Half A Life
by Maya Tawipart three
"Haven't I done enough today?
Haven't I done enough this time?"
-Sleater-Kinney
Iolaus stretched and yawned, slowly drifting awake. He cracked one eye open; a stream of sunlight hit him directly in the face, and he groaned and rolled over, burying himself in his bedroll as best he could.
A moment later he sat up, blinking and brushing his long hair out of his face.
His unwilling housemate-- Autolycus, the self-declared King of Thieves-- was inspecting the window, uttering a soft, monotonous stream of curses.
"Are you still at that?" Iolaus demanded.
Autolycus sighed, slammed his fists against the invisible barrier keeping them from the outside, and rested his forehead between his hands. Then he straightened and turned to face Iolaus.
"I have to do something," he said. "You know, maybe you can just sit around here all day masturbating, but I'm gonna find a way out of here."
Iolaus rolled his eyes. "Ha ha, very funny," he said through clenched teeth. "Like I've never heard that one before. Like that joke-- 'What's the difference between meditating and masturbating? One of 'em you sit around holding your dick, and the other one you actually get off.' That kind of thing. It is meditating."
Autolycus was staring at him. "That," he said, "is the stupidest joke I've heard in my entire life. And believe me, that's saying quite a lot. Besides--" He grinned. "That's not what I meant."
Iolaus groaned again and flopped back down on the bedroll, covering his face with his arm. "I can't believe I'm stuck here with you," he complained. "Of all the people in the known world, why you? What did I ever do to the gods?"
"Aw, quit yer whining." Autolycus turned back to the window. "You'll come around. I'm a very likable person."
"Yeah, right." Iolaus scowled into the crook of his elbow. "What'd be the point? I mean, if you're just gonna go get yourself killed as soon as we get out, why sould I even bother trying to like you? Which, by the way, is a chore in itself. Likable my ass."
He felt Autolycus's gaze on him and kept his arm over his own eyes, pointedly ignoring the stare. So the exalted King of Thieves couldn't figure out why Iolaus cared whether he lived or died. Well, he was in good company-- neither could Iolaus.
It was infuriating, really. All throughout the previous evening Iolaus had been gearing up to hate his fellow thief with as fiery a passion as he could muster, and he was doing a good job of it, too; Autolycus was the kind of self-important, cocksure guy that people like Iolaus tended to hate on general principle, except that Autolycus went way beyond principle and made it personal. And then the bastard had to go and launch a catapult like the one he'd let fly the night before, and all of a sudden Iolaus found himself thinking of him as an actual human being.
Granted, Iolaus had been probing for some sort of unguarded reaction. He just hadn't been expecting what he'd gotten.
Likable... maybe it wasn't such a far-fetched concept after all.
The feeling of intense eyes on him faded, and he uncovered his face and sat up once more. Autolycus had turned back to the window, and Iolaus found himself staring at the back of his head. Autolycus's dark hair was sticking out at all angles, and his green tunic was almost fatally wrinkled, but there was still something....
He shook his head. Get a grip, Iolaus, he ordered himself. He may not be bad to look at, but he's arrogant, majorly egotistical, and as irritating as Sisyphus's damned rock. Hardly your type.
Then there was the little voice inside him that piped up, Get a grip? Love to.
"There's gotta be an opening somewhere," Autolycus was saying. "We're not suffocating, so air is getting in and out--"
"That's what's bothering you?" Iolaus scooped up a handful of dirt and tossed it out the window. It sailed through unimpeded, scattering over the ground outside.
Off Autolycus's narrow-eyed, irritated look, he explained, "Anyhing that's not alive can make it through the barrier. Those of us with heartbeats aren't quite so lucky."
Autolycus closed his eyes, looking pained, then faced the window and very deliberately smacked his forehead against the barrier. Then he said, "Ow."
"Well, imagine that. You're not brain-dead enough after all," Iolaus said. "Look, I understand wanting to be able to get out, but could you try and wrap your mind around the concept? We're safe here. Prone to die from boredom, maybe, but safe from the Conqueror at least. Even if you could get out, frankly you look like a dead pharaoh at the moment, what with all the bandages, and from the way you're moving I'd say you're just as mobile. Would you please just relax?" Then he scowled. "You've already given me a headache, and I think it's getting worse. I mean, I know you think I'm incompetent or something-- funny thing, by the way, when you're the injured one here-- but I have been over this place a million times, and trust me when I say there is no way out."
There was a moment of silence. Iolaus watched from under lowered eyelids as Autolycus slid slowly down the wall to a sitting position, resting his chin on his knees. "Yes," he said finally, with a sigh. "Well. There you go. That's it, then, isn't it."
"Pretty much, yeah."
"And people wonder why I don't worship Hermes like all the other good little thieves. I'm telling you, it's shit like this, that's why. He's a slippery bastard-- and don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with that-- but what's the point if you can't even rely on him? All the gods-- they just screw around with your life, just for fun. The only one you can ever really trust is yourself, that's what I say. You start relying on the gods or anyone else and that's when the trouble starts." Throughout his entire speech Autolycus didn't move, just kept staring blankly at some spot in the dirt just beyond his boots.
Iolaus opened his mouth to say something, then hesitated and bit his lip, changing his mind. "Hey, uh, listen," he offered instead, "I, uh, kinda wanted to say... well, sorry for being such an asshole last night. I'm not usually like that." After all, it wouldn't hurt to be civil.
"Sure," Autolycus said, "well, I should hope not. You know, I'd watch that if I were you."
Or maybe it would hurt after all.
"Now that's more like it," a new voice boomed. "For a minute there I thought I was gonna hafta toss 'em."
