I bent over my work, listening to the boys talking. As the only girl in school, I didn't have the right to participate in their conversation. I often thought that it would be nice to have another girl to talk to, or for one of the boys to pay attention to me, not that I was interested in anything more than keeping myself occupied. When the teacher came in sight of the classroom, everyone who wasn't already in their seats scurried there and the talk stopped abruptly.

"Class, come to order," the small man commanded in his big voice. Everyone sat up straight at their desks and brought their schoolbooks and slates out. "You may have one hour before I call you up to recite." Then he sat down, staring at us students for awhile before relaxing. He always made it a point to unnerve us, but I had discovered that if I didn't look up, he couldn't intimidate me. Therefore I was always the best student.

"First spelling class, rise to the front." I was in the last class, the fifteenth class. I usually finished all my studying before Old Grimshaw began drilling and therefore had time to study the next day's assignment, and the next, and the next. I fully intended to have Old Grimshaw give me a test soon so I could graduate ten years before my time. The school went up to the fifteenth grade and then graduation. I had done approximately three grades each year, so everyone else was extremely jealous, and would do anything in their power to prevent my graduation from taking place so early. Nothing they had tried so far worked, and nothing they could try would work unless I died, was kidnapped, or was delirious. If I could move a pen, I would pass. Fortunately, they had not thought of any of those yet.

At recess, one of the other pupils hailed me. "Hey, Amy!"

"What?"

"What do you say to a dare?"

I looked at the older boy closely. I knew enough to be wary of any proposition, but my mind was an adventurous one, as well as easy to bribe. "What's in it for me?"

"We won't bother you any more, none of us and you can join our club."

"What kind of club?"

"A wilderness club. My father's leading it, for my friends, for free, and he'll teach us everything we need to know about living outside without help from anyone."

"Sounds fair." Jack's father was the leading wilderness expert in the area and he knew how to drill a team. Rich people paid good money to have Mr. Tyler train them or their children. Rich people paid good money for their sons to have any kind of schooling. I should know. My father paid outrageous fees for his daughter to have a fair education next to the boys of this foreign country. "What do I do?"

"You know the old castle on the cliff? Well, we're all going to climb that cliff, sometime around noon, so we get there at nightfall. And then we get to see what comes out of the castle. You game?"

I thought it over. I was perfectly willing to do it, indeed, I had done it before and knew an easy half-hour trail to the top. There likely would not be anything to see, and with them all riled up and ready to be scared, it would be relatively easy to frighten the lot of them half out of their wits with a intimidating costume, a little makeup, and some fairly good acting. "No. It's foolish to go playing around with the supernatural. Perhaps I'll see you off, but I won't be there when you come back."

Another boy yelled, "I told you she would be too scared!" That resolved me. They all deserved a good put down and to have them know I had scared them into panicking would be good enough.

"I'll see you off. When?"

"You don't need to come."

"What day? I might change my mind."

"Tomorrow."

"Come on, Jack!" called the other boy. "Don't waste time talking to girls!" I felt my face go hot.

"Coming!" he called. "If you change your mind," he said to me, "we'll have ropes for you." Then he dashed off.*~~~~~*~~~~~*That night, I crept stealthily up the path. The sun had not yet gone down and the boys were not yet up. I settled down, draping my long, black hair around me, like a cloak, blending the darkness of my hair into the darkness of the night. The walls were high and near the edge of the cliff, completely obscuring the castle.

Shortly after sunset, two visible figures came out of the gate. There were noises of other people all around me. I was more than aware of the stories about the castle, especially at that moment, so I slowed my breathing rate and heartbeat to almost nothing. I wouldn't be able to move, but my senses were sharp enough to be aware of any happenings.

The boys came over the edge slowly and stood uncertainly, waiting for something to happen. I could hear them whispering, but knew they could not see me or the figures in the dark. But they soon would, for the figures were heading towards them. I kept very still.

"Who are you?" one asked threateningly, throwing back his hood.

The boys stood gaping like seven codfish.

"Answer me!"

They burst into a babble of incoherent speech. The man waited it out patiently.

"You are trespassing and have so forfeited your lives." He scanned their ranks, pointing at the largest. "Come here!" The addressed immediately took a step backwards. When the man started to follow, the second figure put a restraining hand on his arm. He looked back. "Oh, yes. That." He looked back at the boys and shook his head. "I am in need of a girl, a young one. If you could provide one for me, by tomorrow night, I might see my way fit to letting you go free and alive. Providing you never come back. Is that understood?"

There were murmurs and nods of agreement.

"Then go!"

They all scurried for the cliff. I loitered until sunrise and was nearly late for school.*~~~~~*~~~~~*The seven ex-adventurers, now prey unless they could 'provide' me, stood in a nervous half circle around me. I crossed my arms and tapped my foot impatiently.

"What do you want?"

"Amy," Jack began. Tom elbowed him. "I mean, Amara."

'Well sure,' I thought, 'if you want me to be a sacrifice you had better get on my good side, first.'

"We were wondering if you might want another chance to get in the club." Indeed? How am I going to do that if I'm dead? "If you go up the cliff alone tonight, we'll let you."

"So why would that make you so nervous?" I asked. The tension grew. "I'll think about it. I'll tell you tomorrow."

"No! You have to go tonight!"

"I'm finishing the test today. The way you're acting, it seems you'd die if I didn't go." I turned my back on them and walked away, grinning diabolically. I'd gotten them pretty worked up.

After I finished the test I leaned back and closed my eyes, confident I had passed with a high score. Now I was free to review the facts and some of the stories, to decide whether or not it was worth it to save their lives.

According to most of the folk tales of the immediate area, the castle was the home of vampires. By most sources, a vampire is completely a night creature, unable to go out in the daytime without dying. They suck the blood from a human victim's neck over a period of days. When enough blood has been taken from the victim to die, the victim becomes a vampire in the power of the vampire who made him or her a vampire. A vampire has the power of hypnosis, which means that if one looks into a vampire's eyes, the vampire will have one in its complete power, the vampire will have taken over one's mind and consciousness. They were generally accepted as the living embodiment of evil in that area. A vampire would live forever unless killed violently. They could turn into any type of animal. A vampire's senses are unnaturally keen. They are very strong and very swift. And a vampire can pass through locked doors. A sharp stake of wood through the heart, especially one of wood from the rowan or oak trees, would kill a vampire, as would direct sunlight. Garlic and/or vervain will deprive a vampire of their powers and repel them from you. A cross was supposed to do the same thing, but I personally knew that each of the boys had possessed crosses that had been around their necks in plain sight on that night, and neither of the figures had stopped or seemed in any way distressed when they got close enough to see the articles of wood and metal. So that was what I knew. A bunch of myths, legends and stories that might or might not have any of various degrees of accuracy. And I wasn't exactly repelled by the idea of living forever, either. My only regrets were that I wouldn't find out what my test score was. And they had let me use actual paper! I weighed all the sides and decided on my verdict, which was exactly the opposite of what I told the boys.

"Of course not!"

"But . . . " Sam began.

I snorted in a most unladylike manner, but the combined looks on their faces was worth the undignified gesture. "I'm saving you all having a lot of teasing by having a girl in your club. You should thank me."

"Yes . . . of course," they said weakly and huddled off to a corner of the grounds, where they all threw up a bit. I glanced in some of their houses on the way home and riled them up some more. They were all going to have a very sleepless night.*~~~~~*~~~~~*I was scared myself, but not very much. I still had to make myself go up the path. If I changed my mind I could always become as still as I had last night. I had brought my books, a change of clothes and a knife, about all I owned in the world besides the ability to be almost dead but quite aware of my surroundings and to be quite alive and quite unaware of my surroundings although able to remember the events with astounding clarity.

The moon was bright and full, giving enough light to read by, if one had good eyes. I looked around nervously, waiting for a figure to appear. None came. I paced about a bit, then sat down under a tree. I had good eyes, so I began to read a Rumanian translation of the 'Iliad.' No reason to get bored waiting for death.

A fog crept up, blotting the light and bringing cold air in. I groped in the woods for some wood. Blindly, I stacked twigs and moss and struck a stone with my knife. It wouldn't catch fire. I struggled, then gave up. It seemed as though I would get bored and cold, waiting for death.

"Who are you?" demanded someone. I scrambled up, not realizing how anyone could have gotten this close without my seeing them. There was only one cloaked figure instead of the two of the night before.

As soon as I registered this, I croaked out, "Amara Rosig, sir."

He peered closer at me. I put my hand to my neck in alarm. "You're not Romanian, are you?" I blinked. That was the last thing I had expected.

"No, sir, German."

"Do you know English?"

I blinked again. I hadn't expected that at all. "No, sir." What did English have to do with death?

"It doesn't really matter. How old are you?"

"Ten."

"Can you get along with a girl of seventeen?"

What? "Sir?"

"My wife wants a handmaiden. Can you get along with a girl of seventeen?"

