Chapter 9: A Transylvanian Legend

Having slain anger, one sleeps soundly;Having slain anger, one does not sorrow;The killing of anger,With its poisoned root and honeyed tip:This is the killing the noble ones praise,For having slain that, one does not sorrow. - Buddha, "The Connected Discourses of the Buddha"

Zere’maya woke, looking into Zash’s deep, concerned eyes. “Jaqueline? Am I home?”

“No, dear, it’s Zash, you’re in the caravan, we’re far enough from the city so it’s safe for the rest of us to wake you up. We’re stopped at a beautiful, friendly campsite. Everyone’s breathing easier now.” Said Zash. She watched Zere’maya carefully. Would she react like a Giorgio, still angry, or would she react like a Gypsy woman?

Zere’maya looked around their vardo. Karl was not there. It was early yet; she set out to search for him. She thanked Zash, and slipped out the forge door like a fish sliding out a waterfall.

Like a Gypsy, then. Past is past. That didn’t mean that she would allow herself to be put under again, thought Zash. What a strange creature – sometimes familiar, sometimes not – unpredictable which sort of thinking about the world she would do, and in what situation she would choose which. Probably part of why the outsiders were not permitted to marry into Gypsy lines – one –person, in both groups and in fact made into a third, strange thing.

It doesn't take long to find someone in a gypsy caravan. Karl was playing with/training/enjoying the little pulis. Most every caravan Zere’maya had ever seen had had working dogs among them, and usually either crossbreeds, or hurlers, or pulis. Here there were only pulis, the smartest dogs of all.

Karl had them running across the backs of the horses, springing up, turning all kinds of tricks. These dogs were willful and full of mischief, loving, and very practical dogs. Pulis are dogs that laugh; they are also dogs that learn well from each other. Train an older dog and that dog will give the others an understanding of what to do. Each Puli dog was more like having another man in the tribe, a small, bouncy, cheerful man, made up of many cords, like a soft mop of felted cords.

The cleanliness of gypsy life could easily be seen by the pulis -- even one flea would cause them to scratch away their dread locked beauty.

Karl was sweating, and laughing, and ready to sit down by the time Zere’maya found him.

"'Puli' my hair for me, will you please?" Asked Zere’maya. It had been an ongoing back and forth with them -- Zere’maya's hair broke so easily that in Karl's mind it would be easier for her to have it felted like the dogs. After a lot of convincing Karl had been allowed to have his way. Karl sat down on the grass, spread his legs, and Zere’maya sat down between them. She leaned her head forward slightly and Zere’maya could feel Karl's hands working, rolling and rubbing her hair into tiny, fuzzy strands. They had had endless conversations about how big each strand could be and what Karl could work into them. He had been carrying around a pocketful of wide holed beads, collecting them as they had traveled from town to town together. He also had been carrying around a tin can of dressing, always hopeful, happy to be waiting. He started with the back of her neck, and even this early, up where no one would ever see them, she could feel the cold, slick feeling of the first glass bead.

"You see Zere’maya dear, it's just easier to let hair do what it is going to do." Pssshhhwhaaa, his hands rubbing together making quick work of the job. "You can try hard to do what you want or you can do what your hair wants" Pssssshhhwhaaaa "But with style, my dear, with style!"

"The problem," laughed Zere’maya, "Is it's hard to unlock hair once you've started the project, I'll have to have my head shaved if I want to go back again."

Pssssshhhwaaaaaa "Don't mess me up here, I'm on a roll. Yup, this is going to be good. All the women and girls will come to me and I will give them Puli hair, and they will be free to swing their strands around while they dance, and their beads will sparkle in the firelight, you'll see. And besides, you're the woman who untangles human bodies twisted together. If you can coax one flippery twenty-toed leg into two, why in the world do you worry about untangling hair?" He asked, coaxing her into laughter. They both heard the distant sound of the songs around the campfire, and they sang the song together of the kindness of good Queen of Romania, who loved the gypsies so that she gave each family a house, and land and animals. The song became better still as the verses progressed, and the gypsies sold the land, ate the animals, and lived in the houses only sometimes.

"Let me tell you a story," said Karl. I know lots of dragon stories. I collect them. This isn't my story, just ~a~ story, because the rulers of the land are dragons. I don't know how long I was in the egg. Presumably a very, very long time."

