Timothy Boggs - Hercules Legendary Joureneys 02 (12 page)

Iolaus grinned—a twin, no less.

Some guys had all the luck.

Nevertheless, that was something he would worry about in the morning. Right now he was hungry, he was thirsty, and by checking out the other inns in the area, he just might learn a few things. About the festival. About the missing women. And even perhaps about those ridiculous rebels.

Five minutes saw him changed into a plain leather vest and snug black pants with matching boots, a dagger in his belt, and his sword shoved under the bed. A minute after that he was downstairs in the inn's main room, taking in the tantalizing aromas of good food and wine. Every table was occupied, the conversation close to boisterous, but he didn't mind. He stood at the bar, accepted a full goblet from a giggling Orena, and leaned back to see whom he might join to hear a little gossip.

That didn't take long, either.

Luck had decided to bless him tonight.

In the back corner was a table for four. Three women without escorts were seated around it, and as he watched he noticed how easily they fended off the occasional man who attempted to join them. Unlike the rest of the room, they were definitely not in a party mood.

He sipped, waited, and finally made his way over.

The women looked up, scowling and muttering.

Iolaus simply smiled.

"Well, well, well," he said pleasantly. "Mind if I sit down, Venitia?"

She was gorgeous.

Gone was the eye patch and tatty rebel clothes, replaced by a dress that was, he thought happily, just this side of being labeled illegal. Her blond hair was brushed back from her ears and fell in curly waves to the middle of her spine. Around her throat she wore a necklace of shells and false gems, and on her left wrist was a simple, thin gold bracelet.

He didn't wait for her answer; by the stunned look on her face, it would have taken forever anyway. He dragged a chair over and sat to her left, toasted them all with his goblet, and watched them carefully as he drank. The woman on his left—short dark hair, tiny dark eyes, very thin, a dress the cousin of Venitia's—

avoided his gaze by tracing the tabletop's grain with her thumb; the woman opposite him—long black hair braided around her skull, green eyes, a high-necked dress trimmed in white fur—only nodded to him stiffly, her thin lips drawn tight.

"What do you want?" Venitia at last demanded hoarsely.

He set the goblet down. "I don't know. A pleasant meal. Pleasant company. A few answers to some silly questions. Nothing much."

"Silly questions?" She leaned close, eyes narrowed. "What silly questions?"

"Gee, I don't know," he said again. "Like ... oh ... I don't know .. . like, what in the gods' names are you three doing in here when half the city guards are hunting for you to throw you into prison for the rest of your lives, if they don't draw and quarter you first and feed you to the fish? Are you out of your damn minds?" He shrugged. "Like that."

Venitia blinked so rapidly, Iolaus was reminded of Orena. He shuddered, and drank quickly before he did something stupid.

"Well?" he asked mildly.

"We don't have to talk to you," said the short-haired woman.

"Oh, hush, Bea," Venitia said without looking at her. "He probably knows already anyway."

Bea closed her eyes in resignation. "Nuts."

"We could kill him," the third woman suggested. "Who'd know? Who'd care?"

"He's a judge, Zarel," Venitia snapped in disgust. "Use your head, okay?"

Bea recommended leaving immediately.

Zarel figured they could kill him and no one would notice because the city would be on fire from the rebel attack in the morning, so who'd care anyway.

Iolaus picked up his goblet again, realized it was empty, and waved it over his head. In seconds a barmaid hovered at the table, ignoring the complaints of those patrons who'd been waiting forever for her attention.

"Have you eaten?" he asked the three women. He could tell from their expressions that they had not, and so he ordered meals all around, wine all around, and would have gone so far as to suggest a private room had he not abruptly remembered Zarel's unnerving blood lust.

This will do just as well, he decided. For one thing, there were plenty of witnesses.

When the barmaid left, Venitia leaned close again. "Don't think this puts us in your debt, you scum."

"Don't do that," he said, staring at her forehead.

She frowned. "Do what?"

"What you're doing."

Her frown deepened. "What am I doing?"

He tried to pantomime the disconcerting effect her leaning forward produced, smiled weakly, and finally made a point to stare hard and briefly at her cleavage.

Bea giggled.

Zarel said, "Pig," and rolled her eyes in revulsion.

Once she understood, Venitia blushed so vividly her freckles vanished and he thought she would pass out. But she did sit up while her hands fluttered to her chest, flew away, fluttered back, dropped to the table, fluttered back, and finally dove into her lap, where they clenched each other until her knuckles turned white.

For his part, Iolaus made a great show of waiting for the barmaid, practically leaping to his feet in relief when she returned with plates heaped with bread and steaming food. "Be my guest," he said expansively.

When they didn't move, he sat and added, "The council's paying for it."

The magic words.

They ate, they drank, and they ignored him completely until at last he tapped Venitia on the shoulder.

"What?" she said, practically yelling.

Keeping his voice as friendly as possible, he said, "No offense, but you're all fakes, aren't you? This rebel stuff is a crock." When they rose as one to leave, he tightened his voice and said, "Sit. Down."

They did.

Then he folded his arms on the table and lowered his head slightly to indicate a conversation not meant to be overheard. To their credit, they didn't argue.

"You can claim these clothes are disguises," he said, "but they're not; you're too used to them. I'm guessing it's the other way around, right?"

No answers; he didn't need them.

"I'm also guessing that you're not really rebels, and there'll be no attack in the morning. I mean"— he raised his voice to cut off Zarel's heated protest— "not in the sense that you're out to overthrow the government, burn the city down, and make life better for all those poor, oppressed peasants I saw dancing in the streets today. What I don't know is why."

