It was early in the afternoon, on a day late in September. The sun was still high overhead, and white cumulous clouds drifted sedately across a clear blue sky, though the air in Doc's back yard was incongruously still.
They were standing on the back lawn, facing south, waiting. Malina seemed confident of Pran's arrival, and assured her companions that the elf would appear within the hour.
Deborah felt a bit foolish, noticing that the bunch of them looked as though they were waiting for the arrival of an imaginary bus, and said so. Malina smiled in response, but Ralph avoided her look, anticipating Malina's possible humiliation if the person she expected didn't show. Doc showed no reaction, his attention elsewhere. His eyes were on the road, watching for a telltale plume of dust. Resting in the crook of his arm was "Betsy", his scattergun. Malina thought this the most awkward sort of club she had ever seen, and doubted that it would be much use against a sword, though she doubted that Pran would attack the old Healer.
At last, Malina told them that the appointed time was imminent. At her direction, they arranged themselves in a semicircle. In the center stood Malina, looking openly worried now, with Ralph and Doc to her left and Deborah to her right. The others began to feel something too, now; there was a charged expectancy in the air, like just before a thunderstorm . . .
A ripple appeared before them, as though the air was being folded in on itself. A vaguely coloured shape, reflected off invisible surfaces, looked as though it was moving towards them, though the ripple itself moved not at all. And then, suddenly growing distinct, a solid form stepped out from between the folds . . . the exact method was confusing to the senses. He was dressed in dark green hose and an earth-coloured brown jacket made of some sort of homespun material. Both were obviously designed for travel; they were of good quality, and much worn, as were his long boots of supple red-brown leather. He was nearly as tall as Ralph, though more slender of build. His short hair was a dark brown that was almost black, his eyes grey. He had a soldier's face, if that could be said of someone. But his bearing was stern and commanding, without an overt attempt on his part to make it so, and he bore an air of easy and well-accustomed authority. It was difficult to judge his age . . . he may have been an old twenty or a young forty.
Ralph, Doc, and Deborah, could only hold their breath and gape. The Elf, apparently not expecting their presence, paused and gave each of them a gauging look in turn. When he came lastly to Malina, he said with gentle irony, in the Elvish tongue, 'So, Malina, from appearances you seem to have fared not at all badly, though your choice of friends comes somewhat as a surprise to me.'
'Pran,' she pleaded, 'please tell me I don't have to go back.'
For an instant, the Elf was unable to conceal his surprise at her words, but said, sardonically, 'I am almost tempted to stay here myself, for there has been much trouble. The Prince has long forgotten the matter of your sentencing; it was to him a small matter, to his mind not worth his continued notice. Nevertheless, I came because you were promised the choice to return if you wished; I would not be made a liar of, no matter what the Prince wills.'
For a giddy instant, when the elf made his appearance, Doc thought that he would faint. The incongruously amusing thought of a cartoon character rubbing his eyes in disbelief came unbidden to his mind, and he felt like doing the same, and had to stifle a nervous laugh. But no matter how he would like to rationalize, there was no denying the elf's very real presence, or the manner of his sudden appearance.
Setting the gun down against the rail to the back stairs, stepping forward, and back into the moment, Doc said, in Elvish, 'Are you Pran, the person Malina tells us sent her here?'
Pran raised an eyebrow in surprise. 'Has Malina taught you this Elvish tongue?'
Doc nodded, noting Pran's referral to his own language.
Pran gave Malina an appraising look. 'When I sent you here, I confess that I greatly feared for your safety. You were rendered helpless, and you were hopelessly naïve. It gladdens me that good, rather than the intended ill, has come of your being exiled.
'But to answer your question,' he said, returning his attention to the doctor, 'yes, my name is Pran, and I did send Malina to your world.'
'May I ask why?' Doc said.
The Elf took a moment to consider his words.
'In truth, we who contrived to send her here, did so hoping that in so doing, her life would be spared. She was in imminent danger, as are many who oppose our King. However, as of late, many more are coming forward in open opposition to our Monarch, with the result that the Elf Kingdom is divided. For this reason, and for many others, there may soon be civil war. Many have died already, who should have lived out their lives in peace. Perhaps Malina has already told you of the persecution and murder of her kindred?
'And, if this trouble was not sufficient, I believe that the Lore of my Elven kindred may be leading many far astray from exercising good judgement in these matters; though I very much doubt this conveys anything of the import of the matter to your mind. Having said that, might I enquire as to your interest?'
'My interest?' said the doctor. For a moment he was at a loss for words. This was not at all what he had been expecting. Trying to make sense of what he had seen, he said, 'What did you just do? I mean, how did you just appear like that?'
'Much time would pass before I could fully make explanation,' the Elf told him. 'Even so, I very much doubt that you would believe anything that I might tell you. The Laws of your world do not harbour the kind of magic that exists in mine.'
'You're telling me that you came here by magic?' Doc said.
'I am,' Pran replied.
'Can you prove it?' Doc asked him.
The Elf raised an eyebrow. 'What further proof other than my appearance do you require? If you doubt the existence of magic, then no proof will suffice.'
Ever the sceptic, Doc said, 'There is one way. Take me to your world.'
The Elf appeared slightly amused. 'In my world, you would find yourself much out of place, as Malina was in yours. There is no reason to concern yourself with my world.'
'That isn't true,' Doc said, with a note of authority in his voice the others had never heard before. 'We became concerned the moment you sent Malina here.' He introduced himself, Deborah, and Ralph. 'Malina survived here,' he continued, 'only because Ralph, Deborah, and I, made ourselves responsible for her welfare. As far as that goes, since Malina was eventually able to find her way in our world, I have no reason to believe that we would be unable to find our way in yours.'
Frowning, the Elf pondered Doc's words a moment. 'What you say is true,' he said slowly, 'but it seems to me that this is not the true reason you wish to come to my world. I sense something behind your words other than that which you are telling me. I would know what it is, before making a decision.'
Doc's smile was complex. 'All right. To put it succinctly, this is our world. Sending Malina here was both an ill-advised and illegal imposition. If Ralph hadn't taken her in when he did, or if no one had found her, she would have died of exposure. As well, for the past year, the three of us have been keeping her presence hidden from the authorities. People living in this country must, by law, carry some form of identification, stating that they have a legal right to reside here, otherwise they are deported. There is not a country in this world where this law does not apply. In Malina's case, if the authorities had got hold of her, she would have been in serious trouble.
'To make matters worse, she is different from us. The medical people of this world would have discovered this, eventually, and she would have become the subject of study, both by them and by the government. If that had happened . . . you have no idea what a nightmare her life would have become
'Now, as far as the three of us are concerned, we have, with Malina, become something of an extended family. What affects her now very much concerns us.'
