"Well, Boy?" Cyril said gruffly.

Joxer squinted at the cage held in his left hand. The smallest candle was almost out, but the name was visible on the candleholder: "Mother Woundwort."

"Hold on, Boy," the centaur commanded and galloped up, up and away.

"To Infinity and beyond!" Joxer sang out, accompanying it with what was meant to be a triumphant gesture but ended up being a brief wave in the air before grabbing hold of Cyril's shoulders with his free right hand.

"Not quite," his mount replied. "Sarmatia".

Joxer peered over the beast's flanks to watch the view in between the clouds, as the urban sprawls of towns and cities became free rolling steppes with gentle hills. "Are we there yet?"

"Patience, Boy," Cyril muttered, slowing slightly to a canter and then suddenly dropped out of the blue yonder, holding a hand to his forehead seeking their destination. "She's down there," he declared, gesturing with his right thumb towards a small hill in the distance, its base dotted with scrub and trees.

"Huh? I can't see anyone?" Joxer said in surprise, his eyes failing to pick up anybody about - let alone anyone who might be on his shortlist.

"Look again," Cyril said, as he clipped his hooves above a stream and came to a halt on the rise of the hill.

Joxer took this as a pointer that this was his stop and dismounted, careful not to drop his cage of candles. He looked around the hill, and sighed with relief on sight of a small hovel hidden within a gully.

Warily scrambling down the side of the hill - there were definite advantages to floating in midair - the apprentice clambered to the bottom of the hill and peered at the first candle again. Wonder who she is? he thought to himself, and then he remembered how fat the candle was, the holder brimming with melted wax. She's probably had a good innings, Joxer shrugged as he pulled his hand crossbow free from his belt and loaded it with a bolt from the pouch.

The house was what estate agents call "compact and potential for development" - i.e. cramped and holes in the roof and walls. It shone a dim light from the window onto a well-trodden path leading off into the distance, indicating she was a local celebrity of sorts.

He sighted up the crossbow - the slight size and weight surprising him - when something else surprised him, only more so. A speeding object came hurtling out of a tree overlooking the house at him, which made him flap his arms in fright at it. There was a 'click'. Followed by a startled 'hoot'. And a 'clump' on the ground.

"Ooops." Joxer looked forlornly at the stricken owl, then glared at the hair-trigger on the hand crossbow. A flurry of feathers fluttered in the gentle breeze, slowly covering the fallen fowl like a shroud. "Um, er, um....?"

Celesta's instructions hadn't prepared him for this eventuality and panicking was right at the top of his agenda, along with running and hiding. As he debated which to do first, there was a brief extra glow in his cage as a flame licked his hand holding the cage then snuffed out.

Had he not been holding the cage by its handle, it might have been dropped. As it was, it swung dangerously in the air from side to side as he grabbed his burnt hand, dropping the crossbow in the meantime. He placed the cage hurriedly on the ground, smothering his sore hand under his right armpit, giving the cage a soft kick in retribution.

The cage rattled, but its cargo was otherwise unmoved, the four candles attached to the bottom of the cage by some unknown force. Four candles?

He did a double take, peering at a guest candle that hadn't been there before. The candleholder was brimming with melted wax, implying a life that was looking forward to feasts of rodents and nips of ale was suddenly looking forward to green fields in Elysia and not a lot else. Despite the overflow of wax, the name "Beaky" was visible on the candleholder - a wisp of smoke flew up briefly before the strand of wick flopped over into the melted wax.

Joxer looked nervously at the hut, but no-one emerged to see what was going on outside. He glanced at Mother Woundwort's candle again and instinctively removed it from the cage, before placing the cage strategically in front of the unfortunate Beaky. On seeing the candle almost gone, he hurried up to the building and was about to push it open, when a sign caught his eye: "Muther Woundwort's House - Please Knock - Death and courtesy go together."

Joxer doubted anything of the sort but in any case the door creaked open as he made to knock. "Door's open," a voice answered from within.

The fact that he was expected surprised him for a moment, until he remembered the Goddess saying something about only Mages and Shaman could see Death. And as such, knew when their time was up. Pushing the door open, a wizened figure was revealed, hunched up on a stool by a cauldron. Stooped and hair silvery-white, she was stirring a bubbling concoction with a big spoon.

