Half A Life
by Maya Tawipart five
"If you want me
It's changing
If you want it
Everything's changing""How am I to know
What you want me to feel?
Counterfeit or real?
(I'm not the one you wanted
not the thing you keep)"
-Sleater-Kinney
The sun was already high in the sky by the time Iolaus dared to open his eyes. Light streamed across the wooden floor; dust motes danced lazily in midair. He sat up with a distinct sense of déjà vu, rubbed his eyes, and sneezed.
He was about to flop back down-- he could probably get another couple hours of sleep, and then maybe Autolycus would be up for a quickie (he smiled sleepily at his own pun)-- when something across the room caught his eye. Iolaus squinted up at the ceiling and frowned.
"What, exactly, are you doing up there?" he asked after a moment. Definitely déjà vu.
Autolycus grinned down at him from the corner of the ceiling where he was pressed up against the walls, then dropped down to the floor. He landed in a crouch and flicked his wrist, letting his mechanized grappling hook retract back to its sheath in his sleeve.
"Practicing," he explained, rising to his feet. "Nobody ever looks up. The ceiling's one of the best places to hide."
"Thank you so very much for that beginner's lesson in basics, O Mighty King of Thieves. Where'd you get that thing, anyway?"
"Picked up the parts in the market yesterday. It's pretty simple to put together, if you happen to know what you're doing." Autolycus brushed himself off and sauntered over to the bed, favoring Iolaus with an insufferable smirk. "About time you rejoined the world of the living."
Iolaus groaned and dropped his head back on the pillow. "I don't believe this. Please don't tell me you're a morning person."
"Why, does that bother you?"
"Yes, it bothers me," he said through gritted teeth.
Autolycus grinned again. "Then I'm a morning person."
Iolaus glowered up at him. Autolycus was already washed and fully dressed in his green tunic and black leather breeches, his hair perfectly arranged and his mustache and small goatee neatly trimmed. His whole demeanor was one with a very definite message-- hands off, don't rumple. He obviously wasn't up for another round, and Iolaus was quickly losing his desire for the same. Next to him, in the harsh light of day, Iolaus-- naked, sweaty, and damp-- felt unbearably dirty.
But when he looked closer, Autolycus's face was pale and shadowed, as though he hadn't gotten enough sleep, and his dark eyes kept sliding away from Iolaus's stare. He was obviously uncomfortable, and Iolaus was perversely glad of that fact.
It was just casual sex, he reminded himself. You've had enough experience to know.
Still, he couldn't shake the strangely hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach as he rolled out of bed and to his feet, deliberately unabashed by his nudity. He was aware of Autolycus's eyes burning into his back as he started to gather his clothes.
His hair fell in front of his face, and safely hidden behind it, he couldn't help smiling a little. Autolycus had enjoyed himself at least; that much had been obvious. Now, apparently, everything was back to the way it had been before. At least they'd had fun. It was as much Autolycus's loss as his own.
Even so, he thought, we probably shouldn't have done that till after. Everything that had made so much sense the night before now seemed a tangle of far-too-elastic logic. And now he was going to have one Hades of a time working with his new partner and managing to keep his mind on the job. Iolaus would never admit it to him, but Autolycus was really, really good. Almost as good as he thought he was.
"I'm going to wash," was all he said. "I'll meet you downstairs for breakfast."
Autolycus opened his mouth.
"Unless you already have," Iolaus added, pulling on his breeches for the trek down the hall to the washroom.
"Oh-- no, no," Autolycus said quickly. "No, that's fine. Great. Sounds like a plan."
Iolaus slipped out into the hall. Just beyond the door, he hesitated, glancing back in time to see Autolycus drop down into a chair, looking unusually thoughtful, then squirm in his seat with a grimace of discomfort.
He smiled again as he started towards the washroom. After a moment, he started to hum.
Agamede sat sprawled on the hard marble chair, drumming her fingers lightly on one carved white arm. She was bored. More than that, she was bored and antsy. She wanted to be doing something, anything, other than what she was doing at the moment.
She wanted to be helping her father, not staying at the temple keeping house. But she was one woman and the Conqueror was, well, the Conqueror, and even youthful arrogance is capable of occasionally recognizing its limitations.
She wanted Sileia to be with her, so they could both go rescue her father together, or, barring that, so her fiancee could at least comfort her and be a warm body to hold on to. But Sileia was days away, and Agamede was on her own.
"Leave it to the men," she muttered with a scowl. "Now there's a plan-- I don't think."
The temple was practically deserted. The bustle of the past couple of days, she knew, had been an anomaly; now that news of the thief who'd stolen some sort of rock from the Conqueror was dying down, so was the stream of mouths and ears eager for the latest gossip. Agamede didn't really care whether or not they were still congregating, just so long as they were doing it somewhere else.
