Hunters

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Interlude

Finally! I thought I'd never get here.

Right...what do I have to explain this time? Oh yes. Seeing as though Zaknafein would likely not be interested in Unseleighe Sidhe or explanations of those sort, I shall sound them off someone else later...but basically now, there are Good and Evil and Neutral in the Underhill.

Good is Seleighe court, Sidhe is another name for Elf (I think), Neutrals are just neutrals, and Evil is Unseleighe Sidhe. Hah! I knew you saw that one coming...but basically all the horrible (Depends on your view, actually) things like Bane-Sidhes (Banshees) are found on the Evil side, all the goody-two-shoes ones are found on the Seleighe court.

A lot of creatures Underhill, including the Underhill itself, have a strong allergy to Cold Iron, or the Death Metal, as they call it. Apparently it sort of warps magic... this Cold-iron-in-Underhill fiesta has been tried before in Chrome Run, I believe, where Tannim drives his Mustang around there screaming.

Tulan the Black Bard is also mentioned in that book, though only briefly enough to say that he is Unseleighe Sidhe. Again, the fellow, although he is technically Evil, does not seem evil, does he? This is because I believe that well, no one can be absolutely evil. And just because he is supposedly Unseleighe means that he goes around cackling insanely and torturing people for fun...

In fact, one difference between Seleighe and Unseleighe is that Seleighe try to earn all their money legally, while Unseleighe are more...open to other ways. All right, so I don't approve of violent pornography as a way to make money, but well...given a choice, which category do you think Zaknafein fits in?

Ok, so I don't think Zak knows what pornography is.

Put it this way...if Zaknafein needs a hundred bucks, do you think he would 1) Go work in Macdonald's for a month or 2) Kill some guy and take it off his purse?

I wish I could choose the second.

All right, so I don't, not really.

Oh yes. About Mage-Sight...someone with mage-sight would be able to see ghosts, and other mages, I believe. Ellyn has some talent in it ... not great, Unsurpassed-and-previously-Undiscovered-Mage talent, but talent nonetheless. This allowed her to have 'imaginary' friends, but around the age of ten, she sort of 'stopped' seeing them due to a mental block in the form of Ghosts Do Not exist and Imaginary Friends are a Childish Trait.

Since SERRAted edge also takes place in America, so Ellyn is in America. Hence, the town she lives in shall remain unnamed so I won't receive any posts like "There's no such place in this town! How dare you make up such lies!"

The story will occasionally jump back to Earth, however. Seems to be an irresistible pull to dump two impossible characters in front of humans and see them jump. Or run away screaming...or hit them with a crowbar...you'd never know, will you? However, on this 'version' of Earth the 'Dark Elf' series won't exist...so no one will ask Zak for his autograph, which would probably complicate things further especially if Zak thinks that the person is asking him for money or his weapons.

So, for a summary of what has happened so far: Zaknafein met Tulan, and the both of them have gone into the bounty-hunter business. Tulan is Sidhe and the Black Bard ... he lives in a Hall, along with the little fairies, but of which he cannot leave, due to a nasty trick from Keighvin and the late Madoc Skean, both of whom I cannot stand in the books. Since Keighvin is technically (now) an engineer with some knowledge of metal-magic, keying the Gate with Madoc to iron wouldn't be too difficult. And they're both supposedly High Court, too.

Right...so Chapter 5 ends with Zaknafein getting magically transported off the Underhill to Somewhere. It is quite obvious what is going to happen next...

What is this 'Ash' person? Well, you'd find out later, and so will Ellyn.

Yes, I know that it sounds suspiciously like Bad Fanfiction for such a supernatural encounter to happen so conveniently to Ellyn just after the announced divorce (and the door slam), but I suppose any girl who has this sort of shock becomes unhinged...er, that is to say, more Open for a short while. And she did 'Call' for help, after all.

So why didn't these supernatural creatures show up during earlier times when she asked something for help? Like if she lost her friend's precious Walkman or something?

Can you imagine summoning a supernatural being to help you look for a Walkman?

You can laugh.

Well, being the sort of person who's never lost something belonging to someone else before, I can safely guarantee you Ellyn hasn't had this sort of 'crisis' before.

Why does Ash keep calling Ellyn 'lass'?

This was inspired from an online game I play, from which a fellow keeps calling me lass. For some reason. I doubt he's Irish, too...and anyway, it does sound patronizing, doesn't it? (Wonders vaguely what matronising might mean).

All right, before you hit the delete all key, I'd end the interlude...actually, from another point of view this may be the 'story' and the rest of the stuff about Zaknafein and Tulan and monsters the interlude...

Ok, I'd stop now.

-Anya, trying to think of a way to kill off Keighvin.

Chapter 6: Earth

Zaknafein had the uncomfortable feeling that he was somehow travelling backward at a horrifying speed. The wind tore at his hair, wrenching at him and trying to pull him off course, but whatever it was that was hauling at him was too strong. He didn't feel anything pulling it him ... which made it worse, somehow. At least you know where you're standing when you can see some giant tentacles or some hefty rope attached to your arms...

His first thought was I can't turn around and I can't see where I'm going...which led nearly immediately to the instinctual terror that things are way out of control. Then the voice in his head which usually had say over most circumstances pointed out neatly (a feat when the wind is shrieking next to your ears) that if he was going to crash into, say, a cliff or into some bubbling, lava-temperature thing, he really didn't want to see it happen.

Zak tried to look around him, but his eyes watered so badly he finally closed them tight and focused all his will power to keeping the swords from being torn from his hands, ignoring the sensation that he was being choked to death by his piwafwi...

After what seemed like an eternity of this, he seemed to slow down. Oh, he was still being pulled somewhere, but the wind didn't seem to be that loud anymore. Either that or he was going deaf, also a possibility, but one he did not want to consider.

Voices...

It started as a strange buzz, like (Yes, I know Zak wouldn't know about this) static on a perpetually broken telephone, the kind that your father installs in your bedroom has. (Incidentally, the old fox fixed this to the Internet line, so he could occasionally call from work to see if I was online or studying, but this is off topic, yes.)

Then it grew in volume and pitch, to an unceasing murmur and susurration of sound. Zaknafein morbidly strained to listen, then wished he hadn't as the sound grew loud enough to be heard.

It was an unrelenting babble of meaningless sound; the chatter of a few thousand voices with that strident undertone that meant that the speaker thought what he had to say was the most important thing in the world. "Middle-East oil prices...doom, child, the Prophecy...swords, steeped in blood and...Wine of heart and fermented in...Cat, real cat, false..."

The sounds rose gradually in volume until Zaknafein clapped his hands over his ears, then became softer again to the irritating buzz, then higher again, in an alternating wave of sound that did not allow one to get used to it, that threatened to drive him insane.

The voices seemed to change, too, as he got sucked in further ... they became more malevolent, more breathy or rasping or high-pitched or harshly low, more extremes. Their words fell to doom-filled omens, then to obscenities that made even Zaknafein's skin crawl. He was aware he was shaking now, shaking with fear that this litany would finally be the wedge that would drive him off the precipice into madness, the precipice that all drow tread precariously, shaking with anger that he was helpless to do anything.

My name is Zaknafein Do'Urden of House Daermon N'a'shezbaernon...

Zaknafein recited his own litany of words, both out loud and in his mind, grimly keeping a grip on his self, and ultimately, his mind.

I was born four centuries and two-and-sixty years ago...

And he continued, dredging up the details of his life, his existence, until he was aware he was shouting out the words. The volume of the voices got louder, as though trying to drown out his words, but his own voice got wilder and more triumphant as he realized his own fear was slipping away, that even the awful recital of his life and the pulling up of memories he would rather have forgotten was helping him, revitalizing him...

The voices were definitely louder, though they continued in their soft-loud-soft-loud pattern, they were guttural now, snarling and growling, as if torn from unnatural throats. Now they spoke of torture and pain and death, and his doom ... Zaknafein felt that his spirit might be crushed under the words as he heard his doom foretold in a thousand ways, in a thousand futures, a thousand possibilities...

He found he was screaming one phrase over and over now, "I am Zaknafein Do'Urden! I am Zaknafein Do'Urden!"

Then one voice seemed to cut through all the rest, including his own, about to become hoarse one.

So you are.

Now there seemed to be another force pulling him in another way, and Zaknafein felt an overwhelming, dizzy sense of relief as he now shot upwards, followed by a lurching feeling in his stomach that he was moving way too fast for his own good.

***

"Damn," Tulan said with feeling, as Zaknafein abruptly disappeared. A sudden rage welled up inside him, and the wailing notes of the violin squealed now, as it barely in harmony. He felt the familiar feeling as what he referred to, as his soul's music seemed to rise up, and merge with the harmony on the instrument. No, not merging ... more like a sweet counterpoint that put even his expert playing to shame.

The Vizaner, also known as White Fan, screamed as he smashed forcefully into the closest wall. Tulan began to play the same chords over and over again, harder and harder.

A major ... A major ... A major...

The Vizaner tried to engage magic to disturb him, but anger lent him immense energy and the fireballs and poisonous venom merely burned off on his madly blazing shield of some sort of transparent flame.

He was going to get a headache for his efforts later...

Finally he picked up the white fan fastidiously from the bloody, pulpy mess on the ground and the wall, then stalked out of the compound. None tried to stop him.

"Damn you, Zaknafein," he muttered, looking at the stained fan. "Why didn't you listen?"

He was going to have to call in some favors ... after he tried a bit of scrying. Scrying gave him a mild impression that he was trying to look at the inside of his eyeballs for a while after he did it, but it would be necessary...now to find somewhere safe.

Tulan was intensely aware that if he went back to the Hall and his scrying mirror, he wouldn't be able to get out again. However, for him, scrying without a magical device would expend a lot of energy.

He needed a safe place to meditate, and quickly. Zaknafein had been blown away to some sort of Limbo where the other victims of the ancient white fan supposedly were, and Tulan was very sure, somehow, that it would not be a very pleasant ordeal.

***

Ellyn had no idea how long she sat on her bed, staring not exactly into space but actually at the calendar on her wall, though not focusing.

She fingered the white sunflower in her hands, as her thoughts raced from the impossible to the practical, then finally to a numbing nothing. From downstairs, there was a relatively low level of sound ... enough to be drowned out by the music. When her CD ran out, she absently switched it to the radio before returning to her dreamy contemplation.

Ash said he would help. But how?

The sudden thought of Ash towing a knight in shining armor and a white charger made Ellyn giggle. She savored the sound ... she laughed so little now that it seemed a little alien to her.

No, I doubt he would do that. And anyway, I'm very sure all that armor stinks, is cold, and the horse...

Hey, given a choice between knight and horse, she'd choose the horse. Ellyn loved horses, not in a way that made her thirst for those sort of knowledge like what pedigree, what anatomy, but in a fierce, wild way ... horses always seemed so free, the children of fortune, no matter what their lot in life.

Well, okay, if the knight was capable of intelligent conversation, liked Savage Garden, was sensitive, sympathetic, incredibly handsome, and with a great sense of humor, and...

Yeah, girl. If he were a knight, even your first condition would probably be rather moot. I mean, those people wear things that make them look like tin cans all day, and go around fighting dragons, for pity's sake. One thing that iron armor is good for is a good conductor of heat...

The image of a large dragon toasting a knight challenger, along with witty dialogue from the dragon and monosyllabic ones from the knight was enough to make her chuckle.

My word, I'm beginning to amuse myself. Time to call the loony bin.

The second last condition could be applicable, but marrying someone whom was very handsome, but cruel, stupid, and as sensitive as a block of wood...you might as well marry the horse. At least it won't spend your money carelessly, and given your normal horse, it'd rather run away from dragons than try and fight them in heat conducting armor. And beauty fades with age.

Oh no, now I'm following up possibilities even though the possibilities themselves are so remote as to be laughable.

What if Ash brought some sort of magical artifact? Maybe a wand, or some kind of staff, all gnarled wood and tingling with power...or wait, why not even a sword?

But what use would those be? Magic won't help her predicament ... Ash had hammered that in hard enough for it to stick. Unless it would be something to allow her to travel the worlds...

Would she want to do that? Walk by herself in some sort of worlds where monsters ran rampant, no toilets, not even a roof over your head at night, or even proper meals?

Ellyn was a practical girl. Although 'adventuring' had such a romantic meaning to it, she was deeply aware after Outward Bound school that it involved being damp, bitten by millions of mosquitoes, disturbances like wild dogs fighting over the garbage hastily strung up in a tree, same wild dogs sniffing at feet and piddling over the shoes, food hurriedly 'cooked' over driftwood. Till today, she could not believe they mixed soup extract into the rice, added water, and ate the thing like flavored porridge, and wasn't sick after that. And the tinned curry that had charred bits in it, as well...and she also couldn't believe that she had used the toilet facilities in their camp, e.g. the open sea.

