by M. Parnell
xedi1@hotmail.com
Copyrights 1997 -2007 inclusive

By M. Parnell
Copyright 1997

Chapter Twenty Seven

It was as Hermia said: winter held one terrible storm in its quiver. After that, all would be gray, dark would fall early, and game would be scarce, but the remaining storms were a matter of nuisance, not disaster. Little had been heard from the Tribes, or Nerad. Drax had it on good authority that word of her trouncing of Petra's man had been delivered to Nerad's doorstep, by Petra's men, it was said, though Drax couldn't understand why it would be so. For Xena it was added proof that if any harm came to Xena, it would be by her hand alone.

Winter's diet was a monotonous round of root vegetables, dried fruits, bread, and cheese. The stream yielded little gifts of trout and panfish, and an occasional rabbit found it's way into the stewpot, liberally attended by the seemingly endless store of mushrooms Xena had gathered.

"I told you people would be happy to barter for knowledge, Xena," Gabrielle told her one morning. Cramma had just left, Nara in tow, having left behind a massive jar of honey, and candles crafted from tallow and beeswax. Cramma had some reading and writing skill, but she was concerned that Nara be taught. "All the honey you can use, and occasional pork, if you teach her," she'd offered. The list of students was long, and Gabrielle spent hours in the long evenings devising the best methods of instruction, beginning with the rudiments of written communication: the letters of the Greek tongue.

"People learn the lyrics to songs easier than they do the words to a poem; if they chant the letters, over and over, to some melody, they'll have them in no time." Xena had looked at the open face, illumined by firelight and nodded agreeably. It seemed like a good idea. She hoped the bard wouldn't be disappointed if the potential students found better things to do with their time when spring came around, having received earrings as payment for their bounty over the winter. Some few would come; Nara would be there, she had no doubt. On each visit Gabrielle's delight in the little girl grew.

"I'm earning enough honey to satisfy even your appetite," she continued, giving the warrior an affectionate hug around the middle. Xena lifted her off her feet, brought her closer for a kiss, and stood holding her, eyes closed for a long moment.

Gabrielle relaxed against her, grinning. Xena seemed to have a need to demonstrate just how well she had healed; it involved lifting the bard several times a day. "What are you doing today?" she asked through the grin.

"What do I do every day," Xena replied, and ticked off a list by rote: "Check the snares, check the fish traps, take care of the wood pile, tend the horses, haul water, try to find fresh game; the usual," she ended with a weary shrug. "Maybe I'll be really crazy today and do them in reverse order, just to make a change. Or maybe I'll break through the ice and fist a few fish, that could be fun. Or maybe we'll saddle Glider and you'll come hunting with me?" she asked hopefully.

"Xena, I'm sorry. Not today. I'll ride Glider, but I was hoping you'd ride with me as far as Hermia's. I told her I'd come by for a visit, and today seems as good a day as any."

Xena nodded, deposited the bard lightly on the floor and turned away. As good a day as any. Made better by the fact that Cramma and Nara would be there for a visit as well. No surprises there. "Fine. I'll saddle up."

Hermia's homestead had become a focal point of The Sweetwater, much as the baker in any community was a focal point. Everyone wanted the bread that was hers to barter, now that she was free of paying tribute to Nerad's men. Those who made their own bread baked it in her oven; it was a time honored custom wherever there was a decent oven to be found, and so the path to her door was well-beaten. Drax and Ileander had found a home there, living in a constantly improved section of her barn, dry and comfortable throughout the winter. They had begun to plan the home they would construct when the weather had cleared. Best of all, Ileander had a loom once again. It was set in a small alcove created for that purpose, where a decrepit wall of Hermia's home had been torn down. From his seat by the loom, he was company for Hermia and her stream of customers, and the cloth he produced found a ready market.

It had become Gabrielle's custom to visit as often as weather and time permitted, once Xena had healed from her injuries. "I think I'll conduct my classes there," she told Xena after one long afternoon visit. "Hermia would like that, and everyone stops by here anyway."

"Next you'll be keeping a spare bedroll there," Xena had replied, smiling to keep an irritated scowl from her face.

She didn't dismount when they reached Hermia's, merely calling greetings from Argo before heading for a likely hunting area. Drax had already set off for the day, and she was glad; she didn't want his company today, if she couldn't have Gabrielle with her, she'd sooner be alone. If she could come home with something, and maybe something extra for Hermia, she'd feel better, she knew, mentally shaking the vague malaise that touched her. If I opened my mouth right now, a whine would come out, she knew. So, Xena, it's time to make something good happen. She touched her heels to Argo's flanks, leaving the curling smoke from Hermia's chimney far behind.

The game seemed to find her this day. Three fat rabbits hung from her saddle before the hour had passed, and another seemed destined to spend the night roasting on a spit, zigzagging before her in a futile attempt to escape, when she found better prey: before her, outlined against the sky on a nearby ridge, was a magnificent buck, with full rack.

"Argo, that would make a lot of folks happy," she said quietly, as she drew an arrow from the quiver. She could let it fly at full gallop with no loss of accuracy. Gods, this would be fun; her mood brightened as she turned that way. The buck seemed to turn at the same moment, and the chase was on. He could not outrun Argo, but had a sizeable head start; slowly the gap was closed, but then he was in a thicket of woods, and had the advantage. Xena grinned despite herself. The entertainment would last that much longer.

The buck seemed always to be just ahead of them, within reach of an arrow, then he'd plunge through some thick underbrush, or disappear in a stand of trees, and be gone for a moment. Argo balked once, at the path he followed, but Xena urged her on, with a harsh note in her voice, and a slap on her rump. So they continued, until the cold winter sun was half hidden by the trees. Odd, in winter, for so much foliage to remain. Xena stopped for a moment, wondering where the buck had gone to, and puzzling at the green that surrounded her in the late winter. Only one place this could be, she realized, and a flood of warmth touched her. "Let's move, Argo," she instructed, the buck forgotten. The mare needed no direction, following a familiar path, drinking from a welcome stream, hooves cushioned by moss so thick it could have couched the gods, until at last Xena slid from her back, dropped the reins, and settled in a hummock of sweet grass. She lay for a long time, face pillowed on her forearms, happy to have the fragrance of summer in her nose again, glad to feel the soft tickles against her cheek, little concerned how it was always summer here. At last she was thirsty; she thought she'd slept, felt as if something had awakened her, but couldn't be certain. She leaned into the stream, and sipped a handful of the pristine water. In the shimmering waves she created she saw her own face, moving fragments, growing still as the water resumed its glass-like surface. It was then that she saw him, and turned, not startled, not alarmed. "Ares," she said evenly. "It's been a while."

"Not for me, Xena. I've never been far from your side."

"I'll just bet you haven't." She started to sneer, but it was hard to maintain, and relaxed into a small smile. Now she was startled, as she realized she was glad to see him. A little bit, anyway.

"Xena, what kind of patron god would I be if I lost interest in my favorite warrior just because she got into a mess. And didn't bother to get herself out?" he added reproachfully.

Patron god; that touched a nerve. "Don't know how I'd get by without your interest," she said in a strangely flat voice.

"I flatter myself that that's true," he nodded. "I'm always there for you Xena, if you let me be there." He took hold of the convict earring that dangled from her. The mild tug she felt caused her cheeks to flame with humiliation. She wrenched away, and got to her feet, wondering at the absence of anger in her, and wondering something else.

"Thanks, Ares; I've been getting by."

"Barely," he agreed. "A warrior of your caliber, a woman of your quality living in a wattle house, eating the roots that are better left to the pigs?" He shook his head. "I don't get it."

"You don't have to get it. This is my life we're talking about."

"I know, I know, I know: yours to waste, yours to squander? Except for one thing: I'm part of your life, by my choice, and your invitation."

The shiver she'd been expecting ran up her spine at that moment; she caught her breath, and showed her teeth in a forced smile. "Well, now I'm inviting you out."

A slow smile spread over the face of the God of War.

"Not so fast, Xena. There's but one problem here. We have a deal, an offer was made, consideration given?that constitutes a contract by any reasonable standard. Now it's time to fulfill your part of the bargain."

"We have no bargain, Ares," she said steadily.

"Xena, now you're disappointing me. This constitutes welshing of the very worst kind. In a moment of mortal danger I came to your aid, strengthened you in battle, helped you achieve your objective, as you asked, and you deny your obligation." His brow furrowed as he recalled the moment. "You said, 'Ares, if you still want me, I'm yours.' Do I have that right? Of course you were such a mess, I had to listen very carefully." His voice dropped to a husky whisper. "I was never more proud of you, Xena. Beaten, alone; you were still the warrior. THE warrior. MY warrior. At that moment, you knew who was the source of your strength, the one to whom you could always turn - "

"Shut up," she snapped.

Ares recoiled, as if hurt. "Don't like recalling that tender moment when you prayed for help.?"

"Tender? I was half dead," she countered. "I thought Gabrielle was dead. If I said anything that sounded remotely like a cry for help, it was only because I didn't think I'd live long enough to see you again. It certainly wasn't a prayer," she ended.

"Prayers and offerings to me is a practice you've gotten away from," he admitted, but when you really needed help, the words came back to you Xena. It was beautiful. And your prayer was answered. I came through for you."

"No ya didn't," she said with studied contempt. "It was Gabrielle, and the Amazons; they came through. You have no power in Prestia," she pointed out. "I knew that when I said the words. You did nothing for me, because there was nothing you could do." She watched carefully, from the corner of one eye, waiting for his response. The question had plagued her since that day: Had Ares heard her desperate words? Had her triumph in Prestia left her in his eternal debt?

"Xena, I know the words you spoke," he said patiently. "Shall I describe the scene? Every wound? How you cut off the toe of your boot because the nails had been ripped off your toes? How Salmoneus and Laepita cleaned your wounds and patched you together for that final battle?" It might have been Gabrielle reciting a well-known tale, so complete was his telling. Xena watched, rapt, to see the eyes of the god glisten as he detailed the battle. For a moment, Xena's head swam with remembered sensation: heat and dust, and the belief that Gabrielle had already died a cruel death. If Ares had not been present, he'd heard a good account. "Krykon dead, with Radec dead, both by your hand. Wasn't that what you wanted?"

"Yeah, it's what I wanted," she said quickly. "And I made it happen. It was nothing to do with you," she insisted, hiding her own uncertainty. "If you'd been involved, you wouldn't have waited so long to collect. It's been months, Ares. Where've you been?"

"Despite the prominent place you hold in my heart - " he paused as she emitted a harsh laugh, then went on: " - you are not the only iron I have in the fire. The world's been a busy place while you've been holed up here. Wars, rebellions; they all need my attention. I have you now Xena; you could wait a bit. But, lest you think I was ignoring you," he crinkled his nose, happy to reveal a secret, but Xena was quicker:

"The earthquake; that was your doing."

His face fell, just for a moment. "Of course you knew; we know each other so well."

"Sure," she lied. She had suspected; had never been certain. "It showed a wanton disregard for human life. Who else could it be? Am I worth so much trouble Ares?" she asked wearily.

He ignored the question. "I was rather proud of the whole incident; from the first jolt on, things fell into place."

"How did you arrange it?" She was really curious. "Threat? Collecting a favor? Cajolery?"

"Does it matter?" he lifted an eyebrow. "I get the help I need. Actually," he went on in a confiding tone, "I don't think I could have pulled it off without Gabrielle. Much as I hate to admit it, sometimes the brat comes in handy."

"Gabrielle?" she echoed.

"Would you have gone to Priblis if she wasn't there appealing to your better nature, pleading on behalf of the wretches buried alive? She's good," he said with grudging admiration.

"You went to a lot of trouble for nothing," she said, shoving his words about Gabrielle to the edge of consciousness. She'd think about that later.

His dark eyes regarded her with frank amusement. "You're here, aren't you?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm in Tartarus. Little good does it do you."

He nodded. "I admit, I thought you'd be overlord by now, maybe even the overlord of overlords, with the whole of Tartarus under your command. But," he gave a slight shake of the head, "I wasn't speaking of Tartarus. I mean you're here, in this glade." He turned in a slow circle, his big hands moving to encompass the whole area. "This place Xena, this place of light, warmth and peace that I created for my chosen warrior."

