CHAPTER 8

"He lied to save me."

It was the first time Eve had spoken since the trial.

Xena, who had been combing her daughter's hair, still slightly damp from her bath, paused and exchanged a quick glance with Gabrielle; then her hand moved again, drawing the wooden comb through Eve's brown tresses in long mechanical strokes. She had suspected as much; something told her that Ares wasn't lying that morning by the brook when she asked him if the things he had said about Eve were true. She didn't want to think about what it meant to her that he told the truth. My daughter did this…

Eve twisted the long wide sleeve of her robe and gave a short, almost shrieking laugh.

"He must have really wanted to impress you."

The words cut deep. How had it not occurred to her before that Eve could be … well, jealous? She had been so quick to assume that whatever feelings Eve might have had for Ares had been Livia's feelings -- as gone, as dead as Livia herself. But it was still Eve who lived with the knowledge that she had been dropped without a second thought, for her own mother. Yet another reason this thing between her and Ares should never have happened. Only it was too late to think about that.

All she could say was a soft, pleading, "Eve…"

Then Eve turned her head up, her face suddenly earnest, and all of Xena's concern about her daughter's feelings was swept aside for something more immediate: Eve wasn't out of danger yet -- she was about to put herself right back into it.

"I have to tell the truth," she said.

"No." Throwing the comb aside, Xena came around to stand in front of Eve. "You are not doing this."

"Yes, I am." She began to rise from her chair, but Xena grabbed her shoulders, pushing her down.

"I said, no."

Eve's eyes flared, and at that moment Xena could see her own fire in those eyes. Her fire, her guilt… what a strange legacy to pass on to her daughter.

"You forget, Mother -- it's my life. It's my death. It's my choice."

"No, you forget." You forget that I already lost one child and I am not going to lose another, no matter what. "I am your mother -- I would die before I'd let them touch a hair on your head."

"You can't protect me forever. I'm not a child."

"You're my child." And I wasn't there to protect you when you were small. "I'll protect you as long as I can."

"By letting -- someone else die for my crime."

"He's not going to die," Xena said vehemently. She got down on her knees and grabbed Eve's hands almost violently. "Eve, listen to me. Nothing you say or do is going to make any difference to Ares. You go in and confess right now, and Varia will have you both killed if she can. She wants to go down in history as the Amazon queen who executed Ares, God of War -- you think she'll stop just because you tell her that it wasn't Ares who ordered the Amazons thrown overboard? Even without that, they had enough to sentence him to death. You go in there and hand yourself over to Varia, and I'll ... Gabrielle and I will have to worry about saving two people instead of one."

"He's not going to die, Eve." Gabrielle, who had been busy making dinner -- either because Eve hadn't had a decent meal in weeks, or because she wanted to keep her mind off other things ‑- finally spoke up. "I'm going to fight Varia."

Xena's heart gave a guilty wobble: In her anxiety about Eve, she had almost forgotten about this. As if she hadn't pushed Gabrielle far enough…

"You don't have to do it," she said softly, trying her best to mean it.

"Yes, I do."

"Gabrielle -- I could find some other way. After everything that -- "

"Let's not talk about it anymore, okay?" Gabrielle got a tray of baked apples out of the oven and winced a bit, maybe because the tray was hot. "I'll do it."

Eve lowered her head and sighed, her resistance wilting. When she spoke again, it was in a quiet, hollow voice.

"So you're going to cover up a lie to save me."

Gabrielle put the tray down with a bang. Eve jerked her head up, and Xena threw a sharp look back at Gabrielle, who pursed her lips and turned away.

"Eve." This time, she held her daughter's hands gently, the way she wished she could have done years ago. "There is no justice in what they're doing."

"Why shouldn't I pay for my crimes?"

"How can you pay for anything if you're dead? You can do so much more good alive... If you lead that mission to Rome, and bring home the Amazons you enslaved -- then you'll pay them back." She squinted, fighting the tears. "Listen to me, Eve -- I've always believed that no matter what someone has done, they can still turn their life around -- and they deserve a chance if they do. Do you think I'm going to make an exception for my own daughter?" She reached up and cupped Eve's chin. "Trust me on this one, okay?"

Eve sighed again and nodded, blinking a little. Then her face crumpled and she started to cry, slumping into Xena's arms, dropping her head on her shoulder.

"I love you ... Mother," she mumbled through big childlike sobs.

"Shh ... I love you too." Xena stroked Eve's fluffed hair and kissed the top of her head. "I love you too. It's going to be all right."

* ~ * ~ *

After trying to find a comfortable way to lie down, Ares gave up and sat leaning against the wall, wrapping himself in the thin, worn-out blanket. In the near-darkness, which the checkered square of moonlight on the floor did little to dispel, he groped awkwardly for the jug of water and drank the little that was left. He was getting hungry again, but it was better to endure hunger and thirst than to ask the guards for anything. It was already bad enough to sit in this stinking jail, weaponless and chained, waiting for his girlfriend to rescue him. Of course, it was even worse to think that she might not rescue him and... He shuddered and clutched tighter at the blanket, acutely aware of every discomfort of his mortal flesh: the gnawing emptiness in his stomach, the stiffness in his legs, the hard lumps in the pallet under him, the stale and slightly acrid smell invading his nostrils, the chill of the night. His wrists were sore from the manacles, a heavy numbness seeping into his hands.

In his very long existence, he'd seen plenty of executions. He used to observe, with a detached disappointment, how some of the bravest warriors could falter when having to face the executioner's sword or rope, and disgrace themselves in their final moments -- put up a futile struggle, or blubber like children, or lose control of their legs -- or, worse yet, piss on themselves or ... his mouth tightened in disgust. He reached for the jug again and realized that his hands were shaking.

Not like this -- please, not like this. Let me die in battle, with a sword in my hands -- with her at my side. She would cradle him in her lap, a single tear rolling down her cheek, and wipe the trickle of blood from his mouth and claim his last breath in a long, sweet kiss ... Then, as if in mockery, his mind filled with far less glorious images of death in battle. As if he, of all people, didn't know how ugly it could be... With his luck, he'd probably end up with his guts ripped out or half his head smashed to a pulp. Throwing off the blanket, he got up abruptly, the floorboards creaking fretfully under his boots, and stalked to the window to take a few gulps of fresh air, as if to reassure himself that he was still alive. The stars winked at him, as chilly and distant as his former fellow gods.

Gods... It occurred to him that he could try calling on Aphrodite. Maybe she'd hear him... But no, he hadn't sunk that low, not yet. Even having Blondie save him would be less humiliating.

To think that once, not so long ago, he had been safe from ever having to worry about such things -- and he'd given it up, because ... well, because the thought of a world without Xena in it was unbearable. What if he'd had time to think about the consequences, back then? Would he do it over again? Ares lifted a hand to wipe the sweat that had broken out on his forehead; he had forgotten about the manacles for the moment, and flinched back when the chain hit him in the face. He wandered back to the pallet and slumped down. He tried to think of the night he'd spent with her in Megara, the feel of her kisses, the firm yet pliant warmth of her body in his embrace, the way she held his face in her hands -- only to have his imagination conjure up a vision of Xena holding his severed head. When the painful dry convulsions in his throat subsided, he thought that maybe he should ask the guards for some water after all.

Dammit -- snap out of it. He wasn't going to die. Amazon law allowed a challenger to fight the queen for the life of the condemned; Xena could kick Varia's ass five times over before breakfast. The memory of Gascar's taunt stirred in his mind, making him wince: Even if you survive, you'll never be anything more than a pathetic loser -- relying on Xena to bail you out... So he'd have to depend on her to save him, yet again; but he'd be alive, and with her, and after a few good fights he'd be able to get the bad taste of his present helplessness out of his mouth.

Taking a few deep breaths, Ares lay down again and pulled the blanket over himself. He wasn't sure how much time had passed before he heard voices outside. Her voice.

He sat up. Oh thank -- whoever.

The bolts screeched heavily, and the door swung open with a groan, and there she was. She walked toward him, holding up a lantern; its light gave her dark hair a soft golden shine and made her eyes glitter. She squatted in front of him and said, "Hey..." -- and he knew he'd do it all over again.

Putting down the lantern and the basket she carried in her other hand, Xena reached out to stroke his face, and he touched his lips to her wrist. Through half-veiled eyes, he watched her lean forward, and waited to lose himself in her kiss; but instead she pressed her cheek to his and rested like that for a moment, holding his hands, and only then tilted her head and kissed him.

When she pulled back, she said, her voice almost casual, "Here, I got you some bread and cheese and wine..."

She sat down next to him on the edge of the pallet. As he ate, Ares felt Xena's eyes on him and caught himself wondering if he looked completely pathetic -- his hands hampered by the chains, his hair messed up from all that tossing and turning, bits of straw from the pallet stuck to his vest and probably to his hair and beard, too. He glanced cautiously at Xena and saw the look on her face -- not pitying but thoughtful, almost puzzled.

"What?"

"Why did you do it?" she asked quietly.

He took another bite of bread, then sipped from the wineskin. "Do what?"

"Take the blame for Eve."

He eyed her curiously. "What makes you so sure I didn't give those orders?"

Xena looked away. "Eve told me." Her voice was so low he could barely hear her. "Besides -- it isn't -- wasn't your style."

Why did he do it ... he hadn't thought about it, really. It had just felt like the thing to do at the moment. Maybe it was as simple as seeing the excruciating pain in Xena's eyes, the same pain that had been there when she was looking at those crosses in the Elijan village, and wanting to make it go away. Maybe a part of him felt that he was responsible, having goaded Livia to go after the Amazons... What in Tartarus was that -- Xena's guilt complex rubbing off on him?

He leaned over to nuzzle her shoulder, and then looked up at her and grinned.

"Maybe I just wanted to surprise my girl."

She shook her head, smiling, her eyes shiny.

"Besides, it's not so bad," he said. "Hey, I'm kinda looking forward to watching you kick the crap out of Varia."

Her smile withered, and something in her face gave him a chill.

"What's wrong?"

"Not me," she said. "Gabrielle."

Ares stared in disbelief.

"Please tell me you're joking."

Xena slowly shook her head, keeping her eyes on his.

"Under Amazon law, only an Amazon can challenge a death sentence by fighting the queen. It wasn't this way before -- but it is now. Ares" -- she put her hand on his shoulder -- "I wanted to fight Varia as Gabrielle's champion, but they wouldn't let me. So Gabrielle will fight her instead."

His dismay must have registered fully in his features, because Xena gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"Don't worry. You've seen Gabrielle fight. You know she's good."

Yes, she was -- but ... but somehow, hearing this news had felt like listening to his death sentence all over again. His and Xena's twin shadows swayed on the walls, huge and black, a pair of mocking ghosts; the dankness of the jail was settling into his bones. Ares grabbed the wineskin and raised it to his mouth, but his hands jerked violently, making his manacles clang and spilling the dark red liquid on his chest.

"Damn," he muttered hoarsely, trying to stop his teeth from chattering.

"It's okay." Xena turned toward him and put her hands on his arms. "You'll be okay."

"Xena -- dammit..." He lowered his head, trying to steady his breath. Something wet fell on his hand, and for one awful moment he thought he was crying ... no, it was a drop of sweat. "Xena..." He wanted to say something but the only words that came to mind sounded -- well, they sounded irritatingly like things most likely to be said by Gabrielle. Xena -- there's so much I haven't told you yet... Xena -- this time with you has been the only time I've been really alive...

He picked up the wineskin, and this time managed to keep his hand firm and take a few sips -- and then, turning to Xena again, to shape his mouth into something like a smile.

"Well -- we had a good run..."

"Don't." Her eyes were suddenly hard, her grip on his arm so tight that it hurt. "Don't you dare give up. I won't let anyone kill you. I promise. Anyone."

The ferocity in Xena's voice snapped him out of his misery; not so much because he was entirely reassured about his chances for survival, but because he had picked up the part she had left unspoken: You're mine. Ares nodded, and watched her face melt back into tenderness.

"I promise." This time, her voice was soft. "You'll be okay."

She knelt behind him and hugged him, folding her arms around his neck. Ares leaned back, breathing her in, resting his head on her shoulder; as she ran her palm over his chest, wiping off the spilled wine, he was pierced by an acute, hot shudder of desire that made him moan aloud. Awkwardly twisting his body around, he pressed his face to her neck -- gods, how maddening not to be able to take her in his arms -- and hungrily kissed the soft skin, then trailed his lips higher, shutting his eyes. She opened her lips to his kiss and held him close; but as his tongue moved inside her mouth and his hands fumbled at her thighs, he felt her tense slightly and knew that they were not going to make love, not in this filthy jail with the guards just outside -- not when it would feel like a last, hopeless good-bye.