Never let your expedition leader, who had spent most of the harrowing day directing and leading several teams of thirteen over unknown land with only the remote guidance of the instructors, go near the food in preparation. It's bound to be done haphazardly, especially if your leader is the sort who goes "That looks fun, let me try!"

Hey, how did she get over to this deviation?

Still...she hoped Ash knew what he was doing. Wherever he was. If he remembered his promise...oh no. What if she wasn't 'open' anymore, so he couldn't contact her? What if he had forgotten, or got seriously into trouble because of her?

Fret not, lass.

"Ash!" Ellyn was aware that her voice sounded embarrassingly relieved. "Hey. How long did you listen until you spoke up?"

Quite a while, lass. It has been most educational. I thought you enjoyed Outward Bound school?

"I just don't like the two day expedition," Ellyn spoke her standard reply until she realized in full what he had said. "Why, you..."

Lass, ah, sweet child...help is on the way.

"What sort of help?" Ellyn said suspiciously.

The best sort ... the one that requires help by itself at first, so it would owe you a debt. You would take it from there, I would believe.

"What help would it need?" Ellyn demanded.

That would be obvious when you see him.

"Him?" Earlier visions of Ash towing a knight in shining armor surfaced, although now in them Ellyn was holding several lengths of bandages.

You have no idea how far that is from the truth, child.

Ellyn had a deep feeling that Ash was laughing his head off, or whatever was the spiritual equivalent. "When is this 'help' coming?"

Any time now. Lass, look out of the window and tell me what you see.

Obediently, Ellyn twitched back the curtains and peered out.

The sky was depressingly bright blue. However, instead of being able to see to her neighbor's house...

Something like a cloud had formed ten feet above the garden. Ellyn labeled it cloud because it had wispy edges, and continuously swirled and moved sluggishly as if in the wind. However, it was predominantly blue-purple-gold-red, angry colors that clashed and twisted in streams as if trying to choke each other.

Another way of describing it, Ellyn decided with a dazed feeling, would be nearly insubstantial, writhing, rabid eels.

She realized she wasn't the only thing watching the clouds. Chaos sat directly under it, looking up at the thing with a hypnotic intensity.

For a better explanation, Chaos was the neighborhood tom, which claimed their garden (and most of the estate) as his undisputed territory. As large as a terrier and as fierce as...well, Chaos was the fiercest creature Ellyn had met so far. Other cats moved quickly out of his way then washed themselves at a safe distance. This was significant, because usually cats seemed to trust each other not to interrupt in their toilettes. Dogs seemed to find pressing business in the opposite direction.

Chaos was black, with yellow eyes, matted fur, and rather tattered ears. There were probably scars somewhere, but all that fur seemed to have caked together long ago to form some sort of armor. Occasionally what seemed at first sight to be an itinerant shadow would turn out to be Chaos, stalking a vole.

Chaos was her pet name for him. The rest of the neighborhood called him That Cat, and left it at that.

Still...from this distance, Chaos seemed rather worried. His tail was twitching.

Ellyn was out of her room and downstairs into the garden as quickly as she could move. The cloud was still there, though the 'streams' moved faster now, as if coming to some sort of conclusion.

There was an unpleasant, scratching noise, and then a figure hurtled down from the center of the cloud, elbow landing unfortunately and accurately on Chaos' back.

The next few moments were rather crowded.

Later, Ellyn remembered them in this sequence: the cloud had funneled violently until it resembled half of a miniature tornado going back to the heavens, then disappeared into wisps of color that eventually faded. Chaos was predictably not amused by this sudden assault on his person, and attacked the newcomer, claws out, scratching into the person's arm. The person let out a roar of pain and swatted at the cat with one hand, somehow with enough force to send the tomcat rolling.

Chaos got up and hissed, then abruptly stalked away behind Ellyn and started to wash himself. A few dazed microseconds later and Ellyn realized why.

The newcomer was wearing some outlandish clothing that Ellyn recognized, with a thrill, as armor, complete with a cloak of some sort of weird design. He had a huge iron scabbard strapped to his belt, and his hands held two swords, blood-stained.

That was the least weird thing about him. The person had very black skin, blacker than anyone Ellyn had ever seen, even Thomas in the football team. He wasn't very tall, but was muscular, and had long, stark white hair and dark eyes that were keenly intelligent. His ears tapered to a point. Ellyn frowned, then remembered a term for people with pointy ears ... elf. His hands ended in something strongly resembling cat's paws, complete with wicked claws.

My god, he's gorgeous.

Ellyn grimaced. That's not important. What is important is that he's 1) Not human, 2) hurt, 3) probably my ticket out of this place.

Yeah? Well, just look at that build. Even Jason the basketball captain would be envious...and those eyelashes...shutupshutupshutup.

The elf looked at her warily, then down at Chaos, then back at her. The swords seemed to go into some sort of defensive position.

"Hello," she said weakly, decided that was an intensely stupid thing to say, then bit her lip. Ash? I'd like some help here, please.

Worry not, lass. He can speak Human.

Ellyn was going to ask what other tongues there were, when the elf started to speak, hesitantly in which 'Human' seemed unfamiliar to him.

Apparently basic 'Human' was 'English'.

"Greetings," the elf said shortly. "I believe this is a very bad question to ask in these sort of circumstances, but where am I?"

Tell him he's not Underhill.

"Ash says you're not Underhill," Ellyn said. What's Underhill?

Underhill is the place of magic, lass.

"And who is this 'Ash'?" the elf asked.

Tell him I am he who pulled him out of the Voices.

"Um." Ellyn responded, feeling rather redundant. "Ash says he pulled you out of the voices."

"For what purpose?" the elf demanded.

He is full of questions.

"You are full of...wait, I don't want to say that," Ellyn stopped herself in time, feeling irritatingly flustered. "I think."

"So I am in the human world?" the elf said warily. At least he didn't seem to notice. "Tu...that is, an acquaintance of mine did mention something about this place."

"Um. If you mean whether you are on Earth, yes, you are," Ellyn said, wishing she could come up with something witty to say. "Look, are you going back to the Underhill?"

"If I can find a way," the elf shrugged. "I was told there are few enough of elves on this world, and they would be hard to find."

Tell him that to repay his debt to me he is to take you with him when he goes.

"Ash says that you owe him one, and you're to take me with you when you go to this Underhill," Ellyn repeated dutifully if a little inconsistently, then smiled slowly. Thanks, Ash.

"Does no one do favors out of the goodness of their hearts?" the elf sighed. "What is stopping me from leaving you right now to get on with my business?"

Tell him that he has no idea where to find a way back to the Underhill by himself, he is very conspicuous on your world without help, and the nearest available Gate is Seleighe.

Ellyn repeated this, and the elf frowned; though he did not budge from his stance.

"That is possibly true," he said coldly. "Though how am I supposed to know if there are any ulterior motives in this case?"

Ellyn didn't need Ash to answer this. "What sort of motives? If you're talking about giving me your soul, well, I don't have any need for souls, or blood, or those kinds of things. I'm a normal human girl ... not some sort of demon sorceress. All I want is to find magic...and leave this place eventually. I don't know of any sort of 'quest' I can dump you on, and if you're psychic or something, I'm even open to the idea of you probing to see if I'm lying."

The elf stared at her, then shrugged. "It is not as though I have much to lose," he muttered.

That sounded remarkably like an insult, but Ellyn decided to overlook it for the time being. "You're hurt...and if my neighbors see you they'd probably call the police. You had better come in."

"I'll heal," the elf commented, but followed her into the house. Thankfully her father was out in the living room drinking, so she was able to lead him up the staircase into her room and close the door. She looked through her cupboard until she found a rag, then handed it to him.

He looked at it as if it was a snake, then gave her a curious glance.

"Wipe the swords," Ellyn said patiently. The elf shrugged, then took the cloth from her.

"My name is Ellyn," Ellyn said, now feeling as though she was talking to a brick wall. The elf made a noncommittal noise. This wasn't going as she would have expected, but if there was a way out of this world...There was a loud crash from downstairs, and the sound of glass breaking. The elf started visibly then raised an eyebrow.

"What you have just heard," Ellyn said with a trace of bitterness, "was my father finishing his bottle for today, losing his temper or something, and throwing it at the wall, where I would have to sweep up later."

He gave her a puzzled look, then touched the seat of the chair in the room before sitting down.

"What is your name?" Ellyn inquired, out of a lack of things to say. Ash, how are we supposed to help him back to this 'Underhill', anyway?

When it gets dark enough, walk him over to the field... oh, and get some of your mother's silk dresses.

But I hate those dresses!

Silly lass, they're not for you to wear.

The elf paused from the cleaning of his swords, stared at her, then shrugged. "Zaknafein."

Chapter 7: Madrek the Red

You'd have to wrap up the sword in a lot of silk. The iron one, that is. Can you remember? It'd be important.

"Sure, Ash," Ellyn said out loud before she realized it, then grinned sheepishly. "Sorry. I was talking to my friend."

The elf shrugged gracefully. He had, so far, declined food, tea, bandages, medicine, and now conversation. Ellyn sighed inwardly, then sat on her bed. Her first chance to talk to a representative from magic...and the fellow wasn't cooperating. It wasn't very fair.

Ellyn had envisioned, actually, the elf telling her about himself and enough about this world ... like whether unicorns existed there, whether there were other languages, what kind of magic, how did he get hurt...but right now, all the elf had said was his name, and a mild question on where to put the soiled cloth.

This was not going as planned.

All the books she had read so far ... the urban fantasies ... usually the 'magical creatures' were more than happy to speak about magic. Even if there were rules against it or they usually slipped up so the human could guess, confront them with it, and make them confess. Sometimes when they spoke about it said human got hysterical, but Ellyn had steeled herself against any shock. She now felt rather let down.

The elf ... Zaknafein ... had accepted complacently that he was to stay in the room until night, where they would go somewhere. Apparently he had somehow concluded that she was harmless.

Ellyn felt irritated by that, but there wasn't much she could do. Zaknafein now looked as though he was half-asleep. His eyes were closed, but if she made some move like to turn on the air-conditioner, she would look up to find him watching her warily. It was almost as though he had some sort of internal radar that encompassed the entire room.

Lass? I suggest you pack. Sun sets in three hours.

An eminently practical suggestion. Ellyn had always felt that those...heroes, or to be fair, heroines who went gallivanting off into adventures were quite stupid. If they packed, they didn't pack the right things...yes, for food usually biscuits. Can one survive on biscuits? No. Clothing ... nil. They all seemed to wear the same sort of clothing each day. Money ... yes, then they'd find it doesn't have much use. Still, Ellyn found that money, even if useless, was comforting to have around. One would never know.

Zaknafein was definitely watching her now, as she fumbled in the cupboards noisily until she located her duffel bag. She currently wore jeans and a loose black shirt ... it had a silly logo: Perfect in Black. Ellyn liked black, but was also aware that although it didn't show stains, it attracted lint very obviously. Too many days in a black shirt and she'd look like a fleeced black-skinned sheep.

There might be a chance of actually being able to wash the clothes later, but she just packed a few in case, along with her track pants...went downstairs, and found some canned food. She was in the process of taking them out when she 'heard' an amused chuckle.

Lass ... you won't need that much, and they'd weigh you down.

"So what do you think I should get?" Ellyn said, a little annoyed at his tone.

Clothes, maybe some CDs, maybe a few books...

"That is hardly essential," Ellyn retorted. "And our elf friend seems as though he'd be more than happy, once we reach this 'Underhill', to leave me to my devices."

So he will...but I have made arrangements.

"Why are you doing this, Ash?" Ellyn frowned. "I mean, what have I ever done for you except talk to you?"

That in itself is reward itself.

"I don't believe you," Ellyn said bluntly.

Ah, you are still young enough to know everything. Very well ... I once lived in this house, and my parents once...resembled yours. I had help, then ... Seleighe help...I died a sorcerer, and hence became a ghost, but since I died here, I would be tied here. I have wandered this world for very long ... long enough for cars to replace the horses that once trod the streets.

Ellyn blinked. "That's...before the car? Oh my."

I was not a very popular sorcerer, you could say. Some Seleighe still view me as a traitor, for having Unseleighe friends...but that is over now. Lass ... believe me when I say life is damnably short. You should make the most of it.

