It was lowering dusk when Ravenica's team came up the winding dirt road to Callisto's stronghold. A forbidding stone fortress, square and black against the deepening sky, there was nothing about it that spoke of comfort.
As they approached the fortress, Gabrielle pulled the brocaded curtains back from the walls of the palanquin, so that she could be as prepared as she could for whatever would come. Not that she had any illusions that any sort of preparation could make the slightest bit of difference in what would happen. She pulled the curtains open, but before they had come within a mile of the fortress, she desperately wanted to shut them again.
The land around the stronghold looked like what Callisto had left of Potedaia. The countryside had been ravaged by Callisto's armies. Unburied bodies, burned-out villages, scorched fields, cindered crops passed by on either side. The sky was sullen gray and overcast, perhaps with the pall of smoke that hung almost visibly in the air. A stench hung over the countryside, of decaying corpses, charred flesh and smoldering wood; even some of Ravenica's men were affected by it, Gabrielle saw. If ever there was a land of the dead, Gabrielle thought to herself, this would be it.
The roadway itself was lined with evidences of Callisto's cruelty. It was enough to make Gabrielle sick, yet she could not turn away as her litter bearers, looking neither to the right nor to the left, carried her past the frightful, horrible apparitions—heads decaying on poles, corpses of men and women who had been peeled like apples, their raw flesh blackening in the sun, flies buzzing merrily around them. And fire. The first time Gabrielle saw what looked like a pile of charred sticks lying at the base of a large tree or stone, her mind could not interpret what she was seeing. It was only after she had seen another, and another, and another, and seen the chains that, blackened and soot-stained, lay still among the ashes, that she realized what it was—a man or a woman had been burned to death there, chained in place. There were far more of these than of anything else. Gabrielle watched this, saw the bodies lying beside the road, and wondered why they had been killed—there were no signs painted on trees or pinned up over their heads, announcing their crimes, as had sometimes been done in Athens. Deep in her heart, she knew—they had been killed for sport.
The first stars were appearing in the night sky by the time Ravenica's party reached the outer fringes of the camp surrounding the stronghold. Sentries stopped them at the entrance to the camp. Ravenica spoke with them quietly. They might have been the men that Callisto inherited from Xena, yet they had a strange, bright light in their eyes that Gabrielle had not seen in any of Xena's men. They're mad, she thought to herself, and shivered in fear. Ravenica's men kept back as she conferred with them; they grinned unpleasantly as they stood aside to let the party through.
The procession continued, through the muddy, churned up lanes that wound between the tents. Looking around her, Gabrielle was silent in fear. If this had once been Xena's army, she couldn't see it. Xena's camp had been a rough place, certainly, where men cursed and fought with each other and where quarrels over games of chance could turn violent with startling rapidity—but at the same time, there had been an air of efficiency that had impressed itself even on someone as unversed in military matters as she was: the lanes through the camp had been clear and clean of rubbish and garbage; the tents had been well-mended and in good repair; equipment had been in good order and the men had exuded a sense of discipline; and when quarrels had turned violent, officers had stepped in easily to separate the offenders—often herding them apart with blows—before marching them off in restraints to face punishment.
Callisto's encampment, in contrast, looked like something out of an etching of Tartarus. The men Ravenica's procession passed were filthy, slovenly, many of them clearly drunk. The equipment Gabrielle saw on the soldiers was rusty and untended, sometimes even falling apart; the armor worn by the ill-disciplined patrol they passed on the way up the center lane was mismatched and looked sloppily assembled from old parts. Offal and filth lay piled high in the streets, everything from human waste to bloated animals to bones and body parts; Ravenica's crew picked their way gingerly around the worst of it. The tents were ragged, patched haphazardly and set up in no discernible pattern that Gabrielle could see, as opposed to the neat blocks of Xena's encampment. As they made their way past one area, Gabrielle could see a brawl raging between four or five men with no sign of any officers anywhere to restrain them. And all of the men they saw—all—had the same frightening light in their eyes that Gabrielle had seen with the sentries: a strange, too-bright gleam that looked like the light of madness. Callisto's men reeked of killing, of blood lust, of an almost inhuman savagery that chilled Gabrielle to the bone. Ravenica's crew seemed to sense it too: as they progressed deeper into the army encampment, the men and women grew quieter, grimmer; they closed up around the palanquin, their hands hovering close to their weapons, as if at any moment they expected an attack to fall upon them. Palaemon was close to the center, his usual bluster gone; he had been quiet and sulky all day, after Ravenica's reprimand of him yesterday, but now his sulkiness had drained out of him. Gabrielle tried to catch Caesar's eye; she wanted to see what he thought of the changes. Caesar was silent, as he lurched after Ravenica's horse, but his mouth was tight and his dark eyes glinted. He did not look pleased by what he saw.
