Nebula led the way unerringly, or at least with a confidence that implied the same, through a twisty maze of increasingly darker and smellier streets, until they came to a small building producing a very large noise. "Quiet tonight," said Nebula, pushing aside the tattered cloth that served for a doorway and going inside.

The interior was dim and smoky from badly-maintained lamps and burning herbs. Morrigan started to say something, but whatever it was disappeared in a coughing fit. "What a great place," Nebula said happily.

"I'm sure I would agree if I could see it." Gabrielle rubbed at her eyes.

"It grows on you after a while. Come on." She swaggered up to the bar. "Hey, Marcus, long time no see."

"Shove off, Nebula," said the bartender and turned away.

"Gimme a drink and give my friends drinks, too."

"Screw you."

"This is Marcus," Nebula said. "Old buddy of mine. See that wooden leg of his? I got that for him."

"Yeah, after you cut off my real one," the bartender said.

"Good ole Marcus. What're you guys having?"

"They ain't having crap from me."

"Charming guy," Gabrielle said to Morrigan in an undertone.

"Have y'noticed we're the only women in here?"

"Have you noticed we're the only people in here that have taken baths in the past year?"

"This," Nebula announced, gathering four mugs together, "is a great drink. It's called an Egyptian Sling. Marcus makes the best Egyptian Slings in the entire Aegean, don't you, Marcus?"

"I hope you choke on 'em and die."

Nebula distributed the mugs and climbed onto a barstool, Gabrielle and Morrigan to one side of her, Joxer to the other. Gabrielle noticed this and scowled into her drink, then looked more closely at it and momentarily forgot about everything else. Morrigan was looking into her mug with equally appalled fascination. "Is it that I am imagining things," she asked hesitantly, "or is it moving?"

"I'm not sure. Why don't you try it?"

"I'm not going t'try it. You try it."

"I'm not going to try it. Let's get Joxer. He'll try anything."

"Considering how close he's sticking t'Nebula, that's pretty obvious."

"Excuse me," Nebula said with an unpromising smile, "did I hear my name? You're not drinking, blondie. Drink up."

Gabrielle looked at Joxer, who was regarding his own mug rather dubiously. "Is it any good?" she asked him.

"I think it's moving."

"Drink it. Don't be a wuss."

"I can't drink it, it's not dead yet."

Gabrielle started to say something, then stopped and turned back to Morrigan. "What do you mean, 'sticking to Nebula'?"

"Well, all I'm saying, dear, is..."

"Xena told us to make sure nothing happens to Nebula, we're just doing our job. Which is why I came along in the first place, remember?"

"Oh," Morrigan said innocently, "I thought you came along to keep an eye on studmuffin."

"Look." Gabrielle slammed her mug on the counter. "I told you before that has nothing to do with it."

"O'course not."

"Just because he was practically sitting in her lap back at the inn..."

"If you say so, dear."

"Well," Nebula said, "we're a little touchy on the subject, aren't we? Hey, studmuffin." She elbowed Joxer, who was still unable to tear his eyes away from his drink. "Wake up, we're talking about you."

"Well, hello," said a familiar voice, and Menander walked up to them. Timarchus peered out from behind him, saying nothing. "Fancy meeting you here. Your Highness, if I may be so bold as to offer to pay for your refreshment there..."

"I got it free," Nebula said. "Marcus gave it to me 'cause we're old buddies, didn't you, Marcus?"

"Bite me," said Marcus.

"I insist," said Menander. He elbowed his way in between Gabrielle and Nebula, dropping a handful of coins on the counter. "So, Your Highness, do you have any plans for tonight? Because if not..."

"Excuse me." Gabrielle straightened up. "We're having a conversation here." Menander ignored her, and Gabrielle said a little more sharply, "A private conversation."

"Ah, let 'im alone as long as he's buying." Nebula drained her tankard in one pull and motioned to Marcus. "Another one over here, and make it strong this time, okay?"

"Sod off," said Marcus.

"I believe you have been supplanted," said Menander to Gabrielle in a somewhat less pleasant tone than he had been using with Nebula.

"I believe you're poking in where you're not wanted," Gabrielle said.

"No," said Morrigan, still looking at her drink, "it is definitely moving... Hush, lass, leave him be. Maybe Nebula will take an interest and leave y'r friend alone."

"It's NOT LIKE THAT."

"Will you be quiet, you silly bitch," Menander growled. Nebula was paying no attention to anything except her next Egyptian Sling. Joxer, on the other hand, was now sitting up straight and watching Menander closely.

"Look," said Gabrielle. She got off the barstool, which unfortunately put her at a definite height disadvantage, and walked up to Menander. "Nobody--" she poked him in the chest for emphasis-- "asked you," poke, "over here," poke, "so show a little respect," finishing with a very hard poke.

Menander looked as though he would now get down as well, but Nebula tapped him on the shoulder. "Buy me another one," she commanded and he turned away from Gabrielle, fishing out another few dinars and tossing them over to Marcus. Joxer quietly walked over to stand behind Menander, his back stiff with what on any other man might have been seen as aggression.

Marcus shoved another tankard at Nebula, which distracted her long enough for Menander to turn and say to Gabrielle in a very unpleasant tone, "Listen, blondie, go peddle it down at the other end of the bar, okay? I've got more important things to do than argue with some two-obol tramp about..."

What exactly he thought he was arguing about would remain unclear, because before he could finish the sentence Joxer pulled him off the barstool, flung him into a nearby table, and dove right after him.

"Joxer," said Gabrielle, very annoyed, "stop that."

"Oh, dear," said Morrigan. The men sitting at the table had taken great offense at finding Menander in their drinks and a full-fledged brawl was starting.

"Stupid macho posturing," Gabrielle said. "I can't take him anywhere."

Someone overturned the table and sent it crashing into a neighboring one, which encouraged its residents to join in the fight as well. Nebula took a drink.

"Oh, don't be so hard on the lad, it was kind of sweet."

"Yeah, but now I have to go dig him out of there."

"I'll help you." Morrigan picked up a barstool and flipped it into the center of the melee, taking out a large bald man who had shown poor sportsmanship in drawing his sword. "I will be saying this for Nebula," Morrigan said cheerfully, "she does know how t'have a good time." The subject of the sentence remained at the bar, finishing her drink, while Gabrielle and Morrigan joined the fray.

Within minutes four spoilsport guardsmen kicked their way into the tavern, cursing and laying about with the butt-ends of their spears, knocking combatants to one side and the other as they advanced. The room simmered down. Gabrielle sheathed her sais, and Morrigan put down the man she had been intending to throw over the bar. Joxer crawled undamaged from under a knot of inert bodies, shaking himself like a wet dog. Menander and Timarchus had disappeared somewhere in the wreckage. Nebula sat on her barstool, delicately sipping another Egyptian Sling. "Who the hell started this?" bellowed one of the guardsmen.

Marcus pointed to Nebula. "She did."

The guardsmen picked up the bemused Queen of Sumeria, and her drink, and dragged them out of the ruins of the tavern.

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