"Now you sound like my mother," Ellyn growled.

Sometimes that woman speaks sense.

Ellyn chuckled at Ash's flippant tone, then returned upstairs. Zaknafein looked up when she opened the door then to all appearances fell asleep again.

She was tempted to do something really noisy...

Ellyn sighed, and tried to decide which possessions to bring along.

***

Tulan Gated himself out of the Underhill, something that took so much effort out of him that for a moment he leant against a fence, gasping for breath, before remembering to play a tune that would render him nearly invisible. It was quite a common spell ... encouraging people to think he wasn't there.

There were probably better variants, but now Tulan had to concentrate on dodging people whom, since they thought he wasn't there, would probably walk right over him.

The human world, Tulan found, had changed immensely since he had past been there. Come to think of it, the last time he had been on the world, humans had been one of the minority species.

Right now ... he had been warned, and he had seen pictures and watched television, but the sheer presence of the place was nearly overwhelming. Cars shot over the roads, faster than horses. Everything here looked so controlled ... concrete pavements, tarred roads, thin trees in allotted places ... and houses, all around him.

Tulan grimaced. This place had once been open grassland, with bison wandered around. He liked not this change ... but the creature from whom he needed help stayed around here...last he had heard.

Finally he located the house ... one of many nondescript terrace houses on a pleasant enough, quiet neighborhood. There was a human girl of around five years of age sitting on the steps, a doll in her lap, and a plate before her of biscuits. Pink plastic cups sat before another doll, herself, and the object of Tulan's search ... a handsome Siamese cat.

The girl seemed to be, with all seriousness, serving the dolls and the cat water in a garish plastic teapot, bright yellow with a picture of a flower on either side. She spoke a dialogue as she went on -...apparently the cat was Mr. Tom (unsurprisingly), and the doll Miss Avery...another Miss Jane...Tulan watched, morbidly fascinated, as the girl seemed to recite an entire conversation by herself.

Finally he went up to the steps and said, "Psst."

The cat peered lazily at him. For a moment the brilliant blue eyes widened, then settled back to their half-lidded position.

The girl, Tulan noted with a start, stared straight at him. "Hello. Who are you?"

"Er." Tulan blinked. She could see him? "I'm Mr. Tom's friend," he said maliciously, and was pleased to see the cat wince slightly. "I'd like to speak to him for a moment, if you don't mind."

"Sure," the girl said, "If he wants to. Do you know, you're the first person so far who really treats him nice? Mom thinks he can't talk, I can see. And why do you have black skin?"

"I was born with it," Tulan said with a smile. "Mr. Tom?"

The Siamese bounded down the steps, then up onto the banister facing Tulan, then fixed him with a furious look. "What is it now, Tulan?" A perfectly human voice came out of the cat's mouth.

"I need your help, Madrek." Tulan said calmly. "Say, why'd you let her call you Mr. Tom? It's a very cute name, mind," he added with a wicked grin.

"Ah, shut your gob," the cat muttered. "Lizzie's a nice girl, though I have serious doubts sometimes about her mental capabilities. What kind of help? You of all people should know I'm retired."

"As a housecat of Mr. Tom who attends fake tea parties," Tulan couldn't help it.

"Look, Tulan," the cat growled, "Cat or no, I'm a greater mage than you are, kiddo. And more than three times your age. I recognize I owe you one, but if you continue bringing up all that with me, I intend to change you into a gerbil and give you to Lizzie. Maybe she'd make you wear that pink polka-dot doll's dress ... I know she was disappointed since I was several sizes too big for it."

"All right, all right," Tulan grinned. "Ok, I need you to take me to one person called Zaknafein Do'Urden, then Gate us back to Underhill..."

"Hey, slow down, kid," Madrek raised a paw. "First, I have no idea where this Zaknafein is..."

"Do you know this, Madrek?" Tulan took out the fan from his bag.

"Yeah, sure. I used to own it once, remember?" Madrek twitched his whiskers. "You mean this 'Zaknafein' got blown off by that fan?"

"In a nutshell," Tulan admitted.

"Right." The cat closed his eyes, and his tail wagged shortly from side to side.

Tulan became aware of someone pulling on his trousers, and he looked down. Lizzie stared back up at him, eyes shining with trust.

"Will Mr. Tom be done soon?" she asked innocently. "The tea's getting cold."

"Sure he will, girl," Tulan tried to smile reassuringly.

"Why's his tail doing that? Is he going to be sick?" Lizzie asked solemnly.

"No, he's not," Tulan said, "He's just helping me find someone."

"Oh." Lizzie seemed to have the normal short attention span of human children, and she turned to look at his violin. "Can you play that?"

"Sure. Do you want to listen to a piece?" Tulan grinned.

"Um. What about 'Baa-baa-black-sheep'?" she said in all seriousness.

Tulan, who had been gearing to play one of Strauss' waltzes, blinked, then frowned. "I don't think I know that one," he said cautiously.

"But everyone knows how that goes," Lizzie said stubbornly. "Baa, baa, black sheep, have you any wool? And so on."

"Why don't you sing it once for me, and I'd play it for you?" Tulan sighed. If he humored Madrek's friend, maybe he'd be more helpful. And besides, he was curious as to why the girl could see him.

Lizzie did so, dutifully, and he rested his violin on his shoulder and began to play. It was a simple tune, so Tulan added a countermelody as he went on, more chords and more subtle nuances until the child's song became a miniature masterpiece in its right.

Lizzie listened solemnly, then gave her opinion, "I liked the original better."

Tulan bit his lip quickly to try and remind himself that Lizzie was Madek's charge, then glanced at Madrek. The cat seemed to have a smirk plastered on its perfect cream-brown feline features.

"That was one of the better versions of that childish song I've heard so far," the cat acknowledged dryly.

"The original's nicer," Lizzie insisted, and began to sing it again as if to drive in the point.

"Have you found him?" Tulan said quickly.

"Some time ago a newcomer was sucked there, but was pulled out," Madrek said. "Into this world."

"Oh, great," Tulan muttered. "I can't scry him with this much iron around here now."

I know where he is.

Tulan whirled, to see a very familiar personage, semi-transparent, floating several feet off the ground in a cross-legged position, hawk wings folded behind him.

Oh, hello, Madrek, Lizzie.

"Hello, Mr. Ash," Lizzie said solemnly. "Would you like some Tea?"

Not today, Lizzie. Why don't you go and play with your dolls for a while? I have to speak with Madrek and Tulan.

Lizzie bobbed her mouse brown haired head, then wandered back up the stairs.

A very nice child, that one.

"Where is he, Ashalon?" Tulan demanded.

Do not worry, Tulan. I merely pulled him to my Focus.

"In the middle of all the humans?" Madrek inquired.

There is a girl there who is a friend. She has been keeping his presence a secret quite well, it would appear.

"Right," Tulan said decisively. "Madrek, Gate me there, then Gate us out, will you?"

At nightfall, they will go to an open field. I have instructed the girl ... Ellyn ... to help cover up the iron sword.

"Ash, why are you helping me in this?" Tulan asked, "I mean, I'm quite sure you were the one who pulled him out of Limbo...and I already owe you a favor quite a while back."

Exactly, Tulan. I am calling in the favor.

"This is finally becoming interesting," Madrek commented, lashing his tail.

When you Gate back Underhill, you are to take Ellyn with you, and treat her like your younger sister...give her room and such in your Hall, care for her.

"If I recall, Tulan killed his younger sister," Madrek said wryly.

"Vairn Challenged me," Tulan said defensively.

I quite forgot that. Ash sounded amused. But I believe you know what I mean.

"Yes, I do," Tulan said dryly. "You want me to be this girl's 'guardian' until some interminable time. Why, Ash? You weren't the type who went around with all these sob cases, even when you were alive."

Let us say that I myself care for this girl. Her parents are divorcing, and she is deeply in need of a better home right now.

"Care, Ash? Forgotten Miska already, have you?" Madrek purred.

Not in that way, Madrek ... I will never forget Miska. Perhaps you could say I treat Ellyn as the child I never had.

"This is making me sick, and I'm a Bard," Tulan muttered. "All right, Ash. You win. The Hall has enough rooms, anyway ... so long as she's not like Lizzie."

"Hey, don't say that about Lizzie..." Madrek hissed.

Ellyn is fifteen.

"The worst age," Tulan sighed.

"I thought that the worst age was sweet sixteen," Madrek commented.

"Whatever," Tulan rolled his eyes. "All right. Night, you say?"

Her house is in a considerably more populated place than here. Even in the day, the field has people. It has to be night.

"Ok. So what am I supposed to do in the time being? I can't Gate back to Underhill ... I don't have enough energy. And Madrek might just decide to forget about me if he pushes me back there." Tulan said.

"Well..." Madrek said, washing his paw daintily, "You can have tea."

Tulan glanced at Ash.

I do not have much to do either.

"Oh, all right," Tulan muttered, watching Madrek jump lightly off and pad back up to his place near the plate.

"Visitors, Mr. Tom?" Lizzie asked carelessly, looking at them. "I don't think I have enough cups..."

"That's all right," Tulan said in relief, sitting down on the steps. "I'm not really thirsty."

"Oh no, Mum says you always must be courteous to people." Lizzie looked worried.

Madrek shot Tulan a malicious look, then batted an eyelid. A cup materialized near Lizzie ... a replica of the pink plastic ones.

"Thanks, Mr. Tom," Lizzie said happily. "Will Mr. Ash want any tea?"

Sorry, Lizzie, but I have to leave. Fare thee well. That sounded, to Tulan, a little too quick.

Lizzie giggled as Ashalon vanished. "He always speaks funny," she confided.

"Madrek," Tulan commented, after he listened for a while why Mr. Bunny always liked autumn leaves, "How come she can see me? I didn't feel you letting her in on borrowed Sight."

"She has the Sight herself," Madrek said, frowning at the water in his cup until it turned into a bright, amber liquid Tulan recognized as the finest Viscari wine.

"Really," Tulan looked more closely at the girl.

"A strange lass," Madrek agreed, "But she does have potential to become a greater mage even than this 'Tannim' I hear of sometimes now."

"Oh, the human mage of Fairgrove?" Tulan said carelessly. "He doesn't seem much. He was nearly killed by Charcoal some time ago, if I remember."

"So he was," Madrek delicately lapped the priceless liquid. "That does not mean he has deficient powers. He has recently been engaged to the nine-tailed kitsune, if I remember."

"Lady Ako's daughter," Tulan nodded. "Odd in itself. Kitsune do not involve themselves with mortals, as a rule."

"Ah, but a half nine-tailed fox, half dragon?" Madrek purred. "Anything is possible, Tulan."

"I always meant to ask you," Tulan said slowly. Lizzie didn't seem to be paying much attention. "Why a cat?"

"Just because I am an elf doesn't mean I liked being an elf," Madrek chuckled. "The fur's been magicked to shield me from Cold Iron's influences, and I just like being a cat."

"Once the most powerful sorcerer in all of Underhill, now living as a cat in a human household?" Tulan inquired dryly. "Why not conquer a domain and make it into some paradise?"

"Ah," Madrek stretched. "You are as yet too young to understand very well. Eternal life bores me. Eternal pleasure eventually fades. A cat has simple pleasures ... each bowl of milk is a small heaven...the world is so open when I am a cat ... each alley, each tree, each fence."

"But a cat! Why not an eagle, or a wolf..." Tulan pressed.

"Because as a cat...well, a cat is quite a popular household creature. If I were some sort of dog, I'd have to grovel and whine all day around my owner's feet. A cat has a purr. Somehow humans keep trying to please a cat just so that the cat will be pleased...oh, they think the cat loves them, but what the cat loves is a territory, care, and a regular food supply." Madrek curled his paws under him.

"It seems so much like a letdown," Tulan grinned.

"Tulan, Tulan," Madrek sighed. "If I had built a palace greater than the Katschei, I'd be flooded with trouble. Requests for help, challenges, all that...just because I am the greatest." The cat said this with no hint of pride. "As a cat...well, most people don't believe that the greatest born sorcerer is a Siamese cat in a human home. So most think I am a legend ... and legends are hard to break, are they? I prefer to leave things as they stand, Tulan. This way, I can keep my title without much effort."

There could only be seven living Sorcerer Adepts at one time, Tulan remembered. Which was why they always kept fighting other sorcerers who wanted their title.

"Maybe what you say actually has some logic," Tulan mused. "But I won't like to be a cat..."

"You are young, and your life is before you," Madrek said. "I am old, and my time of adventures and high living is long past. Enjoy your life, Tulan, because if it ever loses any of its pleasure...well, there's always a spot in front of the fireplace here for you if you require it."

