 
# Gods and Demons in Love

by

Claudette Gilbert

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2012 by Claudette Gilbert

Smashwords Edition License Notes

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Click here to see my author page for a list of my other stories published on Smashwords.

# *****

Note: These stories are in the order the events occur. (Okay, in "The Shaman's Lover," Nate Lee is in a spaceport in the distant future telling the tale of what happened in the age of mammoths, but the "present" for that story is still the spaceport.) If you've already read the other stories and want to skip to the conclusion, click "Love's End."

# Table of Contents

# Sister Darkness

# Lost in the Ruby

# The Shaman's Lover

# Love's End

# Death and His Daughter

# About the Author

*****

# Sister Darkness

"I don't care if you stay or go, Nate Lee. I don't need your power; I have my own." Annith wrapped her tattered shawl close about her bony shoulders and rocked back and forth at her place by the fire. With both hands, she pulled at her long gray hair where it hung around her face like strands of dirty wool.

"I'm bound by my oath," I replied. I sat opposite her, as old and ragged as she. The two of us made a pair on either side of the little cabin's stone fireplace. Nothing else lived there, not even a rat. Annith had eaten them all.

"All you have to do is tell me your heart's desire, Annith, and then I will leave." I'd lost track of the number of times I'd said those words, and she answered as she always did.

"I'll tell you when I'm ready, and not before." She paused to glare at me. "In the meantime, must you look like a drooling dotard?"

"There is no 'must' for me," I replied. "I merely look like you."

"Well then, stop it! Do you think I like this old woman's body? Do you think I want to look at a worn out old man like you? I don't need your ugliness to remind me of what I am. Change, now!"

I sighed and looked at Annith, Annith grown old, with a body like sticks wrapped in rags. I would have pitied her if I did not know her so well. Yet, I stayed out of love, love ground to dust and ashes, love like bile on my tongue. Where have you gone, my beloved Laheese? Where is the spirit that made you a wonder and a dream? I stayed with Annith to keep my promise to sweet Laheese, and I regretted every word of that oath. But to please Annith, I stirred and changed. And now I was a younger man, not old, but not a youth, a little more than average tall, with fair skin, fair hair, and ice-blue eyes.

"Does this please you?" I smiled to show her that I now had all my teeth.

"You look like someone's clerk!"

But then Annith turned suddenly toward the door. A look of satisfaction filled her face, all the lines and wrinkles falling into an expression of smug glee. I, too, had felt the trap spring, and shuddered, knowing the prey was well and truly caught. Deep in the seat of my power I felt their hot, wet mortality. I saw how Annith smiled with pleasure at her skill and her cunning.

"Let them go," I said. "They've done you no wrong."

"What's that got to do with anything, Nate Lee?" Annith replied, her voice as dry as old bones. "I hunger. That's all that matters. You'd as well expect me to ask an egg whether it wants to be fried."

I sighed and reached for a stick to stir the fire. I could not leave Annith, not until released from my vow. Oh, sweet Laheese, lady of bountiful pleasure; this far daughter is not like you, beloved for all of my life, my much too long, long life.

My Laheese was the lady of spring flowers, the garden of my delight. It was for her sake I kept my promise and watched over her daughters, her many, many daughters. Someday I would give Annith her heart's desire; that was my oath and my curse. That was the promise I'd made so long ago to Laheese, that I would give her heart's desire to her daughter and her daughter's daughters, so long as her line continued. It has seemed so little to ask at the time. And so I came to each woman in turn, down the long, long road of time; and I kept my word and in the keeping, I destroyed them, every one.

Annith's mother had lain with a Dark Lord, and her heart's desire had been a child by her Lord. So Annith was born, a girl child who feared nothing and no one save her father; a girl child who lingered between mortal and demon. Annith aged as her mother had aged, but she fed as her father fed. She knew of my oath—I'd long since let her glimpse what I was—but heartless Annith could not tell me her heart's desire, so I tarried here in the mountains.

Just an hour later, we heard knocking at the door of the cabin, and Annith shuffled slowly across the worn floorboards to answer. She panted with the effort of walking across the one bare room of the cabin, and I could almost hear her joints creak as she moved.

"Enter, and welcome!"

Her voice was a cackle. Hens in the barnyard spoke more fairly than she. Annith was a hag with hair that fell into her eyes. Her clothes were the rags of once fine garments. Her visitors looked askance at her age and poverty, yet it was plain they were grateful for the shelter of the cabin. The snow was still deep in the valley, and the air was cold. Shivering, they entered. They glanced once at me and saw a man neither old nor young, neither handsome nor plain, and then they looked away.

"Thanks," said the man, shaking the snow from his coat. "We're real glad we found you. We almost missed this place, hidden away like it is. Wouldn't have found it at all if I hadn't spotted the smoke from your chimney."

Annith smiled at his smooth, take-charge face. Expensive clothes covered his soft body, well matched to his easy sense of command. He smelled of cologne and competence.

"Our car broke down," the woman explained. She was plump and pretty, and she carried a sleeping boy in her arms. Her fine blonde hair escaped in wisps from under the hood of her red jacket. "It just stopped dead."

"Probably damp plug wires," the man said.

It was plain that he took the failure of the car as a slur on his abilities. He didn't know about the trap Annith had set, of course. I sighed once, for a moment thinking of trying to warn them; but I would not cross Annith, not until she'd revealed her heart's desire. They were prey, and it was her nature to feed.

"I'll take care of it after while," he promised us all, as if we might doubt his word. "I just wanted to get Madeline and Tommy out of the cold, and Sister Angelica, of course."

As he spoke, another woman entered. Black robe and white coif—a nun, smelling of innocence and gentle piety. I started to speak, but Annith motioned me to silence. Quietly, I moved my right hand to cover the ruby of the ring I wore on my left. No nun should see that sullen red stone where souls screamed in a hell of their lovers' making.

"Come in, come in." Annith grinned her toothless grin and shuffled back into the room. "Make yourselves warm. Close the door. Come to the fire. The night is almost here."

The boy stirred in his mother's arms and whimpered a little. She fussed over him and pulled the hood of his parka around his face. He looked to be about three years old, a handsome, well-formed child.

"I'm Thomas Jeffers," the man said, "and this is my son, Thomas Junior."

"Hello, Thomas Junior."

Annith leaned over the boy and touched his cheek with her finger. The boy's eyes opened, and he stared at her in dumb terror. Then I knew; of the four, only he was able to see truly.

"And this is my wife Madeline and our friend, Sister Angelica."

"Welcome to all of you. Call me Annith, and this poor man is Nate Lee." She smiled with false friendship. She had no trouble telling them her name, nor mine. Annith feared the power of only one Name. "Nate Lee is odd sometimes, but harmless," she lied. "Come, sit here by the fire. You must be nearly frozen."

She led them to the rosy glow and the smell of wood smoke. I nodded once, but didn't speak. They crouched around the flames, sprawling on the rickety chairs like so many discarded bundles. They smelled of wet cloth and rubber and sweat. They were tired, all of them; and they were comforted by the warmth, all except the boy. Yet, he was too frightened to speak, or perhaps only too young.

"I have coffee or hot chocolate, and bread and butter. I could make toast." Annith played the gracious hostess as if she meant what she said.

Madeline looked up, clearly grateful for the offer. So Annith cooked for them, good mortal food, served by her own hands. Sister Angelica sat next to me, unafraid. Annith sat at her other side. The nun smelled of clean linen and soap. She was a little older than the woman, Madeline. There were lines on her face, but her skin was still soft and plump. Sister Angelica smiled with kind eyes. Annith handed her a cup of hot chocolate and a slice of buttered bread. Sister Angelica thanked her and took it. Then, she folded her hands together, bowed her head, and said words over the food. I watched the nun, fearing what Annith would do.

"What are you doing?" Annith nudged her arm. "Why don't you eat?"

Sister Angelica looked at Annith, a little puzzled; but she unfolded her hands. Annith had her attention now.

"I was saying grace."

Her voice was light, and her breath was sweet. Watching Annith lean close to her stirred something inside me, some feeling I'd thought long dead. I shifted a little in warning, but Annith feared only her father.

"Grace?" Annith asked the nun, as if she'd never heard the word.

"A prayer to God, of thanksgiving for the food."

"But God didn't give you the food." Annith scratched at the festering scabs on her leg. "I gave it to you."

"And God gave it to you. He is always the first giver." Sister Angelica smiled her sweet smile. "I take it you aren't a Christian?"

"No," Annith said slyly. "I follow another religion."

Once again, I made as if to speak, but Annith waved her hand, and all the guests froze, like so many images of themselves. This was Annith's power, to mold matter to suit her. She was by far the most dangerous of my lost love's daughters.

"Did you hear that, Nate Lee?" she demanded of me. "This woman invoked the invisible god over a bit of food, and not even very good food. I'd never call my Father to preside over such trivia." Indeed, the thought of invoking the Dark Lord for such nonsense made her shudder.

"It's their custom," I said. She had power over matter, but not over me, nor did her Father have any say in what I did. Only sweet Laheese bound me; only my lost love, dust all these millennia. "Let them go, Annith. Find some mortals less innocent for your feast."

"Let them go! Well enough for you to say, Nate Lee. Your joints don't ache like a rotten tooth. If you felt my pains, you'd use your power the same way I do mine. But no, you're no halfling like me; you're all godling, or all demon, whatever you want to call yourself. You're as old as you please, and you do as you please. Well, I do too. I do as I please, and it pleases me to use the mortals I have to hand."

She waved her hand, and her guests resumed their lives, never suspecting what she'd done. As for me, I got up and went to walk in the woods, seeking comfort in the trees. Behind me, I heard Sister Angelica protest as I went out the door.

"Oh, don't worry about Nate Lee," Annith said. "He's in no danger from the cold."

In the morning, Tom Jeffers, decided to try to start the car. He seemed startled when Annith offered to accompany him. She donned a thick black coat, too big for her, and almost to heavy for her to wear. She added a red wool scarf that someone had made some years ago—the stitches were coming undone. She had no gloves so she shoved her gnarled, arthritic hands into her pockets. She stank of mothballs and mildew.

"It's cold out, and it will be a long walk," Tom Jeffers said. "You should stay here where it's warm."

"The path looks different going back," Annith insisted. "You might not be able to find your car, but I know the place well. I'll come along to guide you."

"I'm sure I can find my way, or if you really think I need a guide, why not Nate Lee? You say he'd a little odd, but he looks strong."

He glanced at me where I sat once again by the fire. I stood, ready to go with him, ready to forestall Annith this once.

"Oh, Nate Lee is strong," Annith answered, with a smile only I understood. "But he can't be let out on his own. No, I'll come along. I won't be any trouble, I promise."

In the end, he agreed. I was left behind, unable to act against the wishes of a daughter of Laheese, and Annith smiled as she followed Tom Jeffers out into the cold.

* * * * *

"Where's Tom? Where is my husband?" Madeline demanded again. Annith had come back alone, as I knew she would. I watched her stretch, moving freely again. Her step was lighter and quicker, even her face seemed fuller. Soon, she'd be strong enough to leave this remote mountain valley. Annith refused to answer, but Madeline wouldn't be ignored. The frantic woman grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her.

"Where is he! What have you done with him?"

Carelessly, Annith shoved her away. Madeline's body hit the cabin wall with a thud, and she slid down it, weeping softly. Sister Angelica hurried to comfort her. I saw the nun wipe the fear from her own face as she took Madeline in her arms. The boy, Thomas Junior, stared silently from where he crouched in the corner. He knew his father wouldn't be coming back. Looking over her shoulder, Annith smiled at him, and he shuddered.

As for me, looked into the heart of the ruby I wore, where memories glittered in crimson light on my hand, and I knew I'd done far worse than Annith, and done it in the name of love.

* * * * *

"I don't understand this."

Madeline's face dripped tears. I'd brought in her husband's body, his skin pale and without wounds. The corpse lay behind the cabin now, buried in the snow. I'd kept silent, as I'd promised; but Annith had not. She enjoyed teasing them with the truth. She'd told them what she was and what she'd done; and I saw that not a one of them believed her, except perhaps the boy. The world outside the cabin was white and still and cold, like Tom Jeffers. The mortals inside only awaited Annith's pleasure before they joined him in the snow. Day after day the cold lingered, and no one made any effort to leave, until the very thought of leaving seemed as remote as a dream. Over and over again, I heard Madeline make the same lament.

"You poisoned my husband!" she accused, ready to believe anything but the truth. Her eyes were wild and her hands tore at her hair as if she didn't know what they did. She could sense that she and her son were trapped, Sister Angelica too, but she couldn't truly comprehend why or how. "Don't bother with your crazy lies about the Lord of Darkness—"

"Stop it!" Annith warned with a hiss. Like a snake, she rose from her seat, swaying over the miserable woman. "Don't say His name!"

"If you don't want them to say his name, why have you told them about him?" I asked, weary of this needless torment, weary of the cabin, weary of Annith, weary of myself. "Are you really that foolish?"

She turned on me, green eyes bright, movements quick and lively. Yes, she'd fed well on Tom Jeffers.

"I was lonely, Nate Lee. You're no company to me, with your oath and your sighing after a corpse. No doubt you can't understand, but sometimes the part of me that's human gets lonely. I have to show myself sometimes, or the burden gets too heavy, and none of these mortals ever will tell."

"I don't understand," Sister Angelica said, rising to try to soothe Madeline, as always. She took the other woman's hand, although Madeline didn't seem to notice her. "Why is it so important not to speak your father's name."

"Because I forbid it! Nate Lee is right. I've told you too much already. You will not speak His name."

"I'll say whatever I want," Madeline said, her voice shrill and frightened. "I've had enough of you, enough of this place. I'm not going to tolerate any more of your fantasy about the Lord—"

"No! Be silent!"

Annith raised her hand, and I did not stop her. Sick with fear, she silenced the woman. Annith closed Madeline's mouth, she closed her face. I watched as Madeline's flesh grew together, leaving no opening for that dread Name to escape in summons. In terror, Annith crouched on the rough floor of the cabin, burying her face in her hands. Almost, I could pity her, but I pitied Madeline more as her body arched in spasms while she tried to breathe through the mask of her own flesh. Sister Angelica stared in helpless horror, as Madeline clawed bloody furrows where her nose and mouth had been. But soon she was still, limp in the little nun's arms.

Annith would have run if she could, tried to hide, but she knew there was no safety in flight, not from the Lord of Darkness and Delight. I smelled the stink of her loosened bowels, and I heard the keening, wail that came from her throat.

"Has He heard, Nate Lee? Answer me!" Her hands covered her face, and she rocked back and forth in her terror.

"Yes," I said, not moving from my corner by the fire, "He always hears"

"But did He listen? Has this foolish Madeline summoned Him?," Annith demanded. "Oh, I never should have kept these people so long.

"I will kill them," she promised Him wailing. "I will do as you have taught me, Father, only let me live." She sobbed, and her terror was like an offering to Him. "Let me live," she begged Him, "let me live."

At last, with sweet words Sister Angelica spoke to her.

"Get up. Dry your tears. There's no need to fear anyone as much as this."

Annith raised her head, and Sister Angelica's black skirts brushed her cheek. I marveled that the little nun could offer comfort in the face of such horror. Most mortals would be screaming now, as Madeline had tried to scream, or curled in a ball in the corner like young Thomas Junior.

"There is good reason to fear my Father," Annith said, trembling. Her hands clutched the dark wool habit as if clutching at a last hope. "That fool Madeline would have called Him here."

Sister Angelica sighed. Was there pity in that sigh? For whom? For Madeline? For Annith? For herself? Perhaps for all of us.

"The poor woman won't call anyone now," Sister Angelica said.

Annith looked away from the dense black of Sister Angelica's skirts. Yes, there was Madeline, sprawled nearby. On her hands and knees, Annith crawled to where Madeline lay. She pushed Madeline's hair away from where her face had been. Annith saw how, in her terror, she had sealed Madeline's lips, and her eyes, and her every orifice so that the poor bitch had suffocated under her own skin. Madeline was dead, and Annith was still hungry and still afraid.

"What have you done to her? How did you do that to poor Madeline? How could you do it!" Sister Angelica asked.

"I changed her," Annith said turning away, indifferent to the empty corpse. She couldn't feed on the dead.

"Changed?"

"Changed. It's what I do. I told you that. I can change things, and I can feed. That's all I do."

"Did you feed on Madeline?"

"Of course not. You can see that she's dead." Annith licked her lips. "But I fed on Thomas Jeffers."

"But how?"

Annith looked at her in surprise.

"Life, I take life."

"But how?" Sister Angelica repeated.

Did she think that by understanding Annith, she could avoid her fate? I wondered. Annith would keep her for a while, but hunger always returned, sooner or later.

"How do you eat?" Annith countered, growing impatient with the questions. "Can you tell me how bread and cheese becomes Sister Angelica?"

The nun was silent, thinking. It made no difference.

"My Father takes in life as he breathes, all life except my mother's," Annith said. "But I, I had to be taught. I wasn't born knowing how to use my gift, but once I found it, it set me apart forever.

"I take all their years, their days, their hours, and the time is mine—mine forever. The taste of their time is sweet, and they give me much power."

"Sister Darkness, you steal their souls!"

