* Even now, I sometimes find it hard to believe. Even now, after all this time traveling together, I find myself in awe. She's so dark and mysterious. So beautiful and deadly. I see her standing before me now, a tall form bathed in pale moonlight, the metal filigree of her leather armor reflecting firelight. So many people know her by reputation only, a reputation she earned through the blood of the innocent and the terrible, lethal skill of her sword. They fear her for what she once was --- a fierce warlord, leader of armies, merciless in her single-minded quest for vengeance. But she's not that person anymore. They call her Xena, the Warrior Princess. I call her friend ... *
"Gabrielle?" Xena called, glancing her way.
"Yes?" Gabrielle returned, reluctantly dragging her attention away from the parchment in her lap. Her mind thoroughly immersed, she accomplished the separation with only the greatest difficulty.
"I think it's time you learned how to groom Argo."
"Now?" the girl asked plaintively. The writing stylus she held seemed full of promise tonight --- a promise that suddenly seemed in imminent danger of being lost.
"Well, it's either that, or you can gut the rabbit."
Sighing in resignation, Gabrielle wished a silent, yet heartfelt, farewell to her muse.
"That's not much of a choice," she grumped good-naturedly, gently rolling the parchment and tying it with an emerald ribbon. She carefully placed it in a fur-lined pouch. The stylus and ink went into a smaller, leather-lined pouch.
"But there's not that much to it," Xena continued reasonably as the younger woman joined her. She ran the curry brush across Argo's golden hide, demonstrating. "It's not really much different from brushing your own hair. You want to try?"
"Are you sure she'll let me?" Gabrielle asked uncertainly. "She tried to bite me the last time I did this, remember? Besides, you know she doesn't like me very much."
Xena smiled, "You were using dried grass last time. Believe me, when it comes to getting the sweat and travel dust out of her coat, whoever's holding the curry brush is her best friend. Go ahead," she coaxed, extending the brush.
Gabrielle took it ... hesitantly ... while gracing her tall friend with a skeptically knit brow. Xena returned to the campfire, and so having been left with the dubious choice between gutting the rabbit or grooming Argo, weeelllll ... Gabrielle raised the brush high, then eased it tentatively down across the mare's shoulder. Argo snaked her long neck back to eye the bard with undisguised suspicion; she, too, remembered the dreaded 'grass' incident.
"It's OK," Gabrielle reassured her. "Really. I've got your brush this time, see, girl? I'll get the hang of it. Honest." Unconvinced, the mare rudely snorted her disbelief and went back to grazing. Gabrielle decided to try again, carefully slipping the curry brush across the horse's rounded side; Argo's flesh twitched spasmodically along its wake. As she raised the brush for yet a third pass, the mare grumbled, shifted her considerable weight, and flipped the long tip of her tail straight into Gabrielle's face.
"Arghhh ...!"
Gabrielle stumbled back a step, sputtering horse tail out of her mouth. Rounding on Xena, she said accusingly, "You see that? I told you she doesn't like me."
Xena only smiled and continued preparing the rabbit. Without glancing up, she said, "You weren't doing much more than tickling her --- try putting some elbow-grease into it this time. Think of it as massaging the soreness out of her muscles at the same time you're cleaning her coat."
Gabrielle frowned, considering Xena's advice. She looked at Argo.
Argo looked back.
It was the mare who brought their impasse to an end by snorting, stamping her hoof, and quite deliberately turning her hindquarters to the girl. Folding her arms in a huff, Gabrielle drew breath to begin an impassioned 'I told you so' speech; however, seeing the open amusement on her friend's face, she merely sighed instead and moved to sit down beside her.
"Why is it," she asked glumly, "that horse always makes me feel like I'm the dumb one?" Xena only smiled and continued working a skewer through the length of the hare's body. Across the fire, Argo whickered softly. Gabrielle shot the horse a reproachful glance and called, "And nobody asked your opinion! You know, Xena, sometimes I think she deliberately ..."
"Shhh," Xena whispered.
"But I was just going to say I thought she ..."
"Shhh," Xena repeated more emphatically. She nodded toward the mare. "Look."
Confused, Gabrielle fell silent. She saw that Argo had shifted her position; noticed, too, the curious ears pricking toward the trees to their right. As the two women watched, the mare whiffled again and stamped a hoof.
All equine insults forgotten, Gabrielle whispered, "What is it, Xena?"
Xena's eyes narrowed. She replied softly, "I'd say we're about to have company."
When the boy entered the clearing, he knew what he found there was too good to be true. A horse, with riding gear arranged neatly on the ground beside it. A warm, crackling campfire. And best of all ...
.. food.
It had to be a dream. He closed his eyes against the vision, but the aroma of roasting meat didn't go away. It made his stomach cramp painfully and his mouth water. When he opened his eyes and found it still there, he fell on it like a ravenous beast.
"Help yourself." Xena stepped only part way from the shadows, arms folded loosely across her chest. Caught between darkness and light, shadow and dancing flame, she might have been a goddess come to earth.
Or a demon.
Startled the child fell backwards with a thunk and a clank --- a thunk as his backside landed on the hardpacked ground, a clank as the oversized armor he wore was rattled by the impact. He shoved the helmet back up so he could see again and commanded, "Now you stay back. I'm armed." Giving credence to the threat, he laid one palm against the hilt of a shortsword tied at his waist. Tied with rope, Xena noted wryly. It was a wonder the child hadn't skewered himself in the fall.
Gabrielle chose that moment to make her own reappearance, and though she presented a far less imposing figure than the dark-clad warrior, the child seemed equally mistrustful of them both.
"It's OK," Gabrielle said quickly, offering the child her friendliest, most reassuring smile. "Really. We're harmless. Well, actually, what I mean is ... I'm harmless. And she ... well, she won't hurt you."
Xena sighed and rolled her eyes skyward.
The bard then placed one hand across her heart, saying with simple sincerity, "My name is Gabrielle," and then, indicating the tall warrior, she added with obvious pride, "and this is Xena."
"Yeah, well ... don't worry, I'm not staying. I just need .. I just want to warm my hands by your fire a little, that's all." Sullen now that his windfall had been snatched just as quickly away, the child pushed himself back to a kneeling posture and extended his small hands, palms out, to the warmth of the fire. His eyes, however, maintained a suspicious glare in their direction.
Gabrielle smiled, "We just put the rabbit on a little while ago, but you're more than welcome to ... to stay ... until ... Xena?" She quietly shifted her attention to the gentle rustling of brush nearby. She whispered, "Xena, I hear ..."
"Get your staff, Gabrielle." Xena's voice was low, barely audible.
Deadly.
Gabrielle hurried to where her amazon staff leaned against Argo's saddle and hefted the weapon before her. The child glanced from one to the other of them, his eyes growing wide with panic.
"It's them," he mumbled, more to himself than to either of the women. "Oh ... I gotta go!" He jumped up and rushed past Gabrielle, fleeing from the camp.
