Gabrielle encircled the older woman’s waist with one arm and, eyes closed, nodded her head against Xena’s back. "Uh hmmm," she murmured sluggishly, fighting the overwhelming urge to lean over the side and vomit. "But go slow, okay..."

"Let me know if you feel like getting sick again..." Again, the moist nod at her upper back. Gathering the reins in one hand and locking the other firmly over the clammy arm at her waist, Xena moved Argo on at a fast walk.

When the sun was at its zenith, the trio of road-weary travelers entered the Valley of the Dream Gods, an imposing landscape of sheer cliffs, black trees and dense greenery. Nestled in the dark heart of the valley, beside a fast-moving river, lay the small village of Thesilena -- a dozen or so thatched-roofed homes, two public houses, an open-air market and a livery and blacksmith’s, all spread at the feet of the temple du jour. It was an architectural scenario Xena had seen repeated a thousand times before, with one notable exception: at a time of day when the street should have been bustling with activity and life, it was empty.

"Xena..."

"So you’re awake back there at last..." Xena turned in the saddle and greeted the pale bard with a wry smile.

"Xena, where is everyone?"

"I don’t know..." As she moved Argo forward at a cautious walk, Xena’s sharp eyes traveled over the buildings, strained for a look inside darkened homes, marveled at the empty taverns, the child’s doll lying lifeless against a fence post. "I don’t think anyone’s been here for a while..."

"How can you tell?"

"No cook fires, not even a whiff of food...it’s been days since anyone’s lived here. The temple’s just ahead. I’m sure Elkton will have some answers."

"Good," replied Gabrielle with a bit of her old spunk. "I got questions."

The Temple of Morpheus came into view, dark stone blocks rising in a neat, if uninspired square, spider webbed by leafy vines. Xena felt Gabrielle's grip tighten and a slight shudder passed from the bard to the warrior. "Yeah, it’s a bit melodramatic, isn’t it?"

"Why are we here?" asked Gabrielle.

"I told you. Elkton sent for me. I'm not sure why yet." Xena reigned in Argo as two young men, dressed in the unmistakable garb of novitiates, emerged from the temple and stood, one to each side of the main entrance. Elkton, High Priest of Morpheus, clad in a voluminous and ornately-decorated plum-colored robe bustled, as much as a man of his age and carriage could bustle, through the temple threshold and down the stone steps to greet his guests. His face, older than Xena remembered, wore a look of pleased, but subdued surprise.

"Xena. I didn’t expect you until sunset."

Xena slung a leg gracefully over Argo’s head and slid down the mare’s withers. "Yeah, well, somewhere in the world it’s sunset, Elkton. Besides, I got the impression it was urgent." She and the mystic clasped arms. "New robes," she quipped, raising an eyebrow.

"Hand-me-downs," he said with a wink of studied benevolence. "More on that later. You and your friend must be tired indeed." Elkton approached and his old eyes squinted up at Gabrielle. "By Zeus! What happened to you, little one?"

"Gabrielle had a mishap on the road..." interjected Xena.

"Xena hit me."

The warrior and the priest both managed the same look of astonishment. "What?"

Elkton turned on Xena. "You hit her?"

"Now wait a minute..." stammered Xena, defensively.

"Did you hit her or not?"

"Elkton, she’s confused," said Xena with pronounced patience. "I did hit her...once. But that was along time ago under very difficult circumstances." Xena gave the bard a pained look and muttered pointedly, "And I thought we were even on that score..."

"Well," puffed Elkton, patting Gabrielle’s knee. "There’s obviously more to this story, but, for the mean time, let’s get the pair of you settled and fed, eh?" He turned to address the temple guards. "Phyus, water and grain for Xena’s horse."

Xena touched the young man on the arm as he moved past her. "Easy on the grain," she said, slinging her saddlebags over one shoulder. "She’ll make a pig of herself given the opportunity."

Elkton turned and reached up for Gabrielle; looking into those troubled blue eyes, those eyes which slanted into secrets at the corners, he saw something, some fleeting image, and then it was gone. "Let me help you, my dear."

Not a sign, my child...don’t give it away... Gabrielle allowed herself to be assisted from Argo’s back. "Thank you," she murmured and she felt the old mystic’s arm slide around her shoulder as he escorted her and Xena inside the temple.

"I hope you’re hungry. I have a pot of the most excellent lamb stew over the fire and a jug of port," he said, smiling at Xena with a twinkle in his eye. He led them through the maze of tunnels with the unerring certainty of a homing pigeon and babbled on about the fall harvest,

the scarcity of temple offerings and other matters as remote as the moon.