"It . . . depends."

"On what?"

"The . . . the personality a . . . and the intellect of the girl," I stammered uncertainly, trying to edge away.

"Very intelligent and impudent." I was supposed to answer, but couldn't. "Would you be able to get along with her? It would save your life."

Not knowing what to say, I spoke the first thing that came to mind. "I think death would be better than being teased all the time."

"I haven't the slightest idea how she spends her days. At night, she won't bother you. Just me."

"Days?"

"She heals too quickly to become a vampire."

That was a surprise. Now somewhat reassured, I had become a little bolder. I looked at the man suspiciously. "I think, sir, I may be older than you."

"You said yourself you are but ten."

"You are a very young vampire and must have been a very young human before you became a vampire. I am at least ten years ahead of my age group."

"Never been human," he said brusquely.

A memory flickered, of a time in a small, crowded, swift moving carriage, a time when my father had been complaining about losing his position at court, and my response to it. "That is improper grammar."

"Don't correct your betters like that!" That was very close to what my father's response had been.

I could feel a smile pulling at my lips. This vampire somehow reminded me very much of my father, a man determined to be acknowledged and recognized as a much harder personage than he actually was. I had always been fairly fond of him, even if I had not seen him very often. "For all I know, you may be below me in rank. My father was the Herzog of Hessen before he was over thrown."

"I'm the ruler of the supernatural."

"What do I care about that?"

"Follow me." He seized my arm. Suddenly he did not remind me of my father quite so much, and I screamed, for his hand was literally ice cold.*~~~~~*~~~~~*Where are you taking me?" I demanded, with as much dignity as I could muster while stumbling bent over at a half run in a dark and narrow corridor with one arm straight out in front of me. He didn't answer.

The man lit a lamp with one hand, knocked on a door, opened it, picked up the lamp, blew it out, set it back down on a table inside and entered the room. This strange procedure did not escape my eye.

"Cherry!" he called softly out. He opened another door. I twisted my arm in an effort to get free.

Suddenly, a spirited, vibrant voice said in surprise, "Baslon, let her go. She can't run anywhere, so what's the use of wrenching her arm off?" My wrist was dropped and I could stand up. I glanced at the lady who had ordered the man to let me go. The man made way for me to enter the sitting chamber. I did so, rubbing my arm to warm it and ease the pain.

The lady was tall and beautiful, dressed in a man's clothing, with gently curling red-gold hair spilling over her white shirt, and light violet eyes. She was well shaped, with a look of bland indifference on her face, and something else lurking in the background, something I couldn't quite identify. I drew myself up as tall as I could. I was rather short in height for my age, although there were high hopes in my family that I would grow. My hair was as black as the man's, but my eyes were a bright green, showing well the intelligence behind them, if I may be so vain as to claim it. I waited for a signal.

The lady registered everything about me before showing any of the feelings behind her face. With a laugh, she bowed and gestured me to a seat. "Take your place as my guest. It should be interesting to have a scholar in the house."

"I'll leave you now, my Lady. Hopefully my limited choice will not prove to be worthless," said the man. Opening the door, he left.

I watched the lady for awhile, as she moved around the room lighting lamps with a taper. Feeling sleepy, I wondered what time it was. When she moved towards me, I drew my breath in sharply and let it out slowly when she sat on a stool instead of forcing me to look into her eyes or some such horrible thing. Perhaps my fear showed for her lips twitched into a smile that showed pure happiness (which I thought wouldn't be possible in this place) and extreme mischief.

"As long as you are not going to scream, why don't you introduce yourself? The vampire's den is a frightful place, but do something you are used to and fear at least partially dissolves. My name is Cherry Amano Tudor. I am the daughter of the English Ambassador. If you were in Romania eight years ago, you might have heard of my, shall we say, disappearance?"

"N-no, my Lady. My family came only a year ago. There was an uprising and we had to leave Germany."

"And your name is . . . ?"

"Amara Rosig, my Lady."

"The Immortal Rose!" she laughed, the humor in it quite escaping me. "What a contradiction! But if you are the daughter of the Herzog of Hessen and I the daughter of an ambassador, then I should be calling you 'my Lady,' which I will not."

"I'm afraid I don't follow you."

"Don't try! Come, I think you would enjoy the library." The lady rose and I followed her, attempting to guard my neck with my hands.*~~~~~*~~~~~*Oh, my goodness!" I exclaimed in delight. The library was humongous, crammed full of books from ceiling to floor, and it was a tall room. The walls were lined with bookshelves, and more created aisles on the floor. There were more books than I had ever seen before in my life, and judging from her next words, the red haired woman apparently agreed with me.

"I thought you would like it. This library has more books than I've ever seen in one place. You have more books with you than anyone but a scholar would take on a journey."

"You have been observing me very carefully, my Lady."

"Quite the contrary. I have been doing my best not to observe you, which is very difficult with one of my background."

"An ambassadors daughter is observant?"

She laughed. "No, I meant my mother. I'll take you to meet her sometime after dawn. Baslon doesn't like my going outside of the gates."

"After dawn?" I asked in alarm. I had hoped I would have at least that time to myself.

"I am not a vampire, although from time to time I do wish I were." She grimaced suddenly. "Only on occasion, in certain circumstances. Especially when Baslon and I have a fight. Of course, it is more helpful to remain human, at least partially. People aren't as afraid of one when one can act like a human."

"Of course, my Lady," I said, relaxing a little. "But isn't it dangerous to be here?"

"Not when . . . ." She muttered something under her breath, then raised her voice. It had a hard snap and bite to it. For some reason she was annoyed. "I am perfectly safe here, and so are you, as long as you are with me."

"But, my Lady . . . ."

She sighed, relaxing her anger. "My name is Cherry, Amara. My name is Cherry and you may call me by that name."

"Yes . . . of course. It's a strange name."

"So I am told. Many people seem to think so. It is English for kirsche. You may call me that, if you wish."

"You know German?" She nodded. I looked around. "So many books!"

"I thought so too. I also know of two books in here written about me! Actually, they were manuscripts. The second person wrote one after he discovered the first one had. Unfortunately, they're both dead now."

"May God preserve and protect their souls," I murmured, crossing myself.

Kirsche looked at me strangely. "Only one was a Christian. The other religion you have probably never heard of."

"A vampire!"

"No, not a vampire. He was related to me distantly. His grandmother was my great-grandmother's sister."

"Neither of them were vampires?"

"No, the first one was a vampire for a period of time. They killed each other."

"You speak about this strangely."

Kirsche shrugged absently. "I didn't really excessively care for either of them, although I'm not quite sure that they felt the same way about me." She closed her eyes and sat down in a convenient chair, leaning back. Her sad, thoughtful look became faintly rueful. "I suppose I cared only about my pets, and death came so soon to most of them that I became numb to emotion. You get used to death after a while, so you ignore it. It's like someone, a close friend, moving away. Unfortunately, many people don't see it that way."

"I know, Kirsche," I said softly, thinking of my home land. "I know."*~~~~~*~~~~~*I had been born and raised in Hessen, Germany, a relatively small town in that part of Europe. My father was the Herzog, or duke, of that part of the country. It was more peaceful than the surrounding territories, because it was basically richer, but not so much richer that anyone tried to take away my father's title.

That day began peacefully enough, but it was so peaceful that I was bored enough to get into mischief and therefore, it was the peacefulness that made me leave my home and do what I knew I should not. I was climbing on the roofs of some houses, when one gave way under me and I fell on a young child, accidentally killing it.

The mother began screaming at me and the father shook his fist at me and they both dragged me to see my father and they demanded he give them full reimbursement, or else, that I be killed. My father was furious that they had dared to have laid hands on me and make such ridiculous demands over the death of a 'peasant child,' as he termed it and so he had them both publicly whipped and then ordered them both hanged.

The gallows was built by the end of the day.

There was a crowd there. Many peasants were trying to get to the gallows, for a better view, we assumed and the guards had a hard time keeping all of them back. When the accused came out in a cart, a riot started. The guards couldn't stop it, the castle was set on fire and burned to the ground and most of my brothers, along with my mother and two sisters, were killed. My two youngest brothers, my father and I, escaped. We went to Romania because my father had many trade connections there and was better able to start anew there than anywhere else. And now I was here.*~~~~~*~~~~~*Amara, if you will not tell me what is wrong, I'll torture you with an account of my life," Kirsche said in a teasing tone of voice.

I jumped and repeated why I had moved away from my home.

"That's terrible." Kirsche shook her head merrily so her hair flew wildly in all directions. It made it look as if her head was on fire. "Would you like to go outside?"

"Yes, if it wouldn't be too dangerous."

"I daresay the sun's up now."

My hand dropped to a book and began to automatically pull it out. The cover looked fairly new, as if it had been recently written. Kirsche glanced at the book and her face suddenly went so serious and so strained as to make me think she was repressing a smile. Then I jumped back as she looked away, for the book had disappeared. I glanced at the woman and bit my tongue to keep from bringing attention to it.