He drew back, catching his breath. Xena's mouth creased as if she were on the verge of either tears or a smile; finally she smiled, running her fingertips across his cheek. Then she put her palms on his shoulders and pushed him down gently until he was lying on his back, and moved around so that his head would rest in her lap.

"Get some sleep," she whispered.

He closed his eyes again, and felt the touch of her lips on his eyelids, one then the other. He didn't think he could sleep, not with his body still aching for her, not with worry about his possible doom still burrowing about his mind; but eventually the warmth of her hand on his forehead began to soothe him, making his jumbled thoughts dissolve into an almost peaceful haze.

Xena watched as his face relaxed, his eyelashes fluttering softly, his breath growing calm. After a while she whispered, "Ares"; he sighed but didn't move. She sat there a bit longer, and then tasted something salty on her lips. With a start, she lifted a hand to her cheek and realized it was wet. She jerked her fingers away. Get a grip; you just lashed out at him for giving up, and now you're going to sit here crying? There was no time to mope; she had to think of a backup plan in case Gabrielle lost to Varia.

Very carefully, she lifted Ares' head up, laid him down on the pallet and pulled the blanket over him. Then she got up and tiptoed toward the door, leaving the lantern on the floor by the pallet.

The Amazon who let her out made to slam the door, but Xena's hand shot out to catch her wrist.

"Don't wake him."

The guard snorted and glared at her; Xena glared back, and the woman shrugged peevishly and closed the door as quietly as it could be closed. When Xena looked in through the small window, Ares was still asleep.

* ~ * ~ *

"Why are you doing this?"

Gabrielle flinched a little and bit her lip. She had expected this question when she went to see Varia, but she still had trouble answering it.

She fidgeted in her bearskin-covered chair, looking uneasily around the queen's hut. It was austere and sparsely furnished, the feathered Amazon masks on the wall and a few trophy weapons the only decorations, unless one counted a motley beaded curtain that separated the private quarters. The sun was bright outside, a slanted beam of silvery-white mist leaving a bleached patch on the brown rug on the floor. Gabrielle could hear the usual sounds of morning in the village: the squealing children, the teenage girls chattering and laughing at the well, the splash of water and the clang of the bucket and chain; and, in the distance, the shouts and grunts of warriors doing their exercises.

Shifting her eyes back to Varia, Gabrielle wondered vaguely why she had come here. To try to talk Varia out of the fight and the execution, of course... as if there was any hope of that.

The prospect of the fight unnerved her, and not because she doubted her skills. She had been awake most of the night, dozing off fitfully a few times. After Eve had fallen asleep, Xena had gone off with a curt "I'll be back," taking a food basket and a wineskin with her. There was, of course, no need to ask where she was headed. Lying in the dark under too-heavy fur covers, watching as the shimmering embers in the hearth melted slowly into black, she was past caring what Xena did with Ares in that jail. There was too much else, too much... She had lied ... or at least helped cover up a lie ... to protect Eve. No, lied -- to her own people. On top of that, she was going to fight Varia, her queen, for the life of Xena's lover, for the life of the man who was ruining her life. It couldn't get much worse than that.

Then Xena came back, and it was worse. She undressed quietly and lay down on the pelts that served as their bedding, and as they lay next to each other, Xena on her back, Gabrielle on her side with her back to Xena, the silence between them thickened into something almost palpable, a hard thing pushing them apart. After a few moments Xena turned, and Gabrielle thought she could sense her hand move closer; a clammy panic enveloped her at the thought that Xena was going to wrap an arm around her, or even touch her, and she wouldn't be able to keep from flinching. Finally the furs rustled softly and Xena turned away, settling on her side.

They had barely spoken or even looked at each other since the trial -- except for a brief moment while Eve was taking her bath, when Gabrielle frantically began to explain why she had voted guilty, and Xena nodded, staring intensely at her boots.

And now she was sitting here with Varia, meeting her expectant, irritated stare.

She couldn't possibly explain why she had to fight for Ares. She couldn't tell the truth about Eve; she couldn't say that if Ares died for Xena's daughter, he would divide them in death more than he ever had alive; nor could she give voice to her fears about how far Xena would go to protect Ares. There was only one thing she could say, and she made herself say it.

"Varia, he saved my life." She paused, and knew she couldn't leave it at that. "He gave up his godhood to save -- Xena and me." It was best not to mention Eve.

Varia's eyes narrowed warily.

"Why?"

"What does it matter?" The passion in her own voice shocked her. "We owe him our lives. I can't let him die."

"I suppose it was because he has a thing for Xena, wasn't it." Varia snorted. "And for that -- you're willing to overlook all his crimes against our people."

"Varia... It's -- it's not the same for gods. To them, mortal lives are -- like toys. You can't really judge him for that ... not now that he's mortal." She almost believed it, too.

"You and Xena -- you've got a good excuse for everything, don't you," Varia said. "Livia isn't what she was, Ares isn't what he was... I have to watch half of my tribe being slaughtered, and when I get a chance to avenge them -- you tell me that those who did it don't exist anymore. Oh, they're not dead -- just different." She shook her head with a bitter smirk. "I wish they'd changed before they did what they did to us."

"But don't you see ... vengeance changes nothing."

"It does for me. A warrior can't just let it rest, Gabrielle." She paused and looked away, her voice suddenly hushed. "I could have changed it all."

"What do you mean?"

"When -- " Varia's voice broke off and she was silent for a moment. "When Livia's troops overran my village, my sister and I were out scouting." She looked turned her head to face Gabrielle again, her face soft and hesitant. "When we came back, the battle was raging, and the Romans didn't see us. I was able to sneak up on Livia from behind, with a sword in my hand. I had the perfect chance." Her voice hardened. "I could have rid the world of Livia. But it was my first battle -- I had never killed before. And so I hesitated -- long enough for her to turn around. I'll never forget the look in her eyes."

Gabrielle shuddered inwardly. Rid the world of Livia ... Eve ... Eve would have been dead. She didn't want to ask herself how that made her feel.

"I thought she was going to kill me," Varia went on. "Just then, Tura screamed and rushed toward me, and Livia ... Livia ran her through." She was silent again, a faraway look in her eyes, her fingers going toward a beaded bracelet on her left wrist.

Her throat tightening, Gabrielle forced herself to keep her eyes on Varia's.

"And you?" she asked in a small voice.

"I was knocked out and left behind. Maybe she left me for dead; maybe she thought it would be worse for me to live with the memory. To live knowing that if I had killed Livia, I would still have my tribe and my sister." She rose from her chair, walked to the window and stood still for a moment, looking out. Then she turned, her face now cold and set in determination. "I can't undo the past. But we can redeem it with justice."

Gabrielle got up as well. There was no point in arguing with Varia about justice; it was, she realized, as much about Varia's own guilt as about Ares' or Eve's.

"Varia," she said gently, "it wasn't your fault."

Varia thrust out her chin. "You're right, it wasn't my fault. It was hers. His."

"Then stop blaming yourself..."

Gabrielle thought she saw the queen's dark eyes soften; but perhaps she had only imagined it, because in the same instant Varia raised a hand, cutting her off.

"No, you stop wasting my time. Why don't you go get ready for the fight." Her lips twisted in mockery. "See you at noon."

With a curt nod, she walked toward the curtain, signaling that the conversation was over.

"Varia!" Gabrielle called out.

Varia stopped and gave an exasperated sigh. "What now?"

"I wanted to say that I'm not fighting for your queenship ... just -- his life."

Varia gave her a pitying look, and then turned and disappeared behind the curtain.

A moment later Gabrielle stepped outside, raising her hand toward her face as the sunlight slashed at her eyes. Two coltish, still baby-faced girls who were walking away from the well, water spilling from their buckets and leaving a dark trail in the dust, stopped and gaped at her; one whispered something to the other, probably about her upcoming contest with Varia. Gabrielle's eyes slid over them blankly. She felt no disappointment -- she hadn't had much hope for a different outcome -- only an expected, dull sadness.

There was less than two hours left until noon.

Bracing herself for her next conversation, she headed toward the jail.

When they let her in, Ares sat up abruptly on the pallet by the wall, his face scrunched up as daylight flooded the cabin for a moment before the door closed again. After a night in jail, he looked nearly as shabby as his surroundings.

"Oh it's you," he said, his voice ragged. She realized that when the door opened, his first thought had been that they had come for him.

"Yeah." She walked toward him, twitching her nose at the smell of this place, and sat down on the floor. She wasn't quite sure how to start, and finally asked, "So -- how are you?"

He snorted. "Ask me again in a couple of hours."

Her cheeks burning at the stupidity of her own question, she looked down at the grimy floor and sighed. "Ares ... it was very brave and unselfish -- what you did."

"I can't tell you how much that means to me." Then, his habitual sarcastic expression turned to an almost sheepish one. "Look, I, uh -- " he squirmed a bit -- "I do appreciate what you're -- you know -- "

She smiled in spite of herself.

"What would it take for you to actually thank me?"

"Let me get back to you on that."

The next part was going to be difficult.

"Ares, if I win... I want to ask you to do something -- for me."

After a short pause, he asked warily, "What?"

"I want you to promise me that when it's over -- you'll go away."

Gabrielle forced herself to look at him. His look of open-mouthed shock darkened into a scowl.

"Go away," he repeated.

"Leave us alone." She paused and added, "I can't go on like this anymore," and then wanted to kick herself -- why did she have to explain herself to him at all? "Listen" -- she looked away again, a pleading note creeping into her voice -- "if you want to see her sometimes, I -- "

A strange sound jolted her, a clap accompanied by a metallic jangle. With a start, she turned her head and watched as Ares slowly applauded her, each clank of his chains making her flinch.

"Congratulations."

"What -- "

"You've learned to play hardball. You know," he added with a crooked grin, "there was a time when, if you had been my student, I would have been very proud."

She felt the blood rush to her face again, the heat spreading to her neck. "What are you talking about?"

"That little offer you just made me. I promise to clear out, you make sure my head stays attached to my shoulders."

"It's not like that! I already challenged Varia... Ares -- dammit -- I'm just asking you!"

"And what if I say no? You could always lose, right? Listen, kiddo, you don't have to tell me how the game is played."

Gabrielle was silent, her mind whirling. She hadn't meant it that way, really she hadn't, couldn't have -- and yet she was taking advantage of his predicament -- there was no denying that.

"Anyway, the answer is no. You're not getting rid of me that easily."

The bastard -- when she was going against her own people to save him...

"Maybe I could always lose," she snapped. By the time she regretted those words, it was too late.

"I suppose you could. And then Xena could get a little upset and do quite a number on your beloved Amazons. Or you could stand by and watch them lop my head off, knowing that you let me die just because you wanted to have your girlfriend all to yourself ... oh, and to save little Evie, of course." The corner of his mouth twitched into a nasty little smirk. "Ready to live with that? Here's a free tip. If you're going to blackmail someone, you'd better be prepared to make good on your threat -- 'cause, see, I don't believe you are. And even if I did..." He shrugged, the look in his eyes suddenly grave and distant. "Forget it, Gabrielle. I'm not leaving."

Gabrielle felt an overpowering surge of disgust; whether at herself or at him, she wasn't sure. She scrambled to her feet.

"You know," she said in a near-whisper, "I didn't want it to be like this."

He gave her a bitter, mocking look. "You think I did?"

She walked briskly to the door and banged on it so the guards would let her out. As the door swung open with a loud angry noise, she glanced back at Ares and saw him grab the wineskin next to the pallet. Their eyes met again, and for one unmasked moment she saw how scared he was. Like a fool, she felt sorry for him.

She shouldn't have come here, she thought. It was as useless as talking to Varia.

Behind her, the door slammed shut. Gabrielle stood still for a moment, wincing a little at the bright blue sky, ignoring the curious stares of the guards. Ares was left behind that door, locked up and sentenced to death, yet she was the one feeling trapped.

* ~ * ~ *

They marched him past the silent crowd, under the stares of hundreds of curious eyes.    Back in the jail, the Amazons who had come to get him had freed him from the shackles, rather to his bewilderment, but only to yank off his vest -- it took Ares a few moments to realize, with a sickening chill, that this was done to expose his neck -- and tie his hands behind his back.

As they approached the platform, where Varia stood next to a wooden block with a long sword propped up against it, Ares saw Xena in the front of the crowd. Eve was there too; she shuddered when she saw him, and visibly fought the impulse to avoid his eyes. Xena's face was rigidly impassive, just as he had expected. He tried to smile at her but wasn't sure he managed anything other than a grimace. Then he saw Gabrielle, standing in a clear space in front of the platform next to a large yellow-and-blue circular mat. She looked like someone about to get her ass kicked. Dammit, he should have trained the girl when he had a chance.

