She checked on Alala first and found that the girl's wound was healing well, just as Maphias had said. Basil, who seemed delighted to have a midday visitor, brought out his best wineskin and filled three cups, while Maphias assembled a platter of bread, cheese, and grapes. Then Xena and the two men went out to sit in the courtyard under the shady arbor.

She told them everything -- beginning with Arsenios' arrival in town, and ending with Toris' departure. When she finished, there were several long moments of silence.

"So that's why you asked Sandros how many good archers there are in town," Maphias said finally.

"Yes," Xena replied. "And there are more than I imagined there were, so that's good."

"You will need to tell this story to the entire council," Basil said. "I can get word to the others to come this evening, if that's all right with you. Say, about sundown?"

"That would be fine."

"What will you recommend to them?" the town elder asked.

"First of all, that they put me in charge of the defense operation."

He nodded and said, "I don't think there will be any objection to that, unless--" He glanced at her crutch. "Well, you're not quite as -- nimble -- as you once were," he finished politely.

"No, but I can plan the strategy and give all the orders," Xena returned. "And I will choose a lieutenant to actually lead our fighters into battle -- if it comes to that. Mainly, I think we will be dealing with a siege situation."

"Maybe we can just negotiate with this Demetri fellow," Maphias suggested. "You know, give him a few wagonloads of supplies and send him away happy."

"Well, we'll certainly find out what his demands are," Xena said, "but the way Arsenios talked, it sounds like Demetri wants a lot more than a few wagonloads of supplies."

Maphias sighed. "I just hate to think of Amphipolis being under siege," he said. "A siege could last a long time, you know, and we might get awfully hungry before it was over."

"Yes, but I won't let it come to that," Xena said firmly. "I will find a way to break the siege. Just remember that I learned a lot of tricks in all my years as a warrior."

"That's what we're counting on," Basil said with a smile. "But what will you do first? Start training people to use weapons?"

"Yes, we can do some of that, but I think the first thing to do is check the city wall and make sure every part of it is in good condition. We have to be able to close every gate and bar it against an attack."

"We've never had to do that before -- close the gates," Basil said, shaking his head.

"No, Father," said Maphias, "but this is why we built the wall in the first place. We've just been lucky that we never had to use it."

"We've been very lucky indeed," the elder agreed. "I only wish we'd had that wall back when Cortese came around."

"Yes, that would have made things easier," Xena said, "but the fact is we managed to defend Amphipolis then, and I feel certain we can do it again." She paused to take a drink from her wine cup, and then went on. "Another thing we should do right away is start stockpiling everything we will need during a siege. Mainly, I'm thinking of food -- nonperishables like grain, and dried fruit, vegetables, and meat -- plus firewood to cook with."

"How about weapons?" Maphias asked. "Won't we need a lot of them? I suppose you'll want Sandros to stop doing carpentry now, and start making bows and arrows instead."

"It would really help us out if he could do that," Xena admitted. "In fact, we need to get all the weapons makers and blacksmiths involved as soon as possible. But some of our weapons will be simpler. We can send people out to gather rocks to throw and use in slings. And we'll need to cut saplings for spears and staffs."

"So everybody can get involved," Basil said.

"Yes. Even the children can pick up rocks. And once Toris gets back, we'll have a better idea of exactly what we're up against."

"If he gets back," Maphias said quietly. "I think you're right to be concerned about his safety."

Xena nodded, feeling the same sudden knot of fear in her stomach that she had felt when she first learned Toris was gone. "We'll just have to hope for the best," she said, then glanced up at the position of the sun. "I really need to be going," she added, "unless you have some other questions for me."

"Nothing that can't wait until the whole council's here," Basil assured her. "I'll send messages to the others this afternoon," he added.

Xena reached for her crutch and stood up. "I'll see you this evening, Basil," she said, turning to the older man and offering her hand.

"Thank you, Xena," he said as he rose and clasped her forearm warmly. "We really couldn't do this without you."

"Of course you could," she returned. "But I'm glad I'm here to help out."

"Do you still want a piece of that venison?" Maphias asked, as he also got to his feet.

"Yes, indeed. I had forgotten all about it."

"Come with me, then," Maphias said.

She got the meat from him and carried it back to her house. Then she took down her sword from the peg where it hung near the door, and slung it on her back. In recent years, there had been little opportunity for using either her sword or her chakram, although both had come in handy often during the early days, when bounty hunters and other opportunists had started turning up in Amphipolis. Once Xena had convinced them that a crippled Warrior Princess was not necessarily easy prey, however, they stopped coming. After that, the visitors had mostly been friends -- Hercules, Iolaus, Joxer, Salmoneus -- even Autolycus had dropped by once or twice.

It felt good to wear the sword again, Xena thought, as she positioned the strap over her left shoulder, so she could draw the weapon with her free hand. Then, going back out into the street, she closed the door behind her and walked to the tavern. The midday meal there was over, but a few guests still sat talking over tankards of mead. From the kitchen came the murmur of voices and the rattle of dishes, but Xena did not enter that room. Instead, she went out the back door into the courtyard, and then crossed to the house. Stepping inside the main room, she found it to be a cool haven from the hot afternoon sun. "Hello?" she called. "Anyone here?"

There was no answer, so she proceeded past Toris' and Acantha's sleeping room to the second one. This was the room her brothers had shared when they were growing up. Now it was used mainly for storage. Standing in the doorway, Xena surveyed the hampers, chests, and clay jars that lined the walls. After a moment, she moved to an old wooden chest, lifted the lid, and peered inside. Yes, this was the one. This was the chest Cyrene had filled years ago with mementos of her three children's youth.

Leaning her crutch against the wall, Xena began to take items out and pile them to one side. There was a rag doll that had once been her own, a wooden horse Toris had guarded zealously from his younger siblings, and some of Lyceus' baby clothes. About halfway down, she found what she was looking for -- a sword in its leather scabbard. Taking it out of the chest, she turned it over in her hands, noting the condition of the leather while trying to ignore the memories that came rushing into her mind. Slowly, she drew the weapon from its sheath and held it up to catch the light. The blade was badly tarnished, but it could be polished. And perhaps the nicks could be ground out of it, as well.

"What are you doing?" came a voice from the doorway. "Whose sword is that?"

"Come here, Cyrelle," Xena said without looking up.

The girl crossed to stand beside her. "That blade looks like it hasn't been used in a while," she commented.

"No, it hasn't," Xena said quietly. Then she looked at her daughter. "This was Lyceus' sword. He was fighting with it in his hand when he was hit by the arrow that killed him."

"How old was he?" asked Cyrelle.

"Sixteen."

"The same as me."

"Yes." Xena drew a deep breath and let it out. Then she put a hand on her daughter's shoulder. "Cyrelle, can you possibly understand how frightening it is for me to think of you using a sword?" she asked. "I don't want to lose you the way I lost my brother." And looking into the girl's dark eyes, Xena thought for a moment that she saw a glimmer of understanding there.

Then Cyrelle turned her gaze away. "You won't lose me," she said confidently, "because I'm going to be the best warrior ever. Maybe I'll even be better than you!" she finished with a grin.

"Maybe so," Xena allowed, "but I want you to promise me that you will always fight for good and never for evil."

Cyrelle shrugged. "Sure. Why wouldn't I?" she said.

"Because sometimes evil is hard to recognize for what it really is. It can be very subtle, and seductive, too, as I've told you before."

"Yeah, I know," the girl said in an impatient tone.

"Good," Xena said. Then she slid the sword back into its scabbard and handed it to her daughter. "This is yours now, so take good care of it."

Cyrelle took the sword, but she did not seem as excited about having it as Xena had expected. Pulling the blade partway out again, the girl ran a finger over its tarnished surface and frowned. "I'd rather have a new sword, instead of this old thing," she said.

"Lyceus loved that sword!" Xena exclaimed. "It's the one he learned to fight with! And now you don't think it's good enough for you!"

"I didn't mean that. I just meant--"

"I don't care what you meant. We can't afford a new sword for you right now, so it's this one or nothing." She stopped to take a deep breath, trying to push back the wave of anger that had swept over her so suddenly. Then she continued, "I thought you'd be glad to have something of your uncle's, but if you don't want it, I'll just put it back in the chest."

"No!" Cyrelle said quickly. "I want a sword. It's just that this one looks so . . ." She made a face.

"It will look better when it's cleaned up and sharpened," Xena said. "And I think we can get rid of some of those nicks, too."

"Okay," Cyrelle said reluctantly, and shoved the blade back into its leather sleeve. Then she brightened. "Maybe I could have Arsenios' sword instead," she suggested.

Xena shook her head. "Arsenios' sword is too heavy for you to learn with. Besides, I don't know what happened to it. Toris may have taken it with him." She gestured toward the weapon Cyrelle held. "That sword may not be fancy," she said, "but it's a good, sturdy weapon, and I think you'll learn to like it."

Cyrelle nodded. "When can we start?" she asked.

"Whenever you get off work."

"I'm already off."

"All right. Let me just put this stuff away and we can get going."

"I need a belt," Cyrelle said.

"A belt?"

"So I can wear my sword."

Xena glanced into the chest, and then reached in to pull out a belt, which she handed to Cyrelle. "What do you know," she said with a grin. "Just the thing we need, just when we need it." She returned the rest of the items to the chest while Cyrelle fiddled with the belt.

"Should I wear the sword at my waist or on my back?" the girl asked.

"Try it both ways and see which works better," Xena suggested. She closed the chest and reached for her crutch. "Are you ready?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Okay, let's go."

CHAPTER 12

They walked out the west road from town, passed the ashes of the previous day's funeral pyre, and took refuge from the heat among some trees near the river. "We'll start by learning to parry," Xena said. She slipped the crutch out from under her arm and propped it against a tree. "I'll fight right-handed to begin with," she went on, "since that's the way most of your opponents will fight. But once we get to moving around more, I'll probably switch to my left hand, so I can use my crutch."

"Okay," Cyrelle said, and made a great flourish of drawing her sword from the scabbard at her waist. Then, apparently not satisfied with her effort, she thrust the weapon back into its sheath and drew it again.

Xena smiled, pulled out her own sword, and peered at the blade. "I guess we'll have to have a sword-polishing session," she said. "Mine looks a little neglected, too."

"Are you sure you still remember how to use it?" Cyrelle asked with a teasing grin.

"Oh, yes," Xena returned. "Sword-fighting is like breathing to me -- it's not the kind of thing I'm likely to forget." She grinned back at her daughter, and then limped over to stand in front of her. "Now," she said. "Hold your sword up, like this, so that you're ready to defend yourself. And always maintain eye contact. That way you can anticipate your opponent's moves."

She began making thrusts -- slowly at first, and then more quickly, offering words of encouragement and advice meanwhile. Cyrelle, although seemingly nervous at the start, still managed to block every thrust. And as the girl gradually relaxed, the speed and accuracy of her parrying began to make Xena wonder if the girl could somehow read her mind.

Shaking her head in admiration, Xena began to move around some, as she attempted to make her passes less predictable. "You're doing very well!" she exclaimed.

"Really? Can I try thrusting now?" And then, without waiting for permission, Cyrelle suddenly lunged forward with her sword.

Surprised, Xena parried instinctively, but stepping back with her right foot, she almost lost her balance in the process. Then, before she had quite recovered, Cyrelle came at her again, in a move the warrior managed to block a mere handsbreadth from her face.

With a self-conscious laugh, the girl backed away, and Xena slowly lowered her sword, staring at her daughter with narrowed eyes. "All right, who's been teaching you?" she demanded.

"What do you mean?" said Cyrelle. "This is my first lesson."

