A/N So here we are at the start of a new story.

This is the sequel to Where The Wind Blows and it really will make much more sense if you have read that (and indeed Invictus) first.

As before this is not a slash story.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter of Where The Wind Blows. I promise that reviews do mean an awful lot to me...

With that in mind please review this one too. I hope you all enjoy it! :-)

Promises To Keep

Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village though;

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there is some mistake.

The only other sound's the sweep

Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

(Robert Frost – Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening)

Jason bit his lip and counted the meagre supply of coins in his hand again. He sighed. No matter how many times he counted it nor which way he looked at it it still wasn't enough. Why hadn't Hercules spoken to him sooner? He growled lightly in frustration. If he had known how short on money they were becoming he could have helped to do something about it. But no, Hercules hadn't told him; had once again been trying to protect him from the world and from the realities of life. Mustn't upset the family head-case he thought more than a little bitterly. He sighed again and ran one hand through his dark hair. That was uncharitable and unkind of him. The truth was that he knew that it was only a couple of months since he had had some kind of breakdown and both Pythagoras and Hercules had been unfailingly kind and supportive in the aftermath. It was just that even now they were walking on eggshells around him, clearly afraid of upsetting him and risking him falling apart again. The problem with that was that it was all beginning to get more than a little suffocating. While it was lovely that his friends were so concerned for his well-being he was used to having a lot more space – a lot more independence – than the other two seemed to be willing to give him. Sooner or later he was going to have to say something; to make them realise that he really didn't need protecting; that he was far from being as fragile as they both seemed to think. Yes he still had his dark days; days when the walls closed in on him; days when all he really wanted to do was shut himself off from the world; or lashed out angrily at his friends, only to feel guilty and apologise wholeheartedly later; but he needed to move on – to start living his life properly again. It was time to stop living in the past and start looking towards the future. But he wasn't entirely sure that either Pythagoras or Hercules was quite ready for that. It was a problem that he had been running over in his mind for a little while now. He would never want to hurt his friends or to seem ungrateful or uncaring but he needed to regain some measure of control over his own life; needed his friends to start trusting his reactions again; needed them to realise that he was not about to fall apart at a second's notice and that they could share the problems of the household with him without fear of upsetting him.

Of course that brought him right back to their current predicament. There was once again little food in the house – only enough for two meagre portions and not three. Whilst there was still a little money in the joint fund it all came down to a simple choice – food or medicine. Jason sighed. It should have been a simple thing. There really shouldn't have needed to be a choice at all. But then, when had their lives ever been that easy?

The winter storms had been particularly harsh this year from what his friends were telling him. More often than not Jason found himself trying to spend as little time as possible out of doors, where the icy wind howled bone-chillingly through the bare streets, punctuated by lashing rain storms. If you took the wind away it wouldn't really be all that cold – it certainly wasn't on the rare occasions that the frigid gusts died down – but as soon as another storm hit the temperature plummeted. A knock on effect from that was that there simply weren't the ships arriving at the docks at the moment. The journey along the storm lashed coast-line and into the Atlantian harbour was too dangerous for all but the most fool-hardy sailors to attempt. It meant that all casual work at the docks had dried up for the time being, leaving Jason once again unemployed. Perdikkas, the harbour-master, had been deeply apologetic and had assured the young man that as soon as the weather improved and vessels started to return to the harbour his job would be available once again. As it was there wasn't really enough work for the permanent dockers let alone a young man employed on a casual basis.

Of course even that should not have been too much of a problem. Yes money would have been a little tighter for a while but Pythagoras had been putting a little away for a while now to see them through the lean times and there were always other ways of earning a few pennies here and there. But then disaster had struck. Jason couldn't always bring himself to believe wholeheartedly in the Atlantian gods but right now he thought that they were probably laughing. Why was it that whenever things seemed to be going well for the three of them something came along and everything blew up in their faces once more? In this case it had arrived in the form of a particularly nasty and virulent epidemic. One of those illnesses that spring up from time to time and strike down large swathes of the population – particularly the elderly, the infirm or the very young. In this case it was a respiratory illness and the corpse bearers had been unable to keep up with demand – bodies piling high in their workshops as they awaited preparation and burial.

