She laughed, and didn't pull away. "Yes."
"Yes what?"
"Yes, she has killed before, but her father's so rich, it doesn't matter as long as she does it to someone who doesn't matter. And you're right about us." She hesitated, moistening her lips nervously. "I... I'm not sure."
"Look," he said, holding up a finger, "Hercules and 1 already know you're not rebels, so you're not talking out of turn. Believe me, we've been up against the real thing more times than I care to remember.
But," he added when he noticed the distressed look on her face, "we're not going to turn you in, either. We also know something's not right around here, and if you need help, we'll be glad to give it."
She touched his nose with a finger. "You're cute."
Oh, boy, he thought; oh . . . boy.
"It's a short story, though," she said.
And leaned toward him.
Without blushing.
Iolaus swallowed. "Stretch it," he suggested. "I've got all night."
Her gaze wandered over his face while her expression told him that she was inwardly debating. A moral dilemma. When she finally made her decision, she did so with a deep breath that had him gasping once, blinking twice, and reaching hastily for his goblet.
"I'm going to tell you about Klothon," she announced.
Iolaus was baffled. "What? Who's that?"
"Not a who. It's a what."
"What?"
She nodded.
He took a drink, lifted a finger, and said, carefully, "What?"
"Yes."
"Yes ... what?"
She frowned. "Right. What."
"What what?"
"Huh?"
He took another drink. A long one this time, and waved the goblet for a refill. While he waited he ran through the conversation again, as slowly as he could. Without looking at her.
It worked.
"Klothon isn't a who," he concluded. "It's a what."
"That's what I said."
"Okay. And what, exactly, is it?"
"Well, for one thing, if you don't leave before the queen is crowned, it's the thing that's going to kill you."
Hercules woke to the sound of laughter in the street, and the distant heralding of trumpets. For a second he could not recall where he was, could recall only the night spent by the ocean. When he did at last get his bearings, he sat up with a muffled groan, rubbed his eyes, looked around the room blearily, and nearly fell back again when he saw someone slumped in his chair.
Iolaus, his eyes closed, moaned, hands pressed to his head, legs outstretched.
"Good morning," Hercules said as he reached his arms over his head.
"Don't yell. I can hear you."
Hercules lowered his voice, but couldn't help a grin. "Hard night?"
Iolaus nodded, moaned, and let one hand fall wearily to the armrest. His eyes didn't open. " I spent practically the whole night here. All in the line of duty, I want you to know."
"I'm sure it was."
Iolaus grunted, knowing his friend didn't believe him. ' 'As a matter of fact, while you were out doing .
.. whatever ... I was talking to some of our so-called rebels. The three women we saw in the cave."
Hercules lifted an eyebrow. "Really?"
Iolaus made a face. "Yes. Really. You want to know what 1 found out?"
Hercules stretched again and yawned loudly. "Sure, why not?"
"Well, for one thing, they're not really rebels''
Hercules nodded. "We figured that one right.*'
"Yeah, but what we didn't figure is that they're being paid by someone to make trouble. It isn't much, but they're not rich. They could use the dinars. Venitia doesn't know who the money man is, but that Rotus guy probably does since he's the one who hands it out."
Hercules wasn't really surprised. From what the fake rebels and Holix had said, he already suspected Titus Perical was somehow behind it. Stirring up the political pot, he pointed out, was an easy way to stay in power until he didn't want to stay in power any longer. Especially since he didn't seem to be that terrible a ruler.
"That's what she said," Iolaus confirmed. "Do you have any idea how much wine a little woman like that can drink?'
"Nope."
"It's disgusting. It was all I could do to keep up with her."
Hercules pushed back on the bed and leaned against the wall, the window over his left shoulder. Street sounds increased as the city continued to awaken, and the tinted light slipping into the room told him there was probably haze in the sky. Iolaus, however, was too hungover to notice much of anything. It figured that with the entire rebel band undoubtedly roaming the city, he would be the one to happen upon the women. It also figured that with his kind of luck, they would be able to outlast him in a drinking contest.
