Tag Archives: friendship


An amnesiac Merc on the run falls for a sorceress hiding deadly secrets. In the Kingdom of Askela being born a Magi means slavery to the Kings Witch Proctors or a death sentence. Rebecca will do anything to save her family from them—she accepts marriage to a Merc with a price on his head, not expecting to fall in love. But to be together, Andre and Rebecca will start a war to remake their entire world. Can They do it?


Spell of The Magi

A Portal World Tale

Gail Daley

In The Beginning

On a planet called Earth in the Milky Way Galaxy, a way to travel from world to world was discovered in the late 22nd Century. Were these new worlds simply other planets in the known galaxy or did the gateways lead to other dimensions with other physical laws? Or perhaps—both?

            Earth itself was constantly beset by strife and wars. The portals became simply another item to be fought over. It came to pass that a group on the losing side of one of these conflicts captured and held a Portal for a space of half a year, and seeing inevitable defeat in their future, sent their families ahead to another world. As the winning forces flooded the city, the last of the losers fled through the Portal, erasing their destination as they left so they couldn’t be hunted down by their enemies.

            Travel now to the world of Rulari, the new home of the escaping Terrans. Not only does time march differently on Rulari, but this world answers to the rule of will, of heart, of mind and of magic as much as the laws science had governed earth.

            Humans are very adaptable and began to prize those families with the ingrained talent to use magic. In the years since man first came to Rulari, Seven Places Of Power were searched out, new portals established and enclosed in keeps held by the seven of the most powerfully gifted families. Formidable wards were created and set to assure the keeps stayed in the control of the families, who were sworn to serve the best interest of the magic users or Magi as they came to be called. One of these ancient keeps was Ironlyn, on the northwestern sea of the country of Askela. It is held by a family named Mabinogion.


The Witchlings

Kathlea Mabinogion, heritary Draconi to the shire of Ironlyn, was a powerful, unregistered Magi. Her much loved husband Maxton was a great soldier, but he had no talent other than his swordplay. Magi were highly valued in the kingdom of Askela but only if a registered member of the Shan’s Elite Magi Proctors. Unregistered Magi were hunted by the Magi Proctors and forced to join. When a Magi became a Proctor, to ensure loyalty only to the Shan and the Proctors, the Proctors insisted all family ties be broken. To breed stronger Magi, the Proctors would choose a mate for you. It mattered little to the Proctors if the Magi ‘recruited’ was already mated, in a relationship or if they even liked their assigned partner. If she had been a registered Magi, Kathlea would never have been allowed to marry Maxton. If the Proctors caught her now, they would try to force her to mate with a male Magi they had chosen and her children would be tested for Magi talents. Any of her Magi gifted children would be separated from her and sent to a special school where they would be indoctrinated in loyalty to the Proctors above all else. Maxton would be killed outright.

Years ago, the rebellious unregistered Magi of Askela had formed a network called the Magi Cadre organized to enable Magi to escape the nets spread by the Proctors. Travelers like the Maginogion family picked up Magi hiding from the Proctors and aided them to escape to neighboring countries where the Magi Laws were different. For the truly desperate, there was Ironlyn Keep and a portal to another world. As the spymaster for the Cadre, Lewys Mabinogion, Kathlea’s father traveled around the kingdom eking out a living selling spices, potions and medicine to various villages. While Lewys and his family worked at overseeing the Cadre network, Lerrys Maginogion, a cousin without Magi abilities held Ironlyn for them.

Magical in itself, Ironlyn had defied attempts by the Shan and the Magi Proctors to force their way into it. Unable to break the wards or decipher the spell that created them, the Proctors continually searched for members of the bloodline in the hope they would be able to force a way into the Keep and control the Gate.

Kathlea had born Maxton three children, Rebecca, age ten and the twins Catrin and Owen, age four, all of whom were showing signs of nascent Magi talent. There was also hope of a fourth child, but Kathlea hadn’t yet shared that with her family on that fatal day when the Proctors found them.

On Rebecca’s tenth birthday, the Proctors found them. Her grandparents had driven their wagon into a nearby village to meet their contact and pick up a Magi hiding there. Kathlea and Maxton had stayed behind because it was rumored the Proctors were in the village, and Lewys Maginogion felt that two Traveler wagons would draw too much attention.

Rebecca and the twins had been playing under the wagon when Kathlea suddenly stood up and looked towards the town.

“What is it?” Maxton demanded.

“He’s coming!” Kathlea gasped. “I feel him. He knows I’m here.”

She turned to Rebecca. “Go! Hide where we found the berries. Be quiet, and keep the twins quiet also. Don’t come out whatever you see or hear. Promise me!”

“I promise,” Rebecca said. She grabbed Catrin and Owen’s hands and ran into the bushes. They barely made it before the Proctor and his men thundered into camp.

Unknown to Rebecca, her mother cast a shadow spell on the children to keep them from being noticed. While her attention was diverted, the Proctor cast a Binding Spell on her to keep her from using her Rainbow Magic to help her husband as he fought the Proctor’s guards. Rebecca could see the bubble of magic over her mother push outward as Kathlea tried to break through it. Hidden in a hollow in the brush with her hands covering the mouths of her brother and sister, she watched in terror as her father fought the guardsmen who came with the Proctor.

Catrin whimpered. “Hush!” Rebecca breathed and the children obediently stilled.

The Proctor had brought ten guards with him. Maxton fought like a demon to reach him, slaying all but four of his guards before an unlucky strike brought him down. Kathlea screamed.

“Shut up woman!” the Proctor yelled. “You are Magi and a strong one. I will let him live if you do not resist.”

Sobbing, Kathlea allowed herself to be led away, the bubble binding her to the saddle. The remaining guards loaded up their dead and wounded comrades and followed their master.

Rebecca made the twins wait until the Proctor and his men had disappeared before they came out of hiding. Maxton was unconscious but alive. Anghard, Rebecca’s grandmother had just begun to teach the girl healing, but she bathed and bound her father’s wounds as well as she could, applying a poultice of crushed bayberry and skunkweed to stop the bleeding.

Lewys and Anghard had been forced to watch as the Proctor led their captive daughter through the village, arriving back at the camp to find Maxton alive but still unconscious.

As soon as he recovered, Maxton left to follow and try to rescue his wife from the Proctors. The family packed up and left the area, traveling in a roundabout way toward the Capitol city of Khios where the Proctors were headquartered, hoping to be able to help their daughter and her husband.

Lewys learned through his contacts that Kathlea had arrived there and been taken into the inner courts for training, but he could discover nothing more. Almost a year later, news came that Maxton and Kathlea were both dead.

“It is a tale of love and defiance to inspire rebels against the Proctors for generations,” the woman, an escaped Magi, brought the news. “He fought his way in to her, and they defied the Chief Magi Proctor himself, but they were trapped on the highest tower of the castle above the ocean cliffs. They kissed each other and jumped into the ocean. It is believed they drowned.”

Anghard sobbed. Lewys Maginogion’s face was hard.

“Someday, I will kill them,” he said. “All who support this cursed system that destroys families.”

The woman telling the tale looked frightened. “There is more,” she whispered. “It is rumor only, but they say before her husband found her your daughter was delivered of a babe who was smuggled out of the compound by a servant woman.”

“What happened to the child?” Anghard asked, a desperate hope in her voice.

The woman shrugged. “Your daughter had been kind to her and she was well paid to smuggle her out of the nursery. That is all I know. I’m sorry.”

“You are sure the babe was a girl?”

The woman hesitated. “That is what I was told, but—”

Anghard pressed her hand. “Thank you.”

She turned to her husband. “We can’t go back to Ironlyn until we find the child, Lewys.”

Fire Magic

Thirteen years passed and the family never forgot their lost daughter or the child she might have born. The night the wasting fever took Rebecca’s grandmother, spring was just starting to push up through ground that was frozen hard with winter. She and Catrin had been able to find only a few spring blooms to scatter on her body as they prepared it for the dawn service.

Rebecca stood under the funeral Pyre looking up at the sky, feeling the weight of responsibility on her shoulders, now that her grandmother was no longer there to share it. Anghard had fought the wasting sickness, and fought hard, but after months of agonizing illness, she succumbed. “You will be Draconi now,” she told Rebecca. Holding her granddaughter’s firm young hand in her wasted one. “Take care of your grandfather and your brother and sister. It will be up to you to find our lost one.” She had pressed an amulet into Rebecca’s hand. “Use this to help you skry for her.”

“I’ll find her grandmother,” she vowed. “Mother is gone, but if her child lives, I’ll find her. I promise.”

Rebecca’s straight, blue-black hair, plaited into a braid as thick as a man’s arm, fell to her waist. Clear grey eyes below slanted eyebrows stood out against her porcelain complexion that never took a tan. The resemblance between her and the woman now resting on the funeral pyre was uncanny.

“It’s hopeless; we will never find our baby sister,” Catrin said, wiping her eyes. She and Owen were sixteen now, a tall strapping pair, with curly dark hair, their father’s green eyes, and sunny smiles. Just now their faces both showed evidence of grief.

Rebecca looked over at Lewys Maginogion’s ravaged face. He would miss his beloved Anghard. She reached for her sibling’s hands. “He will stay with her tonight, I think. Let’s go back to camp.”

Dinner that night was a simple stew which they ate in silence. Afterwards, Owen moved the rope corral around the unicorn herd to a fresh location. The herd consisted of twenty mares and half-grown colts. It was their Grandfather’s pride and joy. Moving from village to village, Lewys would occasionally sell one of the younger ones, if he decided an owner was worthy to own one, but they all knew the herd was destined for the pastures of Ironlyn when they finally took up residence there.

Anghard’s funeral pyre would be set afire at dawn, as was the custom. Rebecca and Catrin were finishing up the supper dishes and setting out the bread to rise for breakfast the next morning, when they had unwelcome visitors–several men from the town outside the Trade Station where they camped.

The leader, John Thomas Lazarus was an important man in the nearby village of Joppa. He had expected these Travelers to be awed by his importance, and was displeased when they were not.

“What, no dancing around the fire? I was looking forward to that,” he said jovially.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Lazarus,” Rebecca replied quietly. “We are not entertaining visitors tonight. This is a camp of sorrow. Our grandmother Anghard passed into the great beyond this afternoon. Please excuse us.”

She went back to wiping down the clean plates, ignoring him, hoping he would take the hint and go away.

Instead, he threw some coins down on the ground. “Here, I’ll pay for my entertainment.”

She made no move to pick up the coins. “No, Sir.”

Lazarus frowned, but he hesitated. “Maybe I should ask the old man. Where is he?”

“Grandfather is sitting vigil with Grandmother,” Owen, who had just returned to the camp, replied.

Lazarus looked at him in incredulity. “You mean someone really did die?”

The three just looked at him in silence.

“I see. Alright, I’ll be back tomorrow then.” He turned and left.

Owen spat on the ground at his back.

“Make sure he really leaves,” Rebecca said. “I intend to skry for our lost sister tonight, and I don’t want a witness.”

“He and the others have left the Trade Station Circle and headed back into town,” Owen reported. “Becca, are you sure this is a good idea? Grandmother always did it before.”

Rebecca pulled out the bronze stone that had been Anghard’s last gift to her. “Yes. I feel her spirit strongly tonight. She will help me before she passes on. I know it.”

Catrin unrolled the ancient map of the kingdom, stretching it on the wooden folding worktable that served a variety of uses. She held down the map corners with four flat stones.

Rebecca pulled the necklace over her head and held the stone in one hand. She cut a small prick in her finger and rubbed it over the stone. Holding the stone over the map, she rubbed the blood on its surface.

“Bone of my bone, blood of my blood, flesh of my flesh, seek now she who is lost.”

Catrin picked up the knife and did the same. Handing the knife to Owen, she too rubbed the stone and map with a bloody fingertip, and repeated the chant.

After a second’s hesitation, he repeated the actions and joined in the chant.

At first, nothing happened, but finally, the stone began to swing gently. There was a surge of power and then the stone pulled strongly toward the west, finally coming to rest on the symbol for the village of Buttersea.

All three felt the soft caress as Anghard left them for the final time.

“What have you done?” Lewys demanded.

Catrin looked up at him with tears running down her face. “It was grandmamma. I felt her,” she sobbed.

“We all felt her,” Rebecca said coolly. “Look, we have a destination.”

Lewys stared down at the map with the stone resting on it. “Yes,” he sighed. “We will be going west in the morning. I heard from Cousin Lerrys. He needs to leave Ironlyn. The local Proctor is getting suspicious because so many Magi have disappeared in the area surrounding Ironlyn. We will go home. That village is on the way. If your sister is there, we will find her.”

Rebecca nodded. “We will be ready.”

“I need to go into Joppa tomorrow and pick up the supplies I ordered. You three will stay here and pack up so we can leave when I return,” Lewys instructed.

At dawn, Lewys came to wake them. They stood quietly, while he lit the pyre, watching in silence as Anghard’s earthly remains were consumed.

Breakfast was a subdued meal. Afterwards, Lewys put a pack saddle on one of the mares, saddled his stallion, Sunrise and left for Joppa, the village outside the Trade Station. His grandchildren began packing the two wagons for the journey. It was a complicated process. The limited space meant that everything had to be stowed in exactly the right place or it wouldn’t all fit.

Packing took longer than it should have because Owen kept stuffing things in higgledy-piggledy. It was obvious he was in a hurry. After she had unloaded and re-packed the things he had already packed several times, Rebecca turned to him in exasperation. “What is wrong with you? This will take forever if you aren’t more careful. Why are you in such a hurry?”

Catrin laughed. “He wants to get done so he can hurry over and say goodbye to Fiona,” she said with a knowing look.

“The Station Master’s daughter?” Rebecca inquired.

Owen nodded.

“Okay, take off then,” his sister said. “The way you’re working, we’ll get on better without you. Scram!”

Her little brother kissed her cheek and loped off toward the Trade Station.

“Grandpa told us all to stay here,” Catrin remarked.

“I know,” Rebecca replied, “but he’s only young once.”

Catrin laughed and began repacking the pots and pans Owen had made a mess of.

“Leave a space for what Grandpa is bringing back,” Rebecca reminded her.

“What is it, do you know?” Catrin asked.

“Not a clue,” her sister replied. “He was very mysterious about it.”

“Well, we’ve finished,” Catrin said, a few minutes later. “I suppose we can harness the unicorns. Whose turn is it today?”

Lewys’ prize unicorn herd were mostly draft animals and to keep from overusing any of them, the family rotated the ones used to pull the wagons.

“Let’s rotate the teams,” Rebecca suggested. She went to the rope corral and called four mares to her. She was about to lead them over to the front of the first wagon when they again had an unwelcome visitor; Lazarus was back.

“Not leaving already are you?” he asked Catrin, looking the girl up and down in a way that made her flush with embarrassment.

“Yes, we are,” Rebecca answered him. She deliberately led the four large unicorns between him and Catrin, forcing him to move back out of the way.

“Really?” he sneered. “Leaving without allowing me to sample your wares? I don’t think so.”

Rebecca’s eyes narrowed. She understood exactly what type of ‘wares’ he referred to, but pretended she didn’t.

“I’m afraid we’ve already packed away our herbs and medicines, Mr. Lazarus,” she said.

“I’m not talking about any piddly spices girl and you know it,” he said.

“Catrin, get in the wagon and lock the door,” Rebecca told her sister.

Catrin hesitated, but obeyed her.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Lazarus,” Rebecca continued, “but we aren’t receiving visitors, and my grandfather and brother will be back soon. I need to get our unicorns harnessed. Please excuse me.”

She lined up the unicorns and was preparing to throw the first harness over one’s back when Lazarus grabbed her.

Rebecca fought him, but he was stronger than she. When she landed a lucky kick on his knee, he slapped her hard across the face. The dizzying blow stunned her long enough for Lazarus to rip her blouse open. He yanked her to him and mashed his mouth down on hers.

When she tried to turn her head away, he grabbed a handful of her hair and forced her face back to his. With her arms pinned against his body, she was unable to move. Finally, she managed to free one of her arms and stabbed at his eyes with her fingers.

Lazarus hit her again, this time with his fist. She stumbled and fell to her knees, dizzy. He knocked her the rest of the way to the ground, following it up by falling on her body. He tore her blouse the rest of the way off, biting at her bared breast. The pain brought her awake, and she clawed at his face and head.

When she felt him fumbling at the buttons on her pants, she knew she wasn’t going to be able to stop him unless she used her Magi talents. Rebecca was a fire Magi; fear and anger ignited her Magic. A fireball burst in his face, causing his greasy hair to catch fire. Lazarus screamed and drew back, slapping at his burning hair.

Suddenly, he was knocked off Rebecca by the solid twack! of a camp shovel wielded by Catrin, who had disobeyed her sister and come to help. He fell to the side, unconscious, with his hair still smoldering.

When Lewys and Owen arrived a few minutes later, they found Rebecca leaning on her sister’s shoulder while Catrin applied one poultice to her swollen face and another to the vicious bite mark on her breast.

Lewys looked down at Lazarus in silence. He had checked the man for life signs and was disappointed to find him still alive. “You should have made sure he was dead,” he informed his granddaughters.

“We can still do that,” Rebecca said, half hysterically.

“No, child we can’t. It would be murder. Owen, go and get Trade Master Jordan.”

When Catrin started to take Rebecca inside the wagon, Lewys stopped her. “Better he sees her just like she is, so he knows this was justified,” Lewys said.

The Trade Master arrived in Owen’s wake, puffing. He was a round man, no longer made for running.

“Oh, no, Oh, no,” he kept repeating, wringing his hands. “This is bad.”

“It was self defense,” Lewys reminded him. “Look at my granddaughter. Since when is it bad to stop a man from raping her?”

“Since the man is John Thomas Lazarus!” Jordan snapped. “You don’t live here. He is the most powerful man in this county. He owns half the farms around here and at least a third owe him money. He pretty much does as he pleases.”

“Including rape?” demanded Lewys.

“I’ve heard rumors,” Jordan said. “Well, the first thing is to get you out of here. You boy,” he pointed at Owen. “Get those unicorns harnessed. I’m going to the village to round up a few men to help me collect Lazarus and take him back into town to a healer. You need to be on the road by the time I return from town. I can give you about an hour. Who knows? Maybe he’ll die in the meantime and solve both our problems.”

While Lewys and Owen harnessed the unicorns to the wagons, Rebecca threw off her torn blouse and put on a loose comfortable shirt. She mounted the wagon box and took her place to drive.

“Are you able to do this, girl?” her grandfather looked up at her from the back of his golden unicorn.

She set her hat firmly on her head and nodded. “Yes, lets just go away from here.”

They camped that night by a small creek deep in the black leaf forest, Lewys having decided that it would be wiser to avoid the Trade Stations until they were a long way from Joppa. Spring had brought out a few fresh grasses in the glade next to the stream for the animals to feed on.

The next morning, he ordered the sides of the wagons whitewashed, so they would appear a different color. Catrin was told to prepare a concoction he said would dye the unicorn’s coats a different color. It turned Sunrise and the mares’ golden coats to a dull brown.

To make Owen appear older, he brought out a fake beard for him to put on each morning, and told him to stop shaving. He would do the same.

It was while they were dyeing the unicorns that Rebecca found the three hungry kittens near the body of their mother. They were very young and hadn’t yet grown the white manes they would have as adults. Gathering up the kits in her arms, she brought them back to camp. Milking one of the nursing unicorns, she mixed the rich milk into a feed for them.

For several weeks, the family continued to travel north and west avoiding any villages and Trade Stations. Spring was in full bloom, when they camped in a clearing outside the village of Duranga. Duranga had no proper Trade Station, but the town had designated the clearing as common ground where Travelers or Trade Caravans could stop over.

A Spell Is Cast

Harry Sims, the proprietor of the Glass Slipper Tavern, was an unhappy man on this fine spring evening. He should have been happy. The Glass Slipper was full. The Spring Jamborees for local stock collection and sale had just finished and all the holdings, small and large were in town and spending coin freely.

The chief cause of his unhappiness was not the rowdiness of the crowd; he was long accustomed to that. No, the cause of his worry was the five-man dice game going on in the corner. Harry knew four of the five players well. Leej Jonsyn, the rug merchant, was losing and was going to be in trouble with his wife. Ruddy Tyer, a long, skinny kid from Gryphon’s Nest, was still reasonably sober but he would lose his Jamboree bonus before the end of the night. Charger French, a squatty rider from back in the badlands with, it was said—but not where he could hear it—a reputation for shady deals. The fourth player was Jajson Buttersnake the son of old ‘Rock’ Buttersnake, the biggest cattle breeder around. Jajson figured he was top dog in the town of Drycreek because no one dared challenge the son of old Rock. Rock ran a tough, salty crew of drovers. They didn’t much like the boss’s son, but they would take his side in a fight.

It was the fifth dice thrower who worried Harry. Harry had seen him ride into town earlier that day on the highbred, dapple war unicorn presently taking up space at Harry’s hitching rail. The stranger wasn’t a big man; he stood around five-eight with a short, neatly trimmed black beard and cold green eyes. To Harry, who as a young man had seen quite of few of his kind, the stranger had ‘Merc’ written all over him. His clothes were of too good quality and too clean, his thigh-high boots too new and shiny, and the saddle on that fancy unicorn stud was too pricey for a coin-a-day drover. His needle-gun was tied low on his leg in a well-worn holster, and unless Harry was mistaken, in addition to the knife on his belt, he had a blade down his back, one in his boot, and a second gun hidden in his other boot.

Absently, Harry polished a glass while he tried to place the man. He didn’t look that familiar, but the blood feud over to the south between the RedBird and Smoker clans had just finished. Before he died, the Smoker Chief Hutchins had claimed Rupert RedBird was hiring paid Mercs, and the stranger had ridden in from the south.

The practice of hiring fighters from the Merc Guild in disputes wasn’t against the law, but it was disapproved of by Shahen Tarragon. Since the Merc Guild was very powerful and used by many to settle disputes, his disapproval didn’t mean much. The Guild was composed of hundreds of small and large bands of independent fighters and reputed to have ties with the Wild Magi. The Mercs were completely independent of any government, and the Guild’s influence stretched through all seven of the human kingdoms. Since siding with the Shahen against the Guild might mean you couldn’t hire their fighters in your next dispute, few landholders wanted to chance angering the Guild. Rumor had it the Shahen was also trying to consolidate more power to the crown by discouraging the larger holders from keeping their own private armies. The Shahen wasn’t having much luck with that either.

Because of his father’s mental illness, the Shahen had been named Regent and virtually ruled Askela in his father’s stead. Attempting to force the nobles to disband their large standing armies using his Magi Proctors might cause a rebellion against his already uneasy reign. It was common knowledge the neighboring Kingdom of Jacite would attack immediately if a war broke out between the Shahen and his nobles. Despite the Proctors’ Magi talents, they were outnumbered by the Mercs whom the landowners would doubtless call upon for help if he tried to force their compliance.

Harry swore softly to himself. If he was correct about the identity of the fifth dice player, it might mean he  belonged to a troop he could call on if there was trouble. He was alone right now, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have allies nearby. Harry was sure trouble was brewing because Jajson Buttersnake was drunk. When he was sober, he was a poor player and an even worse loser. Because he ran with the Buttersnake mob, he was usually safe when he had a tantrum; no one in his right mind wanted to start a fighting ruckus with Old Rock’s crew.

Harry had a bad feeling the fifth dice player wouldn’t give a damn how tough Old Rock Buttersnake’s crew was. There was just something in that dark face that said, ‘I don’t care’. The fight would probably cause a lot of damage before things got settled. And it was going to happen in his place too, he thought bitterly.

Suddenly Buttersnake stood up, scattering dice and coins. “I want a new set of dice!” he cried. “You shouldn’t have won that throw!”

The stranger came up out of his chair in one swift, clean movement. He slapped Jajson across the mouth, knocking him into the crowded bar.

The room exploded away from young Buttersnake. Leej Jonsyn, the rug merchant, dived away from the table so fast he knocked over his chair.

Jajson Buttersnake staggered to his feet, a trickle of blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth. He was white with fury. “You cheated!” he shrieked, pawing for his gun. He fumbled and almost dropped it in his rage.

The stranger waited until Buttersnake had his needlegun coming level before he drew and fired. His gun made a loud snapping noise as the puff of compressed air sent a fatal needle right down Buttersnake’s throat.

In that instant, Harry recognized the fighter. Hammer Smith was the handle he went by, but Harry had come from the coast, and he knew Hammer Smith’s real name was Andre Benoit. Benoit was a free-lance Merc who joined the Mercs at the tender age of sixteen, in the coastal area at the south end of the kingdom. He typically took on jobs that didn’t require the services of an entire troop, but he had allies among the Merc Community. Hammer Smith was reputed to be in his twenties, but he was already known as a dangerous man. It was said that he never drew a weapon unless the man was armed and facing him but if you pushed him, you died. Jajson Buttersnake died.