She laughed and shook her head again. "My Lady Amara, you mustn't be afraid to say anything around me. I can be trusted as far as you will trust me. If you don't trust me, I will prove very untrustworthy."

Since I didn't quite see how I could trust her so much on such a short acquaintance, and the acquaintance had been rather forced upon the both of us, I started feeling very uneasy about this young woman and what might happen to me.*~~~~~*~~~~~*One thing I can't figure out is why anyone from Calinesti would come up here," Kirsche said, looking over the edge of the cliff. I hung back. All that empty space under me made my stomach twist.

"A bunch of the boys dared each other to climb the cliff, and then none of them could back out," I told her.

"Boys less superstitious than the others?" she asked.

"Probably. This is a rather dangerous place to be."

"Personally, I think it's nice. My mother's tribe sometimes lives nearby. The only thing I don't like about it is that I can't leave."

"It would be rather easy to leave, wouldn't it? There's a path right there that I know of, and probably several ways to leave that I don't."

"You don't understand, Immortal Rose." I grimaced. "I don't want to live among humans, and no other race would help me if I ran away. They'd just send me right back, or kill me."

"What's wrong with humans?" I asked angrily.

"They're so idiotic, and one hasn't any room to work one's magic without . . . ." She suddenly cut off what I had begun to fear might have been her favorite subject. "I'm sorry. You're a human, aren't you? I shall have to try to temper my tongue."

"Oh, that's all right," I said absently. "Weren't you going to introduce me to your mother, Kirsche?" I reminded her.

"Of course. Mother's tribe is one of the places I can go. It's close enough that she doesn't worry, and I've never told Baslon. This way, if you please." She began to run off in a light loping motion. I quickly darted after her.

The forest was green and black, the ground thick with trees and a carpet of needles. I could hear some songbirds off in the distance, and once even an eagle over head. This land was thick with wildlife, so close to civilization. It made me stop and think just what other animals thought about human beings compared to vampires or whatever else Cherry claimed as her heritage.

"Can you climb a tree?" she whispered. I nodded. "Up this one, then. There are some passage ways we can walk on above the ground that start here." She darted up and stood waiting for me among the leaves. I clambered up behind her, and we resumed our walking. I had to step carefully because of the delicate-looking nature of the inter-woven branches.

"Hello, mother!"

The black haired woman perched high up in a tree humming to herself turned around in response to her daughter's exclamation.

"Cherry! What are you doing here so late?"

"Visiting. I brought someone to meet you. This is Amara. She supposed to be my new hand maiden. Amara, this is my mother, Vrenkley."

"How do you do, my dear."

I attempted a curtsy and almost lost my balance. "What does she mean by 'so late?'" I asked Cherry.

"She's half elven. Only humans are completely diurnal."

Vrenkley had a slight accent in the Romanian tongue that made me think she was not altogether comfortable with it. She gave me a penetrating look, then suggested to her daughter that she leave. Cherry disappeared into the trees to leave us to talk for a while. "Now, child, I know you are human, so I will try to explain myself when you need an explanation. Just now, I want you to tell me all about your life. I promise to make a good listener, and as soon as you are finished, I may have something to tell you."

I started out somewhat reticent, with dates, family lore, and a few basic facts I couldn't leave out if I were to be believed, but she was so good at asking the correct questions that I soon found myself telling her everything about my old lifestyles in Germany, Greece, Romania, and as much as I could about my new one. Nobleman's daughter, to orphaned refugee, to a simple freewoman, exiled but with a rich father willing to pamper his long-lost daughter.

"I see," she said at last. "Well, I will tell you anyway. A phantom, one who can see the future, once told me to tell this to a person I would meet. I told Cherry, but I'm not sure she took it right. Now she has gone out of her way to bring you to me, so I might as well tell you. It is this; 'A garden of herbs will surround the one dark tree, look for the stranger similar to your fears. Crashing cliffs and diving waves, ignore, be aware, all will come home.'

I sat and looked at her for a little while. "That . . . " I began.

"Makes no sense, I know. My daughter knows how to talk to phantoms, so she might understand it. She wouldn't tell me, though, but when I informed her, Cherry took it a bit too literally. Or perhaps not. She stole some of my hair, sprinkled it on some thyme and savory, threw it into the ocean and didn't leave the place for a week."

"Why?" I asked.

"I'm not sure, but when she came back, she gave me a note. My mother had died, and I had to come home. There was no way I could explain it to my husband - he was human - so I left without saying goodbye. Just disappeared. I had to leave Cherry behind, too. She was only three years old, not ready for the form of journey I proposed to take."

"I don't understand."

"Who would? I traveled by magic, and one has to be fairly mature to avoid serious damage to ones health in such situations, and then there was that trouble with the priests, and I couldn't find her. Poor Cherry's never forgiven me."

I fidgeted. This kind of sentiment made me uneasy.

When Cherry came back for me around noon, Vrenkley bade me fair luck. When I wished her good luck in return, she only laughed and made a cryptic reply about the gods. She had given me a lot to think about.*~~~~~*~~~~~*The room Kirsche had shown me, with a rather embarrassed expression, when I apologetically told her I was feeling rather tired, was connected to Kirsche's rooms. It had once been painted with scenes of a castle banquet, but most of the paint had worn away and all you could see were the outlines. It was furnished simply, but well for what I had gotten used to. There was a feather bed behind the door, with a dresser at the foot and only a little space between them. I folded my clothes into this, few as they were. There were also a blue and gray clay pitcher and wash basin, filled almost to the brim with water, on top of the dresser, along with a glass vase also filled with water, ready for flowers. There was a thin rug spread out carefully on the floor by the bed.

In the dresser were a few good dresses folded neatly, not plain and not elegant, but suitable for a traveling lady of moderate class.

Other than another door, the bedclothes on the bed and this, the room was completely empty. The other door led to a wash room and privy. It was dull when compared to my former life as the Herzog of Hessen's daughter, but not for the life as a peasant prodigy. For that it was elegant. I was satisfied with it, and that was all that mattered to me.

It was rather frightening at first, living in a castle with so many vampires, but as I never saw any but the first one and that one showed no intention of ever paying any attention to me, I gradually lost my fear. Kirsche, when she wasn't ignoring me too, was very kind to me, and I had no reason to feel uncomfortable in my new life.

About four weeks after I first came, something of great importance to this story happened, something that made me think that maybe I would do better to hang on to my less comfortable feelings a while longer.*~~~~~*~~~~~*Good evening, Cherry."

Kirsche glanced up and gave the vampire a searching look. I huddled in a corner with an apple and a book and only half paying attention to what was going on. "Is there any reason other than habit that you came here?"

"No, not particularly." He sat down. "I . . . I was wondering if . . . ." He stopped, looking at her.

"Yes?"

"Uh . . . ah . . . " he stammered, looking about nervously.

"For some reason I get the feeling that I will not like this question." There was a snap in her voice that made me look up, startled.

"Yes, I was thinking something of that sort," he said weakly.

"Then I won't promise not to get angry."

The vampire blinked and began fidgeting. "Well, I was wondering," he stopped abruptly. Kirsche continued looking at him. "I was wondering," he almost whispered, "when elves become mature enough to mate."

Kirsche immediately turned very red (although her skin was rather red to start with) and began studying her book as if she were one of the boys in Old Grimshaw's class.

"Cherry?"

"I'm not going to answer," she mumbled, half to herself, "because if I did, I'd do something crazy."

"You do that often . . . ." His voice trailed off as Kirsche glared at him. She started breathing faster. He reached out towards her.

"Don't touch me," she hissed. One hand was gripping the collar of her shirt closed, the other was on the end of one arm of the chair, and she was bent nearly double, looking just about ready to jump out of the chair.

"But . . . ."

"Be quiet," she snarled.

The vampire swallowed and I looked up, staring in amazement. A shudder went over the girl's flesh, a ripple of snowy white. She started enlarging and her skin turned a grayish color with stripes appearing amidst the gray while fur sprouted and darkened along it. A growl started in her throat as she kicked the chair away with one paw, for paw it was. She had turned into a ferocious bright red and black striped tiger.

The vampire took a deep intake of air. "Cherry, that's unnecessary. Please change back. I'll leave." His eyes were closed and his head was tilted back so the dim light from the oil lamp and wax torches made it look as if he actually had blood in his veins. The tiger stepped back and sat down on its haunches, looking at him as though she was daring him to leave.

He left. Quickly.

*~~~~~*~~~~~*

Destruction

I winced internally. Externally my eyes were closed and my face was probably white. I was this way because Kirsche was throwing a temper tantrum, which had begun the moment she had turned back from a tiger. I winced because I had just heard another crash, which meant that another piece of furniture was broken and there was another mark on the wall and it was that much closer to hitting me.

