Author’s Foreword

I suppose I could say, “This is it! The story I’ve been waiting to write for a quarter of a century!” I could say that, but it would not be entirely accurate. It has only been a little over twenty-four and a half years. More seriously, when I started the original Maiyim series, starring Silverwind, Oceanvine and their kid sidekick, Candle, I had no plans to write more than the first four books. Hah! Back then my plan was to sell the first book before writing the other three. Good plan, but it did not work out.

As I have explained elsewhere, I did not come up with the idea for a continuation of the first series until I had just finished it. I have to admit that while I did imagine both Ars Nova Magica and Ars Sceintiaque Magicae at the same time, I initially discarded the idea for this final series because the idea of an alien invasion of a futuristic Maiyim just sounded silly. Put that way, I think it still does… but I wrote it anyway and maybe I’m a little biased, but I think it turned out all right.

Somewhere along the way I started writing all the books of this series in the autumn. I am not sure exactly when I started that; probably by the third book Island of Fire. It is going to seem strange not to have another Maiyim novel to write this year, but I think I’ve brought this series to a conclusion.

It’s always a great feeling of accomplishment to finish a series and this even more so, since it has actually been three series with some interconnecting short stories and novels. Counting Lift Off which was really about the Tzali and never mentioned Maiyim, I have written sixteen novels and six novelettes and novellas in this triple series. Yeah. I think that’s enough.

So here, at last, the story that ties it all together. I hope you enjoy it.

Jonathan E. Feinstein
Westport, MA
June 4, 2015

Prologue: Asteroid 2572-XY37

Teri Baileach-Ferslakach whispered to her co-wife, “How long has he been like that?” She was a typical Tzali woman of the fleet; about five feet tall and with light brown hair covering her upper body. She was wearing what on the Homeworld would have been a man’s clothes; trousers of a sturdy dark green cloth and a gray shirt with four sleeves to accomodate her double-jointed arms and prehensile middle limbs. On Tzal, a proper woman would never have exposed her middle limbs, although men did as a matter of course. Back home, such behavior in a woman was unspeakably lewd, but here on the fleet, those middle limbs were frequently used for grasping and were essential for survival. Only a fool would trade survival for propriety. The shirt was never worn tucked-in, which allowed her long hairless tail freedom of motion in the back.

“Since just after breakfast,” Rini Ferslakach replied just as softly. She was dressed similarly, although her trousers were tan and she wore a red shirt. Their husband, Kenek Ferslakach, was standing by a wide viewport staring out into the space outside the Tzali asteroid base. His clothing was of a similar style, but looked as though he had been sleeping in them for a week. “Ever since Maiyim came into view,” she added.

“He’s been doing that a lot lately,” Teri observed. “Others in the pack have noticed.”

“Does his single-mindedness and concentration on our objective worry them?” Rini asked, trying to spin Kenek’s obsession with the world they were trying to conquer in a positive light.

“It worries all of us, Alpha Prime,” Teri replied formally.

“You don’t often address me by that title,” Rini noted.

“We normally discuss matters as equal wives of Prime Kenek,” Teri pointed out, “but at this moment I am talking to my pack leader.”

“Kenek is your leader too,” Rini pointed out.

“But I am talking to you,” Teri maintained. “He is talking to the world of Maiyim, I think.”

There was a long pause until Rini broke the silence. “It worries me too. He is not in a trance. We could get his attention if we spoke louder, but unless otherwise occupied, he stares at that world whenever it is in view. It won’t be much longer, though.”

“True,” Teri nodded. “In another hour, the rotation of this base will cause it to set below our horizon.”

“That too,” Rini nodded, “but I meant that we are nearly ready for our final assault on Maiyim. The base on the south polar island is fully manned and armed.”

“Robander,” Teri identified the island. Rather than renaming locations on Maiyim, the Tzali had chosen to use the same names the indigenous people did. It was convenient and less confusing when they managed to intercept and decrypt messages. “But we lost our clawhold on the moon, Midbar.”

“You know we never meant to stay on Midbar as long as we did,” Rini reminded her. “That was just supposed to be a place from which to stage our raids on the planet, but the Maiyimites have proven more powerful than we might have expected for a people who have not yet developed interstellar travel.”

“They are capable of interplanetary voyages, however,” Teri argued, “and before we arrived some of them were mining asteroids in the outer system. I believe we underestimated them out of snobbery. Having a drive that can move us from star to star does not increase the magnitude of our weapons. It certainly does not increase our strategic and tactical abilities. The people of Maiyim are as intelligent and clever as we are. Yes, we have a more advanced technology on our side and they still cling to the primitive superstition of magic, but there are more of them than there are of us.

“Also,” Teri continued, “While we have the base on Robander, none of our attempts to establish a holding further north have been successful. We do not yet have sufficient strength on Maiyim to do so.”

“We could destroy the Maiyimites in a day with nuclear weapons,” Rini pointed out.

“That would also destroy us,” Rini argued. “We need the world in a liveable condition. We no longer have the resources to move on to another system. We must make Maiyim our home or die.”

“You are correct,” Rini admitted, “but our victory is not assured. The Maiyimites have nuclear power too, you know.”

“But they have not used it against us.”

“They no more want to foul their world than we do,” Rini replied. “These people are neither stupid nor foolish, although I imagine they have as many fools among them as we do. The Council of Alphas is pressing us to move ahead with the final assault.”

“I know,” Teri nodded. “I argued against it, you may recall. This base will not be in its optimal position for another year. The Council was split on the issue.”

“The Council met again this morning while you were on patrol,” Rini informed her. “Somehow a lot of alphas were unable to attend for one reason or another. The vote was in favor of attacking now.”

“You and Kenek are our Primes,” Rini told her. “You have the final say.”

“True,” Rini nodded, “but we have always led by consensus. We have allowed the Council to have a say in these matters and, while I do not like to admit it, there is a real possibility that by the time we can reach a parking orbit above Maiyim we will no longer have the force to conquer the world. That would mean death to Ferslakach. We must move up the assault. Even now, Wraen is making the preparations. Kenek and I are waiting for her report, so unless she advises to wait…”

“Since when has Wraen ever wanted us to wait before fighting?” Teri asked a little too loudly.

“Shh!” Rini admonished her co-wife, glancing at Kenek. He did not seem to have heard them. Whispering again, Rini continued, “Wraen may be the most aggressive Tzal I ever met, but appointing her as our military commander was inspired. If she were a member of Ferslakach, she might decide to challenge for the position of Alpha Prime, but she is a zemazt, a loner so she has no desire to lead the pack. Strength without the usual liabilities.”

“All of our zeslazti and zemazti are like that,” Teri agreed. “Loyal to the fleet, and some of our strongest, most respected members, but not in line to be a pack alpha. If only Pulac-pa had not…” she stopped suddenly and apologized, “I’m sorry.”

Rini gave her a sad smile. “No need. I was thinking the same thing. We lost so much when he disappeared. We should never have allowed him to go on patrol, like an ordinary scout pilot.”

“How could you have stopped him?” Teri nearly laughed. “Pulac-pa, by his very name, is a zeslazt.”

“He was also one of our most trusted counsellors,” Rini replied, “and the commander of our scouts.” She paused a moment and added, “and our friend. Kenek still wants to mount a mission to capture him back. That botched abduction last year by the Maiyim Strike Force let us know where Pulac-pa is, but Wraen was correct and convinced us both that no one Tzal is indispensable. It would cost us too much to get him back that way, if we could and that is not certain by any means. That place, Olen, is reputed to be nearly as heavily defended as the capitals of Maiyim’s nations.”

“I don’t understand that,” Teri admitted. “According to our intelligence, he is living and working at a school. A school for magicians, if we can believe that.”

“I suspect our translations of the Maiyimite language are not perfect,” Rini replied. “What they call magic might be what we call science. Perhaps we are wrong to call it superstition and instead should think of it as philosophy. I do not know. Whatever the case, Olen is not a place we want to attack. The location has no military significance that we can detect. Perhaps it is just there to keep us from recapturing those who have surrendered.”

“That would be very clever of the Maiyimites,” Teri admitted. “So do you think it is a camp for prisoners of war?”

“I do not think so,” Rini shook her head. “While our intelligence indicates our people who have surrendered have all spent some time in Olen, most are now elsewhere, serving the nations of Maiyim in one capacity or another.”

“You cannot blame them for that,” Teri pointed out. “It is only natural for a captive Tzal to join the side of his or her captors.”

“But how do the Maiyimites know that?” Rini demanded. “Their own people, when captured, must be kept under guard lest they attempt to escape or, worse, return to fighting us. Yet they trust the Tzali who have joined them. It is most confusing. It is also why we must move ahead with our invasion plans now, before we lose too many more of us.”

Just then, Wraen entered the room. The leaders of Ferlakach could wear what was essentially civilian clothing, but as a military leader, Wraen was always in uniform. The uniform of a Ferlakach warrior was a short, golden-brown tunic with black trim with one’s rank markings on the shoulders over navy-blue trousers. Rini noted that Wraen always looked taller than she really was, possibly because she moved with the fluid grace of a professional fighter or possibly, because it was impossible not to keep looking down at her polished silver gun belt from which she hung a laser and a more conventional slug-chucker. That belt was not part of the uniform, but no one had ever seen fit to correct Wraen on that. She also stood out in that she kept her hair as short as any man might. Even though Teri, too, was a fighter and kept her hair short for a woman, it was still a few inches long. The hair on Wraen’s head was no longer than two or three week’s growth.

“Alpha Primes,” she announced in a low, not quite growling voice, “Everything is in place. By your command, we shall begin the final assault.”

Wraen looked first at Rini, who, after a quick glance at Kenek, nodded her assent grimly. Kenek still did not respond and continued to look out the port at the blue-white disk that was now above them.

Wraen cleared her throat and asked, “Prime Kenek?”

Kenek turned to face his military commander. They were a study in contrasts. Wraen seemed all sharp in her freshly pressed uniform and her finely developed muscles, while Kenek’s loose clothing made him seem soft. The alpha prime did actually work out regularly and was as fit as any adult Tzal could be, but the clothing hid most of that and the way he held himself in his current mood disguised the rest. Wraen’s hair was short, while Kenek’s was at least an inch and a half longer. It was still a manly way of wearing one’s hair but more in keeping with his one-time occupation as a professor.

He met the silver-gray eyes of Wraen with his own golden ones and then instructed her, “Go ahead.”

Part 1 – Seastar

One

A young woman in her late teens sat serenely in a semi-lotus position while floating in the air about three feet above a pile of soft cushions. There was loud and frenetically syncopated music playing over the public address system. A gold coin, spinning rapidly while orbiting her head, the young woman sat inside a bubble of pale red energy and kept her straight black hair tied back in a long ponytail, proudly wearing the uniform of the Olen Institute for Advanced Magical Studies, commonly known as the “Olen School.” The school uniform, such as it was, consisted of a blouse printed in a garish Bellinen floral pattern over a cream-colored skirt. Originally, only the women wore that unofficial uniform, but over the centuries, the men who attended adapted it to shirt and slacks. For formal ceremonies, such as commencements, graduates of the Olen School wore academic robes printed in the same bright flower pattern.

“Not bad, Apprentice!” another woman commended her. She was wearing the same uniform but, unlike the floating apprentice, she was not human. Her short stature, broad musculature and chalk-white skin proclaimed her to be a Granom, one of two other closely related sapient species native to Maiyim.

“Thank you, Slipstream,” the floater replied. “What should I try next?”

“Once around the campus to see if you can break my record,” a man called out as he entered the small gymnasium.

“Spin!” his wife, Islandtwist, admonished him. “You know Mom stopped the flying races outside the track area ever since you slammed into that old beech tree in Freddy’s arboretum.”

“I wasn’t hurt,” Spinnaker protested.

“No, but the tree was,” Twist shot back. “That poor thing was over one hundred years old and you broke nearly half its branches.”

“But at least I got my ward up in time,” Spin shrugged.

“When did you do that, Spin?” the apprentice asked.

“Never you mind, Marliese,” Twist told her. “You really aren’t up to true flying just yet and to tell the truth, most mages never do achieve that. Floating gently is usually enough for any of us. It really is too dangerous.”

“That depends,” Marliese considered. “If you float up high enough first… You know, to get above any possible obstacle, same as a plane does?”

“You had to put the thought in her head, didn’t you?” Twist rounded on Spin. “And what, young lady, would keep you from bumping into a plane or a bird for that matter. Planes have built in radar and flight controllers to keep them from running into other flying objects.”

“Or even tall buildings,” Slipstream added. “Besides, what if you lose concentration when you’re half a mile up?”

“I guess I’ll still have some time to catch myself,” Marliese replied. “Oh, don’t panic! I wasn’t going to actually try it. To tell the truth, I am surprised I’m still floating up here, but seriously, what should I try next? You all are supposed to be helping me get ready for finals, you know.”

“I wouldn’t worry about your labwork, dear,” Twist told her. “You may just be finishing your third year classes…”

“After only one year of study,” Spin cut in. “You did have a head start on your classmates.”

“I would rather I hadn’t,” Marliese admitted. “Being exposed to a Bond of Aritos is no way for anyone to begin training.”

“I cannot argue against that, dear,” Twist agreed, “but what I meant was you had quite of bit of private tutoring before Henowa Bai tried to get her claws into you.”

Marliese’s face darkened for a moment as it often did when she remembered the private hell that woman had put her through. Then she forced a smile and merely said, “Daddy always gave me the best.”

“Well, as I was saying,” Twist told her, “You have no worries about lab work. You may only be an apprentice, but you’re already outshining some of the journeymen you’re taking labs with.”

“So it’s my book learning I’m deficient on?” Marliese asked.

“Hardly,” Twist laughed, “although you do need to review in history and I noticed you only had a B grade in your chemistry midterm exam.”

“Chemistry is hard,” Marliese admitted.

“Next semester you have physics,” Twist reminded her. Marliese groaned. “Oh it’s not all that bad. You’ll love the labs. We do more than just calculate the vectors. We demonstrate them with magic.”

“That may be fun,” Marliese nodded.

“It will also help you fine tune your ability to use external power sources,” Spin told her. “You’re picking that up much better than I did, but you need a lot of practice with control.”

“That’s why apprentices are not allowed to do it without supervision,” Marliese quoted something Twist had told her repeatedly.

“There are more than a few journeymen who ought not to try it without supervision too,” Twist added acidly. “We’ll review both subjects later.”

“I always used to do well in history,” Marliese remarked.

“You learned it from a distinctly Ellistan point of view, dear,” Twist told her. “You learned more about the colonization of your island and subsequent treaties with Bellinen than anyone elsewhere would have thought relevant, but barely touched on the history of Emmine, Granom and the Isle of Fire and when you get right down to it, you only learned the good parts of Bellinen’s history.”

“I have to admit that it sometimes feels like everything I knew was wrong,” Marliese admitted.”

“Not everything,” Twist replied. “What you learned was important to an Ellistan. You are a citizen of the world now and you need to understand that every nation teaches history differently. They used to say that the winners wrote history. That’s not entirely true, as Spin here has told me repeatedly. History is written by the survivors, which is not the same thing. Sure a victor will describe a war as he saw it, but wars rarely exterminate entire populations. A generation or two later someone from the other side is going to write about it from his or her point of view and suddenly we have an entirely new insight. Don’t worry, you’ll get it in time, I’m sure. You and I will go over that tonight, but for now why don’t you float back down here and I’ll show you some of the basics of amulet spells.”

“Am I ready for that?” Marliese asked.

“If I did not think so, I wouldn’t have offered,” Twist replied, “and speaking of ready, have you thought about what you might use as a mage name? It’s not too early to choose one, you know.”

“I still have a year or two until graduation,” Marliese replied, “and it’s not official until then, is it?”

“No, it isn’t,” Twist agreed, “but most apprentices have chosen theirs by now.”

“It took me a long time to come up with a name,” Spin reminded her. “Names are important, Marliese. There’s no need to rush into changing yours. Take your time and when you find the right one, you’ll know it.”

“Thanks, Spin,” Marliese nodded and she settled herself back down into the cushions and turned her attention back to Twist. “Amulets? We discussed those in class a few weeks ago. Isn’t that supposed to be very advanced magic?”

“Some think so,” Islandtwist responded, “but I think that is mostly because it was the basis of Oceanvine the Younger’s master’s thesis. Anyone with a journeyman’s degree is allowed to cast such a spell without supervision because it really is not all that complex or dangerous especially when compared to the truly advanced techniques such as translocation and creation.”

“Speaking of translocation,” Marliese changed the subject, “could we make this lesson on that instead?”

“Marliese, dear, you are a very talented young mage,” Twist responded. She was trying to be gentle, but a hint of her mother’s steel and ice was in her voice, “but you are in no way ready to try spells like that.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean I wanted to actually translocate something myself,” Marliese denied, “but Master Looking-glass was discussing it in theory class the other day and even demonstrated the spell by moving a block of wood back and forth across the lecture hall. I’ve been thinking about what I saw and I think there may be a way to block someone using such a spell.”

“That could have been very useful a few times,” Spin pointed out.

“Alright,” Twist agreed, “Why don’t we discuss it as we walk. Someone else has this gym booked for the next hour and I was planning to use one of the picnic tables out on the quad. Ready?”

“Absolutely!” Marliese lifted herself lightly to her feet by telekinesis.

“Wish I could join you,” Slipstream told them, “but I have an adult class of first-years to teach this period.”

“Why don’t you join us for dinner on the boat?” Spin offered.

“Love to,” Slipstream smiled, “Can I bring anything?”

“On Maiyim Bourne?” Spin laughed. “You know she supplies everything we need.”

“Almost everything,” Slipstream corrected him. “I’ll bring some flowers, even if I have to steal some from the earl’s gardens.”

“Not sure his gardener would appreciate that,” Twist warned her as they reached the door of the gym. True to her prediction there were four people waiting to use the facility. Judging by how they were dressed, Twist guess they were planning a game of no-hands-ball. The game was one popular among the mages of Olen and similar to the racquet sport, Squash, save that the ball was allowed to touch no object other than the walls of the court. Players had to hit it back and forth using only telekinesis.

“Old Donald and I get along just fine,” Slipstream replied. “I introduced him to some plants from the Isle of Fire and we’ve been buddies ever since. If I request a bouquet the only hard part will be keeping it down to just a few flowers.”

“See you later, then,” Twist told her. “Now then, Marliese, what is this new insight you have?”

“It might not be new,” Marliese insisted. “It might not even work. Actually there are a number of ways translocation could be blocked, but most either require tech magic or some sort or the abilities of a master mage.”

“Go on,” Twist prompted her.

“Okay. Now you can obviously block the spell by placing whatever or whoever you wanted to protect inside a sufficiently powerful null-magic field, right?”

“The key words there,” Spin replied, “are ‘sufficiently powerful.’ Princess Ilyana in Gramon is a natural magic null and yet some rogue mages found a way to translocate her.”

“I read your article on that in Magic Today,” Marliese nodded. “They used a tech magic device that absorbed excess magical energy, right? It was so broad spectrum it absorbed energy from Ilyana’s natural null magic field as well.”

“I believe so, yes,” Spin nodded. “Its primary purpose was to absorb the usual translocational backlash that causes living creatures to black out and sometimes die while being translocated.”

“Yes,” Marliese nodded. “That was tech magic that actually facilitated translocation, but a strong null magic generator would have rendered it powerless while inside the null-magic field. In fact I think that’s why they were able to translocate Her Highness. Her field is not very large, is it? It does not extend very far from her body.”

“She usually has no trouble turning on the lights using a tech magic switch,” Spin conceded.

“So the energy absorber, or whatever you want to call it was not inside the null magic field when it was used so it absorbed the energy from her field and it probably absorbs magical energy evenly from everything around it.”

“I do not believe I mentioned that in my paper,” Spin admitted, “and you may recall that paper did not mention who the magic-null subject was, but you are correct so far. Are you saying you know how to cast a null magic spell?”

“Never tried it,” Marliese admitted, “but if I understood how null magic really worked, I probably could, though it seems to me I might just turn myself permanently magic-null in doing so. That’s just one way to block translocation though.” They reached one of the picnic tables and sat down while Marliese went on. The young woman hadn’t noticed but as she was speaking other nearby students and teachers over-heard her and came closer to listen.

“Another way to block translocation, obviously,” Marliese continued seriously, “is to cast a translocation spell of your own that does nothing but keep the object in place. In this case you have what is really just a tug-of-war between two or more mages and, eventually, one side or the other will win, or maybe kill each other in the energy backlash since I think it would really build up proportionately.”

“It would if one or the other didn’t let go and try something else,” Twist agreed. “In practice, I believe most mages, finding their spell blocked like that would turn to fight the mage blocking them.”

“Or else just translocate themselves away and return to try again later,” Spin added.

“Either way that would block a translocation, wouldn’t it?” Marliese countered. She did not wait for an answer. “And that is probably related to my idea, but in a round-about manner. So, back in class, while Master Looking-glass was sending the block back and forth, I got a good look at how the magical energy was being used in his spell. That was one of the first things you taught me, Twist. Don’t just watch the effect, but look at how the magic does it, right?

“So what I saw was the energy sort of wraps around the object being translocated,” Marliese continued, “and then it forms a spell string to where the object is being sent. A similar-sized volume becomes a bubble of energy and poof! It changes location. I was thinking that all you need to do is cut the spell string, but that seemed too easy.”

“I was demonstrating the spell slowly,” Master Looking-glass told her from nearby. He was a tall, dark-skinned Orent with very long, black hair and a beard. Like nearly everyone else here, he wore a variety of the school uniform. “You are not the first one to notice the string, but in practice the string forms at the speed of thought and can reform just as easily. Even if you had the time to cut the string, it would reform before you could do so again.”

“But what if the object were entirely encased in a ward?” one of the nearby students wondered.

“Uh uh!” Marliese grinned. “I know that one. The ward’s energy becomes part of the spell and actually facilitates it. At least a normal ward would react that way. I think you need to do a tug-of-war thing with the caster of the translocation spell, but rather than the two of you pulling back and forth on the object being translocated, I think you need to do so with the energy. I’m just not sure how to do that.”

“Hmm,” Spin considered. “It would be a matter of taking control of the spell rather than actually disrupting it. It sounds plausible and if you were in control you would specify where the translocation took place or keep it from happening at all.” He looked around and added to their audience, “Folks, I believe we can all consider this Master-level magic, so no experimenting around on your own.”

“Considering the possible energy build up, which young Marliese here mentioned,” Looking-glass put in, “I would suggest that no one try it without discussing it with a wizard or two first. Even then, it might be too dangerous to try.”

“Although,” Twist considered, “as a surprise move it could be very effective, but yes, no one here goes out and tries it for themselves. Understood?” The others nodded, albeit reluctantly and began to wander off again. Most, Twist could see, were discussing the possibilities. “Well, Marliese, you seem to have shaken up the community for the morning. Are you ready to learn about amulets?”

Two

Dinner on board Maiyim Bourne had become a regular event for Marliese Fonterre since her arrival in Olen. While she lived in the student dormitory and ate breakfast, lunch and some dinners with her fellow students, she spent at least every other evening on board the yacht even when Spin and Twist were elsewhere. Maiyim Bourne was not just any boat and not just the most famous boat in the history of Maiyim. She was alive. A chance reaction of spells had granted the vessel a self-aware personality and intelligence. Maiyim Bourne or, as she sometimes called herself, Maiyim Jenynges, was a person in every sense of the word. Her physical body might be wood, metal and fiberglass, but she could also project an image of herself as a young woman. That image could be anyone, but by her own choice she used that of Oceanvine the Younger, the mage whose spell had led to Maiyim’s creation.

Marliese had forged a close friendship with Maiyim during Twist’s and Spin’s visit to Ellisto over a year earlier. Marliese, being the sheltered daughter of one of that nation’s rulers, had never enjoyed the close companionship of many friends and so her relationship with Maiyim was one very special and dear to her. She visited Maiyim at every opportunity.

Tonight, however, the little dinner table in Maiyim Bourne’s galley was not large enough to seat everyone on board. When Marliese arrived, Slipstream and Pulac-pa were sitting up on deck, playing a childish hand-slapping game the Tzal had remembered from his childhood.

Pulac-pa was a Tzali loner. He had been in command of the Ferslakach scout fleet, but when Twist and Spin shot him down while on a mission, he had no choice but to surrender to them. It was an action he had never regretted. The people of Maiyim, he discovered, were intelligent, curious and, in general, amazingly hospitable to a member of a species who had attacked them without provocation or warning. Pulac-pa had always enjoyed experiencing the unusual and the mixture of races on Maiyim suited his tastes perfectly. He had adapted to Maiyim with barely a hesitation and now frequently wore jeans and an Orentan flowered shirt that was sometimes half of the Olen uniform and sometimes bore no resemblance to the uniform shirt in color or pattern. His most unusual feature, for a Tzal, was his hair which was brown with tan stripes. It was a rare trait among the Tzali although not entirely unique to him. Even more rare were Tzali with spotted hair and there were a few of them in Ferslakach Fleet too.

“Good evening, Marliese,” Pulac-pa hailed her as she strolled down the dock. “I hear Twist is pressing you for a mage name again.”

“It’s what one of my anthropology teachers would have called a ‘rite of passage,’” Marliese chuckled.

“Well, it’s not required,” Pulac-pa gave her a very human-looking smile. He had adapted to local customs in more than just clothing. “I still don’t have one.”

“Sure you do,” Slipstream laughed. “You’re Leadfoot. That’s how some mage names are chosen, you know. They are just translations of one’s birth name.”

“There is that,” Marliese agreed, “and sometimes they are nicknames, like Islandtwist, but more often they are chosen to honor an ancestor, usually one who was also a mage – I’m the first mage in my family – or something that interests the mage or else something that is powerful or beautiful. I really don’t have any clear choice and nothing I’ve come up with so far is a name I care to live with for the rest of my life.”

“You can’t change it later?” Pulac-pa asked.

“You can, but it is like changing your name after a divorce,” Marliese replied. “You only do that for a very important personal reason. Normally a mage name is for life.”

“Well,” Slipstream told her, “as you said yourself, you have plenty of time to consider it. Just because Twist found her name before she started formal classes it doesn’t mean the rest of us have to.”

“I’ll have you know,” Islandtwist told them as she climbed up on deck, carrying three pizzas that had come out of Maiyim Bourne’s magical food box, complete with cardboard boxes, “that I did not choose my mage name. it was chosen for me by my cousin Freddy.

“After you mispronounced the name of your favorite soft drink, Islandmist,” Spin added as he appeared behind her with a pitcher of iced tea and a stack of plastic glasses.

“Hmm, yes,” Twist nodded. “That may be why I can’t stand the stuff these days.”

“It’s not one of my favorites either,” Marliese told her. “Too sweet. If I’m going to drink a sweet seltzer, I prefer the ones more geared to adult tastes. Hey! Where’s Maiyim?”

“Where would I go?” Maiyim laughed, her holographic projection suddenly appearing on deck beside Marliese. “I just did not want to intrude on your conversation, but you all must be hungry. Eat. Twist? Are we expecting more company tonight? Someone is walking down the dock.”

Maiyim was unable to see beyond the confines of her boat’s body unless her radar unit was turned on, which it rarely was while at dock, but she could hear the sounds of nearby footsteps and feel the vibrations through the fenders that rested between her and the dock. Twist looked down the dock and saw three men approaching.

“I had better grab a few more pizzas and our guests may prefer beer,” she decided. A little louder she hailed the men, “Your Majesty! My Lords! Welcome!” The other mages got to their feet and bowed to King Othon II of Emmine. With His Majesty were Frederick Jennyges, Earl Olen and Lord Tamolen, known as Michael to his family.

“Thank, you, but please make yourselves comfortable,” Othon told them. “We need to talk quietly and privately. Perhaps we should go below?”

“No need, Your Majesty,” Maiyim assured him. “I can and will block any form of listening device anyone might have trained on us. And if Spin would cast a stealth ward, no one will see us either.”

“Done,” Spin announced a moment later. “Would you all like some pizza? Twist was just about to get some more.”

“And beer, perhaps?” Slipstream added, remembering what Twist had said a minute earlier.

“I prefer the darker brews, if you have any,” Othon replied.

“We have everything,” Spin smiled and looked toward Freddy and Lord Tamolen.

“We’ll try whatever is fit for a king,” Freddy chuckled.

“Getting a bit presumptuous, old boy?” Tamolen laughed.

“Not at all,” Freddy denied, “Drinking the same beer as my royal cousin is as close to the crown as I ever want to get.”

“I’ll be right back,” Twist promised.

“I’ll help you,” Slipstream offered and both women disappeared below only to return again a moment later. “Oops! I brought up a six-pack of bottles. I’ll go get some glasses.”

“Don’t bother, Miss Slipstream,” Othon stopped her. “I know how to drink out of the bottle. Freddy here taught me.”

“Somebody had to,” Freddy smirked, “If we were going to sneak out of the palace for a night on the town, we sure didn’t want royal manners to get in the way.”

“I do have to admit that it was probably safer to drink out of the bottle than the glasses some of those places had,” Othon recalled. He reached for a piece of the pizza, took a bite and then downed it with a swig of beer. He looked like he was about to go on, but changed his mind and finished not only that piece but two more pieces and was well into his second bottle of beer before he spoke again.

“Sir Spinnaker, Lady Islandtwist,” the king began and then restarted, “Spin, Twist, I need your help.”

“Whatever we can do,” Spin replied.

Othon smiled and shrugged that response off. “This is as much for me as it is your other royal cousin.”

“How many kings are you guys related to?” Slipstream interrupted. “Oh, sorry, Your Majesty. Please forgive me.”

“It is not well known, but there is a relationship between Twist’s and my family and the House of Granova going back over three hundred years,” Freddy explained. “Oceanvine the Elder and a royal princess of Granom mutually adopted each other as sisters. By Emmine reckoning, such a relationship would be unofficial beyond the first generation, but our Granomish cousins do not engage in the same sort of genealogical mathematics we do. To them a kinsman is anyone with whom you can demonstrate a kinship tie and since the adoption was certified by a Granomish court, that makes it all nice and official, at least in Granom.”

“I learned that a few years ago,” Twist pointed out. “Why are you bringing it up now?”

“His Majesty, King Ksaveras XVIII is dying,” Othon explained. “Oh I know. He’s been dying for a long time. Every winter he has a bad cold or worse and the whole kingdom holds its collective breath and so far he has managed to recover, but this time Her Royal Highness assures me he is truly on his deathbed.”

“And Ilyana is still not married,” Spin observed. “That is a big problem especially since it will leave the crown of Granom open to a dozen cousins or more.”

“Normally, I might say that the Crown of Granom is the business of the Granomen,” Tamolen commented. “I know we would resent outside interference if it happened the Emmine succession were under some small debate.”

“This is hardly a small matter, my lord,” Othon replied reprovingly, “and the crown of Granom must not be under debate, as you put it, at this time. Furthermore we do not believe we are interfering in the succession, but lending a hand in seeing to it that our royal cousin is succeeded by the heir he desires.”

“You’ll have to speak a little more plainly, I’m afraid, Your Majesty,” Spin cut in. “I’m just a middle class kid from Keesport and grew up in the import-export business. I understand international trade agreements, but political matters are beyond my meager understanding.”

Othon, Freddy and Tamolen stared, wide-eyed at Spinnaker for a moment, while Twist and Pulac-pa had trouble keeping their expressions blank. Twist noticed that Marliese was about to try to explain. As the daughter of one of the seven Lords of Ellisto, she had certainly grown up understanding what politics could be like, but Twist managed to catch her eye and shake her head microscopically. Marliese raised an eyebrow for just a moment and then caught on and smiled.

Finally, Othon started laughing. “You had me there, Spin, but your point is well taken. We were not talking straight to the heart of the matter and, in all honesty, we do not have the time to discuss this like a Parliamentary debate. I think you have the gist of the problem. Ksaveras is dying and Ilyana is still not married so her fiancé cannot legally inherit the throne.”

“And he must inherit,” Freddy added. “By Granomish law and custom a woman cannot reign.”

“Part of that is debatable,” Tamolen argued. “I have carefully studied the governing documents of the Kingdom of Granom and nowhere does it forbid a woman from wearing the crown.”

“Try telling that to the Granomen,” Spin laughed.

“Wait a minute, if a woman can reign,” Twist asked, “Why did both Ksaveras and Ilyana tell me she cannot?”

“It’s a common misunderstanding,” Tamolen replied. “Back in the ancient world there were religious restrictions against women performing a number of what we might now call traditional masculine roles. Six centuries ago, Ksaveras I upheld those religious laws, but when the modern Constitution of Granom was enacted following the Counter Revolution there were no restrictions regarding gender in it at any level.”

“Perhaps,” Freddy allowed, “but the monarch must still be ratified by their Parliament and most of the Lords, and the Commons too I’ll wager, still believe it is unlawful for a woman to serve as queen regent. You heard what Twisty said. Even Ksaveras and Ilyana believe it.”

“You could tell them,” Marliese suggested. “I’m sure Maiyim could get them on the line right now.”

“Better yet,” Freddy told her, “We’ll let Twist and Spin tell them face-to-face.”

“What?” Twist asked flatly.

“Twisty,” Freddy laughed, “Surely you didn’t think we came here just to gossip about the Granomen, did you?”

“Princess Ilyana has decided to ignore custom and get married in spite of the impropriety of doing so while her father is ill unto death,” Othon explained.

“Unto death?” Freddy echoed, chuckling. “Have you been watching bad historical TriVees again?” Othon glared at him so Freddy added an insincere, “Your Majesty?” Freddy and Othon had grown up together and, in private, had never adhered to the proper behavior normally acted between a lord and his sovereign. More recently Twist and Spin had been granted the same license by Othon, but as Othon and his companions were visiting on serious business, the king had considered this an official occasion.

It was Othon who finally backed down, “Yes, all right. I work much better with a speech writer. The urgency, however, remains. The problem, Islandtwist, is that a member of the Granomish royalty must have a quorum of eleven relatives present at his or her wedding or it will not be valid.”

“First time I ever heard that,” Twist remarked.

“It’s a recent discovery,” Slipstream told her, “or a rediscovery, I guess. It’s been on the news off and on all year.”

“You really ought to keep up on current events, Twisty,” Freddy teased her.

“A bad habit of mine,” Twist admitted. “At first, I was tired of seeing myself on the screen and then after that it’s been mostly news of the war. I generally know more than the pretty faces who report it. So what’s this about Granomish marriage customs?”

“Not just a custom,” Tamolen assured her. “It is in their vast collection of laws, I fear. It has never been an issue before since a royal marriage is generally something that requires a long period of planning and finding the room for guests from all over the world. Actually having to count the number of cousins in attendance has never been an issue until now.”

“There have been two incidents in the last six months,” Freddy added, “that we have attributed to the Sons and Daughters of Maiyim. One was that terror attack aimed at the Granomish Parliament in session.”

“I do wish we could call them something other than that,” Slipstream commented. “The Sons and Daughters of Maiyim sounds like such a patriotic organization.”

“Very few people believe themselves to be evil,” Twist told her.

“The name was given to them a long time ago by conspiracy theorists,” Spin explained. “That’s not their real name, or it wasn’t then. We don’t know what they called themselves even ten years ago, but recent intelligence seems to indicate they use that name now, or at least their lower echelon members do.”

“I don’t care what they call themselves,” Othon told them, “but when their agenda includes the assassination of Alexei Trellov…”

“Ilyana’s fiancé?” Marliese gasped. “When did that happen and why didn’t we hear about that?”

“It was kept very hushed up,” Tamolen explained. “It occurred six months ago when he was visiting the Querna Stock Exchange. Do you recall the day the Exchange closed early?”

“My father’s people handle my portfolio,” Marliese replied, “I don’t even know if I own anything traded on that exchange.”

“It’s not a bad idea to take a more active interest in your personal finances,” Tamolen told her seriously. “However, the Exchange closed because of the attack, but it was explained publically as a power outage.”

“As if any such exchange didn’t have power backup in triplicate,” Freddy added. “The thing is, while nearly all the Granomish nobles are related, however distantly, they are also being watched. Some of them are known members or at least sympathizers of the Sons and Daughters and some just see the death of Ksaveras without an established male heir as their once-in-a-millennium chance to seize the throne. Any attempt to gather a sufficient number of House Granova relatives has been thwarted in the last year. Sometimes there have been amazingly coincidental Tzali raids…”

“We know the Sons and Daughters have been in contact with the fleet,” Pulac-pa told them. “It is not such a stretch to imagine that one such communique was a suggestion to attack at a certain time and place.”

“True,” Freddy nodded. “There have been two successful assassinations of minor Granomish nobles who were making public speeches thought to be preambles to a campaign to become king. Let’s remember that their Parliament ratifies an heir and in the absence of an undisputed heir, chooses the new king. Several others received threats on their lives and have therefore placed themselves out of the line of succession. But what everyone is watching, not just the Sons and Daughters, is how many royal cousins are in any one place at a time.

“Whenever there has been an attempt to gather a sufficient number together at one time, there has been disruptive activity of one sort or another,” Freddy went on. “You probably did not hear about the gun fight outside the Wurra Palace last week did you?”

“I didn’t,” Spin admitted. “Did that really happen?”

“It did,” Othon replied grimly. “Somehow, they kept it out of the news, but Lyudmila Garensk, the current Commandant of Oceanvine’s Girls, informed us about it. It seems that anytime more than eight or nine royal cousins appear to be trying to gather in one place there is an incident that sends them scurrying for cover.”

“Mila would know,” Twist nodded. “We’ve worked with her before, you know.”

“We do,” Othon replied, “In fact, it was she who asked for you. Ilyana, as we said, has decided to get married in secret before her grandfather dies, if she can, and thus secure the crown for Alexei, her husband to be. The plan is for him to adopt the royal name of Ksaveras XIX so as to maintain the fiction of a clear line of descent. That is all well and good, but not if they cannot assemble eleven qualified relatives before the old king dies.”

“Which is where you two come in,” Tamolen told Spin and Twist. “While no one has actually tried to make it a secret, it is not generally known that you or any humans for that matter, are related to the Granomish Crown. To tell the truth, no one outside the royal family knew until your trip to Granom a few years ago. So we believe you two could easily slip into Querna and the Wurra Palace without exciting the Sons and Daughters.”

“Much,” Spin laughed sourly. “It does not normally bother me, but I don’t think the Sons and Daughters like either of us or approve of us in any way. If we go strolling into Querna, we are likely to cause all sorts of excitement, just because it is us.”

“I do not believe that is the case,” Tamolen disagreed. “Oh you might be recognized and a few pictures might be taken of you as you step off the plane, but I doubt anyone will try to stop you from entering the Wurra Palace. We are sending you off without fanfare or any sort. You’ll just be people on a commercial liner, however,” he checked the timepiece implanted on the back of his wrist, “we are running out of time. Your flight leaves from Randona in just under three hours.”

“Whoa! Slow down,” Twist told him. “Let’s take a step back now. What do you expect us to do?”

“Isn’t that obvious, Twisty?” Freddy asked. “You’re to witness Ilyana’s and Alexei’s wedding. You know, I ought to go with you. I’m related to the Granomish Crown in the same way you are.”

“I think not, Olen,” Othon shook his head. “It is true that would add one more necessary relative and one would hate to be just a single cousin shy of the necessary quorum, but you could not travel without a staff or your diplomatic credentials and we want this to be an unofficial delegation. Spin, Twist, if anyone should ask, that is what you are, an unofficial delegation from your king to show his support for the Princess Ilyana in this time of sorrow. Freddy, if you were on this mission it would seem far too official, which would be in exceedingly poor taste considering that His Majesty is still alive. We do plan to send you to his funeral, but cannot allow you to arrive there for that purpose while he is still breathing.”

“I understand,” Freddy nodded. “I am not sure I agree, but I do understand. We cannot send an official celebratory delegation to a secret wedding especially if a funeral is due to follow in a few days.”

“Exactly,” Tamolen agreed, “and I do believe it would be noted that a peer of this realm was traveling to Granom at this time. We’re watched more closely than Spin and Twist are these days.”

“That’s what you think!” Freddy crowed. “It is all I can do to keep photographers off the estate. They are constantly trying to snap their grubby little pictures of the world-famous mages, Spinnaker and Islandtwist.”

“It’s not as bad as all that,” Spin laughed, “and I suppose if you would loan us the county jet, we could be in Querna before they knew we had left the ground.”

“You are mistaken there, Sir Spinnaker,” Othon told him. “If Freddy’s personal plane were to leave Emmine air space it would, indeed, attract the sort of attention we do not want. Similarly, I cannot fly you to Querna on the royal jet, but I can drop you off directly on the tarmac of Querna International Airport where you will be able to board the plane without going through the public gate.”

“We could sail there,” Spin noted. All we have to do is hustle you lot off the boat and slip our hawsers and we can sail off into the night before anyone else even knows.”

“That would be too slow,” Tamolen shook his head. “We really do not know how much longer His Majesty will live.

“Two representatives are still not enough, though,” Freddy persisted.

“Send Pulac-pa,” Maiyim suggested. They all turned to look at her. “Well, he is one of us now and known to travel with Spin and Twist.”

“We could also take Slipstream, I suppose,” Twist considered.

“Good idea,” Tamolen agreed. “You are from the Isle of Fire, aren’t you, Slipstream? “ She nodded. “If forced to use the unofficial delegation story, she could be an unofficial delegate from the Isle of Fire.”

“Very unofficial,” Slipstream laughed. “The last person in my family to have anything to do with the running of the country was Madame Blizzard.”

“It does not matter,” Tamolen told her. “This will keep from alienating our allies on the Isle of Fire by not letting them in on our plans. We can say it had to be hush-hush, but we still included one of theirs in the party.”

“Then we should also take Marliese with us,” Spin told him. “Her father is Lord Fonterre and that will include Ellisto in the same way Slipstream will represent the Isle of Fire. It’s just a shame we do not have any students in residence from Sutheria or Methiscia at the moment.”

“We shall instruct our ambassador to Granom to produce official letters to his colleagues at those other embassies, recognizing your status on the sly. Then they can all claim to have been in on this from the start,” Othon decided.

“And if not forced to fall back on the unofficial delegation story, you are all just friends, travelling together,” Freddy concluded, “but you had better get packing. We only have about fifteen minutes left if we are going to catch that flight.”

Just over an hour and a half later, they were in the air and headed north on Air Emmine Flight 302 to Levon International Airport in Quirna.

Three

The flight did not last anywhere near long enough. Spin had just barely fallen asleep when the pilot suddenly changed direction in a sharp maneuver of the sort normally only employed on military flights.

“Sorry about the rollercoaster ride, folks,” the pilot apologized over the loudspeaker, “but I have just received orders to find a safe landing. We shall be touching down in Castelon in fifteen minutes.”

“Castelon?” Marliese wondered. “But that’s in Wennil. Why are we landing there of all places?”

They did not have long to wait to find out. Once on the ground, the airlines personnel led them to a large meeting room and explained. “There has been a new outbreak of Tzali air attacks,” the spokesman explained. “Most notably, there was a major strike on a military base on Othisl in Bellinen and, as I speak, the Granomish Air Force is in combat over Barmeport. Radar reports there are other Tzali ships approaching from their battle asteroid and all commercial flights have been grounded for the duration. We do not know how long this will last but Air Emmine will happily pay for all hotel rooms and meals until either the flight ban is lifted or we can find other transportation.”

There followed a long question and answer session with the usual variety of reactions, but in the end there was nothing else to be learned and about halfway through, Spin, Twist and their friends slipped out of the room where members of their erstwhile flight crew were assigning people to their hotel rooms in pairs. It was easy enough to keep Spin and Twist together and they had no trouble having Slipstream and Marliese bunk together, but Pulac-pa presented them with a problem.

“I don’t have any trouble with you, sir,” the flight attendant told him nervously, but I am not sure how some of our other patrons would feel about sleeping in the same room as an enemy. I mean,” she added in haste, “one who used to be an enemy, but is no longer, but still looks…” she trailed off hopelessly.

“I will not be insulted to have a private room, miss,” Pulac-pa told her with a human-sounding chuckle. Tzali laughter sounded more like barking.

“Yes, sir,” the attendant nodded gratefully.

“Where and when do we eat?” Spin asked.

“In the hotel, sir,” she responded, “anytime you like, or at least any time the restaurant is open. Here are some chits for your party to present for the next few days.” She handed him a stack of what were hastily printed pieces of paper. “If we are here longer, I will see you get more. If you prefer to eat out, though, that will be at your own expense, sir.”

“Naturally,” Spin shrugged. “Well, let’s go,” he told the others. “We can at least settle in before the main crowd gets done in there. They’re mostly just complaining now anyway.”

The hotel rooms were small, but somehow had enough room for two beds, a pair of chairs beside a small coffee table, a narrow desk, some drawers for string clothes, a miniscule closet and a bathroom. “This might not look like much,” Slipstream told Marliese, who had been expecting a suite of rooms, “but I’ll bet it is costing the airline a fortune to house all of us. I’m surprised they did not decide to shoe-horn us in two per bed. I do have to warn you, though.”

“What?” Marliese asked nervously.

“I snore,” Slipstream confessed.

“Oh that!” Marliese laughed. “I know. I can hear you down the hall in the dormitory, but I learned how to cast a ward that cancels that sort of noise my first week in Olen. I think everyone in the dorm knows that spell.”

“I don’t,” Slipstream admitted. “You’ll have to show me. I think Feldspar snores even louder than I do. Some nights she keeps me up.”

“I think it’s roughly a tie,” Marliese informed her. “She complains about you, too. But you two aren’t the only snorers in the dorm. At least half of us do sometimes, whether we admit it or not.”

“Maybe the rooms should have been made sound-proof,” Slipstream considered.

“Then I might never have learned that spell,” Marliese pointed out, “and the ability to cancel out noise is such a useful spell; not just for sleeping.” She plopped her suitcase down on a small folding platform at the foot of her bed. “Well, I’m unpacked enough. Let’s get something to eat.”

They found the others already in the bar section of the hotel’s restaurant, watching the vid screen for news although all that was showing at the moment were a long string of advertisements. “Any hope for getting out of here tomorrow?” Slipstream asked.

“I doubt it,” Pulac-pa replied. “It looks to me like this is the start of a large wave of assaults, both from space and the deep south.”

“The final big one?” Marliese asked.

“Maybe,” Pulac-pa shrugged. “But I think some of this is cover for transport ships arriving at Robander’s Island. I could be wrong, though. This is just what is being released for public consumption. I know if I were directing the invasion, I would want the asteroid base just a bit closer, but this matches what we have heard about the possibility of an accelerated schedule.”

“Whether this is just another wave of attacks or the beginning of a truly big push,” Spin told them, “it looks to me like we are going to be grounded here for at least a week. You may recall the last time commercial flights were grounded world-wide like this, it was almost a month before they were allowed to fly again.”

“Could we call back to Freddy or the king and request a military plane to pick us up after all?” Slipstream suggested.

“An Emmine military flight landing in Wennil?” Twist countered. “That is definitely not going to happen for anything short of a true emergency, and by emergency, I mean something involving a life or death decision for the pilot. If the question is landing here or crashing into the sea, the Wennilians might allow it, otherwise the plane would be told to just keep moving.”

“We cannot just sit here, can we?” Marliese asked. “We have to get to Querna.”

“I’ve been asking around,” Spin told her. “Maritime traffic is still moving as normal.”

“The Tzal Homeworld,” Pulac-pa explained, “Is a dry planet compared to Maiyim. There are many lakes and a few moderately-sized seas, but no oceans. We have never relied on ships to move anything. Consequently, the Tzali leaders continue to underestimate the importance of Maiyim’s navies and commercial fleets. By now I would have thought they might have noticed missiles being shot from submarines and battleships, not to mention fighters launching from aircraft carriers, but from the analyses I have been allowed to see back in Olen, the Tzali only attack ships when fired on first. Naturally that means a ship gets the first shot in and frequently that is all it needs. A scout or fighter that does not return, also does not get to report in.”

“Don’t scouts and fighters fly in squadrons or whatever you call their formations?” Marliese asked.

“Usually,” Pulac-pa admitted, “but so do Maiyim’s air and space forces. From what I have been able to tell most of those have launched from land bases, especially since I started advising the army and navy of Emmine. My guess is that they are doing what they can to make their oceanic forces seem trivial to the Tzali, and if that is the case I suspect you will see a lot more action on the seas before long.”

“In the meantime, however,” Twist added, “commercial ships are still sailing as though nothing unusual was happening.”

“Well,” Spin hedged, “passenger ships are far less active. There aren’t many who want to go on a vacation at sea during a war, although from what I hear winter cruises to Bellinen from both Granom and Emmine are still being booked. And Wennil continues to be a popular destination as well.

“Come to think of it,” Spin went on, “in spite of what Freddy and Othon said about flying being faster, we should have sailed too. Had we taken Maiyim Bourne across the great Bay to Kanaduin and then sailed the Nildar Ocean straight to Querna, I doubt anyone would have noticed our movements, the Tzali would not have bothered to fire on a small pleasure craft and knowing what we know now, I can safely say we would have reached Quirna sooner.”

“A Granomish cruise ship would be a very comfortable way to travel,” Slipstream commented. “Their reputation for luxury is top rate.”

“There hasn’t been a Granomish passenger ship here since the first Tzali attack,” Spin told her. “That much the bartender was able to tell me. If we sail at all it will have to be on a freighter.”

“Those do not quite have the same reputation,” Slipstream wrinkled her nose at the thought.

“They are not as bad as all that,” Twist laughed. “Merchant mariners tend to be a very polite lot. They have to be. A jerk can find himself swimming in the middle of a storm if he angers the rest of the crew.”

“They throw him overboard?” Marliese asked nervously.

“In an extreme case, maybe,” Spin shrugged, “but most of the time it’s just that in an emergency one tends to rescue a friend in trouble first. If you don’t make friends, you’ll be the last one rescued if you get swept overboard or if the cargo shifts in the hold while you are underway. Although, if the crew stows that cargo correctly in the first place that shouldn’t happen, but restraints can break and mistakes can be made. In any case, the bloke no one likes has the lowest life-expectancy.

“If we are able to book rooms on a freighter,” Spin went on, “We can probably expect them to be small and sparsely furnished, but clean. The meals will be good, but not gourmet, probably on a par with or maybe a bit better than what we find in the cafeteria.”

“I can live with that,” Marliese decided. “I always did prefer a simple cheese sandwich and a bowl of chowder to some of the so-called delights my Dad had served to guests. Oh, finally! The news is back on.”

They watched the screen for a while learning that, following the initial attacks on Barmeport and Othisl, the Tzali had also attacked Silamon in Sutheria, Tamd on Chastigon, Merinne on Orent and Sont on Horalia. There had also been abortive attacks on Quirna and Randona, but the military had turned those raids aside before they could get close enough to cause damage. According to the newscaster, however, there were more Tzali ships approaching from space.

“Definitely, we need to find a ship,” Spin decided.

The next morning, however, he learned that there was only one Granomish ship in Castelonport at the moment and that she had just arrived. “The Marquesse of Nanir is going to be here for a week yet,” he reported to the others, “although they do have three passenger rooms available and are more than happy to have us on board.”

“But a whole week?” Slipstream protested. “The planes may be flying again by the time we get to Quirna.”

“Or they may not,” Spin replied. “We have to keep moving. If the flight ban is lifted we can always cancel our reservations, you know.”

