Angie yawned and stretched, vaguely aware that Cat was already up. Last night had been almost magical, sleeping next to Cat; her head had rested on the older woman's shoulder, the warrior's arm draped over her body, holding her close. They slept in their clothes, both of them uncomfortable this close to Callisto's Realm, but that only served to enhance Angie's memories of Xena and Gabrielle's early years on the road, when they would sleep together for warmth, or to stave off bad dreams. Angie had never slept better than she did in Cat's arms.

A gentle rapping brought Angie to full wakefulness, and she quietly got out of bed as Cat answered the door. To her surprise the trader stood there, looking entirely too cheerful for this early in the day.

"Shall I come in?" he asked. "Or do you wish to discuss your business in the hall?"

Cat stepped back and gestured the man into the room.

"What makes you think I have business with you?" Cat put on her best "don't-mess-with-me-little-man" attitude.

"You were asking around about merchants going to Boston," the man replied. "I'm the only one headed that way."

Angie found the trader's voice pleasant to listen to, soft and musical with a distinct British accent.

"I'm carrying dispatches back to Boston." Cat stuck to their cover story. "And I can't be slowed down by ...."

"Save your breath, warrior. I'll take your friend Boston, that's not a problem. But if you want to get anything done once you get there, I'd suggest getting rid of that Hell-Hound costume."

"Who are you?" Cat's voice was as cold as the dagger she now held at the man's throat.

"My name is Lee Chattam." The trader's eyes flicked down to Cat's hand. "You can put the knife away, I mean you no harm."

"And I'm supposed to take your word on that?"

"Cat, I trust him." Angie stepped forward, placing a hand on her companion's shoulder. She felt the muscles tense briefly, then relax.

"You'll attract too much attention in that uniform; the Hell-Hounds are not usually in the city for more than a day or so," Lee explained. "Lose the studded leather and replace the red belt with a black one; you'll pass for one of the local troops."

"Who are you?" Cat asked again.

"Just a trader . . . who happened to see you almost hang in Garrison." His eyes drifted back to the knife, until Cat slowly pulled her hand away from his throat and slid the blade back into its sheath.

"I trust you," Angie said, "but I don't believe you."

"Let me guess," Cat drawled. "You're either a spy for Callisto, which I doubt since my friend trusts you, or you spy on Callisto for someone else."

"Spying on Callisto is a fool's errand." Lee grinned. "I just mind my own business and keep my eyes and ears open. And I occasionally help people cross the border, in both directions."

Cat held the man's gaze, wondering what made Angie so sure about him. For a brief moment she saw an agelessness in his eyes that belied his apparent youth, then it was gone, replaced once again with a jovial twinkle.

"If you're going to play courier, you'd best get going." Lee pulled a watch out of his pocket and checked the time. "The sun will be over the horizon within the hour; a Hell-Hound courier would be on the road well before then. And if you're going to travel with me," he looked at Angie, "you can help me get the wagon loaded. With two of us it shouldn't take long at all. I'll be waiting for you downstairs."

Stunned by the man's audacity, Cat and Angie stood speechless as he opened the door and strode out of the room. The sound of the door closing behind him seemed to break the spell, and the two women looked at each other in amazement.

"And I thought I had an attitude!" Cat commented.

"He does seem quite sure of himself." Angie laughed. "Don't worry, by the time we get to Boston I'll have learned everything about him."

"Yeah, but how much will he have learned about us?"

Angie stared up at the endless expanse of stars as she pondered the events of the last five days. Her stomach still twisted into knots when she remembered the border garrison, a large fortress built along both sides of the road for almost a hundred yards, with a large gate at each end. Travelers not wanting to be pursued by Callisto's troops had to pass through the garrison, usually spending the night there, as the nearest town on either side of the border was a full day's ride away. Lee had told her the particulars in advance, warning her about the questions she would be asked, and suggesting that she present herself as his assistant-his mute assistant, if she could keep quiet for twelve hours. Knowing full well that she would blow that plan within minutes, she countered with the idea they eventually settled on, passing herself off as a foreign exchange student who had gotten stranded in America by the Storm.