The two thieves immediately leaped to their feet; Iolaus saw Autolycus stumble and fall heavily to his knees. They both turned to gape at a spot in the middle of the room.
A middle-aged, red-faced, slightly rounded man stood there, watching them with an expression of mingled amusement and disdain. As they stared, he raised his eyebrows and smirked. "Hi there."
Autolycus rose again, much more carefully this time. When he spoke, his words came out as little more than a squeak. "Do I... know you?"
"Well, ya should," the man said. "This is my house you're standin' in."
Abruptly, Iolaus sat down again.
The newcomer rolled his eyes. "Are you guys trying to make me seasick?"
Autolycus's voice rose impossibly higher. "You're... um... you're Hermes?"
The maybe-god furrowed his brow and hastily patted his face, as though making sure he was still the same person he'd been when he'd woken up that morning, assuming gods woke up from anything. Assuming he was a god. Then, apparently satisfied, he spread his hands. "Seems so."
Iolaus shook his head, then looked again. The scene still hadn't changed.
Great, he thought, the god thinks he's a comedian.
Of course, he'd never actually met Hermes in person or anything, but he'd seen the statues. And this middle-aged, red-faced, rounded man looked nothing like the images of the long-haired naked teenager on display outside Tiro's temple. Iolaus certainly wouldn't want to see this guy sans toga. Still, the way he'd just materialized out of thin air like that was definitely very godlike... and the house was, supposedly, off limits to other gods....
He glanced over at Autolycus again. Judging from his deadly white pallor, the King of Thieves was recalling, in painful detail, just what he'd been saying a minute ago. His lips moved silently-- counting down his last precious moments before being blasted into oblivion, perhaps. To Iolaus's mild surprise, the prospect wasn't nearly as attractive as he'd thought it would be.
Sensing the confusion, Hermes said, "It's the look, isn't it. You don't approve." He snapped his fingers, and suddenly there was the naked teenager standing in front of them. Inevitably, Iolaus felt his eyes drop to about waist-height, and he vaguely noticed that a wide-eyed Autolycus was doing the same thing. One thing was for sure-- the statues didn't exaggerate.
"This better?" Another snap, and now Hermes was a red-haired man in his mid-twenties, dressed in shepherd's clothes. "Or this?" Snap-- a boy of six or so, wearing a child's rags. "How 'bout this?" He snapped his fingers one last time, morphing back into his original form. "I'm diggin' this look right now. Lets me blend in with the crowd, if you get my meaning."
Hermes paused, looking at the two thieves with mild vexation. "Man, you guys are really lousy conversationalists, you know that?"
Iolaus stood for a second time, finding his voice. He had to prod it a bit to get it going, but eventually he managed to say, "Um. If you could just clear something up for us... do you, or do you not, intend to blow my friend here into messy little bits?"
He saw Autolycus's eyes narrow at the word "friend" and bit his lip to keep from swearing aloud. That was definitely not what he'd meant.
Hermes gazed at the dark-haired thief. Under his penetrating stare, Autolycus started to squirm. "I'm not worth it," he said plaintively. "Really I'm not. I'm--"
"Not anybody important?" Iolaus suggested, when Autolycus fumbled for words. Presumably his pride wouldn't let him finish the sentence.
Autolycus glared at him. "That is not what I was going say, Blondie. If you'd just--"
Hermes snickered, and they both froze, suddenly remembering their circumstances. "Aw, you guys are a trip and a half, lemme tell you," the god said with a smirk. Iolaus wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or not, but seeing as Hermes didn't seem to be about to fry anyone, he decided to take it as a positive sign. "I was considering it, to tell the truth, but it just so happens I need you both. Consider yourself lucky, kid," he added to Autolycus.
The King of Thieves smiled weakly. "You got it." Then his eyes narrowed. "No, but wait a minute, what do you need us for exactly?"
Hermes scowled. "You know, most people would be thrilled at the chance--"
"I'm just asking--"
"Ignore him, he's disturbed," Iolaus said quickly.
Autolycus glared at him. "Yeah, and you're the one disturbing me, buddy."
"Enough! Hades in Tartarus, this gets old quick." The god glowered at the two thieves. They shut up.
"Do I have your total attention here? Good." Hermes rubbed his hands together. "Now I'm gonna let the two of you out of here, on one very important condition."
"Uh, excuse me," Autolycus interrupted, "does this by any chance involve permanent scarring of any kind? 'Cause I gotta warn you, me and pain, we don't get along very well."
Iolaus rolled his eyes.
Hermes' eyes narrowed. "It will if you don't shut up and listen." He started to pace. "Now-- and you'll probably be surprised to hear this, although you really shouldn't-- one of my high priests has been taken by this Conqueror of yours. Yeah, that's right," he added, as Autolycus's face took on an expression of surprise and guilt, the latter looking uncomfortable on his normally confident face. In fact, the King of Thieves looked almost physically ill. Iolaus felt the exact same way.
"Didn't think of that, did we?" the god continued. "Now normally I'd say you mortals are a dinar a dozen and leave it at that, but it just so happens I don't have that many high priests and I'd like to keep the ones I do have. And besides, I received a very odd prayer last night from a very stubborn girl who didn't seem to like me that much...." He trailed off.
Autolycus blanched. "Agamede knows? How does Agamede know?"
"Is that her name? I kind of liked her."
"Hang on," Iolaus said. "Who's Agamede?"
"Tiro's daughter," Autolycus said absently, not taking his eyes off the god. "A couple years ago she left home, they had a fight over-- well, that's not important right now. She's here, isn't she?" he demanded. "When did she get here?"
