Welcome to Gaia! ::

Teqatia Endruis had a headache. She always had a headache. Her problems were generally of the tedious nature, the kind that could not be easily resolved, and they gave her headaches.

Not for the first time in her life, she wondered why she had become a historian. History was full of tedium. Who did this, who killed what, when it all happened. It was enough to give the average person a headache. But the tedium of history was far more comfort than the tedium of interaction, and Qatia preferred tedium over larger problems.

She had once loved a man. She thought he loved her back. He was not an emotional man, but he had shared with her his secrets, had showed her things no one else knew. She had mistaken this for kindness and affection, and love.

He had only been manipulating her. He needed her expertise to help him find an artifact of immense power, and once he had it, he left her.

Teqatia was devastated. She went back to the life she had before she met him, her job at the university, but it was no comfort. She had never before loved a man the way she loved him. When he left she was dead. Her life brought her no joy. She merely went through the motions. She continued living like that for several years until one day she actually was dead.

She had thought it would end her pain and suffering, but instead she found herself in the Fleet, the strange pseudo-afterlife organization created to battle in some conflict she had little notion about. It involved gods and souls and concepts of reality. Teqatia did not care about any of that. She only cared about Him. In her heart of hearts, she still loved him more dearly than anything in her own life. A part of her still thought that he loved her. Die a thousand deaths and she would still believe it against her own reasoning. She knew he did not care. She simply could not accept it no matter how much she tried and willed herself to move forward.

The people in the Fleet were friendly, they tried to help her. She did not want their help. She appreciated the busy work they gave her, compiling histories from various universes, but it was merely temporary distraction. The difficulty of human interaction added some more distraction, and gave her the headaches.

It did remind her why she had become a historian. Quiet, frigid (according to some), she had written very long, detailed, technical papers in her youth that lacked the spirit and spark required for great science but pleased her history teachers. Since history meant plenty of time spent studying and reading old texts, she pursued it. She hated wasting time with people, most of whom did not care much for her icy demeanor.

That was why she had loved Him so. He had matched her in brevity and reticence at first, and then coaxed her out of her shell with his secrets. He was the strong sentinel she wished herself to be: unmovable, intractable, incapable of feeling pain. Yet in the end he had only served as reminder of how weak she was because in the end he hurt her more badly than anyone else ever had, even her parents, against whom she had erected her first walls, and he himself emerged unscathed.

How she envied him. How she wished he loved her somewhere deep down inside. How she wanted to retch at her own weakness, to beat her head against the wall, to strangle herself for this stupidity.

Instead she immersed herself in the tasks the Fleet gave her, resigned to an eternity of quiet suffering and pain, walling herself away from others.

But the Fleet was even worse than the university when it came to people. While she had been able to avoid most other students and faculty in her previous job, her colleagues in the Fleet made it a point to seek her out.

She could not wholly fault them. The Fleet was based on an extended family (she researched its history) and most of its members cared for one another, even complete strangers. They checked up on one another, esepecially new arrivals like her.

Teqatia was technically assigned to Operations, but took up residence and offices in the University of Magic, perhaps because she still had some affinity with the university feel. Useless sentimentality she told herself, and it only made her feel even stupider and weaker. The main Archives were good enough, there was no reason for her to wander through the University's Infinite Library with its printed books, but she did.

The source of many of her headaches was Percival Prowley, one of two Assistant Directors. Right from the start he was attentive, showing her to her rooms and around the campus, introducing her to key people, but most of all checking up on her more than he did most of the mages.

Percival was not himself a mage, far from it. He had no magical ability whatsoever and did not want any. He assisted the University in a purely administrative capacity, trying (in vain) to keep the University running smoothly and orderly. It was an impossible task because the mages who made up the bulk of the University were renowned through many dimensions for their chaos and disorganization. Whole areas of the University were known to go up in smoke, and new areas were appearing all the time. Mages conducted experiments without regard for practicality or safety, and most were completely socially inept. Qatia herself was socially inept in her own way, but she could communicate after a fashion. A stilted, emotionally-constipated fashion. It was still five times as effective as anything the chaotic mages could manage.

Much of Percival's work involved running around dodging errant spells and making sure everyone was still well-fed and alive. At least, those were the excuses he always used when he came to check up on Qatia.

He was not a bad sort, really. Qatia had come to like him. He was a bit of a tightass, very rules and regulations, but also quite chatty. He would come and sit next to her in the Library and talk to her, not caring if she talked back. Probably he liked the fact that she worked no magic, like he did, and had no intention of trying to learn any. They were one of the very, very few nonmagic people in the complex. Teqatia was not afraid she might fall in love with him, either. She strongly suspected he was utterly gay. Single, but gay. Certainly he had never made his intentions the least bit amorous. She also suspected he was in love with someone who did not return it, so was attracted to her own sad, stilted lover undertones.

Then the Fleet had been dissolved. Teqatia lost her University and was given a new home in the Neighborhood.

She had no complaints about the house. It was big and spacious with high, rustic ceilings and dark wood floors and beams and doors. It had an aged, weathered look about it, and it looked out on the beach, which Teqatia loved and hated at the same time because the beach was where she had last seen Him. There were rooms full of books and the stupid, touristy decorations Teqatia favored: paintings of sailboats and seashell collages. It was, in fact, her dream house, the place she had always wanted to live, down to the last detail. Large and quiet and peaceful.

Only her dream house was a part of the Neighborhood. To go out her back door, there was beach and sand for miles, totally deserted. Go out the front door and there was a sandy yard with a weathered picket fence immediately adjacent to the suburbs. A totally different dimension. Hundreds of houses and people, each as strange and unique as Teqatia and her own house.

How this worked, Teqatia did not know, and frankly she thought the answers would only disappoint her. She only knew that, at any time, any one of the people she had met in the Fleet might come walking up to her front door.