And was blocked by a shadow sliding from the undergrowth. In the golden glow cast by the flickering campfire, the shadow quickly solidified into human form and substance. Dark and grizzled, the brute was. Filthy beyond belief. He took them all in at a glance, but his attention was for the boy alone.
He grinned an ugly, yellow-toothed grin and chuckled, "You led us a merry chase, lad. Spirit like that'll fetch your master a hefty price up Korash way."
The boy jerked his shortsword free of the rope-sling, holding the blade before him in an awkward two-handed grasp. Seeing the child's bold stance, the thug guffawed rudely and moved forward to apprehend him.
But stopped abruptly when Xena glided into his path.
"Outta my way, woman," the man snarled. He started around her; again, she barred his way. It was then that he seemed to actually notice her for the first time. Scowling, he gazed down the length of his greasy, bulbous nose and into her face.
Xena smiled up at him, a sweet little smile that had nothing whatsoever of niceness in it. Very softly she asked, "Do you have a name?"
Clearly confused --- well, Gabrielle decided, with some it didn't take much --- the man put hands on hips, cleared his throat and grandly declared, "I am Odius. Odius Maximus."
"Well, Odius Maximus," Xena continued demurely, "off-hand, I'd say the boy doesn't want to go with you."
Odius harrumphed churlishly. "The boy's a slave. A runaway slave," he amended pointedly. "'Off-hand,' I'd say he's got no choice." Again he started around her. Again she blocked him. Hands balling into angry fists, he barked, "You're playing a dangerous game here, woman!"
His outburst elicited nothing more than a sweetly suggested, "Why don't you go on back to wherever it was you came from, Odius? Tell your master the boy belongs to Xena now."
"Xena?" The confusion increased noticeably. "You mean, the Warrior Princess?"
"I've been called that a time or two."
The thug clearly didn't believe her. He sneered, "If you're Xena, then where's your army?"
Eyes widening innocently, Xena queried, "Why? Do I look like I need an army?"
Odius answered by jerking a dagger from his belt and holding it between them, blade tip aimed squarely at her nose. He growled nastily, "Little girls shouldn't play men's games."
"You're right," Xena returned, her smile slipping into something far less pleasant. "And neither should fools."
The attack came with lightning swiftness, then was over just as quickly as it started. Xena slapped aside the hand grasping the dagger, sending the weapon flying, and in the same instant brought her knee up to connect in a sickeningly solid THWUNCH! with the brute's groin. Odius Maximus grabbed convulsively at his cruelly misused manhood. His mouth puckered, his eyes watered. His cheek twitched once, spasmodically, then twice, and a visible shudder ran down his spine. His eyes slowly crossed and rolled up into his head as, moaning pathetically, he sank down into the dirt. His getting back up didn't seem an immediate concern.
However, the second man entering the clearing was.
"Xena!"
Gabrielle shouted the warning even as Xena whirled, dropping into a fighting stance.
"Hey, like ... whoa there, warrior babe. Peace and love. Chill, ya know?" The man held up his hands, palms out, to show the women exactly how harmless and devoid of weapons he really was. Brown eyes peered out from a face covered in dark bushy fur, topped by hair that was long and equally bushy. His clothes were well-worn but clean. All in all, he seemed a prince compared to his compatriot.
Frowning in astonishment, Gabrielle lowered her staff and asked, "Kanabis?"
"What? Hey, you know me?"
Xena frowned, too, but more in disbelief than anything else.
"You know this man, Gabrielle?" she asked, straightening.
"Yes. I mean, no. I mean ..."
"Hey," the beard bristled up and out, allowing a pearly white grin to peak through, "aren't you that little bard chick from Poteideia?"
Gabrielle smiled in recognition and, with newfound certainty, told Xena, "Kanabis, son of Haenep the farmer. All us kids used to look up to him."
The boy, in the meantime, was looking as though he thought each and every one of them was insane.
"Well," he muttered, "I'll ... just be on my way."
"Hey, hold up there, little dude!" Kanabis exclaimed. He stepped toward the boy, but halted when he saw the wilting glare in Xena's eye. More politely, he continued, "I mean, we're supposed to take you back to the caravan, remember?"
"I won't go with you. I'll die first."
"Well, you gotta take that up with Odius when he, um ... wakes up. I mean, this whole crazy slave scene is his gig." Kanabis grinned broadly, raising his hands outward. "Hey, like, I'm just along for the ride, you know?"
"Just along for the ride?" Xena repeated curiously.
Kanabis shrugged. Odius groaned.
Worried, the child scooted closer to Xena and whispered, "You're not gonna let them take me ... are you?"
Xena's eyes hardened as she gazed from Kanabis down to the still prone Odius, then back up again.
"No," she stated with quiet certainty. "No one's taking you anywhere."
* With his eventual return to consciousness, the oafish brute calling himself Odius Maximus discovered he was bound hands-to-feet across his horse's back. Kanabis commented that it seemed a terribly uncomfortable way to travel, to which I heartily agreed. Xena told the brute to inform the slave master not to come after the boy ever again. That next time, she wouldn't be nearly so hospitable to the messenger. With that said, she slapped the horse's rump and sent the vociferously protesting Odius Maximus on his way. *
"Man," Kanabis said, thoughtfully scratching through the dense forest sprouting across his scalp, "Ahmed's gonna be royally P-O'ed over this one."
"Ahmed?" Gabrielle queried.
"Yeah. Ahmed ben Tushaak. The big kahuna. You know, the slave boss."
"That's not a Greek name," Gabrielle observed pointedly.
"Oh, no. He's like, I don't know. Egyptian or Arabic. Or like, maybe from Macadamia."
"You mean Macedonia?" Gabrielle suggested.
"Naw, it's the place with all the dancing girls. Or, you know, someplace like that. He even rides one of those funny looking Arabic horses. You know, the ones with the hump on their back?" Gabrielle shrugged and shook her head, never having heard of such a fanciful equine. "Oh, yeah," Kanabis continued enthusiastically, "nasty critters, those Arabic horses. They, you know, like ... spit and stuff. Kinda like that pony your sister used to ride."
"Jewel," Gabrielle grinned nostalgically. "Gee, I haven't thought about her in years."
Xena decided it was time to leave the two alone for awhile to reminisce, confident that in the process Gabrielle would manage to find out whatever they needed to know about the slave traders. She returned to the campfire where she found the rabbit in dire need of a good rotation. An instant later, the child dropped down on his haunches beside her.
"Why'd you do that?" he asked with all childhood's bluntness, pushing the oversized helmet back from his face. "Help me out like that, I mean?"
She glanced at him from the corner of one eye. He was a pretty, thin-framed lad of about twelve, not so much older than her own son, and yet ... but down that path lay only old heartache, and guilt. With effort, she pushed all thought of Solan away and simply said, "You looked like you could use a little help."
"But he told you I was a runaway slave."
"I don't happen to believe in slavery."
