by M.C. O'Neill
***WOWWOWWOW***
You’re the Devil in Me
The bright afternoon sun was bothering Minn’dre’s eyes with a fierce sting and she wished that the usual grey periods of Atlantean spring would return. So many days in that terrible mental ward were taking its toll on her system and almost every body-process of hers seemed to be revolting against her. Her memory of that stay and the full day before it began was something of a blur, but it was told that she had been troublesome to the staff of that circle.
“Aw, Mother, my head is still pounding,” she moaned as she caressed her bumping temples. She had never hated sunshine so much and plenty of it was spilling through the kitchen’s curtains.
“Here, let me close the shutters too. I’m so sorry that this happened.” Her mother was still in a state of confusion as to Minn’dre’s hospitalization, even though the wardens had diagnosed her with acute panic symptoms due to mild head trauma and a possible dissociative episode; whatever that meant. “Minnie, what exactly did happen?”
“Okay,” Minn’dre began. “Let me just say that I only went to the Royal Arena for the address with some friends last week. Then that Travius guy tried to assassinate the king. It was chaos getting out of there and there were all these armors everywhere.” Her recollection of the incident was becoming foggy at this point, but since she was telling her mother a half-truth anyway, the maiden decided to ride with whatever her mind threw at her.
“All right, then what,” her mother began to pour her some hollyroot into a cup. The sharp smell of it hit Minn’dre’s nose and she winced in minor revulsion.
“Then, there was this lady; she was a bit older than us, maybe an upper master’s student. I don’t know for sure, but she said that she knew one of my friends and she wanted to hang with us so she wouldn’t have to go through the checkpoint at the gates.” She hated lying to her mother, but she also didn’t want to give her a heart attack by informing her that she was a member of the infamous Black Hood. Well, whatever was left of them.
The young lady looked over to the refrigerator and just the sloped shape of it induced hunger pangs. It had to have been at least four days since she had a proper meal that either wasn’t liquefied or shoved into her arm. Most of all, she wanted meat, which was odd because she detested the stuff under normal circumstances. “Anyway, this maiden was really weird, right? And then we all verchin vizh nyezh stammit gereitsig zist zhie…”
Mother’s eyes popped open in disbelief. Was her daughter rambling on in another language? “Minnie, what did you just say? I didn’t catch that.”
“I just said that the lady was weird and we were waiting around trying to decide if we should try to ditch her,” she shot her stunned mother a concerned look. “Was I mumbling or something? They put me on lots of Manalite at that health circle.”
“Honey, it sounded like you just finished your last sentence in perfect Thuless’in,” Mother shook her head in vexed wonder. “Have you been studying Thuless’in at the university?”
“Eww, no way!” Minn’dre winced at the suggestion. “That tongue is totally ugly. I’m all about Kumari. It’s much better for my Mystical Civilizations courses and, even then, I’m not that fluent. It’s a pretty tough shashna sin gholtish shan ver denni purru’ya dum’bai gonn.”
“Minnie!” mother was in a happy shock. “That was definitely fluent Kumari! My gods! You really have been studying up!”
“Seriously! I just told you that it’s really tough and hope to one day become fluent in it,” she met her mother’s excited mood with a jump. “Why? Did I just speak Kumari and not know it?”
“Oh, yes you did!” Mother beamed with pride. “As a matter-of-fact, you sounded just like an actress straight out of a Lank’aawood movie.”
Minn’dre shared Mother’s excitement, but not of the same variety. How could it be possible that her mind knew the thousands of words from both Thuless’in and Kumari without much or any training? She’d been on a vacation here or there to other places in her life and considered herself rather well-read, but her exposures to such tongues were fleeting at best. What was worse, she didn’t even realize that she was slipping into them. Perhaps the wardens were right about her. Maybe she was going crazy and assuming multiple personalities. But why develop such a condition now? That Sammian freak only knocked her out. Back when she was in adept’s school, she had witnessed many of her burlier classmates get punched unconscious at least once a month and none of them could slip into fluent languages from far away afterwards.
“Oh Mother, I’m going crazy!” she tucked her blond head under her arms. “I don’t know what’s happening to me!”
“Minn’dre, just have some of this tea.” Mother shoved a cup of the disgusting liquid next to her crushed form on the nook’s table. “It’s hollyroot. It’ll really help calm your…”
“Gods! Get it away from me!” The look on the maiden’s face was, for an instant, murderous, as if Mother had just offered her a tall glass of red mana. “I’m going to wretch.”
“Minn’dre, I’m just trying to…”
“You’re trying to kill me, you old wench!” Her daughter rose from her slump with athletic might and stood before the lady like a royal before an insubordinate. “How dare you attempt to infiltrate my body with that foul trash?” Without effort, Minn’dre swiped the cup off the table as Mother watched it sail off into the kitchen’s wall.
“Minnie! Stop it! What is wrong with you?” her mother couldn’t contain her horror as this behavior was all but alien of her daughter. She wished that her husband were there just in case Minn’dre turned violent. The wardens at the circle had informed her of her daughter’s outbursts and she wished that she could have visited her sooner, but with the martial law and being cooped in that blasted shelter all morning, she just didn’t have the opportunity. Something dreadful was happening to her daughter’s mind, and she was now beginning to have terrible suspicions.
“Minn’dre,” her mother began in a calming tone. “Does this have something to do with your university friends? I mean, you are officially an adult now and I know it’s not my business, but…,” thoughts of her making a wreck of the place were beginning to agitate her. “But if you expect to live under this roof, you are going to need to talk to me about these outbursts.”
“Mother, I’m not on drugs or lotus juice or anything like that. My friends are all fine,” she had reverted in an instant to her old composure and this too confused Mother. It was almost schizophrenic. “I…I don’t understand what’s happening to me, and frankly, I think I need to run to the bathroom and get sick.”
“Minnie, I’m sorry, I just…,” Mother couldn’t make any sense of what put her in the hospital in the first place, but whatever they had tried there must not have worked out very well.
Just last week she had made the Academic Warden’s list and was quite involved in extracurricular activities. All that political stuff and whatnot. She was even involved with her day job and got along well with the other staff at the Sea and Shell. Feelings of anger and worry and confusion flashed in various increments through her heart. Lady Harvatt regretted sounding threatening about her living under her roof, but she was certain to have hoped that this behavior would not become an ongoing trend. For a second, she wished school had not been cancelled and the maiden lived back in the dorms.
