Timothy Boggs - Hercules Legendary Joureneys 02 (10 page)

On the far side they saw a group of ten men at the top of eight wide steps, standing beneath an elaborately carved roof.

"The council," Iolaus guessed. There was little enthusiasm left in his voice.

Hercules said nothing.

By the time Holix had finished his story—and had asked, somewhat meekly, if he could sit up, his back was killing him—Hercules had already run through most of his darker emotions. It had taken only a hand-ful of pointed questions to convince him that the young man wasn't lying. He had no doubt then that his suspicions had been well founded, that this year Themon's festival had been turned into one of his stepmother's devious traps.

But he needed more information, and there was only one person who could tell him what he had to know. First, however, there was the council to face.

"You know," Iolaus said, "we could always leave. I think it'd be a lot easier facing those rebels again."

Hercules shook his head. "We can't. We're here now."

"I know we're here now, but we don't have to be here later."

"Yes, we do."

Iolaus sighed. "Yeah, I guess you're right." As they walked toward the men he brightened. "We'll still get to see the contestants, though, right?"

Hercules nodded, with a brief smile.

"That's okay, then."

As they approached the steps one of the men, wearing a voluminous dark-green robe edged with gold thread, turned toward them and scowled. He was of medium height, with thick white hair except for a few strands of black over the ears. His face was lined, but pleasantly so. It was the eyes that struck Hercules—

very dark, and set deep beneath dark eyebrows.

"What do you want?" the man demanded. "No one is supposed to be here until the morning."

A soft clank of metal made Hercules aware of the guards posted behind each pillar. Unlike the rebels, these men were well armed and well armored.

"I'm Iolaus," Iolaus announced stoutly, posing with one foot on the bottom step, one hand on his hip.

"Your festival judge. You sent for me, remember? And this is Hercules, your other judge."

The council members stirred, whispered among themselves, and did everything but point and ask for an autograph.

Titus Perical hushed them with a sharp gesture, and his welcoming smile reminded Hercules of an aged wolf that hadn't eaten in a very long time.

A languid, beckoning hand invited the two men up the steps, and after the introductions were made and the fussing had died down, Titus put a friendly hand on Iolaus' shoulder.

"You're late, my friend," he said. "We were all concerned for your safety."

"A little scrape with some rebels, that's all," Iolaus said.

The councillors murmured alarm; Titus hushed them again, with a look.

"You're not hurt, I trust?"

Iolaus laughed. "No, not us. I'm not so sure about the rebels, though."

The councillors laughed their appreciation of his courage, and Titus explained apologetically that the rebels—this particular band anyway—were more of a nuisance than a true danger. They certainly wouldn't be allowed to disrupt the ceremonies. And the identity of their leader was close to discovery.

"This band?" Hercules said.

"Yes. They do show up once in a while. Misguided youth who want to rule the world."

And you don't, Hercules thought; could have fooled me.

"We have a pretty fair idea who they are," the man continued. "They'll be under control in no time."

He gestured dismissively. "Pests. As I said."

The conversation turned to accommodations for the city's honored guests, and a brief explanation of their expected duties and appearances. As it turned out, in return for covering all their expenses, and a generous pouch of dinars for their trouble, all they had to do was make themselves available to the people for admiration, sit with the council at the banquet just before sunset the next day, and be present for the judging that evening.

"And the ladies?" Iolaus asked innocently.

Titus waggled a mock-scolding finger. "Now, Iolaus, we wouldn't want them to try to bribe you, would we?"

Iolaus looked shocked. "Well, no, of course not."

"Then the minute you see them will be the minute they see you first. At the contest." A pious look skyward. "We wouldn't want to offend the gods by giving unfair advantage, now, would we?"

Iolaus didn't respond until Hercules jabbed the small of his back. "No! Gods, no, that wouldn't be right."

"Of course." Titus glanced at the council. "Now, sirs, if you will excuse us, we have much to do before tomorrow."

Iolaus agreed, made sure he knew the directions to the inn where he and Hercules would be quartered, and shook hands all around. Hercules followed suit, and trailed Iolaus down the stairs.

"Oh. Hercules," Titus called.

Hercules turned.

"Do be careful, won't you? Once those rebels discover you're actually in town, they may try something

. .. harmful. I certainly wouldn't want anything to happen to you. Or your friend, of course."

' 'I think I can take care of myself, but thanks for the warning," Hercules answered, then waved a farewell, and caught up with Iolaus midway across the plaza.

"You know, Herc," his friend said with a sad shake of his head, "this isn't going to be as much fun as I thought. And that guy gives me the creeps."

Hercules couldn't resist a little good-natured teasing. "But what about all those women? Their dreams.

Their aspirations. Their hopes. Their—"

"All right, all right," Iolaus groused. "Boy, a guy can't say anything around you, can he?"

Hercules draped an arm around his shoulders as they left the plaza for the boulevard. "Iolaus, you're forgetting something."

"What."

"This city is probably filled with lovely women. This city is about to explode with parties and banquets and parades and who knows what else? This city knows who the fantastic Iolaus is and will—"

Iolaus stopped him with an upraised hand. "Got it, got it, I got it. I'm being greedy, right?"

"Right."

"I should make my own fun, right?"

"Right."

"I shouldn't have any trouble lining up a couple of real—"

The hand that was on his shoulder shifted to cover his mouth. "Don't push it, Iolaus. Don't push it."

