Hercules was feeling overwhelmed by women.

It wasn’t a feeling he got very often, but the situation was an unusual one and it was beginning to make him distinctly uncomfortable. He had no trouble with Amymome - who was proving to be an engaging lady, a gracious host and an excellent queen - nor did he mind the way Merrine was insisting on mothering him, since she seemed to mother everybody, including Lysander. Jayce was managing to be charming and mysterious at the same time, saying little but watching him with those wide dark eyes; he didn’t really mind that either, although her quiet consideration disconcerted him a little.

No, it was the rest of them that were driving him crazy.

There was the matronly Doridea, who was obviously the organising type and was busy organising everything, down to where she wanted everyone to be, and who should be talking to whom. Several times now, Hercules had tried to cross the room to speak to Lysander and the Queen, only to find himself being intercepted and ushered back into the place she expected to see him.

Then there was Euguine, who kept asking him irrelevant questions, like what his favourite colour was and whether he thought the fine spring weather would hold. She came complete with two giggly daughters in two. Both of them were actually quite pretty, but also seemed pretty vacuous. Efforts to escape the loquacious woman and her simpering daughters had merely trapped him in the company of the other leading light on the council, a forthright woman by the name of Milone.

And she had proceeded to tell him what a lot of nonsense all those stories she’d heard about him must be, and how come a good looking young man like himself wasn’t married and settled down somewhere, and personally she didn’t really believe in the gods, but you know what they say, so she always dutifully offered all the sacrifices just in case, and did he think that there was someone up on Olympus listening to all those endless prayers and nonsense …?

"Umm – well," he extemporised warily, "I don’t think the gods listen very often, but they are up there. When they’re not –hanging around in the mortal realm, that is. My father – "

"It’s this thing about faith," the woman interrupted pensively. "I mean –personally I like to have proof, you know? Evidence. And where’s the evidence for the gods? Oh – I know the stuff about the sunrise and the weather and the crops growing, but that’s just nature isn’t it. I want something – more specific. Something that says ‘a god was here.’ You ever see anything like that?"

"Ah – " Hercules opened his mouth and then closed it again. There were a lot of things he’d seen – but he suspected she wouldn’t believe any of them. She might not even believe it if Zeus himself appeared right in front of her … Inspiration dawned and he favoured her with a broad smile. "As a matter of fact," he said, "I have. When my friend Iolaus gets here? Ask him to show you his right hand. There’s a mark – right here," he explained, demonstrating the location on his own palm. "Artemis put it there herself. When she made him one of her hounds."

"Really?" Milone questioned sceptically. "What a strange thing to do."

Hercules stifled a small laugh. "I rather thought so myself," he said, as straight faced as he could manage. "But that’s my sister for you. Impulsive. Actually," he added thoughtfully, "most of my sisters are like that. Some of my brothers too. Be glad Ares isn’t directly involved in this civil war of yours. At least," he went on even more thoughtfully. "I don’t think he is …"

"What ever," Milone asked pointedly, "would the god of war want with Tantellus?"

"Good point," Hercules frowned, still worrying about the possibility. He didn’t get the feeling that Ares was lurking around this one, but you could never be entirely certain.

"Ladies?" Amymome was calling the assembly to order. "I know not everybody is here yet, but we really can’t delay any longer. Hercules, would you join me?"

"Of course," he agreed at once, hoping that he didn’t look too thankful as he weaved his way through the gathering. Lysander gave him a sympathetic grin as he climbed to the dais taking two steps at a time. The queen smile held a hint of amusement.

"Don’t worry," she whispered, leaning over as he took the seat that had been placed beside her throne, "I won’t let them eat you alive, I promise."

"Thank you, " he whispered back, expressing decided gratitude. Her eyes twinkled for a moment, and then her face took on sober lines as she turned her mind back to the current situation.

"First," she said, turning to the gathered assembly, "I’d like to thank you all for the support you have given me so far today. I appreciate that these are trying circumstances, and that many of you would rather be with your families than advising me in council, but your presence here can only serve as a strong message to our enemies. Tantellus does not surrender to bullies. Nor are we cowed by threats."

"These threats are destroying the city," Doridea pointed out. "Your majesty – evacuating the lower levels is all very well, but we must find a way to stop Petrayus or soon there’ll be no Tantellus for our men-folk to come home to."

There were several murmurs of agreement at this, and Hercules could understand why. The woman was right. There were fires spreading across the lowest level of the city, and if the assault continued unchecked then the place was likely to become uninhabitable.

"Wine?" a soft voice enquired at his elbow. He accepted the goblet Jayce pressed into his hand, thanking her with an abstracted smile. She smiled back and slinked away, pausing briefly to place another goblet beside the queen and hand a third to her General.

"I agree," Amymome was saying. "But our options are limited. We can’t let Petrayus into the city. Once he and his army were here, they’d be able to hold the walls against all comers. And that would include our own forces, once they returned from manoeuvres.

"Nor can we hope to directly counter the attacks that are being made against us. Brave as our guests have proved themselves to be – " and she threw Hercules a grateful smile as she spoke, " – not even the son of Zeus and his gallant friend could defeat an entire army – double handed, so to speak."