Never before was Minn’dre so thankful to see the toilet. By pure luck, the outer ring was up so she could do her digestive business because she truly thought that she couldn’t hold in her meager contents for much longer. Whatever drugs those wardens had treated her with must have given her a violent aversion to holly, because just the memory of its pungent odor was enough to make her flash.
It felt like hours had passed as she knelt before the basin. Taking a good, honest inventory of her recent past, she knew that this wasn’t some freak bout of morning sickness and, since this was in the middle of the afternoon, any possible natal situations could be ruled out. Either way, she was worried that s
he was going insane in general, and her body was reacting to her new state of chaotic mind. The whole process of throwing up was so repellant to her, but she could feel her body and soul being cleansed with each purging heave, as if to make way for a new Minn’dre. Sometimes, she thought, new was not necessarily better.
By the time she could stand up again, she could still feel her legs wobble like wet reeds. The mirror treated her to a hot horror. Her eyes were still the same ice blue as they had always been. She was half-Thuless’in, after all, but there was a difference to them that she had to think about to identify. The pupils seemed much larger and this made the blue ring around them look less powerful. Put together, this combination made her look insane indeed, yet somehow much more intelligent than she fancied herself to be, and she considered herself pretty smart.
For what seemed like half of an eternity, she stared at her eyes and felt conflicting moments of giddy glee and spite for herself. She carried spite for pretty much everything, truth be told. It was almost as if the very atmosphere of the earth itself was a disgusting notion and she just wanted to flush the whole globe down the toilet. Elves, birds, bees and beasts. Not out of hate for the forms themselves, but out of, perhaps, jealousy? Everything had to go, and yet, another part of her reviled upon those intrusive thoughts.
Something amazing was getting ready to happen and she needed to speak with those things that had just produced themselves from out of the pyramids. It was almost as if divine providence had released her from that foul health circle so she could make contact with them. They were waiting for her and she needed to observe them. But why, she wondered? This was, to be sure, a strange occurrence, but how could she be involved with any of them? What were they in all honesty? The news reported that they are from another world and that, except for wings on their backs, they were much like ordinary elves. One of their representatives even claimed that they were the genetic analogs of the elven race or some such nonsense. She had always learned in school that dolphins were their forefathers, but what did all those haughty scholars really know?
All Minn’dre wanted to do was to lie down and sleep. It was true that was what she had been doing for the most part of the full past week, but the aftershock of all the poking and prodding and drugging had taken quite a toll on her system, and she figured that was what all this was attributing to. Her strange eyes, her outbursts and her strange aversions were probably the aftereffects of too much Manalite. That had to be it. Perhaps even her polyglottal fugues were induced by her brutal treatment at the hands of the health wardens? Maybe the drugs had unlocked some hidden knowledge in her brain? Whatever the source of her situation, she needed to collect herself with some rest and with a hopeful blessing, some good dreams.
“Honey, are you all right?” Mother called from down the hall as Minn’dre rushed away to plop onto her awaiting bed. “Minnie?”
“Yeah, Mother, I’ll be fine,” she hollered back. “I just need to crash out. This has all been way too much for me today.”
“Well, okay, but if you need any…,” Minn’dre drowned out her mother’s voice with a soft slam to her door.
Her room looked just the way she left it when she last woke up there almost a week ago, but her emotional memory of it was forgotten. The place could have been just another mental ward as far as her heart was concerned. She hated that feeling and she just wanted everything to get back to normal. She just wanted to get back to the days before she ever heard of that Sammian lady. It was her. Sammian was the reason for all of this, but she couldn’t quite pin in her mind as to why.
Propped against the side of her bed in the gloomy room, her tablet rested, beckoning. She needed to get back in the flow with her friends or someone else so the familiarity she longed for would resurface. Examining her messages would help expedite that journey, she supposed.
Message after message, the glowing inbox had all but filled in her absence. Sure, there was the obligatory spam from Manamart. She kicked herself for ever getting on that list. No matter how hard she had tried to opt-out, the messages would still arrive. Many of her Black Hood, or was it former Black Hood, compatriots mailed her as well. Most of them, barring Travius, who was most certain never going to touch a tablet again, except to sign his execution scroll, had messaged her in frenzies informing her of their status. After some mandatory interrogation by the government, all were let off the hook, and once they had undergone intensive biomana scans, their exoneration process was complete.
Her work messaged her and informed her that she was fired and had already been replaced by another barista. Wonderful, she thought. Perhaps she could use the extra time to volunteer with a real and less extremist political party. Now that these aliens had landed, she was sure that somebody’s entourage needed an extra hand out there.
As for her old and certain-to-be defunct political group, she could have cared less. The case was closed as far as she figured it. Travius was correct about the kingdom’s meddling with Mars and, so it seemed, the expedition had paid dearly for it. Sometimes she hated being right, and especially, when it was too late. Mission accomplished. Whoopee.
One message that piqued her interest was from On’dinn Jak’sin. Upon closer inspection, he had left a few of them. The poor guy was so smitten with her, but without the Black Hood, what in actuality was the purpose of their relationship, she considered? He was still in adept school and had quite some time left in it at that. The maiden was worried that she had led him on, but in all honesty, she was just reciprocating his attentions in her own style. If he misconstrued it as something more, he would just have to get over it. She was an adult now (although she didn’t always feel like it) and the dramas of adept school were just out of the scope of her person. Been there, done that.
FROM: Basil
TO: Nightbloom
Hey, I went to visit you at the Health Circle and you were really out of it. You didn’t mean to call me those names, did you? No, I know you didn’t. You were just in a haze or something. But, I’m so worried about you. You must call me when you get out of there. Please get well soon.
This would prove to be tough, Minn’dre fussed. She would have to let the scamp down easy, but the lad’s convictions could be very gripping. Groping through her nightstand in the room which she had left dark, she could feel the shape of her phone. Any light at that moment would make her head feel like it was fit to explode.
“On’dinn. It’s me,” she whispered into the device as she braced herself for his wired response.
“Minnie! Where are you! Oh my gods, I can’t believe you actually called back! It’s been like four…”
“On’dinn, please. I need you to calm down some.” As she had suspected, his prattle was triggering another throbbing headache. She hoped that this conversation wouldn’t spark a fight or a bout of tears. There just wasn’t enough juice in the patience department for her at that time.
“Okay. Okay, I’m calm,” he assured her. “I just don’t understand what’s happened to you. You know, we both got bonked on the head by that Sammian witch but, frankly, I must have received the longer end of the stick. Shoot, I even went to a party with the Zobbos on Saturnalia!”