"Elkton," said Xena. "You got us here under some urgent pretext -- unspeakable evil, Lysandra said, or was that just a catchy phrase?"

"Maybe Elkton just doesn’t want to talk catastrophe on an empty stomach," piped Gabrielle, emboldened by the thought of a hot meal.

Elkton squeezed the girl’s shoulder. "You have the gifts of an oracle, my child," he said with laughing eyes. "That’s it exactly. Can’t we make small talk first?"

"Xena doesn’t do small talk..." said Gabrielle conspiratorially. "Straight to the heart of the matter, isn’t that right, Xena?"

Xena managed a quirky, patient smile. "Speaking of the heart of the matter," she said, one pace behind Elkton, "Maybe you’d care to tell me what happened to the population of the village we passed through on our way here."

Elkton’s bushy eyebrows came together in a thoughtful frown. "The two are interestingly enough very much connected, Xena," he said, diverting from the main hallway down a narrow corridor. "I’m afraid what I’m about to show you offers no answers, and will only inspire more questions." They walked in silence for a few minutes, occasionally passing pairs of temple priests, stationed at intervals along the passageway. The trio rounded a corner as the corridor emptied into a large cul du sac. Sunlight filtered through a bank of high windows and spilled down onto the stone floor illuminating the bodies of children, women and men, prone on straw palettes, and the temple priests who moved among them. Gabrielle tried, and failed, to suppress a gasp of horror.

Xena asked, "Are they ill, Elkton?"

"They’re asleep," replied the old mystic, his eyes roaming over the room, appreciating the way his fellow priests went about their duties, moving from one patient to the next, gently bathing them in arcama oil. "It happened over the course of a week...one by one they succumbed."

"Succumbed...succumbed to what?"

Elkton shrugged and rubbed at tired, red-rimmed eyes. "By the gods, I do not know, Xena, how a thing like this happens...a mother kisses her children goodnight and is unable to rouse them in the morning...a tired blacksmith naps under a shade tree and never awakens..."

"But you’re sure it’s not sickness. What does the village healer say?"

"Xena, he sleeps," replied Elkton, gesturing with his arm. "Somewhere in this room, he sleeps. He was consulted at first, but honestly admitted he could find no physical cause for the comas. I was sent for four days ago, but by then, more than three quarters of the villagers had been affected. I decided to move everyone here, where they could be more easily tended."

Gabrielle peeked out from behind Xena’s shoulder, her lips moving in a soundless head count. "So many children..." she said at last. "What’re you doing for them?"

"The only thing I know to do..."

"Arcama oil?" interjected Xena, and the old man nodded. "You suspect Morpheus?"

Elkton was quick to dismiss her suggestion. "No!" he exclaimed, and a number of his priests looked up from their work; Elkton adjusted his volume accordingly. "I could not continue to serve Morpheus if I suspected his involvement."

"Elkton," began Xena. "We both know that nothing happens in dreamscape without Morpheus’ knowledge."

"Oh, I didn’t say he didn’t know about it. But knowing about something, and giving sanction, are two very different things."

"So this is why you and your priests look like Tartarus itself."

"We don’t dare sleep, Xena. To sleep is to surrender...and I won’t do that," replied the

mystic firmly. "I regret involving you and Gabrielle, but I really saw no other way."

"If you’re wary of involving others, why use Lysandra? Why not contact me yourself?"

"I tried on my own, but I couldn’t clarify the message. No. I could only succeed in planting the seeds of unrest and unease."

"I see," said Xena, nodding. "I have you to thank for my nightmares..."

"Guilty, as charged. Though they didn’t exactly bring you rushing to my door. So, when I discovered you were in Amphipolis, I sent Lysandra for you."

"Elkton, ‘scuse me..." said a young priest as he nudged between the mystic and the warrior, supporting the slight frame of a sleeping child in his arms.

"Sweet gods!" exclaimed the mystic, the flat of his hand over his heart. "Silvus, don’t do that!"

"Sorry. I thought you heard me come in," replied the priest sheepishly.

"Where’d she come from?" asked Xena, giving the sleeping child a professional glance.

To Elkton. "I thought you said the village was empty."

