Sometimes he'll try to talk to people, offer to sell them things. Sometimes he'll offer their dreams, fantasies and wishes... I don't know if anyone has ever taken advantage of this offer, except Aisha. She bought a queen's dream and her own deepest wish, and got two rich green bottles, sealed shut with a bit of wax, withdrawn from some pocket deep within the layers of his clothing.

He warned her not to open the bottles until she had some privacy... two days ago she kissed me, the sort of kiss we had when we first hooked up, passion and hope and...

...and then she walked out the door. I could hear the clink and chime of the two tiny bottles hidden in her pocket. She called back over her shoulder that she would be back in a while, that she was going up to the Rose Gardens to see the Queen's dream. I wished her good luck, hoping she wouldn't come home too disappointed.

Today when I was pacing through the roses, wondering why she left, where she'd gone, what happened to her, I found one of the tiny bottles. It was still sealed but had a scrap of paper wrapped around it. I unrolled the paper - her handwriting, but I'd known it would be her writing before I saw it - and read.

"Come find me."

No hesitation, just the flick of my knife against the wax covering the cork, a single indrawn breath as smoke the color of sunlight through leaves poured out, filling my lungs... I couldn't keep on my feet, the world was spinning, swirling, so I lay on the cool solid stone of the walkway and stared at the hill before me, watching it draw open, waiting to see her eyes looking back at me from the other side.

- - - - -

It's hard to know exactly who to trust after you've gone through a suddenly-appearing hole in the slight rise of a hill next to you. The fellow that was perched on a boulder nearby, however, struck me as quite untrustworthy, if not downright dangerous. I glanced over my shoulder, already guessing - correctly, I now saw - that like every other magic portal in the fantasy books I read, it would now be gone.

No door. No hole. No hill. Just one HELL of a large, ugly beetle with a face that looked a bit too human skittering toward me at a pace that would have me in its jaws - beetles have jaws here? - in a moment more. Spinning back to look at the stranger, I felt a brush of wind, saw the faintest of blurs, and behind me the beetle-thing made a high-pitched shriek.

I turned again to see him sitting calmly on the shell. The head had rolled a considerable distance away and was still twitching slightly, antennae waving unsteadily.

"Let me guess, you're looking for the other... girl... who came through there, right?

That got my attention off the beetle-head and on the stranger instead. My voice nearly cracked when I answered, stress and relief somehow both warring for control.

"Yes... yes, have you seen her? Where is she?"

He snickered, revealing teeth just a tad more pointed than they should be.

"Follow me. I'll take you to Aisha."

- - - - -

It�s generally agreed that walking into the middle of a war that you didn�t know about between races you have never seen before in your life is a Very Bad Thing. It doesn�t help if every time you look at your reflection, you can�t see yourself... only a strange man with dark red eyes.

I first discovered this odd problem when my guide called a halt to their march, curling up, catlike, in a patch of sunshine by the river. Questioning him as to why we'd stopped only led to amused looks and, finally, a few words.

"The river's cool, the sun is warm, we'll need to eat soon. Just wait."

Not having any useful response (although I couldn't for the life of me understand how he planned to provide food by sprawling contentedly in the sun) I wandered down to the riverbank, planning to drink...

...and when I looked down and saw someone else in place of my own reflection, I was completely startled, resulting in a very confused and indignant Kate sitting in shallow water with an irritatingly smug man laughing at me.

"That's certainly one way to go about cleaning yourself, but it looks a bit silly," he murmured, his eyes glinting with amusement as a second voice chimed in from behind me, deeper in the river.

"Silly or not, at least she isn't afraid of water, benten boy."

Turning away from my guide I found myself staring at a woman sitting half-in and half-out of the water in a spot I would have sworn was empty a minute ago. Long copper-brown hair streamed down from her head in silky waves across her emerald-tinted skin. The woman nodded to me but seemed to think any further introductions were unnecessary.

"If you are the girlchild looking for Aisha, you might want to look for a different travelling companion. This one..." she chuckles, "This one isn't quite housebroken."

- - - - -

"Not housebroken? NOT HOUSEBROKEN? What do you think I am, a dog?"

The green-tinted woman merely laughed, the sound moving like the wind, seeming to fly past only to circle, return, surrounding us both. He hissed, rising to his feet in one fluid motion and padding a few steps closer to the river and to what I guessed would be a Dryad, putting himself between the lady and I.

Still confused, and now dripping wet, I made my way out of the river, nearly falling twice. A few more steps, bringing me closer to my guide... and again I fell, this time because my shoes seemed to be sticking to something.

I crouched, wary, not wanting to take her eyes off the two strangers who were now spitting what could only be insults at each other in a language I was pretty sure I'd never heard before and quite sure I couldn't understand. My fingers dug into the dirt and grass beneath one shoe, trying to figure out what it was caught on. When I felt the tiny roots moving and twisting beneath me, growing at quite an unnatural rate and made from the same material as the soles of my shoes, I couldn't help the tiny gasp of shock and worry.

A second later the other two stopped arguing long enough to glance at me... and two seconds more had my guide beside me, plucking what felt like strands of my hair. Silently he held them out to me, each one a perfectly-formed ivy leaf. I took them, stared at them, back up at him... shook my head, trying to deny this new insanity, and I could feel the leaves brushing my cheeks, rustling against each other softly.

"Feral?" He glanced over his shoulder at the Dryad who shook her head.

"None of us would harm her - whether Aisha is..." she trailed off, silent for a moment. "Whether a stray human is found or not won't affect us. I know you and yours are on her side. Which leaves exactly one option."

"Dai Colere. I didn't think there were any Dryads with them... to have one in this area, willing to lay such a trap, speaks of careful planning." He shook his head in turn, looking disgusted and worried. Frankly, at this point I was pretty disgusted and annoyed myself.

"Err... excuse me, could one of you please explain why I'm turning into shrubbery, and maybe DO something about it? Please?"

