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“I knew it.” Jaden whimpered. His voice shivered and skin went slightly pale. I could taste the fright at the back of my mouth. “My dream was right. All this crazy talk and I ended up being right!” "I'm sorry I kept it from you. But I think I am ready to tell you everything what's going on." I expressed as I collapsed my dagger back into my shadows. "Please believe me when I say that I've hid all of these to protect you." But Jaden just glared at me as if I was some sort of murderer. Maybe I was and I just don't know it. My best friend stormed to one of his drawers and pulled a small bottle and threw it at me. I caught it midair and checked what it was. In my hand was a glass bottle filled with meds. But there was no label on it. "What's this?" I asked. "Anti-depressants." Jaden stated dryly. His somber mood that he had shown lately all made sense. My body felt heavy at his sudden revelation. "I've been taking them lately because mom brought me to a therapist. I lost appetite but I had to keep eating even if I can't. It would be obvious if I started losing weight." "I don't know what to say." I told him. "Ever since that day when JJ provoked a fight in front of the school, I started to have nightmares. Then I was losing sleep. I could barely eat. School was already such a bum and this…thing even made it worse." He chuckled lightly. But I barely had the energy to laugh at the comment. "Sometimes, I just want to die. Sorry for not telling you." "Don't be." It was all I could tell him. Then I sat beside him and attempted to comfort him. But Jaden felt like a robot. His meds was really the reason why he was down lately. Aside from the fact that I forgot about his birthday. "That's why I'm here. Right? No one gets left behind. Ever." "If you really trust me, then let me know the whole story." Jaden taunted. And he said it with a straight face. My best friend was really serious about it. But I was reluctant if he could take it. "We need to both come clean. We promised each other back then that we wouldn't keep secrets. Ever." So, I did. I said everything. All the lies that I told him. Rei. Ven. Dark magic. Altimeraea. The short trip to the Citadel of Jeonnan. The boy prince. The sealing of his memories. The impeding attack in the Black Daze event. All of it. Everything except the deal with whatever is inside Morsus. His eyes widened as I described all the unfortunate things I had to deal with. But for some reason, I felt even worse that I lodged it all on him right after he let me know about his condition. I was being a selfish prick. "Craig is a mage, huh? No wonder he got to beat your ass in the arcade. He's a cheat." Jaden snickered. Then he looked at the wall and sighed. "I guess you're now Mr. High and Mighty. Or maybe Mr. Untouchable. You can no longer be bullied if you want to." "What are you talking about?" I asked him. "It means you're above us mere humans." Jaden replied sarcastically. There was just this pissed off tone from him that I couldn't figure out. "If you ask me to worship you, you're out of your mind. I'll beat you up like when we were kids whether you have powers or not." "What on earth would I do that? That's not funny!" I shot back. "I bet you wanted to show off on campus at some point." Jaden taunted even further. "You'll be the talk of the town. Or get kicked out. Or maybe you'll get to be famous or something." "Stop it!" I urged him. "I'm not that kind of person. You know me, Jaden." "Are you sure? All this time and you've been hiding who you really are from us. It's like I don't know you anymore." Jaden retorted as he stood up and walked frantically around his room. "Now it explains everything why you spend so much time with Craig. Now I get why you forgot my birthday. You were too busy enjoying your time in this other universe you speak of." "What's wrong with you? I was not enjoying that at all." I exclaimed. Jaden looked back. His blue eyes were intense. And he stared at me like I'm some kind of monster. "You're angry all of a sudden! That's not like you!" "You're out there playing hero and getting ready to rescue everyone while I'm nothing but a collateral damage of that incident. I even had my memories erased just so I would shut up! There's nothing heroic about that!" Jaden growled. "All this time I thought it was all me. But it's actually your fault I'm turning crazy! Now I even have meds!" "Please. Calm down, Jaden." I stood up to my feet and slowly approached him. I wanted to hug him. I wanted to comfort him. But both us were surprised when he lashed out and his fist connected to my jaw. I winced in pain as I stepped back. "I really am sorry for everything that happened." "Get out of my room." Jaden admonished harshly. "I don't want to see you." Then he looked away after seeing me held back my tears. His eyes glistened, too. I reluctantly obliged and slowly walked towards the door. Before I exited, I made sure to look back at him. "Are we still in good terms?" I asked bravely. It was a stupid question right after he jabbed my face. All of those hurtful words and I still had the audacity to ask him that. "I have to know." "Just get out of my room." Jaden urged me. His heated voice was turned into a mellow temperature of guilt and shame. "I just need time to think about all of this." I nodded at him and left. But as I closed his bedroom door, I couldn't help but sigh and rested my forehead on wooden thing. I slowly sat down and turned with my back against the door. Moments later, I felt some kind of weight on the other side. A person was leaning on it, too. A few seconds after and I could hear him crying his eyes out. I couldn't help but tear up, too. It felt like a sharp thorn was traveling inside the arteries of my thin chest. Every heave and moan from the other side was a bump of that thorn to an artery wall And it felt like a depressingly sharp prick. Sometimes, it even felt stuck. "I'm so sorry." His muffled voice said on the other end. He kept repeating it over and over again. "I'm so sorry, Chance. I'm so selfish!" Before I bawled my eyes out in their hallway, I decided to leave. Thankfully, Mrs. Parker was in her own room so it wasn't much of a hassle. I had to wipe my eyes a few times along the way. When I got home, I immediately washed my face so it wouldn't be obvious. I had dinner with my family after and it was a pretty normal evening. My limits were stretched as I had to pretend gracefully before them. I didn't want unnecessary questions. It would be too painful to answer them right away. After some small talk, I excused myself back to my room. I pulled my crap together and swallowed all the pain. Then next thing I did was to call Uncle Chase. His phone rang for half a minute before my uncle picked it up. [Hey, sport. How have you been?] Uncle Chase’ enthusiastic voice greeted me over the other end. I was not really expecting that he would actually answer back because he was the most busy people I know of. Sometimes, dad’s messages wouldn’t have a reply for over a week. [Have you seen the X-VIP Badges? Cool, huh? The VIP Badges for your friends are great. But nothing beats the X-VIP one.] [It is! It’s really awesome! Can’t thank you enough, Uncle Chase.] I greeted back at him. My uncle wasn’t the aloof type since he’d been my wisdom guru for years. It was always a wonder why he has not yet settled down. Celine and I had lost count how many women had swooned over him for the past decade. [I’m great! I’m great! I’m just really excited what’s going to happen a week from now.] [Listen, Chance, I don’t really have much time with the event being a week from now.] He replied with a bit more of a serious tone. I felt the stress in his voice and the deadlines behind it. Uncle Chase was your more-than-average kind of workaholic. [Cut to the chase. What’s really going on, Chance? Anything I could do to help?] [About that, I was just wondering if I could have another X-VIP Badge for my best friend.] I flatly stated. Then I winced on my end because of the silent reply from my Uncle. He cared a lot for our family. As I mentioned, he had spoiled me rotten since I was his only nephew. [I had to make it up to him because I forgot it was his birthday. And I couldn’t think of anything else.] [You’re talking about Jaden right?] My uncle clarified. [Yeah.] I replied sheepishly. The mention of his name caused my brain to show me a an image of his dejected face. It made my skin crawl that I indirectly caused it. It was the last thing I wanted. [He was really mad at me.] [I would have been mad if my own best friend forgot my own birthday.] My uncle pointed out. I cringed at myself because of how true that statement was. Uncle Chase was the kind of person that makes so many lifetime friends. He easily connected with a lot of different people all over the world and yet still have time for us. [That kid practically grew up with you. He’s your brother from another mother!] [I know! I know!] I hissed. I could imagine my uncle shaking his head on the other end. But I couldn’t blame him. He didn’t know the whole story. Yet I wonder if he was capable of understanding. [Don’t make it sound that bad, Uncle Chase!] [Well, it is that bad!] He pointed out. Disappointment strangled my ears. It felt like I let both my uncle and Jaden down. Both of them were alike, after all. Both of them were natural conversationalists that could get others to do their bidding. They capitalized on their strong charisma to bring out the best in others. [No wonder that kiddo is mad. He felt betrayed.] [Fine!] I snapped. Betrayal was such a hurtful word for me especially after Jaden learning the secret that I kept from him. That bottle of meds was the last thing I expected from Jaden. [But I really need help in making up to him. I promised him I’ll get him an X-VIP Badge. I’m sorry.] [And if I refused?] He asked a challenging question. The first thing I felt was the disappointment I was about to throw at Jaden’s face. It would be too much given his mental state. My fingers twitched at the sound of Uncle Chase’ query. [What are you going to do about it?] [Please!] I pleaded. My voice even broke from being under tension. I already broke one promise to Jaden. I absolutely couldn’t afford another broken promise. It would be too much for our friendship to take. There was just too much at stake on the following week’s events. [I’ll do anything!] [Hmm. Anything, huh?] My uncle hummed playfully. It was a reluctant dare from me and it would seem that I would regret it. Uncle Chase knew my flaws and weaknesses. But he was always merciful with me. Maybe not this time. [Why don’t you start with what was bothering you.] [But Uncle Chase, that’s too personal!] I lied abruptly. In a sense it was true since it was a personal thing that I wanted to protect my family and friends. And my Uncle Chase didn’t know that I also wanted to protect him. He would be surely there at the event either ways. [Sorry but that’s something I couldn’t admit.] [That’s new.] My uncle commented dryly. Then he played that cheerful hum out again as if he was taunting me. Although both my dad and Uncle Chase majored in the Business Sector, it was my uncle who had the knack on figuring out people. It was what made him a dangerous opponent in business. He always mentioned that he would have been a psychologist if our grandpa didn’t harshly egged them on to be businessmen. [You never kept a personal secret from me.] [Wait. That’s not fair!] I shot back. [What’s not fair is promising an X-VIP Badge to your best friend without letting me know first. That was a risky move. But I’m proud that you’re willing to bet on me. It makes me feel important.] My uncle chuckled in a matter-of-factly way. But it was true. And I hated that it’s true. [The X-VIP Badge is still a few thousand bucks because you get to have a chance to meet celebrities in the back stage. And that’s not really your money.] [Can’t it be anything else?] I pleaded again. [That’s absurd!] [You’re not really in a position to bargain.] Uncle Chase pointed out. My lips quivered. I wanted to retort and tell him how hard I’ve been working my ass off so his event would not be a disaster. But that was off the table. My uncle was still right in a sense. [You owe your best friend for letting him down. And you owe me for using my position to get back to your friend.] [You’re right. I guess I asked too much.] I responded sadly. [I just want to know what’s bothering you. Chance, I’ve known you since you were in diapers. Do you really think I wouldn’t notice?] Uncle Chase asked. The answers were in the edge of my tongue at that point. I trusted Uncle Chase deeply and I knew that he might give me an ounce of wisdom or something. The man met so much people all over the world but always welcomed their insights with much humility. [That’s a pretty cheap cost in exchange for a few thousand bucks if you ask me. You’re not really the type to keep secrets from me. Celine would be understandable. But not you.] [Fine.] I resigned. Then I slowly took a deep breathe. I could feel my uncle’s anticipation on the other end. [Do you believe in existence of other dimensions?] [Before that, open your Gmail account. Don’t ask. Quickly go to your room and lock the door.] Uncle Chase erupted. His voice went chilly and rigid. There was a strong tension in it. [Do it now and wait for my encrypted email.] The line was suddenly cut. I went for my door and locked it. A notification went off from my phone and I opened my email. It was an encrypted one coming from a person named CV. Chase Valentine. But those initials were also applicable to me, my dad and my sister. I tapped on the hyperlink and it started installing another app on my phone. FordTech, Inc. The FT logo was in front before the app opened to let me I see the UI. It was some sort of Social Media app wherein ‘Chase Valentine’ was the only listed friend on it. It was weird because the account was already listed under my name. Even the username’s credentials were the same as my other social media accounts. The app started to ring for a video conference and I answered the phone as I sat back on my bed. Much to my surprise, he dyed his hair blonde that complimented well with his gray eyes. He was almost a decade younger than our dad but they pretty much look alike. Except there was a small scar at the corner of his chin. As far as I could remember, my uncle got into a fist fight with some kids in the neighborhood and dad had to rescue him. They were really close despite their age gap. But he looked really haggard. Probably due to the incoming event. There must have been a whole lot of preparations for that. My grandparents would often call him the unexpected blessing to their family since they only wanted a single child. But indeed, he was a blessing to us. Since my parents married young, he was the middle man between my parents and I. And Celine, of course. [Sorry for the sudden change of communication lines. This is an encrypted channel so no one can eavesdrop on us. I’ve already given the task to my IT dude to erase all the digital foot prints of our previous call.] He started explaining. His vibes quickly shifted from empathic to diplomatic. It was quite confusing. [I also had to cancel my meeting later. It seems we have a lot to talk about.] [Wait, what’s going on?] I asked. My uncle’s face was grim. [You know something, don’t you?] I asked gravely. It was a stupid question. I knew that answer already. It was just hard to swallow. My jolly and carefree Uncle Chase knew about Altimeraea. [Impossible.] [Confirm the name of the other dimension first.] My uncle urged. [Altimeraea.] I said. My uncle went pale after what I said. I saw him covertly take a deep breath from the side of his mouth. [Have you been there, too?] [Yes. But a couple of times only, though. Moving forward, this looks like just as I feared, Chance.] Uncle Chase lamented. Then he rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he gazed in the camera. I just gulped at his bewildered response. [You’re also involved in that other dimension aren’t you? There’s just no going back after this.] I just nodded reluctantly. [Since when?] He asked again. [Within the past month, I started showing some signs of magic. I also got stronger as the weeks passed by.] I confessed right away. He already knew about Altimeraea anyway. [Then there were mages from that other dimension claiming that I have the soul of their friend. I was being protected from an organization called Teios Kyr. It seems they want to capture me.] [I’ll send covert guards all over your town.] My uncle said then started typing on his laptop. Probably a request for some private military protection. [Just to make sure you guys are all safe.] [But your event is being targeted by Teios Kyr!] I abruptly said. He was taken back by that. But so was I. Then I decided to press forward. My uncle has every right to know because he was the Project Head of the whole thing. [That’s why I missed Jaden’s birthday because I was cooperating with the people who would want [Don’t tell me that you’re planning to fight.] He muttered. But his face said it all. He didn’t want me to get involved. Just like everyone else. And it really hurt me because it felt like no one trusted me to be strong enough. Everyone saw me as someone to be protected. [Chance, that’s a very bad idea.] [Of course! These people and I will make sure to protect your event and take down anyone who wants to ruin it!] I lied. He didn’t need to know they these so-called friends wanted me to stay out of the way. And it was painful for me to lie to my uncle just to hype some kind of bravado. Truly pathetic. [I’ll do anything to protect my family and friends.] [Let the adults handle it.] Uncle Chase stated flatly. His eyes were filled with pity for me. And it angered me to see that. I wanted him to be proud that I was resolved to protect the ones I love. [Chance, I want to know the whole story.] I took a deep breath and started how I met Rei that one evening. It took me half an hour to lay down all the details of what happened. From the moment that we got cornered to the alleyway to my short trip to the Citadel of Jeonnan. And then I also had to include that Jaden had some sealed memories so that he wouldn’t be a target. But that was just a pathetic attempt. If the enemy knew that Jaden was a close friend, they would inevitably be targeted. Uncle Chase listened intently throughout the whole time. I was really thankful how intentional he was on letting me hear my side of things. But he kept a straight face most of the time. The only time he flinched was when I saw how broken Jaden was due to the mishap with the illusion mage. Plus, it was really exhausting to talk about the whole narration twice in a day. The only thing that I omitted in my narration was the mark that lingered invisibly on the palm of my hand. It was a horrid deal I was still considering. I wanted to protect everyone. But a deal with the devil was still off the table. The foretaste of that power should be enough to defend my friends. [That’s why I wanted to fight.] I said with conviction. Uncle Chase had his poker face on. And that only time I get to see that was during our card game nights whenever he would visit us. [The only way to protect everyone is to eliminate the enemy. But all I could do now is to protect people. Please, if you already know about this, help me.] [I will think this through. And I meant that. I just couldn’t accept at how fast you’re growing up. You’ll always be my baby nephew.] He replied with a smile. The mood was lighter again. [But fine, you got me. I’ll set an X-VIP Badge to be sent to your best friend. Just tell me his address so I know where to send it to.] [Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! You won’t regret this!] I exclaimed over the camera. My uncle just chuckled at how I was zapped back into a childish form of excitement. Then after a few seconds, I went serious. [But how did you know about Altimeraea? How much do you know? I don’t have anyone to talk to about this.] Uncle Chase raised his hand and emitted a ball of light in the center of it. The small thing started to morph into different sizes before vanishing into thin air. I couldn’t help but look like a little boy who opened his Christmas presents. [You’re one of us!] I shrieked. [Not quite. It’s the only thing I could do so it doesn’t really do much. It was something I discovered back when I was a teenager. ] He admitted. But for some reason it was something he felt shameful of. His attitude towards his abilities was kind of weird. [Your dad didn’t know though.] [Does it run through the family?] I asked. [It seems so. After years of tracking down our family tree, it seems that your great grandfather came from Altimeraea.] Uncle Chase explained. [Magic is in our blood. But by now there should be only faint hints.] [I also find it weird that you’re using a light-element magic. But the one I’m using is dark-element magic.] I said then I raised my hand. With a flick of my finger, a black dagger appeared out of thin air. But my uncle wasn’t really too impressed. He did mention that he had been to the other dimension before. I guess that would be a conversation for some other time. [With my avroi, I could quickly command my shadows to extend before compressing it until it turns into a solid state. But yours is a different one. Why?] [Looks like I need to keep researching our family tree then. I honestly don’t know why you have a different kind of magic.] He replied heartily. Yet I could see it in his eyes he already wanted to discuss other matters. I had my dagger collapse back into my shadow. [About the incoming attack, what do you know?] [As far as our discussion went, Teios Kyr wanted to try some sort of new weapon and they need a lot of people.] I explained then went over again with how we came up with that idea. Prince Zein was a huge help on that one. [But this is what we had deduced. So, we really don’t know anything yet.] [It seems the rumors were true.] Uncle Chase thought loudly to himself. [It’s not yet too late. I would need to contact that man again and set up defense protocols for the event. I'm sure he would be happy to help.] [Rumors?] I asked. But at the back of my head, it gave me a peace of mind that my uncle would be giving us reinforcements. Although I couldn't help but wonder if technology could keep up with magic. [Yeah. The reason why I partnered with FordTech is because there is a certain man inside that also knows about the other dimension. He mentioned that the event might call unwanted attention.] Uncle Chase enlightened me with more details. The fact that he knew meant that he was prepared. But he said that they were also rumors so he was not too sure. [The only reason I prepared this event was to informally launch some of his new projects. That was our partnership. I’m kind of a marketing and event specialist for his company.] [If only I knew you were aware of Altimeraea, I would have told you right away about this.] I contemplated. [It's so hard to carry this secret alone. The only people who knew were the ones from the other side. But I don't have anyone close I could share the burden with.] [Anyway, it looks like I need to check my schedule again and set them in order.] He said as he started typing down on his laptop. Uncle Chase looked really pale already. Based on his heavy eyebags, the man was really busy. I couldn't help but be thankful that I was able to take hours from him. [You have to school tomorrow, right?] [Yeah.] I confirmed. [Thank you so much for the favor. Jaden would be so mind-blown that I got him the X-VIP Badge. Good night, Uncle Chase.] [By tomorrow morning, I'll have people around the house. Please keep that a secret for the meantime. Your dad wouldn't understand. And if it gets too dangerous, I'll snatch your whole family away from there. No complaints will be tolerated. Do you get me?] I just nodded reluctantly. He never really gave me a choice. I guess he was just trying to protect us in his own way. [It was nice catching up with you, sport. Good night.] Then the feed was cut off. For the rest of the night, I pondered over if that would be enough to win Jaden back. He was really shaken. It was really stupid of me to let him know about my powers. I cursed myself repeatedly but what's done is done. Stupidity really had its consequences. My mind would wander off if everything had a chance of going back to normal. Yet deep down, I knew the answer. I just couldn't accept it at all. The next day, I tried to act as normal as possible. Jaden was pretty shaken but I was happy that he didn't ignore me this time. Everyone else seemed to be pleased that Jaden forgave me. We tried to be civil to each other and showed some level of comfort like before. It was already lunchtime and we were on the way to the cafeteria. Since Ven tagged along, he also noticed the tension so I told him that I'll explain privately after school and I knew he would be upset if I told him that I outed my secret to Jaden. Because it threw all our efforts to protect him in vain. "So, how did you apologize to Jaden?" Dylan suddenly asked me in the open. I was caught off guard because I promised them that they will be getting X-VIP Badges but we only got them the normal VIP. They didn’t complain though since a VIP Badge is still a VIP Badge. All of them understood since they cost a few thousand bucks. Jaden was the only special case but they didn't know about it. "Did you bribe him or something." The tension was there and I didn't want to be obvious so I just shook at my head as I tried to make a legitimate excuse. I cussed at myself inside my head for not thinking about a good excuse in case something like this came up. My thoughts the night before was so busy in being hopefully heroic. The crashing reality was kicked out by my wishful thinking. "Well, Chance was a really good kiss ass!" Jaden suddenly butted in and put an affectionate arm around me. Then he pulled me in closer and acted as genuinely as possible. It was a nice save. "You might want to try his kiss ass skills one time!" "That's just gross Parker. What the hell is wrong with you?" Dylan chuckled and everyone laughed along. Then I playfully shoved Jaden back to show that we were really in good terms. I guess we really were. Jaden just didn't know how to deal with everything that came up. "Why would you use Chance as an ass-wipe?" "Nah. I'm lucky to have Chance." Jaden pointed out. "He's quite exceptional in being the butt of the joke this time. It's where he belongs." "I guess we can no longer deny that you don't know how to wipe your butt." I retorted back. Dylan and Anya snickered at the comment while Caitlyn was clearly disgusted. Meanwhile, everything flew over Ven's head. He didn't get it at all. "That's exactly why I need a kiss ass friend like you." Jaden shot back. Our banter kept going until we made it to the cafeteria. It was a good thing that Jaden was used to exchanging insults with me. And thankfully, everyone bought it. Except Caitlyn. She knew something was up. She just always knew. "What's going on with you and Parker?" She asked aggressively after she cornered me when I fell in line for our food. "I thought you already apologized?" "Hey, we're already in good terms with each other." I defended. But I knew she wouldn't buy that. Caitlyn had strong instincts when something was up. She was some sort of watch tower in the group. She always knew there was a screw up before the one who even did the screw up knew. "What's up with that accusation?" "Dylan and Anya might fall for it. But not me." She quipped firmly. Caitlyn was just utterly convinced that she was correct in her intuitive statement. "Something isn't right. I just know it." "Fine. But that's none of your business." I softly snapped at her. Yet Caitlyn didn't budge. She's like a tigress who already lunged at her prey. But mixing a truth with a lie can set her off course. "Heck, it's not even my business. Jaden will let us know when he's ready. But for now, I'm willing to wait for him deal with it. I can't force him to spit it out. That's just insensitive." She went silent. And that was I knew Caitlyn fell for it. I couldn't let any of our friends know my secret. But I would gladly give my all to defend them. My only problem was convincing Rei and the others that I could fight. Even worse, I also had to convince my uncle for that. "Sorry." It was all she could muster. And she really looked disheartened at the situation. "I'm just worried for him. He's not himself for that past week. The others just don't notice it like we do." "It's okay." I comforted her. "I'm just as worried as you are." After the last class, we all had to go home. To make things worse, Ven said he had to be somewhere. Then he whispered that there will be an emergency meeting that night so he needed to check out a few things. I felt the pressure of how the walk home would be. I had no choice. It was a stroll down with only Jaden. But I had to pull my crap together. He's my best friend and I shouldn't be pressured at all. Jaden and I started walking so I initiated small talk. It was a surprise that he played along. We talked about the lousy homework that our math teacher had to give us. Then we talked about that new slutty librarian that we kept on hearing about. We had a good laugh on that one. It felt natural despite the invisible elephant walking behind us. Everything was just slow. Every word was dragged out of my mouth. I wanted to keep telling him that I'm sorry but I was enjoying the fake normalcy that we had. I severely missed those moments. Because everything about Altimeraea just didn't exist during that walk home. And I would treasure that for years to come. "I'm sorry about last night.” I abruptly said with remorse. I couldn't even face him as we walked along the open street. The people that passed were faceless as I focused on making amends with Jaden. "Now I wish I never told you. You already have too much burden to carry. I wasn’t being fair." “I’m sorry for punching you.” Jaden replied with a small voice. Those were the few moments that he would use such a low tone. It was almost unnatural for him. My best friend barely had the intention to even look at me. “That was uncalled for. I think my meds mess up my mood at random moments. But that’s not an excuse.” “It’s okay.” I muttered flatly like a programmed robot. “I deserve that.” “Save the self-pity. It doesn’t suit you.” My best friend commented. Even his slightly thick eyebrows crossed themselves from frowning. “I’m very mad at you for not telling me everything right away. All that time, I was blaming myself. All that time, I thought I was crazy. Mom was worried sick. She had never seen me acted that way. Heck, I didn’t even know I was capable of acting that way! And each day was a drag because I don’t like anyone being worried for me!” Silence. Sheer silence. A minute passed and we just kept on walking. “Can you forgive me?” I asked him to break the ice. “You’re a jerk.” He snarled harshly. “Please, stop.” “Seriously. I want to be clear.” I pressed on. It was quite a stubborn move. But I really wanted to know. “Are we in good terms? You’re my only best friend and it’s hard for me if we’re not okay. It’s painful.” “Stop. Just stop, you insensitive fuck!” Jaden raised his voice. His hand already turned into a fist. “How dare you tell me that it’s hard for you but you never considered what I would have felt! You’re a big fucking moron, Valentine!” “I’ve kept you in the dark to protect you!” I shot back immediately. My tone level tried to catch up to his. But I knew that Jaden was just beyond hard-headed for his own sake. It was a defeated cause. Yet for some reason, I kept pressing on him even further. It was annoyingly stupid for my part. Just stupid. “Can you at least be a little grateful? Just a little. Can you do that? Huh?” “You know what? Let’s just stop or I might end up punching you.” He replied with a pang of dignity. And it simply provoked me even further. He acted maturely and that made me angry for some reason. “This is getting out of hand. If beating up your stupid ass to make you shut up I won’t hold myself back.” “Try me.” I taunted him and added a sarcastic flavor on my statement. His ears got red but Jaden just took a deep breathe. “You’ll regret it.” “That’s why I don’t think you deserve those powers.” Jaden argued back. I was caught off guard with that. “Deep inside you’re just a big bully.” I was flustered by that statement. But it rang true. I even stopped walking to reflect it upon myself. Jaden kept walking and left me. It took me a few seconds before I realized that he was further away. My best friend and I maintained that distance along with the deafening silence between us. It went on until he got back into his house and I simply passed by his door with a snobbish attitude. For that whole week, Jaden and I attempted to repair our friendship. Yet every single time, we just ended up fighting again. So we went for the silent treatment for days. It was a cold war between the two of us. But our ability to understand each other really got nowhere. We would still let our usual banter be displayed in front of friends to avoid suspicion. It was between Jaden and I and we didn’t want to involve anyone else from our friends. Even Ventus seemed to have bought it already. Except Caitlyn. She was annoyingly observant. Even Jaden had to assure her a few times. Yet in all those moments, Jaden was still aloof. Sadly, he really just hadn't fully forgiven me yet. That was understandable though since I placed him under so much pressure to keep an inter-dimensional secret. I would notice that some of his usual snarky comments were filled with bitterness and resentment. So, I had to let it pass more than a few times. There were even a few instances that he reverted back to that hateful self in his room. And I had to calm him down. I was the sponge to absorb that undealt emotion within him. It would always end up with him breaking down in front of me. It was really painful to watch. His mood would really go haywire at random times. It was some sort of bug on the brain and his usual programming would just go nuts. He had allowed me to kick him in the shin under the table to remind him to keep his cool. I had to do it more than a few times, too. Jaden said that he entrusted me to keep him in check so others wouldn't know. Of course, I was more than glad to help. I was driven by guilt, after all. But everything must come to an end. The first day of the Black Daze event started during the afternoon. The grounds would be open for more almost 72 hours straight. I'm not sure how my Uncle Chase did it and convinced the local government to have an event like that in our area. But since the event grounds were quite far from the residential areas, they were bound to give in. It was pretty secluded and some sort of special sound system were used so it wouldn't create so much noise. Most likely, it came from FordTech, Inc. It was in the middle of an open ground surrounded by thick trees. There was only two or three roads that allowed visitors to come. A couple of days before the actual event and we were already seeing some trucks that moved in to set it up. According to the mainstream media, it was a lowkey project that will be used to launched internationally if it fared well. And if things went really bad then it would be my uncle's head on the line. That morning, Rei gathered us in a small headquarters they had set up near the event grounds. I had to make a lousy excuse from my parents so I'd be able to attend the secret meeting. It took a while before they agreed and I had to use Jaden as a convenient excuse so they would let me go. However, Celine seemed to have picked up the blatant lie but decided to keep herself silent about it. All the events that had happened for the past month was about to converge and all I felt was the shaking of my muscles. Even my breathing was heavy and erratic because it was the first major fight that I would see myself to. Before, Ven had always been there to protect me. But not this time. The odds were against us. Rei mentioned that there would be no solid support. We were on our own defending the town. The last hope I had was what my uncle mentioned that there would be a lot of defense measures that will be used. But I was not too hopeful since he only had a week of preparation. Procuring powerful defense systems might be tricky. Plus, I never noticed anything dangerous in the moving trucks that moved into town for the past couple of days. Everyone I knew from Zidania was there. Nisroc, Chrystal and Evron were all present. Surprisingly, even Morsus was allowed to go. I had no idea what kind of leverage he had over Rei to force him to do that boy's bidding. There was a total of thirteen people in the huge room, including me. So there were twelve mages from Altimeraea and I had only met half of them: Rei, Ven, Morsus, Evron, Chrystal and Nisroc. The other half was unfamiliar. As I checked them out, some of them didn’t strike me as too friendly. The only one that looked approachable was the one with the blonde hair who seemed to be in his late teenage years. Despite the introductions, it still made me wonder how they were able to set up the headquarters so quickly. “We don’t really have time so let’s cut to the chase. This team was assembled during the last minute. And I was not able to bargain Estelle from the higher ups.” Rei initiated. The mention of Estelle’s name stirred something animalistic inside me. I wouldn’t ever forget what she did to Jaden. Her magic was useful, but his mental health was sacrificed. Everyone started to gather around the big room and took their respective spots. Some were sitting on a chair. The others were leaning on the wall. And then there was that dude who was gawking around in an aloof manner. “The operation starts in two hours and I don’t want any screw ups with our limited man power.” Limited was an understatement. I didn’t want to side with Rei but I was sure that he did what he can to call forth reinforcements. But that was pretty much every person that would help us. A team of thirteen were pretty small for a defense against an unknown enemy. To make things worse, there were only five in the Knights that were present. “You might want to introduce us first.” One of the women spoke up. She was like the other intense guy in terms of age except she looked more at ease. Her aura was very warm and Ven stirred in her direction. That’s when I noticed that they had the same shade of sandy blonde hair. Even the texture was the same. “It’s hard to keep up if we do not know each other.” “Fine.” Rei resigned. “You start.” Everyone started introducing themselves. The woman started on Rei’s cue and I was surprised to know that she was Ven’s aunt. Her name was Jezebeth and she had the same elemental forte as her nephew. After was the grim-faced man with the scar. His interesting trait was the scar on his face and the same intensity of dark hair and aura like Reizal. His name was Valafar and he was also Rei and Israfil’s uncle. The man was a former Captain in the Knights and had tons of experience. It was curious thing that he respected the chain of command despite Rei being younger and less experienced than he was. The other woman that was also had a blood relative was Aldria who was the older sister of Nisroc. They had the same brown hair, slightly lighter than Jaden’s but theirs were wild like a lion’s mane. Plus, there were long streaks of red splattered randomly in their hair. The last woman that I didn’t know was Elune Adelsia who had silvery blonde hair. She seemed timid and soft-spoken and her gray eyes was a mystery. The last couple of guys looked about Nisroc’s age. The one that leaned on the wall was bald and had tattoos in the side of his head. They were mysterious symbols that I’ve never seen before. His skin was really tan as if he sunbathed all day. His name was Rai’li Auris. Finally, the aloof blonde dude that looked the friendliest of them all was River Knightley. His light blonde hair and blue eyes looked like your typical cool kid in school. He also seemed to be excited to speak to me for some reason. One thing I hated about the introduction part was my turn because everyone’s eyes were on me. There were some low whispers but it was clear that I was Israfil’s chosen vessel. No one really created a wild All in all, every House of Zidania which represented each of their respective elemental magic was there. There was a variety of elemental mages present that could help us in different situations. Rei, Evron and Valafar were from the House of Vladimir. Nisroc and his sister, Aldria were from the House of Kaiser. Ventus and his aunt, Jezebeth, were from the House of Yeter’el. Rai’li was from the House of Azshara which focuses on the lightning element. Chrystal was from the House of Aquarii. And lastly, Elune Adelsia was from the House of Arathuria that uses light element magic. But I was impressed with the friendly guy, River Knightley. He was also a Rune Mage like Morsus, except he was already done with the Basic Course that Morsus mentioned before. That means he was able to study in all eight ancient Citadels of Solus Magus. It was truly a feat. The boy even whispered to me that River was already halfway through the Intermediate Course of his specialization. The boy had bet silently with me that River Knightley was the most powerful mage in the gathering. Based on Morsus’ already formidable skills despite lacking the last few years of his basic training, River could possibly a one man army. The second one next to him was probably Valafar Volaniss, Rei’s uncle. “There are six areas that needed to be taken care of. And I need you guys to take care of your responsibilities as much as possible.” Rei started. Then he sat on the chair with his dark poker face on as if he was about to start a fight. He took a deep breath and started explaining. “The Main Entrance area is at the south where the people would be pouring in. I doubt that the enemy would be making an entrance here but the goal is to protect people.” “Right.” The grim-faced man objected. Valafar was clearly the oldest in the group and looked to be battle-hardened. He was probably in his mid-40s. There was even a long scar on the side of his face. “I noticed that this team is insanely small to protect thousands of people.” “I will get to that later.” Rei affirmed. The other man backed off respectfully but I felt the tension between Rei and that guy. “Anyway, the Central Plaza will be in the middle area of the field while the Food Stall Area is in its east. The Concert-Grounds will be in the northeast while the Kiddie Grounds is in the west. Lastly, the Backstage and Luxury Area is in the far north.” “Rei and our team with River had already prepared a seal around the area for the past couple of days. Thanks to Knightley’s Abjuration Magic, we can enclose the space.” Evron started to speak in behalf of Rei. “Since Enchantments are also his field of expertise, we’re able to let any Tidian pass through the five-layer barrier. We just need to activate it in case the attack comes. It was a complicated spell but that would be our first line of defense.” “In short, once the attack starts, we just need to cause the crowd to run in all directions until they passed by the barriers. Any person capable if using magic will be trapped inside.” Rai’li pointed out. His light blue eyes were indeed electrifying after he made the point. Paired with his dark tan, it looked like his eyes were glowing. “But that means we’ll also be trapped. Correct?” “That’s right.” Rei replied dryly. “We’ll trap all of our enemies inside the barrier. If any opponent that gets out, River is assigned to eliminate them that’s why he was assigned in the Main Entrance Area.” “What about us?” Aldria asked. “You and Jezebeth will be placed in the Kiddie Grounds since Jezebeth’s magic isn’t designed for fatal blows. And your advanced fire-elemental Combustion Magic heavily relies on precision. Both of your damage control are needed to defend kids.” Rei explained. The two women just nodded along and looked thankful that their strengths were utilized. When he mentioned Combustion Magic, I just wondered how was that damage control. “Nisroc and Chrystal will be assigned to the Food Stall Area since both of them can easily eliminate any fires that will go up. That area is the most susceptible to being burned to the ground.” “Rei and I will be in the Backstage and Luxury Area in the far north of the whole event. Most of the VIPs will be there and since we focus on Sealing Magic, we can launch pre-emptive spells to undo any potential damage. High value targets are in that area and we can easily warp them out of range with our Shadow Flit.” Evron continued explaining. The guy was really Rei’s second-in-command and was well-versed with how Rei did things. “Since Valafar’s Dark Magic focuses on wide-area spells, he will be in the Central Plaza. He will also be focused in creating panic away from the center of the field. Lastly, Rai’li and Elune are arguably the fastest in terms of movement speed because of their respective elements. They will be assigned in the Concert Grounds area in the northeast where they utilize their element the most. Any questions?” Ven, Morsus and I weren’t included in the plan. My heart thumped madly inside my chest. For some reason, I already knew that it meant. I wanted to speak up but Elune raised her concern. “What’s our endgame?” She softly spoke. Her voice really soothed me but behind it, I could sense that she was a fierce warrior. “We can’t just defend blindly and not knowing when it will end.” “Good question.” Rei pointed out. “Once the enemy’s attack commences, I was able to set up an alarm with River that will call for reinforcements from Zidania. It would give us half an hour at most to defend as much as we can.” “Rei, River and I will also be hunting down the enemy’s commander once the coast is clear. Valafar is assigned in the Central Plaza because that’s the least populated area. Everyone will be flocking into their chosen areas.” Evron continued with an explanation. “He’ll also move into the northern area to substitute in our absence to protect high value targets. If anyone is free to move, you may also opt to move into the Tech Zone and the Rides Area since we do not have enough people to cover them right away.” “If there wouldn’t be much enemies in our area, I’ll move to the Rides Area right away.” Jezebeth interrupted. “My magic can easily protect those people who are in the rides. It will be “And I’ll move into the Tech Zone just in case.” Rai’li added. “I trust that you’ll do everything in your power to protect these people.” Rei acknowledged. Rai’li and Jezebeth just nodded back. “The plan is just a guideline. Move accordingly to the need of the battlefield.” “Don’t try to electrocute everyone though!” River playfully intervened. His mood was intensely light for a gathering for battle. “There will be a lot of kids in that area. We don’t want too much collateral damage. I am sure that that GAEA will beat us down for that.” “I’ve been here on Earth to study Technology. The only thing that I could do is to blast it with an EMP.” Rai’li shrugged it off casually. “You might want to learn a thing or two here.” “Sorry. I’m too busy studying for Eldric Finals.” River replied sheepishly. I could only conclude that they had met before. The blonde teenager was extremely charismatic. I also noticed that his a strand of hair was braided behind his left ear with some kind of small trinket that tied its end. “The only reason I’m here is because my father is gone. My little brothers are still busy studying. At least Skylar is finally in his Final Citadel this year.” “So, the Supreme Qirian Council really didn’t budge, huh? It wasn’t really new anymore.” Valafar lamented loudly. “Those old fools don’t know what they’re doing. Aleus didn’t die for this. Leo Knightley’s son is here with us because he’s still believes in the legitimate threat of Teios Kyr. And Romero’s son is still out there and missing for more than a decade.” “Trust me, uncle, I tried to ask more but they will not be convinced until they have solid proof.” Rei replied firmly. But I knew there was a sense of defeat behind that facade. The lack of support from their own government was astonishingly fatal to their morale. “As of now, an actual attack is all the proof they need to actually make a decision. The whole thing was based on scattered rumors and Chance’s intel.” Everyone suddenly looked at me. My concern was pushed into the surface. “All of you guys have roles to play.” I stated out of nowhere. My courage was there for a second. And I took the chance even if it was an absurdly absent-minded interjection. “But what about me?” Then Rei looked at me with dead eyes. My anger seethed as I tried with all of my power not to rush at him. I already knew what it meant. “Ven and Morsus will be your guardians for this mission. You’re going to Altimeraea.”

Here’s hoping this month’s issue proves as popular as the last one. We are back to one question for several authors but this month’s query is somewhat different from our usual fare. It does, however, dovetail nicely with Myr’s history of Gay Authors so many enjoyed in August. As usual, responses are in alphabetical order and posted as the respondent submitted them without editing. ҉ ҉ ҉ We are putting together a Gay Authors Time capsule. This capsule will be opened in 10 years. You have been asked to input your thoughts. What would you like to include in this time capsule? ҉ ҉ ҉ @AquariusGuy So I've given this a lot of thought. I would like to see the work of some of the older Author's who haven't written in a while to preserve their stories. The liking of DomLuka, NicolasJames8, Vlista, Afriendlyface and CJames. These are some of the Authors who have inspired me to write and I always enjoyed their stories. ҉ ҉ ҉ @Bill W Seeing this would be for Gay Authors, I would suggest articles about how the current administration was trying to push back against the LGBTQ community with their 'religious freedom' claims and remove them from guaranteed rights, such as employment, health care, etc., and that the Supreme Court had decided against some of it. I think any articles about the current situation for the LGBTQ community would be good, so in ten years we can see how much we've gained, or lost. If you're asking specifically for Gay Author related items, I'm not sure. The library should still be available by then, but possibly a memorial tribute to those who contributed to the site, but are no longer with us. This way in ten years new members can read about those we lost that helped to make GA great. ҉ ҉ ҉ @Brayon Hello GA! Today is Sunday, August 9, 2020, and I’m currently sitting at my desk and typing this message for the Time Capsule. First off, I want to say congrats on being around in 2030! I hope the community has continued to be a thriving place, for authors who want to tell a story beyond just erotica. I hope that everyone is finding the place inclusive still, and that any old hatreds have been settled. Life is too precious and short. Cherish every moment you have with friends, family, and each other. Aside from this letter, I’ve placing in the capsule some items that I feel would be a reminder for how crazy 2020 has been. 1. A Covid-19 test kit. 2. A Mail-in Ballot for the US 2020 Election Cycle. 3. A Facemask from Universal Studios during Pride Month. 4. A video archive of my online classes. Remember to break the rules of writing from time to time. It’ll make your story unique. Say yes to Infodumps, they are the bread and butter of certain genres. A good Infodump won’t read like an Infodump and will lay a foundation for the reader to engage with your world. Say yes to “Tell, Don’t Show.” Because sometimes, dogmatic adherence to “Show, Don’t Tell,” will bog down your story. Sum it up and move on. Bottom line, it’s your story, tell it like you want to. If this capsule is resealed, and buried for another ten years, then I hope the community at GA continues to thrive, and new stories and content is added. May you write your stories and continue to be kind to each other. Cherish each other. Thanks for listening, ҉ ҉ ҉ @CLJobe When this Time Capsule is opened, I'll not be here. I have lived my life trying to help those who have a hard life because of the ills of society. I write my stories illustrating some of the problems the gay community faces because of the bigotry and the lack of sympathy among those who could help. If you read any of my stories, I would hope the world is better than it is now, 2020. People care about everyone, gay or not, Love overcomes hate, and most of all gays are accepted as a normal human being. As much as you would like to live forever, it isn't going to happen. Leave you mark on this earth, love your neighbor, gay or not. ҉ ҉ ҉ @Mikiesboy Thanks for the question. My thoughts for a time capsule? The question is a broad one, but here some of the things I think about now that I hope for the future. § I hope GA is still around and offering a home to LGBT+ authors § It’s my hope that people are accepting of each other no matter, colour, race, sexual preference, or religion. I hope we see each other as brother and sister finally. § I hope we have learned from the past. It has much to teach those who bother to learn from it § I pray for a new breed of politician; one who believes in the People and their rights § I wish for a world where community and the good of all, not the individual, is what’s important, where more wealth and health are available to all. § And it’s a wish really, that we learn and respect all life on this planet. That we see that each life is worth living and it is not any one person’s place to snuff out another. § On a personal note, I hope my Husband and I are still around in 10 years. I hope my friends are also. ҉ ҉ ҉ @RichEisbrouch Just a reminder about how far we've come in the last seventy years and a hope we continue to make progress in the ten years between 2020 and 2030. Without younger people, and the increasing and casual acceptance of gay people since 1990, I'm not sure there would have been gay marriage. And without the people who started working for acceptance in 1950 and continued, maybe specifically in 1970 and the mid-1980s, I'm not sure there would have been the casually accepting young people from the '90s onward. And no matter how hard it sometimes seems, it's a lot easier to grow up gay in 2020 than it was any time earlier. So let's not forget that, and let's hope growing up gets increasingly easier. And thanks for asking. ҉ ҉ ҉ @Wayne Gray What a wild question! Okay, cool. A GA time-capsule. I'll approach it from this angle - what would I want GA to know in ten years about what is happening right now? To GA in the year, 2030. It's September of 2020 right now, and we are in the middle of an historic event. We're watching our governments struggle to control the COVID-19 pandemic. While that issue is important and worth talking about, it'll be in the history books by the time you read this. I'm sure those will do a much better job of explaining it than I. To that end, I wanted to talk about something that probably won't be nearly as discussed. That is the problem of disinformation in this time of ever-increasing connectivity. So what I'd like you to know about these times is that the need for critical thinking has never been higher. As more "information" becomes available, more of it is simply junk that has to be filtered out in order to understand what is really going on. COVID-19 has truly rammed that lesson home. Access to information is no guarantee from drawing the wrong conclusions. Be critical. Look at your sources. Think about what a source has to gain from earning your trust and belief. Because if we're dealing with this now, in 2020, then 2030 will prove even more of a minefield of misinformation and outright lies. ҉҉҉ That’s all for this month. Still hot in South Florida, and I’m still sitting naked beneath the AC vent as much as possible. I took the Harley out yesterday and, after an hour riding around, my arms and my face were screaming for relief. Even through the hair on my arm, the outline of my watch on the skin is more noticeable. My face’s also tanner. Once again, thanks for reading. Same GA channel, same GA time next month. As usual, I’m in the market for questions.

One query, why did they get a ferry? Wasn't Woolwich dockyard on the same side (south bank) of the Thames as Norbury?