Many of the poorest could not afford the services of a doctor and as these were also generally the most vulnerable – the elderly and infirm – they had sought aid from alternative sources. Many simply went to the healing shrine at the Temple and prayed for deliverance, but others looked for help from those who had some small skills in the healing arts but were not officially recognised as doctors. It was then that Jason came to realise just how respected Pythagoras was. The young genius had, it appeared, something of a reputation as a healer and, as his kind heart would not let him turn the needy away, the demands on his time had increased as the epidemic had progressed. Pythagoras had spent much of the next few weeks heeding the call of those less fortunate than himself and had spent most of his time travelling through the deserted streets between the houses of the sick, tending to those he could and helping to ease the sufferings of those for whom healing came too late. He had grown tired and drawn, his pale face becoming increasingly haggard despite his two friends' attempts to relieve as much of his burden as they could.

Jason sighed. It had been inevitable, he supposed, that in the end Pythagoras had succumbed to the same illness he had been treating for so many weeks. He had woken one morning feverish and restless, his throat sore and his lungs congested. By that time the worst of the epidemic had passed and life for most of Atlantis was beginning to return to normal. In spite of Pythagoras' protestations that all he needed was a little rest Hercules had called in a physician and it had been as well that he had. Within days the young mathematician had become dangerously ill, tossing from side to side in his bed, delirious and unable to recognise his friends, his lungs so congested that at times it seemed he could barely breathe. He had recovered slowly – his youth and general good health acting in his favour – but it was a slow process and he still required plenty of care and healing tonics.

Most of the saved funds had gone on that of course. Neither Hercules nor Jason had felt the need to discuss the matter – Pythagoras' health was far more important. Still, the big man had completely failed to let Jason know just how low the money was getting. He disappeared each morning in search of work leaving his dark haired companion to look after their blonde friend. So far he had been unsuccessful. Jason had discovered by accident just how little money they really had and had taken notice of how little food there really was in the cupboard. Of course making sure that Pythagoras ate as much as he could and got the medicines that were necessary were the number one priority to his younger friend. After which Jason decided that Hercules probably needed whatever food was left more than he did – after all the burly wrestler spent most of the day tramping the streets in search of employment and only returned to the house after sundown, cold and tired. Barring a few scraps reserved for Isosceles the kitten, that accounted for most of the food – although Jason had been careful to ration it as much as possible to make it last for as long as possible. Consequently the young man had not eaten for the last three days and it looked like today would be no different, he thought grimly. In fact there really was only enough food left for one more meal for his two friends and the small amount of coins in his hand needed to be used for medicine for Pythagoras.

Actually it was time for the young mathematician to take another dose, the last of the tonic that they currently possessed. Once he had ensured that Pythagoras had swallowed it, had eaten and was as comfortable as possible, Jason would slip out to the agora to fetch some more from the apothecary's stall that had sprung up on the one corner. It charged exorbitant prices but there was no other choice. Whilst Pythagoras himself might have managed to brew up a decent healing tonic from herbs he had gathered were he in good health, neither one of his friends possessed the same sort of skill. Briefly Jason wondered whether he could stay out a little longer today – have a look for some work himself. It all depended on how well Pythagoras was. Hercules would kill him for leaving the young genius alone for too long but in the end it might be the only thing that stood between the three of them and starvation. It had got to the stage where Jason was even willing to swallow his pride and beg for help from any friends he might have. But who could he ask? Ariadne was still as distant as the moon up at the Palace. If she knew the situation she would undoubtedly help but the Palace had been sealed off for the duration of the epidemic and he had no way of getting word to her. Meriones was abroad on one of his business trips and Talos had quite sensibly chosen to remove Castiantiera to the countryside in the early days of the outbreak – reasoning that his beloved daughter would be safer away from the city. No, there really was no one he could ask for help.

Gathering up the herbal tonic that Pythagoras was to take and fixing a bowl of bread soaked in a little milk and honey for the mathematician to eat, Jason stood and prepared to take what little bits he had to his friend. As he rose a wave of light-headedness briefly overcame him and he wavered, holding on to the table until the dizziness had passed. It would not do to let Pythagoras know that he hadn't eaten in the last few days of course – would only serve to make the gentle young man worry and feel guilty – anymore than it would help to let Hercules know. He could stand it for a little while longer; was strong enough and healthy enough to last a few more days; and hopefully by that time either he or Hercules would have found some work and would have some money coming into the house.