Not all of them she minded. Minnarkentanit Trant was a good visitor to have, one she actually looked forward to. Trant reminded her of Him, only different. Warmer, more humorous. She could see herself falling in love with Trant, but for all the wrong reasons. If she did it would be because of the things that reminded her of Him: Trant's stoicism, his control. But Trant was already very much taken. Generously, he had invited her to join him and his "mate" but she declined. Nothing would compare to what she had shared with Him. The sex had been the most electrifying of her life and she was honestly a little scared to try it again, believing it would never compare and afraid she would only be burned again. She'd had sex since He left her, but only in the most mechanical sense.

Trant was very respectful of her privacy, her need for solitude. He only stopped by on occasion, and always at the right time, and always with something she had not realized she wanted until it was there: a bottle of wine, a fishing pole. They fished on the beach for hours. He was also good at talking, the way He had been, the way that made Teqatia feel like for once someone understood her. There were never any headaches when Trant visited, or even for hours afterward.

She wondered if Trant might come today because she had quite a headache. Earlier this morning, Percival Prowley had come knocking, and she let him in as she always did and accepted his tribute of scones and hot coffee and let him sit and talk. Towards the end of it he had said, "Oh, and..."

Those two words were always the sign of trouble. The issue someone leaves for last because they want it to seem like it's something inconsequential, only it's actually the most important part of the conversation and the reason for their coming. Percival's "oh, and" turned out to be a scroll.

It seemed natural that he bring it to her, she was a historian and an expert on old scrolls, which this definitely was. To hear Percival tell it, it was something one of the many mages had found and it had gotten passed around a lot and no one knew where it came from, so would she mind taking a look and getting back to him when she knew what it was? Teqatia agreed, or at least she nodded numbly, which Percival took as enthusiastic endorsement.

Now she found herself with a scroll, ridiculously aged, and not even a clue as to its home dimension, only she was pretty sure it was not the dimension she was from. Teqatia rubbed at her temples and blinked tiredly as she studied the scroll. It had a picture of a rat on it, for reasons she could not yet fathom.

It was merely another distraction.

When Percival turned up, Teqatia had very harsh words for him indeed. She gave them to him at the front door. "You must tell me which of the mages gave this to you, and which dimension they found it in, because going through infinity attempting to find the source is not how I intend to spend the rest of my life." Qatia ended this small speech by crossing her arms and glaring down her thin nose. It had the intended effect. Sheepishly, Percival held up the little box of Starbucks coffee and scones. Teqatia stepped aside and let him in, but she was not about to let him get away without an explanation.

They took a seat in the living room and Teqatia thought Percival's admission of guilt must be heavy indeed for him not to have said it at the door. He passed her the recycled paper cup with its cardboard sleeve and said, "In fact, the scroll comes from Gaia."

Teqatia had heard of Gaia, but only vaguely and only because it was the source of some of the Fleet's darker gossip. It was a place where the High Empress had gone and which had upset her so that she retreated all the way back into her own soul. Teqatia did not know how one entered one's own soul, but the Empress, Lord Mage, and Dark Lady were all gods of some sort so she simply accepted that for them it was possible.

With that sort of a rumor, it was easy to see why most of the Neighborhood's denizens did not care for the place. If you had access to all of infinity, would you go somewhere that caused your spiritual leader hurt and pain? Apparently, for some erstwhile mage, that answer was yes.

Suspicious, Qatia asked, "Did you find it?"

Percival shook his head too vehemently to be lying, his face crinkling with distaste. As the rumor went, not only was Gaia a terrible place, it was also crowded and filthy. Percival would sooner slice his own stomach open than brave a place such as that. "It was one of the mages, El-something-or-other." Try as he might Percival never had been able to get all the mages' names straight at the University. There were hundreds, and some of them could not even remember their own names. Teqatia could not wholly blame Percival, but at the same time, learning such things had been Percival's job. He was probably glad to be rid of the whole thing.

On that thought, Teqatia asked, "How is Reginald?" Reginald was Percival's dimensional alter, and though they looked different, the two were so similar in personality and mannerisms it was frightening. The only major difference was that Reginald was a full-blown mage, albeit one of the responsible and conscientious ones.

Percival recognized a polite question when he heard one. "Very well, and Molly, too." Molly was Reginald's wife, and occasionally Teqatia wondered if maybe Percival was in love with Reginald, but she knew her friend was not so narcissicistic as to be in love with someone who was essentially himself in all the important ways. Also, Reginald was so protective of Percival that if Percival loved him, the totally heterosexual mage woudl probably leave his wife for Percival's happiness. Maybe not. But it was an interesting thought to Qatia.

Formalities aside, Teqatia returned to the subject of the scroll. "You must tell me everything you know about it, and about Gaia."

Percival could only shrug. "I doubt I know more than you." That was a lie, Percival kept up with the gossip and always knew more than Teqatis on that front. "A mage found the scroll and somehow passed it off to me, and I thought if anyone could find out more about it, it would be you."

"But you did not even tell me it was from Gaia," Teqatia pointed out, sipping at her coffee. Strong, black, and one of the little things Earth had in common with her own homeworld. (But her world's coffee was better.)

Percival shrugged. "I was wondering if it might have any markers that would identify it as Gaian."

Teqatia narrowed her eyes. "That does not sound like you."

"All right," whined Percival, rolling his eyes, "it was Reginald and the Mage Council. They wanted to see if Gaian artifacts had any specific sorts of markers and I suggested they look to you for a nonmagical perspective."

Teqatia was on the one hand flattered by his opinion of her skills, and on the other annoyed. "But without having anything from Gaia to compare it to, I cannot tell," she pointed out.

"Oh," said Percival, looking very guilty and apologetic.

"I will have to go to Gaia and look for artifacts of a similar nature," said Teqatia. She was already getting a headache just thinking about it.