Annith smiled. For the first time, Sister Angelica was truly afraid of her.

* * * * *

The days passed, slowly, as fearsome days do pass. The four of us remained in the little one-room cabin with its broken furniture and broken lives. I waited for Annith to discover her heart's desire, and Annith? I wasn't sure why she tarried now. It was unlike her to wait so long to feed, not with two tender, innocent lives awaiting her pleasure.

Annith fed her captives so they would not go hungry, and she kept the cabin warm so they would not be cold. She talked to them constantly, or rather, she talked to Sister Angelica. The boy she ignored except to shove him out of her way if he forgot himself and crossed her path. Sister Angelica cared for Thomas Junior, bathing him and seeing that he ate. But he was pale and listless, too afraid to cry, too lost to care. One evening Annith watched with jealous eyes as Sister Angelica held the boy and rocked him, as much for her own comfort, I supposed, as for the child's. Annith used her power to change a spider into a flower, a dainty pink rose, and held it toward the nun.

"I'll spare the boy, if you'll worship me, " she said as she tickled Sister Angelica's ear with the rose. "Such a pretty ear. Why doesn't it listen to me?"

Sister Angelica shook her head and brushed at the rose as if at a fly. "You'll spare him only for so long as it suits you," she said. "You'll keep your promise only until you're hungry again."

"Worship me! I am the daughter of the Dark Lord. Your invisible god is nothing; I am a goddess, here before your eyes."

"There is no need for me to see Him. He who believes without seeing shall have the greater reward."

Sister Angelica sounded like a good little girl child reciting her creed. She must have learned it very young. The sing-song of memorization was still in her voice.

"He? What about she? Is your God only for men?"

Annith leaned close to the nun. "I wonder," she said, looking over to me with a sly smile. "Does she like men best, or women? I can be either, if I choose."

"He or she," Sister Angelica said. "It makes no difference. Faith is all that matters."

"You believe in a god you can't see, a god you wouldn't see if you could, because that would lessen your reward. You're a strange woman, Sister Angelica."

"I didn't say I don't want to see Him. I said it's not necessary. Faith is necessary."

"There is no need to have 'faith' in my Father," Annith said, shivering in the sudden chill. The sky darkened as she remembered Him. Outside, next to the cabin, I saw a bird stop in mid-flight and fall dead from the sky.

"His power is a cold wind and a winter storm at midnight. His beauty is ice in the moonlight. Only, my mother loves Him enough not to fear Him."

"You sound as if you fear your father yourself," the nun said gently. She turned to the boy again, and stroked his face with her pale and fluttering hands.

Annith stared at her, amazed.

"Of course, I fear the Bloody Lord. I'd be a fool, otherwise."

Still, Sister Angelica was firm in her own faith.

"I will not worship you or your father."

But Annith was not through. There were many temptations. She softened her voice. She could sound gentle when she choose.

"I could make you young again. I could change you from Sister Angelica to Sister Desire."

I watched with interest, wondering if this offer would tempt Sister Angelica. More than once, the heart's desire of a daughter of sweet Laheese had been youth and beauty. And more than once, it had brought destruction of all they truly loved. But the little nun was wise.

"No, keep your gifts, Sister Darkness," she said. "I'd be a fool to trade heavenly immortality for false youth."

"Youth and love," Annith whispered. She tried to take Sister Angelica's hand, but the nun pulled away from her. "I could love you as no man has ever loved you."

"No."

Sister Angelica turned away, and hid her face from Annith. I saw her lips move as she spoke to this god of hers. She twisted her beads around her fingers and clutched them as she prayed. Her head was bent over the child as if seeking protection in his innocence. If I had a heart, it would have broken, watching her.

"Does it bother you that I'm a woman?" Annith's tickled Sister Angelica's neck with the rose. "I could be a man, if that pleased you."

"You offer one perversion after another. What must I do or say to make you understand?" Sister Angelica replied, beginning to loose her patience at last. "I am a Bride of Christ, and the only love I want is God's love."

"You still reject me?"

Angrily, Annith pulled apart the rose. The petals blackened, as if after a frost and fell to the floor like so much soot.

"I don't reject you; I reject your offer."

"They are the same thing, my offer and I!"

Annith's anger was potent. I watched it rise like smoke to the heavens. Like incense on an altar, it curled to her Father's domain. The sky turned black, streaked with red gashes, like blood from the sun. The wind howled and pulled Annith's hair. He was coming. Even the little nun knew something was wrong.

"Sister Darkness, stop this! You frighten me."

"It's not me you should fear," Annith said as she tried to control her chattering teeth. "Fear Him. He is coming. He's not like your God. He comes when I call Him."

"Oh, Father," she prayed, "don't come. Don't come here. I didn't mean it. My anger was false, I swear it!" Now, there was a glow on the horizon, an unbearable light. "Help me, Nate Lee! He will find Sister Angelica. He will know what I loved another more than Him. His wrath will be terrible."

Yet, despite the nearness of the Lord of Darkness, I saw that Sister Angelica's lips still moved in prayers to her invisible god. Was this faith?

"Save me, Nate Lee!" Annith begged.

"Save you?"

She threw herself against me, clutching the denim of my jacket. "Yes, yes. Save me from my Father, that is my heart's desire! Save me from Him!"

So, I put aside my cloak of mortal flesh and stood revealed in my power. Annith screamed and Sister Angelica fainted. Only the boy stared at me, eyes wide, beyond fear, even of me. Annith had power over form, and yet her power was as a ripple of breeze where her father's power was a thunderstorm. But what she saw at last was that my own power was enough to blast the world like a single great hurricane. Before me, the creature that called itself the Lord of Darkness and Delight would bow down and tremble. I put my hand on Annith's brow and the ruby in my ring flamed with scarlet light. The blood red rays washed over Annith, over Sister Angelica, over the boy crouched at my feet. In the distance, I felt the Dark Lord coming, summoned by Annith's rage. I reached deep into the heart of the ruby, past the lairs of screaming souls, past pain and loss, past desire, and I commanded change.

* * * * *

It was time, now, for Mass. She who had been Annith sighed and pulled her habit close about her, hoping the wool will ward off the chill that seemed always to rise from the stones of this old church. She didn't know if Sister Angelica's God had noticed her yet. Like the little nun, she couldn't see Him.

She wore Sister Angelica's form now, and she lived Sister Angelica's life. No one questioned her; no one doubted. Even Annith could scarcely remember who she had been. Only the boy, Thomas Junior, knew the truth. She'd brought him here to the nunnery with her, a charity case she told them, the only survivor of a freak accident. The boy's eyes always watched her, but he would never speak. She went to pray to Sister Angelica's God, and she feared He would listen to her.

And in the heart of the ruby, deep in blood red cloisters, the soul of Sister Angelica knelt in a ruby walled cathedral and prayed to her God unending. But the strangest part of all her prayers what that sometimes—just sometimes—she prayed for me.

# The End

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*****

# Lost in the Ruby

Now, Anna Louise was a plain-looking girl, but nice enough all the same. She made a man think of mother or sister and left his loins at rest. She had mouse-brown hair and mouse-bright eyes and a pale and plump little face. Yes, Anna Louise was a good girl for a girl growing up in a bar—Sam Rosen's bar; her daddy's place, that was.

Her mama had died young of delight and dreamstuff and left Sam a widower with a girl child to raise. Sam did his best by Anna Louise, when he remembered he had a daughter. He fed her on beer and eggs and the little fried snacks from the bar. He dressed her in whatever clothes he could find, sometimes new and sometimes patched. And me, I stayed around to watch the child grow, to keep a promise I'd made to a woman long dust. I'd loved a mortal woman once, and I'd paid the price down all the long time since.

It was a summer night, hot and wet, a night made for joining flesh together. The sweat beaded on my temples. My shirt was wet at the back. Sam sat alone at a table for two while his daughter tended the bar. Sam had loved his one child's mother and lost her in her prime. She'd wanted pleasures beyond his giving. She'd wanted paradise in a powder, heaven in a packet of pills. I took another gulp of fast-warming ale and glanced down at the ring I wore. The ruby flashed dark as blood, burning with souls imprisoned. The ring was my heart and the seat of my power, a place of bloody darkness, a pretty jewel.

The man nearest me stirred, suddenly uneasy. I looked away from the stone and covered it with my other hand, but still he shook his head as if remembering things he'd rather forget. He threw a coin on the counter as he slid off his stool and left. I waved a hand to Anna Louise, and the girl brought me another stein. I accepted it with a smile and a nod.

So, here was Anna Louise, seventeen and plain but pleasant, when Big Jim O'Dade walked into the bar. Now, Jim, he was tall, and he was handsome. He had black hair and blue eyes and a smile like lightning. He saw Anna Louise behind the bar, and Jim went to her for a drink. He flashed his smile, and the power flickered out like a storm on the horizon.

I saw Anna Louise catch her breath, as if she'd just woken from a dream. Her cheeks took on color, and her eyes took on shine. She poured him the shot of whiskey he asked for and set it out before him. I waited for Big Jim to see her, to realize what a treasure he'd found; but Jim was used to women and their favors. He threw back his drink and paid up quick. Then, he smiled once more at Anna Louise and turned his back to the bar. He leaned back on his elbows and surveyed the room while Anna Louise stared at the way his shirt strained across his shoulders. Her breathing was quick and light.

I saw Sam start to get up; and then he sat down again, as if he just didn't care anymore. He knew Big Jim and knew Jim was no kind of a man for his daughter. But Sam had died when his wife died. What was left of him wasn't enough to protect Anna Louise from her folly. I started to leave her alone, as Sam did; but I remembered what I owed, though Anna Louise didn't know of the debt. Tonight, for a moment, I'd speak as her father.

I waved my empty stein at the girl, as soon as I thought she could see me. She came quickly enough. She was Sam's daughter after all, and knew to keep the glasses filled.

"Another round, girl," I said, and I caught her hand for a moment. Anna Louise had known me from her cradle-time, and she allowed me the liberty then. "Don't give your heart to Big Jim," I warned her. "He already owns more than he can count."

Anna Louise tossed her head and frowned at me and pulled her hand away. She sat the fresh stein down without spilling a drop.

"Says you, Nate Lee. What do you know about love, anyway? I never see you with a woman. Nor with a man either, as yet. You live wild as a cat and just come here to feed and lick your fur, and then you go your way. Who are you to judge? And how do you know his name?"

"I know more about love than you'll learn in your lifetime," I said, remembering the woman who was dust. The old pain was still there; the ruby still sparkled, like an ember that burned my hand. I set memories aside and continued. "And I've seen Big Jim's kind before. Whatever you give him, he'll take it for granted. He'll think it's only his due. As for his name, I shipped with his daddy, Big Jack O'Dade, a man from too many places to count."

Anna Louise slapped her rag on the bar and tossed her head again. "Oh, you! You aren't that old, for all your talk and crazy tales. You look younger than my father."

It struck me then that I'd made a mistake; I'd forgotten to age as time went by. So I kept silent and let the impertinence slide by. No one pays attention to what can't be true. It disappears like a sound unheard, if you just let the silence remain. Anna Louise left me and went along the bar to Big Jim. She walked with a sway to her hips and a lift to her breasts, this girl so suddenly woman. Again, I touched the red jewel I wore on my finger and sipped my beer as I watched.

Sam got up from his table and left without looking again at his daughter. He went through the door in the back that led to his rooms up above. He'd lived there with his wife for a time and, then, with Anna Louise. After tonight, I thought, he'd be living there alone.

Anna Louise was all smiles and sighs for Big Jim. She filled his glass a dozen times that night, whether he asked for it or no, and never charged him a cent. Jim threw it back, and his smile got broader, until I had to squint to look at him. I saw what was happening and didn't like it at all. I'd watched Anna Louise grow up and wanted better for her; but no one can unmake a young girl's first choice, once she gives her heart. I could only watch and hope the fall would be short and the landing soft. Come closing time, there was only Anna Louise, Big Jim, and me in the place. They didn't see me. I was at Sam's table by then, with the shadows wrapped close around me, and Anna Louise never looked at my face.

Anna Louise shut the cash drawer with a bang, without even counting the take. She came around the bar to where Big Jim swayed, and stood close to him and clung. Now, Jim was drunk but not dead, not yet. He noticed little Anna Louise at last as she sparkled and twinkled and murmured. He put his arm around her, and they left the bar together.

*****

I shipped out about then and was gone for a year to a place too dark to remember, a land where even demons fear to tread. I came home with my spirit a rag and took refuge in Sam Rosen's bar. But Sam, he was dead, and his daughter was gone; gone was her soft little face. It was Big Jim I saw there every night, behind not in front, of the bar.

"Jim, what's put you back there instead of out here? You should be out front with the boys."

I drank deep, as if ale could fill me and undo the damage I felt. Big Jim scowled and glanced around, but there was only him and me in the place.

"A wife's put me here. Sam Rosen's daughter. You remember her—little Anna Louise."

"Sure, I do," I said. "A fine little gal, sweet as a woman can be."

Jim laughed then, all bitter, and poured me another. With his rag, he polished the bar. "Sweet she looks and sweet she was," he confided, "but marriage has made the girl sour. Anna Louise is a nag and a harpy, and I regret to know it too well." Jim sighed and ran his hand through his hair. It was still black but dull and limp. His blue eyes looked troubled, and the storm of his smile was over. "I got tired of traveling without ever knowing where I'd land. I'd seen too many places that were too nearly my grave. I wanted a harbor, a place to tie up. Anna Louise was sweet, and she loved me, and her daddy owned this bar. It seemed like a good port to me, a safe, snug place."

"And you, Jim, you never loved the girl?"

He paused. He was honest, if not very happy. I could almost pity him then.

"I liked her well enough. It seemed that would do. But now I feel like a man in a prison. Sam died a month after the wedding. His heart just up and quit. So, here I am every night while other men drink and go free. Then, if I take time to visit with friends, she complains and wails all day."

"What of Anna Louise? Why doesn't she come here to help you? It would make the work lighter and the nights more pleasing."

"The day we wed, she vowed never to set foot in the bar again. I think that broke her father's heart. She wants to stay at home like a lady; and when I'm not here working, she wants me there with her. I tell you, Nate Lee, I have no life of my own."

So, it seemed they'd overreached themselves in reaching for too much. Big Jim was safe and snug in his prison, and Anna Louise held her lover as if she were his jailer. I touched the ring on my finger with its stone like frozen cruelty. There was a frantic glitter caught inside it, a screaming silence that hurt to hear. I looked away and refused to listen.

Jim saw the jewel and shuddered.

"I dream about that color," he whispered. "I dream I'm in a place with light as red as that ruby, and I'm trapped between walls of crystal. It's a prison I can never escape. Then, I wake up sweating and cursing my little wife's name."

"A nasty dream," I said, drawn once more to the glow. The facets shimmered and flickered like empty halls in a blood-red palace.

I remembered the first Anna Louise—that wasn't her name, but the sounds were something alike. She was the lady of spring flowers, the garden of delights. I'd never seen a woman before her. I'd never loved one since. It was for her sake I kept my promise and watched over her daughters, her many, many daughters; the last of them, this Anna Louise. I'd made the mistake of loving a mortal and paid for it long and long since.

On the day of the market, I saw Anna Louise again. Her plain face was drawn, and she moved like a woman impatient with the crowd. She shopped with a basket over her arm and bargained hard for her goods. When lunch time came, she stopped to eat at a little place with tables close together. I took the table next to hers.

"Good day to you, Anna Louise," I said. "I hear your life is much changed."

"Nate Lee! You're back! I heard you were dead, out in the far beyond."

"Not me, child. I'll never die. I swear it."

She smiled at me then, and she looked like the old Anna Louise. She ordered tea for the two of us, and seemed pleased enough to see me.

"Tell me about your journey," she invited. "Tell me where you went and what you did and how you come to be here again."

So, I told her about places where men murdered men, about dark and bloody lands. I told her about priest-kings and slave pens and the harbors in between. Her eyes got round, and her face grew soft. She forgot to drink her tea.

"Now, I'm back to find Sam dead and Big Jim in his place."

Anna Louise frowned and stared into her cup.

"I married him in haste."

"And now, you've had time to regret."

"No, you misunderstand, Nate Lee. I still love Jim, I always will; but he's away so much. He works at the bar, and then goes out with his friends while I sit by myself at home."

"Then go there. Be with him. It's your father's bar."

"And go the way my mother went, on drugs and drink and all those night-time pleasures? Not me, Nate Lee. I want to live to be old. If only he could love me! If only he was happy to be with me and would come home after he's done his night's work. But I don't see Jim from one day to the next."

"Is this all you want, just to have Jim love you, your heart's desire for time and eternity?"

"Yes, it is."

I sighed. "Then, so be it."

Anna Louise laughed and patted my arm with her hand. "Don't talk like a fool, Nate Lee. If I can't make Jim love me, there's nothing you can do."

"Let me tell you a story," I said softly, "that happened a very long time ago. This happened when men hunted great beasts with wood and stone. It happened when the world was new, and women wandered far in search of food and shelter."

I paused and remembered again that time so fresh and clean. I could create her again, that first Anna Louise, flesh-for-flesh, if I chose. But she'd be my creation, not herself. The woman I loved was gone to the place where I could not follow.