"Generous offer, Madrek," Tulan grinned wryly.

Madrek chuckled. "I am getting soft in my age."

"Honey," A human woman opened the door, and smiled benevolently on Lizzie. "Dinnertime."

"Yes Mum," Lizzie said, beginning to clear up the things. "Mum, Mr. Tom has a friend called Mr. Tulan. He plays the violin." She pointed at him, and he held his breath.

He needn't have feared. The woman looked vaguely at him, then nodded at her daughter. "Well, if he's Mr. Tom's friend then he's welcome," she said, obviously trying to humor Lizzie, and just as obviously not seeing him. "Just don't expect him to have a seat at the table, dear."

"Ok Mum," Lizzie said happily.

***

Ellyn put down the duffel bag, though leaving the other one slung on her shoulder. She sat on the bag, and prepared to wait.

Zaknafein held his iron sword, the other swords slipped into his belt. The sword was so wrapped in silk that it resembled some monstrous cocoon. He stood calmly, though occasionally looking up into he night sky as if in wonder.

It wasn't a full moon as Ellyn had secretly hoped ... more like a three-quarter, sloppy work.

Lass...help is on the way.

No sooner had Ash said this when a door suddenly appeared in front of her. No sounds, or any other warning ... one moment it wasn't there, then it was.

The door was white-painted wood with an ordinary doorknob, most unremarkable except for the stuffed toy dog hanging rather forlornly to the doorknob.

The door opened, to show...yet another elf, also dark skinned, but also with black hair and clothing of the same hue. He looked straight at Zak and smiled in relief.

"Greetings, Tulan," Zaknafein said shortly. "Thought you'd find me."

"Hello, Zak," Tulan nodded, then looked curiously at her. "And you must be Ellyn."

Ellyn nodded dumbly.

"Well, come on, then," Tulan beckoned. Feeling rather self-conscious, Ellyn picked up the duffel bag and followed Zak through the door.

They were in what looked like a small girl's room. It was predominantly pink and frilly, and nearly full of stuffed toys. The owner of the room sat seriously on the bed, holding a Siamese cat.

The cat purred once, then the door swung shut silently.

"Ellyn, is it?" the cat said. Ellyn's eyes widened, and then she smiled and bowed in the cat's direction, refusing to be shocked.

"My name is Madrek the Red, Sorcerer Adept, once of Elfhame Alderwood," the cat nodded acknowledgement. "This...is Elizabeth."

"Hello," the girl said shyly.

"The elf all in black is Tulan the Black Bard," Madrek continued. "Ash arranged for you to go with him."

"Eh?" Zaknafein blinked.

"I owe Ash a big favor," Tulan said as if by explanation. Zaknafein shrugged, then hefted the silk bundle.

"Did you get the Vizaner?" he inquired thoughtfully.

Tulan nodded. "I got the fan, too. Now, girl ... cards on the table. I occasionally play music, perform 'black' magic, and kill people. My friend here," he nodded at Zak, "practices with his weapons, is rather annoying..."

"I try," Zak grinned wolfishly.

"And likes to watch MTV all day in a very high volume, or some other lurid channel," Tulan continued. "He also kills people sometimes, especially when we're paid to 'do in' someone. Now, if this shocks you, I think I can arrange for..."

"It doesn't shock me," Ellyn said with a small smile. "I expected worse, somehow."

"Bathing in the blood of virgins?" Tulan raised an eyebrow. "That's disgusting. You'd get even dirtier. Not even vampires do that, Ellyn ... and I should know. One of my very good friends is a vampire."

"You read minds?" Ellyn blinked.

"Unfortunately," Zak said cheerfully. Zaknafein seemed to have a better attitude to her now that he seemed to understand where she stood.

"Now, can you lot finish this getting-to-know each other thing in the Hall?" Madrek said crossly. "It's nearly time for my supper, and I still have to Gate you Underhill. Any specific location?"

"My Hall, please," Tulan said with a courteous bow.

"After this, we're quits, understand?" Madrek said.

"Whatever you say, Mr. Tom," Tulan sniggered.

Madrek glared at him, then stared fixedly at the door for a few moments. Then the door swung open again, as if in front of an incredibly beautiful (to Ellyn) mansion.

"Out," snapped the cat.

Tulan grinned, then wordlessly took Ellyn's heavy duffel bag. She followed them through the door, which swung shut and vanished behind them.

Chapter 8: Hall of the Black Bard

"Wow," Ellyn said, eyes shining as she drank in the sight. A real mansion like those English ones found more commonly in Victorian periods! And a swimming pool!

"It is beautiful, is it not?" Tulan grinned with careless insouciance.

Zaknafein shot him a withering look, already walking towards the doorway.

"Ah, those without poetry in their hearts cannot appreciate beauty," Tulan called at Zak's back.

Zak spun like a striking snake, the two swords already drawn, then whirled into what Ellyn could only call a dance, graceful yet fierce, swift yet smooth, some moves so quick that the eye could not follow without watering painfully. Then the elf twirled into a kneeling position, both hands touching the graveled courtyard so that the swords angled up neatly at either side, and smiled a mocking smile.

Delighted with the display, Ellyn laughed, and clapped enthusiastically.

"Your idea of beauty is different from mine," Zak said shortly, getting up, bowed slightly at Ellyn, and then sheathing the swords delicately at his belt before continuing toward the large oak doors.

"Sometimes he surprises me," Tulan confided. "Right, I suppose I'd show you where the rooms are, then you can choose one. I'd have to explain quite a bit about the Hall, anyway...later."

Ellyn was hardly listening. The wooden doors opened into a marvelous chamber like that of throne rooms she had only seen in movies. Graceful columns supported an upper floor, the railings obviously a single piece of metal, in the design of a black serpent-like, wingless dragon, stark against the chamber room's fiery colors.

A golden retriever, quite out of place, nevertheless ran happily to Tulan, wagging its tail and licking the elf's hands enthusiastically, before sniffing her curiously and then giving her a wet lick. It bounded back to Tulan's side, bushy tail waving.

Rich tapestries hung from the walls, showing creatures of fantasy ... griffins, chimeras, unicorns, a cockatrice, in colors comfortable to the eyes, set with semi-precious stones. Weapons that looked impossible to actually wield also hung from the walls ... here a broadsword and a shield, there an axe, a halberd...

"Weapons of the vanquished," Tulan said dryly, "An affectation of the Hall's previous owner. The charming plaques below each display bears the flamboyant names of all the nobility that came through these doors...and left vertically, I'm afraid. Dead," he said rather gleefully to Ellyn's frown. The floor, she realized rather numbly, was one gigantic mosaic, each tile as small as a fingernail.

The audience room seemed as though it would have been larger than the mansion, so cunningly had it been constructed ... with windows and mirrors and generous patterns. At the end of the room, on a raised platform, was a throne hewn of a single block of emerald, the only piece of furniture in the large room. Black roses, open in full, luscious bloom, draped the back and top of the throne, stemming impossibly from the dark marble platform, rich velvet sable on vibrant emerald leaves.

"The roses appeared after I came," Tulan said with pride, "I think the Hall adds a new 'layer' of personality to this room whenever it acquires a new Master, but other than that, this room can't be changed."

Behind the throne itself was a massive tapestry larger than the others, depicting a stylized dark elf, holding a violin and its bow, rapier by the side. The likeness was incredible, Ellyn decided, looking at her companion quickly as though convinced for a moment that he had entered the tapestry.

That tapestry was set in fiery precious gems, not paltry, cut diamonds or rubies, but brilliant stones which Ellyn had never seen before, that flared and dimmed with their own peculiar fires.

"They're from the Underhill," Tulan explained at her question, "Earth has a small selection of the worthless little beauties as compared to Underhill."

"Worthless!" Ellyn blinked.

"In the most basic sense," Tulan chuckled, "You don't have to look so shocked, my dear. To a Bardic mage, gems are truly without value, since we can make our own."

Twin staircases curled down on either side of the throne, contrasting its soft edge of roses sharply with the hewn stairs of polished wood. The staircases were also large, even larger than some that Ellyn had seen in hotel lobbies.

The center of each staircase, predictably, held a heavy crimson carpet, undecorated. The plainness of the staircases ... even their balustrades lacked intricate designs ... served cunningly to play out the throne's splendor even more.

Obscured by the staircases were two doors, one with a gleaming brass plate with the rune meaning 'Armory', and the other, unmarked, Tulan said vaguely to be the kitchen and the storeroom, 'among others'.

"I never use this place any more," Tulan said, leading her up the soft carpets, "Where I truly live is upstairs. Why, once I didn't even step into this chamber for three years. There are other staircases to the ground floor, and other doors outside. However, Zaknafein insists on using the space for the occasional sword practice ... I'm sure he does it to annoy me. Those tiles are so fragile ... and practicing in the outside is so much more practical."

"He's quite good with them, isn't he?" Ellyn felt rather self conscious about talking about Zak in this way, but the other elf seemed to have disappeared up the staircase, "With the swords, I mean. And with the paws, too."

"He's had more than four centuries of practice," Tulan shrugged, "I am quite sure he'd manage. I, on the other hand, have devoted more of my life to music...and magic. The two greatest arts of all, in my opinion."

Ellyn said nothing. Four centuries!

The staircases led to the balcony over the audience chamber, of the same rich-hued wood as the stairs. Joined to the balcony ... and facing the stairs ... was a room so unlike that below it that Ellyn rubbed her eyes involuntarily.

It was a contemporary room, those you could expect to find in designer houses, in soft yellow hues, lighted by scented candles, even with a small bar in a corner, where Zaknafein was currently rooting in. At the end directly opposite them was a wide, long corridor, richly carpeted, with paintings hung on the walls. Several doors were set into that corridor.

Zak located a bottle he apparently approved of with a triumphant flourish, uncorked it, and was about to raise the entire bottle to his lips when Tulan coughed pointedly. The dog whimpered, and cowered behind the both of them.

"Oh. You," Zak sighed. "Very well...Hall, a cup."

Ellyn blinked as semi-transparent, white hands appeared, cupping a goblet of beautiful blue crystal. The hands looked as though they had only materialized from the wrists up, and their movements were impossibly graceful.

Zak took the offered goblet ungraciously, snarled at the pairs of hands attempting to help him pour, then sipped the wine and smiled. "You stock a fine wine for a Bard," he commented.

"And what do you know of Bards?" Tulan countered, as if it was an old argument. "However, this does remind me." He held up Ellyn's duffel bag, and a pair of hands obediently floated over to hold it. He shook out the cramp in his hand thoughtfully.

"All the traces of iron in it was making my skin crawl," Tulan admitted. "I'm going for a swim. Ellyn, the rooms are down the corridor ... I'd be going into mine now, and Zaknafein's one is the war zone complete with weapons..."

Zaknafein snorted, taking another appreciative sip of the wine.

"The other rooms are unoccupied, and you may choose one of them. As for the hands ... you just need to command them. Answers to questions will be forthcoming after my swim," Tulan disappeared into the nearest room, closing the oak door quickly, the retriever bounding in after him.

Ellyn touched the sling bag straps on her shoulder absently, as if for reassurance, then turned back to look at the stairs. The urge to explore was consuming her ... but the idea of being able to choose a room was even greater.

Zaknafein shot her an amused, wicked smile as she half-ran into the corridor. "You'd get tired of it soon, girl," was his wry prediction. Ellyn didn't believe him, and also ignored the audible, mocking "Women!" spoken behind her as she passed.

She felt a twinge of guilt as her shoes sank into the carpet ... she had used the shoes to tramp through all sorts of weather without washing ... then forgot it as she forced herself to look slowly over the elegant corridor.

The door of oak ... Tulan's room ... had a carving of a violin, crossed with a bow. From inside, Ellyn heard with certain amusement, came several unmusical thumps and muffled curses. The door opened to show a rather harried-looking Tulan, who pushed out the dog.

"His name's Ahriman," Tulan said hastily, fending off the retriever, which was trying to get back into the room, "Bad dog! Bloody hell...I can't do anything with that rug running around me. Follow Ellyn, boy...out! Out, I say!"

Ellyn grinned, and helped hold the whining dog back by its collar until Tulan shut the door in its face. It scratched hopefully at the door, whined a bit, then followed her, tongue lolling out. Apparently it was used to this sort of treatment.

The opposite door, fashioned of...ash, she believed, was undecorated, opening to a room themed in red, and very oriental-looking, even to the heavy tiger pelt centerpiece, the frozen jaws locked in a silent snarl.