"I wonder if you were a little human baby in there, all alone." said Zere’maya.

"I think humanity comes as a gift from other people, even if I looked human I was a dragon then. I don't think the same now. I especially don't think the same now that I'm with you, Zere’maya." He leaned in, hugged her.

"Well, that's what I'm supposed to be, so it makes sense. I'm being who I am supposed to be even if I seem to have lost my avocation." said Zere’maya. "That's something."

Karl looked at her sternly "Do you want to hear my story or not?" Zere’maya nodded and said "Mmmmmm."

Karl's story.

"Well, in our land before we became ruled by the dragons, but were ruled by people there was a queen who wanted children, but she had been married so many years she was ready to despair. She went to the temple and they rejoiced -- they had just the answer. They gave her two magic ears of sweet corn, right from the inner garden, daubed her with pollen and promised her that the first time she lay with her husband after she ate, she would have beautiful twin babies and her heart would be full. They warned her, though, that the corn had to be roasted in the hearth at home, in the shucks, cooked by her own hands, alone.

The queen hurried home with the corn, which smelled delicious. She walked along, but finally could not stand it any more, she peeled back the corn husks and ate a few of the kernels raw. They were like bubbles of sugar, the most delicious food she had ever tasted. Before she knew what she was doing she had eaten one of the ears of corn leaving nothing but the husk.

Ashamed, she threw the husk into the bushes and took the other home and roasted and ate the other ear.

The temple's magic corn worked; she became pregnant and her pregnancy was easy.

When her time came she gave birth first to a beautiful baby boy, small and skinny but healthy and squalling. The second child born was slender too -- and green, scaly -- a baby dragon encased in a soft, leathery shell. She screamed and threw the monster out of the window. It cried and hung around the castle gate, until the very stones wept in pity. The baby boy wept when the dragon wept and could not be consoled.

The dragon child was a daughter, and her brother adored her and protected her -- under his protection and love the twins grew up strong -- and grew up together. When he went to classes, she came along with him. When he went riding she ran along. When she discovered that her wings could carry her into the air, her brother rode along below her screaming with delight. As they grew, he became the first man to ride a dragon, and the dragon princess loved her brother and would not be parted from him. She may have been a monster, but she was known to be wise, and kind, and loyal beyond the nature of humankind. She could not speak but she could write on a wax slate with her great, pointed tongue, and loved to read as much as she loved to fly. She was her brother's most trusted counselor and though their happiness was of a kind never before known, the brother and sister had known no other life and were content to share their kingdom between each other.

When their parents found out that the human brother wished to share his throne with his monster sister, the queen was distraught. The queen returned to the temple. She and her husband could not love their dragon offspring, and begged the temple for a cure.

"You brought this on yourself," said the oracle. 'There is no cure, she will remain as she is, growing stronger and more powerful and all will fear her -- unless you can find a man brave enough to marry her, willing to do so, who loves her as any man would love his human wife."

Grieving, the queen came home and told the prince and the dragon princess. The dragon princess wept because up to then she had never dreamed that it could be possible that she could be human, and now, presented with such an impossible cure she wailed with despair.

No longer a tiny baby dragon, she kept the townspeople back from the castle with her distress; only those who had known the great beast most closely dared to come inside the circle of bellows and shaking ground, deprived of her content, but not her power.

The prince, angry, went to the temple and cursed the oracle. "First that you have brought us to being, now that you have caused us to despise who we are, I demand that you tell us how to please my sister! Is there no other way? And if so, on the love I feel for her tell me how to heal her broken heart. She sulks and cries and now cannot be happy unless she can be human like the rest of us."

The oracle smiled an ugly smile like a muscle twitch, like drying meat. "It is true -- even a prince may not marry his twin sister. But -- with this talisman you can give your love of your sister to any man who will willingly marry her as she is now and allow you free her."

The prince took the talisman and looked him in the eyes. There was hatred there, deep and thick and cold. "Your gifts have been evil and incomplete. Tell me what else is needed for this to be done properly or I swear by my throne that I will level your temple and drive your people from our lands, and let your Goddess do as she likes to me, I lay my life back to her. Your Goddess gave me to my mother -- so let her take me as a thing of her own creation!"

