 
Of Tea...and Things

Susan Skylark

Copyright 2018 Susan Skylark

Smashwords Edition

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Table of Contents:

In Which Miss Iris Misses Tea

Pertaining to Dowagers

Extreme Measures

A Sewing Lesson

Riding to Hounds

On Uncles

Impish Delight

A Long Awaited Meeting

Of Plots and Plots

His Lordship's Night Out

A Questionable Personage

An Introduction to Villainy

A Little More Scandal in the Park with No Tea to Follow

Into the Woods

Scandals Various

The Great Enemy of Bureaucracy

Other Books By This Author

'The Last Shadow,' Excerpt

The Pallid Knight ('The Greylands: Volume V,' Excerpt)

'Once a Thief' Excerpt

'On Sleeping Beauties: A Foible', Excerpt

Wisdom's Children (a Story from 'Over the Hills and Far Away')

In Which Miss Iris Misses Tea

There she stood in her second best dress on the front steps of her husband's marvelous and imposing townhouse, clutching the most disreputable portmanteau in the staff's possession, or at least the most scandalous specimen that could be procured on short notice. She would not even have been allowed to keep the dress, had it not been considered quite improper to allow her back inside to change into something less grand. She had never imagined when she had stepped out that morning to make a call upon a certain influential social matron that she would be facing such a crisis upon her return, had she known that to be the case, she at least would have worn her Best Dress, a scandal in its own right certainly, but one easily overlooked in the even deeper scandal that had washed over her with all the rage and suddenness of a tsunami. Of course she had never worn the Best Dress, no one did, not unless the Queen herself happened to stop by unannounced for tea! Her current surprise was no less had that been the shock awaiting her but it was certainly far less pleasant, or so she assumed, never having had tea with Her Majesty, she could not be quite certain, but she thought it was at least probable.

She tried to plead again with the dour faced butler but he only shook his head grimly and pointed harshly down the road, as if she were naught but a beggar woman squatting upon the doorstep rather than his mistress of a decade. Former mistress it seemed. Said the appalled housekeeper, from behind the grim brute of a butler who seemed suddenly all brawny shoulders, a feature she had never before paid much heed, "move along miss, it would not do to make a scene."

With a final sigh, her shoulders slumping and her elegant train trailing dejectedly after her, Iris descended the proud and fashionable steps, wondering what the society papers would say on the morrow and how many hidden eyes were watching from behind seemingly vacant windows. There was no sense arguing, it was just the way things were. She had forgotten, well she knew this day might come, but she had hoped something would happen to spare her such an ignomious fate, that her husband's fondness for her would somehow protect her, that he might forget, but it seemed that he had not and no amount of love, however inordinate, could make up for the indignity she had caused him, the insult was unforgivable and imperiling his family line as she had was perhaps the greatest indignity of all, if not a crime in and of itself.

'Miss,' the word haunted her, she who had only that morning stepped out as Mrs. Iris Andromeda Baren Candor Donaldo Eveleff Garand Hatt Indigo...Zebula. Twenty-six surnames, one for each letter of the alphabet, outlining her husband's extensive, impressive, and most ancient lineage, but now she was simply 'miss.' She opened the bag hopefully, for perhaps her future lay therein, but there was nothing within, save a few sentimental knickknacks she had brought with her upon her most fortuitous marriage. Once fabulously wealthy, her material worth was now as diminished as her name. She had a few coins about her person, a surplus of lace handkerchiefs, and a fan, but nothing else save the clothes on her back and the hat on her head. Perhaps she could still return home, she doubted it, but it was the only thing she could think of to spare herself from an even less desirable fate.

She raised a hand to hail a cab, a thing no proper lady would do, for that is what one had servants for, so it took no little time to actually attract that attention of a driver and get him to pull his overworked nag over to the side of the pavement whereon her former ladyship stood. They assumed she was having a fit or communicating with some other personage or fainting or something appropriately ladylike, not trying to get the attention of such a loathsome creature as a cabby. But at last someone did dare to thwart all common reason and social propriety and pulled over to see what the perplexing dame was up to, but not before a rather scandalous looking person, who made Iris's skin crawl even at a distance, sidled up to her most knowingly and said in very familiar tones, "there's but one thing for you to do miss, you're still a pretty-ish thing, and don't you worry, we'll be waiting when you finally resign yourself to reality." He winked at her in a most reprehensible fashion and then slouched off rather too smugly for anyone's comfort but his own.

Iris shuddered in revulsion as she climbed into the cab, gave her address, and tried not to think as they rolled off in the direction of her childhood home. She couldn't, absolutely not! But if her parents likewise disowned her, it would be her only option. But no, they wouldn't, they couldn't! But they did. The cab drew up in a very unfashionable part of town and she paid him his fare, all she had left and with nothing extra for his trouble. She couldn't tell if he was angry, scandalized, or seemed to understand her plight, so blank were his face and eyes, the result of a lifetime of carrying to and fro those whose business was none of his. The vehicle rattled off and she prepared to face her parents, hoping against hope that they would not see things as all of society did, that this scandal was none of her own doing, but they undoubtedly would.

Her father was a craftsman, he worked with his hands, and while he made a good living for his large family, such a family was not likely to be the source of a bride for one of society's elite; it just wasn't done. So it was quite the fairy tale to those who knew the family, and quite the scandal to everyone else, when his Lordship had chosen Iris to be his bride. It was the habit of some of the great lords' sons and certain wealthy young bucks to go 'slumming' amid the lower classes as both a form of amusement and a means of temporally escaping the stuffy and inflexible world into which they had been born. They'd don 'rough' clothes and attend a public ball in the less affluent parts of town and dance the night away with many a miller's daughter and tradesman's niece. It was in just such an environment that Iris met her husband, well former husband, and he was so taken with her that he insisted on marrying her.

Many insisted that he would one day rue his choice, mostly those with eligible daughters of their own, and today seemed to be proving them right. She was neither rich nor powerful nor did she know anyone who was, but her family was respectable, if middle class, but most importantly, she came of a large and healthy family. Her mother had been prolific in the production of children and he had no doubt that it was a trait his admired lady would likewise possess. So they were married, much to the delight of everyone who had any care or love for the happiness of those involved, but all others were appalled, most especially his peers and relations. Gradually they got used to the idea and the scandalized talk and impolite remarks vanished into the background as other, more interesting scandals arose to replace them, but they would no doubt spring back to life after today's little affair.

It was exactly ten years and nine months to the day since she wed what she thought was the love of her life, but here she stood outside the door of her childhood home, hoping that her parents would welcome her home once more. But the unemotional maid that answered the door did not look like a bearer of gladsome tidings, said she in a scandalized tone, "please come round to the back, miss, the front door is only for proper visitors."

Ugh! At least they answered the door, perhaps they just wanted to avoid more public scandal, best to keep this affair away from prying eyes in any case. She hustled to the door that opened off a side alley into the kitchens, hoping to find peace at last, but she was merely handed a few table scraps for her trouble and told that the master of the house, though not unkindly, was not prone to humor beggars who repeatedly accosted his servants. Beggar?! But in truth that's what she was, she had dared marry into one of the Great Families, and in failing to uphold her part of the bargain, after the legally prescribed period, she was cast back into the street, and having thus embarrassed herself and all the Greats so thoroughly, her family dared not offer her succor, lest they seem complicit in the eyes of all society in this most unfortunate affair. There were also yet children at home and the presence of such a specter lurking about the house would undoubtedly affect their chances of marrying well, or at all. To them and all society, it was as if she had never been. She wasn't even considered as one dead, one who at least had lived and would be missed, rather she no longer existed and never had.

What was left to her? She considered the filthy and disreputable man who had accosted her, almost as dreadful as her handbag, but she shuddered in disgust, she'd rather starve! Staring down bleakly at her meager handful of scraps, the only legacy her parents would bequeath her, she knew she very well might. But it would be far better to die an honest, though wretched death, than to play the harlot for her bread. But was there no other choice? She sighed heavily as she slunk out of the alley, little heeding where she was going but knowing she could no longer remain where she was, all of her attention was focused inward on the disaster that was now her life.

It wasn't her fault, or so she hoped, she really didn't mean to be barren, she came of fruitful stock on both sides, but in those ten years and nine months, she had never given her husband even the hope of a child. But as far as society saw it, she had deceived him, wasted precious time in which he might have been fathering children, endangered the stability of the family line, for what would happen if he died without leaving children? She did have to smile, in a grim and ironic sort of way, that she had had ten years and nine months, just in case she happened to conceive on the last day of the prescribed ten years, you never could tell, but as she had not produced an heir in the final nine months either, she was unceremoniously cast from her home and society, driven from safety and security like a common thief. And now her only hope was to become a harlot, this too elicited that grimly amused smile, for what safer woman for such a job? There being so slight a chance of producing bastard children and the lady herself being cast out of all decent society, in desperate need of both sustenance and protection.

Better to face the Wilds than suffer such a fate! She stood on the edge of town, her unwitting wanderings having brought her thus, near one of the great gates that opened in the wall surrounding the city and allowed traffic in and out during daylight hours, but which were firmly shut every evening to keep Things out. What Things, she had never rightly heard, it wasn't proper for her young female mind to be apprised of such Things, but rest assured, between the Wall and the Watch, she'd not need to worry about any of them. She just needed to focus on finding a decent husband. Well, that and having a superfluity of children. She had succeeded quite well in the first case but failed abysmally in the second. With a heavy sigh, she marched straight out the gate and into the wide world without and none dared stop her, for though a lady of breeding NEVER left the Walls without a proper escort, it was even more taboo to interfere with such, no matter how improper seemed her intentions.

She had travelled abroad several times with her husband upon various errands and visits, but she had never left town alone and afoot before, certainly not as a girl, for even people of her father's lowly social status had Standards. But she was quite thoroughly disgusted with Standards and for a time relished the odd looks shot her way by the various farmers, tradesmen, and servants that passed her by upon their own errands. She found it quite exhilarating at first, to be thwarting social conventions so thoroughly; cast her out would they?! Well, she might just as well spurn them! She'd leave of her own accord and that was that. The leaving part was easy, it was what was to be done afterwards that terrified her enough that the ratty man's offer didn't seem so bad upon recollection, but she chastised herself as a milk-hearted sniveler and kept marching further away from the only life she had ever known, but just what was she speeding towards?

Things. Oh why oh why would they not tell her about Things?! Not knowing was probably worse than the most horrid truth, then she must resort to making things up and a young girl's imagination could be quite gruesome, likely more so than the actual reality. Well, this was her big chance to find out. And whatever her fate, it couldn't be worse than harlotry, not that she knew much about that either, just enough to encourage her to produce a baby or ten lest it be all her future. She started to cast back within her mind, seeking stories, rumors, gossip, lies, anything she could remember of life outside the city, beyond the town, things her brothers discovered in their studies, overheard snippets of the servants' gossip, gran's fireside tales, the talk amongst her father's friends over their pipes when she was thought long abed.

Of course she had been taught, as all decent and proper young ladies were, about the Old World, and the Ancient Days, of all the horrible and uncouth things that had happened before civilization and decency and Standards, when the world was wild and young and wide, when people were the myth and all sorts of uncouth folk roamed the earth. But all that happened in another age, another time, probably in another place, for nothing very interesting ever happened in or near the city, at least that she had ever heard of, at least not interesting to her, she didn't consider the latest social scandal intriguing in the least, which may be why she never quite fit in to Society, children or not.

As the day began to fade into evening, she allowed herself a brief respite from her introspection to take the lay of the land and consider what might be her best option for the imminent night. The fields and pasturelands and neat little coppice woods that had straddled the road for the entirety of the journey suddenly gave way before her to a wood seemingly as dark and expansive as the night sky that seemed intent upon devouring all that remained of the dying day. The road itself skirted this impressive forest by a wide margin, continuing on its prim and proper way, seemingly contemptuous of the wild and unkempt country that bordered one side. Well, thought she, Society and their Standards have utterly cast me out, why should I tread their roads and prescribed paths any longer? So with a shrug of defiance, she stepped off the smug little road and clove her way into the murky and trackless wood.

The first thing she noticed was that her fashionable garb, though quite suited to the trackless wastes of societal gatherings, was quite a hindrance in actual trackless wastes. The second was that it was quite dark, as if one had foolishly locked oneself inside a wardrobe. Unable any longer to ascertain what was before her, and tripping most inelegantly over some branch or rock, and even uncertain where the edge of the forest now lay, she could do little but sit down and cry, for at last her heart had caught up with her mind, originally numbed by the shock of it all, she had been able to act almost dispassionately, but out here, at last, her sorrow and fears overtook her. Of course proper ladies were not allowed to cry, but as she was no longer of that ilk, she unashamedly wept her little heart out until at last she passed blissfully into unknowing sleep.

"She did what?!" said the astonished, though otherwise thoroughly tidy, man in wonder.

"She vanished into that dratted Wood, sir," said the equally flabbergasted henchman, adding quickly, "I offered her the usual and assumed she'd come begging the moment she discovered just how limited her options were. I never took her for the outdoorsy type."

"If she was just some common trollop," began the distinguished looking man, dressed to the height of current fashion, as he pensively paced the room, "it would be of no matter if she did choose to so lose herself and be set upon by Things. No one would care or notice, but this chit was special! I had a double-sided list as long as my arm of gentlemen callers wanting to make her acquaintance. It is not often such a scandal rocks Society and when it does, our men of Fashion should be able to take advantage of it. She's costing me money, lots of money, and worse, notoriety! Her reputation alone is worth more than five of my most talented ladies combined." He glared at the hapless minion as if this whole fiasco was his fault, "have we no options?"

"You know no one who goes into that Wood ever returns," stuttered the terrified henchman, "at least in a recognizable form."

"True," sighed the dandy, "too true, you should have just kidnapped her outright."

"Knowing what we do now, I would have, but I like to give them the chance to despair first," smiled the lackey wickedly, "it makes their final surrender and despair all the sweeter and seems to even make them grateful to us for saving them from utter ruin."

"Why can't she just be reasonable like every other girl in the realm?" mused the cad in a gentleman's garb.

"There were whispers you know, sir," said the flunky in dubious and hushed tones.

"Yes," slurred that non-gentleman, "and if true, perhaps she would have been a most troublesome acquisition indeed. But was there truly any proof that she did, indeed," he paused cautiously, as if to ensure they were truly alone before continuing in a quieter voice, as he uttered the astonishing word, "read?"

"I managed to speak to several of her former staff, both in her husband's and her father's house, and they agreed that she did in fact do just that," said the sub-villain, not daring even to say the dastardly deed aloud.

"It is not," mused the senior villain, "that a lady cannot be allowed to read, but it is her choice of literature that is of the utmost import. You are certain it was not just flimsy novels and the society papers?"

"Nay milord," said the henchman grimly, "it was books, solid and heavy books, any she could lay hand to, not that it was an easy thing in her social circumstances, but they say she found rather creative ways to go about it, vulgar chit!"

"Does she know something we do not about that forest or Things?" asked he.

"I doubt it sir," said the henchman boldly, "for even the most well read of men knows little of that cursed Wood, and whatever means she used to contrive access to a book, it is very unlikely she would come across anything helpful in that regard when men with ready access to such information know nothing."

"Quite true," said the non-gentleman in growing good humor, "perhaps she would have been quite an encumbrance to own, a pity, but perhaps it is for the best after all."

While Iris could see nothing going on around her, not only because she was sleeping as one dead, but also because that peculiar Wood was draped in an unnatural night, that did not mean things weren't going on. While all the human folk in those parts thought this particular Wood haunted, cursed, forsaken, et cetera, it was really none of those things, for it was always near to bursting with activity of various sorts and tenanted by some of the most upstanding individuals imaginable, though perhaps they did not recognize the Standards as holy writ, which was probably the main argument against calling such folk civilized, they were quite civilized in their own particular way, one which Society might very well have called uncouth, could they ever glimpse such a spectacle of course. But as they couldn't, all were kindly spared that sort of unpleasantness.

"A lady?!" said a very astonished voice, lurking in the shrubbery near where said lady reposed in quite un-Standard fashion.

"Quite," chuckled a second voice in reply.

"Of all the strange and wonderful things one might glimpse in this peculiar Wood," mused the first, "this is one spectacle I never thought to see."

"Anything is possible here," said the second voice in ill-suppressed amusement.

"Anything out of the ordinary," agreed the first, "but such a spectacle is quite ordinary in the outer world."

"But it would be a peculiar scene here and thus one would think it quite possible, along with all the other impossible scenes one might certainly witness herein," continued the second, no longer hiding his mirth.

"I suppose your reasoning must be sound," said the first with a shake of his head, "if not here, then certainly somewhere." He glanced back at the sleeping lady, "but it seems so mundane."

"Again you are stating the obvious, my friend," smiled the second, "please stop!"

"But then what shall we speak of?" quoth the first with a wry grin.

"Now who is the one being mundane?" laughed the second outright.

"True," said the first ruefully, "I sound like some oblivious gentleman at a societal function where we can speak nothing but the blatantly obvious."

"The lady's presence is corrupting you already," said the second in feigned horror, "what will happen to the balance of our acquaintance?"

"Dreadful thought indeed!" agreed the first, but lapsing into sudden silence as the lady in question stirred.

"Who is there?" queried she, trying to sound valiant and unafraid but managing only to sound like a lonely kitten mewing forlornly in a dark alley. Iris glanced about her futilely, all about her hidden in mist and shadow. At least the utter black of night had given way to a twilit world of murky shadow but she was still nearly as blind, not even able to see her feet amidst the brume, but she was quite certain she had been wakened by voices.

The first looked at the second in question, he only shrugged and stepped forward out of the swirling mists, that the lady might know what it was that lurked unseen just beyond sight. She gasped to see that she was not alone in this surreal world, but as she had been anticipating Things, two gentlemen dressed in quality but conservative evening dress were not exactly what she had been expecting, seeing her quickly hidden look of disappointment, the first said to the second, "see, she was thinking to discover something less mundane in this peculiar Wood as well." Upon which, all exchanged Standard greetings, before the first spoke once more, "how come you here madam and may we be of any assistance?"

She fought valiantly but the tears still came, said she through her sobs and hiccups, "I am quite at a loss, gentlemen, for I've been Forsaken by kith and kin, cast out for the most heinous of offenses. I wonder that you would even deign speak with me."

The first man could not suppress a grin, "we don't often get to read the society papers, milady. You will be happy to know that your society's standard is not ours."

She blinked at him as if he had said he routinely employed an ostrich in lieu of a carriage horse, said she in some befuddlement, "what then is your Standard? I know I am Outcast, but if you are equally so, have you not turned bandit or outlaw or something equally uncivilized?"

"Your society certainly would not approve of our various goings on, madam," assured the second, his own grin as wide as his fellow's, "but we are far from lawless men. Indeed, we cling to a standard even higher and older than that to which you refer."

She smiled sadly at these poor benighted men, lost so long in the dark and mist that they must truly have lost all sense of decency and propriety, not to mention physical direction, but then again, it was the Standards that had proclaimed she must be cast from all decent company and protections for an act which was not willfully done and was in nowise her fault and said that her former kith and kin must have nothing whatsoever to do with her ever again whilst these respectable seeming gentlemen were at least treating her as a real and valuable person.

Said she in polite ignorance, "I suppose there must be other Standards in the world, those that govern conduct say in former times or distant places, perhaps it is of this you speak?"

"Something like that indeed, my lady," said the first with a grandiose bow, "but come, what crime or perception thereof has driven you so far from home?"

They both blinked in wonder at her brief tale, said the second, "and how is it you chose to flee to this peculiar Wood, whose reputation may be even worse among fashionable folk than even the flesh dealers that offered you succor?"

"I've never heard aught of this Wood, either good or ill," said she simply, "women are not told such things. I've tried to read up on things, not Things mind you, but anything I could lay hands on, but even that study was limited, for it is thought quite uncouth for a woman, particularly one of my standing, to know things, especially about Things." She brightened significantly at this, "now that I am a woman of ill-repute, will you tell me about the Things?"

"What things?" queried the first in confusion.

"You know!" said she a bit abashedly, "the reason the city has walls, the Things they are meant to keep out!"

The men exchanged a rather amused grin, at which she frowned, thinking their mirth sprang from her ignorance, but the second reassured her, "I am not sure why they built the walls if they think to repel Things from within this Wood, that is utterly ridiculous, but perhaps your folk do not understand that or it makes them feel better regardless, but either way, if the walls were meant to keep your folk safe from Things within the Wood, they are sorely mistaken."

"I see," said she rather lamely, but perked up as she considered, "still, if they are afraid of Things, there must be a reason and I would dearly love to learn it."

"I am afraid what your folk fear and the actual reality of the situation are two very different things, milady," said the first with a regretful shake of his head, continuing swiftly as she tried to interject eagerly, "and some of those truths cannot be imparted to you, for either the world is not ready or is forbidden from knowing or even we know not the truth of the matter."

She shut her eagerly gaping mouth and merely broached a disappointed, "oh," feeling again a little girl whose father had just told her serious books were not within the proper domain of womenfolk.

"That and there is not time enough between now and the end of days to thoroughly discuss such a topic," added the second hurriedly.

"So you are saying," mused she, "that though much must yet remain hidden from my ravenously curious mind, there are still enough facts of interest to keep me thoroughly occupied for the rest of my born days?"

"Certainly miss," grinned the first, "the better question would be, what do you need to know, what would be the most important topic to begin your education?"

She stood and brushed the residual brush from her hopelessly rumpled dress, touched her now feral hair with an appalled hand, only to discover her stylish hat was also missing, and said in resignation, "I suppose one's wardrobe and appearance are not of the utmost import within this wild wood of yours? If the residents hereof are not at all concerned with mortal walls, I would assume physical appearance would also be of little import?" Both men offered her a smart half bow of affirmation, their eyes sparkling in delight at her quick assessment of the situation and seemingly innate understanding thereof. She glanced around morosely at the unpromising gloom and asked, "and I suppose what I can see of this dismal place is hardly to be used as a measure to judge the Wood as a whole or even in part?"

"Indeed!" agreed the second happily, "you have a fine grasp upon the situation, for having just arrived and being..." He trailed off awkwardly, not knowing how to state the obvious in a delicate and politic manner.

She grinned at him, quite like an excited and unabashed child, "being a former society matron?"

"Quite," seconded the first.

"I suppose the most important matter to determine is what is to come of me?" she gazed at her interlocutors earnestly.

"I suppose we cannot just throw her back?" grinned the second in a most impish fashion.

At this, the lady gaped unwittingly like the metaphorical fish to which she had just been compared, little realizing that she had likewise committed a faux pas of vast egregiousness along with her companion: that of comparing a lady to an aquatic animal, it just was not done, at least not in proper circles, but as she glanced about once more, she was reminded just how far removed she now was from those very circles and decided to let the perceived insult pass unremarked, whereat the first came magnanimously to her rescue with, "you shouldn't compare a lady to a fish, my friend, not on any account."

"I suppose not," agreed the second, "but our quandary still remains, bad metaphors aside."

"It does at that," frowned the first pensively, eyeing the lady, he asked, "and what shall come of you madam?"

"I haven't a clue," said she morosely, "I was hoping you could tell me!"

"The outer world has utterly forsaken you," mused the second aloud, "yet you have no official place or standing within the Wood."

"Must I?" queried she, all curiosity.

The first nodded grimly, "aye madam, for without it you would find yourself in grave peril, for there are many factions and an ever shifting balance of power and most of the denizens have little love for mortals. At best they would ignore you, but there are many who would do far worse for the temerity you have shown in violating their Wood."

Her eyes narrowed as she studied them anew, "yet you are not afraid to go gallivanting about as it pleases you?" They both smiled at this, an irksome gesture, reminiscent of a smug and mysterious cat, with just as much hope of prying a satisfactory answer out of them as to the significance thereof. Sighed she in obvious disdain, "fine, keep your secrets! I can only then assume that I cannot safely depend upon physical appearance as a concrete sign of anything in this odd place?"

"You are quite correct, milady," agreed the first, "hope may be found within a monstrous guise and danger in the most innocuous."

"So you are not two gentlemen of means and leisure who have happened upon me in my hour of need?" asked she.

"We have happened upon you in your hour of need, quite providentially if I may add," said the second.

"And we are certainly Gentlemen, at least as the term should be defined, though not as the word is realized in your society," added the First.

"And we are certainly not men of leisure," chuckled the Second.

Added the First, "but we certainly have the means to accomplish the necessary."

"So what is to come of me?" asked she plaintively.

"What are your wishes and desires madam?" retorted the First.

"I want to belong somewhere," said she pensively, "to not be judged by things beyond my control. To be valued for what I am, rather than for what I am not or what I own or to whom I was born or for what I might do."

"The search of every quivering soul," nodded the Second.

"Can I find it?" asked she, hoping against hope, "here or anywhere?"

"It is quite attainable," smiled the First, "if you truly desire it."

"I do!" said she, "who doesn't?"

"Everyone desires it of course," said the First, "but most prefer to attempt to attain it in their own way, by their own power or cunning or strength, but it can only be attained one way."

"The Standards?" asked she nervously.

"Is your society's attempt at attaining it, yes," nodded the Second sagely, "but it is not the true Way."

"Good!" said she with a sigh of relief, "for I've tried it and found it extremely vexatious and thoroughly wanting." Her eyes narrowed suddenly, "how can you be so certain there is only one Way? That sounds rather myopic and closed minded if there are as many different cultures, tribes, traditions, and peoples in the world and even beyond it as you imply?"

"What does your society think of any that don't hold their Standard dear?" countered the First.

"We think them uncivilized heathens," said she at once, narrowing her eyes in thought and adding, "which makes me wonder if the truly civilized way to look at the matter is to see that perhaps there are many roads to the same destination?"

"And what would happen if you found a road and started traveling thereupon, assuming it must bear you wherever you had a mind to go regardless of whither it truly went?" asked the Second.

"That is ridiculous," giggled she, "a road can only go betwixt the places it is built; my wishes mean nothing."

"Should not the same be true of attempting to attain a certain end?" queried the first, "If you wish to obtain milk, one does not approach an obliging rock or climb a tree. Your society is right in its assumption that their Standard must be seen as the only way to achieve their desired end or chaos and confusion would result, even if they are wrong about the means thereof. They have the right idea but the wrong road."

"Humph," grunted she in disgust, realizing how much of a waste her life had been up until this very moment, but brightening added, "so how is one to attain the proper end?"

"Take the right road," said the First cryptically.

"Show me this way, then," urged she.

"It will cost you everything, milady," said the Second quietly.

"I have nothing left," countered she.

"Materially speaking, perhaps," agreed the First, but adding, "but what of your hopes, dreams, fears, doubts, time, preferences, prejudices, opinions, and physical being, all that makes up your heart, mind, body, and soul?"

"I must become nothing?" said she in growing alarm.

The Second shook his head minutely and said quietly, so much so that she had to strain to hear him, "we are nothing, or rather, each of us is accounted as nothing when compared to that which we seek. It is none of our doing, we come naked and empty handed, filthy and alone, disgusting beggars with nothing to recommend us."

She was trembling, whether in fear or anticipation, perhaps both, she scarcely knew, but licking her lips, she said just as quietly, "I am utterly wretched, beneath these fancy rags lurks nothing of worth or substance, yet you say it need not be so?"

"Aye, milady," smiled the First in growing anticipation, "in forsaking what we think we want, only then can we discover that which we truly need."

"Then show me," said she eagerly. The two gentlemen exchanged one of those maddeningly mystifying looks, bowed graciously to the lady, and then the world spun into blackness, dark as starless night.

Pertaining to Dowagers

"Well that was certainly odd," remarked Lady Iris to nobody in particular, as she suddenly jerked awake to find herself in the familiar jolting of an otherwise empty carriage, she must have nodded off! At least there was no one in the carriage to notice her unseemly mistake, and a quick feel of hat and hair assured her that everything was in its proper place and condition. What a peculiar dream! She relaxed back into the cushioned seat to muse upon the oddities of her slumbering mind, perhaps a little disappointed at the realization that it had only been a dream, when suddenly she sat straight up and intently studied the interior of the vehicle, realizing that it was not her husband's familiar equipage, though similar, it was an entirely different carriage.

Suddenly her pulse raced and she smiled eagerly, for it hadn't been a dream after all, it was wonderfully, strangely, exhilaratingly real! But what was going on? Why was she suddenly back in her previous position, well not the exact same position obviously, but one close enough to it that she felt quite at home? There came no sudden answers or revelations, only the familiar rattle and clatter of the vehicle and horses came in reply, but for some reason this did not perplex her in the least, rather she seemed to know she'd know what she must, when she must, and until then, she need worry about nothing. With a mystified smile at her easy acceptance of this enigma, she allowed herself to relax again into the cushions and idly let her mind wander whither it would, over all that had been and what might yet be.

At last the coach and four drew to a stop and the lady's door swung wide, but the retainers were as bland faced and silent as they ought to be, none betrayed to his mistress that he was anything other than a perfectly ordinary servant about nothing but his unexceptionable duty. With no clues to be had from that quarter, she swept out of the carriage and into the main foyer of the palace, a venue she graced every year for the Queen's Ball, which seemed to be exactly what was happening on this very night. She cast her mind back, what seemed eons after recent experience, to life before everything fell apart, and assuming it was still the same year, who could tell after such happenings?, then it was the eve of the very day she had been cast adrift, for she had returned home after her morning visit, intent on changing for the Ball to be held that very evening.

But perhaps it was years later, or even earlier, but glancing quickly at her gloves and gown, she could only assume from the design that she was either remarkably out of fashion or it was very likely the same day, and since nothing remarkable had yet occurred upon this most uncanny of forays, she had to assume the latter. But then there was a way to at least discover her name and position, and that without asking anyone! She entered the ballroom, unescorted, which might be very bad form indeed, unless...yes, there it was, they announced a Lady Pumpernickel, a young dowager lately of a certain distant city, perfect! Now she could mix with the elite company of her former acquaintance without the encumbrance of a husband or chaperone, though the name was rather vexing, certainly quite proper and traditional sounding, but also a tad ridiculous.

She smiled in spite of herself, did not the nobility pride themselves on such things, the more ridiculous the better? With a long suffering sigh, she allowed herself to be swept away by the sporadically milling crowds like a dying fish caught in a swirling current, and like that moribund fish, if she could once again be forgiven the ghastly piscine metaphor, she drew all manner of attention to herself, all as ravenously interested as the aquatic predators and scavengers usually drawn to such a hapless creature. She smiled inwardly while outwardly maintaining an all too bland expression, for here supposedly was money, youth, and power, all a strong draw to the eligible beaus and their representatives scattered about the grand hall.

She wondered at their sudden interest in a complete stranger, musing upon the stark contrast with how they would react had they known her true, or rather former, position in their society. Or likely even more dramatic, their reaction to her new status as one of those Things the walls were meant to keep out. She knew nothing of such things, and was strangely content to learn as she was able, miracle indeed! But she understood, somehow, that, as the men from the forest had hinted, if such Things had a wish or need to enter the city or infiltrate Society, the Walls were no hindrance at all, and apparently neither was time or physical appearance; what an intriguing world she had entered, suddenly she was rather glad she had not read much or widely, as it would only mean more disinformation she would have to shed, negate, or overcome in order to even begin to comprehend the Truth.

So it was she danced and talked and laughed the whole night through with an excited bevy of potential suitors or their representatives, and though she knew nothing of her current position or mission, she need not speak of actual Facts, but rather the bland and tedious banalities, thought the right and proper province of the fair sex, were all that was required of her and these she could wield with all the finesse of a master swordsman with his blade. She knew Nothing, but Nothing was all she was expected to know, thus Fashion and Weather and recent societal happenings were all she had need to discuss and she did so with abandon, never having had so much fun discussing Nothing in her short and tedious life, for at last she knew how much she did not know and strangely she did not quail at the lack, for she knew she would know what she must when she must, and until then, she could be quite content in her ignorance, quite out of her former character but oddly natural in her new position.

As the night gave way grudgingly to dawn, she found herself out in the Royal Gardens quite alone, save for a few weary stars that had not yet found their daily repose, but suddenly a voice shattered the otherwise idyllic scene, "quite a lovely Ball, think you not?"

"Certainly," said Lady Pumpernickel, turning to face a quietly amused female voice just behind her. "I do not believe I have had the pleasure?" said she, a bit put out that the silly, giggling creature had not had the decency to introduce herself, or better yet, find someone proper to do it for her.

"Oh, yes," blushed the insipid girl, fanning herself a little too desperately in the chill morning air, "Miss Anastasia Bellaire. You must forgive me, I have just found myself affianced to one of Society's greatest men; it has quite put all other thoughts out of my head, including proper etiquette." She then went on to extol her betrothed's expansive fortune, great name, and rugged good looks, simpered over the sudden dismissal of his unfortunate previous lady, and her great good luck in the matter, altogether wholly pleased with herself and her fate.

"How sudden he bounced back from such a setback!" said Lady Pumpernickel, trying to keep all hint of astonishment out of her reply.

"It isn't as if he hasn't had many years to plot and plan for just such an eventuality," retorted the prim young thing, "if the former lady couldn't get the job done in the first few years, it wasn't likely she would succeed in the ensuing years either. A pity he's wasted all that time, but he could do naught else with the Standards breathing down his neck, we are to be married next week in fact, no sense wasting any more time, you understand."

"Quite," agreed the disgusted Lady Pumpernickel, wondering how much her former husband truly had adored her, if he was already shopping around for a new bride when it was obvious his current lady was lacking. A sudden thought occurred to the appalled lady, distracting her from her former distress, for though disgusted at their behavior, it in nowise hurt her personally any more, though she felt it certainly ought, another strange side effect of her mysterious office, but the girl was no foreign dowager, able to move about with impunity, she must have a chaperone of some sort, be it mother or elderly lady companion or lady's maid, she could not be so lost to propriety to forget that as she had a proper introduction. But glancing about, My Lady Pumpernickel failed to discover such a personage, unless of course she had a fondness for skulking behind topiaries or hiding in a hedgerow.

My Lord's new Lady smiled impetuously at the dowager's sudden concern, "my maid is passed out in a chair in the ballroom, she can't handle the late hour or the heat, poor thing. As it was just you and I left of all the guests, I thought there nothing improper in a little independent fraternizing. What say you milady?"

"It is not what I think but what the Standards say," rebuked Dowager Pumpernickel to her extreme disgust and surprise, sounding all too much like a right and proper dowager and society matron, albeit one twenty years her senior addressing a lady her own current age; what a difference a night made!

And her companion seemed to agree, laughing uproariously, "my Lady indeed! We are of an age, me thinks, but you sound like a gouty old widow thrice your age addressing a mere scamp of a girl upon the night of her first Ball!"

"Perhaps," said My Lady, "but it is not my opinion that matters, but rather that of your affianced Lord."

"We aren't married yet," snorted the impertinent girl.

"And unlikely to be if such behavior persists," cautioned The Pumpernickel.

"How dreadful!" protested the girl, "and here I thought you might be game for a little adventure, being in possession of both liberty and means as you are, I rather envy you! But here I find you just another matronly prig!"

"Mmph," grunted the Pumpernickeled Lady, "it is your reputation to squander, if you so wish, I was merely giving you a little friendly advice; it's what we dowagers are wont to do, regardless of age." She glanced about, as if making sure they were utterly alone, "I'm not as thoroughly pleased with the Standards as my position seems to require, please do not mistake me or my intentions."

"As you wish, of course," said the girl, still not convinced but hopeful she had been mistaken. "We could do much together, me thinks," said she, at last broaching the subject that had made her interrupt the morning's otherwise pleasant solitude, "how would you like to be my companion and chaperone? I could introduce you properly to the local Society and you could satisfy the Standards concerning proper companionship for an unwed lady."

"Agreed," said she of the Pumpernickel, knowing somehow, that her agreement was somehow vital to whatever it was she was supposed to be doing. The banal creature was all smiles and eager exclamations at this while her matronly companion could only shake her head at such youthful exuberance.

Further discourse was happily prevented as a giant snort and something resembling a horrified squawk sounded from the adjacent ballroom, but it could be neither, as both were certainly forbidden under the Standards, thus it must certainly be something quite different, what the ladies knew not, but it most certainly wasn't what one might at first be led to assume. After the mysterious noise, Moppet, Miss Bellaire's maid, made her way, we shall not say frantically, as that also is a repulsive and non-Standardish phrase, with a quicker step than the situation might otherwise call for, into the gardens only to find her charge chatting with a lady of means. The horror that glinted through her pretty eyes was quickly buried under an assumed humility and blandness that could fool only the trifling Anastasia, Iris thought a lioness might more easily don a facade of meekness rather than this feisty creature posing as a lady's maid.

Came the perfectly Standard query, "forgive me miss, I did not mean to be tardy. What has transpired in my absence?" Anastasia then went on to introduce her companion and their wondrous plan, but while the servant might have been listening, she certainly was not gazing upon her mistress with the bland intensity required by the Standards, rather she seemed to be studying Lady Pumpernickel as if she were determining just where and how to slice this particularly annoying loaf. As Miss Bellaire blathered on, the ersatz dowager studied the impertinent servant with equal aplomb; were those pretty little ears slightly pointed under all that marvelous hair? Strange, but no stranger than the rest of the happenings of late, but certainly something to remember.

As Anastasia tapered off, more out of need for breath than for lack of inane things to say, Moppet intervened to spare them all the dread fate of being talked to death, "but miss, your wedding is not a week away! What would his lordship say? Would you wish to imperil your future thus?"

"You sound like Aunt Mildred!" squeaked the girl in distress, "Why do you think I wish for a little fun before our vows solemnize me into the utter dullness of a societal tomb? His lordship need not know!"

"Yes miss," said the servant quite properly but giving Iris such a venomous glare that she might well have been poisoned on the spot, had the girl fangs to match her eyes.

"Of course I shall be staying with you until the wedding," continued Anastasia as if they had not been interrupted, "I couldn't countenance another night with my drear Aunt Mildred."

"Don't you mean dear?" asked the dowager.

"I meant what I said," smiled the girl sourly, "and I've a mind to send her harridan of a maid packing as well! She's a spy and a tattletale and more bossy than even my horrid aunt, dreadful creatures both of them." Said she in a whisper heard by an early rising gardener on the far side of the enclosure, "it's almost as bad as living amongst a horde of Things."

Said Iris in growing interest, "and know you much of Things?"

"Certainly not," laughed the superfluous girl, "but the mere idea is enough to give one's imagination fits."

"I suppose you should send your girl off to inform your aunt and fetch your things?" said the lady in high hopes of escaping the garden before they overstayed their welcome and the Queen had no recourse but to officially install them as gardeners.

"Righto!" said the girl in a very unladylike fashion, "off with you Moppet."

"But where is your companion staying miss," asked the furious maid, though as calm and unruffled upon the surface as a pond on a windless day.

"Everyone knows that dear," said Madam Iris cheekily, "just ask around and I'm sure you'll find my address eventually." Thus spake she, for she had no idea herself where her quarters were, or even if she had any, but assuming she had a coach and servants, she must also be in possession of an address, whatever it be. With a parting nod for the now glowering servant, angry beyond all control, Iris took the girl's hand and led her back through the ballroom, out into the foyer, and into her waiting carriage.

The girl eyed the upholstery with a keen eye and nodded to herself, convinced she had at least inveigled her way into a fashionable household. Iris rolled her eyes, covertly, so as not to upset the Standards and called to her driver, "home please." And off they went. There was little said during the interminable ride as Miss Anastasia dozed and Iris contemplated what had been and what might yet be, but this did not keep her from glancing out the window, if only to keep from accidentally meeting the girl's eyes and condemning herself to more idle prattle. She tried not to jolt in shock, not only was it non-Standard but it might also look suspicious, for she saw a dragon perched jauntily atop a certain house as they rattled by though no one else seemed to pay the spectacle the least interest, as if they were well used to the sight or could not see the phenomenal creature. At another juncture, she was quite sure what everyone else took for a placid old carthorse, blinding white with age, was actually a unicorn.

Now proper ladies were not allowed to study history or politics or philosophy or Things, but fairy tales were considered quite proper, being utterly silly and fictitious, much like Miss Anastasia and most young ladies, there could be no harm in them whatsoever. So it was that Iris could identify these strange and wonderful creatures, wondering again if they had always been there and only now could she see them. Which must be the case, as no one was stopping to gape or running about with torches and pitchforks, and even as sheltered as her life had been, she was fairly certain dragons were not a common sight in this particular town. So if they had always been there, what were they up to? And then there was the maid and her curious ears, was she some strain of elf or pixie? Iris glanced at her dozing companion speculatively, mouth agape and snoring at her leisure, the Standards forgotten, what could the little imp want with such a specimen? Most intriguing! She settled back in her own seat eagerly anticipating what was to come, whatever it might be.

The coach pulled up at one of the most expensive and stylish domiciles in the entire city, thought Miss Iris to herself, 'nothing like keeping a low profile!' Smiling jauntily, something only a dowager could dare, she leapt from the carriage, awakening her new charge with the clatter.

"Oh!" said the girl in awe, climbing out of the equipage, "how marvelous! If I knew you were this rich, madam, I'd forego the wedding and simply move in with you."

"Then you might come to feel for me as you do for your poor aunt," replied Iris calmly.

"Quite," said the girl.

As they settled themselves in the parlor for tea, a ritual both could perform in their sleep, even in a strange house as mistress of servants she'd never met, Iris could still be a proper hostess. "It must be great fun being a dowager," mused the girl, glancing around eagerly and imagining the possibilities.

"I'm so new at it I can hardly venture an opinion," grinned Iris quite truthfully, "but the Standards are certainly less harsh in their censure and restrictions for one of my persuasion."

"Maybe I'll be so lucky?" wished the girl wistfully.

Iris shuddered, wondering whither her sense lay, if indeed she possessed any, for the death of a husband was certainly not something to be wished for, was it, at least by decent folk? She was fairly certain the Standards were strangely silent on that particular point. Changing the subject to something less grim, she asked, "you have been staying with your aunt?"

"Yes," said the girl, adding more sugar to her tea, "my Great Aunt, in fact."

"Your family does not reside in the city?" asked Dowager Pumpernickel with all the solemnity befitting such a ridiculous name.

"I have no other family to speak of," said the girl, adding even more sugar to her already gelatinous tea, "I was only a child at the time, when Things happened."

"Things?" asked Iris, curious as even Miss Anastasia Bellaire could desire.

"Yes, Things," said the girl in a whisper heard by a maid in the attic.

"How scandalous!" said the shocked, but intrigued dowager.

"Quite," agreed the girl.

Said the lady with a pensive frown, "but yet you are engaged?"

"It is quite strange," giggled the insipid little thing, "at least by the Standards, but after his last experience, perhaps he thought to try something completely different?"

"An only child from a family of means with a scandalous history?" mused Miss Iris, "very different from his former choice. Do you know anything more of the matter? Of what happened to your family?"

"No," said the girl in disappointment, for it would be quite the story to tell, "all I know is that Things beset my entire family: mother, father, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, you name it, only Great Aunt Mildred and I survived, mostly because I was staying with her in town at the time while everyone else had gone to Uncle Oliver's estate to celebrate his superior pumpkin harvest. Aunt Mildred never did like poor Uncle Oliver and never would deign to even feign excitement over his various agricultural achievements, something to do with stealing credit for raising a rather large pig when they were children, but then a lady could never take credit for That, imagine! But they have never spoken one civil word since. I was left to keep her company, or so says my drear Aunt, I was too little to remember aught of it, while all the others went to have a merry time in the country. Certainly an unjust doom to befall so innocent a child, but as it turned out, it was rather fortuitous I didn't go; I believe they call that irony."

"Indeed," said Iris, "what a tragedy! And certainly ironic," added she quickly at the girl's raised brows of surprise.

"Yes, I suppose it was tragic, quite tragic," mused she, "but what was even worse was that I was never given any of the juicier details with which to regale my friends. I could have been quite the toast of the town, for years and years. Things like that don't happen very often and one ought to take advantage of it when one can."

"Perhaps we should retire for a brief repose, my dear," said Iris, feeling very much as drear and peevish as Aunt Mildred was rumored to be.

"That would be just the thing," grinned the girl, leaving her spoon to stand upright in her over sugared tea.

Miss Iris sat in her chair, pondering all she had heard, all that was said and wasn't, of things seen and supposed. What could such a vexing creature have to do with anything? Why were the pixie folk involved and secretly eager for the wedding to take place? With a growing sense of both dread and anticipation, the lady knew what she must do. She stood, rang for her maid, and with all the panache of a knight donning his armor to face some horrid foe, she too donned her second best visiting dress and third best hat, for one never knew if and when the Queen might come for tea. Some parts of the Standard were utterly barbaric or nonsensical, but it had its wisdom as well. Thus accoutered, she climbed back into the carriage, which seemed to have an uncanny knack of knowing when it was needed, she called rather needlessly to the driver, "to Aunt Mildred's please."

How the fellow knew where to go, when there must be countless Aunt Mildreds in a town of this size, she could only wonder, but that was his peculiar sort of magic, as it was to know when she had need of the carriage. Just like Things, it was improper for a lady to inquire too deeply into the ways of the servants, a subset of society almost as mysterious as Things, if more commonly seen. Still pondering over all that happened of late, the pseudo-dowager relaxed back into the cushions and allowed the coachman to miraculously bear her thither by whatever means he felt most efficacious, not even goggling or jolting forward to gawk at the strange things that passed outside the window: a minotaur hauling a barrel of ale, a veritable imp running with the street urchins. It was becoming as routine as tea and nothing to fluster a lady of breeding and status.

Had she descended from her carriage as nothing more daring than a lord's wife with his six and twenty names trailing after her like the train on some hideously out of fashion gown, Aunt Mildred might have intimidated her, but she came upon this visit as confident as the Queen, though Aunt Mildred did not see the necessity of donning her best gown even so, for she was a Queen, a Queen of secrets and mysteries even she could not yet fathom; it was all quite exciting, at least to her, Aunt Mildred certainly seemed unperturbed.

"Ah Lady Dowager," said she, not rising from her fashionable but uncomfortable chair, "so you are the one who has absconded with my ward and set all the tongues in town wagging in gossip."

Without waiting for an invitation, Lady Pumpernickel plopped herself down in the homeliest, and therefore most comfortable, chair, eliciting a sneer from the Great Aunt at her obvious lack of taste. Said she with a very discomfiting smile, "I think it more the case that your charge foisted herself upon me, and what the town gossips have to discuss is none of my doing, save to offer a new subject for their threadbare tongues to waggle over."

"I see you are not a creature to be trifled with," said the Mildred, ringing for tea, as if the impertinent visitor had passed some sort of initial trial and would be offered this one semblance of civility in recognition of that fact. Continued she, taking no sugar or milk in her tea, "you're after my ward's fiancé yourself, are you not?"

"Whyever would I be?" said Iris, quite astonished, "having once had a husband is quite enough for one lifetime, don't you think?"

"I wouldn't know," said the Aunt acerbically, "I am quite a spinster and have never had the opportunity to mix much in society."

"And what came of your extended family, madam?" asked Iris, not bothering with any social niceties and going directly for the throat, for she no longer feared or abided by the Standards.

The old woman's face became feral indeed, "direct? I like that, but then you are a dowager. Things, my lady, Things!"

"But how did you and your niece escape so fortuitously?" pressed the Lady Pumpernickel.

"It's all in the company one keeps," countered the ancient one.

"Your family was wont to entertain Things?" gasped Our Lady of Bread.

"There was a reason we were not on speaking terms," sneered she, "now what are your intentions towards my vacuous niece?"

"I haven't the foggiest," said her ladyship quite honestly, "I feel like I have just become possessed by a cat."

The old lady actually chuckled, "I thought it might be something to that effect. And good riddance."

"Truly?" said the seeming dowager in some astonishment.

The look directed at the non-widow was full of meaning, most of it quite prohibited to be spoken aloud by the Standards, but it was politely summed up with the statement, 'imagine entertaining such a creature for years on end madam, I do not care what you do with her so long as she no longer dwells under my roof. If you are so silly as to permanently keep her under yours, that is your problem.'

"I see we have an understanding," said Iris in wonder, rising to leave, as it seemed the visit was now over, but she turned, eyes narrowing in consternation, "what of the maid?"

"I haven't seen the creature since she accompanied her mistress to the Queen's Ball last evening," said the Aunt placidly, "I had assumed you were in possession of that little vixen as well."

"I sent her back to you to fetch the girl's wardrobe and inform you of her new accommodations," said Iris in puzzlement.

"I haven't seen the chit," said the Aunt, quite startling Our Lady Pumpernickel with her uncouth phraseology. Shrugged the Great Mildred, "I received word of it from other sources, but I think you and I are both well rid of the creature, a maid shouldn't be possessed of more cunning than her mistress. I kept her around because she was a true wizard when it came to mastering the uncouth tresses of her mistress, but otherwise I never liked or trusted the creature: it's one thing to have attitude and quite another to flaunt it, she had too little control of her emotions to be a proper servant."

With these puzzling words, Lady Iris took her leave, the Great One calling after affably, "stop in again milady, I thoroughly enjoyed our chat, just leave your new ward at home." Thoroughly astonished, she hied herself back to the waiting carriage and allowed the driver to bear her whither he would while she thought deeply upon all that had happened, and hadn't.

At last they returned to what was now apparently home and she disembarked, only to have a very sinking feeling arise in her stomach, for there, parked and waiting on the far side of the street, was what could only be Her Majesty's Carriage, the second best of course, it would not do to take the best carriage out for so pedestrian a visit, but at last the Lady Iris could don her best day dress, for at last, the Queen had come to call! She scuttled into the house as quickly as propriety and the Standards would allow, careful to avoid any contact with Her Highness, lest she take offense at the second best dress and die of insulted apoplexy then and there, for that would be scandal indeed. Happily Anastasia was still abed, so it was a mere trifle to don the Best Dress and give her maid a few moments to refurbish her hair, and within an hour and a half, record time for such proceedings, she was seated across from the Queen contentedly sipping tea in the Best Parlor, also only used when Royalty came a-calling.

After an interminable silence, interrupted only by the slurping of tea, not that the Standards would allow such vulgar phraseology to be applied to Her Majesty's habits of ingestion, the Queen at last broached the reason for her visit, said she, with a significant glare at the household staff, who promptly took the cue and vanished from sight and hearing, not that they weren't likely to listen in as best they could, it was simply unseemly to be caught in the act, "now My Lady Dowager, I suppose you are curious as to the nature of my visit?" Iris bobbed her head politely, for obviously she had not come solely to give Iris the long awaited chance to wear the Best Dress, sit in the Best Parlor, and sip the Best Tea, as thrilling as those things were.

"I'd like to talk about Things," continued the Queen, her emphasis on the last word quite particular.

"Things?!" squeaked the lady of the house, "know you aught of them?"

"Well," said the Queen, certain that only the sofa and half the household staff were listening keenly, "it is certainly not the proper province of ladies, quite true, but as Queens are not technically ladies, I do not fall under that particular clause of the Standards."

"And Dowagers?" asked Iris primly.

"About as ladylike as most Queens, or so I'm told," agreed Her Majesty jovially.

"Why me?" asked Iris.

The Queen shrugged as if it should be obvious, Iris narrowed her eyes contemplatively, "you have just said that Dowagers and Queens can know things about Things, but have you so few Dowagers in whom to confide?"

"Exactly," said Her Highness with another unladylike slurp of tea, "I'm near to bursting with carrying secrets all these years and just tickled that finally I have someone with whom to discuss them!"

"Could you not confide in the gentlemen of your court, Highness?" asked Iris, quite perplexed.

"How silly!" expostulated the Queen, giggling as only Anastasia could, "a true gentleman is allowed to know even less about Things than is a proper lady, for you see my dear, at least in our city, who knows what they do in foreign parts, but if a true gentleman learned about Things, he'd have to go out and do something about them, being a man of courage, honor, and action as he undoubtedly must be. So needless to say, it would be quite upsetting to Society to have all our men thus engaged, thus the Standards have been carefully worded to either preclude the men in question from learning aught of Things or only allowing those of neither character nor action to learn a little, and thus sparing us all the embarrassment and inconvenience."

Quite lost as to the logic behind such a sentiment, Madam Pumpernickel tried her best to comprehend the situation, "so you are saying, Majesty, that if a man knows aught of Things, then he is likely a cad or afflicted with the gout and thus not prone to do something about it, but the measure of a true gentleman is that he has never even heard of Things?"

"Excellent," said the Queen, "I told you dowagers were a different breed of cat altogether, especially the foreign sort. We'll get along fine you and I, milady. Now what of this fluffy little female you've acquired of late, suspicious timing me thinks?"

"I'm afraid I little know," mused Miss Iris, "as I told her Great Aunt Mildred, it was much like coming into the possession of a cat."

"True enough, at least you know something of cats and therefore even more of ladies," nodded the Queen in approval, "you'll do well indeed, me dear."

"Do what?" asked the eager non-dowager.

"Things," said Her Majesty, "you must do something about those dratted Things."

"But I know nothing whatsoever about them, Highness!" said the breaded lady as politely as possible.

"But have I not expounded upon them at length?" queried the astonished Queen, forgetting that just because she knew something didn't mean everyone to whom she spoke was likewise enlightened.

"No, Highness," said Iris patiently, or as patiently as one can sitting in the Best Parlor with a rather confounding Queen slurping your Best Tea and talking in circles.

"Well," said Her Majesty, "Things are quite dreadful, or so I've been led to believe, and quite a threat to our sovereignty and all that; it would be quite satisfactory if you settled the matter quickly." With that she stood, drained her cup in one final gulp, and allowed Iris to curtsey quite properly as she left the room.

"But Majesty," said the lady plaintively, "I yet know nothing of Things!"

"Do not be ridiculous me dear," chortled the Queen, "you know far more now than any gentleman in the realm. Remember, I want Things dealt with in as efficient a manner as possible."

"Yes, Highness," said the resigned dowager impersonator, knowing she'd get nothing more from the perplexing woman.

"Excellent," grinned the Queen, as her carriage drew up to the door, "I knew I could count on you." Thought Iris to herself as she shut the door, 'you certainly can, but I wish I knew for what!'

Extreme Measures

At dinner, Anastasia was quite put out not to have been wakened for the Queen's visit, never yet having had opportunity to don her Best Dress, but she was still young and who knows, perhaps she'd get a surprise visit in celebration of her wedding, one could always hope. "How was it?" beamed the florid girl, "I've only ever seen her from a distance, for all we attended her Ball last night."

"It was certainly an experience," smiled her ladyship grimly.

"So I've heard," sighed the girl, "I suppose you spent just hours talking of important secrets of state?"

"That would have been preferable," replied the lady quite truthfully, "mostly she drank tea with particular vim."

"I've heard that she does," chuckled the girl, "but then Queens are hardly reckoned as ladies."

"Neither are dowagers," countered Iris.

"Well," simpered the girl, "we all can't be so lucky."

"No," said Iris, "we certainly cannot." The rest of the meal was completed in welcome silence as Anastasia determined just how her own visit with the Queen might go and Iris calculated exactly how many hours remained until Miss Bellaire was safely married.

