JOXER SAT on the steps in the blazing Sumerian sun, peering out into the brightly-lit plaza from under the cool dark flap of the burnoose. The crowds attending the audience milled about and spoke among themselves, while one by one the petitioners came up to the foot of the stairs and spoke to Suleiman, who then stood aside and allowed them to proceed to Nebula's throne. He watched it all today as if it was very far away, a picture on the side of a red-figure vase. He couldn't seem to concentrate on the farmer who'd lost his last cattle to lions, the second wife who had been passed over so that the third could receive preferential treatment, the merchant whose ship had been sunk in the harbor by sabotage. He was conscious only of the heat, the sun and the smell of the sea blowing in off the harbor, of the solidity of the stone underneath him and the brightness of the sky above. He was sitting on the step next to Nebula's throne, and he was very aware of her presence, her spicy scent, her deep rich voice, and the surprising gentle laugh with which she greeted each petitioner. And standing behind Nebula's throne and just in back of him was Gabrielle, and he was very aware of her presence, her smell of leather and sweat and chamomile, her slightly shifting movements, and her silence. Especially her silence. He didn't know what to say to her about the previous evening, if he should ignore it or apologize for it or thank her for it, and so he said nothing. And he sensed her holding back in the same fashion, and he couldn't concentrate on the petitioners. All was sun, and heat, and sea-soaked breeze, and Nebula, and Gabrielle.

He concentrated on picking out faces in the crowd. He still couldn't put names to a lot of them, but he could pick out the members of the higher-ranked families that stood to the front of the plaza and just off to the sides of the dais. There was Khalil, standing as close to the steps and with the same arrogance as if he were atop them, and nearby were some of Suleiman's kinfolk--the House of the Leopard, recognizable if nothing else by the grim solemn faces they always wore in contrast to the head of the Guard's easygoing manner. And those over there with the silver neckpieces were perhaps House of the Bull, if his theory was correct. He'd realized that the members of the different Houses always wore some identifying piece of clothing or ornament, but it was always something subtle; a single silver bangle amidst an armful of gold ones, like the Goat House wore, or the red edging on the wraps of the Fox House. The House of the Lion wore the trademark saffron, and when Joxer had asked Nebula about it she'd said only the monarch was allowed to wear the gold ornamentation along with the robes--but Khalil wore so much gold on his wrists and neck, glinting against his dark skin, that Joxer wondered how he could stand up straight. There were more and more members of the noble families attending the public audiences nowadays, and when Joxer had asked Xena what she'd thought of that she'd given him one of those strange looks and asked him how he knew. He'd explained about the badges of the different Houses and she'd given him another strange look, said "You're a very odd person, Joxer," and walked away. So he wasn't sure if he was in trouble with her or not, but then he never could tell with Xena.

The sun continued its slow progress across the sky, and it was nearing mid-afternoon. Nebula raised her hand in the formal silence gesture after the last petitioner left, and recited, "We will retire now, and return on the morrow, unless there is one who has something that will not wait until the sunrise." Nobody said anything to this ritual speech because no one ever did, and Nebula lowered her hand. And someone called out from the crowd, clearly and firmly, "Wait."

The crowd parted, murmuring about itself, and allowed a man to walk up to the base of the steps. He was with a beautiful woman--Nyosa!--and was wearing the same saffron and gold as Khalil. Joxer quickly glanced at Khalil, to make sure he wasn't imagining that there was someone else with the same nerve as to dress in the monarch's colors--and wished he hadn't. Khalil was looking, not at the man, but at Nyosa on his arm, and Joxer winced and turned away in sympathy at the look on Khalil's face. He hated it when things like that happened. So he looked down.

He didn't need to look at the man. He knew who he was.

The crowd was almost silent. The man walked arrogantly up to Suleiman, and said, "I am the Queen's cousin Hassim, and I wish to speak to her." He couldn't see Suleiman's face, but could hear the disdain in his voice as he said "Pass" and stepped aside. Hassim mounted the steps slowly, Nyosa keeping step with him, and he was smiling the whole time and his eyes were fixed on Nebula. Joxer saw Nebula watching the man's every movement, and behind him heard Gabrielle suck in a breath, a small unconscious gesture she made when faced with an enemy, and sensed her tensing as if she would explode. Joxer himself couldn't do anything. The sight of Hassim and the all-too-familiar sound of his voice raked cold claws up and down Joxer's spine and he could no longer move at all.

