"Our queen is in danger. You could help," Solari said.

"Wait a minute. I don't know what you are talking about," Autolycus protested, backing away.

"You heard us talking," Ephiny said dismissively. She and Solari glanced at each other, and then she spoke to Autolycus. "Velaska enjoyed toying with you. Perhaps the chance to do so again would delay her still further. I'll bet she's arrogant enough—especially now that she's a god—that she'd let herself be delayed, not thinking Gabrielle can really escape her. And that will give Xena and Gabrielle plenty of time to set their trap."

Autolycus could tell Ephiny wished it was so. He did too, and he thought it was plausible—she certainly had Velaska right.

"So, will you help us?" Solari said.

He sputtered. He protested. He asked where the profit would be. He managed a display of cowardice at the thought of encountering Velaska again that was easy enough given his very real terror of her, and a harshness when he scorned their naïvete that he'd do this for Xena and Gabrielle. "They can take care of themselves. If you thought I did what I did of my own will—well, you're wrong. I work for profit."

They listened, stony faced, as he retreated, still protesting loudly. Autolycus breathed in relief as he left the caves—and commenced worrying. Gabrielle, hunted, by that insane bitch—the thought clutched his heart and he could not ignore it or shake it loose.

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The thief gone, Ephiny and Solari looked at each other.

Ephiny spoke first. "He's lying."

"Yeah."

"OK then. If he follows us, give orders that he's not to be interfered with—or noticed. We can only delay her so much—if he helps, it'll be good."

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The old healer, who had ways of knowing things, watched all of this exchange, especially the troubled and calculating look on the thief's face when he believed himself unobserved by any of them.

Quickly, before Ephiny and her party departed, she spoke with her young apprentice. Haemerasia was a scout as well as a promising young healer. She would join Ephiny's party and the old healer made sure she would have the supplies she might need.

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Xena could take care of her—always did, he knew so very well now. Xena had a plan.

He told himself this repeatedly as he carefully followed the small band of Amazons. He was just going to see how their plan worked, he told himself. He was certainly not going to put himself in the way of Velaska—that would be crazy, that would not be in line with his own survival, and if there was one expertise he possessed that was equal to opening locks and disguise, it was survival.

Any thought of Velaska made him wince with a cold panic, his bruises and arm twinging. Any thought of Gabrielle pursued by Velaska—that too was a cold, sick panic, though the ache of that went deeper somehow, and made it impossible to walk away, as eminently sensible as that sounded to him.

He'd just make sure the plan worked—make sure Xena was able to make her safe. And if it seemed he could distract—if he came up with a brilliant plan—which was, he thought, quite likely—that just happened to help out and wouldn't be so very dangerous, then, perhaps….

His mind worked on the plan automatically, as he silently moved through the forest.