The Gatehouse was a large sprawling stone building, standing solidly in the pass between Corinth and it's neighbouring lands. Its towers spiked towards the pewter grey snow filled skies like triumphant spears along a dragon's back, giving the building something of the appearance of a crouched and brooding beast. Its walls of black and blood red stone created a dark splash of colour against the grey walls of the mountain pass. No one could remember how long ago it had been built or by who or who had decided to turn it into a hostelry for travellers, but it had withstood weather, siege and war and had come to be regarded as neutral ground for the surrounding territories. Numerous peace treaties had been signed within its thick stone walls and an almost equal number of wars had been declared.

 As afternoon gathered into early evening, the building seemed to hunch down within the path, setting its stony face into the buffeting snow filled winds and approaching blizzard. In the taproom, the fires had been lit in the hearth and the cressets filled with oil or torches according to their function. Swags of greenery brought up from the valley decorated the room amid the colourful banners of the delegates and wafts of scent drifted from the kitchen every time the doors opened, filling the quiet empty room with the scent of roasting meats and thick rich stews. Outside the wind redoubled its efforts to get in, shrieking in frustration as it rattled the shutters and tore at the doors with invisible fingers.

Behind the counter, Pastius the innkeeper, rearranged the tankards for the umpteenth time and ignored the storm force winds, used to the temperamental weather. He looked around the room in satisfaction, once more checking that nothing was out of place. It had been a long time since peace negotiations had been held at the Gatehouse and it was the first time he had hosted so many important guests all at the same time. He had the Gatehouse's reputation to uphold and he was determined that everything would go well. Knowing how finicky some of the nobles could be he wanted to give them nothing to complain about.

The main door suddenly rattled violently on its hinges, shuddering as if something was pounding on it from outside. Pastius froze, staring at it in alarm. There were creatures in these mountains that sometimes roamed around the walls of the Gatehouse, leaving huge scars in the stone as they sought to get in and reach the tasty human morsels inside.  So far the ancient wards that protected the building had stood firm, but there was always a first time…

The door rattled again and was suddenly flung open crashing back against the wall as the blizzard swept gleefully inside with a torrent of snow and wind. No monster stood revealed however, but two figures clinging together in the teeth of the wind; their cloaks plastered against them by the force of the storm. The taller of the two was holding the other against his side and was carrying a couple of bags over one broad shoulder. "I need some help here!" he urged.

Pastius recovered quickly from his shock as soon as he realised it was no monster intruding on him, but guests. He emerged quickly from behind the counter, a big man shaped like a wedge with kind brown eyes. "Come in then and close the door," he urged.

The taller of the two dropped the bags and reached out to grab the door, releasing his smaller companion so he could force it shut against the wind. The smaller one swayed and sank floorwards. Pastius moved instinctively, long experience making him hurry forward to grab the man and sweep him back to his feet, hustling him towards the fireplace as he bellowed for assistance.

"Here, sit here now," he urged, settling the man onto the stone seat in the inglenook by the roaring fire. Unfocused blue eyes in a young but too pale face blinked at him from under the edge of the fur lined hood from which escaped a tangle of wet blond hair. "You've been out in the cold too long," Pastius scolded as he attempted to unwrap the sopping wet cloak from around him. "You need to get warm and dry…" He glanced up at the taller man as he loomed over them, swaying unsteadily. He looked no older than his companion did, also blue eyed but with strands of snow damp brown hair rather than blond plastered around a strong boned face. "You too…Sit down and get warm." Pastius waved him to a seat on the other side of the fire and then looked round for assistance as the young man slumped wearily onto the indicated seat. 

"Pastius?" one of the servants appeared in the kitchen doorway.

"Bring the hot blankets and some stew for our guests," the innkeeper ordered briskly.

The servant nodded and disappeared again and Pastius turned back to his guests. "What brings you up here, travellers?" he asked carefully. Although their cloaks were of good cloth and lined with fur, neither young man struck Pastius as the rich type somehow. He directed his questions to the brown haired young man, suspecting that he was unlikely to get an answer from the blond until he had thawed out.

"The negotiations," the taller man answered. "I'm Hercules. That's Iolaus." Hercules leaned forward, hugging his cloak around him as he peered anxiously at his friend.  "Iolaus? Talk to me…"

"Where's your carriage?" Pastius worried, thinking they might have left horses outside. Obviously they were nobles if they had come for the negotiations.

"What carriage?" Hercules gave him a blank look. "We walked…"

"Walked?" Pastius echoed in astonishment. No one walked through the pass if they could help it. "In this weather?"

"It wasn't like this when we started out," Hercules mumbled lamely. He stretched out one hand to Iolaus, shaking his knee. "Iolaus?" There was no response; Iolaus merely stayed huddled unresponsively into the snow-smothered cloak Pastius was doing his best to peel him out of.

Pastius hesitated. He knew he should ask for their identification. He was supposed to turn away strangers during the negotiations, but he could hardly turn anyone away in this weather without killing them.  He put the thought to one side as his two servants hurried out with armfuls of fire warmed blankets.

"He's not even shivering," Hercules worried.

"And you're surprised? Take off that wet cloak. Are your clothes dry? No? Well, strip off and wrap yourself in the blankets…" Pastius busied himself stripping the cloak off Iolaus and tugging at the wet tunic underneath.  First things first, he would take care of his guests and make sure they didn't freeze. Then he would worry about whether who they were.

                                                            * * *

For Hercules the next few minutes passed in a blur of bustle as the innkeeper hustled them into a side room and saw to it that both he and Iolaus were stripped and dried and wrapped in heated wool blankets for warmth. With a mug of spiced ale in one hand, Hercules sat as close to Iolaus as he could get under the blankets, sharing his own body warmth with his friend and keeping him between him and the blazing fire in the hearth. He rarely felt the cold and for him to have the shivers was exceptional. So exceptional that it made him seriously worried about how Iolaus was feeling.

"So, how long do you think the snow will keep up?" he asked aloud, hoping to spark the hunter into making some kind of response.

"No telling," the servant watching them, replied as he stoked the fire even higher. "The stew should be ready soon. Shall I fetch you some?"

"That would be good, yes, please," Hercules said gratefully. The walk would have made him hungry even if the cold hadn't. He turned his attention to Iolaus as the servant bustled out. "Iolaus? How about you? Are you hungry?"

There was no response, only a slow confused blink as Iolaus looked at him as if he wasn't there.

"Ah hah!" the cry came from the doorway as a slender young man with copper brown shoulder length hair bounded into the room. "It is you! Pastius said there were new arrivals!"

"Aethalides!" Hercules greeted his fellow ex Argonaut with genuine pleasure. He half rose to his feet then settled back as he remembered Iolaus, reluctant to leave him.

 "Hi, Hercules," the herald said cheerfully as he padded over and leaned down to peer into Iolaus' face. "What have you been doing to Iolaus?"

"We walked up but it turned out to be colder than we expected."

"Why didn't you get the coach?" Aethalides puzzled, taking Iolaus' wrist in slim fingers and checking his pulse in concern. 

Hercules gritted his teeth. He had a feeling he was going to get fed up with people asking him that question. "We missed it," he said curtly.

"But there's two a day, you should have waited…." The herald paused warily under Hercules' glower. "Didn't anyone tell you that?"

"No, strangely enough, they didn't. Why do you think we walked?"

"Stupidity…" Iolaus mumbled groggily. "Sheer damn stupidity…"

"Iolaus, you’re back!" Hercules sighed in relief and hugged him tight to his side, earning himself an elbow in the ribs.

Iolaus peered up at him, his expression bewildered. "How'd we get here?"

"We walked…"

"Why?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," Hercules sighed, glancing at Aethalides. "They told us there wouldn't be another carriage and we didn't want to miss the negotiations."

"You," Iolaus corrected. "It was definitely you - I think. I'm sure I said let's wait."

"They still said there wouldn't be another carriage," Hercules said sulkily.

"They lied," Iolaus pointed out, his eyes glazed with confusion. "I said they were lying to delay us. At least I think I did…." 

"Well, they failed then, didn't they," Hercules retorted smugly.

Iolaus gave him a puzzled frown and then turned his head away to peer up at Aethalides. Hercules watched him anxiously, surreptitiously tugging the blankets back around him. "Hey, hi…Aethalides?"

"Hi, Iolaus," Aethalides grinned at him. "You look like you should be tucked up in a nice warm bed."

"Um, that is you, is it? Not…?" Iolaus said warily.

"Yeah, it's me. You look half frozen."

"Oh…" Iolaus' frown deepened and he gave the mug Hercules pushed into his hand a puzzled look. "What….?"

"Don't ask. It's hot. Drink," Hercules urged anxiously, tucking the blanket more firmly around him. Iolaus half lifted one shoulder in a shrug then sipped the spiced ale, taking a larger swallow as the taste and heat got through to him.

The door was pushed open again, this time by Pastius holding it back for his servant with a tray of steaming stew bowls. "Ah, herald, would you care for some supper?" he said politely.

"I’d appreciate that, thank you. I'll join my friends here if you don't mind."

"Of course not, sir," Pastius assured him, glancing at Hercules and Iolaus. "I'm glad to see you awake, sir." Iolaus nodded to him vaguely, more interested in his ale than anything else. "Might I ask if you were expected?" Pastius went on cautiously. Since Aethalides seemed to know them and the herald was an invited guest, he felt on safer ground asking the strangers now.

"Oh, yeah, I didn't introduce us properly, did I?" Hercules mumbled, fishing under the blankets for Iolaus' free hand and holding it up to show his heavy gold ring with the ram seal on it. "We represent King Jason of Corinth," he explained.

"Ah, I see. My apologies then for not greeting you more formally." Pastius shot a chagrined look at the bowls as the servant put them on the table. If he had known the two young men were the Corinthian ambassadors he would have put out the best china instead of his travellers' ware. And this bedraggled young man was Hercules who he had heard so many tales about? Where was his famous lion skin?

"When you're half frozen, polite greetings don't matter much," Hercules replied amiably.  "You've been very kind."

"My pleasure, sirs. If you'll excuse me, I’ll go and make sure your rooms are ready," Pastius told him, nodding politely to Aethalides. "I'll have your meal sent in, herald."

Aethalides watched the innkeeper and his servant leave and then turned back to Hercules. "Did they really say there was no more carriages?" he asked uneasily.

Hercules nodded, shifting away from Iolaus to reach for the stew. He was starving. "I wouldn't have walked unless they had," he said firmly, ignoring Iolaus' under his breath muttering. He handed one of the bowls to his partner as Iolaus finished his ale and accepted the food in its place happily. The hunter still didn't seem quite focused, but his colour was improving gradually.

Aethalides started to pace the room, his hands folded behind his back. He was wearing a stylish deep blue himation fastened with a gold brooch over his black leather breeches and tunic and the soft cloth fluttered as he stalked up and down.

Hercules watched him uncertainly, in between devouring his stew and keeping one eye on Iolaus to check he was doing the same. Iolaus was eating slowly as if he wasn't quite sure why he was doing it and seemed half-asleep, but every bite was warmth he needed. "What's the matter?" the demi-god asked around a mouthful of shredded lamb and vegetables.

"Someone is out to ruin the negotiations," Aethalides told him gloomily.

"One act of malice doesn't mean anything," Hercules argued.

The herald paused and bit his lower lip. "Tell me, if it had been anyone except you deciding to walk, would they have made it?"

Hercules flicked a quick look at Iolaus and flushed in chagrin. "Well…" he began slowly.

Iolaus didn't even bother to look up. "No one else would have been that stupid," he snorted. "Most people would have listened to the weather warnings and stayed put."

Aethalides' worried expression lifted a little as his mouth quirked into a rueful smile. "I see you’re still arguing," he teased.

Iolaus shot a look at him from under his fringe. "That's because I'm still right and he's still wrong."

Hercules sighed heavily and rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. "I'm sure it's only a misunderstanding," he told the Herald.

"I'm not," Aethalides' smile faded quickly. "There have been too many delays, too many obstacles getting in the way. Someone doesn't want these talks to take place. If I hadn't sent back up messages to the kings, Ethica wouldn't be represented. Their first confirmation never arrived and the Ethicans are really touchy about protocol."

"Messages do go astray," Hercules pointed out.

"Someone murdered the messenger," Aethalides said grimly then shut up as Pastius returned with a tray of delicate cups, his best wine and more stew - this time in a fancy bowl - all on a silver tray.

"The rooms are ready, sirs, and I have had your…luggage taken up for you," he announced politely as he set the tray down. "And if I may take the liberty of suggesting it, the baths are hot if you should wish to bathe after your…walk."

Hercules resisted the impulse to grin. Pastius was obviously having difficulties reconciling their positions with their looks.

"Sounds great," Iolaus murmured, setting down his empty stew bowl and pushing to his feet. "Lead me to it."

"Are you sure?" Hercules said quickly.

"Yeah. Why not? I'm cold and a hot bath sounds good after being dragged up that blasted mountain by someone whose name I won't mention."

Hercules glared at him, well aware of Aethalides' grin being hastily wiped away when he turned a scowl on him. "I'll see you upstairs then," he decided. "Don't stay in the water too long, you'll shrink."

"Oh ha ha," Iolaus snorted and turned his blue eyes on the innkeeper. "Ignore my friend. He has this strange idea he has a sense of humour. So, where's this bath?"

"This way, sir."

Hercules watched Iolaus follow the innkeeper out and then turned back to Aethalides. "Murdered? By who?" he demanded, returning to the subject.

Aethalides shrugged and sat down to sample his stew. "He was ambushed on the road, apparently by robbers. But all he had on him was the scroll and a few coins. He was a herald for crying out loud! No one robs a herald!"

Hercules held his tongue on that. Being a herald or a bard was not the absolute guarantee of safety that some people would like to think. "Even so…" he said slowly.

"I'm not a fool," Aethalides said sharply. "I'm not saying it never happens. But twice?"

"Twice?"

"A messenger returning to Corinth from Parthia with a reply was also set upon and murdered. Fortunately, Parthia sent a second message with details of who would be attending."

"Jason never mentioned this to us," Hercules observed darkly.

"It's only been recent," Aethalides explained. "Considering how much you and Iolaus move around, I wouldn't be surprised if they're still out looking for you."

"What about the other delegates?"

"Most of them arrived without any trouble," Aethalides admitted gratefully. "The Ethicans aren't here yet. Assuming they didn't change their minds and stay away they should be here soon. They should be coming up the other side of the pass. You and Iolaus are the last to arrive from this side of the mountain."

"It does sound a little suspicious," Hercules admitted slowly.

"A little suspicious?"

"There's no point jumping to conclusions. It could be coincidence."

"Or enemy action," Aethalides grumbled. "I promised Jason I’d keep this gathering peaceful and do my best to make a success of it. He's tired of the skirmishes along our borders. The last thing he wants to do is have to send out the army to deal with it, but if these negotiations don’t show at least some sign of improvement, then he's going to have no choice but to do exactly that. You've been there, Hercules, you know what his advisors are like. They’re pushing for an open show of force."

"I know," Hercules sighed ruefully. There was nothing like the Corinthian nobility for seeing insults in every shadow. It would be a matter of pride to them to stop the border raids, even if it meant declaring war on every surrounding city-state from Corinth to Athens. "But what makes Jason think Iolaus and I can make a difference?"

Aethalides smiled faintly. "You're both pretty good at supporting the cause of peace. Jason hopes between the three of us, we can persuade the others to see reason." He paused, looking up Hercules thoughtfully. "You do want to make peace, don't you?"

"You have to ask?" Hercules snorted.

Aethalides grinned, obviously starting to feel better now that he had the companionship and support of his friends. "Having three Argonauts here to support Jason makes for an impressive show," he said brightly. "Hopefully your presence will help stop any trouble before it starts. I'm sure that between us we can get them all to sit down and at least talk about it. I thought we could start with discussing trade agreements."

"We might be better off finding out what started the border raids," Hercules argued cautiously.

"Largely trade disagreements," Aethalides said swiftly. "I brought all the information we've gathered for you. I thought you might like to read up on it before the talks start tomorrow."

"That sounds like fun," Hercules muttered gloomily.

"Sorry?" Aethalides grinned innocently.

"No you’re not," the demi-god grumbled, reaching for the wine. "When do we meet the other delegates?"

"Well, when the Ethicans arrive, we'll have a little cocktail party in the banquet room."

"This place has a banquet room?" 

"You’d be amazed how big the Gatehouse is," Aethalides told him, settling back to sip his wine. "There's a whole warren of rooms, secret passages and corridors. Parts of it are so old no one remembers when they were built."

"Sounds like somewhere you can get lost easily."

"According to Pastius people have gotten lost here in the past. It's even supposed to be haunted…"

"What a surprise."

"You know, Hercules, you’re starting to sound a little bit tetchy."

The demi-god looked at him irritably over the top of his goblet. "Gosh, really? I can't think why."

"Walking up a mountain in a blizzard maybe and nearly getting your bits frozen off?"

 "That'd do it, yeah." Hercules grimaced. "Especially with Iolaus complaining every step of the way."

"You have to admit he had good reason to," Aethalides pointed out dryly.

"Which is why I didn't pound him into a paste. I am really going to have to go some to make it up to him." Hercules shook his head and smiled ruefully. "One little mistake and you pay and you pay and you pay…"

A polite but brisk rap at the door announced Pastius' arrival. He pushed the door open as Aethalides hailed him and stepped inside, bowing to the herald. "Forgive the intrusion, herald, but the Ethicans have arrived."

"At last!" Aethalides pushed eagerly to his feet. "What kind of mood are they in?"

"Far be it from me to offer an opinion, sir."

"That good, huh? Come on, Hercules, I think I need back up."

                                                            * * *

Hercules' first impression when they entered the main taproom was that a flock of birds had exploded. All he could see was a dazzling display of colour; not all of which matched or that he would have described as fashionable. Not that he knew much about fashion, but he could tell the difference between style and, well, whatever the Ethicans had. Tunics and breeches of blues and reds and greens, of purples, greys and black with an overlay of gold thread and sparkly bits. Jewellery glittered from every ear and neck and finger and feathers bobbed all over the place from weirdly wrapped silk hats. 

Aethalides inhaled sharply, his own stylishly refined senses somewhat taken aback by the lavish display of costly cut and fabric. Then he rallied and forged forward, aiming for the tall supercilious man in the centre of the crowd. "My Lord Orides, I presume?"

"By Zeus, you presume correctly," the Ethican replied, fluttering a brightly coloured blue and green feathered fan in front of his face. "This is Ambassador Neman." He inclined his head to a slightly older man who was somewhat less lavishly dressed that Orides himself. Neman bowed slightly and said nothing, his dark hooded eyes oddly sleepy. "And you are?" Orides continued.

"Aethalides, my Lord. I have the honour of being King Jason's host. This is Hercules of Thebes." Aethalides beckoned Hercules forward urgently and the demi-god came somewhat sheepishly to his side. There weren't as many of the Ethicans as he had thought at first. Only two servants apart from Lord Orides and Ambassador Neman themselves.

Orides extended a hand to Hercules that was weighed down by costly rings. The demi-god took it and shook it cautiously, uncertain whether or not he was supposed to kiss it or not. The noble looked him slowly up and down as he drew his hand free of his grip. He didn't seem to be impressed. "Hercules? I seem to have heard that name before somewhere…" 

"Hercules represents King Jason along with Iolaus of Thebes," Aethalides said quickly.

"Something to do with boats me thinks…" Orides mused.

"I was an Argonaut," Hercules explained easily. 

"Ah, I see….That explains why a Theban is here."

Hercules gritted his teeth as the man's tone rubbed his nerves the wrong way and silently made a bet with himself how long he would be able to resist the urge to punch him out. Orides implied not only favouritism but insulted Thebes too.

The noble turned away before he could say anything however, looking for Pastius as he hovered in the background. "Ah, there you are. Your finest suite my good man." 

Hercules rolled his eyes at Aethalides at being abruptly ignored and sipped the wine he had brought with him.

"I have the Acanthus Suite already prepared," Pastius assured him.

"The Acanthus Suite? Oh no, that really won't do," Orides exclaimed. "I want the best. The Olympian Suite naturally."

"I'm afraid that isn't possible, sir," Pastius answered apologetically. "It is already occupied."

"Occupied? Nonsense! You will have to tell whoever is in there to move immediately."

Pastius shot an anxious look at Aethalides then seemed to pull himself together and drew himself up to his full impressive height; his obsequious manner fading. "I'm afraid that is impossible, my Lord. I'm sure you will be quite comfortable in the Acanthus Suite. It's been recently redecorated and is the very best of rooms."

Orides was flushing furiously. "This is intolerable. I demand…"

"I am very sorry, my lord," Pastius dared to interrupt him.

"I expect the best. My rank…"

"I appreciate your rank, my lord. But on this occasion you are out ranked."

"By who?" Orides very nearly screeched.

"Hercules and Iolaus, my lord."  Hercules nearly choked on his wine. Aethalides hid a smirk behind one hand and Pastius continued smoothly while Orides was still spluttering in shock. "One of the traditions of the Gatehouse is that the Olympian Suite can only be occupied by any visiting heroes. It is in fact a royal command that has not been broken since the house was built. I would not dare to defy the custom, my lord."

"Orides, be reasonable," Neman said quietly. "We are I believe the last to arrive thanks to the blizzard."

"Merely fashionable late…" Orides sniffed, closing his fan with a snap.

"And an excellent suite has been reserved for us. It would be churlish to force others to stand aside. And we would not want to insult anyone, now would we?"

Orides gave him a slow, disdainful look and sniffed again. "Very well, so be it. We shall accept your offer, innkeeper.  Let us see this suite of yours."

"If you would be so kind as to come this way then, sirs." Pastius bowed lavishly to them and led the way from the main room. Orides stalked after him after a disapproving look at Hercules and Aethalides.

"My apologies," Neman murmured, bowing to the ex Argonauts. "It has been a long trip and we are both tired."

"Neman! Don't dawdle, man!" Orides called impatiently. 

"Coming, Orides," Neman answered with a rueful smile and hurried after him. The servants followed, staggering under a coachload of luggage. As the last of them disappeared into the depths of the house, Iolaus trotted in. Newly washed and with his hair still curling damply from his hot bath, he looked a lot warmer and happier.

"So, who blew up the mosaic makers?" he asked cheerfully, inclining his head after the new arrivals.

"Those are the Ethicans," Aethalides told him.

"And apparently we beat them to the best suite," Hercules observed. "Is what Pastius said true?"

"About the royal command and the hero thing? Yes…"

"So how come you didn't get it?"

"Me? Hey, you and Iolaus have got an excuse; you’re real live heroes. If I took it as Jason's host, there'd be trouble with the other delegates. But you guys can get away with it without making anyone jealous."

"Apart from Orides," Hercules pointed out.

Aethalides shrugged. "Everyone's equal at the Gatehouse. Now, come on and I’ll show you to your suite. You'll want to get ready for the party."

"Did someone mention a party?" Iolaus perked up.

"You need to lie down," Hercules grunted.

"Fat chance," Iolaus retorted. "Not when everyone else is having fun."

                                                            * * *

"But why do I have to wear these?" Hercules complained an hour later as he posed dubiously in front of the antique bronze mirror in the corner of his room. On Jason's behalf Aethalides had seen to it that both Hercules and Iolaus would have decent outfits to wear so they wouldn't feel uncomfortably out of place among the rich noble delegates. Hercules was of the opinion that Jason had always had a nasty streak in him and it was showing in the way he had let his tailor choose the clothes he sent. "These breeches are way too tight!"

Lolling across the sapphire blue satin quilt on Hercules' four poster bed, Iolaus yawned behind one hand as he studied his friend's outfit of black silk breeches and a deep red tight fitting tunic that exposed the sleeves of the black silk shirt underneath the tunic. Elegant scrolls of gold embroidery enhanced both items. The clothes contrived to show off the demi-god's height and muscles to his best advantage. "I have to admit they do show off your….attributes," the hunter observed with a wicked grin, absent-mindedly plucking at a loose strand of gold embroidery on the quilt.

"I won't be able to fight in these," Hercules continued indignantly, kicking at the black furs on the floor and certain he heard a seam creak in response.

"It's supposed to be a peace conference, Herc, you shouldn't have to."

"Even so…." Hercules paused abruptly, staring down at the length of his long legs then peering suspiciously into the mirror. "My attributes?" he squeaked in chagrin. 

"S L O W," Iolaus mused, sitting up cross-legged on the bed. He was wearing deep purple breeches and matching waistcoat over a turquoise shirt with silver embroidery picking out the hems. A silver buckle clasped the waistcoat, displaying the silk shirt underneath.

"I can't wear this!" Hercules wailed.

"You'll hurt Jason's feelings."

"He won't know unless you tell him."

"And you'll upset Aethalides in front of the guests."

"Iolaus! This tunic is too short!"

"Don’t whine," Iolaus scolded. "You look very….nice. Don't be such a prude!"

Hercules swung around and glared at him. "I am not a prude!" he roared, blushing furiously.

"Yeah, right."

"And I am not whining!"

"He whined…"

"Iolaus!"

Iolaus snorted and bounded lithely to his feet. Standing beside Hercules, he studied his own reflection critically. "We look okay. At least we're not going to look out of place."

Hercules moaned softly. He wasn't used to such an open display of his legs, not to mention other parts of his anatomy. He was used to a layer of good solid leather between him and the world.

"And don't hunch your shoulders like that," Iolaus scolded.

"But the tunic's too short and the breeches are too tight."

"Looking like you've got a Hydra stuffed up your back won't improve things."

"Why can't I wear my leathers?" Hercules begged.

"Because they make you look like you escaped from Tartarus," Iolaus said flatly. "Now, come on. We are not going to be the last ones arriving."

"But, Iolaus…."

"You’re whining again. Come on, if you can face fighting a Hydra you can face one little party like a hero."

Iolaus stalked towards the doors and Hercules reluctantly tagged after him. "You could go and say I was tired," he suggested hopefully. Iolaus gave him a level stare. "No?"

"No." Iolaus flung open the door and pointed. "Go on, get."

Hercules slunk past him, certain he was going to make a complete and utter fool of himself. "And if I do it’ll be your fault," he muttered at his partner.

"What?" Iolaus said suspiciously.

"Nothing, Iolaus." Hercules gave him a sweet smile, then bravely straightened his shoulders and stepped out. If he was going to be forced into the lion's lair, then he'd go in with his head held high.