Angie's Russian was almost as flawless as her Greek, and her faculty with accents significantly improved over Gabrielle's, so she became Katerina Marchinko, from Kursk. But the officer at the gate spent almost an hour questioning her, well aware of the reward offered to the soldier who detained a certain blonde storyteller that Callisto sought, and somewhat suspicious of her accent (despite the fact that the only Russian he had every heard was in the movies). The officer eventually remembered that one of his men spoke Russian, and it took only a few minutes of questions and answers through the translator to convince the officer she was nothing more than a trader's assistant.

Angie had been convinced that her cover was blown, until he brought in the translator. Now she thanked the gods again for blond, sad-eyed Yuri, the son of one of her uncle's research assistants, and the only boy she had ever kissed. She hoped he had survived the Storm.

The rest of the week had been easy, as she and Lee made their way from town to town. Lee preferred to camp between communities, arriving in town around mid-morning, leaving by mid-afternoon. Most of Lee's business seemed to be the delivery of special orders, and everyone seemed to know him; when they arrived at the first town Angie was reminded of a scene from an old movie musical where the townspeople all come out to meet the Wells Fargo wagon. One thing was obvious: Lee was well-known and well-liked. Even the soldiers tended to relax a bit in his presence.

Lee Chattam. Angie felt that she had gotten to know the trader fairly well in the five days they had been travelling together. An up-and-coming scholar, Lee had been a guest lecturer at Harvard, teaching a seminar on the judiciary and penal systems of ancient and medieval cultures, when the Storm hit. Fascinated by the evolving regime in what was once Massachusetts, but unwilling to be a permanent part of it, he had decided to take to the roads as a trader, an occupation he was immanently suited for, in Angie's opinion. It had only taken a few minutes of listening to him discussing prices with a customer for her to realize that she NEVER wanted to haggle with this man.

Angie's musings were interrupted by the distinct sound of a dry branch being stepped on by something large and bi-pedal. Slowly Angie reached for the staff lying at her side. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Lee reach under the wagon and pull forth a sword she knew was not there when they made camp. Come to think of it, she had not seen Lee with a weapon of any kind until now.

Contemplation of this new aspect of her traveling companion was put on hold as several men entered the small clearing. Almost in unison Angie and Lee rolled to their feet, ready to defend themselves against the intruders.

Looking at the three men before her, Angie was surprised that she had not smelled them earlier. All three wore the remnants of military uniforms, unit patches long faded into unrecognizability, and sported unkempt hair and scraggly beards. One of them, a six-foot-six brick wall disguised as a person, took one look at her and smiled.

"Let's not hurt her, boys," Brickwall ordered.

"Yeah, she looks like she'd be good for a couple of weeks at least." The speaker, a rat-faced little man holding a Marine dress saber, stepped forward. "C'mon, girlie, drop the stick and make nice."

"Excuse me, gentleman," Lee called back over his shoulder, his eyes never leaving the other four men, "but if you're going to attack us could you get on with it? The lady and I would like to go back to sleep."

"You heard what the man said, boys." Brickwall grinned maliciously. "Let's get this over with. Just make sure the 'lady' is still in a condition to keep us entertained later."

Angie felt Lee move from behind her as Ratface lunged for her, trying to grab her shirt. She quickly sidestepped and brought her staff around in a swift arc, striking the back of the man's knees. As Ratface fell she smoothly altered her grip and thrust the staff at the side of his head. One down, two to go. Plus however many Lee was facing.

Brickwall and his companion never saw Ratface go down; instead they watched in horrific fascination as their other intended victim lashed out with his silvery-bladed sword, opening one man's throat and another's belly. Lee whirled, flicking his sword so that the blood on the blade flew off into Brickwall's face, then snapped back around, stopping with his back to Angie and his blade pointing at his two remaining opponents.

"Well, 'boys'-shall we call it a night, or do you wish to discuss the matter further?"