“On’dinn,” Minn’dre was having difficulty mustering the words of what she wanted to say to him, not so much that it would break his heart, but more so that it wouldn’t break her nerves. “On’dinn, I’m caught up in something really strange.”
“What do you mean?” he felt somewhat sick as he could sense by the heavy tone in her voice that she wanted to end this call as fast as possible, perhaps permanently. “The Black Hood is free now. I don’t get it.”
“It’s like I’m going through a weird change or something. I don’t understand it myself,” she paused to collect her thoughts and choose her words. “I’m not in league with anyone if that’s what you think. It’s just that I feel so… different.”
“No, it’s just all the Manalite from the wardens,” he tried to reason with her in a panic. “I
saw you yesterday and you were really out of it. It was like you were being controlled by someone else. Heh, you even told the psychwarden that his wife was cheating on him, and from the look on his face, I think you were right!”
“Yeah,” she began. “Not only that, I’m now speaking in multiple languages fluently. Heh, ‘press ‘one’ for Atlantean…’ Oh, and I keep blacking out and the sun makes my head want to split wide open. Look, I’m so sorry that you got caught up with the Black Hood like that. I just…”
“But joining was my choice!” he protested. “You had nothing to do with that. Had I never signed up, I would probably have never met you. I knew the risks, Minnie.”
“I know. I understand,” she huffed as she collected her words with some more care. “What I mean is there is something inside of me. Something in my head and even the psychwardens are saying that I may have another personality or something. The point is, On’dinn, is that I’m dangerous for you.”
“Don’t say that!” he was becoming rifled again and his heightened pitch stabbed Minn’dre’s ear. He sounded so young at that moment. “You have just been let out of the Health Circle! It’ll take a little time, but I’ll still be there for…,”
“No,” she admonished him. Her temper was beginning to flare as this was just what she had been expecting and that was quite an annoying premonition. “Don’t say that, because I can’t be there for you. As a matter-of-fact, I won’t be there for you because I don’t want you to get hurt. I just don’t know what I’m liable to do or what I may drag you into again.”
“So what, exactly, are you trying to say?” the elf was now heated in full and the maiden could tell that he was going to either begin yelling or weeping. This was going south in a flash. “Are you trying to say you want me to stop calling you? To never hang out with you again?”
“What’s the point, On’dinn?” she snapped at him. “The Black Hood is finished! I’m going totally insane and you are just too…”
“Too what, Minnie?” he challenged. “Go ahead. Say it.”
“Young,” she gave him his expected answer. “You’re too young to get caught up with me. I don’t even know what’s happening with my head and you are just too young to have the wherewithal to deal with it. Sorry.”
“Fine, Minnie,” he shot back with dejected pride. “If that must be the way it has to be, I’ll leave you and your alternate personalities, as you claim, to yourselves. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am going to go and play with my rubber ducky.”
“No, On’dinn. Don’t be like…”
“Bye!” he hollered in childish rage as he left the flow with an abrupt cut to the flow.
“Well, that went fabulously,” she said to the empty darkness of her room. Minn’dre admitted to herself that his little tantrum did reveal his true age and what a difference the two made when it came to problem solving. Perhaps, she considered, in a few years he would be more ready for her, or someone like her, but he was just born too late. The lad had plenty of potential, but now was not the time for her, and probably for him as well, to develop any kind of meaningful relationship. Mars was now a no-go, the Black Hood vilified, the whole kingdom was under martial law, and these beings from another planet had stopped by Earth to have a chat. So much was happening in the world that the notion of hooking up with a male seemed so miniscule.
“Yes, you handled that well, Minn’dre,” the voice said from behind, or perhaps, beside her.
“What?” the maiden’s pointed ears shot up like twittering antennae in a storm. “Who said that? Where are you? I-I have a caster!”
“No need to muster any arms against me, Lady Harvatt,” it continued. “I am friendly.”
With frantic haste, she summoned the lights on in her room. Despite her time there, the walls still seemed unfamiliar as she had not yet adjusted to her old surroundings. Even her prized Maladroit poster looked all but foreign. “All right, then, Friend. Where are you? Show yourself!”
“Minn’dre, I am above and so below. I am here, and yet, I am elsewhere.” His voice, if it was a “he,” was rather soothing to her mind. He not only sounded friendly, but sagacious, however, his enigmatic speech was really working on her tender nerves.
“Whoever you are,” she spoke up to her bare ceiling. “You sound more like a monk in a bad Tel’lemurian chop-socky movie. Can it with the esoteric talk, and just tell me who you are, because you have been causing me nothing but trouble this past week and, frankly, I think I’m going mentally insane!”
“Well, now!” the voice cooed. “You need not be rude, but my apologies, Minn’dre. My name is Lucifer. You may call me that, as I am known by many names. You are not afflicted mentally or cognitively, of this I assure you. I am just sharing you with yourself for now. Does that make sense?”
“So, you’re the one that keeps putting foreign words into my mouth?” she belted back.
“Well, yes, I am again sorry about that,” he answered. “I just need to adapt to your vocal patterns for when I need to speak through you. Don’t worry; I will not hijack your voice with mine when I need to do this. That would be rather funny though, don’t you think?”
“No, Lucifer. It would not be very funny,” she retorted in a matter-of-fact groan.
“Why are you here? Why me?” she pled. “I still can’t understand the nature of what’s happening here and I think I’m just going to ignore you,” her temper and fear were both rising and she just wanted to go back to sleep. For days, if need be.
“We have much work to do,” he said. “That will just not be an option for you, I am sad to say. Are you aware of that mark on your back? That is my entry point and it allowed me to…let us just say, ‘hitchhike.’”
“What!” Minn’dre jumped out of her bed with more energy than she had felt in days and threw her spring tunic off. In the mirror, she saw that the symbol was still there and was just as fresh as it was when she had first received it. On her lower back, a red circle housing a triangle stared back angrily at her twisted, topless form. She found it disgusting and freakish.
“Get it off of me!” she demanded of her ceiling again.
“Oh, dearest Minn’dre, I don’t think you would want that to happen,” Lucifer warned.
“Why not?” she challenged. “You put it on there, now be gone with it!”
“If I were to do that, I would be stuck within you permanently!” he explained. “We wouldn’t want that now, would we? Let me just say that I am in league with your Earth’s most gracious visitors. I suppose you could say that I hold an upper office with them. What I am doing is like a remote control contact method, if you will. The process is relatively painless, and you won’t be any the wiser to its machinations. Do not worry that I will emit any embarrassments with your mouth, for I am quite in control and know what I am doing.”