His eyes shifted back to the platform, to the grey block and the sword gleaming painfully in the sun. The solid, inescapable reality of these objects suddenly made Xena's impassioned words the night before -- I won't let anyone kill you -- sound like ... words. These could be the last things he'd ever see in this world: this crowd of women hungry for his blood; the tops of the huts behind them, their thatched grey roofs almost white in the sun; the stupid statue of a dead goddess with its skin painted a gaudy pink and its hair a bright coppery brown. It was enough to make his knees feel weak and his mouth go dry; when he tried to swallow, his throat clenched in a spasm. Steady. Steady. He managed not to stumble as they hustled him up the steps to the platform.

"On his knees," Varia commanded quietly. The two women at his sides pushed him down, and he couldn't help grunting with pain as his knees slammed into the wooden boards. He looked up at Xena and saw her jaw quiver.

"Amazons!" Varia's voice rang clear through the crowded square. "This man -- Ares, the former God of War -- has betrayed our trust and committed crimes against our nation. He is responsible for the slaughter of hundreds of our sisters. Today, justice will be ours." She paused. "To a strong Amazon Nation!"

To a strong Amazon nation. Gabrielle's lips moved soundlessly as a disjointed chorus echoed the pledge.

She dared not look at Ares, or at Xena. She now knew for certain that Xena had a backup plan in case she failed; she wasn't sure if this made her feel better or worse.

Earlier, when Gabrielle had returned to their hut after seeing Ares, they had talked about her conversation with Varia; and then Xena put her hands on her shoulders, looking at her with a familiar, agonizing, timid tenderness, and said, "Good luck, Gabrielle" --- and, even more quietly, "Thank you." Gabrielle's "I love you" froze in her throat; she nodded, trying her best to smile, and managed a strained "It's going to be okay." Then Xena's expression turned almost businesslike. "If you lose -- be prepared to get out fast. I'll have the horses ready." Gabrielle stared at her, horrified, and finally asked what she was going to do. "Get him out," Xena said briskly. "I promise no one's going to get hurt, okay?" So there was a plan; but when Gabrielle pressed Xena to tell her what it was, she hesitated, and just then Eve came in, and Xena shot Gabrielle a warning look and said again, "Good luck."

So this plan involved something of which Eve would disapprove... well, Eve, in her present state, would disapprove of anything that meant flouting Amazon law.

"As our law allows," Varia continued, an unmistakably sarcastic note entering her voice, "a challenger has come forward to defend this man -- one of our own queens, Gabrielle." As murmurs welled up in the crowd, she pointed to Gabrielle, who, at that moment, would rather have been in the deepest pit of hell. "If she wins, Ares receives my pardon and is free to go. If I win" -- she tapped on the hilt of the sword -- "I carry out the sentence."

She came down from the platform and walked to the circle where Gabrielle stood waiting. Then she turned toward the two Amazons standing next to Ares and added, "Blindfold him."

The words knocked the breath out of him -- and, at least for a moment, the hope. That's it. Now it really felt like the end. The thought flashed through his mind that he was going to miss his last chance to see a good fight. Xena -- there she was -- her face tight as if she were about to cry. His heart throbbed violently. The sky -- the sky was blue ... and the pines were such a soft green ... maybe he was losing his mind. A strip of black flashed before his eyes; with a snarl, he wrenched his head away, frantic to get one more glimpse of Xena, and bit down hard on his lip to keep from calling out to her. Then his head was gripped as if in a vise, and the blackness came down over his eyes.

"Let's go!" said Varia's disembodied voice.

There was a harsh "Yah!", and the sound of flesh crashing into flesh, and then a dull thud as somebody went down -- and cheers and shouts of "Varia!" from the crowd. This was not good.

Please, Gabrielle... please. Xena winced as she watched Gabrielle get up and swing at Varia, and watched Varia dodge the blow and kick Gabrielle in the midsection, making her stumble back and nearly fall. The Amazons cheered again -- "Bring it on, Varia!" "Get her!" Gabrielle's next kick connected, but her moves were haphazard and unsure; Varia's punch caught her full in the face, making blood gush from her nose. Gabrielle... Xena closed her eyes for a moment. I'm sorry... Then she looked at Ares and saw him crane his neck, arms straining against his bonds, as he obviously tried to figure out what was happening. She would make it up to him, somehow. She couldn't afford to think about what he was feeling right now, or about how much Gabrielle was hurting; she had to focus on what she had to do next. It had to work. If only she'd had a chance to tell Ares about it...

Next to her, Eve gasped as Gabrielle was knocked down again. Glancing at her daughter, Xena lightly squeezed her arm. If Gabrielle lost and they had to make their getaway, Eve would have to come too -- it wouldn't be safe for her to stay with the Amazons after this. Eve would hate it ... maybe would hate her for it. But there was no other way. She prayed to any god who could hear her that, if things looked bad, Eve wouldn't decide to save Ares by coming forward and making a full confession. All she'd do is get them both killed.

If only she didn't have to go through with this plan... Come on, Gabrielle -- you can do it.

Gabrielle got up and coughed, wiping the blood that dripped down her chin. Her face was burning, every muscle in her body hurt, and she was losing. Would Xena think that she might have lost on purpose? What if Ares -- if he survived -- told her about their conversation? No, he wouldn't do that ... wouldn't run to Xena to complain. But still ... Dammit -- she wished she knew what Xena was planning to do. No one's going to get hurt... Except that Ares could get hurt or killed in the escape ... or Eve ... or Xena ... and it would all be her fault because she let Varia beat her. One way or another, she would lose -- everything.

With a hoarse shout, she blocked Varia's kick. Something dark and ugly and powerful was rising inside her, swelling in her chest, pressing up against her throat; she remembered the prison yard at Mount Amaro, and Xena crawling on the ground, wounded and crippled -- remembered the moment when she picked up the sword, and threw away all the principles of non-violence she held dear, and went at the Roman soldiers, striking them down, hacking and stabbing at human flesh and bone -- for Xena.

Gabrielle spun and kicked, and saw Varia reel as the impact of the blow shot through her own body. She had fought by Xena's side so many times since that terrible day, shed so much blood ... had given up her own way for Xena's love ... had let the violence destroy her slowly from inside ... and for what? To have Xena carry on with Ares under her nose ... to be treated like a meek little fool who'd put up with anything for a few sweet words and tender kisses... like the meek little fool she was. Her hand shot out and she felt the hard slam of fist against face. Damn it all. Her fist flew out again, and Varia staggered and fell back, a look of shock on her bloodied face. More blood ... Varia got up and charged her, and she aimed another kick -- damn Ares for following them here -- for forcing himself into their lives -- for making Xena fall in love with him... Damn herself for being such a fool. Damn Varia for getting in the way as her life was careening to hell like a chariot with the wheels coming off. She wasn't feeling pain anymore; her body had become pure energy, the dark mass inside her driving her on as she hit and kicked and punched, again and again and again and --

"Gabrielle!"

Xena's cry pierced the air, and everything crashed to a halt. She stood still, breathing hard, suddenly aware that every breath was slicing into her throat, that her hands and feet were aching, and that there was blood, a lot of blood, splattered over her neck and chest and hands... She became aware, too, of the now-silent crowd watching her uneasily -- of Varia lying curled up on her side, dark strands of hair spilling on the yellow and blue of the mat that was now dotted with red -- of Xena, her face contorted in horror and pity.

"It's over," Xena said.

Varia stirred and slowly sat up; with a shaky hand, she pushed aside her hair, slick and shiny with blood. There were gasps at the sight of her face, reddened with marks that would later turn purple and blue, one eye swollen almost shut, the mouth a shapeless red splotch, as if she were wearing a very bright, grotesquely smeared rouge.

Xena watched as Gabrielle took a couple of steps toward her, her feet moving stiffly as if of their own accord, and then stopped, her arms hanging at her sides, frowning a little as if trying to figure out what was happening. She looked so small and lost.

Oh, Gabrielle...

She rushed toward Gabrielle and pulled her away, hugging her tightly, stroking the hot sweaty skin of her back, resting Gabrielle's tousled blonde head on her chest. Then she drew back and ran her fingers over Gabrielle's face, wiping off smudges of blood and dust. Gabrielle looked up at her with an almost puzzled expression, and Xena found herself blinking, eyes blurring with tears. She saw another face before her, the bright-eyed face of a funny village girl in a blue dress who said, gesturing rapidly in excitement, "You've got to take me with you... Xena, I'm not cut out for this village life -- I was born to do so much more." And there was another memory: the time they fought the Horde and Gabrielle insisted on giving water to the enemy wounded. You understand hatred but you've never given in to it, Xena had told her then. Maybe that was the moment she had truly fallen in love with Gabrielle... And now, to see her like this -- to see the girl whose light she had wanted so desperately to preserve pummel another human being in frenzied rage ... that was bad enough -- but to know that she had done this to a fellow Amazon -- while fighting for Ares...

Ares.

Oh no...

He was still on his knees -- tied up -- blindfolded -- probably not even knowing who had won --

Her eyes darted over to him. She saw the tension in his body, his chest shaken by hard shallow breaths, his head tilted as if he were trying to pick out, in the cacophony of hushed voices, something that would tell him what was going on.

Gabrielle caught her gaze and sighed.

"I should go and -- talk to Varia," she said, nodding toward the queen as Cyane and Gwyn-Teir helped her to her feet. "I'm all right."

"Gabrielle -- "

"Go on. I'm all right."

Ares strained to listen. He thought he had heard Gabrielle's voice, but he wasn't sure. For a moment, Xena's scream had made him think that Varia had killed the girl, or at least messed her up pretty badly, and the hollow fear he'd felt had turned to a surge of choking terror. The cheering for Varia had stopped sometime before that, but it was hard to tell what that meant; all he could do was listen to the blows -- which sounded, at that point, more like a beating than a fight -- and the grunts and raspy cries. That damn blindfold... He tried to shift a little; his knees hurt and his arms were numb, the rope cutting into his wrists, but at least the pain was a tangible reminder that he was still alive. The fight was clearly over and Varia hadn't stepped up to declare victory ‑- that was a good sign. Where in Tartarus was Xena?

There were steps coming up the platform, getting closer. It sounded like -- Xena -- please let that be you please please --

Something touched his face -- her hand -- yes, that was her hand all right... It felt like his heart was trying to smash through his ribcage. Her fingers tugged at the blindfold, and as it came off the sun nearly blinded him but he made an effort to keep his eyes open. She was kneeling before him, his love, a little misty-eyed and beautiful, beautiful --

"It's over," she said.

He winced, still getting used to the daylight, gasping for breath. "Gabrielle won?"

Her "Yes" was strangely grim, but he wasn't about to puzzle over that. All strength seemed to have drained instantly from his limbs, and he slumped against Xena, dropping his head on her shoulder, shuddering. She drew her arms around him and pressed her lips to his neck.

"You're okay -- " There was a catch in her voice. "You're okay."

Ares' eyes tingled treacherously as she reached down to cut the rope. His arms free at last, he clutched her in an almost convulsive embrace, closing his eyes, unable to suppress a groan. She held him, and her hair was warm on his face, and her lips and her breath grazed his neck again, and there was nothing else, no Amazons, no Gabrielle, no Eve, nothing.

Then she pulled back, gently extricating herself from his arms.

"Come on."

She rose and extended her hand, but he wanted to do it on his own; it took a concentrated effort, and he almost stumbled but managed to stand up. She put a hand on his arm and gave him an encouraging smile.

Coming down into the square, where the crowd was starting to thin out, they were confronted by Varia. Her face was -- whoa! Blondie did that? Then he noticed Gabrielle standing behind the queen, looking as wretched as if she was the one who'd been thrashed.

"Xena." Varia's swollen lips moved with obvious difficulty, her speech slurred. "Who gave you permission to release him?"

Xena frowned. "You said that if Gabrielle won, he was free to go."

"On my pardon." She paused to wipe the blood that had welled up again on her mouth. "I'm still the queen, Xena. Not you." For a moment she sounded less like the queen than like a fretful child. Then again, it was hard to be regal when one couldn't even speak clearly.

Xena's lip curled as if she were about to deliver a sharp retort; then she paused briefly, her eyes flickering toward Gabrielle, and said, "Sorry."

Varia attempted a glare that came out as a squint. "Get him out of here -- now. I don't want him on our lands. Or you. You have an hour to get out."

"All right." Xena was silent for a moment. "Varia... I'm sorry -- it didn't have to end this way..."

Varia's puffy lips trembled a little; when she spoke again, her voice was softer. "Xena -- I thought you were our friend."

"I am your friend. Varia -- what you were doing wasn't right -- you let your guilt and your hatred blind you -- maybe one day you'll understand..."

This time, the silence was long and awkward. Varia sniffled and dabbed at her nose, wincing in pain. Then she said, bitterly but not quite with the same conviction as before, "Save it for some other time."

"Yeah." Xena sighed. She glanced at Ares, then, somewhat hesitantly, back at Varia. "He's going to need his things back."