Jason turned as the door opened. Hercules was back early it seemed.

"Everything alright?" he asked.

Hercules grunted.

"I needed food before I carried on," he said.

"There's bread on the shelves," Jason said softly.

Hercules crossed over and picked the bread up. Just as he was about to take a bite he paused and looked suspiciously at Jason.

"Where's yours?" he asked.

"I ate earlier," Jason answered with a smile, returning Hercules' hard look with an unwavering gaze of his own.

It was not actually a lie, he told himself, it was just that he hadn't said how much earlier. Somehow he didn't think his large friend would be very pleased to discover that "earlier" meant three days ago, particularly given how obsessive he felt the big man had become over his eating habits.

Finally Hercules nodded, clearly satisfied that Jason was telling the truth and wolfed down the small piece of bread he held in two short bites. Jason released the breath he had been holding silently and plastered on his best lop-sided grin.

"I'll be nipping out to the agora later to get some more tonic," he said. "Is there anything else we need?"

Hercules shifted uncomfortably, still not keen to admit to Jason that things were more than a little dire financially.

"Not that I can think of," he said, crossing his fingers behind his back and hoping against hope that he could find something in the way of work today; something that would at least allow him to put a little food back on the table. "Right," he added with false cheerfulness, "the bills are not going to pay themselves. There's money to be made so best I get at it."

As Hercules went back to walking the streets looking for work, Jason made his way across to Pythagoras' room and pulled back the light curtain. The mathematician lay, pale and wan, dozing on his bed, propped up by as many pillows as could be found in the house. He didn't look quite as pale as yesterday, Jason noted, and although his breath still rattled in his chest it was nowhere near as loud as it had been. Pythagoras was most definitely on the mend. Hopefully he would be beginning to be up and around in a few days. Jason paused, taking in the thin frame and the limp blonde curls. Pythagoras had risked his life to help others – the way that he had for Jason so many times in the past – and had very nearly paid the ultimate price. Jason could not – would not – let him down.

Gradually the young man opened his eyes and blinked sleepily at his friend. Jason allowed his forced grin to become wider as he made his way over to Pythagoras' bed and perched on the edge.

"I brought you something to eat," he said lightly.

"What about you?" Pythagoras asked, as astute as ever. "Have you eaten?"

"I told Hercules I ate earlier," Jason managed to evade the question fairly neatly. "It's not much – just a bit of bread and milk – but I thought it would slip down nice and easily."

Pythagoras made a face.

"I'm not really all that hungry," he ventured.

"Come on," Jason coaxed. "You need to keep your strength up. Besides if it was me lying there you'd never let me get away with it."

Pythagoras smiled, a pale shadow of his usual expression, acknowledging the truth of what his friend said. They had been in the opposite situation before with Pythagoras trying to persuade Jason to eat when he was clearly unwell and didn't feel like it – and he had most definitely not allowed the other young man to get away with not eating. Slowly he nodded and drank the frankly vile tonic that the healer had suggested, shuddering slightly at the taste. Truthfully he believed that he could brew something much more effective and certainly more palatable himself but as at present that was not an option – and as he could not ask either of his friends to do it (Jason's grasp of herb lore was rudimentary to say the least and the gods only knew what Hercules would come up with) – he was stuck taking the awful concoction that Jason went to the apothecary to purchase. Pythagoras sighed. It went against his nature to put his friends to so much trouble but he could not even seem to get up the energy to get out of bed at the moment. The healer in him recognised that it would be better for everyone if he stayed put and allowed his body to heal and it did feel sort of nice to have someone else fussing around him for a change – even if that someone clearly wasn't all that sure about what he was doing and wasn't used to nursing anyone.

Tonic drunk, he turned to the small bowl of bread and milk that Jason had brought, noting with pleasure that his friend had not overfilled the bowl in the same way that Hercules would. Perhaps Jason understood that his appetite was poor at the moment. Something in his companion's face worried him though – a tiredness in those hazel eyes that did not belong there. Meal finished he turned back to Jason determined to get to the bottom of what his friend was thinking.

"Is everything alright?" he asked softly.