Sometimes she wondered why Hermes even bothered with temples. Most of the thieves she knew were more like Autolycus than any sort of devout worshipper; even her father, Hermes's very own high priest, had grown into his religion after he'd joined the priesthood. They simply weren't the type to turn religious until it looked like they might get caught. For a thief-- a real thief, not a purse-snatcher or pickpocket-- it was simply more practical to have faith in one's own abilities than in some god who regarded mortals as little more than fun toys to play with and sometimes break. Especially a god as flighty and capricious as Hermes.
On the other hand, he had answered her prayer. Sort of.
It was, she decided, too frustrating to bear thinking about. She did her best to put it out of her mind, but the uncertainty continued to gnaw at her.
Just then her eyes narrowed, and she slumped further down in her seat, scowling again. "Speak of the hydras," she said darkly.
Autolycus and his blond friend were walking swiftly up the path to the temple. They were still wearing the stupid cloaks, but at least they weren't bothering to fake-limp anymore. In fact, they looked like they had a rather unpleasant schedule to keep. She wondered what in Tartarus they could possibly want.
She asked them, sharply, once they were in earshot.
Autolycus looked uncomfortable. "Look, Ags--"
"Don't you talk to me like you're my wise and mighty older brother, Autolycus, I'd kill myself if I thought we were related."
The blond muttered something that sounded like, "Yeah, she loves you all right."
Autolycus seemed caught halfway between alarmed and entertained. Then he nudged his friend, and the blond rolled his eyes and discreetly stepped away.
"Look," Autolycus said again, in an undertone, once his partner was out of range. "I know how much you want to help. If I were in your position--" He hesitated a shade too long, just long enough for Agamede to suspect he wasn't telling the whole truth when he continued, "Well, frankly, I can't imagine being in your position. Sorry. But it's not like we don't want your help, it's just--"
"I understand," she interrupted. "I'm just a little girl playing at thievery. I'd be no real use, right?"
"That's not it at all. In fact, we came here the first time to ask for your help."
Agamede glowered at him. "Dad always said-- says-- that it's not becoming for a girl to be a thief. He wants me to be a good fluffy little housewife. The problem is he can't stand meek, docile women; he just feels like I should be one, for propriety's sake." She sighed. "I think he wishes I'd been a boy. Everything would have been so much less confusing then."
"That's Tiro for you. Don't tell him I ever actually said this, 'cause he'd probably kill me, but he's terrified that he raised you wrong, that he made some sort of horrible mistake that wouldn't have happened if your mother had been alive. He's worried that he did something wrong, and for your father to doubt his own competence, well, you know it's a big deal for him. You're important to him. He just wants to think he's doing what's best for you."
Agamede bit her lower lip.
Autolycus took a deep breath, paused, and then said, "That's him. Not me. Some of the best thieves in the business are women. The world's changing. I mean, look at us-- the entirety of the known world is being ruled by a cruel, crazed, power-mad but very female despot."
She folded her arms across her chest, waiting for the point.
"All I'm saying is, I know Tiro is your father and everything, but-- and I have to say it-- this isn't about you, and it's pretty damned immature of you to keep thinking it is. It has nothing to do with what I think of you as a person, or as a thief. It's about me and Iolaus getting Tiro in trouble, and now we have to get him out. And while I would ordinarily welcome any input you would care to give, you owe it to Sileia not to get involved, at least not without her knowing." His smile looked more like a grimace. "It's all part of this responsibility thing I keep hearing about. I don't think I like it too much."
Agamede narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth to snap back at him. Then she closed it again and thought for a minute. "You and Iolaus, huh?"
The thief glanced over at the man in question. Iolaus was leaning against the door to the temple, his arms crossed and his face stony. "Yeah," he murmured, with a brief expression that the priest's daughter couldn't quite place. "The two of us."
Agamede stared at him, then at Iolaus. "Why did you come back to tell me all this?"
"Because...." His eyes slid away from hers. "Oh, Tartarus. Because I didn't want to leave things the way they were."
"Because you didn't want me to do anything stupid and mess things up, you mean."
"Because I wanted you to understand why I feel the way I do. And to know it's nothing personal."
Agamede sighed, then set her jaw, abruptly coming to a decision. "Get out of here."
He blinked. "Excuse me?"
She suddenly felt very tired. It had been a long, sleepless night. "Leave," she said again. "Go away. Because you're actually making some small amount of sense, but if you don't leave I'm gonna end up making you take me anyway."
Autolycus inclined his head and turned to go. Then he stopped and said softly, "Agamede?"
"What."
His voice was barely audible. "Thank you."
"If he's hurt," she said coldly, "I'll kill you both. It's on your head, buddy. Remember that."
Autolycus seemed about to say something. He caught himself and, shaking his head, hurried down the stairs. Iolaus followed more slowly.
They stepped out onto the road, soon losing themselves in the crowd despite Agamede's watchful eye.
She sat down heavily in the chair again and sighed again.
"Why he doesn't have a cushion here, I'll never know," she said.