Looking surprised, perhaps even admonished, the Elf replied, 'I must take a little time to consider. This is not an easy matter. And I should warn you about accompanying her; wanting a thing is not the same as having a thing. You little know what you ask.'
Pran bore little resemblance to what Deborah had pictured as an elf. Until he appeared to them, she really didn't believe there was such a thing, or that he'd come at all. Her first impression of him was that he looked like a cop; an impression that automatically evoked in her feelings of distrust, fear, and hostility. But after reassessing her first impression, it became clear that his presence opened up a whole new world of possibilities for her.
He radiated self-possession, competence, self-assuredness, solidity, and a dozen other qualities she couldn't put a name to. Yet there was nothing overbearing or condescending about him that she could detect, nor did he seem judgemental in the least, despite his appearance and his words. When he had glanced at her once or twice, she had felt as transparent as glass. Or like she had no clothes on, a fact that had brought out feelings of shame like she hadn't felt since she was a little girl.
She knew now that she had to go to Malina's world, if she could. Maybe Doc wanted to prove to himself that there really was such a thing as magic, but her needs were more personal. She desperately wanted back her sense of self-worth. She couldn't explain why, but she knew that Malina's world could give her back her life.
When Ralph saw Pran for the first time, his feelings became hopelessly tangled. Once he got past his initial surprise, he soon realised with certainty that they were all hopelessly out of their depth, and that Malina was much more than she appeared to be, though no one suspected this more than he. In the face of the Elf's very real presence, he was forced to choke down pangs of misgiving and inadequacy. He could tell that Pran was not the type of person you could make demands of. He was either willing to help you or he wasn't, and you had better just accept whatever answer he was willing to give.
All he knew with any certainty was that his friends were determined to go to Malina's world, and that Malina was more than she appeared to be. At once, the sense that he owed it to the young woman to visit her world overrode all else.
'Owe it to her?' he thought to himself, trying to sort out his feelings. Laying there before him in plain sight amongst the chaotic scattering of intangibles was an unfamiliar emotion that he fully understood, and for a time, he found himself staring uncomprehendingly at his own feeling of responsibility towards the young woman, wondering how it came to be there, or what its existence might portend.
Pran had glanced at Ralph only once, and Ralph saw a look of approval in the Elf's eyes that had touched parts of him he had thought gone with his childhood.
Pran came inside for a while, accepting Doc's hospitality and noting the house's appliances with some private amusement. But he spent the better part of the afternoon walking alone about Doc's property, taking stock of the house, the garden, the small farm, and the emptiness that surrounded it. At one point he outstretched his hand, and a hummingbird lit on his finger. Stroking the tiny creature softly, speaking to it in a quiet voice, he approached the others where they sat now, on the back veranda.
'What manner of bird is this?' he asked them. 'I have never seen its like.'
Not showing his surprise, Doc replied, 'It's what we call a hummingbird. Used to be thousands of them.'
Taking in Doc's property with a gesture, Pran said, 'You created this place for the benefit of such wildlife?'
'Partly,' Doc replied. 'Mostly I do it in the hope that what little is left that's good here doesn't vanish entirely.'
Pran sent the hummingbird on its way with a movement of his hand that seemed almost formal. He then turned and looked squarely at Doc, apparently having reached a decision, and said, 'I cannot refuse one who so values life, regardless of the cost to himself. But nor can I answer for the consequences if you accompany me, for I am not Master of the world I live in. Is it still your wish to accompany me?'
Doc didn't hesitate. 'It is.'
Turning to Deborah, Pran said, 'You have conceived a desire to come as well. It may be that my world has the power to heal your spirit, but the risks are great. It would be useless to try to dissuade you, but be forewarned; you will not be able to recognize yourself with the passage of time.'
To Ralph, he smiled ruefully and said, 'You have decided to come to my world to find something; but you may find that that something is here, now, overlooked.' Ralph thought he referred to his relationship with Deborah, but wasn't entirely certain.
Considering Malina, Pran said, 'There is much that you could do for your kindred, Malina. Amongst the company of your present friends, the King can no longer pass judgement upon you.' With a strange glint in his eyes he added, 'For if the King was to wrong your new-found Human friends, the Men of our world would be full of wrath, and that is not something to be taken lightly. What is your will?'
Uncomfortably, she realised the others were waiting for her to answer. She could stay if she chose . . . and do what? Live here, alone? Yet it was safer for her to choose to stay behind. All she had to do was refuse. But Pixies were dying, and Pran had said that she could help them. How could she refuse to help them? Looking to the others for support, she saw that they would accept any answer she gave.
Yet she was silent for several long moments, torn. How could she go back to her old world, but avoid becoming what she was before?
She already knew the answer, but the prospect terrified her. At last, steeling herself, she said, 'I will come if you ask it of me. I wish to remain here, but all Faeriekind is in danger. Elves, too, who have been my friends.' She turned to Doc, Deborah and Ralph, torn. 'But please understand . . . Pran speaks truly; you do not understand the risks.'
His expression a mixture of surprise and relief, Pran said in a less formal tone, 'Their minds are set. I understand now why old Finli has long called you his friend. This past year he has greatly missed your presence as he journeys through the wood.'
Malina, close to tears, blurted, 'Finli I have missed him too. He was always so kind. I was so afraid he would be hurt because of me.'
Pran's smile was kind, but behind it there was a hint of potential violence, like a sword that might be drawn in anger. 'Finli is a friend, and those who would wish harm upon old Finli well know that it is wise not to harm my friends. Besides, he is more powerful than you know, and crafty. All his apparent risks are not without some element of contrivance on his part. Your concern, therefore, is worthy but needless, so on that score at least, you may put your mind at rest.'
They went inside and packed a few necessities. Later, each of them returned carrying a small backpack, Doc bringing his black medical bag as well. Meanwhile, Doc and Ralph had to make a few hasty preparations. Doc called a friend, telling her that he was going on vacation, and asked her to come by to water the plants and feed the cat, and Ralph called his job, telling the man he worked for that he had an urgent family matter to take care of. To his relief, his boss told him that there was no problem, that his son could take over for the time being.
Going to her room, Malina went to the dresser, opened the bottom drawer, and retrieved a carefully wrapped bundle. Inside was her Pixie dress. She opened the bundle briefly, taking a look at what had once been a part of her. 'How odd,' she thought, 'that what was once so familiar to me has been rendered so utterly strange.'
Deliberately, painfully, she carefully rewrapped the dress and replaced it in the bottom of the drawer, feeling as every young woman does when she puts away the things of childhood for the last time.
When it came time to translate them to the other world, Pran stood at the point where he had made his entry, placed an odd-looking object upon the ground, stepped back, and made an arcane gesture.