She frowned, eyes narrowed as she followed him. "Xena." He sighed deeply. "Don't disappoint me again. A smart girl like you? You had to know this place was not warmed by - what was it? Hot springs?" Xena hadn't moved, except to turn her eyes from him. Had she known? Her mind scrambled to find the answer. For all that it had seemed so unworldly, it was so benign; why would she had guessed it was a creation of Ares? His very presence could make her flesh creep; this oasis in the midst of Tartarus soothed her like a potent drug. What had he called it? A place of light, warmth and peace. Yet she recalled that Gabrielle had never found it so.

He chuckled. "Didn't you wonder why your little partner didn't appreciate its charms?" She started, wondering if he could read her thoughts. "I didn't tailor this place to suit her," he explained. "This is for you, crafted to meet your needs the way you fashioned that doeskin for her. A disgusting little scene, by the way," he digressed, "but never mind. I know you every bit as well. Better." He placed his hands on unresisting shoulders. "We both know that what you need for peace, and what Gabrielle needs, are two very different things. What ever you like to dream, you'll never find peace together; not for long."

She wrenched free from his caressing fingers. "You'd like to think so."

"Xena," he countered, " I hate to state the obvious, but well, you are here. With me." He peered around the clearing. "I don't see Gabrielle anywhere. In fact, you come here a lot, while your little friend visits the neighbors. Not that I don't appreciate the problem: it gets kind of boring listening to the latest wisdom about achieving a really crusty loaf of bread. But, then, it gets kind of boring hunting every day, to put food on the table. Rabbits don't exactly fall in to the category of exciting prey."

"Your point being?" she snapped.

"Why does everything have to have a point? We're having a nice visit, I'm commiserating. But you really don't deserve my sympathy, Xena. It doesn't have to be this way. Tartarus holds challenges enough even for you. And the rewards?If one warlord, you, controlled this land, and the people in it, the Three Kingdoms would tremble in fear. The crowns would be yours for the taking."

"Ares, I just relinquished a crown, walked away from a kingdom. Of all your schemes, this is the lamest, no-starter yet."

"I'll ignore that remark," he said with some dignity, "and point out that you were free to hand over the power and walk away from Prestia. Here, you can't walk away. Unless maybe you hold the power." She made no reply. "I have the uncomfortable feeling that this place is making you slow. Don't tell me that hadn't occurred to you."

"Ares, you've put me in a box. I've had a good look around," she said with an emphatic nod. "I know all the angles, all the escape possibilities. Including that one. Considering all the alternatives, I think it's best for everyone if I stay in the box. Especially now that I see your hand in this."

"What is that? Spite? You don't really think you'll be content here? Doing the domestic thing? It'll never work."

"You sound more desperate every time you say that, Ares. Afraid you might be wrong? You should be."

"Then you won't mind my dropping by to observe your happiness."

"Since when have you cared what I mind?"

"Xena, I've been holding out an olive branch. You have to choose to take it."

"No thanks. I'd rather stick with the Ares I know."

"But I insist." In his hand there was suddenly a sprig of green. Then he was gone.

He might never have been there, but for the still sprouting olive branch Xena held. She eyed it thoughtfully, before hurling it across the field with an oath.

She didn't stay long in the glade, and didn't quite remember leaving. Never bothered you before, she scolded herself, as Argo picked her way along a seldom used path. It made you feel better, why ask questions? She wondered how many times Ares had strode the glade with her, wondered more how the God of War could create a place of such peace. It was a conundrum, not easily solved. But it could be avoided. "Never again, Argo," she said aloud. The horse pricked her ears, and whinnied in response. "You liked it too." That was a puzzle. Argo had healthy instincts. Still, she was a warhorse. "Maybe it is a warrior thing," she mused, again aloud. "I guess we should have gone with Gabrielle's instincts on this one." The thought of the bard sent a warm feeling through Xena; she was seized by a sudden urgency to be with her. The game she had would have to be enough for today. They turned toward Hermia's.

She might have walked into a scene from another day. If I entered the room blindfolded I could tell where everyone was, she realized. Hermia was by the hearth, baking peel in hand, ready to move her loaves as needed. Ileander was seated at his loom in the small alcove. Lilla and Nara were at Gabrielle's side, in the corner, absorbed in a story. Arthea sat at the table, paring knife in hand, ready to attack a turnip. All eyes turned to her, startled as she stepped into the room.

"Xena! Did you have to make such an entrance?" She wondered what Hermia meant, then caught up with the sound of the door clattering against the frame.

"Sorry," she said, even as her eyes came to rest on the bard. She was doeskin-clad; her eyes were alive with amusement. Her cheeks would be soft to the touch, Xena knew, as she stood by the door, longing to touch them.

"You weren't gone long," Gabrielle observed, watching Xena carefully.

Xena held up her prizes. "Thought these would do; I missed you." Hermia smiled. Arthea turned back to the turnip, lips twisted in a scowl.

"Has something happened?" the bard wanted to know.

"Nothing has happened," Xena replied, shrugging to mask a rising exasperation. "I missed you, so I came back." Ileander began to whistle, a nondescript little melody which seemed to remove the focus from Xena. "Are you ready to go?"

"Go? Xena, I just got here. And you really just got here. Hermia asked us to stay for supper."

"Gabrielle, there's a lot I can do at home."

"You were going to spend the day hunting, Xena. Nothing would have gotten done then. Relax and visit for a while. Are you sure you're all right."

"Yeah, I'm fine." She ran a hand through her hair, slapped the three hares on the table. "Do you want these for tonight?" she asked Hermia.

"Yes, please, Xena. They're lovely. It's made a world of difference to Lilla, having a steady diet. Just look at the roses in her cheeks."

"Good," she nodded, with a scant glance at the child. "I'll dress them." That meant time outside, where maybe she could breathe. "I'll only be a minute."

She saw the door open, wished hard that it would be Gabrielle, then knew it was Arthea. The woman found a few innocent things to do on her meandering way across the yard, to where Xena gutted the rabbits beside a bucket of water. "It's cold, Xena."

"Yeah," the warrior agreed. "Is that what you came to tell me?"

"Don't be like that, Xena. I'm just being friendly. If you asked me to go home, I wouldn't put it off to have supper with the neighbors." She smiled as she said this, and shivered inside her worn shawl.

I'll bet you wouldn't, Xena thought. It was hard not to smile back. "Gabrielle's kind of more social than I am."

"Social's fine, but first things first."

"Won't Hermia be looking for you?"

Xena eyed the woman coolly. "I thought you arranged to take lessons from Gabrielle?"

"I did," she said indifferently, "but I don't expect I'll be waiting for people to cheer when I get things right," she exclaimed. "It's more just for something to do; I go almost crazy in this place."

Xena ripped the belly of a rabbit. "Not enough work around here?"

"Work," she smirked. "Xena, I’m not afraid of work, I just need something else in my life. Even Lutus was better than nothing. Except that he belted me around."

"Spring's coming. Maybe you'll get around and find someone else." Xena glanced up from the rabbit as she spoke, wondering if the words sounded as hollow to Arthea as they felt coming out. Arthea's face hid little, not her skepticism, nor her longing for this moment with Xena to never end. An odd gleam in her eye made Xena wonder if she was tipsy.

"Arthea," she said, "you'd better go back."

"Don't want me to wait for you? Is Gabrielle the jealous type?" She didn't turn from Xena's glare. "She shouldn't make you wait for her Xena; it isn't right."

"She's entitled to visit with her friends. Our friends," she amended quickly. She thrust the two rabbits at Arthea. "Take these to Hermia. I'll clean this mess up and be right along." She scraped scraps of fur and flesh together, and rinsed the knife in the bucket. Arthea clutched the rabbits, and stood waiting, considering a reply. "Now," Xena barked.

"All right, Xena. I don't want to cause you any trouble." She turned, took a step, and whirled back, to place a kiss on Xena's cheek.

Xena had stayed outside until just before supper. There was always something that needed to be done, for all that Drax had already taken care of many repairs. Hermia would have a nice farm, at last; with any luck the extra manpower would provide a decent harvest. Still, Xena was busy much of the afternoon, clearing winter's debris from the stream bed. It was hard work, requiring no thought, and her mind turned to other things. Ares had left her shaken, made her question everything she'd done for months. How much, if any, had been influenced by the God of War? She was tied to him by virtue of her descent from Pres Prima. She had - maybe- sealed a deal with her words in Prestia. Or maybe not. It wouldn't be past Ares to lie. She wondered if the tree had fallen on her with his help. She found herself standing, axe in hand, staring blankly at a whirling landscape. She rubbed a hand across clammy cheeks, and remembered that it was cold, and damp. There was one question she could answer: whether Gabrielle should know. Even that was not easy. What purpose would it serve, upsetting her? On the other hand, she'd be pissed to know Xena had kept it from her. She hefted the axe, struck it hard against a length of wood. This place, and everything in it seemed to lurch endlessly from bad to worse. She stood by the fire for a long time when she went in to supper, picking a splinter from her palm, watching the hubbub which swirled around her, as bowls were passed to the table, and the ubiquitous rabbit stew was set out.

"Gods, what I'd give for a roast lamb right now." Her voice was startlingly loud in the small space. Drax, just returned from a fruitless day's hunting, swore.

"We'd all like lamb, Xena. Any idea where we're to find it? Or was that an idle wish?"

"Even goat would make a nice change. Maybe our local goatherds would part with one for a price." She wondered how many earrings Hermia had left.

"Not this time of year," Hermia told her. "Maybe in the spring."

Gabrielle took Xena's hand and pulled her to a seat by the table. "Are you all right, Xena?" she asked softly.

"Yes," Xena hissed. "We just all need a change around here."

"I'm for that, Xena," Arthea said eagerly. She was pouring a strong ale from a jug. She passed a cup to Xena. "Make a toast to something new," she grinned.

Xena returned the grin as she took the cup, and turned to Gabrielle, who watched bemused. "A toast;" she stood, wiped a finger across her upper lip, and smiled broadly around the table. "Raise your cups to the woman who has agreed to stand before the world, or The Sweetwater anyway, and declare with me our intention to spend our lives together. We hope you'll all be our witnesses."

"Lovely!" It was Hermia, who followed her words with a healthy swallow of ale. Arthea drained her cup and poured another. Drax placed a hand on Ileander's thigh. Cramma sputtered out her congratulations around a chewy crust of bread. The only surprise evident was on Gabrielle's face.

"Haven't changed your mind?" Xena joked.

"Not on your life," was the hearty reply, to a new round of toasts and best wishes. Xena sat again, and pulled Gabrielle close for a kiss. "Did I tell you how much I missed you today?" she said, for Gabrielle's ears only. The green eyes narrowed in concentration. Something had happened today.

"Hasn't Argo done enough for one day?" Gabrielle asked. Xena had insisted that she share Argo's saddle for the ride home. Glider trotted along behind, at the end of a tether.

"Argo misses you in the saddle," Xena replied. "Not as much as I do."

Gabrielle grinned, and happily snuggled against the warrior, slipping her arms under the cloak Xena wore. The three quarter moon hung low in the sky; occasionally a tree stood out in sharp silhouette as they passed. "Are you going to tell me what happened?" Gabrielle's voice was soft, inviting a confidence.

"Why do you insist something has happened?" Xena countered.

"Because you haven't been yourself since you came back from hunting. I'm almost ready to believe that one of your doubles has found her way to Tartarus."

Xena chuckled. "If that's the case, I'd have to be Meg. Want to check my bodice for 'souvenirs'?"

"Funny. That means you don't want to talk about it?"

"Or maybe it means there isn't anything to talk about."

"If you say so," Gabrielle surrendered, unconvinced. "So explain instead why you made that little announcement at supper. I thought we had agreed to wait." She felt the shrug of Xena's broad shoulders.

"We had; I'm sorry. It just seemed like a good time."

"Just to make a change?"

"Something like that. Funny thing is, I felt better just saying it."

"I'm glad. You could have knocked me over with a sneeze."

"Are you angry?"