"Do I look like a Day-Timer to you?" Hermes retorted. At the mortals' blank looks, he heaved a huge sigh. "Look, I don't have time for this right now, so we'll just get right down to it if that's okay with you two. The fact is, pal, you and Goldilocks here are gonna do something for me." All of a sudden he was grinning a not-so-nice grin. Iolaus's stomach started to sink towards his toes.
"Our Aggie here wants me to look after her daddy. Now it's funny how that works out, because this Xena's pretty much under Ares's domain, meaning I can't directly interfere. So what's gonna happen is that you two are gonna rescue him. Do--"
"Whoa, whoa, hold the chariot," Autolycus interrupted, sounding just a bit hysterical. Iolaus, for his part, was too bewildered to actually form a coherent thought. "Rescue him? First of all, you're outta your fucking mind, and second of all, the two of us? I don't think so. I don't play well with others." Then he paused, and added, "Er... your godliness."
Iolaus covered his face with his hands. "You are such an idiot," he whispered, too softly for Autolycus to hear.
"That's not what I heard," Hermes was saying, surprisingly not in the process of turning the King of Thieves into the Mother of All Messy Smears.
"You know what I mean, you-- uh-- your greatness. I don't--"
"Name's Hermes," the god said. "But I kinda like that. Keep going."
Autolycus scowled and pressed on doggedly. "I don't do partners."
Hermes turned and inspected Iolaus from head to toe. "I don't see why not," he said, with a leer that gave the words an entirely new meaning. Iolaus felt his eyes widen, and he self-consciously adjusted his open vest, shifting his weight from one leg to another. Autolycus turned red.
To give him credit, he was certainly the most persistent suicidal man Iolaus had ever met. He coughed once and said, "I didn't mean--"
"I know what you damned well meant, you moron." Hermes shook his head. "You mortals are so incredibly dim.... Look, I don't care whether or not you usually have to pull jobs in a pink tutu to get 'em right, you're doing it my way this time. And that means you work together."
"But--"
"Nope. Now shut up, I'm not done. You two are going to do whatever it takes to get this guy freed and unharmed, and I do mean whatever it takes. If that means you have to trade yourselves for him, I wouldn't really give a flying fuck."
Autolycus crossed his arms and scowled. "'All those who come to Hermes for asylum are blessed,'" he mimicked in a sing-song voice.
Iolaus shook his head and covered his face again. "I think I'm just gonna give up now," he mumbled.
"I guess I'm just a slippery bastard," Hermes said. "What can I say?"
"'Just kidding' would definitely be a favorite right now."
"Sorry," the god said, not sounding sorry at all. "However you may feel about Tiro at the moment, the fact is he was trying to save your pathetic mortal lives. I'm just askin' you goofs to return the favor."
"But look, this is the Conqueror we're talking about here," Autolycus argued, as Iolaus watched through his spread fingers with rather detached interest. "She's not just going to let him slip through her fingers, and I don't particularly like the idea of getting caught again--"
"Am I caring here? No? Didn't think so." Hermes leaned over and tapped Autolycus none-too-lightly on the head. Autolycus winced. "You were gonna go back and steal from her anyway, right? You'll just steal a person instead. Same boost to your rep."
"You ever tried spending a person? Besides, she'll be expecting this. She wouldn't have expected--" Autolycus hesitated. "Um, I don't think, anyway. She'll have guards, archers--"
"How many ways can I say I don't care?" Hermes folded his arms, annoyed. "Why am I still here arguing? You know, I so miss the old days, you just tell a mortal what to do and they hop to it, none of this incessant bitching--"
"Wait, wait, wait," Autolycus said hurriedly, as the god started to snap his fingers. "Look, I'm hurt, all right?" He limped a little to demonstrate. "I can't be climbing up walls and rescuing people, even if I ever did the hero thing, which I don't--"
"So you want someone to die because of what you did, is that it?" Hermes looked at him hard. Autolycus turned his head away, hiding his expression. Iolaus watched with interest.
"Him too," Autolycus said finally, pointing to the blond thief, who had leaned back against the wall and folded his arms. "Not just me."
"Hey," Iolaus said, as Hermes glanced in his direction. "Leave me out of this."
Autolycus was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "All right. You've got a point. You are the god here, after all."
Hermes preened slightly. "And don't you forget it, Sunshine."
"Oh, I won't. I won't. The thing is, you see, I really am hurt. And I won't be much use to Tiro if I can barely get around, now will I?"
The god looked exasperated. "Man," he said, shaking his head in disbelief, "you guys are really fragile, aren't you? Any little thing that comes along can do you in. I mean, look at you-- crippled by a bunch of rocks, for Zeus's sake. How do you guys even live as long as you do?"
Autolycus may have intended to smile, but the expression on his face looked more like a pained grimace. "I don't know, but I'd certainly like to keep it that way."
Iolaus snorted softly. "Couldn't prove it by me," he said under his breath.
Hermes was looking Autolycus over consideringly. Then he stepped back, pointed at the King of Thieves with his right hand, and snapped his fingers.
Autolycus looked apprehensive; then that apprehensiveness quickly gave way to panic, as he was enveloped in a bright glow that seemed to start from deep inside him and spread its way out. As Iolaus watched in fascination, the faint bruises dusting his face faded from sight, and the end of the bandage poking out of his shirt disappeared. The glow faded after a few seconds, and Autolycus rocked back warily on his heels, looking rather torn about this new development.
"All healed?" Hermes asked unnecessarily. "Good. One last bit of information, then, and I'll be on my merry way. What was it now... oh, yes-- if you fail, or if the priest comes to serious harm, then I'm kicking you two straight into the arms of the Conqueror. Seems fair, don't you think?"
Then he grinned, sharklike. "After all, I already spent the girl's money. I might as well hold up my end of the bargain."
"Spent it on what, exactly?" Autolycus inquired. He looked even paler than before.