With no very exciting activities planned for the evening hours or visitors to amuse them, Anastasia withdrew to practice her Accomplishments, hoping to perfect them ere the wedding, for married ladies had no time for such girlish endeavors and she would like to say truthfully after the wedding that yes, indeed she had been a master of that particular fad in embroidery and could sing quite fluently in that vogue foreign tongue. Thus it was that Miss Iris was left alone for the entirety of the evening, much to be preferred to Miss Bellaire's insipid company to be sure, but she felt she ought to be doing something to solve this mystery, both for the Queen and her own odd mission, whatever it be.

Just then the bell rang, but like the proper lady she seemed, she sat, however impatiently, and waited for the servants to deal with the matter before bringing her word of this most welcome distraction from her own muddled musings. At last the butler entered and offered his lady a plain envelope with only a hideous blob of greenish purple wax in lieu of a proper seal. The man disdainfully handed the vulgar missive to his mistress, as if it was a rotting fish. She took it curiously, wondering what it might contain, for certainly it was no Society invitation, unless from a VERY inexperienced hostess. With no answers apparent on the exterior, there was but one thing to do and she delved into the contents.

"Oh dear," sighed she, scanning the epistle a second time just to make sure.

"The carriage madam?" asked the unsurprised butler. At her nod he strode away as imperious as a lion pacing in a cage.

The second best dress was good enough for day visits to anyone in town, the Best Dress sufficed for tea with the Queen, but what did one wear for an audience with the Fairy Queen? She hated to ask, but there was no other option as she rang for her maid. "The Very Best Dress, mam?" gasped the girl, as if she had asked for the Queen's head on a platter, which might be a less egregious request, come to think of it.

Sighed her mistress, "yes, Tiffy, I have no choice and we must make haste." The girl bobbed a curtsy and then hustled her ladyship into her room that she might make the best of these dire tidings. The Very Best Dress was reserved solely for state emergencies, should an Emperor arise and come to tea or a Foreign Invader take over the country, but as far as Iris could ascertain, this was much the same thing.

Tiffy was just putting the last touches on the Lady Dowager's coiffure when Anastasia came bounding in unannounced, "you have taken Extreme Measures, milady! Can I come?"

"No," said Iris staunchly, "I have no idea what to expect from such an audience and the very summons was overtly hostile in nature." She quickly explained the lack of care taken with the invitation, much horrifying her protégé.

Said the girl contritely, "you are quite right madam, this is no encounter proper for an unmarried girl." She looked up brightly and smiled, "but when I'm a dowager, things will be quite different." With this encouraging thought, she bounced back to her Accomplishments as Iris hastened into the carriage and out of town, the ever mysterious driver not blinking an eye when she ordered him to drive into a haunted wood in the dead of night, but how were they to bypass the gates, which were never opened after dark, not even for the Queen herself? But in some puzzling or mysterious fashion, probably both, they managed just that without pause, noise, or disturbance. Perhaps the feat was on a level with all those strange Things hidden about town in plain sight? Whatever the means, it kept our Lady of Dowagers busy until they entered that peculiar Wood.

As before, night itself seemed to drape about them, but the driver, footman, and horses seemed indifferent to the phenomenon and simply kept going. When they stopped and opened the door, the lady stood and made to exit, looking at her servants in question, but their faces were as blandly neutral as a lamp post and the horses stood as still and unconcerned as if they were in their own stalls at home. Taking their blithe indifference as a sign that perhaps all was not lost, she lifted her skirts and made her way into the whelming darkness, which oddly parted before her like a great velvet curtain, giving way before her like water around the bow of a boat. She glided forward, as confident as a swan on its home pond, and didn't even look back anxiously to see if the carriage was still there as she dove headfirst into the utter unknown.

It was a palace certainly, the most outlandish building she had ever seen, if it was a building at all, for parts of it looked almost cave-like while others were certainly vegetative, but ignoring the architectural enigmas, she followed a lad deeper into the edifice, taking note of his marvelous hair and tapered ears, but she was quite disturbed to see Moppet sitting regally upon the throne as she entered the Fairy Queen's chamber, albeit no longer dressed as a lady's maid. After the proper courtesies, they spent an awkward moment glaring at one another before the Queen descended from her throne and motioned for the visitor to seat herself in an adjoining area where tea was waiting.

"How kind of you to come," scorned the Queen.

"How could I refuse such a unique invitation?" counterthrusted Iris.

"Polite as ever," snarked Her Majesty.

"As are you, Highness," replied the visitor.

"This is getting us nowhere!" hissed the Queen.

"I certainly agree," said Iris.

"Why are you interfering?" demanded Her Majesty.

Iris was quite taken aback, "interfering in what? I hardly know what it is I have begun."

"You speak truly," said the Queen quietly, like a knife leaving the sheath is quiet, "do you not know what it is you have done?"

"No," said Iris bluntly, "I haven't the foggiest idea what is going on, save that I have acquired a rather featherbrained houseguest," she paused to do some mental subtraction, "who will be getting married in exactly 122.1 hours." She could not help but smile at the irony, "that and the Queen has ordered me to take care of Things, in a most expedient manner, without telling me what they are or what is to be done with them."

"Quite like her," mused the Fairy Queen happily, studying her foe in a new light, said she, hoping to convey a sense of friendly understanding, "so you are completely clueless as to the import of the events swirling around you?" Iris nodded solemnly and the Queen continued, "and could you not just step aside and go on your way without importuning others?"

Iris shook her head grimly, "I have a mission, I haven't a clue what it entails, but I will not tuck my tail between my legs and retreat even so."

"Then I shall have to become desperate," said she in the deathly silence of that great hall, smiling wickedly she added, "and I can be quite dangerous when desperate."

"What is all this about?" protested the girl, figuring if the Queen didn't kill her, curiosity would.

"How did you get involved in this anyway?" snarled the Queen, like some irked wolf when another impinges on her territory and pack. Iris merely smiled, it wasn't a happy gesture, more like a lioness keeping a really juicy secret from a pack of scrawny, ill-mannered wolves.

"I see we are at an impasse," said the Queen frigidly, but said in parting, in a voice brimming with anticipation, "just remember what I said about danger, My Lady." Iris knew herself dismissed, offered the proper courtesies, and followed the pointy eared ladling back to where her carriage waited.

As she climbed back into the vehicle, she asked boldly of the driver, thinking the Standards could have no sway in this particular part of the world, "can you truly find your way home again? Does none of this dismay or surprise you?" He only smiled like a cat keeping its own counsel and tipped his hat before climbing aboard and clucking to his team. Iris sighed, would no one tell her what was going on?

They arrived home with the dawning, only for Iris to realize she had not slept in nearly two days yet felt quite well when exhaustion should be dogging her footsteps like a cat convinced she carried kippers. Anastasia was still abed when she returned, having stayed up quite late with her Accomplishments, but she was extremely distraught to learn that though My Lady had gone somewhere in secret and haste and clad in the Very Best Dress without her, she absolutely refused to speak on the matter at all, a most vexing development indeed, especially as Anastasia had been so very gracious as to remain at home!

Madam the Dowager had far more important matters to be vexed about, most revolving around Queens and their complete lack of information. What was she to do? She was tasked with dealing with Things, and in a most efficient manner mind you!, yet knew nothing of what Things were, let alone how to deal with them. Why was the Fairy Queen involved in this muddle? So much so as to personally involve herself in the guise of a lady's maid, of all things! Especially to such a flimsy person as Anastasia seemed to be. She doubted the fairyfolk had much use for mortals in general, and mortals like Miss Bellaire least of all, for even her fellow mortals were rather confounded as what to do with her. Yet the Queen had made mention of the girl, a thing which in general should be beneath her notice, even if she was soon to wed one of the most important men in the country. And then there was the mysterious vanishment of all the girl's assorted kith and kin, purportedly at the hands of Things but there was no evidence save the memories of a young girl. It was time to have another chat with Great Aunt Mildred.

She wrote out a lavish invitation, a far cry from the Fairy Queen's reprehensible note, and sent it directly to that aged dame, and just to occupy the rest of the day, and feeling Anastasia would need some distraction lest she turn sulky over her dull evening while her patroness was off having adventures untold, she also sent a polite but far less flamboyant invitation to her ward's intended. She did it as a courtesy to Miss Bellaire, who might not otherwise see the object of her affection until they were properly married, for it wouldn't be proper without supervision, but she could not deny that she was also, just a tad bit, only infinitesimally of course, curious. That was another fact that had somewhat unsettled her, not that anything should in this curious occupation, but no one seemed to recognize her. True, she had not been a widely known societal belle but she had been the wife of a very influential man for over a decade and had attended and hosted countless societal functions in that capacity. Very odd, just like everything else of late, perhaps she had best start getting used to the idea that nothing was like to be predictable from here on out.

Miss Anastasia Bellaire did worse than sulk over the light luncheon, only five courses, they shared before the anticipated arrival of her suitor for tea and Great Aunt Mildred for an evening of cards or something equally tedious, she flew into a veritable tizzy, lashing out with all the grace of a cornered, terrified cat. "I can't believe you did THAT!" announced the girl in such hideous tones that the Standards would faint outright, were they a fine lady capable of such a noble feat.

The Lady Iris merely raised one patient, though scandalized, eyebrow questioningly as she said, "I thought you would appreciate seeing your beloved, most brides-to-be find it a pleasant experience."

"I hardly know the fellow," roared she in vehemence, "and I'll have the rest of my life to spend in his company! I thought to relish a few last days of FREEDOM and ADVENTURE, but all I find is more tedium and HIM! Aunt Mildred was better, she never even met the man!"

"At least she'll be here to scold you properly after supper," said that Lady quietly, as a snake about to strike is silent, at least she had learned something useful from the Fairy Queen. The girl only glowered at her and swept upstairs to sulk in proper solitude. Thus was Milady Pumpernickel quite alone when the lovelorn suitor arrived in all his eager solicitude. She blinked at him in utter surprise, the only hint that she was indeed rattled to her core, as the servant ushered him into the Second Parlor where her ladyship was pretending to embroider, but was far too lost in thought to even think about wielding a needle with any finesse. He made the proper courtesies and glanced about awkwardly but could not seem to find the reason for his visit, so seated himself and tried not to wonder what was truly afoot.

It was not surprise at seeing him again, wistfulness for what had been, or even anger for his treatment of her, wondrously she was quite indifferent to her former situation but it was his rather pointedly pointed ears that had so discombobulated her, but never one to let extreme shock paralyze her into inaction, she said quite graciously, "I fear your lady has taken to her room; she has been seized with a most unfortunate fit and will not be fit for company for some little time. I must apologize for the inconvenience."

"No inconvenience madam, truly," said he quite truthfully, as if she had just told him a man he had never met, and was completely unassociated with, was not feeling quite the thing. There was no reaction at all, he might as well be discussing the weather with a stranger on the street. Continued he in extreme politeness, "I thank you for your trouble however, it is most appreciated, for I could never quite get near my intended lady except at large social gatherings, for her Aunt would not countenance such a meeting." Here he smiled slightly, as if he found Aunt Mildred so quaint as to be beneath contempt.

"So how is it your engagement came about," asked she, "if you had so very little contact with the lady?"

He started at this, thinking it quite a personal question from a complete stranger, but she was a dowager so anything might be possible, said he cautiously, "it was an arranged matter between the families."

Her eyes narrowed, "but I thought the girl had no family save her Aunt, and if the Aunt didn't approve?"

"It's not that she didn't approve of me or the match," said he calmly, "but rather entertaining eligible young men in her own parlor. Being a single lady herself, even an aged one, to her mind, it just wasn't done."

"And why did you choose this particular lady?" asked Iris, going for the heart.

"It was the decision of my family," said he coldly, "I had no choice in the matter."

She surreptitiously studied those tapered ears and smiled like an intrigued cat, "I completely understand. And your previous entanglement?"

Grated he, "that was a family matter as well." Iris hid her shock quite well, she had thought he had fallen in love and spurned all tradition to marry her, and here it was an arrangement of his Fairy kin! Had they mistaken her for someone else? If they finally had the right woman, who was Anastasia Bellaire? Most intriguing indeed, that smile deepened, causing the gentleman to say as he rose, "that look never bodes well for me, I've seen my mother wear it on far too many occasions. I bid you good day madam and give my regards to your ward." He slammed his hat on his head and stalked from the house like a thwarted cat. His mother? She had thought his mother long dead, but then she had never known of his unique heritage either, in all their years together she had never seen his telltale ears, they had looked just like any other ears, at least to her eyes.

Miss Bellaire was still abed, fuming in grand style, when Aunt Mildred arrived. A secret amusement glinted in those usually stony eyes as she was ushered into the dining room, empty save for the lady of the house and a significant repast befitting a dozen ravenous guests. Said she without preamble, "I see some things never change? Your ward has taken to her room with a fit of something disagreeable perhaps?"

"Quite," said Miss Iris with an equal mirth sparkling in her keen eyes, "much has happened since our last chat and I thought I might beseech your help in answering a few riddles."

"Perhaps," said the elder lady cautiously, "what is it you wish to know?"

Iris wondered how much she could trust this aging woman who had apparently cared for Anastasia her entire life. Began Madam Pumpernickel just as cautiously, wanting information but not at the cost of revealing her own odd situation, "who or what is Miss Bellaire? What truly happened to her family? What do you know of the man she is to marry? Why would it interest the Queen?"

"You are a nosy one," smiled that dear Aunt with no little amusement, "but those are dangerous questions, milady, dangerous indeed."

"This whole situation is utterly ridiculous!" replied Lady Pumpernickel, "why so much ado about so much fluff of a girl?"

"What ado?" asked Mildred sternly, all mirth and caution suddenly replaced by a no nonsense concern, "I thought once she was safely married off to one of the most notable men in the realm, she'd trouble no one but her husband."

Throwing all care to the wind, Iris plunged in, sensing the other woman's honesty and true concern for the situation, if not the girl herself, "I had a visit from the Queen, she mentioned the girl quite casually and charged me to deal with Things, not that I have a clue what she wants me to do or even the nature of Things in general. I had a summons from the Fairy Queen, who was posing as the girl's maid, if you can believe such a thing!, who bade me leave well enough alone lest she grow dangerous. And then I met the young man today, and he too is of fairy descent."

"Gracious!" said Aunt Mildred, "you have had a time of it. Of course I knew the maid was of fairy lineage, but I had no idea it was the Queen herself, I figured it was better to have a spy I knew than one I didn't, so I didn't send her packing or otherwise alert her that I was wise to her meddling. I have never met the young man, and thought it a right and proper marriage for the girl, but I am glad you have discovered his secret before the wedding, that would never do! As to the Queen, she was never very discreet, she should not have mentioned the girl at all..." Aunt Mildred trailed off as a great bellow sounded through the house.

The two ladies exchanged a startled look, "you don't keep a bull do you?" queried Mildred, as if all urban ladies were as fond of such animals as they were of small obnoxious dogs.

"I thought it was yours," retorted Lady Iris in astonishment.

"They've come for the girl," said Great Aunt Mildred grimly, "their subterfuge has failed so they will take her by force."

Iris's eyes narrowed, wondering what the Fairyfolk might have to do with that hideous racket, but suddenly she remembered the minotaur she had glimpsed recently, posing as a porter for some inn or other, no doubt he was actually an agent of the Fairy Queen. "What are we to do?" asked Iris hopefully, never having tussled with even a pickpocket, let alone something as large and frightening as a minotaur was like to be.

Aunt Mildred was not one to let some overly zealous myth make off with her ward nor stand idly chatting when there was work to be done, she didn't reply as she was already leaving the room, a particularly impressive plum pudding clutched in both hands. Iris shrugged, took up a steaming platter of candied yams, and followed in the wake of the birdlike little general.

The staff stood there quite as patient and polite as ever, even with a bellowing and rampaging monster out of legend ransacking the lower reaches of the house. His nostrils flared and his beady, piggish eyes narrowed as he assessed the newcomers, but neither was his quarry so he dismissed them, puny female things as unlikely to hinder his search as the oblivious staff. Iris wondered idly why the butler wasn't having a fit, for any servant worth his salt would certainly be having a reaction of equal proportions to any of Miss Anastasia's exhibitions with the havoc the creature was making of the once exquisitely tidy house, especially the Best Parlor. Thankfully for her sake, Miss Bellaire was so deeply immersed in her own pouting that nothing could draw her forth for several more hours at least and the terror had not yet ascended to the second and third levels of the house.

The thoroughly ignored ladies exchanged an eager smile behind the brute's back, shrugged, and attacked. The bellow of rage shook the house from wine cellar to garret as a once marvelous pudding now covered the beast's bovine head, momentarily blocking his vision, but no sooner had he wiped it away than he was assaulted with a repulsive plate of root vegetables, Iris thinking it perhaps the only right and proper use for yams, horrid inedible things, but these too were swept away with all the ease of the unfortunate pudding, it truly had been a work of art. Now the creature was mad, apparently he had only been a wee bit miffed prior to this rather decadent assault upon his most esteemed personage, and he no longer considered them helpless and inconsequential bystanders.

"Have you ever fought a minotaur?" queried Aunt Mildred quite unhelpfully of Iris, who had never even been to a bullfight. She shook her head. Smiled Mildred in anticipation, "they are far less cunning than elves and slower than werewolves, tending to rely heavily on brute strength and the utter terror it usually inspires, overall, not a bad exercise for a beginner."

Iris openly gaped at her, regardless of what the Standards said, she highly doubted there was a section devoted to etiquette specific to encountering an enraged minotaur in one's Second Parlor, but she couldn't help it, the crazed old woman talked as if she had fought such creatures before, and on a regular basis, and that she expected the Dowager Pumpernickel to do likewise.

"You'll do just fine, dearie," grinned the incongruously impish elderly spinster as she dodged past the brute and towards the backstairs, apparently to rescue Anastasia.

Iris could only shrug in dismay and draw her sword. Despite the monster's howling, she paused long enough to blink at the sword as she had at Miss Bellaire's elfin suitor, where on earth or beyond it had that come from? Very few gentlemen wore swords nowadays, perhaps an elderly soldier whose wardrobe had not changed to keep up with the current fashions, but very few others, most especially a lady! With a shrug, she did what any dowager would do with a minotaur threatening to ravish her Best Parlor and plunged into the fray, only to discover she was quite a fair hand with a blade, especially for never having held anything more dangerous than a letter opener in her life. The beast howled in agony as his great bulk crashed upon her bared blade, sinking to the floor in a writhing mass of hair and blood that dispersed in a black and gray mist the moment the creature fell still.

"Oh dear," repined Miss Iris, noting that her third best dress was a complete ruin, not to mention the antique carpet, but shaking herself, she ran up the stairs to see what had come of the renegade Aunt and their flighty charge.

"See," said Aunt Mildred primly, "I told you, you could do it, did I not? Now what is to be done with Miss Bellaire?" The question was rhetorical, as Mildred certainly had a better grasp on the whole bewildering situation than Iris, dowager and minotaur slayer though she be. Said the Great Aunt with a disgusted shake of her head, "I fear we'll have to inform your mother."

Miss Anastasia Bellaire could hardly believe her ears, "but my mother is gone, taken by Things," protested she, it was very romantic and she was disinclined to lose such a history without something better to replace it.

Aunt Mildred threw her the bone, "your mother is Queen, child, all this was done in a vain effort to protect you and the realm."

"I should have known!" said Iris in wonder, "for each is just as silly as the other."

"How could you, dear?" asked Mildred in amusement, "society is full of such silly women, it is the Standard after all."

"My darling!" came the plaintive cry from below stairs.

Anastasia was still contemplating the revelation that she might be a Princess and had no thoughts for anything else, so it was quite a simple matter for her two matrons to descend the stairs to intercept the feignedly lovelorn suitor, said the Lady Dowager Iris with relish, "oh stuff it, will you?!"

The rather flummoxed man stared from one lady to the other, seeming momentarily as dense as minotaurs were purported to be, "I beg your pardon?"

Both ladies posted their fists on their hips and glared daggers at the impertinent youth, said Mildred with unconcealed contempt, "really, sir? Where were you when the minotaur was rampaging through the house? And don't give me that lame line that gentlemen cannot deal with Things, for you are certainly no gentleman but rather some scion of pixie kind, you ridiculous imp! You aren't going to play the hero when you left it to a gentlewoman to rescue yon damsel, now off with you, and tell your mother her plots and plans have failed, you'll not be marrying the heir to the crown any time soon if we can help it!"

"My mother will not be pleased," said he stonily.

"I met your mother," chuckled Iris in spite of numerous Standards to the contrary, "I doubt she's ever pleased with anything!"

He shrugged and sauntered coolly down the stairs, a wry smile on his face, "well that's a relief after all! I know the reputation of the creature to which I was engaged and was not looking forward to such a union, ugh! She is all yours, ladies, and I resign you to your well deserved fate."

"No one deserves that," countered Aunt Mildred.

He smiled in truth, "quite right madam, quite right, but I still caution you, mumsie will not be pleased."

"We'll manage," grinned Iris with vim.

He shrugged anew and said in parting, "I suppose you will at that."

"What a momma's boy!" laughed Great Aunt Mildred, "perhaps it was Anastasia who was spared a most miserable circumstance after all?"

"It wasn't that bad," mused Iris wistfully, "but then I doubt he had much to do with his mother back then, no personality to speak of, a dandy of the first water certainly, but he wasn't rude, mean, or cruel."

It was Aunt Mildred's turn to blink, which she did quickly, and moved on as calmly as if it was just another minotaur trashing the drawing room, said she, "so you're the former wife are you? And he just tossed you out when your union failed to produce bairns, did he? Silly creature, does he not know there can be no offspring from such a pairing?"

"Probably," said Iris with a disgusted shake of her head, "or at least his mother likely knew, but it was a convenient enough way to dispose of me and pursue Miss Bellaire."

Miss Mildred frowned pensively, "but why marry you in the first place?"

"He said it was a family arrangement," said Iris thoughtfully, "I wonder if they mistook me for the Princess."

"That is likely the case," agreed Miss Mildred, she grinned widely, "and then to have his mistake return and interfere in his final triumph! How deliciously ironic."

"But what do the Fairyfolk get out of it?" queried Iris in confusion.

"The realm," said Mildred grimly, "and a chance to expand their borders."

"Sounds properly aristocratic and political," agreed Lady Pumpernickel.

"The elves always are, my dear," said that lady with a grim smile, "how do you think the nobility came up with the Standards?"

"I always did wonder about that," grinned the Dowager, "as they are hardly creative, save perhaps in the invention of ever more heinous fashion accessories."

"Even that is stolen from the elves," remarked the Mildred solemnly.

"If only we could spare the realm that fate," repined Miss Iris.

"We are not that powerful, my dear," said the Aunt of Greatness, with a resigned shake of her head.

"You seem to know a thing or two about this strange occupation?" said Lady Iris hopefully.

There was that cat-like smile, mysterious, deep, impenetrable, "I do, thank you, and one day you will as well, but until then, we had best accost the Queen."

As quickly as femininely possible, all three ladies were quickly accoutered in their Best Dress and went to call upon the Queen, who was far from happy to see them, especially as she had ordered Iris to deal with Things, for it seemed Things and things were far from dealt with and certainly not efficiently. "I'm afraid I'll have to take your head, dear" said the Queen rather grimly, "nothing personal you know, but when you fail so miserably in accomplishing an assignment I gave you most particularly, well it looks very much like treason."

Turning away from the condemned, she addressed her frivolous daughter, "well dearie, I suppose I'll have to see you properly married to some foreign prince or other, as it seems Things are intent on having you and my realm."

Then she addressed Aunt Mildred in disgust, "and you! I told you not to bother me with the details until the girl was well and properly married. I'm afraid you'll just have to suffer the same fate as your equally failed companion there." She nodded curtly and several large and barbarous looking footmen stepped forward to see to the messy particulars.

"Perhaps we should have let the elves have their way," murmured Miss Iris as they were clapped in irons and dragged to the city square where a large crowd had gathered in anticipation.

"Don't be ridiculous, dearie," grinned Miss Mildred, "we can't expect the silly creatures to thank us or even to understand that they should be grateful."

Iris sighed, "I suppose we can't at that, what was I thinking?"

"You weren't," agreed her companion, "which is an unusual habit for you and one of the reasons you never quite fit into Society."

"At least we'll give them a little something to talk about," said Iris grimly.

"I've been doing just that for years," chuckled the lady, as they pushed her forward with her neck over the block.

"You are certainly chipper for someone who's about to lose their head," groused the soon to be late dowager.

"I've been doing just that for years beyond count, darling, and so will you!" and with a thud and rather a horrid mess, dear departed Mildred had nothing further to impart, which was just as well, for her companion really wasn't up for listening at the moment either.

A Sewing Lesson

So much for her Best Dress, thought Miss Iris wistfully, really, she should have been allowed to go home and change, for one was NEVER executed in her Best Dress, the Standards were quite clear on that point, but then her third best dress was an utter ruin after the incident with the minotaur, and that was the only acceptable alternative in such situations, Society might well be so offended that they'd call for her head, again. She grinned at this, wondering whether her unseemly demise or her scandalous attire was likely to set more tongues wagging. For her first adventure, it hadn't turned out half bad, save that she still had no idea what she was doing. If this was death, it certainly felt an awful lot like her life of late, and haunting this wretched forest wasn't exactly something she had thought of as even a short-term career, let alone an eternity. But then she wasn't exactly a disembodied spirit either. And there was her coach and driver, waiting patiently as ever, she grinned in spite of herself and boarded the vehicle, smiling in anticipation of her next adventure; this was starting to be fun!

Things...mused Iris as the coach rattled along en route to who knew where, if only she knew more about Things her life would make so much more sense, or so she hoped, but she had a nagging suspicion it wouldn't. At least she knew more about Things now than the average man was wont to know, which surprisingly was actually less than the average woman, even though Society worked overtime to make sure women were kept as ignorant and flighty as possible, lest they accidentally take over the world. Now there was a thought, what if an Empress should arise rather than an Emperor, as some feared, thus requiring The Very Best Dress? What would come of fashion then, would the Very Best Dress be good enough? Probably not, thus requiring the Ultimate Best Dress or perhaps the Bestest Best Dress, either of which would ultimately be the downfall of all decent Society, and a good portion of the indecent as well, not to mention Grammar Reform, if the latter was adopted. What a mess, perhaps Society knew what it was doing after all?

She could not help but smile widely at her wild musings as her coach and four rushed off upon another vital adventure, the coachman only knew where. She still had little idea of what she had entangled herself in, but it was most certainly not tedious. The Lady Iris had read many a fairy tale in her youth and had never quite gotten over the habit, even as an established Society matron who should know better, or at least should have better taste, but nothing in all those wild tales even hinted at such a lifestyle nor such a heroine, but apparently she was not to know at this moment any more than she had already gleaned from her first mad adventure. Rather she must take it one day at a time, much as she must read the fairy tale one page at a time. It was a rather vexing thought, for she had hoped that things beyond her current reality would be far more sensible and straightforward, perhaps they were, but they were probably far from simple, indeed, how was her up-till-now mortal mind supposed to wrap itself around such complex metaphysical realities all at once? Nay, she must first learn the alphabet before she aspired to reading the great novels, not that girls were ever encouraged to do such an egregious thing, but she had always wanted to try and this might well be her chance.

At least she wasn't alone in this odd profession, whatever it be. She wasn't quite sure if the coachman and servants were actual people or not, as they said and did nothing not vital to their current duties; they seemed to have no personality, ambitions, thoughts, or dreams beyond their immediate actions. But Aunt Mildred and those two enigmatic Gentlemen from the Wood were certainly unique individuals. And then there were the Things, which technically as a class now included the Lady Iris and her colleagues as well, as she was beginning to understand that a Thing was simply anything that did not fit into Society's nice little definition of normal, which was very limiting indeed, not to mention exceedingly dull. She leant back into the cushions and smiled eagerly, whatever she had involved herself in, at least she wouldn't suffer that fate!

It was raining. And dark. Nothing did more to dampen one's spirits and perfectly coifed hair than to step out of a carriage after a long journey into a dripping night. Such evenings were lovely when one was snug at home in front of a fire with a cat and a book but otherwise such weather might well be classified in the long list of Things outside of Societal acceptance and propriety. But so too had the lady herself stepped outside of such stipulations, so she might as well be one with the night, that and she was rather eager for some occupation besides her own random and ignorant thoughts. More answers would be nice, but somehow she knew, like the much-anticipated end of a rousing tale, they would not be quick in coming. So she stepped forth in ignorance, much as she had done her entire life, it was simply a matter of looking like you knew what you were doing and nobody would dare think otherwise, at least Society had taught her that much. Yet neither was it true ignorance, as strangely she knew exactly what she must, when she must, so much for even that much of a boon from all her years mingling in High Society!

It was still dark and raining, obscuring everything but the ground under her fashionable boots and the coach beside which she stood, but even that solace was swiftly borne away as the coachman whipped up his team and vanished into the night. With a shrug, she began to walk, feeling that any direction was as good as any other at the moment, which seemed odd, as she had taken a rather long journey via equipage to get here so she at least assumed the place and time did in fact matter, but there was nothing else to do but trudge through the seemingly endless night, so that's what she did.

At least until she ran into a wall, though not literally. There it stood. A wall. Much like every other wall of stone she had ever seen. With another shrug, she chose to go left following the wall. Then she discovered a corner, and choosing to go left once more, she hastened onward to find yet another corner. Left again and she finally found something worthwhile, or so she hoped, musing that if she had gone right at the first, she might have saved herself a bit of a slog through the damp night. Leaving her musings, and she hoped the damp dark, behind her, she boldly rang the bell set beside the door in a stone walled building as unprepossessing as the wall enclosing the grounds whose perimeter she had just walked. A small gnome like creature answered at once, not in the least perturbed with a strange lady standing in what was likely the back garden ringing the bell at such an hour in such weather, but then they both had likely seen stranger Things and would likely see stranger still so it was of little matter.

As if the miniscule minion were nothing more uncommon than a common servant, the Lady entered, cast off her outerwear, and immediately began casting her eyes about for tea. But either gnomes were culturally opposed to tea or at least in offering it to their unannounced visitors or she was in a savage and heathen land. Or perhaps he just had not had time to fetch any and didn't want to offer such a unique guest tepid tea, a most grievous insult indeed! Thus mollified that all propriety was thus observed, our Lady of Purple Flowers boldly entered what she took to be the drawing room and there sat the reason for her visit. She hoped with all her heart that she was mistaken but she knew the truth when it sat before her. A quilting circle! How dreadfully mundane, but so it seemed thus to be ordained. Taking up a needle and thread and seating herself in the last empty chair, she resigned herself to handicrafts for the foreseeable future, wondering if any of the other ladies had ever accosted a minotaur or if the Gentlemen of the Wood had ever been forced to sew in what must be otherwise long and glorious careers, she doubted it.

As she attended to her portion of the voluminous project, she glanced curiously around the circle of faces but recognized no one, neither did anyone seem to be paying her any particular heed, certainly a stranger in their midst but then this was a rather uncouth quilting circle if she'd ever seen one, to be held at such an hour and hosted in a place where Things were wont to lurk, it was certainly not the thing, at least from Society's standpoint, which gave the reluctant quilter some hope for the gathering of seamstresses about her. At last a bell rang somewhere in the house and the ladies laid aside their thimbles, as the gnomish creature returned with proof that this was indeed a civilized house, as he poured the tea and passed out the requisite dainty cakes and elegant little sandwiches. Miss Iris nodded approvingly to herself and glanced hopefully around the circle, hoping someone might at last speak, for she was already quite aghast that one could quilt without gossip, but to sit over tea in silence was unthinkable!

Fearing she might go mad, though abstractly wondering that if decapitation posed no permanent harm to her person, was madness even possible in such a case?, she at last broke the silence, "please forgive the interruption, but would someone please tell me what is going on here?"

"Tea," said a pale, wide-eyed creature across from the Lady in Question.

Iris wished to blurt out the word 'obviously' but refrained, she wasn't mad, at least not yet. "But what are we doing here?" asked she as calmly as she could.

"Sewing," stated the same pallid maid across the way.

"But why?" asked the Lady who desired any answer but the obvious.

"Because we must," spaketh she for the third and final time.

So much for her interrogation, in the stories you only got three questions and she had apparently squandered hers. Now what? More quilting apparently. Then more tea. And so on, world without end. What might have been days later, Iris threw down her needle and stood defiantly before the silent throng, but no one reacted to her reaction. Her eyes narrowed as she took in the steady stitches and complete lack of curiosity or interest in anything. They were about as lively as the coachman and his fellow lackeys. Smiling ironically at her own shortsightedness, she left the needle where it had fallen and stalked deeper into the house, perhaps that gnomish creature had answers to give, hopefully of the non-obvious variety.

She stalked through the vast corridors of that great house, musing that one could easily house an army or two in all the empty rooms and still no one would feel the least bit crowded. Perhaps she had stumbled into one of those alternate realities like some child in the fairy stories, with a shudder she directed her thoughts to something less grim than stalking those halls forever alone. Yes, there! She was not alone, for the noise came again: the sound of honest laughter. She hiked up her skirts and was off like a hound after a fox, lest she lose her quarry, though Society would have blacklisted her forever and a day for such unseemly behavior. There they were, sitting in the kitchen like so many off duty servants after the master had gone to bed. One clutched a fiddle as if he might at any moment feel the need for a jig, while all guffawed and chuckled over some tale told by the lad closest to the fire. It was such a homely sight that Iris yearned with all her being to join in, for she had seen nothing like it since her marriage into Society, what seemed eons prior.

Finally one of the merry little company noticed Iris and motioned for the stranger to take a seat on the bench beside her. Iris smiled in gratitude and wasted not a moment, desperate for real human society as she never had been before. Said the lively girl beside whom she seated herself, while all eyes were focused curiously on the newcomer, each gaze filled to overflowing with joy and amusement, "finally tired of the Quilting Circle then?"

"Most certainly," said the repentant sewer with especial vim, much amusing her new companions, "I have never seen the like! Who are they?"

"Proper Society," said the lad by the fire, with a grim shake of his head, "to some folk, that's the only way to live, ever."

"That can hardly be called life," countered Miss Iris, "death is pleasant by comparison." Here she paused, wondering if she had said too much, but she was surrounded by nodding heads and saddened expressions at the grim plight of the sewing circle. "Can nothing be done for them?" queried she, somehow knowing that it was hopeless but still needing to ask.

"They wouldn't have it any other way," said the girl beside her, "they've chosen their own chains." She glanced significantly around the room, "as we all must."

Iris was not so silly as to ask about literal chains and fetters, knowing the girl was speaking in a metaphorical sense and probably a metaphysical one as well, and as her grasp of the metaphorical metaphysical was still very much elementary, she dared not reveal her ignorance to these enigmatic people gathered all about her, but they seemed to understand her plight, even if no words were spoken, and eagerly seemed to welcome her questions, no matter how ignorant or obvious they might seem to her, apparently here there was no such thing as a stupid question.

"Is this whole house a metaphor then?" asked she in growing astonishment.

The lad by the fire smiled enigmatically, "yes and no, milady."

"That was quite clarifying," giggled the girl beside Iris, and turning to her companion she added, "you'll understand more eventually."

"I'm quite a baby," smiled Iris wryly and the others joined in her amusement at her own ignorance. Thus began a merry evening, if time ever passed in its usual rhythms within those strange walls, and Iris soon lost herself in the jolly company of her fellows, a stark contrast to the prim and dour circle of quilters whom she had left in some far off corner of the house. So it was, eventually she felt she must be off again into the wide world, much refreshed and encouraged by the ever changing little company in the kitchen of that paradoxical house. She opened the door and there was her coach and four, ready to bear her whither she would, though only the coachman seemed to know exactly where or when that was. With an ironically eager smile, she closed the door behind her and climbed into the carriage, the house vanishing the moment the door closed, leaving only the changeless rainy dark all about them, but even that was left far behind as the coachman whipped up his team and they too vanished upon adventures unknown.

Was that strange house a metaphor for life or what came after or was life a metaphor for the house or was the house real and life a dream or the house a dream and life real or...this was worse than her rather vexing contemplations upon Things, gracious what was she to do? She couldn't even faint or have a proper fit as behooved a lady of her standing, what with death being less a bother than a cold had been previously, how was she to cope with such weighty matters of the mind? It was certainly a good thing she had read as widely and deeply as she was able, else she wouldn't even be able to wrap her mind around such ideas to the minimal extent that she had to up to this point.

Suddenly an idea occurred to her and she thought to get the coachman's attention, but it seemed he was already aware of her brilliant scheme or perhaps she had finally decided upon the course of action he had known she would finally decide upon from the first, ugh! When would she be able to think in a straight line once more rather than in such perplexing circles? Anyway, here she was, just in time for tea, and this time they would make a proper job of it, or so she hoped. The coach had stopped and she was handed out and the next moment it dashed off as if it were the fire wagon scenting smoke, but so used to these strange happenings was she becoming that she hardly noticed. Instead her full attention was on the Gentlemen and the splendid tea service that seemed to be awaiting her pleasure.

"Well met, my Lady," said the first, doffing his hat and bowing so very properly one might almost forget they were taking tea in the middle of the unruliest wildwood of which men were aware.

"Milady," said the other, pulling out a chair for the guest of honor, who was promptly seated, thus allowing for the gentlemen to do the same.

"Thank you for coming," said she.

"Quite delighted, certainly," said the First.

"We rarely have the chance to take such delightful refreshment, milady," grinned the Second.

"What troubles you, madam?" queried the First.

"Pretty much everything," sighed she.

"Certainly," grinned the Second, even more impishly if that were possible, little realizing how close he came to acquiring an intimate relationship with a tea cozy for his smugness.

But the lady refrained from such unseemly conduct and merely replied, "so you will not broach any of the secrets that currently trouble my mind?"

"That would be dreadfully unsporting, milady," said the First, feigning solemnity as best he could.

"Certainly a very ungentlemanly thing to do, madam," concurred the Second, his grin almost hidden under his attempt at a grave face.

"And that's why you are enjoying this so very much, perhaps?" said she archly, their amusement finally infecting her.

"Would you accuse us of finding pleasure in a lady's discomfort?" said the First, almost scandalized.

"By that definition we are cads indeed!" chuckled the Second, "But fear not, you'll know quite enough to satisfy even your ravenous curiosity much sooner than you think; that pleasure belongs solely to another."

"I see," said she, not satisfied in the least. But besides for that little fiasco she quite enjoyed their brief repast, though she did have to marvel at the extraordinary amount of tea she had consumed since her adventures had begun, and this from a former society matron who spent so much time in social settings that she very well might have tea rather than blood gushing through her veins. She broached this unsettling thought to the Gentlemen as they prepared to part company.

They exchanged a knowing grin, the first saying in vast amusement, "it is merely a sign of the times in which we currently serve, milady, for it is considered the only proper way to interact with our fellow men in this day and age. In other places or times, the traditions are quite different."

"I suppose I should be grateful that bear wrestling is not the social occupation of choice," said she with a laugh.

"It would certainly make such occasions far more interesting," smiled the second Gentleman, "but certainly less conducive to effective communication."

"At this point, I'd welcome a little more excitement," sighed she in parting, "I am not sure how many more adventures I can survive within the confines of countless stuffy drawing rooms." Then she recalled her recent experience with the minotaur and grinned sheepishly, as her companions did their best to stifle what otherwise might have been uproarious laughter.

Once he had regained his composure, the First said, "it seems one can have an adventure even in a drawing room. Farewell, milady!" With that, they both doffed their hats in parting and vanished into the tangled shrubbery as easily as rabbits into a hedge, but she hardly had time to ponder what next was to be done, for there, seemingly appearing out of thin air, stood her carriage, waiting to carry her off upon adventures unknown. She could not help but grin at this, even if it meant an eternity haunting drawing rooms, for she was no common lady and her visits could in nowise be dull, not in the least, else she wouldn't be the one making them. Let the Gentlemen and Great Aunts keep their secrets, she had always loved a good riddle and this was shaping up to be the grandest of them all!

She mused upon this strange revelation as the carriage rattled along en route to who knew where. So she drank scads of tea and wore the Second Best Dress and traveled in a horse drawn vehicle simply because it was the way things were done at this particular place and time...this tickled her fancy, a thing which years of training to the contrary and determined resistance had yet to cure her of, that great societal sin of having an imagination, and now that she was so far beyond the Standards and the disapprobation of Society, she let it run wild with all the gusto of a child of six. Was there any limit to what mankind might do, if given the right circumstances? How variable throughout time and place were such things as fashion, transportation, manners, customs, and dietary habits? But amid the swirling maelstrom of differences between cultures and even within a culture at differing times, one thing remained unchanged: man himself.

While the fashions of the day, language, and technology might change dramatically, the creature called man was very much the same from one Age to the next, from one Place to another. No matter how much the accouterments of the trade might change over time and place, the very core of her missions would remain ever and anon the same, for humanity did not change on the inside, he merely changed his clothes, language, or fads from time to time or place to place. And no matter how fanciful her imaginings, her mind always settled back contentedly upon that fact like a bird upon a favorite perch, for in the tumultuous world about her, no matter the chaos or confusion or changes on the outside, at heart, her mission and those she was sent to help would always be the same, an immovable rock amidst a swirling flood of possibilities, a root of sanity in a seemingly mad world.

"Here we are," said she to no one in particular, as she stepped down from the carriage that seemed to vanish from sight the moment she had alighted, but she hardly noticed now as she glanced eagerly about, searching for some clue as to her next assignment. But there was nothing to see and no one to hear, for she stood alone upon what looked to be a rarely used road on the way to nowhere. All about her the wind sighed through the sparse grass while strange birds uttered their lonely cries, fit to break the hearts of the weathered rocks that stood about in silent vigil over the endless moor.

"This certainly isn't a fashionable drawing room," mused she to one of the amorphous stone soldiers that dotted the plain, though excellent listeners, they were in general very poor conversationalists. She continued on her way, wise enough not to wait for a reply, wondering where she was and if she had not wandered into one of those particularly gloomy novels that were becoming quite popular among a certain segment of the female social elite at that time. My Lady Iris had never liked such tales and rather fervently wished never to be in one, but this seemed the perfect setting for just such a story. Turning her mind to happier alternatives, she thought that perhaps there might be dragons or an enchanted castle or an imprisoned maiden or a villainous band of rogues to be routed somewhere along this forgotten highway, certainly giants must live somewhere hereabouts or at least a gang of vagrant trolls might occasionally traipse through the neighborhood.

She walked on for countless miles with only the solitary rocks and the wild music of the birds for company, that and the ever present soughing of the wind among the heather. What a desolate place, there wasn't even a shepherd's cot, as all the stories said there was like to be, but the lands were so unpeopled in those days that there were far more welcoming places in which even a shepherd might make a living, for even they had standards, even if my Lady's Coachman hadn't any. Perhaps when civilization prospered and drove all the sheep out of the suburbs and off into the unpeopled hills, and unpeopled for very good reason, only then could a resulting migration of shepherds be expected, until then, the lark and the curlew had none to listen to their sonatas but one wayward noble lady seemingly bereft of all sense, common or otherwise. But she didn't mind, it was rather a pleasant walk after all the random excitement of late, not that she wanted to spend an eternity upon such an excursion, but for a few hours at least it was quite pleasant.

But she doubted that her presence here was solely for her mental health, she might be mistaken but she highly doubted this pleasant little walking tour could go on much longer without stumbling into the midst of an adventure, perhaps she was unwittingly in the middle of one at this very moment? At least there was something up ahead besides for rocks and courting fowl amid an endless sea of heather. She had always liked the idea of heather, at least in the tales she had read wherein it was sometimes mentioned, it always seemed to bespeak far off, wild and lonely places that she would never see, at least if the Standards had anything to say in the matter, which happily they didn't, but after traipsing through a veritable ocean of the stuff, she was rather glad to see a large lake and even happier to realize it was not an aquatic species, at least to her knowledge.

"Oof!" grunted our lady, in very un-Standard verbiage, as a gigantic book suddenly made itself comfortable in her arms, as if it were an enormous dog, thinking itself a puppy still, and leaping joyously into its master's embrace, for in truth it was about the size of a rather large dog, but thankfully it either lacked a tongue or had no interest in licking faces, at least at this particular moment. After a moment's consideration, the book immediately shrank to the size of a newly weaned kitten, a far more manageable size for one on a walking tour, for which Iris was quite grateful. She quickly read a detailed article on heather and its allies, confirming her suspicions, and then closed the book that she might discover the title, hoping it wasn't a treatise dedicated entirely to that extensive but rather tiresome branch of biology solely devoted to plants. She was delighted to discover that it was dedicated to, well, everything.

"The Natural History of Everything," mused she to herself, "how droll! Now if only there was a companion volume dedicated to..."

Her words were lost to history as she tripped over an equally large volume that had suddenly appeared under her very feet. As she heaved herself up, not forgetting Volume II as she righted herself, she could not help but grin ear to ear in discovering, "The Supernatural History of Everything," laughed she to herself, "how perfectly splendid. Perhaps I can finally find some answers." But she was to be disappointed, for as it was a history, natural or otherwise, of quite literally everything, she had to know what she was looking for before she could find any useful information, much like her query into the aquatic nature or lack thereof of this particular species of heather. She could read on for countless ages about rocks and stars and things of which mortal men are quite ignorant but nothing of interest was like to be culled from the extensive pages. She had all the answers but she as yet did not know the questions.

"Drat!" sighed she, "here I am with ultimate knowledge but nothing for which to use it." Knowing they were at the moment unnecessary, the books each shrunk to the size of a matchbook and she deftly secreted them away within one of the handy pockets her current ensemble boasted, making it very un-Standard garb indeed, for socially prescribed fashions were never pretty, comfortable, and certainly not convenient! She could not help but smile to know she carried Ultimate Knowledge in her pocket. Now to find a question or two to put it to good use!

She had come to the edge of the lake and discovered that there was a vehicle drawn up beside it with several questionable looking personages standing about, apparently having a bit of a squabble, dreading tourists and picnickers, she was quite delighted to discover this was far from the case. It seemed to be a classic case of the evil stepmother ague, and even better was that this particular stepmother happened to be of the magical sort. Her walking tour all but forgotten, Iris paused on the verge of the little circle to discover what the fuss was about; the group contained the aforementioned stepmother, several loutish looking fellows, and four wide-eyed children. The stepmother was quite put out that the hapless vagrants whom she had waylaid would not do the very gentlemanly thing and help a woman so obviously in distress, even if her conundrum was how best to murder the beastly children who accompanied her.

"But we aren't gentlemen, madam," said the first of the three rather scandalized non-gentlemen.

"She ain't exactly a lady," sniggered the second to the third, he hoped quietly enough to not be heard, but even Iris, standing at a distance, heard him quite plainly.

"We wouldn't drown a kitten," persisted the first, trying valiantly to hide his amusement at his companion's remark, thus showing that he was far more a gentleman than many of that persuasion.

"Then what am I to do with them?" groused she, "I must dispose of them somehow, the Standards are very blunt on that point and boarding schools haven't been invented yet! I can certainly make it worth your while, by the looks of it, you can certainly use the extra income and you've likely done the like or worse before."

"Just because a man don't dress in the latest fashions, mam, don't make him a killer or thief," grated the third.

The second grinned and added, this time not trying to hide his remark, "you don't look much like a law abiding citizen yourself, lady!"

"Why you unscrupulous dog!" snarled she, "I'll turn you into proper dandy!"

"Anything but that, miss!" pleaded the first, "he didn't mean no harm, honest! And if you are into that sort of thing, well, there's your answer right there!" With this, each of the three yanked a greasy forelock, tipped his grubby hat, and ambled down the road as fast as one can slouch. She did not pursue or follow through with her threat, for the man's parting words had suddenly struck her as sheer brilliance, and reminded her that she must be brilliant indeed to have thought of it in the first place, which elicited a smile both vengeful and proud, a horrid sight indeed. She turned to face the as yet silent and even more wide-eyed children, only to find a nearly Standard socialite of some standing, it was the pockets that ruined the effect, instead.

She glanced around in confusion, her mood even more foul than with the comments of those louts, what with losing her ultimate moment of triumph and all: where were the children, her impending glory, and the greatest tragedy yet to be set upon paper? She saw a carriage, not her own, galloping off round the bend at full speed and had little doubt that her intended victims were within. My Lady could not help but smile at the coachman and his timing, in whisking those imperiled little ones off to safety, even if it did ruin what should have been a rollicking good fairy tale, and a tragedy at that! What did this non-Standard Lady have against good literature in general and stepmothers in particular? Well, thought the villainess, if she couldn't take it out on the kids, an interfering busybody of a proper lady was the next best thing!

Iris turned from watching the carriage rattle off to look at the thoroughly thwarted sorceress and see what would come of the matter, perhaps she had not totally destroyed the tale, there was always room for a rewrite or another edit, certainly, for she truly did hate the thought that she could singlehandedly destroy one of the great literary classics of all time! She was not disappointed, for the enchantress had rolled up her sleeves and was practicing a few rather complicated incantations under her tongue, something of a lingual gymnastics as it were, if you said the wrong thing you might accidentally banish the victim to a pleasant tourist resort rather than turning them into a toad, though with the crowds, heat, and exorbitant prices, becoming a toad might be considered the kinder fate.

Miss Iris merely smiled, wondering what could be the result when combined with her rather interesting nature, but the witch's own driver could stand no more and quickly urged his horses to be found elsewhere as fast as possible for creatures of equine descent, the infuriated stepmother little noticed anything besides her own magical exhibition. The aggrieved magician worked her wonders, most of it was for show of course, and our lady of non-standard garb was no little impressed, at least until the fireworks were over and still she stood there wondering what was going to happen. The witch was in nowise so disappointed, she seemed to think her little incantation and mixed martial arts combination had had rather spectacular results, not to mention being a work of art in and of itself.

"That's it?" quoth the victim in scandalized tones.

The stepmother, bereft of her cubs, could not help but grin, "you are disappointed?"

"Well, yes," said my lady in feathers, "it was quite pretty, certainly, but what was the result? Here I stand just as blithely as ever!"

"You do not feel strange in the least?" squawked the astonished sorceress.

"Nothing odd relative to how things have been of late, no," said the anserine lady, who in very truth didn't think anything was amiss, what with rampaging Great Aunts and Fairy Queens and tea in the bush and minotaurs working second jobs at seedy inns and everything else that had happened in the last week or two. By comparison all else might be considered normal!

Sighed the witch, "yet again you have ruined my moment of triumph, you great, silly duck! That's twice in ten minutes!"

"Who are you calling a duck?" hissed the irate swan, at this Iris was rather confounded to discover that the witch's magic had seemingly worked even with her more interesting nature, that she was unwittingly exhibiting political opinions peculiar to a species not her own, and that she had not noticed the change in the first place. This sudden confusion at least mollified the witch's utterly trampled sensibilities enough to prevent her from throwing in her wand entirely and going into something far more nefarious and reprehensible, like public office.

"Well, I'm off," said the witch, "I still have a book to write, posterity you know. Have a lovely time, I'm sure it will wear off in 900 years or so. You don't mind if I change a few of the details though, to how the spell should have worked! Wretched children, I despise fiction but there's nothing for it..." Her voice trailed off as she sauntered off in the direction the louts had ambled, Iris idly wondering if she would catch them up and what would happen if she did.

"This is rather ridiculous," grumped the swan to herself, "I now have a question but what has come of my books?" A sudden thought occurred to her and she began rummaging amongst her plumage with her bill until she produced both volumes, which happily grew to a readable size once they flopped open on the ground. She really had no interest in the article on swans and their kin, though she did unconsciously hiss at so close a spatial relation of the swan article to those outlining not only geese, the gossiping bourgeois, but ducks as well, no better than gabbling fishwives! Ignoring these strange feelings of revulsion, that had nothing whatsoever to do with anything but avian racial prejudices and class warfare, certainly an obscure branch of study, though the book of Natural History seemed replete with knowledge on that subject as well, as it so eagerly flipped to exhibit, but alas, its enthusiasm was quite in vain, for the birded lady had her bill buried busily in the other tome.

"This doesn't help at all," moaned she to no one in particular, "I can't determine the effects or cures of a certain spell upon a certain individual if I don't know how to classify the individual."

The book of Natural History was whining miserably off to the side, feeling equally helpless and no little disappointed in not being consulted, but there was nothing to be done, this was a matter quite beyond its province of knowledge. With a resigned whimper, it shrank to the size of a gnat and lost itself amidst the distraught lady's feathers once more. "Humph!" grunted she, "I can read all about the effects of this particular hex on giants and gnomes and elves and manticores and men and minotaurs...but none of it will avail me if I don't know my own particular situation. It is all quite vexing! Where is Aunt Mildred when I need her?"

As if summoned, perhaps she was, the Lady Iris's own particular equipage came rattling to a stop before the flummoxed fowl and out paraded none other than dear Aunt Mildred, who said in her perfunctory manner, "quit gawping you silly goose and get in the carriage." At the outraged hiss that involuntarily escaped from the enraged fowl, she added with a wry smile, "forget your bird-brained politics for a minute and let's be on our way, lest we be late for a very important outing."

Iris had been a lady for too long to let such a threat go unheeded and hastily waddled into the carriage. As they rattled off, Aunt Mildred smiled in sheer delight, "you do know, duckling, that you don't have to remain in that ridiculous guise any longer than your quest requires?"

The swan hissed once more in vexation, but this time it was quite intentional and not due to inter-anserine politics, but rather for the overly exuberant delight shown by a certain unnamed Great Aunt without the least exertion shown in controlling her mirth; it was quite unladylike and far from genteel, especially when that lady was a swan, perhaps the most proper lady in the entire avian world! But her annoyance lasted a mere moment, for what the elder lady revealed was quite intriguing to even such a bird-brained creature as Miss Iris was at that particular moment, and without even bothering to reference either of her rather remarkable books, she merely concentrated and was quite pleased to discover that said Great Aunt was quite correct in her postulations.

Said the now unfeathered lady, "that is quite a useful skill."

"Indeed," said that Greatest of Aunts, "you will discover quite a plethora of such talents, my dear."

"Could you not just give me a list?" queried the girl quite hopelessly, already knowing what the answer would entail.

"It would be quite unsporting, me dear," chastised the Aunt.

"And a proper lady is always sporting," sighed Miss Iris, as my Lady Mildred did her best to politely suppress a vastly amused smile.

Continued the Aunt, as if her glee had never been, "especially when one is afield with a proper hunting party."

"This sounds interesting," said Lady Iris, perking up immediately.

"It always is, dearie," smiled Mildred in such a feline manner that Iris wished quite fervently for a dog.

"But I doubt," said the junior lady, "that we will be riding off in pursuit of a fox."

"Quite," said Miss Mildred, "the Fairy Queen would not bestir herself for such meager prey."

"Not her again!" sighed Iris, "I had hoped I had left all that politicking behind with my former life."

"You must escape this mortal world entirely for that dear," said Mildred rather blandly, "while we may have no use for it personally, those with whom we must interact are still quite fond of it, especially those of noble descent or fairykind."

"And the Queen is both," said Iris with a grim shake of her head, but smiling wryly as she continued, "and she is certainly a very worthy mother-in-law."

"Textbook," agreed Miss Mildred.

"I don't have to ride sidesaddle do I?" queried the younger.

"My dear," smiled the elder in formidable glee, "you don't have to do anything so atrociously Standard unless you want to."