When the crashes stopped, I hesitantly took my arms away from my head, opened my eyes, and saw with some relief and also some regret that all of the furniture was broken. Kirsche was also sitting down with her back facing me and seemed to have calmed down somewhat.

"My Lady?" I asked tentatively.

She sighed without turning around. "Amara, please don't call me that."

I licked my lips nervously. "Yes, ma'am, but it is customary to show elders respect."

She cocked her head thoughtfully, and I resisted the urge to go around where I could see her facial expressions. She made me nervous and more so when I couldn't see her. "That is out of regard for their highly developed minds, is it not?"

"Yes, I suppose so."

She sighed heavily again. "My mind is, in some regards, not much better developed than a three year old's." I decided not to answer that. "Amara?" She didn't look at me.

"Yes?"

"Would you leave here if you could?"

"Yes!" I said vehemently.

"Good." She finally turned around and looked around at the mess, then at me. "Would you come with me if I left? It is easier to slip past in the world if you are two."

I hesitated. "I suppose I might."

"Why would you do that?"

"I guess because there is no one near where I live who will pay any attention to me and you do, even if," I stopped.

"Even if what? You mustn't be afraid to say anything around me," she repeated. "I can be trusted as far as you will trust me. If you don't trust me, I will prove very untrustworthy."

"Even if you unnerve me," I finished. "Why?"

Kirsche sighed yet again and turned her head towards the window so I only saw her in profile. Then I realized she wasn't sighing, she was repeatedly holding her breath, and the sighs were when she let the air out. "I'm leaving."

"How?"

"Just out of the door, over the gate and I'm, or we're, as the case may be, gone. I can't and I won't stay here any longer. You can come with me or not."

"I'll come," I said quickly. "With you," I added thickly when she looked at me.

"Thank you," she said softly. "Let's pack up. We should be far away before night."

"Yes, ma'am." I scampered off.

*~~~~~*~~~~~*

Leaving

I made a bag of a sheet and threw a couple of dresses and a quilt in it. Then I tied the corners together.

"Follow me," said Kirsche. The hallways were long and dark and she did not bother with much light. "You can ride a horse, can't you?" she asked when we got outside. The sun was barely over the horizon, turning the sky pink. "If not, we'll have some quick lessons."

"I can, but not well. Only pleasure horses."

"We'll take two, in case I get tired."

"What do you mean by that?" I asked uncertainly.

"I'm going to provide your mount, for a while. Then I'll need something to ride when I change back." I didn't question that. She led two black horses up, one much larger than the other, considered a moment, began to go in a tack room, changed her mind and there were suddenly saddle and bridle on the horses. I stepped up and examined them.

"I've never seen horses this well built," I remarked. "An Arabian and a . . . an Andalusian, isn't it?"

"Should I guess that you've had a great deal of experience with horses?"

"Yes. A great deal. I didn't ride much, but I know a great deal about them."

"Would you, say, be able to ride bare back?"

"Maybe, why?"

"I was never comfortable with saddles."

She shook her head, so her red curls tumbled down her back. She lifted one foot off the ground and arched her body forward, enlarging herself. In horse shape, she was a fairly solid vermilion, although somewhat darker than her normal shape's bright red hair. I stood up on tiptoe to peer into one of the purple eyes and whispered;

"Kirsche?"

She nickered softly, bending her forelegs in what I assumed was her form of a horse-bow. She was a large horse, a Royal Andalusian of Spain, the same type as the larger of the two ebony horses.

"Are you this beautiful in all your forms?"

She snorted and reared slightly, nodding and shaking her head at the same time. She tossed her head in a gesture towards her back.

"Well, then." I reached up and placed my hands on her withers, sent up a silent prayer to God and heaved myself up. She stood quietly and took a step forward, curving her head around so she could look over her shoulder. "I'm ready if you are," I said, twisting my hands into her mane. It was nearly as long as her hair had been when she was human, or whatever she called herself. She nodded, trotted a few steps, whinnied and broke into a swift canter. The two other horses followed us through the gate, which somehow managed to close behind us.

*~~~~~*~~~~~*

Elves

Can we . . . stop soon?" I gasped. Kirsche slowed to a trot, then a walk and bent down slightly. I slipped off. She changed back into human form.

"There's a village ahead, or so I recall. We'll see if they'll give us a place to rest for the night. It should be safe." She hummed a note. "Do you know what I'd give to see Baslon's face tonight?" she laughed.

"And then your face if he catches you."

"He won't, not for a while, anyway."

"You hope so. I've heard that vampires can track anything at any distance."

"Have you heard anything about elves?"

"Only that they are small creatures who . . . ."

"Elfin-witches, I mean?"

"No. I'm not sure I understand you."

"Eleven-witches are human-size. They are second among the supernatural only to the vampire. Unless you count the siren, of course. They seem to be more powerful, but no one knows for certain." She laughed and crooned a slight song that seemed to make me dizzy.

"What's a siren?"

She smiled mischievously. "A being apparently more powerful than a vampire. One aspect of their magic is about the same, but stronger." Her smile widened. "One of them is worth a squadron of vampires as long as you can keep them safe."

*~~~~~*~~~~~*

Unusual

The innkeeper, after a short haggling and a long series of questions concerning who we were and why two girls, one scarcely old enough to be let out of the house and one barely old enough to even be married, were travelling without an escort. Kirsche had evaded every single one of them and then demanded a room. The innkeeper grumbled a bit and reluctantly gave in, glancing at us over his shoulder.

In the room, he gave Kirsche a speculative look and started to open his mouth, but she casually drew a dagger from somewhere and glared at him.

"Yes?"

The innkeeper closed his mouth and left us alone, grumbling about how females should not be allowed the use of weapons. Kirsche snorted and seemed to almost be ready to throw the dagger at his retreating back before restraining herself. She curled up on the floor, producing a little ball of fur from nowhere. I peered closer, then gasped.

"What are those?" I asked in horror.

"Mice. They're very nice and very tame." She stroked the back of one to demonstrate.

"But . . . ."

"They're my pets," she interrupted. "Just ignore them if they frighten you. They won't bite."

"Right." I swallowed.

"Krantraran and Samaya are very pretty, aren't they?"

"Very." I barely slept at all that night.

*~~~~~*~~~~~*

Plans

In the morning, Kirsche woke me up with a deft shake. Her hair had been cut to just short of shoulder length, her breasts were bound flat, and her face looked as if it had been powdered with dust, or as if it was just a tan. Her hair was also somewhat darker, almost brown. She grinned at me and left the room. I felt like going back to sleep, but instead forced myself to get up and get dressed.

Downstairs, the inn keeper was grumbling, and Kirsche was sharpening one of her daggers absently while watching the entire room. None of the other patrons chose to complain. When she saw me, she grinned and waved, as if I couldn't pick her out instantly. She was the tallest person in the room, despite her coloring being hidden.

"I'm your father, now," she whispered to me as I sat down and took a leg of chicken for breaking my fast. "I'm escorting you to your marriage. Think anyone will challenge us?"

I glanced at her again. To all appearances, Kirsche was a young man who should not himself be let out, but could possibly be married. It was unlikely that such a young man would have a daughter as old as me, but that could be explained away. "I think it would do to avoid questions, but not as well as could be. But for the life of me, I can't think of a better."

Kirsche nodded to herself, seemingly pleased. "We'll leave now, then, and see how far we can go." She frowned and closed her eyes, thinking. "I was planning on going through Hungary and Austria to Germany, your home land. Would that be well enough?"

"I don't know," I said uncertainly. "I didn't leave under friendly conditions and I don't have any friends there."

"Somewhere else, then. Is there anywhere you would like to go?"

"I've always wanted to see Paris," I said meekly. Kirsche laughed.

"Paris it is, then. Do you know French? No? I'll teach you, then. And when we're there, I'll arrange for a house for the two of us, and we'll travel all over the world. Except Romania, of course." We both laughed.

*~~~~~*~~~~~*

Change

We approached the next town we were going to stay at somewhere around the middle of the afternoon. Kirsche was very fast and almost inexhaustible, but even she couldn't gallop five hundred miles on steep mountain road, some places with no roads, in eight straight hours during the hottest days of summer without at least a little sweat. As it was, her sides were heaving and I was hungry. She grinned at me as soon as she had changed back, mopping at her brow with the back of her hand and pushing her curly red hair out of her eyes.

"I guess we'd better stop here," she said with a breathless laugh. We both walked into the village, and this time Kirsche had no trouble getting us a room or a good meal to bring up to it. Once there, she instantly sat down with her back to the wall and got out her little pets again, leaving me to enjoy my food. When I offered her something to drink, feeling uneasy about the way she had gone for so long without food and even more uneasy about the mice, she grimaced. "I don't drink wine."

I drew back, remembering what vampires drank, then forcefully reminded myself that she could not possibly be a vampire and I didn't have any reason not to trust her. "You don't?"