Jason ruthlessly suppressed a wince. Even sick Pythagoras was still one of the most perceptive and astute men he knew. For everyone's sake he could not afford to falter though. Somehow he just needed to earn a few small coins. Just enough to buy them a decent loaf of bread and everything would be fine. But oh gods he was so hungry right now that he almost felt faint. Willing his stomach not to rumble and give him away he smiled brightly at Pythagoras as he fixed the young man's pillows and drew the blanket a bit more firmly over his friend.

"Everything's fine," he said firmly. "I was just working out what I needed to get from the agora. I need to nip out and get some more tonic if you'll be alright on your own for a bit?"

"I will be quite alright," Pythagoras affirmed. "I doubt I will need the tonic for much longer though." He broke off as a hacking cough bubbled wetly from his throat.

"No of course you won't," Jason retorted sarcastically. He stood up quickly and picked up the bowl and cup from the floor by the bed. "Look just let yourself have a bit of a kip and I'll be back before you know it."

"A bit of a what?" Pythagoras asked with genuine confusion. He was by now used to most of Jason's strange sayings and phrases – even if he didn't always understand what they meant – but once in a while one of them would still catch him unawares.

"Go to sleep, Pythagoras," Jason said with a sigh. "You'll get better much quicker if you get some rest… isn't that what you always tell me?"

With one final check around him Jason headed out of the room, carefully pulling the curtain behind him, and crossed the room, intent on making his way to the agora and finding some sort of work.

A rare break in the winter storms had convinced Minos that now would be a good time to go back out into the city and make his presence known amongst the people once again. The recent epidemic had confined the royal household to the Palace for weeks now; the risk that the King, with his less than robust constitution, or Ariadne, as sole heir to the throne, might contract the fever had been far too great to take. For herself Pasiphae had been completely unafraid. She had he constitution of an ox and her special abilities and knowledge of herb lore meant that she was unlikely to contract anything unless she had prolonged exposure to it.

Ariadne had found being confined to the Palace particularly hard, believing that her duty was to help her people as much as possible; to be seen amongst them in their hour of need. If the risks had been less then it would have been a clever political move, Pasiphae conceded as she sat at her dressing table brushing her long hair. The people would have loved their Princess even more for sharing in their sorrows and misfortunes. Innocent little Ariadne was becoming politically very astute, although in this case her stepmother believed that her desire to show solidarity with the beleaguered populous actually had more to do with both a misguided sense of duty and affection towards the people and the desire to check on the well-being of a certain dark haired young man.

Minos, however, had been adamant. He had told his daughter in no uncertain terms that her duty was to stay alive for the sake of the future of Atlantis and that she would therefore not be risking her life, or the lives of the other residents of the Palace, by making any unwise and ill-conceived visits into the city. The King had even gone as far as having the passageway between the Palace and Temple temporarily sealed and every door to the outside world locked and guarded to prevent his somewhat impulsive daughter from attempting to circumvent his rules.

The Palace had its own water supply of course and enough food in the storerooms to withstand months of siege. Still it was an inconvenience for Pasiphae to be locked inside with her husband and her despised stepdaughter – although the knowledge of the secret that they both shared had improved relations between the two women of late and, if they were still not exactly cordial, they were at least not at war at present.

Life over the last month had fallen into a routine – a tedious routine – and Pasiphae had awoken this morning with no real expectation that today would be any different from yesterday or the day before. The written summons from Minos, informing her that with the plague subsiding and the weather easing he would be riding out into his city to see and be seen and would expect her presence at his side, had come as somewhat of a surprise. Pasiphae did not like surprises. To her mind they only occurred as a result of poor planning – something she strove to avoid wherever possible.

She strode down the corridors towards the stables clad in her riding gear, barely registering the frightened looks and genuflections of those she passed. The recent epidemic had been an inconvenience. Had prevented her from implementing the first phase of her scheme to make Minos aware of her son's existence and to reconcile her husband to the boy's presence; to ensure that the King did not view Jason as a threat and to persuade him to allow the boy to live at her side. The King's mood had been black for weeks now because of the situation in the city and as a result the Queen had not dared to risk her son's safety by making any rash moves.