Lee watched impassively as the two men before him ran into the woods as if chased by the Headless Horseman. Behind him, Angie stood amazed as a now pale-faced Brickwall and his companion did likewise, leaving the unconscious Ratface to face his fate alone. Once they were gone she turned, seeing for the first time the results of Lee's swordwork.

"It seems they had enough discussion for one evening." Lee reached into the wagon and pulled out a cloth. "And now we need to find a new campsite, before any predators decide that we're part of the buffet."

"What about him?" Angie asked, gesturing at the unconscious form beside her.

"We'll tie him up and take him to the next town." Lee grinned. "When we tell the garrison commander what happened, he'll either be executed or offered a commission."

Angie watched silently as the trader wiped the rest of the blood off his blade, then placed it back somewhere under the wagon.

"Where..?"

"I've got a small compartment on the underside of the seat." Lee began picking up his bedding. "Callisto's soldiers are the only ones allowed to even own swords."

"But they searched the wagon when we crossed the border - why didn't they find it?"

Lee just grinned, and Angie suddenly felt like she didn't really know him at all.

"Okay, girl, this looks like a good spot."

Cat slid gracefully from Gekkani's saddle and looked around the clearing. Almost a hundred yards off the road, a stream only fifty feet away, this was definitely a good spot. Most importantly, it was a mile away from the soon to be decaying remains of Sergeant O'Shea and his unit, whom she had the misfortune to encounter on their way to meet now non-existent unit at the border. They had, of course, recognized both Cat and the uniform she wore; she had no choice but to kill them.

It took Cat only a few minutes to set up camp. After getting water and feeding Gekkani and herself, she walked back over to the patient mare and began what was now a nightly ritual. Gekkani saw her rider approach with the items that meant another long grooming session, or as the horse thought of it, a long time of good feelings and love.

"You know," Cat said conversationally as she began combing out the mare's long mane, "if someone had told me, even a year ago, that one day I'd even be talking to a horse, much less that the horse would understand every word I said, I'd have thought they were nuts. But here I am, and here you are, and maybe I'm the crazy one because I'm certain that you understand every word I'm saying!"

Cat was not the least bit surprised when a golden head nodded almost comically.

"So, maybe I am crazy, but if I am it's all because of a certain fair-haired storyteller who's turned my world upside down. Do you want me to braid it tonight?"

Gekkani shook her head violently.

"Guess not. What should I do, Gekkani? I know we have to stop what's happening with the gods, but what about later? What if she doesn't really love me, what if she's just experiencing Gabrielle's feelings for Xena?" Cat traded the comb for a hoofpick and began tending to the mare's feet. "I know-if I run away from her I'll never know for sure. Well, I'm not running this time. I've run away from every possible lover since Kiki took off with that body-building bimbo from California because I swore I'd never let anyone hurt me like that again. But this time I'm not running."

Cat suddenly realized that the mare was starting to lean against her, an equine way of saying "Put my foot down!"

"Oops, sorry, girl, didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." Cat gently lowered the mare's leg and put the hoofpick down. "So, I'm not going to run away from her. I know how I feel about Angie, and I know I want to spend the rest of forever with her. I almost hope I never regain my memories from Xena's life, because...."

Cat paused as she noticed Gekkani looking at her strangely.

"What? Oh, the Xena thing? Funny, it sounds like a crazy tale made up to get me to help her, but somehow I just know it's true. I WAS Xena: defender of Amphipolis, warlord of Ares, lover of Gabrielle. I may not remember any of it, but I believe it. And I don't need to remember; Angie said that after they almost destroyed each other between the Hope thing and the China thing they never kept secrets from each other again, except for gifts and such. So anything Xena knew about Callisto and Ares and the big D, Gabrielle knew, which means Angie knows, so I don't need to remember, she can just give me the info as needed."

Cat fell silent as she started brushing the golden coat. Minutes passed as she silently contemplated the memory question, carefully searching her mind and heart for what she wanted.

"Actually, I don't want to remember."