"Oh. Good. But just so you know, though, I'm not. A slave, I mean." The child drew a deep breath, let it out again. Speaking quickly, as if that alone would shield him from painful memory, he blurted, "See ... raiders attacked my village last week; they burned it to the ground. They torched everything. During the confusion, they captured as many of the villagers as they could --- rounded us up like sheep in a pen, and then culled out the young, strong ones. My dad managed to hide me away, but he ... they killed him."
Xena gave studious attention to turning the rabbit. It seemed the only privacy she could grant him.
"I took my dad's armor and weapons after ... you know, after he died. I figured I might need them." A small rock was picked up, was pitched into the shadows, and the child's voice turned icy with hatred. "They took my brother, too, Xena. He's ... Tilden's only nine."
Xena did look at him then, and what she saw burning in that child's eyes sickened her. It was something too angry, too bitter to be staining the soul of one so young.
The boy stated emphatically, "None of them are slaves! They're all freeborn citizens. Just ... villagers, you know? And farmers. Or at least they were, up until a week ago." He sighed, a sigh redolent with the weight of so much responsibility. "I have to help them. I ..." He shrugged, either unable --- or unwilling --- to go on.
"I know," Xena murmured sympathetically. "Because if you don't do something, you don't think anyone else will."
Shades of the past ...
The child nodded gravely.
"Well," Xena continued, pausing to poke at the red-hot embers with a stick, "you won't have to help them by yourself."
Startled by her announcement, the boy looked up, and Xena found hope battling against suspicion on his young face. After all he had been through, how could he trust anyone openly, without fear?
"You mean you'll help me? You and your friend?"
"Yes," Xena assured him. "Yes, we'll help you." Hearing that, the boy turned away from her, perhaps not knowing how to respond ... perhaps, in truth, not even believing her. He stared into the crackling flames for so long, Xena decided their conversation had ended. Then came a response so softly murmured, she couldn't make it out. "What was that?" she asked gently.
"My name," the child answered, serious hazel eyes turning back to focus on curious blue ones. "My name is Ilyena."
"Ilyena ...?"
A nod, and the helmet was removed.
And despite everything, Xena found herself smiling as she watched two long auburn braids tumble down the girl's back ...
"Whoa! You mean she was, like, a chick this whole time?" Kanabis took a long drag on the ... whatever it was ... held between his fingers, and burst into another helpless fit of giggles.
Xena scowled, "He's getting worse."
"I know," Gabrielle conceded. She glanced apprehensively at the former Poteideian, then leaned toward Xena and Ilyena. Lowering her voice confidentially, she told them, "His whole family was a little ... off, if you know what I mean. Especially during the fall harvest."
"What happened then?" Xena queried.
Gabrielle hooked a thumb toward Kanabis and said, "That."
Xena's eyes rolled heavenward.
"But he will help us?" Ilyena whispered worriedly. "You're sure?"
Gabrielle nodded encouragingly. "He's not a bad person. We can trust him. No, really," she added, seeing the girl's doubt.
"So long as he remembers his part," Xena said beneath one pointedly arched eyebrow.
"Hey, no problema," Kanabis assured them. He blew a long plume of smoke out through his nose, coughed, and grinned, "Like I said before, this whole slave thing was Odius' idea. Afterall, he is my brother-in-law, so I'm kinda obliga ..."
"You married a Spartan?" Gabrielle interrupted curiously.
"Oh, you mean that 'Maximus' deal? Naw. It's 'cos my sister --- his wife --- she has a 'thing' for Spartans. Before some Spartan soldiers passed through our village awhile back, he was just plain Odius."
Gabrielle's jaw dropped in complete astonishment. "You mean that lughead is married to Synsamia?"
Kanabis nodded. "Six years, four kids." He shrugged. "Who'da thought it, eh?" He took another puff before he went on, "Anyway, this whole slave gig was his brainchild. I just went along so I'd have the protection of a caravan --- since I was headed to Korash anyway." He grinned happily, rolling the small, gently smoking stick between thumb and forefinger. "I had a righteous crop this year, ladies! So since I had so much to spare, I decided to bring a whole packful to sell in the port markets. The pack weighs a good ten stone, enough to make a whole army happy. Even Spartans," he giggled.
"Lovely," Xena intoned grimly.
"So that's where my head's at," Kanabis finished jovially. "If we can get me and my stash to Korash and free those folks on the way then ... hey, like, cool. Ya know?"
"Yes," Gabrielle grinned uncomfortably. "We, um ... we know."
"Alright," Xena said into the sudden stillness, "then we're all clear on what we have to do?" Each of the three nodded agreement. "Good," she said. "Then we should all get some rest now. We'll set out first thing in the morning."
Ahmed ben Tushaak stroked his beard thoughtfully. He circled the newcomers very slowly, displaying, he felt, his haughty elegance to absolute perfection. He paused briefly beside each person, studied them --- they certainly suffered excruciating discomfort under his intense, steel-eyed scrutiny --- then he moved on to the next.
Kanabis, of course, he already knew. A fool, but a harmless fool. Any friend of the idiot Spartan's had to be a fool.
The slave sitting astride the horse he also knew, although before he had mistakenly believed it to be male. Now, deprived of the concealing armor, he realized it was indeed a young female, scarcely into its first bloom of womanhood. Not a great beauty, he thought, but the bright red hair would make up for that at the slave auctions. Red hair of so brilliant a hue was a rare and much sought-after commodity, and would certainly bring a rich price.
The girl with the strawberry-blonde hair was another matter entirely. She intrigued him. Young and pretty, she was. Strong and shapely. Even though the warrior woman had named her, too, a slave, there was spirit in her eyes, the sign of an unbroken will. Conquering that will and taming that spirit could be a delightful challenge for a dedicated man, with delightful rewards throughout the whole delicious process. Something in him quivered elatedly at the very prospect.
Of course, first he would have to buy her.
And that brought him back to the warrior woman herself. She, too, intrigued him, but in an entirely different way. He saw only danger in the way she carried herself; contempt in the curl of her lip, unveiled animosity in her eyes. She was not intimidated by his grandeur, nor did she seem even remotely impressed with his elegantly styled robes and regal bearing.
What in Allah's name was wrong with her?
He looked her up and down, then up again ... slowly ... so that any seemly woman would have been horrified by the discourtesy thus offered. This, however, was no seemly woman. There was no modesty shown in the cut of her leather armor, which revealed arms and legs indecently exposed for all to behold. Whatsmore, she met his gaze boldly, as though she actually had the audacity to consider herself his equal. As though any woman ever born could be the equal of a man.
Blessed Allah, but these Grecian women were an immoral lot!
"So," he asked slowly, his words thickly spiced with the accent of his homeland, "what exactly is it you want of me then?"
"Convenience," the warrior returned coolly. "I plan on selling these two in Korash, but I'd like to get some sleep sometime between now and then. They've tried to slip away twice already. In a heavily armed encampment like this, they wouldn't dare try it a third time. Your man," she added, indicating Kanabis, "said you might be willing to let us ride with your caravan."