The entrance to Callisto's fortress looked, to Gabrielle in her nervous state, like the mouth of a hungry beast; two massive, solid oak plank doors stood open, the wood dark against the darker stone walls to either side, and an iron grating was raised above the gap like teeth. The interior of the stronghold was lost in gloom. Two sentries slouched, one on either side of the door, holding pikes carelessly aslant; as Ravenica's party approached, one of them laboriously straightened himself, and held out his pike, barring the way. "State yer name and business," he said insolently. He was unshaven, dirty; his short blond hair was scruffy and matted.
Ravenica indicated the palanquin. "Ravenica, Queen of Bounty Hunters: we're here to collect Callisto's bounty for Gabrielle, the Bard of Potedaia, the Dark Conqueror's crippled bed-slave Caesar—" she indicated Caesar here, and Gabrielle saw stifled rage flash in his eyes "—and Xena's horse, Argo." Here Argo was led forward by one of her men; the palomino came docilely enough.
The sentry came to the edge of the palanquin and peered into Gabrielle's face, then looked down at the poster Ravenica handed him. He glanced at Caesar and Argo, and smirked. "Quite a haul. No wonder they call you Queen of Bounty Hunters…" His smirk died in the face of Ravenica's stony stare. "They're the ones. No doubt about it; they match the posters, all right."
"The bounty?" Ravenica asked.
"After Callisto sees 'em," he replied. "The Bright Warrior's second Theodorus'll pay ya." As the bearers lifted the poles, the sentry held out his pike again. "Only one of ya goes in. The rest of ya wait out here. There's a special reward for the one who presents them to Callisto the Fiery."
The bearers set the palanquin down on the ground. Ravenica herself came to the side of the litter and offered Gabrielle her hand, lifting her out as if she were a princess, for the last time. Gabrielle's legs were unsteady and threatened to fold up on her; the heavy brocaded robes she wore seemed to be stifling her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of Ravenica's men cutting the ropes that bound Caesar's wrists. Ravenica glanced at him, then looked back at Gabrielle, unsmiling. She offered a slight bow. "My job ends here," she said to Gabrielle. "This is as far as I take you."
Gabrielle's heart was pounding in her chest. As grim and emotionless as Ravenica had been, at least she was familiar and had never treated Gabrielle unkindly; the thought of facing the Bright Warrior without even so uncertain a protector as Ravenica at her side made her want to cower. Her mouth was dry; she had to swallow before she could speak. "Aren't—aren't you going in with us?" she faltered.
Ravenica shook her head, her face stone. She turned away from Gabrielle, with an air that suggested she had dismissed the bard completely from her thoughts. "Palaemon," she said. The word was a command.
The young, scarred man jerked in surprise, and turned toward her. "Ravenica?" he asked uncertainly.
"Take them in."
He stared at her for a long moment, as if trying to make sense of what she had said. Ravenica's men and women had all turned to watch, their faces as flat as that of their leader. "M—me?" he asked.
"Yes. You. You told me once you wanted to meet the Bright Warrior. This is your chance."
"You—you really mean that?" he faltered. As Ravenica nodded, his habitual grin slowly spread across his face. "Well, it's about time. And the special reward he mentioned?"
"It's all yours. You've earned it."
His smile grew. "Glad to hear you admit it. It's good to know you finally appreciate me."
"I do," Ravenica said flatly.
He drew himself up straight, his hand going to his sword hilt; he practically exuded cocky arrogance. "Give me a kiss."
Ravenica watched him for a moment, her face absolutely expressionless, then stepped forward. She put her arms up, and pulled him close. The kiss she gave him was shockingly passionate; Gabrielle stared in surprise. When the Raven at last released Palaemon, he looked slightly dazed; it seemed to take him a moment to orient himself. As he focused on Ravenica again, she stepped back. No hint of that passion was in her face. "Go on," she told him.