Ellyn closed that door with a shudder. Oh, it was beautiful in its way, but somehow not very suitable. The next room ... Ellyn worked from left to right, then down, then to the opposite (right), then down, then to that opposite (left), and so on ... was not themed at all. Not in the color sense, but it looked remarkably like a snipping of a room in Buckingham palace. This one, Ellyn also closed with a shake of her head.

The hands trailed her as she opened and closed door by door, theme by theme, until she came to one with the carving of crossed swords. She opened this one...

To find a war-zone, as Tulan had said. Wryly, she contemplated the rumpled coverlets, the weapons, and the ruined Dream-catcher. In fact, the only thing that it missed would be...

"Not quite like a war-zone," A pleasant baritone purred behind her. Ellyn jumped, whirled, and nearly bumped into Zaknafein, holding a now half-empty goblet, eyes twinkling with some secret glee. Somehow, he had managed to stalk up on her unheard and unnoticed...like a cat. Her eyes were drawn involuntarily to the paws, so much like the paws of a lion.

Ahriman froze, and then shot off down the corridor, a blur of gold and brown.

"There's no blood, for one," Zak continued, as it not noticing her reaction, sauntering into his room. A pair of hands floated quickly past her into the room, holding the chosen wine bottle. Zaknafein lounged on the bed, staring into space, apparently already having forgotten her existence.

Ellyn shook her head at the elf's contrary behavior, and closed the door before continuing with her exploration. Ahriman reappeared with an ingratiating grin as if apologizing for abandoning her.

She was deliberating between a room decked in rich furs, and a 'modern' one, all glass and designer furniture, when she reached a door of pinewood, the second last room. The corridor ended in a staircase, leading to another floor above, as well as downwards. She opened it, and smiled in pleasure.

The walls were not of wood, but somehow of a kind of beautiful silver-gray stone. There was a window-seat with soft cushions and a larger window by the side, in the form of an arch of strange white wood. The draperies were a pale pearl blue, embroidered with silver stars, half-drawn to let in the late afternoon sunshine.

The bed was a small four-poster, placed against the wall, curtains of the same design of blue and silver stars, made of white pine. The bed looked sinfully soft and comfortable, with a bedcover that looked like a tapestry in right ... a complex pattern with a white, striking hawk as the centerpiece, and a moon in the background.

There was no carpet, but on the side of the bed was white fur of some unknown creature ... it felt like some more wooly, warmer version of cashmere. At the foot of the bed was a chest, silver edged oak, with a silver key on the curved cover.

There was a small, low table against the wall next to the chest ... such that she would have to sit cross-legged to write on it ... but velvet, soft-looking dark green cushions lined its sides neatly.

The table, matching the room, was pine, as were the bookshelves on the other side of the room. The shelves were starkly empty, though Ellyn was determined to change that, later, as well as the small, empty wardrobe. There was a small fireplace facing the windows, with a basket of logs and pinecones to burn. The fireplace sent a thrill through Ellyn ... who had never seen a fireplace, who had only dreamed...

More pairs of hands floated in, piling logs and pinecones into the fireplace, then lighting the fire with a point of a finger, filling the room with scent. Ellyn directed the hands holding her duffel bag to the bed, then sighed in appreciation. Looking up, she noticed that the ceiling seemed like some sort of inverted vault ... curving up steeply, then gently downwards to a point in the center, from which hung a small, silvery sickle moon that glowed with enough brilliance to light the room in soft shades.

She turned at the knocking on her door. Tulan was wearing a simple robe of light blue, and holding a towel. He grinned at the delight on her face. "Do you know, I was half-afraid Zak would choose this room?"

The retriever quickly padded over to its master, and Tulan petted the dog affectionately as Ellyn put her other bag carefully on the table.

"He would have ruined it," Ellyn said before she could stop, blushed, and then lifted her chin. "Well, he would have," she said defensively at Tulan's bowed shoulders, which were shaking in mirth.

"Aye," Tulan smiled. "Well, after you finish packing...I suppose you could start exploring the house. There aren't any horror chambers here. Most unlike Unseleighe Sidhe, of course ... but I prefer not to share my living quarters with the screams of the tortured. Makes for uncomfortable sleeping, hey?" Tulan danced out of the room before she could form an appropriate reply, trailing his pet.

***

The staircase at the end of the corridor led to a library, which in turn to some sort of musician's studio. The library had wood paneling with the dull wood shelves that lined it. Four tables and fitted chairs sat in the center, under a modest chandelier ... electrical, oddly ... and on a carpet of Persian design.

The library looked quite solemn, but held a strange variety of volumes in no particular order. Sherlock Holmes rubbed shoulders with a book on Darwin's theory of Evolution, as well as a pretty volume in brown velvet, the letters in some strange spidery script.

Either Tulan was a compulsive reader who spread his mind down every avenue, or he had to depend on some sort of outside aid to buy books, and could not really specify which books he liked to read.

The shelves were hardly full, but the reading material available pulled sorely at her heartstrings. Ellyn loved to read, and bit her lip at the disorganization of the books. Well, at least she would have something to do.

The door to the musician's studio was a heavy curtain, and the walls looked thick. The studio had large French windows facing outwards towards the gate, and was paneled in wood. Many instruments sat in racks, some probably more precious ones in glass-fronted cabinets. This room was fully carpeted ... probably in order to prevent any breakage if instruments were dropped.

The room was large enough such that a small grand piano with its tapestry of a cover did not dominate the surroundings. The structure of the room itself seemed to be for the sole purpose of performing music ... there was no other reason why it should have such an oddly constructed ceiling.

There was a couch as well as a table and a music stand. Some leather-bound, ancient looking books sat on the table, obviously used often.

This was so obviously a workroom, an inner sanctum that Ellyn withdrew guiltily to scamper down the staircase to the lower level.

She found herself in a kitchen, complete with a washbasin and a tap, cupboards, oven, stove, microwave, and refrigerator, strangely out of place. The kitchen had a floor of strangely smooth white stone, contrasting with the small wood table and chairs, and great oak beams, and probably once used to hang herbs.

Ellyn, with a wicked smile, quickly walked over to the refrigerator and opened it...and grinned. Chocolate!

A few guilty selections of creamy chocolate later, Ellyn marked out in her mind, which boxes were milk and which were dark, nut, and white, then moved quickly to the next room. She could not place Zak eating the chocolate, so it would most probably be Tulan's.

The next room ... which joined to the audience room ... was a formal dining room, with a redwood table, chairs, and a rich carpet, stone fireplace, slate floor, and the obligatory portrait over the fireplace. The portrait in question, however, was that of a golden retriever instead of the normal famous ancestor. Ahriman, to be precise, Ellyn realized wryly.

One side of the dining room had been set with French windows, opening out into the garden, where Tulan was quite visible reclining in the pool, submerged to his bared shoulders, leaning on the marble side and enjoying what looked like claret. He waved at her, then yelped as Ahriman licked the back of his neck, in his shock spilling the claret into the pool.

Ellyn grinned impishly back, then wandered out to the audience room, the sounds of Tulan berating his dog behind her. It was probably quite obvious what was in the armory, but...

She pushed open the door. The room was quite large, the combined size of the kitchen and the dining room, of course. On one side were suits of armor, chain mail, splint mail, ring mail...and the other side were weapons. The room had stone walls, stone floors, and no other decorations, as if to emphasize the fact that the Master of the Hall felt that the art of weaponry was inferior to magic.

Ellyn walked through the gleaming metal, touching some with her fingers as if trying to ascertain their existences. Most of the racks were nearly empty, especially the knife ones, and Ellyn wryly remembered where most of the weapons were.

She realized, quite late, that none of the weapons appeared to be made of iron. There were some attractive blades, like a silvery-bladed long sword with a dark handle with a pale blue moonstone on its pommel, and a blade of transparent green crystal, the edges wickedly jagged and sharp, but Ellyn knew with certainty that she could not even begin to know how to wield the least of them.

"On guard!" Ellyn grinned, and mock-feinted with a rapier with a jeweled hilt, tried to twirl as she had seen Zak do earlier on, and nearly overbalanced into a suit of plate mail. She laughed at herself, then tried lifting a sword with a black obsidian blade, found she could barely lift it off the rack, then quickly replaced it before any other accidents.

There was a chuckle from the doorway, and she turned to look. Zaknafein bowed slightly from where he had been slouching on the door.

"Tulan informed me that before I began ruining my room before repair, I might as well act as a guide," he explained. "I had not anticipated you displaying your remarkable prowess in weaponry this early on."

Ellyn was quite aware of her flaming cheeks at the sarcastic comment. "Considering that this is only the second time I have seen a sword, the first being yours, let alone any other such weapons and armor up close, I doubt it would be so remarkable," she shot back.

Zaknafein raised an eyebrow. "Not ever?" he asked disbelievingly.

"No," Ellyn said, folding her arms. "However, if you would like to quiz me on geography, the World Wars, Biology, Physics, Chemistry...go ahead."

Zaknafein chuckled again. "Whatever those are. However, I see your point," he confessed. "Well, since you have seen most of the House already...would you like to see the electrical generator, the automated receiving room, or the baths?" He spoke the words with a deprecating tone.

"No treasure house?" Ellyn smiled.

"Unfortunately," Zaknafein said dismissively. "Tulan does not see any practical need for a room to hold stones, and actually, neither do I. You cannot eat them, nor can you use them in magic or in other ways..."

"You can admire their beauty," Ellyn grinned.

"Ah, is that what you see in the stones?" Zaknafein countered. Contrary to early assumptions, Ellyn ruled that Zak was intelligent, but in a different way ... sharp and straight edged, nearly like a predator, yet cunning and quick, somehow.

"What else is there to see?" Ellyn shot back.

"Value?" Zak shrugged.

"The stones have no value but that by which one would put on them," Ellyn said rather ponderously.

"True," Zak nodded, then appeared to forget about the conversation. "Well, is there anywhere you would wish to visit, or should I retire to my room?"

"You don't particularly seem to like Tulan," Ellyn commented suddenly.

Zak blinked at this non sequitur, then responded, "No, I don't. And he doesn't really like me, either. Call our living together out of necessity and personal gain."

"I find that rather sad," Ellyn said bluntly.

"Ah, I see you are quite a stranger to tact. Refreshing," Zak grinned at Ellyn's flush. "Why should it be sad? I have more than repaid him for saving my life, and the arrangement, for the moment, suits me well. There is no need to bring complications into it."

"You call friendship a complication?" Ellyn tried to raise an eyebrow in magnificent disdain, failed, and settled for cocking her head to the side.

"It is a complication," Zak said seriously. "Though not all complications are unpleasant. Still, why are we discussing philosophy?"

"Um," Ellyn tried to regain her initiative. "Do you have stables here?"

"No," Zak frowned, "Tulan does not keep...what are stables for here? Ah yes, horses."

"Is there anything to do here?" Ellyn grinned.

"No," Zak smiled. "If there was an endless supply of things to do, Tulan and I might not be taking 'jobs' as we are now."

"Jobs?" Ellyn asked.

"Bounty hunting, he calls it," Zak shrugged. "It is a way of making money, excitement, and possibilities of death every so often."

"Ah," Ellyn said her standard reply to an answer that she found startling. "Um. I think I'd go find the baths, then."

"Would your ladyship require my company into the baths?" Zaknafein said in a mocking tone, "I would so enjoy the prospect of..."

Ellyn fled out of the room to the large staircases, the elf's laughter ringing behind her.

Chapter 9: Answers

"Now I suppose you would like some explanations," Tulan said rather cheerfully, waving his fork.

"Mmph," Ellyn replied nervously, swallowed the mouthful, then nodded, "Yes, that is. Firstly, what are the systems here? The laws and the ranks, that is."

"Ah, a direct question," Tulan approved. "I was quite afraid that you would merely fix me with a blank look and expect me to acquaint you with a few centuries' worth of knowledge."

They were at dinner in the dining room, Tulan at the head of the table, his back to the fireplace, with Ellyn at his left and Zaknafein at his right. The food did not match the grandeur of the chamber ... it was but thick if passable ox-tail's stew, and a small basket of slices of French loaf. Ellyn, whom had been expecting inedible delicacies or at least food from creatures or plants that she would not recognized, tucked in happily.

"Very well," Tulan murmured, selecting another warm slice of bread. "Systems. The Underhill can broadly be said to have good, evil and neutral sides, with the neutral probably being the largest."

"You're evil?" Ellyn grinned.