Varia nodded toward one of the Amazons who had brought Ares from the jail. "She'll bring them to your hut."

As the woman walked off, Xena said, "Come on, Gabrielle."

"Queen Gabrielle," said Cyane, who was standing nearby with the other queens. "Please don't leave yet. You should stay for Eve's initiation; after all, it's from you that she received her right of caste. It wouldn't be right not to have you at the ceremony."

Varia's one good eye glittered angrily -- Eve's initiation was obviously a sore point -- but she said nothing.

"What about Xena?" Gabrielle said. "She's Eve's -- "

"No," Varia snapped. "Xena is not an Amazon."

Gabrielle glanced uneasily at Xena, who lowered her eyes and murmured, "It's up to you."

To be away from Xena right now -- or to be with Xena, so soon after everything that had happened ... what would be worse? She wasn't sure. Eve ... Eve needed her; she could hold on to that.

"I'll stay," Gabrielle said, turning to the queens.

She watched as Varia walked away slowly and stiffly across the square, leaning on the arm of one of her guards. In a few moments the other queens dispersed as well. Two Amazons came over to roll up the mat.

Everyone was gone now, except for herself, Xena, Ares, and Eve -- who stood to the side, staring at the ground, hugging herself as if trying to ward off a chill -- and a few onlookers still lingering in front of the huts. The square seemed smaller somehow, without all the people. Birds chirped overhead and landed on the softly swaying furry branches of the pines behind the platform; somewhere, a dog barked, and a baby wailed, and Gabrielle wondered if all these ordinary sounds of life had been suspended during the past hour.

Xena enveloped her in a tight hug; closing her eyes, she felt Xena's cheek rest on the top of her head and, just for a instant, surrendered herself to the comfort of this embrace, as if there were nothing to divide them. In that moment, she wished she hadn't agreed to stay. Then it all came back, and the cold weight in her chest hurt worse than the bruises on her body. She pulled away.

As they started to walk back to the hut, Ares' voice behind her made her stop. "Uh, Gabrielle -- "

She turned. He shifted his feet and cleared his throat, his eyes darting this way and that, and then looked up at her and muttered, "Thank you."

Gabrielle hadn't expected it to matter to her at all; yet, hearing him say it, she wasn't sure if she was more irritated or pleased.

"You're welcome."

He grinned and added, shaking his head, "Looks like I missed one hell of a show."

The wave of sickness Gabrielle had felt right after the fight rolled over her again. Dimly, she saw Xena give Ares an exasperated look and heard her say, "Let's go."

* ~ * ~ *

"I could put some ointment on that -- "

"I told you -- I'm all right." Gabrielle leaned back, away from the touch of Xena's fingers on her swollen lip. The tepid water in the tub rippled a little, tinged pink from the blood. "I'm done, anyway."

She got up, the water rolling down her body, a thin sheen on her bruised skin. Bruised... Her mouth rigid, Xena stepped back from the tub to pick up a sheet and hand it to Gabrielle. Bruised inside and out, for her, and anything she could say or do to make it better would only make it worse.

"Just tell me where to meet you," Gabrielle said, wrapping herself in the sheet.

"You know the lake where we camped the night before we got here? We'll wait for you there."

We. She shouldn't have said that.

Gabrielle got out of the tub, her movements slow and deliberate. "I think I'll stay an extra couple of days," she said. "Maybe I can help Eve -- ease into things." Xena met her stare and nodded silently, and then the deadness lifted from Gabrielle's eyes as she added softly, "Xena, I will come back."

When Xena held her close, Gabrielle's body was cool and still in her arms, her hands lingering stiffly in the air before resting on Xena's back. Finally, Xena mustered the courage to breathe "I love you," and waited forever, unbearably, until Gabrielle mumbled into her neck, "I love you too." They stood like that a while longer; then Gabrielle broke away and said, "You should go..."

"Yeah," she said. Everything was ready for their departure; Ares was outside with Argo and Dragon. "I'll just say good-bye to Eve."

In the main room of the hut, Eve paced around, still hugging her shoulders, wearing the same olive-green outfit in which she had spent her captivity (only scrubbed clean and somewhat faded). After the initiation, it would be replaced by Amazon garb.

"Eve," Xena said softly.

Eve stopped and turned toward her, a distant, wistful look on her face.

"You're leaving?"

"Come sit with me a minute." She walked over to the cot and sat down, looking at Eve, trying to think of what to say. Why couldn't she talk to her own daughter? Eve came up and sat next to her.

"I hope you find a new life here," Xena said.

"Among people whose sisters and friends I butchered."

Xena turned and put her hands on Eve's slender arms.

"You know you're not that person anymore. Livia is gone."

Eve chuckled bitterly. "I'm not so sure about that."

"What do you mean?"

"It's still inside me, Mother," Eve said quietly, looking away, and then Xena understood. While watching Gabrielle fight Varia, some part of Eve had felt fascinated by the spectacle -- as much as the rest of her had felt repelled and horrified.

"Look at me, Eve," she said urgently. "It's not what's inside you that matters -- it's what you do with it. I know you're going to do good. You'll bring back those Amazons you captured. Someday the Amazons will forgive you. Maybe you should think about forgiving yourself, too."

Eve gave her a probing look. "Have you? Forgiven yourself, Mother?"

"Ah... good point." If only all the unforgivable things had been in her past...

"Thank you for -- everything." She paused. "I know I've been a disappointment to you..."

"A disappointment?" Xena felt raw despair, as if, no matter what she did, she couldn't claw through the wall that separated her from her daughter.

"You wanted me to have a different kind of life -- to find a way beyond killing. Instead, I've ended up..." -- she sighed -- "bearing a burden just like yours ... and adding to your own burden."

"Eve, Eve..." How could she make her understand when she really didn't understand this herself? "You will find a way. Please believe me -- you could never be a disappointment." She wrapped her arms around Eve and pulled her close. "I love you."

They sat together, Eve leaning on Xena's shoulder, Xena stroking Eve's hair, and they could have been any mother and child saying good-bye for a while.

"So where will you go now?"

Xena chuckled. "Wherever there's trouble, I suppose. That's how it usually works out."

Eve sat up straight and studied her hands. Then she said, "You care about him a lot ... don't you."

Xena cringed; it was probably inevitable that Eve was going to bring this up. She wondered what Eve actually knew about her and Ares, or about her and Gabrielle. The thought of Eve being aware of what her mother did in bed with anyone would have been rather alarming before; now, it was -- frightening.

"Eve..."

"It's all right." Eve looked up. "I'm completely over ... all that. It's just -- hard to understand."

"A lot of things are."

Eve smiled thinly. "I'm glad you're with people you love. You deserve to be happy."

It was strange, to hear her daughter say that. She wondered if she could ever bring herself to believe it.

"Eve -- sweetheart..." She bit her lip. The wall was still there, and she felt like she could beat her head against it and it still wouldn't do any good.

There was an abrupt knock on the door, and a voice that she recognized as Thanais' said, "Xena! Varia says you and Ares have to leave right now."

"Just a minute!" Xena called out and turned desperately to Eve, brushing her cheek with the back of her hand. "I love you -- you're my greatest gift ..."

Eve's fingers closed around her wrist.

This time the knock was louder and angrier. The beaded curtain rustled and Gabrielle came out of the back room, wearing a plain brown tunic she had put on while her skirt and top were drying off; in the half-dark, with her hair wet and slicked back, she looked waifish and pale and heartbreaking. Xena sighed, helplessly patting Eve's hand, and rose from the cot.

"I'm ready," she said.

* ~ * ~ *

The initiation ceremony would start right after nightfall. It was already evening, and only a little daylight penetrated through the small windows into the ceremonial hut where the queens (except for Varia, who had retired to her private quarters) and a few Amazon elders were preparing for the ritual. The weapons laid out on the table, next to the bird and animal masks, the necklaces, and the jars of face paint, sparkled dimly in the quavering light of two small oil lamps.

Gabrielle had just finished listening to Cyane's explanation of her role in the ritual. Quite a few things had changed; thankfully, there would be no more howling at the moon -- she wasn't sure what Eve would have made of that.

"There is something else." Cyane looked almost embarrassed. "While Eve inherits your right of caste, we would like an agreement that she will lay no claim to the queenship. It's an unusual condition, but we hope you -- "

"Of course," she said quickly.

"And after the initiation, she will have to undergo a purification rite to be cleansed of her crimes against the Amazons."

Gabrielle nodded, her mouth suddenly dry. The purification rite ... She remembered, all too well, the time when she underwent it herself -- when the demon child she had protected killed Xena's son, and her bond with Xena was almost destroyed by lies and betrayals and anger.

"That covers everything, then," said Gwyn-Teir. "You should go and prepare Eve for the ceremony."

Poor Eve, Gabrielle thought as she rose from the bench. How confused she had to feel -- about to become part of a nation that had put her on trial for her life just the night before, that had viewed her, not unjustly, as a mortal enemy. Her mind took her back to the moment when she and Eve stood on the outskirts of the village watching Xena and Ares ride away, and when Eve said wistfully, "They look right together, don't they." She had looked at Eve in shock: the truth was that the same thought had hovered somewhere in the back of her own mind.

She wondered how long she should stay with Eve.

"Wait, Queen Gabrielle -- one more thing," Cyane said. "Since you will be initiating Eve into the tribe, you should be the one to mix the sacred ointment into the paint."

Gabrielle gave her a puzzled look. "Sacred ointment?"

"They didn't have that back in the old days," said a grey-haired woman named Meroe, an elder of Varia's tribe. "It was a gift we got from the goddess Artemis, some twenty-five summers ago, isn't that right?" She turned to another elder, from Cyane's tribe, for confirmation. "She gave it to three of the tribes."

Artemis? Strange... Artemis hadn't paid much attention to the Amazons, as far as she'd heard, in a very long time.

"What does it do?"

"It's meant to bring the blessing of the gods to the Amazons," said Cyane. "We use it in the most important rituals."

"The goddess said that as long as the ointment lasted, the Amazon nation would live and prosper," Meroe said reverently.

Gabrielle wanted to point out that Artemis had been dead for over a year, and that her gift had brought little luck to the Amazons when Livia attacked them -- but then decided that it was best to steer clear of that subject. Anyway, if the Amazons believed in something that gave them strength, perhaps it was better for them to go on believing.

Cyane went over to a carved chest in a corner, opened it and took out a small, well-polished silver vase.

"All you do," she said, "is take a dab of this on the tip of your finger and mix it with the paint before you put it on Eve's face, and say, 'With this sacred ointment, I invoke upon you the blessings of the goddess Artemis.'"

Gabrielle wondered if Eve, with her Elijan faith, would object to invoking the blessings of a pagan deity. But it was just a ritual, really; a silly ritual invoking a goddess who no longer existed -- no harm in that. Eve could do that much, to make amends to the people she had wronged.

Cyane lifted the lid. The crimson substance inside seemed to emit a faint glow in the half-darkness of the hut.

In that moment, everything changed.

Gabrielle was unable to stifle a short laugh, and quickly pretended to have a coughing fit as the queens and the elders gave her odd looks.

So Ares hadn't been so crazy after all, back when he had the Furies bouncing around in his head.

The Amazons did have ambrosia.

CHAPTER 9

Waking up felt good.

The air was full of bird-cries and the whispery ripple of trees and the smell of fresh grass, and the lake blushed in the dawn's misty light, and Xena was sleeping next to him just like he'd always wanted, wisps of her hair fluttering on his arm, everything filled with her naked warmth, with her faintly sweaty musky smell, with her. Ares closed his eyes again, letting himself wallow in her closeness. For now, hard as he was, it was enough to lie next to her like this, her hip pressed into him, his hand resting on her stomach. The two of them together -- no warlords to fight ... no villagers to save ... no vengeful Amazons ... no whining Elijans with mommy issues ... no blonde bards.

A rush of wind made Xena shiver slightly. He pulled up the blanket over her bare shoulder and hugged her closer, her breasts soft and pliant under his arm. What a way to start the day, especially a day he was supposed to spend being dead.

For much of the previous day, they had been riding through the musty-smelling forest, its half-darkness mottled with dots and patches of sun on the wiry tangle of the underbrush, the tree trunks blanketed in leafy vines, the jagged fallen limbs of old trees. It had been a mostly silent journey. As they were leaving the Amazon village, Xena seemed somewhere else, probably thinking about Eve, and Gabrielle, and all that had happened ‑- not something she'd talk about, certainly not to him. Eventually, the path got too narrow to ride side by side, and Ares was reduced to staring at the back of her head. Left to its own devices, his mind drifted inevitably in the direction of reliving the last day's events. He found himself wondering if his luck would run out eventually, and one of his many enemies would catch up with him. The question of what would have happened if Gabrielle had lost came back to him too, worrying at his mind until he couldn't take it anymore.