"Oh. Well," Percival said, a bright suggestion, "you should take someone with you. I hear it's not safe to travel to Gaia alone."

Teqatia fumed silently. "Is there anything else you have heard that you would like to tell me?"

"Only that Her Imperial Highness has been going back to Gaia again, and you can reach it from the Bridge, and a couple of people in the Fleet-- sorry, the Neighborhood-- have some experience with the place, particularly in Security."

That was a great deal, and Teqatia was somewhat grateful to have Percival as her friend. At the same time, she knew she could not ask him to accompany her. She was simply not that cruel, even if she blamed Percival for this whole mess.

"All right then," Teqatia concluded, continuing with her coffee.


Later, when Percival was gone, Teqatia looked at her options. Percival was out. She somehow could not see Trant going with her. He would if she asked, but she hardly wanted to share what she suspected would be a miserable experience with him. Sylvia was getting married. In Teqatia's mind, that scratched her off, because the idea of love upset Teqatia on some very basic levels. (Simple jealousy. It would wear off in a few weeks.)

No, for this trip, Teqatia needed someone as miserable as she was, and in the Neighborhood that could only mean one person. She decided to venture away from her house and see him tomorrow.

Dr. Smith sat in his office, typing away at something on his computer. The man paused, chewing at the pen in his mouth and reading what he'd just typed. A move of the mouse and some more typing and then the man was content. For the moment at least. He sighed, leaning back in his chair and taking in the silence of his office. A silence which was quickly interrupted by the ringing of his phone.

The man glared at the offending object, taking the pen out of his mouth and setting it down as he leaned his chair forward once more and picked up the reciever.

"Hello? .... Yes, yes, send them on back. ..... It doesn't matter if they have an appointment or not. ..... You know what. I'll just come up there and-" Dr. Smith glared at the now dead phone. "Stupid lady... hanging up on me...." The historian muttered and picked up the phone.


A few moments and a phone call later, Dr. Smith was headed towards the front desk. Lights shone on his balding head and reflacted through the thick lenses of his glasses. Glaring at the Professor, why was she on desk duty anyway, the man smiled at the guest(s).

It was a smile only one of the guests returned. The other, a slender woman with a frigid gaze, wore a serious frown more suited to the smelling of certain foul cheeses. Every inch of her taut frame was as rigid as the stiffest steel. Her tidy schoolmarm outfit was only sheeps clothing to hide her predation. The only sign she was human lay in the fuzzy outline of her hair, ashen blonde with heavy brown tips. She carried a black poster tube under her arm.

Her male companion (who returned the smile ever so politely) seemed to be everything she was not. His uniform was cut with military precision but it could not hide his soft edges, the gentle sag of his world-weary shoulders, the lines of hope etched into the corners of his mouth and around his grey eyes. He was a civilian-soldier and she a soldier-civilian.

They were completely different, but wholly the same, like two sides of a coin.

It was the woman who spoke first, her voice as cold as the rest of her. "Are you Dr. Smith?" It was obvious given the context of the situation, but this was not a woman in the habit of carelessness.

The old man smiled wider as his previous smile was returned. "Yes, m'am I am," he replied. He gestured towards a door way marked Musaeum. Probably be better to meet Nara and her partner halfway than to simply be running all over the place.

"Ah, Professor Aziza wasn't exactly clear on nature of your problem...Ms...?" He trailed off, realizing just now that he had no clue who the couple in front of him was. Ah well, better late then never!

"Endruis," she said, pronouncing it like a touch of wind against glass. "Teqatia Endruis." She left off any association, no longer knowing if she belonged to any academic organizations given all the recent changes in her life.

Her companion scraped his shoe across the floor in reminder and she indicated him with her hand. "And this is Commodore Niela."

Niela tucked his head in greeting. "Sir."

Apparently, Teqatia was not in the habit of waiting for pleasantries. She launched straight into the purpose of their visit. "I have come into possession of a scroll which I have been told falls into your area of expertise."

Dr. Smith shivered. Okay. Creepy lady... "Er... Ms. Endruis, Commodore Niela," he was probably butchering the names,"it's a pleasure to meet you!" They moved slowly down the hallway.

"Yes, yes. I specialize in ancient Earth scrolls but..." Dr. Smith nervously took off his glasses and polished them. "Well, I'm better at their history than authentication. That's my... assistants specialty!" Putting the glasses back on he beamed at the two pleased with his half-lie. Reaching the large wooden door at the end of the hallway he smiled again at the couple.

"Right through here...My assistant and her partner will be meeting us.."

Teqatia was filled with nervous excitement, the sort of rush one felt on the verge of making a big discovery, when the pieces of the puzzle all come together and the picture is finally revealed. Her shoulders trembled with the feeling as she followed Dr. Smith down the hall. She cast a quick glance at Niela. He smiled in soft reassurance and might have squeezed her shoulder had they not been in public. It was a good thing he had come along. Teqatia stood ready on the threshold with Niela right behind her.

The round room held two other people waiting near a statue. A quiet grinding noise echoed through the room as if a door had been slowly shutting, although the only doors were opposite the pair.

"Ms. Endruis," he shuffled quickly to the pair. "This is my assistant Nara-" a smotherd laugh from the cloaked man got a jab from his partner, "and her partner."

Nara smiled politely at the woman. "It's a pleasure to meet you." A dark eyebrow quirked at Dr. Smith. Coughing the short old man continued.

"Ah, they are here about a scroll they found. If you could examine it and determine if it's authentic? If you could bring out the scroll m'am?" A sudden realization nearly bowled the man over. If it was a real scroll then that would mean that he'd finally see what happened when a scroll was unsealed. The old man began to practically dance about.

Careful to keep her emotions in check, Teqatia took the black case from under her arm and removed the cap. Out came the scroll, rolled gently and protected by two sheets of plastic. It unfurled perfectly flat onto the table as if by magic.