And just how had Jason fared in a city besieged by disease? Pasiphae knew that this illness was most dangerous to the infirm, the very young or the elderly and Jason fell into none of those groups. But he had also not been raised in Atlantis. Would he therefore be more susceptible to their diseases? Pasiphae shuddered at the thought. No, Jason was young and healthy and strong. She had no reason to believe that he had even caught the fever; had no reason to believe that he was anything less than robust and healthy. And yet her mind had conjured all sorts of horrific images over the last month. What was the use of all her power and wealth, she wondered bitterly, if she could not help – could not protect – the one person that actually meant something to her? The one person she longed to be able to acknowledge and openly show her love for. It was worth next to nothing, she decided, when her son had been trapped in the city with disease all around him and the death toll growing daily and she had been unable to do anything to help him. And Jason did not belong there; did not belong amongst those peasants. It all seemed so unfair somehow.

With gentle hands she started to ready her sleek chestnut horse. She could have demanded that a servant prepare the beast for her of course, but in truth she preferred to see to the task herself. The beast was noble and highly strung and over the years she had owned him they had come to understand one another. The task of saddling her horse was one that she found peculiarly soothing. He was restive today and she soothed him with soft words as she carded her hand through his mane.

"He is a truly beautiful creature," Minos voice made her jump.

The horse nickered uneasily and moved awkwardly, clearly feeling her surprise.

"Much like his mistress," the King continued.

Pasiphae smiled coolly. It had been a long time since her husband had paid her a compliment of that nature and she found that it sat uneasily in her mind.

"You are too kind My Lord," she murmured.

"I speak only the truth," Minos asserted, coming forward and resting a hand on the dark mane. "You are ready." It was not phrased as a question.

"I am My Lord," Pasiphae confirmed, swinging herself up into the saddle.

Minos' horse was being prepared for him, she noted as she rode out into the courtyard to join the other members of her husband's retinue who were to venture into the city today. There was much muted grumbling amongst the courtiers. It amused Pasiphae to hear it. Many of those present were toadies and sycophants and would never dare to openly say no to their King or to allow him to hear them complain about this outing. It was obvious, however, that most of these fat, flattering fools felt that it was still too dangerous to be going out into a city where the epidemic still lingered – although it had largely died out – and resented the fact that they were being asked to risk their own skins – particularly this early in the morning. They were careful to keep their complaints quiet though and several openly cast fearful looks in the Queen's direction. They all knew that she could be terrible indeed when provoked.

Pasiphae smiled openly as Minos came out into the square and moved to greet him, playing the part of the dutiful wife to perfection as always.

"Ariadne will not be joining us My Lord?" she asked smoothly.

Minos smiled at the mention of his beloved daughter.

"No," he said. "Much as I feel the danger has largely abated I would still not risk her life unnecessarily. She will await our return anxiously." He smiled again. "I must confess that I think that Ariadne is hoping that the situation in the city will have improved enough to allow her to recommence her duties at the Temple. I have promised her that I will lift some of the current restrictions if that is indeed the case."

Pasiphae fought the urge to smirk knowingly. It was not her duties at the Temple that the Princess was missing she was sure. Sometimes Minos was remarkably naïve when it came to his daughter, still seeing her as the innocent little girl and not the strong young woman she had become. And it was typical, she reflected bitterly. He was more than willing to risk the health of his wife but not that of his daughter.

Something in her face must have alerted Minos to some of her feelings although he misread them completely. Drawing his horse nearer to hers he rested a hand on her shoulder.

"If you do not wish to come into the city I will understand my love," he said softly so that no-one could overhear them. "I would not have you risk yourself if you are not comfortable. I truly believe that there will be no danger to either one of us from this contagion now, but if you wish to remain here then I will raise no objection. I simply believed that it would be good for the people to see that we are unharmed and are sharing in their troubles by riding through the streets."

Pasiphae bristled slightly at the implication that she might be in anyway afraid. Minos did not know her well at all, despite the long years of their marriage, if that was what he truly believed. He is trying to be kind, she reminded herself. He is trying to spare me any discomfort. She raised an eyebrow coolly.

"I have not complained," she murmured, "and nor will I do so. I am in no way afraid for my own health. I merely worry that this excursion is unwise for you My Lord. If you believe that this is a risk that is worth your while to take then you will not find me wanting. I will be at your side every step of the way."

A brief smile graced Minos' thin face. His wife truly was a remarkable woman, he reflected. He took comfort frequently in her strength and her fire. Pasiphae was formidable at the best of times and when danger or disaster threatened she was a force to be reckoned with.