Her hair swung and bobbed as she shook her head. "No. I get drunk too quickly. Anyway, I haven't had the opportunity to for some time. I'll take water." I must have looked uneasy, because Kirsche laughed. "I'm not a vampire, if that is what you are thinking. I'm only partly a vampire, and my dining habits are fairly normal." She paused. "I mean, the food I eat is fairly normal. I guess I'm a bit too used to not eating very often."

"You should eat now," I said. "You've used up a lot of energy and need to replenish it, and the water you lost from sweating."

"So advanced a scholar! I'd wager that if you were an elf, you would be planning to be a doctor eventually."

My head came up and I hastily swallowed my chicken. I could feel my eyes growing wide. "Could you repeat that?" I whispered hopefully.

"I said that I would wager if you were an elf you would probably also be a doctor later on."

"I could be a doctor?"

She put Krantraran and Samaya back in their bag and looked at me curiously. While she was cocking her head this way and that, I received a most uncomfortable feeling that my brain was being taken apart until I had no secrets left. Kirsche looked slightly distressed when she finally answered me, as though she had not found what she had been looking for. "Yes."

"A woman could be a doctor?"

Kirsche smiled at last with extreme relief. I had answered her own unspoken question in some way, so she elaborated on her explanation to my question. "In most of supernatural society, with the exception of humans, there is just about no difference between a male and a female. Anyone who wants to be a doctor can, unless there is something stronger to prevent it from happening. Accidents of birth are more who you are born to, what you may or may not inherit, than gender. Yes, you could be a doctor. If you found some ruler or another to swear allegiance to, he or she might adopt you into whatever that civilization is called. Then you could either find someone to apprentice yourself to or continue learning from books."

A doctor. I could actually be a doctor! Then I realized that Kirsche had adroitly led me away from my admonishments. "You still need to eat and drink something."

She shook her head ruefully. "I promise I will before tomorrow. Does that make you feel any better?" I shrugged uncertainly. "I also promise I will sleep some. Tell me, Amara, isn't it remarkable how one person with her mind made up can really get her own way?"

I smiled tentatively. "I suppose so. But you do need to take better care of yourself."

"You're quoting Baslon." Her face darkened briefly at the mention of the vampire, then passed on to other subjects. "Do you really want to be a doctor? Even if it meant giving up living among humans, and almost complete change of lifestyle?"

I nodded eagerly. "Yes. I did just about everything I might have to do there when I came to Romania, and again when I went up that cliff to save those silly boys. I'm getting used to extreme changes."

"Oh, yes. Them. I'm sorry about that. Baslon was just playing with them. It isn't very often that a vampire takes a conscious victim." Her hand went involuntarily to her throat. I swallowed, wondering how often she had lived through the process of having her blood taken from her body. When she turned her head I could see two dark scars, like moles, on the right side of her neck. "Not often at all."

I shoved my food away, suddenly not hungry at all. "I think I'll go to bed now. Remember to rest."

"Of course, young Immortal Rose." I frowned, wondering why she insisted upon translating my name. My first name was Greek, my surname German. The two of us spoke in Romanian most of the time. It was almost my own native language, now, and Kirsche seemed more familiar with it than with German.

*~~~~~*~~~~~*

Were

I do not believe I had fully appreciated just how fast Kirsche could go before then, but then, this was the first time she had not traveled as a horse. The other poor horses had been left far behind. I do not think it was ever her intention to keep them. As soon as I had my breakfast, we left the town by the northern road. Once we were out of sight of the village, Kirsche turned to me.

"Don't scream," she warned. I tensed and immediately felt my lungs straining to release the air in them at a high pitch. Swallowing the nervous urge to disobey her command, I nodded. She smiled at me kindly, but there was a hint of stubbornness in her face, as if she were afraid I would ask her not to follow through with whatever she was planning. I took a deep breath, turned around, and closed my eyes to wait for her to change her shape. After a moment I looked back and had to bite off another scream, because a tiger stood in front of me. My blood rushed to my head and for a moment I was on the verge of fainting.

Kirsche laid down and tried to look innocuous, which was hard for a tiger to do. She did not succeed. I tentatively approached her and got on her back. "You're not mortal, are you?" I whispered. At that moment, sitting on a large tiger's back, I felt very mortal and perishable. This feeling was probably connected with the stories I had heard about the enormous felines ripping off a man's head and devouring him whole. I shook myself and reminded myself that I had sat on her back several times before, and she had never shown any sign of hurting me, no matter how violent she might have been. If anything, the reminder of how violent she could be made me feel even sicker. Either Kirsche would have to start running soon, or I would panic and jump off her back. Just before I lost my nerve, she bunched up her muscles and bounded off.

At first I felt queasy, but when I stilled my unruly stomach it became an exhilarating feeling, almost as though I was flying. The horse rides, while quite fast, were definitely running. This was more of a series of leaps, not pertaining in the least to any of the laws of gravity. Going downhill may have been a reason for the increased speed, but to me it was more a sign of daring. Kirsche was daring God to take our lives, and no matter how blasphemous it may sound, I do not think God had the courage to take her up on it. At any rate, we reached a valley without mishap near the end of the day. Kirsche halted there, nearly tumbling me onto the ground, and changing back when I got off normally.

"Do you mind sleeping outside tonight?" she asked, grinning. I brushed my skirt off before replying. The silly girl had long since left the main road.

"No, I don't much mind."

"Good. See if you can start a fire. I'm going hunting." She flexed her fingers like talons, and I wondered just what type of animal she was planning on bringing back.

"I don't . . . ." I began, but she was already gone. I could not see her anywhere. I groaned with exasperation and began picking up wood. I managed to get it in a pyramid shape, then hadn't the faintest idea how to light it.

"Do you need some help?" asked a pleasant male voice behind me. I turned quickly, not sure of what to make of a person so far from civilization. "I just got up and couldn't help noticing there was another person around. Do you need some help?"

I looked at the man warily. He was a bit shorter than average, handsome, with dark brown hair and eyes, a short, bushy moustache but no beard. His clothes were grey and black wool, and he had two hunting knives tucked in his belt. He was standing between two pine trees and looking at me with concern, but the phrase that stuck in my mind was 'I just got up.' I began backing away.

The man continued looking at me, and his mouth quirked in a half smile. "Oh, you're not afraid of me, are you?"

"Who are you?" I whispered hoarsely, stepping cautiously around the fire ring.

"My name is Nierof." He ducked his head in a mock bow. "Since it can not possibly alarm you any more than you are already, I may as well inform you that I am a were."

I hesitated in my backward motion. "A were?"

"Not human, which you likely already guessed. I am a were, which is one of a type that can change their shape. We are called the limited shape shifters." Not a vampire, then. Of course, I did not know all that much about weres.

"Oh," I commented. "Then what are you doing talking to me?"

"You looked like you needed help with your fire, and you're young enough for most people to pass it off as mere fancy as long as I don't harm you, which I certainly have no intention of doing. You don't act very lost, which means you want to be here. Are you then running away from your home? You do not need to answer that. I can help you with your fire." He came forward so quickly that I didn't have time to move before he was bending over the stack of wood. A thin trail of smoke appeared, followed by a small flame. I couldn't see that he had done anything to produce that fire.

"What did you do?"

"Shedur. The translation would probably be . . . let me think . . . magic. I focus on the wood and draw heat from the surrounding area. Then I shove all the heat at one small spot in the wood. Does that explain it at all?"

I blinked at him, then sat down in the dirt, deciding he was not very dangerous at the moment. "I can't understand half of most of it." I paused to consider my grammar, then ignored it. "What are you doing here?" I asked instead.

He gnawed on one knuckle thoughtfully. "I suppose you could say I am seeking my fortune. I am hunting for the Queen of the Supernatural, who has disappeared. I have my mother's help. She is a very powerful magic worker among the weres. That's where I learned to create the fire," he added boastfully. "It's hard for other weres to do, but not for my mother, and she taught me as many spells as she could before now. She is the strongest queen of the weres and rules them all."

"Oh." I nodded, thinking. "Should I call you your Highness, then?"

"No. I'm not a prince just now. Right now I'm a hunter, and you should call me Nierof. Soon I'll find the Queen, and take her back to the king, and then the weres will become the third or fourth among the supernatural. Of course, that depends on whether or not the elves are willing to give up their status."

"So it's a matter of politics," I said.

"Yes, I suppose you could say that. You seem very intelligent for a human." I shrugged. I was getting used to being looked down upon for being a different species. Even Kirsche from time to time began telling me all the failings of the human race, although it was often mixed in with a series of comments on other races that might be considered less than flattering. I suppose that when humans gave up their immortality, as Kirsche told me they had, they became destined to live in ridicule from all other people of this world who were still immortal.

"What is your name, then?"

"Amara Rosig."

"What does it mean in your language? I have never heard any human words that sound like that."