"Witches brew?" Joxer greeted her jovially.

"Tea, actually. Salad?"

"UH, NO THANKS," he said without thinking. Barely a few seconds later, his mind was going 'Nyahhhh!' on realising he was not only doing Celesta's job, he was taking on her voice too. His mental faculties paused from climbing the walls as a thought occurred that this could be useful.

"Where's Death to, then?" she asked airily, sealing a jar marked "salad leaves" and indicating he should sit down on the other stool. "You know, girl with the shroud and the candle, nice hair, doesn't say much," she continued, spooning the liquid into a mug and passing it to him.

"I'M HER APPRENTICE," Joxer said, puffing his chest out and trying to balance the cup of tea, the candle and the hand crossbow in his hands and on his lap.

Her eyebrows arched in surprise. "Are you? You don't look much like Death to me."

"I SO AM," the affronted apprentice said firmly. "I'VE SEEN HER HOUSE AND EVERYTHING!"

"Hmm, first I've heard of the Gods taking on Mortals as helpers," the old woman commented, scratching her chin with a long fingernail thoughtfully. "Still, there was that thing with Psyche and Cupid. But you do have the voice right, I'll give you that."

"HOW DO YOU KNOW I'M A MORTAL?" Joxer wanted to know, sipping the tea.

"I'm a Mage - it's my job to know these things, " she shrugged. "You seen Beaky about?"

"MMM - GOOD TEA, " Joxer exclaimed in surprise on tasting the tea and neatly evading her last question.

"Nomen es namen, as the Romans say," she cackled. "A little woundwort in everything just before you go!"

"THAT'S PRUNES, ISN'T IT?" he queried, putting the tea to one side.

He glanced again at the candle and she nodded. "I'm sure he'll be around somewhere." She felt her pulse briefly. "Stopped."

Joxer saw the Mage slump over her stool and feverishly reloaded the hand crossbow, then fired.

"Ran that a bit close, didn't you?" her shade remarked. "Now where's that stupid bird gone to?"

Joxer sighed with relief, and sheathed the crossbow within his belt. He gripped the smouldering wick between his thumb and forefinger as the flame died for the last time, then rubbed his fingers together hurriedly to get rid of the burning sensation.

He wasn't sure what to do next - she didn't seem in any hurry to go anywhere and he didn't like to go just like that. The restless spirit watched him curiously. "Say, you remind me of a man," she piped up.

"I DO? WHAT MAN?" Joxer wanted to know.

"The man with the power," the Mage said mysteriously, making an expansive motion with her hands.

"POWER? WHAT POWER?"

"The power of 'voodoo', " she whispered in hushed tones.

"HOODOO?"

"You do."

"I DO?"

"Remind me of a man."

"WHAT MAN- OH, DON'T START THAT AGAIN!" Joxer said testily, in answer to the mage's laughter.

A flapping of wings announced the arrival of Beaky, and Mother Woundwort's smile froze when she saw the state of her familiar. "You git! What have you done to Beaky?"

"UM, WELL, I WAS ADJUSTING MY WEAPON AND IT SORT OF WENT OFF," he explained, placating her with a cheesy grin.

"Too-wit-to-woo!" Beaky hooted accusingly, and the Mage's expression turned frosty.

Joxer gave the expired candle an experimental tap, and an anxious look at the ex-bird and ex-Mage. "WELL, IS THAT THE TIME? GOTTA GO!"

He backed away, stopping as the two ghosts finally faded away. Joxer sighed with relief and popped back to where he'd left the cage, placing the candle of the Mage within.

Glancing guiltily at the feathered familiar laid low behind the cage, he picked it up gingerly and entered the residence again. He placed it at the feet of the late owner, giving it a pat. "IT IS AN EX-OWL, IT HAS CEASED TO BE," he said solemnly.

He thought he heard a contemptuous snort, but it appeared to be the coke crackling in the smouldering embers of the fireplace instead. Hurrying out to the cage, the name of the next to be collected was now visible on the candleholder: 'Sister Sousta'

"Where to, boy?" Cyril greeted him briefly at the hill's top.