When I spoke my guide nodded, looking just a bit sheepish.

"Naisae, can you give a bit of help here?"

"I think so, but only a slight stay. She'll have to find someone more powerful soon... girl, what name do you use?" she asked as she stood, walking through the shallows until she was beside me.

"Use? Oh, that's right. You never give your true name to strangers if you're in a fucking fairy tale being turned into a tree while looking for a friend who got lost in said fairy tale. Not that I'm upset or anything," although I'm sure my expression said just the opposite, "and you can call me Kate."

"Kate, what I'm about to do is going to-"

Naisae dug her fingers into the ground beside my feet, closing her eyes, shivering as her entire body seemed to glow for a moment, the light rushing into the dirt, feeling like fire as it met the rootlets, worked upward, flashing through my feet, up my legs, through my hips, my stomach, my chest, and finally burned itself out a few inches below my throat.

"-hurt."

I didn't even get to finish screaming from the pain before I was out cold.

- - - - -

I woke up feeling what has got to be the weirdest combination of sensations anywhere. My mouth was full of liquid that tasted like cream soda without the fizz and with a few rose petals thrown in. I was on the ground, staring up at the trees surrounding me, my guide and his Dryad friend, and the small - SMALL - creature perched on the tip of my nose.

Of course I did what every well-bred person would do under these circumstances...

...I sneezed hard enough to send the tiny creature flying. Fortunately for her (and possibly for me) she seemed to have wings. And human arms and legs. And gleaming eyes. And glittering... teeth? I sat up quick enough to make the world spin again, trying to prepare myself for the oncoming pixie.

"Vielli, you've no right to fuss at her, you did have your wings nearly up her nose." This statement, spoken quite calmly by Naisae, had no effect other than my hand moving to cover my nose. A second later a tiny glowing pile of cloth and wings and flesh hit me right between the eyes. My head, still trying to tell me I should be sleeping, used this as an excuse to insist and down I went.

Getting knocked unconcious by a pixie is highly embarassing, I don't recommend trying it.

The second waking was much more pleasant, still that sweet cool liquid in my mouth and on my lips, but now instead of tall, distant greenery there were stone walls climbing with ivy. Ivy. Dammit. I raised a hand to my head... yep, a few leaves. Pulling them out hurt like hell but I knew I wasn't going to be able to concentrate on anything until I was leaf-free.

Once this task was completed I took stock of the area, wobbling to my feet and slowly turning. I was on a balcony of a castle. Not one of those smokey, crumbling ruins they show tourists, not something all Modern... no this was a proper fairy-tale castle, with gargoyles and a moat, tower after tower... Down and off to the side I could see a scattering of houses that said 'quaint village' to whatever part of my head was in charge of Trying To Make Sense. It was failing miserably but I really did have to give it points for trying, particularly when I was three-quarters of the way through my turn and noticed there was a fairy sitting on the balcony rail.

- - - - - Fehan - - - - -

Quiet strength. Patience. A keen mind, razor-sharp wit, beauty, youth, he had it all. Every day brought him closer to the goals he set for himself years ago. Every dawn saw him awake and alert. To anyone watching him, to all of the servants and soldiers and people near him it seemed his life was perfect.

It really was a perfect life... except for the nightmares.

Some nights they were nothing but terror, all of his fears dragged out, surrounding him, drowning him in fear.

Some nights they were painful, some truth that he'd tried to hide from, words of others never truly forgotten.

Some nights... some nights, he had The Dream. Those nights he got precious little sleep, spending the hours before the sun returned staring out one of the windows in the library, a book he had no intention of reading open on his lap to give the appearance, should anyone enter, that he was merely reading.

When Fehan first had The Dream, it was of his parents and himself dying in flames. Unable to convince either of them to leave the house, he ran off, a terrified child, and was hidden in the forest before the house he had lived in for nine years was set ablaze by a passing band of would-be soldiers.

When he tracked them down four years later he took the time to ask one of them why they had chosen that house to burn, what they were doing. The man's answer of 'dunno, we were bored' earned them all quite a bit of pain before he killed them.

Occasionally as he stared out through the thin-paned glass he thought about them... wondering if he had let them live, if he would still be what he was now. Unlikely, the only reason his first teacher had taken him in was because of the blood on his hands. Dealing with death at his age made him the perfect candidate for the Necromancer's attention.

He passed from place to place, never staying long, and always listening to the Dreaming... eventually the course of it changed, showing him the army he would gather about him, the palace he would live in, the power and strength he had craved since he was nine. This too he did, settling himself in the middle of Haven, slowly claiming the country, piece by struggling, rebellious piece.

Now? Tonight, he's Dreaming again. When he wakes up, when he stares out at the stars, the moon, he'll be worried. After all, this Dream consists of nothing but a scrap of paper held out to him by a girl he has never seen before.

Half in shadow, half in light
Called to Haven, called to fight
Searching for a long-lost prize...

...and he can't remember the rest. For the first time he can't hold on to the dream; if he hadn't written those three lines down when he woke they would be gone as well.

Leaning against the casement of the window he watches the sun rise, waiting...

- - - - - Aisha - - - - -

Fairy.

Fairy.

Amazing how determined your mind can be when it latches on to something... instead of having Beatles songs or the shopping list from a week ago, I'd got fae. One fae. Fairy. I know I actually stared for a good minute; for some reason seeing a beautiful winged girl nearly my size had more effect than Naisae or her pixie acquaintance Vielli.

The wings themselves were works of art, shifting hue slightly as they moved, oil-slick pinks and bruise purples overlaying pure pearl. Her outfit didn't begin to compare to the wings, simple black, cut attractively enough but... wings.

I'd no idea how long she had been perched there, waiting for me to wake. The trace of liquid in my mouth was still cool, almost cold, leading me to suspect she'd only had a moment or two in which to strike that careless pose, showing off her profile and her wings.