“What about translocation?” Pulac-pa asked. “I’ve seen you guys pop in and out when you had to.”

“Translocate to the other side of the world?” Twist nearly laughed. “Neither Spin nor I have ever tried a jump of that magnitude, even using the golden staff. A god could translocate us anywhere they chose, but, I am just not certain enough of the exact distance of location of the place we would be trying to get to. It would be too dangerous.”

“You keep saying you have actually met your gods,” Pulac-pa pointed out. “Couldn’t you ask for their help in this?”

“I believe that would be contrary to their agreement with the Tzali gods not to interfere,” Twist replied seriously.

“Besides,” Slipstream asked. “How are we supposed to contact one of them. Oh, I can pray to Methis, if you like, but I think I would need her comm number to get this sort of request across.” She laughed at herself just then, adding, “Can you just imagine looking up Methis’ number in the Comm directory? Ha! If She had one, she’d probably never get any sleep from all the callers.”

“No doubt She has an unlisted number,” Twist replied, guiltily remembering she did actually have Methis’ number on speed-dial. For a moment she was tempted to sneak off and ask for Methis’ help in the matter, but she realizedis we she was correct when she told the others it would violate the non-intervention agreement. She did have some questions for Methis but they could, and would have to, wait.

“Well, if we’re going to be sailing to Granom,” Slipstream decided, “I am going to need some more light clothing. Most of what I packed were woolens and other warm clothes for early spring.”

“We can go shopping,” Marliese suggested. “I’ve heard the prices here in Castelon are fantastic because there are no taxes. “Twist, you want to come with us?”

“We have a few days yet,” Twist told her. “I’ll let you two scout the local merchants for me.”

Four

“Have you seen Slipstream and Marliese?” Twist asked Spin and Pulac-pa the next afternoon. They were sitting in the hotel lobby. Twist had been reading a book while Spin and Pulac-pa continued to watch the news. The lobby, they had discovered, was a more comfortable place to stretch out and relax than their rooms.

“They went out shopping again a few hours ago,” Pulac-pa responded as a pair of tall men came through the hotel’s front doors. They were dressed in business suits, which made them stand out compared to the more casually dressed people of Wennil, but Pulac-pa paid them no mind as they stepped to the front desk. No doubt they were just more forreigners trapped here until commercial flights resumed. “Come to think about it, they ought to have been back for lunch.”

“They probably found a nice café and decided to dine there,” Spin told him. “Let’s face it. The hotel food is good, but it’s nothing to write home about. Or not…” he trailed off when the desk clerk pointed them out to the two men in suits. “Looking for us?” he asked them as they approached.

“You are Wizard Spinnaker, sir?” one of them asked.

“Master Spinnaker,” Spin replied, correcting the man on his actual title. “This is my wife Master Islandtwist and our friend Pulac-pa.”

“Ma’am. Sir,” the two men chorused in the same businesslike tone. Spin immediately had them pegged for cops and was proven correct when they introduced themselves as Detectives Marke Slaone and Welliam Garancy of what passed for the police force of Castelon. They wasted no other time and got down to business. “You are traveling with two young ladies?”

“Journeywoman Slipstream from the Isle of Fire and Miss Marliese Fonterre from Ellisto,” Spin nodded. “Yes.”

“I am afraid there has been an incident, sir,” Detective Garancy informed them.

“What’s happened,” Twist demanded.

“Roughly half an hour ago,” Garancy replied, “the two women in question were walking along Hafton Street when a large blue industrial hopper flew up to and landed beside them. Four men rushed out of the hopper and quickly overcame the women, dragging them back into the vehicle which then flew off to the southeast.”

“Oh gods!” Twist fretted. “I always thought this sort of thing didn’t happen in Wennil.”

“It almost did not this time either, ma’am,” Slaone told her. “Several witnesses drew their weapons and started firing on the kidnappers. We are reasonably certain at least two of them were injured. One is almost definitely dead if reports are correct and he was hit in the head.”

“Nothing more than what he deserved,” Garancy added dispassionately. “We wish to issue a bulletin on the two ladies but could use photographic images of them.”

“I’ll call Maiyim,” Spin told Twist. “She can send the pictures immediately.”

“Maiyim, sir?” Garancy inquired.

“A friend of ours,” Spin explains, adding, “In Olen.”

“Ah,” the detective nodded. “That would be Maiyim Jenynges?”

“You know her?” Spin was surprised.

“She assisted us a few years ago, during the unpleasantness at the Castelon Fair.”

“That’s true,” Spin agreed. “I don’t recall you though.”

“I was still a junior member of the force,” Garancy admitted. “I was working mostly behind a desk. We both were.”

“Well, let me make a call,” Spin told him, “and then, if you don’t mind, I would like to be personally involved in this incident as well.” In Emmine he would never have made such an offer, but from experience he knew that the police of Wennil relied on volunteers from the populace. It would have been more surprising and suspicious to the detectives had he not wished to be involved.

“We are gathering all data at the station, sir,” Garancy told him.

The Police Station of Castelon was neither a large nor imposing structure as it might have been elsewhere on Maiyim. In fact it was a small storefront affair with a deli on one side, a fish market on the other, with rooms for rent upstairs. It looked like a scene from two or three centuries in the past, but the actual station was a marvel of modern forensic technology.

By the time they arrived, less than twenty minutes later, there were already pictures of both Marliese and Slipstream on the TriVee screens, bulletins had been issued throughout the Wennil Archipelago, and reports were starting to come in from concerned citizens. There were several witnesses to the abduction giving statements to patient officers and a line of volunteers wanting to join a posse to go to the rescue of the two women once their whereabouts was established.

Within the hour, and with amazingly few false leads, in Spin’s opinion, they were able to track the blue floater to a small island to the south of Castelon whose name was listed as Broda. “That island is privately owned,” Garancy told them. “Well, that is not unusual. Most islands in our archipelago are privately owned. That’s part of why some folks come to Wennil. From what I can tell, this one is also heavily fortified, but I would be more surprised if it were not. The only folks I know who walk around here without a gun are mages, like you all, or else they have a preference for knives.” On his first trip to Wennil, Spin might have questioned the safety and wisdom of a totally armed society. He was fairly certain such a situation would be lethal in Randona or Keesport, but in Wennil, it worked. Each person could defend himself and frequently defended anyone else in need as well. It was a cultural difference, and a big one.

“A man’s home is his castle,” Spin remarked instead, nodding.

“Or a woman’s,” Garancy added. “We don’t know who currently owns that island.”

“You don’t?” Pulac-pa asked. “I’d have thought it would be important to keep track of that, at least.”

“That’s not the way we do things in Wennil, sir,” Garancy replied stiffly. “I can tell you that Broda was last sold to someone named Benjirou Henna one hundred and fifty-seven years ago, but the chance of that person still being alive is nearly nonexistent, even for an Orent.”

“Henna, you say?” Twist asked suspiciously. “Any relation to Henchowa and Senni Henna? The owners of Killo Magic?”

Garancy shot a meaningful look at a woman seated at a Net Maiyim terminal a few feet away and her fingers started flying across her virtual keyboard. “Benjirou was the grandfather of Henchawa Henna, sir,” she reported promptly.

“Sons and Daughters of Maiyim,” Twist concluded. “The Hennas are thought to be on the Inner Circle. They sure moved fast, though. How did they even know we were here?”

“Any number of ways,” Spin replied. “They might have coincidentally had agents who spotted us on the plane or maybe after we landed here. That would be my guess, but how they knew really doesn’t matter unless you’re feeling paranoid about security at Olen or on Maiyim Bourne. I’m not, so I think Marliese and Misana were just targets of opportunity.”

“Misana, sir?” Detective Slaone asked.

“Slipstream’s birth name was Misana Nasperov,” Spin explained. “Sometimes I still call her that. “Now, how do we stage a rescue from a heavily fortified island?”

“We usually ask for volunteers,” Garancy explained.

“Are you serious?” Pulac-pa countered.

“Quite,” Garancy nodded, “although in this case we will not have to ask. Several hundred men and women have already stepped forward. We do not tolerate this sort of crime in Wennil so while I doubt I could round up two or three fanatics to storm an island like Broda if the owners were simply threatening to kidnap someone or to build a nuclear device to unleash on the rest of the archipelago, this is clear and credible evidence of a crime already committed and no honest person in the entire nation will let that stand.

“We have good folks here in Wennil,” he went on. “If we had much in the way of laws, I would call them law-abiding. I certainly doubt many of them would break the laws of Emmine if they lived there, well, aside from the carrying of unlicensed weapons. Nothing can force a Wennilian to give up his guns, well unless he’s a mage, in which case he doesn’t need one, does he?”

“This is not really news to me,” Spin admitted, “but Wennil calls itself a ‘rational anarchy,’ right? I never have understood how you could organize anyone in an anarchy.”

“Simplicity itself,” Garancy laughed. “When you join a posse, you are agreeing to follow the orders of the person organizing it. In the early days of our history we were well on our way to becoming another Saindo. Four centuries ago we were just a collection of strongmen and warlords just like Saindo, in fact. And like Saindo many of our earliest colonists were pirates. The Council of Free Captains was our government, in fact. However Emmine grew tired of having a haven for pirates so near their waters and sent in their navy. The Navy sunk everything larger than a dinghy and hauled off the surviving captains for trial and subsequent execution, leaving men and women who according to our old laws, such as they were, had the rank of crew.

“There were some ships’ officers who survived Emmine’s attack,” Garancy continued, “but they were split on what to do next. Mostly they squabbled between themselves over who would be the new captains, but the crew populace had enough of captains by that time and a handful officers saw that a purge was in the air and that they could either join with the crewmen and women or find themselves in the vast minority. So instead they joined the crew, adding a bit of necessary leadership. The rest of the officers were captured or killed.

“We might have fallen into the worse sort of anarchy at that point,” Garancy told them, “and the crew populace was split between what new sort of government to establish. There was a five-year long Constitutional Convention that, in the end, failed to come up with anything a majority of the populace would agree to until ‘Handsome George’ Hanson proposed his Code of Behavior, which, after some revisions, still stands as the closest thing we have to a book of laws. In this case, the Code tells us to help our neighbors when they have been wronged because one day you’ll want their help in kind.”

“I have often thought,” Slaone added, “the reason the larger nations, Granom, Emmine and Bellinen, do not always coexist peacefully is that they do not have a similar Code of Behavior.”

“Perhaps,” Spin allowed, “but from my point of view, the main reason your system works for you is that you all believe in it. The People of Emmine believe in their King and Parliament. The people of Bellinen believe in… well, for the most part the ones I have spoken to don’t really like their Senators, but they do believe theirs is a better system than ours. On Ellisto they are ruled by a group of seven Lords, but they think it works and so, for them, it does, most of the time.”

“The rebellion last year says otherwise,” Garancy pointed out.

“We were there at the time,” Spin shot back. “The rebellion was not against the Lords in general. It started out as a protest in favor of the re-establishment of direct representation of the people, which, according to their Constitution, they had a right to. Some of the Lords, such as Lord Rotinere, supported the protestors, but Lord Casey was trying to use the unrest to establish himself as the sole dictator of the island nation. Casey and his wife, in fact, were rogue mages and Inner Circle members of the Sons and Daughters of Maiyim. From what I can tell most of his colleagues were sympathetic to the Sons and Daughters but not actually members of that group. Lord Mustard seems to still be involved with them, but Lord Fonterre, Marliese’s father has severed his ties and joined Rotinere’s faction. The rebellion, in the end, was only against Lord Casey. But that’s Ellisto and this is Wennil. How do we go from a group of volunteers to an organized rescue team?”

“We give orders, of course,” Slaone told him. “This is not an unprecedented situation. Two years ago a pair showed up from Saindo and started trying to organize a criminal underground. They thought they could use their bullying tactics here and soon built up a stronghold on the other side of the archipelago. They were sending gunboats out after passing commercial ships, which raised a few eyebrows, but we expected Emmine or Granom to step in. No one would have liked that, but I think we were all ready to support such a move. When they started attacking Wennillian craft, the rest of the populace decided it was time to take matters into their own hands. A group of concerned citizens organized a posse and twenty-four hours later there was an uninhabited island up for grabs. A friend of mine homesteaded it as a fishing resort.

“Anyway, we all know what to do,” Detective Slaone assured him. “It’s just a matter of deciding who goes where.”

The detective was correct and by the end of the afternoon, a flotilla of heavily armed hoppers and flyers had the Island of Broda under siege. So far as Spin and Pulac-pa could tell there was not much in the way of strategy involved in the attack. With over one hundred vehicles encircling the island, the all just came in at high speed with all weapons firing. The Wennilians knew their business, however, and within moments all mounted weapons on Broda – battle lasers, rockets and conventional shell throwers – had been destroyed under the first volley.

Continued air cover allowed two dozen hoppers to land in a courtyard within a large compound of buildings, including the one in which the mages rode. “Now where to?” Twist asked, grasping her wooden mage staff in hand. It was a family heirloom with bronze bands near the tips, which were still blackened from having been burnt. Twist strongly suspected one of her ancestors had nearly asked more out of the magical instrument than it was capable of. A physical material was only capable of holding so much magical energy. After that, the excess energy escaped rapidly, usually in the form of heat.

As Twist grabbed her staff, Spin pulled something the size and shape of a golden fountain pen from his shirt pocket. It rapidly grew into a golden metal staff. This staff had originally been a gift of the god Aritos to his children, but the children were demons and they, naturally, abused the power. The staff, while similar in nature to Twist’s was capable of doing much more, and had the talent of enhancing a mage’s skills, although it produced different results, depending on the user. Eventually, the staff came into the hands of Silverwind, the most famous wizard of all time and had been passed down through his family. It had been given to Twist and Spin on the occasion of their wedding to be used jointly, but by tacit agreement, Spin usually was the one to carry it.

“Pick a building, I think,” Spin replied, sweeping the golden staff toward the open hatch before them. The others on the large hopper had already stormed out into the courtyard and the sounds of gun and laster fire could be heard outside.

“We should split up,” Pulac-pa decided.

“Keep your wards up,” Twist advised as they started to separate.

“What wards?” Pulac-pa countered instantly. “I can’t do so much as lift a pebble here.”

Spin was the first to react to that news. “Null magic field. Follow me! We have to find cover.” He led the way through the hatch and spotted a gap between two buildings not too far away. Sprinting for that, he instinctively tried casting a ward. A moment later, he was dubiously rewarded by the sound of a bullet zinging off the protective field. “I can cast some spells,” he told the others once they were safely under cover. We need to figure out the situation.

They scanned the area together, using what some sensationalistic writers would have called their “magical senses.” Naturally, it was Twist who finished her diagnosis first. “We are not inside a null magic field. This is different. There’s just no magical energy here to use. That’s why the hoppers did not crash on landing. They each carry their own tech-magic batteries and run off of those. That’s also why the lasers are still working.”

“And conventional guns use chemical propellants,” Spin added. “so we only have as much magical energy as we each can carry. We should have charged up our staves to their limits. What we have in them now won’t last long.”

“And I don’t have a staff,” Pulac-pa pointed out.

“I have told you to start carrying one,” Twist pointed out. “We showed you how to use it.”

“It feels silly,” Pulac-pa complained.

“Sillier than charging into battle without a weapon?” Spin countered.

“It’s not the first time,” Pulac-pa admitted, “but in hindsight, you are correct.”

Spin looked around and found some bricks that had been used to mark the edge of a garden bed. He pulled one out of the ground and handed it to the Tzal. “Use this,” he suggested.

“What do I charge it up with?” Pulac-pa asked. “There’s no magical energy here.”

“Use the battery of the hoppers over there,” Twist instructed him. Leave enough power in them for the cars to fly and don’t let the brick get too hot. You can burn your hands off that way.”

“Not bad,” Pulac-pa chuckled as he went to work, “and when I run out of power, I can always throw the brick.” He noticed that Spin and Twist were charging up their staves in the same manner.

“You also have the innate magical energy you carry around in your body,” Spin pointed out, “but I suggest holding that in reserve. Using that up is another good way to kill yourself in a hurry. Okay. Is everyone ready?”

“Let’s stay together and work our way over to that short squarish building over there,” Pulac-pa pointed at one about a quarter of the way around the ring of buildings.

“Why there?” Twist asked.

“Just a feeling I have,” the Tzal admitted. “It only has a few windows, all of which are covered with bars and the door is obviously a metal one. If I were trying to keep someone prisoner, that’s the sort of place I would use. Also no one else seems to be able to open the door. I think this brick might work.”

“It might,” Spin agreed, “but allow me.” He led them toward their objective while maintaining a strong ward. Laser light and bullets alike bounced off of it, although when someone shot a rocket at the ward, all three were thrown around by the concussion.

That was where Twist’s talents came into play as she buffered the impact for them, so while they did go flying, it rapidly became a controlled flight and soon she was letting them down gently before the building Pulac-pa had chosen. They ran toward the door and just as they reached the bottom of a short flight of stairs, Spin reached out with his mind and translocated the door and its frame out of the way, revealing several startled people within.

Elsewhere, Slipstream and Marliese were just waking up. “What happened?” the Granom groaned through a bad headache, adding, “Where are we?”

Marliese opened her eyes and looked around. It hurt to move; she felt bruised all over. “Don’t know,” she groaned back at her friend, “but I wouldn’t tip the help.” The room was only barely lit, but even in the subdued light they could see the stacks of wooden crates along one wall and the footprints in a deep layer of dirt and dust on the floor

“Funny,” Slipstream replied flatly. She sneezed abruptly and instantly regretted it as pain shot through her. “Ow!”

“Gods bless,” Marliese replied automatically and then apologized, “Sorry I always did have a smart mouth when I should just shut up. It drove Daddy mad.”

“Which is probably why you did it,” Slipstream commented. “Last thing I remember, we were just walking down the street in Castelon, Are we even still in Castelon?”

“Hey!” Marliese complained. “I just got here too. Sorry again.”

“Don’t apologize for that,” Slipstream told her. “If it didn’t hurt so much, I’d laugh. Actually, I like your spirit. I’m just scared out of my wits.”

“You hide it well,” Marliese replied, “I wish I could seem so cool and collected.”

Slipstream did not bother to tell the younger woman that she seemed to be the far more confident of the two. They had more important things to figure out just now. Slipstream held one finger to her lips and whispered, “I’m going to look around the room. You should too, but don’t actually try to escape. Not yet.”

Marliese nodded and together they started examining the room they were in.

“Just one door,” Slipstream reported quietly a few minutes later. “Did you maybe spot a camera?”

“No,” Marliese whispered, shaking her head, “but the security cameras in Dad’s estate are nearly invisible if you don’t know where to look. Did you hear that?” she asked that question louder.

“What?” Slipstream asked without thinking, but then she heard it too. “Sounds like gunfire, but a long way away.”

“Or else these walls dampen the sound really well,” Marliese conjectured. “If anyone was watching us, I suspect they have something else on their minds at the moment. Do you know how to pick a lock telekinetically?”

“No,” Slipstream laughed, “but I don’t need to. Watch.” She tried to use a spell to tear the door off its hinges but nothing happened.

“What am I watching?” Marliese asked.

“Nothing, apparently,” Slipstream sighed. She took a deep look around the room and noticed the same lack of magic Twist had. “Uh oh. We’re in trouble.”

“You think?” Marliese snapped back at her.

“No,” Slipstream verbally back-tracked, “I mean there’s no magical energy here.”

“Are we being kept in a null magic field?” Marliese asked, looking around for herself.

“Maybe,” Slipstream replied, then changed her mind. “No, I think it’s something else. I can see your aura clearly enough, but there’s just no magical energy in the area. I wonder if this is sort of like the opposite of a ‘place of power.’”

“A what?” Marliese asked.

“I would have thought you’d have heard the phrase,” Slipstream remarked. “Spin told me that was something the Sons and Daughters have been studying for years.”

“I’m not one of the Sons and Daughters of Maiyim,” Marliese replied. “Never have been and neither was Dad. He was just a sympathizer for a time, but he learned better.”

“Oh. Well, according to what Spin says, they have this fascination with places where there seems to be more magical energy in the area than others, but Fireiron says…”

“Who is Fireiron?” Marliese asked.

“Oh that’s right,” Slipstream recalled. “She stopped teaching at Olen shortly before you arrived. She’s the most marvelous teacher though. She had a class called Life 101 that some mages take over and over again. They say it is never the same. Anyway, she confirmed to Spin that there are places of power. However. it doesn’t make a whole lot of difference in what you can do, because the key to really advanced magic is control, not power. It just seemed to me that if there are places where energy concentrates, there ought to be places where there’s less than average too.”

“Less than average, doesn’t mean none at all,” Marliese argued. “That sort of sounds like something I had in class this year about how magical energy flows around the world. It’s sort of like the wind and weather systems. Even if you use all the power in one place, more soon flows in to fill the gap. ‘Nature abhors a vacuum,’ my teacher said. Shouldn’t that have happened here?”

“What if someone drove out all the magic from this place on purpose?” Slipstream asked.

“Why would they do that?” Marliese asked, but even as Slipstream shrugged she remembered something she had heard about outside her father’s office one afternoon. “Slipstream? Have you ever heard of something called an N-bomb?”

“No,” Slipstream shook her head. “What is it?”

“I over heard that woman talking to someone about it,” Marliese explained.

“That woman?” Slipstream echoed. “You mean the one who tried to enslave you to the demon? Can’t you even say her name?”

“Henowa Bai!” Marliese barely kept herself from shouting. “I don’t like saying her name. It gives her too much honor.”

“I see,” Slipstream nodded. “Taking away her name diminishes her in some way? Well, have it your way, but her honor or the lack of it neither increases nor diminishes your own. Only you can control that.”

“Yeah, right,” Marliese shrugged, “but I did overhear her talking to someone about an N Bomb. The result of setting one off sounded a bit like what we see here.”

“But why doesn’t the magical energy just come back in?” Slipstream asked.

“You remember your physics, don’t you?” Marliese prompted her. “An explosion pushes all sorts of force outward from a point at the center. I don’t know if an N Bomb produces a real explosion, but it seems to me that if it is something that pushes outward, it might change the natural flow of magic in an area. It might literally push it and keep it away.”

“Forever?” Slipstream asked.

“Maybe just a very long time,” Marliese replied, “or maybe not. I don’t know. I did not really hear all that much and none of it involved the technical details of how it worked. I’m just guessing, but if I am right, then the only magic we have to work with is what’s inside of us. We can do simple spells.”

“With no magic around us though, we could kill ourselves,” Slipstream pointed out. “Normally we replenish our supply naturally. It’s a relatively slow process if you aren’t helping it along, but it happens. A good night’s sleep will refresh you both physically and magically, but not here. Any magic you use here is gone until we get out, if we can.”

“Better make it work then,” Marliese replied, taking a look at the one door in the room. “You sure you don’t know how to pick locks?”

“When would I have ever have needed to?” Slipstream asked.

“Pulac-pa knows how,” Marliese pointed out.

“Have you actually listened to the stories he tells?” Slipstream laughed. “Sure, he’s been everywhere and done everything, but he grew up on the streets and from what I understand that’s even tougher than it is on Maiyim. Yes, he pulled himself up by the scruff of his own neck, but he also spent a lot of time in his youth living hand to mouth. If he knows how to pick locks, he probably also knows how to steal a car and knock over a convenience store. Somewhere along the line, he turned himself around or maybe someone did it for him. I notice he doesn’t talk about that too much, only that he managed to get himself into a pilot training program, but I wonder where the money came to pay for that training, because there may be student loans on Tzal, but there sure aren’t any scholarships for loners. In any case, he did become a highly respected loner on a world where loners are generally considered the trash of society, but don’t forget he had to start at the very bottom.”

Marliese sighed. “I know that intellectually,” she admitted, “but I was one of the aristocrats. It’s hard to imagine.”

“Not for me,” Slipstream told her.

“You started out that way too?” Marliese asked, her eyes wide.

“Great Methis! No,” Slipstream laughed, “but I wasn’t rich either, even if my multi-great grandmother was the most famous person in the history of my nation. I did have a scholarship, but it didn’t pay for everything, so I had to work when I wasn’t in class. Mostly, I was a tour guide, that’s how I met Spin and Twist, but I also waited on tables, cleaned other students’ dorm rooms and apartments and made jewelry.”

“Jewelry?” Marliese asked interestedly.

“Yeah, I’m pretty good with silver wire and solder,” Slipstream laughed, “though these days I can do the same thing without a torch. Let’s get out of here and I show you some of my pieces when we get back to Olen.”

“Wow!’ Marliese reacted. “All I know how to do is magic.”

“So you need a hobby or two,” Slipstream laughed. “maybe Pulac-pa will teach you how to hot-wire a hopper.”

“Right now I wish he’d taught me how to pick a lock,” Marliese replied.

“Wouldn’t do us any good,” Slipstream replied. “Look at this door. It has a bar-type handle and no keyhole. I suspect the locking mechanism is on the other side and is probably a deadbolt. For all I know it, it could be an iron bar that slides manually.” She pushed and then tugged on the door’s handle experimentally. “See, it barely wiggles a bit and the hinges are on the other side. That doesn’t leave us much to work with. Come to think about it, with no magic, how is there any light in this room?”

“Glass prisms in the ceiling,” Marliese pointed out, “like on an old wooden sailing ship. They transmit light naturally from upstairs. This must be a really old building.”

“Could be,” Slipstream nodded, “or else the builders planned for the lack of magic here. They should have used more of those prisms though. There’s not anywhere enough light in here. We can see because our eyes have adjusted, but someone just coming in from outside would be blind.”

“Good,” Marliese replied. “That’s one for us. Now all we need to do is get out. Is the gunfire getting closer?”

“It might be,” Slipstream shrugged, “or else there’s even more of it now.”

“Well, then, let’s open that door,” Marliese told her. “We can start with the hinges.”

“But we can’t reach the hinges,” Slipstream protested.

“Sure we can,” Marliese nodded. “Telekinesis.”

“No magic, remember?”

“Except for what is inside us,” Marliese nodded again. She stepped closer to the door and carefully used a trick Twist had taught her to “feel” the far side of the door. Twist just did it with her thoughts, but Marliese had to imagine using a phantom arm, but in some ways that was better because she could just push that metaphorical arm through the door and feel around. “There are three hinges,” she reported a minute later and pointed. “Here, here and here. I’ll do the first one.”

“Be careful,” Slipstream warned her.

“Spot for me,” Marliese replied. “Stop me if I use up too much of my own energy.” She concentrated on the top hinge. “Wow, the pin is really hard to move. There! I got it.” Outside they heard an iron clink as the pin hit the concrete floor.

“That sounded like a really substantial pin,” Slipstream observed.

“Yes,” Marliese agreed. “Very heavy duty. Let me rest and I’ll do the next one.”

“Resting won’t help,” Slipstream reminded her. “You’re running on empty. Well, maybe I can be a bit more efficient.” She went to work on the middle hinge. The pin came out with effort, but it took everything she had to accomplish it.

“One more hinge,” Marliese noted as Slipstream slumped to the floor beside her. “I feel a little better now.”

“That’s impossible,” Slipstream told her. “Your magic can’t recharge here.”

“Maybe not,” Marliese replied, “but aside from the bruises, I feel less tired than I did a few minutes ago.”

Slipstream looked at the younger woman. “Huh! You have revived a bit, haven’t you. Your aura was just barely visible when you finished with that hinge. Now it is almost back to normal. How do I look?”

“Pretty dim,” Marliese replied and then corrected herself, “Your aura, I mean.”

“Heh!” Slipstream faked a laugh, “I’m not feeling too bright at the moment. But where are you getting the energy from?”

There was a crashing sound and the whole building shook. “We have to get out of here,” Marliese told her friend determinedly, but when Slipstream failed to answer, Marliese turned and saw the Granomish woman had lost consciousness.

Slipstream looked bad. Her aura was flickering and even a rank apprentice like Marliese could see that was dangerous. Heedless of her own danger, Marliese shared some of her own magical energy with Slipstream and the Granom’s aura stabilized, although she remained unconscious. The sharing had weakened Marliese again, but this time she could feel herself recovering. There was another loud noise from outside, an explosion, Marliese thought, so she worked on the final hinge.

The effort, combined with giving Slipstream some of her own energy proved too much for the apprentice and she had to sit back down on the floor before she had slipped the hinge pin out more than an inch or so. Unlike Slipstream, however, she did not pass out and out of habit she reached for the small golden coin she always spun around her head when trying to solve a magical problem. She immediately realized that was a foolish idea. It would only use up her small source of magic, increasing the problem, instead of solving it. Then she noticed something; the coin had an aura, a bright one.

Back outside Spin, Twist and Pulac-pa had just finished fighting their way through the fortress-like building the Tzal had chosen as a possible prison. It had turned out to be an armory and the men and women inside were armed to the teeth. It would have been child’s play to knock them out in most circumstances or to simply contain them in a ward, but the mages’ supply of magic was limited, so Spin simply pulled energy from out of their opponants, forcing them into unconsciousness.

“Hope I didn’t kill anyone that way,” he told the others as they finally left the building.

“They were trying to kill us,” Pulac-pa told him.

“I know,” Spin nodded, “and I have killed when I had to, but this time it wasn’t necessary, or normally it shouldn’t have been. We usually just hold people like this in wards.”

“At least you added to our supply of magical energy,” Pulac-pa pointed out.

“Not really,” Spin replied, “I didn’t actually take much from them. They didn’t have much to begin with and it took more to pull what I did than I gained in the process for some reason.”

“They must have been here a long time,” Twist decided. “I read a paper a few years ago about prolonged exposure to null magic fields. There were no physical affects, but the author pointed out that null magic is still a use of magical energy. He conjectured that a lack of magical energy in any form might cause a test animal or a person, for that matter, to gradually weaken and die. I think that is what was happening here. We can’t stay on this island. No one should.”

“First we have to find Marliese and Slipstream,” Spin told her. “Which building should we check next?” There was a sudden explosion and one of the buildings on the far side of the courtyard exploded.

“Hopefully, not that one,” Pulac-pa replied when they had picked themselves back up. “Let’s just work our way from building to building.”

The next two buildings had already been cleared by the Wennil volunteers by the time the mages arrived and they arrived in time to see Marliese supporting Slipstream as they made their way out of the third. “What happened to Slipstream?” Twist asked as she ran to help Marliese. Slipstream’s heavy Granomish bone structure mean she was far heavier than a human woman and Twist marveled that Marliese had been able to help the Granom out of the building.

“She used too much magic,” Marliese explained, “Nearly drain all her life energy. I was able to give some of it back to her, but not enough, I guess. Or maybe I did it wrong.”

All around them, the Wennil volunteers were finishing up their business here. Two of the volunteers had died in the assault and dozens were wounded, but morale was high as they rounded up the few surviving prisoners. “I don’t suppose the owners were home this afternoon,” Spin remarked to Detective Garancy as Twist and Marliese helped.

“No such luck,” Garancy replied sourly. “Just this small army and they weren’t much. I think they forgot that in a magically nullified region, their tech magic radar wouldn’t work. They never saw us coming until we showed up in this courtyard.” Spin was about to explain this was not the effect of a normal null-magic device, but Garancy noticed, “One of your women looks pretty bad. We had better rush her back to Castelon and have a doc check her out.”

Five

“So tell me how you and Slipstream escaped,” Twist requested while waiting outside the emergency room.

“We used telekinesis to pull the hinge pins on a door,” Marliese explained. “It really drained Slipstream though.”

“But not you?” Twist prompted.

“Well, yes, me too, but I had a reserve,” Marliese replied and then realized Twist was going to press for details. “After the first pin, I was exhausted, you know, but by the time Slipstream did the second one I was starting to feel better so I rested some more, but she wasn’t getting any better so I shared some of my energy and that helped her a little although I couldn’t pull the third hinge pin right away. That’s when I noticed my coin had an aura.”

“It must have absorbed a bit of energy after all these months of you playing with it,” Twist commented, “but how much energy could it have held?”

“Well it is half an ounce of gold,” Marliese pointed out. “It’s a lot more massive than aluminum or even brass coins. So anyway I used the energy in the coin to pull the final pin. I thought I could just push the door open then, but I forgot about the bolt on the handle side.”

“Did you use telekinesis to slide back the bolt too?” Twist asked.

“Huh! I should have done that first,” Marliese realized, but we just assumed it was attached to the door’s lock. Instead, it was just an iron sliding bolt like you might put on a tool shed or something. Pretty stupid, though the door was locked too with one of those locks you can force with an ID card. I didn’t know that until I got the door open, though. I had to get down on the floor and use my legs to push it open. I kept expecting it to just fall off the hinges and drop to the floor, but instead I bent the iron bolt until I was able to slip out of the room. Then I had to pull the door away from the locking side of the frame.

“Finally, I gave Slipstream a bit more energy, I think,” Marliese went on. “She didn’t improve much but at least she woke up long enough to get upstairs and into the hopper. Well, you know that part ‘cause you were there.”

“I’m somewhat amazed you know how to use power from a storage source,” Twist remarked. “That really is journeyman class magic, you know. I think we’ll get staves for both you and Slipstream tomorrow morning. She ought to have one anyway even if she does think it is old-fashioned, and I think you’re more than ready for it. There’s a trick to storing energy in one, but I suspect you’ll pick it up soon enough. The main thing is to not charge it up too rapidly. Well, like I said, I’ll show you how it’s done. There’s no sign of the flight ban being lifted any time soon, so we should have plenty of time on the ship to practice.

“But I never knew you were using external power sources already,” Twist continued.

“Me neither,” Marliese shrugged. “I think I’ve been doing that all along though. You know how apprentices always get so tired after a lab session? I never felt that way. Just the opposite, really. I usually feel refreshed and ready for something else. Could I have been charging up the coin without knowing it?”

“You must have been,” Twist smiled. “I hope you find it just as easy when you’re trying to do it intentionally. Hmm, maybe I’d better get you two staves.”

“Two staves?” Marliese asked. “What good is that?”

“You’ll have a spare for when you literally burn the first one out,” Twist chuckled. “Seriously though, I really think you should think some more about a mage name, dear. You’re doing things that even talented journeymen like Slipstream find a challenge.”

“Uh, actually, I did have some time to think about that,” Marliese confessed. “What do you think about Seastar?”

“It has a nice ring to it,” Twist nodded. “What does it mean to you?”

“It’s what Marliese means in Modern Maiyim,” Marliese explained. “I don’t think I really want to change my name, but this wouldn’t feel like that, see? My name means Seastar so that really is who I am. Is that okay?”

“I think suits you, Seastar,” Twist smiled warmly at her apprentice.

A few minutes later Spin arrived with Slipstream, now looking much healthier. “Marliese,” Slipstream told the younger women, “They tell me I may very well owe my life to you.”

“You would have done the same for me, Misana,” Seastar told her.

“Ha!” Slipstream let a short laugh out. “Usually it’s only Spin who calls me that.”

“Well, I found my mage now,” Seastar admitted and explained once again.

“I like it,” Slipstream told her friend. “Hey, let’s go find something to eat. I’m starving, but not enough to eat hospital food. Where’s Leadfoot, by the way?”

“Pulac is at the police station helping the detectives with their reports,” Spin replied. “I’m not sure just whom they report to, but paperwork is ubiquitous in any society and Pulac can tell them everything we saw. He’ll meet us back at the hotel later. There’s not much in the local restaurants he can eat without dosing himself with broad spectrum anti-allergens in advance.”

“I’ve seen him eat stuff right from the cafeteria in Olen,” Seastar remarked.

“It’s the spices they use here,” Spin explained. “Almost everything has either thyme or sumac in it and he has trouble with both. He shouldn’t have too much trouble on the Marquess though. Some Granomish foods are poisonous to a Tzal, but those that aren’t, are perfectly safe even if they are somewhat lacking in nutrition for him.”

“That’s why he carries his supplement packs with him,” Slipstream added. “But really, I’m starved. “Don’t know about you all, but I haven’t eaten since before we were kidnapped.”

Part 2 – Alexai Trellov

One

Two days later, with still no sign of commercial flights being resumed, Air Emmine started making deals with erstwhile passengers. There was a passenger ship bound for Castelon from Emmine with the express purpose of delivering the flight passengers to Granom, but it would not arrive for another week. When Spin admitted he had already booked passage on Marquesse of Nanir the airline representative happily paid for the mages’ passage which surprised Spin at first until he realized that it probably would cost much more to place them on the chartered ship. For a moment he was tempted to wait for the cruiseship which would certainly offer a more comfortable trip, but even though it was headed directly for Quirna whereas the Marquesse would leave them in Endertone at the far end of the very long island, they were still shaving a week off their travel time at least.

“This is quite nice, actually,” Slipstream commented when they were shown to their cabins two decks up in the freighter’s superstructure. “I’m not sure what I was expecting but…”

“One should keep his ship as he would his home, Miss,” the crewman who was guiding them responded. “For a lot of us, this is home, in fact. Trust me, you do not want to serve on a ship that is not kept like this. How we make a living is dangerous enough, but if everything is not kept clean, neat and in its place a ship soon becomes a death trap.”

“I understand that in the cargo holds and on deck,” Slipstream replied, but what difference would it make in the personal cabins.

“Some men are slobs, Miss, That is true,” the crewman replied politely, “but it only takes one good storm with loose things flying around your cabin to teach you to make sure everything is secured. Now, you two ladies settle in. The galley will be open as soon as we clear the harbor.”

“Thank you,” Seastar told the man.

“You’re welcome, Miss.”

“Polite fellow, isn’t he?” Slipstream remarked once they were alone.

“Just as Twist told me,” Seastar replied. “A jerk doesn’t make many friends at sea and in an emergency one tends to help friends before enemies. I imagine the bullies are weeded out pretty quickly.”

“Good point,” Slipstream admitted, tossing her suitcase down on one of two bunks. “Hmm, I wonder if it pays to unpack for a week at sea. I think I can live out of my suitcase that long.” She picked the suitcase back up and placed in on a nearby chair.”

“It doesn’t take much time to repack,” Seastar told her, already moving clothing into a set of drawers by her bed. Instead of a simple knob, each drawer had a latch to secure it when shut. “…and, thinking about what our guide told us, I suggest you do use these drawers the same as I am. If we hit a storm, that suitcase of yours could suddenly become a projectile. Unpack and then secure it in the closet.”

“Yes, Mama,” Slipstream replied sarcastically.

“The concussion you save could be mine,” Seastar shot back.

“Yeah, yeah, okay. You made your point,” Slipstream grumbled as she started taking clothing out of the suitcase. There was a knock on the door. “Come in!”

The door opened to reveal Pulac-pa. “Still unpacking? I just threw my bag in the closet.”

“You’re not living with little mother here,” Slipstream told him.

“Well if you wish to visit the Royal Court of Granom looking like you slept inside your suitcase along with your clothes,” Seastar told her, “you go right ahead, but my Dad in is Querna right now and I am not going to embarrass him by showing up, looking like some tourist from Bellinen.”

“You’re looking a little pale, Ora,” Slipstream told her, using the anachronistic honorific for a female Orent, “and a little short. Oh, heck, I may as well, hang my blouses and skirts up too.”

“Good thinking,” Seastar commended her as she finished up and tossed the now empty bag in the bottom of her closet and secured the door. “So, what’s going on, Pulac-pa?”

“Not much,” the Tzal replied. “I just thought you two might like to stroll around the deck until the galley opens, but I can watch you two bicker back and forth too.”

“I wouldn’t mind exploring a bit,” Seastar admitted, “but is it safe to just walk around? I mean this is a working ship, not a cruise liner. I didn’t notice any set promenade deck when we came in.”

“Well I wouldn’t advise barging in on the bridge or down in the engine room just now,” Pulac-pa replied, “and digging through the cargo hold would probably not be appreciated at any time, but I think it should be safe enough so long as we didn’t start playing with the winches or untying anything that has been secured to the deck.”

“I’m sure we would not get a lot of thanks for playing with the anchor either,” Slipstream added. “There, I’m unpacked. Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” Seastar smirked. “Let’s have a look around.”

They met Spin and Twist just exiting their own cabin and their plans changed when Spin informed them, “The captain has invited us to join him on the bridge. These days I think that’s fairly unusual, since I would think the last place that needs spectators is the bridge of a ship making its way through a narrow harbor channel, but the Captain says it is traditional to have a mage on the bridge when possible.”

“I suspect he is confusing a general practice mage with one of the old pilots who used to guide ships in and out of harbors like this one,” Twist added, “but so long as we don’t get in the way, I am sure it will be fascinating.”

They made their way up a series of staircases that circled their way up to the top of the ship’s superstructure and soon brought them into a semi-circular room about twelve feet across. It had a deck of sealed and polished teak wood planks and plate glass windows affording the bridge crew a panoramic view nearly three quarters of a circle around them. There were also two tri-vee screens displaying the area astern of the ship if one turned around to look at them.

The instrument panels were all flashing lights, meters and various radar, sonar and global positioning screens at various stations, and the overall impression the mages got that that the bridge was decorated in chromium plated metal, glass and black leather. Several men were busy at their stations as the captain and first mate oversaw the operation and Spin thought he and his party could observe quietly out of the way until one of the crew noticed them and announced, ‘Visitors on the bridge!”

“Ah!” Captain Morres Hartov smiled, turning to greet them, “Our wizards!”

“Actually, Twist and I are only master mages,” Spin corrected him.

“That’s good too,” the captain replied jovially and introduced the bridge crew, all of whom nodded briefly to their guests and then promptly returned to their duties of guiding the large freighter out of Castelon harbor. Then Spin introduced the mages to the captain and his mate before settling back to watch the men doing their work.

“Ahoy, Marquesse of Nanir,” a voice over the radio could be heard off to one side. “This is Tugboat Tammy Dee. You are now in the channel and we note you are under your own power. Safe voyage, Marquesse.”

“Thank you, Tammy Dee,” the radio man responded. “See you again in a few weeks.”

“Captain we have some pleasure boats a mile downrange crossing the channel,” another man reported. “Also there’s another vessel seemingly at rest at the mouth of the harbor.”

“Keep an eye on the pleasure craft,” Captain Hartov instructed him. “They ought to have the speed, if not the sense, to stay out of our way. Call the ship at the mouth though. Let’s make sure they aren’t blocking our exit.”

The radio man checked a screen and found he had a name to call, “Ahoy, Jane and Zelda, this is Marquess of Nanir,” he added their position, course and velocity. “We note you are at rest at the mouth of the harbor. Any problems?”

“Aye, Marquess,” came the prompt reply. “Our engines are offline. Our engineers expect to have the problem resolved in ten to fifteen minutes or so. We shall keep you informed.”

“Thank you Jane and Zelda,” the radioman replied and turned toward the captain. “It’s a fishing boat. We’re about fifteen minutes from their position.”

“Maybe they’ll be underway again by then,” the captain remarked. “Hold your course, but be prepared to stop if we must.”

“That’s a very big boat,” Seastar remarked, “or should I be calling it a ship?”

“Almost as large as the Marquesse,” the captain agreed. “If she were a freighter, I would call her a ship, but fishers and submarines are nearly always referred to as boats regardless of size.”

Ten minutes later they heard, “Marquesse, this is Jane and Zelda. We are underway again. Have a good trip.”

“Thank you Jane and Zelda,” the radioman replied. “Same to you.”

They watched the large fishing boat rotate and start heading in to the harbor along the inbound lane of the channel. The two ships blew their horns at each other in passing and then Marquesse of Nanir finally cleared the harbor.

“Set standard duty watches, Mister Bertensk,” Captain Hartov commanded his mate,” and take the first watch. “I shall relieve you in,” he paused to check his watch, “two hours.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Bertensk replied as the captain led his guests off the bridge.

“You look familiar, Master Spinnaker,” the captain commented as they walked. “Have we met?”

“I don’t think so,” Spin replied, “but my wife and I have been on the TriVee more than we like to think about.”

“TriVee?” Captain Hartov frowned, “I hardly ever watch that trash. No, I could swear we’ve met on business.”

“Um,” Spin considered, “have you put in at Keesport, perhaps? Carter Imports?”

“That’s it,” Hartov nodded. “You look a little like Marvon Carter and his son Harrace. Are you related?”

“He’s my dad,” Spin nodded, “and Harry’s my younger brother.”

“That must be it,” Hartov agreed. “I didn’t know Marvon had a son who was a wizard, uh master.”

“I’m sure it just never came up while you were dealing with him,” Spin shrugged. “Have you been there recently?”

“Just came from there, in fact,” Hartov admitted. “About half my load is from Carter Imports this trip.”

“More recently than I have, then,” Spin sighed. “Since the war began I haven’t been able to travel by air except on business and even in a modern hopper it’s a two day trip to Keesport from Olen.”

They chatted on as they entered the messdeck. Having just opened, there was a short line of crewmen queued up for the first meal of the trip. “We’ll have to wait in line,” the captain informed the mages. “I know on some ships officers and guests can cut in a queue, but not here.”

“That’s fine,” Spin smiled. “That just makes it fair.”

“Who is that?” Slipstream asked, pointing at a large painting of a middle aged and somewhat imposing Granomish woman on the far bulkhead.

“That, my dear, is the Marquesse of Nanir,” captain replied proudly.

“Wizard Southgate,” Twist identified the woman at the same time. There was no shortage of awe in her voice.

“Excuse me?” Hartov asked.

“Marquesse was her title,” Twist replied, “Granted to her by King Ksaveras, uh, the Eleventh, if I recall correctly, but her mage name was Southgate. According to Saltspray’s journal her birth name was Korinna and she thought there was something romantic between her grandfather, the Wizard Candle, and Southgate. She was a great lady, but I am surprised to find merchant ship bearing her name.”

“I think one of the owners is a descendant,” Hartov informed her.

“We ran into another of her descendants a few years ago,” Spin added. “He was in command of the Isle of Carlifa. Well, after two centuries or so I imagine she might have many descendants. It’s a magnificent painting and that’s another surprise. On such a modern ship I might have expected a Tri-Dee Screen with her likeness on it.”

“We Granomen can be amazingly conservative about such things,” Hartov laughed, “and a painting won’t flicker out if we lose power.”

“There is that!” Pulac-pa laughed.

The dined at length with the captain, mostly discussing trivia, but here and there Hartov gave them a run down on ship’s regulations and safe practices. Spin got the notion it was something he did whenever there were paying passengers on board, which, when he asked was in maybe one trip in three.

When they were done, the sun was just setting and after watching the sky turn black, the mages made their way back to their cabins. Seastar stayed up a few hours studying some of the electronic books she had loaded on her implants, but Slipstream went right to sleep. Finally, Seastar decided it had been a long day and turned the light off on her side of the cabin as well.

Two

They spent the next week trying to relax with only varying degrees of success. True to her word, Twist had found wooden staves for the younger women. As staves, they did not really meet with Islandtwist’s approval. They had started out as a single wooden pole that had been twelve feet long. The lumberman at the hardware store had been happy to cut the staff in half and then handed one each to Seastar and Slipstream with a flourish.

The two mages were delighted in spite Twist’s complaints that the plain wood had no outstanding character. However, Spin stepped in and added several sheets of sandpaper and a can of wood polish to the purchase.

“I’m told some mages used to cover their staves with carvings,” Spin told them. “Maybe it’s just my modern aesthetics, but I prefer the simplicity of well-finished wood, allowing the grain to be its own decoration.”

“What sort of wood is this?” Seastar asked.

“It’s ash,” Slipstream identified the hard, dense wood. “There are quite a few ash trees in the New Forest outside Rjalkatyp. So many, in fact, that recently we’ve been forced to thin them out. The price of ash wood really dropped on the Isle of Fire when the local wood was suddenly able to go on sale. Oak, pine and maple still have to be imported, but there’s always enough black cherry. Those trees yield very pretty and useful wood, but they only live three or four decades. We use them to give shelter to slower growing varieties. Of course, even ash and cherry wood is pricey compared to what it costs in Emmine or Granom. I’d hate to have bought this staff at home. Thanks, Spin.”

“You’re welcome,” Spin nodded. “Of course now you have to show Twist you know how to use it.”

“Well, I know the theory,” Slipstream replied, but several days later on the Marquesse she had to admit there was a vast difference between theory and practice. It bothered Slipstream that Seastar took to using the staff with far more ease, but Twist thought it had more to do with the differences in their earlier education.

“You were trained in a very modern manner, Slipstream,” Twist told her during their second day at sea. “Outside of Olen, staves are considered old fashioned and most modern mages hold them in contempt as a remnant of the Age of Faith. That’s because most modern mages have forgotten just how useful a staff can be as an energy battery. Ironically, it is the tech mages who understand why we use them, though most tech mages will tell you a block of metal is a more efficient battery.”

“I think this is easier to carry around,” Slipstream smiled. “And finishing it gives me something to do while trying to charge it up.”

“It’s looking nicer with the partially rounded ends,” Twist admired the shaping Slipstream had accomplished.

“That’s the way I’m used to with staves,” Slipstream told her.

“I thought you didn’t use wood this way in Rjalkatyp,” Twist pointed out.

“No, my staff at home was made of light plastic,” Slipstream replied. “My sport back in high school was stick fighting. Very traditional, though now that I think of it, I’m not sure why since the Isle of Fire never had forests until we planted our own.”

“I suspect staff fighting was practiced by the original colonists,” Twist remarked. “It’s strange, sometimes, what relics of our past survive. Your main problem is that you are trying to charge it up all at once, which is risky.”

“No kidding!” Slipstream laughed. “Last night it nearly caught on fire. The wood is a bit darker now. Fortunately, Seastar stopped me.”

“You’re used to just picking up external energy and putting it to use,” Twist told her. “The wood resists the flow of magical energy so it heats up if you push it. Try thinking of the wood as though it was still alive with water flowing through the bark. Then let the energy flow in the same way. Once you pick up the knack, you’ll find you can do it almost without thinking. It’s too bad Maiyim Bourne is not here. The boat keeps a staff perfectly charged and you could watch how it happens.”

“So I need to slow down?” Slipstream asked.

“Just a very little,” Twist nodded. “It’s really more like letting the energy flow with the grain of the wood. Do it slowly a few times and as you get better you’ll find you can pick up speed.”

Seastar, it turned out had the opposite problem. She could charge her staff up quickly and easily, but had trouble getting the energy back out of it. Either she got just a trickle or else it all came out at once, heating the staff up in the same way Slipstream’s had. In her case, Twist set her to discharging exercises in which she would charge and discharge the staff slowly, but completely until she too understood how the energy flowed through the staff.

After several days of practice both women were able to get the energy in and out of their staves with ease and Twist started giving them actual assignments, such as casting various wards and light spells entirely using magical energy from their staves.

In their spare time both Slipstream and Seastar continued to finish their staves. When they had finally sanded the entire surfaces with extra fine sandpaper, they started applying coats of polish until both instruments had a smooth glossy finish marred only when Seastar insisted that Slipstream show her how to fight with a staff. The wood itself had been hardened by the over heatings that nearly caused them to burn so there were only a few small dents in them, but both women had to reapply the polish after every practice session to restore the overall finish.

Throughout the voyage, Twist, Spin and Pulac-pa kept glued to the news channels when the TriVee screen in the crew’s recreation room could pick up a broadcast. Once in a while, when conditions were right, they were able to talk to Maiyim and get messages to Freddy and King Othon, but as slow as their progress was, there was no news about King Ksaveras good or bad from any quarter.