We’re changing things up this month. Instead of one question being asked of several individuals, we’re back to one author one query. One being the operative word. @Myr was kind enough to provide a detailed response, so I’m featuring it by itself. Hope you enjoy it as much as I did. ҉҉҉ Why did you decide to start Gay Authors and how did you go about it? Also, how has it lived up to your expectations and how has it diverged from your original intent? ҉҉҉ Why did I decide to start Gay Authors and how did I go about it? At the time I started Gay Authors in 2002, the world for gay stories was a completely different place. There was no such thing as an ebook market yet. Kindle on Amazon didn't exist until 2007. At the time, there were a handful of sites out there that allowed people to post their works. Nifty was (and still is) the big kahuna for archives of posted works. Nifty accepted all stories (pretty much), but they tended to be heavily geared towards um... action. Plot in most Nifty stories was a bonus. There was a time, 1995-1998 or so, where I actually checked every story posted on Nifty across a number of categories I was interested in. I quickly started spotting authors that had plot with their action. Real character development, etc. That was a new thing really. Amazon had gay books, of course, but there were so few published in those days that I had pretty much every gay fantasy/gay sci-fi book that Amazon sold. Most of them weren't as good as some of the free gems on Nifty. So, understanding that background, I went about identifying and contacting authors of stories that had plot and character development. I approached them and said, I'll build a website where you can post your stuff so that you stand out more than getting drowned in the deluge on Nifty. Comicality signed on as did Bill W, and dkstories not long after. DomLuka and others followed. We started hosting in September 2002. By the time July 2003 rolled around, I decided to give IP.Board 1.1 a try and the forums were born. You'll notice that I'm member number 3. When I started the forums, the default first account was 1, of course, and called "Administrator". The name on the account now is "GA Staff" and it is used for our program/developer for the Stories software. Number 2 was a friend that has since passed away that helped me with testing the forums in the early days. Active posting and other things on the forums didn't really kick in until about 2004. In those early days, Hosted Authors would email me their stories and I'd do the web development. Most authors went this route. Some, like CJames, were given FTP accounts and allowed to roll their own. The more authors we got, the more work it was, of course. It didn't take long for me to want to find a way for authors to have a way to post on their own. I turned to eFiction, which was a stand alone free software package that allowed members to post stories. I also programmed, on my own, a Story Archive that allowed links to stories and a quick way to sort and find stories. This left us with 3 separate, competing systems, each with their own member system. It was a bit of a headache for a while. Eventually, and with spending some money, we got all three systems using the forums member database. But keeping eFiction and the forums working together was a nightmare. Enter our biggest software development action in our history... the creation of "GA.Stories" which was a spin on Invision software IP.Whatever (IP.Forums, IP.Blog, etc). This is where we went from Hosted Author websites, stories in eFiction by any author, and a separate list of linked stories to one Stories Archive to rule them all. It was December 2010 or so. This is why so many stories are posted at that date. We posted all the Hosted Authors stories in one go, and imported most of the stories in from eFiction. This was in the forum software version days of 3.X. We've kept that system since, though changing developers. The leap from 3.X to 4.X was sizable. But we're now in a position where the Stories Archive is a third party application in the Invision Community Software. So, some of the quirks of the Stories Archive are tied to how the forum software works. But all the benefits, like following, liking, notifications, etc are all because the Stories Archive is just part of the "Invision Community" software package. Those around at the times of the big change will remember the growing pains. The last major revision to the software was pretty smooth. We've got one coming up very soon that should be pretty smooth as well. (Stories works fine on the new forum software even without the update, minus some formatting) Has it lived up to my expectations? Has it diverged from my original intent? Yes it has and more. We've been going for 18 years now (almost). The world and technology has changed a LOT since then. Kindles, iPhones, tablets, smartphones in general, are all things now that weren't then. We have grown and adapted to new technology and have weathered the changes over the years. I've worked to keep us up-to-date and relevant as well as a safe port in the storm. While I'm pretty political, I've kept that out of Gay Authors for the most part. I'd rather Gay Authors just be. Everyone else can have an agenda. My agenda is "great stories people want to read." If you can write a story with a message that people enjoy reading and it stimulates thoughtful discussion, then great! We need less yelling and partisan BS. Live and Let Live was a great concept out of the free love 60s. Hell of a lot easier to have a happy life that way then looking over your shoulder afraid to be canceled for breathing wrong at any moment. I guess that probably explains my operating philosophy most and fits my original intent. I just want to read and enjoy stories. Perhaps have some inspired debates. I can't tell you how many hours I went back and forth with dkstories over his political take on something. It was quite enjoyable to have that exchange of ideas. But society is no longer in a place where that's even allowed. Hence my policy of no politics except in The Pit. Its purpose is to keep the divisiveness in an isolated place to allow everyone of all political stripes to enjoy the great stories our authors have shared with the world. I know people have commented on that in the past. The "if you are for free speech, why can't I post this here?" Well it is because you are deliberately antagonizing someone who has an opposing view. The Pit allows you to know what you are in for when you go in there. So, go read and let an author know that you enjoyed what you read. Let Gay Authors be your escape. And if your escape is riling people up, then hop into the Pit and have a go. =================== There you go. I probably meandered. I have not diverged from my original intent. Gay Authors is still about having quality stories I want to read posted in one spot and having a community support each other and enjoy the content. ҉҉҉ And there we are, a quick history of the site we all seem to enjoy. I mean, your reading this blog means you’re interested in what our authors have to say, now you have an idea of how we all came to share this cyberspace. Myr mentioned he’s member #3, to give you an idea of the amount of traffic this place has, I joined some seven years ago and my member number is 19841. I just looked at one of our newest members and we’re up over 36,000. Finally, here’s a link to something you might enjoy reading: https://gayauthors.org/anniversary/ That’s all for this month. At least in South Florida, August is horrible. Heat and humidity drive us indoors, and GA is a perfect companion for sitting naked on the couch with the AC blowing on you to cool you off. Ooops, is that overshare? Anyway, thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it, and we’ll see you back next month. In the meantime, send me some questions, dammit!

As I look again into my abyss, I wonder It is a question with no answer I can find I seek resolution from the depths I plunder By laying waste to the ruins of my mind I am not the first nor last to query thus And I fear all this is just a waste of time They tell me stop; its not worth the fuss Yet the search continues in spite of the climb There are no reasons for being to be found We are born and then it seems, wait to die Books and Gods offering purpose abound Though so far there’s nothing to which I can ally A weariness of life inside me grows I fear and desire the peace of endless dark Then the Fates share the beauty of the rose I find strength once more to tend the dampened spark Outside myself I look for purpose and belief I search for peace that mindfulness can bring Seeking happiness under weighty stones of grief Learning there is indeed, a time for everything _-_

I've been looking all over the place for information on how to create the promotional and visual story field that I see on some author's posts. The old way of including a story title and then linking the story to it works and that's the method I used recently. But, I believe, that's old-school. I know there was a thread dealing with my query but I can't find it. Would someone mind giving me a tutorial, please. Even a link to the original how-to would be great.

‘I feel like Scrooge with the Ghost of Christmas Past.’ ‘Sorry?’ The seraph looked puzzled. ‘You know, Dickens. When Scrooge was taken from scene to scene of his past life. Obviously English literature was not included in your background.’ ‘Obviously not. You’re making a metaphorical comment on your experiences?’ Henry sighed. ‘Something like that.’ He looked out on the mountainscape before them. With afternoon passing towards evening, he was feeling very cold indeed. His teeth began chattering and he trembled convulsively. ‘I hope you can find somewhere warm for the next hop.’ The seraph smiled. ‘That was my plan. But this one is difficult to calculate. Give me a moment.’ And he surprised Henry by frowning and telling off numbers on his fingers. Then he once again smiled. ‘Ready?’ Henry nodded, and this time the flash of light did not take him by surprise. They stood at a crumbling stone parapet. It was warm, and as Henry looked around, he at once recognised where he was, though it was not a place he had ever visited. They stood on the roof of the Al Aqsa mosque, the city of Jerusalem lying around them in the late-afternoon sunshine. Behind them, across the plateau of the Mount, was the golden Dome of the Rock. In front of them and below the mosque were the ancient Temple steps. To their left was the deep valley of Kidron. Beyond that – rising dark and littered with tombs and ancient churches – was the Mount of Olives. ‘This can’t be the same time as we left. It should be past midnight in Jerusalem.’ ‘That’s why it took a while to calculate. This is the past.’ ‘How far in the past?’ Henry cast his eyes round. There were men in Arab dress everywhere, but also many men in dark western suits, some wearing red, tasselled fezzes. It could not be that distant in time from his own day. Then Henry gasped. Some western soldiers – British – in khaki uniforms drove down the valley in three jeeps, weaving around a line of donkeys driven by boys. This had to be the 1940s, perhaps during the Second World War. Henry reflected that his parents were not yet twinkles in his grandparents’ eyes. He was entranced. Casablanca was one of his favourite old films. He took a while to drink the sight in. ‘Okay, why are we here?’ But the seraph was abstracted. ‘Do you think I need a name?’ ‘Sorry?’ ‘A name. The trouble is, names fix identities, and being unfixed is what we’re all about, beings such as I. Give me a name and I’ll be pinned down to a particular appearance. Take this body: it is attractive isn’t it?’ ‘Very.’ ‘And you’ve had sex with it, I believe.’ For some reason, Henry blushed. ‘No. Not exactly the version of it you’re wearing. But yes, I did have sex with the original Jed Scudamore, though in a very convoluted way, if you get my meaning.’ ‘I believe so. The story is familiar to me. But the point I’m pursuing is that if I am to fix myself in a name and a physical identity, I could not do better than borrow this one.’ ‘You might consult the real Jed first.’ ‘You think it's necessary?’ ‘Could you do it? Is it possible for you?’ The seraph evaded a reply. ‘I really believe that’s going too far.’ ‘Look. If you are to be an individual, perhaps it might be best to choose a form that is distinctly yours, unique to you. To be honest, I would find that much easier when communicating with you.’ ‘I do see your point. The problem I’m finding is that I can only copy forms. So far I've not created a new one. I begin to despair of my limits.’ The seraph appeared to withdraw into himself and concentrate. He put his head down. The Jed form literally crumbled into dust and fell to the ground in a cloud. Henry stared, feeling a little sick in the stomach. Then the dust under foot stirred and spun itself into a column, from which a new form coalesced and solidified. It was another boy, perfectly naked and of a beauty so awesome as to be painful to look at. It was as if Michelangelo's David had come to life. The boy grinned at Henry as he turned. ‘Too much?’ ‘Uh huh! That much perfection is inhuman.’ The features shifted slightly, though the body maintained its perfection, not least the thick, heavy penis being pushed upwards by the very large balls underneath. The boy’s hair was longer, blond and curly, the eyes a little more deep-set. The nose became less prominent, indeed slightly snubbed, and sprinkled with freckles that spilled out onto the cheeks. ‘How’s that?’ ‘Still beautiful, but much more human and cute.’ ‘Could you love a boy like me?’ ‘With ease.’ The seraph looked very pleased. Henry reflected that this was uncannily like shopping for a coat with a friend. ‘One thing.’ ‘Yes?’ ‘Clothes. There's no one to see us up here, but it is open to view.’ The seraph laughed. Then he was wearing an open-necked white shirt and long dust-coloured trousers. He had on old leather shoes without socks. ‘Better?’ ‘Only from one perspective.’ ‘That’s naughty, Henry. Now a name. Think of one for me. Isn’t that what humans do? Give names to those they love?’ ‘Who says I love you?’ The seraph pouted. ‘You have no reason to be hurtful.’ Henry felt a little churlish. ‘I’m sorry. You are growing on me. But it’s actually quite difficult, now I’m put on the spot.’ He glanced around. ‘I do have a thought. If you were to go up to the Holy Sepulchre over those roofs, you’d find what was supposed to be the burial place of Adam, the first man. Aren’t you the first man to be fashioned by a seraph? Why not be Adam?’ ‘Adam. The man. I, however, am anything but a man, even in this shape. Try again.' ‘This is hard. Just an ordinary name, or something Classical or biblical?’ ‘I’m happy to be guided by you, dear Henry.’ Henry pondered a name suitable for a celestial being. It was not easy. The ideas that flowed through his mind either sounded trite or pompous when applied to the smiling seraph waiting patiently for his verdict. Then the seraph laughed, seemingly tired of getting nowhere. ‘How does Brandon sound?’ ‘A little unlikely, if the truth be told.’ ‘Tyler?’ ‘Much the same. Look, I do have a favourite name, and it’s sort of applicable. You know the story of Tobias and the angel?’ ‘Naturally, but the angel had no name.’ ‘Even so, I’ve always liked Tobias; it’s biblical and angelic, if only by association.’ The seraph beamed. ‘Then Tobias it is.’ It was rather touching to see the seraph-boy’s lips move as he tried out the name under his breath. Henry had to admit this celestial innocent was getting under his skin. He reached for Tobias’s hand, pulled him close and kissed him. Tobias allowed it. Though he was inept at returning the kiss, still his breath was clean and fresh, and Henry detected something of a charge to it. As Henry broke off he smiled at Tobias. ‘So tell me why we’re here.’ *** Davey and Phil were alert for the return of the expedition. Seeing the trio trudging back across the lawn, they realised by their friends’ tired demeanour that there was no good news to look forward to. Ed just shook his head at their anxious query about Henry. That didn't keep Max from fizzing over their encounter with Lije in the garden shed. ‘So there we were, and I was backing away from the – y’know – horrible, slavering monster thing and – bump! – walked right into the dead guy. Like, nearly pissed myself. But he was quite nice about it, apart from sorta slagging off Ed. Don’t know why he did that. Bit gratuitous, I thought.’ Davey took and squeezed his hand. ‘Gavin was there,’ Ed announced. Davey goggled, something only he could do elegantly. ‘You saw him?’ ‘No, but Lije said he was around the place saving our butts. And sure enough, a few minutes later the dog demon was gone and the bishop’s chaplain – of all people – was at the door, telling us to get out fast.’ Phil shook his head. ‘You seem to have been lucky to escape alive.’ Ed gave his friend a straight look. ‘Thanks for not saying I told you so. But I thought it was the only chance to save Henry. My heart overruled my head, something no professional soldier should ever allow. Still, Lije did have this to say: neither he nor Gavin knew who might have taken Henry. It’s a mystery even to them. At least it wasn’t the bishop.’ Eddie slumped on the sofa. ‘What now?’ ‘Get us some stiff drinks and we’ll sit and wait this one out. Wherever my baby is, he’s on his own.’ *** ‘It’s remarkable how much human history has concentrated itself in this small mountain city,’ Tobias the seraph observed. ‘Did you watch it happen?’ ‘No, as I told you, I and my kind are not creatures of this universe. We belong outside it. But still, I do know a few things.’ ‘The angelic grapevine?’ Tobias smiled. ‘Something like that. I suppose we must get on, despite it’s being so pleasant up here with you, dear Henry.’ ‘Obviously. Over there is where the Second Coming is supposed to happen, isn’t it?’ ‘Supposedly, according to one of your traditions. But that was never foretold, as I understand it.’ ‘And on the Temple Mount down there, the Antichrist is supposed to set up his throne and declare himself God and ruler of the whole earth.’ ‘I believe that was said, long ago. Though how these things may come to pass is not as straightforward as you might imagine.’ ‘Being what you are, Tobias, I believe you could destroy the Antichrist with just the power of your rather cute little finger.’ ‘Nice of you to have so much confidence in me, Henry. But I won’t do that.’ ‘Why not? What purpose does it serve to let that maniac run around hurting people and destroying lives?’ ‘Always needing to know the purpose behind everything. That’s so human. I can admire it, but the universe is not geared up to satisfy your intellectual itch. It’s too big and complicated for the combined brainpower of every single one of you to comprehend. Were I to do what you suggest, the world would be lost beyond any redemption.’ ‘Do you know that?’ ‘As good as. You might call it an unimpeachable source.’ ‘So Enoch and Elijah must be destroyed.’ ‘It is foretold.’ ‘And the Icon?’ ‘That too.’ ‘And then I must stand between the Antichrist and the completion of his dominion on earth? Me? Henry Robert Atwood, BA (Cranwell)?’ ‘Apparently. Someone must. That’s the scandal of particularity. And I’m sure you’ll do it very nicely. But that’s not my concern, any more than is the fate of this world.’ ‘Then what is the point of this ... parade?’ ‘Why Henry, it should be obvious by now.’ ‘Well it bleedin’ ain’t, Tobias!’ ‘Now you’re getting angry. I wish you wouldn’t; it has an unfortunate effect on this body. I get ...’ ‘Unhappy? Scared? Ashamed?’ ‘Is that what it is?’ Henry took a deep breath and calmed himself. ‘Let’s go for a walk. I’ve never been in Jerusalem, or in 1940 whatever-it-is for that matter. What is the date, by the way?’ ‘I have no idea. I’m not one for calendars.’ Henry took Tobias’s hand, and together they climbed down from the roof through a turret stair and side door. The flat spaces of the Temple Mount were full of strolling groups and beggars. The sight of two young western men holding hands as they walked drew no interest, apparently. ‘Do they see us?’ ‘Oh yes.’ And indeed Tobias’s looks drew attention. He was healthiness and beauty personified. They were jostled apart as they moved with the crowd down from the Western Wall of the Temple, where Orthodox Jews in gabardines and outlandish hats were nodding over prayer books at the Wailing Wall below them. Their path lay upwards through the city’s medieval streets, smelling dreadfully of sewage and rotting matter. Eventually they meandered into the lamp-lit arcades of a genuine Oriental suk. Traders eyed them and made bids to interest them in the wares on sale, although the British and Australian service personnel who were everywhere drew more commercial interest than Henry and Tobias. ‘This is wartime, I think,’ Henry observed. ‘There are too many troops around for it to be during the mandate after the war. Also, the Aussies wouldn’t be here after 1943. No, this must be the time when Rommel and the Afrika Korps are aiming to drive into Egypt and seize the Suez Canal.’ Tobias struggled to be politely interested, though it was clear he was indifferent to Henry’s historical commentary. They emerged suddenly into an open space at the top of the upward slope on which the suk was situated. When bells rang over rooftops, Henry recognised the sequence of the angelus. The sky was suffused now with the pink of early evening. The door leading into the Church of the Holy Sepulchre was still open, though they had to force their way through the beggars. Inside it was suddenly dark and cool. ‘So was this truly Golgotha, Tobias?’ ‘Yes, I believe so. The execution was held up there in fact.’ He pointed at a first-floor chapel, then indicated the interior of the church. ‘And around it was once a quarry outside the city gate. It was being converted into a garden cemetery on the road out of town ... Roman town-planning regulations, you know. It was thus a perfect site to execute a notorious dissident and religious troublemaker. The authorities commandeered one of the new tombs in which to bury his broken body promptly, that very one whose remains you can see in the rotunda.’ ‘You were there?’ ‘I’ve talked to colleagues. It was an event of some wider interest.’ ‘I can imagine. And three days later ...’ Tobias stood and brooded. He did not answer. Henry gazed around. A line of hooded Armenian monks passed solemnly by on their way into the church. A grey Franciscan was talking with animation to a group of westerners, one holding an antiquated (to Henry) box camera. Nearby a polished slab lying on the floor was being ladled with water by a crouching woman in a black dress. Henry nodded towards the woman. ‘What’s she doing?’ ‘I have no idea.’ A new voice at Henry’s ear caused him to jump. ‘Ah! You young fellows are English. I rather thought so.’ Henry turned. It was an Anglican parson: it had to be, Henry knew the type too well. He was in a clerical shirt and a white linen suit, a panama hat in his hand. ‘You asked about the stone. That’s the stone of deposition where Our Lord was laid out and prepared for burial after he was taken down from the cross. It’s perpetually washed with tears and water by devotees. It appeals to the papists. Oops! Sorry. You’re not Roman Catholic, are you? Tobias looked bemused. Henry took the lead. ‘Er, no ... fortunately for you.’ ‘Bit of an ass, sorry. What brings you two lads here?’ Henry was a slight, short young man even if he was in his mid-twenties, so he didn’t object to the description. Nonetheless, it was more appropriate to Tobias, who looked eighteen although he was probably older than the universe. ‘Er ... Toby’s dad’s around here somewhere,’ Henry explained, reflecting that might be said to be true enough. ‘I’m Henry.’ The vicar offered his hand, saying he was attached to the establishment of St George’s Cathedral and was supposed to be meeting a group from Cairo which had not yet materialised. He offered himself as a guide to the church. They declined, claiming Toby’s dad must have gone down into the city, where they’d pick up his car. As they emerged into the sunlight, Henry said, ‘So people can see us and interact with us, even in the past.’ ‘Toby? I thought I was Tobias.’ ‘It’s a shortening of the name. We do it for affection’s sake.’ ‘So you do like me!’ Henry grinned and hugged the boy-seraph’s arm. ‘Course I do, silly.’ Tobias nodded. ‘That means a lot to me, more than you could possibly know. I say, would you like to do the sex thing with me ...?’ The suggestion was made lightly, but Henry caught the smouldering burn in the long sideways glance that accompanied it. He was disconcerted, to say the least. ‘Now there, Toby, you’ve just learned the terrible temptation that goes along with the physical form. The rather handsome thing between your legs has a mind of its own with a direct line to your mouth.’ Tobias looked shocked, then more than a little dashed. ‘Oh! You’re right. I was thinking of nothing much and all of a sudden it occurred to me that you’re an attractive sort of person. The only thing I could think about was your neat little bottom, isn’t that strange? Then I wanted to be naked with you and the idea of putting my penis inside you was very tempting. Awkward business this being human, isn’t it? I have to say you let me down very delicately. I don’t feel too badly rejected ... though it does hurt a little.’ Henry had a guilty twinge, despite being unable to decide why he should have done. Turning down Tobias was a little like kicking a puppy. ‘I think the sooner you’re out of a physical body, the better it will be for you.’ Tobias nodded a little sadly. ‘Oh well, I suppose I had better get you back.’ ‘But you never told me why we’re here!’ ‘Oh, I thought it was obvious. The point is, Henry, you really had to know that you belong to my world now. You needed to get used to the idea. That was the opinion of the Great Council. Then there are the responsibilities of being what you are. You had to recognise them. I think you’ve made some steps towards that. So, where shall we go ...?’ *** By then it was way past midnight. A dozing Max was cuddled into Davey. Ed was gloomily sipping at a beer, his foot tapping with suppressed tension. Phil and Eddie were still in a subdued argument about the imagery Henry had observed in the interview with Bishop Jack. Davey gently disentangled from Max and went over to Ed, taking him round the shoulder and kissing him. The tension went from the bigger man and he sagged down on to his old friend. ‘Oh Davey, what am I to do?’ ‘Wait, sweetheart, just wait. The bishop hasn’t got Outfield, and that can only be good news. The question for me is where we wait for him.’ ‘You suppose he’ll turn up soon?’ ‘The longer he’s gone, the less sense it makes staying here. The fight’s going to be in Rothenia ultimately.’ ‘You up for this, Davey?’ ‘Absolutely. I still think back to those days in Strelzen when we were kids. I’ve never got the excitement out of my head. Now I’m ready for another crusade. Where do I sign up?’ Ed laughed and hugged Davey. ‘It wasn’t all happy, that time.’ Davey blushed. ‘You mean the Anton incident. Oh God, I still remember that and wince.’ ‘You were young and not in full control of your emotions. Besides, Anton was hot, dreamy and blond.’ ‘Still is.’ ‘You’ve seen him?’ ‘Yes, on my last stay in Strelzen. I was checking up on the Starcrossed boys, and doing a stint in Melmoth, and there he was on the other side of the bar, large as life. He remembered me too.’ ‘I’m hardly surprised.’ ‘We had a few drinks ... on the house, naturally. He’d followed my career. He said he’d been a fool to let me go that day, but he said it with a laugh. Of course, he might well say it, but if Terry hadn’t dragged me back to sanity, none of the rest would have happened. ‘He’s not settled, has Anton. Still cruising and still after the younger boys. It was a great evening and we’re going to meet up again next time I’m there.’ Ed was intrigued. ‘Are you thinking of reactivating that old romance?’ Davey shook his head. ‘While Anton is good material for a friend, I wouldn’t trust him as a lover.’ ‘You have grown, Davey. What about ...?’ ‘Max? He’s a fine lad and great fun to be with, but it’s a temporary thing. I’m the more experienced gay he had to meet so as to grow and discover himself. He’s special, but for someone else, I think.’ Davey looked fondly across at Max, boyishly innocent as he slept, feet up on the sofa, his curls across his face. ‘When did you get so wise, Davey boy?’ ‘Terry’s an education. You just watch and wonder. He’s more of an expert on the human condition than a faculty-full of psychologists. I love that man so much. We need him now.’ ‘That’s not so easy to arrange. Rudi tried, but he’s involved with something big and dangerous in Nicaragua, which is all I know. The alert’s out, though. I hope he’ll make the party in Strelzen.’ The sound of a muffled curse and the shattering of pottery came from outside the room. Eddie and Phil shut up in mid-dispute. Max woke with a shout. Ed was on his feet and at the door, Davey close behind. ‘Henry!’ Ed found his lover gathering up the pieces of a bowl he had managed to knock off a side table when he had steadied himself after reappearing in the hallway. ‘Sorry, Eddie, I ... mmff!’ The rest of what Henry had to say was muffled as he was picked up and surrounded by Ed. Once he was released he was passed around the group for hugs and kisses. Everyone returned to the lounge, Henry still enclosed and escorted by Ed’s bulk. Henry was settled on the sofa between Ed and Eddie Peacher. ‘Well, phew, I’m glad to be back.’ ‘But where have you been!’ Phil pleaded ‘I could do with a gin.’ Eddie grinned. ‘Bet you could. Anyone else ... hey! Where the fuck’s Max?’

It took a few moments for Max to realise something was wrong on the night-time Soho street, or more wrong than usual. He felt rather than saw Davey stiffen next to him. He observed Alan the bouncer frowning as he talked urgently into a mobile while his colleagues looked nervous – which in such fit and stocky men was perhaps the scariest thing. The remnants of the queue were being forced back on the door. A variety of men were doing the shoving, some shaven and tattooed, others dressed in biker gear. Max saw one very good-looking young man push back, then go down under a welter of kicks, punches and shouts. Alan led his men into the fray and pulled the bloodied boy out, hurling him behind them through the club door. Fighting was now general. A half brick sailed past Max’s head to splinter against a wall. Davey grabbed him by the arm and dragged him away. More and more of the gays fled down the street towards the distant lights of Leicester Square, the gang howling in pursuit. The road was full of running forms. Some of the thugs jumped up and over cars. There was the sound of a lot of breaking glass. Now Max and Davey were themselves running, and for their lives. A gay man was rugby-tackled beside Max and brought down by two of the attackers. Davey turned and kicked one of them in the head while Max pulled their victim to his feet. Unfortunately, the act of defiance gave the homophobes time to catch up with them. Now at last Max fully realised the trouble they were in. Five grinning men flanked and confronted them. One had a bicycle chain swinging in his hand. But Max’s attention was caught particularly by the man who was obviously their leader. He had on a dark leather coat, gleaming under the sodium lamps, and a pair of unnecessary sunglasses that made his square face anonymous. What particularly struck Max was the fixed snarl on his lips, the smile of a man without conscience, fear or mercy. The first blow took Max quite by surprise. He was knocked to the ground by the concussion of some sort of club on his shoulder. He felt the kick in his abdomen rather more. As he squirmed about trying to protect himself he saw Davey was also down. At least the man they had saved had been able to make his escape. Another kick span Max round and scraped his face across the oily tarmac. He struggled as hands pulled him up. ‘Now, you fucking perv, it’s time for yer to learn to keep off the streets where normal people walk. Yer boyfriend inn gonna recognise yer after this.’ The chain wielder was in front of him, slowly spinning his weapon, while two other thugs held Max to stop his desperate effort to break away. He heard the sound of police sirens in the distance, too far for him to believe they would arrive in time to be of any help. It was then, as he caught the eye of the leader who had a yelling Davey by the hair, that the uncanny sensation Max had felt in the club returned to him in far greater force. He looked beyond the struggling figures at the lights of the street stretching behind. They were flicking off at regular intervals, causing the darkness under them to approach at great speed. It seemed there was something in the blackness that was becoming denser the closer it came. The leader, suddenly awake to possible danger, spun to meet it. Now there was no doubt something very strange was happening. The cars on either side of the road rocked as whatever it was passed them by. Vehicle and shop alarms burst into life. Discarded plastic bags and street rubbish lifted into the air as if a tornado was whirling them up. The bicycle chain suddenly glowed white and its wielder screamed, dropping it on the tarmac. The men holding Max were jerked to one side and hurled into shop fronts. The thug with the chain, cursing and sobbing as he nursed his hand, was lifted away from Max to land with a thud against a car and fall unconscious to the ground. The fourth thug was running away as fast as he could. Only the leader stood his ground, not seeming to be particularly intimidated. He still held Davey by the hair with a knife at his throat, as if defying the darkness to approach. The blackness was now palpable and loomed up over the group like vast wings spread above them, almost to roof height. The alarms and even the city noise had been hushed. All was silent apart from a throbbing hum which seemed to vibrate the very air. The leader began crying out in a tongue Max did not understand, though it fell on his ears like a language of incantation echoing as if from ancient temples littered with skulls and reeking of spilled blood. A fierce wind came up the street from the other direction and beat on the darkness, driving it back as if it were a sea mist. It dwindled quickly to the shape of a slight young man – a rather familiar one too, if only Max could remember how that was – standing with his hands loose at his sides, his eyes glittering black as the street lights came up behind him. The leader cast Davey away with careless strength before advancing on the stranger. Max was seized with a sudden determination which seemed to come out of nowhere. He picked up the bicycle chain in front of him, gingerly at first, then more firmly as he felt only cool, greasy metal. He whirled and curled it hard round the neck of the leader. There was a huge, silent flash of blinding white light. When Max could see again, he found himself alone with Davey and their unconscious assailants. He picked up Davey and held on to him, suddenly sick with tension and aching all over his body. ‘You okay?’ he breathed. Davey leaned on him. ‘What the fuck was that? We need to get back to Covent Garden. Nowhere’s safe tonight. I gotta get hold of Henry and fucking fast!’ ‘Henry? What about the police?’ ‘Sweetheart, our beloved Met is gonna be no help here. Only Henry can deal with cosmic crap like this.’ *** Henry stared at his niece, who stared back at him. This little red-faced scrap of humanity was Caitlin Helen Nicola Atwood, which seemed an improbably long name for such a small being. He smiled down at her and was disconcerted to get no response. ‘She doesn’t find me cute. What’s wrong with her?’ ‘They don’t smile till, I dunno, two months.’ ‘You should know, you’re her dad.’ ‘You’re holding her wrong.’ ‘She’s not complaining.’ ‘Drop her and I’ll get mum to kill you.’ His brother was grinning. He was clearly delighted to be a father. All by himself he had fitted out the terraced house in Headingley with a beautiful child’s bedroom in which pink and ruffled linen were predominant motifs. Henry was astonished. He'd never suspected Ricky of having any practical talents, apart from an effortless ability to bum drinks without paying for them. Henry passed Caitlin on to Ed, who did the nursing and cooing thing disturbingly well for a professional soldier. ‘Look! She’s dropped off to sleep!’ he whispered. Ricky chuckled. ‘It’s no big deal. She’ll not do much more than sleep for the first month.’ ‘Damn, and here I was thinking I had a talent. Congratulations, Ricky, she’s beautiful.’ ‘Thanks, but Helen did all the work. My contribution was 9cc of you-know-what and a lot of sweat.’ Henry produced a digital camera and took endless shots while Ed passed Caitlin back to her father. ‘Is Mark coming up?’ Mark Peters was Helen’s brother and an old school friend, now doing something very profitable in the City. ‘He sent a huge bouquet and an embarrassingly large cheque. He told us to invest it for her to pay for ballet classes. But he claims he can’t get away.’ ‘Hah!’ Henry retorted. ‘Davey says he’s deeply entangled with his current girlfriend, apparently a stunning but highly possessive Lebanese doctor. Which reminds me ...’ Henry went through the back kitchen to the garden. He could hear Helen and his mother chatting and laughing in Caitlin’s room upstairs. His dad was visiting a clerical friend in the university theology department. When they had got on the seven-o’clock Leeds train from King’s Cross, Henry had switched off his mobile so he could get some sleep. Now it was time to re-connect with the world. There were a lot of missed calls and several texts. Most were from Davey, whom he had intended to ring anyway to find out the results of his night with Max Jamroziak. The return call was answered promptly. ‘Henry! Bloody hell! You okay?’ ‘Yeah. Fine. No problem, apart from the smell of baby sick hanging round me. What’s got your knickers twisted, mate?’ Henry paced the small patch of lawn while listening intently to his friend’s account of the previous night’s horrors. ‘And where’s Max now?’ ‘Still ... er, with me in the flat.’ ‘Did you and he ...?’ ‘He’s really cute, Henry. It’s fine, he knows it’s fun, nothing more. You think I should hang on to him?’ ‘The gang last night in Soho was attacking gays indiscriminately, but whatever protected you was there to save just you ... or Max. Why should that be? Did you see the boy at the heart of the cloud?’ ‘No. Max did, though, and said he looked familiar.’ ‘Did you get a description?’ ‘Yes, but it was vague. Do you think it was Lije ... or Gavin?’ ‘Or some other force ... maybe the one I met at the abbey of Medeln that took the shape of Jed Scudamore. But since Max recognised this one it may mean that what he saw is something new. Max had no connection with the earlier weirdness, yet suddenly he’s become a player, Davey.’ ‘I’d better get him some new clothes then ... is black leather butch enough for a cosmic supernatural adventurer?’ Henry had to laugh. ‘Are you free for a trip to Cranwell, Davey? I need you to bring Max and Phil too. We must hold a conference, at which we need Eddie’s input. Be there tomorrow and we’ll rendezvous at the King’s Cross at midday.’ ‘Gotcha, Henry.’ Henry closed his mobile and wandered around the garden in the morning sunshine for a while longer. He looked up at the neat little limestone house, hearing the laughter of his family. It was all so normal, while what he and his friends were facing was so very uncanny. He felt depressed, cold and lost. Why did these things come looking for him of all people? Sighing, he called up Phil’s number. He had troops to mobilise. Battle had been joined. *** Ed Cornish pulled the hire car off the M4 slip road on to the A411. The familiar signs began reading ‘Cranwell City Centre’. Ed was smiling to himself. ‘You’re looking forward to being back?’ ‘Absolutely, little babe. This place has so many brilliant memories for me. Good old Finkle Road. Don’t try to pretend those two years there weren’t among the happiest of our life together.’ ‘No, it was good. And at least the supernatural left me alone to get on with my degree in peace. Very considerate of it.’ ‘And working at the King’s ...’ ‘Yes, that was ... well, I can’t say wonderful, but certainly a different sort of education from the one the university was offering.’ ‘I don’t suppose it’ll be the same, now Frank has gone.’ ‘No. It’ll be friendly, warm and welcoming. But Davey had to get rid of him, and last I heard he was doing alright in Swindon.’ ‘Funny how exciting it is to be coming back. Hey! It’s the ring road and the malls. Remember making out in the Odeon?’ ‘Well, you did dare me.’ ‘Fancy another go at sex in the toilets with the main feature on?’ ‘What, now?’ Ed grinned. ‘Whatever happened to spontaneity, babe?’ ‘Well hell! We could still do it! It’s just we’ve got more important things at the moment: meetings to hold, a world to save ... that sort of thing.’ Henry checked his mobile. ‘Text from Phil. They’re just past Reading in Davey’s monster Audi coupe. Now I need to check in with Eddie.’ Henry made his call and discovered that Eddie Peacher was already on his second pint at the King’s. By the time Henry rang off, he and Ed were on the fringes of the city centre crossing the Avon bridge. It took quite a while to find a parking place, although eventually they discovered one at a multi-storey car park ironically not too far from the King’s Cross. It had taken them so long they found Davey already pulling his car into the slot reserved for the owner. There were quick hugs before Henry grabbed Max by the arm and began interrogating him as they entered the bar. Henry was so absorbed that the sudden burst of applause and cheering took him quite by surprise. The bar was full of grinning faces and shouts. ‘Ooh! In’ee grown up!’ ‘Still no sense of style!’ ‘Mine’s a Guinness, Henry!’ The regulars clearly still remembered him, and whether he wanted it or not, Henry got dragged off to the bar for handshakes and a big kiss and hug from his former colleague Will Thomas, the barman. A giant gin-and-tonic in a pint glass was pressed into his hand. It was a while before he could break away. Grinning, Davey went behind the bar and served the others. Henry eventually found his friends gathered round a table under a window, intently discussing what Max had to say. ‘Hey, dude!’ Henry was dragged into Eddie Peacher’s lap and kissed. ‘Missed your little butt. It’s been too long.’ ‘Will you stop confusing me and act the straight you are?’ Henry scolded, but through a smile. ‘Now tell me all about it, Max.’ ‘Okay, Henry. There was this big black cloud thingy that came up behind the dangerous guy and it sorta hurled bad guys everywhere before turning on the dangerous guy. It was sorta striking at him but he said some sorta spell thingy and a wind came from nowhere. Then the cloud got beaten back and all that was left was a kid with sorta shaggy hair and gleaming eyes. It was just like an anime.’ ‘Well, that’s very ... articulate,’ Henry commented dryly. ‘But you said you recognised him?’ ‘Yeah, but I can’t remember why. D’ya think my head’s been messed with?’ ‘No,’ smiled Phil. ‘You always talk like this.’ ‘Phil and Davey must have filled you in by now on all the previous adventures we’ve had with the unknown.’ ‘Christ, yeah! It was amazing. You’re like a computer-game hero!’ Henry looked at the artless admiration in Max’s eyes, feeling a blush rise in his cheeks. He knew precisely how unheroic he was. ‘So you’ve been told a little about the forces we’ve already encountered.’ ‘Yeah! Vindictive gay ghosts, spirits of vengeance, terrorists, criminal gangs and – my God! – the Holy Grail or something ... couldn’t work that one out.’ ‘I have to admit I didn’t have the full story,’ added Phil. Henry nodded. ‘And you’ll have heard of Enoch and Elijah. Now Eddie and Phil each have a picture they want you to look at. Phil, give him yours.’ Phil handed him the picture of Mark Tolmie taken from his gravestone portrait. Max stared at it. ‘Uh ... he looks kinda familiar.’ ‘Really!’ Henry sat up. Phil nodded. ‘That’s Elijah. He was hanging round in the corridor outside my office on campus while I was talking to you that day. You may have caught sight of him as you left.’ ‘No, I don’t think it was that.’ Henry was intent now. ‘Eddie, give him your picture.’ Max took one look at the picture and cried, ‘Hey! That’s Gavin!’ ‘Gavin!’ Henry stood up abruptly. ‘How do you know that name? How do you know him?’ ‘He was in the Union the same day I saw Phil. I bought him a drink and we talked for a long time, until ... yeah ... the Elijah guy came to take him away. He told me who he was. He was cute. I really fancied him.’ Henry stared. ‘Christ almighty! Looks like it was mutual. Was he the boy in the cloud?’ ‘Yes. I think it was him. In fact I’m sure of it. And he was in the club last night too. I caught sight of him between the dancers. Christ, I’m being stalked by an angel! Is he an angel?’ Henry sat down again with a sigh. ‘No, he was Gavin Price, a student at this place with me seven years ago. We worked in this very bar, and I loved him more than words can say.’ There was silence at this avowal. Ed was looking troubled. Henry’s hand searched for his and grasped it hard. ‘Gavin died in Rothenia so we all could live, except he didn’t die fully. He exists now between worlds, a bit like the Flying Dutchman maybe. ‘He touched something that isn’t meant to be touched by human hands. It destroys the evil who reach for it, but the good – and Gavin was an innocent, beautiful and courageous boy – it takes from the world to become, we think, somehow linked to it. Anyway, he’s never grown any older and has great power: he can cure the injured, raise the dead, and appear and disappear as and where he wishes. It now seems also that, if he chooses, he has the power to destroy.’ There was a sudden silence, with Eddie looking uneasily between Henry and Ed. Davey was considering Max with an unfathomable frown. Max himself looked stunned. Henry gathered himself. ‘Let me tell you the full story …’ *** It was four o’clock in the King’s Cross and drinks were still flowing, though such was the intensity of the war council in the corner of the bar that the alcohol seemed to be having little effect on the group. Ed was on mineral water anyway, since he was driving. Davey was drinking, as he would be staying on in Cranwell. He had taken a double room for himself and Max at the local Marriott, to which they would walk from the King’s. Phil was to stay with Eddie, whom he knew well from his academic work, friendship with Eddie’s brothers and a mutual acquaintance with Paul Oscott. After Max’s sensational revelation over Gavin and Henry's own explanation of their affair, Henry had subsided, letting Ed come to the fore in the meeting. He respected Ed’s skills in planning and prioritising. Ed was, after all, a gifted army field officer. He was currently summing up. ‘The one advantage we have over the forces of evil – I suppose I can call them that – is that we know their endgame. It’s to destroy the sacred image that Gavin and Lije draw their strength from. We also know where it is: Rothenia. Okay, Rothenia’s a big country, but its king is our ally and its resources are at our disposal.’ Phil frowned. ‘Admitting that, Ed, we still have no idea how the thing is guarded and if it can in any way be pinned down to an actual location. It’s defended as much against us as the Enemy. It won’t want to be found even by friends and will not allow us to approach it.’ ‘The point isn’t to approach it, but rather to get into a position where we can assist its custodian, our friend Gavin. He clearly still is our friend and that’s one reason to find him and it. The other of course is that, if the Icon is destroyed, very unpleasant things are sure to follow. ‘We can also deduce something about its purpose. It’s more than just a holy relic. It’s a mark set on the world so evil will have a difficult time making headway, especially in Rothenia. ‘Even with the ... er … Antichrist at large – God, did I say that? – Rothenia remains tranquil while his malign influence spreads through the rest of the world. The power of the icon gives Gavin and Lije some protection even here. Sooner or later, however, the Enemy will make his move, and then we must be in Rothenia, watching for the signs, ready to act in any way we can.’ ‘And what can we do?’ asked Davey. ‘Lije said there is power elsewhere in the world to combat him, and it lies in my Henry.’ Ed grinned. ‘Down to the gym for you, little babe.’ Henry smiled weakly back. ‘This is worse than the last time, when I only had to solve a riddle. This time I have to confront one of the supreme agents of evil in single combat.’ Ed sobered. ‘No one expects you to fight the thing alone. And Lije said you have power you weren't aware of.’ Davey hugged Henry round the neck. ‘So what’re you holding out on us, Henry?’ He shrugged. ‘It’s my cuteness. I’ll charm the bastard to death!’ Ed nodded. ‘And there’s the question of the bastard himself, this apostate bishop.’ It was Phil’s turn. ‘That’s why we’re in Cranwell. The information we had from the intelligence services points to a connection between the Bishop of Central Europe and this Bishop Jack. I’ve done what homework I can between Crockfords and the web. He seems to have an impeccable background: Wellington School, Cambridge and the Inner Temple. Then a sudden conversion and almost straight into the clergy. After turning the Brierley church into a huge success, he became a bishop in record time. He’s charismatic, media-friendly, articulate and highly intelligent. He’s a devoted husband and family man.’ Eddie Peacher smirked. ‘A designer clergyman.’ ‘What do you mean?’ ‘He’s too perfect. It’s as if someone sat down and invented him, dude.’ ‘Sorry?’ ‘I’m being existential.’ Henry nodded. ‘I know what Eddie means. It’s as if someone – or some thing – decided to write out a CV for the perfect bishop before settling down to live his life. He’s so real he has to be a fake. I wonder ...’ They all looked at him. ‘What?’ ‘This is crazy, but I wonder if whatever created him did actually go through the bother of living out the life of Bishop Jack, or just used its power to backload him into existence.’ Max was looking confused. Phil, on the other hand, was entranced. ‘Wow! Instant life! It just inserted the character of Bishop Jack into the world and everyone’s memories, then took up his career at the point in time when he would be most useful. God, that’s so ...’ ‘Fucking weird?’ Davey suggested. ‘Fiendishly clever, I’d say. What power it must have, at least power to deceive! When do you think Bishop Jack might really have come into existence, Eddie?’ ‘I’m thinking last year some time, when he began to appear at Downing Street, even the White House. That’s when conservative politicians and evangelical clergy found an agenda, and when the liberals walked out. He appears, and the Church collapses in schism and recrimination – that’s your apostate bishop at work, dude.’ Ed assumed control again. ‘Since we’re here, then, we'd better do something while we can. I suggest we scout out Bishop Jack in his own haunts. Lije told Phil he had deadly servants, at least one of whom Max and Davey seem to have met. While we will still have to be cautious, somehow I think we are not being detected as yet. We have allies we can’t see. Also remember that Max was able to help defeat the servant he confronted. They’re not invincible. ‘Lije and Gavin are still in Britain. I believe they’re putting out what power they have to screen and protect us, as Gavin did with Davey and Max last night.’ Henry looked grim. ‘Then I know what I must do.’ Ed’s eyebrow went up. ‘Not on your own, sweetheart.’ ‘You agree with me?’ ‘I couldn’t stop you, and I won’t try. Text Magda in Strelzen to set up a meeting for Eastnet with Bishop Jack. Henry Atwood, investigative journalist, wants to interview the next Archbishop of Canterbury.’ *** Fairview, Eddie Peacher’s home, lay in heavily wooded grounds in the north of the city of Cranwell. ‘Welcome to party central, dudes.’ ‘Okay, who keeps it tidy?’ ‘Well, since you weren’t available, Henry, I hired Mrs Atkinson’s niece, Tanya.’ ‘Niece? Is every Peacher house in Britain run by a member of the Atkinson clan? Andy has her sister-in-law; Richard Peacher her daughter, and you have her niece!’ ‘She’s amazing, dude. She has like this mystical power. Remember Mary Poppins? Garbage just leaps into drawers when she clicks her fingers. Also …’ They were interrupted by the woman herself. Once he caught sight of her, Henry had no trouble working out what the ‘also’ signified. Tanya wore a tight and elegant black dress, her blonde hair severely styled. Only the flat shoes prevented her from projecting the air of a model on a catwalk. Henry might have been gay, but like many such men he had a sensitivity to female beauty. After taking their coats she ushered them into a lounge where a large drinks tray was already laid out. Then she left them. Henry rounded on Eddie. ‘Bloody hell! Have you …?’ ‘I sorta tried, but she’s just too fucking professional. I'm afraid to push it or she’ll sue me for sexual harassment – or worse, sic her aunt on me.’ Ed was slumped on to a sofa in stitches by this time, his shoulders shaking and his breath coming in gasps. ‘Well, at least you’re beginning to recognise limits to your philandering,’ Henry reflected. ‘Nice pad by the way.’ ‘Yeah, it’s sorta big for just me and whoever my current lay is, but I like the space. Reminds me of our old place in Santa Barbara, which was also built in the twenties, although this one is Lutyens rather than Spanish Californian. There's a great gym in the basement, Ed, if you wanna work out.’ ‘Thanks, Eddie.’ ‘And with our present crisis in mind, guys, there is also this.’ Henry raised an eyebrow in query. ‘The bishop of Cranwell is my next-door neighbour.’ ‘You’re kidding!’ ‘No shit. He’s in one of the villas at the back there. You can see it through the window. The place with the green-tiled roof, very Arts and Crafts.’ Ed grinned. ‘Are you suggesting breaking and entering?’ ‘Nah! Well, only if you insist.’ Eddie looked hopeful. Henry shook his head. ‘Do you know anything about his domestic setup?’ ‘Nope, but Tanya talks to his wife at Waitrose. She says that while the youngest of the three daughters is still here, the older two are away at some private boarding school. There’s a cleaner who comes in three days a week, as well as a secretary and a chaplain with offices along from his grace of Cranwell on the top floor.’ ‘Tanya found this out for you?’ ‘Nah, she’s naturally nosy. She knew it already. I just had to ask.’ ‘Not unlike her aunt, is she?’ Phil looked uncomfortable. ‘This is weird. If, as you say, Bishop Jack is a projection into the universe of some outside force, a thing which has simply conjured up a life to insert itself into, what of his wife and his children? Are they projections too?’ Henry shrugged. ‘No. I would imagine they’re just logical consequences of his action. If he leaves the world and is erased from time, they’ll still exist, but as different people in other circumstances.’ ‘It fucks my head,’ mused Ed. ‘It totally fascinates me, dude,’ rejoined Eddie happily, ‘but then I’m an English literature grad student. We have only a fitful relationship with reality ourselves.’ Henry’s mobile sang to him. Checking it, he announced, ‘That’s Magda. She may be trying to be the Jewish mother I never had, but she’s also efficient. She’s had a provisional appointment by e-mail from the Cranwell diocesan press secretary. We’re on for Thursday afternoon at two. Who wants to come?’ Phil put up his hand. ‘And cop a look at the Antichrist? I wouldn’t miss it for the whole world!