"Possibly. However," Ahmed said, feeling his way with great care, "technically, you should know the flame-haired one is rightfully mine."
Raising her brows quizzically, the warrior glanced briefly past her shoulder at the slave in question before replying, "So much yours, that I found her running free through the woods, armed with a sword and bent on using it to slice open your throat?" Her voice took on an unmistakable mocking humor as she added, "So much yours, you didn't even know she was a girl?"
A brazen statement. He wondered how brazen she would be with his scimitar poised at her throat?
What a tantalizing image ...
Instead, he cleared his throat, then shrugged as if the whole matter were really beneath his attention.
"I have no objection to your accompanying this caravan," he intoned with the air of a raja bequeathing favors on an abjectly undeserving subject. "However, I will require some form of recompense."
"Oh, yeah," Kanabis said, stepping forward. He grinned, "I already got that squared for you. See, Xena here --- the warrior babe --- she's agreed to give you ten percent of her profits from the sale of the two slave chicks. Plus she'll jump into the skirmish if we, like, you know, have trouble along the way. Get attacked or something." He paused, flashing a triumphant grin, and finished, "Cool, huh?"
Ahmed sniffed disdainfully. Ten percent indeed! A paltry offering, hardly suitable to earn the favors of his venerable station. However ... the blonde offered in payment might be another matter, one more worthy of his exalted consideration ...
He effusively offered, "The issue can be debated later this evening, after camp is made." And with a dramatic swirl of silken robes, he remounted his kneeling camel. Well- trained and placidly obedient, the beast lurched gracelessly to its feet. Aware of the striking impression he created --- dignified and imminently regal on the rare albino camel, robes resplendent in the brilliant afternoon sunshine --- Ahmed ben Tushaak lightly tapped the animal's rump with a camel whip and off he went.
He did not deign to look back at them. There was no need. He could feel their awestruck eyes gazing after him in absolute fascination.
"Can you believe that guy?" Gabrielle said, gazing after the Arab in absolute fascination. "I've never seen such a pompous, tyrannical little despot before in my entire life. Oh, and you were right about that horse. Yech!" she added with an exaggerated shudder.
"Yeah," Kanabis grinned. "Ahmed's a real son of a Bacchai. Least he was in a good mood, though." He leaned in conspiratorially. "You should see him when he's not. Zeus, but that dude can rant!"
"I see my brother," Ilyena murmured, ignoring the others' banter. "They have him bound in chains. Xena, they're all in chains."
"I know," Xena answered quietly, watching the ragged, dirty collection of humans stumble forward under the whips of mounted guards.
It was a heartrending sight.
* For hours, we three traveled alongside the slave caravan, playing the roles Xena had given us. My old friend from Poteideia had long since rejoined his fellows and taken up his usual duties, his job being to convince them all that nothing whatsoever was amiss. Ilyena grew increasingly pensive as the afternoon passed ... far too melancholy for a child of her years ... and I became concerned. I tried to cheer her with a story, but I don't think she even heard me. Her attention was drawn to those pathetic souls trudging ahead of us, among them Ilyena's own friends and neighbors, and to the one poor soul in particular --- a small boy named Tindel, chained with the others, crowded and shoved and stepped on by the others. Bound as they were, there was nothing they could do to prevent it. Bound as we were, constrained to wait, there was nothing we could do either. At least, not yet. But when nightfall came ... *
"Oh, great," Gabrielle muttered indignantly.
"Hey, like, don't freak on me, Gabrielle," Kanabis said in apology. "I'm just passing the message on, that's all. Ahmed wants Xena to be his guest at dinner tonight, and he wants you to help serve it, that's all. It's not like he's asking for your hand in marriage or something."
Hands on hips, Gabrielle huffed, "Well, at least if he did, I could just say no and have it over and done with. What if he ... gods, what if he wants me to put a grape in his mouth?"
"Then," Xena said with a crooked grin, "I'd suggest you put a grape in his mouth." Unfolding her legs, she rose to her full height. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting the world into ever-darkening shadow, and the bustling activity of making camp for the night was in full bloom. Their own campsite was somewhat removed from that of the caravan, carefully situated away from the main grouping. The seclusion would be necessary to bring their plan to fruition.
Xena turned to where Ilyena sat staring into their modest campfire, her attitude one of brooding solitude. The child had been that way since ... well, since she'd first beheld her beloved young brother in chains.
"Ilyena," the warrior said, then more firmly, "Ilyena."
"I'm sorry," the girl exclaimed with a start.
"It's time," Xena told her firmly, "but you'll have to gather the morpheus root by yourself --- Gabrielle has to come with me. You remember what I told you to look for?"
"Yes, I ... I remember. The little star-shaped flowers, in shades of pale blue. I can do it."
"Good girl. Kanabis?"
"Yep. I'll swing back here after I take you to Ahmed's tent and get the other herbs boiling. Say, you sure this is gonna work?"
"It'll work," Xena assured him. Assured them all. "A freshly dug morpheus root, boiled, releases a powerful sleeping potion. The other herbs will mask the flavor. Just make sure you've strained all the root out before mixing it with the guards' wine tonight." Xena had counted nine scruffy looking guards, including the oaf, Odius Maximus, and two immaculately garbed --- and dangerously adept --- Arabs serving as Ahmed's personal escort. There were also Ahmed's servants, five in number, who might or might not fight in their master's defense. All in all, with so many innocent lives at stake, there were too many opponents to take on in single combat.
Kanabis said, "Don't sweat it, Xena honey. It's good as done."
The 'honey' elicited a curious raising of one eyebrow, but rather than grace it with a comment, Xena turned instead to Ilyena. The girl was nervous and jittery, seemingly frightened now that the time to act had actually come.
"It'll all be over soon," Xena said with unusual gentleness. She put one hand on the girl's shoulder, gave the shoulder a light, reassuring squeeze. "I promise."
Ilyena swallowed, and nodded. She even managed a small, half-hearted smile.
"Alright then," Xena said briskly. "Let's get started." And with that the group split, with Ilyena scurrying off into the woods to search out the telltale signs of morpheus root, and Xena and Gabrielle setting off behind Kanabis in search of the Arab's tent. Gabrielle walked three careful paces behind Xena, her 'mistress,' and kept her eyes cast subserviently downward.
Ahmed ben Tushaak's tent was unmistakable in the small encampment --- it being the largest, most ornately decorated structure there --- but decorum had to be maintained, and courtesies preserved. It was required that guests be properly announced.
"My Lord," Kanabis proclaimed with a flourish and a bow, "may I present Xena, renowned Warrior Princess and scourge of Arcadia, and her groveling servant ..." Gabrielle shot Kanabis a wilting glance "... here for dinner per your command."