"It is," interjected Silvus, shifting the child in his arms. "Lias and I found this one and three others at the crossroads not two leagues from here. We were returning from Thebes with supplies and nearly ran them over with the wagons. They were just...lying there in the middle of the road...as if they’d dropped in their tracks. A man and a woman, the parents, I suppose, are dead. Lias stayed to bury them while I came ahead with the children. There’s a twin to this one in my wagon."

"Here," volunteered Gabrielle. "Why don’t you let me take her?" she asked, already relieving the young man of his tiny burden.

"Thank you, miss," said Silvus. Then, to Elkton, "By your leave?"

Elkton snorted and waved him off. "By all means, don’t stand on ceremony, boy. Go! Go!" And the young man scurried away down the corridor while Gabrielle proceeded with the child into the makeshift infirmary. "Two leagues..." murmured Elkton. "This thing is as insidious as the plague." Elkton followed Xena’s gaze to Gabrielle. "You’re concerned about your friend."

Without taking her eyes from the bard, Xena responded, "Elkton, does she seem the same to you? Does she seem...alright?"

"My dear Xena, you would know that better than I." There was a weighty pause as warrior and mystic watched the bard’s ministrations from across the room. Finally, drumming his fingers thoughtfully on his lips, Elkton spoke. "What does she say about this, mishap, as you call it?"

"She won’t talk to me, Elkton...sketchy details at best. If I had gone with my instincts and pressed for information that first night, when she stumbled into camp, I might know a lot more about what happened." As she watched Gabrielle tending the comatose child, she punctuated her own confusion with, "But now...she’s moody, guarded, hostile. I can’t tell what she’s gonna do or say from one moment to the next."

"What do you mean?"

"There was an incident on the road," she said, fixing the old man with a troubled gaze. "Elkton, she nearly beat a man half to death, and for the life of me, I don’t know why. She doesn’t know why. At least that’s what she says."

"You think she’s lying to you?"

"No!" Xena countered passionately; from across the room, Gabrielle looked up just then, meeting Xena’s eyes briefly before returning to her work. Xena let Elkton steer her down the corridor, and out of earshot. "No," she repeated, almost thoughtfully.

"No, of course she’s not being consciously deceptive," Elkton interjected. "This is Gabrielle we’re talking about after all. But," he concluded tantalizing. "There may be other forces at work here."

"Other forces."

Elkton felt her stiffen beside him. "Walk with me. Hear me out." Elkton threaded his arm through Xena’s as they walked. "Tell me...how long were the two of you separated?"

"Ten days. Why?

"And she has no memory of that period?"

"None." Xena brought their progress to a halt beneath a statue of Morpheus, supine on an altar, supported by nameless minions; the irony did not escape her. "Elkton," she said, swallowing her annoyance. "What’re you getting at?"

"Ten days...I suppose it could be done..." His gaze centered on some principle invisible in the air before him while the fingers of one hand fretted thoughtfully with the stubble at his chin. "Ten days... constant psychic bombardment...under the right conditions...it could be done..."

Individual eccentricity was all well and good, but Elkton’s proclivity for the cryptic

was testing Xena’s patience. Irritation crept into her voice as she shook the priest from his musings. "Elkton!"

Elkton snapped to, regarding Xena gravely. "We need to talk."

"Talk? You mean where I ask questions and you actually answer them?" Xena snorted.

"What a novel idea. I am all ears, Elkton...like the jackass you’ve made of me today."

Elkton laughed mirthlessly and squeezed her arm. "Purely unintentional on my part, Xena.

My apologies. Come, we have much to discuss."

"Hey! Hey, wait up!" called Gabrielle, emerging from the dark end of the corridor.

"Yes, my dear, please, join us." Despite the tone of his words, Elkton’s entreaty lacked his innate sincerity, but the normally perceptive bard either didn’t notice, or chose to ignore it. "We were just on our way to the kitchens," elaborated Elkton, exchanging Xena’s arm for Gabrielle’s. "Are you hungry, my child?"

"After what I’ve just seen, I don’t think I could eat a bite," replied Gabrielle, allowing herself to be drawn down a well-lit passage. "What were the two of you talking about?"

"Elkton was just saying what a capable nurse you are," countered Xena; the lie lay flinty and dry on her tongue.

"That’s right. You have a natural gift," echoed the mystic, re-enforcing the lie with disturbing ease, although there had been nothing in Elkton’s character that suggested a propensity for deception. "It’s very generous of you to spell my priests in their labors. They’re very close to exhaustion themselves."

