues up in new clothes--" He glanced back to see Autolycus' incredulous expression and shrugged. "I know, I know. It's weird, but they enjoy it. The biggest part is when they take Amun-Re from the temple at Karnak to the temple at Luxor."

"So it's like a big holiday for the gods." Autolycus stopped, cocked his head, then frowned at Iolaus. "And why did that innocuous phrase just fill me with dread?"

It had filled Iolaus with dread too. He said slowly, "Because if the gods are on holiday--"

"Then who's minding the store?"

Iolaus frowned as he got to his feet, not liking the implications. He looked at the silent statue of Anubis. He would give a lot to see the dark jackal god walk out of that polished obsidian surface and offer some advice right now, even if he couldn't understand a word it said. "It still doesn't tell us where they went." The scrolls and jars on the table looked orderly enough; at least the room hadn't been disturbed by any kind of fight. Then Autolycus said sharply, "Iolaus."

He looked around, saw Autolycus on the far side of the big room, past the altar and the statue, holding up a lamp to study something on the floor. You know it's bad when he actually calls you by your name, Iolaus thought grimly, starting over to him.

Halfway there he saw the symbols written on the stone floor, the light from Autolycus' lamp catching the dark red splashes. They formed a circle on the stone, and hidden by the altar, slumped just outside that circle... "Kheper!"

The sorcerer was collapsed in a huddle. Iolaus fell to his knees, grasping the black-clothed shoulders. He pulled Kheper back so he could see his face, but he already knew the worst. There was no warmth under his hands.

Kheper's head fell back limply against Iolaus' arm. His eyes were still open, one covered by a white film and one brown, but now glassy and fixed on nothing. The ragged black robes draping the sorcerer's squat round shape revealed no blood, no wound. Livid scars marked his cheeks and patterns of blue and red tattoos covered his bald skull, vivid and clearly visible against his dark skin, but that was normal.

Iolaus swore bitterly, then made himself say it aloud. "He's dead."

"Yeah." Autolycus winced in sympathy. "Looks like he's been that way a while."

"No. He...always looked like that." Iolaus eased him down to lay flat on the stone floor, with that instinct to let the dead rest in a comfortable position, though he of all people should know how pointless that was. He sat back and passed a hand over his face, looking away. "He was an immortal."

"Immortal doesn't mean invulnerable."

"I know that," Iolaus snapped. "Believe me, I know that."

"Take it easy, Curly," Autolycus said gruffly. Iolaus felt him ruffle his hair. "We're not licked yet."

Right. Think. There had to be some clue here to what had happened. He gestured helplessly to the symbols written on the floor. Some looked vaguely like the picture writing, but he couldn't make head or tail of it. "He was doing a spell. Had done a spell." He saw one of Kheper's gnarled hands was clutched in a fist. Carefully he pried it open, hearing something click against the armor of scarab rings and the little metal claws attached to the sorcerer's fingers. He managed to get the death grip to release and saw Kheper had held a handful of bright colored stones, some with crystal lights deep inside. Something for the spell. He hesitated, but without a clue what it was, he couldn't afford to disturb it. He shook his head, setting the hand carefully down.

He stood, taking a deep breath. "We need to find Herc. And I think I know where he's going to be." He thought they were right about the gods' holiday being involved in all this somehow. And if it was, whatever had happened, it had happened at the temple of Amun-Re.

***

The sphinx ignored them as they left the house; it was apparently enspelled just to guard, not to answer questions. Driven by urgency, Iolaus led Autolycus a direct route from the high ground where Kheper's house stood back down into the city. They ducked through empty houses, deserted stables and goat pens, and an abandoned goldsmith's workshop where the beaten gold for collars and armbands and rings lay scattered like straw on the dirt floor, gleaming faintly in the starlight. Iolaus thought that would give Autolycus pause, but the King of Thieves seemed more emotionally affected than anything else. "Damn, this is giving me the creeps," he confided just after that, as they reached the narrower streets of the lower city. "It's like a ghost city, except even the ghosts scrammed."

They crossed Davrios' trail at the avenue of sphinxes that led to Amun-Re's temple, and Iolaus spotted the firelight through the temple gates. "There, that's the temple. And it looks like something's going on there." He looked around at the surrounding roofs, trying to figure out where Hercules would be.