                                                            * * *

"Hercules, this is Iocastus of Parthia," Aethalides announced, introducing Hercules to yet another of the ambassadors. There were so many of them that the demi-god had completely lost track of them as one face blended into another. Iocastus was a tall good-looking older man with dark hair worn in a tight page boy type style. He was dressed elegantly but in discreet good taste; unlike the Ethicans who were even more flamboyant now that they had changed out of their 'travelling clothes'. "Iocastus, this is Hercules the demi-god." Aethalides had learned caution in his introductions. Most of the delegates were snobs. Before he could go on however, he was interrupted as voices were raised on the other side of the banqueting room where the Caspians seemed to be taking exception to the Ethicans monopolising the punch bowl in between unexpected bouts of coughing. "If you'll excuse me…."

"Oh, quite, quite.…" Iocastus waved and airy hand and Aethalides hurried off  to smooth the commotion.

Hercules took the hand the ambassador extended to him with a polite smile. "I'm very pleased to meet you, ambassador."

"Enchanted, I'm sure," Iocastus assured him, turning Hercules' hand over and placing a delicate kiss on the back of his fingers. His brown eyes zipped approvingly over the demi-god's body and then burned into Hercules' own eyes. "Perhaps we could get together later and…discuss certain weighty matters?"

Good manners meant Hercules didn't quite snatch his fingers away from him but his smile curdled rapidly around the edges. "I don't believe that private discussions would be considered proper etiquette," he managed to say without stammering. 

"Oh, quite," Iocastus' smile lingered on his sensual lips. His eyes slipped away from him to Iolaus as the blond hunter innocently strolled over to join them. "I quite understand. Perhaps you and your friend Iolaus would both care to join me then? I wouldn't dream of leaving such a fine young man out of our discussions." 

"Er, no," Hercules protested hastily.

"Tsk, surely you're not jealous of him, sir? Come now, a little wine, a little good food…"

Sipping his wine from a blue glass goblet, Iolaus looked up at Hercules enquiringly as he stood beside him, wondering what he was missing out on.

"Some candlelight, a fire…." Iocastus purred on.

Iolaus choked on his wine and Hercules slapped him helpfully on the back. "No, thank you, but no," Hercules babbled. "We had a rough trip up the mountain and Iolaus needs to rest."

"Oh," Iocastus pouted in disappointment. "Perhaps later then? When you have recovered, sir?"

Iolaus swallowed and waved one hand breathlessly in a desperate signal to Hercules. "I think he needs to sit down," Hercules said quickly.

"Ah, yes, quite. He does look a little flushed," Iocastus observed with a touch of concern. Actually Iolaus was blushing in a combination of embarrassment and shocked outrage. "Until later then…"

Hercules smiled weakly and hustled Iolaus away from the Parthian, steering him around a couple of stray Caspians to a free punch bowl.  He grabbed two silver cups, filled both and thrust one into Iolaus' hand before he lifted the other to his lips.

"Herc, I wouldn't…."

Hercules downed the punch in one gulp then started coughing wildly as it hit the back of his throat with a vengeance. "Gods, what is in that?" he managed to wheeze. 

"No idea, but apparently, it's an authentic Corinthian recipe," Iolaus soothed. "You want me to get you some water?"

Hercules shook his head, wiping the tears from his eyes. Slowly a thoughtful expression crossed his face and he refilled the cup, taking a smaller sip this time. "You know it's not that bad…kind of fruity…"

"Like the Parthian?" Iolaus suggested dryly.

"Don't even joke about it." Hercules took another hasty mouthful, barely wincing this time as it went down. "Almost smooth," he managed huskily.

Iolaus grinned. "So smooth you could strip paint with it," he observed.

Hercules nodded, cradling his cup in large hands and taking a slow look around the banquet hall. "Do you remember who half of these people are?" he asked quietly.

"Nope," Iolaus admitted cheerfully.

"Great. So we’re supposed to make nice with a bunch of people we don’t even know?"

"So what else is new?" Iolaus propped a hip against the table and surveyed the crowd with him. "As long as you don't get too friendly with the Parthian…"

"Oh, very funny," Hercules growled.

"It's probably you showing off your attributes that attracted him," Iolaus teased.

"Don't go there," Hercules warned, glowering at him.

"I really don't want to. Trust me." Hercules took a quick swipe at him that Iolaus dodged easily. The hunter grinned at him mischievously and fluttered his dusky gold eyelashes.  "You can always tell him we’re an item," he giggled.

Hercules gave him a sober look. "Don't think I won't consider it," he said and had the satisfaction of seeing the look of disconcerted shock cross his partner's face.

"Oh, there you are," Aethalides said in relief as he came up and helped himself to a cup of punch. After he had recovered his breath, he took a second sip, "So that's what they were on about…smooth…" he gasped.

"Maybe it's being a demi-god," Iolaus mused, staring at him in disbelief.

"What is?" Hercules asked.

"Liking something that tastes worse than Hydra hide. You guys have no taste."

"Since when have you ever tasted a Hydra?" Hercules asked sweetly.

Iolaus gave him a dirty look. "Ah, go flash your attributes at the Parthian."

"And how much of the Corinthian have you drunk?" Hercules shot back.

Aethalides laughed, his green gaze ever alert as he kept an eye on the gathering. "Things seem to be going fairly well," he said tentatively.

"The Caspians and the Ethicans nearly came to blows a few minutes ago," Iolaus pointed out.

The Herald smirked at him. "Simply solved. I ordered another bowl of punch from Pastius. I must admit, it does pack quite a punch…"

"That was a pun," Iolaus said disdainfully.

"I know, I'm a Herald," Aethalides' smirk blossomed into a huge grin of genuine warmth. "Gods, it's so to see you two. I'm so glad you’re here! I was having nightmares about having to cope with this lot on my own."

Hercules rested one hand lightly on his shoulder. "Trust me, the first one who steps out of line I’ll snap in two," he assured him solemnly. "You point them out to me…"

"Er…" Aethalides quailed slightly.

"That was a joke, Aethalides," Hercules told him.

"Oh, right," the Herald smiled weakly. "I knew that."

Iolaus sipped his punch and shook his head, his blond curls bouncing. "So, what do we do now?" he asked curiously, flagging down a passing servant with a silver tray of titbits. Handing his cup to Hercules to hold, he helped himself to a plate and a handful of fancy pastries. "Do we circulate? Or stand here looking suspicious but pretty?"

"Actually, I'm about to seal the wards," Aethalides told them seriously.

"What wards?" Hercules asked sharply as Iolaus munched a pastry and looked at the Herald curiously.

"The Gatehouse has magic spells built into its walls. I know the incantations to activate some of the wards to protect it. Once I seal the wards, no one will be able to leave or enter the building."

"No one?" Hercules echoed, feeling a tingle of unease run down his back.

"No one," Aethalides confirmed. "Not even me. Once they’re up, they will hold until the time limit on the spell is up."

"Sounds kind of tricky," Hercules said doubtfully.

"It's traditional," Aethalides assured him. "It ensures that these negotiations remain safe, peaceful and uninterrupted. If there are any saboteurs, they'll have lost their chance to get at the delegates."

"Unless they’re already inside," Iolaus murmured.   Two pairs of eyes turned on him in alarm. "What? I was only saying…."

Aethalides glanced uneasily as Hercules. "Jason told me about the prophecy spell on him…"

"It was an accident and I don't do prophecy any more," Iolaus said sharply. "And don't talk about me as if I'm not here!"

"Sorry, Iolaus," Aethalides apologised contritely. "But that did sound…"

"What?"

Iolaus glared at him belligerently and Aethalides wisely backed off. He had known the warrior too long not to know when to retreat. Muttering under his breath, Iolaus turned his back on them in a huff and stalked off, heading for the buffet table.

"I'm sorry, but he's still a little touchy about that," Hercules said quietly.

"I noticed," Aethalides said wryly.

"He had a rough time," Hercules rumbled protectively.

Aethalides looked at him thoughtfully and smiled. "Still looking out for each other, hmmh?"

Hercules sighed and reminded himself to loosen up. "I guess," he admitted then scowled. "Why didn't you warn me about Iocastus?"

"Warn you about what?"

"The man was all but drooling over me."

"Oh…" Aethalides blushed.

"Oh? Oh?! Is that all you have to say?!"

"Not so loud," Aethalides hushed him hastily. "I didn't expect him to….well, you're not…"

"Not what?" Hercules grumbled darkly.

"I didn't think you were his type."

"Apparently I am."

"Obviously."

"You’d better keep him away from me, Aethalides. Otherwise someone will get hurt. Probably him."

"Point taken," Aethalides agreed warily.

Hercules glared at him for a moment longer and then smiled ruefully, relaxing again. "Want to finish introducing me around then? Only no more Parthians, please…"

Over by the buffet table, Iolaus was nibbling on a chicken leg and absently listening to the conversations around him. The spectacular attributes of the statuesque Caspian ambassador drew the eye of every man around her. Her long hair was the colour of best honey and was fastened up into an intricate arrangement of curls atop her head to show off her slender neck. Her almond shaped eyes were a deep golden brown with hints of green. She was wearing a long gown of rich royal blue that hugged her upper figure but swept out into full skirts from her hips. She was talking to Ambassador Neman who was holding a vase tucked close against him.

"No, Madam Astrid, I can assure you that it isn't Greek at all," Neman was saying as he placed the vase carefully on the table beside him. Iolaus eased closer, drawn by his curiosity into taking a closer look at the object of their conversation. The vase was about forearm's length and of a soft golden hue in colour. The vase was made of some kind of marbled stone, with a narrow neck and seemed to be intricately carved on the inside, although Iolaus couldn't see how anyone could have done so.

"Where then did you get it? It's really quite lovely." Ambassador Astrid had a voice as lovely as her look; warm honey that could make a man melt.

"It has been in the Ethican treasury for some time. I have been studying it in an effort to determine its origins," Neman replied, sounding reluctant to discuss it in too much detail. "His majesty the King decided that it would make a suitable token of our esteem to King Jason of Corinth to show our appreciation for arranging these talks."

Astrid gave him a thoughtful look. "You do not agree?"

"Of course I agree, madam. He is after all my king." Neman cast a suspicious look on Iolaus as he reached out a fingertip to the vase, drawn to touch it without knowing why. The stone felt warm under his fingers.

"It looks Egyptian," Iolaus guessed.

"I really have no idea."

"I thought you were studying it."

"I am. But I have no answers yet. Please don't touch it. It is very valuable."

"Then why didn't you leave it in your rooms?" Iolaus wondered.

"The servants," Neman said simply.

"Neman doesn't trust our servants, clumsy oafs he calls them. Let alone the peasants at this inn," Lord Orides commented as he came up behind his fellow Ethican. He smiled at Astrid who gazed back at him coolly as he looked her over speculatively. "He's carried the thing all the way here personally. Won't let it out of his sight. Ridiculous really. Even sleeps with it under his pillow."

"It's very valuable," Neman muttered, shooting a hostile look at the noble.

No love lost there, Iolaus thought wryly, unsure whether to look at her or the vase. The Caspian ambassador was older than he had thought at first, not that he found that any problem. Beauty was beauty after all and Ambassador Astrid was one of those women who would never lose hers.

"Why, sir, do you think someone would steal it from you?" Astrid teased.

"Yes," Neman said grimly, hesitated, then qualified, "And it would be terribly insulting to Corinth if someone was to steal it before it could be presented to the King."

"I represent Corinth," Iolaus said without thinking. "You could give it to me."

Neman gave him a horrified look. "What? Now?"

"Why not?" Iolaus wanted to get his hands on the vase, but he really couldn't have explained why. It was like a hunger. "I'll look after it for you then you wouldn't have to worry about keeping it safe."

"Oh, I don't think that would be proper," Neman blurted and made a wild grab for the vase. In his haste, his hands were clumsy and he knocked it flying.

Iolaus caught it instinctively; his reflexes honed sharp enough to catch it before it could shatter to pieces on the tiled floor. For a moment the vase rested warm and weighty in his hands, almost melting into his touch. He gazed at it in awe, amazed by the way the pattern of figures seemed to dance under the stone, gliding into each other as if there was a living golden light inside it. Then Neman snatched the vase from his hands and the spell was broken, leaving Iolaus with a momentary feeling of being bereft that faded abruptly before a sense of acute danger. "What's in it?" Iolaus blurted without thinking.

"Wine," Neman snapped. "That's all, only vintage wine."

"Really? Perhaps we could sample some…" Iolaus urged, startled at his own words and his eagerness to see inside the vase.

"I do not think so…" The Ethican was hugging the vase tightly to his chest, folding his long flowing sleeves of emerald silk around it as if he wished to hide it from view. Orides stared at him irritably.

"Really, Neman, you grow more clumsy all the time," he sniffed.

"My apologies, my lord. The long journey has obviously tired me more than I thought," Neman burbled, spreading his fingers across the vase almost lovingly.  He turned dark eyes on Iolaus, a dangerous spark bubbling in their depths. "I will present the vase to King Jason and only King Jason," he said icily. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go and rest."

"What a rude man," Astrid observed, glaring after him.

"Oh, let me make it up to you, madam ambassador," Orides purred. "I can assure you that we aren't all so uncouth."

Astrid gazed at him coolly for a long moment, then laid her fingers on Iolaus' arm. "Quite unnecessary, my lord," she replied. "Ambassador, I believe we were going to sample the punch?"

Iolaus was bewildered, but recovered rapidly. "Oh, of course. This way, madam…" He led her away from the fuming Ethican, feeling his eyes boring into his back every step of the way.

"Overbearing pompous twit," Astrid muttered under breath.

"I trust you don't mean me, madam," Iolaus murmured.

"No. Orides. The man's a moron." The Ambassador smiled at Iolaus. "Thank you for your rescue, ambassador-?"

Iolaus introduced himself as they reached the fruit punch and he filled a cup for her. "The vase is lovely though."

"Yes, isn't it. I felt quite drawn to it. I collect antiques, you know. Why the things I could show you…" Her eyes glowed as she looked him over and Iolaus got the feeling she wasn't talking about antiques. "Egyptian, you think?"

"Huh?" Iolaus did a double take and dragged his mind back on course. Her hot-eyed gaze was making him uncomfortable. "Er, yes. It looked similar to some pieces I've seen," he admitted awkwardly.

"Ah, you have travelled then?"

"You could say that," Iolaus said mildly.

Astrid studied him with new interest. "If you'll excuse me saying so, I do not believe you are Corinthian? Your accent…."

"No, I'm from Thebes. But then King Jason is from Iolcus not Corinth."

"Quite," Astrid seemed not so much amused as fascinated by the young man. "So, tell me, are you one of the famous Argonauts?"

Iolaus felt himself starting to blush. "I have that honour, yes," he mumbled.

Astrid smiled again and linked her arm through his. "You must tell me all about the voyage. There are so many tales told that one doesn't know quite what to believe."

"Most of them are true. Exaggerated, but true…" Iolaus told her, well aware that she was making a flirtatious effort to charm him.

"My lords and ladies, if I might have your attention, please? It is approaching midnight…" Aethalides' voice carried clearly over the noise of conversation. He hadn't been trained as a bard and herald in Athens for nothing. He waited patiently with Hercules hovering at his side until silence fell and every eye turned towards their host to see what he wanted. Iolaus murmured a polite excuse me to the Caspian Ambassador and slipped away from her side to join his partner.

"Found someone to flirt with already?" Hercules hissed at him impatiently.

"She's flirting with me," Iolaus corrected waspishly. "And at least she's female."

Hercules gave him a filthy look and then with deliberate disdain turned his attention back to Aethalides. But he noticed Iolaus lick a fingertip and silently score up a point to himself.

"As you are all aware by agreeing to attend these negotiations, you have agreed to accept the rules of the Gatehouse. I therefore declare that anyone who wishes to do so, must leave now as I am about the seal the wards."

"The wards?" Mollius from Cyrene pressed forward, frowning suspiciously.

"There is a magical impenetrable barrier that surrounds the Gatehouse. Under normal circumstances it remains neutral, but when negotiations are held or the house comes under attack, the wards can be raised and the house sealed. Once this is done no one will be able to leave or enter until midnight two days from now."

"Two days?" a Cochean woman in vibrant red satin gasped.

Aethalides inclined his head graciously.  "Yes, Ambassador Dulcina, that is correct. I believe it will give us plenty of time to finalise the treaty."

"But what if one has to leave before then?" Mollius protested.

"As I said, you will be unable to do so," Aethalides said patiently.

"But what if we don't finalise the treaty?" Orides complained.

"Once the wards open you will be free to leave," the Herald answered.

"This is intolerable! We will be little more than captives! No doubt you plan to murder us all!" the Ethican squawked.

"Why in Tartarus would they want to do that?" Iocastus sniffed, wafting a fan delicately in front of his face. "Why, these wards will simply ensure our privacy and allow us all to get to know each other much better. Where is the harm in that?" He purred, gazing longingly at Hercules.

Iolaus moved beside his partner and prodded the demi-god in the ribs. "He's winking at you, Herc," he whispered.

Blushing and scowling, Hercules very deliberately kept looking the other way. "As Aethalides said, anyone who wishes to do so may leave now," he said pointedly, hoping the Parthian would take the hint.

"Of course, that would mean any treaties made without you wouldn't include you," Iolaus murmured, loud enough to be heard. "And that could be a little embarrassing back at the old palace…"

Hercules glanced at him and grinned. For someone whose usual idea of diplomacy was reasoning with someone at sword point, the demi-god thought Iolaus was doing pretty well.

"If anyone wishes to leave could you please move towards the doors now?" Aethalides asked calmly. "We can delay the ceremony for a few more minutes until you are outside."

"In this weather?" the Cochean Ambassador exclaimed, clutching her long fur robe closer in dismay.

"You can wait in the stables while the coaches are made ready," Aethalides assured her.

"How simply dreadful," the Cochean exclaimed.

"Insulting," Orides agreed, sliding up beside her and looking sympathetic.

"Oh, do pull yourself together, Dulcina," Astrid snapped impatiently. "You know perfectly well you have no intention whatsoever of leaving before you have the best possible treaty you can get for Colchea. No one is fooled by your shrinking flower routine anymore. We all know what a sand shark you are."

"Well, really!" Ambassador Dulcina sniffed. "At least I don't sleep with my prey. Sampled any handsome young men recently or are they running too fast for you these days?"

Hercules turned his head and gave Iolaus a slow old-fashioned grin. Iolaus flushed and suddenly found the toes of his boots absolutely fascinating. "Told you she was flirting with me," he mumbled in chagrin.

Aethalides shifted in embarrassment. The last thing he wanted was for the delegates to start fighting. "Does anyone wish to leave?" he asked loudly and pointedly. There was a low murmur of voices but no one moved towards the doors. "I assume then that I have you acceptance in sealing the wards then?" There was another low murmur and a few reluctant nods of agreement.

"This isn't going to hurt, is it?" Mollius asked warily.

"Some of the more sensitive among you may feel a slight sensation, but that is all," Aethalides assured him kindly. "Hercules? Iolaus? If I might have your assistance?"

"You’re asking the Thebans to help you?" Orides exclaimed.

Aethalides glared at him, showing a flash of the temper he usually held well restrained. "I am asking two old and trusted friends for their assistance," he replied as icily as any prince could be. "The raising of the wards requires a certain amount of power that I know my fellow Argonauts have. We have done magic together in the past."

"Oh, I'm sure you have," Orides sneered, looking down his nose at Iolaus and slender Aethalides before sliding a knowing look at Iocastus. 

"Can I hit him now?" Iolaus hissed at Hercules as the demi-god closed a large and powerful hand over his.

"No, you can't," Aethalides snapped, taking the hunter's other hand.

"Yeah, you don’t want to upset the Ambassadors," Hercules scolded.

"Actually, I was planning on turning him into a frog later," the Herald murmured. Hercules and Iolaus both gave him a startled look.

"Your magic's improved that much?" Hercules asked, awed.

"Nah. Wishful thinking. Ready?"

"Oh, do stop whispering and get on with it," Orides sniffed impatiently. "I grow bored."

"Or maybe a toad," Aethalides sighed as he linked hands with Hercules.

"How about a toadstool?" Iolaus suggested.

"A fungus?"

"No…." Iolaus purred, his blue eyes widening wickedly.

"You are evil, Iolaus, very, very, evil," Aethalides grinned at him. "Now, concentrate on my words and say nothing." He paused, took a deep breath and shifted into the deep melodious tone he used for recitations, "I call on the ancient spirit of the Gatehouse, on that most ancient guardian that sleeps within these walls…."

Nothing seemed to happen at first, but as Aethalides continued, a breeze seemed to spring up around them, swirling in little whirlwinds around their ankles, tugging at a tunic here, a fluttering cape there….

"I call in the name of Hermes, guardian of roads, guardian of travellers. I call on that spirit which dwells within and around us to raise the walls that will protect from within and without."

As Aethalides squeezed their hands tight and pulled them towards him the air started to tingle. Hercules felt a prickle on his skin as if someone had brushed his hair the wrong way. Beside him, Iolaus shuddered all over as if something had run an icy finger down his back then looked round nervously as if looking for something.

"In the name of Hermes, I seal this ward and close the Gatehouse to the outside world."

A vast weight suddenly seemed to descend on them, as if they had dropped into the ocean depths. Feeling deafened, Hercules opened his mouth instinctively and swallowed hard even as the pressure lifted again, leaving them all feeling weightless for a split second.

Aethalides blinked sleepily, his expression dreamy and sated. "The wards are closed," he murmured in a low seductive purr. "What a rush…."

Hercules caught him as the Herald's knees buckled, supporting him as the delegates looked on curiously. Iolaus darted off into the crowd and returned with a cup of punch that Hercules held to the Herald's lips and urged him to sip.

Aethalides wheezed a bit and then took a grip on the cup for himself. "Smooth…" he croaked as he straightened up.

"The Corinthian?" Hercules asked darkly.

Iolaus shrugged and smiled innocently. "I figured he needed something stronger than the fruit punch," he said lightly, his smile wavering a little. "Herc, did you feel…?"

"Not now," Hercules hushed him. "Aethalides? You okay now?"

"Hmmh?" Aethalides gave him a dreamy look, then pulled himself together. "I felt something go through me…"

"I do so not want to hear that," Iolaus muttered.

Aethalides focused on him and smiled slowly. "No, it's all right, Iolaus. It was friendly. The wards are raised. Don't you feel it?"

Iolaus looked around him uncertainly, then at Hercules.

"It feels…muffled," Hercules said slowly. "Enclosed…"

"Yes, that's it. A nice safe feeling, isn't it?" Aethalides chirped. "Ladies and gentlemen, I am happy to say that the wards are up and the negotiations can begin. But first, let us finish enjoying our supper and then sleep on it. We can begin renewed and refreshed…"

As Aethalides talked, bringing the party back to life, Hercules drew Iolaus to one side. "You felt something?" he queried.

Iolaus nodded uneasily. "Something that felt…ancient and…curious…."

"Yeah," Hercules looked around them and draped one arm across Iolaus' shoulders. "The Gatehouse has been here so long that it has to be seeped in magic. Maybe some part of it is, well, alive."

"That's kind of fanciful for you," Iolaus teased.

"You got a better explanation? You know exactly what I mean."

"I guess…. It kind of felt like a puppy, a big dumb puppy that wants us to like it."

"Not dangerous then?"

"I don't think so. Did you think it was?"

"No," Hercules admitted. "And Aethalides seems to have…. enjoyed it."

Iolaus snorted. "He looks like he got rolled in the hay."

"Yeah, Scary, isn't it? Guess we'd better carry on mingling…" Hercules sighed as Aethalides signalled at them urgently.

"Do we have to? I'm kind of tired."

Hercules braked sharply and stared down at him. "What?"

Iolaus gave him a sheepish look. "I guess getting half frozen is starting to get to me, after all."

"Oh, rub it in, why don't you?!"

"And I think I’d like to avoid Ambassador Astrid. I'm not in the mood to be another notch on her bedpost. Especially if her idea of conversation afterwards is discussing the antiques she's collected."

Hercules considered this. "She's probably hoping to influence you into favouring Caspia in the negotiations. Jason will take our advice on what to do."

"What do you think the Parthian's doing then?"

Hercules blushed. "I've no idea," he grumbled.

"Maybe it's your body he wants?"

"Iolaus…" Hercules rumbled.

"I know. Shut up. I'm going to bed."

"Want me to come with you?"

"And give your suitor the wrong idea?  You wouldn't want to hurt his feelings, Herc, now would you?"

"Don't you flutter your eyelashes at me or I'll rip them off."

"Promises, promises."

"Oh, shut up and go to bed. I suppose one of us has to stay here and show willing…"

"Not too willing. You don’t want him to think you're easy."

Hercules took a swipe at him, which Iolaus dodged easily. The demi-god glared after him as Iolaus strolled off, pausing to make polite conversation, but still making his way discreetly towards the gilded doors and out into the main hall. Shaking his head, Hercules started towards Aethalides.

"Did you see that big brute of a Theban take a swipe at that young man?" Astrid's voice cut crisply through the air.

"Which big brute is that?" Iocastus purred in response. "The one with the rippling muscles and gorgeous long silken hair and oh those nut cracking buttocks and those long muscular thighs…"

"Stop it, Iocastus, I do believe you’re hyperventilating…" Astrid scolded primly, swatting him with her fan.

"Come now, I was not hyperventilating. Fair's fair, my dear. And one surely must be permitted a certain amount of gentlemanly drooling over such shapely buttocks as those…."

"True…" Astrid sighed.

Hercules plunged into the crowd, feeling his ears turn red in embarrassment.

"You okay, Hercules?" Aethalides came up beside him.

"I'm fine," Hercules squeaked.

"You've gone a funny colour."

"So would you have if you’d heard what I've heard."

"Maybe you shouldn't have been listening," Aethalides teased.

Hercules glared at him. "I couldn't help it."

"Oh," Aethalides decided not to argue. "Where's Iolaus off to?"

"His bed. He's tired."

"Walking up a mountain can do that to a guy."

"Don't you start," Hercules growled. "How about you?"

"Me? I'm fine. That spell was a little…stronger than I expected."

"Still checking every last detail first then?" Hercules observed wryly.

Aethalides flushed. "Yes, well…Ah, Ambassador Mollius, have you met Hercules….?"

                                                            * * *

Slipping into his room, Iolaus closed the door and leaned gratefully back against its solid wood, closing his eyes for a moment as he bathed in the luxury of an empty room. The only sound was the friendly crackling of the fire in the grate that warmed the stone room. The floor was covered with enormous snow-white pelts that could only have come from the fearsome snow Hydras that prowled the local mountains and the light of the candles in cressets on the wall struck golden glints here and there among the furs. Black furs over red blankets and sheets covered the enormous four poster bed; the red silk canopy of which was supported by four snow Hydras tusks that were carved with intricate hunting scenes.  