"Xena," he said, and she turned with a slight start, her features warming into a smile. "What if -- she hadn't won?" Her smile turning sly, she replied, "I had a plan," and he shot back, as playfully as he could, "I hope it was for something other than my funeral."

Then they stopped, and she told him. She had been all set to hurl her chakram at the pole holding up one of the Amazon banners, having calculated that the banner would fall right on top of Varia while she was coming up the steps to the platform. In the confusion, Xena would have collapsed the platform -- having loosened a few boards the night before -- and topped it off by setting fire to three bundles of wet straw she'd placed under it to produce thick clouds of smoke. That should have been enough to make their escape possible.

He gaped at her in awe. At last he said, "You ... you really are something, you know that?" and a tiny smile twinkled about her lips. "I'm almost sorry I didn't get to see that," he continued, only to add in response to her amused head-shake, "On second thought, probably not." They looked at each other, and she reached out and put her hand over his. He wanted her so acutely at that moment that his eyes slid over to a clear patch of grass behind the wispy shrubbery by the path, and he wondered if they could stop here; but just then Xena turned and nudged Argo's flanks and said, "Let's go."

By the time they got to the lake, it was evening. When he saw the water swashing placidly at clusters of tall reeds, Ares suddenly realized how much he had wanted to take a bath; it was as if some residue of the stale air of the jail still clung to his skin, reeking of misery and fear and weakness. Xena gave him a quizzical look as he began to get out of his clothes. "I'm going for a swim," he said, his voice rough; he didn't want to touch her now -- not even when her breastplate fell on the grass with a soft thud, not even when she reached behind to undo the lacings of her tunic, the motion making her breasts swell against the leather -- not yet, not until he felt clean again. He waded into the cold water, wincing as the pebbles on the bottom dug into the soles of his feet and underwater weeds lashed at his ankles, and walked on until the water was deep enough to immerse himself completely. In a moment he surfaced, spluttering, and watched as Xena too rose from a dive, the water rolling down her body like a thin glittering fabric. She came closer, and this time they did embrace; her face and mouth tasted of fresh lake water, and her wet hair, silky and cool, streamed through his fingers. Ares stepped back a little, and she ran her palms down his arms and caught his hands in hers; the late sunlight gave her skin an almost golden shimmer, and he had a memory of looking at her like this on their first night, in the quavering yellow light of an oil lamp.

Once they had started touching, they couldn't stop. A little later when they were coming back to the shore, he dropped on his knees in the thigh-deep water and turned Xena toward him; she gasped as he lapped at the water dripping down her legs and then moved higher, making love to her with his mouth, savoring her as if she were new to him. Finally she collapsed into his arms with a cry and a splash. A couple of ducks flew up from the reeds about thirty paces away, filling the quiet with a burst of rustling, flapping noise. "We're scaring the wildlife," Xena murmured with a weak laugh. Ares rose, sweeping her up in his arms, and grinned at her: "We are the wildlife."

He carried her to the shore, and she broke free to get a blanket out of her saddlebag and spread it out on the sun-bronzed grass. They lay down, and the touch of the evening breeze on his still-wet skin gave him goose bumps for a moment, but even that felt good. When they pulled apart from another breathless kiss, Ares drew his fingers over the curve of her breast, brushing the faint scar on its underside and the tiny bumps around the nipple. Then his hand trailed up Xena's neck to her face, tracing its lines, as though trying to memorize her features so he'd know them with his eyes closed; she too touched his face and his mouth, and then he did close his eyes, moaning, grazing her fingertips with his tongue. Neither of them could stand it much longer, and she pushed him on his back and rolled on top of him. He wanted to remember it all, the way her lip curled and her eyes clouded when she took him in, the soft fullness of her breasts on his chest, the dampness of her hair. He arched to meet her rhythm, gripping her hips, pulling her toward him, wanting to be deeper inside her, wanting more.

Afterwards, they lay together, the trickles of still-drying water on their bodies now mingled with sweat, and Xena was touching him again, lightly stroking his neck and his shoulder, her breath warm on his chest. Ares stared up into the sky, where the orange disc of the sun floated half-hidden in the stacks of rolling clouds. It was strange to think that he might have never seen this sunset, and that it mattered to him. He knew that his near-death experience may have lent a special frantic urgency to their lovemaking; but then, whenever they made love, it was nearly always as if they were about to lose each other forever, or had narrowly escaped losing each other. So often, he had tortured himself with the thought that what they had together could end at any moment. But of course, it would end sooner or later; some day, next week or in thirty years, he would hold her in his arms for the last time. Maybe all mortal life was a near-death experience.

The clouds looked like snowy mountain caps suffused with a purple glow, and it made him think of Olympus -- only to realize that somehow, everything that had to do with godhood seemed to have moved further away from him, gliding off into some dreamlike mist. He didn't have much time to dwell on that, because Xena kissed his chest and looked up at him, the dark trees behind them reflected in her eyes. He smiled, lifting the coils of her damp hair on his palm. "What?" she asked, her voice low and teasing. "Just thinking that I have you all to myself for a couple of days," he said. A shadow crossed her face, making him wonder if he'd said the wrong thing; but in a moment the little line between her eyebrows smoothed over, and she smiled back and leaned in to kiss him.

He talked her into letting him catch their dinner; she would have done a faster and better job of it, to be sure, but he was determined to show her that he was good at something, and he actually did better than he'd expected. Afterwards, when they climbed into her bedroll together, it was with no discussion, as if it were the most ordinary thing, as if they had been doing this forever. As soon as they settled in, he was swept by a warm heavy tide of sleepiness and exhaustion, and barely had time to press his lips to her shoulder before it pulled him under.

Now, lying next to her, it felt like the most natural thing in the world that they should wake up like this -- every morning of every day of the rest of their mortal lives.

A cool breeze whooshed through the grass and the leaves. Xena stirred next to him and tossed her head, and muttered something that sounded annoyingly like "Gabrielle."

Oh well. So much for no blonde bards.

With a sigh, Ares pressed closer into her, circling her nipple with his thumb while he kissed her neck, softly at first and then more insistently, darting the tip of his tongue over her skin. Xena's breathing quickened; she moved again, and suddenly turned and opened her eyes. At first she looked almost puzzled. Then she stretched a little and smiled, drawing an arm around him.

"Good morning," she said softly and brushed her mouth against his, her other hand sliding down his chest.

He closed his eyes as their lips met again.

For now, this morning was enough.

* ~ * ~ *

The lantern filled the ceremonial hut with deep black shadows outside its unsteady circle of light. The floorboards made a harsh grating sound, as if registering their dismay at the nighttime intrusion.

The hut was unlocked and unguarded. It never occurred to the Amazons that anyone would try to steal their sacramental objects. Anyone -- let alone one of their queens.

Squelching the guilt, Gabrielle raised the lantern higher. For a moment, the amber light formed a halo around a stern-faced bird mask, then swept over the shelves crowded with small wooden figures of sacred animals and Amazon heroines, and reflected dully off a row of ceramic urns that housed the ashes of dead queens and princesses. Terreis had her resting place here, the noble Amazon from whom Gabrielle had inherited her right of caste; and Melosa, and Ephiny. Ephiny ... her beloved friend, a friend who'd given her comfort at the worst time of her life, when Solan and Hope died and she nearly lost Xena ... what would Ephiny have thought of her now?

Gabrielle walked to the corner where the chest with the ambrosia stood and sat on the floor with her legs tucked under her, setting the lantern down on the floor.

There was no other choice.

For a brief moment, she had actually considered pocketing a pinch of the ambrosia during the initiation ceremony itself. That could be the best way to pull it off: to be completely brazen and just do it in front of all the masked queens and the elders, while everyone was busy watching Eve recite the Amazon oath and receive small tokens of her membership in the Amazon Nation from the queens -- a bracelet, a bear's claw necklace, a feathered belt, an arrow. But she lingered a moment, and then it was too late; one of the elders took the small vase from the table and put it back in the chest.

So she had waited until the next night. And now, here she was, with a lantern and a small vial.

The Amazons would never miss it, she told herself. There would be plenty left ... and it wasn't as if Artemis' "sacred ointment" actually had anything to do with the survival of the Amazon nation. Except that they believed it did...

They'd never forgive her if they found out.

What was happening to her? This question had stirred in her mind a number of times over those two days as she it mulled over. Who was this person who so casually planned stealing from her own people ... and was here now, under the cover of night, to carry out her plan? She had worried that being a warrior was going to destroy her; but what was thievery and betrayal going to do to her soul?

But there was no other choice. If Ares stayed mortal, he was never going to leave -- not now -- not after he had risked his neck to save Xena's daughter. And that would destroy her soul all right.

Once he was gone, she could start worrying about doing the right thing again. She'd find a way to make up for this ... somehow.

With a sigh, Gabrielle lifted the lid of the chest, wincing at its squeak even though no one was around to hear it. As she looked at the three vases, it occurred to her that her plan might backfire. What if, instead of going off to Olympus and leaving them alone, Ares enticed Xena to become a goddess and follow him?

No, Xena would never agree to that. She couldn't be sure, of course, that Xena would break it off completely. But it wouldn't last -- not if Ares was the God of War again. Soon enough, he'd try to start a war somewhere, pit one city against another, or have a conquering army roll through the countryside, and Xena would have to stop him; and then, she would no longer trust him enough to let him close. And even if she still slept with him once in a while ... at this point, Gabrielle could bring herself to deal with it, as long as she and Xena could have their old life back.

She reached down and pulled out one of the three vases. She wondered how much she should get. It wasn't as if you could get hold of an Olympian rulebook and look up the dosage of ambrosia required to make someone a god. She tried to recall how much Velasca had taken before gaining godly powers. It was just a tiny morsel... would it be different for someone who had been a god before?

Gabrielle lifted the lid of one of the vases. The jelly-like substance inside had a faint glow. Holding her breath, she dipped a flat wooden stick into it, scooped up a lump roughly the size of her thumb, and transferred it to the vial. The glass had a strange warmth in her hands as she corked the vial and slipped it inside her top. A sudden shiver ran through her at the thought that she held in her hands a substance that could turn one into a god. Her eyes closed as the tide of a distant memory rose up and washed over her: how, the day he killed Eli, Ares spoke to her in the desert and tried to lure her into his service, and then laid his hands on her and made her feel his power. It wasn't pleasure ... at least it wasn't like any earthly pleasure. For just a few moments, she felt that she could lift a hand and shape the world according to her whim, dealing life or death, fire or ice as she pleased -- her body a perfect instrument, completely obedient to her will, beyond pain and weakness. She remembered Ares' deep, calm, captivating voice. This is how I feel every moment of every day of my life...

With a shudder, Gabrielle opened her eyes. As she closed the vase with the ambrosia, her hands shook a little, and the lid made a slight grating sound. She wasn't sure if the vial was actually burning against her skin or she was just imagining it.

She put the vase back and closed the chest. She knew she had to get up and go, but her limbs felt strangely lifeless, as if her bones had dissolved.

He gave up all that -- for Xena...

Well, she was going to give it back to him -- what was wrong with that? It wasn't as if she was planning to take the ambrosia herself and then use her godly powers against him. And Ares had probably believed all along that he'd get his godhood back eventually, one way or another.

Except that, of course, he'd never take the ambrosia from her. If she marched up to him and handed him the vial, he'd know exactly what she was after -- to get him out of the way -- and see it as letting her win. She wouldn't put it past Ares to stay mortal out of sheer stubbornness.

Gabrielle raised her head, rubbed her eyes and finally forced herself to get up. Her legs felt numb from sitting down for too long, her haunches tingling unpleasantly.

She'd make sure he got the ambrosia somehow; she could always think about the how later. The important thing was that she had it.

Picking up the lantern, she headed toward the door, and froze in her tracks as she heard the soft creak of footsteps just outside.

The door took forever to open.

The moonlight streamed in, gleaming milky-white on the tip of a spear. Gabrielle felt ice-cold all over, except where the flask with the ambrosia was touching her chest.

Slowly, cautiously, the wielder of the spear leaned in through the door. Before Gabrielle saw the face, she saw the blonde hair and the tan leather shirt with fringes on the sleeve.

Cyane.

She felt dizzy, and realized that she hadn't been breathing.

"Gabrielle." Cyane lowered her spear. "What are you doing here?"

Gabrielle's throat clenched, her mouth dry. She hoped the light wasn't enough for Cyane to get a good view of her face.

Her eye fell on the urns, whitish-grey in the moonbeam that cut a pale swathe from the open door to the shelves by the wall.

"I ..." Gabrielle took a deep breath. Once she had found the words, they came almost easily. "I was thinking about Ephiny -- I wanted to come here and -- say good-bye to her ashes before I left."