Autolycus stopped abruptly. "Did you hear--"

Iolaus stepped sideways, drawing his sword. "Yeah." It had been a low animal noise, a little too high pitched for a growl. He hoped it was some noble's stray hunting cat, but he had the feeling that wasn't going to be the case. Not in this haunted city. He heard an answering hoot from the opposite side of the avenue, and a scuffle as something light and fast moved over the stone. He turned to face it, putting his back toward Autolycus. "It sounds like apes. Or primoids," he said softly.

"They have those in Egypt?" Autolycus mused, swinging his grappling hook and managing to make it look casual. "You learn something new every day."

"That might be-- Hey!"

A dark shape flew at Iolaus and he ducked sideways, slashing at it. Two more followed the first before he could take a breath and in an instant there were dozens. Iolaus whirled, ducked and thrust, peripherally aware of Autolycus whipping his grappling hook like a mace, driving off a growling cluster of the things.

This could be bad, Iolaus thought, teeth gritted, shoving away a creature that clawed for his throat. Then Hercules landed in the middle of the fight, sending three of them flying with a blow from a broken post. Iolaus swore in relief and set to driving the rest of the things off.

Most were dead or fled when one large suicidal one flung itself straight at him. His sword caught in its chest, knocking him over backward as the thing's body slammed him into the ground. It had a wiry build and he felt bristly hair under his hand as he shoved it off, grimacing at the rank odor of it.

Hercules was at his side as he rolled to his feet. "All right?"

"Yeah." Iolaus couldn't make out any more movement among the row of sphinx statues, but that didn't mean anything. "What were they?" he demanded. "Some kind of ape?"

"Some wacky kind of ape," Autolycus answered, sounding taken aback. "Take a look at those teeth. Yeesh."

Autolycus had crouched down to examine one of the dead creatures. Iolaus saw him lift the thing's muzzle, exposing a long snout that should belong to a crocodile, the teeth gleaming in the starlight. Iolaus grimaced. "That's about all we needed." He looked up at Hercules, taking a deep breath. "We found Kheper."

Hercules read his expression, his brows drawing together. "Dead?"

"Yeah." Iolaus somehow didn't want to say it.

Hercules grimaced. He didn't want to believe it. It was deeply worrying that whatever had happened here, it had been powerful enough to take out Kheper. Hercules had seen a little of what the sorcerer was capable of. And he didn't want to think of that irascible old man who had done so much for him as.... "Permanently?"

Iolaus shrugged one shoulder, shaking his head. "I couldn't tell," he admitted.

"What do you mean, permanently? How would--" Autolycus began, then rolled his eyes and muttered, "Sorry, I forgot who I was talking to. Go on."

"Did you find Davrios?" Iolaus asked urgently.

Hercules nodded. "I found the trap. Come on."

***

From the vantage point of the roof that looked down on the temple's forecourt, Iolaus winced. Yeah. That's got trap written all over it. The court was large and square, floored with paving stones and surrounded by a low wall lined with carved columns, and lit now with dozens of torches in brackets. Two great pylons marked the entrance to the court, and another two the entrance to the building itself. In the open space in the center a wooden post had been erected, the cracked stone around its base showing it had been thrust straight through the paving into the ground beneath. Nebula was standing beside it, her hands in manacles chained to the post. It was hard to tell at this distance, but she looked unhurt, and she was still wearing the russet gown. Behind her, a group of about twenty people huddled on the pavement, men, women, and even a few children. They were all dressed in white, with gold glinting on collars and armbands, and some of the men had the shaved heads and leopard-skin capes of the priests. They were people from the temple, obviously, but he couldn't see what was keeping them from fleeing. "Why are they-- Oh, never mind."

Davrios' four-armed troll, its skin dark red in the torchlight, stalked out of the shelter of the columns along the wall, its growl audible even up here. It was swinging a large spike-studded club.

"Oh yeah," Autolycus commented, crouched on the roof next to Iolaus. "It wouldn't be a party without Uglycakes there. So, what's the plan, dare I ask?"

Hercules sat up, shifting back away from the roof's edge. "We need a distraction out front, so we can go in the back. We can use Autolycus to--"

Inspiration struck and Iolaus pushed himself up to face Hercules, lifting his brows. "Davrios -- or whoever's in there -- doesn't know Auto is with us."