Well, Hercules grinned to himself, starting to lift the cup to his lips, actually we have – but I’d rather have a few other options before we’re forced to take that route again …

Direct confrontation was always risky – and in those kind of circumstances he wouldn’t have the option of pulling his punches. Things would get messy. Men would die. Nor could he entirely guarantee that he – or Iolaus for that matter – wouldn’t be among them.

"We need to get the army back!" Doridea insisted, nodding thanks to Merrine as she helped herself to a goblet of wine from the tray the nurse was taking round. "There are no other options."

"There’s no safe way to leave the city," Hercules pointed out, lowering the goblet again without taking a sip. "There are archers on the mountainside and more at the gate. It might be possible to sneak by under cover of night, but – "

"Surely Petrayus will listen to reason," Eugine interjected. "If we were to send him a deputation …"

"I will not bargain with him," Amymome announced firmly. "I would rather Tantellus burned than surrender it to a bully and a coward. He deliberately waited until our men had left and if he thinks he can intimidate us, simply because we are women, then he just think again."

There were several nods of agreement to that. There were also some worried looks. Not everyone in the assembly possessed their queen’s determination.

"We will find a way," she continued with confidence. "Lysander and I have already discussed certain – possibilities. They are risky, and will depend on how willing our guests are to help us with our difficulties. Hercules," she said, turning to him with regal apology, "this isn’t your city. This shouldn’t be your fight. But with your help – and that of your friend … Where is Iolaus, anyway?" she asked, interrupting herself to glance at Lysander with concern. "Shouldn’t he be here by now?"

Hercules smiled. Knowing Iolaus, he probably stopped for something to eat … "He’ll be here," he said with warm confidence and lifted the goblet, ready to take a much needed mouthful of the rich red wine.

Which was exactly the moment that Iolaus arrived.

Like a whirlwind.

He hurtled into the throne room as if the Furies themselves were on his tail. He was actually trying to put on the brakes as he came through the door, but his momentum was too great and his boot leather simply went into a skid on the polished marble floor. He canoned straight into Merrine for the second time that day, sending her – and her tray – flying. He staggered away from the impact, his hair and bare shoulders dripping with spilled wine; the women nearest to his precipitous entrance reacted with startlement, some even leaping to their feet to avoid the sudden shower.

The hunter ignored them, glancing round the room in frenzied haste until he caught sight of his partner on the dais. His eyes immediately went wide with horror. He sprang forward, taking no more than half a dozen steps before launching himself into a flying leap; one that lifted him high into the air. He let out a wild whoop as he jumped, his body twisting up into a complex manoeuvre that corkscrewed him through at least one complete somersault and ended with him flying, feet first, straight towards his best friend.

Borrowed boots made contact; they took the goblet clean out of Hercules’ hand and sent it spinning away. The warrior flew past, totally misbalanced by the strike, and landed at the back of the dais with a flail of arms, voicing a decided curse as he hit the ground.

Everyone stared at him in astonishment. Lysander had even half drawn his sword. Iolaus staggered to his feet, staring round the assembly with wild and frantic eyes. "Stop her!" he exclaimed, pointing at Jacye who was just about to leave the room. "She poisoned the wine. She’s working for Petrayus …"

What?

Hercules had been decidedly bemused by his partner’s dramatic arrival. His desperate words were even more confusing. Nevertheless he turned, focusing on the subject of the hunter’s pointing finger, and was in time to see a look of total fury blossom onto the cook’s face. The expression was startling; it turned her exotic beauty into a mask of pure malevolence. She darted forward, dragged down one of the ancient cross bows that were hanging on a rack by the door and – before anyone could stop her – cocked back the loading mechanism, lifted the weapon and fired.

The bolt careened across the intervening space, scattering panicked women away from its path.

The son of Zeus hastily caught it, barely a breath away from his heart.

Jayce cursed and threw the weapon down, turning to run from the room. She was stopped by Cystalia, who’d arrived in Iolaus’ wake. The courtesan grabbed the fleeing cook’s arm and practically threw her back into the room. Several others among the women had recovered from their alarm by then and the traitor was quickly seized, secured, and frog marched up to the throne.

Hercules, realising that she wasn’t about to get away, glanced back at his friend, who’d slumped back against the wall with a heartfelt sigh of relief.

If he’d been just a minute later …

It wasn’t the first time Iolaus had saved his life, but that wasn’t the point; he’d just done it again, and the man concerned was grateful. Very grateful.

"Nice leap," he murmured, offering the wine soaked hunter his arm to help him straighten up. "I didn’t know Xena had taught you that one."

Iolaus grinned, clasping the proffered forearm with a firm grip that conveyed a lot of things. Things like: phew, that was close, and glad you’re okay numbered among them. "She didn’t," he said, pulling himself upright. "I got that one from Missy."

Oh …

Hercules nodded sagely at the information, wondering – just a little – what else the wily hunter might have learnt in the short time he’d spent in Artemis’ company. Other than what the world looked like on four feet, of course.