'Ware,' he said, 'this device, which I have procured at great risk from a Loremaster who is indebted to me, will enable us to pass through to my world but once. Until I am able to procure another, your stay in my world will be irrevocable.'
As before, a fold appeared in the air. Inclining his head to them, indicating that they were to follow him, he stepped into the fold and vanished. Doc followed on his heels, followed by Deborah, Ralph, and Malina. Once through, they found the fold has disappeared behind them, and that they were simply no longer in Doc's back yard.
They found themselves standing in the middle of a wide meadow. If they had known to look, the sun had moved not at all; in fact, the sky and clouds were much the same. Wildflowers grew in abundance, and at their backs, to the north, rose a tall deciduous forest. The air was untainted by haze or pollution, the light breeze smelled clean and fresh, with a delicate hint of the scent of wildflowers and grass.
Beyond the fields to the south were rolling hills, and in the distance beyond, a low range of mountains which, despite their proximity, appeared as sharply outlined and clear as if they stood only a stone's throw away.
Just north from where they stood, situated almost under the eaves of the forest, was a small farm, not much larger than Doc's, towards which Pran began leading them. On the farm were a number of buildings; a barn, several sheds, a granary, a chicken-coop, and four houses. Two of these dwellings were very small and rustic-looking, built of mortared field-stone, with thatched roofs; the next was slightly larger, being made of hewn stone and having a curiously convoluted roof made from wooden shakes; and the last, too was built of hewn stone, though it was roofed with slate tiles, was shuttered, with two chimneys, the smaller of which issued white smoke, which looked strangely incongruous in this rustic setting, as though fire were a newly tamed phenomenon which hadn't quite yet made its way into the normal scheme of things.
'This isn't possible,' Doc said in an awed voice, speaking for all of them. Taking a long look around, he muttered, 'It's like the world was made new again.' They were surrounded by colours and shapes and smells that appeared at once richer and deeper and more clearly defined than any they had ever known. The meadow about them was thick with many varieties of wildflowers that resembled poppies, columbine, sweet William, daisies, bachelor's buttons, and snapdragons of every height, hue, and colour. Even the grasses had tiny blooms of lavender and ivory, magenta and turquoise . . .
There was a feeling of majesty about the forest which struck the senses in a way that could only be described as physical, and there was an aura of immediacy about it that left one watching in vain for something obvious to happen. The trees were very tall and straight, their bark a clean, smooth silver grey, their leaves a variegated bright yellow-green, which fluttered shimmeringly when the breeze came up in great waves, their hissing like rain, or a waterfall.
'This has to be a dream,' Deborah muttered. The Elf gave her an appraising look, both sharp and veiled, but he said nothing.
As they made their way towards the farm, Doc, Deborah and Ralph continued to look about in wonder. Everything looked simple and familiar enough, and yet seemed to possess an extra dimension; it screamed at the senses from all around them. It wasn't something that could be put into words exactly; it was just that the place felt . . . well . . . somehow eldritch . . . magical. Everything was more than just alive; it was as though everything was part of a waking dream, being both alive and conscious as though they were one and the same thing on some level.
Malina, too, noticed this fact, as though for the first time. But instead of feeling as though she was returning home, to a place long familiar, she instinctively distrusted it, hanging back, hugging herself, and watching the other's wonder as though this mood presented some form of danger. Her moment of distraction had caused her to fail to observe the direction they were travelling. When she did finally notice, she stopped dead in her tracks and blurted, 'Pran, are you taking us to your home?'
Without stopping, the Elf said, 'I am.'
Still hesitating, she said, 'I cannot go there '
'But you must,' Pran said. 'You are going to find that much has changed since you left. And you will need my assistance, at least until your friends become familiar with this place. You especially will need to become reacquainted with our world, because you are . . . no longer equipped to deal with it.'
Finally running to catch up, she said, 'Why do you say that?'
Eyeing her wryly, he replied, 'You are not the same carefree Pixie who once had nothing better to do than tempt the wrath of the King's servants. You are changed; neither your heart nor your spirit is free any longer.' He didn't elaborate on what else he thought to be the cause of the change in her. 'That is not the way of a Pixie.'
To the others, he said, 'My wife, Theuli, is awaiting my return. You shall be guests in our home.'
Malina blanched. 'Theuli She would rather have my head.'
Pran laughed at this. 'What, for scattering her laundry as it hung out to dry? It was I who took the brunt of her wrath, and merely for finding the episode amusing. You will find that she is as capable of forgiveness.'
When they reached Pran's house they were greeted by an Elf boy and girl who appeared about twelve and ten. The two children had come running from the animal pens, built in a row beside the house, momentarily neglecting their chores to stare at the strangers in open fascination.
'This is Zuic, my nephew,' Pran said, tousling the boys's hair, 'and Rani, my daughter,' adding, with a slightly amused and affectionate expression, 'They are betrothed by arrangement, and will be married when they come of age.'
The three newcomers were unable to conceal their surprise, but Doc said, 'Long ago, our people used to marry very young, and often by arrangement. We do not do so any longer, but largely because our lives have become so very complicated.'
Pran nodded in comprehension. 'Ah . . . in our cities, where there is more to learn, where lives are more complex, and greater duty interferes, the age for marriage is markedly higher. Often the parents do not see fit to consult with their children whether the arrangement is wanted or desirable, except where their own often purely selfish designs are concerned.'
'That sounds all too familiar,' Doc commented wryly.
Pran stopped to exchange some words with the children, who were obviously hoping for some excuse to stop what they were doing, but when he left them, they soon returned to their chores with good-natured disappointment. Deborah noticed, with a nebulous feeling of envy, that both children's feet were bare, their garments simple, loose, and practical; something they could run, tumble, work, and play in, without a thought.
They found Theuli at the rear of the house beside the barn. She was just removing the saddle from a horse's back. The horse was tan, with a straw-coloured tail and mane, and shook its head spiritedly, wishing to be rid of its bridle. 'Don't be so impatient ' Theuli was saying, 'I have only two hands.' When she saw Pran with his guests, she stopped and gave them a measuring look before continuing with what she was doing. Pran went to help her, removing the horse's bridle and giving it a swat on the rump, sending it off to do what it would.
Theuli deposited the saddle and bridle in the barn, and when she was done there, returned and approached her husband's guests. She was taller than Deborah, and wore her dark-brown hair long and tied back. She wore what was unmistakeably a riding outfit of some sort, consisting of a quilted blouse, a thigh-length skirt made from overlapping, wide strips of leather, dark green hose, and a loose-fitting and worn pair of dark brown boots made of soft leather. Like Pran, there was a strength and solidity about her that made the others feel somehow diminished.
