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[Mariko Shimada]

---

Mariko shifted her blue silk kimono as she knelt next to the Koi pond and held a teapot of boiling water against the surface of the ice. The hole it melted would allow the gasses that accumulated under the ice to escape. This would permit enough oxygen to circulate, keeping the valuable Koi alive. Lifting the pot from the ice she sat on one of the large stones bordering the pond. A light snow began falling. She watched the paper-white flakes land and melt on her hand.

“So like Cherry blossoms,” she thought. “So fragile. So beautiful.”

Above her, several Chickadees flitted back and forth from their shelter in the eves over the Tea Room to the feeder hanging on one of the bridge posts. Winter brought a silence and peacefulness that was unmatched by any other season. The peacefulness of the Okiya was just as precious and just as fragile as any snowflake or Cherry blossom, but that peacefulness had been shattered like a porcelain tea bowl with the arrival of the mainlanders.

Umeko arrived home the day before in a panic. A group of some seven gaijin stopped her on her way home from market. They cornered her near one of the vendors at the edge of the city proper. Thinking they were either members of the Tong or solders of the enemy, she threw herself on their mercy and begged them not to kill her. They spoke to her in their strange guttural tongue. Then, one spoke a few words of Tokunoese, but Umeko still did not understand what they wanted. After a time they let her go. She did her best to take a different route home, but one of them followed her and arrived at the gates of the Okiya just as she was about to enter. She immediately alerted Mariko.

When Mariko went down to see what they wanted she found two foreigners, both women, standing outside the gate. She greeted them respectfully as she would any visitor. One of the women seemed familiar to her and as it turned out, she was. The woman named Jolicia mentioned the name of the man to whom Mariko once owed a life-debt and, at first, she was concerned that Jolicia had been sent by the one called Renthar to remind Mariko of this debt. But that fear was dispelled when they told her they were seeking a girl with fire-red hair; a girl who was with child.

“There is no such girl here.” She told them. “Only Umeko; and she is dark haired like all Tokunoese girls.”

Still they pressed her. The girl, they told her, was their friend and they were looking for her. She had run away and they were worried for her safety. Mariko assured them again that no such girl with fire-red hair was here. But they continued to press her. It was no good standing outside the front gates where any passerby could see and hear what was being said. Foreigners attracted attention and with the Empire at war one might easily misinterpret this meeting as related to some sort of intrigue on the part of the Okiya. As it became more apparent the gaijin would not leave, Mariko was forced to invite them inside. It was extremely rare to have women who were not maiko trainees or servants inside the walls of the Okiya and Mariko did her utmost to maintain her composure and polite attitude, but, like all mainlanders, the women displayed their impatience and rudeness by continuing to press her about the girl. Somehow they understood the girl was here. Mariko suspected the dark skinned woman was some sort of witch who had managed to divine the location of the girl. Witches were not uncommon in Tokuno, but one did not usually have them in their homes for tea.

Finally, with no options left to her, Mariko admitted she did have a girl here who was gaijin but she did not have fire-red hair and that she was, indeed, with child. She assured them the girl was being attended to but it was still unclear if she would survive the beating she had received at the hands of the local Ronin. This did not sit well with the women who insisted on seeing the girl.

The peacefulness of the Okiya was further shattered when a group of foreign men arrived outside the gates. This incident was becoming untenable and could easily result in the arrest of Mariko for harboring foreigners during a time of war or worse; consorting with spies. Excusing herself, she went outside to confront the men. To her surprise she found that Judas D’arc, a man with whom she was familiar and who had accompanied her on occasion by playing music for her performances, was among the group of men. Mariko glanced up and down the street and saw no one watching. She maintained her composure and spoke politely to Judas letting him know his friend Jolicia was inside and that they were having a polite conversation and that she would be returning to him shortly. She also made it clear that the men could not enter the grounds of the Okiya as they were not ‘clients’. One of the men made a rude suggestion about Mariko’s occupation, which was typical of the mainlanders’ ignorance of Tokuno customs and society. When Mariko asked him to explain his comment, he wisely retreated.

Returning to the women, Mariko led them upstairs to the pillowing room where the girl was recovering. It was obvious the girl was near death and Mariko informed the women that the girl had been in this state for three days. The healer was doing everything in his power to keep the girl alive. The baby was strong and was, in the words of the healer, “special.” Mariko understood that all babies were special, but he seemed to think, as did the two women who now knelt over the dying girl, that this unborn child was particularly “special.” It was clear the two women were distraught over the girl’s condition and made little effort to control their emotions. Although Mariko had fond memories of Jolicia and respected her for her kindness to her during her stay at Ashencrosse, she could not help but wonder about the lack of self-discipline the mainlanders had over their emotions. But decorum demanded she remain stoic in the face of such upheaval. When they offered to take the girl away with them, Mariko protested. The healer had made it very clear that the girl would certainly die should any attempt be made to move her. She was now a guest of the Okiya and, as such, became Mariko’s responsibility and Mariko accepted that responsibility the moment she brought the injured girl inside. No, the girl would stay until she was well enough to travel.

Then the witch announced she too would stay.

The peacefulness of the Okiya was unraveling as quickly as a ball of string that rolls downhill. Mariko closed her eyes. A witch within the walls of the Okiya was, not necessarily, a bad thing. But a foreign witch? Once more Mariko had no option. She agreed to allow the witch to stay and use her skills to help the girl recover, but with the understanding the witch would remain on the grounds, wear Tokunoese dress during her stay and not interfere with the daily function of the house. Then Jolicia asked permission to visit the girl and the ball of string unraveled further. Like a fire that threatens to spread, Mariko knew this incident must be contained. She granted her permission if Jolicia agreed to come alone and in secret. With everyone in agreement, Mariko escorted Jolicia to the gate, bade farewell to Judas and company, closed and locked the gates and returned to her duties. Umeko was instructed to fetch a list of herbs and other sundry items so the witch could treat the girl. The house settled into an uncomfortable silence.

The morning brought a crisp, cloudy day and light snow. Mariko watched the Chickadees a moment longer and was about to enter the main house when the bell at the front gate chimed. She paused. It was unusual for the bell to ring so early. Perhaps the healer wished to check on the girl before he began his day. Mariko set the teapot down, unlocked, and opened the gate. Instantly her heart froze. Standing at the gate was an Imperial official, accompanied by two Samurai guards wearing the colors of the Imperial House. Struggling to maintain her composure, Mariko swallowed hard, then bowed deeply.

“Ohayo Gozaimasu,” she said softly. “How may I be of service?”

The man said nothing but handed her a parchment bearing the seal of the Empress. Mariko thanked him and bowed low. The man grunted, nodded once and left with his escort. Mariko held her bow blinking at the frosted ground. When she was sure he was gone she closed and locked the gates and, with shaking hands, broke the seal and read the parchment.

It was a summons to appear before the Empress …

All was lost.

[Judas D'arc]

---

*WRITTEN BY THE PLAYER OF AINGEAL AND POSTED HERE WITH HER EXPRESS PERMISSION*

The paper lantern gave off a low yellow light. This place was so quiet; the only thought in her head. Just the constant raspy breathing that came from her star crossed traveler. Her face swollen and ashen, her once fire red hair, now coal black.