"How did you know?" Jayce was demanding. She was ignoring Amymome’s distraught consideration and was glaring past her, giving Iolaus a look that would have drawn blood given half a chance. "You couldn’t have guessed my plan. I did nothing to give myself away!"

"Ahh," her accuser reacted, frowning a little because he’d just noticed that his blond locks were dripping wine. "Well – umm – actually, you did. See – ah – that note you wrote? The one where you promised Petrayus you’d make sure that Herc here wasn’t a problem?" He quirked a small smile, along with an almost apologetic shrug. "I shot your pigeon. Actually," he corrected with a sudden concern for accuracy, "the archer that was shooting at me, shot your pigeon. On a rebound. But I got the note. This note," he added, tugging the scrap of paper from his belt and handing it to the Queen. "After I read that," he concluded, throwing his partner a warm smile and another of those it wasn’t much really shrugs, "I got here as fast as I could."

Hercules smiled back. Gratefully. Iolaus ducked his head a little to evade his friend’s eyes, almost as if he were embarrassed by the prospect of thanks, and the grateful smile widened into a knowing grin. The hunter wasn’t one to avoid praise when he’d earned the right to it – but nor was he comfortable about expressing deep emotion in public. He didn’t really need to make it explicit: Hercules had long ago learned to read the eloquence of feeling that lay behind those expressive blue eyes.

Guess he was worried he wouldn’t make it in time …

He could understand that. He was also extremely thankful that he had.

"Why, Jayce?" Amymome was asking, crumpling the evidence of betrayal between her fingers as she stared at the defiant woman in front of her. "Why? Haven’t we treated you well? I thought you were my friend."

Jayce laughed derisively. "Friend? I’m your servant, Amymome. My mother came to Tantellus as a slave, and I’ve lived as one all my life. You sit in this magnificent palace and you’re waited on hand and foot. I toil in your kitchens, earning your smiles and favours with treats and titbits."

"I always thought she liked to cook," Lysander murmured puzzledly. Hercules shrugged. Some people could be a lot harder to read than others, and this woman had undoubtedly concealed her true feelings behind a deceptive façade.

"But why this?" the queen questioned sorrowfully. "Jayce, if you weren’t happy here …"

"I was happy," the traitor hissed angrily. "Until you and Mithias sent him away. He treated me like a queen. He promised he’d make me one. When he rules Tantellus, I will sit at his side. Not you. You," she went on, glaring at Hercules and his partner with undisguised hate, "you’ve ruined everything. It was all planned and then – you two turned up with your smiles and your confidence and your reputation … You gave her hope. I was going to take it all away again."

"Oh Jayce," Amymome sighed, looking at her with pity. "You poor thing. Petrayus has been using you. Did he really promise you my throne? He’d never do it. He never keeps any of his promises. That’s why we had to send him away in the first place. And as for you trying murder my guests … well, I’m just – speechless. I’m not refusing to surrender the city because Hercules is here – glad as I am for his support," she noted, giving him a grateful smile. "I’m queen of this city, Jayce and as such I will not submit to threats or intimidation, no matter what the cost. Petrayus will never rule Tantellus – and neither will you. Take her away," she requested. "Lock her up somewhere. Mithias will judge her when he comes home."

The cook chuckled gleefully. "You wish," she crowed. "Your precious King isn’t coming home. Nor are your beloved menfolk," she continued, turning to gloat at the gathered council. "Tonight they’ll all be camping on the plain by the river. And by the time the sun rises tomorrow – they’ll all be drowned. Drowned deep. Petrayus has men working on the dam right now," she announced, turning back to give Amymome a triumphant look. "And there is nothing you can do to stop them. You can’t even send a message to warn them. So don’t pin hopes on rescue – because there isn’t going to be any!"

Gods …

Jayce drew herself up to her full height, her chorus of bells ringing discordantly as she did so. "You will surrender – or you’ll burn," she declared with relish. "Tantellus is doomed."

"What do I do, Lysander? What do I do?"

Amymome was pacing, walking back and forth on the terrace, her eyes drawn, inevitably, to the thick pall of smoke that draped the buildings below. The sun was low in the sky now, and the shadow of the mountain lay over the city like a funeral shroud. Only the palace remained touched by sunshine; it painted the stones with a soft gold and warmed the marble – but not her soul.

Oh Mithias, Mithias. My love, my life, my heart …

How can I save you? How can I save your city and your people?

What can I do?

"Our plan becomes more imperative," Lysander told her softly. "The secrets of Tantellus are not worth keeping if it means the city’s death. Hercules will help us, I’m sure. And his friend – "

"Everything will rest on him," Amymome interrupted anxiously. "I have every confidence he can succeed, but – do I have the right to ask a man to risk his life for my cause?"

"His life is at risk, whether we ask him or not," the general pointed out. "Your majesty – I’m an old man, I’ve fought in too many wars and I’ve seen too many things I’d rather not have seen. I know a true hero when I meet one. You won’t need to ask him. He’ll volunteer."

She shivered, watching the smoke drift and curl in the evening air. "So many lives depend on this," she murmured. "On the actions of a man I’ve known less than a day. My heart tells me I can trust him but – after Jayce – I’m not sure that I can trust my heart anymore."