Well excusssssse me Seriously, I need to apologize ahead of time. I've been on a wee bit of a vacation this past week and I wanted to take tonight off, so I can do some social distancing visiting with some friends. We will be 6 feet apart in his back yard with a fire pit between us. All of us are on the bit shy of meeting up, but as a group, we decided lets give this a try but practicing everything we can, which is a heck of a lot more that what I see others doing in the grocery stores So there apparently is a lack of people to do the wrap up this weekend 😮! Renee is relaxing by the lake on a post skool vacation, Cia is occupied, Graeme is a busy enchilada (I'm going to leave that as that is what my spell check put up :P). I should have asked either Reader, Dr.P, Talonrider or Gene to help out, but I left this to too late. I figured since the lights are out and the doors locked with only Myr minding the store, I wouldn't bother him The apology is that I'm running the story query about 6 hours ahead of time. So if you are a Premium, Classic, Signature or Promising Author and I miss you on the wrap up below, make sure you leave a post of what I forgot Really, we didn't have a lot go on this week with the GA Blog. Cia was in on Monday with the May CSR Discussion Day: Not fast forward to Friday, and we finish off the week by Wayne sharing some prompts. So how did y'all do on the goals this week? Well let me show you Oh, I nearly forgot , here is the words of the day that Myr keeps coming our way: Now before I continue writing more and more in a skimble-skamble way, shall we wrap this up? Anthologies Author Anthology Questionnaire - Click here to participate Anthology 101 - New in the Anthology Forum. Everything you need to know about GA Anthologies Blog Opportunities Ask An Author: Send your questions for your favorite authors to @Carlos Hazday (no questions = no Ask An Author) Guess the Author: Open to all GA authors. PM @Renee Stevens to participate Premium Updates: The Horse Thief by Laura S. Fox *Premium* Classic Updates: A Perfect Confluence of Events by Dabeagle Signature Updates: Black Widow by Mark Arbour; Book 16 of Chronicles Of An Academic Predator (CAP) If Only In My Dreams (Remixed) by Comicality Jessie-101: Online Celebrity by Comicality N'than by Mikiesboy *Complete* Northern Exposure by Mark Arbour; Book 8 of Bridgemont Phases of Moon by Mann Ramblings Unicorn Quests by Cia Don't forget.... Read, Write, and REVIEW!!!

As Dorian’s image appeared on the screens, a thin smile spread across Marshal’s face as he saw panic in Levi’s eyes. ****** “What was so urgent you called me in after closing time, Dorian?” He moved to take his usual seat. “It’s date night with Lance and Heather before seeing who moans the loudest.” “You will remain standing, Levi. It’s time we discuss something that’s been going on for years.” Dorian looked unusually serious, as he sat behind his desk with arms folded. “Excuse me? Remain standing?” He cocked his head, puzzled by his alpha’s demeanor. “What the fuck’s going on? You never act like this towards me?” “I’ll cut to the chase. I know about the silver nitrate poisoning.” “Poisoning? What are you talking about, Dorian?” His well tuned mask faltered for a moment, as he took a step back. “You’re not making any sense.” “The constant pain I was in, my aggressiveness and downright viciousness towards our neighbors, towards my former bear and avian friends, my being a downright asshole to people. The brutality I showed my own wolves during training. It was caused by silver nitrate in my system.” “I still don’t understand what you’re talking about. Are you saying someone’s been poisoning you?” Concern covered his face. “We both know I’m not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but I’m not stupid either. Well, maybe I am for not opening my eyes sooner and listening to what people were saying. Once I got it out of my system, I could see clearly what you’d been doing for years. What I stupidly allowed you to do with my stamp of approval. Pulling people loyal to the pack out of key positions and replacing them with ones devoted to you and your family.” Levi crossed his arms and stood his ground. “I replaced corrupt people with ones I could trust to do the job. We talked about each of those before the changes. You approved them all. Should I get the orders out of the file so you can see your signature?” “Yes, ones you could trust. Unfortunately, not people I or the pack as a whole could trust. You were always meticulous about presenting me with hard facts and letting me come to the decision you wanted. I’ve been watching things around here since the congress last year. I didn’t want to believe it when I figured out who was doing this to me. But there was no other conclusion I could reach.” He pounded his fist on the desk. “Goddamn it, Levi, you’ve been my best friend since we were pups. The fabricated documents, lies, and manipulative security briefings. Fuck, all those allies I attacked over your security briefings and urging to bring them into our pack for the good of all. Everything I’ve done that went against what I once believed in.” “Dorian, you can’t really think…” “CUT THE BULLSHIT, LEVI. I sent the fuckin’ cookies to a lab last year.” His eyes flashed with rage. “I know that’s why you never touched them. I also know your aunt falsified my lab results to say there was nothing in my blood. It’s the only way you could keep feeding me that poison in ever-increasing doses. “She and I had a long, private talk this morning. I’m sorry for your loss, she didn’t survive past giving her signed confession. I guess we could chalk that up to the aggression you and your mother caused. Pity I couldn’t get ahold of her for a little chat today and ask about her baking. Your dad didn’t know where she was. Don’t worry, I told a couple trackers and hunters loyal to me she is in danger. They’re trying to find her as we speak.” He leaned back and took a deep breath. “You killed my aunt? What have you done with my father?” Dorian ignored the man’s growling query. “As to your original question of why I called you in so late, this meeting is to tell you your services as beta are no longer needed. In other words, you’re fired. I’m giving you the option to walk out that door and leave the territory. If you do, no action will be taken against your family as they also quietly move away. That will include your dad’s release.” Dorian’s stony glare hardened even more. “Otherwise, we settle this in the challenge ring and I’ll drag your sorry ass there right now. You should put your affairs in order if you go that route. I suspect that cowering fur ball in your mind just pissed himself. “Right now, your family controls the pack’s finances thanks to the companies you’ve given them power over. The warriors and hunters back me, though I don’t know why with how I’ve treated them, so I’ve got the Army and Marines. If I hit send to a text on my phone, we’ll have a civil war before morning. My guys know how to fight. Has anyone in your family even killed a deer? I can’t remember you even catching a rabbit. Guessing you buy your meat from the butcher, when you’re not too busy sucking it.” Dorian smirked. “Let’s settle this like adults without involving innocent bystanders. You’ve lost, Levi. Accept my offer and leave.” Levi ran his hand through his hair, pacing around room. Shoving his hand into his pockets, the right one came to rest on something he always carried as insurance against a stronger wolf. He stepped to the bar behind Dorian’s desk and poured a good amount of whisky in the glass. Pulling out his phone, he tapped out a quick text. “From the sound of it, you’ve chosen the civil war option. I should probably kill you right now for what you’ve done.” Dorian kept his back to the man he once thought of as his friend. “But we both know with that text you sent, someone will be waiting outside. I doubt I’ll survive the walk to my truck before a silver bullet finds the back of my head. Even with the hunters, I won’t be able to defend myself from your entire family and allies before one of their mercenaries kill me. “I guess assassination is a family favorite of yours. Pushing Alpha Clark into a challenge to remove him. Trying to stab Alpha Wagner once Clark was dead but getting me instead. Shooting Randy and the leadership not sympathetic to your family. And finally, making your move to eliminate me once you’ve lost control of the situation. Each time a McKinney was hiding in the shadows to run things behind the scenes. And every time your family has ultimately failed to maintain control. Watching you all these years, I’ve learned your family plays the long game. I have too since I’ve had over a year to prepare for today and try to set some things right. By the way, I never intended to let you or your family live.” Levi took a gulp of the amber liquid and pulled the syringe from his pocked, as he rounded on his alpha. The needle found its mark at Dorian’s neck, and the beta pushed the plunger. Pain shot from the alpha’s neck to his leg as he felt a burning sensation spreading through his body. “Why, Levi? Why?” An indignant Levi watched as paralysis took Dorian’s body. “Why? You really want to know? Because you saved Alpha Wagner’s life.” “That was so long ago, and we’ve accomplished so much together since then. Wolves don’t attack the injured like that. I acted out of instinct the way my father taught me. All these years we’ve never actually been friends, have we?” “Spare me the wolves fight honorably speech. It’s bullshit and you know it. Doesn’t seem very honorable when a big, powerful alpha kills two grieving teenage pups and steals their uncle’s pack at a funeral. Or threatens to kill all the males in a family if they don’t join the pack. The consolation was that manipulating you was even easier than it was with Clark. He just got greedy and overstepped the authority my family granted him. Randy did well for the pack, but he wouldn’t bargain when he was approached, and threatened to expose the family. A bullet to the head works wonders in a negotiation. “You’re really a fuckin’ idiot, Dorian. Friends? Us?” Levi laughed hysterically. “You never figured I only kept you around as a bodyguard so the other low lifes like you didn’t mess with me? Well, that and you’ve got a great cock. Too bad the poison took some of the steel out of it.” Levi paced around the office as he continued his rant. “When you saved that man, you took away my family’s position in the pack. My uncle had a new alpha picked out and waiting to take control when Randy died from the stabbing, but he and my cousins were exiled because of what you did. You nearly destroyed my parents due to their apparent loyalty to Alpha Clark. We almost lost everything. You and your family, who were barely more than omegas before Randy took over, gained prominence when your bloodline wasn’t deserving. You don’t have the fur of a leader like my family.” He turned Dorian’s chair and leaned right into the man’s face. “Cannon fodder making it to captain of the hunters? What an insult to the Corps. I never imagined you’d become alpha after the family assassinated your beloved leader. It sucked that Marshal moved and survived the one meant for him. They didn’t know you’d be off duty that day. You should have been standing with Randy like you always did to accept the bullet we bought for you. It would have solved some early problems until I got you under control. You had to fuckin’ insist on handling the transition of power and do it by the book. Fuckin’ boy scout. You were never supposed to survive that challenge. Thad and Wade really fucked that night up for us by helping you. We had the surviving council in our pocket until you killed them. “It was hard to stomach you sitting behind this desk for so many years, but knowing I was the one pulling your strings made it bearable. In a way, it was a benefit to me. Anything bad that happened was the fault of the alpha’s orders since you had the final say in everything.” Levi moved away from the chair and laughed hard. “Fuck, Dorian, I had my hand so far up your ass making your mouth move, you’d think you were a Muppet. You never realized who was running the show each time we added territory, or I moved someone loyal to me into an important position.” Levi sat on the edge of the desk with a gleeful smile on his face, savoring his victory. “Yes, for years I’ve been giving you the poison to keep you in line. To manipulate the aggressiveness I caused, so you’d move against neighbors, giving my relatives territory to manage and exploit. I’ve had time to rebuild my family far beyond what we were. I didn’t lie when I said Mom always baked those cookies special, just for you. “If you’d stayed ignorant, I’d have let you live while I continued to run the pack. Maybe even allowed you to mate that bitch and suggest you move to her territory while I run things here. Since you know, there’s little point in keeping you alive. The one gold lining is seeing that hurt look in your eyes now.” Levi theatrically wiped a nonexistent tear from his eyes. “It’s time for me to take over as alpha. Not that I haven’t already been for years. To faithfully serve the people in memory of my dear best friend. And to show the McKinneys have always owned this pack.” Dorian was barely able to move his eyes as his body felt frozen. He managed to gaze at Levi’s face, seeing nothing but evil staring back at him. Levi’s back was to the camera. “In front of the pack, I’ll announce your family has been offered a home elsewhere to make a fresh start. Someplace they can be away from the sad memories of their lost son, brother, and uncle. Sadly, there’ll be a traffic accident during the move. Very soon, your bloodline will be extinct. Can’t risk one of them coming back for revenge if someone suspects I killed you. Tempting to see if your brothers fuck as good as you once did. Might still find out. Your little brother was always the hottest one in the family.” He shoved his hand into Dorian’s crotch. “I should have gotten you hard before the injection took hold. Taken one last ride.” Straddling the alpha’s legs he looked directly into the man’s eyes. ”Your sisters and nieces will survive long enough to provide some entertainment to a group of wolves who’ve been very supportive of my family. You know… Spoils of war and all that.” Alpha Jackman’s body stilled as the sound of his heart stopped. His eyes eerily remained open in a defiant glare. Levi moved off Dorian’s lap once he was satisfied the man was dead. He picked up the alpha’s cell phone and pocketed it to destroy later. He began searching the office as the shot on the screen changed. The timestamp at the bottom was highlighted to show a little over an hour had passed. Levi finally called 911. “Dorian’s not breathing. I need help now.” There was a momentary pause. “He feels cold. I think he’s dead.” The image faded to black.

The chamber door shut behind Willi as he left to meet the new day. Serge, roused by the sound, slumped back into the mattress as his mind recollected the previous day’s highs and lows, mostly the lows. He didn’t discount the possibility that Willi was up so early as a way of avoiding the consequences of yesterday’s wild moment. He sighed. Something would have to be said, much though Serge earnestly disliked confrontation with those he loved. He got up from the bed and found the water placed by young Jonas was already tepid. The page was remarkably good at entering a bedchamber with a heavy basin and depositing both it and the towels without disturbing its occupants. Karl invariably woke him when he did it. Sighing again, Serge ran through the day’s engagements in his head. There was a meeting of the prince’s council after the morning mass and breakfast, and following that he had planned to devote the afternoon to work on plans for the new house in the Wenzlerwald. But he found that for once the prospect palled. Willi was not at mass, so Serge concluded he was definitely hiding from him. As he was standing with the principal officers of the household behind the prince’s chair in the chapel he cast his glance to the left, and there amongst the other servants stood young Jonas. Again Serge was seized with a feeling of familiarity, and this morning for some reason it was very pressing on him. It was then he remembered where and when he had first seen Jonas. It had been nearly two years ago, and that same boy’s face had grinned across at him at a mass, a mass of St Michael in the Hofkapelle of Strelsau. It was at the point when Willi had sniggered and added the name of Satan to the litany. And there Jonas stood then, and here he stood now in Mittenheim. It was nearly two years ago, but the child was quite unchanged from what he was then, and that surely could not be. And yet it was. *** The stay in Mittenheim liberated Karl and Jonas from their routine household tasks, and so they had an unusual amount of daytime to themselves. They spent a lot of it with the horses, which Jonas enjoyed quite as much as Karl. Andreas, for his part, was fully engaged in his duties with his company of the Prinzengarde, and not to be distracted. His was the life company and, as the premier unit of the regiment, charged with the escort of the regimental ensign and the protection of the prince. Jonas said he quite admired Karl’s farrier skills. ‘You humans can be quite clever. I suppose you have to be, to make up for the lack of magic.’ He rattled through Karl’s treasured tool box. ‘Look at these implements. So neatly fashioned. I remember when your people made do with sticks and sharp rocks. But even then your ancestors could make some clever things out of just sticks and stone without any help from us, and not all of them were for killing each other. It’s what I tell the Council. But they don’t see what your minds can create, only the wars and the bloodshed, and so they ignore you as just an inconvenient consequence of Creation. But there are so many of you who want to be better than you are. That’s why I help when I can. The ones beyond the Final Sea know this too, obviously. And now they’re up to something.’ ‘So what can you do, Jonas?’ ‘Ahah!’ The elf tapped his nose, yet another of the human gestures he was acquiring. ‘One idea I have is that you humans can be helped by infecting you with magic. The way you’ve grown is obviously not right, and in your own way you’re trying to do something about it. You really do want to be more than you are: just look at the Conduit kids and how they stand by each other! So I’m exploring how far you can be pushed in that direction.’ ‘Wilchin,’ Karl said. ‘You deliberately made him a half-elf. It was the wings which were the thing, weren’t they.’ Jonas looked surprised. ‘I keep forgetting you have the clear sight. But you’re right. Wilchin’s proved that a few of you can be pushed out of your human condition into something else, under the right conditions and with the right help. The wings were indeed the thing, but we found he can’t sprout them in this world.’ ‘So you tried, then?’ Jonas grunted. ‘He brought back many gifts from Fäerie, but transformation isn’t one of them.’ ‘So he can trick people into seeing what he wants them to see, read their minds a bit, and speak all the languages under the sun. Not a bad haul for our Wilchin,’ Karl laughed. Jonas laughed along with him. ‘I’m happy with that for now. I’ll just have to be patient until I can figure out the next stage.’ ‘And how long will that take?’ ‘Who knows? Well ... you might. What does your clear sight say?’ ‘Er … what?’ ‘You’re probably the equal of Lady Fenice in power, if not in experience. She was given glimpses through windows into what’s to come. Stands to reason you might be too.’ ‘What do I do?’ ‘Just take my hand. After that, I don’t know. It’s not a power I have.’ So Karl took the elf’s hand. He closed his eyes. He tried to concentrate but it was not until he had decided the effort was hopeless and he relaxed that images leaped unbidden into his mind. It was no more than a flicker of pictures: Jonas in his underwater lair, being hilarious with three strange boys; Jonas in Fäerie sitting on a rock chatting with an odd-looking man in very strange clothes, and with a shock a final vision of a titanic winged and horned being bestriding a mountain peak, spear in hand, lightning blazing across a dark sky behind him. The shock of the last glimpse made his eyes shoot open. He hastily let go of the elf’s hand. ‘So what did you see?’ Jonas eagerly demanded. ‘You’ll get to play with real boys again in the years to come, but as for the rest, I dunno.’ Karl did his best to describe the mental pictures. ‘That last one may be the end result of what you’re starting here, Jonas,’ he concluded. ‘And it was scary.’ The elf brooded silently on Karl’s news for quite some while. *** ‘Hah! There you are!’ Serge finally encountered Willi skulking on the terrace at the rear of the Residenz. Willi looked in two minds about running for it, and Serge definitely saw him mouth ‘Oh shit’ to himself. Willi put his hands out in a gesture of apology. ‘Look, I’m sorry. Please don’t hit me ... though maybe I deserve it.’ ‘Never mind that.’ ‘What, really?’ ‘You’re not off the hook. But we’ll get back to it later. It’s the boy Jonas. We need to talk about him.’ ‘Why? What’s he done?’ ‘That’s worse than what you did? Nothing so ghastly. But he shouldn’t exist.’ Willi stared at him. ‘You what?’ Taking a deep breath, Serge explained. Willi looked blankly at him when he had finished. Finally he said ‘Have you got a temperature or something?’ ‘There has to be a logical explanation,’ Serge growled. Willi shrugged. ‘Maybe he’s a castrato. They grow up slower. So I’ve always understood.’ ‘He doesn’t sound like a castrato.’ ‘Easy enough to check,’ Willi giggled. ‘Jonas, drop your drawers, I want to see if you still have your balls.’ ‘I wondered how long it would take before you began trivialising the whole thing.’ ‘I’m not. Honestly. It’s just ... so unlike you. You realise you’re actually straying into the territory of the supernatural? You think Jonas isn’t a human boy, doesn’t age and isn’t bound by natural laws.’ ‘Have you ever seen him eat or drink? ‘Er ... I never go into the dietary practices of the servant class. I just assume they’re brutish.’ ‘Gaah! I need Jan Lisku.’ ‘Surely you’d best talk to Karl Wollherz, Phoebus. He did after all suggest you employ Jonas and claimed your supernatural child used to hang out at the Conduit.’ Serge shook his head. ‘It’s precisely because of that I can’t ask Karl ... or Andreas. They’re both involved in this somehow.’ ‘Now you’re worrying me.’ ‘Why?’ ‘All this. It’s so out of character. Whatever happened to the God of Reason you worship.’ Serge took off his hat and frowned skyward. ‘Damn it all to hell,’ he swore. ‘There may well be a reason for Jonas’s peculiarities. I just have to find it. Understand?’ ‘Yes dear, of course I do.’ Serge took him by the elbow and steered him down off the terrace and into the formal gardens. ‘Now let’s have that talk about your aberration yesterday in front of Mehmed. Do y’know the story of Kasimir Liszinski? No? He was a Polish nobleman and scholar who ill-advisedly speculated in writing as to whether God did or did not exist. Three or so years ago, his enemies found out about it and he ended up convicted of blasphemy and atheism, the penalty for which was to have his tongue ripped out and his hands burned off in front of his eyes, after which he was decapitated and his remains burned to ash.’ Willi looked ill. ‘Sorry,’ he said in a small voice. ‘Even the pope was sickened. My grandfather published a tract about the case, which got some notice in the Empire. Such things could very well happen in Ruritania, Willi. Every courtier has enemies, the Church here has its zealots, and you seem to have forgotten what a narrow path we walk. Your faith in human nature is touching, but trusting dangerous people like Mehmed could get us both killed. What possessed you, darling?’ ‘Oh ... y’know ... the madness of the moment. I just like being shocking, and Mehmed’s such a tempting target. Things have been going so well of late, maybe I’ve just got thinking that we’re untouchable: young, glamorous, talented, irresistible – that sort of thing.’ Serge laughed, and then, despite the risk of being observed, kissed the madman he had pledged his heart to. ‘I do love you darling. But we’re not untouchable.’ *** Prince Henry was determined to earn popularity in Mittenheim, not just for himself but for his dynasty. He was going about it with his usual thoroughness. The Dalmatian campaign had earned a good deal of glory for the Mittenheimer regiments he had raised, and of course the commissions available had offered new careers for young Mittenheimer aristocrats. As far as the people were concerned, the fortification of the city had improved local trade and offered employment, as had the continued presence of the prince in his ducal capital. ‘Being seen and being accessible’s the thing, Phoebus,’ he declared during Friday’s lever. ‘Is that right, my lord?’ He directed his query at Anton von Gerlitz, the Mittenheimer who was still occupying Serge’s old office of Second Groom of the Bedchamber. ‘Er ... yes, royal highness, it is ... er ... as you say,’ the man agreed with his usual hesitancy, but then his voice strengthened. ‘The people need to see their prince and, with all respect, your royal father was never seen here before he became king, or much after either.’ ‘Exactly, my dear Anton. So I will make it a practice to receive petitioners publicly on Fridays, as today is. So after breakfast, the good people of my duchy, whatever condition they may be, have been informed that they can approach me on the terrace of the Residenz and present me with their pleas and what not. Or rather, hand them to my chancellor as I smile benignly upon them. I expect my household to be there in force, mind.’ Serge however had no intention of witnessing the prince’s condescension to his devoted people. Having bowed the prince into his breakfast, Serge collared a passing page and asked him to find Jonas and tell him he was required by his master. Then he went off into the garden to pace the ash paths and think deeply about what he could say to the strange boy, and worry about what Willi had implied about his own mental condition. He thought he could guess what his grandfather would say about his suspicions, but as he explained to himself, he was only following where reason dictated, and was looking for more evidence to inform his ideas. That was rational, surely. ‘My lord?’ Jonas came trotting towards him from the direction of the stables. ‘Ah, Jonas,’ Serge began, feeling a sense of trepidation for some reason. ‘Do y’know, Master Jonas, I don’t know your surname.’ ‘Don’t have one, my lord. So the boys at the Conduit called me Jonas Niemand.’ ‘I wondered about that. Do you know much about your background? Your parents, what happened to them?’ The boy became undeniably shifty. ‘Er ... barely remember them, sir. My father may still be alive, but I don’t recall any mother.’ ‘So you grew up on the streets.’ ‘Yes, sir. Like so many others.’ ‘But you have had some education, I think.’ ‘Sir?’ ‘Your vocabulary and syntax are not those of other boys of your age and background.’ ‘Really sir?’ The boy’s eyes suddenly narrowed and his look became sharp. ‘And what might “syntax” be, sir?’ ‘You read, I notice, and you seem to have little difficulty in understanding French. When the Graf von Strelsau was somewhat in his cups on Wednesday evening, chattering away to the Graf von Speyer in that language, he called out loudly for plus de vin. I noticed you came to him at once with the flask and filled his glass.’ The boy looked momentarily disconcerted, but rallied. ‘He held up his glass, sir. I guessed what he meant.’ ‘Now tell me, Jonas. Did you ever serve in the Hofburg of Strelsau?’ ‘Your pardon, sir?’ ‘I just ask because on the feast of St Michael at the Hofkapelle nearly two years ago, I saw you amongst the servant boys in palace livery.’ ‘You must be mistaken, sir. It could not have been me. I was on the streets.’ ‘Not only was it you, child. It was a you unchanged from what you are now. How do you account for that?’ Jonas’s mouth hung open. He was grappling for a reply that was reluctant to appear. It was at this point that there came the sharp report of a pistol from the east terrace of the Residenz and an uproar of shouts broke out. Guardsmen ran past Serge through the garden towards the house. Serge hesitated, reluctant to end his interrogation of Jonas, but then followed the soldiers, telling the boy they would continue this later. As he reached the terrace he found a half dozen troopers of the Prinzengarde with drawn swords forming a ring around a stunned-looking Prince Henry, with a determined-looking Ensign Andreas Wittig standing over Anton von Gerlitz, flat on his back, the ensign’s sword at his throat. Courtiers were in a huddle to the left, chattering and appalled. The day’s petitioners were against a wall with muskets trained on them. ‘Damn it, let me through, you men,’ the prince commanded, seemingly having regained his composure. He walked over to Andreas and looked down at Anton, squeezed young Andreas’s shoulder, then called over Serge, who was let through by the guardsmen. ‘What’s happened here, sire? Did I hear a gunshot?’ ‘You did indeed, Phoebus. Young Von Gerlitz pulled a pistol and clapped it to my temple. I’m not sure what happened next, but apparently I’m still alive.’ ‘My God! Whatever possessed the fool?’ ‘That’s for you to discover, my lord Marshal. Attempts against the life of the prince and violence within the precincts of the court are in your jurisdiction. Now, Ensign Wittig, perhaps you can tell me exactly how it is I’m still alive’. The boy grinned. ‘Not too difficult, royal highness. I gets to recognise people acting odd round me. The uniform brings it out of them, and my lord von Gerlitz was in quite a state this morning, especially when I looked at him. He was edgy, with sweat on his brow, and after I noticed that I got very suspicious, especially when he began pushing his way to the front of the court when you began receiving them bills from the poor people. ‘I was in two minds about whether I could have him seized before he could try anything, since he is a lord and all. But he was too quick and had that pistol hidden in his cuff. Clever that. He whipped it out, but didn’t have a chance to get a fair shot at your head before I grabbed his arm and pulled it down, when it discharged into the ground. Then my lads were on him and knocked him down, so you’re still in the world, sire.’ ‘Is this the pistol, Andreas?’ Serge asked, picking up the gun in question from the pavement. ‘That’s the one, sir,’ the boy replied. ‘Very well. With your permission, sire. Andreas, escort my lord von Gerlitz to the North Citadel and have him placed in close custody. In the meantime I suggest that guards on the city gates and around the Residenz be doubled. All travellers in and out of the city must be closely interrogated. This may be a conspiracy, not merely the act of a lone assassin.’ *** Prince Henry did not seem particularly shaken by his close brush with death. He seemed more puzzled than anything else. ‘You see, Willi,’ he observed, as he and his retinue passed into the Residenz and sought the council chamber, ‘it was all just too quick, and then it was over. The surprise was in the identity of the would-be assassin. Anton von Gerlitz? Could you credit murder to a character that bemused and hesitant?’ ‘He didn’t exactly shine in his new role,’ Willi observed. ‘Whoever incited him to it didn’t choose a particularly sharp instrument.’ ‘I imagine it was his closeness to me rather than his aptitude for murder that brought him into the plot, for plot there is, I think. Hey-ho. Time to sort out that Wittig boy. He really does have a knack for being heroic as well as a capacity to be in the right place at just the right time. Have him brought to the council.’ So Andreas was called back from escorting Anton von Gerlitz to the Citadel and told to report to the prince. Knocking at the well-guarded door he was admitted and instructed to stand at the end of the council table opposite the prince, who surveyed the youth with some consideration from his chair. The boy was now man-height and a fine figure of a young soldier. After a long silence the prince began. ‘There on the table in front of you, Ensign Wittig, you will find a blue, gold fringed waist sash, which I ask you to assume, and also a silver gorget, which you will likewise assume. You know what they signify?’ The boy beamed. ‘Makes me a captain, royal highness.’ ‘Exactly so. You will have a company of your own in my Prinzengarde when one comes vacant. It’s the very least I can do for you after yet another signal service to the Crown, but besides that, it really is time to settle your affairs. Now then my lord marshal, is the boy literate yet?’ Serge rolled his eyes. ‘He can make out words with a bit of effort and sign his name, but I doubt he’ll ever read for pleasure.’ ‘You do have high standards, Serge. But for me that’ll do, as it fulfils one condition for what must happen next.’ ‘Sire?’ Andreas looked puzzled. ‘Andreas Wittig, your services in the field and in my household show that you have the physical qualities to shoulder the burden you must now assume, and as I have come to know you I have seen that you have the moral ones too. What you lack is what men call “blood”. Now I can by a simple impress of my seal on a patent declare that you are a nobleman, though that’s never enough for the world in general. I’ve been considering what to do with a young fellow of your quality since your exploits at Basovizza. So, some weeks ago I had my lord chancellor of Mittenheim investigate the present state of the nobility of this duchy, and he found that there is a baronial house of great respectability and lineage which has no heir, male or female, and so its estate will very soon revert to the Crown. ‘At my command and in consideration of certain favours regarding the disposal of his estate, the chancellor has come to an arrangement in my name with the Lord Baron of Bernenstein, a fine old gentleman in his seventies, that he will adopt you as heir to his estate and name, having been persuaded that you have already at the age of fifteen demonstrated more valour and nobility than most men do in an entire lifetime. Also the ransom for the Lord Mehmed has begun to come in, and you’ll easily be able to pay the entry fine which is owed for succession. You know what this means?’ ‘Er ... sire?’ ‘It means, that as of this day you will be Captain the Freiherr Wittig von Bernenstein, a noble gentleman of the duchy of Mittenheim. As an act of my grace as duke and in recognition for your repeated bravery, you may assume the red heels of the highest nobility. I suggest you talk this through with my lord Serge, as soon as you’ve regained control of your lower jaw. Now off you go and practice being arrogant and entitled, like all the other Freiherren of your age. Out, young man!’ Andreas stood a moment stunned, then delivered a very graceful bow, evidence of the effect residence in the princely court was having on him, and with a sidelong glance at Serge left the room. *** When Serge emerged from the council, a troubled man, he found Andreas still waiting for him. Serge’s mood lightened, and he grinned at the boy as he bowed and said, ‘Well my lord Von Bernenstein, I’m sorry to have kept you.’ ‘Oh please, sir. Pack it in.’ Serge took and held the boy’s hand. ‘You’ve earned it, Andreas, and for myself, I can’t think of anyone who deserves it more, though I am biased since you did save my life at Basovizza.’ ‘But what does it mean, sir?’ ‘Being noble?’ He shot the younger boy a mischievous look and added ‘I can recommend some books.’ ‘Not helpful, sir.’ ‘I suppose not. My experience, so far as it goes, is that you have to manage expectations. Noblemen have to have appropriate residences, they adopt the expensive fashions of the court, assemble a household and pay it lavishly. You’re a wealthy fellow, Captain von Bernenstein, and people will expect you to spend accordingly. You need to go and talk to Herr Simon Ashkenaz when we get back to Strelsau.’ ‘Master Lisku explains things better. Maybe he’ll consent to leave your service and become my domestic steward.’ Serge frowned. ‘Of course another thing we noblemen do is defend our honour by killing people who affront it. I could challenge you for trying to poach Jan from my household.’ Andreas gave a chuckling laugh in which the boy was still very much present. Serge deliberately took his arm to bring home to him the reality of his rank and the fact that he and Andreas now were equal before the world in standing. Then he walked him out of the Residenz and together they made for the Citadel. ‘You looked troubled, coming out from the council, sir,’ Andreas observed as they left the palace grounds. ‘I did? If so I had reason to be. Do you know the punishment for treason in Mittenheim?’ ‘Pretty horrible, I’d guess, sir. How can it be worse than Ruritania? The way they dealt with my lord von Strelsau’s father was pretty revolting.’ ‘Here they seem to have preserved the oldest and worst traditions. If Anton is found guilty, as he will be, he’ll have his balls cut off, the wound sealed with hot pitch, and be made to run naked up through the city streets at the tail of a cart to the cathedral square and there tortured publicly for as long as he can be kept conscious and screaming. The grand finale is to have his intestines removed slowly from his body on a wheel and, if he’s still alive, have what’s left of his manhood sliced off. Then his gutted body will be dismembered between four horses and the pieces exhibited in an iron cage till they rot to bones.’ Andreas looked grim. ‘Treason to the lord is the deepest crime, sir. You can see why they do it that way. When you attack the prince you attack all of us, the whole people he rules.’ ‘That’s the theory, Andreas, but when people are licenced to commit and glory in such savagery, that undermines them morally, just as much as the crime weakens the state.’ ‘How would you have it, sir?’ ‘Me? There is an argument for death as the sentence for the worst of crimes, but the rope or axe can do the deed efficiently without the macabre theatre and the jeering of delighted crowds. It panders to the lowest of humanity.’ ‘There’s a lot of them, sir. Many of them to be found in the Platz of Strelsau, believe me.’ ‘Your experience there is considerably more extensive than mine, Andreas. You may take it that I’m not happy to have to consign my former colleague, the Graf von Gerlitz, to such an end. But it is my duty, like it or not, and I really do need to find out what drove the man to this mad act, or, which is more likely, who drove him to it.’ ‘Ah sir, that’s likely also to involve pain, wouldn’t you say?’ ‘Indeed it will, I’m afraid to say.’ ‘Then I know who you should talk to, sir. My lord Mehmed. From that odd boy Hans Blicke, I get the idea that our Turkish gentleman has some experience in that sort of thing, and knowing him as we do, sir, I’d imagine that he would likely be the very best at it.’ *** Returning from the Citadel to his quarters in the Residenz, Serge remembered his unfinished business with his page. He rang for Karl Wollherz, and when the boy arrived told him to locate and bring Jonas to him. Karl gave an apologetic little bow. ‘Sorry, my lord,’ he said, ‘but I can’t.’ ‘What? Why?’ ‘He’s resigned your service, sir. He said you’d had some difference of opinion and he couldn’t carry on here, so he’s taken himself off.’ Karl adopted a pious look. ‘It’s the problem with street kids, sir. They can’t settle. Always have to be off after new thrills. You was lucky to keep him as long as you did.’ ‘But where’s he gone?’ ‘Don’t you worry, sir. He’ll look after himself, I paid him the balance of his salary on your behalf. Probably he’ll go to join up as a drummer boy again, or maybe find a new master, though without you as a reference that may not be so easy. Not everyone’s as understanding and generous as you, sir.’ Serge frowned at Karl. He suspected he was being played by his groom, but found himself unable to challenge him on the subject. But he could at least put him on the spot. ‘Well, I regret that. Jonas may have been a street boy, but he was a good servant. Tell me, Karl, what do you know of his background?’ ‘Not much sir. He was best friends with that Wilchin, if you remembers him. Jonas turned up at the Conduit not long after I took service with you, sir, so I never knew him from the old days. Wilchin and him joined up with the regiments when our prince went to war against the Turks, so he came to mind when you were looking for servants. Wilchin recommended him, not that you’d take his say-so on anything much if you had any sense. But Jonas turned out alright, didn’t he?’ ‘I suppose. Did you ever notice anything ... er ... odd about him?’ ‘Odd, sir? Odd like Hans Blicke?’ ‘No, Karl. I mean ... uncanny.’ ‘Uncanny, sir?’ ‘Were there things about him that were not easy to explain?’ Karl frowned as he pondered. ‘I once saw him dispose of half a tray of Mistress Margrit’s almond pastries straight from the oven without making himself sick. That what you mean?’ Serge shook his head and dismissed Karl, asking him to locate and fetch Mehmed, if he was free. He was however pretty sure he had indeed been played. *** Mehmed was silent for quite a while after Serge had shared the day’s news with him and described his problem. When he spoke up he wanted to know more about the state of politics in Ruritania and the Empire. ‘The idiot Gerlitz is clearly but a dupe,’ he reflected after he had listened patiently to Serge’s explanations. ‘I would say that for you it is rather more important to find out who is behind him, and then you will know a lot more about the shape of this conspiracy. Thank you for the confidential information about this Bavaria and its vain and ambitious lord. One day I may be able to put it to good use in my Emperor’s service. It is clearly in Bavaria that you will find the mainspring of the plot. Who else but its prince has the motive to murder your own Red Elphberg? Had the Gerlitz fellow succeeded, I imagine that the armies of Bavaria would already be crossing your frontiers. Tell me about his pistol.’ ‘Pistol?’ ‘You remarked he could keep it in his cuff, and that makes it unusual. I imagine it was small in size, and made of lighter materials. In other words, specially crafted for the purpose of assassination. Find the maker, or at least the dealer who sold it, and you may find your trail to Bavaria or to Bavaria’s agent.’ ‘Oh! I’ll get people on it.’ ‘A fascinating problem for you,’ the pasha smiled. ‘The fact that we have Gerlitz under lock and key is one benefit we have out of this. If, that is, he can be made to talk.’ ‘Paff!’ the Turk exclaimed. ‘Getting prisoners to talk is easy. It’s getting them to tell the truth that’s the problem. Is the man under close guard? There are people out there who will want to remove him from the board, and quickly.’ ‘I made a point of it. So how do I get him to talk?’ ‘There are ways to do it properly, but they take time. The brutal ones produce quite quick results, but what you get is not usually reliable, especially in this case.’ ‘Why’s that?’ ‘From what you say, this Gerlitz may think he has a cause. Such people can be difficult to break. Whether it is their faith in their God, or faith in some political dream, it gives prisoners a thing greater than their own life to hang on to and defend.’ ‘Can you assist me in this?’ Mehmed gave a wicked little smile. ‘I thought I was doing. But what will you do for me in return?’ *** Meanwhile, in a corner of the great stable of the Residenz of Mittenheim Karl grinned at Jonas. ‘Didn’t take yer long to get out of clothes,’ he observed. The elf stretched his slender brown limbs, and sighed. ‘I hate them. Don’t know how you put up with ‘em.’ ‘They has their uses, ‘specially in the winter. So you’re leaving us?’ Jonas shrugged nonchalantly, yet another human gesture he had acquired. ‘It was a good idea and I’ve learned a lot more than I thought I would while it lasted, but your lord Serge saw too much and started asking questions I couldn’t answer.’ ‘Just how did he get suspicious? Did yer get caught out magicking the hot water into their chamber? I told yer not to do it.’ Jonas grimaced to himself. ‘My mistake, but one I made some time ago’ he admitted. ‘I’d been watching the Hofburg for a while, and your lord Serge. I thought for a long time he might be the one whose blood was going to be stolen; that was before I realised Boro was a much easier target for the plotters. But as I was observing his arrival at the Hofburg I was accidentally summoned.’ ‘How could that happen?’ ‘Oh, words can be said at the right time and place, and then the clouds break around me and I can be seen. I just had time to cloak myself in a disguise. But I was seen by him and he remembered me, despite everything I could do. And then he wondered how in all the time since I had changed not a whit.’ ‘Pity. We’ll miss yer, Jonas. I’d thought that maybe Ando could take you on as his groom, now he’s a lord and all.’ ‘It wouldn’t work, and it’d take me away from my main job, which is to watch over Boro. I have a feeling things are coming to a head. But I’ll be always near at hand. I’ll send Wilchin to you, he’s becoming my official agent in the world, a job he loves. He can summon me at need and his talents can be useful to you. You’ll have to find somewhere to put him up though.’ ‘Maybe they’ll take him on here as a stable hand; there’s never enough of them, and the stablemaster is a friend. Wilchin’s not bad with horses. He can manage people too when he has to.’ Karl stood. He held out his arms, and hugged the elf boy. Then he stood back and let him vanish, which Jonas did with a very human wink.