A pause. "No. Actually, it was kind of fun. Like a surprise party."

"Then no harm done. Good."

"But Xena, no more surprises for a while? Please."

Yeah. No surprises." Gabrielle heard a desolate quality in her voice; it scared her a little. Xena seemed so unhappy at times, unreachable. It was like that now, despite the physical proximity, the warrior's thoughts were miles away. She shifted in the saddle, buried her face in the thick hair which hung down over the cloak. "Are you tired?"

Xena hesitated. "A little," she said honestly. "Why?"

"I was hoping you'd want to make love with me tonight."

A slow smile spread across Xena's face, though Gabrielle couldn't see it.

"I think I can find the energy," she said solemnly.

"Good. It's been too long." And it feels funny as Hades to be planning it like this, she thought. There had been spontaneity to their lovemaking from the beginning; a spark of passion would ignite of its own accord, frequently. Maybe passion like that can't last, the bard mused. That's why all the great lovers are legendary, often dead, she thought. Passion so great burns out. She clutched the warrior a little tighter, hating it to be so. Maybe it's this place. There wasn't much romantic about the endless chores and monotony of life in Tartarus. And there was always something to fight about. Many evenings were wrecked by petty bickering. Love should overcome all that. Life's not a story in your scrolls, Gabrielle, she reminded herself.

"Xena?"

"Yeah?"

"Why is everything harder here?"

The image of the cold, yet sensuous god had never been far from her thoughts. He was fixed there now, as she answered: "I don't know. I guess we just have to try harder."

Chapter 28

There was more art than strength employed in shooting an arrow, Gabrielle had come to realize. Somehow, that made the lessons easier to take. She could put an arrow within three feet of her target, most times, and hardly ever lost one; but it had taken a long time. They'd begun practice at sunrise; the sun was nearly at its zenith, and they had yet to break for a meal. "That's a very long time to wait for breakfast,? she grumbled.

"Not really," Xena disagreed as they trudged back to the house. "I’m puzzled, Gabrielle. Most of the winter you spent insisting that one, you'd never learn, and two, you didn't want to learn. What made you change your mind??

"Your gentle encouragement, Xena," she smirked.

"Yeah, right. It couldn't be because the stranger from the far side of the seas was a master with a bow?"

Gabrielle ducked her head, trying to hide her sheepish grin. "It does seem a bit more exotic now," she admitted.

"Once you put your mind to it, it was like rolling off a log."

"Hmmpf. Easy for you to say. Look at this hand!" She showed Xena her new blisters, that would soon be calluses.

"On top of the ones from your staff, they won't look so bad, Gabrielle. If you use your body, its bound to show some wear. But now you can feed yourself."

"Yeah, provided my prey is larger than three feet in diameter, and stationary for long periods of time. Anyway, this winter I didn't do badly, bartering my services for food," she observed smugly.

"No, you didn't," Xena agreed, glad for the earrings which had been available to really pay for food.

"With spring just around the corner, I'll be paying off the debt. That will be exciting. When I was a kid I found school so confining, I never dreamed I'd be a teacher, but I guess that's what I'll be."

"Gabrielle," Xena began slowly, I hope you aren't disappointed if people are too busy to spend time learning to read and write."

"Xena, as you've pointed out, goods are scarce here; people won't just walk away from something they've bartered for."

"I guess not," Xena conceded, "but they have a lot of other things to do this time of year."

"I know Arthea will be here, anyway," Gabrielle said. "Yesterday she was pretty eager about making plans to come over. Said she'd try to come by today. You know, I never know how to feel about her. Sometimes, when she looks at you, I want to scratch her eyes out; then I see how she plays with Lilla, or Nara, and she's so much like a kid, I can't stay angry about anything."

"Like a kid," Xena said doubtfully. "I haven't seen that side of her."

Xena expelled a breath of air. "Yeah, it’s real quiet, Gabrielle. I'm sorry, but in the long run, it's better this way. We don't need any passengers." Gabrielle's head shot around.

"Passengers? Where are we going? An escape?" she asked hesitantly.

"Maybe. I've been thinking about how. Maybe it's not so impossible. Having a kid along wouldn't make it easier."

"Is that what was on your mind yesterday? Why you were so strange?"

"Gabrielle, there was nothing going on yesterday. Nothing! Will you drop it?" she flared.

The look on the bard's face reminded her how frightening she could be. "I have some ideas," she said in a softer tone. "Nothing concrete, but if the peddlers come back, maybe I can get Argo out that way. Someone would be willing to cooperate, for a price. If the peddlers come back." She'd spent the night considering plans. None were perfect, all had a high element of risk, but sitting still, staying in the box, might be the most dangerous thing of all, despite what she'd told Ares. If he wanted her here, it was probably best that she leave.

"You'd trust Argo to a peddler?"

"She's too valuable to hurt," she reasoned. "When we get out, I go get her."

"Why the urgency, Xena?"

"Urgency?" She pushed Ares from her mind. "Gabrielle, I've never stopped thinking about it. That's why Nara was never a good idea."

"Why didn't you just say so?"

"Because I can't promise when we'll get out. Sometimes it seems like an impossible dream, I can't ask you to build your life around that."

"It would be better than an unreasoned 'no'. I think I deserved a real answer."

"Well now you have it." A shadow touched the bard's eyes. "Now what's wrong?" Xena asked, biting back her impatience.

"It seems funny to think of leaving here. We've made so many friends."

"Gabrielle, you make friends wherever you go. There are a lot waiting for you outside: your family, the Amazons?"

"I know. I'll still miss Hermia, Nara, Lilla. I wonder if they'll ever learn to read."

"Gabrielle, we're far from gone. Don't start missing them yet," she warned. "It might never happen."

"Oh, it will happen. When you set your mind to something Xena, it's like rolling off a log," she echoed. "I just wonder what took you so long?" That stopped Xena in her tracks. Gabrielle looked back, saw her question mirrored in the blue eyes, and walked on.

Arthea's arrival early the next morning was the signal for Xena to depart. She was a little surprised that Arthea would come so soon after the announcement. Then again, nothing about Arthea was really surprising. Her needs were, few, her motives easy to figure. Whatever her motives, she couldn't prevent Xena leaving as soon as she arrived.

"You haven't eaten, Xena." Gabrielle had prepared soup, a thick mushroom soup, a favorite of the warrior's.

Xena grabbed a chunk of bread. "This'll do. If I don't see you when I return, Arthea, take care." And I'll be very happy, she added as she closed the door behind her. She had no direction in mind, just out. Anyplace would do, except the glade. With great deliberation she headed toward the known, visited Cramma, as a checkpoint, and dropped in on Ikar and Natrakia. "We'll be seeing you soon, when we come to collect our lessons with Gabrielle," they called after her. She smiled, pleased that the bard would have some students. She thought of visiting Archon and Sepra, but saw what looked liked Hekatore, with his team of horses across a field in that direction. She was in no mood to speak to the man, and gave him a wide berth.

When she returned, Arthea, was as expected, long gone. "I waited to eat with you," Gabrielle told her. That was nice. Xena was hungry, but as she washed up, Gabrielle spied new company from the window. "Archon never stays long when he's alone, and I don’t see Sepra with him," she said.

"A gift." Archon stepped forward, and lifted the second of a pair of goats from the ox cart to the ground. Xena and Gabrielle exchanged puzzled glances.

"Why?" Xena asked.

"Friendship," he boomed. "Neighborliness." He shrugged. "Maybe because you'll be bringing my babe into the world in a few weeks, and I can't think of better payment."

"I don't need payment for that," she replied.

"But you always want us to take something, no favors allowed. Turnabout is fair play. This little pair of goats should be the seed for a nice herd of your own. Next best thing to sheep," he winked, acknowledging her preference.

Gabrielle already had her arms around one, stroking its ears with affection. "Archon, this is very generous. Thank you both. Where's Sepra? I made mushroom soup."

"Her feet were a little puffy, back aching. Being with child isn't a lot of fun, I guess. I'll be happy to carry some soup back to her. She does like her mushrooms."

"I'll be right back." When she had gone inside, Archon spoke to Xena: "It's lucky for all of us, you having Petra as a protector. We haven't seen a sign of the tribes since her visit here. She seems to pay special attention to The Sweetwater. That alone makes it worthwhile thanking you."

For Petra's protection. Xena swallowed the bitter bile that rose in her throat.

"What did you ever do to earn her protection?"

"I'd love to know," she said earnestly, "but I think you're overstating things. She isn't my protector."

"Whatever. In the absence of a real overlord, she'll do."

Xena was grateful to see Gabrielle return with the soup, the entire pot. "You'd better get this back to Sepra. She's eating for two," Xena said curtly. Gabrielle wondered at the tension between them.

"I'm sorry if I offended you, Xena," Archon said, but the warrior was already leading the goats to the shed, wondering where was best to pasture them.

"Maybe I'll drop by to see Sepra tomorrow," Xena replied over her shoulder.

Gabrielle saw Archon off and caught up with her in the yellowed field behind the house. She couldn't guess what had passed between them, and didn't want to know, just then. "Xena, I hope you don't mind a cold supper. I gave all the soup to Archon. Sepra -"

"Craves mushrooms; I know." She shrugged. "It doesn't matter."

"Is this a bad mood that will last the rest of the day, or should I stick around, hoping for a break in the clouds?"

With an effort, Xena arranged a smile on her face. "How was Arthea?" she asked, for something to say.

"Restless; couldn't sit still. We were going to eat some soup, but I no sooner dished it out than she changed her mind and left. I dumped it back in the pot to wait for you. Guess I wasn't meant to eat mushroom soup today."

"If there was an inn nearby we could go out for supper. I'd like that," Xena said with a nod.

"That's what this place needs," Gabrielle said with sudden animation. "An inn. You know all about that Xena, maybe we could -"

"What? Open our home to travelers?" Xena asked aghast. "You're right. I do know about inns. I grew up in one. I won't spend my life handing bowls of stew to a bunch of convicts and drunks."

"Okay. You needn't take my head off."

"Sorry." She scratched her dark head. "I'm in a rotten mood," she acknowledged contritely.

"Belligerent. Not rotten, belligerent. You sound as if you need to stick a sword in someone."

"I don't need to stick a sword in anyone. Can't I just have a bad mood once in a while?"

"Sure. Just indulge your rotten mood someplace else. Go chop wood, or kill some furry creatures. Tartarus is a big place, Xena; there must be somewhere you can go until you're ready to be civil. What ever is eating you, don't take it out on me!" She turned away, vaguely hoping she could turn around and start the exchange from the beginning. Xena spoke first.

"Gabrielle, I just wanted to - " she stopped, looked around for a moment, and slapped a hand against her thigh, not knowing what she wanted. "I'll do as you say," she said at last.

Gabrielle turned quickly, but the warrior was already striding away through the field.

This time, no place was off limits. She didn't really know how to find the glade, but knew when she found its approach. The languorous movement was like foreplay, in the intensity of sensual feeling. Every fragrance was heightened, the warm air caressed her body, and her blood seemed to quicken. It had never been so inviting. She almost spurred Argo to hurry, but the pleasure of the moment was too great. She didn't have to wait for Ares to appear, he stood on a knoll, arms crossed against his broad chest, waiting. He knew I'd be here, Xena acknowledged, noting that the thought didn't trouble her.

"Xena. Rough day?" His voice was soft; she heard only the mocking undertone, and scowled.

"I came for a little peace, Ares. I don't need your company."

"No? Suppose I promise not to nag, pick, find fault? Can I stay?"

"Never mind. I don't know why I came," she said, yet she made no move to go.

"Don't let me keep you from the love of your life. You won't want to miss your evening spat."