Closing her eyes, she found herself overwhelmed by a sudden wave of longing, the strength of which surprised even her. She just had to wait for Sileia to arrive. Everything would be all right then.
Under the warm sun of mid-morning, Agamede drifted off to thoughts of the strong, capable woman whom she wanted beside her more than anything in the world.
Autolycus cast surreptitious glances at the man beside him as they walked. Something was wrong, and he had the disturbing feeling that he knew what it was. There was an uneasy energy between them, not something he was used to feeling the morning after. Of course, that might have had something to do with the fact that he never actually stuck around for the morning after.
He was pretty sure it wasn't the sex itself. Blondie had certainly enjoyed himself well enough at the time, hadn't he? Autolycus's ego wouldn't allow for thinking otherwise, which was good, because that way lay madness and psychosomatic performance inadequacies.
So it had to be his subtle dismissal that morning. Damn it, Autolycus had tried to be pleasant about it-- well, as pleasant as one could be in such situations. Didn't Iolaus understand that the job would go much easier if they kept everything impersonal? One mistake was enough. His body begged to differ. He did his kingly best to ignore it for once.
Or else Blondie just had something else on his mind. Maybe he'd knocked up some nice young slip of a girl. Maybe he'd found some time to research the survival rate of thieves who tried to break into the Conqueror's castle. (Short answer: slim to absolutely nil.) Maybe he had some sort of exotic sexually transmitted disease....
Autolycus forced himself to ignore the sudden itchiness in his pants. Sympathetic reaction, that was all.
Finally, though, he just couldn't take it anymore. "What's going on?"
Iolaus didn't look at him. "Meaning?"
"Meaning you're not your usual irritating self." Autolycus resisted the urge to flinch. That had come out a lot less lightly than he'd intended.
"Waking up to find a lunatic dangling from the ceiling tends to have that effect on me."
Autolycus rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure. Look, if there's a problem I think I deserve to know. Being that you're going to have my life in your hands and all."
"And vice versa," Iolaus muttered. "Nothing's wrong, okay?"
"You can do your job?"
"Yes, I can do my job."
"Because if something's wrong--"
Iolaus stopped in his tracks. "If something's wrong, you'll what?" he demanded. "Set me straight with a few well-chosen words? Just like you showed Agamede the error of her ways?"
Autolycus felt his jaw drop. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Her fucking father's in mortal fucking danger, Autolycus, all because of us, and you won't even let her help because you don't want to get her killed! She's a big girl, you know. She can make her own decisions!"
"What, you think I should've let her come along? And when her fiancee comes and finds her dead body waiting, what am I supposed to say then?"
"Oh, I don't know, tell the truth, maybe?"
"Oh, now there's a genius solution, I don't know why I never thought of that! I thought you were the one babbling on about responsibility yesterday. If you didn't mean it, I'm happy to leave, right now." Iolaus didn't say anything, and Autolycus added, "Why are you so upset over Agamede, anyway?"
"This has nothing to do with Agamede!"
"Then what the fuck are you on about?"
Iolaus whirled around and started to storm away. "I don't want to talk about this."
"Well, obviously." Autolycus grabbed his arm, forcing him to a stop. Iolaus jerked away. "If this is about last night, it was a good time, okay? I didn't know you'd expect hearts and flowers afterwards, and besides, if you'll recall, you threw yourself at me--"
"Oh, would you get over yourself already?" Iolaus threw his hands up in frustration. "Not everything in the world is about you! If your ego were any bigger, there wouldn't be enough room in the universe for the both of you! Like I'd fall all to pieces if I never got to fuck you again!"
Autolycus jumped as though he'd been branded. Heads were starting to turn in their direction. To his horror, he felt his face growing warm.
"Would you keep it down?" he hissed, his eyes darting to the side.
Iolaus gave him a malicious, unnerving, and altogether unpleasant smile. "What, you don't want your precious reputation hurt? Don't want people to know the King of Thieves takes it up the ass?"
"No, I just don't enjoy discussing my sex life in public at the top of my lungs!" Autolycus snapped under his breath. "Can we please take this somewhere else?"
Iolaus, apparently overjoyed by this new ammunition, paid him no heed. "Come on, admit it. That was your first time, wasn't it?"
Autolycus's eyebrows shot up. "What?"
"Oh, don't be embarrassed, it's nothing to be ashamed of. You certainly felt like a virgin--"
Before he knew what he was doing, Autolycus had grabbed Iolaus by the collar of his cloak and hauled him up to eye level. "No, it was not my first time," he forced out through gritted teeth. "It's just been a while. Okay? Can we drop this now, please?"
Iolaus met his gaze calmly. Then he reached up, grasping the hands that held him. Without breaking his stare, he wrapped his fingers around Autolycus's and wrenched them away.
They stood like that for a few moments, holding hands in a bizarre parody of affection, glaring at each other with an almost palpable heat. A crowd of interested spectators had started to assemble, and Autolycus was aware of the eyes burning into them, of feeling far too exposed and vulnerable here in the middle of the street. But he couldn't concentrate on much besides the look on Iolaus's face.