The ground shook and the altar trembled. The oracle looked to his Goddess and fear plunged into his heart. He gave the young prince a knife and whispered instructions into his ear.

The man nodded, and left the temple.

The young man was as small and insignificant a man as his sister was huge and magnificent, but his heart was gentle and warm. He had no lack of friends, even friends as good as this. He traveled to each of his most beloved friends and, in love and trust of the prince one friend agreed to marry the dragon princess. He worried, but even granted his beloved friend entrance into their wedding chamber, hiding in the wardrobe.

The bride towered over her small brother, eyes tightened in confusion. "I cannot marry you my brother."

"I love you, my sister, my spouse, and only by my hand may you be freed. I have searched long for your wedding gift and your husband holds your husk in his hands. As he peels away the layers one by one, I who have always loved you, will prepare you for him. Close your eyes and trust in my love, my sister, my spouse!"

The man in the wardrobe peeled off a leaf and called out. The prince took out the dagger and cut into the dragon, peeling off a great, horny layer of dragon skin. Again and again the man peeled, the prince cut, and the dragon became smaller and smaller.

At the last leaf the bridegroom begged to be released from the wardrobe. He would not fear; he wanted to be there to see his princess, the sister of his beloved friend, the being he had known in monster form. The prince warned him that he must not interfere, and the bridegroom came out.

He gasped in horror as he peeled off the final corn skin. The princess was strong, and beautiful, still marked with scales here and there but the bridegroom fell in love with his princess, loving her. The talisman the temple gave burned him -- he could not bear the weight of his double love, so ripped off the amulet and stomped on it. Realizing his error the bridegroom screamed as the princess knelt before her brother, trembling. He ran to her side to hold her as the prince, once again filled with his love for his sister, made the final plunge, burying the dagger in her neck to the hilt. The bridegroom wept and held her body while the prince peeled off the final dragon skin.

Under the final skin was a woman with hair like corn silk, with skin as smooth and sweet and tender as corn in the milk, the color of the red sweet corn from which her magic came.

The brother and sister embraced as children do, for the first and last time, wetting each others' skin with their tears until the bridegroom dried them both and gently guided his beloved friend and lord out.

The dragon princess showed herself on the balcony with her bridegroom in front of all the people, and those whom had turned down the begging of her brother were as sincerely sorry as human beings can be.

Her husband loved her as a man should love his wife, and his wedding gift to her besides what he had done were her dragon skins, kept safe in the wardrobe, protected from all harm. She could be dragon or woman as she chose, ride the sky with her brother as she desired, and he would stay by her side for all of her days.

Their days were filled with tenderness and love, and all of our dragonkind count their descent from the dragon princess, her twin, and her bridegroom".

Zere’maya looked to Karl with wonder. "That's a beautiful story."
"Thank you," said Karl. "I wonder if it's true, like they say -- that the dragons used to be humans until magic from the temple interfered."

Zere’maya considered that. "A world where Magic works is like having a world where the rules of nature are debatable. Some can be bent, others can be broken. With words, you can change how everything works, and the better you can use words, the further you can change the rules. I have never been in a world where one species can change into another. It would take a massively powerful, very dangerous spell and a user -- most likely a whole collection of users -- of enormous power even on a world where magic flows with ease. Here? I don't see it. It's --- possible. I guess."

"Then in a world where the rules can't be rewritten?" asked Karl. Zere’maya shook her head. 'It's like having a locked room where all the dangerous things are when you are a child. It means that -- the people aren't ready to help with creation enough to make the rules we live by. It's reality, but I try to unlock the locked doors, and prevent doors from being locked. Most of the time I remove the unsafe rule rewriters. Sometimes the people who try to help lose. But whether we can change them or not, the rules are always behind everything. "In the beginning there was the Word and the word was God".

"Why did God make me a dragon who can't be?", asked Karl. Zere’maya shook her head. "Maybe God had a hand with the rules that made you, just like the queen had a hand with having her babies."

They had not noticed one of the young boys sitting next to them.

'I know that you were supposed to be what you are.", he said with finality. "You two are our little monsters. One misbegotten undead vampire woman and one dragon."