"Eaaaah!" she screamed, as she spurred Argo forward, drawing her sword on the fly. Ares made no move as she bore down on him, but his lips turned up in a satisfied smile. She was driven by salt-fury as she drove toward him, and plunged the sword into his chest, to the hilt. He stepped out of the sword, and laughed. She looked at her naked blade, flung it aside, and leaped off Argo to land on the startled god. Her fingers found his throat as he landed on his back; one hand working free to land a hard punch on his jaw. He smarted at that, and swung at her. Her head snapped back at impact, and jerked forward again to land on the bridge of his nose. He grabbed her by the hair, arching her neck back in a brutal twist, and rose to his knees. She attempted to break free; the back of his free hand landed across her mouth, but she caught at it with her teeth, causing him to yelp in pain. Without loosing his hold on her hair, he rose to his feet dragging her after, and drove a knee into her midsection. The air huffed out of her; as she struggled to regain her breath he spoke into her ear: "I'll give you whatever you need, Xena. Peace, you got it; a good fight; you got it." A second time he smacked her hard across the face, sending her across the clearing, to land in a heap at the base of a tree. "Had enough?" he demanded. As he stood over her.

"Not yet," she rasped, and launched herself with impossible velocity at his throat once again. He stumbled backwards, a stream of obscenities gushing from his mouth. She gained a hold of his thick black locks this time; he grinned, and twined his fingers in her hers. He let her take him down, let her fingers stay on his throat, and wrapped one arm around her waist. Their faces were inches apart. For a moment all he could see was the blood which poured from her nose, and the puffy split lips, her mouth a little open to gulp in air. Then he closed on her, and his full mouth was over hers. She froze for a moment, in pain or in shock he didn't know. When she relaxed it was complete, her mouth was his, her hands no longer seeking to throttle, but to hold him close in a lover's embrace. Whatever she thought she wanted when she came to the glade was forgotten in his dark embrace. "Is this what you need, Xena? I'm more than happy to give it to you." For a long while nothing intruded on her consciousness. She was all sensation, all feeling, alive with his touch, moving in abandon against his body. He whispered something to her, she couldn't make it out, but fell asleep at last, with the soft echoes reverberating through her.

She awoke sometime later, in this timeless place, her naked body tickled by soft grass. Argo stood across the clearing; she imagined she saw reproach in her eyes, but turned her attention to herself. It was an effort to stir, so complete was her relaxation. She stretched like a cat, feeling each muscle and sinew as if for the first time. Reborn. That's what this is like. Not resurrection, I know that feeling. This is all new, like coming into possession of myself for the first time. She looked around, avoiding the big mare. Ares. Gone. If he'd ever been here. She moved the back of a hand across her mouth. No damage there. Something had happened. What? The fight? Or the love making? Both or neither? Nothing was clear, except that she felt wonderful. She cupped her breasts with both hands, delighting in her own touch. Argo whinnied, and something in that sound was full of home. Gabrielle. Through the afterglow, a nagging thought pushed at the edge of consciousness. She got to her knees, began to collect her things that were scattered around the area. Those small, practical movements made her feel her nakedness for the first time. She shook her head, and rose to her feet, refusing to let it happen. "Alalalalalalaaaaa?" roared from her throat, a ferocious cry of defiance, against what? She didn't know.

It was only later, on the cold road to home that fear struck. Ares had said she was his, that he had come to claim her. How could she refute his claim, and give herself to him; give herself to anyone when she belonged, body and soul to Gabrielle. A wave of self-loathing swept her. Gabrielle will know, she'll see it in me, smell him on me. Gods, I smell him on me. "I'll tell her Argo, everything. Maybe she can forgive me." She let Argo find the way, while she puzzled the mystery she had become to herself.

Time had played a new game on her, this time. Far from standing still, it seemed to have sped through the day, so that she emerged into a deep twilight. No candlelight came through the oiled parchment windows, and her heart skipped, wondering at Gabrielle's whereabouts. "Gabrielle!" she called, as Argo galloped to the door. There was no reply, but a scrap of parchment was on the table, with a hastily scrawled message: I've gone to Sepra. Meet me there.

That was all; it was enough to send Xena flying over the landscape, guessing that the baby must have come early, for Gabrielle to have gone there on such short notice. There were several horses in the yard when she arrived: Glider, Drax and Ileander's mounts, Hermia's cart, and Cramma's donkey. So many people for one birth? Her stomach churned in unaccustomed anxiety as she opened the door. It was not a birth, but a wake. Archon's washed body lay on a board at the far end of the room. Xena crossed to him, looking for the wound, or injury that had killed him. None was apparent. Sepra sat beside her husband, face buried in a towel, weeping softly.

"He dropped dead, Xena. He ate the soup, and dropped dead."

"The soup?" She was dumbfounded.

"There must have been a poisonous mushroom in the soup." Gabrielle looked quickly at the floor. "I sent him home with a bowl full of poison," she said.

"No, Gabrielle, you didn't," she said quickly. "If it was a poison mushroom, Sepra would have - "

"She didn't eat any. She wasn't feeling well. That saved her life."

"But you - "

"I never ate any."

"You always taste when you cook," Xena argued.

"I didn't today. I was too busy, in and out all day. I put everything in the pot and let it simmer. Then I sent it home with Archon. If Sepra hadn't felt ill, they'd all be dead," she said bleakly.

"No." Xena's head shook resolutely. "It wasn't the mushrooms. I know which ones are safe."

"Xena." Sepra spoke for the first time. "He was fine. Then he took a few mouthfuls of soup. Suddenly he stood up, clutched at his throat?" she mimicked his actions. "It was like he couldn't breathe. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he pitched forward. He was dead before I reached him." It was clearly a tale she'd told many times today. She regarded the room with red-rimmed eyes.

"It didn't have to be the soup," Xena insisted.

"Xena, I'm not angry. I don't blame anyone," Sepra told her mildly. "It was very kind of Gabrielle to send the soup. You've both been good friends."

"Archon was a good man," Gabrielle said. She placed a hand on Xena's arm to stop her speaking again. "His child will be proud of his father, we'll see to that."

Xena was back at Archon's side, peering deeply at his face, looking for any clue that might explain his sudden death.

"It's time," Drax said. We'll want the pyre lit before it gets too late."

Sepra took a shuddering breath, and nodded. Xena stepped aside to let the grieving widow have a final moment with her husband.

"Drax," she said quietly, "I'd like a few moments alone with the body. Maybe - "

"Xena, there's no point. It's best to get him out of the house so Sepra can get some rest."

"But - "

"No." This was Arthea's voice, at her elbow, firm in denial. "Drax is right." Xena stared, but Gabrielle added her voice. "Let it go, Xena." The warrior nodded, accepting defeat. Together the two men and four women carried the corpse a distance from the house, to a waiting pyre. Sepra followed, supported by Cramma's strong arm. No words were said, no songs sung. The sad little group waited for the fire to burn out, then scattered; only Cramma stayed to spend the night with Sepra.

Few words were exchanged on the way back to the wattle house. There was so much to be said, and so little sense of where to begin. It was not until the horses were stabled, the candles lit and the door barred for the night that Gabrielle asked the question that had nagged at her for so long. "Where were you Xena?"

The warrior merely shrugged at the question. "I was out riding. No place in particular."

"It took a long time to ride to no place," Gabrielle observed acidly. "I waited for you, as long as I could?"

"I'm sorry, Gabrielle. I wish I had been there for you."

"Me too." She sat at the table, shoulders slumped. It had been a long day and a longer night. Her eyes fell on the cold hearth, an appropriate reminder of the last meal she'd cooked. Xena followed her gaze, and rose to stir the cinders to life.

"I keep thinking that if I'd tasted a little bit, I would have gotten sick, thrown it all away, and Archon would still be alive." She looked at Xena, waiting for consolation.

"Don't blame yourself, Gabrielle. If it was a poison mushroom, you'd be dead from a taste. But it wasn't the mushrooms."

"Xena, thanks for trying, but I don't see any other explanation."

"Gabrielle, I've known mushrooms since I was a kid. I've never been wrong. Those were edible. I'd stake my life on it."

"Too late," Gabrielle said with a bitter smile.

"Oh yeah?" Xena lifted the door to the root cellar. "I'll eat every one to prove it," she muttered.

"That wouldn't prove anything, Xena. If it was one mushroom, and Archon got it?" she shrugged. "Besides, when I heard about Archon, I threw the remainder in the fire. I don't think they're worth the risk anymore."

"You were so sure," Xena fumed. "So sure I had to be the one at fault."

"Xena, we all make mistakes. Maybe you should learn to accept that."

"I didn't make a mistake," she growled.

"You won't even admit the possibility?" Gabrielle demanded.

"Not about this. I didn't cause Archon's death."

"You're being ridiculous."

"I'm sorry you think so," she countered through lips so tight they were ringed white. "I think it's ridiculous that you all leaped to the same conclusion with no evidence."

"Xena, a healthy man ate a bowl of soup and dropped dead. It doesn't Plato to figure it out."

"And now all the evidence is gone," Xena said, as if to herself. "Wait a minute," she said suddenly. "What happened to the pot? And his bowl?"

"The pot's been scrubbed out, burned clean with hot coals. The bowl was smashed into the fire. Good thing, too. You'd kill yourself trying to prove a point."

"The right point," Xena nodded emphatically.

"Xena, why is this so important? Is it just about pride?"

"Yeah; I guess so," Xena said defiantly. And the little matter that I don't want to know that one more innocent is dead because of me.

Chapter Twenty Nine

It had been a dream. Impossible that it was anything else; unthinkable. Nothing in the glade was real, she reasoned, the place seemed to have a life of its own, appearing like the puffballs which follow a thunderstorm. But then, that was just like Ares, materializing for a moment, wreaking havoc, and retreating into the ether. That thought made it easy to believe it was his glade, easier to believe she had met him there; his breath had been hot, his flesh hard, demanding; and she had yielded. She sat up, breathing hard, sweat beading her body as sensations washed through her. If any of it was real, it could all be real. And looming out of the darkness, dwarfing all the shadows in the room, was the table: big, solid, hewn from walnut she’d found in the glade. Dreams didn’t leave solid mementos. She threw back the covers. No more sleep tonight.

"What are you doing?" Gabrielle had awakened to the sound of pouring water. Xena spoke without looking. "I need a bath," was all she said, as she emptied the iron cook pot into the wide wooden tub they used for bathing, among other things. This was the third pot she had heated and emptied, still the bath would be shallow, but almost hot.

"Odd time for a bath," Gabrielle observed with a yawn. "Do you feel all right?"

"Fine." Xena didn’t bother to smile reassurance. The light was too dim, and she knew from the muffled voice that she was already snuggled under the blanket again.

"Don't take too long, Xena. You'll get a chill."

Xena paused, one foot in the little tub, the other still on the cold floor, and looked at the sleeping form, knowing how nice it was to be cared for; it only made the guilt worse. "Right," she said with as much appreciation as she could put into one word. Won't be long, she told herself, just need to feel clean. You wouldn't understand why, Gabrielle, not this time. I hardly understand.

Gabrielle listened at the edge of sleep, wondering at the almost frantic pace of movement. She guessed it had to do with Archon's sudden death. She had thought of little else, had dreamt of it, dreamt of the impending birth of Archon's child, shuddered now to think of Sepra and her child in Tartarus, alone. "Xena?" The sounds had stopped. The faint scent of soapy water surprised her; it was the harsh soap they used for cleaning household goods. "Are you coming back to bed?" The silent pause suggested that was not in Xena's plans. "Please? I could use you over here." There was still no reply, but soft footsteps crossed the room. Still-damp hair brushed her face as Xena settled down. Just out of touch. "You may as well have been on the other side of the room last night."

It was a gentle complaint; Xena happily accepted the invitation implicit in those words.

It had been a long, lonely night; Gabrielle had been badly shaken by the death of Archon, deserved some comfort. I was unavailable, Xena acknowledged. She worked an arm under her shoulders now, wrapped her securely with the other, and fitted herself against the woman so that only soft doeskin came between them

"It was hard not to think of Archon last night," Gabrielle was saying. Xena grunted noncommittally; her own thoughts had been of Ares. "Do you think Sepra will be all right?"

"I don't know Gabrielle; people who work hard and have a modicum of sense should survive. It doesn't always work that way." So much was obvious. "She'll have a lot of help."

They were silent for a moment following their own thoughts, then: "Xena? What I said about the mushrooms last night; I wasn't blaming you ? "

"Don't worry about it."

"It sounded so harsh, now that I look back on it. You didn't deserve that."