"I am." Lysander’s voice was gentle. "Amymome – I’ve known you since you were a small child. You were once my little princess and now you are my queen. Your heart has never failed you when it mattered most."

Amymome found herself smiling despite the turmoil of her thoughts. "You always know just what to say to me," she accused warmly, and the old man smiled back.

"That’s because I always speak my mind," he said with a soft laugh. "Shall I ask the others to join you now?"

"Yes," she decided, not really ready, but knowing that she had to be. Time was running out on them, and they needed to act. "Yes. I have decided what we will do."

She had no choice. She would share the secrets that her grandfather had bequeathed to her. She would place the safety of her city into the hands of the son of Zeus – and trust the lives of its men folk to the strength and courage of his partner and friend.

She could only hope that he was up to the challenge …

Hercules was the first to appear, leading the small and select group that she had picked to confide in. Iolaus was only a step behind him, busy rubbing excess moisture from his hair with a towel. A familiar blue one. Amymome was a little amused to note that Cystalia had another of those distinctive towels draped over her shoulder. She’d asked Merrine to show the warrior to the palace bathroom so that he could get cleaned up. From the looks that Milone and Yvanis were currently giving the courtesan, there’d been some argument over who got to help.

"… and I say a quick shower doesn’t count," Cystalia was insisting. "It’s no fun scrubbing backs in a shower. Well – not a quick one anyway."

"I suppose you wanted to lick him clean," Yvanis suggested in an irked tone. "You would."

Cystalia shrugged, her expression smug. "No point in wasting all that wine …"

Hercules half turned to give her an astonished look. Iolaus was looking decidedly embarressed.

"That wine was poisoned," Milone pointed out archly, striding past them both to greet her queen with a polite smile. "Your majesty summoned us?"

"Yes. I did," Amymome affirmed, wondering why – despite the situation – she still felt the urge to laugh at the exchange. Perhaps because the banter helped remind her what it was she was fighting for – or perhaps just because the golden haired hunter had such a cute blush … "Hercules. Iolaus. Ladies. I am going to break a vow I made when I was a very small girl. I want you to swear to me that you will not reveal what I’m about to show you to any living creature, man or woman, unless it be in peril of your life."

"Not even to the gods," Hercules promised without a moments hesitation. Iolaus draped his towel around bare shoulders and grinned at her.

"What he said," he agreed, tilting his head in his friend’s direction.

"Sure," Cystalia concurred. Yvanis nodded, and Milone followed suit, although she frowned a little as she did so.

"Good," the queen smiled. "Then follow me."

She led the way off the terrace and down the steps towards the bathhouse on the level below. Hercules fell into step beside her.

"Iolaus and I have been – discussing the situation," he said quietly. "Someone has to warn Mithais what Petrayus has planned."

Amymome smiled to herself. That was exactly what she had in mind.

"So – ah – we’ve agreed that, when night falls, one of us will go over the wall. Now, we haven’t actually agreed who yet – "

"I still say I’m sneakier," Iolaus interrupted from behind them. His partner threw an impatient look over his shoulder.

"Sneakier got you caught at Naxos. Remember?"

"That was Naxos," the hunter retorted. "I’ve been practising since then."

Oh, I do hope so …

"That’s not the point," Hercules protested. "If I get spotted I have a better chance of catching arrows than you do."

"Yeah. Right. There’s more of you to hit."

I don’t believe this. You’d think they’d be trying to argue their way out of the job. Not into it.

"Well, if you’re going to take that approach, then I’ve got longer legs and I’ll cover the ground quicker."

"Sure. If you were running from here to Sparta and back. This is a sprint across rough terrain. Herc - I can risk surfaces that’d never take your weight."

"And if you slipped or fell … Iolaus - " Hercules stopped on the lowest step and turned to look his friend in the face. "How would I explain that to Missy? That I let you kill yourself on a mountainside when I could have been the one to go?"

The question gave the hunter a moments startled pause; then his face creased into an impatient grimace and he rolled his eyes skywards with exasperation. "The same way," he suggested, "that I‘d have to explain how come I let you go… Herc," he said wearily, "why don’t we just toss for it, huh?"

"Okay." The son of Zeus was affable to that idea. "Got a dinar?"

"I have," Cystalia offered brightly. Amymome sighed.

"Hercules," she interrupted, catching at his arm. "Iolaus. Grateful as I am that both of you seem ready to risk your lives for my people, this isn’t a matter to be left to Fortune – or the Fates for that matter. Nightfall may prove too late for either of you to reach Mithais in time. Hercules - if mine and Lysander’s plan is to work, then we'll need your strength at sunrise. Iolaus will have to be the one to go – and soon. If he’s willing to take the risk, that is."

The two men exchanged a wary look. The son of Zeus had a very doubtful frown on his face. Iolaus didn’t look a lot happier. "In - daylight?" he hazarded, glancing up at the sky. The mountainside was shadowed, but it wasn’t anywhere near dark yet. The queen shook her head.

"Not – exactly. Petrayus knows the city well. He’ll have men posted at all the places that someone might go over the walls. That way would certain death. But there is an alternative. A risky one, but – at least no-one will be shooting at you."