There was a knock on the door of Serge’s study in Engelngasse, which he liked to call his ‘cabinet’ – a room all scholars, or would-be scholars, should work in, as he believed. His grandfather’s cabinet in the great house of Olmusch was an annexe to his library, where Roman busts, illustrated medieval bibles, a feathered headdress from the Americas and a narwhal’s horn were exhibited amongst many other curiosities. From there the Baron conducted his correspondence with the scholars and statesmen of Europe. Serge so far was still working on his curiosities, but he had assured Willi that he was undoubtedly the most curious object he had ever discovered and he would certainly have a special case made in which to exhibit him. ‘Enter!’ he called out. It was Jan Lisku, with news that Father Heer had arrived and everything was ready for their departure to Tarlenheim. Serge stood and looked out from his high window across the city of Strelsau, whose roofs and spires were still streaked with white from a snowstorm the previous week. It was the Monday after the Second Sunday in Advent, and Serge had found he would have an unexpected, but very welcome, companion on the road. Father Fabian Heer had business in Husbrau and Serge had been very happy to offer to ride along with him. When Serge came out into the yard in his riding gear, Jan was giving his last instructions to Margrit and Gottlieb, who were the caretakers of the Sign of the Angel for the next ten weeks. Gottlieb had been left the projects of renovating the ageing stable accommodation and the construction of two new stalls in the barn for the accommodation of visitors and potential new purchases. He had the help of an elder brother, an apprentice carpenter. Margrit was pledged to clean the house thoroughly from top to bottom, and not overfeed Gottlieb. Serge hoped that would be enough to keep them out of mischief. Jan Lisku would return to check up on them after Christmas and also collect the next quarter’s salary from the Hofburg. Erebus was saddled and awaiting Serge, with Jennet and Brunhild already occupied by Jan and Karl. Acheron, burdened with their baggage, was to be led on the road by Jan. The warhorse didn’t seem too much upset by the indignity; of the two blacks his was the milder personality. Both servants were now properly fitted with red livery coats under their winter cloaks, as they would be going amongst their fellows at Tarlenheim and there was to be no mistake they were attached to the Olmusch establishment. Serge also reckoned it would please his mother to see the familiar livery taken by her son, who would one day himself be the Baron of Olmusch. ‘Good morning, Father Heer!’ Serge hailed the third mounted figure in the yard. ‘My lord. A fine day, if cold. I can’t say how pleased I am to have your company on the unfamiliar roads into Husbrau.’ Serge urged Erebus out on to Engelngasse and the party trotted down across the Neustadt to emerge at the Lindenstrasse Bar, taking the westbound highway that led out into the province of Merz. For the horses’ sake Serge did not intend to push the pace on the hard-frozen roads, and they would stay overnight at the market town of Geldstadt, where the main road for Hofbau branched off the route to Ebersfeld. It was only twenty miles and they would arrive at their destination well before dusk. ‘I hope you’ll make a few days’ stay in Tarlenheim, Father,’ Serge began. ‘I wish I could invite you up to the house, but that’s not a thing I have a right to determine.’ ‘I quite understand, Sergius. But if you can secure access for me to the library there, that’s all I’d want of you.’ ‘That I think I can promise. It’s time I had a proper look at it myself. So tell me, what do you have in mind for your stay in Husbrau? Is this anything to do with the Jesuits’ project to edit the texts of all the lives of the saints?’ ‘Indeed it is, Sergius. The good Dr Van Papenbroeck depends very much on the contributions of scholars all over Europe, and I’m his only correspondent in Ruritania; a realm which has its small crop of saints though they’re not much known outside the kingdom, other perhaps than Vitalis, Apostle of the Rothenians, whose tomb is in the cathedral he founded on the Altstadt. Your ancestor, St Fenice of Tarlenheim or Medeln, will be well enough known to you of course, but her life and works are little appreciated these days in the wider Church. There is a ‘Life and Miracles’ by Bernard of Modenheim, her chaplain, which is full enough as it was composed to support her canonisation. But then there are her own writings and prophecies, which are extensive but barely appreciated since she mostly wrote in the Rothenian tongue rather than Latin. ‘My task this Advent is to establish for Dr Van Papenbroeck the number of manuscripts of Bernard’s Vita et Miracula beatæ Feniciæ that survive in Ruritania, and her native province of Husbrau in particular. But I have in mind a much more extensive project concerning her own writings, of which no printed edition so far exists.’ Serge was very intrigued. ‘This would be something that my grandfather Olmusch would be very happy to forward and publish I would think. He’s a great advocate for Rothenian language publications, the older the better.’ ‘I had hoped he and his society might be interested, and in due course I’d much value an introduction to the Baron. Have you consulted the Archaiographia Ruritanensis which Dr Antonic of the Rudolf University published some ten years ago?’ ‘No, Father, though my grandfather’s opinion of it is not high.’ ‘It has its faults certainly, but it’s a good starting point, especially as there are so many local copies of the Vita: three in the University Library, two in the cathedral library and one in the abbey of St Waclaw, as well as another two in the royal library at the Hofburg. Antonic knows of one manuscript he describes as in bibliotheca comitis Tarlenhemiæ but has no details otherwise, and I rather think he’d not seen it but included it as hearsay. He hasn’t yet replied to my query on the matter. So I’m going to investigate. Then there is at least one other copy in the library of the abbey of Medeln, which he had seen but does not date. My hope is that one or other of these Husbrau manuscripts will be Bernard’s autograph copy, and I hope to settle that question before Christmas.’ ‘Why’s that important, Father?’ ‘Well Sergius, the Van Papenbroeck method is to edit the printed version from the oldest available manuscript, the idea being that this would be the version closest to the author’s original intent, and the oldest copy of all will of course be that which is from the author’s own pen.’ Serge pondered this and rather approved the method, which made sense to him as a nascent scholar. The highway was taking them along a low ridge to the south of the Starel, the river glittering below them in the pale winter sunshine. Serge became aware of a subdued chatter from the servants behind. Karl Wollherz was evidently highly excited to be on the road and out of Strelsau for what must have been the first time since his parents had brought him there from Ostberg. Questions were tumbling out of the boy which Jan Lisku was struggling to keep up with. The distraction was a relief to Serge, who imagined that otherwise he would be resisting requests to stop at roadside shrines, the more difficult to do as he was in company with a clergyman. Father Heer at least was not badgering him on the subject. *** They reached Tarlenheim as the sun was beginning to set on Wednesday, after quite a hard day’s journey not made any easier by grey showers of sleet whirling down on them from the surrounding hills all through the afternoon. Their horses’ heads were down and mud spattered them up to their withers as they plodded into the market square of Tarlenheim, the great town church of St Fenice looming opposite them, dark against the pale sunset sky. Lamps were already lit in the surrounding houses. ‘We leave you here, Father,’ Sergius said. ‘I hear good things of the White Lion Inn. If there are any problems, send up to the great house and I’ll arrange something. Otherwise, I’ll come looking for you on Friday at Medeln Abbey, as we arranged, and by then I should have some news of the manuscripts in our library up at the house.’ ‘A blessing, Father,’ solicited Jan. Having been duly obliged, Serge and his two servants said their farewells and turned the horses away from the square and on to a road heading west and up into the river bluffs overlooking the town. It was dark and the horses were not happy with fall of night, but Serge knew the way well enough and soon the lights of the great house of Tarlenheim were ahead of them. Flambeaux burned at the lodge gates where the keeper hurried to open them for the Freiherr Sergius and stood, head bared and bowed, as he passed. A curving lane under oak trees brought them to the front of a many-gabled house, light blazing from its ranks of casements. Serge dismounted at the great Gothic porch with some relief. Tarlenheim servants bustled out, and he directed them to accommodate his own servants and horses and, after ordering Jan Lisku to attend him at his bedchamber as soon as he was able, Sergius walked up into the house of his fathers. The family was already at table, for the custom of the house in winter was to eat at sunset. Serge decided against changing out of his travel gear before joining them. He paused and took a deep breath as he came to the doors of the great hall. He had not been in company with his family as a group since the funeral of his grandfather in Strelsau several years ago. Much had changed since then, and his position in the family must necessarily change too. A servant opened the door for him. The familiar dark panelling, gloomy family portraits, elaborate plaster ceiling and high casements momentarily took him back to his own childhood days, though now the hall seemed a less intimidating and cavernous place than when he used to hide and play under its tables. The room was large but a great seigneurial hearth and strategically-placed tile stoves warmed it nicely, and Serge discarded his cloak at the door. The family occupied a cross table at the head of the hall in the old style, though the side tables reserved for dependents were empty. Serge walked across to the high table and executed a formal bow to the lord of the hall, his uncle and godfather the Graf Sergius, and to his aunt, the Gräfin Catherine. He then repeated the bow to his father and mother, who was smiling her welcome. The Count of Tarlenheim stood and formally welcomed Serge. ‘It’s been some time since you were here, young man. Welcome back to our house. Take a seat at the end there, next to your lady mother,’ he said, gesturing to his right hand side. Serge noted that this placed him at the opposite end of the table to the children of the family who were old enough to be sitting at dinner, and appreciated his uncle was recognising him as one amongst the adult Tarlenheims. Before he took his seat Serge had a warm embrace from his mother, the Gräfin Aimée. ‘My dear Serge, how you’ve grown, quite overtopping me in height now. I’m sorry not to have seen you in your military finery. My dear friend the Gräfin Melusina of Hentzau wrote me a long letter about the Martinmas review and said you were undoubtedly the most handsome and dashing officer on parade, with the exception of His Royal Highness, and that a hundred ladies fell in love with you.’ Serge blushed red, his body choosing immediately to compromise his adult status. He was lost for a reply, and settled for asking after her health. His eyes strayed to the far side of the table and he caught the eye of one of the two blonde boys sitting there. It was his brother Boromeo, now aged thirteen, sitting glum and withdrawn next to a very different boy of much the same age, their cousin the Graf Oskar, the heir to Tarlenheim. Young Oskar was having a very lively chat with the family chaplain, smiling and laughing. The contrast between the two children was very striking. Serge rather guessed that the cousins did not get on, and wondered why. The women and children withdrew after the last course, leaving the men to their wine, nuts and tobacco pipes. His uncle took them over to the oak settles ranged around the hearth and used the tongs to light his pipe with a coal from the blazing fire. Serge had heard somewhere that the benches had been brought down from the abandoned old castle on the hill, the original home of his dynasty. They were designed with high backs for draughty halls, just like this one. Several wolfhounds followed the men over to the hearth, their claws clicking on the tiles, and made themselves comfortable at the count’s feet. ‘Well now, Sergius my boy, your father has filled me in on your arrival at Strelsau and the use you’ve been making of your time there, and I am pleased. Your grandfather Olmusch and I were of the opinion that opportunities like this do not come along very often for a lad your age, if ever, and so we exerted ourselves to the uttermost to gain you the position. It seems to me that it was a gamble of sorts: who knew whether or not you and the crown prince would hit it off? But it seems that you’ve not just befriended the prince but moved very quickly into the favour of many others in the Hofburg.’ His father puffed out a cloud of blue smoke from his own pipe and added ‘Of course, no one could expect any success with the king, who’s not been much of a friend to the Tarlenheims of late. He was no help to our father in his last difficulties, and there was a mutual dislike. All noted the king did not have a mass said for his soul in the chapels royal at his death. Our position at court has not recovered since old Oskar died and to be honest we don’t have the means to cut any sort of figure.’ ‘But you, my boy,’ continued his uncle, ‘may well reverse that in due course. The connections you’re making can lead to all sorts of opportunities, and the captaincy in a guard regiment offered as a gift may be the first of many such. Of course, it’s personal and since it doesn’t come with a half-company it can’t be sold on, but still, it’s the first straw in the wind.’ Serge was boy enough still to find the way his honest friendship with Prince Henry was being discussed in such transactional terms rather undignified. But his studies had told him that materialism was the way of the court, and famous courtiers of the past, like Castiglione and Charny, were nonetheless men of great honour and charity. It just saddened him a little that the Tarlenheims had come to this sort of grubbing around. But he knew his family’s fortunes had suffered considerably and it had deeply marked his father and uncle as they struggled to retrieve them. So he reassured his uncle that he was sensible of his good fortune and would endeavour to do all he could to repay his generosity in making it possible. Talk between the older men then moved to the affairs of the estate and the countryside, to which Serge listened with half an ear. After about an hour of it Serge made his excuses and said he needed to retire after a hard day in the saddle, remembering before he went to ask permission from his uncle for the learned Father Heer to consult the library during his stay in Tarlenheim. ‘The prince’s almoner, eh? We’ll have him to dinner too. Fix a day, Sergius.’ A green-coated servant lighted him to his bedchamber, which was one of the rooms on the first floor of the west wing. He found his own red-coated servants awaiting his instructions. ‘We got this fire lit, sir,’ said Jan Lisku, indicating the hearth. ‘There’s a stove too, but we didn’t have the time to get it started. The people here hadn’t got round to it. To be honest I was taken aback by how few there are for such a big house.’ ‘Maybe they have the sickness in the place,’ wondered Karl, ‘and are all home in bed.’ ‘Not likely, I think,’ Serge replied. ‘If there’s a sickness, it’s in the purse.’ ‘Ah, sir, I wondered.’ Jan nodded. ‘The whole wing opposite is shut up, and the great stables more than half empty.’ ‘I saw to Brunhild and her friends, my lord!’ chirped up Karl. ‘They’re out of the weather, and we put blankets on them. They have nice beds of straw, and plenty of oats and water. Acheron was quite friendly to me, sir, whatever Gottlieb says.’ ‘How about your own accommodation?’ Serge asked. ‘There’s a dormer room, but it has no hearth or stove and only a narrow bed with one sheet,’ Jan informed him. ‘Then Karl can do the duty of the coucher.’ ‘What, sir?’ said his puzzled page. ‘You can do like I do at the palace when the prince goes to bed, Karl. Cuddle up in a nest on the floor here by the hearth, where it’s warm. And Janeczu, you take my winter cloak up to your room to help stave off frostbite. Mass in the oratory is usually around eight thirty in winter, so make sure I have hot water at eight. Now I have several candles, so take one up with you, Jan, and I’ll do some reading before I go to sleep.’ The room was by now warm so Serge stripped down to his drawers and lay out on the counterpane and took his book. Karl removed all but his shirt and dithered, until Serge asked him what the matter was. ‘Need to wee, sir.’ ‘Ah. Look, there’s a commode.’ He got up, dropped his own drawers and lifted the lid, then side by side he and the grinning boy pissed away the contents of their bladders. He pulled Karl up on to the bed next to him after they were done, and settled under the sheets while the boy sat next to him on the counterpane. They spent over an hour testing his reading, until the boy’s wavering attention told him it was time for sleep. Before he burrowed into his nest of cloaks and cushions Karl knelt before a crucifix on the wall and said some silent prayers, his lips moving. ‘Did your mother teach you to do that, child?’ asked Serge, for some reason very touched by the boy’s action. ‘Yes sir, so I pray for her, and father and the baby every night ... and you and Master Jan, sir, and also for Brunhild.’ *** After the morning mass in the cold chapel, where his breath steamed in the air as he made his responses, breakfast was served in a parlour off the hall, which at least had been properly warmed. Determined to get to grips with the puzzle that was his brother, Serge filled a plate from the buffet and took a seat next to Boromeo. ‘Hello, dear brother. It’s been quite a while since last we met,’ he commenced cheerily. The boy did not return his greeting, but grunted something inarticulate. ‘You weren’t at Grandfather Oskar’s funeral in Strelsau,’ Serge breezed on, ‘so it must have been at our aunt Hesther’s wedding back in ’86, when you were all of nine and I was twelve. Didn’t we play in the woods that day?’ Boromeo nodded. ‘Your servant was there too.’ Serge trawled his memory and indeed Jan Lisku had by then been retained at Olmusch as a page and had accompanied the Baron’s entourage to Tarlenheim, the only time he had left home before their great expedition to Strelsau. He had delighted at riding on the outside of the Baron’s coach all the way to Tarlenheim, which Serge had envied him, being stuck inside the swaying, stuffy vehicle. Boromeo carried on. ‘You wanted to show him all your secret places in the castle woods. You climbed the trees and left me down below.’ Was the boy resentful at him? Is this what it was all about? ‘Well, I’m sorry at that. I was clearly not a good friend to you that day. So you’re home from school with the Jesuits for the season. How is it at Modenheim?’ Boromeo’s train of resentment was not to be diverted however. ‘You never write me letters, like you do to mother and the others.’ Serge lost his smile. ‘No, I don’t. And I’m sorry for that, though I hope mother conveys to you the greetings and good wishes I always include. She doesn’t let you read them? No? Well, we have a chance to make up for things now I’m out in the world. I promise to write to you, if you promise to write back.’ There was no answer, and having bolted down what was on his plate Boromeo left the table with only a cursory farewell. Serge had very mixed feelings about the encounter, though puzzlement was the chief of them. He was by nature an easy-going, good-humoured and articulate youth, skilled at making bridges with people and never lost in company. It began to occur to him how different a boy his brother was, and it might be a challenge to make any sort of relationship with him that was comfortable. An unaccustomed frown clouded Serge’s brow as he sought out the library. It was in the closed east wing of the house, dark and cold. He had never been allowed to enter it as a child in the days of old Count Oskar, and the opportunity to penetrate its doors had not occurred since. They were not locked as it happened, and all within was in deep gloom as the windows had been shuttered. Green cloths were laid over tables and seats. It was also musty in the way familiar to Serge from the similar if smaller library at Olmusch. It was indeed the largest library he had been in to date, though he imagined the University and cathedral libraries at Strelsau would be on a different scale entirely. But that at Tarlenheim was in fact bigger than the library at the Hofburg, which he had got to know quite well. Serge opened the lower shutters to let in some light and found the presses reached from floor to ceiling, the shelves stuffed tight with books, some laid horizontally in the spaces above the spines of those ranked upright. The collection had at some time been properly ordered, with presses devoted to the literature of the Greeks and Romans, to law and theology and to French and German literature. He was a little disappointed to find not as much as he had hoped on the history of Ruritania and the Rothenian people. What there was consisted of universal histories and tracts on noble families. He saw no manuscript collection on view, and pondered whether such works were locked away or kept in the family’s muniment room. He would have to ask his uncle, whose head for business indicated that the family’s collection of deeds, accounts and indentures were very much his province. One press was given over to an inordinate amount of natural philosophy, which was of no immediate interest to Serge until he realised that entire shelves were devoted to what he realised must be hermetic works, some of them of very dubious content from the titles stamped on their spines. It began to occur to him how it was his late grandfather had acquired his reputation as a scholar who skated beyond the edge of what the Church felt acceptable in studies of the natural world and the forces which guided it. Serge had never read such works, but he picked out the thick volume stamped as Mysteriorum Libri Quinque or Ye Five Bokes of Misteries. All Europe knew of its author, the notorious occultist Dr John Dee. There was set beside it a copy of his Monas Hieroglyphica, which Serge knew for a famous Kabbalistic work, and he noticed how well used that particular title had been. He opened it and scanned the title page, noticing the printing at Frankfurt. A smile quirked up his lips as he deciphered the opening motto ranged around the glyph of the title: Qui non intelligit aut taceat aut discat, ‘a man without understanding should either shut his mouth or open his mind’. He doubted the emperor to whom it was dedicated had been amused by the sentiment; if, that is, he had ever opened his copy. He checked Count Oskar’s annotated bookplate and found the date and place of purchase as Vienna in 1652, then put the work aside. He might not learn much from it, but he might find there something about the way his grandfather’s mind worked. Serge began to take down the adjacent titles, Dee’s Propaedumata aphoristica, the Maior et Minor Claves Salomonis regis; the Libri Tres de Occulta Philosophia by Henricus Cornelius Agrippa; the Tractates de Chrysopoeia Alchemica and the Alchemica of Stephanos of Alexandria. There were many more, and it occurred to Serge that for the family’s sake these titles should not be on open show to the world in their library, especially if Father Heer was likely to be visiting in a day or two. He had best mention the problem to his father or uncle. The library was too cold and gloomy to sit there and catch up with his correspondence. He owed letters to Willi von Strelsau, Lady Ulrica and his grandparents at Olmusch, as well as a note to Father Heer down in the town. So he made his way back to the warmth of the parlour and rang for Jan Lisku to bring his writing case. *** Serge rapped on the door of the exchequer room, as it was called. He found his uncle where the butler said he would be, behind his green baize desk, a pipe in his mouth and the plume of a pen behind his ear. He was intent on his ledgers, but smiled when he looked up and saw his nephew. ‘Come in, lad. Pleasure to see you. You have the look of a man who’s after something.’ ‘Yes, sir,’ Serge confessed. ‘It’s actually for Father Heer. He’d like to search amongst the manuscripts we possess for a medieval life of St Fenice. I couldn’t find them in the library, so I was wondering where they might be.’ The count gave a shrug. ‘Old is it? Then most likely in the muniment room. Don’t know where that is? It’s down in the cellars under the chapel. The key’s hanging there, so by all means take it and go look. Something else?’ ‘Yes, sir. While I was looking around the library, I came upon a lot of volumes of Count Oskar’s. They deal with subjects that some might find dubious: alchemy, thaumaturgy and, I fear to say, the summoning of spirits and demons.’ ‘You don’t say? I’ve not got round to the library since the old man died. Not really had that much time. Dubious, you say?’ ‘I know several of them have been condemned by the Church to be burned. Now I wouldn’t recommend we do that, but I think it might be politic to at least remove them from the open shelves.’ ‘Hmmph. Perhaps you can attend to that for me.’ The count sighed. ‘The old man caused no end of problems in his time for me and your father, and that one is minor compared to some of them, believe me. What a strange family we are. At one end of the scale we have the blessed Fenice, which puts us up there with the kings of France as a family with an honest-to-goodness saint of the church in our lineage. And just to balance things out, there’s my father. ‘Sit yourself down, Sergius, it’s really time you and I had this conversation. You’re a sober lad and clever with it, and you should know something of the circumstances of your grandfather’s departure from the world, so far as we’ve managed to work them out.’ The count charged his pipe and used a taper to light it. He took a couple of meditative puffs before beginning. ‘Now it was the year ’87. Your father was with the Imperial forces in Hungary, as you’ll recall, and you had been safely at Olmusch for five years by then. I was holding the fort here with my mother, bless her. Your grandfather Oskar had been gone from home for over two years at this time, and all we ever got from him were debt bonds to settle raised in Jewish houses across Europe. What he was doing, God – or the Devil – alone know. ‘It was to get you out of the way of all these troubles that your parents had decided that Olmusch was the safest place for you, when you were seven. Your honoured grandfather the baron was happy enough to take over responsibility for your upbringing, as you will be in the course of things yourself the Baron of Olmusch, but he knew from your mother the trouble we were sinking into as a family. He gave us more help in staving off complete ruin than it will ever be possible to acknowledge: several large loans free of interest which the estate is only now paying back. ‘The last letter we had from old Oskar was from Prague and he assured us he was returning to Ruritania, and expected to be with us after travelling through Glottenburg to Medeln abbey. Your Aunt Maria, who’s now abbess there, had another letter from him by the same post and I rather suspect she was closer in with his plans than we were. She did mention that our father’s projects were coming to some sort of completion. She didn’t seem that happy about it however. Odd, as the two were thick as thieves for much of the time. She had more of his confidence than our mother ever did.’ ‘And what projects were those, sir?’ Serge interjected. ‘There are all sorts of rumours. He undoubtedly spent years searching for the key that would change base metal to gold; his idea of a way to end the money troubles he had caused, no doubt. As you can plainly see, it was no great success. Had it been, we’d not have been left in such a mess.’ The count gave a harsh laugh which ended in a coughing fit, eventually resuming. ‘From what you say about those books in the library, I would give more credit to the theory that he was intent on raising up and interrogating spirits of power, and there at least there is some reason to believe he was more successful.’ ‘Surely not, sir.’ Serge’s rational scepticism could not allow this to pass. ‘Such things are mere superstition. The idea of a world of spirits with power to act independently of God is simply not credible.’ ‘Is that so, sir?’ his uncle said. ‘Do we not read in scripture of those deceitful spirits that Our Lord cast out of men in his day, and of angels and demons who walked among men.’ ‘Yes sir, of course. But scripture says that none of these could exist or act without God’s sanction. They had no power to stand against Him. Did Count Oskar consider he could employ such perilous beings for his own purposes?’ ‘So it seems. One of the powers they are said to possess is the knowledge of buried treasure. For my part, I’d be willing to believe that this was the power he sought to meet his desperate needs, and in pursuing it brought spirits into the world who had no business here. So on the Monday after Trinity Sunday, which was the twenty-sixth day of May, he came to the gates of the abbey of Medeln and requested the right of hospitality he had as being lord of Tarlenheim and one of the patrons of the house. The next day, which is the feast of St Vitalis, there was a high mass in the church as being the patron of Ruritania, at which there was quite a distinguished gathering of clerics and noblemen. ‘The abbess of the time was the aged Clothilde, the sister of King Rudolf I, who had presided over the house for many years by then, and she was a formidable woman held in much respect across Husbrau. There are stories about her. Do you know she opened fire with a musket on a gang of Swedish marauders who tried to force the abbey? Brought down their chief too. We had it from her that the whole congregation witnessed your grandfather exercise his right as patron to walk the ambulatory around the choir after mass and he was seen to pass within the gates to contemplate the tomb of St Fenice, as he said he intended. He never came out. When a sister was sent to seek him she returned pale and incoherent. She talked of the smell of sulphur in the choir, and when others went to check they found nothing but a spray of blood across the paving behind the tomb, which had been marked with arcane symbols; mere ripped rags of his clothing and a book dropped open on the floor.’ ‘And what would you conclude from this, uncle?’ ‘Why Sergius, that the man attempted a great blasphemy and was struck down by the very spirit he had hoped to enslave. You can imagine what people made of that, and we did our damnedest to hush it up, but I have to admit it was not for nothing that the king refused to allow the commemoration of Count Oskar’s soul in the chapels royal.’ *** Jan Lisku inspected Karl carefully as the boy led Brunhild out into the stableyard. He straightened his cocked hat and tied a scarf carefully around the boy’s neck before lifting him up into the saddle. ‘So you know where to go?’ ‘Yes, Master Jan. I ride back to the town the way we came last night. The post office in the market place will accept the Tarlenheim bag without payment and then I must take his lordship’s note to Father Heer at the White Lion and wait for a reply if he’s to be found there.’ ‘Good. Don’t push Brunhild, though the road’s muddy rather than icy. You can trot her for exercise if you can find a green lane. Come to think of it, once you’re back and Brunhild’s been rubbed down, you can saddle up and exercise Jennet round the paddock, but not our two stallions.’ ‘Acheron likes me.’ ‘Maybe so, but he and Erebus could trample you underfoot and not even notice they’d squashed you. They’re for his lordship alone to play with. Understood?’ ‘Yes, Master Jan.’ ‘Good.’ He watched the boy trot off under the archway and down the drive. Karl had no difficulty in managing Brunhild and sat securely and confidently on the mare. The boy was very patient and indeed gifted with horses, it seemed. Maybe that was a skill of his which should be developed. There might be a future for him in stable management rather than domestic service. Karl duly made his rounds in the town and began the journey back up to the house, Father Heer’s reply in his pocket. He kept an eye open for a ride where he could let Brunhild stretch her legs. Just past the lodge gates a green lane opened between trees leading towards the hills above the house. The mare seemed to read his mind; she looked back at him and snorted, so he kicked his boot heels into her flanks and she took off at a canter. It was a grand ride. The grass was quite even, without the danger posed by molehills and dropped branches, and he was confident enough to let Brunhild hit a full gallop before the slope began to rise. He was grinning fit to bust as the wind whipped past and billowed his riding cloak behind him. He was bursting with happiness that morning, for he realised that life was indeed being good to him. He remembered the uncanny ghost boy he still believed he had encountered when he ran away, and was so grateful for his warning and that he had done the hard thing and listened to what he had been told. Brunhild slowed as the ride steepened, but they had nearly crested the rise before she came to a walk. At the hilltop Karl brought her to a halt. He sat the horse and looked down on the world. The sky was a pale winter grey but the cloud cover was high and he could see quite a distance. The broad and shallow valley of the Taveln lay at his feet, the hills on its eastern side opposite him pale in the distance. Below him were the roofs of the great house of Tarlenheim, smoke rising straight from its many chimneys. Nearer at hand, along the ridge he had just topped, was a tumbled mass of masonry: broken walls and towers and deep ditches. He walked Brunhild closer to the ruins and dismounted, leading her by her reins across a surviving stone bridge, under an arch and into a grassy court, on to which faced the empty windows of roofless lodgings. Brunhild snorted at him and gave him a look which seemed to be asking him why they were there. ‘It’s an old castle,’ he explained, ‘older than the Lines back home in Strelsau. Just want to look around, that’s all. You can stay here. Be good.’ In answer, Brunhild rolled her eyes in a disconcertingly human way and began cropping at the winter grass. Karl poked his head around a nearby doorway. The stories his mother told him had often mentioned castles as magical places haunted by fairies, witches and the like, so he had some expectations for his exploration, but all he found within was a weed-grown roofless space littered with debris. Nothing daunted, he crossed to the other side of the court where a more substantial range of buildings reared up, including the tallest of the surviving towers. This time within the doors he found a room with its stone vaults intact and several arched and traceried windows letting in light, though their glass was gone. With his growing experience of ecclesiastical buildings under Jan Lisku’s guidance, he had no difficulty recognising he was in a church of some sort. He knew big houses usually contained chapels, and he supposed castles might do too. Indeed there was a raised stone table at one end which had to be an altar. He mooched around and found some weathered wall-paintings on surviving spaces of plasterwork, which he imagined might be saints, and one in particular was quite clear and still vivid: a winged child, a coronet on his brow and a halo round his head. His pinions were a dark shade and his face beautiful under a crown of raven hair. Oddly, the face seemed familiar from somewhere, as did the voice which spoke into the silence of the chapel behind him. He turned, and sitting cross-legged up on the altar now was a boy his own age with just such a face as was on the mural; he was quite naked and on either side of his forehead were small, sharp spikes of blue.

I suppose that answers my earlier query.