Malina stood with her heart in her mouth, hanging back, waiting for Theuli to berate her for various past misdeeds, both real and imagined. Instead, the Elf-woman suddenly smiled with unaffected delight. 'Malina? I hardly recognised you standing there dressed in such strange attire. Aren't you going to introduce me to your friends?'
Malina was now so used to wearing a comfortable pair of faded blue jeans, embroidered western-style shirt, and her favourite hiking shoes, that she hadn't given a thought to her odd appearance. She introduced Doc, Deborah and Ralph to Theuli a little nervously.
To Malina's surprise, Theuli considered the three newcomers with an approving look and said, 'You are all most welcome in our home. I can't tell you how relieved I am that this wanton Pixie came to no harm in your world. When Pran told me that the courts had forced her expulsion from the Elf Kingdom, I almost wished he had disobeyed. But come, bring your things and we will see to your lodging.'
Doc bowed to Theuli and replied, 'You are most gracious. I hope we can repay you in some way.'
Theuli smiled in delight. 'Malina has taught you our tongue? I would not have credited it But not to worry, there is work aplenty to do in this household, if you have a will.'
To Malina's surprise, Ralph asked Theuli, 'Is that a blacksmith shop I see in the back of your barn?'
'It was,' Theuli replied, wondering at his curiosity, 'but neither Pran nor I, nor any of our few households here know anything of smithing; we purchase such wares in town. I'm afraid the shop has lain idle since my father passed away, and that was several years ago.'
Ralph smiled broadly. 'Would you mind if I tried making a few things?'
Theuli looked to Pran who asked, 'Such as?'
Ralph pointed to an old sickle leaning against a fence with a blade that was bent and notched in several places. 'I can fix things like that. Even make them from scratch if the materials are available. I used to love working in my grandfather's blacksmith shop when I was younger.'
Ralph knew from the look that Pran and his wife exchanged that he was going to enjoy himself here.
From the outset, Deborah felt like a freeloader, and wondered at the vague sense of purpose she felt even now as she settled herself in.
The inside of the house came as a complete surprise to her, even as a bit of a shock. There were no individual rooms; there was no bathroom or bedrooms, no doors except for the front and back entrances, no separation into different chambers; indeed, there seemed to be no sense of privacy at all. As well, there was no plumbing, nothing that you could call a kitchen. In one corner, along the right side of the back wall to the north, and the north end of the east wall, were six pairs of cribs, one above the other, some of which were filled with clean straw, upon which lay carefully folded linen, blankets, and a pillow each; the beds, she supposed. In one corner of the room, near to an open range upon which sat four large iron kettles, were a number of objects she couldn't guess the use of; one was a deep wooden tub, perhaps five feet long and two and a half feet deep, the other a chair with porcelain pot set into its base. Another was a stand of some sort, with mirror, large ceramic bowl and jug, and a low bench which stood before. There was also a sort of pedestal sink with hand pump near the range.
On the other side of the room was an ornately carved dressing table with mirror, a set of silver horse-hair brushes, a jewelry box, and low bench. It reminded her very much of a dressing-table her grandmother had owned, when she was very small.
Along the west side of the house was a window with shutters, which opened onto a wide view of the low hills and forest from the west side of the house. She noted that there was no glass in the window, nor in any of the windows for that matter; there was a continual breeze passing through the house, and she couldn't help but notice that in this house, one didn't feel disconnected from the outdoors, as one did in the sort of homes that she was used to. It was like being outside, but having a roof over one's head, all at the same time. 'It really does feel like a home,' she thought, considering the heavy wooden beams, the rough wooden walls. The floors, though mostly wooden, were flagged in high-traffic areas with black stone, probably slate. The rest of the house, the walls and ceilings, were all crafted from rough, heavy, bluntly hewn wood, appearing at once practical and much used and lived in.
In the northwest corner of the dwelling was a large table surrounded by chairs, which she instinctively thought of as the "kitchen\dining room", though there was no such physical distinction to justify referring to it as such. Against the wall to the left of this was a dining-room cabinet. Between that and the table was a brightly coloured carpet, and to the left a small tapestry hung from the west wall as well, over a small sofa-like piece of furniture. On it was a picture depicting some sort of winged Faerie, walking through the forest at night. She was enveloped in her own pale glow, which was caught by the grass she walked upon and the surrounding foliage and wildflowers; she appeared to be listening for something, or waiting . . .
Deborah found that the picture disturbed her. Not in a bad way, exactly, but in a way that made her search its surface wistfully for clues, though about what she couldn't have said. After a while she gave up the effort, removed her backpack, sat down on the sofa, rose once more and placed her pack on a shelf near one of the cribs before going back to the dresser to look at a pair of objects that momentarily piqued her curiosity. The one, after picking it up and looking it over, turned out to be a brass oil lamp, or what she thought of as an "Aladdin's Lamp"; the other a small but heavy engraved bronze box which, when she looked inside, found that it was lined with wood, and contained what appeared to be a pair of very ordinary-looking rocks. Some memory twigged as she picked up the irregular lumps, one a sort of stone and the other a piece of ore, from their bed of small sheets of linen, several of which were partially burnt, and with a grin of anticipation, struck the flint and iron a glancing blow, producing a tiny shower of sparks. A tinder box No doubt for lighting the lamp.
This momentary diversion soon over, she immediately felt listless and useless again, and discovering that she was alone in the house, began to question her wisdom in coming here.
Doc was a doctor, and doctors were always needed. Malina was from this world, and Ralph's knowledge of machines and tools would make him an asset wherever he should find himself. But what did she, Deborah, know that was of any use here? Well, she was here now, and she could always ask what needed to be done and do it. There was no shame in that. And she knew from the beginning that she would have to learn what she needed to know. She had already learned two languages in a short time. But she still felt at odds with herself. Studying herself in a small hand mirror which she had found on top of the dresser, she said to her reflection, 'What am I going to do with you?'
To her complete surprise, the reflected image began dissolving into a kaleidoscope of colour. Another image began to form, imposing itself upon the first in a way that was at once violently invasive. It was a scene she recognised, that of a familiar-looking room and its sole occupant, a ten year old girl. The girl was clutching a teddy-bear and weeping, staring out her window and waiting for help that never came. The girl had just been raped by her own father. Deborah knew this because the young girl was herself.
She didn't realize she had cried out until Theuli came quickly into the house, concerned. Theuli found Deborah shaken and weeping, staring into a small hand mirror.
'Deborah, what has happened? Are you well?'
'I saw . . .' she sobbed, 'I saw myself in your magic mirror, when I was ten . . .'