I looked at him warily. I didn't think it was a common trait among supernatural to translate names. It seemed to belong to Kirsche alone. Still, I didn't know that I wanted to be called by my new nickname on a regular basis. "It means Immortal Rose." In order to keep him from registering that properly in his mind, I quickly led on to other subjects, grasping at the first thing that came to mind, which, for me, was education. "What other languages do you know? Besides Romanian and whatever your native language is?"

Neirof looked confused. "What is Romanian?"

"It's a human language," I explained. "What we're speaking now."

"The human language?" he asked.

I bit my lip. There was something decisive about the way he had said that. "How many languages do you know?"

"The Sirii, the elven, and the human. That is all there are. Aren't they?"

"No," I said slowly, trying to find a way to explain it. "The humans have more than one language. Actually, they have more than a hundred, but I only know four. What we are speaking now is called Romanian."

"Oh." He looked uncertain how to take this. The other races of the supernatural were decidedly more reclusive than I had taken them to be by my example of Kirsche.

"Why don't you stay here?" I invited cheerfully, distracting him again from my first miserable attempt. "My companion will be back shortly with something to eat."

"All right, I'll do that."

*~~~~~*~~~~~*

Recognition

When Cherry returned, Neirof's mouth dropped open. "Your Majesty!" he gasped, standing up and trying to give off some semblance of respectful deference while at the same time attempting to hide his undignified congratulatory expression of extreme good luck. I blinked and hit my forehead with exasperation at myself for not connecting his statement of a queen disappearing with Kirsche and I running away. Of course, that gave a lie to her incessant claim that I had a higher rank than she did. Now that I thought about it, I remembered her husband had said something about being King of the Supernatural, but it had somehow slipped my mind. That was unusual in itself. I generally remembered everything.

The moment Neirof spoke those two words, Cherry stopped dead, staring at the were in shock. After a long moment, during which both the were and I became increasingly uncomfortable, her jaw set itself in a stubborn line. "I don't care what you say, I am not returning with you."

Neirof's eyes opened wide in fear, and he hurried to try to change her mind. "Oh, but surely your Majesty doesn't still hold the weres responsible for one noble's actions! And surely your Majesty can't blame me!"

"Your brother caused me a great deal of trouble, Prince Neirof." He looked even more uncomfortable than before. I still hadn't gotten used to Kirsche's habit of picking things out of my mind and bringing them up in casual conversation. "Your only hope is that I do not find you nearly so intolerable. Otherwise, you might as well go home right now. That, or never return at all."

Neirof evidently knew a threat when he heard one. He alternately turned pale and then red, finally settling down into an expression of dejection. "I would never dream of copying my brother in his attempt, or my mother's first one. I only intended to bring you back to your home, but since you obviously have no intention of permitting me that honor, I can only offer my services until such a time as you may change your mind."

Kirsche scowled, wanting to find something wrong with this offer and unable to do so. After waiting as long as my young temper would permit, I said, "She accepts." Kirsche sat down, either accepting defeat or shoving all responsibility off on me. Neirof looked startled, probably that I should make such a decision for a queen, and I shrugged at him. "What can I say? I'm only a human." I spat the last phrase, still not quite accepting my lower status in the eyes of all I would probably soon be associating with. Then I remembered what Kirsche had told me about women able to be doctors, and sobered. If what it would take was constant ridicule, then I would accept it. Besides, most people seemed fairly willing to overlook my humanity or seem embarrassed about it, as if it were more a handicap than a sign of a primitive life form.

It took at most ten minutes, if not less, before Neirof figured out that he would be in much more trouble for being too respectful than for being disrespectful, but if he mentioned the vampire he would have to run for his life.

"Your Majesty's husband . . . " he had begun patronizingly, and got no further. Kirsche instantaneously changed into a large, dark red wolf and snapped at him. He looked very alarmed for a brief instant before, I think more in response to the startling stimulus than out of any planned action, he disappeared. Her teeth stopped just short of where his nose would have been, then she promptly turned back.

"I do have were's blood flowing through my veins," Kirsche told the ground. "That effects a much faster change than anyone of any other species could possibly manage. Please change back." Neirof reappeared, his eyes still wide. "But a wolf is not the only shape I have. I am not entirely a were."

"Of course," he got out in a strangled tone, then quickly cleared his throat. "You need demonstrate no further. I am completely convinced. With your permission I will accompany the two of you as far as you need to go."

"Good lad. I've promised Amara I would take her to France. That's Merider and a bit of Queno. You can come with us that far, and behave, or see how far you can get with a strong elven fire chasing you."

The color drained from his face.

"One more thing. We are going to pretend I never married Baslon. I am neither married, nor a queen, and I really would prefer you didn't give me any titles at all."

"Co, sa Winea."

Kirsche sighed wearily. "I suppose, if that's the best you can do."

*~~~~~*~~~~~*

Kirsche

It was a hotel far off the main road, and I knew the reason for that the moment we entered. We were greeted by a tiny, delicate looking creature with a piping voice, fair hair and gauzy wings. Although some creatures in the common room looked closer to it than others, I automatically knew that I was the only human in the entire place.

I don't know how, but Kirsche had somehow acquired both a hooded cloak to hide her coloring and the knowledge that I could, as she put it, "shut down my mind and still be functional." She advised me to put that ability to use just before we went in. I chose not to follow her instructions.

"You'll do the speaking," she had told Neirof, "and be careful what you say." She had displayed no threat, but the were still looked very nervous.

The bartering was conducted cheerfully, intensively and vigorously, though in a language I did not understand. The little creature who seemed to be the innkeeper stood on a ledge against the wall at eye level with Neirof. There were several of these ledges, so he could look straight at any creature. Some of the creatures had more or less hair than humans, or were different colors. Men and women wore the same kinds of clothing, different from what I was used to, mostly loose and easy to move in of forest colors, though a few were bright. Kirsche was still the tallest person in the room, but it was by a much greater distance. Little differences, but enough to remind me that I was no longer in what I would call a normal world. But then, what part of my old world was normal?

"There's a siren here," she commented quietly in my ear. I had read Greek mythology, but this was a bit too fast for me to readily assimilate.

"What?"

"They don't come on land too often. Must be a merchant . . . although, they can't tell when someone's reading their mind." Her voice held a bit of amusement, and I had no doubt she was planning on doing exactly that.

"Which one?"

"In the corner. White hair and wrinkled skin, means he's probably at least five thousand years old." I squeaked. That was before the birth of Christ. "And purple eyes. Like mine. Have you ever seen anyone else with purple eyes?"

"No. You're the first. What exactly is a siren?"

"You don't know?" she asked, shocked.

"Um . . . ." I hastily tried to remember bits and pieces of the legends. "They are like harpies, Greek and Roman bird-women, and they sing so alluringly that people cannot help but follow. There are the examples of Odysseus, Jason, etc., who had encounters with them in their ships, but according to Greek and Roman mythology, most people did not survive going past them." When I finished my little speech, I noticed that Kirsche was very quietly laughing at me. I got slightly huffy at this slight to my scholarship. "Well, that's what I know. What would you think, after you hid from assassins in a cave in Greece with an old couple who follow an even older religion?"

She stooped laughing and her hood dipped guiltily towards the floor. "Never mind. Sirens are pretty much shaped like a human. You're right about their voice, but most of them have no choice about it. They don't speak much around other species, but they're not being rude, they're being polite. Generally, they travel with another person, a translator, of sorts, but this one isn't, and that's illegal. He's a spy. I don't think I'll tell Baslon." She chortled.

"Well . . . tell me about some other species."

She nodded. "In our room," she added pointedly.

"Oh. Right." I had forgotten the need for anonymity.

In our room, I had to wait while she prowled about the dark place, sending a little ball of blue light to explore place she couldn't reach, continuously muttering about trap doors and hidden rooms. Then I had to assure her several times that I believed she could change shape (and how could I not?), and several more times that I trusted her, which was a bit more doubtful.

Then she sat down on the bed next to me and rattled off in quick succession; "The races are; amano, mith, sril, eowan, bartch, wilmayam, wilmayal, lath, ynwat, duzuman, unam, namuh, kol, shariota, airo, kyela, quiaila, durstheyel, seicep and kolano. Those are, in the same order as last time, the poltergeists, faeries, vampires, weres, nymphs, fresh and salt water sirens, elves, sprites, humans, leprechauns, gnomes, angels, wraiths, specters, imps, demons, goblins, devils, and phantoms."

I was staring at her in utter bewilderment. "I didn't understand a word you said."

She shrugged, rolled her eyes upwards as if appealing to heaven for patience, and started again, slower this time. "The races are; amano, mith, sril . . ."

"No! Never mind. Will I need to know any of this?"

She grinned crookedly. "If you plan to associate with species other than human for any great period of time. But you'll pick it up eventually, if you do. Remember, sirens are made for under the water, and their hands are webbed. Beware of the siren who speaks to you, because their song is impossible to resist. You are a human, so once you attain full growth, you'll probably be larger than most people you meet, but they will not like you for your blood. Sirens, phantoms, and humans are not part of the common government. That is why you must be accepted into a community somewhere for any protection you might need, or any chance to learn," she added, slightly maliciously, in order to further impress upon me the need.

