by By The Sword
Hercules blinked. "Is t ha t . . . ? " He frowned. "No, it couldn't be." His frown deepened. "It isn't, is it?
The bones you . .. ?"
The boy grinned slyly, refusing to admit or deny. "I wanted something to remember you by." He looked away briefly, the toy momentarily forgotten in his lap. "In case you didn't come back."
"Well, I am back. For a while, anyway." He put an arm around the boy's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. ' 'I had to see if you were taking care of your father."
Bestor blushed.
"And," Hercules added, "that you hadn't become an urchin."
Bestor blushed so vividly, Hercules feared the boy's face would burst into flame. He laughed, gratefully accepted a cup of water fresh from the well, and scanned the crowd for signs of Nikos.
"So where is your father?" he asked, thinking it odd the man hadn't come to greet him.
"Well..."
A spark of cold grew in his stomach. ' 'He did get back all right, didn't he?"
Bestor nodded. "Yes, sir, he sure did. But he's not here, see, because..." He grinned, and pointed.
It was then that Hercules realized that the square had been decorated with banners and garlands, that there were long tables set around the perimeter, and that most of the villagers were definitely not wearing what they normally would if they had been working.
He frowned. "I don't get it."
A woman's voice said, "Timing, Hercules. It's all in the timing."
Dutricia squeezed onto the bench beside him. She wore a stunning gown of deepest blue, and a neckline that, he noted while trying not to stare, made plummet look like an imposter. She giggled at his stricken look, bumped shoulders with him, and said, "Don't worry, it's not for you."
"It's for them!" Bestor cried, fairly bouncing with excitement.
The crowd parted to allow him to see Nikos and Lydia standing beneath the overhang at the inn.
There was no doubt why they were so elegantly dressed.
They waved, and he nodded, rose, and met them halfway.
"It's an honor, Hercules," Nikos said, hugging his new wife to his side.
"No, it's my privilege to be here," Hercules answered, and held up a hand to forestall the obvious questions. "Later, my friend. I'll tell you all about it later."
And he did, and Markan rejoiced, and when the wedding celebration was at its height, Hercules slipped away. This was no time to claim the attention the couple deserved. He had already promised he would return one day. He intended to keep it.
But for now, neither they nor Markan needed him any longer, and he took the road to the intersection, looked west and decided he had had enough of that for one lifetime, and headed east instead.
He didn't know what was out there, what he would see when the sun rose again, whom he would meet while on the road, but he had no doubt it wouldn't be dull.
He had no magic.
He didn't need it.
Just being Hercules was enough to guarantee the destiny that walked at his side.
On the other hand . .., he thought when he heard the wings behind him.
“Hercules?'
"Go away."
"I can't. I have a message."
"I don't want to hear it."
" But—"
"Go away. I won't listen."
"But—"
"By the gods, Hermes, haven't you had enough of me for a while? Go. Away."
"All right, if you won't listen to the message—and I assure you, you'll be sorry, the embellishments are quite good—let me talk to you about that tailor."
"What tailor?"
"The one who's going to make sure you at least look presentable the next time you have to save the world."
Hercules threw up his hands, and Hermes laughed as he settled beside him.
"You won't be sorry, you know."
"Don't bet on it, brother."
A few yards later he pointed at Hermes. ' 'No kilts, though. I will absolutely not wear a kilt."
"Wouldn't think of it. It's not you. I have seen, however, the most smashing tunic in Corinth. A few alterations, a nip and a tuck, with those muscles you'll look so good I'm speechless already."
"I'm blessed, Hermes. I'm blessed."
"Not while you're still wearing that dreadful yellow."
Hercules laughed and walked on.
What need did he have for magic?
None.
None at all.