"How risky, exactly?" the man asked, sharing a second worried look with his companion. Amymome found him a encouraging smile.

"You’ll see."

Well, she kinda implied I had a choice …

Iolaus was pondering what that might mean as he followed the queen across the ornate plaza and up the steps of the bathhouse. Hercules had an anxious look on his face, and the women were sharing worried glances as they walked across the open space. The hunter knew the reason for that, and surfaced briefly from his thoughts to throw Cystalia a reassuring smile. They were fairly safe from the archers on this level since the angle of attack was so acute – not to mention that the roof of the bathhouse provided an extra layer of cover.

Lysander had arrived ahead of them. He was waiting under the arching entrance to the crystal palace, talking quietly to the bath attendant, who hastily bowed a greeting to her queen and unlatched the door to let them in. Inside the place was as warm and humid as ever. Iolaus was getting decidedly familiar with that heavy, scented atmosphere; this was his third visit of the day after all. Yvanis grinned at him as they walked past the arch beyond which her mother had thrown him into the deep end, and he grinned back, wishing that their visit to this place hadn’t taken such an unexpected turn.

Amymome led them past all the side arches, climbing carefully up the shallow steps at the far end of the vast entrance hall before pausing in front of an intricate mosaic at the back of what looked like a stage for oratory. She nodded to Lysander, who produced a heavy key from inside his breastplate.

"Most people think that this is the back wall of the bathhouse," the queen announced quietly. "Most people are wrong. The chambers that lie beyond this point contain the true treasures of our city – and once again I ask for your silence on what you are about to see."

True treasures?

Iolaus recalled a tale of streets paved with gold and wondered what else the vanished builders of this city might have left as their legacy. He didn’t have long to wait. The General slotted the key into a concealed lock, turned it twice – the hunter heard the click as the well oiled mechanism released several catches all at once – and the mosaic slid silently upwards, revealing itself to be a door.

Beyond which lay a sloping tunnel.

It was lit – not by softly burning torches, but by a warm yellow light that gleamed from a series of crystals set at intervals along either wall.

Wow …

This wasn’t clever architecture. This was magic, pure and simple.

The women clearly thought so too; Milone actually took a step backwards, and Cystalia grabbed at the hunter's arm for reassurance. Yvanis’ mouth fell open. Hercules, on the other hand, looked briefly startled and then broke into a broad grin of relieved recognition, as if the solution to some long standing puzzle had suddenly made itself obvious. Iolaus adopted an anxious frown. He didn’t trust magic, anymore than he trusted the gods who generally handed it out to people, and he had no idea what his best friend might be grinning about.

"You –ah – recognise the handiwork?" he asked warily, stepping closer to his partner’s side as Amymome led the way into the tunnel. Hercules flashed him a warm smile and an affirmative nod before returning his attention to the mosaic patterned walls and the weird crystals they supported. "Hephaestus?" the hunter hazarded. He got an abstracted shake of the head. "Uh – Hera? Hecate?" He offered the last one with a wince. He’d only ever encountered the Sorceress once, and he didn’t particularly want to do so again. He got, first another vague shake of the head, and then a soft laugh.

"This isn’t the work of any of the gods, Iolaus," Hercules announced with confidence. "This is Atlantean science. Now I know who built this city – although I still don’t know why. I doubt anyone ever will."

Atlantis? Iolaus mouthed, taking another good look at the warm yellow crystals. They gave out a soft, constant light, the centre of each glowing almost too brightly to look at directly. What little he knew about that fabled, vanished kingdom had mostly been gleaned from his friend’s sketchy tales of the place. Hercules had actually been there – and he and the seeress Cassandra had barely escaped the city’s final death throes. The Atlanteans had abandoned their belief in the gods, and they’d put their faith in the magic of mysterious, powerful crystals instead.

It had been their greed for those which had destroyed them in the end …

There was some kind of soft vibration running through the marble floor; it grew stronger as they descended, becoming a barely audible hum that snuck into the hunter’s bones and set them thrumming in sympathy. He shook his head to get the buzzing out of it before realising that it was his skull that was ringing and not his ears; the feeling wasn’t exactly unpleasant, but it was decidedly disturbing.

What is that?

"Machinery?" Hercules breathed in disconcerted wonder, reaching out a hand to brush the tunnel wall. "Amymome, what - ?"

"You’ll see," the queen interrupted, smiling at Lysander, who smiled back, sharing an amusement at their guests’ bewilderment. Iolaus took a sideways step and cautiously echoed his friend’s gesture, ready to snatch his hand back should the need arise. The wall was resonating softly, matching the background hum that filled the air.

Oh, this is weird …

Cystalia and Yvanis certainly seemed to think so. They’d both moved into the centre of the tunnel, as far away from humming walls and glowing crystals as they could manage. Milone had tugged her shawl tight about her shoulders and was walking behind them with a wary step. On the other hand, Hercules seemed utterly fascinated, striding forward with an eagerness to see what wonders might be coming next. The hunter – who was never adverse to new experiences – grinned at the anxious trio of women and hastened after him, catching up just as the tunnel opened out into a sprawling cavern.

