Angie moved cautiously thru the building, thankful for the small flashlight Cat had produced out of her pack. The batteries were weak, and would probably be drained in less than an hour, but Angie was confident that she and Cat would be well on their way by then.

Getting into Boston had been almost disappointingly easy - they just rode in on the trader’s wagon, Lee and Angie on the seat, Cat in the back watching Gekkani and BeeBay, whose reins were tied to the back on the wagon. Cat had abandoned the Hell-Hound uniform in favor of her own, more comfortable clothing, and had splinted her leg to make it appear broken. The guards at the city entrance did not even look at the face of the “poor young fella with the shattered leg” the trader was helping out.

The storyteller shook her head in disbelief as she remembered how one of the guards had even called out “Hope the leg heals well, son!” as they passed thru the gate. How could anyone even glance at Cat and think she is a he?

Lee had left them to their mission soon after, as he headed to the marketplace. Cat and Angie had found a quiet spot in the ruined remains of a residential area, a place with water (an old kiddie pool filled with rainwater), shelter (the roof was almost completely intact), and a place for the horses (no cars in the garage). When the sun finally disappeared below the horizon, they started off for the museum, using as their landmark the only building over four stories left standing - Callisto’s Fortress.

Ice had described very clearly where the museum was in relation to the former high-rise apartment building, and they had no difficulty finding it. Angie had been surprised to find the building relatively untouched by looters, until Cat reminded her of the strict discipline maintained in Callisto’s Realm. Many of the more valuable gems and jewelry pieces had been removed, but many still remained. There was no guard on the building, but in a town where all crimes were punished by either enslavement or death, people tended to think twice about stealing anything their ruler had declared “Hers”.

More concerned about walking out into a guard patrol than what might be inside, Cat had sent Angie to find the Hind’s Blood alone. The warrior had taken up a post in the shadows of the entrance, almost invisible behind the carved pillars lining the front of the building.

Lost in thought, Angie missed seeing the room she was looking for until she had almost passed it completely. But the beam from her flashlight fell on the red velvet ropes, and the “display closed” sign that little Ruth had described. And there IT was, the golden chest filled with jewelry and bottles and trinkets, in a display billed as “The Treasures of Nefertiti”.

Angie couldn’t help but laugh. Egyptology was not her specialty, but she knew enough to tell at a glance that most of the items in the display came from a much later time period than Nefertiti. While some of it was older, most seemed to be from the time of Cleopatra and Caesar - and Xena and Callisto. The sight of one piece silenced her laughter, however, as that part of her that was Gabrielle recognized a pair of teak goblets she and Xena had gifted to the Queen of the Nile the last time they saw her.

A silent tear crept down Angie’s face as she carefully wrapped the goblets in a piece of velvet and tied them to her belt with a silken cord. Here at last was a tangible remnant of Gabrielle and Xena’s life together, a silent testimonial to the reality of their existence.

And not three feet away, in a golden chest, half buried inside a serpent armband, was the proof of Callisto’s existence - a small blue vial, not glass as Ruth had thought, but ceramic, the stopper sealed and stamped with Callisto’s mark. Angie stared at the small bottle in her hand, wondering if it would still have been there had Callisto’s seal been visible. She turned the vial over, end over end, and let out the breath she had not realized she was holding as she felt the liquid moving inside the vial.

The Hind’s Blood was theirs.

“They’re here.”

“Good, it’s about time.” The blonde warlord popped another grape into her mouth. “Have Ice take them to separate holding cells. We’ll keep them apart until after I have a little…chat with Xena.”

“Ice didn’t bring them; they came in thru the public gate with some trader. Then they took their horses and disappeared into suburbia.”

“What?!” Callisto lurched out of her chair and turned to face her ally. “Ares, if this is some kind of a joke….”

“No joke. After I found some dead Hell-Hounds within two days ride of here, I started checking the perimeter units. They came in around mid-afternoon.” Ares leaned against the doorframe and sighed. “And I had such hopes for Ice, and his lieutenant - what was her name? Ah, yes, Mallory.”