"SISTER SOUSTA," Joxer answered, mounting up. He looked idly at the two remaining candles, as the centaur leapt skywards - the name wasn't visible on the last yet, but both had about the same amount of time left. "WHAT'S THE DESTINATION CYRIL?"

"Lycia."

"IS IT FAR FROM HERE?"

"No."

Cyril wasn't the chatty sort, Joxer decided. He wasn't even the slightest bit fazed by him doing the 'voice' - though he supposed any amount of journeys with Celesta would have gotten Cyril used to that commanding tone.

The hills became steeper as they headed south, bitter winds blowing through the peaks of the Bastarni mountain range. Thrace loomed large briefly, then passed behind them as the Aegean Sea kissed the rocky coastlines of Macedonia and Asia below. Islands were scattered as far as the eye could see, fishing ships and light cargo boats fought a lonely furrow in the wake of Poseidon's white horses. The roar of the waves interspersed with cries from seagulls above.

"Look for a Temple," Cyril's gruff voice advised, interrupting the commotion of nature.

Joxer's eyes picked out a small jetty in the distance with a Galley alongside, but there was no village or town in sight. "GOT IT," he said, after holding his right hand to the forehead to see better. "ABOUT HALF A MILE INLAND OF THE JETTY."

"Good spotting boy," Cyril commented, the hooves clipping on to the second destination.

"Well, here we all are again," Saha said briskly, marching swiftly into the daily gathering of the Amazon Council. "Together, that's the key. We know each other. Looking at each of you, I can say - "

She paused. "Who are you?"

The Amazon smiled at her in response. "I'm the Mistress of Horse, Grand Vizier."

"You're not," Saha said firmly. "Catheri is. What has happened to Catheri?"

"She's sick," Gabrielle said smoothly, appearing from nowhere. "Still, you'll have a stable relationship now."

There were a few titters at this minor humourism - such as it was - which ceased immediately at a glare from Saha. Gabrielle passed over a scroll with various names crossed out and new ones scribed in.

"And who might you be?" the Vizier questioned one of the titterers.

"Bolux, Grand Vizier," came the reply.

"No, I really want to know," her inquisitor pressed, fixing her with a stare that would cow a gorgon.

"My name is Bolux, Grand Vizier," the hapless Amazon answered. "I'm the new Mistress of Healing."

"Don't tell me," Saha said in a monosyllabic tone. "Kildarex is on the sick list too."

Bolux nodded.

"You've only ever done colds and cuts and bruises before."

Another nod.

"All in a quiet amazon village that barbarians and Romans always seem to miss."

"That's right, Grand Vizier," Bolux said brightly. "How'd you know?"

"It's my job to know," Saha commented. "Now, regarding the agendum -"

A cough from Gabrielle interrupted her again. "Not an agendum - an agenda," the Amazon High Princess corrected her. "The Council agreed on another item being included for discussion."

"Did they?" Saha murmured in a tone promising dire fortune on those responsible. "What topic did the Council wish to have debated so urgently they didn't feel the need to inform me first?"

"The investigation into Sycorax's death," the bard amazon explained.

"The investigation is ongoing."

"Only quite a lot of Amazons have expressed concern about the lack of news."

Saha wasn't flustered in the slightest by this challenge - she knew she was untouchable. "Name ten."

Gabrielle tapped the side of her nose knowingly. "Just concerned Amazons."

"Well, when you find out who they are, you let me know," the Grand Vizier said condescendingly. "If that's all you wanted to discuss....?"

The Amazon Council watched in fascination as the two combatants - verbal combatants assuredly, but no less intense - fought it out, the tension between them so thick it could be cut with a blade.

"Oh, that's fine," Gabrielle smiled. "After all, when I'm High Queen, I'll need to chair these meetings."

"High Princess Gabrielle, honoured though we are by your presence, only elected officials may sit in meetings, " Saha said carefully. "And if you'll be good enough to return to your tent, I'll ensure all the relevant information is sent to you."

"I'm not really here - you just carry on and I'll try to pick up some tips," her adversary replied calmly.