Which was where they both came to an abrupt halt, open mouthed and wide eyed with astonishment.

There were pipes everywhere. Stone and metal pipes, some as slender as an arrow, others twice the girth of an ale barrel and all the possible widths in-between. They pierced the walls, they pierced the ceiling and they pierced the floor, tangling together into an intricate web that occupied most of the cave. At the centre of that web and suspended from it was an ornate ring of metal, at least ten cubits across and two deep. It was set above a pool of steaming water, which took up half the floor space of the cave and a cluster of pipes descended from its centre to vanish beneath the water’s surface. The construction was remarkable, but it wasn’t that which had brought the two of them to an amazed halt. Nor was it the way that the cavern was filled with light, although the arrangement of crystals and mirrors that reflected and amplified a directed beam from somewhere high up in the ceiling to a radiant cluster of crystals at the heart of the web was undoubtedly worth staring at.

The ring was moving.

Not turning slowly, like a water wheel or a mill stone. Not even turning at the pace of a racing chariot. It was spinning so fast that the movement was blurred. Beneath it, the surface of the water reflected the direction of its spin, churned into agitation as the motion somehow dragged liquid up the pipes and forced it into the waiting web above. It was the spinning wheel which was the source of that insistent vibration; the sound of it thrummed through the steam filled air, magnified by the pipes and making the beam of light shiver with waves of colour.

"This is the heart of Tantellus," Amymome announced, walking out to stand at the edge of the dark lake and look down at its churning surface. "From here, water is pumped to serve the entire city. It’s drawn down from the lake outside and then sent back under pressure to power the fountains, fill the baths and be available at the turn of a tap. We have protected its secret for generations – because even a god might be envious of such power."

"You can say that again," Iolaus breathed, tearing his gaze away from the amazing engine to catch his partner’s eye. Hercules nodded, a bare dip of acknowledgement. They’d both seen it. Right at the centre of the cluster of crystals that powered the web there was one which was slowly pulsing with a faint but familiar colour; a soft and unmistakable green.

It was too far away and too high up for close inspection, but the hunter had no doubts about what he was looking at. It’s a piece of the staff. It’s got to be …

Its presence helped to explain a few things; like how come the complex mechanism that he was currently staring at had remained in pristine condition for several centuries, and why the original builders of Tantellus might have had the sort of wealth that enabled them to pave their city with gold. It also meant that the confident vow he and his partner had made to Amymome had just taken on a far greater significance. Should Ares uncover the fact that even a small fragment of the staff lay hidden here, Tantellus would probably find itself the target of innumerable ambitious warlords, most of whom would make Petrayus look about as threatening as a wax sword in a heat wave.

There was a beat of silence as both of them considered the implications of the unexpected discovery, and then they shared a second, longer look. Basically it said well, I won’t tell if you don’t – and then dissolved in a mutual grin as they each realised that the other had had the exact same thought.

"This is incredible," Cystalia announced, moving past the two of them to stare at the machine with astonishment. "You know – all my years in the city and I never once wondered what keeps the water flowing? How does it do that? Is it magic?"

"Yes," Iolaus answered with confidence.

"No," Hercules announced, at precisely the same time. "Well – not exactly," he added, clearly wondering if he could explain the difference. Iolaus rolled his eyes. As far as he was concerned, there wasn’t any. "This is – science. Sort of. My friend Daedalus could probably explain it better, but – these crystals focus energy from sunlight and that’s what powers the wheel. I think. Do the fountains still run at night?"

"Not as strongly," Lysander answered, moving to join his queen by the lake. "But the wheel never stops. At least – it never has as long as I’ve known about it."

"Long time," the hunter observed flippantly, half under his breath. The general heard him anyway – and grinned knowingly.

"So why are we here?" Yvanis demanded. She and Milone were both hovering under the archway, reluctant to enter the light filled, vibration washed cavern. "What’s all this got to do with saving the city?"

Good question.

Having assessed the miracle of the wheel – and the power that helped drive it – Iolaus had turned his attention to the rest of the bizarre construction. The pipes were fairly self explanatory, clearly designed to take the water up into the city above them. But there were other odd items dotted about the cavern, most of which had no obvious purpose. What, for instance, was the use of the huge bronze circle hanging on one wall, and why did it appear to have a sword blade riveted into it, hilt in the middle of the circle and point brushing the engraved edge of the massive plate? Then there were the big upright metal wheels; three of them, standing in a row on one edge of the churning lake as if the place were a weird ship with three separate rudders.

"Forget Tantellus," Milone interjected sharply. "What about the army? My son is out there. I should be doing – something - to save him, not standing here admiring the plumbing. I thought you said there was a way out of the city. I don’t see – "

"This," Amymome interrupted firmly, her hand sweeping out to indicate the restless water behind her, "is the way."

What?

Iolaus had taken a sideways step to get a better look at the ornate metal lockers that lined the back wall next to the entry arch; the queen’s words whipped his head round in astonishment. The pool was a bubbling cauldron of heat, wisps of steam spiralling up from its agitated surface to wreath their way around the monstrous pipes and the spinning wheel that encircled them. "You’re kidding," he reacted. Amymome shook her head, glancing at Lysander as she did so. The General sighed.