“Tell that to my creepy psychwarden!” Minn’dre rebelled while trying to keep her voice down. She feared attracting her mother’s attention only to have her bear witness to her talking to herself. “The one you freaked out because I had to tell him about his philandering wife!”
“Eh, yes, my apologies,” Lucifer replied with a sheepish smirk. “That wasn’t me. Seriously.”
“That’s what all the guys say…,” the maiden mumbled.
“What? I don’t quite follow,” the alien voice said in honest vexation.
“It’s nothing,” Minn’dre brushed her long blond bang behind her ear. “Just your typical male problems. Lack of accountability and whatnot. You wouldn’t understand.”
“Oh, I’m sure I would know all about that,” he intoned upon her clarification. This one was willful, he decided, but weren’t all elves by nature? “Regardless, I wish for you to go to the mirror now. I need to finish my vocal attenuation with you.”
“Your what? Your vocal atten…,” she was becoming more confused, despite now knowing the name of her psychic captor.
“Go to the mirror and look at it,” Lucifer instructed. “Clear your mind and le
t the words come out. Do not hold back and don’t fight it. That could prove to be a bit unpleasant for you.”
It was pointless in trying to wrench normalcy back into her life. Turning herself around in full, Minn’dre stared deep into her own eyes. The blue rings were being swallowed away by the black of her pupils. It was like an aperture on a manamirror. As she was no longer in control of herself, she gave in to the compulsion to open her mouth.
“Aye-Eee-Eye-Oh-Yoo…”
“Aaa-Eh-I-Ah-Uh…”
The elfmaid raised her head and tilted it back as if to expel a gigantic sneeze. Instead of mucous and sputum, a torrent of blood sprayed the glass and it almost covered her reflection. The young lady’s face smiled through the red grue with empty eyes.
“Hello,” the intruder said in his gentle way by using Minn’dre’s dripping mouth and voice. “My name is Lucifer.”
Sugary Tea
“And then, he practically grabbed me and told me to come back! As if he owned me!” Quen’die frowned for a moment as more worries gripped her mind. “I’m just afraid that he may try to hurt Father in retaliation. He’s staying in the same hostel!”
As always, Nanna Orsi sat back and reflected each of her granddaughter’s words in her calm way. She had a manner about her that could not be shaken, and as the years passed, her tolerance to drama, especially those dramas concerning the heart, were easier and easier to navigate.
“Bunny, I really don’t believe you have anything in that manner to worry over. Mavriel has his intentions, but by no means are they what they seem.” She paused again as she peered out the old picture window at the dimming evening sky. “He is of a, well, different variety than us.”
“What do you mean?” Quen’die’s eyes bulged with wonder. Nanna knew many things about pretty much everything, but how would it be possible that she had any compact with some random lad from the wilds of Avalon? “Don’t tell me you know him too? He’s quite popular for a foreigner, I guess. First Father and now, you.”
Nanna smiled and turned her attentions into her granddaughter’s direct gaze. The old lady was as lucid as ever and senility was never a wonder about her. “Yes, Quen’die. I suppose you could say that I know him.”
The young maiden slunk back into the posh antique chair which was, without a doubt, centuries old. Such a declaration tore at her nervous system and flared-up her cramps. Her birthday was this weekend and she prayed to the Twelve that these aches would subside by that time. It was as if a painful game of Ping-Pong was being played on each half of her body and it was going into overtime. Nanna was something of an herbal connoisseur and the elfmaid hoped that she had some decent tea around to remedy this. That, or healthy dose of Manalite. “Okay, that was the last thing I needed to hear right now. Eww…Cramps! Need tea, now!”
This lit Nanna’s face into a sunbeam. Quen’die had been experiencing these bouts for the past few years and they tended to hit her to a rather violent degree. “Oh, Dee, I have just the remedy for this. Let me get some of that chamomile.”
“Is it the real stuff?” the elfmaid asked as she was close to being doubled over.
“Of course!” Nanna intoned with pride. “I would never put that corporate mana-infused rubbish into my body. It doesn’t work anyway. You know, I still need this from time to time myself.”
“No offense, Nanna, but aren’t you a little old for that?” Quen’die’s sharp brows were cocked in slight disbelief.
“Well, some of us still keep going, I suppose,” she said as she made her way to an old ornate cabinet. Spices, herbs, and potions bristled in a variety of cryptic containers. The ages of these ingredients and their origins were a complete mystery to Quen’die, but Nanna had them all. Each and every one of them could remedy some sort of ailment and, if mixed in the right fashion, much quicker than any mass-market synthetic.
“Now, let’s see…ah, here is the chamomile,” she grabbed an old jade decanter. Judging by its scuffed surface, the thing could have been an official ancient article as far as Quen’die knew. “Let’s see those blasted civil wardens try to ration this from me, eh? Speaking of which, I still have a stockpile of all the sugar we’ll need in the larder. They always seem to ration sugar throughout martial law for some reason.”
Her nanna was right. It was the perfect prescription for the problem as Quen’die could feel the hot drink massage her innards without any pressure. It was such a strange experience, but her nerves seemed to calm down as well. “Oh, thank you, Nanna!”
“It’s good, yes?” Nanna was savoring her own cup of it. “I acquired it directly from Kev’ryss. Like I said, it’s the real stuff.”
“Heh, it’s hard to believe that anything good could come from the home of stupid Kyrin Tynko,” Quen’die joked as she gobbled the hot medicine with the gusto of a red water buffalo.
“Look, Quen’die, not all that comes out of Thuless’in is evil or bad,” Nanna lectured. “That’s just propaganda. During my travels in my youth, I had met many amazing people from there and they were just as grand as the best our kingdom could offer. Oh, I remember An’drigg Froy’tagg. My, he was something else.” Nanna let out a rather amorous sigh as a devious grin crossed her face.
“Nanna! My ears!” Quen’die laughed at her innuendo.
“Anyway,” the lady saved. “Speaking of males, your Mavriel, as I have said, is something special. I really do wish you would have listened to what he had to say, but I can understand how a young maiden like you would feel the need to keep up her guard.”
“You can say that again,” Quen’die reasoned as she went for another swig. “For instance, my runta captain turned out to be a total drunk! How can a maiden know the real elf from a total loser? I guess it’s like Rylla was saying, that you need to step back for a moment and take a good look. Use your intuition and stuff.”