"One day, one of the women found a godling, newly come to power. Or maybe he was a demon—that's what some might call him, though he was neither good nor evil. Now, the woman was beautiful and strong and brave, but exceedingly unwise."

"Unwise?"

"She'd entered into a place better left untouched, and won the godling's heart. She was his first and only love. He offered her whatever she desired, if only she would be with him."

Oh, sweet Laheese, lady of bountiful pleasure. Your daughters are no match for you, beloved for all my life. my long, unending life.

"And when she died, she asked for nothing for herself. She asked only that her daughter and her daughter's daughters receive their heart's desire for so long as her line continued."

"That sounds wise to me," Anna Louise said, nodding.

"Ah, but mortals weren't meant to have such power. (Not that the godling knew.) They gain it to their undoing. Her daughters have destroyed themselves, one by one, each dying for the desire of her heart."

"A sad tale," she said, and her little hand covered my ruby as her fingers curled around mine. She shuddered, as if cold, but she never noticed the red glow shining through her skin.

"A true tale," I told her, full of my old, old, grief.

"Oh, come now."

So, I saw it was time. The curse had come full circle. I shut the two of us away from the little cafe, from the world of Anna Louise. I set aside masks and deceptions and revealed myself to her. I showed her what I was and what I am, and I waited for her fear. But she was a brave girl, this Anna Louise, almost as brave as my one love. She turned pale and swayed in her chair. Her eyes went wide, then closed. I willed her to open them, to look at me fully and know me. I waited until just before madness, when I was sure she'd seen all she could hold. Then, I dropped the veil of time back over us.

"Oh!" she said. "You . . . . Oh, Nate Lee, I just had the most terrible dream."

"It was no dream, girl. Now, tell me true, is it Jim's love you want? I'll ask you only once. Is that your heart's desire?"

She swallowed hard and nodded her head.

"Yes. Nate Lee, I tell you true. Jim's love is my heart's desire."

So, it came to be that Big Jim O'Dade loved his wife, little Anna Louise, Sam Rosen's daughter, far-daughter of sweet Laheese. He was the talk of the town, how he smiled all night at his work and hurried home at dawn to his lady. Only I saw that his smile was like the echo of his wife's voice bouncing back from the wall of an empty cave. Soon, Anna Louise was big with a girl child; the cycle was beginning again.

As for me, I spent a lot of time in the bar, drinking alone and watching the light shine on my ruby. When I stared hard at the heart of the stone, into blood-red halls of crystal, I saw something dark flicker and writhe there, like a once-free soul imprisoned. The thing in the ruby ran like a man trapped in a blood-red maze, and he cursed sweet Anna Louise with hate unending.

# The End

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*****

# The Shaman's Lover

"The tale of my curse begins long ago and far away, as all such tales do begin," I murmured, soft voiced in the quiet hour of the evening. I looked out to where the full moon hovered in a turquoise sky, and lights twinkled on the boats in the bay. Brilliant sparks rose up from the spaceport in the distance, shooting stars born of earth and flung out to the heavens. It was an evening for dreams, for tales of love and loss, and I had a story to tell.

Just then I appeared as a tall, fair man with ice-blue eyes, a common enough type in that place. The other three at the table with me settled back in their sturdy chairs and held their tankards close. We were waiting for our supper after spending the day on the water. Our table sat on a terrace that hovered above the shore. The dusky light painted us gold, and the offshore breeze blew cool across our sunburned skins. For just that moment, we were beautiful. I breathed deeply, inhaling wind that smelled of saltwater and seaweed.

"Get on with it, Nate Lee," old Razor urged, wiping foam off her chin. She was the best cargo master in the port, as she'd been for thirty years. Razor brooked no delay from anyone, not even me.

"Yes," the one-eyed man next to Razor said as he scratched at his stomach under his shirt. "You're buying, so we'll listen, but not for any longer than the ale holds out."

Scanlon, sitting on One-eye's other side, laughed, and all three drained their tankards and banged them down. I smiled too and dropped a stack of coins on the table.

"Here, lass," I called to the barmaid. "Keep their tankards filled. The moon is full and that puts me in a mind to talk tonight. Pour with a generous hand."

So the barmaid, young and pretty, with long red hair worn in a braid down her back, brought four fresh tankards, two in each hand, and set them down on our table. She let old Razor pinch her bottom, but she slipped away as the men reached for her. Then, she went back through the French doors to the bar to flirt with a woman who strutted in a dockhand's quilted coveralls and heavy boots. That pinch earned Razor a glare from the barmaid's lover; but she ignored it. Razor had an old woman's face, but the ropes of scar tissue on her forearms gave warning to any who thought her easy game. When the girl had gone, my listeners drank deep and waited for me to continue. As for me, I'd downed not a drop.

"So," Scanlon said, running a hand over his smooth-shaven skull, "are you cursed not to drink any ale?"

"Nothing so easy," I replied. "Listen, my friends, and I'll tell you the whole of the tale." And so I began to speak in a measured, beguiling voice that made the listener forget everything but the words that flowed from my lips. I made a broad gesture with my right hand, but the ruby of my ring was turned to my palm so they could not see it. Razor looked a little uneasy as she felt the stone pass by her, but she only licked her lips and said nothing, so I went on.

"Once upon a warm spring day, while shaggy herds of mammoth roamed the grasslands in the distance, a woman lay naked on a hillside amid a bounty of flowers, and she dreamed of power."

"She was naked?" Razor asked, her grin showing more gaps than teeth. All three of them leaned forward.

"Oh, yes. Naked and beautiful, but she wasn't waiting for a man—nor a woman. She had other plans in mind that day. Laheese was very young then. Her first flow of blood had come only the year before. The scar on her left cheek that marked her as a grown woman had barely had time to heal.

"With her fingers, she touched that scar as she lay on her back on the grass, tracing the symbol of the Mammoth carved into her flesh, the symbol that joined her forever with the spirit that sustained her people. She scowled as she traced the mark. There should be two scars, one for the Mammoth and another for the Great Mother who ruled the spirit world. She should wear the shaman's mark as well as the mammoth mark of her clan. She could Journey. She sent her spirit out every time old Da-sing beat the drum in that rapid monotonous beat that guided the traveler in far realms. She brought back dreams and visions, more than either of the other apprentices, but Da-sing gave her no honor.

"'You are too proud, girl,' the old woman had said, peering out at her from behind the fringe of small bones that hung over her wrinkled face. 'You think yourself too much the warrior in the spirit world, small though you are in the flesh. You must learn respect!'

"Respect, Laheese thought with contempt, why should I respect you, old bag of bones! The babies may howl with hunger, but you eat well. You sit on soft firs at the right hand of the Mammoth Chief while weary hunters stand to show you respect. You take any young man you please to your bed whether he wants you or not. Your vow was to help the Mammoth Clan, but you help only yourself. Then the old woman had looked sharply at her, and Laheese had wondered if the shaman had heard her thoughts.

"And I, who did not yet know her," I told them as the darkness gathered around us and the moon grew brighter in the night, "who did not yet know myself, I was aware of her even then. Her will was a flame in the darkness of my unknowing. I felt her questing even before it began. She was a small woman, but her desires sent ripples through the world of spirit as they soon would send ripples through the world of mortals.

"But that day she only dreamed as she reclined on soft grass in warm sunlight. The scent of flowers was all around her, rich enough to taste. She moved a bit to ease a stone out from under her shoulder, then lay on her back with her hands crossed over her chest, just below the firm mounds of her newly budded breasts. Beside her, she could smell the animal scent of her hide tunic and leggings. She'd stripped them off so there'd be no barrier between her and the earth. She listened to the small birds singing, to the click and buzz of the insects, to the rustling of the leaves, until their steady rhythm told her she was alone. She slowed her breathing until it was deep and deliberate. She willed her muscles to relax. When all was quiet in her body, she imagined the rapid beat of the shaman's drum signaling her spirit to begin the Journey.

"'Always call the guardians before embarking on a Journey,' Da-sing had instructed her pupils as they sat around the fire, breathing the scent of herbed smoke. 'There are many powers in the spirit world, and not all of them are friendly. Be sure you ask the guardians for protection before you begin your Journey, and be sure you thank them when you return.'

"But Laheese was too impatient to delay for such ceremonies, too sure of herself for caution. Guardians were well enough for the old woman, but she was young and strong. She didn't need their protection. She called the drumming firmly to mind and sent her spirit out to seek power. She wanted power of her own, power enough to take Da-sing's fur cap with its fringe of bone and set it on her own head.

"Soon, she found her spirit self on a dirt path, high in the hills. Around her, scrub brush and twisted pine braced against spills of gravel. Silence surrounded her like a whisper about to be spoken. She shivered as a cool, damp breeze played through her hair. Then, lightly, dancing, retaining her human form, she ran down the path as gracefully as a stream running over rounded stones. The ground was firm and dusty under her bare feet. Her young breasts bounced lightly as she ran, and her long black hair flew behind her. By the quality of the light, she realized that she was in the underworld. The space above was a silvery radiance like the sky on a cloudy day, only brighter. But that was no sky above her; it was the bottom side of the earth. This was the realm of hidden things, of things forgotten, of things yet unborn. This, she thought, was a good place to begin her quest.

"She planned to ask one of the spirit beings to enter her heart and come back with her to the mortal world to help her overthrow Da-sing. There would be no more feasting for the shaman while babies went hungry, she vowed. She would be shaman, and she would guard the tribe, not use the Mammoth Clan as her servants.

"As for me, I watched her as she ran. I was a swirl of dreams, and she ran through me as through a cloud of mist. I was a pattern of darkness, and she broke through me as mortal breaks through shadow.

"When she paused at a turning in the path, I was there, waiting for her in the form of an enormous wolf, powerful and sure. It was a form called up out of the girl's own desires. My pelt was dense black, streaked with gray. My eyes glowed with eerie, ice-blue light. My muzzle reached as high as her head, but she looked me in the eye, unafraid. I wore a gold chain around my neck, and on that chain hung a pendant, a great blood-red ruby that sparkled with the scarlet light of my inhuman heart. I saw her glance once at that jewel and then quickly look away.

"'Are you Wolf?' she asked, 'or are you just something in wolf form?'

"Because, you see," I explained to my listeners, now rapt, abet uneasy. "Each kind of creature has an essence. In the spirit world there is one creature that represents the soul of all its kind. And there are other things, too; creatures with no part in the mortal world. There are demons; there are gods as yet unformed. So, sweet Laheese asked me, 'Are you Wolf?' And it amused me that she should ask, I who could create and uncreate, who could move matter like wind swirling fallen leaves.

"And I thought to myself, in my pride, that I could eat her up, swallow down her spirit. She'd come alone, with no protector. With a snap of my jaws, I could sever the silver cord that bound her to her body. But I didn't; not then, not ever. I was the one caught, although I didn't know it then. There was no escape from my love, my Laheese. But at that time I was ignorant, innocent, unwise—even a god can be unwise—and I answered her question with a question.

"'What does it matter to you?' I replied, licking my chops.

"'It matters a great deal,' Laheese said coolly. Even if she'd known her danger, I swear she'd have shown the same courage. 'I'm looking for a powerful totem animal. But if you're just some wandering spirit, you're no use to me.'

"I laughed at her with my tongue lolling red between white, white teeth. I could give her the world if only she'd ask for it.

"'Do I look so useless, then?'

"She looked hard at me, weighed me up and found me wanting. Remember, she was hardly more than a child. 'You aren't Wolf,' she determined at last. And she turned away from me.

"'Wait! I can do more for you than Wolf,' I cried, but she wouldn't listen.

"'Go away, false-Wolf. I haven't got time for your boasting. I'm going down to the plain to ask Mammoth if she'll go back with me.'

"'What can that shaggy grass-eater do for you that I can't?' I demanded, breathing deeply to draw in the scent of her, wanting to touch her, to taste her.

"'Mammoth sends her herd to give my people everything,' she replied. 'We make our homes from the bones and tusks of the animals. We feast on the bounty of their flesh. The great Mammoth is the guardian of my clan.'

"'I can do all that, and more.'

"'So, you say; but I don't believe you.'

"Abruptly, she turned away and ran rapidly down the mountain side, much faster than she could have run in the mortal realm. I suddenly felt as if I were somehow not so sharp nor so strong when she was gone. I howled in confusion."

I paused in my story and, for the first time, I took a sip of my own ale. My voice had grown hoarse from speaking. Remembering Laheese was a sweet pleasure and an old pain. I needed a moment's respite before I forced myself to remember more.

"Me, I don't see how you call this a curse," Scanlon said, his skull lit by the gleam of light from the bar behind him. "So far, all you've done is look at a naked girl. Now, if you don't get any closer, maybe that's a curse . . . ."

But I looked at him, and his voice trailed into silence.

"I have a purpose to my story tonight," I said, deliberately not seeing how Scanlon had gone pale, his skin speckled with a sudden mist of cold sweat. I didn't want to see the others looking at him, nor at me. I just wanted to tell my tale and be gone, so I continued.

"Laheese ignored my pain. She never glanced back. She ran toward the mammoth who gathered in great herds on the plain below her. There they grazed by the millions. Their long, curling, coarse, red-brown hair moved in the breeze of the plain. Their tusks gleamed perfect ivory in great arcs of light and strength. Their powerful trunks pulled up clumps of rich green grasses and brought them to their huge mouths with a regular, unending movement. To see the herd move was to watch a range of mountains on the march. They ate and moved on, ate and moved on, in ponderous power. There was neither night nor day in that spirit world, and their existence was an unending, peaceful sameness.

Laheese ran toward them so fast the mountain blurred beneath her, until at last, she strolled among the great beasts with their shaggy red hair and their tusks longer than she was tall. They smelled of clover and animal musk. The air around her warmed with the heat of their bodies. She wandered among them, unafraid even though the smallest calf was larger than she. After all, she was of the Mammoth Clan, with Mammoth's sign cut into her cheek. She belonged here as surely as any of these shaggy beasts. The mammoth spirits knew her and their leader, a wise old cow half a head taller than the rest, spoke to the wandering human spirit.

"'What are you doing here child?' Mammoth asked, for this was Mammoth who led them, the sum and the essence of these great creatures. 'This is no safe place for one as tender as you. Go back to your body and grow up before you come here again.'

"'I'm old enough to be here,' Laheese replied, for she still had no idea of her danger. 'I'll return home when I'm ready.'

"'If you ignore my advice, you may not return at all. You wouldn't be the first would-be shaman to come to grief on your Journey. There are more things here than simple spirits such as you and I,' Mammoth warned her. Her dark eyes looked down on the girl with disfavor. No calf of hers would show such disrespect.

"'I don't come for myself,' Laheese explained. Her voice was soft, but the force of her meaning was clear. 'Our shaman has grown old and greedy. She doesn't care for us any more. Our village is starving. I just want to find a totem animal to come back and help me.'

"'Help you do what, child?'

"'Help me defeat her,' Laheese replied firmly. 'Then I will be shaman. I'll lead the hunters to willing prey and see that all are fed.'

''Mammoth regarded her closely. She put out her trunk to sniff the impudent girl, to divine her spirit by its scent. Laheese stood quietly while the delicate tip of Mammoth's trunk touched her, sending alternately cool and warm puffs of air against her skin as Mammoth inhaled and exhaled. She did not tremble, nor did she cry, nor try to plead her case. This creature was the guardian of her clan, the most powerful spirit she knew. Laheese opened her heart and waited for Mammoth's verdict.

"And I watched them both from where I lay concealed among the thick grasses of the great pasture. I yearned for Laheese. I felt a hunger for her that made me want to bite her tender skin until the blood flowed hot and salty. Yes, even in the spirit world I could have bitten a lethal bite. I felt a yearning that made me want to wriggle inside her soul and know her deepest desires."

"You were confused," One-Eye said with a grin

Razor shook her head. "Sounds like love to me." She looked around the table and then beckoned to the barmaid to bring more ale. "Never get mixed up with love." She grinned at the girl as she came over, and then Razor ran a hand through the curly gray strands of her hair. The woman was old and scarred but still vain. "Stick with sex. Then you'll know where you are."

The barmaid smiled back at Razor. Once again, Razor's hand strayed to the girl's bottom; although in a caress this time, not a pinch. I saw the dockhand start toward us, but the barmaid quickly gathered her tray and intercepted her lover.

"Well," I asked them, "do you want to hear my story or not?"

"Yeah, sure," One-eye replied.

Scanlon shrugged. "Why not? We've got nothing better to do."

Razor was watching the barmaid, but she nodded her head. So, once again, I took up my tale.

"'Something's there,' Mammoth told Laheese. 'There's something in the grass.'

"Mammoth was looking in my direction, to where I lay hidden and watching. But the grass was tall, and I hunkered well down out of sight. Laheese glanced over, then turned back to Mammoth.

"'Will you come with me?' the girl demanded. Her pretty face bore a determined expression, as if she intended to carry the huge old cow back to the mortal realm with her whether Mammoth willed it or not. 'I need your help. My clan needs you.'

"'Silence, child.' Mammoth rocked back and forth on her great legs. The rest of the herd caught wind of her distress. Small brown eyes peered from behind masses of shaggy red hair, trying to locate the source of Mammoth's unease. Suddenly, Mammoth's head swung back to Laheese.