Saha was unsure how to respond to this reply. "Quite. Now, regarding our future role in the known World, it seems clear that alliances are a priority before we expand -"

"In which direction?" The new Mistress of the Horse wanted to know. "We need fresh pastureland for the horses."

"Hmm, you're a Scythian, aren't you?" Saha observed the other's tanned skin colour and accent.

"Yes, Grand Vizier," the Mistress of the Horse answered. "Talk to the Mistress of the Bow and Spear - we need to train Horse archers to back up our Cavalry and Foot." The two Mistresses nodded at each other in agreement.

"Secondly, a secure border is essential," Saha continued. "Expansion is not an option if we have weak borders."

The Mistress of Intelligence spoke up. "What about divide and rule? It worked for the Romans."

"Good idea," the redhead acknowledged. "Look into which tribes we can trade with long term and which ones we'll have to thin out in time."

A cough came from the corner. "So, diplomacy really means treachery when you're ready?" Gabrielle asked.

"Certainly," Saha said easily. "Do unto others as they would do unto you, but do it first. And more importantly, it's always better to be seen as a friend than an enemy. Because?"

"It's easier to stab them in the back," the Mistress of Forage and Stores chimed in.

A frown darkened Gabrielle's face, her fingers bridged under her bottom lip thoughtfully. "Saha, could you explain to me why we're expanding? The Amazon Nation is as healthy as it's ever been."

"High Princess Gabrielle, I'm glad you mentioned that," Saha replied, reaching for a large scroll from under her chair. A scroll was untied and rolled upon a long table, anchored by unlit heavy candles. A map was revealed, giving Amazon positions indicated according to the tribe in relation to the Roman Empire, vassals and neutral areas.

"As you're no doubt fully aware," she continued, meaning exactly the opposite, "the Romans are in another Civil War. Which means we can make a break for power."

"You're taking on the Romans??" Gabrielle gasped.

Her doubtful tones echoing around the meeting tent was cut short by a contemptuous snort from Saha. "Of course not. But we do have a chance to become a major player."

She pointed at the map, indicating all the tribal areas. "This is Dacia - here, here, here and here; And in Germanica to the north, here, and here; Gaul to the west, here; Asia Minor to the South, here, here and there; To the East, Sarmatia and Scythia - well, you can get lost in there."

"What's your point Saha?" Gabrielle pressed.

"The point is, we're insignificant - we have no voice, we're nomads, easy pickings for the Empire when they want slaves," Saha thundered, her fist slamming into the table, making it shake. "Tartarus, we're worse off than the Alans - at least they get hired as allies! And whatever happened to that treaty you sent to Rome?"

"I'm sure it's being looked into," the Amazon High Princess answered swiftly. "We are Amazons - whatever else we are, we are civilised and responsible for ourselves. Who here can say that of barbarians or Ares' latest army?"

A few nods and murmurs of response met this line of persuasive argument, which Saha acknowledged with her left hand held up. "Good points, all. We are independent, civilised, able to defend ourselves, yet for what?"

Having got their attention, she bowed deferentially to her blonde rival with just an air of mockery. "20 years from now, Gabrielle is the High Queen. But there's trouble out in the East and the South - messages from the outlying tribes have become less every year, the Gallic tribes are caught in the middle of a War between the Romans and the leader of the Gauls, you're in negotiations with the Dacians to cease raids against our tribes here - how will you save the Amazons?"

The tent fell silent as Saha's scenario was illustrated all too clearly, each thinking of their respective tribes. Gabrielle shook herself free from the doomsday scenario posed, her voice breaking the tense mood. "It would appear you can see into the future - do you have a link to Alti perhaps?"

The tension shifted slightly at the mention of the Shamaness bogeywoman, a few of the younger Amazon Council shivered in fear.

"A mythical figure of fairytales to scare children," Saha scoffed. "She may have been alive once, but who has seen her since the time of Cyane?"

"Xena and I have, many times," the Amazon High Princess said forcefully. "She's not dead, just waiting."

Already the Council was dividing - the younger and members from lesser tribes edging to Gabrielle, the elder and members from larger tribes supporting Saha. Nothing obvious, merely edging away slightly, exchanging looks and catching the eye. Subtle though this was, the Grand Vizier was quick to pick up on it - a job in her line meant nods, gestures and facial expressions spoke volumes.