Nanna laughed at that. “Yes, Rylla is a wise one. Well, at least streetwise. A true lady will always go with her guts. So many males out there are quite good at using a social camouflage that we females can easily see through if you know what to look for.” Nanna laughed even more heartily. “When we call them out on their devices, they always look so confused, and hopefully run away!”
“It’s totally easy, and even I still don’t know what I’m doing!” the maiden exclaimed. “Like, I already know that On’dinn Jak’sin is insecure despite all his political posturing.”
“Certainly,” Nanna agreed. “You can feel it all by the way he carries himself. You must remember that only twenty percent of our communication is verbal. I believe our males don’t truly know this. After all, have you noticed how much his ears twitch when he speaks? Now, that’s a dead giveaway.”
Nanna’s manascreen came to life without a warning or a summons. Splashed across the canvas, the graphic for the Atlantean Emergency Network scrolled with pride as the national anthem was blaring. The presentation gave both Lady Orsi and Quen’die a jump causing the young elfmaid to wobble her teacup and almost drop it.
After the extravagant display of national identification, the familiar face of Quay’liss Dalian adorned the screen and she was once again looking in top form with the blond of her hair almost overtaken by a shimmering blue dye. As per usual, this reporter worked her way to monopolize the coverage of the new arrivals to the kingdom.
“Good evening Atlantis!” the newsie began. “Quay’liss Dalian here, and I’m standing in the middle of the Central Avenue of Heroes with an amazing report from our newly-arrived guests from the Aldebaran system! With me now is High President Glasya Labolas who would love to share an announcement with everyone in the kingdom! These are privileged words, and no editing or redacting has been employed. Please, dearest viewers, take these words to heart as we are about to learn who the Aldebarans really are and why their visit to our world is so important! President Glasya.”
“Many thanks, Lady Dalian,” the majestic being before the manamirrors possessed an awesome beauty that could not be matched by any lady that Quen
’die had ever seen on the screen or in person. She was of elven stock; she had to be, as she had ears of the most elegant pointing and a facial structure that was a perfect blend of chiseled softness. Her skin was almost as brazen as a high elf, but it carried a golden sheen to it that was unlike any race known to Earth. The most striking feature was her hair which was like spun copper yet not coppery-red and sculpted into perfect curls separated by the bluntest of bangs. Quen’die could not take her eyes off the screen and was studying in the back of her mind the ways in which she could emulate that amazing hairdo. Like Mavriel, this Glasya looked like a living statue and made for a wonderful close-up.
“Oh, I really wish the government would not just cut in like that,” Nanna moaned. “Its abruptness nearly gave me a heart attack!”
“Lords and Ladies of Atlantis,” the president began. “We of the Aldebaran Hegemony offer you another greeting. It is our wish to inform you that your troubles with the Martian crisis are to be remedied with our most gracious assistance. There have been many reports circulating throughout your kingdom that we are your forefathers. This rumor is not a falsity as we have, eons ago, spread our seed on your surface. As you can see by my very features, we do share many biological similarities and this is no coincidence. You are essentially our children and we have arrived here to rescue you from a most distressing dilemma.”
“But Nanna!” Quen’die yelped. “How can they be like us if they have wings?”
Nanna Orsi raised a hand to shush her granddaughter. The maiden could see that the wise old lady was studying the High President like she was a lab rat. As far as Quen’die could tell by the concerted frown on her face, Nanna was not convinced of her report one hundred percent.
“As you all know,” the strange lady on the screen continued. “You have been the subject of an unfortunate event on your Martian colony. I assure you people that this crisis has not been fully quelled. Your expedition has been ruined by the barbaric native forces of that planet. We have been observing your progress there from a distance and we have tried desperately to arrest such a travesty in time, but our forces could not reach yours quick enough. For this, we apologize.”
“This is all too weird for me,” Quen’die blurted. “I still don’t get this, and I don’t like it.”
“Oh, I don’t either,” Nanna agreed as her eyes were still affixed to the screen.
“To be blunt,” Glasya continued. “Your expedition has been compromised by your ancient enemies whom you call the orcs. Mars is one of their homeworlds and your curiosity of it has sparked a renewed feud between them and your people. Actually, this hostility is older than your people’s existence, as we Aldebarans have been plunged into various wars and debates with an older variety of this rather uncompromising race of people throughout the ages in our home system.”
Quen’die slapped her hand to her face as this information was shoving spikes of ice through her back. What would happen and how could elfdom even pray to resist the age-old power of these terrible beasts? Nanna, on the other hand, sunk back in her chair and cocked a disbelieving eyebrow, with elegance, as always.
“With a heavy heart,” Glasya bowed her brazen head. “It is the duty of my High Command to inform you that the invidious forces of the Martian orcs are en route to your planet. Your civilization is not prepared to have a shred of hope to defeat these beings as they are immune to your defenses for the most part.”
Quen’die began dripping tears by pure reflex upon hearing this. Her grandmother placed a gentle hand on her arm, but the young maiden could not feel it. At that moment she felt more alone than she did when Venn’lith had delivered her tragic demands the week before. How could the entire population of Earth figure a way to repel an onslaught of these creatures?
“Fear not, good people of Atlantis and all of the earth!” Glasya raised a lithe fist in wan triumph. “We of the Aldebaran Hegemony have prepared a complete plan which will usher in your salvation! With our tutelage, our powers will be combined to escape from this terrible incident, as we love you with our hearts and souls. You are, after all, our children and we cannot bear to abandon you to an impossible fate. Think not of this as a defeat, my noble progeny, for this is an opportunity to enjoy a new life on a new world which we have prepared for you through diligent study and scouting.”
Dalian paused at this. Her unshakeable demeanor and delivery, which was almost a trademark for her, was arrested by what Glasya was getting at. “So, if I am hearing this correctly, you are saying we need to…evacuate? Evacuate our planet?”
The High President let go a small grin. “Evacuation is the best solution our people have for you, as distressing as this may seem. Other options could exist, but if we were to, say, attack these Martian beings with our own forces, it couldn’t be guaranteed that they could arrive in time with enough force to counter them. Mars is far away from your perspective, but to us, it’s practically on top of you, according to the galactic map. The time to muster a defense force in your interest would be unfeasible and would most likely fail. Even if we were to assist you in a stand against them on your own soil, the combat would be devastating, and if we did win, the victory would be pyrrhic at best.”
Dalian attempted to regain her composure, yet her usual plastered smile would not reform. “Give it to me straight. How much time do we have?”
“According to our readings, the Martian First Armada, as they call themselves, will arrive to beachhead your atmosphere in a year; give or take a couple of months. Because of this small tolerance, we would wish to have your people off the surface in six months’ time.” Glasya was not speaking to Dalian in a direct manner, but rather, she addressed this deadline square in the face of the viewing public.