"I probably did, for something," she responded with a wan smile. Infidelity? Maybe?

"You're not angry? You were so distant, I thought maybe..."

"No," Xena said softly. "I'm not angry. And if I was, so what? I get over it. With you. You should know that by now." She ventured a squeeze of her hand. She hadn't explained the distance.

"I do know that," Gabrielle said, "but I missed you last night.? Silence. "Xena, we have to talk about what's wrong with us."

A beat, then : "Okay." No point pretending nothing was wrong, though it sent a shiver through her to hear it said aloud. For a moment only the wind was heard, rattling the shutters.

Gabrielle chuckled softly. "I feel sometimes like the wind, whining steadily in your direction."

Xena's arms clutched her tightly in startled reaction. "Whining? No, you never - "

"Xena, I whine, and bitch," she went on resolutely. "I hear it in my voice and I hate it. Especially because it's always directed at you. Always. I was never like that," she said with shocked realization, "I'm not like that with Hermia, or even with Arthea. Why am I so quick to snap at you?" She moved her shoulders in a small shrug. "Lest you think this is an exercise in self-reproach, let me point out that you haven't been the easiest person to live with. Grumpy. Distant. Moody. These are all adjectives I could put to good use if I were to detail this portion of our lives together. Luckily, I'm not writing much about us lately. After all, how many ways can I describe the thrill of the hunt?"

"I hunt too much?" Xena asked, confusion evident in her voice.

"Oh yeah," Gabrielle replied archly. "Rabbits will go the way of the golden hinds if you don't let up."

"I thought you like to eat?" came from between tight lips.

"That's not a criticism, Xena, just an observation. I think that's the problem You're not a hunter, Xena. You're a warrior."

"You sound like Ares," came the slow reply, with a ghostly chuckle.

"Ares? Why not?" the bard conceded after a moment. "He knows you almost as well as I do. But he sees you as a warrior for his dark designs. I know you as a warrior of the light. The skills may be the same, but the motives are very different." She turned to face the warrior, wrapped her in a loose embrace. "I don’t know how you can be a warrior here, Xena. We’ve covered the same ground a dozen times: You won’t be overlord. But your life has to be about more than protecting me, providing for me. For both our sakes."

"About what, then Gabrielle? I'm damned if I know."

"I can't answer that; I just have an uneasy feeling that if you- we -don't find the answer to that, we'll find ways of tormenting each other for the rest of our lives."

"Tormenting? Is it that bad?" The deeper voice was uneasy.

"It's torment to be in the same room, yet miles apart. That's one Zeno hasn't touched yet." Gabrielle snaked an arm around to feel the warm flesh behind her, managing to tickle a rib gently. "You're still the one I want warming my bed. But there was a time we laughed," she ended dismally.

"Gabrielle?" Xena waited for Gabrielle to dry herself with the linen towel. Wet locks of hair framed her face as she looked up, waiting for Xena to continue.

"I think I'll stay close to home today. There's plenty to do, and maybe we can spend some time together."

"Today?" Gabrielle asked, her voice soft. "I promised Hermia I'd come by. Sepra will need- "

"Sepra. Yeah." Xena nodded. " Not all day?" she hoped aloud.

"Well, a good part of the day. Why not join us?? Gabrielle suggested warily.

"Sure. Sepra would love that." Xena rubbed her long feet together before the fire.

"I'd love that. Please, Xena?"

"Gabrielle, her pain is still too raw - "

"Xena, you can't avoid Sepra forever."

"I'm not avoiding anyone," came the indignant response. "I don?t often sit around the cook fires with you ladies," she hissed, "this doesn't seem like the best time to start."

Gabrielle almost felt the heat as the words spilled out, then Xena was quiet. You ladies. That hurt, but not enough to become an issue. "Okay, okay," she said, conciliating, without knowing why. Xena had spent many days in the warmth of the baker's home. "You're not avoiding her. Just another essential hunting trip, more time alone." That's what this is about, she decided quietly. "Still, if you're going to deliver the baby, Sepra should - " She broke off as Xena stood abruptly.

"Fine. I'll come to Hermia's." Don't need more time alone, Xena realized, and quickly moved her eyes from the fire, away from Gabrielle's questioning gaze.

Gabrielle opened her mouth to ask a question, then said instead: "I'm glad, Xena."

Xena found herself apart from the tiny group even as she sat in their midst. She would have welcomed the company of Drax and Ileander, but the men were tending the goats. Even the ubiquitous Arthea was nowhere in sight. Hermia shot her a sympathetic grimace as she refilled her mug with ale. How many times was that? Xena shrugged and returned to her survey of the fields. Hard to gauge the seasons here, but spring seemed suddenly in a hurry to arrive. Hints of green showed amid the brown grasses. Soon the cycle of planting and harvesting would begin again; and the lambing. In Amphipolis, it would hold the attention of the region for - She shoved the thought aside. Amphipolis was past. The more immediate concern would be birthing Sepra's goats. The woman herself seemed ready to deliver. She was certainly big enough. Through red-rimmed eyes she took tiny stitches in a piece of linen, looking up on occasion to Hermia, busy with her loaves, and Gabrielle, monitoring Lilla's progress as she formed crude letters with a piece of charcoal on a small wooden tile. Then her eyes fell on Xena. She smiled, but she looked quickly away as new tears filled her eyes.

Fat lot of good I'm doing here, Xena acknowledged. "The goats have settled in nicely," she said suddenly. Sepra sniffled to clear her nose, then replied: "Tartarus bred. They'll be content with very little."

Xena snorted her disgust at the truth in those words, at the resignation in the tone. Nothing could ever change here, she decided, in a land where even the free born expected nothing, that was exactly what they'd get. What had Archon left behind, after a lifetime of toil? A herd of scrawny goats, exhausted fields and a wife at the mercy of anyone stronger. Which would be practically everyone. And one earring, exchangeable for battered cast-off goods. She fingered her own in disgust.

"Gabrielle, I think it's gonna rain. Hard. Let's start back."

Gabrielle looked up. startled. "Rain?" she asked in a mocking tone, then caught something in Xena's face. "You know, that's a good idea. There's no shelter between here and home," she explained to the women. "Lilla, we'll do this again tomorr- or soon," she amended.

It would rain, soon, she decided, casting a wary glance at the high clouds, but not today.

"Thank you, for coming, Xena," Gabrielle said. "That's not your idea of a fun time. You could have been - "

"What? Killing off the rabbit population? It was all right," she told her with a small shrug. "I just took all I could at one draught."

The bard regarded her with concern, as she trotted alongside. Something had unsettled her, but there had been nothing out of the ordinary? She worked at framing the right question, that was half the trick of communicating with Xena, she’d learned, finding the right question, but her eyes fixed on a figure on the road ahead. Damn. "Isn't that Arthea," she asked sourly.

"Yeah."

"I wondered where she was today. She usually buzzes around you like a bee around nectar."

"Gabrielle, you make too much of that."

"Really?" She watched smugly as the woman approached, smiling a greeting to Xena long before they were in earshot. "She'd eat you alive if you let your guard down," she said with a nod. "Not that I doubt your fidelity, Xena." She wondered at the sudden tension in the warrior's body, then turned her attention to what Arthea was saying.

"Just dropped a couple of loaves at your door," she said magnanimously.

"You know Hermia always gives me the loaves when I drop by," Gabrielle said with a lingering emphasis on the name of maker of the loaves.

"True," Arthea said, nonplussed, "but I thought Xena might be spending a long, hungry day waiting for your return. After last night I didn't know if she'd be welcome." Her warm smile left no doubt that she held Xena blameless.

"No one blames Xena - " the bard began testily.

"It's all right, Gabrielle," Xena soothed. "Thanks for your concern Arthea. Sorry you wasted a trip." Xena's voice held a note of finality, but the woman persisted.

"No matter. Maybe I could walk alongside for a little way?" Her voice trailed off, hopefully.

"Rain's coming." Someday. "You'd better get on home," Xena told her firmly.

"Hmmm," Arthea nodded in agreement after a moment. "Another time. Goodbye then." Her eyes settled on Gabrielle for a moment. "Another time," she repeated meaninglessly, and continued her saunter down the road.

"She gives me the creeps." Gabrielle looked after her for a long time.

"C'mon, Gabrielle. She's gone."

"For now. She's only ever a few miles away."

We could remember who encouraged her to settle so near, but we won't, Xena mused.

"We could move," she said instead. "Away from Arthea."

"And Hermia, and Lilla and Sepra and her baby and Nara."

"Why not?" Xena asked solemnly.

"Okay," Gabrielle laughed. "I'd like a nice house built around a courtyard in Athens, not too large. Near the amphitheater," she added. "Since we can't have that, we may as well stay put."

"What happened to the cave at the end of the world?" Xena responded with her own strained laugh.

"What?? Gabrielle asked, puzzled.

"You once said - " Xena began, then stopped. "Never mind." It was too long ago; only months really, but in another lifetime. ‘I'd live with you in a cave at the end of the world.’ That’s what you said Gabrielle, she remembered. "Do you sometimes wish we'd never left Prestia?" she asked instead.

"All the time," Gabrielle answered with the certainty of one who'd considered the question many times. "You asked," she reproached Xena, when she caught sight of the tiny frown. "You were happy there, in the end," she reminded her. "There was so much to do, the people loved you. And you loved them."

"Why not? They stood up and fought back," Xena said fiercely, "not like these people." Her head moved to encompass the whole of Tartarus. "Content with little," she said contemptuously.

Gabrielle reigned Glider to a halt, incredulous. "You fault them for that? Sepra, Hermia and the others? You dare criticize them? Let me point out that the people of Prestia did damn all about their problems until you took the lead."

"Yeah, well, they came through in the end," she muttered in reply.

"You came through, Xena. And the Amazons. Most of Prestia stood by and watched while you fought that battle. How does hindsight transform them into heroes? Are they caught up in the afterglow of battle memories? Would you prefer Sepra if she carried a sword?"

"Of course not," Xena countered sullenly. "But I can't stand that resignation."

"Xena, she's been here her whole life, scratching a living out of very grudging soil. It's no easy job. What more do you want her - or any of them - to do?" she demanded. She looked closely at the woman who was peerless in the art of survival. "Change happens slowly, Xena, and it needs a catalyst, some agent to make it happen. She was eager enough to learn to read. She wants her baby to read and write. That will make a change in this place, someday," she said with satisfaction. "That's my contribution." Argo watched Glider as she was spurred ahead, wondering at Xena's inactivity.

Chapter 30

"You surprise me, Xena." He dismounted gratefully. The tour of Tartarus required long hours in the saddle. This opportunity to rest his backside while satisfying his curiosity was more than welcome. In point of fact, Phyrris would satisfy the far greater curiosity of King Tarkian with this visit.

Xena had been easy to find. Tales had been told in Mustrakis by the peddlers who survived the riot at the marketplace. Amid the tatters of their belongings, and their adamant promises to avoid this region henceforth, tales of the evening, and the woman who averted total disaster leaked through. Phyrris found it hard to reconcile that woman with the homestead they stood before: sturdy, humble, so much a thing of this desolate place. Yet here she was, looking much as she had when the convict journey began, except she was clad in leather, rather than the coarse convict tunic.

"Everyone knew where you put down roots," he told her amiably.

She regarded him with eyes of flint. "Good." She snapped her head to display a dangling earring. "It’s still there. I'm still here. Was there anything else?"

"I had hoped there'd be no hard feelings," he offered, overlooking the hostile tone. "I was doing my job."

"Yeah, fine. Like I said: Was there anything else?"

He looked at the small house, where Gabrielle was framed in the doorway. "I see you're still together." He moved a hand in a small wave at Gabrielle; it was acknowledged with a small nod of her head.

"That was Tarkian's plan," she acknowledged dryly. It's always been my plan, was her silent acknowledgement. "And" she pressed.

"I had expected you'd have more ambition than this." He smiled, as if to show he meant no disrespect. "Damn it, Xena," he exclaimed when she made no reply, "you could run this place. We, er, I expected that by now."

"I'd have imposed order on Tartarus? Tarkian sent the murderer to keep the peace. She's not interested in fulfilling his notion of irony."