"'Go home, and go quickly.'

"'No. I need—'

"'Go!'

"With a swing of her great trunk, Mammoth swept through the girl's spirit body. The silver cord that bound her to the mortal realm twanged. Wailing, Laheese was dragged back to herself, dreaming on the hillside. She faded fast from my sight. With the edge of my senses, I felt her wake with a jolt that left her breathless.

"But now, Mammoth was coming toward me. Her ears stood out from her head, and her trunk stuck out straight in front of her. The ground shook with her every step. Drops of liquid began to run from near her eyes and mat the hair on her face. She let out a bellow of rage and warning, oddly high pitched for her size. She charged toward me, but I held my place in the grass.

"'Come out of there!' she ordered when she reached me. 'Come out skulker! How dare you come near my herd!'

"I came slinking out from among the long blades, my nose full of the rich green smell of the grass and the stink of Mammoth's musk. Like a shadow, I emerged with deliberate menace. She glimpsed the ruby glinting red against my black pelt and quickly raised her eyes to mine. But I met her gaze with eyes like blue fire. Uneasy now, she backed away.

"'You're not Wolf!' she cried, trumpeting in alarm.

"'So that girl child said,' I replied with my tongue lolling over my teeth.

"Mammoth backed away another step. Behind her, the herd milled in alarm. One snap of my jaws, and they would run in blind panic. But the old cow recovered her courage quickly enough. She was brave, or maybe she'd just been worshipped for too long.

"'Get away from my herd!'

"I drew my tongue in and licked my chops. 'I do as I please,' I growled. 'And it pleases me to lie here regarding your herd.'

"'Go!' she ordered, just as she'd ordered Laheese. And she swung her trunk at me.

"But I was no human child wandering in the spirit world. My teeth slashed her. Then there was blood on her trunk and a look of shock on her face."

I looked around the table at my listeners. The sun had finally set. The evening breeze blew cool across my face and ruffled Razor's hair. No one spoke.

"It was the sort of look you'd get if you suddenly slapped a wealthy dowager and broke her lip," I continued. "The herd began milling and trumpeted in consternation.

"I was angry now. Mammoth had cost me Laheese. It wouldn't be easy to find the girl in the mortal realm. I stalked toward the cow, growling.

"'Look at me,' I commanded her. 'Look at me and see me as I truly am.'

"And Mammoth looked. She had no choice. She was only the essence of a beast but I, I was much, much more. She saw me, and she trembled. Her ears went flat to her head, and her bloody trunk curled downward, as if she were trying to hide it under her body. The great cow bent her head. Her knees shook as if she would fall.

"'Forgive me,' she whispered. 'And spare my herd, I beg you.'

"But I had no mercy. I knew nothing of love then, so how could I know mercy? I stepped toward the cow until my front paws were on her front legs. The ruby dangling on its golden chain touched her. She shuddered. In silence she suffered. With the power that is mine, I drew her in. The herd was suddenly still. Mammoth fell to her knees and then onto her side. I rode her down, with the ruby still against her hide.

"The weight of the stone around my neck grew heavy with the weight of Mammoth's soul. I drank her, great beast that she was, until only a husk remained. And then the husk collapsed with a dry crackling and drifted into dust that blew away on the wind. Mammoth was no more. On the plain, the herd wandered aimlessly. Their essence was gone. In time, they too would fade."

With a sudden clatter, our supper arrived, four plates of bread and meat and some sort of limp looking vegetables. It stank like last week's leavings, but I hid my distaste. I knew the others were hungry. It was full dark now, as the barmaid served us, slamming the food down carelessly in front of the men. But she fussed over Razor, setting her plate down neatly and making sure her knife and fork were just so.

"So, what about the girl?" One-eye asked. His scars were hidden by the shadows, and he was beautiful again. "You started with a story about a naked girl, but there wasn't any sex, just a lot of talking animals. What happened to this Laheese?"

I toyed with my food a bit. I couldn't bear to eat it, not with the taste of Mammoth's blood still fresh in my memory. But I had to go on with the tale before I could be finished with this place.

"It took me a long while to find her," I told them. "I had no easy route to the mortal realm, no worshipers, no priests, no acolytes; not then, anyway. But I could see the dreams that mortals dreamed, and I searched for the girl among them. I found her in her village.

"Time had passed, a handful of years. Laheese had grown from girl to woman, and her beauty had grown with her. Her face was still fine-boned but stronger now, even behind the veil of hunger and care. Her legs were long and well muscled, but her every rib stood out plainly under her skin. She would have seemed scruffy by modern tastes in her worn, hide dress, too thin, too small, and far too dirty. But she was _my_ heart's desire.

"She sat before the house that had been her mother's home before her mother had died, starving to death like most of the other old women. She sat with her children clinging to her, a boy of three or so and a girl, still nursing at her breast. Both were too young to even have true names yet. She called them baby names: Sweet One and Little Love. Like all the villagers, the three of them were thin, listless from hunger, tired from the endless search for food. Like a stray thought, I drifted through the village, bodiless, curious, prowling.

"I passed through the clan's collection of huts made of mammoth bones. Skulls formed the base of each house, and leg bones and ribs were cunningly worked together and bound with sinew to form walls and roofs. The girl had told me truly; they depended upon the mammoth for their lives. Yet, Mammoth was no more, and soon there would be no more of her kind in the mortal realm. But that was no concern of mine. I wanted only Laheese, that slender, dark-eyed beauty. Something about the grace of her strength and the power of her desire had reached me as nothing else had. I yearned to possess her. I think, in some way, I almost yearned to be her. I had no mortal body, no way to go to her; but I let my awareness drift around and into the girl so that I knew her every thought. She shivered as I entered her heart, and I knew she remembered me.

"Laheese was hungry, and she was angry. The hunters had been gone two hands-full of days, with no sign of their return. This was the season when the great herds migrated through the hunting territory of the clan. Or at least they once had done so. But the herds had dwindled; mammoth were scarce and wary. The villagers ate the food the women and the old people could gather from the forest and grasslands. They had foraged all the edible roots, berries, and plants growing nearby. They were reduced to chewing bits of hide, to boiling lengths of the sinew that had been used to bind together the bones of their houses, making a kind of tasteless soup from them. Her children were listless, lolling against her, too weak to play.

"My beloved's eyes narrowed to slits as Da-sing walked by. The shaman's ribs were well covered with meat; she wasn't starving. Da-sing ate in her house, not with the others. Laheese could smell the food when she entered for her training. Yes, she was still an apprentice. The others who'd begun with her had passed through the initiation rites and gone out into the world, to other clans in other lands. But Da-sing feared Laheese, feared her more and more. She would never pass her through that final gate that would make the girl her equal.

"There was a shout in the distance, a man's voice. Then more men called out, and those remaining in the village shuffled to their feet, sudden interest on their dull faces, sudden sharp reminders of hunger in their bellies. A group of men entered the village, carrying a doe slung from a pole on their shoulders. It took four men to carry the carcass, but they were used to mammoth. This was a light burden. There was an excited milling about. The old women—the few who yet survived—hurried to prepare the firepit.

"With a cry of joy, Laheese ran forward and embraced one of the hunters, a handsome young fellow. He was about her own age and although only a little taller than she, his body was ridged with muscles that coiled and danced with power when he moved. I knew from reading her heart that this was Rold, the father of her children. Still holding the baby, she threw her arms around him and kissed his mouth. He returned her kiss less than eagerly, and after a moment, he pulled away from her, his eyes searching over the others.

"It was well then that I was bodiless. I felt jealousy for the first time when I watched her run to him, watched my beloved embrace the man. And I felt anger when I saw how little that embrace meant to him. Meanwhile, their son watched listlessly from the doorway where he leaned against the wall, too weak to rise.

"The young hunter looked beyond Laheese to where Da-sing had emerged from her house. Her breasts and belly sagged and so did the skin on her arms, but she strutted forth proudly, having donned all her finery as the men were entering the village. She wore all her beads of bone and stone and her short cape woven of mammoth hair. The Shaman's cap sat firmly upon her head, and more bone beads dangled from it. She'd painted her face and body with red and yellow ochre and black charcoal so that she looked like some fantastic beast of the dream world.

"'Well done, brave hunters,' she said, with a special glance for the young man Laheese favored. 'Your village is grateful.'

The clan chief came forward then, limping. Hunting mammoth was dangerous work, and he was covered with scars, his bones broken and healed again crookedly. Still, he was strong, and he was chief. Scowling, he limped to Da-sing and stood between her and the young hunter.

"'You dreamed of mammoth, shaman, but all we found was a small herd of deer; and all but this doe escaped us.'

"The shaman glared at him, her chin coming up proudly. She shook her head, and all her beads rattled, reminding them who wore the cap of power.

"'I saw a great herd of mammoth on my Journey. As it is in spirit, so it is in this world. I saw a sea of beasts, more than enough for our village,' Da-sing said, frowning. And I knew she lied because the great herd of the spirit world was no more. I had slaughtered Mammoth and scattered her children. But Da-sing had a firm grip on power, if not on truth, and she went on. 'If you chose to bring back deer instead of mammoth, it's no doing of mine. And if it was not your choice, then you must have failed to perform the ceremonies correctly.'

"'There were no mammoth, old woman,' the chief insisted, leaning heavily on his spear. He grimaced as he spoke, partly in anger and partly in pain. More than his old scars were hurting him. His right leg was not only twisted from an old break, it seemed swollen. Had he injured it on the hunt? 'You may see mammoth on your Journeys, but we hunters have not seen any of the great ones for two seasons now.'

"The others in the village stirred restlessly. They were hungry, and there was food to prepare. They didn't want to hear about spirits and hunts. They wanted to eat. Both Da-sing and the Mammoth Chief knew their people well enough to realize that this was neither the time nor the place to continue their accusations. Each gave the other a hard look, will against will, and chose to continue the ceremony of homecoming.

"The chief and his two best hunters—Rold was one of them—drew out flint knives and began to butcher the doe. They hacked at the meat with their blades, which were nothing like the finely pressure-flaked points they made for their spears, but this task required only crude choppers and strong arms. They worked among the reek of congealed blood and a cloud of flies, but they were well practiced at this art. Their modest kill would be enough for only one meal for the village, provided they shared the meat evenly. But it was soon apparent that even shares were not what Da-sing and the chief had in mind.

"They'd bled and gutted the kill before they brought it to the village, but now the men skinned the deer, and then cut the carcass apart. They sat the meat out in chunks on a bed of fresh leaves that the women had laid out. The hide they set aside to tan and prepare for clothing; it was too thin to use for anything else. They'd make tools from the bones and rattles from the hooves. No part of the kill would be wasted.

"Like the other villagers, Laheese licked her lips and watched the hunters as they worked. Her baby girl whined, and she stuffed her nipple in the child's mouth; but Laheese was so thin and had been hungry for so long that she had almost no milk. Fretfully, the child spat out the nipple and continued to cry. As the village watched, the chief divided the meat into piles. One large chunk he set aside for himself. Another pile was food for the hunters. Laheese considered that fitting for without the hunters and the chief to lead them, the whole village would starve. But she made a choking sound when the chief offered nearly an entire hind quarter to Da-sing.

"'For the honor of the spirits,' the chief said, holding out the haunch of venison.

"'For the honor of the spirits,' Da-sing responded, reaching for it.

"'No!'

"Everyone looked at Laheese. She stood before them, clutching her daughter, who wailed all the louder. "'Our children are starving,' she said, shouting over the baby's noise. 'Look, my baby cries for hunger. They need the meat far more than this fat old woman!'

"'Silence,' Rold growled. 'You dishonor us all!'

"He jerked her arm roughly, shaking her. My own thought was that Rold was less concerned about the dishonor to the village than the dishonor to himself. He seemed even then to be a man with a very large opinion of his own importance in the world. He was not worthy of my beloved. But Laheese turned to him, and I saw inside her, saw how her heart was torn. She truly loved the arrogant young hunter.

"'Look at our daughter, Rold,' she urged him, looking down at her crying baby. Her voice broke. She looked over to her house of mammoth bones. 'Look at our son. Look how weak he is. How can he grow up to be a fine hunter if he doesn't get enough to eat?'

"The chief spoke then, impatiently. 'You're mad to endanger our whole village for the sake of your children. The spirits are already angry with us. Mammoth hides when we hunt. If you take away their sacrifice, soon even the deer will avoid us.'

"Laheese pointed with her chin at the shaman. 'Feeding that fat old woman doesn't please the spirits. It pleases only Da-sing.'

"'Enough!' said the chief.

"Once again, he started to hand the haunch of venison to Da-sing. But Laheese twisted loose from Rold and ran in front of him and took hold of it with her free hand. Her other hand still cradled her crying daughter.

"'No!'

"'Let go, woman!' the chief said, trying to pull it away. But Laheese wouldn't let go, and she wouldn't give up. The other villagers talked excitedly, shocked, angry, impatient, and above all, hungry. Only Da-sing held aloof. She knew when to let her enemy ruin herself. Rold reached for Laheese again, trying to loosen her grip. She turned quickly and bit him on the arm. He roared and backhanded her. Laheese spun away from the meat and fell full length in the dust, her daughter still clutched to her. Twisting as she fell, she managed to land on her side so her baby wasn't injured, but she was too stunned to get up.

"She lay sprawled in the dust, holding her crying baby, crying herself, while the chief gave Da-sing the haunch of venison, and the other women of the village took the rest of the meat to cook over the communal fire. Rold went with Da-sing, carrying the booty for the shaman. She would cook it at a special fire built inside her house in a firepit that was also an altar, and then she would eat the meat herself—to please the spirits.

"Laheese watched them go, weeping bitter tears of weakness and rage. The others walked around her, not looking at her. Slowly, she staggered to her feet, clinging to the wall of the nearest house to pull herself upright. She walked over to her mother's house and sat down in front of it. Her son looked at her listlessly. He was too weak to even care that there would be food soon.

"She reached for him and held him against her side to share her warmth. She held a child in either arm and could feed neither of them. Until recently, her breasts had held enough milk to feed the girl, but she knew she could not feed both children from her body, so she'd let her son go hungry. Even now, he reached for the nipple nearest to him, but she pushed him away so the baby could have all the milk.

"'Soon, Sweet One' she whispered, 'we'll have food very soon. Your father has brought us a deer, or at least some small part of one.'

"Not even whining, he crawled away from her to the corner that was his bed. It was agony for her to see how thin and frail he'd become. His ribs stood up in ridges. His belly was distended with the gasses the preceded starvation. She would get food for him as soon as it was ready, even if she had to fight for it, she vowed. She clutched her baby daughter to her and made sure the child drained both breasts.

"Later, when the meat was cooked, no one brought any to her, although she saw everyone else in the village receiving their small share of venison. At last, wearily, she set her daughter down in the nest of mosses that served as the girl's bed. She looked to where her son lay on the other side of the house. His eyes were half closed, and his breathing was shallow.

"She stood, pausing in the doorway to straighten the tunic of antelope hide that hung by one strap from her left shoulder. Then she raised her chin and walked calmly to the communal firepit. There were still a few of the village elders sitting at the fire—two old women and an old man. One of the women was her dead mother's sister, the other was more distantly related. The old man was Rold's father's brother. They watched her without speaking as she approached them.

"Laheese stopped on the far side of the firepit. Waves of heat rolled up from the glowing bed of coals before her. The smell of roast meat made her mouth water so heavily that she had to swallow before she spoke. 'No one has brought me my share of the food,' she began. But they looked away from her, still not speaking, licking their fingers and sucking the marrow from the remaining bones.

"'I want what's mine.'

"One of the old women spoke to the other, 'Did you hear a crow calling?'

"'No,' her mother's sister replied, poking the fire with a stick, 'it's only the noise of the wind blowing through the grasses. Pay it no mind.'

"'My children need food!' Laheese said sharply.

"The old man sucked noisily, drawing the marrow out from a shin bone. The two women stared into the fire. Laheese stepped forward menacingly.

"'I said, my children need food. Give me some!'

"Her mother's sister looked up at her, eyes narrowed. 'Go away, girl. You have no respect for the spirits. You endanger the whole village.'

"'I respect the spirits,' said my beloved, 'no one is more respectful than I—where respect is due. What I don't respect is a shaman who lives like a glutton while her people are starving.'

"'We don't want to hear that kind of talk, especially from one who is so slow to learn as you. You are a grown woman with two children, and still you have not made the passage to full shaman.'

"'That's more of Da-sing's spite. She fears me, fears my power, and so she refuses to grant me my true status and acknowledge me as her equal.'

"'So you say, but I see no shaman in this village save Da-sing herself. There's no food for you here,' the old woman said. 'Better you should starve, you and your children with you.'

"With a growl, Laheese walked straight toward her, stepping through the midst of the fire. She walked on glowing red coals as if they were stones in the river. She didn't look down, and she didn't hurry. The trailing end of her tunic scorched and shriveled, but Laheese neither burned nor blistered. She strode out of the fire on the far side with her skin whole, not even reddened. The elders hissed at her.

"'Give me food for my children!' she demanded, holding out her hand.