It was more than just the magic mirror. She had assumed, incorrectly, that for all these years, she had become hardened to these images, that such things could no longer hurt her. What had shaken her to the very core of her being was the realization that just the opposite was true, that she had learned no strength or defence to deal with such things, that she had instead walled them off within herself, hoping that the strength of the wall would never be contested. But the wall had proved itself to be all too fragile. Wailing in inarticulate agony, she had turned away and huddled miserably within herself like some wounded thing . . .
'Magic mirror?' Theuli sat down beside Deborah on the small sofa and looked into the glass. There was only the reflected room.
Deborah was aghast. 'But I saw it It was there in the mirror.' A flood of memories, mostly feelings and a light-headed feeling of shock was catching up on her, making her feel cold and sweaty, her hands and her voice to shake. She put a hand to her face, feeling the urge to throw up.
'This mirror has no magic properties,' said Theuli. 'Whatever you saw was your own doing.'
Stunned, Deborah almost shouted at her. 'I didn't choose to be raped '
Theuli stared at her in shock. But she replied evenly, 'That is not what I meant. It was only the act of seeing something in the glass that I was referring to. But,' she finished with anger in her voice, 'I would hear this tale of rape.'
When Deborah finished telling Theuli of her parent's abuse, the Elf-woman shook her head, tears in her eyes. 'How do you bear it? And why did no one help you.'
Deborah wiped a sleeve across her tears and said miserably, 'Because I've never told anyone. I couldn't.'
Theuli took her hands, drawing Deborah's eyes to her own.
'Whyever not?'
Deborah shrugged. 'You'd have to have been there to understand . . . mostly I was afraid of what they'd do if they ever found out. I just waited until I was old enough, and then I ran away.'
Theuli gave her a shrewd look. 'And your journey has brought you here.'
Deborah saw her own dawning realization reflected in Theuli's eyes. 'I never really thought about it that way, but . . . yes, I guess that's true.'
'Perhaps it is just as well,' Theuli told her. 'The Men of our world are not generally known for such behaviour.'
'Right ' Deborah replied bleakly. 'With my luck, I'd find the one who was just like my father. At home, the two men I met when I was grown up weren't any better than he was. There was Ralph, too, but . . . we just couldn't seem to connect, somehow.' She heaved a sigh that was part sob. 'Sometimes I think my life must be cursed.'
'That may be,' Theuli replied with conviction, brushing a strand of hair from the girl's face with a mother's assurance and tenderness. 'But you will find that in this World, there are ways that such a curse may be fought.'
Sitting on the bench in the back yard, Malina sat quietly, looking towards the forest, feeling cut off, a stranger to her own world, and her old life.
She jumped in surprise as Ralph settled his heavy bulk beside her; she hadn't even heard his approach
'I thought you'd be glad to be home. How come you're out here, crying?'
She wiped at her face, surprised that she had been too preoccupied to even notice.
He had addressed her in the Pixie tongue, so she replied in kind.
'I do not wish to be here. This place is no longer my home.'
'Malina, we talked about this before, remember? You could have stayed behind.'
She turned away from him, thinking "Not while you are here."
Body language eloquently voicing the words she hadn't uttered, he said contritely, 'I'm sorry . . . it seems that every little thing I do or say only makes things worse.'
'It is not your fault,' she muttered. 'It is mine, for not being able to control my own feelings.'
'You can't help that-'
Stung by the import of those words, she blurted defensively, 'I must If I am to be . . . to make myself something that you would want . . . then I must '
Taken aback, speechless for a moment, Ralph considered his reply before saying, 'Malina, being yourself is enough. If someday something happens between us- well, if it happens, it happens.'
'Rowf not understand ' she said in broken English, close to tears once more. 'I do not want Man like Rory to hurt me again I want to be able to tell him "No, leave me alone," and to walk away when strangers push themselves on me. You think I am like Deborah, like Human woman. But I am Pixie, and such things . . . they are not the way I am made '
The full import of what she said struck him, by increments, like a physical blow.
'Are you telling me that despite this, you're willing to try to make yourself over? For me?'
'I try to tell you,' she replied sullenly. 'In your world, you not to believe. I come here, because I hope, then, maybe you can see.'
He took a deep breath, let it out slowly. Without looking at her, he rose, placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, and left.
For a brief moment, she felt lambent at his touch. And for some time, stared in the direction he had gone, unable to decide whether she wished he had or hadn't touched her.
Seated in a jade-green leather-upholstered chair, Doc was just checking over his medical instruments, spreading them out across the top of an adjoining end-table, when he noticed two pairs of curious eyes watching him. Zuic and Rani were fascinated by Doc's glasses, and by the exotic appearance of the contents of his medical bag. Looking at them over his glasses produced the same shy laughter that he got from most children, and he invited them to explore (with care) the objects of their curiosity.
Zuic was a studious boy, similar in appearance and bearing to his uncle, and he immediately began asking Doc first what his tools were for, and how they worked. Doc had always greatly enjoyed the inquisitiveness of children, and told them anything they wanted to know. Rani, the spitting-image of her mother, was equally curious, and listened to all that was said in such wide-eyed wonder that Doc had to smile.
When Pran came to tell him that an afternoon meal awaited them, (it had been prepared on an outdoor grill, and was now being brought indoors by the three women) Pran waited until Rani and Zuic had left.
'You are a Healer,' Pran said, a note of respect in his voice, arms crossed, leaning against a thick wooden post.
'I try to be,' Doc replied dryly, carefully repacking his bag.
'It may be,' said Pran, 'that your skills may be of use here after all. Our physicians' knowledge is not so great or so broad as they would like. I am under the impression that they could learn much from you.'
Doc smiled. 'There may be much they could show me as well. I know nothing of magic.'
'There is no magic in the setting of broken bones, and such,' Pran replied. 'You will soon come to discover that what you term "magic" has its limits, and those limits will become painfully apparent when it comes to Healing.'
When Ralph and Malina came back inside and entered the area at the back of the house Deborah thought of as the kitchen, though it had only a table, cupboard, and cabinet, they found Theuli and Deborah getting the mid-afternoon meal ready. A moment later they were joined by Doc and Pran, with Zuic and Rani in tow. Automatically and without question, everyone began lending a hand, if only to fill the water jug or set everything out.
The table was just big enough for all eight of them, Pran and Theuli at either end, Ralph, Malina, and Deborah with their backs to the open kitchen window, and Doc, Zuic and Rani on the other side.
The fare was not altogether unfamiliar to the newcomers. There was a still-warm loaf of bread with a hard crust, a salad garnished with a variety of flower-petals, and made from a plant with crunchy blue-green leaves, with long slices of a yellow pepper-like plant mixed in; a large, yellow, squash-like plant that had been cooked and cut up into large sections, a thick meaty stew with chunks of white, green and yellow vegetables, and small pastries filled with fish and cheese.