"No, it's not. You have a natural ability with weapons -- I'll grant you that -- but the move you just made wasn't something a beginner does by accident. Someone taught it to you. Now, who was it?"

"Nobody," Cyrelle said with a casual shrug. "Just a man I met."

"A man you met," Xena repeated, frowning. "Is it someone I know? Someone from Amphipolis?"

"I don't know if you know him or not," Cyrelle responded. "He said he's heard of you, though. He said you used to be one of the best warriors in Greece."

"Where did you meet him?"

"Kind of down there, by the river," the girl said, gesturing vaguely toward the south.

Xena considered for a moment, as a suspicion began to form in her mind. "What does this man look like?" she asked.

"Well, uh, he's tall and good-looking, and really strong, with a lot of muscles," Cyrelle said. "And he's got short, black hair, and a moustache, and a little beard, right here on his chin," she finished, demonstrating on her own face.

"Did he tell you his name?"

"He said to call him Atrius," Cyrelle replied. Then she asked, "Wasn't that your father's name? You never talk about him, so I couldn't remember for sure."

Xena nodded. "Yes, that was my father's name," she said, feeling suddenly very tired. Then she sheathed her sword, hobbled over to a nearby log, and sat down.

Cyrelle hesitated, then followed the warrior across the clearing. "What's wrong, Mother?" she asked. "Are you mad at me?"

"No. I just wish you had told me about meeting this man."

"Do you know who he is?"

"Yes," Xena said, shifting her gaze to look directly at her daughter. "But his name isn't Atrius. It's Ares."

"Ares! What would he be doing here? And why would he take an interest in me? I'm not even a warrior yet -- I'm just a young girl!"

"Yes, you're just a young girl, but Ares has a good reason for taking an interest in you," Xena said. Then she took a deep breath and went on. "He's your father, Cyrelle."

"My father!" the girl murmured in astonishment. "My father is the god of war?"

"Yes."

"But that means I'm--"

"You're a half god, just like Hercules."

"All my life I've been a demigod, and you never told me?"

"I wanted you to have a normal life, Sweetheart," Xena said. "I wanted you to think of yourself as an ordinary person, and for everyone else to think of you that way, too. If you don't believe it's hard growing up as the child of a god, just ask Hercules."

"But--" Cyrelle began, and then shook her head in confusion and looked away.

"Anyway," Xena went on when the girl remained quiet, "there's even the remote possibility that you're more than half god. Ares might be my father, too."

"You're kidding! How come I never heard that story?"

"Because I never let Gabrielle tell it to you and Lyceus," Xena said. "But ask her about the time the Furies cursed me with madness. Then you'll find out why I never talk about my father."

Cyrelle stood staring at the ground, and after a few moments, she began poking at a half-buried stick with her sword.

"What else do you want to know?" Xena asked quietly. "I'll do my best to answer all your questions."

The girl looked at her, then turned and walked away a few steps. She stabbed her blade into the ground several more times, and then faced back toward Xena. "Why would you sleep with your own father?" she demanded.

"I don't know that he's my father," Xena said. "It's just a possibility I thought you should be aware of. And anyway, as you know, the gods don't care much whether the people they sleep with are related to them or not. Look at Zeus and Hera."

"They're brother and sister."

"Yes, and several of Zeus' children have been known to pair up -- think about Aphrodite and Hephaestus, or Aphrodite and Ares."

"Okay, you're right. But why would you sleep with Ares if you've always hated him so much?"

Xena nodded. "Now we come to the important questions," she said. Then she patted the log beside her. "Why don't you come over here and sit down," she suggested.

The girl hesitated, then walked over and perched reluctantly on the log.

"Remember I told you I almost killed myself after I found out I couldn't be a warrior anymore?" Xena said.

"Yeah."

"Well, I was holding the dagger at my heart, all ready to stab myself, and Ares stopped me."

"Why did he stop you?"

"He said he could heal my leg, so I could go on being a warrior. But I thought that, in exchange, he would want me to come back and lead his army, so I told him I'd rather die." She stopped and looked at Cyrelle, who was now drawing lines in the dirt with the point of her sword. "It turned out he wanted something different, though," Xena continued. "He wanted me to give him a daughter."

"Which you did," the girl said flatly.

Xena sighed and closed her eyes for a moment, remembering. "Maybe I made the wrong decision," she said softly, "but I was so vulnerable in that moment -- so desperate to go on living life as a warrior -- that I agreed to do what Ares wanted."

"Then why didn't he heal your leg?"

"Because I went back on part of the deal. I was supposed to give you to Ares to raise, but Gabrielle convinced me I couldn't do that. I kept you so that we could bring you up ourselves, and teach you--"

Cyrelle jumped up and whirled around to face Xena. "Ares wanted to raise me himself?" she exclaimed.

"Yes."

"Then he really does care about me!"

Xena reached out to grasp one of her daughter's hands. "Not in the way you mean, Cyrelle," she said quietly. "Ares will never love you. He only cares about having you lead his army."

"Is that what he wants from me?" Cyrelle asked in a tone of wonder. "Wow! That is so amazing!" She pulled her hand loose from Xena's, and grasping her sword two-handed, slashed at an overhanging branch.

Leaves and twigs rained down around them, and Xena couldn't help shuddering. "Put that sword away before you hurt someone," she ordered.

The girl stared at her in surprise for a moment before reluctantly sheathing her blade.

"Fighting for Ares is not the glamorous adventure you think it is," Xena said. "He'll tell you you're bringing peace and order to the world, but it's still nothing but dirty, ugly warfare. You'll be slaughtering innocent people, burning down their homes, and destroying their whole way of life." She stopped speaking, stood up, and put her hands on her daughter's shoulders. Leaning close, she waited until the girl's gaze met her own, and then she went on. "I've lived that life. I know every horrible thing about it. And it was because I wanted to save you from the same fate that I gave up being a warrior, and chose to live the rest of my life as a cripple. I did that for you, Cyrelle. I did it because I love you. Can you understand that?"

The girl nodded.

"And remember," Xena went on. "You promised me you would fight for good and not for evil. If you fight for Ares, I can assure you that you will be fighting for evil -- no matter what he calls it."

Cyrelle looked at her without responding.

"Am I making myself clear?" Xena asked, giving the girl's shoulders a shake.

"Yes."

"Good," the warrior said, and released her hold.

"Are you going to tell me not to see him?" asked Cyrelle.

"It wouldn't do any good, would it?"

"No."

"That's what I thought," Xena said. She sighed and glanced up at the sun, then moved over to the tree where she had left her crutch. Turning back to the girl, she said, "Just remember that you can't trust him, Sweetheart. Ares will lie and cheat and do anything to get his way. He wants to use you for his own purposes, and you have to tell him no. You have to be strong and resist all his seductive talk and charming little offers. Do you think you can do that?"

"Yeah, I can do that."

Xena went over to Cyrelle and laid a gentle hand her cheek. "I know you can," she said. "I believe in you."

"Mother?"

"What?"

"Will you still give me sword-fighting lessons?"

"I thought maybe you'd rather learn from your father -- now that you know who he is."

"I want to learn from both of you," the girl said softly.

Xena smiled, touched by her daughter's words. "All right, then. We're out of time now, but we can have another lesson tomorrow." She turned and started toward the road, but when she realized that Cyrelle wasn't following, she stopped and looked back. "Are you coming with me," she asked, "or do you want to go talk to Ares?"

The girl looked first southward and then back toward the town. She hesitated for several moments, and then said, "I'll come with you. I can talk to Ares later."

The two of them crossed the field to the road, neither speaking until Cyrelle asked abruptly, "Can I tell people? About Ares' being my father, I mean?"

Xena considered briefly and then said, "I'll leave that up to you. But keep in mind that people may look at you very differently once they know you're the daughter of a god. They may expect things of you that they didn't expect before."

"You mean like miracles or something?"

"Maybe. People get very strange notions sometimes."

"So would it be better not to tell them?"

"Why don't you wait a few days before you decide," Xena suggested. "That way you'll have time to get used to the idea yourself."

"Can I tell Lyceus?"

"Yes, of course. But if you want him to keep it a secret, you need to tell him so."

"Okay," the girl said, nodding. "Wow, I can hardly wait to tell him! Can't you walk a little faster?" she urged.

"No, Cyrelle, you know I can't," Xena said with a sad smile. "But if you're in a hurry, why don't you run on ahead. I think I can find the way back by myself." Her smile widened to a grin, as she patted her daughter on the back.

"Well, if you don't mind, I think I'll do that," returned the girl as she quickened her pace. "I'll see you later!" Then she set off running toward the city gate, covering ground in easy, long-legged strides.

Xena watched her with an ache in her heart, thinking how lithe and beautiful the girl was -- yet how inexperienced and naive. Could Cyrelle really say no to Ares? Even Xena herself had been unable to do so in that one moment of desperation and weakness. She sighed, aware of the weight of fear that sat like a stone in her gut. Toris was gone already -- possibly lost to her forever -- and now she risked losing Cyrelle, too. Xena liked to think that she could control her own destiny, and that others could do the same, but was it true? Or did the Fates sit forever amusing themselves by weaving each mortal's lifethread into some hopelessly tangled pattern before they snipped it off completely?

* * * * *

There were people waiting at her hut when she got there -- a man complaining of a cough that kept him awake at night, and a woman whose baby suffered from diarrhea. Xena dispensed herbs and advice, accepting in return the few meager coins her clients offered. When they had gone, the healer wandered out into the quiet courtyard and sat down on the bench beside the back door. Leaning her head back against the wall, she closed her eyes and listened to the bees buzzing lazily in the late afternoon. From the direction of the fig tree came a flutter of wings and a soft chirping, while out in the street, she could hear children shouting to each other as they ran past.

Xena drew a deep breath of the herb-scented air, and tried to let herself relax. But just as she felt her tension begin to ease, she suddenly became aware of an odd, tingling sensation along the back of her neck. There could be no mistaking what the feeling meant, even though she had not experienced it for many years. Opening her eyes, she sat up and quickly surveyed the courtyard. It appeared that she was alone, but she knew that she was not. "Show yourself, Ares!" she called out.

He materialized near the fig tree and strolled toward her, one hand resting casually on the hilt of his enormous sword. "Well, I've got to hand it to you, Xena," he said. "You've done an excellent job of raising our daughter." He stopped a couple of paces away from her and smiled. "Oh, there are a few things I would have done differently, of course. The weapons training, for one thing. I would have started that years ago. But the girl's a quick study, and she'll soon make up for lost time."

Xena raised one eyebrow cynically, but otherwise made no response.

"Mmm-hmm," Ares went on, "and now she even knows who her daddy is. Well, it's about time, if you ask me."

"Nobody asked you," Xena commented dryly.

Ares laughed and moved closer. "Just as witty as ever, aren't you, my dear? And may I say," he added as he reached out to lift a tress of her long, gray hair from her shoulder, "that you're aging beautifully."

"Just like fine wine," she said, snatching her hair out of his grasp. "Is there some point to this little visit?" she asked then.

"Well, I actually thought you might be glad to see me after all this time."

"If that's what you thought, maybe you'd better think again."

He laughed. "All right then. I guess I mostly came to say thank you for Cyrelle -- my soon-to-be Warrior Queen."

Xena glared at him. "Cyrelle will never be your Warrior Queen," she growled.

He bent over her abruptly, grabbing her chin and forcing her face up to meet his own. "Oh yes, she will," he returned, "because that's what she was born to be."

Xena felt the heat of his breath on her face even as she stared into the cold depths of his eyes. Her throat tightened, making it difficult to breathe, and impossible to speak. Using both hands, she pried his fingers loose from her chin and pushed his hand away.