Gabrielle nodded, apparently sated by the performance. "I can see that." The scent of freshly-baked bread wafted up from the flight of stone steps leading to the kitchens and for once, it was Xena’s stomach, and not Gabrielle’s, that was heard to complain.

Elkton seized on the moment, using it to deflect further inquiries. "That’s Hesperos’ nutbread...best eaten while it’s hot. Kitchen’s just down these steps, mind how you go." He inhaled deeply and smiled. "You like nutbread, Xena?"

"I like it well enough," conceded Xena, a little irritated at so obvious a diversionary tactic. "Gabrielle’s the real connoisseur," she said with a concealed glimmer of humor.

"Oh, ha, ha, Xena. You know I’ve sworn off nutbread for Solstice," replied Gabrielle with commendable flippancy.

"Hesperos!" called Elkton as they entered the kitchen proper.

Hesperos, the cook, dusted in a fine layer of flour, looked up from the fat lump of dough he was kneading. His face, lighting on Elkton, registered a mixture of undisguised irritation and contempt. "Yes. Elkton."

"Food for a famished warrior and her companion," ordered the mystic, stepping aside to reveal his guests. "You may remember --"

"Xena..." Hesperos met Xena’s unflinching gaze, then nodded towards Gabrielle, "And Gabrielle...yes, I remember."

Gabrielle advanced a step on the cook. "I know you," she breathed.

"You’re Manus’ assistant..."

"Was..his assistant..." corrected Hesperos, chafing his hands together rather deliberately; little ropes of raw dough fell through his fingers to the stone floor. "Now a humble cook..."

Xena clasped her companion’s shoulder, moving her aside as she stepped up to Hesperos. Her sharp eyes appraised him critically. "From temple priest to cook...how does that happen?" She turned to Elkton. "Elkton, this man is partially responsible for the deaths of a half dozen girls; he should be in jail, at the least."

"Xena, Xena," soothed Elkton, taking the warrior by the elbow and steering her towards a chair. "The poorest use of a man is to kill him; the second poorest is to label him unsalvageable.

Hesperos has seen the folly of his alliance with Manus and has repented." Elkton graciously seated Gabrielle at the table. "Today, the most he can be accused of is letting the tea steep too long." He gave a sideways glance to Hesperos. "He may, at some point in the distant future, regain his title and privileges as a temple priest, but for now, he is working to prove himself. Isn’t that right, Hesperos?"

Hesperos, far from contrite, merely countered, "My tea...is always perfect."

Elkton, to his credit, was unflappable. "I think you might check on the others in the infirmary; there’s every chance the sweet aroma of your wonderful nutbread has roused the sleepers."

"I doubt it, old man," retorted Hesperos, invulnerable to the old mystic’s brand of flattery, but before leaving, he took a moment to cover the rising dough with a cloth.

"Rehabilitation through better baking," quipped Gabrielle, once Hesperos had left the room.

"Yeah. Original idea," said Xena. "How does that work, Elkton?"

"I must confess, Xena, that while my stomach has reaped the rewards of Hesperos’

redemption, my spirit has yet to feel the impact." Elkton ladled generous amounts of thick stew into wooden bowls. "You don’t have to trust him, Xena, to enjoy the fruits of his labor."

"It might make it go down a little easier," Xena replied, turning her attention to the food being set before her; the stew -- a concoction of fresh vegetables, thick gravy and a generous amount of lamb did smell wonderful.

Elkton set a mug of port in front of her. "Eat," he ordered, placing a spoon into her hand. "And then we’ll talk." He set a knife and a loaf of piping hot bread down on the table between the women.

"Nutbread...mmm..." Gabrielle closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. "It’s been a long time..." she said as she sliced into the bread. Xena allowed herself a smile at the bard’s enthusiastic attack on the hot nutbread while bringing a spoonful of the rich stew to her own lips.

His guests served, Elkton sat down heavily in a chair and rubbed his tired eyes. When he looked up, he found himself the object of Xena’s scrutiny. "I’m sorry. Did you say something, Xena?"

Xena swallowed. "I said the stew is good, and you look like Tartarus warmed over."

Elkton feigned interest in the dirty floor. "Talk to me, Elkton. What’s happening with the villagers?"

"The villagers are just a symptom of something bigger...something...malevolent," replied the mystic, running a hand over his face. "We’re not sure exactly what, but whatever it is, has taken hold of the dreamscape."

Xena crooked an eyebrow. "Manus?" She remembered that not only had the mystic been very powerful, but that he had been among Morpheus’ most favored until his fall from grace.