When they were nearly finished, Pran and Theuli's neighbours showed up at their kitchen window with several children, who evidently wanted to play with Rani and Zuic.
Deborah, Malina, Theuli, and the neighbour's wives set to a quick cleanup of the kitchen, before everyone made their way to the living room. The neighbours had come, partly to introduce themselves to Pran and Theuli's visitors, having observed their arrival, but mostly because they were in the habit of doing so. Pran and Theuli had the largest house in the area, and it had naturally become a local meeting-place.
As they seated themselves, a young Elf woman, Nevana, sat next to, and began speaking with Ralph. To say that she was striking would be an understatement; she was nearly as tall as Theuli, long and lithe, her hair an alluring mass of tight, dark curls; she moved with a feline grace, and was all-too-obviously interested in Ralph. Stung with fear and jealousy, Malina couldn't keep her eyes off the girl, or notice the affect she was having on Ralph.
Theuli kindly tried to distract her, trying to draw her into conversation with the other women, who were curious, and began asking her about her experiences in the other world, evidently having had some knowledge of her plight, which surprised her. Everyone listened to her halting story with frank interest, and despite her shyness, she was able to answer their questions with something like confidence. But by degrees, her attention wandered off, and Deborah, to verify the extent of the young woman's distraction, said to her, 'Malina, are you going to eat that bowl of spiders with a fork or a spoon?'
When Malina turned to her blankly, Deborah and Theuli exchanged a knowing look. Oblivious once more, Malina continued to watch Ralph and Nevana conversing.
Later that day, needing a little time to herself, Malina went outside to explore. She especially wanted to see Theuli's garden at the front of the house, which she had glimpsed only briefly, a little over a year ago.
The single most prominent feature of the garden was a large sundial fashioned from granite and bronze, which stood on an island in the center of a large, kidney-shaped pond. The island was reached by two small stone bridges, one from either side; the island itself was an intricate pattern of rock gardens, separated by winding paths flagged with white stone.
There were small stone and bronze statues hidden throughout the garden. Water issued from the mouths of some of these which were at the pond's edge; the water for the pond was evidently provided by a natural underground spring. She noticed, too, that there was a small egress to the pond, which was little more than a shallow ditch which was overgrown with bluebells, snapdragons, crocuses, violets, and small varieties of coloured daisies. She guessed that this small rivulet led to a point somewhere out in the meadow beyond, no doubt feeding the grasses there.
There was one statue which especially caught Malina's eye; that of a creature of Elven myth, a winged Elf-woman, standing lightly on the ball of one foot, poised as though in flight. By some unknown art, the bronze she was cast from was tinted with varying hues of green, red-browns, deep rich golds, and other nameless metallic colours. Unlike the wings of Faerie creatures, hers were depicted as being feathered, and her body was clothed in some diaphanous gown which concealed nothing, yet which gave her an air that was at once ethereal, sublime. 'Like a Christmas angel,' Malina thought to herself, thinking of a dusty, ancient angel that had topped the Christmas tree at Doc's house.
The holiday season in Rowf's world had been an especially troubling and baffling time for Malina, and for some reason, she had skimmed the experience as one would the incomprehensible contents of a foreign culture, and tried to think about it as little as possible. Yet, far from evoking any sort of religious sentiment, which by its very nature was utterly alien to her, she found that the bedraggled, woebegone, dust-stained old angel had greatly intrigued her, perhaps because beneath its faded antique exterior there persisted an untainted blush of youth, serenity and innocence, that had persisted despite the ravages of time.
Turning her attention to the pond, she saw that there were a wide variety of brightly-coloured salamanders, each being a piece of living jewelry. She had to smile, in spite of her wonder and delight. The creatures were obviously well-fed and spoiled, for they swam rapidly to her side of the pond the moment she approached, and hung about, hoping for a handout.
That evening found her sitting on the grass in front of the house, watching the sun getting low in the sky, studying the wide world around her, her mood drifting in a netherworld between serenity and melancholy.
She was startled from her reverie by a quiet voice. It was Theuli.
'Malina?' the Elf woman said, smiling.
Malina looked up at the Elf woman uncertainly.
'You needn't be so nervous in my presence,' Theuli told her. 'Come, let us sit over there under the old oak tree to the west of the barn and watch the sun set.'
When they had arranged themselves, Theuli said seriously, 'Pran has been wondering, and I am asking, if I may; Malina, why have you not gone back to being the young Pixie that you were? Deborah told me that a Man had hurt you in their world. Has what he did done something to you?'
The young Pixie woman shook her head, but didn't reply.
'I am so sorry ' Theuli said. 'My husband and I were so hoping that you would be safe. But tell me, where is your dress? Why do you continue to wear that strange clothing, when you could be running about as you used, and flying, free?'
Malina tried to smile, but failed.
'I am free no longer,' she said. 'Though it may not appear to be so.'
Mystified, Theuli said, 'Pran tells me that you were full-willing to remain in your friends' world, unable to cast so much as a spell. If I may ask, what has happened to cause such a change in you?'
This was an uncomfortable subject for Malina, and she took a long moment before answering. 'For a year, I was alone and defenceless in a world where I could not use my power without causing myself mortal harm. Soon after arriving there, I was injured. So there I was, hurt, unable to transform and fly away, unable even to run or heal myself, and for the first time, unable to make my way in life without the help of others.
'When I was injured . . . I had never been in pain before . . . at least, not like that. Before, I would simply have made it go away. Rowf found me near the entrance to his home, unable to flee.
'To my surprise, instead of doing me harm, he was concerned only over my injuries. He sent a message to Doc, who came and tended to me. From the beginning, Rowf has been very kind to me, and though I was trespassing and trying to steal a little food that day, he was not angry and did not try to send me away. He fed me and cared for me, and took me with him when he had work to do.
Embarrassed, she continued. 'From the start, I have felt . . . well . . . drawn to Rowf, in ways that I do not truly understand.
'But I am Pixie, and he and Deborah are very close; on more than one occasion, they almost became mated to one another.
'Deborah tells me that what was between them is over, that if Rowf will have me, she will not be angry.
'But Rowf . . . both of us know that I do not understand my need for him. Yet I have come to realise that he is necessary to me, that my life is no longer my own. At night, I lay awake, having dreams that I am laying with him, in his arms, wanting to stay there forever and ever . . .
'Until I came to be in Rowf's world, I could never have imagined such a thing . . . how warm and safe he makes me feel inside. At least, when he pays attention to me,' she added, abandoning her reverie and sighing. 'I must have made such a fool of myself while he was speaking with that girl, Nevana. But I can't help it I want to be with him. I do not wish to be a Pixie any longer.'
'Oh, Malina ' Theuli muttered under her breath, 'What have we done to you?'