"Trembling, the old man offered his marrow bone. The women hastily found scraps of meat that they'd saved for themselves. They gave her all they had, and it was a pitifully small portion.

"'Take it, shaman. We meant you no harm.'

"Laheese closed her hand on it and turned and walked back through the fire, the way she had come. Her back was straight, and her stride was full of dignity as she returned through the red hot coals and on to where her children waited.

"Once inside her house, she let the tears fall. But they were caused by the pain in her heart, not be any burns on her body. She knelt beside her son and slipped some of the softer bites into his mouth. He stirred and chewed a little at first, but then he seemed to give up. He lay in her arms, too weak even to hold the food in his mouth. Most of what she put in spilled out again. She put him down for a moment to take a twig and scrape at the marrow of the bone she'd taken from Rold's father's brother. There was only a mouthful, but it was soft and very rich. Maybe it would give him strength enough to eat more. She turned back to the boy and tenderly lifted his head. She gave a little cry. He wasn't breathing. She put her ear to his chest, listening for the beat of his heart, but it was still. Her son was dead.

"She held him for a long time, rocking his cooling corpse. She held and rocked him while the sun set and the moon rose and waves of guilt and grief rose over her and drowned her in regret. Her face was wet with tears, but she made no sound. She stroked his thin, frail body as if he could still feel her touch.

"And I was near her and in her. I slipped through her sleeping baby girl, and I even wandered the empty corridors of her dead son's body. But the boy was gone to that place that I can never reach."

"Couldn't you bring the kid back to life, Nate Lee?" Razor asked, clearly amusing herself by pretending to believe my tale. "You were supposed to be a god or something. Right?"

"Yeah," Scanlon said. One side of his face was silvered by moonlight, the other made gold by the light that spilled through the open French doors of the bar. "You bring the kid back to life. You're the hero. Everybody's happy. Makes a good story."

"No," I answered honestly, "my power is over matter. I can change it how I will. I might have healed the boy's body, if I'd thought to do it in time." Although, bodies, with their ties to spirit, are not so easy to change. Still, my listeners didn't need to know that. "But I can't call back a spirit once it's gone to the land of the dead. Nor can I enter there. I am immortal. I can never pass that threshold. If I can capture a spirit before it escapes, I can hold it—in a secret place. But if it escapes me, I cannot follow it to the place of the dead."

And sooner or later, to my regret, they all escaped me, including my beloved Laheese.

"Secret place? You mean that ruby thing," One-eye put in.

"Yes, in the ruby," I admitted. I did not tell them how many souls were locked in that blood red prison. I didn't show them that I still wore it tonight, mounted in yellow gold in a ring on my finger. I gazed around at my small audience, all of them looking tired and rather seedy from our day's sailing and replete with food and ale. Scanlon sucked at his teeth, while One-eye looked for the last tasty tidbits on his plate. Razor gazed at the barmaid. There was only one person here who needed to hear the rest of the tale. I sent a thought to the two men: it was late and time to leave. Soon enough Scanlon stretched, the joints in his back and shoulders popping loudly.

"Man, you sound like an explosion," One-eye said to him.

"I feel like a damp squib. This is enough fun for me tonight. Good night all, I'll see you in the morning." With another long stretch, he rose to leave.

"Wait for me," One-eye said, scooting back his chair. "I'm leaving too." He turned to me. "Thanks for the story, Nate Lee, even if there wasn't any sex."

The two men strolled away and left me alone with Razor.

"She wants me. I can tell," said Razor, still looking at the barmaid.

"And her friend wants to keep her," I replied.

Razor turned to me and grinned her gape-toothed grin. "Wanting and getting are two different things. I've done got old and ugly, but I ain't slowed down, not in bed nor out."

"So, are you leaving, too, or are you going to stay here and see if you can take the girl home with you?"

"Oh, I'm staying. And I won't be going home alone."

"Then I may as well continue my story. This tale is intended for you."

She gave me her attention then, and I could see the thoughts coming together behind her eyes. Could it be that old Razor would be the first of my beloved's far daughters, so many, many daughters down the long line of time, the first one to believe me when I told her the truth? I settled back more comfortably in my chair and continued my story, now told especially for my audience of one.

"Laheese held her son and rocked his dead body and grieved. But gradually, as the sky darkened and the moon rose—a fat, full moon, like tonight's moon," I said gesturing past the wrought iron railing of the terrace where the white moon spilled its light over the sea before us, "the grief grew into anger, an icy anger, a fitting rage in the cold white light of Luna. And in the folly of my new born love for her, I nudged that grief in a direction that I thought would bring me all I desired.

"She thought of Rold, now sleeping in Da-sing's house, while their son lay cooling in her arms. She brushed the hair away from the boy's face and kissed him on his mouth and on his forehead. Then she wrapped his corpse in a soft scrap of deer hide and set it aside while she turned to her daughter. She put the baby girl in a net sling made of woven grasses and lined with moss. The baby stirred once, then stuffed her fist in her mouth and went back to sleep. Careful not to wake her, Laheese put her own head and shoulder through the sling so that her daughter hung snug against her back. Then she knelt and gathered up the body of her son. She staggered a little as she rose. She was so weak from hunger and grief that she could barely carry the weight of both children.

"Quietly, she stepped outside. All was silent. Full bellies guaranteed a deep rest and tonight, all except my beloved had eaten. Laheese stepped away from the house that had been her mother's and slipped silently through the village. Even without the bright moonlight, she would have known the way to Da-sing's house. She had spent half of her life sitting with the other apprentices around the shaman's firepit. She had learned to sing, to chant, to Journey. She'd learned herb lore and spirit lore. Over and over she had learned all the lessons, for Da-sing always found some fault with her so that she never received the final initiation. But tonight, Laheese was determined to perform her own initiation ceremony. And she would not come away from that ceremony empty handed.

"But first there was the matter of her son. Wary as a deer approaching a waterhole, Laheese approached the house of Da-sing. She stepped lightly and carefully, watching for tools, for carelessly placed baskets. I followed as if I were her shadow. I was eager for her to deal with her son's body and get on with the night's work. Yes, I knew she grieved, but I did not grieve for her. I was new to love then. I had yet to learn all the many forms of love's vine that twined into the heart and soul. I smelled only the sweet scent of love's flowers. The bitter taste of love's fruit was yet to come.

"Finally, step by cautious step, she reached the shaman's house. The hide that hung over the doorway was thrown back, and there were still a few embers in the firepit to give a faint glow of light. Laheese slipped inside, and I flowed in with her. It was dim in that house of bones, and it reeked of hides and charms, of herbs and grasses. It reeked of bodies seldom washed, and it stank with the smell of sex coming off the man and woman who sprawled on bear hides, sleeping. Over everything hung the smell of cooked meat.

"Da-sing and Rold had finished the haunch of venison there was only a bit of sinew left on the bone. Her stomach churning at the odor, Laheese stepped next to the bear hides and knelt by the sleeping man. Both Rold and Da-sing were smeared with greasy streaks of the shaman's body paint, and she realized how thoroughly she'd been betrayed. Rold had gone with the old woman willingly and left her and their children to fend for themselves. Gently, she laid her dead son next to his father. Then, with one last kiss for the boy, one last glance of contempt for the man, she stood and left the house.

"Once out of the village, Laheese walked quickly. She carried nothing but her baby girl, who was a warm bundle against her back. There was enough moonlight to show the path clearly and, at first, it led through territory she knew well. She passed the little spring where they drew their water, passed the place where the men knapped fine flint points for the spears as they talked and told stories, passed the stand of blackberries that provided fruit for the winter pemmican when there was enough meat to preserve for pemmican. She was tempted to stop here and gather a few last berries, but there wasn't enough light to see them clearly, and she knew that some of the brambles had thorns as big as her thumb. She continued into the forest, stumbling a little now that the tree shadows blocked the light. But I walked with her and gently nudged her feet to the safest path. Since I was not yet truly in the mortal world, I could do no more for her.

"Laheese walked all night. She walked until the dawn colored the land with morning, until she reached a clearing where a small spring provided water, and soft grass invited her to lie down. She sank down beside the spring and drank her fill. Then she saw a trout in the water and snatched it out with her bare hands. The fish was slick and wriggling, but she held it with desperate care. Quickly, she ripped apart the soft flesh and scooped it clean. She ate the flesh raw, hardly bothering to chew as she gulped it down. When she had finished, she washed her hands and face in the spring and took her baby from the sling on her back. The child stirred and whimpered, and Laheese gave it her breast to nurse. After the baby had drained both breasts, Laheese found a spot where the sun shown down gently on the grass and curled up with her child to sleep. In moments, both were deep in dreamless slumber, helped along by my own will that Laheese care for herself. I stood guard over them all the long day while they slept, and no dangerous creature came near them.

"It was evening when my beloved awoke. She drifted up slowly from her heavy sleep, as if she herself were a fish coming up from the depths. She opened her eyes with no memory of who or where she was or why she had slept in the clearing instead of in her own house. I gave a gentle nudge to her spirit, a small surge of energy, and suddenly she remembered her dead son and her betrayal by that son's father. The memory was a stab of pain that made her double over where she lay, as if the knowledge were truly a knife in her heart. And I, in spirit, howled with her for her pain was my pain now. It was then that I knew I was bound to this woman for eternity. I was trapped, truly and forever.

"But her movement had awakened her daughter, who now howled herself. The baby was hungry, filthy, and frightened. Laheese fed her with her milk again—she had a little more now that she had eaten—and then washed her with water from the stream and changed the now filthy padding of moss that lined her sling for soft, fresh grass. When she was done, the baby was well enough content, and Laheese turned her thoughts to what she intended next.

"I could see into her mind, and I knew she still planned to perform her own ceremony of passage, to proclaim herself a shaman to all the world of spirits, and to seek a guardian to help her defeat her enemy, Da-sing.

"Laheese hid her child beneath the brush that grew nearby, pulling up long stems of grass around her like a doe hiding her fawn. Then, she stripped off the hide and leggings she wore and lay down naked on a bed of grasses and flowers, just as she'd been the first time I'd seen her. She had no one to drum for her, but she knew the sound so well that the rhythm was as clear in her mind as if the drummer sat beside her. Her breathing slowed, her eyes closed, and Laheese began her Journey.

"Her spirit slipped into the familiar dream and she stood looking down into the forested valley below. I followed her there and watched her from the shadows. Still, she wanted a powerful totem animal to be her help and guide in her battle with Da-sing. But all of the dream world knew about Mammoth and the fate she'd met at my will. None would come near Laheese while I lurked near the girl. Well then, if she wanted a totem, I would give her one. I put on the form of a stag in his prime, with a huge spread of antlers, and I stepped out from the shadows.

"But my deception was for nothing. She knew me in an instant.

"'You again!' She put her hands on her hips. Her spirit form wore only the shaman's cap with it's fringe of bone and the body paint that Da-sing had denied her. 'First a false wolf and then a false stag. Go away deceiver, I need more than your petty tricks.'

"I dropped back into my wolf form again and grinned at her.

"'You don't like my choices?' I looked into her mind and found a form that pleased her. I willed the change again, and a man stood before her.

"'Rold?'

"'Not Rold as he is,' I said. 'Rold as you would like him to be. This is the form that fills your heart. The man who sired your children is but a shadow of what you desire, but I can be everything that he is not.'

"'What I desire is a guardian to help me save my tribe,' she said. But her eyes lingered long on the muscular form that I'd created. 'And beauty cannot bring success to our hunters. Your tricks call no game and feed no one.'

"I changed forms once again. She had in her the image of a forest god, one even more powerful than the animal spirits she sought. But it was forbidden to approach this nameless green god, so Laheese sought to find Deer, or Elk, or Mammoth, whom she did not know was gone forever. I took the form described in her tribe's tales, man-shaped, tall, strong. A tangle of green hair hung down my back. Eyes the same leaf green peered from skin brown as bark, but smooth, with a satiny glimmer. I let the smallest trace of my power shimmer around me, just to let her know that I was no mere shape-shifter. Laheese caught her breath and trembled.

"'My Lord, I did not know who you were.'

"She still didn't know, but at last I'd found a form that she could understand. It would do. Yet, even believing me god of the forest, Laheese was still too proud to worship me. She stood straight and firm before me, too young to understand anything but her own needs, and I knew she was summoning up the strength to demand my help. But Laheese had been too long hungry. Her slender body burned its last reserves, and she fell like a young sapling going down under blow of a stone axe. Her spirit fell out of the dreaming realm and back into her exhausted body.

"She sprawled on the grass amid the flowers, a small, too thin woman lying naked on soft grass. I could feel her spirit fluttering to be free. Soon, she would fly to that place where I could not follow. Her baby daughter mewled from her resting place in the brush nearby, as if she wanted to follow her mother. Desperate, I reached into the forest and called forth a doe and her fawn.

My need drove me and, for the first time, I manifested a body in the mortal world. The forest god stood in the clearing where Laheese lay dying.

"The deer emerged from the trees with slow grace, the doe first with her fawn following after, like innocence embodied. I made claws of my nails and slashed both their throats. Laheese's baby I set to suckle at the teat of the still warm doe. The fawn I tore apart with my hands, and I fed the tender, raw meat to my beloved.

"I changed the meat as it entered my love, sending it to restore her famished body. Her ashy skin grew brown, and her bones were once again hidden behind firm young muscles. Her breathing deepened, and she slept in my arms. I healed her hurts and bruises, but there was nothing I could do for her bitter, broken heart. Beside us, the babe drained the doe dry and fell asleep with her head pillowed on the soft hide."

But a voice interrupted my tale.

"Another pitcher?" the barmaid asked, leaning well forward in Razor's direction so the old woman could peer down her dress. The cloth fell away, revealing pert breasts like ripe peaches.

"Hell, yes," Razor answered with a wicked smile. "Bring us another, sweetheart, and bring a glass for yourself. Nate Lee's in fine form tonight, and you don't want to miss this tale."

Did she really see nothing but a man telling a story? I glanced over at Razor--short gray hair, strong jaw, wrinkled skin, blue eyes eager for life. All Razor saw was a chance to get closer to the girl. I sighed, frustrated that she was so like Laheese in her single-minded focus on getting what she wanted.

Thumping a pitcher on the table, the girl joined us. Kisha, she was called, a local girl looking to better herself. Razor was twice Kisha's age, but Razor owned her own business, down on the docks. Her company loaded cargo on anything that moved, whether by water or through space. She could afford to buy Kisha the shiny things the girl wanted. But over by the bar, Kisha's dock-hand lover waited. I watched her through the open doors that led inside from the terrace where we sat, and I saw how she glowered at the three of us in a way that boded no good.

"Go on with your tale, Nate Lee," Razor urged as she slipped her arm around Kisha's slender waist. "Did you live happily ever after with this Laheese?"

"Not exactly," I answered. "When Laheese awoke she still had only one thought in mind. She demanded that I help her defeat her enemy, Da-sing."

"Demanded?" Razor asked. "You said she thought you were a god."

"So I said, and so she did. But that made no difference to Laheese. To call her proud would not do her justice. She was beyond proud, beyond arrogant, to a realm of thought that was pure in single minded will. Indeed, it was what made me love her.

"I could not resist her. I could not deny her. What Laheese wanted, I wanted. She consumed me.

"That was the way of it.

"So, I dressed the doe and wrapped the meat in the hide while Laheese nursed her baby again. I made a sack from the skin of the fawn's tail and hung it on a strand of the doe's sinew. With a thought, it was well cured, tanned and fit to hold my treasure. The ruby that was my heart fit inside it, the ruby that was prison to Mammoth and so many others. Then, I took the form of a woman, one young and comely, knowing that such a body would give me easier entry to the Mammoth Clan."

"Yes!" said Razor, slamming her tankard on the table. "Now this story's getting better." She laughed and nuzzled Kishee's neck.

At the bar, Kishee's lover started toward us. I saw love and jealousy flare around her, and she walked in a cloud of her own pain. But I had no patience with her. I willed her away and watched as she sat back down at the bar, a forlorn yet brooding figure.

I took a deep draught from my tankard, then continued, determined to finish my tale and leave this place forever.

"We stayed in the clearing another day and another night, Laheese, her baby girl, and I. I changed her memories of me, and she accepted me as her friend, a woman she'd met in her travels. I made a shaman's fur cap for Laheese, since she wanted one so much. With a thought, I placed it on her head and let the bone beads dangle around her pretty face. The cap was so much a part of her image of herself that Laheese never noticed the change.

"Although she did not recognize me, Laheese was confident that her forest god favored her, and that she now had the power she needed to defeat Da-sing. So, at her command, I gathered the venison from the deer into a bundle and slung it over my shoulder while Laheese carried the child she called Little Love, and we started back toward the village of the Mammoth Clan. I changed time as we walked, slowly, subtly, so that Laheese took no note of it. I knew it would be safer for my love if there were no cause to question her now healthy and well fed flesh. When we arrived at our destination, a month had passed.

"I made sure we reached the village without anyone seeing us. It seemed to the Mammoth Clan that their rejected would-be shaman had long been among them with her baby and a female stranger. But it was not by my doing that we arrived amidst confusion and commotion. The Mammoth Chief and his hunters had returned to the village only moments before our arrival, and all they had to show for their hunt was a few rabbits and a pheasant. It was not nearly enough to fill the many empty bellies that awaited them.