Wings.

A few mental recitations of the most calming mantra I could think of (...Half Baked... Phish Food... Cherry Garcia... Karamel Sutra... New York Super Fudge Chunk...) and a doorway to brace myself in gave me enough security to squeak out a wordless greeting. She turned ever-so-slightly toward me, no longer politely pretending I didn't exist, and did something that was almost a bow but involved complicated wing and hand movements. Very hawaiian... and once again my mind wandered, leaving me about to ask something regarding pineapple before my more rational side kicked in.

"Um... I'm afraid I don't know what is and isn't polite here, or where here ~is~ exactly..." I paused long enough to lift one foot off the ground, snapping the hair-thin rootlet that had been trying to burrow into the wood and stone that formed at least this portion of the castle, "...but I do know that I'm looking for a girl named Aisha, that someone is trying to turn me into a plant, and that I don't think I'm going to be entirely coherant. You have wings, I'm not used to wings, and it's a bit distracting."

She smiled... You read the stories, you hear them say glamour over and over, you picture it in your mind, but you would never be, could never be, prepared for the Real Thing. When she smiled I felt as if I too had wings, the world wrapped in a thousand rainbows and I could touch them, climb them, she was the most beautiful thing in the world...

...and then something in my head flickered and although I could still see the riot of colors, hear the sounds of bells, laughter, water trickling across perfectly-round river stones, it was merely overlaid. The world beneath it was as solid as it had ever been, darker and dirtier than the fairy-tale perfection she wove, but somehow more to my liking. I've always half-believed in the old tales and superstitions; black cats make me a tad nervous, and sometimes I do put out cream for the brownies when I've got a particularly messy house and no time to clean, just in case. Seeing nothing but this artificial perfection left me feeling cold and slightly paranoid.

Something in my expression gave the switch in sight away and there was a momentary pout, the expression of a bored, spoiled child who just found out that her newest toy was broken - briefly annoyed, but aware she'd get more toys sooner or later. Realizing I'd pretty much stopped the conversation dead in its tracks by my apparently unexpected clarity of vision, I flushed slightly and tried to pick up where I left off.

"My apologies for my tangled words, ...?" my voice trailed off into as polite and coherant a question as I felt I could manage - my head had chosen this moment to remind me that the little men with hammers who lived there were extremely unhappy and demonstrating this by banging away at the inside of my skull.

"Is not a case for apologies, lass. Ye' are strange here, and not knowing can be quite as unpleasant as knowing too much." How she made that heavenly voice and such simple words sound like a threat was utterly beyond me; I just did my best to look innocent and helpless, playing the role of 'stupid human' as she continued. "You may call me Nageur d'Or."

"...or you could do what the rest of us do, and call her Goldfish." My guide's arrival was timed perfectly as always, catching her before she could give out anything but her name and annoying her enough that likely she wouldn't want to tell me more. I stepped back slightly into the room, only half-listening while the two of them exchanged insults, and tuning them out almost completely after a couple of pixies and a talking crow joined in.

A few minutes of just standing against the wall did nothing but encourage my shoe-roots; pacing seemed the wisest course. The room wasn't too large but it was certainly bigger than my bedroom back home, with a lovely soft carpet. Curious, I paused long enough to take off my shoes and stand barefoot... unfortunately, the tendrils that sprouted from my toes and ankles in place of roots nearly had me knotted to the rug before I could pull loose again.

Back to pacing, trying my best to think. Aisha had said she was going to see the queen's dream. The other bottle, presumably the one I opened, was to grant her deepest wish... or was it ~my~ deepest wish that would be granted now? I wasn't sure I even had a wish deep enough to be worth granting, other than to find Aisha and go back to where things feel familiar, where I know the rules, where all of this will be...

...nothing. That won't be true, not now. Even if I was to get back home with Aisha this very second, I would still remember this, know it was here. Hell, knowing me I'd go looking for it again. She used to tease me, calling me her puppy, her watchdog, her best friend. She was my songbird, her wings lifting us both up, away from the dreariness of most days, past the banality the world tried to wrap us in.

*sniffle* And then I was crying. Not loud, not obvious, but slow silver droplets tracing their way down my cheeks, gathering at my chin to fall and disappear into the thick fibers of the carpet. I guess I just didn't expect any of this to ever be real, not the way she did. Aisha believed in happily-ever-afters. I just believed in Aisha.

As the verbal warfare on the balcony continued I settled down on the most comfortable piece of furniture in the place, something half-sofa, half-bed, soft enough to sleep on. Wrapping my arms around one of the pillows I closed my eyes, snuggling against the velvetlike covering and trying to imagine Aisha curled there instead. For a heartbeat I felt her there, felt the rise and fall of her body breathing, her heat, cornsilk-soft hair tickling my nose. I clung to that illusion, trying to sleep, to dream of her, so that this peace would last a little while longer.

The last thing I recall before I was completely asleep was hearing the crow calling my self-elected guide 'benten'... somehow whenever people talked to him they seemed to use that word as a description, rather than a name. Sleepily I murmured to Aisha, asking her to remind me about that, to ask him later... I drifted off, rather glad I couldn't understand most of the words the pixies were using... if the ones I could understand were any indication... ...someone should wash their mouths out with soap...... ......did soap exist here?..............

- - - - -

"Ost, neh, pat, denz, kor, radu, jast..."

Someone is counting.

"...ost, neh, pat, denz, kor, radu, jast..."

Those numbers don't sound right... why?

"...ost a promise..."

I can't... where are you, who are you? I can't find you. I'll keep opening doors, you have to be behind one of them.

"...neh a loss..."

I'm running out of doors. They keep getting smaller and smaller, I feel like Alice in... where was she? Fairyland?

"...pat a gift..."

One door left. I don't want to open it.

"...denz a cost..."

There's something bad behind it...