"You remember that Manus was banished into his own dreamscape," said Elkton, pulling a stray thread from his robe. "His body, what had been the vessel for that pitiful black soul, lays in the crypt beneath the temple, under guard night and day."

"Why under guard? I thought he would be dead by now," Xena said.

"Ordinarily, yes, the body would dehydrate and die within a matter of hours. The council’s view was ‘Where’s the punishment in that?’ so special conditions were devised to apply to members of the order who are banished to the Dreamscape."

You’re transparent, old man! Sanitizing your deeds with clinicisms. "Special conditions..." murmured Gabrielle, her fingers beating a frenetic tattoo on the tabletop. "Set down by you?"

Elkton greeted her deprecation with an innocuous smile. "I was among those who set the conditions, yes," he admitted, turning his eyes once again to the floor. "The banishment ritual commends the body to an altered state in the hopes they will someday see the error of their ways and return to us, forgiven and again favored by the Dream God Brothers."

"What happens if they don't repent?" asked Xena, noting Gabrielle’s agitation. "Do you just let them linger in that state?"

"If at the end of the High Priest's time the condemned has not repented, then the sword of Psyche is used to destroy the body, severing the condemned’s last tie with the flesh." He noted, with interest, Gabrielle watching him from her place at the table. "What is it, child?"

"Nothing," she replied, turning her attentions back to the bowl of stew before her.

"It’s nothing."

"Oh," countered Elkton, "but it must be something. You’ve denied it twice."

Inside Gabrielle’s head, Manus’ soft, terrible voice played out a self-serving monologue, alternately comforting and threatening, coaxing and cajoling. It held her too tightly, a stranglehold. It assaulted barriers, scaled walls and breached damns she had constructed to delay him. Surrender, much to Manus’ surprise came in the form of an impassioned defense of him. "It’s just..." she stammered, word seeking. "You keep referring to him as ‘the condemned’." She looked up and regarded Elkton with undisguised contempt. "Yet, you haven’t granted Manus the release of death. His torment is without end."

"Only so long as he remains unrepentant, child," countered Elkton.

Xena was quietly astounded. "Gabrielle, Manus was responsible for the death of a half dozen young girls. Do I have to remind you that you were nearly number seven?"

"I’m not defending him or what he did, Xena..." Silence! Be silent now! I am not ready to be revealed!

"It was justice, child," argued Elkton calmly.

Gabrielle shook her head in disgust. "I wouldn’t wish your justice on my worst enemy."

Oh, child...subtlety is not your gift...continue and she would play upon you like a lyre. "Even Callisto was shown more mercy than that." She picked up the knife and stabbed at the loaf of bread cooling before her. "At least her death was quick."

Xena ground her fingernails into her palms; Gabrielle couldn’t have chosen a more unfortunate analogy. She fought back the acid rejoinder knocking at her teeth and moved instead to change the subject. "Elkton," she said sharply. "What is it you need me to do?"

Elkton was slow to respond, his gaze fixed on the troubled young woman seated at the end of the table. "Xena, yes, I...your duty here would depend on a number of things..."

In her state of agitation, Gabrielle was keenly aware of two pairs of eyes on her as she picked disconsolately at her food. Presently, she pushed her bowl away and said, "Oh, for Gaia’s sake, Xena, now you’ve got Elkton doing it!"

Chewing thoughtfully on her food, Xena made no attempt to defend herself. She merely paused, spoon in midflight, and regarded her companion with quiet irritation. "Doing what?"

"Watching me!" Gabrielle sputtered, pushing away from the table. "It’s like you’re waiting for me to come apart!"

"Well, admit it. You’ve hardly been the epitome of consistent behavior now, have you?" Elkton, at that moment, chose to play the unpopular role of peacemaker. "Ladies, please.

Let us not forget that you are the very best of friends and --"

"My memory is perfect!" argued Gabrielle. "Ask her if she remembers leaving me at the crossroads? Ask her if she remembers me begging her to come back with me so I wouldn’t have to face my family and Perdicus’ family alone?!" Tread softly now, child. Think. Step back and let me in...this is not the route I would have you pursue... She leaned over the table, fingers splayed on its rough surface and leveled her gaze at Xena. "You’re a coward." Three calculated words which had a visible effect on Xena. She reacted as if struck, her eyes narrowing, her jaw stiffening. The steely gaze that made enemies tremble locked onto the determined countenance of the bard.