"Oh." Cyane's voice was sympathetic, almost embarrassed. "I'm sorry I disturbed you... I saw a light in the window and thought I'd check it out. I'll leave you alone, then."

"No, no," Gabrielle said hastily. "I'm all done here -- I was leaving."

Cyane closed the door behind them. As they walked back to Gabrielle's hut together, Cyane asked questions about Ephiny, and Gabrielle answered, only half aware of what she was saying.

I'm sorry, Ephiny. I'm sorry. I know you wouldn't understand. But I have to do this.

I know this isn't me.

I can be myself again ... when this is over.

* ~ * ~ *

The army he favored, an alliance of several cities, laid siege to the great seven-gated city of Thebes, and the Thebans had launched a sneak attack and killed over a hundred allied warriors; and so he had advised his commanders, by way of retaliation and intimidation, to execute a dozen Theban prisoners captured in an earlier battle. The men had been dragged to a field before the city walls, so that they could be seen from within the city; now they were lined up on their knees, hands tied behind their backs, shirtless, shivering from cold or fear or both. The allied commanders stood to the side, dazzling in full armor, the wind stirring the plumes on their helmets. He, the God of War, stood there with them, arms folded on his chest. He glanced casually at the doomed men kneeling in the brown dust under the bloated gray sky. His eyes met those of one prisoner, dark-haired and bearded, about thirty years old from the looks of him; the man was shuddering once in a while, the muscles in his neck moving spasmodically, his lips trembling as he seemed to be soundlessly repeating something over and over again.

Bored, Ares turned to one of his generals.

"Let's get it over with," he said, gesturing toward the prisoners. "And get ready to storm the gates tonight."

He was still speaking when everything changed. His knees were hurting, and the rope was rubbing his wrists raw, and his arms were sore from being wrenched back, and the cold wind was biting into his bare shoulders and chest -- and he knew that these were the last things he would ever feel in this world. He tried to remember the touch of her mouth and the warmth of her arms, to see her face, and he kept saying her name, Xena, as if he could summon her there, Xena, as if he could make her hear him across the distance, Xena Xena Xena, as if he could make up for all the times he would never say it to her, all the days they no longer had. His eyes darting frantically, he caught sight of the armored enemy commanders overseeing the execution and the tall dark leathered figure that stood with them, slouching a little. The man in black leather turned and looked at him, and he stared into his own face and his own cold eyes, implacable and mocking.

Ares' breath failed him and he could no longer speak her name, and then the blindfold came down over his eyes and all went black.

After that, bafflingly, he saw it from outside again, the twitching face of the blindfolded man and the ragged breaths that shook his chest, and the swordsman prepared to deliver the blow -- but he felt it too, the cold and the pain and the blind terror, and the breeze that he knew was not the wind but the sword slashing through the air -- and, watching, he knew that he was about to see the blade cut into the man's neck, his own neck, about to see the blood spurt and --

Ares sat up with a gasp that scraped at his throat. They didn't want to die. He gulped for air in a bluish half-darkness.

"They didn't want to die..."

He heard himself mutter it aloud. Just then something touched his shoulder; he shuddered and flailed wildly, and felt the back of his hand hit something. In the same instant, he saw the mane of dark hair and the patch of white that was Xena's face, and knew he had struck out at her. They were in her bedroll, at the campsite by the lake, and it was just before dawn.

Xena caught his wrists and held them gently.

"Shh," she whispered, sliding her hands up his arms, then wrapping her own arms around his shoulders. He realized that he was shaking and drenched in sweat.

She held him close and kissed the top of his head, and part of him wanted nothing more than to sink into the comforting warmth of her embrace, but the pleasure of it was mixed with a queasy shame.

The memory that had turned itself into his nightmare came back; he could see the Theban's face and his moving lips -- saying the name of someone he loved? -- and the way his headless body convulsed in the scarlet-soaked dust moments later. He had ordered that man's death, sent so many to their deaths in one way or another, and they had all wanted to live as desperately as he had wanted to catch another glimpse of Xena's face before he was blindfolded ‑- and they had lost everything, and their slaughter had pleased him. He had trouble steadying his breath. Did Xena know what was going through his head? Suddenly, he knew what she felt when she looked back on her past. Maybe that was what this whole atonement thing was about: running away from things that were too sickening to look back on, trying to build a wall that would hold them back. For the first time, he understood her completely; only now, he wasn't sure he wanted to understand. And he could never talk to her about it, never.

Xena reached over and handed him a waterskin. He took a few gulps, almost choking on the cold water.

"It's over," she whispered, stroking his damp hair. "You're okay now."

"No," he said hoarsely before he had time to think.

She was silent for a moment. Then she pulled him down, gently but insistently, as they settled into the bedroll.

"Ares." Her lips brushed his ear, ruffling his hair. "You're a good man."

So she knew...

He snorted into her neck, and wanted to make a joke about her liking for bad boys; but he didn't trust his voice not to break or falter. They lay silently, pressed into each other, her leg wrapped around his hip, her palm flattened on his back, and after a while the lump in his chest was gone.

A good man, he thought dimly as his eyelids grew heavy again. To think that it made him feel better.

Xena listened as Ares' breath became steady, and tried to push back a vague anxiety. She had thought at first, when he woke from a nightmare, that he had been reliving his near-execution. But it had clearly been more than that. "They didn't want to die..." What long-dead victims of his godly games had invaded his dream? It was unnerving not to know what was on his mind. It was also unnerving, she realized, to think of Ares feeling guilty over his past. For one thing, it could drive him mad, considering how long he'd had to accumulate his track record; and given that Ares didn't do anything by half, who could tell how far he would go if he went on what he had once mockingly called an atonement kick? But it wasn't just that... She was used to him being cocky and unapologetic, even as a mortal, and -- well, dammit, it felt good to have someone like that around.

What was she thinking? She had wanted him to change ... because she cared about him, and maybe because, if she helped the former God of War become a better man, it meant that she herself really was a good person.

And yet -- and yet -- maybe she didn't want him to change that much...

He stirred a little in his sleep and clutched her tighter, and made an inarticulate groan that could have been her name.

Then she thought of something else. She had changed him. For years, he had tried to make her his; now, she had made him hers. In a way, it was almost as terrifying.

* ~ * ~ *

The little flask with ambrosia had been transferred to her saddlebag, but Gabrielle could still feel its presence as she rode through the murky woods.

Somehow, she had to get it to Ares. She had to make sure he didn't know it came from her. No less important, she had to make sure Xena didn't know.

What was she supposed to do, slip the stuff in his waterskin? She couldn't even be sure it would work mixed with water (that Olympian rulebook sure would have come in handy...); besides, if it did, and Ares started shooting firebolts out of his hands all of a sudden, it was bound to look suspicious.

The ludicrous image made her smile first, and then wince. Was she actually thinking about making Ares a god without his knowledge or consent? A queasy feeling started up in the pit of her chest, and for a moment Gabrielle wondered if she should give up on the whole thing.

She couldn't. It was a matter of saving her life.

There had to be a way.

The path before her narrowed, heavy branches swooping over her head like giant bird wings. Gabrielle lowered her hand and touched the saddlebag that hid her guilty little secret, as if wanting to make sure it was really there -- or maybe, deep down, hoping to find out that it wasn't.

And then it came to her. She had to get someone else to give it to Ares. Someone Ares would trust. Of course. One of his followers, from his days as a god. Maybe a priest.

All she had to do was wait until they got to a town that had a temple of Ares.

The streaks of daylight between the trees ahead of her told Gabrielle that the lake was close. She was about to see Xena, knowing all the time that she was planning to deceive her.

This time, the doubt hit her like a cold hard blast.

Don't do it.

Reaching into her saddlebag, Gabrielle rummaged for the vial. Her fingers curled around the warm glass. She could take it out and fling it into the dense shrubbery where she'd never find it, even if she changed her mind.

She gave Clio's bridle a gentle tug with her other hand, slowing the mare down to a walk. From where she was now, Gabrielle could see the silvery glaze of the lake and the softness of the sky through the almost black latticework of leaves.

       Don't do it. She would have betrayed her sisters for nothing, then. But at least she would stop at that. At least she wouldn't be lying to Xena. At least --

Near the edge of the clearing, she heard indistinct voices and Xena's laugh.

She brought Clio to a halt, and carefully moved a branch out of the way. Ares and Xena were sitting side by side, she polishing her armor, he cleaning his vest; Xena said something, and Ares answered, and then she laughed and gave him a light punch on the shoulder.

Gabrielle let go of the vial and took her hand out of the saddlebag.

She had to do it.

When she rode out of the trees, Xena looked up, and there was such love and joy in her face that it stopped the breath in Gabrielle's throat.

She dismounted and came closer. Xena rose and walked toward her, her lips quivering a little as she smiled, her eyes bright. For a moment they stood still, less than a pace apart. Then Xena stepped closer and hugged her, holding her tight, stroking her hair and her back; Gabrielle closed her eyes, and heard Xena's husky whisper in her ear.

"I'll make it up to you ... I promise."

* ~ * ~ *

Dawn was breaking over the city, smudging the gray sky with pink, lifting the darkness that shrouded the houses, the trees, the empty horse-carts, the cobblestones. Standing by the window in her room, Gabrielle listened to the low murmur of the sea in the distance, where she could just make out the masts of the ships in the Maroneian port.

In three days, they would catch the boat to Lemnos island. A ruthless band of pirates was operating off the island's shores; Xena's plan was to either take them on if they attacked the boat, or to track them down to their hideout. Gabrielle's plan was that she and Xena would be getting on that boat alone, and Ares would be in no further need of transportation.

She had a somewhat hazy memory of the last ten days. It was almost as if none of it were completely real; her life was on hold until all this was over. Xena had been tender and solicitous toward her, and they had spent two nights together while staying at village inns. But, when they made love, Gabrielle had found that she couldn't give herself completely, not only because of everything that had happened between them but because of what was going to happen. In the end, she wanted only to get it over with, and she gave a fake cry of pleasure and made her body rigid; from Xena's look, Gabrielle felt sure that Xena wasn't fooled. The next time Xena came to her room, they just held and kissed each other, and eventually Gabrielle relaxed enough to doze off in Xena's arms.

Xena's birthday had come and gone in that haze. Gabrielle had meant to give her the scroll with Sappho's poem -- to her dismay, she'd almost forgotten about it -- but then realized that she couldn't, not while she was planning to deceive the woman she loved. She'd save it for later, for when their love was whole again.

There was one moment she remembered more vividly than the rest. Something had roused her during the night at a campsite; still half-asleep, Gabrielle heard a noise, and cautiously opened an eye to see Ares sitting up in his bedroll, breathing hard, and Xena crawling toward him in the faint glow of the nearly extinguished campfire. She watched as Xena put an arm around Ares' shoulders and he squeezed her hand. "What is it?" Xena asked quietly. Ares shook his head; "Tell me," she pressed, and he sighed and spoke in a breaking half-whisper that only let Gabrielle pick up some words and phrases. Something about Thebes, about prisoners and some order he gave, and something else she couldn't make out. He fell silent, then looked up at Xena and said, "He was waiting to die..." -- and after a moment she heard Xena say, "I know." They held each other close, and Gabrielle's heart clenched in sympathy for Ares and in shame at her plan. Closing her eyes, she reminded herself yet again that she wasn't doing anything wrong, not to Ares. If anything, she'd be doing him a favor; he so obviously wasn't suited to mortal life and its perils.

Three more days. Then, everything would be all right.

Walking away from the window, Gabrielle went to the corner where her two saddlebags were stashed, and reached into one of them to get out the vial. Later today, she would go to Ares' temple.

* ~ * ~ *

She had told Xena she was going to check out the city library. The words tasted foul in her mouth, but what was one more lie?

Luckily, it turned out that the temple of Ares wasn't too far from the inn. As Gabrielle walked toward the massive edifice of marble and granite with twin dragons guarding its front steps, her feet felt as if they belonged to somebody else, and something inside her rose up and tried to pull her back. Still, she walked on, past the faceless houses of grey stone that lined the street leading toward the temple.

Gabrielle had spent a long time thinking of something to tell the priest about why she was giving the ambrosia to him and not directly to Ares, and why she didn't want Ares to know where the ambrosia came from. Finally, she had come up a cover story that seemed to hold up quite well -- almost good enough to have been Xena's invention. She was going to say that Ares had offered to be her mentor when he was still a god (which, amazingly enough, happened to be true), and that she had traveled with him and saved his life as a mortal (true again). The fictional part would be that she had offered Ares to get him ambrosia and he had absolutely forbidden it, wanting neither to risk her life nor to be any deeper in debt to her; she had gotten it anyway, but she didn't want her god to know she had defied him. Yeah. It made sense.

The temple was very close now. A giant banner, black with silver lettering, hung over the portico. Coming even closer, Gabrielle stopped in her tracks and wondered if she was seeing things.