A servant had left a silver tray of sweet pastries, fruit and cheese and a flagon of mulled wine over a little brazier on a table by the door and he picked it up, carrying it over to put it on the floor by the fire.

Unbuckling and stripping off his vest, Iolaus paused to stretch and arch his back before the blazing fire, rubbing some warmth back into his arms. He had felt warm enough after his quick bath, but the cold was starting nibble on his bones again and he was tired after having to be so polite to so many complete strangers. Curling up among the furs on the floor, he helped himself to a goblet of wine and some cheese and settled down to watch the flames and relax. Firelight rippled over his trim body, tracing golden patterns on the shimmer of his turquoise shirt. He sighed wistfully, absently fantasising over who he would like to be curled up beside him as he sipped his wine. He had to admit he had no one special in mind, although he had a hankering after dark haired women. He had lost interest in Astrid the second he realised what she was up to.

Sighing, Iolaus set aside his goblet and peeled his shirt off over his head, then unlaced his breeches and wriggled out of them. Once he was down to skin, he took his tray over to the bed and slid in. The same servant who had left the wine and food had put a bed warmer in place and the covers were nicely warm. Plumping up his pillow, Iolaus settled down to study the carvings on the tusks until he felt asleep…

Until he realised that not all of the carvings were of hunting parties but were distinctly erotic in nature and guaranteed to keep a hot blooded young man wide awake….

Muttering under his breath, Iolaus rolled over onto his stomach and snuggled down, the warmth melting his bones as he slid into exhausted sleep…

                                                            * * *

The first thing Iolaus knew about the arrival of morning was someone hammering loudly and insistently on his bedroom door. Groaning aloud, he turned over and burrowed under his embroidered satin pillows. "Go away," he mumbled plaintively.

"Iolaus!" Aethalides voice reached him even through the muffling feathers of the pillows. "Iolaus, wake up!"

"Go pick on Hercules!" Iolaus yelled back.

"He already did, lazybones!" Hercules retorted. "If I have to get up and suffer so do you!"

Iolaus pushed aside his quilt reluctantly. "It's still dark," he complained.

"Then light a lamp, you moron!" Hercules shouted, landing what sounded suspiciously like a kick on the door. There was a muttered conversation that held the tones of a scolding, then Aethalides spoke up coaxingly.

"Come on, Iolaus, it's important."

Slowly and reluctantly, Iolaus slid out from under his nice warm covers, wrapped a fur around him and padded across to lift the latch on the door. "What's so urgent?" he asked, shoving his hair out of his eyes as Hercules and Aethalides slipped into his room.

"It's Neman," Aethalides told him as Hercules bustled over to light a lamp with the flint and steel by the bed.

"So?" Iolaus yawned and hitched at his fur. "You think I've got him under the bed after a mad passionate night?" He paused, frowned at his own words and gave his friends a belligerent look as they grinned, "Don't even think about answering that."

"Get dressed," Hercules had found his clothes for him and shoved them into his arms.

Puzzled but obedient, Iolaus dropped everything except his breeches and wriggled into them. "What's the rush?" he wondered.

"Neman's locked himself in his room and won't come out or answer anyone." 

Pulling his blue velvet embroidered tunic open over his head, Iolaus frowned at them. "Like I said, so?"

"Maybe we should have let him sleep in," Hercules said dubiously. "He's not really with it…"

"I am not letting you kick that door in," Aethalides snapped. "Iolaus, I need you to pick the lock."

"Oh, why didn't you say so?" Iolaus murmured as he padded barefoot back across the floor and rummaged through his pack for his lockpicks. He studied them blankly for a moment and then gave Aethalides a bewildered look. "Um, did I miss something? Why can't you get Pastius to let you in then?"

Aethalides opened his mouth to give him a short sharp reply and then coloured in dawning realisation.

"Because he hadn't thought of that," Hercules observed smugly.

"Neither did you," Aethalides pointed out waspishly.

Iolaus shook his head and sat on the bed to pull his boots on. "I’ll pick the lock if you want, but I really think you should ask Pastius first. After all, it is his taverna…"

"Oh shut up and come on," Aethalides grumbled and stalked out. Hercules and Iolaus exchanged a grin and followed him.

The corridors of the Gatehouse were oddly quiet, hushed with the thickness that only stone can give. Distantly the occasional faint howl and moan of the wind clawing at the walls echoed eerily around them. Cressets burned every few feet, lighting the otherwise dark passages for no natural light got into the inner corridors of the building.

Aethalides led the way down a flight of stone stairs to the ground floor, across the hall and down another stone passage to a heavy wooden door with large metal studs in it that glinted in the torchlight. A servant hovered nervously beside the door.

"I have continued to call him, sir herald," he announced on seeing Aethalides. "But he still does not answer."

"All right. You go and ask Pastius to join us." The servant bowed and hurried off as Aethalides folded his arms and looked at his companions.

"This is his bedroom?" Iolaus asked in surprise, peering around Hercules as he blocked the passageway.

"No, he shares the Acanthus Suite with Orides, but Neman asked for a room for private study," Aethalides answered.

"Probably so he can cuddle that vase of his. He seemed real attached to it," Iolaus observed drowsily. "Is breakfast likely to be any time soon? I'm hungry."

Aethalides gave him an irritated look. "Breakfast is ready for the early risers," he replied. "That’s how we know Neman isn't answering. He wanted to be called for breakfast."

"Oh," Iolaus thought this over. "Did anyone…?"

"Check his room? Yes, strangely, enough, I did think of that. There was no answer. Apart from Orides getting ratty at being disturbed."

"Sorry," Iolaus gave him a contrite look and Aethalides softened.

"Me too. I'm not good at being up this early either," the Herald admitted.

"Do either of you hear anything?" Hercules asked. He had moved closer to the door and was all but leaning against it.

"Didn't anyone teach you that it's bad manners to eavesdrop?" Iolaus scolded even as he scooted closer and joined him in listening. Aethalides hesitated, then prodded Hercules in the ribs to make him move up so he too could listen.

"I don't hear anything," Iolaus said after a moment.

"Neither do I," admitted the Herald.

"It was very faint; a scratching, scrabbling kind of sound…" Hercules said slowly then pounded one heavy fist on the door, "Neman! Ambassador Neman! Can you hear me?"

"I see he hasn't lost his delicate touch," Aethalides commented as he felt the door shudder under Hercules' fist.

"Or his dulcet tones," Iolaus muttered, having caught the full blast in one ear.

Hercules grabbed his partner's shoulder. "Pick the lock," he ordered.

"I thought we were going to wait for Pastius," Aethalides protested.

Iolaus however met Hercules' blue eyes questioningly for a second and then obeyed, kneeling to examine the lock and then select a lockpick from his set. After a moment, he frowned in exasperation. "The key's still in the lock," he complained.

"Can you do it?" Hercules rested his hands on his knees as he leaned down to look at the lock for himself.

Iolaus gave him a long-suffering look. "Of course I can," he retorted primly as he jiggled his lockpick about deftly. "Easy," he murmured triumphantly as the lock sprang open with a well-oiled click. Shoving the handle down, Hercules pushed the door open, stepping over Iolaus' feet so he could ease inside and meet whatever danger threatened first. Then he stood still, surveying the gloomy room without moving.

"Come on, Herc," Iolaus urged impatiently, prodding him in the back. "What's the big deal?"

Hercules looked down at him sombrely and then stepped forward to let Iolaus and Aethalides inside. They moved to either side of him, automatically flanking the demi-god in battle stance out of sheer habit. Neither of them said anything as they took in the shattered wreckage of the room and the Neman's body sprawled on its back on the floor.

Aethalides broke the silence with a rude word.

"What he said," Iolaus said quietly. He looked up at Hercules. "Herc?"

"Stay where you are." Hercules moved slowly forward, stepping lightly for a big man and avoiding the shards of broken stone scattered across the floor. He crouched beside Neman, studying the ornate black hilt of the dagger that protruded from the centre of his chest. He could see no signs of breathing, but touched the side of Neman's throat anyway to be sure. The flesh under his fingertips was cold and flaccid and he was glad to withdraw his touch.

"Is he?" Aethalides began tentatively.

"Very much so," Hercules sighed.  "Several hours ago I’d think too."

Reluctant to look at the body Iolaus had moved to close the door too so no one in the corridor could see inside the room. "The key's still here so the door was locked from the inside," he observed, scanning the room swiftly. Skirting the body, he started towards the drapes on the far side.  "And there doesn’t seem to be any other way in or out…"

"Suicide do you think?" Aethalides asked curiously as Iolaus started to rummage among the drapes and tapestries lining the walls.  

"Wrong angle," Hercules said slowly. "Iolaus? Are you finding anything?"

"Only dust," Iolaus admitted, emerging from the far end of the rich fabric wall hangings looking ruffled. "Okay if I light some lamps?"

"Yeah, it'd help," Hercules said gratefully. 

"Herald Aethalides?" Pastius' voice called from the corridor.

"I’d better go explain," Aethalides said gloomily. "I'm going to have to tell this to the delegates too later!"

"Rather him than me," Iolaus murmured as the Herald hurried out, closing the door behind him. He lit a final lamp and looked round uncertainly. "Funny how cold it is in here…"

Hercules wasn't listening. "Come and tell me what you think," he urged, valuing the hunter's sharp eye and wanting his opinion.

Iolaus grimaced but came over and crouched on the other side of the body. "Not much blood," he observed.

"No, I noticed that," Hercules admitted.

Iolaus gingerly touched Neman's neck and then snatched his hand away. "Must have been killed a while ago," he guessed. "But like I said it's really cold in here, that might change things."

"You ever seen anything like this dagger?"

Iolaus peered at it curiously, daring to touch the hilt with a fingertip and trace a pattern. "The carvings look like the ones on the vase he had," he said thoughtfully, then drew in a startled breath and sat back on his heels, turning his attention to the scattered pieces of stone on the floor.

Hercules watched him in bewilderment as he started to gather the bits, holding each up to the lamps and smoothing his fingers over the surface. "What is it?" he urged when his patience could no longer wait.

"This looks like the vase he had," Iolaus said slowly, offering Hercules a piece to examine. "But it doesn't feel like it. The vase felt warm and heavy, sort of soapy. But these…."

"Simply stone," Hercules said, rubbing the shard between his fingers.

Iolaus nodded uncertainly. "There was something about that vase," he said uncomfortably. "Something that made you want to touch it…"

"A glamour you mean?"

"Maybe. Neman was sure reluctant to let go of it…"

"And if someone else was that desperate to get hold of it Neman might have been killed for it," Hercules murmured. "Well, at least it's a theory."

"But how could they get out of a room locked from the inside?"

"Tricks," Hercules suggested. "You unlocked the door, could you have locked it?"

Iolaus coloured. "Well, yeah," he mumbled sheepishly. "But I didn't!"

"Iolaus, I know three people for sure who didn't kill him. You, me and Aethalides," Hercules told him reassuringly.

"That doesn't narrow it down by much," Iolaus said doubtfully.

"But it’s a start. Let's take a look around and see what else we can find," Hercules decided, pushing smoothly to his feet. "You take that side, I’ll take this."

"Oh joy, more dust."  Iolaus complained, but set off to explore his side of the room. "It looks like there was quite a fight in here," he observed, picking his way among the scrolls scattered across the floor where a stand had been tipped over. "I wonder why no one heard anything."

"Thick walls," Hercules pointed out, slapping the stone beside him. He paused, frowning. "But there was that scratching sound…"

"Rats maybe?"

"Could be," Hercules admitted, but he didn't sound convinced.

A brisk knock at the door and a brisk hail announced that Aethalides was back. Iolaus trotted over to let him in.

"I've told Pastius what's happened and asked him to bring Orides down. He should know first," Aethalides announced as he moved around Iolaus, pushing the door wide as he stepped inside. "The servants have been told to…." He never got anything as something punched his shoulder and knocked him sprawling as it pushed past him.

"Aethalides? Are you…." Iolaus was blocking the doorway as he reached across to close the door and he felt cold hands seize him and pick him up, hurling him violently out of the way as what felt like icy cold claws dug into the skin of his upper arms and drew blood. Slammed into the wall, the hunter slid down to the floor, badly stunned by the impact and dimly seeing a shadowy shape like a swirl of movement in water ripple past him as it flowed out into the corridor. 

"W'what…?" Aethalides stammered as he rolled over and started shakily to pick himself up. He was closer to the fallen warrior, but Hercules still got there first. The demi-god crouched, checking that Iolaus' eyes were open and he was breathing before he lunged upright.

"Stay with him," he barked at the Herald and shot out into the corridor, pursuing whatever invisible something it was that had attacked his friends.

Aethalides crawled unsteadily over to Iolaus and touched his knee gently. "Iolaus?" he questioned anxiously.

"Ow…." Iolaus responded plaintively. "What hit me?"

"I have no idea. Here, can you sit up?"

Iolaus nodded and winced as his head spun, but with Aethalides' help he was able to sit up and prop himself against the wall. "Did you see it?" he asked hopefully.

"No…"

"Oh, that's good. Neither did I," Iolaus said slowly.

"Great. That all we need. An elemental as well as a murderer," Aethalides sighed as he sat cross-legged beside him. He ran one hand through his copper hair, sighing at the tangles he found.

Iolaus didn't answer but rested his head in his hands, waiting for the room to stop spinning. After a moment, Aethalides touched his shoulder in concern and climbed to his feet. Cautiously, he peeked out into the corridor, tensing against an unexpected attack. All he saw was a trio of scared looking servants huddled at the far end.

"Where'd Herc go?" Iolaus asked from behind him, making a feeble attempt to get up.

"I don't know. But you stay put for a second," Aethalides ordered sharply, stepping warily out into the corridor. "You!" he called to the servants. "One of you go to the kitchens and bring some clean cloths and a bowl of clean water."

There was a quick discussion, then the youngest of them raced off while the tallest took a step closer to the Herald. "Sir herald?   What's happening? We saw Hercules rush off…."

"He was…." Aethalides headed. He didn't think the servants would take kindly to being told Hercules was chasing a spirit of some kind. "He thought of a clue and went to check on it," he said instead. "Remain where you are and make sure no one else comes down here."

"Yes, sir," the servant murmured politely enough, but from his expression his curiosity had obviously been frustrated.

Slipping back into the room, Aethalides crouched in front of Iolaus. "How you doing?"

"Okay, I guess," Iolaus sighed, gingerly caressing the back of his head.

"Here, let me." Aethalides pushed his hands down gently and felt through his hair, murmuring an apology as Iolaus winced. "That's quite a bruise you'll have there," he observed.

"Don't I know it." Iolaus snorted, peering at his upper arms. Although the creature or whatever it was had drawn blood, the wounds were little more than deep scratches despite the way they stung.  

"Still as accident prone as ever, huh?" Aethalides teased.

"Oh, listen whose talking," Iolaus retorted even as he grinned ruefully at his friend.

                                                            * * *

Hercules skidded to a halt on the main landing, feeling the back of his neck prickling with unease. Whatever had been in that room had been magical, he was sure of it. But it was no magic that he was used to. He was good at sensing magic, so was Aethalides. Between them, they should have been able to detect the presence of something, but there had been nothing to alert him of anything out of the ordinary. And now he had lost even that faint trace of it that he had sensed when it attacked his friends.

The landing was empty, he was sure of that. It was only his nerves that suggested something lurked in the ever shadowy corners where the lamplight didn't reach. Slowly, he started to prowl along the landing, picking the direction at random as being no worse than another.  

He had seen something in the doorway, a rippling effect like light on water. And whatever it was it had been solid enough for those moments to toss Aethalides and Iolaus around like paper dolls. Could it have been solid enough to kill Neman perhaps? But if so why would it use a dagger? No, the spirit or elemental or whatever it was, might have torn him apart, but a dagger wasn't a weapon that a creature of the spirit would use.

"Ambassador Hercules?" Pastius sounded surprised to see him on the landing. Orides was behind him, dressed in a flamboyant bed robe in vibrant pink that was heavily embroidered with gold. He wore a nightcap and slippers to match.

Hercules floundered for a second, staring at the nightcap with its little gold pom-pom tip. "Ah, there you are," he managed finally. "I see you found Ambassador Orides."

"He was in his room, sir," Pastius pointed out doubtfully.

"Quite," Orides sniffed. "And I must say I do not appreciate being disturbed at such an unnatural hour. I trust this is all a misunderstanding. Neman has no doubt had too much to drink and it merely sleeping it off."

"I don't think so," Hercules replied carefully. "The dagger is a bit of a give away really."

"Dagger?" Orides' eyes widened theatrically then he abruptly marched forward, sweeping past Pastius and Hercules and stalking down the flight of stairs into the main hall. "Well, what are you waiting for?" he demanded impatiently, flicking an imperious hand at them as they followed him. "Take me to him immediately."

Suppressing the urge to throttle the arrogant little toad, Hercules lengthened his own stride and strode past him, feeling very slightly smug as his speed forced Orides to scurry to keep up. He gave the servants on guard on the corridor a nod as he strode past, then led the way down to the study where Neman had been murdered.

The door was standing open now and Hercules sped up a bit to make sure he got there first to check on his friends. To his relief they were both there. Iolaus was sitting on a chair holding a damp cloth to the back of his head while Aethalides fussed anxiously over him.

"One more word, Aethalides, and I’ll be forced to hurt you," Iolaus was complaining as Hercules hurried in. Spotting his friend, he gave a slightly wan smile. "Before you ask, I'm okay. Did you catch it?"

"No. Don't mention it for now. Orides is…." Hercules broke off as the Ambassador stalked in, puffing slightly. Iolaus' eyes widened as he took in the man's sartorial splendour and focused on the bobbing pom-pom in awe.

"Ah, Neman, my old friend!" Orides wailed, rushing forward. "How could they do this to you?!"

"Please don't touch the body," Aethalides said automatically. 

Orides however had paused to wring his hands over the body and gave the Herald a filthy look. "Certainly not. What kind of a fool do you take me for?"

"I'm glad you understand about…" Hercules meant to say clues, but the Ethican rolled right over him.

"Goodness knows what he was doing when this happened," Orides went on to exclaim. Turning his back on Hercules, he glared at Aethalides. "Who found him?"

"We did," Aethalides admitted. "As requested I came to call him for breakfast. When he didn't answer, I fetched Hercules and Iolaus to help."

"The Thebans?" Orides sniffed. His tone making it quite clear what he thought of that. "A likely tale! Why didn't you fetch Pastius to let you in immediately? You could have been in time to save him!"

"I didn't think of it," Aethalides muttered irritably. "And as to saving him…"

"Hah!" Orides' eyes narrowed in calculation. "And how do I know you didn't kill him?"

"What reason would I have?" the Herald exclaimed in shock.

"It's quite obvious I would have thought; to ruin the negotiations!" Orides folded his arms.

"Neman was killed some time during the night," Hercules interrupted.

"Ah hah! So where were you, herald?"

"The same place you were; in bed asleep," Aethalides shot back, his temper rising.

"Alone no doubt?" Orides sneered triumphantly.

"Yes as it happens," Aethalides retorted. "Were you? Can you prove you didn't kill him?"

Orides spluttered at that. "How dare you?!" he stammered in outrage. "I, I have never been so insulted."

"I'll bet you have," Iolaus muttered sotte voce to Hercules. Hercules gave him a reproving look that was ruined by the smile in his blue eyes.

"And neither have I," Aethalides snapped back.

"My lords, please," Pastius said anxiously from where he hovered in the doorway. "I am sure the murderer will be found quickly."

"I demand that he is!" Orides replied grimly. "I cannot be expected to negotiate with an unidentified murderer!"

"Meaning he would with an identified one?" Iolaus commented. Hercules gave him a quelling look.

"Why, I too am an Ethican!" Orides raved on. "I could be next!"

"We can but hope," Iolaus whispered. "If only because of his dress sense…."

Hercules didn't quite grin. It was very difficult to take Orides seriously when his pom-pom kept nodding like a fandancer's plume.

"I am sure the other delegates will feel the same way about you," Aethalides retorted.

"Are you implying…?" Orides sputtered.

"I have no doubt that Ambassador Hercules will be able to solve the mystery," Pastius interrupted hastily, hoping to placate them both.

The Ethican however gave him a shocked look. "You want to leave this to Hercules? For goodness sake the man sounds like he's been named after a hiccup! And he's a Theban!"

Hercules jerked half a step towards him and then stopped, folding his hands tightly together behind his back to stop himself from hitting him.

"And he has a reputation for being trusted," Pastius pointed out firmly. "As Gatekeeper, I choose who shall investigate this matter and I choose Hercules. If you are agreed, Ambassador?"

Hercules inclined his head. "I'll do my best," he said quietly.

"My goodness, this is ridiculous! Don't you realise that we’re trapped in here with a killer? We don't have time for this great oaf to flounder around playing games! The wards should be lowered immediately and the Watch sent for…"

"By the time the Watch get here, the killer could be long gone," Hercules pointed out. "I suggest we start with you telling us what you know about Neman."

"Me? Why I hardly know the man!"

"You called him your friend," Iolaus reminded him coolly.

Orides glared at him. "Well, yes, but not a close friend any more. The man was practically a social outcast. If it hadn't been for me, he'd have locked himself away with that vase of his. He's been studying the damn thing ever since they found it. It was my suggestion he came along with me to the negotiations. He used to be very good at them."

"The vase…" Iolaus murmured, looking up at Hercules.

"Yes, the vase. Was it very valuable?"

"Priceless, absolutely priceless according to Neman. Where is it?"

"You’re standing on it," Hercules said dryly.

"What?" Orides looked down at the shards and paled in dismay. "But, but that was to be a royal gift!"

"Not any more it isn't," Iolaus said cheerfully.

Orides stiffened and glared at him. "And how exactly did it get broken?" he demanded sarcastically. "Did someone perchance drop it?"

"Obviously I’d say," Iolaus retorted, folding his arms in an effort to avoid rubbing the back of his head.

Orides took a step towards him. "You seemed remarkably eager to get your grubby hands on it last night, young man," he remarked suspiciously.

Iolaus returned his glare coolly. "Only because Neman dropped it," he reminded him, then because he couldn't resist twisting the man's pom-pom. "And since I am one of the Corinthian Ambassadors it was going to be presented to..."

"Exactly! A perfect excuse for you to come and visit Neman and be allowed in!" Orides shot back triumphantly. "Obviously you killed him! You wanted to ruin the negotiations between Ethica and Corinth so that Corinth can declare war!"

"Over not getting an old pot that we weren't expecting anyway?" Iolaus snorted. "Get real! You’re as cracked as the vase is if you believe that!"

Orides swung to Pastius. "I demand that this, this Theban is immediately locked up…" he began. Hercules grabbed Iolaus' shoulder instinctively, anticipating his friend's lunge and holding him back for a second in warning before he stepped forward.

"A moment ago you were saying Aethalides was the killer, now you've changed your mind and blame Iolaus," Hercules interrupted irritably. "Who's next? Me?" He lowered his voice menacingly. "It seems to me that you’re the one looking to start a war with all these wild insinuations."

The Ethican ambassador caught his breath and turned angrily to meet the demi-god's eyes as he loomed over him. "How dare you, sir?!"

"How dare you?" Hercules cut him off neatly. "I am assuming that you are distraught over the loss of your friend and are unaware of the inherent danger in what you are implying. I wouldn't want to think that you were deliberately inviting a duel with one of my friends."

"A duel?" Orides spluttered. "How, how…barbaric! It may be the fashion in Corinth, but it most certainly is not in Ethica. Why no Ethican would dream of behaving in such an uncouth manner!" 

Hercules inclined his head gracefully. "Quite," he agreed politely.

For a moment longer, Orides continued to stare at him, then he looked away with the faintest hint of a blush staining his cheeks. "I am overwrought," he said coldly. "I shall return to my room and rest. In the meantime, I will send my servants to attend to poor Neman."

"That won't be necessary," Hercules said quietly.

"You'll deny him Ethican rites?" Orides bristled.

"He will not be denied any rites you choose," Hercules answered politely. "But not until we have finished examining the body."

"You can’t simply leave him lying here!" the Ethican exclaimed in what seemed to be genuine horror.

"I have to agree with him there, Hercules," Aethalides said quietly. "It isn't…respectful."

Iolaus nodded gingerly. "Not to mention that it'd probably freak the other delegates," he agreed.  "Some of them have some pretty strange customs."

"And this from a Theban!" Orides sniffed.

Iolaus cast a glance at his pom-pom and pink night robe and raised an eyebrow, saying nothing but implying everything with that one look. "We should put him somewhere cold," he finished saying to Hercules. "Have you noticed it's started getting warmer in here since…since we opened the door?"

Hercules gave him a thoughtful look. He hadn't noticed it before, being occupied with other things, but now that the hunter mentioned it. "Yeah… Pastius? Do you have a cold room?"

"My goodness, do you call it respectful to stick the poor man in a storeroom!" Orides exclaimed. "Why in Ethica we would have him rest in style, with candles and feasting and…"

"Would you rather have him put in your rooms?" Hercules snapped. "We can arrange that if you wish. I thought perhaps a cold place to preserve the body would be better until you are able to return him to Ethica. But if you want to watch over the body personally…"

Orides paled slightly and clutched at the neck of his robe. "Er no, quite unnecessary. Somewhere cold would no doubt be better for his sake. I will leave you to arrange the matter. If you will excuse me?" He bowed stiffly to Aethalides and then swept to the door, pom-pom bobbing furiously.

"Lord Orides," Hercules called sharply.

"Yes, Ambassador?" Orides frowned at him impatiently.

"One more question if I may, have you ever seen the dagger before? The carvings appear similar to those on the vase..."

Orides glanced at the body, a flicker of sadness crossing his face. "Neman was always collecting bits and pieces like that. He was more interested in the past than the future. He thought the vase held the key to eternal life, instead it seems to have held the key to his death. Yes, I have seen the dagger before. It was with the vase in the treasury. It was of no interest and the King let him keep it. As far as I know he had no enemies and I know of no reason why anyone would want to kill him. So, if there is nothing else you wish to know, may I go now?"

If Hercules caught the waspish note in the noble's voice he ignored it. "Certainly, my lord."

Orides sniffed and swept out, holding the hem of his robe high as if disdaining the touch of the floor.

"If that man had changed direction one more time he'd have tied himself into a Gordian knot," Iolaus observed.