Barely had the words left her lips than a bolt of lightning streaked from the sky and engulfed the raven-haired warrior. A lifetime passed before her eyes in an instant, a life she recognized as not hers, but Xena's. A lifetime of pain and comfort, hatred and love, anger and peace, killing and healing-but the good times, the peaceful times, were so overwhelmed by the bad times, the dark times, that they might as well not have been there. Cat's mind was assaulted with memories, memories of blood and violence, of power and lust, rage and darkness; so intense and disturbing were these memories that her mind took the only reasonable course of action.

Gekkani lowered her head and nudged the collapsed form of her rider, trying to wake the woman so they could get to shelter. Didn't she know a storm was coming?

Lee discreetly watched his travelling companion as he started dinner preparations. The young storyteller sat with her back against a tree, intently scribbling in the journal Lee had given her. The trader smiled, remembering the look of pleasure on Angie's face upon receiving the leather-bound book.

He had just turned his attention back to the stewpot when a wordless scream broke the silence. Looking up again, Lee saw Angie laying in a tight ball at the base of the tree, her body shaking as she repeated the same words over and over.

"I'm coming, Cat! Hold on, I'm coming!"

Within minutes Lee had their gear packed up and back in the wagon, except for two bowls of stew. He was not certain exactly what was going on, but one thing he knew: it was time for Angie to rejoin her warrior.

Trilling her inimitable warcry Xena sprang from the saddle and joined the battle. As was her habit, she had waited until the need to feel her blade slicing through the bodies of her enemies had grown too intense to ignore any longer. Seconds later her first victim fell; the release that accompanied that death flooded her body with energy. Each time she thrust her sword into an enemy's body, or tasted the blood that soon coated her from head to foot, another orgasmic rush threatened to overwhelm her senses. Slashing and thrusting, spinning and flipping, she carved a bloody path from one end of the battlefield to the other. By the time the battle ended, she was drenched not just in blood, but also with the evidence of her pleasure, a pleasure she would further indulge with the slave that had earlier caught her eye, a young woman with red-gold hair and defiant emerald eyes . . . .

"Gabrielle . . . Angie . . . ."

Cat tossed and turned, her time as the Destroyer of Nations still dominating her memories. A full day had passed since Xena's memories had overwhelmed her mind, and another day passed as she drifted in and out of awareness, never realizing that she was no longer in the clearing with Argo, or that she was no longer alone.

The images faded, and darkness surrounded her. The smell of blood faded, and the distinct scent of well-maintained leather and metal filled the air. A soft voice whispered in her ear.

"I've missed you, Xena."

She turned to face the dark man.

"Ares. . ." she purred.

"Come back to me, Xena. Come home." Ares pulled her close. "Together we can rule the world."

"Together. . ." She kissed Ares hungrily. "Together, we can rule the universe."

"Welcome home, my Warrior Princess."

A Japanese woman, wearing black jeans and a gold sweatshirt, entered the room quietly and knelt next to her patient. Gently she brushed sweat-soaked hair off the fevered forehead, pleased to find that the fever had broken at last. In the Mirror she had watched the warrior's dreams, distressed at the cleverness of the trap Ares had set. The restored memories were complete only for the time when she was the War God's favorite general; memories of the years before were faded and blurred, memories of her heroic adventures with the bard limited to the darker times when she had momentarily re-embraced the darkness.

Not even Amaterasu knows how this battle will end, the woman whispered. Fight against the darkness, Cat. You never let Ares win in the past, don't let him win now.

When she finally regained consciousness on the third day, the warrior was surprised to find herself laying on a futon in a sparsely decorated room. The Japanese décor and architecture comforted her somewhat, as did the visible presence of her weapons and equipment. Weak from her ordeal, she tried to stand, only to have the room start spinning around her. Not until her third attempt did she make it to her feet, managing to take a few steps toward the door before collapsing from exhaustion.

"You should not be up yet."

Cat looked up into soft black eyes filled with concern. A young Japanese woman looked down at her, her expression a mix of concern and amused disapproval. The face was familiar; Cat tried to place it, but her mind was too fuzzy.