"Cyrelle is learning to use a sword so that she can help defend Amphipolis," Xena said. "It has nothing to do with fighting for you."

Ares straightened up, and his laughter rang loudly in the confines of the courtyard. "Why do you think Amphipolis is being attacked?" he asked. "Who could possibly have put the idea into Demetri's head and helped him train his army?"

"Demetri is your flunky?" Xena asked in amazement.

"Let's just say I'm using him to accomplish certain purposes. After all, I had to do something to get Cyrelle's military career off and running." He grinned. "She already had all the desire it takes to be a warrior, but poor girl, her mother just wouldn't let her be one. Which meant that Daddy had to step in and help out."

Xena sprang to her feet. "You conniving bastard!" she exclaimed, drawing back her hand to slap him. "How dare you--"

He caught her wrist in a bone-crushing grip. "You're a fool, Xena," he said in a low voice. "A fool and a loser. You already lost the chance to have your leg healed, and now you're going to lose your daughter, too."

"No," Xena whispered. "I won't lose her."

Ares tightened his grip and yanked her up against him. "Oh yes, you will," he asserted. "Because she was born to fight for me, and that's exactly what she's going to do. It's her destiny, and I'm going to make certain it's fulfilled."

"Don't, Ares," she pleaded. "Don't take her away from me. I love her, and that's something you can never do."

"Love!" he scoffed. "Cyrelle doesn't care about love. She craves excitement and danger and glory and fame -- all the wonderful things that I know how to give her." He looked at Xena for a long moment before releasing his hold on her arm. "I wish I could feel sorry for you, my dear," he said, "I really do. But pity just isn't my style."

She stood there silent, feeling her body tremble. Then she watched as, with a casual gesture of farewell, he turned and walked away from her, disappearing before he reached the gate.

CHAPTER 13

Gabrielle knelt at the edge of the well in the tavern courtyard. Shoving the heavy wooden cover aside, she picked up a rope and tied it to the handle of the clay jug she had brought out from the kitchen. Then she lowered the jug into the well and waited for it to fill. When it had, she hauled it up again, untied the rope, and lifted the dripping jug to her mouth for a long drink of the cool water. Wiping her chin with her forearm, she stood up and checked the sun's position. The heat of the day still lingered, although the west wall's shadow now covered about a third of the courtyard. With a sigh, Gabrielle started to pick up the jug, but the sound of the back door slamming made her straighten up and look in that direction.

Cyrelle came jogging toward her, looking eager and somewhat out of breath. The girl had probably been running, Gabrielle surmised, or maybe she was just excited about something.

"Guess what!" Cyrelle exclaimed in a low voice. "Xena told me! I know who my father is!"

Gabrielle scanned the girl's face, then asked, "Were you surprised?"

"Yeah, I was! I never dreamed that it was Ares, or that I was a half god, but I am! It's pretty amazing, isn't it?" She looked quickly around the courtyard, and before Gabrielle could respond, said, "Where's Lyceus? He's never going to believe this!"

"Lyceus wanted to take Argo out for some exercise, so I sent him down to Eion with a message for Joxer and Lila, warning them about Demetri."

"You sent the message to Eion?" Cyrelle asked. Then she quickly added, "Oh, so it can go by ship to Poteidaia?"

"Right. The wharfmaster will give the message to the next ship's captain who's stopping at Poteidaia. I've sent messages that way several times before."

"So Lyceus won't be back for a while, will he?" Cyrelle asked, sounding disappointed.

"Actually, he's been gone a couple of hours, so I expect him back any time now."

The girl nodded and glanced hopefully toward the opening to the courtyard. Then she looked at the water jug. "Can I have a drink?" she asked.

"Yes, of course," Gabrielle said, picking up the heavy jug and handing it to her.

Cyrelle drank deeply, then set the jug down and wiped her mouth with her hand.

"What else did your mother tell you?" asked Gabrielle.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean did she explain how Ares came to be your father?"

"Oh. Yeah. It was because she wanted him to heal her leg."

"Right. And did she also tell you that she gave up the chance to have her leg healed, just so she could keep you and raise you herself?"

"Uh-huh. Because she didn't want my father to have me, even though he wanted me. But he must care about me, right? Otherwise he wouldn't have wanted to raise me himself."

"No, Cyrelle, I'm afraid he doesn't care about you -- not in the way a father should," Gabrielle said in a gentle tone. "Ares is the god of war. All he really cares about is battles and bloodshed. He might try to make you think that he loves you, but he never can. I'm sorry, Sweetheart, but you're going to have to accept that."

"You sound just like Xena."

"That's because Xena and I have both had experience with Ares. We know exactly how selfish and devious he can be, and we've been tricked by him before. So that's why we're trying to warn you, because someday he may come around here and--"

"He's already come around. I already met him."

Gabrielle stared at the girl in astonishment. "You met him? When?"

She shrugged. "Several days ago. Ten or twelve, maybe. Except I didn't realize it was Ares. He told me his name was Atrius. He's been teaching me to fight with a sword."

"Does your mother know this?"

"Yeah," Cyrelle said. "She figured out that somebody had been teaching me, and then when I told her about this man I met, she said he was Ares, and that he was my father."

Gabrielle was silent for a few moments, trying to imagine how the session between Xena and her daughter must have gone. Then, gesturing toward the weapon the girl was wearing, she asked, "Where did you get that sword? Did Ares give it to you?"

"This old thing?" scoffed Cyrelle. "No. Mother gave it to me. It was my Uncle Lyceus' sword." She pulled it partway out of the scabbard. "It's all tarnished and yucky-looking. See?"

"Yes, I see that," Gabrielle said, bending to look more closely at the blade. "But all it needs is a little polishing. The important thing about that sword is not how it looks, but what it means."

The girl looked at her blankly as she shoved the weapon back into its sheath.

"You know that Xena loved her brother very much, don't you?" the bard went on.

"Uh-huh."

"Well, that's why this sword has so much meaning for her. And that's why she gave it to you -- because she loves you very much, just like she loved Lyceus."

Cyrelle sighed and scuffed at the ground with the toe of one sandal. "I'd rather have a new sword," she muttered.

Gabrielle watched her for a moment and then reached out to lay a firm hand on the girl's shoulder. "Your mother made a huge sacrifice for you, Cyrelle, and I want to make sure you understand that," she said, tightening her grip. "Do you know what it means to make a sacrifice? Tell me."

"It means giving up something," Cyrelle responded in a reluctant tone.

"Exactly. And what your mother gave up was her whole way of life -- the only kind of life she knew. She gave up being a warrior. And she gave it up rather than giving you up to Ares, because she didn't want you to become the kind of murderer he wants you to be." Then she shook Cyrelle's shoulder and asked, "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

The girl looked at her. "Yeah," she muttered, and then looked away again.

"Okay, good," Gabrielle said, releasing her hold. "I don't mean to lecture you, Cyrelle, but I want to make sure you understand my point, which is--"

"Oh! There's Lyceus!" Cyrelle exclaimed, turning toward the opening to the courtyard.

Gabrielle stopped speaking, and in the silence, became aware of the sound of a horse's hooves. Following Cyrelle's gaze, she saw Lyceus come riding around the north end of the tavern.

The boy grinned and waved at them, then swung down from the saddle and led Argo forward.

"Lyceus, you're never going to believe this!" Cyrelle said, hurrying toward him. "I found out who my father is!"

"You did?" he responded in surprise. "How'd you find out?"

"Xena told me. Want to know who it is?" the girl asked, and when Lyceus nodded, she announced in a dramatic whisper, "It's Ares!"

"Ares? You mean Ares, the god of war?"

"Yes, of course, you silly boy!" Cyrelle exclaimed, punching him playfully on the arm. "Do you know of anybody else named Ares?"

"No, I don't," he admitted. "I just never expected it to be Ares. Did you?"

"Not in my wildest dreams! But you know what this means, don't you?" the girl went on in a confidential tone. "It means I'm a demigod -- just like Hercules!"

Lyceus looked at her for a moment, and then began to chuckle. "Well, don't expect me to build you a shrine or anything like that," he said.

"Okay," Cyrelle agreed as she joined in his laughter. "But if you wanted to bring me an offering every now and then, I wouldn't refuse it."

"Right. Well, don't hold your breath," Lyceus said, grinning and shaking his head. Then, as Argo strained toward the water trough, he turned his attention to her.

Gabrielle smiled, watching him check the mare to make sure she was cool enough before he slipped the bit out of her mouth and let her drink. What a responsible young man he was growing up to be, she mused. And leave it to him to keep Cyrelle from taking herself too seriously.

"I don't understand, though," Lyceus said after a moment, glancing first at Gabrielle and then at Cyrelle. "Why would Xena choose to have Ares' child? I thought he was her enemy."

"Oh, well, here's what happened," Cyrelle said eagerly. Then she launched into a description of the deal her mother had made with Ares.

But Gabrielle had stopped listening, aware of a sudden urge to go home and find out how Xena was reacting to all of this. Picking up the water jug, the bard turned just in time to see a figure disappear from the kitchen doorway. It was Acantha -- she was almost certain of it. And if Acantha had overheard Cyrelle's talk about Ares, then the news would be all over town by morning.

With a sigh, Gabrielle went into the kitchen and set her jug on the table.

Acantha rushed over and grabbed her by the arm. "Is it true?" she demanded excitedly. "Is Ares Cyrelle's father?"

"Yes, it's true."

She nodded, as she let go of Gabrielle and moved around the end of the table. "Do you know," she said, "that Toris and I used to lie in bed sometimes at night and try to guess who Cyrelle's father was? I even told him once, I said, 'Knowing your sister, it might even be some god. It might be Ares himself!' That's exactly what I said, but of course Toris wouldn't believe me." She gave a heavy sigh. "I just wish he were here now, so I could tell him I was right."

"Well, he'll be back soon, and then you can tell him."

"Yeah. If he comes back," Acantha said gloomily. "But anyway, I guess we know now why Cyrelle always gets into fights. She must take after her father in that way."

"Yes, she probably does," the bard admitted. Then she said, "Listen, Acantha, I need to go home and talk to Xena for a few minutes."

"Does she have special powers?" asked Acantha.

"Who? Xena?" Gabrielle said, blushing a little as she thought of the previous night's lovemaking.

"Not Xena. Cyrelle," the other woman said impatiently. "We were talking about Cyrelle."

"Oh, right. Well, she's always been good at physical stuff, like jumping and doing flips. And she seems to be good with weapons, too. Or at least that's what Xena says."

"Nothing useful though, like maybe turning water into wine?"

Gabrielle laughed. "No, not that I know of," she said. "But that would be a handy skill to have in a tavern, wouldn't it?"

"Yes, indeed," Acantha agreed. "Maybe she could do it if she tried."

"Well, you can suggest it to her," Gabrielle said, wondering if Acantha was really serious. "Meanwhile, I'm going to run home and--"

"It's no wonder Xena kept it a secret all these years. I mean about Ares," Acantha said. Then she picked up the water jug and emptied it into a pot sitting near the fireplace.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we all thought Xena had reformed and was fighting for good, but the whole time she was still consorting with that warmonger, Ares."

"That's not how it was, Acantha," Gabrielle said trying to keep from sounding as irritated as she felt. "What happened was that when Xena couldn't be a warrior anymore, she decided to kill herself, but Ares stopped her. He promised to heal her leg if she would give him a daughter."

"And she agreed to that."

"Yes, but later she realized she couldn't let her child have that kind of life. So she kept Cyrelle, even though it meant her leg would never be healed."

"Huh! Well, that was quite a sacrifice," Acantha said, seemingly impressed.

"Yeah, it was. I just hope Cyrelle can see it that way." Gabrielle turned and started toward the door. "I won't be gone very long," she called back over her shoulder.