Another little girl came up, eyes shining. "Two little monsters sitting in the breeze, k-i-s-s-i-n-g!"
"We want you to be with us forever-and-ever!” the young girl said, dancing around. Zere’maya smiled. "No such thing as alone in caravan, of course."

Chapter 8: The City of Women

Happy is he who lives contented in solitude, is well-versed in the Doctrine and who has realized it. Happy is he who lives in this world free from ill-will, and is benevolent towards all beings. Happy is he who lives in this world free from passion, has overcome sensual enjoyment, and who has attained mastership over the conceit of "I am." This indeed is the highest happiness. - Udana 2.1


By the time Zere’maya woke up the next day Karl had long been up, Ulaanaa had long been up, she was alone in the strange vardo, disoriented and uncomfortable.

The roads were flatter here, probably leading to her sleeping longer. She carefully peeked out the window. She was still riding along beside the river, on the sand. It was mid-day or close to it; there was no way for her to go out without a full veil. Good thing she didn’t need a bathroom, ever, she thought, rinsing her mouth out with water, careful not to swallow any. Her skirts were hanging up – she dug through them and took out her equipment, bit by bit, making the day’s log, trying all of the different switches and commands to see if there was any improvement in function.

It was a little like trying to find a just-barely there UHF signal – sometimes the snow would seem to have an image when it didn’t, sometimes she would miss an image that was there, but didn’t quite make sense unless she thought back about it. It was an old routine, like worrying an old scar.

Zere’maya was so busy working away she didn’t notice Zash coming in behind her.

“Hello, teacher.” Said Zash pleasantly. “B’waaagghhhh!” was more or less Zere’maya’s reply.

“It’s amazing how interesting you find those things.” Said Zash.

“Well, I’m going to be locked up for the day. Might as well have something entrancing to do. It’s either that or wait until Karl comes in with my charge-up. Do something or wait? Not much of a decision to make.” Said Zere’maya, settling in again.

“You might want to look out the window instead of looking at your tools.” Said Zash.

“I can do both now – I think – check it out! “ Zere’maya held her toy out in front of a white bowl of sand. The sand rose up and formed the sights all around them, in color. Zere’maya zoomed in, zoomed out, turned around. In the bowl of sand was a minature stream bed, miniature vardos, all seen as if Zere’maya was standing above them.

“That’s what you might be able to see from well above the vardo. How are you doing that?” asked Zash.

“I have a probe flying about 300 feet above us. It works the same way as the medical probe I use to see inside people’s bodies. I modified a 3d ultrasound and I’m using a reflector dish to keep it suspended up there. I can’t go out in the daylight, so I can see though this sandreader.”

“A lot more pleasant to look at than the inside of Ulaanaa.” Commented Zash.

“This is more a test. If I can float a probe, maybe I can alter the curve and send a beam upwards, sort of a signal flare, let people know where I am.” Said Zere’maya.

“And somehow it’s powered by the metal rod you have dragging along from the pan box.” Said Zash, bemused. Zere’maya nodded. “All magic is is technology you don’t understand – yet. To you this is still magic. Karl has got the concept down. Take some time with him and try to have him give you the concepts. Then we can do some demonstrations.”

Zere’maya sat up very straight. “Oh. My. God.” The two of them looked as the shape of a parapat came into view, then a long, dishshaped platform on three legs, then the jumble of human houses built one on top of the other inside of a gleaming rock wall.

“The city’s inside of a dragon stronghold? Impossible!” The sand came crashing down. Zere’maya held out her two hands, embracing the image now made of sparkling dust. Zash covered her nose and mouth careful not to disperse the dust. Zere’maya turned the image in her hands, then peeled away the layers. Inside she could see like the insides of an ant farm hundreds, maybe thousands of people working, going about their business in tight quarters. Zere’maya cocked her head. Zash put her hand out, and inside the cup of her hand the mirror on the mountain formed, reflecting light deep into the city.

Gently Zere’maya blew on the casting sand, raising more dust, clarifying the image. Gradually the image grew larger and more focused, moving around inside the walled city.

“Wow! Do you think they know we can spy on them like this?” asked Zash.

“I’m not seeing anything that could sense me, so, probably not. And I’m not quite believing what I’m seeing here. I can’t be sure with the figures so tiny, but I see women and girls – there don’t seem to be any men figures anywhere I’m looking.” Said Zere’maya.