"I'll remember," I started to say, but yawned in the middle of the word. Kirsche sighed, put her light out, and went to huddle in a corner, muttering unintelligibly to herself.

*~~~~~*~~~~~*

Neirof was at the door early the next morning, knocking hard before I opened it. He then breezed past me to bow to Kirsche. He first said it in that other language, received a sharp word to speak to all people present, and repeated himself. "Your Majesty, on my life, I swear it was not my doing."

She seemed to study the air above his head for a moment. "If you believe that, you're a fool. An angel did a prophecy on how to find me, and indicated you. You've been tracked, were, and if anyone thinks you are a traitor, you had better run to save your hide."

He drew himself up stiffly, though his face had gone pale. "I have done nothing."

She snorted. "You disobeyed a mandate of your king when the queen told you to. You know, or you should, which takes precedence if it should come to a question of that. Baslon will not be in a forgiving mood."

Closing his eyes, Neirof swayed as if he would like to faint, but managed to get out in a trembling voice, "He wants to see you. There is a room at the end of the hall he has appropriated for that purpose. The inn is probably surrounded. There is no real way you can avoid a confrontation."

"I can if I try." Weakly, he shook his head. "If it will make you feel better, I'll talk with Baslon . . . and probably leave him dead!" She stormed out of the room.

He waited a moment, shivering, then opened his eyes and looked at me. "Well, sa Winea, my Lady Amara, shall we go and see what follows after?" I looked up at him doubtfully, but took his arm when he offered it, and we both stepped gingerly as we approached.

We had waited several minutes before I realized she had not even knocked yet. "You had better knock for her," I whispered to my escort. He glanced down at me in surprise, then nodded and raised an arm. Kirsche scowled at him, but made no move to interfere.

At the first sound, the door was flung open, and the vampire king looked out wildly. "Cherry . . . ."

Her eyes were flinty. "Baslon, il feneta. I was informed you wanted to talk, nothing more. If I get the feeling there is anything more, I will leave."

"Of course, Cherry," he said hesitantly, then took hold of her wrist and drew her inside. She grabbed my arm, and Neirof still had hold of the other one, so we all entered the room. The two guards standing on either side of the door inside were dismissed at a gesture from the king. Neirof and I sat in chairs against the wall. The king sat at the table. Kirsche remained standing, but took the mice off her shoulder and placed them on the table, where they commence to run around.

He looked at her for a moment, then sighed. "Cherry, why . . . ?"

"You know the answer to that," she said curtly.

"How can I convince you to come back?"

"You can't. Is that all?"

The king jerked, almost instinctively reaching for her. "No! No. Cherry, don't go yet. I just have . . . too, too much . . . ." He rested his elbow on the table and leaned his head against his fist.

"If you have that much word awaiting your return, you should go home," she retorted without compassion.

The king's head immediately came up. "Not until I know you are coming with me."

"I hope you're prepared for a long sojourn," she laughed.

He smiled back at her. Kirsche immediately frowned. "I'm sorry, Cherry, but there is just too much going on for me to stay away so long as you are making it out to be. If you will not come back with me willingly, then I will just have to take you home without will."

She was over the table and at his neck with a knife before he could think to move to the side instead of backwards. "Baslon, don't think to threaten me so," she hissed malevolently.

He seized her arm. "And you threaten me instead? You disobey a direct order from your king? How dare you? Cherry, you are coming back, whether you like it or not. I should never have let you leave. And when you're back, I think a particular lesson is in order."

The knife flashed. I squeaked at the sight of blood, and Neirof held me tighter. The king jerked his hand back, grasping the wound with his other. Kirsche thudded the knife firmly down into the table. "I hope you die, vampire. If the only way it will happen is of broken heart, then so be it. I hate you. Leave me alone. Go away. Go back home, and do whatever it is that kings do, amuse yourself however you please, so long as it doesn't involve me. And die. I would very much like it if you would die."

He was on his feet in a moment. "Cherry, if you do not know what can be done to a traitor, there are ways to remind you. Watch." His hand darted out, seized the two small mammals, and squeezed. There were two loud squeals, then two loud pops, and then blood dripped from the king's hand. Kirsche's face went pale. Her eyes snapped red. She seized the lapels of her husband's jacket and slammed him against the wall, splintered the table, tore the door down, and disappeared from the hall. The king shouted something that sounded wicked and followed quickly.

I immediately appropriated a chair and sat down. Neirof assumed an attitude as of prayer, then looked down at me. "I don't think coming here was a good idea," I said.

"I do. There is no longer any danger right here, and they might go anywhere. Anywhere else in this wayside house is considerably more dangerous than right here."

I laughed a bit breathlessly, then asked, "Are there any special rules of court etiquette to follow when the king and queen of all supernatural have a cat fight?"

"A cat fight? I don't think so. I would be willing to wager quite a lot that if she could, the queen will kill him. The king can control her mind from a distance, though, so life will probably return to normal. It is very bad for the world with the king so obsessed. Many people have felt that, and it is certainly unfortunate that members of my family twice tried to do something about it and were twice thwarted." He looked momentarily pensive, tugging on one of his moustaches.

"So what happens to me? I'm her tire woman . . . sort of . . . and I can be held just as responsible and more culpable."

"I think you will become no more or less than a human in the eyes of anyone, and it is unlikely you will be punished. I think."

I was too well bred to fidget, but I surely wanted to. "What about you?"

"My family has a bad history. I believe my time may soon be over."

"Oh, dear."

Neirof shrugged philosophically. "It may not be the case. I only have a few years, and the king may not call me responsible for my actions. Then again, he may." He glanced at a window longingly. "It would not be honorable to try to escape." His tone indicated that honor was not as important to him as it might have been to another.

"I've lived for three years among honorless peasants, but I managed to keep my own form, which did not always agree with my father's. I could beat half the boys in the school yard, and was of more scholarly inclination than any of them, which was the only reason the college master did not send me away." I knew we were three stories up, so when I looked out, it was only to check what kind of landing there might be.

"However . . . ?" he prompted.

"Yes, however. We would probably not escape altogether, and the attempt would indicate our guilt. And, as you said, it is not honorable."

"You are a human, and have no loyalty to this government. You need not act with honor."

"I need a government, and I think that's Kirsche."

"Her Majesty?"

"I thought she told you not to call her that."

"Yes." He blushed. I smiled a bit at his discomfort and settled my cloak more securely about my shoulders.

*~~~~~*~~~~~*

Fifteen years and forward!" she snapped. I jumped. "Out! We have fifteen days to get to the Kol Maguumul. The Kol Maguumulen, the largest Dance of the Angels, the one at Ferris."

My mouth moved helplessly. Neirof was even more stunned, but he knew what Kirsche was talking about, even if I could not understand him when he spoke. "Kol Maguumulen? Ca ma fanom? Sa peuxil trol me Kol Maguumulen!"

Kirsche took him by the ear and gave his head a good shake. "What did I tell you about languages? Are you still following? I have to be there in fifteen days. Then I shall come back, preferably with a trained assassin, and have Baslon killed."

He just kept shaking his head in a panic, so I stepped in for him. "Kirsche, what are you talking about? Have you gone mad?"

She gave me a queer look, but relaxed somewhat under my firm tone. "Are you sure you don't understand Elven?"

I turned my face into as cold and haughty a look as ever my father had used. "Yes. May I ask why?"

She laughed. "Ask if you want. Who knows, I might even answer!" Her voice dropped to a fair mimic of Neirof's. "'The Great Dance of the Angels? Are you crazy? I can't go to the Great Dance of the Angels!' Silly were, go run off to your mouse hole. You don't have to come. You can always stay."

He lifted his head stiffly, summoning up all the dignity available to him at the time. "Your Majesty, I pledged my life to you back in the forest, and now if I do not continue in my service to you, I will die. I am coming. His Majesty made that very clear to me."

Her face turned cold, and reaching up a hand, she turned it to flame, reaching it out directly beneath his chin. Neirof's face turned pale, and he swayed back, but he refused to move a foot. She snorted at that action, shook her hand, and it returned to normal. "Just as well. I suppose I don't have to remind you not to spy?" He shook his head gratefully. "Then you're dismissed."

"Thank you, your . . . sa Winea." He retreated to just inside the door, having it a bit open but not actually leaving.

"What about you, Immortal Rose?"

"My name," I said loftily, "is Amara Rosig."

"Yes, that's what I always say. Well, Amara?"

"I," said I, "have no idea what you are talking about."

Kirsche's brow furrowed. "The Dance of the Angels, of course. Oh . . ." she started to laugh, "Oh, yes, you're human! I'm sorry. It's a, um, festival of sorts. Rather a cult thing. Outsiders are forbidden. If I wasn't the queen specifically of the angels, they wouldn't let me come, since I'm a cross-breed. How would you like to see it?"