"Alisiea" Aingeal pulled the long strange robe over her knees and feet, resting her cheek on her knees, "How did it come to this?" reaching over and lightly touched her foot. "You have wake up, because everything is a mess and your needed" Looking around the small room full of blankets piled on the floor, flowers planted in the wall gave a lofty fragrance. "Ali who did this to you?" Aingeal shook her leg a bit, "You really want to leave a newborn with us?" a small nervous laugh escaped, as her friend gave no response.

"Why did he have to ask..."

In a mocking voice Aingeal, "Aingeal will you help me find Alisiea... please... pretty please" catching her breath it came to her. Standing up frantically looking around the room, "Her clothes... What did they do with her clothes" That simple ablity to merely shift one's thoughts, with the assistance of the root, it could work again. "the girl will know!" Scanning the room one more time; there she was... full of life, yet dancing between the veils. Crumbling to the floor, "Ali...Remember awhile back, we were sitting in around a fire, listening to just idle conversation..." Untying the small pouch from her belt, laying it on the floor it, the leather bloomed exposing a bouquet of various herbs, flowers and root. Grinding a pinch of this leaf, small white flower and raw woad; Aingeal spit into her hand three times, whispering words that were taught to her. The paste thickly smeared on her index finger, Aingeal reached over and running a line on of the tincture along Alisiea's throat, stopping short of her breast bone. Rising her finger a hair above her artwork, Aingeal exhaled slowly, tracing the line back, pressing her finger down on her lips. "Ali use the paint of your ancestors, the words of power and hurry back, this tale has yet to reach its end."

[Alisiea]

---

The forest was gone:

In its place stood a majestic ruin of blackened, broken spikes that pierced the leaded sky like fangs. A shroud of ash blanketed the earth swaddling the lifeless forms of deer and elk. The sacred trees of Rowan, Ash, Hawthorn and Yew were nothing more than shards of blasted, smoldering wood. Everywhere she looked was lifeless devastation. Heavy flakes of ash floated in the air threatening to clog her nostrils and choke her lungs. She coughed and someone, somewhere in the distance called her name.

“ALISSIEAAAA!!!”

In the distance she heard her name. In the distance they called over and over. On her right. On her left. Searching. Seeking.

“ALISSIEAAAA!!!”

Behind her the sound of heavy wings beat the air like drums. The cry of Eagle, Hawk and Falcon reverberated across the land. Birds of prey in hot pursuit.

She ran.

She ran among the ruined trees. Leaping over fallen trunks of Pine and Beech. Across the muddied, poisoned waters of streams and creeks. In her wake her footsteps raised volcanoes of silken ash that rose in soft explosions only to settle back upon the earth like a veil.

She ran.

She ran until she no longer heard her name. She ran until she stood within the sacred grove. But the grove was gone. The great Tree lay twisted and burnt. Split in two its shattered trunk lay open and exposed. Roaches and beetles, maggots and flies swarmed over the living wood until it too was gone. Around the Tree lay the charred and broken bodies of the Fairy Folk who called the grove their home. Their twisted bodies curled in agony. Their wings melted and fused to their brittle bones.

She fell to her knees and wept tears of ash. Her face bloodied and bruised. Her swollen eyes burned with soot. The open wounds upon her legs seeped blood and puss. She tore her hair away in fistfuls of bloody red.

She ran.

Behind her the beating wings pursued. She ran until she reached the edge of the world. Far below, the great oceans seethed in massive waves that broke against the cliff upon which she stood. The surface of the water became the color of molten lead as it reflected the alabaster sky above. Clouds of ash rolled across a sky tinged with volcanic flame. There was nowhere else to go.

Behind her came the beating of wings.

She turned and through the haze of ash and smoke made out a form. A great bird, its wings outstretched, came rushing towards her. It grew in size until she saw it was not a bird at all. Its eyeless sockets glared at her with malice and hate and from its mouth, her name was called.

“ALISSIEAAAA!!!”

Off the edge of the world she threw herself to fall a thousand feet to the dark waters below.


**********

The waters embraced her. Held her. Comforted her.

She floated weightless in a world of warmth and forgetfulness. She was alone. She was quiet.

There was stillness. There was silence. Below was the pitch black of the depths. The unknown.

Above, the swirling surface was bathed in unnatural light. Her eyes were closed. Her mind quiet.

Suddenly she could not breathe. The waters filled her mouth, her eyes, her nose and her lungs. She struggled to push herself toward the silver surface, toward the light, but her legs were lead. She cried out but her voice was drowned. She watched as the surface receded from her grasp. She reached out one last time as if to say goodbye, when the silver surface was broken by a hand and then an arm that reached down to grasp her own and pull her towards the light. Towards the bright light of day. Towards salvation.


**********


Alisiea opened her eyes.

Above her, smiling down at her was the face of a man. Dark of hair and beard. Fair of complexion his eyes shone with kindness and compassion. She coughed and tasted salt. It hurt to breath.

“There you are little miss. You have been gone a long time. It is good to see you again.”

Alisiea frowned. “Nythrax?”

“Aye, little miss. One in the same. Still as devilish handsome and as debonair as ever.”

“But … but you … you have changed.”

He touched his face. “Yes, it’s true. I have changed. I am human again, see?” He held up his hands to show her the paleness of his past life was gone.

“But …” she stammered. “But why?”

He smiled down at her. “For you little miss. I changed for you.”

“But … but I never …”

“Asked?” He interrupted. “No you would never ask anyone to change. That is not your way. You accept everyone just as they are and expect nothing, while all the while it is you who is changing to suit their expectations. No, you would never ask, but I could tell. But enough of this. Come get up. Everyone is downstairs waiting for you. You have been gone a very long time and we are all anxious to see your new dance.”

Alisiea rose from the bed. “New dance? But I can’t…” her hands fell to her belly and she looked down at herself in bewilderment. Her stomach was flat and firm.

“But I …”

Nythrax took her hand and drew her close. “As I said, little miss, you have been gone a very long time. Come, everyone is downstairs. Even Celestia who is anxious to see her mother.”

Nythrax led her down a narrow staircase to a bright and cheerful house filled with fine furniture and bright curtains. The quiet hum of conversation wandered through the house along with the aroma of fresh baked cookies. There was a feeling of peace and contentment that permeated the very heart of the house. Alisiea followed him through the kitchen and out through the pantry and into the dinning room and then into a great living area. Bright sunlight streamed through open windows. A light summer breeze tugged the sheer curtains. Outside floated the cheerful song of summer birds. Nythrax led her into the great room and announced to everyone that their Ali had returned and they were all family again. There was applause and cheers from everyone she had ever known in her life. They were all there smiling and clapping and above them all, on a raised dais that held a throne constructed of blood and human flesh, sat Celestia, a crown of flame floating a few inches above her head. Alisiea choked on a scream but Celestia only smiled.

“Welcome back. Mother,” she stated. “You have been gone a very, very long time. As you can see, we are all here for you. All of us.”

Alisiea looked at the faces of those she loved and found them to be made of rotting flesh and exposed bones. Eyes were sunken deep within their skulls. Lips were curled back exposing jawbone and ragged broken teeth. Maggots and flies infested their bodies while rats and insects swarmed over the floors.

Celestia laughed at the look of horror on her mother’s face and when Alisiea looked to her again she saw, standing beside her daughters throne; The Lady in White.

The Lady smiled down at Alisiea and spread her gossamer wings. There was pity in her voice as she took three steps towards her prey.

