About to pass through into the arena of the Pankration, the official held out a hand to refuse entry. "No women allowed," he announced. He shook his head discouragingly at her instinctive reach for her sword, as a group of Hoplites armed with long spears tramped forward, halting their spear butts on the ground with a thud. They waited patiently in a disciplined line, not making any aggressive moves but implying that they could do so if required. The infamous red cloaks and battle-scarred armour and shields told their own story.

"Apparently someone took a dislike to an official in the Charioteers tent," the official remarked casually. "So the Spartans offered their services in return for a guaranteed entry into the Hoplite running event."

"Could have been anyone in that tent," Xena agreed, judging mentally how quickly her chakram could be whipped out and airborne before the Spartans would be on her.

"Anyone," the official echoed, as the Spartans formed a phalanx, shields raised and spears poised in front of the entrance.

She retreated from the Spartans testily, loathe to accept defeat so easily. Looking around for another point of entry, they seemed to be guarded likewise. "Ironic a warrior race like the Spartans could be responsible for a bathing device such as the Laconica," she mused idly.

Scratching around for an alternate plan, she watched crowds of people enter with no interference, then an idea struck her...

A noble woman vanished within a tented doorway and found herself tied up, gagged, and dumped in a cupboard. A servant carrying expensive veils and gowns, got mugged and was suddenly cargoless. A Hestian priestess joined the entourage for the Pankration, who was stopped by the official at the entrance.

"Priestess, you're sure in the correct place?" he pressed her carefully.

"Oh yes," she answered eagerly. "I'm sure any young ladies I see here will be most anxious to join the Priestesshood of Hestia."

"Er, yes..." the official said doubtfully, knowing full well that of the two types of women allowed at the Olympics, one would be inadmissable on 'technical' grounds, and the other would already belong to another Goddess' priestesshood.

"I know being chaste isn't for everybody, but it's not as bad as it sounds," the priestess gushed. "After all, once you know yourself, what else is there?"

"Mm, what indeed?" he replied non-committally.

"Praise Hestia!" she sang out as she entered the building.

On entering the building, it proved to be a small stage in the centre with a rising grassy slope on all sides. There was a man-mountain being paraded around under the watchful eye of a judge, and playing up to the crowd at every opportunity who responded with a mixture of cheers and boos. Xena made her way to the front row, noting with interest the last contestant who tried to take on Goliath's little brother - bloody, battered and in one piece. More or less.

"Honoured athletes, nobles, citizens, ladies of virtue -" the judge called out to the assembled crowd in a well-worn introduction.

The speech was interrupted by a series of catcalls and raspberries, induced by the cough after the word 'virtue', from a section of women on the northern slope who were none too pleased at the reference to their profession.

"...of virtue," the judge continued, ignoring the interruption. "Ladies of the Goddess Artemis and Hestia who honour us with their presence -"

Assorted feminine sections of the crowd smiled and nodded courteously in answer. Xena was slower than the rest to do so, forgetting who she was dressed as temporarily, but no-one seemed to notice.

"And to the High Priestess of Demeter who we thank for a good harvest this year and for blessing us with fine weather for the Games," he ended. He couldn't think why the High Priestess of Demeter would want to come or why she was the only Priestess who had a dais to herself during the Games, but if he wanted to ensure a decent crop on his farm making good with the Goddess of the Harvest was never a bad notion.

There was a movement from the dais in question. He wasn't sure whether it was to indicate she'd heard him, flattery works keep going, or can't hear you at the back. He made a bow to her and hoped for the best. "I present to you, Ogrus, champion of Kato Pankration in Asia Minor and in practice for the Olympics!"

The mighty Ogrus - at six foot tall, almost half as wide and muscles on muscles - growled on cue, drawing more cheers, jeers and general applause.

"Should any willing volunteer from the crowd defeat Ogrus in Ano Pankration, the winner will receive the contents of Ogrus' purse from his competition wins for this year, a seat with this year's judges at the Games. Plus!! This finely crafted bronze bust of the legendary pankration champion Hercules, by the master forgeress Atalanta!"

A porter ran forth from the perimeter with said bust, showing it to the entire crowd.

"They do say," the announcer said conspiratorially, "That if you are devout enough to the God of the Forge, this Hercules bust may come alive.... Would that not be a very handy thing to have around the house ladies?"