Teqatia placed her hands on either side of the scroll. "I am told is has a an Earth-related origin. This is not my expertise, so I would be interested in anything you can tell me," she said earnestly, eyes looking to the three of them. She seemed not to care that the partner had not introduced himself, but the level gaze from Niela said the oversight was not missed. Niela seemed just slightly on edge in response.

Mr. Mysterious simply stood there quietly, as if he weren't aware of anything outside his bubble. However, the hood tilted somewhat in the scroll's direction.

A hissed intake of breath interrupted the silence. "That's... If you could take it out of the protection. It has strong possibilities but I'd like to be sure," came the quiet voice of Nara. It was tense and full of something. Something itchy and green. The relic reacted precisely as she had in all the other unsealingings, by digging her fingers into her palms.

Teqatia eyed Mysterious strangely, wondering exactly what kind of professionals these were. Sure, she had handled the scroll barehanded, but only in private, and she had put it under protective plasynth at the first moment possible. To handle it so brazenly in public could spell ruin for her reputation.

Teqatia turned her head towards Niela and said softly, "Lan. Your gloves?" He arched his eyebrows in surprise, but understood her reason, and removed the gloves for her. They were big and soft on her hands. The air-filled tips collapsed against the protective covering as she sought the correct corner and pressed it, releasing the bond between the matched sheets. She was meticulous as she carefully laid the scroll down on the table, still protected by a single protective sheet on the bottom.

Now that the top sheet was gone, the scroll curled into a semblence of its original rolled shape and shivered in the air. It seemed expectant.

The two shuffled around for a moment. Nara glanced over at her partner and the woman. Careful not to touch the scroll, though a few tendrils of green mist managed to escape towards the scroll. Finally, Mr. Mysterious and Nara managed to complete the equilateral triangle between them and Teqatia. It was still startling to behold the sudden dissolving of Nara's hand into the brilliant green mist. It spread from her, wrapping around Teqatia and Mr. Mysterious in a strange glowing triangle.

There was a gasp. Not Teqatia, Niela. The uniformed man took a shuffling half-step back in shock, completely unsettled by the strange green mist. He went instantly for a holstered weapon he did not have. Teqatia sharply brought up her hand to stop him.

Something had come over Teqatia. Her eyes were wide with almost reckless anticipation. This was something familiar. Not anything from the twelve realms in which she specialized, but something of a similar bent. These sorts of things she understood. It was the whole reason her love had picked her, because no one in all the land knew more about ancient demonology.

Then she seemed to realize the ramifications of the connection and she let out a little cry of alarm, enough to rouse Niela back to action, had he only enough time to act.

Niela wasn't given that time. No sooner had the mist completely covered them then the a loud thud echoed into the room. Suddenly the mist dissapeared, leaving Nara stumbling backwards. Rubbing her hands the woman gasped for breath, her breathing uneaven and ragged.

Sitting on the scroll was a sleepy toddler. With a big yawn he looked around at the people.

"Est vars," Teqatia began as Niela's arms protectively closed around her from behind. She realized she had switched out of Common and corrected herself. "The Hell??"

The relic caught her breath for a moment, smiling wryly through her hair. "It's real..."

Dr. Smith coughed. "Ah, this is a special scroll dating.. well, really old. Certain children have been sealed in the scrolls but with the destruction of the old library the scrolls were scattered. Nara has.. the ability to unseal these scrolls and that's really the only way to authenticate it."

He shifted uncomfortably. "Ah... Since the scroll is yours... It's up to you to decide what to do with the child.."

"You people," said Teqatia through gritted teeth.

Niela's arms were still around her, his breath whispered past her ear. "Qatia..."

Teqatia threw off Niela's protection and pointed her finger accusingly at first Nara, and then Dr. Smith. "This is the most unscientific operation I have ever laid eyes upon! What hell kind of racket are you trying to run here?" Her voice rose with each word until it was an angry screech.

For a moment, it seemed the boy on the table might hiccup. Then his nose wrinkled and his mouth opened in response to the shouting and he let out a wail of plaintive desperation, shaming Teqatia for upsetting him.

Dr. Smith puffed up, much like a blowfish. Redfaced he started to return the woman's tirade when a gloved hand set it's self on his shoulder. Turning to look at Mr. Mysterious the man huffed and crossed his arms. Finally Nara's breathing calmed down. The more she did this the less the time needed to recover seemed.

"Unscientific?" she snorted, "It's not science. It's religion." The scroll relic frowned as she gripped the edge of the table. "These kids have been stuck in that piece of parchment for who know's how long. I have to let them out. It's...very uncomfortable.." Eyes blinked in memory for a moment. "Like Dr. Smith said, you have a decision to make right now. You can take him home and care for him, and deal with us poking our noses in every now and then to make sure he's allright. Or he can stay here at the Musaeum with us."

For a moment, it seemed Teqatia might do just that. The child sat there screaming, begging the adults for some display of affection, totally out of place among the unkind conversation. Teqatia burned with some sort of fierce determination. It looked like burning hate for everyone and everything that had happened here. A revulsion towards this whole affair. A distinct intention to Get Out and fast, while the window of opportunity lay open.

But there were many things that were not known about Teqatia, and chief among them was the way the child's yowling pulled at her heartstrings, wrenching her innards in two, and the incredible sadness that welled up inside her ironlike exterior. Summoning up her indignation, Teqatia's voice burned with accusation: "And would leave any child with you!"

In two moments she had him, scooping up the child in her arms with such speed it seemed instinctual, and the scroll underneath him as well, wrinkling it but not caring. The child quieted immediately in her arms. "Lan--"

She did not even have to ask once, for Niela had already swept aside the door for her. Teqatia stormed through it, her fury like lightning bolts, ready to strike any who dared oppose her actions, ready to burn anyone who ever thought of it. She was out through the door in mere seconds, Niela obediently behind her, shielding her in the event there were repercussions for her actions.