"Excellent," said Iris, with a smile to match her mentor's own, "I think this will be a rather grand outing after all!"

Riding to Hounds

In precisely the perfect amount of time, the journey was completed and the ladies descended from the vehicle, resplendent in their hunting finery. They found themselves in a clearing of that bizarre wood wherein all places looked exactly the same and in which even all times seemed to be quite alike. The coach vanished but a pair of servants met them, holding the heads of the finest hunters my Lady Iris had ever beheld, though the beasts were still as statues, never stamping at flies, pawing in impatience, or idly reaching for some leaf or blade of grass. The servants were likewise impervious to all that passed around them, never blinking, glancing about impatiently, without any itching, twitching, or shifting weight nervously from one leg to the other, causing Iris to surmise that all four of the creatures were nothing more than mindless phantoms, much like her coach and entourage must certainly be. There was a glimmer of knowing amusement in the eyes of that rascally Aunt but nothing else to betray her vast mirth at the continuing discoveries of her protégé.

The moment the coach vanished and they approached their waiting mounts, the hitherto silent clearing was suddenly alive with color, excitement, noise, and energy as the rest of the hunting party appeared. Iris recognized the Fairy Queen immediately as they exchanged polite smiles that never touched their eyes. Our Lady exchanged a polite nod with an exquisitely pale woman in rather outlandish clothes, even for a panoply containing the very Queen of the Fairies, who studied Miss Iris and the aforementioned Aunt with a quizzically wrinkled brow for a moment, before nodding to herself and muttering, "the Bloodless," under her breath, but not too quietly for the strange ears of her perplexing companions to pick up.

"A Vampiress," said Aunt Mildred in explanation.

There were several other ladies of varying species and races, each bedecked in whatever was considered the height of hunting fashion amongst their particular people, much of which was quite incomprehensible to our heroine but seemed to satisfy the person in question, much as a wealthy dowager is allowed to content herself with her own fashionable whims, regardless of what Society as a whole considers right and proper for all and sundry, so Miss Iris did the very proper thing and let it all pass without question or comment. Soon the hounds and various servants arrived to begin the pursuit in earnest, and amongst that noisy throng was yet another lady, this one frolicking amongst the varied dogs and dog-like beasts assembled for the hunt. "A Werewolf," remarked Miss Mildred in explanation, "and the final addition to our party. You'll be off soon."

"You aren't coming with me?!" exclaimed the girl.

Mildred smiled, "we chaperones aren't allowed on such excursions, dear, it wouldn't be proper, or fair, as you can see there is only one huntress representing each particular kindred or race."

"Quite," agreed the nonplussed hunter, for there was nothing else to say, for at that very moment a horn blew somewhere amongst the throng and they galloped off into the perpetual mist and gloom of the forest, Miss Iris musing that she never did get around to asking what exactly their particular quarry was, but knowing that what or whomever it might be, she'd know what she must when she must. The whole party scattered like a flushed covey of grouse into pairs and trios as the horn sounded.

Miss Iris had no time for further introspection as she found herself galloping madly beside a widely grinning female of the Vampire persuasion, said the pale lady with a great laugh, "so you've slipped the fetters of your spinster chaperone have you?"

"Something like that," smiled Iris in spite of herself, "she said it wasn't quite the thing for her to accompany me on this little foray. This is my first hunt, so please forgive my ignorance, but what are we pursuing?"

"Trespassers," said the pallid maid in ravenous glee, "there is at least one mortal abroad in the Wood and his blood rightfully belongs to the first to catch him."

Miss Iris could not help but muse aloud, "I suppose it is the sporting way to go about it."

"Quite," said that predator of mortals, "it even gives the wretched creature a chance, albeit a slim one, at survival."

"Hence my presence," grinned Iris in mounting excitement.

"Too little, too late," hissed the Vampire in triumph, as she reined in her beast quite suddenly as she spotted their prey.

Iris drew rein just as quickly as her companion but did not bother sliding from her saddle, for though the other hunter was quite taken with the man glancing about curiously at the pair of flamboyant creatures that had appeared quite literally out of thin air before him, Iris knew he was not her quarry. The Vampiress lost no time in sidling up to the fellow, the same that had offered the suddenly homeless Iris a less than estimable establishment, and agreeing quite happily to accompany the fellow wherever he had a wish to go. He had eyes and ears only for this deathly pale but otherwise thoroughly captivating lady and had lost all concern for his original quarry, the very Iris who sat her horse indifferently before him. His master's business had gone quite sour after the presumed star of their consorts had failed to appear for her much anticipated debut. Hoping to rectify matters, the flunky had volunteered to search the haunted wood for her. Instead, he came across quite an agreeable alternative and left hand in hand with the very pleased Vampire.

Iris mused stoically that the poor chap must have read all the wrong books, for even she, who knew so little of Things, knew you never invited a Vampire into your house, but she also knew that his story was not hers, at least at this particular moment, so off she galloped in hot pursuit of her own plot and left the quite excited pair to theirs, whatever it might be. She had not gone far when she found it, and so surprising was this particular plot twist that it quite unhorsed her, which is saying something for a horse which never bucked, spooked, or shied.

"Squiff?!" said she, righting herself and her propriety at the same time.

"Iris?" replied her eldest brother in hopeful question, as if he did not quite know what to expect in this strangest of all woodlands.

"What are you doing here?" gasped she.

"Looking for you," said he, half embarrassment, half excitement.

"Quite against the Standards?" said she in astonishment.

"I have about as much use for them as you do," said he with that happy, though exasperated grin she remembered from their youth.

"Now that you've found me, what are you going to do?" queried she.

"I'm not exactly sure," said he in perplexity, never having thought the matter through past actually finding his sister.

"You really shouldn't be here," said Iris, suddenly tensing, feeling as if things were about to go rather badly.

"Look who's lecturing whom!" teased he, only to drop with a groan as an arrow took him in the back.

"Ah!" said the Fairy Queen in satisfaction, "thank you for distracting the wretched creature so I could get a clean shot; it seems we are even, my dear!" With that, she turned her horse sharply about and vanished into the gloom of the Wood while Iris rushed to the side of her fallen brother.

She turned him over gently, relieved to see he was still alive, if only temporarily. Grated he through the pain and whelming darkness, "why do you always have to be right?"

She could not help but smile pathetically at this last, desperate attempt at a joke, but there was no time for further pathos as Great Aunt Mildred pushed her way between them, as was ever her wont, and began wheedling the stricken man about his plans for the immediate future and for all eternity. The scene would have been quite comic if it hadn't been so tragic, but suddenly all the tragedy was extirpated from the scene, leaving only pure Joy, and a moment after that, there was nothing at all in that clearing that was not to be found in every other such clearing in all that weird and wild wood, if there was more than one.

"Will you please tell me what is going on?" asked Iris of Mildred for what seemed the thousandth time, but she merely smiled like the grimalkin she was. "What are we to do with him then?" asked the astonished girl, pointing at her snoring brother as he slouched in the opposite seat of her equipage; she was flustered enough with the situation that she had lost all semblance of even feigned composure and at this point she no longer cared who noticed.

"We'll dump him off where and when he's needed and go on with our own duties, child," said the lady in that impeccable style of primness that only a Great Aunt can master.

"At least I'm not the only one to be abandoned on the proverbial doorstep!" smiled Iris at last, her humor finally catching up with the speeding conveyance housing the three fugitives.

"Gracious child!," repined the Aunt with a perfect flutter of her eyes and a certain trill in her voice quite peculiar to her species, "you've never been alone, not for a single moment! Do you think all of this has happened quite by happenstance or accident?"

"Certainly not," said Iris, all calm dignity, "I merely meant that it would be nice to have some idea of what is going on."

"You want an apprenticeship," grinned the Mildredest of Mildreds, "but that isn't how things work in this particular profession."

"I suppose not," sighed Miss Iris resignedly, "whatever adventures you'd have on your apprenticeship would hardly be similar to anything else you'd ever do so you might as well not have one."

"Now we are making progress!" said my lady the Aunt in grim satisfaction, eyeing their snoozing companion skeptically, she added, "we can only hope he is a far quicker study?" Iris could only grin in glorious silence, for once relishing the upper hand. "Humph," grunted the lady in discontent, if a lady can be accused of such a ribald gesture, "I do not appreciate having the tables turned so soon upon me, child. It is quite irritating." She smiled ruefully, "and I suppose that is the whole point. Very well, it is of no matter, time will prove the truth of the matter and we needs-must only be patient."

Putting away her triumphant grin and taking out her 'Supernatural History,' leaving the poor 'Natural History' to molder alone and forgotten in some pocket or other, she finally had a question to put to the book and eagerly sought the entry for 'bloodless.' After a brief account detailing Vampiric culture, especially its obsession with blood, it led into this definition: 'bloodless:' a slang term peculiar to Vampires used to describe any race or person lacking what is to them a vital fluid, particularly those of human descent in a post-mortal state.

Well that was interesting, now what was a 'post-mortal state.' The book was only too happy to comply while its counterpoint sulked in useless abandonment somewhere about her person. The entry was hardly more helpful than the previous one, saying only what the term already so boldly stated: 'the state of being beyond mortality.' With a sigh she closed the book with a thump and gave the obviously amused Mildred a feigned glare of annoyance, "did you write this book, milady? It seems as circuitous and obfuscated as anything I have encountered in our adventures together!"

"I am merely a student, dearie," said she without the tiniest hint of a smile. "It's all quite confusing at the first, but so too is the world to a baby, but soon enough they are running, laughing, and falling down as if it had always been so. You'll figure it out." At this she didn't bother to hide her amusement, "just think how much fun it will be to watch your elder brother flounder around as if he is now the baby of the family."

"Indeed!" said Iris, perking up quite agreeably, "I am beginning to understand why you are so reluctant to tell me anything at all!"

The coach stopped, ending all idle prattle for the immediate future, and of one accord, the two ladies hefted the sleeping gentleman out of the carriage and quite literally did leave him on the doorstep, where an astonished servant found him passed out not a few minutes later. The ladies watched from the cover of the carriage, conveniently parked across the street, and nodded in amused satisfaction before the coach rattled off upon their next errand. Miss Iris quipped as they departed, "how amusing indeed."

It was quite droll, at least to his sister, but to Squiff it was quite another matter entirely, for you see, he was not comfortably ensconced in a horse drawn vehicle, galloping off on another adventure with an impish Great Aunt who would never answer any of your questions, he didn't even have anyone to ask questions of at all, whether they would be answered or not. And as far as he could tell, he was in a strange house full to overflowing with strangers, and none of them were paying him any heed at all. He couldn't imagine how he had ended up here, wherever here was, or why. He had thought he had gone off to rescue his sister from Things only to have the adventure take an immediate turn into disaster.

He lay sprawled on a divan against a far wall and none of the many servants or gentlemen that made up the entirety of the rather heavy foot traffic through that particular corridor took the least notice of him; apparently he was someone else's problem and not to be bothered about by anyone else. This gave him plenty of time to think and observe and think some more, as there really wasn't all that much to see, save the passers-by and a few fashionable oddments of furniture scattered in out of the way corners, much like his sofa. If he had set out after his sister, he was pretty sure he should be dead, and if so, this was a very strange afterlife indeed. If not, where was he and why?

Squiff had always been a bit of an oddity, at least as far as the menfolk of his own day and age saw things. He really didn't give a fig about the Standards, and he tried scrupulously to avoid them when he could, which was about impossible in a society so thoroughly saturated by their tenets in custom, taste, morals, behavior, and politics, but he did the best he could. He was even more fond of reading than his sister, and as he was a man, it was considered a far less dangerous fascination, assuming he read the Right Books and Magazine, but he had no interest in fashion, politics, culture, and the Standard Sports of the day. Instead, he went out of his way to find outlandish and forgotten books, many of foreign make, that told of Things and the world beyond the Walls of the city.

He was not ideal husband material, at least as far as the Standards were concerned, and there were very few proper ladies who would put up with his eccentricities, his little sister being one. So when it came to his attention that she had been abandoned by all proper Society, including their parents, he decided to take action and put all his extensive knowledge to use in rescuing her from not only Things, but perhaps more so from the Standards themselves. So how was it he ended up draped over a couch in a strange sitting area amid so many busy strangers?

Whatever it was, it was certainly a mystery and an adventure at that, so he eagerly righted himself, made sure his clothes were as tidy as he could make them, and boldly stood forth to the great interest of nobody at all. Everyone kept their eyes focused forward or downward and none paid him any heed whatsoever, as if his business was none of theirs and they expected him to return the discretion in kind. So it was he ambled off in a random direction, hoping to find an answer, or at least someone to whom he might put a question or even a fellow being with whom he might exchange the briefest of salutary greetings, for he was beginning to feel quite eerily alone amidst the staunchly indifferent crowd.

He quite thoroughly embarrassed and inconvenienced several of the servants, whom he finally accosted in desperation during his aimless wanderings, knowing he broke countless unknown precepts, he was forced to ask for directions or wander lost forever in those labyrinthine halls. But finally, after much shock and no little grumbling, he was at last shown into the front office and waiting area of the great house in whose bowels he had inadvertently lost himself.

"May I help you sir?" said the scandalized young gentleman sitting behind the desk, taking in the stranger's simple and quite unfashionable garb and his entrance from the back of the house rather than through the front door.

"I hope so," said Squiff in quite un-Standard eagerness, "where am I?"

"I beg your pardon sir?" queried the now thoroughly scandalized man behind the desk.

"I just woke up on a sofa somewhere in the back of this vast maze of a house and I don't know how I got there or where I am or why," said Squiff, as if it were quite an ordinary everyday muddle in which he currently found himself.

"I'm afraid I can only tell you the where, sir," said the man.

As he did so, Squiff's eyebrows tried desperately to lose themselves in his hairline, said he in astonishment, "oh, that's quite interesting, really, I had no idea..."

"Now would you be so kind as to take yourself and your conundrums elsewhither, sir or shall I have you forcibly removed from the premises?" asked the now very menacing person behind the desk, Squiff much preferred the scandalized version of this particular gentleman.

As he was about to make a hasty, and very voluntary, retreat, a curious female voice with the lilting accents of the uppermost of the upper crust countermanded his intentions, "I will deal with this personally, Charles, please don't trouble yourself further upon this matter."

"Yes, madam," said the man, his offended sense of propriety immediately soothed by his mistress' interference, but somewhat disappointed that he would not get to see the troublesome fellow removed by brute force. Squiff shrugged, his curiosity easily overwhelming his wish to leave the premises and stand about idly in the street, and gave the requisite Standard greeting before following the oddly dressed woman back into the depths of the immense house.

They disappeared into what must be her office, wherein she rounded upon him the moment the door was securely shut, "who are you? What do you want? How did you get in?"

"I have no idea, madam," said Squiff quite truthfully, "this has been the most peculiar day of my life, indeed, I was hoping you could help me."

"Well you are certainly useless," said she in obvious disappointment, "but here you are, just another clueless fop among the nameless masses of equal disinterest."

"I should hope not, milady," said he in disgust, "I vehemently protest your dismissal of me as uninteresting as everyone else in this vapid city."

This piqued her interest immediately, said she "perhaps I was too hasty, sir, but come, tell me why you are any different than the rest of these witless mortal cattle?"

"To begin with," said he thoughtfully, "I do not abide by the Standards unless I absolutely must."

"A rebel," grinned she, revealing some very sharp and pointy teeth, causing Squiff to take a step back in surprise. Her grin deepened nigh unto malice itself, "I see you have discovered I am no typical lady either. Now, Man, what will you do with a Thing within your very Walls?"

"See that you get up to no mischief," countered Squiff, strangely unintimidated by this utmost of predators not an arm's length from him.

"Hah!" scorned she, "what power have you to curb my actions, Man?"

"I haven't the foggiest," countered he, "but I will stop you nonetheless."

"It has been a very long time since I had a worthy foe," said she in grim anticipation, "I hope you will not disappoint me."

"Your hopes and aspirations aside, madam," continued Squiff in a very businesslike manner, "I hope you have the proper permissions to linger about upon these premises?"

"Certainly," hissed she, "I may not cling to your pathetic Standards, but when it comes to my own, I am quite thorough."

"Excellent, most excellent," nodded Squiff, "now what are you planning to do with your new venture?"

"What are you, an undercover representative of some zoning commission?" hissed she.

"Come madam, be blunt," said he with all the exasperating patience of a bored bureaucrat.

"I have rightfully claimed a foothold in this wretched city and from here I plan to spread my influence to all within its walls and then to every village, city, and nation in the world," triumphed she.

"Quite ambitious, milady, certainly, but I'm afraid you can't extend your influence beyond this house," countered he, "at least unless you want to go door to door and plan on getting an invitation from quite literally everyone on the planet."

"It may take an eternity," snarled she, "but what is that to me?"

"To you, certainly nothing, but every time the owner of a particular domicile moves, dies, or the family make-up shifts significantly, you'll have to start all over again."

"You mortals are so pathetically short-lived and far too mobile," groused she.
He shrugged, "it is the way of the world madam, one must either adapt or become obsolete."

"But as you thwarted your Standards, perhaps I ought to break mine!" said she exuberantly.

"The Standards of this particular city, madam, are just that: the precepts of men," said he with a grim shake of his head, "the rules by which your kind are governed were not set down by your own folk but rather stem from a higher authority. You may break them but there are certainly consequences."

"Drat," sighed she, "so much for world conquest. But I may run this little business with impunity, may not I?"

"That is solely between you and the proprietor, madam," said he in some disgust, "good day."

She did not return the farewell but neither did she try to forcibly stop his exit, a thing never before done in the whole History of Vampires: a man leaving their presence of his own accord. He walked right out the front door as jauntily as a school boy leaving his own house and just as carefree. He stopped a few paces from the non-descript exterior of the house on an equally unremarkable street and scratched his head in confusion, had he just stood toe to toe with a Thing and bandied words like the sternest of all bureaucrats? He had! What was worse was he seemed to be seeing Things everywhere now; on this street alone he could see a real live gargoyle, seated next to a couple of cheap stone imitations, eyeing up the passersby with interest while a troop of gnomish creatures zipped through the heavy traffic with all the aplomb of a pack of street urchins. Just another day in the life of a...a what? He didn't know what exactly his new occupational title was but it was certain to be intriguing indeed!

He thought to hail a cab, but rather a very stylish but unmarked equipage pulled up immediately beside him. With a shrug and an awkward smile, he waited for the wonders that seemingly never ceased. An old lady stepped out of the vehicle, he'd wager her name was Aunt Mildred or something equally proper and detestable, but she paid him no heed, rather she seemed to be lecturing whomever the carriage yet contained, in that grating voice peculiar to Great Aunts and Queens, said she in parting, "off with you girl! None of your silly questions, just be off and about your business."

She sailed past the rather astonished young man without so much as a grimace of distaste, quite strange in a lady of her station to a man of his, but inwardly she was smirking like the old cat she was. He followed her with his rather puzzled gaze for a moment before remembering his own unique situation; he returned his attention to the vehicle and its remaining occupant, as stylish and unremarkable as her carriage, but she was not roundly ignoring him, her glorious smile made him stare at his feet, blush, and stammer incoherently. At which she could only sigh and say in exasperation, "just get in Squiff."

Only one person chastised him like that and it was a sure cure to his acute case of abashedness, his brow furrowed in question as he looked his sister full in the face, finally recognizing her familiar features amid all the peculiar surroundings and circumstances he had endured of late. With a shrug and that genial smile, he hopped in and the coach rattled off about its business, whatever it be. Said he rather wanly, delighted to see his sister but thoroughly puzzled by the enigmas in which he was enmeshed, "this has been quite the strangest day of my life!"

"I'm sure it has, dear," said she with an empathetic smile, patting his knee encouragingly, but she soon grimaced in exasperation, "and that dreadful Aunt Mildred won't tell us a thing about it!"

He sat up and grinned, "I knew it, I did!" At her quizzical look he added, "that old grimalkin you left on the curb, I just knew her name had to be Aunt Mildred!"

"What else could it be?" sighed Iris, "But that is about the only thing that makes sense or is as it appears of late."

"So you can't enlighten me either," said he, slumping back against the cushions.

"I've had a few very strange adventures," said she, "but still have little idea what is going on, but I hope this interview will answer a few of our millions of questions."

"Interview?" asked he, suddenly on edge.

"Yes," said she, "apparently all new recruits have to go through it, but that Auntiest of Aunts wouldn't say with whom or what, she would only smile in such a manner as to suggest our doom was imminent!"

"I just stood toe to toe with a vampire!" said he in wonder.

"I trounced a minotaur in the Best Parlor," grinned she, "not to mention dealings with Fairy Queens, evil stepmothers, and a quilting circle worse than death."

"What would our parents say?" mused he.

"I'll never know," sighed she.

"I'm sorry," said he sadly, "I came as soon as I heard, but you had already vanished." He glanced significantly about at their current, cramped surroundings, if quite fine in material and manufacture, "though you don't seem to be doing too bad for yourself in any case."

"This?" grinned she, "I haven't a thing to do with it. Things just seem to happen or appear when they must. I don't even know where that phantom of a coachman is taking us!"

"To the Interview," said he solemnly, valiantly quashing an impish grin.

She could not help it, she tousled his hair as she had done a million times in their youth, before life grew tedious and the Standards said their sense of humor must atrophy to the point of nonexistence. He smiled broadly at her, "you haven't done that in ages! It is good to have you back, Iris; I've missed you."

"Yes," said she wistfully, "Society and the Standards made a proper nonentity out of me and extirpated everything that had gone before." She sighed happily and leant back against her seat, "it is good to be me again."

They rattled along for the appropriate amount of time, getting reacquainted and reminiscing about forgotten years, when at last the coach bumped to a stop. The lady was handed down and the gentleman followed, the carriage then dashed off with all the haste of one pursued by robbers. Squiff raised a questioning brow at such unseemly behavior, but she only smiled and shrugged, leading the way towards the great but ancient house that stood before them. At least it wasn't raining this time, rather they stood waiting in a late autumn twilight, an occasional leaf in vivid hues of yellow or red lazily drifting down from the half naked trees.

The same gnomish creature answered the summons and ushered them into the house, Squiff rather awkward in the plain clothes of a common man. She smiled impishly at him, "don't worry about your attire, dear heart, physical appearance is the last thing that matters in this place." He smiled at her, a wan, hopeful thing, but said not a word as he hastened after her, thankful that she seemed to know the way.

She didn't, but from her previous visit she was quite certain that whatever one needed or was looking for eventually found you. So she set forth, bold as a child in her own house, and looked both in eagerness and dread for the Library's appearing. They walked in silence for what must have been miles, seeing no one nor hearing any sign that there had ever been anyone else in the entirety of that puzzling house, but suddenly there it was. Squiff hastened ahead to open the gilt doors for his lady sister, partly out of courtesy and partly because he didn't want to go first.

His heart dropped into his shoes upon sighting the three important looking fellows, richly clad all, sitting at a table and muttering grimly over their books, huge tomes that might contain all the world's knowledge and more. But they paid the intruders no heed, neither did they seem to be consulting with one another. Iris studied them for a moment, before her lips quirked in amusement, as if she had seen something of the like before. Said she impishly, "you remember I mentioned a quilting circle, do you not?" He nodded in confusion, wondering what one could have to do with the other. Continued she, "this seems to be the male variant, at least for those who pride themselves on being wise. There they sit with their knowledge and books, trying to convince themselves that they are indeed the wisest men in the universe and that that should be enough."

"How exceedingly dull," said Squiff with a pensive frown, "how dreadful indeed!"

"It is a grim fate," said a perky voice from deeper within the Library's shadowed depths, "but it is willingly borne; come children." They could not help but obey, drawn inexorably like bees to honey, led as easily as sheep following a familiar voice. The shadows gradually gave way to a cheery room with great windows looking out on an autumn sunset while a merry blaze crackled upon the hearth.

But there was no door by which they could have entered, merely walls covered in shelves, holding countless books. Nor was there a speaker, they seemed alone in the comfy room. Squiff stared into the fire for a moment and then mindlessly studied a stuffed magpie on the mantle, grinned he at his equally perplexed sister, "one might almost fancy this little bird was still alive!"

"I have ever been and will ever be," said the bird in reply.

"Quite!" grinned the much amused Iris at her brother's astonishment.

"Who are you?" asked Squiff in wonder.

"I am," stated the peculiar little fowl.

"You are what?" asked Iris in growing perplexity, but Squiff was silent in thought, some of the things written in those foreign books of his were suddenly stirring after having lain dormant and unused for many a year.

"I simply am," said the bird.

Squiff shook his head in wonder, "can it be? Can it truly be?!"

"Certainly," said the magpie, with a curious tilt of his head, "how easily you accept vampires and elves and dragons, but yet you cannot believe in Me?"

"Those are but characters in a novel, Sir," said Squiff quietly, "as are we. This is meeting the Author Himself, something that never happens in a mortal tale!" Iris's mouth gaped open in very unladylike astonishment, finally beginning to understand.

"Then it is time you forgo such dreary tales," said the Bird gaily, "and start living your own, as it was meant to be lived." The pair suddenly felt rather weak in the knees, but happily a pair of overly comfortable chairs immediately appeared to catch them ere they sat rather abruptly on the magnificent carpet covering the floor. And there was tea at their elbow, much refreshing their rather overwrought sensibilities by its sheer commonality.

"Now," continued that wondrous avian thing, "I have Called you both and you have both assented, as best you can with the knowledge within your possession, which is but little. I will tell you more, but much must be experienced or learned as the tale unfolds. Can you be content in such a circumstance?" Each nodded dully, too astonished to speak. "Excellent," said he, fluffing up his feathers in excitement, "you have both had a very strange time of it, yet have done well even in your ignorance, but I will not leave you benighted any longer, at least in those things that are most important in your service to Me." He cocked his head once more, "that is if you wish to continue?" They both nodded eagerly, as if they feared he might suddenly change his mind and deny them any part in his plans.

"You can go at any time," said he, "into whatever it is that awaits beyond the world you know."

Iris's eyes narrowed as she queried, "into whatever awaits? Do you not know, Sir?"

He smiled slightly at her question, much like that awful Mildred, quite a feat with a beaked face, "I know all things child, never forget that, but you do not nor can you yet comprehend what that might be; it is a thing that must be discovered for oneself."

She blushed and dropped her gaze from his, feeling again an ignorant little girl set firmly in her place by an ungentle nanny, but that was far from the case in this instance, said he as gently as dew settling on spider silk, "be at peace child, there are no foolish questions Here. You need be ashamed of nothing in My Presence, for I know All, including everything there is to know about you, indeed, have I not made you and sustained you all these years? A Good Father does not cast out his children, they can only leave his grace of their own accord."

She looked up and finally gazed deeply into those wonderful eyes, so fathomless and beautiful, she wished to do nothing but for all eternity. He smiled at her then and she at last knew the meaning of Love. She was on her feet in a moment and saying eagerly, "command me, Lord!"

He chuckled warmly at her exuberance and said, "easy my dear, for now you must sit for a bit and learn; only then will you be fit for what I will ask of you."

She sat with an embarrassed squeak, for her brother's sake, not His, but Squiff hardly noticed, so enthralled was he with all the little bird said. He eyed the boy directly and asked, "you are likewise content to remain in this service?"

"Most certainly," grinned the boy ear to ear, "ask of me what You will!"

He spoke at length upon many things that they would need in the days to come, expounding upon the world they knew and the one they had barely glimpsed, of how certain things worked or didn't, of what they might expect in this curious service. It came as rather a disappointing shock when He quit speaking, for both felt they could never be happy again. He smiled at them as if they were utterly ridiculous children who could not quite believe their mother's assurance that there was truly nothing to be afraid of, said He in vast amusement, "dear ones, I am always with you and am always speaking to you, if only you have ears to hear, and now you will! Go forth without fear or doubt or regret! For now your inheritance and wages are truly Love, Joy, Peace, and Hope!" With this jubilant benediction, they found themselves suddenly alone in the quiet little room, save the crackle of the fire and the ticking of a distant clock.

On Uncles

"I still have a million questions," said Iris quietly to her brother.

He grinned at her, "nothing ever changes, dear heart, it is as it has ever been; I have never known you when you did not! But then did He not say that very thing?"

"He did indeed," said she with a wry grin, "but part of me had hoped it might not be so."

"What of all these books?" queried he, glancing about at the vast library housed in the little study.

She could not help but laugh, "did you not know I already carry Ultimate Knowledge in my very pocket?" At his odd look, she pulled forth both of her natural histories, handing one to him, as both grew suddenly to the size of an unabridged dictionary.

"What more could one desire!" said he in approbation.

"The right question," corrected she, "they are quite useless without it; we'd be as unhappy as the three gentlemen we saw when we came in, merely acquiring knowledge for knowledge's sake."

"You are truly learning wisdom," said he delightedly, "I only hope I am as quick a study."

"At least women are allowed to learn Things in this profession," said she ruefully.

"Not that we boys ever learned Things," said he with a shake of his head, "we were very carefully educated in everything but that which matters most."

"So I've heard," said she in disgust, as if a skewed education was worse than no learning at all, for in very truth it was. She merely had to learn Things; he had to unlearn much before he could start anew.

"Now what?" asked he.

She shook her head, "usually things just happen as they must, I've been swept along like a leaf in a windstorm from the start."

"I suppose we can start by finding our way back into our particular reality," said he.

"What think you of this house then?" mused she, "Is it or is it not part of our world?"

"There was some theorization," began he, in what she knew from of old as his philosophical lecturing voice, "from foreign philosophers of course, that perhaps there were other worlds beyond our own, and that if indeed this supposition was true, could there not also be some point of connection between them all? A neutral point outside all worlds but connected to them all. One such proposed a 'wood between the worlds,' but why not this rambling old house instead?"

She smiled in wonder, "at least you escaped your formal education and actually managed to find something far more practical."

He could not help but laugh outright, "milady! Have you any idea how impractical that idea would sound to our former acquaintance?"

"I see your point," said she dryly, "I might as well say all those fairytales of my ingestion are practical from such a perspective." Added she thoughtfully, "but then again, they have been of immense benefit upon this strangest of adventures."

"Truth can be found in the strangest places," whispered that beloved Voice, as the little bird flitted briefly above them, "even if most do not recognize it as such."

"Practical indeed!" said Squiff brightly, "I can't wait to discover what other surprises He has for us."

"I don't think there will ever be an end to them," said she in delight, whereat they both smiled like eager and happy children, as once they had done long ago before Society imposed itself upon them and forced them apart.

They somehow found their way out of the labyrinthine house and found the lady's carriage waiting, as ever was its wont. They hopped in and immediately it set forth, as was also its wont. Said he in wonder, "this is quite the conveyance you have."

"I have nothing to do with it," grinned she, "it is merely the wind that sends me hither and yon, seemingly as it pleases."

"Could I borrow your books?" asked he hopefully.

"I'm sure you'll have your own when needed," said she, "along with all else that is required."

He shook his head in wonder, "I still don't know what is going on!"

"Me neither," giggled she, "but at least we know for Whom we are doing it."

"And that is all that truly matters," sighed he in awe, "for though we may be utterly lost and confused, He never is!"

The coach rattled to a stop, alerting them that they were there, wherever there was. She grinned impishly at him and hopped from the vehicle as if she were an unruly child of six, determined to splash mud on her new frock just to horrify her nurse. He shook his head ruefully and followed after in a much more stately manner, taking her arm as he emerged from the carriage and glancing about in interest. Said she quietly, "it appears to be our uncle's country house!"

"Indeed it is," said the man himself, emerging from the shrubbery, grinning in happy surprise, "what brings you so far from home unannounced?" He looked about suspiciously but could find no hint of an entourage, "and without your usual fanfare?"

She shook her head sadly, "all that is long over, Uncle."

"Humph," grunted he, "a disgusting practice, that." But he smiled kindly at his favorite niece, "but you are always welcome here, dear heart, despite whatever Society says is right and proper in such a case."

"Oh, Uncle!" said she in utter happiness, flinging her arms around him; though no longer in desperate need of such succor, she was truly touched by his kindness.

He smiled fondly at her and said in approbation to Squiff, "and it takes a true man to stand by his disgraced sister, well done, lad, well done indeed!"

Squiff inexplicably studied his boots for a long, awkward moment, but they could tell he was smiling fit to split his face in two, but soon enough they had regained their composure and were ordered into the house for what must certainly be a vital need for rest and refreshment. He turned to order the coach off towards the stables but it was nowhere to be seen; he blinked in wonder but in nowise let it hinder his impending kindness towards his certainly weary guests. They exchanged a joyous smile behind his back, as he draped one arm genially across each pair of beloved shoulders and thus ushered them into the house.

"So you are fled in shame?" queried he as they munched sandwiches and sipped yet more tea.

"Initially," said Iris, trying to determine how much she could safely tell, "but we have not descended upon you as refugees either. It has been far too long!"

"It certainly has," said he, "that rich husband of yours only deigned to allow you to visit once in over a decade!"

"He was quite appalled by your rustic ways," grinned she, but with an amused wink she added, "and I wouldn't have you change a thing about them!"

"And look where all his finery and urbane ways got you," growled he, "dependent on me or some other rustic fool for your very existence!"

"It was quite a dismal match in the end," said she, "but all that is well and truly over. What of you? While I am delighted to see you, I cannot think this can be merely a social call."

"Well, no," said he rather anxiously, "Things have not been as quiet as is usually their want."

"Things indeed!" said the girl with interest.

He grinned at her despite his disquiet, "and since you are a lady in disgrace you figure you might as well look into that which is most anathema for one of your former station!"

"Yet you do not disapprove," smiled Squiff knowingly.

"Of course not," said their uncle, "sticking your head in the sand and ignoring the way the world truly is doesn't help anyone. Perhaps we could actually deal with Things if we actually acknowledged they existed and posed a certain threat to mankind."

"You sound quite the rebel, sir," grinned Iris in delight.

"I am," said he gravely, "there are a few of us who have not been blind or deaf to the Things our so-called betters choose willfully to ignore."

"No wonder my former husband would have nothing to do with you," laughed she.

Squiff gave his hand and a broad smile to his rebellious uncle, "we too are at your service sir, and will do what we must to resolve your troubles, at least regarding Things."

The man beamed, "and here I thought I could be of service to the pair of you! I'm not sure what you think you can do that I can't, but right glad am I to have you. I always knew the pair of you was special. You're the only ones in my entire extended family with a decent and sensible head on your shoulders!" He eyed the lady skeptically, "though I must say I had my qualms when you married that lordling."

"Not my wisest move," agreed she, "but I had no choice, save to flee the City then and there and throw myself on the mercy of Things."

"You could have come here," said he bluntly.

"How would I have gotten word to you or attempted the journey?" countered she.

He smiled grimly, "you would have found a way, lass, if you were determined to do so."

"That she would have," chuckled her remorseless brother, "she was quite besotted, if not with the fellow himself, then at least with the idea of having her own fairytale."

"How was I to know he was of elfkind?" retorted she.

The elder man whistled in surprise while her brother openly gaped at her, she smiled at their astonishment, "see, neither of you foresaw that minor detail either!"

Their uncle regained his composure and eyed her knowingly, "perhaps there is more to you lass than I had anticipated; I begin to think you just might be able to handle Things after all." His eyes narrowed, "but why would an elf marry a woman from a working class family?"

She shrugged, "I believe his family mistook me for someone else." At their curious looks, she told them what she could of the tale behind her intriguing words.

"Did you mention an Aunt Mildred?" said their uncle in wonder.

"Yes," said the girl curiously, "why?"

"Hmmm," said he musingly, "there's a spinster aunt of that name that just moved into a little house just outside the village, says she's had enough of the insanity that passes for sense in the City."

"There could be thousands of Aunt Mildreds in just such circumstances," protested Squiff.

"This one's the original if ever I saw one," said his uncle with a grim shake of his head.

"Perhaps we should make a neighborly call?" proposed the ever socially-minded Iris, at which both men groaned, but her uncle seemed rather more embarrassed than not.

Iris eyed him curiously and he admitted grudgingly, "all right, all right, I've considered paying court to the lady. I never did the sensible thing and marry, at least as Society and the Standards see things, but I never met a lady I could stomach for more than three hours together. This is a cat of a different stripe, if you understand me?"

"That's her," grinned Iris, "a veritable cat indeed!"

Her uncle grinned likewise, "she does mind me a bit of an old grimalkin at that."

Squiff protested, "I'm a dog man myself!"

"You're a regular spaniel, at that," agreed Iris, "and as such, you'll accompany us even so, because you'd never let us venture forth alone."

He sighed at how easily his sister could predict his behavior and thoughts, it was rather disturbing, but then this whole business was rather uncanny, so he might as well get used to it, not that she hadn't been doing just that since time out of mind! So it was they went to pay a visit to the mysterious Mildred, who actually seemed to be expecting them, which in itself seemed to surprise no one, save perhaps their ever more intimidated uncle, who didn't seem to relish a liaison with a female more cunning than himself.

"Come in children, come in," said she most graciously to her younger guests while she smiled at their older companion with a knowingly possessive light in her bright eyes. "How went your Appointment?" asked she conversationally, knowing exactly how it must have gone nor were there mortal words to appropriately describe such a glorious Interview. They made some unremarkable remarks on the subject while Mildred made Uncle Lou as uncomfortable as she could in the process of making him comfortable. She eyed him askance, "and just who might you be?"

He stared at her, for was he not one of the greatest property owners in the Province? But Iris politely intervened, "this is our Uncle, our mother's brother, and one of the most prominent men in the district."

"But he is here," said the remorseless Aunt, "ergo he must know something of Things, and that is dangerous indeed."

"I don't know enough about Things, madam," said he testily, "they're right unruly at the moment and we must find a way to end their menace, whatever it is they are plotting."

"Agreed," said the lady of the house, "but again I will say this is dangerous work for a man of your...persuasion."

"Dangerous?" snorted the man, "as if it weren't equally deadly, probably more so, to a pair of fine ladies?"

"Never mind our peril," said she with a careless flick of her hand, as if shooing a fly, "it is your own fate you must consider."

He glanced suspiciously at each of his companions and thoughtfully scratched his chin, his brows furrowed pensively, "what are you lot up to?"

"Routing Things," said Dearest Aunt Mildred gravely.

"Sounds dangerous," retorted mine uncle.

"For some," countered she.

"But not for little old ladies?" grinned he in anticipation.

"Certainly not!" said she in revulsion at the very thought.

"I want that too," persisted he.

"What?" asked she, as if it were of no matter.

"Whatever it is that makes my niece grin so," said he in growing eagerness, feeling his whole life had been building to this point, but not sure what the denouement entailed.

"It is dangerous," warned Mildred the Inexorable.

"You've already said that," repined Uncle Lou in dismay.

Mildred shook her head grimly, "far more dangerous than Things. They can merely kill you."

"I know," said he wanly, determined but suddenly dubious as to whether it was truly worth the cost.

"You still insist?" asked she, as if he were a child who was determined to stay awake all night.

"Yes!" said he, now with no hint of fear or question in his voice.

"Very well," said that Greatest of Aunts, "but you have been warned." Thereupon she quite exploded, obliterating them all with a Light that was certainly not her own.

"That was...that was..." began Squiff lamely, at which Mildred smiled like the patronizing aunt she undoubtedly was and said, "yes, dear, we all know how it was, so don't bother stating the obvious, an unfortunate habit that, not that there are words to describe it anyway, so you had best not try. Certain poets have attempted it and the results have been rather dreadful."

Uncle Lou glanced about in startlement, not quite sure what to think and certainly unable to speak. Aunt Mildred grinned impishly at him, "I did warn you, sir."

"You did indeed," agreed he at last, her great good humor loosing his tongue, "I had always hoped it was true."

"What?" asked Squiff with a pensive frown, "you had an inkling of this peculiar service?"

"Not that," chuckled their uncle, "I've no more idea what I've volunteered for than the pair of you likely has, but did you learn nothing from those books I sent you?"

"Indeed," grinned Squiff, in spite of himself, "they have quite saved my sanity."

"So that's the source of your top secret and much coveted books by foreign philosophers!" protested Iris, "Why did I never think to ask for the same?"

"Because there are some things even cantankerous bachelor uncles are not allowed to do in our Society," said Uncle Lou quite gravely, "I had hoped your brother might share a little with you, but I could in nowise attempt as much myself."

"He's quite correct," agreed Mildred, "he'd have then lost all contact with the entire clan for his presumption and would have been of service to no one."

"Well something must have got through," grinned Uncle Lou, "you're here, aren't you?"

"I am indeed," smiled she like the brightest rose of summer, "but why and how?"

"Have I not Called you?" sang the merriest of all Voices, "and what in all creation or beyond it can thwart that, save a heart determined to the contrary?"

"What indeed!" rejoiced Miss Mildred, bright as a much beloved bride on her wedding day, nothing like the usual picture she painted of herself as a no-nonsense, drab, and stuffy Great Aunt.

Once all and sundry had returned to some semblance of normalcy, as much as the present company allowed, Squiff could not help but ask, "so what are we here to do?"

"Rout Things," said Mildred stiffly, "have you not been paying attention?"

"Yes," grinned he, "but you've already said that and I was hoping for a little more detail."

At this Uncle Lou spoke up, "that's my boy, a man of detail and action! While I appreciate Lady Mildred's focus on the big picture, we need to address the minor details if we are to triumph. And as the man most familiar with said details, I shall happily inform the rest of you."

"As to that," said Mildred calmly, "you are certainly the man with the facts, I am sure, but as I am the ranking Lady in this mishmash of an army, and as I am far more experienced with Things in general, mightn't I be allowed to go first?"

"Tis a Lady's prerogative," grinned the incorrigible uncle, "you brief us upon your side of things and then I'll fill in any minor details you may have missed."

Iris groaned, "we have Aunt General and Uncle Scout. What does that make us?"

"Do you want to be Rank or File," quipped her vastly amused brother.

"A Lady is never rank," corrected General Mildred.

"I guess that answers that major dilemma," chuckled the company scout, but no one else seemed of a humor to encourage further puns by sharing in his delight.

"How long have you been spying on the neighbors?" asked Uncle Lou, far more seriously, of the Generalized Aunt.

"About a month by your reckoning," said she, allowing for scout, rank, and file to all goggle and gape as they must, grinned she in explanation, "you all need to quit thinking of time as a straight line, that is no longer your view of the matter. You can quite easily be in two places at once or nowhere at all, you may skip ahead or fall back; it is all the same to one quite outside the element."

"What a strange and wonderful thought," mused Uncle Lou eagerly, "this beats those foreign philosophers all hollow!"

"Why should it surprise you," asked Mildred, "that when the blinders of mortality are finally stripped away that you can at last see clearly that which the wisest of mortals could once only grasp at blindly?"

"Forgive me madam," grinned he, "I am still very new at this."

"You are doing very well for a rank amateur," agreed she, with a warning glance at Squiff to forestall any disastrous attempt at punning on his side.

"So what have you observed, general?" asked Iris, finally getting a word in edgewise.

"Things are indeed on the move," said that lady, generally speaking, "and it must be a dire plot indeed to require the attention of the four of us, inexperienced though you be. I've never seen this much concentrated activity outside of the Wood. They are up to something big." She eyed the scout questioningly.

He nodded happily and added, "that they are milady. I've noticed many furtive comings and goings, they wish to appear as nothing more than honest tradesmen or innocuous visitors on some benign errand, but there have been too many of them in this rather quiet district; it can be nothing but Things in human guise."

"And now you will be able to recognize them for what they truly are," said she.

"They can recognize us if we stray into their Wood," said Mildred, "but amongst our own kind, we blend in like so many sheep to anyone but their shepherd."

"Wolves in sheep's clothing?" mused Squiff.

"Rather sheepdogs guarding the flock," corrected she, in a general sort of way.

"So what are our orders, general?" asked Iris, hopeful of a precise answer.

But Mildred sorely disappointed her, for there was no such thing in this peculiar business, "you two go visit your uncle and I'll continue to inspire gossip as the most eligible spinster in the district." She grinned widely at Uncle Lou, "I will forgive you your intentions, for you knew not what you were about. But now you understand?"

"Certainly, madam," grinned Lou quite unabashedly, "we've already discussed the difference seeing clearly makes in such cases."

"Though it might be beneficial if we do continue the ruse," suggested Iris, "it would legitimize our continued meetings, at least amongst the villagefolk."

Grinned Mildred in delight, "I've never been courted before; it might be a rather agreeable experience at that."

"I've never gone courting," said Uncle Lou rather wistfully.

"You've never been a soldier fighting a war beyond time, either," countered Mistress Mildred, "which do you think will be the easier?"

"I don't think wooing a general will be easy by any measure," grinned the self-proclaimed scout.

"Wisdom indeed," chuckled the general, "now off with you, we've fraternized enough for today. We'll meet again tomorrow for tea, until then, do what you know you must."

They left the little general, a banty rooster patrolling the barnyard, and returned to their uncle's sprawling but comfortable home. "This will certainly make for some interesting gossip for local tongues to wag over," grinned their uncle, once they were alone in his favorite parlor, "many have sworn I'm a confirmed bachelor!"

"I pity any lady of the district who ever thought you might take an interest in her," smiled Iris, "if she tries taking out her disappointment on Aunt Mildred!"

"There are several that will likely only learn the hard way," said he with a wondering shake of his head, "but I think they are bright enough to only try it once." Added he thoughtfully, "though there are a couple that might just be stubborn enough to keep at it, regardless of how painful the lessons become!"

"What is to come of all this?" asked Squiff, motioning at the house and grounds visible through the windows.

"I was going to leave it all to you, lad," chuckled he, "but it seems I must find an heir that can actually legally inherit something."

"It is a beautiful day," said Iris, "could we not go for a ride and survey the countryside? Mightn't we observe these Things of yours and discern their true nature and perhaps a bit of their business?"

"An excellent suggestion, lass," grinned Uncle, "I believe it is just the thing!"

So off they went to the stables, as he tried to hide his quizzical smile, for he was quite proud of his collection of fine horses and eager to know what his kin thought upon the matter. Their astonishment and wonder was all he could have hoped for, but strangely it was shared by the equally flabbergasted proprietor, for some of those carefully selected equines were not horses at all. In one stall stood a unicorn, another housed a winged horse, and still another held something that appeared to be a large snow white stag with crystalline horns. Uncle Lou quickly hid his shock and asked quietly of his companions, "what now? Whose side are they on?"

Iris said thoughtfully, "we must not assume all Things are antagonistic to humanity or our Master. Some are probably indifferent and we may even have allies amongst them."

"Certainly something to keep in mind," mused their uncle, "but how do we discern which are which?"

"We should probably continue to leave them in ignorance that our eyes have truly been opened," suggested Squiff, "at least until we can discern their own agenda."

"An excellent idea lad," nodded Uncle in approbation, added he, "I wonder if any of the household staff or neighbors are of similar lineage?"

"How long have you had these particular 'horses?'" asked Iris, "and have you acquired any new servants or tenants in that time?"

"It was easy enough to see a problem in the neighborhood with all the peculiar busyness," mused he, "but I never even considered my own household and stables to be thus infiltrated! It has been about nine months, and in that time I've acquired two housemaids and an errand boy as well." His eyes narrowed, "I got a surprisingly good deal on that trio of beasts; too bad I didn't look these gift horses in the proverbial mouth!"

"So someone wanted the beasts placed in your stable for a reason," nodded Iris.

"But to think they'd deign to bear a human rider or pull a carriage," said Uncle in wonder.

Iris smiled grimly, "nay sir, the very Queen of the Fairies posed as a lady's maid to insinuate herself into just such a plot!"

"Then let us assume them to be spies for our enemies until they prove themselves otherwise," said Squiff.

"Agreed," said the others in chorus.

"Now for our ride," grinned Iris, "I don't think we should all take a spy with us, perhaps two normal beasts and one secret agent?"

"Excellent, milady," agreed Lou, "why don't you take the unicorn?"

"I've always dreamed of doing just that," said she excitedly.

"I know," said her uncle with a reminiscent shake of his head, "it was all you ever played at, the few times your parents ever brought you to visit me!"

"But who thought the dear creatures could be evil?" said she sadly.

"Who is to say he's of an evil disposition, my dear?" queried her uncle, "He is likely no more evil or cruel-hearted than your average man, and likely just as selfish and myopic when it comes to the concerns of his own people."

"Perhaps that is even worse," sighed she, "for I had imagined unicorns to be everything kindhearted, noble, and gracious, not small-minded and contentious, as is the wont of men!"

"Such is the fate of every race that abandons its first estate for a lesser vision," said Uncle sadly, "for we are but weak and fallible gods, unsuited to guide ourselves into our true destiny."

"Do you think there could be some amongst the Woodfolk who have never sinned and fallen into pride and selfishness?" mused Iris hopefully.

"Perhaps," said he with a shake of his head, "but that is yet to be discovered. But for now, let us be about discovering something about our current predicament." They exchanged rueful smiles at their tendency to lose themselves so easily in philosophical conundrums before each went about selecting a mount for their outing.

The unicorn did not look particularly happy to be thus selected, but he pranced eagerly at the chance to get out of that wretched stall and perhaps to see or overhear something to his benefit. But the three riders talked merely of the weather and little happenings around the estate or in the village, of absolutely no interest to anyone who wasn't a mortal farmer's wife! Meanwhile they kept their eyes open for any sign of Things and surreptitiously watched the unicorn for any hints as to his part in the matter, but he was as dull a subject of observation as any of the humans in the group. They did see Things, but nothing more sinister than the Things the younger pair had glimpsed about the City. Here an elf lad running an errand in a servant's livery, there a centaur harnessed to a cart, and a wyvern perched upon the smithy.

They saved their discussion of their observations until the unicorn was safely stabled and they were alone in their uncle's favored parlor. "There are certainly more Things abroad than one would expect in this rather sparsely peopled corner of the world," said Iris, "they seem as common here as they ever did in the City, which considering the relative importance of one and the obscurity of the other, is a matter of grave concern."

Squiff frowned, "but we are reasoning from a human perspective, to us the City is the most important thing, but from the view of Things, perhaps something else is more important?"

"An excellent observation, lad," mused their uncle, "but how are we to know what is of significance to the Woodfolk and what is not?"

"Why not simply ask them?" queried a musical voice, as all three turned to stare in astonishment at the newly hired errand boy, who stood in the doorway holding the candle he was using to light those scattered about the house as twilight crept in, but no boy was this, at least not of human descent. He saw the surprise in their eyes and amended, "forgive my eavesdropping, sir, it was quite unintentional, but when the peculiar subject of your conference became clear to me, I could not help myself. How is it you can now See?"

Impish Delight

"First tell me whom you serve?" said uncle Lou gravely.

The impish lad grinned, "excellent, sir, one must be cautious when he attempts to meddle in things beyond his ken. But fear not, while most of the Woodfolk scattered about this district are servants or allies of the Fairy Queen, I and a few like me are not."

"An independent agent or an agent for someone else?" pressed Iris.

"And whom do you serve?" countered the pixie boy, "For even this morning I was quite certain you were as yet unable to See, sir, though I believe you were beginning to suspect Things were not as they seemed."

"A supposition I also have reached," said another voice, this one far from cordial, "and one I fear you will rue."

Four sets of surprised eyes turned to look upon this second intruder of the evening, an overly pale young lady guised as a housemaid, who looked as if a fainting couch and smelling salts would be of great service in the next few minutes, but she showed no sign of imminent collapse, indeed, she seemed on the edge of violence. She eyed the imp stonily and sneered, "well do I know you are not on our side, traitor, but I know you have not dared confide in these wretched mortals, yet how have they discovered us?"

"Too many strangers in too small a district," said Uncle Lou evenly, "I knew something strange was going on but had no idea what or why."

"Yet now you can See?" hissed the perturbed vampire.

"All too well, milady," said Squiff grimly, in nowise intimidated by this lesser vampire, having held his own with a far older and sterner individual.

"To your detriment, mortal," snarled she, revealing a set of very pointy teeth, "I am afraid I must silence the lot of you."

"And how do you propose to do that, madam?" asked Iris in grim amusement.

"Do sheep banter so with the wolf?" queried she in irritation.

"Do your worst, madam," grinned Uncle Lou, not in the least intimidated.

She briefly glared at the imp, who showed no sign of interfering but wore a rather thoughtful frown, as if he could not quite understand the behavior of the endangered humans, as she needlessly hissed, "mind your own business!" He shrugged his indifference to her threats and continued to study the peculiar trio and mull over all that had been said and done, trying to guess the riddle.

The vampire could move swifter than sight, at least to a mortal's perception, but that was not the case with her current victims. She leapt upon the master of the house with impunity, slitting his throat as if he were of no more consequence than a barnyard fowl destined for the stewpot. He watched her attack with a perplexed smile and made no move to resist, but there was no blood, no mess, no strangled cry of surprise, there was only Light, dreadful, horrid Light! She flew back with a cry of horror and a hissed imprecation, spat she in disgust, "Bloodless!"

"Ah!" cried the page in triumph, "that explains everything!"

She glared at him dangerously, but there were rules about one immortal setting upon another and the consequences of such a breach were dire. "Wait!" commanded Iris, as the creature thought to flee with her painfully gleaned information.

"You dare command me?" snarled she, but making no further move towards the door and freedom.

"Certainly," grinned my lady broadly, "I believe you would prefer it to the alternative?"

"Yes," hissed she, at last exhibiting a modicum of fear, as the menfolk stared at the lady in incomprehension.

Iris enlightened them, if only to annoy the vampiress, "though of an immortal race, vampires can still be killed, even if they will never succumb to old age or illness."

"What are we to do with her?" asked Squiff, "We can't exactly take prisoners, can we?"

"You cannot trust her word not to tell her mistress of your true nature," advised the imp, at which the vampire hissed like a frightened cat.

"You still haven't told us whom you serve?" smiled the Lady Iris.

The page bowed deeply and smiled broadly, "we have the same Master, milady and therefore I am likewise at your service."

"Excellent," said she, hearing the truth in his words, "what would you recommend we do with our rather compromising spy?"

"Are you unaware of a certain rambling old house?" said the lad in some confusion.

Iris grinned, "we are all rather new at this, your master in particular, but yes, I am aware of the place, what of it?"

"It is the one place you might detain her without worry of escape or rescue, a mortal prison would not hold her long," said he.

"It might even do her some good," mused miss Iris in vast amusement, but queried she, "will her superiors not suspect something of the matter when she summarily vanishes?"

The boy's eyes narrowed briefly in question and then laughed aloud, "I forget you are still new to this service and likely know not your full proclivities. In such an instance, I believe it quite usual for one of you to take the place of the vanished spy."

"We can change our appearance?" said Iris eagerly, "Perfect!" She concentrated for a moment and suddenly there were two identical vampiric housemaids in the room, the original with a gaping jaw, as if she meant to bite a very wide neck!

"Now what of her?" asked Lou.

"Take my coach," grinned the second vampire, "I've a feeling you have an Interview of your own to attend to whilst there." He shook his head in confusion, but could think of no alternative, especially as the lady's coach was currently standing at the ready just outside the parlor doors that usually opened upon the gardens, but somehow the vehicle had found a way inside that walled-in bit of lawn! He smiled broadly at this, took hold of the suddenly irate vampiress, but even her supernatural strength was of no use against her captor, who held her as firmly and gently as he might an itty bitty kitty.