Based on the way the poor guy looked, it was a miracle he was able to breathe, much less sit up without falling over.
Nevertheless, Hercules said, "You did well."
"Say that in my eulogy." Iolaus moaned louder and winced. "By the way, she also said there's a monster around."
"Klothon."
Iolaus opened one eye. "You know?"
Hercules nodded, and described his visit with Poseidon, although he managed to leave out the dunking part at the end. Iolaus wouldn't have forgotten it, and wouldn't have let him forget it, either.
The eye closed. "Damn. I could have saved myself some trouble."
Hercules laughed. "Oh, right. A lot of trouble you went to."
"I did, Herc! You have no idea what it was like, interrogating that woman. She's very clever, you know. Sneaky. I had to use every trick in the book to learn what I did." He sighed. "Maybe she'll come to my funeral."
"There will be a funeral, a double one, if I don't get something to eat soon. I've starving, and we have a full day ahead of us."
So saying, he got up, hauled a protesting Iolaus to his feet, and got them both downstairs for a breakfast he made sure was as large as he could eat, just to watch his friend squirm. Iolaus only drank water, and managed a few bites of bread.
Afterward they stood in front of the inn, watching the pedestrians stream leisurely toward the plaza. Bright clothing was the order of the day, no matter what the station of the wearer. Slow-moving chariots festooned with feathers and ribbons pressed down the boulevard's center, joined by carts and wagons similarly outfitted. The horses were also festively decked out for the occasion—manes and tails were braided and wound through with gold and silver threads; some horses wore standing plumes between their ears, and one had a depiction of Mount Olympus painted on its flank.
The sidelines weren't immune to the festivities, either, as merchants hawked their wares in front of their shops, offering everything from rare antique statues of Demeter and Poseidon to tiny rugs handwoven by goddess-blessed maidens who lived alone in the mountains and never saw the light of day.
It was a street of scams and chaos, but no one seemed to mind.
"I'm going deaf," Iolaus complained in the din.
Hercules gave him a sympathetic nudge, although he noticed that his friend wasn't so far in his grave that he didn't glance lasciviously at many of the ladies parading by.
"Now what?" Iolaus rubbed his hands together, his hangover seemingly cured by the excitement and bustle of the festival.
They weren't expected until the ceremonial banquet at sunset, the judging to follow, but the temptation to join the plaza throng was powerful. It would be, Hercules admitted, a fine way to spend the day: watching acrobats and trained animals, listening to music, sampling good food until they were ready to burst. Or they could go down to the harbor and do the same thing, this time with a nautical twist.
"I vote for the plaza," Iolaus answered quickly. "The water reminds me there's that Klothon thing out there. I'll want to eat lunch, not be lunch."
Hercules shook his head. When Iolaus didn't argue, something had to be wrong. "Something the matter?"
Iolaus passed a hand over his face
. "No. Well. .. no. It's just that I seem to remember Venitia telling me something I should remember to tell you, but I can't remember what she said it was."
Hercules sounded dubious. "If there was anything at all, that is."
"Yeah." Iolaus nodded. "That's the problem."
"It'll come to you," Hercules told him. "Let's
go."
"The plaza?"
"The stables."
“Oh, sure, that was easily my third choice. Nothing like the bracing aroma of manure first thing in the morning. Best cure for a hangover." He scowled. "Either you're trying to kill me, or teach me a lesson, right?"
For an answer Hercules gave his shoulder a gentle shove, and they stepped into the crowd. While they walked to the stables he explained that he wanted to
have another talk with Holix. Although Iolaus didn't see the reason for it, he didn't object. His head was still throbbing, his legs felt like rubber stilts, and the thought of facing an entire city population crammed into one space was more than he could handle.
It would probably kill him, he asserted.