Finally, however, the voyage came to an end a week later when the coast or Quirnlia came into sight as the morning sun rose up over the horizon. A few hours later, they were in Endertone, trying without success to rent a hopper.

“I am sorry, sir, but we do not rent hoppers, floaters or flyers,” the too cheerful woman at the desk told Spin when he made his request. He frankly thought her green uniform was an exceedingly poor combination with her Granomish white skin and dark hair and privately wondered if there was any Granom on which the corporate uniform looked good. “I do not believe anyone in Granom does. Well, maybe in Pafsa. They’re strange up there.”

Spin was about to ask how the Pafsans were strange, but instead grumbled, “I forgot that flying cars were not in general usage here. Well, okay, I need to get five people to Quirna fastest. What have you got that will do the trick?”

Shortly thereafter, they were stuck in traffic, trying to find their way out of the busy city. “You see?” Spin told the others amidst the stop-and-go. “This is why we have floaters, flyers and hoppers. You hardly ever have a traffic jam when you can just change level and keep moving.”

“I recall some particularly heavy traffic the first time we were in Horalia,” Twist reminded him.

“And it was slow going for a while in Sonatrie last year too,” Pulac-pa added.

“The Horalians are almost as backwards about flying cars as the Granomen,” Spin replied. “They have floaters but very few hoppers so you can’t actually leave the road system. They do have flyers though, we just did not have one at the time. The streets in Sonatrie were like that because vertical travel is not allowed there either.”

“It only took a few idiots flying into buildings, killing not only themselves, but innocents inside and around the building before it was decided that no flying was allowed inside city limits,” Seastar pointed out. “I find it a bit scary to watch people flying recklessly all over Randona.”

“They aren’t flying recklessly,” Spin argued, “Their cars follow carefully delineated travel lanes inside the city. You just can’t see those lane markers with the naked eye so it looks a bit random.”

“If you say so,” Seastar told him. “I’d rather walk, which at the moment, might get us to Quirna faster.

“I didn’t plan to arrive at the start of rush hour,” Spin grumbled some more. “We’re going to have to drive all night to get to the capital.”

“I have been thinking about that, dear,” Twist told him. “We’ve been awake since dawn and it’s been a long day. For safety’s sake, I think we’ll have to stop somewhere along the way.”

“Maybe,” Spin allowed, “but I’d like to put a few hours between us and Endertone first.”

“That suits me,” Twist agreed. “Why don’t we visit Fireiron? Her home isn’t too far out of our way from here and there are a few things I would like to discuss with her. It’s been a long time, you know.”

“Are you sure?” Spin pressed. “We’re already a week late.”

“We are, but I think this is very important too.”

Spin was fairly certain he knew why Twist wanted to talk to Fireiron. Wizard Fireiron was actually the Goddess Methis who had been a good friend and mentor to them over the years. Twist might have been trying to make this sound like a casual visit, but Spin was certain she was going to ask questions about the Tzali and the war after the others had gone to bed. “You could always just call her on the Comm, you know.”

“It’s not the same,” Twist retorted. “Besides, how do you think she’ll feel when she learns we were in the neighborhood and didn’t stop in.”

“Given the circumstance, I am sure she’ll forgive us,” Spin replied.

“Actually, I wouldn’t mind seeing Fireiron again,” Pulac-pa told him.

“And I’ve never even met her,” Seastar added.

“Oh, all right,” Spin surrendered, “but we’ll have to be up and gone by dawn. Understand? No long, drawn-out breakfasts and no getting lost in her private library.”

“She has a library?” Seastar asked curiously.

“You have no idea!” Twist laughed.

Three

There was a light on in the garage/workshop next to Methis’ home when they arrived. There was also a lot of banging, clanking and swearing escaping from the workshop along with the light. When they peeked in through the door, they saw a Granomish woman whose chalk-white face was badly smudged with some sort of black dust. She was wearing a leather apron and long-sleeved, heat-resistant gloves over her other clothing. In one hand she held a hammer and in the other she had a pair of tongs holding a red-hot piece of steel. She continued swearing at the piece of metal as she put it back into the coal fire of a forge.

“What are you doing?” Seastar blurted.

“You’re here already?” Fireiron asked, then coughed as though some dust had gotten into her lungs. “I mean, what are you all doing here of all places?”

Nice save! Twist kept the thought to herself. “We were in the neighborhood and thought we could just stop in for a bit. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Dear, you’re always welcome here,” Fireiron replied. “You just surprised me is all.”

“But what is it you’re doing?” Seastar asked again.

“Wizard Fireiron,” Twist handled the introduction, “This is Apprentice Seastar although you might recall that I have mentioned her by her birth name, Marliese Fonterre.”

“Well, hello, Seastar!” Fireiron enthused. “I have heard a lot of about you. What am I doing? Darned if I know. It’s been a cen… uh… forever since I tried using the forge and I guess I’ve lost my touch.”

“What were you trying to make, though?” Seastar pressed. “A horseshoe?”

“A horseshoe?” Fireiron laughed. “Whatever for? I don’t have a horse. No, dear, I was just trying to build a spit. You know for cooking over an open fire? I have some family coming over in a few days and thought it might be fun to roast half a lamb in an old-fashioned manner. I suppose I could just use any steel rod, but I thought it might be showy to twist that square piece up a bit. I might be using the wrong sort of steel though. It keeps breaking when I try to do much with it. I know I ought to just find a piece of iron to work with, but this is what I found lying around. Well, I can try again tomorrow. Let’s go inside. Are you hungry?”

“Oh!” Twist gasped. “I should call Mila and let her know we’re here. The last time I spoke to her was just before the Marquesse of Nanir left Castelon.”

“Would you like to use my Comm?” Fireiron offered.

Twist was about to reply that she had one of her own, but realized that Methis’ would be totally secure and untraceable. “Yes, please, if you don’t mind.”

Fireiron excused herself for a few minutes, “Just want to take a quick shower, dears,” she explained. “Artifice should be home any minute.”

Meanwhile Twist was talking to Mila, “We’re at Methis’ Forge,” she told the commandant of Oceanvine’s Girls. Methis’ Comm looked like something from two centuries earlier. It had no video or TriVee screen and instead featured an antique handset that still attached to the base with a pig-tail cable. Twist knew Methis could communicate via Vid when she wanted to, but perhaps she did it by magic.

“Interesting place to be,” Mila commented. “How did you end up there.”

“Our ship landed in Endertone, so we had to rent a car,” Twist explained.

“You should have called from Endertone,” Mila told her. “I would have sent a jet to pick you up. There’s not a lot of time left. His Majesty could die at any time and we need you and Spinnaker here.”

“We’re just resting for a few hours,” Twist explained. “We’ll be on our way at dawn and should be in Querna by nightfall at the latest.”

“That will have to do,” Mila admitted. “Come directly to the Wurra when you arrive. The guards will know to expect you and will let you right in. Hurry, Twist!”

“We will, Mila,” Twist promised. “We will.”

“Well, what have we here?” a deep masculine voice asked as Twist hung up the Comm. “I wasn’t expecting company, Twist. It’s good to see you.” Twist turned to see a tall man who looked more like a human than an Orent or a Granom, but his skin had a distinctly grayish tone to it that set him apart, although most people overlooked his unusual skin color.

“Artifice!” Twist greeted the god, Aritos, by the mage name he had used around the Olen School, although she recalled he more frequently used the name “Artemus Face,” from an office in Midon where he sometimes worked as a marriage counsellor. She hugged him as an old friend before explaining they were on their way to Quirna but stopped to visit and rest for a bit.

“You’re always welcome here,” Aritos told her quietly, “but I know you have no time to waste.”

“We would have had to stop anyway,” Twist explained. “It’s been a very long day, and I really had to talk to Methis.”

“Well that is your call to make,” Artitos admitted. “You know we have to stay uninvolved.”

“But you can still advise Spin and me, right?” Twist asked.

“We can,” the god nodded, “although I am not sure what’s left we have not already told you.”

“Well, we’ll find out after the others have gone to bed.”

It was another two hours before Twist could continue the conversation. After they had all gone to sleep, even Spin, she crept out of bed and stole silently downstairs to where Methis was seated, as usual in a wide comfortable chair, reading a book. “Anything good” Twist asked.

“Nothing I can’t put down for a millennium or two,” Methis chuckled. “So tell Me now, what was so important that you had to stop in and chat?”

“I’ve missed our discussions,” Twist admitted. “It’s been nearly two years since You were in Olen, you know.”

“I know,” Methis admitted. “There were too many students and some faculty members who were starting to suspect I was not your average Granom. Your mother was one of them. Normally I would not worry about that sort of thing. The people who figure out who I am are never the sort to go blabbing about it in public, but what with our treaty with the gods of Tzal, I prefer not to be put in a position where I have to say, ‘No,’ when someone asks for help.”

“Where’s Aritos?” Twist asked, looking around.

“Out in the forge,” Methis laughed lightly. “He got the notion He could make the spit and a device to turn it for me. Well, perhaps He can. I certainly did not do so well today.”

“You could have just created it, you know,” Twist reminded Her.

“True,” She admitted, “and it would have worked perfectly even if it was physically incapable of making a full unobstructed turn. I suspect that may even be how Aritos does it eventually, or not. But I would have considered it cheating. I really do prefer to create with my hands and not by magic, when I can.” They were both quiet for a few minutes as Twist tried to figure out how to ask her next question, but Methis answered it without being asked. “The only way I can help you at this time is to advise. What do you want to know?”

“Everything!” Twist sighed.

“Heh!” Methis chuckled. “Me too. Try again.”

“All right,” Twist nodded. “What really is stopping you from interfering?”

“A number of things,” Methis replied. “It would be dishonorable to break the treaty we have with the Tzali gods. Even if that did not stop me, they outnumber us badly and one of them is here to observe, making sure we do not violate the agreement. Neither side can interfere; this conflict is solely between the people of Maiyim and the Ferslakach Fleet.”

“Just the Fleet?” Twist asked. “Not the entire world of Tzal?”

“The entire world of Tzal is not here,” Methis pointed out, “but yes, the treaty only applies to what happens on Maiyim and in this system. Why? Have you suddenly built an interstellar ship while I wasn’t watching?”

“No,” Twist laughed without much humor. “I’m just trying to fully understand the terms.”

“I think you have a firm grasp on the terms of that agreement,” Methis assured her. “The gods of Tzal know that a conflict between Us and Them could well result in the destruction of both worlds, so we are leaving it up to our mortal counterparts to resolve this for us. Don’t worry. I have taught you and Spin everything you need to know; as much as any one wizard has ever known, really.”

“But not everything you know,” Twist countered.

“I might if there were enough time in your life to do so, but you do not need to know everything I know, Twist. You know more than enough to defend Maiyim right now. And I am certain there are things you know, things you can do, that I cannot.”

“Such as?” Twist asked.

“You tell me!” Methis laughed. “If I knew what it was, I could probably figure it out for myself. Each person can do something better than any other. The difference is in our minds, you know. We both know all the basics. What we can do with them depends on what we can think of.”

“But will I think of the right thing at the right time?” Twist worried.

“You have my complete confidence, dear,” Methis replied, “and really, stop worrying about that. Know that I and all the gods are watching, and I am keeping an especially close eye on you, Spin and your students.”

“We didn’t really surprise you this afternoon, did we?” Twist asked sheepishly.

“Only mildly surprised me,” Methis admitted. “I knew you were in the area. Like I said, I have been watching, but I did not expect you to stop in when I know how important it is to get to Querna before the king dies. That is a matter that concerns us all, you know, but the biggest concern of the gods is the whereabouts of the Tzali diety.”

“What?” Twist was shocked. “You don’t know where He or She is?”

“No,” Methis shook her head, “but I doubt He or She knows where we are either, not all of us anyway, although our identities are not a secret. We want to know because, to tell the truth, we do not entirely trust the Tzali gods. We made a deal and we will honor it so long as the gods of Tzal do. We just want to be certain they are keeping to their side of it.

“For now, however, you really must hurry to Querna. It is almost too late,” Methis continued. “Earlier this evening, a palace spokesman admitted Ksaveras is near death. In the past that might well have been an admission that he is already dead, but they don’t know what to do next, but I know he still lives for now.”

“The Tzali base on Robander’s Island?” Twist began to ask.

“Fully operational,” Methis confirmed. “That should not be news to anyone either. The Tzali were clever when we assaulted that base a year ago. They set off some relatively harmless explosions near but not precisely over their real base and played dead. However, most of the base remained intact under the ice and snow. Since then, they have rebuilt and expanded. Also, forces from the asteroid are joining the ones that moved to Robander’s from Midbar.”

“Some of that is news to me. We knew there was some sort of installation there,” Twist replied, “but from what I was told it was much smaller than the asteroid base.”

“The Tzali were clever,” Methis admitted again, “and have initiated as many attacks from Robanders as they have been from the Asteroid. For now, though, you should get some sleep. I’ll make sure you’re all fed and on the road before sunrise.”

Methis was as good as her word. The mages were up and alert an hour before dawn, even Slipstream, who had developed a nasty reputation among her fellow students before she had finished her second cup of coffee. Twist suspected Methis had cast a spell of some sort to make them so alert, but so long as they got out the door on time, she was not going to question it.

The breakfast would have been considered old-fashioned over two centuries earlier. Twist had to admit she had never actually seen such a spread that included waffles with choices of fresh-churned butter, whipped cream, strawberries and maple syrup, stacks of rye toast with more butter and several jams, scones, bacon, sausage, cheese and onion omelets, home fries, corned beef hash and a variety of sauces and gravies, depending on one’s tastes. When she realized that Methis had served real butter and cheese and not the modern, cholesterol-free substitutes, she could only ask. “Is this how you start every day, Fireiron?”

“Would you rather have something else?” Methis replied, grinning. Then she shrugged and answered, “Humor an old woman if her tastes seem a bit archaic, dear. And no, I generally just start off with a slice of toast and a cup of tea or coffee, but I thought I might as well send you all off in style. You’re going to have to stay on the highway if you expect to get to Querna before dark and that means the chance to eat well is slim.”

“I certainly won’t stay slim eating like this,” Slipstream laughed, “But this is good. Is this real cream in my coffee?”

“I never could abide by the genetically modified product,” Fireiron explained. “Oh sure it’s healthier for you and it almost tastes right, but there is a difference in texture the modified products just don’t have.”

“I think I can feel my arteries hardening even as I look at all this,” Spin laughed.

“One meal like this will not harm you,” Fireiron told him. “I’m surprised you haven’t had more like this from Maiyim Bourne.”

“It would harm me,” Pulac-pa laughed, “Fortunately, I see you were shopping at the local Tzalish delicatessen for me. This certainly tastes like the real thing, and I’m glad for that!”

“I suspect Maiyim’s food box serves up modern nutrition that tastes like the real thing,” Spin conjectured. “To tell the truth, I never thought about it.”

“Something I shall have to discuss with Maiyim when I next get the chance,” Fireiron replied. “Well, finish up or take a doggie bag if you like. I think you need to get back on the road.”

They all agreed and while they did not rush through the rest of the meal, they intentionally did not linger either, but when they went to load up the car, one of their number was missing. “Where’s Seastar?” Twist asked. “Was she even at breakfast?”

“She ate before you lot were fully awake,” Fireiron informed them. “Last I saw, she was in the workshop with Artifice.”

“I’ll get her,” Slipstream volunteered.

“No,” Twist shook her head, “you get in the car. I’ll go fetch her back.”

“Uh uh!” Spin stopped her. “You’re annoyed that she wandered off and I’m not sure that’s justified this time. I’ll get her.”

Before Twist could argue about it, he trotted across the yard to the workshop, noting to himself that on any other house he would have called it the garage. When he got there, he was surprised to see the inside of the workshop looked like the Great Desert of Elisto with its rust-red sands. Seastar was sitting several feet off the ground with her legs crossed as though she was still sitting in a chair. Her gold coin was spinning and orbiting her head and she was smiling beatifically while Aritos sat on a nearby pile of sand watching her closely.

Spin was about to call Seastar’s name, but stopped himself and examined the scene magically. The desert scene, was an illusion as he expected, but it was just the outward projection of a world Seastar was creating in her own mind. Spin suddenly realized that Aritos was coaching her in her first lesson that would eventually prepare her to use creation magic. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Spin whispered to Aritos. “I mean creation magic at her stage of development?”

“What?” Aritos asked, visibly startled. “Oh no, that’s not the goal here although I know this exercise could be used toward that end as well. No. This is an exercise in self-discipline and it was as much for you as it is for her. It will help her focus and, more to the point, it will help her to ignore the distractions of unpleasant memories. She still has problems, you know, because of her early exposure to my son.”

“I thought she had put those behind her,” Spin replied.

“She hides it well,” Aritos replied, “and she is well clear of any demonic influence, but she still has nightmares sometimes. This will help her to banish them completely. Seastar,” He raised his voice ever so slightly, “time to wake up.”

“I’m not asleep,” Seastar laughed.

“You were, but it was a special sort of sleep,” Artifice told her. “In time you might be able to use it to get some much needed rest when nothing else works, but for now I don’t want you to practice this without Spinnaker there to guide you.”

“All right,” Seastar responded, still sitting on air.

“And I suppose it is time to walk rather than float,” Spin added.

“Oh yeah,” Seastar laughed. She stretched out her legs and settled to the ground. “I should clean up too.” A moment later the illusion of the desert vanished although her coin continued to spin around her head. “Thank you, Artifice,” she told him, emphasizing her words with a warm hug. “That was a great lesson. I hope I can come back for more sometime.”

“Whenever you like, dear,” Artifice told her.

“Spin!” they heard Twist’s voice shouting from the car. “What are you doing in there? It’s starting to get light.”

“Coming!” Spin called back. “Well, thanks for the hospitality and for Seastar’s lesson. I’ll have to see if you taught her something I don’t know yet.”

“If I did, it was something she figured out for herself,” Aritos laughed as he walked them to the car.

Seastar got into the back next to Slipstream and Spin immediately heard the Granom exclaim, “Ow! Marliese, put that coin away!”

“Sorry,” Seastar replied, only partially able to stifle a giggle.

The trip from Methis’ Forge to Querna was less than uneventful. It was dull. Spin and Twist took turns driving for the first four hours, then Pulac-pa got behind the wheel and that woke everyone up. “Pulac, you have to slow down or we’ll get pulled over,” Spin told him.

“Only if they catch us,” Pulac-pa replied.

“They’ll catch us,” Spin assured him. “You’ve already had two warnings. That’s what those flashing lights and beeps are. Now slow down to the speed limit. Honestly I’m surprised you only got warnings.”

“But, Spin,” Pulac-pa complained as he eased off on the accelerator, “only one hundred miles per hour? I’m sure this thing can do twice that.”

“It’s not a jet or a spacecraft,” Spin explained, and Granom has laws about how fast you can drive.

“Fah!” Pulac-pa grumbled. “I was just trying to make this trip a little more interesting.”

“It’s interesting enough already, Leadfoot,” Slipstream replied acidly from the back seat. “The ride isn’t so smooth at relativistic speeds.”

Methis’ predictions about the quality of food along the highway proved accurate as well and none of them ate more than enough to keep their bellies from grumbling or stopped for comfort breaks any more frequently than absolutely necessary.

Finally, Spin was driving again as they approached the capital city, Querna. At first they were still on the wide, divided highway, driving rapidly through the suburbs of the large, sprawling city. Slipstream remarked how all the buildings here were built with wood.

“That’s not too surprising,” Twist told her. “There’s no shortage of lumber in Granom. Most of the buildings on Olen Campus, for that matter, are wooden too as is the county manor.”

“Sure, but Olen is a small town,” Slipstream shrugged. “I expect that sort of rustic architecture.”

“You must have had your eyes shut on the way to Randona then” Spin replied. “Most of the dwellings in the suburbs there are wooden too. It’s been fashionable to build them that way these past two decades or so. It’s like Twist said, lumber isn’t as expensive as it is on the Isle of Fire. While some homes are faced in brick and stone, most folks like wood siding. Anyway, you’ll see more stone, bricks and concrete, not to mention glass and steel, when we reach the center of the city. There are still some sections of town that were built up three or four centuries ago with pink granite blocks and with magically created blocks of smoky quartz as cap stones. I’m told at one time the whole city looked like that, but styles change. See? We’re coming into the outer business district now.”

“We need to take the next exit,’ Spin,” Twist told him. “That will put us on Center Street which goes past the University. After that we will need to turn on…”

“Nevermind,” Spin stopped her. “I trust your navigation. “Just tell me as we get closer to the turns. Not much traffic on the streets tonight,” he noticed once they were off the highway. There had been clumps of traffic all the way across the island, but now that they were in an actual city, there only seemed to be a few people out on the streets, and half of them were pedestrians.

“Do you think the king has died already?” Seastar asked as they were just passing a hodgepodge of wildly different buildings that Twist had identified as Querna University.

“I should think we would have heard,” Twist told her, “either on the radio or else Freddy or, more likely, Maiyim would have called to tell us. It is getting dark. Maybe it’s just dinner time.” Just then a strange and eerie sound filled the air as temple bells began to ring from up ahead. At first there was only one distant bell but after a few minutes bells were ringing all over the city.

“Why do those bells sound so strange?” Pulac-pa asked.

“Oh dear,” Twist sighed.

“The clappers have been wrapped in soft leather,” Slipstream explained. “It’s a Granomish custom when one of the royalty has died. I’m afraid we’re too late. His Royal Majesty Ksaveras XVII is dead and Her Royal Highness is still unmarried.”

Four

They arrived at one of the side gates to the Wurra Palace, a gate generally used by the staff a few minutes later. “Names, sir?” the guard on duty asked stiffly as though no one could be important enough to arrive at the palace just now to suit him.

“Masters Spinnaker and Islandtwist,” Spin replied. “In the back are Journeywoman Slipstream, Marliese Fonterre of Elisto and Pulac-pa, late of Tzal.”

“Spinnaker, Islandtwist and party,” the guard recited as he looked down his list. “Very good, sir. Her Royal Highness is expecting you. Please drive up to the door. Someone will take care of the car for you.”

“Thank you,” Spin replied and drove on and around to what was the outside door of the East Wing of the palace.

Unlike the palace in Randona, the Wurra was not set apart from the rest of the city by acres of parkland although it did boast a large garden on its south side where two wings stretched out from the front of the complex where the public sections of the palace were. The mages were assured their bags would be waiting for them in the Garden Wing, the more easterly of the two wings that enclosed the actual garden. After Spin arranged for the rental car to be returned to the agency, they entered the palace and were immediately greeted by Pricess Ilyana.

The princess was slightly thinner and taller than Slipstream or any other average Granom. Light bone structure ran in her line as did lighter than usual hair color, but compared to her human visitors, she was short and blocky looking. Her chalk white skin, however was flawless and very healthy looking for a Granom and she was able to look Pulac-pa in the eye, even if she did look like she could tear him apart with her bare hands if she were so inclined.

“Cousins! Come in, come in!” she told them briskly, with an obviously forced smile. Lyudmila Garensk, Commandant of Oceanvine’s Girls, the elite guard unit tasks with the protection of female Granomish Royalty stood directly behind the Princess with her second-in-command, Captain Dusya Noff. Twist and Spin had worked closely some years earlier with both Mila and Dusya, when Ksaveras had sent Ilyana off on a good will tour. “I am so glad you are here. There is so much to do before Grandfather dies.”

“He’s still alive?” Twist asked, surprised. “But the bells…” she abruptly cut herself off when she caught a minute shake of the head from Mila.

“Yes, yes,” Ilyana nodded, “So much to do. Please come with me. She led them down a long hallway toward the front of the palace and eventually into a small conference room with a big table where several others had been waiting. They all got to their feet as Ilyana entered, but she cut them off, “Yes, yes. I appreciate the courtesy, but we don’t have the time. Everyone sit.”

Ilyana stepped briskly to the head of the table and, not waiting for someone to pull a chair out for her, although several tried, she plunked herself down and started talking. The others followed her example, sitting even as she spoke to them. “You all know my cousins, Lady Islandtwist and Sir Spinnaker? Twist, Spin, I know you have met my Uncle Ilya.”

“Baron of Marga,” Spin recalled. “A pleasure to see you again, my lord.” Baron Ilya nodded in return.

“I’m not sure you have met the other close members of my family and I’ll be glad to introduce you all formally later this evening,” Ilyana continued. “However, it is appropriate and necessary that you formally meet and approve of my fiancé, Lord Alexai,” She indicated a robust-looking Granom with almost black hair and handsome features. “There, that’s done,” Ilyana noted as though checking an item off her list. “Now, the officiating priest and priestess.” She looked down the table and spotted the people she wanted. “Father Trenn and Mother Stacia, I believe with the arrival of my human cousins we have the necessary quorum for my wedding party.”

“Your Royal Highness,” Father Trenn shook his head, “I am afraid you may have miscounted. Even with their arrival we are still one family member short.”

“I thought of that,” Ilyana admitted. “We have already decided to play loose with timing tonight, right? I believe the phrasing we agreed on was that I was married in the same hour as Grandfather’s passing. That, if we hurry, will be true as far as it goes. The marriage license was duly processed yesterday and will be valid so long as the ceremony is anytime this week. Correct?” There were nods around the table. “Well, if we’re going to imply that grandfather was alive at the time of the wedding, we may as well include him as a witness.”

“But, Your Highness,” Father Trenn objected. “His Royal Majesty is no longer with us and even if he were, he would be in no condition to leave his bed.”

“Which is why the ceremony must be performed at his bedside,” Ilyana replied firmly, betraying only a slight amount of the stress she was under.

“Princess!” Father Trenn objected, “it is hardly appropriate for you to be married beside the dead king. In fact I would go so far as to say it is sacrilegious in the extreme. People have been excommunicated for less.”

“I believe you are over-reacting, Father,” Mother Stacia told him. “You know it is commonly believed that the spirit remains with the body until the actual funeral and interment.”

“That has never been officially accepted by the Church,” the High Priest of Gran replied.

“Nor has it been officially repudiated,” the High Priestess of Querna retorted. “It is a common belief of the people and that should serve our purposes here.”

“But to hold a royal wedding in the presence of a corpse,” Trenn objected.

“It’s a bit macabre for my taste,” Stacia shrugged, “but do you really want to leave the throne open to the likes of Khordel? Officially we are doing this just before the king died and someone started ringing those bells. Who ordered that, anyway?”

“I’m afraid I did,” Trenn admitted. “I was with His Majesty when he died and ordered it without thinking. I am sorry, Princess.”

“Well, you can do penance by marrying Alexai and me,” Ilyana told him. She checked her watch. “We had better hurry.” She got to her feet and told the others, “Follow me. Twist, walk with me, please.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” Twist responded.

“Ilyan…” Ilyana started to correct her and then stopped, “No, you are right. We may be nearly all family, however distant, but even in private this is a formal occasion. I am sorry, though, to have had to rush you through this without even the chance to catch your breath.”

“I just wish we had managed to get here last week as planned,” Twist admitted. Privately she berated herself for stopping overnight to see Methis and that she had not thought to have Mila send a plane to pick them up in Endertone. The few hours would have made all the difference. “Though I must say when you told us the king was not yet dead…”

“That I was distraught and out of my mind with grief?” Ilyana asked. “In denial? Oh, if only I had that luxury!” They started climbing a long flight of stairs. “And if only those bells hadn’t started ringing when they did,” she added.

“Have them rung again, just after the ceremony,” Spin suggested. “When the reporters ask, you can say the first time was to announce your marriage, and that the presence of the leather wrapping on the clappers was a mistake on the part of someone in the Palace at the time.”

“True enough,” Ilyana admitted. “Yes, we’ve had a few false alarms the last few years. Father Trenn, did you hear that?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Trenn agreed. “I will have the death bells rung again.”

“Ilyana,” Twist told her cousin, “you forgot to ask, but for the record I do approve.”

“Of what?” Ilyana asked. “The bells?”

“No,” Twist shook her head. “Of your fiancé. You said it was necessary for Spin and me to approve. We do.”

Ilyana laughed mirthlessly. “I have been cutting corners today, haven’t I? Well, thank you.” They reached the door to the royal chambers where Ilyana paused for just a moment. She took a deep breath and said, “Let’s get this over with.”

The windows of Ksaveras’ bedroom had been left wide open and incense was burning in several holders but, even so, the smell of disease and death was strong there. “It was a wasting disease,” Dusya told Spin in a whisper when she noticed him and some others turning green. “I should have thought to prepare you.”

“I doubt knowing it would have helped,” Spin replied.

Princess Ilyana bowed deeply to the body of her grandfather and said formally, “Grandfather, with your approval I am here to marry Lord Alexai.” From outside they heard, as if on cue, the cry of a hawk. Ilyana looked at the others and remarked, “I’ll take that as a ‘Yes.’” She moved next to Alexai, took his hand and turned to face the high priest and priestess. “Father Trenn?”

The High Priest began reciting a hymn and after a moment several in the room joined him. Then Mother Stacia began a long and involved blessing. Together they administered the vows, administered two more blessings and another hymn before the two clerics declared that Ilyana and Alexai were married at last.

After a brief kiss, Ilyana and Alexai then turned toward the body of Ksaveras and bowed once more before processing out of the room. Then the priest and priestess also bowed to the king and followed as did each of the other attendees, leaving Pulac-pa, Slipstream and Seastar last in line.

“Is any of this normal for Maiyimite weddings?” Pulac-pa asked quietly as they finally left the royal bedchamber.

Seastar laughed, despite the solemnity of the occasion, “No. I can honestly say that there has probably never been a wedding ceremony like this one. It’s going to disappoint royal watchers all over the world though. Such weddings are usually broadcast publically.”

“They’ll just have to live with the disappointment,” Slipstream commented. “Perhaps there is a royal court reporter or something like that to describe the ceremony as it should have been.”

“But never as it actually happened?” Pulac-pa asked.

“No, it would possibly invalidate the wedding and Prince Alexai’s claim to the throne,” Seastar explained. “So someone will write this all up in a manner that is both believable and leaves no question of legitimacy, at least until after the Parliament ratifies the succession. After that, well, it probably won’t matter, but I know I have no intention of blabbing about it. Do you?”

“Not at all,” Pulac-pa admitted. “It would be a betrayal of a close and trusted ally.”

“And that is how history comes to be,” Slipstream added ironically.

Five

Once the actual ceremony was over, a light dinner was served in the dining hall. The guests ate quietly at first, no one knowing what to say or how to act after the extraordinary events of the day.

“Not exactly the way I imagined my wedding day,” Ilyana sighed in comment to Twist as they sat together at the high board. “Although I must say it is probably without precedent.”

“Perhaps not,” Twist replied. “I seem to recall that one of the ancient kings of Emmine, assumed the crown by killing his predecessor and forcing the queen to marry him on the spot with the still cooling body nearby. Taolyn, I think his name was. Of course the circumstance and reasons this time were completely different.”

“Let’s just hope I am not a trend setter,” Ilyana replied flatly. She held her serious expression for several seconds and then suddenly started laughing. Everyone in the hall stopped what they were doing and stared on Ilyana. Noticing the shock on their faces only made her laugh even more until Alexai edged his chair closer to her and put a comforting arm around her. She buried her face against his shoulder, but continued to laugh.

Finally, Ilyana took a deep breath and sat up again. “Wow!” she breathed. “Had someone told me I’d be laughing on the night Grandfather died I would never have believed them.”

“Are you all right, dear?” Alexai asked her softly.

“I am fine,” Ilyana assured him. “I suddenly feel really good, in fact. I think the stress of the past couple of years finally caught up to me. Funny how that sort of thing relieves itself sometimes, isn’t it? Oh dear, you must have thought I had gone insane. Wouldn’t that have been one for the history books?”

“I was worried you might have been hysterical,” Alexai admitted.

“Technically, for a minute or two, I think I was” Ilyana admitted.

“Closer to five minutes,” Spin told her. “I’m surprised you managed to breathe.”

Ilyana smiled. It was a smile quite unlike one they had ever seen on her face. To Spin and Twist, the princess had always been an intensely serious woman. Now she seemed entirely relaxed and much younger than she had since their first meeting. “It was a challenge,” she replied with a wink. “That’s fun, but we have a lot of work to do. An official announcement marking grandfather’s death has been issued. We wrote it up over a year ago and have revised it as needed several times since, but there is going to have to be a press conference in the morning and an official claim to the throne by Alexai will have to be sent to Parliament.”

“Surely that will come after the official mourning period,” Twist replied.

“Normally, I would agree,” Ilyana told her, “but in this case we must make sure our wedding is seen as legitimate. That is another matter that is not usually under debate. Royal Weddings are always broadcast, or at least they always have been over the last two centuries. Holy Methis! Even Countess Ksanya… You know, that ancestor of mine who was able to control her null magic field? Well, even her wedding was recorded and seen on the flat vid screens of the time.”

“I’ve heard of her,” Twist admitted, trying to remember if she had told Ilyana that before and decided it did not matter, “but was she really so famous at the time that everyone wanted to watch her wedding?”

“Famous?” Ilyana echoed. “Notorious is closer to the truth. In her case I believe they made it a public wedding in order to quiet rumors going around at the time about her sexual preferences.”

“What?” Twist asked.

“Some of the tabloids of the time,” Ilyana admitted with some distaste, “found her to be a rich source of gossip, especially during her college years. For example, they would take pictures of her hugging a friend and use it as proof of a homosexual or at least a bisexual lifestyle.”

“Who would care?” Twist asked.

“Two centuries ago that was a big thing,” Ilyana shrugged. “An entire political career could be ruined by such accusations and Ksanya, who the Throne already had to acknowledge was the granddaughter of a one-time prostitute, was one of Granom’s more effective ambassadors. She is credited with having a key role in ending the Cold War between Granom and Emmine.”

“Hard to believe anyone would want to discredit her then,” Twist remarked.

“Well, it was her own fault in some ways,” Ilyana admitted. “First of all, when she was in school she made a habit of teasing the tabloids’ cameramen and occasionally posed for shots when she spotted them. That had ended, of course, by the time she got caught up in the Counter Revolution, but reputations are hard to clean up once they’ve been stained. And secondly, I think she really was bisexual. It’s no one’s business but her own, I suppose, but if you are going to fool around, knowing that someone is watching, you are bound to get caught once in a while.

“But all that was from some pictures taken while she was still in school?” Twist asked.

“Oh yes,” Ilyana nodded. “We all grow up in time and members of the Royal Family have learned we have to grow up sooner than most.”

“I wish the Emmine Royal Family had learned that lesson,” Twist commented. “Othon had quite the reputation as Crown Prince.”

“I remember,” Ilyana laughed. “Back when we were both teenagers, he actually came on to me during a state visit with his father.”

“Really?” Twist laughed. “I never realized he was so… uh…”

“Indiscriminate?” Ilyana prompted him.

“Not quite the word I was looking for,” Twist replied, blushing a bit.

“I’m sure it was curiosity more than anything else,” Ilyana told her.

“What was…” uh… did…? I’m not sure what I am asking.”

“It was like kissing your brother,” Ilyana told her with a smile. “We may be of closely related species, but humans and Granomen are entirely different species. There is no real sexual attraction between two healthy individuals of the two species. The same goes for the Orenta.”

“I knew that,” Twist admitted. “I guess I was just surprised that Othon had experimented.”

“We both did,” Ilyana admitted freely. “We were children on the verge of adulthood, it was natural to experiment, but as I say, it only took one kiss to see it was going nowhere. There was a study I read back in college that looked into sexual attraction or the lack of such between members of different sentient species. The argument is still not entirely accepted, but the authors claimed it was a matter of different pheromones. Human pheromones are a turn-off for Granomen and vice versa. I suppose that in a world population like ours there might be exceptions, but they are few and far between.

“I know a human-Granomish couple in Randona,” Twist told her, “but, as you say, it is not really a sexual relationship. They tell me they are just comfortable living together.”

“Humans and Granomen are quite compatible intellectually,” Ilyana noted. “That sort of thing develops more often between humans and Granomen than between either of us and Orenta, but only by twenty percent or so.”

“Some of that must be cultural,” Twist replied. “I know I have always gotten along with Merintans easily. And one of my ancestors was roommates with a Merintan woman for years.”

“Ah, the Merinta,” Ilyana breathed. “I have often wondered if their imposed isolation from the rest of Bellinen has made them a significantly different genetic population. I wonder if anyone has ever looked into that.”

“I hope not,” Twist told her.

“No?”

“The Orenta of Bellinen discriminate against the Merinta too much already,” Twist responded. “I would hate to give them scientific reason to do it.”

“Good point,” Ilyana admitted, “and I must admit I enjoyed working closely with Manu Tintawao while I was representing Granom in the Maiyim Alliance. We’ve strayed. I need to consider what to say at the press conference.”

“As the only member of His Majesty’s immediate family,” Twist advised, “I doubt you would be expected to attend, never mind speak. Wouldn’t that sort of thing come down to some official Palace spokesperson?”

“When it has come to Grandfather’s health and similar matters relating to the Crown,” Ilyana responded, “That has been me more often than anyone else. Grandfather insisted because my husband would be the next king. He wanted to make sure there was a smooth transition. Damn it! We should have married two years ago but we kept bowing to propriety.”

“So you didn’t,” Twist told her. “I am not sure how that was seen domestically, but it was respected internationally. Now I suspect all you can do is to present your wedding as an accomplished fact and hope the public buys it.”

“I’m not worried about the public,” Ilyana told her. “The Royal Family has been popular since the Counter Revolution and our recent approval ratings have been even higher than just following that war. The public might raise a collective eyebrow, but I doubt they will disbelieve whatever story we present. I am more worried about Parliament.

“Lord Khordel considers himself to be the primary contender for the Crown and if he convinces enough Lords that Alexai is not the legitimate heir, then the Crown could well fall to the Sons and Daughters of Maiyim.”

“I thought he was not the most closely related relative,” Twist commented.

“He isn’t,” Ilyana admitted. “Not by a long shot! But over the last few years anyone with a more legitimate claim had either died or taken himself out of consideration. Some deaths were from old age, of course, and some of the men who recused themselves truly did not desire the Crown, but I know full well that many were bullied by threats against them and their families. You can ask Mila about some of the more suspicious deaths, if you really want the details. There are too many to be coincidental. We’ve had to increase security here at the Wurra just in case someone decided to kill Alexai or me before we could get married. That’s another reason we kept putting the ceremony off.

“Oh, is dinner over already?” Ilyana suddenly noticed that only she and Twist were still sitting at the table.

“I don’t recall a dessert course,” Twist commented, “but perhaps I missed it too.”

“Oh, I thought you knew,” Ilyana told her. “It is customary to forego sweets during the mourning period until after the funeral. There will be no dessert for a week. Can’t say I’m in much of a mood to eat for that matter.”

Twist noticed Ilyana had barely touched her meal. “I can see that,” she responded. “Shouldn’t the others have waited until you got out of your seat, though?”

“Perhaps,” Ilyana considered, “but probably not. Everyone here knows Alexai is the next king, pending Parliamentary approval, which I do think we have. Khordel has a strong faction supporting his claim, but the real conservatives among the Lords should accept Alexai if only because, as my husband, he would be the traditional heir in a case like this. Of course, we have not had a case like this since Ksaveras IV, who was actually a first cousin who married the eldest princess.

“Anyway,” Ilyana went on, “we all know Alexai will be Ksaveras XIX, so it is only natural that the court, and especially all those who support him will defer to him as though he were already acclaimed by Parliament. Properly speaking, we both should have risen with him.”

“Actually, not everyone got up at once,” Spin, who had been standing nearby and talking to Alexai and Pulac-pa told them. “Everyone was confused at first, but after a minute or two I think they decided you two were too deep into your conversation to be interrupted.”

“Well, they should start looking toward Alexai for such cues now anyway,” Ilyana decided. “Well, we need to start planning for tomorrow’s conference.”

“Actually, my dearest,” Alexai told her, “We have another certain appointment we absolutely must honor before we do anything else.” Ilyana looked at him quizzically so he amplified, “Our wedding night.” Ilyana’s face went slightly translucent in the Granomish version of a blush. “Well, we wouldn’t want to give anyone the wrong idea about our marriage, would we?” Without another word, Alexai led his wife from the hall.

“He is a wicked one, isn’t he?” Twist remarked.

“Yes,” Spin agreed, “He will fit right into the expected mold for a king of the House of Granova.”

“But I thought they had to prepare for the press conference,” Twist told him.

“Her Royal Highness worries too much about that,” Mila told Twist, approaching from her left side. “She has speech writers, just as every public figure does. I know she usually likes to go over the speech in advance, but she will have plenty of opportunity before then. I notice you did not eat much either, Lady Islandtwist. If you get hungry later, do remember the kitchen is always open.”

“I remember that!” Twist smiled, “and maybe later. Right now I can still smell the king’s room and that does nothing for my digestion.

“I don’t think anyone who was in there had a full meal tonight,” Spin commented, “but what can we do to help out now?”

“You have already done all you could, just by being here,” Mila informed them. “Perhaps you might like to retire to your suite? Ladies Slipstream and Seastar already have.”

Just then, a siren could be heard from out in the city. It was followed a few seconds later by another and then another. Soon the air was filled with the cacophony of mechanical screams. “What’s happening?” Twist asked. Mila was already speaking into her Comm implants, holding her hand to her face in a gesture that, in another context, still meant “Call me.”

“Air raid,” Mila reported a minute later. “Everyone will be headed down into the shelters.”

“What about Seastar and Slipstream?” Twist asked worriedly.

“Servants in the Garden Wing will lead them to safety,” Mila assured her, gesturing for Twist, Spin and Pulac-pa to follow her. “We have had far too much practice at that since the Tzali first invaded. Believe me, the servants know exactly what to do and where to guide guests of the Wurra Palace.” She led them out of the dining room and then down into the depths of the palace.

“This is the shelter?” Spin asked at last. “Looks more like the offices for Oceanvine’s Girls.” As they entered the familiar locale, women were busy at their desks or analyzing screen displays or simply running back and forth between various stations.” Spin and Twist knew from their previous trip to Querna that the mess hall, gymnasium and barracks for the elite squad of Royal Guards were only a few steps away.

“It’s both,” Mila admitted. “We originally took over this section of the basement simply to be near the women we protect, but since the war began it has also been a combined shelter and observation point. Dusya!” she called ahead, “What’s our situation?”

“There was a small squadron of Tzali flyers spotted coming down the length of the Bay of Rhosda,” Dusya explained, “after having dropped out of the sky in the middle of the bay. They made an abrupt turn to the northeast off the coast of Farmist, which was when the alarm was sounded by the Aerospace Force.”

“So it looks like they are headed here?” Mila asked.

“Looks like that was the plan,” Dusya replied. “It was a clumsy attempt by the Tzali from what I have seen so far and the AF has already shot down over half of them.”

“That is an odd attack,” Pulac-pa agreed. “Normally, I would have expected either a daytime attack from directly out of the sun or else they make a straight drive. This sort of circuitous route is not standard procedure. It makes it too easy for ground-based observers to see you coming and report ahead as happened here.”

“They also stayed several thousand feet over sea level,” Dusya told him. “In the past they have always tried to hug the surface, not that it makes it much harder for us to spot them, but a different attack scheme worries me.”

“Me too,” Pulac-pa admitted, “but probably not for the same reasons. The way I see it, they wanted you to see them coming which makes this a suicide mission. I have a hard time believing Ferslakach Fleet is this desperate, at least not yet.”

“But if they are, that could be good news,” Dusya pointed out.

“Not really,” Pulac-pa shook his head. “The last resort in any war is the deployment of nuclear weapons. Neither side has done that yet but if the Fleet gets desperate enough, they may decide that Robander’s Island is enough for them and that they can wait for the radiation to die down.”

“What is the half-life of Tzali nukes?” Spin asked.

“About ten days for most of the fallout,” Pulac-pa replied, “but those bombs also produce stuff that lasts a lot longer. It would be a century at least before any Tzali would try living in the main archipelagos after deploying enough bombs to win the war and life on Robander’s wouldn’t be a picnic either. It’s not like there’s any farmland down there so everything would have to be in heated and artificially lit domes. I suspect malnutrition would be a major problem and they would have to control their population growth for a long time. I have a hard time believing Kenek would order the use of nukes unless someone on Maiyim uses them first, but it also would not surprise me if his war leader disagreed.”

“That would be Wraen?” Dusya asked.

“Very good,” Pulac-pa commended her. “You read the briefings, do you? Well you should, but I’ve had to lecture far too many officers to think everyone does.”

“This is a war of survival,” Dusya replied stiffly. “It is what we do not know about the enemy that endangers us most.”

“True,” Pulac-pa agreed. “Anyway, you are correct. Wraen is the war leader for Ferslakach Pack and she has always bothered me. She’s strong and aggressive and, from what I can tell, not inclined to think in the long term. She’s a good one to have on your side in a pinch, but you need to keep a leash on her the rest of the time, not that it would do much good. If she gets it in her mind that a quick nuclear strike would end the war for Ferslakach, she might shoot first and ask permission after.”

“Is it possible someone might simply have changed the orders that squadron started out with?” Mila asked.

“That’s good thinking,” Pulac-pa told her. “Wish I had come up with that. Yes, I think it’s more likely, this squadron started out with one mission and was given another halfway through. They might have been headed for this Farmist place and then been ordered to attack Querna. That would account for the odd attack pattern and fit into the way things are usually done.”

“Only four attackers left,” Dusya told them a minute later, “and the AF reports they are breaking off and heading back into space.”

“Keep an eye on them until we’re sure they aren’t coming here and then sound the all-clear,” Mila ordered, sounding relieved. “After that, stand down from battle stations and if it is not your shift, get some rest. I’ll see everyone at breakfast.

Six

“Thank you for coming this morning,” Princess Ilyana greeted the international press corp amidst the random soft clicking of still cameras. As she looked around there were over a dozen cameras providing live feeds to their networks, but some held small digital cameras as well. There had been a time when the hand-held camera seemed like it would soon be a thing of the past, but with the advent of comm inplants, they had made a comeback. For this press conference, Alexai was standing directly to her left side. It had been decided that since they were officially announcing their marriage, they should stand at the podium together. “Yesterday marked the passing of one of the greatest men to ever wear the Crown of Gran. The entire kingdom mourns the passing of King Ksaveras XVIII and as is the custom, his body will lie in state in the Granomern for the next week which will be open for anyone who wishes to pay their last respects to a truly great man.”

When Slipstream had first heard that word, she had wondered what a Granomern was. On asking around she had discovered it was the large central temple that had been built on the site where the god Gran and Querna had raised young Methis in the ancient world when the gods still dwelt among mortals. It was also, she discovered one of the few buildings left in the city of Querna that still resembled the Wurra with its pink granite walls and smoky quartz edging. Both complexes had been rebuilt following the Treaty of Carlifa that concluded the war, long ago, with Bellinen.

Two hours earlier, Ilyana and Alexai with the casket between them had led the procession from the Wurra to the Granomern. Those who had been in attendance of the wedding the night before followed behind in the order of their geneological proximity to Ksaveras. Twist and Spin, to their surprise, had walked only four back from the royal couple. Slipstream, Seastar and Pulac-pa also joined the procession, but they were placed at the tail end of the line.

The temple was filled with notables from the nearby parts of Granom. Seastar spotted her father off to one side with the ambassadors from Ellisto, Bellinen and Methiscia. There would be, she knew, people from all over the world for the actual funeral. Once in the grand temple, Father Trenn conducted a memorial service for the king which conducted by anointing all those who had served as his honor guard from the Wurra with some sort of highly scented oil. Slipstream found herself hoping it could be washed off easily as it was not a scent she particularly enjoyed. So far, however, an opportunity had not yet arisen.

“The Granomern will be open around the clock until the funeral,” Ilyana continued. “We are expecting guests from all over to the world to pay their respects over the next week, and I hope that all Granom will honor our guests as they arrive. The full schedule of events will be posted later today. We are still in the process of finalizing them.

“Now as you may have heard, Lord Alexai Trellov and I were married last evening shortly before my grandfather passed,” she continued. A sudden gasp from the reporters and the renewed clicking of cameras indicated that the rumor mill had evidently taken the evening off. Ilyana took a deep breath and plunged on, “It was a small and private ceremony conducted by Father Trenn and Mother Stacia and in the presence of my grandfather as well as a host of other kinsmen and women in keeping with Granomish Royal custom. You will find their names listed in the press packets we handed out to you as you arrived.

“As we were lawfully married in the eyes of both the Church and His Royal Majesty King Ksaveras XVIII, that makes Prince Alexai the clear and only heir to the Crown of Gran. Therefore it is my profound honor and duty to present to you…”

“Excuse me, dearest,” Alexai stopped her. Ilyana stopped abruptly and stared in surprise at her husband as he edged over to stand directly behind the center of the podium, forcing Ilyana to take a slight step to her right. “I believe with all my heart and soul that it is neither right nor proper for me to ascend to the Throne of Granom.” As he said that, the clicking of cameras became more frantic and the men and women working the vid cameras made adjustments that indicted they were zooming in for close-ups.

“I do not believe anyone here is unaware as to how instrumental to the running of this kingdom in a calm and orderly manner my wife has been these past few years,” Alexai continued. “In fact, Her Royal Highness has been regent in all but name. We all accepted the polite fiction that His Royal Majesty still ruled with the same physical and mental vigor he always had and I am happy to report that his mind remained sharp to the very end, but the day-to-day decisions were made and enacted by none other than my beloved, the Princess Ilyana.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is no longer the Age of Faith and it is well past time that we made Granom a truly modern nation,” Alexai went on. “Do you want to know what His Majesty’s last words were?” he asked almost conspiratorially. “He looked lovingly at his granddaughter and said, ‘I leave the realm in your capable hands. The Gods’ blessings on you, Your Majesty.’

“We have always said that the king’s word is law, have we not?” Alexai continued. “It is obvious that his final command for all of us was to accept his granddaughter as his sole heir to not only his estate, but to the Crown. For anyone else to sit on the throne now would be an act of usurpation. So please allow me to be the first to offer my life, my love, my honor and my undying fealty to Her Royal Majesty, Queen Ilyana, Duchess Granova, Beloved of Gran, Querna and Methis, Protector and Defender of all Granom!”

There was a sudden silence in the hall that lasted for only a moment, but in that moment the importance of Alexai’s unprecedented statement rang in the heads of everyone who heard it, both in the hall and across the world where the images and sound of the conference were being broadcast live. In the next moment cameras began to snap frantically again, and the vid cameras closed in on Ilyana’s stunned face. In the same moment, Oceanvine’s Girls stepped forward and bowed as one to the woman they held in the highest esteem.

Shouted questions rose up from the ladies and gentlemen of the Press, but above them all could be heard the exultant voice of Commandant Lyudmila Gorensk. “Hail, my queen!” she shouted. “All hail Ilyana, Queen Regnant of Granom!” The entire corps of Ocenavine’s Girls repeated her words in what was nearly a chant and the Press grew silent once more. From the looks of their faces, Spin knew they were wondering if they ought to be bowing to Ilyana as well.

Ilyana kept her expression carefully neutral and thanked the reporters for coming this morning and apologized for the fact that she would be unavailable for interviews and questions until after the funeral. Then, just as they were starting to realize they had questions to ask, Ilyana, Alexai and the others quickly slipped out of the hall.

Ilyana’s composure lasted just long enough to return to the privacy of the East Wing’s gathering room. “You idiot!” she stormed at Alexai. “All our months of careful planning. Everything we planned and did. Wasted in under a minute!”