"...kor a fire..."

...or behind me? There's something behind me! I don't dare look, only run, have to keep running. Faster. Faster!

"...radu a frost..."

FASTER!

"...the seventh key will set her free..."

Wall. Corner. Caught. Turn...

...dark, cold, those eyes... my shadow has eyes that burn me... Aisha!

Paper in my hand and he isn't coming closer... what does it say? Is it a spell? It must be. Aisha's handwriting.

Maybe if I read it aloud...

"In your restings, in your sleep
may you dream of somewhere deep
sky and stars have turned to dust
knowledge you must now be taught
to help and heal what darkness wrought
unto you we give this trust

half in shadow, half in light
called to Haven, called to fight
searching for a long-lost prize
sister spirits, twins' rebirth
dreams of darkness shake the earth
stars have tumbled from the skies

battle forms on sacred land
the Dreamer then will understand
the Seven, choosing only one
flame of courage, willow tall
lightning's spark and panther's call
can turn the tide and light the sun"

I don't understand it. He...

...he looks surprised... hey, he tore the paper, Aisha's paper, it's all I have... give it back!

I can't understand what he's saying... it's wrong, strange...

"...iri sa h'lien gerath..."

Why can't I understand? He looks so serious, but he won't give me back the paper...

"...ost, neh, pat, denz, kor, radu, jast..."

Who is counting? Who is.....

"...ost, neh, pat, denz, Kate..."

That's not right.

"Kate? Kate! Wake up!"

But I am awake, I can't find anyone else, where are you?

"Can't you DO something?"

I am doing something. I'm looking for...

"I can try, as always. I'm getting tired of this."

...what was I looking for...

"Stand back."

I was looking for.......... OUCH! What the hell?

"I think she's waking..."

...the world swam and I struggled, trying to stand up, to keep looking for something, I couldn't even remember what, and suddenly I was half-submerged in icewater, shivering, held by strangers... no, at least one of them is only half a stranger. Guide. Right.

I'm in ICEWATER?

"Aisha!" ...and with that, speaking her name, I remembered who I was looking for and at the same time was dropped completely into the tub of freezing-cold water. Sputtering, shivering, I found my balance and stood, looking around at the rather large gathering of people in the room. A few faces were somewhat familiar - my guide, the fairy on the balcony, Naisie - but they were outnumbered by strangers, the closest one scribbling something in a huge book that looked as if it would stand almost as tall as she would, the crowd of pixies in the back flitting about too fast to make out any faces...

...I looked down and wished I hadn't.

The same person. Same shadow. Dark hair, blood-red eyes, and now he was smiling. Fortunately for me, falling out of the tub in an effort to get away only landed me in the arms of several strange Fey instead of on the floor, and in a few minutes I was mostly-dry, bundled up in a soft blanket with a cup of what I hoped was tea in my hands, trying to explain my dream to the most human-seeming of the lot, the girl with the giant book.

Ost, neh, pat, denz, kor, radu, jast.

- - - - - Kebechet - - - - -

She'd always had a taste for the unusual; shunned by her sisters for her wilding ways, she kept to the deep pools beneath the willow trees and beside the thickest brush. The few she lured into her depths she rarely returned.

The few nymphs who would still talk with her, even those whose desires came close to hers, would never appear above the water without their glamour wrapped loose about them, a cloak of allure and the rippling beauty of a waterfall, the glistening wetness, sleek and tempting. She chose to stay plain, little of her magic used, what beauty she had and what strangeness she posessed undisguised and unaccented. Those who saw her and tried to follow were tantalized without the aid of magic...

...and so they were free to struggle and fight when they saw the rusted chains and mossy ropes, the weed-choked ruins that a thousand years of riverflow had turned into a nightmare maze of broken walls and half-smoothed stone.

They did fight, always, and she believed she would not have it any other way. That, as much as what she did with her rare captures or her denial of her magics, separated her further from her sisters. Their near-innocence... her tattered and broken memories... she fled from them whenever they had reason to make their way up the river past her dwelling.

Each time she became aware of one approaching she kept to the shadows, tangling her essence in the deepest part of her pool, away from the pull of the current and the fey who passed. Each time she felt their presence diminish again she cried, tears lost into the water, washed away to the sea.

It took her years to sort through herself, to settle on a single, simple wish. Her one Desire, her one weakness... one who would come willingly as they all came, but would not fight as they all did in the end. One who would see her, fear her, and yet stay.

A bard she did not lure, but simply hid and listened to, sung of love and faith as he tuned his guitar beneath one of the willows. A couple she did not appear to stopped beside her pool, laughing, touching, sharing themselves. She learned the words for the song, and hummed the tune to herself as she rested on a sun-warmed patch of sand...

...which is where Fehan found her on his way up to the mountains, coming on her unexpected as he led his own latest prize to the water to drink.

- - - - -

The prize himself was almost nondescript, dark brown hair falling straight, obscuring his eyes, hiding much of his face. With his slender build he might have been graceful, if not for the coltish edge to his movements and the delicate gold chains linking wrists to throat and throat to Fehan's hand. These bonds were clearly for show, fragile enough that a too-quick movement on the boy's part would have snapped them... yet he moved with care, making sure to keep just enough slack to prevent damage to them.

Kebechet, startled by the sound of a whimper, sat up to see these two strangers, both human-seeming and only one paying any attention to her at all. The unbound man was sitting cross-legged a few feet away, and the whimper came from the boy who, somehow silently enough to keep her from hearing him, had approached the water. The chain wasn't quite long enough to let him reach it and in his thirst he whimpered, eyes locked on the cool liquid tumbling past him.

"Patience, Dog."

His voice confused her, echoing with a richness that she'd only heard in the most shy of the wilding Fey, yet polished and precise as any human. Fearless, trusting her own nature to serve her well if he tried anything, she rocked back to sprawl in the sun, braced on her elbows, eyes half-closed before they met his gaze.