In the stillness after the weapon fire, Hammer Smith calmly reloaded his weapon, scooped up his coins from the table and quietly walked through the swinging doors. Whispers started in his wake.

“Shot him in the mouth,” someone said.

“Old Rock isn’t going to like this,” said another man.

“He won’t care. That’s a hard man,” a voice said.

Hammer Smith mounted the dapple unicorn and set off at a brisk trot.

“So much for a warm bed for me and a soft stall for you, Blackfeather,” he said. “Unless, I’m mistaken we’re going to have a bunch of irate drovers on our tail soon. Why did I sit down at that game, anyway?”

Blackfeather’s stride increased to a smooth, ground-eating lope. The double moons were full, making the road as clear as day, but Hammer Smith knew he was going to have to leave it soon. He started looking for a good place to leave the trail. Behind him, he could hear angry shouts and then the snap of needle gunfire.

“Okay, boy,” he spoke softly to the unicorn, who cocked an attentive black ear, “let’s ride some lightning.”

Blackfeather was fast. Hammer Smith had traded him off a Cat Man who had used him for racing. The trouble was he had beaten every unicorn in the area so often that no one would race against him anymore, and the Cat Man was broke. Hammer Smith had traded him a half-broke unicorn with the disposition of a poison beetle crossed with a snapdragon, an extra needle rifle and twenty coins in eating money.

He knew if he could get a start on the impromptu mob forming behind him, he could make it across the line into Cat Man Territory. Not the safest place in the world to be, but safer than here, as it was unlikely any posse would follow him there. The Shahen had given orders that entering Cat Man territory was forbidden. No one wanted to re-start the raiding again, and the Cats would undoubtedly see any group of armed men as breaking the treaty. Single riders entered at their own risk, and might be ignored, if he was lucky.

Suddenly ahead of him came the pound of running hooves and a wild screeching yell. Perhaps a mob coming in late off a Jamboree? If so, it suited Hammer Smith’s needs just fine.

He checked the unicorn and faded off to the side, stopping under a kaleidoscope tree about twenty feet away from the road. The moon flecked through the shinny, semi-transparent leaves, causing light and dark shadows that blended with Blackfeather’s coat, making the unicorn practically invisible.

A more cautious man would have taken the opportunity to scuttle out of there quick. But Hammer Smith was not a cautious man. Grinning, he watched as the mob from town ran full tilt into the celebrating drovers.

Chuckling, he started Blackfeather around the tree and to the north at an easy lope, heading into a forest of more kaleidoscope trees. In the melee behind him, he heard the snap of air guns as some fool started shooting; he knew everybody soon would be doing the same.

Karma has a way of catching up with a man. He paid a price for the inattention caused by his unholy amusement. In the darkness, he never saw the tree branch coming that dealt his head a smashing blow; stunned, he blacked out. Only his instinctive riding ability and Blackfeather’s superb gait kept him from falling off. Several times, Blackfeather shifted stride and course to ensure his rider stayed in the saddle. Puzzled at being given no other signals, Blackfeather continued to travel west, taking the easiest route.

The sun was just coming up when Hammer Smith awoke. Blackfeather had slowed to a walk. Muzzily, Hammer Smith peered around. His head hurt and he was having trouble focusing his eyes. Blackfeather mounted the top of a small rise and started down toward a creek gurgling below.

Hammer Smith blinked harder to focus his eyes because he was sure he was seeing things. The loveliest girl he had ever seen knelt by the water washing her face. Straight black hair fell in a curtain to the ground around her, some of the strands floating in the water.

Blackfeather stopped at the edge of the creek and lowered his head to drink. The girl lifted her head to stare back at Hammer Smith out of the clearest gray eyes he’d ever seen. She stood, pulling her hair back over her shoulders. Her crimson night robe clung to the swell of her breasts and hips, making a bright splash of red against the green plants growing on the bank of the stream.

At that moment, Hammer Smith was beyond appreciating nature’s decorating schemes. The whole world felt unreal. There was no one in it but him and the girl, and never would be. He nudged Blackfeather across the stream and stopped beside her.

She looked up at him with no sign of fear. He stared down at her. It seemed as if her eyes grew enormous and he was diving into a huge pool of gray water. This time, he did fall off his unicorn.

Rebecca tried to break his fall, but since he outweighed her, she ended up on the ground with him on top. Awkwardly, she sat up, wriggling out from under his weight. His head lolled back against her breast.

“Gosh!” exclaimed her sixteen-year-old brother Owen, “where did he come from?”

“Over the hill,” Rebecca said absently, looking at the dark face. He wasn’t bad looking; of course, you couldn’t tell much with that beard…

“What’s the matter with him?” demanded Owen’s twin, Catrin. Like Rebecca, she was still in her nightclothes.

Rebecca had found the caked blood matted in his hair.

“He’s been hurt,” she said. “One of you go and get Grandpa.”

“Gosh!” said Owen again. “That’s a funny place to get hurt. Do you suppose somebody whacked him?”


Blackfeather nudged Hammer Smith curiously with his soft grey nose. Why was he so still? Absently, Rebecca patted him.

“He’ll be fine,” she said to the unicorn. Blackfeather snorted gently and wandered off to crop some grass growing by the bank.

Pulling up the straps of his suspenders, Lewys Maginogion, awakened out of a sound sleep by Catrin, hurried up to them. His sharp old eyes took in the situation at a glance.

“Owen, unsaddle that unicorn and take care of it. Catrin, go fix up a bed in my wagon.”

As the two hurried to obey, he knelt beside Rebecca.

“He’s got blood on his head. Owen thought maybe he’d been whacked in a fight,” she said.

Gingerly Maginogion turned Hammer Smith’s head, running a finger in the gash on the top of his head and forehead.

“You’ll make it bleed again,” protested Rebecca.

“He’s out like a candle. Doesn’t feel a thing. We’d best get him in the wagon and that wound dressed before he wakes up.”

Unobserved by Rebecca, Lewys Maginogion looked pensively down at the lovely visage of his eldest granddaughter, who was looking down at the face of the young man resting in her arms. It had been months since the incident at Joppa, and in all that time his beautiful Rebecca had not voluntarily let any man touch her, flinching even whenever Owen or her Grandfather touched her accidentally. Yet she held this stranger against her with no sign of shrinking.

They put the unconscious man to bed in the wagon Owen shared with Lewys. As Lewys cleaned and dressed the wound, he thought about what he had learned in the village yesterday, and a plan began to form in his mind. Only if the young man proved worthy of course…

Twenty minutes later, dressed in a grey cotton shirt and trousers, Rebecca was sitting on a folding campstool, brushing her hair with the aid of a hand mirror.

A pan of sliced meat was sizzling on the fire, and Catrin, similarly dressed, with her long curly hair tied back was making sourdough wafers, her face flushed from the fire.

Owen was brushing the mud from the stranger’s unicorn. Blackfeather seemed to enjoy it, one hip cocked as he sleepily munched a bag of grain.

Lewys Maginogion surveyed his brood proudly. They were good kids all of them. Owen was growing tall and straight as a young fire tree. He was gangly still, but his green eyes met a man head on.

His twin, Catrin, took after Lewys’ mother, being tall and buxom with thick curly dark hair. For all she was starting to draw the men’s eyes like bees to nectar, she was still enough of a child not to notice their admiring stares.

His gaze dropped to his oldest granddaughter. With her hair drawn back, the resemblance to his dead wife was eerie. Rebecca wasn’t the looker Catrin was; her red-lipped mouth was too wide, and those gray eyes under her slanted brows gave her heart-shaped face an unearthly beauty, but he knew from his own experience many years ago just how potent a spell that exotic loveliness could cast. He had been caught in just such a web years ago when he first laid eyes on his dead wife, Anghard.

“All of you, come here,” he said. “I need to tell you what I learned in the village yesterday. Catrin, leave those biscuits alone. We won’t starve in the next ten minutes.

Obediently, Catrin and Owen seated themselves on a nearby log. Rebecca turned to face him on the folding campstool, a thick black braid lying over her shoulder.

“John Thomas Lazarus has put out a reward for our arrest for unauthorized magic. I saw it posted on the wall outside the sheriff’s office.”

“But we haven’t done anything!” Catrin cried, tears trembling on the ends of her lashes.

Rebecca said nothing, but she shut her eyes and clasped her hands in her lap. Magic users were regulated by the King. Powerful users were recruited to serve in the Kings Magi Proctors. Less powerful magic users were required to buy a license to use magic, or if proven to be of the right bloodlines, used as breeding stock. In either case, Magi were tested and licensed and paid a fee to the King to practice their arts. At least it worked so in theory. In practice, the rule of the Proctors over Askela’s Magi gifted was absolute. Almost no licenses to practice magic were ever issued. Unauthorized users could be hung without trial if they committed crimes using magic.

Owen started to curse, and was immediately called to order.

“Owen I’ll not have you using words like that in front of your sisters,” Lewys said sternly. “Besides, saying a thing like that about a man can get you killed in a challenge.”

“Even when he deserves it?” asked Catrin wryly.

“Yes,” her grandfather said flatly. “Especially if he deserves it. It’s about how powerful he is, not if he deserves the name.”

After a short struggle with himself, Owen said, “Yes sir. Sorry, girls.”

“Never mind that,” Catrin said. “What are we going to do?”

Her grandfather patted her hand. “I’ll think of something,” he said. In fact, he already had a plan in mind, but he wanted to talk to their guest before he came out with it.

“Now, how about breakfast? Am I to starve to death today?”

“Grandfather, what exactly does that notice say?” demanded Rebecca.

He took it out of his pocket and handed it to her. She frowned as she read it aloud. Travelers such as themselves always had a bad reputation in any new town, being automatically suspected of thievery and other less savory actions. Combined with hints of outlaw magic this spelled real trouble. Lewys and Owen were wanted for the assault and attempted murder of John Thomas Lazarus, Catrin and herself for a magical assault on Mrs. Charity Lazarus and for burning a wagon. All were hanging offenses, and the fact that most of it was a tapestry of lies wouldn’t matter. In fact, only Rebecca had used any magic; Catrin had used a shovel, and Owen and Lewys had both arrived after the incident was over. Although defending herself hadn’t been a crime, with the memory of the day the Proctor took her mother fresh in her mind, Rebecca didn’t think being turned over to the Proctors was a better fate.

They had left the village quickly after the incident hoping an old man traveling to his new hold with his grandchildren might escape notice. They never gave their real names when plying their trade as sellers of herbs and medicines in a village, but the descriptions of them on the flyer were very close. Upon fleeing Joppa, they had turned the gaudy signs on the wagon’s side inward and whitewashed the outside so the wagons looked more like ordinary travelling wagons. Unfortunately, Lewys’ treasured herd of beautiful golden draft unicorns were very noticeable, and they had been forced to stop several times and reapply the dye that turned their golden coats to a muddy brown.

“Sorcery my foot!” Owen exclaimed. “That old hag probably died of spleen when she found out what her supposedly God-fearing husband was up to!”

“Look for the mote in your own eye,” quoted Lewys, “before speaking of the one in your neighbors.”

Owen made an angry noise. “I don’t care! And don’t quote that stuff at me! I’m sick to death of—”

“Stop it! Please!” Rebecca cried.

Everyone looked at her in astonishment. She was weeping. Rebecca never cried.

“This is all my fault,” she sobbed. “I should have just done what he wanted—”

“Wash out your mouth of that filth girl!” Lewys roared. “No granddaughter of mine and Anghard’s would make a whore of herself for any reason! You did just as you should have,” he added more gently. “So did Catrin. What’s done is done, and we live now, not in the past.”

“Uh—breakfast is ready,” Catrin inserted. “That is if anyone is interested.”

They stayed another day by the creek tending to the wounded man and touching up the dye they applied to the unicorn herd. The man didn’t really wake up, but Lewys was able to get a couple of spoons of broth down him.

The first night after everyone had gone to bed, Lewys sat up late. Another man might have been ashamed of himself for what he intended to do. Lewys Maginogion was not. He had a plan to protect his family but he needed more information about his patient before he could decide how much of it was workable. He opened the saddlebags Owen had taken off the unicorn. There wasn’t much in them. One of the bags held a clean shirt, an extra needle gun, a small sleeve weapon, a package of kophie and a battered cup and pot. The other held tools for making needles and small containers of compressed air. The most interesting things he found were a gold pendant with a man and woman’s image inside and a small packet of letters.

Most of the letters were addressed to Andre Benoit. The oldest of these was dated almost ten years ago and had been written to a schoolboy.

My dear son, Lewys read, Mr. James, the head master from St. Anthony’s visited us today and I am afraid your father is very angry with you. Dearest, you must learn to control that dreadful temper of yours or one day I fear it will lead to serious trouble. I am very proud of you for standing up for that poor young man, but was it really necessary to half-drown his tormenter in the chamber pot? And did you really need to break a valuable urn over Jimmy Hendricks head? Not but what I do sympathize with your desire to hit him with something. A more horrid brat I’ve yet to meet, and his mother is just the same—but I hear your father coming. All my love dear and do try to stay out of trouble for a few days. Mama.

There were several others, all in the same vein. The last one was not written by his mother. Instead, it was written by the Cleric at a church.

My Dear boy, my heart goes out to you at this time. I wish I could be with you to comfort you, but as I cannot, I can only tell you to call upon He who is our greatest comfort in our grief as well as in joy. Your mother did not suffer at all. Dr. Thomas tells us the fall killed her instantly. Your poor father is sorely stricken. I hope this mutual sorrow will heal the gulf that has opened between you. Call upon me if you should feel the need for my services and I will come. God be with you, Respected Vincent McCauley

There were two other letters. One was from someone named Marie. It was just a note thanking him for the money to get back home to her family and telling him of her upcoming Handfasting.

The last one was addressed to someone named Hammer Smith, desiring him to come a village named Cutterston and quoting a price of seven thousand silver coins for unnamed services.

Thoughtfully Lewys re-folded the letters and replaced them. A handful of letters wasn’t much to base his plan on, but they were all he had. ‘The Divinity helps those who helps themselves’ he reminded himself. It had been one of Anghard’s favorite sayings. Just the thought of her somehow made her seem closer. Would she have approved of what he intended? He thought so. Comforted, he turned into his bedroll and went to sleep.

The next morning dawned bright and clear. Looking into the wagon Lewys found his patient awake.

“Well,” he said, “you scared us a mite son. How do you feel?”

Andre Benoit touched his head gingerly. “If I move will it fall off?”

“Headache? Well, I think that can be helped.” Lewys rummaged around in Anghard’s medicine box until he found a small leather packet filled with white powder. He poured a tiny amount of the powder into a tin cup, added water and swished it around.

“Here,” he said, “handing Andre the cup. “This should do the trick.”

Andre accepted the cup gingerly. “Who are you?” he asked.

Lewys looked at him in well-feigned surprise. “Why don’t you know?”

There was a small silence as Andre finished his medicine. “No,” he said at last, “I don’t guess I do.”

He paused, searching his memory and then he frowned. “As a matter of fact, I don’t think I know who I am.”

“Good Lord,” exclaimed Lewys. “I’ve heard of such a thing, but—”

Andre took him up sharply. “What do you mean?”

“Why, memory loss after a blow to the head. When I worked on cattle station one summer, a fella got knocked on the head like you. He claimed he didn’t know who he was either. Of course, we didn’t believe him at first, but we came down to it in the end.”

Lewys rubbed his chin. “As I recall, that fella never did get his right memory back.”

Andre carefully set his cup down on the wooden chest next to him. “Do you know who I am? How I got here? How did I get hurt?”

“Whoa son,” Lewys flung up a hand. “One thing at a time. First, your name is Andre Benoit and you’re engaged to marry my eldest granddaughter Rebecca.”

Lewys told that whopping lie without a blink. He rushed on before Andre could question him. “You’re in bed because it looks like someone took a whack at you. We’re not sure how it happened. You rode off hunting prong horn yesterday and your unicorn brought you back. I’m afraid there isn’t a lot more I can tell you about yourself before you joined us a couple of weeks back, because we only just met you.”

For once in his quick-tongued life, Andre was struck speechless. The story sounded fantastic and he wanted to hear more, but he was very tired and found himself drifting back to sleep. Lewys watched him for a minute more, then rose and left the wagon.

That had been relatively easy compared to what was next—explaining to Rebecca, Catrin and Owen what he had done and getting them to go along with it.

The girls were down by the creek, washing clothes. Owen was making a fresh pot of kophie. He had heard what had gone on between Lewys and Andre. He scowled at his grandfather and opened his mouth to speak. Lewys shook his head at him.

“Where are Rebecca and Catrin?”

“Down at the creek.”

“Good. Come with me; we’re going to have a family conference.”

“We just did that yesterday,” Owen grumbled under his breath as he followed Lewys. “Much good as it did us.”

Arriving at the creek, Lewys said jovially, “You two girls look as lovely as flowers in springtime this morning.”

Catrin and Rebecca exchanged glances over the bucket of dirty clothes. When their Grandfather started showering compliments, it generally meant he was up to something.

“Thank you,” Rebecca said politely.

Both girls waited.

Lewys cleared his throat. “All of you read that wanted notice I brought back from town, didn’t you?”

“We read it, Grandpa,” Catrin replied.

“Well, then you know there weren’t images of us, just a description of an old man, two girls and a younger man. It occurred to me that what we need here is a bit of misdirection. Now we can’t change our looks, but we can become a party of five instead of four. Ironlyn is still many weeks’ travel from here and there are several villages between it and us, including Buttersea. If we travel through those villages as a party of five, everyone who sees us will think of us a group of five people not four, even if the fifth member of the group doesn’t stay around long.”

Catrin was the first to speak. “You’re talking about the man on the war unicorn. Has he agreed to this?”

Owen made a rude noise. “He’ll probably stay. You should have heard that pack of lies Grandpa fed him!”

“What if he finds out about the wanted notice?” Rebecca asked. “He might decide to collect the two thousand coins by turning us in.”

“He might not turn us in but not want to stay either—”

“Quiet!” Lewys glared them individually into silence.

“Our young friend—his name is Andre Benoit incidentally, has lost his memory because of that clout on the noggin he took.”

“Permanently?” Owen asked. “What if he starts remembering?”

Lewys waved that aside. “Makes no difference. It’ll stay lost long enough to suit us. Now stop interrupting me! Where was I?”

“Memory loss,” Catrin supplied.

“Yes. Well I told him we met him a couple of weeks ago on the trail. He went hunting for meat and came back with a cut across his head. I also told him he was engaged to Rebecca so he’d have a reason to stay around.”

Benignly he smiled at his offspring who stared back at him with varying degrees of exasperation, horror or amusement.

“Why you old reprobate!” Catrin exclaimed.

“You,” said Owen forcefully, “are a sneaky, underhanded, unscrupulous old—I don’t know what.”

They both carefully did not look at Rebecca who had gone dead white. She raised stricken eyes to her grandfather.

“I’m sorry Grandpa, but I can’t,” she whispered. “He might want—I can’t do it.”

Lewys jerked his head at Owen and Catrin. “You two go back to camp. Rebecca and I need to talk. And mind, you remember what I told you if you talk to Andre.”

Obediently they started back to the fire. Lewys put an arm around Rebecca and felt her involuntary stiffening.

“Child, you’ve got to do it. Ironlyn is the last hope of the Magi. You know we need a safe place to go—it’s getting dangerous to keep up the traveling medicine wagon, we are beginning to be too recognizable. The Proctors were asking questions about us in the last town before Joppa. That flyer will give them the excuse to hunt us down. It takes one of the blood to hold Ironlyn and control the Gate. We can’t allow it to fall into the any hands but ours. Besides the Magi Cadre is counting on us to take over at Ironlyn. You know how important that is to what we do.”

She pulled away from him and covered her face with her hands.

“Don’t you see, he’s going to think its real! I dread having even you or Owen touch me and I know you aren’t going to—every time a man even touches my hand I remember—”

She broke into sobs.

Lewys’ heart ached in pity, but he steeled himself against her tears. If she didn’t overcome this fear, she would go maimed all her life.

“Rebecca, you know it isn’t natural to feel that way. You must face your fear and overcome it. What is between a man and a woman is good, not evil.”

“What happened to me was evil!” she flashed.

“The man is evil and what he did was bad,” Lewys agreed. “I’m sorry your first experience was so ugly, but you cannot allow it to rule your life child. Do you want to end your days a sour old maid with no children to light your days as you light mine?”

Her eyes closed. “Grandpa, please!”

Lewys sighed. “Well, child I won’t force you to do this for our benefit. The Magi Cadre will find someone else to handle Ironlyn. I can sell the unicorns—”

“Stop it!” she cried. She knew her grandfather loved his unicorn herd second only to his family. It would break his heart to let them go. Her refusal would bring hurt and destitution on everyone she loved and the innocents they were charged to protect. She lifted her chin and wiped her eyes.

“You’re right. There is no other way,” she took a deep breath and gave him a watery smile. “I’ll try the best I can.”

Lewys hugged her. “That’s my brave girl. I knew I could count on you.”

Rebecca deliberately forced her body to relax. Andre would be in bed for another day or so, she hoped. Perhaps by that time she could learn not to flinch.

Catrin and Owen both looked at her anxiously when she and Lewys returned to the fire.

“Are you alright, sis?” Owen asked, his eyes widening as he realize Lewys still had his arm around Rebecca’s shoulder and she had not only walked all the way back to camp that way, but didn’t move away.

“I’m fine Owen,” she smiled at him, a rather strained smile, but a real one nonetheless. “I have agreed to Grandpa’s plan.”

Owen opened his mouth, thought better of what he had been going to say, and shut it again.

Lewys gave his granddaughter a last hug and moved toward the fire. “Catrin are you burning the biscuits?”

“No, Owen is. It’s his turn to cook,” she replied.

Aggh!” Owen leaped toward the fire to rescue his mistreated breakfast.

Rebecca took a deep breath, poured a cup of kophie, and mounted the wagon steps. Andre was awake.

“I brought you a cup of kophie. Breakfast will be ready soon.”

“I hope you’re Rebecca, because if you aren’t, I’m engaged to the wrong girl.”

An involuntary laugh was surprised out of her. “What a thing to say! It would serve you right if I denied it!”

He smiled back at her, running his eyes over her possessively.

To cover her nervousness, she said hastily, “Here, let me help you sit up. You can’t drink kophie lying down.”

This was an error, she soon discovered. It brought her entirely too close to him, making her sharply aware of him as a man. He did nothing to ease her nervousness and when she attempted to help him sit up so she could place a pillow behind his back, he put both arms around her waist and leaned against her, inhaling her scent from her breast.

“Ummn—you smell good,” he said.

“Your kophie will get cold,” she said, pushing against him.

“Better cold kophie than a cold woman,” Andre retorted teasingly. But he allowed her to settle him back against the pillow and hand him his cup.

“Where’s yours?” he asked, lifting the cup to his mouth. Any doubts as to Lewys Maginogion’s veracity had vanished the instant he set eyes on his supposed fiancée. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to him that he should have wanted to marry Rebecca. She was everything he had ever dreamed of in a woman. He was a little puzzled and hurt at her reaction to his embrace though. His dream woman wouldn’t have pushed him back.

Rebecca retreated to perch on the foot of the blankets. “Grandpa says you don’t remember us.”

Andre almost laughed aloud at this simple explanation for her stiffness. She must feel extremely awkward to have him declare he was in love with her, ask her to marry him one day and then the next be told he didn’t remember her. No wonder she hadn’t responded.

He smiled warmly at her. “I plead guilty, but since I fell in love with you again on sight, I feel I deserve a suspended sentence, don’t you?”

Rebecca’s lips twitched. “Maybe I do and maybe I don’t. There’s your pack. Breakfast is in ten minutes.” Shaking her head, she left the wagon. A few minutes later, she heard Andre’s boots hit the floor.

A Tangled Web

Over the next week, the family worked out a rhythm of doing things. Sunrise and Blackfeather had shown an instant mutual dislike, so to keep the two studs away from each other while traveling, Lewys rode his golden stallion Sunrise and Andre rode Blackfeather. One or the other of the men helped Owen drive the unicorn herd of mares and their offspring. The two girls each drove a wagon with a white-maned kitten or two sitting on the seat beside them.

The kittens had doubled in size over the past weeks. When they reached their full maturity, they would weigh approximately thirty pounds and would have developed mottled grey/green coats and long silver manes. Their breed were superb hunters, in the wild they often hunted in a pride, however they easily adapted to domesticity.