“I take it this wasn’t part of the plan?” Pulac-pa remarked.

“The plan was always to get this idiot on the throne!” Ilyana shouted back. “And what does he do? He abdicates before the throne is officially his.”

“You knew I never really wanted to be king, dear,” Alexai told her, “and let’s face the facts. I really would have been an idiot not to keep you in your role as regent. This way you will rule Granom without subterfuge.”

“And now that it has been openly stated that you were regent,” Twist started to add.

“Once again, by him,” Ilyana pointed at her husband.

“Admittedly,” Twist shrugged, “but it has been made public and if you really don’t know it, it wasn’t much of a secret anyway. The whole world knew you were running the kingdom and even if you would have kept your hands off and let Alexai reign, the whole world would have thought you were using him as a puppet.”

“I would never…”

“Of course not,” Twist cut her off, “but that wouldn’t stop people from thinking what they would. This way is better.”

“Only if Parliament will accept her,” Spin added. “Oceanvine’s Girls did a remarkable job of quelling the reporters. Until today I would never have thought it could be done, but it turns out there is a way to jam the gearbox that lot uses for brains.”

“What are the chances of getting a parliamentary ratification?” Twist asked. “That sort of thing would never come up in Emmine. The parliament is the King’s government but it has no say over who sits on the throne.”

“Giving the parliament the power to ratify the king was a necessary sop to the Lords following the Counter Revolution,” Dusya explained. “It was a long time before they were able to exercise it, of course, since Ksaveras XI was still relatively young and healthy. By the time the matter came up they were a mere rubber stamp for Ksaveras XII, but except for when Ksaveras XIII’s only son died before he did, the question of who would be king has never really been in doubt. Even then it was clear that Earl Lyaksandr was next in line and while Parliament did debate the issue for a few days they eventually decided that it was his descent was from his great grandfather Prince Zakhar that counted and not from his commonborn great grandmother, Ksana of Northmarket.”

“Wasn’t she the one who…” Twist began to ask.

“She was a prostitute,” Dusya nodded stiffly, “or had been. That was the only reason they had to debate.”

“I meant to ask that wasn’t she the one who co-adopted with Oceanvine the Elder?” Twist completed her question. “That is why I am consider kin to the royal family.”

“Yes,” Dusya nodded, looking more at ease. “That is the case.” The door behind her opened just then and she turned just in time to Baron Ilya of Marga enter the room.

The elderly lord carried a cane to assist him these days, but was still able to walk where he wanted to go. He wore his snow white hair slightly longer than was fashionable among Granomish men, but it was neatly combed back and only barely covered his ears. He was looking far more tired than he had when Twist and Spin first met him years earlier, but he continued to carry himself proudly.

“Well, well, my darling Ilyana!” he began as he approached, “or should I say, ‘Your Royal Majesty?’”

“Better hold off on that one,” Ilyana replied. “I’m not ready for it yet.”

“Ready or not,” Baron Ilya replied, “You are my queen, but whatever possessed you to announce your intentions in that manner?”

“I didn’t, Uncle!” Ilyana barely held herself back from shouting, then immediately forced herself to calm down again. “I am sorry.”

“Uh uh!” Ilya chided her. “The king, or queen in this case, is never sorry.”

“This one is,” Ilyana replied. “I am not going to stand on royal dignity, whether as princess or queen, when I am clearly in the wrong.”

“Then I suggest that you never be in the wrong,” Ilya chuckled. “Parliament would never understand. So what brought about this great change?”

“Alexai either started thinking or stopped,” Ilyana growled and turned to look straight at his husband. “I am not yet sure which. Damn it, Alexai! You should have at least warned me!”

“Us, dear,” Alexai corrected her. “You should get used to using the royal we.”

“Don’t you give me… us… that,” she retorted, but she became flustered and Alexai interrupted.

“And would you have agreed to it if I had warned you?” he asked pointedly.

“I.. uh… we would certainly have not!” Ilyana told him. “The goal was to unite the kingdom, but this is going to tear it apart and at the worst possible time.”

“Better we have a national debate than to deliver the kingdom directly to Khordel,” Alexai replied.

“That was the point of making you the king,” Ilyana told him.

“I am not sure it would have worked,” Baron Ilya broke in. “I agreed with you that marriage was probably the best way to ensure a smooth transition, but I was watching the reaction to your press conference before joining you. The commentators made some valid points about How the Parliament would react both to you and to Alexai versus Earl Mihail of Khordel.”

“The commentators talk a lot,” Ilyana replied dismissively. “They generally have their own agendas amd are frequently wrong.”

“Only when they are trying to drum up support for some political cause,” Ilya shrugged. “In this case, the network did not have time yet to round up the usual politicians, but they had a couple actual analysts on hand since all they thought they would have to comment on were Alexai’s chances.”

“And those chances?” Ilyana prompted him.

“Oh, I think we would have shoe-horned him in,” Ilya admitted. “The House of Commons was split, but everyone agrees that barring a last minute gaff, they would have approved of Alexai’s succession. The Lords Spiritual, however, were nearly all against him, but the Lords Temporal edged in his favor. It would have been close and Lord Mikhail might just have gained enough votes to bar Alexai from the succession, but most opinions say he would have won.”

“What are these Lords Spiritual and Temporal?” Seastar asked curiously.

Baron Ilya turned toward the young human mage and smiled as though her question were not only welcome, but expected. “The Lords Spiritual are those who sit in parliament by virtue of being a priest of sufficient rank within the Church of Granom.”

“Only priests?” Seastar asked, “no priestesses?”

“Priestesses too,” Ilya confirmed. “Women have been allowed to sit in Parliament since the Counter Revolution. The Lords Temporal are the various barons, earls and dukes of the kingdom who sit in parliament by heredity. There are also Lords Temporal who owe their seats to Royal appointment. Those are Lord for life, but their descendants do not inherit the title, and as I said, I think we could have carried that house with Alexai.

“All that is history now, though and we have a whole new game,” Ilya went on.

“I know that a little too well,” Ilyana nodded.

“We, dear niece,” Ilya corrected her.

“I am not the queen yet,” Ilyana responded.

“Yes, you are,” Ilya maintained. “You may require the ratification of Parliament to make it a permanent change in status, but there is no such thing as an ‘Acting monarch.’ The monarchy passes to the rightful successor immediately, so as of right now you are the queen.”

“Am I the rightful successor?” Ilyana asked.

“I think so,” Ilya responded. “So does everyone in this room.” He looked around to see a collection of nods. “All right. What votes Alexai might have gotten to approve him as Ksaveras XIX are irrelevant. The interesting thing is that the Commons are an unknown, but you have always been popular with the people. It will be interesting to see if that opinion changes, but I think you should carry the Commons.”

“Fine,” Ilyana nodded. “I am not convinced. Popularity changes with the wind, but until we can get actual polling results, I’ll let that rest. What about the Lords?”

“Now that is where this all gets very interesting,” Ilya told her with relish. “The Lords Spiritual actually look on you with favor.”

“You are having fun at my expense?” Ilyana asked.

“Our,” Ilya corrected her again, “and not at all. Father Trenn and Mother Stacia would have cast their votes for Granova no matter who the candidate was, but their fellow priests and priestesses did not like the idea of a succession by a Granova by marriage. That is why they did not support Alexai. They care less for your gender than your genes, it seems.”

“That is interesting,” Ilyana admitted. “What about the Lords Temporal?”

“Well, they are the big problem,” Ilya admitted. “There we have another reversal. I suspect the Liberal Party will come out in your favor, but they are only one hundred thirty-one votes in that house out of six hundred seventy-four.”

“That’s a lot of lords,” Spin whistled.

“At the moment, we have some fifty-seven lords who are disqualified from sitting in the house,” Ilya admitted, “so the number is really six hundred seventeen.”

“Disqualified?” Spin asked. “How?”

“A lord can be disqualified for a number of reasons,” Baron Ilya replied. “He or she might reside outside of the country. That is the most common reason. The second reason is that they might be currently serving as judges or as delegates to the Maiyim Alliance. There are also a fair number who are retired, although like me, the retired lords may come out of retirement whenever they please.”

“But how do the other lords stand?” Ilyana asked.

“I think we can expect the more conservative parties to side with Khordel simply because he is a man,” Ilya admitted, “so we are going to have a battle for the fence-sitters, but we have time yet. The funeral is a week away and Parliament cannot consider the question until at least then and they will likely wait another day or two out of respect for Ksaveras.”

“I don’t know,” Ilyana shook her head uncertainly.

“We,” Ilya corrected her yet again. “Get used to using the royal we. You will need to do so in public at all times. Act like the queen and everyone will see you as the queen.”

“Nonsense!” Ilyana scoffed.

“Not at all,” Ilya told her patiently, “but if you do not, we could lose votes simply because you are not seen as sufficiently regal, so keep using the plural for yourself. After the coronation you can relax again, but until then you are ‘We.’”

“Very well,” Ilyana nodded. “We will try it your way. It seems silly to me… us.”

“It seemed silly to your grandfather too,” Ilya laughed. “Fortunately, his ascension to the throne was not under debate. For now, though our best course is to treat you as though we have no doubts and wait for the polls. Once we know where various lords and MPs stand we can work on a more directed strategy.”

“In the meantime,” Ilyana replied, “We should probably be meeting with our allies from the other nations of Maiyim. Every ambassador stationed in Querna has an appointment to pay their respects this afternoon and we believe more diplomats will be arriving over the next week. Lady Islandtwist? Sir Spinnaker. May I speak to you in private?”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Twist agreed. Spin nodded as the others filed out of the room.

“Will you stay until after the coronation if we get that far?” Ilyana asked earnestly. “If the Parliament puts Khordel on the throne, I may just go back to Olen with you. Maybe I can emulate my ancestor and learn to control my null-magic aura.”

“We’ll stay,” Spin promised readily, “but I think everyone is forgetting a very basic point. I looked into this and while Parliament has the right to veto the succession, it does not have the right to propose its own candidate for the Crown. So long as we keep putting up candidates they have to vote yay or nay on them.”

“But Earl Mikhail can claim the Crown for himself regardless of our candidates,” Ilyana countered, “and the Parliament will vote on them in order of precedence. None of the living dukes desire the Crown and Khordel is second in precedence in the list of earls.”

“Oh,” Spin shook his head. “I thought that as long as we had a candidate we could block his candidacy.”

“Sadly, no,” Ilyana sighed. “That would have been a good tactic though. The big problem is that Khordel is by no means barred from sitting in the House of Lords during the debate and must only recuse himself when his own name is up for consideration.”

“He doesn’t have to at least leave the session?” Twist asked.

“He should,” Ilyana shrugged. “it is not considered proper for a candidate to attend parliament when he is being ratified as King, but there is no law that prevents him from sitting there and observing. He is only barred from speaking and voting.”

“Would having him sit there influence votes for or against him?” Spin asked.

“Good question,” Ilyana admitted. “If he stays and observes it might alienate some of the lords sitting on the fence, but it will also cement those who are already inclined to ratify his claim. They will not be able to change their votes without his seeing them do it.”

“And as one of the upper echelon of the Sons and Daughters of Maiyim, we already know what a sweet and forgiving guy he is,” Spin commented sourly.

“We won’t improve our own chances by pointing out we will not be visiting Parliament until after our Coronation and then only for the usual annual visits or if specially invited,” Ilyana considered, “but by emphasizing that traditionally a candidate is never in Parliament while being considered we might undercut his candidacy when the time comes. We will see about having Baron Ilya find a way to pass that around through his faction, but I still wonder whether anyone is going to call our claim illegal.”

“I learned that one myself, recently,” Twist admitted. “There is no actual law against a woman from ruling Granom. The law that forbade it was not included when your Constitution was last revised.”

“I… uh… we know that,” Ilyana replied with a quick nod, “but most people do not.”

“Then let’s educate them,” Twist suggested. “I am sure you have any number of people who can… uh… leak that tidbit to the press and then say it over and over again for the next week or more. I’ll admit that until recently I thought no woman could rule in Granom, and I am willing to bet most Granomen think the same thing, but really all that is stopping you is tradition. It is time to start a new tradition.”

Seven

Ilyana’s and Alexai’s schedules were full the next week as various dignitaries arrived from all over Maiyim, although there were far fewer international visitors than had come to Querna when Ksaveras XVII had died. “It’s the war,” Freddy commented to Spin when he repeated what Older members of the court had noted. Frederick, Earl Olen had arrived with two assistants on a military jet less than a day after the death of the old king had been officially announced. “Commercial flights are still only being allowed on a limited basis and only so many diplomats can wangle a military flight. The rest will have to arrive either by ship or on private planes. We’ve been sending messages to the Tzali, requesting they allow flights here and explaining why, but have had no response.”

“After their abortive raid the other day,” Pulac-pa told him, “I would not expect them to attack here again so soon, but that attack and the manner in which it was conducted surprised me, so there is no saying for sure.”

Seastar was happy enough to be able to spend some time with her father. They had not seen each other except via Vid screen since she had left for Olen and the opportunity to catch up in Querna had been unexpected. At first, the two Ellistans found themselves feeling each other out. While they had parted on good terms, they had been very much estranged during the years leading up to Seastar’s apprenticeship with Islandtwist, but after some initial stiffness, both found they had a lot of time to make up and began to spend every spare moment with each other.

Ilyana frequently called on Twist to accompany her when meeting visiting dignitaries. Together with Ladies Giselle and Margotte. Ilyana’s companions in normal times, they made an impressive team to greet visitors to the palace, but the main reason Ilyana turned to Twist was for her perspective. Being from Emmine, her viewpoints were naturally different from those of native Granomen. Ilyana had spent years as a diplomat involved with the Maiyim Alliance and she understood many different national perspectives but also respected Twist’s ideas on any subject. Twist usually brought Slipstream along with her. The journeywoman from the Isle of Fire added to Ilyana’s store of advice and demonstrated the desired amount of international outlook Ilyana was hoping to project. However, in spite of the diplomatic bridges she built, Ilyana continued to worry about the upcoming debate in Parliament.

Spin and Pulac-pa as notables were also on duty to meet and greet visitors, but whenever they had a spare moment, they spent it downstairs in the Oceanvine’s Girls tactical headquarters where they could not only keep abreast of the latest events of the war but give advice to the military when they could.

However, they all made a point of calling Maiyim each day to let her know what was happening there, find out what was happening elsewhere, but most importantly, to keep her company as best they could. It was Spin who discovered that Twist’s parents had both been visiting the boat to chat with Maiyim, but that neither knew the other had been there. When he told Twist about it she was not surprised her father would think to give Maiyim some company but was amazed that her mother would think to do so and at first was suspicious that Moonsong had been using her visits as an excuse to study the spell complex that made Maiyim everything she was. However on asking Maiyim, Twist learned that Moonsong had mostly just been by to chat although she had twice asked questions about Oceanvine the Younger whose memories had been the seed from which Maiyim’s personality had grown.

Finally, the day of the funeral arrived. Ilyana and Alexai might have manage to get by with a quick and simple wedding but the funeral of a Granomish king was never a simple affair. The members of the official funeral party, those who had also been in attendance at the wedding, were awoken three hours before dawn. At that time, they were bathed twice and then dressed in ancient mourners’ robes. The robes looked like plain black clothes that had been torn a dozen times, but were actually hard to get into. Getting dressed took nearly an hour.

“By custom and tradition,” Ilyana told the others while they sat at a ceremonial breakfast where they were not allowed to eat, although they were allowed to sip at the strange sparkling water that was served to them in stone mugs, “we are required now to walk to the Granomern. There are no official requirements as to any sort of line formation as we do so, but we would appreciate it if we bunched up in groups of no more than twos and threes.”

“She’s getting more comfortable with the royal we, isn’t she?” Spin whispered to Twist and they got out of their chairs.

Twist smiled. “Our Ilyana does not like being corrected about anything. It only took a day or so of such correction before she remembered to use the word without thinking.”

“What happens to all that food we had to leave on our plates?” Seastar wondered out loud to Slipstream as the two women joined the procession at its very end. Pulac-pa walked between them. It was snowing lightly, but the large wet flakes were melting as they hit the ground. It was just the start of a late season storm, but forecasters did not expect it to start snowing in earnest until late afternoon.

“I don’t know,” Slipstream admitted. “Maybe it will be given to the poor?”

“It will be burnt as an offering to the Gods,” one of Ilyana’s distant cousins, a lady from Ahler, turned around to tell her. “It’s an ancient rite, though in truth I like your idea of giving it to those who truly need it better.” She sighed. “I suppose I can arrange that with a handful of coins in the temple charity box though.”

“You have talked about starting a charity of your own,” her husband pointed out. “Perhaps one to honor the memory of our late king?”

“Perhaps,” she said.

After that, the procession moved quietly through the wet and cold, pre-dawn streets of Querna. It was an odd procession, Slipstream thought. The official party was a sort of nucleus of an egg of people. Around them walked a large contingent of the Royal Guards, including all the Oceanvine’s Girls who could be spared. There were crowds lining their route, but between them and the ring of guards stood a thin line of the Querna Municipal Police. Here and there one could hear women, children and even a few men sobbing, but otherwise, it was a silent crowd, all bowing their heads in respect, just as they had all week when visiting the body of Ksaveras XVIII as it lay in state.

The week had been a quiet one. There had been no further attacks on Granom. Ferslakach had never replied to the requests of a cease fire related to the royal funeral, but they had also allowed all diplomatic flights to proceed unmolested. No one knew if it was intentional or just a happy coincidence. However, while the war might have gone on elsewhere, for one week Granom was exempt.

When the funeral procession arrived at the Granomern, they walked in a single file, past the visiting dignitaries, who were already in place, to the altar where Father Trenn dabbed a spot of holy oil mixed with red ochre on their foreheads. They then circled once around the casket of King Ksaveras XVIII and then found their seats in the front row of the great church.

Father Trenn began a long chanting prayer, followed by Mother Stacia who led the attendees in a hymn of peace. Slipstream noticed there was a High Priestess of Methis in attendance as well, but in Granom, Methis was a goddess of birth and life, not death so Sister Meris stayed off to one side of the altar, holding a candle in one hand and a bouquet of white flowers in the other.

There were other prayers and benedictions and Slipstream expected there to be a large number of eulogies for the dead king, but in this she was disappointed. Here the prayers and blessings were the entire service and many of them were in Old Granom, a language that had been otherwise extinct for nearly two thousand years. At one point, the food that had not been eaten that morning was deposited in a sacrificial oven where it was quickly reduced to ashes. In all the service lasted three hours.

Finally, the mourners were instructed to rise as a group of eight men came forward to lift the king’s casket to their shoulders. Seastar thought it particularly appropriate that each man was dressed in an entirely different uniform. There was a soldier, a sailor, an air corpsman, a marine, a Royal Guardsman, a man in a black business suit, which she learned later represented the Royal Bureau of Investigation, one of the lesser priests of Gran and a man wearing an antique suit of steel plate armor that seemed to sparkle and shine in the lights of the sanctuary. The mourners followed them as they carried the casket out of the church and then around to a small building behind it which was the entrance to the royal catacombs.

There was a dark and slightly damp stairway leading downward just inside the door, but only the honor guards and their burden entered the catacombs with Father Trenn and Mother Stacia. Sister Meris, still holding her candle, placed the bouquet of white flowers on the casket, but remained just outside the catacombs with the mourners where it was now snowing in earnest despite the forecaster’s predictions. She led them in a hymn extolling the beauties of life. That seemed the oddest thing to Seastar. Wasn’t this a ceremony for the dead? But she decided that perhaps this ceremony was not so much for the one who died but for those he had left behind.

When the honor guards returned with Father Trenn and Mother Stacia, the High Priestess of Querna chanted one more prayer as the door to the catacombs was closed and bolted. Then Sister Meris finally extinguished the candle. At this point, the funeral was officially over and the spirit of Ksaveras XVIII was at rest, but Ilyana and her funeral party still had to make their way back to the Wurra Palace.

This time, as they walked through the snowy, crowd-lined streets, the people were not so quiet and called their blessings and threw the same sort of white flowers the Priestess of Methis had held into the path of Ilyana and the others. Finally, with the wind beginning to pick up, they arrived back at the Wurra and returned to the formal banquet hall where, this time, they were allowed to eat. The most notable foods at this banquet were the pastries and other sweets that had been disallowed during the previous week. The meal, however, also marked the end of the time in which royal politics were in abeyance and that was the subject most on Ilyana’s mind.

“The Parliament could decide on our claim to the throne at any time now,” she said to those sitting around her.

“Not until tomorrow morning at least, Your Majesty,” Baron Ilya told her. “Parliament cannot meet today. The day of a royal funeral is a holy day, after all. There will be no business discussed in the Houses of Parliament. However, we do have the polls to consider.”

Alexai had been prepared for this and already had a small, portable NetMaiyim slate in his hands. “I have those numbers here,” he told them. “According to a poll released just yesterday the people are in favor of Queen Ilyana by sixty-five percent with ten percent opposed and the rest undecided.”

“The people do not have a vote in this matter,” Ilyana reminded him.

“No, but votes in the House of Commons generally mirrors popular opinion, especially when it is as strong as it is,” Alexai replied.

“We have never been worried about ratification by the Commons,” Baron Ilya pointed out, “but we must also have the approval of the Lords.”

“Yes,” Alexai nodded less than enthusiastically. “There, the issue is more clouded. Father Trenn assures me the Lords Spiritual will vote to ratify Her majesty twenty-five to one.”

“Which upper priest is voting against us?” Ilyana asked almost casually.

“Does it really matter?” Alexai countered.

“No, we suppose not,” Ilyana shook her head. “And the Lords Temporal?”

“There are six hundred and seventy-four lords qualified to sit in the House,” Alexai told her. “Of that number we are only certain of two hundred fifty-seven going your way. On the other hand we are only certain of one hundred ninety-eight opposed. The rest have not declared their intentions regarding this vote and we are forced to consider the platforms and policies of their parties.”

“Traditionally the House of Commons votes before the Lords,” Ilya told them, “and an overwhelming positive vote in the Commons might affect how some lords vote. Prime Minister Merrentov assures me he intends to allow a minimum of two days for the Commons to debate the issue. Given the wide assortment of other agendas those politicians have, it might run far longer if they all feel they need to make speeches.”

“We shall have to wait for them to run out of things to say then,” Ilyana sighed.

“They are politicians,” Ilya reminded her with a grin. “They might never run out of things to say, but I am sure your prime minister will reign them in if their debate goes on more than a week.”

“And all the while Earl Khordel will have freedom to pursue his own campaign within the House of Lords,” Ilyana noted. “He already has Pafsa on his side and campaigning for him actively.”

“Pafsa is another noted member of the Sons and Daughters,” Ilya reminded her. “His influence has waned greatly since his daughter’s arrest and conviction for her involvement in your kidnapping those years ago, otherwise he might be the one trying to be king. But it comes as no surprise that he would support another member of that organization.”

“Is there any way to get a better idea of who we might need to approach in order to secure the Lords?” Ilyana asked.

“I am just thankful we do not also have a Senate to account for as they do in Emmine,” Alexai told her.

“The House of Lords has had to put several issues on hold this past week,” Ilya pointed out, “Including a bill that will finance your coronation.”

“Or that of Earl Khordel,” Ilyana replied sourly.

“Well, it is true that it is supposedly to fund the festivities for whomever ultimately claims the Crown,” Ilya shrugged, “but it is my intention to invoke your name at every turn during the debate. I and my party will make this a bill for your coronation and then we shall see how the vote goes.”

“Khordel’s supporters will just deny this is necessarily for us,” Ilyana replied.

“Actually they will attempt to block the bill or at least reduce the funding,” Ilya corrected her. “They will, of course, intend to introduce an additional funding bill following Khordel’s ratification, if they get that far, so I will see to it that we inflate the bill enough so that you will get more than just a few streamers and little flags to wave around.”

“How nice,” Ilyana laughed, “but we do not plan to spend excessively in any case. There is a war on, you know. Perhaps just a few streamers and some little flags to wave is all we can afford.”

“I am sure my queen will only spend what is appropriate,” Ilya told her.

Eight

“What’s happening on Khordel Island?” Ilyana asked Mila and Dusya a few days later in Mila’s office in the basement of the Wurra Palace.

“The vote in the House of Commons was a spark that lit a conflagration, it seems,” Dusya reported even as she continued to work, monitoring news feeds and other reports on a nearby Net Maiyim terminal.

“We did well in the Commons,” Ilyana admitted. “Four hundred fifty-six to one fifty-four was even better than expected, but that’s Kordel’s county that’s on fire.”

“The people are not actually setting fires,” Mila pointed out. “They are merely marching peacefully to support your claim to the throne.”

“But they are doing it outside Khordel’s estate,” Ilyana argued.

“They should be fairly safe in doing so,” Dusya decided. “So long as they stay peaceful Khordel would hardly dare ordering them to stop or even having the local police break them up. Any act of repression would harm his own claim.”

“Inaction will harm it as well,” Ilyana noted. “That was actually pretty clever.” She thought about that with a smile on her face but suddenly became very serious. “Who thought this up?”

“Someone in the Equality Party,” Mila shrugged.

“Uncle Ilya’s party,” Ilyana nodded. “I suppose it’s too late to stop it.”

“We,” Dusya corrected her automatically. Such corrections were almost never needed now.

“No, I,” Ilyana shook her head. “That was not the thought of your queen.”

“Yes it was,” Dusya maintained. “Your Majesty, I know that neither you nor your grandfather ever insisted on the royal dignity in private, but until your claim is secure you must be the queen in thought, word and deed at all times.”

“Very well,” Ilyana grumbled, “We suppose it is too late to stop it. This is very dangerous and we do not like putting our subjects at peril when it is unnecessary.”

“I believe the danger is slight,” Mila advised, “and Khordel is not the only place the protests are taking place. I believe Baron Ilya’s people aimed the first protest at Khordel, but last night there were marches in support of your claim in Sinid, Avetone, Tresa, Kif and on Palsondir. I have reports that still more are planned for today. The Equalists only planned the ones in Khordel. Your Majesty, the people of Granom truly support you and they are coming out on their own to show it.”

“We suppose that at least makes us feel better after our defeat in the House of Lords,” Ilyana replied.

“The House of Lords is still debating the issue, Your Majesty,” Mila told her reasonably. “You have neither won nor lost in that assembly yet.”

“The funding bill went against us,” Ilyana replied. “The entire bill was shot down.”

“By a very slim margin,” Dusya told her. “The vote was three hundred forty-three to three hundred fifty-seven. Much closer than we had expected.”

“Many of those positive votes were simply in favor of a big party,” Ilyana shook her head.

“Your Majesty,” Dusya interrupted. “Marke, Baron Sinid is being interviewed on the Granom News Network.” She transferred the broadcast to a larger screen in the room. The banner at the bottom of the picture proclaimed “Breaking News: Parliament in Recess.”

They had apparently missed the opening remarks in which the baron of Sinid was thanked for granting the interview. Sinid, they all knew was one of the most conservative lords in Parliament but his Conservative Party had thus far given every indication they would vote against Ilyana’s ratification. So it was a great surprise when the reporter asked, “Are you saying you are actually in favor of a woman on the throne of Granom?”

“Miss Cassov,” Baron Sinid replied politely, “While the Conservative party seeks to maintain and preserve the traditional Granomish values, none of us believe there is value in any form of gender discrimination. Why should our perspective change simply because we are talking about our monarch? I would have no trouble swearing fealty to the queen.

“As unofficial regent, Princess Ilyana did a magnificent job for Granom,” Sinid continued, “and I am sure our kingdom will only prosper in her loving hands. So yes, I favor a woman on the throne, and the woman I support is my Queen Ilyana.”

“It’s all over but the voting now,” Mila chuckled. “His party more than makes up for the difference in the funding vote.”

“Wait, the reporter just asked about that,” Dusya cut in.

“Well, yes,” Sinid replied to a question they had spoken over. “We shall have to revisit the issue of funding the coronation. The proposals were, sadly, too grand for a celebration while we are fighting for our lives against the alien aggressors. Our queen does deserve an apt and fitting celebration, however, and I shall see to it that we properly balance propriety in wartime with our love and respect for a truly great woman.”

“Remind me to have him here for dinner more often,” Ilyana remarked dryly as the other two chuckled. “However, he reminds us we have other important issues before us. We would like a full military briefing. Today, if possible.”

“I can have your military chiefs here this evening, Your Majesty,” Mila replied, “but we have that information already.”

“We shall take that briefing from you gladly,” Ilyana told her, “but we would like the perspectives of our generals and admirals as well. We… oh hell! I’m dropping the royal we in private now that it looks like I’ll be ratified. I also want a briefing as to our strategy and those of our allies. I have been too isolated since Grandfather died. I should have been more active.”

“You have been in mourning, Your Majesty,” Dusya told her. “The leaders of your military have respected that and done their jobs as they should. For now, though, Mila has your update which will prepare you for tonight’s meeting.”

“The Tzali are continuing their campaign all across Maiyim,” Mila told her. “They did give Greater Querna a wide berth and until this morning left all flights coming or going from here unmolested.”

“The honeymoon is over, I take it?” Ilyana did not quite ask.

“You would know better than I would,” Mila shot back with a wink.

“Someday Alexai and I should actually go somewhere for a real honeymoon,” Ilyana replied. “Please go on.”

Emmine and Sutheria sent military flyers against the Tzali base on Robander’s Island the day before the funeral,” Mila went on. “They never actually sighted the base there and lost three quarters of their men and women before they finally turned and fled back to their home base. I have been working with the Olen Tzal, Pulac-pa and he detects a pattern to the attacks. Actually he has detected two patterns.

“In general,” Mila continued, “the Tzali have been attacking relatively minor targets throughout the world. Most of those have been in the southern hemisphere, which makes sense since Granom and the Isle of Fire are as far from Robander’s as you can get and still be on dry land, although we have not been entirely untouched these last few days.

“That is the other pattern, Pulac-pa observed,” she went on. “The attacks in the north have been in waves so regular you can set your watch by them.”

“When was the last time anyone set a watch?” Ilyana laughed. “All timepieces get their settings from Net Maiyim and synchronize automatically.”

“It’s just an expression, Your Majesty.” Mila replied. “The point is these small groups of attackers are arriving at extremely regular intervals. Each one has a different target, but we know that every ten hours, forty-seven minutes another flight of fighter spacecraft attacks somewhere.”

“So the Tzali are a remarkably punctual people?” Ilyana guessed.

“No more so than Granomen,” Mila shook her head. “Humans and Orenta too, for that matter.”

“This is true all over the world?” Ilyana asked.

“In the southern hemisphere there are at least as many attacks that are not along that schedule,” Mila admitted, “but somewhere in the world there is an attack at that interval every time.”

“They’re coming from the Asteroid base,” Ilyana realized. “It’s spinning slowly, isn’t it? But shouldn’t those waves of attacks be arriving at increasingly shorter intervals?”

“The intervals are growing shorter,” Mila admitted, “but the asteroid is decelerating as it approaches its planed orbit so the change is only a little bit each day. Ten hours and forty-seven minutes is what the interval currently is. By this time next week it will be ten hours forty-two minutes, but it won’t get too much shorter than that unless the asteroid stops spinning on its axis. Actually, Pulac-pa thinks all these timed attacks are just a diversion.”

“A diversion from what?” Ilyana asked.

“He believes that the leaders of the Tzali,” Mila explained, “the alpha primes of the Ferslakach Pack, are moving their command base to Robander’s Island.”

“Why?” Ilyana asked. “The asteroid base is harder for us to hit. It is more secure.”

“It might be a cultural difference,” Dusya put in, “but the Tzali are here to colonize our world. They see great symbolic value in having their leaders here on this world. It will boost their morale during the final push to defeat us if the primes are already in residence on this world.”

“That makes a certain amount of sense and I disagree about it being a cultural difference,” Ilyana told them. “We Granomen… all the people of Maiyim, understand the importance of symbols. I think that is a big part of what makes us people. And having one’s leaders firmly established among us is a part of it.”

“And that, Your Majesty, is why the people are out there marching for you,” Mila told her. “The Lords may still be undecided, but the people of Granom know who their monarch is and should be.”

“Have you ever thought of being a speechwriter, Mila?” Ilyana asked, grinning.

“I would be terrible at writing speeches, Your Majesty,” Mila replied. “I cannot twist facts around to say something that is not true.”

“So I’ll have to keep you around for the happy speeches,” Ilyana chuckled. She looked around the office and noticed Mila’s tactical displays. Some were obviously related to the war, but with the news broadcast over, the large screen had returned to a detailed map of Querna City. “What is this?” she asked, “and what are these red dots all over the map?”

“I am using this map both to chart threats to you and to plot a safe route for your coronation procession,” Mila explained.

“Uh…?” Ilyana was caught at a loss. “This many?”

“Threats?” Mila translated. She fiddled with the controls and some of the red dots changed color. “The blue dots, over half of them, are cases in which it was shown that the perceived threat was assuredly unwarranted. Most of these were cases in which either someone just got drunk and was spouting off something critical of you, your grandfather or the government in general or else someone misheard something being said but went ahead and reported it anyway.

“In the incidents represented by green dots we are reasonably certain that is the case too, but we have some small doubt so I have marked them so, in case they need to be revisited. That accounts for over eighty-five percent of the incidents. Of the rest, we have the yellow, orange and red. All represent actual creditable threats to you in increasing severity. All have been suppressed, but I continue to study them, looking for patterns and connections.”

“I did not realize there were so many,” Ilyana admitted.

“We did not want you to worry,” Dusya explained. “Also, this is about the same as it has been in the last decade. We think of this as a normal situation.”

“No wonder you Oceanvine’s Girls are always so serious,” Ilyana remarked.

“It is no frivolous task to protect the women of Granova, Your Majesty,” Dusya replied, “but it is a job that is fulfilling, exciting and sometimes even fun.”

“Still, I owe you all an apology,” Ilyana replied. “I have done nothing to make your work easier.”

“You do what you have to, Your Majesty,” Mila told her. “We do what we must too, and I must say you have not really caused us more than normal worry since that good will tour of yours a few years ago.”

“Nice to know,” Ilyana admitted, “but I promise I’ll keep that in mind, next time I am bored and just want to do something normal… whatever normal is for a Queen of Granom. It’s not going clubbing, is it?”

“No,” Mila shook her head, “but then that never could be normal for you after your parents died. However, if you truly wish to meet with your military leaders tonight, I must get to work and let them know.”

“You and Dusya will be there?” Ilyana asked.

“We are always here.”

While preparing for the coronation, Spin and Twist, along with Slipstream and Seastar, began working with a team of Granomish mages from the University at Querna. Spin pointed out they needed to make sure there was sufficient magical security to back up the more conventional sorts provided by the Royal Guards. In spite of having a large Magic Department at the university, however, they could only interest five mages to join them; four masters and a journeyman from Bellinen who had come to Querna to avoid being indentured to the Bellinen government. This journeyman, who called himself Foxglove, had managed to get through his apprenticeship with funds from the Southgate Memorial Scholarship, although he still had to work part time to earn enough money for food and dormitory space.

Foxglove, it turned out was a great fan of both Twist and Spin, especially Spin, and started spending any spare time he had at the Wurra Palace working with them. It was during this time that Spin had a chance to revisit Seastar’s original ideas about possible ways to block translocation and Foxglove turned out to be an enthusiastic experimenter, deciding that if they could crack the problem it would make an excellent subject for his master’s thesis.

It was Spin who finally blocked a translocation attempt first. The key was similar to how he had learned to use the staff when translocating so that he would not be knocked out by tranlocation shock when the spell’s energy backlashed on him. As Seastar had speculated, it did turn out to be a tug-of-war between two mages but as they experimented it was Foxglove who discovered it was far easier to redirect a translocation attempt than to actually block it and that you could redirect the spell to deliver its target to the place of origin, which while not directly blocking, essentially produced the same results by forcing the translocating mage to end up where he or she started.

“I would never have thought to use a staff, though,” Foxglove admitted. The day after meeting Spin and Twist, he had gone into a nearby forest and found an oak branch that made an ideal staff. He immediately stripped off the bark and fitted a brass table leg finial with a rubber bumper on its bottom, to one end. Since then, he had spent considerable time carving, sanding and polishing the wood so that by the time Coronation Day arrived it looked as though he had been using it for years.

Nine

Coronation Day finally arrived a month after the death of Ksaveras XVIII and the weather could not have been more markedly different. Spring, as the old saying went, had sprung and there were blossoms on the cherry trees all over the city and most especially in the royal garden, visible from the window of Twist’s and Spin’s suite. Twist would have loved to just sit and enjoy breakfast out there, but they had other business that morning.

In preparing for the day, Ilyana’s inherited council of advisors insisted it would not be appropriate to celebrate her coronation for another few months, but she argued in response that while she would be happy to wait, “…the war will not. Ladies, gentlemen, We appreciate your council, but Granom cannot afford to wait for our situation to return to normal on the usual schedule. Going ahead with our coronation now will both enhance the morale of the populace and return the realm to as normal a state of affairs as can be accomplished in these extraordinary times.”

As coronations went, it was a modest affair, but while the government had not paid for the traditional red and gold bunting that lined the streets of the city, the populace did. Anyone who had one, flew the national flag a gold mountain on a field of red. A few particularly patriotic artists even painted on a crown across the mountain’s peak, turning the national flag into the royal arms.

The route planned for the coronation procession to the Granomern had been carefully chosen. Rather than stick to the same course they had walked for the funeral procession, it was decided that the carriages would travel through the city a course that spiraled toward the great temple. The route had not, however, been officially announced but the crowds of people tended to line up wherever police officers were stationed. Once Ilyana and Alexai’s carriage and those of her court began to leave the palace, many of them would shift locations when it seemed they might be on the wrong street for viewing.

Twist and Spin sat in the horse-drawn carriage with Ilyana and Alexai, not because of their putative precedence within Granom as distant relatives of the queen, but because Mila put her foot down, insisting that representatives of Oceanvine’s Girls ride with the queen. As it happened, two of Oceanvine’s Girls drove the carriage as well, something the news-casters misinterpreted as starting a new tradition of having coachwomen instead of coachmen when a reigning queen was to be crowned,

“That’s not a bad idea,” Ilyana smiled as they listened to the broadcast within the carriage. She turned to smile at the people who lined the street and waved with regal gentility toward them. “Let’s make a note to our descendants on that point, assuming I am not also the last woman to ever be crowned.”

Just then they heard a sound like distant thunder that was repeated several times. “What was that?” Prince Consort Alexai demanded.

“Someone shooting off a ship’s canon in salute, maybe?” Twist replied uncertainly even as Spin used his phone implants to contact Mila.

“Uh huh?” Spin asked, seemingly into air. “Yeah. Could be a threat or just some methane built up in the sewers. Let’s change the route. I know that might be why someone set off small explosions to pop a few manhole covers, and they might also have done it to make us think that and then purposely stay on this route.” He paused to listen. “Let’s go up three additional blocks before turning, parallel the street we intended to take and then travel one block to the west of the one we would have turned on next. If I’m right that will get us to the temple a little early, but I know you already have security in place there. Good.” There was another pause. “What do you mean ‘What about the Tzali?’ I doubt any attack by them would be so subtle. Oh, I didn’t know that. Let the AeroSpace force handle them. If they make it to Querna, the Wurra wouldn’t be any safer than the basement of the Granomern. Right. Stay in touch.”

“We understood the first part,” Ilyana told him before he could repeat the conversation. “We are altering the route. No problem there. The route was never published anyway and I shall accept your solution. Are we also under Tzali attack?”

“Maybe,” Spin admitted as the carriage took the expected turn. “A large flight has been spotted coming from over the north pole. Mila says we aren’t sure if they are actually trying to get here or are just running from an unsuccessful raid on Rjalkatyp. The Isle of Fire’s AirForce is on their tails and our forces are headed north to intercept them. I suspect the Tzali are in for a bad day.”

“I do not like the timing of that, however,” Alexai remarked.

“Pulac-pa is back at the palace working with Mila,” Spin replied. “He is fairly certain the Tzali fighters will break off and head for space the moment they realize they are in a vice.” The carriage turned again and when Spin looked out the window he did not like what he saw. “Not exactly one of your fashionable neighborhoods is it?”

“You forgot to ask where this change would take us,” Twist pointed out. “Don’t worry, I have us as well-warded as possible.”

Ilyana also looked outside the carriage. What she saw was a part of the city that had not been kept up as well as the parts she had normally visited. Even here there were people cheering for her, so she put on a smile and waved to them. “I had not realized this neighborhood was even here,” she admitted. “Alexai, please make sure we do something to help these people as soon as we can.”

They had not been paying much attention to the audio broadcast still playing softly in the carriage, but Twist turned the volume up ever so slightly. “Well this is an interesting turn of events,” the announcer commented to his co-host. “Saella, what do you think this means?”

“Queen Ilyana is obviously showing us she is not just the queen of the well-to-do,” Saella responded after what might have been too long a pause. “She is the queen of all Granom and uses this gesture to embrace all her subjects, no matter how humble.”

“That’s twice we got lucky,” Spin remarked.

“Third time is the charm, is it not?” Ilyana replied. “We must make sure there is no third time.”

The coronation ceremony itself went smoothly and like the procession was broadcast world-wide. It started with a long religious service conducted jointly by the three high priest and priestesses in which the blessings of the Gods were bestowed on the royal couple. Then Ilyana stepped forward and sat down on a ceremonial throne that legend claims had been built personally by Ksaveras I but which most experts on the subject argued the style of the legs and arms were at least two centuries younger. To date, no one had allowed a sample of the wood be sacrificed to C14 dating and even a single sample would not have satisfied some proponents since another theory held that the throne had been rebuilt at least twice since its original construction.

Ilyana waited with a jewel-encrusted mace of state in one hand and an orb in the other while the crown was suspended over her head and Father Trenn administered the Royal Oath of Office. With the oath sworn to, Ilyana, now indisputably the Queen of Granom, rose from the throne and walked to the doors of the Granomern where she was presented to the populace to Granom.

The trip back to the Wurra palace was direct and without incident although one hundred yards from the gates, Ilyana commanded, “Stop the carriage!” and got out to greet individual people in the crowd.

Spin’s implant activated immediately. “She and I talked about that!” Mila’s voice growled as soon as he had started to say, “Hello?”

“Twist is watching,” Spin told her.

“Back her up!” Mila ordered. Spin started getting out of the carriage even as Mila went on, “Damn it! I specifically told her not to get out of the carriage until she was safely back inside the palace.”

“Yeah, okay, I’m moving,” Spin told her and signed off. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Seastar in the next carriage where Foxglove was serving as one of two drivers. Spin signaled to both of them and saw Slipstream already making her way forward from the carriage behind that where she also had been driving. He pulled the golden staff from his pocket and felt it start to grow to full size.

Seastar and Foxglove were nearest to the queen and Spin saw that Seastar had been carrying her staff in the carriage. He wished now he had insisted the others do likewise. He wanted to run forward, but did not want to raise an alarm needlessly. A moment later he realized he should have been sprinting.

There was a flash of light and a loud popping sound as a human and an Orente appeared on either side of Ilyana. “Clumsy spell work,” Spin muttered as he ran toward them. The strange human mage attempted to grab Ilyana’s arm and got her elbow in his face for his efforts. He fell to the ground unconscious and bleeding profusely from his nose. A moment later the Orente grabbed her and attempted to translocate away.

Seastar was closest and did what she could to block the translocation, but in the confusion of people all around her screaming or trying run somewhere she forgot some of what they had learned about blocking such spells and rather than let the Orente go on a round trip, she got into a magical tug-of-war with him. The struggle only lasted a few seconds until Spin got near enough to act. At his signal, Seastar let go and Spin redirected the translocation adding an extra twist of his own and funneled the excess spell energy into the Orentan mage. There was another blinding flash of light and a deafening crack of thunder. It was only later, on camera, that anyone could see that the queen and her attacker disappeared and then reappeared in the same locations they had left. Ilyana looked dazed, but, because of Spin’s manipulation of the spell’s energy, the Orentan mage’s clothing was badly chared and his hair had been burned off. Spin did not much care if the rogue mage was alive or dead but directed the nearest Oceanvine’s Girls to assist Ilyana back into the palace, while Twist instructed the Royal Guardsmen and local police to be careful to keep the two attackers in a null-magic field.

“Hold a second,” Spin stopped them as they were about to carry the two off. Spin patted down the Orente and found a small but heavy metal object in one pocket. It was about the size of his palm and had some lights on it along with a rocker switch. Twist followed his lead and found a similar device on the human mage. “Now you can take them.”

“What are those, sir?” one of the guards asked.

“Tech magic devices,” Spin replied, as he switched the one in his hands off.. “We’ve encountered them before. They absorb excess energy when translocating allowing one to do so without getting knocked out in the process. They also allow the caster to translocate a magic-null person.” He was about to add, “like Her Majesty,” but stopped himself in time. It was not exactly a secret that Ilyana was magic-null, but it was also not something that had been widely announced either.”

“We will need those as evidence, sir,” the guard told him.

“No problem,” Spin nodded handing his to the man. “I already have a collection of these things anyway. “Just don’t let those two wake up outside a null magic field. Even without these they could get away.”

“Not this one,” Twist replied, indicating the human mage. “He’s dead. Her Majesty killed him with that one blow. Even Granomish women are very strong and I doubt she was holding back.”

“Good for her,” Spin nodded, “but if these two were trying to kidnap her…”

“Were they?” Twist wondered.

“I blocked the translocation,” Spin replied.

“I think that might have been an attempt to get away,” Twist told him. “The job was going sour and I think the crispy Orente here figured if he could translocate her from here, he could kill her more safely. But maybe I’m wrong. If this one survives maybe we can ask. I didn’t realize our technique would burn a blocked mage.”

“Not the way we practiced it,” Spin replied. “I just added something for all that extra energy to do.”

“I see,” Twist nodded. “Well, either way we need to find a way to keep other mages from translocating in and out of the palace.”

“I have an idea for a tech magic device,” Spin told her, “but we shall have to be on Alert during the ball this evening.”

Ten

“Sorry to have kept you waiting, gentlemen,” Spin told the three Granomish tech mages as he rushed into the meeting room the next morning. “Uh, and lady. I hope the breakfast was to your satisfaction?”

The Coronation Ball that evening had gone smoothly enough, but like all such events it ran late into the night and Spin, Twist and the other mages could not go to bed until it was over. Consequently, Spin had only been asleep for two hours before one of Oceanvine’s Girls was urging him to wake up for his early morning appointment.

At first Spin had forgotten all about wanting to meet with the best tech mages in Querna, but it soon came back to him. Following the incident outside the palace, Mila had demanded reports from both Spin and Twist. Spin had outlined an idea but told her he would have to consult with some top-notch tech mages to see if it could be done. Mila replied that she would have the people he needed on hand in time for breakfast.

“It would be nice to know why we were rounded up and brought here,” one of the men told him. Mila had found two men, Sanzo Markovic and Feodore Yolensk and one woman, Sandra Teonova and sometime around dawn had them escorted to the palace.

“Rounded up?” Spin asked. “I only asked to be able to meet with the best tech mages in the city. Please let me have a sip of coffee and I shall explain.” There were two women in the room he recognized as Oceanvine’s Girls but who were pretending to be serving maids. One filled his cup as he thanked her. He took a sip and helped himself to a pastry, but before taking a bite introduced himself. He managed to taste the pastry and get another sip of coffee while the three told him who they were.

“Well, I certainly am sorry if you were alarmed,” Spin apologized again.

“Being woken up by the Royal Guards and hauled off to the palace wasn’t exactly on my bucket list, Master Spinnaker,” Doctor Teonova told him tartly. “I took the tour back in high school and figured that was the last time I would ever be here.”

“Life can be surprising, Doctor,” Spin replied. “Please allow me to fill you in.” He finished the pastry and plunged on. “You may be aware that yesterday afternoon, following the coronation there was an attempt on Her Majesty.”

“Is that what happened?” Markovic asked. “It was hard to tell for certain. The cameras were burned out by the initial flash so we only had the rather excited report of the commentator. Her Majesty is all right?”

“Queen Ilyana is fine,” Spin replied, “and handled one of her attackers by herself. My wife, Islandtwist, and I, along with some other mages handled the other one, but we are concerned that other attacks by translocation might take place and would like to stop that completely.”

“A simple wide-area null magic field that encompasses the palace would do that,” Doctor Yolensk considered.

“It would render an attacking mage powerless, but would not stop them from translocating into the affected area,” Doctor Teonova disagreed. “For that matter if their goal is to kill, they could simply translocate a bomb.”

“I had not thought of that,” Spin admitted. “That makes this project all the more important.”

“Do you know who sent the two attackers yesterday?” Teonova asked.

“No,” Spin shook his head. “One was killed instantly and the other died two hours later although the Sons and Daughters of Maiyim are suspected. To tell the truth, however, they may well have not known who they were really working for. We have had to deal with other low-level members of that organization and their employees and they rarely know anything that could help us find the ones on top. That’s not at issue today, though. One of my students…”

Just then Seastar arrived in the room. “Sorry I’m late,” she told them all. “Twist just told me I was supposed to be here.”

“That’s all right,” Spin chuckled. “She didn’t tell me at all. Folks, this is the student I was talking about, Apprentice Seastar. She was the one who thought up a way to block translocation spells. With experimentation we discovered that the easiest way to do that would be to redirect the energy, sending the translocator somewhere other than he or she intends. Yesterday, I sent one of the two mages on a round trip so when he tried to leave with the queen, they ended up right where they started, but they could have gone almost anywhere. I would like to shield the palace with a device that would deflect all attempts at translocation in or out. Can that be done?”

“Any spell can be programmed into a tech magic device, Master Spinnaker,” Markovic responded, “as I am sure you know. I do know who you are and have read some of the articles you published. Weren’t you also the one who figured out how to transmit a cure for the Hook via the electromagnetic grid in Rjalkatyp?”

“I had a lot of help with that,” Spin admitted modestly. “The basic idea was mine, but I am not a tech mage. I could only assist in the implementation.”

“But you cast the spell that was programmed into that device, didn’t you?”

“I have done that sort of thing a few times,” Spin admitted. “I’m told I am fairly good at it for someone not trained in tech magic, but I do know there are limits to any form of magic. That is why I am asking if this can be done. Can we shield the entire palace?”

“We shall need to know the nature of the spell before we can give you a good answer,” Yolensk replied. “Does it transmit by a single string? Can it be modified into a field? We shall need to study this in a laboratory to find the best way to do what you want.”

“Then let’s get to a lab,” Spin suggested. “There must be one or two available at the University and you are all faculty members, right? Seastar, before we go, you might want to grab something to eat.”

“I got up early and ate in the kitchen,” Seastar laughed. “The food is fresher and in more variety down there. The chef is always trying new things, you know. Anyway, that’s why it took so long for Twist to find me.”

An hour later, they had moved to Doctor Markovic’s lab at the University where the other two doctors brought in various measuring and recording devices as Spin and Seastar demonstrated how they blocked translocation spells. “Well, this is obviously a spell string interaction and more line-oriented than most modern magic,” Doctor Teonova remarked, “but I wonder if your spell can be triggered by a ward, perhaps?”

“I haven’t tried that,” Spin replied. “I know that not all spells are ward-compatible, though most are.”

“Being so line-oriented,” Doctor Markovic considered, “it is questionable as to whether this one is, but we won’t know for certain until we try it.”