Before Zuic and Rani went to bed, Deborah was vaguely surprised to learn that the two youngsters slept together in one of the cribs. She had heard that children used to be married off as soon as they reached puberty, and found that she envied their uncomplicated, straightforward lives. They even seemed well-suited to one another, she thought.
This brought home to her once again how her early life had been so senselessly mangled, and how her early experiences affected her to this very day. Theuli had said something about "such a curse may be fought," and Pran had said something about "healing".
Deborah desperately needed healing, and she wished she knew how to fight back, without further distorting her already damaged spirit.
She was in for a number of shocks that evening, however. Discreetly telling Theuli that she needed to use the washroom, the Elven woman pointed her in the direction of the commode, the chair with the ceramic bowl set into its base.
'But,' stammered Deborah, 'isn't there . . . at least a curtain . . . or something? The Elf woman stared at her in incomprehension, until Doc said to the young woman, 'Deborah, if you're looking for privacy while you do your business or bathe, you're in the wrong place. What you should be asking is where the proper place to dispose of the contents of the commode is, and where it is properly taken and cleaned.'
At last, understanding setting in, the Elf woman shook her head in wonder. 'Come along,' she said to the girl, taking her by the hand. 'Malina, you, too, come with me, and I will show you a few things.'
The contents of the commode, Deborah discovered, were tossed into a trough along with the pig's filth, rancid carcass bones, and other debris, the smell of which made her gag. One of Zuic's jobs, Theuli told her, was to toss the odd shovelful of dirt over this debris. Nearby was a rain-barrel, ewer, and earthenware pot, used to rinse the commode. On the ancient, rickety-looking wooden stand which held the ewer were horse-hair scrub-brushes, and a bar of caustic soap.
Later, before Rani and Zuic went to bed, their mother got the large open-range going, heated several kettles of water, which were filled from the hand pump, filled the wooden tub with steaming water, mixing hot and cold until the temperature was right. Then, both children simply went to the tub, doffed their clothes, as they had obviously done every evening, and got into the bath together.
It wasn't so much their nudity, as a host of other images which crowded into Deborah's semi-conscious mind; that of parents and siblings being intimately familiar with each other's naked appearance . . .
'Deborah?'
She raised her head, surprised that she had nodded off. To her surprise, the house, the room, for that is what it really was, was in semi-darkness. One candle dimly lighted the washing area; the rest of the room was an indistinct guess.
'Yes?'
'It's your turn.'
She looked around, uncertainly. 'But . . . what about the others?'
'They have bathed already, and gone to bed. It is now your turn.'
She thought of simply refusing, but the Elf woman's will seemed to supersede her own. She got up from the couch, and made her way to towards the bath. Turning her back to the Elven woman, looking about the room, trying to be sure that no one was watching, she stripped off her clothes, stepped into the tub, and sat down.
'Lay back,' Theuli instructed her, 'so that I may wash your hair.'
As the Elven woman plied her with sweet-smelling soap and water, Deborah caught a whiff of the Elven woman's tresses, and realized that she had already bathed, herself.
For a moment, Deborah began to feel wonderfully relaxed. Then, caught entirely off-guard, she began weeping, for some moments, unable to stop.
'You will sleep with me, at least for the first few nights,' Theuli told her softly. 'Until your spirit learns that it is not utterly alone.'
As Malina lay drowsily in bed, waiting for sleep that wouldn't come, there was a sudden pressure of a heavy body sitting next to her in her crib.
'You still awake?' it was Ralph, who spoke to her in a low voice, almost a whisper.
Turning onto her side facing the interior of the room, for a moment she couldn't answer. But eventually, fearing that he would assume she was asleep, and leave once more, she said, timidly, 'Yes.' It was almost a question.
Settling himself, relaxing, he said, tentatively, 'I've been meaning to ask you something, now that we're back in your world.'
She sighed. 'Ask.'
He took a deep breath, then plunged ahead. 'After all that stuff you told me about Pixies and the way you used to be, ever since we got here, I've been expecting you to sprout wings and fly away or something.'
She was silent for so long that he wondered if she was going to answer, or if he had said something to upset her. But at last, she spoke. Laying with her chin on her hands, elbows propped up on her pillow, she said, 'Is that what you want me to do?'
He stared at her blankly. 'What has what I want got to do with it? I was just wondering why you're living like the rest of us, instead of like you said you used to.'
Somewhat evasively, she replied, 'I can't make magic. Not like I used to.'
Surprised, concerned, he said, 'What do you mean?'
Still avoiding his eye, she said, 'I can still do little things, but . . . it is fading.'
'But why? Malina, I'm sorry Was it from something that happened to you in my world? Was it . . . does this have anything to do with what that Rory character did to you?'
Answering him indirectly, she said, 'No, it has nothing to do with him. But living in your world has changed me. Or to be more truthful, being in your world has brought about changes in me.' She shrugged. 'Actually, I'm glad. I was afraid of becoming like I was before.'
'What was that?'
Mimicking Theuli, she said, 'A wanton little Pixie.'
He chuckled, quietly. 'You are a wanton little Pixie.'
They both glanced at Deborah, who had just got naked out of the tub on the other side of the room, and was being dried by Theuli, oblivious to their watching eyes. Strange, Malina thought to herself; standing there like that, something of her posture, or of something I can't define, she in some way reminds me of myself.
Studying the Human girl with mild curiosity, but looking disappointed at what Ralph had said, she said, 'I do not want to be a Pixie, wanton or otherwise.'
He had come to know Malina well enough to know that if he stayed with her, she would soon doze off, whereas left on her own, she would lay awake until all hours. 'Give poor Deborah some privacy and lay down,' he told her. He noticed with a pang that she did so without question, like a child. He then drew the blankets up over her shoulders and began rubbing her back.
'As far as your being a Pixie is concerned, I really don't think it matters. I . . . we . . . I like you just the way you are.'
'Rowf You just saying that to make me sleep,' she said irritably in English, knowing this game, that he had lulled her to sleep in this manner on several occasions in the past.
He smiled. 'Yes, well, it is late, and you should have been asleep hours ago.'
'Then why you not go to bed?' she said.
'Because I'm worried about you, and I'm not going to stop worrying until you go to sleep.'
Her look of sleepy delight stayed on her lips long after she had fallen asleep. For several minutes he sat watching her, torn by guilt and pity. He was very much attracted to Nevana, the young neighbour he had met earlier. She was an intelligent, mature young woman, who had no apparent hang-ups or problems, who knew what she wanted, and was very much interested in this stranger from another world. He realised, feeling guilty as he did so, that Nevana was everything Malina was not.