"Yes, Cat-san, we have met before. Six years before the great makaze you came to my father's shop because he was late on a loan payment. . . ."

"Tammy Hidachi." Cat remembered her now, she had kept an eye on the girl all that summer, much to Ryu's dismay. But this was not the Americanized teenager she remembered; despite the jeans and sweater, her posture and speech revealed a true daughter of Amaterasu.

"I am called Kagami now, Cat-san." Kagami gracefully helped Cat to her feet, silently thanking her goddess that Cat had not yeilded to the darkness.

A small shrine in one corner, a new name meaning mirror, addressing Cat as an equal - Cat's tired mind took a few moments to put the pieces together.

"You became a priestess."

"I have the great honor to serve Amaterasu Omikami, yes." The priestess helped Cat to the only chair in the room. "You, too, have changed."

"Have I?" Cat's mind was briefly overwhelmed once again with memories of blood and power.

"You have found your path, Cat-san. You have found your soul. Do not let dark memories drive you astray."

"Dark memories." Cat's voice was filled with self-loathing as she carefully attempted to stand again, making it to her feet on the first try. "I laughed as I ordered men slaughtered. I got as much pleasure out of thrusting my sword into a soldier as I did thrusting my hand into a virgin." Cat dressed carefully, trying to ignore the way the room spun around her.

"That was not you," Kagami responded. "That was the person Ares created."

Cat looked at the priestess, confusion on her face, a faint glimmer of hope in her eyes.

"Come, it is easier to show you than to explain." Kagami slid the door open and gestured for Cat to follow. She led the warrior to a larger room, obviously used as a temple. At one end of the room, behind a small altar, stood a large mirror, five feet tall and three feet across, in a gilded frame.

"This is the Mirror of the Sun," the priestess explained. "In it can be seen all the truth that Amaterasu Omikami wishes us to see. Look now, and see the truth of the Warrior Princess."

As the two women watched the mirror grew dark, then filled with an image. It was Xena, dirty and bloody, in the middle of a battle -- a young Xena, without her trademark armor or chakram. Across the battlefield a young man with fair hair downed his opponent and waved.

"Lyceus!" Cat instinctively reached out, seeing in one brother the face of another.

A figure appeared behind Xena, indistinct at first, solidifying into a familiar form. As Ares' face became recognizable, Cat noticed for the first time a sort of glow around Xena's body, a hazy aura of gold with swirls of red.

"What is that glow around me?"

"That is the color of your soul," the priestess answered. "Watch it carefully."

Ares stepped around Xena, moving toward her brother. He stepped right into the body of one of the raiders, and within moments Lyceus fell to the War God's sword.

Half-blinded with tears, Cat almost missed what happened next. The battle over, Xena knelt next to her brother's body, oblivious to the presense of Ares behind her. The War God reached out and touched Xena's shoulder, and as his hand pulled away a black glow surrounded the gold one, a black glow with a thin black strand leading back to Ares.

The scene shifted, showing various scenes from Xena's early years as a warlord. With every betrayal, with every death of someone she cared about, the strand binding her to Ares grew thicker and stronger. And everytime, Ares played a personal part in the event.

Then, Hercules appeared, and the link to Ares grew weaker. Cat watched as Ares arranged the gauntlet Xena's army put her through, and as the very presense of Hercules strengthened the faded gold glow underneath the darkness. But nothing she had seen prepared her for what happened next.

Unarmored, unarmed, Xena watched as a stubborn village girl stood up to slavers. Without thinking she stepped in to save the girl, almost unaware of the other women present. Then the girl's eyes met hers, and the golden glow of her soul flared, and the black strand leading to Ares disintegrated. In its place appeared a strand of silver and gold, connecting the golden aura around Xena to the silver aura around the girl. Gabrielle.

"Xena still felt Ares' influence for many years," Kagami commented as the mirror faded to black, "and he even tried to bring Gabrielle to his side. But their bond withstood his every effort."

"Their love was that strong?"