"Supposedly," Tulan smirked. "I was...and probably still am, Unseleighe Sidhe, the villains. The side that contains all the...undesirables, and conventionally fights amongst itself. How predictable ... it must be something about evil that doesn't let it work together."

"If all of your Unseleighe Sidhe are like yourself, I am hardly surprised," Zak offered. The elf ate quickly, as if before he had never had much time to spare on eating, or before, he had been suspicious of his food (poison) and could never eat it outright.

"As scintillating as always," Tulan responded, not the least annoyed. "If all Unseleighe were like myself, we would have destroyed the Seleighe long ago."

Zaknafein snorted into his bowl.

"Still," Tulan said, "On the good side, is the Seleighe Sidhe, and a more boring, uptight group of peacocks you'd be hard pressed to find..."

Ellyn sniggered. "They can't kill, can't steal, all that?"

"Actually," Tulan commented, "They do that, but apparently for a Greater good, which apparently excuses these little things. However, when we do it...you hear no end of repercussions. Quite a few of them race cars, actually."

Ellyn gave him an incredulous look.

"Race 'cars'?" Zak showed that he was listening.

"You don't know what a car is?" Tulan peered at Zaknafein over his bread. "Well. I suppose I may have to show you one day, but right now it's not important. They do that to legitimately make money, for the purpose of helping the poor, destitute human children."

"That's a good cause," Ellyn said firmly.

"Seleighe Sidhe are quite taken with helping human children," Tulan continued, "Because the birth rate among Sidhe is very low, compared to you humans, whom reproduce without impunity and with the rate of rodents..."

"Why low?" Ellyn inquired, ignoring the slight, "I mean, elves seem to have the same um, anatomy. Unless the lot of you aren't taken to reproduction as a recreation," she said primly, if with a wicked smile.

Zaknafein chuckled, and Tulan rolled his eyes at the elf. "You have no idea how many elves enjoy it, and how frequently," he retorted in turn, "I mean, sometimes there isn't anything to do, and we do live forever, or something very close to it..."

"I concede your point," Ellyn said ingenuously. "Do elaborate." There was a snicker from Zaknafein's direction, and Tulan glared at them both.

"We do not share the same anatomy," Tulan continued snippily, "I'm not very sure of Zaknafein, since he's a different type of elf, but our hearts are, at least, in a different position than per normal. No, it's not there...Miss Ellyn, you have a most disturbing imagination."

"Serves you right for probing," Ellyn retorted.

"Where?" Zaknafein said with interest.

"I'm not too comfortable with that light in your eye, so I'm not telling you," Tulan told him. "Anyway. It is probably something about anatomy, yes. But then again, there are precious few half-elves...though that is most probably due to the fact that having liaisons with humans is not allowed, on the Seleighe side, anyway. On Unseleighe, well, nearly everything is allowed, but there is a good reason for that rule, so we also obey it. When it suits us," Tulan added ironically.

"And this rule is..." Ellyn prompted.

"Your lives are as short as they are in number," Tulan said gnomically. "Time also passes differently in the Underhill than on your Earth. You may stay here a few years, and return to find a hundred years have passed on your world. Similarly, even if an elf were to go out into the human world and get involved with a human...he or she would still live much, much longer."

"I see," Ellyn said, and really did. It was a classic story, however. "Um. Who rules the Unseleighe?"

"Officially? Why, the Morgana, of course," Tulan grinned. "Frightening lady. She apparently hates all living things, even her own subjects. Thankfully, I've never met her, and I hope I won't."

"Morgana... Morgan le Fay?" Ellyn inquired.

Tulan shrugged. "Perhaps so, though I fail to see her as Morgan in the story of King Arthur. Arthur would have died earlier, for one. However, legends are usually not like what actually happens. I care not, however. The Seleighe court is ruled by...do you read Shakespeare's works?"

"Well, yes...oh no," Ellyn started to laugh, causing Zak to raise an eyebrow at the both of them in curiosity. "You don't mean...Midsummer's Night's Dream? The very same?"

"The very same," Tulan said with a wicked smile. "I can't remember how the Bard got his inspiration, however."

"What about it?" Zaknafein inquired.

"Nothing important," Tulan grinned at him. "Yes, High King Oberon and Queen Titania rule the Seleighe Sidhe, and many Unseleighe Sidhe are incredibly afraid of them."

"Including yourself," Ellyn ladled a second helping from the pot.

"Including myself," Tulan agreed readily, "Oberon is a mighty mage, and rumored also to be a sorcerer. Titania is also a mage. However, they play no such pranks on each other as that in the Bard...a donkey's head, indeed," Tulan snorted.

"What about Puck?" Ellyn inquired.

"What about him?" Tulan said lazily, spearing a potato.

"Well, he was my favorite character in the play," Ellyn confessed. "And later, in the movie as well."

"No doubt he would be very flattered to hear you say that," Tulan smirked. "I hear he's not particularly ecstatic about the actor who played him. Apparently not handsome enough."

"Movie?" Zak asked blankly.

"Oh dear. What a primitive we have amongst us," Tulan said with a wicked smile. "Yes, a movie. Most elves adore them ... I may have to treat the two of you to one soon...if we can persuade our mutual friend here not to wear chain mail for a few hours."

Zaknafein smiled wolfishly. Even at the dinner table, he wore his armor. "I expect I can refrain from doing so if it is absolutely necessary," he commented, without much promise. "Though I am quite aware of the fact that it is usually during necessary situations that armor becomes an asset."

Tulan shrugged. "Now then, the neutrals. They include, theoretically, all the people who aren't Seleighe or Unseleighe. However, realistically they only include those odd people who believe that everything has a balance. They will make sure that Seleighe and Unseleighe always stay at equals, I think. Oh, and most of them don't like to meddle with humans."

"As for systems ... I'm not too sure about the neutrals, but Seleighe and Unseleighe Sidhe are usually divided into High Court elves and Low Court elves. Low Court are the less powerful ones, normally the commoners, who'd never leave their nexus ... the source of power ... very far, because they cannot survive without it. Without it ... or with a lack of it ... they go into Dreaming, some sort of sleep they usually don't wake up out of. High Court elves are the powerful elven nobles, whom have all the magic, money and lands." Tulan rolled his eyes.

"You're High Court?" Ellyn raised an eyebrow.

"Again, only theoretically," Tulan smiled. "My parents were Low Court, commoners with little power both politically and magically. My sister and I somehow were both born with Bardic and innate magic, strong enough to qualify the both of us twice over as High Court." His eyes became rather glazed as if in reminiscence. "I remember that a long time ago the two of us quite upset the Underhill with magic, each trying to outdo the other...until she Challenged me."

"And?" Ellyn inquired morbidly.

"Challenges are to the death," Tulan shrugged. "Neutral ground, witnessed by many nobles of the Unseleighe and Seleighe courts. I suppose it is very obvious who won."

"Tulan is alive," Zaknafein commented, an indirect answer.

"You killed your sister?" Ellyn said incredulously.

"I wasn't very fond of her," Tulan said, "And anyway, I am supposed to be evil."

"Not even regret?" Ellyn blinked.

"No," Tulan said with an ironical grin. "It was either of us. I do value being alive. The only blasted thing about the entire duel was that two certain high placed nobles on either side got the chance to get together secretly to talk about me, which ended up closeting me in this Hall, later."

"You seem to be able to...get out," Ellyn pointed out, confused.

"Only with Zaknafein's help," Tulan said, with a nod in Zak's direction.

"It is an honor to assist," Zak murmured acidly.

"Oh," Ellyn frowned.

"Still, to stop with past memories...well. Any other questions?" Tulan asked mildly. "I mean, we've been pursuing all these words for so long that the stew is cold, and Zaknafein's the only one who's finished."

"I do not believe in eating and chatting at the same time," Zak said dryly, pushing back his bowl. "It helps you notice what you are actually eating."

"Cockroaches?" Ellyn grinned.

"Eh?" Zak and Tulan voiced in unison, then glared at each other.

"Most sorry. That's what my...mother said when she tried to discourage me from reading at the table," Ellyn said, managing to keep her voice firm.

"I was more in the thought of poison," Zaknafein commented, "No, Tulan, you need not look as outraged as that. I was merely referring to a habit rising from my past. Still, I see I am hardly needed here any longer, so I would be..."

"Retreating to your room? Not yet," Tulan grinned. "You may like to hear this, too."

"Whether I would like to do is for me to decide," Zak responded promptly, "Right now...see you tomorrow morning." He bowed slightly, and walked from the room before Tulan could protest.

"A most impossible person," Tulan murmured, poking viciously into his stew. Ellyn snickered at the elf's ire.

"Question," Ellyn commented, "What's with you and iron? I mean, you were talking about it as though it was arsenic or something."

"Elves are afraid of Cold Iron, or the Death Metal," Tulan said, patting Ahriman. "Touching it wold give us third degree burns. It's one of the things that can be sure to kill us if you stick it in us, sort of like a slow poison. It also warps our innate magic, though it doesn't seem to do the same for Bardic Magic. However, most of the elven Bards, including myself, merge innate magic with Bardic Magic, which is then affected by iron as well."

"Oh," Ellyn frowned. "But Zaknafein has an iron sword."

"And what a big knife it is," Tulan nodded wickedly. "Oh yes. Zaknafein forced it into being unwittingly in the Unformed ... a sort of place of raw magic ... on the other hand, after I explained it to him, he can't make anything there now. Some kind of psychology, I guess. Zaknafein's never really liked magic, so once he became aware of what he could do ... well, he stopped doing it. And he gets really upset when I try to help him psychically, so I don't."

"So Zak is a warrior-mage?" Ellyn grinned.

"No," Tulan smiled, "Zak is a ghost. You don't need to look at me like that, young lady. I suppose the term for it is...zombie. Or in his weird language, a spirit-wraith. No, he won't start rotting off like that ... Night of the Living Dead, I presume?"

"I wish you'd get out of my mind," Ellyn retorted.

"Habit," Tulan said, "And anyway, you're wide open, like Zak is. Anyway, it has nothing to do with magery. Zaknafein merely has very strong will power, and that's apparently all it takes in the Unformed to create things."

"Question," Ellyn said, leaning back in her chair. "Magic."

"It doesn't concern you," Tulan shrugged. "Bardic magic and innate magic is too complicated to explain all at once, and for someone who doesn't have any magic to actually use..."

"Ash said I had Mage-Sight," Ellyn said stubbornly.

"Quite a few humans do," Tulan pointed out mildly. Ellyn bit her lip as a sudden burst of irritation welled up within her, then calmed herself, looked up, to see Tulan staring at her.

"How did you do that?" he demanded.

"Do what? Frown?" Ellyn said blankly.

"You just...flared up in the Sight. Like a sudden beacon, or a..." Tulan stared at her so intensely that she flushed with mortification. "There, you did it again. Most odd, or maybe not so...it would certainly explain Ash's uncommon interest in you."

"What? What in me?" Ellyn said, alarmed.

Tulan stood up abruptly. "Are you going to eat some more?" he asked.

Ellyn blinked, then looked at the food. "I'm not particularly hungry anymore," she said cautiously.

"Probably explaining the sudden dent in the chocolates in the refrigerator," Tulan said sourly at her involuntary grin. "Well then, follow me. No, you can leave the plates as they are, the Hall will clear them."

Mystified, Ellyn stood up and followed Tulan.

***

"As I suspected," Tulan said, steepling his fingers today to form an inverted 'V', leaning back in the couch. They were in the studio, Ellyn sitting on the table feeling very self-conscious. Ahriman had shown up again, and was taking up the rest of the couch, leaning its graceful head on its master's lap.

"What?" Ellyn demanded.

"You see, Ashalon died a sorcerer. They would become ghosts, yes, tied to their Focus or point of death, but only on Earth. They're powerful enough even as ghosts to wander the Underhill, even assuming matter if required. He wouldn't be as bored as he tried to convince Madrek and I ... to the extent that he would look after a chit of a human girl." Tulan seemed to be enjoying himself. Unraveling a small mystery or anomaly appeared to give the Bard much pleasure.

"So?" Ellyn said impatiently, ignoring the word 'chit'.

"Sorcerers always fight amongst each other," Tulan closed his eyes. "Must be some sort of fault, usually because every sorcerer wants to be an Adept. Even Miska, Ash's paramour, was a sorcerer ... they fought again and again as rivals until well, something predictable happened."

"If this 'Miska' is a woman, I think I understand," Ellyn said wryly.

"She possessed rare beauty and personality," Tulan agreed. "Their relationship was most unusual, and scandalous ... nearly a perfect portrayal of a love-hate pair. Ah, I see you possess a human's morbid curiosity involving anything with 'scandal' on it, but I would have to disappoint you this time."

