Storming Paradise by Rik Hoskin Page B

be wary of,” Hercules told her. “It is an insidious thing that drives men mad without their realizing.”
    Zosime nodded, accepting his words. “You’re a good man,” she said, “to say that. Most people wouldn’t care.”
    The days multiplied into weeks. Hercules and Iolaus became increasingly aware of the signs of the mysterious street party—missing people, empty houses, sorrow—and wherever they trekked they looked for them.
    The villages that had been affected seemed to be of a uniform size, no haul larger than one hundred people at a time, and they were spread across a group of islands in the Aegean Sea. Hercules and Iolaus passed through several villages of that size, and heard the occasional rumor of more disappearances. One time they came upon a hamlet that had been abandoned some weeks before, enough time for wolves to settle there in the absence of people, and to defend their territory when the two humans tried to pass through.
    â€œDisappearance upon disappearance,” Hercules said as he and Iolaus sat on an island beach after close to three weeks of searching. Above them, the late afternoon sun dawdled in the sky, searching for a place to retreat, while the gulls circled, crying for food. “And yet still, we are no closer to finding out why these streets have appeared, nor where they have departed to.”
    â€œI don’t know what else we can do,” Iolaus admitted, tossing a flat-bottomed stone across the water so that it skimmed over the waves. After three bounces, the stone sunk with a
plop.
    â€œIf only we could watch every village,” Hercules said, “but we’d need the fabled eyes of Argus for such a task.”
    â€œOr a lot of mirrors,” Iolaus suggested, half-joking.
    Hercules eyed the waves as they lapped at the shore, mulling over the dilemma. “There must be a way to watch every village,” he said. “We have identified the type of settlement, and the area within which our mystery street strikes. How hard can this be?”
    Iolaus pushed himself up, glancing up at the sun. “Face it: there isn’t,” he said. “Best we get moving before the sun sets and it starts to get cold.”
    Hercules nodded, rising from the sandy beach. Suddenly, he stopped, gazing out once more at the ocean and the distant islands that waited out there, dark bumps on the horizon. “There is a way, Iolaus!” he cried joyfully.
    â€œWhat? I mean . . . how?” Iolaus stuttered.
    â€œA boat!” Hercules told him, gesturing out at the waters. “We’ll scan from a boat, sail through the night if we need to.”
    â€œYou have rocks in your head,” Iolaus told him dismissively. “How are you going to visit every potential village—”
    â€œWe won’t have to,” Hercules assured him. “Sound carries. Right across the water, enough that we could hear that party from miles away.”
    â€œWe never heard it before,” Iolaus pointed out.
    â€œWe were on land before, not out at sea,” Hercules told him. “Listen—waves and a little breeze, but nothing more. It’s perfect.”
    â€œAnd you think we’re just going to hear this party?” Iolaus asked. He sounded doubtful.
    â€œI think we are going to do what we always do, old friend,” Hercules told him. “We are going to keep going and not give up. Agreed?”
    Iolaus shook his head regretfully. “Yeah, agreed, I guess,” he finally said, rolling his eyes.
    That evening, Hercules and Iolaus chartered passage on a boat owned by an old fisherman who proudly told them he was more at home on the water than on land. “I’ll sail you where you need sailing,” the captain said, “Get you wherever you need.”
    â€œAh, that may be a problem,” Hercules explained as he stepped down onto the ten-foot-long sail boat. “See, we don’t really know where