“Try looking in the temple.” Said Zash. She pointed very carefully, moving slowly to not blow away the dust image. Zere’maya moved in that direction. And quickly backed out. Zash laughed.

“Men wouldn’t like to know women can see them in the public baths.” She chortled.

“All right then. Put your hand down and light up some incense – I need something finer to bring out the image. And a lot more of that. This is a dragon estate – but why are there people living in there?”

“People have been living in there for as long as we’ve been here – ten generations and more. I don’t know if the people there know that’s a dragon lair.” Said Zash, lighting a brazier.

Zere’maya gave a low whistle. “I sure hope the dragon lords don’t come back soon. They would not like to see what’s become of their real estate. Now tell me if you know where a hospital or clinic might be. Maybe I can buy some chloroform, or better, there’s someone there who can repair Ulaanaa’s wounds and I can concentrate on helping here heal faster. They’ll have a hard time understanding how she’s lived without eating or drinking ---“

“Much” cut in Zash.

“I didn’t hear that.” Said Zere’maya.

“You’re just grouchy because you can’t eat or drink anything.” Teased Zash.

“Yes. Hold that brazier – yes. Good.”

“Shouldn’t I be learning to do that? I am your apprentice.” Said Zash.

“Fine. Take my hand. “ Said Zere’maya. Zash did, feeling the strange, draining tingle.

“Is that dragon energy I’m tasting?” asked Zash.

“Straight from the source. Gently, it’s powerful stuff.” Said Zere’maya. The image exploded into tiny fireworks, then the image melted away.

”I think you are going to have to deal with your feelings for Karl.” Said Zere’maya firmly. I found a clinic. You go cajole Ulaanaa into going there and maybe getting someone else to do the ow part. Talk to Mother Faa for payment. I’ll work on bringing up the image again. I can’t leave the vardo, at least let me do my work.” Said Zere’maya firmly.

“Should I bring Mother Faa in to see this?” asked Zash.
“Sure. Good idea. “ said Zere’maya. She didn’t look up as Zash, chastened, left the vardo.

Zere’maya left her feeling so vulnerable, like she was going to cry. She looked back at the vardo. Even the few nights had brightened the paint. Zash touched the railing lightly – the paint bent, then glued back on. Where there was no paint Zere’maya’s magic would pull the elements out of anything close, make new paint.
Zash’s gypsy magic could do something like it. She kicked the wire sticking out of the bottom of the vardo, and looked up. If there was a “probe” there, it wasn’t something she could see.

Mother Faa was walking down the caravan, looking grim.
“You know that hurt.”
“I am trying to control, I have to learn.” Sulked Zash.
“Every time you lose control you cause pain to everyone in the caravan who is connected. You can’t simply assume that we will continue to bear the pain of connection as you learn.” Said Mother Faa.

“What do you want me to do?” pleaded Zash. “Mother says to just give it up. Give up magic. I don’t think that will help me.” Mother Faa shook her head.
“You live with me because my daughter’s inner eye is blind, her inner ear is deaf. She can’t understand what she is asking. Forgive her.” She replied.

“You’re blaming the wrong people. It’s not that she doesn’t understand the pleasures of magic.” Said Zash.
“No, it’s because you understand the pleasures of men, now. You are no longer a child in that way.” Said Mother Faa.
“Karl and my relationship is innocent. We have not tried to do anything!” replied Zash.
“He doesn’t want to do anything, which protects you, child. He’s not even human. You know this.” Said Mother Faa.
“Then maybe I want to be more than human, like Zere’maya is.” Challenged Zash.

“Don’t blame Zere’maya for the changes in your desires or I will send you back to your mother.” Warned Mother Faa, “Your desires have been plain to anyone since you were small. They are just – maturing now.”

“Old enough to have desires, young enough to be passed around like a bundle?” stated Zash.

“Powerful enough to have the weaker magic users still smarting, who will not tolerate this and will banish you from shared power.” Said Mother Faa.

The two women stood looking at each other. Zash turned away first. ”I won’t poison the common well.” She finally said, ashamed.
“Good girl. Now get ready for your fun.” Said Mother Faa. Zash smiled and ran off.

Mother Faa was able to enter Zere’maya’s vardo as unperceived as Zash had been. Zere’maya had gone back to the sand bowl and was watching a pair of dancers. Mother Faa smiled and walked close to her.