Hermes shrugged. "Oh," he said, "you find stuff. You're free to go, by the way."
He snapped his fingers, and he was gone.
"So that's a god," Autolycus said after a bit. "They're not so bad."
Iolaus scowled at him. He could feel a major headache coming on.
"What," he said, in carefully measured tones, "did you think you were doing?"
Autolycus waved his hand. "Aw, he wouldn't've killed me. Like the guy said-- he needs the both of us."
"What are you up to now?" Iolaus asked, suspicious.
Autolycus didn't look at him; his eyes were fixed on the closed door, and the promised freedom that lay beyond. He sounded offended. "Who says I'm up to anything? We're free. We can leave. I'm just enjoying the moment."
Then he sidled to the front door, threw it open, and, in one quick movement, hopped over the threshold.
"Free!" he repeated, in case Iolaus hadn't gotten it the first time.
Iolaus followed more slowly, pondering the unfairness of it all. His first taste of freedom in a week and he couldn't enjoy it.
"Much as I hate to burst your bubble," he said, once outside, "we're not exactly free yet." He and Autolycus started back along the path through the trees.
Autolycus slung an arm over his shoulder; Iolaus shrugged it off irritably. "Iolaus, my small acquaintance-- oof!"
A moment later he was on his back on the groud, staring up at an annoyed thief. "Enough with the short jokes," Iolaus said through clenched teeth.
Autolycus smirked. "Ah. Comments about size are not appreciated?"
Iolaus glowered down at him, then leaned over and grabbed his hand, hauling him to his feet. "Now that's better," Autolycus said, brushing himself off. "As I was saying, if there's one thing I've learned it's not to worry about the future. That kind of thing generally takes care of itself. We're here now, we're free, and hey, do you think we could make it to Chin before Mister Short Bald and Grumpy notices?"
Caught off-guard, Iolaus stopped in mid-stride and gaped at him. "You can't be serious."
"You're right, you're right. How about Siberia?"
Iolaus just continued to stare. Autolycus sighed. "Look, I like Tiro, but going after him would be suicide, plain and simple. And I like my head right where it is, thanks. Now listen, the gods don't have as much power the father they get from Greece, so if we move our asses--"
The fist smashing into his face obviously took him by surprise; he stumbled back and tripped, landing on his ass for the second time in under five minutes, his face contorted in an almost comical look of shock.
Iolaus was just as bewildered at his own reaction. He stared at his whitened knuckles, then down at Autolycus, sprawled on the ground. What was wrong with him? He had spent the past ten years achieving control over his temper, and it had taken Autolycus all of ten seconds to break him. Sure, the guy was an asshole, but Iolaus liked the think that when dealing with assholes he usually didn't lead with his fists.
Silence reigned. It was a perfectly idyllic morning-- birds chirping, sun shining, fresh breeze-- and Iolaus was already feeling sick.
Wordlessly he turned and walked away.
Autolycus leaned against a tree and crossed his arms, scowling.
In front of him was a body of water, to small to even be called a pond. It was a puddle. But the locals took pride in it, called it the Lake of Hephaestus, claimed it had been formed when Hephaestus had made a lunge at Athena and the Athena had pushed him away, causing his seed to fall to earth. Or so he'd heard on his way through town. It didn't seem a very attractive story to Autolycus, but that was legends for you.
Mid-morning sunlight gleamed on the water, turning the "lake" a bright golden color; it streamed through the surrounding trees to form crazy shadows on the dew-damp earth and shone off the blond hair of the small, muscled figure that crouched on the bank, absently tossing pebbles into the pond.
Autolycus just watched for a while, until an unpleasant throbbing in his cheekbone reminded him of what had happened. He resisted the urge to reach up and prod the sore spot. The little bastard just had to go for the face.
He shifted position. Iolaus had to know he was there, but he wasn't letting on if he did.
By the time Autolycus had gotten back to his feet, Iolaus had disappeared from sight. The path wasn't too hard to follow, though, even for a habitual city dweller such as himself, and Autolycus had eventually found the thief here, by the Lake of Hephaestus. He wasn't sure what he intended to say, but he wasn't the type to run away from personal conflicts. Well, sometimes. On even-numbered days, anyway.
Truth told, he wasn't entirely sure what he was doing there, but sometimes it was a good idea to follow your gut instinct.
And sometimes that was the kind of thing that put your neck in a noose.
Eventually he sighed, pushed away from the tree, ambled over to the edge of the water, and settled down next to Iolaus, keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead.
"So," he said, "you wanna tell me why you just used my face for a punching bag?"
Iolaus picked up a good-sized rock and tossed it as hard as he could; it cleared the far side of the pond and bounced off a tree. "You know, for a guy who says he's only looking after his own neck, you do seem to be trying awfully hard to get yourself killed."
"I don't--"
"First you're planning on going back to steal from the Conqueror again, just to prove you can. Then when you're ordered to do just that, you decide it'd be much more fun to forget the whole thing and incidentally defy a fairly major god in the process. Excuse me if I just don't see the logic."
"I explained all that," Autolycus said, with some annoyance. "I have to defend my title from your evil identical twin from a parallel universe, and the Conqueror wouldn't be expecting me to try again. But if she has Tiro, you can bet he'll be under heavy guard, most likely--"
"So you wanna tell me what you're still doing here?"
Autolycus broke off in mid-rant, openmouthed. "That is actually a very good question," he admitted. "I considered just taking off, of course, but there is a pissed-off god to consider. If I'm gonna skip out on him, I'd rather wait a while so he can get distracted by something else."
It sounded plausible enough, but Iolaus didn't seem to be buying it. Uncooperative ass. "I'm sure."