"The Sweetwater is thriving, Xena, this part of it anyway. The pouch of earrings from this sector is pitifully small."

"I like things quiet in my backyard," she told him. Safe for Gabrielle, she told herself. "That's as far as it goes."

"Your backyard is likely to get very crowded. Folk from all over are resettling here, because of you," he smiled, and received an impatient shrug in reply.

"Some of us have work to do; if there's nothing else...?" she lifted an eyebrow in query.

"Just one thing: It's said you?ve met with Petra Tartras. Her contacts with convicts are not usually cordial."

"Who said it was cordial?"

"Regardless. Any contact with her could be useful."

"Useful? To whom? I'm not here as an agent of Mus," she reminded him.

"Do you wonder why we don't send an expedition to break that bitc- woman's power?" he asked. Because you know you'd fail, Xena thought, but let him answer his own question. "She's the first line of defense against the Tribes. I know she'd as soon see the Three Kingdoms in ruins, but she busies herself with the Tribes. If we could forge an alliance..."  He stopped, wondering at the broad grin which spread across Xena's face.

"An alliance to defeat the Tribes? With Petra? Why would she be interested? Her people are semi-nomadic. The Tribes trouble them less than the convicts. Do you think she'd do anything to encourage settlement from your kind, farmers, builders-of-fences, soldiers? Not likely."

He considered her words carefully, knowing that she had seen more of the world than he, trusting a knowledge so wide. "Is that an honest appraisal," he asked, because he had to.

"Mostly," she conceded.  "leave you to figure the rest."

As the trail of dust from the departing horses settled, Gabrielle absorbed the repeated conversation. "What is the 'rest', Xena?" she inquired softly.

"Petra's keeping a lot of balls in the air. It's a neat trick, but it can't be done forever."

"Someday she?ll have to choose the lesser poison," Gabrielle concluded. "She could do a lot of good," she mused.

"Good?"

"This land is crying out for order, Xena. If Petra chose to take the lead ..."

"She won't," Xena said, gesturing as if to shoo a pesky fly. "She thrives on disorder and chaos - except in her own camp. I did," she added, showing her teeth in a feral grin. "Petra will only forge an alliance with equals. That narrows the possibilities quite a lot. The Tribes, the kingdoms, the convicts - all beneath her."

"Then what happens when the balls start to fall, Xena?"

Slowly, Xena stooped to collect a handful of stones from the ground. She held them in her open palm for a moment, then flipped up her hand. As the stones pelted the ground she spoke softly:  "You tell me, Gabrielle. And keep your head covered."

There was another visit, to the woman, Hermia, to be made. Her bread would be welcome after the steady diet of small game and meal cooked around the campfires. Phyrris sensed even his mount grow anxious as they approached the farm, with its mingled scents of grains and hay and humanity. Curious it was, the motley crew that emerged from the house, the new barn, and the bushes which edged the fields. Hermia he expected. Drax was a surprise; Ileander's appearance at his side less surprising. He had observed much on the way to Tartarus, after the ugly riot. Arthea was the biggest surprise. She had no place here, it seemed, not with the two men, who stood together, certainly not with the sturdy woman who squinted at Phyrris, hands smoothing the sides of her long-worn apron.

Because he respected her skill as a baker, and because she looked a little like his mother, Phyrris greeted her with a pleasant nod, using her name to show he remembered. "Much has been improved here," he observed. "Lucky I'm not here to collect a household tax," he said, by way of a small joke. No joke, really, he thought. Tarkian would do well to collect taxes on the likes of Hermia. The woman did not see the joke.

"We've patched the place a bit," she conceded. "You'll be wanting bread."

"Yes, and news. Any earrings to be recorded?"

"None."

"What of that pouch in the root cellar?" Arthea asked, enjoying Hermia's surprise at her knowledge.

"You're dreaming, girl," Hermia growled. "That's just bent nails. Never know what might come in handy," she told Phyrris.

He was happy to let it drop. The mysteries and intrigues of Tartarus proved tiresome. He directed his attention to Drax. "I thought you'd be wearing the crest of an overlord.?

"Didn't suit me," he murmured, eyes creased against the glare of the sun.

"You lot in The Sweetwater are independent," Phyrris observed. "You'd best pray to the gods you never need any help."

"We're not likely to be helped, except by ourselves," Drax rejoined. "The Overlord is worth damn all when there's a problem."

"You rely on Xena." It was a statement.

"We rely on each other. It's good to have Xena on our side."

Pointless discussion, Phyrris admitted to himself. "I'll take as much of your excellent bread as you can spare, ma'am" he told Hermia. "Then I'll visit that keeper of goats, Archon, for some excellent cheese."

A look passed among them. "Archon's gone for a ride on Charon's boat," Arthea supplied. "He swallowed an evil mushroom."

"So?" This was news. A minor point in the world at large, but in this small community the disposition of a herd of goats and a tidy homestead would be of major significance. "His woman, is she managing alone?" His question was direct, but they all saw beneath the few words.

"She won?t be forced into marriage, no one will seize what's hers. We'll take care of Sepra," Drax replied with conviction.

"And the baby on it's way," Arthea added, eager for something to say. "Sepra's of longtime Tartarus stock. She'll survive."

"I hope so," he replied, sincerely. We'd best do some business now," he told Hermia. "We've a lot of riding yet to do. Overlords to call on, tales of raiding to be endured, earrings to be tallied..." Damn this place and the shabby folk who lived here, he thought, suddenly annoyed, so that his next words were an unexpected growl: "The bread had better be fresh."

It was as Hermia said. The first of the Spring raids began within days of Phyrris 's visit. The Tribes ventured only to the edge of The Sweetwater, but was enough to send those living on the fringes closer to the center, closer to Xena. And it brought a flurry of activity from the Overlord's guard.

"Making sure they're no threat to him," Hermia observed, punching a mass of dough as she spoke.

"Hmmmm." Gabrielle looked up from a scroll. "Did you say something?" she asked, suddenly aware of Hermia's voice.

"Nothing to compete with whatever you're writing," the other woman replied mildly. A small cluster of scrolls, newly fashioned by Ileander, lay on the table. Next to them were bits of charcoal, honed to an edge, ready for writing on the thin bits of board Xena had contrived from spare bits of wood. The tools of learning. Gabrielle regarded them with satisfaction, rough though they were. It was a start. The first students would arrive soon. Gabrielle felt the thrill of anticipation, had known it for days. Xena had remarked on it the night before, imploring Gabrielle to come lie with her. "Gabrielle, you can't be more than ready," she'd argued.

"But I can enjoy it, revel in the knowledge it's really going to happen," the bard had countered. Now she was in Hermia?s home, chosen for its centrality; everyone came to Hermia's. The first lessons would be here. Gabrielle returned to her scroll, resisting the temptation to stare out the window, waiting to spy her first pupil. "I think they're late," she said aloud. Arthea suppressed a sniggle.

In  the nearby field Xena's thoughts mirrored Arthea's, and received more attention than  the blade of the scythe she honed. The sun had long been up; soon it would reach its zenith, and no one had arrived for the lessons. Her heart sank a little, knowing how keenly Gabrielle would feel the disappointment. She had an urge to find the nearest human and force attendance at the lesson. Instead she reviewed all the very good reasons that made absence understandable. There was always something to do here, something which required attention, which demanded attention if you hoped to survive. Then there were the distances, and the Tribes. She was satisfied that she could make a good case for Gabrielle, to ease the hurt. They've already been paid for their help, with earrings, she could add, but she wouldn't. That would really hurt, for Gabrielle to know how little confidence Xena had in her scheme. Gabrielle had been so pleased to think she could pay in kind, with lessons, for the help they'd received when Xena was hurt. Now the truth would emerge with a vengeance.

With a grim shake of her head she hefted the scythe and climbed the knoll which shielded the eastern meadow from view. It was almost time for planting, again. This would be yet another battle against the encroaching hordes of weeds. Her eye caught a flicker of movement, and her head snapped around, scanning the distant road. She saw the dust first, then bits of color, a shirt, a scarf, the dull coat of a donkey. Not the Tribes, she realized, relieved, nor the Overlord's minions. This was more than a family, seeking bread, or refuge. An idea formed; she considered, dismissed it, then started toward them, puzzling at the number of children in the group. She recognized a face, and was about to call out when the woman spoke to her: "We've come for our lessons, Xena. Making a right holiday of the occasion!"

Xena nodded, an exaggerated nod, her smile making her pleasure evident to the group. "Gabrielle's waiting, she'll be happy to see you," she called back, then muttered: "Not as happy as I am."

"They really came," she said to Hermia, in a far corner. Gabrielle was demonstrating the formation of letters on a large board propped against the wall. Every face was turned to her, rapt with wonder at the source of this magic. Reverence was in their eyes. Xena knew the look; for other reasons it had been directed at her, on occasion. It's so right, Gabrielle, that they love you this way. How could they not love you? Gabrielle looked over at that moment, as if drawn by the thought.

"There's a pouch full of earrings in the cellar, Xena," Hermia whispered. "No one would take them, all winter.  I think now, no one ever will. Xena nodded her acceptance of Hermia?s judgement.

"Keep them," she told the woman, "against a rainy day."

"It's a start, Xena. I have students. Eager, bright; I feel as if I have a purpose again." The day had been long. Hermia had insisted they stay for supper, to celebrate.

Again? Xena wondered. "That's fine, Gabrielle," she affirmed, uncertainly.

"What's wrong, Xena? Afraid I won't have time for you? Not a chance," she shook her blonde mane heartily, exhilarated to the ends of the strands.  "But I would accept a confession if you'd like to unburden yourself."

Xena started, moved hastily to rub imaginary dust from her eye, blinked several times, fast, to cover her surprise, to rid her self of the sudden vision of Ares.  "What am I supposed to be confessing?" she asked at last, genuinely confused. Ares? This was not the tone Gabrielle - anyone - would take over infidelity.

"Think I don't know?" the bard went on smugly. "I have eyes, and I know you well," she reminded.

The earrings. Damn, she knows about the earrings, that I meant to pay off  -

"Athenodorus and the ghost." The bard interrupted her desperate thoughts. "You hung on every word. Just like the others. It's a good story, and I tell it well," she said. "I'm not boasting, mind you, but I've heard that story told by the rankest amateurs,"

Xena nodded as she went on, vaguely confessed to loving the story, while swallowing a huge gulp of guilt behind her smiles. The earrings made her uncomfortable, would be seen as a monstrous breach of faith, but Ares. There were some things that couldn't be forgiven. Even if they weren't true?She started to sort through the wreckage of that memory, but that's all it was, fast-receding flotsam, jetsam?

"Of course it's not as good as the story  of - Xena? Are you listening?" The sudden change in tone brought Xena back to the present moment. She was in the tiny home she shared with Gabrielle, the fire spread  warmth to every corner, lit the recesses, even in the low rafters. Like she warms me. The words spread through her, finding the rhythm of her heart, and beating there, becoming one with her. "Gabrielle." How can I lie? Yet I do. It was a puzzle. All of it. "I'm sorry. I was thinking."

"You're excused," the other woman laughed amiably, as she brushed crumbs from the long table. Nothing could spoil this evening, she felt: not wild Tribes, or wolves?"Xena, I think I could laugh at Tarkian tonight. Or Ares," she ended with a toss of her head.

A chill ran though the room, striking the warrior's heart. "Why are you thinking about Ares tonight, of all nights?"

"I don't know. Sometimes he comes to mind. I guess he has to. He's been a big part of our lives," she acknowledged.

"He was. That's over, Gabrielle. It's all left behind, with the rest."

"Good. If that's the truth. Maybe it is," she shrugged, taken by a sudden thought. "It's so peaceful here, except for the Tribes. For the first time, I think your presence has brought peace. At least to The Sweetwater. You don't even have to do anything, really. "

"No. I don't have to do anything," Xena agreed, mildly. Nothing at all.