Elkton couldn’t help but notice that Gabrielle seemed delighted by the response. "That’s enough, child," he said, taking hold of her arm. "Sit down before the damage becomes irreparable."

Meddling old fool. Gabrielle shook loose Elkton’s grasp. "Stay out of this!" she threatened evenly before turning back towards Xena. "What’s wrong, Xena? Afraid you can’t win a battle of words?" Xena wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and pushed away from the table. But she offered no verbal defense. Gabrielle sneered. "You wear the sword and the chakram and you are almighty in battle, that I have to give you. But when it comes to words, you are a clumsy warrior wielding unfamiliar weapons." Oh, I am impressed. Like a boulder rolling down a steep hill, Gabrielle’s verbal assault had momentum, an advantage she was determined to press. "Come on, Warrior Princess..." she spat, her voice heavy with contempt. "Hit me." She offered her chin. "Show me I’m not wrong about you!"

Elkton renewed his efforts to bring civility to the proceedings. "Xena, if you will not stop this, I --"

Xena stilled him with an upraised hand and when she spoke, her voice was even and controlled. "Elkton, this is between Gabrielle and me."

"Oh, you are so right, Xena," retorted Gabrielle. Child, I tire...I need you to stop this...now. Manus voice, faint and fading, but laced with desperation, too. Step back, find your still point as I taught you. There was a weighty pause before Gabrielle spoke again. "It’s been a long time coming."

Xena stood up and advanced on the bard in purposeful strides. It gave her no satisfaction at all to see her friend recoil at her approach. "You know, Gabrielle, I’ve overlooked a few things because I figured you’d been through a lot, but I’ve never claimed to have bottomless patience with things that annoy me."

"Why do you sound so defensive, Xena?"

"Why are you baiting me?" retorted the warrior.

"Only a guilty conscience would see the truth as provocation."

"Excuse me!" said Elkton, placing his considerable bulk between the two women. "Can I say something?"

Xena merely blinked passively at Elkton. Gabrielle exhaled impatiently and barked, "What!?"

Elkton turned to Gabrielle with a smile on his lips. "You have a smudge, my dear..." He said, running his thumb across her brow. "...just there..." Before his thumb had completed its passage, Gabrielle buckled at the knees and collapsed into his waiting arms.

"Gabrielle!" Xena raced to her friend’s side and helped Elkton deposit her on a bench against the wall. Alarmed, Xena rolled back Gabrielle’s eyelids with the ball of her thumb, felt the racing pulse at her throat. "Elkton, what did you do to her?"

"My dear, Xena, it’s what I am attempting to un-do." He drew a three-legged stool up beside the bench and adopted a soft, sibilant whisper. "Gabrielle, do you hear me?"

She nodded slow comprehension. Master! Are you there?

"Sit up, child," instructed Elkton and Gabrielle obeyed without delay, rising to a seated position, her eyes closed. "It’s just as I thought," he marveled. "You’ve been here before. Xena, pass me that candle."

Xena retrieved a short votive from the table; she felt the spatter of hot melted wax on the webbing between thumb and forefinger and only then did she realize she was trembling. She was visibly unsettled, even as she crouched at Gabrielle’s knees and regarded her companion, quietly awed. "I’m impressed, Elkton. I’ve never seen anyone go under so quickly before. Is she asleep?"

Elkton relieved Xena of the candle. "In a manner of speaking...in some ways, she’s more fully aware that she has ever been."

"I thought you said --"

"Yes, to sleep is dangerous, unless one has carte’ blanche to come and go from the dreamscape at will."

Xena pursed her lips into a quirky smile and said, "Hesperos appears well rested."

Elkton grinned. "I was wondering if you’d notice." He cleared his throat and adopted a professional, almost clinical tone of voice. "Gabrielle, open your eyes." The bard complied immediately. Elkton passed the flame before her, mere inches from her face; her blue eyes stared vacant, aimless and unaware of the flame. "Raise your right hand." Gabrielle’s small hand rose and hovered at chest height. Elkton smiled in satisfaction as the bard was his to command. Trading the candle for a knife from the table, he took her outstretched hand in his and as Xena watched, he lightly ran the razor sharp blade the length of Gabrielle’s palm. Even as the blood rose in tiny crimson beads, the girl showed no reaction. "That’s very good, my dear," he crooned, pleased to see the cut was already clotting. "You can put your hand down now." Elkton looked sideways at Xena, his tone and manner, apologetic. "I had to make absolutely certain," he said, setting the knife on the bench.

"Certain of what?"