This prize drew several "Ooohs" and "Aaahs" from the crowd - especially from the women in the crowd on the last prize mentioned - amid an excited hubbub of conversation, bar the Spartans who withdrew in disgust. Either you fought properly to the death - simultaneous in some cases - or not at all. Ano Pankration was only for boys and certainly not worthy of any Spartan. Sparta hadn't become masters of most of Greece by just fighting until the opponent was thrown to the ground.

A runner raced from the perimeter and whispered something to the judge, whose eyes lit up in anticipation and held up a hand to the crowd, exciting them even more as to what the announcement might provide. "It seems we have a volunteer willing to chance their arm against Ogrus - of unknown quantity, yet much daring and bravery..."

The judge and announcer let the pause and tension build up, a finger hanging over the crowd and in particular the olive oil-soaked veterans of other Games. The crowd baited their breath eagerly as they waited and watched the judge's gaze for the possible opponent.

And were looking in totally the wrong direction as the judge swivelled round to point at the actual volunteer. "A lady of mystery, supported by the Goddess Hestia - Miss X!!!"

Xena's eyes flashed in anger at the ambush, half-expecting it though she was, but she had no chance to protest as a group of 'helpers' led her to the stage. Encouraged by the judge, she got cheered enthusiastically by the crowd after a graceful leap in the air and a tumble or two to land nimbly on her feet.

"Good luck, young Priestess," an old man croaked to her as she passed him going through the crowd. There was a spark in his brown eyes that told of a different sentiment, but when she looked round to see after him, he'd vanished within the crowd.

"Go for it, Satin-breeches!" a hauntingly familiar voice called out from the 'ladies of virtue' area. "Try being on your back for a change - Don't knock it 'til you've tried it!!!"

The cackles and laughter at Xena's expense was abruptly halted by the Priestesses of Artemis taking exception to the maligning of chastity and reminding Meg very forcefully that Amazons happen to be high on the Goddess' fanclub and quite keen on defending her honour.

"Praise Hestia! She has friends everywhere," Xena shot back, getting more comfortable with her guise as a Hestian.

There was another raspberry aimed at her back, to which she turned and aimed a beatific smile in reply. The judge's cough brought her back to the fight of the moment, and introducing them formally; "I want a good hard fight, no eye-gouging or biting except in moderation and anything goes until one of you is on the floor," he said in a low voice that only the two combatants could hear.

"Goodness," Xena said wonderingly, looking up at Ogrus. "I hope we can be friends afterwards."

Ogrus didn't say much in reply, just bared his teeth and gave a growl that set Xena's hair on end. The judge stepped in between them, sending both to a corner, giving Xena a brief moment of time to work out a plan of strategy and tactics.

They crouched and glared at each other - well, Ogrus glared and crouched - whilst Xena stood on her toes and waved at him cheerily. "Ogrus!" she hailed him. "Have you ever thought about joining the Temple of Hestia?"

His reckless charge found him groping at thin air, whilst she was suddenly behind him. "I know you're excited about the idea," she scolded him, "but there's no need to rush in. Hestia is a most patient Goddess."

Ogrus wasn't speaking at all, but squeaking in a very high voice after Xena had taken part of him in a firm grasp. The men in the crowd had turned a whiter shade of pale at this new wrestling hold.

"It seems you're not a virgin," Xena tutted in disappointment, avoiding a flurry of elbows aimed at her head.

"But I have a solution to that," she added, making the males of the audience who were not only white but now wincing in anticipation at her last comment.

A leg flailed out, knocking them both off balance and Xena lost her hold due to the slippery olive oil on Ogrus. A meaty fist sent her flying to his corner, which he followed up, though not so rashly as first. The Hestian garb restricted her agility slightly, but she stayed on her feet nevertheless despite the unsteady landing. As he closed she drop-kicked him twice to the stomach, which should have hurt but didn't appear to slow him down much.

He hit back with a few heavy punches that got the crowd roaring for more, which masked an aside only Xena and he could hear. "You're to go to the Kladeos River."

"Where?" Xena said in between a flurry of fists to his kidneys.

"The," - he said, taking a swipe at her ankles - "Kladeos" – swinging the same foot in a swift upward movement at her head – "river."