The Arab reclined like a monarch on satin pillows and silken cushions, surrounded by a bounteous display of his wealth in the form of artistically draped scarves and tapestries, intricately wrought statues, and handcarved chests. The cloying sweetness of frankincense clung to the air. On either side of him, two provocatively costumed slave girls awaited his least command while behind them, a male servant slowly waved a brightly ribboned palm frond to stir the air. Judging by the smoke and clanging of pots outside, the other two servants were hard at work preparing the night's feast.
"Please ... sit," Ahmed invited with a grandiose wave of one richly bejeweled hand. "And you, Kanabis, go." For once, Kanabis refrained from any flippant responses. With a sidewise glance Xena's way, he backed from the tent.
Good, Xena thought. Now it was just a matter of making it through dinner without giving in to the urge to smash her fist through the Arab's teeth. She stretched her lips in a fair approximation of a smile and lowered herself to one of the proffered cushions. Her hand was immediately filled with a goblet of ruby red wine, courtesy of one of the slave girls.
"I'm glad you came, Xena," Ahmed purred. "We have much to discuss."
"Oh?" Xena returned coolly. "Do we really?" She sipped at the wine, tasting for the subtle bitterness of drugging, but found the wine untainted. And of a very fine vintage. Seemingly as an afterthought, she snapped her fingers for Gabrielle, too, to sit.
"Oh, yes," Ahmed continued smoothly. He laid one hand, with coarse familiarity, across his slave's thigh. "I want to discuss the arrangement between us. The ... ten percent fee you arranged earlier with Kanabis."
"Oh? What about it?"
"The arrangement is unsatisfactory."
"You don't waste time, do you?"
"I don't believe in wasting anything." He leaned forward, away from the mound of pillows, and steepled his fingers before him. "May I be blunt?"
"Funny. I thought you already were."
Ahmed's eyes narrowed. He watched the warrior in calculating silence, his contempt plain for anyone to read. At last he announced, "I would have your girl attend me."
Gabrielle's only reaction was one quickly indrawn breath.
Xena had been expecting it. A blind man could've seen the way the Arab had scrutinized Gabrielle earlier that day; there was no mistaking that particular expression on a man's face. Keeping her eyes locked to Ahmed's, she motioned for Gabrielle to do as she'd been bidden. She heard her friend sigh in resignation, followed by the sound of her rising.
Ahmed's eyes could have swallowed the girl. "To me, slave," he murmured. With obvious reluctance, Gabrielle moved to his side. Ahmed held out his goblet. "More wine," he commanded in muted tones. Gabrielle glanced around, spotted the gilt decanter, and obediently filled the Arab's goblet to the brim. "You will sit here, beside me." Right on cue, the nearest slave girl slid unobtrusively away to make room for the bard. Gabrielle looked to Xena, swallowed hard, and slowly lowered herself to the vacated cushion. Ahmed smiled, and it was anything but pleasant. His searching hand found Gabrielle's thigh; she grimaced slightly, but managed not to pull away from his touch.
"I would have her use tonight," the Arab proclaimed as he again turned Xena's way. "In addition to the ten percent." And he said it with no more concern than a villager might ask to test the freshness of bread on market day.
The urge to put her fist through his teeth became almost overwhelming.
Instead, Xena lounged back into her pillows, goblet held loosely before her, and smiled sweetly. "Sorry," she said reasonably, "but I can't let you do that."
Ahmed ben Tushaak did not accept rejection well. He sneered, "She is a slave. But I will pay for her use, if that's what you require."
"Tsk tsk tsk. Ahmed," and Xena had the satisfaction of seeing his face grow inflamed with the uninvited familiarity, "you're a professional man. Surely you must know that a virgin brings a higher price than ... used merchandise."
Gabrielle shot Xena a shocked, wide-eyed glare as her cheeks flushed to scarlet. The fingers resting on her thigh tightened convulsively, and the Arab turned to examine the girl with renewed interest. As he did, Gabrielle let her expression slide back to a slave's quiet resignation. There was nothing she could do about the blush, however.
"All this, and a virgin, too?" Ahmed said softly, and raised one hand to brush lightly across her reddened cheek.
Apparently only Xena noticed the clenching ... and raising ... of Gabrielle's fist. The warrior cleared her throat --- loudly --- before the little bard gave in to anger and did something irreparably harmful to their plans. Thankfully, it worked. The hands of both people dropped as if scorched.
"In that case," the Arab said huskily, "I shall buy her from you. Now. Tonight."
"She's not for sale."
Ahmed's face grew even redder. He barked, "You mock me, woman! Simply name your price and I shall pay it."
"Master, dinner is prepared," came meekly from the tent's entryway. The two remaining servants bowed in, each one heavily laden with bowls of savory, steaming food.
Xena smiled, "I never discuss business over dinner, Ahmed. But perhaps afterwards ..."
"... We might come to some mutually satisfying arrangement?" Ahmed finished for her. "Very well, I will acquiesce to your desire. However, I warn you. I am a man used to having his way."
"Just as I am a woman accustomed to having hers." With a sultry smile, Xena raised her goblet high in toast.
Ilyena wasn't sure exactly when it had happened. She certainly hadn't planned on it happening.
She had been searching the forest, digging in the earth for what seemed hours, and she had gathered more than enough of the morpheus root. There seemed to be an overabundance of the herb growing in this part of the woods --- perhaps that was what had inspired the warrior woman's plan in the first place? --- and she had actually been headed back to their campsite. Sort of. Unfortunately, she was sort of lost, too.
No, not lost. Not precisely. More like ... turned around. Yes, just a little confused about direction, that's all. But not lost.
It's just that she had foraged farther than she had anticipated, and with the moon no more than a dim sliver in the sky, the night had grown so very dark.
She could still hear sounds from the slave caravan, so she couldn't have wandered too far away. She would just have to be cautious, and crafty, and follow the sounds back to camp without alerting the guards to her presence. But she could do it. After having come so far, and done so well, she wouldn't fail Tindel now.
And she would have made it, too. Easily. But then, she hadn't planned on having to see them, either.
Actually, she heard them first. Sobs in the night, the moans of hopeless souls. It drew her like a moth to flame, temporarily wiping out all thought of Xena's plan and the mission she had been sent on.
She crouched in the shadows, scarcely daring to breath, and parted the bushes with one slow hand.
They were still in chains. Even at night, trying to regain strength from the day's long march, they were kept bound together like the most miserable of animals. Horrible, horrible! Their suffering was a palpable thing, and she felt her eyes tearing in sympathy. And poor little Tindel, her own dear brother --- she saw him near the center of the group, huddled for warmth in the arms of some kind stranger, a stranger who had herself been reduced to slavery.
A sob choked her.
She clamped a hand across her mouth, fearing someone might hear. But thankfully there was no one nearby, no one here to ...
The hand grabbing her arm was like the falling of an executioner's ax.
And for all their careful planning, it was over just like that ...
"Again," said Ahmed.
Gabrielle stretched her lips in a thin smile, then slipped another grape into the Arab's mouth.