"Good, because there's a lot still to be done here, and not many people to do it."

"I know. I won't be gone long," Gabrielle repeated, then hurried through the tavern room and out into the street.

* * * * *

"Xena?" she called as she entered the house. There was no answer, but the door to the courtyard stood open, and Gabrielle headed in that direction. Pausing on the threshold, she was surprised to see the older woman sitting on the bench by the door, head in her hands. "Xena, are you all right?" she asked.

The warrior looked up, pushing the hair back from her face and giving a wan smile. "Yeah, I'm fine," she said. Then she held out a hand to Gabrielle. "Come sit with me," she invited.

The bard took her lover's hand and held it firmly in her own as she sat down. "Cyrelle told me that she had already met Ares," Gabrielle said. "That must have been a surprise for you."

"Yeah, it was, in a way. But I guess we always knew he would come back for her," Xena said in a voice that sounded tired. "Maybe we should have warned her years ago."

"Maybe so," Gabrielle agreed, "but I think she's going to be harder than ever to live with, now that she knows she's a half god." She paused, then suddenly grinned and added, "Oh, but it was so funny -- when Cyrelle told Lyceus she was a demigod, he just said, 'Well, don't expect me to build you a shrine'! Don't you think that's funny?"

Xena nodded and smiled a little, then asked. "Did she tell anyone besides Lyceus?"

"No. At least not while I was there. But Acantha overheard the whole thing, so now she knows, too."

"Then Cyrelle might as well have announced it to the whole town."

"Yeah, but I guess we can't really expect her to keep a thing like this a secret," Gabrielle said. "Not when she's gone her whole life without knowing who her father was."

"Actually, if everybody knows who Cyrelle's father is, I might be able to use that to my advantage," the warrior said thoughtfully.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, it's just an idea I had. I'll tell you later, when I've had time to think it through."

"Okay."

Xena looked at her for a moment, and then looked away. "Ares was here," she said.

"Here? At the house, you mean?"

"Right here in the courtyard. If you had come a few minutes earlier, you would have seen him yourself."

"What did he want?"

"Mostly to remind me that Cyrelle is destined to be his Warrior Queen."

"Right. Well, that's what he said when she was born, too, but we've spent the last sixteen years teaching her that she can make her own destiny."

Xena sighed, but said nothing.

"That's what you told him, isn't it?" Gabrielle asked.

"Yes, but--" She stopped and took a deep breath. "It turns out this whole business with Demetri is Ares' work."

"You're kidding! So Ares is on Demetri's side? We have to fight him, too?"

"No, I don't think that's the way it works. Ares talked like he was just using Demetri to create a situation that would force me to let Cyrelle become a warrior. I think Ares will back whichever side Cyrelle is on."

"That's good, then, because she'll be fighting for Amphipolis."

"Yes. Or at least I hope so."

Gabrielle frowned. "Surely she wouldn't fight against her own town, would she?"

"No, I don't think so. It's just that if Ares makes her some kind of offer -- which he's sure to do -- I'm afraid she won't be able to say no to him."

"Of course, she will! Xena, Cyrelle loves this town. She loves her family, and she loves you most of all -- whether she admits it or not. And now that she knows what kind of sacrifice you made for her--"

"Oh, come on, Gabrielle, be realistic! Cyrelle doesn't care a fig about my sacrifice. All she cares about is finally having found out who her father is. And that guess what, he's a god!"

"Sure, but once she gets to know him, she'll find out Ares is just using her, and that he can't be trusted."

"Yes, but it could take her years to figure that out," Xena said, "and by then it might be too late."

"Well, we'll just have to speed up the process," Gabrielle said stoutly. "We'll have to force Cyrelle to see Ares for who he really is."

"And just how are we going to do that?"

"We'll think of something. Maybe I can tell her some more stories -- some of the ones she hasn't heard yet."

Xena was silent for a few moments, apparently pondering this. Then she turned to Gabrielle and said, "Are you still doing the bard thing tonight at the tavern?"

"Yes."

"Tell the story about how the Furies cursed me with madness. I want Cyrelle to hear that one."

"Uh, well, okay," Gabrielle said uncertainly, "but Cyrelle might not even be there, since she doesn't have to work tonight."

"Oh. I forgot about that."

"And besides, do you really want the whole town to know that your mother killed your father? We've kind of kept that part quiet until now."

"Hmm. Good point."

"I'll be glad to tell Cyrelle the story in private sometime. Don't you think that would be better?"

"Yeah, you're right," Xena admitted. "That would be better. And I also want her to hear about the time Ares disguised himself as my father. You could tell that story at the tavern, couldn't you?"

"I don't see why not," Gabrielle said. "I'll tell it tonight, if Cyrelle is around. Otherwise, I'll tell some of my old standards."

"Okay, thanks," the warrior said, squeezing Gabrielle's hand before releasing it. "You probably need to get back there," she went on, "and I need to eat some supper before I go meet with the town council at sundown. Maphias gave me a nice, big piece of smoked venison, by the way."

"Mmm. I wish I could stay here and help you eat it, but Acantha will have my head if I don't get back soon."

"That's what I suspected," Xena said with a smile, and then stood up.

Gabrielle rose, too, and before the warrior could reach for her crutch, wrapped both arms around her. Xena seemed surprised, but hesitated only a moment before letting her body relax against the bard's as she returned the embrace. Gabrielle buried her face against her lover's chest, enjoying Xena's warm scent and the familiar sound of her heartbeat.

Several long moments passed in comfortable silence, and then Xena said, "You know, I've been sitting here wondering if I did this whole thing wrong."

"What whole thing?"

"The thing with Cyrelle." She pulled back a little, so that Gabrielle could look up and see her face. "Maybe I should have let Ares go ahead and take her, and heal my leg," Xena said. "And then when she grew up and became a warrior, I could have tried to reform her, the way Hercules did with me."

Gabrielle shook her head. "I don't think that would have worked," she said. "If you'd done it that way, you would have probably ended up having to fight her and, well--"

"She would have beat me."

"No, I didn't mean that. I meant that you wouldn't want to fight your own daughter, would you?"

"Not really."

"Well then, we did it the best way we could. We've had the joy of seeing her grow up, and we can battle Ares using love, not a sword."

"And you really think that will work?" Xena asked.

Gabrielle looked into her lover's eyes, smiled, and said, "Yes, I really think so."

Xena nodded. "Good," she said. "I just hope you're right." Then she pulled the bard close in another embrace.

CHAPTER 14

Word spread quickly through Amphipolis about Demetri's planned attack, and soon people began appearing on Xena's doorstep, volunteering to help defend the town. They brought with them all kinds of weapons -- pitchforks, axes, bows, and rusty old swords that had been in their families for generations. Xena started holding sword-fighting classes every morning, and in the afternoons, she coached Cyrelle. Gabrielle, meanwhile, taught staff-fighting techniques to Lyceus, Cyrelle, and anyone else who wanted to learn. The archery range, where Sandros and Seth were giving lessons, had become a popular place, and Xena encouraged everyone who could use a sling to gather stones and get busy practicing their aim.

The days passed in a blur of activity and preparations. Xena went to bed exhausted each night, but often found herself unable to sleep. Instead, she lay awake in the darkness, worrying sometimes about Toris, and other times about Cyrelle. The girl was spending time with Ares every day, Xena knew, but she did not know what manner of discussion was taking place between father and daughter. She could only hope that the girl would be wise enough not to be seduced by Ares' illogical reasoning.

On the third evening after Toris left, Xena went to the tavern to get some supper, and found Cyrelle in the kitchen, flourishing a large, gleaming sword for the admiration of Lyceus, Gabrielle, and Acantha.

"Where did you get that?" the warrior demanded.

"From my father," the girl returned smugly.

"What about the sword I gave you?"

"It's right here on the table, but I don't need it anymore now that I've got this new one."

Xena moved forward, her crutch thumping loudly on the wooden floor, and snatched up the old sword.

"Is that the one that belonged to Uncle Lyceus?" the younger Lyceus asked. "I'd like to have it, if Cyrelle doesn't want it."

Surprised, Xena looked first at the boy and then at his mother.

"I don't want you using a sword," Gabrielle said quickly.

"Oh, I'm not planning to use it," Lyceus said. "I'd just like to have it because it was my uncle's. I mean, since I was named for him and everything."

"All right," Xena said with a sad smile, as she handed the weapon to Lyceus. "I'm glad there's one person around here who cares about such things, anyway." Then she turned around and started back toward the door.

"Xena, where are you going?" Gabrielle asked. "Don't you want some supper?"

"No, I've lost my appetite," the warrior said without stopping.

It was the next day before Xena could bring herself to examine Cyrelle's new sword. It was a beautiful weapon, by any standard -- there was no denying that. And the girl used it well, too. She was definitely making rapid progress, in terms of acquiring warrior skills.

"Mother," Cyrelle said a bit hesitantly, "will you teach me to throw your chakram?"

"No. Absolutely not."

"Why not?"

"Because it's a weapon that's unique to me, and I want to keep it that way. You can have it when I'm dead," Xena went on, and then added, with a note of sarcasm, "I'm sure your father can teach you to throw it."

"Don't do this, Mother."

"Don't do what?"

"Don't make me choose between you and Ares. He doesn't seem like such a terrible person. Can't you just try to get along with him?"

"No, I can't, Cyrelle," Xena said. "Ares represents a way of life I don't believe in anymore -- a life of war and pillage and destruction. He and I don't see the world in the same way, and we will never be able to just 'get along.'"

"But he says he's fighting for peace."

"Yes, I know that's what he says, but his methods are ruthless and violent. He doesn't really care about mortals, or about making their lives happier -- not the way Hercules does. If you want an example of how a god or a demigod should live, then look at Hercules, not at Ares."

Cyrelle frowned, but said nothing. Xena watched her for a few moments, then asked, "What else has your father been telling you?"

"Not much. Just that he's trying to make a better world, and he needs me to help him."

"He only wants to use you, Cyrelle, so you've got to be very careful. You can't agree to help him, no matter what he asks you to do." She hesitated for a moment, and then went on in a gentler tone. "You know, I'm always here to listen, I mean, if you ever have questions or want to talk about Ares."

"Sure," Cyrelle said sarcastically, "and then you'll just tell me that Ares is bad and he can't be trusted. That's all you ever say about him. You can't admit that he could have a good side, or that he might actually care about anybody or anything." The girl paused just long enough to take a breath, and then went on in an increasingly heated tone. "The fact is, you've totally closed your mind to Ares, and you can't possibly be objective about anything he says or does, so why should I want to talk to you about him?"

Xena stared at her daughter, unable to think how to respond. "I'm sorry, Sweetheart," she said finally. "I know you want to love him because he's your father, but I've had experience with him, and I'm just trying to--"

"Save it. I don't want to hear another word," Cyrelle said in a harsh tone. And sheathing her sword, she turned abruptly and stalked away.

* * * * *

One morning four days later, Xena was sweeping the floor of her hut when the sound of a galloping horse caught her ear. The hoofbeats stopped outside her door, and a man's voice called derisively, "Xena, Warrior Princess! Come out of your hiding place!"

The sudden sinking feeling in her gut told Xena that this was the moment she had been dreading ever since Toris left town. Setting down her broom and taking up her crutch, she threw open the door and stepped out into the street.

A dark-skinned man in leather armor sat astride a bay horse that stamped and shifted restlessly in the dust-filled sunlight. Out of the corner of her eye, Xena saw Gabrielle, Acantha, Cyrelle, and Lyceus hurrying from the tavern, and guessed that the man had stopped there to ask where to find her.

"Are you Xena?" he demanded.