"Who "she answered, sidestepping his foot and grabbing his head – "sent" - pummeling his head repeatedly – "you?"

"A woman," he snarled, a mule-like leg kicking her off his back and several yards more besides.

"Praise Hestia," she breathed, standing tall in the arena, if a little groggily.

The crowd cheered her endurance as her opponent came at her again, watching her tumble in midair and landing on his shoulders. "Who?" she demanded to know, rabbitpunching as she piggyback-rode him.

"Don't know," he answered, biting her hard where she was tenderest, making the women in the crowd grimace.

"Kladeos River," he affirmed, lifting and throwing her as though she were as light as a straw doll. She crumpled on the floor as she landed, a throw which felt like she'd just been fired from a Catapult designed to stop an elephant.

Xena came to a minute or two later; She'd had many good ideas in her time, but meeting a professional Pankration wrestler in the arena wasn't one of them. Opening her eyes to slits whilst keeping up the illusion of her eyes shut - a practice that had kept her alive for many years – she could see the audience was vanishing and there was no sign of her erstwhile opponent or anyone else for that matter. Making a great show of it, she awoke with a start and rose to her feet as though she'd just had a nap. "Hestia restores strength to the weary and the worthy," she declared loudly to the dispersing crowd, some of whom cheered in response.

The temporary disguise as a Hestian suited her purpose for the time being, though obviously her adversary knew who she was. But at least she had the wrestler to follow up as a lead – though where he'd gone now was another matter. Shouldn't be hard to miss though, he had the physique of Hercules.

"Have you seen that fine warrior of Pankration?" she quizzed one at random.

The man she stopped looked her up and down perceptively; "Seems one woman was too much for him to handle. He left almost as soon as he'd defeated you."

That confirms it, Xena thought to herself. "My thanks, citizen."

Briskly walking up a path swollen with people going to one of the many events, she strained her eyes to see her quarry. She quickly found him within a crowd, though looking slightly different from when they'd fought. "Priestess!" one hailed her, recognising her from the bout. "Is this Ogrus?"

"Hail, citizen," Xena greeted him. "Yes - and - no. He wasn't wearing a bust of Hercules on the back of his head at the time." She looked down at her ex-opponent. Who was now ex-everything.

"An evil wind that blows no good," murmured someone in the crowd and the others nodded.

Xena was less convinced. For one thing, it took a fair old wind to blow over a statue, even a small bust. Especially if it moved the bust but not the column it was previously resting on. Obviously her protagonist wasn't intending her to talk to anyone who might give them away. It was a small risk – but whoever it was didn't take risks.

With nothing else to learn here, she melted into the crowd and headed off towards her rendezvous at the Kladeos River. It looked peaceful enough, with only poplar, pines and olive trees marking the hills either side of the river. There was a closer line of trees to the bank, which kept the river in shade. Further downstream, there was a solitary boat tied up.

An invitation – or a trap?

Probably both, given her trials up to now. Her sharp eyesight peeled over the landscape near and far, searching for any sign of an ambush. Not satisfied, she moved swiftly over the land, her ears and eyes on heightened alert for anything other than the tipple of the river. Using the boat as a springboard, she somersaulted to the other side and watched the lie of the land. Her reconnaissance having revealed nothing, she fell back on her instincts which told her there was nothing here. Yet.

She wasn't taking any chances however and drew her sword in readiness. Crossing back over the river again in a nimble leap, she cut the rope in a swift movement. The boat caught the current of the river and began to drift downstream until she stopped it. Climbing in, she placed both her weapons by her feet, ready to react in an instant. Picking up the paddle, she edged the boat warily to follow the current. Apart from the noise from the Games, the only sounds were the paddle hitting the water and the birds and insects along the river.

As she came under an arbour, a pillar of flame declared an entrance. This was swiftly followed by a fireball flashing past Xena's back into the arbour . As it flamed up in doublequick time, Xena was not slow to act, dropping the paddle and seizing both her weapons in an instant, whirling round to face her antagonist – though the boat and Hestian garb hardly helped her balance much.

"Too slow Xena," the woman commented, resting a hand behind her head as she leant casually upon the arbour. Her free leg was half-curled upon the other, her other arm hanging casually and holding another fireball within the palm of her hand.

"Callisto," Xena said dully, her fingers itching to let loose her chakram.

