They came within sight of their destination less than half an hour later. Large walls of reddish mud brick hid most of the structures within Eion from view, though the ships at anchor in the harbor were clearly visible. There were half a dozen, of two basic types: sleek, rectangular oared galleys lying low in the water and wide, deep-hulled triple-masted vessels. The city was bisected by the Styrmon River, which flowed beneath a hole in the northern wall before emptying out into the Aegean Sea. Up ahead on the left side of the road was a sizeable necropolis.
A few miles to the north, set on a plateau at the foot of Mt. Pangaion and nestled in a westward curve of the river, stood the city of Amphipolis.
Amphipolis was his mother's home town.
Solan was suddenly tempted to argue for a change in their plans. Why not make a brief detour to Amphipolis, just long enough to make sure his mother wasn't there? It was not yet noon, and they could make it to the city and back in only a couple of hours. If Xena wasn't present, fine; if she was . . . then what would happen?
Could he prevail in combat against her? "Archon" had counseled him to wait three years before facing his mother and, much as he loathed his alternate self, it was probably wise advice. Despite all he had gained she still held a substantial edge over him in age and experience. And if he fought her and lost, what would become of Justin? His friend would be left utterly alone in an alien world. He would never have the chance to return the teen home, as he hoped one day to do.
For that matter, what might happen to the Ranger during the fight? Would Justin be willing to allow him to duel his mother alone? Or would his friend insist on trying to help him? Xena could easily injure or even kill Justin in the course of their battle! Was he ready to risk his only friend's life for his vengeance?
No.
Besides, was he even wholly certain he still wanted to slay his mother? Admittedly when he'd first learned of her true identity and her betrayal he had wanted nothing more than to kill her. He doubted he could ever fully forgive her for abandoning him or for seeking to thwart his destiny.
Yet she had risked her own life to rescue him after Dagnine's men captured him. She had saved him, and the entire Centaur village along with him! She fought for good now and, whatever she had done to him, she was still his mother.
"Don't look so grim," Justin urged him, breaking his train of thought. "Like I said, it'll help if you smile."
Flashing a weak grin at his friend, Solan made his decision. Even if by chance Xena was in Amphipolis, he would not go there. He simply wasn't prepared to confront his mother at this point. There were too many difficulties involved, too many questions he needed to answer first. One day he would indeed seek her out-but not today.
With that resolved he noticed his companion studying the necropolis they were passing. It covered a wide span of earth and held a variety of grave markers and monuments: great mounds of earth, tombs of carved stone, marble stelai, and sculpted statues. Many were painted and he could see shades of red, black, blue and green.
"What are those?" Justin asked, pointing to the base of a nearby statue of a man and his dog where a clay plate held two small cakes and a miniature pitcher of wine.
"Those are offerings to the dead," Solan explained. "It's how we show our remembrance of those who have gone before us."
"In my world we used flowers," Justin said quietly. The teenager began to almost jog toward the open gate in the walls, allowing Solan the luxury of taking his full stride for a change.
There was no guard at the gates and they passed into the city without being challenged. They strolled down the avenue, the buildings to either side of them constructed of the same reddish mud bricks as the walls. Courtyards stood before the threshold of each home, a number of which contained small children at play. Seeing three sisters make what appeared to be mud pies and two brothers race each other while shouting at the top of their lungs, Solan had no difficulty bringing a smile to his face, albeit a wistful one. These kids were only a few years younger than him, but watching them somehow made him feel as if he were decades older. His experiences with Archon and the other children had changed him even more than he had realized.
They continued further into the city and Solan marveled at its size; it dwarfed the Centaur village in both scope and grandeur. They passed over a solid stone bridge spanning the river and at last the street opened up into the agora, the central shopping area. Throughout the square merchants had erected a multitude of booths offering their wares and a substantial crowd circulated among the reed stands. The hubbub of conversation filled the air as several dozen people conversed, bargained and bought.
Justin had come to an uncertain halt at the edge of the agora, his eyes playing over the bustling and chaotic scene.
"Let's see if they're selling anything we can use," Solan suggested. Yes, their first priority should be booking passage on a ship, but this was all new to him and he wanted to get a closer look at the various goods on display.