Hercules hushed him with a look and turned to Pastius. "Is there a cold room?" he repeated his question.

"Certainly, sir. But I believe we can do better for the poor Ambassador than a mere store room. There is an underground temple to Hermes where he can be placed. If you will allow me, I will go and locate the keys so he can be moved before the other guests get up."

"That would be much appreciated," Aethalides assured him smoothly.

"Why'd it have to be Hermes?" Iolaus moaned softly.

"He is the patron of travellers, sir," Pastius answered him politely as he bowed and then hurried out, clearly eager to get things tidied up before the smooth running of his Gatehouse was interrupted any further. Aethalides took a step over and closed the door.

"Well…" he murmured, then turned bright eyes on Hercules. "So master sleuth, what clever deductions have you made so far?"

"That we are in deep do-do," Hercules snorted, propping one hip on a table and folding his legs at the ankles as he balanced himself.

"Very erudite," Iolaus snorted, putting the cold cloth back on his head.

Hercules ignored him. "We know that Neman was killed with his own dagger and that it was probably over the vase."

"I think we'd figured that out pretty much when we found the body," Iolaus pointed out wryly.  

"But we didn't know about the vase being the key to eternal life…"

"Supposed key," Iolaus corrected firmly.

"Doesn't matter if it is or not only that someone believes it is. You said yourself it didn't feel like normal stone."

"My imagination," Iolaus shrugged, ignoring the odd look Hercules gave him.

"And then there was whatever was locked in here with him," Aethalides said thoughtfully from where he leaned against the door. 

"Probably a Gatehouse spirit disturbed by the violence," Iolaus said swiftly.

"Whatever it was, it's dangerous," Hercules worried.

"Who says?" Iolaus retorted, bristling.

"Come on, it attacked you!" Hercules pointed out, half laughing.

"No, it pushed us out of the way. We were between it and the door. Obviously it was scared…It didn't hurt us."

Hercules stared at him for a moment and then looked at Aethalides in bewilderment. The Herald shrugged. "Iolaus, are you sure you’re feeling okay?" he asked gently.

"Don't patronise me! I'm fine," Iolaus snapped back and came smoothly to his feet. "I think Neman killed himself and you’re piling Pelion on Ossa! I'm going to breakfast." He gave Aethalides a glare that made the ex Argonaut move smartly out of the way, then flung the door open and stalked out.

Aethalides looked slowly at Hercules. "Maybe the cold got to him?"

"No, it isn't that…" Hercules straightened up slowly, smoothing his hands down his black leather breeches. He looked down at Neman and the scattered pieces of the vase and frowned thoughtfully. "I wonder…."

                                                            * * *

Breakfast was a subdued affair. Aethalides had made the announcement concerning Neman's murder in sorrowful tones before the meal, somehow managing to sadden them all when half of them barely knew the man. Orides was muttering about making arrangements for his fellow Ethican's ceremonies and had changed into black and purple silks with sleeves that billowed like sails and a ruff that looked like a lacemaker had exploded under his chin.  By the end of the meal, most of the other delegates were more concerned with appropriate dress rather than be outdone by the Ethican's splendour and they were somewhat irritable at being delayed from their fashionable pursuits by being asked to remain in banquet hall until Hercules called for them.

Leaving them muttering about uncivilised behaviour around the breakfast table, Hercules drew his two friends outside into the hall. "We need to find out where they all were last night."

"You mean whether they were in their own beds or not?" Iolaus asked dryly as he lounged against the wall with his arms folded. He had been very quiet during breakfast, eating sparingly rather than with his usual appetite despite telling them earlier that he was hungry. Right now though, he looked a little flushed and his eyes were brightly febrile.

"Something like that, but perhaps a little more politely," Hercules said hopefully.

"Hah! Go for blunt. It's quicker," Iolaus retorted. Hercules gave him a reproving look and got glared at for the effort. "I'm not a prude even if you are," the hunter sniffed. "I'll bet Astrid had someone in her bed."

"Even so, they are Ambassadors, Iolaus," Aethalides reproached him. "We need to show them some respect at least."

"Why? They wouldn't bother if it was one of us."

"We don't want them to oppose Jason's alliance."

"Hmmph," Iolaus snorted irritably. "I say we should let them get on with their petty little skirmishes and stand by to pick up the pieces later when we can make something from it. Corinth can take them all. Why bother to conquer what the idiots will hand over for free with a bit of encouragement."

Hercules and Aethalides both gaped at him in astonishment. They both knew that Iolaus wasn't exactly the epitome of tact and diplomacy since he preferred to settle most arguments at swordpoint, but he was invariably on the side of peace and he could be a smooth talker when he set his mind to it. Actually suggesting that they let the factions carry on with skirmishes that would invariably escalate and lead to war was out of character for him.

"Are you sure you’re feeling all right?" Hercules asked anxiously without thinking.

"Yes. Why shouldn't I be?" Iolaus snapped.

"You’re not acting like yourself. And you did hit your head…"

"So I speak my mind. I don't have to have the same opinions as you all the time. What's wrong with that?"

"What's wrong with it is that you'll start a war with that kind of talk!" Aethalides exclaimed. "What's gotten in to you?"

"Nothing," Iolaus growled, pushing away from the wall and starting to pace restlessly up and down across the tiled floor. "I don't like being caged up in here with a killer is all."

It was a fair comment, but somehow neither Hercules nor Aethalides believed it.

"You start running your mouth off to these nobles and you'll do nothing but cause trouble. We want to find the murderer, not make another one."

"Oh, fine," Iolaus practically spat. "You don't want my help? I'm not good enough for you? Is that it?"

"No one said…"

"Well, this Theban knows when he's not wanted! You go ahead and suck up to your precious delegates! I'm out of here!" Iolaus spun on his heels and stalked away.

"Don't be so touchy! That isn't what I meant!" Aethalides protested.

Iolaus replied with a rude gesture.

"Iolaus!" Hercules yelped indignantly. "You can't leave the building! You come back here and apologise!"

"You and the horse you rode in on!" Iolaus snarled and headed up the sweep of stairs to the upper floor.

Hercules took a step after him, then swung helplessly back to Aethalides. The Herald looked furious. "What's wrong with him?" he begged to know.

Aethalides shook his head, his copper hair swirling around his face until he shoved it back irritably. "I have no idea," he said grimly, forcing himself to calm down. "As you said, he did hit his head. Maybe that has something to do with it. I’d better keep an eye on him."

"I don't think he wants to see either of us right now," Hercules argued, putting out an arm to block the Herald from following his partner. "And we do have the delegates to question. They won't take kindly to being asked to sit on their hands for much longer. Let's let Iolaus calm down a bit then I’ll go and talk to him."

"I thought you were worried about him," Aethalides grumbled. 

"A little," Hercules admitted awkwardly. "But you know he is. He gets grouchy when he's tired or hurt. He's probably going to lie down for a while and doesn't want us to worry."

Aethalides gazed at him thoughtfully, seeing the obvious worry in Hercules' carefully stoic expression. They needed to find the murderer before someone else got hurt and Iolaus throwing a temper tantrum over something they didn't understand would simply have to wait. "Okay, Hercules, we’ll do it your way."

"Thanks," Hercules let out a sigh of relief. "Right. We need to establish where everyone was last night and who knew where Neman was. I know Neman said the vase was for Corinth, but did anyone else want it enough to kill for it?"

"They’re hardly going to admit it if they did," the Herald pointed out.

"I know, but being asked might make them slip. Or it might prompt them to say something about someone else."

"You’re smarter than you look," Aethalides teased.

Hercules grinned. "One thing I know about the nobles is that they love gossip and they adore doing the dirty on people; especially if it makes them look good."

"Why, Hercules, you’re practically a diplomat already!"

"Don't be insulting," Hercules scolded. "Any other ideas?"

"Only that I think we should investigate Neman's room. If that vase is anything to go by, he was dabbling in magic.  And I want to know more about that knife."

Hercules' smile faded slightly. "I was going to get Iolaus to ask Ambassador Astrid about that. He said she knew something about antiques."

"Maybe you should ask her then."

"Um, well…" Hercules couldn’t help remembering the conversation he had heard between her and Iocastus.

"Unless you want to talk to Iocastus?" Aethalides said wickedly.

"You're as incorrigible as Iolaus," Hercules grumbled. "You talk to him, I'll talk to her. And in the meantime I'll get Pastius to watch Orides' men moving the body."

                                                            * * *

Sitting on his bed, Iolaus dragged the furs tighter around him and shivered, staring uneasily into the fire blazing in his bedroom grate. . His stomach was churning after eating even the small amount of food he had had for breakfast. He couldn't get warm and he felt incredibly weird, as if he was floating some six inches above his own head  and he was not at all happy about the way he had snarled and insulted his friends. He could hear himself saying the words, see himself doing it, but it was if he had been someone else, unable to stop himself. He had fled rather than make it any worse, hoping that some sleep and peace and quiet would clear his thoughts. Miserably curling up on the bed, he burrowed under the furs and hoped he would feel better when he woke up. He was definitely going to have to apologise to Hercules and Aethalides later. Hercules would undoubtedly let him off the hook when he admitted how he was feeling; the big guy had been awfully upset over dragging his friend through the snow and would forgive him anything anyway. But Iolaus wasn't going to use that as an excuse for bad behaviour. And he knew he shouldn't have been rude to Aethalides at all. The Herald had been right after all.

Sighing unhappily, Iolaus curled up tighter than ever and focused on the hypnotic dance of the candles by his bed, willing himself to go to sleep. As he slipped gratefully into an exhausted doze, he was almost but not quite sure he saw the shadows in the corner of his room stir and deepen, taking on disturbing depths as they rippled across the floor towards him.

                                                            * * *

Hercules paced the room, listening to Aethalides expand on what they knew so far about Neman's murder to the senior delegates. It wasn't much when he thought about it and the Herald was taking care to avoid admitting how little they knew. They didn't want the murderer to feel safe. They needed to make him uneasy. Aethalides felt that that way the killer might make a mistake and reveal himself. Hercules wasn't so sure. He didn't think someone capable of murder was likely to panic easily. So, he paced like a hungry basilisk and cracked nuts between his fingers to seem threatening, tossing the sweet meat inside into his mouth to chew ferociously as he studied the gathered delegates.

Astrid kept darting little glances from him to Aethalides and back again, but she didn't seem nervous, more…aroused. Recalling what Iolaus had said about her, the demi-god could well believe that events had excited her.

Mollius was blatantly sweating with nerves, but it seemed to be more fear of being the next victim from the way he talked than anything else.

Iocastus was watching Hercules himself, every now and then his tongue flicking out to dance over his lips as he smiled hopefully up at the demi-god as he passed him.

Orides was clearly angry and bad tempered, insulted at being rounded up with the rabble as he put it.

Dulcina was pale, but seemed to be bearing up nobly and Hercules got the impression from her polite behaviour that she considered herself above panicking.

"Oh, Hercules?" Iocastus leaned forward in his seat, beckoning to him as Hercules passed his chair.

"Yes, Ambassador?" Hercules came to a wary halt at what he hoped was out of pouncing range.

"Would you mind squeezing my nuts for me?" the Ambassador purred, fluttering his eyelashes at him as he held put a handful of the nuts the demi-god had been munching. "You do it so well."

Hercules could feel himself flushing at the look in Iocastus' eyes, but there wasn't a thing he could do about it without seeming surly. So he took the nuts and crushed their shells, handing the fragments back to him as politely as he could manage.

"Oh, you’re so masterful," Iocastus simpered with a knowing expression. "You can crack my nuts any time you want."

Hercules felt his face go scarlet. He could guarantee that Iocastus knew he had overheard his remarks to the Caspian Ambassador the night before and was deliberately tormenting him. Retreating, Hercules could hear Astrid giggling behind her fan as Iocastus pouted and mouthed a kiss at him. Coming up to Aethalides' side, he met the Herald's eyes and scowled at him for the amused sparkle he saw in their green depths.

"When you've quite finished, oh masterful one?" Aethalides murmured with poisonous sweetness.

"Ah, shut up and get on with it," Hercules growled irritably, folding his arms and wishing Iocastus' eyes didn't widen that way at the display of muscle on view.

Aethalides smiled wickedly and turned back to the delegates. "And so, Hercules and I would like to speak to you all individually to see what you might know about what happened to poor Neman."

"You’re not implying that we had anything to do with it, are you?" Ambassador Dulcina said stiffly.

"Obviously someone here did," Orides said impatiently. "And I for one am not going to let some foreigner kill a fellow Ethican without finding him. Or her…"

"It must have been a servant," Mollius exclaimed, sweating even more profusely.

"You seem very nervous, perhaps it was you," Iocastus said maliciously. Mollius cringed in panic, blathering denials.

"Oh, don't be ridiculous!" Astrid snapped. "We’re all from noble houses. It couldn't possibly have been one of us. Mollius is right. Obviously it's a servant. You two should stop wasting our time and look for the real murderer among them. That's where you'll find him"

"Where's that blond fellow?" Orides demanded to know. "He's remarkably conspicuous by his absence suddenly."

"He went to lie down," Hercules answered icily.

"Or search our rooms perhaps?" Iocastus commented.

"Yes, yes, that's it, they'll plant something," Mollius exclaimed. "They want to make one of us look bad to the others…"

"Enough," Hercules bellowed. "No one is going to plant anything and no rooms are going to be searched without your permission. We will question to the servants too. One of them may know something."

"But you don't think one of them is the murderer?" Iocastus asked, leaning forward again. "Why not?"

"Most of them have been here for some time according to Pastius. It seems unlikely that any of them would have a motive to kill Neman. He's never been here before, has he, Ambassador Orides?"

"No, neither of us have," Orides admitted slowly.

"Robbery," Astrid sniffed. "The killer obviously intended robbery. No doubt something valuable was taken."

"The only valuable thing Neman had was the vase and that was smashed," Orides told her thoughtfully. "He was never a man for riches. I would be a far more likely target if that was the motive."

"An assassin perhaps then," Iocastus suggested. "Someone planted among the servants and out to disturb the peace talks. We should not allow this to distract us from the reason for our being here. Neman would not want that."

Orides snorted. "You didn't know Neman," he retorted, slapping one hand on his silk clad thigh.  "I say question away. Neman won't lie quiet until his killer is found and that will make his shade as sure a disruption as any." He pushed to his feet and pointed an imperious finger at Aethalides. "You, come along and I will tell you what I think."

Orides stomped out, leaving Aethalides to exchange a long-suffering look with Hercules before the Herald followed the Ethican out.  The demi-god turned back to the others, managing to avoid Iocastus' pleading look and the lusty contemplation in Astrid's lazy perusal of his body. The last thing he wanted was to be alone with either of them. Leaving Mollius to stew a little while longer seemed useful, so he turned to the Cochean delegate. "Ambassador Dulcina? If you would be so kind."

"Certainly. Although I do not know what I could possibly know that would be of any help to you, young man." She rose gracefully to her feet in a sweep of rose silk skirts and placed her hand on his offered arm, allowing him to walk her to the door as if leading her out onto the floor to dance.

                                                            * * *

Iolaus had a feeling he was lost. He had taken a wrong turn after leaving his quarters and ended up wandering down long dark corridors, becoming more and more unnerved the further he wandered. No one answered his calls and he was starting to get scared when he saw a door ahead of him that let a sliver of light gleam out in the darkened corridor, luring him towards it.

Relieved at seeing some sign of life in this deserted part of the Gatehouse, Iolaus lengthened his stride and approached the door eagerly, reaching out to tap on its polished wooden surface.

"Hello?" he called politely as the door swung open to his touch. "I'm sorry to intrude but I seem to be lost."

When there no immediate answer, he slipped inside and looked around him curiously. The room was far more elegant than the barbaric splendours of his suite. Delicate paintings of distant landscapes that he didn't recognise ornamented the walls. Cushions of rose pink, black and gold tumbled in plump profusion across a magnificent silk canopied bed with coverlets of fine gold and black spotted furs. The bed curtains were tapestries, finely embroidered with flowers of every kind. At the foot of the bed there was a single pedestal table on which rested a silver tray, a crystal wine flagon and twin glasses that were red with wine. Beside them gleamed a candle and one blood red rose enhanced the table in its silver vase. 

"Someone's expecting company," Iolaus murmured under his breath, padding softly closer to the bed and hoping he wasn't going to find it occupied by a busy couple. "Er, hello? Is anyone here? Only I seem to have gotten lost…."

"Really?" There was a burble of beads as the door curtain to the next room was brushed aside by a young dark haired woman, who had vivid green eyes and a sensuous figure that was clad in draperies of pale green.

Iolaus swallowed, feeling his mouth turn dry in the heat she brought with her. He bowed to her politely. "Excuse me for intruding on your privacy like this, but the door was open…" He gestured towards it, surprised to find it now closed.

"You tease me, sir," she said lightly as she drifted towards him on gossamer slippered feet. "You came seeking me, did you not?"

"Forgive me for contradicting a beautiful woman, but no. I meant to go to the main hall but I must have got turned around somewhere. I've never been to this part of the Gatehouse before."

"It can be confusing to strangers." She smiled at him as she picked up a goblet of wine and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Come sit with me and tell me your name."

Iolaus opened his mouth to introduce himself and found the words drying on his tongue. "Tell me yours first," he urged, even as he found himself drawn closer. He sat beside her on the bed, hypnotised by the glinting depths of her eyes.

She blushed. "Ah, I cannot do that without knowing yours."

"Then we must both remain a mystery to each other," Iolaus replied coolly, taking the wine goblet she offered him.

"Must we?" Her smile promised delights and secrets as she leaned towards him. "Drink…"

"Er, no, I think you were expecting someone else," Iolaus protested. He had no more idea who she was than she had of his identity, yet she was blatantly offering him her all. And while it was a tempting offer, Iolaus couldn't help but wonder if she was part of the Gatehouse's entertainment for guests.  Or maybe it was something, someone else. Like Hermes maybe?

"Only you."

"Maybe you're mistaking me for that someone else."

"Only you," she repeated and shook her head, her hair sliding in a glossy wave over her shoulders and spilling down over her breasts. A single diamond glinted there, glittering like a drop of water that hypnotically drew his eyes down. "Do you not think I am beautiful?" she whispered with a little pout.

"Oh, yes, very…." Iolaus stammered, dragging his eyes away from the silk fabric moulded over her very curve.

"Then kiss me," she urged. "Drink of my wine and stay with me…"

Iolaus shook his head, even as his eyes followed the brush of her fingertip across her ripe lips, brushing away a drip of wine that she daintily licked off with a flicker of a pink tongue. She moved closer, her heady scent intoxicating his senses and leaving him drunk on her presence. "I have to go," he managed, struggling to maintain some sense of propriety. "My friends are expecting me back."

"No, no they’re not." Her fingers were warm as she cupped his jaw, her breath soft as she blew in his ear. Her breasts brushed his bare upper arm, soft and inviting his touch. "Kiss me…"

"Please…." Iolaus didn't know what he was saying it for, only that some instinct warned him away from her. His arm slid around her without his volition, pulling her closer against him.

"It's all right," she whispered. "They won't know, or care…I can be anything you want, everything you want…only stay with me. Be mine…"

"I can't…" Iolaus begged.

"They don't understand you like I do. Only me for you…you'll need no other, want no other…We can be together forever…." Her eyes were enormous, pools of ocean green that he could drown in. Her lips touched his, brushed him like a lick of fire that would scorch him to the bone. Her arms enfolded him, pressing him down into the soft feathers of the bed, holding him with a strength he couldn't fight as her mouth devoured his…

                                                            * * *

"Well, that was pretty much a waste of time," Aethalides grumbled as he and Hercules stalked back towards the Olympic suite.

"I'm not so sure," Hercules said slowly. "Dulcina told me that Iocastus had someone in his rooms last night."

"Oh? Jealous?"

"Funny."

"Or was she implying it was you?"

Hercules scowled at him. "Neither is that."

Aethalides shrugged. "Only lightening the mood."

"Joke telling was never your bardic strong point."

"It isn't yours either."

"I'm not a bard."

"I noticed."

Hercules grunted. "The point is, if Iocastus had someone with him last night, it rules him out as the killer."

"And rules Dulcina in. What was she doing up and around to notice him having company?"

"She doesn't sleep well in strange places she said. She and one of her maids stayed up sewing. The girl's getting married soon and they’re embroidering her dress. I spoke to her other maid and the girl confirms it as something they’ve been doing for a while. The maid also says they could hear Iocastus and his lover er…moving around for quite a while."

"Rats. What about the others?"

"Nothing of any use. Mollius says he was in bed alone, which is pretty much what they all say. Astrid agreed to look at the pieces of the vase and the knife when we're ready. What did Iocastus tell you?"

"Actually, he said he was alone too. But if he'd paid one of Pastius' men for his favours, he probably wouldn't want all the others to know. Or you…"

"Aethalides, I've thought about it and that definitely isn't funny."

"Ah, you still prefer blonds?" the Herald teased.

"I'm going to tell Iolaus you said that," Hercules growled darkly at him as he opened the door to the Olympic suite. The door opened into the main room between his and Iolaus' bedrooms. As usual there was a fire burning in the grate and the candles were all lit, adding their warmth to that of the fire. Despite that, the room felt icily cold and Iolaus was lying sprawled unconscious on the floor…

With a horrified yelp of his friend's name, Hercules dived across the room and landed on his knees beside him with a thud, pressing strong fingers into his throat to feel for his pulse. He could feel it pounding along like the horses in a chariot race, yet his skin was icy cold and he was shivering. "He's freezing," he exclaimed in alarm, looking up at the Herald.

"Pick him up," Aethalides ordered, darting away into Hercules' room to get the fur off the bed. When he returned Hercules had scooped Iolaus off the floor and deposited him on the couch, pulling the whole thing over as close to the fire as he could get.  Aethalides draped the fur over the hunter and knelt beside him as Hercules sat on the edge of the couch, patting Iolaus' face gently and calling him as the warrior stirred and moaned.

"Whazzit…" Iolaus forced his eyes open, opening them wide and blinking furiously as he struggled to focus. "Herc? How'd you find me?"

"Right here on the floor," Hercules answered dourly.

"Where…?" Iolaus looked around him groggily, taking in his familiar surroundings in blank bewilderment. "How'd I get here?"

"You’re in the Gatehouse, Iolaus, remember? You and Hercules came here for the peace talks?" Aethalides explained, exchanging a worried look with Hercules for their friend's confusion.

"Don't treat me like an idiot, I know where here is, but not how I got here…"

"We walked…" Hercules offered in chagrin.

Iolaus glared at him. "What is wrong with you two?" he demanded irritably. "Where'd she go anyway? Did she fetch you, is that it?" He frowned at Hercules. "And you’re being disapproving again because I was with her…"

"I have no idea what you’re talking about," Hercules reproached him. "Aethalides and I came back here to fetch you. We found you lying on the floor. I guess you fainted."

"Oh…." Iolaus stared at them blankly then rallied. "Fainted? I never fainted. That's crazy. I came back here and fell asleep after breakfast. When I woke up I thought I’d better find you guys and apologise for being so mouthy before, then I got lost and I found her and, and…." Iolaus stammered to a halt, looking terribly confused.

"Maybe you dreamed you got lost and met someone," Aethalides offered kindly. "You certainly never left this room. You could have been sleepwalking."

Iolaus looked slowly from one to the other of them. "I fainted?"

Hercules nodded solemnly, fussing with tucking the edge of the furs around him. "Looks that way. Maybe you should go back to bed and rest…"

Iolaus ignored him, turning to the Herald. "There was no woman?"

"Not unless you've got her stashed away here somewhere," Aethalides teased.

"She seemed so real. And her eyes….she had eyes like yours, like…." Iolaus paused, scowling to himself as he recalled the glacial ice shimmer of her green eyes.  "Oh, the bastard, the unprincipled perverted bastard…" He hissed and sat up, dislodging the furs and ignoring the sudden spin of his head as he gave Aethalides a shove so forceful that he actually tipped him over. "It was him, wasn't it? It was that goat fondler Hermes! He's been in my dreams again!"

Aethalides pushed backwards on hands and knees until he was out of range of a sudden kick. "Not to my knowledge, he hasn't," he protested. "I’d know if he was around."

"So would I," Hercules agreed.

Iolaus took a swipe at his partner and nearly fell off the couch as his balance suddenly toppled. Hercules caught him, cradling him in alarm as he pushed him back flat. "Lie down and rest…."

"Why do I feel so weak?" Iolaus complained in a small voice. "I feel like I haven't slept or eaten in forever….Herc?"

"I don't know," Hercules admitted anxiously. "You didn't eat much for breakfast after half freezing and then getting bounced off the wall, then you fainted, maybe that's why you feel weak…"

"You’re babbling," Iolaus smiled faintly.

"I always babble when you freak me out. Haven't you noticed that before?"

"Sorry, but keep your voice down. I have a headache too…"

"I'm not surprised. Having a headache after you fainted is normal," Aethalides reassured him quietly.

Iolaus peered at him. "Aethalides, I'm sorry I snapped…"

"It's okay. Look, I’ll go get you something to eat.  You stay here with Hercules and rest." Rising lithely to his feet, the Herald patted Iolaus' shoulder and trotted out.

Fussing the furs back around his friend, Hercules looked up and flushed when he caught Iolaus watching him. "You scared me," he complained.

"Sorry…I don't know what happened. I don't remember coming in here…"

"Don't keep apologising, simply stop scaring me…" Iolaus opened his mouth to reply and then smiled as Hercules held up a hand in warning. "Ah, not again," the big man scolded as he sat down beside him on the couch. "Maybe you should get some sleep now while I'm here to watch you."

Iolaus pouted at him and stretched, folding his arms behind his head for a pillow. "I may feel weird, but I don’t feel tired," he explained. "Talk to me. Have you find the killer yet?"

Hercules sighed and folded his arms across his chest. "No," he admitted ruefully. "But I did get propositioned…"

"You did?" Iolaus gave him a round eyed look of awe. "How unusual…"

Hercules blushed and studied his boots tips. "It's this damn tunic, it's too damn short."

"Yeah right. Who propositioned you?"

"Can't you guess?"

"Astrid?"

"And?"

"Iocastus? Now there's a surprise…."

"Don't be sarcastic. Anyway, it's the fact he damn well pinched me that was the damn surprise," Hercules muttered in a surly tone. "It isn't fair. Anyone else did that and I’d snap his fingers off, but he's a damn Ambassador…"

                                                            * * *

"No one propositioned me," Aethalides grumbled an hour later. Iolaus was sitting on the bed in his room where he had moved while he and Hercules waited for the bard to return. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, the hunter was busily polishing off the last chicken leg and licking his fingers clean like a cat.  His colour had improved and he was definitely looking and feeling better for a decent meal and a glass of spiced mulled wine.