Nara shrugged as the woman left, although a small part of her was almost thankful for the woman's anger. So many other people who had picked up the scrolls just nodded and smiled as if it had been normal that... there was the tiny doubt that everything was just a setup.

Before the doors closed though she called out, "Grab a business card before you go!" Not that she couldn't track the child now that he was unsealed but.. it would make it a little easier than hunting back and forth to narrow things down. The three turned to go back to work. Perhaps they would send them a letter explaining things a little better later.

The next day she would have gone out to buy Sebastian some proper baby supplies except Sylvia Declair came knocking. Was it still even Sylvia Declair? Maybe she had gotten married already and changed her name to Sylvia Depriest, the name of her lover, and Teqatia seethed and did not answer the door. For nearly forty-five minutes Sylvia continued knocking and Teqatia sat in a rocking chair and held Sebastian to keep him quiet. Without a doubt Sylvia knew about everything -- Landor was probably Sylvia's best friend, even though he could have been so much more if only he had chased after her. He would have told Sylvia and that was why Sylvia was knocking.

Eventually, Sylvia gave up. She circled the house at least three times and even called out on the beach out back but Teqatia was careful to avoid all the windows. About half an hour after Sylvia left it struck her: she was a prisoner in her own house. Who was the fool now? She pressed her fist against her forehead in private admonition before going about the tasks that needed completing.

For diapers, she cut up some soft sheets, and for food she found fruit in her fridge and mashed it beyond recognition. (She imagined in the bowl the faces of all who had hurt her.) It would have been better to have some formula, but Sebastian seemed to eat it well enough. She thinned down some fruit juice with water and cut a slit in a rubber cap for a bottle. It tasted a little rubbery despite her washing, but it did the trick.

It took her a few hours to finish all this work, and when it was done she took Sebastian and they sat out on the sandy white beach and listened to the ocean until the sun set. When she put Sebastian to bed she was proud of her resourcefulness, but also resentful, because thanks to this whole debacle, she felt for the moment friendless.

In the rest of the Neighborhood, it was winter, in spirit if not in season. Like every house, Teqatia's was weather-controlled, meaning that her tropical paradise was ideal no matter what day of the year it was. She noticed with some chagrin during one of her brief trips to the front yard that her neighbor on the left had decided to have a wintry blizzard. Their house even had sparkly strings of colored lighting, that staple of Earth's Christmas, a holiday for which her homeworld had no equivalent.

Well, no, they probably did, just not in central Orsity. There were so many fringe religions in the many lands there was no telling what celebrations were observed where. None meant anything to her unless they coincided with some great point in history, for example, the date of the Golaidan War coinciding with a major religious holiday for the opposing Davens. Needless to say, the Davens had been mostly obliterated, and religion was dangerous. Orsity contained many religions, but none were so dominant that they would bring the multicultural city to its knees for any length of time. It was a city in constant motion, always moving, always thriving, always open for business no matter what business you were in or looking for.

And here, total peace and quiet. Sometimes she missed the hustle and bustle. Mostly she loved the pristine ocean. Nowhere within five hunded clareks of Orsity woudl you find this kind of beauty. It was all smog and pollution, dead swamp and fetid rivers. A city of Orsity's size generated waste on a massive scale. It was such a massive effort to deal with it, it was simply shipped beyond the city's borders and dumped there for the beggar castes to sift through.

Simply put, Orsity had no beaches or ocean, and there was nothing in Teqatia's mind that would compare with the freshness of the sea air and the vibrant bounty of the ocean.

She sat on the shore with Sebastian while her neighbor withstood his (or her) blizzard, the saltwater lapping at their ankles, warm and inviting. Let the Earthlings have their holidays, she had her ocean.

Being the holiday season, she was several times visited by Sylvia and Percival, but resolutely she ignored them both. She thought that once she might have been visited by Landor. Someone had left a gift on her doorstep of chocolates and she took them because she liked chocolates and nothing more.

She got a wedding invivation and tore it up without reading and cast the scraps into the ocean to be eaten by whales.

She almost, almost let in Percival, but then a reflection upon his involvement in her recent embarassment dissuaded her, and she hushed Sebastian in her lap and did not answer. He left soon after. Let him worry. She wanted nothing to do with any of them. She just wanted it to be her and Sebastian.

And then, the one visitor who would not take no for an answer or be dissuaded, the one person to whome privacy meant nothing, becuase his people had no concept of it.

He did not even bother knocking on the front door. Apparently, Sylvia or Percival had informed him of the futility. If Sylvia and Percival had not insisted upon that measure of trespassers' politeness they would probably have found Teqatia by now. Thank goodness they were so habitually polite as to announce they were coming.

Not so Trant. He bypassed the front door, went to the back, and entered straight through the sliding glass, which was unlocked because she and Sebastian had just come inside and in the Neighborhood there was no need for security. Teqatia was so surprised by his arrival she screamed and set Sebastian crying, and Trant, in his jovially alien way, just stood there smiling in amusement and waiting for the two of them to stop.

"Min'n!" gasped Teqatia, calling him by his familiar nickname. She retrieved and hugged the wailing Sebastian, who, in all fairness, had not been truly exposed to any strangers aside from his first day of life.

Trant was, as usual, bearing a gift in the form of a bottle of wine. "I apologize for not coming sooner. I was unavoidably detained." He lifted the cane in his other hand as explanation, and Teqatia was momentarily stunned speechless, which did a lot of good towards calming Sebastian. In all the time she had known Min'n she had never seen him claim to even be bothered by injury. He was a Calym, a greyskinned species notorious for their tolerance of pain. Reputedly his kind could proceed clearheaded after the abrupt severing of a limb. Twice Teqatia had observed Trant to be very badly wounded (in the course of his relationship with the Supreme Commander, no less) and show not even the tiniest glimmer of pain. For some form of injury to detain him was unthinkable. It simply did not make sense. Yet here he stood with a cane.