Fortunately for the success of Lewys’ plan, Andre was still suffering from the effects of the blow to his head so he was too tired in the evenings to attempt to do more than steal a few kisses from Rebecca. To Rebecca’s surprise, she gradually became accustomed to Andre’s attentions, and even managed to occasionally return a kiss.

The morning before they entered Coverville, the next village with a Trade Station attached, Rebecca brought out one of her grandfather’s soft, homespun shirts, a green bandana and a large soft hat like the ones worn by herdsman and handed them to Andre.

“Your clothes make you look too much like a hired fighter,” she said. “These will help you blend in better on the way through town.”

He turned them over in his hands, looking at her thoughtfully. He noticed that both Rebecca and Catrin had changed their usual attire this morning. Instead of the better-quality blouses they usually wore, both girls had donned faded homespun shirts and large, soft hats. In addition, Rebecca had used something to darken her porcelain white skin to make it seem tanned.

“Who are we hiding from?” he asked as he began to unlace his shirt.

She hesitated, distracted by the muscled torso he displayed as he pulled the shirt over his head. When she didn’t answer, he met her eyes, enjoying it as she turned bright red at being caught staring.

“Like what you see?” he asked, smiling. Stepping in closer, he slid a hand around her neck to bring her mouth up for a kiss.

Up close, his body gave off a warm musky scent and she was surprised to find she wanted to touch those smooth muscles. When his mouth closed over hers, she brought up her hands to rest on his chest enjoying slightly prickly feel of his sparse chest hair under her palms. As he felt her response, his hand slid down her back pressing more of her body against his. Things might have progressed even further if there hadn’t been an interruption.

“Ouch!” yelled Owen, as he dropped the hot pan he was using to heat water for breakfast.

Rebecca gasped and stepped back from Andre, who let her go. Several encounters like this had convinced Andre that his girl wasn’t cold, she was just shy, so he was satisfied with the progress he was making.

“Rebecca,” he reminded when she started to back further away. “Who are we hiding from?”

She took a deep breath. “You might as well know there is a wanted flyer out on the four of us. Grandpa saw it in the last town we passed through.”

” You mean a wanted flyer On you?”

She nodded. “When you see it, you may not want to travel with us—”

Andre made a rude noise. “Do you have a copy?”

Rebecca climbed up inside the wagon, brought back the flyer and handed it to him.

Andre read it, a heavy frown gathering on his face. “None of you are violent. This guy Lazarus did something, what was it?”

Instead of answering, she bit her lip and turned her back, her hands covering her face.

Her reaction told him everything he wanted to know. Andre was silent while he mastered the black rage that had suddenly risen in him. He knew better than to let it out; giving in to anger had caused him plenty of trouble in the past. He looked at Rebecca’s shaking shoulders and closed his eyes.

“Rebecca,” he said, gently turning her to face him, “It’s alright. He won’t touch you again, I promise.”

To his dismay, she burst into tears, burying her face in his chest. Not knowing what else to do, he simply held her and rubbed her back until the storm of tears subsided.

“What’s the matter with Rebecca?” demanded Lewys, coming around the wagon.

Silently, Andre handed him the flyer.

“Oh, she told you, did she?” inquired Lewys. “Well, I suppose you had to know.”

“I asked her what we were running from,” Andre said.

Lewys sighed regretfully. “I should have made sure that animal was dead, but it would have been murder. I wanted to get my family away from there before they raised a lynch party.”

He handed Andre a handkerchief to give to Rebecca who had stopped weeping.

“Breakfast is almost ready,” he said, “Go and wash your face girl, so your brother and sister don’t see you’ve been crying.”

He motioned Andre to step out of hearing of the wagon. “I suppose you want to know what happened, don’t you?”

Andre shrugged. “I can guess. How bad was it?”

“Not quite as bad as it could have been. We were getting ready to leave that morning. Owen had gone to say goodbye to the Trade Stations daughter he was sweet on, and I’d gone into Joppa to pick up some stuff for the kid’s I’d already paid for. The girls were about to harness the unicorns, so we could leave when I got back. I guess you’re aware that some folk have peculiar ideas about Travelers. When Lazarus showed up, Rebecca told Catrin to get inside the wagon and stay there. He had Rebecca down on the ground when Catrin hit him with a shovel. Owen and I got there a few minutes later. I should have made sure he was dead, but I wanted to get my family out of there before we were arrested.”

Andre flicked the flyer scornfully. “So, this is because they blame you for defending yourselves?”

“Looks like it.” He shrugged. “The Trade Master warned me to leave as quickly as we could. Lazarus is a rich man who pulls a lot of weight around that area. Travelers are always easy marks though. Even before this happened we always made it a point to look as ordinary as we could when we pass through a strange village.”

He looked over at the younger man. “You’ve been good for Rebecca. It broke my heart to see her flinch whenever Owen or I accidentally bumped into her. She’s never done that with you and she’s easier with us too. I want to thank you for that if nothing else.”

They drove through Coverville and stopped a few miles outside of it at one of the Trade Stations the Shahen required be set aside for visiting trade caravans. The caravans were usually run by families or groups who made their living buying and selling goods as they traveled from village to village. Depending on their wares, most caravans had regular stops where they were expected at certain times of each year. A lone Traveler could sometimes pay a passage fee and journey along with them as a part of the group, which was safer than traveling alone.

The Trade Stations had been created to cut down on the friction between the visiting Travelers and town merchants. They were a kind of village in and of themselves; usually a Trade Station was run by a family who received a stipend from the Shahen to keep them in order. Station Masters were allowed to make what profits they could from fees for the goods sold in the Trade Store, using the bath and wash houses, or in some cases renting rooms. If a Traveler caravan came through they might stay for a week, selling things they brought, trading with the villagers, and sometimes putting on entertainment for the town. This Station had a store that sold a few staples such as canned goods, blankets, pots and pans and such.

When they arrived, Owen and Andre set up the temporary rope corral to contain unicorn herd. to keep them from attacking each other, the stallions were picketed separately, on either end of the two wagons.

When Rebecca went to the Trade station to pay the fee for access to the facilities, Andre went with her, casually catching her hand in his. This Trade Station was run by an older man and his wife called Tomilson. The wife, a plump, gray haired matron smiled knowingly at their clasped hands.

“Newlywed or courting?” she asked comfortably.

Rebecca blushed. “Uh—we’re not married.”

“Ah, courting then,” Sarsee Tomlinson said.

“Engaged,” Andre said firmly.

“Where are you folks traveling to?” her husband asked.

“Ironlyn,” Rebecca said.

“I see,” Tomilson said, withdrawing slightly. “That would make you the new Dracon then?” he asked Andre.

“That would be my grandfather,” Rebecca corrected, handing him the coins.

Several more families of Travelers arrived at the Station as the day wore on, parking their wagons or setting up tents along the circle designated for that purpose. Animals were expected to be kept outside the circle. Lewys made it a point to meet each of the new arrivals as they came in, taking either Owen or Andre with him as he encountered them. Most of the people they met were simply families or single men traveling on business, who were glad to get news from outside the area. In turn, Lewys asked them about the surrounding country and about Buttersea, the next village on the way to Ironlyn. When that village was mentioned, several of the men looked over their shoulders, and finally one of them, braver than the others, said, “I wouldn’t go there, if you can avoid it.”

“Why not?” asked Andre alertly. “What’s wrong there?”

Two of the men, brothers who were going to visit their relatives in Glassfall, exchanged glances. “We don’t know for sure,” one of them said. “But we hear rumors that some of the folk who go there don’t come back, or are robbed.”

“By the village?” asked Lewys.

Jorgon, the other brother, frowned. “I don’t think so. The story I got was it happens outside of town.”

“Yes, but I heard that some of the stolen goods ended up for sale in the shops,” one of the others chimed in.

Lewys nodded thoughtfully. “Thank you for the warning. We will be on our guard.”

After dinner, one of the men who had been a part of the discussion came over to their fire. Sorson Tobias was a tall, gangly man with an open face. “Dracon Maginogion, I have a favor to ask,” he said diffidently.

“What is it, Sorson Tobias?”

“First, may I ask if you still intend to go through Buttersea?”

Lewys nodded curtly. “We must. It’s on the road to Ironlyn.”

The man took a deep breath. “Well, you see, my family is traveling that way too, and I was hoping that we could travel together. I’ve heard that it’s safer to travel in a larger group. I have only the one wagon for myself, my wife and our young son.”

“How far are you going?” inquired Andre, watching him closely.

“Until I find work,” Sorson Tobias said. “I’m a bricklayer and I’m hoping there will be work in Snowdon, the next village beyond Buttersea.”

“We would love to meet your wife and child,” Rebecca said softly. “It must be very hard traveling this way with a young one.”

“Yes,” agreed Lewys. “Why don’t you bring her over now?”

The man nodded and left.

“Thank you, Rebecca,” her grandfather said. “That was well done. What do you think? Shall we let them travel with us?”

“Yes,” both girls said.

“I want to meet the wife. If everything is as he says, it would make it safer for us also,” said Andre.

“Owen?” his grandfather asked.

“I don’t feel anything harmful from him,” Owen replied.

Sarcee Anja Tobias turned out to be a pretty young woman who looked very tired. The little boy was a dark-haired moppet with curious blue eyes. His mother had wrapped a belt around the child and attached a short rope to it, one end of which she kept attached to her wrist. It was soon seen why this was necessary, as the child, Robern, immediately tried to escape his mother’s custody by darting away from her the moment his feet touched the ground.

It rained all the next day and the night before they were due to pass through Buttersea. There was no actual Trade Station around Buttersea, but an open ground under a grove of maconut trees just past the village was designated for Travelers. The trees provided some protection for the three wagons. The normally peacefully gurgling creek a little way inside the grove was threatening to overflow its banks. Lewys and Owen pulled out a large tarp, which they anchored overhead between two wagons to provide shelter from the rain and wind. The unicorns were bunched under the trees close to the wagons. The two stallions seemed to declare a truce during the storm, or at any rate, they refrained from attacking each other. The three kittens complained bitterly and stayed in the wagon used by the girls for sleeping.

A break easing the rain a trifle, allowed Andre and Rebecca to go down to the swiftly flowing creek for water to be heated for the dishes. Near the edge of the stream, Rebecca spotted the shivering girl at the foot of a tree. She now wore the pendant she had skryed with constantly, and it had retained a small glow. When she saw the girl, it suddenly heated up and glowed a bright blue through her shirt. Rebecca gasped and pulled it out, looking at the girl in shock.

“What’ is it?” Andre asked sharply.

“We’ve found her!” Rebecca exclaimed.

“Found who?” he demanded.

“Our sister. We were told she was born after our mother was taken by the Proctors and smuggled out of their compound. I’ll explain more after we get her back to camp.”

The girl was clad only in too-small shift and trousers, and she was barefoot. Her black hair clung wetly to her face.

“Oh, you poor thing!” Rebecca exclaimed going to kneel beside her. “Whatever are you doing out here by yourself?”

The girl raised drenched gray eyes to hers. “Don’t let them find me!” she begged.

When Rebecca touched her, the stone cooled, returning to its original bronze color. She tried to lift the child to her feet, but the girl fainted and would have fallen back down if Andre hadn’t caught her. He handed the still empty bucket to Rebecca and lifted the child in his arms.

“We need to get her back and dry her off,” he said practically.

“Put her in our wagon,” Catrin said when they arrived back at the camp. “I’ll bring some hot water. You get her out of those wet clothes.”

Rebecca hissed in anger when she stripped off the sopping clothes and found the child’s thin, pale-skinned body covered in welts and bruises from a recent whipping with a lash.

“Get some salve and bandages out of Grandmother’s medicine box,” she told Catrin. “This will sting when I clean these cuts. It’s a good thing she’s still out.”

Silently, Catrin handed her the things she’d asked for and opened their grandmother’s trunk. “What do you suppose happened to her? Where are her parents?” she asked, taking out a thick soft nightgown.

“Catrin, I think she might be our sister; Grandmother’s pendant identified her. Some animal has used a lash on her,” her sister said. “If her guardians allowed this—”

“You don’t know,” Catrin pointed out.” Maybe they did it.”

She handed the nightgown to Rebecca, helping her pull it over the child’s head just as she was regaining consciousness. While Rebecca helped the child into the bed and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders, Catrin leaned out of the wagon door and asked Owen to bring a bowl of the stew from dinner and some of the hot tea in the pot sitting on the fire. The kittens converged on the child; one of them lying across her feet, while the other two snuggled up against her legs.

Rebecca unfolded a lap tray and spread it across the girl’s knees, carefully setting the bowl and cup down on it. When she saw the bowl and cup, the child’s eyes grew round. Hesitantly she cupped the bowl between her cold hands.

“Can you feed yourself, or shall I help you?” Rebecca asked.

“Is—is this for me?” the girl asked, hardly daring to hope.

“Of course, it is,” Catrin said holding out the spoon.

“You need to eat and warm up the inside as well as the outside,” Rebecca said, lighting the burner on the small warming oven.

They waited patiently until the child had finished the stew.

“What is your name?” Rebecca asked.

The girl looked frightened. “Selene. Please don’t tell anyone you’ve seen me. He’ll be looking for me.”

“Who will be looking for you, Selene? The man who beat you?”

The girl nodded jerkily. One of the kittens, sensing distress, climbed into the child’s lap, purring loudly. The girl reached out a tentative hand to stroke his back.

“Is he your guardian?”

“No,” Selene whispered. “The Magi Proctor’s man, Leroys Torrigan.”

“I see,” Rebecca said grimly. She exchanged a glance with her sister.

“Are you going to send me back?” Selene asked fearfully.

“No, child, we are not,” Rebecca’s voice was calm. “But if we are to protect you, we need to know everything you can tell us. Why were you with him instead of being sent on to the Shahen’s school?”

Selene shuddered. “Torrigan almost never sends anyone there. He keeps the young magi for a while and then they are sold off to another place. At least that’s what the girl who was there before me said.”

“Is she still there?”

Selene shook her head. “No, they took her out a week ago. That’s when Torrigan started training me.”

“With a whip?” Catrin asked, incredously.

“No, that was because I wouldn’t do what he wanted.”

“What did he want you to do?”

Catrin gave her sister a sharp glance. From her tone, she knew Rebecca had a good idea what the child was about to tell them.

Selene swallowed. “He took off his clothes and he wanted me to—to—”

Rebecca stroked the child’s forehead. “It’s alright, darling. I know.” She smiled down at the girl. “You have family now, and we will protect you and teach you how to use your gifts to protect yourself.” She settled the girl back down on the bed and tucked her into the blankets. “Catrin will sit here with you, and the kittens will keep you company. I will be in soon to join you. I need to get the dishes cleaned up first. Sleep now.”

Going to the door, she slipped on her rain slicker and went outside. When she approached the fire, she found that the Tobias family had gone to bed in their wagon.

“When did they leave?” she asked.

“Just after you went for water,” Owen responded.

“Good,” she told the three men. “I don’t want them to hear this.”

“How is she?” asked Lewys.

Rebecca held out her hands to the dying fire. “She has been whipped and beaten, starved, and I think an attempt was made to rape her.”

Lewys gave a hiss of dismay.

“We heard something about the Magi Proctor,” interjected Andre. “Is she a Magi?”

“Yes,” Rebecca said.

“Then she landed with the right family,” Owen stated.

Andre’s eyebrows rose. “Really? And when were you going to tell me about this?”

Owen looked at him in surprise. “I thought you knew. Didn’t Rebecca show you the flyer?”

“That isn’t the same as saying the words,” Andre retorted.

Rebecca lifted a hand. “Gentlemen please! We need to get our stories straight. Now, Sorson and Sarsee Tobias only met us two days ago at the Trader Station, so I think we can simply tell them that our younger sister Selene has been ill—spotted fever, I think—and we kept her in the wagon so that’s why she wasn’t introduced to them.”

Lewys stroked his chin. “With the storm, I think that will work. We wouldn’t let a sick child out in the rain. Ah—how old is my granddaughter?”

He suddenly focused on the pendant lying outside Rebecca’s shirt. The stone resting on Rebecca’s breast was quiescent.

“It’s her?” he said, incredulously.

Rebecca nodded, smiling with tears in her eyes. “Yes, I think so. She is the right age, and—she looks like grandmother.”

“Is someone looking for her?” inquired Andre. “When we found her, she said something about ‘not letting him find her’.”

“It’s possible. She said she was being kept by the Proctor’s man before she escaped.”

The three men exchanged glances.

“Are you alright with this?” Lewys asked Andre.

“At least the ground is going to be soft enough to bury a body,” he answered, and Lewys laughed, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Go to bed Rebecca,” her grandfather told her. “We’ll keep—?”

“Selene, is her name.”

“We’ll keep Selene safe.”

Andre walked her back to the wagon. “Don’t worry about anything. One of us will stay on watch tonight.”

She laid her hand against his face, giving him a tremulous smile. “Thank You,” she said softly. “You always make me feel safe.”

It hadn’t exactly been declaration of love, he reflected, but it gave him a warm feeling all the same. A man’s presence should make his woman feel safe. He turned his head and pressed a kiss into her palm.

Strangely enough, what she said was true. He had been with them for several weeks before Rebecca realized the hovering fear that had afflicted her since the attack had disappeared. It took a little longer for her to associate its disappearance with Andre.

They left the next day with the rain still pouring down. Catrin mentioned casually at breakfast that morning that they had better continue to keep Selene in bed and Rebecca agreed. Andre and Lewys both asked how she was doing, and Owen prepared a plate for her. Anja and Jerlyn Tobias accepted their story of a sick child without question.

Selene was a little harder to convince. When Rebecca took her breakfast in to her, she looked up warily.

“Who are you?” the child asked.

“I am Draconi Rebecca Mabinogion, and I believe you are the child we have been looking for. You see, our mother was with child when the Proctor’s took her. We were told she had smuggled the newborn baby out of the Proctor headquarters. We have been searching for that child for many years. She would be about your age.”

“Why do you think I’m that child?”

Rebecca took out a hand mirror from the drawer where she and Catrin kept their toiletries. She handed it to Selene, who looked at it in wonder.

“Look at your face in the mirror and then look at mine,” Rebecca instructed.

The child had the same pale skin, grey eyes with up tilted brows and black hair. Recent privations had thinned her face of any remaining childhood plumpness, so that the resemblance to Rebecca was very marked.

“What do you remember about your life before the Proctors found you?” Rebecca asked her. “Do you remember your parents?”

“I never knew anything about my father. The woman who raised me wasn’t my mother, and she didn’t tell me much. We moved around a lot. She told me if we got separated, I was supposed to go to a place called Ironlyn and they would help me,” Selene said slowly, “when I was older, Sara told me my mother was a great lady, but I wasn’t to talk about it. She caught the wasting fever in Wintermere. She had taken a job in a nursing home there. The family we were boarding with discovered I was Magi and reported me to the Proctor.”

Rebecca smiled at her. “We are on our way to Ironlyn, and I believe we are who this Sara was trying to reach. You are safe now. The family traveling with us have just come into our service, and won’t think it strange they haven’t met you yet, because we said you have been ill. You are staying inside the wagon until the weather clears so you don’t get sick again. As far as they are concerned, you have always been our little sister.”

“Why would anyone believe I’m your sister?”

“They will believe because they will be able to see how much you look like me and our Grandmother. Now, eat your breakfast, and don’t let the cats trick you—they’ve been fed.”

“What about someone who knows you?” the girl asked sensibly.

“For them, it is the same story; most of them know we have been looking for our parents fourth child. We simply say we have found you at last. Because of them taking our mother and other things, our family is bitterly opposed to the Magi system. All of us are unregistered Magi, and we belong to a group that helps Magi escape the Proctors. Now, after breakfast Catrin will bring you some warm water for washing and take you out to relieve yourself. For today, just rest and enjoy your breakfast. There are books over there in the chest if you would like to read.”


Rebecca smiled. “Yes, there are some there. Please help yourself to them.”

Since there had been no work for Jerlyn in the last two villages, the Tobias family was still with them when they arrived at the Linhaven Trade Station. The journey from Buttersea had been wet and miserable for everyone as the storm continued to pound the Travelers. They hadn’t been attacked outside the village; probably, Lewys had speculated aloud because not even outlaws wanted to go out in the rain.

It was late afternoon when they made camp at Linhaven Trade Station. The sun had finally broken out of the clouds that morning, and the air was beginning to warm up.

The journey had given Lewys time to evaluate Tobias. “Is bricklaying your only trade?” he asked him.

“Oh, my Jerlyn can do a lot of things,” his wife said proudly. “He made all our furniture and fixed our neighbor’s well when it got fouled.”

“Anja!” her husband protested. “They don’t want to hear all that.”

“I do,” Lewys said. “As I understand it, Ironlyn has been neglected over the past few years, and most of the staff are gone. I’m going to need a man who is handy with tools. Would you consider working for us?”

“I would be honored, Dracon,” Tobias said, bowing.

“Then let’s talk wages,” Lewys suggested. “Step into my office.” He indicated the spot by the fire next to himself.

“Is your sister Selene feeling well enough to join us for dinner?” Anja asked.

“That is a good idea,” Catrin said. “I’ll go and help her dress.”

I hope she will manage to find the girl something to wear that fits her, Rebecca thought ruefully. Clothing was something she hadn’t taken into consideration when deciding to introduce the girl as family. When they appeared, Rebecca was pleased to see that Catrin had obviously raided their Grandmother’s trunk for suitable clothes. Unlike her daughter, Angard had been a small woman, and the pink shirt and whipcord trousers fit Selene well enough. Catrin had even managed to dig out a pair of Gran’s old boots for the child.

Andre brought over folding stool for her to sit on, which she accepted with a shy smile.

“Yes,” Anja agreed, “That’s right dear. Spotted fever is nothing to fool around with. For tonight, you just sit and watch the rest of us work.”

The Mercs

Travelling with three wagons and a herd of unicorns slowed the journey even more. Andre and Owen took turns handling the Unicorn herd, but villages close to Trade Stations were getting further and further apart, and the animals were beginning to show the effects of the long journey.

“I think we need to stop and rest the unicorns for a couple of days,” Lewys announced after inspecting the herd. “The map shows Sandcrake, the next Trade Station, has a good pasture for herds because it’s a waystation on the Drover’s Trail. We can stay there for several days. The closest village is Wintermere and it is at least half a day’s ride, but that will mean we won’t have to worry so much about someone stealing our animals.”

“We’re low on meat too,” Andre remarked. “I saw pronghorn sign yesterday. If we stay long enough we can smoke the meat.”

“You’re very sure of getting a shot at one,” Jerlyn remarked.

Andre shrugged. “Some of the work I did wasn’t in towns. When you don’t have a steady supply of food, you learn to hunt.”

“We need to do some washing also,” Catrin put in.

Lewys was frowning when he returned from meeting the Trade Master.

“What is wrong?” Rebecca asked.

“I’m not sure,” her grandfather replied. “There is a copy of that wanted flyer Lazarus put out, along with others posted inside the store. It was being tacked up by a self-important little man when I came in. The Trade Master looked unhappy about it. He warned me the man who brought in the wanted flyers came from Wintermere. Said he was always checking on who was using the Station in the hopes of collecting a reward for reporting them.”

Andre rousted Owen out of bed before daylight to hunt the pronghorns he had seen. Rebecca and Catrin cooked a breakfast of biscuits and gravy in the dark for the hunters.

“They come out to feed at dawn and dusk,” Andre told Rebecca as he kissed her goodbye. “We want to be in place before that.”

Dawn was just breaking over the horizon when Rebecca and Selene brought the baskets of dirty clothes over to the Trade Stations Communal washroom. Rebecca worked the handle over a large tub to see if the water was hot, nodding approvingly when it came out warm.

“Good,” she told Selene, “we are the first one’s here. We won’t have to pay extra for clean water for our clothes.”

The younger girl looked at her curiously. “I’ve never used one of these places. How does this work?”

“Time you learned then,” Rebecca said cheerfully. “Start putting the clothes into the tub while I shave some soap into the water. We’ll take turns pumping the handle until the tub is full.”

Once they had the clothes in the tub of water, Rebecca sealed the lid, and showed Selene how to use the foot pedals to make the tub rock back and forth to wash the clothes.

Anja joined them, Robern again attached to her with a lead.

“You beat me here,” she said. “I thought I would be first.”

“They have several tubs,” Rebecca said. “This must be a busy station.”

The other woman nodded, dumping her basket into an empty tub. Rebecca noticed she had only a small sliver of soap to wash with and offered, “Here, we have extra soap. I know how hard it is to make it when you are traveling.”