"Yes," she said. "Who are you, and what do you want?"

"I bring a message from Demetri," he replied, holding up a black cloth bag and then tossing it in her direction.

The bag landed with a sickening thud at her feet, and she regarded it for a long moment, knowing, and yet not wanting to know, what it contained. Then, slowly, she bent to pick it up. The fabric was stiff with dried blood, and the stench sent a wave of nausea through her. Holding her breath, she pried the drawstring loose and peered inside. She looked only long enough to see what she needed to see -- the dark, curling hair, the gray, rotting flesh of the face. Then, taking care to keep her own features expressionless, she closed the bag again.

Gabrielle edged a few paces closer. "What is it, Xena?" she asked.

The warrior looked at her and then at the others, noting that several neighbors and curious passersby had joined the group of spectators. "It's Toris' head," she told them.

Gabrielle gasped, as did several others. Lyceus and Cyrelle stood stunned and unmoving. Acantha gave a strangled cry, and then she collapsed in a dead faint. There was a flurry of activity as people ran to the fallen woman. But ignoring it all, Xena carefully set the bag on the ground and walked forward until she was only a pace away from the mounted soldier. "What is the message?" she asked.

"The message," he replied with a smirk, "is that Demetri will not be intimidated by the tactics of a crippled, has-been warrior princess. He's on his way right now to conquer Amphipolis, and anyone who resists will meet the same fate as your foolish brother there," he finished, nodding toward the bag.

"I see," Xena said, keeping her voice calm even while she imagined Toris' being tortured into revealing that she was his sister. "Is that the whole message?" she asked.

"Yes, that's it," the man said, lifting his reins. "So until we meet again--"

"Not so fast, my friend," she interrupted. And in one swift movement, she swung her crutch up and struck him across the chest. As he reeled backwards, Xena dropped her makeshift weapon, grabbed him with both hands, and dragged him out of the saddle. His startled horse skittered away, stopping only for a moment to look back before trotting off toward the northwest gate.

Xena forced the messenger to his knees just as Cyrelle came rushing up, drawing her sword as she ran.

"Let me!" the girl cried. "Let me cut off his head!"

"No!" Xena said quickly. "We don't need his head. We need information." She hit the pressure points on either side of his neck, and his eyes bulged out in sudden disbelief and fear.

"I've cut off the flow of blood to your brain," Xena informed him. "Tell us what we want to know, and you'll live to see another day."

The messenger gave a frantic nod, and Xena bent down close to him. "How many men does Demetri have?" she asked.

"A hundred fifty. No, more. A hundred seventy-five."

"How many of those are mounted?"

"Fifty or sixty, I guess."

Xena nodded. "Does the cavalry travel with the foot soldiers, or ahead?"

"Together," he said, as he began to gasp for air. "Travel together. Scouts ahead."

"Does Demetri have any artillery? Catapults? Anything like that?"

"No. Just supply wagons."

"Good. And where was the army when you left it?" Xena asked.

"Crossing the Axios River."

"Are they coming straight to Amphipolis, or are they stopping to conquer other towns along the way?"

"Straight . . . to . . ." he choked out.

"Just one more question," Xena said hastily. "How many days do you estimate it will take them to get here?"

"Days?" he said, looking at her with eyes that were rapidly losing their focus.

"Yes. How many days before they get here?"

"Six?" he murmured. "Seven?"

"Thank you. You've been very helpful," Xena said, positioning her hands to release the pinch.

"Wait! I want to ask something!" exclaimed Cyrelle.

"Be very quick about it," Xena said.

The girl nodded and brought her face down close to the man's. "Did you cut off Toris' head?" she demanded.

His lips moved, but no sound came out. Xena hit the pressure points just as his eyes began to roll back. He slumped forward, drawing in great, ragged breaths.

Cyrelle reached down and grabbed him by the throat, forcing him back up. "Answer me!" she said. "Did you kill my uncle?"

"Your uncle?" he said, looking in confusion first at Cyrelle and then at Xena.

"Yes, my uncle. Toris," she said, slapping him hard across the face. "Did you kill him?"

Xena put a hand on the girl's arm in warning.

"No, I didn't kill him," the man said, shaking his head. "I was just sent to deliver the message!"

"Who did kill him?" Cyrelle persisted.

"I don't know for sure. Demetri ordered it, so one of his lieutenants must have done it. But I don't know which one."

"What are the lieutenants' names?" asked the girl, tightening her grip on his throat.

"Titos and Altair," the man gasped, looking at Cyrelle with something akin to terror in his eyes. "They're the ones who did it," he went on. "I never laid a hand on him! You've got to believe me!"

"Let him go, Cyrelle," Xena said quietly.

The girl looked at her. "Shouldn't we kill him?" she asked.

"No. We've got the information we need, and I don't think he's the one who killed Toris. Besides," she added, "I want him to take a message back to Demetri."

Cyrelle reluctantly released the prisoner.

"What message?" the man asked, rubbing his throat and giving Xena a look of gratitude.

"You tell Demetri that I may be a crippled, has-been warrior princess, but I still know a thing or two about fighting. I'm prepared to defend this town to my dying breath, and the same goes for every man, woman, and child here. So if Demetri has any sense at all, he'll leave Amphipolis alone. You tell him that."

"I'll tell him."

"Good," Xena said, and reached out a hand to pull him to his feet. "Your horse left town through the gate over there, and I suggest you do the same."

He looked in the direction she was pointing, nodded and stumbled away, still rubbing his neck.

Cyrelle picked up Xena's crutch and handed it to her. "Will you teach me that pressure point stuff?" she asked. "It looks pretty useful."

"Yes, I'll teach you," Xena said, "but right now we have other things to do."

"Okay," the girl agreed. "Hey, did you see Acantha faint? One minute she was standing there, and the next--"

"Cyrelle," Xena cut in, "could you please take that bag, and put it--" she stopped, trying to think what to do with something that deserved honor, yet smelled so disgusting. "Put it in the courtyard, I guess -- maybe under the fig tree."

"All right," Cyrelle said, hurrying over and crouching down beside the bag.

"Be gentle with it," Xena cautioned her, and then moved toward the door of the house. There were several people milling around there, but Gabrielle, Acantha, and Lyceus were not among them, so Xena assumed they must have gone inside.

An old stonemason who lived nearby approached her. "Who did this terrible thing?" he asked. "Who cut off your brother's head? And why?"

Xena sighed. The whole town was going to want to know -- deserved to know -- but she didn't really feel like talking about it, at least not at the moment. "Demetri's men did it," she said, "when Toris tried to deliver a message." She put a hand on the man's shoulder. "Tell everyone to come to the tavern at sundown tonight," she went on. "I'll explain everything then, and we can talk about our defense plans for Amphipolis."

The man nodded. "All right," he said. "I'll get some people to help me, and we'll start spreading the word."

"Thank you," Xena said. Then she went inside the house. There were six or eight women there, several weeping audibly as they hovered around Acantha, who lay keening on Cyrelle's cot. Lyceus stood near the table, tears streaming down his face while Gabrielle stood beside him, talking softly and also crying.

"Friends," Xena called out to their guests, "your concern and condolences mean a lot to us, but as you know, my sister-in-law is not well, and I think some quiet rest would do her good."

The women nodded, and a few began moving toward the door.

"Everyone is invited to the tavern tonight at sundown," Xena continued. "At that time, I will tell about the events that led up to my brother's death, and we can discuss how we're going to defend Amphipolis."

A murmur of approval ran through the room.

"So until then," Xena said, "a little space and time to rest would be greatly appreciated."

The women began to leave, each first offering a few words of sympathy, and within a few minutes, only the family remained. Xena stood near the door, feeling the weight of sorrow in the room, but not knowing what to say to lighten it. No one else spoke either, until Lyceus suddenly burst out with, "Why did they have to kill him? Why couldn't they see what a good person he was?"

"It's war, Sweetheart," Gabrielle said in a gentle tone. "That's one reason why war is so terrible -- no one cares whether anyone is a good person or not." Then she wrapped both arms around him.

Acantha pushed herself up to a sitting position and looked over at them. "That's right," she said in a bitter tone, "comfort that bastard son of yours -- as if he could have really loved Toris. I'm the one with the true grief here. I'm the one who could never give my husband the son he wanted so much."

Xena felt a sudden jolt of anger and, starting forward, she opened her mouth to speak. But Gabrielle beat her to it.

"Why, you heartless bitch!" the bard exclaimed, releasing Lyceus from her embrace and turning toward Acantha. "How dare you say a thing like that! Lyceus loved Toris as much as any son could love a father, and Toris loved him back!"

Moving quickly to intercept her lover, Xena caught Gabrielle by the arm and gave her a warning look. "All right," she said, "we're all hurting here, but lashing out at each other won't make us feel any better."

Gabrielle stared at her for a moment, and then all at once the fight seemed to go out of her. With a sigh, she went back to Lyceus.

Xena followed her and said quietly, "Why don't you two go back to the tavern and keep things going there. I can send Cyrelle along in a few minutes to help you, but I think Acantha should stay here and rest for a while."

"Okay," Gabrielle said. Then she reached up to touch Xena's cheek. "How about you?" she asked. "You loved Toris, too. You need to take time to grieve."

Xena felt the brief, sharp sting of tears as she took Gabrielle's hand and brought it to her lips. "I will," she said. Then she looked at Lyceus and reached out to pull him close in a fierce hug. "Don't listen to Acantha," she murmured against his ear. "I happen to know that Toris loved you very, very much."

"Yeah," Lyceus said in a choked voice as he returned the hug. Then, pulling away, he gave her a shaky smile before turning to follow Gabrielle out the door.

Xena took a deep breath and looked at her sister-in-law, who now sat hugging her knees and moaning softly as she rocked back and forth. Picking up a chair, the healer carried it over to the cot and sat down. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

Acantha didn't answer, but she did stop moaning.

"I think you should stay here and rest for a while," Xena said. "Gabrielle and Lyceus can take care of things at the tavern."

Acantha looked at her then, with terrible pain in her eyes. "Why did he do it?" she asked. "Why did he do such a stupid thing? If he had only listened to you--" She stopped speaking and shook her head.

"Toris did what he thought was best," Xena said. "He did it because he loved us." She was about to say more things of this type, hoping it would make them both feel better, but she was interrupted when Cyrelle burst in through the back door.

"Wow," the girl exclaimed, "that head smells so incredibly gross! And the skin is all sort of rotting and falling off the bones!"

"Cyrelle, no!" Xena warned, looking over at Acantha.

But it was too late. The widow groaned and clamped a hand over her mouth. Then, as vomit spilled out between her fingers, she leaned over the side of the bed and continued retching.

"Get a basin or something," Xena said to Cyrelle. "Hurry!"

The girl brought a basin, which Xena handed to Acantha before getting up and steering her daughter back toward the other end of the room. "What could you have been thinking, talking like that?" she demanded in a low voice.

"Well, how was I supposed to know it would make her puke?" Cyrelle said in a defensive tone.

Xena shook her head. "When are you going to start thinking about other people's feelings besides your own?" she asked. "Only a child thinks about herself all the time."

"I'm not a child," Cyrelle muttered.

"Then you need to stop acting like one," Xena returned. "And you can start by cleaning up the floor there by the bed."

"I have to clean up Acantha's puke?"

"It's your fault it happened. You might as well start taking responsibility for your actions."

Cyrelle sighed heavily and went in search of a rag and a bucket. Upon her return, she stopped in front of Xena and said flatly, "You'll have to avenge Toris' murder, you know. If you don't, the Furies will curse you with madness."

"I don't think you listened to that story very carefully, Cyrelle. Seeking revenge doesn't necessarily solve anything."