“Xena’s coming here….” Callisto laughed. “Xena’s coming here to kill me, just like she tried before. But it won’t work any better this time, because I know she’s here.” Callisto started pacing as she verbalized her twisted logic. “She’ll leave the brat out in suburbia, holed up somewhere, while she sets up a base of operations someplace closer, here in the city….but where?”

“Someplace fairly intact, easy to booby-trap, not in use.” Ares looked thoughtful for a moment. “I know where I would go if I were Xena - and since I taught her everything she knows….”

“Spill it, Ares. Where is she?” But the answer suddenly materialized in her head, and Callisto’s voice spoke in unison with her ally’s.

“The museum.”

In later years Cat would never be able to say with any certainty whether it was the sound of booted feet steeping in unison or the faint glimmer of light off of an earring that first alerted her to the approaching patrol; Angie would just smile and say it was her "Xena-sense" that made her step further back into the shadows and look down the street. Whatever the reason, she saw the soldiers when they were still a block away, and watched as they stopped outside the museum.

The Museum of Natural History, three buildings down and on the other side of the street.

By the time Angie came out of the Museum of African Culture twenty minutes later, Callisto’s soldiers had the other museum surrounded. They were so completely focused on carrying out Callisto's orders, to keep anyone from leaving the building, that they never noticed two figures slipping quietly thru the shadows behind them.

Guards had been doubled on the city gates, with strict orders not to let anyone in or out until dawn, and additional squads patrolled the walls inside and out. But by false dawn there was a line of people clammering to get out the gate, farmers and merchants who had come into the city for the weekly “Market Day” the day before and now wanted to get back to their homes and trade routes. So a runner was sent to Callisto’s Fortress, then another and another, until finally the blonde overlord relented and ordered the gates opened. Callisto herself appeared to watch the coming and goings thru the main gate until the boredom nearly put her to sleep, and Ares popped back and forth between the docks and the two smaller gates until his head and stomach started spinning in opposite directions -- but no one they saw looked even remotely like the Warrior or her Bard. The museum was empty, no new squatters were reported by the suburban patrols, and the trader they had arrived with was nowhere to be found.

Callisto’s Fortress almost didn’t survive the combined frustration of the God of War and his protégé.

And that evening, as the last of the daily traffic was leaving the city, an older woman trudged thru the gate leading a heavily laden, tired-looking horse. A few minutes later a Hell-Hound courier mounted on a frisky little bay gelding galloped out the gate as the guards were pulling it closed. The courier passed thru Zena, New York a week later, returning there in two days after delivering her missives; by coincidence a young lady of her acquaintance arrived in Zena that same day, with the news that Lee the Trader would be back in a few weeks. The courier and the young lady left together the next day, riding north.

That night Cat and Angie camped under the stars, and finally had a chance to discuss their Boston adventure. Warrior and Storyteller both came to the same conclusion:

As a mission it was an unqualified success.

As an adventure, it was . . . disappointing.

“What do you mean, they got out?” Callisto paced furiously around the room, glaring daggers at Ares at every turn. "Are we even certain they were actually here? Or was this some kind of diversion to keep us here while Xena plots our destruction? What if the people who reported seeing her were actually working for her? She may have agents right here inside MY base!” The blonde warlord turned to face her partner. “Or she could be HERE, right now!!”

“Would you please SHUT UP!” Ares growled. “She was here, she left. They were travelling with some trader, calls himself Lee Chattam; he’s been travelling in and out of the area since we took over.”

“Lee Chattam.” Callisto purred the name as she slinked over to her throne and sprawled in the padded seat. “Oh, I am going to enjoy questioning him. It’s been so long since I’ve interrogated anyone. I do hope he likes pain.”

“Sorry to disappoint, Blondie, but the trader’s gone, too.” Ares calmly sipped at his wine. “Last seen headed into New York. And with the losses we’ve already suffered, we can’t just send troops out looking for him, unless you want to put off our plans…?”