"It's the legs that does it," Iolaus said cheekily, winking at Hercules.

Hercules glowered at the pair of them from where he leaned against the doorjamb. He was wearing a black velvet gold embroidered tunic over black leather breeches.  "This damn tunic is too damn draughty round the nether regions," he grumbled.

"Ah, don't be so grouchy," Aethalides retorted. "At least you look the part of an Ambassador instead of like you fell off a fishing boat."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"You were looking a little…scruffy, shall we say?"

"Disreputable's a good word," Iolaus chirped helpfully.

"And don't think I wasn't including you in that description," Aethalides told him primly. "Your clothes were ruined."

Iolaus stared at him for a long moment and then pointed an imperious finger at him. "Hurt him, Hercules."

Hercules chuckled, his mood lightening. He knew Iolaus would never mean an order like that. "What would you prefer? A general maiming? Or snapping a few bones?"

Iolaus sniffed as Aethalides laughed. "Being dragged up a mountain is not good for one's sartorial splendour anyway," the hunter muttered, miffed.

"Hmmh. Done it often, have you?" the Herald teased.

"Hey, we don't all get to loll around in a palace looking pretty," Iolaus retorted.

"Ooh, I never knew you thought I was pretty, sweetness," Aethalides cooed, fluttering his copper eyelashes at him. "This is so sudden. Care to loll around with me, sugar?"

Iolaus stared at him in horror for a moment and then shuddered as the Herald burst out laughing at his shocked expression. "Did anyone else go to a scary place then? You sounded exactly like you know who," the hunter exclaimed in complaint.

"I practise," Aethalides laughed. "It impresses the listeners."

"It doesn't impress me, it's scary," Iolaus scolded indignantly.

Hercules grinned. "I thought your reaction was pretty impressive," he teased and then broke off as someone hammered urgently on the outer door. Straightening up, he called for them to come in.

The door was opened and Pastius stuck his head inside. He looked unusually flustered. "I'm terribly sorry to intrude, sirs," he panted, clearly having run all the way to the suite. "I wouldn't dream of intruding normally, but I believed you should know immediately."

"What is it, Pastius?" Aethalides slipped around Hercules to greet the innkeeper. 

"It's young Flavius, sir," Pastius began, clasping his hands together anxiously in front of him. "I know he was no better than he should be. He was sent up here to keep him out of trouble and to curb his philandering ways, but…but…he wasn't really bad…"

"Was?" Hercules said sharply, aware of Iolaus joining him in the doorway.

Pastius nodded, practically crying in his distress. "He's been found, sir, cruelly murdered. I thought you should know…" He looked anxiously from one to the other of them. "Oh, sirs, you will find who killed him, won't you? I know he's not as important as Neman but…but…he didn't deserve to be killed…"

Hercules took his arm and guided him to a chair while Iolaus fetched what was left of the wine. "Drink this and calm down," Hercules ordered him steadily when Iolaus pressed the goblet into the man's hand.

"If Flavius was murdered then we'll find his killer," Aethalides assured him. "But first, Pastius, tell us what you know of where he was when Neman was killed."

"Oh, sirs, you don't think, he killed the Ambassador, do you? Despite his loose ways, he was never violent…"

Aethalides glanced up at Hercules and got a cool nod of understanding. It looked like they might have found Iocastus' late night companion. "No, Pastius, we don’t. But Neman's killer may have killed Flavius too. He may have seen something. So, tell us what you know about him…"

                                                            * * *

Flavius lay where the servants had found him, half curled up in a corner of the corridor. Iolaus shooed Pastius back around the corner while Hercules and Aethalides exchanged grim looks. Aethalides knelt to examine the body, lifting back the sheet that had respectfully been laid over him. His sharply in drawn breath before he even started to examine the body made Hercules crouch beside him.

Flavius had been older than Hercules had expected from Pastius had said, close to his own age in fact. He had been dark haired and strongly built, muscular and sturdy the way Iocastus seemed to like them. There was an odd little smile on his face, fixed in place now as his flesh cooled, but his skin seemed stretched tight over his bones, as if he had spent too much time in the sun.

"Guys?" Iolaus called from where he had stopped to look for tracks in the dust. According to Pastius, this part of the Gatehouse was little used except by servants taking shortcuts.

"What?" Hercules looked over his shoulder at him.

"There's a door here and tracks."

Hercules exchanged a look with Aethalides and then rose to go to the hunter's side. Iolaus was crouching, studying the tracks he had found. "I don't see any door," Hercules said, puzzled.

"Look close." Bouncing to his feet, Iolaus ran his fingers down a line in the heavily carved stone. It looked like a crack between the heavy blocks until Hercules pressed his hand over it and felt the draught that came through it. "I think it must be one of the secret passages Aethalides mentioned. I wonder where it goes."

"I don't know but we'll ask Pastius."

"I'm sure I could figure out how to open it. I could…."

"No."

"You don't know what I was going to say."

"You were going to suggest exploring. And we are not going to go wandering around secret passages when there's a killer on the loose. What about these tracks?"

Iolaus gave him a frustrated look, but crouched. "Two sets of prints. Soft soled slippers; they'd be expensive. They lead to and from this door. And leather ones; coming to and from this wall. Twice. I’d say the second ones belong to Flavius."

"Twice?" Hercules studied the tracks curiously.

"Yeah. And they cover the slippers. So whoever it was, was following slipper man."

"Sure it's a man?"

"You don't usually get women with feet of that size."

"Okay. Any chance of seeing where they go?"

Iolaus shook his head in disappointment. "The dust has been disturbed."

"Too many people have crossing them," Hercules sighed.

"That too. It's like a wind's blown through here…"

Hercules pursed his lip and then padded back to Aethalides with Iolaus on his heels.

"Any sign of a wound?" Iolaus asked softly as Hercules crouched beside the Herald.

"There is no wound," Aethalides said grimly, glancing back at him.

"What killed him then?" Iolaus came closer to peek over Hercules' shoulder curiously.

"I'm not sure," Hercules said slowly. "I was expecting a knife or maybe…Could he have been strangled?"

"There are….fang marks on his neck and he seems to have been drained of blood," Aethalides said slowly. "But he looks…happy despite…." He shrugged helplessly.

"Maybe he wasn't murdered then?" Iolaus suggested, studying the dried out face of the man. "Could it have been, well, natural?"

"What do you think?" Hercules gave him a sharp look.

"Me? Why ask me?" Iolaus backed away, suddenly defensive. 

"Have you ever seen anything like this? Does it look natural to you?" Hercules wanted to know, ignoring the puzzled look Aethalides gave him.

"No, yes….um…." Iolaus hesitated. "It reminds me of those zombie things that attacked us when we were Argonauts…"

"I was really hoping you weren't going to say that, Iolaus," Hercules groaned.

"Oh, gross," Aethalides shuddered and sat back on his heels. "You think he's going to get up again?"

"You know more about magic than we do. You tell us," Hercules pointed out dryly.

"Oh, oh, yeah, so I do," the Herald flushed slightly. "Well, I wouldn't have thought so, but I guess we can make sure he doesn't."

"What's with this we?" Iolaus demanded.  "I don't want anything else to do with zombies ever again. The last time was bad enough!"

"Take it easy, guys," Hercules soothed as he straightened up. "The point is that whatever killed Flavius wasn't human. Nothing human could have sucked him dry like this. So Neman's murderer didn't kill him. Unless…"

"Unless? Unless what?" Iolaus squeaked.

"Suppose there was something in that vase. Suppose it was under Neman's control and, now it's been released, it's under the killer's control."

"And they ordered it to kill Flavius?" Aethalides guessed.

"It's possible…" Hercules said thoughtfully.

"Or it got hungry," Iolaus added.

"What?" Aethalides and Hercules both looked at him in surprise.

"Er, I have no idea why I said that. I don't believe in vampires," Iolaus admitted, squirming in embarrassment. "Don't mind me. I'll go and talk to Pastius about that secret passage, shall I?"

As he darted off, Hercules and Aethalides exchanged a look. "Strange as it might sound, that is a definite possibility," Hercules said slowly. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"I don't know. What are you thinking?"

"Funny. That it's something like a vampire?"

Aethalides considered, pursing his lips. "Why something like a vampire?" he asked slowly. "Why not a vampire?"

"Because I think it was contained in that vase. That means it has a spirit form not a physical one. If you kill a vampire all you get is dust. You can't exactly bottle its essence."

"But you can reconstitute one with blood."

"There wasn't much blood around when Neman was killed," Hercules reminded him. "And we would have seen it in the room. They can't walk through walls as far as I know."

"Okay, how about a Lamia instead? It's essence could be trapped," Aethalides said slowly. "And if it was snared, then it would have to answer to a master to survive. And it could use its victim for a mortal form."

Hercules' eyes widened. Lamias were shapeshifters, taking on the form that most appealed to their victims so that they could drain the energy and life from their lovers, and it did seem more likely than a vampire that would only have drained the blood. "What was it Orides said about the vase being the key to eternal life? Isn't there a legend that if you can trap the essence of a Lamia, you can force it to give you eternal life?"

 Aethalides nodded slowly. "They have to share the energies of their victims with their master and keep him young too. But if it is some kind of Lamia, what are we going to do? It's trapped inside the wards for now, but if it got out-." He shivered. "A vampire would be easier to deal with!"

"I know. You don't have to remind me. We have to find out who its master is. We have to find Neman's murderer before it kills again. And we have to do something about Flavius before he rises."

Aethalides ran one hand through his copper hair, making it ripple like fire. "And we’d better do it before the delegates come out of their talks. Let's get Iolaus and put the body with Neman's."

"Right. They can be company for each other," Hercules agreed, almost cheerfully. 

Aethalides gave him a strained look. "You know, Hercules, sometimes you have the weirdest sense of humour."

"Sorry. I think Iolaus is rubbing off on me."

                                                            * * *

Flinging the doors to the temple catacomb open, Iolaus stepped aside and bowed gracefully low as Hercules and Aethalides carried Flavius' body in. He had caught up with them in the corridor. "You could help you know," Aethalides grumbled as they lugged the body over to the nearest stone plinth. There were three all together; one of them held Neman's body covered over by a velvet drape.

"What? Poor mortal me?" Iolaus exclaimed, fluttering his eyelashes at him in dismay. "I did my bit. I asked Pastius about the passage."

"And?" Hercules asked.

"He thinks it connects up with Neman's rooms."

Aethalides nearly dropped his end of the body and came to a halt. "Then the tracks…." Hercules grunted irritably and gave the Herald a pointed look. "Oh yeah, sorry…."

Hercules snorted again as he and the Herald placed Flavius gently on the plinth. "Cold down here," he observed as Iolaus trotted over to fetch a folded velvet cloth to cover the body with. There were no statues within the catacomb, but the walls were painted with colourful scenes of beautiful youthful men and women banqueting among the flowers and lakes, mountains and trees of the Elysian Fields. A doorway at the far end entered onto the temple proper where a statue of Hermes could be glimpsed.

Seeing where Hercules was looking, Iolaus trotted over and firmly closed the door. He definitely didn't want Hermes to know he was here. "Now can we go back…." Iolaus began as he turned back, then yelped in alarm. "Aethalides! What are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" The Herald had peeled back the cover over Neman and was examining the body. "Come and look at these slippers. Do they match the tracks?"

Iolaus reluctantly came closer and peered at body's feet. "No," he admitted. "These are very soft leather and there's a cut here that would have shown up…."

"So, it wasn't Neman. And the other tracks were Flavius, you said?" Hercules glanced at his partner as Iolaus backed away from the plinth.

"Yes," Iolaus said firmly.

"So presumably he saw the killer enter or leave the secret passage. Maybe that was why Flavius was killed; to stop him telling what he knew."

"You’re forgetting that Flavius was killed by something unnatural. He wasn't murdered as such." Aethalides pointed out as he made a careful examination of the knife. He curled his fingers around the dagger, estimating the force and angle of the wound before he let go. "It was the knife that killed Neman, Hercules. There's no sign of desiccation."

"You’re ghouls," Iolaus complained, folding his arms and shivering. "Both of you, ghouls!"

"They could have taken the knife out," Hercules muttered.

"You said not to," Aethalides reminded him. He looked at a nervous Iolaus and then exchanged a conspiratorial look with Hercules. Hercules caught on fast and the corner of his mouth hooked up in a wicked grin.

"Did I? Oh well, pull it out now then."

"Why don't you do it?"

"Why do I get an uneasy feeling about this?" Iolaus murmured, sidling warily round them.

"I'm a demi-god," Hercules reminded him.

"So am I and what's that got to do with it? You’re stronger than I am."

"You said the dagger might be magic," Hercules pointed out. "If a demi-god touches it, it might do something. We might activate the spell."

"I'll be going now," Iolaus said softly, tiptoeing towards the doors.

"Then a mortal should do it. Isn't it lucky we have one with us? Oh, Iolaus…"

"Damn, almost made it," Iolaus sighed ruefully and swung back to face them. "I really don't think I should do it," he exclaimed, all wide eyed innocence.  "I mean if it's dangerous for you, it's probably dangerous for me too and I couldn't possibly be strong enough to do it anyway."

"Cluck, cluck, cluck," Hercules teased.

"Low blow," Iolaus grumbled, glaring at him. "Why do I have to do it?"

"Why not?" Hercules responded.

"Hercules could be right…" Aethalides pointed out. "And why not you? Suddenly squeamish, are you?"

Iolaus gave him a dirty look and came back to look down at the body. "Why does anyone have to pull it out anyway?" he asked plaintively.

"Well, we can hardly leave it there," Hercules pointed out.

Aethalides prodded Iolaus in the back. "Unless you want to help me with Flavius?" he asked. "We have to fill his mouth with salt and then sew…."

"I'll pull the knife," Iolaus said quickly. "Don't stand there watching me." He wiped his hands down his pants legs and licked his lips before taking a tentative hold on the dagger and tugging gingerly. Nothing happened. The blade was stuck tight in the bone. He could feel it grating on ribs and grimaced, doing his best not to think about it as he took a better, stronger hold.

Grinning, Aethalides tugged at Hercules' sleeve and led him over to the far plinth. Hercules however had a doubtful expression on his face. "You know, teasing aside, thinking about it…I'm having second thoughts…. " he said slowly. "I don't think…..Iolaus, don't…." He swung back to his friend as Iolaus took a firm grip on the dagger's handle and pulled with all his strength.

Coruscating blue white energy exploded from Neman's body, dancing like living tongues of flame over and around him, running like liquid down the sides of the plinth and scorching up the knife and into Iolaus. The hunter was literally plucked off his feet and flung across the room to crash into the wall several feet above the ground and hang there limply, twisting amid the snapping lashes of crackling energy.

"Iolaus!" Hercules howled as he ran to his lightning chained friend, staring up at him in alarm. "Aethalides, do something!"

"I don't know what to do," the Herald protested, looking around him desperately. He didn't have the spells for this.

"Hurry up! It's killing him…!" Hercules wailed, reaching up through the spitting sparks to attempt to grab his friend's ankles and struggle to pull him down. Lines of energy wrapped his wrists, trapping him. To his astonishment they didn't burn as he expected, but held him fast unable to touch the hunter.

Above him Iolaus opened his eyes, his gaze hazy with blue fire. Hercules couldn't hear what he said, but he could read the words his lips shaped. Get me down….

"Aethalides!" Hercules screamed.

"Okay, okay….um…." Aethalides scrubbed one hand through his hair and then did the only thing he could think of, he reached through the spitting hissing flames engulfing Neman's body and grabbed the dagger by the hilt, exerting himself with one frantic pull….

The dagger came free like a knife from butter, tipping the startled Herald on his rear end on the floor with a snake of lightning curling inquisitively around him. Shocked, he dropped the knife without thinking. Sparks danced around his fingers like fireflies, glimmering prettily on his fingers before they went out.

At the same moment, the crackling lines of energy that had ensnared Iolaus snapped, dropping the hunter without warning and releasing Hercules from its grasp. Reacting instinctively, Hercules stuck out his arms and caught his friend before he could hit the floor and break his neck. He folded under him, hitting the floor with a thud that knocked the breath out of both of them as he broke Iolaus' fall with his own body.

Energies swirled around the room like a blue white whirlwind, spiralling downwards until they funnelled back into the dagger. A few last late sparkles ran over the black hilt of the knife then all was still again.

Aethalides was the first to stir and cautiously sit up, eyeing the dagger as it lay innocently on the stones beside him. "Well…" he murmured in dazed awe. "Hercules? Iolaus? You guys okay?"

"Yeah…." Hercules wheezed and stirred, gingerly rolling Iolaus off his chest.

"Speak for yourself…." Iolaus whimpered. "Ow, ow, ow…."

 Aethalides picked himself up and shuffled over to them. "Are you hurt?" he asked as he crouched stiffly beside his friends. "Burnt?"

"No, it wasn't hot," Hercules murmured. He gave Iolaus a gentle prod in the ribs. "Stop making so much fuss, you’re not hurt."

Iolaus opened his eyes and gave him an annoyed look. "But I could have been and it's no thanks to you two that I wasn't after setting me up like that!"

"Sorry," Hercules mumbled, genuinely contrite.

"We didn't know," Aethalides soothed. "It didn't react when I touched it."

"Well, it did when I did!" Iolaus snarled as he sat up and rested his head dizzily in his hands for a moment. 

"Yes, but it shouldn't have done," Aethalides said, frowned. "Come on, Iolaus, you don't really think I’d let you do something I thought was dangerous, do you?"

Iolaus hesitated, then looked up at him in exasperation. "I guess not." He turned his gaze to Hercules and smiled ruefully at his worried expression. "I don't really blame you," he admitted wryly. "It…startled me is all."

Scared would be a better word, Hercules thought but he didn't say it aloud. He had been scared too. "Are you going to say it only wanted to get away this time too?"

Iolaus gazed at him in bewilderment for a moment then started to frown. "It wasn't the same thing at all," he argued.

"No," Aethalides agreed. "This wasn't a…spirit. This was magic. A spell somehow connected to the knife."

"And it didn't actually hurt any of us," Hercules said thoughtfully. "It was like…" He paused, looking from one to the other of his friends. "It felt like it was looking for something."

"Yeah? Well, it more or less ignored me and it stopped you from helping Iolaus, but it went for Iolaus…" Aethalides said slowly. He walked back towards the dagger where it lay on the floor and crouched to gaze at it thoughtfully.

"Don't look at me. I don't know what it wanted to tell me," Iolaus protested.

"Who said it wanted to tell you anything?" Hercules said quickly.

Iolaus gave him a blank look. "I don't know. A feeling…What are you scowling at me for now? I didn't do anything except what you told me to do.  I didn't want to touch the knife!"

"I'm not scowling, I'm thinking," Hercules retorted.

"Must hurt then," Iolaus snorted, pulling his feet under him and pushing slowly upright. He had to lean on the wall for support until he got his balance.

"You’re more shaken than you think," Hercules said in concern as he got up slowly. "Iolaus, didn't you say you'd touched the vase?"

"What vase?" the hunter said, giving him a blank look.

"Neman's vase," Hercules told him patiently.

"Oh, yeah, that vase.  Yeah, I caught it when he dropped it," Iolaus admitted, frowning. "You mean the knife went after me because it's connected to the vase and I touched it? Like it's protecting it?" 

"Something like that," Hercules said slowly. "Aethalides, I think it's time we went through Neman's things. Maybe you can find something out about the knife and the vase. We need to know what we’re dealing with."

The Herald looked up, holding the dagger lying quiescent in his hand. "That sounds like a good idea," he said mildly. "But maybe Iolaus should go and take a bath."

"You mean you want to get me out of the way?" Iolaus growled, bristling.

"No, I mean you hit that wall pretty hard and you’re going to bruise if you don't."

"Oh," Iolaus slumped slightly in chagrin.

"Now would be good, Iolaus. Unless you want to help me here? I need to cleanse Flavius' body so he doesn't rise," Aethalides prompted dryly.

"Oh!" Iolaus started for the door where he hesitated. "Herc?"

"I'll stay and help Aethalides. Unless he really is going to sew his mouth up…?"

Aethalides smiled wickedly at him.

"I wish you wouldn't do that," Hercules moaned.

"I'm going," Iolaus yelped and darted out in hurry. Hercules gave the Herald a queasy look.

"You’re not…?"

"No, but I have a feeling we should keep Iolaus out of reach of any magic we find from now on."

Hercules gave the Herald a baffled look. "Why? He's good at puzzling things out."

"I know, but think about it. The spell on the dagger attacked him. Something definitely happened to him in your suite. Remember how cold it was, how tired and drained he seemed? It was an awful lot like what happened to Flavius. Then there's what happened in Neman's room when whatever was in there got out? Remember how Iolaus reacted?"

"Yeah," Hercules admitted slowly. "But you’d better not be suggesting Iolaus is the killer, Aethalides, because…."

"I know, I know, you'll break me into little pieces. No, I think that whatever was in that vase may have latched on to him because he was the last person other than Neman to touch it. It needs a master and it needs to feed."

"Iolaus wouldn't…."

"I'm not saying he knows anything about it. But think how protective he was about whatever was in that room. It could be using him to protect it while it finds a new master that wants it and it can manipulate. Or…"

"Or what?" Hercules demanded uneasily, unnerved by his tone of voice and prompting him when the Herald fell into a thoughtful silence.

"Or it finds its master's killer. It's been freed from its captivity because the vase has been smashed and no one here actually knows how to control it. The only people who have a claim on it right now are the person who freed it and possibly Iolaus. If it can kill them, it's free. It won't need anyone."

"What if it goes after Iolaus first?" Hercules said in alarm.

"It can't until it kills the killer. Then…"

"Aethalides, sometimes the way you think scares me," Hercules complained. "Sprinkle your salt or whatever it is you have to do for Flavius, then come on. If you’re right, I don't want to leave Iolaus on his own for too long."

"Water is a protection against magic," Aethalides pointed out complacently as he unfastened the pouch at his belt and started to sort through the bits and pieces of his spell kit.

"Assuming he takes a bath and doesn't go wandering off," Hercules grumbled, folding his arms and scowling impatiently.

Aethalides pursed his lips as he located a paper twist of salt. "I don't think he's in any danger. Iolaus is a very energetic person. Any Lamia would lick its lips over him and make him last a while. He may be safer than any of us."

                                                            * * *

By the time he reached the bathhouse, Iolaus had gone from being glad to escape Aethalides and his anti-zombie spells to annoyance at being more or less told to get lost. He stripped off impatiently in the outer changing room, wrapped a towel around his waist and stalked into one of the bathing chambers. He was alone since the other guests preferred to bathe - if at all - in the comfort and privacy of their own suites with their servants to dance attendance on their every move.  Having the bathhouse to himself suited him however; he wasn't in the mood for company.

Bunch of lazy good for nothings…. Iolaus thought irritably as he dropped his towel on one of the ornately carved stone seats and touched his toe gingerly into the hot water of the oval bathing pool. The water was perfect, not too hot and not too cold. Delighted, the hunter padded around to the end and down the steps into the water, finding it deep enough that he could actually swim in it without difficulty. Relaxing into the cradling ripples, he lazed on the surface, idly drawing his arms to and fro to make ripples splash against the red tiled sides and cast silvery candlelit shimmers up the walls. 

Someone had made an effort to decorate the bathing rooms pleasingly. Frescos of dolphins adorned the ceilings and bottom of the pool, while the walls were filled with brightly coloured fanciful landscapes. Hot water bubbled from the mouth of a carved stone dolphin at the far end of the pool, where it was linked by pipes to a boiler system and a pleasing gurgle told of water splashing away through the overflow outlets hidden among the tiles. 

 Although Iolaus hadn't said anything to his friends, he was still getting cold chills every now and then and the warm water felt wonderful. Floating lazily, he eased over to the wall and settled onto the underwater stone seat, stretching his legs out idly to let the undercurrents he had stirred up massage his thighs. Ruffling up his hair, he settled back against the water warmed tiles and rested his arms along the edge of the pool, letting his thoughts roam where they pleased.

It was typical of Hercules and Aethalides to get him out of the way and treat him as if his opinion didn't count. No doubt they would preen and pose if they found the murderer. They acted as if they were scared he might outdo them and find the killer before they could. And wouldn't it annoy them if he did! There was Hercules being the noble mystical warrior, the magnificent demi-god who could do anything. And Aethalides the wise, silver tongued Herald; the perfect demi-god with the magical touch and the ability to weave great spells…

Hah! Iolaus knew them both better than that.  Who did they think they were anyway? Sending him out of their way like a damn slave, treating him like he was nothing better than, than…

Iolaus scowled, furious with the pair of them and angry with himself for thinking such bitter thoughts.

Even if they were true?

Iolaus' scowl deepened uncertainly. He knew Hercules too well to think he would ever mean to be condescending towards his friend - at least not deliberately. Iolaus knew too much about him to let him get away with it. And Aethalides wasn't capable of being patronising...

Why are you lying to yourself? You’re mortal and they’re not. They think they're perfect. Now that they have an audience to appreciate them they’re merely showing their true colours. Don't you see? They're actually suspicious of you. They think you must be the killer simply because you’re mortal. They don't know who the killer is so they’re laying out a plan to blame you for it…

All this talk about the vase and the knife being important. It's mere foolishness, mere distraction. A ploy so that when they lay the blame at your feet no one will think to look further. They’re both demi-gods. And demi-gods are never wrong….

 Iolaus started as water splashed in his face, shocked to realise he had almost fallen asleep in the bath. His head felt full and foggy, muzzy with thoughts that didn't feel like his.

So much for trust. So much for friendship. So much for the Argonauts. Jason didn't want you. He wanted Hercules the famous hero…

"No," Iolaus whispered, wishing he didn't feel so unconnected to his own body somehow. Jason had sent an invitation to both of them and it was Iolaus who carried the ram's head seal ring of Corinth.

The little whisper in the back of his mind stilled and Iolaus sighed, closing his eyes in weariness.

This is crazy. I don't know why I'm thinking these things. Herc's risked his life for me…

To make himself look good, yes. He grows tired of you. He doesn't need you any more. Neither of them do. You need to find your own way, tread your own path of wealth alone…

Wealth? Where had that thought come from? Iolaus had never bothered much about riches. He had enough for what he needed. The land Skouros had given him made him secure and all the Argonauts had done well out of the voyage to Colchis.  Money would be useful if he wanted to settled down, but he wasn't ready for that. There was still too much to do and see.