"Are you saying you're not going to avenge your own brother's death?"

"I'm saying that I have other priorities -- like defending this town from Demetri's army, for example."

The girl stared at her for a moment without speaking, then walked over to Acantha's bed and began cleaning up the mess. When she finished, Xena sent her off to the tavern, and then put a pot of water on the fire.

"I'm going to make you some tea," she told Acantha. "It will settle your stomach and help you sleep."

The widow nodded, and then said, "Cyrelle doesn't feel it, does she?"

"Doesn't feel what?"

"Grief. She doesn't even seem to care that Toris is dead. Is it because Ares is her father? Is that why she can't feel sorrow, like a normal person?"

The chill of an old, familiar fear crept into Xena's gut. "I think Cyrelle feels sad about Toris," she said carefully, "but she doesn't know how to show it, so she talks about vengeance instead. I used to be like that, too."

"You're still like that," Acantha replied. "Your brother is dead, and you have yet to shed a single tear."

"That doesn't mean I'm not grieving," Xena said quietly.

Acantha looked at her. "I know," she said finally. "I just-- I can't believe he's gone, and we'll never see him again." She shook her head and added, "I don't know how I'm going to get through this." Then, hiding her face in her hands, she began to cry once more.

Xena sat down beside her and put an arm around her shoulders. She had never felt particularly close to her sister-in-law, but she had always tried to get along with her, for Toris' sake. Now Toris was dead, but it seemed that the two women's grief might bind them together in an even stronger bond. For as Acantha clung to her, sobbing, Xena felt an unexpected wave of tenderness wash over her. She pulled the other woman gently closer to her, and after a few moments, laid her face against Acantha's dark hair. Then, at last, she was able to let her own tears begin to flow.

CHAPTER 15

That evening Gabrielle stood in the kitchen doorway and watched people crowding into the tavern room for the town meeting. Supper had already been served to those who wanted it, and now Lyceus and Cyrelle, aided by Maphias, stood behind the bar, busily pouring wine and mead for all those who came and plunked their coins down. This town meeting thing was definitely good for business, the bard thought. Toris would have been especially pleased . . . if only he had been there.

Sighing, Gabrielle leaned heavily against the doorjamb. It had been a long day, a terrible day, and she felt weary to the bone. Glancing over at her son, she saw that his face was lined with exhaustion and sorrow. But the grim set of his jaw told her that he was determined to shoulder a full load of tavern duties, just as his father would have done. It was the way he chose to honor Toris, even though Cyrelle, for her part, had had very different ideas about how such honor should be paid.

The tavern had seemed so empty that morning when Gabrielle and Lyceus returned there after learning of Toris' death. Standing in the middle of the main room, they had found themselves looking around as if the place had somehow changed completely in the half hour or so they'd been gone.

"Maybe we'll feel better if we get busy doing something," Gabrielle said.

"Yeah," Lyceus agreed in a dull tone.

"I guess I'll try to figure out what Acantha was cooking for lunch, and finish that up," the bard went on. "When Cyrelle comes, she can clean the rooms I didn't get to yet." She paused to wait for a response from Lyceus, but when none came, she asked, "How about you? Did you get everything done in the stable?"

"Uh, no. I still have to muck out a couple more stalls."

"Okay. Why don't you go do that?"

He looked at her, took a deep breath, then nodded and squared his shoulders. "When I'm done in the stable, I'll start splitting that new load of firewood," he said.

Gabrielle looked out the window at the large pile of wood that had been delivered to the courtyard early that morning. "That's a lot of work for you to do alone," she said. "We may have to hire somebody to help out."

"Toris used to do it alone," Lyceus said resolutely. "And if he could, then I can, too."

"Toris hasn't done it without your help for several years," Gabrielle reminded the boy, "and business has been growing, so there's more wood to split." She laid a hand on his arm. "You don't have to do every last thing your father did around here," she continued. "Nobody expects that."

"But don't you think Toris would want me to--"

He broke off and looked toward the door as Cyrelle came in. "Lyceus!" she exclaimed, running to throw her arms around her cousin's neck. "It's just so horrible what they did to your father!"

Gabrielle, touched by the girl's display of affection, stepped back to give the two young people more space.

Lyceus returned the embrace, sniffling a little as he did so.

"Don't cry," Cyrelle said, pulling away to look at his face. "You're a big boy now -- almost a man, and it's a sign of weakness for a man to cry."

"I know," he said, and swiped a hand across his cheek.

"You'll have to avenge his murder, you know," the girl said then.

He stared at her. "What are you talking about?" he asked.

"Well, Xena refuses to do it, so I guess it's up to you. He's your father, and he was murdered. If you don't avenge his death, the Furies will curse you with madness."

"Cyrelle--" Gabrielle began.

"I don't want to kill anyone," Lyceus said.

"You have to," insisted Cyrelle. "You have to avenge your father's murder."

"No!" exclaimed Gabrielle. "He doesn't have to kill anybody! Answering violence with more violence doesn't accomplish anything."

"But if he doesn't, the Furies--"

"Orestes avenged his father's death by killing his mother, and it didn't help him at all," argued Lyceus. "He still ended up mad. Don't you remember the story Mother told us?"

"Yes, but--"

"And the Furies only cursed Xena with madness because Ares persuaded them to," Gabrielle added. "I doubt they would have thought to do it on their own."

"So you would just let Toris' murderers go unpunished?" Cyrelle asked incredulously. "I know who they are," she went on. "I made that messenger guy tell me their names."

Gabrielle put her hands on Cyrelle's shoulders and turned her so that the girl faced her. "Whoever killed Toris probably did it because they thought he killed Arsenios," the bard said. "They were seeking revenge, and now you want to do exactly the same thing and continue the whole terrible cycle."

"Well, we have to!" Cyrelle responded heatedly. "They cut off his head! They murdered him in cold blood, and none of you seems to care! I guess I'll have to avenge his death myself."

"No," Gabrielle said, giving the girl's shoulders a sharp shake. "There will be no more talk of vengeance. Lyceus isn't required to kill anyone, and neither are you. Do you understand me?"

Cyrelle gave her a sullen look. "I guess so," she muttered.

"Lyceus," Gabrielle said, glancing over at her son, "why don't you go on out and finish your work in the stable. Cyrelle and I need to get some things done in here."

The boy nodded, then turned and made his way out the back door.

Gabrielle released her hold on Cyrelle and studied the girl's face for a few moments. "It's okay to cry, you know," she said finally.

"I don't feel like crying."

"Yes, I think you do, actually," Gabrielle countered. "But you're afraid you'll look weak if you cry, so you go around in a rage, demanding vengeance instead." She sighed. "Your mother used to be exactly the same way, but she's changed, over the years."

"Mother didn't cry about Toris."

"Maybe she hasn't yet, but she will. You mark my words."

"But if she really loved Toris, wouldn't she want to avenge his death? Isn't that what Toris would want?"

Gabrielle considered for a moment. "No, I don't really think that's what Toris would want," she said. "Do you remember the story about how Toris spent all those years looking for Cortese because he wanted revenge for what happened to Amphipolis?"

Cyrelle nodded.

"Xena told him that killing Cortese wouldn't really make him feel any better. It wouldn't bring back their brother Lyceus, or any of the other people who died. It would just make him a murderer, too. And Toris finally realized that she was right."

"But it doesn't seem fair that someone should just get away with killing other people."

"No, it's not fair when that happens," Gabrielle agreed. "And that's why we have trials and judges. If somebody is found guilty of murder, then they are executed."

Cyrelle sighed and pressed her lips together in what might have been a frown. Then she began to scuff her sandal at a wine stain in one of the floorboards.

"What are you thinking about?" Gabrielle asked.

"Nothing."

"Okay then, I'd really appreciate it if you could finish cleaning upstairs while I fix lunch."

"I'm really not supposed to have to work until tonight," Cyrelle said.

"I know, but these are special circumstances, and we all have to pitch in and help out."

The girl sighed again, and then she had gone reluctantly to work. Gabrielle, for her part, had finished up lunch and served it, meanwhile trying to find a few minutes to chat with everyone who dropped by to offer condolences and ask questions about Toris' death.

It was midafternoon before the bard finally found herself alone. She was just starting to wash dishes when she heard the sound of Xena's crutch in the tavern room. Looking up, she watched the older woman come through the kitchen door and cross to the table.

"How are you doing?" Gabrielle asked, noting the lines of tension and fatigue in her lover's face.

"All right, I suppose," Xena said. Then she set her crutch aside, picked up a towel, and began to dry the freshly-washed plates.

Gabrielle guessed that her companion wanted to talk, and waited for her to begin, but the silence continued unbroken. "How's Acantha?" the bard asked at last -- not that she really cared, since the memory of Acantha's remarks about Lyceus still rankled in her memory.

"I'm kind of worried about her, to tell you the truth," Xena said, sounding relieved to have the conversation started for her. "She seems exhausted, and she's having trouble keeping food down."

"I guess she's taking Toris' death pretty hard," Gabrielle said, as she felt her anger begin to ease up.

"Yes, she is. I gave her some herbs to make her sleep, so maybe that will help, but I think it would be a good idea for her to stay at our house tonight."

"Okay," Gabrielle said, frowning a little, "but that means no one will be here at the tavern overnight except Cyrelle."

"Yeah," Xena agreed. "That's why I was wondering if maybe you could--" She stopped.

"Stay here tonight?" Gabrielle finished for her. "Yes, of course I can, if that's what you need me to do."

"Thanks," Xena said softly. "I'm sorry to ask you to do it, but I think it's the best plan."

"It will seem strange," Gabrielle said. "I can't even remember the last time we spent a night apart."

"I know," Xena said. "And of all the nights when it would be comforting to have you near me--" She shook her head. "Well, it can't be helped," she finished.

Gabrielle looked at her for a moment. Then, reaching out to take away the dish towel, she quickly dried her hands, and wrapped both arms tightly around her companion. She felt Xena return the embrace, and several long moments passed, during which neither woman spoke. And although Gabrielle had thought only of giving comfort to her lover, in the circle of Xena's strong arms, she found peace as well.

"So is this why you walked all the way over here," Gabrielle murmured finally, "just to tell me we can't be together tonight, and to get a hug?"

Xena sighed and moved back a little. "No," she said, "there's something I wanted to ask your opinion about."

"Okay," the bard said with a smile, "you know I always have an opinion to give."

The warrior smiled slightly as she picked up the towel again. "I'm thinking about making Cyrelle my second-in-command," she said. "That is, if I can't talk you into accepting the position."

"Oh," Gabrielle said in surprise, then turned back to the wash pan and began scrubbing a bowl while she considered what her response should be. "Well," she ventured after a few moments of silence, "Cyrelle's fighting skills are definitely getting good."

"Yes, they are."

"But she still seems so--"

"Immature?" suggested Xena. "Out of control?"

"Yes, well, those are good ways to describe her, but I think maybe the word I was looking for was 'impetuous.'"

"Impetuous," mused the older woman. "And what do you mean by that, exactly?"

"Just that Cyrelle seems to act so often on impulse, and with so much passion--" Gabrielle stopped for a moment to look at Xena, and then went on. "This morning she came marching in here, telling Lyceus that he had to avenge Toris' death. Lyceus was already upset enough, poor boy, and then for Cyrelle to demand that he--"

"I'm sorry she did that," Xena cut in. "I had already told her that seeking vengeance wasn't going to solve anything. I thought she understood me, but apparently not."

"Well, I told her the same thing again, so maybe she finally got the message."

"What did Lyceus say?"

"He said he didn't want to kill anybody."