"So how might you save the Amazons Gabrielle?" Saha repeated. "Alti is long and gone - this is now and the future. We must have a voice to speak for us when the Romans restore order, else we shall fade and die."

"This is mere fantasy - who can possibly say what the future may hold?" Gabrielle protested.

"Fantasy, hmm?" Saha mused. "Well, here is reality -" Reaching for her amazon staff, she gripped it firmly with her left hand, thudding on the ground to keep everyone's mind focused.

"The Amazons have three choices - the status quo, to expand or to die. Firstly," her staff tapped Gabrielle's stool, "stay as we are. Fight skirmishes, farm a little, forage, and stay in touch by scroll and messenger.

"Secondly," contacting her own stool, "expand and have a voice with those who matter. Be powerful enough to see off invasions of Amazon land, have secure borders, Amazon Council open government.

"Finally," the staff scraped soil on a patch of dead grass before the roots came loose, "to die. Whatever we decide must be unanimous. The most certain way for the Amazons to die is to split into factions and be at each other's throats."

A small smile flickered briefly upon her lips as a hardened debate opened, her orator skills still in fine fettle. She gestured to Gabrielle that a private word away from prying ears was required, who acknowledged and walked over. "Gabrielle, something has come to my attention that you as Gabrielle need to know."

Gabrielle thought quickly - this was clearly a coded message unrelated to the current debate. "Would this be something that you know but cannot tell me?"

"Quite so," Saha nodded. "Specifically, I am now not talking to you as Gabrielle High Amazon Princess, I am telling you this as Gabrielle the famous Bard."

"Tell me more," Gabrielle encouraged, adjusting her mind to deal with this potentially important information, which was about to be relayed to her. "Some news has come to you regarding...?"

"Our late lamented leader - and also your great aunt - was indeed murdered," Saha said in a low voice that none but they could hear.

"By?"

"A cavalry patrol found a centaur with a blowpipe and several bags of gold."

The lethal possibilities of this revelation hit Gabrielle instantly. There were still elements on both sides that would be more than happy to start up war again, and killing the Amazon High Queen was about as clear a definition of hostilities as you could get. Thinking steadily, more important questions arose, though the need for secrecy was obvious.

"Saha, why did the patrol not bring the centaur in for questioning and why tell me indirectly?"

"The questioning would be a little one-sided - it's been cut to ribbons," Saha answered, not hiding her dislike for the quadruped. "And of course, your position would be tainted if it emerged there was proof of foul play by the centaurs and you were not seen to be leading the Amazons in a revenge attack."

"As would yours - and the Amazon Council," the other noted.

"Quite. As Gabrielle the Bard you know, even if as Gabrielle the Amazon you do not. And as such, you can move around more discretely."

"Discretely?"

Saha surreptitiously passed a scrap of scroll to her companion, which was a short list of names and their tribe. "These are the amazons who found the beast - you may yet determine further information that I was unable to find out from the patrol leader. They should return to camp at evening cock-crow."

The Amazon Bard grasped the other's meaning; No-one from the Council knew about this officially - but - using her skills as a Bard, casual questions might bring further enlightenment without raising suspicion.

Stroking her chin thoughtfully, an intriguing question struck her. "By the way Saha - why aren't we attacking the centaurs now? You don't seem much of a fan of them and you were all in favour of expansion at the Council just now."

A wry smile crossed the face of the redhead. "Much as I would like to raze them to the ground, we don't have the arsenal for anything more than a few raids, and only a High Queen can order the Amazon Nation...."

"..Because neither the Grand Vizier or a High Princess have the power," Gabrielle finished. She tapped a sai against a bound collection of scrolls of the Amazon Book of Law lying nearby. "Everything by the book, Saha?"

"Naturally," Saha shrugged. "The laws make us or they break us."

She watched the High Princess leave, then caught the eye of one of the new girls. "Ah, Bolux, I wondered if I might have your expert opinion on a medical matter?"

The Mistress of the Apothecary eagerly scuttled over to her side, delighted that such an elevated personage as the Grand Vizier should consult her. She listened carefully as a few questions were posed to her...

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