Women then? Do you not yearn for the perfect woman? The one who will tend you and love you and only you? Who will do your bidding in all things? Who will obey you and only you…

That's a slave not a woman.

Iolaus sat up with a surge of water and shook his head violently. He adored women. Mysterious creatures all who aroused his senses and made him wonder at the way they thought and felt. The few times he had ever thought about actually settling down he had imagined his lady to be someone who would share his life and his bed, who would think for herself and love him for who he was, not what he was.

You deserve more. You know that…You'll never find her while they’re around. You need to get them out of your way…kill them….

"No!" Iolaus yelped aloud. These weren't his thoughts! He would never even dream of hurting his friends, let alone kill them! Scared, he looked around him, staring at the huddled shadows that seemed to heap up in the lonely corners like mounds of black silk. Was it his imagination or were they moving?

Splashing across the pool, he pulled himself out of the water and grabbed his towel, winding it around his hips and feeling better for its forlorn protection as he looked around him uneasily. Nothing had changed. The candles still glimmered and shone on the water like moonlight, the flowers on the walls still seemed to dance in an unfelt breeze as the reflected light off the ripples shimmered over them. He could even smell a faint flowery perfume hanging seductively in the air…

So why did the shadows seem darker in the corners? Why did they seem to thicken and ooze towards him across the red tiled floor? Why did one particularly dark shadow near the door seem to take on shape and substance, forming a figure….

Suddenly he knew that getting out of the water was a mistake. It could get him now.

Why he did it Iolaus didn't know; call it survival instinct, sheer panic, innate knowledge or even a sixth sense….

Whatever it was, Iolaus ran as if Cerebus himself was on his tail….

                                                            * * *

"Hercules, you worry too much," Aethalides grumbled as he followed the demi-god along the corridor. Having finished protecting Flavius' body, they had paid a short visit to Pastius and got him to lock the knife away in the Gatehouse vault for safekeeping. As far as Pastius knew, no one had seen Flavius since the feast the night before until his body was found. Now Hercules was determined to check up on Iolaus. "What kind of trouble could Iolaus possibly get into taking a bath?"

Hercules raised an eyebrow at him. "You’re kidding, right? Practically the first time you met him he was in trouble in a bath house."

"Oh, yeah," the Herald mumbled sheepishly. "I forgot. Is he making a habit of it then?"

"I hope not. But this whole thing is making me nervous. Besides that thing clobbered him and I probably shouldn't have let him go off on his own. I've got a bad feeling…."

Aethalides sighed and gave in. For as long as he had known Hercules, the demi-god had been fretting over someone; if not Iolaus then one of the other Argonauts. He seemed to have taken it on himself to be responsible for the whole world and seemed determined to become everyone's conscience. 

"Aethalides…."

"Sorry. What did you say?"

"I said, which way is the bathhouse?" Hercules repeated irritably.

"Oh, down here." Aethalides turned down the corridor, embarrassed to have been caught out drifting. "I still say you’re fretting….oofff…." The explosion of air was knocked out of him as Iolaus slammed into him as he rounded the corner and knocked him sprawling, bouncing off the Herald. Hercules caught the hunter before he hit the flagstones on his face as he rebounded from the impact with Aethalides.

"You were saying?" Hercules said dryly to Aethalides as the Herald lay wheezing for breath on the floor.

"Hercules!" Iolaus grabbed his friend's arm with one hand and clutched at his towel with the other. "It's after me!"

"What is?" Hercules gave him a puzzled look.

"That!" Iolaus pointed frantically back down the shadowy corridor.

"What?" Although, he peered carefully into the darkness Hercules could see nothing.

"That!!!!" Iolaus repeated, retreating behind the bigger man and jabbing a forceful finger at the shadows.

"I don't….uh oh…" This time Hercules saw it, an oozing shapeless something rippling across the floor in slow waves that eddied and splashed against the walls. He took a step forward, hooking a hand under Aethalides' arm and lifting him to his feet. "You see that?"

The Herald nodded, still holding his ribs.

"What is it?"

Aethalides gave him a slow look and shrugged. "Ghost?" he managed.

"It talked to me!" Iolaus protested as he knotted the towel securely over his hip. "Or something did. It wanted me to…. to….never mind what it wanted! Do something!"

"Who? Us?" Aethalides asked sardonically.

"You’re the magic user!"

"Herald," Aethalides corrected.

"Now is not the time to be pedantic. That thing's dangerous."

"Oh, so now you admit it."

"I'm not saying it's the same thing at all!" Iolaus blurted, but he sounded uncertain as he glanced towards the shadows again. They had stopped pursuing him but lay quietly, like water that had found its own level. It rippled, light for the torch sconces giving its surface an inviting silvery shimmer that seemed to offer a moonlight swim. Without thinking, he took a step towards it, half hearing the wordless whisper in his mind, crooning a seductive invitation…

Hercules and Aethalides instinctively grabbed an arm each as Iolaus' blue eyes glazed over and he started to walk towards the shadows.

"This is not good," Hercules worried when calling his friend brought no reaction. 

"No. Any ideas?"

"Me?"

"You’re the man with the plan."

"Not this time. You’re the magic user."

"Like I told Iolaus…."

Hercules grunted, pushed Aethalides' hand aside and pulled Iolaus over his shoulder. The hunter hung limply, then his head lifted as he looked towards the shadows. "Let's go then."

"Go?" Aethalides gave him a startled look.

"You got a better idea?"

"Well, no…."

"Come on then." Hercules took a determined step back up the corridor. Iolaus promptly started to struggle and the shadows started to flow, boiling up the corridor after them, rising and massing into a man like shape.

"Let me go!" the hunter cried out. "It's calling me. Can't you hear? Put me down."

Aethalides took an instinctive step to guard Hercules' back and flung up his arms, his fingers hooking into the symbols as the words of power rose unbidden to his lips.  Black tendrils lashed out, sparking like ebony flames against the invisible wall that seemed to have sprung up between it and its prey. Shadows heaped up against the shield, seeming to bow it outwards under their weight. Then abruptly they collapsed, flowing like water into puddles on the floor that evaporated into nothingness like mist on a warm morning.

Iolaus slumped over Hercules' shoulder with a moan, shaking his head. Glancing at Aethalides, Hercules lowered him back to his own two feet and steadied him, watching his eyes anxiously until Iolaus focused on him.

"What happened?" the hunter slurred, clutching at his head as he trembled in Hercules' grip. 

"You tell us," Aethalides pressed.

"Oh, don't start that again!" Iolaus complained.

Hercules shot a glare at the Herald too. "I thought you didn't know any magic?" he growled sarcastically.

"A simple ward," Aethalides muttered in chagrin.

"Why didn't you use it straight away? You always wait until it's almost too late," Hercules said angrily.

Iolaus nodded groggily, massaging his temples. "Show off….glory hunter…" he mumbled, swaying into Hercules' hasty grab of support.

"Look, I wasn't sure what effect it would have. After what happened with the knife I had to be careful," Aethalides protested. "I didn't think it was necessary… It wasn't really doing anything…"

"Apart from attacking Iolaus! Come on, Iolaus, you need to get some clothes on before you freeze." Hercules turned his back on the Herald, hustling Iolaus off down the corridor and away from the bathhouse. 

"I'll stay here and make sure it's gone then, shall I?" Aethalides called after them forlornly.

"Do what you want," Hercules called back, then turned the corner and was gone.

Aethalides gazed after them, both annoyed and chagrined by their lack of understanding. It wasn't what he expected from either of them. First all of Iolaus had started to behave strangely and now Hercules…Maybe Hercules was only reacting out of worry over Iolaus; he could be pretty single minded when it came to his best friend's safety, but Aethalides suddenly found himself doubting it. With two murders; one of them by something unknown, there could be more going on than any of them realised.

With a final glance down the corridor towards the bath house, Aethalides decided against going to investigate further no his own. Lifting his hands, he sketched symbols in the air, seeing them glow in his mind's eye as he raised a barrier across the corridor that would prevent any mortal from crossing it.  Iolaus would not be able to return here, even if he was called. Nor would anything else be able to cross it. Hopefully, he had sealed whatever it was in this annex but he had an uneasy feeling that he hadn't.

                                                            * * *

"Herc, don't keep nagging me. I don't remember!" Iolaus complained impatiently as they crossed the main hall on the way to the stairs and their suite.

"You ran way from it…"

"Yes, I told you. I saw something in the bathhouse and I thought it was dangerous. So I ran away." Iolaus was not happy about that. It didn't fit with his self-image. He wasn't used to running away from anything. Let alone some kind of ghost! Ghosts couldn't hurt him. They had no flesh or blood to hurt him with. He knew that.

"Why?" Hercules pressed.

"I told you, I thought it was dangerous."

"That wouldn't usually make you run away," Hercules pointed out, coming to close to Iolaus' own thoughts for comfort. "How did you know it was dangerous? And what did you mean when you said you’d talked to it?"

"I said that? What was I thinking?"

"I don't know. That's the point," Hercules muttered, frustrated.

Iolaus chewed his lip and hugged his arms around himself, realising how cold he was and starting to shiver in the cool air of the hall. "It, it said that you and Aethalides don't need me," he said uncomfortably. "That you want the glory of finding the murderer and you think I'll get in your way and find him first…"

"You know that's a lie!" Hercules protested indignantly then gave Iolaus an anxious look. "Don't you?"

Gazing up at him, Iolaus read the worry in his blue eyes and smiled faintly. "Yeah, Herc, I know. You never think of glory…."

"Iolaus, you…." Hercules paused and took a deep breath. "You know I need you. You’re my best friend. You’re not going to let some bad tempered ghost ruin that, are you? I need you!"

This time Iolaus' smile held genuine warmth, but before he could say anything the patter of applause interrupted them.

"Oh, very touching," Orides observed sarcastically. "But really, must you carry out your assignations here in front of everyone? And wearing nothing but a towel? Get a room!" 

Iolaus glanced down and blushed, but he held his ground. Hercules stepped in front of his partner, automatically blocking him from the view of the delegates. The door to the discussion room had been opened and the ambassadors had started to emerge in time to hear Hercules' protests.

Iocastus was looking from one to the other of them, adding two and two and getting five from the wounded looks he gave Hercules.

Dulcina had a quizzing glass out and was inspecting Iolaus as thoroughly as she could by craning for a view around Hercules. On the other side, Astrid was licking her lips and looking thoughtful as she eyed up the blond hunter. Not even Hercules was big enough to block the view of both of them.

"It isn't what you think," Hercules blurted

"It never is," Orides sniffed disdainfully. "You Thebans are all the same! Sex mad!"

"Here, allow me to save your blushes, young man," Iocastus said abruptly as he swept off the deep burgundy cloak he was wearing and stalked briskly past Hercules to wrap it around Iolaus before the startled hunter could protest.

"I was taking a bath," Iolaus explained feebly, murmuring his embarrassed thanks to the Parthian Ambassador.

"Without your clothes?" Mollius exclaimed, clearly shocked by this lack of propriety. "And in front of the ladies too!"

"Well, I would hardly keep them on, would I?" Iolaus shot back, feeling safer and warmer under the cloak as he hugged it around himself.

Personally, Hercules figured Iolaus had more to worry about from the way Iocastus was looking at him than anything the women might be thinking. Iocastus had a twisted expression on his face that was half way between jealousy and hunger.

"Really, I don't mind," Astrid purred. "He's adequately covered….damn it…"

"Quite," Dulcina murmured absently.

Iolaus shot a hunted look at them and gathered up the cloak. "If you'll excuse me, I’ll go and get dressed," he mumbled.

"Would you care for some help?" Iocastus murmured, leaning over him with a greedy look in his eyes. "You look a little…shaken. Has something disturbed you?"

"I can manage," Iolaus assured him, backing away before he made a quick dart for the stairs.

Hercules frowned suspiciously at the Parthian, wondering why he had noticed Iolaus was shaken when the others hadn't.  His glare however was mistaken and drew a delighted smile from the Ambassador.

"Jealous?" Iocastus purred the whisper at him as he passed, his fingertips drifting across Hercules' rump

Hercules blushed and floundered. "How did the discussions go?" he blurted desperately. "All settled?"

"No. We have decided to break for lunch," Orides said icily. "Will you and your…colleagues join us afterwards perhaps?"

"We've been a little busy," Hercules mumbled. "There's been another…murder."

"What?" Orides roared above the outbreak of shocked exclamations. "How could you allow this to happen?"

"I didn’t," Hercules growled back. "Something attacked and killed one of the servants."

"Something? Not someone?" Orides said sharply.

"Something," Hercules confirmed, hesitated and then decided on the truth as he knew it. "We think that Neman had the essence of a Lamia trapped in that vase of his. When he was killed it was released and it's now loose in the Gatehouse. That's what killed the servant and it may kill again. Iolaus, Aethalides and I saw something in the bath house." There was a thud as Mollius keeled over in a faint, sliding down the wall into an untidy heap on the floor. Orides looked at him in disgust as Dulcina knelt uncertainly beside him and patted his face.  Iocastus paled, looking as if he too might faint as he looked blankly around him.

"This is your fault," Astrid exclaimed, turning on Orides. "You brought him here. Him and his damn vase. It was your idea for him to come!"

"Don't be ridiculous, woman!" Orides snapped. "I don't know anything about a Lamia! Whoever killed Neman is responsible for this!"

"Who was killed?" Dulcina asked from where she knelt.

"His name was Flavius," Hercules answered. It was an uncomfortable feeling to be watching them for their reactions as if he was watching actors in a play.

Orides glared at him. "A servant you said? How was he killed?"

"The life was sucked out of him."

"By this Lamia spirit?" 

"That's how it looks."

"And what are you going to do about it?"

Hercules gritted his teeth. He wanted to punch Orides out for constantly backing him into a corner. "I don't know," he grated.

Orides scowled. "Of course, I don’t know what else I expected," he said irritably and shot a glare at Mollius as the man moaned. "Someone throw a bucket of water over him," he snapped.

"Don't be so cruel!" Iocastus said sharply. "He was shocked…"

"Weren't we all," Astrid said primly. She was still watching Orides, her doubts showing in her amber eyes.

From the corner of his eye, Hercules saw Aethalides come into the hall with Pastius. Assessing the situation at a glance the Herald stalked over to help. "Is there a problem, Ambassadors?" he asked smoothly.

"First of all there's a murder which you failed to prevent, now this Theban tells us there's not only been a second killing but there's a Lamia loose!" Orides snarled.

"The essence of a Lamia," Hercules corrected determinedly.

Aethalides raised a copper eyebrow at him. "Well, he's correct. There is a Lamia spirit loose and we will track it down. But since there's nothing we can do and our good host is waiting lunch for us, why don't we all go in and eat?"

There was much muttering and arguing, but one by one the delegates followed Pastius off to the dining room with Mollius leaning on Iocastus' arm. Orides was the last to go and he had the last word as well. "I am holding you responsible for this,." He told Hercules and Aethalides. "I expect you and that blond to find Neman's killer and this Lamia immediately or I will be complaining to King Jason personally."

"Jason would never let you in the palace," Aethalides hissed at his back as the Ethican stalked off to lunch. He turned back to Hercules as he stood with folded arms and a wooden expression.

"I suppose you think I shouldn't have told them," Hercules rumbled.

"I wasn't going to say that. Only that you might have chosen a better time."

"They had to be warned to be careful."

"Yeah, I know. Where's Iolaus?"

"He went to get changed. Orides was making snide remarks and Iocastus was…." Hercules shrugged and flushed.

"Oh, right," Aethalides hesitated, then took a deep breath. "Hercules, you’re right. I should have been quicker to use magic. I don't know why I didn't. I'm sorry. I put us in danger."

Hercules eyed him and nodded. "I shouldn't have yelled at you. I don't know why I did."

"It could be the Lamia…"

"Or the fact that we’re trapped in here making us all jumpy? At least it's trapped now…"

"Um…."

"Um?" Hercules gave him a wary look.

Aethalides shrugged helplessly. "It's …gone…I could feel it slip away….You don't think I’d have left it if it was still there, do you?"

"Oh great."

"It isn't my fault. I don't have the power to control it."

Hercules gave him an irritated look and then shook his head. "No, no, you don't. It isn't your fault. Look, you go watch our guests. I’ll get Iolaus and meet you for lunch." Hercules sighed. "I guess Orides had to be right about one thing."

"What's that?" the Herald said warily.

"We are supposed to be here to negotiate on Jason's behalf. Maybe we should at least show up."

                                                            * * *

Lunch was delicious. Pastius had done them proud, completing the meal with a marvellous selection of desserts; from baklava to birds made from spun sugar.  After the meal, the delegates returned once more to the negotiations, this time joined by Hercules, Iolaus and Aethalides. Iolaus had changed into a deep red tunic with fanciful black embroidery that matched the design on his black breeches. Hercules noted irritably that his tunic was long enough to cover the essentials, but didn't comment. Iolaus would probably tease him, assuming he actually heard Hercules say anything. The hunter was definitely not on the same plane as anyone else as he sat relaxed at the end of the table with his blue eyes focused on nothing in particular. He was obviously bored out of his mind by the constant arguments of the delegates. 

At least they only had to deal with the main core of the delegates, Hercules reflected as he absently cracked a handful of nuts and ignored the longing looks Iocastus gave him. The other guests of the Gatehouse seemed to be lackies and hangers on, there only to make the Ambassadors look good by numbers and wealthy display.

Dulcina's fingers drummed impatiently on the table. "I would have thought the problem was obvious," she exclaimed irritably. "Everyone knows that Cochea exports the best furs in Greece. I refuse to accept that the sudden market glut could be caused by anything other than furs taken from Cochean lands."

"Are you implying that our hunters are crossing into Cochea to hunt?" Mollius snapped icily.

"Yes," Dulcina replied curtly. "It's a well known fact that Snow Hydras are only found on our side of the mountains where the snow levels are at their highest."

"They’ve been crossing into Cyrene all winter," Mollius said indignantly.

"Nonsense."

"Are you calling me a liar?"

Dulcina hesitated.  "Of course not, Ambassador. You obviously know very little about hunting so…"

"As much as you do," Mollius shot back. "Snow Hydras are on our side of the mountain. What are we supposed to do? Let them roam free, killing our animals and our people? The treaty permits us to kill strays."

"Strays!" Dulcina sat forward in outrage. "More than a few strays are involved! We've seen the pelts!"

"Ah, so you admit you have spies in Cyrene!" Mollius leaned forward, meeting her glare with one of his own.

"If I might say something?" Aethalides murmured hastily, fearing that they might actually come to blows. 

"If you must," Orides sighed. He looked and sounded as bored as Iolaus.

"Surely our main concern should be the border raids," the Herald said carefully.

Mollius sniffed. "I refuse to ignore an insult…."

"I am sure the border raids are caused by a rogue warband," Astrid commented.

"And I refuse to ignore clear violations of border treaties," Dulcina growled. "Our treaty specifically mentions that no hunting it to be carried out across the border. Snow Hydras are rare enough as it is…."

"Speaking as hunter," Iolaus spoke up, startling them all into looking at him. "This has been a long hard winter in Cochea. Snow Hydras stick to the peaks, yes, but they’re not entirely stupid. If I was hunting them, I'd look on the Cyrene side of the mountains where the foraging for them would be better." He looked casually from Dulcina to Mollius and back again.  "If I was you Madam Ambassador, I would be asking your hunters and trappers where they think their prey is to be found. I might also wonder which side of the border they’re hunting too."

There was a long silence. Mollius looked triumphant and Dulcina was flushing, clearly angry but considering Iolaus' comments.  Orides was watching the blond warrior thoughtfully; a faint hint of approval in his eyes.

Hercules smiled to himself. Too many people underestimated his friend and he enjoyed seeing Iolaus put one over on them. "When the weather improves, they'll move back to the Cochea side of the mountain," he agreed.

"Back to their home territories," Iolaus nodded. 

"You've hunted them then, have you?" Orides asked curiously. "I'm a bit of a hunter myself. Never gone after a Snow Hydra though."

Iolaus flicked a quick look at Hercules. "You could say we've tackled a Hydra or two along the way, yes," Hercules said dryly. "It's hardly an honour I’d fight over. The fewer of the damn things there are, the better if you ask me."

"They’re not as sneaky as Sand Sharks though. And Sand Sharks hunt in packs," Iolaus added.

"Always fancied having a go for a Sand Shark," Orides mused.

"Are we here to discuss hunting or peace treaties?" Iocastus demanded primly.

"Not a hunting man, hmmh?" Orides asked, looking down his nose at him.

"I abhor violence," Iocastus sniffed.

"I certainly don't see the point of hunting some poor hapless animal," Astrid sniffed.

"I'd hardly call a Snow Hydra harmless," Mollius muttered.

"Trophies, my dear, Astrid. Trophies," Orides told her.

"And you should know about those," Dulcina got in a dig at her rival the Caspian. "How many notches on your bedpost are there these days?"

Astrid's lips thinned. "I was talking about hunting," she said primly.

"So was I," Dulcina shot back.

"Ambassadors, please!" Aethalides yelped. He could see his peace talks degenerating rapidly into a war. "Let us concentrate on the border negotiations. Perhaps if I set out again the initial problems…."

Hercules sighed and folded his arms, settling back in his seat and exchanging a bored glance with Iolaus. There was too much talk and not enough action for his tastes. The delegates all seemed to be chasing each other in circles, deciding nothing as they indulged in their petty bickering. He could see no point in saying anything until they stopped backstabbing and got down to an actual discussion over the border treaties. Sooner or later someone would have to get to the point even if Aethalides had to drag them back to it kicking and screaming all the way.

                                                            * * *

"I swear Herc, ten more minutes of that lot babbling and I’d have stabbed someone myself!" Iolaus exclaimed as he arched his back, stretching every muscle and limb like a cat. Aethalides had finally called a halt to the discussions for the day before the Ambassadors came to blows and Hercules and his partner had seized their chance to escape to the peace and quiet of their suite.

"They were…bickering a lot," Hercules admitted as he sprawled gratefully on his back on his bed, his arms folded behind his head. Eager to escape the confines of tight fabric, he had stripped his tunic off and the candlelight gleamed on the muscles of his chest.

"You mean arguing. And they weren't achieving anything," Iolaus snorted, plumping down on the foot of the bed.

"I think that most of the real discussions go on over dinner and drinks," Hercules said slowly. "It's only when they all sit down together that they fight each other. Kind of for the look of the thing, I guess.  Did you notice when Aethalides brought up the mutual trade agreement Jason suggested they pounced on it?"

"Like a pack of starving Hydras and chewed it, yeah…"

"But the suggestions they made…"

"Screamed…"

"Okay, screamed were valid ones. They'll go away and think about it and come back with answers," Hercules insisted. "They’re good, Iolaus, very good. I don't think Jason has much to worry about. Peace makes them all rich. They'll settle the border skirmishes between them."

"Astrid was serious about that rogue warband she mentioned."

Hercules inclined his head. "Yeah. Caspia is a fairly small city-state. It doesn't have a huge army. I think I’ll suggest Corinth offers to help them out with a few men. Jason needs something for his army to do. In return, Caspia can supply Corinth with some of that surplus grain Astrid mentioned." Hercules paused, giving his friend a suspicious look. "What are you grinning at?"

"Us," Iolaus answered in amusement. "Fine foot loose and fancy free heroes we're turning out to be. Aren't we doing exactly what you said the Ambassadors are doing? Discussing things in private like good little diplomats?"

Hercules opened his mouth to deny it and then chuckled ruefully, realising Iolaus was right. "Talking to you always makes things clearer," he told him.

"That's because I'm a genius," Iolaus said smugly, slapping Hercules' ankle. "I'm going to turn in. Good night, Herc."

"Good night, Iolaus," Hercules smiled and stretched lazily as Iolaus padded off to his own room. He hoped he was right about the Ambassadors. Peace was good for everyone and Jason would be pleased if the border disputes could be settled without Corinth having to bring down a heavy hand on its neighbours. Hercules only wished finding who and what had killed Neman and Flavius could be so easy.

                                                            * * *

Iolaus remembered the door. How he had come to be standing before it again, he didn't know. But he remembered it and was reluctant to open it. Gathering his courage, he started to back away then turned, but behind him the corridor was a menacing tunnel of shadowed gloom in which a few sparse candles gleamed like jagged teeth of light.

The door swung open almost silently, releasing a puff of rose scented air into the corridor. Unwillingly, he turned back to it, drawn inside by the promise of light.

She was waiting for him, clad now in a deep rose pink chiton with necklaces and bracelets of delicate gold and rose quartz. The room had changed; now the floor was covered in silvery grey and glossy black furs. In the middle of the floor was a raised, circular bed covered with sheets of black watered silk that seemed to ripple as the soft golden candle light shone over it.

"Come to me," she whispered, holding out a slender hand to him. Her eyes glowed with inner fire, luring him into their green gold shimmer.

Somehow, Iolaus stood his ground, feeling a tremor of trepidation run through him. "Who are you?" he blurted.

"You know who I am," she purred, lowering her hand with a faint look disappointment.

"All right then, what are you?" Iolaus pressed stubbornly.

"Everything you want me to be." She let her fingers drift to the single golden brooch at her shoulder, releasing it with the flick of a rose pink nail. The chiton slipped from her shoulders, slithering over her smoothed golden shoulders and down to her waist, clinging momentarily to her hips in seductive allure before it drifted like feathers to the floor to pool around her bare feet.

"Come to me," she repeated. "I yearn for you. I long for your touch…" This time she held out both hands to him, her eyes shining with desire.

Iolaus almost took a step towards her, then he shook his head and felt his hair tickling his bare shoulders. Startled he looked down, somehow unsurprised to find himself dressed simply in a pleated white kilt. A belt of gold circled his waist that was studied with polished cabochons of sapphire and amethyst. A matching collar wrapped his throat and bracers completed the set.

"This isn't real," he protested, tugging at a bracer and finding it all but welded to his skin.

"It can be," she purred, sashaying towards him. "I can give you anything you desire. Wealth, women, fame…" Her voice dropped huskily became even more sensual and provocative. "Love…."

Iolaus lifted his head and looked at her as she came to him, sinking into the ocean depths of her eyes. It would be so easy to fall into those eyes, to let himself be washed away by the sensuous tides of her existence….

"Touch me, come to me…." Her hands reached out, hovering over his chest and from somewhere Iolaus found the strength to step back and avoid her touch. The door behind him had disappeared and he sidled along the wall, staying out of her reach as she glided after him.