The banner said:

GRAND OPENING TONIGHT!
COME PARTY WITH US FROM SUNDOWN TILL DAWN
AT THE NEW TAVERN AND DANCE HALL
TEMPLE OF WAR!

And, in smaller script underneath:

No weapons allowed

She blinked, closed her eyes and opened them again. The banner refused to go away.

Gabrielle walked up the steps and stopped at the massive black doors with skulls, bones and swords carved into them. Ares and his taste in decorating.

Her eyes fell on a yellow piece of papyrus lying face down on the stone at her feet. She picked it up. It was an advertisement for the grand opening, with the same text as the banner and a skull-and-sword logo at the top. Thoughtfully, Gabrielle folded it and slipped it into her satchel. Then she grasped one of the two huge cast-iron rings on the door and knocked.

For a while there was no response, though she thought she heard movement and voices inside, and .... music? While she waited, it occurred to her dimly that she probably had to devise a whole new strategy. Xena, she thought ruefully, would have already had a new plan by now. She knocked again, and listened as the dull low echo of the boom died away.

There were footsteps, and then a small window opened up in the massive door and a woman's gaunt face peered at her.

"Use the side door for deliveries," the woman snapped.

"This isn't a delivery," Gabrielle said, a little taken aback. Well, it was... sort of.

"If you're here for the party, it's at sundown." The face disappeared abruptly and the window was about to close, but Gabrielle held out a hand to block it.

"I'm not here for the party. I need to talk to" -- she wanted to say "the head priest," but maybe that wasn't the right word -- "someone in charge."

The woman leaned forward again. "Are you here about a job?"

"Let's say I have a business proposition." Gabrielle was getting impatient. "Look, your boss will want to see me, okay?"

The woman pursed her lips and said, "All right."

She slammed the window shut, barely giving Gabrielle time to jerk her fingers out of the way. A moment later, there was the sound of a heavy latch being pulled to the side, and the door opened up enough for her to step through.

Even the banner advertising the tavern and dance hall hadn't quite prepared Gabrielle for what met her inside. Everything in the cavernous torch-lit temple was decked out in black, red, and silver ribbons and in garlands of red and black roses. Incredulous, she ran her fingers over a garland woven around a sculpture of a wolf -- making the fanged beast look almost domesticated -- and realized that the petals were cloth.

"Hands off the flowers, please," snapped the woman who had let her in.

Still slightly dazed by this sight, Gabrielle walked forward. The music she'd heard before struck up again; it came from a cluster of young women with flutes and lyres seated on cushions at the foot of a huge garlanded statue of Ares. Their outfits, at least what there was of them, were also red and black, with small, obviously fake silver swords dangling from their red belts.

She spotted a tall, dark-haired bearded man dressed in what seemed to be the official colors of this establishment, talking to a woman carrying a tray with silver goblets. The man looked over the goblets, pointed fastidiously to presumed blemishes on a couple of them and waved the woman away; she nodded and hurried toward a side door.

Taking her chances, Gabrielle came closer and tapped the man on the elbow. "You're the head priest of this temple, aren't you?"

The man turned. He would have seemed imposing if not for the mismatch between his slender nose and full pouty lips; they gave his haughty look an air of petulance, as if she had just spat on his boot..

"In case you haven't noticed, this is not a temple anymore."

He hadn't denied it; her guess must have been correct.

"I have noticed," she said, far more breezily than she ever thought she could manage. "And how do you think your lord Ares would like what you've done to the place?"

The priest gave Gabrielle a mildly curious, disdainful look. "What are you doing here?"

The woman who had let her in spoke up hastily. "She said she had some business proposition."

He reflected for a moment and then nodded. "All right, Carissa, that will be all. Go and check up on the cooks."

Carissa stalked away, turning once to give Gabrielle an unfriendly look over her shoulder.

"So," the tall man said. "Are you here about a job?" He looked her over. "What do you want to be, a dancer or a bouncer?"

She was momentarily at a loss. "Are you -- the owner?"

"Yes," he said dryly. "Geryon, formerly the head priest of the Temple of Ares in Maroneia. And now" -- he spread his arms, indicating the unusual scene around him. "Not very dignified, to be sure. But one does have to keep up with the times."

"Times may be changing." Gabrielle felt pretty pleased with that line; it sounded almost like something Xena would have said.

"So. Are you going to tell me what your business is, or am I going to have you thrown out?"

"I wanted," she said, as coolly as she could, "to tell you to expect a visit from your old boss."

"You don't mean -- ?"

"Ares? As a matter of fact, I do."

Geryon snorted. "All right, I've heard enough. Get out."

Damn. Xena would have had him cowering in terror by now.

"You think I'm pulling your leg?"

"Look here, young woman." Geryon sighed in exasperation. "It is common knowledge that Ares has been mortal for well over a year. Indeed, it is rumored that he was killed some two moons ago near Amphipolis, in a battle with Gascar the Terrible."

"The rumor is wrong," she said. "I fought at Ares' side when he killed Gascar."

For the first time, the former priest looked at her with interest, if not a hint of apprehension.

"Who are you?"

"A warrior. Some time before he lost his godhood, Ares offered to train me as his champion."

Geryon coughed and licked his lips. "And you are telling me that Ares is here in Maroneia right now."

"That's right."

The various emotions that flitted across the priest's face finally settled into a purse-lipped look of offended dignity. "Well, that isn't any of my concern, as long as he's still mortal. My allegiance was sworn to the God of War." In the next moment, he seemed somewhat frightened of his own audacity. "Uh ‑- on the other hand, young woman -- if Ar -- if lord Ares is interested in a portion of the profits, I'd be happy to discuss -- "

Ares would have been pleased, she thought with bitter amusement; even mortal, he was still scary.

"It's a little worse than that, Geryon," she interrupted. "Ares is about to get his godhood back."

Even in the golden glow of the lamps and torches, Geryon looked white as a sheet.

"What?"

Now, she felt confident, almost lightheaded.

"I managed to get some ambrosia," she said. "The reason I came here was to make sure you were ready to receive him -- it seemed right to me that he should reclaim his godhood in one of his own temples..."

She realized that the musicians had stopped playing and were looking at them, though they were surely too far away to have overheard any of the conversation. The attendants, too, had stopped doing their chores and were staring, evidently sensing that something big was happening.

Geryon shuffled over to the bar on the side of the hall, poured himself a goblet of wine and took a few sips, wiping his forehead. When he looked at Gabrielle again, his face had regained some color, and his eyes were suddenly suspicious.

"Wait a minute," he said slowly. "I think I'm on to you."

Her heart sank. He couldn't possibly --

"You're working for Alysia, aren't you?"

She blinked in genuine confusion, but also in relief.

"Alysia?"

"That witch is afraid of the competition, isn't she," Geryon spat out. "Of course -- who would want to go to that smelly barn she calls a dance hall once my place opens up! Anything to sabotage our grand opening..." By the time he had gotten to "sabotage," the bravado had started draining from his voice, perhaps because he could see that the bewilderment in Gabrielle's face wasn't fake.

"You believe whatever you want," she said. "Go ahead, have your grand opening. I don't blame you for trying to make some money when you thought you were out of a job. But just in case I'm telling the truth -- I can offer you a way to save your butt."

Geryon gave her a peevish look, too nervous to convey offended dignity.

"You see, Geryon," she continued, "I was actually going to give the ambrosia to you. Ares doesn't know I have it yet -- I wanted it to be a surprise. And I thought it would be proper for a priest of Ares to present him with the means to restore him to Olympus." She reached into her satchel and took out the vial. "You can still do that. Then, I suppose Ares would be inclined to be -- forgiving of this little venture."

"Is that -- the real thing?" Geryon squeaked.

"It certainly is." Gabrielle noticed what looked like a covetous glint in Geryon's eyes, and it occurred to her that perhaps letting him have her entire supply of ambrosia wouldn't be so smart. "I'm willing to give you half," she said. "The other half, I'm keeping as insurance."

"Oh -- oh -- okay..." His hands shaking a little, Geryon grabbed a silver bowl and held it out to her. Gabrielle used one of her sais to scoop up a little more than half of the precious substance and transfer it to the bowl. It looked like such a tiny sliver... Please, gods, let it be enough...

"By the way, don't even think of helping yourself to the stuff," she added. "Remember, Ares is going to become a god one way or the other, and then, even if you become one too, you won't have a chance against him. Let's face it, he's had a lot more practice."

"I -- I wasn't..." Geryon gulped and wiped his forehead again, cradling the bowl to his chest with his other hand.

Gabrielle couldn't help smirking. "And don't tell him when or where you got it."

"Okay..."

"Good luck," she said, re-closing the vial and putting it away. "You do know what Ares looks like, right?"

The former priest nodded with a grunt that was obviously a "yes." As she turned to go, he suddenly regained the power of speech -- or rather, of hiss.

"Listen, missy, if I find out that you played a trick on me and this is grape jelly -- I swear in the name of Ar-... I swear I'll track you down, and believe you me, you are not going to be smiling."

"Well, then," Gabrielle said cheerfully. "I guess we'll just have to see who has the last laugh."

Walking away, she heard Geryon bark at one of the attendants, "Take the flowers off the damn statue, will ya?"

As she came down the temple steps, wincing at the sunlight, it occurred to her that things couldn't possibly have gone better. With the party being held at the temple, she didn't even have to think of an excuse to get Ares there -- of course he'd be curious. Maybe the Fates, if the Fates still had anything to do with anything, actually wanted this plan of hers to work.

On her way back, Gabrielle noticed a lanky red-headed teenage boy nailing a piece of papyrus announcing the grand opening of the Temple of War to the wall of a wooden house. She remembered the papyrus she had stashed away in her satchel, and the fence right across the street from the door of the inn.

"Hey, kid," she said. "I can show you where to put up another one of those."

The boy turned his head and scowled. "I'm all done -- this is the last one I got."

"I have an extra one. Come on, I'll pay you a dinar."

He gave her a gap-toothed smile. Everything was working.

The whole thing had turned out to be so much easier than she thought. Gabrielle wasn't sure if that made her want to skip down the street singing, or hide somewhere in a dark corner.

* ~ * ~ *

"Gabrielle."

With a start, she saw Xena's hand waving in front of her face.

"Huh?"

"I said, are you all right? You've been very quiet."

Dinner was almost over and they still hadn't said anything about it. Damn.

"I have?"

Act normal. She had to act normal. Gabrielle looked at her plate and realized that she had been the first to finish her meal.

"Uh, sorry." She rubbed her face and gave Xena the best smile she could muster. "I was thinking about starting a new scroll."

"You should do that more often," Ares said amicably, cleaning up the sauce from his plate with a piece of flatbread. She glanced at him, surprised. A corner of his mouth hitched up in a slight smirk, and then she realized it was a thinly veiled gibe -- you ought to keep quiet more. Her lips tightened; with luck, she wouldn't have to put up with this nonsense much longer.

With luck -- what if her luck had run out in the end? What if, somehow, they hadn't spotted the notice nailed to the damn fence right across from the damn door?

Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. She took a gulp of ale and put down the mug.

"So," she said, trying to sound casual. "What are we doing tonight?"

Ares chuckled. "Going to my temple."

Gabrielle held back an audible sigh of relief as the tension ebbed from her body; yet the sick anxiety she had felt before rose to her throat again.

She hoped she'd managed a properly surprised look. "What for?"

Xena grinned. "A party."

"A par-" Suddenly, she couldn't do it, couldn't fake surprise, couldn't go on lying like this ... not to Xena. For a moment Gabrielle was afraid she would throw up. She pressed her hand to her mouth and coughed, almost retching.

"You okay?"

She was about to say that she wasn't feeling well -- but then Xena wouldn't want to leave her alone for the evening -- damn damn damn --

"Fine," she squeezed out. "Just -- something caught in my throat -- "

She grabbed her mug of ale; as long as she was sipping it, she didn't have to look Xena in the eye.

"Anyway... a party?"

"Yeah," Xena said wryly. "See, the temple's been converted to a tavern and dance hall."

"Could've been worse." Ares shot Gabrielle a mocking look. "They coulda turned it into an academy of bards or something."

She snorted feebly into her ale.

"They're having a party for the opening tonight at sundown," Xena said. "You're coming, right?"

Only now, Gabrielle realized that she couldn't. Not only because Geryon might somehow give her away, but because she couldn't bear to watch ... watch Xena get hurt, because of her -- knowing that Xena's loss was her own victory...

Gabrielle shook her head. "Actually... it doesn't sound like my kind of thing. I think I'll stay and start that scroll."

"You know what would be cool?" Ares leaned back and folded his arms on his chest, a dreamy smile on his face. "Put on a little show like we did in Elaea and make those idiots think I'm a god. Can you imagine the looks on their faces -- "

Gabrielle almost choked on her ale. She hadn't counted on this -- what would Geryon do if he thought Ares was already a god? It could mess up the whole thing... or maybe it was really for the best...

