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with his hand. “That’ll do. Oh, but do send over some food and drink for us, hmm?”
    The guards tramped out, grumbling. Salmoneus leaned back and stretched like a panther. “Now this is the life.”
    Hercules lifted him to his feet. “In case you’ve forgotten,” he said quietly, “we’re here to stop a war.”
    Salmoneus carefully peeled Hercules’ fingers from his shoulders. “Herc, relax. I know that. But no one says we can’t enjoy ourselves as we go. Besides, these people aren’t warlike.”
    â€œI know,” Hercules said quietly. In even lower tones, he added, “That king of theirs couldn’t fight a war even if you gave him Zeus’ lightning bolts to wield.” He sat on the floor. “I think he and his people are going to get slaughtered. No pun intended. Ares has set the whole thing up to start a war.” He scratched the back of his neck thoughtfully. “He’ll sit on Olympus and just laugh as people die.”
    â€œHow do you know he’s behind this?” Salmoneus asked, pulling a green satin pillow under his head.
    â€œI don’t for certain,” Hercules admitted. “But the facts point to him. There’s only one way to stop him. We’ve got to tell the Mercantilians not to attack.”
    Salmoneus leaned forward. “How are we going to do that? In case you haven’t noticed, the only places to get out of this town are the corners between the walls, which is where those guards sit.”
    â€œI know,” Hercules whispered back. “Let’s work out a plan.” He arranged four pillows in a square on the floor. “Say these are the walls . . .”
    He glanced at the door-curtain and watched as a pair of sandalled feet marched back and forth. He continued planning in a voice so quiet that Salmoneus had to strain to hear.

Chapter 9
    There was no moon that night and clouds hid the stars. It was only an hour or so after sunset, but the city was already in pitch darkness.
    Inside the tent, dressed in his proper clothes, Hercules stood near the doorway, listening hard. He heard only footsteps crunching back and forth. Hercules glanced at Salmoneus, waiting on the other side of the doorway, and nodded. It was time to go.
    Hercules whipped the purple curtain aside—then let it go. The guard spun, drew his sword and watched the fabric swing quietly back and forth. Obviously, no one had left. Whoever had disturbed the curtain must have gone in.
    Tiptoeing so as not to alert the intruder, the guard, Stolidus, approached the doorway. As he pulled the curtain aside, a large hand grabbed his fingers and dragged him in. The curtain, still in his other hand, ripped loudly.
    In the darkness, the guard could not see who was grabbing him. He swung his club wildly. Salmoneus backed away and tripped over a pillow. He went tumbling backwards and cracked his head on the floor. He cursed.
    Follow that sound, Stolidus told himself. With a surge of strength, he wrenched himself free of the fist gripping his hand. He leapt and with his club shredded a pillow lying just between Salmoneus’ legs.
    Salmoneus screamed, then clapped his mouth shut. That was enough for Stolidus. He aimed his club at Salmoneus’ throat and lunged.
    The huge hand grabbed Stolidus around the chest and yanked him back. Another hand gave two quick chops to his neck and the guard sagged like a sack of potatoes. Only Hercules’ strong grip on his torso kept him from crashing to the floor.
    â€œYou all right, Salmoneus?” Hercules whispered as he pulled his friend to his feet.
    â€œMe? Sure. Wasn’t even scared,” Salmoneus lied. “Thanks.” He wiped hot sweat from his forehead.
    â€œCome on,” Hercules whispered. “We don’t have much time.”
    They slipped silently from their lodgings and stepped across the path. Although they could not see anyone watching them, Salmoneus winced