They could certainly afford to buy a few things if they wished; selling Kaleipus' hut and possessions had brought them six hundred drachmas, two thirds of which were in a large pouch at the bottom of Solan's backpack, while the remaining third were secreted in a pouch in Justin's backpack.
"Okay," Justin agreed. "But stay with me! I don't want us to get separated."
Given the mass of humanity before them, that was a reasonable concern. Solan was careful to remain close to his friend as they began looking over the contents of the marketplace.
The first few booths sold ornaments of gold and silver, earrings, bracelets and necklaces. Though beautiful, they were of scant interest to the boys and the two quickly moved on.
Succeeding booths sold several kinds of cloth and a variety of pigments. Shoes were on offer, along with belts, leggings, vests and shirts. Next in their browsing came perfumes made by mixing oil with roses, lavender or lilies. Olive oil was sold by the gallon in a few booths after that. Wine was selling extremely well.
It was interesting, but an unexpected mental strain was taking its toll on the twelve year-old. Given the number of people present, it was virtually impossible to move without brushing up against others, especially when you were wearing a large backpack. His training, muscle memory and battle instincts all combined to instill in him a reflexive defensive reaction to any physical contact. Constantly stifling that impulse was wearyingly hard work.
The enticing aroma of freshly baked bread indicated that they had come to the section of the agora given over to the sale of foodstuffs. The smell awoke Solan's appetite and set his stomach to rumbling. A glance back at Justin showed that the teenager was also hungry. This was where they would make their purchases.
On offer were dates, figs, almonds, olives, bread, grapes, porridge, cheese, soups, and even honey cakes! He needed to buy a few of those, he decided, already salivating in anticipation. He had only tasted honey cakes a handful of times in the past, yet with the exception of the ambrosia-like Three Musketeers bars they were the sweetest things he'd ever eaten. He stepped up to the booth and asked for six. As he'd expected they were expensive, though it was only after he had paid the price and seen the sly smile on the merchant's black-bearded face that he realized he should have haggled.
Cursing himself for a fool he transferred the cakes to his backpack, while Justin picked up a bunch of grapes. They still had enough bread for now, but a few dates would be nice. He let a couple of the other customers go before him and when his turn came he insisted on and got a price in accord with what they had paid. In the meantime Justin had bought a hunk of cheese and was making his way down to another booth, whose occupant was shouting something over the noise of the crowd. Moving closer Solan was able to make out the words.
"Fresh fish for sale! Fish caught this morning! Fresh fish for sale!"
Justin seemed to be carefully studying the fish hanging from the top of the stall and those in the bins and at the same time talking animatedly with the proprietor. Finally he pointed out two large fish and they began to speak of the price. After they had come to an agreement Justin paid and took the fish with a wide smile.
"We are travelers. Where can we prepare the fish?" he asked the trader.
"There is a tavern on the southern edge of the agora. You can cook there, for a small price," the man answered.
Justin started to turn away before suddenly turning back to the merchant. "Is there-" he began and stopped, looking frustrated. "Please ask him if there's a booth selling salt," he whispered to Solan.
Apparently Justin hadn't learned the word for salt yet. Solan put the question to the fish-seller and was given directions a stall selling spices far down the row. Barely had he finished speaking when Justin was in motion, though the press of people kept him from making much progress.
At the spices booth Justin pointed out what he wanted and bought a tiny bag of salt. After that they made it to the tavern, medium-sized red-brick structure. Outside tables and chairs were arranged in a circular fashion around several large braziers with glowing coals. Another brief conversation and the exchange of an obol, a sixth of a drachma, and Justin was filleting the fish with his sword and laying the chunks on one of the braziers. Solan sat down at a nearby table, lowering his backpack to the ground alongside Justin's and idly watching his friend cook what would surely be the main course of their meal. Unwilling to wait he had some bread and a date. Justin used his sword to flip the fillets, and when they had finished cooking he placed them in a terracotta bowl taken from a stack next to the brazier and served them at the table with a flourish.
They were succulent and Solan consumed his share readily enough. Justin, though, after a generous sprinkling of salt, absolutely devoured the fish strips. It was the most he'd seen his friend enjoy a meal. When the older boy was done he sat back with a sigh.
"That was sea bass," he informed Solan. "I've had it before. I caught one the day Storm Blaster came to get me to help the Astro Rangers. After I got back home Dad and I went fishing. He rented a boat at the marina and we were out on the ocean together until dark, just us and the wind and the waves. We had a great time."