It could only be that someone (or something, for it seemed beyond even the Supreme Commander) had broken his legs to such degree that he could not physically walk, and for some reason that injury persisted to some degree. She could even see some traces of unusual splotches on his face she took to be the Calym equivalent of bruises.

Trant seemed unsurprised by Teqatia's continued silence, but gently annoyed. "Am I to understand that you are not taking visitors?"

Teqatia tried to distract herself from the shock of Trant's cane. "Uh!" she managed, "I'm not... Um, I mean, it's not that."

"You, my dear, have never been at such a loss for words," observed Trant smoothly. "Perhaps I have truly surprised you. I do apologize."

Frustrated, Teqatia brushed her hair back from her forehead and shuffled Sebastian in her arms. How completely unfair of Trant to point out her momentary weakness, but she needed it to help her get back on track. "I'm not taking certain visitors," she clarified fiercely.

"Ah, good," said Trant, and put the wine bottle down on the table. "Is that a visitor?"

Sebastian, reduced to little whimpers, buried his head in Teqatia's shoulder. It was hard to get over the fact your loving guardian had been screaming. "No, this is Sebastian," she said, almost adding "my son," but the words sounded too weird to her still.

"Sebastian," repeated Trant, clear amusement. It was simply his way. He found everything and everyone amusing. He was used to viewing society as an outsider. He called it, with some Greek pun, "the Human Comedy." In it, he played the Chorus.

Teqatia unhooked Sebastian's hands from her shirt. "Say hello to Min'n," she instructed, but Sebastian said only "Kacha," his version of her name. (Tedious repetition did pay off.)

"There's no need to force it," said Trant amiably. "Come, I have not gone fishing without you, and you seem to have some cloud on your mind." Nodding, Teqatia agreed. There would be time for the wine later. With such a small child, she was not willing to drink it, and Trant was understanding.

As they made their way out to the little rocky cliff area where existed the best fishing, Trant kept his distance. He was extremely knowledgeable about children despite having none of his own and knew when to give a child time to grow accustomed to a stranger, especially one as strange as himself, and especially a child that had not been properly socialized. (He inwardly chastised Teqatia for that folly.) Trant was grey-skinned and grey-haired, the color of mottled stone, and covered in black tattoos from head to toe. The majority of these tattoos were hidden beneath the long monochrome coats and wants he favored, but the display on his face was one of intricate ceremonial artistry. His ears and nose boasted several piercings, but invariable it was not his markings of his piercings that grabbed a person's attention, but his eyes. A striking bright yellow, they unsettled even the most galactically-traveled people, and many even claimed his eyes glowed. (True, but only faintly, with a shortlived phosphorescence that was gone nearly before you noticed it was actually there.)

Teqatia had long since learned to look past the eyes to the artwork of Trant's tattooing, but for Sebastian, watching Trant over Teqatia's shoulder, it was still the eyes. He was luckily reassured by the fact Teqatia was now wholly calmed, and this stranger seemed quite friendly. Always smiling, moving deliberately, not doing anything to alarm Sebastian. Gradually, in the fifteen minute walk to the fishing spot, he grew accustomed and even intrigued by the stranger. Only then did Trant approach, slowly, and take the fishing pole from Teqatia and sitting a few meters away where Sebastian could continue to observe him.

The fishing spot was a ledge overhanging a little lagoon carved out by the water. Protected by the natural rock barrier, it was quieter than the surrounding ocean, and many fish remained there until the lowest tides. It was high tide right now, and the water was within a few feet of Teqatia's dangling toes. She kept a firm grip on Sebastian. Thankfully he was happy to sit in her lap and wrap his hands around the base of the pole as if he too were fishing.

When Trant removed his shoes, Teqatia had to bite back a gasp. She had seen his feet dozens of times before, but it was clear she had been correct in her assessment. Something had wounded him so badly he could not walk to see her. The one person she had needed to come and get her. If she found out who or what had done this to him (it seemed beyond even the Supreme Commander) she would seethe bitterly, that being the extent of her powers of revenge.

They fished in quiet a bit, until Sebastian started to make noises which indicated it was now fine for Trant to talk. His voice was smooth and calming as ever: a low, mesmerizing tone. She could fall asleep to it, and had on occasion, only to wake up tucked into her own bed. For all that he was an alien, Trant was well-attuned to the needs of humans.

"No, don't pull on that," Teqatia said to Sebastian, who was trying to pull at the fishing string. She was worried that if he became tangled and she hooked a fish, the string might tighten painfully around his little fingers. The last thing she needed was to be raising a little amputee.

"Are you going to tell me what's been bothering you?" said Trank point-blankly. The ability to transit from one sentiment to another, totally unrelated, was an ability Trant shared with Teqatia. If anything, it made her feel Trant understood her even better.

So she told him everything, from the beginning, or at least the point where they had last left off. She spared no detail. Trant listened, pausing in his rapt attention only to reel in fish. It took a while for Teqatia to realize she was not catching any: one had taken her bait clean off. No matter, Trant had caught a good half a dozen edible ones, so the technical fishing part of the excursion was over.

"It seems to me you are already well aware of the nature of this situation, and what needs be done about it," said Trant in conclusion. "I will therefore not repeat the things which you already know. As usual, the barrier here is simply between your knowing and your acting."

Teqatia frowned, conceding the point. He was entirely right, and she had known he would say just that, but it was what she needed to be hearing. Trant had come and fixed her imagined problems as he always did.

They headed back, and Trant respectfully did not press the wine upon her and bade a modest farewell, shaking the hand of the now-curious Sebastian. On Sebastian's account he only noted, "See to it this fellow gets some playmates, for he's a good ways past your age range, and your tastes in amusement." Teqatia blanched slightly, as she hated it when Trant put it that way, but the alien only smiled all the broader for his jibe. "If you need a playmate, you still may call on me. Perhaps when the little one has friends of his own to distract him enough." When Teqatia turned purple Trant roared with amusement and headed off, his work done for the day.