Hercules laughed heartily, much to Iolaus' chagrin, and then asked if Iolaus had figured out how they were going to deal with the dilemma of having both to pick and not pick a queen that night.
Iolaus stared at him, baffled.
Hercules explained. ' 'If we pick someone, she dies, Iolaus. Therefore we shouldn't pick any of the contestants. But then how are we going to not pick anyone and still make sure the festival isn't ruined?"
Iolaus thought about that one for a while. "You got it all wrong, Herc, though it doesn't much matter in the end."
Now it was Hercules' turn to look baffled. "Come again?"
Iolaus sighed with the effort of thinking. "How are we going to pick one when, according to the kid, Titus has already decided on the winner? You don't think he's going to try to bribe us, do you?"
They swerved around a pair of well-dressed, corpulent men arguing in the middle of the street. Each stood in a garishly decorated chariot drawn by horses who looked to Hercules to be glad for the respite. A crowd had begun to gather around them, suggesting possible epithets and curses for the men to hurl at each other. There was, for the moment, more laughter than anger.
The stable's alley was just beyond, and when Hercules and Iolaus broke free of the crowd, Hercules glanced skyward and said, "Maybe we'll get lucky."
As he had thought, a haze covered the sky's usual sharp blue, the sun a distant smear of faded gold.
Iolaus followed his gaze, and frowned. "Hercules, no offense, but I don't think any rain is going to stop this ceremony. It's too important to these people."
"Wishful thinking, my friend, just wishful thinking."
The stable seemed empty as they approached it, which Hercules thought was odd. Holix had told him that all the serious training was done at a facility near the city's outskirts, but that the horses would be brought here before dawn, to get them ready for the parades. But he saw no chariots or decorated wagons, and except for those who passed the alley's far end, he saw no people either.
No windows in the facing walls, scattered piles of discarded planks and garbage thrown at their base.
Although the surrounding rooftops didn't overhang the narrow passage, still the light seemed dimmer, less friendly.
Iolaus stopped. "Herc."
Hercules stopped as well. They were some twenty yards from the open stable doors, and he couldn't help feeling that despite appearances, the building wasn't empty. "What?"
Turning to face the boulevard, he squinted at the crowd still surrounding the arguing charioteers. " I think I remember now what it was that Venitia said."
A tall man moved out of the stable's shadows, and there was movement behind him.
Hercules nodded absently.
Rotus wore no mask this time, but he did wear studded leather armor, and was carrying a short sword as if he knew how to use it. For that matter, Hercules thought with a how the hell do I get into these things ?
sigh, so did the eight men who stepped into the light behind him.
Oblivious to the threat, Iolaus continued: "I think she said some of them weren't kidding this year."
"Iolaus, turn around," Hercules muttered fiercely
Iolaus complied. "Oh" was all he said. He rubbed a nervous palm over his chest. "This isn't going to be fun, Herc. Four-to-one is lousy odds."
Hercules would have agreed, and would not have objected if Iolaus had suggested they beat a sane if hasty retreat, had not someone inside the stable chosen that particular moment to toss Holix into the alley.
There was blood on the young man's tunic, and even at this distance, Hercules could see that his face was cut and bruised.
"Holix," he called, "are you all right?"
With an effort the young man lifted his head and squinted through puffy eyes. "Hercules?"
"Yes."
"So do I look all right?"
Hercules knew it had been a stupid question, but he wanted to make sure the kid was still alive.
Iolaus began to back away then, even as his hand covered the hilt of his sword. "I know what you're thinking, Herc, and it's a bad idea. I think we ought to find someplace safe, think this over, come up with a plan and— whoop!" he suddenly cried when Hercules reached back without turning, snared his shoulder, and yanked him back to his side.
"I'm not going to leave him."
Iolaus blew out a breath. "I didn't think so. Okay, so what do we do? The straightforward charge, the divide-and-conquer, the leap-over-their-heads-and-come-down-on-the-other-side, or what?"