"You still haven't told me your name," he said nervously.

"Tell me yours," she bargained.

Iolaus came to a halt, cornered by the bed. He flashed a quick look round, estimating his chances of making a quick lunge across the bed to escape. She was took quick for him, closing in swiftly so that she stood close against him, her nearness mesmerising him. She seemed to be growing more beautiful, her skin taking on a lustre that made him yearn to touch her. "What do you want from me?" he forced out, his voice thick with the effort to resist her.

"What does it matter?" she said softly as she cupped his hands to his jaw and drew him towards her soft raspberry lips.

"It matters!" Iolaus jerked his head away, his senses spinning with confusion. All his masculine instincts urged him to succumb to her loveliness, to let her charms hold sway and allow himself to give in to her…

"I can give you eternity," she whispered as her lips brushed against his jaw like velvet. "The whole of eternity to do as you please. You could rule the world. Come, be my love…"

"I don't know you," Iolaus protested as her fingers traced the edge of his belt, tugging the fabric up his thigh.

"But you can. Give me your name, share yourself with me…"

"I don't want to know you," Iolaus forced out and shoved her away from him. She fell backwards onto the bed, laughing as he staggered drunkenly, struggling to get to the door and feeling as if he waded through waist deep mud.

"Oh no, my warrior, you cannot leave me," she told him as he fell his knees, his senses thudding and reeling. He clawed at the bed, pulling himself up to his feet and taking a shaky but determined step towards the door. She came to him with shocking speed, yanking him backward onto the mattress and pinning him there. She perched astride his hips, her eyes sharp as a bird's as she studied him. "You are stronger than I thought," she murmured as her nail tips traced strange symbols on his bare chest.

Her touch burned him, branding him. "Get off me!" Iolaus struggled, twisted under her as he fought to throw her off. For a slender woman she was incredibly heavy, crushing him into the mattress.

"But I will possess you," she decided, her nails raking his skin. With a blur of movement, her long fingered hand closed on his throat and squeezed tight, half choking him as she turned his head to one side.

"No," Iolaus protested in horror as her lips folded back from her mouth, displaying long needle fine teeth. He shook his head wildly, frantic to escape as she leaned closer to him, her dark hair falling like a curtain around him and shutting out the light as her fangs sank slowly an painfully into his throat…

                                                            * * *

"Aethalides! Do something! He's choking!" Hercules yelled in terror at the Herald. The demi-god had been roused when he heard Iolaus cry out; a sound half pain, half fear. Fearing that the killer was attacking his friend, Hercules had raced to the rescue only to find Iolaus twisting and feverish among his sheets but with no sign of any physical attacker.  He had wasted a few moments attempting to calm and wake his friend without success, feeling Iolaus growing hotter under his hands. Alarmed, Hercules had rung for a servant and sent the sleepy eyed young man who appeared racing for the Herald.

Now Aethalides leaned over the bed, his slender hands rapidly examining the feverish hunter. "He's not choking," he said firmly.

"He sounds like he is."

"I know how he sounds but he isn't," Aethalides said firmly. "This is some kind of magic spell…Hush, Iolaus….lie still…."

Hercules shot a wary look around him, half expecting to see some monster looming up out of the shadows. "Then break it," he demanded urgently.

Aethalides ran one hand through his copper hair and stepped back. "I wish I knew how," he muttered grimly.

Hercules grabbed him, his fingers digging cruelly into the Herald's arm.   "There has to be something you can do," he insisted.

Aethalides tugged at his arm, giving him a pointed look. Meeting the worry in Hercules' blue eyes though he could remember all too clearly Hercules' pain when they thought they had lost Iolaus to the Elysian Fields because of the venom of the Chaos spider. Aethalides knew that Hercules would never forget that emotional agony and despair and would do anything to avoid facing it again. The demi-god wasn't quite rational on the subject of Iolaus' life. He would have fought Hades himself to save him. "Please, Aethalides," Hercules begged, self consciously releasing his grip.

Aethalides nodded and turned away, chewing his lower lip as he reached for the magic kit that was never far from his side while he was at the Gatehouse. He had felt the forces swirling around him the moment he entered its doors and was reluctant to challenge whatever sentience the building had achieved with his own small magics.  He had the feeling that if he did something that the Gatehouse considered a threat in any way, it would cost him dearly. He wouldn't put it past the Gatehouse to accidentally drop a roof beam on him.

But there was the look of desperation in Hercules' blue eyes…

And there was Iolaus tossing and moaning in restless fever on the bed, fighting some invisible presence pressing down over him.

They were both his friends and he owed them more than words would ever say….

Aethalides frowned, his curiosity captured as he watched the movements of Iolaus' hands as he fought the air, wrestling with something in his dreams. He glanced at Hercules, seeing that his fellow demi-god had also caught the movements.

Hercules eased closer to the bed, stretching out his own hands to skim through the air above his friend's fever wracked body. Static crackled where his hands passed, making the hairs on his arms stand up on end. He flinched, feeling it bite and crackle at his fingers, but there seemed to be a shape forming from the air under his touch; liquid smooth, as if water had taken shape…

Hercules jerked suddenly and dropped to his knees, his mouth opening in a gasp of astonishment and mild pain and his eyes rounding and dilating blackly as the power flowed out of him, making his hair rise and crackle like a lion's mane around his head. 

 Aethalides stared in dismay and tipped his magic kit upside down on the floor, groping frantically through the scattered contents.

"Hurry….." Hercules rolled his eyes towards him, sagging against the side of the bed as his hands remained trapped within a shimmering nimbus of energy that linked him to Iolaus and the squirming something in the air above them both.

Grabbing a clay pot of ointment, Aethalides thrust his fingers into it, rubbing it urgently over his hands then snatched at another pot, emptying several twists of dried herbs into it and topping it up with salt. Turning back to the bed, he cupped the pot in both hands and lifted it high.

"Hecate, Hecate, oh hear me, mistress of the night, mistress of the creatures that walk in darkness, hear me, your supplicant! Rid us of this evil that stalks our souls!"  Aethalides felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end as the Gatehouse stirred around him. He felt it somehow focus on him, then a familiar tingle swept through him and he lowered the pot, taking a pinch of the powdery leaves within and scattering them over Hercules' bowed head as the demi-god rested his forehead weakly against the bed. The rest he scattered over Iolaus, chanting softly, "I command thee to show yourself, evil one…"

The herbs sizzled in the air, burning as they fell, turning to dust before they could touch Iolaus' perspiring body. In front of Aethalides' eyes the shadowy shape he had half seen, half sensed took form; a willowy, curved body of solidified air that was impossibly slender and subtly wrong to the eye of the beholder. It shimmered and quivered under the rain of herbs, fighting not to manifest as Aethalides called on it. 

"In the name of Hecate I banish thee, in the name of Hecate I command you begone…."

It screamed, a shrill glass cracking sound that made Aethalides gasp in pain and jerk away as the creature manifested. For a split second it was there on the bed; translucent, yet black as deep water, solid as a shadow. It reared up, female in form but somehow not. Its face was impossible to focus on, but still Aethalides knew it was beautiful. Dark hair streamed around it like seaweed in a current. Then it screamed in rage, throwing open a mouth that was full of fangs and destroying the illusion of beauty as a cold wind swept through the room, tearing the creature to shreds with its icy teeth as the spell arrived. Scraps of shadow evaporated on the wind, blowing away into nothing.

Aethalides stumbled back, clinging to the end of the bed as the glacial wind took his breath away. He felt drained, weak as if he hadn't eaten in too long. His senses swam and distantly he felt the anger of the Gatehouse, rumbling like the hooves of the horses of Hades on a far off plain.

It was a long time before he could move, shakily releasing his grip on the bed to look around him. Hercules was lying on the floor, curled into a ball beside the bed. Iolaus was lying sprawled on his back among the sheets twisted around his bare hips. Perspiration glinted in gold drops on his skin where the candlelight touched him. But he was lying quiet and his breathing was slow and even as if he slept.

Aethalides forced himself to circle the bed and lean over Hercules, touching the demi-god's bare shoulder and giving him a cautious shake. He straightened up hastily, feeling his own balance waver. Hercules moaned and stirred, lifting his head slowly. His eyes were still dilated and glazed and he tilted his head as if having difficulty in focusing on the Herald. "What? Who…?"

"Me," Aethalides told him, surprised by how thick his voice sounded. He didn't have the energy to say more.

"Iolaus…" Hercules turned from the Herald, pushing up on his knees to flop against the edge of the bed and peer at his friend. He squinted at the hunter, watching him breath. "What?" he repeated at last, looking up at Aethalides as the Herald slumped into a chair beside the bed.

"I drove it off….I think." Aethalides still wasn't quite sure what had happened. He had felt the magic stir, yes. He had distracted whatever it was from its attack, yes. But he wasn't sure he had driven it away. 

Hercules slumped, resting his head on the bed covers. "So tired…." He mumbled.

"Yes…." Aethalides agreed with him. "It drained us…" Reaching out, he touched Iolaus' shoulder, feeling his skin icy under his fingertips. "He's cold now…"

"Mmmh." Hercules reached out and caught at Iolaus' wrist, tugging at him. "C'mon, wake up…Iolaus!"

Iolaus twitched and stirred, opening glazed eyes. He looked at Hercules without recognition for a long moment, his eyes drifting past him to Aethalides. "Was asleep…What…is it?" he mumbled wearily.

"Don't ask…move over…." Hercules crawled onto the bed with him, flopping down beside the hunter. "Warm…" Iolaus whispered and rolled over to burrow against the bigger man. Hercules grunted, folding his arms around him and resting his chin on top of Iolaus' golden haired head.

"Ahhh…." Aethalides murmured mockingly.

"Don't…" Hercules rumbled in warning as Iolaus' breathing evened quickly out into the quiet rhythms of exhausted sleep. He seemed to be having trouble keeping his eyes open and focused.

Aethalides frowned. "It was the Lamia…" he warned, feeling the weariness creep up on him too. Hercules didn't answer; he was already asleep like Iolaus.  "And then there was one," the Herald groaned, realising he had been left on guard. Forcing himself out of the chair, he rummaged through the scattered contents of his magic kit and found a paper twist of herbs, then mixed them into a goblet of wine from the three-quarters full decanter that had been left for the hunter.

Sipping the restorative as he returned to his chair and his vigil, Aethalides could feel his senses clearing and his strength returning. He would give Hercules some of the herbs when he woke up; knowing his strength and stamina it probably wouldn't be long. Iolaus, mortal and therefore far more vulnerable and susceptible to the Lamia, would probably sleep straight through. But for now, Aethalides wanted to be alert and on guard against the creature should it decide to return to its prey. He could only hope its hunger had been sated for a while. He didn't think he could fend it off again. And if it chose to feed off Iolaus again, the hunter wouldn't survive for long.

                                                            * * *

Baffled, Iolaus looked from one to the other of his companions, puzzled as to why they both looked as if they'd been wrung out to dry. "I don't remember any of this," he said doubtfully as he chewed a fresh bread roll spread liberally with honey. They were alone in the dining room the following morning, waiting for the delegates to stir themselves from their beds. Aethalides had been describing what had happened during the night, much to Iolaus' wide-eyed disbelief. The hunter had roused at sunrise; wide-awake if not quite his usual bouncy self. Finding Hercules in his bed hadn't exactly put him in a good mood. Being promptly shoved out of bed by the highly indignant warrior before he had a chance to wake up hadn't put Hercules in a very good one either and Aethalides' laughter hadn't helped. All in all they were all feeling somewhat disgruntled and sleep deprived.

"You wouldn't," Hercules muttered, struggling to stay awake long enough to drink the herbal restorative Aethalides had given him. He suspected the Herald had deliberately put a little something extra in it to make it taste foul. Either that or something had slept in his mouth.

"Are you sure you sure you’re not making it up?" Iolaus wondered, looking warily from one to the other of them.

Aethalides gave them both a red eyed look. "I remember it," he grumbled. "I had to stay awake and guard the pair of you." He gave Hercules a pointed look for good measure.

Iolaus frowned, taking a sip of his well-watered wine. "All right. So you think something attacked me?" he said slowly.

"We know something attacked you. The question is what," Hercules retorted grimly.

"That was going to be my next question," Iolaus admitted.

"Why is a better one," Aethalides corrected acidly. "Obviously it was the Lamia."

"Why obviously?" Hercules wanted to know as he gnawed on a roll.

"Can you think of anything else in this place that would want Iolaus for supper?"

"Iocastus?" Hercules suggested dryly.

"Breakfast maybe, or as dessert. He wants you for supper," Aethalides said slyly. Hercules glared at him, a slow blush rising like sunrise to colour his face.

Iolaus sighed, taking another roll from the basket. Sooner or later they would get back to him. "All I had was a bad dream," he commented as he piled bacon into his roll. "I've had a lot of them since I've been here…" He paused thoughtfully and half-shrugged. "Some of them when I've been awake…"

"That isn't funny," Hercules scolded him.

"Who was being funny?" Iolaus gave him a cool look. "I feel like I'm being watched all the time."

Aethalides frowned. With the Gatehouse, that was entirely possible. Iolaus was one of those rare mortals that seemed to have a genuine sixth sense, which suggested there was probably a randy demi-god somewhere in his bloodline. "Something snacked on you and Hercules last night," he said firmly.

"I feel okay," Iolaus protested, self consciously putting his fingers up to touch his throat. He had a feeling that it should be sore, but wasn't. "A little tired maybe, but…" He shrugged again.

"Interesting," Aethalides murmured.

"That's not what I'd call it," Hercules grumbled. "I feel like I went several rounds with a Hydra….and lost."

"Maybe that's why," Aethalides said thoughtfully. He glanced at Iolaus. Although the hunter looked a little paler than normal, it was as if he had merely slept badly. He was nowhere near as exhausted as Hercules looked. "Iolaus was fighting it. When you interfered…." Hercules glared at him but the Herald pressed on determinedly, "…perhaps it decided to feed off you and it transferred some of that energy to Iolaus.  According to the legend that's how it's supposed to sustain and prolong its master's life; like a symbiant. It feeds the master that protects it." Iolaus' blue eyes boring into him in alarm brought the Herald to a halt.

"No one's suggesting that you’re willing," Hercules said quickly, reading his partner's expression. Iolaus turned his gaze on him and he didn't look reassured. "You don't have a choice in it. It's picked you."

"Yes…." Aethalides said very, very slowly.

Iolaus' eyes swivelled back to the Herald. "So I'm supposed to put up with this thing killing people on my behalf? This is supposed to please me?"

"We'll find a way to stop it," Hercules promised, putting his hand on the hunter's shoulder.

"How?" Iolaus demanded bluntly. "You haven't even found out who killed Neman yet."

Hercules gave him a hurt look for that and after a moment, Iolaus turned away and ducked his head in chagrin.

"All right, all right, I didn't really mean that," he mumbled sheepishly.

"It's the Lamia talking," Hercules guessed, giving him a consoling look.

"Do you always have to be so understanding?" Iolaus complained sulkily, but his eyes were grateful.

"It isn't always easy," Hercules said wryly.

"I need to take a look at Neman's things," Aethalides said into the silence that followed. "You two should stay with the delegates."

"So now you want to get rid of both of us?" Iolaus snapped irritably.

"No, I want the pair of you in a crowd so the Lamia will leave you alone. It's fed now so it's probably resting somewhere, but on the off chance it isn't…"

"If it's asleep somewhere, we can track it," Hercules said hopefully. "And kill it…"

"You can't track something that doesn't leave tracks," Aethalides reminded him coolly. He noticed that Iolaus was watching Hercules suddenly, clearly more worried by the thought that Hercules might be in danger from the Lamia than concerned for his own safety. That was typical Iolaus and it made Aethalides feel better. As long as Iolaus was fretting over Hercules' safety the Herald could be sure he hadn't been substituted for a Lamia changeling. "It's a spirit. That why I want to go through Neman's things. If it was trapped in that vase and he was looking for a way to use it, then I hope he would have had the sense to find a way to destroy it if it got away from him."

"The knife," Hercules said thoughtfully.

"Exactly. I wish I could translate the carvings."

"Maybe Astrid could," Iolaus suggested. "She told me she was into antiques."

"It can't hurt to ask her," Hercules agreed, grabbing the last bread roll before Iolaus could get to it. "I'm sure she’ll do anything for Iolaus."

Iolaus blushed. "So would Iocastus for you," he shot back.

Aethalides sighed heavily, nibbling on his own honey bread and hoping they would stop bickering before the delegates arrived. He could hear them heading their way already.

                                                            * * *

"When I said I’d check Neman's things, I meant I’d check Neman's things. On my own?" Aethalides gave the little group hovering in the doorway to Neman's room a pointed look. He had opened it to a polite knock, expecting Astrid. Instead he had got the whole delegation.

Iolaus had asked Astrid to look at the murder weapon and she had agreed on condition that he went with her. Where Iolaus went Hercules naturally followed. Orides had invited himself along since it involved Neman and he was suspicious of what they were up to. Mollius had followed because he had a streak of paranoia a mile wide where any of the other Ambassadors were concerned. Dulcina had joined in because she didn't trust any of them and Iocastus seemed to have come along out of sheer curiosity and the chance to watch Hercules.

"There isn't room for everyone," Orides observed impatiently, glaring at his fellow Ambassadors. "Why don't you all wait outside?"

"Good idea. Why don't you join us?" Iocastus retorted, meeting his eyes coolly.

"Neman was a fellow Ethican and this is my suite. I have a right to be here," Orides snapped.

"I'm not leaving if everyone else stays," Mollius said firmly.

"I was invited," Astrid reminded them all primly.

"And what's so special about you?" Dulcina shot at her.

"Intelligence," Astrid replied. "I can read those carvings. Can you?"

Dulcina flushed angrily.

"Please, let's not argue," Hercules said hastily.

"We weren't arguing," Orides sniffed. He was resplendent in rose pink satin hose with a sky blue tunic this morning. It made Hercules' senses ache simply looking at him. Iolaus kept staring at the Ethican's rose pink leather shoes, fascinated by the tiny blue pompoms on them that matched the tunic.  "We were discussing."

"Look, you can all wait outside," Aethalides snapped impatiently. "In fact if you’re all so damn nosy, you can all go back and wait in the main room and I'll bring the dagger there then you can all gawk at it."

There was a miffed silence at this explosion from the mild mannered Herald. Orides was the first to stir. He left without a word and one by one the others followed him, gently herded out by Hercules who closed the door behind him. Aethalides let out a slow, shaky breath, realising that he was trembling with barely suppressed fury.

"You okay, Aethalides?" Iolaus had lingered, coming up close to the Herald's side for moral support.

"I have one nerve left and they're getting on it," Aethalides whispered. "Why does everything have to be such a mess?!"

"You're worried that this will all go wrong and Jason will blame you? You know better," Iolaus said quietly. He grinned wickedly. "He'll blame me."

Aethalides stared at him for a second and then laughed. "Thanks, Iolaus. You always know how to put things in perspective."

"It's part of my natural charm," the hunter said easily. "Um, Jason won't blame me, will he?"

"You know he won't," Aethalides chuckled. "You’d better….uh huh, thought so…" Hercules had pulled the door open and stuck his head in, looking for Iolaus.

"Okay, okay, I'm coming," Iolaus said quickly, trotting over to join the demi-god. "What? You couldn't smooze them on your own?"

"If I have to put up with them, I don't see why I should do it on my own," Hercules retorted. "Aethalides? You okay here?"

"I'm looking forward to the peace and quiet," the Herald replied pointedly. "Why don't you fetch the knife from Pastius?

"Hey, we're out of here!" Hercules said quickly, grabbing Iolaus before he could say another word and hustling him out of the room.

A muffled silence fell as the door closed and Aethalides let out a slow breath. He had already searched Neman's private room where the body had been found and found nothing of any interest. Persuading Orides to let him search Neman's part of the suite had taken longer and, if the Herald had been a suspicious man, he would have noted that the delay had given Orides plenty of time to make his own search.

Shaking his head, Aethalides got on with it. His bloodlines had given a natural talent for intrigue and he sometimes thought he would have made a good spy. Either way, he was good at finding hiding places and spotting the overlooked so he hoped if Orides had searched the room he would find something the Ethican had missed.

                                                            * * *

"So this is the dread dagger," Astrid observed a while later, studying the knife with its ornate black hilt as Hercules placed it on the table in front of her. They were gathered in the salon beside the meeting room where the talks were being held. Hercules had persuaded Pastius to fetch the dagger for them and now they were waiting for Aethalides to show up.  "Would you like me to translate it now?"

"We should wait for Aethalides," Hercules said firmly. "And Iocastus. Has anyone seen him? Iolaus?" The Parthian seemed to have vanished, wandering off while the others delegates made their way to the salon.

Iolaus shrugged. He had stayed with the delegates to make sure there was no trouble while Hercules located Pastius. "He went to his room. I could hardly stop him."

"Did he say why?"

"Said he'd forgotten something."

"I hardly see that it is any of your concern where he is or why," Orides observed dryly from where he leaned against the fireplace mantle and sipped his wine. "Unless of course…."

"I simply want everyone where I can see them," Hercules snapped. "Someone here is a murderer who may choose to make a target out of one you. Plus there's a Lamia loose. It's foolish to wander off alone."

"You don't seem terribly concerned about leaving your friend alone," Orides sneered.

"Aethalides can look after himself," Hercules replied coldly.

"Meaning that Iocastus can't?" Orides queried slyly.  "Why are you so worried about him, Hercules?"

Because I trust him as far as I can throw him, Hercules thought grimly but he kept his mouth shut. Insulting an Ambassador was not going to help things, however much the man richly deserved it. And that went for Orides too. 

"Surely" Orides shot a glance around him at the others. "Those stories about Thebans aren't true…"

"Some of them are," Iolaus observed sweetly, fluttering his eyelashes at the Ethican. "Like our pride. Like the fact that we'll tear your throat out if you insult us…"

Orides shot a sharp look at him, his lip curling as he prepared a hot retort. But something in the way Iolaus looked at him made him hesitate and think twice.  He hadn't got to be a highly influential Ambassador to his King by being stupid. Fair haired and blue eyed Iolaus might be, but his eyes held the look of trouble for the asking.

"Why don't I make a start on translating this while we wait?" Astrid purred. "It will probably take me a few minutes anyway…"

"Go ahead," Hercules said grimly, grateful for the way Iolaus moved to his side to present a united front to the delegates. "If Aethalides and Iocastus don't show up soon, I'm going to go look for them," he whispered to his partner.

"Why, Hercules, I didn't know you cared," Iocastus purred, overhearing the remark as he glided into the room behind them. "Where have you been all my life?"

"For most of it I hadn't been born," Hercules snapped.

"Ooh, so masterful," Iocastus simpered. "Don't you know older men are so much better? We have wealth, refinement, experience…"

"Where were you?" Hercules interrupted in desperation to shut him up. He could feel Iolaus watching him blush in fascination.

"You mean for all your life? Well, now, I was born…"

Hercules gritted his teeth. He really didn't want to hear Iocastus' life history; especially with everyone smirking at him knowingly. "Iolaus said you went to your room…"

"Quite right. Would you like me to show it to you?"

"Why did you go there?"

Iocastus pouted and touched a bejewelled oval black pendant around his throat. It glowed against the blood red silk tunic he wore, its long bell sleeves flowing over his hands. "I forgot my little amulet. It's a mere trinket, but it's supposed to protect me. Care to have a closer look?" He leaned forward and Hercules leaned back, resisting the urge to drag Iolaus between them with an effort.

"Fine. Sit down," he ordered instead.

Iocastus gave him a slow look and sauntered over to pour himself a goblet of wine instead. He fell into polite conversation with Mollius and Dulcina. Orides continued to watch everyone, his eyes never missing a thing. Astrid's attention was fixed firmly on the knife, her lips moving as she struggled with translating the carvings.

"Herc?"

"Yeah?"

"That amulet? It looks a bit like the knife," Iolaus whispered. "I wonder what's on the other side? More carvings?"

"If you think I'm going to go over there and ask him, you can think again," Hercules said flatly.

Iolaus however was serious. "Why take that much a risk to fetch a trinket even if it is a protective amulet? That's the kind of thing you always wear. You don't leave it lying around if you believe in it."

Hercules glanced at him thoughtfully, aware of the way his partner's fingers had gone self consciously to his own talisman that he wore under his deep purple tunic. "Good point," he admitted, glancing round warily at the sound of a light footstep. It was Aethalides who walked in this time, looking serious. "You find anything?" Hercules asked hopefully as the Herald joined them.

"Only more questions. Neman had a whole selection of books on magic. And these…" He held up a cloth bag. "Carved stones. Some of the writings look like those on the knife…"

"Instructions to the vase maybe?" Iolaus suggested. 

"Astrid's translating the carvings on the dagger. Maybe she should see these too?" Hercules put in.

"That's what I was thinking. Madam Ambassador, I'm sorry to interrupt your concentration but these may be of use…" Aethalides started to empty the bag onto the cloth covered table, taking out several oval shaped black tablets.

"Those are Neman's," Orides said sharply. "Where did you find them?"

"Folded amongst his clothes," Aethalides answered smoothly. "Which answered one question for me."

"Which was?" the Ethican snapped.

"You didn't search his room. Or if you did, you don't know any magic. There was a minor spell on the bag to hide it."

"Why you, you…you dare to imply that I would…would…." Orides spluttered to a halt.

"Only in hopes of finding the clue to the killer, of course," Aethalides soothed. "Or perhaps merely to save Neman embarrassment. You were friends, weren't you?"

"We grew up together," Orides muttered then turned away and said nothing else.

"May I?" Astrid had turned her attention to the tablets. "Are they safe?"

"I removed the spell, so go ahead," Aethalides urged.

The Caspian promptly picked up the nearest tablet, turning it to the lamp she had placed on the table so she could see the carvings better.  A faint silvery shimmer crossed the surface of the stone as the light caught it.

"They don't look like much to me," Iocastus commented, peering over Iolaus' shoulder so he could see better.

"The most powerful magical objects rarely do," Aethalides observed. "You pick up the wrong rock and the next thing you know there's a horde of zombies chasing you." Hercules and Iolaus both gave him an exasperated look and the Herald smiled at them sweetly as he continued, "Ambassador, this notebook was also with the stones. It might be of use."

Astrid glanced up, taking the slim leather bound notebook from his fingers eagerly. "Yes, yes, quite, of course," she murmured in excitement, a scholarly light entering her intelligent eyes.