“I’m supposed to be looking for a hospital or clinic for Ulaanaa, but the water and the people ---“ Zere’maya sighed. “There’s a universe out there where I couldn’t find enough people to patronize a public baths on most worlds. Humans are too few. Even humanoids – beings that look sort of like and are roughly human sized – most worlds I’ve visited haven’t been human worlds as such, and the idea of a hot, mineral or saltwater bath right now ---- “ she drew a ragged breath.

“I’ve wanted to see the city through your eyes. I’ve always taken this route, every three years again and again. This is just my world.” Said Mother Faa. Zere’maya understood.

“Like a person who has always lived in New York City has to get a tourist to go up to the top of the Empire State Building or the Statue of Liberty. Yep, I get it.” Said Zere’maya. She welcomed Mother Faa with an eye gesture. The old woman laid her hand beside the bowl, then pressed in. With her skill the image jumped is size and detail.

“Nothing to beat experience, though. You’re very strong.” Said Zere’maya.

“I started with tea leaves, like everyone else. Now we can both see – you tell me what you understand from what you see.” Said Mother Faa.

“Well, since I’ve been a dragon personally – visiting dragon worlds being a dragon is easier – I can see that this whole structure used to be a dragon’s house – a community meant for a dragon home group of 20-40 individuals. There are all the signs that dragons built this, but inside human beings have built a city of their own. I see women, from babies to the very old everywhere. I saw a few men in a structure Zash identified as a temple – few signs of being like a church of an Earth sort. More like a public hotel, bordello, and bank all rolled into one. I’m guessing something like 2500 people from what I’ve seen, no boy children, and at most a hundred men. Very skewed gender ratio. Everyone seems pretty content though – rather like looking at a marketplace. “

“The people of the cities don’t have much use for men. They’ll talk a good game about how men are just as good as women, and that boys are as welcome as girls, but when women choose to become pregnant they have the ability to decide what they’ll have – and only the most wealthy women have sons.” Said Mother Faa. “Some outlying cities are very plain about it and close to no women choose boy children.”

Zere’maya thought about that. “I don’t know about people on all worlds – I only know a few human worlds. Most choose not to ovulate or cycle more than the minimum for good health. Some use magic, some use science. I don’t remember another world where men are selected against.”

“No one would say that they are selecting against sons. Just – every time they want to be mothers, they have daughters first. Then a spare daughter. And then if they get around to having a third child, maybe then a boy. Since few women have three or more children, you can see that “an heir and a spare” means sons are not very common, and much more common in the major cities, less common where the quality of life is lower. We’re still far from the main cities where you’ll see many more boys and men.” Said Mother Faa.

“Cities are often where people are saner, better behaved. I wonder how this all cam to be?” Asked Zere’maya. “People will often stay with the same, and you tell me that there has been three hundred years of your time. You say these cities have been here since long before you came here.” Mother Faa nodded. “We still remember how we came here. These people don’t remember Earth, or ever living anywhere else. They think that this cold world is all there is.”

“They can run big cities, in these cold worlds? That’s something, maybe their way works well enough for them.” Said Zere’maya.

“There are a few other peoples who live on this world, mostly in areas that don’t interest the Alallians. It should be interesting to see what would happen if the ice age they know would melt back, returning the oceans, making enough easily survivable land. No one here can just survive. You’ve noticed how our wagons are different.” Said Mother Faa. Zere’maya nodded.

Steel vardos with multiple layers of wool to shield the families, and so much else packed – before you learned how to live in this climate the Gypsies must have suffered.” Said Zere’maya.

“The land was warmer then – still cold, but we have had time to learn. The Allelieans had – uses for us. And of course, there are the hot springs. Other people didn’t amuse the Allelieans so much. They have had a much harder time of it. Ulaanaa’s people, for example. We are people who smell of water, who bathe. As the land grows colder Ulaanaa’s people have less and less of an edge to hold on to, soon perhaps – as you’ve heard, many who live outside the cities expect that their children will live within them. There is little hope left for a worldwide spring.” Said Mother Faa.

“The people keep on reclaiming land, though, if people are who they usually are. People like a nice steady mild temperature. At least around themselves.” Said Zere’maya.