Anja hesitated, and then took the bar and the shaving knife, smiling her thanks.

The women ran the clothes through a rinse tub and then through the Stations hand-cranked wringer to get rid of the excess water before taking them out to the communal drying lines.

Selene had volunteered to keep Robern occupied, and at Rebecca’s smiling nod, Anja had agreed. Because they were enjoying their talk, Rebecca and Anja were facing each other across the lines of wet clothes. They had almost finished the chore when Rebecca noticed the alarmed look on Anja’s face as she looked into the Station center circle. Hastily, Anja finished hanging up her load to dry and grabbed her basket.

“We should to go back to the wagons,” she said urgently.

Frowning, Rebecca turned to look behind her. A small troop of Mercs had ridden in. They stopped at the Station House, and one of them dismounted and went inside.

“Do you know them?” she asked.

Anja shook her head. “Not them specifically, but I know what they are. We had Merc troops stationed in our village several times before our home was burned in the fighting. The ones associated with the keep weren’t too bad—they lived in the village too and they had an interest in keeping the peace so they mostly behaved properly. The free Mercs—well let’s just say a woman didn’t want to be caught out alone with them around.”

Rebecca nodded. “Selene!” she called the girl who was entertaining Robern with a game of small sticks and pebbles, “We should return to the wagons.”

She picked up her empty baskets and started back through the washhouse to gather up her supplies. She still had more than two thirds of a bar of soap she had left to dry on the sink, and soap was, as she had told Anja earlier, hard to come by on the road. Anja didn’t bother, but hurried back toward the wagons, dragging a reluctant Robern.

Rebecca had just dropped the used soap bar into the empty baskets when a man entered the washroom. He was tall and wide, with sandy hair and a scruffy beard that needed the attention of a razor. He smiled when he spotted the two girls.

“Well, what have we here?” he asked.

Rebecca put an arm around Selene and moved toward the door. He moved to block their exit.

“Don’t run away pretty girl,” he said. “My name’s Jokan, what’s yours?”

Rebecca looked him up and down with no expression on her face. “I am Draconi Rebecca Sancha il’Maginogion, and this is my sister Draya Selene,” she told him haughtily. She didn’t often use her title, but she felt it might make him wary of offending her.

Instead he laughed. “My, aren’t you the high and mighty one. I’m going to enjoy getting acquainted with you.”

“We have not been introduced, Sorson,” she said coldly. “Kindly move out of our way.”

When he didn’t move and Selene gave a frightened whimper, Rebecca readied herself to use her Magi abilities. If she pushed past him and encouraged her shove with a telekinetic shove, it would make him step out of the way and they could get out the door. Just as she was about to make her move, Andre stepped into the room, and Rebecca felt a wave of relief. She relaxed, smiling reassuringly down at Selene. Taking in the situation at a glance, Andre shifted his body between the girls and the Merc.

“Is he bothering you, love?” he asked Rebecca, not taking his eyes off the other man, who was staring at him in astonishment.

“Hammer Smith?” he said incredously. “Where did you spring from?”

When Andre didn’t answer him, he apparently realized he had overstepped a line. “Is she with you? Sorry man, I didn’t know you were working for them.”

“I’m not,” Andre said. “Rebecca, take Selene and go to the wagons. Stay there, and keep Catrin there as well.”

He moved with them toward the door, and the Merc stepped aside so the girls could exit the building.

Once outside the door, Rebecca handed Selene the baskets. “Run to the wagons and tell Grandpa and Owen about this. Tell Catrin to stay with you at the wagons.”

“Andre told both of us to go,” Selene protested.

“I know, but that Merc isn’t alone. Andre may need help.”

Rebecca leaned back against the wall, listening to the men inside as she watched her sister run to their wagons. She looked around, checking for any of the other Merc’s headed toward the washhouse.

“If you’re not working for her family, how do you know her?” the Merc demanded.

“She belongs to me,” Andre told him. “Anyone who bothers her is going to answer to me, understand?”

“Sure,” Jokan agreed hastily. “No problem. I didn’t know she was taken. I saw a prettier girl over in the wagons anyway. One skirt’s as good as another.”

“Rebecca’s sisters, and the wives and daughters of any man who works for us are off limits, Jo. You be sure to tell the others. I’d hate to kill one of them over a misunderstanding.”

“Sure,” Jokan said. He went over to one of the full tubs and opened his war bag to dump in some clothes, whistling as he started his laundry.

Andre watched him for a few minutes, then turned and went out the door Rebecca had used. He stopped in his tracks when he saw her waiting for him, a small fireball rolling in her palm.

He caught her wrist, looking down at her hand. She closed her fist and the ball of flame disappeared. Curiously Andre rubbed a finger over her palm. It was cool to the touch.

“Didn’t I tell you to go back to the wagons?” he said.

“I know,” she replied, “but he isn’t here alone. I saw a whole troop ride in earlier.”

He looked at her, a small, delighted smile playing around his lips. “And you were going to use that to help me?”

She nodded, ducking her head and looking at him sideways, not sure how he would react to this display of Magi talent.

Andre brought her palm to his mouth and pressed a kiss into it. “I wasn’t in any danger, Darling.”

“Well, I realize that now,” she admitted. “I stayed because I knew he would have challenged Grandpa or Owen and I supposed it would be the same with you. Why didn’t he?”

“He knew better,” Andre told her dryly. “He and I worked together a couple of times. Jokan Locklear never saw the day he could beat me in a fight.”

He tucked her hand under his arm and started back toward the wagons.

“He called you by another name,” Rebecca said. “Hammer something.”

“I used the name Hammer Smith when I fought as a Merc,” Andre said, watching her expression to see if his past occupation offended her.

Rebecca nodded. If he was remembering, he might decide he wasn’t engaged after all. Tentatively, she asked, “Is your memory coming back?”

Andre hesitated. “Some of it. I remember being in the Mercs, and I remember a fight in a town, but anything after that is only bits and pieces.”

“I see. Is that man a friend?” she asked.

“Not really, we just worked together, that’s all.”

“I’m glad. I didn’t like him,” she admitted. “A friend of yours is always going to be welcome to me, but I’m glad that man isn’t a friend. He frightened Selene.”

He nodded soberly. “I saw that. I passed the word to leave you girls alone, but it will be better if you stick close to our wagons until they leave.”

“Anja and I both left clothes there on the drying lines,” she told him. “We will need to go back and get them this afternoon when they are dry.”

“I’ll go with you,” he promised.

“Was your hunt successful?” she asked.

He grinned. “Got two buck pronghorns. Owen did okay with his crossbow. We can spend a couple of days curing the hides and smoking the meat. I had to hang them pretty high; your cats kept trying to drag the meat down.”

They had parked their wagons far enough from the station house and any other Travelers to give them some privacy. Trade Stations were neutral territory, but they were hotbeds of gossip as well. Lewys never wanted to camp close enough to other Travelers that a casual observer could listen in on their conversations. Anyone could stop at the Stations and be sure to be let alone if they behaved properly. The Station Master had the right to summon the Sheriff of nearby towns if trouble occurred, but it was a rare occasion when it was necessary anymore. When the Stations had first been established, the Shahen had also stationed soldiers at them to enforce order.

The women spent the afternoon cutting the meat into strips. When Rebecca gave Anja a quarter of the meat, the woman teared up. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Andre showed Owen how to build a smoking rack while Rebecca and Catrin cut the meat into thin strips for smoking. Although it would take several days to finish curing, by evening the smoked meat was beginning to give off an appetizing odor. Selene had been given the task of keeping the kittens from burning their paws when they tried to get close enough to steal a strip of the meat.

The women were starting to prepare dinner when a man on an old zebra unicorn rode up to their wagons, stopping a little way from entering the camp. “May I come to the fire?” he called.

“Come in,” Lewys said easily. Tobias noted that Andre and Owen both moved into the shadows to cover the camp and he did the same, approving of the precautions.

The man was young, but he showed signs of hardship. His clothes were worn and the unicorn looked gaunt.      “Dracon Maginogion?” he asked hesitantly.

When Lewys nodded, he said, “I am Sorson Lorkeet. I was told that you might be wanting some goats to restore the herds at Ironlyn?”

“Perhaps. Do you have goats?”

Lorkeet took a deep breath. “Yes. My family has been goatherds for many generations, but we recently lost our holding and are looking for a new patron.”

Andre and Owen came back to the fire. “He’s alone,” Andre said.

Lorkeet looked a little startled and then he smiled. “You are a careful man, Dracon.”

“Yes, I am,” Lewys agreed. “I’d like to see the goats before I talk any deals.”

Lorkeet nodded. “We are camped just over the hill there. We can go now if you want.”

“He’s alone, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t a trap,” Andre said. “He could have a crew waiting over there.”

Lewys looked at his grandson.

“Owen?” he asked.

Owen shook his head. “I don’t feel anything like that from him.”

Lewys stroked his chin. “I see. Well, I think that you and Andre will stay here just in case. Tobias and I will go and look at goats.”

While they were saddling the unicorns, Owen saw Andre go to the wagon and retrieve his needle gun and a sword which he belted on in addition to the long knife he always wore. Owen decided to imitate the example and went to the wagon shared by the men for his own crossbow and needle gun. Seeing the weapons, Andre nodded approvingly.

He signaled Owen and the pair of them slipped out of the firelight to make a round of the camp as Lewys and Tobias rode out. “Do you think someone is out here?” Owen asked.

Andre held up a hand and pointed at Blackfeather and the unicorn mares who were stamping nervously. “You see that? The unicorns think so and I don’t think its Lorkeet or his people. See how they keep looking back toward the road from the village? It might be an animal, but it could be human too. Let’s make a circle around the camp.”

What the unicorns heard was human. As they finished their circle, a small group of riders trotted right up to their wagons and stopped. Behind her, Rebecca heard Selene gasp in fear. She moved so her body partially shielded the girl, reaching back to grasp her hand.

“Who are you, and what are you doing here?” Rebecca demanded. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Owen moving into position behind the riders with the bolt drawn on his crossbow. When Andre came up to stand between them and the men, she felt a surge of confidence.

“It’s going to be fine, you’ll see,” she whispered to the girl. “Andre will take care of it.”

“I’m Korman, the Sheriff of Wintermere, and I’m looking for a fugitive,” the short, round man in the front announced.

“You didn’t stop at the Station to check yourselves in. That is a violation of Station Protocol. Approaching a camp at night without warning is a good way to get dead, Sheriff,” Andre drawled. “We don’t have any fugitives here. Just our family, our workers and their families.”

“So you say. I’m going to search the camp anyway,” the Sheriff said. “She could be hiding in one of the wagons.”

She? It takes five men to hunt a woman?” Andre asked disdainfully. “Sheriffs are a lot tougher where I come from.”

“She’s not a woman, she’s a kid and she’s Magi,” the Sheriff said. He and the others dismounted.

“About the age of that one there,” a townsman in rich clothes said, indicating Selene, who shivered.

“That’s my little sister,” Rebecca snapped, putting a protective arm around her.

When one of the men started to approach the nearest wagon, Owen shot a crossbow bolt into the ground narrowly missing the man’s foot. “There’s more where that came from,” he called cheerfully from the shadows. The man backed up nervously, looking to the Sheriff for guidance.

“If you’re looking for a Magi,” Andre said, “Where is the Magi Proctor? You have no jurisdiction without one. I would advise you to mount back up and leave.”

The tone of his voice made Sheriff Korman take another, more careful look at Andre. When he did, he took a mental step back. Despite the soft clothes and herdsman’s hat, it was obvious this man hadn’t always been a Traveler. He was too sure of himself when confronting armed men. Andre’s hand rested lightly on his hip, within easy reach of the needle pistol, and his sword and knife in their well-worn sheaths had seen plenty of service. Everything about Andre shouted ‘Merc’ to the Sheriff, and he wavered. He had no lust to take on a trained Merc; he knew he would be the trained fighter’s first target in a fight. Damn that Sorris for a meddling Busybody. He hadn’t wanted to come all this way out here anyhow, he thought bitterly.

The decision was abruptly taken out of his hands. There came the thunder of heavy unicorn hooves, and Lewys rode smack into the middle of the dismounted riders, who scrambled to get out of the way. He wheeled the massive golden stud around to face them, not caring if the posse was trampled in the process.

“What the devil is going on here?” he roared, in his best Lord of the Manor voice.

Behind Andre, Rebecca put an arm around the shaking Selene’s shoulders.

Being dismounted was distinct disadvantage. The Sheriff was forced to look up into Lewys’ face. “I am Sheriff Korman of Wintermere. We are here in search of a wanted Magi.”

“A girl about that age,” the overdressed townsman pushed his way forward and started toward Selene. He stopped, backing off hastily when he suddenly found ten inches of fighting blade in his face. Andre held the knife in the easy grip of men who know steel.

“You’ve been told who she is,” Andre said softly. He stared directly into the townsman’s eyes, his own gone flat and hard.

“Sorris! Stand down!” the Sheriff shouted, correctly interpreting how close to death the townsman was.

Sorris backed away from Andre before turning on the Sheriff, blustering to hide his embarrassed fear. “See here, Korman, if you won’t do anything to find the girl, I will. I think these people are hiding her. I bet I have a flyer on them too. Look at this!” he thrust a sheet of paper under Korman’s nose.

Korman sighed. “Sorris, this plainly describes a party of four people. I count at least twice that number here. Get back on your unicorn before I decide to let this young man split you like a roasting bird. The rest you mount up also,” he added, going to his own mount.

“Sorry for the intrusion—” he waited for Lewys to supply the name.

“Dracon Lewys il’Maginogion of Ironlyn,” he was informed.

“Dracon Maginogion, my apologies to you and your family,” Korman said, reflecting sourly as he left that, he had probably just offended the Dracon of one of the strongest keeps in the area. Ironlyn was a long way from Wintermere, but the nobility had lingering memories.

As soon as the posse disappeared into the darkness, Selene jumped off her stool and threw her arms around Andre, sobbing, “Thank you.”

Taken aback, he patted her shoulder. “It’s okay, they’ve gone. You are safe with us.” He looked helplessly at Rebecca, who came and kissed his cheek.

“You were wonderful,” she told him smiling. “I knew you would keep us safe.”

“Hey!” her grandfather protested. “What about me? Didn’t I help too?”

Catrin laughed. “Yes, Grandpa, you’re wonderful too, and so is Owen. Thank you.”






Welcome to the far future. Let me introduce you to the courageous women and dangerous men who carve a home on the alien world of Vensoog

A warrior/priestess teams up with a Bard from another world and genetic “designer” children to defeat a dangerous foe and keep their planet from an off planet takeover.

Lady Drusilla O’Teague, 3rd daughter of a powerful line of psychically gifted women, was trained from birth as warrior and Dragon Talker. She distrusts her own feelings because as child she was unable to shield herself from the seesaw emotions of others.

Lucas Lewellyn is an off-world survivor of the Karamine Wars. He is the hereditary Bard of his people with the ability to compel with his voice, but he is untrained in using his powers. He knows when he meets Drusilla that their destinies are linked, but will she admit it?

Their world of Vensoog is in danger. A prince of the Thieves Guild wants the deposits of Azorite—mighty crystals used to power spaceships and found in large quantities on Vensoog. To save their world, Drusilla and Lucas will need the help of “designer” children built by that same Thieves Guild.

Juliette Jones—created in the Guild’s Geno-Lab to be super smart, ruthless, wily and conniving: the perfect spy. But the Guild never realized they had also given her a loving heart.

Lucinda Karns—daughter of a Thieves Guild Lieutenant, she was given enhanced genes to make her the perfect icy thinker and planner, but those genes sparked a need for balance and gave her a moral compass at odds with her masters’ goals.

Violet Ishimara—constructed with a high degree of empathy to be a tool for the Guild, Her alliance with the Vensoog Sand Dragon Jelli gave her the courage to stand up to her masters.

Rupert, the intuitive chemist, and Roderick, the electronic genius—orphaned twins seen by the Guild as tools to turn into weapons, turned out to be a lot tougher than the Guild expected.

All Our Tomorrows

The Handfasting – Vol 3

Gail Daley

Opening Gambit


SOMETHING was wrong on Talkers Isle. Drusilla had known it almost as soon as she stepped off the shuttle yesterday. This Isle had always been one of her favorite places on Vensoog. It’s aura of peace and tranquility had provided solace to her angst-ridden spirit when she first set foot on it as a child. Now, someone or something, had poisoned that aura and Drusilla was going to make them pay for it.

The acute contrast between the atmosphere today and the feeling when she came here years ago as a traumatized child had been just nasty. When she had come as a child, it had been for further training in controlling the impact of the emotions she picked up from the people around her.

Today when Drusilla had come back to Talker’s Isle to bring some of the clan’s security forces here to take the Dragon Talker training, she had looked forward to immersing herself into the Isle’s peaceful aura for a few days. Apparently, that wasn’t going to happen.

“Alright,” Genevieve said, her voice jerking Drusilla out of her brown study. “Enough brooding. Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

“Can’t you feel it?” Drusilla questioned. “This whole place reeks of despair, dissatisfaction and anger.”

“I’m not a Dragon Talker,” her sister reminded her.

“Trust me, something is very wrong here.”

“Have you discussed this bad feeling with Mother Superior?” Genevieve asked.

Drusilla shook her head. “I don’t think she’s well, Genevieve. I don’t want to distress her. I know something is not right though. When I asked for a volunteer to go out to Veiled Isle, it was almost as if the Talkers were hostile to the idea. When I was training here, teachers used to trip over each other to volunteer for a sweet assignment like that.”

Her sister made a face. “Well I don’t think that sour-mouthed old bat who volunteered will be an asset. Why on earth did you choose her?”

“She was the only one to come forward, Genevieve,” Drusilla reminded her. “I can’t force anyone to come out to the Isle, you know that.”

“So, what are you going to do?” Genevieve inquired. She and Gideon were expecting their first child during the Planting Festival, and Drusilla had noticed she had developed a habit of patting her belly protectively. She did it now.

“Someone needs to find out what is going on, but I can’t stay here and root it out. I promised Katherine I would go back to Veiled Isle and help with tutoring Violet and some of the other children while Mistress Leona is laid up. I think I need to talk to Lucas,” Drusilla said thoughtfully. “He’s going to be here for at least eight weeks and he is a trained investigator. Once we know what is wrong, we can decide what steps to take.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Genevieve remarked, reflecting with hidden amusement that over the past year Drusilla seemed to have developed a lot of confidence in Lucas. I do hope he’s on her List because I think they might make a good match after all, she thought. I’ll have to ask Katherine to check when we go back to Veiled Isle.

Drusilla had met Lucas, who was here to take the training, the first day he had arrived on Vensoog with Genevieve’s husband Gideon. Lucas was Gideon’s foster son and he had emigrated with him when Gideon married Genevieve. Gideon’s marriage to Genevieve, as well as that of many of Gideon’s unit who had chosen to take part in the Handfasting, had been necessary to restore a healthy genetic balance to Vensoog.

Although Drusilla and Lucas had been considered too young to participate, the two of them had spent a lot of time together. Lucas had been the first young man to pay her the kind of attention a man gives an attractive woman, and Drusilla had found herself immediately attracted to Lucas as well. His quirky sense of humor and sturdy common sense had appealed to her. He wasn’t bad looking either. Lucas was tall, with a born rider’s broad shouldered, narrow hipped build, but his body showed the promise of the heavy muscles that would come as he aged. Like his foster father Gideon, he had light hair that he kept short soldier fashion, sharp green eyes and clean cut features.

To Drusilla’s bewilderment and secret delight, Lucas had seemed to be charmed by her person and had spent as much of his time with her as he could manage. Lucas hadn’t been annoying but he had made it obvious he wanted her. She sensed he wasn’t going to be patient with her waffling about deciding forever.

For the past several months he had shown all the signs of a man who wanted more than just friendship, and Drusilla knew she was going to have to decide about her relationship with Lucas soon because the Makers were going to give them their Match Lists at the next Planting Festival.

Behind them, she could hear Genevieve’s two foster daughters, Ceridwen and Bronwen playing with a new litter of Quirka pups. Drusilla’s own Quirka, Toula, nuzzled her ear gently in sympathy with her unease. Quirka were native to Vensoog. They were about the size of a human fist, with thick, mottled yellow fur that changed color to match their environment. Originally making their homes in the trees and living on nuts, berries and insects, Quirkas had become avid hunters of the pests and creepy-crawlies who invaded human dwellings. Their main protection against predators was their retractable, venom tipped quills running down the backbone. They had a large bushy tail used for ballast when leaping from tree to tree. One of their chief attractions to humans though was the life bond they developed with certain men and women.

Leaving Genevieve and the children playing with the Quirka pups, she headed for the student dormitory area. Drusilla spotted Lucas’s tall form in one of the dormitory sections kept for temporary training classes. Tomorrow, she knew the incoming class would begin the rigorous conditioning designed to give them the mental and physical stamina needed to turn them into Dragon Talkers. Tonight however they were given free time to settle in.

When she appeared in the doorway, Lucas immediately came toward her. “I need to speak to you,” she said softly, “Outside.”

This caused some good-natured teasing as he ushered her outside.

“Sorry about that,” he said smiling. “Most of them know I’ve got a special feeling for you. They don’t mean anything by it.”

She waved it away. “Look, there’s something funny going on here on the Isle. I can’t stay and root it out, but since you have to be here anyway, I thought maybe you could look around some.”

If he was disappointed at her reason for seeking him out, it didn’t show in his face. “Sure,” he said, putting an arm around her shoulders and giving her a one-armed hug. “I’ll keep an eye on things for you, but I want a real date when we get to the Festival.”

Drusilla almost stamped her foot in exasperation. “Honestly, is that all you can think about? I tell you there might be trouble brewing and you want to talk about our Match Lists?”

“Well, what is going on here on the Isle is important, but then I think we are too.”

“Oh, alright!” she exclaimed. “We can go to the Introductory Ball together, okay?”

“You got it Darling,” he said, managing to plant a quick kiss on her mouth before walking away. “Oh, by the way” he said over his shoulder, “I was going to keep an eye on things anyway; Gideon already gave me a watching brief on it.”

This time she did stamp her foot. How did he always manage to knock her off balance? No one else did that to her because she didn’t allow it. Somehow though, Lucas always managed it.                  Despite her irritation at falling for his trick, she watched him walk all the way back to the dormitory, unwillingly admiring the effortless way he moved. She couldn’t help but appreciate his cleverness, despite her irritation because he had tricked her again. Somehow, Lucas roused a response in her physically and emotionally in a way she had never allowed another man to do, and darn it, he had managed to kiss her again. Drusilla sighed in exasperation. The problem wasn’t with Lucas, she admitted. If she hadn’t kissed him back every time, he wouldn’t have reason to think she was falling in love with him. The real trouble, Drusilla acknowledged, was she was afraid he was right. She wasn’t exactly proud of her behavior; it wasn’t fair of her to allow him to kiss her and then push him away. It wasn’t Lucas’s fault she was afraid of the emotion growing between them—she knew was leery of her own power and what a loss of control could mean to others around her.

Irritably, she kicked a pebble off the path back to the guest quarters. She had looked forward to the peace and tranquility she had always found here, but she hadn’t found it on this trip. Yes, someone was going to pay for spoiling Talker’s Isle. Drusilla intended to make sure of it.

Pawn To Kings Four

LUCAS’S FIRST morning on Talker’s Isle started with being rousted out at dawn to run along the rocky shoreline. The beaches on Talker’s Isle were not made of smooth sand but of crushed pebbles intersected with up-thrust outcroppings of rocks, ranging from fist-sized stones to boulders. That made running the beach course set up by their instructor something of a hazard. The calisthenics teacher, Senior Talker Marian, plainly expected her new students to have difficulty with the course. To her surprise, Lucas and the rest of Gideon’s people not only ran the course without stumbling, none of them was out of breath when they finished. Some of the ex-military trainees even had energy left afterwards for a little horseplay.

Marian frowned at them when they ended the run. “You are in remarkably good shape,” she said to Tim Morgan, the leader of the group.

He smiled at her. “That little stretch? The courses we ran in training were twice as long and we carried eighty pound packs and weapons when we did it.”

“I see,” she said. “In that case, let’s start with the run most of our classes finish with. Follow me,” and she took off, running up the cliff trail from the shore. For the next hour, she led them up into the rocky hills above the Talker Compound, and then across the Isle and back down to the beach, ending up just outside the complex, where she stopped and ran in place while she took stock of her new class. They were all in wonderful shape, she admitted, admiring Tim Morgan’s physique as he jogged in place. This group might not be exhausted at the end of this run, but at least they now knew they’d had a workout.