“You see, my child. There is nowhere you can hide that I cannot find you. You are mine. Now and forever, you are mine.”

Alisiea took three steps back and stood defiant before them all. “A new dance, you say? Aye, I shall show you my new dance.”

Alisiea began to dance, slowly at first but then she picked up speed until she was a whirling, spinning blaze of color. She danced as she had never danced before. She danced to save her life. She danced to save the lives of her friends. She danced to save the world. And as she danced, the Magick grew. And as the Magick grew it began to take form. And as the form took shape it became another Celestia and that Celestia spoke words of power and the power grew until it became a whirlwind that swept everything from the room. Swept away the fear. Swept away the terror. Swept away the Lady in White. Swept away the living corpses. Swept away the evil.

All grew quiet and still.

**********

Alisiea stood alone in the Sacred Grove and laughed as the Pixies and Fairies flitted and sang in the air around her. The Great Tree was festooned with garlands of fresh flowers and fruit and Alisiea danced until she grew weary and lay down to rest. Looking up into the branches of the Great Tree Alisiea smiled. She laid her hand on her unborn child and whispered the name of her daughter; “Celestia.” And there washed over her a great peacefulness and all her pain was ended. Alisiea closed her eyes and slept a deep and peaceful sleep.



**********

Alisiea opened her eyes …

[Judas D'arc]

---

At first glance, it appeared a pleasant enough sight -- a trio of old friends dining together in the Palace of Nujel'm. But anyone familiar with the history that existed between the vampire Avella Isilian, the mage Jolicia, and the bard Judas, would immediately recognize that this was no intimate gathering.

"... there was a slight misunderstanding," the creature of darkness began as she explained her relationship with the demonic forces that had plagued her visitors as of late. "I was supposed to perform a duty ... I failed ... so here we are."

"And what ... duty ... was this?" With all of the bad and tainted blood between Jolicia and her former mistress, it was decided that the bard would speak for them both.

"Nothing special," Avella replied. "Only important to one individual."

"Who?"

"Who indeed. I am not sure of his real name, but suffice to say he is not ... well, he is not ... accustomed to failure." There was more back and forth between the vampiress and the mortals, until they arrived at the nature of the task assigned her. "I was to bring the young lycan dog who once served my Sire to my manor. A simple enough task ... but he had little patience. I took too long and thus ... I was evicted."

"Because of her child?" Judas nodded. Yet another attempt by the Demon to capture Alisiea's unborn daughter, who was destined to either destroy this evil or aid in its world conquest. "What duties do you have for them now?"

"None," replied Avella. "Our relationship is somewhat strained at the moment."

"If you had a choice, which way would you wish it to go? Would you prefer closer or done completely?"

"I would be rid of them. I miss my ... sleeping quarters. And my manor was so... beautiful." Next, the conversation turned to the strange animal that had been the undead's constant companion since the demon had returned her to the world. "The wolf follows me around so it can take the souls of my ... well, you know."

"Is it linked to the demon?"

"Most definitely," said Avella.

"The ... prophecy. It refers to a demon supper that must cease. And freeing a hunter from its shackles. We think that may be you."

"Me?"

"You have a demon wolf following you around, gathering up the souls of your ..." He paused for the appropriate word. "... victims. The demon feeds on souls. It is drawing power from it."

"Victims? Judas, please," The vampiress commented, almost amused. "Victims ... how ... human of you. Tsk Tsk." Then, a bit later, she offered them this. "I believe the wolf is the conduit for the portals. But it is only a guess."

"So if the wolf dies ... no more portals?" The bard suggested.

They concluded with a bargain to address their mutual concerns. Once Judas and Jolicia removed the demons from Avella's manor, she would hand over the wolf. She also agreed to enter a state of torpor, the deep sleep of the vampire, for a period of not less than three centuries, if they preserved both her reputation and vast fortune in preparation for her inevitable return.

"And hopefully," the bard thought to himself, "it will be as simple as that."

********

One week later, and the Lady Avella Isilian's manor was restored. Six of them -- Aingeal, Faeryl, Jolicia, Judas, Lucas, and Nythrax -- had journeyed east from Luna and defeated the malevolent Lady in White and the demon worshipers that had occupied the vampire lair. The battle went mostly well, except for a slight injury suffered by Jolicia, and the revelation that Lucas could no longer harm their foes. This was a consequence of his recent deal with their enemy to learn the whereabouts of his family's killer. Afterwards, they were joined by the paladin Anna Evanovich, who aided them in their cleansing. As Jolicia cast a spell of protection upon the house's exterior the others removed scattered body parts and destroyed infernal symbols.

"Simple enough," Judas thought to himself, as they turned to depart. While Avella had never earned his trust, he held hope that the vampire possessed at least some semblance of honor, and would still give them the wolf and enter torpor, as they had agreed.

Yet, even if all went as planned, there was still the matter of Alisiea. Although the missing Gypsy Girl had been found, she had suffered serious injuries and was recuperating inside of a Geisha house near Zento. This knowledge was shared only by the bard, Jolicia, and Aingeal, in order to protect both their comatose friend and the Tokunese that had provided her sanctuary. But the others were not fools, and it was only a matter of time before they realized that secrets were being held from them.

And worse, even if Alisiea did recover, she and the unborn Celestia would still have their demons to face ...

[Judas D'arc]

---

*WRITTEN BY THE PLAYER OF AINGEAL AND POSTED HERE WITH HER EXPRESS PERMISSION*

The young Tokunese girl came in setting the items that had been requested just inside the door. Aingeal looked over at her and nodded her head slightly; the girl never raising more than waist high and shut the paper door with a soft swoosh. Waiting a few moments to ensure the girl had disappeared into the maze, Mariko called home, so she could begin her work.

"Ali... Do you remember that night we were curled up on Gauis's couch talking about how brave we both had to be..." Aingeal stared at her, but Alisiea gave no visable response; just the soft rattle that was audible with each breath. "Now you have to be the bravest of us. I know you can hear me." Aingeal slide across the floor grabbing the small wooden bowl. Crouching like a bird on a branch, she slowly poured in some oil.

Stealing a look up at the still form, speaking in a rapid fire Aingeal began to lay out the ingredients for the spell that would soon follow,"...gods below how about swimming in the pond, we used to have fun, didn't we Ali?"Sprinking in a few hard pieces of resin, a large chunk of woad and a pitch of nightshade, picking up the pestle Aingeal rhythmically began to grind it. She began to sing softly, the song that was from "The People". Lyrics that cry out to the Fates, Gods and Wards. The mixture slowly transformed to a gummy concoction. Aingeal raised the bowl over her head, closing her eyes, she began to recite words rarely uttered giving the room a strange haze with each syllable.

Lowering the bowl and opening her eyes, Aingeal added water giving the mixture a thin consistency. "Sorry Ali" ...she spoke softly as she took a thorn pricking Alisiea's finger. Squeezing tightly the blood dripped; rippling the stillness of the bowl and the room. Her hand shook as she peeled back the blanket that covered Alisiea. Revealing purple and black welts across her chest and arms. Hot tears welled in Aingeal's eyes as a strange anger made her hand lose its steadiness. "So pale", she said aloud. Alisiea was dressed in the same simple robe that Aingeal was required to wear here; gently Aingeal opened it to expose her swollen belly, it seemed massive as she rested her hand it. Lifting her eyes to the door once more she began her work.