At that moment Rotus nodded sharply.
The rebels charged.
"Whatever," Hercules said, and braced himself.
As he watched the upraised swords he knew that Iolaus had been right.
This wasn't going to be any fun at all.
Unlike the last time, Rotus' men were obviously out for blood, yet Hercules and Iolaus at least had the advantage of the alley's narrow width. By standing only a yard apart, they were able to prevent the others from sneaking around behind them.
Unfortunately it didn't prevent the swords the others wielded from taking vicious swipes at various exposed limbs, heads, and far too many vital organs for Hercules' peace of mind.
What did help was his reputation.
In spite of Rotus' exhortations—as usual, shouted from the safety of the rear of the fray—the rebels were tentative in their attack after their initial run brought them face-to-face with their intended victims.
This allowed Hercules to sidestep a clumsy thrust, trap the man's arm against his side with his own arm, and bring a heavy fist down on his skull. Before the man could fall, Hercules picked him up by arm and waist and tossed him into the others, spilling at least half of them to the ground.
At the same time Iolaus faced a wildly determined man who used his weapon like a bat, swinging it two-handed and so rapidly that Iolaus was barely able to parry each blow. Forced to give reluctant ground, he ducked one swing, sucked in his stomach to avoid another, and very nearly lost his own weapon when a third slash stung his arms to the shoulders and made him gasp.
Luckily the collision rattled the attacker as well, and in the slight hesitation that ensued, Iolaus spun in a complete circle for added power and brought the flat of his blade solidly against the man's side, propelling him off balance to his left.
The wall took care of the rest when skull met stone.
"There's only two of them, you fools!" Rotus yelled.
"Don't see you getting all sweaty," one of his men snapped just before Hercules grabbed him by the throat, lifted him off his feet, and shook him so hard his helmet fell off, his sword dropped to the alley floor, and his eyes crossed.
Iolaus laughed, grabbed the sword of the rebel now slumped against the base of the wall, and turned just as two others rushed him. Although he would have rather had a lighter weapon in his left hand, he managed to keep both of them at bay long enough f
or him to figure out that as long as he didn't slip or slide, he might last long enough for Hercules to lend a hand.
But when the man on his right lunged at the same time as his companion swung, Iolaus couldn't move his own swords fast enough. One enemy blade was blocked, but the other caught him square on the hip.
He yelped, went down on one knee, and got both hands up just in time to form a shaky X, in whose crotch the other blades slammed home.
It was a test of strength: could they force him onto his back before he was able to regain his feet?
Sweat broke along his brow and slid into his eyes, stinging and blurring his vision.
"Going to die, friend," one of them grunted.
"Herc!" Iolaus called.
The other rebel laughed, and pushed harder.
Hercules had to make a choice—there was a trio of rebels trying to slip around his flank, whom he could thwart by tossing the man currently in his hands at them, or he could toss the man in hand at the men who had Iolaus in hand.
No real choice at all.
"Fly," he whispered.
A second later Iolaus spotted something flying in the air between the heads of the two straining rebels, and braced his feet when he recognized the terrified expression of a third, who seemed awfully red in the face as he hurtled through space. When the collision occurred, Iolaus shoved himself backward and would have escaped completely had not the flying man slightly overshot his companions.
Helmet met jaw, and the last thing Iolaus saw was either his soul on its way to Hades or a hell of a gorgeous cloud floating over Themon.
Hercules, on the other hand, saw nothing but a tangle of thrashing limbs and swords.
He did, however, feel the weight of three men landing on his back, bending him double as they flailed wildly whatever they could flail, except their swords, which they dropped immediately once they realized that by flailing them they were likely to puncture each other-Hercules managed to drag one of them around to the ground, then propel himself up and back as fast as he could. When the ungainly pile hit the wall, Hercules staggered forward, using his right hand to stop himself from falling.
Timothy Boggs - Hercules Legendary Joureneys 02 Page 9