"Now what?" asked Squiff of both the imp and the seeming vampire once their uncle had literally vanished in the coach.

Iris smiled, quite disturbing in that particular guise, "perhaps our new friend would care to tell us all he knows about supernatural happenings in this usually peaceful district?"

"Gladly, milady," grinned the lad, "I have waited months for just such a chance."

Iris began, "you said there are more Woodfolk in our Master's service likewise employed?"

"Yes," said the imp, slowly, seemingly awkward upon that particular topic. At the lady's frown of consternation, he amended, "some are deep undercover, milady, if you understand me? My allegiance has never been a secret, but there are others who are trusted by the Queen and her allies, but who truly serve our Master instead."

"I understand," said Iris, "we do not wish to give away their advantage of anonymity and lose access to the Queen's plots. Have you observed anything yourself or heard from these unnamed others about what is going on?"

"No," said the lad quietly, "only that a significant number of the Woodfolk are strangely busy in this otherwise uninteresting corner of the mortal world."

"What of the creatures in the stable?" asked Squiff eagerly.

"Spies of the Queen," said the lad, "she has them everywhere at the moment, which means something big is in the works."

"But what?" sighed Iris.

The imp said grimly, "let us hope we can find out before it is too late, whatever it is, it cannot be of benefit to mortal men." His eyes narrowed, "just how many of the Messengers are active in the province?" At Iris and Squiff's shared grin of triumphant comprehension, the imp chuckled in pure delight, "new indeed!, you did not even know the name of your service?"

"Save for the vampiric slur," grinned Iris in rueful wonder, "no, we did not. Certainly a better epithet than Bloodless! But to answer your original question, there are four of us: three neophytes and Aunt Mildred."

"Ah!" said the lad in wonder, "a dread captain indeed! Your folk are in good hands if the Iron Lady has been unleashed."

"Aunt Mildred?!" said Squiff in astonishment, having a very hard time seeing beneath the rather benign and fusty surface of the spinsterish old woman.

The imp could not help but smile at the young Messenger's disbelief, "aye lad," chuckled he, "despite appearances, a grimmer foe our enemies have never met, short of our Master Himself."

Iris, who had seen Mildred in action a time or two, had far less trouble believing it, despite appearances, she nodded thoughtfully and asked of the lad, "of what advantage is it to the Woodfolk to meddle in mortal affairs?"

He shrugged, "the political and social aspirations of the Woodfolk are as varied and diverse as the schemes and desires of your own folk, milady, perhaps even more so when you consider how many more races and factions are involved."

"Ugh," sighed Iris, "politics!"

"Leave that messy business to me, dear sister," smiled Squiff, "and I'll leave that old relic to you."

"I'd be careful what I said about Mildred," cautioned his sister, "she outranks both of us! You may end up in a room next to our vampire."

"I would at that," sighed he, adding with a grimace, "or assigned to the quilting circle for a few centuries."

"Even better!" grinned Iris malevolently, but turning calmly to the imp she asked, "how many more of the household staff are on the Queen's payroll?"

"The other new housemaid is a goblin," said the impish lad, "and I believe one of the scullions, though of the mortal race, is being paid by agents of the Queen, but she can in nowise See. You have seen the occupants of the stable. Several tradesmen, craftsmen, and hired hands that have business in your uncle's house are also of the Woodfolk, but that should be rather obviously the case. You need only fool the goblin and whomever you are required to report to."

"Very well," said Iris, "and I suppose we should not be seen fraternizing, you and I?"

"No," said the boy, "at least not when you are in your current guise, but you must not forget to make an appearance as yourself from time to time or send the young lady away, lest you draw attention by your sudden vanishment."

"You are very good at this sort of thing," said Squiff in wonder.

"You will be as well," grinned the lad, "after a thousand years of such service."

"Let's get through this mission first," grinned Iris at her suddenly overwhelmed brother, "one step at a time, Squiff, just remember that."

"Sorry!" said the appalled imp, "I forget how new you are to this service and what such a length of time must seem like to your as yet mortal sensibilities."

"We need to start thinking like folk beyond time," said Iris solemnly, "and such a reminder is in nowise unwelcome, not in the least!" Squiff could only shake his head in wonder at such an idea, hoping he could one day wrap his mind around just such a concept.

Just then the parlor doors swung open and Uncle Lou came in, trailed by two fashionably unremarkable gentlemen, who paused in their approach as they exchanged a questioning look upon sighting a vampire, an imp, and a human lad in close council together on the far side of the room. Uncle Lou noticed the odd behavior of his companions and stopped in his own turn, taking in the scene anew, grinning widely, he said to the newcomers, "easy lads, you of all people should know appearances are not always what they seem."

Miss Iris was immediately herself, one corner of her mouth twitching in vast amusement, but otherwise her countenance as bland and indifferent as any bored hostess, said she, "I suppose you don't remember me, Gentlemen? Whilst our adventures together have been rather limited, I would have hoped they might have been memorable even so."

"Quite madam," grinned the First nameless Gentleman, who had first discovered the Lady in the midst of her initial distress, wherein this whole tale was begun.

"We are at your service once more, milady," the Second grinned wryly, "if you will have us after this most grievous of breaches of etiquette?"

"I suppose it is hard to recognize someone who looks nothing like themselves?" mused she in vast amusement, eyeing them hopefully, "is there not a way to identify one another, even whilst in disguise?"

"No," said the more experienced Messenger, "it would be nice, but perhaps a weakness others could likewise exploit, like our ability to now See foils many well laid plans to which mortals would otherwise be blind and helpless."

Introductions were made all around, the impish person delighted to make the acquaintance of so many of the usually unpredictable Messengers, who might be there one moment and gone the next so quickly one hardly ever had a chance to actually interact with them. After everyone had been introduced and thoroughly greeted, Iris did perhaps the wisest thing she would ever do or had ever done: she closed the drapes. If the little trio plotting together had given the two newcomers pause, what would others think? She hoped no one had noticed anything odd, but there was nothing to be done about it now.

"Six?!" said the First Gentleman in astonishment, even in his long and peculiar career, he had never heard of such a gathering of the Messengers, especially with such a formidable old soldier like Mildred at their head, "quite the scandal must be brewing!"

"Indeed," agreed the Second, "even if half of you are new recruits, such a number is unheard of!"

Iris asked of the pensive First Gentleman, "could you tell us a little of the Woodfolk and their relationship to mortal men and our role therein? Is that our main task: supervising the Fairy Queen?"

"Nay lass," grinned he, "I can see why you would think that, considering your adventures thus far." He nodded cordially towards the imp, who grinned brightly back, said he, "most of the Woodfolk are just like the majority of humanity: they have no interest in matters outside their own particular lives and affairs and little trouble themselves with such things. They live their entire lives within the Fairy Wood and never have aught to do with anything outside it or trespassers therein. Just like most of humanity is content never to stir much outside the village or city or district in which they were born. There are of course a few, like our good imp here, who choose to live in the Master's service, just as there are some mortal men that do likewise. There are also immortal folk who grasp after power, wealth, or influence that is not rightfully theirs, just as there are bandits, robbers, corrupt politicians, and tyrants among mortal men. Our duty is not to police any particular race, country, or time, but rather to protect the innocent from Things against which they are quite helpless."

"That's how I came to be in the Master's service," said the page eagerly, "I was but a lad when I ventured forth from the Wood upon some little mischief bent, which my parents and elders had warned me against time and again, but youth thinks itself wiser than experience, or at least impervious to the consequences of foolishness, but against all counsel to the contrary, I went anyway. I was enjoying a night in the open under the stars, marveling at their unveiled beauty, a rare sight for a Wood-dweller, when I fell afoul of an equally young band of men intent on their own mischief. They felt themselves quite important and bold for having caught a Thing, though in truth I was so awestruck by the sights about me that I was quite heedless to all else happening about me, including the young ruffians who captured me, for I saw them not until they were nearly on top of me.

They demanded that I give them the treasure I no doubt had secreted somewhere nearby or they'd have me stuffed as a trophy of their warrior prowess and courage. I'm from a rather poor family and certainly didn't possess anything even remotely close to the riches they imagined I must have, neither did I wish to pay for my folly with my life, but there seemed little hope of rescue, for I was quite outnumbered and as you can see, even the smallest man is far bigger and stronger than me. But as I contemplated my doom and nearly despaired of life, something rather remarkable happened. Those great and horrid Things, for so do the lesser Woodfolk speak of mortal men, suddenly grew quiet and uneasy, for previously there had been much bragging and rejoicing at their great good luck, but something suddenly troubled them all.

Out of the darkness rode a man, simply a gentleman astride a rather unremarkable horse, but something about him made the youths uneasy but brought hope to my despairing heart. He spoke a few calm and sensible words, nothing more, and those young men simply drifted away, each towards his own home, leaving me alone on the sward with the stranger. He dismounted immediately and helped me to my feet, saying something equally sensible and wise to me, but instead of going home, I wanted That, whatever it was he had, perhaps what I had so foolishly left home to find. He smiled at me then and told me how to find It. I've been in His service ever since."

Squiff smiled in wonder, "I had never thought the Woodfolk might find mortal men equally as intimidating as we find them!"

The First Gentleman shook his head gravely, "even the various classes and factions within a given city of men have such fears and prejudices, why is it a surprise to find them between the races as well? Even the so-called Woodfolk are not a united front, there are many divisions, ancient rivalries, and prejudices amongst them as well. Neither is humanity a peaceable sea of mutual understanding, if there were but two men alive in all the world, they would still find something to disagree about!"

"Quite," smiled Iris grimly, "such is indeed the way of the world, whether noble or peasant, urban or rural, mortal or immortal you be."

Uncle Lou intervened, "while all this philosophical musing is the thing I love best in all the world, don't you think we ought to get to bed? At least to keep up appearances? Nothing travels faster than gossip, at least out here in the hinterlands, if I entertain guests and none of us ever rest, people will talk."

"Well spoken, my friend," said the First, "let us to bed then!"

The page looked significantly at our lady of vampires, who squeaked in embarrassed surprise, before donning the appropriate disguise and escorting her master's guests off to bed. With the page's help, she then returned to those belonging to the vampiric housemaid. "Where have you been?" hissed her roommate, who was quite obviously a goblin, though Iris had never before seen one before.

"The master had some guests arrive quite late," said Iris bluntly.

"The master indeed!" spat the goblin, "soon these wretched mortals will serve us, or cease to trouble the world at all!"

"Perhaps," hissed the vampire, "but for now we have appearances to keep up!"

"Yes," grumped the dissatisfied maid, "at least we, creatures of the night, were so fortunate as to be given the late shift."

"The humans dislike it," countered the other, "why is there any surprise that the newest, and therefore lowliest, of the servants would be given such an unsavory task?"

"Since when did you become a philosopher?" grouched the goblin.

Iris smiled to herself, when indeed? But she merely replied, "it has been a very long evening, I would like some time to myself before tomorrow's impending toil."

The girl had no wish to hurt or embarrass her master, truly she did not, but she was the least of all the servants in his employ, in desperate need of money but would never be in possession of any, unless she did something quite unexpected. Who did it hurt? What harm could it do? She heard things and saw things everyday that no one knew that she knew, for as the least of all servants, she was as overlooked and invisible as the paintings on the wall. So when a certain someone sidled up to her one evening as she took a stroll about the ever darkening gardens, she was quite delighted that they might be of mutual benefit, one to the other; she had information and he had money. So it was she watched and listened and hoped she might stumble across something her employer might pay very well for indeed. So it was she happened to be looking in at the parlor doors that particular evening, watching some very strange things happening indeed, not least of which was a great carriage drawn by four horses suddenly appearing within the walled garden!

Things were just getting interesting when the master's wretched niece drew the curtains, the witch! For truly a sorceress she must be, having taken on the guise of one of the newest housemaids! Not being able to See, she could in nowise see the vampire in her true guise, but she saw the other woman take on the maid's human likeness and that was quite enough. Perhaps she would make enough from this evening alone to leave both spying and servitude behind, though she was starting to enjoy espionage, perhaps she could go into it as a career? With this thought to amuse her, she turned to go but found herself eye to eye with a dreadful specter. No ghost or undead creature could inspire the fear that suddenly fell upon the terrified scullion at that moment, for nothing could be worse than an irate Aunt Mildred.

"Come along," said that dreadest of all Aunts, "we must talk." There was no fight left in the miserable creature, she could merely slink along in that grim lady's wake with all the dignity of a beaten dog. But they did not enter the great house, instead they hied themselves off towards the village, stopping at a little house just on the edge of it, that rented by the dread lady herself.

"Tea?!" squawked the astonished prisoner as a cup was set before her, the second best china too!, with a generous piece of cake as well!

Mildred smiled grimly, "even the condemned are allowed a last meal."

"Yes, milady," shuddered the wretched creature.

"Forget your theatrics," said Mildred solemnly, "what were you up to?"

The girl's eyes were wide with horror, "there's a witch in the master's house, miss! And I've seen other strange things as well."

"Tell me," said the inexorable Mildred. The girl did, none could resist that particular force of nature. "And what do you plan to do with your information?"

"There's a man who will pay me well for it, madam," whimpered the girl.

"Spying for profit," sighed milady the aunt, "were it simple curiosity, perhaps we could do something about that, but you are in the pay of the enemy. That's treason, child."

The girl's eyes were wide in horror, she had only wanted to make a little something extra, and then there were the Things, protested she, "but the witch?!"

"Is well in hand," sighed milady, "what concerns me at present is what is to come of you?"

"I didn't mean any harm, miss, truly I didn't!" sobbed the thoroughly miserable girl.

"Perhaps you didn't at that," said Mildred gently, "could you do it over again, what would you do?"

She studied her feet, dirty and ill-shod, sniffing loudly, she met that grim lady's gaze, finding a deadly sort of kindness therein, rather than the judgment and malice she had expected; it smote her sore, and suddenly she knew she wanted That, whatever betide, she must find this Thing that could make such a dreadful and theoretically heartless creature show such grace, mercy, and kindness to the least of all servants. Sniffled the girl anew, tears welling once more in her eyes, "I thought all I needed was a little more money, miss, to be happy and content with my lot, I truly did. But even were I a Queen, me thinks I'd still be unhappy, but you miss, you have That. And that's What I want. Spying gave me a momentary thrill, but I don't think it will fill the hole in my heart either. I want That!"

Mildred smiled and this time it was anything but grim, "perhaps there is hope for you after all." The next morning she sent the girl back to her usual tasks, but it was a completely different person who went skipping back towards the unending drudgery of the kitchens than the pathetic creature she had caught skulking about the back garden but the night before. Because now she was a person, a valuable and loved and significant person, and she knew it now too, to the very depths of her soul. She also had a mission, one she could actually feel good about. When that shadowy fellow approached her that evening, she would know exactly what to say and what not. She was now part of something greater, bigger, and more wonderful than anything she could even begin to imagine: a conspiracy to take over the world. To overthrow all wrong and hate and fear and sorrow and even death itself, and that was a mission she could truly smile about, even be she the least of soldiers in that great and terrible war, one far older and bigger than the world she knew, but still she had battles she could fight, to throw back the darkness in her own small way. Nor did she fight alone.

So it was the little army met in the quarters of their dread commander, or Mildred's rented cottage, if one must be prosaic. Lady Iris appeared as herself, the vampire maid presumably busy elsewhither in that great house. Aunt Mildred told of the spy she had discovered the previous evening but who was now in their Master's employ. She raised a questioning brow at the advent of the impish page amongst their company, to which he ruefully replied, "my allegiance is no secret amongst the Woodfolk, madam. Since I'm already held in the highest suspicion anyway, I don't see that it makes much of a difference if I attach myself to your little band of renegades."

"Well spoken," said she with a grin, "welcome aboard lad!" She turned to the rest of her company, "has anyone anything else to report?" All that had happened the previous night was told in detail, discussed, and examined. Afterwards she said, "it's a beginning, certainly. But six?! It is quite unheard of."

The First Gentleman smiled, "that was exactly what I said, milady."

She smiled wanly at him, his own grin fleeing therewith, and continued, "and what is to be our reason for spending so much time together, for gadding about the countryside as we please, who are these esteemed gentlemen that called at such an obscene hour of the night?"

Uncle Lou was in nowise discomfited by her presumed cantankerousness, he could be quite a belligerent old bird himself had he a mind to. Said he evenly, "I'm a member of the lesser gentry, madam, one long ago branded an eccentric; I can do whatever it pleases me, and my guests are expected to be just as odd, without raising any questions whatsoever."

"At last the Standards and Society's foibles will avail us!" triumphed she, "That will be just the thing. Spread out and see what you can discover about this most enormous of plots." They saluted thoroughly and then scattered immediately, upon her last order bent.

Sighed Iris in parting, "I suppose I had best get back to my alter-ego's duties," as she disappeared in the direction of the great house. Uncle Lou and the page had some business in the village and then with his Steward pertaining to his property. Squiff thought to take the two Gentlemen on a riding tour of the area, to which they both happily agreed. Aunt Mildred went to do whatever it is spinsterly generals do when not bossing others around.

This time Squiff chose the winged horse while his companions each made do with a regular earthly nag, albeit one of the finest ever bred, for his uncle did have excellent taste in horseflesh. They headed out into the vast expanse of rural nothingness, at least that's what a City-dweller would assume lay outside the safety of their Walls or even the relative security of that ramshackle house, but that was not what they found, mostly because they were not silly enough to have haughty expectations that must soon be dashed, instead they welcomed whatever adventure chose to beset them with all the wisdom of a child's heart, open and joyous.

They rode through pleasant woods, surveyed wide and verdant fields, galloped through the hay meadows, and meandered at their leisure along a winding little road in no hurry to get anywhere in particular. They saw a griffin patrolling the skies far above and startled a covey of tiny dragons, hiding in a pasture just springing back after the sheep had chewed it to almost nothing. There was a small troll helping load a wagon as they passed through a village. Here was a dryad poking quietly about a little copse as they stopped to water the horses. But what were they up to?

All the while, they held their tongues on any important matter, simply observing the pleasantness of the day or lightly treading the paths of the lesser philosophical disciplines, but nothing the winged horse would find of interest or use. He held his tongue likewise, heroically acting the simple horse he appeared to everyone else, though Squiff could tell from the stiffness in his gait and the hesitant way in which he responded to his cues, he was far from happy about the ruse.

Remarked one Gentleman to the other, as they dismounted that evening and returned their mounts to the stable, "that horse of the lad's must've foundered a bit or mayhap it's a touch of the colic?"

"I'm sure the groom will see to his comfort," said the boy, "he's just a bit stiff I think, perhaps he was worked too hard in the last day or two?"

"That's probably the right of it," said the other Gentleman, "but forget the poor brute; I hope we are in time to dress for dinner!" At this insipid remark, the trio hastened back into the house, leaving the denizens of the stable to themselves. Most were lazily picking at their hay or drowsing where they stood, but three of the creatures were in nowise so easily contented, and while keeping a wary eye out for any sapient intruders, they began to converse.

Said that magnificent stag, "has anyone seen or heard anything to benefit our quest?"

"Nay," said the winged horse in disgust, "I spent the day with a band of minor poets!"

The unicorn shook his great, shaggy head, "neither did the creatures betray anything the least bit useful the day I spent in their company. How utterly tedious this is!"

"But quite necessary," said the stag, "if the Queen is to be believed."

"I'm sure for her own sake it is," grumped the pegasus, "but will it be for the good of us all or merely for the Queen and hers?"

"It seems to be for us all, at least in theory," said the unicorn.

"That is yet to be seen," said the winged horse, "but if I must endure this tiresome servitude for naught, I will be far from pleased in the matter and in nowise silent."

So it went for several weeks, with nothing of significance happening on either side, at least until a murmur of excitement ran through the various Things siding with the Fairy Queen, for a meeting had been called, to discuss progress and lack thereof and perhaps even to hear what next was to be done.

"Are you coming?" hissed the goblin maid at her companion.

"I don't know," replied the vampire who was not.

"You don't know?!" said the astonished goblin, "you must!"

"I suppose I have no choice," said Iris, knowing she was more than likely to give herself away amongst so many creatures strange to herself but who must know the vampiress she resembled, but there was nothing else to be done; if she didn't go she would likewise destroy her cover, so off she went.

"Wait!" said the goblin, suddenly stopping in the middle of an empty corridor, "what if we bring her ladyship a gift? The most important man hereabouts and that little imp of a traitor would be just the thing! It might even advance our plan by months! Imagine not having to pretend to be a sweet little bit of servile nothingness any longer? Let's do it!"

"Isn't this a bit hasty?" queried the now nervous non-vampire, "What if it destroys her plans entirely?"

"You're a regular wet blanket," huffed the eager goblin, "I don't care what the Queen thinks! I'm tired of doing nothing but work, work, work for months on end. What about you?"

"Quite," smiled Iris, suddenly wondering what her uncle would think to be set upon by two upstart housemaids! Without further debate, they hastened off to the little parlor wherein her uncle was wont to sit up late every evening over many a cup of tea, long after most everyone else was in bed, tended only by the page he had taken on as his personal valet. Both looked up in astonishment when the door opened without a knock or request to enter, it was quite a grievous breach of protocol in those days, perhaps even more so than kidnapping the minor gentry.

Iris could see the fire in her uncle's eager eyes, as if he knew some adventure was just now trying to sneak up on him, and he couldn't wait to get the jump on it instead. She shook her head slightly, a gesture she could safely make, as the goblin was crouched in front of her, leading the way into the room. Uncle Lou laid aside his book, gave a long suffering sigh, and waited the ladies' pleasure, which was for the goblin to knock him senseless with her unnatural strength and drag him out the garden doors, leaving Iris to do the same to the poor imp, at whom she smiled wistfully and gave a covert wink, he grinned widely and allowed himself to be manhandled as she saw fit.

The goblin was waiting for her atop the garden wall, hissing eagerly, "hand up the captives and then follow me over."

Iris shrugged, lifting their unconscious companions with ease before scuttling up herself, wondering what Society would think if it ever discovered she was out scaling the walls of respectable country estates! She likewise handed down their prisoners and followed in turn, vanishing silently into the night dark mists, each carrying one of the captives. Without a word, they at last came to the place wherein the meeting was to commence, a whole host of creatures, many to which Iris could put no name, were there and jostling this way and that, each hoping for an ideal seat.

"What do you have there?" queried a werewolf of the goblin, "we ain't supposed to take prisoners or kill anybody yet."

"This here is the most important man in the area," said she with haughty glee, "if stuff needs doing, he's the one that can get it done, and I'm sure her Ladyship will rightly understand that and be quite appreciative about it likewise."

"And that other one?" snarled the wolfman.

"A traitorous little imp," said the goblin smugly, "we shouldn't have to tolerate his sort in our midst, besides, he's taken up with the chief man, so we couldn't snag one without the other."

"It's your head," shrugged the wolf grimly, as if it were of no further concern to him.

"He's only jealous," hissed the she-goblin to her companion.

"For our sakes, I hope you are right," replied the vampire who wasn't.

A Long Awaited Meeting

Their whispers were cut short as the crowd grew suddenly silent in anticipation, for there was the Fairy Queen herself in the very bottom of the little dell, upon the rising sides of which her followers and allies were seated on every side. Said she in delight, "you have all done very well, we have gathered much data and scouted out the area in question without the locals discovering that anything is other than we would have it appear. Soon we will be able to actually put our grand scheme into action, and when we have succeeded, men will be but the myth and we the reality in this onetime stronghold of the mortal race!" There was much excited chatter at this, but someone ran to the lady and interrupted further grand prognostications to pass along some vital message, which did nothing to put her into a cheery frame of mind.

Roared she at the gathered minions, "who has broken my strict mandate not to manhandle, maim, or otherwise interfere with the locals?"

The she-goblin screeched eagerly, "nay Highness, it is nothing of the sort! I bring you a gift! The very chief of the men hereabouts! And that traitorous little imp who has sought shelter in the creature's house!"

"Come forward," said the Queen grimly, causing Iris to shudder in dread, but in nowise fazing her goblin companion. They and their captives were pushed forward by the anxious crowd of creatures, wanting nothing whatsoever to do with the fools and whatever punishment the Queen would likely mete out.

"You ridiculous fools!" scorned the Lady, once she had looked over captives and captors alike, "have you any idea how dangerous this is?"

"I'm sure we can arrange things to look perfectly ordinary, milady," protested the goblin, "none needs know anything out of the ordinary is happening in this sleepy little district."

"It is not of that I am wary," said the Queen coldly, frigid as a winter midnight that shatters the very stones in its grasp. She eyed the vampire stonily, "of what are we leery, bloodsucker? Your people are ever being hounded and harassed by these very pests, so much so that you have a peculiar name for them, well?"

"The Bloodless!" spat Iris, in a perfect display of vampiric disgust.

The Queen glared at her, "and why would you involve yourself in a plot sure to bring them upon us?"

"We did not pause to think, madam," said Iris honestly; the goblin, staring daggers at her seeming betrayal, silently promised that if she survived the Queen's ire, the goblin would take matters into her own claws. Iris flashed her fangs in warning and the irate creature actually cowered back in fear, eliciting a much pleased smile on the would-be vampire's part.

"And now what is to be done?" growled the Queen, "every moment we keep these creatures here means your precious Bloodless might just show up to rescue them and destroy our plans! Take them and be gone, and consider yourselves likewise banished from all aspects of our plot and the Wood itself!"

"No Mistress!" begged the goblin, ripping the magnificent dress with her grasping claws as she pled for mercy, a crime perhaps even more heinous than disobeying a direct order on a covert mission for the Fairy Queen.

The Queen looked down in disgust upon her ruined gown and snarled, "kill them all!"

Iris's only concern now was the imperiled and helpless imp, she tried to hasten to his side to do something, anything, to keep him from being hacked to bits by the overly zealous crowd hoping to please the Queen with their efficiency, but sadly found herself in just such dire straits herself. It is very difficult to save someone else from such a messy fate when one's own person has suddenly been reduced to so much ghastly carrion.

"Now," said her Majesty, once the messy details had been attended to, especially the matter of her ruined Third Best Dress, but happily she had a spare, a lady of breeding always did!, "back to business!"

Some hours later, in the wan grey mists before dawn, a silent figure ghosted through the gloom, in search of she knew not what. She found the hidden dell and could tell some great affair had been held there just a few hours prior, but now it sat silent and cold as all the rest of the waiting world, impatient for the sun's embrace. She wrinkled her nose in disgust at all that remained of the gathering, save the trampled ground and a plethora of very odd tracks. Having no idea who or what the pile of carrion might have been, she touched it with a glowing hand in hopes of finding out.

Uncle Lou sat there in his dressing gown, blinking in the dim predawn, but Iris was on her feet in a moment, anxiously searching for the poor imp, but there was no sign of him. "What is it?" asked Mildred gently, seeming to sense the child's deep disquiet.

Said she quietly, "the imp?!"

Mildred shook her head sadly, "I am sorry dear, if he met the same fate as the rest of you, there's no bringing him back."

"But..." sniffed she, "it just isn't fair!"

"No, child, it is not," sang a voice from the branches overhead, as every eye turned to gaze upon Him whom they loved most, though only a little bird could they see, black in the whelming gloom, "but one day all wrongs will be righted and injustice not even a memory, but until then, at least as long as you choose to tread mortal soil, such pain, grief, and sorrow will accost you at every turn." He cocked his head in query, "can you serve still?"

She fell to her knees with a sob, sighing from her heart, "yes, Lord."

Said He gently, lighting on her shoulder and catching a wayward tear with His bill, "just because evil things happen, child, does not mean I have forgotten or forsaken you. Even the worst things in this world can be used for good, even if you cannot see or understand it. My will will be accomplished, no matter how hard the forces of darkness fight against or try to thwart it, but sometimes things must grow dark indeed before the dawn, but ever I am with you. You must trust your friend to My care, even as you have trusted yourself."

She looked up hopefully, but He was gone, but His hope and peace were not. She stood and Mildred put a comforting hand on her shoulders, leading her aside for a moment, said she, "this will not be the first casualty of war, child. But you need not grieve the fate of those who die in our Master's service, indeed, you might well envy them, for they are beyond all this war and evil and grief."

Iris smiled sadly, "I begin to think I do not mourn so much for my friend as for myself in having to go on without him."

Mildred smiled in spite of herself, "you are learning wisdom indeed, child. Just remember that this parting is but temporary, one day such partings will be a thing of myth, not a daily misery of a broken world."

"You may make a thoughtful woman out of me yet, milady!" grinned Iris through her tears.

"You'll make a grand one at that too," said her uncle encouragingly, but ruined the sentiment by adding, "in a thousand years or so." Neither lady deigned to laugh at such an atrocious attempt at a joke.

After the ensuing awkward silence, for Uncle Lou at least, Aunt Mildred continued in her usually brisk style, "now what is to come of our plans?" She eyed the man sternly, as if this were somehow of his own doing, "you at least cannot be seen alive by any of those creatures that gathered here last night but neither will it go well with the district if you simply vanish without a trace or are found dead in your bed."

"Just send him off somewhere to recover from an acute attack of the gout," said Iris, rolling her eyes in feigned exasperation at resolving such a simple social mess, "and have word eventually reach the district that it proved a fatal case at the opportune time."

He chuckled heartily, "all those years amidst the social uppity-ups certainly did you no harm, lass!"

"I might make a woman out of her," grinned Mildred, "but they've made a general out of you, me dear!"

"I'd rather be a spinsterly Aunt," protested Miss Iris.

But Mildred shook her head grimly, "sorry, that post is taken, you'll just have to develop your own unique persona with which to scare and scandalize the rank and file." Growing serious, she continued, "well, there's the fate of our dearly departed squire, now what of the man himself?"

Uncle Lou suddenly shifted into Uncle Lee, his brother whom no one had seen in years and Iris only vaguely remembered seeing once as a child, but someone needed to take the reins of the estate and it was certainly a believable transition, so after a sharp nod from Mildred, Lee accompanied them back to the ramshackle old house. In parting she said, "we must find out what they are up to; whatever it is, action on their part is imminent and we must not let them accomplish anything irreversible." They both nodded their understanding before returning to the house through the same doors by which they had exited the night before.

"I'm going to miss the lad," sighed Uncle Lou or Lee, or whoever he was at the moment, to Iris as she shut the parlor doors and glanced sadly about the familiar room, "he's been of great help about the estates, not to mention a merry companion and comrade in arms."

"Thank you, sir," said the man, or rather imp, himself, as he stepped out from behind a concealing sofa, the furniture only slightly taller than the imp in question.

"But how?!" said Iris in delight, scooping the rapscallion up in her arms and squeezing him tight in a most unladylike display.

"It seems there are now seven of us," grinned he like morning itself, "I did not think it possible, thinking it solely the province of men, but what do I know!"

"Well," said Iris, having put him down that he might resume a more respectable manner, "you can't be yourself anymore, at least not here and now." She then introduced him to Uncle Lee, whereat he grinned as if he just might be mad, but more likely it was just from being really, really, really excited combined with being of impish descent.

"What on earth are you so excited about?" asked she in wonder, only to smile just as insanely in her own turn, for suddenly he was a very tall man.

"I've always wanted to be taller," grinned the no longer impish imp, and adding, "Uncle Lee will certainly bring his own man with him, I'm sure, since none of the resident servants are like to know his rather odd ways."

"As to that," grinned Iris excitedly, "I don't have to be a vampire or a housemaid anymore!"

"We don't need another idle young person of breeding to laze about the house and countryside at their leisure," cautioned Uncle Lee.

"No," said Iris, "rather we should host a ball to celebrate your arrival."

"What?" said the scandalized Uncle, "Uncle Lou would never approve!"

"But Uncle Lee would," said she, fluttering her eyelashes and smiling sweetly, "besides Uncle Lou is dead, done in by the gout!"

"It might be a happier fate at that," groaned Uncle Lee, eyeing his valet stonily, "go waken the house and get the party started, you heard the lady!" With an impish grin, off he dashed with all the eagerness of a man new to his duties. Uncle Lee eyed the eagerly grinning Iris, "what are you about, lass?"

"I only wish I knew, sir," said she with a wondering shake of her head, "but you must invite the Fairy Queen and her assorted minions."

"Certainly," said he, suddenly as eager as the lady, but for a reason neither of them could begin to fathom.

The province was in uproar, not that the former foremost gentleman had vanished in the night due to a sudden and suspicious case of a much abused illness, but rather that the new proprietor was having a ball; there had not been such a festivity in the rangy house since the man's father was a lad, therefore nobody was in possession of the requisite fancy duds needed for so great a gala since no one was in the habit of hosting a reason to keep up with Fashion. It was a panic of pandemic proportions, affecting every female in the district, at which the menfolk could only scratch their heads and try to keep out of the way, lest they be trampled or lectured for their insensitivity.

"Well my dear," said Uncle one evening at dinner a few days after the invitations had gone out, "you have certainly caused such a stir in the district as I have never before seen or even heard of; had you announced this invasion of Things publically, I doubt the reaction would be very much different."

"And what is wrong with that?" mused Miss Iris, "every field needs to be plowed now and again if it is to remain fruitful; it will do these small-minded and comfortable folk good to be rousted out of their perpetual rut, worn deep by generations doing nothing but what every father's father has done since time immemorial."

"But over a ball?" said Gentleman the First, with a grave shake of his head.

"An invasion of Things certainly wouldn't suffice," countered the Second, "for they would hardly believe it."

Said Uncle pensively, "can Things appear as they truly are to mortal eyes?"

"Yes," said the rather impish sheep, or was that a rather sheepish imp?, however the case may be, "you've heard my tale of gallivanting under the stars, but I failed to mention one slight detail, in my audacity, I intentionally failed to veil my true form from any passersby, hoping to scare a few of them silly or otherwise get a thrill, or at least a few laughs, out of it."

"Do you think they'd come to the ball?" asked Iris.

"You did send them a very proper invitation, milady," returned the imp, "it would be quite rude if they didn't, especially as they are certainly in the neighborhood, and while the Queen and her faction are no doubt ruthless, coldhearted, and power hungry, she does try to be polite."

"She does at that," grinned Iris predaciously, remembering her first encounter with the Lady of the Wood. "As it is a masque ball," mused she, "do you think the Fairyfolk might also unmask at the appointed hour?"

"An intriguing idea," agreed Gentleman the Second, "from what you said of their meeting, it sounds like they plan on moving into the neighborhood; what better way to introduce themselves to the neighbors?"

"Or frighten them into moving away," countered the First.

"What think you, madam?" asked Iris of the general, invited most particularly to stay with the family until after the ball, which was obviously given in her honor, because officially it wasn't. Most of the neighbors had already determined that there would be no moving out, as a wedding would no doubt follow the ball in swift succession, which was quite providential, as it meant all and sundry would have a reason to wear their hastily assembled frippery at least one more time before it was relegated to the dustbin of history, as no doubt it would be hideously out of fashion within a fortnight. This was the only solace the various widows, maiden aunts, and rapacious mothers of at least one unmarried daughter could find in the entire matter.

"It's utterly ridiculous from one end to the other," said she solemnly, before breaking into a wide grin, "and therefore should succeed quite splendidly; well done, all of you!" After they had a chance to exchange happy grins at her approbation and had settled into a more tenable state of benign delight, she continued, "we've tried to discover the plot on their terms, now it is our turn to pay the piper and call the tune! If nothing else, our Lady of the Wood cannot resist the social event of the century or allow her spies and allies to miss it either, just in case something of note actually happens, unlikely but you never know."

After dinner, Iris asked Mildred to step aside for a quiet conversation, alone. "What is it dear?" asked that very unmilitary lady.

"Shall I go as myself to the ball?" asked Iris.

"That is an excellent question," said Mildred, wondering vaguely why she hadn't thought of it herself! Reining in her wandering thoughts, she began to list off the facts, "the Lady was your mother-in-law, even if you never met the creature at the time or until well after the fact, so even if you were unaware of her identity, she was in nowise ignorant of yours. As soon as you were cast adrift, I assume you and your fate mattered nothing to her as your involvement in all this was a mistake on her part, the swifter forgotten the better. She likely knows nothing of your current occupation, for our encounter with the Queen was accomplished in quite a different guise. And you have been going about as your original physical self since your arrival here, so to change it suddenly would certainly discomfit your mortal acquaintance. It is quite acceptable for the longtime owner of the estate to be replaced by his mysterious brother quite literally overnight, but for his visiting niece to suddenly vanish or change her hairstyle or anything so extraordinary would certainly cause even more strife in an already antsy populous."

She grinned like a wolf scenting sheep, "I believe it will be quite delightful to attend as yourself; I hope to see her face when she realizes just who is hosting this little party! Usually the identity of individual mortals is of no concern to such folk, much as you or I aren't much bothered about distinguishing one sheep or chicken from another, so I do not believe any of her spies have made the connection between this plot and her son's unfortunate marriage."

"I'm glad you are on our side," said Iris in wonder.

Mildred chuckled lightly, "don't be ridiculous child, each of us are on the Master's side or we aren't, there can be no other."

"I'm glad you serve Him then," corrected Iris.

"I could have been quite a bane to the forces of good," said Mildred grimly, "but happily that is not the case, and if I might be allowed to be momentarily selfish, especially for me!"

"Indeed," agreed Iris, with a shiver of dread and relief for her own sake, "a grim thought indeed to think what might have happened else."

"We need not dwell on the 'what ifs' and the 'might bes,'" said Mildred, "only what is and what was and what must be."

"Good," said Iris with a wicked smile, "we still have a lot of planning and preparation to accomplish for the ball of the century and I'm not about to let the gentlemen do any of it."

"While I detest this sort of thing as needless inefficiency," said Mildred with a sigh of resignation, "I do believe you have never had a more brilliant plan." At Iris's questioning look, she added with a sly grin, "letting the men nowhere near the decorating. I do believe you have singlehandedly averted a disaster of apocalyptic proportions." She grimaced in disgust as Iris handed her a wad of bunting, before amending, "well, with a little help from your commanding officer." Then they both got to work, only the thought of the Fairy Queen's surprise keeping them from giving up in despair as they slogged through what might be the most tedious mission of their undoubtedly long and glorious careers.

Said Iris, as they picked out a color palette for the affair, "to think this was the peak of my social aspirations not so long ago!"

"As a wizened philosopher once told me," smirked the Aunt, "sometimes we all need to be run over with a plow from time to time."

"Certainly an odd paraphrase," grinned Iris, "but point taken."

"I suppose you never thought you'd go so swiftly from slaying a minotaur to perfectly arranging millions of daisies in preparation for a ball in honor of your uncle's impending marriage?" asked that rascal of an aunt.

Iris laughed, "did I not go from a very prim and proper lady to homeless waif to sword-wielding maniac in equally quick succession? Easy come, easy go, milady!"

"I suppose I am one to talk," smiled Mildred ruefully, "I'm supposedly the ranking officer around here and I've likewise been demoted to doing the drudgery reserved for new recruits in any sensible military organization."

"Our line of work is hardly sensible," laughed Iris outright at the very idea, "and certainly not predictable."

"A truer word was never spoken," agreed the Aunt heartily, "and right glad am I of that very fact, else I might as well just stay home and knit."

Iris eyed her curiously, "and have you spent time with the Quilting Circle at that odd House?"

The resulting smile hinted at all sorts of things but refused, even upon pain of death, to say anything outright, the lady only added, "we all get our chance to see what life and eternity might be like should we wish to change our minds, but each person's experience is truly their own and hardly to be comprehended by another living soul."

After a lengthy, pensive silence, Iris remarked, "it is a very good thing the servants are occupied elsewhither, they'd certainly find all this philosophic jibber-jabber quite as tedious as we find making festoons and discerning exactly how many dainty cakes to provide lest there be want or waste."

"But at least they can do the majority of the work once we finalize the plans," said Mildred, "one must learn to delegate the lesser tasks that others can do if one is to apply one's own particular skills to those tasks which most require it."

"Which is why you are here hanging garlands alongside me?" asked Iris cheekily.

"You were quite correct in assuming this was no duty for the menfolk," retorted my lady of Aunts.

"They had best be up to something equally tedious then," said Iris dolefully, "but why are we putting so much effort into something that is merely a sham?"

Mildred shook her head grimly, "for if something is to be believed it must be more real than the real thing."

"Are you trying to turn me into a general overnight?" mused Iris. There was that horrid smile again, enigmatic and smug all at the same time. Maybe that's all there was to leadership: mastering that annoying smile? Now there was food for thought indeed!

"We must get out of the house," said Uncle L., "it doesn't matter where we go or what we do, but the women are starting to plot and plan, dabble and decorate; it isn't any place for a man."

And as one, they dutifully left the house that had suddenly taken on all the rush and urgent sense of busyness more usually found in a hectic hospital during some pandemic medical crisis. In this case discretion was indeed the better part of valor. So they joined all the other displaced husbands and sons out-of-doors, where they might safely shelter from the suddenly distressed womenfolk of the district, whom the ball had turned acutely mad, one and all.

"I suppose we might as well go for a ride," proposed Squiff.

"We've nothing better to do," agreed Gentleman II.

Grimaced the First, "as long as it does not entail lawn games, I am sport."

At this strange outburst, his Second translated, "he spent much of his mortal life in just such pursuits, indeed, I believe they were quite the end of him."

"Croquet balls are quite heavy and not meant for aerial sports," protested the First, but he would tell no more of the tale, leaving his listeners to smile in amusement or scratch their heads in wonder, but not another word as to his grim fate seemed to be forthcoming, so they did the sensible thing and started walking towards the stable. Of one accord they seemed to agree that this outing should not involve any of the Queen's agents, thus they all set out on top of the line but run of the mill horses.

They gadded randomly about the countryside, noticing various Things busy everywhere with picks, shovels, and burlap bags of what must be some sort of strange seeds. Uncle frowned after their observation of a third group of assorted Things similarly employed, said he in consternation, "it's midsummer! What could they be planting now?"

As excited as the imp was to ride a real horse, rather than to gallivant about aback a wretched little pony, the efforts of the Woodfolk certainly caused him much disquiet on what would otherwise have been an exhilarating ride. They rode on a bit further, well out of earshot of anyone outside the little band of horsemen, and he said quietly, "I do not like the look of this gentlemen, for they are planting seeds native to the Wood in your wide and fertile land."

"I don't understand," said Uncle.

"They are trying to physically expand the Wood," mused Gentleman the First.

"A most ingenious plan," agreed the Second, "but can they?"

The imp shook his head, "I do not know, botany was never a subject that much interested me, especially when you try to transplant something magical into mortal soil. Perhaps it will transform your prosaic soil into an isolated part of the Wood or maybe it will merely grow a rather impressive tree, but still nothing but a mortal tree for all its splendor."

"An ingenious plan if it works," grinned Squiff, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully, "if it does work, how fast do these trees grow and can they be destroyed or at least controlled?"

"I don't know," said the imp, "the trees in the Wood just are. They don't really grow or change or die, just like the denizens thereof."

"It sounds a rather dreadful existence," said Uncle in dismay.

"Things do change," amended the Second Gentleman, "but so slowly, to mortal reckoning they never change at all. Just like the growth of a massive tree: you would not notice the change if you sat and watched it, but only if you left for a very long time and then returned."

The imp nodded eagerly, "that is a much better way to say it, thank you my friend. I did not mean to imply things were eternally static, but that compared to your mortal idea of change and growth, it is very slow indeed. To break a bad habit or learn a new skill in the Wood might well take generations, at least by the reckoning of men."

"Whatever comes of it," said the First, "we had best inform the General."

"It's your head," grinned the Second, "I thought we rode out today simply to give her the time and space she needs to attend to the vital matter that thus occupies her; nothing can be of more import than that, can it?"

"I'll take my chances," retorted the First, "she'd like as not take my head for withholding this information longer than I must."

"We might as well," shrugged Uncle, "it seems we are dead either way."

Squiff and the imp looked rather uncomfortable, at which the others laughed and Lou translated, "easy lads, one of these centuries you'll eventually understand women, well, at least as much as any man can." They did not look in the least bit comforted, eliciting a laugh from all and sundry.

"It's a very dangerous game you play, gentlemen," said said Mildred, with a face like stone, when the men traipsed in to give their report. What with seeing her with sleeves rolled up to the elbows, a hideously out of fashion apron over her drab dress, and her head all wrapped up in a kerchief to keep her hair out of the matter, it was nearly a capital offense. She saw Gentlemen I and II grinning knowingly at one another and could only sigh, they knew her well, perhaps too well, which would not do at all, not in the least!

"As to your observation," mused she, losing all trace of feigned grimness, "that is most curious indeed, but you needn't have bothered me with the matter until you had more information yourselves; do I look like a Professor of Magical Botany?" She glanced at her current getup, perhaps she did indeed, one currently on a field study!

They looked at her blankly and she merely glanced at Iris, who grinned and pulled forth her books of Natural History, handing them genially to the men, who no doubt had their own copies in a forgotten pocket, if only they'd remember it! With some self-conscious muttering, they withdrew from the distressing scene, whether more to themselves or the ladies, they knew not, nor could the books answer that particular question. The Gentlemen, I-V, retreated to the library for some remedial education whilst the ladies continued their own feats that would never be remembered in song or story, mostly because any poet or bard worth his salt knew better than to intrude upon such a valiant quest, lest they be asked to help!

Squiff studied the books curiously, only having seen them once and that but briefly, eager to know how to use them. At his eager study of the tomes, Gentleman I said, "all you need is the right question, lad, then the book does the rest."

"And if you lack the appropriate question?" asked Uncle.

"You could read them from cover to cover, or until you fall asleep, usually somewhere in the D-section, but you really wouldn't accomplish much," replied the First.

"Save perhaps a headache or a nice nap," added the Second.

"Lovely," sighed the imp, "so how is one to find the Question?"

"Not The Question," corrected One, "the question. The Question, to life, the universe, and everything, has already been answered; we need only worry about the question of the moment." He glanced hopefully at the gigantic books, "in this case, can the trees native to the Fairy Wood grow in mortal soil?"

The book on Supernatural History happily flipped to the correct page while its less interesting brother sat sulking on the edge of the table, ignored and unappreciated. Read Uncle Lou aloud, "the seeds of plants native to the Fairy Wood and other magical locations can only germinate in equally magical soil."

"That's a relief then," grinned Squiff, but his Uncle hadn't finished.

Continued the interrupted narrator, "any land legally owned by a denizen of the Wood automatically acquires the necessary traits."

"Oh dear," said Uncle, "we had best inquire into the current ownership of those particular plots!"

Of Plots and Plots

So did the gentlemen ride forth once more, this time with something to do, which must make it an adventure, perhaps of the least sort, but an adventure nonetheless, and thereby proved they were not true gentlemen, at least as the Standards saw it. Uncle Lou knew all there was to know about the surrounding countryside and valiantly led the way, stopping at the nearest neighbor's house to inquire of the Things he had seen digging that morning in one corner of the man's smallest hay meadow.

They caught the gentleman at tea in the garden, and found him rather aghast at such an interruption, especially considering the numbers, for in those days it was considered polite to invite the entire party to tea, including any horses or small, nasty dogs in the company's possession, if they happened upon you at such a delicate and vulnerable moment. But happily they declined, for the very appropriate reason that the ladies of their company were not present, and it would be quite rude to leave them out of such enjoyment as would obviously ensue, especially when they were themselves involved in a very tedious and grueling sort of task.

So it happened that Uncle Lee merely inquired of his much relieved neighbor as to the goings on in his back pasture. "Ah!," said he, "I merely sold a little plot to a fellow intent on studying the lives of an obscure sort of dung beetle he says lives out that way. He paid me handsomely for it and promised to leave it in even better shape than he found it."

"Thanks much, old bean," said Uncle, as he galloped off towards the next land owner he meant to question, who told him much the same thing, except this time it was a lady and she was digging for gold, and so on for each of a dozen neighbors around the district. Each had sold a very small plot, for a very tidy sum, for some innocuous purpose to a complete stranger and thought no more of it, save to muse upon what they might do with the proceeds.

They knew better than to disturb the ladies this time around, so cloistered themselves in the back parlor to pace and muse and theorize, consulting the great books from time to time or asking the imp if he knew aught of it, but as he protested more than once, "my folk have never been gardeners; that's an entirely different branch of the Woodfolk, I'm afraid."

"Don't even think about asking them," said Two, "that particular race prides itself on its genealogy too, even more so than their prodigious botanical knowledge, or so I believe. Any discussion with them on any topic will invariably turn to their extensive family history, which will make reading both the Natural Histories in their entirety seem short and concise by comparison."

"Which is why they live way off by themselves in a forgotten corner of the Wood," chuckled the imp, "none dares live within a two day walk of the creatures: too dangerous!"

"I don't suppose we could buy back the property," said Squiff with a sigh, "and if they refuse to sell, it rightfully belongs to them, and..."

"Those seeds they are busy planting will soon sprout into a young wood of the Fairy sort," finished Uncle grimly, but added hopefully, "but what are a few, scattered copses after all?"

Gentleman the Second shook his head gravely, "you do not understand the physics of the Fairy Wood." Here he glanced at the Supernatural History and it eagerly complied, the other having given up and gone home to Iris's pocket.

As Lou read over the entry, his brow furrowed in concern, said he in paraphrase, "the Wood is all connected, even a single tree in a distant location is enough to allow Woodfolk easy access to the area, time and space are quite mutable within its confines."

"They merely need to wish to be in a certain place or time within the Wood and that's where they'll find themselves," added the First Gentleman.

"So an army of Things could easily invade the province," said Uncle, "or perhaps simply an influx of Things might be enough to frighten the locals off, and then they can acquire the rest of the land by conquest or abandonment and transform it likewise into another Wood."

"That is likely their plan," agreed the imp, "but how do we counter it?"

"Are we to counter it?" mused the First Gentleman.

"What do you mean?" asked Squiff in wonder, "is it not our role to see that Things and mortals don't cause one another undue strife?"

"No," said the First, "wherever one will rubs against another there will inevitably be friction, such is the way of this broken world but in nowise do we interfere in every matter, only in those where the parties are ill-matched in that one is at a hopeless disadvantage to the other. If it is merely an honest dispute over territory, and it is pursued in a legal and peaceful manner, we cannot interfere, no more than we could fight in the wars of men or throw down a tyrant from his throne. Those issues must be resolved in a more traditional fashion. If the Fairyfolk marched forth en masse to conquer the mortal world, we would certainly be called upon to thwart their efforts, but if it is merely a fight over property, especially if they mean to proceed in a perfectly legal manner, we cannot become involved."

"From what the Lady Iris said of her experience during the Queen's Council," said the Second, "I believe that is exactly what the Queen wishes, for she was quite adamant that their actions not bring us into the matter."

"So what are so many of us doing here?" asked the imp in perplexity, "if it is not a matter of concern to us?"

"Perhaps her Ladyship isn't as committed to doing this legally as she might otherwise pretend?" proposed Squiff.

"Or is there something else going on," said Uncle Lee grimly, "something all of us have missed, perhaps even the Woodfolk themselves have overlooked?"

Said the First Gentleman in dread, "we have no choice; we must take this to the ladies!"

Said the General, when her henchmen fell upon her again, "you are either very foolish or desperate, and I am not sure which is a worse trait for a Messenger to possess. What is it this time?" The First told everything that had been discovered and postulated.

"Well," said that grim aunt with a satisfied smile, "I see it is neither, well done, gentlemen, exceedingly well done." She glanced back at her half finished preparations and nodded grimly, "it is time to delegate." Iris sighed in relief, nodded to the housekeeper, who tried to suppress an eager grin beneath benign indifference, and both ladies hastened away from the seemingly endless task, bequeathing all that remained to the household staff, who had been hoping for just that all along, as things always took thrice as long when the master or his tried to interfere.
"Now," said that little bird of a general, once they regrouped in the back parlor and the ladies returned their visage to something less irregular, "how are we going to discover what is truly going on?"

Iris shook her head, "infiltrating the Woodfolk rank and file has availed nothing."

The Second spoke, "scattering abroad and making observations has yielded just as little."

"I believe the Ball is the key," said the Aunt, "but I also feel there are more surprises waiting than those we hope to spring on the Fairy Queen or she upon us. Perhaps we need to forget about Things for the moment, I want everyone to scatter abroad and see what they can find without being found." The neophytes stared at her blankly, but the two Gentlemen each raised a glowing hand and touch the other's shoulder, both vanishing in a blinding flash. Mildred turned towards the others, all of whom were gaping like yokels who had never seen a City before, she raised a quizzical brow but did not speak. They exchanged rueful grins and did likewise for one another, leaving Mildred alone in the back parlor. She suddenly vanished from sight and went to skulk about the house in hopes of finding a clue as to what was really going on lest they all be made fools, or worse, at the imminent ball.

"Everything is progressing according to plan, sir," said the flunky to the darkness, wherein something or someone of the most hideous nature imaginable lurked, but he was not foolish enough to delve deeper into that particular mystery.

"Excellent, most excellent," hissed something out of the shadows, "it has been most amusing to watch all of them flounder about blindly, so afraid of one another that they have missed our meddling entirely! Keep at it, I want this ball to be quite memorable for everyone!" The mocking laughter faded to nothing, as if the scoffer had quickly sped off in the opposite direction, but there was nowhere for it to physically run, this quandary sent a shudder of dread down the minion's spine, not the first such during the short interview.

Squiff crept along the little path to nowhere, he had spent several summers with Uncle and knew well the woods and fields and pasturelands for several miles in any direction from the ancient house, this lane was one he had trod countless times, but this time he wasn't a boy stalking rabbits, his was a far more dangerous prey. He was suddenly aware that while he might occasionally be called upon to warn, rescue, or thwart wayward Woodfolk or mortal men, his main duty was something very different; he must protect the mortal world and immortal Wood both from Something that was quite alien to either, a thing from outside the world, or rather the minions of that particular Enemy in this particular world, for no man or other created being, at least native to this particular world, had the power to fight something from beyond their particular reality. That was the Master's business, and perhaps that of His greater servants from beyond Squiff's current reality.

But the thing he stalked was a Thing indeed, not the strange and varied immortal folk native to the Wood, whom most of his former acquaintance called by that name, or even mortal folk as called by certain Wood-dwellers, rather it once had been just such a creature, whether mortal or immortal at the first little mattered, and had become a Thing, dead but living, alive but dead. Not like the vampires and werewolves, which were once mortal men who sought to become like immortal folk, the result being a somewhat awkward cross between the two. Rather these Things were people who wanted to become like something from beyond their own reality, a thing forbidden since the dawn of time. A vampire or werewolf could still be killed; a true Thing must be destroyed and then destroyed again and again, for it was already dead, and could not die again, for it was trapped in a living death.

The Messengers were the Master's answer to these unnatural creatures that would not die, nor were they in the least hindered by mortal men, while the weapons of an immortal creature might momentarily injure or annoy them, they could only slow them down. The Things sought eternal life, only to find a living death. A Messenger embraced death only to find unending life. Squiff hefted his sword in his hands, smiling grimly at the thought that he only knew the use of the much lighter and far less deadly version used in sparring for sport between modish young men. But if his sister could thwart a minotaur, and she never having held a sword at all, perhaps there was even hope for him.