"Then we will ride out together," he declared. His eyes softened as he regarded her. "I take such comfort from your strength," he murmured.

As they rode out through the Palace gateway Pasiphae looked around herself grimly. It was unlikely that she would see Jason in the streets and even if she did she could not acknowledge the fact. And yet the mother in her jumped at the chance to reassure herself that the young man had come through the recent epidemic unscathed. If she could just see him… she ruthlessly clamped down on that thought. It would do no one any good for her to start acting like a needy and hysterical woman. She had never done it before and saw no reason to begin now.

The streets were beginning to return to their usual level of bustle and activity. Now the immediate threat of disease had passed, the merchants were once again beginning to hawk their wares in the agora and the populous was once again coming out of their houses to buy them. Here and there a market stall stood empty though, evidence of another citizen who would not return. Soon new traders would fill the empty slots but for now they acted as a reminder to the people of the sorrow they had so recently lived through. In a side street one of the death carts trundled along, evidence that the corpse buriers were still hard at work. The Queen's sharp eyes caught sight of it at once although she chose not to draw the attention of anyone in their party to its presence. There was no point upsetting the whining courtiers any more than they already were and really Minos was correct – there was little risk to any of their party now.

As they rounded a corner, horses moving at a brisk walk, the citizens dropped to one knee and bowed their heads as was customary in the presence of the royal family. Then she saw him. Jason was near the corner, by a stall that advertised the wares of a travelling apothecary who she noted dispassionately was distinctly overpriced. As they approached he dropped down like his fellow citizens, head bowed. The sight made Pasiphae's blood boil. Her son should not need to genuflect like a peasant – and certainly not in the presence of the snivelling toadies that accompanied her husband everywhere.

The Queen's eyes narrowed as she looked at Jason appraisingly – although she was careful to make it appear as though she was merely looking around the market square with her usual indifference. It would not do to draw attention to Jason by making others believe that she had some special interest in him; she could not expose him to that risk until she was ready to make her move and claim the boy as her own.

He looked well, she decided gratefully, although maybe a little tired and worried – but perhaps that was only to be expected given the recent situation in the city – and she was gratified to note that he seemed to have found some slightly more respectable clothes for once. Not that they were really suitable for a prince of course but at least they made him look a little less like a beggar and the tunic certainly looked a little warmer than his normal one.

The wind was beginning to pick up again. Pasiphae shivered slightly and drew her cloak a little tighter around her shoulders. Just ahead of her Minos was clearly impatient to move on; keen to see as much of the main city as he could and then return to the Palace before the weather closed in again. The Queen risked one final glance back over her shoulder as the party exited the market place. Jason had stood up as soon as the royal party had passed and returned to his business with the apothecary. What that business was Pasiphae did not know. As he himself appeared to be well perhaps one of his friends had fallen ill. She frowned at the thought that her son might have been exposed so closely to this contagion. The politician in her understood the need to keep Jason's parentage a secret at this moment in time and to wait to reveal the truth until the timing was most propitious and would give her the best possible outcome and the most political power; the mother, however, wanted nothing more than to scoop her son up and take him home, where she could be sure that she could keep him safe. Over the last month, with the fever raging in the city, she had nearly gone out of her mind with worry. When had she become so weak and irrational? She had always been a thoroughly political animal; completely focussed on her goals. And yet lately all it seemed to take was the glimpse of some dark curly hair or the sight of a young man running and her thoughts circled back once more to Jason. This current obsession had to stop. It would be better once he was living at the Palace she decided. When she could see him every day then he would no longer have to occupy so much of her waking thought.

As though he could feel her eyes on him, Jason turned and looked directly at his mother. For a moment their eyes met. Pasiphae nearly smiled. There it was. The spark that made Jason, Jason. The direct look that was almost a challenge and was certainly unafraid. He was brave, her boy. Few had ever dared to look at Pasiphae with such directness; without the subservience that she had become accustomed to. His posture had dropped back defensively – as though he expected an attack – but his dark eyes remained calm and unafraid whatever he was really feeling.

