DISCLAIMER
Though the characters in this tale may physically remind you of people that you know, they are in no way affiliated with, or based upon, the characters of Xena and Gabrielle as used in Xena: Warrior Princess. It may shock you; nay, disgust you to know that I have watched barely three episodes of your favourite TV series (perhaps four years ago?) and so would not be able to draw upon those characters even if I wanted to. Not my fault, mind you, but that of the broadcasting authorities in my country. However, I am aware of certain physical similarities and therefore invite you to employ your own wild imagination to make the leap.

SEX/VIOLENCE/HANGOVERS/THE POWER OF P/NUDITY/GOVERNMENT BUILDINGS/BUREAUCRACY WARNING
 I’m not a bad person, really I’m not. I’ve tried to be good about all of it, bitten my tongue (that was for fun), behaved in a generally acceptable manner… I’ve even left out sex. Honest. Couldn’t help the subtext that sneaked in – I don’t lock my brain at night so I can’t account for the … rabble… but still.

COMMENTS
You are most welcome to share them with me, as long as you adore me madly. No, but really. Please don't waste time with pettiness or snotty comments - karma will pay attention, but I won't. Constructive criticism will be welcomed with open arms. As will funny poems, very short epics, autographed Gary Larson pictures, and Alanis Morissette when she’s not feeling homicidal. Find me at: kalexy@webmail.co.za

AND FINALLY
If you’re reading this you’re standing just close enough.

CHAPTER NINE

“Eric!”

Scowling darkly the bedraggled prince shoved a dry cracker into his mouth and chewed with messy effort, barely glancing up as the knight slid into the seat opposite him. Considering that the previous night they had between them single-handedly boosted the revenue of the inn beyond any point thought possible, she looked far too good for his taste this morning. Motioning at a serving girl for a cup of coffee she rubbed the back of her head thoughtfully.

“Eric, Helena’s gone and … Eric, are you listening at all? Why is that redhead in the corner winking at me?”

Studying the woman in question the prince blinked gingerly. “Well, she would. With you dancing on her table so scantily dressed and all. Told you it was poor taste, but would you listen? No. Not you. Why are you shouting??”

“I wasn’t even talking right then!” Examining his bloodshot eyes and the tuft of blonde hair that protruded from the hairline above his brow like an eagle’s crest she shook her head delicately. “You, my dear friend, are a mess.”

“Thank you. You have no right not to be.” Picking up a cracker he lifted it halfway to his mouth before he paused. “What did you say about Helena?”

“I said she’s gone. Taken every last thing and left. Oh – and welcome back to the world of the moderately conscious, by the way.”

“Take your moderate consciousness and stuff it in your ears. It’s overrated.” Taking a bite of the cracker he chewed thoughtfully before he continued. “Where did she go, Crispin?”

“Here, let me consult my magical clairvoyant thumb.” With a waggle of said digit in front of his bleary eyes the knight glowered at him. “How should I know, Eric? I was as cognisant as a bear in winter, hibernating on my stomach with scraps of food stuck in my collar. It’s not as if she left me a nice note and a bunch of flowers!”

“I don’t blame her,” Eric muttered petulantly. “You may look good in the morning but your temperament certainly compensates for that.” He considered her as she picked up the coffee and glowered at him over the rim of the cup tetchily. “Though you do look damned good, you brute. Look, she couldn’t have gone far. All we do is ask a few choice questions at the two gates and follow the trail. Coinage begets information.”

Crispin took a cautious sip of the hot coffee, her blue gaze far in the distance. When she had swallowed she placed the cup squarely back on the table before she looked Eric straight in the eyes. “And what if she doesn’t want to be found, Eric? I told her she could go, and she has wanted to, all this time. Surely her will must count for something? By now, at least?” Frowning at herself she picked up the cup again and cradled it between her hands, staring into the dark liquid for a moment before she seemed to collect herself. “Would it be fair to do this to her a second time? I think I need to let her leave, Eric. I think I need to … go to that hot spring in Morag Mountain and eat fruit off the trees for a few days.”

Eric clapped his hands enthusiastically before wincing first at the loud sound and then at Crispin’s resentful look. “Sorry. Reflex. It’s a lovely idea, though. My skin could do with the miraculously restorative powers of stinky water. It’s been a rough year for me - I look a little peaky, don’t I look a little pea…” Catching sight of the dark woman’s even darker expression he trailed off and shrugged his broad shoulders. “Well, I feel a tad peaky. At any rate. It’s an immense idea. Just you and me, soaking up the good life much like we used to…”

“I was thinking I’d go alone.”