"And then," Autolycus continued, narrowing his eyes, "I discovered I had this burning need to find out just what in Tartarus is your problem, anyway. And since I've got time to kill, I figured I may as well ask."
"Yeah? Well, it's really fucking simple, Autolycus." Iolaus tossed a stone from one hand to the other as he stared over the water. His eyebrows were lowered in a glower. "I don't intend on letting one more innocent person die for me. Ever."
"Well, now," Autolycus said, "I don't know that I'd call Tiro innocent--"
"Oh, cut the crap. You know as well as I do that--"
"Listen, pal, I'm fond of the old guy myself, but you can't save everyone. Tiro can just tell Xena where we are-- well, were-- and then live happily ever after. Trust me, he can look after himself just fine. I mean, maybe I'm missing a key element here, but I don't see what the problem is."
Iolaus sighed, the harsh lines carved in his face making him look ten years older. "Do you really think he'd just tell her like that? I mean, I've only know him for a week now, but somehow he didn't strike me as the type. If he were, he wouldn't be helping people like us in the first place." Autolycus opened his mouth, but Iolaus didn't let him get a word in. "And besides, even if he did, do you really think the Conqueror would just let him go once she found us gone? I think you're just trying to rationalize your motives, and not doing a very good job of it."
This time Autolycus spoke as quickly as he could. "I'm not--"
"Third," Iolaus cut him off, "it's not about 'saving everyone', it's about being responsible for your own actions. I told you, I'm not letting anyone die because of me, ever again. Have you ever done that? Have you ever just stood there and watched someone die, someone who didn't deserve it, and known you were the cause of it?"
Autolycus stared down at his boots, at the soft, dew-dampened dirt and the light covering of fallen leaves beneath his soles, and tried not to think of angry green eyes and long gold hair. "Yeah, well, you know what they say," he muttered, keeping his face impassive. "It gets easier after the first time."
"No, I didn't think you had," Iolaus said bitterly. Autolycus didn't look up. "Well, you've led a pretty sheltered life, haven't you, Mr. King of Thieves? Because I've done it, and it sucks. And no, it never gets easier to let someone die when you can prevent it, it just gets easier to shut yourself off to it. And if you do that, then you're dead. You're not human. 'Cause there's a kind of power in it, and it hurts. And then there's people like you who've never taken a life, never had that kind of power, standing around saying someone else can die just so you can save your own skin, and let me tell you, your own life's not that important. Not if you have to live with that on your conscience, if you see that person's face every time you close your eyes--" He broke off, sounding frustrated; glancing out of the corner of his eye, Autolycus saw him dig his fingernails into his palms.
"Fuck, I don't know how to make you understand, but-- that's how it is." Iolaus sounded defeated. "Take it or leave it. Just do whatever you want, I'm not bothering with it anymore. You know, I thought maybe you weren't such a bad guy after all, but obviously I was wrong, and you know what? I really don't care. I am going to rescue Tiro. If you don't want to, it's your ass getting fried, not mine."
"Not if I run fast enough."
"Sure," Iolaus said, turning to face him with a rustle of dead leaves. Autolycus kept his head down. "But could you live with yourself?"
He didn't say anything.
"I have heard about you, you know. They say the King of Thieves isn't a killer. If you run now, you might as well cut Tiro's throat yourself."
Autolycus stared down at his hands. Long-fingered, flexible hands, well-suited to picking pockets and liberating valuable objects and wielding delicate instruments. But murder....
It was easier to think of it as a point of no return. Not quite so easy to look for a way out.
"That whole big speech of yours," he began, trying for casual with some small success. "That something you picked up in the mystical east?"
Iolaus exhaled shortly, his breath coming out in a tired huff. "No, I worked that one out all on my own. You don't know what you're talking about here, and I don't expect you to listen to me. I mean, you're the king, right? But I'm doing it, with or without you, and in fact at the moment I'd prefer without."
Autolycus rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. I must be crazy, he thought. Or maybe just human. Yay me.
"Well then," he said after a moment, "I hate to say it-- I really do-- but you're out of luck."
Iolaus turned to stare at him again, and this time Autolycus met his gaze squarely, slipping on his usual confident mask as easily as pulling on an old, worn tunic. Iolaus's eyes narrowed. "Oh, what, now you decide to help? How very fucking generous of you."
And oddly enough, these were Iolaus's words of peace.
"How very fucking gracious of you," Autolycus retorted. "What can I say? Your impassioned heartfelt words have struck a chord, deep down inside me--"
"Shut up."
"Love you too."
They turned together, once again staring across the pond.
After a moment Autolycus said, "So did you have a plan, or did you just want us to smash our way in, in the best tradition of heroes everywhere, and have a bunch of archers use us for pincushions?"
"Well, I hadn't got quite that far, but I think we can safely say that's not an option."
"Oh, good. I kind of like my body parts the way they are."
"We'd have to know a lot more about the castle, its defenses, this area in general, and a lot of other shit that's going to take a lot of time that we don't have. Any ideas yet?"
"There is someone we can ask," Autolycus said slowly. "Someone who knows Corinth, someone who's an experienced thief, someone who'd be very dedicated to the cause. Who could maybe even help us out some."
"Who can shield us from those archers, you mean."
"Now would I suggest such a thing? That's what you're here for."
Iolaus turned to look at him. "Dedicated to the cause? Why would he be...." He trailed off, his expression turning wary.
"She."
"Who?"
"She's a she," Autolycus said. "Not a he."
He stood abruptly and reached his hand down to Iolaus. "Come on. We'd better hurry if we want to beat the rush."
Agamede was not having a good day.