"Perhaps the lady could be enticed to help you...?"

She shivered, attention still caught, held, by his tone. Only the boy's voice jarred her from her focus, leaving her suddenly wary again, not trusting anyone who could bewitch a water nymph with nothing more than a handful of words. The boy had moved again, still puzzlingly silent, to kneel near her. He'd placed himself carefully, not coming between nymph and master, off to the side, and as he spoke he extended his linked hands, cupped together.

"Please, m'lady, may I have some water?"

He had a soft voice, kitten-fur in contrast to the silk and leather that seemed to wrap Fehan's words. His eyes, now that he'd tossed his hair back enough to leave them somewhat-visible, were mismatched as hers were, green and brown to her green and blue. He gazed at her, steady...

...and her heart skipped a beat, watching as after a moment his head slowly dipped, resigned, timid, proud, afraid, a hundred possible emotions all cast into that single movement. Her teeth caught at her lower lip and she once again sat up, turning, dizzy with need.

"Give him to me," she whispered, for the first time in years spinning out the lures and tricks that her sisters used, half-forgotten glamour flooding through her, toward the man who held this lovely creature's leash. "Give him to me, let me take him, let me have him..."

"For a price."

Still lost in her desire she nodded, holding out her hand for the glittering leash. Fehan shook his head, tugging on it lightly, and the boy darted back to his side.

"For a price, and you may only keep him for a time. When I come to claim him again you will return him... and you will pay me what I ask."

She rose to her feet, nearly stumbling, her own grace falling away along with her spells, her magics, everything set by the wayside as she stepped toward the pair. Some small part of her was in panic, her own inability to deny this need shocking her, ashamed that her weakness had been found, used, by a mere human. When she again met his eyes, though... when the gleam of red flashed across her vision, for a moment drenching the world in bloody hue, her shame vanished to be replaced by fear.

She knew those eyes. She knew that voice now, knew why it drew at her.

"You WILL pay the price for my Dog, won't you, Kebechet?"

Even this admission, her name falling from his lips so casually, the close-guarded secret somehow his, couldn't stop her as she lovingly knelt, cupping the boy's face in her hands before bringing a finger to his lips. He parted them, tongue flicking out, greedy, a trickle of water finding its way across her skin, into his mouth. She remained there, captivated, as Fehan rose and walked away.

Perhaps... perhaps this was the one, the one who could make her forget. If this boy, this Dog, could ease the ache...

...he would be worth any price.

- - - - - Aisha - - - - -

"Mhmm... I see... mmhm..."

Five minutes of this and I was about ready to bean her over the head with the book she was writing in. The dream from hell, icewater, and now this apparent inattention when she'd asked to hear the dream in full. Frustrated, I decided to see if she was paying ANY attention.

"...so then the penguins started counting too..."

"Penguins? What penguins?"

My surprise must have been quite visible; she chuckled, actually setting down the tome and shaking her head in apology.

"I'm sorry, dear... I really am listening, I'm just used to getting these from fey who wouldn't shut up if you paid them, all they need is a few noises to keep going. Your dream is important, please continue."

Cheerful voice and friendly smile were both convincing but I shook my head now, cupping my hands tight around the mug of what tasted like hot chocolate but had been called 'tea' by the six-eared creature that brought it to me on a silver platter etched with spiderwebs and leaves. Everything else in the huge kitchen seemed to make even less sense so I'd accepted the drink and tried to be polite. Now? I was about out of politeness (and tea, actually).

"I'll tell you the rest but I've a request for an explanation first. I'm warm now, I've gone over the damn thing in my head enough that I'll remember the details just fine in a few minutes, but I would REALLY like to know why this dream is so important... and maybe why I came to in a vat of icewater?"

So far no one had answered my questions regarding that last bit and believe me, when you're half-naked in icewater, surrounded by strangers, there's a limit to how many times you can ask the same questions before you give up and just ask for a towel. At least this woman was both human-seeming and polite enough to loan me some of her clothing - I was half-drowning in a huge, fluffy sweater, large enough that I couldn't figure out how my audience of one had managed to make it seem as if it fit her like a second skin while she was wearing it. The moment I'd tried to put it over my head I'd been almost lost in it, although grateful; it was warm, dry, and covered me completely.

Her smile changed from humor to sympathy, eyes still sparkling behind her glasses as she responded.

"You were in icewater because you'd heated up enough to set your shirt to smoking and burn the hands of the first two wildings who tried to move you. We've had a few other people who got lost in dreams like yours and we learned - cool them down or they'll combust. Be glad you Dreamed here, instead of the middle of nowhere, child. As for the dream itself... sometimes the Powers That Be see fit to communicate. The Priestesses are accustomed to such things, they know how to translate, to stay calm and even awake. The rest of us poor folk? Visions like that aren't meant for us to see, our bodies go overboard trying to process them.

"Right now, we don't know WHAT your Dreaming means. We do know that such Dreamings happen rarely, and only when it's of great importance that the information be given. The Powers seem to thrive on balance, so it's likely that something has thrown the world's balance out of whack, and they're trying to fix it. It's also possible that in coming from your world to ours as you did, some sort of fracture was created. At least Aisha..." she trailed off, biting her lip, hesitating for several seconds before continuing.

"At least Aisha's presence didn't seem to herald any oddness, any problems. Your arrival coincides with Dai Colere's intrusion on wilding land... and here, coincidence is rare."

I buried my nose in my mug, taking another deep draught of the rich liquid, letting it send a current of heat through me. She too was silent now, waiting for me to speak. Finally I set the wooden mug back down on the table, folding my arms and leaning back, snuggling a bit deeper into the sweater before I opened my mouth.

"You all talk as if Aisha has been here for a long time... as if everyone knows her. This will be the last question I ask for now, I promise, but please... will you tell me where she is, what's going on? I only came here to find her."