Then Iolaus said quietly, "Could've fooled me."
Autolycus yanked his hands back and, without thinking, drove his left fist into Iolaus's face.
Iolaus staggered back, his hands flying to his jaw, wiping away blood from his newly split lip. Autolycus watched him warily.
Well, he'd certainly kept things professional.
Iolaus straightened, looking like a Fury-- eyes blazing, fists clenched at his side, ready to fight. Autolycus took a step back.
"Now, listen," he began. "We're even now. You have to admit, I owed you that--"
Iolaus turned and his foot shot out, slamming into Autolycus's solar plexus. Autolycus doubled over, his words cutting off in a harsh wheeze; for a few seconds that lasted far too long, he seriously considered being sick. The crowd, bloodthirsty as crowds tended to be, started to cheer.
Autolycus steadied himself and managed to catch his breath, slowly unfolding into an upright position. Iolaus, to his surprise, wasn't pressing the advantage, instead hanging back and waiting for him to make the next move. He looked almost... apologetic? No, definitely not apologetic.
Autolycus marched towards him.
"Don't you fucking push me around," he said softly, jabbing a finger into Iolaus's chest for emphasis. Iolaus flinched but didn't move away. "Like I said, it was your idea. Now I suggest we get out of here before the both of us get arrested."
Iolaus's mouth twisted. It was a particularly ugly expression on top of his swollen, split lip. "There you go again, being the all-knowing, sensible one. You know what's best for everybody, don't you? Self-righteousness doesn't suit you, Autolycus."
"Okay, fine," Autolycus growled. "I'll be the immature brat, and you do all the work."
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
"Only that I don't give two flying harpies about 'setting you straight', I just want to get through this alive!"
Iolaus threw up his hands again. "Oh, so I've been immature! My mistake. I thought you could handle it!"
"Handle it?" Autolycus echoed, his voice rising. "Now you listen to me, you little--"
"Listen to you, right. Like you know everything. You're so full of yourself! It's just killing you to work with me, isn't it? Especially after I succeeded where you got caught!"
"That wasn't even you!"
"So why are you always trying to prove yourself better than me?" Iolaus countered. "Face it-- you just can't deal with it!"
Autolycus glared at him. "Oh, of all the people to be saddled with--"
"Of all the people to be stuck with!"
"There they are! Get them!"
The cry came from a nearby guard-- five little words, money-back guaranteed to get the attention of any thief. Iolaus and Autolycus shut up, exchanged glances, and turned to run.
More guards blocked the way.
"Oh, Tartarus on a bad day," Autolycus moaned. "This just keeps getting better and better."
"Would you quit whining already?" Iolaus shot back, retreating.
"Oh, well, do you have any better ideas?"
"I guess there's really only one thing we can do," Iolaus said, as the guards closed in around them, hefting crossbows and grinning with malicious anticipation.
Autolycus cast a quick, speculative glance around him. No handy trees, not even any nearby buildings. They had, he noted despondedly, stopped to argue right in the middle of the road, right in the middle of town. They really should have chosen a more escape-handy spot. Like, say, in the next town over.
"I was afraid you'd say that," he sighed.
They circled around so that they stood back to back.
"How many do you count?"
"Five on my side," Autolycus said. "You?"
"Four."
"All armed?"
"Yep."
"Damn."
"You have such a way with words."
The guards' fingers tightened on the crossbow triggers.
"Now!"
Expecting a sudden attack, the guards let fly with their arrows directly towards the center of the circle. The two thieves, however, were no longer there; they had hit the dirt, rolling towards the circle's edges. Four guards went down, struck by their own crossbow bolts.
Autolycus jumped up again before the remaining bewildered guards could reload and punched two of them in the face, then snatched their crossbows away as they reeled back, dazed. "These are the guards the Conqueror sent after us? I'm insulted."
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Iolaus was doing the same. "I don't think she's trying very hard," he agreed. The fifth guard still standing lunged at him, and he kicked his attacker in the gut. Autolycus winced in sympathy.
Another cheer went up from the assembled citizens of Corinth, who had finally gotten their fight.
The five remaining guards straightened and began to advance. They were all unarmed now, which would theoretically even the odds somewhat, if only all five of them hadn't been built like Mount Etna. Between them they made up a mountain range. And the volcanos were about to blow.
Autolycus and Iolaus backed away, taking up defensive stances. "First chance you get," Autolycus said under his breath, "run for it."
"Aw, come on," Iolaus said, just as quietly. "This could be fun."
"If that's your idea of fun--" He broke off. "All right, you stay and play. I'm getting out of here."
One of the guards grinned, showing off crooked, rotting teeth. "You're dead," he snarled.
Iolaus wrinkled his nose. "What, you're gonna kill us with bad breath?"
The guards attacked, and the fight began in earnest. The spectators stood around and did what they did best.