“Oh my gods! Nanna! Where are we going? What’s happening?” Quen’die’s tears were drenching her face as she couldn’t contain the horror of leaving Atlantis, much less the earth itself. Nanna could only train her eyes on the screen as she continued to clutch the young maiden’s arm.
“That isn’t much time,” Dalian commented in a foggy stupor. “What sort of plan do we have for this? Does it involve these pyramids? Eh, so many questions.” Her fluster was becoming quite apparent now as she too was dribbling silent tears from her eyes. It could be assumed, anyone who heard that broadcast was joining in her grief at that moment.
Glasya continued. “These pyramids, as you call them, are vital to this operation. Yes, you will all be leaving in them. We have delivered enough of them for each and every one of you. Just so you know, their official names are ‘Thelemic Arks.’” Glasya put her own hand on Dalian’s now shrinking form for consolation. “We have modified these vehicles to accommodate every member of your population for a safe and timely trip.”
Nanna looked about the length of her tiny apartment in a calm faze. So many years of collections and acquisitions were, without a doubt, going to be left behind. According to the High President, there were only mere months left with her spices, potions, books, herbs, and any other ancient device or tool which she had accrued throughout her ninety years. In many ways, these things defined her as a person and now, their transience made her feel so petty. She joined her granddaughter’s tears at that.
“Where are we going?” Dalian was choking back loud sobs now and was no longer a stalwart reporter but just another scared maiden. Now was a time for professionalism, but such a quality was not in her inventory at that time.
The stately lady gave Dalian a calm look of warm comfort. “The name of your new home is entirely up to your people, but it is located in the Taurus system. It’s not very far from our home world, astronomically speaking. It has an atmosphere very much like yours’ with a fully-developed manasphere, so you won’t need to live in primitive conditions. I know that this is seemingly terrible news for you, but you must realize that the alternative is death or enslavement. The bright side is an untapped and wonderful new world which is very similar, yet a bit alien to the earth you know and love.”
Glasya turned her attentions back to the public by way of the mirrors. “Tomorrow, I will personally meet with the High King and your government. We will coordinate an evacuation plan and send these instructions directly to you as well as how to manage your final six months on Earth. Please, we of the Aldebaran Hegemony implore your cooperation and assistance.”
Quay’liss Dalian was, for all intents and purposes, in her own puddle of woe. Glasya’s words “final six months” broke the newsie like a young mustang. Shielding her shattered will with a hand over her face, Dalian shoved her other palm over the mirrors. “Please…cut the flow. We’ll… be back. Thank you.”
Nanna looked down at her granddaughter and sighed. In many ways she wished that this was happening at the end of her life, but being only ninety, she had at least another sixty years of pioneer life on a new planet. Too old to explore, yet too young to pass it all away.
“I don’t know what to do, Nanna!” Quen’die let out something close to a squeal. “I want my mother! Why isn’t she calling me?” The maiden was losing her grip and Nanna Orsi figured that she would just let her work that out by herself.
“Quen’die, we will not be separated,” Nanna said with slow care as she looked at the AEN graphic that was resting like an immoveable rock on the screen. “We will find your mother again. Just give it time.”
Both were jolted from their sorrow as the door announced, “Madame Reyliss, you have a visitor!”
The tall elf filled the apartment’s decorative doorway. Quen’die sucked back all the air she could muster into her lungs with a yelp. What was Mavriel doing here and why was Nanna falling into his embrace?
“Mavriel!” Nanna sang as if her tears were forgotten. Why this lad triggered relief in her grandmother boggled Quen’die’s mind. Truth be told, Quen’die was still a bit freaked by him and this all made her nervous.
“Orsi, it’s so good to see you face-to-face finally,” he beamed a calm smile which Quen’die had admitted to herself could be addictive.
The young maiden thought she was going mad, but perhaps it was just a side effect of the cramps. Just earlier that day, this very lad had scared her to death but, all of the sudden, his smile washed those fears away in an instant. Was it due to Nanna’s apparent familiarity with him or was it because seeing a potential psycho was somewhat preferable to knowing that she would have to leave Earth in a few months? It was probably just the cramps.
“Okay,” Quen’die began with a wan groan. “How do you guys know each other? I feel like I’m in the middle of a joke that everyone gets except for me.”
Nanna stood next to the towering lad and presented him like he was her own son. “Quen’die, Mavriel is a very special and always-welcome guest in my home! I’d just like to say that he and I have been in cahoots for some time now.”
“So?” This announcement did nothing to stem the maiden’s curiosity and she was becoming more agitated. “I still don’t get it.”
“Quen’die,” Mavriel began. “As I was trying to explain to you earlier today, you are,” he paused as he found a way to collect the words, “assigned to me.”
The maiden winced without a shred of trust. “You make me sound like a project for Biology class.”
“No,” Mavriel corrected with a smile. “You’re more like my job.” He turned his braided head to her grandmother. “Orsi, maybe you should explain all this to your granddaughter, because my attempts earlier today failed miserably.”
“How do I say this,” Nanna presented with a pause. “Mavriel is what you call a ‘Deva.’”
“He looks like an elf to me,” Quen’die shot back, unimpressed. She worried for a moment that Nanna would take that as a strike against her, but her mistrust of this lad still simmered.
“Well, a deva is your spiritual guardian. We all have one, even Kaedish and your parents. Mavriel just so happens to be yours! I’ve been contacting him through rather special means ever since you were born, even though I really am not supposed to.”
“Basically, Quen’die,” Mavriel continued now that Nanna had made a safe introduction for him. “I am in direct league with the Creator, as are all of we devas. We live beyond your space and time, I suppose, in what you call an ‘afterlife.’ What your people call ‘Paradise.’ When it is your time to pass away, I am in charge of delivering you to the right place.”
“People die all the time,” the elfmaid was tapping her foot. “I’ve never seen a ‘deva.’ Let me guess, you’re invisible.”
“Yes. Normally, yes we are,” Mavriel answered with a blunt nod. “I am, however, recorporated into your dimension so that I can directly contact you. The Creator has assigned you to me as a special circumstance. That’s why we have perfectly-matching marks, and I assure you that this sigil on my wrist isn’t a tattoo or a grease burn.”
“What’s so special about me?” Quen’die demanded. “I just have red hair and I made the Academic Warden’s list. Big deal.”