“Well, then you obviously aren’t that great at thinking, Crispin.” Dusting the little bits of cracker off his crinkled tunic he interrupted before she even had time to speak. “Oh, shush. You’re a big baby. I’m coming, and that’s final.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Good.”

“Excellent.”

Crispin glared at the handsome – though slightly dishevelled - blonde man until she was sure that he was paying absolutely no attention before she abandoned the effort and took a sip of her coffee. “Well all right then. I was going to invite you anyway.”

“Troll.”

“You’ve said.”

They spent a rare moment in silence before Eric dropped a few coins on the table and stood up. “Well, that’s settled. Now all we need to do is find the princess and then, tallyho, hot springs here we come!”

Halfway through rising from her seat Crispin promptly sat back down. “When exactly did you lose track of our conversation, Eric? Would you like me to fill in the blanks for your mead-addled mind?”

“Oh pish, Crispin.” Eric sat down again, completely confusing the serving girl who was on her way to clear their table. “I’m not suggesting that I hunt her down and sling her over my shoulder like some type of ruffian…”

“Your shoulder wouldn’t know what to do with her.”

“… I’m merely suggesting that we find her and make sure that she’s all right before we just abandon her. She might not have left of her own free will, did you ever consider that?”

He observed her intently as she first made a rather rude noise and shrugged, then started drumming on the table slowly with her long fingers, her blue eyes fixed on a distant point. When she looked up at him her gaze was impassive, but her voice could not hide the hope. “You think she might not have wanted to leave?” Clearing her throat against the telling lilt she continued in a more subdued tone. “That’s not entirely impossible, Eric. Maybe we should locate her - just to ensure that she’s all right.”

Patting himself on the back mentally the blonde man reached over and took one of her hands in his. “You know her better than I do. Where do we start?”

“Well, she wouldn’t go to her father, she seems to…” Suddenly Crispin stopped, her hand tightening around his in a rather unpleasantly firm clinch. “Eric, do you remember two night ago when Helena told us that she’d met a man?”

“Hmm, of that night I recall remarkably little.”

“Try.” Drawing her hand from his she smacked his arm for emphasis. “She said he was a … damn it, what was it… was he a priest? A painter?”

“You’re sticking with a theme, I see. Are you positive that it started with a ‘p’?”

“Positive may be too strong a word, but it’s the only thing that I’m having any recollection of at all.”

“Do let’s have faith in your mead-soaked mind.” Leaning back to avoid the back of her hand he rubbed his bristly chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Let’s see. Priest. Painter. Pig-farmer. Pot-maker. Pastry baker. Peach seller. Player. Parmesan. Platypus. Perti…”

“What in the name of trotters are you doing, Eric?”

Pouting at her raised eyebrows he folded his arms. “It’s called being helpful, Crispin. It’s a new thing. You wouldn’t know about it.”

“It should be called being an obstruction of justice. Of all the silliness. Platypus? The word doesn’t even exist.”

“It does!” Eric was just shifting in his seat to get a good position for a long argument when Crispin abruptly leaned forward, her sudden proximity to him a little startling for his liking.

“What were the other ones you said? The reasonable ones, I mean.”

“Right. Peach seller?”

“No! How’s that reasonable? It was… it was a player, Eric.”

“And that’s more reasonable to your mind? Well, that speaks for itself.”

Crispin ignored his banter, her gaze thoughtful. When he saw the expression on her face he sat forward, immediately serious. “Are you completely sure about that, Crispin? It was an vague night.”

“I’m sure, Eric. And I know where they were, at that. The square near Aldrich’s Tavern to the east. I led Helena there myself on the day that she was following me.” Rising quickly Crispin almost knocked over the unfortunate serving girl. “That will be the place where we start.”

Eric dropped another coin on the table before he joined her. “Good woman.” Hooking his arm through hers he waltzed her out, stopping just before the exit to take a deep breath and tilt his handsome face to the sky. “Ah, I can already feel the warm water on my skin.” His bliss was short-lived, as he suddenly found himself propelled from the Inn by a flushed knight. “Crispin? What was that about?”

Glancing over her shoulder quickly she never slowed her step. “You may have been feeling the water on your skin, Eric, but in that exact spot I was feeling rather something else on my behind.” When he took a quick look over his shoulder and spied the redhead grinning to herself it was only Crispin’s dark scowl that prevented him from bursting into laughter.

CHAPTER TEN...