One particularly pissed-off guard launched a hook punch right at Autolycus's face; he sidestepped it and smashed his own fist into the base of the idiot's skull, and the guard hit the ground with a satisfying thud.
Caught up in the moment, he yelled, "See that? I'm a lover and a fighter!"
He thought he saw Iolaus roll his eyes, and shot a triumphant grin in the blond thief's direction. Then a fist slammed into his stomach, doubling him over and dragging his attention back to the fight.
Eventually he made his way out of the circle of guards, to the raucous cheers of the surrounding crowd. Autolycus turned to run, then hesitated and glanced back over his shoulder.
Iolaus had been holding his own, better than Autolycus even; Autolycus, after all, made a point of running away from fights whenever he could. Of course, some things couldn't be avoided, but he certainly didn't enjoy fighting, whereas Iolaus seemed almost to relish the chance to break some noses. He was certainly throwing himself wholeheartedly into this particular fight.
Or had been, until some bright guard had wrapped his arms around Iolaus's chest and, taking advantage of his lack of height, lifted him up into the air. Iolaus was taking the opportunity to deliver a few stunning blows to the other men's chests, but, much as he struggled, his captor's grip showed no signs of weakening.
"What would he do without me," Autolycus muttered, scooping up a handy wooden board from the street that had broken off the side of a wagon at some point and striding back into the fray. Another guard tried to intercept him, but he jabbed the end of the board into the man's stomach and went on without a backwards glance. The others, luckily, were too preoccupied with subduing Iolaus to notice his approach.
He tapped Iolaus's main assailant on the shoulder. The guard turned, still clutching his furiously fighting bundle. Autolycus ducked a particularly well-aimed kick and popped back up with a cocky grin. "Hi."
"You," the guard growled.
"Me," Autolycus agreed, and slammed the board as hard as he could into the side of the guard's head.
The mountain of a man buckled like a belt. He dropped Iolaus as he toppled backwards, eyes already closing as he lapsed into unconsciousness, and Iolaus hit the ground like a sack of bricks, with a sound effect to match.
Autolycus dropped the board and stepped back. The other guards looked positively homicidal.
Iolaus rolled over, groaning. "What, playtime's over?"
Autolycus leaned down and grabbed his cloak, hauling him to his feet. "Just shut up and run."
They did. Predictably, as soon as the still-conscious guards caught their collective breaths, they followed.
The thieves pounded through the streets; Autolycus expected to lose their pursuers before too long, but to his dismay they actually seemed to be gaining. Apparently this particular branch of law enforcement had been chosen not only for their size but also for their long-distance running abilities. He felt like his lungs were about to pop out of his chest and make a break for it all on their own, but he kept going. At least he could still run.
Of course, the problem with looking on the bright side was that it wasn't always that bright.
"So does this make you a lover and a runner?" Iolaus puffed, coming up behind him.
Autolycus opened his mouth to make a scathing retort but ended up gulping air instead. He contented himself with a glare and pushed on.
"Got any idea where we're running to?" Iolaus panted.
This time Autolycus managed to gasp, "Away."
"Works for me." Iolaus dug his heels in and started running faster.
Autolycus whimpered.
Iolaus made a sudden sharp turn into a side alley. With no other ideas and the guards hot on his heels, Autolycus followed.
"They came in here, I swear!"
Zelus glowered at his fellow guard. Going after two thieves, that was grunt work. It was usually just a case of find, punch, and drag back to the dungeons. In such instances, stupidity was not necessarily a detriment. Incompetence was slightly more of a problem. And for Zelus, whininess was simply intolerable.
Unfortunately, Tityus embodied all three.
The man in question was currently spinning around in circles, demanding backup from his fellow guards. "You saw it? You saw it, right? They came in here, right?"
The other guards, out of breath and doubled over from their exertions, just glared at him.
Zelus looked around. The alley was an opening between two old stone houses, long deserted, dead-ending at a rotted wooden fence. Nobody lived nearby, and nobody in their right mind would want to; it was used primarily as a garbage dump. Piles of decaying vegetables and other human waste towered high above them, clinging to the crumbling stone walls.
"I don't see anyone," he said sharply. "You been drinking again? I told you last time, I don't care what you do on your own time, but when you're on the job--"
"They came in here!" Tityus yelped.
Zelus rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah, and I bet then they just vanished into thin air. Just like the guy did before."
Tityus brightened. "Hey, yeah! Maybe he, like, it's his secret trick or-- hey!"
A very skeptical Zelus had grabbed him by the wrist and was hauling him out of the alley. The other guards followed without comment. "Well, if they did, we're not gonna find them, now are we? Man, you're hopeless," Zelus grumbled. "I don't know why the Conqueror doesn't just put you out of your misery, it'd be like putting down a dog...."
His voice trailed off into the distance as he disappeared from sight.
Iolaus poked his head up. "I think they're gone."