Spin sighed, “Twist is much better at wards than I am and this is the sort of thing she and I generally do cooperatively.”

“You do cooperative magic?” Teonova asked. “That is very dangerous.”

“I’ve heard that,” Spin replied, “but Twist and I have a special affinity that way.”

“I could try,” Seastar offered.

“You aren’t quite up to trying that yet, Marliese,” Spin told her, “and the technique is especially dangerous when the two mages cooperating are too far apart in training and ability. Maybe, I can do it solo, though.”

Spin worked at the ward he wanted, but when they experimented with it, it would only work when a translocation spell string approached from a specific direction. It was not until late afternoon, when Spin had Twist join them that they finally worked out a ward that could deflect translocations from any angle.

“That was tough!” Twist remarked. “It was like casting dozens of spells at once. I doubt any one mage could do that. To tell the truth, I’m a little surprised we managed it.”

“I have it recorded for repetition and analysis,” Doctor Yolensk reported. “We should have a device ready for field testing tomorrow morning. If it works as well as I predict, we can produce one that will encompass the entire palace.”

On his return the next morning, Spin learned there had been a major problem in the manufacture of the planned device. “It’s programmed well enough,” Teonova told him. “All the readings assure us of that, but we cannot activate the spell contained in the device – not in the usual way at least.”

“What do you mean?” Spin asked.

“As you know, tech magic devices generally have a physical switch to turn them on and off,” Teonova replied. “Sometimes a spell cannot be activated that way, though. It takes a mage to do that.”

“Okay,” Spin nodded. “How do I activate it?”

“By casting the same spell contained within the device while concentrating on the area of effect you desire,” she replied.

“You mean I need Twist here again this morning?” Spin asked. “Commandant Garensk didn’t like it yesterday when Twist had to leave the queen’s side. Right now our team of mages is all that protects her from another translocation attack. No one has tried that yet, but we did catch a man pretending to be a servant last night. We think he was trying to poison Her Majesty, but he committed suicide on discovery.”

“I do not think you will need to cast the entire spell,” Teonova replied, “at least not in its entire complexity. The simplified version you were able to cast on your own yesterday should be enough to activate the complete spell. That is how we generally work around this sort of thing. In theory any of us could activate it, but only you are accomplished enough to cast this particular spell.”

“I’ll give it a shot,” Spin told her, “but for a production model, shouldn’t the desired area of effect be preprogrammed in?”

Teonova considered that and then reluctantly admitted as though she should have thought of it first, “Yes, that is a good idea and we can add that spell module on the next beta model.”

“All right,” Spin nodded. “Shall we go for a cube ward ten feet on a side?” Teonova nodded and Spin went to work. A few moments later there was a golden shimmering ward in the center of the room. Now I’ll try translocating through it,” he told them.

“Wait!” Markovic stopped him. “Don’t translocate yourself!”

“Why not?” Spin asked. “I’ve done it before.”

“We have not yet calibrated how far a translocator will be displaced,” The doctor explained. “We don’t know where you might show up. It could be in the middle of a wall, for example.”

“That’s pretty dangerous,” Spin admitted. “What’s to say that if I translocate some small object it won’t materialize inside one of us?”

“The direction of displacement is not random,” Doctor Yolensk explained. “We have programed it to reflect off the sides of the ward’s walls as though it is a ray of light reflected by a mirror. The angle of displacement is determined by the angle of the spell string’s approach. But until we experiment we will not know how far someone would be reflected.”

“I suspect it depends on the amount of energy put into the translocation spell,” Spin replied. “Oh, wait. The translocation spell only has enough energy in it to deliver the castor, or his intended object to the desired location. The furthest it would bounce should be the distance from the intercepting ward to the target location.”

“But you are forgetting that you added power to the spell when you set up the return loop,” Teonova reminded him. “That is necessary, in fact, to make this work. What we need to do now is calibrate. We have some small soft rubber balls you can translocate.”

“Okay,” Spin nodded seeing a box of red balls on a laboratory counter nearby, “I must say that having one of those end up inside someone could still be fatal. What if I put too much power into the spell? Would they go even further away?”

“It seems odd that such an accomplished mage with contributions in both traditional and tech magic would not be aware of how his own spells work,” Teonova commented dryly. “No matter how much energy you gather, the translocation spell only actually uses as much as it needs to translocate its object. That is why you have spell shock from being translocated. The excess energy knocks you out. It you were to cast the spell perfectly there would be no excess and a living being would not be stunned by being translocated. Of course, getting that perfect is probably impossible and failing to put enough power into the spell would kill you, wouldn’t it?”

“It’s not an area I care to experiment in.” Spin admitted. Privately, he thought he understood how the gods could translocate a person without injury to themselves or the person being moved. They just did it perfectly. Well, they are the Gods, after all.

Spin picked up three of the balls in one hand and started juggling them as he got his thoughts in order and calculated the angle of displacement. This time, he realized he would not need to use the golden staff to assist him since spell shock would not be an issue with an inanimate object and then with perhaps just a bit too much showmanship, still juggling the balls, he translocated them, one at a time, to the center of the area within the golden cube-shaped ward.

“What the hell?” they heard someone shout from the next room. “Who’s playing silly buggers?”

“Normally, I’d say we have a name for this new game,” Spin grinned, “but I think that’s been taken.” Teonova rushed off to apologize to their neighbor and to retrieve the balls.

“That looked like fun!” Seastar enthused. “When will I be able to do that?”

“Oops!” Spin remarked, embarrassed. “I forgot you were here and I was showing off. Marliese, translocation is a very difficult and dangerous spell. I would appreciate it if you did not try it until you are at least a journeyman and even then not without supervision.”

“It doesn’t look that hard,” Seastar replied.

“Looks can be deceiving,” Spin told her, “and it is easy to put too much of your own personal energy into it. It is not one of those spells in which you can use only external energy, but no one has enough personal energy to do it all. You’re getting pretty good, but you have not yet learned to mix sources like that. One of the key tricks in translocation is using your personal energy but constantly replenishing it, especially if you plan to cast the spell more than once.”

“I like when you tell me not to do something,” Seastar smiled in response.

“You do?” Spin asked. “Why?”

“You don’t just say, ‘No.’ You tell me why it’s a bad idea,” Seastar replied. “Dean Moonsong only tells us we’re not ready for something and refuses to go on.”

“Hah!” Spin laughed. “Moonsong doesn’t think anyone is ever ready for the more advanced magic. She would stop her fellow wizards, if she could sometimes.”

“Twist does that sometimes too,” Seastar admitted. “Not all the time, but you can tell she thinks even explaining why would be dangerous. But you not only stop me from trying something I am not ready for, you make it a lesson in magic theory. I might not be ready, but when you finish explaining I know why I am not ready and understand why trying it on my own is so dangerous. So, thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Seastar,” Spin nodded. “The thing is, translocation is not a technically hard spell to cast, at least not once you have done it a few times and picked up the trick. Getting it right the first time can take hours or days. But, hey! You’ll be a journeywoman by this time next year.”

“Then I can learn translocation?” she asked expectantly.

“Perhaps,” Spin hedged. “We’ll see how you do on the aptitude tests, though I doubt that will be a problem. It’s just that your abilities might incline you toward other forms of magic. That doesn’t mean you can’t learn to do a bit of everything, but some spells are going to come easier to you. How are you doing with your staff, for example.”

“Twist says I’m a natural,” Seastar replied, “but I keep forgetting to keep it properly charged.

“It’s something you need to do consciously,” Spin told her. “It’s not like spinning a coin around your head that you can do subconsciously after a while. You have to actually look at the staff once in a while and also to keep in mind there is no one perfect level of charge. It all depends on what you are trying to do. If you are using the staff to drain off excess energy, the less charged up it is the better, though there are ways to drain it off quickly when you have to.”

“You mean like those blocks of crystal quartz you created in Sonatrie?” Seastar asked.

“Doing that used up a lot of Casey’s demonic magic in a hurry,” Spin told her, “but creation magic is even more complex and dangerous than translocation.”

“So everyone tells me,” Seastar nodded, “but then, why did you use it?”

“E equals em cee squared,” Spin replied. “Turning energy into matter uses up a heck of a lot of E in very short order. And it seemed safer to the general area than letting it off as heat of a fountain of lightning as Silverwind reputedly did once.”

“Did you know they rebuilt the Hall of Legislation with all those blocks you created?” Seastar asked.

“Was that their attempt at a transparent government?” Spin smirked.

“Probably,” Seastar laughed delightedly. “That might have been the symbolism they used to explain it, but Daddy says it was just that they had to do something with all those blocks and it would have been a waste not to use them to rebuild.”

“I have analyzed the data we got,” Markovic told them. “I think the question is, how far away do you want to throw someone who tries to translocate into the palace?”

“Far enough, I think, that they will not try to come back,” Spin told him. “Also if we only toss them one hundred yards or so, they might try to get in some other way, like, by climbing the wall or slipping in through the kitchens. That’s why I wanted this test ward to be cubic and not spherical. The sphere would have been easier, but anyone can just walk through this particular ward. Once inside they could translocate the rest of the way so it must conform to the shape of the actual walls of the palace We have security at all known entrances and a few that most don’t know exist, but anyone can make a mistake. A mile or so should be sufficiently daunting.”

“I can program that,” Marcovic assured him, “but I need some more tests.” He fiddled with some controls and the golden ward vanished. A few minutes later it reappeared. He got up and walked through the ward and out again and then drew a wide circle on the floor near the far wall. “Could you shoot another three balls at the ward?” he requested as he walked back to his controls.

“You really can just walk through the ward,” Seastar mavelled.

“Of course,” Teonova nodded from where she was analyzing the first three balls for spell traces. This ward is not triggered by physical contact, only by spell strings of magical energy.”

“All spell strings?” Seastar asked, “Not just translocation spells?”

“There is no physical difference between a spell string of, say, a fireball spell, from one of translocation,” Teonova informed her.

“So this ward is a general purpose one against all magical forms of attack,” Seastar concluded.

“In theory,” Teonova replied, “So long as the energy of the spell attacking it is not greater than contained within the tech magic battery that powers it.”

“Let’s make it a big power source then,” Spin suggested as he translocated another three balls. All three reappeared over and dropped into the chalk circle Doctor Markovic had marked on the floor. “I guess that’s close enough. I assume you would like to try a few more times?”

“If you don’t mind,” Markovic replied.

“Not at all.”

“I already intended to attach it to an uninterruptable power supply or UPS,” Doctor Yolensk replied.

“How does that work?” Seastar asked.

He ran his left hand through almost non-existent hair on top of his bald white head. “It’s fairly simple. The device is a standard tech magic battery but it is constantly recharged by electricity. It is a fairly easy thing to convert electricity to magical energy, you see, so the basic device stays at optimum power.”

“So long as the power station doesn’t go off-line,” Seastar noted.

“True,” Yolensk admitted, “but this ward will not drain the backup power very quickly unless attacked. We will use the largest commercially available UPS to back this one up. That should be large enough to keep the lights on in the palace for hours.”

“That should be good enough,” Spin nodded. “They already have one like that to power the physical wards that are raised in case of Tzali attack, but let’s keep the two systems separate from each other.”

“Is the palace likely to be attacked both magically and physically at once?” Teonova asked. “I understood that Tzali technology is not based on magic and having dual backups would keep palace defenses up twice as long.”

“The Tzali have been in contact with the Sons and Daughters of Maiyim who do use magic,” Spin replied. “I doubt they really trust the Sons and Daughters, though. From a Tzali perspective anyone who would betray their own species would have no trouble betraying someone else’s, but the two groups are probably using each other for now. If they were to stage a collaborative attack, one system might drain the resources of the other.”

“That’s assuming the military failed to stop a Tzali attack before it reached the palace,” Seastar pointed out.

“Anything can happen, Spin shot back, “but, Doctors, you are in a better position to evaluate such things than I. Take a look at what is already in place and if you think it best to join the two power systems, do it.”

“I am ready for some more tests,” Markovic told him. “One more round and then we can start programming a ward the size and shape of the palace walls.”

Eleven

“We have decided to call it a ‘Diverter,’ Your Majesty,” Spin told Ilyana over dinner a week later after it had been installed. “It will also protect you against other forms of magical attack, but it has limits so we are not advertising that aspect.” They were hardly alone and so had to speak formally.

“We would have called it the ‘Spinnaker Field,’ to honor you,” Ilyana replied.

“It was a team effort, Your Majesty,” Spin told her. “It would not be fair to give me the sole credit. Seastar came up with the original idea that we all developed. Doctors Markovic, Yolensk and Teonova believe that with further work they can divert any attempt to translocate into the palace to a null magic holding cell instead, but that will take more work. I made sure there were at least three wizards in the University who understood the spell and would be able to activate any improved devices. In the meantime, we have sent the plans for making more such devices to all our allies and I have promised King Othon to assist in the installation of a diverter in his palace as well.”

“You are already a member of the Order of the Silver Stay, Sir Spinnaker,” Ilyana considered, “so we shall have to consider another appropriate way to reward you.”

“Knighthoods for the rest of the team would more than satisfy me,” Spin suggested.

“Of course,” Ilyana nodded. “However, you and Twist and, indeed, all of your party have done us incalculable service we can never fully repay. Without you all, we might not be the monarch of Granom.”

“Heh,” Spin chuckled, glancing over at Alexai, “I suspect your husband might have had more than one or two backup plans along those lines.”

“I was trying to come up with some,” the prince consort admitted easily, “but I am not certain any would have worked as well had we not managed to get married. It was Her Majesty’s idea to be wed in the presence of her grandfather that inspired me on the course I took. I saw then and there that she was the only rightful monarch of Granom and that my job was to see her crowned.”

“You could have been king,” Twist pointed out from Spin’s other side.

“I never wanted to be king,” Alexai shook his head. “I wanted to be Ilyana’s husband. The possibility of kingship was just the price I was willing to pay if there had been no recourse. So when are you all leaving?”

“Commandant Garensk pulled a few strings and found a military flight headed for an Alliance base on Fehl in the morning,” Spin replied. “From there, King Othon has a jet waiting to rush us straight to Sloane Naval Air Base outside Randona. Given the nature of both planes, I do not expect to sleep much in the air although I am told experienced military men and women have no trouble nodding off. Maybe I’ll pick up the knack, but I doubt it.”

“And Twist,” Ilyana cut in, “I also want you to know how much I appreciate the work you did on the physical wards that protect this palace. I also understand that Journeywoman Slipstream and Pulac-pa were of great assistance to Oceanvine’s Girls and the Royal Guards. Truly, you were all quite busy on my behalf and have my undying thanks.”

“Well, perhaps next time we can make it a purely social visit,” Twist shrugged.

“No promises though, Your Majesty,” Spin added with a grin. “Somehow, I haven’t had a purely recreational trip since I met Twist.”

“That’s what you get for being such a trouble magnet,” Twist teased him. “It’s probably all your fault for going on a quest to meet Aritos.”

“Are you kidding?” Alexai asked.

“Not at all,” Spin replied, thinking fast. “I got it in my head that a marriage counsellor in Midon was secretly Aritos and decided to sail my boat there to meet him.”

“Did you?” Ilyana asked.

“I met him and his wife,” Spin admitted. “Nice couple, really. After Twist and I made our way around Rallena, we eventually showed up in Horalia. That’s where we helped to rescue the Duke’s son when he was kidnaped. It was our first headline together. A lot has happened since then.”

The flight to Fehl was as rough as Spin had feared. Caught heading into a storm the pilot had chosen to try to rise above the clouds, but that proved impossible. The turbulence tossed the plane up, down and side to side. Looking around after getting thrown off of his seat, Spin caught Pulac-pa snoring as he stretched out across one of the benches. How the Tzal managed to keep from falling off, Spin was at a loss to say. A quick inspection proved he was not using magic to assist him, However when Spin glared at the women, who were laughing at him, he noticed they were using wards to not only keep them steady but to cushion them from the bumps.

After landing, they barely had time to get their feet on firm ground they were rushed across the tarmac toward another jet, this one painted the gray of Emmine’s navy. To Spin’s delight this one turned out to be Admiral Wondren’s personal transport that King Othon had ordered to Fehl just to pick them up. This plane’s interior was everything the Granomish jet had not been and the flight into Sloane Base was smooth, swift and catered. Arriving on Rallena, they were led to one more flight on the royal helicopter, which dropped them off in the courtyard of Randona Palace.

There had been changes here since their last visit. As in Querna, the royal palace was protected against physical attack by a large dome-shaped ward. Twist noticed that just a small window in the ward had been opened to allow their helicopter in and as it shut again above them, she made a note to find out how that was done. From the ground, however you could not tell the ward was there so Twist had to make another mental note on that count. She suspected she would have to visit friends at Randona University very soon.

Another change, far more profound, had taken place in King Othon. Outside his personal apartments, the Royal Guards never allowed him out of their sight. “Sir Spinnaker, Lady Islandtwist!” Othon shouted above the noise of the helicopter as it lifted up from the ground behind them. “Welcome back!”

“It’s nice to be back, Your Royal Majesty,” Spin shouted back at his king, spotting the cadre of guards practically cocooning their monarch. Othon was not looking as happy as he tried to sound and Spin realized that the king had probably not been allowed to be just “Othon” with anyone other than his wife in weeks. He also looked like he had aged well beyond his thirty-three years since they had spoken in Olen. The king’s discomfort was confirmed when one of the guards stepped between the Othon and Spin when Othon held out his hand.

“That will not do, sir!” Othon growled at the guard’s over protectiveness. “When a king offers his hand, he expects it to be taken, not blocked by a third party.”

“Your Majesty,” was the guard’s closest to an apology but he still did not stand aside.

“We shall discuss this later, sir,” Othon told him coldly. “You are dismissed.”

“These people have not yet been cleared, Your Majesty,” the guard maintained. “They are not even wearing gloves in your presence.”

“The risk, if risk there be in grasping the hand of a close personal friend, is mine to assess and take. Not yours, sir,” Othon argued. “We shall not be bullied or coddled by our own guards within our own home. Any further resistance will be considered treasonous. And, for your information, it is traditional for a mage to be barehanded in the presence of royalty. If you do not believe us, we suggest setting up an appointment with our Minister of Protocol.” The guard looked hurt by his king’s words, but finally drew aside. “You see what I have to deal with?” Othon told Spin as they grasped hands at last.

“I am sure he was only following orders, Your Majesty,” Spin replied cautiously.

“Sir Spinnaker,” Othon replied and indicated the guard, “Our Captain of Guards, Colonel Barris Theld.” Spin and Theld nodded to each other. “His orders supposedly come from us and if he had not yet cleared your party, he should not have allowed you into the palace. Colonel, if you insisted on physically examining visitors in the future, you will please do so before they arrive in our presence.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Theld nodded.

“You are dismissed for now,” Othon repeated and Theld bowed stiffly before moving off. The other guards, however stayed around the king. “I swear the next thing they’ll do is bring back food tasters. Why they don’t have us travel with a canary in case someone tries to poison my air, is a mystery, but at least we are spared that indignity.”

“I take it, Your Majesty,” Twist commented, “that the guards by your side are new?”

“They used to be happy to guard us with just enough stealth to maintain the illusion of our freedom,” Othon replied, “instead of living inside my pants with me, but do come inside. I want your reports.”

“I think Twist and the others can fill you in, Your Majesty,” Spin told him. “Perhaps I ought to work on the new warding device?”

“If it were ready, we would desire that very much,” Othon replied, leading them all into the palace. “However, we are told it will not be here for another hour or two. Are you hungry? You must be tired.”

“We managed to nap on the plane,” Twist replied. One of the guards glared at her for not tacking on “Your Majesty” to the sentence, but she ignored him. “but if Your Majesty is hungry, it should be our honor to dine with you.”

Othon looked as though he was going to laugh at Twist’s wording, but he managed to just give her a thin smile. “Yes, well, we do believe coffee and something from the kitchen would be in order. See to it, please,” he told one of the remaining guards. The man nodded and rushed off. Finally, when they found a small room with a conference table, the guards allowed Othon to be alone with the mages.

“They’ll watch us by camera, of course,” Othon informed them, “but they have always done that.”

“How long has this been going on, Your Majesty?” Pulac-pa asked.

“Ever since the attempt on Queen Ilyana on her coronation day,” Othon replied. “It was feared that if the Sons and Daughters of Maiyim would try to capture Ilyana, they might make a similar attempt here. So now I can’t move without bumping into a guard.”

“I can’t blame them for reacting that way,” Spin replied. “It is not the first time the Sons and Daughters have tried to kidnap Her Majesty.”

“Perhaps,”Othon nodded. “Well, once we have your anti-teleport spell in place, maybe they’ll give me a little more room to breathe in.”

“We call it a diverter,” Spin chuckled, but decided not to correct Othon by explaining that the correct word was translocate.”

“Of course,” Othon nodded. “So tell me everything.”

They spent the next two hours describing everything that had happened on their way to Querna and then in Querna itself. “It doesn’t sound like our royal cousin is enjoying any more freedom than we are,” Othon observed, but at least her guards are easier on the eyes. “I wonder why none of my guards are women, come to think about it.”

“Your Queen has female guards, Your Majesty,” Slipstream pointed out. “Perhaps it was thought that it might damage your, uh, masculine dignity to be seen being protected by women.”

“A millennium and a half ago we would have been expected to have several wives and dozens of concubines,” Othon replied. “Somehow being surrounded by women did not hurt the ‘masculine dignity’ of my ancestors.”

“That’s rather different,” Slipstream replied, “don’t you think, Your Majesty?”

“Perhaps,” Othon sighed, “but I seriously doubt having one or two women as guards would belittle my stature and I seriously doubt anyone would think I was fooling around with them. Some of those women are tougher than my guards anyway. Oh, never mind. I guess this is just the way things are. I do have two Tzali among the royal guards, though. They were originally hired as consultants, but they are darned good at hand-to hand work as well.”

“I should hope so, Your Majesty,” Pulac-pa laughed. “I trained them. That reminds me I should keep them informed as well. Would you like me to brief the entire force of royal guards while I am here?”

“That would be appreciated,” Othon nodded. There was a knock on the door to their room. “Come!” the king commanded.

A young women in the green and yellow royal livery of Emmine entered. “Your Majesty,” she announced. “The tech mages are here.”

“Great!” Spin remarked, getting to his feet. He started toward the door and only belatedly turned to bow toward the king.

Othon laughed and waved him off with, “Oh, go ahead. We’ll all rest easier once the new toy is functioning.”

Two days after the diverter had been put on line, two men, a human and a Granom were found floating in Randona’s harbor, apparently drowned. Files from the database kept by His Majesty’s Ministry of Investigation showed them to be mages, one of whom had been known to have been employed by a company owned by a known middle-ranked member of the Sons and Daughters of Maiyim. There had been no way to tell for certain, but the conclusion was that they had been attempting to translocate into the palace. A subsequent search inside the palace revealed that a room in the palace basement had been used as an entry point and that a store of high tech weapons had been cached there.

“Looks like we got that ward up just in time,” Pulac-pa remarked when he saw all the weapons in the room. “What do you think they were up to?”

“Not a simple abduction,” Spin decided. “They didn’t need all this if that had been the plan. The winter ball is still over a month away, but they may have been planning some sort of disruption then. Maybe not. I have a hard time thinking like the Sons and Daughters.”

“What would happen if the entire Royal family were killed?” Pulac-pa asked. “To whom would the crown go?”

“Uh, Freddy knows the Order of Precedence better than I do,” Spin admitted.

“The next in line after Their Majesties’ children,” Colonel Theld informed them, “would be His Grace, the Duke of Horalia. I am not sure who is next after that. One of the Earls, I believe, but most of them would be here for the Winter Ball.”

“If that was the goal it would have been messy,” Spin told him. “Better keep an eye out for other ways into the palace though. I know your security wards would have detected weapons like these had someone tried to carry them in the normal way, but there may be other weaknesses. Glad we caught this one though.”

“We’ll search the rest of the palace,” Theld told him, “just in case they had more than one cache.”

“How many would they need?” Spin asked. “There’s enough for a small army in here.”

“A small platoon at most,” Theld corrected him, “but against a hall full of unarmed nobles this is more than enough. However, I would be neglectful if I did not continue the search.”

It took another two days, but when, in the end, they found no other signs of intrusion, Spin decided it was time to go home, so he made his farewells, rented a hopper and they all flew back to Olen. That did not stop them from having to go over everything once more with Freddy, but at least they could do that on board Maiyim Bourne where the atmosphere was more comfortable and the refreshments even better tasting that anything either palace could provide.

Part 3 – Kennek Ferslakach

One

Twist and Spin had almost six months of “normality” such as it was, on their return to Olen. With spring in the air for the second time in the same calendar year, Twist was enjoying a stroll across the sprawling campus, the scent of lilacs and salt air mixing in her nostrils. This was her favorite season, and she did her best to enjoy it as much as she could.

In the months since Ilyana’s coronation, the war had dragged on into a vicious stalemate. Tzali raids continued to devastate minor targets, but the really important places and people were too well-protected and many Tzali fighters were shot out of the sky. However, attempts to attack the Tzali bases on Robander’s Island and the asteroid base, now, permanently a second moon to Maiyim, were similarly repulsed. Some experts had feared the asteroid would have major consequences to the tidal situation on Maiyim, but it turned out they had miscalculated. The new moon, barely more than a dot of varying brightness in the sky, did have a small and measurable effect, but not one the casual observer would notice, even at times of lunar high tides.

Twist finally reached her goal, the Olen Student Center where she entered the ground floor and turned left into the cafeteria. Eating on board Maiyim Bourne was her preference, but during the day that was a bit far to walk and, besides, it would have been antisocial for her not to mix with her students and fellow faculty members.

She returned the greetings from several directions with smiles and waves, but made her way straight to the table where Spin was playing Chess with Pulac-pa. The Tzal had learned the game with amazing rapidity and the two frequently played, often while discussing a myriad of other matters although at the moment they were intent on their game which they played with the understanding that all moves would be made in fifteen seconds or less.

Like many of the students here, Twist was wearing the unofficial school uniform; a bright floral print blouse from Bellinen over a cream-colored skirt. The men’s version, of course, meant a similar shirt over trousers, although in the last few years Spin had been leading the way toward wearing the same shirt over jeans, which was the way he and the Tzal were dressed at the moment. “Shouldn’t you be grading final exams?” Twist asked Spin,

“I finished them earlier this morning,” Spin replied, moving his knight, “Check.”

“That was fast,” Twist remarked.

“I learned my lesson last year,” Spin chuckled as Pulac-pa captured the knight with his queen. “No waiting until the last minute any more. Freddy has a tendency to pop in with an emergency trip to the other side of the world whenever I relax my guard.”

“Check,” Pulac-pa told him when he could get a word in.

Spin glanced at the board and conceded, “…and mate in your next move. Good game. Shall we set them up again?”

“Later maybe,” Pulac-pa shook his head. “I promised Slipstream I’d go running with her. I’ll see you later.”

“You really finished all those exams?” Twist pressed.

“I was up early this morning,” Spin replied. “Ask Maiyim if you don’t believe me. I brought up all the students’ answers on the boat’s terminal and went through them. They were all essay questions and I was more interested in content than form. It’s almost as easy as grading true-false once you know what you are looking for. Besides, I only had fifteen students in that class this semester.”

“Enrollment is down because of the war,” Twist nodded. “My two classes this session weren’t much larger.” A man and woman, dressed in dark, printed t-shirts and jeans entered the cafeteria just then and paused to look around. Twist glanced at them briefly. Dressed as they were, they stood out in this crowd of floral shirts, but she shrugged and returned her attention to her conversation with Spin. “I just finished grading my exams too. We should probably find out what Freddy has in mind for us this summer. He’s been too quiet so far.”

“Maybe he’s finally realized we’re not on his staff,” Spin told her. He too noticed the couple as being different but had his mind on what they were talking about. “Besides we have never had to go looking for trouble, it finds us without any assistance.”

“I am not sure I’ve been called ‘trouble’ since I was a child,” the man in the dark t-shirt told them.

“Do I know you?” Spin asked.

“Your Majesties!” Twist recognized them first. She got up and started to bow, but Othon stopped her.

“I appreciate the courtesy, my lady, but we came to Olen Campus in this manner to avoid the usual courtly procedures. So instead we are visiting our, and your, cousin, Freddy.”

“You mean you are visiting Olen right now, rather than standing around the Student Building?” Spin asked. He had gotten out of his seat as well, but on seeing the king halt Twist’s action he stopped midway and then sat back down.

“Precisely,” Othon told him. “You grasp my meaning well, Spin.”

“So, are these the new royal robes this season?”

“We had hoped that by dressing as students,” Queen Ginevre replied, “we might not cause a commotion or be noticed much as we crossed your campus.”

“You might have fit in at the University,” Twist smiled, “but around here you should have worn Bellinen silk. So, how may we serve you?”

“I thought you weren’t looking for trouble?” Othon laughed.

“And yet, here you are,” Spin shot back and looked around the cafeteria. They were attracting attention. “But, perhaps you might prefer someplace more private. Why don’t we move over to Maiyim Bourne?”

“We don’t really have the time,” Othon started to say, but Ginevre cut him off.

“That would be lovely!” she replied enthusiastically. “I have only ever seen the replica at the royal museum and no one boards that one. Besides after all the stories I have heard…”

“Very well,” Othon surrendered. Their marriage had been one of political necessity, but through the years love had developed anyway. He could not bring himself to disappoint his wife and the mother of his children even if the matter were urgent.

“Our trip to Olen is not really secret,” Ginevre told Twist as they walked toward the wharf, “but we came without the usual public announcements and fanfare. I suppose I should have stayed in Randona, but I wanted to visit with Xenia.”

“Freddy’s wife,” Twist nodded. “Yes, I like her too. She’s too good for my cousin, but what can you do?”

Ginevre laughed, “Oh Freddy isn’t that bad, but Xenia and I have managed to become close. Since the war began I have been too isolated. My ladies-in-waiting, who might normally be companions are a bit too serious and formal for me to develop a really warm relationship and poor Xenia might have married well, but she left everyone she knew in Sutheria when she came here. So, when Freddy brought her with him to Randona we got to know each other. To tell the truth, I think we have scandalized the palace servants a few times. The Sutherians do not quite have the same notions of how a lady behaves as opposed to a man and I find her attitudes quite refreshing.”

“She throws a fun party too,” Twist chuckled, taking the first step up and on to the wharf, “not that we can do much of that while the war is on.”

“We all find what entertainment we might,” Ginevre replied, then spotted Maiyim Bourne resting at the end of the dock, bobbing slightly on the waves. “There she is!” the queen exclaimed and walked ahead of the others. She paused before stepping aboard, however. “Permission to come aboard?” she asked uncertainly.

“Permission granted, Your Majesty” Maiyim told her, suddenly appearing. She looked like the twenty-something year old Oceanvine the Younger with long black hair. While she was actually just a holographic image, she appeared to be wearing the same clothing Twist was save that Maiyim’s hands were covered by white gloves. “Welcome aboard.”

“You’re Maiyim, aren’t you?” Ginevre asked.

“My fame precedes me, I see,” Maiyim laughed, then turned to greet Othon, “Welcome back, Your Majesty.”

“It’s nice to see you again, Maiyim,” Othon replied politely. “You are well?”

“Shipshape!” Maiyim replied with a grin.

“I don’t suppose Pulac-pa is on board at the moment?” Othon asked. “I had hoped to speak with him as well.”

“He went out for a jog with Slipstream just before you arrived,” Twist told him.

“I can call him for you,” Maiyim volunteered. A moment later she added, “He says he will be here in a few minutes. “Oh, you should know Seastar and Foxglove are below.”

“I had in mind only talking to the three of you,” Othon replied, “but if Slipstream arrives with Pulac-pa, I suppose that will be your full team, right?”

“The usual core of it anyway,” Spin replied. “We’ve had other students over the years who have gone on to form their own teams of mages on various projects. With the Tzali approaching we were taking the long view and making sure as many mages were as ready as possible.” He did not add that he and Twist had been doing that even before the rest of the world knew the Tzali even existed.

“Just as well,” Othon nodded. “Let’s go below and talk then.”

Seastar and Foxglove were sitting at the table, playing a game in three dimensions that involved nine stones on each side. The trick was that while Maiyim projected the board, or area of play with lines in the air, the two mages had to levitate their pieces into place and keep them there. “What are you playing?” the queen asked, betraying her confusion.

“Oh,” Seastar replied, turning just enough to show she was not intentionally snubbing the person she was talking to, but obviously trying to keep her mind on the task at hand, “it’s just a variant on Nine Man’s Morris. Foxglove taught it to me.”

“It’s a training exercise one of my teachers in Querna came up with,” the Orente explained. “It’s pretty challenging to keep everything in the air at once and then also play the game.”

“I think you’ll have to put the game aside for a while,” Twist told them. “I believe you met Their Majesties a few months ago in Rondona?”

Seastar and Foxglove scrambled to their feet while the stones they were using as game pieced clattered to the table top. “Please remain seated,” Othon told them. “We need to get down to business.”

“Pulac-pa and Slipstream aren’t here yet,” Twist pointed out. She reached into the boat’s foodbox, a magical device that looked like an old-fashioned refrigerator but which produced any edible the person opening it desired. She pulled out decanters of hot coffee and tea along with milk and cream, then closed the door and on reopening it pulled a large bowl of the tiny Granomish pastries that were her favorites. Spin brought those to the table while Twist found some mugs in one of the closets.

“We don’t get to use these too often,” Spin remarked as he transferred the mugs to the table. “Maiyim Bourne has a full set of dinnerware, but the food box can also produce it as well.”

“And the plates don’t clean themselves,” Twist pointed out.

“They do if you put them in the foodbox,” Seastar told her.

“What?” Twist asked. “How do you know that?”

“I figured it out back in Sonatrie when I was hiding out on board,” Seastar admitted. Maiyim told me I could get food from the box, so I pulled out a big bowl of pasta. Being the daughter of a Lord, I guess I’m used to seeing more on the table than I can eat. Anyway, so I then helped myself to a plate and a fork. When I was done I put what was left on the plate to put away. Imagine my surprise when I went back for more and the plate was empty, but clean.”

“After all this time, we’re still learning just what this boat can do,” Spin marveled. “Maiyim did you know about that?”

“Not until it worked for Marliese,” Maiyim admitted. “We experimented a bit and it seems the food box will only dematerialize anything it produces, but items from elsewhere it does not. So if you put a plate from the cabinets in the box all the food on it disappears, leaving it clean. Also we learned you cannot get more food from the box until you remove the cleaned plates. By the way, I hear footsteps on the dock. I think Pulac-pa and Slipstream are here.”

Twist reached into the food box, once more and pulled at a carafe of lerta, the Tzali equivalent of coffee. It was a beverage that Spin and others had developed a taste for as well. She also produced a plate of Tzali delicacies, that she admitted looked tempting but was fairly sure they would make natives of Maiyim sick.

The cabin was not quite too full with everyone in it, but Spin and Pulac-pa ended up sitting on a counter so the others could sit down on the padded benches. Maiyim’s image remained standing near Spin.

“We know the Tzali base on Robander’s Island is fully occupied and has been for at least six months,” Othon finally got down to the business that had brought him there, “and also the asteroid base is nearly in place.”

“Nearly?” Foxglove asked, belatedly tacking on, “Your Majesty? I thought it was precisely at the trailing point of stability relative to the Midbar-Maiyim system.”

“We are informed that it is only approximately situated there and that the Tzali engineers are still making micro-adjustments,” Othon replied, “but since there is nothing we can do at this time to change that or to stop them from finalizing its position, we suppose that it is as good as at rest for our purposes. And if what we are going to discuss is successful, we see no reason to worry about it.”

“It’s a tiny moon in our sky, Your Majesty,” Spin pointed out, “and roughly half the Tzal Raids on Maiyim, Midbar and what is left of our space stations are still originating from there. Worrying about it seems to the point to me, uh, unless you have a plan to stop the war?”

“Ferslakach Fleet is in a position of ‘Do or Die,’ as you would say here,” Pulac-pa added. Their attacks are ramping up to the point that I believe that all their resources are in use. They are desperate, so if you have a way to stop them, this is the time.”

“We are hoping they will stop themselves,” Othon replied. “Queen Ilyana and I would like to offer the Tzali a third option besides conquest or annihilation. The Presidents of Methiscia and the Isle of Fire, the Prime Minister of Sutheria and the Lords of Ellisto have assured us of their support. The Senate of Bellinen has waffled dramatically, but President of the Senate Odo affirms that they do not object in principal to a peaceful end to this war. Even Wennil is on our side, although they make no treaties as a nation.”

“Nice,” Spin nodded with a cheerful smile, “so all we need to do is bring Ferslakach Fleet on board.” He paused to let the smile drop from his face before asking, “How do we do that?”

“Am I late?” they heard Frederick, Lord Olen call from outside as he climbed onboard the deck of Maiyim Bourne.

“Possibly,” Spin shot back as Freddy climbed down into the cabin. “It appears peace has broken out. I wonder what that will do to the economy.”

“Spin!” Twist admonished her husband.

“No,” Othon shook his head, “Sir Spinnaker’s skepticism is not misplaced. There will, no doubt, be a devil in the details, but we wish to propose an armistice with the Tzali while treaty negotiations take place and in that we are supported by every civilized nation on Maiyim.”

“I notice you have not included Saindo,” Twist commented. “Somehow no one ever does.”

“Saindo continues to be a problem,” Othon agreed, “but it is our problem and not one that affects a proposed armistice with the Tzali.”

“It could,” Freddy admitted. “There are a lot of Eldist priests who claim the Tzali were sent here by the gods to cleanse Maiyim of the filth comprised by everyone who is not an Eldist.”

“Everyone who is not an Eldist of the right sort at that,” Slipstream added. “Sorry. I have no warm feelings toward Eldists in general considering that the central core of their faith is that my religious upbringing is an abomination.”

“There are moderate Eldists who do not discount the Younger Gods,” Seastar pointed out. “They merely say that it is more proper to worship the Elder Gods, is all. I am not at all sure the Gods want us to worship them at all. No, don’t look at me like that. I’m not an atheist, I’m just not convinced anyone really knows as much about the Gods as they say they do.”

“Let us leave the religious debate behind us for now,” Othon recommended. “I am sure the Tzali have their own gods to worship or ignore as befits their own religious beliefs.”

“They do,” Pulac-pa laughed, “and I think you got it right on the second part of that. Only a few priestly packs still truly worship the gods. The rest of us feel the gods turned their backs on us long ago so we returned the compliment. So do you have something official worked up yet? Because if not, you’ll at least want a list to present to the Alpha Primes. Anything short of that would not been seen as serious.”

“We have a list of proposals,” the king replied, “although no official wording as yet. Our Tzali advisors tell me that we cannot open negotiations via comm, however. Later perhaps as we iron out wrinkles as they come up, we might be able to do so, but to show good faith the preliminaries must be accomplished face-to-face.

“Therefore we, and by ‘we’ I mean all the leaders of Maiyim,” Othon went on, “propose to send you to Robander’s Island as our representatives to Ferslakach Fleet. We realize that this is just a start and that not only will the details take time to work out, but that the Tzali probably need time to adjust to the way life is on Maiyim.”

“It wasn’t so hard for me,” Pulac-pa pointed out, “and it really was not so hard for the other captured Tzali, at least once they got over the shock of having surrendered. That’s the big one, but you are not asking for a Ferslkach surrender?”

“You and your fellow Tzali have convinced us all that Ferslakach is not likely to surrender so long as their leaders are alive,” Freddy told him. “We believe you. And actually if we can establish peace, we will want the Primes to continue to lead Ferslakach since, once they agree, the entire pack will be bound by their decision. If we can establish Ferslakach as a new nation on Maiyim and a member of the Maiyim Alliance, the war will be effectively over. In a fight to the death, we all, the Tzali included, have far too much to lose.”

“All right,” Pulac-pa nodded. It was a mannerism he had picked up after joining with Spin and Twist. “Let’s see what you have to offer.” He accepted a sheet of paper from the king and started reading. “Let’s see, the nations of Maiyim are willing to acknowledge both Robander’s Island and the asteroid base as sovereign territory of Ferslakach. I may have to explain to them what that means. On the Homeworld, territory is what you can hold on to and subject to change if some other pack thinks it can take it from you. Prime Kennek, though, is an intelligent person and a flexible thinker. I don’t think that would be a problem.”

“We will acknowledge that pending a real treaty,” Freddy pointed out.

“That’s a nice touch, and more than a competing Pack would offer for certain. I just hope Prime Rini doesn’t see it as weakness. Well, we shall see,” Pulac-pa shrugged, another bit of learned behavior. “In return, all hostilities must stop. That’s kind of a given so if they accept the rest of it, they’ll definitely agree. You offer the possibilities of trade agreements, exchange of ambassadors and more to be determined in the actual treaty. I’ll have to explain what an ambassador is, Tzali packs do send representatives to negotiate with each other, but it is a risky business. Still, I think Prime Kennek will appreciate the concept of diplomatic immunity, strange as it might sound at first. And full membership on the Maiyim alliance, pending acceptance by the MA Congress? Interesting. It will take a long time to explain that the Alliance, which is made up of the nations of Maiyim is also independent of those nations.”

“It is safe to tell them,” Othon assured Pulac-pa, “that if the leaders of most of those nations are recommending it, the least Ferslakach Pack can expect is probationary membership for a few years, but during that time they would still have the right to send representatives to speak and vote in the Alliance. So long as all hostilities cease, full acceptance will be a mere formality.”

“And there’s more here, but, yes,” Pulac-pa nodded again, “this looks like a serious offer to me. The problem will be getting through to the Primes.”

“I have the right sort of radio for that,” Maiyim told him.

“I suspect that if we needed a radio that transmitted faster than light, you would have that too,” Spin laughed.

“It’s going to take time to get through and I won’t be surprised if they are extremely suspicious,” Pulac-pa told them all. “This might take a while. I’ll let you know when I have something.”

Two days later, Pulac-pa finally got to talk to the Alpha Primes of Ferslakach Pack. As he predicted, there was a lot of suspicion, especially when he sent his initial message using an encryption key that had changed since his capture. However, the Tzlai had returned with a cautious reply asking Pulac-pa to prove his identity.

The Tzal had explained to Spin, “I need to establish that it is really me and not some Maiyimite trying to trick them,” when Spin had suggested sending an open message and now that prediction had proved true. “There really is no fool-proof way to prove it is me without a face-to-face meeting,” He told Spin as they sat by the radio together, “which they will not allow until I convince them that it is a reasonable chance that I am who I say I am.”

“Tell them something only you and they might know,” Spin suggested. Pulac-pa shot him a very human grin and turned back to the radio.

“Kennek, Rini,” Pulac-pa addressed them in the language of Tzal. “Do you recall the day we met?”

“We are healthy and our minds are whole,” the speaker at the other end replied. Pulac-pa had to assume it was Kennek, and by this time, there was no reason for anyone to lie about that.

“Glad to hear it,” Pulac-pa told him. “Well, you will also recall my reaction when I learned that not only you were not married, but not even dating yet.”

“No one left alive but you should remember that,” Kennek replied. “What were your exact words?”

“Well, hell! That complicates things!” Pulac-pa replied, unable to stop laughing. He did so with the Tzali bark that was their form of laughter and Kennek joined in. “You have to admit it did complicate things, too.”

“I suppose it did, old friend,” Kennek replied. “One question, though. Why didn’t you call on one of the Maiyim Comm frequencies? You could have used video and I would have known it was you sooner.”

“Several reasons,” Pulac-pa admitted. “The most important one is that I did not think of it, but also I did not know for certain you would receive it.”

“You know we have been monitoring them,” Kennek replied, starting to sound suspicious again.

“But would you have been monitoring this one?” Pulac-pa countered. “There are… well, I don’t know just how many simultaneous broadcasts go on at any given moment… thousands, probably. How could I know you would hear mine? At least I used a Tzali frequency I knew was in use. Finally, how could I know you had video capability compatible with Maiyimite systems? We did not at the time I was captured.”

“Why did you allow yourself to be captured?” Kennek asked. This time he did not sound suspicious, just curious.

“I didn’t really have a choice,” Pulac-pa replied “I was bound in a manner I could never have imagined, totally unable to move. I know how it was done now and can do it myself, but at the time all I understood was that I was captured right and proper. I never regretted having offered my formal surrender too. Smartest thing I ever did and it might even have been the best thing that could have happened for Ferslakach.

“Kennek,” Pulac-pa went on, “How would you like to bring this war to an end not only without any further loss of life, but with great gain for Ferslakach?”

“You know I would welcome that,” Kennek replied cautiously, “but you have surrendered. How do I know you bargain in good faith?”

“Honestly, you do not,” Pulac-pa admitted, “at least not yet, but the people of Maiyim are, by and large, good people and the leaders who have asked me to contact you love and care for their people as much as you do the people of Ferslakach and the client packs of the fleet.”

“There are no client packs any longer,” Kennek informed him. “There have been too many losses and Ferslakach absorbed them all as full pack members.”

“Good,” Pulac-pa nodded, even though he could not be seen, “then we will not have to worry about getting them in line. Look, I am not going to try to give the all the particulars by radio, but the leaders of Maiyim are willing to recognize Ferslakach ownership of Robander’s Island, which I guess will be renamed Ferslakach?”

“We’ve been calling it Robander,” Kennek admitted. “It is easier to use the Maiyimite names rather than make up ones of our own. But you say they will recognize it as ours? Generous, considering we already hold it.”

“That is a difference between the Homeworld and Maiyim,” Pulac-pa told him. They mean that they will stop trying to drive you off of Robander so long as you cease all hostilities. They are willing to consider Ferslakach as a legitimate nation on Maiyim and offer to sponsor you into their Maiyim Alliance. There’s a whole lot more, most of which is debatable but which when you hear it all I think you will agree it is a fair offer. So will you allow our team of negotiators to meet with you and Prime Rini?”

“Tempting,” Kennek admitted. “I truly wish to believe you. I will confer with Rini and will let you know our decision at this time tomorrow.”

Two

“Primes Kenek and Rini have agreed to meet with us,” Pulac-pa reported the next afternoon with Spin and Twist. “They will allow a single flyer within Ferslakach territory and it may carry no more than eight people.”

“Eight?” Freddy asked. “Well, I was planning to speak for His Majesty and the other leaders, but I was planning to go without assistants, just you three. Well, I suppose that just because we are allowed eight, that does not we much fill our quota.”

“No, you should have eight,” Pulac-pa replied. “Fewer than that will make it look like you do not respect the power of Ferslakach and the status of the Primes. More than that will show you are not to be trusted to uphold the terms of the armistice you propose.”

“Does the number eight have some religious significance or something?” Freddy asked.

“No, of course not,” Pulac-pa replied. “It has no particular significance of any sort save that it was the number Kennek, Rini and I agreed on.”

“As I recall, Othon wanted Twist and me to take everyone who was on Maiyim Bourne yesterday,” Spin remarked.

Twist counted, “That would be the four of us, plus Slipstream, Seastar and Foxglove. Seven.”

“Eight,” Spin corrected her. “Maiyim was there too.”

“Othon could not possibly have expected us to include Maiyim,” Twist pointed out.

“She can’t go anyway,” Freddy told them. “She’s a yacht and a fair-sized one at that. There’s not a flyer that could carry her. You would need a cargo plane.”

“And she would not be easy to carry around even on a trailer,” Twist added.

“I did not mean to say she would go physically,” Spin replied, “Just her image. We just need a self-contained, portable holographic projector she can communicate through via NetMaiyim.”

“Is that all?” Freddy laughed, “I’ve never heard of such a thing. Where did you plan to pick one up?”

“Oh, Maiyim will have one by the time I get back,” Spin replied confidently. “She can create things that don’t exist yet.”

“Assuming they are physically possible in the first place,” Twist told him, “and this isn’t some food that will be invented in sixty years. How do you know it is possible to make a portable projector as you imagine it?”

“Such things already exist,” Spin replied, “but they are large. I’m only expecting miniaturization, but you know, Maiyim’s image appears without a projector.”

“Technically, her image is a very detailed illusion,” Twist argued. “I suppose, though, it is possible to make something that will allow her to interact with a remote projection of her image.”

“It will need a camera and microphone so she can see and hear,” Pulac-pa pointed out. “Those will have to be remotely controllable as well.”

“But will we have a NetMaiyim connection on Robander’s Island” Freddy asked. “We never did have good coverage around the poles and since the war started, it has gotten a lot worse.”

“Prime Kennek asked why I did not transmit my message via one of the frequencies commonly used on Maiyim,” Pulac-pa put in. “Even if you do not have functioning satellites over the poles, Ferslakach has a way to hook into NetMaiyim. I just hope Maiyim can figure out how to use it. It’s worth a shot and she represents a form of life that can only exist here.”

“Our entire team is representative of the people of Maiyim,” Spin commented. “We have humans from Emmine, an Orent from Bellinen. Slipstream is a Granom and from the Isle of Fire. Seastar represents Ellisto. Freddy, you’re one of our ruling elite. We can’t cover everyone, I’m afraid, like Granom, Sutheria and Methiscia, but we do have at least one member of each intelligent species.”

“You left off Wennil and Saindo again,” Freddy retorted, “but you make a point. Okay, if your boat can produce the device we want, Maiyim can represent… oh, I don’t know, the artificial intelligences of the world?”

“There is nothing artificial about Maiyim’s intelligence, Frederick,” Twist shot back at him, “and she represents the World of Maiyim in a way no one of us can… if she can come with us.”

“But I cannot travel with you on the flyer,” Maiyim told them a short time later. “My image and senses are confined to within my hull.”

Spin laughed. “Maiyim, dear, the entire comm network and NetMaiyim are extensions of your senses. This TriVee transceiver…” he indicated the new device they found waiting for them on the galley table. It was even smaller than he expected, the size of a kid’s lunch box and with motorized wheels that would allow the user to move it around remotely. It was sort of a scaled down version of some of the unmanned probes to Midbar and the outer planets, although they had never had to contain a holographic projector, just a camera and various other sensors. The top as it rested on the table was slightly domed and made up of thousands of tiny lenses that sparkled in the light of the cabin. “…will allow you to interact with us and the Tzali on Robander’s Island.”

“If I can connect there,” Maiyim pointed out. “I haven’t even tried yet.” She paused and then laughed. “That was amazingly simple. Does Ferslakach realize how wide open their computers files are? Oh my! I can actually see through their security cameras! If they don’t agree to the armistice I might be able to… no, their weapons systems are isolated from the comm. Good thing for them too, but why hasn’t anyone exploited this before?”

“How are you getting in, Maiyim?” Pulac-pa asked. “I had a hand in designing the security systems of the fleet myself.”

“Well, they have managed to build NetMaiyim terminals on the asteroid base,” Maiyim replied. They are stealthed, of course and cannot be seen unless they send a message, but I can still detect the nodes they represent. Now, they only receive from the rest of NetMaiyim, but they do transmit everything they receive to still more Tzali NetMaiyim terminals on Robander. That probably would not have been a major security leak, or a leak at all really. If they were strictly NetMaiyim terminals I couldn’t tell them from any others, but they are using their own computers to analyze and, I guess, break the encryption on high security transmissions. The thing is, while it looks to me like they thought they had a one-way connection, there, I have no trouble going back and forth and the Tzali systems have no firewalls. Pulac-pa, how can that be? From what you have described of Tzali culture I would have thought your firewalls would be centuries beyond ours, but they have nothing like that.”