At first the marks were small and circular creating a pattern that resembled the route the child would one day have to take. Marking the signs of the People and of their protective wards. Aingeal moved clockwise towards her head; pushing Alisiea's hair back with a delicate touch the process began again.

Thin lines of light creep across the floor, announcing the new day; Mariko's maiden slid the door open took a few steps in immediately dropping the tray with tea on the floor. The girl's condition was unchanged strange markings covering her face, giving animation to the void, and at the top of the sleeping mat Aingeal was crouching her head hung low between her shoulders, swaying, sweat dripping off her forehead, the low buzz of chanting coming from her.

[Alisiea]

---

Somewhere between life and death is a place rarely visited by those who cannot see the truth of things. A gray place clouded in misshapen dreams, fragments of memory and stories told of ancient times. One is not meant to linger long in this place for to do so would distort what is real from what is not. The result would be confusion, madness, loss of self and the willingness to abandon all that was dear to us, all that was sacred.


**********

Alisiea danced. Her mother watched. Smiling and proud that her young daughter had learned so quickly the difficult steps that promised to bring men and women alike to their knees in rapt astonishment. A dance that would certainly loosen the purse strings of Lords and Ladies alike. She clapped in rhythm with the tambourine and thrilled to the quick tempo of the fiddle. The blood of the music swept through her and she rose to her feet. She marveled as her daughters red hair spun in a whirlpool of sensuality. Even at that young age she had a gift. Her dance could raise the kind of Magick no spell spoken on the lips of Mage or Mystic could ever hope to raise. Alisiea danced and then … the music ceased. The world went dark.


**********

“You must wake up. It is all I ask.”

Something tugged at her. Was it a memory? Who was speaking?

“I need you.”

She turned. Behind her? No, there, to the right. Wait, no, there, on the left.

“Who speaks to me?” Her voice rang hollow, echoing off the unseen walls. “Who calls me?”

“Alisiea. Come back.”


**********

A gentle rain rattled against the porch roof. The aroma of cookies baking in the oven wafted through the house.

“They are almost ready mother,” Celestia called.

They had been baking cookies all day. Ginger Snaps, Lemon Sugar, Orange wafers and Oatmeal Raisin. There was to be a party; a celebration. Celestia would be nine years old. How fast she had grown. How rich her memories. Tonight the house would be filled with loved ones. Folks they had known since the beginning and new friends who would be with them for many years to come. All there. All smiling. All wishing her well …


**********

“There is no place you can hide that we cannot find you.”

Alisiea spun in the darkness.

“Who calls me?”

“Come child, it is far from over.” The disembodied voice came from all directions. “Do you think we can be so easily defeated? Do you think we do not know?”

Alisiea stomped her foot. “Leave me alone!”

A strange haunting laugher swirled around her. “Leave you alone?” The voice asked in mocking ridicule. “That simply cannot be. For you see child, you carry something within you that we desire very badly and you will bring it to us; one way or another. Do you wish to see all those you love die? Do you wish to see all those you have ever loved torn in half and rendered into fat to grease the wheels of our machinery? Do you?”

Alisiea backed away from the voice and looked up. Far above she saw a pinpoint of light. So small and fragile was it as to almost be a trick of the eye. She kept her eye focused on it and, as she watched, it appeared to grow. Was it growing wider or was it coming towards her? Or was she rising upward towards it, compelled like water through a pipe to seek out the fastest route of escape? She felt no upward movement. No pull of gravity. No sense of falling.

Something tugged at her. A hand? A claw? Something sought to hold her back. Keep her in the darkness.

“Let me go!” She cried. “Let me go!”

“Alisiea, you must wake up”


**********

Alisiea opened her eyes …

[Mariko Shimada]

---

Mariko wore one of her best yellow kimonos for her appearance before the Empress. The red Obi was tied in the fashion of the Crane, a symbol of long life and prosperity and the color red was for luck. It was customary to be kept waiting for an hour or more before being escorted into the Divine One’s presence. During this time many thoughts ran through Mariko’s mind. Perhaps someone, a nosey neighbor, told an official about the mainlanders who had come to the Okiya over the past several nights. If this was so, then Mariko must prepare herself for the possibility she could be imprisoned, tortured and perhaps executed. She resolved that she would tell the truth should the Empress demand it. She may even tell the truth about the girl and her friends regardless, for honor demanded the Empress always be told the truth.

Finally, she was admitted. Entering the Empress’s presence, Mariko knelt, tucked her kimono neatly under her knees, placed her hands flat on the floor with the tips of her forefingers and thumbs touching and bowed from the waist until her forehead was only a few inches from her hands. Without raising her head she spoke clearly;

“Kamino, watashiha anata no maeni shoukantoshite hyoujsa re masu. Anata no saabisu woteikiyoukanouseiga ari mashuka?

“Divine one. I appear before you as summoned. How may I serve thee?

Himeko Kukiko, Empress of Tokuno looked down at the young Geisha kneeling before her with a mixture of pride and bewilderment. Here was a girl, a young woman, sworn to obey her Empress and dedicated to the greater understanding and beauty of Tokunoese culture. She was truly a gem. A rarity in an age when the young questioned authority or rebelled against it. She wondered how it was that the world had come to such a state.

“Mariko Shimada.”

Mariko bowed her head lower. “Hai, Heika.”

The Empress continued. “We wish you to entertain our guest, Myrddin ab'Arawn, Wolf King of Stonegate, who will be arriving here within the week on an official diplomatic visit. You will entertain him at the Okiya and provide for him any service he requires. Do you understand?”

“Hai. Watashiha rikaishite.”

Himeko allowed herself a slight smile. If only all her subjects were as loyal and obedient. How much easier it would be to rule. She found herself growing fond of the girl.

“Rise young Mariko and accompany us so we may speak further of more mundane things.”

Mariko rose from her bow and, sliding her right foot forward, stood in one fluid motion giving the appearance of floating up from the floor rather than merely standing. She followed the Empress to a side room where servants had prepared tea. Kneeling at a low table the two women talked of things related to everyday life. Mariko told the Empress everything. How the girl was found near death at her front gate. How the foreigners had come looking for her. She assured the Empress nothing related to this incident in any way compromised the security of the Empire as several of the foreigners were familiar to her and were trustworthy. For her part, the Empress listened intently and asked several questions regarding the injured girl. Mariko assured her the girl was being looked after and that hope for her recovery was high. She refused an offer from the Empress for a guard and said everything within the Okiya was secure. After this Mariko was dismissed and an escort was provided for her return home.

A sense of relief buoyed Mariko as she entered the western district of Zento. She dismissed the escort and walked the rest of the way alone. As she drew near the Okiya she saw another foreigner standing outside the main gate. She paused and glanced at the ground. How many more ‘visitors’ will the injured girl draw? She steadied herself and approached the well-dressed man.

“Good evening.” He said as she drew near. “You are Mariko?”

“Konnichiwa.” She said bowing politely. “I am Mariko. How can I be of service?”

The man went on to explain how he was an agent of a Baron Emanekaf who wished to engage Mariko for an evenings entertainment and that it was his duty to look over the Okiya and discuss dates and costs. Mariko agreed and invited him inside the gates. The man showed an understanding of Tokuno customs and removed his boots. His manner was respectful and polite and he asked many questions during the tour. Mariko showed him all the rooms including the Ceremonial Tea Room. She showed him all the rooms save one.