It was disgusting.
She glanced Xena's way, but there was nothing the warrior could do. Afterall, it wasn't like the guy was actually laying hands on her, or even trying to. He wouldn't dare, not with the Warrior Princess eyeing him like a hawk eyes a rabbit. And a tasty-looking little bunny at that.
Gabrielle allowed that the evening had actually passed rather well, all things considered. At least it had passed well if one didn't mind being talked about and bid upon like some prize filly at a horse fair.
At least he hadn't asked to look at her teeth. Yet.
"My final offer," Ahmed continued, "is six hundred dinars. How can you refuse six hundred dinars? The girl is hardly worth four hundred."
Gabrielle pursed her lips at the insult. The amused glimmer in Xena's eye didn't help.
"On the auction block in Korash," Xena replied smoothly, "the girl will easily bring fifteen hundred dinars. Or more."
"You're mad," Ahmed countered. "Just because she's a virgin ..."
Gabrielle sighed, wondering abstractly if she would ever live that 'virgin thing' down?
"... and young, and strong, and very pretty," Xena finished for the Arab. "And if I sold the two of them together as a pair ..."
"If you can find a brothel interested in pairs," Ahmed interjected sourly.
"... then I could easily double my profit."
"You're mad," the Arab repeated. Then, "Again," he commanded, glancing up at Gabrielle and simultaneously dropping open his jaw.
The bard pulled off a nice plump grape and rolled it between her fingers for just an instant, considering; then slipped it not between Ahmed's lips --- but tossed it straight down the dark tunnel of his throat.
Ahmed bolted upright, eyes bulging, frantically clawing at his neck.
"Oooops ... oh, goodness! Did I do that?" Gabrielle queried innocently. Four hundred dinars indeed! "Um, sorry ..." She glanced Xena's way, certain she would find a healthy dose of annoyance sparking from the warrior's blue eyes. Instead, she found her friend staring in fixed concentration at the topmost point of the tent while one corner of her lips twitched once, very slightly, then twitched again. For Xena, it was tantamount to uproarious laughter.
"Wheeeeeeee," Ahmed wheezed desperately, one hand clutching at his neck while the other flailed to Gabrielle's arm for support. "Wheee ... haa-aaa ... wheeeeeeeeeeee ..." One of the slave girls brought a brimming mug of water while the other pounded her fists on his back with unwarranted enthusiasm. The slave with the palm frond calmly maintained his rhythm.
"Well," Xena said demurely, rising, "it's been a simply lovely evening, Ahmed. But I can see you have other things on your mind now."
" ... You ... wheeee-haa ... c-an't ..."
"We'll finish our bargaining in the morning. Come along, girl," she added to Gabrielle.
"Yes, mistress," the bard happily replied.
Exiting the tent, they almost ran head-on into Ahmed's personal guards. Apparently alerted to their master's distress, they rushed past the women without a second glance. Right on the guards' heels came a scowling Odius Maximus. And --- as luck would have it --- he was dragging a fiercely struggling Ilyena behind him.
"Let go of me, you brute!" the girl screeched. She pulled, yanked, kicked him and bit him, but all to no avail. He was easily four times her size and strength. "Let me GO!"
He halted only when Xena stepped into his path.
She smiled. "Hello, Odius. I think we've been here before."
"Outta my way. I got business with the master." He started around her. Again, she blocked him.
"You have business with me first," she answered, her voice deceptively mild. She nodded toward the girl. "You can get your hands off her any time now, Odius."
Odius bristled. "Odius Maximus to you, wench. And I won't let her go till I've shown her to the master. I caught her spying on the slaves."
"Spying on the slaves?" Xena repeated, openly amused. "I didn't realize slaves watching slaves had become a capital offense."
That was when Gabrielle heard someone call her name --- very softly, hardly more than a furtive hiss, but it was enough to draw her attention away from Xena's conversation with the big lout holding Ilyena captive. She turned, squinting into the darkness, and swept her gaze across the camp's perimeter.
Kanabis stood at the very fringe of the forest, half in shadow, half in light, where the glow of the camp's central bonfire barely reached. He was waving his arms, trying to pantomime something to her.
"What?" Gabrielle mouthed the word, then added an exaggerated shrug and a frown to emphasize her confusion.
Kanabis shrugged helplessly, waved his arms indecipherably, then gave up and mouthed back, "No roots." Followed by another big shrug.
"No roots?" Gabrielle repeated thoughtfully, if only to herself. Then, as the full import of the message finally hit, her knees felt quite suddenly weak. Just to be sure, she mouthed back, "NO ROOTS?"
Kanabis gave a huge theatrical nod, pointed to where Ilyena struggled with Odius, and then shrugged again, this time apologetically.
"Ohhhhh boy," Gabrielle breathed. By that time, Odius was already on the ground, a cross-eyed quivering mass of misused manhood, clutching at his twice-abused body parts. A small group of other guards had gathered to watch. Probably to cheer him on, too, although it had never come even close to that.
Before anyone could warn her against it, Ilyena cried, "I'm sorry, Xena. I never thought ..."
"It's alright," Xena said, quickly hushing the youngster.
"Xena," Gabrielle interrupted soto voce. Then, for the benefit of those watching, she continued more loudly, "Ummm, I mean ... Great Warrior Mistress, we must go immediately to our own camp and ... and punish this impudent little slave girl."
"What?" Xena asked her.
Gabrielle leaned close and whispered from the corner of her mouth, "She didn't get the roots, so there's no sleeping potion." She nodded in Kanabis' general direction.
Xena glanced that way and saw the former Poteideian miming a frenzied apology. Clarity of their situation came into her eyes.
"I see," she murmured calmly.
"Guards!" Ahmed ben Tushaak staggered from the tent, still red-faced and coughing, and pointed a trembling finger at the warrior. "Take her!" Wheeeeeeze. "Take them all!"
Gabrielle made a quick head count. All nine guards were here --- well, eight really, since Odius wasn't likely to be joining in the fray anytime soon. So then ... eight to one. The way Gabrielle figured it, the odds were terribly uneven. In Xena's favor.
From the periphery of her vision, Gabrielle saw Xena's sword flash up and out in the same instant that she was thrusting Ilyena behind her. But there was no real safety there, either, not with those two dark-eyed assassins on either side of the Arab. Although they made no move to join in the skirmish, their scimitars were already out and gleaming brightly in the firelight.
Xena shot Gabrielle a quick glance and shouted, "Gabrielle! You and Kanabis --- get Ilyena away from here! Now!" And the Warrior Princess lunged forward into the group of guards, sword flashing, screaming her warcry. The guards fell back and away, clearing an easy path of escape for the other two.
"Come on," Gabrielle said, grabbing Ilyena's hand. She started running, dragging the girl behind her.
Kanabis met them near the bonfire. He carried a pack under one arm, a pack so huge he had to lean heavily to one side to compensate for its tremendous weight.