In fact, she couldn't remember the last time she'd had one. (This was not strictly true; the last good day had been about three days ago, before she and Sileia had parted company for their respective hometowns. But for Agamede, prone to the occasional melodramatic exaggeration, the depths of her current misery were such that she couldn't imagine ever being without it. It was, as such, a metaphorical sort of not remembering.) Her father had been taken prisoner the night before, by no less than the Conqueror's own army, for protecting a couple of stupid, rotten criminals (she thought, conveniently forgetting for the moment that her own extracurricular activities were somewhat less than lawful, as filial devotion knows no boundaries of logic).
The Conqueror, repressive bitch that she was-- Agamede had seen no shortage of her handiwork during her travels with Sileia, the intricacies of travelling itself being a prime example; it was nearly impossible to get into one town from another without official papers, but that at least was easy enough to get around if you knew the right people.
Then there were the Amazons, with whom Sileia was apparently well acquainted. According to Agamede's fiancee, the Amazon Nation hadn't always been the pathetic, scattered handfuls of women that it was now, but they had been nearly wiped out in a war with the Centaurs a few years ago. After the fighting ended, the Amazons had slowly but surely started to replenish their numbers under their new queen, Velasca, during which time the Conqueror was busy, well, conquering her way into power. Then Velasca had gotten the idea to take back their old lands-- lands that now belonged to the Empire.
The Conqueror, getting wind of this, had destroyed them. Burned their lands, beseiged them with armies of thousands-- genocide was the only word for it. The devastation was even worse than that caused by the war; only a scattering of the once-extensive Amazon Nation now existed, in miniscule tribes of maybe ten or fifteen, the last holdouts unwilling to give up their way of life and be assimilated into the Conqueror's worldwide guard state.
All the Amazons had wanted was the land that was rightfully theirs, and they'd been reduced to near-nonexistence for it. Sileia, ever the idealist, had hopes for the Nation's eventual restoration; privately, Agamede felt their days were already numbered.
Agamede was not a fan of the Conqueror.
And now she'd taken Tiro to do who knew what to him (Agamede's mind stubbornly refused to supply details; denial was much more pleasant at the moment), and he hadn't even let his own daughter try to help him. That still rankled. She wanted-- she needed to come up with a plan of rescue, to try and save him. She needed to be doing something.
The pouch of coins had been gone that morning, but as she'd announced more than once, you couldn't rely on Hermes for anything. She wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or just frustrated.
So what was she doing at the moment? Not poring over blueprints of the Conqueror's castle and plotting a way in. No, of course not. Agamede was currently playing hostess at the Temple of Hermes in Corinth.
Well, somebody had to do it.
She settled back in the hard stone chair with a sigh, pursed her lips in irritation, and glowered at the trembling man crouched at her feet. "He's not here," she said wearily. "Come back tomorrow."
The man stared pleadingly up at her, his wrinkled face wreathed in misery. "But I must speak to the high priest! It's a private matter of great importance--"
"Look," Agamede said, "I'm not keeping him in my pocket." The Conqueror is, she thought, but she didn't say it. "He's just not here. Now what could you possibly need from the high priest that you can't do for yourself?"
"My son-- he's travelling to Delphi, I wish to pray for his safe passage--"
"Yeah, and what makes you think Hermes'll do you any favors?"
He looked shocked. "Miss, you mustn't! Praise Hermes-- the greatest of all gods!" This last was offered up in hasty prayer, in case the god was even now hovering above them, about to blow the temple to bits for this particular impiety.
Agamede sighed and surveyed the temple, busy with worshippers and gossipers, bright clothing in stark contrast to the darker outfits of habitual denizens of the night. All come to give offering to Hermes, who as far as she had learned in her seventeen years of life didn't give two fucks about them all. It was so pointless. Not to mention a waste of money and effort. For the thousandth time she made a mental note to never take up religion.
She looked down at the shaking but determined worshipper and sighed again. "Okay, look. If you're really set on it, then leave an offering and he'll get back to you as soon as possible, okay?"
The man babbled a thank you and scurried off to the altar, and Agamede rubbed her eyes. She could feel a headache forming. It was going to be a long day.
The temple was busier than she remembered it being, but by keeping half an ear on the conversations she learned that something fairly major had happened in the world of thieves recently. Someone had stolen something from the Conqueror, or escaped from her, or something like that, and of course everyone had to gather and talk about who had pulled off the impossible feat. Attendance was sure to die down as time went on.
Agamede's eyes drifted past the steps and up the path leading to town. Two cloaked figures were hobbling along the path, clutching at each other for support, and she watched them dispiritedly, imagining their particular life story. An old couple, she decided-- married forever and, like so many others, suffering financially under the Conqueror's reign-- come to give the last of their meager possessions to the capricious god Hermes in the hope that it would somehow make things better. Maybe asking him to protect them from thieves. She'd seen it often enough; these were the offerings that her father always had to clear away at the end of the day and store in the back room, because Hermes never accepted them. Nor would he, she thought. It was like asking Ares to protect a village from war. That just wasn't how it worked. Now, if there were a God of Law-Abiding Citizens, maybe....
The couple made it slowly to the top of the steps and stood before her. The hoods of their cloaks hid their faces from view, but one of them, Agamede saw, had long curls that in the sunlight could be blond, or could be white going yellow from age.
"What do you want?" she demanded, a little more sharply than she'd intended.
"Now now, young lady," the taller figure said in a creaky voice, "is that any way to speak to your betters?"
Agamede frowned. She leaned forward, peering up at the "old man"'s face. Then she turned to see the grinning face of his curly-haired "wife".
Speaking of headaches, she thought.
Her mouth tightened, and she rose to stand on the chair, giving herself as much height as possible. "The temple is closed," she barked over their heads.