He froze, for there It was, a skeletal thing, its rotting bones covered in dark mist and ragged cloth, over which it wore dark armor like some warrior out of ancient days. It seemed to sense Squiff's presence, pausing in its steps and turning its ghastly head in the boy's direction, its eyes burning like coals in the depths of its helm. It hissed something in a ghastly tongue and lunged at the boy. There was no time for thought or fear or panic, merely an instinctive plunge into the fray, for it was for this very thing that he had been made, at least at this particular moment in time. He lost himself in the mindless dance of thrust and parry, ever and anon, until the creature was destroyed, or he was.

With an awful scream, the hideous thing fell to dust as Squiff's blade pierced its chest; the boy dropped his sword in shock as his opponent faded away to nothing. He bent to retrieve the weapon, only to find that it had vanished. He grinned sheepishly, remembering that in his current persona, a sword was certainly out of place. The boy straightened from his crouch and grinned broadly, knowing he had bested his first minion of evil, but his triumph was short-lived, for even as he glanced about to make sure nothing else untoward occupied the immediate area, he felt a sharp pain in his back and vanished in a dreadful radiance.

The assassin snarled in pain as the Messenger disappeared, hating that Light above all else, but then it smiled cruelly as it sheathed its dagger, always enjoying a chance to turn triumph into defeat, hope into despair. Its master would not be happy to hear the Messengers had discovered something more dreadful than the Woodfolk were dabbling in this affair, but it could not be helped, the wretched creatures ever meddled where they were least wanted. But even so, the Ball would prove his dread master's superior cunning in playing one side against the other, and if all went as planned, war between the Forest-dwellers and Mankind was imminent. He laughed vilely and went in search of someone else to stab in the back.

Iris was surprised to find a coach and four parked out front of the great house as she walked up the tree lined avenue leading to the main entrance, but as she neared the vehicle, she was even more astonished to find it her own. Out jumped her brother, all aflutter in a strange mixture of excitement and embarrassment, so much so that she couldn't understand a word he said for several minutes, until at last he caught his breath and mastered his thoughts, saying, "a Thing, I defeated a Thing!"

Iris was in nowise silly enough to ask what sort of Thing, for there were Things and Things, or rather things and Things, and he was certainly excited about the latter. She pulled out her favorite book, leaving the other to sob in her pocket, and asked after Things, the book only too happy to comply. And there it was, or rather they were, for it seemed there was quite an assortment to choose from with grim warriors, sly sneaks, and evil mages being predominant.

"Certainly more vile than a minotaur," said Miss Iris with a shudder, glancing at where the carriage should have been she asked, "what happened to you?"

He looked at the entry again and nodded, "I was stabbed in the back, it must have been one of those sneaky buggers. I vanished and then reappeared outside that odd House; the coach was waiting so I hopped in."

"I suppose we had best inform the General," said Iris.

"There's no need," said the Aunt herself, coming out the front door to confer with them, "I've taken care of two Things inside the house just now."

"Should we call off the ball?" asked Iris.

"It's too late for that, dear," sighed the little old lady, "it would be a more grievous insult to the Queen than if she's assassinated during the affair."

"The Standards again?!" sighed Iris in dismay, "will we ever be rid of them?"

"Every society needs a standard, dear," lectured my lady the spinster primly, "else society itself would collapse. And as far as Standards go, no one can out-Standard the Fairy Queen and her ilk, for they've been following their own Standards since the dawn of time and will do so until time itself is a memory, unless by some miracle they replace it with something else."

"Sounds like the elves need a good plowing," grinned Iris.

"That sounds rather painful, dear sister," said Squiff with a grimace, "is that some sort of new fad amongst you noble types?"

"Never mind," sighed Iris, as that good aunt laughed uproariously at them both.

Continued Miss Mildred as if she had never lost her composure, "tomorrow night is the Ball; we had best assemble the troops and have our final council." And that's exactly what they did.

"First off," said the little general, pacing before her miniature army in the back parlor turned war room, "the Ball will be a grand success, at least if the decorating has any bearing on such a matter." They all gaped at this odd statement, forgetting their most prominent guest would likely consider it a grievous insult to herself personally if things weren't as Standardish as possible in such a backwater place. Next she added, "and all of you, I believe are aware that the Enemy's minions are on the loose and taking an extreme interest in this otherwise quiet part of the countryside; several of us have dealt with them this very day."

"What are they up to, milady?" asked Uncle Lee and or Lou.

"Fomenting discord between men and the Fairyfolk I would think," said Mistress Mildred.

"Isn't there enough enmity already?" asked the imp.

"Misunderstanding, fear, resentment, and prejudice, certainly," agreed the birdlike little lady, "but not open hostility or even outright war. I believe they are playing both ends against the middle in hopes of fomenting war between mortal men and Fairykind." At this pronouncement, every hand reached for a blade that was not there, whereat they all grinned sheepishly, but their eyes gleamed eagerly, for suddenly they knew she had the right of it and that is why so many of them were gathered in one place, not to police the Woodfolk as they attempted to establish their odd little suburb.

"So what are we to do?" asked Iris hopefully.

"Attend the Ball, of course," grinned Mildred dreadfully, but happily not at any of her minions. Her smile became all amusement as she added, "just make sure you don't get so lost in your dancing that you forget to watch for Things."

"What of those of us who have never yet crossed swords with a Thing?" asked Iris anxiously.

"You just need a bit of practice, my dear," said One, raising a glowing hand, and with a sharp nod from Mildred, he sent the girl off somewhere where she could get just that, doing likewise to each and every neophyte in the room, leaving only the two Gentlemen and their fearless commander, who grinned eagerly and said, "this will be fun, I'm quite looking forward to it!"

"To think you would ever say that about a Ball, madam," grinned the Second.

"Indeed," agreed she, "at least you need never fear I shall say such a thing concerning the preparations in anticipation thereof."

"Quite madam," grinned the First, "shall we ring for tea?"

"Of a certainty," said the Lady, seating herself in anticipation. Thus did they sit at their leisure until the others returned, eager for their own portion thereof and especially to tell of their recent exploits against true Things; it was all very proper, at least for the Messengers.

The evening of the much-feted Ball arrived, everyone was dressed to Standard perfection, which made them all look rather more ridiculous than elegant, mused Iris as she stood with her uncle and brother greeting their guests. She had no trouble Seeing the Queen when she and her retinue walked in, and watched in anticipation as her once-upon-a-mother-in-law approached. She made all the proper courtesies and received theirs in turn, but no other heed or notice did she give as to whether she recognized the girl or not. Sheep indeed!

It was a very impressive gathering of things, with nearly every race and kindred represented, at least of the sort that can appear to be human. Obviously things like griffins and dragons and giants were exempted, as was a particular race fond of genealogy and gardening, in that order, who would no doubt be cheeky enough to approach the Queen herself and thereby risk boring her to death, as if this mortal party wouldn't do just that of itself. But she bided her time, letting her followers mingle and spy as they might, eager for the unmasking, wondering how much of a panic they would cause, especially as that wretched girl whom she had mistakenly forced her son to marry was one of the hosts! It would serve her right to have her grand party turned into a stampede, and perhaps they'd clear the neighborhood thereby and have no further problem in establishing a proper colony of the Wood.

They danced and ate and danced some more, several ladies fainted, most everyone gossiped, and even the Queen managed not to be bored to death, especially when every light in the room suddenly went out. This was not a problem for the majority of the Woodfolk and certainly didn't inconvenience the Messengers, who immediately drew their swords and began searching for Things that might do worse than go bump in the sudden night.

The mortal guests froze in terror, a lady couldn't even properly scream in that stifling atmosphere, so choked was it with utter hatred towards all that yet wore flesh. The Forest-folk were no better off, save most of them could see somewhat in the sudden darkness, but the fear clogging the room seemed to soak right into their very bones. Only the Messengers could move, and they did so with all the intensity of a cat stalking prey, silent and terrible in their movements.

Suddenly there was movement, a furtive figure launched a dagger at the Queen but Iris dodged between the fiend and its prey, vanishing in a brilliant flash while one of the Gentlemen dealt promptly with the villain. Then all was madness, for everywhere there were flashing swords and hideous screams and flashes of light, but no sooner did a Messenger vanish than he or she was returned just as suddenly to the fray by a certain coach that was more efficient at that particular moment than all the cabbies in the City combined. At last the candles flickered back to life and the evil pall lifted like fog dispersed by a sudden gust of wind. The musicians resumed their merry strains and the dancers their steps; the Ball continued as if it had never ceased.

The Queen did manage to make her way through the chaotic mass to where the young hostess stood, chatting idly with what must be her brother and her uncle's betrothed lady, if her spies' gossip was correct. Said she bluntly to the girl, "walk with me please." The girl gave an astonished nod of her head and followed the Lady out into the fresh air of the night dark gardens.

Once they were alone, the Potentate of the Pixies rounded on the girl, "how long have you been like this?"

Iris could not help but grin, glad for the hundredth time that she had never met her mother-in-law, "you mean a Messenger?"

"Yes," hissed the Lady, all menace.

"Since the day your son turned me out on the streets," said Iris quite bluntly.

The Queen relaxed significantly, "so you were not dealing falsely with me or mine?"

"Nay, milady," said the girl, "though I cannot say the same of you towards me!"

"No," sniffed the Queen, "but what is that to me? Your kind are but sheep to us; you live but a day by our reckoning."

"In the mortal world, perhaps," mused Iris, her eyes alight with wondrous things barely glimpsed, to which all sapient souls might be heirs, if they wished it. "But we were made to live forever, just like you, milady," said she, "but first we must taste the bitterness of death."

"A curse and a blessing," said our Lady of the Elves far too quietly, "you escape this world while it is still fresh and new to your ephemeral eyes, before it has grown cold and lonely and stale."

"I never thought of it like that," said Iris thoughtfully.

The Queen smiled maliciously, "perhaps you will come to understand in your own turn."

"No," said Iris with a confidence that defied her youth and inexperience, "Everything is made new and there is ever Joy in the morning, a morning that never fades nor turns to rain."

"We shall see, shan't we?" said the Lady with that cruel smile, but it lacked the conviction it held but a moment prior. "But now it is time for the unmasking," said she coldly, "will you too reveal yourselves?"

Iris frowned at this, not quite understanding what the Queen meant, was this not her true visage, the face she had worn her entire life? But she could muse no longer upon the quandary as Mildred came and took her arm and led her back to where the others stood, awaiting the night's crowning moment. And there they stood, a horde of things, each one so peculiar and strange to mortal eyes that none could say which was the most fantastic. But much to the Queen's disappointment, no one panicked, for though the creatures were certainly odd looking, had they not danced the entire night together? Had they a wish to cause trouble or harm, could they not have done so? Had not something even worse been attempted yet rescue had come? What was this to that?

Said Uncle Lee loud enough for all to hear, "meet your new neighbors! I believe they plan on moving in as soon as possible, so you had best start making their acquaintance." And strangely they did just that, men and Woodfolk began to introduce themselves and talking eagerly together, for whatever their differences, most of them felt much more akin to these strange looking creatures than to whatever it was the darkness hid and they clung to that familiarity as to a lifeline, knowing they were stronger united than apart.

The Queen stormed up to the little party of Messengers, the crowd parting before this astounding personage like water before the bow of a boat. "What is the meaning of this?" grated she, seemingly the only person in the room who had not taken Uncle Lee's advice. Growled she, "mutual understanding? Fellowship! Good cheer?! It is scandalous!"

"Welcome to the suburbs, milady," grinned Uncle Lee momentarily before the entire complement of Messengers vanished in a glorious burst of light, leaving her ladyship to scowl at thin air. With a swish of her magnificent skirts, she flounced from the ballroom and immediately left the district. If her former minions and allies wanted to fraternize with the humans, so be it, but she would have nothing more to do with the idea! The only other detail yet to be neatly resolved that evening was what was to come of the estate with the vanishment of yet another Uncle? The man's will was inspected and the Attorney and Steward both nearly died of apoplexy then and there, for the will stated quite bluntly that the man's heir was none other than a certain scullion, still slaving away somewhere in the depths of the kitchens, but it was quite legal, witnessed by six individuals in triplicate, so there was nothing to be done but grant that the former owner indeed had a flair for the happily ever after.

"Is this really necessary?" mused Lady Iris as the coach bumped along.

"I'm afraid it is my dear," said Aunt Mildred resignedly, "you have an assignment amongst the upper crust of Society, one that won't allow you to comfortably gad about alone as a dowager, therefore you cannot be let loose without proper supervision." Added she with a grim smile, "at least I have extensive experience in the ancient and noble art of Aunting."

"Just how long were you Anastasia's guardian?" asked Iris curiously, "Five minutes would have been far too long for anyone's endurance, but she seemed to imply that you had been her guardian for years!"

"It was very nearly an eternity in itself," grimaced Mildred, as only a Mildred can, "but you never know what will be asked of you in this curious service nor how long that mission will take."

"How did you survive all those years?" persisted Iris.

"It was the only way to shape me into the bold commander I am now," chuckled Mildred, "long years in which to practice perseverance and patience."

"Why are we in this peculiar service again?" smiled Iris dryly.

"A question I then asked myself on an hourly basis, but overall my time has not been ill-spent and I do not regret my choice," said the Iron Lady with a wry smile.

At last the vehicle rattled to a stop and our ladies of intrigue allowed themselves to be handed out of the carriage before a very familiar house, at least to Iris. Said she in consternation, "what are we doing here?"

Mildred could not help but grin, "after our little debacle with the Royal family, the former owner declared he was going on a foreign tour, never to return, and since he had no heir or other family to worry about, the building was put up for sale."

"I suppose there is no sense in owning a townhouse if one is likely never to be in town," grinned Iris in vast amusement, "especially when one's mother is the Queen of the Fairies, a mortal townhouse, no matter how magnificent, must pale in comparison to whatever one is used to back home." "So what of the new owners?" added Iris eagerly, already guessing some of the tale.

"A young lady of vast wealth from the outer provinces," said Mildred dully, as if she were the housekeeper giving some nosy tourists the regular tour, "she has no family to speak of, save an elderly Aunt."

"And has come to town to seek a worthy alliance," finished Iris by rote, "at least I don't have to pose as a vampire posing as a housemaid!"

"You will do stranger things yet, my dear," promised Miss Mildred.

"I knew you were going to say that too," sighed Iris, "tell me something I don't know."

"There is a particular man you should be setting your cap at," said Mildred.

"I've always despised that saying," said Iris, "what does it even mean?" She held up her hands to forestall a reply, amending, "I know what it means, but I meant why does it mean that?"

"Who can fathom the genius of the aristocrats?" smiled Mildred dryly.

Iris sighed in relief, "I thought you were going to say it was another result of elfin genius."

"Nothing that ridiculous is of elvish make, dear," replied Mildred, "elves are many things, but never silly."

"That truly makes me pity them," said Iris sadly.

"It is part of the curse of living forever in a broken world," said Mildred, "we were not made for such misery, but neither must we endure it if that is not our wish."

Iris frowned, "why am I allowed to pay court to a certain gentleman? It is not as if we are allowed to marry."

Mildred shrugged, "orders, but you are correct, you cannot marry the fellow or even become engaged to him, but perhaps we will learn the reason ere all is done, though sometimes we don't either."

"How vexing," said Iris.

"Not knowing the reason or not getting engaged?" queried Mildred.

"Both," said Iris dryly, "but the engagement period was the most fun I had during the entire ordeal."

"It isn't as if you need to secure a decent man simply to ward off poverty," laughed Mildred, doing a terrible job impersonating an ancient Aunt, for they, like elves, had no sense of humor.

"So you are saying I can just go to parties and be myself and enjoy the evening without threats of utter ruin and destitution hanging over my head the entire time? It sounds very much like being engaged! Now if only I get to learn the reason as well..." She trailed off as she trailed after her guardian, as the Lady had had enough of standing about gabbing on a public street and was hastening into the house, whether the conversation was over or not.

A real person stood beside the door, holding it open for his mistress, before excusing himself to see to the baggage. Iris watched this astounding display curiously, but said nothing until she and the Aunt were alone in the parlor, the third best of course, for the daily use of the family. Mildred smiled mirthfully, again betraying her assumed identity, "wondering about the servants and why sometimes they are real and at other times are merely phantoms?" Iris nodded and milady the Aunt waxed on, "any business that is likely to be dangerous or sensitive usually involves mere phantoms, such as your coachman and the servants in your service as the Dowager. Here there will likely be little danger and nothing of interest to a gossiping servant."

"How tedious," sighed Iris, already well accustomed to the contrary, as if it were as necessary a part of the day as tea and breathing.

"I said here," corrected Mildred, "I did not mean this entire mission would be thus, only that which happens at home."

"Quite," agreed Iris, "nothing of note could happen anywhere a mildewed old Aunt is in residence; she'd set the violator down so hard he'd never go out into public again for fear of encountering another Aunt."

"We are quite a terrifying sort of creature," agreed Mildred cheerily, proving she was no such Thing.

His Lordship's Night Out

Lord Mulligan paced up and down before the blazing fire in his study, deep in thought, for he was powerful and famous and rich, yet still he was unfulfilled. He wanted more, of what he could not say, but he desired it with all his being; there must be more to life than this! But what? Just then a timid knock sounded upon the door, for a moment drawing him back from his futile and troubling thoughts, a welcome relief indeed. "Come," he said with an indifferent scowl, uneager to plunge back into the seemingly bottomless abyss of his own musings, but knowing it was probably only another invitation to some mindless societal function he would likely tear up and throw into the fire. Wait, mindless? Yes, perhaps that was the answer, if he just quit thinking about such things, perhaps it would save him from despair, madness, or worse.

He took the dainty envelope with its elegant wax seal in hand, studying it as he might some delicate bird he had never before seen yet that he might crush with a single movement of his hand. Within might lie the answer to all his vain ponderings, or at least it might prove a very welcome distraction therefrom. He tore it open, much astonishing the waiting servant, though he tried valiantly to hide his surprise under a veneer of bland indifference, as his Lordship actually read the missive. "Tell them I shall come," said he, glancing over the invitation, "respond in Standard fashion."

The man bowed and hurried away to do just that, leaving his master to grin in grim amusement, perhaps there was more to this tedious life than he had anticipated. Perhaps there was even someone worth meeting at such an insignificant gathering. He had spoken with every major lord and minor noble and found them to a man the most dull and tedious people alive, as if the Standards required it; come to think of it, perhaps they did! What did he want out of life? What could fill that dreadful ache in his soul, if man was even possessed of such a trinket? No! He would not go down that tiresome path again, forever retreading the same worn ground. He would go to his room and decide what to wear to dinner, perhaps an even more tiresome ritual, but at least more novel.

They had not been in the house more than fifteen minutes when the first invitation arrived, inviting them to dinner at a fashionable residence in approximately two hours and nine minutes, a barely acceptable amount of time for a young lady of breeding to prepare for such an auspicious gathering, but it was unthinkable to eat even a quarter of an hour later, the Standards very nearly forbid it! The ladies exchanged a vastly amused glance before telling the servant they would accept and then parting ways to be fussed and fretted over by their very real personal attendants. Iris was missing her soulless maid already, for though she had no need to prepare so for a night out, she couldn't exactly explain that to an actual human person! But the ritual was accomplished, with two minutes to spare, and they were again in the coach being whisked off, adventure bent. Or as much of an adventure as an evening of idle prattle with complete strangers affords.

During the meal, Iris almost fell asleep in her soup, but eventually the meal wearied itself completely and they moved into the second best parlor for cards, music, and idle prattle. As Iris was completely hopeless in either of the first two categories, she resolved to show her proficiency in the third. But there seemed no one free to talk about airy nothings, for one young lady was singing an airy nothing as another plodded out the melody on the piano and the rest of the party seemed engrossed in their hostess' favorite card game. Iris stared forlornly into the fire, determined to wheedle out at least one of its primal secrets ere the evening adjourned in utter failure.

"May I ask you about your chickens, milady?" asked a strange masculine voice.

She had been asked stranger things during the course of her recent adventures and even as a socialite before that, but this seemed downright batty. Chickens? She was supposed to be a wealthy debutante, not a farmer's daughter! She gave the man, a startlingly handsome fellow in a tall and mysterious sort of way, such a peculiar look that he could not help but laugh at her perplexity, the first such she had heard all evening, save the insipid chortling and inane giggles of the society matrons and young ladies, respectively.

He amended once he caught his breath, "forgive me, madam, but I thought all you modish young ladies could not help but keep up with the latest fads; the very latest being designer poultry."

She pretended to smooth her dress to gain a moment to soothe her reeling mind, saying as blandly as she could, "I am afraid I am not up on the latest trends, sir."

"That is the most interesting thing I have heard anyone say all evening," said he, a slight, eager light in his usually grim eyes, "may I pay you a compliment?"

"As long as it has nothing to do with fashion, accomplishments, or beauty," said she, coldly.

He laughed once more, an intoxicating sound, or it would have been had she not been immune to his many charms now that romance was behind her, "you are the most peculiar woman I have ever met."

She could not help but grin merrily at him, "what a lovely compliment."

"And that proves it," said he with a succinct nod of his head.

"That you are still alive?" smiled she in as droll a fashion as she could muster.

"Quite," nodded he.

"If you wish to stay that way," continued she, "you had best beware of Aunt Mildred then."

"Why is every Aunt of my acquaintance named Mildred?" asked he in sudden puzzlement.

"It can be nothing but destiny," agreed Miss Iris, "the guardians of female virtue are fated from birth to pursue their hallowed calling and christened accordingly."

"We had best elope," said that scandalous seeming person who had yet to introduce himself yet who was already proposing marriage, if in a joking fashion.

Iris turned her head away and sniffed pointedly, "sir! You are only after my money!"

"I have plenty for both of us," said he, "but you, milady are quite unique and I would snap you up ere some other man has the sense to do just that."

Said she dryly, one eyebrow quirked quizzically, "do you think any man raised with the Standards in this Society would be that daft? I'm like to die an old maid, save that my name isn't Mildred. I wonder how one goes about changing that?"

"I suppose you do have a point," mused he, "but you must promise to marry no one but me."

"That I can do," grinned she, for she wouldn't be marrying anyone, least of all him.

"I have not had this much..." said he in consternation at his lack of lingual alacrity.

"Fun?" proposed she.

"That's the exact word," smiled he, "I believe they have stricken it from our vocabulary."

"I never trusted Grammar Reform," agreed she grimly.

"What would a Lady know of that?" asked he in wonder, "I did not think a properly bred and educated female ever read anything but the society papers and her correspondence."

"I am only improperly educated," corrected she, "and we won't even begin to discuss genealogy, for that is a subject I detest above al else."

"It is dreadfully out of fashion anyway," agreed he cordially, "it is so last month!"

"Perhaps we should quit talking," observed she, for several of the other denizens of the room were giving them rather odd looks, "lest they be forced to lock us up."

"They are only jealous," said he, rather grimly she thought, "I am the most eligible bachelor in the Realm and hardly ever darken the door of any social event, no matter how important or grand. You are very new to the social scene and they think it very inappropriate of both of us to pay one another the least heed, at least when it means ignoring them and their schemes to somehow benefit from one or the other of us."

"A very astute observation," grinned she, irking the glarers all the more, "but it does not help our cause that we are having a conversation which they cannot even begin to comprehend."

"Yes," agreed he, pity strong in his voice, "the topics of weather and the current fashion in gloves are not something I am comfortable enough to speak on at length with a complete stranger."

"If you tell me your name," smiled she like a feisty cat, "we shall not be strangers."

"I will never tell you my name," said he defensively, "if it means we must speak of either gloves or the weather!"

"I can live with that," nodded she.

"A woman of mercy and sense," nodded he, "I am Lord Mulligan."

"And I am Miss Iris," said she, both giving the proper courtesies, though atrociously late in coming; it might have been the societal scandal of the season if anyone had dared to cross Mulligan or offend the debutante by publishing such a story, but not even the writers of the society papers were that mad.

"Do you play?" asked he, all gentile blandness now that they had been properly introduced.

"Atrociously," smiled she with vim.

"That is not the proper response of a young lady intent on winning a rich husband," retorted he.

"Since that is not my goal," said she, "why must I reply like one? And what would a proper young lady say? And have we not already established that I am in nowise a proper young lady but rather a peculiar one?"

"You must still observe the proper forms or people might start fainting," said he, "it would be an epidemic, and as we have not couches enough for all of them, some might have to occupy the floor and we'd never live it down!"

"Quite," said she, desperately trying not to laugh outright.

"As to the proper reply," continued he, barely holding his own sobriety together, "your response should be, 'not so well as I would like.'"

"Or anyone else for that matter," laughed she, losing all hope of maintaining a sober expression. She donned her most vexing grin and asked, "so you have scads of money?"

"That is a very inappropriate question," countered he, but he held up a hand to forestall her witty retort, continuing, "but not for the reason you assume. Everyone already knows how much money I have, or at least they think they do, such a question is not so much rude as it betrays your ignorance of everything that is truly important in a social setting."

"Why are you not married then?" asked she, without a trace of humor or malice shining in those brilliant eyes.

"I am as peculiar a man as you are a woman," said he quietly, "I could never marry someone I could not respect."

"Noble sentiments indeed," said she, but adding with a villainous smile, "and completely improper, especially when there must be dozens of flighty young females and their persistent mothers dogging your footsteps, hence your voluntary seclusion; I am sorry sir, but you have acted quite the cad towards the beleaguered and lovelorn host."

"As I already asserted, milady," said he with a most amused smile, "I am quite a peculiarity and no prize, despite my fortune, to a proper young lady."

Just then he discovered that epitome of Aunts, certainly the Mildredest of Mildreds, as she approached her current charge and her intriguing companion. Said she without introduction or preamble, "I have been told, sir," said she with a disgusted clearing of her throat but he did not think it was aimed at himself, "by more than half of the ladies present, that you have been consorting with my ward in a most unseemly fashion."

"Indeed I have madam," said he, "my whole personality is quite unseemly and any interaction with me must also be seen as such."

Mildred actually smiled at the fellow, a feat he did not think spinsterly and ancient aunts were capable of, at least not without breaking their face or something equally dreadful resulting, said she, "I was afraid my rather uncivilized charge was to blame, but as it is entirely your fault, carry on as you must, because I am quite enjoying watching them carry on about your carrying on!" She returned to her place to watch the watchers with the greatest delight.

"Your Aunt is quite as astounding a lady as you, my dear," said he in genuine pleasure, "you both must come for lunch tomorrow?"

"We would be delighted," agreed Iris happily.

"Until then, milady, I bid you adieu!" with that, he excused himself from the room and the party, leaving Iris either to sit dully beside her guardian, who was currently beating everyone else silly at cards, and thoroughly enjoying it, or to sit with the other idle young things and talk chicken, if not turkey. Instead she chose to pick up a book.

Suddenly the room was silent as each and every pair of eyes, except Mildred's, for she had eyes only for her cards, stared at the girl's audacity. Iris felt the eyes upon her, not to mention the sudden drop in the room's temperature by a dozen degrees, looking up to see what the problem was, she discovered that it was herself. She glanced at the book, an innocuous title that even a woman of the most Standard type would not be forbidden from paging through, and then looked at the lookers with a rather puzzled frown. Finally Mildred looked up from her cards to discover her ward causing another public scandal, whereat the overly helpful matron beside her said quietly, "doesn't your niece know better than to read at a dinner party? It is quite rude! If Things could read, I am sure even Things would not be so impolite."

"Certainly a curious proposition," agreed Mildred kindly, before playing another card and securing her victory in yet another hand, "I will talk to her about it at length when we get home." The woman's disgusted look was more for her losing streak than for Iris's impropriety or Mildred's lack of concern therewith.

Iris shrugged and returned to her book, discovering their combined powers of disapprobation had failed, the entire party went back to losing badly or proving themselves the most inane of conversationalists. As the coach carried the weary ladies home, weary in spirit rather than physically speaking, Mildred could not help but quip, "you've fixed your character as the most peculiar in the City, if not the Realm, my dear."

"And have attracted Lord Mulligan's interest therewith," smiled she, "perhaps I'll set a trend even more exciting than poultry?"

"I do not believe that would be wholly a bad thing," mused Mildred, "at this rate, Society is about to put itself to sleep indefinitely. I remember these affairs being tiresome, but tonight is the worst I ever endured."

"I thought you were quite enjoying yourself in destroying everyone's aspirations of proving themselves adept card players?" said Iris in some surprise.

"Those faddish chickens could play better than any of those self-important fools," said Mildred, "I certainly enjoyed showing them their shortcomings, at least on a strategic level, but I yearn to do far more than show them the inanity of their card playing. I would love to awaken them to the deficit in their souls!"

"They'd rather talk about chickens," sighed Iris, adding blandly, "are you sure I can't marry Lord Mulligan?"

"Yes," said Aunt Mildred in feigned sternness, adding wistfully, "though I must admit that he is quite an intriguing man."

"I wonder what this is all about," sighed Iris, "if I'm not to marry the fellow, it seems rather cruel to lead him on so."

"There's a reason for it my dear," said Mildred in an exasperatingly patient tone.

"There always is," harrumphed Iris, "but it is ever so much more interesting if I actually know what it is."

"You were one of those people that always read the last page of the book first, weren't you?" asked Mildred of Aunt.

Iris grinned wryly, "I was at that."

"He wins," said Mildred dryly.

"Who?" asked Iris.

"I'm merely reminding you of the End of our current story," chuckled that auntly spinster, "though there are many little subplots and minor battles yet to be fought therein."

"You are right," sighed Iris, "will I ever grow as wise and patient as you?"

"That's only how I appear to my wards," corrected Miss Mildred, "I must maintain the Auntly Mystique."

"That is a relief," agreed Iris with a laugh, "did I mention we are invited to lunch?"

So it was, the Misses Mildred and Iris ventured forth to see what Lord Mulligan was like during the day in his own surroundings. It was greatly disputed who was the most discomfited by the invitation: Mulligan's servants or Society in general and every eligible girl and her mother in particular. For Lord Mulligan had not hosted anything or invited anyone since his mother's funeral some ten years prior, and to invite a complete stranger! She must be a Thing in disguise that had enchanted the unfortunate but very eligible Lord. The only question was, was it now a scandal or a fairy tale, though by the Standards, it could well be both!

"Are you fond of scandals?" asked he of the ladies as they were ushered into the Best Parlor, a move which had given the housekeeper a near fatal case of apoplexy and prostrated three of the housemaids with fainting fits, but what was one more act of rebellion, mused he happily to himself; why have a Best Parlor if you never used it?

"My life seems to be nothing but of late," said Iris honestly.

"As long as it is only the Standards and Society that are thus scandalized," said Mildred at her most prosaic, a perfect portrait of the morally superior Aunt, if only she would take the Standards seriously she might progress far in Society, but alas, she just could not seem to manage it.

"As of last night," continued he most jovially, "milady, you were the most anticipated guest of the Season, but after your regrettable behavior, or perhaps our behavior?, you are now blacklisted from all proper company."

"That's why there wasn't a wagonload of invitations awaiting us at breakfast," said Mildred in comprehension, "what are idle tongues saying?"

"It is most dreadful," grinned he in approbation, "you are either a grasping, inelegant social climber or a Thing, and I'm not sure which is worse in the eyes of either Society or the Standards."

"If I am indeed a Thing," replied Iris, exchanging a knowing grin of secret amusement with Mildred, "that would at least be the worst for you. For any dealings with a known Thing would ever after make you ineligible to be thought a man of character, substance, or trustworthiness."

"Condemned by men who lack those very traits," grinned he in a most ironic fashion, "I'm willing to take the risk. At least it would keep all those fluffy fortune seeking featherbrains away."

"You'd still be an eligible match," smiled Iris, as Mildred had the evening before when about to play the winning card, "perhaps even more so, because what can be more romantic than winning and reforming a known rake?"

"I'd have to ask the gardener," said he dryly, "but is there no way to keep these flimsy females away from my person save voluntary isolation?"

"Death, poverty, or being a known Thing are your only choices," said Mildred grimly.

He grimaced in disgust, "the first two are certainly not options, what of marriage?"

Replied she, "you could always be widowed or otherwise become an eligible match again. Only women can safely become social non-entities for such scandalous crimes as reading at a dinner party or being named Mildred."

"I envy you that," sighed he, but adding on a hopeful note, at least in lightening the tone of the discussion, if not completely serious upon the matter, "so how does one go about becoming a Thing?"

"There are various ways," began Mildred, as if she was an expert on the subject; Iris would not be surprised if she was. He goggled at the very idea of this birdlike little Aunt knowing aught of Things, let alone familiar enough with the topic to broach it easily amongst just met strangers; it was at that moment he seriously began to question her Auntishness.

She waited patiently for his stunned reaction to pass, before continuing, "you could of course inveigle your way into werewolf or vampire society, a dangerous but sometimes successful enterprise. You could take up the magical arts and become a sorcerer. Or you could make a more drastic decision in one of two very opposite directions, but from a mortal perspective, either one is akin to suicide."

He absolutely goggled at her, an unheard of experience for one who thought himself quite worldly and wise, having either seen or heard of just about everything that might discomfit a man in his position. When he finally regained control of his faculties, he could only ask, "and how madam, have you come by such knowledge? I doubt you acquired it by reading."

"Certainly not," chuckled Mildred, "for the books that contain such information are inaccessible to mortal men, though a few of the more arcane philosophers have made some very accurate postulations, but they are only theories and must remain forever unproven."

"So what you are telling me," said he dryly, "by not telling me, is that you know this from personal experience?"

She smiled enigmatically at him, in the very Mildredest sort of way; Iris smiled at his very obvious desire to throw something at her and glad that grin for once wasn't directed at her. When it was obvious that most peculiar of Aunts would say no more upon the subject, he turned to her companion, hoping to find a chink in this very bizarre armor. Said he, "and what of you milady, are you too an expert on Things?"

Iris smiled whimsically, "I am in nowise an expert, sir. Merely a very inexperienced Student."

"And where did you find such a master Teacher," pressed he.

"We were introduced by a mutual acquaintance," said Iris with a grimace of remembrance.

"Why such a look of revulsion?" queried he, not unamused.

"If you knew the lady in question," chuckled Miss Mildred, "you would quite understand."

"She could not be worse than the just revealed Princess!" protested he, "Though happily she's been married off to some foreign Prince or other, else she too would be dogging my bachelorhood."

"It was one and the same," smiled Mildred dryly.

"And I am not to hear that tale either, I suppose," said he with vexation tingeing his voice.

"Neither do we hear all the whithertoos and whyfors," said Iris with a sigh, "don't feel too bad about it."

"I suppose I shouldn't complain," mused he, "when even the frontline soldiers know little of the rest of the battle; that's the prerogative of generals and kings." At mention of generals, Mildred smiled vexingly indeed. "I hate it when she does that," remarked he to Iris.

She nodded with a sympathetic smile, "I could not agree more."

"That's what Aunts and Generals do dearie," lectured Mildred, more Mildredy than ever, "confound the troops; it keeps them on their toes and lends an air of mystery their commanders would otherwise lack."

"She has an excellent comprehension of politics and social intrigue," said he in wonder.

"Don't get her started!" warned Iris.

Added Mildred, "that too is the province of Aunts and Generals."

"I never considered how alike the two positions are," mused he.

"Save Aunts are the most terrible of the two," propounded said Aunt, "though for the sake of all humanity, Aunts are not usually allowed in battle."

"I adore this little aunt of yours, my dear," said he in wonder, most especially to himself.

"Take her, please!" laughed Iris.

"I suppose it is a very different thing to entertain her as a guest and to own her," said he with a slight frown.

"You are quite a sensible man," nodded Mildred approvingly, "so let us proceed upon the matter at hand. What is your interest in my ward?"

He smiled at her directness and said, "I had thought to marry her, but something tells me I can no more possess her than I would wish to live with my favorite Aunt. I have been desperately searching for the meaning of life, if there is one, for all of my great wealth and influence and giftings, I am still empty, bored, lonely, and rather miserable. Your little chickadee is the first ray of sunshine that has shone into my otherwise dark world since my mother died. Tell me, if you will, your secret, or at least the secret as to why I find the young lady both so refreshing and intriguing."

"It is quite scandalous," said Mildred gravely.

He glanced around at the best parlor and smiled, "what is that to me?"

"This is a far different magnitude of scandal," warned she, "it must either save your soul or damn it."

"At the moment I am hardly in possession of one," retorted he, "and I assume that means I am like to lose it even so? What have I to lose?"

"Everything," said Iris quietly, but with such a Joy behind the serious countenance that he could not help but be envious.

"Or Nothing," said Mildred, "for at the moment you are in possession of Nothing, were even the entire earth and all its contents yours to command, yet you would stand a penniless beggar in every aspect that truly matters."

"Well give it to me then," said he eagerly, "this thing that makes the maiden nearly glow with a carefully veiled inner joy."

"You have been warned, sir," cautioned Mildred once more. He didn't seem to care, save to wonder why she was taking so long in the telling, so she proceeded with her story:

"Once before time, as this tale begins quite before time was a concept, there was Nothing. But there is One who abhors a vacuum even more than Nature herself does, and since Nature had yet to grace the scene, it was up to Him to set Things in motion, and so He did. Everything of which we are aware, and many, many Things of which we haven't the least notion that they even exist, were the result. It was wonderful, perfect really, until it wasn't, for you see into this Perfect and Wonderful reality, came a twisted little thing called Evil. It wasn't much to look at, not splendid certainly, but neither was it disgusting and repulsive as one might imagine; it was simply a little crooked thing that had no place in a perfect world. It could not itself act against a reality contrary to its very nature, but it could whisper, lie, hint, and otherwise encourage others to do so.

And that's what happened, someone decided to act contrary to the very nature of their particular reality and shattered the whole thing; into perfection came storming doubt and fear, sorrow and death. Most artisans would cast a broken or thoroughly flawed piece into the dustbin and start anew, especially a work so silly as to break itself, but not this Artist; He came Himself to fix what was broken, to mend what had been marred. He loved us too much to do otherwise. In our limited comprehension, it would be like an artist crawling into his painting or an author jumping into the pages of his novel, fixing from within what could not be fixed from without.

But when something is Crooked, it takes a very dim view of the Straight. They loved Him at first, this God who deigned to wear something as flimsy as mortal flesh, for they profited much by His wisdom and miracles, but eventually they saw Him as a mirror, one that reflected their ugliness, brokenness, and filth, one that challenged their power and positions of influence; He who would assert that the status quo was not the true reality, that all sapient beings were possessed of a soul and therefore of inestimable value. So they killed Him, the very Author of Life.

Darkness seemed to win that day and so did it rejoice, as all who loved the light could but weep amid the growing shadows. But then He did the unthinkable and broke down the very doors of Death, making a way for any that would follow Him to escape that sad and inevitable path. He decisively beat Evil that day, though it was not the final Hour of Darkness, rather He returned to His own great Kingdom, promising to return one Day and send Darkness flying like shadows in the dawning, never to be remembered more. Knowing this, we each must choose whom we will serve: the Coming King or the Darkness."

A Questionable Personage

"But why did He not destroy evil forever then and there?" queried Lord Mulligan with a pensive frown.

Smiled Mildred wistfully, "we were just discussing the mysterious ways of Generals and Aunts, how much more so must His ways be incomprehensible to a mortal mind? Part of the answer is that He would like to give all a chance to come willingly to Himself, that all might be saved, if that be their choice."

"You hinted earlier at a certain sort of suicide," queried he, "what light does your tale shine thereupon?"

"As you have probably ascertained," said she with a knowing smile, "the two opposite sides are either the Light or Darkness, Good or Evil, the Master or the Enemy. There is a peculiar service a mortal creature might render either side, but in doing so he or she ceases to be a mortal creature."

"Hence your warning of apparent suicide," nodded he, adding, "but must one serve in such an extreme case?"

"Certainly not," chuckled the Aunt at the very idea, "most serve the Darkness, albeit unwittingly, simply in choosing to live in selfish ignorance all their born days. So too do some willingly choose to serve the Master until their dying day."

"But you said He had conquered Death," countered he.

"Eternal Death: falling into eternal darkness and dwelling ever away from Himself due to our brokenness and evil," amended she, "physical death is still a door all mortal folk must pass, though that too will be destroyed on the Last Day. All sapient creatures were made to last forever, mortal and immortal folk, just not in this particular reality; we may choose where we spend eternity: with the Source of Everything or amidst the dust and shadows of Nothing."

"Certainly a thought provoking story," said he, "and as scandalous as you promised. I suppose all that remains is to know what I shall do with it." His eyes narrowed as he took in the perfectly normal seeming ladies before him, "I have met servants of the Light, me thinks, though you will in nowise officially reveal yourselves to me." Mildred only smiled at him. "You say I have lived amongst the lesser servants of darkness all my life, and have even been so myself, though quite unwittingly done. What of these greater servants of evil, the vile counterparts of yourselves? What of Things?"

"Things are merely those things which dwell within our world, creatures of flesh and blood that can be killed, though if they are immortal they do not die of natural causes: age or disease, but of which man knows next to nothing, and fears or hates out of ignorance, and they likewise fear or hate mankind for very much the same reasons," lectured Mildred happily, perhaps she should have been a bespectacled Philosopher somewhere teaching eager students rather than gadding about guised as the of least of all Aunts. She shivered before continuing, "the true Things, horrid creatures trapped in a living death, have willingly sold themselves utterly to evil in hopes of power unimaginable and life unending, only to discover they are actually slaves and little more than animated corpses, eternally condemned even as they walk the mortal sphere."

"I had almost hoped to meet one such," said he in disgust, "just to compare both sides of this puzzle, but I believe that would be quite a foolish desire."

"Indeed," said Mildred grimly, gaining her feet and clutching a sword in one hand, as if it were as natural a part of her ensemble as her hat or gloves. Iris likewise was on her feet and glancing anxiously about, unsure what it was that so unnerved her. Said the elder lady quietly, "it seems you are about to have your wish, sir!"

His eyes widened in terror, but there was a certain eagerness about him too, a thing which might be called morbid curiosity, said he anxiously, "there are some wishes I would rather not have granted!"

"Do not berate yourself, sir," said Mildred, setting herself and looking at the door in anticipation, "the Enemy will do just about anything to prevent another soul from going over to the Master. Your very natural curiosity about such matters opened a door for just such a fiend to squeeze through." She looked to her junior and said significantly, "the Thing must be allowed its chance, as we are all of us guests here; we can do nothing against it unless it means to force its will upon Lord Mulligan."

"You're just going to let it walk in here unchallenged?" squeaked he in astonishment.

"For the moment, yes," said Mildred, losing the sword somewhere and seating herself like a very Standard-issue Aunt, Iris doing likewise, save in a far less auntly manner, "indeed, it might be best if you do not let it know you know aught of its true nature, or ours."

He smiled slightly in triumph in having his former suppositions confirmed, but it was quickly replaced by a face of bland neutrality, one he had worn countless times in tiresome company or serious political situations, though there was no way he could suppress the dread that currently coursed through his being, a natural result of the pall of utter terror such a fiend exuded to all mortals in close proximity to the horrid Thing.

When the servant ushered the questionable person in, his Lordship stood as ceremony demanded while the ladies merely looked up from their all-engrossing needlework, in bland curiosity, but seeing nothing of remote interest in the newcomer, they resumed adding to their collection of pretty little stitches. "My Lord Mulligan!" hissed the stranger in seeming delight, but the ladies could see the undead sorcerer lurking just beneath the shallow, human appearing visage.

Mulligan could in nowise See, but he could certainly feel this thing was thoroughly evil, and his long experience reading people assured him likewise that it was far from friendly and certainly meant nothing good towards himself or any who wore flesh. "Do I know you?" asked he blandly, resuming his seat and picking up a book that lay conveniently to hand, wondering where the ladies had come by such convenient busywork, probably the same place Mildred had stashed her sword or retrieved it from at the first, perhaps those tiny needles were deadly to such a horror?

"Would you rather not discuss this alone, milord?" snarled the Thing in what was supposed to be a genial tone.

"You are the one who intruded upon me," said his Lordship, indifferently flipping a page, "you must not complain about my guests; it is impolite. And you still have yet to answer my original query?"

"I was a school fellow of yours," said the Thing indignantly, "how can you be so callously indifferent to an old chum?"

"For such a dear friend, old bean," said Mulligan coldly, "you certainly haven't kept in touch either."

"It wasn't proper for a man of my estate to contact one of yours," said the Thing with a sneer.

"So what are you doing here now?" asked his Lordship sternly.

"I'm now a man of influence and power," said the other, "just like you, save far more so."

"I see," said Mulligan with another flip of a page, "and you've come to make me an offer?"

"Certainly," said the other eagerly, "I know you find yourself bored and empty, just like the rest of this soulless society, but I have found the Answer!"

"And what will it cost me?" asked Mulligan stonily.

"Absolutely nothing, sir," came the reply.

"Why is everyone not embracing this lovely scheme if it is so easy?" countered his Lordship.

"Those shallow and insipid sheep?" laughed the Thing coldly, "What use have we for them?"

"So it is only a certain sort of man you seek then?" mused his Lordship.

"Certainly," scoffed the other, "what use is there in trying to turn the course of a stream that is already flowing in the desired direction?"

"Yet you would build a dam across a channel that has turned in an unwanted direction?" queried Mulligan.

"What does not build us up, breaks us down," shrugged the other.

"So there is really no choice at all?" countered the Lord, his book completely forgotten in his lap.

"I am glad you are wise enough to see things my way, your Lordship," sneered the other triumphantly, "take my generous offer or find yourself permanently inconvenienced."

"Ladies," said Mulligan with a wry smile, "I believe it is high time you had your part in this conversation."

Scoffed the Thing, "quite the gentleman to throw these helpless damsels to the wolf, sir, but it will not spare you, not in the least! My master has decreed that you will be his or none shall have you!"

"Oh stuff it!" said Mildred with a dramatic roll of her eyes at his drama, "his Lordship has politely entertained your guff far longer than politeness demands, and I do believe he would prefer you to make a hasty exit without eliciting the embarrassment of him having to ask you to do so." She looked at Mulligan quizzically and he nodded his agreement thereto.

"The only one going anywhere," hissed the fiend, "is you, you impertinent little biddy!"

"Why does it always come back to chickens?" said Iris in annoyance, drawing the Thing's gaze to herself.

Its smile was hideous indeed, "and what of this, your beloved lady, sir? Perhaps not for your own sake will you consider my most gracious offer, but certainly for hers?"

"Take them both and go," said Mulligan, picking up his book.

"I will be taking all of you then," smiled the Thing eagerly, "we have ways of convincing people to do all sorts of things they might otherwise never do!"

"Enough!" said Mildred, "he has asked you to go, and as you will not, I am well within my rights to deal with you!"

"Come now, Aunty-kins," mocked the fiend, "don't try your uppity little act with me!"

Iris had never seen Mildred turn that particular shade of scarlet before and knew it boded ill indeed for the elicitor thereof, smiling in anticipation, she put up her embroidery to watch, seeing that Mulligan too was only paying superficial attention to his book. Mildred caught his Lordship's eye as he tried to surreptitiously watch and read at the same time, saying calmly, "this may get messy, sir."

"Do what you must, dear Aunt," said Mulligan with a grim smile, like a man about to be hanged, who even yet has a shred of humor in him, enough to spout off one last joke ere the end.

The Thing stared from one to the other, his brow furrowed in incomprehension, never before had he encountered such a feisty little cat nor so little terror in his victims, except...he panicked as he suddenly understood the strange dynamics of the little scene, reaching for any and every spell he could think of, but it was too late, Mildred smiled in that very Mildred sort of way and then exploded in a brilliant radiance, while quite lovely we can be sure, it was a very un-Aunt-like thing to do.

"Feldon?!" said his Lordship brightly, leaving the arm of his lady friend to go rushing across the perfectly manicured lawn towards a certain Gentleman he had not seen in ages, but whom he had just glimpsed, said he, eager as a puppy that has just met a new friend, "I thought never to see you again, after the Incident, and here you are quite at your leisure!"

"You are one to talk, milord," grinned Mulligan's erstwhile schoolmate, though slightly uneasy at mention of the Incident where all his comrades might freely hear.

"So you do have a name," said Miss Iris, approaching at a more leisurely pace and joining the gentlemen in their reunion, "and what might be the Incident? I do remember some mention of a rather tragic encounter with a croquet ball."

"Guilty as charged, milady," said the First Gentleman, blushing fiercely as any debutante at her first dance after she had trod on someone's toe, an especially handsome someone. "I do indeed have a name, a curious affectation of mortal parents in my day, and yes, I believe I am the only man ever to have his skull cracked by a croquet ball lobbed with particular vim but a bit too much in a vertical direction."

"Where is your partner in crime?" asked she, happily failing to comment upon or even grin at what appeared to be a rather touchy subject.

Much recovered at her discretion, he replied, "I am unsure, but we do have separate adventures from time to time. I was mortally struck just now and found myself here, meeting a person I had never dreamed to meet in such a place!" He grinned broadly at this last and asked, "how is it you are here, my friend? It is most agreeable to see you again, especially here!"

Mulligan's eyes shone in wonder and Joy, the very Joy he formerly envied the Lady, said he, "your Lady and her dread Aunt had very much to do with it." He glanced around again at the pleasant grounds, great house, and bright autumn day, "where exactly are we? This was not exactly what I expected after..." He trailed of in an amazed silence.

Gentleman the First answered merrily, "what were we covertly reading together before my little...accident?"

"Some outlandish philosopher," mused Mulligan wistfully, "those were the days! No drear thoughts or feelings of futility or pointlessness; we were all innocent dreams and bold action back then!"

"And so it is again, my friend," nodded the First happily, "but this time we have a True direction and vision, one that is never futile or wrong, nor will it fade or turn to darkness with time or trial."

"You have not answered my question," said Mulligan hopefully.

"Sorry, old friend," grinned the Gentleman, "I quite lost myself in the delight of our profession. What did that outlandish philosopher have to say?"

Mulligan thought back over all those long, drab years to the colorful days of his youth when they quite delighted in finding and reading such forbidden books as would certainly give their very Standard teachers apoplexy did they but know. Said he at last, "I believe there was some mention of a 'wood between the worlds?'"

"We believe the fellow was on to something brilliant," agreed his friend, "but rather than a Wood, we have a House."

"Ah!" said Mulligan, "that explains much."

Iris growled like an aggrieved cat, "I wish I had had as easy access to such forbidden works!"

"My Lady!" said the Gentleman, taking her arm gently, "Each story is unique," here he grinned ruefully, "and while I may wish for a more, shall we say poetic end, it was not to be and I had no say in the matter. Likewise, you had some advantages that no one else had yet also a unique set of hindrances. Rather than mull gloomily over what wasn't, let us rejoice greatly over what is!"

"Why must you always speak sense?" laughed she lightly, mostly at her own pettiness.

"Too long in the Mildred's clutches, me thinks," smiled he most genially, "it certainly wasn't a proper, socially prescribed education!"

"Speaking of which," added Mulligan, "before this rather impromptu garden party, an old schoolfellow dropped in unexpectedly for a visit, but I couldn't tell you his name. I do remember he was a shifty fellow, preferring to keep to himself and always getting up to some cruel little mischief or other."

"Sounds like Ludwig," mused the First, "but from that description that could be half the boys in our class!"

"That's it!" said Mulligan grimly, "and as I recall, he was the one involved in the Incident, purely an accident he assured, but I never quite trusted him, either before and most especially after."

"I was murdered!" said the Gentleman most eagerly, "and in the prime of youth too!, now that is certainly a tragic end, surely food for the bards and far less ridiculous than the alternative."

"What about all that sensible claptrap you were just spoon-feeding me?" queried Iris with a feral grin.

"Sense certainly has its place," grinned the First, quite as sheepishly as any sheep, "but I am hopeful it has little to do with poetry and romance, most especially the modern sort."

"The last half of that statement is certainly correct, my friend," chuckled Mulligan, "but I am afraid the first half is a fallacy indeed, especially pertaining to yourself."

"Very well," said he with a gracious bow, "I bow to the jury of my peers. However my end was accomplished, what matters it in the grand scheme of things? I will also try to think and act accordingly, lest I be sentenced to an eternity of remedial lessons in sense with our most esteemed of Aunts."

"They wouldn't help," said said Aunt, approaching with her usual swiftness across the lawn, "I'm afraid your character is beyond redemption, well, at least beyond my ability to redeem; He can certainly do the impossible, but that does not mean He will." Added she with particular vim, just so the other two didn't feel they could get away with anything either, "what do you three mean by lolling about the garden when there are things to be done?"

"We are quite at your service, milady," said Mulligan solemnly, still not quite sure what to think of this birdlike little spinster of an aunt who seemed to fancy herself a general, but there was a certain something in those steely eyes that said she just might be right but he wasn't fool enough to poke this particular bear to find out.

"Don't be ridiculous," said she, "of course you are! There will be no stating the obvious on my watch, sir!" But her mock tirade could not last long and soon failed utterly in a smile, for her mirthful streak ran quite deep, if sometimes she was a little too quick to feign that she had no such thing, but even Mulligan was beginning to understand this about the perky little commander. "Now," said she, all business, "what were you discussing before you strayed into the curious sort of sense entertained by the First of Gentlemen?"

"Old schoolfellows," replied Mulligan.

"Excellent," said she, "it seems your gadding and gabbing were not in vain; that's precisely what our next mission entails."

"You cannot mean we will be forced into the man's company for the foreseeable future?" grimaced Gentleman the First.

"Certainly not," chuckled Mildred mirthlessly, "he's certainly not a man. A Thing, pure and simple. But yes, you will be spending a rather extensive amount of time in his company."

"Lovely," said he in resignation.

Grinned she most dreadfully, "I am glad you have come to see it in such a light, for it is quite necessary."

"Certainly not for his good?" asked Iris curiously.

"Sadly, no," agreed Miss Mildred, "he's made his irrevocable choice, but he's up to something and we are ordered to find out what, and to stop it, if we can."

"Undercover?" asked Mulligan eagerly.

"For our unexcited friend there, certainly," grinned Mildred, truly savoring the benefits of command, "but we will resume our former place in Society."

Mulligan's brow furrowed in puzzlement, "won't he know that our last interview ended with something of a bang?"

"Oh, he'll be very wary of me," grinned she in anticipation, even more eager to discomfit the Enemy's minions than to torment her own, "but you milord, he will certainly not suspect, even if he does question my ward's persuasion, but when you are married, that will lay all such doubts to rest."

"Married?!" came three astonished voices in chorus, widening her grin significantly.

"I know it is quite prohibited by our curious nature," agreed she to their acute perturbation, "but since it will be a sham union between two such, there is nothing scandalous about it. It is no different than any other part you are asked to play in the course of your duties." She eyed Iris significantly and added, "you are no more a bride than you are a vampire or a housemaid."

Iris clapped her hands eagerly, "this will certainly be more fun than that particular debacle, though I can now make a bed perfectly in a matter of moments."

Grinned Mulligan wryly, "I'd love to hear that particular tale, though as the wife of a great lord, I am afraid that particular skill won't get much use."

"The Great Lords, and their wives in particular, tend to be rather eccentric," countered Iris, "I can make beds from sunup to sundown if that be my wish!" Added she ruefully, "though I would hope to have a better taste in fetishes."

"At least it is a useful occupation," remarked the First, recovering both his composure and his sense of humor, "I may have to associate with a former ill-tempered acquaintance but at least I don't have to marry the fellow!"