"Certain of the extent of the conditioning. It’s an impressive accomplishment," said Elkton thoughtfully, his voice simultaneously edged with wonder and disgust. "He’s taken what was a form of healing and turned it into something pervasive and self-serving."

"You mean Manus."

"He’s the logical suspect, yes. He excelled at the art of directed dreaming. Now, let’s see what sort of information we can glean from your friend here." Coolly professional, he inquired of the bard, "Gabrielle, what is your reward?"

"Peace," she answered in a monotone.

On the heels of her reply, he spoke from the well-worn script in his head. "Peace in what form?"

"Peace in the Master’s arms."

"The Master," echoed Xena, seizing on the word. "Ask her if it’s Manus."

"Gabrielle...whom do you serve?"

The bard’s countenance, formerly blank, gave just the slightest signs of cracking. ‘Master!’ her mind screamed. ‘Help me!’ "Help me..." came a minimal, plaintive response.

Xena squeezed Gabrielle’s knee in relief. "Gabrielle, I want to help you," she said passionately. "Tell me how." Gabrielle regained her composure and again fixed her eyes blankly forward.

Elkton sighed. "Manus’ hold is strong."

"Gabrielle’s in there somewhere, Elkton. Ask again."

Elkton reacted with weary patience. "Xena, please..." he admonished. "This job is best left to a professional." In deference to her wounded expression, he said, "I simply mean that you’re too close to it...a successful bridge requires a cool head, and a trained voice. And if we’re to get anything at all useful from her, a certain procedure must be followed. I know I might be taking my life in my hands here but, please...shut up."

Xena’s chiseled features fretted themselves into a look of vague surprise. She moved to a corner of the table and with an airy wave of her hand, relegated herself to the position of bystander.

Though the warrior gave no outward sign, Elkton knew that his request had galled her, but there was no time for lesser casualties. Slowly, using his skills as a facilitator, he pushed deeper into Gabrielle’s subconscious. "Gabrielle, do you hear me?" She nodded. "I'm your friend, and you can trust me. Xena's here, too." He took note of the tremble of her hands, how they alternately clenched and unclenched in her lap, but whether it arose from anger or fear, he didn’t know. "We want to help you, but you must answer my questions as they’re put to you, do you understand?" Again, a compliant nod. "And so, if I ask you again, whom do you serve, you will speak the name." Nod. "Say it for me, Gabrielle. Yes, or no."

Manus’ voice, not much more than a faint whisper, still found the strength to berate his enemy. Why must you hear it from her lips, old man? I know you suspect. Do you think the admission will free her? You are simple indeed if that’s your game. "Y--yes..." murmured the bard, her face slick with perspiration from the utterance. "Yes."

"Now, child," said Elkton, leaning forward in his seat. "Whom do you serve?"

"Lias buried the others where we found them," Silvus was saying as he removed the sleeping child’s small shoes. "Why do you ask?"

"I’m simply concerned that they received a proper burial," replied Hesperos, casually

tossing a blanket over Silvus’ charge. "Lias was good to --" Hesperos! Hesperos paused in mid-sentence as his Master’s voice rumbled in his head. "Lias was good to do such unpleasant work. If there’s nothing else I can do for you, Silvus, I should return to my duties in the kitchen."

Absorbed in his work, Silvus gave no sign that he detected anything other but cordial indifference from the older man. "Yes, of course. Thank you for your help."

Hesperos turned on his heel and began a slow retreat through the massive chamber, picking his way through and over the occupied palettes. My plan is in jeopardy, Hesperos. Go to the kitchens at once! Manus’ associate knew better than to question his master’s orders and though the voice inside him implied urgency, he strolled casually from the room so as not to draw undue attention to himself.

"I...I serve..." Gabrielle’s breath was coming in short gasps, her face drenched in perspiration. She was clearly agitated. "I serve...oh, help...." she cried, and winced, as if in pain.

"Elkton, stop this!"

"We’re almost to it, Xena," replied the mystic breathlessly. He hovered at the edge of his seat, eyes fixed on the animated face before him. "Whom do you serve, child? Tell me." Gabrielle’s fists clenched in her lap, balling up the material of her skirt -- her lips moved, twisted, framed words, but no sound came forth to satisfy Elkton’s plea. His own hands reached out, clamping over the bard’s, forcing a stillness. "Peace is the reward. Peace in the Master’s arms. But who is the Master, Gabrielle?"

"Elkton..." warned Xena evenly. She stood at the end of the table, fingers splayed on its surface, knuckles white.