The auburn-haired teenager fell silent, staring off into space. Thinking that a change of subject might be for the best Solan reached down into his backpack and brought out two honey cakes. Setting one in front of him he offered the other to Justin.
"These are honey cakes. I've only had them a few times, but I always loved the taste. Try one!" he encouraged Justin.
Justin took a small bite and his face brightened. He ate a larger piece while Solan tried his own. It proved to be as delicious as he remembered. He had to force himself not to have any more; he wanted his supply to last for more than a day, after all.
"That was good," Justin admitted.
"Down to the harbor to find a ship now?" the Warrior Prince asked expectantly. He was tired of having to restrain himself among the crowd in the agora.
"Not yet. First there's something I need to pick up at the marketplace."
Shouldering his backpack again he strode back into the mass of humanity. Grabbing up his own pack the Grecian boy quickly followed.
"What are you looking for?" he asked as Justin passed by booth after booth.
"That!" Justin answered, indicating a booth stocked with tools of various types, nets, and fishing poles. Justin took a long time trying out different poles before finally picking one out and purchasing it.
"That won't fit in your backpack," Solan pointed out.
"I know," Justin agreed. "Let's get out to where we have some space and I'll show you how I'll carry it."
When they had once more broken free of the crowd Justin shrugged off his backpack and untied the bedroll from the bottom. Unrolling it he placed the pole at one end and re-rolled the bedding, with the pole now inside. Then he retied the bedroll to the backpack and swung it back onto his shoulders.
"See, it's perfect!" Justin proclaimed enthusiastically. Then his cheer faded. "Solan, did you want a fishing pole too? Sorry, I didn't think about that."
"No, I don't need one," the Warrior Prince reassured his friend. In truth he'd always found fishing to be unbearably boring. You just sat around waiting for a fish to bite your hook. Where in Tartarus was the action or excitement in that? Since Justin seemed to treasure it so, though, he wouldn't say a word against the "sport".
"Now the harbor?" he questioned, a shade impatiently.
"Sure," Justin answered him.
Without the masses to block their way they soon arrived at the docks. There one of the deep-hulled, triple-masted ships was taking on a load of lumber. Four men were carrying a few pieces at a time from a cart on the dock, up the gangplank and into the open hold of the ship. At their approach one of the men broke off and headed their way.
That was the one Solan approached. He was tall at almost six feet, tanned and dark-haired, though balding. His beard had streaks of gray in it, but his green eyes were clear and his posture straight.
Solan hailed him and asked, "Are you the captain of this ship?"
"I am Lysander, captain of this vessel. Who are you?" he queried, holding his right arm out for the traditional grip.
Solan grasped his forearm, being careful not to squeeze too hard. The return hold would have been enough to make his old self wince, but his now much more muscled limb absorbed the pressure without difficulty. Lysander's eyes were visibly sizing him up and taking his measure.
"My name is Solan and this is my companion, Justin," he replied, gesturing back at the teenager. "We are traveling to Athens and were hoping to book passage on a ship. When are you sailing and where are you headed?"
"We leave at dawn tomorrow for Eretria, on the isle of Euboea. You won't find a ship leaving here for Athens; all of our ships are bearing supplies to our mother city, to aid in its rebuilding."
"Your mother city?" he asked. "Why does it need to be rebuilt?"
"Eion is a colony of Eretria," Lysander explained, his tone suggesting everyone should know this. "It needs to be rebuilt because nearly three moons ago soldiers of the Persian Empire attacked and razed it!"
It was yet another surprise in a day which had already had too many of them.
"How?" he managed to rasp out.
"They came in a fleet of ships, too many for our own galleys to stop. After they sacked Eretria they took sail again and landed at the bay of Marathon. From there they planned to descend on Athens and deliver to it the same fate. The Athenians and Spartans together met them in battle on the plain, and they were overcome. The Persian army marched to the walls of Athens, but the Athenians resisted fiercely, along with the militias of Thessaly and Tripolis, towns which had lain in the path of the Persian advance. Spartan reinforcements caught the Persian dogs between hammer and anvil, leaving thousands of them dead and forcing the remainder of that filth back to their ships."