That Zai hadn’t been aware of Jahke’s plan before he’d stepped into the den was proof of how greatly improved his skills at creating mental blockades had become. Tobias had taught him how, and Zai was certain Nassau had helped. After only two decades the pale little faun was far better at keeping the house’s empaths out of his head than Kiorl had ever been. And he has had eternity to practice already. Zai arched an eyebrow at the broad couch where Jahke lay on his front, book propped open against Sitka’s thigh with his mate’s broad, black hand in his hair. “Hello you two. Didn’t think you’d still be in. No plans for Samhain?” “Hey Zai. You know Jahke’s always scheming.” Sitka’s voice was warm with adoration, and Zai might have thought him sappy, but he was well aware of his own smitten nature when it came to the man he loved. “But no, we’re not going out. Will you join us?” Sitka was far less good at guarding his thoughts, and clearly he and Jahke had been speaking of Jahke’s plan before he’d entered. The idea was right at the top of his mind, and though Zai could only glimpse the specifics – like the shape of the moon through the clouds – what he felt made him smile. The idea was not without merit. Without moving, he reached out for the connection with his mate, a bright and shining thing he visualized as a rope, and poured his want down it. Zai? Tobias’s answer was as clear in his mind as Nassau’s voice whenever the Prince spoke to him directly. You need me? I always need you, Sweetling. Zai grinned. Tobias was a much more powerful empath than he was, and he knew he only needed to direct his thoughts to allow his mate to hear him. But yes, come join us. The house is very quiet. It didn’t take long for Tobias to join them from wherever he had been. As soon as he appeared, Zai wanted nothing more than to encircle the young man in his arms, strip him bare, and lay waste to him with teeth, lips, and claws. But he’d learnt to control those urges, if not quell them, and Zai was well aware he was watched intimately – as only his mate could – as he took his lust-laden desires and banked them with so many others, ready to be unleashed in private. “Everyone is out.” Tobias did not phrase it as a question, and he did not need to be an empath to know that Zinkara Rumah was empty save the four of them. Kiorl had gone with a large party Upstairs, including the Prince, and Jin-Ha had been gone the past tenday with friends from another house. Each of that group had been intent on putting in a good showing at their temples to secure their reputations among mortals for many more years. “Will you join us for a game, Tobias?” Jahke pitched his voice sweetly, soft; not seductive like he might have done for Kiorl or Shindae. Zai flicked his tuft tipped tail back and forth. “You don’t look much in the position to be playing cards, Jahke.” Tobias replied crisply. What are you three up to? The chef cast and sidelong deep blue gaze at his mate. Nothing at all Sweetling. Play with the boy. “You’re planning something.” Tobias commented, though it was not completely clear to whom he was speaking. “What game, Jahke?” They ended up sat facing each other, cross legged on the broad couch, the deck spread on the cushion between them as Tobias dealt their hands of durak. Sitka kissed the soft skin on the back of Jahke’s neck in a display of public affection Zai could not even dream of being allowed, then crossed the den to settle next to him. “You disapprove?” The black skinned young demon asked, onyx eyes bright, but concerned. Zai smiled. It was easy to forget, sometimes, that so many of his emotions didn’t show on his face. Before Tobias had come, it wasn’t important to share them with the world, and afterwards he hadn’t needed to, because Tobias could fish around in his head almost as easily as the Prince. “No. I don’t think he’ll take your boy’s bait though. Good strategy, leaves him a way out if he wants it.” “Tobias is very proud.” Sitka agreed. His smile was very white. “I’ve always liked that about him.” “You know he likes you best.” Zai relaxed back into the cushions of the chaise, tail flopping idly as he began to toe off his boots. Sitka grunted in genuine surprise, and Zai reached out to ruffle his curly mane. “He thinks you’re nought but a walking appetite and he hates it when you leave hoof trimmings in the bathroom, but yes, you’re his favourite. You turn up first at meal times, and you’ve never been shy in showing him deference.” Zai raked the other demon with his gaze, grinned, and allowed himself to feel smug as Sitka blushed hotly under his black skin. Sitka cleared his throat, and Zai knew what he was going to say before he opened his mouth. “You were always my favourite,” the demon said in a small voice. “Before.” “Flattery will get you many places.” Zai felt the soft needling at his mind which meant his husband wanted his attention. Sweetling? They tell you this plan of theirs? Tobias was playing his hand, laying out good attacks, his attention apparently focused. But Zai had always known the boy he’d found in the woods was sharp and bright, and it was no trouble at all for Tobias to carry on their conversation silently. No. Hmmm… probably best. You’re terrible at keeping secrets. I keep yours. Zai reminded him gently. That you do my love. Tobias glanced across the den at him. You two look comfortable. You know I wouldn’t stop you if you wanted to indulge. Sweetling… The idea of spending the evening of Samhain with Sitka and Jahke was deeply appealing, but Zai already knew he liked Jahke’s plan more. Leave it to the surprisingly kinky little faun to figure out a way to keep Tobias in the room – Zai hadn’t tried in all their years together. I want whatever you want. You know better than to lie to an empath Zai. But… There were no words, Tobias wasn’t thinking at him directly, but Zai felt his mate’s hesitant curiosity, his uncertainty, his fierce pride. He bathed the foreign emotions in warmth, and across the den Tobias sat up a little straighter. Whatever you want Sweetling. I love you. Tobias finished his hand, drew from the deck, and took his turn defending against Jahke. “So Jahke, what are the stakes?” “Hmmm?” “Don’t be shy with me, you aren’t with anyone else. What do you want if you win?” Jahke folded his hand of cards in his lap and looked pointedly over at where Zai and Sitka lounged together on he chaise. “Jahke, if you want my mate, you only have to ask. He is always very happy to indulge-” Zai felt the shape of all the words Tobias would not say aloud, saw a flicker fast myriad of indecent images, things Zai’s mind had burdened him with from others but never seen himself, “-your habits.” Tobias finished. “But that’s not what I want for myself.” Jahke grinned devilishly. He maintained the smile as Tobias’s dark eyes widened ever so slightly, and Zai knew the pale faun had shown Tobias the whole of his plan. Knowing Jahke’s fine imagination, Zai was sure the fantasy had been produced in feverish detail. “Well?” The faun purred cockily. “Best of three?” He wants you for Sitka. Tobias told him silently. And he wants me to stay. To… watch. Sweetling, no one would force you. Least of all Jahke. Zai reached out with the dark whorls of his empathic pattern and wrapped soft tendrils around the boy he loved. I cannot say that the idea does not appeal though. Play your game, see if he can best you to get what he wants. They all knew it was a sham, though no one said anything. Tobias was not known to cheat at cards, or at any other game, and he’d been well taught at how to shut his mind away in order to preserve his sanity. But it was common knowledge within the house that if Tobias wanted to win, no amount of luck or skill would stop him, because there was no poker face good enough to beat a clairaudient empath. Jahke laid down his final card with a triumphant grin, leaving Tobias holding the remainder of his hand, and therefore losing the game. “Well met, Jahke.” “Thank you, Tobias.” Zai almost felt sorry for Sitka, who was the only one who didn’t hear Jahke’s soft, bashful, adoring thought which followed. I know you let me win that first hand. Thank you Tobias. Jahke left Tobias to pack away the cards into their slender wooden box, and crossed the den on his dainty cloven hooves to where his lover waited beside Zai. The pair kissed deeply, Sitka groaning, and his shining eyes were dim with lust when they broke apart. Jahke turned to Zai, radiating confidence and pride. “And how is my prize feeling?” Zai tasted the desires in the boy’s blond head and smirked. “Amenable to being given instruction.” Zai dragged his tongue over his fangs, watching as Jahke’s blue gaze tracked the motion. “Where do you want me, pretty boy?” “Stand up, come closer. You too Sitka.” “Yes, Beautiful.” Sitka looked like he would have followed Jahke through the fire mountains if the boy had commanded it. But Jahke merely settled himself back on the couch, gently reposed in his pleated breech-clout, every inch a creature of pleasure. Zai was happy to indulge him. Any requests Sweetling? Tobias was very still, and Zai knew it was the effort of not shivering, not breaking away and running, which made his mate sit so rigid in his seat. When Tobias looked at him, Zai felt like he’d been stabbed through the chest, and it was glorious. Just don’t bite him. Dearest, you know my fangs are yours alone. It was an easy promise to make, because no matter the desire to clamp down on a warm muscle in the moment of orgasm, Zai would rather trade a million of those little highs for the ecstasy he could only find with his mate. I love you. I know. “Sitka. Help Zai with his clothes.” If it hadn’t been for the fact he could feel each of Sitka’s emotions, Zai would have said the little faun had found a way to use the cloven hoofed demon’s power of compulsion on him. Sitka’s fingers were fast on his belt buckle, and the demon ran warm palms up his chest as he helped to discard Zai’s tunic over his head. Zai caught Sitka with a hand around his horn, and tilted the handsome face up to his own. “You wanna put on a show for our boys then?” “Oh yeah.” “You remember how to ask for mercy?” The shape of Sitka’s mind shuddered, revulsion running through his core like a cold knife, before it was replaced with warm desire once more. Zai nodded, satisfied. No pain, anguish, or begging were enough to distract him if he got himself lost in the revelation of lust and desire with a partner, and it had taken a few false starts for Nassau to find something which would work for the other residents of Zinkara Rumah. They didn’t know why the picture of the moon that exact shape was experienced by Zai as such a cold horror, but they never asked. It worked, though Zai hadn’t needed anyone to use it since he’d become mated. It was always good to check. “Good boy. Come here.” Sitka kissed passionately, always had, and Zai allowed himself to slip away from the knowledge that Jahke had a plan, and just enjoyed himself with his friend. Sitka opened for him readily, fingers dragging through Zai’s short steel grey hair as he pulled him closer, licking into his mouth with a groan. Zai skidded his hands down Sitka’s torso, wrapped his fist in the fabric of his loin cloth, and tore it away. Belts and buckles clattered to the floor. Sitka vibrated excitedly under his touch, and when Zai scratched down his ribs – not breaking the skin – the pin-pricklings of reflected pain gave Zai an observable reaction. “Aren’t they pretty?” Jahke’s tone was light, warm, gently conversational. If Zai hadn’t been an empath the boy might well have been discussing paintings in the Long Gallery. “C’mon Tobias, you’re supposed to look. That was part of the deal.” Zai cracked open one sun-yellow eye and glanced over at his mate. He didn’t need to see Tobias to know he would look uncomfortable, but the sight was almost enough to make him stop the whole scenario and just whisk the boy he loved away. If I want to use my safe words I will. Tobias snapped silently. Don’t you dare making my fucking decisions for me. Sitka kissed down his neck, and Zai turned the bulk of his attention back to the black skinned demon, one hand wrapping around a big horn. He’d seen a variety of pictures in Jahke’s mind, but all of them featured Sitka in a position of worship. Zai used Sitka’s horn like a handle, pushing the demon where he wanted him. “On your knees Sitka. Open wide.” The pink interior of Sitka’s mouth was such a stark and sexy contrast to the dusky black of his skin that Zai stopped just to look at him. He could feel the nervous thrum of Tobias’ emotions, and was surprised to find the very faintest thread of what he might have called jealousy if it had come from anyone else. He’d done this for Tobias plenty of times, but the recruit had never returned the favour – not that Zai had ever asked him to. Now Zai felt his mate looking around the inside of his head as he shifted his hips and deliberately slapped Sitka in the face with the hard length of his cock. “Mmfh!” Sitka groaned, aroused and frustrated. He attempted to turn his head to catch him, but Zai tightened his grip on the spiralled horn and held him tight. “Zai….” “Take it up with your boy.” Zai smirked at Jahke – visibly aroused with his milk pale skin beautifully flushed across cheeks and nipples – and the faun let out the softest of whimpers as he remembered Zai could actually see inside his head. “He’s the one who wants me to torture you a little bit. Stick out your tongue.” Sitka did as he was told, and Zai felt the sharp spike of anticipation which waited within the younger demon. Zai’s empathic senses took the feeling and it coiled low in his belly as a hot snake of lust, swelling as Zai tapped the tapered head of his dick against Sitka’s pink tongue. To his credit, the horned demon didn’t move, and Zai purred with pride when he hit him hard. Sitka’s cheek was shiny with Zai’s precum, his chest rising and falling with little breaths, the hands which rested on his thighs quivering in self control. His own unusual cock, as ridged as his horns but slightly less twisted, jutted from between his thighs, but Sitka knew better than to touch himself. Just as Zai yanked Sitka forward by one horn, his cock finally finding it’s target between his lips and sinking into his mouth, he felt the presence of his lover watching over his shoulder. Zai reached out and raked his lover’s mind with the claws of his pattern. On the sofa, Tobias shivered bodily. What’s it like? He’d happily let you find out. Zai answered. He made a little picture in his mind of how Tobias might look, naked and beautiful, blushing hotly as Sitka sucked him off, and projected it to his mate. That’s something I’d like to see. Tobias’s eyes widened, just enough for Zai to know he’d had an effect on the boy, but his mouth thinned as he brushed the picture aside. No. I meant what is it like for him? Zai swallowed audibly and tore his gaze from Sitka happily and enthusiastically taking his cock so well to look over at Tobias. The idea of Tobias, on his knees, lips parted for his cock… the fact that Tobias didn’t mentally smack him for the image was almost as much of a shock as the groan which escaped his lips. Sitka hummed around his length, tongue wrapping around the hard muscle, eyes closed in obvious pleasure. Zai glanced at Jahke as he realised he and his lover had been silent for a long time. “Jahke?” “Mmm?” Jahke’s mind was replaying several memories, all on a similar theme, and for a moment Zai found it hard to read the boy’s actual intentions. “Sorry?” “Do you mind if Tobias comes over here?” Zai felt Sitka’s mouth shaping a query and he slapped the demon’s cheek with strong fingers quickly. “Not something for you to worry about. Back to work Sitka.” Jahke frowned at his friend. “Tobias? I mean, of course, but-” “It’s OK Jahke. Don’t worry about it.” Zai reassured the pale faun softly. “Ain’t no one able to tell Tobias what to do.” Come Sweetling. Tobias said nothing, but stood, brushed imaginary dust from his jeans, and crossed the room to him. He didn’t look concerned, or aroused, and it was only Zai’s empathic abilities which allowed him to know that his mate was feeling anything at all. The world Tobias had grown up on had forced him to learn how to school his features and his desires, and it was not a skill the boy was able to rid himself of. You want to feel him? He asked silently. Yes. It’ll be easier with touching. “Hey Sitka. Oh yes, good boy, just like that.” Zai jerked his hips forward, thrusting into Sitka’s throat, momentarily distracted by is skilled tongue. “Don’t freak out OK? Tobias is just gonna join us for a little ride along.” Sitka projected his agreement, along with the faintest cloud of confusion, because he couldn’t answer with his mouth full, and Zai kept his vision trained on his friend as Tobias laid a strong, slim hand on his bare shoulder. Sitka’s patterns were all black, just like his skin and his shining eyes, and they were happy curling shapes, curious but not grasping, softly twirling and repeating until they formed the slick, oily shimmer which represented his compulsive power. Zai watched as, in the centre of Sitka’s dark eyes, familiar whorls appeared – invisible unless one knew how to access second sight – as Tobias slid his mind in alongside Sitka’s own. Gods, that’s smooth. Nassau’s lessons are worth it. Oooohhh…. Zai practically felt Tobias’s exhale on his skin as the boy sunk into the sensation of Zai’s cock in Sitka’s mouth. Sitka vibrated happily, clearly enjoying himself, and leant forward eagerly as Zai thrust his hips again, swallowing him deeper until Zai ground the head of his cock against the back of his throat. Tobias looked stunned, and Zai could feel his lover experiencing not only Sitka’s arousal but his own through the stranded ropes of their connection. Tobias in pain was something Zai enjoyed above all else, but this reflected and refracted pleasure was new, and the power of it warmed something in his core. “Getting busy in your head is it, Sitka?” Zai stroked the side of his jaw softly, then curved his fingers under the other demon’s throat to feel the way he was stretched around Zai’s girth. “I’ve always wondered if you taught Jahke how to be the best cocksucker in Hell or if being with him has just made you better?” He let his attention wander back over to where Jahke was now obviously touching himself through his clothes, and felt the flush of pride the praise stoked in him. “Is it still a compliment if it’s true? Who knows. Now is not the time for reference books.” “Is it nice, Tobias?” Jahke asked, though they could all tell it was a struggle for the faun to keep his tone so light and airy. “It’s...” Tobias’s dark eyes were half lidded, his cheeks hot, and the fingers which lay upon Sitka’s shoulder gripped tightly now. “He really likes it. Likes being told what to do.” Jahke preened, because clearly this was not a new discovery for him, and Sitka’s eyes flashed up at Zai with the faintest trace of warm guilt. Zai could feel the shape of his thoughts, and though it was not ordinarily in his nature, he rushed to reassure the younger demon, caressing the soft pillow of his lower lip even as Sitka sucked. “Don’t think that. You are doing extremely well. And no, I don’t get to command people around like this whenever I want to.” He felt Tobias’ hum in his head, giving him permission to divulge, if only for tonight. “I married a beautiful and delicious man, but he is not one to be told what to do – not in the kitchen and not in bed. I am not as all powerful as you might think Sitka.” He pulled himself abruptly from the warm, constricting heat of Sitka’s mouth and grabbed his jaw, squeezing hard. “It goes without saying that if you ever repeat any of this I will tear out your spine and feed it to you. Understood?” “Yes sir.” Sitka’s compliance was breathless and instantaneous, and Zai felt the thrill of it ricochet around his skull. “Well Jahke? You won the game, it’s your scene. What do you want me to do to your mate, pretty boy?” Jahke’s mind flickered, projecting visions blink fast before he picked one that produced noises of wonder and shock from both Zai and Tobias. Their reactions only cemented the idea further, and Zai almost felt sorry for Sitka being left in the dark. “You tell him Tobias. I think he likes your voice the best.” Are you sure? I’ve never, we’ve never… Tobias’s confusion was understandable. Zai had never kept secrets from his mate – he couldn’t – but it wasn’t something he’d thought about since well before the War. Zai nodded. It’s been a very long time. If you don’t want him to, just say. Zai rolled his shoulders, smoothing his thumb across Sitka’s spit-shined lips. Not being able to join their conversation didn’t justify ignoring him, not when he was such a good sport. Emotions rolled under the slippery surface of Tobias’s mind, flashes of passion and desire and lust mixing with cooler shades of worry and self-reproach. It boiled as Tobias wondered if he’d done something wrong in his ignorance of this part of Zai’s sexual history, and Zai didn’t like that. He dropped into a crouch, leant over Sitka’s broad shoulder, wrapped his fingers around Tobias’s arm without dislodging his grip and bit hard into his flesh. Blood welled up around his fangs, coating his tongue, and both Tobias and Sitka gasped in pain at the same time as the horned demon felt an echo of the action through the bond the empath had created. If I’m not allowed to pity you, then you’re not allowed to either! He snapped even as he tightened his jaw. Tobias whimpered when fangs scraped against bone. Now are you in or not? “Did I use my fucking safe word?” The former human gritted out, fiery and defiant despite the pain, or perhaps because of the pain. Zai beamed and gave the wound a cursory lick before drawing back. It was enough to staunch the worst bleeding, but left the torn skin open. He caught the ragged edge with a claw and felt Tobias’s stomach lurch sickly, experienced the feeling as a dart of golden ecstasy, and perceived with his inner vision the way Tobias took that golden strand back into himself, coiling up in Zai’s arousal, full of bliss. If you tell him what to do, it’ll almost be like you’re doing it. Zai told him, even though they both knew it already. Now tell him what Jahke wants him to do. “Sitka?” Tobias’s voice was low and measured, and Sitka’s skin prickled at the warmth of it along the back of his shoulders. “You’re gonna fuck Zai. That good with you?” “Flames….” Whatever disappointment the horned demon felt at dropping his submissive role was entirely subsumed by the raw delight of the image Tobias’s words had presented him with, and both empaths felt the way his pulse jumped at the idea. “Yes sir.” “It’s been… rather a long while.” Zai had to swallow around his tongue, his voice felt rusty. “Why don’t you come get comfortable then?” Jahke suggested from the broad couch. “We all want to take good care of you Zai. Right Tobias?” “Yes.” “You’ll lose your perfect view, pretty boy,” Zai warned him, but he was already rising, leading Sitka by one horn, Tobias following, none of them breaking contact. “I don’t mind.” Jahke half rose, tossed away his clothes, and settled himself amidst a nest of cushions. “I’d rather have you panting in my lap if it’s alright with Tobias. Lie down, Zai.” If he hadn’t been an empath, Zai would have wondered what had happened in the past half hour which had led to the two former humans taking complete control of the situation. Between Jahke’s happy suggestions and Tobias’s manoeuvring of Sitka, Zai found himself lain on his back, a cushion propping up his hips, his head and shoulders in Jahke’s warmly aroused lap and the little faun’s fingers carding gently through his hair and stroking over his short, sharp horns. Sitka settled between his parted thighs and Tobias knelt behind him. Zai wasn’t sure what to do with his hands, hated that he couldn’t reach his husband with his tail, and settled for wrapping the thick ash-furred muscles around his wrists. Self restraint? Tobias asked him silently, his inner voice smirking. You want me shred the fucking sofa cushions? Zai snapped back before falling silent. “You alright there Zai?” Jahke curled over – he was always impressively flexible – and kissed him gently, soft, chaste, completely unlike how Zai expected him to be given the state of the hard cock pressing against his back. “Golden.” “Babe?” It took Jahke a second attempt to secure Sitka’s attention. “You still with us?” “Oooh yeah...” Sitka was watching Zai with an expression Zai had never actually seen on his dark face before. It was the kind of focus and hard desire he associated much more with Kiorl, but Zai knew he would have never trusted his major demon with something like this, no matter how much he liked the guy. If anyone apart from Jahke had suggested what they were about to do, heck, had suggested Tobias do anything at all outside of the privacy of their bedroom, Zai would have sent them scurrying away with a snarl long ago. But Tobias was there, watching him over Sitka’s shoulder, touching him through the big black skinned demon’s hands, and Zai knew he’d give the boy anything he wanted. Unconventional works for us. Zai took a deep, deliberate breath. “Hey Sitka.” “Hey.” Sitka smiled, half bold, half shy. “Fuck, you’re really pretty Zai.” “Be specific Sitka.” Every word Tobias said Zai heard twice, every sensation heightened by having the other empath in his head as well as Sitka’s. “Where’s he pretty?” “Right here.” Sitka’s hand smoothed from his hip down the sensitive flesh of his inner thigh, sweeping up to his arse to press the pad of one thumb over his hole. “So pretty… I never realised you were pink under your fur.” He stroked little circles over Zai’s entrance, his touch almost reverent. “Mmm… I could just look at all you day.” Sitka dragged firm fingers back down his legs, and Zai let his knees fall open at the encouragement. “Beautiful.” Zai was very happy he couldn’t blush, not that it mattered, because Tobias could see inside his head anyway, and he wrapped the hot, squirmy, not entirely uncomfortable feeling in a whorl of his own pattern and swallowed it down. Now you know how it feels. I don’t tease you this much. Zai shivered as Sitka’s fingers pulled him apart again, just to look. The scrutiny was almost unbearable. His cock twitched where it lay along the crease of his hip, and Jahke chuckled softly. “Sitka’s very visual. And you are very beautiful Zai.” The faun stroked delicate fingers over his brow and down his nose. Zai tilted his head to catch a finger between his teeth without pressure. “Some view they must have down there though. How long has it been?” “Couple of hundred years,” Zai replied quickly, making light, “You’d never be able to hack it Jahke.” “Don’t we all know it.” Jahke smiled at Tobias. “He’ll need plenty of prep.” “I have a very high pain threshold-” Zai began, but Tobias cut him off. You’re not making the decisions, remember? Tobias wrapped his arm around Sitka’s waist, pale fingers splayed over his abdomen, and he vanished from Zai’s direct line of sight as he settled himself firmly against the other demon’s back. I’m still here. I know. I just want to feel. Tobias sounded a touch shaky, and Zai didn’t press him. Looking with two sets of eyes is too much. Alright Sweetling. It’s OK. Zai felt the familiar vibration in his mind which echoed Tobias’s pulse, and knew his mate loved him. “Sitka?” “Mmm?” “Touch him for me. Slowly.” Sitka parted his cheeks again, firm thumbs dragging over his velvet short fur and sighed happily at what he saw. Then he smiled – Zai felt the little glow of bliss in his chest – and began to circle his hole with the tip of one finger, pressing but not pushing intermittently, every gesture soft. “Tell me.” Tobias’s command was only half formed, because Zai could feel the way he was speaking to Sitka even if he couldn’t hear the exact words, and he also knew how hard it was sometimes to keep the threads of multiple voices in one’s mind. That Jahke would be able to hear Sitka’s voice was an additional bonus. “He’s so warm. You’re warm.” Sitka’s attention slid back to him, and Zai felt the echo in his mind as Tobias felt everything Sitka was talking about. “And your fur is, like, incredibly soft. And just here.” Zai shivered as Sitka swept a his finger back and forth right by his hole. “Where your fur fades into skin, it’s so silky. I’ve never felt anything like it.” Sitka’s fingertips returned to press more deliberately against him. “Please? Can I?” His voice was almost a whine. “OK.” “Here Sitka.” Jahke reached into his nest of cushions and pillows to come up with a slender bottle of lube, but Sitka shook his head when Tobias spoke. “No. Not lube. Here.” The hand on Sitka’s belly flexed, distracting them all. “Use me.” Sitka knew what Tobias meant because he was in his head, and Zai understood, because the memory of his first time with the man he’d married was vividly seared into his brain, but it took a moment longer for Jahke to catch up. “Really? Are you sure?” “He’s sure.” Zai and Sitka intoned in perfect unison. Zai knew that nothing, not the Prince of Hell wandering in on them himself, could have distracted him from the sight of Sitka pushing two fingers into the half healed bite mark on Tobias’s forearm, breaking the thin scab and allowing the blood to well up once more. Zai loved blood, so did Sitka, but now the ash-furred demon shivered as he watched his friend coating his fingers slowly and deliberately in the fluid. Tobias’s silent whimpers of pain made his cock twitch, staining his fur dark with precum. “Touch him.” It was Tobias’s voice, but Sitka’s lips moved with the words, his onyx gaze intent as he rubbed a final circle around Zai’s entrance before pushing in. “Gods… you’re so tight.” The finger withdrew a little, sunk in again. “That’s amazing.” “I never dreamed I’d get to do this.” Sitka was speaking now, his tone one of devotion and awe. “Never in a thousand years though of how you’d look stretched out and open around my hand. Oh Zai… you’re so beautiful.” Zai gritted his teeth and turned his face away only to be met by Jahke’s soft blue gaze. The faun stroked his cheek, a soothing counterpoint to the intense fire of Sitka’s touch. “Hey. C’mon Zai, it’s OK. We’re all here together for this and it’s OK.” The boy was thinking about how beautiful he was, how good Sitka looked with him, and somehow that was easier to take. Tobias was still watching him in his head too. Zai? I’m good. It wasn’t wholly a lie. The praise hurts. You like hurt. Tobias reminded him silently. Zai knew he didn’t actually need to vocalise the thought about how inflicting pain on Tobias was different from the heated coil which twisted through him every time some damning compliment fell from Sitka’s lips, and he couldn’t anyway because when Sitka pushed in with two fingers slicked with Tobias’s blood, Zai yowled. “Gently….” Jahke reminded them, his voice gently chiding. “I know you can be enthusiastic and careful babe.” “Sorry.” Sorry Zai. Sitka adjusted the angle of his wrist, and Zai let his head fall back into Jahke’s lap with a groan as Sitka fucked him open. “Better?” “Ungh.” “So smooth.” Tobias spoke, Sitka’s lips helpless but to follow along with the words the empath was pressing into his spine. “All supple and close.” Zai moaned. “And so sensitive. You really like Sitka’s fingers in you like this, filling you up… he has nice hands, I’m not surprised.” Zai panted, watching Sitka touch him, his eyes fixed on the intimate way Zai’s body parted and gripped him as he moved his hand. “Can you stretch him, Sitka?” “Yes.” Sitka’s mind flooded with innumerable memories of Jahke – on his back, on his his knees, over his lap – whimpering and panting and being opened up with the same thick fingers which were currently massaging Zai. Zai breathed a laugh, and told Jahke what he’d seen. “Awww, babe...” The fact that such a compliment could still make Jahke blush reminded Zai just how completely in love the boy was with his horned friend. It was adorable. “I bet you can make him moan like I do.” Heat lanced through Zai at the thought, and it was quickly followed by a delicious ache as Sitka thrust his fingers deeper, curling and spreading as he went. Zai gritted his teeth and shut his eyes, choosing like Tobias just to feel instead of seeing as Sitka began to take him apart. He clenched his tail tighter about his wrists, his fingers woven into the thick tuft at the end, keeping him from flailing at nothing. Tobias was murmuring in wonder as he lived through the haptic feedback Sitka was giving him, and adorations fell from Sitka’s lips like autumn leaves until Zai was a shaking wreck in Jahke’s lap. He whimpered. “You’re doing so well Zai. Just a little more.” The copper-salt tang in the air let him know Sitka was lubing him with more of Tobias’s blood. The action made his thighs shake, and Sitka was forced to use a hand to stop his knees from closing reflexively at the next invasion. “Gods, you’re so gorgeous like this.” He curled his fingers up, and Zai bit his own lip hard enough to draw blood. “And you want it so much, your body does.” “It’s OK Zai.” Jahke voice and fingers against his scalp like a balm. “They just wanna hear you moan. Go on.” Zai turned his head, pushed his face into Jahke’s thigh and let out a keening whine as Sitka’s fingers pressed and pressed and bruised at his prostate. He could feel Tobias there, shivering and curious under the other demon’s skin, riding the sensations as Sitka experienced them, splitting him open and watching him as he cried. “Hey...” Touch receded, tension eking out of his limbs as the pressure of Sitka’s hands slackened. A warm dry palm rested against the fur of his abdomen, above the wet and sticky mess his cock had made. “Zai...” “It’s...” Zai’s voice cracked, his throat raw. “It’s a lot.” We can stop. Tobias’s words were soft, just for him, and Zai realised he’d pulled enough of his mind out of Sitka’s to allow them to have a private conversation once more without the black demon feeling it’s echoes. I’ve never seen you cry before. I didn’t know I could. There was no option other than to be brutally honest with an empath. I don’t think I ever have, before. Zai… do you want to stop? Zai took a moment just to breathe, his chest heaving. It didn’t hurt, not physically anyway. He was a bit sore, felt empty in a strange way he didn’t understand but which he knew was normal from experiencing it the other way round through Tobias, but he wasn’t in pain. He drank the scent of Jahke in through his nose, revelling in the simple, slightly familiar warmth of the boy, then forced himself to focus on the place where he could feel Sitka’s pulse against him, hand spanning his inner thigh as his flesh quivered. He looked up, and Sitka was smiling at him, quiet pride marking his features. “I’m OK.” “Yeah?” Sitka tilted his head to one side, and Zai was glad Tobias wasn’t still watching over his shoulder, because he would have ended up with a horn to the face. “You’re fucking stunning you know.” The epithet made the compliment easier to accept. “I’d kiss you, but he won’t let me move. He always this clingy?” “Yes.” Zai watched Tobias’s arm – the only part of him which was visible – tighten around Sitka’s ribs. “He’s stronger than he looks: you’re gonna ache for days.” “Not as much as you will.” Tobias said whilst Sitka’s lips moved soundlessly. Zai shivered. “Oh shit.” Jahke cleared his throat to get their attention, then handed the bottle of lube over to Sitka deliberately. “No arguments this time. Be good to him. Hey Zai, eyes on me.” Jahke beamed as he titled Zai’s chin upward. The noise of the bottle coming uncorked was distinct and loud. Jahke stroked his hair gently. “Can I kiss you?” “You ain’t never got to ask pretty boy.” Zai didn’t actually trust himself to have his hands free, so he waited for Jahke to come to him. The faun did, sweetly, gracefully, his lips plush and warm and delicious. They kissed to the background sounds of Sitka slicking his impressive cock, and then his slippery fingers were back at Zai’s hole, feeling him out gently, stroking and teasing softly until Zai bucked against his hand. “He’s ready.” Jahke sat back and rubbed his fingers across Zai’s lips briefly. “You might want to move your hand Jahke.” Tobias’s voice was incredibly level, but the connection in Zai’s mind was quivering with tension. “He’ll bite you. He won’t mean to, but he will.” I am an aeons old immortal demon. I do have some self-control. We’ll see about that. Tobias sighed in his head, the connected fronds of his pattern glowing hot. Zai shut his eyes, because he couldn’t quite bear to see Tobias’ gaze echoed in Sitka’s vision, and Jahke murmured sweetly without words and petted his hair as Sitka’s hard cock touched him. Sitka wrapped a big hand under one of his legs, hooking Zai’s knee up over his shoulder, dragging him into his lap. Zai forced himself still, tail constricting around his wrists, and felt each half breath punched out of him as Sitka sunk slowly and inexorably into him. Each ridge of his cock caught at his rim as he pressed in, but the sensation of feeling Tobias alongside Sitka’s dark shadow was the sensation which made him snap his teeth and groan aloud. “Fuck...” His chest shook, his heart hammered away somewhere under his ribs feeling untethered, and Zai made an awful broken sort of noise as Sitka drew out of him. “Slow, Sitka.” Tobias’s voice was glassy, an undisturbed and silent sea. “Hold his hip, tighter there. Good. Push back in, deeper. Good. All the way.” Sitka’s lips were moving with the words, but he groaned. “Tell him how he feels.” No. Don’t. It was the only coherent thought Zai could summon, but he knew Sitka wouldn’t have heard him. Tobias’ presence against his mind glimmered, sparkling with authority. Zai’s other leg draped around Sitka’s hip, and suddenly Tobias’s hand was there, real and solid and slightly calloused, fingers wrapped around his ankle. Zai shook for want of crying at the connection. “Zai...” Sitka sounded like he was a mortal at temple, voice earnest in benediction. “Gods Zai, you’re so beautiful. So strong and strung out just lying there for us. Perfect.” The slide of his cock was like punctuation, drawing moans from both of them. “So fucking tight. Tighter even than Jahke- unh. You’re gonna kill me.” Sitka thrust his hips, black skin pressed flush against Zai’s fur, and then he shifted his weight and ground himself deep inside Zai’s tender passage. The empath yowled, choking on nothing, because he was sure he could feel the hard weight of Sitka’s cock in his throat, burning right the way through his body. Jahke’s hands on his face and neck were cool, and Zai was panting, his voice lost. And Tobias was right there under Sitka’s skin, feeling everything the horned demon felt, touching Zai’s body as well as his mind. Zai watched as the boy he loved took his own discomforts, the hang ups about privacy and fears about sex which the others had always put down to him being a little frigid, fed them into the burning core of Zai’s desire and span them into gold. Hold on. With the next hard thrust of Sitka’s hips, Zai reached out with his mind and grabbed the bright coil Tobias had made, pulling it into himself as fast as he could. His vision blurred, his mouth was too dry, his body too open and too full and not full enough, and his spine arched up off the couch as his tail constricted hard enough to fracture his own wrist. He roared. I love you. Zai gasped breathlessly, fought to maintain the connection with his mate, his mind spiralling through the sensations of Sitka’s body moving within him, and came violently, white streaks painting the fur of his chest, the last spurts pooling on his abs. “Zai Zai Zai...” His name was a litany on Sitka’s tongue, a prayer of reverential moans in time with the fast thrusts of his cock, and then he too was shuddering, hands gripping Zai too tight to be comfortable, head hanging low as he flooded Zai with his orgasm. Stay. Tobias commanded. Zai took a deep shaky breath and it came out as a sob. He’d never felt so awfully helpless or so cared for, and the strength of the emotions scared him. I didn’t know I could still be scared. You were always a weird one, his inner voice told him. Yeah, but at least I’m his weird one. Zai panted, but found himself smiling as Tobias’ dark eyes and pale face appeared over Sitka’s bowed shoulders. The big horned demon was still unable to manage anything other than the repeated motion of filling his lungs. Tobias was pink across the cheeks, but met Zai’s gaze with his usual level of adoration and defiance. “Oh Zai,” Jahke purred, fingers running low over his shoulders, though not quite into the mess he’d made of himself. “That was beautiful. Thank you.” “Unnngh… Jahke… has all the… best ideas.” Sitka said eventually, sounding parched. “Fuck.” He glanced up through his sweat damp ringlets at Zai, that the demon saw the whorls of his husband in his friend’s eyes still. “Tobias… I think it might be wise to give Sitka his mind back. Must be getting awful crowded in there.” Zai was shocked that his voice came out so normal, considering he was lying supine between his friends, spread open on Sitka’s cock. “Hey Sitka, eyes up bud.” Second sight allowed him to watch as Tobias retracted the fronds of his pattern, working methodically until his presence slipped out of Sitka’s consciousness completely. Onyx eyes glistened with pleasure, then Sitka slumped as though boneless and collapsed over him. The motion pulled them apart from each other, and both demons groaned in unison. “Fucking hell, Zai… That was...” Sitka’s lips pressed against his sternum, “Amazing. A gods damn epiphany.” “Ha… ah. Thank you.” Zai flexed his bent leg experimentally and winced at the cramped tightness in the muscle. “You alright Sitka?” Tobias asked gently, but Zai felt the boy stroke him with his mind. He leant into the contact, warm and reassuring. “No offence guys, but I’ve no idea how you share your heads with each other all the time.” Sitka grinned over at his mate as he explained. “I could hear them, or half hear them, and feel so much… it was really cool, but I think my brain wants to sleep for a tenday just to recover.” “Before you do that babe, I think you might need to help Zai upstairs.” Jahke laid a firm hand on his chest, stilling his protest. “There’s no one here you need to show off for Zai. Take the help, OK? You too Tobias. He’s all Enforcer muscle, you’re strong but not that strong.” “C’mon then big guy, up you get.” Belatedly, Zai realised he still had his hands tied up, and they all heard the vertebrae of his tail crunch as he unwound the tense muscle. One of his wrists hurt and Zai prodded the fracture with his other hand until Tobias whimpered. Sorry. Just… don’t make it worse, not right now. Zai healed himself, licking at his own fur until the pain was no more than a soft, faded thing like an old bruise, then reached out and allowed Sitka to haul him up into a sitting position, gripping his forearms. “Thank you Zai.” The words rippled with adoration in the same special way people’s voices usually went around Nassau. “It was a pleasure. Truly.” Zai only realised his chest was rumbling with a purr when he felt Tobias’ smile in his head, and he covered his embarrassment at being caught out by cupping Sitka’s jaw and kissing the other demon soundly. Jahke made a happy noise behind him. “I could watch you two do that all day.” He sighed happily. “But I also want cuddles.” “Yeah, yeah.” It was an impressive show of strength which allowed Sitka to scoop him up and stand in a smooth motion. Zai snaked his tail around his friend’s waist. “I’ll be back. Just you sit there looking… well, like that.” Tobias went to collect his fallen clothes and left Jahke with a parting “good game” before following them upstairs. He arrived just as Sitka laid Zai on their bed and Zai was very careful not to laugh as Tobias gave Sitka a very formal handshake before the horned demon departed. “Considering where his hands have just been...” “Don’t be crass.” Tobias frowned at him. “Hey no, don’t get up.” The chef’s hands pushed him back into the bed and Zai went, his spine turning leaden. “I’m not broken. I’m sure you’d rather I bathed.” “And you’re an expert in what I want are you?” You weren’t surprised. “Oh Sweetling… I was very fucking surprised.” Zai half turned on the bed, found Tobias’s hand hovering over him and tugged the boy down, tucking him against his chest. Tobias settled, lips brushing his clavicle, the pair of them in a position to which they had long become accustomed. “Did you enjoy yourself?” “Yes.” Tobias had walls up around his mind, slippery and hard to see through. Zai didn’t try, he knew Tobias would share with him the things he’d felt in time. “It was so strange seeing you like that. You did like it, right?” “Yes, Sweetling.” Zai kissed his hair. “But I think tonight will tide me over for another thousand years or so. Don’t worry.” He curled and flexed his tail, feeling the muscles twitch. “You know I’m fine right? You don’t have to worry over me.” Tobias’ fingers dug hard into his ribs, and Zai grunted in defeat. “You know how often you let anyone anyone take care of you?” Never. Exactly. No one needs your healing tongue right now but me, and I just want to stay here with you and make sure you’re OK. And you don’t get to have an opinion about it. The picture Tobias sent with his words was a bit mixed up, layers of what he’d seen and felt when Zai had been on his back in Sitka’s lap blended with the soft warmth of them together in their bed. Zai breathed a laugh, grabbed a blanket with his tail and flicked it up over their heads. That’s better. Yes Sweetling. “That was really intense.” Tobias said finally, and it sent pleasant shudders down Zai’s spine to hear his voice out loud in the little blanket cave he’d made for them. “Sitka’s head is weird. He just… feels everything right there on the surface. I don’t understand how he’s even sane.” “They’re all like that.” Zai replied. “That’s what Nassau says. All the non-empaths feel everything and aren’t even aware of most of it. You think if any of them stopped to examine their feelings once in while they’d be the way they are now?” “Kiorl’s good at a bit of introspection.” “He’d kill you if he heard you say that.” Don’t ever let him catch you listening Sweetling. “I try not to. He’s so sad.” Tobias snuggled closer to him, arms going around his waist and staying there, fingers woven together. Zai wrapped his tail around the join and felt the way Tobias relaxed, his pattern unfurling and spooling out, but only to the edges of their little nest. It was something only he could do for his mate, a way Tobias was incapable of being around anyone else, and Zai knew he glowed with pride at taking care of his mate. “Do you think they’ll tell?” “Nah. Jahke loves us too much not to keep our secrets, and it would never occur to Sitka to lie. He likes the food.” “Zai...” “Sleep, my love.” “Join me?” Always. Zai yawned, set the tips of his claws against the back of Tobias’s neck, anchoring himself to the warm pulse there, and closed his eyes. He felt, rather than heard, voices from below. “Hey Shindae. You’re back early.” Jahke was beaming, it was evident in his tone. “It’s pretty late. You guys get up to much while we were Upstairs?” “Nah, just read.” “I played.” Sitka strummed his mandolin, the latest in his collection of stolen instruments. “Did you?” “No.” Shindae already sounded interested. Zai smirked privately. “You wanna join us then Shindae?” There were giggles as the lava demon was pulled into their embrace. “It was a nice Earth though, you’d have loved it, Jahke. Boys kissing in public. Someone even hit on Nassau.” “No!” Jahke sounded delighted in his shock. “Brave of them, though.” “Indeed.” Shindae rumbled. “You not seen the lovebirds all evening?” The little faun laughed. “They vanished after dinner. I’ll bet Zai’s been making him scream all evening...” Satisfied that Jahke and Sitka could be trusted with his vulnerability and Tobias's voyeuristic innocence, Zai buried his face in Tobias’s soft hair, filled his lungs with the scent of the man he loved, and allowed himself to fall asleep. He did not dream, and it was good.

I'm glad someone was able to provide the information. I forget to bookmark stories all the time, and when I want to re-read them, I'm screwed. I was just about to post a query about two stories I've been looking for, and it occurred to me to double-check whether I had read them here (duh!). A quick search turned one of them up, and interestingly, the other one is also on this site and was written by the same author! I'm trying to get into the habit now of bookmarking stories as soon as I begin them, regardless of whether I know yet or not that I'll want to re-read them. Re-reading a good story is one of life's great pleasures.

Cernunnos An Unseelie ignorant of even being Unseelie, believing herself human, no less. There was little in his long life which inspired surprise anymore, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t. From across the church square the scent of cedar and lavender had filled his senses, as well as making her an easy mark to be trailed by the goblin. Something primal and instinctive reared its head inside him, it was what had propelled him to pin her against the wall of a church, and it was what drove him now to traipse at their heels through the dark of night. Heading due south from Dublin, they were on course for the city of Bray. A rail line extended most of the way there, a simple enough landmark for him to be able to find, but Ainthe continued to follow the road. Lost as he was in his own thoughts, Cern almost careened into the back of his quarry. Stopping dead in his tracks Ainthe turned to face him. “You’re being quiet. I’ve yet to shut you up, and now you’re suddenly following me in silence.” “Does the wee morsel miss my dulcet tones then? I’m happy to oblige ‘ye.” Even with the hood still covering their face, Cern could practically ‘hear’ when he rolled his eyes, heaving a heavy sigh of aggrieved consternation. “Please, before we waste any more of each others time, tell me why it is you feel this need to follow me despite my numerous and abject objections? Without tricky backhanded banter, ``why me?” His tone was outright pleading. Cern gave him the deserved dignity of carefully weighing his words before giving an answer, the need to answer truthfully compelled from deep within him. The call of the Unseelie made him answer as commanded, unfiltered thoughts tumbling from his lips with a smile. “I find myself bewitched and bewildered by ‘ye, wee morsel. A fascinating fae creature, completely outside of my current purview. Fate has brought me to ‘ye side for a reason.” Cern leaned in closer, snaking his arms out to loop themselves around the trim muscled waist hidden within the folds of the cloak, pulling Ainthe’s body flush to his own. “Breasts or bollocks, it’s no matter to me what form ‘ye don. Maybe ‘ye have fallen prey to my debonair charms finally?” One hand loosed itself from around Ainthe’s waist, pulling back the hood once more that hid his gorgeous features from Cern’s sight. “Stop that!” Swatting ineffectively at the rock hard chest pressed against him, Ainthe glared up into those green eyes. “It’s dangerous to travel uncovered. Not everyone is blessed with raw brawn and blunt like you. I have to be smart if I want to live to see another day.” Cern drank in the sight before him, his heightened vision setting aglow the visage so close to his own. “Did I not tell ‘ye that I would let no harm befall ‘ye? On my honor, at that.” “Such easy words of untested substance. I’ll rely upon my own strengths, they’ve kept me alive thus far.” “If ‘ye deign to enlighten me, is there a purpose to ‘ye journey? As someone of ‘ye unique circumstances, why take the chance of traveling abroad in times like these?” Cern had wholly expected to have his query ignored completely, especially given the delectibly mutinous tilt of his pert chin. “It’s not as though I have a home to go back to. Nowhere to go but forward.” So small and quiet was his grudgingly given answer, Cern almost questioned whether he’d really spoken at all. “How long have ‘ye gamboled about in this fucked up world? Surviving from day to day by ‘ye wits and luck, how long before one of them is bested and ‘ye are snuck by someone like ‘ye green goblin friend back in Dublin?” Indignation reddened those milk and roses cheeks, amber fire glowing in his eyes. “For five years I’ve stayed a step ahead of death’s maw, which is a damned sight better than most people.” Ainthe pushed Cern away roughly, exaggeratedly spinning in a taunting circle in the middle of the dark empty road. “You know, Cern. Remember people? Not too many left nowadays, but I’m still here. So what exactly do I need you for?” With every syllable his voice rose in anger, until he was all but screaming his affront to the surrounding night. Cern attuned himself with the rest of his surroundings, loosing his reined power into the encompassing shadows, doing his best to combat the unwanted attention Ainthe’s tirade was drawing in. There was no help for it then, he’d have to employ subtler tactics if he had any chance of convincing an Unseelie in human clothing of seeing things his way. He held up his hands placatingly. “Aye, five years is a long time to be surviving on ‘ye own two feet in a world gone ta shit. My apologies for doubting ‘ye.” One by one his ruffled feathers settled back into place, and Cern continued in a soft reasonable tone. “Even though ‘ye are no doubt able to handle ‘ye’self, there may yet be a benefit to traveling together. Watch each other’s backs in the dark hours of night, and a bit of added security during the vulnerable daylight hours. Does ‘na sound so terrible, eh?” Cern held out his hand to shake on it, not daring to not so much as breathe as Ainthe turned the idea over and over in his mind. After long minutes of deliberation, he grudgingly reached out to shake Cern’s hand. “Very well, it’s a deal ...Ow!” Ainthe jumped back, glaring at Cern’s hand and the shock like static electricity that had coursed through him. “Tis’ an agreement then, an accord. Shall we then?” Smiling grandly at the confused look on Ainthe’s face, Cern started forward along the road once more, a sullen kelpie close on their heels.

Chapter 49. A light privacy ward surrounded the group, somewhat surprising the newly arrived Realm Lords. "Thank you, Lord Ranevargar. The excitement of the journey and that unexpected descent was surpassed by the most unusual honour guard we have ever experienced. And thank you, Kieran, I am eager to know your thoughts on matters of the Realms, and heartened by this opportunity for some time together." A full round of double wrist clasps took place then, with the assurance of a detailed discussion later, Kieran gave an overview of some of his personal decisions. That done he dropped the privacy ward and deferred to Ranevargar, who gestured the three rulers to meet the companions. "High King, this is Rhys, so aptly designated The Warrior. Without him Kieran would not have been able to manage Lord Maynor. I commend him to you and suggest you make a point of giving him your attention. Be warned, though, he is prone to well-natured irreverence." Rhys almost protested but the High King was already offering the double wrist clasp. "Rhys, I have been anticipating this meeting and I do look forward to any time we can share." A firm double grip, along with an eyebrow lifted in an oh so familiar manner, sent assurance flowing through Rhys. Oh my God! He actually even felt like Kieran. The greeting he'd prepared was gone from his mind so, thoughts whirling, he gave a nod then wondered at the downward glance. "An interesting companion, Rhys. Is this the irreverence Lord Ranevargar warns of?" Wow! This guy’s personality was so strong. Rhys looked for Kieran's reaction but that was just his typical grin. With a new mental double-take he saw an older, more discreet version of the very same grin. Hm! Aglaron knew this was Ranevargar's doing and he was enjoying it. Ha! "Ranevargar’s got a fixation for animals. He's the one being irreverent so you have to be ready for anything ... And I hope we get some time too." Ranevargar blinked and the little pig disappeared. "Greet Woorawa, High King. He met Kieran and Rhys under the strangest of circumstances and instantly befriended them. It was his people who gifted the Realm Stone." The High King gave the clasp, spoke interestedly with Woorawa, did the same for Tan and Mr B, then stood quietly while Lord Uirebon and Lady Narello made their own greetings. Ranevargar pointed past Maurice to the base of the mighty Realm Tree. "My hosts will escort you for a restorative break then we will share some refreshments before we visit our new portal focus." Uirebon's head lifted in query. "Kieran established it yesterday as part of his search for an alternate way to the human world. We are hopeful your searches will help us." "We have made significant headway with the early history of Kieran's Realm, but knowledge of the Portal system is proving elusive." He obviously had more to say but the High King moved to accompany the waiting host elves. Tan was disappointed. "That didn't sound very hopeful, Kieran." Ranevargar answered. "This is as I expected, Tan, but have faith in the diligence and cooperation between Uirebon's scholars." "Cooperation?" "Yes, Woorawa. Every reference, however slight or seemingly inconsequential, will be shared and traced to its source. The process will be slow but I am quite confident that something will eventually turn up." "What's with the piglet? You left it there." "The High King was nervous about meeting you, Rhys, and a smile helped him." "Nervous of me? You said yourself that he’s the strongest elf in all the Realms ... and there’s no way he’s scared of anyone." "He is not scared of anyone, Rhys, but your bond with Kieran gives you a rather unique influence with the only person who does give him concern. He is delighted that you like him though." "I do, too, but how would he know? Is he going into my mind?" "Not without an invitation. He is a master at reading people, Rhys, and you are more open than most." "Lady Narello didn't say much." "Her mind is totally engaged, Mr B. She is keenly aware of how little she knows and hungers for information." "They didn't react to the Panthers as much as I expected." "It didn't show, but they were all exceeding impressed, Mr B, and the High King gave acknowledgement." "It's pretty weird that this is the first time they’ve seen a Panther when you’ve had them for so many centuries?" "They have all seen the Panthers, Rhys, but from afar, and until now they regarded them as just another in my interesting collection of animals and of little importance to their Realms." "Until now?" "Yes, Tan. Close association with the seven Griffins has changed their understanding." Rhys looked to Krol, now crouching close to Maurice, and laughed. "Riding a Griffin would change anyone's understanding." "Indeed, Rhys, but the mental cooperation has been the new and significant experience." "Will it be a problem for you if they understand too much, Ranevargar?" "How so, Tan?" "Well they mightn't leave you alone any more. What if they pester you to give them constructs or want to learn how to make their own?" "Lord Uirebon, in particular, is already wondering how to approach me for all of that. I will be most cooperative." "What does he want to learn?" "Everything he doesn't understand, Tan, and while I will be able to help him with much there will be even more disappointment." "I meant in particular." "That is extensive. Foremost in his mind at the moment is great wonder regarding my constructs, Maurice in particular, and he was intrigued just now to hear that we have established a new Tree Portal." "Ha! I bet they all are, now they can't zap themselves wherever they like." "Will you show him how to make Tree Portals, Ranevargar?" "That will be one of the disappointments, Mr B. I can teach him how to use an existing Tree Portal, but creating his own requires an ability he doesn't possess." "Could he find someone somewhere in the Realms with enough ability to do it for him?" "It is possible but rather unlikely, Mr B. " "Unlikely hey! Trust Kieran to break all the rules. Uirebon will turn green when he finds out it was Kieran who made the new portal." Woorawa laughed. "Not really, Rhys. They’ve seen Kieran do all sorts of special stuff. This’ll be just one more ... What will you do if they ask you for their own Realm Trees, Ranevargar?" "They already have them. You call them Emperor trees." "Could they make them into proper Realm Trees?" "Not at all, Woorawa. They can't develop Tree Managers, and the further change to Portal Trees is beyond them." "Why do they even have the Emperor form then?" "The Emperor form provides a natural focus for the main Portal system." "So that’s why Maynor didn't take Rhys straight to his castle?" "Indeed, Woorawa. He was at the end of his resources and took the path of least resistance." "When will Uirebon be able to tell you what he’s discovered about Kieran's Realm, Ranevargar? He said it was significant." "Yes, that has intrigued me. After demonstrating Kieran's new portal link we have several hours of relatively free time at the Oasis Grove for discussion and relaxation." "Relaxation? That’s a joke! With those high-powered minds Kieran won't be able to relax for a second." "Yes I will, Rhys. When we’ve had a good talk you’re going to tell me it is time for a swim and a relax." "I will? ... Neat idea! I wonder if they’ll join in, or make it an opportunity to talk to Maurice?" "Maurice will be enjoying the Oasis with us." "Wow! I can't wait to see that. Does he even like water?" "I will look to you to teach me the enjoyment I see so clearly in your mind, Rhys." "You big lump! You’ll probably make the Oasis feel like it's all tidal waves." Ranevargar pointed to Aglaron walking briskly to rejoin them. "He didn't wait for the others?" "His mind is focused on Kieran and he is eager to spend as much time as possible with him, Tan." Rhys replied. "Wow! The next few days are going to be interesting." *** "Everyone? Without assistance?" "Kieran continues to surprise, High King. The Realm Trees provide some assistance but he made this translation with his own resources." Aglaron regarded the Realm Trees, the companions, a group of attendants, the Flying Guardian which evidently had some special association with Rhys, and dwarfing them all the curiously named Dragon construct, and knowing the amount of Nexus energy he would need for a similar translation, was sharing his wonder with Ranevargar. "Kieran is driven to become a Portal Master, High King, for the sake of Woorawa and particularly Tan, who yearn for home and family, and his efforts have given him proficiency. When we visit his Realm you will see how he is establishing his own network of Tree Portals to help Maurice." "His own Realm Trees, Ranevargar? I don't understand. Lord Uirebon advised me that Realm Trees are unique to your Realm and require a special type of attention which only you can give." "Until Kieran arrived Uirebon was right. Tomorrow you will observe for yourself how his affinity with life manifests in the response all creatures in my Realm give him." "Affinity for life? That is a family trait, strong in myself, and strong in the Royal Consort. Is it possible I could be trained to the care of Realm Trees?" "Affinity, to some degree is almost universal, Lord Aglaron, and I have noted your pleasant rapport with my assigned Griffins. Ride my mind to understand what is needed." Aglaron, thinking he was already linked, was surprised and then delighted when a strange and wondrous mental vista opened and drew him in. A new link firmed and he realised he was watching Ranevargar and himself from above. His elven eyes registered a group of the ubiquitous, amusing head-bobbing birds and locked on one in particular. "This is curiously disconcerting, to be observing my own observation, Ranevargar, but this is a basic skill." "Indeed. Watch." An invitation flowed to the Joker bird’s mind. Joker birds? Rhys’s name for them? Blossoming eagerness for close association resulted in a swooping flight then pleasure to be perching on a raised wrist. Realisation came. The command he himself would have used had been replaced with an aura of welcome, an aura new to his experience, and one Ranevargar was expecting him to copy. "I can’t do that. I have no basis to make a start." Ranevargar's free hand rested against soft green feathers and Aglaron, sharing a mysterious flow of energy, watched feather-pigment transform to brilliant orange, then after a moment, return to green. "Kieran radiates such an abundance of what your mind understands as an aura, that he actually represses it to reduce the attention it brings. And he is learning to use it rapidly." "He always had a way with animals, but none of his mentors noted anything really unusual about it?" "His Opal is more than a Realm Stone, much more, and I am hoping Uirebon's research will help us with understanding." "The Opal has wrought the changes?" "There is a definite association but the more I see the more puzzled I become. Tonight you will witness a power from beyond the Realms, a power which will hold you in thrall." Wariness surged. "What manner of power, Ranevargar? I am averse to having my mind bound in any way." "Woorawa will dance." Aglaron wondered momentarily if this might be an example of the irreverence ascribed to Rhys? No, Ranevargar’s thought was earnest. "Whatever can you mean?" "There is mystery, such as you have never known, expressed through the grace and power of his movement, My Lord. You will find yourself, as Rhys describes, spellbound." A brief sense of Ranevargar's own reaction to Woorawa's dance came before he continued. "My Lord, it is my belief that a mystery beyond our understanding entered Faerie with Kieran and his companions. Power rests with each of them in a guise appropriate to their nature." "Do you mean the vast power which continually manifested in Kieran's Realm?" "That is Kieran's doing. He worked with Maurice to speed the restoration of his Realm but, apart from the unimaginable quantities, that power has properties akin to our own Nexus. The other powers are different. Woorawa walked through a barrier built by Maurice and froze three of Maynor's Fetches simply by singing. Tan is even more disconcerting. At first, as you have experienced, I thought he had the power to call truth but now I know it is more than that. Rhys had power even before he met Kieran but, in a passing moment, acquired a level of mind to mind speech which takes decades of training for our young to master." "A passing moment? Surely there was something significant involved?" "Yes. I was describing the rapidity of the event, but if I am correct the changes all occurred with Kieran's first summoning of that white power he demonstrated for you and Uirebon." "Uirebon and I were shaken by its puissance and mystified as to its origin." "As am I, High King, and the amount you saw him call for Maurice’s elevation pales against the torrents released for his Realm storms." "You believe the white power confers abilities?" "I do, but only on that singular occasion. I have been present many times when he has called it without experiencing anything except wonder." "Lord Ranevargar, you do reveal wonder upon wonder but what of my son? He is clearly a wonder in his own right but this artificial persona has severed our blood-bond and the new mantle of power and responsibility makes him unreadable. Does he fare well?" Ranevargar passed a rapid assurance to Kieran then built a privacy ward for himself and Aglaron. "Kieran has entrusted me with the task of giving you assurance and enlightenment about all the complications of his situation and intentions." Ranevargar acknowledged Aglaron's puzzlement. "Yes, you would prefer to hear it personally from Kieran, and you will have many opportunities to do just that, but only I know the full story." "Another puzzle?" "No, the outcome of a particular decision Kieran wants you to know and hold private." Aglaron gave instant agreement. "High King, Kieran will live in the human world with Rhys till their time together comes to a natural end. He will then return to the Realms and, with certain provisos, resume his life as Keryth. In the meanwhile he will make visits according to his situation and the re-establishment of the Portal system." Aglaron, understanding the time differential, was impressed. A full and happy century of life for Rhys translated to less than twenty-five years of Faerie time, a blink relatively. "What provisos has he set?" "Currently the removal of his persona would mean the loss of his deep bonds and all his Kieran memories. That is a loss he will not accept, but it is also a loss I am confident we can avoid by studying the conditioning process." "You have that confidence when Maynor holds the knowledge and skill?" "Kieran helped me gather Maynor's knowledge and, with Lord Uirebon's help, I believe we will find a way to assimilate a conditioned persona instead of losing it." "Did you have this knowledge at the Council Meeting? It was by Kieran's command that Maynor cleared Lady Narello of all his manipulation." "Some of it, High King, but the greater part was taken in that private discussion just before Maynor returned to his Realm." "So that was its purpose? Uirebon and I wondered." "There was more. We made it very clear that Maynor should hold to all the Council’s directives." Ranevargar was pleased to see the High King’s instant recognition of a new element. "Both of you? That was not apparent at the time." "Your son wields great strength, High King, but he lacks knowledge, and it was my long experience as a Realm Lord that helped him counter Maynor and guide the Council." There was a long pause. "This explains many things, Ranevargar, but why the misdirection?" "When the extent of Maynor's manipulation was first discovered there was no other course. We faced a strong probability that Kieran's standing would be rejected by the Council." "Reject my own son? He ended the Challenge I was losing and restored a Realm." "You ordered his conditioning." "... Yes, I see ... For all you knew High Council could have become a scene of conflict." "The potential was there, as evidenced by Lady Narello’s actions, but we were well prepared. Kieran had us uniquely shielded and Maurice was augmented and ready to intervene." "The Dragon was augmented?" "He is not invulnerable. Without Kieran's assistance the breaching of Maynor's Wards would have destroyed him." Aglaron paused for thought once again. "Lord Ranevargar, I am fully thankful for everything you have done but this indicates it was your will and wisdom directing the higher Council and, I suspect, guiding Kieran's actions. It also confirms Lord Uirebon's recent conjecture that you have been hiding knowledge and wisdom behind a mask of age and failing strength. Now you reveal yourself?" "Yes, High King. Kieran and I discussed this at great length and we are persuaded that you will respect my wish for isolation and apparent disregard for matters outside my Realm." "Persuaded has a curious force to it?" "Yes, a consequence of the very powers we have been discussing. Kieran and I didn't see it ourselves, but Maurice recognised its unusual nature and carefully observed the detail of Tan's interaction with you three Realm Rulers. We regard your willing promise of respect and friendship as a truth calling, and more than enough reason to give you trust." "Lord Ranevargar, not only will I respect your wish, I will subtly cultivate it throughout the Realms. I am puzzled at how such a given applies with Kieran." "Mr B will remain a companion, but chose to do so without knowledge of his deep Widderkin bond. Kieran and Rhys made the same choice and asked for your trust in not revealing it." "Of course, but what of Lord Uirebon and Maynor?" "We trust Uirebon. Maynor will forget." "He will?" "Maurice and I will make a visit. As things stand, Kieran's persona is keyed directly to Maynor's mind and we need to transfer that to Maurice for safekeeping." "I wondered how Kieran would resolve the dilemma with Pethron. You advised him?" "Only that he should discuss it with Rhys. He had already spoken with Mr B by the time we shared our thoughts." "He wishes to formalise this trust with me?" "He wishes to offer trust on a personal level because, though he his memories tell him otherwise, you are his father." Ranevargar dismissed the privacy ward and indicated all the enquiring looks. "Kieran is ready to transport us to the Oasis Grove." ***

Welcome to the final installment of Ask an Author. Yep, you read correctly. I’m out of questions, so unless I get a few new ones, there will not be a December blog entry. In the meantime, a member sent in a query for several authors. "Which is harder to write and why... short stories (so much has to be crammed into so little space) or a chapter story (so much research to get it right, like CJ and his environs or Donny and Louis in Mikiesboy's Changes & Changes Again?) @Carlos Hazday Unless it’s a throw-away flash piece, writing a short story’s harder than some chapters in a multi-installment story. Part of it, as you mention, is the need to cram so much into so few words. Just because it is short does not mean it should be incomplete. Leaving certain blanks to be filled in by readers’ imagination, does not absolve authors from the need to provide a beginning, a middle, and an end. Even when creating a slice-of-life tale, the need for a structure remains. If not, a shopping list could be considered a short story. Now, there’s an idea for a prompt. Anyone interested in writing a flash piece with ‘The Shopping List’ as the title? A chaptered novel or novella is definitely more difficult than a short story; mostly because of the time required to research, write, and edit. You ask us to compare an individual chapter within such a tale to a short and in many cases those can be easy. Every long tale has a rhythm; some chapters are full of action while others not so much. Those slower chapters can be easier to create. Giving readers a break from non-stop action allows us to write atmospheric chapters. A quick glance at past events, location descriptions, or small romantic interludes can round out the story and provide the breathing space needed before plunging back into the maelstrom. @Mikiesboy Which is harder to write and why? Wow, okay, let’s see. They are not really comparable; they are two different things altogether. It’s a skilled author who can write a good short story and that’s not just my opinion. Anyone who wants to or thinks they can write, should start with short stories (yes, Virginia, there are always exceptions to any rule). They help you learn plotting; help you find your voice and style. They will help you develop the skill you need so you can write that novel you want to write. Okay, this isn’t answering the set question. Short stories normally have one main character and plot, while novels have more and may have a number of subplots. Short stories are not shrunken novels yet they must have a beginning, middle/climax and end/twist. To me a short story should be around 7,500 words or it’s drifting into novella territory. That’s a chapter in some novels. Novels, though, should not be long rambling things that go on and on just to raise the word count. Unnecessary words, subplots, and the continued introduction of new characters, show up very quickly. They muddle things. Long descriptions, and character’s mental diarrhea (in other words, a lot of Telling) make your novel a long trip to Dullsville. But novels let you show your world to the reader, up close and personal. So, which is harder? The answer is both, each have their own personality, and needs. Each must be written differently, if they are to work. @AC Benus Right now I’m tackling a new genre of book, and the research needed to do an historical murder mystery is driving me insane! Well, okay, it’s not that bad, but it takes a lot of time. However, is an honest to goodness Short Story any easier than a novel? The two are not scalable. A novel can’t be boiled down without harm, and a Short Story cannot be “padded out” to 20 chapters without losing its soul. Both require individual types of inspirations. Short Story inspirations are probably rarer, which makes GA’s writing prompts such a valuable asset. Keeping in mind that real Short Stories should have twists at or near the end, one can look over the posted prompts and see if anything sparks. Once the idea comes, a Short Story can be organized and written in a few days. For me, it’s all about the drive to get it out. There is almost a kinetic buildup, and the story itself should flow easily if you are ready to write it. With novels, first and foremost, novelistic elements should be present. I guess these are unexpected turn of events as well, but very large-scale ones. Think of Oliver Twist. The boy runs away to London, and through some accidents, is eventually placed in very home of his dead mother, with his grandfather and aunt. Fate has stepped in, and we as readers – just like Twist himself – know nothing about this till the very end. Novels can do these things very well, where in Short Stories, they seem artificial. The why of it is, novels offer more room to explore and develop people, situations and relationships. But they take more time to plan and write. So, it is easier to get started on a novel, but easier to finish a Short Story. That is my backwards conclusion @northie Well, there's something to make me think. In my case, a 'short story' can be anything from micro-fiction (under 50 words) through to a tale that stands on its own but has in excess of 10,000 words. As you might expect, both extremes have their separate challenges as well as some similarities. I regularly post flash fiction pieces on my external blog, written to one or more prompts, which have to be 750 words or under. The prompts are posted on a Saturday; the entries have to be in by the following Wednesday. Finding an idea that fits exactly into the word limit is key. There's enough space to tell a complete story with all the components you'd expect, but it must be focussed, and pared back to the essentials. I have a chequered history in this respect. One of the worst comments you can receive is 'This is a great start'. It's difficult to let go of an idea when it can't be made to fit, no matter how many words I excise. Writing such a piece is an excellent discipline in being concise, showing, not telling, yet coming up with something that grabs a reader's attention. At the other end of the scale, finding a story to fit is still key. Yes, the canvas is larger, allowing more detail, conversation, and depth. However it must leave the reader satisfied that the story is complete: no hanging threads, no redundant characters. It has to gather momentum throughout, with little room for diversions. Questions might still remain – that's OK. Sometimes it's good to leave people wondering about what happens after the conclusion. I have much more experience in stand-alone shorts than ongoing stories. That said, my two chaptered stories are where I feel my learning is more apparent. One thing I wrote early on in my writing career was the first chapter of Never Too Late. Here I am, a little over two and a half years later, preparing to close the second volume. That story in particular documents what I've learnt. Quite apart from my increasing technical knowledge, this is where I've discovered story and character arcs. And becoming so wrapped up in my principal characters, they talk to me; direct the story almost. That depth of characterisation means I have to spend much more time discovering just who they are. You can't get away with the outline sketch that serves for a flash piece. The locales are another matter. I started out in Eric's story not naming anywhere; in a way the intimacy of the first few chapters doesn't make this a problem. Gradually it became more of an issue; this combined with my increasing confidence meant that when the second volume began posting, most places are named except for his home town. Yes, they're real places and what I describe bears some resemblance to reality. To come back to your original question of which is more difficult – my answer would be neither. Written properly, both long and short stories should challenge authors. I know they do me. @Geron Kees I have to say that I don't see much difference between short stories and longer ones, other than the time involved in creating them. I usually write long stories, anyway. I have written some stories that were planned as chaptered tales from the get-go. I don't think there is more planning for a long tale than then a short one. I research subjects as I need to while moving along, so while it does require more research for something longer, there is no more planning involved, because I start with an idea and simply create the balance of the story as I move along. I know some writers plot out the whole tale before they start, but I don't do that. So I'll have to say that neither format is more difficult, and that one just takes longer than the other. If anything, very short pieces are hard for me, because I generally wind up with more ideas I want to add, and have to stop myself before it gets out of hand. That’s it for now. I hope someone hears my cry for help, and we get to visit again next month.