Five minutes later they reached the Red Boar Inn, a fine-looking establishment with, Iolaus noted instantly, amazing proximity to other fine-looking inns from which sounds of revelry drifted into the night air. As he made for the entrance, however, Hercules stopped him.

"Take care of the rooms," Hercules told him. "I'll see you later."

Iolaus frowned. "Hey, you're not going to have fun without me, are you?"

"No. I promise." His expression darkened. "But there's someone I have to see, and I have to see him now."

Iolaus shrugged. "I'll go with you."

"No, I don't think so."

Iolaus shifted, ready to argue, until suddenly he realized what Hercules meant. "Oh. Okay. I'll take care of everything, don't worry." His hand touched Hercules' arm. "Just promise me that you're not going to try to take on Hera on your own."

Hercules could so promise, and did. "But it's not Hera I'm looking for," he added. A hearty slap on Iolaus' shoulders sent him back. "Just make sure there aren't any rebels in my bed when I get back."

Then he walked down the boulevard.

Heading for the sea.

Titus paid no attention to the others as they bid him a good night. He kept his gaze on the two men leaving the plaza, wondering if perhaps he had made a mistake. Although there was nothing spectacular about Hercules' appearance, he couldn't help feeling the sheer
power
that emanated from the man.

Even if he didn't know of his connections to the gods, he'd have to be an idiot not to at least sense something beyond the ordinary run of mortals in him.

Hercules was human, and something more.

Just looking at him made Titus uneasy.

Soft footsteps behind him made him smile, and he held out his hand without looking. A much softer hand took his and squeezed it gently.

"Your people," he said, "couldn't hold them, it seems."

A woman's quiet laughter made him smile himself. "They weren't supposed to, darling."

"Did you tell them that?"

"Of course not. But twice, three times their number wouldn't have done it. 1 just wish the delay had been longer. I think—" She exhaled loudly. "I think he might have too much time to think."

Titus considered the notion, and dismissed it. ' 'No. He's not the most friendly man I've ever met—that runt did most of the talking—but I'm beginning to think Hercules is overrated."

The woman squeezed his hand again before slipping an arm around his waist. "He didn't make you nervous?'

"Me?" He laughed silently. "Don't be silly."

"You're sweating, my love."

"It's a warm night."

"You're tapping your foot."

Titus looked down, saw his left foot tapping the ground, and ordered it to stop. It ignored him. He shifted his weight as casually as he could. The foot tapped a few more times, and gave up just as he began snapping the fingers of his right hand.

The woman giggled, and leaned her head against his arm. "You're really not cut out for this sort of thing, are you?"

"What are you talking about?" he demanded, trying to sound insulted and commanding. "I've been doing it for years."

"No, my love," she said tenderly. "You've been making all the speeches. I've been doing all the rest."

He turned within the circle of his wife's arm, put his arms around her, and said, "You think this is really the end, that she'll really let us go and"—he gazed out at the plaza—"spare the city?"

Jocasta Perical looked up into her husband's eyes. "I think we should get out before Hera fries us."

He glanced apprehensively at the sky. "You think she would? After all those promises?"

"In a Spartan minute."

He pondered, he thought, he debated, and he snarled when the tapping returned to his foot. "Maybe we should pack, then."

Jocasta smiled. "Darling, what do you think I've been doing all day?"

The city was behind him, nothing but stars overhead and the silver trail of the moon rippling on the water.

The tide was out, and Hercules had no problem making his way between the huge boulders that marked the west end of the beach. Once past them, he walked on for almost another hour, not stopping until he was positive he would not be seen or heard, inadvertently or otherwise.

He also made sure that the way inland wasn't impeded by rocks or cliffs, marshes or thick woodland.

Just a precaution, in case he had to run like hell if the meeting went sour.

Stalling,
a voice mocked in singsong; you're
stalling.

So what? he answered grumpily. If I stall long enough, maybe I can talk myself out of it.

He had no idea, not really, why he had come up with this plan in the first place. It was foolish, it was potentially dangerous, and it was probably a waste of time. If he had confided in Iolaus, his friend would have suggested that he was, without question, out of his little demigod mind.

Still, if Holix was right, and if his own impression of Titus Perical was right as well, he and Iolaus would need as many advantages as they could get. Without them, there was a good chance Hera would win this time.

Stalling.

He groaned in unabashed self-pity, stopped, and finally faced the water. Took a deep breath and moved forward until he was in up to his knees, the low waves nudging him, the moon bathing him in cold light.

He spoke a word then, one not in any language any mortal could understand.

Actually, he whispered it.

It didn't make any difference.

Less than a minute later he muttered, "Oh, boy," at the way the sea began to churn.

Hercules took an uncertain step backward.

Where the sea had begun to churn, a dome of water pressed upward, slowly, silently, as though a mountain were about to rise from the bottom. Sparks flared from the sides as the tower of water grew. Sparks within the tower raced in dizzying spirals from bottom to top.

Low waves rushed from the tower's base and slammed against his legs, forcing him back until he turned and struggled to the beach's wet apron.

When he looked, the tower was three times his height and still growing. Waterfalls thundered down each side from a central point at the top, looking in the moonlight like rivers of flowing ice-There was a shadow inside, a deepening black that filled the whole tower.

Hercules waited; there wasn't much else he could do.

Except maybe run, but it was probably too late for that.