Three days each week the gathering was large enough to constitute a class. Other days one or two people dropped in, to spend a few minutes, to learn something. Gabrielle was always ready to teach, in Hermia?s large kitchen, or at the walnut table before her own hearth. Any last vestige of surprise Xena felt at the community response was dispelled by the earnestness of the students, and the regular attendance, even among the most wretched. Convicts she reminded herself, time and again, murderers and thieves, seeking to be transformed. They had certainly come to the right  woman for that.

Gabrielle herself had been transformed, in some ways, by Tartarus. She was tougher, like all the creatures in this spare land. The prairie grasses here displayed few flowers, but those blossoms were hardy, their vibrant hues delighting the eye, even from a distance. Gabrielle, too had found a way to blossom here; moreover, she seemed to be taking root. That was hard to watch, hard to acknowledge. Xena's mind still worked on the puzzle of how to escape Tartarus, more frequently since the encounter with Ares. She had an uneasy sense that something needed to be done soon. Yet she was damned if she knew what that something might be. All the while, Gabrielle's ties here strengthened. "We can't take them all with us," she muttered to herself. She passed much of her time in earshot of the house, wherever they met for the day, finding some small chore to do, waiting for the guests to leave. She was by the stream, watching the darting trout, when she first saw the Amazon, and followed at a distance, as the buckskin clad woman entered the house.

Petra had said there was an Amazon in Tartarus, was Gabrielle's first thought. The second was acknowledgement that she was not from her tribe. The third was to make her welcome. "Come in," she said, gesturing expansively. There was no response, but the Amazon sat on the floor, in the corner furthest from the others. Gabrielle smiled, nodded agreement with that arrangement, and returned to the letters she had carefully inscribed on the board. From the furtive glances and outright stares that were directed toward the Amazon, she guessed that the entire room shared her curiosity. The woman remained in the corner, mute, unstirring, even when the class was over, and the others had gathered their belongings and tumbled outside. Gabrielle pulled herself away from the usual departing chit-chat, and crossed to the woman. Her dress was well-worn, unadorned except for the elaborate quill-work on the bodice, which was repeated on a soft leather collar that ensheathed her neck.

"I'm Gabrielle." There was no response. "I'm an Amazon, too, from further west." She pointed to where her ceremonial mask hung. That brought a nod, but still no words. "I guess you want to learn to write?" Gabrielle ventured. At that, the Amazon rose, strode to Gabrielle's board, and replied, in clear, almost elegant letters: "I am Angrad. I have come to meet you." She drew a thick line under 'you'.

"Oh." Gabrielle waited for more, but the woman was looking at her as if with some purpose. "Because I, too, am an Amazon?" Gabrielle asked, to break the silence.

The mass of wild, dark hair was shaken, an emphatic "No." She wrote again: "Because I, too, am a bard." She smiled, but there was a sadness in her eyes. "I want to hear your stories," she wrote, "I want to share the tales of my people."

"I'd like that," Gabrielle said, longing to hear the woman speak, wondering at her muteness. As if in reply to the unaksed question, Angrad pulled the sheath from her neck, revealing an angy scar, a malevolent serpent half-coiled round her throat. The woman held Gabrielle?s eyes until she saw understanding dawn there, as Gabrielle guessed that her vocal chords had been severed.

"Who?" she whispered.

"In Mus," came the written reply.

"Why?"

"They didn't like my stories,"she wrote hastily, and shook with silent laughter.

"That's horrible," Gabrielle responded, struck by the banality of the word. "Savage."

Angrad shrugged, as if long used to her personal tragedy, and settled the soft length of doeskin around her neck again.

"Where do you live?" Gabrielle asked. "I haven't seen you here before.

Angrad made a wide sweeping movement with an arm, and waggled her hand, trusting Gabrielle to know her meaning.

"You're a wanderer?" Angrad nodded. "Will you stay with us a while?" No. The head shake was firm. "Can I ask why you were sent to Tartarus?" Gabrielle inquired after a moment.

Angrad pointed to her last words.

"Because they didn?t like your stories?" Gabrielle read, puzzled, then followed Angrad's gaze to the door, where Xena stood. Angrad rose abruptly. "Xena, we have a visitor," Gabrielle said hurriedly, sensing Angrad's imminent flight.

"I see," Xena smiled. "Welcome," she said to Angrad, but the Amazon was already moving past her, casting a pregnant glance.

"What did I say?" Xena deadpanned.

"She has reason to be wary of people," Gabrielle said, in defense of Angrad.

"Wary of me," Xena rejoined. "I don't blame her. If she's been here any amount of time, what she knows of me and Amazons wouldn't inspire trust. Xena can only mean one thing to her. It sure isn't 'hospitable stranger'. What did she want? Schooling?"

"No, Xena, she can read. And write." She held up the board with her few, potent words. "She just wanted to meet another bard. I guess it's been a long time."

"What?'s wrong, Gabrielle?" Xena wanted to know, concerned by the pained expression on the young woman?s face.

"Just another mystery of Tartarus, I guess." Briefly Gabrielle told as much as she knew. "A bard with no voice," she ended sadly. "How cruel. I'd love to know the rest of the story."

"I'm sure you will," Xena guessed. "I don?t think we?ve seen the last of her."

Angrad was much in evidence over the next few days; those who hadn?t seen her seemed much aggrieved, as if they'd missed a procession, or a fair.

"Not such a big deal," Hermia opined, not looking up from the mass of dough she kneaded. "She wears hides like so many others here. Now Petra Tartras, that one's a sight."

"Petra's not so much," Arthea put in. "A raggle-taggle 'army' to lead; she doesn't even have a proper home. A barbarian," she concluded. "I like cities, myself. You can find some fun there. Why, any woman in Mustrakis makes a finer sight than Petra - "

"All the barbarians aren't in Tartarus," Gabrielle threw at her, remembering her own experience of Mustrakis, wondering about Angrad's.  "This place is Elysian after some places" Her voice trailed off.

"You've got the best of it." Arthea's sharp retort brought all action to a halt. In the corner, Lilla looked up from the crust she was munching.  "For the rest of us it's not so la-di-dah. Give me Xena and I'm sure I'll be happy 'til the sun sets. And very happy 'til it comes up again." She grinned wickedly.

"Well, you don't have her, Arthea," Hermia said evenly. "Fetch some of that hard cheese from below," she ordered, happy to make an end to the suddenly querulous atmosphere. "Honestly, I don't know why I let her stay on," she muttered when Arthea had flounced sullenly down the short flight to the cellar.

"Because you're a good person," Gabrielle offered. "Better than I am. I can't even imagine?" She recalled how close she had come to finding a place for Arthea, and Lutus. Xena was right on that call. 

"And I feel better having her in front of me than behind me," Hermia concluded quickly, as Arthea made a good deal of noise coming up the few steps. The jingling puzzled  Hermia, until she remembered the small pouch behind the yeast tub?

Arthea flew into the room, dropped a small sack of noisome cheese in reach of Hermia, and continued on to Gabrielle. There she dropped the leather pouch. "About time Xena got these back, don't you think," she asked pointedly.

"Yeah, sure," Gabrielle began warming quickly to her reply. Whatever reaction Arthea was looking for, she was not going to get it. Arthea eyed her keenly, cast a quick glance at Hermia, who continued her quiet bread-thumping, and was satisfied that she was right: Gabrielle knew nothing of the role Xena had intended for the earrings.

"Xena's not often wrong," Arthea forged ahead, "but she missed this one by a league. Folk here are really keen to learn," she opined. "No need to pay them off with earrings." There: it was out. Hermia nodded aimlessly, wondering how Arthea had discovered or guessed at the secret deal she'd made with Xena. She was a witch, in league with some dark power, she decided.

"Right," Gabrielle nodded, a fixed smile serving to hold her emotions at bay. 'Pay them off' echoed like a cavernous roar through her suddenly numbed mind. On one level her mind was working out the puzzle, but she was only dimly aware of the process. For the moment she could only deal with Arthea's piercing gaze and her words. "If Xena's got no plans for the earrings, I'll take them."

"Sure, we'll see," Gabrielle said in a neutral tone.

"I confess," Arthea said, "I'm surprised Xena told you about it. I'd be mad as the bejabbers if someone showed so little faith in me."

Gabrielle smiled, allowing Arthea to hold her gaze, survey her eyes, gauge the smile. She can guess, but she'll never know from me, she vowed stubbornly.

Arthea nodded, silently admiring the bard's stoic control. She knew the knowledge was a surprise, expected some  strong reaction, confusion, questions; Instead there was a wall of nothing. All the better, she decided at last. Xena would reap the whirlwind.

"It wasn't much of a battle really," Xena said, flatly. "They had a fight over a deer carcass. Two arrows in it, and they couldn't tell which had brought him down. The poor deer couldn't care less,"she shrugged. The last of the day's light streamed in through the open shutters. Xena was not long returned, and was till trying to gauge the odd atmosphere.

"Hold still," Gabrielle scolded, swabbing vigorously at the abrasion Xena had sustained in the scuffle.

"I wouldn't have gotten involved except Mitras has a family; they don't need him dead." She waited for Gabrielle?s inevitable questions. When none came, she went on: "When the dust cleared I persuaded them to each take a portion of the carcass." She looked over her shoulder. "Don?t you want to know who got the hide?"she asked.

"Just so long as it wasn't us," Gabrielle said, coldly, moving to the door to toss the contents of the bowl on the ground. "We don't need another smelly hide around here."

That was decidedly unfriendly, Xena thought. "Gabrielle? Have I done something wrong?" she asked quietly, following the woman's progress around the room.

"You?" Gabrielle snorted, "don't be silly." A pause; then: "By the way, I saw Arthea today. She wanted to return something you left at Hermia's. Now where did I put it,? she asked of herself, coyly. "Oh, here it is." The leather pouch full of earrings flew into Xena's lap.

"Oh."

"Apparently nobody wants earrings in payment for helping us out when you were hurt. Can you believe it?" she continued with heavy sarcasm, "They actually want what I have to offer: literacy. So you can spend those on whatever suits your fancy, Xena, but I want no part of it."

"I know how this must look," Xena began.

"How could you, Xena?" Gabrielle interrupted, her anger growing as she spoke. "I know you didn't think my plan would work, but this? You went behind my back."

"I didn't want you to be hurt. I thought you'd never have to know, and that..." What? Xena's  voice trailed off. What had she thought? Why had she done it? It had been so long ago? "I don't know what I was thinking, Gabrielle, but I didn't want you to be hurt," she repeated. That much she did know.

"No? Well, I am hurt. If people didn't want my lessons I'd feel bad, for a while, maybe. Then, I'd get over. But this is something else, Xena. This says you have no faith in me." She held up a hand to stop Xena's words. "It says it to me, it says it to all of Tartarus. Arthea," she said in a hushed tone. "Arthea knows. I pretended otherwise, but she knows. We'll have her for a neighbor for another forty years, maybe, and she knows. It's bad enough about the rest, but Arthea? It's humiliating."

"Arthea doesn't matter."

"You didn't see her face. She matters all right. And I know why she told me. Only she won't  have the satisfaction she wants. Otherwise, I'd "- she paused. "I don't know what I'd do. More than this. I think I'm learning how much control I really have. Xena: I am really angry. Maybe too angry to show it all at once."

"You're right to be angry. I'm sorry, Gabrielle."

"I know you are. Sorry I found out, sorry that you did it. I know you don't ever mean to hurt me. But that's what makes it so hard. You do hurt me. And you're always sorry. You think I'd be used to it by now. I guess another few decades in this place and I will be. She picked up the basin and moved to the door to spill the water onto the ground. It might help if you find something to fill up your time."

That's how it was. Xena closed her fist around the pouch, feeling each earring through the leather, knowing them as the truth of Tartarus, the sum of each convict?s existence. And she knew in that moment that no real survival was possible here, not for her, not for Gabrielle, not for their life together. Another few decades? There won't be another few decades here, she swore to herself, suddenly wondering at the inertia that had pinned her here so long. Ares came to mind. Never mind. She'd dealt with him before. There was still so much else. But every puzzle had a solution, she reminded herself; it had always been so. She thought that Zeno would agree.