"As far as we know." Hercules eyed him warily. "But--"

"As far as we know, he doesn't know you're here," Iolaus persisted. "His ogre-thing tried to grab me, right before you got there. Maybe it was going to kill me, but maybe Davrios wanted to make sure you'd follow him, and he wasn't entirely sure you'd do that for Nebula." The idea was even better the more he thought about it. Bouncing with excitement, he continued, "So what if I go in the front and act like I'm here alone, while you and Auto go in the back."

Hercules shook his head. "Hold it, I don't think--"

"Because we have to remember," Iolaus delivered this with a certain amount of satisfaction. "This is not about who's going to be taking the biggest risk, it's about acting together to get Nebula out of danger. And we don't have time to argue about it."

Hercules' concerned frown turned into an annoyed glare. Autolycus nodded solemnly, giving the demigod a conciliatory slap on the back, commenting, "Yeah, I knew that one was going to come back to bite you in the ass."

***

It needed to look like a real attempt at a rescue, rather than just a distraction. To this end, Iolaus went back to a deserted weapons shop for nobles that Hercules had noticed on his way here. In the dark silence of the deserted stall, he selected a powerful bow, built up of layers of horn and tough springy wood, covered over with bark. It was curved in the reverse direction of the shot, to give added power. Iolaus thought if anything would do the job, this was it. He took a quiver of war arrows with sharp copper points and a coil of rope as well.

Hercules and Autolycus had already left to make their way around the side of the temple complex and enter from a less conspicuous spot. The complex was large, most of it unlit, and they knew from their previous time here there was a second pylon gate opening to an avenue to the temple of Mut. It would be easier to go over the wall there, but Hercules had made it clear he was not reconciled to this plan.

"Come on, this is always the plan," Iolaus had said, trying to mollify him. They were standing in the alleyway behind the building they had used to spy on the temple forecourt, and Iolaus could barely see the demigod in the deep shadow. "I distract them, you jump them. This is how it always works."

Hercules made an annoyed huffing noise. "Why is that not filling me with confidence? There's still too much we don't know. Who's behind Davrios, what happened to Kheper, who set the sphinx to guard his house--"

The fact that the demigod was right about all this made it even more frustrating. Exasperated, Iolaus demanded, "Do you have a better idea?"

"No! Look, just--" Hercules gestured vaguely, then rested a hand Iolaus' shoulder. "I just--"

He was interrupted by Autolycus saying, "Hey, I'm averting my eyes, but hurry it up. We don't have all night. Well, we have all the night we can handle, but--"

Hercules swore under his breath, clapping a hand over his eyes. Iolaus said tiredly, "Just be careful, and don't get mad and punch Auto...more than you have to."

Making his way back to the temple now, alert for any sign of the crocodile-ape creatures, Iolaus thought Hercules and Autolycus should have had enough time to get around the side of the temple. Right. Let's get this over with. He paused to string the powerful bow, then slung it over his shoulder.

He approached the temple entrance carefully. The wooden gates, carved with lotus shapes, were shut and firelight from the torches along the walls revealed the brightly-colored picture writing covering the sloping sides of the two guardian pylons. Moving down the wall, Iolaus tied a loop in the end of the rope, eyeing the stone projections along the top.

He stepped back and cast the rope, leaning to test it when it caught. Swarming up, he crawled onto the top of the wall, flattening himself onto the cool stone surface.

Damn, that is one big mother of a troll, he thought with a grimace. It stalked near the huddled group of captives, swinging the spike-studded club, the torchlight glinting off its red skin. Nebula still stood chained to the pillar, and from here he could see her grim expression. Behind her, the group of hostages huddled on the pavement.

Iolaus took a deep breath and shoved to his feet, calming and centering himself. He was only going to get the one shot and it had to hit the target. Slipping the bow off his shoulder, he nocked an arrow, shouting, "Troll! Remember me?"

It spun around, snarling, and in the instant its eyes searched for him along the top of the wall, Iolaus drew and fired.

The arrow struck true, right into the troll's left eye. It shrieked in agony, staggering, clawing at the shaft. Iolaus whooped in triumph, stepped to the edge of the wall and leapt down, landing on his feet on the paved court. Iolaus started to draw another arrow, meaning to use it to split Nebula's chains, but the way she stood he didn't have a clear shot.