"Ah, ah!" Callisto admonished her, unpeeling from the tree and wagging a disapproving finger. "I wouldn't.."

She accompanied the last with a quizzical raise of an eyebrow, daring her opponent to attack her. Flipping herself backwards from the boat onto the bank, Xena silently cursed the day she'd given up Ambrosia to her greatest enemy. "So is this just a social call, or did you come by for some reason?"

"Did you like my little games, hmm?" the blonde answered, resting her head askance upon her shoulder. "So much more fun when I have someone to play with!"

"Unlike Iolaus?" Xena said testily.

"Oh well," the other answered with an unsympathetic shrug. "Every game has a loser."

"So what's the point Callisto? Play games until you get bored? Find someone else when I fail?"

The Goddess' face broke into a broad grin and swept her head back in a peal of laughter. "You are the game Xena! You are a born survivor, I am a natural killer. Who will win out?"

"Tricky to defeat a Goddess," Xena observed.

"Hmm – maybe I'll offer you a sporting chance?" Callisto mused, stroking a finger over her bottom lip thoughtfully. "Or maybe not! Won't it be exciting?"

"Can't wait," came the rejoinder. "So why'd you want to blow up Olympus anyway?"

The blonde hummed tunelessly for a moment, gazing skyward and tossing the query around the walls of her mind like a ball. "Don't like crowds."

"So how about if I don't want to play any more games?" Xena said, sheathing her weapons and folding her arms in a mood of grim determination.

"Oh, but you're playing one now," Callisto answered sadly, shaking her head like a teacher disappointed in a previously bright student.

"What? Twenty questions?" the Warrior Princess sneered.

"No," Callisto explained. "Sink – or Swim!"

With that, she let loose a fireball at the boat which had stopped by Xena's side of the bank. Instinctively, Xena leapt for safety as the boat exploded into a fiery vessel, the impact upon the boat knocking her off balance slightly. Scrambling for a handhold as she tumbled down, she caught the arbour and swung herself back onto the bank in a smooth single movement. A mocking applause met her as she landed which Xena countered with a fierce glare.

"Round to you Xena," Callisto conceded regretfully, as the charred remainder of the boat sank. "But seek your future well – else not have one at all!!!"

With that curious remark, the Goddess vanished and left Xena wondering what was going on. So now what? Carry on the wild goose chase or leave the Olympians to their fate? It wasn't as though anyone would miss them.

She sighed aloud. Callisto didn't make empty threats – if she was in charge of her deadly cargo, she'd let it fly and damn the consequences. And therein lay the problem. Even if Callisto's rocket hit Olympus, there would still be enough Gods left to wreak a bloody revenge. And be assured, every mortal would suffer.

She recalled a memory of Black powder being used on one of her journeys to Ch'in and sucked her teeth in appreciation of a large amount concentrated at or in one place. She stood up, firm in mind now. No matter the games forced upon her, she must stop her enemy from her goal. The problem of defeating a Goddess was still prevalent in her mind, but she had a few ideas on that. Even the idea of blowing the whole lot up with Callisto inside just to see how indestructible a Goddess was appealed, though probably difficult to bring off.

Good to know she was still being given clues where to go, though it was odds-on favourite to be another trap or ambush. The parting shot of "seeking her future" was paralysingly obvious; a reference to the number of false oracles, Seers and future tellers that came by the Games to 'help' athletes every 4 years – all for a small fee, of course.

There was nothing else here worth looking at, so she headed back into the Games area to seek her quarry. She soon found it. Neatly and strategically placed between the Hippodrome and the Gymnasium, a long line of tents had been put up with signs and banners advertising the wonders of their seeing into the future. There were other stalls nearby too of horsetraders, foodstuffs, clothes and whatnot, but either by design or by accident, they were separate from the row of Seers.

Xena pursed her lips testily as she observed the large number of potential men and women clamouring for custom. Fed up of being bounced around from trap to trap, she decided to force the issue. Marching forcefully over to the area where her quarry were gathered, she eyed up the tents and their inhabitants and let fly with her chakram.

A brief moment later, a man with big hair had his perm reduced to a short, back and sides, all the tents had collapsed and suddenly there weren't any more customers. "If I could have your attention," Xena hailed the mass of angry fortune tellers who scrambled from their fallen abodes.