The Centaur village had always been fairly isolated, with the only nearby settlement being the Amazon community. Nonetheless Solan had never imagined that news of this magnitude would somehow fail to reach them. A Persian invasion of Greece! A Greek city put to the torch! And the whole time he had been lazing away far to the north, blissfully unaware of the threat. He had done nothing to oppose the conquerors or defend his people.
"You truly didn't know?" Lysander asked skeptically.
"If I had known of it in time, I would have been there to fight!" the Warrior Prince swore.
"Are you and your friend mercenaries?"
"Yes," Justin interrupted, cutting off Solan's denial. "But Greeks first."
Lysander regarded them thoughtfully. "There are a number of Athenian ships also carrying goods to Eretria. If you sail with me, you should be able to easily find passage from Eretria to Athens."
"At what price?" Justin queried.
"Twelve drachmas for each of you. You bring your own food and drink and find your own lodgings when we drop anchor in the evening. Be on the ship by dawn each day or be left behind."
"Six drachmas for each of us," Justin bargained.
"Don't waste my time," Lysander scoffed.
"You're not using up food and water on us; this is all profit for you."
"You won't sail all the way to Eretria on my ship for a miserable six drachmas apiece," Lysander insisted.
"Twenty-four is too much; do we look wealthy?"
A brief pause ensured. "Eleven each."
"Seven."
"Nine, and we'll finish loading your cargo for you and unload it at Eretria," Solan offered in a no-nonsense voice.
"Show me," Lysander challenged, though there was no mockery in his tone.
In reply Solan lowered his backpack to the deck. Striding past the other three men, who had stopped to watch the exchange, he hefted five boards onto one shoulder and carried up the gangplank, depositing them in the bowels of the ship. Justin followed, with less enthusiasm and fewer boards.
Channeling his frustrated anger into manual labor Solan swiftly finished transferring the contents of the cart to the ship's hold. As always it felt good to show off his strength, and he could tell he'd impressed Lysander.
"Nine," the captain agreed as Solan and Justin retrieved their packs. "If you will unload the full six carts worth of wood packed into my hold."
"Agreed," Solan said tersely. "We'll see you tomorrow." He turned to leave, Justin right behind him.
"That'll be tons of fun when we get to Eretria," the former Ranger grumbled sarcastically as the docks fell away behind them.
Whirling around Solan demanded, "Why did you tell him we were mercenaries?"
Blinking Justin responded, "Because I didn't think we wanted to go into detail on what we're actually doing with him. He expected us to be mercenaries and that's something he can understand. Did you really want to explain everything to him about how we got here and what our plans are?"
It was a reasonable point, but somehow it didn't dampen the Grecian boy's anger.
"How can people learn not to fear me if they think I'm just a mercenary? They have to know who I am, that I'm trying to protect them!"
"They will," Justin assured him. "When we find a situation where you can help, we'll tell them that. I just didn't think this was the person or the time. Why are you getting so upset about this?"
Solan turned partially away, leaving Justin to look at his profile.
"Greece was invaded and I wasn't there. I didn't even know about it until now!" he raged.
"You couldn't stop a whole army!" Justin protested.
Surprised Solan turned back to look his friend directly in the face.
"I know that! But I could have fought alongside the Athenians. I could have done my part to drive the Persians back. You told me about how you and the other Rangers stood between Divatox and the conquest of Earth. Now the Persian Empire invaded Greece and I did nothing!"
"Listen to me! We had teleporters and communicators and an enemy dumb enough to only attack one small city over and over again. You don't have any of that. You didn't deliberately leave Athens to the Persians; you didn't know what was happening! That's one of the reasons we're going to Athens now, so we can find out where the trouble spots are. All this shows is that we made the right decision on what city-state to visit first."
Again the Prince of Warriors turned half away, speaking more quietly and from the heart. "I want to be there when things like this happen, Justin. I want to stop them."
"I know," the Turbo Ranger replied solemnly. "I want that too. We'll do the best we can, Solan; that's all I can say."
Heaving a last sigh of frustration, the twelve year-old unclenched his fists and glanced back down at his ally.
"I could use a swim in the river right now. Are you up for it?"
"Thanks, but there's something else I want to pick up first."
"What?"
"Bait," Justin said as he reached back to pat his encased fishing pole.