The last few words were near-whimpered and I struggled to keep back the tears that were tightening my throat. Days of frustration, confusion, worry, all of it was suddenly fresh again. The scribe's eyes glistened now, tears shed to make up for the ones I didn't dare let go.

"Aisha arrived here three years ago. She... she was a friend to all the fey gathered here, to many of the wildings elsewhere as well. A year ago she was handfasted to the Queen; when she disappeared he went half-mad with grief, storming off to look for-"

"He?!"

She laughed, nodding; a single tear managed to catch the crystal of her glasses, reflecting and refracting light until both eyes seemed full of rainbows. "Yes, he. The title of Queen is traditional, gender is rather optional. Aisha said she came here to meet him and none of us were all that surprised. He'd had a Dream of her, after all."

I couldn't say anything, just listening, stunned but somehow unsurprised by this new revelation - hadn't Aisha come here when she went to see the Queen's dream, after all? My companion seemed to understand my speechlessness and kindly continued her explanation.

"We don't know where Aisha is, or the Queen since he disappeared in search of her. Your Dreaming wasn't the only one we've had in the last few days... but it IS the most clear, the most involved. One of the others, as I recall, was nothing but the sight of a boy, burning, while his mirror image looked on. This is why it's important for me to get all the details, child. What you saw, what you heard, might be the one thing that will let us find our Queen and your friend."

She laid her book and quill on the table, reaching out to me. I let her take my hands in hers.

"Kate, my Name is Buttercream Spackle, and I swear on it that we will do everything we can to find Aisha... and that I personally will do everything I can to help you."

Her voice shifted, echoing slightly, and as she spoke the next few words I saw other fey sitting elsewhere in the large kitchen turn toward us, eyes widening.

"Testing waters, sink or swim; most would wait but you dive in. Your courage and the care you show will take you where you need to go... and I will go there with you."

Somewhere a plate dropped, shattered, and she blinked.

"Oh, damn... did I do it again? What did I say this time?"

Now even more confused, I repeated her words back to her. She grimaced, then shrugged.

"The curse of a True Tongue... your fortune's just been told, dear. Apparently I'm going to be part of it. Bother. And I'd been planning to work on the Library Index, too." Another shrug and a laugh.

"At least there's one bit of good news there. We WILL find your friend. Now, Kate... would you please tell me the rest of the dream?"

I nodded, and went back to my recitation, finishing off the last of my whatever-it-was between words, somehow comforted by the woman's denouncement. Finally it felt as if I was getting somewhere.

- - - - -

"OUCH! Are you sure there isn't a better way to get rid of this?"

"Oh, stop whining. A body would think you've never had treerot juice poured on you before.......oh." The rather cattish fey speaking had the good grace to look a bit sheepish as she went back to bathing my feet in the sticky, itching, too-hot-for-comfort liquid. Sitting completely still wasn't an option, at this point I was half-bouncing in the chair, my hands gripping the arms of it tight enough that I could feel my fingernails beginning to splinter the wood.

"Just a bit more, child... then we can get going."

I shot what must have been a rather pathetic look at Buttercream, who was perched beside me on a ridiculously tall stool; her only response was a rather amused smile and a pat on my head before she turned away to look around the room.

"Peek... Peek!"

Her summons only won her what I deduced was the wrong fey poking his head through the doorway on his way past to answer her... damn, where did the fey GET their voices? I could feel my hormone level rising... then caught a glimpse of his legs, which appeared to be covered in fur and hooved. Right. Satyr.

"Peek's off in the main hall, talking to one of the mirrors," he purred, "...want me to go get her?"

A nod from my Guide, who was standing on the other side of me, sent the fellow clopping off down the hall in the direction he'd come from. I looked at the pair who were alternating attempts at distracting me from the pain in my feet and lower legs, trying to remember the way the hall had looked when I was led through it on my way here to the herbalist's rooms.

"There's a talking mirror down there? Let me guess, it's the one over on the right, with the silver and rosepetal frame, right?"

Several of the fey standing around watching started chuckling and the dryad bathing my feet looked up to answer, since Buttercream was busy trying not to fall off her stool laughing and even my Guide was biting his lip.

"Actually, there's no talking mirror in the main hall. We're not sure if Peek knows that or not, though. Then again, she talks to the doorknobs too, so..." she shrugged.

"So you need an insane fairy to finish this off?" I queried. Buttercream managed to stop laughing long enough to answer.

"Pixie, dear, Peek's a pixie. Also, she's not insane... just... unique. And she's got something we need."

...which is?"

"The REAL talking mirror."

Before I could respond to that I felt my feet lifted up out of the treerot bath, wiped off, and set back on the floor. I looked down... waited... and lifted my feet again. No tendrils, no tugging, just a faint ache in the soles. I mentioned the ache and the dryad nodded.

"This hasn't removed the curse, just made sure you'll stop sticking to things. I'll send some oil with you when you leave - rub it into your feet every couple hours, it'll help with the pain and keep the treerot from wearing off too fast. I'll send a bit more of the treerot with you too, just in case... but be careful with it, don't let it spill - if this stuff hits a dryad's tree you're likely to end up with another curse on top of this one."

I nodded, murmuring my thanks before turning to Buttercream... who hopped off her stool and headed to the door. Spinning, I saw a fey who couldn't be more than four feet tall, streaks of bright blue and hints of purple in what was otherwise-black hair, dancing from foot to foot impatiently. Guessing that either this was Peek or that we'd end up having to go FIND Peek, I headed toward Buttercream and the newcomer...

...who got a good look at me, then fell over. From her sprawled pose on the ground she started up a commentary, her words tumbling out with dizzying speed.

"Is that her? Is that her? It is, isn't it? Kate, hi Kate, you must be the one that everybody talks about, but why do you need my mirror, hi Buttercream, see, I came as quick as I could, what're you and Kate going to do, can I see, can I watch, do I get to come with you?"