"After ten years with an elfling prince," quipped Iris, "this will be a stroll through the gardens!" At Mulligan's rather astonished look, she told him all the story, including the part about moonlighting as a bloodsucking servant.

He grinned wryly, "it seems you are far more suited to this assignment than I am, and here I was worried about your ability to act the Great Lord's wife. You'll have to give me husband lessons instead!"

"Nonsense," smiled Iris primly, "we are well equipped for whatever task is asked of us, even be it making perfectly square corners on a bed!"

"I believe that would be the more challenging accomplishment," agreed Mulligan with a smile, before looking to Mildred curiously, "so how is this to play out?"

"We three will return to that rather exciting scene we just exited with none the wiser that anything untoward has happened, save our particular fiend," said Mildred, "we'll continue our visit and you may pursue your hasty courtship as seems best to you. The Thing will find himself banished elsewhither for a bit and then come speedily back to continue his vile machinations."

"Really?" asked the scandalized Gentleman, "machinations? And here you chastise me for waxing poetic and nonsensical!"

"There are foibles allowable in a commanding officer which are quite unacceptable in the nameless ranks," said Mildred in feigned sternness.

"But we have learned his name," said Iris.

"Truly?!" said Mildred, for once openly astonished, a thing all had thought quite impossible.

"You just never consulted the right people," grinned the First, much enjoying the old lady's discomfiture in turn.

"It's a conspiracy," said Mildred at last, "that's all I can say for it. Just for that, I'm condemning you to keep company with a most reprehensible fellow until further notice!"

"Yes, madam," said the First in grinning contriteness.

"And the sentence shall be carried out forthwith," grinned she maniacally, touching him with a glowing hand. He vanished with a lovely flourish of light and then she glared balefully at her remaining companions.

Mulligan bowed deeply and said, "we are quite at your service, milady."

She smiled wickedly but said only, "quite," before unleashing that deadly radiance once more, leaving the garden to its own timeless musings.

"Well here we are again," sighed Iris, staring grimly at her needlework, unhappy that she recognized the dreadful piece, abandoned in half-finished ennui and frustration seven years prior.

Mildred beamed, "I see you are familiar with your project, dear. Don't ask me how or why such things happen in this peculiar service, but they do; you'd best just get used to the idea."

"Either someone has a truly ironic sense of humor or hates to see any sort of waste or inefficiency in what should be a perfect system," mused Iris, roundly ignoring the sampler.

"Likely both," agreed Mildred, studying her own girlhood project that had never made it past the teen years, but then neither had she.

Turning to the gentleman and his newspaper, which he studied in as bored a fashion as the Standards demanded, he met the miniature commander's eyes and grinned broadly, "this is a merry gathering if ever I saw one. It certainly puts a man in a very domestic frame of mind." He gazed hopefully at the young lady but alas, his proposal went unrequited.

"What is the meaning of this abhorrent proposal, sir?!" queried the flummoxed maiden. "I am a lady of scandalous and questionable background and you the most sought after bachelor in all the realm! You cannot propose as if I were merely a well bred Princess of impeccable habit and lineage, if our romance is to be believed, it must be a torrid and public affair, straight out of a storybook, not one of those garish modern romance novels mind you, but you must be far more convincing than that. This is not a business transaction, as most of these upper class unions tend to be, but rather a crime of passion, at least as Society must see it."

"You want a proper fairytale romance, is that it?" grinned he, "You want everything mawkish and florid? You wish to give the Standards apoplexy? Milady, I love how you think!"

"I would add one thing, sir," said Mildred, "the sooner you are wed, the sooner you will be rid of me."

"And you of us," chuckled he, "we shall see to it immediately, or at least as swiftly as Scandal allows."

"Let's be about it then," grinned Iris, "to the Park!"

Yes, the Park, that semi-public greensward wherein anyone who was everyone could parade about in their ridiculous splendor, proud as any peacock and equally gaudy. But if one was courting scandal or scandalously courting, or in this case both, it was the Place to do just that. So did they set out, the Aunt walking the prescribed number of feet behind the besotted pair, arm in arm beneath the flowering trees, gaped and gawked at by all and sundry, especially the writers of the innumerable social gossip columns that made up the bulk of the scholarly research in that particular age of the world.

An Introduction to Villainy

A dark mist carpeted the dank alley, driving the rats and other loathsome vermin that usually lurked therein scuttling in terror before it, before reassembling itself into the figment of a man, for it only looked the picture of what once it had been. Now it was so much more, or so it thought, though in truth it was nothing but a dark vapor, an empty shell, a fickle shadow. It hissed in irritation at the uppity little 'aunt,' and her antics, ruining his ambitions and endangering his orders; he shuddered at the latter, for failure was not an option in his particular line of work. But she couldn't keep him away from his quarry, he'd succeed in spite of the meddling Messenger, or perhaps because of her! This last thought made him smile, a hideous aberration in that joyless futility it called life, perhaps the very creature sent to protect his lordship would push him away from the very direction they hoped to herd him, like a pig unwilling to go in the one direction it was pushed. If he knew aught of Great Lords in particular and men in general, it was just the thing, just the thing indeed! And once his lordship was well in hand, then it was time for greater things. It would be a bright and glorious future indeed, nay a dark and dismal one, at least for the men of this wretched City!

As it excited the unpeopled little side street, the Thing formerly known as Ludwig nearly trampled a Gentleman on his prim and proper way somewhere very Standardish. The Thing spat at the man, "watch where you are going, oaf!"

"Dear me!" sputtered the Gentleman, adjusting his monocle, as if he had never seen rudeness before, "I say, have we met?" He shook his head grimly, as if reconsidering that dreadful fact, "never mind, I would be out of my wits to associate with such an uncouth personage! Good day to you!" Whereat, he turned briskly on his heel and marched off in the opposite direction, but that horrible fellow followed like a desperate dog.

"Forgive me sir!" spat the fiend, meaning no such thing but eager to reignite the acquaintance, "you are quite correct in your assumptions, and the fault was truly mine, but it was quite an accident, you understand, but quite a propitious one, if I might say so. You are just the man I was looking for, what say you to a short chat, I am certain it would greatly benefit us both."

Feeling an evil pall suddenly enveloping him, something no mortal creature could resist, save to collapse in terror, Feldon immediately replied, "of a certainty sir, I do not see how I could decline. Lead on!" So it was they hastened off to a seedy little tavern, quirky enough that the gentlemen of the City thought it quite a fashionable haunt, at least for the last fortnight, so it was not too unseemly to see the two sequestered therein, it was just questionable enough to lend a little atmosphere of adventure and excitement to an otherwise tedious life, and gentlemen of fashion, lacking any other thrill or meaning or purpose, were quite desirous thereof.

"Of course I remember you," said Feldon, in guise as another old schoolmate, for he himself was long dead, at least to the knowledge of his apparent killer.

"I need your help in a little business with another old classmate," broached the Thing.

"It will be a regular reunion," grinned the First.

"Indeed," nodded the fiend encouragingly, "have you had aught to do with Lord Mulligan since we were boys?"

"I met him quite recently," said the Gentleman quite truthfully, "and we got along quite famously."

"Excellent," smiled the Thing, though it looked more a grimace, but we shall give him the benefit of the doubt, very un-Standard though it may be. "I'm afraid he's going to get himself in trouble," continued he, "for he's consorting with a lady of most unsavory character."

"What is that to us?" queried the First, "The dalliances of the Great are not for us to question."

"Nothing is known of the chit's history, Society has blacklisted her for very unseemly behavior, and her guardian is a known sorceress," confided his companion.

"Things!" gasped Feldon in feigned horror, fighting valiantly to keep an ironic smile out of his voice.

"The same," agreed the Thing, the delicious irony quite lost upon him, for his sense of humor had died with his mortal self. "And whither the Great Lords go, so goes the Realm."

"So it is quite within our prerogative to interfere," nodded his companion, "for we very well might save the City, if not the world."

"Exactly!" triumphed the entity once called Ludwig, "I knew you were just the man to take into my confidence."

"What are you proposing?" queried the First.

"We must get back into his lordship's good graces, which you seem to have done," said the uncanny second who was in nowise a gentleman, "thereafter we will act as we must. And if all goes well, I have a most intriguing offer to make you." Feldon suppressed a shudder and smiled wanly, hoping his companion might take it for a positive sign.

That evening, the scandalous courtship being well established in all the foremost circles of the City, his lordship did the unthinkable and threw a party in celebration thereof, thankfully all the most susceptible of his staff were already abed with acute apoplexy after his use of the Best Parlor, so those who remained in possession of both their wits and their functionality simply made the best of it and threw together the gala of the season with about ten minutes notice. And a splendid affair it was, even though he had sent no invitations and simply opened his doors to the sordid masses, most of whom had the sense not to spend an evening hobnobbing with snobs, who went solely to grin in supercilious superiority at their host's impropriety.

Torrid love affairs were nothing new amongst the aristocracy, but one did not go and make the object thereof such a personal accessory as a wife was like to be! The fool could have a dozen mistresses and none would bat an eye thereat, but getting married was akin to a business partnership or the purchase of real estate: not to be entered into lightly nor so easily escaped from with a permanent and significant impact on one's life, prosperity, and legacy. What was the fool thinking?

But they ate his food, drank his wine, and smirked at his foolishness rather than smiling at his happiness; the ladies of the party were even less kind and more ink need not be wasted in imaging their reaction. Of the guests, there was only really one party of note, that being the late Ludwig and his gentlemanly companion of the first water. They managed to inveigle their way into the good graces of their host and there remained after all his other non-friends had come to sneer and goggle before moving on to more fruitful spectacles.

"It just is not done, old chap," said the Thing, boldly as a brother or father might presume in such a circumstance, but as Mulligan lacked either, he felt quite qualified in stepping in, "this girl has bewitched you, I am sure, quite literally, I am certainly not talking in a poetic sense. But one cannot go making such florid affairs public and legitimizing them with a legal union and expect to remain a member in good standing with the rest of Society. If you want to make a hash of your life and still maintain your public persona, you should have talked to me!"

"I could care less as to Society's favor, sir," sniffed Mulligan, "what are they to me?"

"The very stuff of life, man!" countered the fiend, "You are Nothing without them."

"Herd logic," grinned the Mulligan contemptuously, "it may do very well for you and the rest of Society, but I aim to rise above the social prowess of sheep!"

"And there are wolves aplenty waiting to snap you up," hissed the uninvited guest of honor.

"Let them come," said he quite boldly.

"May I at least interrogate your bride-to-be?" grunted the Thing in annoyance, failing to make any headway with the stubborn man, perhaps when the initial besottment wore off and he was repenting at leisure, as the old saw ran, he would be more amenable to the inevitable! The betrothed man shrugged indifferently, brushing at an invisible spot on his garish jacket, worn solely because it was three years out of fashion, a piece acquired by his hopeful valet but which had never left the closet since.

Off went the fiend to interrogate the woman, perhaps here was the weak link in the chain! Happily there was no interfering aunt of an uncanny nature about to ward the ward. She eyed him indifferently but he shuddered at the awful keenness in those otherwise young, bored eyes, for no meek and brainless chit was this, but a scheming and nefarious creature if ever he saw one, having won her way into Mulligan's heart with cunning rather than with any other charm of feature or habit. Said he bluntly, "what do you want with Mulligan?"

"What is that to you, sir?" asked she, the entire question pertaining to the final word alone.

"We are old school chums," sneered he, "and I hate to see a man so important fall so suddenly into folly and ruin."

"You are far more concerned with his benefit to yourself in his current position, and my endangerment thereof, than you are about his personal wellbeing," retorted she, "how is that different than my own aspirations? Do we both not wish to benefit somehow from a relationship with him?"

"Perhaps we could work together?" said the vile minion eagerly.

"I very much doubt it," yawned she, "we can have nothing in common, certainly our ends must be vastly different."

What a villainess this heartless and cunning creature would make! He must secure them both for his master's service, but first he must ascertain whether the creature truly was worthy of such an honor, or even capable of it! Asked he, "where is your peculiar guardian and what was that odd display this afternoon? Is she truly your Aunt as she tends to portray?"

"Certainly not!" said Iris with a merry laugh at the very idea, "the poor thing has latched on to me for some odd notion of her own, and as I needed a chaperone to gad about in society, I did not protest overly much. As to her more curious displays, those are within her prerogative alone, you must ask her about them and in nowise trouble me upon the matter. Now that I'm properly engaged, she seems to have taken it into her head to meddle elsewhither, where or with whom I cannot say."

"She's a dangerous creature," hissed the Thing, "deadly dangerous, indeed, I was quite astonished to see you and his Lordship leave her presence alive!"

"She is rather pestiferous," grinned milady, "I will grant you that, but I've never felt any imminent dread or danger in her presence." Her eyes sparkled in delight, "though I suppose to any unworthy young man who feels intent on trifling with her ward, it is quite another matter entirely."

"Misconstrue if you must," snarled he, "I am only trying to help."

"Yourself, perhaps," grinned she, as insolent as he himself had ever been to the headmaster at school. She glanced possessively at his lordship and said, "we will see who wins their way with milord, shan't we?"

"You really mean to marry him then?" said the dismal creature.

"Certainly," said she, as wide-eyed and confused as she could muster, "what lady wouldn't?"

"Your Aunt," countered he.

"Spinsterly Aunts are not my specialty," agreed she, "they have their own reasons for everything they do, or don't, certainly beyond my comprehension, but we mere, silly girls must marry as best we can if we are to do aught in this world."

"You are no silly girl," said he menacingly, "therefore you are much in danger from those that otherwise might overlook you as a witless nonentity."

"Like you," laughed she, in the greatest good cheer at such an obviously ridiculous statement.

"Don't let appearances deceive you, my pet," snarled he, momentarily brushing her hand with his, before walking away and laughing like death itself, were it ever in such a frivolous mood, as he did so.

She frowned at him and then glanced at where their hands had briefly touched, gasping slightly at the black, cold spot that seemed to be the result of this trifling contact. She excused herself from the room, feeling his cold, triumphant gaze following her flight as the hunter might a wounded deer. In the relative safety of her sitting room, or what would be milady's chambers once she truly was mistress of the house, she took out her soon to be gigantesque book, leaving the regular volume to its mopery. Asked she of the tome, "what is the significance of this mark?"

It wasn't a precise question, but lacking the exact terminology, she hoped a less learned etymology would suffice, and happily she was not disappointed. 'The Creeping Death,' read she, 'a malady inflicted by certain undead sorcerers via a mere touch, inevitably fatal to mortals and immortals alike, even amputation of the afflicted limb does nothing to slow its spread.'

"Lovely," said she, though she truly had nothing to fear from the lesion, she must play her part if this little charade was to succeed. She read a bit more upon the subject, just to assure herself of the proper progression and timeline, as if she were an actress learning her part in a play, though it seemed a tragedy, she could only hope it would end a comedy, but they were yet only in the first act. Donning a pretty, but horridly unfashionable, pair of gloves, she returned to the party, of which there was nobody left but some societal Nobodies eager for a free meal and the two hangers-on who had attached themselves to their old school 'chum.'

Leaving the devourers of the feast to their business, his Lordship and his two companions, as persistent as a pair of leeches, left the room in pursuit of his lady. He found her in the Best Parlor adjusting a pair of gloves, smiled she, "forgive my tardiness sir, but I had a last minute realization that my ensemble was lacking a little something and I in no way wanted to discomfit your guests."

"What guests?" queried he, staring at the cheekily grinning Ludwig and Feldon, "We have naught but toadies and hangers-on remaining to us, milady."

"How dreadful," retorted she, "indeed, sir, what is to be done upon the matter?"

"I assume they'll get bored and go home," said Mulligan indifferently, "or my impending fall from Social Grace will not avail them and they'll find better prey elsewhither."

"What kind of an attitude is that towards an old school chum?" queried Feldon.

"You mean social parasites," said Mulligan coldly.

"We'll all benefit one another, sir," countered Ludwig, in a sickeningly toadying fashion, "I believe they call it symbiosis."

"Reading the forbidden works of foreign biologists, are we?" said his lordship with a grin.

"And why not?" hissed the villain defensively, "It is not as if there is a legitimate book in the whole country worth the reading! I believe you were quite fond of just such literature yourself in our student days, you and that other wretch, what's his name?, the one who died so indecorously."

"Great Lords and their heirs are very eccentric," said Mulligan bluntly, "what is your excuse?"

"I don't need an excuse," snapped the Thing, "I can flaunt Propriety whenever I have a mind to."

"And here you are lecturing me on the impropriety of my marriage?" chuckled milord grimly.

"I have nothing to lose," stated Ludwig bluntly.

"And if I lose everything, you will not benefit thereby!" grinned he in triumph, "I quite see through you."

"Perhaps," sneered the foul Thing, "but it is I, not you or your lady that will have the final victory, unless you both bow to my demands!"

"He grows quite tiresome," sighed his lordship, "perhaps we should give in just to be well rid of him?"

"Quite," agreed his lady, looking in dismay at one gloved hand.

Shrugged Feldon indifferently, "I've already thrown my lot in with the cad, why not make it official?"

"Really?!" said the astonished fiend; finding a single recruit was considered a momentous event, but three at once? Part of him wanted to rejoice in triumph, but a far more cunning and less easily flattered part of his twisted mind could not help but be suspicious of this too-good-to-be-true event. They saw the suspicion suddenly alight in his dead eyes and knew their ruse was about to be revealed for what it was, at least until Aunt Mildred stumbled in, much as she had looked during that unfortunate decorating debacle for Uncle Lee's Ball of Special Magnificence, save this time clad in dressing gown and rollers rather than kerchief and apron.

"That is a Spectacle if ever I saw one," grinned milord at his lady.

"It will be the last thing any of you see," said she as only a Dread Mildred could, "I know what this fiend wants with the lot of you, even if you don't! You will not..." There was suddenly a flash of darkness, and when they could see once more, the Spectacle was gone by some dark witchery or other of the widely grinning Thing.

"Perhaps I was just a wee bit suspicious," said the late Ludwig by way of explanation, "a tad hasty, you understand, or you will, once you've embarked upon this most intriguing of enterprises, but come, we have no time to lose, that dreadful creature may return any moment and the lot of you are in very danger of your lives, but come, I will show you how to live forever and gain power over such fell Spectacles along with all else that lives!"

They couldn't help themselves, his evil laughter was so infectious they joyously joined in, as he uttered another uncouth incantation under his breath and whisked them all off to an appropriately macabre scene, for such gruesome rituals cannot happen in a properly stuffy parlor, particularly the Best Parlor, but the dripping ruin they now found themselves in at some obscene hour of the night was the perfect venue for such as he intended. "Now," hissed the fiend in growing excitement, "you must bleed!"

The three looked rather frantic at this, not as panicked mortals must, but rather as those who knew they weren't exactly wrought of flesh and blood any longer might when that little fact is about to become public knowledge, but at least Iris and Feldon could reach back in memory and come up with an instance, or fifty, wherein that was not the case, for it seemed when the messy details must be messy, mess there was; all that was needed would be provided, even be it gore. Mulligan had no such helpful memory, but he saw the confidence grow in his companions' eyes and felt they knew something he did not, and trusted to their superior knowledge in the strange proceedings that followed.

"Is that all?" mused Miss Iris hopefully, wishing to get away from this gruesome place and back to a comfortable drawing room somewhere, preferably with a good book, a fire, and a cat.

"It is a bit more complicated than that," corrected the Thing, "I'll actually need to cut out your hearts and burn them in the Black Fire, but after that little messiness, we can get down to the glorious business of ruling the world."

"It does sound a tad gruesome for a lady of breeding," countered she, "but you make it sound quite worth the trouble. Need I be awake for the procedure?"

"As long as you go willingly to your death and swear yourselves utterly to his Grim Majesty," said the disappointed fiend, "it can be done postmortem." He had dreamed of this day, especially hacking the still beating heart out of a living specimen, but he'd do what he must to secure an initiate, if not three, for his dread master's service. Added he hopefully, "but if the Ritual is endured by a living victim, it does much to please our master."

"I'm a bit squeamish," said Iris in embarrassment, "and a lady of breeding." He nodded in understanding, glancing hopefully at the gentlemen, but they looked equally as disgusted at the prospect.

With a resigned shrug, he ordered, "on your knees then, if you truly want to go through with it." They knelt as ordered, Mulligan happy to see that the hideous ensemble he had donned for the evening was about to meet the gruesome end it truly deserved, but his thoughts turned back to the villain as he said, "dedicate yourselves to my master's service."

"We have but one Master, now and forever," said they in eager chorus and the next moment all was blackness, save for the Thing, who indeed had a job of work ahead of him, but after the rather gory details were accomplished, he looked upon these new minions of darkness eagerly, rousing them with a darkly glowing hand.

"We are certainly a grim crew to look upon," said Miss Iris in fiendish delight, "now what was all that about ruling the world?"

"Well," said the hideous Ludwig, now plainly revealed in his true form, "not so much us as our fell master, but if we accomplish what we must, we'll certainly have our part in the matter. Here's what we must do..."

The little group was suddenly returned to the Best Parlor of former acquaintance, again looking as drab a company as ever gathered for a Social Event, much to Mulligan's dismay, the suit had not met a hideous death, or if it had, it was miraculously whole and unsoiled once more. "I will leave you here while I report on matters to my superiors, in the meantime, just act the bored and silly people you were." He vanished with a dark flash, leaving the three Messengers alone momentarily.

Grinned Feldon, "And here I thought marriage was anathema to our current occupation, now we've joined up with the Enemy."

"So much for my exciting engagement period and lavish wedding," sighed Iris as if at the death of some girlish dream, she added grimly, "not that it would have happened in any case, that fiend gave me a case of the Creeping Death as a wedding gift."

"A nasty business, that," agreed the Gentlemanly First, explaining for Mulligan's benefit just what that was.

"Now we're to take over the world," smiled Mulligan in anticipation, "I never knew I held such a key position."

"Any great nobleman would do," corrected Feldon, "you just happened to be convenient."

"And here I thought I was special," sighed Mulligan in feigned dismay.

"No one is special in his dark majesty's service," shivered Iris, "we are all of us tools."

"I am glad you have already realized that very important fact," hissed the returned Ludwig, "I've orders for each of you, but remember, you are each expendable and replaceable and none will care should you break."

A Little More Scandal in the Park with No Tea to Follow

"This is getting more than a little ridiculous, not to mention convoluted," sighed his lordship to a certain Gentleman as they sat at their leisure in the second best parlor.

The First looked up from his paper and grinned, "you mean you have a hard time remembering who we work for at the moment?"

"Precisely," said Mulligan with a shake of his head, "things were so much simpler when I simply moped around this great house wondering what it all meant."

"Perhaps simpler," agreed Feldon, "but certainly more dismal."

"There is that, I suppose," grinned Mulligan ruefully, "but now I'm a triple agent and rather unsure whether I'm coming or going or have met myself in the middle!"

"At least it won't get dull," chuckled the First, glancing half-heartedly at his paper, "except when we are ordered to sit tight and be proper gentlemen, to do nothing that would give the Standards or Society even the briefest pause."

"It is a bit inconvenient taking orders from such a source," grimaced Mulligan, "but I guess there's nothing for it but to plow through."

"This is certainly one of my more unique assignments," agreed the Gentleman, "but I believe I say that with each and every one."

"I wonder what Iris and that Thing are up to," mused Mulligan, having nothing much else to do but read the paper or stare at the wall, the latter being the more productive discipline of the two; maybe he should take up needlework like the ladies seemed to find soothing, little knowing that neither had touched their particular projects in years.

"I don't think we want to know," said the Gentleman with a shudder, "how long until we have to go prepare for our evening out?"

"Another hour at least," sighed Mulligan, eager even to dress for a dull evening out, another order from that atrocious Thing! He had to repair his much damaged reputation if he was to be of the least interest or use to their dread master hereafter. But it would be poor Iris who had to take the brunt of the infamy, or was it the fiend he should be pitying?, for the lady could certainly handle herself!

"I really don't like this," protested Iris as the fiend escorted her to some undisclosed location upon a very disagreeable assignment.

"You should have thought about that before irrevocably swearing your soul to evil!" chuckled the creature maliciously, "get used to not liking much of anything, sweetheart! Joy is not a concept with which our master is familiar, and now neither are we." She scowled at him but he only laughed the more, though there was no mirth in it, only wicked delight at her misery. "Here we are," said he, opening a little gate that opened on a footpath winding through the Park, adding as he pushed her inside, "here it began, thus also let it end!"

They ambled to the middle of the great greensward, every eye upon the most scandalous person currently to be found amongst the good Citizens of the Realm. Said she, tremulous at first, sensing every ear was open to the least of her whispers, "it was not his fault. The Lord Mulligan had no choice but to throw himself at my feet; I am a very dangerous Thing! I only come forward now because I have been discovered and am forced to release my prey, lest it be the worse for me."

There was no applauding or cheering, no uproar or excited chatter, merely a silent astonishment and disgust. Ludwig wasn't sure which would be the best course of action to salvage Mulligan's reputation: to let matters play out naturally, meaning a wedding with a murder or jilting to follow, or to have the woman come forward and declare herself a sorceress. He had decided on the latter, hoping Mulligan would look blameless in the affair, but perhaps allowing oneself to be ensorcelled was about as bad as being a sorcerer oneself, at least in the eyes of the Citizenry. Whereas murdering the chit wouldn't do much but get his lordship hanged and being jilted by such a wench would be even worse for his reputation. Better to have him be thought a witch's dupe rather than dead or betrayed.

He let the woman's words sink in before suddenly setting her ablaze with his dark magic, crying aloud, "let your sorcery be ended, witch!"

Within moments there was nothing left of the lady, not even a bit of ash, for his magical fire was efficient indeed! At this the crowd grew uneasy, for now he appeared to be a sorcerer himself, drat! He vanished in a billow of smoke that drifted away on the lazy wind, leaving an ominous silence that broke into eager chatter before everyone scattered hither and yon to tell all and sundry what they had seen.

The gentlemen arrived at the stylish house whereat the Social Event of the evening was being held, little knowing of the excitement in the Park just a few hours prior. His Lordship's arrival was announced with both eagerness and trepidation, for they knew not how to treat a man who might still be ensorcelled or could be so again; how did one tell? Was it a character flaw that enabled one to be thus enthralled or mere happenstance? The Standards were strangely silent on that particular fact, requiring the Queen to appoint a special taskforce to address just that, but there could be no answer in less than twenty years, so what was to be done in the meantime? Perhaps the man himself would give them some clue.

And so he did, acting the dullest and most tedious he had ever been in his entire life, much pleasing Society as he assiduously kept to the Standards, and wishing he could do anything but, desperate enough even to join ranks with evil, wait, that was what had gotten him into this regrettable situation in the first place. But he was well on his way to becoming the most boring man alive, and therefore the most interesting, at least if Society had any say in the matter.

Once they finally got home, some hours or more likely an eternity later, they found Iris and her disagreeable companion waiting for them; she would never complain about following Mildred around like a lost puppy ever again after keeping such dreadful company!

"How did it go, gentlemen?" queried the primary fiend.

"Dreadful," sighed Mulligan in dismay.

"Exactly as you might wish it," interpreted the primary Gentleman, "I do not doubt he is Society's darling boy and most eligible bachelor once more. The public has seemingly decided that once being ensorcelled has made him wary of ever being so again, and it may even have terrified him back to minding the Standards as should ever have been his wont."

"Excellent," chortled the horrid Thing.

"Can we have some tea now?" queried Iris hopefully.

"No!" bellowed the incensed creature, "proper fiends don't drink tea, ever!"

"How utterly dreadful!" repined the balance of the company.

"That's what I tried to tell you," lectured Mildred, suddenly joining the fray, "these Things are grossly uncivilized."

"You're too late," laughed the malicious Ludwig, "you can do nothing for any of them now!"

"Be that as it may," growled she, "I can still do something about you."

"Ha!" spat he, "Have at me woman!"

With a shrug and a very prim, auntish smile, she pulled a hairpin from her coiffure, which suddenly became a sword and a moment later, smote the fiend right through the heart or would have, if he still had one. He vanished with an embarrassed epithet and a burst of smoke. She stared from one to the other and demanded of the lot of them, "just what are you doing?"

Iris shrugged ruefully, "we haven't the foggiest, milady, save we are quite parched for a bit of tea."

"Certainly," chuckled Mildred, "and you can tell me all the tale as we enjoy it. I'm not sure I've ever seen a more tangled mess and I haven't likely heard the half of it."

Tea was ordered and soon everyone was quite content with how matters stood, particularly the merry band of Thing impersonators, long deprived of tea; it wasn't just a beverage, it was the epitome of civilization, order, and peace, no wonder the fiends despised it above all else. Mildred could not help but laugh, "here you all balked at the idea of marriage and now you are joining sides with the Enemy! What am I to do with the lot of you?"

"An excellent question," grinned Iris, "what next is to be done? I'm quite ready for a different assignment, one not involving impersonating the undead."

"It is becoming something of a habit for you, my dear," chuckled Mildred, a sound all relished as much as their tea, for they had not heard good, honest laughter in what seemed an age. She looked at their hungry and desperate faces and smiled sadly, "it seems this task has perhaps been the hardest of your careers, poor things! We must rectify matters swiftly lest you despair utterly of your choice of occupation and abandon this service." They all brightened at this, little realizing until now just how dreadful even pretending to be in such a grim service was, how much worse for those who freely chose such an end? Mildred eyed the group thoughtfully and nodded in that way she had when they knew her possessed of a plan; they eagerly exchanged grins all around.

"What do you mean you quit?" scowled the fiend the next morning when Iris broached their decision upon his return.

"You cannot quit! You are eternally damned! You will obey or be cast into the Abyss, you mindless harpy!" berated the irate Thing.

"We'd like to see you try," countered Iris with maddening patience.

"I won't be the one meting out discipline," hissed the fiend, "my superior will."

"Well, let's get this over with," intoned his lordship, seemingly bored with the proceedings, "I have things I want to do this afternoon, and they don't include being a good little boy to impress all of Society or upholding their dratted Standards."

"You are all utter fools!" scoffed the undead minion, "my superior will deal with you!" He muttered something incomprehensible under his breath even as the room was plunged suddenly into the heart of a midwinter's night, but it did not fluster the rebels, their strange eyes could pierce even the blackest depths of starless night. They saw something congeal out of the shadows, a darker mist in the depths of night.

Grated the vulgar thing, "why am I thus summoned by you, wretch?"

The cowering minion pointed at the indifferent throng, whimpering pathetically, "these slaves will not obey, Great One. They are insolent and disobedient and must be made an example of."

"I will destroy the lot of you!" snarled the monstrosity in great wrath, "You are all equally pathetic! I gave you a simple assignment and yet you have failed utterly."

"No, Magnificent One," whined the Thing, "I have made great progress!"

The Senior Thing smiled loathsomely, "I do not see it."

"I have found recruits," squeaked the Thing in growing trepidation.

"Rebels you mean," roared the monster, "or worse!"

"What do you mean by worse?!" shivered the wretched minion.

"Did it not occur to you that these insolent creatures might be other than they seem?" scorned the brute, "When have we ever had three recruits at one time? You fool!"

"So much for our grand ruse," grinned the Foremost Gentleman, happily doffing his horrid disguise for his more usual visage, at least when he wasn't likewise impersonating a Gentleman. Iris and Mulligan shrank back in awe at the impressive warrior that suddenly stood beside them, alight from within, the shadow-wrought creatures likewise drew back, but at that dreadful radiance rather than from the stunning transformation of what was usually an easily overlooked, unassuming gentleman. He could not help but grin at his comrades' surprise, "come now, you've appeared as more terrible things, what is this to that?" He nodded encouragingly, "come now, you can do the same."

They exchanged an uneasy look, but suddenly they were as changed as their friend and exchanging a merry, rueful grin, quite incongruous in that august countenance, but it could not be helped. Finally they turned their attention back to the matter at hand, two cringing shadows barely discernable in that awful light, but it did not abate, indeed, it only grew worse, so much so that the shadows vanished utterly therein, and when it finally faded, only three rather dull seeming personages stood there, grinning so wide and brightly the sun might have envied them their Joy.

The rest of the tale was a rather predictable string of events, for his Lordship must meet an inglorious end due to either of those dreaded enemies of the Great: the gout or apoplexy, and then quietly disappear from recorded history, though some whispered he died of a broken heart, following his enchantress into whatever awaited beyond the thin veil of this mortal world. Or at least that's what Iris would have thought had she merely heard the tale rather than being part of it, but there wasn't really anyone else left in the entire City with even a smidgeon of romance in their soul so the tragedy passed almost unremarked as another arose to take the late lord's place as the most eligible bachelor in the realm.

As the coach clattered to a stop, the Lord Mulligan stood again on solid ground, looking about at the strange country about him, savoring the cool morning air as he helped his Lady step down from the carriage. Iris grinned impishly and said, "a veritable foreign land; I've ventured into the Fairy Queen's odd realm and even beyond Time, but this is my first time in a different realm."

"You're a regular world traveler, my dear," said Mulligan with a rogue grin of his own, "what are we doing here? Especially as a man whose mortal days are over."

"You're not dead yet, sir," laughed she, merry as all the birds of spring, "in fact I'm not even sure we've yet met."

"One of those 'two places at once,' adventures, eh?" mulled he, "It shall be quite intriguing, I'm sure. You know some of the more, what Society would call crazed, philosophers played with that very idea?"

"I've heard rumors," countered she, "but my reading was of quite a different nature."

"Yes," chuckled he, "you could learn all about Things, which were prohibited for a man to know aught of, whereas I could tackle outlandish philosophy and no one would interfere, but if I even thought to pick up a book of fairy tales, they reacted as if it were the very end of the world, and they had been caught without even an umbrella!"

"Whoever would think the fairy stories and the philosophers could both be right?" mused she, as he took her arm and ushered her into the great house as the servants led the way.

"There is only one Truth, dear," said he, "and every work of literature, no matter the field or genre or class, must at least hint at it. They all tell the same story, just different parts, and some contain far more fiction than others, but at the heart, perhaps it is a mere germ, but the Truth is there, if you look for it."

"Things are so much more clear when one can See," sighed she, "I pity all these benighted souls, still lost in darkness."

"That is why we fight, milady," said he solemnly, "that they may one day know the Truth, and that it will indeed set them free."

She smiled teasingly at him, "and what thought you of your reinstatement into Proper Society?"

"It was dreadful," grimaced he, "absolutely horrid, I even wondered if truly joining the Enemy's side might be better than that." He shook his head ruefully, "I know better now, that was even worse, but the way Society thinks it must live cannot be called Life, it is merely existing!"

"And they think we are the mad ones," grinned she.

He raised an eyebrow and queried, "did you not march straight into the Wood when they cast you adrift? Seeking solace nowhere else, save that mysterious place?" She smiled her affirmative and he barked a laugh, "you are mad, my dear!" At this outburst, the servant leading the way turned a rather scandalized look upon the pair, which elicited another of those strange noises, this time from them both; what it might be he could not even begin to imagine, for the nobility certainly did not possess such a thing as a sense of humor, and if they did it would be quite scandalous to let on that you did!

At last they were ushered into a grand parlor, probably the third or fourth best by the look of it, therein to await the mistress of the house. At least there was an abundance of tea and everything that should go with it; Iris was rather astonished at her own dismay at such a dearth in their last mission. Could she not control herself better than that? Could she not go without a mere trifle for the duration of a single mission?

Mulligan smiled gently at her obviously perturbing thoughts and said, seeming to read her mind, "we all felt the same dear heart, but it wasn't the lack of tea, as we originally assumed, but rather the lack of what Tea represents: home, comfort, familiarity, peace, freedom, order, rest, and the chance to simply be oneself, though the last is lacking in most Standard Tea Parties. We found only the opposite within our dreadful, if feigned, service to the Enemy, which made the paltry attempts thereat by Society seem Paradise by comparison, which is why we are now growing wistful over something so benign and homely as a cup of tea."

She smiled gratefully, "when you say it like that, it makes all the sense in the world, and here I thought I was simply going mad!"

"I do not believe you can go mad, milady," said he, adding with a laugh, "nor die of the gout either."

"I would not laugh so about the gout, sir," said a new voice, one quite put out by the gentleman's levity at so serious a topic, "it has carried away greater men than you!"

They stood the moment they heard the new voice, so engrossed with their conversation they had failed to see her enter, much embarrassed, they exchanged the proper courtesies before resuming their seats. Said Mulligan with a slightly ironic tinge to his voice, "I beg your pardon, milady; I did not mean to denigrate those who have succumbed to that dread disease. I was merely teasing my Lady."

"Teasing a lady, particularly your own, is nearly as bad as joking about a serious illness," corrected their hostess.

"You would make Aunt Mildred proud," grinned the former Dowager to her erstwhile ward.

"Gracious, I would at that!" said the horrified Anastasia, nee Bellaire, "I've only been married a fortnight and already I'm sounding like a matron of sixty years!" She sat chummily beside the former Dowager and grinned, as if she were but an unmarried girl of six instead, which was not an improvement, queried she, "I thought you content to remain a Dowager for all time?"

"Things happen," said Iris ironically, eliciting a grin from his Lordship at her pun, but only a nod of understanding from her former ward.

"A pity you did not come to my wedding or I to yours," sighed the girl, "mine was a lavish affair and I enjoyed every minute. Now I'm simply a married woman and there is no more grand party or boasting of my conquest; I'm boring and everything Proper, though mumsie would be proud!" Iris did not reply to this, thinking it rather heartless to inform the girl that the Queen was probably never proud of anything or happy with anyone. "How was your wedding?" asked the girl, hoping for an extensive detailing of the entire affair, after which it would be considered only proper to recite her own, but Iris wisely avoided that particular trap and deftly turned the subject, for new brides were almost as socially ill-received as people who could talk of nothing but genealogy.

"How are you finding married life, living in a strange country, and being mistress of your own home?" asked Iris, knowing those particular subjects could not take up more than a sentence or two of the insipid girl's thoughts, whereas half her brain was likely clogged with the color of the satin on her gown and how much the cake cost per crumb.

"Wives don't really matter much," sighed poor Anastasia, "at least in a noble household; we're pretty much decorative, much like the statuary, but at least we don't need to be dusted. I wouldn't know much about living in a foreign land, it is pretty much like everything I've experienced back home: dull parties, duller people, needlework. Not much has changed, save there's no Aunt Mildred to nag me about my grammar," said she with an indifferent shrug, "what of you?"

"It's nothing new to me either," smiled Iris wryly.

"Do you know, sir," grinned the Princess reminiscently, "I once fancied catching you myself."

"I do not doubt it," sighed Mulligan, who had no fond memories of his rather happily limited love life. The rabidity with which the female populace courted his attention was one of the primary factors that drove him into voluntary social exile.

"How ever did this lady catch you?" queried the rather imprudent Princess.

"We were rather unwittingly thrown together," said Iris quite honestly.

"Even for such a catch, milady," grinned Anastasia, "I don't think I could have given up the freedom a Dowager possesses for any man."

"It wasn't exactly my choice either," smiled Iris ruefully, "but it is what it is."

At last the girl broached upon the subject of their visit, very much a relief after all the awkward personal and historical data was exchanged, said she, "I very much doubt you came all this way just to ask after my health, milady?"

"Is there anything wrong with a mere social call?" asked Iris blandly.

"Don't play the innocent fool with me!" said Anastasia excitedly, "There is far more to the matter than meets the eye and I know you are in on it, otherwise why come all this way?"

"To tell the truth," said Iris, "I really have no idea why we are come, save that perhaps you might find our company either pleasant or useful in some way."

"Well," said the girl eagerly, "if we might talk in private?"

Mulligan smiled broadly at the pair and said, "this is not the province of men, I shall gad about the grounds a bit and leave you ladies to conspire as you think necessary."

Anastasia gaped after the man as he left the room, "I have never met a man so understanding of his place and our needs and the propriety attendant thereto!"

"He is at that," nodded Iris appreciatively, "now what is this dire secret?"

"Well," said Anastasia eagerly, glancing around furtively, as if she expected Aunt Mildred to be lurking under the sofa, "as you know, I am a Princess and married to a foreign Prince, even if he is the seventh in line for the throne, he's still a Prince! But here's the problem: I'm not sure if I'm suited to all this intrigue and the political machinations that will be expected of me."

"Aunt Mildred didn't raise you to be a politician?" mused Iris with a thoughtful frown, though from what she had learned of Mildred, the woman was a born politician, general, and aunt, and even more impressive, she had a heart and wisdom to go along with her natural skills, not to mention a real sense of humor. She was not a woman to be trifled with or bothered with trifles, therefore she had no difficulty assuring the distraught young lady that Mildred, for all her seeming Auntishness, was certainly a force of nature and would have taught her charge all she needed to know pertaining to her future endeavors.

"That is good to hear," sighed the girl in relief, "for you see, I am engaged in my first intrigue."

At this Iris quite literally flinched, what was this harebrained heiress up to now? Asked she as calmly as she could muster, "and what might that be?"

"I met an important foreign gentleman at a party the other night," said she, "he has promised to call on me this very evening upon a matter of great importance."

"Where is your husband?" asked Iris.

"He's never home," grinned Anastasia, "this plot is fully my own! Isn't this exciting?"

"It's something, certainly," grimaced Iris, as ever Aunt Mildred could. "I'd like to be here when he comes," added she.

"Absolutely not!" said Anastasia in distress, "This is a private intrigue and who knows what he'd do if a stranger were present. I'll tell you all about it afterwards but you must give me your word that you won't try and interfere or listen in."

"If I must," said Iris grudgingly, knowing it was the only way the silly girl would cooperate at all, and it must be something dreadful as she wasn't likely to be dispatched on a mere social call to a former acquaintance.

"He'll be here any moment," urged the girl.

"I'll go stroll about the grounds with his Lordship then," said Iris, immediately rising and making herself scarce even as she heard the sound of the distant doorbell.

It was a very different Anastasia that met Iris at a door opening on the back gardens later that evening, the girl was white as milk and shaking like a leaf in a windstorm. She gave Mulligan that significant look that women have that means, 'go do something useful and leave this to me,' which no man has ever yet deciphered the meaning thereof, but he could glean enough from the situation and the people in it, that he wisely chose to make yet another round of the gardens, leaving the ladies to themselves.

"That horrid, horrid, horrid man!" sobbed the girl, collapsing in the arms of the other woman. Iris didn't bother asking questions of the wretched creature, who was hardly rational in her calmest moments, and would certainly be incoherent in the throes of her agony, whatever it was. Instead, she helped her upstairs to her chambers, sent the maids scurrying for tea and bandages and hot water and smelling salts, and then just let the poor child sob herself into quiescence.

At last she spoke, though the hot water had grown cold and the bandages went untouched, much like that poor volume on Natural History, but the tea at least was beneficial, "here I thought I would have my very first intrigue and instead I merely entertain a cad! That's it, a man simply reaching for things he could not have, daring to look above his station and invade mine!"

"What happened?" asked Iris, wondering that a little impudence on this man's part could have such a grave impact on the girl's emotions and mental wellbeing, perhaps it was the collapse of her grand scheme rather than anything the fellow had or had not done?

"He was escorted in," said she gravely, as if reciting some grim tale out of legend around a winter fire to help pass the long, dark night, "and made some drab little remark about the house or my finery or something equally mundane. He then sat and smiled at me, such an awful smile it was too! There was no mirth in it, he smiled like a man who had just bought a fast horse and was musing upon all the money it would soon be winning him in the races. I didn't like it in the least!"

"I should think not," said Iris, "such a possessive attitude towards a person, especially with whom one is barely acquainted, is atrocious."

Continued she, "then he said, 'had I more to work with, we might do much with you, milady, but I fear one cannot build a grand foundation upon a bed of clay.' Whereat he smiled very wickedly, took my hand, and held it between both his own. He laughed in a way that was like to chill my very blood and then dashed from the house as if the hounds were after him. I had half a mind to do just that, but he so unnerved me that I could do naught but come looking for you, in hopes you could unravel this mystery."

"Let me see your hand," said Iris grimly.

"It is nothing," said the girl with a shrug, "it is a tad numb and there seems to be a slight bruise, but it does not hurt."

Iris turned over the afflicted hand and gasped; it was the Creeping Death.

"This is bad, Anastasia," said Iris quietly, "this is very bad."

"How bad can it be?" grinned the girl, if wanly, holding her afflicted hand and caressing it anxiously, like a nervous old lady with her little dog.

"You have a week, perhaps two, before it spreads over the entirety of your body," said Iris sadly.

"My complexion!" shrieked the girl in terror.

"Nay, your very life!" said Iris with a grim shake of her head.

"What is life without my looks?" snapped the girl, "There must be a cure!"

"If there is one," said Iris grimly, "it is unknown and certainly outside the purview of men."

"Things?" asked the girl with a shudder.

"Perhaps," said Iris slowly, "but I believe if there was a cure, it would be recorded, at least in the book I've had opportunity to peruse, but it isn't."

"So I'm just to die, first to become a hideous freak and then to die?!" protested the girl, "just sit here and die and do nothing?"

"What is to be done?" countered Iris, "A trip into the Fairywood, the one place one might look for a cure, would be just as fatal."

"But certainly more private," said Anastasia, "what will Society think if I die like this in its midst? What would mumsie say?"

"That would be an awful sight indeed," mused Iris in grim amusement, remembering her own rather tragic end at the hands thereof. Come to think of it, the Queen would likely wonder what she was doing visiting the Princess, since she was supposed to be dead! The girl knew nothing of the matter, but the Queen was certainly aware of the fact, having done everything to engineer the unfortunate Dowager's fate but to swing the ax.

"So let's gad off to the Fairywood and either find our fate or a cure," said the girl eagerly, "just like that woman who was the first wife of my erstwhile beloved, who knows what became of her?"

"Who indeed?" said Iris with a quizzical smile. But adding more soberly, "what of your husband, mother, and the like?"

"I'll just write a note that I eloped with that foreign gentleman that got me into this mess," said Anastasia with grim amusement, "it will serve the cad right if he ever dares to show his face in proper company again."

Iris could not help but laugh, "see, Aunt Mildred did teach you something. Write your note and we'll be on our way immediately. We'll smuggle you out in our coach and none will be the wiser until your letter is discovered."

"We?!" blanched the girl, "you are not going to tell that husband of yours, are you?"

"You'll have need of us both, dear," said Iris bluntly, "he is discretion itself, a rare trait in a man."

"He has acted his part superbly thus far," agreed the girl, "besides, what choice have I? Very well, let us be about it then." She wrote her note, a very Socially Acceptable way to vanish if one were a flighty young female of means, almost as good as the gout for gentlemen of a slightly more advanced age. By the time she finished, Iris was just ascending into the carriage with Mulligan soon to follow. Anastasia came out, as if to bid them farewell, and then vanished off into the dark gardens, as if intent on a late night stroll. The coach rattled off, stopping along the main drive near a little used gate into the gardens, abandoned at this hour, save for a certain young lady in desperate straits. She leaped into the waiting vehicle and they vanished into the night, quite literally.

Anastasia dozed off, exhausted from all the excitement and intrigue of the day, as the Messengers talked quietly of the girl's plight and what, if anything, was to be done about it. Mulligan mused, "it will be quite interesting to see this Wood of yours, I have heard much but have yet to experience it for myself."

"There isn't much to see," said Iris, "mostly just ancient trees, a little weedy undergrowth, and an abundance of eerie mist, that and the occasional rock, branch, and vampire."

"You're quite correct," agreed he dryly, "all my strolling about the park today is like to be far more exciting, at least I managed to startle a couple unwary sheep in the process."

"You know what I mean!" scowled she in good-natured ire. Adding in a more serious tone, "this will be dreadfully dangerous for the girl. There is quite literally an open season on mortals who stray therein. My own brother was hunted down like a beast when he came looking for me!"

"Can we not protect the silly child?" asked he in confusion.

"We can certainly try," said Iris slowly, "but we cannot prevent or interfere with the legal actions of others, even if we object to them as utterly wrong or unjust. Neither can we do aught to thwart a mortal's decisions or actions, they must be left to make their own choices and live with the consequences."

"So we just have to stand aside and let the girl be murdered by some sport-happy elfling?" said he in wonder.

"She knows the risks and has chosen to act thus; so too does the elfling have the right to act as he chooses, no matter that we know it to be wrong," sighed she, "no more can we step in and decide a political matter among men or thwart a murderer in his crimes, unless we are bidden explicitly to do so. That is to say that a miracle be sent to spare those who would otherwise perish. For is that not what a miracle is: a bending or breaking of natural laws or timing to accomplish some unlikely or impossible end?"

"So we can only thwart a person's will or actions when divinely ordered to do so?" said Mulligan thoughtfully.

"Quite," said she, "else none would be free to make their own choices and our free will would be moot."

He glanced at the sleeping girl, snoring soundly in the opposite seat, said he rather sadly, "and what if she chooses against our Master?"

"It is ever her choice to do just that," said Iris quietly, "just as it is to go into this forsaken Wood and risk everything in hopes of finding a cure."

"It sounds impossible," said he grimly.

"It is," said she with a wistful smile, "but that is His specialty, and ours."

"Then there is yet hope," agreed Mulligan quietly, as the girl slept on unaware.

Into the Woods

At last the coach jolted to a stop, waking the hitherto blissfully senseless Anastasia, "we're here!" And out she tumbled, not waiting for anyone else or even bothering to look both ways before crossing the glade. The others exchanged a patient look and a rueful smile before doing likewise, save they did survey the immediate surroundings, but as promised, there was nothing but a murky gloom and a few ancient tree stems there to greet them. His business finished, the phantom coachman took up his reins and vanished as if he had never been, Anastasia too busy squinting into the brume for something exciting to notice and Mulligan determined not to be surprised at anything in this odd occupation where anything was possible and anything might be.

"Here we are," said Iris, trying to sound as cheery as one might amid such gloomy ambiance.

"Now what?" queried the girl, unhappily not yet possessed of a cure.

"We hope to find a cure before Things find us," said Iris, "mortals are fair game, quite literally, in this place."

"How horrid!" said Anastasia in disgust, little liking the idea of being considered little more than the object of someone's sport!

"It is their land and their laws, my dear," said Iris sadly, "and those who do not abide by them must face the consequences, whether we like them or not."

"You'd best lose the husband and go back to being a Dowager," sighed the girl, "or perhaps you've missed your calling as an Aunt!"

"I've just spent too long around Mildred," laughed Iris heartily, "but I hope as many of her good qualities have left their mark as it seems some of her more tedious tendencies have!"

"Do you know anything of the physics, or metaphysics, of this place?" asked Mulligan of Iris, glancing about skeptically.

"Have you come across nothing in your more intriguing books or among your more creative philosophers?" replied she.

"None were this creative or intriguing, milady," grinned he.

"I know but little," mused she, "in here time and space do not function in the manner to which we are accustomed. We are not necessarily beyond time or space, but rather they are not exactly linear. It seems what and who are much more important than where or when."

"That sounds like a headache in the making," sighed Mulligan, "I'm sure my head would explode if I tried to wrap my mind around it!"

"That sounds rather messy," said the girl with a grimace.

"It isn't much different than asking a baby to understand our own reality," countered Iris, "it simply takes time, patience, and experience."

Mulligan glanced around grimly, "it would be an eternity ere any mortal ever figured it out."

"That's why mortals aren't allowed in the Wood," hissed an angry voice.

Iris grinned at the young seeming elf maiden that had appeared out of the murk to chastise them, she seemed rather taken aback at this reaction; Anastasia's gaping or even Mulligan's stony silence were far more comprehensible to the elfin lady, but to grin openly at something that should either be fictitious or terrifying was unheard of, perhaps the creature was mad? Persisted the elfin lady, "I warn you, the Queen is even now mounting her horse, if you value your lives, flee this very moment!"

"Our lives are of little value at the moment," replied Iris calmly, "we have come seeking the impossible."

"The improbable, perhaps," sniffed the elf, "but the impossible is as impossible here as it is in your own world. The House would be the place to seek the impossible, if its Master would grant your petition."

"I had not thought of that," smiled Iris wistfully, again astonishing milady of the Pixie-folk, did anything confound or intimidate the woman? "Would you happen to know if there is a cure for the Creeping Death to be found in this Wood of yours?"

The lady shuddered in disgust, saying grimly, "not amongst the elves, certainly, but perhaps there is a witch or other practitioner of the darker sorts of magic that might avail you, but amongst civilized folk, your quest is vain."

"We cannot avail ourselves of the necromancers," said Iris in abhorrence, "is it not a thing of their contrivance?"

"And so would they know the cure," said the elf haughtily, as if it were obvious, "if there is one to be found. But if you will not seek their aid, a Miracle is your only hope."

Her eyes narrowed, "why do you not fear me or the Wood? How are you so bold as to stand here bantering when your doom is surely upon you? Which of you is accursed?"

"The girl," said Iris with a grim shake of her head, "and the Bloodless have nothing to fear, even from the Lady of the Wood herself."

The elvish lady said with a grim smile, "I understand," she looked with disgust on Anastasia, "and the Tainted One will not be troubled by our folk, if she will do the same for us." She stepped back into the mist and vanished as suddenly as she had come.

Anastasia stared blankly from one lady to the other, as if she had never heard nor seen such goings on, "what was that?" declared she in exasperation, "one might as well try to comprehend the gabbling of geese!"

Iris was quite pleased to realize the girl had heard nothing of the rather perplexing conversation, for it could only result in more questions and anxiety than it answered, but it seemed their only options were necromancy or a visit to that most perplexing of domiciles, and since they could certainly have nothing to do with the former, the latter it must be. "To the carriage," said milady Iris to the completely astonished Anastasia, "there is no answer in the Wood."

With a shrug, she hied herself into the suddenly arrived vehicle and continued to nag the elder lady for the entirety of the journey, which was happily very short, while Mulligan was wise enough to remain silent, mostly to ward off attracting the girl's attention to himself. Iris ignored them both, perplexed with a muddle all her own. Could one even take a mortal out of their world without causing grievous harm? But then the girl was doomed anyway if no cure was found, and if a miraculous cure was given, certainly any damage incurred in the procurement thereof would likewise be dealt with. It was her only chance either way, and if there was no cure, what then?

They disembarked almost as soon as they had entered the vehicle, much to the girl's vexation for she had wheedled nothing out of her silent companions, and she could only frown in consternation at their destination: an old rambling country manor? What on earth could avail them here if the Wood could not? The place didn't look either magical or medicinal, not in the least! At the girl's rather puzzled and unimpressed look, Iris said quietly, "if there is a cure to be found, it must be here, but this is a very strange house and cannot be judged on superficial appearances. I cannot even say what will come of you once we enter, but it is your only chance. Will you risk it?"

The girl scoffed lightly, "what harm or help is to be found within? But if I must I will. Lead on!"

Iris rang the bell and the perpetual gnome was immediately there to usher them in, not that he ever said anything or greeted anyone, at least not that Iris was aware, but he was not the puzzle she had to solve at the moment. The girl brightened immediately and dashed down the hall with an excited, "do you hear that!" The elder pair exchanged a quizzical look before following silently in her wake, but at a much more leisurely pace, soon losing her in her exuberance but knowing exactly what it was that had captured her fancy, as the strains of a popular dance tune likewise drew them thither.