“What’s a firewall?” Pulac-pa asked. “No, no. I know what you are talking about, but you have to realize that there is no world-wide network on Tzal. No one trusts another’s pack enough to share data so openly. Without such sharing, there is no need for the sorts of protection you have. While seeking to fund the Ferslakach bid for the fleet, some of us broke into a rival’s bank and transferred funds to Ferslakach, but we could not do it directly. Instead we bought a whole load of Fleet shares in Ferslakach’s name using our rival’s money.”

“Gods!” Spin swore. “How did you handle bank transfers if you couldn’t just wire money from one place to another?”

“We had what you would call a primitive email system,” Pulac-pa explained. “It was done by sending a bank draft that printed out on a remote printer, but it could only be done from the originating bank. That’s why we had to break in. The actual resources that draft represented were transferred later, generally the same day. Failure to deliver would ruin a pack’s reputation, making the rest of their money worthless so far as other Tzali were concerned. All other communications were by radio and vid, but you certainly could not break into someone else’s computer remotely. Since we did not need that sort of security, firewalls as you know them, were never developed.”

“So they have no notion how open they are,” Maiyim concluded.

“I suggest,” Freddy told them, “that for now we keep this to ourselves. We are going to either Robander’s Island or their asteroid base to negotiate in good faith. If we are successful we will not need to use their security problems against the Tzali. If not, then we have a new weapon.”

“Am I really the only one to discover this, though?” Maiyim asked. “What about the Sons and Daughters of Maiyim? They’ve been in contact with the Tzali. That might be why they have NetMaiyim terminals to begin with.”

“Can you block the transmissions from the Tzali installations while we are there?” Spin asked Maiyim.

“Child’s play,” she shrugged. “I’ll be using a fair amount of bandwidth anyway. I can either jam the rest or prerecord a long loop and let it replay while we are there.”

“I like that second way better,” Freddy decided, “but let’s keep the Sons and Daughters from knowing we are there, if we can. When do we leave?”

“Ferslakach will send us directions in an hour,” Pulac-pa replied. “We should perhaps pack our bags and be ready to move. I am pretty sure our destination is Robander, though. Once there we might have to board a Tzali shuttle to the asteroid, base, but I doubt that will be the case. By now Kennek and Rini ought to be on Maiyim. Leading from a place of security is not the way a Tzali alpha works. When we follow an alpha we literally follow that alpha. Back on Tzal, when Ferslakach was at war with the others vying for spots on the fleet, Kennek was on the front lines with the common soldiers. He did not stay back in the Ferslakach bunker with the children, although Rini was forced to do so. Had she been alpha prime on her own, you can bet she would have been out leading her forces too.”

“Good thing I’m not planning to fight this Kennek, then,” Freddy laughed nervously.

“Indeed,” Pulac-pa nodded. “I do not believe you would win, Lord Olen. I mean no disparagement, of course, but you have neither the physical training nor experience that even your greenest soldiers do. Tzali are all soldiers, even Kennek who, on Tzal was a university professor.”

“I was on the University wrestling team,” Freddy protested, “but I suppose I have let myself go somewhat since then.”

“Freddy, wrestling is not really fighting,” Twist pointed out. “It has rules and forms that must be obeyed. It is a stylized form of combat, sure, but that’s what makes it a sport and not actual combat. If you had to fight this Kennek, I doubt you could get him to agree to the rules you are used to.”

“If it were a duel of honor,” Pulac-pa commented, “Perhaps you might, but the challenged has the right to choose weapons and style of combat. Kennek is not likely to agree to a style he has no acquaintance with. He would be more likely to choose knives and his speed and agility would have you at a distinct disadvantage. Spin, on the other hand, could probably give him a run for his money.”

“Except I do not have any experience with knife fighting,” Spin replied. “I did not really start working out in earnest until I started studying magic and that was with all the mental activity I felt a need to do something physical as well.”

They all packed changes of clothing from Maiyim Bourne’s closets and were ready to move when the call came from the Ferslakach Fleet instructing them to begin flying directly east southeast. “It’s wonderful to travel with you all for a change,” Maiyim marveled, “but could someone pick the holo-unit up so I can see out the windows? The camera is on the floor and I find myself looking up your trousers.”

“Next time we’ll want a unit with an extendable camera and the ability to levitate,” Spin told her. He lifted the unit up and placed it on a seat near a window. “As a prototype, however, you have to admit this is pretty good.”

“Much more than I ever dreamed,” Maiyim admitted. Her image started to flicker. “Uh oh. I think we’re going into a dead zone. I’ll be back wh…” she blinked out altogether.

“Someday we’ll have the full communications net we once had,” Spin sighed.

They flew on for two hours with Maiyim making an appearance for a few minutes every now and then. Then they received a course correction from the Tzali, instructing them to turn due south. Half an hour later that was revised again by forty-five degrees back to the east. The trip continued on like that all day, zigzagging all over the Strait of Sutheria. By dusk they were headed west and flying over some of the Inaliand Islands and held that course until dawn when they were instructed to turn around one hundred eighty degrees. After another hour they were told to turn northeast toward the city of Midon. That was when Freddy finally lost his temper.

“Pulac-pa,” the earl ordered, “get them back on-line.” The Tzal tried to say something, but Freddy kept going, “Tell them to stop playing these foolish dominance games. The lives of four sapient species are at stake here and none of us have the time for this. And put it in those exact words if you don’t mind.”

“Are you sure you’re a diplomat?” Pulac-pa grinned back at him.

“A very frustrated diplomat,” Freddy growled back at him. “None of us has the time for this childishness.”

“You are correct,” a new Tzali voice could be heard over the radio, “this is a childish game and I, at least, would like to think I’ve grown up. Pulac-pa, please turn directly south. That’s not an exact course, but I will send out two scout ships to escort you in directly. Robander out.”

Three

“You could have told me the radio was still on,” Freddy complained to Pulac-pa.

“I tried to,” the Tzal replied, “but I couldn’t get a word in. It worked, though. I don’t know who was giving us the previous directions, but that last voice was that of Prime Kennek. I suspect he is as interested in meeting with us as we are with him. It’s a good sign.”

Another half hour they spotted a pair of Tzali scouts couming at them from a few degrees east of true south. “Maiyimite flyer,” one of the scout pilots hailed them, “We have the honor of escorting you to Robander Base. Please follow us and we will have you safely on the ground in an hour.”

“This is Pulac-pa,” Pulac-pa responded. “Thanks for the escort. Matching course now.”

“Welcome back, Pulac-pa,” came the response. “It is good to hear your voice, sir.”

They followed the two scouts straight for another half an hour to the Tzali base. “No wonder we haven’t been able to find them down here,” Freddy commented as Pulac-pa brought them in for a landing. “They’re completely under the snow and ice. Even this landing pad is made of ice.”

“Actually the landing pad is just colored to look like ice,” Pulac-pa informed him. “The walkways to the interior are made of the same paving material. It’s pretty windy out there and if this pad were just ice we would be sliding across the surface by now. The interior is all beneath the ice and snow, however. I wasn’t here, but had I been building it I would have put up the base and then covered it up with ice and snow.”

“What keeps the snow from just being blown off?” Freddy asked.

“They probably covered the whole structure with textured ice first,” Pulac-pa replied, “so the snow would have crevices in the ice to stay in, but also there is probably someone whose job is to go out each day and make sure the place stays under cover.”

“The snow would help insulate the base from the even colder air,” Spin remarked, “so keeping it covered is only partially for the camouflage. “

“Maybe,” Pulac-pa shrugged as he started to put a long thermal coat on. The others did likewise. “Later on, if we make friends, we can just ask why they did it and how.”

“Everyone all bundled up?” Spin asked, picking up his bag and heading for the door. “I think it’s time to meet the neighbors.”

“Almost,” Pulac-pa stopped him. “Before we leave the flyer, I want to make sure everyone is properly armed.”

“Armed?” Freddy protested. “We’re diplomatic legates. Being armed is contrary to everything we are trying to accomplish.”

“Call it another case of Interstellar Anthropology, should that be Sapientology?” Pulac-pa wondered. “Well, I guess you know what I mean. In any case, you would insult Ferslakach by arriving unarmed. It would be tantamount to saying you could beat them bare-handed and would be insulting because it meant you had no respect for them and their abilities. I still have the laser pistol I had on me when Spin and Twist captured me…”

“Didn’t you disarm him?” Freddy asked Spin.

“No need,” Spin replied. “He had surrendered. A Tzali who surrenders is entirely on your side. It would have been insulting to disarm him.”

“See” Pulac-pa cut in. “Spin understands. I also have my dagger, so here, you wear the laser.” He took off his gun belt and held it out to Freddy.

“Maybe I should use the dagger,” Freddy remarked.

“No, the gun is larger and more obvious,” Pulac-pa told him. “They know me so a token weapon is sufficient for the matter of courtesy, but they don’t know you so something blatant and obvious is to the point here.”

“What about them?” Freddy asked as he took the gun belt and opened his coat back up.

“The mages have their staves,” Pulac-pa replied. “As weapons they are kind of old-fashioned but they’ll be understood, although, Spin, better take that golden pen and let it look like a staff again.”

“It could look like a sword if you would rather,” Spin told him. Abruptly, the pen-like staff stretched out into the form of a golden sword.

“Hmm, maybe if you had a sheath for that thing,” Pulac-pa remarked, “but no, I think it looks better as a staff.”

“What about me?” Maiyim asked. “Should I just fake a weapon of some sort?”

“Can you?” Pulac-pa asked.

“I have full control of my image,” Maiyim replied. “I could look like a Tzal, but that might be confusing. Here, I’ll wear a laser pistol like yours.” Her image changed to include the gun. “Like it?”

“Not bad,” Pulac-pa replied. “Now we can go.”

There were several Tzali in thermal clothing waiting for them outside the flyer. “Welcome to Robander Base,” their leader told them in the modern language of Maiyim with a polite nod of the head. He had a faint accent Twist was unable to place. “I am Hilleri Ferslakach. If there is anything we can do for you, you need only ask. May we carry your bags for you?”

“Thank you,” Pulac-pa replied, handing his overnight bag to one of the waiting Tzali. The others did the same, but Freddy pulled a small case out of his bag before surrendering it to one of the Tzali.

“My notes,” he explained.

“Of course, sir,” the Tzal replied. “You could keep your bags with you if that is convenient, but we will leave them for you in your rooms.”

“No, that’s alright,” Freddy shook his head. “All that is left in there is a change of clothing.”

“You must all be cold out here,” the first Tzal cut in. “Please, sirs and ladies, follow me. It is much warmer inside the base.” He led them at a comfortable, but brisk pace toward what looked like the mouth of a snow cave. Once under the overhanging ice, however, they saw a metal door, which opened automatically as they approached. A hot gust of wind blew into their faces, but it seemed to stop as soon as they had passed through the door, already closing behind them.

“Warm in here,” Slipstream commented.

“About the same as back home,” Foxglove told her.

“The Homeworld is warm compared to most of Maiyim,” Hilleri informed them. “We find this comfortable.”

“And so will we, once we take these coats off,” Twist remarked, starting to take her own coat off. One of the Tzali assisted her, carefully making no move that could be construed as an attempt to take her staff. “Yes, this is a little warm compared to what we are used to, but it is not so bad.

Hilleri turned to Pulac-pa and asked, “Have you been well, Teacher?”

“Quite well, Hilleri,” Pulac-pa replied. “Thank you for asking.”

“We all mourned for your loss when you went missing,” Hilleri explained, “and rejoiced to eventually learn you had not died. The Maiyimites treated you well?”

“They treat us all very well,” Pulac-pa replied.

Hilleri said nothing, but merely nodded. When everyone had removed their coats she beckoned them to follow her again. As they did the other Tzali went off, with the bags and discarded garments, in another direction.

The inside of the base was Spartan and metallic. Spin looked around as they walked and commented, “If I did not know better, what with the gravity and all, I might think I was on a space station.”

“Many units of the fleet were recycled to build this and our asteroid base,” Hilleri replied. “We have not really had the luxury of time to quarry stone, make concrete, process lumber and build in a more conventional manner.”

“Understandable,” Spin replied. “Life is not exactly normal in the rest of the world either.”

“But perhaps today we can take the first step toward normality,” Freddy cut in. Hilleri said nothing to that although an expression that passed across her face looked akin to hope.

Hilleri brought them into a large room with a long table in the center. “Please wait here,” she requested. “The Alpha Primes will be here presently.”

The chairs around the table looked as though they had been pulled off of a spaceship, which Spin supposed they had. There was artwork on the walls of the room that was abstract in nature, mixing colors and texture in a way none of the mages had ever seen before. Foxglove, Seastar and Slipstream, started following the wall in a clockwise manner, trying to make sense of the art from one panel to the next.

“We should remain standing until they get here,” Pulac-pa told them.

“Another point of etiquette?” Freddy asked.

“Not really,” Pulac-pa laughed. “But if I know Kennek, he would have preferred to meet us himself. That he is not here means he is rushing to join us. It will not be long.”

“I’m amazed at how polite everyone seems to be,” Spin remarked, “considering we are supposed to be the enemy.”

“Politeness and courtesy is essential in a civilization composed of highly aggressive warriors,” Pulac-pa pointed out, “or at least that is the way it is taught in Tzali schools. In this case, however, it is especially enforced by the fact that we are guests of the Alpha Primes and it would be unthinkable, not to mention suicidal, to dishonor Primes Kennek and Rini by behaving toward any of us with anything less than exquisite courtesy while we are on this base, and in fact, until we have returned home safely.”

The wide double door at the far end of the room opened and over two dozen Tzali filed into the room. “The Alpha Council – unless there have been more changes than I think,” Pulac-pa told the others. There turned out to be thirty pack alphas in the council and none of them said anything to their visitors. They simply stood around the far side of the room where more seats had been arranged. Behind them a Tzali female entered the room. She was thin and wiry-looking but with well-developed muscles beneath her fur. Most notably different about her were her middle limbs, the tentacle-like gripping organs all Tzali had beneath their arms. The Alphas had all carried theirs in the same manner Pulac-pa did, wrapped around their abdomens and kept stationary when possible. Twist and Spin knew, from Pulac-pa that most Tzali women on their home world kept their middle limbs covered at all times for the sake of propriety. In space their women soon learned there were never too many ways to hold on to safety and kept their middle limbs exposed, but, like the men, they held them motionlessly at their sides or wrapped around their torsos. This woman, however, held her middle limbs partially extended as though about to use them in a fight.

“That’s Kennek’s warlord,” Pulac-pa whispered. “Her name is Wraen.”

“Good thing we’re not here to fight,” Freddy admitted.

“Yes,” Pulac-pa nodded, “and here come Primes Kennek and Rini. Oh, and in front of them is their co-wife Teri.”

“That would be Teri Bailiach-Ferslakach?” Twist asked. “Nahek told me about her. An impressive lady in her own right, I think.”

Finally, Kennek and Rini stepped into the room. Kennek held himself proudly, but there was a certain air about the various alphas in the room, Teri and Rini included, that he did not seem to possess. Had Pulac-pa not told them that Kennek had been a professor back on Tzal, Twist and Spin might not had figured out what it was. He was not a natural alpha male, but one who had been thrust into his position. They knew that most of the time an alpha gains his or her status through physical and mental intimidation, but Kennek was Pack Alpha because he was quite probably the smartest. However, his body language was relaxed and confident where the others were stiff and proud. Kennek was an alpha who knew he was alpha and never had to prove it to anyone. Had his position ever been challenged, he had met that challenge and dispatched it quickly and easily. However, unless it had happened recently none had dared to challenge him according to Pulac-pa. Furthermore, Spin noted if a challenge did come, it would not come from his Council of Alphas or in the Tzali language the Slaztal. It was obvious none of them would dare to challenge Kennek although whether it was because it meant dealing with Rini, Teri or even Wraen, none of the representatives from Maiyim could tell.

“Sorry we’re late,” Kennek told them in the language of Maiyim, as he and Rini stepped briskly toward the center of the room. “All sorts of things came up at the last minute, not to mention Rini and I thought it might show good faith if we were to suspend hostilities while we discussed armistice.”

Kennek was wearing a loose, tan colored shirt over black slacks and had an odd form of sandals on his feet which were long and had well-manicured claws instead of nails. Rini was similarly dressed, though unlike the other women in the room her middle limbs were kept demurely under her blouse.

“Although if attacked we will defend ourselves,” Rini added, earning a quick glance from her husband to which she shrugged her response.

“Very understandable,” Freddy told him, stepping forward as well with his hand extended.

Teri Bailiach-Ferslakach stepped in front of him abruptly, blocking his path. “Teri,” Kennek spoke gently, “We have studied Maiyimite customs. Lord Olen’s gesture was one of friendship. I do believe we can conduct these talks in not only politeness but friendship as well.” He stepped around Teri who looked toward Rini as though for guidance. Rini lifted her arms slightly and then let them drop. Under her blouse, however, her middle limbs moved nervously. “I am right, sir, that you are Frederick Lord Olen?” Kennek asked as he clasped Freddy’s hand.

“I am,” Freddy confirmed. “I did not expect to be recognized here of all places.”

“I would like to think we have managed to put together a reasonable database of Maiyim’s leaders and other notables, Lord Olen,” Kennek replied. “This is my first wife and co-slazt or is that smazt? To tell the truth, having two alpha primes in the same pack is rare.”

“My title is smazt,” Rini replied, “but in this case I believe the masculine form is used to refer to us both. Lord Olen, I was very happy to hear you would be in this party,” She grasped his hand warmly in both of hers. “Your reputation for fairness and straight talking recommends you highly.”

“Ha,” Freddy forced the laugh, “That’s not what they say in Parliament.”

“You will find,” Kennek told him, “that while we prefer to deal politely and fairly we also value a negotiator who does not talk around a subject. We can accomplish so much more and in less time if we all say what we mean, don’t you think?”

“I do, indeed,” Freddy nodded.

“Also, please allow me to introduce our beloved co-wife, Teri Bailiach-Ferslakach and our Chief of Military Operations, Wraen,” Kennek went on. Teri gripped hands readily with Freddy, but Wraen noticeably hesitated before doing so. “And our Council of Alphas.” Kennek pointed and named each one in turn. “Now I know Pulac-pa very well. Pulac-pa, I am so glad to see you again at last. Rini and I have missed you and your counsel since your disappearance. I recognize the wizards, Spinnaker and Islandtwist…”

“Actually we are not yet wizards, Prime Kennek,” Spin corrected him. “Our rank is master mage.”

Kennek smiled and shook hands with Spin while Rini greeted Twist similarly. “Really? I guess our files are not perfect. I saw those shows about you and…”

“Oh dear,” Spin shook his head. “The shows were mostly fictional. We don’t blunder about anywhere near as much as they make it seem, but then we did not have any say in how we were to be depicted.”

“Ah, I see,” Kennek cocked his head to the right in a Tzali nod. “I don’t think we could have known that. It is not customary to write fictional stories about real people on the Homeworld, well, not intentionally. I have some doubts about our ancient legends. There’s one in fact…” Rini cleared her throat and made a sound that was half a growl. “Oh, sorry,” Kennek laughed. “I have a tendency to lecture.”

“I would be delighted to hear of your legends at a more appropriate time, Prime Kennek,” Twist told him.

“Thank you, Master Islandtwist,” Kennek replied. “And who is in the rest of your party?”

“This is Journeywoman Slipstream from the Isle of Fire,” Freddy handled the introductions in order of their proximity. Kennek and Rini greeted each in turn. “Journeyman Foxglove from Bellinen, Apprentice Seastar, the daughter of Lord Fonterre of Ellisto and Miss Maiyim Jenynges of Olen.”

“Keesport, actually,” Maiyim corrected him.

“Miss Jenynges!” Kennek exclaimed as he stepped toward her. “Our intelligence was uncertain if you were real.” As he said that, he reached to grasp her hands and passed right through them. “Or were we correct?”

“Oh, I’m as real as you can get, Prime Kennek,” Maiyim responded in Tzali, mimicking the act of taking his hand in hers, “but I am also a boat. This image is the one I use to interact with my friends and other people”

“A boat?” Rini asked, in a rare betrayal of uncertainty. “Are the watercraft of Maiyim intelligent too?”

“I’m the only one, Prime Rini,” Maiyim responded.

“There’s very good explanation for how Maiyim came to be,” Pulac-pa told Rini, “and you won’t believe it. I know I didn’t at first.”

“Try me,” Rini told him sternly.

“It’s magic,” Pulac-pa replied. There was no mockery in his voice, nor did he sound like he was trying to make a joke.

“We keep hearing about Maiyimite magic,” Kennek noted, still speaking in Tzali. “It’s really just one of their words for technology, right?”

“Well yes and no,” Twist replied for Pulac-pa, also in Tzali, surprising both Kennek and Rini. “Magic is the basis of technology on Maiyim and we have machines that use it in the normal course of operation, but it is also something that those with training can do themselves. I understand that you have illusionists on Tzal who perform what looks like to their audiences like magic. We have that too, but it is not the same as what we do for real. Take that table for example.” Twist glanced at the table and with just a small amount of mental exertion caused it to rise several feet up into the air. Then, just to show off a little, she picked the chair up and made them all move around the table three spaces to the left before letting them all back down again.

“How did you do that?” Rini demanded.

“Magic,” Twist replied. “Pulac-pa knows how to do a simple spell like that too, but that hardly answers your questions about Maiyim’s origins.”

“What are they saying?” Freddy asked Pulac-pa softly.

“They’re talking about you behind your back, but right in front of you,” Pulac-pa lied.

“Alright,” Rini replied challengingly to Twist, switching back to Maiyim’s modern tongue. “So tell it to me slowly in words a child would understand.”

“Hold it, Rini,” Pulac-pa stepped in. As he spoke, he prepared a simple levitation spell. “I recognize that tone in your voice. You are already prepared not to believe a thing you are told.” Without realizing it, Rini’s right hand began to rise slowly. When it got as high as her chin however, she noticed it and tried to bring it back down to her side with only partial success. “All I am saying is that you need to keep an open mind.”

“Are you doing this?” Rini demanded of Twist. Twist shook her head, forgetting that was not a Tzali gesture.

“No, I am,” Pulac-pa replied. “It is the same spell Twist demonstrated with the tables and chairs, but you and I are alike that way. I didn’t really believe it wasn’t just a trick of technology for months and this is just a very basic spell.”

“Pulac-pa, let her hand go,” Twist ordered. “I could have floated all the Tzali in this room but did not because that could have been construed as an attack.”

“You’ve made your point, Pulac-pa,” Rini admitted as he finally released his spell. “They could control us with their magic.”

“Not really,” Twist told her, shaking her head again. “That was not really controlling you. I could accomplish the same thing by taking your hand in mine and lifting it. If you didn’t want it lifted that way you would pull it back down just as you were doing, but it would not be control. Your thoughts and actions would still be your own. I cannot do things that affect your thoughts or autonomous body functions.”

“You could stop my heart from a distance, I suspect,” Rini told her.

“And you could do the same to me with that gun on your belt,” Twist shrugged. “That is why I did not demonstrate magic on any Tzal.”

“Either you know us well,” Rini considered, “or you Maiyimites are not so different from Tzali as we thought.”

“Perhaps a little of both,” Twist replied. “There are differences and similarities, but then I could say the same for any two species of people on Maiyim.”

While they were talking Spin and Kennek caught each others’ eyes. Kennek gave Spin a closed-mouthed grin as though to say, “Let’s let our women work this one out.” Spin returned the grin and nodded and they both turned to watch what would happen next. Out of the corner of his eye, Spin noticed that Teri had been watching him and Kennek and on their tacit agreement, she too relaxed and let Twist and Rini find their own levels with each other.

“Alright,” Rini replied at last. This time her tone had changed, though. She sounded as though she and Twist were just chatting like new friends. “I promise to keep an open mind. Tell me how Maiyim Jenynges, who claims to be a boat with a holographic body came to be.”

“It all began roughly three and a half centuries ago,” Twist explained. “Three of my ancestors were on a quest to rid this world of demons.”

“Demons?” Rini asked. “We have studied the religions of Maiyim. Are you saying what we thought were just superstitions were true?”

“Let’s leave the religious overtones out of this for now,” Twist offered. “At the time there were five extremely powerful and vicious beings who appeared to be immortal and evil and who delighted in causing death and destruction in the world.”

“So not supernatural?” Rini pressed.

“For the purpose of this story, their origins don’t matter,” Twist allowed. “There is physical proof of their existence in the libraries of our great Universities that I could show you and Slipstream here used to show tourists where one of them met my ancestors in her homeland. The point is that the time had come to rid Maiyim of their presence and my three ancestors were the ones to whom the job fell.”

“Why them?” Rini asked.

“Because the Gods of Maiyim chose them,” Twist told her.

“The gods?” Rini asked skeptically.

“You promised to keep an open mind, dear,” Kennek reminded her.

Rini sighed, “Oh, all right. The gods chose them. How does Maiyim Jenynges come into this? Was she directly created by these gods to assist your ancestors?”

“The sailing boat that is her body was, yes,” Twist told her. “At one point my ancestors were shipwrecked and stranded on a remote island where whether by coincidence or perhaps not, two of the Gods, Nildar and Wenni were living at the time. It was they who created the boat called Maiyim Bourne. It is an amazingly magical craft and capable of producing nearly anything someone needs to go about such a quest.”

“That’s how I was able to survive my first couple of months on Maiyim,” Pulac-pa put in, “and how we fed other early captives as well. Eventually we learned what native foods we could eat and dietary supplements were developed for us, but Maiyim Bourne produces the real thing as though from the finest chefs on the Homeworld.”

“Okay,” Rini nodded, matching the gestures of Pulac-pa and Twist, “but this is a lot of suspension of disbelief on my part.

Pulac-pa laughed, “It was for me too, and I was there.”

“Anyhow,” Twist took up the story once again, “let’s skip ahead a century and a half, more or less.”

“The quest lasted that long?” Rini asked.

“The quest was long over by then,” Twist explained, “and yes, it was successful, that’s why there are no demons in the world anymore.”

“Yes, of course,” Rini could not help but sound a little skeptical.

Twist ignored that. “Maiyim Bourne was eventually inherited by another ancestor of mine, the great granddaughter of two of the first three, in fact.”

“Oceanvine the Younger,” Spin supplied the name.

“Well, yes,” Twist nodded, “and the first three were Silverwind, Oceanvine the Elder and Candle, but I really am trying to abbreviate this. Anyway, after a lifetime of sailing on the boat, Oceanvine the Younger realized how dangerous it could be to let just anyone get their hands on her. The ownership of the vessel is a responsibility as much as a priviledge, you see. So, on retirement, she put the boat away in very long-term storage and I think the next part is Spin’s to tell.”

“Long-term storage?” Spin laughed. “She had my multi-great grandfather wall her up in the middle of a brand new warehouse where she stayed forgotten until we started tearing the building down a few years… Huh! It was over eleven years ago, wasn’t it? Anyway, I found her in the middle of what had been a hidden chamber and my Dad decided that since I had found her, I could keep her if I liked and he encouraged me to take a little time off that summer and sail her around a little.

“I set off with three friends,” Spin went on and quickly corrected himself. “Well, two of them turned out not to really be good friends at all and they… Well, that doesn’t matter now, but I woke up one morning with what must have been part hangover, but mostly bruises from where some bosco sucker punched me. I found Oceanvine the Younger waiting to talk to me.”

“By my calculation that would have made her over two hundred fifty years old,” Kennek commented.

“Probably closer to two hundred seventy,” Spin replied. “I didn’t ask. They say it’s not polite to ask a lady’s age,” he added with a wink. “Well she only looked to be in her mid to late sixties, because that’s how old she was at the time she cast the spell. You see, she hoped the spells that enchanted Maiyim Bourne would wear off after a century or two in storage. I think she was nearly right. There was nothing magical seeming about the boat except that she was in remarkable condition when I found her. Even the lines did not need replacement. I did not realize how amazing that was at the time, but my friend Al did. He told me that no rope that old should have been usable by then and yet there we were sailing around Ralena Island with all original gear.

“Oceanvine told me that she had left that holographic image of herself as a sort of message to whomever found the boat, so she could explain just what a serious responsibility it was not to misuse the boat’s gifts,” Spin went on. “I have since learned it took a very advanced mixture of spells to produce such a message in that way, especially since she spliced it into the spell complex of Maiyim Bourne herself. That was pretty clever, I think. You see if the enchantments did fade away then there would be no need for the message and if they didn’t, the message would be ready as soon as there was someone on board to hear it.

“And it was not a simple message,” Spin went on, “It was interactive. I could ask questions and she could answer. She even volunteered information, such as in which cabinet I could find medicine to heal my wounds. I think she expected her message to play, though, as soon as Maiyim Bourne’s hull touched the water, but it took a while before the various spells, including the message spell, to activate. Sadly, it only lasted a few minutes but it made me curious about the boat’s origins and I started looking into that. On learning there were descendants of Oceanvine still living and teaching at the school she founded, so Al and I started off for Olen.

“Well one thing led to another and Al had to go home, but I went on and that was where I met Twist. I had left the boat in a marina a few days away and flown there, but Twist offered to help sail her to Olen and it was on that trip that the persona of Maiyim Jenynges woke up.”

“So far as I can tell,” Maiyim took up the tale, “It was very much like waking up. Oceanvine, in casting her spell placed a lot of her memories into it. That’s why her image was able to be so interactive, but when the message spell was over it was absorbed into my greater spell complex and became the seed of my new personality. Spin had nearly always talked to me even before I woke up. I remember that as though it had been a dream, and Twist developed the same habit almost immediately, so when they said, ‘Hello,’ to me, I said the same thing right back to them.

“At first all that I was, was a collection of Oceanvine’s memories and a lot of new sensations. Since then I have been growing as a person and have my own memories and abilities and definitely my own personality, but if your intelligence is uncertain that I am real, it is probably because very few people have met me directly as you have. Some only know of me from Freddy’s reports and in them I am just the Miss Jenynges who unearths the most amazing facts and some have only seen me in a vid screen, so I suppose I might be a mysterious figure. Hmm, I think I like that; Maiyim Jenynges, Woman of Mystery. No,” she decided, “sounds like that horrible vid show about Twist and Spin.”

“That’s very hard to believe,” Rini replied at last.

“There have been stories over the centuries about beings brought to life by various means,” Kennek allowed. “By divine provenence in the earliest of them, though I think some in the modern age are closer parallels. I recall reading a story about a computer than came to life this way, or was it just a very complex collection of software?”

“But those were just stories,” Teri told him. “No one ever invented a sentient computer.”

“That we know of,” Kennek replied. “Think about it. Would a computer that can think for itself really be all that more efficient than one you have to program? Sure, you could speak to it in plain language and explain what you want it to do. We already have programs that simulate intelligence that way, but programming languages are so much more exact and the programmers who use them speak them as fluently as they do Tzali. Some of them more so, if you ask me. And, seriously if the machine thinks for itself, who is to say it is going to do what you want or tell you the truth for that matter?”

“You could program it to do so,” Spin conjectured.

“Then is it really thinking for itself?” Kennek countered. “It seems to me that such a machine would be nothing more than a slave. All machines, I suppse, it could be argued are the tools or servants of their creators, but to me it feels like a terrible cruelty to create something that is alive and then not allow it to be both alive and free.”

“But those are just stories,” Teri objected. “These people tell us this is for real. How do we know this Maiyim Jenynges is who and what she says she is? She could just be a normal Maiyimite projected to us via that machine on the floor.”

As Teri said that, it was Seastar who noticed the warlord, or as Kennek had called her, the ‘Chief of Military Operations,’ Wraen, looking suspiciously, not at Maiyim’s image, but at the projector. Seastar gently nudged Slipstream just in time for the Granom to notice that too when Wraen, suddenly aware she was being watched, turned her attention back to the conversation.

“I suppose you are correct,” Maiyim admitted, “but what would be the point in that? You have already allowed us here to represent the nations of Maiyim and have not blocked any of our communications. In fact, so far as I can tell your systems here have facilitated such communications.”

“They have?” Kennek asked, then answered his own question, “Well, yes I suppose the fact that we are listening to as much of the Maiyimite network as we can from here, that must also grant your devices access as well. Right?”

Maiyim paused only briefly to consider her answer. She noticed a stern look from Freddy and, minfdful not to give too much away too soon, she replied, “Yes, you have tapped into NetMaiyim via the remaining satellites and relayed that connection here via your asteroid base. That gives us contact as well.”

“So we begin on equal ground even though you are within our territory,” Kennek concluded. “That is a good basis for negotiations. And because I have noted that while some of you speak Tzali, we all speak Modern Maiyimese, is it?”

“We usually just think of it as the modern language,” Twist replied. “It’s mostly Emmine with some additions from Orentan and Granomish. Even our dictionaries just call it that.” She laughed slightly at that and added, “In a century or three I imagine our descendants will laugh at our naivete and refer to this as the “Old Language” or possibly give it some other name. However, it is very courteous of you to allow our language to be the one of negotiation.”

Maiyim laughed as well, “Yes, it will save me the bother of translating for Lord Olen.”

“I have not yet had the time to learn more than a few phrases in Tzali,” Freddy admitted gruffly.

“And some of those phrases would not be appropriate at the conference table if you learned them from me,” Pulac-pa pointed out.

“I had wondered,” Freddy shot back, “but honestly Nahek taught me more of your language than you did.”

“Nahek?” Teri asked hopefully. “Nahek Bailiach-Ferslakach?” Freddy nodded. “He is a close cousin of mine. He is well?”

“Quite well, Ms Bailiach-Ferslakach,” Freddy replied. “He speaks well of you.”

“Thank you, Lord Olen,” Teri replied. “The family was so worried.”

“Now that we have at least opened communications,” Freddy replied, “perhaps it will be possible to let you know how your people are.”

“They are your people now if they surrendered,” Kennek pointed out.

“Perhaps,” Freddy nodded, “but one of our proposals as you will see once we get started is the voluntary repatriation of any prisoners captured during the war. By that, I mean they may stay among the nations of Maiyim if they wish, but they may also return to Ferslakach.”

“Well, then why don’t we sit down and discuss this all?” Kennek replied. He looked around and saw both Rini and Teri nod their ascent. To Spin and Twist’s surprise the members of the Council of Alphas mostly left the room at that point, leaving only four of their number so that each side of the conference had eight representatives. “The rest of the Council can observe remotely,” Kennek commented, “Though if I know that lot, most of them will go off to dinner. So, Lord Olen, let’s start at the top.”

“Obviously, the first proposal,” Freddy replied, opening his case and pulling out a stack of papers along with his hand-held NetMaiyim terminal, “is the cessation of all hostilities. I have the basic proposal written down here, both in Tzali and Maiyim languages.”

“You can read our language?” Rini asked.

“Not a word,” Freddy shook his head with a laugh. “These chicken scratches you use for writing are even harder to read than my penmanship, but I have Nahek on my staff and Pulac-pa has also vetted this as an accurate translation. I trust them both.” As he said that, he saw all the Tzali nod and he realized he had struck the right note. In effect, he had called them all trustworthy. “Let’s move on, though. The rest of this is really just an agreement to meet to work toward a permanent treaty and an agreement to recognize each other as sovereign nations and so forth and so on.”

“Passports?” Kennek asked, looking ahead on the list.

“Ah,” Freddy smiled. “That should be easy enough…”

They spoke until dinner time over various points in the proposal and to nearly everyone’s pleasure there were no spoken objections to the provisions of the armistice. Twist noticed, at Seastar’s indication, that Wraen and one of the alphas present seemed to scowl at nearly everything but neither Tzal voiced any objections.

“We have managed to procure some Maiyimite foods,” Kennek told them although he did not explain how or why they had such foods that could not be eaten by Tzali. Spin and Twist concluded it was there to entertain allies from the Sons and Daughters of Maiyim, but decided not to ask. Why don’t we stop for a while and just chat?”

The conversation soon turned back to magic. Rini, it seemed, while still not convinced, was fascinated by what little she had seen and was curious. In reponse Twist created a series of light spells and set them floating and moving over the table.

“That’s nice, but we have holographic projectors that can do the same thing,” Rini pointed out, “and Maiyim’s projection is far more detailed and, I suspect, harder to accomplish, although I do note that is done with a machine.”

“A tech magic machine,” Twist told her.

“A machine none the less,” Rini maintained.

“Ahah! A challenge,” Freddy chuckled. “Go ahead, Twisty. Show her something.”

“Are you volunteering as my subject?” Twist asked him with a nasty smile on her face.

“You wouldn’t,” Freddy told her, not sounding as certain as he hoped.

“I swear,” Twist told him, “cousin or not, next time you try that I will turn you into a fairy tale. Prime Rini…”

“Just Rini,” Rini told her, holding one hand over her mouth to hide a smile so wide it was nearly showing teeth, “at least while we are dining, I should think.”

“Thank you,” Twist replied. “It’s important to realize that in a lot of advanced magic, just as is the case in your own advanced technology, the most impressive looking achievements are dangerous and many of the most difficult are both dangerous and not noticeable to the naked eye.”

“Or else they look the same as some stage illusionist at work,” Spin added.

“True enough,” Twist nodded, “which is why, when demonstrating, I generally keep to the simple stuff. Here, let’s consider this emerald.” She opened the silver locket she always wore and a faceted green sphere floated out at her direction. As an aside she told Rini, “It was an engagement gift from Spinnaker. It is customary to give a ring as such a token, but I like this better.” She was so comfortable with what she did next that she barely had to think about it as the emerald began to spin on its axis as it circled her head. Ladies?” she looked at Slipstream and Seastar.

They each reached into their purses and pulled out small objects. Slipstream was soon demonstrating the same trick with a shiny metal hexnut and Seastar with a small gold coin. “Hidden strings?” Rini guessed.

Twist laughed and sent her emerald gently over toward Rini. “Check for yourself,” she invited. Rini was just reaching out for the gemstone, however, when it suddenly dropped to the table. Slipstream’s hexnut and Seastar’s coin fell at the same time, bouncing off their shoulders anlaps and eventually clattering to the floor. “What?” both Twist and Rini asked in their native tongues.

Foxglove was the first to spot the fading spell string that lead directly to the person who had disrupted the women’s spells. “You!” he pointed at Wraen. “You did that.”

“So there are some Tzali who use magic after all?” Pulac-pa noted in wonder. “That explains a lot.”

“It explains a lot,” Spin agreed, “but not what you think. I know who you are,” he told Wraen.

Four

“I do too,” Twist agreed. “You’re the Tzali goddess, the one who came to make sure the Gods of Maiyim kept to their side of the bargain.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Wraen denied with a snarl.

“Ha!” Twist laughed derisively, privately hoping she was not overstepping herself. “You’re supposed to be a neutral observer though and certainly not the Ferslakach War Leader. Cheating much?”

“I never cheat,” Wraen shot back getting abruptly out of her chair. With their magical senses both Twist and Spin could see Wraen was gathering in magical energy and as one they cast an impermeable ward at the same time Wraen attempted a fireball with a needlessly flamboyant gesture. The fire splashed against Wraen’s side of the ward, burning her uniform badly as well as the hand that had cast the spell.

“What’s going on?” Kennek demanded.

“Hold on,” Pulac-pa advised. “This just got interesting.”

“It has, indeed,” a female voice noted with humor from out of the air. Suddenly, Methis was in the room with them. “And how, pray tell, do you explain that?” Before Wraen could answer the other nine gods native to Maiyim appeared as well, standing together as couples. To one side stood Gran and Querna. Next to them stood the Orentan gods, Bellinen and Merinne. On Methis’s other side were Nildar and Wenni. Nildar and Wenni were an odd-looking couple in that Wenni, the perfect Orentan woman stood a foot taller than her human-god husband and her skin was darker as well. Next were Emtos and Emmine, the gods who had created the humans of Maiyim and, finally, there was Aritos who did not quite look like any extant species on Maiyim but even with his grayish skin color, most thought he looked human. Aritos moved over to stand next to Methis, his wife, as they waited for Wraen’s answer.

“Oh, all right, yes,” Wraen admitted grudgingly. “I am here as the representative of the Gods of Tzal.”

“You are suppose to be a simple observer,” Emtos pointed out.

“According to My interpretation of Our agreement, I may do anything to assist Ferslakach Fleet so long as I behave as any normal Tzal does,” Wraen maintained.

“Oh really?” Methis grinned. The other gods smiled broadly. “So that means that any or all of Us may behave in the same manner.”

“So long as you do nothing a mortal is incapable of,” Wraen agreed. Suddenly, She was bound up in a confining ward and lifted off Her feet.

“You have no idea what a mortal wizard is capable of,” Methis laughed scornfully. “Your problem is that your own people have not practiced any form of magic since their most ancient days, if they ever did even then. The Tzali chose to follow a nonmagical path of technology. That has worked very well for them, but I can tell from your abilities that any master mage and most talented journeymen could give you a run for your money, even with your divine powers. Look at yourself. You can’t even break free of this binding ward. Pathetic! It’s a very basic ward and Spin and Twist could get out of it with ease.”

“Don’t tease Her, Daughter,” Gran advised. “Just as Her people have treated Ours with respect in this meeting, We should treat Her similarly. Do remember that We too had to improve Our skills over the millennia or be out-stripped by Our mortal children and brethren.” Methis nodded and released Wraen from Her confinement, gently depositing Her back on the floor.

“Our Tzali counterparts,” Bellinen noted seriously, “have never had to get beyond what a modern journeyman knows although they do have more power at their disposal than most mortals.”

“And,” Emmine added, “I think it is possible Their mastery of magic has atrophied through lack of practice.”

“Wait a minim!” Pulac-pa suddenly interrupted. “Fireiron, are you saying you’re a goddess?”

“I always knew there was something different about You,” Slipstream admitted, getting down on her knees, “but I never thought…”

“Get up, child,” Methis told her gently. “I prefer friendship to worship. Yes, Pulac-pa, I am Methis, the daughter of Gran and Querna and wife of Aritos.”

“Do the priests know about that?” Seastar asked suddenly.

“I dare say that would damage most of their minds,” Emtos chuckled deeply.

Seastar laughed, “Then, I suppose I’d only get excommunicated if I tried to tell them.”

“Quite likely,” Aritos winked.

“And,” Pulac-pa broke back into the conversation and pointed at Wraen, “this one is too?” He paused while Methis nodded silently. “So, oh Holy Methis, are you looking for an… what do they call it…uh… acolyte or something? Because there is no chance in any hell you are going to catch me worshipping Wraen.”

“You pitiful little tzlamach!” Wraen growled at Pulac-pa and in the same breath through a ball of fire at him.

Pulac-pa had expected Her reaction and cast a protective ward. Wraen’s fireball splashed against it just as the earlier one had against Methis’.

“See?” Methis told her. “Even an apprentice can balk your spells.” She could see Wraen was about to try something else and bound her in a ward again. “Uh uh! You heard him. He’s mine now!”

“You can have him,” Wraen told her venomously. “He’s sarcastic, irreverent and a pain where you sit.”

“I knew we had something in common,” Methis replied lightly, letting Wraen go again.

“I still do not understand this,” Kennek complained.

“Let’s get some fresh lerta in here and I’ll try to explain,” Seastar offered. Kennek nodded and she started in even before the Tzali coffee arrived. “See, these people who just appeared are gods. A year ago I’d have doubted it too. Huh! A few months ago I would have been skeptical, but then I met Aritos, though I thought his name was Artifice. Huh! Artifice. You, know it fits. According to most priests He’s the devil.” She laughed out loud.

“What’s so funny?” Kennek asked.

“When I was a girl, I was one hell of a brat,” Seastar explained. “Daddy spoiled me rotten and until he introduced me to… well, nevermind her. I got over myself in a hurry, but before that I behaved like I thought I was Queen of the world. I’m sorry about that now, but there was this one teaching priestess who told me I’d go to Aritos if I wasn’t careful.”

“She was right,” Aritos told her as he joined them, extending his hand to Kennek. “Nice to meet you Prime Kennek. Perhaps when all this is over I can teach you to play Chess. From what I can tell, you will be very good at it and it’s been a while since I had an interesting opponent although Spinnaker is pretty good when he can keep his mind on the game. Go on with your explanation, Seastar.”

“Oh right!” Seastar nodded. “So anyway, these are our Gods and I guess I’d better get to the temple more often now. From what I can infer, the Wraen who you had as your military chief? Well, She’s a goddess too. Yeah, no one gets a choice as to who they have as gods. It’s just something you’re born too.”

“But Wraen was a part of our bid for the colonial fleet even before Kennek and I were the alpha primes,” Rini pointed out.

“And it was one hell of a battle getting you lot into the final consideration,” Wraen told them.

“So we were divinely chosen?” Kennek asked.

“Of course,” Wraen replied confidently.

“Ten to one,” Pulac-pa interrupted, “there were other gods and goddesses in the other top contending packs. Isn’t that right, Wraen?” Wraen glared at him, rolled Her eyes and finally let out a long-held breath out of one side of Her mouth. “I’ll take that as a, ‘Yes,’” he chuckled and turned back to Kennek. “Yeah, would have been nice to think we were the chosen ones, huh? Well, now I know why there aren’t any world-wide religions on the Homeworld. The Gods like to hedge Their bets.”

“Anyway,” Seastar took up her explanation again, “so far as I can tell, our Gods and your Gods made a deal that neither would interfere in your attempt to colonize Maiyim.”

“Don’t you mean invade and steal Maiyim?” Kennek asked.

“Alpha Prime,” Seastar told him formally, “for all your study of Maiyim, I think you have missed something very important about us. We have three indigenous sapient species here. Pulac-pa tells me that according to scientists on Tzal that is impossible, that no world could support more than one sapient species for long. They say that soon one would dominate and replace the other and yet we have had a stable system for thousands of years. Possibly longer as there are legends about interspecies meetings long before we started writing our histories down. The thing is, none of us are trying to wipe out the other and in some nations, like Ellisto and even more, the Isle of Fire, these species get along just fine because when you get right down to it, people are people. We don’t interbreed, but we do get along most of the time and when we don’t, it’s politics and we’re all cursed with that.”

“I think I need you on my Council of Alphas,” Kennek laughed.

“I don’t think I would pass the physical, but thank you anyway. Anytime you would like to just chat, just give me a call.”

“Kennek, dear,” Rini interrupted. “I have been thinking and you were right the other day when you said we should take any reasonable chance.” Beside her, Teri had her head cocked to the side in a Tzali nod.

“Yes,” Kennek agreed. “Gods of Maiyim, what do you expect of us?”

The assembled gods all glance backand forth until Methis stepped forward. “We expect you and Rini to be the Alpha Primes of Ferslakach Pack. We have promised Wraen’s relatives on your Homeworld that We would not interfere with Ferslakach nor intervene on the side of the people of Maiyim in your war and We stand by that promise. Do what you think is best for your pack.”

“That’s our job in any case,” Kennek nodded. “Very well, Lord Olen. Let’s draw up and sign an agreement. We will have to get it ratified by the Council of Alphas, but I do not believe that will be a problem.”

“We should go over the details again,” Freddy replied.

“We will as we put it in writing, but let’s see if I remember the points,” Kennek replied. “All hostilities are to stop immediately. There will be no reparations expected for damage caused to either side by the other. Ferslakach Pack is to be recognized as a nation on Maiyim with Robander and the asteroid base as sovereign territory. All national territories to be mutually open to tourism and trade. I’m not sure how many will want to visit the South Pole and our base in orbit is even less comfortable, but I have no objections. Rini?” She gave her husband a Tzali shrug. “Okay. Apparently we need to invent some passports, a form of credential so Ferslakach pack members can identify themselves officially when they enter other national territories, but that they will be respected by all the nations of Maiyim. Ferslakach will be the name of our new nation. I do not think we need to rename this island we are now on. We’ve been using Maiyim’s names for places and Robander has a pleasant sound to me. Those are the promises pending ratification by the Ferslakach Council of Alphas and by the other national governments including your Maiyim Alliance. Why both?”

“The Alliance is a distinct entity from the other nations, Kennek,” Pulac-pa explained. It’s sort of like the Colonization Board is supposedly made up of representatives of different packs.

“I’ve always wondered if it really is,” Kennek replied, “but yes, I understand that now. This Alliance is new to Maiyim?”

“It’s all our fault,” Pulac-pa chuckled with the Tzali barking laugh.

“I see,” Kennek agreed. “Well, yes, we do want to apply for membership in the Maiyim Alliance and that will be a matter more involved with the final treaty, but we will have the right to apply for such membership. However, I foresee a time when the Tzali on Maiyim are going to want more territory and that is in much shorter supply than on Homeworld. I would like to think this peace we are brokering will last. How do we reconcile that?”

“Simple enough,” Spin told him. “Before Ferslakach arrived there were many people here who dreamed of exploring worlds beyond this system. You know how to build interstellar ships, right?”

“Not exactly,” Rini admitted, “although we do have them to copy here. We can learn.”

“We will learn together then,” Spin offered. “and when the time comes, all four species of Maiyim; human, Granomen, Orenta and Tzali will travel together to the stars and found our colonies based on interspecies friendship and cooperation.”

“I like that,” Kennek replied.

“As do I,” Rini agreed, “but one thing. Tzali colonization has always been a do-or-die proposition. Had we not found Maiyim we would have had one more chance to find a habitable world and had we failed, we would, all of us, have died of starvation or dehydration or asphyxiation, depending on what necessity of life gave out first.”

“I know about that,” Spin nodded, “and I hope you will forgive me when I say it has to be one of the most stupid ways to colonize other worlds I have ever heard of.”

“It’s nothing I have not said and not so politely,” Rini laughed.

“No, the Maiyim way of colonization is to send out scout ships to find the right worlds,” Spin told her. “We will keep sending them with enough resources to examine a system thoroughly and then come back to report until we find other habitable worlds. Then and only then will we send our colonists. Building a world is hard and dangerous work, but we need not make it suicidal.”

“Put that in the armistice agreement,” Rini told Freddy, “and I’ll sign in blood if that’s what it takes.”

“Maybe you’d rather borrow a pen?” Slipstream offered. All but one in the room laughed.

Five

“The Gods of the Homeworld will never accept this arrangement,” Wraen blustered.

“The Gods turned their backs on the Tzali long ago,” Kennek told her. “What they want or don’t want of us is irrelevant. Besides, this is not the Homeworld. This is Maiyim and if we owe allegiance to any gods then it is the Gods of Maiyim, not the Homeworld.”

“The Colonization Board won’t ever recognize Ferslakach’s claims on Maiyim either,” Wraen tried again. “You know as well as I do that they expect to make another fortune by selling the rights to colonize here. Your agreement here will block that by recognizing the territory of the other nations.”

“That is far more likely,” Kennek admitted. “However, Tzali have never found a world filled with intelligent life before so it is Ferslakach who sets the precedent. The Board can accept that or not. It is no concern of ours.”

“You know all Ferslakach holdings on Homeworld will be forfeit?” Wraen asked. This time she was not argumentative. She sounded worried.

“We wrote all that off the moment we left the Homeworld,” Rini pointed out.

“Kennek, Rini,” Wraen sounded even more worried now, “What if they send a fleet of conquest next to replace you and all the people who live here? Such a fleet would know precisely where you are and what they are flying into.”

“Let them try,” Kennek laughed. “After what I have seen these past few years and especially after today, I know full well they haven’t got a chance, especially with Ferslakach allied with the rest of Maiyim. By the time they get here, we’ll be more than ready for them. Besides, who is going to tell them? You?