"With pleasure." He tossed her a salute, then turned and sauntered into the hallway. Quickly, Gabrielle glanced at Ravenica's crew; they watched in total silence. Gabrielle could not read any of their faces. She swallowed, suddenly afraid, and caught Caesar's eye. He shook his head, tight-lipped, and looked away.
As the sentries came forward to push Gabrielle and Caesar after Palaemon, Gabrielle couldn't stop herself from throwing a glance back at Ravenica. The Queen of Bounty Hunters raised her hand in salute.
"Gabrielle," she told her, "Goodbye."
The hall through the double doors was dark and cavernous, its ceiling lost in gloom, pitch-dark shadows lying in the corners. As she entered the vast interior space with Caesar at her side and guards at her back, determined to drive her onwards, Gabrielle felt as if she were being swallowed up—entering the belly of the beast.
The footsteps of the sentries at her back echoed behind her and Caesar, bouncing off the high walls and disappearing into the darkness. The hall seemed to stretch out to the fore and to either side of them forever. Gabrielle found herself pressing close to Caesar as the guards pushed them down the hallway, out of sheer fear. Even Palaemon grew more and more subdued as they advanced down that vast stone cave—or so it seemed to Gabrielle. His stride grew less jaunty; the tune he had been idly whistling died on his lips, and he gripped the hilt of his sword with white knuckles as they journeyed deeper into the fort. Gabrielle could barely spare a thought for him, however. All her attention was fixed on the huge doors at the other end of the hallway, the doors they were approaching. Tall and wooden, the twin of the entryway doors, they seemed grim, deadly, dangerous. Abandon hope all ye who enter here, Gabrielle thought, shivering in dread.
As they drew nearer the doors, Gabrielle became aware of a slow, creeping cold—a chill not of the body but of the mind, a sort of bone-deep, primal fear that affected her almost at a level below that of conscious thought. It grew stronger and stronger as they drew nearer and nearer the doors, causing her to tremble and her knees to shake. Her mouth was dry and her hands sweating. Caesar also had paled slightly, Gabrielle saw with a glance at him. As they halted outside the tall wooden doors, waiting for the sentries to open them, Gabrielle realized what she was feeling.
Callisto.
And so it was.
As with Xena and Najara before her, Gabrielle felt her before she saw her.
When the sentries threw open the double doors, it took Gabrielle's eyes a moment to adjust to the lighted interior of the throne room within. However, she did not need light to find the Bright Warrior. As if by instinct, Gabrielle's gaze went to her.
She. As with Najara, as with Xena, the term she seemed a more powerful and potent designation than any mere name or epithet could ever be. Callisto the Fiery, the Bright Warrior—these were simply words used by mere mortal men and women in an attempt to define and limit her—to constrain one who, by the sheer nature of her own existence, defied all constraints. They did not describe her, and could not even begin to capture the essence of what she was. If she could be constrained in such a fashion, then she would not be what she was—and besides, who was there on earth or of the gods who possessed either the power or the audacity to attempt to constrain her?
She was at the other end of the throne room from Gabrielle and Caesar, but it made no difference; Callisto's presence was so strong that the sense of her filled the entire room to the walls, making Gabrielle cower back from her in spite of the distance between them. Gabrielle felt something hard strike her back, and only then realized she had been backing up in an attempt to flee. The sentry behind her shoved her forward again; she staggered forward one step, then stopped, frozen, prevented from moving closer to the throne as if by an invisible wall. Callisto saw it and smiled a small, secret smile.
The Bright Warrior was perched on the throne at the other end of the throne room from the entryway; she was leaning her chin upon her hand. Her pale blonde hair—lighter than Gabrielle's own—was matted, knotted and snarled just as it had been the first time Gabrielle had seen her, and hung in her face. Her large brown eyes were shadowed, thoughtful, and a small smile played about her lips. Xena's chakram hung by her side. She captured the attention to such a degree that it took Gabrielle a moment to register the rest of her surroundings. After a moment, however, she recognized the throne on which Callisto was seated—it was Xena's Dragon Throne, a massive, heavy chair raised off the ground by a flight of steep, narrow steps, its back and arms and legs carved in the shape of sinuous, twisting dragons, gilded and inlaid with jade and rubies and lapis lazuli. The last time Gabrielle had seen it, Caesar had been chained to its steps; the iron ring that had held his chain was still in place. The dragons almost seemed to writhe in the light given off from the firepits—two huge bonfires blazing one on either side of the throne, filling the room with lurid light. The heat from the fires hung, oppressive in the still air, and combined with the Bright Warrior's terrifying presence, gave Gabrielle the feeling of being suffocated; the crackling and roaring of the fires filled her ears. Brilliant sparks reflected from them in the depths of Callisto's brown eyes.