"Ares. We're not putting on any show," Xena said. "You're going to behave, right?"

"Mmm... right."

Gabrielle looked up and saw them exchange a quick glance, the amused sparkle in Ares' eyes reflected in Xena's. She drained her mug and got up.

"Well," she said, "I guess I'll go up and write." With her back to them, she added, "See you later."

* ~ * ~ *

As they walked up the temple steps in the throng of revelers, Xena glanced at Ares and wondered if he was really so casual about the whole thing. He was about to be reminded very starkly of his fall from power. What if someone recognized him -- as a mortal, on an equal footing with his own former servants and worshipers? Was it this fear, not just a general love of mischief, that had made him want to pull that pretending-to-be-a-god stunt?

Maybe they shouldn't have gone ... shouldn't have left Gabrielle alone for the whole evening, anyway. Her face was suddenly burning, and guilt lay like a stone in the middle of her chest. Ever since they'd gotten news of Eve's capture, she had been so wrapped up in what was happening to Eve, and then to Ares ... and Gabrielle was dying inside. She had promised to make it up to her -- as if she ever could! -- and now, here she was going to a dance hall with Ares -- and leaving Gabrielle alone. They wouldn't stay, she told herself; just look around to satisfy Ares' curiosity and then go back.

They reached the top of the steps and walked through the portico of the former temple. Music was drifting from the wide-open doors, the steady beat of the drums chopping its way through the lilt of flutes and lyres. Xena looked at Ares again in the rich golden torchlight, and saw his jaw twitch and tighten. She reached over and took his hand, feeling his warm fingers tremble in hers. It hit her how different he looked now. What if one of his former priests saw him, and didn't recognize him? Would that be even worse?

So different... It wasn't just the tiny wrinkles near his eyes and mouth or the other traces of mortality on his skin, or the glint of silver on his temples, or the little tuft of hair sticking out on the side of his head -- she wanted to smooth it over but wondered if it would only make him more self-conscious. He needed a haircut. But there was something else ... it was almost as if his face, his eyes, all of him had once been encased in a cold hard shell, and now it had fallen off or melted away, leaving him -- no, not soft, but exposed, vulnerable ... human. She squeezed his hand tighter as they stepped through the doors into the temple's round anteroom.

"Hey, hey, hey," said the burly-looking attendant, poking her in the shoulder with a fat finger. She glared at him and he jerked his hand back. "Didntcha see the sign? No weapons allowed." He pointed to the chakram at her belt.

"That's not a weapon," Ares said cheerfully. "That's a fashion accessory."

"Come on, lady -- don't give me any trouble..."

Xena smirked, her spirits lifting a little. "You heard what he said. Watch it -- it's a sharp accessory," she added as the attendant reached out tentatively to touch the edge of the chakram.

He shifted his eyes from her to Ares and back and finally sighed. "All right, go on."

Crossing the anteroom, they reached the main hall, the music floating around them as the drums fell silent for a moment.

It was quite a sight, the black and silver and red everywhere, the air aglow with dozens of lights, the men and women dancing and drinking, the quick-footed serving girls carrying trays with silver goblets or wine-filled helmets-turned-pitchers. Two columns looming behind the altar had become pedestals for large brass cages, a busty girl in a tiny leopard-spotted skirt and top writhing in one and a muscle boy in a matching loincloth in the other. The drumbeat picked up again, bursting out of two alcoves on opposite sides of the hall, and the dancing sped up. Several female voices soared above this sea of sound; turning her head, Xena saw five women in sleek black and silver standing on the altar-top, baying a popular song as they swayed a little to the music, their faces ablaze in reflections from the firepit in front of the altar.

She threw a cautious glance at Ares. He was looking around, mouth agape. Then his eyes rested on the black stone wolf with a garland of fake red and black flowers draped around its snarling muzzle. He started laughing -- not bitterly, not hysterically, but with what seemed like genuine, almost helpless merriment. It made her laugh, too.

"Ooohhh..." Ares wiped the tears from his eyes, and looked at her with a sly smirk. "You know something -- I approve."

"You do, huh?"

"Especially of the flute girls."

"I bet." She grinned at him, still holding his hand.

"Hey. Wanna dance?"

She had to go back -- Gabrielle was back at the inn, alone... "Ares -- I don't know -- "

"Oh come on." He drew an arm around her waist, pulling her toward him. Then, the music stopped.

The flutes and lyres died first; then the singers' voices were abruptly cut off on a jarringly dissonant chord, and, looking in their direction, Xena saw them scramble rather ungraciously off the altar. Finally the drums rattled to a halt; she noticed an attendant signaling frantically to the drummers. All that remained was the puzzled din of voices, the sharp tapping of shoe heels on the stone floor, and the clinking of goblets, but even these sounds were beginning to hush. She stepped back from Ares, still holding his hand.

She felt cold inside. It had something to with --

"My lord Ares!"

Ares' hand jerked slightly in her grasp.

The scattered gasps in the crowd dissipated into a silence in which someone's hurried steps echoed dully through the hall.

A tall, broad-shouldered, dark-haired man was walking toward them, carrying something in his hands. His legs seemed a little unsteady, and when he dropped to his knees before Ares it looked as if he had collapsed rather than knelt deliberately. His lips were trembling, his eyes wide with mortal terror. He raised his hands, and Xena saw that he was holding a small silver tray in his hands with a gob of red jelly-like substance on it. The realization of what it was came like a hard punch to the chest.

"My lord Ares," the man rasped. "It is my honor to offer you this humble gift -- "

How the hell did a priest of Ares in a town on the edge of Greece get his hands on ambrosia? The question scurried across Xena's mind and settled somewhere in the back of it, to be retrieved later. The pain spread through her, bright and searing. Of course -- she had always known this moment would come.

Ares licked his lips almost convulsively, his eyes riveted on the silver tray, and it seemed to Xena that she could see some of that cold hardness return and set into his face.

She'd been going to give him a haircut...

She had no right to stand in his way. He was born and made to be a god. He had given it up for her, and now he would get it back.

Maybe it was best this way, for everyone. Best for him ... certainly best for Gabrielle. Lowering her eyes, she saw herself coming back to the inn, looking at Ares' empty room ... she wondered what would be worse, to go through his meager mortal possessions or just to leave them there, to be picked apart by the innkeeper and the servants. The pain sharpened. But maybe, in the end, it was best for her, too. At least she would stop chasing the impossible dream of a life with Ares -- of having both Gabrielle and Ares in her life.

She let go of his hand.

The small crimson lump twinkled softly, winking at him, and Ares knew that he couldn't look away even if he tried. He also knew that the shimmer wasn't just from the torchlight. No, this was a glow no human craft could have faked ... the real thing. It all came back to him: the splendor of Olympus and the ruthless magnificence of the Halls of War; the thrill of striding storm-like through a battlefield, urging warriors on to kill and die, igniting their rage and feeling it flow back from them into his own immortal blood; the sense that he had within him a force unbound by space and time, a power that made the world his playground. One couldn't possibly describe this to a mortal, any more than one could describe the color red to someone born blind. But he knew what it was like, he still remembered, and he felt a jab of panic at the thought that this memory was slipping away from him. Maybe some day, if he stayed mortal, he'd forget completely.

This was his chance, then. He could let this little piece of jelly dissolve under his tongue, filling his mouth with its thick tangy sweetness, and the power would fill his body again, burning away every pain, every weakness, every mortal flaw. His humiliation at the Amazons' hands, the terror that had racked him when he was on his knees waiting to die ... all that would fade into a mist, the memories still there but their sting gone. And those other ghosts of death and suffering that had harassed him lately -- memories that left him torn between shame at his past and shame at his regrets -- they'd lose their power too, once he knew that death and suffering were no longer his own lot.

Or would they? Maybe some of his mortal instincts would survive ... maybe, if he went back to playing with his toy soldiers of flesh and blood, he would never quite be able to forget that he had been like them once, and knew too much of their pain and terror. What then? If he regained his godhood and couldn't do his job anymore, what could he do?

He could risk it. He had been mortal before, if only for a short while, and had gotten his godhood back, and things had returned to normal ... almost. But maybe he didn't want things to return to normal... What sort of nonsense was that?

Ares reached out -- it seemed to him that he was moving with an unnatural slowness, as if underwater -- and took the tray from the priest's unsteady hands. His own hand shook a little, in yet another mortifying reminder of his weakness. His thumb pressed on the tray, almost touching the ambrosia. It wasn't just that he wanted to be a god; all of him, spirit and flesh, craved godhood, craved to feel the rush of power shoot through his body -- it was something like mortal hunger and thirst, or sexual longing, only far, far stronger. He had never wanted anything so much -- except for --

Suddenly, he realized that Xena was no longer holding his hand. He made himself take his eyes off the ambrosia, and looked at her.

She stood stiffly, her hands clasped in front of her, her face still -- so beautiful ... so sad.

He wanted to reassure her that she wouldn't lose him, that he would always love her -- he had loved her before when he was a god, why would that change? Only -- would she let herself love the God of War? Maybe she could become a goddess with him, maybe they could split it ... but no, she wouldn't, he knew her too well. Dammit, if he could only talk to her... if they had only been alone...    He became conscious of the silent crowd around him, all those people gaping, their faces frozen in shock and greedy anticipation. They'd be talking about it forever. Ares, God of War, had to ask his girlfriend's permission before he got his godhood back. Right.

For no special reason, the memory of one particular moment sprang up in his mind: how, just before Gabrielle got back to the campsite by the lake, he was sitting with Xena, cleaning his vest while she was polishing her armor, and they were talking about ... what was it? -- oh yeah -- fishing -- she had told him he was getting really good at it, and he teased her about getting better than her, and she laughed and punched him in the arm.

He could become a god, and she might -- might -- still share his bed sometimes. But it would never be like that again. Never.

Another moment came back to Ares then: the time he regained his godhood on Sisyphus' island, with Xena's help, after his first bout with mortality. I won't forget this ... those were the last words he had spoken as a mortal. Yes, you will, she replied, her eyes filled with same sadness he saw there now, the same quiet resigned pain. And he remembered what she said to him afterwards. It's your loss, Ares.  For a while, you weren't just mortal -- you were human.

Their eyes met again. Xena nodded a little, as if to say, Go ahead.

He wasn't sure how long he had been standing like this, the tray with the ambrosia in his hand. A few barely audible whispers and murmurs rolled through the crowd, and Geryon -- he had suddenly remembered the priest's name -- cautiously raised his head and gave him a puzzled glance.

His whole body, and most of his mind, screamed in protest at what he was going to do. Shut up, he told them.

His jaws refused to move at first, and his mouth was horribly dry, but he finally managed to give a reasonable approximation of a laugh and then to speak.

"Sorry, pal," he said, thrusting the tray back toward Geryon. "You've got the wrong guy."

The look of utter bewilderment on the priest's normally dignified face was comical enough, but Ares had already turned toward Xena, only vaguely aware of the murmurs rising and swelling up around him. Her eyes were very wide, her lips trembling a little -- he had seen that look on her face before, on Olympus, when he had just given up his godhood to save her and the ones she loved. Only it wasn't quite the same look; still stunned, still moved, but there was less disbelief in it, and more tenderness.

A gaunt woman ran up to Geryon to help him up, fixing Ares with an irate glare. The priest reached out, a little shakily, to take the tray back.

No, wait a minute -- he couldn't just leave a chunk of ambrosia here at the temple; there was no telling what psycho was going to get hold of it and gain the powers of a full god...

"Hold on," he said. "Why don't we make a proper sacrifice to the gods, huh?"

The tray arced in the air and disappeared into the fire-pit before the altar. The chorus of gasps turned to shouts and squeals as the flames rose, flaring scarlet and then gold before settling down.

It was gone -- really gone.

He looked at Xena again. Her eyes and her smile said, Well done.

"Geryon?" A middle-aged blond man with a neatly trimmed beard, clad in an elegant blue coat, stepped forward from the front of the crowd.

"M- m- m- " the priest stammered, his features working frantically. "M-m-mayor Deon..."

"What in Tartarus is going on around here?"

"Everything's cool." Ares had no problem thinking quickly now. "It was an act -- all part of the show." He flashed the spectators his most wickedly charming grin. "You bought it, didn't you? You actually thought I was Ares. Wow. I'm flattered."

There were scattered, still-tentative laughs in the crowd. Ares himself started to laugh, quite genuinely this time -- it was hard to believe but he felt good -- and then Xena was laughing too, and more and more people joined in, even the mayor, and finally Geryon too twisted his mouth into something resembling a snicker.

Ares reached over and took Xena's hand.

"Let's get out of here."

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