Later, unable to sleep, his thoughts chasing themselves like cats after phantom mice, Ralph noticed a light, that one of the oil lamps in the kitchen area was burning, and getting up out of his surprisingly comfortable crib, discovered Pran sitting at the table, sipping at a glass of yellow wine, looking tired and sated, as though at this late hour he had just finished a long day's work. When he saw Ralph, he held the glass up inquiringly. With a tired nod, Ralph joined him. On the table before them was a plate of assorted meats, cheeses, crackers, and pickled vegetables.
Pran smiled, broadly. 'Thoughts of Malina, or of Nevana, perhaps, keeping you awake?'
Looking tiredly at the Elf, Ralph muttered, 'You a mind reader or something?' Making himself a little sandwich of crackers, meat and cheese, he added, 'To tell the truth, I've been thinking about them both, but it's mostly Malina I'm concerned about. I feel like I can't do anything that's not going to end up hurting her.'
Pran winced in empathy, though he didn't explain the source of his own feelings on the matter.
'Nevana is very alluring young woman,' Pran told him, 'and much less likely to be a burden.'
Ralph almost responded with anger to this assessment, but the simple truth, and its accordance with his own thoughts stopped his voice momentarily.
'I wish I could find it in myself to simply say to Malina, "Go and be a normal Pixie, or else find someone who'll look after you," but for some reason I can't. It's not the sort of thing you can trust another man to do, where a girl like her is concerned. But by putting it off and not saying anything, I just end up leading her on. For the past year, now, I've been sitting on the fence, dodging the inevitable, knowing that the longer I wait, the worse it's going to be.'
Appraising him carefully, Pran said, 'You care for her very deeply, don't you?'
Ralph, thoughtfully, considering events over the past year or more as a whole, took a deep breath, let it out slowly. 'Yes, I do. But I wish it was just as simple as that. It would be so much easier if she was just like any other girl. It's like . . .' he fumbled momentarily for a comparison. 'It's worse than having a young adolescent girl fall in love with you. At least with a teenager, you can explain things to her in a way she can understand. Even if you can't explain everything verbally, there are taboos between children, or adolescents and adults, that don't need explaining. I mean, if it was your daughter, for example-'
'I do not need the analogy explained to me,' the Elf said, with a father's mixture of ire and automatic mental diversion from his daughter's growing self-awareness. 'But I think you mean to say that it is more than that; that not only is Malina very naïve, but she is at the mercy of urges which do not come naturally to her kind; that explanation will always fall short of the mark, and only experience will suffice.'
Ralph groaned inwardly. 'I wish you hadn't put it like that, but yes, that's pretty much it. That sort of responsibility . . . and what if she can't handle those sorts of experiences, even if she wants them, or thinks she does?'
Changing the subject, at least apparently, Pran said, 'Nevana seems very much taken with you.'
Ralph found that, although considering Nevana in any way presented him with difficulties he didn't want to face, the very thought of her seemed to clear the air, dispelling all doubt and misgiving.
'Nevana is a girl I can understand. She's straightforward, direct, knows what she wants . . . she's very intelligent . . . yet somehow uncomplicated at the same time. From the little I gathered from speaking with her tonight, her life is pretty uncluttered.'
As though contradicting Ralph's words, Pran said, 'Nevana is looking for a husband, and stability, and now there's an exciting new stranger in our midst; one with a trade, one whom her parents readily approve of, and most importantly, at least to her mind, is not embroiled in any sort of disruption. If civil war should strike, Nevana would opt to take the line of least resistance.'
'Which is?' Ralph asked him.
Pran raised his eyebrows. 'Why, leave the Elf Kingdom, of course Ah, but I forget, you are not knowledgeable about our world. Suffice it to say that outside our immediate borders, to the East, Southeast, and Southwest, are Kingdoms of Men and Dwarves. Should civil war strike, she would choose to depart to one of the Kingdoms of Men. Your presence here only reinforces that possibility in her mind. It would be wise,' he added, 'if she were to be kept in ignorance about your true origins, else she might become obsessed with having you take her there, forthwith '
'Why wouldn't she want to stay here?' Ralph asked him.
Pran appraised him speculatively. 'I can only surmise, from what little I've seen of your world, and from the nature of your question, that you have never experienced war.'
Though the Elf said this in a tone of voice that was almost neutral, Ralph found himself going cold inside at his words.
'No, you're right. There have been wars in my world; it seems there always are, somewhere. But they never seem to happen in the place that I live, or if they have, they haven't occurred during my lifetime.'
'Then you are indeed fortunate,' the Elf told him. 'But consider; Nevana is a free-spirited young woman who has grown up in a society that places much importance on duty and social responsibility. The duty and social responsibility I refer to most often includes duties related to warfare; a matter in which Nevana, by her nature, wants no part. Perhaps that view will show you the young woman in a new light.'
'You're saying,' Ralph said slowly, reading between the lines, 'that she's the sort of person who runs away from her responsibilities.'
'Whereas Malina,' the Elf said pointedly, 'for all her problems, and for all her shortcomings, does not.'
'Are you trying to give me some sort of indirect advice?' Ralph asked him dryly.
Pran seemed to consider his words seriously for a long moment.
'Suffice it to say,' he said slowly, 'that if I were you, I would take my time, and let events unfold at their own pace, and not let myself be rushed into anything, as things from where you stand are not necessarily what they seem. I am here referring to things that I can see much more clearly than yourself. And I should warn you: Nevana can be a very persuasive young woman. At least,' he added with a disarming smile, 'where a young, unattached man like yourself is concerned.'
Before going back to bed, Ralph first checked on Malina, finding to his relief that she was still fast asleep. He noticed with a pang that she was wearing a grey t-shirt he had given her for a night-dress; the sleeves were far too long, it was old and faded, but she refused to part with it, or wear another. He then went to check on Deborah, but to his surprise, found that she lay in a crib with Theuli, that they were speaking together in hushed voices. They did not notice his presence, so engrossed were they in their conversation. Stealing as silently as possible back to his own crib, the bare floor very cold under his bare feet, he found himself hoping that Theuli could somehow mend, or at least work some emotional balm on Deborah's habitual emotional angst. He crawled gratefully back into his own crib, and tried to get used to sleeping in a strange bed.
He well knew that evenings were, for Deborah, a time when she had the greatest difficulty in dealing with her personal demons. Her usual habit was to lay awake for a long time, and if sleep wouldn't overcome her, she would get up and go out somewhere, usually to Murphy's or some other nightclub, would come back alone and intoxicated, throw herself prone into bed, and sleep like the dead until late morning or some time in the afternoon.
For the entire time he and Deborah had been together, he had observed this pattern of behaviour with helpless patience. It now occurred to him that, in this household, things would either have to change, or come to a head.
He fell asleep hoping that things were going to change for the better.
For all of them.