Autolycus sat up beside him, wiping his face and spitting. "That was your plan? That's the most disgusting thing I've ever--" He paused. "Well, actually...."
"Ugh. I don't want to hear about it. It worked, didn't it?" Iolaus stood, brushing refuse off his clothes, then grabbed Autolycus's arm and yanked him to his feet, out of the piles of trash. "They couldn't see us, and nobody wanted to root around in the garbage dump to make sure."
"Yeah, it worked. And now I'm gonna smell like somebody's week-old fish for the rest of the day!"
"I hate to break it to you, Auto, but you don't usually smell like a rose garden anyway."
"Funny," Autolycus snapped. "Very funny."
"I thought so."
There was a pause.
"What were we fighting about, anyway?" Iolaus asked.
"I have no idea. You started it."
"Me? I'll have you know--" He stopped. "Oops. I'm doing it again, aren't I?"
"Yeah," Autolycus said. "You are."
They avoided each other's eyes.
"Listen," Autolycus said after a brief silence. "I gotta, uh... go, uh, take care of some stuff. I'll, um, meet you back at the room, right?"
"Right," Iolaus said quickly. "I've got some... things of my own. To do."
"Good. That's good. So I'll see you."
"Right."
Another pause.
"It was just fun," Iolaus said. "That's all."
"That's all it was."
"Nothing more."
"Right," Autolycus agreed, and then, realizing that he was standing in one place and talking about absolutely nothing, he shoved his hands in his pockets and turned and walked out of the alley without a backwards glance.
Iolaus stared after him for a while before he too left, lost in thought.
The bodies still hung from the crosses, and the crosses still lined the walkways. Some bodies had been taken down and others put up in their place, but it didn't really matter. With fresh corpses or rotting ones, the effect was still the same.
Iolaus kept his head down as he walked, fighting down the bile threatening to rise in his throat. He'd spent about five days in Corinth before being sent into hiding, but he still wasn't used to the sight. He didn't think he'd ever be.
He wondered, again, how it had all happened. More, how people had just let it happen. Whoever has the most swords, has the right, he thought darkly. It was certainly true in the Conqueror's case.
Then he shook his head, dismissing the thoughts as best he could. Now was not the time. That certainly wasn't the distraction he was looking for.
The gruesome row of crucifixions gradually gave way to modest wooden homes. Iolaus slowed as he neared one with straggly flowers in the yard and dresses hanging on the clothesline, giving it a speculative glance. Then he shook his head and moved on. Polydora was a nice girl, but "girl" was in fact the operative word; he didn't feel like passing the time with someone who thought of Orpheus as Molpus's dad. Or, for that matter, someone who thought of Xena the Conqueror as the rightful ruler of Greece and the rest of the known world.
He'd discarded the cloak once he'd left the center of town. It wasn't much of a disguise anymore; after the latest fiasco, the guards would be on the lookout for that particular article of clothing, if they hadn't been already. Aside from which, it stank. Anyone after his hide wouldn't have to be on the lookout for anything; they'd smell him coming.
Further down the road, he turned onto a small, wooden footpath, and then again on a dirt path leading up to another house. Iolaus brushed his hair back, straightened his vest, and strolled up the path to the thatched, overgrown house. An easy grin spread across his face as he knocked on the door.
It swung open after a few moments, revealing a woman with a wary expression on her face and a paintbrush in her hand. Dabs of paint were splattered over her face and her torn dress. She looked to be in her late thirties, with long dark hair piled on top of her head and lines starting to form around her eyes. Her face was sharp and alert; when she saw the man on her doorstep, she smiled wryly.
"Iolaus," she said. "Now this is a surprise. I didn't expect to see you back here quite so soon."
His grin grew wider. "And whyever not?"
"Oh, don't get me wrong, it's a pleasant surprise. You just didn't strike me as the type for repeat visits."
"See? Even an omniscient artist can be wrong sometimes." Iolaus cocked his head to the side, squinting in the sunlight. "So, am I allowed to come in? I wouldn't want to mess up your spic-and-span house."
She rolled her eyes and stepped back. "Yes, that's right, make fun of my housekeeping skills. I'll tell you something, before anything happens, you, sir, are taking a bath. What were you doing, rolling around in it?"
"As a matter of fact," Iolaus said, sauntering inside, "that's exactly what happened. How handy are you with a pair of scissors? And a needle and thread?"
It was definitely a bad idea.
Only a few hours before pulling off what was probably the riskiest job of his life, or at least in the past year, a job that was quite literally a matter of life or death, and Autolycus was well on his way to becoming drunk.
Well, he had to give himself credit for sheer stupidity, at least. Or wouldn't it be the other way around? Wouldn't he have to take credit away? He supposed it depended on the type of credit in question. If it was bad credit, well, then, that would just be perfectly appropriate, wouldn't it? After all, who heard of a thief who paid off his credit?
"An' I'm th'King," he mumbled.
He was definitely on his way to the Land of the Truly Tanked.