It was a full-fledged ball! Dancers jammed the floor while even more people clogged the edges of the room, gossiping and exchanging idle banter. "This is certainly more lively than the quilting circle or those gentlemen of knowledge," said Iris with a perplexed smile, "but is it any different?"

"Let us see," said Mulligan, sweeping her off into the reeling dancers, both watching for their ward as they moved through the familiar patterns.

After about an hour of whirling through the throng or moving through the spectators, Iris proclaimed, "it is certainly as tedious as any ball I ever attended, but does that mean it is just a ball or something more?"

Mulligan replied, "is anything in this peculiar house ever what it appears?"

"No," said Miss Iris, "so where has Miss Anastasia Bellaire lost herself?"

"She has chosen the lesser things," said an airy voice as a certain Bird flitted quite incongruously over their heads, "and thus her own doom."

"So much for our quest," sighed Iris sadly, hating the very thought of resigning even Miss Bellaire to such a fate, but it was her choice to make and made it she had.

"At least we need not remain here indefinitely," said Mulligan hopefully.

Iris could not help but smile wryly, "that we do not," she proffered her arm and he genially took it, "let us likewise choose our doom, and let it not be to remain here a moment longer than we must!"

Rather they found a quiet little room full of books and a warm fire with tea for four awaiting them. "This is more like it," grinned Mulligan eagerly, "I wonder who else is invited?"

But they had not time to contemplate the matter further, for soon Gentleman the First and Second were seating themselves as introductions were made and the cake was passed out. "You truly don't have a name?" asked the perplexed Mulligan of the Second.

Grinned the First, "he does, just as I do, but it is a carefully guarded secret." His face fell in feigned dismay, "but alas, my own is no longer thus."

"Sorry old friend," grinned Mulligan in quite a contrary fashion to his words, "it was unwittingly done."

"I hold no grudge, my friend," sighed the First expansively, "but what now is to sustain me through all the arduous tasks and strange journeys yet to come?"

"Probably whatever gets the rest of us through them," smiled Iris mercilessly.

"So I must resign myself to being a nameless cog amid a vast throng of equal disinterest?" said the First in mock dread.

"I thought that was what this whole ordeal was about: being nameless?" queried Mulligan, "What then is the problem?"

"He wasn't nameless," explained Iris patiently, "rather he enjoyed keeping others perplexed as to the reality thereof."

"You have destroyed the mystique I once prided myself on," agreed Feldon sadly, "now I'm simply dull and uninteresting like everyone else."

"Only to a certain privileged few," corrected Iris.

"The Lady does have a point, my friend," chuckled the Second, "for you see I missed the adventure entirely and have no idea what your given name is."

"Ah!" said the First in relief, "you are quite right milady, as usual. I am very much in your debt."

"As is only proper," agreed Iris with a very disturbingly Mildred-esque grin.

"As pleasant as this is," began Mulligan, "is it a regular occurrence, this sitting over tea and chatting blithely at our leisure?"

"You are asking if we actually require rest and good society?" mused the First. At Mulligan's nod, he grinned the more and answered, "Physically, no we do not require rest or sleep or any such refreshment, but we certainly need rest and companionship for the continued wellbeing of our souls, our minds, and our emotions. While it may superficially seem like a waste of time to sit here at our leisure, laughing at nothing in particular, it is in nowise so inefficient, indeed it is quite vital to our continued health and ability to function in this most peculiar of occupations. Even the Master Himself rested after making the worlds, but it was not because He was in any way tired. Besides, what is an hour or a year beyond time? There is time enough and more to both accomplish what we must and see to the needs of our own souls."

"Indeed!" said Mulligan brightly, "That is grand news, for I always thought I would enjoy the company of others, if only we could break free of the Standard Protocols stifling all intimacy and candor between individuals."

"Here we can be nothing but ourselves," agreed the Second, he grinned impishly and added, "perhaps soon you will be missing your cold, vapid, and distant relationships of your former life?"

"Please, no!" said Mulligan in dread, "I've had enough such conversations to last me an eternity or three."

"But is that not what Miss Bellaire has chosen?" said Iris pathetically, "To be an insipid and vapid creature for all eternity and completely surrounded by such; how dreadful!"

The First gently took her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze, "we all must choose our own fate, dear heart. She would be quite ill-at-ease and unhappy in such a gathering as this, were we to force her into it, though we thought it the greatest kindness in the world, she would in nowise see it thus."

"I know," sighed Iris wretchedly, "but I wish there was something I could do or might have done?"

He shook his head sadly, "even the Master will not force a will in such a matter, and think how much more it must break His heart, for are not they each His children and handiwork, redeemed by His own blood?"

"We can but do our best that others might have every chance to hear and decide for themselves," said the Second gravely, "the rest is up to them."

Iris smiled wistfully, "glad am I that it was you that happened upon me when I so foolishly stumbled into that Wood."

"There was no stumbling or happenstance about it, milady," grinned the First, "the meeting was ordained before the stars were lit."

Mulligan shook his head ruefully, "just when I think I am beginning to understand anything, it all gets rather more complicated; am I ever to know anything?"

"It is not what you know, but Whom," smiled the First, "remember that and you shall have no trouble at all."

"Never forget your Books and Aunt Mildred," added Iris cheekily, "I'm sure both will prove an invaluable source of information throughout your adventures."

Said Gentleman the First in astonishment, "you find Mildred a good resource for information?"

Said the Second, "you have gotten a straight answer out of the Iron Lady?"

"I never said that," countered Iris, "I merely meant one can infer much from what she doesn't say. Her silences and significant looks hold more meaning than most everyone else's pithiest statements."

"And you're a chip right off the old block," chuckled Mulligan.

"I am not sure whether to be flattered or offended," mused Iris, "probably both!"

"That is the nature of a paradox," agreed the First, "and Mildred is certainly a paradox if ever I've met one." They chatted on in this manner for what might have been an age, but at last, each felt the need to be about their duties once more and each pair vanished from the house, adventure bent once more. Iris and Mulligan found themselves in the garden, strangely awaiting the advent of the apparently tardy coachman.

Iris shook her head, "this has never happened before. Nothing keeps the fellow, ever he is there exactly when and where we have need of him!"

"Perhaps this adventure shall be slightly different," mused Mulligan, "perhaps we should inquire of the man in charge of the stables? Certainly there must be a fabulous stable attached to this bizarre establishment!"

"It would be even better than a trip to the Royal Zoo," said Iris eagerly, "indeed, it is just the thing! Lead on!"

Mulligan stared at her blankly for a moment, blinked in realization that nobody knew where anything was in this peculiar place, and blithely led the way as if he had been walking those endless corridors all his life. They found the stables without any difficulty, and it seemed the house gnome's brother was the person in charge, for there he stood in the courtyard, nearly an exact replica, equally silent and indifferent, but holding two fabulous horses by the reins.

Iris studied the creatures carefully, hoping to discover if they were simply light-wrought phantoms or the real thing. There was something she missed about being aback a real animal, the unpredictability added a hint of zest or adventure or uncertainty that the completely indifferent and unflappable phantoms lacked. But it was impossible to tell just by looking at the creatures, for they stood there as indifferent and unperturbed as the man who held their heads. With a shrug, she flung herself aback the nearest beast and was delighted to discover he frisked excitedly as her weight settled into the saddle. Mulligan had done likewise, and without a word, they turned towards the road and galloped off with all the heedless joy of a lad of twelve aback his pony without a nurse, groom, or servant to stifle his exuberance.

"A real horse!" sighed Iris in delight to Mulligan, "I forgot how much fun it is to ride the real thing." He stared at her blankly and she explained a bit of her recent experience with phantoms.

"I can see why you would so delight in a change, milady," grinned he, "I must say I haven't ridden enough myself, especially during all my gloomy soul searching, I hardly ever haunted the stable of late. But there is no better tonic to the mood or soul than dashing about aback a fine steed wherever the whim takes you. But what of your uncle's stables? Surely you had the chance to ride then?"

"Merely a mortal horse," said she with a pensive look, "even the finest was a nag in comparison to this glorious beast!"

"The Horse as he was meant to be?" proposed Mulligan, "Had the world never been broken and creation cursed with death and sorrow?"

"Perhaps," mused she, "what might man himself have been in such a circumstance?"

"We shall never know, me thinks," said he quietly, "is it not a 'might have been?' A thing far outside our province of knowledge?"

"Yes," said she, "yet another quandary I must resign to the pile of things I shall never know."

"But we can be satisfied in knowing that He had far more and far better planned for us than our meager imaginations can even begin to anticipate," countered he, "has it not been so thus far and we have barely begun!"

"I suppose it is small loss at that," agreed she, brightening significantly, "what is 'might have been,' to the glorious Is?"

"A mere candle to the sun, milady," said he with a wide grin, "keep your focus thus and you will never be disappointed."

Their philosophical musings tapered off as they found themselves jostling through the crowded streets of midday, eager to see what this new adventure might be. But it wasn't much of an adventure, at least not at the first, as they dismounted before a fashionable inn. Sighed Miss Iris, "I was hoping for a seedy tavern at least; this is the most fashionable inn in town!"

"We are not exactly dressed to go skulking about in disreputable drinking establishments, milady," grinned Mulligan, "we would stick out like a peacock in a flock of chickens."

"Please!" said Iris most vehemently, "No more poultry references!"

"Come now, milady," smiled he at his most vexing, "you must know that designer fowl are by now considered quite antiquated and something even more tedious has taken its place as the only proper pursuit of prosperous young ladies."

"I'm afraid to ask what that might be," shuddered Iris in dread, grateful she had missed almost all of the requisite fads that swept through the City's modish population of the female persuasion with all the intensity of a tsunami every fortnight or so. As both a common man's daughter and a social matron, she was happily not required to participate therein, but all the unmarried daughters of the well-to-do were not thus spared, for what else would they talk about at social functions or repine over in despairing tones to their closest kith and kin?

"His Lordship is quite correct, milady," said mine host, approaching the pair eagerly to see to their luggage and comfort, "beaded handbags are the newest craze to sweep the City."

Iris frowned, "I thought beaded purses were a Thing a year or two ago?"

The man yanked his forelock and said grimly, hating the very idea of correcting a lady, but it could not be helped, it was quite indecorous of her to remain deceived if he could do aught to enlighten her, "my Lady must remember that there is quite a difference between a purse and a handbag."

"Ah!" smiled Iris ruefully, "how silly of me! Of course, a purse is only carried by such creatures as maiden aunts and grandmothers! Handbags are for prim young ladies of breeding yet of marriageable age. I quite forgot myself!"

The man looked quite relieved to see this was a true Lady, for who else could understand such a delicate matter, and yet he had escaped with his head for his impudence. At last their servant came in, Iris grinning brightly to see the Imp loaded down with the baggage she did not even know they possessed, at which reaction the innkeeper began to wonder anew if this was truly a lady or not. Perhaps she was newly risen from the commonfolk by an enviable alliance, though rare such things did happen. The only thing better than a proper Lady visiting his establishment was one with a scandalous past! He rubbed his hands together eagerly before pointing the way upstairs where the boy might deposit the baggage.

"I suppose I had best go rest and freshen up," said Iris grimly, "while you go prowl around and discover something interesting."

"It would be the Proper thing to do," said Mulligan, valiantly squelching a grin.

"At least I can go consult with our companion," said she.

"You are old acquaintances then?" queried he.

"Certainly," said she with a reminiscent smile, "he used to serve my uncle as his personal valet."

Mulligan frowned, "but is he not one of the Woodfolk?"

"An imp," grinned she, looking very much like one herself, "but also a comrade-in-arms."

"Nothing should surprise me anymore," said he with a low bow, "I bid you good afternoon, milady." She curtsied to the proper degree and went to consult with the bag boy, which would have prostrated the innkeeper with the apoplexy had he any notion as to her intentions, but happily for his sake, he had none whatsoever.

Said she in great glee, once the door was safely shut, "it is lovely to see you again, but do you never tire of playing the servant?"

He grinned in the trademark fashion of his people and said, "it is almost as good as being invisible, milady, whereas you uppity types can hardly get up to anything interesting without causing a scandal, if not a riot."

"So we distract everyone while you get to have all the fun?" mused Iris solemnly, "I can see why you prefer keeping a low profile."

He shrugged, "as if we have any choice in the matter. It is simply what each of us is equipped and best suited for."

"Indeed," grinned she in vast amusement at the thought, "I do not think you would make an ideal aristocratic lady, though I can pass myself off admirably well as a vampire and a housemaid all at the same time."

"As a vampire would make a very uneasy housemaid," countered he, "I believe all you have proved is you can do likewise."

"I fear there is more truth in that statement than I'd care to admit," said she wryly, but adding more seriously, "have you an inkling of what we are up to?"

"None, milady," said he with a shake of his head, "but I'm sure it will be grand fun, if ever we figure it out."

"Quite," said she, "and if ever I discover it, you shall be the first to know."

Just then there came a knock upon the door, and as the lad answered the summons, he was handed the latest society papers for her ladyship's convenience and perusal. Said he, handing her the packet, "perhaps these will answer your conundrum?"

"I doubt it," sighed she, "usually they are either vexing or soporific, but neither interesting nor enlightening." But she dutifully sat and began to read, hoping to glean something useful from such a useless waste of words and paper. The imp grinned anew, bowed himself out, and went in search of his lordship.

An hour later, milady went downstairs to see if she could find either of the men of her company, or at least a decent cup of tea. The gentlemen were nowhere about but mine host was at her elbow immediately, promising the best tea in town in a mere trice. She seated herself in expectation thereof and began to study the other occupants of the room. There was the usual collection of ancient matrons and well-to-do widows gossiping over their tea, but nothing of interest, save an obscure piece of rather dusty pottery of foreign make sitting atop the mantle.

"Does milady have an interest in exotic urns?" queried mine host, returning with the requisite tea things.

"They must come into vogue one of these days," said she quite sensibly, "and it would not hurt to be a little ahead of the curve, would it not?"

"You are very forward thinking for a lady," said he in consternation.

"I was not born to my station," said she with a rueful smile.

"I thought as much," said he with a triumphant grin.

"I cause quite the scandal whenever I am so bold as to venture into Proper Society," sighed she.

"Better and better," assured the Innkeep.

"You are quite bold," said she, no little amused.

He yanked his forelock and grinned, "yet milady does not find me impudent?"

"By no means sir," said she, "rather intriguing."

"And his lordship," said he slowly, as if feeling his way along a tricky passage in the dark, "is he too a fan of foreign artifacts?"

"I believe he had quite an infatuation with outlandish books as a boy," grinned she.

"I would very much wish to speak with him upon the matter," hinted he, "if it would not be too bold a request to put to him. I have several friends who share his interests, indeed I do!"

"No bolder than anything else you've said or done," said she with a warm laugh, "but only if I am allowed to come too."

"A lady?!" said he, quite Properly scandalized, though happily thwarting the Standards himself in innumerable ways just now.

"Quite," said she, "what is one more flaunting of Protocol?"

"I suppose you do have a point," said he slowly, "but then it is you and your lord that must bear the brunt of the infamy, so I shall not oppose it if you are not averse thereto."

"Agreed," said she with a succinct nod, "when?"

"This evening would be agreeable," said he, "most everyone else will be out at some social event or other, else abed with the gout or the flutters, we shall have the common room quite to ourselves, as this is not a haunt of common men."

"We shall see you then," said she, with nary a hint of malice, scorn, or contempt, thus assuring the man that she could be no proper lady, no matter her official station.

Mulligan returned a few minutes thereafter, helping himself to tepid tea, he eagerly listened to the lady's proposal and found it just the thing, all his roving had proved rather vain so glad was he to have found something to occupy the evening hours, and most curious was he to see this clandestine little group of Standard thwarters for himself.

Evening came and the little gathering with it. There were five men besides the innkeeper, his lordship, and the ever astonishing lady and their servant, but as she was quite determined, none dared thwart her, they might be rebels of the least sort but they weren't fools! "I wonder if outlandish books will ever catch on like beaded handbags and fancy fowl?" mused she to the gentlemen there present.

"It is never proper and certainly dangerous," countered his lordship, "whereas handbags and poultry are only mildly dangerous and very occasionally proper."

"How vexing," sighed Iris, "perhaps if these fluttery young things had a little bit of danger, excitement, or spice in their lives, it might awaken yearnings, longings, or musings that must otherwise lay forever dormant, dooming them to insipidity and vanity all their futile lives!"

"This is why women aren't allowed to read deep books and gentlemen are left in ignorance upon Things," said mine host, "imagine what it would do to Society if women could think and men were valiant!"

"It would turn everything upside down," agreed Iris, "what is so bad about that?"

"Nothing, from your perspective, milady," grinned the innkeeper, "but unthinkable to everyone else."

"Yet they prefer to dwell in ignorance, to blindly float along like a herd of witless sheep lost on a foggy night," sighed she.

"It is easier that way," said his lordship, "laziness and comfort are of more import than meaning or purpose to most folk."

"Your lady is quite the philosopher," said the first renegade bibliophile.

"And she isn't even warmed up," grinned Mulligan.

"What of the philosophical and literary disciplines amongst your own folk?" asked Iris of the Imp.

He shook his head sadly, "they are not encouraged milady, for the very same reasons your own folk desire to live on in vainglorious ignorance."

"Wisdom and reason are the enemies of a sedentary and comfortable life," said the second philosopher of ill-repute.

"So what do you propose to do about it?" challenged my Lady.

"Us?!" said the innkeeper, all astonishment.

"What is the use of all your learning if you merely mull it over amongst yourselves?" asked she.

"She does have a point," sighed the third social rebel of literary inclination.

"But what is to be done?" countered the fourth erudite fugitive.

"Let's start a new fetish," encouraged my Lady.

Mulligan nodded grimly, "we have a fortnight to prepare ourselves before the next fad is unleashed."

"But how are such phenomena started?" said the fifth and final Standard issue rebel.

"A few ladies of breeding and status get together and discuss the glories of the subject in question," said Iris, "and the next thing you know everyone who is anyone is breeding chickens or beading handbags, or vice versa, however the case may be."

"Know you any such ladies?" queried the innkeeper, "Especially any who might be amenable to the unthinkable?"

"No," said Iris, "but is that not what Invitations are for?"

"An invitation to what?" asked Mulligan, knowing he would regret asking but that he had no other choice.

"The grand opening of your public lending library of course," grinned Iris, eliciting a groan from all the men present, but the imp grinned just as widely and perhaps even more eagerly than the lady herself.

"I have never heard the like!" exclaimed their merry host.

"Exactly why it will either be a brilliant success or a dreadful flop," said Mulligan, "it is a very good thing we are possessed of Boundless Resources; we will need them to make this venture a go!"

"And I know just the place to make it a reality," smiled the innkeeper, catching the lady's enthusiasm.

"What sort of books are we talking?" asked one of the assorted friends, probably the third or fourth, "Nothing Forbidden, I hope?"

The Lady could not help but laugh in greatest glee, "that would then defeat the purpose, for everything is Forbidden by the Standards, to a greater or lesser extent, for the very reason that nothing but the Standards measure up to the Standards. Society does turn a blind eye to certain approved periodicals and society papers, along with considering certain genres innocuous to certain persons and therefore not worth troubling over, but that would leave our Library rather sparse indeed. We must either be atrociously offensive or nothing at all, and if we are offensive enough, we shall undoubtedly succeed for something that gauche must truly be a work of genius, at least as the modern critics of art and literature judge things."

The second friend put his head in his hands with a great sigh of exasperation, "how has this Society survived this long, madam? The nonsense you have just articulated terrifyingly makes a great deal of sense, at least in our current pretext!"

"Precisely," said Mulligan grimly, "which is why we must succeed in this endeavor, for Society cannot long endure its current inanity therefore it must be quickly rectified or Civilization itself may well collapse."

"Our gentile form of tyranny and injustice cannot be much worse than whatever would replace it," said My Lady grimly.

"Evil and chaos can always grow worse, my dear," said Mulligan sadly.

"The barbarism and injustice of a society in chaos is dreadful on a physical and emotional level, I am sure," agreed Iris, "but this Society is just as barbaric and unjust, save on an emotional, intellectual, and spiritual level."

"You would criticize the Higher Barbarism?" said Lord Mulligan in astonishment.

Agreed the far too prosaic Keeper of Inn, "men never seem happy to tread the middle ground of reason, sense, and justice, but rather err either on the side of no reason or justice and slide into barbarism and chaos or they think too much and drive themselves mad with too many details and convoluted theories, resulting in an arrogant tyranny of the mind, even if the resulting society is well ordered and peaceful."

"So what is to save Society from itself?" asked friend the second, or was it the third?

"Something must draw it back from the precipice of vanity, else it will fall headlong therein," said Mulligan softly, "but it will take a miracle!"

"We can but try," said milady, looking hopefully at the innkeeper, "now where do you propose to host the City's largest and most controversial bookroom?"

Scandals Various

"I really must congratulate you," said the fifty-ninth matron of the evening to My Lady as the Public swarmed into the foyer of his Lordship's Lending Library to see the Scandal of the Season for themselves, continued she, "this is a work of pure genius and therefore must rise above the simple moral plane set by the Standards and find ample footing amongst the greatest works of art and achievement known to mankind!"

So it was the Scandal was deemed a flop, for it wasn't a scandal at all, but the Library was an immediate success, so much so that the Queen was forced to make it a National Monument and therefore sacrosanct and safe from the predations of morality and social outrage, at least on the human front, but there were worse Things than affronted human sensibilities to be overcome, but happily this was an enemy the founders of the Institution for Literary Exchange were very capable of fighting. It was an unfortunate name, but as Iris so sensibly said, "if one merely comes up with an idea of genius and implements it with all efficiency, quality, and sense, there will no doubt come innumerable challenges on any number of fronts from well-meaning but benighted individuals in the name of Social Justice or Decency or the Common Good, or other such vaporous ideals with grandiose names but no substance. Instead, if one proposes a ridiculous and grandiose name and takes it quite seriously, so too must your potential naysayers, who must then choose between taking offense at an equally silly ideal and risk exposing their own, or approving of it without the least knowledge of what it truly involves upon the theory that something so inanely named cannot be bad, for so too is their own dearest cause."

So it was the ridiculous moniker was roundly approved by all and sundry and likewise the institution itself. And it set such a precedent in social circles that the fad of reading serious literature was quite modish for almost a full month before something else replaced it, save amongst the most serious students or those whose imaginations were piqued by a brief taste, thus establishing a lifelong habit, which eccentricity they passed along to the succeeding generations.

"It was just as you predicted," said the Innkeeper joyously but a week into the phenomenon, "a grand success! I see no reason to fret over the future of your little library, my friends, indeed I do not."

Mulligan was in nowise so easy about the future of the literary arts in the City, "perhaps on the Social front, things are well in hand, but there are other Things that must be dealt with, for there are many others who will be furious over our success here and they will not long abide it without trying to destroy it and us."

"Things," said the merry host thoughtfully, "now do you mean Things or Things?"

"The residents of the Fairywood could care less about our little establishment," replied Mulligan, "I speak of Things of a far darker and more menacing nature."

"What is to be done?" said the innkeeper glumly.

"There are those who can stand against such Things," said Mulligan thoughtfully, "though I wonder who among them would wish to do so in such a role as this?"

"There is always a person for the job," remarked Mildred, coming in as if she owned the conversation, but there was no one foolish enough to contest her on the matter so therefore she must.

The Innkeeper knew an Aunt when he saw one, a Great Aunt at that, and was in nowise so silly as to dismiss her out of hand or underestimate her abilities, though he as of yet knew nothing of her rather uncanny nature. Asked Mulligan blandly, "you have a person in mind, milady?"

"What has our fine host to say upon the matter?" asked she.

"Well," said he, "to be honest, I've hardly had time to mind matters at the inn, what with helping out around here."

"And would you rather be an innkeeper or a librarian?" asked she.

"I rather like my new literary career, madam," said he pensively, but added with a shudder, "barring an encounter with Things, if you understand me."

"Things or Things?" queried she.

"Things," clarified he.

"And what if you could manage things and Things here indefinitely?" posited she.

"I'd be quite pleased, madam, that I would," said he eagerly.

"See," said Mildred with a triumphant grin for Mulligan, "it is quite a simple matter, now off with you, I'm sure you have scads to do elsewhither." With a rueful grin, Mulligan shrugged before ambling off, leaving the now rather nervous innkeeper alone with that Greatest of All Mildreds, a memorable debacle to be sure.

"That's it," said Mulligan to Iris as she looked happily up from her detested needlework, she'd rather read but since it was currently very vogue to do so, she was forced into other occupations, as she had vowed never to be caught in such an act if she could help it.

"Mildred's at it again, isn't she," said she with a cheeky grin, "I suppose you mean our patronage of the arts is at an end? I am quite glad, personally, another day of needlework and I might aspire to rejoin a certain Quilting Circle out of despair! Come, let's find something interesting to do. Philanthropy, though quite an estimable idea isn't very exciting."

Mulligan could not help but grin, "you are the only lady of my acquaintance who prefers a sword to a needle!"

"What of Mildred?" asked she, half scandalized, but mostly amused, adding thoughtfully, "I suppose you will say she's hardly a lady?"

"A soldier and a general at that, dear heart," said he, "though she can play the lady at need, there's very little deep down."

"You might very well say the same of me!" retorted the lady of the moment.

"In a few hundred years I will," grinned he, "but you've been a lady far longer than a Messenger, so there's much more of habit and ingrained thought you must doff before your more generalized character can shine through."

"A pity you have a witty retort for everything, sir," said she, "but are you coming?"

"And miss my only ride out of here?" said he in wonder, "Lead on milady!"

"What about perhaps our only chance to ride real horses?" queried she, "Are we just to leave them indefinitely with mine host?"

"I'm sure they'll be found when they're needed, dear heart," grinned he.

"Why must you always be right?" sighed she, heading for the door.

"It's a rather interesting foible at that," said he pensively, at her confused look, he added, "one cannot be both always right and the least bit interesting, madam, no matter how hard he tries."

"There is consolation indeed!" grinned she, allowing him to hand her into the waiting vehicle before it rattled off upon yet another adventure, or perhaps to a vital Tea Party, or perhaps they were one and the same, for there were adventures and Adventures, as well as tea parties and Tea Parties, just as there were things and Things. Would she ever figure it out? Could anyone?

Some weeks after the opening of the Library, henceforth we shall forget the Official Name even if Society cannot, two fashionable but unremarkable Gentlemen arrived to peruse the collection. The place was still crowded, for Serious Reading was still the fetish of choice, though beginning to wane in the most fashionable circles, it was just catching on in the least fashionable, that is amongst the commonfolk. Amongst those browsing the stacks was a very pale lady of indeterminate age, the proprietor of a rather astonishing but flourishing business. Our Merry Host watched all and sundry, particularly the lady in question, with a vastly amused light in his dancing eyes.

She approached him after a cursory perusal of his collection, saying blandly but with all the intensity of a cat about to pounce, "you would be better served trying to teach a sheep to read rather than trying to inculcate wisdom or rational thought in these noisome swine; they will only tolerate you for a moment and then turn around and rend you! Especially in such a foul trade as you seem intent on promoting."

"And yours is not, madam?" said he with his eyebrows nearly lost in his hairline.

"I serve the needs of my clients," said she with a disdainful sniff, "and nothing more."

"As do I, madam," said he gruffly, adding, "but I had hoped your taste would not parallel that of the teeming masses, or worse, Society."

"I was speaking of their opinion of your wares, not mine," corrected she with a perturbed hiss, "you walk a dangerous path sir, but it seems you are not unaware of the precariousness of your position."

"I am well aware of the perils, milady," said he, "from both Society and Things."

"Why would the Woodfolk bother with such a trifling institution," chortled she at the very thought, "if you wish to commence upon an exercise in futility, that is nothing to us, indeed we would quite welcome a little sense to be imbued into the mortal race!"

"But you are here," said he.

"Only out of curiosity as to what sort of person would be so audacious in so backwards a Society," countered she.

"Neither was it of the Woodfolk of which I spoke, madam," continued he, "things and Things, you see."

"Ah," hissed she in evil delight, "I see there is more behind this little enterprise than I had anticipated, but if it amuses you, by all means continue, it makes no difference to me, save perhaps to laugh when true Things fall upon you."

He smiled grimly, "let us hope it is the Things that find themselves surprised upon that inevitable day." She raised her own eyebrows in thoughtful surprise but said no more before ambling off, hissing scornfully at the Gentlemen who patiently waited their turn to speak with the proprietor, for she and they had been around long enough to know one another, at least by reputation, if not sight, for what was physical appearance to any of them?

"A charming lady, that," chuckled the First.

"I do not see why there would be any antipathy on her part?" frowned the Second.

"She merely wanted to laugh at my foolishness and peril in running such an establishment," said mine host merrily, "not from Society or the Woodfolk mind you, but from the much worse Things of which I must certainly be unaware."

"No wonder she looked rather surprised," grinned the First, "a rare thing for a creature of her age and experience." His eyes narrowed as he asked, "and just how did you come to find yourself in this position and even aware of 'worser' Things?"

"The most memorable of all Great Aunts," said the Innkeeper with a wry grin, unwittingly mimicked by both the unnamed Gentlemen and assuring him of their unusual allegiance and them of his own.

But before anyone could wax eloquent upon aunts, uncles, or cousins thrice removed, the promising discourse was interrupted as one of those worser Things entered the scene and promptly removed the instigator thereof. "Be good chaps and mind the store whilst I'm gone?" said the unfortunate innkeeper as the grotesque Thing dragged him bodily away.

The horrid Thing retorted in cruel mirth, "any fool enough to do that will suffer your own dreadful fate, wretch until there remain none so foolish! But pray continue gentlemen, for I quite enjoy my job and will gladly make examples of the lot of you."

But as there were no further interruptions, the fiend soon vanished with its seemingly hapless victim, leaving Gentlemen the First and Second to ward the little facility. "I never thought to become a Librarian," mused the First.

"Neither had I considered it a requisite part of our myriad duties," agreed the Second, "but one never can tell in this odd profession."

"Then we should have assumed it must eventually happen from the first," replied his companion jovially, "it was quite an oversight on our parts to be sure!"

"It must never happen again," nodded the other succinctly, "perhaps we should list the remaining professions that we henceforth not be caught unawares."

"And do not forget all the hobbies, major and minor, along with areas of study and specialty amongst the more academic pursuits," added the First.

"We should have a Book specifically for that purpose," sighed the Second, "like the Natural Histories, but covering the pursuits, interests, and activities of Men instead."

"A Natural History of Man?" proposed the First.

"A Third Volume is inevitable," said the Second grimly, "it is the very nature of our current reality! We could not have a two-volume set, it is quite unnatural, particularly concerning Natural Histories."

"Verily," quoth the First, "it might even cause our current reality to unravel."

"I had always thought it would be fire and explosions at the End," said the Second in feigned disappointment, "this seems somewhat less exciting, if quite an interesting theory in its own right."

"So who is to write this requisite Third Volume?" asked the First, "I certainly am not of a literary or academic turn."

"And yet you are a Librarian, strange the paths of fate!" grinned the Second, added he in concern, "Does this mean we need a Third Gentleman as well?"

"Books of Knowledge or fiction of extensive length must come in triplicate certainly," pondered the First, "but while convenient, I do not think it mandatory when speaking of people."

"If there was a Third," countered the Second, "he could write Book III."

"It would never do," countered the First, "then he must be a Professor rather than a Gentleman; ne'er the twain shall meet, sir! Indeed, I am quite appalled at your ignorance!"

"But it was you who were worried about having to write said Volume," said the Second with a shake of his head.

"Precisely," said the First, "then I must cease to be a Gentleman henceforth and where would that leave you? You would make a very poor First, and having a Second without a First is just ridiculous."

"As is this conversation," sighed the Second, his head in his hands, as if it ached slightly.

"At least we have settled the matter," grinned the First, "one cannot be a scholar and a gentleman, therefore neither of us will be writing the Third Volume."

"But what of the Third Gentleman?" queried the Second.

"Neither will he be the author of that dread volume," said the First.

"At least that narrows the field by one," sighed the Second.

"Precisely," agreed the First, "now on to our various duties as Gentlemen and Librarians."

"But never a scholar?" added the Second.

"Now you are getting it," nodded the First happily.

"Only a headache," grimaced the Second to himself, not daring to prolong the conversation should the First unhappily overhear him.

"What is this place?" asked Miss Iris as they exited the coach and the lengthening shadows of evening happily engulfed them.

Lord Mulligan glanced about with a strange mixture of wistfulness, revulsion, and boyish joy fighting for possession of his countenance, said he, "my old school."

"And what are we to do here?" queried she in some surprise, never having seen a right and proper educational institution for young men of rank and wealth, "Are you in need of a remedial education?"

"Probably," grinned he, "but I would be better served by our little library than by what passes for a proper education in such a place."

"Had you no teacher, book, or class in this place that did not give you a little wisdom or useful knowledge?"

He smiled wistfully and led the way inside, "perhaps I did at that, come milady and see for yourself!"

She had always wanted to go to school, though it was not an approved activity for girls in those days and a privilege reserved solely for the sons of the most wealthy and important families, but perhaps this was her big chance. Queried she as they navigated the labyrinthine corridors, "whomever we are going to see, would he not have heard of your untimely demise?"

"Since that hasn't happened yet," grinned he, "I see no problem in paying him an unannounced visit."

Sighed she in rueful amusement, "and here I thought I was the experienced one, how silly of me to even ask such an obvious question!"

"Nothing is obvious in this profession, my dear," grinned he, "I believe that's the only rule one must learn to succeed therein."

"No wonder the Standards would not approve of our activities!" laughed she, "Simplicity is never its own reward, at least wherein the Standards, Fashion, and Society are involved!"

"I do not see what is so amusing," countered a stuffy and slightly annoyed voice, quashing their unauthorized frivolity, something any longtime resident of such an institution instinctively knew must be done with utmost haste lest learning and seemly behavior be thereby imperiled.

"I beg your pardon, Professor," said milord, "I did not know you were close enough to be perturbed by our rather inane conversation."

"At least I taught you something," said the peevish Professor, only slightly mollified as he adjusted his spectacles to get a better look at the reprobates who had thus disturbed him. Continued he, "at least I assume you were a former pupil, if not then you must be parents of a prospective student?"

"You do not remember me?" asked Mulligan, already knowing the answer, the man had a head for nothing but knowledge and learning, there was absolutely no room for the trifling niceties of society like remembering names or faces or interacting with one's fellow men, unless they had useful information to impart.

"Even if I did," countered his Learnedness, "you all change and grow so much over the years how is one to remember what was and extrapolate what must be?"

"Quite," agreed Mulligan, viciously squashing a grin lest he further irk the already perturbed academic, continuing in as serious a vein as he could muster, he said, "it has been some ten or fifteen years since I was in your tutelage sir, but a matter has come to my attention and I thought immediately of you; your assistance would be invaluable, sir, at least if you could spare me a few moments of your undoubtedly precious time."

"For a former student," mused he slowly, taking in his visitors' very fine garments, marking them as the elite of the elite, "I am sure I could spare a moment or two, milord?"

"Lord Mulligan, sir," said he as sagaciously as he could manage when he truly wished to laugh aloud instead, "I am looking for a man to write a book."

"There are many books in the world," said the professor in sudden disdain, "many of them superfluous."

"I am not looking for that sort of book," persisted Mulligan, "I want to find the Book, outlining all the interests, hobbies, languages, cultures, histories, philosophies, etc. peculiar to mankind."

"A Natural History of Man?!" said the astonished academic, "how delightful!" But his mien suddenly soured, "it would be impossible, imagine how extensive it must be and ever in need of updating!"

"It would certainly be a project of epic proportions and never, truly finished," agreed Mulligan, "but I believe it could at least be begun by a determined and dedicated individual."

"Well," said the teacher, too Standard and Academic to dance in exhilaration, "as a matter of fact I have been working on just such a thesis in my spare time, it is nothing half so extensive you understand, a bare outline in fact, but I believe it has great promise..." He trailed off and then after a very awkward minute of silence he added, "and there is certainly room for material provided by experts in a number of topics, you must understand I cannot research Everything!"

"Certainly," agreed Mulligan, "but you have the beginnings at least?"

"Quite," said the academian eagerly, "would you like to peruse the manuscript, perhaps?"

"That is the reason I am come," said Mulligan, motioning for his Professorness to lead the way, which he eagerly did.

Iris whispered to Mulligan as they vanished even deeper into the musty gloom of the winding corridors, "just how many Books will we be required to carry if there will undoubtedly be a Natural History for every sentient race?"

Mulligan shook his head, "nay milady, I do not doubt there will be a Book concerning each unique race, but I doubt we need to carry each and every one about in our pockets, rather they will be available for consultation whenever the need arises."

"That is good to hear," grinned she, "for my 'Natural History of Everything' is already posing a nuisance, sulking as it does from disuse, what of a "Natural History of the Unnamed People Fond of Genealogy and Gardening, in that order,' which would rarely be referenced as few are those brave or foolish enough to have dealings with them?"

"That particular volume," grinned Mulligan, "is reserved solely for the sort of folk that make up the Quilting Circle or the Perpetual Dance, save they are rather fond of genealogy or obscure knowledge for its own sake rather than sewing or dancing."

"A very reasonable solution," agreed Milady Iris, who was suddenly very glad she was not that sort of person. Adding thoughtfully, "and I suppose there will be a branch of your peculiar lending library in every City of men and in each unique settlement of Things?"

"It would not surprise me in the least," said he in wonder, "imagine what it would do for the world if people actually took such a concept seriously?!"

"I wonder if that is even possible," repined she, "for few are they that are taking even the original seriously, treating it more as a curiosity or a bit of eccentricity to be treasured but not utilized."

"So do most folk treat their minds," agreed his lordship grimly.

"Indeed!" said she at this sudden, startling realization, "I wonder how we can waken them from their stupor? These libraries are a good start, but I fear the motivation must be theirs."

"And so but few will respond," said he sadly, "such is the curse and blessing of a sapient mind."

"At least we will always find ample work," sighed she, staggered in realizing just how much needed to be done in the wide world, and she was only aware of the barest sliver of it, how much more lurked beyond her meager comprehension. Smiling ruefully she added, "but then that is not our worry nor prerogative, rather let us leave it to the Mind that brought it forth and can manage the affair quite well without our pathetic attempts at meddling therein!"

Mulligan nodded happily, "truly milady, we've made a proper philosopher out of you!"

Replied the snarky voice of their host, "come sir, be serious! Women, I am sure, have their uses, but philosophy is as far beyond their comprehension as flying is to fish! I'm not sure why you've brought this troublesome creature with you, but she can be of no use or help to us in this little endeavor. You would have been better served to leave her in the carriage or send her off to the nearest shop to find a new bonnet or something."

Iris miraculously controlled her ire at the man's ignorance and prejudice, and merely smiled blandly at him, as if she were as ignorant and dull-witted as he assumed all of the female persuasion to be, thus seeming to confirm his sentiments, at least in his own mind, and thereafter roundly ignored her, as if she were a book that had long since been proven inaccurate and full of errors and thus beneath his notice, save as an object of disgust and contempt. And this was the man to write a Natural History of Man?

Mulligan smiled sadly, not for her sake but for the benighted academic and his dearth of social experience, at least of a positive nature, but then his grin became ironic as he considered just how few people ever experienced just that, at least in their current Society. Were they not former members of a so-called Society and Civilization that prided itself in building walls, especially between one another and even more so between a man's own heart and mind, pretending to be one thing to himself and all his neighbors while in very truth he was something else entirely? It could be nothing but mass paranoia maintaining a guise of civilization and society, when in very truth everyone was alone, insignificant, and meaningless. His own plight was the plight of man in general and each heart in particular and nothing peculiar to himself alone, but happily he had escaped that lethal snare, but what of the others yet trapped therein? Their fate must be in greater Hands than his, instead he must attend to the business immediately set before him: reading the dreaded Manuscript on Man.

"You like it, don't you?" queried the anxious little academic after Lord Mulligan had had a chance to read a whole sentence.

"It is precisely what is required," said his lordship dolefully, for it was not happy reading, not in the least, but it was very precise and truthful, which was of far more import.

"Excellent," quoth the Learned One, "one always fears never having something to contribute to posterity; I am quite happy to have achieved such a legacy."

Iris could not help but ask, "but can you be content with such a paltry memorial? Do you not wish to live on personally, rather than a few meager words you scrawled in a book?"

He looked at her in astonishment, as if he had never realized women could talk, much as he might look at a horse that had just commented on the weather, said he grimly, "foolish girl! Why would I long for something I can never have? One must be content with what he can achieve, that is the whole purpose of life."

Mulligan shook his head slightly to forestall the lady, as Iris looked ready to plunge them all into a pointless debate on metaphysics and the nature of the soul, philosophies which it was apparent their host had absolutely decided against and an exercise that would be of help to no one. Said she as they retreated to their equipage, the Academic assuring them he would continue working on his manifesto with all the gusto and professionalism in his possession, "what a sad existence and poor prognosis for eternal joy!"

"But a fate of his own choosing," said Mulligan sadly.

She smiled wryly, "and likely one day he will be a rapt student of a certain book containing all there is to know about a little known, save to themselves, people and their genealogy and gardening lore."

"I don't think all the books in the world and beyond it would be enough to contain such bounteous information," retorted his lordship.

"Perhaps not, but it would be a project your teacher would love to tackle next," said Iris with a grim smile, "if he ever finishes with this one." A sudden thought occurred to her and she took out the long neglected 'Natural History,' and turned to the back, a delighted smile suddenly lit up her whole countenance as she handed the book to her companion, who was equally surprised and quite satisfied.

"That will do very well indeed," agreed he, "an appendix rather than a separate book; it is quite fitting. Though I believe the author would be scandalized, if he ever had the chance to study his finished work." He hastily amended at the lady's scandalized look, "I meant the final presentation of his contribution to the project, for the work in itself will never be finished, at least while mankind endures within the temporal sphere."

"Just be glad it wasn't Aunt Mildred who caught you in such an awkward position," grinned Iris genially.

"You are almost as bad, milady," said Mulligan with a contrite bow.

"I was afraid of that," sighed she, "perhaps I am even a maiden aunt and never quite knew it. Are marriages between immortal and mortal folk even binding? I mayn't have been married at all!"

"You'll have to find an expert on legal unions betwixt the races and upon their varied laws, my dear," grinned he most irksomely. "Or perhaps question an expert in Aunts," added he with a grim shake of his head, "though only if you are desperate."

"A mere philosophical exercise, I assure you," said she with a grimace of distaste at his proposals, especially the latter.

"We have not only added invaluable information to our library, but so too have we given hope to a book that had long since despaired of ever again being useful," said Mulligan with a curt nod, "not a bad day's work."

"It will be a nice change not to have soggy pockets," agreed Miss Iris as she swept past him, her feline smile only deepening at his flummoxed look but she made no further reply and he was forced to hasten after her or be left behind for a remedial education of interminable duration.

The Great Enemy of Bureaucracy

"Now foolish one," hissed the Thing, finally setting the former innkeeper down in some dank and gloomy basement, "what think you now of your little enterprise? You have but one chance to save your benighted soul and spare your wretched life?" At the man's complete disinterest, the Thing hissed, "why do you not cower before me; your own doom is at hand!" He merely smiled insolently at the creature, which sent it into further fits of disbelief and ire. "For all of your purported knowledge you are an utter fool!" spat the Thing at last, when its ravings had produced no effect. With a shrug it made to set upon the irksome wretch, but he was thwarted in this as well.

"Wait," said a voice, neither panicked nor fearful, but seemingly rather bored and preoccupied, one wishing to be elsewhither doing something else entirely.

"What is it now?" spat the Thing, "Am I to have no fun at all on this particular assignment? This wretch denies me the joy of his terror and despair and you interrupt a rather messy denouement! I am most displeased!"

"That is none of my affair or concern," said the colorless voice, drab as an autumn twilight, "I am conducting an audit and need both of you to complete a rather lengthy questionnaire, in triplicate mind you, before you may proceed with your usual duties."

"Seriously?!" said the astonished Thing, fearing that greatest invention of evil, bureaucracy, was finally infiltrating the very power structure that had given it birth.

"I'm afraid so," said the beige entity, "I do hope you have the requisite pen and ink?"

At this, the Innkeeper and his kidnapper could not help but exchange a startled look of amusement at the minion's inanity, as said kidnapper replied briskly, "our surroundings are hardly conducive to any sort of academic work, no matter how vital!"

"Then let us be off," hissed the annoyed minion, the first emotion he had yet or would ever show, "I am an important Thing and have things to do!" With a mutual shrug, the primary Thing, the Innkeeper, and the Auditor all vanished back to the Library they had just vacated.

At the sudden appearance of two Things, one obviously some sort of bureaucratic minion, in their midst, the Gentlemen reached for their missing swords, but the innkeeper turned librarian's wry smile set them immediately at ease, for something very strange, and probably rather amusing was happening and they would not miss it for the world. Spat the Drab One, "you two will do well as Proctors; prepare for the Examination." The pair exchanged one of those mystified glances this occupation had made them so good at and immediately set to work. Soon enough, the Primary Thing and the erstwhile Innkeeper were busy filling out, in triplicate, an extensive survey of their activities since the dawn of time.

Some years later, the Tedious Thing collected their papers and hissed, "you may proceed with your interrupted activities, but remember, we are always watching!"

As it vanished, Gentleman the First asked of the innkeeper/librarian, "what was all that about?"

"Some sort of auditor or something," said the man with a frown.

The Thing actually joined their conversation, his usual malice momentarily forgotten under his own astonishment, "I did not think there was any form of wickedness or cruelty my Dread Master had not yet discovered, employed, or exploited, but it seems he has taken his evil to an even greater depth by organizing a bureaucracy to manage his nefarious affairs."

"I am quite in agreement with you," said Gentleman II, "this is a most troubling revelation, especially for you and yours." The innkeeper seemed rather perplexed as the Second continued, "the greatest enemy of order, justice, efficiency, freedom, and common sense is Bureaucracy, but the greatest enemy of any bureaucracy is itself."

"Ah!" said the keeper of books and inns, "Now I understand. There will probably be little difference noticed on our side of things, save more disorder perhaps, but on theirs things have grown grim indeed."

The heart had quite gone out of the Thing, as he glanced about despondently, "what am I to do? I am nothing now but a nameless minion of evil, a mere cog in a vast and terrible machine!"

"Have you not been just that from the day you made your terrible vows?" queried the First.

"Yes," hissed the wretched Thing, "but now it is Official! At least previously I could pretend to be important, not think about it, work out my own purpose and meaning and do things in my own way, but now everything is going to be Official, and must be carried out in an Official capacity. Where once there was room, though miniscule, for a little uniqueness or creativity, now we're all Officially the same, as alike as stamps of the same design. I quit!" And with that, he simply vanished in a puff of black smoke, away from the troubles of his former position but into a deeper darkness that had no remedy or end, of which those who yet lingered in the mortal sphere or beyond it, even in its darkest shadows, could have no comprehension.

"Was that an adventure?" queried the rather disappointed Keeper of Inn and Books.

"No," said the First grimly, "that was a survey, a governmental action, an audit, a test, it was in nowise an adventure; the two are incompatible, like oil and water. You'll just have to wait until next time."

"What a pity," sighed he, "what sort of adventure can you have in a Library?"

"Depends on the Library," said the Second, "in this particular venue, I would say you'll be having plenty, but in one that is socially acceptable, none at all."

"Quite!" said their much cheered host, "Thank you for watching the place whilst I was gone."

"Just do us a favor," said the First grimly.

"Never, ever ask you to proctor again?" grinned the Bookkeeper.

"Precisely," said the Gentlemen in unison.

There they all were, in attendance at Aunt Mildred's High Tea, no matter what their business had been but a moment before. This was a meeting none was allowed to miss. She scanned the surprised faces, at least of the neophytes, the Gentlemen were well used to this sort of thing and looked as if they always had Tea at that particular hour of the day. She gave them a moment to let the surprise wear off and then said, "I'm glad you could all make it on such short notice, and I know you will forgive my importuning you in any way, for this is quite important. Many of you have previously met but I thought it best if everyone was properly introduced and knew a little of what is transpiring in this particular corner of the world at this particular time."

Iris eyed Gentleman the First with a quizzically raised brow, "did she just say she was going to be frank with us?"

"No," grinned the First, "she is ever and only a very prim and proper Mildred, never something so vulgar as Frank, nor is she ever straightforward or forthcoming or informative, no matter what she says on the matter. So you see, in either case, she is in nowise going to be frank or Frank, however the case may be."

"I thought as much," sighed Miss Iris, knowing that in this business hope ever sprung eternal, save in wrenching information out of their Dread Captain.

Continued Mildred, after this second shock of the day had worn off, "as most of you are aware, we've been recruiting heavily in this particular section of the world at this particular moment, and contrary to rampant rumor, it is not because I require a requisite number before serving Tea. Rather something either momentous and or terrible is in the planning, it may be years in coming, but our Enemy and his minions are gearing up for something big, so we are likewise preparing that the world, or at least this particular corner of it, not be laid waste when he finally makes his move. We do not yet know the particulars, but there are enough strange goings on, furtive spying, and overt manipulation that we are sure something is brewing," adding as an afterthought, to forestall any horrid attempts at a pun, "and it isn't Tea."

Asked the Second Gentleman, when their Dread Commander had finished, "can it be worse than the current state of things, milady?"

"It may perhaps be only a different form of worse," agreed my lady the General, "things are certainly in a sorry state, but evil and chaos can wear many guises and come in numerous forms. That is why we must be vigilant and do what we can to mitigate this disaster, whatever it may be."

"The Library?" queried Mine Host.

"One measure we will use to combat ignorance," agreed Mildred, "but we cannot force people to read, let alone to read the right books or to comprehend and take to heart that which they imbibe. It is a long shot, but at least the information is there if they have need of or interest in it."

"Horses are smarter," sighed the Innkeeper turned Librarian, "they at least have the sense to drink when water is placed before them."

"You are conflating sense with intelligence, my friend," countered the Foremost of Gentlemen with a wry grin. "Have you not noticed that those who pride themselves most on their intelligence are often the least sensible of men?"

"Aye," agreed the Keeper of Books and Inns, "and often the least happy."

""Quite," agreed a certain Uncle of the Lou-ish persuasion.

"I don't like it," groused Squiff.

"The way of the world?" queried his uncle.

Iris grinned impishly ere translating, "that and having to attend such formal affairs as part of his requisite duties."

The Imp's brows rose at this, "formal affair, this?"

The rest of the party soon caught his incredulity and even the Grim Aunt could not keep from laughing quite heartily at the lad's misperception of the entire affair. Chuckled she, "it may look like a fancy Tea Party lad, but appearances mean nothing in this business, have you not yet learned that?"

The poor boy blushed crimson and said in dismay, "consider it well learned, milady!"

The General nodded curtly, then smiled genially, and said, "then feel free to mingle and actually enjoy the company of your companions, a thing quite anathema in usual circumstances, but that is no longer your lot, lad." He smiled gratefully at her and did just that. He might actually learn to like social settings if they could all be so comfortable, encouraging, and enjoyable, which they never were in the mortal world, it must be one of those as yet undiscovered laws of physics, like gravity.

My Lord Mulligan even found himself enjoying Mildred's little soiree, grinned he at the equally delighted Squiff, "too bad we can't introduce such genial social affairs into proper society as easily as we can import a library of forbidden books."

"Books are quite safe," said Mildred, in the guise of a civilian aunt and therefore not the least bit dreadful, at least no more so than aunts usually are, "at least if no one reads them. Indeed, they are quite useful in intimidating others with your supposed knowledge, for though they may only collect dust in your impressive library and you need never even glimpse through one of them, others will assume you to be quite familiar with the contents of each and every one. A person on the other hand, is quite another matter entirely."

At Squiff's frown of incomprehension, Mulligan made so bold as to interpret for the confounding aunt, who was quite in character at the moment, as no aunt worth her salt was ever frank, or even Frank, "it is much more difficult to dispose of a person and their influence than to stash a book away. There are friends and acquaintances and family and servants and gossips and associates and any number of people aware of the existence or disappearance of a given person. A book must be read to have influence, a person influences others by every act, word, or omission."

Squiff's eyes did a perfect imitation of that sad, worried look common to certain breeds of hound as he said dolorously, "we're going out into Society en masse, aren't we."

Mildred's smile was anything but comforting, "it seems we've made a thoughtful man out of you after all."

Mulligan grinned at Squiff's discomfiture, "easy lad, I believe you will come to enjoy it ere long. I'd all but sworn off social functions but cannot wait to see what happens next."

"I lack my sister's enjoyment of the ridiculous," sighed Squiff, "books are such sensible company, I've never developed a taste for it."

"It's all part of growing up," grinned Iris mercilessly though far from mirthlessly, "it is high time you put all that learning to good use, and not just for your own benefit."

"You do have an excellent point," said the boy thoughtfully, "this isn't a business wherein we are meant to please ourselves, but rather instead of merely reading about saving the world, I can actually go out and do just that."

"And therein you'll find more joy, fulfillment, satisfaction, and purpose than you ever would merely reading about it," agreed Uncle Lou.

"I'd be better served joining those most studious men in that strange House," said Sqiff with a shudder, "if my learning was merely for my own benefit." He eyed his more gentlemanly companions and queried, "what of my lack of a formal education?"

"All the better," grinned Mulligan, "you've less things to unlearn."

"This conversation has been an education in itself," grinned Squiff eagerly.

"I believe he is ready to make his social debut," smiled Iris in approbation.

"Excellent," agreed Mildred, "for that is exactly what all of you will be doing."

"I can't believe I'm hosting a debutante's ball," said Mulligan in surprise, only a very few moments later.

Milady Iris grinned as only her impish friend could, adding, "for a male debutante."

"What?!" said he, all astonishment.

She smiled all the more, "it isn't as if I need one nor would it benefit a certain Aunt, perhaps an even more scandalous idea than a male debutante or a lending library combined."

He could not help but catch her humor, "it seems we could do far worse by societal thinking, excellent my dear. Just who is this party for then, your brother?"

"Exactly," agreed the Lady, "the Gentlemen are already out and my Uncle is as eccentric as one could hope a country squire to be thus it will not avail him. Hosting such a function for an Imp or an Innkeeper would be almost as bad as having one for an Aunt."

"And of course he'll have all sorts of outlandish friends and family visiting for the occasion," mused his Lordship, "and it will be the perfect chance to introduce them to All and Sundry."

"Precisely," nodded Iris happily, "you could have gone far in Society had you not willingly cloistered yourself away."

"And who would want to do such a horrendous thing to oneself?" countered he.

"Quite," agreed she, "it is only silly girls who think such a smart match could equal happiness. But I can assure you I was well and truly wrong."

"So who are we going to marry your brother off to?" queried he, "We aren't exactly legal matrimonial prospects in this line of work."

"The thrill is all in the chase, sir," lectured she, "did you never hunt?"

"No," said he in disgust, "I was never sure who was the pursued: me or the fox."

"I certainly see your point," laughed she.

"And I yours," agreed he thoughtfully, "as long as they have something to chase, the girls and their assorted relatives will be quite content. Once he's happily settled, no one will pay him the least heed unless something Sensational happens."

"You might as well be dead as married," agreed Lady Iris, "at least as far as the fashionable single set is concerned."