Chapter 31

Gabrielle did control her anger, like a dam controls a river Xena observed, watching the bard, pretending nothing had happened, thinking only of what had happened. She taught her classes, did her chores, and continued to visit Hermia, despite the baker's role in the deception. With Xena she was much the same, yet not quite. Like a shade tree in early autumn, Xena mused, the loss of one leaf seems of no significance, but in the aggregate losses left a tree bare. The leaves couldn't be restored to the tree, yet there might be some way to stave off the winter; there must be. Those were Xena's thoughts in the days that followed Arthea's spite. Ares, architect of the dilemma held the key, of that she was certain, but she wasn't anxious to return to the haunted glade. It’s a place you could lose your soul, she mused. Yet it seemed the only way.

She roused herself from what must have been a long time in thought. Gabrielle's gaze was fixed on her, puzzled.

"You looked a million miles away." It was a mild comment, yet there was a warmth, a normalcy in her voice that made Xena glad.

"Just thinking. I need to go for a while."

"Okay." I have a lot to do before my students arrive. But don't be long. In the afternoon the sun filters through the trees at such a pretty angle... l thought we could, you know, just sit and enjoy what we have."

"I'd like that Gabrielle," she said sincerely, suddenly hating to leave for even a moment. "I have to take care of something, but I won't be long."

'Long' was a relative term in Tartarus, she had found, and seemed to have no meaning at all when the glade was involved. She found the lazy stream easily enough, spied a few now familiar features of the trail, and felt accompanying soporific exhilaration. Argo plodded on, one heavy hoof after another, passed the honey-dripping hives, barely noticed by the birds which sang like no other birds in Tartarus. They traveled for what might have been days. The glade remained hidden from view. "Ares," she called at last, "Ares, damn you, show yourself!" No Ares; no frisson of electricity in the air. If anything, the place grew more still So that’s how that's how it is: Letting me twist in the wind.

She made an ugly face. "Let's go home Argo." She shuddered at the silent laughter she felt shaking the air.

"Give me a minute, Xena. I'm right here. You aren't the only business I have to attend to. So many wars, so little time."

This was a mistake, Xena felt immediately

"You wanted something?" the God of War was asking.

"I want a way out of here. As soon as possible. What are your terms?"

"Are we negotiating a treaty?"

"Close enough. You want something, I want something. Let's talk."

"This is so sudden. What won you over, my dear? What happened on the occasion of our last encounter?"

"What happened, Ares? I can't recall."

A slow smile spread across his face before he broke into hearty laughter.

"I'll keep the memory for both of us," he assured her.

"A hollow memory," she countered. "Nothing happened Ares, it was one of your little tricks. Like this glade. It only exists in my imagination. You planted it there."

"Our passion was a powerful image, Xena. It's taken you a long time to get it - me - out of your mind."

"Nightmares are like that," she agreed. "If it was real, we'd be meeting in the world of mortals, not enchanted glens. You wouldn't wait for me to come to you." Her confidence grew with every word. Maybe it had only been an Ares-induced nightmare.

"You're wrong about that, Xena. I don't mind waiting. I've always known that when you'd had enough of this mind-numbing captivity, you'd come around. Now it appears that the day is here." He cocked his head, waiting for her reply.

"I want out," she repeated. "But not at any cost."

"You aren't in much of a position to bargain," he pointed out.

"It might not look that way," she said slowly, "but you're forgetting: I could just decide to rot here; and then there's this: you seem to turn everything into a bargain. 1 used to think you just like wheeling and dealing. Now 1'm wondering if there isn't some universal law about, I don't know ...free will? You need agreement, permission, for a lot of what you do as God of War. If I - or any mortal, fails to go along, it doesn't happen. You might kill a few thousand anyway," she conceded, "but you don't get what you want." That seemed a satisfactory argument, and she paused, savoring the effect it had on him. "So, it seems we have a coincidence of wants. You go first."

Ares crossed his arms over his chest, feeling more than a bit exposed, but he nodded. "I want the hegemony of the Three Kingdoms broken. Never mind why," he told her, in anticipation of her next question.

"I want to know-" she insisted. "Have they become too peaceful?"

"They waste this land and it's warriors," he said with disgust. "Some of my finest followers rot here, while Petra Tartras oversees Tartarus with nomads. Free this place from the Three Kingdoms," he told her, "and they won't be able to hold you."

"Or any of us," she supplied.

"The others aren't your concern."

"And how do you propose I do this thing?" she asked.

"Since when do I have to tell you, Xena? One thing I've always liked about you, I don't need to fill-in all the blanks. Do what you did in Prestia: make a speech," he suggested. "Assemble an army. Your little friend has become quite capable, put her to use."

"Let's leave Gabrielle out of this."

He nodded, with a smirk. "Sure." He took a step toward her. "I've missed you, Xena. You should come by more often."

"Goodbye, Ares. I suddenly have work to do.

It was much later than she would have guessed. The sun was just an afterglow in the western sky. 'I won't be long.' How many times had Gabrielle heard that? Xena wasn't surprised that Gabrielle was not in the small house, or within calling distance. She wiped her face, suddenly feeling the long hours she had spent in the saddle, unaware. Hermia's? Sepra's? "Which, girl?" she asked the patient mare. Because the ride to Sepra's lay in the soft radiance of the western sky, and because she was less likely to meet Arthea there, Xena headed west.

Glider was tethered Sepra's yard, grazing at the bits of sweet grass the goats had left behind. Smoke rose from the chimney, vet there was no scent of food. That was odd at this time of day. It might mean - Xena's steps quickened as the thought came that the baby might have come.

"Xena. Where were you?" Gabrielle screamed the question, face contorted in grief and rage. The warrior stood at the threshold, Gabrielle's words a distant background to the scene. She surveyed the room for a long moment, trying to comprehend what it meant, the blood which seemed to be everywhere, the tiny white wrapped bundle on the table. She ignored Gabrielle's repeated question, pushed past her to the bed. Gabrielle followed at her heels, demanding an answer.

"You were supposed to be here, you said you would come back, I thought you'd handle everything. Where were you?"

Xena threw back the blanket covering Sepra's still form. The woman was not yet cold; there was no pulse, no color. She lay in a pool of scarlet, legs still apart. The bleeding had stopped with her death.

From the end of the bed Gabrielle explained: "The baby wouldn't come. It wasn't big, but it wouldn't turn. I did everything you've taught me, but it was lodged there for so long... I tried Xena," she ended quietly.

"I know Gabrielle," Xena said quietly, as she covered the woman again. "It couldn't be helped. Things can't always be fixed."

"You would have cut her Xena: I couldn't do that." She shook her head, disconsolate, then fixed an accusing glare on the warrior. "Where were you?"

Xena threw back the blanket covering Sepra’s still form. The woman was not yet cold; there was no pulse, no color. She lay in a pool of scarlet, legs still apart. The bleeding had stopped with her death.

From the end of the bed Gabrielle explained: "The baby wouldn't come. It wasn't big, but it wouldn't turn. I did everything you've taught me, but it was lodged there for so long...I tried, Xena," she wailed.

"I know Gabrielle, she said quietly, as she covered the woman again. "It couldn’t be helped; things can't always be fixed."

"You would have cut her, Xena; I couldn't do that." She shook her head, disconsolate, then fixed an accusing glance on the warrior. "Where were you?"

Xena made no reply, but crossed to the baby, which lay shrouded in swaddling clothes. She unwrapped the tiny form, hoping in vain to find some sign of life.

"Don't bother," Gabrielle said. "By the time I worked her free she was blue. And Sepra's blood was all over?" She gasped, caught her breath and went on. "The baby is so small, and I couldn't help it. Where were you?"

It was small, too small for such and advanced pregnancy, and Sepra had been huge at the end. "Gabrielle," Xena asked urgently, "there was just the one baby?"

Gabrielle nodded, puzzled. Xena whirled around and flew to Sepra?s side, threw back the cover and felt her abdomen. She ripped off her bracers and grabbed a sharp knife from the shelf; the knife Archon used for filleting fish.

"Xena what are you doing?"

"There's another baby, Gabrielle. It might not be too late. Get me hot water."

"Another?" Gabrielle watched, numb, as Xena slit open Sepra's belly, layer by layer, until she found the second life within her.

"Get me hot water," Xena barked this time. The bard sprang to life, fetched the pot from the hearth, and carried it to the bedside.

Xena lifted the baby gently and lay her on the bed beside Sepra. She grabbed nearest cloth, and gently wiped the baby's face. It was pink, and warm. Two fingers were inserted into the mouth, a huge clog of mucous was removed, and Xena thought she felt a slight sucking action. A smile flickered across her face. She held the infant by its heels, and smacked its bottom. No response.

"C'mon," she breathed. A second smack; nothing in response. She lay the baby on the bed, cleared its nose and mouth a second time, and covered the mouth with her own. She began a steady cadence of breathing, while one hand massaged the chest, still slick with birth fluids.

"Xena?" Gabrielle began, and never finished the question.

"C'mon, little guy," Xena whispered between breaths, "you gotta be tough; let's hear ya," she ordered. As if in reply a mewing came from the infant. Xena threw a glance at Gabrielle, then turned back to the baby, cradled it in her arms and rocked it gently. The mewing became a howl, then a steady wail as the lungs began their work.

"Are there any clean cloths?" she asked. Without waiting for a reply she went on: "wet them." Gabrielle moved as if in a dream, watching the action, following Xena’s command, but unconscious of any thoughts of her own. It was not until Xena had laid the baby on the table and swabbed it clean that she came to herself.

"It's a boy," Xena said over her shoulder. "He’s gonna make it, I think."

"I didn't even know." Gabrielle’s voice was lifeless.

"How could you know? You don't see this everyday."

"You knew."

Something in her voice made Xena uneasy. She looked up from her work, and was startled at Gabrielle's appearance. In the tear ravaged face was a distance that seemed unbridgeable. She finished the washing, stripped a shawl from a peg on the wall and wrapped the baby. "Gabrielle, take him," she said.

"I can't." She shook her head and held out blood caked hands.

"Take him," Xena insisted, "and sit by the fire. I need to find him food." She had to pull the bard to the fire, sit her on the large, rough hewn chair there, and place the baby in her arms. "He needs you, Gabrielle. Just hold him. I'll be right back."

Xena returned with a bladder full of goat's milk. Archon and Sepra had arranged for one goat to kiddle late, so a supply of milk would be available. They had planned well, for all the good it did them, she thought bitterly.

Gabrielle was as she had left her, but she looked up as Xena entered, and spoke.

Sepra didn't know the other one died. That was good," she nodded. "She asked me to care for her baby."

"You're doing that, Gabrielle," Xena said gently. The little boy lay at peace in Gabrielle's arms. Xena placed the bladder near the heath, in a pot of warm water. She looked around the room; there was so much to do. Sepra and the dead baby needed to be washed, a pyre built, and the room cleaned of blood. The bedding would be burned. Only it couldn't be done with Gabrielle here.

"I'll teach him to read and write," Gabrielle said softly. "Sepra would have wanted that."

"Yeah," Xena agreed.

"She would have named a son Arimedes. So this is Arimedes," she decided. I'll take good care of you. Arimedes," she promised him. "I won't let your mother down a second time."

Xena swore silently. "Gabrielle, you didn't let Sepra down. You did all anyone could do." "I did all I could do, but it wasn't enough." Green eyes bore in on Xena. "You could have done more, but you weren't here. Where - "

"I got held up," Xena muttered.

"By what? Or who?" Gabrielle asked.

Xena returned the stare, afraid to guess what Gabrielle might be thinking. "I think he needs to eat, now," she said and retrieved the bladder. The small mouth puckered around the pinhole opening. Gabrielle cooed softly, urging him to suck, while she stroked a cheek with a gentle finger. Xena watched as the sucking grew stronger, then moved closer. A furrow creased her brow. She took a hand and examined the impossibly small fingers. There was a slight bluish cast around his lips; it was repeated in his fingernails. She rubbed a hand across dry lips and moved away, busying herself with tidying the room. She called to mind the few times she'd seen that before, tried to recall a hopeful sign. There was none. The baby's thread would be cut very early. His life would be measured in months, at best. Archon, Sepra, their two babies, all gone, soon. And Gabrielle would be devastated. The woman was humming s