“Okay,” she called, “cool down and then go in and have breakfast. Your first class in how to push and pull will begin in an hour in classroom four. Your teacher will be Senior Talker Terella.”

After breakfast, Lucas was a little surprised when he entered the room for the next class to find no chairs or desks. The teacher, Senior Talker Terella, must have been in her eighties. She was a wizened figure of a woman with thinning white hair twisted into a knot on the top of her head. However, her bright blue eyes were clear and sharp. For this class, they had each been issued a pair loose pants and a sleeveless pullover top. When he entered the room, Lucas was instructed to take off his shoes and stack them over by a row of woven mats piled against one wall. After everyone had taken a mat, they all lined up in rows with the mats at their feet. Terella walked around the class and shifted some of the trainees to different spots, sorting them (apparently) by the amount of room they might take up lying full length. Once she had the class arranged to her satisfaction, the students were told to step onto the mats. Terella began to lead them in some of the weirdest bending and stretching exercises Lucas had ever seen, let alone tried to perform.

When Terella decided it was time for them to start breathing exercises, Lucas was bent over backwards with his hands flat on the floor. Along with several others, he started to straighten up, and was told to stay in the bent backward position.

With his head hanging upside down, Lucas looked across at Morgan who had ended up in the same position across from him, and made a grimace, getting an eye roll in return. Terella laughed.

“You all are wondering why now we do meditation, yes? Well, to become a talker, you must learn to ignore your body’s sensations and work your mind. For the next ten minutes, I will count and you will breathe in and out. One, breathe in, two, breathe in, three, breathe in, one breathe out….”

When she finished this torture, she had them all sit cross-legged on the mat and repeat the same exercise.

Finally, she told them to sit and listen to the sounds around them, identifying each one silently and then to try to locate where it was coming from without opening their eyes. As he did this exercise, Taid’s crystal began to feel uncomfortably warm against Lucas’s skin. So much so that he finally pulled it out and let it lie against the shirt material instead of his bare skin. Terella noticed his discomfort and came by his station on the mat. She bopped him on the back of the head with the back of her hand. “Focus!” she said sharply. “Ignore the pain!”

When she finally allowed them to open their eyes, she explained to them that they had just undergone their first lesson in finding a pull. A pull, she explained is when you use your third eye to locate things close to you. “Later, we will work on doing a pull at a distance,” she said smiling.

Just before the class broke up, she let each of them feel her touch at the edge of their senses. Again, Lucas could feel the crystal heating up. This time he realized he was seeing Terella’s push as a ray of light yellow color that softly touched each student in the class.

When she dismissed the class to go to lunch, she stopped Lucas as he was about to leave. “Are you alright, My Lord?” she asked.

He nodded, hesitating and then he asked, “Has anyone ever reported seeing a push?”

“No,” she replied, “but I can sense you are unusually gifted in some ways. Could you see something when I pushed the class just now?”

“Yes. A very soft yellow stream of light touched everyone. This heated up too,” he added, indicating the crystal.

“May I touch it?”

When he nodded consent, she touched the crystal with the tip of a finger and then drew back quickly. “There is a great deal of power locked up in this. Where did you get it?”

“It’s a family heirloom. My grandfather left it with a friend to be passed on to me when I was old enough. It’s supposed to help me assume my family legacy,” he said, tucking the now cool crystal back inside his shirt.

“I suggest you be very careful when you open it up,” she warned him. “As I said, it’s very powerful. However, it seems to be tuned to you in some fashion so that should provide some measure of safety. Yellow did you say? Hummm…”

Lucas left, determined to do some research about his grandfather’s gift in his first spare minute. As it happened though, he didn’t have many spare minutes for the rest of the day.

The afternoon teacher was a man named Gerard Colson who insisted they address him as Senior Talker Colson, a formality none of the other teachers had bothered with. Colson was a tall, thin man with a narrow, long-jawed face. A plume of shiny black hair fell romantically over his forehead. It was obvious within the first few minutes of class that the Senior Talker didn’t believe this class had any worthy students.

“To be a Dragon Talker,” Colson stated arrogantly, “you must be able to focus your mind on the dragon’s emotions and tune out distractions. I doubt many of you will be able to do this, especially coming from a military background, but we’ll see.”

The next thing he did was slam a hard push of embarrassment and unworthiness straight at Lucas whom he apparently thought would be the weakest of the group. Lucas could see a wide black band push outward from Colson, and he could feel the pressure of the push like a physical blow. Taid’s gift flashed white hot, and when Lucas instinctively grabbed the front of his shirt to pull the crystal away from his skin, he found he could shove back at the negative feelings. As he pushed back, he could see the black wave beginning to turn grey. Gradually, the grey grew lighter and then began to creep back along the wave toward Colson. Colson staggered, catching himself on the edge of the teacher’s desk in the front of the room.

Giving Lucas a shocked look, Colson abruptly cut off push before the counter wave of light Lucas was generating reached him. He was very careful after that first attempt not to try to overpower Lucas when he pushed at him during the rest of the class. He said nothing about it however. No one had bothered to tell Colson that all the men and women taking this class had first been vetted by Drusilla to make sure they could handle the training. He became visibly more irate as the class progressed.

Lucas found the last class of the day self-defense and weapon handling, in particular, the Force Wand, a relief. Having seen one in action on Fenris, he already knew that a Vensoog Force Wand was made of titanium/steel, covered in the Rainbow tree hardwood.

“This is a standard Force Wand,” the teacher, a tough, wiry woman with a shock of short cut brown hair, informed them. “You will keep this one as long as you are here on Talker’s Isle. Once you graduate, you may want to have one made especially for you.”

“Watch this and do as I show you.” She held hers out with her right hand gripping the center handle, and pressed a raised crystal in the center with her thumb. “Most wands will extend to around four feet, which is the optimum length for close in fighting. Tap the same button twice and it will retract.”

She held one of the ends up so they could see it. “This end carries a knife which can be used for thrusting. I do not recommend using it unless your life is threatened; however, it is useful for cutting free a Dragon caught in rope or sea strands.” She touched another of the raised crystals and a four-inch blade snapped out. She walked up and down the line, making them repeat her actions until she was satisfied they could extend and retract the wand and the blade.

Holding up the wand, which she held by the handle in the middle, she showed them how to move the power dial. “If a Dragon is particularly ornery, or stubborn, we sometimes find it necessary to provide an incentive, so the other end of your wand, is a shock stick. Before we are through, each of you will touch himself with it set on the mildest setting. The maximum setting, designed for use on the larger water dragons, is fatal to humans.”

The class spent the next few minutes playing with the adjustments on that end of the wand. Lucas found even the mild setting unpleasant. He remembered that Lady Katherine had in fact killed two of the thugs attacking her children with her wand, so he was very careful with his. Unfortunately, a couple of the others were seized with the urge to show off, and ended up burned by their own wands. Afterwards, when Lucas asked Senior Talker Loretta why she hadn’t stopped the two students, she smiled. “Some are more hard-headed than others and must learn by doing.”

The class wasn’t just physical. Loretta assigned the students to spend the last half of the class Reading up on the history of the Talkers. Here, Lucas found the Wands had been developed after it had been realized that unscrupulous clansmen would sometimes attempt to strong-arm Dragon Talkers to push both people and dragons into committing illegal or sometimes even dangerous acts. If the Talker could fend off most physical attacks, it discouraged this type of coercion.

That evening, Lucas realized he wasn’t going to be able to find any privacy to really open up Taid’s crystal and study its properties; the constant movement and talk of his bunkmates was too distracting and he did not want an audience when he explored it.

However, he felt what Drusilla had termed the ‘miasma of discontent’ that seemed to pervade the entire island. Even Gideon’s Talker unit had been affected; everyone was short-tempered and seemed to take offense much easier than they had before they came here. Both he and Tim Morgan reported it to Lord Zack on their nightly after hour’s reports.

Lord Zack had been put in charge of security on Veiled Isle, the closest of the Laird’s territories to Talker’s Isle. The rest of the team knew Lucas and Morgan were going out after the trainees’ curfew check, but they knew the pair had been chased with a task to look for something so the class ignored it.

When Gideon had asked him to keep an eye out for anything suspicious on Talker’s Isle, he had been glad to do it. Getting Drusilla to promise him a real date on their first official function during the Festival had just been a bonus. She had kissed him back too; although it was plain her own response bothered her for some reason.

During their third week on the Isle, Colson suddenly began bringing the unit a special morning drink that he said contained unique vitamins and minerals to help them survive the training. When Lucas took his first sip of it, the crystal Taid had given him got very hot against his skin and he was hit by a wave of nausea and a blinding headache. He barely made it to the bathroom and immediately threw up what he had swallowed. Not wanting to make a big deal of it, he hid the nearly full bottle in his footlocker.

His nausea and headache subsided during the usual grueling morning workout. He ate the high-protein breakfast provided for the trainees with a good appetite, suffered through Terella’s meditation exercises, and then went to the second class.

Of the two, he preferred Terella’s teachings to that of Senior Talker Colson. This morning Colson opened class with a discussion about the Clan system of government. Colson’s usual method of teaching them had been to start controversial discussions to distract them while he poked at them with a push. This morning, he kept urging the trainees to agree that it was unfair to exclude certain segments of the population from inheriting property or titles. Lucas could feel the man using an intense push to generate feelings of resentment and anger. A Push, Lucas had learned in training, was what the Clans of Vensoog called this method used to influence others. Looking around, he could see that most of the class seemed to be allowing themselves to yield to the unpleasant emotions Colson’s push generated. Since he knew Gideon’s people to be both stubborn and hard to influence, Lucas suspected some outside factor had to be involved in their too easy transition to resentment. It had to have been the drink. Taid’s crystal had caused him to throw up, he decided. Obviously, the crystal had the ability to detect harmful materials he ate or drank.

As Colson’s push grew stronger, Taid’s crystal began heating up again and Lucas could see the negative emotions being pushed by Colson as dark rays of color that touched everyone and everything. Instinctively, Lucas touched the crystal under his shirt and felt a surge of power lessening the influence behind Colson’s push. Not liking the angry feelings around him, Lucas instinctively pushed back against them hard enough to block it for himself and the others. As he did so, he could see his own push shifting the dark colored rays to a lighter hue.

Colson glared around, attempting to locate who was causing the change in the atmosphere he had been creating. He finally fixed on Lucas. “What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, advancing on Lucas with a scowl.

Lucas shrugged and did his best to look innocent. “I don’t know what you mean. I think that the clan system seems to be working just fine, is all.” As he spoke, he again pushed a positive feeling out into the room spreading an even lighter wave of color that touched everyone but Colson. To his astonishment, several of the class who voiced agreement with Colson, now spoke up to disagree with him. Tight-lipped with anger, Colson abruptly ended the lesson.

He was going to have to find out exactly what Taid’s crystal was and how to use it, Lucas decided grimly. Gideon had said it was some kind of psychic teaching tool, but after Terella’s warning, he had been reluctant to explore it without someone to watch his back while he did so. Drusilla was the most experienced psychic he knew and she had asked him to look into things here on the Isle. If he asked her to make an excuse to return they could discuss a time and place for him to really open up the crystal and find out what he needed to learn. At last, he had something to report to Lord Zack. Because of Veiled Isle’s proximity to Talker’s Isle, Gideon had asked Zack to receive any communications about what was wrong on Talker’s Isle.

At least Lucas now had a concrete suspicion to report about what was causing the disaffection on the Isle. Zack could pass the information on to Warlord Gideon.

The next morning before Colson had a chance to bring in any more of his special drink, Lucas told Morgan that he thought there had been something in the ‘vitamin’ cocktail that had helped Colson manipulate the class’s emotions. Morgan frowned, but he had been one of the few in the class Colson hadn’t been able to influence easily and he agreed to tell everyone not to drink it. Morgan had been a staff Sargent in the unit during the war so it was natural for the rest of Gideon’s trainees to obey him.

This time when Colson started a critical discussion of the clan system, the entire class had been forewarned and most of them were able to recognize the push for an attempt to influence them and successfully resisted. Those that had difficulty withstanding it were assisted by their companions. Colson left the class after a few biting comments concerning their inability to use what he was attempting to teach them.

That night after lights out, Lucas and Morgan slipped out of the dormitory to contact Zack. They had been giving nightly reports, but until now, there had been nothing but vague feelings of disquiet to report.

“Well, now,” Zack observed when they had reported their suspicions. “I certainly think that stuff needs to be tested. Did you keep any of it?”

“Yes,” Lucas answered. “We both have the bottle that was given out this morning and I have part of yesterdays. How do you want us to get the sample to you?”

“Neither of you can interrupt your training to bring it here without alerting Colson so I think it will be best if I send someone over to you to test it instead,” Zack responded. A thought occurred to him and he grinned. “I’m going to send someone this guy Colson won’t suspect.”

Morgan’s eyebrows rose. “Who did you have in mind?”

Zack’s smile turned feral. “It’s time Lucas got a visit from his girl. Drusilla was just saying that the new Sand Dragon calves should be appearing with their mothers. She was talking about taking the kids on a field trip over there to see them. If she arranges for the trip to happen on your rest day, Lucas can go with her to help ‘supervise’ the kids. Rupert can test the stuff in the bottle while you’re away from the area. No one will suspect a thing.”

“Who is Rupert?” inquired Morgan.

“Rupert is my nephew,” Zack explained. “Katherine had all the kids’ skills and aptitudes tested back on Fenris and I understand he tested out over level three hundred in chemistry. The kid’s good, trust me. He’ll be able to tell if Colson added something like Submit to the drink.”

“A kid tested out over three hundred?” Morgan asked. “That’s master level.”

“It sure is,” Zack said proudly.

“Wow. Well, our next rest day is the day after tomorrow,” responded Morgan. “Having Lady Drusilla come over with the children is a good idea; that way everyone will just think Lucas is getting a booty call.”

“Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, Lucas,” Zack said grinning. “Business first—courting later.”

“That covers quite a lot of territory,” Lucas retorted smartly.

The Bard Of Lewellyn

 WHEN DRUSILLA and the children arrived to visit Lucas, it did cause some good-natured envy and teasing comments among the trainees, but most members of the unit were fond of Lucas and glad to think his courtship of Drusilla was prospering.

Drusilla had come prepared for the children to learn something from this field trip as well as enjoying a fun picnic outdoors. Besides the large picnic basket, the floater Lucas was pulling held several study tablets, a portable pop up canopy, as well as a folding table and chairs. Rupert had hidden his portable testing gear in with the picnic supplies.

It was unfortunate that they ran into Senior Talker Colson as they were leaving the Talker compound for the rocky beaches where the Dragons nested. An ugly expression crossed his face as he spotted them. Lucas had been proving an obstacle to his plans and he badly wanted to take that young man down a peg or two. After his first attempt to dominate Lucas had failed however, a strong sense of self-preservation had prevented him from trying it again. Pure spite made him decide to take his spleen out on what he thought of as a weak target.

“How dare you bring that monster here,” he shouted, pointing at Violet’s Sand Dragon Jelli in her accustomed place at Violet’s heels. “What if she escapes and attacks someone?”

Violet drew herself up disdainfully and looked him over from his head to his heels. “She isn’t a monster. Jelli won’t attack anyone unless I tell her to do so,” she informed him very much in Katherine’s manner.

“Who taught you manners, girl?” Colson demanded. “How dare you speak to me in that fashion?” He sent an angry push at the child, trying to frighten her.

Lucas and Drusilla both felt the push, and he stepped forward to intervene, but was checked by Drusilla’s hand on his arm. “Watch,” she said softly and they waited, both of them enjoying Colson’s shock when Violet easily deflected his push.

“Are you responsible for this—this foul mannered child?” Colson asked turning furiously on Drusilla when his attempt to overawe Violet failed.

Drusilla’s eyebrows rose. “Indeed I am, and I can’t agree with you about her manners. Senior Talker Colson, if Lady Violet was truly ill mannered, she would have returned your use of an illicit push on her quite painfully, but she did not. Shall I convey your apologies to my sister Katherine on your behalf for your attempt to use coercion on one of her children? An action, I might add, that you know very well is against our protocols. Children,” Drusilla’s voice was cool, “this is Senior Talker Colson. He is a teacher here and I am sure he wishes to express his regret for ignoring Talker etiquette by setting such a bad example. I am afraid you will have to excuse us Senior Talker. We are taking a field trip out to see the Sand Dragons. Come along kids.”

She slipped her hand into the one Lucas was holding out to her and turned toward the sounds of the waves crashing onto the rocks, followed obediently by the children. Glancing back, Lucas observed Colson glowering after them in angry impotence. Using some of his new lessons, he scanned Colson’s emotions, reading the man’s powerless rage and hate. He said nothing to Drusilla in front of the children, but he did file it away for future reference.

Once free of the compound, the children raced ahead of them up the hill.

“Why does Colson hate you so much?” Lucas asked her.

Drusilla made a face. “It isn’t just me, it’s all of us. Colson has always had a reputation for—well for developing hero worshipers among some of the students. I was always too close to Mother Liana for him to try it with me, but when Katherine studied here, she discovered that hero worship happened because he was influencing some of the students’ emotions. One of her friends developed such a case on him that she killed herself when he rejected her for another student. Katherine never forgave him and she raised such a stink about it that Mother Liana sent him away to work with the teams exploring Kitzingen. I suppose when he was wounded in the war she had to let him come here.”

The sandy path to the beach where the dragons nested was covered with boulders and small rocks, but a flat area above the cliffs gave a good view of the beach where the dragon cows were teaching their calves to swim. This was important because in the wild the Sand Dragons would swim from Island to Island to find food. Sand Dragons were omnivores, eating a variety of fish, small game, roots and grasses. Hard skin plates resembling scales covered much of their body except their head and underbelly. It had been discovered that like the Quirka the sand dragons were empathetic. If they were exposed to humans as calves they usually developed life-long bonds with them. Like many of the animals native to Vensoog, they could match the color of their coat to their environment.

After setting up the tables and chairs under the portable canopy, Drusilla directed the children to the best place for observation. Jelli lay down sadly beside Violet and put her head in Violet’s lap with a deep sigh. Violet stroked her face and ears consolingly. “I know,” she said softly. “You miss your own mother, don’t you?”

Drusilla knelt beside them. “Does she want to join them?”

Violet shook her head. “She’s just missing her own Mom, but she wouldn’t be welcome down there and she knows it. They aren’t her herd.”

Drusilla patted Violet consolingly on the shoulder. “You are her herd now.”

“Why is that one not swimming?” inquired Roderick, pointing at a Sand Dragon who seemed to be on watch.

“A Sand Dragon herd always has at least one sentinel,” Drusilla explained. “Like the Water Dragons, they need to watch out for the really large Dactyls that hunt them from the air.”

“Are those Dactyls dangerous to humans as well?” Lucas asked.

“Well they can be if they are hungry enough. However, a good hard push can drive them away. That’s why Dragon Talkers are in such demand.”

Watched by the curious Dactyls, Rupert had set up his portable testing kit and was explaining to an interested Lucinda how he was going to test the drink in the bottles Lucas handed to him. Both their Dactyls leaned forward to see better as he scanned the water bottles, spreading their hairy wings for balance and cocking their heads to the side in identical gestures of fascination. Dactyls were four legged mammals but they had an additional set of skin covered wings. Unlike Quirka who had short plush coats, the Dactyls fur was long, more like human hair. It was unknown just how intelligent the Vensoog animals were. Although the four Dactyls accompanying the children were small, Dactyls had a wide variety of sizes. Generally, Sand Dragons, Quirka and Dactyls seemed to understand a great deal of human conversation, and were intensely curious about the world around them.

Juliette and Roderick had settled down at the cliff edge beside Violet and Jelli to watch the calves play in the water.

Seeing that the children were now well occupied, Lucas drew Drusilla to the back of the canopy and took out the crystal to show her. “I really need to find out how this works,” he told her, “but I want someone with experience standing by when I open it up.”

She took the green gem in her hands, sending a surface probe into it.

“There is something here,” she admitted, “but it isn’t tuned to me. Here,” she held out the hand holding the gem, “grab onto it with me and try. I’ll anchor you while you do it.”

As soon as his hand touched the gem, a surge of power swept Drusilla up and flung her into a maelstrom of rainbow colored lights. It felt as if the light was actually touching her naked body, leaving her flesh exposed and incredibly sensitive. Frantically she tried to put on the brakes, but only succeeded in slowing down what was happening. Lucas! Her mind screamed reaching for him.

I’m here, his mental voice sounded amazingly calm and he appeared beside her, catching her hand with his own. It’s alright. There’s someone here I want you to meet.

Are you okay? She asked.

He gave a gentle pull and they moved into the heart of the light, where a tall, whitehaired man waited for them.

Taid, this is Drusilla. Drusilla, this is my grandfather, Owen Lewellyn.

     The old man he had called Taid peered searchingly into her face. You chose well, he said. Welcome Granddaughter.

What? Who are you? She asked.

The image of Owen Lewellyn laughed. Ah, I see you’re still circling each other. Don’t be afraid of your feelings child.

     I cannot stay long Lucas. It is time for you to take my place as the Bard of Lewellyn. The ceremony I performed when you left Gwynedd transferred your heritage to you. It is a powerful one and you were still a child, so I placed a barrier against the power and the teachings until you were old enough to handle them. It is time to release that barrier. He gestured to a wall that had suddenly appeared. It looked as if it was made of river rocks. Taid pointed to a stone in the center. That one, that is the keystone. Touch it and say ‘meddwl agored, and the wall will come down.

Keeping hold of Drusilla’s hand, Lucas stepped forward, touched the stone and repeated the words. Slowly at first, the stones began to melt and dissolve. A whirlwind of rainbow colored light began to swirl around Lucas, faster and faster, enclosing him. The lights began to look like words, and then sentences written in a foreign language. Lucas stumbled as if he was going to fall and Drusilla stepped into the whirlwind and caught him to steady him. She wobbled too but as she was only being hit by the edge of that storm of knowledge, she could keep them both on their feet. Lucas was receiving the entire load and he sagged against her. Even the edge of it stripped her bare, leaving her whole being raw and sensitized. Her mind and body felt as if their naked bodies were being melded together. She could feel his bare skin pressed against hers and his emotional and sexual arousal just as he felt hers. When his mouth found hers, she answered the need they both felt, opening her lips for his kiss and flinging her arms around his neck. An exquisite tension built between her legs and when he lifted her up against him, she wrapped her legs around his hips. She could feel his swollen shaft against her nether mouth and tightened her legs to bring more pressure. Lucas groaned and rocked her against his engorged manhood, increasing the pleasure they both felt through the psychic link that bound them together. The release came in an intense groundswell of delight that was almost pain, and tiny waves of pleasure echoed through her body for minutes afterward.

When she came back to herself, Drusilla realized Lucas was kneeling, with her on his lap and her legs dangling limply on either side of his. She felt his hand stroking her hair and he pressed a soft kiss on her temple. She buried her face in his neck so she wouldn’t have to look him in the face, but Lucas wasn’t going to allow that. He tilted her chin up so she had to meet his eyes. He was smiling down at her. Hello Darling, he said.

A rush of consternation as well as embarrassment hit Drusilla all at once. Your grandfather—the children—did we just broadcast all that? Are we inside the crystal?

     Well, we are sort of inside it, but we’re still sitting under the tree too. He stood and pulled her to her feet. Much as I enjoyed this last part, I think it’s time we got back to the real world.


     Close your eyes and concentrate on seeing the crystal.

Obediently Drusilla pictured seeing the crystal in their clasped hands. When she opened her eyes, she was back in the real world and Violet was standing beside them.

Lucas glanced down at himself and then stood up, letting go of her hand as he did. “Ah—I’ll be right back. I need to go and clean up. Or something.” He grabbed a package of hand wipes out of the picnic basket and disappeared around behind a large boulder.

“Are you alright?” Violet asked.

Guiltily Drusilla looked up at the girl. “Oh, Goddess Violet, did you feel all of that? I’m so sorry. It must have been awful—”

Violet shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. As soon as I realized what was happening, Jelli and I shielded all of us.

“It shouldn’t have happened where you kids could be exposed to it though,” Drusilla said. “I’m so sorry. Katherine is going to kill me—”

“Why is your sister going to kill us?” Lucas had returned.

Drusilla glared at him. “Don’t you realize we pushed everything that happened out to everyone around us? If Violet hadn’t been able to raise a shield, the children would have lived it right along with us!”

All of it?”


Violet eyed Drusilla critically. “Geeze, don’t be such a drama queen. Jelli helped me shield us so we really didn’t feel anything we shouldn’t.”