"How does your brother feel upon the matter?" asked he.

"He'll likely need Moral Support," grinned she in anticipation, at which feral look Mulligan truly pitied the poor boy. And truly the boy did need pity and Moral Support both, for not a moment later, the two Gentlemen entered the extravagant house quite literally carrying the boy.

"Come lad," said Mulligan with a sad smile, valiantly hiding his own amusement, "it cannot be all that bad?"

"Then why aren't you the one celebrating his coming out?" asked the lad desperately.

"Because I am hosting it," corrected Mulligan.

Squiff glanced from his sister to the Gentlemen to the self-proclaimed host and sighed, relaxing as he did so, "very well, if it must be so it must, and if we are all in this together, it cannot be so awful as I imagine it to be."

"You are merely a diversion, dear, a distraction, whilst the rest of us worm our way into Society's good graces," said Iris affably, "you are an excuse for complete strangers to hob nob with the greatest of Society's snobs."

Squiff brightened significantly, glancing hopefully at the Gentlemen as he said, "this might actually be fun then?"

"Of a certainty," agreed the Second, "you need to quit thinking like a mortal man, lad! You are no more vying for a place in Society and doomed to settle down with the richest bit of inane fluff you can find, rather, consider it what it truly is: an adventure."

"But instead of wrestling tigers or dragons, you get to dance badly with a variety of social belles and step on their toes as often as you like," seconded the First.

"I am liking this more and more," assured Squiff most eagerly, especially the part about dancing badly, for he wasn't an accomplished dancer, not in the least. "So while I do all the diverting, the rest of you get to do all the subterfuging?"

"Quite," said Gentleman the First.

"I had no idea society functions could be this much fun!" said the boy eagerly.

"They aren't," said Mulligan, "it is only our uncanny occupation that can bring about such a miracle."

"Even better," said Squiff, "as I don't see myself mixing much with Proper Society, save as required by our duties."

"He is a bright one," smiled Mulligan, eyeing the Lady with a quizzical, teasing gaze.

"We already have discussed the foolishness of young ladies," assured Iris, "and now that age is of no further concern to us, let us leave all humorous comments pertaining to age and wisdom out of the conversation, shall we?"

"You sound precisely like a certain Aunt," said the First in concern.

"Someone needs to keep you lot in line," agreed Iris, "but Aunts never host such lavish parties, a nice little Tea perhaps, or maybe even a card party, but certainly not the Debutante's Ball of the Season."

"And all the rest will be there too?" asked Squiff hopefully.

"I can't vouch for Mildred, but everyone else, right down to the last Imp, will be there with bells on," said Iris, at Squiff's anxious expression she assured him, "it was just an expression, dear. Why are you so jumpy about this whole ordeal?"

"I don't know much about girls," admitted he reluctantly. At her arch look he amended, "sisters are different."

"Don't worry," chuckled she, "they'll assume you to be rich and that covers a plethora of social ills; you can be as eccentric as you like and none will raise an eyebrow, as long as you have the means to cover your faux pas with lavish parties and outlandish fashion."

"I'm beginning to see how you survived in Society, Iris," grinned he, "there is something ridiculous to marvel at in every sentence spoken!"

"It is an acquired taste," agreed she, "but necessary if one is not to either join in their insipidity or go insane."

"Or wall oneself away from all humanity," added Mulligan.

"I shall laugh indeed," said Squiff happily, "perhaps at myself most of all."

Mulligan eyed the lady skeptically, "has he seen his gaudy costume already?"

"No," grinned Iris, "he is merely wise enough to know what awaits him, and us all." They all laughed at this, knowing they might well cry later, at least if anyone was unwise enough to leave a mirror around that they might accidentally catch sight of themselves therein.

First a Library, now this! It was becoming quite outrageous! What was happening to Good and Proper Society? What had come of the Standards? The Event of the Season was a debutante's ball, but not a party for some wealthy and renowned young female in search of a splendid match, no!, it was a gala hosted by a nameless nonentity for an equally nameless and likely penniless young man! But it seemed thwarting the Standards, at least superficially, was the new trend, thus did they all go, each and every person who was anyone in the fashionable world was there, even the Innkeeping Librarian!

And what a party it was, for almost everyone went home having enjoyed themselves immensely, a phenomenon which many of them had never experienced before, which suddenly made them question their sanity, probably the next Great Fad once the current affair blew over. They had talked and danced and ate and laughed until dawn, for if one was flouting the Standards, as was only fashionable, one had best do it in grand style. And there were enough others doing just that that it seemed that truly, everyone was doing it and one would stand out if one weren't. It was quite a controversy and talked about in scandalized tones in every circle of society and government, some even whispered there should be a New Standard, or at least an Amendment to the old ones. But it was yet to be seen whether there would actually be Change, or if it was simply another passing fad that would sputter out in a week or three.

Squiff was not sure whether to be relieved or insulted, for he had escaped the infamous night with nary an engagement or even a proposal, for the young ladies, though curious as to his prospects, had found enough amusement elsewhither that he was far from the only pursuit of the evening. Said he to his sister later that day as they strolled through the spacious gardens arm in arm, "I'm not sure if your party was a success or not?"

"It was a grand success," grinned Iris triumphantly, "as long as you remember the whole point of the evening was not to launch your societal career but rather to make all and sundry question their own."

"Ah!" exclaimed he, "then it was quite successful." He winked at her playfully, "but if you were a true society matron you'd be in tears in having failed of your object: to get me decently married off."

"I am glad neither of us met societal expectations last evening," grinned she, "I've quite had enough of it and can only hope that Society too will soon grow sick of itself!"

"I'm surprised it hasn't already put itself into a coma with its own company," agreed he.

"Perhaps we can yet save it from such an ignomious end," said Iris hopefully, "but only if it will allow itself to be saved, perhaps it would rather march on heedlessly into oblivion and utter night."

Said Squiff quietly, "it does make things rather more difficult when someone else must make the choice to go or stay, to say yes or no, to change or remain the same. No matter how hard we work or how much we succeed, they can still say no. It could all be for naught!"

"Perhaps to our perception," replied Iris sadly, but with a remorseless hope undergirding it, a hope not born of this world nor thwarted thereby, "when He is involved, it is never hopeless or vain."

"I can't wait to see what happens next!" said the boy in growing excitement.

"Neither can I," said his sister most heartily.

### Other Books by this Author:

### The Serpent and the Unicorn: Book I and II

### The Serpent and the Unicorn: Book III

### The Serpent and the Unicorn: Book IV and V

### Once a Thief

### A Song of Lesser Days

### Thus It Began

### Legends of the Brethren: The Complete Series

### In Shadow

### The Greylands

###  On Princesses

###  On Heroes

###  Over the Hills and Far Away

### Want to Know More?:

### Official Website

### Author's Blog

Excerpt from 'The Last Shadow **:'**

"Enough!" squawked the infernal raven to the chill night air.

"Have you come to your senses at last?" came the amused query, but the voice left no doubt that the question was merely rhetorical.

"No!" hissed the stygian fowl, "but I have had enough of your precious Shadow. Let us come to an understanding."

"I'm listening," said the voice.

"Very well," grated the bird, "what must I do that you disband the noisome rabble?"

"The better question is," said the voice, "what will you do to make their continued presence unnecessary?"

"That is not what I asked!" hissed the raven.

"It is what I offer," retorted the voice, firm as the cornerstones of the earth.

"So be it," snarled the avian villain, "I will give up my wraiths if you dissolve the Shadow."

"What of the Brotherhood?" mused the voice.

"You have your filthy Brethren to oppose them," groused the bird.

"But they know not the face of their foe," continued the voice, patient and insistent as the tides.

"The Time of Revelation is at hand!" triumphed the fiend.

"Ah, yes," chuckled the voice, as if a young child had announced with especial vim some foray, grand in his own mind, but rather trivial and vain in the grand scheme of things.

"Laugh now," scowled the offended raven, "for it will not last long. For the time of my final triumph is coming, and soon!"

"Very well," continued the amused voice, "if you will recruit no more Wraiths, neither will I create more Shadows in this last age of the world."

"Excellent," said the bird, fluffing his feathers in excitement, not realizing that the Master of all Time and Space was not constrained by those annoying temporal realities that so constrained himself and all mortal men, "most excellent," and then he vanished, leaving the voice to say in great eagerness, though none but the stars heard Him, "and then it will be time for greater things," and after, nothing was heard but the sighing of the wind in the lonely pines.

The Captain of the Shadow blinked, and then blinked again, but it was no dream, he walked alone in utter darkness, in a formless void without sky or walls, with neither sight nor sound nor smell. Suddenly there came a light and he hastened towards it, eager to escape the Nothingness all about him, but it was only a little candle, burning low and already flickering on the verge of going out, but he picked it up and tried to search the inky depths about him, but to no avail. Suddenly a terrible wind gusted out of the Void, but the candle didn't go out, though it sputtered dangerously. As the tempest's fury at last was spent, he raised his meager light and again sought meaning or form in the gloom about him, but there was naught to be seen, until a shadowy being loomed out of the blackness and blew out that struggling flame. He wanted to panic in terror or lash out in fury at this outrageous seeming act, but an overwhelming Peace washed over him, driving him quaking, to his knees, for he knew this Presence, and once He knew Himself known, all exploded in awful, wonderful Light.

He sat up in bed, shaking and covered in a cold sweat, something that had not happened since his joining the Shadow countless years before. Immediately his hand began to glow and he summoned each and every Shadow under his command to break the dreadful news.

"Disbanded!" squawked Jace in dismay, millennia having failed to teach the boy much of either discretion or restraint.

Baye smiled slightly, as much as he could muster with such astounding news so fresh, but whatever else might change in the world, Jace never would. Even the Captain attempted a weak grin at the impetuous outburst, for he was as startled and dismayed as any of his minions, but continuing as if the interruption had never happened, he said, "not exactly disbanded, but we won't be recruiting anyone else into the Shadow. You are each free to serve as long as you please, but once you retire, you won't be replaced. The world is changing; greater things are at hand. Our traditional foes will either dwindle as we ourselves must or will be given to others to deal with."

"Greater things?" queried Baye, unable to hide the eagerness in his voice and the peculiar light in his eyes.

"The very end of the world," confirmed the Captain, "something some of you have waited countless years to see. It may still be a few centuries, perhaps a millennium or more, but it is coming, and soon, at least to our reckoning, and after..." He sighed longingly after that promised world none of them could even begin to imagine. He sobered suddenly and continued far more grimly, "but first night must come ere the rising of that glorious Dawn that will never see corruption. Our Enemy has agreed to recruit no more Wraiths if our Master likewise will Call no one else into the Shadow. The Brotherhood will soon have their long talked of 'Time of Revelation,' that the Brethren as a whole might now confront and oppose them openly, rather than by seeming happenstance."

"But we cannot trust the Fiend to hold to his word," protested Jace, "what happens when we have all Gone and he meddles again in things forbidden? Will the mortal world be left an easy prey to his machinations?"

The Captain shook his head in seeming exasperation, but patiently explained to the determined Shadow, "do you think the Master would suddenly abandon the world for which He died to the Fiend's predations? He will raise up a shield or a sword unlooked for when needed, even though the Shadow be only a foggy legend." Said he, almost too quiet to hear, "He Himself will snuff the candle of this world before bringing forth things too wondrous to imagine, even to us, who have glimpsed that far and shining shore. The Enemy will think himself triumphant as the darkness deepens, but his victory and kingdom will die aborning, for that battle is already fought and won!"

"The final lap," mused Jace, "I've served this long in hopes of seeing that Day; what is another thousand years?"

The Captain shook his head grimly, "you are allowed to serve as long as you wish lad, but as I said, the world is changing and I fear it will not be in a way to our liking and most, if not all of us, will choose to Go, and sooner rather than later. Are you willing to go it alone?"

Jace looked hopefully at Baye, but his countenance soon bore a desperate, almost heartbreaking, plea instead, for the most senior Shadow was overly grave and silent upon hearing the Captain's words. He smiled sadly in reply to Jace's grieved look, "sorry lad, I'm not sure I can manage it, but we'll take each decade as it comes. I can't promise I'll stay, but neither will I say for certain that I'm apt to Go, either."

Jace nodded grimly, "I suppose that is the wisest way to look at it," but that uncanny grin suddenly appeared, despite his disappointment, "but I've never been counted among the wise, so why start now?" This of course elicited a collective groan from the gathered Shadow, but it also helped to lighten the oppressive mood that threatened to overwhelm the usually resilient members of the Shadow, for which they were all grateful, though no one would ever admit as much to themselves, let alone acknowledging it to Jace himself, for then there'd be no living with him and they'd all be forced to Go, thus was the Shadow spared from an untimely mass retirement, a miracle indeed!

The Captain glanced around at the gathered Shadow and asked, "any further questions or comments?" A grim silence reigned for a moment and then his hand began to glow, with a brilliant flash an aged pair of books appeared in his hands and he said sadly, "these shall be our first casualty then." There was a little surprised murmuring, for the Legends suddenly seemed as vital a part of the Shadow as any of its human members, but with no need for future initiates to peruse them, and as none of the current Shadows had referenced them in years beyond remembering, what was the point of leaving them lie about, abandoned? Feeling as if they were witnessing the death of a dear friend, each averted their eyes as the Captain dutifully destroyed the beloved tomes.

Jace's eyes narrowed once the painful deed was done, "but what about the Lady, sir?"

The Captain shook his head sadly, "the next Lady of Astoria will know nothing of us, Jace. Like our books, we too will pass into myth and then be utterly forgotten in our turn. I am afraid Baye's concerns will be all too real and painful to each of us, and sooner or later, we too will vanish from this reality into whatever awaits Beyond."

Jace stubbornly gritted his teeth and said, "not me sir, not even if I must go through many a long age utterly alone."

The Captain smiled weakly, "you'll do what ever is right lad, at least in that you've never erred or failed us, whatever comes of your typically bold indiscretion and your peculiar sort wisdom. If it comes to it, I'm glad you'll be the Last Shadow." He gave them a few hours to socialize and contemplate this unsettling revelation before dismissing them back to their interrupted duties and then went to ruminate upon this most perplexing matter himself.

The Last Shadow, now there was a grand thought indeed, mused Jace as he sat alone under the night dark trees. Somehow it sounded so poetical and heroic, but what would it truly be like? Stories were grand fun to hear but sometimes the making of a beloved tale was grueling work indeed and little to be enjoyed by those trapped in the midst of them. Could he truly watch the tale of the world unfold as he had once intended, alone and forgotten, as he seemed likely to be before the story was fully told? If only he could put a few questions to the Master, perhaps he could settle his reeling mind.

Suddenly there came the whistle of wings in the dark and a flash of white in the starlight, "you called?" came the pert, avian voice of the Magpie.

Jace grinned in spite of himself, "you mean all I have to do is summon You and You'll come?"

The Bird chuckled, "child, do you think I don't hear the least of your thoughts and quietest prayers? I am always with you, though you cannot always hope for a physical appearance."

"What am I to do?" asked the boy, all his humor turning suddenly to dread.

"What do you want to do?" asked He.

"I want to stay," said Jace firmly.

"Then what is the problem?" queried He.

Said the boy worriedly, "I fear I will miss my friends, that I'll be all alone," he paused, took a deep breath, and continued, "that I won't be able to bear it."

"Have we not already decided that you are never alone?" asked the Bird gently.

"Yes," said Jace, dropping his eyes and studying his knees, before piercing Him with a plaintive gaze, "but it isn't the same."

Then came a sound the boy least expected to hear in the midst of such a painful and perhaps offensive conversation, as the little bird chuckled as merrily as a stream in flood, "I made you to be social creatures, so I suppose one of the most dreadful things, to your mind at least, that can befall you is the loss of all community and fellowship with your fellow creatures. Fear not child, you will not be alone, even if you are the Last Shadow." Jace flinched and reddened, hearing those foolishly romantic words spoken aloud from such a Source, but he could not help smiling likewise at the Master's amusement as He continued, "you see, the least of your thoughts! I know all your little troubles, fears, and conundrums, be at peace, for I have also seen the end thereof. Serve or Go, child, either way, I am ever with you." And He was gone.

Jace sighed in relief and smiled ruefully at his own previous disquiet, he already knew all that and had the countless centuries not proved it time and again? He sat back against a tree with a thoughtful frown, why was he so insistent on staying? He had a vague notion that everyone would get to watch the final act, but for some reason that wasn't enough, he wanted to witness the whole play, or at least as much of it as he could. He'd survived his dearest friends and companions retiring one by one, saving Baye, he was the oldest and longest serving of the Shadow by a wide margin. This thought prompted his roguish grin, reminding him of the days long ago when he had been counted as the youngest and least experienced of the Shadow.

Why didn't he want to Go? Everyone else had, save Baye and the newer recruits that composed the balance of the Shadow. Most it seemed had had enough after a millennium or two, some were content after just a few centuries, why did he insist on more and so much more? "I'm stubborn," sighed he at last, his smile deepened as he heard his unicorn's mental affirmation of that very fact and a sharp reprimand to remember that he was far from alone, ever, the Master not withstanding. He stood, stretched lazily, and thought at his longtime friend, "right you are my friend, and would you still be content to walk through these twilight years together, alone if we must?" A resounding whinny nearly deafened him and the resulting smile nearly split his face asunder.

Just as the echoes were dying away, a brilliant light nearly blinded the boy and there stood a figure he had not seen in a very long time, but to her perception perhaps it was not that long at all. "Ah!" said Molly, straightening her skirts and smiling hugely in greeting, "I wondered when it would be your turn. I think I've very nearly finished my book, but I suppose it wouldn't be complete without a few tales of your own."

"Saving the best for last?" grinned he.

"Certainly not!" replied she with a laugh, "but it wouldn't be quite fair to omit you completely."

"You are most gracious, milady," said he with a florid bow, part in fun but also to cover his sudden nostalgia, for her mention of her seminal work brought poignantly back to him the decided finality of the Captain's recent action, and here was the very authoress proclaiming it not yet complete! The irony was too delicious to be ignored by a humorous palate so discriminating as his, thus driving the whelming tears away, leaving him free to laugh heartily at himself and greet his visitor with honest good cheer.

She seated herself on his abandoned log and began organizing her writing materials, saying as she did so, "I know better than to ask the year or anything of happenings in the wide world, and I know I need not ask if you've had an adventure or three worth recording, that grin alone betrays the fact, now tell me of your best adventures and I'll record them as they ought to be remembered."

Said he with a pensive look, "I suppose I shouldn't hearken back to my perusals of your book and try to discern which might have been my own tales either?"

"Certainly not!" said she in disgust, "for that would be nigh unto plagiarism!"

He shook his head in wonder, "this is a far more complicated project than I had ever thought it might be."

"Yes," mused she, "which is why you aren't writing the book, but a highly satisfying one for all of that."

He chuckled, "I thought it was simply my poor penmanship that held me back. Did I ever tell you of my adventures as a secretary to a great lord?"

"I'm going to be here for the rest of my life, aren't I?" said she with such a sober mien that Jace could not help but give her a pathetic look, his thoughts jumping suddenly back to the day he had both sent her forth on this odd pilgrimage and seen her vanish utterly from the mortal sphere. She took pity on him and laughed eagerly, "come now Master Jace, what has come of your infamous sense of humor?" This roused him into action like nothing else could and he began to spin yarns of his countless adventures down through the ages.

Perhaps a year or three later, he wound down and looked at her hopefully. She gave him that amused smile that said she was vastly pleased but wouldn't think of telling him so by any verbal affirmation, "yes, yes, that will do nicely I think. It should flesh out a few of the awkward corners and finish up the books quite nicely. Although," here she paused and gave him a very wry look, "you could have a third volume all to yourself."

"That I could," mused he, "but then none would ever join the Shadow, my adventures would frighten them all away!"

"At least we are agreed on something," smiled she, and standing she looked at him expectantly, "would you mind? I need to now put my notes in order, copy out the final version, and then get the thing bound."

He bowed deeply and smiled broadly, "my pleasure, milady." She gave him a glorious smile before vanishing in a brilliant flash of light and he could not help but musing that just when he was so worried about being utterly alone and forgotten there was something quite unexpected and refreshingly wonderful right around the corner. Even after all these years, the Master still had His surprises ready and waiting for exactly the perfect moment to spring unlooked for upon His distracted and harried children. He was certainly in good hands, if he could only remember it and rejoice thereat! He felt the unicorn's emphatic snort seconding this very reasonable thought and he could not help but grin all the more. Maybe he should hang up his sword and join the Philosophers if he was going to be so sensible from here on out. But then there was hardly a chance of that happening, at least to him, everyone had a weak moment occasionally. The unicorn's eye rolling response can easily be imagined.

Excerpt from The Greylands: Volume V, 'The Pallid Knight:'

The rain lashing at the windows did nothing to lighten Kyan's mood and only seemed to echo the doubts that plagued his mind when he was too tired or discouraged to chase them away with his usual unshakable enthusiasm. The small, dark cottage in which he and his sister now dwelt offered little by way of comfort or cheer, especially on such a gloomy day. They had once lived in a grand castle, she had been a fine lady, and he had aspired to become a great knight. But now they were little more than paupers, totally dependent on what little remained of their elder brother's beneficence. Kyan had been a squire in the service of a renowned knight when word reached him of his father's sudden death, his brother's assumption of their father's rank and wealth, and his sister's impending nuptials to a knight of most unworthy character. All of which prompted the boy to beg his master's leave to return home until matters could be settled in a more satisfactory fashion. His master had scoffed at his weakness and bid him return home if he must, but bade him not to return if he were so foolish as to leave such a desirous post for so pathetic reason. So Kyan had fled home with all haste, much to his sister's joy and his brother's great displeasure.

Kaya was to wed a rich and powerful knight, though one with a dreadful reputation, as soon as could be arranged. Marlin, their elder brother, did not want to be troubled with the girl and was quite desirous of the benefits to himself that came by forming such an alliance, though it would come at the cost of all his sister's happiness. Kyan would not stand to see his sister wed to such a man and boldly declared this to his brother, who was already aghast at the boy's sudden desertion of his post. He banished them both to the old cottage that had once served the gatekeeper but had long since been replaced by a better and more serviceable abode. Thither they fled and waited to see what might come of the matter once Marlin's wrath had cooled. But in the fortnight since their change of address, they had seen nothing of their brother nor heard anything from him. A retired footman had appeared at their door one bright morning three days after their banishment and had assumed the place of steward, butler, gardener, cook, and drudge. It seemed their brother had at least granted them an allowance of food and the aid of the old servant, though he would not deign to speak to them himself.

Kyan must have sat deep in thought for some time, for the rain had ceased and the bright sunshine of a spring morning was pouring in the window. Kaya stood before him and declared, "I cannot abide it any longer! I must be allowed out of this squalid little hut ere I go mad. Do you think I could have the use of the stables?"

Kyan frowned doubtfully, "I little know what we dare in our current circumstances."

Kaya grinned mischievously, "then I shall dare all of Marlin's wrath for a ride on such a morning!"

She bounced out of the house before Kyan could call her back, but he did catch the eye of their faithful servant, who gave a quick nod of his head and dashed after the lady. At least she would not go alone. The servants in the stable said nothing as the lady and her ancient footman selected their horses and rode out into the brilliant day, fresh after the rain. Kyan watched them go, an unbidden sense of trepidation suddenly rising in his heart; he wondered at this, for it had nothing to do with his brother.

The day was fading into dusk when the breathless servant returned at the gallop, ashen grey and alone. His horse was frothed with sweat and dancing so much with nervousness that it was a miracle the man could maintain his seat. Kyan dashed out into the yard as the man reined the nearly frantic beast to a standstill. The old servant flung himself from the saddle and on his knees, wept out a tale of woe as he clutched his young master's coat and sobbed. Kyan stared at the man, dumbfounded. It could not be, but the old man was far from senile. The horse stood with head hanging and sides heaving, a merry ride in the country could not account for the pitiful creature's state, no matter how far and hard they had ridden. Something had frightened the beast nigh unto death and his rider was in little better state. Kyan freed himself from the terrified old man's clutching hands, said something he could never afterwards remember by way of consolation, and dashed for the castle to inform his brother of these dread tidings.

The doors were firmly closed for the night and the watchman on duty shook his head grimly as the boy pounded vainly on the great oaken doors. Said the guard, "it is no use lad, your brother will not hear you. He has forsaken you and your sister as kith and kin and will no longer associate with either of you, so much have you embarrassed and discomfited him. He will allow you to live quietly under his care, as he might a penniless uncle, but he will not deign to allow you into his presence or acknowledge you as kin. You had best go home and leave things be, ere they grow worse should you further provoke him."

Kyan stopped his pounding upon the door and said in desperation, "but my sister! Our sister! She has this day gone missing! We will need all our strength and more to rescue her!"

The old soldier shook his head sadly, "he will not hear you or acknowledge her as his responsibility. If there is a remedy, you must find it yourself."

The boy nodded in resignation and turned from the great door. As he turned to go, he said to the ancient guard, "could I have the loan of your sword? I have no weapon to my name and this foe is grim indeed."

Moved to pity by the plight of the boy and his sister, of whom he had been fond since they were small enough to bounce upon their father's knee, the old man said, "my armor is old and plain, but the sword is sharp as any of greater name or lineage. Take what you need, for here it will only rust in the damp of night and rain of countless hours of watching."

The boy brightened at this small offer of help, took what the man could spare him, and then dashed towards the stable. He took the horse he had returned home upon and vanished into the night upon the trail of his lost sister. The old servant watched the boy ride off then collapsed into a sobbing heap before the crumbling cottage; he was raving with fever when they found him the next morning and the name he cried out sent a chill through the heart of even the boldest that heard it. Marlin cursed his brother's foolishness for undertaking such a quest alone. Many were the brave knights that had challenged this dreadful foe yet none had ever returned to tell the tale.

Kyan pushed his horse as hard as he dared, knowing he had a long journey ahead of him yet his heart ached to think of his sister languishing in the clutches of this infamous villain. His own courage nearly failed even to think upon that name, let alone to speak it aloud. The Master of Bones was infamous for his cruelty and seeming invincibility, but there was no mistaking that those who had borne off his sister were Minions, the awful slaves of that terrible creature. So he rode on, knowing full well his own death was inevitable but hoping against hope that somehow he might succeed in ransoming his sister. The creature's lair stood atop a mountain at least a week's hard riding from Marlin's castle and Kyan regretted every minute wasted in rest, but neither he nor his horse would live to challenge the Master of Bones if he pressed on as hard as he wished. The days were a blur, he slept uneasily when he stopped to rest the horse, and lived on the dry bread and meat the servant had hastily packed ere his departure. But somehow, both man and beast survived the interminable journey and stood at the base of the mountain atop which a once grand castle perched, wherein dwelt their vile foe.

Kyan drew rein and stopped for their final rest at the base of the path leading up the rocky slope. The tired horse whinnied in terror, catching the creature's scent; he reared, pulled his reins free, and fled back the way they had come. Kyan sighed heavily, not liking to lose his only companion on this suicidal quest, but perhaps it was for the best, at least one of them would survive this fool adventure.

"That beast has more sense than you," came an amused voice, "it would be wise for you to flee likewise."

Kyan jumped at the unexpected utterance but quickly glanced around to locate the source. An old man, hunched and bent, sat upon a stone beside the climbing path though no one had been there a moment before. Said the boy, "I would not attempt such a thing were it not needful sir, that creature has my sister and I must attempt her rescue or forever rue my cowardice."

The old man nodded thoughtfully, "a needful thing perhaps, but certainly not wise unless you can somehow hope to accomplish your task."

The boy nodded glumly, "I know none have lived who have ascended this hill but I must try sir."

The peculiar little man said, "no, none survive but that does not mean you cannot succeed in your goal." The boy frowned in incomprehension as the man continued, "there is a way to rescue your sister but it will cost you your life."

For the first time in days, hope shone in the boy's eyes, "I knew I rode to my death regardless sir, let it not be in vain. What must I do?"

The old man said, "only a true Knight can defeat this dreadful creature and only one willing to lay his life down without struggle or fuss. He must offer himself in the victim's stead, only then can the creature be destroyed and the hostage freed, else all will perish."

The boy sighed, "I am willing to make such a sacrifice yet no knight am I, only a disgraced squire."

The strange little man laughed, "what know these mortal lords of true valor and courage? Come boy, kneel and you shall be a true Knight of the Great King." The boy's eyes widened in wonder but he quickly knelt before the old man, who promptly knighted the boy, and then sent him on his way after telling him exactly what must be said and done. The boy stood, nearly glowing with eagerness and was about to spill forth his thanks to the stranger but he was again alone at the base of the path. He shook his head in wonder and quickly set forth on his last and greatest quest.

He had not gone far when an ugly creature, roughly man shaped but with long arms and a leathery grey hide, accosted him, "would you challenge the Master of Bones fool?"

Kyan took a deep breath and addressed the Minion as calmly as he could, though his heart quivered within him, "I do not come to challenge your master. He has taken my sister and I would take her place. I do hereby surrender myself to your master if he would then free my sister. She is but a disgraced lady of little name and no fortune. I am a true Knight, full and free."

The creature at first seemed taken aback at this statement and then burst into uproarious laughter. Kyan calmly waited for the abomination to regain its senses. The mirthful convulsions finally subsided and the Minion replied as calmly as it could, "very well, my master would be most interested in your plea. Come." He followed the creature as it ascended towards the ancient castle that the Master of Bones had taken from whomever had built it centuries ago. As they climbed, Minions seemed to appear out of every crevice and crack in the stone and from behind every rock. There had never been such an entrance as this in all the long years since the Master of Bones had taken this place as his own. Mortal men came only ever to challenge or as captives, never as a willing victim.

Kyan was surrounded by Minions as they finally came to the ridge on which the ancient ruin stood; the Master of Bones had come forth to meet them. The creature was vaguely troll-like in appearance, being thrice the height of a man with long arms, pasty flesh, scraggly hair, beady eyes, and many cruel and broken teeth. He stared down at his victim and gloated, "not brave enough to challenge me boy? Or perhaps you know I can be bested by no mortal man? In either case, I shall drink your blood and my Minions shall gladly gnaw your bones."

"What of my sister?" demanded Kyan in a bold voice that surprised everyone, most especially himself.

The Master of Bones snorted, "if her freedom is your price, then let the bargain be struck. As soon as you lie dead, she shall go free." "Only," said the monster in great glee, "she must watch."

Kyan flinched, "must you be so cruel?"

He snorted in derision, "what else could I be? Be silent, you are lucky I am willing to bargain at all, but this miserable sacrifice amuses me else I would not humor such folly. Now lie on that stone bier, as is proper for a Knight in death."

Kyan climbed atop the great flat topped stone and lay with his sword on his breast, clutching the hilt with both hands. He heard his sister shriek as the Minions brought her forth to watch this ghastly demonstration; he heard her shrieks of terror turn to sobs of horror as she recognized her brother upon the slab. The Master of Bones smiled at her horror and then bent over the prone Knight, gloating, "I hope the price was worth it boy!" He opened his grim mouth to reveal countless sharp and broken teeth with which he bit down on the boy's exposed neck and severed the great vessels found therein. The sudden shunting of blood from Kyan's brain to the monster's gullet caused the boy to lapse suddenly into darkness, his sister's sobs and the mocking laughter of the Minions were the last things he heard.

The boy's skin grew deathly pale, his heart struggled vainly, and his breathing ceased; Kaya wept inconsolably. The monster stood upright, a dreadful smile on his face, as he sneered down at the limp and unmoving Knight. The girl's sobbing made him smile all the more. He reached down and took up the boy's sword, disappointed to discover the fool was so ill-equipped. His castle was stuffed with treasure once owned by those foolish enough to oppose him. This pathetic creature bore nothing more elaborate than a common foot soldier might possess. A single drop of blood escaped his flabby lips and landed on the sword as he studied the weapon. He cast it aside in disgust, but it did not clatter upon the stony ground as it should have.

He turned to stare in astonishment at the ominous silence and gasped to see his victim sitting up and holding the sword, ready to spring. The monster began to laugh but it turned to a gurgle as Kyan leapt upon him and drove the weapon deep into the creature's chest. They collapsed together upon the stony ground and the Master of Bones fell to dust. A great cry went up from the hapless Minions, who suddenly clutched at their chests and vanished, as had their master. A terrible wind came up and blew away the mortal remains of the Minions and their late master. Kaya remained alone in that desolate place and raced to the side of her unmoving brother, who lay pale and lifeless upon the flagstones. She knelt over the prone form and wept in terror, horror, and relief.

### Excerpt from 'Once a Thief,'

The woman was dead. Darkness fell outside and the boy knelt beside her bed, weeping. A man stood at the open door holding a lamp. He glanced at the sobbing boy and the still figure upon the bed; he did not need to ask why the boy cried. He stared in disgust at his crippled hand, the hand that kept him from providing for his family. His wife had been a weaver and had provided for the family in his stead, but now she was gone, dead of some illness no one had a name for. The last light of the retreating sun was engulfed by the coming night: a perfect depiction of the last dying glimmers of hope fading from his heart. He could neither provide for the boy nor ask the boy to support a crippled father. Without a word, he turned on his heel and entered the empty barn. He flung the lamp into a pile of dusty hay; the entire structure was soon engulfed in flames. The blaze pulled the grieving boy from his mother's bedside, and in horror he watched all that was left of his life vanish in the flames. He no longer felt grief, horror, or anything at all. He was numb, his heart was dead and empty within him. He spent a sleepless night with a myriad of disquiet thoughts running through his mind. When the sun rose, he found a shovel and dutifully buried his mother. There was nothing left of his father. He then went back into the house looking for anything that might have use or value, there was not much to find. He found a waterskin, a blanket, a few scraps of food, and a tinderbox. With his meager treasures, he set off with no hope and a broken heart.

His scanty supply of food quickly disappeared. For days he lived on nothing but what he could scrounge from the land: a scrawny squirrel, a few berries, a small trout. He tried to hire himself out to anyone he met, but they distrusted the look of the unwashed and desperate boy. Times were tough and work was hard to find, even for honest-looking men. With starvation looming on the horizon and unable to procure food honestly, he became what people feared he already was: a thief. At night, he would slip onto a farm and steal a few chickens or whatever came easily to hand. Often dogs or watchful farmers chased him off, but he succeeded often enough to survive. His wanderings brought him to a large market town where the pickings seemed better than the skinny chickens he was used to poaching. He learned to sneak through open windows and unlocked doors in the dead of night and filch whatever came easily. He became skilled at finding targets and avoiding detection. The locals thought a mob of bandits had invaded their town when it was all to be laid at the feet of one hungry boy.

One night, he climbed quietly into the second story window of a large house. He waited on the sill and listened intently. Once he was sure no one occupied the room, he silently crept inside. He glanced around quickly and seeing nothing of value, made his way towards the door. As he crept towards the hallway, he caught the glimmer of moonlight on steel. Before he could vanish out the window, a man emerged from the hallway and held a sword to his throat. "So you are the perpetrator behind this little crime wave?" asked a firm voice with the slightest hint of a smile. The boy nodded dully. "Are you working alone?" asked the man. The boy nodded again. "I am afraid I must arrest you," said the man, "I hope you will not make trouble?" The boy shook his head and reluctantly placed his hands behind his back. "Very good," said the man, "cooperate and things will go better for you." The boy sighed but said nothing. The man gently, but firmly bound the boy's hands and then, placing a strong hand on his shoulder, escorted him from the house.

The family was gathered downstairs, both frightened and excited by the night's events. "That is our gang of bandits?" asked the incredulous father.

The boy's captor smiled, "it appears to be. We shall know more in the morning at his trial. I thank you for your help in apprehending our little thief. Goodnight." The entire family bowed politely to the man as he led the boy out into the night. "You shall spend what little is left of the night in my custody and then in the morning I must turn you over to the local authorities," said the man quietly, "you have cost me much sleep of late." The boy was not sure but he thought he heard amusement in the strong, quiet voice.

They entered a small inn and retreated immediately to the man's room. He unbound the boy's hands long enough for him to eat a little supper and then tied them once more. The man said, "I am sorry to keep you bound but I am afraid I cannot quite trust you not to run away." The boy nodded sleepily and gratefully fell into forgetful sleep. Dawn came too quickly for both of the nocturnal adventurers, but the man roused the boy and instructed him to wash as best he could in the basin of cold water. After his ablutions, the man took him to the common room for a filling breakfast. After his first real meal in living memory, the man bound his hands once more and led him to the building in which his trial would be held at midday.

The boy was placed in a lonely chair facing a great table at which sat several important looking people, including his captor. At his back, the room was packed full of curious onlookers from the town. For the most part, he kept his head bowed and his eyes on the floor, but occasionally he glanced up at the stern faces of the tribunal, hoping to find some glimmer of compassion, but saw only righteous indignation or disgust. Only his captor maintained a neutral expression. Finally, everyone seemed ready to begin and the regal man in the middle stood forth and read an extensive list of the boy's supposed crimes. Many of the deeds were his, but it seemed anyone that had anything go missing of late had blamed it on him. He thought he would remember stealing a cow.

Once the list had been read, his captor stood up and said, "I found him last night sneaking into a house where he had no legal reason to be. He admitted to being the source of your little crime spree and also to working entirely alone. He tells the truth, but I think the list of his crimes is a bit too extensive. I doubt the boy stole a cow or anyone's daughter."

The man sat down and a woman stood, "it is now time for you to make your statement and defend yourself if you can." The boy said nothing and just sat looking dejectedly at the floor. It did not seem to matter what the future held for him. "You decline to make a statement?" asked the woman. The boy shrugged. "Very well," said she, "we shall withdraw to decide upon a verdict." The tribunal withdrew for some little time and then resumed their seats.

The important man stood again, "it is the judgment of this council that you are guilty as charged, save for some revisions to your extensive list of crimes. As you are a first time offender and your crimes are not violent in nature, the death penalty is not warranted. However, your crimes are numerous and it is the decision of this council that you be sentenced to five years in the penal quarries for your crimes." The boy at last showed some emotion. The rock quarries were notorious for being a prolonged death sentence, which might be worse than a quick execution. He would not survive a year, let alone five in such an environment. His captor noticed his reaction and spoke quietly with the man who had just passed down his sentence. They argued quietly for a few moments and then the rest of the council joined in the silent debate. Finally, all nodded in agreement, if not wholeheartedly.

### Excerpt from, 'On Sleeping Beauties: A Foible'

"No, no, no!" rang the irate fairy's strident voice as she perused the text before her, "this will never do, not in the least! That's not how it happened at all!"

"What's wrong with it?" gasped her journalistic companion in surprise, "I thought you were a Reformed Evil Fairy or some such?"

Her glare froze him in his seat as she replied icily, "that does not mean I will swoon and sigh over this pathetic drivel you have the audacity to call literature. Not even my goody-goody sister is that insipid."

"But what is wrong with it?" said the flummoxed, and rather nervous, writer in growing despair.

"The better question," said the fairy wryly, "is what is right with it. Nothing! Absolutely nothing!" She frowned slightly and added, "that and it is utterly dull."

"Dull?!" said he, his ire suddenly replacing his fear and surprise, "it is the consummate fairy tale!"

"That's the problem," said she with a heavy sigh, "I've had to give up the genre entirely in these latter years; it probably isn't your fault, the world isn't what it used to be. I suppose you don't even believe in dragons?"

"Of course not," said the man with a sneer, "why should I? Nor unicorns either, for that matter."

"So you can put a rider on your home insurance policy, of course" said the fairy with a laughing smirk, "what happens if a dragon should happen to fly over your house and sneeze?" He paled at this, wondering if his disbelief were so wise and trendy after all. She continued, "as for unicorns, there's not really any practical reason to believe in them, but it's to your own loss if you don't." He frowned at her, not catching her meaning but she was not about to enlighten him further.

Said he after a long and awkward silence, "very well, madam, I suppose since I importuned you for this very reason. You had best tell me how to improve my manuscript."

"Much better," said the Reformed Fairy of Blackfen, with something almost resembling a genuine smile. She took up the paper again and scanned the text, muttering under her breath as she read, "big party...angry fairy...the girl will die...irritating cousin mitigates the curse...pricks her finger on a spindle...long nap...smooch from a handsome prince...happily ever after." She looked up at him and said solemnly, "if you must know, it is very tedious indeed." His mouth fell open in astonishment but she charged on before he could utter anything he might afterwards regret, as he was in the presence of a magical person who did not suffer fools lightly, said she, "your characters have no personality, your plot has no depth, there isn't even a sprinkling of humor in it, the danger and suspense is nonexistent as we all know the prince will come eventually. That and it's historically inaccurate."

"Fine," grumped the journalist, sitting back in his chair, arms crossed, and the look of a sulking toddler on his face, "enlighten me."

"Oh, that I will," said the fairy in true delight as she tossed the paper aside, laughed she, "and it doesn't even begin with 'Once upon a time:'

"I need a baby," said the noble lady to her husband as he entered their extensive and fashionable house. He stared at her blankly for a moment, as if wondering why she just did not go out and procure one like she did her dresses and shoes, rather than bothering him with such trifling little details, but before he could fathom the full import of her words, she plunged ahead, "I was just over at the Jones's and they have the cutest little boy! Oh, darling! I want one; I must have one! Wouldn't a little girl be just the thing to liven up this rather dreary old house? Think of the adorable little clothes and the accessories I could buy! The congratulations and adulation that would flow in!"

He was about to protest that babies were theoretically expensive, and from what he had heard, they were quite noisy and dreadfully messy, not to mention rather inconvenient, but then that is what one had staff for, was it not? And as money was no object in that particular household, why not? "Very well darling," said he, "if it makes you happy, nothing could please me more."

But it seems infants are slightly harder to procure than shoes of a particular size and shade, which is hard enough, most especially when you are impatient for the fulfillment thereof. So it was that little Midas Jones was walking and beginning to babble almost recognizable verbiage, which his mother insisted were words, whilst our esteemed lady's frustrations mounted over her inability to produce such an adorable creature of her own, but more importantly she was unable to reap the social excitement and congratulations that would undoubtedly flow unceasingly from such a fount. She consulted every known sorcerer, apothecary, physician, and herbalist she could find who specialized in such matters, but all to no avail.

But just as the baby craze seemed to be fading in that particular neighborhood, though exotic poultry were becoming quite fashionable, our lady found herself the mother of a beautiful little girl, in celebration of which, they threw a fantastic party, inviting everyone who was anyone in the entire Kingdom and beyond. The happy couple stood at the door greeting their guests as carriage after carriage rolled up and disgorged one fabulously clad celebrant after another, all obviously bored silly and there out of duty rather than any fondness for children in general or this couple in particular. The proud parents had just turned to follow the last invited guest into the house, when a rather irritated throat cleared behind them, drawing their attention. "Yes?" said the perplexed lady of the house to the rather curiously dressed individual loitering upon her expensive and stately steps.

"I fear my invitation must have been mislaid or lost by the carrier, for I never received it," said the interesting personage.

"Invitation?!" said the lady, quite aghast that this odd person could even think that she would ever extend an invitation to such a peculiar and shabbily clad being.

"It is the only explanation," said the creature, quite indifferent to the hostess' shock, "for who would dare not invite me?"

"Who or what are you, madam?" said the astounded lady.

"What?" said the disturbing vision, with a certain dangerous edge in her voice that even the flabbergasted lady could not miss, "I am not a what but a who, madam! I am the Fairy of Blackfen."

"Ah!" said the relieved host, coming to his lady's rescue, "that explains it then. For you see, we don't happen to believe in fairies, it is quite unfashionable and therefore unthinkable, and since we do not believe in your existence, well, you can't expect an invitation when you don't exist now, can you? No hard feelings I hope. Ta ta!" He stared at her expectantly for a moment, as if he expected her to immediately tip over dead, and then seemed rather crestfallen when she failed to do anything half so obliging.

The fairy frowned at him, "why are you standing there gaping?"

"I would think you of all people would have read that particular story?" said he in wonder, "when I said, 'we don't believe in fairies,' aren't you supposed to drop dead or something?"

The fairy said with a longsuffering sigh, but could not entirely hide her wry smirk, "I am afraid that particular story is not this particular story, thus the rules are quite different. So sorry to disoblige you, now what about my invitation?"

"I am afraid not," said the lady of the house with a firm shake of her head, "it would never do! Your attire alone is five hundred years out of fashion, not to mention what my neighbors would think if I actually let a fairy in the house! It would be utterly ridiculous and I could never again show my face in fashionable society. Now if you were a leprechaun or some other well-to-do and currently in-vogue pixie-type person, I might make an exception, but it is completely unthinkable in this instance! I bid you good day, madam; I have a party to host!"

The fairy laughed darkly and said in her most sinister voice, which was impressively creepy, "what if I threatened to curse your child else?"

"Oh, would you!" said the lady in sudden delight. At the astonished and confused looks she received not only from the fairy but also from her husband, she added by way of explanation, "little Midas Jones was hexed after calling the new teacher at his Montessori, 'an ugly old hag,' when she pinched him and said he looked good enough to eat. It was only the truth after all, but still she sued the Montessori and won enough money to pay cash for that homely old gingerbread mansion down the street. Who builds with carbs nowadays? Anyway, then she went and cursed him besides. Now everything he touches turns to gold! I had thought about asking if we could babysit now and again, but this would be even better." Her husband still looked rather perplexed, though the fairy now seemed to understand far more about this particular couple than they knew about themselves. The lady rolled her eyes and sighed, "what is it dear? What was unclear about what I just said?"

The man shook his head, "what's a Montessori? Some sort of fancy sandwich shop?"

With another sigh, his wife expounded, "it is an elite and expensive school for very young children, I had one picked out even before our daughter was born; you can't start too early, you know." She eyed the fairy eagerly, "what do you think?"

Said the fairy dryly, "I don't think there's a worse curse I could lay on you people than the existence you already lead."

"What is that supposed to mean?" snapped the lady in vexation, "the Jones's have a child with a curse, how am I to be content without one too?"

The fairy wore a mocking smile, "you continue to prove my point, madam. But I won't be cursing your wretched whelp with anything half so interesting as the golden touch. I suppose I could destine her to prick her finger on a spindle and fall into a wakeless sleep, or even to die; it's trite, but effective." She frowned, "but then there's always the matter of some pesky prince showing up and ruining everything; I can't abide a 'happily ever after.' No, I'll leave things as they are, I'll let you stew in your insipidness and go vainly about your pathetic lives, but I will not forget this and one day, I will have my revenge on the entire neighborhood. It used to be an actually respectable part of the Kingdom, except maybe for that troll under the bridge, but I'd take him over any of your ilk, drat those goats! At least he kept the riffraff out."

The lady looked rather baffled after this expostulation and asked for clarification upon the most important point, at least to her thinking, "what exactly is a spindle?"

The fairy sighed heavily, and replied, "I suppose you've never actually had to do any sort of actual handicrafts? Making your own dresses, spinning, sewing, that sort of thing?"

"Making dresses?" said the flummoxed lady, "I have never heard of anything so ridiculous! Why, I just send a page down to a certain seamstress with precise instructions as to what I want and need, and her lad brings it over in a trice. No fuss, no mess, just magic! Or does she grow them? Sewing indeed! What nonsense!"

The fairy's head was in her hands, though whether trying to hide her amusement or frustration this tale does not tell, sighed she at long last, "never mind madam, it matters not." And then she vanished. The baffled couple exchanged a perplexed look and then went in to their guests with quite the story to tell."

"That is utterly ridiculous!" gasped the journalist, as the fairy paused in her telling of the tale.

"I know," sighed the fairy, thinking she had made her point at last, "such was the state of the world even then, and it has only grown worse since."

"No!" said the offended man, "they could have been my parents! What happened to the King and Queen? The castle? Who wants to hear a fairy tale set in the suburbs?"

"Apparently not you," said the fairy darkly, but softening her tone, she said more graciously, "but then you can't really help your upbringing I suppose and it explains much about your own lackluster tale." She glanced derisively at the cast off manuscript, "I suppose you can't help that! Now do you want to hear the rest of the tale or shall I call in a psychologist so you can work through your traumatic childhood first?"

"By all means, please continue," said the man, who was now white as a ghost, though whether at the thought of displeasing this magically dangerous personage or at the very idea that he might need counseling, she did not know. She smiled in a very pleased fashion, for either would suffice, and then continued:

"After the congratulations and socially enforced awe that attend the advent of a new baby in the family had subsided to a mere trickle, and as the lady's trendy chicken fetish consumed more and more of her time, the child was relegated to the care of a person known only as 'nurse.' And as Nurse was a rather old and perpetually exhausted person, she required a great deal of sleep, which only increased as the child grew, thus the dear lady spent most of her waking hours dozing in a chair in the garden whilst her charge ran amuck amongst the ferns and hedgerows. While her mother truly had picked out a Montessori, a husband, the names of her grandchildren, etc. before the girl was even born, the all-consuming pressure of trends and fashion soon turned her mind to other, more pressing concerns and her daughter's brilliant future was quite soon forgotten therewith.

The disgruntled fairy had not forgotten her promise and watched the family with interest as the child grew, wondering if she could come up with a curse worse than the girl's current reality. However, the girl was not without allies, for this particular fairy had a sister, one with whom she was not on very good terms, for in the elder's usually blunt way of expressing things, she summed up her younger sister as a quote, 'goody two-shoes!' The younger saw what the elder was plotting and felt the need to intervene on behalf of the child, though whether she was protecting the girl from her parents or her vengeful sister, or both, was yet to be seen."

"This is actually becoming a little bit interesting," said the man, whose complexion had returned to a somewhat more natural color, "do you not find it odd to speak of yourself in the third person?"

The fairy glared at him and he was suddenly pallid as milk once more, said she, "if you would please not interrupt, you will soon discover that the story becomes quite interesting indeed. And a good storyteller has no difficulty in speaking in the third, fourth, or even fifth person!"

The man frowned, "the fifth person?"

"Only slightly more difficult to master than the fourth-and-a-half person," said she with dancing eyes, causing his cheeks to redden in fury as he realized she was making fun of him rather than imparting the literary secrets of Faerie. Ignoring his interest in the grammatical rules peculiar to immortals, she continued...

Three wise men of Gotham,

Went to sea in a bowl,

And if the bowl had been stronger,

My song had been longer.

~Nursery Rhyme~

A tale from 'Over the Hills and Faraway,'

Wisdom's Children

The first had eyes doleful as any hound, equally bloodshot with drooping lids. The second wore a look gloomy as death, one could not gaze upon his countenance without declaring, "this then is the meaning of lugubrious! Whenever they get around to writing dictionaries, his likeness shall ever be linked with that horrid word." The third never said anything but peered down his long nose like a crow staring down from a dead tree, too great and wondrous to notice the goings on of the lesser beings about him, save perhaps with a sneer. They were academics, they were professors, they were brilliant, they were going to sea. The University of Gotham had grown rather small for these men of towering intellect, the confined one story space was so cramped with students and lesser professors that there was hardly room to stand, let alone sit or maintain the requisite personal space necessary to such men of lofty mien, but they would not be driven from their nest like terrified fledglings reluctant to fly. No! Rather they were setting themselves an academic challenge to which they must rise and would shine forth all the brighter. They would go to sea! The things they would learn, the space they would have! They were dizzy with the sheer wonder of such heady thoughts.

As they were such brilliant men, never did they think to ask, 'how does one go to sea?' Never did they talk with sailors or fishermen or shipbuilders, such common folk could know nothing of the intricacies of an ocean voyage. Neither did they know of any esteemed Doctor in the nautical arts, they might have deigned to speak with such a colleague, but to their expansive knowledge none such existed in the known world. Perhaps they might have read a book upon the subject, but as there was no esteemed Doctor to write such a tome, there was certainly none in existence they would stoop to reading. Instead, they peered at the sea, talked amongst themselves, and theorized, which must be far the wiser course of action, for men of learning must know something even about things of which they know nothing, for an expert in one field is undoubtedly an expert in all.

So it was for a year and a day they talked and thought and argued about the best means by which to go to sea. The results were rather splendid, even more so because the project was fully financed by the King, who acted as benefactor to this astounding project for unspoken reasons of his own. They stood upon the quay, resplendent in their nautical garb (of their own design also) of brilliant purple, silver, and cloth of gold; their hats alone were works of such art that many a lady pined over their beauty to her thrice great-grandchildren. Beside them floated their craft, a perfectly spherical bowl, painted and gilded to match their own brilliant garments. The usual inhabitants of the dockyards stood off to one side in their peasant drabbery, their faces unreadable and silent at this interruption in their routine but a hostile fog floated unseen around the intruders and their gaudy craft and clothes alike. The entire populous of the University turned out to wish the voyageurs a fond farewell, the students gawking like peasant children upon their first sight of a distant castle and the lesser professors envious behind their painted smiles. The ceremony was long, tedious, and full of words too long to bother repeating, but at last all was settled in an appropriately glorious fashion and the adventurers boarded their craft which summarily capsized with their ill-distributed weight, plunging the three into the murky depths below.

The peasant rabble did not bother to hide their mirth at seeing these all too high and mighty persons brought down by their own folly while the envious lesser professors wondered if they might not find themselves elevated should their esteemed peers accidentally drown. The students continued to gape in silence, not realizing that this was not part of 'The Plan,' as it would never occur to their finely cultivated minds to think that such esteemed personages could ever make a mistake, no matter how minor. So it was that no one rushed to the aid of the beleaguered seamen, but rather stood about lost in their own contemplations of the circumstances. But thankfully, our lofty professors were not without their resources. They had never bothered to learn to swim, but such a basic skill that could be mastered by the dullest of peasant children must come naturally to men of their persuasion. But there was also the perplexing matter of one's pride, would it not be better to drown rather than face the mirth of their peers, and worse, the peasantry in what should have been their finest hour? What about the state of one's clothes! One could not emerge from the sea dripping and soggy, like a cat caught in a downpour; it would never do!

So they thought to themselves as the waters closed in around them and no hand came to draw them from the engulfing sea. Had a hand reached out in help, they would have slapped it away in pride, for none of their esteemed colleagues was esteemed enough to offer rescue! The lugubrious fellow began to theorize on the art of swimming and had just come to the point of trying a few bold strokes himself when he was quite overwhelmed by the surrounding wetness and lost to all theorization thereafter. The man with hound's face thought to make a study of the intricacies of the submerged world in lieu of his sea voyage, forgetting for a moment that he was not a natural denizen thereof, until he became a permanent resident. The sneering academic sat upon the bottom and snarled at the jaunty outline of their fabulous bowl-ship, a mere shadow amid the hazy light of the water's surface, daring anyone to come to his aid, daring the water itself to do its worst. Whether the water heeded him or not, none can guess, for he has yet to emerge and give an account of the matter and the sea will only murmur to itself in a language outside of mortal ken.

The students went back to their studies, eagerly awaiting the day when the esteemed professors would return from their in-depth study of the ocean depths while their colleagues began plotting how best to use this tragedy for their own advancement. The bowl floated merrily next to the quay and the peasants went back to their livelihoods, a knowing smile upon their less than enlightened faces. The three apparently continue their studies to this day, their lecture no doubt will be quite enlightening upon their return, but for some reason the fishermen of that little village believe quite the contrary, shaking their heads and grinning knowingly whenever the subject is broached. But then what do such uneducated and silly folk know of such matters?