I frowned at her, slightly, which she would take more notice of than if I had made it obvious. "As you just so succinctly pointed out, I am a human. If these angels dislike outsiders so much, would they not object to me even more?"

She shrugged. "If anyone sees you and complains, I'll just tell them you're my servant."

"Kirsche," I pointed out wryly, "I am your servant."

"Oh." Her furrowed brow said plainly that she did not understand. Then she brightened. "So I'll just turn you into an angel! Then no one will question your presence. Lots of angels from other places go the the Kol Maguumulen instead of their own home's Maguumul. You'll just be another. Perhaps I should grow some wings for the occasion?" She glanced over her shoulder awkwardly.

"Your Majesty may do whatever pleases you." She started to scowl. "How can you be otherwise when you are, as you say, queen 'specifically' of the angels?"

"Amara has a point, your . . ." Kirsche whirled on him. "Grace," he said blithely, changing his words without indicating that was what he had done.

"Are you trying to provoke me?" she snapped. "Go tell Baslon that he had better go into hiding, because when I next see him, he is going to have approximately five minutes to live, and I'll do my best to see he goes Ilmnere. Well? Go!" Her eyes were glowing redly now, and I backed up a fair distance before sitting down. All this magic was making me dizzy, but now I was starting to wish to know some magic. That would be an enormous help in this society.

Neirof ran out, although from what I had seen of the king, it would be safer not to relay that message. Kirsche glared at the closed door, then at me. "Perhaps you'll go Ilmnere."

"I will probably follow you wherever you go," I said simply. "I don't really have anywhere else that I care to be."

Kirsche stared at me incredulously. "What!"

I sighed. "Must I repeat myself?" She shook her head, glanced at me suspiciously, snorted in a very unladylike manner, felt her belt pouch where she kept her mice, and turned on the wall furiously. It must have been well built, to hold up under repeated blows from her fists, and she did not seem to notice when the skin broke and she began smearing blood all over. I watched her sadly, not quite daring to show my pity in case it might be taken wrong, and not quite daring to turn away, because a doctor could not be squeamish. I decided that the first thing I wanted to learn was something I knew was possible, at least with drugs if not with magic, to put a person to sleep. She needed that now more than anything else.

*~~~~~*~~~~~*

Complete and utter destruction," she muttered.

"Again?" I asked pointedly. Kirsche glared at me, then at Neirof, who had the temerity to make his laugh noticeable, then at the campfire, ignoring us both.

Neirof jumped up. "Do you like cony, Amara?"

I looked up at him, raising a haughty eyebrow. "You make free usage of my name."

He blinked, surprised, then bowed. "Il alan sa ejex, sa Winea."

"What does that mean?" I tried to copy his words.

"'I will not speak your name, my Lady.' Literally, 'No name I speak, my Lady.' Draw out the vowels a bit more and deepen them, but maintain a single sound. Be careful when maintaining an 'l' as different lengths can change the meaning of the word."

I smiled and stored that away in my memory, changing the subject. "Yes, I like rabbit."

"I'll see if I can catch one or two." He stepped off stealthily.

"Be careful that it's you who catches them, not the other way around," put in Kirsche nastily.

Neirof froze in mid-step, his back straightening and his fists clenching. He whirled around, face almost as red as that of the woman he was facing in his fury. "You have no right to say that to me. If you are going to insist you are not a queen, and you are not a princess, and you are not any of your other titles, then it must be that I have the authority to order you executed. I am the prince of one of the more powerful packs of weres, the heir, now that my older brother has been disinherited for foolish treason. You will obey me should I choose to command."

She tossed a handful of dirt in his face. While he was coughing and wiping the grit out of his eyes, she looked at me with narrowed eyes. "Amara, pay very close attention to what you are hearing."

"I don't need to," I said. "I don't like it."

She laughed harshly, then looked back at Neirof. "You are being even more unreasonable than me. Me, obey anyone? You can hardly expect that when I'm spending most of my time planning a way to get around Baslon's interdiction to assassinate him myself. 'Twouldn't be hard to do away with you here and now. Just don't go changing shape, and you'll likely get your rabbits. I'm going flying." She shrunk and twisted until her shape was that of a red raven, a bloody bird of war, and flew off. I stared a bit wildly. I was still not quite at ease with something the clergy had said was a thing of the devil. Of course, I was not at ease with the clergy, either, and they said the same of educated women. I looked at Neirof instead.

"Obscrond," he muttered.

I blinked and shook my head, becoming abruptly aware that there was something wrong inside my brain. Neirof added something else, but I could understand it no better than the first word he had used. I tried to open my mouth to ask him what it meant, but discovered that something about my tongue would not obey me when I told it to work in a certain way, and I wound up making a certain moaning sound as I became quite dizzy. Abruptly, everything fell back in place and I was perfectly all right, looking at Neirof still, who was now kneeling in front of me with his hands on my shoulders, staring at me worriedly. "I'm sorry," I apologized, meaning it. "What did you say?"

"I asked if you were all right," he responded, peering at my eyes, then pressing a hand against my forehead. I drew back from his familiar touch. "You don't seem sick, now."

"I'm not sick, and I'm fine right now, although I was a bit dizzy. What did you say before that?"

He looked a bit embarrassed. "I was swearing. I apologize if that offended you. Or . . . you are . . . What religion do you follow."

"I am a good Christian," I said proudly, although I wasn't, being and educated woman.

He was concentrating hard now, trying his best to get his words out so that they sounded reasonable and in line with my beliefs. He was undoubtedly planning to convert me later. I knew the way that would go, as I had gone through the same thing with the old Greek couple who had taken me in when I was separated from the rest of my surviving family. "You would probably say that it was taking the Lord's name in vain. Obscrond is the male Creator. There are two, you could say two sides of God, the male and the female. They created everything and had seven sons, who are the gods, and could be called angels, as they are not omnipotent. The angels I know, though, are just people, about as different from either of us as I am from you. The seven gods created Amano, the Goddess of emotions, and I do not know how she would fit into monotheistic mythology. Perhaps as the son of God."

"Don't bother trying to convert me," I advised him. "I've resisted it before, and I can do it again. There is nothing you can do to convince me of that."

His hands clenched into fists again. "At least I am being gentler about it than was that priest who got his hands on me a few decades ago. That priest who talked of brotherly love and whipped me when I would not recite from their book and tried to burn me the first time I turned into a mouse."

"A mouse?" I squeaked. "No, never mind. Were you very young at the time? I can understand how that would be very terrifying for a youngster."

Neirof looked embarrassed again. "Yes, a mouse. Unfortunately, when everyone else, all the other weres, are wolves or swans, falcons or great cats, or even foxes or pigeons, I got stuck being a mouse. Um, no, I had about three hundred years at the time."

"Three hundred years!" My equilibrium got completely lost, and I was glad that I was already sitting down, or that would have become the case very quickly, and possibly right in the camp fire.

He shrugged, a quick jerk of his shoulders. "Yes. My fourth centennial will be in the autumn of two years from now. And you?"

"I'm ten," I said weakly. "Maybe eleven by now; I was born in the autumn. You're not human, are you?"

His smile was exactly as weak as my voice. "Did it really take you that long to figure it out?"

"Well, no, but . . . it's not . . . I just . . . never mind."

His smile grew a little wider. "That's all right. Humans generally don't particularly like things they don't understand." He picked up my hands to show them to me. They were trembling. He began rubbing them gently to warm them and calm me. "You at least seem willing to try to deal with me. It's rather a humiliation for the son of a were queen, even a younger son, to only be able to turn into a mouse."

"I'm sorry," I muttered.

"It's never your fault, Amara. The gods', maybe, but no one else's. There was a time when the others teased me, but I've sufficient additional power that I am respected. The fire, for example." He waved one hand in the direction of the flames in the center of the makeshift camp. "It's not the sort weres are traditionally able to do. Maybe I should go fetch those rabbits." He jumped up and ran off. I stared after him in confusion. Why had he done that? I was just getting ready to ask him to teach me how to do something . . . like making a fire with a few words . . . or change my shape, although it was beginning to seem that different people had greatly different abilities.

"Sure, I'd like some cony," I muttered. But there were things I wanted more, such as the knowledge of how to do those things, or maybe why I was not firmly convinced that it was the workings of the devil. "Magic," I muttered. Or maybe it was "willpower"; I was suddenly confused. There was something very wrong inside my head. I adjusted my skirt over the roots of the tree I was sitting under and hopelessly brushed at the dirt on it.

Lonely, I stared at the fire. It was lively and it crackled over the dry brush, but it was almost all blue and green with flickers of orange and yellow at the top instead of being all red and orange and yellow with bits of blue and green at the bottom. A disturbing witch-fire, and now two non-humans who had been keeping me company had disappeared, leaving me vulnerable to attack from other sources. All I had was an unnatural fire for company, that and Neirof's belongings and mine.

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