“I will divulge all that to you in time. To be honest, you yourself will divulge that mystery, but right now, I just need for you to know me as who I really am so that we can begin to get things underway,” the deva explained. “As you can see, in this last week, your world has been undergoing terrific events. I am sad to inform both you ladies that not everything that you have heard from your visitors is true.”
Nanna nodded her head in agreement with this lad. Her face had turned solemn. She too knew something about all of this, but how, Quen’die couldn’t figure out. Perhaps it had something to do with all of her travels and studies throughout the years in far-flung places.
“What’s going on with all of this?” the maiden was becoming more worried as her eyes bulged with fear.
“These visitors in the arks are not from Aldebaran or any planet,” Mavriel began. “They, like me, do not reside in this dimension. They once were my brothers and sisters long ago, and many of them were devas as well, but there had been a terrible fight. A rebellion in our home, if you will. The beings you see on the screen, including Glasya were once known as the ‘Angelic’ race, just like me. After they were cast out of the loving light of the Creator into another, and terrible dimension of their own, we now refer to them as ‘Infernals.’”
“Ewww,” Quen’die shrunk back. “I don’t think I like the sound of that: ‘Infernals.’”
“No, and you won’t,” Mavriel intoned. “They are now the adversaries of the Angelics and of the Creator Himself. They are deceitful, treacherous, lecherous, and murderous. Any fear or hatred that you have felt in your life is home to them. Their reality is nothing but a relentless mockery of anything that you or my kind would consider a virtue.”
“Yeah, but virtues can be sometimes constricting,” Quen’die lectured.
“Yes, I can agree how one of free will would feel that way,” Mavriel nodded. “But when you have no option but to eschew virtue, as is the case with the Infernals, this can be painful and just as constricting as well. They hate your free will and they aim to take that away from you if they can. Essentially, their goal is permanent slavery and eternal torture, the likes of which no elf has ever been able to orchestrate in your history. Not even the Thuless’ins.”
“Angelics, Infernals, Devas,” Quen’die shook her head in frustration. “It’s all beyond me. I don’t believe it. What about the gods? What do they have to say about all of this? Why just Ui? No, I don’t think I believe any of this.
Mavriel looked over to Nanna Orsi and gave her a quick wink. “May I?”
Nanna let loose a knowing nod to the tall male and laughed. “Oh, don’t let me get in your way!”
With haste, Mavriel disrobed his simple tunic as shimmering silver-white wings erupted from his back. They were in the pattern most like that of a dove, but still different in shape from that species of bird. The whole apartment seemed to lighten along with the faint glow that emanated from the appendages. Quen’die’s disbelief was shattered only to be replaced by a mistrust of her immediate sens
es. Was she going completely insane as a result of all the pressure from the past week, she wondered? That had to be the case and this Mavriel was not what he had seemed, in any event. Under normal circumstances, such a perfect masculine display would arouse rather tingling feelings in her, but the unearthly additions to his back trumped those desires. The young maiden yelped in surprise as that was the only response she could form.
“No, you’re not going insane, Quen’die, I assure you,” Mavriel chuckled as if he could read her mind. Could he, she wondered? If he was her guardian, or watcher, or whatever, that was a complete possibility. Psychic or not, he could fly and that in itself was bizarre. “But I do hope you notice some glaring differences between me and the Infernals on the screen.”
“Uh…yeah,” Quen’die said in a slow state of shocked wonder. “They have dark wings.” She still could not take her eyes off the pair that were sprouting from his back. It didn’t matter to her at that moment if she thought that she sounded stupid or young. These odd body parts were still a bit beyond her comprehension.
“Yes, but another difference is in my intent,” Mavriel added. “No elf needs to leave Earth. There is absolutely nothing wrong on Mars, and there is no Taurian homeworld waiting for you. These beings you just saw on the screen want to take you and your nanna back to their own dimension to live in eternal damnation. This ‘rescue’ of theirs’ is their ruse.”
“Okay,” the maiden said in a still-flat tone as she tugged a lock of red hair with an absence of mind. “I believe you aren’t just an elf, but what do you want me to do about all this?”
“The Creator has chosen you and me to stop these Infernals from stealing your entire population away. Their plans must be halted, because once they have your people down there, they are forever hidden from the light of the Creator and there can be no rescue. You’ll be stuck there for eternity.”
Quen’die looked over at Nanna with plaintive eyes to which the old lady just smiled in honest confusion and shrugged her lean shoulders. ”How can I stop this? Why me? Like I said before, I’m nothing really special. What if you’re just one of them and you’re lying to me? Gods! There are so many questions!”
“And the Creator knows you have the answer.” Mavriel wandered over by the open picture window on the far wall and peeked out at the night. “Ui has His reasons for everything and they are always in His children’s best interests. You were chosen by Him for a reason that even I am not allowed to know. You’re special to me just because I am your deva, but you are special to Ui for reasons that are certain only to Him. He has chosen you, because He knows you will not fail this demanding trial. I suppose the best thing you can do is just be yourself and let me help you.”
“I don’t even know anything much about Ui,” Quen’die plopped back down into one of Nanna’s plush chairs. “I thought He just created stuff and went on His merry way.”
Quen’die’s doubts were shattered all of the sudden by red and blue flashing lights zipping past the fourth floor window. A civil warden on a flitcycle buzzed a warning through the streets over her P.A. Alongside her fluttered a dark winged form flying point. Mavriel shook his golden head as he was not surprised that the Infernals had made the move to dig themselves in with the government in such a short time. “Citizens! It is now 8 p.m. Curfew is in effect in two hours. Please prepare to return to your homes.”
“He’s much more involved than your people give Him credit, Quen’die. As for your other gods, they are not what you may have learned. They were immortals in their time, and not all necessarily like the rest of elfdom. I’ll tell you all about that later. Well, the short story, anyway.”
Mavriel smiled as he peered up into the darkness of the crisp night. Even from the shining innards of downtown, the stars in particular, were very bright that evening.
And Soon the World Will Love You
The new living arrangements were already wearing on Venn’lith’s nerves, as was pretty much everything else. Glynna’s son was the most obnoxious little orc that she had ever met, especially how he would follow her around everywhere she went like a chubby little puppy. It was quite obvious by the way he would gawk at her form that he was utterly infatuated and this she expected, but if she ever caught him sneaking into her room, the maiden vowed to sic Blanca on him. As if the gods were blessing her, the little elf would retreat to the basement, for the most part, to play video games on their big crystal manaball screen.