As she closed the door behind him, Teqatia looked at Sebastian, who was balanced on her hip in the position she found most comfortable. "Would you like that? Playmates?"

"Kacha!" he exclaimed, and reached up to grab her shirt. Teqatia had to bite back laughter. No, dear one, that most certainly is for a different playmate!

I said I'd be back IN JANUARY. stressed


It came in a burst of knocking that bordered on terror and Teqatia did not want to open the door until Percival identified himself. "Qatia? Qatia, are you there?" Of course she was, and she opened the door with a sense of alarm, wondering what was the matter while Sebastian watched, wide-eyed, from the couch.

She could tell immediately he was stricken and flustered. There was a flush in his cheeks, but his skin looked pale, and he was shaking. He had books in his arms and he stuttered out a greeting before stumblign through the door and making a mad little dash for the living room table to drop the books.

Percival did not straighten immediately, leaning over the table with his hands on his knees and his back to Teqatia. Sebastian's gaze went even wider. Percival wasn't threatening in any way, he wasjust surprising. Teqatia slowly circled around behidn Percival, glancing at the books he had brought her.

And then Percival turned abruptly towards her and help up one last thing he was carrying. A scroll. "I, ah, guess I deserved this one after-- after how I gave the last one to you."

Teqatia rushed forward and embraced Percival, hugging him tightly. "Percy." He smiled on her shoulder.

Sebastian hopped off the couch and went to go play in the corner, away from the adults and their unfathomable interactions, but he kept an eye on Percival and Teqatia, and quietly listened as they spoke on the couch.

"Why?" asked Teqatia, resting her hand on Percival's.

"I didn't intend for it, it just... got stuck. To my hand. And I couldn't get it off until Reg suggested I just accept it, and now... I don't know."

"Those are the books on the scrolls' history?"

Percival was encouraged by the easier subject. "What they gave me, yes. Most unsightly place, no wonder you don't want to go back. I wouldn't exactly consider it a proper avenue for any sort of research, it's like a pit. A pit of ill repute. I'd rather trust a brothel, at least the cards are on the table."

Teqatia sniffed, glanced over at Sebastian to see if the boy had caught the colorful metaphor. It was a little early in his life for her to have to explain brothels. Sebastian seemed to be playing with the little toy car and not paying attention, so even though this was not the case, Teqatia was satisfied with the situation. She reached over for the first of the books and studied the tome with a careful eye.

Percival shiftd his weight and frowned, rather hoping Teqatia would not get too quickly distracted from his predicament, and he was relieved when she put the book down again and looked at him with an equally careful stare. He shifted again, uncomfortable for new reasons.

"I'm so sorry," she said finally, appraisal finished.

"I'm not." He almost chirped it, so great was his nervousness at that moment. "I think... you're not alone in all this now, are you?" He offered a weak smile.

She hugged him again, suddenly and tightly, and stroked the back of his head. She had never thought in her life to have such a good friend.

Percival looked over Teqatia's shoulder to where Sebastian was playing. Sebastian looked back at him, expression curious. Percival could only frown helplessly. What had he gotten himself into?

"See the cat. The cat can run. Can you run. As fast as the cat."

"Mm, time to put the book down now, Bastian. Arms!"

Sebastian obligingly raised his arms for Teqatia, allowing her to slide the patterned green tunic over his head.

"I wanta reeeead," he complained.

When Teqatia answered, her voice was mechanical, her mind elsewhere. "You can read when we get home. Maybe Percy will have some books. You want to see Percy, don't you?"

Sebastian considered the question. He didn't dislike Percy, but Percy was Teqatia's friend, and Sebastian rather thought Percy liked Teqatia's company better than Sebastian's. "Castles?" he suggested instead.

Teqatia, barely listening, just shrugged the suggestion off. She lifted Sebastian from the table and away from his book, straining a little to carry him. He was getting rather big, but not so big that he could walk the whole way to Percy's house. Teqatia would carry him as far as she able.

She had to admit, it was a brilliant plan. Percy was always showing up at her doorstep, so she may as well repay the favor by showing up at his. Teach him a lesson about how disrupting it all was. She smiled as she leaned Sebastian against her shoulder and navigated through the front door. Sebastian grabbed in the air at his book, whining a little as the door closed on it, but the book was soon forgotten. If there was anything Sebastian liked better than reading, it was being outside in the sun and sunshine, and today was a perfect day.

Teqatia hummed as they walked. Sebastian lolled his head from side to side with her every step, listening to the tune. He recognized it and started humming along, doing his best to remember the notes. He got a few wrong. Teqatia paused in her humming each time and prompted him with the right note, resuming once he had it. The sogn finished and Sebastian giggled and clapped his hands. "Good!"

Teqatia had to roll her eyes a little, deadpanning, "I'm glad you think so."

"Nother!"

So she picked out another tune from her childhood and hummed it, letting Sebastian repeat each verse after she did until her arms were too tired and she had to put him down. Then she let him name the colors of the homes and flowers they passed.

Percival's house was not modest. It had the kind of stately, overdone grotesqueness of most Victorian houses, and in its heydey would have served well a single family and some servants. Instead it housed only a single man who would have been counted among the servants in that era. Teqatia sighed a little at the sight of it. It was at least three times as big as the house she shared with Sebastian, and she thought her house was rather spacious and big. In Orsity, where people were packed like sardines into every nook and cranny, a house like hers would have been an impossibility. Percival's house would have been a sprawling apartment complex.

They had to proceed with caution at the steps, Sebastian tottering up each one, Teqatia holding his hand for balance. There were a lot of stairs, and Sebastian was not accustomed to them. Everything in Teqatia's house was on a single story. Teqatia pressed the buzzer and flinched at the sudden, wasplike sound.