“Actually, that is a good idea,” he decided after a long pause. “Wraen, I am sending you back with our success report. As soon as we sign the armistice agreement, your services as a military leader will no longer be essential. Now, since you’re a goddess, do you need a ship or would you prefer to just flap your arms?”

“Next time all the Gods of Tzal will be in the fleet,” Wraen warned them.

“That would violate our treaty with them,” Gran warned.

Wenni laughed, “Oh that’s just fine by me. I might enjoy a little rough and tumble.”

“It would not be much of a fight,” Nildar pointed out, “not if Wraen here is representative of the rest of their pantheon.”

“Wraen,” Teri stepped in before the Tzali goddess could respond. “You know Ferslakach. You have lived with and fought with us for years. I think that in many ways you are one of us. Do you at all doubt that we shall meet and deal with any fleet from the Homeworld in space? And by the time they can get here, in two centuries at the very least, we’ll be more than capable of dealing with them. Who knows, maybe we’ll use magic and send them all the way back in a flash. I don’t know if that can be done, but I’ll bet you know more ways to use magic than I do. The thing is, do you know more than our new friends do?”

Wraen glared at all of them in turn, but at last she conceded, “Very well, Primes Kennek and Rini. I am required to behave as a normal Tzal would and a normal Tzal would deliver your report. What will you tell the Colonization Board?”

“The truth,” Kennek replied. “We found a habitable world. Certainly it is the best ever found by a reporting colony fleet. The problem is, it’s too good. It already has people, lots of them, but we got lucky and they are willing to have us too. Traders, if they are interested in coming here, are welcome, but we have no room for further colonists. I will also send them an assessment of the military capabilities of the people indigenous to this world so that if they are stupid enough to ignore my warning, they will only have themselves to blame when my descendants mount a punative expedition back to the Homeworld.

“I will also recommend they stop sending out colony fleets to die,” Kennek told her, “because even if they take everything I tell them about Maiyim to heart, one of their other fleets will eventually find a world where the natives are not only tougher than we are, but who are not as welcoming as the people of Maiyim. Those people will see all Tzali as a threat and will track us down to the Homeworld and make sure we never threaten anyone again. As a normal member of Ferslakach I expect you to deliver that report and recommend it yourself.”

“But you are casting me out of the pack,” Wraen argued.

“No such thing,” Kennek shook his head, “I am entrusting you with the most important job any member of Ferslakach Pack can have. Not only that, but I am entrusting you with the safety of Tzali everywhere. Wraen, do this for us and I name you Ferslakach representative on the Homeworld. All our holdings there will be yours.”

“You think the Colonization Board will let me have them?” Wraen countered.

“If you want them, I seriously doubt the Board will have a choice,” Kennek laughed. “The rumor is, you’re a goddess.”

“I am the Goddess of Ferslakach Pack,” Wraen replied with a touch of pride. “That has not always been the case, but it is now.”

“Then you will be free to rejoin us one day if that is your desire,” Kennek told her, “but I will expect you coexist peacefully with the Gods of Maiyim. That is only proper since Ferslakach will be a part of Maiyim.”

Wraen drew herself up to her full height. She was not tall, even for a Tzal, but in that moment she looked as tall as an Orent. “As the Primes of my pack wish,” she told them and placed her hand across her chest in salute. In a more conversational tone she continued, “I do not actually need a spaceship, of course, but it would be more comfortable and the Colonization Board is not likely to accept my word for who I am if I do not arrive in one.”

“Pick any that suits you,” Rini told her. “Wraen, we owe you that much at least. Without you we might have never been granted the NewLife VI colonization fleet. Your command of our military operations has been exemplary.”

“If I had not commanded you might have made peace sooner,” Wraen admitted.

“We would still have attacked,” Rini countered. “It was the only way we knew at the time. I do not think we would have done as well. So, find the ship you like the most. Requisition any supplies you like and take our report back to the Homeworld. Once that is accomplished, if it pleases you, return to us, Goddess of Ferslakach.”

Wraen cocked her head to one side in acceptance and left the room. A moment later most of the gods of Maiyim winked out as well, but Methis and Wenni followed Wraen.

“So, let’s get this thing in writing,” Kennek told Freddy, “so Rini and I can sign it and have the Council of Alphas ratify. Then it seems we have a report to get ready. It’s going to be a very long night.

Part IV – The Sons and Daughters of Maiyim

One

The night proved even longer than Kennek had expected. As soon as there was a document to sign, Freddy had Maiyim rush copies of it to every government in the world. “Saindo too,” he added. “I doubt they’ll sign it, they’ve never signed any agreement that wasn’t under duress and then even those they never honored, but I don’t want whoever is in charge this week to say we never gave them a chance.”

“You have two calls coming in,” Maiyim told them a few minutes later as the negotiating parties sat down to sign the armistice agreement.

“What now?” Freddy demanded.

“Her Royal Majesty,” Maiyim replied, “Ilyana and Senator Tenicho Odo wish to witness the signing.” Without waiting for permission, Maiyim used her projector to cast images of the Queen of Granom and the President of the Senate of Bellinen.

Senator Odo managed to speak first, “I would like to confirm that Journeyman Foxglove, as a citizen of good standing in Bellinen, represents my government in signing this treaty.”

“Foxglove,” Freddy told him, “when you sign your name write ‘for the Republic of Bellinen’ beneath your name.” The Orent nodded.

“And We should like to appoint Lady Islandtwist to represent Granom,” Ilyana told them.

“Another call,” Maiyim reported. “This is from Ellisto.” This time there were three images that formed in a bunch; Lords Fonterre and Rotinere and Lady Adele Rotinere. Adele pointed out that Seastar was officially too young to sign the document officially.

“Not by our laws,” Kennek told them, “and she has been of inestimable help here.”

“Well, if countersigned by a temporary guardian it would be legal,” Rotinere told them.

“Good idea,” Fonterre nodded. “Master Spinnaker, will you act in loco parentis for me.”

“It will be my honor, sir,” Spin replied.

“His Royal Majesty just woke up,” Maiyim reported as the image of King Othon appeared. “Oops! and calls are coming in from Methiscia and Sutheria.” A few minutes later they were also joined by the President Sirabawa of the Isle of Fire, the Mayor of Castelon in Wennil and the Speaker in Chief of the Maiyim Alliance, Manu Tintawao.”

“Maiyim,” Spin whispered to her, “Can you handle this?”

“Oh sure,” Maiyim replied confidently. I’m just relaying their signals through the on-board Comm to this projector. This isn’t like the time I projected Freddy’s call up on deck for you. Actually, with a projector I’ll be able to do that all the time now with ease.”

“Miss Jenynges,” Rini asked, “is there a way for you to sign the armistice agreement?”

“Since you’re all signing digitally,” Maiyim noted, “I’ll have no trouble adding my signature to the document.” On the display screen her full name, “Maiyim Bourne Jenynges” appeared in an antique flowing script. “That hand was very popular three and a half centuries ago,” she explained.

“All right!” Freddy exclaimed, “We have an armistice. Maiyim, dear, please make sure everyone gets a copy to present to their governments immediately. We want ratification by the end of the day.”

“You can get some rest,” Kennek yawned, “but Rini and I still have a report to write.”

“I can assist you with that,” Maiyim told him. “While you two compose the cover letter, I can extract and compile the supporting documents. I had to wait, you understand, to tell you this, but your computer security? It’s woefully lacking.”

“It is?” Kennek asked.

“As far as I can tell no one else even thought to look yet, but I can see absolutely everything in your data files. Today that works to our advantage, but I think I’d better work with your computer techies to make sure no one else can get in. Seriously, I don’t like seeing my friends compromised.”

Kennek and Rini just glanced at each other. “We’ll leave that in your capable hands,” Rini assured her, “but if we were that open to you, you could have crippled our entire base and forced us to surrender.”

“I would rather have friends than captives,” Maiyim replied. “I learned that from watching Spin and Twist. Captives can still be enemies, but true friends, not just the diplomatic sort, help each other and remain friends.”

“You are an odd one, Maiyim,” Rini remarked. “At times you seem to have the wisdom and knowledge of the ages and at others you seem as pure and trusting as a child.”

“I’m not quite twelve years old,” Maiyim confessed. “Maybe I’ll grow up one day.”

“I hope not,” Kennek laughed.

“We love you just as you are, dear,” Spin added.

“Would a statement from a representative of Maiyim help?” Freddy asked.

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” Kennek admitted. “You have to realize that what we are doing is completely unprecedented on the Homeworld. Two packs might ally or merge, but they either remain two packs or become one. Here we are doing both. Also I am concerned that our agreement with Maiyim’s nations will make us all appear weak to the Colonization Board on the Homeworld.”

“Weak?” Spin asked. “How?”

“They know us, or think they do,” Rini explained. “It’s a very long story but we broke all the rules on our way to winning our bid for colonization and they never really forgave us, especially since we eventually won by successfully threatening them and all of Homeworld’s economy. We can be brave and strong and that’s what you need for colonists, but we were neither the strongest contender nor were we the ones most likely to make the Colonization Board even richer than they are. We won by exercising our intelligence, well Kennek’s really, and used a number of novel tactics.

“The Board knows us for being the cleverest, but not the strongest and they might view this, not as an alliance, but a capitulation on our part.”

“But, if they think you surrendered to us,” Spin pressed, “doesn’t that make us stronger?”

“The Colonization Board is composed of very rich and arrogant Tzali,” Kennek replied. “I don’t know how intelligent they are. They certainly underestimated Ferslakach, but given their opinion of us, they might decide we just allied with you for mutual strength and that none of us are all that strong.”

“That would be a mistake,” Freddy told him. “You took us by surprise. Had we known you were unfriendly from the start, we would have attacked without restraint.”

“They don’t know that,” Kennek replied, “but I think I will let the Armistice Agreement stand as a statement for Maiyim in general. Now, I think we had better get to working on what Miss Jenynges refered to as a cover letter.”

“Take a look at what I just printed out,” Maiyim suggested. “I used what you said to Wraen. I think it’s a good place to start.”

Kennek and Rini read through it and then passed it to Teri while Maiyim printed more copies for the members of Ferslakach Alpha Council who were still in the room following their ratification of the armistice. Teri spoke first. “I like the wording of this,” she told her husband and co-wife. “Kennek, dear, you’ve always had a way with words and I think you got this perfectly on the first shot. Just address it to the Colonization Board instead of Wraen and it’s ready.”

“We will need to include records of our activities here,” one of the other alphas pointed out. “We should emphasize our victories and how we have exploited our resources.”

“I have been keeping a condensed record of that sort all along,” Teri informed him. “I can edit out some of our set-backs.”

“No,” Kennek stopped her, “if the report is too good they will wonder why we settled for less than total conquest. Print us out a copy, please and we shall read through it, but I think we will end up sending it as is. Do we have an evaluation of Maiyim’s combined military might?”

“With or without Ferslakach?” Rini asked.

“Without,” Kennek replied. “I want them to understand what we were up against.”

“I can assemble a report from official statements by the various governments,” Maiyim offered.

“They might not be completely accurate,” Freddy warned them. “The numbers are likely to be dead on, but governments always overstate the abilities of their military force.”

“Good,” Kennek agreed. “Let them exaggerate as much as they like. I want the Board to not even think of trying to invade our home.”

It was late morning before they saw Wraen’s ship launch from Robander Base with the report, but after that they were able to sit back and wait for reports from the various nations of Maiyim. The Granomish Parliament had voted to ratify by acclimation within an hour of receiving copies of the treaty and the Lords’ Council of Ellisto had similarly rubber-stamped the document. The Mayor of Wennil had called to express his personal support and explained that while he was not empowered to ratify it on behalf of anyone but himself, he was certain that the people of Wennil would respect the treaty and recognize Ferslakach just as they had always done with the other nations of Maiyim.

The Congress of the Isle of Fire was the next to approve the treaty, followed shortly by Sutheria and Methiscia, but there were debates going on in Emmine’s Parliament and the Senate of Bellinen. “What the hell are those idiots in Parliament doing?” Freddy fumed.

“Playing their usual game of silly buggers, I think,” Spin replied. “That might be the biggest problem with a Tricameral Parliament. The Lords actually fell in line with His Majesty, but the House of Commons is waiting to see how the Senate decides.”

“I never did trust the senators,” Freddy grumbled. “Almost as bad as what is happening in Bellinen.”

“I do not understand,” Kennek confessed. “Why are they arguing about completely unrelated issues?”

“They all have their agendae, personal and political,” Freddy grumbled, “and at least half of them are looking for a way to line their pockets.” He saw Kennek was looking confused at the phrase. “They’re trying to make money off of this. I wouldn’t worry too much about this. Eventually Senator Odo will have one of his party call the question. They are the majority party this year so the issue has never been in question. I am worried about the Emmine Senate, though. Quite a few of them have ties to the Sons and Daughters of Maiyim and if they fail to ratify, the Commons might follow them. I already spoke to King Othon, though. If the Senate fails to ratify, he plans to demand a joint session of Parliament and will personally preside over it.”

“Can he do that?” Twist asked.

“In times of emergency, the king may preside over Parliament in joint session,” Freddy replied. “It hasn’t been done in nearly four hundred years so most people seem to have forgotten. Actually, I’d be sorry to miss it. It’s quite a ceremony as His Majesty enters the chamber and commands the Prime Minister to cede all his powers and responsibilities back to the Crown. Heh. There’s no law, by the way, that says the king has to reinstate the Prime Minister afterwards either. I don’t think Othon really wants to be a despot, but he might use this as an excuse to shake some of the troublemakers up.”

“Tell him to have a few spikes in Randona Square sharpened and polished,” Spin suggested. “If I remember my history, four centuries ago was the last time we beheaded traitors too.”

“I’ll pass that along,” Freddy laughed. “Has anyone heard from the Isle of Fire yet?”

“President Serabawa made the mistake of televising the Congressional session there,” Maiyim reported, “and everyone is demanding their five minutes to make a speech. I don’t think we have a problem there, however. So far, over half the Congressmen and women have spoken and most of them have have praised the treaty and spoke lovely words about the world to come.”

“And the others?” Spin asked.

“Known and suspected supporters of the Sons and Daughters of Maiyim,” Maiyim replied.

“Weren’t the Sons and Daughter your allies?” Freddy asked Kennek.

“There was never a formal agreement,” Kennek replied. “We could never trust anyone who would betray their own species. We did trade some of our technology for some of theirs, but to tell the truth we could never make much sense of your tech magic.”

“They also supplied us with military intelligence,” Rini added. “That was more useful.”

“What sort of tech magic did they give you?” Twist asked.

“There was a sort of bomb that would wipe out the ability to use magic in an area,” Kennek recalled. “They suggested we detonate it here to protect us permanently against offensive spells. We never used it because we didn’t believe in magic.”

“We recently came across an area that was affected by one of those,” Spin told him. “It’s not as protective as you might think.”

“Anything else?”

“Mostly null-magic generators,” Rini replied, “though I don’t know what the difference is.”

“It’s a good way to hold a mage captive,” Twist remarked, “and there are some medical uses for them too.”

“Oh, and something they called an Energy Multiplier,” Kennek added. “Our technicians couldn’t make it do much of anything.”

“Maybe I’m too suspicious,” Spin remarked, “but I think we should get rid of all of them. I think the N-Bomb is a menace to the magical ecology of Maiyim and the null generators, if they are truly that, well, I’ll make sure you have real ones if you want them. But I really don’t trust an Energy Multiplier that they had to have known you couldn’t use. I think we ought to put all those things in orbit for now. Safer that way.”

“Spin, you’re paranoid,” Freddy told him.

“I tend to agree with Spinnaker,” Kennek decided. “We never trusted the Sons and Daughters of Maiyim, so their gifts are suspect as well. How do we dispose of them, though?”

“I can do that,” Spin told him. As a demonstration he translocated a chair a few feet.

“Spin, are you sure you can muster the power?” Twist worried.

“I can with this,” he replied, holding up the golden staff. “I don’t suppose you have them all in one spot?”

“There is a warehouse on the far side of the base,” Rini informed him. “Follow me.”

By the time they returned, The Isle of Fire and the Senate of Bellinen had ratified the treaty, and Freddy reported that Othon had already informed the Parliamentary leaders of his intention to preside. The question was called in the Senate and, while it was closer than it should have been, it passed. Now they only had to wait for the Commons to vote. “At last we can relax,” Freddy concluded.

There was a buzz on the Tzali Comm equipment in the middle of the conference table just then. Kennek answered it to hear a very worried-sounding Wraen. “Primes Kennek, Rini, this is Wraen. We have big trouble.”

Two

“Freddy,” Twist whispered. “When will you learn to stop tempting your fate? ‘At last we can relax, indeed!’”

“What’s your situation, Wraen?” Kennek requested.

“I’m in orbit!” Wraen snapped. “What do you think my situation is?”

“I meant ‘What is the big trouble?’ and you know it.”

“Right,” Wraen sounded chastened. “I was just about to break orbit and make course for the Homeworld and paused to look back at Maiyim.”

“Sentamentality, Wraen?” Kennek wondered. “I would not have thought it of you.”

“It surprises me too,” Wraen admitted. “Anyway, when I did so, I detected a massive power build-up in the northeast sector of the Bellinen Archipelago. I thought the Orenta might be violating the treaty but a more careful look showed me it is a strange mix of supernatural power and energy from Tzali power systems. I know. You might be thinking that someone is experimenting with a captured ship’s engine, right?”

“Not really,” Kennek replied. “I was thinking of the engines we gave to the Sons and Daughters of Maiyim.”

“Good boy,” Wraen replied. “Do any of your guests know how to contact the Gods of Maiyim?”

“Is it that bad?” Kennek asked.

“I have Methis on speed-dial,” Twist remarked and made the call.

“This is power on a scale I have never seen since the creation of Homeworld,” Wraen replied, “and when you consider who and what I am…”

“That is a remarkable statement,” Pulac-pa finished for Her.

“Yes,” Wraen agreed. “Prime Kennek, if you do not mind, I would come back to assist until this is resolved.”

“Please do, Wraen,” Kennek told Her. He flipped some switches on his Comm unit. “Are there satellites with cameras and other sensors in synchronous orbit over Bellinen?”

“Yes, sir,” a female Tzali voice replied.

“Get me as many views of Northeast Bellinen as possible,” Kennek ordered, “and pipe them to us here in the conference room.”

“I am here,” Wraen announced.

“That was fast,” Pulac-pa remarked.

“I left my ship in orbit,” She admitted. “Being a goddess does carry some advantages.”

“True,” Methis replied as she and Aritos arrived, “but I have found it best not to use them any more than necessary. I have called the rest of my family.”

“All the Gods of Maiyim are related?” Wraen asked curiously.

“Of course,” Methis nodded. “The Gods of Tzal?”

“Hardly any of Us,” Wraen admitted. “There were once a dozen large families of gods, but We all contended with each other. I mean We fought for dominance and only a relative few survived.”

“So You are very much like Your mortal children,” Aritos concluded. Wraen merely cocked her head to the side in agreement.

“This is very serious,” Gran announced as he arrived with Querna, Bellinen and Merinne. Emtos, Emmine, Nildar and Wenni arrived in the next instant.

“Are we certain this is not something being done by the Orenta of Bellinen Archipelago?” Spin asked.

“Definitely,” Aritos told him. “We have been watching and all the nations of Maiyim are respecting the armistice, even Saindo, not that they had had much to do with the war either way.”

“Then it is the Sons and Daughters of Maiyim?” Twist asked.

“That would be my guess,” Methis replied, “if I had to guess, that is. But you all should take a look for yourselves. Twist, Spin, this is the moment you and your students have been training for.”

“Niece!” Emtos protested. “You know what is happening there as well as the rest of Us do. Mere mortals cannot stop this thing.”

“Brother,” Aritos stopped Him, “You have not been back all that long and You missed a lot in Your absence. You remember Oceanvine, of course.”

“Are you saying these two mages are as powerful as Oceanvine?” Emtos asked incredulously. “That is hard to credit. They are not yet wizards.”

“Nor was Oceanvine the Elder that day on My son’s island,” Aritos replied. “Methis is correct. This is a job for Our mortal children, the people of Maiyim.” He caught Kennek’s and Rini’s eyes and added, “All the people of Maiyim.”

“All of Our children,” Wraen added, nodding for the first time in human fashion. “But what if You are wrong? What if they are not up to this challenge?”

“I have been wrong before,” Aritos shrugged. “I might be again, but I doubt it.”

“Are You going to tell us what we are up against?” Spin asked.

“Only if I must,” Methis replied. “That should not be necessary. Look for yourselves.” She pointed at the large display. It was divided into several views of the northeast sector of Bellinen.

“None of these show magic auras, do they?” Twist asked Rini.

“How could they?” Rini laughed. “Until yesterday we didn’t even believe in magic. I’m still not sure what you call magic is what I think you mean, but we can worry about that later.”

“True,” Twist agreed. “Wraen, were you able to spot a particular island? I’d like a better close up.”

“This one,” Wraen pointed. “The island most northeast along the Sea of Aritos.”

“Let’s get a closer look,” Kennek suggested.

“Maiyim?” Twist asked. “Is there anything about that island on NetMaiyim?”

“One moment,” Maiyim responded as she usually did. “Not very much. Two and a half centuries ago there was an exclusive resort there. And then one day something one article calls a spontaneous volcanic event occurred.”

“What the heck is a spontaneous volcanic event?” Slipstream demanded. “I come from a land entirely made up of volcanos and I never heard that term.”

“I suppose you could say all volcanic activity is spontaneous,” Spin conjectured.

“No,” Slipstream shook her head, “volcanic activity is fairly predictable if you know what to watch for. Our forecasting ability is not perfect, I will admit, and it can probably never be exact, but we are pretty good at assigning a percentage of chance there will be an eruption at any given moment.”

“I imagine we’ve gotten a lot better at that in over two hundred years,” Twist remarked.

“We have,” Maiyim agreed, “but this article was written only five years ago. Well, let me go on. According to this, the event destroyed the resort and killed most of those in residence there at the time. Since then, the locals have mostly avoided the island and it has gained a reputation for being haunted.”

“Haunted?” Rini echoed. “Am I being asked to believe in ghosts now too?”

“I don’t believe in ghosts either,” Twist told her. “Anything else Maiyim?”

“Any recent signs of volcanic activity?” Spin asked at the same time.

“It’s not much of an article,” Maiyim answered Twist first. To Spin she replied, “According to the Bellinen Geographic Survey, there is no sign of recent volcanic activity, or any in the past as well.”

“So much for the first article,” Seastar noted. “We ought to know not to trust everything we read on NetMaiyim.”

“The island is technically owned by the Bellinen Navy,” Maiyim reported. “There is an abandoned old-style landing strip along the south side of the island and they once used it for war practice. Seventy-six years ago, however, that was stopped and the island was cleaned up of shrapnel, unexploded ordinance and what not, and restored to its original condition.”

“And where are the known members of the Sons and Daughter of Maiyim?” Freddy asked suspiciously.

“I will have to contact Alarn Miller in Keesport,” Maiyim responded. “As you know he has been tracking those people for your cousin, Lord Tamolen. He’s not answering his Comm at the moment.”

“Call Tamolen,” Freddy told her. “See if Alarn is with him.”

“The area of disturbance,” Spin observed, “if that is the right word, is relatively small; only a hundred feet across, maybe less. It’s emitting a heck of a lot of energy, mostly heat and electromagnetic interference.”

“Radio noise as well,” Kennek told him, “we just don’t have that display up at the moment.”

“Can we focus in on the visual light image?” Spin asked.

“Something blocks our ability to focus on that spot,” Teri told him. “It might be all the other emissions. I’ll try applying filters and see if that helps.” She worked and, slowly the image began to get less indistinct.

“Stop!” Twist shouted suddenly. She cast a black opaque ward in front of the display. “Turn it all off. I know what we’re dealing with.”

“The Bond of Aritos,” Spin confirmed. “Yes. Best not to try to look at it or even think about its shape. It’s so big though.”

“I have Alarn on the line,” Maiyim announced. A moment later an image of Spin’s old sailing buddy appeared in Maiyim’s place.

“Jerry,” he addressed Spin by his pre-mage nickname, “What’s going on?”

“Al,” Spin replied. “I think something big is happening in Bellinen. Have there been any meetings of known Sons and Daughters in the area?”

“Funny you should mention that,” Al told him. “Yes, most of the suspected higher-ups seem to have been gravitating to northern Bellinen over the last week and they converged on an east coast resort on Tissa Island two days ago. They have been in a secret meeting ever since, although no one has actually seen them that we know of.”

“Is that normal?” Spin asked. “Don’t they usually take breaks by the pool or go shopping in town like we observed back at Mount Candle?”

“Usually, yes,” Alarn agreed. “It’s only been a couple of days though, oh and guess who got spotted inside that hotel. You’re old friend Henowa Bai.”

“What?” several voices asked at once. Seastar’s was the loudest, most demanding of them and Twist put a hand on the apprentice’s shoulder to calm her down.

“We thought she was dead,” Spin replied at last.

“Maybe she is part cat and still has a life or two left to her,” Alarn suggested. “She’s looking a little worse for the wear though. She seems to have several permanent scars now and wears an eye patch. She may have lost that eye.”

“I did that,” Seastar admitted. She did not sound repentant. “Too bad I didn’t manage to get the knife in deeper.”

“I thought it was a letter opener,” Spin commented.

“A very pointy letter opener,” Seastar replied. “Maybe I should have just stuck a sword in her.”

“Al, we’re a bit frantic here,” Spin told him. “Get back to us, though if you learn anything else.” Alarn nodded and was replaced by Maiyim’s image again.

“What if that Bond was what caused the destruction of the resort that used to be there?” Twist conjectured. “Residual energy from the curse could account for the belief that island is haunted. All sorts of odd effects could have occurred. We know the Sons and Daughters have been interested in places of power. Now we know why.”

“No we don’t,” Spin shook his head, “but we do know where. But there’s nothing we can do from here. We have to get there and stop whatever they are doing.”

“Can you translocate there?” Pulac-pa asked. “We have a more accurate placement of your destination than we did in Castelon.”

“Still not good enough,” Spin replied. “We could end up inside a sand dune or a hundred feet off the ground. I can trace back on a signal, but that one is too strong and inexact unless I wanted to land directly on the Bond.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Kennek asked.

“It would probably kill us,” Twist told him, “If we were lucky. We’ll have to take Freddy’s flyer and hope we’re not too late.”

“A Tzali transport can get us there much faster,” Kennek pointed out.

“Kennek,” Rini protested. “You can’t go into that! You’re the Alpha Prime.”

“So are you, my dear,” Kennek replied. “Would you abandon our new friends and allies so soon when they need us?”

“Hell no!”

“Neither would I,” Kennek told her. “Teri, please have a squad of tactical soldiers armed and loaded up on a ship in… well, as soon as they can be scrambled.”

“This is going to be a mostly magical battle,” Twist pointed out.

“At the very least, we can provide cover while you do whatever alla kazam you do,” Kennek told her.

“Freddy,” Spin told him, “I need you and Maiyim to get back to Olen and let all the world leaders know what is going on. Senator Odo and Lady Adel Rotinere may have insights on this we do not. They and others like them have been working against the Sons and Daughters even longer than we’ve known about the Sons and Daughters.”

“They have?” Freddy asked.

“Consider yourself sworn to secrecy,” Twist told him, “although right now I’m not sure if that really matters.” She glanced over at Methis and the other observing gods. Methis shook her head microscopically. “No, it probably doesn’t. Tell them this is the big one.”

“Does that mean anything?” Freddy asked skeptically. “We hear that sort of thing every other month from the news reporters.”

“No time for doubters,” Twist told him. “You heard Methis a while ago. This is the event Spin and I have been in training for, but we need to know as much as we can.”

“Maiyim,” Spin cut in, “I also think we’re not going to be able to do this alone. Contact Wizards Moonsong and Amble as well as the mages of the Universities at Randona, Querna, Merinne and Rjalkatyp. Tell them everything we know and ask them to assemble a team of their best mages. We need to be able to shut down that Bond of Aritos and the only way to do that will be to drain off the power. The Gods alone know what that’s going to take.” Realizing what he had just said, he glanced at the Gods. Methis grinned and shrugged.

“Already talking to Moonsong,” Maiyim reported.

“Our ship is ready,” Teri reported, “Are you?”

“Let’s go!” several responded.

Freddy stopped Twist for just a moment as she started to join the others on the ship. “Take care of yourself, Twisty,” he told her without a trace of his normal bantering tone. “You’re the closest thing I have to a sister and life wouldn’t be the same without you.”

Twist hugged him briefly and replied, “See you on the other side, Freddy.” Then she turned quickly, before he could see the tears starting to flow down her cheeks, and ran into the Tzali ship.

Three

Teri wanted to pilot the ship herself, but Pulac-pa insisted on handling that chore. “I’ve been on both sides of the war now,” he told her as the ship lifted off from its icy pad. “If someone is using radar to track us, we’re not going to be able to get below it. There’s too much open ocean on this world, but even so, there are a few tricks. In this case, though, we are not hiding from Maiyim’s military. That reminds me, have we cleared our flight path. We’ll be coming into Sutherian air space soon.”

“Haven’t they been told yet?” Teri asked.

“Just their prime minister,” Pulac-pa replied, “or is it president? Whatever, he may not have informed his Admirals and Generals yet. Call ahead.” He gave her the correct frequency.

Teri made the call, identifying the flight as Tzali-1, and was told to expect a military escort. “Negative, Sutheria,” she called back. “I mean you can escort us if you like, but we plan to initiate a suborbital burn about midway between you and Point Emilea.”

“Understood, Tzali-1, Good flight and good luck!”

“Do they already know the emergency mission we are on?” she wondered after signing off.

“Maybe, but I doubt it,” Pulac-pa replied. “That’s just the way people are here. They do not have the so-called pack mentality.”

“What about the ‘Us versus Them’ mentality?” Teri asked.

“Yes and they are competitive too, but it is not as pronounced as it is on the Homeworld. I think it’s just that they see strangers as potential friends more often than as potential enemies. They are more naturally cooperative outside their own families.”

“Interesting,” Teri replied.

“Better call ahead to Bellinen now,” Pulac-pa advised. “Give them our destination and warn they we intend to come in from out of the sun. That won’t stop their ability to track us by any means, but I also don’t want them thinking we’re trying to fool them.”

Teri called as he suggested, but Bellinen Air Control got sticky. “Negative, Tazli-1,” someone at the other end told them, “We cannot allow that flight path in Bellinen air space.”

“Hang on,” Pulac-pa cut in and hit the mute swtich, then he shouted back into the cabin. “Anyone have Maiyim on the line? I’d like her to patch Odo into this call I’m having with Bellinen.” Then he unmuted the call with Bellinen Air Control and told them, “Stand by for the President of the Senate, please.”

“This is Tenichi Odo,” Odo’s voice came through the speaker. “Air Control, I understand there is a problem?”

“Yes, Senator,” the voice of Control replied. “The flight identifying itself as Tzali-1 is requesting ballistic entry into Bellinen air space.”

“Tzali-1?” Odo asked, “Then one of the Alpha Primes is on board?”

“Both are, Senator,” Pulac-pa responded.

“Ah, Pulac-pa! I recognize your voice,” Odo noted. “Too bad we do not have a video connection as I do with Control.”

“Incompatible systems, I’m afraid,” Pulac-pa replied. “We’re headed into that situation you no doubt were already informed of.”

“I suspected as much,” Odo told him. “Control, please grant Tzali-1 permission to follow their flight plan as stated. I am certain they are entering Bellinen with peaceful intentions toward us and that their exit will be in a more normal manner.”

“Yes, sir,” the voice of Control agreed. “Happy landings, Tzali-1”

“Bellinen Control didn’t sound as happy to see us coming,” Teri remarked after Pulac-pa had thanked Odo for his assistance.

“You can’t please everyone,” Pulac-pa laughed. “Besides, it’s his job to be suspicious.” He flipped a switch and turned on the speakers in the main cabin. “This is your captain speaking,” he imitated the pilot of a commercial airliner, “I hope you all don’t mind the steep inclination of this ship and the feeling of having a beloved family pet sitting on your chest, assuming you keep a big fluffy hippopotamus as a pet…”

“What’s a hippopotamus?” Teri asked, but Pulac-pa ignored her.

“We’ll be reaching the top of our little ballistic arc in about five minutes and will be coasting for a bit, so the hippo will go away soon,” Pulac-pa continued. “Our Ferslakach hosts don’t seem to have seen fit to supply us with a flight attendant to serve food and drinks, but since no one in my vast circle of friends seems to fit have invented artificial gravity, we’re going to be in free-fall. Trust me, you’ll be happy to have empty stomachs when that happens. Please refrain from floating about the cabin because it will be very painful when I fire the breaking rockets if you are not properly strapped into your seats.

“You didn’t have a whole lot of choice, but thank you for flying with us on Leadfoot Spaceways today. We’ll be coming in for a rather abrupt landing, but as they say, any one you can walk away from and all that!”

“Have you gone mad, Pulac-pa?” Teri asked.

“Everyone needs a hobby,” Pulac-pa shot back.

Back in the cabin, Spin asked Kennek, “We seem to have corrupted Pulac-pa with my bad sense of humor.”

“No,” Kennek barked a laugh. “He has been like that for as long as I have known him.

Rini had something else on her mind, however as she talked to Twist, “I hope you will not take offense, but if you are going to continue speaking Tzali, we really need to work on your accent, dear.”

“I don’t speak clearly?” Twist asked.

“No, I understood every word,” Rini replied with half a grin, “but it is obvious you learned our language from Pulac-pa.”

“Well, actually it was Methis who coached me on the basics,” Twist admitted, “but I guess I picked up Pulac-pa’s pronunciations. Is that bad?”

“It’s an odd mixture of the University and the gutter, I’m afraid,” Rini replied. “I’ve never heard it from anyone but Pulac-pa before and I think you ought to have a more cultured accent than that. Don’t worry, we can work on it together and maybe you can teach me how to make a gemstone circle around my head.”

“Sounds like a fair trade,” Twist laughed.

Spin’s Comm implants activated. On answering, he heard Maiyim’s voice. “Spin, I’ve contacted everyone you asked me to. You’ll have reinforcements from every school of magic on Maiyim, though I think you’ll be on the scene first.”

“Yeah, we get to scout,” Spin replied.

“I think you need to know that whatever is happening there, the power is still building up,” Maiyim told him. “Please be careful.”

“I’m always care…” Spin began and then corrected himself, “I’ll do my best, dear. I just wish the gods had seen fit to tell us just what we are rushing into.”

“They probably want you to figure it out for yourself,” Maiyim replied. “Perhaps this is your final exam from Methis.”

“I doubt that,” Spin shook his head. “She never teaches the same class twice, but I don’t recall anyone ever actually failing one.”

“Then don’t you be the first,” Maiyim told him. “I’ll be in touch to help coordinate your efforts. Later.”

“This Maiyim is a remarkable, uh, entity,” Kennek commented as Maiyim’s image winked out.

“She is, indeed,” Spin agreed. “We’re very lucky to have her.”

“And she is really a boat?” Kennek asked.

“A sailing yacht,” Spin replied, “with hydroplaning wings. She’s very fast. When this is over I’ll take you sailing.”

“I’ve never been on a boat,” Kennek remarked. “We do not have a lot of open water on the Homeworld.”

“But you do have some,” Spin replied. “Pulac-pa told me he had to sail in at least one of his races.”

“Well, yes,” Kennek replied. “We do have a few small seas and some large lakes and I suppose those packs who live near them might use boats, but it is not a common activity. I think the Pole-to-Pole race includes spans across bodies of water because so few Tzali ever see open water for themselves. It is there for the variety and challenge.”

They might have continued to chat about anything but their destination, but Pulac-pa’s voice broke in just then. “I have a live shot from our exterior cameras. I’ll put it up on your screen back there so you can watch as we make our approach.”

The screen lit up and they all saw the small island they were headed for. It wavered around on the screen for a few minutes, but when it was centered it stopped moving. “See that dark spot on the eastern side of the island?” Pulac-pa asked. “That is our point of concern. It’s doing nasty things to our sensors so I have to blank it out.”

“Just as well,” Spin remarked. “There are forms of that spell that can infect you if you even think about what it looks like. I don’t know which variant this is, but none of them are good.”

“You’ve told us this before,” Kennek reminded him.

“It bears repeating,” Spin shrugged.

They watched as the island’s image grew larger until they were less then ten miles above the island. “Spin!” Twist called. “It’s glowing at the edges, isn’t it?”

“This image is,” Spin agreed, “Although we can’t see the whole Bond. It might all be glowing. Do we have this ship warded?”

“No, but it’s a good idea,” Twist told him. “Just in case, though, let’s do this together.”

More often than not, Twist and Spin held hands when casting a spell cooperatively, but that was not possible in the Tzali ship. Instead, Spin glanced at his wife across the aisle and nodded. He began the process, setting up a ward that was completely transparent from within the spherical field but which was set to absorb all energy above a certain level. It was a tough balancing act. If the ward blocked too much they would be flying blind and if it did not block enough, the ward was no protection at all. Spin, however, recognized his wife’s greater experience with such things and allowed her to fine-tune the protective aspects of the ward.

“I’m bringing us down as close to that thing as I can,” Pulac-pa announced.

Everyone was silent as they grew closer to the island until they heard Teri say, “Let’s just blast it out of existence.”

“No!” the mages shouted all at once, but it was already too late.

The entire ship hummed for a moment as generators built up and then a laser pulse shot out and hit the large Bond of Aritos. At the same moment, Spin reacted and totally opaqued the ward, putting all the power into it that he could. He could sense Twist doing the same thing. As the laser hit the Bond, the light around the edge of the blotted out spot on the screen grew much brighter. A moment later something hit the ward, rocking the ship violently. Caught in the backlash, both Twist and Spin blacked out as their ward collapsed under the attack.

In the cockpit of the ship, Pulac-pa turned the control yoke of the vessel hard to his left. The ship banked hard and then the engines cut out entirely. “Damn!” he swore. “Teri, bring those engines back on line!” Silently, he thought, Damned glad this thing has wings. Makes us a flying rock rather than just a falling one.

They coasted westward across the island, losing altitude rapidly as Teri worked the engine controls frantically. From behind them, Pulac-pa heard a chorus of screaming and guessed correctly that Slipstream, Seastar and Rini’s voices were going to be hoarse if they survived the experience. They’ll have a lot company if I’m right about half the other Tzali back there. Unaware of what had happened to Twist and Spin, he did wonder momentarily why Twist wasn’t trying to calm the others down or attempting to slow their descent. Finally, when less than two hundred feet above the ground, the engines woke back up and Pulac-pa used them to best effect.

Even so, it was a bumpy landing at the bottom of a newly blasted crater in the sand, followed by an additional crash as the landing legs on the ship’s belly gave way under the stress. “Is everyone all right?” Pulac-pa asked, unstrapping himself from the seat. There was still a lot of noise coming from the rear of the craft, but panic was ebbing and most of the shouts involved people making sure their neighbors were unharmed.

“Badly shaken,” Kennek shouted back to Pulac-pa. “You’ve lost your touch.”

“I haven’t had much practice lately,” Pulac-pa shrugged as he entered the cabin.

Teri was just behind him and looking decidedly sheepish. “I am very sorry, Kennek. This was my fault.”

“Anyone could have made that mistake,” Pulac-pa told them both immediately. “Let it go.” Louder he shouted. “Is anyone injured?”

It turned out that three of the Tzali had already unfastened their seat harnesses and had been thrown about on the crash landing. One was merely badly bruised, but the other two had broken bones. No one else had suffered more than minor bruising. Pulac-pa lectured the wounded mercilessly, “Next time you will wait until the captain tells you we have landed, not that this thing is going to fly again. It will do as shelter, though. You three will stay here. We’ll pick you up later, if we win. Rini, how are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” Rini rasped her reply. “How far from that thing are we?”

“A lot further than I had intended,” Pulac-pa replied. “We’re on the far side…” he broke off as Twist and Spin, moaning, began to wake up.

“I thought we were dead,” Spin groaned as he opened his eyes.

“No, I got us down in only two or three pieces,” Pulac-pa replied.

“No,” Slipstream corrected the Tzal. “He meant the magical backlash. He and Twist could have been killed. Twist?” she asked.

“I have the mother of all headaches,” Twist told her. “I’m sure Maiyim has a pill that would fix that right enough, but she’s a few thousand miles away.”

“I have some headache pills,” Seastar offered.

“Worth a try,” Twist nodded and instantly regretted moving her head that way.

A few minutes later, however, Twist and Spin were urging them all out of the crashed ship. “We’ve no time to just sit and recover,” Spin pointed out. “How far away are we?” he added unaware Rini had asked the same question.

“We’re on the far side of the island,” Pulac-pa informed him. “It’s a small island, but I estimate it will take us an hour to cross it, that’s assuming there are paths through the forest in the middle.”

“There won’t be,” Spin told him. “This island has been abandoned for a long time. There hasn’t been anyone here to make a path. We’ll have to follow the shoreline.”

“Should we split up the party and come at the Sons and Daughter from both directions, do you think?” Kennek asked.

“That spell is disrupting Comm signals,” Spin told him. “I think we had better stay together. Besides we have help coming in from all over the world, the fewer groups of us to be mistaken for the enemy, the better. Too bad we don’t know when to expect them.”

“Besides,” Twist added, “the first thing we have to do is drain the power out of that Bond of Aritos. For that purpose we’ll be more effective as a unit. After that we may want to come at the people there from different directions.”

“And we can deploy our fighters once we are in the vicinity,” Pulac-pa added, “but right now, we have a lot of walking to do. Are you sure you can’t call Maiyim?”

“I’ve tried twice already,” Spin told him. “I’ll keep trying and I am sure she’ll be trying too. I would be very surprised if she hasn’t been tracking us by our Comms.”

“Poor thing,” Slipstream commented. “She must be worried sick.” The she noticed Foxglove nearby. “You’ve been very quiet.”

“I didn’t have anything worth adding to the conversation,” the Orent told her. “Everyone said anything I could come up with. So, let’s get moving, huh?”

An hour after they started walking they spotted a small flyer coming up from the southwest. It circled around and landed near the party coming from the downed Tzali craft. “Spinnaker!” a deep voice called from an Orentan throat.

“Orchid!” Spin called back, recognizing his friend. “Good to see you here.”

“Well, Timbre and I weren’t going to let you and Twist have all the fun,” Orchid replied.

“Hey! How did your Wizard finals go?” Spin asked as Twist introduced the newcomers to the Tzali and vice versa.

“Grueling!” Orchid replied. “Darned glad I’ll never have to go through that again, at least not from that end of the table.”

“Congratulations, Wiz!” Spin laughed. “I see you brought a few others with you.”

“Oh yeah,” Orchid nodded. “Timbre and I brought Morningdew, Westerwind and Clidro. We’re the Merinne cooperative magic team. Ever since we saw you and Twist in action we’ve been trying to duplicate your results. Any two of us work well together and sometimes three of us can. It’s a whole new order of magical power when you synch up just right. We wrote a paper on it for Modern Magic. It should be in the fall edition, but maybe you and Twist should be one of our readers. You two still know more about working cooperatively than anyone.”

“Be glad to,” Spin replied, “but first I think we need to stop whatever is going on here.”

“Agreed,” Orchid nodded. “We weren’t planning to fly too much closer to it anyway. We saw it from about ten miles back. That is one really big Bond of Aritos.”

“I’ve been wracking my brains trying to figure out why they cast it so big,” Spin admitted as they all started walking again.

“I do not think they did,” Wizard Timbre informed him. “There have been odd stroies about this place for as long as I can recall. After you were last in Merinne, I started looking into so-called places of power and this island figures in quite a few books on the subject. Most of them are complete rubbish, but one author did real research. Have you ever heard of One Maiyim?”

“Yes,” Twist told her. “They were sort of predecessors to the Sons and Daughters about two and a half centuries ago.”

“They certainly were,” Timbre nodded. “Their inner circle was shot down by your ancestors, Oceanvine and Sextant, but the organization was always too large to just die because the leaders were gone. Some of their low to mid-level leaders went underground and eventually formed the organization we call the Sons and Daughters.”

“I know that,” Twist nodded, “but what does One Maiyim… wait a minim! Are you saying this is an artifact of One Maiyim?”

“I believe so,” Timbre confirmed. “It seems fairly clear that One Maiyim’s supreme leader, a corrupted high priest of Emtos, had an office building here and used it as a headquarters. It makes a certain twisted sense. He could run One Maiyim from here and still be a priest in Kornedd and just translocated between here and there.”

“That’s a very long distance to translocate,” Twist remarked, “and how did he manage it?”

“You have to ask?” Timbre laughed. “You translocate all the time. Your mother complains about it constantly.”

“I don’t translocate from one side of the world to the other,” Twist denied.

“What’s the difference?” Timbre asked. “So long as you know exactly where you are going and its location relative to your departure point. It doesn’t matter.”

“You need some way to counter translocation shock,” Twist pointed out. “For any reasonable distance, Spin and I have to use the golden staff. They did not have those tech magic devices the Sons and Daughters have been using back then.”

“No, but they had the Bond of Aritos and they seemed to have delighted in using it,” Timbre argued. “Maybe that’s why this big bond is here. I suppose he might have used it just for translocating back and forth. I think it just got bured under the sand, although it is possible it was buried as soon as it was completed. I don’t suppose it has to be out in the open to be usable.”

“I doubt we’ll ever know why they built it for sure,” Twist replied. “But right now we have to get rid of it.”

Overhead they saw another flyer, leaving a smoke trail behind it and falling precipitously. Spin reached up to it telekinetically and eased it down to a soft landing on the sand. “That was very good!” Orchid told him as they hurried toward the flyer. “I doubt I could manage that.”

“Without this staff,” Spin replied, “I’m sure I couldn’t either. I might have made it look easy, but… Oh good, more reinforcements.”

Several Granomen exited the flyer, whom Spin had recognized from his most recent trip to Querna. “Sir Spinnaker!” one of them greeted them. Spin recalled he was Wizard Flint. He was short, like most Granomen and powerfully built. He wore he graying hair longer than most Granomen in a decidedly Orentan style. “I assume that was you who caught us?”

“It was,” Spin replied, “Welcome to our merry band. What happened to your flyer?”

“We got too close to that construct,” Flint pointed back in the direction his craft had come from. “They shot something at us that got past our wards. They have a lot of power collected there.”

“So do we,” Orchid commented and proceeded to introduce himself.

“Nice to meet you,” Flint replied, “but I meant that bond construct, not just the sixteen rogue mages using it.”

“Sixteen?” Orchid asked.

“Maybe more,” Flint replied. “but we were able to count four each of the Bonds of Gredac, Pohn, Xenlabit and Kerawlat. I don’t know what they are up too, but I think they are using those Bonds to power the big one. Have you gotten a good look at it?”

“I haven’t had a chance,” Spin admitted. “I was too busy shielding others from possible side-effects.”

“Well, it’s one I was taught was powerless,” Flint replied. “Apparently my teacher was mistaken because that one has power now.”

“Which variant is it?” Twist asked as she approached.

“The Bond of Arithan.” Flint replied. “Although what they espect to do with it is beyond me. Maybe they’re trying to raise that one from the dead?”

“Can’t be done,” Twist shook her head, “but there were things Arithan could do, none of the other demons could. By activating his sign it is possible the Sons and Daughters are trying to gain some of his powers.”

“Such as?” Timbre asked.

“Let’s hope we don’t have to find out,” Twist replied.

A trio of Tzali scouts returned just then and reported to Kennek and Rini. Kennek then commanded them to repeat their report for Twist and Spin. “The Alpha Primes ordered us to go on ahead and see what was happening,” one of the Tzali told them.

“Good thinking,” Spin nodded, “especially since we got distracted here.”

“Sir!” the Tzal saluted. “When we got to the top of a large sand dune we looked down to see what seemed like sixteen miniature stars in clusters of four around the big, strange symbol on the ground. The symbol was glowing with a greenish yellow light and some sort of giant seemed to be forming in the center of it.”

“A giant?” Spin wondered.

“A demon!” Twist realized. “Arithan was the only demon capable of releasing the other demons from captivity on their islands. Those fools are freeing the demons.”

Four

A final group of mages arrived while they were planning how to deploy their forces. Twist’s parents, Wizards, Moonsong and Amble had arrived with the Orentan Wizard Cirrus and several other mages from Olen at the Aerospaceport at Killo where they met up with the party from the Island of Fire, led by Twist’s old friend, Master Kestrel. “We borrowed Frederick’s private jet,” Amble told Twist and Spin. “He probably knows about it by now. Then I hired the fastest hopper the rental agency had. We all piled in and here we are.”

“They’re raising the demons, Dad,” Twist told him, “and Spin has a plan.”

“Smart lad,” Amble chuckled. “That puts him one up on most of us.”

“There are four demons, not counting Arithan,” Spin told him, “and there are four groups of rogue mages. I figure we should form four groups as well. That includes the Tzali, of course. They’ll be providing cover, at least we hope so. Just remember Pulac-pa is the only one who knows how to cast a ward, so keep them shielded.”

“Which groups of us will attack which of them?” Amble asked.

“There are four groups of four, all casting various Bonds of Aritos,” Wizard Flint reported. “I did not have time to draw a map, but they seem to be oriented on the four main points of a compass.”

“There might be a functional reason for that,” Moonsong conjectured, “or it might just be superstition or coincidence.”

“But their orientation gives us direction as well,” Spin pointed out. The ground shook just then and a moment later, a monstrous roar split the air. “No time to dither,” he decided. “Isle of Fire take the group on the north, Granom the west, Bellinen the east and Emmine to the south. Kennek, divide your people up as you see fit. Twist and I will do what we can to drain the big Bond. Now run!”

They started splitting up and Spin realized he had forgotten about Slipstream, Foxglove and Seastar. He looked around and saw that the young mages had stayed with him as had Kennek, Rini and Teri. Pulac-pa had joined the team from Olen however. A dozen other possibilities came into Spin’s head then and he had to force himself to discard them all. The others were already moving into place. This was no time to change their plans, and then Spin got his first look at the big Bond of Aritos and saw the Demon Pohn standing in the middle.

The Bond pattern was like none Spin or Twist had ever seen. While they all looked superficially alike, each one took on aspects related to the demons they represented. Xenlabit’s Bond look like it was made of water and the power seemed to flow within it. Gredac’s resembled tendrils, vines and parts of other plants. Pohn’s was bright yellow-green and pulsed with raw energy that sometimes sparked off of it and the Bond of Kerawlat appeared to be made of flesh, scales, feathers and fur with blood rushing through veins inside. This big Bond was entirely different, however. It was more complex than the others. They all held patterns within their patterns, except for the Bond of Pohn which was quite simple in comparison, but this one had twists and turns none of the others hand and the pattern contained itself again and again in what looked like an infinite regression that Spin nearly lost his mind in until Slipstream shoved him and caused him to blink.

“Whatever you do, don’t stare at that thing,” Spin told the others. “I hope none of the others do too. Thanks, Slipstream.”

“Maybe I should slip around and warn everyone?” Seastar suggested.

“You and Slipstream together,” Twist told her. “Cover for each other and stay warded!” Seastar nodded and the two women ran off.