Ignoring the loud complaints from the assembled worshippers, she jumped down from her perch, grabbed the two cloaked figures and dragged them towards the inner chamber. They came more or less willingly, with only a little good-natured grumbling-- a good thing, since the maneuver wouldn't have worked nearly as well if they'd resisted.
Once inside, she shoved the two away and evicted three rather surprised thieves engaged in some doubtless illegal exchange behind the altar. "Out," she snapped, brushing away their protests. "We're closed. Out. Now."
She slammed the door shut behind them and then rounded on the two cloaked men.
Autolycus was brushing himself off. "Hey! No manhandling the merchandise, kid."
His shorter companion pushed back the hood of his cloak and shook out his long hair. He looked around appraisingly. "Not bad, as temples go."
Agamede stormed towards them and stuck her nose in Autolycus's face, or tried to anyway; unfortunately, she could only get up about as high as his collarbone. "What in Tartarus is going on?" she demanded, jabbing her finger into his chest for good measure.
"Want me to kneel down, so you can yell at me properly?" he offered. The short one snickered.
"Don't give me that. Don't try to make a joke and pretend this isn't serious! What. Is. Going. On. Here?"
Autolycus pulled his own hood back. He looked more than a little uncomfortable; a recent good-sized bruise seemed to be developing under his left eye. "Oh, well. Um... where should I start?"
"How about with why my father's in the Conqueror's dungeons!"
"Oh, that." His hand drifted to his chin. Annoyingly handsome as ever, Agamede thought spitefully, and Dad's been locked up and had who knows what done to him, and what's wrong with this picture? "Well-- look, Ags, that's kind of--"
"Excuse me," the other man interrupted, stepping forward with a smile. "Hi. I'm Iolaus."
She turned and blinked at him, feeling herself start to smile back before she caught herself and frowned instead. He wasn't much taller than she was; his face was weathered but still handsome-- probably still in his thirties, if he spend a lot of time outside, which judging from his tan he probably did-- and he had pale blue eyes and the aforementioned smile. Then there was his hair, not precisely curly now that she looked, but more like wavy and wild, falling past his shoulders. Not bad, Agamede thought absently, in the same abstract way she usually reserved for statues and temples and really nice horses. He seemed surrounded by a perpetual air of affability. Still, there was something in his face, something shadowed... like he'd lost something important, a long time ago....
Her frown deepened. "Agamede."
"Tiro's daughter, I presume," Iolaus said, taking her hand. "May I say, in an entirely complimentary way, that you look nothing like him whatsoever?"
Agamede stared at him blankly. Beside her, Autolycus snorted.
"Not going to work, pal," he said. "You might as well know--"
"May I have my hand back, please?" Agamede said.
Iolaus released her hand with another grin. It was, she decided, studying him, going to be very hard to dislike this man. She'd just have to do her best.
Then he said, "Here's the short version. The Conqueror is looking for the both of us, and your father was hiding us from her. Then Hermes came and said we had to rescue him. Something about a prayer?"
Agamede grimaced. "Right. Well." She turned back to Autolycus, furious again. "I knew this was your fault somehow! I mean, I thought I heard that solider say your name, but it didn't really register, but now-- I knew it!"
Iolaus leaned in close to the King of Thieves. "She doesn't seem to like you much," he said in a stage whisper.
"Aw, this is just her way of saying hello." Autolycus smiled, somewhat nervously. "I hope."
She scowled and started to say something cutting, but Autolycus didn't give her the chance. "Listen, Ags, we're going after him, but we could use your help."
Agamede blinked again. "You're going to rescue my dad from the Conqueror?"
She didn't miss the dark look he shot Iolaus. Iolaus just smiled. "Believe me," Autolycus said with a sigh, "it doesn't sound any better from here."
"Yeah, well, you'd better be doing something about it, since it's your fault she took him in the first place." Agamede's scowl deepened as she started to pace. "You need all the help you can get, is what you could use. I'd have to-- gods, I don't even know-- lock this place up, get a message to Sileia--"
"And how is the lovely lady?" Autolycus interrupted in a low voice.
Iolaus stepped away then, out of earshot, with surprising tact for someone the so-called King of Thieves kept company with. Unnecessary tact, but tact nonetheless. Agamede made a mental note to ask Autolycus where he'd come across him.
"We're getting married," she mumbled, still pacing.
Autolycus blinked at the news. "Oh. Well-- well, frankly, that sounds like Tartarus on a stick to me, but I'm assuming that's a good thing for you, so... congratulations. At least I didn't get my nose broken for nothing."
"I'm sure," Agamede muttered, distracted, remembering that Autolycus wasn't all bad after all. She made another mental note-- after her father was safe, she'd apologize. Maybe.
An odd expression crossed his face, and then he frowned. "You know, you could try to sound a little less excited," he chided.
Agamede sighed. "Oh, you don't get it. I'm simply ecstatic. And d'you know, Dad even gave his blessing?"
"But that's--"
"Great, yeah, except it's mainly because he things he's going to die! My point is that I have other things on my mind right now."
Autolycus hesitated. He seemed, against all odds, to be struggling with a moral issue. Agamede said, "So just let me close up here, and we'll go find a tavern and talk--"
"Look, Ags," he interrupted, apparently coming to a decision, "I'm sorry, I can't ask you to help--"
Her jaw dropped. "Excuse me?"
"Nothing against you or your abilities, you understand, it just wouldn't be fair to you or Sileia--"
"It's not fair to leave me out of it!" Agamede hissed, making an abortive gesture for his face, her fingernails hooked like claws. Autolycus retreated, and she followed, fuming. "For Hermes's sake! What is it about guys and marriage, anyway? Like it'd be just dandy to risk my life as long as she was just my girlfriend, but now we're engaged, all of a sudden everyone has to keep me safe and protected?"