The chakram twirling innocently around her hand stilled their ire instantly as they recognised the Warrior Princess and her favourite ranged weapon. They watched warily as she returned the chakram to its hook and unsheathed her broadsword, casually resting it upon the ground. "Who here can see the future?" she asked the milling crowd.

There was a pause, then about half stepped forward.

"Now let's try that again," she commented, whipping her sword up in a rapid action to the nearest one's throat and subsequently pricking to form a tiny pool of blood.

"How careless of me," she tutted. "I might have cut your ear off or anything."

The man tried to back away, but the point of the sword followed him.

"Now who can really see the future?" Xena continued, addressing the crowd as a whole again. "No pressure."

The majority of the oracles and fortune tellers decided they could see the future and it wasn't looking good. There was a flurry of footsteps and the majority of tents now had a 'closed' sign on the flap. Xena looked up in mock surprise as the number had diminished to one. A rather scraggy old man in rags with long grey hair that covered his face, he didn't like he had much of a future at all – never mind tell it for real.

"You're it?" Xena quizzed him, looking him over doubtfully.

"Sooth! Sooth! Sooth!" he answered enigmatically.

"Don't tell me," she sighed impatiently. "You're a Soothsayer."

"Got it in one," he said evenly. "Now is my pavillion still standing or have you wrecked it?"

"Which one is it?"

"The brown one with the extinguished fire by it."

Xena cast her eyes along the line of tents and pavillions that her chakram had ripped through. "There's two at the far end," she noted. "One's still there, the other one isn't."

"That'll be mine then," he sniffed.

"Hmm, maybe you can see the future," she remarked, giving him a sharp glance.

He ignored it, pulling his big mop of hair away from his eyes and shuffled off towards his dwelling, She stared after him for a moment, unsure what to make of the oddball and whether he could really tell the future. Seeing as there was no-one else offering themselves up as an alternative, she shrugged and followed him.

As glorious pavillions go, this wasn't quite in the league of the Palmyrans or the Parthians; It looked as though it was put up as an afterthought, the moth-eaten cloth hanging loosely from the prop pole and a few pegs tying it down to the ground. He ignored the tent and sat on a rock by a small fire.

"Not exactly the Palace of Rome, is it?" she observed sardonically.

"Nope," he answered shortly and brought out a small bundle of sticks from within his rags, chucking them on the dwindling fire. He pointed to a squat barrel the other side of the fire. "Park yourself down there by the fire."

"And then..?" Xena queried, not seeing any indication of where she might glean a hint of the future. She did however, sit down, though more out of curiosity to see what he would do.

"Aren't you going to make some mystic cries to the Gods, or sacrifice something?" she asked, half in disappointment. Considering the routine she had to go through to get to the land of the Dead, it was a bit of a let down to be told to just watch the fire to learn the future.

"Nope. Would you like me to?"

"Does it help?"

"Doesn't make the slightest difference," he commented dryly, as they both sat there watching the fire slowly grow.

"Watch the fire closely," he advised. As the flames licked upwards, a few blurred images appeared. He blew the hair out of his eyes and squinted closely at the fire, as did Xena. The images slowly became clearer, taking a familiar form that she recognised instantly. It was Callisto, watching contentedly over a large quantity of barrels snugly enclosed within a narrow chamber, though there was no clue as to where this was.

"Someone you know, hmm?" he said, noting her furrowed brow. She said nothing but her look of intense concentration spoke volumes.

The image changed, to an external scene of a broad hill in sunshine. On the crest two figures could be seen. One was dressed in a bilious green skirt and bra making a defensive move with a large staff, whilst a man a few yards away had an object pointed at her within a raised hand. There was another figure in the background holding a thin staff watching from a distance, but didn't seem to be participating in the combat. Xena changed position to see what was going on better, but the view didn't change. She looked anxiously on at the girl who seemed almost cowed by the man. He had his back to Xena, but she didn't recognize him, other than his clothes seemed vaguely familiar.

"What's she doing at Mount Cyllene, hmm?" the old man mused. "Doesn't look like a follower."

"A follower?"

"Hermes – that's his statue in the background, dontcherknow," he wheezed, pointing to the man with the staff.