"Not just love, Cat. Two halves of the same soul, united at last. None of us is complete in and of ourselves, but few of us ever find the missing part of our soul." The priestess smiled. "Aphrodite probably claims that she personally forged the bond between you, but all she did was reinforce it. Look."

Another image appeared in the mirror, this time an abstract of hundreds of strands of light.

"What is it?"

"The Fates have allowed me to show you this. This strand is yours." Kagami pointed to a golden thread. "And this one is Angie's." A silver thread. "This section represents many lifetimes."

Cat's eyes followed the strands in both directions, observing how they repeatedly wove themselves together, then separated for short distances, then twisted together before weaving into one strand again.

"Where they are separate indicates the early part of your lives, before you meet again. The twisted sections are your lives together."

"What about the sections when they weave into a single strand?" Cat asked.

Kagami smiled.

"Those are the times between mortal lives, when your souls can truly unite. Any other questions?"

"Just one."

Cat turned to the priestess, silent for a moment, her expression unreadable. A great fear overwhelmed Kagami, fear that Cat would ask for the one piece of information forbidden to her – a fear that was realized when Cat finally spoke.

"Who was Xena's father?"

A sense of total stillness radiated from the garden where Cat sat meditating, her mind and soul struggling to absorb the many images the mirror had shown her. A small voice from the logical, analytical part of her mind whispered that she had finally gone mad, and this was all nothing more than the delusions of a fractured mind. But a louder voice from the very core of her being shouted in exultation that here was the truth, the reality of her existence. And now, surrounded by the soft glow of twilight, Cat was finally able to silence that little voice of logic, and accept what her soul had known all along. She was Xena, a mighty princess forged in the heat of battle....

... And currently being watched from the surrounding woods. Cat still did not understand the dramatic increase in the sharpness of her senses, but she definitely appreciative them. Then she heard the sound of footsteps approaching-- one person, no, two people, the second person's presence detectable only by the sound of a second voice. But the first person, now those footsteps she recognized. And as the newcomers approached the gate, a sense of completeness filled her, and words rushed unbidden from her heart.

"I'm back, my bard." The ancient Greek words rolled smoothly passed her lips as she smoothly rose to her feet and turned to face the other half of her soul. "I'm home."

For two hours Lee had followed Angie through the woods, not quite believing that the young storyteller knew where she was going. Angie had tried to explain to the trader that she just knew, but she could tell that the trader just didn't understand. She had even tried describing it as a type of "Cat-radar", which just make the trader laugh. Then they had seen the house, and the gate that Angie's chosen path led straight to, and the figure kneeling in the garden, and Lee had started to apologize. But his apology was interrupted by a soft, familiar voice. Angie's heart stopped as Cat's words-- no, Xena's words-- entered through her ears and went straight to her soul. They were the same words, the very same words that Xena had said to Gabrielle on that dark night many lifetimes ago....

Xena sat on a fallen log, staring across the fire to watch her companion as the bard tried to update her journal-scroll in the flickering firelight. Several minutes had passed since Xena last heard Gabrielle's quill scritch across the parchment, and the warrior could see the reflection of dancing flames in the tears that ran quietly down the bard’s face. Feelings Xena had thought herself no longer capable of surged against the emotional dam she had erected years ago. Nervously she licked her lips, the sweet lingering taste of ambrosia somehow giving her the courage to speak.

"Gabrielle?" At the sound of Xena's voice the bard looked up, trying to surreptitiously wipe away her tears. "C' m' ere." Xena patted the log next to her. Quietly Gabrielle rose and walked around the fire to sit next to the friend she thought she had lost forever.

As Xena looked into her companion's eyes, the dam around her heart finally cracked, and she allowed herself to feel, really feel, for the first time in years. She looked at the irritating, naive, stubborn girl from Poteideia, and saw a beautiful, wise, compassionate young woman, a young woman who had somehow become her home.

Sitting next to Xena Gabrielle could no longer hold back the tears. So she let them flow freely, her head on Xena's shoulder, as the former warlord carefully wrapped strong arms around her.