"Yes," Autolycus said candidly. "Well, there's a bit more to it, actually, like the fact that marriage is a bit more serious than just girlfriends, and it sort of implies responsibility-- one reason why I tend to avoid the institution entirely-- such as the responsibility for you to not get killed before the blessed event can take place, but when you get right down to it-- yes, it's a guy thing."
Agamede stamped her foot again. Inwardly she cringed. This is getting to be quite an annoying habit, she thought, I hope I don't keep it up. "I don't believe you! You got my father captured and nearly killed and now I'm supposed to rely on you to get him out safely and you won't even let me help?"
"Now wait just a minute. If you don't think I can do it--"
"I don't think you'll be more concerned about his welfare than your own! I know you! You don't risk your own neck for anything! Gods, I can't wait to see how long this one lasts before you turn tail and run--"
"Well, I can't very well do that, can I, if Hermes is gonna turn my ass over to the Conqueror the minute I do!" Autolycus retorted. "Thanks to your prayer, I might add, and when did you turn religious anyway? Because if it was your idea of some amusing irony, to get us to go after him--"
He broke off, looking angry and frustrated and a little surprised, and Agamede's hand went automatically to her mouth. "I just asked him to look after him," she whispered. "I mean, I thought he'd go rescue him. He's a god, right? Gods can do that. But-- oh, I should've known better than to trust him!"
"Yeah," Autolycus said. "Those gods are a pain, all right. I can't go anywhere till Tiro is safe. So are you satisfied now that I won't do the sensible thing and just leave?"
Agamede sighed. "Okay. Look, I'm sorry about that, but you did get him into this, you know. It's only fair, when you think about it."
He rolled his eyes, but before he could say anything, she added quickly, "But if you think I'm just gonna stay at home and wait like a good little girl--"
"You know, I hate to say it," Autolycus said, his voice suddenly bright, "but you really haven't got a choice. Because if you go after him on your own, you'll just fuck it up."
Agamede gaped at him, outraged. She felt her hands clench into fists. "That is just so-- so--"
"It is, isn't it," he agreed, stepping back. Agamede was somewhat mollified to see that she frightened him, at least a little. Of course-- he'd seen her fight, and he wouldn't fight back. Whether from some outdated notion of chivalry or because her father would rip him into little pieces if he did, it was still some sort of chauvinism, and the thought made her feel distinctly less mollified. Her darkening mood didn't escape Autolycus's notice; his voice was slightly tinged with desperation when he called, "Hey, Blondie! Over here!"
Iolaus wandered in then from wherever it was he'd been. Wherever it was had obviously included food; he was munching on a piece of baklava as he spoke. "We ready to go?"
"Ags here won't be joining us," Autolycus said with what was obviously meant to be a charming smile.
"Don't call me that," Agamede growled.
Iolaus looked back and forth between the two. "Did I miss something?"
She started to advance again. "Only that 'Tols' here was apparently struck by a sudden fatal case of 'protect the little woman' syndrome--"
"You wound me, woman. It's not safe--"
"So fucking what?" she yelled. "When's that ever stopped me? When's it ever stopped you?"
"Oookay." Iolaus popped the last of the pastry in his mouth and backed away, licking his fingers. "You guys are obviously still busy--"
"Now don't be silly," Autolycus said with an unbearably smug smile, throwing a restraining arm across his shoulders. "We're completely finished here."
"Dad'll kill you." Agamede was nearly beside herself with anger.
"He'll thank me."
"I'll kill you!"
"That, I'll risk."
Iolaus waved his fingers back and forth between them. "So she's not--"
"Change of plans."
Autolycus broke into a run, dragging a bewildered Iolaus behind him. Agamede's enraged cry of "Gorgon-fucking shit-eating satyr-sucking sons of bacchaes!" followed them out of the temple, floating out into the warm midday air.
"I don't think... she likes you very much," Iolaus panted as he ran, pushing the other man's arm away. Agamede's blistering invective still rang in his ears.
"Are you kidding? She loves me." Autolycus slowed to a stop and pulled the hood of his cloak up over his head again. "The kid always did have an inventive turn of phrase, I'll give her that."
With one last glance at his new reluctant partner, Iolaus followed suit. "If she loves you, I'd hate to see the women you really manage to piss off," he muttered as they made their way unnoticed back to town. "So, plan beta?"
"Yeah," Autolycus said. "Time to think one up."
Agamede walked out onto the steps and watched them go.
"Damn it," she whispered. Galling as it was to admit, Autolycus might have a point with that responsibility thing, although it was certainly the last thing she'd ever expected to hear from him. Sileia would certainly be unbearable if she went and got herself killed. And of course, as good as she thought she was, the King of Thieves was better-- if she tried to follow, he'd know in a second.
The alternative, of course, was to just sit by and do nothing while her father was being (and here she finally admitted it to herself) tortured.
"Damn it," she repeated more forcefully. A thought popped, unbidden, into her head. She could always make a deal with the Conqueror, offer up the two thieves in exchange for her father's life and safety....
No. Of course she couldn't. There was a code, after all, and that was way beyond it. Besides, Tiro would never forgive her.
But the idea wouldn't go away.
Her pale blue eyes sought out the horizon line.
"Sileia," Agamede said softly. "I need you here. If only you knew."
On a heavily wooded path, some distance away, a slender, dark-haired woman with solemn gray eyes drew her horse to a stop and looked around, seeing nothing but thick green vegetation, hearing only the buzzing of insects and the chirping of birds.
After a moment she nudged her horse again and started trotting faster down the path.
Prologue | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Ten | Epilogue Email: mayatawi@populli.net