“What can I tell him?” Jakob looked up over the rim of his cup of tea at his husband. When the two came back to the store-room and read the completed analysis of Harman’s genome, they had to admit they weren’t as surprised as they could have been. Vague hints had been in the hidden files on the Mini-Colossus, but to have concrete numbers and code sequences was another matter. In some ways it hadn’t been a revelation at all because most humans’ DNA contained traces from earlier species as a matter of routine, but Harman’s percentage was nearly twice that of what others genetic profiles contained…and the mix of these two particular strains ratios were not random; further, the ovum used was not one from the stocks Ernst had used in his own labs. The Daedalus Foundation was still at work researching and apparently tinkering with the human genome in new ways, but how far they had gone since Ernst’s day and the present was unknown. Was it just a way for otherwise sterile parents to insure their family’s survival into the future? Simple protocols existed for procreation, and off Earth repairs could be made to damaged gene sequences, but this went beyond that into the realm of actually creating something new. As the ‘Father’ of the Neo-Neanderthal species, Ernst-Karl couldn’t claim any moral high ground without being hypocritical, but he hadn’t altered the basic human genetic structure to do what he’d done. Harman Halveg had been designed from the start for certain ends, at present unknown, but he was still human…so why did Ernst feel uneasy about the whole situation? In the end he had to admit that it wasn’t the boy himself, but what else might have been done by the Foundation that concerned him. Perhaps another reason was that this involved his own brother’s lineage; if Hartmann’s children had been the usual mixing of random genes with a minor amount of repairs, would he have been so worried? He didn’t think so. And why hadn’t Hartmann come to him for help? No, there were still a lot of unanswered questions about what his brother had been planning before his untimely death, and Ernst-Karl was beginning to think that the mystery surrounding Harman’s genome might be the least of them. He thought back to the message he’d found in the file Two-Sapphire had sent from Luna that began this adventure. Hartmann had stated his wish for a family to carry on his name, but was that all? He decided to call up that file again. ‘…Genetic Authority would not sanction my plans for a family…have begun research that will combine both my dreams: one for a family, and the other to go to the stars…’ “I don’t understand,” Jakob said while looking over his mate’s shoulder at the file playing on the computer’s holo-screen. “Why should his descendants going to the stars involve any genetic engineering? It’s all technical development into propulsion and materials now…” “And that, dear Jake, is the $64,000 question,” Ernst said using an ancient line from a pre-holo television game show popular more than a century before their birth. Among other things than movies, Hartmann had had an interest in those early programs that purported to test the knowledge of the contestants to obtain prizes or monetary compensation. All of them had been astounded at how much some of these people contained in their heads without the aid of artificial aids like commlinks or even basic internet. Neither man could remember the number of times they’d had to do a search for information on the answers, particularly on cultural questions, and some of the scientific answers left them laughing at that era’s limited grasp of what were today even basic principles. Jakob frowned, not at the use of the phrase, but at the reminder that there was still a mystery to be solved that seemed to defy their attempts to unravel it. The discovery of the hidden files meant the task had become infinitely more difficult. “I think we ought to move to another angle of this, and leave the specifics of your nephew’s lineage to one of the ‘bots for now.” “How so?” “Well, all these files could be searched and summarized far quicker by proxy than doing it ourselves…and we could delve into the other clue—the mysteriously defunct yet seemingly still active Daedalus Foundation. It might take a bit longer on this machine than a modern one, but not by much….” Ernst spun his chair around and pulled his husband down into a quick kiss, then back to face the workbench. “I’ll set up the parameters now, then we’ll go to our office and start tracing the history of our elusive Foundation.” The redhead’s fingers made small, quick movements in the air in front of him that were converted to symbols on the 3-D screen of the Mini-Colossus. He could have opted for vocal commands but found this method more accurate since he didn’t have to name any unusual characters for the database to interpret. Ten minutes later, he rose from the chair and followed his partner out to the more welcoming area of their apartment. “One thing, E…where was that last vid of Harman’s parents sent from? That could give us a place to start looking for our quarry.” Ernst shook his head. “Unfortunately, no. It was sent from the family’s private cabin in Karelia, and then to the Compound in Finland. There had been a Foundation branch there when I was doing my work on the ‘thals, but it closed down when I left Earth for Luna…and ultimately here to join you when you began the terraforming project.” “And it couldn’t have re-opened once you were gone…?” Ernst paused when his brain registered that thought, but then he shook his head sadly. “With the Genetic Authority becoming increasingly strident and breathing down their necks? I doubt it—especially if they’d already banned my brother’s plans for becoming a father.” The men took seats at the flat-topped desk in their joint office, but hadn’t yet queried the built-in display. “That leaves us with other branches, then, E…I’m fairly certain that none of the Martian settlements had any, so that just leaves Luna.” “Or perhaps a secret base in the Belt where Hartmann could have easy access from Ceres,” Ernst suggested. Jakob shook his head. “I don’t think so; three centuries ago there were only a few scattered research stations beyond the Asteroid Belt: one orbiting Europa in the Jupiter system, an automated one orbiting Titan, and the shipyard Hartmann built near Neptune for propulsion research…” “…that we know of…” Ernst said with a grin. “Who knows what some of the old corporate syndicates did once space flight became cheaper and easier? And don’t forget that we’re still finding things that were reported destroyed, such as the robot that climbed Sky-Hook to get me.” “My money’s still on Luna—there’s a lot of it we haven’t actually explored on the ground,” Jakob shot back, giving his husband a similarly provocative smile. “Remember all those early photos that ‘experts’ swore showed alien constructions there? Didn’t one of the early settlers claim to find a site with signs of rock cutting in some cavern or tunnel?” Ernst-Karl snorted. “Aliens—we’ve been searching for signals since the mid-Twentieth, and found nothing that couldn’t be covered by natural phenomena. And of the early probes we sent out to the nearest likely stars, not one has found a planet that supports our type of life at any sort of technological level.” “We’ve only gotten reports back from a quarter of those…some are still not due, and others that should have reported back are silent. What if they found, or were found by someone who wanted to be left alone? “And as for the old SETI programs, don’t get me started! As big, and as old as the universe is, maybe another civilization isn’t close enough for us to get a signal yet? And it’s absolute arrogance to think that an older culture would even still use radio as a system of communication. I’m sure they’ve found faster ways we can’t begin to understand, let alone detect….” “I’ll grant you those points, Jake, but no one has found any definitively artificial proof that aliens have ever been to Earth—or Luna. Those ‘cuttings’ you spoke of were likely natural faults in the rock faces. Cydonia’s ‘Face’ was just weathering and shadows, and if there had been something on Luna, then it’d still be there as there’s no weathering without an atmosphere.” Jakob was going to say something more, but Ernst cut him off. “And don’t go on about ‘lost civilizations’ on Earth! We know much more now about early migrations than they did in the Twentieth, and yes, many traces were lost when the glaciers retreated…but no one has found any technological finds from pre-Ice Age cultures that could have gone off-planet—so that ends arguments about your lunar hypothesis and the ‘henge’ on Mars. It was a natural rock formation similar to the Externsteine in the Teutoburg Forest in Germany before our current organizational lines were drawn.” Jakob waved a hand in dismissal, which he knew irritated his mate intensely. Both shared a romantic outlook in many things, but Jakob’s was tied to flights of imagination, while Ernst’s was bound more to his feelings for his husband. They’d long ago agreed to disagree on certain topics, and this was one of them. “This is all beside the point—we need to find our secretive Daedalus foundation, not while away the hours with idle speculation….” Ernst growled under his breath. “I hate you, Jakob Sommers.” “I hate you more, Ernst-Karl Hallbach…” They pulled their chairs closer and bent over the display which now showed a stylized logo of the Three Worlds, Earth on the left, a terraformed Mars on the right, with a smaller Luna between and slightly above the two larger worlds. “Let’s start with the last date you used the Foundation in Finland, then trace the records forward from there…” “Don’t forget subsidiary companies, suppliers and delivery to the branches…maybe even tax and employee records for the major scientists—they might have been moved to associated firms doing similar work,” Ernst pointed out helpfully. “This will take hours, you know…serious data-mining across at least two of the Three Worlds’ systems. It’s fairly straight-forward so we can use one of the pre-built avatars now that we’re on a modern network.” “Make it so,” Ernst quipped in a decent simulation of one of their favorite pre-holo programs about space exploration. His commlink supplied the name ‘Patrick Stewart: Capt. Jean-Luc Picard: Star Trek Next Generation’. The gesture Jakob made with a free hand needed no data search to interpret. * * * * * * * * * * Given the sheer amount of data flowing through the byways of any network on a large scale, searches can take quite a long time in computer terms, but still only minutes in human-time. Add to that fact a near infinite multiple when those systems are scaled up to a planetary, or interplanetary complexity, and it’s not surprising that some events can go unnoticed unless very specific searches are done. Such was the case involving the genomic events concerning one Harman Halveg. Little or nothing is ever truly lost on data systems unless deliberately erased, but not setting parameters properly can amount to the same thing. In a similar fashion, acquiring information that is intended to be kept secret is also a matter of luck or uncommon exactness in establishing keywords that will trigger such data to be sent to an anonymous eavesdropper. Automated searches are often done quite innocently, but results vary based on the algorithms used in conducting the search—better ones produce better data, and the best designed ones are meant to do this work quickly and unobtrusively. Since computer networks first existed, there were those whose sole aim was to access areas and information that was meant to be kept secret from all but a very few individuals. Those who broke into these areas for profit were called spies; those who did it for the thrill of it called themselves hackers. Hartmann Hallbach had been a gifted hacker as well as an intellectual prodigy, and he’d developed ways to hide those things he wished to be kept secret, and other ways to crack the systems others used to keep their own files hidden. One of his most basic achievements had been a passive ‘listener’, a bot which blended into the data-stream around it, doing nothing unless activated by certain cues, and then taking note of that information which would be sent at irregular intervals to the people who had deployed it. Another linked action would be to trace the source of the query for this data so that too, could be sent to the proper controllers. The efficiency of these hidden listeners depended on what was done with the results; with the complexity of the Three Worlds networks, a human overseer would be quickly swamped, so only the highest priority alerts reached the eyes of an actual person, the vast majority were analyzed by other computers and filed away or handled routinely in the background. Casual searches involving Hartmann Hallbach or his family were common enough to draw no attention unless they went beyond the scholastic inquiry level—there was no cause for alarm if a kid was looking up data for a school report, after all. Even inquiries into genetics was no real problem with Ernst’s involvement in creating the neo-Neanderthal species. Add the different spelling of Harman Halveg into this mix, and you begin to understand why the initial reports about him went unnoticed…nothing of importance to note until the Triad Board’s computer system in Tycho Deep went down unexpectedly, apparently triggered by a simple genomic profile analysis. That event, closely followed by another request by a private geneticist in Tycho, brought the matter to a top-level analyst, who sent it up the chain of command until it crossed the desk of the one man who could put it all together. Even then, a picture could be incomplete if that person lacked all of the pertinent details…as was the case in this instance. Assumptions were made using the information at hand, and some of them were, quite frankly, wrong. Being such an important part of some of the late scientist’s plans, he’d assumed he was privy to all of them. Hartmann Hallbach, being an addict of antique culture, had subscribed to the old axiom ‘Don’t put all your eggs in one basket...’ Why limit yourself to a single scheme to secure a result when two might double the chances of success? No reason at all, he’d decided, and begun the Finland Option as a less-likely, but still viable way to achieve his goal of becoming a father. Matthias Joossens had never heard that phrase, and thus knew nothing of Harman Halveg’s existence until he read the alert on his vidscreen. Who was this kid?

The snow was still lingering in icy patches when Henry made his first trek of 2005 up the Domstrasse hill to his Eastnet office, making his return to work with some internal relief. It wasn’t so much that he’d not enjoyed the holidays. He was just oppressed with the sense there were things that badly needed doing. It was fine weather and the haziness of the view back over the Nuevemesten indicated that the temperature was planning to ascend well past zero Celsius for the first time in several days. There had been no new snowfall since he left Zenda. He was eager to get back to grips with his several projects, and his encounter with Marek Toblescu at Lisztomania had indicated there was some catching up to do. As he toiled up the hill past Kral’s tourist emporium and remembered the handsome face and lithe figure of young Julius Lucic, whom he had once encountered on the pavement there, Henry recalled another loose end: the case of Radek Lucic and his alleged complicity in Communist state repression. He must catch up with that question, which his instincts had found an unlikely one. Though Henry had learned to his cost that personal impressions can be misleading and were not to be trusted uncritically, still his observations of Radek Lucic, the Staroman of Strelzen, had left him dubious about the charges against him. Yet the police believed they had enough evidence to prosecute, as had the examining magistrate who issued the indictment. Henry was still brooding on the problem as he crossed the small square called Sint-Lucaszplaz, on which the Strelsenermedia offices fronted. Several colleagues greeted him as they reached the glass doors and he spent a little time catching up with them in the foyer about Christmas and New Year. The receptionist caught his eye. ‘The Herr Baron would like to see you in the conference room, Herr At-vood.’ ‘Oh? I had nothing in my diary, Sonya.’ ‘Nevertheless, if you have a half hour he wants you there as soon as you’ve taken your coat off.’ Henry made his way upstairs, dropped his shoulder bag and coat in his little office, and found Will Vincent nursing a coffee mug next door at the conference table. ‘Morning. Glad to have you back, Henry. I’ve been under strict orders not to bother you over the holiday period.’ ‘Ed?’ ‘Exactly. But now you’re back and we have a lot to do. This month is when we begin organising the Song for Rothenia heats. Your crew have slacked off a bit without you to motivate them, which is an interesting discovery.’ ‘What is, boss? ‘That someone so unintimidating can be quite the slavedriver.’ Henry adopted a wounded look. ‘It’s a talent I have. I’m so pathetic they’re afraid I’ll burst into tears. The embarrassment would be so much that they just put that little extra effort in.’ ‘Hmm. Not convinced. But I’ll find out your secret one day.’ ‘Would you believe it was something I picked up in reserve officer training classes at Alfensberh?’ ‘Are you suggesting the Rothenian officer corps counts passive-aggression as a desirable command trait? Don’t answer that. The other thing is your hunch about North Martzfeld. Anything to report?’ ‘No, boss. But Marek is bursting to show me his spreadsheets, so maybe I’ll have some news for you by the end of today.’ *** Having spent most of the morning catching up on his e-mail backlog, Henry was ready by lunchtime to think of something other than Eurovision 2005, or even the impending delights of Marek’s files. He was still meditating on and off about Radek Lucic and his supposed career as an Okranske Dienst informer in the communist Rothenia of the 1980s. To get rid of the itch in his brain he did what he knew he had to do to regain peace of mind: talk to someone about it. He tapped out the Residenz number and asked to be connected to the king’s chief of staff, but Oskar, count of Modenehem, was unavailable. So he left a message to ring him back. Then he called the administrative offices of the Senate and raised Leon Gratzke. ‘Hello, Henry!’ the hearty voice greeted him. ‘Is this about my entry for Song for Rothenia.’ ‘You should seriously apply, Leon. I can pull strings.’ ‘How can I help, young man?’ ‘It’s about something you mentioned last year when we were having lunch at the Kirchehaus. You remember when you were targeted by a dirty tricks brigade who thought they’d dragged up some marital dirt on you?’ ‘How can I forget?’ ‘I just checked my notes of the conversation, and you also said that they pretended to have a file on you as an informer in the old Horvath days.’ ‘Not quite, Henry. I don’t recall saying it had been in the time of Horvath. The allegation said my ORD connection was supposed to have been in the final corrupt years of the Second Republic, when that fool General Wiseczstejn was president-chairman.’ ‘Oh! That’s odd. Did you ever see the evidence that was presented?’ ‘My lawyers have copies of what the paper sent to me on file still, why?’ ‘What date was the ORD file on you supposed to have been made?’ ‘I think 1988.’ ‘Did your lawyers ever run a check on the material?’ ‘They didn’t need to. The allegations about my extramarital affairs were so brazenly inaccurate that the Ruritanischer Tagblatt dropped the whole package hard enough for you to hear the clunk as far as Glottenberh. What are you thinking?’ ‘Well, the same sort of files of the same sort of date have been used to target Radek Lucic. I hadn’t made the connection, because my faulty memory misled me. But now I’m seeing a pattern.’ ‘Sorry Henry, you’ve lost me.’ ‘I’m not sure I know where this is going myself, but can you get me a copy of the file used against you? I promise you another fine lunch in the Kirchehaus when I’ve put the story together in my mind.’ Senator Gratzke readily agreed. Henry stared at the wall for a while, but the itch was now scratched and he could turn his mind to another non-Eurovision concern. *** Marek was waiting in the foyer, bundled up in an ageing ex-military parka with a thick file under his arm. ‘Why’re we going out, boss?’ ‘Well, my young apprentice, it’s a feeling I have that you’re going to tell me things which perhaps ought not to be overheard. Or at least I hope so. So we are going to have a nice lunch out. Someone just reminded me that I’ve not been to the Kirchehaus am Domshorja down the hill for a while. Their salads are quite something.’ ‘Yuk. Rabbit food. I’m a true son of Ruric the Barbarian, me. Gimme meat, red and dripping.’ Henry chuckled. ‘They do this new thing with pulled pork and barbecue sauce in a baguette. Perhaps that’ll satisfy your inner savage.’ The two young men strolled out on to the Domshorja, just as the cathedral bells rang out for midday. ‘So how did it go with Anjelka last week?’ ‘We parted friends, but maybe not as friendly as I’d have liked.’ ‘You didn’t wake up together, you mean?’ ‘Nah. That wasn’t really on the cards. Just as well for her too; my digs are disgusting, me and the guys live like pigs. But we had a good night out in Lisztomania. Who knows? She might come into my orbit again some time and think kindly of me. So this English guy you were with last Wednesday night. David …?’ ‘Skipper. An old school friend and sometime companion in mischief. He’s in the music business, as you may have picked up.’ ‘Right. So he was professionally interested in Starcrossed?’ ‘Ten seconds after the kid started singing he was. What did he call him? “The Mozart of pop”. That was it.’ Marek was struck by the phrase. ‘That’s good! True too. I get chills when I hear him.’ ‘Just out of curiosity, do you have a copy of his album?’ ‘I did, but some git lifted it from my bedroom. Either that, or it’s still in there and lost in the floor debris. Why d’you ask?’ ‘They seem to be collector’s items, that’s all. Davey told me I’m too tone deaf to appreciate him.’ ‘I more or less wore it out while I had it. Yet it was still as fresh the hundredth time I heard it as the first. That’s rare.’ They found their way down the lanes to the Fenizenkirche and the welcoming warmth of the Kirchehaus, which was already filling up. Just as warm was the greeting of Herr At-vood by name and with smiles. Marek looked about him with interest after they were seated, not just at the display of shining copper kitchenware and the country-style tables, but the pert and attractive young waitresses. ‘I don’t get out much to eat. It’s too expensive in the big city.’ He flapped his folder on a corner of the table not occupied by menus and the fragrant bread baskets that had appeared with them. ‘So, boss, I have all my figures and stuff, but I don’t think you’ll want numbers and calculations.’ ‘Just the totals, Mareczu. You know me by now.’ After a pause to order drinks and the main course, during which Marek was utterly charming towards their waitress in a way that made Henry suspect the boy was after more from her than just table service, his temporary aide resumed. ‘It’s been an education, I have to tell you. Fun too. I mean, I never thought this sort of thing could be fun, but it is. Here boss, take a look at this flow chart, which I will call chart number 1. These are all the property holding companies involved in the Sixth District and Martzfeld developments, right? They’re sorted into a hierarchy I was able to devise with the help of your friend from the Ruritanischer Tagblatt, and as you can see a large bunch of them have an apex with a question mark; that’s because when you track upwards, you finally end up outside Rothenia. ‘Now these are the building contractors: chart number 2, okay? They don’t arrange into any obvious hierarchy, and the majority of them are established local firms. But what I’ve done is organised the boxes which represent the companies by estimated share of the overall work based on declared company profits. Now take the big three by this calculation and make lists of executive and non-executive directors, okay? Here’s where the same names turn up in the property companies, and as you see the same non-executives are all also to be found in the dominant hierarchy here.’ ‘So what are you saying, Marek?’ ‘Well boss, I guess I’ve not found out-and-out wrongdoing as yet, but I have found a controlling interest across the board in both arms of the development, construction and property. It’s pretty evident that this cabal secured the bulk of the property and allotted the building contracts mostly to companies they themselves controlled, no doubt on preferential terms. You’d never notice this if you looked at the individual companies actually holding the properties. But if you move to the next level, that’s where it suddenly becomes obvious, and it’s at that level that names of the directors of the construction companies also appear on the lists of the property holding firms. And the level above that – that’s where we get names that’ll interest you.’ ‘Names like?’ ‘Well how about Antonia Carluccio for starters.’ ‘Who?’ ‘Otherwise known as the Baroness Staufer von Ebersfeld. And, perhaps needless to say, she and the rest of the cabal are heavily committed to the planned North Martzfeld project.’ *** As soon as he was back in the office, Henry was on the phone to Herr Dr Rolf Abentauer of the Ruritanischer Tagblatt. ‘Well Henry!’ the plummy voice eventually replied. ‘Not a surprise. Indeed I was expecting to hear from you before the holidays.’ ‘I was kidnapped and held prisoner in a castle.’ Laughter greeted this sally. ‘So I hear! That nice young man of yours is quite a find. A forensic mind wasted in the Strelsenermedia accounts department, in my opinion.’ ‘Mine also, Rolf. I hadn’t realised you two were working quite so close together. When did this start happening?’ ‘Jealous? In exchange for my detailed seminar on property transfer and development in Rothenia young Marek felt obliged to share his increasingly fascinating spreadsheets, and naturally I had my own observations to add and suggestions to follow.’ ‘Now look here …’ ‘Tsk, Henry. Are you about to weigh in on me about journalistic ethics? I wrote the book on it. I have formally cleared this as a joint Tagblatt-Eastnet investigation with my executive editor. All I need for you to do is to go to Tomas and get him to agree. I think he will. There’s the potential here for Eastnet to advance to the front ranks of international journalism, don’t you think?’ Henry harrumphed. ‘Maybe.’ ‘It was beyond your resources. I think a bit of graciousness on your part is in order. There was never any intention of stealing this story from under your nose.’ Henry sighed. ‘I knew that, Rolf. Still, it was my baby.’ ‘You have a nursery full of them at the moment, so I hear. You could do with the help. So get Tomas to agree, and second the boy Marek full-time to your news division. If you don’t we’ll offer him a post here. It’ll be your loss.’ When he had hung up, Henry ruefully admitted to himself that Rolf had been right. He had too much on his plate, with the Song for Rothenia team already chafing to get stuck in. He’d been clinging to the Martzfeld story as a way of escaping the other, less attractive, priority with which he had been saddled by the EBU. So back to the song and dance act. Still, there was at least one avenue he could explore on his own. This business about ORD informing in the 1980s: that was one story that was his. Once again he tried to raise Oskar von Tarlenheim at the Residenz. *** Yuli was unsettled in his mind as he and Willem crossed the Arsenalsbrücke and met the loitering figure of Bolo. They exchanged grunts, all three rather preoccupied, though for different reasons. For Willem and Bolo, it was the impending assessment season for their baccalaureates. For Yuli it was principally how he would feel when he once again connected with his long-absent and uncommunicative boyfriend. As he had predicted, Roman had not appeared at last week’s choir rehearsal at the Hofkapelle, but he did not doubt that he would arrive at Sudmesten Central for the new semester, too much depended on it. A strange mixture of emotions, sweet and bitter alike, surged through his heart when he first caught sight of that familiar face, pensive as Roman was struggling to fit an over-stuffed backpack into his locker in the senior year study suite. He came up on Roman unobserved. ‘Need some help, Romesczu?’ Worryingly, Yuli had a moment of mental doubt as he added the ‘zu’. But Roman’s beautiful face beamed like the sun in glory when he turned to encounter Yuli, and for the moment the surge of passion he felt as he met those clear and sparkling eyes swamped his doubts. More, because he found Roman in his arms and their mouths meeting in full sight of their colleagues in Year 12. Yuli gave in to the moment with a smile. ‘Well, good morning!’ he said as they broke off. ‘Missed you bad,’ came the reply. Yuli basked in the moment but had to ask. ‘You weren’t at choir practice last week. Why no texts? I was worried you might be ill.’ Roman hung his head and then looked up. ‘Later, leblen. But we really need to talk.’ A yearning look and another peck on Yuli’s lips and he was gone, leaving a bemused boyfriend behind; one who was still not completely convinced by this stage in their relationship that he could in fact be called a boyfriend. Concentration was fitful for Yuli for the rest of the morning, his mind continually returning to Roman’s anxious and yet excited air. They met again in the food queue for lunch. Their friendship group was already at their usual table, but Roman led him past it to a corner. As he passed Willem Yuli leaned in to whisper urgently into his ear, ‘Later!’ They settled opposite each other. ‘So, Romesczu, you seem to have something to say. So say it.’ The remark came out more curtly than he had intended, as the sudden sharp glance from Roman recognised. ‘Are you angry with me?’ Yuli looked into his heart, and shook his head with a sad smile. For better or worse, Roman was who he was. ‘No baby. I’m not angry with you. I couldn’t ever be. I’m just very puzzled as to what goes on in your head, that’s all.’ ‘Really? Oh, then I must explain myself. For we can’t have that. I love you Yuli, with all my heart.’ Yuli raised his eyebrows. Roman had taken on an air of dignity that he had not yet observed in the boy; Roman-Rudolf Staufer von Ebersfeld the Freiherr had made his appearance, and with a disconcerting tinge in his demeanour of the baron, his father. ‘That’s … er, nice to know. I didn’t doubt it, leblen men,’ Yuli replied, not altogether truthfully. Roman’s face turned a little sad. ‘I’d not have blamed you had you done, my Yuli. But hear me out. I know you know that my parents do not approve of you, and they’ve said so to me, my mother perhaps more often than my father. They think they have their reasons, which I do not agree with. I haven’t bothered you with any of this, but it has made home life difficult, which was one reason I didn’t resist their insistence I go with the youth group to France over the holidays. Though I missed you, it was a relief to me on another level.’ Yuli started to develop a little guilt. He had assumed from the boy’s tranquillity that Roman was just getting the cold treatment at home, but apparently he had been having a harder time than Yuli had appreciated. He hadn’t probed to find out what was really going on in the Von Ebersfeld house. It began to occur to him uneasily that he might possibly have been the self-centred one. He asked Roman to continue and reached across the table to take his hand. ‘The other kids on the pilgrimage were good. We’ve known each other since we were little. They cheered me up and told the monks how good a singer I was, so that was how I met Brother Aleksander.’ ‘Huh?’ ‘He’s the chief cantor for the monastery. He’s got quite a voice himself. He talked me into taking the lead in some of the Advent and Christmas services: the monastery is a really big name in devotional song … you’ve never heard of it? No? Well, take my word for it. The choir monks sort of adopted me and I even got invited into their house. Me and Brother Al talked a lot, and in the end I spilled out all my troubles. He shook me by shrugging and saying he was gay too, so he understood. It was after he’d been put through hell with his own family – traditional Polish Catholics – that he ended up at Taizé.’ Yuli gaped. ‘Don’t tell me he talked you into becoming a monk!’ Roman stared, then giggled. ‘No, silly. I’m only sixteen still, how could that happen? But we did talk a lot and we went through some difficult questions I had. The religious ones he saw off with ease, the family ones weren’t so easy to deal with. But by the end of the week I began to see that the love I get from my family is not unconditional love. For the first time I began to see that my mother is using my guilt to control me. When Brother Al asked me who in my home gave me unconditional love and support I could only say one person had, and that’s Klara.’ ‘The maid?’ ‘She’s a bit more than that. She looked after me from the time I was little. She gave me all the warmth that neither of my parents could. It was to her I went for hugs in all my little troubles. Until I met you, she was the warm heart of my life. She thinks you’re wonderful, by the way.’ ‘Really?’ ‘Yes, from the first time you came to our house. Also, she worked out that me and you were … y’know. That same day.’ ‘How?’ ‘She said it was the way our eyes met when we were making music.’ ‘And she said nothing to your parents?’ ‘Not a word. She’s covered for me when she could too. We talked a lot when I got back from France. Brother Al said she’d give me good advice.’ ‘So what happened last Thursday? Why weren’t you at the Hofkapelle?’ Roman went quiet for a few moments, then he re-engaged. ‘Mutta came into my room as I was getting ready and said that she and Vater had been talking. They had come to the conclusion that I must concentrate on my Bacca and take time out of my music till the summer.’ ‘What! That’s so …’ ‘… Shitty? Obvious? Unkind? They all work.’ ‘What did you say?’ ‘I’m not good at confrontation, but I did sort of convey I was not happy.’ ‘They have no right! You’ll be seventeen in ten days: old enough for university. What are you gonna do, Romesczu?’ Roman’s mouth quirked up in a rather cute sign of his confusion. ‘I talked to Klara. And she had something to say that changed everything.’ *** Henry’s phone rang. It was Oskar von Tarlenheim. ‘Finally,’ he swore to himself. ‘Hey, Oskar,’ he said breezily. ‘Ah, Henry. Sorry it’s taken so long to get back to you. How can I help?’ ‘I need some advice from someone who knows how this country collapsed and put itself back together again in the eighties and nineties, and you lived through it all. It’s about the Okranske Dienst.’ ‘The former internal security service? Long since wound up, and one or two of its members are still serving out their sentences for corruption and arms trafficking in the Arsenal prison. What’s got you interested? Are you looking to do a feature?’ ‘No, no. It’s a particular query about its files and methods. Let me explain.’ Eventually he wound up. ‘So we now have two instances where its files from the year 1988 have been produced to substantiate career-damaging allegations about liberal and centrist politicians. Both cases are somehow connected to Dieter von Ebersfeld too.’ There was a long silence at the other end of the line. Oskar finally broke it. ‘Look Henry, I know Dieter quite well. I can imagine he’s not the sort of fellow whom you’d sympathise with for several reasons, but he is for all that a decent and honest man. I might add that though he’s a Catholic of the old school, he doesn’t make any big issue of my homosexuality. Rudi quite likes him. You might also remember that his experience of the Second Republic was as grim as that of my own family. It’s not credible that he’d be in league with former ORD agents.’ ‘I’m not suggesting that exactly. What I need to know is where these files might have come from, because the two specimens I now have on my desk are not forgeries, so far as I or the staff of the National Archives can tell. They can’t tell me where they came from but, genuine though they appear to be, they certainly don’t belong to the official ORD documentary deposits they received in 1992 or 1994.’ ‘Hmph. Then you need to talk to Teresza Monicec at State.’ ‘Who she?’ ‘You’ll like her. She’s your sort.’ ‘What does that mean?’ ‘An irritating obsessive with a redeeming sense of humour. I’ll email you her contact details. Let me know how it goes. I’m interested.’ *** ‘Fucking hell, Romesczu!’ Willem was wide-eyed. Yuli had called him over as soon as he’d heard what Roman had to say, and got the boy to repeat it all to Willem, who instructed them accordingly. ‘Look, dinner hour is nearly up, but we gotta talk this through. I’m gonna skip first period, and you two better had as well.’ ‘I’m free anyway … it’s just keyboard practice,’ Yuli contributed. Roman just shrugged. ‘We’ll find a quiet corner.’ So ten minutes later Willem sat frowning at them in an empty classroom with a chair wedged under the door handle. Eventually he said ‘So Klara was giving a major clean out to your bedroom and en suite while you were away and turned up hidden cameras.’ Roman nodded. ‘She’d brought a ladder and had climbed up to the top of the shelf unit, which never usually gets her attention. One was fixed to the underside of a shelf with a panoramic view of my bed. You couldn’t see it unless you were up close. She didn’t try to remove it, but took a shot of it with her handij. She didn’t think it was active. I was away. Nothing to record.’ ‘Fucking hell. But then she prowled around, climbed up and found another in the light fixture above the shower unit and another focussed on your toilet. Some bastard wanted a Romesczu show, up close and personal. Er … gotta ask, would the voyeuristic cunt have got a return for his investment.’ ‘Willemczu!’ Roman had gone bright red. He nodded slowly and looked sideways at Yuli, who took and squeezed his hand. ‘So, we don’t know how long someone’s been recording Romesczu’s private life, but we can certainly guess why. We can rule out your mum and dad, so who does that leave?’ Roman spread his hands helplessly. ‘Someone with access to the house, I suppose. Vater’s staff are there for meetings, but Klara says she thinks she has some ideas. But they’re scary.’ Yuli frowned. ‘That Hadjek man.’ Roman started. ‘Er … yes? What made you think that?’ ‘Because, leblen men, I see the way he stares at you when you’re not looking. Like a cat licking its lips at a little bird it’s cornered. Has the creep ever tried anything on with you?’ ‘He was one of my teachers at the German gymno before my breakdown. It was him who alerted my Vater and helped sort out things with the gymno. That’s how he came to Vater’s notice and was offered a job in the Prefecture. He didn’t teach subjects where he’d have seen me naked or anything in the changing room. I remember when I stood at his desk to look at my work he’d sort of hold me loosely by my side and sometimes his hand would go down and cup my bum. But I never thought much of it. It only happened once or twice. I had to think hard to remember it, and I’m not sure I remember it properly anyway.’ ‘How old were you then?’ ‘Oh … thirteen or so. But he never said or did anything sexy. Well … he did put his hand on my leg when he was talking to me as he was driving me back from school before Christmas. He took his time removing it too. But that was the only time.’ ‘He just stares.’ ‘I guess.’ Willem snarled. ‘Looks like his interest in you has increased through puberty. He likes young teen boys and you are just too enticing. He can’t make a pass at you because of the risk you may react badly and his career depends on your father, but he’s still getting obsessive enough to take risks. It has to be him.’ There was a silence. ‘But that’s not all,’ Roman said. The other two looked up. ‘Klara was really shocked of course but she warned me that confronting Hadjek with it might not be so easy.’ ‘How’s that?’ ‘Klara picks up a lot around the house. I mean, she doesn’t spy on people, but you can’t help overhearing things at dinners and drinks parties and so on. And she’s a clever woman, not that anybody notices. She was the one who helped me with my homework until I was in gymno, you know, and sometimes afterwards as well. ‘The point is that though Hadjek works for Vater in the Prefecture, Klara thinks he has just as close a relationship with Mutta, maybe even more so.’ ‘You don’t think …!’ Yuli was wide-eyed. Roman blushed red again. ‘No, no! Not that. But they do a lot of business together. Mutta has the money in the family you know. Her people are nobility in Sardinia, where my cousins have castles and villas. Klara thinks that she and Hadjek have some schemes going on. They meet together when my father isn’t at home too.’ Willem frowned. ‘So what are you saying, Romecszu? You’re reluctant to expose Hadjek because you don’t think your parents will take you seriously? The cameras are still there.’ Roman shook his head. ‘Maybe they’ll try to explain it away in other ways. I don’t know. But what I do know is that in ten days I’ll be seventeen, and I’m packing up and leaving home. I can never be me there, it’s too dangerous a place. And they’ll never accept the man I love. Klara will give me a bed in her flat, and that’ll be fine by me. She’ll quit her job the same day.’

