Timothy Boggs - Hercules Legendary Joureneys 03 (5 page)

He wanted time to think. To consider. Maybe to figure out a way he could deny Salmoneus' request for help without hurting the man's feelings. He certainly couldn't do any of that while Salmoneus prattled and Flovi sang and the horses threatened to revolt.

The sound of the water was soothing; the serenity of the woodland was calming.

He walked slowly, now and then watching the sunlight flare off the stream's surface, now and then looking for a stout branch he could use to whack himself on the skull for even thinking about getting involved.

Still, he had to admit that Salmoneus' problem was intriguing.

He just wasn't sure where exaggeration ended and the truth began.

During the past half year, the genial hustler had decided to expand his Vaudalville idea into something far more complex than a simple traveling sideshow. Permanent theaters or arenas in several towns were the goal, each spaced far enough apart so there would be little overlap in what he called the customer base.

Acts would rotate among the theaters regularly: continuous entertainment, never the same performers twice in one month, low prices, guaranteed fun, and not a single play about frogs among them.

Salmoneus had slapped a thigh for emphasis. "When it's settled, my friend, all I'll have to do is sit back and count the dinars, weigh the gold."

"You won't manage them yourself?"

"Of course not. I can't be in all those places at the same time. I'm not a god, you know, like some people I know."

"Ah." Hercules finally spotted the flaw. At least, the first flaw he could pick out among all the others clamoring for his attention. "So you'll—"

"Handpick my managers. Absolutely. Trusted men and women who will—"

"Rob you blind," Hercules finished with a grin. "But if anything goes wrong, you get the blame."

Salmoneus started to protest, considered, tucked his tongue into the corner of his mouth and considered a while longer, shook his head, reformulated the protest, and finally slumped back in exhaustion.

' Not that it
will
happen," Hercules said quickly to the dismay on his friend's face. "You'll just have to be careful, that's all. As," he added as sincerely as he could without breaking into hives, "you always are."

"It's a good idea," Salmoneus muttered petulantly.

"Of course it is."

"A bountiful idea."

"No question about it."

"An entertainment innovation never before seen by the human race."

"Not even by the gods."

"You're lying to protect my feelings."

Hercules grinned again. "Through my teeth."

Salmoneus came within a hair's breadth of losing his temper, sagged again, and laughed, this time rue-fully. "I do get enthusiastic, don't I."

Hercules nodded.

"But I know it'll work, Hercules. I
know
this will work. If only I could find out who didn't want it to."

Protection of the idea, however, was not why Hercules had agreed to think about endorsing Salmoneus'

scheme. If only half the tales of woe his friend had told him were accurate, this venture had turned into something quite a bit more than one rival trying to sabotage another.

Especially since, in this case at least, Salmoneus had no rivals.

In one village a small flood had wiped out half the crops; Salmoneus claimed there hadn't been a cloud in the sky all day. The villagers kept their rites on schedule, so a cranky god wasn't the answer either. It had just.. . happened.

Another village had nearly burned down when an alleged pillar of fire appeared briefly outside the building where the performances were being held. That the pillar lasted only a few seconds was the main reason only a shop was leveled, and a couple of eyebrows singed.

Fights had broken out in otherwise peaceful audiences; Miss Delilah the Contortionist's costumes had been slashed to ribbons; the jugglers, Clova and Aeton, claimed they had been poisoned; unknown thieves had robbed three taverns in three different towns.

"And in Hyanth," Salmoneus concluded, nearly wailing, "some kid was turned into a yellow frog!"

Hercules didn't bother to hide his disbelief.

"Really, Hercules, I'm not kidding. Poof! Man one minute, frog the next." Salmoneus shrugged. "Most amazing thing I ever saw."

"A... frog."

"Well," he said grudgingly, "I'm sure it was a trick of some kind. Dragar—he's one of my main attractions—says only a god can turn a man into a frog."

"Who's Dragar?"

"A magician."

"Magician?"

“Magician. You know—dinars out of noses, ribbons from your ears, that sort of thing." Salmoneus shrugged. "Actually, he's really quite good. You'll like him. Well, not him, personally. Personally, he's a little bit on the dim side, and very forgetful. He's also kind of a snob. Thinks he's ready for the big time and keeps asking for more money." He laughed a little. "What he doesn't know is, he
is
in the big time. Or as big as it gets around here."

And so it had gone, one minor disaster after another. Word spread. Engagements had been canceled.

Threats had been made. Money was lost. Salmoneus was being hurt where it hurt the most— right in the heart of his purse.

Hercules couldn't find the branch, but he did find a large pool that spread from the base of a beautiful, narrow waterfall. Since he couldn't decide what to do about Salmoneus, he decided to do something about the afternoon's heat. He stripped quickly, stretched, and dove in.

The water was clear, and he grinned at the small colorful fish who scooted away when he invaded their world. A push off the rocky bottom brought him back to the surface; a deep breath sent him under again, listening to the muted thunder of the waterfall, watching the seductive sway of underwater plants leaning in and out of the languid twisting current.

Only when his lungs began to burn did he head up, fast, breaking into the air explosively, gasping for breath, laughing aloud, and grateful that the cool water had cleared his head.

And suddenly aware that he wasn't alone.

He turned, and blinked in astonishment at the woman treading water behind him.

He blinked again when she yelled, "How dare you!" and slapped him a good one right in the jaw.