The Bright Warrior raised her head. "Gabrielle." Her voice was soft, yet somehow carried over the crackling of the flames. "Caesar. This is wonderful." That smile tugged at her lips again. "I'm so glad you came."
Gabrielle said nothing. She was breathing too quickly, her heart pounding in her chest. She edged closer to Caesar, throwing a quick glance in his direction; his expression was set and unreadable, but his eyes smoldered. He did not look happy.
"But who," Callisto said, turning those large brown eyes toward Palaemon, "is this?"
Gabrielle thought she would have cowered under the weight of those luminous eyes; but Palaemon proved to be made of sterner stuff. He was pale, and licked his lips briefly, but wrapped his hand around his sword hilt. "The name is Palaemon," he said, and dropped into a bow with a flourish. "Palaemon the Fierce, at your service, my lady," he continued with a brave attempt at a rakish grin.
The Fierce? Gabrielle thought distantly. She guessed he had given himself that name. Callisto merely looked at him, her brown eyes gleaming; Palaemon's grin withered and died on his lips. He swallowed, but soldiered on gamely. "I've always wanted to meet you," he said.
Callisto's smile took a bit of an edge to it. "If only I could say the same."
Palaemon faltered for a split second, then continued. "I'm with the Raven's crew, but I could be persuaded to put my sword at your service." He tried for a grin again, and this time mostly succeeded.
"What an…intriguing…offer," Callisto purred. Gabrielle swallowed, pressing further back from the Bright Warrior's throne. Callisto the Fiery's smile grew. "Are you the one who brought these prisoners in?"
"That's right, my lady," he said at once, and wasted no time embroidering on the assertion. "I prized them from the grip of the fearsome Slaver Lord, and brought them all this way to present them to you in hopes of earning your favor." Under Callisto's delighted smile, Palaemon seemed to regain some of his confidence, he straightened visibly, drawing his shoulders back.
"Excellent," Callisto said. "I'm very, very pleased." Her eyes moved past Palaemon to the men standing behind them. "Sentries," she said, facing them. "Give the orders for the preparations to begin…we wouldn't want our guests to feel unwelcome, now, would we?"
"And my reward?" Palaemon asked.
Callisto looked back at him, her eyes wide and innocent. "Your reward?"
"The sentries said that you promised a 'special' reward for the one who presented the prisoners to you," he said, and gave that rakish grin again.
"I did, didn't I?" Callisto's smile grew sharp as a knife. "Well, you heard the man," she commanded her guards. "Give Palaemon the Fierce his reward."
In that split second, Gabrielle knew; she thought that Palaemon must have figured it out too, although perhaps a hairsbreadth of time later than she did. He stared blankly at Callisto for an instant, then started to reach for his sword, but it was too late; the man standing next to Gabrielle reached out and grabbed him around the throat, while the other sentry almost casually plunged his weapon into Palaemon's chest. A flash of shocked betrayal spread across Palaemon's face for no more than an instant, before the body was released and his corpse crumpled lifelessly to the ground. He was dead before he even had the chance to cry out.
Gabrielle looked away. He should have known better, she thought. Caesar's expression did not so much as flicker, she saw; he remained, staring at Callisto, his features set.
Callisto tilted her head back and laughed wonderfully, shaking her long hair down her back. "Guards," she said, smiling, her brown eyes sparkling. "Give Ravenica her bounty, and remove the remains of her unfortunate friend."
After the guards had withdrawn, there was silence in the throne room, except for the roaring of the fires.
Gabrielle put her back to the wall, swallowing. It never even occurred to her to wonder how Callisto dared to be alone with the two of them; she knew for an absolute fact that neither one of them stood so much as a prayer of harming the Bright Warrior in combat. Callisto clasped her hands together and looked down at the two of them, glancing from one to the other, as solemn as a little girl making an offering to the gods.
"Well, well, well," she said softly. "Alone at last. I must say, the two of you made it just in time."
"Get down off that throne."