Swearing, Iolaus bolted toward her, wondering if Davrios had drugged her. He couldn't think why she hadn't turned toward him. "Hey, hostages, everybody run for the front gate! Come on, what are you waiting--" He slid to an abrupt halt. She still wasn't looking at him, the hostages weren't running. He studied her, taking another step forward, realizing from this closer vantage point that the russet silk gown wasn't torn or stained, that it looked as fine as it had in the palace's banquet hall. And she was wearing two gold armbands. "Oh, shit," Iolaus breathed aloud. He touched the band on his wrist, the one Auto had found on the boat. He was certain it was hers. She left it as a warning. She realized Davrios was making a duplicate of her, an illusion, and-- He drew another arrow and just to make sure, aimed at the wooden pillar well above her head. The shaft flew straight, right through the pillar, striking the stone wall of the temple some distance beyond it.

Iolaus swore again. Nebula, the hostages, it was all an illusion. All this trouble to avoid the trap and we walked right into it. He looked wildly around, but the troll still clawed at its eye and the bright red fluid streaming from the mortal wound, staggering on the paving stones. If it was a trap, then why hadn't it sprung yet?

Because it's not a trap for you, he thought suddenly, aghast. If this was just a distraction, then the real trap must be inside, and Hercules and Autolycus were walking right into it.

He ran for the temple's main door, a large gold portal set between two carved and painted pylons. Reaching it, he tugged at the gold handle, expecting it to be heavy, and almost fell in a heap when the door swung wide, light as a feather. He looked back, just in time to see Nebula, the pillar, and the group of hostages disappear. Swearing, Iolaus plunged into the temple.

***

Hercules hadn't been inside the temple of Amun-Re on their previous visit, but from what he understood of Egyptian temples it should follow a standard plan of peristyle halls, each more important than the one before, leading up to the sanctuary, with a series of chambers off to the side for various purposes.

He and Autolycus made their way around to the east side, passing the great pylon gate that opened into the other avenue of sphinxes, leading to the temple of Mut. With Autolycus' grappling hook they got over the wall and crossed an empty sand-paved court, ominous and silent in the dark. A series of walled compounds and gates lay between this court and the torchlit one where Nebula and the other hostages were being held. Pausing to look toward it, Hercules could only catch a hint of reflected firelight. Iolaus, be careful, he thought, something he couldn't say aloud too often since Iolaus never wanted to hear it. Autolycus tapped him impatiently on the arm and he realized he had stopped in his tracks, still looking toward that muted glow of light past the walls. He nodded and kept moving.

There was just enough light to keep them from falling into the reflecting pool that lay just before the temple wall. Following the wall, Autolycus tripped over a set of broad steps and they went up to a terrace where a darker square in the wall marked a wide doorway. Hercules caught Autolycus' jerkin and hauled him back before the King of Thieves could step inside. He wasn't entirely sure the expected trap wasn't in the temple, and if it was, he wanted to be the one to walk into it.

Leaving Autolycus straightening his tunic in a pointedly huffy way, Hercules stepped through the door. He paused just inside, letting his eyes adjust. After a moment he could tell there was another doorway in the wall ahead, outlined by faint candlelight. Making his way across the room with Autolycus following in silence, he took a cautious look through the opening.

It led into one of the wide peristyle halls, where alabaster oil lamps guttered in gold stands, chasing shadows over tall columns covered with the picture writing picked out in bright colored inlay. He thought they were about midway down the length of the temple, not far from the sanctuary. He had to make sure Davrios wasn't lurking in the back part of the temple. A breath of wind brushed his skin, making his flesh creep; the temple did not feel unoccupied. I have a bad feeling about this, he thought grimly. Though he hadn't seen Amun-Re manifested long enough to get a strong sense of its presence, he knew that whatever was here, it wasn't the god the temple had been built to honor.

Hercules started down the hall, the dark marble floor so finely polished it threw back the ghost of his reflection flanked by little pools of fire from the oil lamps. He could smell the heavy temple incense, a mix of myrrh and sandalwood, but under it was something sour, like the odor of rot. Autolycus had his grappling hook out and kept darting worried looks up into the shadows clustered just beneath the ceiling, as if he sensed something watching them.