"What does this have to do with me?" Ellyn demanded impatiently. She could always pry it out of Ash later if she saw him.

Tulan's eyes snapped open, and he twiddled his thumbs, a remarkably childish gesture. "Well...sorcerers fight among east other because they always seem rather...attracted to each other. It's why a really powerful sorcerer seems like a really powerful magnet, attracting many smaller magnets in the form of apprentices. Maybe there's something about teaching that appeals to them. I don't know."

"So you're saying," Ellyn said slowly, "That Ash is interested in my welfare because I am a sorceress?"

Tulan looked a little more uncomfortable. "Well, in the strictest sense of the word," he said cautiously. "I should have noticed it earlier, but I was quite preoccupied. Sorcerer, sort of comes from the word 'source', see? At least, that's what my teacher said. Sources of magic, which means that they generate their own magic. Sort of like a moving nexus point. The best of them generate so much energy they can use it to level forests, part seas, and so on. In his day, Madrek could blaze like a new sun in the Sight."

"I can make magic?" Ellyn's eyes widened.

"As I said, in the strictest sense," Tulan corrected. "You do seem to generate magic ... I feel it ... but only when you're feeling some deep emotion. Like anger. Quite a common case ... it is when we are caught with emotion when we start to loose up on other controls. And then, it only seems to last for a moment."

"Maybe it's a mental block," Ellyn said hopefully.

"Those are hard to overcome," Tulan pricked her bubbles, "Also, you must be aware of the fact that just because you can generate magic, doesn't mean you can use it. You need a gift for it. Mage Sight is normally a good sign of a magic user, but there are a lot of examples in tales of sorcerers and sorceresses who could generate magic, but could not use it."

"Can other people use this magic?" Ellyn frowned.

"It is said to be possible," Tulan frowned. "I have never studied sorcerers, nor their magic. I am afraid in this case I would have to summon Ash, or maybe bring you to Madrek."

Ellyn picked at her shirt hem then closed her eyes. Ash?

There was a mild pause, then Tulan said, "Do you need a rest?" at the same time that Ash appeared and said, "Good evening." Ahriman barked once then fell silent again at Tulan's restraining hand.

Tulan turned, unruffled. "Good evening to you, Ash. Now, we may have to work together on this child..."

"I expected it to happen sooner or later," Ash nodded. "Very well, let us start."

***

A few hours later, Ellyn stumbled back to her room, closed the door, and collapsed into her bed, breathing deeply. She felt exhausted, drained and numb.

A pair of hand appeared over the table, cupping a steaming mug, placed it neatly on the wood and disappeared. Ellyn had to take a few deep breaths before she managed to swing herself off the bed, onto one of the cushions, and investigate the offering.

The mug of hot chocolate helped make her feel more refreshed, before she began to consider what had happened. For the past few hours, Tulan had managed to keep her in a near-constant state of fury, despair, and embarrassment ... the elf's psychic powers were most uncomfortable on the receiving end. Ash had looked closely at her, then directed Tulan to trying spells, trying something called a Draining, and then, on desperation, trying Bardic Magic.

Apparently there weren't any definite results. Ellyn felt too tired to be angry with them, or anything else, but she was aware that she still did not regret leaving her world. What Tulan and Ash had done was not pleasant, but if it stood a chance that she would be able to use magic...so be it.

Ellyn fell asleep with a vague sense of determination and to the image of herself creating a transparent blue butterfly out of thin air that waltzed around her head in giddy circles.

***

Ellyn woke at seven ... she always woke around seven ... rubbed her eyes, took her small bag of toiletries and wandered down to the baths.

Wearily, she looked at herself in the mirror. Not a remarkable face, Ellyn knew. Hardly as beautiful as what she had thought sorceresses ... or any magic user ... to be. Worried-looking features peered out from a tangled mass of short mouse-brown hair, snub nose, high cheekbones, strong chin, and large faded-blue eyes. A long neck on a thin, gangling body, no figure to speak of, tanned arms, long legs that only emphasized the image of a stretched person. And yet, she was considered to be relatively short, or at least, barely making average height. An anomaly, to be sure.

When she had finished, she changed in her room and headed down to the kitchen. Soft morning light bathed the stone floor, though it was still cold to the touch. Ellyn surveyed the kitchen, the hands appearing to hover around her expectantly, then shrugged. Why not? She might as well make breakfast for everyone.

Zaknafein showed up when the omelet was frying, rumpled hair the last sign of sleep. Ellyn grinned at him, and he merely murmured a good morning, and wandered into the dining room, where he took his usual place and fell asleep again.

Ellyn rolled her eyes, expertly placing small slices of Brie cheese into the egg as it cooked, along with slices of sausage and tomatoes. The cheese brought out flavor, and the sausage and tomatoes more treats for the tongue. The hands located a can of baked beans at request, and she heated a small tin of that as well.

The hands, at least, 'knew' how to toast bread. She chose half a loaf of baguette to be sliced, as well as some deliciously fragrant fruit and nut bread. Ellyn was frying some bacon when Ahriman padded eagerly into the kitchen, sitting down with its paw raised in a stance of piteous begging. She was slipping it some sausage when Tulan stumbled to the door, raising sleepy eyes to her.

Ellyn couldn't help it. With her most chirpy voice she said, "Good morning, Tulan."

"By the Morgana, a morning person," Tulan groaned. "I'd have you know I'm used to waking up a full two hours after this ungodly time."

"It's merely eight," Ellyn said brightly. "Have a seat. And I didn't force you to wake up."

"My room isn't proof against that mouthwatering scent," Tulan tried to regain his normal composure with some half-hearted gallantry, then went back to the dining room. "Zaknafein, I saw you drink nearly an entire bottle of wine last night...and I look as though I'm having the hangover..."

From the kitchen, Ellyn could hear Zaknafein's lazy response. "Too bad."

Tulan looked better after breakfast, even to the extent of helping her with the dishes. Zaknafein had not offered to help, and Ellyn had the feeling that if she somehow managed to coerce him to do so, he would probably manage to make his presence so much of a hindrance that they would dispense with him as soon as possible.

"And how is our little sorceress?" Tulan grinned from where he was drying a bowl.

"Fully rested, no thanks to you," Ellyn retorted.

"Sorceress?" Zaknafein raised an eyebrow. He sat on the kitchen table, eating a bit of the fruit bread.

"Ellyn has hidden depths," Tulan said expansively. "Which Ash and I intend to probe."

"Ash said that there is a high possibility I can only create but cannot use," Ellyn warned.

"Oh, there's always a use in everything," Tulan commented cheerfully. "You just have to look for it."

"I think you should be gentler with her," Zak said unexpectedly. "Did you see what she looked like when she went back to her room?"

"Perhaps we overstepped," Tulan admitted. "Well, there doesn't seem to be any harm done. Most uncharacteristic of you to have worried about it, Zaknafein."

"I did not say I worried," Zak pointed out. "Merely I should like to elaborate that I have seen elves in that sort of exhaustion before. If it continues, they usually die. Burned out, like a candle."

Burned out? Ellyn blinked.

"Very uncharacteristic for you to care," Tulan grinned.

"She is only a child," Zak shrugged. "Children are to be cared for. You underestimate me, Tulan. As you always will."

"How blunt," Tulan observed. "Perhaps Ellyn's presence is for the better ... that's more words I've heard out of you in less than an hour."

"Really. I should speak less, then," Zaknafein winked at Ellyn as irritation, resignation and amusement chased themselves over Tulan's face.

Chapter 10: Failure d'Overture

Zaknafein picked a loaf of fresh bread, considered it, then neatly drew his dagger from his boot and cut a generous slice before replacing the loaf in the pantry. Tulan would have objected strongly if he had seen him put the dagger to this use, but Tulan got upset over the strangest incidents. It wasn't even as though he never cleaned his daggers...

He found out early on that he did get hungry and thirsty as 'normal' personages, although he still healed incredibly quickly, he could still get hurt and feel it.

Zaknafein opened the refrigerator and took out a slice of honey-baked ham, slipping it on the slice, then folding the bread into a sandwich. He had been having an appetite for meat for some time. It wasn't something he could explain to himself, but he hardly bothered. There was nothing particularly incriminating or harmful about preferring meat to other types of food.

He played idly with the dagger as he ascended the staircase as one would play with a ball ... tossing and catching and twirling, jerking it back to the air with his ankles, slipping it around his wrists. Then he registered the sound of steps coming down the staircase as he neared the second floor.

Snatching the knife idly out of the air and slipping it into his boot, Zaknafein crouched down in the side of the staircase on the shadowed side, realized what habit was leading him to do, and stood up. He was in time to see Ellyn walking wearily to her room and close the door, dragging her feet.

The child was obviously very tired, too dangerously tired for one so young. Zak frowned, rocking a bit on his heels, made up his mind and finished his sandwich quickly.

He walked up to the second floor and hesitated a bit more, then padded over to Ellyn's room. The door had a carving of a falcon etched on it, and Zaknafein traced the detailed feathers with one finger indecisively, then rapped on the door with his knuckles.

"Who?" Ellyn's voice itself sounded drained.

"Zaknafein," Zak replied, "May I come in?"

"Mmph," was the muffled reply. Zaknafein sighed, then opened the door, entered, and closed it behind him.

Ellyn was facedown on her quilt, one hand hanging nervelessly over the edge. Zaknafein did not approach directly, but went instead to the windows, drawing back the curtains and opening the windows to allow fresh air and light inside the room. Then he went over and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Hey," he said softly, nudging her arm. Ellyn did not move for a moment, then she rolled over wearily to regard him with tired eyes.

"Yes?" she murmured, too tired even to wander on the theoretical impropriety on closed doors, being alone with the opposite sex, and large houses.

Zaknafein shook his head helplessly, trying to think of something subtle to say. "I was wondering if what Tulan and Ashalon were actually helping you," he commented. "You look more and more tired as each day passes."

"Oh, they're trying their best," Ellyn whispered, jerking up on one elbow into a half-sitting, half-lying position. "And I so want to use magic."

"And is that such a very great thing?" Zaknafein smiled at her determined tone.

"Yes," Ellyn said fiercely, then chorused, "And how is it so?" with Zaknafein mischievously, anticipating the question. "I know you don't like magic, Zak. But I do, so much..."

"I do not like magic," Zak repeated, "Because I do not find it very reliable."

"Or is it because you cannot use it?" Ellyn snapped, then looked mortified. "Oh, I'm so sorry I said that..."

"It is a natural assumption," Zaknafein shrugged, then held up his palm and concentrated, trying hard not to stare at the obvious pads. Hopefully...yes. Purple faerie fire erupted in a small, flickering ball in his hand, and then he closed his fist, extinguishing it. Nice to see it still worked, even on a different world.

"Oh..." Ellyn whispered, then turned her face into the pillow, her shoulders shaking with sobs.

Oops. Zaknafein gave her back a helpless glance. What did I say?

"Ellyn," he said finally, "Ellyn, what is wrong?" Ha, I have lived for four centuries and I do not know how to comfort a child. Pitiful, Zaknafein.

Ellyn, if anything, cried harder. "Go away," she wailed.

There was only one way Zaknafein was aware of to deal with a hysterical case, and he applied it now ... grasping hold of her slim shoulders and shaking her a little. "Ellyn, get a grip on yourself! What is wrong?"

Ellyn's lower lip trembled, then fresh tears coursed down her cheeks. "It seems a little silly now that I think about it," she managed in a choking breath. "Hardly...something for someone of my age to cry about..."

"It may not be so," Zaknafein said, forcing himself to be patient. "Ellyn, what is wrong? Or must I spell it out slowly before you may understand my question?"

"There's...no need of that," Ellyn sniffed. "Oh dear. You must think I'm very childish."

"That depends on whether you are about to tell me why you are upset instead of informing me that you are stupid to be upset." Zaknafein said calmly.

Ellyn whispered something in a small voice, apparently concentrating her attention on her fingernails.

"Speak up, girl," Zaknafein said, managing to keep from telling her outright to stop all the little-girl-tears and start talking sense. "Having pointed ears does not mean I have the hearing of a bat."

"Everyone can use magic," Ellyn murmured. "Oh, that's not it at all, I know what you'd say," she said quickly when Zak opened his mouth, "It's just that...have you ever been given something infinitely precious to yourself, then you can't use it? Not ever ... not even look at it, or feel it, or touch it ... you'd always know it's there, deep inside, but soon you'd wonder if you've been dreaming or deluded..."