"Da-sing emerged from her house, dressed in her shaman's cap and beads, her body painted with designs in yellow, red, and black. Yet, even she looked thinner than when I'd seen her last. With their essence gone, the mammoth herds were dying, and the Mammoth Clan was dying with them.

"'What is this?' Da-sing demanded, eyeing the pitiful handful of animals the hunters had brought back to the village. 'I thought you were men! Hunters of mammoth! This is game fit for small boys to bring down in their training hunts.'

"She stood with her chin high, her hands on her hips, and stared at the Mammoth Chief with contempt. But he was not to be cowed by her. If blame was cast, it would not land on his weary shoulders.

"'You sent us after mammoth, old woman,' he growled. 'We followed the way you told us your dream showed you. But there were no mammoth there. Just as there have been none of the great ones seen for all this past hunting season. You have lost your gift, shaman! The spirits no longer speak to you!'

"I saw Da-sing glance toward Rold and saw that young man's face harden.

"'It is you who have lost the favor of the spirits!' Da-sing spat, pointing at the chief with a bony finger. 'You are old and too weary to lead our clan any longer. It is time for a new chief, someone strong enough to lead our hunters to the kill.'

"I smiled as I understood the game we'd come upon. This was all spectacle, for the battle was futile. The weight of Mammoth's soul was heavy inside the ruby that I carried in the pouch hung around my neck. No matter who won today, there was no future for my beloved's clan. But Laheese did not know that. She had heard all that I had heard and made her own conclusions. She stepped forward, bold as always, looking strong and fit with the flesh I had restored covering her bones. Her baby hung from the sling on her back. The child slept, no longer crying from hunger.

"Rold started as he recognized Laheese. Da-sing hissed. The Mammoth Chief regarded her with sudden calculation.

"'It is true that Da-sing has lost her gift,' Laheese asserted. 'She can find no game because there is no room in her heart for anything but her own desires.'

"'Liar!' Da-sing burst out. 'Vain girl! How dare you set yourself against me! Take off that cap that you have no right to wear. I am ashamed that I allowed you into my house to try to teach you.'

"Laheese shook her head, making the bone beads of her shaman's cap dance. 'I have taught myself more than you ever wanted me to know, greedy old woman. I can find the game that you cannot see!'

"The Mammoth Chief looked from one woman to the next, and he noted how Rold stood between them, as if he were the real prize in this war of wills between the women. Da-sing preferred Rold to the chief in her bed, and now she'd made it plain that she meant Rold replace him as Mammoth Chief as well. An idea bloomed among the chief's slow, persistent thoughts, and I smiled again as I realized what he planned.

"'Show us your power,' he said, 'both of you. Let the spirits settle this. The one who brings us game is the true shaman.'

"'So be it,' Laheese agreed, full of faith in her forest god.

"Da-sing had no way out. 'As you say,' she told the chief. 'We will dream, this upstart girl and I.'

"And I, knowing how much this meant to my beloved, decided to take a hand in the game.

"'No need for dreaming,' I said. For the first time, they noticed that I was there. I dropped the hide full of venison on the ground at my feet. 'Laheese can call game to the village, such is her power.' I looked at Da-sing. 'Can you do the same?'

"There was murmuring from the hungry people gathered around us.

"'That is not the way of our ancestors!' Da-sing protested.

"The chief saw his chance and took it. 'The way of our ancestors leaves us with empty bellies,' he said. 'If this girl can call game to the village, she is indeed a most powerful shaman, favored by the spirits.'

"I smiled then, although from the uneasy glances that came my way, I knew my smile held too much of a wolf's grin. 'Out of respect for her age and power,' I said, 'let the shaman, Da-sing, make the first effort. Can she not call one of the great ones to the village?'

"It was all I could do not to laugh out loud when I saw how Da-sing paled. Even if the old woman had been as powerful as she liked to pretend, I knew there were no more mammoth to call. But Da-sing was trapped in her own boasting. So, she began the show. She chanted, she called on spirits and powers, she called on Mammoth who was no more. She threw colored powders into the fire as she gestured and danced. After a time, all grew weary of this display. Da-sing's steps faltered. Her voice cracked. She was nearly as hungry and weak as the others, and the pretense had taken much out of her.

"At last, the Mammoth Chief grew tired of Da-sing's efforts. He turned toward Laheese. 'Can you do better than this, girl?'

"Laheese smiled and held out her hands. I stood behind her and, with my mind, I searched the land surrounding the village. Not far away, a small herd of deer lay hidden in the forest. With a thought, I willed them to come to me. A few moments later, just as the Mammoth Chief started to look uneasy, a stag, his two does, and their fawns stepped out from among the trees.

"Da-sing made a high pitched sound of denial. Rold and the other hunters reached for their spears. The animals stood, held by my will, and let themselves be slaughtered. There was a smell of blood and entrails on the air. The men ripped apart the animals with savage efficiency as the old women built up the cooking fire.

"The men set the freshly butchered meat on a bed of pine branches and divided it into piles--a share for the hunters, a share for the chief, plenty for the other people of the clan. That left the fourth share, the shaman's share. Da-sing started to reach for it, out of habit as much as anything, I suppose. The chief's brawny arm knocked her aside. Da-sing sprawled on her face in the dirt, and her shaman's cap rolled away into the shadows.

"The Mammoth Chief turned to Laheese and pointed out the last share of meat. 'This is yours, shaman, yours by right.' Laheese took the meat and took her place as shaman of the Mammoth Clan. She took Da-sing's house and Da-sing's lovers. Rold lived with her in Da-sing's old house, while Little Love, later named Anith, lived with me in Laheese's mother's old place. When it pleased her, Laheese sent Rold away and took the Mammoth Chief to her bed."

"So, you lived happily ever after with your little love, did you?" Razor asked.

"Ever after," I replied, "but not happily.

"Anith grew from child to woman in the time I spent with her mother. Her budding breasts and graceful walk made her look like her mother had when first I met her. Indeed, my heart ached with old memories every time I saw her for I knew my time with my beloved was coming to an end. No," I told my listener, knowing full well how her mind ran, "I did not desire Anith. It was her mother I loved, loved then, love always. But I looked after the girl for the sake of Laheese.

"So it went, year after year. My love's hair grew gray, and her thin figure grew thinner. Anith grew to a woman and took a man of her own. The old chief died, and Laheese allowed Rold to replace him, although all knew that he ruled only the hunt. I made my body age to match that of Laheese. More than once, I slipped into her dreams to offer her youth again. Immortality for a mortal woman was beyond even my power, but I could stop the pain and weariness. Yet, she always refused me. She was too much grounded in what she was to want what I offered. So, she grew older and weaker.

"I moved back Laheese into her mother's house so I could care for her. She'd long since taught Anith all she knew of the shaman's way, and now her daughter led the tribe and her husband led the hunters. They hunted deer and bison, and other game, and the great ones became creatures of myth and legend."

"Your tale ends with a whimper," Kishee pouted. "She comes back and grows old. There's nothing special about that."

I looked at the barmaid, and she shuddered.

"Go," I told her. "This tale is not for you. Go join your lover before you break her heart."

Razor frowned, but Kishee got up and went back inside the bar. We sat in silence for a few moments at our table on the terrace, the moon bathing us in glimmering light.

"Well, then, Nate Lee, finish your tale. I want to hear the last of it before I take that girl home with me."

"As you wish," I said. "As Kishee noted, Laheese came home, became their shaman, and grew old among her people. Then, at last, there came the day that I held Laheese in my arms as she struggled to breathe.

"'Let me help you!' I begged her. 'Let me heal you and make you young again.'

"Frail as a bundle of sticks wrapped in hide, still her spirit was as strong and as proud as ever. She refused me. Again, she refused me!"

"I paused to let that bitter memory pass. If only she'd accepted what I offered, we could have had so much more time together!

"So, she died, did she?" Razor asked. But her eyes were on the bar, peering through the open door at the lighted scene within. The barmaid and her lover stood close together, heads touching.

"She was dying," I corrected. "My love was dying, so I let drop the disguise I'd worn for most of her life and let her see her forest god again.

"'At last, you return, my lord.' She smiled a little, as if she'd known who I was all along. 'My life has been good. My daughter is shaman, as I have been.' She held up one thin hand to stop me as I opened my mouth to beg her one last time to accept my gift. 'I do not want to be young again. I am ready to travel to the next world. But I do have one request.'

"'What is it? Ask, and I will give you your heart's desire.'

"'My daughter,' she whispered, her voice almost gone, her spirit hanging by a breath, 'give my daughter her heart's desire, and each of her daughters after her, so long as my line shall last, forever.'

"'Yes,' I promised, too new to the world to understand how rash that promise was. 'I will give them their heart's desire, just as you ask. Only, stay with me! Don't go where I can't follow!'

"But it was too late, I was talking to a corpse. The spirit of Laheese had fled, leaving me to fulfill my dreadful promise. And so I have, from daughter to daughter, on to her farthest daughter, even so today. And now, at last, it ends."

Razor's face turned toward me in the darkness. One side of her face glimmered with moonlight and the other glowed golden with the light from the bar beside us. "It's all true, isn't it?"

"Yes," I answered, "every heartache of it."

"So, why tell me?"

But I heard the suspicion in her voice. She'd guessed the point of my tale.

"You know why, far-daughter. I'm here to grant your heart's desire."

Razor laughed. "Nate Lee! Enough with this game. I've got a girl to steal." She made as if to rise.

So, froze time around us and stripped away the veil that hid my nature. I revealed myself as I truly I was, revealed myself only to her, to the last far-daughter of my beloved Laheese. Razor gasped and fell back in her chair. I could hear the hammering of her heart, the quickness of her breath, feel the rush of adrenaline that had her looking for a place to run. But, after a moment, I hid myself again. I only wanted her to believe. I didn't want to destroy her.

"So, tell me, far-daughter, last-daughter, what is your heart's desire? Do you want little Kishee? Or another? Money? Power? Just tell me. Let this curse be finished at last."

Just tell me, I thought, so my torment can be ended at long, long last.

But Razor was tough. She recovered quickly and leaned forward so that I could see the look of calculation on her face.

"I've got money," she said, "and power enough to suit me. Girls like Kishee I can win or buy. They come cheap and easy. I can have Kishee and her lover, too, without any of your tricks."

I frowned, impatient to be on my way.

"What do you want then? Tell me!"

"I'm still strong," she said, "but slower than I was. My bones ache morning and night. I want what you offered Laheese. I want to be young again. Make me young, Nate Lee. I want to be young and strong and beautiful again. That's my heart's desire."

"So be it," I said. And it was done. Why then did I feel disappointed to have this thing end so easily? Was it because this last daughter had asked for the thing my love had refused?

Razor stood, taller now that her back was straighter. She pushed black hair away from a handsome face and smiled at me with white, white teeth. Then, she turned and walked toward the bar. I knew she'd take the other two home with her tonight. And that in a year, all three women would be dead one by a knife, one by poison, and the third drowned in the ocean that flowed below our terrace. But that was Razor's choice. It was done.

Razor paused at the door to the bar and turned to look back at me. She smiled again, a mocking grin and tossed the words over her shoulder, "I'm not the last, Nate Lee," she said, "in case you thought you were done. In my youth, I found pleasure with men as well as women. I have a daughter of my own—somewhere. I haven't seen or heard from Silkie for twenty years, but if she's still alive, then she is the last far-daughter of Laheese, not I."

With that final blow, she left me there, alone on the terrace in the night. But no night was so dark as the despair that filled my heart.

# The End

Return to the Table of Contents

*****

# Love's End

*****

# Nate Lee

I found the woman named Silk in a backwater port on the edge of the Big Empty, a place of no importance to anyone save those born there. Silk lived in a city where worn red brick facades glittered with new frost, and trash blew freely down the treeless streets like small animals fleeing the cold. I'd stopped at an inn where travelers rested. From there I'd sent a quiet probe into a few minds and learned that Silk was a teacher here, drilling the history of their planet into the heads the half-grown children of local merchants.

It was a history of wars unending. For generation after generation, two nations fought one another for reasons that meant nothing. Atrocities committed in the name of patriotism led each side to believe the other to be monsters without heart or soul. It was clear to me that they'd never met true monsters, but since I was here, that was about to change.

I'd arrived a week before on a ship bringing yet more weapons to be used in the futile fight, and today I waited patiently outside the building where I knew Silk worked. As I loitered there, I stared down at the ruby that I'd had set into a ring that I wore on my right hand. I gazed into its deep and bloody light and reflected with bitter irony on the promise that had brought me so low. Old memories made light from the stone flash fire and agony, and I looked away.

I wasn't human. Never had been. But I'd been bound to a line of human women for millennia. And then, at long last, I'd thought I was free. I'd believed old Razor to be the very last far daughter of my long dead love. When I granted Razor's wish to have youth and health again I'd thought my curse was ended. For time turns love to dust and ashes, and even an immortal godling can grow weary of carrying love's burden for too long.

My Laheese had won a promise from me; a promise that I would grant the heart's desire of her daughter and of each of her daughter's daughters so long as her line continued. Young, just sprung fully formed out of chaos and desperate with longing to please my beloved, I had agreed. So began my curse.

I'd tracked Razor to where she ran a shop on the docks repairing ships for captains who weren't too choosy about where they did business. She'd claimed she had money enough and power enough to please her without my help, but she was weary from her many years and tired of the ache in her bones. I'd granted her youth, knowing the gift would destroy her, as my gifts had destroyed all the far daughters of my beloved Laheese. Yet, I'd felt nothing but relief that at last my curse was ended.

But Razor had paused in the doorway and turned to look back at me. She'd smiled, a mocking grin, white teeth flashing in a newly handsome face, and tossed the words over her shoulder, "I'm not the last, Nate Lee," she'd said, "in case you thought you were done. In my youth, I found pleasure with men as well as women. I have a daughter of my own—somewhere. I haven't seen or heard from Silkie for nearly thirty years, but if she's still alive, then _she_ is the last far-daughter of your Laheese, not I."

With that final blow, she'd left me there, alone on the terrace in the night. But no night was so dark as the despair that filled my heart.

My curse continued, and so did I. I'd looked deep into the paths that Razor's life had taken, and I'd finally found this place where she'd abandoned her only daughter thirty years before.

The woman called herself Silk now, and nothing more. By local custom, abandoned as a child, with no family to claim, she had no other name. Silk had grown up on charity, but she'd grown well. Peering into the minds of those who knew her showed me that she was respected for her intelligence and sometimes feared for her strength of will. What the woman set her mind to do, she did; and what she desired, she got. Silk was more like her far ancestor Laheese than any of the daughters I'd met in all my long, long journey.

I waited for her now, leaning casually against the wall near the doorway to the school where Silk taught. The bricks were bright red with oxides of the local soil and felt cool against my back. A mob of children had come out an hour ago. They shrieked with laughter, and their breath steamed in the chill of the planet's winter tilt. I watched them disperse, bright in color and sound, and I wondered again at how far this one small species had spread. I'd seen empires rise and fall, and still humans continued. But they almost never changed, not in any way that mattered.

Or maybe I was missing something.

Some humans believed their mortal lives were dreams, that they came, they lived and died, and then awoke to their true selves in some immortal realm. Was there more than just this life? I'd been born in the world of spirits, thrust out of chaos with no name and no idea of what sort of creature I was. I stared down once more into the red hell I wore on my hand. I could go back to the spirit world or I could be here, but nowhere else. The ruby was my life, my heart, my soul—if I had such a thing. Over time, I'd come to keep many spirits prisoner in that stone. If they ever escaped, would they go on to live again? As one who had never died, _could_ never die, I was forever barred from knowing whether this was true.

But that didn't matter. There was Silk, just leaving the building. A tall woman, wrapped in a hooded cloak of tan wool; it had to be her. The wind blew her scent to me, and I knew this was Razor's daughter.

I waited until she'd walked well down the way, and then followed. I didn't know how I would meet with her; I only knew that I must.

*****

# Silk

It was so stupid! She was furious. Her boot heels stomped the cracked pavement as if she were stomping their vacuous, stupid faces. Talent and skill counted for nothing. Education counted for even less. She had no family, no clan to claim, so she was less than this trash blowing by.

Blinkman had been so smug. "No woman has ever been given tenure at the Vostok School for the Children of Gentlemen," the old fossil had said. "For a person like you, a solitary, it's not even to be thought of."

It didn't matter that this solitary was the only member of the faculty to have published any papers in the past three years. While everyone else pretended to engage in research, Silk actually did the work of digging through the old archives. She was the foremost scholar on Teshara on the history of the war with the Sovs. She was the undisputed expert on the battles of the last fifty years. Even General Greenvitch had sent for her to come to his office so he could consult with her about the strategy for his next campaign. But that meant nothing. She was nothing.

Then her angry, head down march down the street was halted abruptly as she ran into the man who'd stopped in front of her. She bounced off him and onto the chest of his partner, who'd positioned himself behind her.

Shit! Brownshirts! Uniformed bullies who got their jollies shoving people around, people like Silk with no family to stand up for them. Why couldn't her mother have abounded her on a more civilized world?

"What's the big rush, pretty face?"

"Nothing," Silk muttered. "No rush."