In fact, he decided a moment later, fumbling for his mug and squinting to try and get the damned thing to stay in one place, he could even see it from here, if he just... looked down at where he was standing. Or, rather, sitting. And if he managed not to fall flat on his face in the process. No maybes about it; Autolycus was trashed.
And he wasn't even sure why. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but then, it always did. Something about Iolaus, he knew that. The little bastard. He knew they never should have gotten involved.
That was the problem, really. Sex was great, one of the best things ever invented, in fact, and the buildup was part of the fun, and there'd certainly been plenty of that. It was just all the stuff that went with it that complicated things. That was when things got disturbing, and when the King of Thieves tended to turn and run the other way.
That was when... a barmaid slid onto the stool next to him, propping her chin up on her fist and giving him a wide-eyed stare.
Hello! Autolycus thought, straightening automatically. The fog in his brain seemed to clear a bit, and he gave her his most charming smile.
"And what's a nice young lady like yourself doing here at this hour?" he inquired, his voice hardly slurred at all.
The barmaid giggled. "What, does that line ever work?"
"It serves its purpose," Autolycus said, "which is to make you laugh, breaking the conversational ice, so to speak, so we can move on to greater, far more interesting things. Which, as you may have noticed, we have."
The girl managed to look both doubtful and playful at the same time. "Well, we've broken the ice, anyway," she allowed. "I'm not too sure about the rest yet."
He waved his hand in a flourish that would ordinarily have accompanied a bow, if he'd thought he could manage one without toppling over. "In that case, I am in your service, my dear. Do with me what you will."
She eyed him for a few moments, her face shining; then, as though on sudden impulse, she scooted in close, lowering her voice. "Just so you know," she murmured, "no one here'd dream of turning you in. We all think it's just great you got away from that bitch. You and the cute blond guy both-- what's his name again?"
"Hyacinthus," Autolycus muttered, his face darkening, before he remembered that he was trying to forget all about the cute blond guy. Him and the cute blond guy both.
After all, Thamyris couldn't do it, and look what'd happened to him. Stripped of his craft and hung out to dry.
The barmaid frowned prettily. "Are you sure? That doesn't sound right. I'd swear it was something else...."
He dismissed the matter with another wave of his hand. "Never mind that. He's not here right now, is he? So why don't you and I just...." He lowered his eyelids and met her (deceptively, he was sure) ingenuous gaze with a heated, penetrating stare.
"Talk? Sure, we could talk." She moved even closer, settling her hand on his thigh. "I'd love to talk with someone like you. I don't think any of the other girls here could beat what we'd... talk about. I think I'd feel quite honored to... talk."
Yeah, you and every woman from here to Naxos, Autolycus thought. And not a small number of men, either. But all he said was, "Now that sounds like...."
He trailed off, eyes narrowing, as he looked at her-- really looked at her-- for the first time. She was short but not slight; her perpetually wide eyes were a bright, clear blue; her hair was blond and curly, falling around her shoulders and catching the light just so, and she had a smile that could light up an entire room....
"A really good idea, but unfortunately, I just remembered I have an appointment to keep," he finished smoothly, rising with a reasonable facsimile of his usual grace. "Business things, you know how it is, so if you'll excuse me, I'll just be off...."
And with that, Autolycus hurried out of the tavern, his shoulders hunched and his hands shoved in his pockets, feeling the barmaid's bewildered gaze on his back all the way out the door.
Tartarus take you, Iolaus, he thought, now you're ruining my casual sexual encounters with other people. I hope you're fucking happy.
At that, he almost turned right back around and collected the bemused barmaid, just to spite his-- admittedly unwitting-- antagonist, but he didn't. To be purely practical, he couldn't make love to a barmaid when he kept seeing the face of another thief. That was just... far too disturbing on so many levels, he couldn't even begin to count.
Being so resolved, Autolycus trudged on back towards the inn.
The room, as it turned out, was occupied when he arrived.
Not by guards, which was his first thought when he saw movement through the window, but by the only other person who really belonged there in the first place: Iolaus.
Autolycus gripped the window ledge and swung himself up, over and in, pulling the curtain aside and dropping gracefully to the floor. Then he looked up-- and straight down the blade of a knife.
He took a moment to recover from the shock; then he reached out and pushed the knife aside.
"A little paranoid, are we?" he asked sarcastically.
Iolaus returned his scowl. "We have a reason to be paranoid, remember?" he retorted, tucking the knife back in his belt.
"Oh," Autolycus said. "Yeah. Point."
His partner sniffed, then made a face. "You're not drunk, are you?"
Yes. "No," he said, "it just so happens I'm--" He broke off, staring at the other thief. Iolaus's hair was rumpled, his eyes were bright, and-- most telling of all-- he smelled like... well, he certainly didn't smell like week-old fish.
Autolycus narrowed his eyes. "You!" he accused, conveniently forgetting his own near miss with the girl at the tavern. "We're being chased by guards and our faces are plastered on every flat surface in town, and you decide you've got time for a quickie?"