My Guide sauntered quickly away in the opposite direction, ducking out a small door in the back wall. Buttercream simply dropped her book on the pixie.

"Peek, we need to use your mirror to find the one who put a curse on Kate. Of course you can be there when we use the mirror, you have to be, it's your mirror. You can't come with us because we need someone here to keep an eye on us through the mirror, just in case."

The little femme seemed to take this in stride, nodding as she squirmed out from underneath the book and handed it carefully back to its owner.

"Didn't haveta boink me with a book, you could have just told me to shut up, 'cos I would, I listen to you, you're nice and I like you, so you didn't need to drop it on m-" Buttercream lifted the book and Peek, amazingly, shut up. Even that threat didn't keep her completely quiet as we followed her through the halls, down several flights of stairs, up a few more flights, through more halls....... and ended up going in a room that was two doors down from the healer's suite. I looked at Buttercream, who held a finger to her lips until she was close enough to whisper.

"Don't ask... we need her help, so I'm not going to try to argue with her. Let her do it her way."

Not actually KNOWING any other way, I shrugged, nodded, then stepped over to the mirror. Its frame gleamed with a combination of gold woodstain and lots of polishing, although the glass itself had a couple of handprints and several smudges on it. Buttercream followed suit, then Peek... and when the pixie approached the mirror I gasped. Our reflections disappeared, spinning and fading until a fey who looked enough like Peek to be her sister was visible, standing in front of vine-covered ruins, several trees shading her. The image wasn't perfectly clear, but it was sharp enough that I didn't doubt it was a real scene, not some trick painting.

Slowly Peek raised her hand. The pixie on the other side raised hers as well, leaning forward to touch the same spot that Peek's hand came to rest on. When their hands met there was a flash of light, bright enough to leave me blinking away afterimages for a moment. As my vision cleared I realized that there was still a glow, illuminating both of them, coming from their joined hands - as far as I could tell there was no glass between them, skin touching skin.

"Knowlege you must now be taught to help and heal what darkness wrought; unto you we give this trust," the mirror-fey chanted, her eyes widening as she caught sight of me. "I know you seek for the source of your suffering... find the Standing Man and call out starlight. She'll be there." With that she stepped back, blowing Peek a kiss before the entire image fogged, clouding over, turning to a view of seemingly-endless mist with a dark, masculine shadow deep within it... then with another flash of light our reflections returned, the mirror again seeming nothing more than a bit of reflective glass in a well-polished frame.

Peek darted out of the room as Buttercream turned to look at me, her expression serious.

"Ost, a promise; neh, a loss... the Standing Man is part of one of our oldest legends, Kate. I think I see where this will lead us and I wish to all the gods we didn't have to walk down that road. Can you find your way back to the library?"

I nodded, arms around myself, feeling a bit unnerved by her tone.

"Good. I'll go get Pyre - your guide - and we'll talk. Starlight and the Standing Man." She shivered and hurried out of the room almost as fast as the eager-to-gossip Peek. I turned back to the mirror, running one hand across the glass, speaking softly into the silence.

"Aisha... wherever you are, whatever you've gotten into, don't worry. I'm coming."

My fingers traced the frame's edge a moment more, then I too hurried out the room, realizing that I should have asked Buttercream in which of the five libraries she'd led me through she meant for us to meet.

- - - - -

"You know, where I come from they'd throw you OUT of the library for doing this... then again, where I come from most libraries don't have forests back in the stacks."

My Guide gave me a rather patronizing smile, Buttercream was busy feeding leaves plucked a moment ago from my hair into the little fire she'd built in a brass basin, but Peek at least was willing to share my amusement. Of course, as she was also helping me stir the soapy water in preparation for blowing bubbles (and getting a fair amount of soap flakes all over the carpet) this wasn't too surprising. We kept stirring as Pyre chanted and Buttercream burned shrubbery, long enough for my arms to get a bit tired and my attention to wander to the living shelves.

This library had several huge trees comprising a large chunk of its substance, hollows in their trunks and low, unusually broad, flattened branches becoming shelves and cupboards, books stacked here and there, most of them written on obviously handmade paper, some with carved wooden covers. I wasn't sure why this particular library had been chosen, or how they got the trees to grow on carpet, or for that matter why I'd been given a huge metal wand that was quite obviously modeled on the little plastic bubble wands that I'd used as a kid... I just trusted that my companions had a good reason for it.

My attention was drawn back to the huge wooden tub in front of me when Peek dropped the rest of the soap flakes in, tossing the empty pouch aside and barely missing my head with it. As she announced the level of the suds Pyre nodded, bringing his chanting to an abrupt peak, the unknown words nearly shouted - I couldn't keep from glancing over my shoulder guiltily, it being a library - then sank to a whisper, a few short syllables repeated over and over almost under his breath.

"Now, Kate. Dip, stand, wave... and don't forget to catch the one that starts glowing!"

One bubble... two... three... I flailed the wand about, trying my best to watch each bubble, waiting for one to start glowing. When the flash of light did come it startled me, little more than a faint illumination, a candle's worth, not the huge neon gleam I'd somehow been expecting. Still, I saw it, and reached out hesitantly for the bubble.

It floated down, its light flickering, brightening slightly, taking on an oddly green tone. When it touched my hands I gasped, having to struggle suddenly, surprised again. It didn't weigh MUCH, but it certainly weighed more than any other bubble I'd ever seen, seeming to take on the texture of leaves against my palms.

"A name... a face... anything..."

I glanced up, saw the other three watching as intently as I'd been, all focused on what looked like a fragile bubble one moment, a perfect crystal the next, then a swirl of leaves, then a burst of color, then...

...then, faintly, a girl. A Dryad, if the leaves wrapping her were any indication. She was playing with a huge purple flower, other such flowers blooming from the ivy-leaved plant she was ensconced in, her eyes glittering oddly.