"Whoa," he said, "this is definitely not kosher. What're we supposed to do now?"
"First we get Ilyena to safety," Gabrielle panted, "and then ..."
"Not without my brother!" the girl snapped angrily. "I won't go anywhere without Tindel!"
"Xena said ..."
"I don't care what she said!" the girl cried fiercely. "You can't make me leave him here!" Ilyena began struggling wildly against Gabrielle's grip. One of the motley guards, apparently spotting what seemed an easier target than the lone Warrior Princess, lumbered their way with a garbled warcry issuing from his own lips.
"Just what we needed," Gabrielle grimaced sourly. She let go the girl's wrist, causing Ilyena to fall backwards against Kanabis; and Kanabis, in turn, lost not only his balance, but his grasp on the pack. While both Ilyena and Kanabis landed solidly on their respective backsides, the pack sailed upward, made a graceful arc in midair, then dropped squarely in the center of the bonfire.
"My stash!" Kanabis screamed piteously. "Noooooooo ...!" He rose to his knees, hands clasped before him, wailing the enormity of his loss to the four winds.
Gabrielle snatched up a long staff-sized branch from the edge of the bonfire and whirled it so its flaming point met the lumbering guard head on. He skidded to a halt, out of breath from the unaccustomed exertion, and eyed the flaming tip suspiciously.
"What're ya gonna do with that?" he queried stupidly.
"This." Gabrielle struck the branch hard against the side of the brute's head. Screaming incoherently, he dropped his sword and ran away, all the while beating frantically at his flaming hair.
Gabrielle whirled back. "Ilyena? Ilyena?" But the girl was already racing pell-mell toward the captive slaves. "Oh, great," the bard muttered. Rushing back to Kanabis, she dropped to her knees beside him and said, "Kanabis?" She shook him. "Kanabis, I need your help."
"Ohhhhh, my stash," he crooned unhappily. "Best stuff I've grown in years and ... and now it's all up in smoke!"
"I know, but it's gone now, OK? There's nothing we can do about it. Now you've got to help me." She glanced back at Xena. The eight remaining ... no, the warrior had already whittled them down to five ... the five remaining guards had backed off, but only so the two Arab swordsmen could take their place in the battle. They circled the solitary Warrior Princess with cold-blooded proficiency, like wolves ruthlessly wearing down their prey. Their weapons --- evilly curved middle-eastern scimitars --- glowed an eerie blue in the flickering firelight. Gabrielle shook Kanabis hard enough to rattle his teeth. "Come on! Snap out of it! We've got to help Xena!"
One of the Arabs lunged. Xena met his charge head-on. Metal crashed against metal, sword sparked against sword. As she grappled with the first, the second Arab leapt behind her. He swung his blade in a killing blow that would've taken her head had she not ducked at the last instant. She vaulted to the side, somersaulted, and came up screaming her battlecry.
"Kanabis, COME ON!" Gabrielle grabbed his arm and hauled him roughly to his feet.
"Oh, man," Kanabis groaned morosely.
"Listen," Gabrielle went on, not giving him any more opportunity for self-pity. "I'm going to stampede their horses. You get the keys off one of the men Xena's already ... um, off one of the dead guards. Then you go free the slaves. Got it?"
"Yeah, I guess ..."
"OK then." When he didn't jump immediately into action, Gabrielle cuffed him, hard, on the arm and shouted, "Well ... DO IT!"
"OK, I'm going already! Don't get your bloomers in a wad!
As they separated, each heading in opposite directions, they didn't hear the crackling and popping coming from deep within the bonfire, nor did they notice the suddenly sweet- smelling smoke pouring into the air above. The perfumed cloud rose languidly above the flames of its birth --- serenely contemplating the beauty of the night, and the stars above, and then slowly ... lazily ... allowing itself to gently billow toward the group of combatants. It curled salaciously around each man present, and each woman, lasciviously caressing their faces, playfully teasing their nostrils with its cloying perfume. The cloud sighed dreamily, loving them all, wanting nothing more in all the world than to make each and every one of its wonderful new friends ... h a p p y ...
One of the five remaining guards sneezed, wiped his nose on his sleeve, scratched his tickling nostrils and muttered, "Damn pollen."
"Really," his compatriot agreed fervently, rubbing at his stinging eyes.
Odius Maximus shuddered, sniffed the breeze and declared to no one in particular, "You know, I could really use a gyro right now." He smiled beatifically at the idea and added, "One loaded solid with feta cheese."
Xena lunged and feinted, lunged again. Avoiding her blade, the first Arab misstepped, stumbling slightly on the uneven ground. It was the only opening Xena needed --- her sword found his shoulder, piercing deep into the tender flesh. As he fell away, grasping at his shoulder in sudden agony, he dropped his own sword. By purest chance, the flying blade managed to score a shallow cut across the thigh of one of the guards standing too near. The man froze in place, looked down at the welling red stain on his britches, looked up ... and began giggling uncontrollably.
Xena frowned, wondering what in Zeus' name was wrong with the fool. But there was no time for such ponderings as the second Arab was suddenly behind her. She whirled, tucked and rolled to the side, and came up facing her remaining opponent.
The caravan's collected mounts and pack animals --- including one largely befuddled camel --- thundered through the center of the encampment, stampeding off into the night.
"Gee," a big, hulking behemoth of a man said, blinking in foggy confusion, "my horse is ... where's my pretty horse going? Aphrodite? Aphrodite honey! Don't leave! Ain't I always been good to you? Ain't these last two years meant nothing to you? Honey, please, I ... Aphroditeeeeeeee!" He set off after the animals at an unsteady trot.
Kanabis tugged at another guard's sleeve.
"Hey, man," he asked congenially. "How 'bout laying some keys on me? The slaves, you know, like need some ... ummm, exercise. Or something."
"Oh, sure," the guard grinned amicably, pulling out a huge keyring with only one key dangling from it. "Hey, knock yourself out, Kanabis."
"Thanks. Later, dude." Kanabis sauntered jauntily away, whistling aimlessly and twirling the keyring around one finger.
Xena and her remaining opponent slowly circled one another, eyes on eyes, watching --- waiting --- ready for any slip, any lapse in attention that might leave an opening and thereby end their battle once and for all.
Ahmed ben Tushaak blinked, rubbed his belly, smacked his lips, and said, "By Allah, do you think any of that hummus is left? I've got a sudden craving for a falafel." He shambled back inside the tent. Mumbling their heartfelt approval, the four remaining scruffy guards followed him cheerfully within.
The eyes of Xena's opponent flicked briefly after them, then shot back to the warrior woman.
Xena grinned wickedly, "Your owner's left you out here to die alone. How's that for loyalty?"
"He's not my owner," the man growled. "I am a free man."
"Then why don't you start acting like it?" she countered, still circling. "Or do you like being Ahmed's stooly?"
"Ignorant female! I am no man's ... what did you call me?"