“Thank you for your help Violet,” Drusilla said wryly. “You’re quite a kid. Katherine is lucky to have you as a daughter.”

“I’m hungry,” announced Rupert coming up to them. “Can we eat now?”

“That’s a good idea,” Lucas hastily agreed. “While we eat, you can tell me what you found in the bottle.”

“It isn’t pure,” Rupert announced around a mouthful of cold Ostamu, the huge flightless birds raised on Veiled Isle, “But it’s got a lot of the same stuff Submit has in it, so it probably does something similar. I looked up the formula on the City Patrol’s website before we came,” he explained.

Lucas looked over at Drusilla. “I’m going to call Zack. And then I guess we need to talk to Mother Superior when we get back. Colson can’t be allowed to keep drugging trainees.”

She nodded soberly.

Lucas pulled out the com Gideon had given him and contacted the Veiled Isle com center who promised to notify Zack.



Welcome to the far future. Let me introduce you to the courageous women and dangerous men who carve a home on the alien world of Vensoog

A marriage of convenience between two determined, strong-willed people sparks a planetary war and puts at risk everyone they love.

 Genevieve, beautiful, and strong-willed she had become leader of her people at seventeen. A bad betrayal had left her distrustful of men, but she needed a husband to keep her Clan secure. Could she learn to believe in love again? Gideon had been a soldier. After the war, he needed a home for his orphan niece and his adopted son. Genevieve’s offer would provide both, but with the model of his spoiled and selfish sister-in-law to measure by, could he follow his heart and learn to trust and love his new wife? With their world under attack, Genevieve and Gideon must learn to rely on each other and their newfound love to defeat their enemies.


Forever And A Day

The Handfasting – Vol 2

Gail Daley

Past Imperfect

 GENEVIEVE, Laird of the O’Teague Clan, stood on the terrace of her room in the original O’Teague Manor and looked towards the spaceport. It couldn’t be seen from here yet she knew it was there and felt its presence like a lead weight on her heart. She grimaced. Today was her last day as an unmarried woman. Tomorrow, the ship Dancing Gryphon would begin unloading its passengers and cargo. Her younger sister Katherine would be bringing down the man who was going to be sharing her life and her bed for the next year. Although she knew and accepted the necessity for the coming Handfasting, she had hidden her inner reluctance from Katherine, whose plan it had been, and from her clan who were depending on her for leadership.

When the Karamine biogenetic weapon struck Vensoog in the final three years of the war killing or sterilizing all the male humans, it had been a devastating blow to the two-hundred-year-old colony. Since the Karaminetes only used the bio-bomb on planets they planned to resettle, the virus had a very short life span and soon dissipated.

Two years later, the treaty declaring peace was signed and the Confederated Worlds began the slow road to recovery. It did not take the Vensoog Clans long to realize they were in deep trouble. The additional loss of most of the men and woman on the five ships supplied to the war effort by the Vensoog Clans had only worsened the problem created by the bioweapon. With no additional children being born, the colony population would die out within three to four generations.

Genevieve’s younger sister Katherine had come up with a solution to the dilemma. The planet needed a fresh supply of healthy sperm to maintain a good genetic balance. Since the Vensoog people shunned the cloning of humans, Katherine had concluded they needed a fresh batch of male colonists. Vensoog had been lucky in that they still had a viable planetary ecosystem; a few planets had simply been burned off, leaving thousands of souls homeless. Since the weapon seemed to have had a very short shelf life, bringing in a fresh supply of genetic material should solve the problem. In accordance with Katherine’s plan, she and her Aunt Corrine had gone to Fenris, where most of the returning soldiers from this area were being decommissioned and offered them a new home, providing they were willing to join one of the Vensoog Clans by entering a ‘Year And A Day’ Handfasting rite with a suitable Vensoog woman. Or if the new immigrant didn’t want to be matched for some reason they could choose to supply sperm or ova (if the soldier happened to be female) for the planetary genetic banks. These Donations would be later developed into embryos and implanted in living volunteers. Tomorrow Katherine and representatives from the other Clans would be returning home with the first round of new immigrants.

To persuade their fellow clanswomen to participate, both Katherine and Genevieve had signed up to be Handfasted. Showing the strength of their confidence and belief in the program by signing up for it inspired the young women of the Clan to participate. Katherine’s Handfasting program, unlike the previous Match program used by the Makers was designed to pair couples not just for genetic diversity, but the personality and lifestyles of the women with their prospective husbands, thus ensuring a happy joining. The couples would be joined for a Year And A Day, after which they could dissolve the union or opt for the ‘Forever And A Day’ Handfasting Ceremony, which was a lifetime commitment. Not all the new immigrants were male, some of the returning soldiers had been women and they too were offered Clan membership. Those immigrants already in committed relationships had been offered full clan membership for their families as well, but they were expected to Donate to the planetary banks. The sperm or ova would later be combined, as the Maker Program deemed suitable to create children. The donors could raise the children if they chose, but the most common situation was for the children to be adopted by childless clan members.

Genevieve had a great deal of faith in her sister’s programming skills, but she knew the kind of bad boy traits she had been attracted to in the past would not make a suitable husband in the long run, and probably not in the short term either. To rule wisely, she needed the kind of man who would prove a good counterbalance for her. She needed and wanted the kind of partnership she had seen in her parents before their deaths. She didn’t need another handsome, selfish charmer in her life. Don’t be such a wuss she chastised herself. This man won’t be like Gregor. You’re older and wiser now and Katherine’s program would have taken into account what she needed wouldn’t it? Genevieve studied the image of Gideon Michaels on her personal com. He certainly didn’t look like a man who depended on his charm or looks to get by. He wasn’t bad looking, but his blunt features held both strength and determination. His face showed none of the wild recklessness that had characterized Gregor Ivanov.

Maybe it would be all right, she thought hopefully. She needed a good, solid man who would come to care for the Clan as much as she did she reminded herself, and going by the steady set of Gideon’s eyes and the firm set of his mouth under that beak of a nose, Katherine had provided that. Genevieve knew that many of the Clan thought she still mourned the loss of the wild young man from the neighboring clan who had so nearly charmed her into marriage. Well, what they didn’t know couldn’t hurt them, she thought wryly.

The scent of the river and the soft breeze of the cooling summer night caused eleven years to drop away and she was again that seventeen-year-old girl facing the man she might have loved and refusing to elope with him and abandon her people and Vensoog to the mercies of the Karamites. It had been a shock to realize Gregor didn’t care what happened to her or Clan O’Teague if he wasn’t going to rule. She had stared at him in disbelief and horror when she recognized that he had fully intended to take over the Clan when they married, regulating her to an insignificant nothing. Gregor had apparently intended to use her status as Laird of O’Teague as a steppingstone to conquer the rest of Vensoog and overthrow the current Matriarchal Clan system. When the war disrupted his plans, he had decided to run rather than stay and defend Vensoog from the Karamines.

At the beginning of the war, the Parliamentary Council had announced that as a member of the Confederated Worlds, Vensoog was requested to supply both resources and staffing for five troop ships, which they had done. Genevieve’s father had commanded one of them. The Blackhand, Gregor’s ship in orbit, was not on the list of ships provided by Vensoog. In fact, Genevieve had begun to suspect that the Blackhands crew was responsible for the recent raiding of outlying O’Teague farms. What’s more, she had discovered that Gregor knew something about the raids he wasn’t sharing with his Grand Duke, but she had no proof of anything and she had been reluctant to admit she could have been so wrong about him. When Gregor had come back tonight to ask her to escape with him on the Blackhand, he told her that as first officer he could guarantee her a place aboard ship. She had refused and in the end, she had used her special talent against him to keep him from forcing her to go with him. When he realized she meant what she said, he had damned her as he went to join the crew of the shuttle waiting for him. As a final insult, he had shot into her airsled, trapping her ten miles from the nearest homestead and preventing her from warning anyone about the coming raid.

Her youngest sister Drusilla burst in abruptly jerking her thoughts back to the present.

“Aren’t you getting ready yet? We have that banquet in Port Recovery tonight with the other Clan chiefs and we need to leave in about an hour.”

Genevieve smiled at her. Drusilla was turning into a lovely young woman. Drusilla had very ably taken over the management of O’Teague lands while Genevieve had been attending Katherine’s seat in Parliament. She had organized tomorrow’s ceremony and the journey back to Glass Isle. Much tinier than Genevieve, she still had the family red hair and grey eyes.

“I’ll be ready when it’s time. I was just thinking,” Genevieve replied. “Is that what you’re planning to wear?”

“Why not? I’m just the youngest sister, I don’t have to intimidate or impress anyone tonight,” Drusilla replied. At sixteen, her fresh face was bare of makeup, and she had yet to put her short dark red hair into the elaborate hairstyles favored by the elite of the Clans.

“Oh no, you don’t,” retorted her sister. “It’s time you took your place among us as a woman of power. You planned and organized all of this. You should take credit for it. Come on, I think I have a gown that will become you and Mary will dress your hair.”

As the sisters dressed, Genevieve reminded Drusilla she needed to speak privately to LaDoña DeMedici so she could pass on the message Katherine had sent.

“Do you think she will listen?” asked Drusilla doubtfully. “Isn’t it kind of a criticism of Doña Sabina? I mean we’ll be sort of implying she can’t handle the job, aren’t we?”

Genevieve smiled at her approvingly. “That’s a very astute observation. For that reason, I intend to speak to her alone and be as tactful as I can. I intend to hand her the crystal Katherine sent and urge her to listen to it in private. I want everyone to have eyes on you and not notice when I do it.”

Once dressed, the two sisters stood in front of the mirror in Genevieve’s dressing room examining their appearance. For Drusilla’s first public appearance as an adult, Genevieve had put her into brilliant white with a dragon silk, off the shoulder blouse and dressed her dark red hair with small white flowers. The fitted girdle cupping her full breasts was white as were the loose pants and filmy knee-length skirt split up each side to her hips. The only touches of color were the opalescent pendant of the Dragon Talkers, which she was entitled to wear, and a pair of red quartz drop earrings. Drusilla most certainly didn’t look like a child tonight. Her Quirka, Toula who accompanied her everywhere, had been provided with a jeweled collar in matching stones.

Genevieve herself had dressed in her favorite dark green in the same style, and she had wound her fiery red hair into a neat chignon held in place by the golden diadem of her office as Laird. She had been amused when Gorla, her own Quirka had insisted on picking through her jewelry box for a suitable bracelet to wear as a collar.

Seeing the stunned look on her baby sister’s face when she caught her first glimpse of her mirrored image, Genevieve chuckled. “You aren’t a little girl anymore so get used to it, sweetie. Next Planting Festival the Makers will be giving you your Match List and I predict you’ll need to beat the young men off with a stick. I know there isn’t much to choose from right now, but we will be getting some new families joining the clan this time as well as Katherine’s soldiers; perhaps there will be some young men your age. Even if there are no one you like in this round of immigrants, there might be someone in the next wave. This won’t be the last group of displaced colonists to take advantage of our offer you know. Katherine left the program running on Fenris.” She frowned, thinking she still had to choose a suitable clanswoman to administer the program on Fenris as well as the other three planets where displaced refugees were being kept.

“Are you nervous Genevieve? I mean about meeting—ah—Gideon, wasn’t it?” Drusilla asked.

Genevieve’s smile turned wry. “Yes, I am, I suppose. I have a lot of faith in Katherine’s programming skills, but you may not remember that I don’t have a very good track record in choosing men.”

Drusilla glanced at her speculatively, “That wasn’t your fault. I know what he did.”

“I knew what he was doing too,” her sister said grimly. “I just couldn’t seem to break free of him until the last, and I had help to do that, didn’t I?”

Drusilla looked a little self-conscious. “You would have done it on your own eventually. You were fighting it.”

“Yes, but maybe not before he managed to drag me aboard that ship.”

“That wasn’t going to happen,” Drusilla said firmly.

“Well, it’s in the past. Better to forget it and move on,” Genevieve agreed.

The next day, Genevieve and Drusilla waited in the arrival dome in Port Recovery for the first set of the new colonists to arrive. Because she had wanted a look at Lewiston, Genevieve had arranged for them to be there in time to see the DeMedici party arrive.

“He looks like a vid hero,” Drusilla whispered to her as they watched him escort Doña Sabina through the doors.

“Yes,” Genevieve replied dryly, “all flash and no substance.” Just as Gregor had proved to be, she added mentally. If Katherine’s information about Lewiston’s plans was correct though he might prove a much more formidable opponent that Gregor ever was. While they waited, she continued to watch him out of the corner of her eye to see if she could learn more of his intentions.

Their small party watched the first wave of the DeMedici’s leave the dome and the Yang’s arrive. Lewiston and Doña Sabina however, stayed around, obviously waiting on something.

“They look like tough customers,” Drusilla remarked to her after seeing the contingent of men, women and families arriving with Nü-Huang Toshi Ishimara.

“Well, they are soldiers,” Genevieve retorted, “not really surprising they’d look like it. I’m glad Toshi Ishimara recruited families the way we did. Did you happen to notice that there weren’t any children with Lewiston’s group?”

“I wonder, is that because Doña Sabina refused to bring them or because Lewiston didn’t want them?”

“I doubt if she would have refused. It’s more likely Lewiston thought families would be a liability to his plans.”

About a half hour later, Katherine and Zack walked through the doors with the first party of their new clan members.

Genevieve was only a second behind Drusilla in swamping their sister in a welcoming hug.

“We made it,” Katherine declared unnecessarily.

“So I see,” Genevieve retorted. “How was the trip out?”

Katherine made a face. “Space sick as usual for the first three days but it’s gone now.” She gestured a tall bronze-skinned woman holding two toddlers forward. “Jayne, this is my sister Genevieve, your new Laird. Genevieve this is Jayne, who has agreed to take over as governess for my new family.”

Genevieve nodded graciously. “Welcome to Vensoog, Mistress Jayne. I hope you and your children will be happy here.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” the woman replied.

While Katherine was introducing Jayne to the kennel mistress Margie and her new nanny dogs, Genevieve had time to take stock of the men who had followed Katherine off the shuttle. She was uncomfortably aware of Gideon Michaels studying her as well. She was about to take matters into her own hands and introduce herself when Katherine turned back to her.

“Genevieve, may I present Colonel Gideon Michaels, his son Lucas and his niece Jayla?”

Genevieve held out her hand and Gideon bowed over it, brushing it with a kiss. “Lady Genevieve, I am honored to meet you,” he said, retaining his grip on her hand when he rose.

She smiled back at him. “Just Genevieve, please. Since we are to be Handfasted, I suggest we start with first names instead of titles.” She turned to Lucas and Jayla. “These are your wards?”

“Yes, this is Lucas Llewelyn and Jayla Michaels.” He kicked Lucas in the ankle to get his attention since the boy had apparently not heard the introduction; he had been staring dumbstruck at Drusilla ever since he’d seen her.

“What? Oh, pleased to meet you ma’am,” Lucas said, bowing, but his eyes went straight back to Drusilla.

Seeing what had drawn his gaze, Genevieve’s lips twitched, but she turned her attention to Jayla. “Welcome to Vensoog, Lady Jayla,” she said as the girl, having been coached by Katherine on the trip out, dropped a curtsey. “Lord Lucas, I am pleased to meet you. I can see you will be a welcome addition to the Clan.”

She gestured Drusilla forward. “Gideon, this is my youngest sister, Lady Drusilla. Drusilla has been largely responsible for organizing the ceremony this afternoon and the journey back to Glass City we will take later this week.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Drusilla said shyly, blushing when she met Lucas’ openly admiring eyes.

“Excuse me,” Genevieve murmured to Gideon, gently freeing her hand. “Protocol,” as she moved back over to Katherine.

“Lady Genevieve, Lady Drusilla,” Katherine said formally. “This is my fiancée Zackery Jackson,” she said gesturing to the dark, wiry man standing next to her, “and his wards, the Ladies Violet and Lucinda, and his nephews Lord Rupert and Lord Roderick. And this,” she added going to stand behind a young redheaded girl with sharp green eyes, and putting her hands on both the girl’s shoulders, “is my First Daughter, Lady Juliette O’Teague ’Ni Jones. Everyone, this is my sister, your new Laird, the Lady Genevieve O’Teague, and my younger sister Lady Drusilla.”

Genevieve’s eyebrows rose in surprise because somehow in all the communications Katherine hadn’t yet informed her that she had chosen a First. She held out both hands to Juliette and said, “Welcome to our family, First Daughter. I am so pleased to meet all of you.”

Katherine nodded her thanks. “If you will come with me M’Lady, I’ll present you to some of the other families who landed with us. We can do the formal presentation after everyone has arrived at the Manor house.”

“Didn’t Aunt Corrine come down with you?” asked Drusilla.

“Corrine and Vernal will come down with the last group. I hope you don’t mind, Genevieve, but I invited Captain Heidelberg and his officers to the wedding feast this afternoon, so I hope they will accompany the last landing party,” Katherine added.

Largely thanks to Drusilla’s organization and Katherine’s efficiency, the first group of new O’Teague clansmen went aboard the paddleboat Saucy Salsa, and headed down the channel towards the outer islands less than an hour after they arrived.

Genevieve had been absurdly conscious of Gideon’s presence while she performed her duties as hostess. Finally, to her relief the family was settled in chairs on the deck as the boat made its ponderous way through the traffic. Gorla, her Quirka, had inspected Gideon earlier from Genevieve’s shoulder and seemed to accept him.

“She’s a cute little thing,” he remarked as Gorla preened visibly under his regard.

“Yes, and vain too, I’m afraid. Behave yourself, Gorla!” she scolded. “I’m sorry, I didn’t have much time to make you welcome earlier.”

A deep rumble of masculine laughter answered her. “Not to worry,” he said. “I’m just enjoying the sights. It’s been a long time since I had leisure just to look around and not worry about where the next attack was going to come from.”

“You were career military?” Genevieve asked.

“Yes I was, but now I have Lucas and Jayla to care for. I was ready for something different after the war in any case.”

“Well, I can’t promise you no more fighting as we do have the occasional raid from the Wilders in the hills and from a few from Outlaw space ships, but on the whole, we’re a pretty peaceful bunch,” Genevieve said.

Gideon nodded. “I understand from Katherine, that handling those types of incursions will be my primary responsibility?” he asked.

“Yes. Traditionally, the Laird’s spouse does handle security for both the Clan and in Glass Harbor City,” Genevieve responded. “If you are comfortable with the duty, in the O’Teague Clan the Laird’s husband also coordinates Planetary Security, that of Port Recovery and the waterways used for travel with his opposites in the other Clans.”

“At least I won’t be bored,” he said smiling.

“It kept my father pretty busy,” she acknowledged. “I don’t know what types of things interest you yet though but if you want to take on other pursuits, there will be time for them.”

“Perhaps there are some things we can do together?” he asked, reaching for her hand again.

Genevieve put hers into it, enjoying the feel of strength carefully controlled as he clasped hers. “I’m sure we can find something. We will have to return to Port Recovery in a couple of weeks though. There is a Security Council meeting scheduled for six weeks from now. By then all the Clans should have been able to assimilate their new members and we can introduce our new Heads of Security to each other. I probably should warn you that this year it is our clan’s responsibility to chair the meeting of the Security Council.”

“Always?” he asked curiously.

“No, just for this year. The Security Chair position rotates every year. When we first settled here, a rotating schedule was set up so no one clan would be able to establish dominance over the others. The Founders were very concerned about not giving any Clan an excuse to set up a power monopoly. Usually we don’t have so many new members to introduce in a session, but so many of the ten Security Council members went off to war that this time we probably will have at least six new members. I thought if I went with you it would give us some time without the entire clan watching us.”

“Did you say ten members?” he asked curiously. “I thought there were only eight clans.”

“There are, but the Talker’s Guild has a member and so do the Independent Fishers.”

Gideon nodded approvingly. “How long will it take for us to travel back and forth?”

“We have air sleds available which make Port Recovery only about a day’s travel from home. We’ll use one of them,” she said. “I think we should spend the time until the meeting traveling around the Clan territories so you can get to know those of us who didn’t come to meet you,” she added.

He nodded in agreement. “Thank you for arranging some time for us to get to know each other out of the limelight, Genevieve. Seeing the territory is a good idea too. It will give me some idea of what defenses are available and what areas would be likely targets of any Jacks. To design a proper defense against an attack, I really need to see the topography of the area.”

“Jacks?” she asked curiously.

He shrugged. “In the forces, we nicknamed the planetary raiders Jacks because they so often ah—hi-jacked items that didn’t belong to them.”

She grinned at him. “Was that a joke?”

He grinned back at her. “Well, it is a bad pun, I admit, but that’s what we called them.”

She felt herself relax as their mutual laugher broke some of the tension she had been feeling. It was nice to realize her new husband had a sense of humor matching her own. Bless Katherine’s programming, she thought. “Well,” she continued, “after we return from the meeting, we still won’t be totally tied to the Clan territory. We will be returning to Port Recovery each quarter when the Security Council meets. We will be returning for the Planting and Harvest Solstice Celebrations. Those are mainly social functions. Traditionally all the young men and women who have come of age are given a Match List of genetically suitable mates and the celebration provides a time and a place for them to meet young people from other clans. Attending the festivals helps me to keep up with who is who and who is doing what in the other clans.”

He nodded in agreement. “It should help me keep up with things.”

“Your Lucas seemed really taken with my little sister,” Genevieve remarked, changing the subject. She was watching the two of them leaning over the rail as Drusilla pointed out a family of Water Dragons feeding in the shallows on the shore.

“I did notice that,” Gideon agreed. ” I would have said he was struck dumb when he saw her. I’m afraid he hasn’t had much experience around girls his age outside of those in the military academy. I was fortunate to get him a placement there while I was serving, but since he was due to graduate this year, he elected to come with me when I decided to emigrate.”

“Well, Drusilla hasn’t had much experience with young men her age either,” Genevieve remarked. “We lost so many from the fever when the bio-bomb hit us. I reminded her just this week, that next Planting she would be getting her Match List from the Makers—”

“The Makers? What or who is that? You mentioned Match Lists earlier, but I didn’t really understand what it meant,” Gideon said.

“The Makers oversee the genetic tracking program that keeps our colony gene pool healthy,” Genevieve replied. “Every year during the Planting and Harvest Festivals, all men and women who are of age are given a Match List of acceptable breeding partners.”

“Ah—Breeding partners?” he asked incredously.

“Well, the Makers don’t put it that crudely, but that is what it amounts to. The two Festivals are traditionally the time when the eligible candidates from all the clans gather in Port Recovery City. The social aspects ensure the mixing of the population and the lists help to prevent inbreeding within a clan. A lot of myths and misinformation about the Maker program are widely held and many engagements are arranged for couples who meet during Planting and Harvest Festivals simply because of the widespread acceptance that your list has your ideal match somewhere on it.”

Hearing the irony in her voice, he looked at her sharply. “Not true?” he inquired.

Genevieve made a face. “I suppose that is a matter of opinion. I found it to be not true at all when I got my list. And when Katherine was reworking the program to take to Fenris, I learned the Maker program was designed to ensure genetic diversity. It barely gives lip service to the emotional harmony of the couples involved. To give equal weight to each partner’s needs, social status and personal likes and dislikes, Katherine had to re-write that part of the program completely. In my opinion, That misbegotten program has probably created more unhappy marriages than happy ones,” she snorted.

“As I understand it then, you were given such a list the year you turned seventeen?” Gideon pursued, obviously interested in her reasoning. “Do I take it you didn’t like the results?”

“Well, let’s just say I caught one of the men on my list raiding O’Teague land right before the war was declared,” Genevieve replied grimly. “Gregor was from the Ivanov Clan across the channel and anytime he was caught in O’Teague territory, he used the excuse that he was there to court me to be where he wasn’t supposed to be. And he—well let’s just say that I found him to be less than honorable in his treatment of women. Before she left for Fenris I asked Katherine to ensure that her changes were implemented into the Maker program that will be used from now on.”

Gideon looked thoughtful. “They just let you do that?”

“I didn’t ask permission,” Genevieve told him.

Overhearing this last, Zack attempted to turn a laugh into a cough, gave up and howled. Gideon stared at him, puzzled. “What is so funny?”

Still laughing, Zack replied, “Not asking permission for stuff like that must run in the family. Remind me to tell you a story about how I ended up with so many nephews and cousins living on Fenris sometime. I bet your Makers won’t notice any changes to the program either—Katherine’s good.”