"Dammit, not Tieste. I KNOW her. She wouldn't... dammit." Pyre's voice was low but the tone, regret and denial and a hint of betrayed pride, pulled my gaze away from my handful of soap and magic even as I noticed another face in it, young, perhaps a boy... I locked my eyes on his face as the bubble in my hands burst, a strange scent filling the air around us. He inhaled once before his face blanched.

"No."

"No what?" Peek queried, looking at him as curiously as the rest of us now were. He shook his head, pale, almost angry.

"I know who put the curse on you, Kate. Her name is Tieste, and I would have sworn she was one of us, or as close as a Wilding is ever likely to come. I know who convinced her to do it - she goes by Ketch, and..."

It took Buttercream padding over to him, her hands enfolding his, her understanding gaze holding him, to get him to finish.

"...and I think my..." he winced, "...my brother is with them. My ~dead~ brother."

- - - - - Kebechet - - - - -

he truce hadn't come easy for either of them but all things considered, Kebechet had the easier end of it. She was, after all, giving up something that wasn't hers to keep regardless... and only surrendering this precious prize temporarily, to earn a few more days, weeks, of time before her pleasure came to an end. She was dreading that day, had been dreading it since the first week, trying to think of some way to keep her treasure.

Tieste's trick had been her idea, something mentioned in passing when the flame-eyed man checked in on his property. She had brought the creature up to the surface for a while, allowing him to spend some time on dry land, sprawled in the sun. He'd been begging nicely for a while but she hadn't really bothered until then; her timing was, she thought afterward, perfect as always.

Particularly since the boy had been foolish enough to try climbing a tree. Admittedly, he'd had no way to know that there was another Fae in residence there, spending a few days in its shelter before continuing her journey, but she HAD told him to stay close to the river. She found him entangled in a snare of harepaw vines and kutsau, the brilliant blossoms of the kutsau almost completely covering his face...

...by the time she'd stopped laughing and introduced herself to his captor, explained her ownership of him, the two females were talking and smiling with a companionship that Kebechet had never really experienced in the company of anyone in... in... she couldn't even remember how long. Time enough that the memory was faded, the faces worn away, nothing left but a faint sense of deja vu that made her dizzy for a moment.

When she mentioned her new friend to her Dog's other owner - already she had a hard time not considering the boy hers as well, hers to keep - his eyes lit up and he suggested that perhaps she could keep her playtoy a bit longer if she'd ask this other, this Tieste, for a favor.

Just a little one.

Nothing hard. Something right up Tieste's alley, from the sound of things. Something she'd enjoy.

Both to convince her and to aid her Kebechet loaned Tieste the prize for a day, let her friend use him to base the curse-spell around, his blood and his tears and... It wasn't easy to hand him over but then, it wasn't easy for Tieste to agree to work any of her hard-learned and hard-won tricks for someone else's benefit. She'd spent a year trapped in a rather small clay bottle by an uneducated wannabe-warlock, kept away from the touch of fresh air, from the sun, from water and wind, while he tried to steal her magics for himself.

She wasn't gentle with the boy.

He clung to Kebechet when he returned, begging not to be given to the woodsprite again, promising anything, as long as he could stay safe with her. He already knew better than to ask to go back to Dai Colere.

- - - - - Aisha - - - - -

I hadn't even been sure I could sleep that night, knowing that the next day we would leave what I already regarded as safety. Quite the little hunting party - myself, my Guide, Buttercream, Peek - who had for some unknown reason insisted on coming along - and a few other Fae to escort us for at least the first few days' journey. Once we got close to this Burning Man, whatever the hell it was, they would be headed back... and we would continue. I didn't quite know why I was so nervous, although I blamed everone else for their knowing looks and utter refusal to explain why THEY were afraid of this Burning thing.

Shaking my head, I curled up in the bed, almost comforted by the rustle of leaves as well as hair when my head turned on the pillow. They were beginning to feel familiar, no longer so invasive.

Of course, that worried me too.

Still, worry or not, unknown or not, danger or not, we would be leaving. A good step forward for finding a cure. Maybe there'd be some hint as to where Aisha went too; it didn't sound like anyone had looked where we were about to go. I settled back, eyes closing...

...and slipped into a dream. I knew it was a dream, knew that I was still asleep in the bed, perfectly safe, and yet there in front of me was the same girl I'd seen in the bubble, her skin and clothing patterned with leaves, colored in a hundred shades of green and brown. Something about her outfit caught my eye, hints of what I would have called 'punk' adding the 'wild' to Wildling, spiked cuffs and lengths of chain and...

...and there was a chain leading from her hand to someone else, someone who seemed almost to glow, undeniably alive, more solid somehow than the girl who held him. The boy I'd glimpsed, I guessed, although it was hard to tell with his head bowed. He looked familiar in another way, one I couldn't quite put my finger on, and the light of him nearly blinded me when he shifted slightly, pulsing and gleaming and screaming of power...

...and then I saw the other one. Shadowed, only a hint of him there, as if he too were watching from some distant dream. He wasn't looking as intently as I was, though. Hard to look intently at anything when your head is thrown back and you appear to be on the best drug high the world has ever known. Trails of that light, that brilliant power, were trickling upward from the bound boy, filling the shadow watcher, clearly the source of his pleasure...

...Dai Colere...

...and the moment I so much as thought the name his eyes opened, peering, focused, suddenly widening as they met my own...

...and then there was a red-haired, cat-eared creature barely a foot tall sitting on my chest and quite happily eating the leaves out of my hair, looking rather startled when I sat up fast enough to send it flying off the bed to land on the floor. Quite offended, it spat something at me in a voice that sounded suspiciously like a very good impression of something from the Three Stooges, flipped me off, and padded out of the room on all fours, both tails in the air.

I wondered if they had any decent sources of caffeine... suddenly, I wanted to stay up late and wake up early.