He went under, came up sputtering, and went down a second time when she slapped him again.

This time he took no chances. He stayed under and swam for shore, using submerged rocks as a makeshift staircase to bring him to the grassy bank. Once out, he fumbling hastily into his pants and reached for his boots.

He spotted the woman on the other side, ducking behind a large bush.

Although the waterfall was a good hundred feet away, its constant thunder thwarted his attempts to call out an apology. Instead, he finished dressing, using his sleeveless shirt to dry his chest and arms. Then he spread it on the grass beside him for the sun to do its work.

Much to his disappointment the woman remained hidden.

Not that he would soon forget her.

From the glimpse he had gotten before she'd slugged him, he knew she was lovely, that she had long blond hair darkened by the water, and that she had been absolutely naked.

He touched his jaw gingerly.

Her slap had been pretty good, too. He had a feeling she'd had lots of practice with that swing.

He smiled and shook his head. It figured. Salmoneus and a beautiful woman come into his life on the same day—one wanted him to save a business, the other wanted to take off his head.

He didn't bother looking around; he didn't think he'd be able to find a cave.

Yet it would be nice if, once dressed, she showed herself so he could tell her he was sorry. And seeing her again wouldn't be all that terrible either.

He tensed then, waiting for an all-too-familiar pang of guilt, and was a little surprised, and saddened, when it didn't happen. A long time had passed since the murder of his wife and children, and it had taken all of that time for him to finally understand that nothing he did was going to bring them back.

He missed them, and he knew that would never leave him. Nor would he ever be free of the ache that sometimes came in the middle of the night, when their absence was felt more strongly. When he was alone.

But they were gone.

Forever.

And he, whether he liked it or not, was still here.

He sighed, and wiped his face with a palm.

The woman remained out of sight.

A few minutes later, he decided she had left, had slipped into the trees and away. Ah well, he thought, and put on his shirt; another time, maybe.

He stood, massaged the back of his neck, and decided he might as well head for Phyphe and face Salmoneus. It was one thing to give assistance to those who needed it, those in danger or in need; it was something else again to see Salmoneus on his way to a fortune that, no matter how much the man protested, somehow didn't seem all that honest.

Besides, he was hungry.

One more glance at the opposite shore, and he headed for the road that would take him to the fork. He picked up a stone and tossed it at the stream, picked up another and skipped it across the surface.

When he reached for the third, however, he froze.

There on his right, by a large rock on the bank, was an uneven patch of black, as if the grass and the brush around it had been seared by fire-Frowning, he poked at it, brought the residue on his fingers to his nose and sniffed.

Ash, and it was still warm.

Something else. Something about the smell that refused to identify itself.

Yet there was no sign a fire had been built here, nor was there any reason why one should have been.

The ground sloped toward the stream; no one, experienced or not, would build a fire here. He hunkered down and balanced on his toes, searching for something that made sense.

Nothing did.

The brush and ground in the immediate area were untouched; there was no scent of smoke, no embers that he could see. But when he passed a palm over the center of the black patch, he could feel residual heat.

For an unnerving moment he thought Hera had tried to nail him with a lightning bolt while he'd been in the pool, but she had better aim than that. Besides, she would have fried the pool in order to boil him; that was more her style.

It was curious, but it didn't seem threatening.

One more glance around, one more check of the opposite bank, and he braced himself on the ground with one hand, ready to stand and be on his way.

That was when he saw the bone under the bush.

Suddenly not wanting to touch the scorched area again, he found a long thin branch and used it to poke the bone into the open.

As soon as he saw what it was, a chill skittered along his spine.

It wasn't a bone at all; it was part of a stag's rack.

And there, by his right heel, was part of a hoof.

Now he recognized the smell—it was flesh.

Burned flesh.

The first thing Hercules noticed when he reached Phyphe was the small arena constructed just west of town.

The second thing he saw was the caravans pulled up alongside the arena, and the crowd of children milling around them excitedly.

The third thing was a blur of billowing gold and white speeding toward him. Before he could get
out of the way, the blur embraced him hard enough to take the breath from his lungs and nearly knock him off his feet.

"Hercules! I knew you wouldn't fail me! I knew it, I knew it! You're a man of honor who deserves his own palace on Olympus!"

Hercules looked down at the partially bald skull and sighed with a pained smile. "Salmoneus, I think—"

But Salmoneus grabbed his arm and tugged him toward the wagons. "Come, come, you have to meet the others." He lowered his voice. "They don't know who you really are, though. And watch out for Dragar. I think he's practicing picking pockets or something."

"Salmoneus, we have to talk."

"Later, later, there's no time now. Don't you see what joy I've brought to this miserable little place?

Can't you see the goodness of my work?"

Actually, Phyphe didn't seem to be all that miserable. The buildings Hercules could see appeared well constructed and clean, and the people did not appear to be suffering from abject, or even remote, poverty.

He stopped abruptly, nearly yanking Salmoneus off his feet. "We have to talk," he insisted.

At which point a young blonde in an outfit guaranteed to make Aphrodite gnaw jealously on one of her golden apples walked up, said, "You again!" and slapped Hercules a good one before stomping away.

Salmoneus gaped. "Wow," he said. "That usually doesn't happen to me until after the first night."

Hercules only grinned. He might have taken offense had he not noticed that she had been blushing when she struck him. Which, he figured, meant she had seen him as well. Very well, in fact.