Xena's sword twirled lazily between them as she answered, "A stooly. A vassal. A serf. All words for a man too blind to see when he's been enslaved."
"I am no man's slave, impudent wench! The master pays me well for my services."
Xena's grin faded. She lowered her blade, sword tip to ground, and relaxed her stance, deliberately leaving herself open to attack. She asked softly, "Then why do you call him 'master?'"
The Arab, too straightened, lowering his scimitar. He frowned thoughtfully as a delicate tendril of smoke curled around his nostrils. "Well, because he ... I mean, I've just always ..."
"And you always will," Xena said gently, "unless you decide to end it."
The man considered her words as the night-borne perfume playfully toyed and teased him. Finally he gave a slow, reluctant nod. "I don't know why I never saw it that way before. You speak rather wisely ... for a woman, I mean." He looked up, met her gaze. And nodded again.
It was enough.
Gabrielle leapt from the shadows to Xena's side, her amazon fighting staff held at the ready. "I'm here, Xena!" she exclaimed bravely. She looked one way, then the other, but found the area suddenly free from threat. A few dead guards, sure, and a couple of wounded ones, but ... the staff was lowered disconsolately. "I'm too late, aren't I?"
"Yep," Xena answered mildly.
Gabrielle sighed, straightening. She kicked at the dirt with one booted foot and said unhappily, "A day late and a dinar short. It's the story of my life." To the Arab swordsman, she explained, "I miss out on all the really good stuff."
"Not all the good stuff," Xena smiled, pointing. "Look there."
Gabrielle glanced in the direction indicated ...
.. and saw Kanabis leading a ragtag collection of freshly liberated slaves into the camp. Ilyena as with them, grinning hugely and holding tight to her brother's small hand.
"You're right, Xena," the bard sighed as moisture crept unbidden to her eyes, "maybe I don't miss all the good stuff." Then her eyes widened in sudden alarm. "Oh, Xena! Oh ... we have to stop them!"
"Stop them?" the Warrior Princess queried. "Why?"
Gabrielle explained urgently, "It's the smoke. Kanabis' pack fell in the bonfire and made this ... this funny smoke. Kanabis says that's why everyone's started acting so strangely. Don't you smell it, Xena?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Gabrielle," Xena returned with a somewhat patronizing smile for her excitable young companion. She explained reasonably, "Smoke can't possibly make you act any differently than you normally would. Gods, but you've got an imagination." Then, her brows knitting slightly, she added, "Say ... Gabrielle, when I was fighting just a minute ago, didn't I hear someone mention something about having a falafel?"
"Well, I don't kn ..."
Xena shook her head slightly. "Funny. I've never known fighting to work up such an appetite before. Come on, I'm famished." And she started into the tent. Gabrielle frowned, "Xena? Are you sure you're ...
The warrior grinned playfully, "Gabrielle, right now I'm so hungry I could eat Argo. Are you coming?"
"Ummm ... sure. I'm ... right ... behind you, Xena."
"Then let's GO."
* After that, it was all pretty much over. Ilyena and her brother, Tindel, along with the people of their village and the other villages raided, wanted nothing more than to return to their homes. They were tired and sore, and heartsick from their enslavement. It was time for them to go back, time for them to rebuild their homes and remake their lives --- or try to. It was time to mourn not only for their dead, but also for their own lost innocence. I'm afraid they'll never feel completely safe again. Xena says it's the price of vigilance, but ... I can't help but feel sad for them.
* As for Ahmed ben Tushaak, he and all his guards will soon be getting a taste of their own medicine. The servants, including the two Arab guards, will be going on to the slave markets of Korash as planned, but the slaves being auctioned to the highest bidders won't be the ones originally for sale. Xena thinks Odius Maximus will bring the highest price, there being a great demand for Spartans in the foreign arenas nowadays, and poor Ahmed the lowest. He's too soft, Xena says, and too quick to complain. And as for my old friend from Poteideia ... *
"I don't know," Kanabis said, doubtfully eyeing the beast beside him. "I mean, I know it's better looking than Odius is, but ..." He shrugged. "I'm just afraid my sis won't go for it."
"Well," Gabrielle smiled brightly, "if she really feels that strongly about it, she can always bring it up to Korash and trade it for him. I mean, a genuine Arabic horse has to be worth at least as much as a wannabe Spartan. Right?"
As if in answer, the beast bellowed indignantly.
The bard frowned, "Why is it mooing like that?"
"I don't know," Kanabis returned, scratching absently through his bushy scalp. "I think maybe it has fleas."
Gabrielle eyed her old friend critically. "I think maybe it's not the only one."
"Huh?"
"Nothing." Gabrielle smiled, extending her hand. "Well, I guess this is good-bye then?"
"Yeah." Kanabis grinned through his beard as they shook hands farewell. "But it's been great seeing you again, Gabrielle. You know, you and Xena are welcome at my place anytime."
"Thanks."
"Oh, hey, and in the meantime ... you know, just to tide you over till you can make it up there ..."
"He gave you what?" Xena asked absently.
The day was beautiful, bright with sunshine and bird song. She and Gabrielle walked side-by-side along the forest trail with Argo trailing placidly behind them.
"Some of that stuff," Gabrielle replied. "You know, the happy smoke."
Xena smiled, her brows rising in amusement. "Now why would we want any of that?" she asked. Then, as a worrisome thought sprang unbidden to mind, she halted suddenly, nearly causing the half-dozing mare to bump into her. Turning to Gabrielle, she queried, "You're not actually planning on using any of that stuff, are you? On purpose, I mean?"
"Well, no. At least, not really," the little bard was quick to reply. "But I just thought ... I mean, I
just ... um ..."
"Go on," Xena prompted curiously.
Amazingly, Gabrielle seemed at a momentary loss for words. A real first, Xena decided.
"Well, I ... I actually thought I might use just a tiny little pinch," Gabrielle went on, squeezing thumb and forefinger together for emphasis. Then she shrugged uneasily, apparently deciding to just plunge on ahead. In a rush, she blurted, "You know, next time you decide I need to learn how to groom Argo. I thought maybe if I just let her nibble a little bit of the leaves beforehand, it might ..."
"No," Xena stated firmly.
"But ..."
"NO," Xena repeated.
Argo whickered her unconditional agreement.
Xena and Argo started walking again. Gabrielle sighed, shrugged, then hurried to catch up.
"You know," Gabrielle began enthusiastically, and the familiar tone of her voice told Xena she was beginning one of her hours-long bardic monologues. "Maybe it wouldn't be practical for anything as mundane as grooming Argo. But ... but just suppose we were walking along minding our own business ... like we are right now ... and up pops a hydra! Well, you know you couldn't use your sword, because its heads grow back double. But if we were to use some of this happy smoke on
it ..."
Xena's smile broadened contentedly as she listened to her friend's story. Behind her, also in response to Gabrielle's story, Argo sighed and went back to sleep.
It promised to be a great day ...
THE END