Free Timothy Boggs - Hercules Legendary Joureneys 03 by The Eye Of The Ram

be a star."
    "Of course you do, my dear," Salmoneus responded kindly. She was a short, rather plain woman with close-cropped brown hair and a gently rounded figure from top to bottom, and she wore a certain pungent, familiar perfume he couldn't quite place. He tilted his head toward Flovi. "Just tell him what you're going to sing and he'll—"
    "Sorry, but I work alone," she declared.

    Salmoneus felt the smile begin to crack. "Whatever you want... uh ..."
    "Merta," she said.
    "Lovely name."
    "Lovely," Flovi whispered, loud enough for them to hear.
    Merta glanced at him, looked back at Salmoneus, blinked once, and looked at Flovi again. "Do ... do I know you?"
    "No," Flovi answered wistfully.
    "Oh."
    "The song," Salmoneus prodded gently. He was hungry, and would barely have time to eat before the performance as it was. He'd give the little woman two notes, maybe three, before ending the session.
    Merta took another long second before turning back to him. She clasped her hands loosely at her waist, swallowed nervously, and without introduction began to sing.
    Salmoneus didn't recognize the melody, but he gave her a lot more than the allotted three notes.
    Especially when Flovi, unbidden, took up his flute and added a bittersweet background to her song. When she finished, Virgil sighed in appreciation while, at the same time, dabbing at his eyes with his sleeves.
    Flovi simply gaped, the flute forgotten in his hands.
    "That was..." Salmoneus wasn't quite sure what to say. It was lovely, to be sure; it was moving, without a doubt; yet something vital was missing. A resonance, perhaps, or a depth that he reckoned, that he prayed, might come with experience and training. "Good."
    Merta stared. "Good? That's it? Even the jackass thinks I'm better than that."
    "Hey," Flovi muttered.
    "Not you," she snapped.
    "All right—very good, then," Salmoneus allowed as he stood. Before she could protest, he was around the table and had a hand on her elbow. He told her on the way to the exit that he would be honored if she would sing the following night, that she should practice well and long without straining that voice, and that she should, under no circumstances, let anyone know how much he would pay her.
    Merta stopped on the threshold. "Pay?" When she smiled, she was no longer plain. "Pay?"
    "Pay," he said, and gave her a gentle shove outside. When she was gone, he turned to Virgil. "Two things."
    "Name it," the young man said eagerly.
    "First, be sure that woman shows up."
    "Got it."
    "I'll do it," Flovi volunteered, and was out of the tavern before either man could stop him.
    Salmoneus shrugged. "Okay, now I eat."
    "The second thing?" Virgil reminded him.
    "Oh. Yes. Make sure that Olivia woman doesn't show up."
    "What?"
    "Virgil, she'll put everyone to sleep who hasn't already climbed over the walls if we let her go on. We'll be dead, broke, and ruined."
    "She'll close us down if we do it."
    Salmoneus smiled. "She likes you, son. Keep her happy."
    Virgil paled.
    Flovi ran back into the room. "You'd better come with me."
    "Now what?" Salmoneus patted his stomach. "I haven't eaten all day. How can I—"
    "Herc—" He glanced at Virgil. "Your strongman is dead."
    "What?"
    Flovi flapped a hand. "Okay, maybe he's not dead, but he's lying down in the middle of the arena, and he isn't moving."

    •
    •
    •

    Hercules heard hushed voices.

    This, he thought sourly, is getting to be a habit.
    After some effort his eyes fluttered open and squinted against the afternoon's light. He lay on his stomach, and as the voices expressed varying degrees of gratitude that he was still alive, he pushed himself up to his hands and knees. He braced himself for another shock, another plunge into the dark, then sat back on his heels, palms resting on his thighs.
    He felt no tingling at all, and he seemed to be in one piece. No burns on his skin, no scorch marks on his clothing, nothing on the arm guards forged by Hephestus specially for him.
    It was as if