“No, we’ve got everyone in place. The trader will have to wait.” Callisto looked at the map spread out on the table, not even trying to mask her disappointment. “I still think we should position troops on the south side of the village. If Xena….”

“The troops outside town are just to keep people from interfering. Trust me, all you have to do is challenge her to a one-on-one and she’ll do it.” Ares pointed to the map. “Look. The Amazons have thirty-seven trained warriors, and the Comitatus have fifty-three. Haven doesn’t even maintain a standing force; there are only a handful of warriors from the other two communities living there. So with one company holding the road on the west, blocking the Amazons, and another holding the east road, blocking the Comitatus, we just ride in, challenge Xena, kill the chatterbox, and then…we party!”

“No more Xena, no more Gabrielle, just like that?” Callisto thought about it for a moment. “Too simple. Besides, aren’t you the one who taught me that no plan survives first contact with the enemy?”

“Exception to the rule, my dear.” The God of War filled Callisto’s goblet from a golden flagon. “By now, she’ll have heard rumors that we intend to take Garrison, and will have no idea we’re heading straight for Haven.”

“So, first we get Xena and the irritating blonde, then I can go find a trader who’s a traitor.” Callisto slowly drained the wine from her goblet. “Finally, some fun.”

The courier from Boston pushed on thru the night. According to the innkeeper in Zena, a Hell-Hound courier had left just that morning, apparently enjoying a few days of leave with some peasant-girl. With any luck the courier would catch up with them by morning, and the other courier would be able to tell him where the missing compnay of border-scouts was. Callisto’s orders had to be delivered quickly or he would be punished.

The flicker of flames caught his eye, and the courier brought his mount to a halt as he peered into the darkness. The camp was hard to spot, and would be impossible to approach quietly. Just the type of campsite he would have selected. Knowing better thatn to try to sneak up on one of Callisto’s elite, the courier carefully dismounted and called out.

“Hello the camp.”

No response except for a hint of movement in the shadows.

“By Ares’ grace….” The courier gave the standard recognition phrase.

“…and Callisto’s might.” The courier jumped as the response came from behind him. Turning, he saw a tall figure cloaked in cloth and shadow, the distinctive Hell-Hound armor visible in the starlight. “What do you want?”

“Sorry to disturb you, Hell-Hound, but I’m trying to find the Fourth Border Scouts. I have new orders for them, straight from Her hands.”

“The Fourth is on the other side of the river.”

“That’s what I thought, but I couldn’t find them. When the guards at the border garrison said you had come thru, I thought I’d see if you had seen them.” The courier pulled a canteen off his saddle and took a long drink of water. “Sure am glad I caught up with you.”

“So am I.” Cat stepped out of the shadows, her blue eyes radiant in the darkness. “Why don’t you give me those orders, and I’ll make sure they get to the right people.”

“Um, I, uh….” The courier hesitated, suddenly having the strangest thought that this might be someone impersonating a Hell-Hound.

“You can report that you handed the orders off to Lieutenant Mallory. Third Hell-Hounds.” Cat resisted smiling at the courier’s nervousness. “Or do I need to make that an order?”

“Uh, yes, ma’am, I mean, no ma’am.” The courier clumsily reached under his tunic and pulled forth a leather scrollcase. “Here, I mean, here you go, ma’am.”

“Thank you.” Cat took the tube and slipped it thru her belt. “Feel free to use the campsite; we were just leaving.”

Cat whistled, and the courier watched a beautiful horse the colors of moonlight walk out of the bushes, right over to the tall woman. She mounted in one smooth motion, and with a sharp nod of dismissal left the courier standing in the road as she urged her horse into a fast walk, heading north. Just before vanishing from the courier’s sight she was joined by a smaller, darker horse bearing a smaller rider. What he couldn’t see was….

Gabrielle was giggling. And within seconds, so was Cat.