"I thought I'd never see you again," she sobbed. "I didn't know what to do. I kept thinking about all the places we kept meaning to visit, all the plans we had made-- all the things I never said...."

"You don't have to say anything," Xena said softly, as she stroked Gabrielle's hair. "I heard your thoughts, remember?" Then Xena gently lifted Gabrielle's chin, and lightly brushed her lips against the bard's. A second kiss followed the first, and then a third, then Gabrielle stopped counting.

“It’s all over now,” Xena reassured her young companion. “I’m back, my bard. I’m home.”

Kagami smiled as she watched the warrior and the bard lose themselves in a tight embrace. The Chosen Ones had been fully reunited, and could now face Ares and his master; her task was complete. She only hoped that Cat had understood the secrets the mirror had revealed, had found the answer to the question that the Fates themselves had hidden.

The priestess’ skin tingled as she felt a presence behind her, a presence she did not recognize. Turning, she saw a tall man, long of limb and pleasant of face, with long, wavy brown hair and eyes that twinkled with joyous mischief.

“Good evening.” She bowed politely, then her curiosity got the better of her. “Who are you?”

“A simple trader, doing what I can to help the Warrior and the Bard.” Lee’s eyes twinkled as he grinned. “I take it you are the priestess here?”

“Yes.” Kagami opened her sight, trying to see the color of the trader’s soul. She saw … nothing.

“No need to be rude, priestess.” Lee sounded slightly insulted. “You could just ask.”

“Would you answer?”

“No. I cannot.” Lee’s demeanor turned serious as he lowered his voice. “I swore when I came here that I would reveal as little as possible to as few as possible, so that He doesn’t look too closely at me. I am an observer, a minor player at best. And that’s all you need to know.”

“Well, I see you two have met.” Cat stood watching the trader and the priestess, her arm draped comfortably around Angie’s shoulders.

“Um, I don’t know about anyone else…” Angie was interrupted by low growling sounds issuing forth from her belly. “…but I’m starving.”

Cat laughed, and pulled the storyteller into a warm embrace. It was nice to know that some things never change.

“Artemis, do you know who he is?” Athena’s eyes never left her scrying pool, or the face of the mysterious trader reflected therein.

“Whoever he is, he’s cute!” Aphrodite leaned over the pool to get a closer look. “Would you take a look at those eyes?”

“’Thena, I have no idea who that man is, but I can tell you this…” The original patroness of the Amazons glanced only briefly at the image. “He doesn’t belong here.”

“He most certainly doesn’t.”

The soft voice came from behind the three goddesses, who looked up in surprise at the visitor they had not felt enter.

“I don’t know who he is, but he doesn’t seem to be interfering…” Ameterasu continued “…too much.”

“But, who is he?” Aphrodite looked frustrated.

“Whoever he is, the Evil One will most definitely not be expecting him.” Aphrodite sounded thoughtful.

“Indeed.” A small smile danced across Ameterasu’s features. “He seems to be of great power, but is hiding that power well.”

“He said he had promised not to reveal himself…” Artemis pondered. “Promised who?”

“Like, who cares?” Aphrodite started primping, using the scrying pool as a mirror. “All I want to know is, does he like blondes?”

“You will have to forgive her,” Athena apologized to Amaterasu. “She hasn’t quite finished going thru puberty yet.”

“He is definitely off limits,” Artemis commented.

“Agreed.” Athena’s stern look stopped the love goddess’s objections. “If one of us appears in the mortal realm, even if it’s just ‘Dite cooling her hormones, we may draw the Evil One’s attention where we don’t want it.”

“Are we sure he doesn’t know about this…trader already?”

“If he did, Artemis, he surely would have done something about him.” Amaterasu gestured to the image in the pool. “Look at how completely he has shielded himself. He must control powers that would rival our own.”

“I hope you’re right.” Athena looked at the mysterious trader, laughing with the Bard and the Warrior over dinner. “Because if you are, and he is here to help, then we might just win this war after all.”

“And if I’m wrong?” Amaterasu asked.