Hassim stopped in front of the throne, just far enough back so as not to violate the sacred space around the monarch, just far enough forward to make his disdain all the more evident. "Cousin," he said.

"Cousin," Nebula greeted him.

"Nyosa tells me that you retrieved my lost slave for me." He patted Nyosa's arm, then looked directly at Joxer. Joxer realized too late he was sitting at Nebula's feet, not standing on his own, and that he couldn't be at more of a disadvantage if he'd tried. "I thank you, cousin. I can get a good price for this one. The novelty factor, you know--or perhaps I'll keep it for myself." He turned an innocent look on Nebula. "Unless the Queen has already decided to do the same?"

"You admit this is your slave?" Nebula's voice had sharp steel in it, like one of the Sumerian blades.

"I do."

"And where did you get it from?"

"I picked it up in Egypt. Marvelous shopping there, in Egypt."

"And how did you transport it here?"

"Upon a ship, of course, cousin." Hassim smiled. "How else would I get it here? Cause it to fly?"

"Hassim of the House of the Lion," Nebula said and it wasn't steel in her voice after all, but the roar of the lion. "It is against Our law to use slave labor upon ships, or to transport slaves upon same, and yet you admit to this crime against Our desire?"

"I do."

The crowd--especially the nobles in their groups at the side--was silent. Joxer wasn't aware if he was breathing or not. Hassim was pinned, by Nebula's gaze, by Xena's, by Gab's, and yet he gave no evidence he cared for any of it. Nebula stood.

"For violating Our laws and circumventing Our desires, We hereby order you placed under arrest. Sentence will be delivered in open Court with all Houses present on the third day hence. Guard Suleiman," she said, "take this man away."

Suleiman started up the steps--and hesitated. He couldn't do it, Joxer realized--he couldn't lay his hands on a member of the royal family, the taboo was too ingrained. Nebula spoke again, and her voice was as scary as Xena's. "Guard Suleiman, do you disobey Our order?"

Suleiman shook his head slightly, as if he'd been asleep those few moments. "I...No, my Queen. I hear and obey." He came up the steps, took Nyosa's hand from Hassim's arm, then marched Hassim down off the steps and to the side of the plaza, where the building housing the main entrance to the dungeons was. The crowd parted as they went by, and the murmuring started. It started low, like the waves on the beach, and grew louder, surf pounding upon the sand. And through it all Hassim walked as if he was being led to a throne himself, his mien arrogant and triumphant, Nyosa following two steps behind the entire way, her smile a frightening thing. The entire procession passed Khalil, and Nyosa took no notice of him, and that look was on Khalil's face again, and Joxer wished he hadn't seen it. And Nebula stood up and said, "We now dismiss you, our people," and turned and walked back into the doors of the palace, the Guard falling in behind her, and the crowd did not disperse but grew larger and louder and the waves pounding--

"Joxer!" He shook his head, realizing this was the third or fourth summons, realizing he'd missed the first ones. "Joxer, come on, get up." Gabrielle grabbed him by one arm and hauled him to his feet. "Come on, we--" She hustled him ahead of her into the palace, the two of them the last ones inside before the large doors swung shut. Instead of following the group she brought him around and leaned him against the wall. "Are you okay?" she asked softly.

Joxer took a deep breath and another, great gulps of cool palace air, before he could answer. "Yeah, I'm fine. I think I got a little too much sun, is all."

"Are you sure?" Gabrielle laid the back of her hand against his cheek, and he knew she wasn't fooled. He also knew he couldn't admit it. Instead he nodded.

She pulled back a little, leaving him his dignity. "You should go back, get some water, and lie down until it wears off. I'll come by and look in on you later."

"I will," he said, avoiding her eyes. "Thanks."

She remained by him for a moment, then patted his shoulder awkwardly and left in the same direction Nebula and the rest of the Guard had gone. Joxer remained slumped against the wall a few more minutes, then started the long, slow trek back to their apartments. The sun still shone outside, and it pressed in through every window and every roofvent as if it wished to crush the entire palace under its glare.