The Tzali soldiers had started firing laser rifles and small rockets at the demon while Spin had been temporarily mesmerized. The Demon towered at least fifty feet over them. The weapons did only the most minor damage, but they did hurt the demon who bellowed and charged in the direction of the first shots, only to be distracted by follow-up weapons’ fire from other directions. The demon was powerful, but he was not intelligent and only thought to turn toward the direction of the last attack. He threw bolts of raw lightning, but, ever distracted, he was unable to hit his targets.

“Not too bright, is he?” Spin commented lightly.

“That one is Pohn,” Twist reminded him. “His main attribute is brute strength, but he cannot think his way out of a paper bag. We need to do whatever we can, though, to stop the other demons from being raised.”

“Drain the Bond of Arithan?” Spin suggested.

“I don’t know if that’s the right way to go about this,” Twist told him, “but maybe it will distract the mages powering it. Silicon blocks again,” she added reminding him of what they had drained the Bond created by Lord and Lady Casey in Sonatrie.

They went to work and a wall of crystal-clear blocks began to form around the large Bond, but it had no effect and another demon began to materialize in the center of the Bond of Arithan. This one was smaller, no larger than an Orent or a very tall human, but he was very muscular and covered with dark red scales. “Kerawlat,” Twist identified the newly arrived demon.

“I think that’s Gredac coming in next,” Spin told her. “See how his skin looks like the bark of a tree?”

“And he has leaves instead of hair,” Foxglove added. “Why don’t we drop these blocks on the heads of the rogue mages?”

“We still have to drain that Bond,” Spin told him even as he and Twist continued to use the power there to create more blocks of quartz.

“So do both at once,” Foxglove told him.

“Ah hah!” Spin laughed as he caused the next one to be created in the air over the nearest group of mages. Soon four mages had been buried under a pile of blocks and the Bonds of Aritos they had been maintaining pulsed and then seemed to fall back into the piles of blocks with the mages who had cast them. There was an explosion and a blindingly bright flash of light and the fourth demon, Xenlabit appeared in the middle of Arithan’s Bond. His skin was blue-green like sea water but had the look of stone as well. “Damn!” Spin swore. “Twist, we need a really big block.”

Together they pulled in all the power they could from the Bond and created tremendous block of quartz over one hundred feet on a side. The surviving Sons and Daughters of Maiyim’s mages collapsed to the ground and were envelloped by the Bonds of Aritos. They winked out, each to be summoned to the demons whose power they had invoked, but those demons were inside the large crystal cube. For a few seconds, as silence reigned, Spin thought that was the end of it and then the cube exploded, sending shards in every direction. “Duck!” Spin shouted much too late.

He felt a tug at his sleeve and felt a shard of quartz cratch a deep cut in one arm, but what caught his attention was the sight of Foxglove and Kennek falling to the ground. Twist had managed to keep herself, Teri and Rini warded and they came though the barrage unscathed. Spin and the women rushed to Foxglove’s and Kennek’s side. It turned out only Foxglove had been hit. “I’m more surprised the rest of you did not hit the deck,” he told them.

“Foxglove?” Twist asked.

“Hit me in the leg,” the Orent admitted. “Doesn’t really hurt. Not yet anyway.”

“You’re bleeding,” Teri observed.

Twist examined Foxglove’s leg and told him. “It’s a pretty deep gash but a few stitches should put you right, I’ll bind that wound with a ward for now, though. She concentrated and he immediately stopped bleeding as the cut seemed to close up on its own.”

“You healed him?” Rini asked, amazed.

“I wish,” Twist shook her head. “More like I applied a magical bandage.” She got back to her feet and looked back toward the Bond and the demons. “Spin, we’re not done by a long shot!”

“Would have been nice,” Spin replied. “Looks like we still have to deal with that Bond of Arithan too.”

“It can’t be active now that the other Bonds are gone.” Twist pointed out.

“Take another look,” Spin told here, “there are four spell strings attached to it all leading toward the south and there is energy still pulsing through the thing. My guess is that the demons are powering it now.”

“And you did not kill all the Sons and Daughters of Maiyim down there,” Teri told them, examining the area with digital binoculars. “I count at least a dozen people, roughly half are running for the woods. Uh oh.”

“What?” Twist asked.

“The ones who stayed are shooting fire or something like it at the cowards. And the demon who looks like a tree is headed toward us.” She, Rini and Kennel readied their guns, while Spin and Twist turned to deal with the Demon Gredac.”

Slipstream and Seastar made their way carefully toward where Wizard Flint and the Granomish mages were casting projectile wards toward the Sons and Daughters on the west side of large Bond. The two women could hear the sound of Tzali weapons, but when they got a glance toward the Bond with the materializing demons, they saw the Sons and Daughters were too well warded to be harmed that way. Pohn was taking hits, but while they hurt him, his body was proving indestructible. All that pain was just making him angry.

“Wizard Flint!” Slipstream called as she got close enough. “Spin and Twist sent us to warn you about the Bond.”

“Don’t look at it,” Flint replied. “Yes, we figured that out for ourselves. Nearly lost half of us right from the start. We’re fine now, however. You two should stay here with us. It’s too dangerous to go walking around.”

“We have to warn the others,” Slipstream maintained.

“You’re right,” Flint admitted. “But keep your strongest wards up.”

“You too, sir,” Slipstream replied. A moment later she and Seastar were on their way again.

The first quarter circle around the area where the battle was going on had been a fairly flat area with a few scrub trees and very high grass, but the next part mean slogging around and over dunes which meant they were out in plain sight and force to make their way through loose sand which frequently slid out from under their feet. However, when the big explosion came, they were completely shielded from direct impact by a dune. When a large chunk of magically created quartz slammed into the other side of the dune, however, the dune collapsed and buried them.

“Nothing like a well-executed plan,” Kestrel snarled as she picked herself up. Several large chunks and a hail of crystal shards had blasted their way. The mages had their wards up, but everyone was thrown around and some lost concentration in the process. “Anyone hurt?”

“Ma’am!” one of the Tzali reported, “Several of my people may have been killed and at least half of us have bad wounds.”

“See to your wounded,” Kestrel told him. She called to one of her colleagues, “Pyroclast, you’re pretty good at healing.”

“Aileron and I are already on it,” Pyroclast replied.

“Kestrel,” one of the other mages told her, “There’s a demon headed toward us.”

“Well, let’s not be ladies and gentlemen,” Kestrel commanded, “and don’t wait for him to shoot first.” She matched actions to words by shooting off a series of hot projectile wards at the demon. “Anyone recognize who that is?” she asked, on noticing she was having an only minimal effect.

“Has to be Kerawlat. He controls animal life forms.”

“Not many of those here,” Kestrel commented as she swatted a mosquito. “Oh, hell. Bugs are animal lifeforms aren’t they?”

“So are mice and rats,” her companion pointed out, “as well as seagulls and other birds.” He tried a fireball and Kerawlat seemed to just absorb it.

Kerawlat responded with a spell that blew a hurricane of rotten air at them. “What died?” another of the mages asked between choking sounds.

“We will if we don’t get some clean air,” Kestrel replied. Just then the ground shook violently and the air smelled better. “Earthquake?”

“That would be Xenlabit’s specialty,” Aileron told her, looking up form the Tzal she was helping. “Oh look, Kerawlat is turning on one of the other demons.”

“Dissension in their ranks is good for us,” Kestrel considered, “but… oh right! All demons have a component of disease in their spells. We can fight back most effectively with healing spells. Pyroclast, Aileron, we need you to lead the way.”

“You want us to heal Kerawlat?” Pyroclast asked. “Of what?”

Wizards Timbre and Orchid had different problems with Xenlabit. The stoney demon had gotten down on his knees and pushed his long hands deep into the surface of the Bond of Arithan.

“I thought that was set in concrete,” Orchid muttered.

“I think it is,” Master Persimmon, another of the mages from Merinne, told him. “He’s sort of pushing his hands between the molecules. The demons supposedly did that sort of thing all the time. It’s how they traveled through subsurface mystical pathways.”

“Seriously?” Orchid asked. “That sounds like some pseudo-magical nonsense from a Vid show.”

“I read that in a book one time in the Vault,” Persimmon replied. The “Vault” was a special floor in the University’s library where books to which access was restricted were kept. Any faculty member could visit, however, as well as any student with faculty permission.

“I have my suspicions about the accuracy of some of those books,” Timbre told him, sooting projectile wards at Xenlabit, “but I can’t deny what’s happening here.” The ground shook violently just then, knocking them off their feet. To Timbre’s surprise, the Tzali stayed up and continued to shoot at the demon.

“I don’t think we’re having much effect,” one of the Tzali told them.

“We need another plan,” Timbre agreed. “Look at Kerawlat.”

The animal demon had gotten back to his feet and clouted Xenlabit, knocking him face-first into ground. They roared back and forth at each other trading several blows until they were both on the ground. Tzali laser shots were fired at them, causing them to foget their argument.

The ground shook again. This time it was not so violent, but the rumbling went on much longer and it became apparent both Kerawlat and Xenlabit were now using wards to protect themselves. Orchid cast another projectile ward, willing it to phase through that of Xenlabit. The demon fell backwards, howling in pain.

“Hah!” Orchid laughed “I thought they might not know that trick. It was invented by Silverwind back about the time they were banished to their islands. They sure as heck won’t know what a multiphase ward is.”

Xenlabit got back to his feet, however and sent a spell toward the Orentan party. The ground split open and tossed them and the Tzali in opposite directions. Then he came running at them, his eyes blazing with a sick blue-green light.

The mages from Olen had their own troubles with the giant demon, Pohn. “He’s as dumb as a stump,” Amble remarked to Pulac-pa while the Tzali on either side of them continued to fire their weapons, “but he might just represent the greatest concentration of raw power ever in a living being.”

“Power is energy,” Pulac-pa remarked.

“What do you mean?” Moonsong challenged him.

“Can’t you drain the power out of him?” the Tzal asked.

“Sure we can,” Cirrus nodded, “but we need to break his connection with that Bond under his feet first. If you take a look, you’ll see that’s where he’s getting most of his power from. Break the connection and he’ll only have the same resources we do.”

“How do we break the connection?” Pulac-pa asked. “By destroying the symbol?”

“It’s worth a shot,” Cirrus shrugged. “Let’s, you and I, see about breaking up the pavement it’s set into. At the very least, maybe we’ll give the big boy a stubbed toe. Moonsong, Amble and the rest of you, try draining power out of Pohn while we do something about the Bond. Pulac, just work on breaking up the concrete and tossing chunks every which way.”

They got to work. The concrete broke far easier than Pulac-pa expected but the Bond of Arithan remained intact as a black symbol on the sand beneath. Meanwhile, the other mages were draining Pohn, causing a tall fountain of sparks to shoot upward miles into the air. The demon was immobilized and screaming in pain, but he was was still absorbing power from the Bond of Arithan.

Gredac was knocked on his feet by Xenlabit’s first tremor too. He shouted something over his shoulder but was intent on attacking Twist, Spin and the others with them. “Spells that heal plants!” Twist shouted to Spin and Foxglove. “That’s the weakness of Gredac’s Bond, it should be the same for the demon himself.”

“I only know some basic pesticide spells,” Foxglove admitted, “and one to stop dry rot.”

“Worth a try,” Spin replied, not bothering to admit he did not know much alomng those lines either, but Twist did and he worked cooperatively with her. Gredac screamed and fell to the ground, writhing with pain. He got back to his feet and cast a spell, but all the mages and Tzali felt was a mild wave of nausea.

Spin and Twist hit Gredac with another round of that healing spell and he shook violently, but this time did not lose his footing. “I think we need to vary our attack for maximum effect,” Twist told Spin. Together they sent a different healing spell and Gredac shrieked as large chunks of his bark-like skin flaked off and he oozed a thick green liquid that, under the magical assault, became thinner and more transparent. Finally, on the ground once more, the demon tried to scamble back toward the Bond on all fours. He never made it there.

Five

Master Flint and his team were not under direct attack and had been throwing every spell they could imagine at the demons, while the Tzali with them continued to fire their laser guns and shoot missiles. “Master Flint,” one of the other mages pointed toward the Bond where large chunks of cement were cracking off the paved surface and flying away. “It looks like someone is trying to disrupt that big Bond of Aritos.”

“Not managing it well, though,” Flint commented. He examined the situation at the magical level and saw the problem. “The bond might have started out as a marking on the surface, but it has a life of its own now and has four spell strings feeding it external power. Let’s disrupt those strings!”

Cutting a spell string is normally easily accomplished, but these strings kept growing back and reattaching themselves and that reminded Flint of something. “Has anyone ever read Silverwind’s description of his second battle with Arithan in Rjalkatyp.”

“Sure, back in my freshman year,” Master Obsidean replied. “I was never sure how much of what the old boy said was true and how much was just yarn spinning.”

“I am starting to think, Silverwind was telling us the literal truth,” Flint replied. “Do you remember the part where he described the demonic path that came up through the throat of Mount Rjal?”

“He claimed to have single-handely stopped the volcano,” Obsidean scoffed. “No one can do that.”

“Have you ever tried?” Flint challenged. “That is not my point, however. He described the demonic path and how he closed it off forever. If those strings are actually paths we need to do more than just cut them. We need to destroy them as far along their lengths as we can.”

“There might be an easier way,” Obsidean pointed out. “If they are paths, maybe we can splice them together rather than just cutting them off. If that works, these paths will become loops and the Bond will still be isolated.”

“It’s worth a shot,” Flint nodded. “Do you think we can work together on one pair?”

“Tricky,” Obsidean considered. “It might be too dangerous to trying something like that on the first attempt at cooperative magic. We’re not Islandtwist and Spinnaker, after all, but let’s make loops of both ends. I’ll do the ones that go south from here and you merge the ends that will still be attached to the Bond.”

“Any idea how to do that?” Flint asked.

“If these paths behave like normal spell strings,” Obsidean replied, “they ought to obey Diorite’s Second Observation.”

“A severed spell string will attempt to merge with the first spell string it comes into contact with,” Flint quoted. “All right, pick a pair and let’s try it. If it works, we’ll repeat with the other pair.”

For two accomplished mages, it turned out to be a simple enough task, but it had unexpected results. “The spell strings look like they’re feeding off each other,” Obsdiean observed. The ends I merged are shrinking back to the south and the one you did…”

“…is gone,” Flint finished for him. “I don’t like the way that Bond is glowing again. Everyone, get your wards up!”

Slipstream and Seastar were both warded when buried by the collapsing dune. Much to Seastar’s amazement, she had managed not to lose concentration, so when she stopped getting shoved around, she found herself in a small bubble surrounded by sand. “Slipstream?” she called out hesitantly. Then she did so again, much louder.

“Right here,” Slipstream replied from only a short distance. She stretched out her own ward and soon the two women were in the same buble under the sand. “Dark in here, isn’t it?”

“How do we get out?” Seastar asked. “Not much air in here and I think it’s going bad already.”

Slipstream sniffed, “Smells like dirt, but we still have enough oxygen.”

“Are you sure?” Seastar worried. Slipstream wondered if her young friend was claustrophobic and then shelfed the idea.

“We’re not going to be under here long enough to worry,” she replied confidently. She pushed her ward out to form a tunnel. “Crawl behind me and we’ll be out of here in no time.” A few minutes later she wished she was as good as her word, but they were still crawling through their moving air bubble in the sand but now Slipstream found she was starting to feel dizzy.

“We’ve got to get out of here!” Seastar started panicking.

Strangely enough it was only the sound of desperation in Seastar’s voice that allowed Slipstream to keep her head. “Don’t worry, Marliese. We’ll be fine. I think we’re just going in the wrong direction. I’m going to head us upward, instead.”

“Hurry!” Seastar urged. “It’s so dark! I don’t want to die like this!”

“You won’t, dear,” Slipstream replied and angled the tunnel upward. A minute later, she heard a moan from behind her, though. “Marliese?” She was met with only a whimper. Worrying she might make their situation worse, she pushed her ward straight up and into an expanding cone shape.

Suddenly there was light and fresh air only three feet up. “Come on, Marliese, we’re almost out.”

“No!” Seastar had wrapped herself into a fetal position with her eyes tightly shut.

“Open your eyes” Slipstream urged. “See for yourself.”

“No!” Seastar repeated. In response, Slipstream reached down with her mind and forced Seastar’s eyes open “Oh!” the teenager exclaimed and started crawling forward and up. A minute later, they were both standing with their heads in the air although the sand was still waist high around them.

Seastar regained her senses as quickly as she had lost them and allowed Slipstream to pick her up and deposit her on the edge of the open hole. Then she turned around and gave Slipstream a hand up. The Granomish mage let her hold on the hole in the sand go and the sand collapsed until it was just a deep depression in the side of the dune.

Slipstream looked around and realized, “No wonder it took us so long to get out! I got turned around and we were going the length of the dune.”

“It’s getting dark too,” Seastar noted. “How long were we down there?”

Slipstream looked at the watch implanted on the backof her wrist. “Wow! A lot longer than I thought. Come on! We still have to warn everyone about the Bond.”

“By now they probably figured it out for themselves,” Seastar pointed out.

“We don’t know that,” Slipstream told her.

“Huh?” Seastar said suddenly, “I see the sun setting in the west, why is it brighter to the east?”

Slipstream realized what that meant before her younger colleague. She pushed Seastar flat against the Sand and shouted “Wards!” She adjusted her own just in time and felt Seastar’s merge with it, placing them in a jet black bubble of energy that glowed greenish yellow on one side. The glow remained for an eternal-seeming moment and then slowly dimmed until there were in darkness once again.

“What was that?” Seastar asked as she relaxed the ward enough to see outside.

From their vantage point, Kestrel and her crew from the Isle of Fire saw the Bond of Arithan begin to glow. “Someone’s trying something new and exciting,” she commented and noticed that even Kerawlat’s attention had been distracted from them for the moment. “Wards up, everyone! And remember your history! Don’t look at that thing!”

Kestrel’s team had been working in pairs and by trained response they all warded themselves and their Tzali allies with cooperative wards. Unlike Slipstream’s and Seastar’s wards, theirs were not completely opaque and they saw the eruption of green-yellow light as it shot up and out of the Bond of Arithan. It beamed like a beacon straight up into space for over a minute and then slowly began to fade. In and around the area that had encompassed the Bond of Arithan the surviving demons roared when they realized that the very last vestige of their brother was gone and that they were now isolated from the islands that would allow them to renew themselves. They had to win the day or die right here on this obscure tropical island.

Kerawlat reached out his arms to gather in as much of Arithan’s waning power as he could and then turned toward Kestrel’s crew with renewed ferocity.

Elsewhere, the other demons were doing the same with the groups of mages nearest to them. Xenlabit’s power specialized with the movements of earth and water and he caused the earth to rip open creating a fissure directly under Timbre and Orchid’s team. They were all masters and wizards, however, and levitation came easily to them, but the Tzali soldiers had to scramble away from the yawning crack in the ground. “Wasn’t there a story that said you could fight Xenlabit with water purification spells?” one of the master mages asked Orchid.

“That was a fairy tale,” Orchid replied. “I remember that as a kid. It was one of the ones written by Ange of Tarnsa.”

“Who we have all heard of as Wizard Candle,” Timbre reminded him. “If anyone knew how to fight a demon, it was Candle. Let’s try that, and any other sort of anti-pollution technique you can think of.”

At the same time, Moonsong and the other mages from Olen renewed their battle with Pohn, doing their best to drain away his energy, but in the great release of power from the Bond of Aritos, Pohn had become half again as enormous as he had already been.

“You know,” Pulac-pa commented, “that ought to be impossible.”

“What is?” Cirrus asked just before Amble could.

“Well, his leg bones ought to be breaking under his increased mass,” Pulac-pa replied. “Square-cube law and all; as he grows larger and more massive, his bones do too, but their ability to withstand the pressure only squares whereas his mass cubes. Assuming his legs could hold him up at fifty-feet in height, they ought splinter at seventy-five, and yet there he is and shows no sign of having broken legs.”

“Well, the demons are supposedly indestructible,” Amble remarked.

“Nice time to tell me that,” Pulac-pa shot back.

“No one has seen, never mind had to fight one, in centuries,” Cirrus reminded him. “I thought the stories had just grown in the telling. Maybe they shrunk so as to be more believable?”

“I’m more worried about the size of that thing than I am about the stories people tell about them,” Moonsong pointed out. “Maybe it isn’t any more massive than it was before.”

“He doesn’t exactly look soft and fluffy,” Cirrus replied. “Or see-through…”

“I can’t do the calculation in my head,” Pulac-pa told him, “but I’m pretty sure he’d have to be a lot larger, given his starting mass to be translucent and at that point any stray gust of wind would tear him apart.”

Pohn started walking toward them again and the earth shook. “I think he turned the energy he absorbed into mass,” Amble told them, “and it is time we reversed the process.”

Pulac-pa was about to asked how the heck one did that and then recalled watching some of Methis’ lessons with Twist and Spin. That was the essence of creation magic and way over his training level, so instead he started rallying the Tzali in the area. “Stop shooting at that monster for now,” he advised. “He seems to be absorbing power and that includes the laser beams. Hold fire until we need the cover for a retreat or our friends over there request it.”

“Yes, sir!” one of the Tzali responded and turned to his troops. “You men and woman. Hold fire and wait.”

“Sir!” came the mass response. Then they all watched as the wizards and masters started to drain energy off the Demon Pohn. Some were creating bricks of lead or gold while others were just causing lightning to shoot straight up and out of Pohn’s body; lightning in reverse.

The mages from Querna saw what their colleagues from Olen were doing and joined in, increasing the lightning fountain dramatically. The ground shook violently again from another of Xenlabit’s earthquakes, but this time almost no one lost concentration. It had become part of the background to what they were doing. If anything, the tremors seemed to be losing strength.

To the north of the demons, Slipstream and Seastar had just arrived where Kestrel’s group was and found themselves facing a mass of Tzali laser guns. “Stand down, boys,” Slipstream told them with a bravado she did not feel and then added belatedly, “and girls. We’re the good guys.”

“I recognize them, sir,” one of the Tzali remarked.

“Sorry about that,” the Tzali leader told the two women, “We’re a bit jumpy. Kind of nerve wracking when you realize you’ve gone into battle with all the wrong weapons.”

“I can see that,” Slipstream allowed, “and I guess hearing us come up from behind didn’t help either.”

“You weren’t really all that quiet,” the Tzal gave her a barking chuckle. “If you were trying to sneak, I suggest a tour of basic training.”

“If I had to sneak,” Slipstream grinned, and lifted herself telekinetically off the ground. “I would have done it like this.”

“I guess I went through the wrong basic training,” the Tzal laughed again.

Seastar looked around. “Has no one thought to keep you guys under a ward?”

“A what?” the Tzal asked.

“A magical protection field,” Slipstream explained.

The Tzal looked dubious, but a moment later his gave them a close-mouthed grin. “Oh yeah, I forgot you Maiyimites have a weird tech you still refer to as magic.”

“Hey,” Seastar grinned, “You’re all Maiyimites now too. When we have time we’ll have to show you hows it’s done. Pulac-pa understands it.”

“Pulac-pa is an odd one like all loners are,” the Tzal replied, “but he’s also a great man. Well, when this is over you can teach me how to cast spells. Do I need a wand?”

“Only if you’re planning to conduct an orchestra,” Slipstream replied. “A staff comes in handy though. Seastar, why don’t you stay here and keep these people under a ward while I go find Kestrel?” Seastar nodded and Slipstream moved off.

“So you’re a wizard too?” the Tzal asked Seastar.

“Just an apprentice, I’m afraid,” Seastar responded as she adjusted her ward to protect all of them. “But my teachers say I’m pretty good. I’m Seastar, by the way.”

“Mathek Ferslakach,” the Tzal responded. They shook hands in the human fashion.

“You’re filthy! What happened to you?” Kestrel asked Slipstream as the younger mage came into view.

“Seastar and I got buried under a sand dune,” Slipstream explained, “and had to dig our way out.”

“Not a good day for the beach or burying each other in the sand,” Kestrel remarked. “What the hell are you doing here? You should be with Twist and Spin.”

“They sent us to warn everyone about the mesmerizing effects of the Bond of Arithan,” Slipstream replied.

“Well, no danger of that anymore,” Kestrel told her. “Right now I could use help with healing spells, Kerawlat there is susceptible to them, but he keeps adjusting to everything we use. Do you know any of that sort of magic?”

“I know first aid,” Slipstream replied.

“Huh! I hadn’t thought of that. Good thinking, Misana! Let’s try it!”

At first the simple first aid spells made Kerawlat howl, but soon he was able to counter that as well and began sending disease spells of his own in response. A swarm of bees could be heard all around them and the air seemed full of both them and mosquitos.

“Nildar and Wenni! Don’t let those bugs bite you,” Kestrel warned. “The Gods alone know what their bites might do to us.”

Meanwhile Twist and Spin had the upper hand over Gredac. The demon of botanical diseases, who should have had the best ammunition on this island, had been taken by surprise and in his panic was the first to try and escape. The destruction of the Bond of Arithan, however, had left him trapped and with his back to the mages and they drained his energy out of him without mercy. As they did so he proceeded to shrivel up on the sand and after a very long time he finally seemed dead, leaving only a stick figure on the sand. However, Spin and Twist saw that was a ruse on the demon’s part continued to drain Gredac until he burst into flame and was soon nothing but a pile of ashes.

“That’s one down,” Spin noted with satisfaction. “Someone seems to have a handle on Pohn.”

“He’s still the most powerful,” Twist pointed out. “Let’s do what we can to help out.” Soon there were bricks of silicon forming on the sand near the ones of lead and gold.

The purification spells from Timbre, Orchid and their team worked as well against Xenlabit as Spin’s and Twist’s strategy against Gredac had. The Earth and Water demon was bleeding water that as it left his veins seemed a polluted muddy sludge, but it dripped to the ground as pure and crystal clear. The demon’s tremors grew weaker and weaker until he was no longer able to fight at all. “Is that it?” Timbre wondered.

“Uh uh!” Orchid shook his head, “I think he’s just playing dead. See how he’s gathering more energy? Everyone, keep purifying him!” To Timbre, he said, “I’m going to try draining his power again. He’s too weak to stop me now.” Timbre nodded and Orchid went to work.

Orchid extracted the energy in the form of heat and, at first, the Demon Xenlabit was encased in an aura of flames. But gradually the flames dwindled as the demons body became colder and colder. A fog of mist formed, obscuring everyone’s view of the Xenlabit’s body, but even that condensed into frost on the sandy ground. By the time Orchid was satisfied there was nothing left of the demon by a pile of icy dirt and bone-shaped stones. That was when they finally had time to notice the figure of Pohn.

He was encased in a nimbus of lightning that shot into the upper atmosphere, but he was no longer even as tall as he had been when he first arrived. Realizing that draining him of energy was the best way to handle him too, the Orentan mages lent their talents to that project.

“We’re getting help from all around us,” Cirrus commented. “Everyone is draining him in their own way. There’s a lot of Pohn to go around, but we got him.”

Pulac-pa was using a pair of binoculars and he spotted several figures picking themselves up off the ground from where the edge of the Bond of Arithan had been. “Someone is down there, but it’s too dark to see just who it is.”

“Should we open fire, sir?” one of the Tzali asked.

“Whoever it is, they have to be the Sons of Daughters of Maiyim,” Pulac-pa decided. “Sure, give them a burst of gunfire.”

Tzali shots zapped out at the few surviving members of the Sons and Daughters and most fell dead to the ground. Three, however, were obviously protected by impenetrable wards. “Cease fire!” Pulac-pa ordered and took another look at the people beneath him.

Two of them tried to run away and then just fell in their tracks and Pulac-pa was ready to assume another unit of Tzali gunmen had gotten them until a flash of light revealed the face of the sole remaining survivor. She was a tall, dark-skinned Orent, dressed in a hooded black robe that had until now obscured her face. Without the hood in the way, Pulac-pa saw she was wearing a patch over one eye. “Henowa Bai!” he snarled. “It figures she would be the last one. Stay here. I have to find Spin and Twist!”

Six

By the time Pulac-pa found Spin and Twist, Pohn was only fifteen feet tall and continuing to shrink. Seeing them concentrating on the demon, he was afraid to interrupt, but Twist noticed him and asked, “What’s wrong, Pulac-pa?”

“How did you know I was here?” the Tzal asked, realizing Twist had not even turned to look at him.

“Sometimes when you concentrate on one thing, you become aware of everything around you,” Twist replied.

“Very deep.” Pulac-pa replied. “Does that mean anything?”

“Yes,” Twist replied. “Continue your studies and maybe you’ll figure it out. You are supposed to be with Mom, Dad and Uncle Cirrus, but you’re here now. What’s wrong?”

“I just spotted Henowa Bai,” Pulac-pa told her.

“What!” Twist spun to face him. Behind her, Pohn roared and she realized she had just put Spin off balance. “Sorry,” she told her husband and turned back to assisting in their battle against Pohn. To Pulac-pa she explained, “You startled me, but I don’t know why. We expected she was here somewhere. How many of her compatriots are left with her?”

“She’s the last, so far as I can tell,” Pulac-pa replied. “She killed the last two with her. I could swear she was draining them the way you are with the big guy there.”

“She killed the others who tried to get away too,” Twist told him. “We saw that happening, but did not know who it was. Look, do me a favor and see if you can spot her again. Then if you can, keep track of her. This time she is not getting away if I have to chase her to the Five Demons and back.”

Pulac-pa used his binoculars, but it was Teri who spotted Bai first. “There she is, running north toward the only other demon.”

“Kerawlat,” Twist nodded. “I wonder if she was originally a Kerawlat-alligned mage.”

“Didn’t she introduce Seastar to Xenlabit first?” Pulac-pa recalled. “I would have thought that was her first orientation.”

“Maybe,” Twist replied, “but that does not necessarily follow. Perhaps she just thought Marliese would be most vulnerable to the influence of Xenlabit. I wonder where Seastar is right now.”

Seastar was sitting with the Tzali to the north, trying to explain about the Gods of Maiyim and the ways they were worshiped. “Our gods,” one of the Tzali told her, “abandoned us, if they ever existed.”

“Maybe not,” Seastar told him. “We are taught that a few centuries ago the Gods decided it was time to let us be adults and that they stepped aside to allow us to grow because one can never truly be adult if you parents are always taking care of you. Perhaps the Gods of Tzal just made that decision a lot sooner. I know they cared enough to send one of their own with you when you came here.”

“Wraen,” the Tzal replied. “I never would have taken that one for a goddess.”

“I didn’t realize Wizard Fireiron was the Goddess Methis when I met Her a few months ago in Her home,” Seastar replied, “and Her husband is the god that most of our religions teach is the ultimate evil. He was very nice to me the first time we met. He even blessed me.” She smiled, remembering the one time she had communed with the Sign of Aritos. “I guess the Gods are really just people too when you get right down to it. Very powerful and wise people, but people, nonetheless. I probably shouldn’t go to temple any more though, unless a friend is getting married or something.”

“Why not?” one of the Tzali asked.

“My favorite god is the Devil Aritos,” Seastar laughed. “At least he is now. Saying something like that to a priest would get me excommunicated. Better to let people think I’ve just lapsed on my devotions. A lot of people do that, especially between the times they are children and when they are old.” There was an increased rumble of thunder above and beyond the crackling and rumbling that had been going on for over an hour. She looked over her shoulder and noticed the reversed column of lightning streaming off of Pohn had become more intense.

“What’s happening,” one of the Tzali asked her.

“I can’t tell for certain,” she hedged, but I suspect the Demon Xenlabit has been defeated. Killed, I hope,” she added, “and now they are helping the ones battling Pohn.” She took another look and thought silently, They ought to turn their attentions toward Kerawlat. He’s far cleverer than Pohn. That made her look to see how Kestral’s team was doing with the nearest demon and she felt her blood turn to ice.

Kerawlat was on his feet still and while he was bleeding copiously he seemed only a little weaker than he had been earlier. The buzzing of insects seemed to have stopped, but when Seastar took a look at the magical aspects of the battle she saw thousands of bright yellow spell strings shooting out of the demon. Following them with her mind she discovered the demon most associated with animals and their diseases was latching on to every monkey and burrowing critter on the island.

She recast her protective ward downward to block anything from getting at them from underground, but realized she needed to get word to Kestrel. “Uh, you.” She pointed at one of the Tzali women.”

“Hala,” the Tzal responded.

“Right, Hala. Please go find Master Kestrel and warn her that the demon is making mice and other burrowers attack us from out of the ground.” Hala nodded and then Seastar added hastily, “also monkeys might attack. Got that?”

“Burrowers and monkeys,” Hala nodded and ran off into the night.

“What’s a monkey?” another Tzal asked.

Seastar was explaining about primates and how monkeys were related to people when another of Tzali reported, “I see someone, a Maiyimite, down there running toward the demon.”

“A damned fool,” Seastar commented, but she took a look for herself and saw a black-robed Orent charging toward the demon, shouting something that could not be heard over the din. At just the last moment the Orent’s hood was blown off her head and Seastar recognized her in an instant. “Henowa Bai!” she growled, pulling as much magical energy into her staff as she could.

In the next instant, Bai reached the demon and took his hand. There was a flash of light followed by the roar of an explosion. Seastar blinked her eyes trying to clear them and when she could see again, Kerawlat and Bai had merged into a creature with Kerawlat’s body and Bai’s face. It had also doubled in size and glowed brightly with an aura that was the Bond of Keralat. The bright yellow spell strings had been replaced by ones that were thicker and dark red. Each one whipped out and wrapped around one of the people in the area. From her vantage point, Seastar saw Kestrel, Slipstream and all the mages with them taken under control by the Bai-Kerawlat creature.

The Tzali opened fire with their lasers and missile launchers again, but all they accomplished was to get caught up by the spell Bai-Kerawlat was casting. Then a magical tendril wrapped around Seastar and she felt her mind begin to die.

By the time the other mages were done with Pohn, he had shrunk to the size a doll and then he crumbled into sand. “Just one more,” Spin noted. Just then, there was a brilliant flash and the roar of a windstorm. “Was that a bomb?”

“No!” Twist shouted over the gale. “Look at Kerawlat. He’s merged with Bai and is casting some sort of spell. We have to disrupt it!”

They started running forward but were only halfway across the area the Bond of Arithan had been when a stunning blast of magical energy hit them through their wards, knocking them and everyone behind them out.

Seastar knew the touch of a demon’s mind. She had fought one successfully for years. This one, Kerawlat, did not have the finesse of his brother, Xenlabit, although his thoughts were just as unspeakably foul. Mixed in with those thoughts, Seastar could hear Henowa Bai’s as well “You are mine, girl!” Bai words thundered through her mind. “Mine forever!”

Seastar opened her eyes and realized that she had started walking toward Bai-Kerawlat, but she was able to stop now. She was still mentally ensnared. She could feel the hand around her thoughts, but she had freedom of movement for the moment. She looked around and saw Twist and Spin headed toward them. Then there was a dull red flash of light that pulsed away from the demon and both Spin and Twist collapsed to the ground.

“Never!” Seastar growled softly. She realized she was still holding her staff and it was properly charged. She wanted to shout a challenge. She wanted to tell Bai and the demon that she, Marliese Seastar Fonterre, was a real mage now and not some poorly trained puppet they could control, but there was no time for speeches and she understood deep down that doing so was the height of stupidity. She had to act now, so she willed the energy in her staff to merge with the spell string that attached her to Bai-Kerawlat and watched in her mind’s eye as the dull red tentacle turned pure white where it touched her and she willed that whiteness to surge back and into the demon.

The surge must have been felt by Bai-Kerawlat, because it turned just in time to see the bright white surge travel up the string and into its body, but before it could react, Seastar willed the white spell string to latch on to Henowa Bai, but not Kerawlat and then she mentality yanked it back toward her with everything she had.

The demon and Bai screamed together in agony for just a moment and then, as Seastar tore them violently apart, they screamed separately as both demon and woman fell to the ground. Bai looked up at Seastar for just a moment and, with a snarl, tried to cast a spell. Seastar was faster and shot a massive fireball at her one-time tormentor. When it had been spent, Bai’s charred body lay smoking on the sand, but Seastar had no time to contemplate what she had just done.

“Have mercy, Mistress!” the Demon Kerawlat croaked.

“How dare you?” Seastar snarled and then screamed, “How dare you!” She was about to blast the demon with fire too but her staff had been discharged at Bai. In the next instant, she realized that had been a mistake. She saw Kerawlat was already gathering energy into himself, so she shot a spell string of her own at him and then using the same technique that had worked so well to block translocation. She mentally grabbed on to Kerawlat’s energy and drew it as fast as she could into her staff.

The demon screamed again and tried to “grab” the energy back again, but Seastar had gotten the jump on him and drained him just enough that she was ultimately stronger. It was a tug-of-war, just like blocking a mage trying to translocate, but she had the upper hand. The longer it went on the weaker the demon became. The weaker Kerawlat got, the faster Seastar could drain him of any form of energy include that which made him alive. Her staff began to grow warmer and warmer and she knew she was over-charging it. Without thinking, she directed it out of the staff again although away from the demon and while the center she was holding began to cool, the ends caught on fire.

“Please!” Kerawlat begged one last time.

Seastar just shook her head and pulled the very last bit of life out of the demon, leaving him looking centuries dead and mummified. Only then did she realize her staff was only a foot long and still smoking at the ends.

“I’m going to need a new staff,” she mused before sinking to the ground herself, utterly exhausted.

Seven

“Is she hurt?” Seastar heard someone asking.

“Hah!” someone else laughed. “She’s tough as nails, that one. Just imagine what she’ll be like as a wizard.”

Seastar opened her eyes to find it was still nighttime. “Well, good morning, Sleepy!” Twist laughed.

“Is it?” Seastar asked.

“Well, it’s past midnight,” Spin replied from nearby, “and as mornings go, I can’t imagine a better one.”

“That’s right,” Twist agreed. “The war with Ferslakach Pack is over and we’re pretty sure all the leaders of the Sons and Daughters of Maiyim are dead.”

“What about,” Seastar began to ask, “…that woman?”

“Henowa Bai can never hurt you again,” Methis assured her as she knelt beside Seastar and helped her sit up, “though I must say I’d love to see her try. You, single-handedly, defeated both her and the Demon Kerawlat.”

“That was real?” Seastar asked. “No, don’t answer that. It’s coming back to me. I really fought with him for over an hour?”

“Maybe more,” Spin told her. You were the last one standing. Bai cast a spell that knocked us all out. By the time we woke up you were nearly finished. That was quite some sight to see you standing over what was left of Kerawlat, glowing with a pure white light and fire spurting out of the ends of your staff.” He picked up the small length of wood with burnt ends. You’re going to need a new one.”

“I said the same thing,” Seastar admitted, “though it is hard to believe I really did it.”

“Not many could,” Methis assured her, “but you managed to resist a demon untrained for years. You’re tough, but then, you would have to be. My husband is your favorite god.”

“You heard that?” Seastar asked, feeling embarrassed for no reason she could put into words.

“We were watching,” Methis shrugged, “but it says a lot about your inner self-confidence and ability to set your own values despite societal norms.”

“What?”

“You think for yourself,” Methis translated, “How are you feeling?”

“Pretty good, considering I ought to be dead,” Seastar replied. “I put too much of myself into the spell, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Spin confirmed, “but you didn’t really get all that close to killing yourself. We have you better trained than that, but you might have slept for a week or more.”

“I’ll try better next time,” Seastar assured them.

“Next time?” someone nearby asked incredulously. Seastar looked and saw it was Wraen, standing with the Gods of Maiyim. She strode forward. “Next time? Girl, you just killed the very last demon. There is never going to be a next time.”

“See?” Methis asked Wraen. “Do you still think a fleet from Tzal could prevail here?”

Wraen shook her head. “Not even with all my kind among them. What sort of people are these?”

“Just folks,” Methis shrugged and grinned.

“I imagine the Tzali could do the same in the right circumstances,” Aritos added.

“But you all have created people who could destroy gods!” Wraen exclaimed, “and you have allowed them to become powerful enough to do it.”

“But why would we want to?” Twist asked.

“Yeah,” Spin laughed. “Some of my best friends are gods.”

“You people are crazy,” Kennek added from somewhere to Seastar’s other side. When she looked, she saw the Tzali leaders as well as many of the mages who had come here to fight the demons. “But I would not have it any other way. Life on Maiyim is going to be fun and that’s not something I have said since I learned it was already inhabited.”

“None of us came here with war or species extinction in mind,” Rini added. “You’ll find that Tzali are aggressive and competitive, but we have no more stomachs for murder than the people of Maiyim do. Had it not been for the ‘Do or die’ mandate of our Colonization Board we would have just moved on to another system. Now we don’t have to.”

“We do have the matter of disposing of what’s left of the demons,” Moonsong reminded them all. “From what I have learned, they could be brought back to life if someone returned them to their islands.”

“That is true,” Aritos nodded, “but as their father, I believe the responsibility falls on Me.”

“Not this time, Brother,” Bellinen told him, “You have other responsibilities to prepare for.”

“What?” Aritos asked. He saw Merinne, the “Silent Goddess” of the Orenta smile and look knowingly at Methis. In turn the Granomish daughter goddess looked within herself and her skin turned ever so slightly translucent.

“Honey,” she told Aritos with a smile, “we’re expecting. But that would mean…” She trailed off and looked at her cousin, Wenni. The Orentan daughter goddess blanched but also looked within herself.

“Us too, dear,” she told Nildar.

“About time, but when?” Nildar asked.

“We gods gestate for a long time compared to our mortal children,” Emmine told them. “I carried Nildar within me literally for eons.” Querna and Merinne nodded agreement. “It is likely to be the same for you two, but even now there is seismic activity in the Methis and Wenni Oceans. Eventually new land will form there and they will be the birthplaces of new life.”

“That is a very long way off,” Aritos pointed out.

“But we all need to prepare for it now,” Gran assured him, “but first, Wraen are you ready to give your report to the Tzal Colonization Board.”

“I am,” Wraen agreed. “The first and most important point is ‘Hands off Maiyim or face destruction’.”

“They’re going to love hearing that!” Pulac-pa laughed.

“I do not intend to give them any choice in the matter,” Wraen replied firmly. “The second point is that they must change their colonization policies…”

“Or face destruction?” Pulac-pa asked.

“Or all of the Homeworld will face destruction or at least subjugation,” Wraen replied. “By the time they get my report I can see there will already be interstellar colonists from Maiyim and given the way Maiyimites will colonize, there will be more successful colonies from Maiyim than there will be from the Homeworld by the time they could even try to attack if they made that mistake. Even if they think to avoid war, they must revise their policies or they will be out-competed by Maiyim. Besides, there is more value in cooperation than competition. I see that now and in a few centuries, I’ll be back. Not to cause trouble, but because I really do want to see what happens here next.”

Epilogue – Maiyim Bourne

The hull of Maiyim Bourne cut through the waves off the coast of Olen County. “Ready about!” Spin shouted the age-old nautical command and then, “Hard alee!” and turned the boat’s wheel until they were racing with the wind. “Are you all ready to fly?” he asked his passengers.

Today Maiyim and her crew were playing host to Kennek, Rini and Teri Ferslakach. The Tzali alpha primes had recently concluded a tour of Maiyim designed to meet their fellow world leaders, but before returning to the Tzali nation of Robander, they decided to accept Spin’s and Twist’s vacation invitation. It was truly their first chance to relax in years and they were making the most of it.

“The boat flies too?” Kennek asked. Rini was sitting next to him in the stern, nursing their infant son, Rinnek. She held him securely in her middle limbs, but steadied him with one of her upper arms as well.

“In a manner of speaking,” Maiyim told him. “I have hydrofoils. I guess you could call them wings that lift me out of the water if I am moving at a sufficiently high velocity.”

“Wait and see,” Spin told them and then shouted, “Ready about!” once again. “Deploy the foils!”

Seastar, did the honors and turned a small wheel near the helm. At need, Spin could have done it himself, but, a conservative mariner, he preferred to keep both hands on the helm especially when about to hydroplane.

The boat suddenly lifted up and out of the water until only the foils, the keel and the rudder were still in the water. She quickly picked up speed until she was moving nearly the same speed as the wind in her sails. A splash of sea water hit the foils and sprayed lightly over everyone. In the bow, Teri gave a whoop of delight at both the velocity and the sensation of salt spray in her face.

“The wind seems to have slacked off,” Rini remarked. “Why are we still moving so fast?”

“We’re traveling with the wind,” Spin explained, “and we’re still picking up speed. Until the invention of motorized boats, Maiyim Bourne was the fastest vessel in the world and can travel several times the actual speed of the wind, much the same as some land-speeders from Tzal that Pulac-pa told me about. There was a fad, a long time ago, when her design was copied and used by yacht racers all over Maiyim, although none of them proved quite as fast as Maiyim Bourne herself.”

“Well, I was created by Nildar and Wenni,” Maiyim told them proudly.

“I have some iced lerta, if anyone wants,” Twist offered from inside the cabin.

“That would be lovely,” Rini told her and Twist soon appeared on deck with the cold Tzali drink as promised. Behind her, Slipstream climbed up with two trays of pastry, one for the Tzali and one for everyone else.

“Hey, you guys!” Twist called toward the bow. “Anyone want a snack?”

“I’m famished!” Foxglove replied instantly.

“You always are,” Twist laughed to herself and she watched him come astern with Pulac-pa and Teri.

“When are you expecting?” Rini asked Twist who had only learned of her pregnancy a few days earlier.

“Not for seven months, at least,” Twist replied, smiling, and glanced lovingly at Spin.

“Same as me!” Teri exclaimed delightedly.

“I hope all our children will be good friends,” Rini told her.

“Why not?” Twist replied. “We already are.”

“That’s odd,” Rini remarked. “I never really had friends on the Homeworld. Not the way you do here. Everything was such a competition there. You had to either dominate or be dominated. This really is a much nicer world to bring up children on.” The other Tzali nodded their agreement in the human manner. They had adapted to Maiyim’s customs almost as rapidly as Pulac-pa had. Twist decided it might be a species survival trait, but privately admitted it might also be a good habit for diplomats.

“I never knew sailing could be such fun!” Teri enthused around a mouthful of pastry a few minutes later. “I could do this forever!”

“Are there any professional yachters?” Pulac-pa wondered.

“I’m sure there are,” Spin replied. “Yacht racing is a sport of the rich and I suppose they must have to hire crew people.”

“Not most of them,” Twist corrected him, “but the international racers do.”

“Ooh!” the distracted Teri cooed. “What’s that?”

Pulac-pa looked off to starboard and spotted a group of surfers. Most were waiting on their boards for a wave they liked but several had already chosen and were riding in toward shore. “They call it surfing,” he explained. “They ride waves while standing on a specially designed board.”

“Sounds like fun!” Teri replied.

“You’d better learn how to swim then,” Pulac-pa advised.

“Swim?” Teri mused. “Uh, yes, I can see the need. Is it hard to learn how?”

“Most of our species have an aversion to being immersed in water,” Pulac-pa pointed out, “but somehow I don’t think that will be a problem for you. And swimming is just the start to getting into all water sports; skiing, kayaking, sailboarding, waterpolo… the list goes on.”

“Wow!” Teri responded. “I didn’t know you could do so much in the water. I guess it’s a good thing I’m still fairly young.”

“You might want to hold off on the more exciting activities until after your child is born,” Twist advised.

“I suppose,” Teri agreed reluctantly. “Maybe I should work on things to do in the snow instead.”

Pulac-pa laughed while the others pointed out that while Robander was ideal for many winter sports she would still have to take it easy as the day of her child’s birth approached. “Look at it this way,” Twist told her, “at least we only have to be pregnant for a few months. Methis and Wenni have eons to go.”

“There is that,” Teri agreed. “The poor dears. Can you imagine having to carry a child that long?”

“All told,” Kennek told Spin, “I think we chose well when we decided to come to Maiyim. It might be the first time in Tzali history that a war resulted in everyone winning. I only regret we did not start out by talking instead. I am working on my memoirs, by the way.”

“That should be an interesting read,” Spin replied.

“I hope so,” Kennek told him. “I do not really care if it is widely read, but I want future colonists from Maiyim to know exactly why we did what we did so they won’t make the same mistakes.”

“It’s big galaxy out there,” Spin laughed, “I’m sure there is room for many more mistakes.”

“Good point. I’ll make a note of that too,” Kennek decided. “Each system we colonize will have its own unique problems and solutions. We need to be flexible and creative. Did you know we are sending five scout ships out next month?”

“I did not realize you had any ready yet?” Spin replied.

“You know our fleet traveled as a single attached unit to get here?” Kennek asked. Spin nodded. “Well, we fitted three of our medium-sized vessels together but will only assign a crew necessary for one ship. That will give them plenty of living room and enough food storage for a safe round-trip voyage. Future scouts, we plan to build specially for the purpose, but this is the start of Maiyim’s investigation into her interstellar neighborhood. Right now we are calling for volunteers from every nation for the program.”

“And how soon do you expect to hear back from them?” Spin asked.

“It will be several decades before we hear from the first one,” Kennek admitted, “but we have to start somewhere.”

“It might be interesting to visit other worlds,” Slipstream commented. “Maybe, that’s what I’ll do after I finish earning my wizard’s degree. What about you, Seastar? Want to go with me?”

“I don’t think so,” Seastar shook her head. “I want to see us go to other worlds and will support that effort, but Maiyim is world enough for me and while no one would believe me outside our little circle of friends, I know there are two new archipelagos forming right now and I think it might be interesting to study them as they start to form.

“Just think, someday there will be two new sapient species on Maiyim and we’re still living in their prehistoric period,” Seastar pointed out. “We may have a long history ourselves, but when you think about it, life for all of us is still just beginning.”

Afterword

Is it over? Yes.

I did have it in my mind to write a short story in which Wraen returns to Maiyim nearly four centuries later. Naturally, she could hardly stop in on Robander to report to Kenek and Rini. Neither would have still been alive, so instead I imagined her turning up on Methis’ doorstep. Methis would invite her in for tea or lerta and would tell Wraen all that had been happening in her absence. In return we would hear about Wraen’s experiences back on Tzal. However, it occurred to me that the story really would not add anything of substance to the series. I really cannot think of anything I did not manage to hint at in this book.

I suppose some readers might be interested in whether Slipstream would really join the colonial service. If so, given time dilation, she might still be alive somewhere, and did I need to describe all that Seastar would accomplish or go into details about Twist’s and Spin’s children? I decided not to even work it all out for my own curiosity. Let’s just assume that they all went on to live their lives. In those lives there would be good times and bad times, great triumphs and tragedies, just like anyone else, but I think that, in all, their lives had more good than bad in them.

So the good news is I will not be writing that story. As for other stories, you might wonder if I plan to write about space colonists from Maiyim. I suppose the teams composed of four sentient species would make for interesting stories, but it seems to me that stories about space colonization from a planet on which magic is the basis for technology, might be a bit too far a stretch. No, wait, I already used that in The Terralano Venture stories…

Jonathan Feinstein
Westport, MA
June 4, 2015

Desired Results

Stories by Jonathan Edward Feinstein

Author’s Foreword

Prologue: Asteroid 2572-XY37

Part 1 – Seastar

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Part 2 – Alexai Trellov

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Part 3 – Kennek Ferslakach

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Part IV – The Sons and Daughters of Maiyim

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Epilogue – Maiyim Bourne

Afterword