“I cannot permit entry into this room as one of our servants is very ill.” She explained and, at first, the man was satisfied. It was only when they were returning from the roof garden that the man began insisting he be permitted entry into the room where the sick girl was being kept. Mariko politely refused. He continued to insist, becoming belligerent and rude. Mariko continued to refuse asking for him to show honor and respect for a dying girl. When he continued to insist to the point of making threats, she asked him to leave and informed him that she was no longer interested in taking his money or entertaining his master. The man became irate and violently shoved Mariko to the floor. He then proceeded to break down the door. As it turned out, he was known to the Witch who was in the room tending to the injured girl. Mariko heard the Witch call him by name; Nythrax. And, he was friends to the girl herself.

Mariko had been deceived. But beyond that; she had been assaulted in her own home.

Had she been a man and had she been a warrior she would have killed the man called Nythrax, cut off his head and placed it atop the main gate as a warning to any Gaijin pig who might force themselves on the Okiya, but, she was not a man nor was she a warrior and so, she retreated to her quarters to wait out the invasion. An hour, perhaps longer before she heard the Witch leave followed shortly thereafter by the man. Her anger at having her house and her person dishonored in such a violent and rude manner was more than apparent as she followed Nytrax out the main gates swearing all manner of curses in her native language at him as he stood there mocking her. Finally, she spit on the ground, then closed, and locked the gates. Never before has she experienced such disgraceful and deceiving treatment at the hands of a stranger. Surely not all mainlanders could be as godless and honorless as this man called Nythrax.

As evening descended into night and Umeko walked the grounds lighting the paper lanterns, Mariko sat in her quarters wondering if it would have been wiser to have let the girl die outside the front gates rather than have the peace of the Okiya shattered like a broken dream. There was, however, one thing she was quite certain of; the gates of the Okiya would remain locked to all outsiders not known to her and the man called Nythrax, one way or another, would die for his offense.

[Renthar]

---

"Do you know which magic I find most interesting?" Renthar asked of Minalan Zhalfast. They sat together at the Salty Dog Tavern in Britain, along with that servant of the demon who had been lingering about as of late. She was overly fond of disguises and tempting bargains, and tonight she called herself Jocelyn.

"What magic do you find most interesting?" The Red Sorcerer repeated the question back to him.

"People magic," the tall, strange-eyed mage explained. "They make the most wonderful reagents. And it's never quite predictable."

********

It was almost a perfect day ...

-- "...your former Tokunese concubine has moved to Zento," Minalan advised him. Mariko Shimada, the Geisha who owed Renthar a life-debt, had vanished some months ago from Ashencrosse. But now he knew exactly where to find her ... --

-- "If ye've come for it, I'm afraid I've nothin' but disappointment for ye. Lord Striker helped t' rid us o' it some time after yer departure," the Countess Aurelia Bretane told them, after the strange-eyed mage, the Red Sorcerer, and "Jocelyn" journeyed to her town of Ashencrosse, searching for a magical, cursed axe that drove the minds of men into a rage. Still, it was not an entirely fruitless endeavor, for the visit had allowed him to set eyes upon his Countess once again ... --

-- "Ran off," Nythrax responded when asked how his little Alisiea fared. Renthar found it surprising that the pregnant gypsy had chosen to depart without a word to her friends, especially with demons constantly in pursuit ... --

-- "A portal location as requested. Inside the Wisp Dungeon in Ilshenar," revealed the temptress of many faces, fulfilling her obligation that existed between them. Then, in a manner most vulgar, the tall magic-user marked her as his ... --

-- "One dead cultist," his favorite servant of the demon informed him. "And one prisoner," added the elf Faeryl. Renthar had sent the two of them to Fire Island to retrieve a captive kept there by the Keepers of the Seventh Death. This man, whoever he was, could only serve to further the plans of the strange-eyed mage and his hidden ally ... --

... nearly all his expectations met.

********

"So why does it matter?" Minalan inquired as they continued their talk of Renthar's past relationship with the Countess of Ashencrosse and her town. "Is temporal power that important to you?"

"It isn't about power."

"It's always about power," the Red Sorcerer countered. "You lie."

The strange-eyed mage shook his head. "It's about magic."

"In this case," his comrade continued, "you decided to be manipulative, instead of exercising a display of your destructive forces."

"You're right," Renthar agreed. "I could've killed her. I could've attempted to bewitch her and bend her to my will. Instead, all I did was offer her a choice." Then he rose to his feet, and offered his fellow spellcaster one final piece of advice before the three of them departed the tavern.

"Eventually even books become tiring, Red Minalan. Don't get lost in the pages ..."

[Mariko Shimada]

---

Umeko busied herself changing the flowers in the room where the girl was kept. She also emptied and refreshed the coals in the heating brazier. The Witch had been chanting for days until the gaijin man came and violated the house. Umeko was thankful the Witch had left because her chanting was making her nervous. Witches in someone’s house always brought bad luck. But she guessed the Witch would return before too long. If Umeko was anything. she was a realist.

Removing the sweaty, soiled bedclothes, Umeko slipped through the newly repaired doorway of wood and rice-paper and carried the bundle down to the wash-room where she laid them in a tub of warm water to soak. She would return later to scrub them and hang them to dry. Going back upstairs she took fresh linen from the storage and carried them back to the room. Sliding open the door she slipped inside and replaced the bedclothes. The girl’s body was still as gray as the winter sky. Umeko was a realist. She had seen this before when her own mother died. This color of flesh always preceded death. A day or two at most she guessed. She covered the girl with fresh linen and gathered up the plate of food that had been left for the Witch the night before. Hardly anything had been eaten. Umeko stared at the half-eaten plate of food and wondered about death. No one had ever died within the walls of the Okiya before. Would the girl’s ghost wander these halls? Would her ghost hold the hand of her child?

Umeko closed her eyes and whispered a prayer that she would not see the ghost of this girl and her child ever in these halls. The Okiya was a place of life not death. A place where people came to celebrate the living and find peace away from the hardships that often haunted them in the world outside. The wounded of spirit came to be healed. The troubled came to forget. The honored came to be honored more and the humble came to be raised up like royalty. This was not a place to die, but to live.

Umeko wiped a single tear from her eye and turned to go. As she did, her gaze fell upon the girl and her breath caught in her chest.

The girl was awake and was looking at Umeko with her one green and one gray eye. Umeko dropped the plate of food and scampered from the room. Rushing downstairs she searched the house for her mistress and found her in the Tea Room practicing her calligraphy.

“Aijin,” she stammered, pointing to the upstairs room. “No onnanokoha … onnanokoha oki tei masu.”

“Mistress. The girl … the girl. She is awake.”

Mariko set the brush and ink aside and followed Umeko up to the pillowing room where the girl was kept. Entering the room Mariko saw that, indeed the girl was awake, returned from her visit to the underworld. Mariko slid across the mats and gently lifted the girls head then set it on her own lap. She brushed hair from the girl’s forehead and felt her face. Still her flesh was cool but not as cold as before. She smiled when the girl tried to speak.

“Do not try to talk. You are safe here. Nothing will harm you.” Turning to Umeko she instructed her to fetch a bowl of warm broth. Umeko bowed and left the room.