He frowned at her lack of deference, but nothing in this world would make her call this lout "sir."

"You should pay attention to where you're walking," said the one who stood behind her. His big hands came down on her shoulders, holding her in still.

"Solitaries should know their place," the first lout said. He was a foot taller than she and twice her weight. Silk was sure the one behind her was the same, even though she hadn't seen him yet. The Brownshirts were all of a type, recruited for their size, their aggression and, most important, for their family connections.

The bully in front of her put one finger under Silk's chin and raised her face so he could peer down at her. He would have been handsome, she thought, if it weren't for the malice in his gray eyes. She resisted the urge to spit in his face. She hated them, but she wasn't suicidal yet.

Instead, Silk closed her eyes and willed her face to show no emotion. She knew he'd take her stillness for fear but, she hoped, not enough fear to trigger violence from the pair of them.

"Let's take her in the alley," the one behind her said. "Teach the bitch to show some respect."

Silk gasped. She couldn't help herself. This was going to be more than the usual humiliation.

*****

# Nate Lee

From far down the block, I watched the two big men bracket Silk. She stood between them, and all I could see of her was the flutter of her cloak in the wind. I slowed. If these were friends of hers, I'd wait until she was alone again. But their posture wasn't that of friends. They loomed over the woman, and then I caught the scent of her fear.

I smiled.

This was the opportunity I'd been waiting for. I ran toward them, moving only as fast as a speedy human could move. I didn't want to attract any attention to what I planned to do. I reached them as they dragged the struggling Silk into an alley. And I was on them before they knew I was there.

Once we were hidden from sight, I stopped pretending to be human. I broke the arm of the one holding Silk and flung him head first into the wall at the end of the alley. Silk screamed as she fell into a mound of trash, and the noise of her fall hid the sound of the man's skull bones cracking against the bricks. He fell heavily, and I knew he'd never rise again.

Meanwhile, the other man had turned to me with an expression of outrage on his face. I grinned at him. It was clear that he wasn't used to having anyone interrupt his amusements.

He reached for me, and I tossed him after his fellow. His neck snapped with a sharp crack as he too smashed headfirst into the wall.

Silk was on her hands and knees, too shaken to have regained her feet or to notice what I'd done. I grabbed her hand and pulled her up.

"Come on," I urged. "Run before they wake up."

They would never wake, not in this life, but Silk didn't know that. I charged out of the alley, dragging her along with me as if I expected the two who had accosted her to come after us. But I slowed my run to something she could keep pace with as I followed a twisting path through the streets of the city. There weren't many people out on this cold and windy afternoon, so we had a free run past red brick and leafless trees, past empty shops with boarded up windows, and parks full of dead grass. At last, I felt Silk's steps slowing as the adrenaline burned away and fatigue caught up with her. I slowed as well, then stopped.

"I think we lost them," I said, panting as if I too were tired.

We were standing in the shadow of a statue of some forgotten general. His sword was a broken stump, and bird droppings masked his face. But there was a stone bench nearby, so I led Silk to it and sat down beside her.

I turned to her and, for the first time, I looked fully into her face. It was a face that set my heart pounding like a mortal youth suddenly stricken with his first love. I had not seen those features since the time of my own beginning. It was her face, my beloved's face, Laheese reborn.

Her eyes were dark and fringed with long lashes. Her features were even but not perfect enough to be called beautiful. Her mouth was firm and set with strength of will. She was Laheese come back to me after all these thousands of lonely years.

"Thank you," she said, and even her voice was the voice I remembered. "But you shouldn't have taken such a risk. If anyone saw us, your life is forfeit."

I smiled at her, my first real smile is so very long. "No one saw us," I said. And if they had, I would deal with them in my own way.

But she frowned at me, and her dark eyes were serious as she said, "I can see you're a stranger. Believe me, you won't live long if you cross the Brownshirts."

I almost laughed out loud. I would never worry about how long I had to live. But I needed to make the most of this time with her. I needed to win her trust so I could learn her heart's desire and be free of my curse. That was why I wanted her trust, wasn't it?

"You're right," I said. "I'm a stranger here. Just passing through. My name's Nate Lee. What's yours?"

"Silk," she answered. "Just Silk, nothing more." She looked at me with measuring eyes and then took pity on what she thought was the ignorance of a stranger. "That means I have no family, no clan. I'm what we call a solitary, a person who belongs nowhere and to no one. One who means nothing."

"That seems a lonely way to be," I said. I was fascinated by the golden color of her finely textured skin. I could look at her forever and never regret the time. Surely, the humans were right, and this was my beloved reborn.

Silk shrugged and pushed her hair away from her face. "It's the way things are here."

"I have no family either," I volunteered. So far as I knew, I was the only one of my kind, whatever that kind might be. "But that doesn't matter much where I come from."

"And where is that?"

"Around," I said. "I can usually find work as crew on a freighter. Sometimes I find a planet I like and stay for a while. Sometimes, my luck runs out, and I'm grounded on a place like this."

"Bad luck, indeed."

I smiled at her with sly eyes. "Maybe not," I said.

*****

# Silk

She was meeting Nate Lee again for lunch. It still amazed her how fast he'd become a central part of her life. After nearly thirty years alone, she suddenly had someone else, someone to care about, someone—she hoped—who cared about her.

Nate Lee, what an odd, foreign sounding name, as odd as the man himself. She'd taken to calling him Nathan, a much more familiar sound. His difference wasn't in the way he looked. With his lanky height, long, white-blond hair and ice-blue eyes, Nathan looked enough like other men of Ushan to blend in. But the way his mind worked! Ah, that was something very different.

He was the first person she'd ever met who truly didn't look down on her for being a solitary. It meant absolutely nothing to him. It was so strange to Silk, so refreshing. Even the other solitaries in Ushan had the sense of discrimination burned so deeply into their souls that they looked down on one another. They knew their place, as the Brownshirts put it.

But not her Nathan.

She was on her way to meet him at a little restaurant near the port, a place humble enough to accept solitaries—and travelers—as customers. She wore her best dress, a soft fabric in turquoise blue. She hoped Nathan would like it. Silk caught herself hurrying and forced herself to a more decorous pace. She was afraid, she was very much afraid, that she was falling in love with the handsome stranger.

*****

# Nate Lee

I was going to see Silk again today. Just the thought of her made me smile. She was so strong, so brave. Just as Laheese had been strong and brave when faced with betrayal by her tribe. But I had helped her take her revenge on them, and I would give Silk her heart's desire as well.

I frowned, suddenly divided. I had faithfully fulfilled my promise to Laheese. Generation after generation, I had given each of her daughters and her daughters' daughters their heart's desire. And generation after generation, my gift had destroyed them. What was Silk's desire, and what would it do to her? And why did I care? I was Nate Lee who never had been a man!

Ah, but there she was in a swirl of turquoise cloth; dark, intelligent eyes shining; hair unbound in a gleaming tumble down her back. Everyone else in the room faded to nothing in her presence.

She crossed to me with rapid, decisive steps, a broad smile on her face.

"Nathan, you're early."

"I couldn't wait for you any longer," I told her, falling easily into the personality I'd created just for her. And as I spoke, I realized that it was true. I'd missed her, even though we'd been apart only a day.

I would have to show her what I truly was, and it would have to be soon, before I was totally lost. Once Silk understood, I would grant her heart's desire, and that would be the end. At long last, the end.

So, why did the prospect of freedom leave me feeling flat?

Silk sat down across from me in the booth that I had kept for us. She chattered about the small details of her day, complaining about the bureaucracy that held her back, bragging about the latest discovery she'd made in the archives. It was all meaningless to me. I was interested only in hearing the sound of her voice. I let the words flow over me like cool water and drank in the reality of her. We had something to eat. I didn't notice what. We drank. I suppose it was wine.

Her lips were pink and natural, without the coating of red grease that so many of the women here wore. She'd conceded enough to fashion to have had holes pierced in her ears, and she'd hung little silver hoops through them. Ear rings, yes. They sparkled in the light. Her arms were rounded with smooth muscle, and her breasts were two perfect mounds. I had been playing the part of Nathan for too long. I could not look away from her.

"You aren't listening to a word I say," she accused.

"Yes, I am," I protested. I played back her conversation in my head. "You found a report in the archives that proves the Dirov Clan joined the Ushan after the big battle for the peninsula. That's great work!"

"True," she agreed, her eyes narrowed, frowning at me.

What had I done wrong?

"But, Nathan, that was what I told you last week, not today."

"Oh." I'd lost track of time. Humans were so fussy about breaking it into ever more minute increments. What did it matter if she'd found the manuscript last week or today? It was just another piece of trash documenting a meaningless war. But I didn't want her to be angry with me. We weren't done yet.

"I'm sorry," I said and made a contrite face. "Sweetheart, a lot of what you do just goes right over my head. I guess I'm just not the intellectual type."

It worked. She smiled. Silk was vain about her academic accomplishments.

"That's okay," she said. "You have other virtues."

I laughed. I wasn't sure why. But I'd managed to please her, and that made the part of me that was Nathan happy.

"Have you had any luck finding work?" she asked.

I shook my head back and forth the way the locals did. "No, nothing yet. Not unless I want to enlist."

She took my hand and squeezed it hard. "Please, don't do that!"

"If you say so."

Nathan was a very agreeable fellow, nothing like Nate Lee at all. But Nathan embodied everything Silk desired, whether she knew it or not.

"I could probably get passage on a freighter out of here on a work for a berth basis," I said, leading her deeper into the trap. "But sweetheart, I'd miss you."

"Oh. You'd leave?"

"I don't want to, but a man's gotta pay his way. I can't afford to stay at the inn at the port much longer."

Would she take the bait? I watched quietly as Silk thought the problem through. I'd taken more care with this last daughter than with any other. I wanted to be certain that she was indeed the very last of the line of my beloved Laheese. I wanted to know her well enough to be sure that there were no more abandoned, forgotten daughters, such as this woman whom old Razor had sprung on me. And Nathan, that poor, mortal-seeming portion of myself, Nathan was falling in love with Silk.

I looked down at the ruby I wore on my hand. I'd turned the stone inward so that it faced my palm. Silk didn't like to see it, but I did. It made me remember who and what I truly was. It helped me to be strong.

Silk cleared her throat, as if she were having trouble finding the right words. Silk at a loss for words? Her cheeks were pink, and her gaze was anywhere but on my face. With some amusement, I realized that she was embarrassed.

"You could stay with me," she offered.

Even I could barely make out the words above the noise of the restaurant. But I pretended she'd spoken clearly and well. After all, this was what I'd been working towards.

"With you, Silk? Stay at your place?"

This had to be her choice. It was beyond my power to force one of the far daughters of Laheese to do anything she didn't want to do.

"It's not much," she said, suddenly shy. "Just a little apartment near the school where I teach, but there's room enough for two . . . if you don't mind sharing a bed."

I let Nathan's delighted grin spread across my face.

*****

# Silk

Living with Nathan was so easy, so right. For the first time in her life, Silk felt honestly happy. It was good to wake to the long, lean warmth of his body in her bed. Silk snuggled closer to Nathan's back, rubbing her face in the hollow between his shoulder blades. She took a deep breath. She loved the smell of him. Oh, why stop there? She was in love with Nathan, all of him. She loved everything about him.

But she was worried. He still hadn't found work in the city. And the war was going badly for Ushan. There were rumors of enemy troop movements within sight of the city garrison. He could be conscripted into the army. It wouldn't matter to them that Nathan was a foreigner with no stake in this war. It would just mean that he was a solitary with no clan to protect him.

But if they married, if they had children and their children had children, eventually they'd form a new family. Their family would be small, but it only took three generations of the same line to be eligible to register as a clan. Once that happened . . . . Silk was momentarily lost in a vision of herself as the matriarch of a small clan with growing power. She'd finally be able to put her brains and will to good use. No more wasting her efforts trying to teach dunces who just happened to be born to the right parents.

Nathan gave a small snore and rolled over onto his stomach, leaving Silk staring at the vulnerable skin at the nape of his neck. Was that what she wanted? Truly wanted?

*****

# Nate Lee

Today, I was helping Silk take some of the children from her class on an outing in the countryside, or rather, Nathan was. I'd added more and more detail to his personality until he seemed almost a separate self. Nathan was simple and good natured, helpful, cheerful, and friendly. He was a little lazy and utterly without ambition. He tended to take the easy path unless driven otherwise by Silk.

Nathan was nothing like Nate Lee, but these days it was often easier to let Nathan take over the running of things while I sat back and observed. We were in a van, six pre-teen children, Silk, and myself. The children were noisy, laughing and talking among themselves. Silk was driving. She peered ahead at the rough dirt track that led to the site of the battle that was the subject of their study. We passed between leafless trees surrounded by dead brown grass. The sky spit a scattering of hail down onto the front window of the van. Clever little blades of some flexible material wiped away the wet. Razor would have liked this toy.

"Give it to me!"

"No!"

I glanced back at the students. They were pretending to argue over who should have one of their garments. It looked like a pink jacket. The argument was obviously just a pretense for touching, the sort of thing young humans did when they were ready to mate but didn't know how to start the process. I glanced away. None of them had reached puberty, so there would be no more than play today. There were three females and three males. An even number of couples. They would match up by dominance in their group. It required no intervention from me.

I smiled and turned in my seat so I could watch Silk in profile as she drove. She seemed oblivious to the activity behind her as she peered intently at the road ahead. The way forked, and she steered to the right. Her mouth was set with determination, but there was an air of excitement about her as well. This was her passion, this history of blood and death. These pointless battles and their meaningless outcomes truly mattered to Silk. I could not understand why, but as Nathan, I supported her research as I supported everything she did.

After a few more minutes of lurching along the ill maintained road, Silk stopped the vehicle in the middle of a clearing that looked no different from any of the others we'd passed through. She turned off the noisy engine and stood to face the children.

"This is the location of the final battle of the fourth Grand Campaign," she told them. And there was a singing note in her voice, like the voices of bards of old. The children grew silent and listened to her with a respect that surprised me.

"We're going to get out here," she told them at last. "And you will maintain a quiet and respectful demeanor. This is where your ancestors died so that you might live."

When she had their assent, Silk opened the door of the van. I stepped out first onto the wet, snow covered ground and took her hand to help her down. She was wearing her tan, hooded cloak again. The wind whipped it around her legs, and strands of her long dark hair blew out from under the hood.

The children followed her, looking around wide-eyed, as if expecting to see phantoms of their ancestors still on the field. I could have told them there were no lingering spirits here. And if there had been, they would have fled from my presence. But I was being simple, amiable Nathan today, so I just grinned at Silk and said nothing.

Silk led the children to where a trio of blasted trees stood blackened and ruined at one side of the clearing and began her lecture. Something appalling had happened here long ago in a tide of fire and death. I suppressed a yawn and strolled into the trees.

The woods called back older memories than those Silk knew. I remembered running in the form of a wolf through the forest of a shaman's dream world. I remembered meeting Mammoth, the avatar of her kind, and I remembered destroying her and so destroying all those like her, forever. I smiled again. The memory of Mammoth's surprise when she realized that I was no ordinary wolf had been a thing of joy to me. I glanced down at my ring, and it seemed to me that I could still hear her roars of fear and rage from deep inside the ruby.

I looked into the seething heart of the stone and remembered who I was. I was not the friendly, cheerful, compliant Nathan of Silk's dreams. I was unique in power and will. Today, I would reveal myself. Today I would learn the heart's desire of this very last far daughter of Laheese. I would grant her wish, and then I would be free.

I looked up at the gray and windy sky, feeling tiny chunks of ice lash against my face.

I would be free.

*****

# Silk

Where had Nathan gone? Silk finished her lecture and gave the children their assignment. "One hundred words on the importance of chain-of-command," she instructed. "I want you to relate that concept to the outcome of this battle." She heard repressed groans. "Due tomorrow," she said in her best instructor voice. Really, they were the brightest of her class. They should find this assignment easy.

She shivered. The weather had turned colder. More sleet blew into her face, and she closed her eyes against the ice. Time to get everyone back in the van and return to town. But where was Nathan?

The children trudged past her, intent on getting out of the weather. Silk shaded her eyes with her hand and peered into the whitening forest. Was that movement? She headed toward where she thought she saw a man walking among the trees.

But branches snapped behind her. She whirled as she heard one of the girls scream. Gunfire smashed through the muffled sounds of the woods in winter. More screams. Shouts. Men in long, dark gray coats rushed toward her. Three of the children were down, their bright blood staining the ground scarlet. Someone grabbed Silk from behind, jerking her back by the hood of her cloak.

"Let me go!" she cried.

Silk heard more gunshots, more screams from the children. She smelled hot, stinking breath close by her face. Frantic, she ripped open the clasp of her cloak and slipped free. She saw a dozen men in Sov uniform in the clearing. They'd appeared out of the sleet and snow like ghosts of the long past battle. They were thin and dirty, their uniforms in rags, but their weapons were deadly. What were these soldiers doing so close to the city? They should have been safe. The children should have been safe.

"Nathan!" she cried. No, no. Don't call him. He'd only be slaughtered with her and the children. If he'd gone far enough into the woods for the soldiers to have missed him, he might have a chance to live.