"Good for him," Xena replied, then sighed and turned to face Gabrielle. "So you think Cyrelle would be a bad choice for my lieutenant," she said flatly.

"I'm not sure, Xena. I mean, you must have confidence in her abilities if you're even considering her for the position, but do you really think you could trust her to follow orders?"

"I honestly don't know," the older woman admitted.

"And Cyrelle has no leadership experience. Would people follow her into battle?"

"Strangely enough, I think she may be a natural-born leader," Xena said.

"Why do you say that?" Gabrielle asked.

"Well, because I've been letting her teach some of the sword-fighting classes, and it's like she's a different person when she gets in front of a group. She has an air of authority that makes you forget she's only sixteen. And she seems to know just what to say to inspire people. They listen to her, Gabrielle. And they trust her."

"I guess she's like her mother in that way."

"Maybe. But she's also like I once was in terms of being inexperienced and vulnerable to Ares' manipulations." Then, before Gabrielle could say anything, Xena continued, "But you haven't responded to the other part of my question. I said I will only make Cyrelle my lieutenant if you won't do it."

Gabrielle took a deep breath and then let it out. "Xena, you know I love Amphipolis as much as you do," she said, "and I will do anything I can to help with the defense. It's just that-- Well, at this point in my life, I feel like I could do more good working behind the scenes. I can't really see myself charging into battle the way I used to," she finished. Then she looked at the warrior and added, "But if that's what you need me to do--"

"No," Xena said, laying a hand on the bard's shoulder. "I want you to do what you think you can do best. Cyrelle will jump at the chance to be my second-in-command, and at least with her in that position, we'll know Ares is on our side, and not Demetri's." She smiled grimly. "I just have to make sure Cyrelle understands that she is following my orders, and not her father's," she added.

"Well, I think you've got your work cut out for you," Gabrielle said with a grin.

"Yes, I have," Xena returned, "and I'd better get on with it." She laid the dish towel on the table, then reached for her crutch. "Maybe I'll go talk to Lyceus for a minute before I deal with Cyrelle," she went on. "It sounds like he's still splitting wood in the courtyard."

"Tell him he doesn't have to split all that wood by himself," Gabrielle said. "I told him, but I don't think he listened to me."

"Who's going to help him split it?"

"I don't know. We can hire somebody. Maybe one of his friends from the gymnasium."

"All right," the warrior said, nodding as she tucked the crutch under her arm.

"I love you, Xena," Gabrielle said quietly.

The older woman looked at her for a moment, blue eyes full of emotion. Then she reached out to touch the bard's cheek. "Thank you," she whispered.

"For loving you?"

"Yes, and for everything else you do," she said, smiling and bending down to plant a gentle kiss on the bard's lips. Then she headed for the door. "I'll see you at the meeting tonight," she called back over her shoulder as she stepped into the courtyard.

* * * * *

And now, several hours later, Gabrielle stood watching the tavern fill up with townspeople. At this point, there was standing room only, for every chair was taken. Small children perched on their parents' laps or sat cross-legged atop the tables, while the older youngsters darted through the crowd, playing noisy games of tag. The torches and braziers had already been lit, and the mingled odors of smoke, wine, and sweat hung heavy in the air.

"Is Xena here yet?"

The sudden, loudly-voiced question startled Gabrielle, who had failed to notice Cyrelle passing by on her way to refill a wine jug. The girl's dark eyes were glowing with suppressed excitement.

"I haven't seen her," the bard responded, "but I'm sure she'll be here soon."

"She'd better be. The sun's about to set, and the meeting is supposed to start at sundown."

Cyrelle continued into the kitchen, and Gabrielle turned to watch her, wondering once again whether Xena was making a mistake in her choice of a lieutenant. But just then the door to the courtyard opened, and the warrior herself came in, followed closely by a pale-looking Acantha.

"We went around to the back door to avoid some of the mob," Xena explained.

"It's about time you got here," Cyrelle said. "The place is packed, and we're about to run out of wine."

"Well, I'm here now," Xena said, "so you can stop fretting." Then she moved across the room to where her daughter stood, and put her arm around the girl's shoulders. "Are you excited, my lieutenant?" she asked.

"Yeah," Cyrelle admitted. "And kind of nervous, too. I mean, what if people think I can't do the job?"

"Then we'll just have to convince them otherwise," Xena said with a smile.

Gabrielle smiled, too, watching them. Maybe she was wrong, and this would all work out fine. After all, Xena's judgment was usually sound in such matters.

Acantha walked over and stood by Gabrielle. "Wow," she said, peering out into the tavern room. "I've never seen the place so crowded."

"Amazing, isn't it?" Gabrielle responded. "We've been selling a lot of drinks." Then, looking over at the other woman, she asked, "How are you feeling?"

Acantha shrugged. "I've felt better," she said in a sour tone.

"I, uh-- Well, I'm sort of surprised you're even here," Gabrielle ventured, "after everything that's happened today."

"I had to come," Acantha said grimly. "Toris gave his life to defend this town. The least I could do was come to the meeting." Then she turned her attention back to the noisy throng of people.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Gabrielle murmured as she followed Acantha's gaze. A man sitting at a nearby table glanced over at them, then quickly got up and gestured for Acantha to use his chair.

"Maybe I'll go sit down," the widow said without looking at Gabrielle. And, nodding her acceptance of the man's offer, she went over to him.

Cyrelle and Xena joined Gabrielle in the kitchen doorway. "There are more people here than I expected," the warrior said. She sounded pleased.

"I just hope they all want to help us fight Demetri," Cyrelle remarked.

"I think we can assume that everyone here wants to help defend Amphipolis," Gabrielle said.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Cyrelle admitted.

Gabrielle glanced over at the girl and then at Xena, and was surprised to find the warrior's blue eyes studying her.

"You look tired," the older woman said as she softly touched the bard's cheek.

"It's been a long day," Gabrielle said.

"Yes, it has," Xena agreed, as if she felt it, too.

But Gabrielle noticed that all traces of fatigue had vanished from her lover's face, replaced by the alert energy that she always used to show before going into battle.

"Xena," Maphias called from the bar, "are you ready to start? Should we stop serving?"

"Yes," the warrior called back. "Tell people they can buy drinks again after the meeting."

He nodded and turned back to the customers.

"Do you want me to go up there with you?" Cyrelle asked, nodding toward the storyteller's platform.

"Not yet," Xena said. "Wait here, and I'll call you when it's time."

"Okay," the girl responded, then smoothed her chiton and adjusted the dagger that hung from her belt.

With a parting smile for Gabrielle and a wink for Cyrelle, Xena turned and began making her way through the crowd toward the platform. Above the general racket, the bard could just hear Maphias and Lyceus telling people to go back to their places. She waited until the customers had moved away, then she wandered over and leaned against the end of the bar.

"We can just sit up here while the meeting is going on," Maphias told her, nodding toward the bar top as he gave it one last swipe with his rag.

"Oh, good idea," responded Gabrielle. She walked around to the front of the bar and Maphias followed her, then boosted her up. A moment later, Cyrelle hopped up on one side of her, and Maphias and Lyceus on the other.

It seemed strange to see Xena occupying the storyteller's platform, where the bard herself had spent so many hours. The warrior looked particularly dignified, Gabrielle thought, with an easy air of authority about her. Xena's blue tunic and trousers mirrored the intensity of her eyes, and hid her withered right leg from public view. The silver-gray hair had been pulled back from her face with a small braid on either side, and the rest of its length cascaded down over the warrior's back and shoulders. She stood surveying the chaotic scene before her in silence for several long moments, and just when Gabrielle began to wonder how her lover planned to catch the crowd's attention, Xena suddenly threw back her head and let out a piercing war cry.

The sound of it sent a thrill running through the bard, as she realized just how much she had missed hearing that cry during the past few years. A startled hush fell over the room, and all eyes turned toward the warrior.

"A war cry," Gabrielle heard Cyrelle mutter to herself, "that's what I need!"

The bard smiled and cast a quick glance at the girl before looking toward the platform again.

"People of Amphipolis," Xena began. "My dear friends and neighbors." Her clear, strong voice seemed to reach out and embrace everyone present. "I'm sure you have all heard by now that the warlord Demetri sent a messenger to my door this morning to deliver the head of my brother Toris."

She paused as a murmur of sympathetic anger ran through the room.

"Tonight I am going to tell you how it came about that my brother gave up his life in the defense of Amphipolis," she went on.

Her listeners nodded and leaned in eagerly to hear the story.

Xena took a deep breath while her eyes swept over the crowd, then she said, "Some of you are old enough to remember when Draco came here, and threatened to destroy Amphipolis."

"But you fought him and saved the town!" an old woman cried out.

"Yes!" several others shouted in agreement. "You saved us all!" The clamor of voices quickly rose to fill the room once more. Everyone knew about Xena's battle with Draco, for the story had been told at every family's hearth down through the years.

Xena held up her hand for silence, and when it came, she said, "You must be quiet now, and let me tell you what happened to Toris."

The people nodded, and this time they held their peace.

"Draco's name has been known in this land for many years," Xena said then, "but most of us had not heard of Demetri until recently. And some of you may not know that Demetri is Draco's son."

This information was greeted with exclamations of surprise, but Xena pressed on. "At the time of the last new moon, a man named Arsenios came here to scout Amphipolis for Demetri," she said, "but as it just so happened, Arsenios was an old friend of mine." She went on, then, to tell how Arsenios had brought them the news of Draco's death, and of Demetri's plan to conquer the northern towns and villages. She told of Arsenios' suicide, the note he left, and of Toris' decision to act on the suggestion in that note.

Gabrielle listened in fascination, even though she already knew the tale. Leaning toward Cyrelle, she whispered, "Your mother is a darned good storyteller, even if she won't admit it."

"Well, she's always told us she has many skills," the girl replied with a grin.

"And so she does," Gabrielle said, laughing. Then she turned her attention once more to the speaker.

"I managed to persuade Demetri's messenger to provide us with a little information this morning," Xena was saying, "and it pretty much confirms what Arsenios told me. I'll send out a scout tonight to follow the army's movements, but it looks like we'll have about six more days to finish our defense preparations."

"How can we hope to fight a warlord like Demetri?" a man standing near the kitchen door called out. "We're not warriors. We're all going to end up like your brother, with our heads cut off!"

"Only a coward would say that!" another man responded loudly.

"He's not a coward! He's just facing the facts!" a woman cried.

"And the fact is, we're perfectly capable of defending ourselves!" someone else yelled.

And so the shouting match began, and continued loudly for several minutes until Xena quieted it with another war cry.

"Many years ago," the warrior said in a solemn tone of voice, "Cortese marched his army on this town, and there were people here then who said we could not hope to defeat him. But my brother Lyceus and I believed differently. Some very brave people joined us, we fought Cortese, and we won!"

"But Lyceus was killed!" a woman's voice cried out.

"Yes, and he wasn't the only one who died," Xena admitted. "But those people died fighting for a cause they believed in. They gave up their lives so that the rest of us could live in peace and freedom. Lyceus' death was not in vain, and I will not believe that Toris died in vain, either!" Her voice now took on a certainty that seemed to slice like a sword through all of the doubt in the room. "We can defend this town -- I know we can!" she cried. "Not only can we, but we must! We must fight to preserve our homes, and our families, and our way of life. If we don't, we will be reduced to the status of slaves, cutting timber and mining gold just to line Demetri's pockets. Is that what you want?"

There was silence in the room for several long moments, and then, somewhere near the staircase, a baby began to cry.

"Anyone who wants to can take refuge in the hills," Xena went on, but the rest of us will stay and fight. We're already training people to use swords, staffs, slings, and bows."

"And we have the wall now," Maphias called out suddenly, making Gabrielle jump. "We built it for defense, remember? And now, for the first time, we need to use it."