Iolaus looked puzzled. "What are you talking about? They haven't put wanted posters up yet."
"Well, they might as well have! It's not like everyone doesn't know us by now anyway! I'll have you know that--" He stopped again, squinting; then his eyes went wide in alarm. "What in Tartarus did you do to your hair?"
It wasn't just rumpled in a moment of wild abandon, he saw that now. It was... short.
Autolycus moved forward, his hand outstretched, reaching for the offending locks. Iolaus took a hasty step back, wrinkling his nose. "Are you sure you're not drunk?"
No. "Yes," he said, with great dignity. "Don't change the sh-- subject. And what is with that gods-awful purple vest? What happened to you, anyway? You look like--" Then the light dawned. "Oh," he said. "You look like the other you."
Iolaus self-consciously touched the ends of his hair, dropping down onto the bed. It wasn't all that short-- it still fell at least to his chin-- but the effect was still startling. It made him seem older, somehow. "Yeah. I kind of had an idea. One that's a little better than duck-and-run."
"Well, I'd love to hear it," Autolycus said, "if there wasn't something a little more important to talk about first."
"More important than--"
"Yes, yes, yes, don't spell it out for me, because I'm sick of hearing about it and it very well may be beside the point. Or if it's not, by now I just don't give a damn."
Autolycus hesitated, trying to make sense of what he'd just said, and Iolaus said, "Are you sure--"
"Yes. Now shut the fuck up. Look, I've been thinking about this."
"So have I," Iolaus blurted out, jumping to his feet, "and I think we--"
"I think we should steal something."
"--need to--" Iolaus broke off in mid-sentence and snapped his mouth shut. He opened it again a couple of times, then said, "Okay, um, we're already stealing something, remember? Old, cranky, devious priest of Hermes, the one with the equally cranky daughter--"
Autolycus waved his hands. "No, no, I mean before that. Right now. And not a person, a thing."
Iolaus crossed his arms. "You are drunk."
Yes. "I am not," Autolycus snapped. "I am merely fortified--"
"Yeah, if by 'fortified' you mean preserved. Face it, you're completely sloshed. I can see the alcohol condensing around your face!"
It was his turn to collapse on the bed. "Maybe. Maybe just the smallest bit. But it's still a good idea."
"Not only drunk, but crazed--"
"No, listen. Like you said, we both need to know how the other works. And I may know how you fuck, and very well I might add, but I don't know how you steal, and I think that's something we ought to know, 'cause, you know, we need all the help we can get."
Iolaus still looked doubtful. "What did you have in mind?"
"I still do have it in mind." Autolycus gestured grandly. "The Athens Travelling Museum is in town, and they close in a little over an hour. So what, you ask? Well, they just so happen to be the proud possessors, albeit not for very much longer, of the largest ruby this side of the Carpathians. So are you in or am I in... er, in with me--" He fumbled a bit before coming up with the correct phrase. "In this alone?"
"You're drunk," Iolaus said again. Like he hadn't driven the point home already. Autolycus was starting to get the tiniest bit annoyed.
"Mildly, mildly," he snapped. "And you, my diminuitive friend, have spent the last couple hours having sex, but did I mention it? Noooo."
"Yes," Iolaus said, "actually, you did. What does that have to do with anything?"
"Ah," Autolycus countered, "but I wasn't going to."
"You already did, I mean. Before."
"Before what?"
Iolaus sighed. "Forget it."
"Gladly," Autolycus said. "So?"
"'So'? What 'so'?"
"Don't make me ask again. I'll never get it right this time."
"Oh, that."
"Yeah. That."
"You're fucking drunk," Iolaus snapped. "You can barely lace up your own boots, much less break into the Athens Travelling Museum--"
"Shows what you know," Autolycus said. "I've pulled some of my best jobs while halfway to Elysia."
Iolaus hesitated, mouth open. Autolycus pressed, "Do I or do I not have a point? It's all about the technique. Seeing me-- you-- in action...."
He trailed off, and Iolaus sighed again. "You do have a point. I'm just saying that--"
Autolycus brightened. "You're in? I knew you'd be in."
"I," Iolaus said, "am not in. I am beginning to wade in. I'm vaguely in. I'm in with serious reservations."
"You don't need 'em. It's not an official event. Far as I know, we're the only ones that thought of it."
"That's not what I meant."
"It isn't?"
"No."
"What did you mean?"
"You know, it's the damnedest thing. I haven't the faintest idea."
"Oh," Autolycus said. "Good." He stared up at Iolaus, for a brief moment certain that he was just going to take one last step forward and lean over, and--
And then Iolaus shook his head and asked, "Are you always like this when you're drunk?"
"No," Autolycus said, standing, "sometimes I'm passed out. Let's go, shall we? Places to go, things to steal, and all that sort."
He walked over to the window and jumped out. Grumbling to himself, Iolaus followed.
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