Gabrielle jumped at Caesar's iron voice. His tone was harsh and commanding; Gabrielle managed to wrench her attention away from Callisto long enough to see his face. His jaw was set, his dark eyes as hard as chunks of obsidian; his arms were folded across his chest. "That's Xena's throne. You have no right to it." In an intuitive leap, Gabrielle realized that Caesar was totally furious.
"Xena's throne?" Callisto raised an eyebrow. "In case you hadn't noticed, Xena's dead," she said, her brown eyes gleaming, her voice sharp with what almost sounded like anger. "All that was hers is now mine. In fact, you could say, I'm Xena now." She gave that delicately edged smile. "How do you like that…slave?"
"You're not Xena and you never will be," Caesar retorted coldly. Gabrielle gasped.
"Shut up!" she hissed at him. She reached out to him, but he shrugged her hands off without so much as sparing her a glance.
Callisto, however, did not seem angered. "We'll see," was all she said, gently. She turned toward Gabrielle.
"Gabrielle," she said again. "I'm so pleased you could make it. I stopped by your village when I was in the area, but I…guess I must have missed you." The Bright Warrior shook her head sorrowfully. The mention of Potedaia hit Gabrielle like a sword in the gut.
"What…." Her mouth was so dry she could barely speak; she swallowed and tried again. "What a-are you planning on doing with us?"
Callisto gave her bright, sharp smile. "All in good time, dear," she said. Nimbly, she rose to her feet and descended the steps of the throne. "All in good time. Walk with me," she said, indicating a passage to the right of the throne.
The Bright Warrior had turned her back on them, but the thought of attacking her never even crossed Gabrielle's mind; she had no weapon, and even if she had, she knew she was no match for Callisto. The story Joxer had told her so long ago about the deaths of his parents was at the forefront of her mind. As Callisto crossed the floor, Gabrielle glanced over at Caesar, finding herself edging closer to him unconsciously.
"What…." She hesitated, but the fear of the Bright Warrior was stronger than her antipathy for him, and pushed her over the edge. "What do we do?"
He met her gaze. They hadn't spoken since Salmoneus's caravan; she could see him considering whether or not to answer. After a moment he grimaced. "What can we do?" he replied. "We follow her."
Callisto paused by the door and looked back over her shoulder at them; she dropped a wink. Caesar's mouth tightened, but he drew a breath, then started after her—then lurched to a halt, paling. He closed his eyes, muttering a curse; sweat stood out on his forehead. He looked over at Gabrielle, started to say something, then hesitated. At last he said, quietly, "Help me."
Gabrielle stared at him. It was almost a request—no, it was a request. She had never heard this from him before. At last she took his arm and pulled it roughly across her shoulders. She hated to do it, but she did not want to face Callisto alone. When after a hesitation, he gave her a nod of thanks, Gabrielle almost dropped him, she was so stunned. What…?
"Come on," Callisto said, smiling brightly.
They followed Callisto down a dark, stone corridor. Like everything else Gabrielle had seen of this camp, it was untidy; dust lay thickly in the corners and cobwebs festooned the upper walls. The center down the passage alone was relatively clear; Gabrielle guessed because it was walked frequently.
They followed Callisto. The Bright Warrior's charisma was so strong it never even occurred to Gabrielle not to follow. She didn't even bother to keep her eye out for escape routes; what escape could there possibly be? Callisto kept glancing back at them as she led them with that delighted smile; it chilled Gabrielle to the bone. Caesar was still angry; she could practically feel it.
The passageway ended at a small wooden door. Callisto paused before it, smiling, and opened it, standing aside for them with mocking politeness. Gabrielle swallowed and stepped through it, with Caesar leaning on her—then froze, overwhelmed by an icy chill.
They had entered Callisto's private sleeping chambers.
The bedchamber, Gabrielle would realize after a few moments had passed, looked strangely like the room of a young girl. A bright fire crackled merrily in the fireplace, shedding light over the entire scene. The floor was carpeted, with a light pink rug that was deep and soft; across the room from the fireplace stood a large bed with a canopy hung with shimmering curtains, of the sort that might belong to a solstice-tale princess. The frilly furnishings looked so wrong for the Bright Warrior—so wrong against the grim stone walls of the room, unadorned with any sort of hangings or tapestries—that the result was totally jarring.