"What is?" Iocastus pressed closer, annoying Iolaus by pressing against his back to see better. Iolaus slipped aside, turning and bumping into the Parthian. With a low murmur of apology that Iocastus barely acknowledged as he leaned over the tablets, Iolaus moved out of the crush. "They’re quite beautiful, aren't they?" the Parthian went on. "Might I take a closer look? I have something of an interest in such things. I might be able to help."  When there were no objections, he picked up a tablet and examined it closely. Following his lead, Mollius and Dulcina joined in in picking up the tablets and examining them. Only Orides hung back, drinking his wine and scowling as he stayed aloof and disapproving.

Hercules folded his arms and did his best not to frown. Orides was acting very suspiciously, he noted. He was conspicuous in hanging back while the others examined Aethalides' discovery. On the other hand, Iolaus was acting suspiciously too as he lurked quietly in the background examining one of the tablets. Tablet? Hercules blinked and focused, shooting a sharp glance at Iocastus and then back again. Catching his eye Iolaus gave him an impish grin and turned his attention back to the amulet he had lifted from Iocastus' neck. Hercules nearly groaned in dismay as he realised what the warrior had done. No doubt Iolaus would cheerfully tell the Parthian he had dropped the amulet and he had found it for him. Iolaus was very good at making people believe that story; much to Hercules' frustration.

Astrid barely noticed the tablets being poked about as she concentrated, her lips moving as she read from the notebook under her breath.

"How's it going?" Aethalides asked tentatively, his curiosity getting the better of him.

The Caspian glanced up. "I can pick out a few of the symbols for myself but they're an ancient language that I know very little about," she said abruptly. "But Neman took excellent research notes and has done a perfectly good translation of the knife and the stones for himself."

Iocastus looked up alertly.  "Really? Who would have thought it?"

"Neman was a scholar," Orides said grimly. "I should never have brought him here."

"So, what does it say?" Mollius pressed, caught up in the discovery.

Astrid flipped to the front of the book. "The first section is on the vase itself." Her hazel green eyes flicked to Iolaus. "Apparently we were right in our supposition concerning the objects. It was indeed Egyptian in origin but it was found in Ethica in an underground tomb that had collapsed due to farming."

"Then how did the King get it?"  Iocastus asked edgily.

"All such discoveries are automatically the property of the King," Orides said stiffly. "In this instance, the tomb was actually found by two farm hands who thought to keep its contents for themselves. They were rumoured to have been attempting to sell what they found and had returned to the tomb to obtain more items to sell. When they failed to return to the village, a search party was formed and their bodies were found in the tomb; drained dry. Strangely enough, no one wanted to keep the treasure any more and it was handed over to the King."

"Drained dry?" Aethalides said sharply. "Like Flavius?"

Orides nodded once curtly.

"Why didn't you mention this before?" Hercules demanded.

The Ethican gave him an angry look, then slumped a little. "I didn't make the connection immediately," he admitted wearily. "And when I did, it seemed unimportant. You knew what it was and that it had been in the vase. What else was there to add?"

Hercules' fists balled in fury, but he knew the Ethican was right. Knowing the origin of the vase didn't help much, but it made him wonder what other secrets the Ambassador had been keeping.

Orides looked around at the other delegates and sighed. "Neman was obsessed with that vase and its secrets. He was furious with me for bringing him here. It was my idea for the King to present the vase as a gift to Corinth. Not because I knew it was dangerous, but because it was the only way I could think of to get it away from Neman. He had no choice but to obey the royal command." He shook his head and took a heavy gulp of his wine. "Our friendship seemed to mean nothing to him once he found the vase in the treasury."

"He may not have been able to help it," Aethalides said kindly. "The powers of a Lamia are addictive. That's how they survive."

"If they were at odds, they could have fought. Orides could have killed him!" Mollius exclaimed, fluttering in alarm the lacy handkerchief he had been using to wipe his hands.

Orides gave him an exasperated look. "Don't be ridiculous. I had nothing to gain. The mood Neman was in he was likely to attack me so I deliberately left him alone. When he was in one of his moods there was no reasoning with him."

"What kind of mood?" Hercules pressed.

"Touchy, withdrawn…He wanted to be alone with his vase," Orides shook his head again. "I should have known there was something unnatural going on." He waved the hand with his wineglass in it. "Allow Astrid to continue, she may have something of value to add."

Astrid nodded, her irritated expression at the interruption fading as she became the focus of attention again. Hercules glanced down at his partner as Iolaus appeared at his side.

"Give it back," he hissed at him.

"Soon," Iolaus assured him, rubbing his fingers of the silky smoothness of the stone. It made his skin tingle and itch every time he touched it. Part of him wanted to fling it away from him, another part wanted to caress it like a lover. He did his best to sound confident as he spoke, "The gems are a recent addition to make it look flashy. The symbols on the back are like the ones on the vase. And it's made from the same kind of stone."

"Sure?"

"As sure as I can be," Iolaus told him. "And there's something else; if those farm hands went looking for someone to buy what they found, then that someone may have come looking for the vase when they didn't show up to hand it over."

Hercules frowned. "And followed Neman here?"

Iolaus shrugged. "If it wasn't for Aethalides' wards, the killer could have been long gone."

"But the vase was smashed."

"A screw up," Iolaus said succinctly.  "Or maybe Neman threw it at him, or dropped it when he realised there was nothing he could do."

"He released the Lamia on purpose?"

"If he was its master it would have obeyed him, wouldn't it?" Iolaus asked. "Maybe he released it to protect him. Maybe he thought it could save him."

Hercules considered this, his blue eyes turning dark with thought. "And if it was trapped in the room, it would have had to obey its last order; to kill Neman's murderer before it could be free. That would explain why only Flavius was killed and why it didn't attack any of us. It only wanted out to fulfil its orders."

"Then maybe Flavius was the killer!" Iolaus wondered.

"He was with Iocastus, remember. No, Flavius was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It needed enough food to sustain it on its hunt." Hercules stretched out one hand and lightly touched the amulet Iolaus held. "Show that to Orides. See if he recognises it."

"What if he does?"

Hercules smiled darkly. "Then find out where he last saw it."

Iolaus considered this. "If it's Neman's then the killer took it. If it isn't, then we could have found the buyer?"

Hercules inclined his head. "Maybe. A sample of what was available to lure him in."

Iolaus looked over at Iocastus and shivered. "Herc, if Flavius was with him, then maybe that's why he was killed?"

"Yeah. He would have had Iocastus' scent on him. Go talk to Orides." 

Iolaus slipped away, heading for the Ethican as he stood morosely drinking by the fireplace. Hercules turned his attention back to the other delegates and Iocastus in particular. The Parthian had the notebook and was skimming through it rapidly, reading it for himself.

"Iocastus?" Hercules moved casually closer to the Ambassador.

Iocastus looked up, an unfocused look in his eyes. "Yes?"

"I have a few more questions that I need to ask," Hercules told him politely, glancing at Aethalides. Aethalides took his cue quickly.

"Perhaps we should wait outside then," he said swiftly.

"I'm sure that won't be necessary," Iocastus commented reassuringly.

"They are rather personal," Hercules said awkwardly.

"Like who I had in my bed the night Neman was murdered?" Iocastus replied coolly. "As I'm sure you know by now, it was Flavius. And yes, I did pay him to be there. And no, I don't know who killed him. He was there until shortly before breakfast. I fail to see what that has to do with anything."

"Convenient that he was killed too," Dulcina purred. "So he can't confirm if what you say is the truth."

Iocastus glared at her and tossed the notebook casually back on the table.

"Have you ever been to Ethica before?" Hercules asked quietly.

"No," Iocastus said flatly. "Why do you ask?"

Hercules smiled faintly. "Dulcina and Astrid obviously know each other. Dulcina, you know Mollius?"

"That's correct," Dulcina inclined her head gracefully.

"Do any of you know Lord Orides?" Hercules pressed.

Iocastus was starting to look more and more annoyed.

"I do," Mollius admitted. "We are old….acquaintances. I had met Neman in the past once also."

"And Iocastus?" Hercules continued.

"Well, no," Dulcina murmured.

"Never met the fellow," Orides put in, stalking back to join them with Iolaus beside him. There was a subdued expression on his face and Iolaus looked watchful.

"Ambassador Astrid?" Hercules prompted politely.

"Not until we arrived here," Astrid murmured. "But you are surely not suggesting…" She shook her head. "What exactly are you suggesting, Hercules?"

"That Iocastus may not be who he seems," Orides said grimly, glaring at the Parthian.

"But we were all introduced to him by Ambassador Aethalides," Mollius bleated.

Hercules flicked a glance at the Herald, waiting for his theory to be blown to pieces. Aethalides shook his head.

"He introduced himself to me. I had no reason to assume he was lying. He matched the messenger's description and he knew the password."

"Password?" Hercules echoed. "We didn't have a password."

"You didn't need a password. I knew who you are," Aethalides pointed out cheerfully. "It was 'By Zeus'."

"This is downright insulting!" Iocastus exclaimed. "Why would I be here if I wasn't who I say I am?"

"To obtain the vase?" Iolaus suggested quietly.

"Or to ruin the talks," Aethalides put in.

"I have done nothing to oppose them!"

"Or to help them," Orides pointed out. "Iolaus? Get on with it, man."

Iolaus shot a dirty look at him but stepped forward, holding out the amulet to Iocastus. "Yours I believe?"

Iocastus' hand shot instinctively to his neck, then he paled. "You…thief…." He hissed, outraged. "How dare you?! Give me that!" He stepped forward angrily and Iolaus nimbly stepped back, staying out of reach.

"You call me a thief? You took this from Neman's rooms, didn't you?"

"No!" Iocastus snarled.

"Yes. I’d recognise it anywhere," Orides said with a bitter half laugh. "I know it belonged to Neman because I arranged for the gems to be put on it for him so it would at least look expensive rather than like a bit of old pot! He kept it with him at all times. He always wore it."

Iocastus' eyes narrowed. "All right," he said slowly. "I admit that the amulet was his. But he sold it to me. I collect rare and unusual antiquities. He said he needed money."

"Lies," Orides said flatly. "Neman was a wealthy man. And he would never have parted with the amulet. He believed in its power too much."

"If you brought it, why didn't you say so immediately?" Aethalides asked sharply.

"Because I knew you’d immediately assume I'd killed him and I didn't. If Flavius was alive, he'd tell you I was with him."

"How convenient that he isn't," Iolaus commented sarcastically.

Iocastus moved towards him, glaring at the younger man angrily. "You’re quite the little troublemaker, aren't you?" he sneered bitterly.

"Not so much of the little," Iolaus shot back.

Hercules started to ease towards them, he didn't like the way things were going. They felt wrong. And he definitely didn't like having Iocastus that close to his partner. Aethalides started to drift closer too; on the same wave length as Hercules..

"Are you going to listen to these lies?" Iocastus demanded aloud, looking around at the resentful expressions of the other delegates. "Do you really believe that I could kill anyone?"

"Yes," Iolaus said quietly.

Iocastus met his gaze, a dangerous light flickering in his own eyes. Iolaus started to ease back a fraction, suddenly aware that he had let the man get too close. If Iocastus had been a warrior, he would never have let him get within range.

"What is the amulet for?" Mollius asked tentatively.

"Protection against the Lamia," Iocastus answered coolly. He held his hand out to Iolaus, holding his blue eyes captive with his own.  "Give it to me."

Unconsciously Iolaus held the amulet tighter, clutching it to his chest. "No," he refused, but he sounded uncertain.

 "You know you want to," Iocastus urged softly. "What it wants from you, you don't want to give. I've had the dreams too, Iolaus. But I can control it. You can't. The amulet will call the Lamia to you if you don't know how to stop it. You can feel it, can't you?"

Iolaus shivered, feeling the air thickening and darkening around them. He could taste his pulse in his mouth as the hair on the back of his neck stood on end.

Aethalides lifted one cupped palm as if he felt rain pool in his hand.  "Magic," he breathed and shot a worried look at Hercules. "Iocastus, whatever it is you’re doing, stop it. You don't know what you’re calling up." A puff of cold air breathed through the room, dousing half the candles and making the fire shudder and dim as if passed. There was a faint sight and a thud as Mollius keeled over in a faint.

"I know exactly what I'm doing, bard," Iocastus sneered, never looking away from Iolaus. "All my life I've studied Lamias and searched for the key to eternity. When those stupid farm hands came to me with one of those tablets, I knew they had stumbled across what I had been looking for. When they failed to come back with the rest, I tracked them. I found out that they'd been killed and that the King had the Lamia vase; the key to eternity itself.  I couldn't let the fool hand it over to Jason like a worthless old pot. So I killed the Parthian messenger and sent my own message then I took the Ambassador's place."

"Did you kill him?" Hercules asked grimly.

"Never saw the man," Iocastus replied shortly. "I suggest you tell your friend here to give me the amulet. I'm the only one here who knows how to control the Lamia."

"Don't do it, Iolaus," Aethalides said quickly. "He doesn't know the answer."

Iolaus licked dry lips, feeling that cold wind playing around him, ruffling his hair with playful fingertips and tickling the back of his neck. He knew it, knew its shape and feel and touch and clutched tighter at the amulet, feeling it impressing itself on his skin…

"Did you kill Neman too?" Hercules pressed.

"I went to reason with him, not kill him. But he gave me no choice. He wouldn't sell me the vase. We struggled. He started waving the dagger around." Iocastus lifted one shoulder in a shrug.  "I took it away from him and stabbed him. He threw the vase down. I think the fool thought the Lamia would save him. But I was too strong for it. It came under my control."

"If you control it," Hercules said carefully. "Why did you let it kill Flavius?"

"I didn't," Iocastus retorted. "It killed him on its own. Maybe it was hungry."

"Or maybe you wanted him killed because he knew you killed Neman," Hercules growled.

Iocastus' lips thinned. "If he thought he could use what little he knew against me, he was wrong," he said icily.

"So he did know…"

"He was gone when I returned. I assume he followed me out of curiosity. He would have guessed when he heard about Neman. I expected him to come to me that morning, but never saw him again alive. Now, give me the amulet, Iolaus." 

Iolaus shook his head, mute and wide eyed. His hand was starting to bleed where the gems cut into his fingers, but he couldn't let go. The stone seemed to be melding with his skin, but he couldn't feel a thing. His hand felt numb as if he had held a piece of ice for too long...

Everything around him seemed to be moving in slow motion; their voices were muffled as if drowned in the surf. The Lamia was with him and there was nothing he could do.

He was drowning and no one cared…

He cried out in the silence of his own head, screaming for help, crying out for someone to save him from the monsters.

And in the darkness something stirred and responded, reaching for him….

"Iolaus isn't going to give you the amulet," Aethalides said sharply. "Don't be a fool, Iocastus. If you know anything about Lamias and the spell that contained this one, then you know that its first aim is to kill you for killing its master. Isn't that why you left Neman without it?"

Iocastus' expression twitched. "It was angry. It needed time to calm down and recognise my mastery," he said slowly. "I didn't want to be found with the body. I left through the secret passage."

"So you left the Lamia on the loose and ran for it," Hercules said in disgust.

Iocastus turned his head enough to look at him from the corner of one eye. "You're too close, Hercules. Step back."

"Or what? You'll throw a tantrum?" Hercules sneered.

Iocastus' eyes glittered and his right hand moved in a flicking gesture, the silken sleeve slipping away from his hand as a stiletto blade from a wrist sheath slipped into his hand. Its point pricked the hollow of Iolaus' bare throat, drawing a bead of bright scarlet blood. "I'll kill him," he said simply. Iolaus blinked, seeming to recognise that something was happening but still not moving.

Hercules hesitated in mid lunge, his big hands clenching as he clutched helplessly at the air. Even with his reflexes he couldn't guarantee reaching Iocastus before he could ram the blade home.

"All I want is the amulet," Iocastus said reasonably.

"Then why don't you take it?" Hercules said bitterly.

"He can't," Astrid spoke quietly from behind them. She gestured at the tablets and notebook on the table before her. "The amulet can only be given…."

"Or taken from the body of its last owner," Iocastus snapped triumphantly.

"Then how did Iolaus manage to get his hands on it?" Aethalides questioned softly.

A flicker of confusion crossed Iocastus' face. "I'm not sure….I've never heard of that happening before…."

"We rule where you do not," Iolaus whispered, breathing it softly into his face. "We command where you cannot. The Lamia is mine and I am hers. And she is here…."

Iocastus paled. "I have not called her."

Iolaus' blue eyes glittered, shimmering with an unnatural silvery light reflected from something that only he could see. Ripples of light spread across his face as if from the sun on the water. In his mind she whispered, crooned….

Let her pass. We are the Gateway, she may pass but she may not stay. You shall name her Amashan… The words came from outside him and within him and other words shaped on his tongue. Her words. "Our last master's blood is on your hands. We can taste it…" he purred aloud.

Hercules shot a wild panic-stricken look at Aethalides, wondering what to do now. He might have held out for the forlorn hope that Iolaus was only acting if it hadn't been for that shimmering light. Aethalides looked as helpless as he felt.

"Send her away then," Iocastus hissed, his knuckles whitening as he tightened his grip on the stiletto. "Or I'll kill you. She can't prevent that any more than she could save Neman!"

"Do not anger us, mortal," Iolaus said, but the words seemed to stumble on his tongue. He shook his head sharply and for a second his eyes cleared, then the shadows rippled across his face once more and the ghostly shimmer returned. Where he had moved the blade had nicked his skin and blood trickled down his throat, a thin crimson rivulet that trickled over his collarbone and chest. In the corners of the room, the shadows stirred and twisted, flowing eagerly towards him like ripples of a dark tide.

"Iolaus! Don't fight her!" Aethalides yipped abruptly. "Let her come. Call to her."

"Are you nuts?!" Hercules yelped.

The Herald shook his head. "No, she wants vengeance. She won't hurt Iolaus unless he fights her. He's acting as her conduit somehow. I think, I feel, that maybe something's helping him. But he has to co-operate. He has to help it."

"She's hungry…" Iolaus whispered, as the light pulsed lovingly over his face. Shadows pooled around his feet, starting to coalesce.

"Call her and I’ll kill you," Iocastus whispered in terror.

"Do that and she will rip you apart," Aethalides warned. "Iolaus, can you name her? Do you know her?"

"Amashan…." Iolaus said softly. In response to his voice, the shadows boiled, surging upwards as the shimmering light poured downwards, pouring like a silver rain into the shadows. Where they touched, they writhed turning into mist that formed a colourless water like shape that somehow flowed upwards again like a wave, shaping and forming…

"No!" Iocastus screamed and lunged, grabbing Iolaus and pulling him across him like a shield, a barrier against the unknown. He held the knife across the hunter's throat, holding him captive as Hercules fumed helplessly, willing Iolaus to snap out of it and do something. Iolaus stood quietly, his eyes open but empty.

Between them the Lamia took shape, her body building itself out of light and shadow; a statuesque figure of gleaming water and silver that turned slowly solid and draped itself in a silver gown. Long hair sprouted and grew, tumbling down her slender shoulders to her waist. Hands lifted, smoothing it back as her face formed beneath the glossy brown tresses.  Lips of berry red parted as he eyes opened and focus came into them. "I am," she whispered and her voice was like the waves on the shore; soft and gentle now, but with the power to smash and destroy with the capriciousness of the sea.  "You have named me, master, and I am here. I am Amashan again." She held out her hands to Iolaus and he half lifted his own to take them.

Iocastus yanked at him, physically dragging the hunter backwards. "No," he spat. "If he accepts you in the mortal world, he becomes your master. I'm not that much of a fool!"

The Lamia's eyes drifted lazily to the Parthian and she licked a forked tongue over her lips, exposing dainty white fangs. She looked faintly annoyed for a second, then her face dropped back to its implacable beauty. "You are meat," she told him coolly. "Release the master or I will kill you slowly."

"You'll have to come through him first," Iocastus sneered. "I am your master. The amulet is mine. I took it from the body."

"You killed Master Neman. You cannot take his place. I have chosen this one," Amashan replied. Unhurried and calm, she turned her head and studied the others in the room. Her gaze wandered over the delegates without interest, then her liquid silver green eyes settled on first Hercules and then Aethalides before she turned back to focus on Iolaus. "The mortals may leave. I may snack on them later," she said offhandedly. "The demi-gods will stay. It has been long since I tasted the sweet blood of demi-gods."

"Oh, that is so not reassuring," Hercules whispered.

Aethalides took a step back, gesturing at the delegates to retreat.

"Damn it, what kind of a coward do you take me for?" Orides exclaimed angrily. "The women and that wimp Mollius can go. I'll stay."

Amashan turned her head to look at him and flicked a hand towards him. Orides was plucked from his feet and hurled across the room, tossed through the doors that swung open before a blast of icy wind.

Dulcina and Astrid exchanged a look, then grabbed the unconscious Mollius by an arm each and dragged him towards the doors. The Lamia ignored them, turning her gaze longingly back to Iolaus.

"Hercules," Astrid called as she helped roll Mollius into the corridor. "The knife….It has to be wielded by a mortal master to…."

Amashan flicked her hand again and the doors crashed shut, shutting the delegates outside and silencing Astrid's warning. "I will allow no interference," she announced coolly as her eyes bored into Iocastus. "You will release the Master now."

"You can't get to him unless you want me to kill him," Iocastus bargained. "I will make you a much better master. I understand you. He doesn't. Do you know how long I've spent looking for you?"

Amashan's eyes were almost sorrowful as she gazed at him. "Not as long as I have spent enslaved to your kind," she answered and there was a dark undercurrent to her voice. "Once I had freedom. Once I roamed where I willed and preyed on the sailors that intruded upon my world. I could call to a man's soul and name him mine."

Aethalides drew in a sharp breath of alarm. "She's a Siren," he breathed in dismay.

"Siren, Lamia, call me as you will," she replied without looking at the Herald. "I am Amashan and I was powerful." Her eyes glittered like sea slicked pebbles. "I shall be powerful again."

"How did," Hercules swallowed and had to start again. "How did you become trapped?"

Amashan glanced at him. "You think to fool me, Hercules? You look surprised that I know your name. But then I know many things. I know your weakness. I know that the master would not betray you even in his dreams. I know how important you are to him. But how important is he to you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Give me this one," she turned her glittering gaze on Iocastus. "I want his life. I want to hold his soul in my hand."

"I can't do that," Hercules protested.

"But you want to," Amashan purred triumphantly. "A part of you says he deserves it after what he has done. You are enraged that he should treat your friend so. I can feel your anger, Hercules. Like a storm at sea it rises up within you. A dark and powerful storm that will sweep all before it. Release it, Hercules, and follow me."

"Never," Hercules refused, his teeth clenching on the anger he felt.

"You didn’t answer his question, Amashan," Aethalides put in quietly.

The Lamia looked at him slowly. "It is of no importance."

"He asked you. You must answer."

Her eyes darkened with rage. "Ares," she hissed bitterly. "He wished to make war but to do so the ships had to pass my home. I would not let either fleet pass. I fed as I had not fed in too long. And then Ares called to me and I came to his hand, lured by his dark promise, by a power that I could taste…." Her body straightened, seemed somehow to ripen with promise. "I opened to his passion and he ensnared me, made of me a slave to his precious Admiral. Since then I have dwelled in that damn vase, waiting, seeking my freedom…"

"Feeding your master," Iocastus growled, his eyes hot with hunger. "When you feed, you pass your energy to your master, don't you? You give him immortality."

"Is that what you want, mortal? Immortality?" Amashan's voice softened seductively.

"Yes," Iocastus breathed.

"Then come to me…." She smiled and held out her hands to him, apparently ignoring the fact that Iolaus stood between them. "Open to me and I will give you what you deserve."

Iocastus moaned softly, tightening his grip on Iolaus. "I want it…" he groaned, then reached over Iolaus' shoulder and grabbed wildly for the amulet the hunter still held, clawing at it, scrabbling for the stone.

Amashan hissed and lunged, her hands slapping against Iolaus' bare chest and passing straight through the hunter into Iocastus.

"No!" Iocastus screamed in pain and panic as her hands sank into his body. She moved through Iolaus like sunlight through water, emerging from his back as Iolaus arched in agony then sagged forward, his knees buckling under him as the Lamia emerged from his back like mist and melted into a struggling Iocastus.

Hercules and Aethalides moved of one accord, grabbing Iolaus as he fell and dragging him away from the Lamia.

Iocastus screamed and fought, reaching out wildly to them as the knife fell from his spasming hand. The Lamia could be seen both around and within him, writhing sensuously as if she bathed in his blood and body.

Lowering Iolaus into Aethalides' arms, Hercules started towards him. The Herald grabbed his arm. "Don't do it, Herc."

"I can't let it kill him."

"It's already too late. She killed him the moment she touched him."

The Parthian fell to his knees, struggling to breathe as he clawed at his chest, digging at his body with his nails as if he wanted to claw of his own skin. His mouth opened and closed soundlessly now, his eyes holding nothing but pain and fear. His body seemed to be drying out, desiccating before their eyes. His flesh withered away, drying out until it outlined his very bones. He toppled to the floor on his face, his hands scrabbling feebly against the stone as his writhing gradually subsided to nothing and his ash grey skin started to flake away. 

Only then did the Lamia rise, lifting herself from his back as if she was merely sitting up in bed. She licked her fingertips, gliding her tongue over her fangs as she arched and floated upwards, rising to her feet without need of joints. "That was lovely," she purred as she turned back to face the others. Her eyes were enormous green pools of glowing emerald fire. "Whose next?"

"You murdered that man!" Hercules yelled in fury. "You expect us to submit to you willingly?"

"I warned him he was meat," Amashan pointed out serenely as she drifted towards them, no longer bothering to even pretend to walk. "In his arrogance, he did not listen." 

"I thought the kiss of a Lamia was supposed to be painless," Aethalides said angrily.

Amashan blinked, licking her lips again. "Come to me willingly and it will be," she answered. "I have no wish to hurt you, only to feed and grow strong again." She offered him her hand. "Come, I will be gentle."

 Aethalides half twitched towards her hand and then pulled back in alarm. "No," he gasped, shooting a frightened look towards what was left of Iocastus. Only his ashes were left, leaving his outline on the floor.

"What do you want?" Hercules asked sharply. He was kneeling beside Iolaus as the hunter lay in a ball on the floor between him and the Herald. Whether he was unconscious, asleep or worse, Hercules didn't know. All he did know was that under the hand he had laid on his friend's back he could feel him breathing.

"My freedom," the Lamia answered.

"And how can you get that?"

Amashan's eye