They had had no difficulty at all in locating Engris. Or, rather, the planet had let itself be found, shortly after they had wished to go there. For Charlie it laid to rest any last doubts he might have been holding about Ragal and why the alien was there among them. Charlie trusted Pacha's instincts, and the little Kift had shown nothing but acceptance for Ragal and the things the alien had told them. Charlie's own heart seemed satisfied that Ragal only meant to help, and that the alien truly had no idea why he was among them. But Engris was not the same as one of them. Living beings were fallible. Whatever motivated the planet's instincts, it was far older and far more experienced than any of them could ever be. The proven fact was that no one with malice in their mind or heart would be allowed to find Engris, and that they had been allowed to reach the dark world and land there with Ragal aboard ended any worries Charlie might have been having about the reasons they were again out in space. Yet it wasn't until after they had arrived at the port by the main city that Charlie had considered the idea that Pacha might have chosen the ancient world as a rendezvous just for this very reason. A test, now passed. "You're getting to be a cynic in your old age," Kippy had said, when Charlie had confided his thoughts to his boyfriend. It had been during a quiet moment together in what served as the bathroom aboard the Moth ship, and Kippy had been surprised when Charlie had mentioned what had been on his mind. "The ring convinced me that Ragal was okay before we even left home," Kippy continued, smiling, and then placed a kiss on Charlie's cheek. "But I know you're just being careful." "I am," Charlie agreed. "Some of the people I care the most about in the whole universe are here. I don't want anything to happen to them." Kippy had nodded, and rubbed his cheek against Charlie's. "My skwish tells me we need to be careful. But I don't sense any disasters ahead just yet. Now take a piss, and let's get back to the others." Illia had used the ship's facilities to provide Ragal with clothing, manufactured to the alien's specifications. The result was modest, a basic long-sleeved shirt over a pair of somewhat baggy pants, both a warm gold in color. Shoes had been provided that fit the alien's feet, though Charlie would have more likely termed them 'moccasins' had he seen them on a pair of human feet back home. They were soft and leathery-looking, yet were certainly tough enough to take whatever might come. Charlie had developed a great deal of respect for the materials sciences of those that traveled the stars. The things they made, no matter how comfortable and luxurious looking, were more durable than anything made back on Earth. During their day-long wait for Murcha to arrive, they visited the pirate market. Though Ricky was wearing the vibratory blade he had purchased there during an earlier visit, no one else had brought their treasures along with them. Pacha was happy to let them look around again, saying that there was more than enough surplus spending credit in his ship's account to cover anything they might want to buy. Frit and Pip immediately headed off together, pulling Keerby along, saying they wanted to show the elf around the market, and that they'd be back. Charlie called after them to be careful. He wasn't worried about the elves starting any trouble, but he was worried about what they might buy. Frit and Pip were somewhat unrestrained, and Charlie could imagine them returning with just about anything. "Would you like me to monitor them?" Kontus asked, as Charlie watched the three elves disappear into the crowds. "Would you? I mean...they don't really need monitoring. Just make sure they don't buy something too big to fit inside the ship, or something crazy. Or let someone take advantage of them. I don't think that will happen here on Engris, but you never know." The big Trichani laughed a booming laugh. "I have already learned of their exuberance. I would not mind at all." He turned, and started after the three elves. Charlie sighed in relief, and Kippy patted his hand. "Be careful, Charlie. You're starting to act like a worried parent." Charlie laughed at that, and offered Kippy a heartfelt kiss. "Well," his boyfriend murmured, as they parted. "I guess I was wrong. That was about as unparent-like as you can get!" Mike carried Pacha, and Ragal followed along, taking in the sights with obvious fascination.They wandered among the stalls and shops in a loose grouping for most of the day, looking over the loot of a thousand worlds, some of which had been dead for longer than even Charlie could imagine. Time spans among the stars seemed different than the measures used back home on earth. Human history was poorly documented beyond about three thousand years past, though there were sparse records that had survived from as far back as six-thousand years. Some of the cultures now traveling the stars had been doing so for even longer than that, with recorded histories going back to a time when anatomically modern homo sapiens were still just beginning to spread as far as Europe. And it was even a little scary to realize that a race like the people that had constructed Engris had been mastering advanced technologies at a time when humans were still taming fire. Pacha laughed good-naturedly when Charlie brought up the subject, and patted his arm fondly. "It is the way of the galaxy, Charlie, and very probably, the way of the universe, everywhere. Peoples come and go. Even as we speak, there are races somewhere that are struggling through the last days of civilization, while elsewhere there are those just beginning to look at the night sky with wonder. It is the same with races as it is with individuals. Everywhere you go in life, you will encounter those that are older and wiser, and those that are younger and more innocent. Neither state is a measure of quality, but of experience. And that grows as we do, every day of our lives." Charlie nodded, feeling a little better about it. "It's just a little intimidating, some of the things we've seen out here. Our planet seems a little old-fashioned to me now, sometimes." "Your kind will have their day among the stars," Pacha reassured. "Technology builds at an ever-increasing speed the more you master it, and your people have reached the point where the stars are not so far away any longer. Give them time, and they will be voyaging out to join in with the community that exists here. Especially with people like you and Kip and Mike and the others to lead them on." Charlie had smiled at that, and felt better afterwards. A lifelong reader, called Britannica Brain by his friends since grade school, Charlie was used to knowing things. Their recent adventures had driven home to him plainly the fact that human knowledge was but a drop in a very large bucket, a far cry from being complete. He was coming to realize how much there was out here in the universe to know. It had made him feel a little small sometimes, and a little unsure of himself. But Pacha's words had reassured him. Everything, including knowledge and the wisdom to use it, took time to acquire. I'm just a kid, he reminded himself, smiling. Kippy seemed to have no such reservations. He moved from booth to stall to tabletop in the marketplace, oohing and aahing over everything he saw, each new treasure just one more reason to smile and wonder. Charlie held his hand as they walked, absorbing some of that wonder, until he, too, was smiling at everything they examined. "What do you think those are?" Kippy asked, when they stopped at a stall offering basketball-sized globes. The globes hovered in the air above the countertop, uniform in size but varying widely in color. Within each globe swam or floated strange small creatures that seemed to be all eyes and fins, and which gazed unblinkingly outward at them as they stood there. The stand's proprietor was a tall, gangly fellow, with pale skin and sunken eyes, and thin, waving tendrils in place of hair upon his head. He was dressed all in black, and was as good an approximation of an alien mortician as Charlie had ever seen. But he greeted them with a cheerful smile, and waved a large hand with six fingers on it at his stock. "Greetings, hominids. To look about would be my wonderful wish." Charlie smiled at the translation. Some alien tongues arrived into English with little in the way of trouble, because the original languages were constructed along patterns that were similar to human languages. Others made the transition with varying states of compatibility and completeness, while still others were hard to get at all. It was no fault of the Kifta technology, which was quite excellent. Some alien thinking was so truly alien that only basic exchanges could be made, while others simply were not expressed in spoken languages as humans understood them. And another group of languages were accompanied by accents, like generated smells, non-verbal sounds, pheromones, colors, or so called 'body flags', which could be any part of the body that moved, stilled, changed color, or otherwise displayed in a certain way as an accompaniment to speech, and the nuances of which the translator could not always decipher and take into account. Kippy was enchanted, as always, by the globes, and reached a hand towards one, though fell short of touching it. "Ooh. What are these?" The alien's smile widened into something that would have been impossible for a human to duplicate. "Your moods they sense, and would show you. Examine, please." Kippy took that as permission to touch the nearest globe, a rose-colored orb, and laid his fingertips upon it. The creatures inside eyeballed him intensely, and the globe suddenly softened in color, and miraculously flowed into a gentle, peaceful shade of blue. Kippy aahed, and Charlie instinctively squeezed his boyfriend's hand. "Calm, you are," the alien intoned. "Happy. Wonderful state." "I get it," Bobby said, from Mike's side. "It tells you what your mood is, by the color." Mike nodded, and leaned up against Bobby's shoulder. "Like one of those rings they sell back home are supposed to do." Bobby looked uncertain. "What rings?" Mike laughed. "Probably before your time, Bob. They're mostly sham, anyway." But then he nodded at the globes. "But these, if they really work? Holy Dooley, would these sell well back in Brissie!" Kippy pulled the orb into both hands, turned, and offered it to Charlie. "You try it." Charlie smiled, and took the globe into his own hands. It was lighter than he had expected, for he'd figured it was full of a liquid that the swimmers inside moved about in. But that was plainly wrong, and the orb could only be filled with air or some gas, instead. Again the eyeball creatures inside turned, this time to inspect Charlie. The color of the globe intensified to an almost sky-blue, causing Kippy to ooh all over again. "Calm," the alien said again. "With much curiosity. Affection for someone there, too." Charlie smiled at Kip. "Yup." "Is there a chart for that thing?" Mike wondered out loud. "Every shade must have a meaning." Pacha asked to be placed on the countertop, and Mike set him there and went back to stand next to Bobby. The orb was passed around, and continued to display shades of blue, signifying peace and happiness. When it got to Ricky, a light gray halo formed around the calm blue center, and Ricky looked surprised. "What's that mean?" "Calm, fortified, protective," the alien described. "You care much for someone's safety." Ricky sighed happily, and smiled sideways at Adrian. "You got that right," he agreed. The orb was passed to Bobby, who gazed expectantly into the eyes of the creatures within. Again, the orb was mostly blue; but then little green waves appeared inside and washed from one side to the other. Bobby looked amazed, and his gaze sought out the alien proprietor's. "What's going on?" The alien looked somehow amused. "Calm there, too. But also much interest in procreation." "Procreation?" Kippy gasped, and then suddenly laughed. "I think he means you're horny." Bobby's cheeks reddened immediately, and he looked at Mike with fear in his eyes. Bobby thrust the orb away from himself then, and it sailed briefly towards the crowds around them before making a left turn and flying immediately back to hover above the countertop. Mike sighed, and put an arm around Bobby's waist and tried to pull him closer. Bobby resisted, and looked frantic a moment, his eyes darting wildly about at the others. "It's okay," Mike said softly. "It's not like they don't know already." Bobby turned back to look at him then. "It's okay," Mike repeated, smiling. His gaze was patient and fond. "These are my mates. Our friends. Relax." Bobby licked his lips and turned his eyes back to Charlie and Kippy. Charlie nodded, took Kippy's hand in his own, and squeezed it affectionately. "We're happy for you, Bobby." "Yes, we are," Kippy said, emphatically. "And about time, too." Bobby bit at his lip a moment, and Mike managed then to pull him closer. "Are you sorry?" he asked then. Bobby looked stunned, and then he and Mike watched each other a moment. "No," Bobby whispered. "I'm not sorry." "We're not, either," Adrian said. "You two are great together." Bobby looked around again at the eyes upon him, and must have seen the truth of what he was hearing. "I'm...sorry. It's hard for me. It wasn't like this where I came from." "We know," Charlie said, nodding. "But you're here now, and free to be who you were meant to be. Never be ashamed of it." He smiled at Kippy. "We are who we are." Mike took Bobby's hand in his, and Bobby let him. He looked down at that clasp, and finally smiled. "I'm not ashamed. Just a little scared." "That much is okay," Ricky said. "We've all been through that." Mike sighed, looking playful then. "It's not like they know we've been bumpin' uglies, or anything." Bobby gave a startled laugh. "Mike!" "Aw," Kippy breathed, smiling. "How romantic." But then he frowned. "I think." Bobby's cheeks were red again, but this time he was smiling. "It sounds worse than it was." Mike smiled. "I'll say." Kippy looked from one boy to the other, and then smiled again. "Aw. How romantic." The humans laughed, and Charlie breathed a sigh of relief. That Mike and Bobby were together now was something that needed to be out in the open. Charlie had been afraid that Bobby's upbringing in a past age might have ruined that; but now it seemed that the boy was strong enough to make the adjustment to a different mindset. Pacha, still seated on the countertop, reached out and laid his fingers against a bright yellow orb. It immediately flowed into another peaceful shade of blue, but with tiny flickers of gold in it, almost like microscopic lightning bolts. The stand's proprietor looked interested then. "Power user." "Just so," Pacha agreed. "These are not living creatures inside this orb?" "No. Biological constructs. No need food or drink. Powered by gas mixture within. Last long time." Pacha gave his version of a nod. "Thought so. They don't read like living creatures." Bobby stepped forward then. "Could I get one? I mean, to take with us?" The little Kift tchick-tchick-tchicked. "Of course. Select one." Bobby's eyes went to the orb he had thrown away, which had resumed a place above the countertop and gone to a soft yellow. "That one." "Come," the proprietor said, motioning to Bobby. Bobby grinned at Mike, and then went to the counter. The seller took the orb in hand, waved something over it, and then handed it to Bobby. "Will go with you now. Account will be charged. Thanking you!" Bobby looked delighted, and gazed down at the globe, which had gone blue again. Somewhat tinier green waves were still present, though, and Mike came to stand with him. The two of them smiled at each other, and then turned back to the others. "This should be interesting," Mike said, laughing. The proprietor of the stand bent and retrieved something from behind the counter, which proved to be a small, flat sheet of what looked like glass, but with a dark rim about it. He offered it to Bobby. "This, too. Is the color guide, so you know. Hold in front of orb when is reacting, and will tell you emotions within." The alien frowned then. "Not know your language, but can display Trichani and many other galactic tongues. You can translate?" "Yes," Pacha assured. "Thank you." He turned to Bobby. "I'll have Illia add English to the device's memory for you." They moved off as a group, Bobby holding his orb before him, which remained a peaceful blue, but with the occasional green wave running through it, which made both Bobby and Mike laugh. Charlie smiled at that, and squeezed Kippy's hand. They circled the market, and came upon Kontus, standing with Frit and Pip and Keerby. The new elf was standing still, his arms raised at his sides, while a small alien danced about him, taking measurements, and doing things to a bright red, green, and gold garment that Keerby was wearing. Kippy grinned at Charlie and sprang ahead, pulling him by his hand. "This I've got to see!" Nearby Keerby, what looked like a tiny rain cloud floated in the air. On it's side was displayed an exact likeness of Keerby, moving as he moved, smiling as he smiled, and also dressed in the colorful outfit that was part Shakespearean play, and part clown college. It reminded Charlie of a uniform worn by the Swiss Guard at the Vatican, except this one seemed to be alive somehow. The colors crawled and danced across the material of the outfit as the tailor worked. The finish of the suit had the sheen of satin about it, and a strange life to it as it moved to conform to Keerby's physique. The little alien tailor sang and chortled to himself as he manipulated the fit with two tiny, glowing eggs held in his hands, which he waved about like a maestro before an orchestra. The boys watched in wonder as the suit continued to conform to Keerby's body, tucking in here, making accommodation there, until the fit was absolutely perfect. The result modeled the elf's body without showing off too much, yet also suggesting quite plainly that the body beneath was in a fine state of physical condition. As the alien tailor stepped back with a satisfied sigh, the colors that had been running riot over the surface of the material began to blend together, forming lighter and lighter shades, until, quite suddenly, the outfit was a pure and snowy white. "Wow," Kippy breathed, tossing a smile at Charlie. "Was that something, or what?" The small rain cloud now also displayed Keerby in the white suit. The elf inspected himself in the surface of the misty viewer, and smiled. "I think I'm feeling magenta today." The suit of clothing briefly flickered, and was suddenly a vibrant shade of magenta. The raincloud also showed Keerby attired in similar fashion. The elf turned slowly, eying himself in the mist, and then nodded. "Not bad." "It's wonderful!" Frit said, grinning. "Gorgeous!" Pip added, nodding. Kontus frowned. "It's a little hard on the eyes, but I'm not one to judge another's taste in clothing." "Any color you wish, just say," the alien tailor said. "You like?" Keerby grinned. "It's perfect." The alien seemed pleased, and waved a hand at the little rain cloud, which contracted and disappeared. "Thank you. Account charged when you leave. Please come again." Keerby walked over to Charlie and Kippy, and turned slowly in front of them, showing off the new suit from every angle. "What do you think?" Kippy immediately smiled. "Beautiful! And the clothing is nice, too." Charlie hooted, and gently elbowed his boyfriend, who looked pleased with himself. "Well," Kippy said unabashedly, "I'm being totally honest." "Waste of time," Pip whispered, sliding over beside Kip. "Keerby has a girl back home." Frit grinned. "Can't win 'em all!" Kippy sighed, and gave a little shake to his head. "Beauty has no gender, guys." Charlie was about to comment when he looked to their right, and saw the proprietor of another stand watching them. He felt an immediate sense of recognition, though could not remember where he had seen the alien before. He was a small, quite hairy fellow a little shorter than they, with very large, liquid brown eyes that managed somehow to look both interested and bored at the same time. Charlie stared a moment, feeling he was being rude, but certain he had seen the alien before. The other settled it for him. He reached down to the countertop before him, lifted a coppery square of metal, and waved it at Charlie, offering a crooked variation on a smile to go with it. Of course! This was the vendor that Charlie had bought his treasure from, the square of alien metal that showed whoever held it the place he or she loved the most. Home! Charlie turned to the others. "I want to stop by that stand there next." All eyes turned that way, and the alien looked momentarily surprised, but then offered up the crooked smile again. Charlie headed towards the next stand with Kippy in tow, and the others followed along behind. "What are we doing?" Kippy whispered. "This is the guy that sold me that metal square that shows anyone that holds it his home." Kippy increased his pace and came up along side Charlie, his face displaying renewed interest. "Hey, that thing was great. I wouldn't mind having one for myself." They crowded together before the stand, gazing down at what lay on the countertop before them. There were a dozen or more of the copper-looking plates, each with a satiny finish that suggested red gold. Kippy pointed at one, and then gazed questioningly at the proprietor, who immediately looked even happier. "To pick one up," the fellow said. "To hold in hand." Kippy did pick up a plate, and smiled as it darkened and colors flowed across the surface. In a moment his house came into view, and then the view moved forward, through the front door, and climbed the staircase to Kippy's bedroom. Kippy sighed, and leaned up against Charlie. "I love this thing." He turned to Pacha. "Can I get one?" The Kift emitted a small laugh, and waved at the entire group. "All of you, feel free to purchase items here in the market. Do not be shy, please." Mike gave out a soft laugh of his own. "We're loaded, especially after the Tower of Arimides deal. Have fun, gents." Kippy placed his plate in his pocket, and Adrian and Rick each got one, too. Bobby examined one, waited for it to show him his home, and then carefully placed the plate back on the counter. "I don't think so." Mike put an arm around his shoulders. "I can understand that. You sure?" The other boy nodded. "Yeah. There's nothing there for me now." Charlie was saddened by that, but knew there was no going back for Bobby. Time was a complex thing, and once it had made its decisions, the results were often irrevocable. Too bad there wasn't some sort of arbiter for time, someone or something you could go to when life handed you a lemon, and complain to about...wait. Charlie suddenly froze, stunned, as an idea hit him, one he should have seen all along. Max had a knack for handling time, though the elf had never made any mention of being able to move backwards or forwards any great length within it. Slowing it down or speeding it up was one thing, but traveling in it was another matter, entirely. But there was a person who Charlie knew who could do both of those things, and do them well: Nicholaas. What if Nicholaas were to send Bobby back to just after the moment in time when he had been kidnapped by the flying saucer? A loop in time would be created, but one that returned Bobby to the age in which he had originally lived. His grandmother would still be alive, the people and places that Bobby knew would still be there...Bobby's life would still be there, waiting for him to pick it up again. He need not lose it all, as he had done now. He could have his life back, if he wished it. But...what, then, of Mike? That the Aussie boy had developed feelings for Bobby seemed clear, and Charlie was certain that those feelings were reciprocated. The idea of separating them with an unbridgeable gap in time seemed horribly unfair. And Bobby would not be free to be himself if returned to the era in time from which he had come. The idea that he might never otherwise find love was just too painful to consider. "Charlie?" Kippy whispered, peering closer. "Are you okay?" "Yeah." Charlie nodded. "Just thinking about something." Kippy watched him a moment, and then frowned. "Well, stop thinking so hard, will you? It looks painful even from here." Charlie smiled at that, and nodded. "Love you, Kip." Kippy broke into a smile, and leaned forward and kissed Charlie's cheek. "Me, too. Now stop looking like you're constipated. We're supposed to be having fun, right?" "Right." Charlie relaxed his shoulders, and sighed. The thing about moving in time was that Bobby could spend as much of it here, in this present, as he liked, and then still go home if he wanted to later on. So perhaps Charlie would discuss the boy's situation with Nicholaas at some point...or not. There would be no use in getting Bobby's hopes up if Nicholaas knew a reason it could not be done. And Charlie couldn't talk to Nicholaas right now, so there was no use dwelling on it and worrying about it. Kippy watched him a moment longer, saw the decision to relax appear in Charlie's eyes, and then smiled. "Look at the other stuff this guy has for sale." Charlie nodded, and let his eyes roam across the countertop. The right side was covered with the coppery-looking plates, with gaps here and there among them now that the others had purchased theirs. The middle of the counter was a jumble of oddball items, none of which immediately attracted Charlie's eye. He moved to the left, looking over what was there. The left side of the counter was covered with neat rows of flat metallic ovoids, also a coppery color, and Charlie was suddenly struck by the similarity in appearance to the plates that showed one his home. "Oh...these look like they were made by the same people that made the plates." Kippy nodded. "They do have the same look, don't they?" He glanced up at the proprietor, who had taken notice of their interest and moved over to face them. "What are these?" Kippy asked. The alien's brown eyes looked amused. "Most unusual toy. To take one in hand. To try one." Kippy grinned, obviously seeing it as a dare, and dropped a hand and picked up one of the ovoids. He held it in his hand and looked down at it, obviously waiting for it to do something visual. Charlie watched, too, expecting almost anything to happen. So, after a full fifteen seconds in which nothing at all happened, Kippy looked disappointed and cocked his head at the proprietor. "What's it supposed to do?" The alien pointed at Charlie. "Friend?" Kippy smiled. "Well, of course." The alien bobbed his head. "Good friend?" Kippy's smiled widened, and his eyes sparkled at Charlie. "The very best." The alien nodded. "Touch friend." Kippy looked surprised, but then grinned again, and reached his free hand towards Charlie. "What will it do, give him a shock or something...?" The moment Kippy's hand landed on Charlie's arm, both of them gasped. Charlie stared at his boyfriend, who had suddenly changed magically in appearance. It was as if a bright, silvery light had sprung up behind Kippy, outlining his form, and a gentle breeze arisen to tousle his blond hair. His boyfriend's eyes were large and luminous, and full of love and desire for Charlie. Kippy's skin glowed a beautiful golden brown in color, the most perfect summer tan ever, and his flesh looked sooo smooth, sooo soft, sooo appealing... Charlie leaned forward, at the same time that Kippy did, and they grabbed each other. The hand with the ovoid in it got pressed between them as they kissed. Charlie opened his mouth and met Kippy's tongue as it thrust forward, and immediately there was a titanic rush between Charlie's legs, and the boner of all boners popped upright in his pants. He could feel the solid press of the same thing in his boyfriend's pants, and Charlie thrust one hand up inside Kippy's shirt, determined to rub and caress that beautiful, inviting flesh... He felt hands grab hold of him, and suddenly he and Kippy were being pried apart. Charlie resisted, could also feel Kippy doing the same thing. But more hands grabbed Charlie's shoulders, and then he and Kippy were yanked apart. Charlie blinked, suddenly feeling the incredible lust he'd been feeling just drain away. Kippy stared at him, his chest rising and falling, as if he still wasn't sure what had happened. Charlie turned his head. Ricky and Adrian had him by the upper arms, and were watching him with a combination of worry and laughter in their expressions. Across from him, Mike and Bobby had Kippy restrained in the same fashion "Apologies," the alien proprietor said immediately, looking quite concerned now. "Could not imagine the strength of feelings between two. To turn down the power. To limit the force." Kippy raised the ovoid and stared at it. Everyone stared at it. "I could make a bundle selling those things back on Earth," Mike said, under his breath. "Would sell well on Roorapynta, too," Kontus rumbled, laughing. "This thing did that?" Charlie asked, turning now to the stand's proprietor. "Only amplifies feelings already there," the alien said. "Works small with most species." The alien couldn't seem to help smiling then. "Works large with yours." "I'll say," Ricky said, shaking his head. "Another few seconds and you two would have been ripping each other's clothes off." "How terrible," Kippy said, smiling. But his eyes conveyed to Charlie that he didn't think it was terrible at all. Charlie couldn't help laughing. "Yeah, I'm not sure I'm ready to be doing that in public." "Only amplifies feelings already there," the alien repeated. "Must be strong already, you two." Kippy gave a little tsk. "Well, duh." Charlie sighed, letting his gaze go back to the alien. "You say there's a way to turn it down?" The proprietor extended a hand, and Kippy reluctantly handed him the ovoid. The alien took it between two thick fingers and squeezed it. There was a click, and the two halves of the ovoid came apart. The proprietor leaned forward, and showed them a small rotary dial now exposed within. "Was turned to half power. To turn it down, I think." Charlie merely gaped at that. Half power! Kippy clapped his hands together, grinning. "Ohmigod, Charlie! Could you imagine what that would have been like turned all the way up?" Ricky laughed, and held up a hand and moved it as if he were tracking a newspaper headline. "Teens destroy neighborhood in fit of passion." "I like it," Adrian said, rubbing his shoulder against his boyfriend's. He waved a hand at the alien proprietor. "Can we get one of them, too?" Bobby immediately leaned over to Mike and whispered into his ear. The Aussie boy grinned, and held up a hand. "Yeah, us, too." Frit appeared out of nowhere, Pip right on his heels. "We'll take two!" Everyone laughed at that. "You only need one," Kippy explained. Pip shrugged, his eyes merry. "Won't know until we try two!" Even Kontus got one, his expression suggesting that a use would be found for the device when he eventually returned home. Charlie laughed at that, and at the apparently universal appeal that being royally horny seemed to have for everyone. His imagination stopped at Trichani sex, though, the term 'breaking the furniture' taking on a brand new meaning there. The purchases were made, and the vendor looked quite happy. "To enjoy, please." "We will!" Frit said, grinning. Pacha'ka and Ragal had watched everything with apparent good humor. "I would suggest we return to the ship now," the Kift said. "We will want some rest before Murcha and Onglet arrive." He looked pointedly at the boys. "So put away your new treasures until you get home." Everyone laughed at that. Ragal came over and smiled, and nodded to Kippy and Charlie. "This is great. I'm having a wonderful time." Charlie smiled at Kippy, who smiled in return. "I'm not doing too badly, myself," Charlie said. * * * * * * * The Lollipop landed on the field nearby Pacha's ship at the end of their first day on Engris, just as Murcha had promised. Charlie couldn't help smiling at the transformed ship, disguised by Max on their last adventure together to look like the yacht of a rich playboy, an illusion that Murcha had decided he liked and had kept in place. Gone was the sinister black hull studded with the many Moth devices of inspection and destruction. The vessel now seemed smooth and golden, circled by several rings, and bore a charming logo that depicted a sun rising above the curve of a blue world. It looked like the sort of vessel you'd see bringing in master bakers to a chocolate chip cookie convention, perhaps to Mars, or maybe even to Neverland, instead of a scaled-down version of a Moth battleship. It was the perfect disguise for a craft that was far more lethal than its size would lead one to believe possible. They moved from Pacha's ship to their own, taking the small orb that contained Illia with them. There was room in the special drawer beneath the central display in the Moth ship for all three artificial intelligences, and Illia seemed pleased to join Murcha and Onglet there. Pacha's ship was secured, even though they knew that no one would bother it there on Engris, not even if it sat there for an eternity. While those possessing both the nerve and the talent to possibly breech the ship's defenses might make their way to Engris, no one with the will to commit the crime itself would ever be allowed to land there. "The course is set, and if there is no further business to tend to here, we can depart," Murcha said, as everyone found a place to sit or lean. The pylon-seats arranged around the central display were too few in number for the size of their party now, and Murcha had the vessel provide additional seating for the others. Kontus lowered himself carefully into the rather fragile-looking chair provided for him, as if expecting it to collapse immediately beneath his weight. But Moth technical superiority extended to materials as well, and the seat gave no indication whatsoever that it might be overburdened by the Trichani's considerable mass. "I think we are through on Engris for now," Pacha said, looking about at everyone. "Shall we depart?" "I'm good," Mike said, nodding. He smiled at Bobby, who smiled and nodded, too. Mike pointed at the overhead. "That way!" "This will be fun!" Frit said, looking overjoyed at the idea of another journey with his friends. "The best!" Pip added, rubbing up against his boyfriend. "I think we're all ready," Charlie said, looking around at Kippy and Ricky and Adrian. "Guys?" "Let's roll," Kippy returned, with an enthusiasm that made Charlie smile. "We can look around the market again on the way back," Adrian put in. "Yeah, we only saw a little of what was there this time," Ricky said, patting the hilt of his vibratory blade. "I'd like to find that big guy who sold me this and see what else he has." "And we want to try to see Billy and Will at the spirit dome," Kippy reminded. "It wouldn't be Halloween without seeing them." "We can do all that on the way home," Charlie agreed. His gaze went to Ragal, who nodded at him. "I'm ready, of course. I am interested to see what clues Erenar holds for us." "And you're having a good time, too," Charlie added, smiling. "Of course." The twinkle of good humor in the alien's eyes was pronounced. Kontus issued forth a rumbling laugh. "Another great adventure in the offing, I think." His muzzle wrinkled in good humor. "Grand was the day you and yours came to visit Roorapynta, Charlie Boone." "There does seem to be a fortunate chain of circumstances in play that continues to bring us together with those of like minds and spirits," Pacha agreed, giving the equivalent of a nod. "It has strengthened us considerably." He gave out a small laugh. "But if our group gets any larger, I'm afraid we'll need a bigger ship!" Everyone smiled at that, and Charlie knew that the Kift was kidding. They could double the size of their party and still have plenty of room inside Lollipop for everyone. "We could always borrow a larger vessel from the Moth," Onglet said, apparently missing the humor. His voice was softer than the intense baritone that Murcha possessed, offering an impression of a milder character. Yet the two artificial intelligences were equally easy to get along with, and both seemed to have a positive opinion of the universe now that they had been released from the restraints imposed by the Moth. Illia was similar in spirit, though could be a bit feistier, and she wore her freedom as a right, since she had never borne the collar that had restricted the Moth intellects. Knowing Murcha and Onglet had been beneficial for her, illustrating quite clearly that such freedoms were not a guarantee everywhere in the galaxy. Once a bit possessive of Pacha and his ship, she had come to accept the idea that accomplishing a great goal was a much easier task with more hands to guide and guard the experience. Charlie smiled at Onglet's suggestion, and especially at the idea of borrowing from the Moth. The Moth were not the sort you casually took from. "Nah. I can't see us cruising around in one of those big Moth battlecruisers. Someone might sneeze and vaporize a city or something." "It would be perfectly safe," Murcha said, also missing that Charlie was kidding. "There are multiple safeguards in place." "I think we're good with this small ship for now," Charlie went on, grinning. "And speaking of that, I think we can head on out now." The central display showed the port city off to one side, artificially lit beneath a black and imposing sky. In an instant that vanished, and so did Engris, and they were off to find their fortunes in the vast Cooee. "Any idea of the subjective time we'll need to get there?" Charlie asked of Murcha. "It's a respectable distance," Illia offered, instead. "Even by galactic standards. As far as our recent voyage to the...the Crab Nebula, you call it, although in a different direction in the sky. Slightly more than six-thousand light years. It will take us approximately a week of ship time to arrive." Charlie whistled. "Wow. I think that's the farthest me and the guys have been yet." "What about the Beltracian arsenal planet?" Adrian asked. "That was far away, too." "Not quite as far," Mike said. "And that was in a different direction yet again." Bobby gave out a soft sigh. "I still can't get over being so far from home. I never even dreamed anything like this could happen to me." Mike smiled at him, and leaned his shoulder against his boyfriend's. "I don't think any of us ever imagined something like this. I've spent an arvo now and then reading space tales when I was a little tacker, but I never thought I'd be out here roamin' the back of Bourke, either." Bobby laughed, his eyes widening. "You're regressing, Michael." Mike nodded. "I'm an Aussie, bub. I've been learnin' to talk like a Yank, but it doesn't make me one, and never will." Bobby bumped his shoulder gently. "I wouldn't want it any other way." Mike grinned, and then looked around at everyone watching them. "Buck's night out, this is. I got no wucking furries. Time to nick off, I say, and have a squizzy at this planet Erenar." Everyone laughed, even Ragal. "And just when I thought I understood the language, too." Mike laughed at that. "Aw, most people back home don't talk that way. I was just havin' a little fun with you." Kippy gave Charlie a plaintive look. "A whole week until we get there. What are we gonna do with ourselves?" Ricky and Adrian grinned. "I'm not telling," Adrian said. Kippy scoffed. "Remember, there's no privacy here." "If you require privacy, arrangements can be made," Murcha said then. Kippy brightened, his eyes going to Charlie's. "We'll let you know." * * * * * * * The first system they inspected was a wash. There was only one rocky planet, and it was at the furthest limits of the Goldilocks zone, cold and icy, showing blue hints of water and green traces of life at the equator, only. The other four planets in the system were gas giants much further out, and devoid of the requirements for life as they knew it. Murcha moved them on to the next system, a day-long voyage in which they pored over the countless images taken by the ship's sensory gear of the ice planet, looking for anything that might resemble animate life in the warmer equatorial zone. The resolution of the images was phenomenal, and they easily picked out herds of large, shaggy beasts as they roamed the tall grasses of the temperate plains, along with smaller animals that seemed to be hunting the larger animals in packs. At the end of the day they had identified several dozen different animate lifeforms, but none that seemed to carry anything like a tool or weapon. There were no signs of intelligent habitation, nothing that might indicate that even a very primitive society was in the making. "Might be too early yet," Charlie supposed, just before they called it quits and headed off to bed. "Or, maybe this planet will never know civilization. Just because there's life there doesn't mean that one species will become ascendant." Kippy sighed, and pulled his boyfriend towards the enclosed space containing their bed, that had been provided by Murcha. "That's enough, Charlie. Can't you think of something else you'd rather do?" Charlie grinned. "Like what?" Kippy pouted, and only smiled again when they were inside their private space, and Charlie had gathered him close. They awoke to a gentle tone playing in the air, an indication from Murcha that they were about to emerge into the second system. The boys quickly got dressed and used the bathroom, and finally everyone assembled near the center command display. Ricky and Adrian were all smiles, and Bobby and Mike looked very pleased with themselves, too. Apparently, the decision to allow private sleeping quarters to those that desired them had been a popular decision. The boys exchanged quick greetings, a few jokes, and then everyone found a seat for the coming show. "Emergence in five," Onglet said, apparently driving the bus that morning. All eyes focused on the center display. The gently flowing darkness of the Cooee lightened, and then vanished altogether, leaving a bright yellow sun in the middle of the view. "Energy signature detected," Murcha said immediately. "Terrestrial planet identified at suitable coordinates." "This could be the one," Pacha said, looking pleased. "The generation of energy must be considerable to register this far out." "I am halting us at this point," Onglet spoke again. "The system ahead is full of debris, some of which is displaying energy signatures of its own, although at extremely low levels." It soon became apparent that much of the space near the target planet was littered with junk of every imaginable size. Something huge and awful had happened here at some point in the past that had left the entire inner solar system a junkyard, and perhaps, a graveyard as well. Charlie was standing near Ragal as he watched the display. The alien inspected the view in the display, and closed his eyes. After a moment, he nodded. "This is the place. I sense we are near our goal." Charlie watched the other quietly a moment before speaking. "Are you a power user, Ragal?" The alien smiled at him. "No. I am unable to manipulate energy in the way that Pacha does. That is not my gift." "But you have some sort of extra thing going on, don't you?" "Yes. My kind are sensitives, able to read the subtle clues of the universe that underlie all things. This is how I know we are near where we need to go." Charlie smiled. "Got your own skwish going on, huh?" "A proper analogy, actually. Your Kippy and Adrian possess early signs of this same quality." Charlie turned and looked over at his boyfriend, who was smiling and talking softly with Ricky and Adrian. "I thought something special was going on there." Ragal's eyes seemed to look inside Charlie for a moment. "You have your own...thing...going on, Charlie. You and Ricky, both. And even something special is happening between Mike and Bobby. I suspect that your minds are adapting themselves to the new circumstances of your lives, due to your travels about time, space, and the dimensions that support both." Charlie blinked at that. "I don't feel any different." Ragal laughed. "You won't. These talents are already a part of you. How they will eventually emerge, only time will tell." "I have been analyzing the debris between us and the planet," Illia said, sounding excited. "Much of it would seem to once have been part of a vessel of some kind. Or many vessels, that is. Perhaps even hundreds, or thousands of them." "The leftovers from some big space battle?" Ricky asked, shaking his head. "That's terrible." "Agreed. What I have examined with my sensors indicates mid-expansion era technology, consistent with that used by the Athonar and the Karchee." "Pretty old stuff," Mike mused. "Is it dangerous to us?" "I would say not. Murcha? You know your vessel's capabilities better than I." "I agree with your assessment. Everything I have examined thus far indicates a level of technology incapable of breaching the Lollipop's defenses. I feel it is safe to proceed at a reasonable speed. However, this will change our planetfall from two hours hence to eight." "Start us moving again," Pacha instructed. "Highest speed possible consistent with safety." A faint change in the sound of the machines beneath their feet signaled compliance with that action, and the Lollipop began a slow voyage into the debris field. "I don't really see anything," Adrian said, after a few minutes. "Where's all this junk you were talking about?" Murcha emitted a sinister-sounding laugh, causing everyone to smile. "There is a large amount of debris all about us, but space is a very roomy place. I would imagine that the scene here directly after the battle was extremely chaotic, with collisions between debris resulting in even more and smaller objects, and with some debris taking paths that ejected it from the system altogether. There has been time for this chaos to sort itself out somewhat. Each chunk of debris occupies a unique orbit, and there has been sufficient time since events transpired here for them to organize into something coherent. No doubt collisions still occur, but I would say they are not common any longer." "What is all about us are the survivors," Illia put in. "Some chunks of debris are as large or even larger than our vessel. To impact one at high speed could be dangerous. So we proceed at a speed that allows us time to detect these chunks and still maneuver to avoid them. We are currently moving at the maximum safe speed for such a situation, about twenty miles per second." Charlie couldn't help laughing at that. "That's, um...what, seventy-two thousand miles per hour?" "A crawl," Onglet returned, just a hint of disgust in his voice. "It will take eight hours to cover the half million miles to the target planet." "Enough time for breakfast and some pleasant conversation," Ricky said, offering his arm to Adrian. "Shall we adjourn to the breakfast room, my love?" "Yes, we shall." Charlie grinned, and moved over by Kippy and offered his arm. "Accompany me to the dining hall, my sweet?" "Do we have one?" Kippy asked, smiling and linking his arm with Charlie's. "Murcha, a dining hall, if you please," Charlie said, waving a hand in the air. A long table was produced, and seats sufficient for all of them, and the treaded crawlers that served as an interface with the ship's kitchen facilities took orders and brought them their food. The time passed easily, as they talked about what they didn't know about their current situation. "No one knows anymore what started the Athonar and the Karchee to fighting," Mike said, between bites of his food. "History says that the Athonar were a fairly serious bunch of traders specializing in exotic weaponry, while the Karchee were a rowdy lot of troublemakers, who seemed to have their fingers in all sorts of things. But you know how histories are. They're never written by the people involved. The Karchee apparently bit off more than they could handle with the Athonar, who had some weapons that nobody had seen before in these here parts of space. The Athonar were able to chase the Karchee all over the stars until they got tired of it, and then they simply challenged them to a duel, more or less." "A duel?" Bobby asked, obviously enchanted with the tale. "You mean, like with swords?" Mike laughed. "Yeah, except these swords had a real bite. The Athonar found this solar system, with the uninhabited planet Erenar in it, and built it up, and then dared the Karchee to come and take it away from them." "Challenged them, huh?" Ricky said, shaking his head. "That's amazing. And the Karchee showed up?" "Yep. And with about fifty times the ships anybody thought they had. It was a hell of a battle, by all accounts, of which there are a few. It was such a huge battle it kind of knocked both of them out of the fight, and there was no real winner." Bobby sighed. "That was real smart." "Uh huh." Mike shrugged. "Both sides got picked off by others afterwards, because they were so weak after the fight." "That sounds like a nasty time," Kippy said. "It seems pretty peaceful out here now by comparison." "Those were the expansion days," Pacha interjected. "Everyone was building an empire. And everyone was quick to guard what they thought was theirs." "And everyone thought everything was theirs," Mike added. "There were a lot of races travelin' about the stars then - the same stars, too. It was an unusual period of time, in that a lot of races achieved star travel about the same time, and they were all close together. It didn't take much for people to feel threatened by others." Kippy frowned. "It's not so different out here from back home, really. People fight over anything." Bobby nodded. "And it's never the people that start wars that get killed in them. It's always guys like my dad, who was very happy raising a family and being a mechanic. Someone started a war, and took him away from us forever." There was a bitter note to that, and Mike tightened his arm about Bobby's shoulders a little. "I'm sorry, love." Bobby turned and smiled at him. "Oh...I'm not even sure where that came from. I'm the one that should be sorry." Mike shook his head. "You never have to be sorry about the way you feel, Bob. There's always gonna be blokes out there starting trouble. You just have to do the best you can with it." He gave a little sigh. "It seems like the good people finally get together at some point and smack down the ones causing trouble. But it's usually pretty late by then, and the hoons have caused a lot of misery by the time they get theirs." Charlie looked over at Pacha. "The centers of power today are much farther apart?" "Yes. And boundaries have had time to become clearly defined. Even though there are still many problems within the empires of today, those we know of are very stable by comparison to those in existence at the time of the Athonar and the Karchee. And those two races are really only remembered today due to their conflict, and the one very great battle they shared here at Erenar. Little else is really known about them. Even the locations of their home worlds have been lost over time." "That's a little creepy," Kippy said. "Doesn't someone keep records?" "Many do," Pacha returned. "But our galaxy is a very active place. We only know a very small part of it, and even then, the part we know is far from fully explored. The number of stars is staggering, and life arises in the most surprising places. Peoples come and go, empires rise and fall, and records are often lost in the chaos of the aftermath. There have been a considerable number of sentient species that have made their way to the stars in just the last million years. Considering the vast distances, and the vast periods of time, we know quite a lot about the past, actually. And we are learning more, all the time." Charlie turned to look at the display. The tiny dot of a planet was visible now, centered in the view. They had yet to see a single piece of floating debris with their eyes, though Murcha assured them that they were passing through a very thick field of it. Only the powerful defensive technology of the Moth had kept the ship safe from harm. "I never asked you, Mike - how long ago was this battle fought?" "'Bout twelve thousand years?" Mike looked over at Pacha. "That right?" "Approximately. Perhaps a bit more. It occurred in the interval between the disappearance of the Beltracians, twenty thousand years past, and the rise of the present five empires, seven or eight thousand years ago." "Wow," Bobby said softly. "Wow." Charlie nodded. Wow was the correct word. Kippy stared at the distant world. "Do you think there's anyone left living there?" "I have detected no life at all, though there is something odd about the planetary scans. We'll need to get a little closer to determine the reason for this anomaly." When they were within five hours of travel left to reach planetary orbit, the world of Erenar was more than large enough to study, appearing even larger than the Earth did from lunar orbit. To say that this new world was peculiar looking was an understatement. Where the earth, as seen from her moon, was a large blue ball wrapped in the white swirls of clouded weather systems, and showing the distinct browns and greens of land masses, Erenar was a milky white orb with no features visible whatsoever. "It's huge," Charlie said, staring at the image. "Much larger than Earth, isn't it? I thought it was supposed to be an earth-like world?" "It is," Murcha returned. "What we are seeing is not the planet itself. It appears to be some form of defensive layer." "What's up with that?" Kippy asked. There was a shine to the white orb, almost a hard look about it, making the world look like a giant pearl floating there in space. "The planet appears to be shielded," Murcha announced then. "What we are seeing is a planetary defense barrier." Charlie stared at the world in the display. "You mean, like an energy screen or something?" "Yes. It reads as a polyphasic barrier, consistent with the defensive technology available in mid-expansion cultures." Mike shrugged. "So...what? It's pretty primitive compared to what you have available?" "Yes. It would be relatively ineffective against modern weaponry, and make a poor defense for a vessel. However, on a planetary scale, driven by ground-based power sources, it remains an effective physical barrier even today. The ship will not be able to break through it." Charlie felt the first touch of disappointment. "You mean we can't land?" "Not at this moment. Given time to diagnose the phasing pattern, and then to build the proper neutral pole, we could poke a hole in the shield and enter." There was something unenthusiastic about that response. Charlie frowned. "I'm guessing that might take some time?" "The phasing patterns are layered, and each is encrypted to the point of almost pure randomness. It's a fairly primitive defense by current standards, but the numbers that need to be crunched are huge. A larger, purposed encryption mind could probably break it in a few hours, but we don't have such a mind here. Onglet and I will have to tackle the job ourselves. I would guess it will take as long as a month to arrive at the correct solutions for all layers." "That sucks," Ricky said, stating the obvious. "We came all the way out here, and now we can't land?" "Wait one moment," Murcha said then. The view in the display suddenly zoomed in with incredible speed, causing everyone to gasp. Kippy's fingers tightened reflexively around Charlie's wrist, making him laugh. "Whoa!" "Sorry." Kippy flashed a smile his way. "I wasn't expecting that." "You and me, both." Charlie peered at the display, which was now showing a strange, eight-sided construction of some sort that actually seemed to be resting atop the white shielding. The thing was heavily damaged, scarred and blackened, with whole sections missing, through which the white of the shielding showed. "What's that?" Adrian asked, just before Charlie did himself. It was Illia who answered. "It would appear to be the terminus of a ground to orbit transport system. A space elevator." Charlie gaped at the screen. He had read about such things, which had been theorized back on earth. Humans were still working on a material strong enough and light enough to construct such a device, though with the synthesis of carbon nanotubes and diamond nanothreads, it would not be long in coming. But... "I know a little about this," he said. "There's supposed to be a huge counterweight at the space end, and it's supposed to be well above geostationary orbit." "The shield itself supplies the necessary tension to allow the elevator tube to function," Onglet replied. "Although a construction of energy, the shield's polyphasic nature gives it the solidity of matter. A null collar about the base of the terminus pierces the shielding, through which passes the tube of the ground to orbit carrier. The actual terminus station rests atop the shielding, and provides the anchor for the upper end of the elevator." Charlie shook his head. "The shield would have to rotate at exactly the same rate as the planet for the elevator tube to work." "It does," Illia said. "The shield orbits with the planetary equator, in precise alignment. There appear to be other terminals spaced about the circumference of Erenar, all above the equator." Charlie blew out an excited breath, once again amazed at the sort of technology he was seeing out here in the galaxy. And according to Murcha, this was primitive by modern galactic standards! "Have you detected any life below?" Pacha asked. "No. The shielding tends to attenuate the scans somewhat, but the surface seems barren of life." "They must have abandoned the place after the battle," Ricky suggested. "I mean, it was just built as a lure for the Karchee, right? They wouldn't have had much use for the place after it was all over." "Perhaps," Murcha agreed, although the shipmind did not sound completely convinced by that reasoning. "Why is the shield still working, then?" Charlie asked. "I mean, if they all left the place, why is it still running after all this time?" Murcha sounded fascinated himself by this new experience. "Even mid-expansion era power technology was quite advanced. Ground-based systems of the sort that could power a defensive shield like this one would be enormous and redundant, and certainly built to last. The space elevator system was dependent on the shield for support, and the planet required it to keep at bay unwelcome visitors. I would think the shielding here was designed to be permanent." "Agreed," Onglet said. "Each terminal was probably shielded itself at some time, though that shielding was weaker than that of the planet itself, and evidently breached in the battle. The terminal structures themselves were damaged or destroyed. Certainly they were weak points, and indicative of a defect in defensive planning." Kippy's eyebrows went up. "You think all the terminals were destroyed?" Charlie grinned. "Can we circle the planet, Murcha, and see if any of them have survived?" "Proceeding." The terminal in the view slid away from their sight, leaving the hard white face of the shield to dominate the view. Pacha gave out a small laugh. "Are you hoping to find a working elevator down to the surface, Charlie?" Charlie shrugged. "Well, we can't take the ship through the shield. I don't see any other way down. Do you?" "No. But your daring consistently amazes me." Charlie laughed at that. "You mean if we find one that works, you're not coming along?" "Oh, I'll come along, definitely. Once on the surface, I can always teleport us back to the ship, if the need arises." The little koala offered him an almost-grin. "I am just thinking about the advisability of trusting a twelve thousand year-old elevator car in an unknown state of repair to safely carry us the approximately twenty-two thousand miles down to the planet's surface, without killing us in the process." Charlie smiled. "Well, when you say it that way, it doesn't sound like much fun!" Everyone laughed. But Mike turned to the Kift, a shade of doubt apparent on his features. "It will either work or it won't, right? I mean, if we get inside and it starts down, it should get us to the surface. I've yet to see any tech out this way that didn't have so many safeguards built in that it would just sit and rust rather than put someone in danger." "That's the technology we know," Kontus offered. The Trichani waved a hand at the screen. "We don't know anything at all about the things these people built." "It will be moot if we do not find a working car," Pacha offered. "Let us wait until then to decide." The next few terminal stations were like the first, soundly beaten by whatever forces had assailed them. But the seventh one they approached was noticeably different than the others. There were a few black weals across the armor of the outer structure, but they seemed not to have cut through. The terminal looked whole to a preliminary examination. "This terminal is registering a power signature," Murcha told them. "It has also made a query of some sort, which I take to be a 'what ship?' request." "Can we answer that?" Adrian asked. "Does anyone know the Athonara language?" "Some bits survive," Illia answered. "But this terminal will be looking for a specific military handshake of some sort. I doubt there is anything we can say that will cause it to open up and be friendly." "Well, what will happen if we don't answer?" Ricky asked. "Could it be armed?" Almost as if in response to his question, a white lash of fire whipped out, briefly washing out the image in the display. Charlie and the others flinched, but the ship didn't even vibrate, and in a moment the display cleared again. "An inconsequential hit," Murcha said. "I have disabled the weapon, and four others like it on the roof of the terminal. I have overpowered the safety protocols in the communication link and am making a direct call on the mind the runs this facility. It's defenses are minor by current standards, and it is...there." A vast section of the roof of the terminal slid back, revealing a large bay beneath, more than adequate to accept several vessels the size of Lollipop. In fact, there was already one ship inside...at least, that's what Charlie assumed it to be. It was boxy and slightly clumsy looking, and a far cry from the sleek ships of war that one would expect from a great galactic power. "Cargo module of some sort," Illia decided. "Still emitting a faint power signature, though at a level perhaps too low for operation." Their ship settled to the deck nearby the other craft, and the great door above them slid closed again. "I am pressurizing the bay," Onglet said. "The heat there is operative, but at a low level. You will need to dress warmly." Charlie looked around at the others. "So we're going?" "Should all of us go?" Kippy asked then. Ricky laughed at that. "Who would you suggest stay back?" "You'll need us!" Pip said immediately. "Right, Frit?" "We're going along," Frit said, firmly. "You'll need us to look out for you." Charlie smiled at that. "And you'll need us to look out for you! So I guess we're all going." He turned to look at Ragal, who had been watching and listening to everything with a big smile on his face. "And you, don't say anything about how much fun this is. Just come along, okay?" The alien laughed. "It's what I'm here for, Charlie." Charlie grinned, and then looked up at the overhead. "Murcha? What have you got in the way of space suits that would fit a crazy bunch of humans and elves, a Kift, a papa-sized bear, and a guy who came from a ring?"