"Guess," Zarel sneered.

Bea sighed. "You're right," she confessed.

"Oh, great." Zarel sat back angrily and folded her arms across her chest. "Just great."

"But he knows," Bea protested.

"He didn't know, you stupid cow. He was guessing!"

"Well, he said he was guessing, but he wasn't. Not really. He was more thinking out loud, kind of.

Wondering, you know?"

Zarel closed her eyes.

Venitia, who hadn't taken her gaze off Iolaus' face, squeaked, "Are you married?"

"Gods and demons!" Zarel exploded. She jumped to her feet, her hands in fists. "Are you two crazy?

Don't you see what he's doing? Don't... don't.. . oh, the hell with it." With a look that demanded they follow without question, she stomped out of the inn, although not before decking a drunk who tried to paw at her behind.

Bea rose more slowly. "I'm sorry," she said. "She has a temper, you know? It's like a thing with her, you see. A flaw. I'd better go with her; otherwise she'll cut someone's throat and it'll take hours to get her out of jail again."

Iolaus waited until they were alone before he looked at Venitia. "Again?"

"You're not married?"

"That woman has killed people before?" Iolaus asked.

Venitia looked crestfallen. "Oh. You are married."

I'm in one of Herc's dreams, he thought wildly; that's what this is—a Hercules dream.

He forced himself to breathe deeply and slowly several times. Then he took Venitia's hands in his and squeezed them just enough to make her shake her head. And smile.

"Sorry," she said. "I don't know what got into me.

"It's my curse and my charm," he told her.

She laughed, and didn't pull away. "Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, she has killed before, but her father's so rich, it doesn't matter as long as she does it to someone who doesn't matter. And you're right about us." She hesitated, moistening her lips nervously. "I... I'm not sure."

"Look," he said, holding up a finger, "Hercules and 1 already know you're not rebels, so you're not talking out of turn. Believe me, we've been up against the real thing more times than I care to remember.

But," he added when he noticed the distressed look on her face, "we're not going to turn you in, either. We also know something's not right around here, and if you need help, we'll be glad to give it."

She touched his nose with a finger. "You're cute."

Oh, boy, he thought; oh . . . boy.

"It's a short story, though," she said.

And leaned toward him.

Without blushing.

Iolaus swallowed. "Stretch it," he suggested. "I've got all night."

Her gaze wandered over his face while her expression told him that she was inwardly debating. A moral dilemma. When she finally made her decision, she did so with a deep breath that had him gasping once, blinking twice, and reaching hastily for his goblet.

"I'm going to tell you about Klothon," she announced.

Iolaus was baffled. "What? Who's that?"

"Not a who. It's a what."

"What?"

She nodded.

He took a drink, lifted a finger, and said, carefully, "What?"

"Yes."

"Yes ... what?"

She frowned. "Right. What."

"What what?"

"Huh?"

He took another drink. A long one this time, and waved the goblet for a refill. While he waited he ran through the conversation again, as slowly as he could. Without looking at her.

It worked.

"Klothon isn't a who," he concluded. "It's a what."

"That's what I said."

"Okay. And what, exactly, is it?"

"Well, for one thing, if you don't leave before the queen is crowned, it's the thing that's going to kill you."

Hercules woke to the sound of laughter in the street, and the distant heralding of trumpets. For a second he could not recall where he was, could recall only the night spent by the ocean. When he did at last get his bearings, he sat up with a muffled groan, rubbed his eyes, looked around the room blearily, and nearly fell back again when he saw someone slumped in his chair.

Iolaus, his eyes closed, moaned, hands pressed to his head, legs outstretched.

"Good morning," Hercules said as he reached his arms over his head.

"Don't yell. I can hear you."

Hercules lowered his voice, but couldn't help a grin. "Hard night?"

Iolaus nodded, moaned, and let one hand fall wearily to the armrest. His eyes didn't open.
"
I spent practically the whole night here. All in the line of duty, I want you to know."

"I'm sure it was."

Iolaus grunted, knowing his friend didn't believe him. ' 'As a matter of fact, while you were out doing .

.. whatever ... I was talking to some of our so-called rebels. The three women we saw in the cave."

Hercules lifted an eyebrow. "Really?"

Iolaus made a face. "Yes. Really. You want to know what 1 found out?"

Hercules stretched again and yawned loudly. "Sure, why not?"

"Well, for one thing, they're not really rebels''

Hercules nodded. "We figured that one right.*'

"Yeah, but what we didn't figure is that they're being paid by someone to make trouble. It isn't much, but they're not rich. They could use the dinars. Venitia doesn't know who the money man is, but that Rotus guy probably does since he's the one who hands it out."

Hercules wasn't really surprised. From what the fake rebels and Holix had said, he already suspected Titus Perical was somehow behind it. Stirring up the political pot, he pointed out, was an easy way to stay in power until he didn't want to stay in power any longer. Especially since he didn't seem to be that terrible a ruler.

"That's what she said," Iolaus confirmed. "Do you have any idea how much wine a little woman like that can drink?'

"Nope."

"It's disgusting. It was all I could do to keep up with her."

Hercules pushed back on the bed and leaned against the wall, the window over his left shoulder. Street sounds increased as the city continued to awaken, and the tinted light slipping into the room told him there was probably haze in the sky. Iolaus, however, was too hungover to notice much of anything. It figured that with the entire rebel band undoubtedly roaming the city, he would be the one to happen upon the women. It also figured that with his kind of luck, they would be able to outlast him in a drinking contest.