"Yes," Xena agreed, "it will be much easier to defend ourselves now that we have the wall."

"But what if there's a siege?" a woman asked. "Won't we be trapped in here like rats in a cage?"

"There will almost definitely be a siege," Xena responded, "and that's why we have already started stockpiling food and ammunition. But I will tell you this," she added quickly, raising her voice to be heard over the new murmur of conversation. "If there is a siege, I will do everything in my power to find a way to break it as soon as possible."

"What if they poison our water?" someone called out.

"That would be pretty hard for them to do," Xena said. "We have lots of wells in town, and most of them aren't very deep. That means the water table is large and fairly close to the surface, and someone would have to poison the whole thing, which would be impossible."

"Could they tunnel under the walls?" another person asked.

"No. Not without having their tunnels fill up with water."

A man who had been leaning against the back wall stepped forward and waved his hand to get Xena's attention. "What happens to those of us who live outside the walls?" he shouted. "Are we just left to be carrion for Demetri's vultures?"

"No, of course not," the warrior assured him. "We will find a place for anyone who wants to take shelter inside the city walls. There are eight rooms upstairs here that people can use, and I'm sure others will be willing to open their homes and inns." Then, addressing herself to a man at one of the front tables, she asked, "How about you, Cletus? You've got some space at your inn, haven't you?"

"Uh, well, yes," the man replied, evidently caught off guard by being unexpectedly singled out. But recovering his composure, he rose from his chair and turned to the crowd. "We've got four rooms at the Golden Goose," he announced, "and I'm happy to offer them to anyone who needs a place to stay here in town. No charge."

Another man quickly jumped up. "I've got six rooms at the South Gate Tavern," he said, "and there's space in the stable, too, if someone needs it, with lots of clean straw to sleep on."

Gabrielle was surprised -- not so much at the offers of shelter, but at the realization that the other innkeepers had apparently all shut down their own businesses for the evening in order to attend the town meeting. Had they done it solely out of concern for the defense of Amphipolis, or was it also a gesture of respect for Toris? Xena's brother had always been well liked by his fellow townspeople; there could be no doubt about that.

"Mother," Lyceus said, leaning around behind Maphias and giving her sleeve a tug.

"Hmm?"

"How come all the other taverns have names and this one doesn't?" he asked.

"I don't know," Gabrielle admitted.

"I do," Maphias said. "It's because this used to be the only tavern in town, so it didn't need a name. It was just 'the tavern.' But when the other places opened up, they had to have names to differentiate themselves from this place."

"Oh. That makes sense," Lyceus said.

"Shh," Gabrielle warned him. "We need to be quiet and listen."

"Yeah, it looks like my father is going to put his two coppers' worth in," Maphias said with a grin.

Basil had mounted the platform to consult with Xena, and now she stepped back to let him address the gathering.

"Friends, please give me your attention," he called out in a thin, old voice that carried surprisingly well over the commotion. The room slowly grew quiet, after which he continued. "Everyone who wants to take refuge inside the walls of Amphipolis is welcome to do so," he announced. "If you need a place to stay, or if you can accommodate someone in your home, come talk to me or to my son, Maphias. That's him over there," he added, pointing toward the bar.

Maphias waved his arm in the air. "See me after the meeting tonight or come to my carpentry shop on the east side of the market," he told the crowd.

Basil nodded and then began announcing the schedule of weapons training.

"Gabrielle," hissed Cyrelle, "do you think Xena forgot she was going to tell people I'm her lieutenant?"

"No, of course not."

"Well, when is she ever going to do it?"

"It shouldn't be too much longer," Gabrielle whispered. "I think she just wanted to get the business stuff out of the way first."

"Oh. Well, it's taking forever!"

"Yes, but it's necessary. People need to believe that we really have a chance to defeat Demetri. Otherwise, they won't join the defense effort."

Cyrelle nodded, apparently satisfied with this explanation, and Gabrielle looked toward the speaker's platform again.

"If you don't think of yourself as a fighter," Basil was saying, "there are plenty of other things you can do. We need people to help dry meat, vegetables, and fruit, for one thing." Then he turned to look at Xena. "What else do we need?" he asked.

She stepped forward. "We're going to need a lot of stones for our slings," she said, "so if some of you kids want to go out by the river and bring back stones for us, that would be really helpful. And we also need some people to go up into the hills and cut saplings to use as spears and fighting staffs," she went on. "Then, after Demetri gets here, some of you can act as lookouts and messengers, and as nurses for the wounded."

"So you see," Basil concluded, "everyone can help us defend Amphipolis -- even the children. Just come and talk to me or to Xena or to one of the town council members, and we'll put you right to work!" He grinned and then stepped down from the platform. "Now I'll turn the meeting back over to the Warrior Princess," he said, and resumed his seat at one of the front tables.

Xena waited until the crowd quieted down again. Then she said, "I know that a lot of you are scared, and with good reason. By all accounts, Demetri is a ruthless warlord, and he's coming here with his army to attack us. But I happen to believe that if we work together, we can beat him. I believe that with all my heart, and the town council believes it, too. That's why they asked me to be the commander of the defense effort. And I'm asking you -- every last one of you -- to be my army."

A number of people nodded, but before anyone could speak, Xena hurried on.

"The problem is," she said, "if a commander believes one thing, and her troops believe something different, then there's no way they can win even a single battle." She paused to take a deep breath before going on. "Some of you have been practicing your fighting techniques, and I know you are committed to defending Amphipolis. But others came here tonight with honest doubts about whether we could defeat Demetri. I hope I've been able to reassure you because--"

"Yes!" a man shouted from the far side of the room. "We can do it! We'll send that bastard running away from here with his tail between his legs!"

"We have to fight to save our families!" a woman called out.

"We beat Cortese!" someone else yelled. "We can beat Demetri, too!"

"We're with you, Xena!" came another voice.

Then some began to chant, "Xena! Xena! Xena!" but that was soon drowned out in a general chorus of cheers, applause, and foot-stomping.

Gabrielle found herself swept up in the excitement, screaming and clapping and kicking her heels against the bar. Maphias and Lyceus were doing the same, while Cyrelle leaped off the bar and began jumping up and down, shouting and waving her hands in the air.

The commotion lasted for several minutes. Xena stood unmoving on the platform, meanwhile, watching the proceedings with a quiet smile. Finally, she raised her hand and motioned for silence. It took awhile for the crowd to settle down, but at last she was able to address them again. "Thank you for your support," she said. "This is the kind of enthusiasm that makes a commander feel certain that battles can be won."

The room would have erupted into new cheers, but Xena banged her crutch on the platform to restore order. "There's one more thing I need to tell you before I let you go home," she said. Then she made a show of tucking the crutch back under her arm. "As you know," she reminded the group, "I'm not quite as agile now as I was back in my warrior days. So even though I will be planning all the strategy and giving all the orders, it will fall to my second-in-command to actually lead the fighting. Tonight I want to announce who that person will be."

A number of heads turned toward the group sitting on the bar, and suddenly Gabrielle realized that everyone was looking at her, not at Cyrelle. "They think it's me," she whispered to the girl. "Boy, are they going to be surprised!"

"Yeah!" Cyrelle agreed, flashing the bard an excited grin.

Now Xena, too, looked in their direction. She smiled and then said, "I present to you as lieutenant my daughter, Cyrelle."

A surprised silence greeted the announcement, followed by a murmur of voices and a hesitant spatter of applause. Cyrelle rushed forward and bounded onto the platform, then turned to face the crowd. Xena put a hand on the girl's shoulder.

Maphias looked at Gabrielle. "Cyrelle is going to be Xena's lieutenant?" he asked in an incredulous tone. "What can Xena possibly be thinking?"

"Well, I guess she--" Gabrielle began, but stopped when a man stood up near the center of the room and addressed himself to the warrior.

"With all due respect, Xena," he said, "isn't your daughter a little young for this kind of responsibility?"

There were nods of agreement as he resumed his seat, and a woman's voice called out, "She doesn't even have any battle experience!"

"You're right," Xena responded, glancing briefly at her lieutenant, "Cyrelle is young. She's only sixteen. But that's the age my brother Lyceus was when he and I led the fight against Cortese." She paused, as if to let this point sink in, and then went on, "You're also right in saying that Cyrelle has no experience in battle, but Lyceus and I didn't have any either, and we still managed to defeat Cortese. Besides which," she added, "Cyrelle will be taking her orders from me, and I've fought more battles than I even want to think about." She grinned and the crowd seemed to relax a little, apparently feeling reassured.

"As many of you know," Xena continued, "I never wanted Cyrelle to be a warrior, but the present circumstances have forced me to teach her to fight. I can honestly say I've never seen anyone learn to use weapons as quickly and as skillfully as Cyrelle has in this short space of time. She has a true warrior's spirit, which she inherited from me, as well as from her father."

"Who's her father?" someone shouted.

The warrior looked at Cyrelle again, and the girl gave a slight nod. "Her father is Ares," Xena announced.

There were several gasps and cries of amazement, after which an excited babble of voices filled the room.

"Ares!" Maphias exclaimed to no one in particular. "Holy shit!"

Basil, looking somewhat consternated, had started toward the platform, but Xena waved him back and thumped her crutch again for silence.

"We don't want anything to do with that warmonger Ares!" a woman shouted.

Xena shook her head. "Don't you see?" she called out over the commotion, "with Cyrelle as my lieutenant, we can be sure that Ares will be fighting on our side and not on Demetri's."

The noise died down as people seemed to consider this idea.

Basil rose again and turned to face the crowd. "Well, I say we need all the help we can get, and who better to help us than the god of war?"

This thought was met with reluctant approval.

Then Cyrelle stepped to the front of the platform. "Let me say something," she said, "please."

A polite hush settled over the listeners.

"It's true that I'm young and inexperienced," the girl began. "I've never fought in a war, but then neither have most of you."

There were many nods of agreement.

"And here's what else we have in common," Cyrelle went on. "I grew up in Amphipolis, and so did most of you. I love this town, and I'll bet you do, too, because this is our home. But now, all of a sudden, some stupid warlord comes along and murders my Uncle Toris. And that same warlord thinks he can just march in here, take over the place, and make himself rich at our expense. Well, that makes me really mad!"

"Me, too!" came several shouts.

"Good! Because that anger is going to make warriors out of all of us," Cyrelle said. "We're not going to let that bastard come in here and take away our livelihood, are we?"

"No!" chorused the townspeople.

"Are we going to let him cut off any more heads?"

"No!"

"And sell our children into slavery?"

"No!"

"Are we going to fight him in every way we know how?"

"Yes! Kill the bastard! Save our families! Save Amphipolis!"

The shouting and cheering drowned out anything else Cyrelle might have wanted to say, but she didn't seem to mind. She stood defiantly, hands on her hips, and smiled her approval at the crowd. And watching her, Gabrielle felt a sudden chill run down her spine. Her mind flashed back to the day she had first seen Xena's dark side show itself. There had been a certain gleam in the warrior's eye, an expression of malicious glee that Gabrielle now recognized clearly in Cyrelle's brown eyes.

She glanced quickly at Xena, but the older woman appeared unperturbed. If anything, she looked as if she were proud of her daughter's ability to rouse the assemblage to such a frenzy. Can't she see it? the bard wondered. Doesn't she realize what's happening?

Slipping down from her seat atop the bar, Gabrielle hurried through the kitchen and out into the courtyard. The cool night air felt sweet against her burning face, and she filled her lungs with it as she gazed up at the familiar array of stars in the black sky above. But nothing seemed to help. The fear that now sat like a cold weight in her gut seemed to have come there to stay.