Her new soon-to-be stepmother was all right, as she was a bit aloof and paid most of her attentions to her father and her son. As far as Venn’lith was concerned, she couldn’t be happier, except for neither of them being there in the first place. Venn’lith figured it most ironic if the two somehow managed to grow on her. That is, until Father decided to do away with them.
Djaenn (just “Djaenn”) was teasing the rich, black hair of the Xochian maiden with frenetic glee that Midweek afternoon which would change Venn’lith’s life. Even though it might be quite the risk, Djaenn felt compelled to carve blunted bangs across Venn’lith’s forehead in the fashion of High President Glasya. Why the hairdresser had never thought to do that with her star subject before boggled her mind. When the screen first cast its mirrors to the alien arrival, her dread and terror was replaced in a flashing instant with loving envy upon seeing Glasya’s delicious hairdo.
“Djaenn demands that she give her sweet Lith bangs, so get ready for a new you,” the Thuless’in import, as per usual, referred to herself in the third person.
Venn’lith winced as she heard the styling shears flurry with bladed rasp. “Gods! Djaenn! You aren’t actually going to cut my bangs! But why?” This notion was sending icicles of fashionable fear up the length of her spine. Her hair was one of her many perceived personal strengths, and the concept of losing so many actual inches of it was akin to having open-heart surgery sans anesthetic. It was clear that the maiden was feeling violated.
“Wait!” Venn’lith cried before her personal hairdresser could begin the operation. “Maybe we can make a compromise.” The elfmaid considered Djaenn in all actuality, the only living person to hold any real power over her. She knew very well that the stylist held the key to her success, and that key was her beauty. Most of all, she trusted her judgment, as the frost elf was world-renown for working the coifs of royalty, actresses and supermodels. In some ways, the Xochian pondered, it was rather enjoyable to not always be the one in control.
“One does not compromise with beauty, especially hair,” Djaenn lectured. “The minute I saw Glasya’s mane, I immediately thought of you and practically kidnapped you just so I could have this luscious moment.” Djaenn flashed a maniacal glare at her victim in the giant illuminated mirror before them. “Be prepared, maiden, for Djaenn is about to go on a fashion rampage!”
Teenage eyes lit with shock at the life-altering experience she was about to have. “Stop the limmer!” she yelped. “Look, I love the High President’s hair too but, seriously, everyone is sporting it now. Did you see Quay’liss Dalian last night? That one wasted no time. Sure, it’s blue instead of brass, but still. I just called Agrat Ma’lott today, and even she is getting the bangs. I mean, Djaenn, what if I look like a poseur?”
“The Djaenn does not pose!” the stylist to the stars gasped. “If I must confess, then I will. Our little secret though. All these other fools are emulating Glasya directly by curling their manes down. Yes, you too will have bangs, but we are going up, and I mean way up! Why do you think I have that silk scarf on the rack over there?”
So many thoughts hurried through Venn’lith’s mind. Her most precious quality of vanity was about to be assaulted by the best. Time was wasting, however, and there was still much to be done for tonight. “Okay!” she squeaked. “Just do it!”
What seemed like hours passed. The distressed, yet fully excited maiden, requested that she wear a blindfold for the operation as she knew she would be apt to arrest Djaenn with every snip. Venn’lith trusted Djaenn with total assuranc
e, but the sounds of fashion forging about her long ears were making her unable to keep from cringing. After a long and grueling wait, it was the time for the silk mask to come off.
It was awesome, and there was no other word for it. As usual, Venn’lith thought she looked like the sun goddess, but this style was never cataloged in the annals of her imagination. Yes, Djaenn gave her the bluntest of bangs, but the rest of her hair stood almost two feet in the air in a flared cylinder of perfect form. The severity of it accentuated her delicate eyebrow sculpting while streaming curls dripped out of the top of the cone. Djaenn even sprayed real gold banding across the breadth of its blackness.
“There,” the Thuless’in announced. “The Djaenn has finished! As I have said, I do not pose.”
Venn’lith could not take her eyes off herself and, for the first time that week, she could feel a stir of gratitude in her heart. It was certain, Agrat Ma’lott would have nothing more than a carbon copy of Glasya’s hair, but that maiden had no real mind of her own. Neither did her other crony Isheth. The sun elf surmised that one too would have an identical look going tonight and such predictability of people annoyed her.
Glynna Reyliss entered the dressing room and took a look at Centeo’s daughter. There was no doubt that he had sired a fine maiden, but a part of her felt homesick for her Quen’die. For a brief instant, she saw her own daughter marveling at herself in that chair instead, but life did not allow for that. Glynna pushed that maudlin vision out of her mind as it would reduce her to tears if she dwelled on it for too long.
“You look amazing, Venn’lith,” Lady Reyliss commented.
“Thank you, Glynna,” the sun elf could not tear her gaze away from the mirror. Last week, Venn’lith and Glynna had agreed to just refer to each other by their first names. Considering that her father’s taste in a mate was rather transient, the Xochian figured such an informal arrangement was for the best.
Tonight was special for the Mitlans. They were to be present at the inner royal circle for the High King’s address in conjunction with the Aldebarans. Venn’lith had been subject to these kinds of happenings at least twice a month over the course of her whole life, but never before was such a presentation in the company of alien life forms. Everyone was tense and Glynna was not used to being in the exclusive luxury of the royals. Not just as a subject, but more or less as an equal. Over the years, she had studied the etiquette and manners when interacting with these high families and she wasn’t afraid of making a gaffe, but such travesties as another assassination attempt crossed her mind. Already in the newsscrolls, voices of dissent were posted in the forums as many of Corosa’s population were a bit xenophobic and did not trust their otherworldly guests.
The time had come for Lady Reyliss to take Djaenn’s chair and she wasn’t quite as touchy about her appearance as Venn’lith. The hairdresser was a celebrity in her own right and the lady knew that she would enjoy whatever the fashion warden would deem appropriate. Her nerves dwelled on making the right impression with Centeo. Males had never before seemed as imposing as this one and so much rested in her mind that everything needed to go well. Perhaps it was the raw power that coursed through him and not just his worldly accolades.
In an odd way, thoughts and even feelings of her old family, which she had just left two days ago, were stuffed far in the back of Glynna’s mind. Last night, she dreaded how she would react when, once and for all, the wellspring of emotions and memories of them broke through like a watershed. That day was inevitable, she thought, but today wasn’t it. Now that Ferd’inn was no longer amongst the ranks of the better gentry, she knew that she would run no risk of bumping into him at tonight’s address. He would not be able to afford the admission to the inner circle and it was as simple as that.