Genevieve had seen the outdoor pavilion and other preparations Drusilla had arranged for the arrival and Handfasting ceremony for the new couples, but she felt she was seeing it through new eyes when she showed it to Gideon. Several smaller colorful dome roofs had been fastened together to form a larger area for the Handfasting ceremony and wedding feast. The cupolas were held up with poles wrapped in colorful ribbons. To take advantage of the breeze coming in off the water, no sidewalls had been put up so the entire area was open to the beach. Decorated tables of food with stasis shielding were already laid out for the afternoon and evening meals. Folding chairs had been placed around other tables set up for dining. A leaf-covered arbor for the Handfasting ceremonies itself had been erected off to the side. Behind and a little to the right of the arbor were two smaller tables holding a stack of red and silver braided ribbons, glasses and clear decanters filled with a golden syrup.

Up the hill from the pavilion were a series of larger connected domes enfolding the main house and dormitories. Extensive and fragrant gardens marked with stone paths led up from the rotunda toward the main house. Twenty or thirty smaller, colorful porta domes had been set up to provide privacy for the newlywed couples at secluded spots in the gardens as well. Behind the flower gardens were the acres of fruit trees and a large vegetable garden that supplied the manor with food.

One of the acolytes struck a crystal gong and a single clear note pealed. Everyone quieted, directing their eyes towards the tiny woman who would be officiating at the Handfasting ceremony. She stood under a canopy of green, sunlight filtering down through the leaves. The woman was wearing what Gideon had learned was traditional dress for women on Vensoog, a loose blouse with a vest laced in under her breasts, soft pants and a knee-length split skirt in rainbow shades. The colors made her eyes seem an even more vivid green than the arbor. Her white hair was braided in a coronet around her face. A large multi-colored crystal pendant rested on her breast, and large drops of the same stones were braided into her hair and hung from her ears; she was attended by two slim teenagers similarly dressed but in paler tones.

“Good afternoon,” her voice had a deep bell-like quality. “For those who do not know me, I am High Priestess Arella of Clan O’Teague. I will be performing the Handfasting ceremonies today. Since we have quite a few couples to unite this afternoon, each ritual will be brief. I will ask each couple to come forward and join me under the Greenleaf, we will perform the service, and then you will be free to enjoy the arranged festivities until it is time for the brides to leave for the wedding bower. If there are any here who wish for the Forever and A Day Handfasting, please let me know when you come forward.” Arella consulted the infopad next to her.

“Genevieve and Gideon, please join me.”

When the Laird and her betrothed had joined her, Arella said, “Please turn and face one another. Each of you cross your arms and take the others hands.”

She picked up a thin, braided red and silver cord and laid it over their wrists, allowing the ends to dangle.

“Genevieve, Gideon, your crossed arms and joined hands create the symbol for Infinity. Today, we ask that the Light Of The Divine shine upon this union for a year and a day. In that spirit, I offer a blessing to this Handfasting.”

“Blessed be this Handfasting with the offerings from the East — new beginnings that come each day with the dawn, junction of the heart, soul, body and mind.”

“Blessed be this Handfasting with the offerings of the South — the untroubled heart, the heat of passion, and the tenderness of a loving home.”

“Blessed be this Handfasting with the offerings of the West — the hastening eagerness of a raging river, the softness and pure cleansing of a rainstorm, and faithfulness as deep as the ocean.”

“Blessed be this Handfasting with the offerings of the North — a solid footing on which to build your lives, richness and growth of your home, and the strength to be found by embracing one another at the end of the day.”

     Arella wrapped the dangling ends of the cord around the wrists of the bride and groom, binding them together loosely and tying a knot.

“The bonds of this Handfasting are not formed by these ribbons, or even by the knots connecting them. They are formed instead by your vows, by your pledge, to love and honor each other for a year and a day, at which time these vows may be renewed or dissolved by each according to their lights. Genevieve, Gideon, do you agree with the terms of this Handfasting?”

“We agree,” they said in unison, and then Genevieve and Gideon stepped forward, hands still clasped, and kissed. Arella touched the cord and it slid off their hands, still tied. The acolyte a slim teenager in a pale robe stepped forward with a tray holding one of the glass boxes. Arella placed the cord inside the box and gestured for Gideon and Genevieve to each hold opposite ends of the box. The acolyte stepped back returning the tray to the table, where the second acolyte placed another empty box on it.

“By blood this oath is taken, on this day and in this hour,” Arella intoned, touching the box with a small gold wand. Everyone felt the small surge of power. He had been warned to expect it so Gideon held firmly onto his end when the sharp stab of pain in his palm caused a drop of blood to form on his end of the box. Blood from a similar prick on Genevieve’s hand met his in the center. The edges disappeared as the box sealed and their names and the date scrolled across the top in red. Examining his hand later, he found only a small pink scar had formed on his palm.

“This Knot is a symbol of your union. Hold it fast and give it an honored place in your home.”

Genevieve slipped the box into a pocket of her wedding dress and Arella gestured the acolyte to step forward again, this time holding a tray with a clear decanter and two glasses. “For love and fertility,” Arella said, pouring a small amount of golden syrup into the glasses. The two spouts of the decanter enabled both glasses to be filled at once with the same amount of liquid. Genevieve and Gideon each held the glass to the other’s lips as they drank, and then set the glasses back on the tray for the acolyte to take back to the table.

“Thank you Arella.” Genevieve motioned for Lucas and Jayla to come forward. Holding Gideon’s hand, she stepped up beside them.

“The O’Teague presents her new family, my husband Lord Gideon ni’Warlord of Clan O’Teague, his son Lucas and niece Jayla.” She made the announcement and led the way from the arbor to make room for the next couple.

Jayla looked at her. “Why didn’t you say I was your First Daughter, the way Katherine did with Juliette when she introduced her to you,” she demanded.

Genevieve took a deep breath. She would have much preferred not to have this conversation at this time. “I didn’t announce it, because it isn’t true,” she said mildly. “The position of First Daughter is not one that is automatically given by birth or family position. It isn’t just a title either; it requires a lot of hard work and dedication. You and I don’t know each other well enough for either of us to make the decision if you will be cut out for the duties, or even if you want it once you understand the responsibility. I hope that we can become friends as we get to know one another. Perhaps this decision can be brought up later when we know more about each other.”

“You don’t like me,” Jayla declared, a hint of tears in her voice as well as anger.

“Jayla—” Gideon began in annoyance just as Genevieve spoke.

“That isn’t true,” Genevieve said quietly. “I just don’t know you. I hope we will get to like each other very much—”

Jayla dashed tears from her eyes and said stiffly, “May I be excused? I’m tired. I would like to go take a nap.”

“Of course, dear,” Genevieve said calmly, “As soon as dinner is over. You wouldn’t want the other girls to think you are upset about anything, and they will if you leave so early.”

Gideon had opened his mouth again but closed it at a slight shake of Genevieve’s head. They watched Jayla as she stalked off to the table where Zacks children were sitting.

“I beg your pardon,” he said, frustrated. “That was out of line. She just isn’t happy and I don’t know what to do about it.”

Genevieve found herself patting his arm in reassurance. “It’s alright. I expect these last few months have been a lot for her to handle. Didn’t she lose her parents just a few months before you pulled her out of school? Her whole life has been turned upside down. Her parents are gone and so are her friends from school, she has a new father and a new home with new customs. It’s actually reassuring she feels safe enough with you to lash out a little.”

He gave her an odd look. “You’re very understanding,” he said.

“I lost my parents at a young age too and I remember what that was like,” she said. “Oh, I was not as young as Jayla, but a lot of responsibility got dropped on me before I felt I was ready. When mother died in childbirth, suddenly I was Laird with the entire weight of the Clan riding on every decision I made. Unlike Jayla, I didn’t have anyone it was safe to lash out at, but I sure wanted to. Give her time. I’m sure she’ll regain her balance eventually.”

“I hope so,” Gideon returned, looking thoughtful. He didn’t say so, but his memories of his late sister-in-law Celia, made him doubt Jayla would feel any need to change her behavior. He loved his brother’s daughter, but he found her attitude frustrating. Genevieve’s responses to things like Jayla’s behavior had caught him by surprise several times since meeting her. The Vensoog ladies certainly seemed to have gotten different training, perhaps, he thought hopefully, they would be able to pass some of that onto Jayla.

When Zack and Katherine had returned to their table to watch the rest of the ceremonies, Gideon took the opportunity to ask Zack what had been in the syrup they drank during the ceremony.

Zack shrugged. “Payome, I think Katherine called it. She tells me it’s traditional during the ceremony. It’s supposed to make the first night a little easier. Apparently, it’s a mild aphrodisiac with a touch of soother. She says the effects usually last a couple of hours so it won’t wear off before the couple goes to bed.” He grinned, “Since Katherine and I are pretty well at ease with each other, I don’t think we’re going to need it—Vernal and Corrine either, but you might,” he teased Gideon, who snorted and cuffed him affectionately on the shoulder.

Corrine and Vernal chose to become handfasted, opting for the more involved Forever and A Day ceremony. Several couples of the same sex chose to announce their Handfasting at that time as well. As expected, the individual Handfasting ceremonies had taken most of the afternoon and part of the evening, and then any new single members were presented to the Clan.

The wedding feast turned into quite a party. Genevieve and Gideon as hosts presided over the head table attended by Katherine and Zack and Corrine and Vernal. As special witnesses, the Captain and his officers from the Dancing Gryphon had been seated with them. Drusilla had a place there as well, but she was seldom to be found sitting down. She kept jumping up to attend to many small problems that seemed require her attention. She had provided music so the couples could dance with each other as well as games for the children.

To Genevieve’s silent amusement, Lucas seemed to have been designated as Drusilla’s dinner partner instead of sitting with the other children. It’s started already she thought. I’m going to need a big stick to beat them off with before she comes of age. He had been following her around ever since they had been introduced. If Lucas persisted, she would have to ask Drusilla if his attentions were welcome or not.

In a rare quiet moment, Genevieve directed Gideon’s attention to the children’s table because she had noticed tension between Jayla and Zack’s wards.

Gideon sighed. “I’m afraid they didn’t hit it off well,” he admitted. “Jayla has had such a different upbringing, and there were several incidents—just childish nonsense really, but I’m afraid I don’t know much about handling young girls so I expect I wasn’t as sympathetic as she thought I should be.”

“Well, when we arrive at Glass Castle, I’m sure we can find some young ladies who share more of her interests,” she said reassuringly. “In the meantime, perhaps she can accompany Drusilla into city when she is checking on the riverboat loads. Drusilla is older than Jayla, but it might serve.”

He smiled at her. “Thank you. I confess I am getting to my wits end in dealing with her.”

About an hour after the ceremonies had been concluded and the children sent to their rooms, a soft chime sounded. All the brides rose, each handing their groom a small crystal projecting a map to their quarters.

“Give us about twenty minutes or so to prepare before you gentlemen start for the house,” Genevieve told Gideon. “Our efficient Drusilla has seen to it that each crystal will take you to the right room,” she added as she followed Katherine and Corrine out of the pavilion.

New Beginnings

AS GENEVIEVE undressed slowly, she could feel the Payome kicking in causing slow warmth to build between her legs and her nipples felt swollen and sensitive. She picked up the negligee laid out on the bed. The gift of the gowns to all the brides had been her idea, but Drusilla had declared that there was nothing suitable in stores so she had designed them. Genevieve had been busy with Parliament, so other than approving the material and expense of sewing, and knowing Drusilla was a skilled designer she had left the creation of the gowns in her baby sister’s hands. Now Genevieve picked up hers and her mouth dropped open. Great Goddess! Her sixteen-year-old baby sister had designed this?

The material slid sensuously through her hands and along her body as she slipped it on. The loose gown was so thin it felt and looked like a green film and it clung to her skin showing every curve she had. The back started just above her buttocks, the deep vee in front went all the way to her navel and the split on both sides went more than halfway up her thighs. Hastily she picked up the matching robe and donned it. Looking in the mirror, she realized ruefully that the robe’s translucent material didn’t really make much of an improvement towards modesty.

As the door opened and Gideon entered, she caught a brief glimpse of Vernal passing with his head averted. The door slid closed behind Gideon, but he just stood transfixed, running his eyes over her. She could see him swallow and as his heated gaze rose to meet hers and she could feel herself blushing.

“Drusilla designed the gown and robe. All the brides got one. I’m going to have to ask her where she got the idea for the design—”I’m babbling, she thought. What is wrong with me?

Gideon moved forward slowly, raising a hand to thread his fingers through her unbound hair. “You look beautiful. Your hair is like fire,” he said.

“Umm, you like red hair?” she asked inanely. Her prior experience with a man under the influence of Payome led her to expect their first encounter was going to be fast and a little rough.

Gideon surprised her. “Yes, I like your hair,” he said, sliding his hands softly down her arms and bringing her fingers up to his mouth, pressing a kiss on them before laying them on the front of his shirt.

“Why don’t you help me undress,” he suggested, moving his hands back up to her shoulders and neck so he could cup her face for a kiss. The kiss was gentle and soft, giving her plenty of time to accustom herself to his mouth.

Obediently, Genevieve found herself sliding the buttons open on his shirt and pushing it off his shoulders even as she felt her lips parting for him. As Gideon continued his slow, gentle assault on her senses, she felt a deep, powerful need began to build. Subliminally she knew part of the sexual heat she was feeling was due to the Payome, but it had been years since she had been with a man, and her body was waking up and remembering feelings she thought she had put away forever.

Gideon’s skin was slightly rough under her hands, and a light sprinkling of blond hair on his chest made its way down his stomach, disappearing into his trousers. She felt the urge to see and feel more of him, but hesitated to begin to unfasten his pants, so instead she moved closer to him, sliding her arms around his neck and returning his kiss.

As their bodies touched, she could feel the iron control he was exercising to keep from moving too fast for her. When her hips touched his, she felt his arousal and he made a deep guttural sound of pleasure. For just an instant his control slipped, the kiss deepened and his hand tightened on her buttocks, pressing her harder against his swollen shaft.

Not completely in control after all, Genevieve thought naughtily, reaching for the fastening of his trousers.

The climax of their lovemaking was series of fierce and intense waves of pleasure. Afterward, when he collapsed atop her she could still feel faint tremors of pleasure running through her. Absently, she ran her hand through his thick waves blond hair and he turned to look at her anxiously. His expression relaxed when he saw she was smiling faintly at him.

“I think I saw some wine and finger foods on the terrace under a stasis field if you’re hungry,” Genevieve said.

“Not for food,” Gideon said.

“Me neither,” Genevieve admitted, reaching for him, wondering if the second time could possibly be as good as the first.

Gorla, her Quirka, woke her just as the sun was rising by bouncing off the balcony rail onto her pillow. Her quills rose as she discovered Gideon sprawled in sleep next to her mistress, but after sniffing his hair, she appeared to accept his presence in Genevieve’s bed. The small foxlike pet had disliked Gregor intensely, Genevieve remembered, and the feeling had been mutual.

Carefully so as not to waken her new husband, Genevieve slid out of bed and opened the stasis field long enough to take out a couple of Gorla’s favorite finger sandwiches before she made her way to the bathroom. Gorla’s fur rippled with pleasure as it changed color to match the food set out.

Putting her hair up to keep it dry, Genevieve eyed her reflection in the mirror. She certainly looked like a woman who had enjoyed her wedding night, she reflected ruefully. Her body was sore in a couple of unaccustomed places too. Strange that Gorla had accepted Gideon so readily, she mused. Comparing the two men was useless because they were so different, Genevieve thought. She was going to have to remember to thank her sister privately for ensuring this relationship was so much better than her last one. Everything about Gideon was different from Gregor not just Gorla’s response to him and his to her. Gideon had seemed determined that she should enjoy their sexual encounters as much as he had. Had they really made love four or five times? She couldn’t remember Gregor being particularly interested in her reactions to sex at all other than to make sure she was available for it.

Genevieve was so lost in thought she jumped in surprise nearly slipping and falling on the slippery floor when the shower door opened and Gideon stepped in. He caught her against his body, easily keeping her from falling.

“Didn’t mean to scare you to death,” he said laughing. “I thought we could wash each other’s backs.”

Genevieve was laughing too. “I’m not used to having company in the shower. I thought you were still asleep and I was trying not to wake you.”

“Well, your Quirka wasn’t so thoughtful; she wanted more food out of the stasis cube, so she tickled me until I woke up and got it for her. I hope you don’t mind. Katherine told us they pretty much eat anything.”

“Little glutton; I fed her too,” Genevieve said indulgently. She handed him a soapy sponge as he talked, and he began running it over her body.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Genevieve grabbed a second sponge and began doing the same to him. “You don’t get it all your own way this time. I get to play too.”

Sailing On The River

ON THE third day after the Handfastings, everyone except for Glass Manor’s permanent staff of caretakers, packed up onto five paddlewheel barges and began floating down the river toward Glass Isle. The paddlewheel boats had three decks, two above water and one below to hold cargo. The top deck was the ships control center. On the Second deck were crew and passenger cabins with a long open space in the front. To the front and rear of each boat was a raised platform used as the Dragon Talker station. An outside rail ran the entire length and width of the boat, with a gate opening on the Port side to let down a ramp for loading cargo and passengers. The O’Teague Clan boats were by no means the only traffic in the channel. Small one, two or three man sleds darted about amidst the larger paddlewheel boats. Several independent traders were to be seen sailing both ways, as well as crafts affiliated with various Clans. The Harbor and River Patrols could be seen moving up and down the channel.

The trip to Glass Isle took almost ten days and although each boat was crowded, there was a carnival atmosphere among the passengers, with many of the couples taking the opportunity to enjoy the journey as a honeymoon period. Since privacy was at a minimum due to the crowded conditions, there was a lot of talking, laughing and singing. Impromptu games were encouraged. The O’Teague leaders had all elected to travel on the Riverwitch, which was the lead boat. The sisters and aunt took the time to bring each other up to speed on Katherine and Corrine’s trip as well as Clan activities. Since there was very little to occupy everyone other than enjoying the scenery, many of the couples took advantage of the enforced idleness to enjoy becoming better acquainted. The Riverwitch only boasted eight passenger cabins besides those occupied by the Captain and her crew and those had been allotted to the O’Teague and her family. The rest of the clan was using pallets on deck at night and occupying foldup chairs during the day. Jayne and the other governesses were kept busy ensuring their charges didn’t fall overboard or get in the way of the boat crew as they worked.

As a Dragon Talker, Drusilla was assisting the boat’s regular Talker by taking her turn in the front of the boat, ready to ward off any River Nessies who approached too closely. River Nessies lived in large extended family groups with a dominant cow and bull in charge. Unlike the omnivorous Sea Dragons, the herbivorous River Dragons were customarily placid creatures. Although not normally belligerent, their size did make them a hazard to boats plying the channel between islands, and they were nosy creatures, investigating anything new that came their way. The younger bulls could be aggressive in showing off for the females, sometimes causing boats to capsize during their mock battles with each other.

The five ships had just begun the swing around the last two islands in the channel before they began the last leg to Glass Isle. Gideon was standing with Zack and Vernal near the rail. It gave him a good position to watch his new wife as she sat cross-legged on the deck talking to one of Zack’s twin boys (he was still having trouble telling them apart). The boy was clutching a basket that Gideon knew held Sooka and Divit, Katherine and Corrine’s Quirkas who were expectant parents.

Zack laughed, giving him a friendly punch on the shoulder. “We can tell where your mind is mate. I bet you he didn’t hear a word we just said,” he told Vernal.

The older man shook his head mournfully. “No, I’m not giving away my money to you on a sucker’s bet like that.”

“Hey,” Gideon protested. “I was listening.”       “Right, mate,” Zack retorted. “What were we just talking about then?”

Gideon thought fast. “Those,” he pointed to the family of Nessies who were swimming slowly across in front of the boat. “We were wondering how long we were going to have to wait on them.”

Zack had opened his mouth to reply when the rhythmic sound of the water wheels and the low hum of happy talk was shattered by the scream of several overtaxed engines and the sirens of the River Patrol.

Several watersleds carrying riders and traveling too fast to make the turn raced into the channel and kissed the side of the Riverwitch causing it to rock wildly from side to side. While everyone scrambled not to fall, or for those next to the rail to fall in the water, several more sleds rounded the turn, narrowly missing their careening companions. They were followed by the River Patrol in hot pursuit. The Patrol, being more experienced in traversing the channel at high speed, took the turn fast but in control.

One of the out of control sleds smacked into the rump of a swimming Nessie calf, causing a bellow of pain and fright. Intent on avenging the injury, several infuriated adults turned on the boats. A stream of sticky green goo shot from one Nessie’s opened mouth, covering a watersled and its passengers. Screams came from the sled’s riders as the acidy goo burned them. A second Nessie sent a large wave of water, swamping not only the sleds, but it caused the Riverwitch to rock wildly back and forth, and the rail to dip dangerously toward the water on both sides. Screams and shouts erupted as people and chairs slid towards the rails and a wave of water soaked everyone on the deck. When the boat righted itself, it tipped dangerously back toward the other side, causing everything to slide in the other direction. Gideon tried to move toward Genevieve and the boy who had been sitting on the deck, but just then, Jayla, arms pinwheeling for balance, crashed into him. Instinctively, he grabbed her with one hand and the rail next to him to keep his balance. He could see that Genevieve was in no danger. She was sitting down with one arm wrapped around the rail stanchion and the other around the boy who was fiercely clutching the basket with the Quirkas. She had caught one of Zack’s girls by the back of her shirt with her other hand, keeping the boy and the basket between them.

In the meantime, the Patrol, the fleeing sleds and the Dragons were engaging in a furious three-way battle; the Dragons were bellowing and shooting more goo, the fugitives on the sleds kept firing and dodging in and out wildly and the Patrol was calmly aiming nets at the escaping sleds. Gradually, the fight moved away from the boat, and once the boat ceased rocking so violently Gideon could look for Lucas. He found him at the front of the boat supporting Drusilla as she and the other Talker attempted to calm the Nessies and move them away from the Riverwitch. The Patrol had succeeded in capturing some of the sleds, but a couple had escaped, pursued by some of the Patrol sleds.

The cows had moved the Nessie calves over to the safety of a small island, and one of them let out a mournful bellow, calling the defenders back to them. Drusilla and Macon, the other Talker, were finally able to push hard enough at the two remaining Bull Nessies that they slowly began to shift back toward their herd, still hissing in anger.

Once it was over, Drusilla and the other Talker collapsed, falling ungracefully back on their anchors who sat down hard on the deck to keep either one from hitting her head on the hardwood railing as she went down.

Gideon set Jayla on her feet, and once he ascertained she was unhurt except for being soaked to the knees, he left her and went to check on Genevieve and the two children. Since they had been sitting on the deck, all three of them were completely soaked with smelly river water. The children seemed to be more worried about the Quirkas whose basket had been drenched than about themselves. Genevieve removed the soaked blankets from the basket and wrung them out, handing them to the boy and telling him to hang them up to dry. She instructed Violet to get some dry ones from Katherine’s cabin. “And as soon as you’ve done that, change into some dry clothes,” she called after them as they rushed off with the basket.

Gideon reached down and helped her to her feet. “You could use some dry clothes too,” he said.

She pulled her clammy blouse away from herself and sniffed experimentally. “Ugh. I do stink, don’t I?” she said. “I’ll change as soon as I can, but I have to make sure no one was hurt before I can worry about how I smell. It’s a warm day. A little water won’t hurt me. Did you see what happened?”

“Not really, I was too busy fielding Jayla and keeping her and myself from falling overboard. I was worried about you too.” He pulled her against him, not caring if she got him wet too.

“Now we’re both wet and smelly,” Genevieve complained laughing at him.

She stepped back as Katherine, followed by Lucas carrying an unconscious Drusilla headed for the lower wheelhouse.

“What happened?” she asked Corrine, who was following Vernal who was carrying the other Talker.

“I think they just exhausted themselves,” Corrine reassured her.

The lower wheelhouse was just a small area with stairs to the upper deck. It had several padded benches and a table for eating. Lucas laid Drusilla down on one and then ordered Riverwitch’s captain to bring a glass of water. He knelt beside the bench, rubbing her hands. The captain sent her daughter after two water glasses and then checked on the other Talker who was a crewmember.

“They sure saved our bacon today,” she said. She went over to a cabinet and brought out two vials, one of which she handed to Lucas. “Restorative,” she told him. “Give it to her when she comes around.”

Katherine inclined her head toward Lucas. “Well,” she remarked to Zack, “he’s certainly taking charge.”

Zack snorted. “Uh-huh. It’s wonderful what love will do for a guy.”

“What? When? They’ve known each other less than a week—”

He grinned at her. “Doesn’t matter. When it’s the right girl, you go down like you were hit by a Robo Tank. I ought to know.”

Overhearing, Genevieve protested, “She’s only sixteen!”