"No!" Gabrielle cried out, wresting a hand free of Elkton’s grip. In one swift movement, it found the discarded knife on the bench and brought the blade down in an arc, slashing Elkton across the forearm before Xena could react.

Xena was there in a fast heartbeat, planting herself between the injured mystic and her friend while trying to make sense of what she had just witnessed. Over her shoulder, she saw the mystic clutching his arm in obvious pain as blood seeped between his fingers. "Elkton..."

"I’m alright, Xena."

Xena watched Gabrielle’s knife hand carefully. "Gabrielle, it’s me...Xena," she said, attempting the use the same calm, professional voice that had been so disturbingly successful for Elkton. She looked into the face of her friend, disappointed in the air of vagueness in the eyes that met hers. "Gabrielle," she crooned, palms outward, at chest height, non-threatening, or so she hoped. "I want you to listen to me. Put the knife down."

Galvanized by the bard’s actions, Manus summoned the last of his strength. Spoiled! If you’ve spoiled my plans, little one, peace, for you, will be a fond childhood memory.

Inside a scrambled head, Gabrielle’s will warred with Manus’. Master! No!

You are pathetic! Manus spat, every word, every syllable a calculated attempt to regain control of the girl’s conscious actions. All my hard work and you’ve all but given them the key to my door.

Xena watched her companion with keen interest; the girl stood stock still, struck and minted on that spot, knife hand unfaltering, lips moving soundlessly, something in her eyes turned inward. "Elkton," Xena drawled, looking peripherally at the mystic. "What’s happening?"

"You’re a warrior, Xena..." said Elkton, without taking his eyes from the bard. "You mean to say you don’t recognize a battlefield when you see one?"

Clear your mind, child, let me in...wholly...without reserve. My desires, when fulfilled, will grant you what I have promised from the start...peace. That’s it, crooned Manus. You’re doing so well. You see how much better it is when you don’t fight me? Your youthful exuberance cost me the element of surprise, but perhaps we can turn it to our advantage. What are you feeling now, little one?

Rest now, little one. Gabrielle blinked, awakening. "Xena?" She felt an unfamiliar weight in her left hand and looked down to find a knife, bloodstained. As she took in the scene -- Elkton bleeding, Xena in a unfamiliar defensive posture, and a bloody knife in her own hand -- Gabrielle drew a logical, but unlikely conclusion. The knife clattered to the stone floor and she staggered back, unsettled by the weight of her actions. "Oh, gods...Elkton..." she stammered. "I’m so sorry..." She retreated from the scene until her back met the stone walls of the kitchen, and then her knees buckled, and her body melted into the cool stone and slid slowly to the floor.

To the untrained, it might appear that Hesperos had chosen an awkward moment to make his entrance; he stood at the foot of the stone steps, hands on either side of the stairwell, mouth appropriately agape. Even as Xena moved to Gabrielle’s side, she suspected it was all an act.

"Hesperos," she barked. "Help Elkton. He’s been injured."

"What happened?" Hesperos asked, moving to the table where he swiped up a dubious looking piece of cloth and applied it to the slash on Elkton’s arm. "That’s a nasty looking wound," said the cook with an undisguised hint of admiration.

"Gabrielle..." Xena crouched beside the bard and looked into a pair of troubled, wounded eyes she recognized so well. "Talk to me, Gabrielle...what happened?" But Gabrielle could only sob and shake her head. Exasperated, Xena grabbed the girl roughly by one arm and hauled her to her feet. "Elkton, is there someplace she can rest?"

"Of course, Xena," replied the mystic, holding his injured arm to his chest. "You can take her to my quarters. Hesperos will show you the way."

"No. I should tend to your wound." Xena’s eyes fixed on Hesperos. "Hesperos, you take her and stay with her until I get there. But don’t let her sleep, do you understand?"

Hesperos nodded, surprised as anyone that Xena should entrust him with the welfare of her companion. "If that’s what you want, of course." He moved forward and took the dazed girl by the arm. "Come with me, child," he said with uncharacteristic tenderness.

Elkton followed the cook and the bard as far as the bottom of the stairwell and then turned to address Xena, astonishment plain on his face. "I can’t believe you did that after what we both suspect."

Xena took Elkton by the elbow and led him back towards the table. "That’s exactly why I did it, Elkton." She guided him to the bench and proceeded to unwrap the bloodied bandage. "If Hesperos suspected we suspected him, then Manus would know."