"I know it looks intimidating," he said. "But it is possible. This pool connects to a series of caverns and they run all the way through the mountain wall and out to the lake beyond. From there its only a short swim to the top of the dam. You should be able to reach it well before sunrise."

"Yeah," the hunter snorted cynically, "if I happen to be a fish that can see in the dark – oh, and know a way to avoid becoming Iolaus soup on the way. That water’s hot. Herc," he requested, turning to his partner for support, "tell me he’s not serious."

Hercules was looking extremely thoughtful. Not a good sign. Iolaus’ heart sank a little; he knew that look, and it usually meant he was about to be talked into something he’d later regret. He hoped it wasn’t going to be what he thought it might. He wasn’t above taking risks when the situation demanded it, but committing suicide was just plain stupid.

Still, if Herc thinks this may be possible …

"Actually," Hercules decided, "I think he is. Lysander – there’s more to this than meets the eye, isn’t there? Because Iolaus is right. You’re talking about a swim of several leagues, underwater all the way – and without any light. Now, unless you’ve some way of turning him into a merman …"

"Not quite," the General interrupted with a small smile. "But that’s a good analogy all the same. You see -" he explained, walking across to the nearest of the metal lockers that had caught the hunter’s attention earlier, "whoever built this place also wanted to maintain it. And they left the equipment to do just that."

He open the locker door with a florish and Iolaus took a startled step backwards. There was an armoured monster hanging on the back of it, its arms swinging with menace and its head rolling down and round to stare at him with three ugly bulging eyes.

Whoa …

"Clever," Hercules noted, moving over to take a closer look while the hunter took a couple of deep breaths to settle the sudden race of his heart and berated himself for being so jumpy. It wasn’t a monster at all. Just a suit of armour – albeit a very weird one. For one thing, the helmet was huge; it was shaped into a bulbous globe, and two of those bulging eyes were a pair of clear crystal spheres half sunk into the metal. The third sphere was made of the same metal as the helmet – which was a curious green-gold colour, like bronze left to weather in the open. The thick chest and back plates were made of the same stuff, but the dark green sleeves and the matching legging of the suit looked more like leather than metal. The weirdest thing about the whole ensemble were the boots. They ended in a pair of wide webbed feet, just like those of a frog.

The whole thing looked a little like a frog in fact. A man shaped, man sized frog …

"Oh no," he groaned, suddenly understanding where all of this was going. Lysander’s plan wasn’t to make him a merman, but a frogman – putting his faith, and his survival, in the hands of some ancient magician would-be scientist and the equipment he’d abandoned several centuries ago. "Why me?" he asked the general air, rolling his eyes up towards the pipe cluttered ceiling. It was a rhetorical question, since he knew perfectly well why. It had a lot to do with having long ago chosen to tangle the threads of his life with that of the man currently examining the ridiculous suit.

Besides, he reminded himself with a hint of patient self-mockery. He’s the son of a god. He never gets to wear the silly costumes …

"I don’t know," Hercules was saying, lifting the suit off its hook and thoughtfully turning it over to examine the back of it. The gesture wasn’t meant to convey anything in particular, but it made a perfect point all the same. There was no way that the son of Zeus would have fitted into the thing. "This thing here – it makes air?"

"Yes," Lysander answered, pointing at something on the chest plate. "As long as this crystal stays blue, the wearer can breath as if he were standing on dry land. And this, here – this controls the light."

The third eye on the helmet opened; it covered another of those warm yellow crystals – the ones that generated the light in the tunnels. Iolaus – who was, after all, the kind of man who loved unlikely gadgets - perked up immediately.

Hey!

Ridiculous looking or not, the outfit was pretty clever. And if it worked the way the General was implying …

Maybe I could reach Mithias and the army in time to warn them.

Maybe …

"Uhuh," Hercules nodded, resetting the switch so that the eye closed again. He turned towards his partner, a worried expression creased across his face. "It’s your call, buddy," he said softly. The hunter looked down at the suit and then up, to meet anxious steel blue eyes.

"Well," he considered, weighing his options carefully, since he knew that was what his friend was asking him to do, "I guess that’d deal with the air and light problem. But that water’s pretty hot. Will that thing keep out the heat?"

"It should," Lysander assured him, carefully reaching into the locker to lift out a heavy metal belt. "For a while at least. I’ve tried it," he explained. "In my younger days, Mithias’ father and I explored a few of the tunnels wearing these suits."

"Oh." That sounded like good news. "So it’s perfectly safe."

The General hesitated. That wasn’t good news. "Normally – yes. I’d say so."

"Normally?" Hercules questioned, fixing him with a challenging stare. Lysander sighed, turning towards his queen with a look that clearly questioned you want to explain, or shall I? Amymome, who’d been observing the interplay between the three men with worried eyes, managed to summon up a hopeful smile.

"It’s just a question of timing," she said, her gaze flitting to the nearest of the three huge metal wheels. Then she turned back towards Hercules, her smile becoming a little more genuine. "And I’m sure that – if Iolaus agrees to go - you’ll insist we spare him every second that we can …"

Every second?