The sense of dislocation became worse when Gabrielle looked closer. At first glance, everything looked bright and pretty. But there was a subtle sense of disrepair that spread throughout the room. The plush carpet was old, threadbare in many places, marked with scuffs and holes. The white posts of the bed had dented and chipped, the paint was peeling away in several spots, revealing dark, splintery wood underneath. The hangings were snagged and running, the counterpane on the bed fraying and coming apart. A doll sat in a rickety, splintering chair in front of the fireplace; Gabrielle saw that its wooden head was cracked, its face and body blackened and singed by fire; half of its long, blonde yarn hair had been burned away. The entire room emanated a sense of disorganization and disarray.
But that was not what caught Gabrielle's attention.
"Xena…."
The word was almost a choked sob. Gabrielle did not know whether she had said it or had Caesar. Or both of them at the same time.
Dominating the room, surrounded by hundreds of lit, burning candles and placed on a pedestal at the center of that fluffy pink carpet, was a large wooden sarcophagus. It was covered with gold leaf, the wood shining with rich oils where it was exposed, inlaid with precious jewels—a thing of beauty, and unlike the rest of the furnishings, in excellent condition. This coffin had been lovingly cared for. But Gabrielle scarcely noticed the jewels, the gleaming gold, the rare and expensive wood.
The lid of the coffin was carved in an exact likeness of the Warrior Princess. Lying on her back, dressed in armor with her hands folded and her eyes closed, she appeared to be sleeping: the illusion was so strong that Gabrielle almost expected her to sit up and greet them. Every detail of her was carved perfectly, from the finely chiseled features to the long hair flowing over her shoulder plates—the hair was so exquisitely done that even individual strands were detailed. The firelight and candlelight flickered over the gleaming gold leaf, so that the image almost appeared to be breathing. Gabrielle felt tears prickle at the back of her lids.
"Xena…Oh, Xena…" she heard herself repeat distantly.
Suddenly her fear of the Bright Warrior vanished, buried beneath a rush of grief. She turned to look at Callisto and saw in her brown eyes, not the terrifying monster who had laughed as she had ordered Palaemon killed, but the stricken child who had knelt beside her—the child who had helped catch Xena's corpse in her arms, had flung back her head and shrieked out her pain at Xena's death, screaming again and again until her cries seemed as if they would split the heavens themselves.
"Xena…" Gabrielle said again, helplessly.
"It's her," Callisto confirmed softly. "She's in there. I had some of my Egyptians do the best they could, I had hoped….but they couldn't do what I had wanted. They're dead now," she added as an afterthought. "But it's all right, really, I think. The coffin—isn't the coffin beautiful?"
"Why are you showing us this?" Gabrielle accused, her throat almost closing with tears. "Why are you making us see this? Why?"
An odd tinge of hurt came into the Bright Warrior's face. "I thought you might like to see her again," she said quietly. "To say goodbye."
Gabrielle swallowed. She couldn't speak. Her mind was filled with the memory of the proud, beautiful, vibrant Dark Conqueror. She had only known her three days, yet even that short length of time had left such an impression on her—Xena had been so strong, so powerful…She had no answer for Callisto. She turned away and her gaze fell on Caesar.
Caesar was not looking at her, at Callisto or anyone. All his attention was fixed on the sarcophagus in the middle of the room. His jaw was tight, his dark eyes shadowed. Slowly, awkwardly, he pushed away from Gabrielle. Moving with careful, unsteady steps, he crossed the floor to the low dais on which the coffin rested, surrounded by candles.
Gabrielle couldn't take her eyes off him, but he could have been alone in the room. He reached the side of the sarcophagus, then slowly and painfully maneuvered himself down to a kneeling position. Gabrielle knew that it must have hurt him, but he gave no sign. He looked tired and strained; his eyes closed briefly, his brows knitting into a frown. There was something so intensely private in his demeanor that Gabrielle almost felt embarrassed to be there; she glanced quickly at Callisto, and saw to her surprise that the Bright Warrior was watching him with open sympathy in her warm brown eyes.
Presently Caesar sighed; his dark head bowed. The scars at his throat and wrists stood out in the firelight. "Xena," he murmured, speaking to the sarcophagus. Slowly, he reached out and touched the carved, wooden forehead with an odd gentleness. His touch trailed down her gilded cheek to rest briefly against her carved lips. "Xena," he repeated, and sat back on his heels, closing his eyes again.
"We're going," Callisto said softly, "to have a little chit-chat, the three of us. It's only right, I think. I have some plans for you both, but I felt it was only fair that you should get to see her again. After all, both of you loved her too."