As Xena took news of this landmark in, the view of the mountain and its inhabitants faded away. After a pause, another took its place. It was a village like any other, save it appeared to be deserted. The scene playing upon the flickering flames, focused upon a solitary woman who was enjoying a bath of steaming water.

"Is this your vision of the future or mine?" she asked suspiciously.

"Who can say?" he replied innocently, but there was a definite twinkle within his aged eyes.

Callisto – for she it was – hummed aloud as she stretched her leg out, making the water ripple. "What next? Ooh I know - a riddle! It's such fun playing with Xena, she always has to face me, can never leave alone.

"But then, I'm a Goddess and she's not," she said flatly, her face taking on a cruel look. "We'll play a while and I shall destroy her. And then the Gods."

Xena said nothing, but her hands instinctively clenched in answer to the challenge issued.

"All roads lead to Rome," Callisto began, tapping her upper lip thoughtfully. "Wrong. Because –"

Whatever else she was about to add as she was about to exit the bath, ended abruptly as the fire died into a clump of charred embers. "That's it," the soothsayer sniffed. "Always ends at the most interesting part."

"So get it back," Xena prompted him, giving him a steady glare. She had a feeling he wasn't referring to the unfinished riddle, but didn't intend to press him on it.

He retrieved a small block from within his rags and placed it on the still smouldering embers. A vile smell arose as the fire crackled into life again, causing the warrioress to cover her mouth and nose. As the blaze grew, another picture came into being;

A grim harvest of scarred farmland and toasted corpses covered the landscape, as smoke spiralled upwards from torched villages nearby. The sole building remaining was a Temple intact, which a long line of hunched people were gathered in a queue as far as the eye could see. Those people still alive scrambled from their hiding places threw themselves to the floor in a penitent gesture, as a woman emerged from the Temple. It was Callisto, but not as Xena knew her. This was Callisto the UberGoddess, almost glowing with sheer power. If Ambrosia could be majorly overdosed and then shrugged off as a mere side effect, this was it.

"Those villages made the wrong choice," she addressed the crowd with a stifled yawn. She flicked a small dagger into the air and fireballed it – something flashed on the blade briefly, then it became ash and vanished within the winds. "Make sure you choose wisely. If the Gods couldn't stop me after I destroyed Olympus, what chance do you Mortals have? Just remember ... I know where you live. And die."

The reluctant worshippers lurched forwards into the temple, laden with offerings of assorted quality, all fight and spirit gone from their faces, watched on with grim satisfaction by the blonde deity. Xena's face fell in a horror-stricken expression. She'd read it wrong completely. She'd thought that the Olympians would stop Callisto after she'd taken out Olympus and wreak a terrible revenge on all Mortals, but Callisto had just taken over completely. The Gods were bad enough - petty and cruel - but they weren't in favour of total subjugation either. There was after all, a pecking order within Olympus, but here there was a pecking order of one only.

"Is this the future?" she asked bleakly, her hand half-covering her mouth.

"Maybe - I dunno," the old man opined. "I'm just a soothsayer."

"How do I know what you've showed me is real or the truth?" she questioned him.

"Up to you," he answered simply. "Either you act on it or you don't."

"So if I ripped you apart, I wouldn't find a Goddess waiting for me?" she asked suspiciously.

He shrugged. "Never pick a fight unless you know the odds are loaded in your favour."

She considered this line of argument carefully. Either he was Callisto and could kill her in an instant or he wasn't, in which case he wasn't a threat. "Seems like I'm a guest at a private party, where all the gifts turned out to be nasty surprises. Don't suppose you know anything about that either."

There was hint of a question posed in the last statement, which he picked up on. "Nope – but then, I knew you weren't going to offer any payment for when you came by."

"Ha! That's where you're wrong!" she cried triumphantly, lifting out her purse and emptying an amount into a bowl.

"All contributions gratefully received," he remarked cheerfully, the coins vanishing in double quick time somewhere within his rags. "But here's a piece of advice for free – alliances make the most curious bedfellows..."

And with that parting shot he ambled off whistling to himself, leaving Xena wondering what was really going on and a decent handful of coins less well off. She mused over the possibilities of the Soothsayer's visions as she hurried off to the Hippodrome. What was Gabrielle doing on Mount Cyllene? What was the meaning of the Soothsayer's final remark? Where was all the black powder stored?

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