“So is he,” Gideon said mildly. “Maybe we shouldn’t let ourselves get all het up over what may prove to be a case of puppy love? She could do a lot worse though.”

“It isn’t that I don’t like him,” Genevieve said, “but she’s underage—”

Katherine shook her head at her. “Relax Mom,” she said, referring to Genevieve having raised Drusilla after their mother passed away. “You weren’t much older than she is now when you became Laird. Besides,” she added sadly, “a Dragon Talker is never really a child. Before they learn how to shield themselves, a Talker will hear and feel things no child should know about.”

At that opportune moment, the Riverwitch Captain reentered with the Patrol Commander who had been chasing the fugitives.

“My Lord, he doesn’t recognize them,” she addressed Gideon, “and he would like for you and the others to see if they came to Vensoog on the ship with you.”



Welcome to the far future. Let me introduce you to the courageous women and dangerous men who carve a home on the alien world of Vensoog.

Meet Katherine O’Teague, the heir to Veiled Isle, computer hacker and all-around tough lady, and Lieutenant Zachery Jackson, a hardened ex-recon soldier and his five super-smart orphaned dependents. The colony of Vensoog is in trouble. A bio-weapon killed or sterilized all the male colonists.  To keep the colony from dying out, the Matchmaker Program finds ex-soldiers like Zack without a planet and offers them a new home if they are willing to marry women willing to sacrifice all to save their colony. Zack’s home planet is a pile of radioactive ash. He desperately needs a new home for himself and his kids. When the Matchmaker Program chooses Katherine for him, is it a match made in Heaven or Hell? Katherine needs to find out in a hurry because Zack’s five foundlings are too smart for their own good. She and Zack must find a way to keep their kids safe from the ruthless Thieves Guild who want them, and what they stole when they escaped, back. Plus, she is falling for her new husband and hasn’t a clue if he feels the same about her…


The Handfasting Vol 1

Gail Daley

THE EXECUTIVE ruling body of Clan O’Teague occupied the council chamber of the Clan’s main seat, known as the Glass Castle, on the Southern coast of Glass Isle in the Dragon Sea. There should have been four women and two men, but the two male members had joined the military forces drafted by the Confederation and killed in action on a distant planet. Their heirs were both too young to serve, and no one had yet been elected to take their places.

Lady Genevieve, the Laird of Clan O’Teague was young for the office. She was in her early thirties, with fiery red hair, large almond shaped grey eyes and a tall, slim build. Despite her age and appearance, during the attack Genevieve had showed both the leadership and strength required to be the Laird.

It could be seen their by their coloring that the women seated around the table were related. The three varied in age from sixteen to around forty-five. Lady Corinne was the oldest of the three, and her red hair was showing white amid the auburn. Her short, clipped nails drummed a tattoo on the table as she considered the solution her First Daughter, Lady Katherine, was proposing. Lady Corinne was Katherine’s aunt, and as the designated heir to her property, Katherine had taken over her place as the Clan Representative on the National Parliament when Corinne retired to pursue her interest in writing a planetary history. Katherine’s hair was not so fiery a color as Genevieve’s and her eyes had more green than grey, but she shared the same slim build, although she was shorter than her sister. Sixteen-year-old Lady Drusilla had only just taken her seat on the Decision-making Council and she was clearly uncomfortable with her new duties. Her pixie cut hair, a much darker red than either of her sisters, gleamed dully in the muted light from the crystal powered wall sconces, and her eyes were so dark a grey they almost appeared black. Drusilla was tiny; she was half a head shorter than Katherine and only came up to Genevieve’s shoulders. She cuddled her agitated Quirka and glanced nervously from one sister to the other.

The four women were attended by Quirkas, the small native pets adopted by most of the settlers. Quirkas most closely resembled an Old Earth Squirrel with the pricked ears and pointed muzzle of a fox; they were furred with a large, bushy tail and front paws that looked like human hands. Soft flexible quills that could be ejected for defense ran along the backbone up to the top of the head. When attacked, the quills would stiffen and sharp, poison-tipped retractable barbs appeared. The poison couldn’t kill anything as large as a human, but it could make one sick. Quirkas were chameleons; their body colors could change with their environment, but their natural color seemed to be a soft mottled yellow. They were empathic and developed life-long friendships with some humans. Their small size (about the size of a human hand) made them ideal house pets and vermin hunters. They mostly hunted the variety of small rodents and insects prone to infest homes and businesses.

“You’re going to put the cat-fox in the hen house with this one girl,” Corinne remarked with just a hint of a laugh. “I think I’ll come to the next Parliament just to watch the fur fly!”

“I think it’s a horrible idea,” Drusilla announced. “It’s so cold, letting a—a—program pick your husband! What about love? Don’t you want that?”

“I know it sounds cold, Honey,” Katherine said. “And yes, I want my husband to love me just as much as I want to love him, but this solves our problem. If we don’t do something, this planet will be unpopulated in just three generations. It’s a fact but if we want to preserve our way of life, we need fresh DNA sources. Another fact that works in our favor is there will be many male soldiers left homeless because their worlds were burnt off in the War. We have to make difficult decisions—”

“Don’t make a campaign speech for Heaven’s sake!” Genevieve protested. “I agree we have to do something, and this sounds like a practicable solution, providing the issues I see can be worked out.”

“What issues?” Drusilla finally found her voice.

“The most important one is the Issue that we are inviting grown men to become a part of our culture. Adult males who won’t have been raised with our traditions. Issue two is these will be men who are used to fighting and may be not readily accept our traditions—”

“That’s why you’ve been working on that old emigration selection program, “began Corinne.

“A program! For what, pray tell? Please don’t say you’re talking about that crap the Makers use to set up marriage matches?” demanded Genevieve. Her Quirka chittered anxiously and she stroked her back, growing visibly calmer as she did so.

Katherine put two fingers in her mouth and gave a loud whistle. “Time!”

Everyone turned to look at her. “If I could be allowed to finish? As far as your first two objections go, yes, there is still a program for selecting emigrants. We haven’t used it since the first ships, but I do have a copy. The program analyzed genetic data and personality traits to weed out anyone unsuitable for our culture. We use a part of it in our Matchmaking system. Once we received the results of the bio-weapon used on us, I realized what would need to be done. I have spent the last year working on combining the two programs and I plan to offer them to any clan that wants them. Who knows Genevieve? Since I did make improvements to give more weight to personal compatibility, maybe we’ll get lucky and our dream man will be waiting for us on Fenris.”

Katherine smiled reassuringly at her younger sister. “It isn’t really that much different than the match lists given out by the Makers when we turn of age you know, and we already do that during the Spring and Fall Festivals each year. The couples just won’t have met each other beforehand. I think we can sell it to our young women if we put it out to them as being romantic, instead of a cold business proposition.”

Genevieve pointed a finger at her sister. “All right Politician, write this up in a speech I can present to the Clan for acceptance.”

Drusilla hadn’t given up. “Why would any of these ex-military types come here? And where will you find them?” Drusilla asked.

“They’ll come because we will offer them a home to come back to. We were hit with a bio weapon but our world is still intact. Many planets weren’t so fortunate. Soldiers from those planets will need to find a new home. As to where they can be found, I intend to present this plan for accepting immigrants to the base commander on Fenris. Fenris was the staging area where most of the troop ships from this area departed. I’m sure he will cooperate in presenting our proposal, because he will appreciate that he could get rid of some loose cannons by sending them home with us. You see Fenris is where they are going to turn loose most of the military units who no longer have a planet to return to. Even if the base commander is reluctant, the planetary government won’t be. Housing thousands of ex-soldiers and finding work for them will mean a big drain on planetary resources if they stay.”

“You will need money to operate. We used to do a lot of trade with Fenris,” Corinne said thoughtfully. “Might be a good idea to take along some trade goods to build up capital and rebuild relations. I think I’ll go with you.”

Genevieve jumped to her feet. “Go with her? Then who will sit in Parliament?”

“You are,” Katherine retorted.

“You are talking at least six weeks to get there and the same to get back! Not including the time spent on the planet setting this up. I can’t be away from our lands that long.”

“Sure you can. Parliament only sits three times a year. You name Drusilla as your deputy—”

“Me!” squeaked Drusilla.

“Yes, you,” Katherine replied. “Genevieve will be reachable for advice by message crystal. It has to be you in Parliament Genevieve. Drusilla is too inexperienced to deal with that den of vixens.”

Genevieve sat back down heavily. “Oh, God. I hate politics!”

Katherine nodded briskly. “Now here is what I propose we offer our new Handfasting partners; full clan rights, that is they can hold property for any daughters until the daughter reaches majority. If no daughter is born, they will have lifetime privileges on the property they occupy. Sons will automatically be full clan members; the woman those sons marry will become holders. We will guarantee pension and dowry rights if they marry into another clan after the Handfasting period. Because we need to develop a viable population base as soon as possible, I would prefer to approach a unit from the same area; I think it will be easier to integrate them into the clan as a group. That way if there are older men in the group who don’t find a match or unit members who don’t want to be matched, they would receive the same benefits as those who do, and they would be available to supply sperm for the planetary banks. The other Clans will design their appeal as they see fit. The only thing I plan to bring up before the Parliament next week is that the program is available and that we intend to offer the Year and A Day Handfasting to these men.”

“What if your matching programs works so well the couples want to change the Handfasting to the Forever and A Day?” inquired Corinne.

“Then that will be up to each couple,” Katherine said firmly. “Not our business.”

Drusilla took a deep breath and then asked, “Okay, but what are we going to tell them about us?”

Her sisters and aunt just looked at her. “What are you talking about?” Genevieve asked.

“You know well what I’m talking about,” Drusilla said doggedly.

“I don’t see why that would be an issue,” Katherine said. “There have been rumors about Vensoog people and our ‘special abilities’ for years. It has always been up to each person what or how much she or he wants to tell spouses who come from off planet.”

“Most visitors to Vensoog conclude that some of us have psychic abilities and let it go at that,” Corrine reminded her.

“She has a point,” Genevieve observed. “These men won’t be visitors. They will live here with us. Sooner or later they’re bound to get our talents rubbed in their face. You will have to be careful not to let any religious fanatics who might want to burn witches past your screening.”

“Are you seriously suggesting I go to Fenris and invite battle hardened troops to come back with me to marry a witch?” inquired Katherine. “That is not the approach I plan to make and I doubt I will be alone in that. Can you see Clan Yang or Clan Caldwalder or DeMedici doing that?”

“Are you going to lie if they ask you about it?” Drusilla insisted.

Katherine sighed. Sometimes her little sister reminded her of a Quirka at a vermin hole. “No. While I won’t advertise our abilities, if I am asked directly I will tell them the truth. However, since time will be so short before we leave for home, our new clan members will need to do a lot of sleep learning to familiarize themselves with our customs and the dangers of the planet itself. I included acceptance of our ways into the subliminal programs about the planet, so I hope the issue won’t arise.”

Once assured that Katherine and Genevieve would be in the list of marriageable women to be handfasted, about a hundred unmarried women of Clan O’Teague between the ages of twenty and thirty-five volunteered for the plan and started to enter the answers to questions that would determine personality compatibilities for matchmaking into Katherine’s database.

Since no better solution could be found, the Vensoog Parliament adopted Katherine’s proposal. Several of the Clans were adamant about making their own decisions for dealing with the immigrants, but they all accepted Katherine’s computer matching program. It was finally agreed that each of the Clans would send their own representative to Fenris and the other planets hosting displaced Terrans.

Katherine, Corrine and delegates from DeMedici and Yang took ship for the planet Fenris on a recently decommissioned freighter. Now that the war had ended, spaceships and crews commandeered from civilian sources were being returned to their original owners. The Spaceman’s Dream had been a free trader and was glad to take on cargo and passengers in return for a percentage of the profit on the sale of the luxury goods stored on Vensoog for the duration of the war. Only three of the clans decided to approach to the homeless soldiers on neighboring Fenris. Of the others, four would reach out to civilian refugees on the planets of N’Jamacia and Camelot, and the remaining three had agreed to take new applications from the Federated Worlds immigration services.

ONCE the decision to use Katherine’s program was started, clan representatives from O’Teague, Yang and DeMedici arrived on Fenris. The next day they met the base commandant, Admiral Noel Harris, who had been handed the unrewarding job of finding placements for thousands of returning soldiers whose planets had been burned off.

Fenris had set up re-location depots for the returning soldiers in the old military bases where combat ready warriors had departed for the war. A base met all the basic needs of anyone who stayed there; food dispensers and housing, which although utilitarian was clean and functional. The planetary government planned to convert these bases into low-level hostelries to attract tourists as soon as they could rid themselves of all the returning ex-military. Some of the Clan leaders preferred to stay in the resort hotels for which Fenris had once been famous. However, Katherine and Corrine had taken up residence in the main base so they could have easy access to the bases’ computers, which were an essential part of Katherine’s plan. She would need to set up her program to accept the chosen men’s information so it could match them with the Vensoog women.

Clan O’Teague had decided it would be best to find a unit or two willing to re-locate and met their requirements. Today Katherine would start her interviews with the officers in command of the various groups who had asked about finding a new home as a unit.

“Are you ready for this?” Corrine inquired.

Katherine blew out a breath. “I have to be, don’t I?” She treasured a private hope that among the soldiers she would find the soul mate she had almost given up hope of finding. Now that the end was in sight, she was a bundle of nerves.

For maximum impact, she had dressed carefully in the full outfit a Clan Lady of Vensoog would wear for an important meeting. A semi-transparent loose linen blouse and pants in bright colors, topped with a tight-fitting leather vest rounded to cup her full breasts, and cinched at the waist with bright colored ribbons. The long sleeves and pant cuffs were gathered at the wrist and ankles. Her low-heeled shoes were meshed on top with crisscross ties running up the outside of her calves and tied off under the knees. A tall, flat crowned, wide-brimmed hat with a veil that could be brought down to cover her face completed the outfit. Although normally she would have taken the hat off indoors, she wore it now for the full impact. Sooka, her pet Quirka, leaped to her shoulder and clung to the straps on the padded shoulders of the vest. Katherine reached up and stroked her absently.

Corrine studied her and then made a twirling motion with her finger. Obediently, Katherine turned in a circle so Corrine could see the full effect.

“Well?” she asked impatiently.

Corrine chuckled, “Oh, Honey, they’re sure not going to have any trouble deciding marriage would be no hardship with you.”

Katherine frowned. “Too much?” she asked.

Corrine shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. Remember we are asking them to make quite a few concessions about their way of life. They need a place to go, but it may be hard for them discount the rumors about Vensoog women and to change how they view their rights under our laws. They need to see an attractive package to make that change more palatable.”

Katherine grimaced. “Especially when I inform them about the re-education and sleep learning you mean?”

By noon, Katherine had interviewed five Majors and one Colonel and she was thinking she would not find what she was looking for here. As yet, she had only one possibility, and that one was doubtful. She had yet to explain the full program to any of the potential candidates because her little inner voice kept saying “no”.

Smiling graciously at Colonel Tomas Lewiston, she thanked him for his interest in the proposal and sent him on his way. She couldn’t put a name to her reluctance, but she had absolutely no intention of considering him or any unit he commanded. On the surface, he was an impressive enough specimen. He was tall, with almost perfectly chiseled features, he had a well-built body, and a decided air of command. He had a smooth manner verging on oily. If she hadn’t had the underlying feeling he had another agenda, she might have given him more consideration. Besides, Sooka, whose judgment of character was usually excellent, had hissed at him and he couldn’t quite conceal his distaste of her pet.

Katherine was using one of the auxiliary conference rooms on the base. After he left, she rose and went to the wall of windows looking out over the city. The view was spectacular. To the left was a magnificent view of high snow-capped peaks, the tall spires of the city and a white strip of beach next to an azure ocean. The beach was sparsely populated compared to the thousands of tourists who had clustered there before the war made interplanetary travel dangerous. The empty beach was testament to Fenris’ urgency in getting their planet back to becoming a “destination” for tourists.

Fenris was named before explorers had set foot there and discovered how inappropriate it was to name the planet after the devouring wolf of Ragganok. The name didn’t call up an image of pristine, snow-capped peaks excellent for winter sports, bucolic countryside ideal for gentle activities or the white-sandy beaches with just enough waves for surfing or sport fishing. Fenris was woefully short of heavy metals, but the Fenriki had quickly overcome this disadvantage by developing the world into a vacation destination for the rich and famous of the Confederated Worlds. Fenris’ strategic location made it an ideal staging area for the military to collect and send out their forces for the war. Now that the war was over, The Fenriki were scrambling to return their world to its old status as the foremost resort planet and trade center in the depleted Confederated Worlds.

Katherine took a deep breath and set up for the next interview. Some of the commanding officers Katherine had interviewed had come alone, some with support personnel. It was obvious the three men who entered this time were a unit, and a military one at that. There was only a superficial physical resemblance between them; the oldest was tall and wide, with a pleasant face topped with a shock of blond hair streaked with white. In fact, Master Sgt. Vernel Thomas resembled a kindly grandfather until you met his eyes directly and saw inside to the tough soldier he really was. Colonel Gideon Michaels was shorter than Thomas but his smooth-shaven, square-jawed face held strength and determination. Although his loose civilian clothing helped to disguise the real muscle in his lanky body, it didn’t hide the smooth power with which he moved. His tanned face was in sharp contrast to his keen green eyes and pale blond hair and eyebrows set over a jutting beak of a nose. Lieutenant. Zachary Jackson was around medium height and his brown eyes were on a level with Katharine’s. He had the wiry, powerful build of a trained hand-to-hand warrior built for speed and maneuverability rather than bulk. His smooth olive complexion and thick shock of brown hair was worn a little long and showed his Black Irish Old Earth ancestry. He too moved with the effortless ease of a man used to physical activity. What marked the three men as a unit was a similarity of expression and attitude. These men were used to depending on each other.

Katherine’s intuition, had given out a constant litany of No, or Never! at the other candidates. It suddenly shouted Yes! at her when she met Zackery Jackson’s eyes. She looked them over more carefully.

All three men bowed as they entered.

Colonel Michaels said politely, “How do you do Lady Katherine. I am Colonel Gideon Michaels, of the 10th Infantry volunteers, Planet Moodon. This is my 2nd Officer, Lieutenant Zachary Jackson and my leading Master Sargent Vernel Thomas.”

The window behind Katherine had put her face in shadow, but it gave her an excellent view of the three men’s expressions as they got their first good look at her. Stunned relief would have been appropriate. She smiled a little to herself. Corrine had been correct; the over-the-top outfit had been worth it. Rumors of why the delegation from Vensoog had arrived were already rife, and by this time Katherine had endured some less than respectful attitudes from some of the men she had interviewed. This was the first group who had used her title without being prompted. She detected none of the leering postures caused by her “husband hunting” displayed by some of the previous candidates.

“Please be seated gentleman,” she pointed to the chairs opposite her. “Allow me to present my condolences on the loss of your homeworld.”

“Thank you,” Michaels responded. “We offer our condolences on your losses, Mi’Lady.”

Just then, Sooka, who had quietly gone unnoticed by most of the other candidates, hopped off Katherine’s shoulder and bounced over to Lieutenant Jackson, springing up onto the arm of his chair. Startled, he jumped “Well, now, who are you?” he inquired, with just the right note of amusement to please Katherine.

“That is Sooka,” Katherine replied. She is a Quirka. Many of us keep them as companions. They are empathic. Apparently, she approves of you. You can pet her as long as you stroke downward on her fur.”

“Why she’s changing color!” exclaimed Vernal.

“Yes, they have chameleon-like qualities,” Katherine replied.

“You brought a pet along on an interstellar trip?” asked Zack incredulously.

“It was necessary,” Katherine responded. “She is not exactly a pet. A Quirka’s empathic attachment to their chosen human is very deep. A separation of so many months would have caused her to go into a depression and she would have starved herself to death in my absence. She was no real trouble on the journey; Quirkas are omnivores and with a box of sand in my quarters as a toilet, all I had to do was order the appropriate food from the dispenser.”

She watched Sooka carefully as the small creature leaped from one man to the other investigating each one carefully before returning to Zack’s lap.

“So tell me Colonel, what are your plans for the future?” she asked.

Gideon looked up from watching Zack play with Sooka. “Most of the men in my command are from Moodon, like me. As you know, Moodon was burned off by the enemy. I would like for us to find a new homeworld where we could all settle together.”

“And why is that?”

“Well, most of my unit entered the service as a group and we’ve served together so long we have become each other’s family. If we hadn’t been together when we heard Moodon was destroyed, I don’t think some of us would have made it.”

“How do you feel about taking orders from women?”

He shrugged. “I don’t see a problem. On Moodon we considered men and women to be equals; women as well as men give orders.”

Katherine turned to the Vernel. “And you, sir, how do you feel about that?”

“I do my job. I take my orders and carry them out. Doesn’t make me any nevermind who gives them. I’m not a leader.”

“Lieutenant Jackson?” she asked.

Zack rubbed his nose. “Everyone has a different idea of how folks should behave.”

“I’m afraid that isn’t good enough. I require a full answer. On Vensoog, our men only hold property through their wives and daughters and they can’t hold an office except as a deputy for a wife or daughter. How do you feel about that?”

“To answer that question properly, I would need to see the text of the law so I can determine how fair it is,” he replied.

“That,” replied Katherine, rather pleased, “is a very good answer. I would have been disappointed if all of you had given me a flat yes. It would have shown duplicity.”

“Are you saying we would be second class citizens?” Michaels asked, “Because that is not something I find acceptable.”

“Not at all; you and your men would be full members of the Clan O’Teague. Traditionally most of our law enforcement and defensive offices have been held by men. It is that due to the war most of these offices are held by women and Clan leadership, property and inheritance are held in the female line.”

Michaels nodded. “Okay, I think we all need to see the actual terms of the bargain you want us to agree to before we go any further.”

“I agree,” Katherine said. “But perhaps you would like to provide me with a text of what you desire for your new homeland, that way when we meet tomorrow, we can see if we want to take this any further?”

She stood and took three data crystals from her belt pouch and handed them to each man. “Here is the contract you and your men would be required to sign to become members of Clan O’Teague, and a text of our laws and privileges. May I hope you will send me your requirements by this afternoon?”

All three men had risen when she did. “I brought that information with me,” Michaels replied and offered her a data crystal in return.

Katherine took it, smiling. “I like a man who comes prepared,” she remarked. “Why don’t we agree to meet over lunch in the canteen tomorrow for further discussion? You can meet my chaperone and mentor, Lady Corrine then.”

The next day at noon, Corrine and Katherine programmed their meals in the robo-chef on the side of the canteen away from the windows and then took their food trays to an unoccupied round table in an alcove. They were joined a few minutes later by the three men. The canteen was in a bulky plastacrete building designed to feed large groups of people. It had privacy alcoves with large windows for officers and others who needed to discuss matters they didn’t wish broadcast wholesale. The portable chairs and tables could have (and had) served ten thousand diners at a sitting. Now it appeared to be only about a third full.

All three men were taken aback to realize the Quirka were apparently dining with them. Katherine and Corrine had provided small bowls of finely chopped raw meats and vegetables for each pet and a small finger bowl of water. The two Quirkas perched on their haunches on the table beside the women and waited patiently for the meal to begin. Unselfconsciously, Corrine bowed her head and said a quick Grace. There was trifle awkwardness in the beginning of the shared meal, but Corrine and Vernal soon provided an opening for normal table conversation.

“Lady Katherine said you keep these Quirkas as companions?” Vernel pointed with his chin at the two Quirkas.

“Oh, yes,” Corrine replied, “but they are avid hunters of household vermin, and in fact prefer to hunt live prey. They are quite valued for their ability to keep homes and other buildings clear of pests.”

The rest of the dinner conversation concerned the animals and plants native to Vensoog. At the end of the meal, Vernal smiled in delight when the Quirka fastidiously washed their paws and muzzles in the fingerbowls.

Once the dishes had been removed and sent to the recycler, Katherine raised the subject that had been foremost on all their minds.

“I looked over your requests for accommodation, and I see no issues we would have difficulty filling. “She began, “as long as those of your unit who don’t wish to be a part of the matchmaking program are comfortable in providing sperm or ova for the DNA banks, they would receive the same full Clan rights as those who are handfasted.”

“From my viewing of the data you provided, I noticed you required everyone to take part in the compatibility testing even if they aren’t planning on being matched. Why is that?” inquired Zack.

“We use compatibility and personality evaluations extensively on Vensoog to determine choices for training and professions. Having your unit evaluated will help to place them a profession they are best suited for. The evaluations help to bring to notice issues that might require counseling or re-training. This will be a difficult undertaking for us all. I want to catch any problem areas early before they grow.”

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