A moment passed. She rang again. A voice finally answered, muffled, and she kicked the door, causing Sebastian to jump. "Open up!" she demanded, guessing correctly that Percy was probably trying to get dressed "for company" which involved putting on far too many unnecessary layers of clothes.

"I'm not ready!" was Percy's response. "I'm not dressed!"

"Open the ******** door!" said Teqatia. She did not care if Sebastian heard foul language, so long as he learned to use it responsibly, like she was doing now. "I've already seen you naked!"

That got a reaction. The door opened and a shocked Percival gaped at her. He did not have on his waistcoat or any sort of topcoat, so by his reckoning, he was not dressed to entertain visitors. He was still wearing more clothing than the average person. "What!?"

"Nice to see you," said Teqatia, pushing past Percival and leading Sebastian inside.

"Hi," said Sebastian.

Percival's house was decorated from top to bottom and crammed with some of the most expensive, ornate things money could buy. Everything would have fetched top dollar at an auction house. It was, frankly, pretentious, and nothing like the laid-back openness of Teqatia and Sebastian's house. There was so much furniture and furnishings in Sebastian's house that the place looked dark and foreboding, a problem not helped by the heavy drapery installations.

It was dark, but true to Percival's fastidious nature, it was clean, not a single speck of dust anywhere in sight. This was impressive achievement given the sheer amount of expensive junk on all the bookshelves and in the cabinets. There were a few piles of paper scattered on the floor where Percival had been working there when the doorbell rang. Teqatia kept a firm grip on Sebastian's hand.

"This is... this is a surprise," said Percival, panicking a little at the mess of papers on the floor. "Let me tidy this up." He hastily gathered up the papers and dropped them into the trays on his desk, struggling to keep everything in order. Teqatia regretted not bringing Sebastian's book, because now she was going to be responsible for keeping Sebastian out of Percival's stuff, about which Percival could be very particular. She looked around, wondering about all the Earth history Percival's knick knacks represented. Had anyone put such an assortment of Ilyrian artifacts in front of her, she would have identified them in every aspect of their origin. She spotted some sort of shiny baubly object that looked like a toy and handed it to Sebastian.

Two seconds later, Percival was there, wheedling it out from a disappointed Sebastian's hands. "That's a Fa-ber-ge!" Percival whined, putting it back up on the shelf.

"Fahburjh," muttered Sebastian, scratching his toe on the Persian rug. The rug was actually kind of fun; the closest thing in Teqatia's house was a towel on the floor in the bathroom.

"He's a kid," said Teqatia, irritated. "He needs something to play with." She mentally dared Percival to throw them both out of his house or declare their friendship over, knowing he would never do it. Nothing she had ever tried had dissuaded Percival. Now she did things to dissuade him out of some sentimentality.

"Uhm." Percival looked around. He took a gavel from one of the shelves and handed it to Sebastian, thinking there was nothing the little boy could really do to break the object. Sebastian looked at it curiously, testing the heft

"A hammer?" asked Teqatia, quirking an eyebrow.

"It's a... oh," said Percival, as Sebastian gave the gavel a test swing.

"Stay on the carpet," advised Teqatia, steering Sebastian to the middle of the room and sitting him down.

Percival wiped his brow. This was going to be a nightmare. "So sorry, where are my manners? I'll fetch us some tea." He fled before he could witness Sebastian destroy any of his things.

When he returned, nothing had been destroyed, and Sebastian seemed just as happy to bang away on the rug as anything. Teqatia was sitting on the floor with him. "And what color is this?"

"Black!" said Sebastian, and banged on a black part of the rug. Percival put the tea down on a small table where Sebastian could not reach it and knock the hot water over, pouring cups for himself and Teqatia.

"Lemon?"

"Yes, thank you," said Teqatia, distracted as always. Percival set the cup down on the sidetable to force Teqatia to join him. She reminded Sebastian to stay on the carpet once more before acquiescing.

Percival's tea was top-notch, as always. Teqatia sipped at it, enjoying the tart sweetness the lemon added. Percival tried to make polite conversation. "You're looking well," he managed.

"You look pale," she responded, taking another sip. "And I had not thought you would have so much free time."

Percival scoffed. "Free time? Are you joshing me?" He set his teacup down on the matching china plate. "I am up to my elbows in paperwork. You do remember that I have a job t the Liberty Center? And with the Mage Council?"

Teqatia took another sip, unruffled, and said, "Yes, but I'm curious as to why you have not discovered it takes just as much time to raise a child."

"Raise a... oh." Percival had almost forgotten about the scroll. It had been months now he'd had the thing, and since the first day, there had been no further unusual incidents. It just sat on the dresser in his bedroom, inert.

"Where is it, then?"

Percival made a face. "It's upstairs. It's unmoving. I did exactly what Reg said and it hasn't done a thing. I think it's dead. Or broken. Or some such. Anyway, that's hardly my fault it hasn't turned into a child. Maybe its child came out already and I've just got a used scroll?"

"Sebastian was born at the library the scroll came from," said Teqatia. When Percival just stared, not making the connection, she said in exasperation, "It might be necessary to take the scroll back."

Percival's teacup hit the saucer with a clatter. He hastily put it back on the tray. "Oh, no! Oh, don't you even think I'm going back there! Never in my life, Teqatia! I mean it!"

Teqatia raised and eyebrow again, still unruffled, and making a big show of it.

"Once was enough, thank you very much," grumped Percival, slumping down on the couch. He frowned for a moment. "You should take it."

"No," said Teqatia flatly, losing some of her cool.

"Well, I'm never going back," maintained Percival, slumping further. "Let the scroll do whatever it does on its own. And if it never does, it wasn't anything to do with me."

"Green!" announced Sebastian, banging at the color on the rug.

Somehow, Teqatia did not think this was a fair arrangement, not even in the slightest.