"Well," Zaknafein let out a breath. "I believe I have, yes."

"You have?" Ellyn said disbelievingly.

"Not something tangible, but if what you have in mind is what I believe it is, it is not tangible in any case," Zaknafein flicked out his claws, then sheathed them again. "I believe that the word for it is 'love'."

"Love?" Ellyn frowned.

"Someone else's love," Zaknafein smiled, "My son. I have never been loved in my life, Ellyn. Not even by my parents, and as for my brother...I am not even sure of that. Well, if we were to put it your way ... yes, to know that he loves me is precious, though Tulan will be significantly shocked to find that so."

"I cannot use this love, nor feel or touch it, because I have only been with my son for periods of time too short to give definite conclusions. I believe that yes, deep down, it is there, that someone does care for me other than for his or her own gain, but sometimes I wonder if Drizzt ... his name - did put on a remarkable show of care for gain."

"Sometimes I question this," Zaknafein continued to sheathe and unsheathe his claws, "I mean, perhaps he was discerning enough to know that if I cared for him by thinking that he returned the feelings, I would be a powerful shield and protector. I had a high position in the House, you see. Perhaps he was hoping that I would name him my successor, because he would never have defeated me on fair combat. I never taught him all my tricks ... not because I was holding back, but because there was no time. Swordplay is not something to be taught, like spells, but more for coaching and learning on the part of both the teacher and the student."

"And...and you still don't know?" Ellyn bit her lip.

Zak chuckled. "I thought I was certain...twice. The first time I took his place on a sacrificial altar. The second time I tried to take my own 'life' via dropping into a lake of acid, to prevent myself, controlled by another, from killing him."

"Died..." Ellyn's voice faltered.

"Quite painfully," Zak shrugged. "It is not very important now."

"Is this...son of yours still alive?" Ellyn asked carefully.

"I should think so," Zak responded. "Or my sacrifices will be for naught, would they not?"

"Go to him," Ellyn said impulsively, "I mean, you could find out once and for all..."

"And do I want to?" Zak inquired, and grinned at her frown. "You need not look so thwarted, Ellyn. No doubt you wish for a satisfactorily 'happy' ending to this snarl of mine? Well, I would say that I am not sure I would like to know...and it does not matter that much to me now, nor affect me."

"Just because of that...you're letting go?" Ellyn blinked.

"That is a good phrase," Zak nodded. "No doubt he thinks me dead. I would rather leave it as it is, Ellyn. The memory of the dead is often looked upon with more fondness and more forgiveness than the living. I doubt I will ever meet him again, but wherever he is, I wish him well."

"Oh..." Ellyn's brow crinkled again and her eyes filled with tears.

"Tears on my part, child?" Zak smiled. "You have no need to waste them. Well, am I correct in thinking that your 'loss', as you see it, is your lack of ability to use your 'magic'?"

Ellyn nodded slightly. "It seems quite insignificant compared to yours."

"Ah, but it is not so unimportant to you," Zak observed. "Very well then. Why does this 'magic' upset you so?"

"I was hoping..." Ellyn took a deep breath. "I mean, you and Tulan go out sometimes, and I wish I could join...I was hoping that if I had magic, great magic, I could help..."

"What we do is not a game, Ellyn," Zaknafein frowned. "Who has been slipping these notions into your mind?"

"It's my personal opinion," Ellyn said defensively. "Tulan objected too, actually."

"He is sometimes right," Zaknafein said firmly. "You are too young, and the 'jobs' are too dangerous."

Ellyn looked stubborn. "But with magic..."

"Magic sometimes fails to work," Zak said shortly. "But you could learn to use a weapon."

"Really?" Zaknafein winced inwardly at the flare of hope in her tired features. "A sword, a spear, an axe?"

"You cannot even hold those swords in the armory," Zaknafein pointed out. "The rapier is rather useless a weapon, no matter what Tulan may think, more suited for the stage and the formal ring than that of a real fight. Such a thin blade cannot block much, and a mortal wound is more difficult to deal."

"You're the expert," Ellyn said, apparently having the grace to know when she was outmaneuvered. "Um. What do you suggest?"

"A short bow, or a light crossbow," Zak looked closely at her. "Daggers are...have too short a range for you."

"Two long-ranged weapons," Ellyn pointed out rebelliously. "Still trying to keep me out of 'trouble'?"

"There is some of that," Zak agreed, not seeing any point of lying to her, "But also keep in your mind that Tulan is our magical backup, I can certainly deal with close fighting, but we have no long range arsenal."

"That's great," Ellyn brightened up. "I've taken archery classes before, too. I didn't do that well," she added, at Zaknafein's skeptical smile.

"Then perhaps I can improve that," Zak said decisively, standing up. "As to now ... take your rest. Magic can always wait."

Ellyn smiled weakly up at him as he pulled back the covers and tucked her in. She fell asleep quickly, and he gave her one last, satisfied look before padding back to the door, then out to the corridor.

Odd ... there was a strange matte-black object on her low table, with a coiled wire by the side, shaped like a box to shallow to keep anything but a few bits of paper...still, it could be some sort of new technological thing. Maybe to play music. Zaknafein looked at it a little longer then ignored it, walking out of the room into the corridor.

Tulan was lounging there, looking nearly as tired as Ellyn. "Hello, Zak. Good job you did there ... I had to settle something with Ash, or I could have come down to help earlier."

"You have no business exhausting the child to that extent," Zak said in a low voice as he closed the door.

"Hey, don't look at me as if it's all my fault," Tulan responded, "It's mostly Ellyn's fault. She's really put all her hopes on becoming a sorceress, it's nearly depressing to watch."

"Does she have a chance?" Zak raised an eyebrow.

"She can generate magic on will now," Tulan said, running a hand through his hair, "If she can use it ... well, she's already generating enough to be well and above High Court status, possibly even a major magus. Though she'd never make an Adept, not surprisingly ... not even Ashalon or Miska made Adept level. I don't know if she'd ever be able to use this magic, though. The blocks on a human are stronger than those on elves whom have a natural affinity to magic, and I dare not use the help of either Unseleighe or Seleighe Courts. Too much interest in a new sorceress would be unhealthy for all of us."

Zaknafein nodded curt approval. "Can you break the 'block' in her lifetime?" he said bluntly.

Tulan winced. "You don't need to remind me of that," he reproved, "Well... Ash believes that she's already able to use it ... she just needs to be incredibly angry first. Meaning that after she uses the magic, she'd be drained emotionally as well. Did you notice that Ellyn's basically a good-natured girl at heart? Making her that angry just to see if she can use the magic would not only be rather cruel, but also rather impossible."

"I'd be teaching her archery," Zak commented, "Though you no doubt heard, if you have been eavesdropping. It would be something to take up the rest of her time."

"She wants to join us on our little trips, do you know?" Tulan said wearily. "Thinks she may be of some use."

"More likely a liability," Zaknafein agreed. "Yes, she told me."

Tulan muttered something rude under his breath. "Well then, teach her archery. Maybe we can shift her focus off sorcery to that of fighting. Even Ash thinks we should give for a while, until she's older. It's good enough so far that she can control how much she is producing."

"Does this magic she... generates drain her?" Zak inquired.

"Well, it's sort of like a light bulb," Tulan frowned. "If you don't use the magic ... and she can't ... it won't drain her. It won't drain her even if she were to start using it ... unless she were to use so much that it starts to eat on her life force. Still... she has been calling up and holding up the magic for hours at a stretch just to try and break the block. That's what's making her tired."

"I see," Zak glanced back to Ellyn's door, then touched the wings of the carving. "This does not seem to fit her," he said wryly. "It is a fierce-looking bird."

"It is," Tulan said, "But the hawk is also the symbol of two major magus, elven brothers. One Seleighe Sidhe, one Unseleighe, a powerful pair, if a little idiotic. It's also Ash's symbol, explaining those stupid, fake wings on his back. Still, I haven't ever heard of any mages or sorcerers who'd take a cute fluffy animal as his or her symbol. You could be So-and-so the Tiger Mage, but not So-and-so the Hamster Mage. You'd be laughed out of all the Courts, for one."

Zaknafein chuckled politely at this, then bowed slightly and padded back to his room, thinking.

***

Ellyn didn't have a talent for Archery, Zak admitted as he watched her use the short bow. A few days had been enough to de-rust whatever she had learnt and add on to it, so she could at least hit the target ... currently a badly stuffed and half-rotting straw man in the back yard.

But that wouldn't be good enough for an actual expedition...you had to be able to shoot accurately, because some of the creatures they had gone up against had to be hit in certain areas, or they wouldn't die or in worse cases, even be injured.

Better than teaching her swordplay, Zaknafein thought as he fingered the hilt of his sword. Ellyn tended towards analytical, and she was always trying to think her way through a stroke, by which time, if she had been fighting against him ... or any other trained fighter - in an arena, he would have disarmed her and run her through.

Well, thinking was part of good swordplay, but instincts also had a part. She had good reactions ... something about playing too much computer games ... but she was one of those natural incompetents at sword fighting.

At least in the type of archery they would require she could have some time to think her way before a shot.

The important thing was that she was spending less time trying to learn magic now, to Ash and Tulan's relief. Apparently trying to overstress using magic could conversely kill off your Talent altogether, because failing at something often brought down your innate belief that you could actually use the power.

There was a solid 'thunk' as her latest arrow met the target. Zaknafein looked up at the straw dummy and winced in sympathy as Ellyn started to snigger.

"That's a sure way to stop a male," Ellyn commented innocently.

Zaknafein shrugged and walked over behind to her back, reaching to hold the bow and her hands. "You are not controlling the recoil," he chided. "That is why the arrow does not fly true."

"Yeah well, I'm used to controlling recoil with both hands," Ellyn replied, then grinned sheepishly at Zak's raised eyebrow. "New sort of arcade technology. Recoil guns."

Zak shook his head at her attitude. Ellyn was trying to be serious, but not really succeeding. If she had been drow and my student in the House, I would have beaten this out of her a long time ago. "However, you cannot control the bow with both hands, unless you have been hiding other appendages from me. You'd have to hold it this way ... and you also pull the bowstring back too far."

"Why can't we get a rifle?" Ellyn groused. "I can shoot a rifle. I used to be in the school club." She didn't add that it was an air-rifle club, not of other rifles, and she hadn't really shot well enough to make it to the school team.

"Ask Tulan about that later," Zak said shortly. "However, if I understand guns...parts of them are manufactured from iron, and iron is rather conspicuous."

"You carry an iron sword," Ellyn argued.

Zak shrugged elegantly, not choosing to concede her point. "When we get a 'rifle', you can show me how to use it. Right now ... well, some of the creatures we will go after have certain allergies. One of the most common involves wood of a sort."

"I understand," Ellyn nodded readily. "Ain't no such thing as wooden bullets. Still...why can't we get one of those modern bows of fiberglass and Dacron? These wooden ones from the armory looked a little ragged."

Zaknafein was rather prepared for this, and had anyway been nursing a fascination for 'modern' weapons since Tulan had described them to him, and later, somehow obtained a magazine. "Because a 'modern' bow is quite a bit harder to hide or carry ... if you have seen one you would have noticed one other difference to that of a wooden bow."

"Yes," Ellyn agreed sheepishly, "The longrod stabilizer's very bulky. But without that...well, that's why I don't know how to handle recoil."

"Learn," Zak said succinctly. "Now, you shoot a real bow like this..."

The fur tickled a little on Ellyn's hand other as Zak, firmly holding it and hence the bow, nudged off her other hand, and pulled back the string in a fluid motion. Ellyn concentrated on how he used the bow ... how he held it and just how much pressure he seemed to be applying, then nearly flinched as he let go in a quick move.

The arrow flew straight and true, burying itself deeply into the dummy's head, presumably in the space between eyes.

As if to show her that was not a fluke shot, Zaknafein began to loose other shots, commenting as he went along.

"Neck," thunk.

"Heart," thunk. "I get it," Ellyn said rather enviously. He made it look so easy... "Can you do the Robin Hood thing where they shoot, hit an embedded arrow at the end, and hence slice the arrow into four neat ribbons?"

"Why waste a perfectly good arrow?" Zak wrinkled his brow, a perfectly serious expression on his face. "And doing so would not even hurt your opponent. My meaning is, if the arrow had already hit a vital spot, your opponent would be dead, and there would be no point using another arrow. If your opponent is still alive, obviously that first arrow had not hit anything lethal, so use the second arrow to kill him if you can."

Ellyn rolled her eyes and decided not to elaborate. Some things would never change.

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Lledrith RavenWolf