He thinks I will harm him, Pasiphae thought with a wrenching feeling. It was unpleasant to realise that her own son was wary of her; did not trust her. He does not know who I am, she reminded herself; he does not know what he is to me. She had been staring at him for too long. Had been careless and was beginning to attract the attention of her husband who had turned back to look at her curiously. With a jerk she forced her eyes back to the front before Minos could follow her gaze and see just what had captured her attention. Do not look back at him again, she repeated the mantra to herself; do not expose either yourself or him in that way. With a forced smile made natural through years of practice she rode forwards to re-join her husband and turned the corner, her son lost in the crowds behind. The Palace lay ahead. Now that she had assured herself of Jason's well-being it was time to begin her campaign to claim his as her own.

Jason frowned. He had felt the Queen's eyes on him the way he had several times in the past. Yet this time had been different somehow. Always before her eyes had seemed to burn right through him. This time they had contained something different. If he didn't know any better he would almost have said that it was concern – affection even – although it had been well hidden. The gaze she had directed at him had seemed softer, more human. Mentally he shrugged. Whatever Pasiphae's game was he would be ready for an attack. The woman was after all a homicidal witch with megalomaniac tendencies. She was not someone to be underestimated and certainly not someone to be trusted. She hated Ariadne and by extension therefore hated him as well.

Ariadne. He sighed softly. As always the beautiful girl was rarely from his thoughts. He smiled softly wondering what she was doing now.

"Oi! Did you want to pay for this or not?" the harsh voice drew him from his daydream.

Jason turned back to the glowering merchant with some consternation.

"Sorry," he mumbled as he reached into the small pouch tucked inside his belt and withdrew the last of the shared funds, handing them to the apothecary. The few small coins he received in return would not even be enough to buy a small loaf of bread.

Jason sighed. He had known that before he had come to the agora but it still left an unpleasant feeling to know just how close they were all coming to starvation once again. Still it could not be helped. If Pythagoras was to continue to get better then he needed to keep taking the medicine contained in the bottle that Jason now wrapped carefully in a cloth and tucked beneath the folds of the cloak he wore against the winter winds.

The cloak had been a present from Meriones, as had the tunic he now wore – long sleeved and made of soft and warm wool. The giant had turned up at the house one day with winter tunics for both Jason and Pythagoras. He had told them that they were the samples he had had Talos make up to check the quality of the workmanship and that he therefore could not sell them. It was a fiction he maintained of course so that his young friends would not feel as though he were offering them charity. As it was the tunics had been gratefully accepted with thanks – although both boys were looking for ways to repay the enormous merchant.

The bottle of medicine that he had tucked inside his cloak was important – precious even – given that they had no way of affording any more at the present time. Perhaps it would be a good idea to take the bottle home where it would be safe before going out in search of work. Plus it would allow him to make sure that Pythagoras was well enough to be left for a little longer.

Decision made, Jason turned and hurried back towards home.

Three hours later Jason was just about ready to admit defeat. There really was no work to be found at the moment it seemed. The combination of winter storms and the recent epidemic had driven merchants away from Atlantis and closed down building projects as well as the port. He stopped for a minute crossing back through the agora to ease his aching feet. Everyone seemed so grim right now and a dark pall seemed to hang over the city depressing the spirits of the inhabitants and making them less than willing to help one another.

Jason sighed. He supposed he would feel a lot more optimistic if his stomach wasn't quite so empty. A little while ago he had stopped by one of the fountains and drank more water than was perhaps good for him in an almost desperate attempt to ease the gnawing ache that had taken up residence in his belly. Now the water sloshed uneasily in his stomach and he grimaced at the feeling. The truth was that he knew he wouldn't be able to go on like this for much longer; knew that he was pushing himself to the limit. But for the sake of his friends he had to go on. Had to at least try to make things better; to find some way of earning a few coins. With renewed determination he moved on, asking at every stall he passed whether anyone needed any errands running.

It was not to be his lucky day it seemed. No-one had any work. He paused again for a moment and instinctively reached out to grab a nearby stall to support himself feeling decidedly shaky and sick to his stomach as dizziness darkened the edges of his vision briefly. He closed his eyes to ride out the wave, opening them as the dizziness passed to look into the concerned face of Egina the milk seller.

"Are you alright lad?" she asked sharply.

"Yeah," Jason answered. "Sorry. I was just… thinking. I didn't mean to do any harm to your stall."

Egina waved off his apology with one hand.

"You've done no harm at all," she said. She narrowed her eyes as she looked at him noting the absence of a milk jug or amphora. "You're not here for milk though are you?"