There were doors between some of the pillars, leading into side chambers. Hercules paused to look into each one they encountered, but all were empty. They were nearing a set of golden doors that must open into the sanctuary. Cross corridors led off to the right and left, but no lamps were lit in either and they were just dark echoing spaces. But as they drew closer to the sanctuary doors Hercules saw those weren't shadows obscuring the incised metal, but burns, as if a ghidra had forced its way in. Oh, I'd be grateful if it was just a ghidra, he thought, ready to be unpleasantly surprised.

Then soundlessly the doors started to open. "And here I was hoping nobody was home," Autolycus muttered, heartfelt.

Hercules braced to charge whatever sprang out at them but as the doors opened, he stared, baffled.

The space beyond was lit by leaping firelight and there was no mistaking what he saw. Lying in an unconscious heap on the marble floor just past the doors, her dress a pool of russet silk around her, was Nebula. If that's her, who -- what -- is Iolaus rescuing outside?

Autolycus frowned, eyeing her suspiciously. "Hey, isn't that--"

"Uh huh." Hercules stepped forward, cautiously scanning the room that lay beyond. It was a vast shadowy chamber, flanked by pillars soaring up into darkness. A three step dais at its center led up to a low altar that stood just before a large empty plinth. Fires burned in great pits to either side of the altar and a big alabaster bowl suspended overhead held burning sweet scented oil. To one side a granite statue lay shattered on the floor. Iolaus was right, this did happen on the Feast of Amun Re, the day they move the statues. The room looked blasted, the stone walls and pillars bare of gold or inlay or paint, blackened and stained with soot. Gouged-out shapes in the walls and altar suggested ankhs and other carved or inlaid symbols had been forcibly removed. Considering that the ankh represented life, he couldn't see that as a favorable sign. There was no evidence of Davrios, or anyone other than Nebula.

She stirred, making a pain-filled murmur, and tried to lift a hand to her head. Hercules saw her hands and feet were bound and had to give up on caution. He took the last few steps into the room, stooping to snap the rope around her ankles and hauling her to her feet. Her gown was torn and stained with sweat and dirt, and blood matted the hair above her temple. "Ow," she muttered through gritted teeth, then opened her eyes and saw him. "Get out of here, you idiot, it's a trap," she growled.

Warily trying to watch the room and the open hallway at the same time, Autolycus snorted. "Ask the dame something we don't know."

"Don't worry about it." Hercules freed her hands and started to lift her up, then halted abruptly.

There was a figure standing in front of the altar where none had been before, framed by the firelight. Hercules felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck. It was dressed as an Egyptian noble, in pleated linen robe and gold beaded collar. But its limbs were gray and desiccated, its head a skull with dead flesh stretched over it, eyes white and staring, teeth bared in a permanent rictus smile.

Autolycus saw it and made a strangled gasp. It cocked its head, stepped down off the dais, and said, "So you came."

Its voice rasped in its throat and Hercules expected its dry skin and bones to crackle with each step, but its robe swept soundlessly over the marble. Yeah, we're in trouble. Hercules said brightly, "Sorry, wrong temple, we were looking for Davrios." He deposited Nebula in Autolycus' arms, adding, "Get her out of here."

"Davrios." It spoke the name as if recalling some long dead figure of legend. "I owe him a great debt. He found my tomb, and did the ceremony of the Opening of the Mouth on my husk, which--"

"I know what it does." Hercules knew it well. It was part of the process for returning a dead body to life. He didn't want to spare a look over his shoulder. "Auto, are you gone yet?"

Autolycus backed toward the doors, pulling Nebula with him, saying with tension, "Not that I'm inclined to argue, Big Guy, but I think you should be running too."

Nebula was half leaning on him to stay upright, half trying to shake him off. "Hercules, he wants you. Get out of there," she said desperately.

Ignoring them all, the creature said, "If you know of the Opening of the Mouth, then you know more than Davrios."

"I'd like to leave, believe me," Hercules answered Autolycus and Nebula, his voice grating in his own ears. "But I can't move my feet." He had been unable to move since the creature had stepped down off the dais. It was a distinctly unsettling sensation, as if the lower half of his body had turned to stone. He knew that wasn't the worst. "And I didn't come all this way to not rescue anybody, so Auto, get her out of here, warn Iolaus."

It was close to him now and he could see it wore a gold circlet on its head, with a small carved vulture just above its brow. He knew that was a royal symbol, something only a Pharaoh or a Queen should w