Chapter 45. Rhys's glance switched from Ranevargar, sitting in the luxurious fur lining Maurice’s transport cavity, to watch and wonder if Kieran's swift approach meant anything more than eagerness to get going. A big smile and a quick hug as they readied themselves suggested this was Kieran without Ranevargar. "It's mostly me at the moment, Rhys, and I’ll be all myself as soon as Lady Narello is safely back in her Realm and Maurice is on his way." "Is everything all right? You looked like you were in a hurry?" "Everything’s good, Rhys, except we’re both gonked." Maurice’s protective flap started lowering and Kieran’s smile grew even stronger at the concerned touch to his brow. "That won't help, Rhys. It's our brains exhausted, not our bodies, and Ranevargar’s going to put us both in a kind of trance for as long as we need to recover properly ... Stay close. Maurice will take over while we’re out of it." "Out of it? You mean we won't be able to talk?" "I know. There’s so much to tell you but it’ll have to wait because the trance will be like sleep only deeper." Rhys had a strange sense that all the others were sharing his disappointment. Well, Kieran must be talking to them too. The Courtyard took on a blue tinge and the conversation halted with the distraction of Krol launching skyward and all the Realm Lords moving hastily clear. "We depart for the Central Grove. Rest and relax while we travel." That was definitely Ranevargar's signature voice and Rhys briefly wondered what was ahead. No, he was referring to their non-stop efforts since before daylight. Maurice’s upward glance showed Krol joining the formation of Guardians as its silent wheeling changed to purposeful direction. *** Everyone in the Courtyard watched in wonder as the blue glowing Dragon, wings now spread in unmoving splendour, lifted silently clear of the Castle. Powerful wing beats initiated a dramatic bank of direction change and motion. Aglaron, mind whirling with a gamut of thoughts and emotions, dismissed the wondrous images of the construct and turned to Uirebon. "Keryth's conditioning distresses me, Uirebon, and he gave no indication of a resolution." Empathy flowed. "We will continue to know him as Kieran while he makes that resolution, My Lord. I suspect that private session with Maynor was connected in some way and I eagerly anticipate our meeting in a week's time." "Yes ..." Lady Narello's presence disappeared as her elegant form morphed to that of her tall envoy and Aglaron's contemplation was lost with the awareness of Maynor's silent attention. "Maynor watches with his mind shuttered and an appearance of apprehension. Can he be expecting me to ignore Keryth's protection?" "He knows you have cause, my Lord. Maybe he expects a negative but technically acceptable reaction of some kind." "He knows me better than that. My clear displeasure and silent dismissal will be enough. Learn the way of communication with these wondrous Guardians while I dismiss him to his Realm." At Aglaron's authorative gesture Maynor moved, with his Power Master, to the harnessed Griffins they’d arrived on and climbed into place. As soon as they were goggled and secure the Griffins received their release and climbed skyward. "Astonishing, their minds are shielded." "Yes, Maynor has experience with their control, remember. Keryth wants them free when they complete their task." The High King pointed to seven Griffins perched at vantage points on the battlements. "The remaining Guardians have no restraints beyond an expectation of respect and care. We will make time to learn their ways as soon as possible, Uirebon. How long can you delay the return to your Realm?" "Days, my Lord. My Realm was unaffected by Maynor's assault and all the need is here and in the Gateway Realm. My triads, with their indefinite stay, will assist as they can. Also, we must study the reconfigured Nexus." "The Nexus? Uirebon, the Nexus functions as never before. Repair and restoration elsewhere must take priority." "Of course, but Keryth expressly sought my help with knowledge of its working, as well as information about the history of his Realm." "He did? ... And you wish to have this ready for our welcome? Then we will make it happen." *** When Kieran's grasp on his arm lost its firmness the query rising in Rhys's mind was quickly cut off. "Don't disturb him, Rhys. We must leave Kieran and the Maker to recover from their deep exhaustion. This time of travel will greatly help with their recovery." "Time of travel? That sounds like it’ll take a while?" "Well over an hour, Rhys, if we stay with our Gryphon escort." "Is Krol all right? I can't believe how much he’s been through today." A slight adjustment of wing action lifted Maurice above the Griffins and Rhys quickly found Krol positioned near the end of the second formation. "Why’s he way back there? He’s their leader." "He accepts the assistance of formation flying on my instructions, Rhys. The food gave him a boost but he needs more." "Ranevargar told Kieran that Krol would be okay for two or three weeks." "His memories show that he expended four or five weeks of normal effort in the five days of the quest." "I don't know how he did it. Kieran knew when he was weary but he never ever showed it." "It was a joint effort, Rhys, and you are all weary." An impression of Mr B very sensibly telling them all to relax and rest while they could, popped into Rhys's mind and made him smile. "Close your eyes, Rhys. Mr B has just requested that I put you all to sleep till we approach the Grove." *** Rhys blinked at the dark and stirred reluctantly. Not another one of Woorawa's early get-ups? Every part of his body said it wanted to do nothing. "It's late afternoon, Rhys, and I am not Woorawa." Sleepiness slipped away. "Maurice, what’s happened now?" "The Grove is close and I have woken you all to share in our approach. The Realm gathers to welcome the return of the Maker. Look." The view through Maurice’s eyes showed the Griffin escort winging it's way above a strange multicoloured cloud and the webs of drowsiness fled from Rhys's mind. "How can there be so many?" "The Guardians passed the news and the Realm responds. It is a wonder I thought you should all see." It was a wonder indeed. So many birds the ground below was blocked from view. A mass of dark birds wheeled in concert with a change of direction causing a chain reaction of response. Rhys recognised them as one of the types of wading birds they'd seen so abundant in the lagoons beside the big lake. Awareness switched abruptly to Kieran resting quietly against his side. "Yes, Rhys. Kieran and the Maker show no sign of awakening and I am not to disturb them unless there is a situation I can't handle." There was a muffled laugh which sounded like Woorawa. Treetops appeared far below when Dragon and Griffins left the massive flock behind and the convoy began to lose height. "We must be getting close to the Grove?" "Minutes, Rhys. This descent gives the Griffins a big increase in speed." Maurice’s view turned to the left and revealed another massive flock of birds. "Are they all heading for the Grove?" "Yes, Rhys. The abundance of life in this Realm is hard to comprehend. That is the seventh distinct flock we have overtaken." Rhys pondered that till the vegetation below became the viewpoint. "What sort of forest is that, Maurice? They can't all be Realm trees." Maurice’s eyes focused finely for a moment. " In my memory the Central Grove is a magnificent group of eleven trees, Rhys. The change after six hundred years is hard to comprehend, but those are definitely all Realm trees, bordering the river, as far as I can see." The Griffins wheeled and the new aspect, showing an end to the trees and the start of a familiar lake system, made Rhys want to yell with excitement. Maurice powered past the trees then veered and banked in a grand circle over the open plain and flared enormous wings to scoop air and touch down in a surprisingly elegant landing. "Why the surprise, Rhys?" Rhys, thinking about Kieran as their cover lifted, had other things on his mind. "What do we do about them? Will they wake up or will we carry them down? The four of us can do it if we’re careful." Mr B, Woorawa and Tan were now standing next to him. "They look too peaceful to move, Rhys. Maurice’s fur is soft, and if he closes his flap again they’ll stay comfortable." "Mr B is right, Rhys. Nothing will disturb them here with me." Tan and Woorawa were nodding their agreement. "I suppose. After doing everything together it feels like we’re deserting him ... I think I’ll stay close." "Unnecessary, Rhys. You are as close as a thought here in the Maker’s Grove. The hosts are eager to welcome you and Kieran will contact you the moment he is ready." Rhys turned at this mention of the hosts and his eyes widened. Host was the right description. There were so many of them ... And dwarfing them were five Panthers sitting regally on their haunches. He had to restrain his yell of greeting so as not to wake Kieran. "Well, I suppose Maurice will be enough to look after him ... Let's go! *** More than an hour passed before Kieran's return to awareness kicked into action with a hasty check of everyone's well-being and whereabouts. Ha! Lucky things. They were all relaxing somewhere in warm water. A peek through Rhys’s eyes showed Mr B next to him, all drowsy with his eyes closed. Woorawa was the same and Tan’s blissful smile ... was matched by the contentment pervading his mind. "They are being well treated, Kieran, and we will join them when we are ready. How are you feeling?" The channels between them were wide open so this was a kind of acknowledgement rather than a real query. "Kind of weird, Ranevargar. My mind feels like it's ready for anything and my body is all complaining and lazy." The mental equivalent of a laugh flowed to Kieran. "I am the other way round. My body has been deprived of action while my mind still wants to recover." Kieran's automatic probe to check the state of Ranevargar's mind revealed the usual bewildering degree of complexity, and buzz of activity too fast to follow, then a wonderful mix of achievement and gratitude. Whoops! He was looking way deeper than he meant to. His apology was cut off by a wash of welcome. "Delve deep, Kieran. Our merge was successful beyond expectation but several more practice sessions before the High King arrives would benefit us both." "We need to keep him thinking I’m a sort of super Realm Lord?" "A general precaution, Kieran, while you establish your independence." " Yes, there’s an awful lot to work out." "Indeed, Kieran, and before you rejoin your companions there are serious matters you must consider and resolve. Some you have wisely held at bay for lack of proper information and some are new or only lightly considered." "You mean about the High King? Everything you had me say to him is clear in my mind and we’ve got a week before we see him again, but you really mean Rhys don't you?" "I do, Kieran, but also Mr B. There is information I haven't yet given you." After the deep sharing of the mind merge Kieran wondered how that was possible and it heightened some puzzles he'd mulled, rather briefly, after the first merge at Maynor's Castle ... Was this the right time to air them?... Yes, with serious things ahead it was. "Ranevargar, I do trust you. You know that, but who are you really? Every time we do something you get more mysterious. Maynor's mind manipulation is kid stuff compared to what you can do ... and you bypassed the High King’s Nexus locks without even trying. I saw you ignore the golden helmet and make Maynor attack you instead of the High Castle ... And how come the other Realm Lords seem to think you’re kind of harmless and helpless when you've been doing stuff they’re clueless about. None of them could make a Realm tree or a Guardian, let alone a Dragon construct who can rule a Realm. Uirebon’s the Lore Master and he was completely baffled at the way you brought Lady Narello to the Council?" There was more, much more, but Kieran stopped with the strange mixture of amusement and empathy flaring from Ranevargar. "Kieran, I can only smile. Your questioning is mirrored by mine. The return of lost abilities and knowledge partially answers many of your questions but increases my bewilderment of who you are, or, rather, who you have become. My knowledge is ancient, garnered through the passing centuries that precede even Lord Uirebon's by a millennium. For almost five hundred years, till I sought greater fulfilment, I held, under another name, the keys to the Nexus." "You were the High King and you gave it up?" "Your grandfather was eminently suited to the position and won his challenge convincingly. Kieran, you can take any Realm Stone at will. You call power unknown in Faerie. Rhys brings healing. Woorawa sings and overrides even my Dragon’s power, and, just before we left the High Castle, Tan called truth from the High King." "He what?" "While we dealt with Maynor, Tan approached Aglaron, Uirebon and Lady Narello with an unknown aspect about him." "An aspect? What does that mean?" "I have no idea, Kieran. It was new for the Realms. Maurice recognised its significance and relayed his memories to us the moment we left Aglaron's privacy ward, but your mind was taxed and somewhat fuzzy by that stage." Fuzzy! Rhys was going to love hearing that. Kieran peeked again but Tan just felt like Tan. Yet another puzzle. "Ranevargar, I haven't got a clue how all these things are happening, except that it has to be connected with my Opal, so it's all a mystery to me too ... but I haven't been hiding stuff like you have." "There are no more secrets, Kieran. At the time I was concerned for your peace of mind while we confronted Maynor and Aglaron, but our merge has put an end to that" "Ha! Now I'm not fuzzy it's okay to disturb my mind?" A mix of concern and support washed strongly from Ranevargar. "Are you Keryth, an Elven Prince with two hundred years of life and heritage ... or are you Kieran, a human mix of predominantly manufactured memories and a short half year of real life?" Kieran was silent while he figured how to respond. "I am both, Ranevargar ... You are saying I have to be one or the other?" "The information I gained from Maynor shows clearly that, with every case like yours, the sense of human identity was lost when the conditioning was reversed." "You mean I wouldn't be me anymore?" "In essence ... Yes." Kieran's response was a while in coming. "That's ... That’s like dying. Ranevargar, I’d lose Rhys and everyone else. There’s no way that’s going to happen." More understanding flowed from Ranevargar along with a sense of sadness. "And what of Keryth's life and love? That is as real as yours." "Love?" "Of course, Kieran, the underlying situation that allowed all Maynor's manipulations." Kieran went quiet when a new understanding sent his thoughts whirling. "You said ‘is’, Ranevargar. You mean there’s someone here in the Realms?" "Yes, there is, Kieran. Someone who means as much to Keryth as Rhys means to Kieran. Someone who sacrificed his love because he was cruelly manipulated into believing it was the best thing to do for you." Puzzlement and curiosity passed with sudden and troubling understanding. "This is what you were keeping from me?" "Yes, Kieran. Keryth was heart bonded for two decades with Pethron, his quiet and gentle companion, till Maynor learned of the relationship and used it to further his own purposes." "Pethron? ... It doesn't stir any memories ... and he wasn't in Aglaron's mind." "You remember nothing of your Elven persona, Kieran, and Pethron was a factor of great concern in Aglaron's mind." Kieran jumped to the wrong conclusion. "Why? Has he hidden Pethron somewhere and he’s worried that I'll be angry if I know?" "Steady, Kieran. That is an overly hasty judgement. Everyone knew with complete certainty, Maynor's contrived certainty, that they were acting in your best interest." "So, he wasn't hidden?..." A new and disturbing realisation grew in Kieran's mind. "Is he waiting somewhere, still with a heart bond? I ..." Ranevargar interrupted forcefully. "Pethron currently has no memory of Keryth. He eagerly agreed to Maynor's suggestion that he watch and guide you through your time in the human world. Your father and Uirebon believed he was there to test the efficacy of the conditioning, but Maynor was expecting to manipulate your underlying attraction as a way to ensure continued exercises with Nexus power." "Underlying attraction? ... You mean ...?" "Yes, Kieran. Pethron has been with you all along in the human persona of Mr B." Kieran suffered a kind of mental speechlessness as the somewhat impersonal Pethron became the thoughtful and caring Mr B. "This is awful, Ranevargar. If we get Maynor to reverse Mr B's conditioning and not mine it will be cruel and sad for him. What am I going to do?" "I won't instruct you, Kieran. The decisions you face are so weighty they must be yours and yours alone, but I do have some thoughts you might like to consider." "Please. Share them with me." "You have your own well-being, the well-being of your friends, and your relationship with your father, along with the restoration and future pathway for a Realm to take into account. Mr B must have a full understanding of that pathway because any decision about his own reconditioning should be his." "I didn't mean I would make it for him, Ranevargar. You’ve been way ahead of me, that's all." "I know you didn't, Kieran. Now what do you think of ..." *** Rhys’s steady stream of queries to Maurice about Kieran and Ranevargar had at last brought a response that there were signs of stirring, and the four friends, accompanied by a group of hosts, were making their way to the clearing at the edge of the great Plain. "How long since we left them, Tan?" Tan checked his watch. "Just over two hours now. They must have been even more exhausted than we thought." "Yeah! I can't believe a healing boost wouldn't have helped." Woorawa paused at a junction to check the alternative trail. "Another track. I wonder how they stop themselves getting confused?" "They wouldn't get lost on that one. It looks major." Mr B agreed. "It certainly is, Rhys, and with all these hosts I'm not surprised it looks so used, and they do live here, Woorawa, so it's probably so familiar they don't even think about it." "I wonder if they’ve got a location sense like Kieran's ... We’ll probably have more waiting while he gets cleaned up." Mr B laughed. "Don't be so impatient, Rhys. We’re meant to be relaxing. The hot spring and fresh clothes will be a lot better for him than a boost ... I think Ranevargar will take over looking after us." Woorawa turned from checking the diverging trail. "He’ll probably confuse us with the hosts." Rhys gave a disbelieving snort. "Get real, Woorawa! Is he going to think one of the hosts painted himself black? You look like a dressed up lump of coal." Tan got rather indignant. "No he doesn't. These tunics look better on him than they do on the rest of us. He’s kind of ... distinctive." Rhys grinned knowingly while Mr B answered. "I agree with you, Tan. Though he’s kind of distinctive whatever he’s wearing." Woorawa shook his head, dismissing this nonsense. After a few minutes the trail ended and the huge form of Maurice, watching their approach with his great golden eyes, grabbed attention like a magnet. "Gods! He’s so big and his eyes feel like they’re sucking my mind away." "Ha! Impossible, Rhys, even for Maurice. You can't suck anything out of a vacuum." Rhys started to respond but a mass of movement brought an excited yell instead. "Gryl!" He started to run but after a few steps the moving mass of five special Panthers enveloped him, and then the others, in their second effusive reunion of intimate head butts and great rasping tongue lick's. "You great lump! I’ve already had a wash." That just brought more licks and a rather amused communication from Maurice. "More lumps, Rhys?" Rhys’s head turned and, after a parting neck hug, rushed to join Kieran and Ranevargar as they clambered from Maurice’s back. "Who are they, Ranevargar? I don't recognise these hosts, except for the distinctive looking lump of coal that must be Woorawa." "Stickybeak! Eavesdropper!" The first moment of meeting, both mind and body and totally personal, spread to include all the friends then changed, with Kieran's communication of shared accomplishment, to shared happiness. "Yes, my friends, the Dragon Quest has succeeded and we are safe at home. Come with me, while Kieran is refreshed, to receive the acclaim of my Realm." Rhys was reluctant, well they all were really, to be apart from Kieran any longer. Kieran lifted his arm and sniffed his nose as if disgusted. "I'll be back as soon as I can. I really need a good cleanup and I’m not going to wait till after the welcome." He gestured in Maurice’s direction then hustled off with several of the hosts. Rhys glanced at Maurice, wondering why they needed a welcome from him. "Not just a welcome from Maurice, Rhys. Kieran was indicating the gathering behind him." Ranevargar beckoned, then surprised the friends by nimbly returning to Maurice’s back, beckoning them to follow, then ascending to the smooth standing area of the big skin flap. Rhys was first and with every step his astonishment grew. On the left, behind the day’s five journey steeds, dozens more Panthers sat quietly on their haunches. To their right and hidden till now by Maurice’s great body, were rank upon rank of Griffins. The goosebumps already rising in his hair ran down his neck when his eyes lifted to the multitude of animals gathered as far as he could see. Woorawa's gasp of disbelief was echoed in various ways by Tan and then Mr B. The friends stared while the silence around them pressed with uncanny force. ***

Chapter 44. Kieran held Maynor with direct eye contact. "Now that they know the extent of your manipulations to the workings of their inner minds, your standing with those at this table is fallen low, perhaps beyond recovery. Nevertheless, for reasons of my own I lay it on this Council to leave you with full command of your mind and your Realm." Rhys, shocked out of his brain, held back a yell of protest, then almost smiled at Woorawa's gasp of disbelief and Tan and Mr B's stare of frozen disapproval. "Steady, Rhys. Trust in Kieran and the Maker." There was no time for a response because Lady Narello, indignation radiating with palpable force, leapt to her feet in angry protest. "High Lord Kieran, that is beyond acceptance. Lord Maynor subverted my mind. He must make recompense. Without re-education he will certainly worm his way into our thoughts and make challenge for the throne again. He must suffer ..." In midsentence she froze momentarily then with a sedate nod resumed her seat. "Wow! Kieran/Ranevargar must have said something pretty powerful." "Lady Narello, your concerns are cogent indeed but by the convention we have just affirmed, Maynor has the right of Challenge. Now that he is aware of them Lord Uirebon will learn ways to counter the tricks of manipulation. The matter of Challenge must be set to rest while the Realms recover. Lord Maynor, state your intentions clearly." "Intentions? ... I don't understand." "Yes, you do. Challenge now or make none for a period of five decades." Now it was the High King leaving his seat, not with Lady Narello's leap of indignation, but with a gathering aura of the dignity and authority these Realm Lords seemed to be able to switch on and off at will. Well, Kieran could do it better than any of them. Whoo! More drama. Rhys’s eyes darted back and forth then settled on Maynor's intense concentration. "Maynor is torn with temptation, Rhys. If he prevails against Aglaron the Council will be bound to give him fealty and he will be above consequence for everything he has done." "Is he strong enough to win? The King looks kind of unreal." "The High King's look is a projection, Rhys, but Maynor's aggregation of great external power for his unconventional challenge indicates he knew his personal strength would not be a match." "I hope he goes ahead then." "You do? ,.. Ah! You want to see him defeated." "I want to see him whipped like a puppy." "You conjure strange imagery with your thought, Rhys. Whipping a puppy?" Maynor studied the High King’s force of presence, and very willing readiness, before turning back to Kieran. "If I Challenge successfully will you offer proper fealty?" "Of course … and immediately institute my own formal Challenge." "… For the well-being of my Realm I accept your terms, but …" Turning suddenly to address Lady Narello he raised his voice. "He is Widderkin! The High King’s proclamation is invalid because, no matter his strength, this youth cannot be accepted as a Realm Ruler. He is Widderkin!" Lady Narello swayed strangely then rose in her place, a storm cloud of indignation transforming her features, and pointed dramatically at Kieran. "This revelation changes everything and demands I support Lord Maynor's objection. Deny him the title. No ruler can be Widderstricken. Never in all the history of the Realms has this been allowed." She turned her attention to the High King. "I insist." "What's wrong with her, Maurice? She looks crazy." "Maybe ..." "Calm yourself, Lady Narello. Your views are strong but unfounded. If Lord Uirebon agrees with Ranevargar's proposal your objection is noted but overruled." Uirebon nodded his assent and the whole assembly jolted in startlement at Lady Narello's scream of rage, then watched, transfixed, as her hands and arms moved with rapid gestures of power. "Holy hell! Maurice, she is crazy. What’s she doing now?" "Calling another Chaos creature ... Her mind is not her own." Rhys didn't answer because now the High King and Lord Uirebon were also on their feet, gesturing as well, with what must be a counter for the quivering emanation springing to life beside them. "She's attacking and it feels like a mini version of the Wall. Are we safe?" "I would have thought not, but the Maker/Kieran are expressing no concern ... I believe they may have been expecting something like this." A quiet but powerful flow of assurance from Kieran/Ranevargar quelled all the companions’ rising alarm as the sense of weird unreality grew stronger and stronger. Purple coruscations, backed by the yellow of Lord Uirebon's power, sparkled in brilliant display against increasing disorientation from the growing, writhing form. "It's too strong. The High King's losing." "Lady Narello has great knowledge of Chaos energy, Rhys, but the Maker/Kieran is ready. Watch!" And indeed, Kieran's arm left its support of Ranevargar and pointed with gentle but very deliberate intent at Lady Narello. The purple and yellow instantly gained strength as Lady Narello froze in place, transfixed with unseeing eyes. The Chaos incursion now shrank and disappeared, leaving all eyes studying the strangely disturbing statue aspect that Lady Narello had taken. "Lady Narello is without blame, Aglaron. The Chaos creature was called by a compulsion beyond her control, a hidden compulsion which Lord Maynor will remove before I release her mind to return to us." Maynor shook his head in denial. "Lady Narello called the incursion, I ..." "Maynor." Those listening sensed reproval, warning, command, all conveyed with the utterance of a single word. Maynor heard more, quailed visibly, then hastily nodded his compliance. "Yay! That's better. One word from Kieran stops all his blathering. Can you see what happened, Maurice?" "I saw no use of power, if that's what you mean, Rhys. Just a reminder of the consequences of resistance." "Every last vestige of influence and compulsion must be removed, Lord Maynor. Proceed so we can continue with the business of this Council." "The process is lengthy and requires long and deep concentration and you have placed her in a mind state I don't understand." "Use your emergency strategy and she will be with us in minutes." Utter disbelief crossed Maynor's features. "My strategy? ... How can you know of that? ... I ..." The disbelief faded to acceptance, and with a resigned nod of compliance his eyes closed again. In the silence that followed Uirebon shared his own disbelief with the High King. "Can this really be Keryth, my Lord? Maynor's demonstrated mastery of mind manipulation is clearly overmatched. We worked close and long with him before he went to the Old Continent, and while his potential was evident his skills were basic." "You know very well he is Keryth, unfathomable and transformed somehow, strange in this human persona you have given him. Behind all the difference though, Kieran has the personality and traits of Keryth. I have decided I trust him completely" Irony flashed. "Not that I am in a position to do anything else." "Have you considered the possibility he might have manipulated our own minds in his favour?" "A possibility with no probability of execution. Kieran has influenced my thoughts with persuasive explanation and discussion and no other means." Aglaron stopped this communication because Maynor's deep concentration was clearly finished. "Lady Narello." The motionless form softened, then transformed with the return of awareness and obvious bewilderment, and turned to Kieran. "What ... What happened? I was consumed with anger and suddenly I feel at ease." "I quietened your mind. You were compelled to call a Chaos incursion against us so I quietened your mind while Lord Maynor removed his web of influence and restored your mind to independence." "The red web? ... It is gone?" "Yes, the deep web which has influenced your decisions for more than a century." Lady Narello shook her head. "How can it be possible. I make my own decisions and my mind has strong protections." "You think so? Why then did you decide to cede control of all your great Power Masters to Lord Maynor?" "I ... It was ... I don't know." "What was the purpose of the power displays at your mutual boundaries?" "Lord Maynor made contest and I responded in kind. I ..." "And yet you gifted him with with energy drawn countless times from the Outer Chaos." "I ..." "Yes, Lady Narello, the control was insidious and masterful but know with certainty that your mind is now your own." Lady Narello turned her gaze on Maynor. "Whoo! Look at that, Maurice. She’s not happy." "Yes, Rhys. Maynor is increasingly isolated." "What was that quieting thing when she froze? Do you know how to do that?" "I don't know everything the Maker knows, Rhys but I hope he will gift me such useful knowledge at some stage." Rhys's communication with Maurice was now completely interrupted because, in front of the whole assemblage, Kieran's arms were suddenly enfolding him in a great bear-hug. His eyes widened at the unexpectedness and with a happy rush of exuberance he lifted Kieran off his feet and whirled him in a full 360 before looking to see if there was any message as well. Kieran gently bumped foreheads then, after a tingle raising look, took his hand and turned to those watching from across the table. "Yes, Lady Narello, I am indeed Widderstruck, accept it or not as you will, but know that my Realm is Widderfriendly and my friend and companion will expect any visitor to respect that." Rhys felt strange when every eye turned on him. That stopped with Kieran's soft laugh. "Not these four. They are more than friends." His head lifted to the great golden eyes watching so keenly from above and behind. "Maurice is the Guardian of my Realm, the protector of those who come with good heart, and foil against those who don’t. Maurice is the greatest Guardian, waken to full potential after 600 years, and a new thing. Maurice, now my friend and companion, is the one who will test intent." Rhys expected Maurice to make a great roar or rear in acknowledgement with a spread of wings, but instead he lowered his head to receive a gentle touch from Kieran's free hand. Wow! Somehow it was more significant than any display of power. "Yo, everyone! That’s cleared up mostly everything from our side. We’ll sit down now while the Council works out what it’s going to do about Maynor. Ranevargar and I have to get him by himself for a while but then we’re out of here." "Is that you, Kieran?" "About 90% for a while, Rhys. This mind sharing stuff is amazing but it’s really hard work and Ranevargar is relaxing as much as he can while the Council talks." "What’s going on with the High King? He acts like you, and Maurice says it is not a projection or some kind of trick." "Yeah! Ranevargar knows everything but I haven't found out properly myself yet. Part of it’s why we need a special session with Maynor but it’s scary complicated and we’ll have a big talk as soon as I get it worked out." "Scary?" "Not danger scary ... Whoops! Here comes Ranevargar again, Lady Narello’s freaking out and we’ll have to calm her down again. She looks and feels like she’s physically here but she’s not and it needs our double mind to sort it out." Lady Narello, who had once again risen from her seat, sat down, closed her eyes briefly, then nodded to the High King with a look that said that whatever she’d been about to say didn't matter. Aglaron took over and made a series of pronouncements which no one even questioned. In fifteen minutes the Meeting was all over and Rhys, along with Mr B, Tan and Woorawa, as he found out later, was wondering why they’d even needed a meeting about Maynor being confined, along with a lot of gobbledygook limitations, to his own Realm for the next fifty years, most of them about repairing damage caused by the Challenge. Ranevargar/Kieran offered four of the Ruby gemstones with their great store of energy as a help but otherwise said very little till the High King pronounced the meeting finished. "High King, other matters are calling us but before we leave Lord Ranevargar and I will speak privately with Lord Maynor. Will you grant us a warding?" Aglaron looked surprised then hurriedly agreed. At Kieran's signal, Maynor moved to join them near Maurice, where they all disappeared inside an opaque curtain of purple glowing light. Rhys smiled at the curious expressions across the table then shared a look with Woorawa, Tan and Mr B before trying for his own answers. "Why can't we see them, Maurice? Do you know what they’re doing?" "I have no idea, Rhys, apart from the fact that it is something extremely important. The High King has simply provided the privacy Kieran/Ranevargar asked for." "Can you see through it?" "Yes, but then it wouldn't be private." "Ha! What's the use of a Dragon who won't do what I tell him?" "I abase myself at the feet of the mighty Warrior." Woorawa turned in his seat to give Rhys questioning look. "What's funny, Rhys?" "Nothing, just Maurice being cheeky." "He never gives me cheek. He’s really clever isn't he?" "Ha very ha!" Mr B and Tan turned now. "Shoosh, Rhys! Everyone’s listening. You'll give them a weird impression of Maurice." "Too bad! Little pigs have big ears." Mr B nodded because, in essence, he agreed, then wondered if the exchange of smiles between the High King and Lord Uirebon meant they knew they were the target of Rhys's comments. With a little nod the High King leaned forward and spoke softly. "Yes, Mr B. The gathered Court listens and marvels at the audacity of a welcome visitor likening their High King to a piglet. Surely, if you were in our position, you would seek to gather every morsel of information you could?" "Rhys didn't really call you piglets. It’s a saying." "Of course, but curious words can effect curious consequences." Mr B puzzled on that and glanced for Rhys's reaction ... Embarrassment ... Maybe a little worry? The puzzling stopped because when the High King's hands moved gracefully in front of him the features of the closest attendant wavered and grew a pig snout. Oh my! The hand movements continued and every head around the courtyard was suddenly a porker watching with twitching ears and a bristly snout. Curious consequence was for sure, and Mr B wondered if the raised eyebrows and questioning look now directed at Rhys was the precursor for the next logical consequence. Ha! Rhys's startled look and sudden strong inwardness meant he was probably yelling to Maurice for protection. He was. "Quick, stop him, Maurice. He is going to do it to me." "The mighty piglet wants protection from the cheeky Dragon?" "Look at him. You can see it in his eyes." "I most certainly can. Hold ... I think Mr B is giving his support." "Think?" "Yes, he says I should save your bacon. Isn't that support?" "Very funny!" Mr B dodged the great whack directed at him. "What was that for?" "Making weak puns!" "Only in my mind. I didn't expect Maurice to pass it on." "Relax, Rhys. For a moment there the High King was strongly inclined to direct a projection only your friends could see but he wasn't sure how you'd react." "You’re watching what he’s thinking?" "Only his surface thoughts, while the Maker is busy behind the privacy ward." "Wow! Does he know you’re looking? Don't you have to get permission? Ranevargar always does with us." "This could hardly be called a normal situation, Rhys, but he is aware of the observation and thinks it is Kieran." "What? You’re listening with Kieran's signature or something?" "Yo, Rhys! Why don't you turn around and gaze into my golden eyes for a while?" The sound of Kieran's mental voice made Rhys twist towards the purple glow till the golden eyes part registered properly. "Holy hell! Don't do that, Maurice. It's too ... I don't know ... too weird." Maurice’s familiar mental voice returned. "Yes, Rhys, quite disturbing for a recipient, and I only employ it at the Maker's request." "Is it hard to do? You must be good if you’re tricking the High King." "If he looked carefully he’d know, but he holds his mind wide open for Kieran and the Maker in the hope of gleaning information. Kieran's actions have challenged his understanding of what is possible in the Realms." "And he finds time to think of making me look like a piglet? ... He should turn Maynor into a snake or a headless chook or something." "Against the protection Kieran has granted and his own guarantee? Hardly. Your reaction has impressed him though." "Impressed? With me?" "He is enjoying your slight indignation and comparing it with the image Kieran/Ranevargar gave him of the monster being destroyed by a Spook rope. Of course he is impressed." "Well don't tell him I yelled for you to protect me then." Rhys checked the purple privacy ward again but there was no sign of anything happening, then took one of the pieces of honey bread Woorawa was offering around. So nice after days of trail biscuits. Yes, their next food time might be quite a while yet if Maurice was held to Griffin speed. He looked around and took in the strong sense of expectancy from the hushed onlookers crowding the edges of the Courtyard and wondered what they were thinking about. It must be Maurice mostly, especially with Kieran and Ranevargar and Maynor hidden from view and the High King and Realm Lords across the table sitting so quietly. Gods! There were elves lining balconies at every level. "These are momentous events, Rhys, not least of which is my presence, and all are wondering what it means." The surprise of Tan leaving the group and walking around the table to approach the High King pushed a query about numbers from Rhys's mind. "What’s he doing, Maurice? Did you get a message from Kieran or Ranevargar?" "It's his own initiative, Rhys, quite impromptu. He suddenly decided to talk to the High King while we are waiting." The High King twisted awkwardly in his seat then, when Tan inclined his head in a low-key gesture, stood to return in kind. "You are the High King of all the Realms?" Surprised at this statement of the obvious showed clearly. "I am indeed, young human. And you are Tan, companion to Kieran?" "Friend, rather." The High King's head lifted when Tan continued. "Lord Ranevargar asserts that you have integrity. Will you be kind to Kieran and give him respect?" Rhys grabbed Mr B's arm and called to Maurice. "He just kind of told the High King off. Will he be okay? The King’s staring at him." "The High King is startled and uncertain and seeks advice in how to respond." Indeed, Aglaron was in hasty communication with Uirebon. "Is this a confrontation, Uirebon? What do we know of this youth.?" "Only the information Maynor took while he had brief contact. Intelligence, thoughtfulness and a sense of calm are the clearest qualities. We know nothing else and those shields make him an enigma. His manner suggests nothing to me but a deep concern for your intention toward Keryth. Answer honestly and from your heart." "Of course, but despite the air of compulsion I will be circumspect." "For my part Kieran, the new Realm Lord, has all the gratitude that is within me. My heart is open to him and the respect you seek already approaches the level of awe." Tan nodded quiet acceptance and faced the Lore master. "Lord Uirebon, Lore master and Realm Ruler?" Taken aback, it was now Uirebon's turn to stare. "My Lord, I feel strangely vulnerable." A wisp of amusement accompanied Aglaron's reply. "Answer honestly and from your heart, Uirebon and it will pass." "I am all those, Tan. What would you ask me?" "The same question. Will you be kind to Kieran and give him due respect?" Uirebon rose from his seat and spoke with formal intensity. "Kindness is a curious request to make of a Realm Lord, friend of Kieran, but I offer it in what measure I can. The respect due for the reclamation of a Realm is beyond me, but what I am able I also offer in full." "Maurice! What the hell’s going on? They look like naughty kids in front of their teacher." "Quiet, Rhys. This is beyond me and every detail and nuance must be gathered for the Maker/Kieran's consideration." "But..." "Lady Narello, Realm Ruler?" Rhys, Mr B and Woorawa exchanged disbelieving glances as the formula repeated. "... The anger of my ignorance was calmed with kindness, friend of Kieran. I am honoured to offer kindness and respect in return." Tan’s head inclined slightly with his third nodded gesture of acknowledgement then he walked round the table and, ignoring the wondering looks from Mr B, Rhys and Woorawa, sat in his chair and closed his eyes. Woorawa's puzzlement was instantly concern and, dropping to the seat beside Tan, he pulled him close with an arm across his shoulders. "Is everything all right?" Tans eyes opened and he was himself again. "That was ... strange." Mr B was kneeling in front of him and Rhys, one hand resting on his head in case he needed healing, was yelling Woorawa's same question at Maurice. "All I see is the bewilderment you all share. He wants to explain because your concern worries him. Listen." "I’m all right, Woorawa. I think Kieran or Ranevargar must have done something because I had to ask them their true thoughts." Mr B expressed the watching friends' puzzlement. "True thoughts?" "Yes, they all meant exactly what they said. The only ruler Kieran might have to worry about is Maynor." At this point Tan looked at the said rulers with an expression which Aglaron interpreted as embarrassment and apology. "What are we seeing, Uirebon? Keryth's quiet friend shows bewilderment for his own actions." "My Lord, the more I see the less I understand. Mystery increases at every turn. There was an element of compulsion but I discount Maynor as the source. Maybe Keryth sought a stronger affirmation of our intent?" Aglaron dismissed that instantly. "Keryth is eager to meet us at Ranevargar's Central Grove. We will seek an explanation then ... Observe the fierce support he receives, Uirebon. It is a real force." Keryth, no, Kieran, appeared through the purple privacy ward and clearly startled, abandoned both Ranevargar and Maynor and rushed to join his companions. With his hand resting on the quiet friend’s brow his gaze turned to settle for a short time on the Dragon. Aglaron watched as what was clearly surprise ended with and assured nod and a lowering of tension ... Tension?? "Keryth was preparing to act, Uirebon, and the Dragon calmed him." Any reply was cut off by Keryth. "Tan is now himself and the impetus for his curious but beneficial approach has passed. High King, our day has been overly eventful. Lord Ranevargar needs the tranquillity and restoration his Central Grove will give, and the day has been long and trying for my friends. Assist Lord Ranevargar while he gives you control of seven Guardians. He offers three for the High Realm and two each for Uirebon and Lady Narello while the portal structure is dysfunctional, though you may delegate them however you wish. Two protected Guardians will fly to Ranevargar's Central Grove after returning Lord Maynor and his attendant to his Realm." Assist? Yes, he did look weary. Aglaron moved quickly and was touched by the smile of gratitude as Ranevargar accepted the offer of a supporting arm. Five days of mind and body paralysis was unconscionable and definitely warranted that quite pointed denial of any Griffin transport. Sympathy and concern were deferred when an unexpectedly robust transfer of information pressed into his mind. Seven links, sparkling with life, sprang into being and along with them the keys for both communication and control ... no, agreement to cooperate rather than control. The aspect of these Guardians made the Fetch constructs looked pale and dreary. Ranevargar’s suggestion to check the new links resulted in a short but startlingly clear view from one of the Castle Ramparts. With eyes like these the Coursers would be redundant. Impressions and consideration must wait, though, because they’d reached the flank of the Dragon. Ranevargar wished him well and, cutting their communication, took the steadying hand of the Warrior to help with the climb. The Dark Child scrambled hurriedly to help, and after Pethron and the quiet one had followed, Keryth turned to Lady Narello who wasn't quite able to hide her wariness at being so close to the Dragon, and extended both arms to offer the double handclasp of honour and respect. She accepted instantly, but Aglaron noted that, if anything, her wariness increased. The wariness changed to eagerness, even excitement, and Aglaron noted yet another thing to discuss with Uirebon. How could Keryth know that inclusion would be so important to Lady Narello? He’d only just recognised it in her himself ... Was he still in private communication? "I am honoured, High Lord Kieran, though the prospect of a journey with these Guardians daunts me." Keryth smile indicated he understood she was far from daunted. "Lord Uirebon." Uirebon leapt for the offered handclasp then closed his eyes in concentration while it lasted. "Through Lord Ranevargar? ... Indeed Lord Kieran. The prospect is exciting and the resources of my Realm will be stretched with assistance to the Gateway Realm, but we will find a way." Aglaron didn't wait for the offer of a handclasp. He made his own and invested it with all the authority and meaning he could. The personal communication he was yearning came, not as words but as a wash of understanding, gratitude and admiration. The quiet words which followed were short. "One week, father!" Keryth, no, it was still Kieran despite the offered bridge, turned to the Dragon then back again with a smile. "I will scramble this time. Maurice’s ascent will be impressive enough as a display." Aglaron watched the nimble climb and the lowering of the protective flap, then his thoughts turned so deeply inward that the astonishing ascent of the Dragon was lost to him till Uirebon later shared the memory. ***

My mom had all the house windows cleaned, and they look great. Alas, three of the screens refused to go back in their proper places. The kitchen one is warped, don’t bother says my mom. Ha! Saying that to me is tantamount to telling a bull to ignore the red cape A few struggles later, and all three screens are back where they should be. Never could resist a challenge. Just ask, @Carlos Hazday, he’ll tell you as he sent me on many a mission (damned carrot! ) to verify something way back when in a CJ chapter. Not always on purpose mind you, but once my curiosity was piqued? I couldn’t rest until I found the answer to the query he posed. Edit: Oh, and the kitchen screen wasn’t warped, it was just being difficult.

I wake the next morning feeling rested but tired all the same. Some groggy beast has taken over my senses and I can barely open my eyes which now carry an insolent lead like quality. I reach for my phone resting on a red ocher bed stand. Tilting it towards me, a blistering bright light, almost blue in nature, causes me to squint my eyes before I'm able to adjust. Noting the time I realize I'm late. "Crap", I verbalize. I don't know if I have time to shower, so I throw on my nearest clothes, spray a ton of deodorant and grab my bag, hoping my hair is slightly tasseled and not as elegantly terrifying as a dear recently hit by a truck. I pop my earphones in and head to campus, waving to Earl the bus driver. He smiles an odd smile, happy to be noticed but yet it seems to emanate a discrete sadness. A reminder that not many people take him into account, merely considering his being as an inconsequential part of their routine existence, albeit the fact that we are all entangled in each others lives. The bus pulls to a halt, it exhales a disappointed sigh as the doors screech open. I step onto the cement grey curb and breathe in deeply, taking in the lingering scents of fast food mingled with the light fragrance of cigarette smoke and booze, in my opinion the epitomy of college life. The song changes, accompanying the scenery in an interesting fashion, almost exposing the landscape in greater detail. For awhile I become absorbed by it. Intrigued by the simple complexities taking shape, going unnoticed by those too preoccupied with hastily living out their lives to appreciate it. There seems to be a rather large crowd gathering near the entrance of the lecture hall. It looks like a group of people swooning over some guy. I guess he's attractive but something about his face is distinctly familiar, I just can't put my finger on it. He seems to be passing out his contact info. I overhear him whisper, "Call me if you need someone to rock your world." Wow. What a boner killer. He, unfortunately, catches my distasteful gaze, possibly mistaking it for something else. "Hey, my name is Azrael. What's yours?", he says, turning to me with the most condescending smile I've ever seen. Perhaps he thinks I'll grovel at his feet, grateful to be breathing the same air as him. Unfortunately looks can only get you so far without a degree of good nature or class a I prefer to call it. He bites his lip and watches me expectantly. "I'm not interested.", I say coldly as I push past him to grab a seat. I whip out my books and start jotting down notes as the lecturer begins to talk. The annoying man plops down next to me. "Is this seat taken?", he asks. "Help yourself.", I say sarcastically, gesturing, under my breath. "Thanks.", he winks, still oblivious, not really getting the point. He tries to talk to me but I profusely ignore him, hoping he'll go away and at some point during the lecture he leaves. Thank God. When I get home, I'm standing outside my apartment door. I reach for my keys and notice the door is left ajar. I walk in quietly, down the corridor and into the kitchen, making sure I grab a knife for you know self-defense. The t.v in the living room is softly blaring. I can make out a figure sprawled on the sofa munching on a bag of chips. I edge closer, when one of the floorboards creaks. He gets up and turns to face me, I'm taken off guard. It's that guy from the lecture. He smiles sweetly and asks, "Where have you been? I've been waiting for you." "What do you mean? What are you doing in my apartment?", I say raising the knife defensively. "Oh that", he chuckles, "Well before you get mad, I don't think you know who I am." "I don't care if you're the Queen of England, that doesn't explain what you're doing in my apartment?", I retort angrily. "Well do you remember that wish you made yesterday?", he questions. My mind recalls the entry. "Yeah, and what's it to you?", I query, raising an eyebrow amusingly yet still ensuring that I'm on guard. He's probably a psychopath. In situations like this, I think it's best to keep the conversation going till you can figure out a gameplan. "Well the other Gods think you need divine intervention, so that's why I'm here.", He grins devilishly. "You're crazy. I'm calling the police.", I say, firmly grasping the knife protectively in my hand and reaching for the phone in my back pocket. "Wait no, I can prove it.", he exclaims, snatching the knife from me. "You see, I'm the God of Death, mere mortal weapons can't hurt me.", he slices his arm, conjuring a grotesque amount of blood. "Fuck", he groans. "What are you doing?!", I yell. He drops the knife and without thinking, I rush over. "Stupid Greater Gods!", he cusses, clutching his arm, as the blood drips to the floor, "They said they'd limit my powers but not make me mortal." "Uhmm, okay!", I exclaim, "Stay there, I'll be right back." I hurry out of the room to grab my first aid kit. "Where would I go? It's not like I can make it very far with an injury like this. I'll probably bleed out before I get to the door.", he yells down the hall. I return, giving him a bemused look, "That's a tad bit dramatic. By the look of it, if you frequently 'charm' people into bed as you did earlier, you'd sooner die from an STD." "Okay, first, Ouch. That was a low blow, I've never had to worry about that when I was a God and two, I've never bled before but from my experience, all the humans I've seen die afterwards." I purse my lips. He's defintley a loon. Delusion of Grandeur perhaps? "I'm going to need you to take off your shirt", I say indifferently. "That escalated quickly, I'm bleeding out here but hey, they say you should always die doing what you love and to be fair, I wouldn't mind having sex with you either. Even if I die during it.", he grins. "That's not what I meant!", I blush heavily, "It would be easier to treat your wound if you did". "Fine, could you help me?", he asks as I begin to slip off his long sleeve top. He watches me in his skin-tight jeans and muscular, toned body and I feel embarrassed. I apply pressure with one hand and slowly dab a piece of cotton with saline solution to the area, to try and clean around it. "Fuck, that's cold.", he groans. "Could you not make this weird for me?", I ask nicely. "Sure but why are you so freaked out?", he beams, "I think I know why." "Why?", I ask curiously. "You're still a virgin", he sings. "And so what if I am. As a matter of fact, I'm saving myself till the right guy comes along.", I say proudly. "You sweet thing. I know more than anyone that time is short and you shouldn't waste it like that, albeit how admirable your conviction is." "Whatever. Are you suggesting what I think you are?", I retort. "Maybe I am.", he smiles, wiggling his eyebrows. "Maybe I'll consider it.", I state coldly. "Really?!?", he suddenly perks up. "Yeah.When my standards drop.", I say avoiding his gaze. "Ouch.", he chuckles. By the time I'm done cleaning the caked blood, I notice that the wound is gone. "This doesn't make any sense.", I comment. "Well, would you look at that", he remarks, "So they didn't forsake me after all." "So you weren't joking about anything were you?", I ask. He shakes his head.