There was a final burst of gunfire, and she saw the last of her students fall. They were all down, all dead. She didn't know where Nathan was. She only hoped he would stay safely hidden.

"One bitch left," one of the soldiers said. He poked her in the stomach with his weapon, hard. Silk gasped with the pain.

"Then kill me," she said. She would not scream. Nathan might hear her and come.

"Not yet," another man answered. "Been a while since we had a woman. You're just Ushan scum, but you still got a cunt."

Silk felt nausea rise in her throat. Rape first, then death. So much for her plans and her high academic ambitions. So much for her dreams of starting her own clan. In the end, the only thing she had of value was her body.

*****

# Nate Lee

It took me a moment to recognize the rattle of gunfire in the distance. This place was primitive enough that they still used solid projectile weapons, and I'd grown unfamiliar with the sound. The noise came from the clearing where I'd left Silk and the children.

I snarled in rage. Silk was _mine_ , and I was not yet done with her.

I reached out and found their thoughts. The children were all dead or dying. Silk stood alone in a circle of enemies. Their leader wanted sex before they killed her. Others wanted only her death. The soldiers argued back and forth, striving for dominance.

I let go of the semblance of being a man. I let go of Nathan, and I returned to my true self. In an instant, I was on them like the wolf I resembled. I tore apart their flimsy bodies, ripped them limb from limb, opened throats, tore open their bellies so their steaming guts spilled on the snow. Silk screamed, and between one scream and the next it was done.

Fear dried up her voice as she stared at me and did not know me. Silk saw a monstrous wolf with supernatural speed. But what Silk saw was still only a fraction of what I was. I stalked forward, paws digging deep into the bloody snow. I looked into her eyes and let her see me truly.

Silk screamed again, full throated, full of shock. A scream of outrage that such a thing as I should exist in her world. When I judged that she hung at the edge of gibbering insanity and had seen all that she could hold, I resumed the form of Nathan. The ruby on my hand felt hot and heavy with the weight of the soldier's fresh caught souls.

"What are you?" she demanded, backing away from me.

"You've seen what I am," I replied. I had no more patience for this game. "Long ago, when humans were new, I fell in love with a human woman. She won a promise from me, my beloved. I promised her that I would grant the heart's desire of each of her daughters, so long as her line continued. And you, Silk, are the last, the very last of her daughters' daughters. So, tell me your heart's desire and end my curse of love."

"You think love's a curse?" she asked, straightening. She'd already regained her composure.

"I know it," I answered. "I've been bound by it for far more time than all the years in your history books."

Slowly, she looked around the clearing, at the dead children and the mangled remains of the soldiers. The air stank with blood and other fluids that were not meant to be outside a body. The snow was red, where it was not darker. Only the circle where Silk stood remained white. She'd lost her tan cloak and stood in the spitting sleet in a thin blue sweater and dark trousers. I saw her shiver, but I didn't think it was from the cold.

"So, you'll give me whatever I want?"

Her voice was calm and even. She was brave, my Silk. She knew now what I was, and she did not fear me at all.

"Yes," I said. "Just name your heart's desire."

"And if I wanted to stop this senseless war? Could you do that?"

"Yes," I assured her. It would be nothing to kill every enemy—man, woman, and child.

"And could you split this world, so that each side had their own space in which to be in peace?"

"If that is your heart's desire," I said. I could split the ground apart and both sides would be at peace in death.

"Or change the moon to silver?"

"Yes."

"Or change the sun to gold."

"Whatever you ask," I assured her. "You have only to tell me the one thing you wish the most."

She stared at me without fear, with a look of calculation on her face. It was so like that face I'd once loved that a part of me wanted me to tell her to stop, to wish for nothing from me. But I'd given my word, and I could not break it. This curse could end only when I granted the heart's desire of this very last far daughter of Laheese.

"And you are not my Nathan at all," she said. "Not really."

I heard cold anger in her voice and shuddered. Silk had fallen in love with a dream, and I'd just destroyed that dream by showing her the truth.

"Some _small_ part of me is Nathan," I admitted. Some small part of me loved her dearly and struggled to protect her.

"But you can give me anything? Anything I ask?"

"I cannot bring the dead to back to life," I admitted, glancing at the children's corpses. "But I can change mind and matter how I will."

Then she smiled, her lips curing upward in a savage satisfaction that I had not seen on her face before. The part of me that was Nathan covered her thoughts and would not let me know what was in her mind.

"Then here is my heart's desire," she said, with measured tones as if she were a judge delivering a weighty sentence. "Do this one thing, and do it well. It is all I ask."

"And what is your wish?"

"Nathan," she said. "Be my Nathan, truly him, with no hidden self, no secret powers. Be Nathan the man. Nothing more and nothing less."

"And you want Nathan's eternal love as well?" I asked wearily, knowing full well how such love became a trap and weight upon the heart.

"No," she said. "Nathan loves me now. That is enough. If he loves me in the future, it will be his choice."

I stared at her astounded by her courage and her confidence. And I began to feel afraid.

"Do you understand what you ask? You would turn a god into a mere man? You would throw away power and riches beyond counting?"

She shrugged and spoke impatiently. "I can find my own power and riches. Give me my Nathan, whole and complete, exactly as you have made him seem, only make it all real. Make him a man with the past you claimed, with the honor that overflowed from him, with the heart that you pretended to have."

I knew then that the end had come. The godling who had hidden among mortals for so long would be no more. My promise and my curse bound me to grant her heart's desire. I was trapped by my own love for a woman long dust. I would be the man she loved, and perhaps, when Nathan's end came, I would finally go to that far land from which I had been so long barred.

"So be it," I said. "You shall have your wish."

I took off my ring and held it toward her. The ruby gleamed with the power of souls trapped in its depths.

"Take this."

She reached for it and shuddered as her hand closed around it.

"This is my heart," I told her. "Crush it in your hand."

"Crush a stone?"

"If you want your Nathan, then do it."

She looked at me with eyes as proud and determined as those of far off Laheese, and her hand closed around the ruby as if she would smash the world.

I gasped as the ruby shattered under the power of her wish. Red light flew about the clearing, darting bits of life seeking escape. I heard screams and voices singing. Somewhere, I heard the trumpeting of Mammoth as she finally broke free of the jewel that had penned her. My power ran away from me, flying outward like birds escaping. My sense of self faded, diminished, grew less, until only one small part remained.

*****

# Silk

It had been a month since the slaughter in the forest. Silk had spent much of that time inventing a plausible explanation of how she and Nathan had managed to survive when her student's had died. In the end, the sheer ferocity of Nate Lee's slaughter had worked in their favor. She'd buried most of the weapons. There had been so little left of the enemy soldiers that the city elders had been forced to believe that they'd been taken by surprise by only two men who'd murdered the children and then been killed by her and Nathan in their turn. It had helped that the shock of the children's deaths had been out weighed by the shock of finding enemy soldiers so close to the city.

Silk still had her life, her job, and her apartment. She still had Nathan.

At times, visions of what Nate Lee had shown her troubled Silk. Today was such a day, so she was going home early to spend the afternoon with Nathan, to be sure that he was hers, utterly and completely. She needed to be sure that Nate Lee had kept his promise. She saw no trace, no remnant of the monster in the clearing in her Nathan. But still, she felt compelled to keep looking.

She let herself into the apartment and found Nathan napping in the bedroom. She undressed quietly, letting her clothes fall to the floor. Nathan stirred as she climbed on top of him and woke him with a kiss.

"Hey, honey, what are you doing home so early? I wasn't expecting to see you until this evening." He smiled the wide, friendly grin she'd grown to love.

She gazed into his blue eyes, searching for any trace of something other. But he was Nathan. Nothing more. No one else. He was _her_ Nathan.

Silk smiled back.

"I just wanted to surprise you."

She kissed him again, and found his lips warm and mortal. All thought of Nate Lee fled from her mind, and when Nathan's arms went around her, it was as if the godling had never been.

# The End

Return to the Table of Contents

*****

# Bonus Story:

# Death and His Daughter

"Welcome to Earth, gateway to Hell, doorstep of the Abyss," old Moe declaimed, waving grandly at the blank wall before us. He was thin and old and dressed in rags, but he still had a voice like a cello playing. The sound vibrated off the brick walls of the alley we lay in, a sound too rich for this place.

I snatched the bottle back out of his hand. It was my bottle, after all; I'd panhandled all day to get money for the red. The swig I took was warm as blood and just as cheap. I belched like a bullfrog and leaned back with a sigh against my comfortable pile of trash bags. It was one of those summer nights when the heat rolls down on you like a woman in need. The air quivered with the dead-fish stink of the dock nearby and the sharp tang of fresh rat shit in my alley. My alley lies near the docks in Seattle, just beyond the pretty piers where the tourists gather.

"Pretty goddamn flamboyant, ain't you?" I growled at Moe. The wine went down like battery acid, and my voice was nearly gone.

"Flamboyant? Who you to call a man flamboyant, Mr. Professional Basketball Player?"

"That's what I am —was. Now, cut the crap and tell me what you saw."

I shifted my leg, my one leg. The other was gone, and I'd found out the hard way that with it went speed and power, money, and status. They'd cut off everything I valued when they cut off that leg.

"I saw darkness and delight," the old man crooned as he fumbled at something inside his shirt. "I saw Death and His daughter."

"You mean you saw a pimp and his whore," I corrected, "cruising on Second Avenue. Happens all the time. That's not even worth a shot, let alone half my bottle." I moved a little away from him. Whatever had Moe scratching might have a bite or a sting.

"I know what I saw," Moe said. "I know what I saw."

I shook my head and settled back among the bags of garbage. It was clean garbage —office waste paper and stuff. It crackled with a nice, crisp sound, all that thrown-away work done up in green plastic. Yeah, it was clean; I still had my standards, even if I was a bum.

Funny, that. I used to think of people who lived on the streets as bums, crazies, and druggies. Now, I was one of them. I was still the same man I'd always been; still had the same desires, same needs. Tonight, I needed entertainment. That's what old Moe was supposed to provide. For an old man with no home, no family, no education, and no money; he had quite a reputation among us dwellers in the dark. People told me Moe had stories that scared them so bad, it made their mouths dry and their pants wet. That's pretty hard to do with the bunch that hangs around here on the streets. So, I'd offered to share my bottle with Moe if he'd tell me some stories that would beat the dull-evening blues. So far, all I'd got were dark hints and rambling.

"They was walking down the street," Moe said in his fine and musical voice. "Death, he had on a big hat, like a cowboy hat."

"A Stetson."

"Yeah. One of them. He was dressed fine. He had him a new suit, all white, and a shiny gold shirt. Death had a cane, black with a gold head. Not that he limped, he used the cane, gestured with it, like so."

Moe's hand went out and closed around the bottle. What the Hell, I let him have it. I drank to be sociable and because there was nothing else to do. If that cheap slop would buy me an hour of forgetfulness, old Moe could have a swig. Anyway, I had some real good stuff in my stash, and I wasn't sharing a drop of that with anybody.

"Ah, that's better." Moe wiped the back of his sleeve across his mouth. I could tell by the stains on his shirt that such was his habit. "Now, the daughter, her name that day was Leala."

"Just that day?"

"She changes it all the time," Moe explained, "like a mortal woman changes her clothes. Can't nobody say her real name without her daddy claim him, so she calls herself anything she please. Only trouble is, if a man asks her name, Death's daughter has to tell him."

"Wait a minute," I said. "That sounds like she doesn't want her daddy to catch them."

"Yes. You so right. Who does a woman tell her name to, hey? She tell her lover. But when her lover learn this lady's name, Death take him—on the spot."

"Ah, she suffered from a possessive father."

I knew about those. That's how I lost my leg. Somebody's daddy had a shotgun. Yeah, somebody. Tonight, I couldn't even remember her name.

"That's right. Death wasn't going to lose her to no mortal man. He kept close by her. He kept his hand on her arm when they walked. Leala was a dark girl that day—"

"She changed her color like her clothes, too?"

"Of course, she did. You think only one color of folks die? That day, Leala chose dark."

He paused and drank deeply. His eyes had a far away look, like a young man's eyes feasting on a girl as beautiful as Death's daughter. I shivered. Moe was at least eighty, but I knew then what he'd looked like at twenty.

"Well, then what happened?"

"What happened? When I saw Death's daughter, I fell in love with her, of course. No man who saw Leala could help that. It's the way that sweet child's made. Yes, indeed, she had hair like a sweep of night and eyes like moonlight on water. And her breath had that warm smell that comes off a shot of good whiskey just before you throw him back."

"Wait a minute, how do you know what her breath smelled like? You just saw her walking down the street."

"That was in the morning. I saw Leala, and Leala saw me. And that was all she wrote. Me and Leala snuck away from her daddy. We held hands, we talked, and then we found a quiet place with nobody else around—"

"Are you asking me to believe that an old wino like you—"

"I wasn't no old wino, then, boy. This was a lot of years ago. I was tall then, with a fine, shining face and hard muscles from working on the docks. And I was hung like a bull, too. I tell you, boy, I was like a god then, and I got what a god deserves. Leala loved me. She loved me good.

"We loved all that day and all that night, and then morning came.

"'I have to go now,' sweet Leala say. 'Or my daddy will come looking for me.'

"'But we only had one day and one night together,' I say. 'Stay with me, girl! I'll make you happy every day you live.'

"'I know that, darling man, but I can't stay.'

"So, I thought to myself, if only I know this girl's true name, I can find her again. And I asked the question.

"'Leala, what's your real name? Your true name? I want the name you answer to when your daddy speaks.'

"Then, she look at me with tears in her eyes," Moe said. "And I ask her, 'What's wrong, woman? Why do you weep?'

"Leala say, 'I'm Death's daughter. You ask me my name, and I'm bound to tell. But, soon as you say it, you'll die. Speak my name just once, and my daddy will claim you.'

"'Then, I be silent forever,' I say, 'It never leave my mouth.'

"But Leala looked at me sad, her eyes full of grave-side grief.

'You're mortal, love of my heart. If you hear it, you'll speak; it's the way you're made.

"'Wait then,' I tell her, 'don't speak it. Just write it down. Put it here on this piece of paper, and then fold it up and hide it in your locket.' She wore a fine little gold locket 'round her pretty neck. 'I'll keep that locket on me, but I won't read the paper.'

"Then, Leala, she laughed. She hugged me and kissed me real good. Then she wrote her name down, just like I said, and put it inside that gold locket. Then, she put the locket 'round my neck.

"'Now, darling, you wear this always. And whenever some other man reads my name, you cover your ears when he speaks. My daddy will come for him and not for you. Then, you and I can have another sweet night together.'

"So, I did what she said. See, here it is."

Moe pulled open the plaid wool shirt he wore, then the two cotton shirts, the tee-shirt, the long johns, and finally, there on the wrinkled skin of his neck, lay a beautiful little gold locket. It was as dainty a piece of jewelry as I'd ever seen. The chain was long, and as fine as a hair. The locket itself sparkled with a row of tiny diamonds. I thought I could get at least fifty bucks for it at the pawn shop.

"This is Leala's locket, hey?"

"Sure is," Moe said proudly. "Pretty, ain't it?"

"Yeah. Why don't you take it off, and let me have a closer look?"

"You like it?"

"Sure."

Moe laughed a little. He didn't seem to have any idea what I intended. As for me, I was sweating. Fifty bucks would buy me a bath and a shave. It would buy food and phone calls and, maybe, a way out of this damn alley.

"Let's make a deal," he offered, "you read the name inside, and I'll give you the locket —if you can still take it."

"Read?"

"That's right. You read her name."

This time, I laughed myself. The old fool was working that story for all it was worth. Still, I'd get more for the necklace if the chain wasn't broken. Why not humor him?

"Okay," I said, "it's a deal. Open it up for me."

So, Moe slid his thumbnail behind the tiny catch, and the little golden heart broke open. Carefully, Moe pulled out a yellowed slip of paper and handed it to me.

"Open it and read," he said, smiling as he put his hands over his ears. "Read it out loud."

It occurred to me that he'd probably written some dirty joke on the paper. People around here have that kind of sense of humor. I unrolled the paper and stared at what was written there. It was a lovely name, beautiful, fresh, like the first opening of the buds of spring. I spoke it just to taste the sweetness of the sound on my lips. The name woke an echo, a sound of footsteps nearby.

"Who's there?" I said.

Someone had entered my alley. Well, I think of the place as mine, barren as it is. I raised my eyes and saw a man, a tall man wearing a wide-brimmed Stetson hat. There was a girl behind him. Oh, yes, she was the lady of delights. My heart ached just to look at her; I knew she had to go with that name. Then, Moe stepped forward. Only, he was transfigured, transformed; he was handsome and strong —like a young god. The girl laughed and ran to him. The man with her didn't seem to see her or Moe. He looked only at me.

Death pointed his cane at me, and beckoned.

# The End

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*****

# About the Author

I've been a writer for most of my life, beginning with illustrated stories in grade school, and continuing with works in the science-fiction, fantasy, and horror genres. I live in Seattle with my cat, Baby, who frequently puts paw to keyboard to help with the story.

Thank you for reading my story. I hope you enjoyed it, and that you will take the time to write a review.

Claudette

April 2012

Click here to see my author page for a list of my other stories published on Smashwords.

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