Jason looked momentarily abashed.

"No," he admitted. "I was going around the stalls looking for work. Seeing if anyone had any errands they needed running. I haven't had much luck though."

"Times are hard," Egina agreed. She looked hard at the young man not liking how pale he looked – although some colour seemed to be returning to him as they spoke. "There's lots in the city that are starving."

She watched the lad tense. Ah, so that was what was wrong. She had managed to push pieces of cheese on the young man before as gifts but somehow she knew that if she tried that this time he would refuse; would view it as charity. She could almost feel the desperation in him warring with his pride. Besides, even if she gave him some food now there was still the two friends he was usually with. It was likely that they were all in the same position. Well she might not be able to feed them directly but there was certainly something she could do – not a lot to be sure but at least it would be better than nothing.

"As it happens I have a couple of errands that I need running lad," she said briskly. "I can't leave the stall at the moment so I could use your help. I won't be able to pay you much but it might at least keep the wolf from the door."

Much to Egina's confusion Jason couldn't help but blush at the mention of a wolf, remembering what had happened the last time he and his friends had run out of money.

"That would be great," he said. "It's Jason by the way… my name I mean."

Egina smiled.

"Well Jason," she said, "I have two jugs of milk that will need delivering to Glauce over by the Thálassas Gate. You won't be able to miss her house. It has all sort of pans hanging up outside it. Glauce is almost blind now and doesn't venture far from home, poor thing, but she says that the clanking of the pans help her to know when someone is coming to visit. After that I need you to take these cheeses to Abantes. He's one of the city guards and right now he should be patrolling the wall above the Telapius Gate. Normally he can wait for his order until after he has come off duty but I gather that it's his daughter's birthday and his wife has insisted that he goes straight home. She's a formidable woman, Abantes' wife – I certainly wouldn't like to argue with her – and neither does he apparently. I'll pay you for the errands now to save you having to come back here afterwards. You come to me for milk and, even if you didn't I know you have to pass my stall most days, so I know that you won't cheat me – not that I think you would anyway. I'm usually a pretty good judge of character."

Jason looked down at the handful of coins Egina had thrust at him. It would be enough to feed the three of them for nearly a week if they were careful and his calculations were correct. It was certainly more than he had expected to get from running a couple of errands. His conscience pricked him.

"You're paying me too much," he protested.

"Nonsense," Egina declared. "You're going to be doing me a big favour. Now here are the jugs and the cheeses, so get along with you. And don't let me see you back here until you've got some food inside you," she added with a significant glare.

Jason chuckled to himself as he trotted off to run the errands for the motherly woman. Egina it seemed was quite a force to be reckoned with herself and frighteningly perceptive.

Later, as he made his way back along the city walls he reflected on the errands that the milk seller had employed him for. Glauce had been a sweet old lady, riddled with what he guessed was probably arthritis and, as Egina had said, nearly blind. He had never had a grandmother but Glauce was everything he had ever imagined a grandmother might be like – she seemed to come straight out of a fairy tale. He had found that she was almost desperate for company and had sat with her listening to her stories for the better part of an hour before he had had to wrench himself away to complete his other delivery, having promised to visit the old lady again sometime in the near future. Abantes, on the other hand, had been terse and largely uncommunicative, receiving his goods with a brief expression of thanks before returning to his duties.

Now Jason was more than ready to go home. The blackness that had been lurking at the edges of his vision had increased and dark spots danced across his eyes occasionally. This was not good, he decided as he swallowed down a wave of dizziness. Perhaps it would be a good idea to purchase a little bread on his way home and to eat as soon as he got there. He could always go out later to buy supplies for the house.

As he reached the steps that led down from the wall a voice calling his name made him pause and turn quickly. Gelo, Meriones' right hand man, was approaching along the wall and had called out in greeting. Jason raised his hand vaguely. As it turned out though turning so quickly had not been a good idea. The world tilted alarmingly around him and he lurched sideways, his feet scrabbling at the very edge of the steps. The blackness at the edges of his vision spread rapidly, blinding him and he heard a rushing sound in his ears that almost obliterated Gelo's anxious cry. Jason had the vague sensation of falling and his last conscious thought before blackness claimed him was that Hercules and Pythagoras were really not going to be happy about this. Then he knew no more.