The hunter waited for the punchline; there had to be one, and he suspected he wasn’t going to like it very much. Not that it was likely to change his decision. He knew exactly what was at stake here; if he didn’t go then men were going to die - and it wasn’t in his nature to let something like that happen without trying to do something about it. Okay, so it meant putting on a weird suit and probably getting himself drowned or broiled to death on the way, but - if it came to that? At least he’d be dressed to cross the Styx without having to pay Charon for his passage …

"These three wheels," Amymome explained, "control the water gates that serve the pumping pool." She pointed to the nearest wheel. "That one lifts the pump out of the water, and that one raises the grating which filters the incoming water – and that allows safe entry to the tunnels, right?" she prompted, and Lysander nodded a confident agreement. Iolaus heaved a small sigh of relief. He hadn’t liked the thought of getting into that agitated, churning water. Hercules, he was grateful to note, looked equally relieved. "That one opens the overflow valve and lets the water in here drain down into the sewer system."

So why would anyone want – oh-ho! Wait a minute …

Plumbing wasn’t something he’d known that much about before; a lot of it – like this weird room with its pump driven by a remnant of the power of chaos and time – was still a mystery. But Iolaus knew all about the sewers now; he’d made a very personal inspection down in the lower city. It would take a lot of water to fill those lower passages, and there wouldn’t be a lot of point in needing to do so, unless –

Put enough water down there and it would scour out the whole system.

Wash it clean …

But to do that would require almost as much water as he and Hercules had once used to wash down the Augean stables. And Hercules had diverted an entire river for that. It had gone through the place with tremendous force, pushing everything in front of it.

"Won’t all that stop the fountains?" Yvanis was asking worriedly. She and Milone had ventured a little further into the room, although the younger woman was still looking decidedly anxious about the whole affair. Iolaus frowned. Diverting the water from the fountains wouldn’t be enough, would it? Amymome had called it an overflow valve. Overflow from what?

"Eventually," the General agreed. "About an hour afterwards. It’ll be nearly dark by then. And even if Petrayus does notice, he won’t know why. He’ll probably mark it up as one more reason for us to surrender."

"Does he know about all of this?" Hercules asked, frowning thoughtfully at the wheels.

Lysander grinned. "The King and I have the only keys. I’ve never shown Petrayus down here and I doubt that Mithias ever has."

One wheel opened the entry to the tunnels that led to the lake. One lifted the pump. And one opened the overflow valve …

Comprehension dawned. A matter of timing, the queen had said. Because - once he was in the water - if he were still too close to the pump room when that third wheel was turned, the resultant currents would suck him back and down into the sewers like a leaf going over a waterfall. Which would probably be an exhilarating experience, but was hardly one he was likely to survive.

Gods. That’s the risk she was talking about …

"Oh that’s just great," Cystalia muttered. "Half the city is on fire and we’re going to turn the water off." She’d wandered over to take a closer look at the churning lake. "What good is that going to do us?"

Good question.

Why was he going to have to risk his neck, just so that the sewers could be filled with hot water? If it was a system for washing them clean, then where was all that the water going to go …?

"If it means my son will be safe," Milone interjected firmly, "then I don’t care if the whole of the city burns to the ground."

"It - won’t," Iolaus realised, breaking into a broad grin. He’d finally got to the joke – and it was a good one. A really good one. For once, it looked as if he’d got there ahead of the son of Zeus – since he was still frowning doubtfully at the complex contraptions. "And don’t worry about your son," he announced with confidence. "If Lysander’s right about the timing, I’m sure I’ll get there in plenty of time."

Providing I can swim fast enough to get out of the way - and this thing works, he added to himself, reaching to pluck the frog suit from his partner’s hands. Hercules gave him a questioning look and he grinned at him, answering the wary concern with a nonchalant shrug. They really didn’t have a lot of choice about all this. There was a risk, but no more than the one he would have faced going over the wall and running the gauntlet of archers. Besides - he’d already made up his mind and there was no point in either of them worrying about the danger involved. He’d either make it, or he wouldn’t.

Making it in time – that was another matter altogether.

"Time to spare," Hercules agreed, slipping into the kind of warm smile that said things like: I’m proud of you, buddy, and you’d better get through this in one piece - along with if I could be there, I would, which went without saying, of course. Amymome looked decidedly relieved, and Cystalia shot the hunter a glance of startled respect. She’d clearly been thinking that no-one was going to be that crazy …

"You wanna help me with this?" Iolaus asked her, backing the question with a suggestive grin. He heard Hercules snort softly and deliberately ignored him, turning to include Yvanis in his hopeful query. He was about to do something incredibly dangerous, something he might not survive – and if the son of Zeus seriously thought he’d miss the opportunity for a little self indulgence before he left, well, then the man didn’t know him as well as he thought he did.

"Sure," the courtesan decided, slinking across to grab Yvanis by the hand and drag her over. "We’ll give you a hand, honey." Her smile widened into a predatory grin. "Then we’ll get you dressed …"