Cradling the girls head in her lap, Mariko began to hum a traditional song. A song of love and healing. A song of peace and comfort. A song of life. A song that told of a great warrior returned from war, to find his family safe and still alive.

[Judas D'arc]

---

"This had better be good, Judas my pet," spoke the Lady Avella Isilian. "Why are we here?" The vampiress then looked to the bard and his companions -- the elf Faeryl, the mage Jolicia, the scoundrel Lucas, and the necromancer Nythrax -- as the small group stood in the area behind the Geisha House of Zento.

Judas nodded to the strange wolf that waited at the undead's side. If she was correct, this beast was yet another servant of the demons that they faced, tasked with stealing souls and feeding them to its hidden master. With its death, the portals that their enemies used to travel to Sosaria would supposedly close.

Avella stepped away from the creature. "Well?"

"Well," repeated the bard.

"Well," added Nythrax.

"A deep subject," she noted in return.

"Not really, though if it counts for anything at all," Judas stated as he armed his bow. "We do this in Celestia's name."

"Kal Vas Flam," chanted Jolicia.

The mage's spell joined her lover's arrows, and in moments, the wolf was dead. The bard glanced at the nearby Geisha House where their no-longer missing friend Alisiea was recuperating from her injuries. He hoped that destroying the beast in proximity to the pregnant Gyspy Girl would not thwart the prophecy which foretold
that her unborn daughter Celestia was supposed to accomplish the deed.

"This is why we can't have pets," joked Lucas.

"So it is done," observed Avella. "Our business is concluded."

"Not quite," corrected Jolicia, a reference to the one final matter. Earlier in the evening, a contract had been signed between the newly formed Emerald Trading Company and the dark-haired vampiress. The former had agreed to keep safe the investments of the latter while she rested for the next three centuries. The mage clearly intended to see Avella entered that deep vampire sleep known as torpor.

"This will close the portals?" Judas inquired as he looked up from examining the corpse of the fallen animal. "Or simply stop feeding it power?"

"I can only guess, Judas my pet," the undead answered. "But I believe it will stop them from coming over."

"Likely both," Lucas guessed. "Without power, they can't keep the portals open."

"But then," continued Avella. "Nothing in life is guaranteed. Is it?"

"Only death," quipped the former demon hunter.

The vampire nodded. "Yes ... only death. So ..."

"So ..." The bard echoed.

"So ..." Nythrax followed up.

"We go our separate ways. My destination is very far. The gypsies will come tomorrow to take me there. They will put me in Torpor andwatch over me as they have in the past. The agreement has been signed ... in blood in my case. I will honor it. You will see me no more."

"I truly hope so," Judas shrugged.

"Your life is your own again, Judas my pet," Avella said as she moved towards the bard, a wary Jolicia watching her closely.

"It always is," he smiled in retaliation.

"A final kiss for old times sake?"

"I ... think not," Judas countered. "Old times are best left ... old."

"Very well." There was a sadness apparent in Avella's voice, but it was difficult to discern whether it was sincere or a mockery. "Goodbye."

The Lady Avella Isilian then slipped back into the shadows, perhaps this time for good.

[Alisiea]

---

When the ship docked, Alisiea wasn’t sure exactly where she was, but once she disembarked, after paying a tidy sum for being caught as a stowaway, she saw the funny clothes people wore and knew she must be in Tokuno. She wasted no time finding a hairdresser and, despite the obvious language barrier, managed to get the woman to dye her hair dark. She figured she might blend in better. She wandered around the city of Zento for about a week, staying at run down inns or sleeping in the little parks. And she ate a lot of fish. She didn’t mind fish but when they tried to serve her raw fish … well, that was the end of the fish. It was on her eighth or ninth day in the city when trouble found her. She had just bought one of those funny hats, which she thought would help her blend in even more. She was walking back to the inn on the west side of the city when she noticed a man following her. She could tell because whenever she stopped to look at something; so did he. He didn’t look like a very nice man all, dressed in his funny clothes and carrying swords in his belt. She tried to give him the slip but he kept up with her. Finally she ducked down an alley between some houses and didn’t see him follow her. She was just about at the far end of the alley, when suddenly, three more men, dressed just like the first one appeared in front of her, blocking the way. They didn’t look very friendly either so she turned around and headed back the way she had come, then the first man appeared blocking her way back. Figuring they wanted to rob her she took out a pouch filled what little gold she had left and tossed it on the ground.

“That’s all I have left and you’re welcome to it,” she offered. But the men just kept walking towards her totally ignoring the gold. Caught in the middle, she figured she would have to fight her way out. She took a defensive stance as her hand slipped to the hilt of her spike. If she was going to go down, she was going to go down fighting. The fact she was obviously with child didn’t seem to faze the men one bit. They looked at her as if she had stolen everything they had ever owned and wanted it back, with interest. One of the men saw her hand slide to her weapon and chuckled. He said something to the others in that funny moon-language Nythrax always spoke of and they all laughed. One of them said something to her, what, she had no idea, and they started to draw their wicked looking swords.

“What do you want?” She asked. “I don’t have anything other than that gold there.”

The men said nothing but continued to advance on her. Then one of them spoke;

“Gaikokuno inuha. Modottedoko kara kit a iku.” He said, practically yelling at her.

“Huh?” Was all she got out before they set upon her, beating her with apparent enjoyment.

She didn’t remember much at all after that. Everything appeared foggy and distorted as she stumbled out of the alley. It was dark and she was so tired and couldn’t see very well. She found what she thought was a corner of a building and lay down.

At first there was only the dark like a suffocating blanket of nothingness. Then she saw people and things that seemed real, but might not have been. She heard things said that didn’t make sense. Some of the things she saw were beautiful but others were quite horrible. Once she felt as if she was falling from a great height. Another time she swore she was drowning. Now, she was being sung to by a young woman who was speaking the same moon-language she had been listening to for weeks. She blinked. Another dream? But it sounded so real and the woman’s hand on her face felt real. She tired to speak but her throat was too sore and dry. She moved her arm and it felt made of stone. She closed her eyes. Celestia was still there. She could feel her little heart beating. She coughed. The woman was trying to feed her something hot, like soup. The moon-language again. Then, as the ringing in her ears cleared she heard the woman say;

“Eat. This will help you get strength back. You must eat. Your baby needs you to eat.”

Ali ate. She ate everything the woman fed her. The warmth of it spread through her body like sunlight after a cold night. It eased the tightness in her throat and cleared her vision. Not at dream? A great weariness spread over her. Her muscles ached to the bone. Something was broken. Her leg? Her arm? She stirred and her body cried out for her not to, so she lay still.

“Where am I?” she heard herself ask. But it sounded strange. Like it was her voice, but spoken by someone else.

“You are safe.” The woman said. “Sleep now. We will talk more later.”

Ali closed her eyes and felt her body drift like a leaf fallen on still waters. Voices of moon-language echoed in her ears and a strong scent of flowers filled her mind.

Flowers?

Was it springtime already?

[Renthar]

---

The morning after, and Renthar was quietly seated in a dungeon north of Vesper, never quite having managed his way to sleep. The tall, strange-eyed mage was of course no prisoner, that honor belonged to the two unconscious captives that occupied the nearby cells. The first was the servant of the demon who relied too heavily upon seduction and disguises. The second was the man that they had rescued from the Keepers of the Seventh Death. Both were almost ready to become useful once more, all they needed was the smallest of incentives.

********

Last night, Renthar had led a party consisting of the shoe-less Aingeal, a do-gooder named Drasaas, the elf Faeryl, and the Red Sorcerer Minalan Zhalfast into the Wisp Dungeon of Ilshenar. Also in their company was the very same woman of many faces who was now imprisoned inside the dungeon. The strange-eyed mage's stated purpose was to visit the site of one of the moving portals used by his demonic foe, while the others were present simply because he wanted them to be. After passing through a complex magical maze and arriving at the location of the inactive portal, the group was greeted by Renthar's hidden ally, the necromancer Dominic Wolfwood. The two had met in Ashencrosse, when Wolfood was one of the beneficiaries of the ritual that had restored that small Malas town's vampires to mortality. However, merely human was not enough to satisfy the necromancer, and he had already taken some steps towards a new, more enlightened form.

Betrayal followed, as Renthar and his ally unleashed their spells upon the unsuspecting agent of the demon, and struck her down. The tall mage attempted to stifle the outrage of the others by revealing her true allegiance, and then he chained her and dragged her to the portal site. While they all watched with interest, Wolfwood performed a magical trick of his own. Manipulating the bond between the servant and her master, the necromancer was able to retrieve the power that the demon had leeched off of Renthar's restoration ritual months prior. Any unwanted mystical energy was then transferred into a summoned wolf, which they quickly destroyed. Throughout, the disguised temptress writhed in agony, but she survived the ordeal, and her own link to the demon was permanently severed.

When it was done, Aingeal, Drasaas and Faeryl seemed disgusted or outraged, and Red Minalan appeared dispassionate as always. The group soon dispersed, and the strange-eyed mage warned the others that their paths would not likely cross again. The exception to this potentially permanent parting was the Red Sorcerer -- there were matters still unfinished between them, and they would undoubtedly need to be addressed soon. And then Renthar and Wolfwood departed, the former demon servant still in their custody.

********

The next night, and Renthar was still inside that dungeon north of Vesper. No longer concerned with demons or would-be heroes or pregnant gypsies, he was simply content to watch and wait ...

... for Wolfwood's continued ascension ...

... for Red Minalan's magical ambitions ...

... and for the many amusements he might reap from the two unconscious prisoners ...

[Mariko Shimada]

---

Mariko tended to the girl and saw to it she finished the bowl of rich broth. The girl, however, was not yet out of danger. The wounds on her legs were deep as if cut by a tanto or a spike of some sort. And, as she brushed the girl’s hair back, she felt several hard lumps on her head. The bruises on her face and neck would fade and from her examination she felt none of the bones in the girl’s face was broken. The Ronin had beaten her savagely, but had been very careful not to harm the baby. Mariko found this strange. When Ronin gave their attention to beating a gaijin they usually did not hold much back. The great majority of gaijin who fell under the Ronin’s assaults usually died. Why, Mariko wondered, did they spare the child? This was a question best asked of the Ronin themselves, but that question, Mariko knew, would never be asked.

Then there was the question of the disturbance heard outside the Okiya yesterday evening. Mariko swore she heard a wolf howl then yelp as if injured. She knew there were thick forests several leagues to the north of the city and that sometimes, though not often, a wolf would wander into the western district looking for food, but that was growing rarer as the city expanded. This attack, however, was quite close to the house. Mariko shook her head and prayed that no more disturbances would interrupt the peacefulness of the Okiya. A guest of the Empress was due to arrive in a few days and everything must be in proper order. There was much to do and much to practice and the girl … Mariko glance down at the sleeping girl and wrinkled her brow. The girl would have to be moved to a smaller room in the far wing of the house. The main house must be cleaned and prepared should the Empress’s guest desire to stay beyond a single evening. To move the girl would require the help of the Witch who was still away. When she left she said she would return in a day or two. Mariko hoped it would be today. There was much to do.

She sent Umeko off to run several errands, instructing her to go straight there and back again and not dilly-dally about. With so many gaijin lurking around, not to mention the possibility of a wolf loose somewhere in the city she did not want another injured girl to care for. With Umeko gone, Mariko knelt next to the sleeping girl and studied her. It was clear the girl had many friends who were very concerned for her. So much so that one of them felt compelled to physically force his way in to see her. Why then, did the girl run away? Why did she obviously change her appearance in an effort not to be found? This begged more questions. Were they really her friends or did the girl possess some secret they needed to extract or protect? And why did the gods see fit to throw this girl into Mariko’s path? What did they want of her? These were mainlanders. Their problems were not Tokuno’s, so why now and why here?

Mariko pondered these unanswerable questions for several minutes. Finally she quit looking for answers that were not there and decided that when Umeko returned she would walk to the temple, make an offering to her ancestors and pray for some resolution to this dilemma. Leaning forward, Mariko smoothed the thin wool blanket covering the girl and whispered:

“Chiisanaichi kixyuukei shimasu. Anata ha koko deanzendesu.”

“Rest well little one. You are safe here.”

[Alisiea]

---

Umeko helped the girl called Alisiea into the large teakwood tub. Three weeks of sponge baths had not quite done the job; the girl reeked. Nonetheless she was recovering. The bruises on her face and body were fading and her swollen right eye was beginning to look normal. The deep cuts on her leg, however, still pained her, but her color had returned as well as her appetite, although she refused to eat raw fish, but seemed to like rice, roast duck and sweet cakes. Mariko had left strict orders that the girl was to have only one sweet cake a day and at least one portion of fruit otherwise she was free to eat what she pleased, provided, of course, it was available. Meat was not something the Tokunoese people ate very often although beef could be gotten for a price. Mariko, however, was not willing to pay that price since, with war still raging; prices of most goods were, like the sun, rising daily.

Umeko was growing somewhat fond of the girl. This was the first mainlander she had spent any length of time with and took this opportunity to study her closely. She was a fighter or at least her unborn child was. The healer had mentioned more than once how he thought the child had saved the mother and judging from her initial injuries, Umeko was inclined to agree. Although she understood little of what the girl said in her strange mainland tongue, she did understand her needs and Umeko was there to see they were met. For the most part Mariko ignored the girl and went about her business as usual. She treated her more like an unseen guest who made few demands and thus required little of her attention. She was quite content to let Umeko tend to her. Not that Mariko was unsympathetic to the girl’s condition but took the attitude that fate had placed her here and Mariko would do her best to fulfill her duty. If the gods wanted the girl here then the girl would stay and that was that. Besides, with the girl only months away from giving birth it made sense she remained in the care of women. Despite the healer’s skills and knowledge, he was still a man and men knew very little of the secrets of women. So it had been decided. Alisiea would stay for as long as she wished or as long as was necessary. After that only the gods knew what path she would take.

Umeko set about washing Alisiea’s hair which was long, dirty and tangled. Using scented oils and soaps and a wide tooth comb, she finally managed to get her hair to comb freely.

“Tabun anata no kamiwokatto suru hitsuyouga an masuka?” Umeko asked as she rinsed Ali’s hair with cool water.

The only reply she got was “Huh?” Umeko thought for a moment then tried again.

“We cut … hair? Maybe yes?”

Alisiea glanced at Umeko’s long, straight, ebony hair and smiled. “We cut hair … maybe no!” This reply was answered by a broad grin from Umeko and a respectful bow.

“Hai. Wakarimasu.”

The two girls lingered in the bath for a while longer then Umeko helped Ali out, sat her down on a wooden stool, rinsed her with cool water from a bucket and helped dry her. She then helped dress her in a clean kimono and returned her to her room. By then Ali was feeling weak and welcomed the soft bedclothes and warmth of the brass heater. With Alisiea safely in bed Umeko knelt quietly in the corner and read from a book of poetry. Alisiea watched her a few moments before asking.

“You can read?”

Umeko looked up and blinked.

“Read?” Ali repeated. Seeing that Umeko still did not understand, she pantomimed reading with her hands. After a few seconds Umeko got the idea and nodded enthusiastically. “Hai.” She answered. Ali nodded and settled back against the pillows. Celestia kicked. “Aye, I know,” she said quietly. “I had the chance to learn more than once, but it never seemed to work out.” She paused and glanced at Umeko then back to her belly. “I keep running away and I’m never sure why. It just seems like the right thing to do at the time.” Ali wasn’t sure if she was talking to Celestia or Umeko, not that it mattered. She had a lot on her mind and she needed to get it straight in her head if she was ever going to move forward. Smiling, she caressed her belly.

“I miss him you know. Your father that is. He was … kind. Not that everyone else has been mean to me, not at all. Everyone has always looked out for me and tried to help me. Judas, Jolicia. I wonder where I would be if I hadn’t met Judas? Dead most likely or still chained to a post in that filthy Orc fort. I never asked for anyone’s help. I was doing just fine on my own.” She paused and glanced at Umeko again. “Just fine.” But she was having trouble believing it. Those days seemed so far away now. Like another lifetime.

She ran her hands gently over her belly. “I need to do something smart. Something that will let everyone know I’m not a silly girl anymore. That I’ve changed. You know I’ve changed, don’t you.” Celestia kicked again and Ali laughed.

Umeko looked up from her book of poetry. The mainland girl was talking to herself again. She smiled when Ali looked her way. She had talked a lot before she woke up from her visit with death. Umeko understood nothing of what the girl had said but could tell she was working something out. Umeko watched Alisiea caressing her belly and wondered what would happen once the child was born. Where would the girl go? Would she return to the mainland with her friends? Alisiea noticed Umeko watching her. She smiled and invited her to lay her hand on her belly. Umeko slid across the floor on her knees and very gently laid her hand atop Ali’s belly. A few seconds passed and then Umeko felt a light ‘thump’ against her hand. Covering her mouth she giggled and smile brightly at Ali who grinned back.

The two girls were becoming fast friends.


**********


Rancid black smoke curled around a column of blue fire. A loud hissing of steam and poison gasses erupted from a fissure that split the earth like a ragged scar. The stench of rotting flesh, human excrement and bile choked the air. Winged daemons whirled and dipped with dizzying speed as they swarmed around a throne of human flesh and blood. The Great Lord of the Underworld sat brooding on his throne his face a mixture of hate, loathing and frustration. He lifted one arm still chained by the searing metal that held him prisoner in his own domain. The Daemoness known as Lamashtu lay prostrate before her master, her wings singed to smoldering stumps.

In a voice that would strip flesh from living bone her master spoke;

“You will find a way. A passage. A new portal. But you will find a way. Leave nothing out. Seek assistance wherever you may find it, but find a way or be condemned to the lower reaches of my realm to be rent limb from limb over and over again, for all eternity. Now, go!”

[Judas D'arc]

---

Judas told the others that it had been an uneventful week, but this had not been entirely true. He had neglected to mention that recent night when he had slipped away for a few hours ...

********

"You're sure you want this?" Shelley asked as they stood outside one of the small sandstone houses that made up the poor quarter of Nujel'm. For tonight, at least, she had shed the guise of "Evelyn Crowley, owner of the Emerald Trading Company," and reverted to the identity of the master rogue he had known for years. The two of them were not alone, nearby were the fat, bald merchant, Cubbins, and a tall, thick thug of a man who was neither recognizable nor had been introduced. "After everything?"

The bard shrugged noncommittally. "I despise loose ends."

"Git 'un wif it 'en," Cubbins interrupted in his typically blunt and unpleasant manner of speaking. "An 'our, 'e's gone."

Judas nodded, then slowly made his way inside of the small dwelling.

********

"You're here to kill me," he spoke in a panic, desperate blue eyes everywhere. Then in an instant, his demeanor shifted. "Please kill me?"

"I am not here to kill you, Garrott." The man before him was a pathetic sight indeed. He was bound to a chair by ropes, and the necklace crafted by Jolicia, Minalan, and Renthar, which prevented him from utilizing his body-swapping magicks, was still around his neck. However, in the weeks since the bard had last seen the demon worshiper, Shelley had somehow managed to return him to his true body -- sickly thin, with patches of red hair covering his skull, and thin lips incapable of anything but a mockery of a smile. "Nor speak of ... Claudia ... or any of it."

"Then what?"

"There were seven riddles," he explained. "You left them in the ashes of Jolicia's old house, and I wish to know their meaning ..."

Garrott remained silent as he consider for nearly a minute. "Very well, Judas. I'll tell you what you want to know, and in return, you -- "

"No."

"But I --" the body-swapping mage sputtered.

"No, Garrott," Judas shook his head. "No more bargains or games. You will answer me, and once we are done, you may ask me what you will. But I make no promises ..."

********

"The past is done. The future written. Today no longer cares."

This was a reference to the prophecy that foretold the coming of Celestia and either the victory or death of the demon, and the difficulty in interpreting these ancient words.

"When is the Samurai Empire not the Samurai Empire?"

This was a reference to the ancient Land of the Feudal Lords, the precursor to Tokuno, which was the first time and place that the demon had met defeat.

"A legacy falls to harrowing hands."

This was a reference to the only heir of Randall Reich, who fell to the dangers of Khaldun, and whose form was used by Khal Ankur to walk Sosaria.

"The right hand strikes while the left hand moves unnoticed."

This was a reference to two of the demon's servants, Khal Ankur and Garrott.

"Destiny died to dark-hair where Courage never fails."

This was a reference to the dark-haired vampire Dezera Blackwell, and her murder of the first Celestia in Serpent's Hold.

"He will have her."

This was a reference to the demon getting Alisiea's unborn child. Whether this still might come to pass was uncertain.

"Betrayal will come from the most expected."

This was a reference to Garrott's belief that by the end of it all, everyone would behave according to their true nature.

********

"What did you wish for me to do?" Judas asked, after they completed their discussion of the seven riddles.

"I want ..." Garrott stated, before his voice dropped to a whisper. "Please kill me ..."

"What?" The bard blinked in surprise.

The demon worshiper's eyes were filled with a clarity that Judas had rarely seen him capable of. "It's Shelley, and what she's planned for me -- "

But before the body-swapping mage could finish, she had entered the small home, flanked by both Cubbins and the third man. "We're ready, so it's time you finished up here."

"Very well," Judas nodded, watching as the fat merchant and the other individual dragged their prisoner outside. As they moved him, Garrott made no sounds or gestures of protest, and kept his gazed fixed to the ground. Once they were out of sight, Judas slowly turned to his employer. "What -- what exactly are your intentions for him?"

"Nothing you've need to concern yourself with." Shelley's lips parted into the shape of a small smile. "Nothing at all."