“All true. That’s the lure of the hot springs, among others. The dragons need even more heat than humans do. An abandoned dragon holt would be an ideal home for humans, at least if the world does not continue to cool.”

Zere’maya’s eyes opened wide. “I ------ see. You’re preparing Zash to be able to Jump the Creek, if need be.”

“And her mother, and all the others after me can’t. Her mother is completely giftless. Zash is the only one with the power needed to find us another world if the ice ages close in. We out of the three caravans have the only child with even the potential, and she loves a dragon. There can be no children. We will be on this world with no help of our own if the weather closes in and the ice walls override the spine of the world, the last places warm enough for human beings to live.” Said Mother Faa.

“Pray for global warming.” Said Zere’maya. Then she looked down.
“If I was here to rescue you – I’ve failed you. I can keep myself alive through feeding on Karl, but every time I feed, something else breaks inside of me – slowly, imperceptibly. I’m not healing, just dying slower. Eventually I won’t be able to do that either. I wish it were not so, Mother Faa.”

“I wish I could heal you, or call for your people. We will all do what we can. To hide your magic and preserve your strength I will conceal you while we are inside the city. That will buy you time, as well as lower the risk for the others we must hide among us.”

“Great. After all these years I’ve found myself on Womyn’s Music Festival Planet and I’m going to spend my time in the city unconscious? “ replied Zere’maya. Mother Faa sighed.

“I’ll talk to the men and see if we can do better in the next city. Part of the problem you are for us is that you are a “daughter of Egypt”. Yes, Zash has spoken to me of this. This is my world – I know what will and what will not attract notice. This time you must stay concealed.”

“I’m going to a nearly all-woman world and I’ll be setting off their “gaydar”? What kind of women are these people?” Asked Zere’maya.

“No time.” Said Mother Faa simply. Zash came in the door. And blanched at the sight of Zere’maya and mother Faa staring each other down.

“Girls! All this for a hot shower?” asked Zash, trying to make a joke.
“Yes!” said Zere’maya and Mother Faa at the same time.

“I’ll discriminate against myself if I’m good. I’ll maintain myself in sleep, my magic undetectable. I miss out on what contact with other mad scientists or sorcerers there are out there, and I’m going to sleep through it. “

Zash made a wry face. “A universe full of possibilities and you whine at a little prejudice. You’re right, you haven’t been around human beings for a long, long time.”

Zere’maya dropped the sand out of the air. It hit with a clump. “All right – then when?”

“Then now. We’ll rouse you when we’re well through and in safe surroundings again.”

Zere’maya looked from one to the other. “It’s all the choice I have. Zash. You have been taught?” Zash nodded. “Make sure Karl charges me up regularly.” Zash walked up to her – so few steps in a vardo – and kissed her forehead. Zere’maya fell.

“I wish I could do that to Ulaanaa.” Said Zash.
“No one can. Ulaanaa has no magic. Only someone connected through Power can be lulled – and only through consent. I hated to ask her. She was as awful about it as I thought she would be.” Said Mother Faa. They carefully wrapped Zere’maya’s body, disguising her for the next week among the sacks of coal in Karl’s forge.

“I wish I could take her curse, free her.” Said Zash.

“If you did have that ability you’d have her Jinn riding you, and you would find yourself with a pile of dust instead of a teacher. Sometimes the answers aren’t easy.” Said Mother Faa.

Karl was at the head of the caravan waiting for Mother Faa and her husband. The entire caravan was stretched out behind them. He nodded to Mother Faa; she nodded in return. There was no one they could see observing them outside the doors. Karl walked to the front of his forge vardo and removed a large panel. He mounted his horse and rode up to the gate. He stood on his horses’ back and pressed the panel into the wall.

“Dragons are a lot bigger than me, usually.” He said softly to his horse. Soundlessly the gate dropped into the ground.

Karl stood at the side door, watching each caravan come in, one by one, single file. Most dragons entered from the sky, of course. There was room for humans to come through the human gate, flush to the ground. His key opened all the gated cities. It also closed them.

By the time the last caravan had passed by them the city mayor had walked up.

“Welcome lord dragon. You should be riding at the head of the procession. At least I can close the gates for you.” The woman was tall, a head taller than Karl at least – and after three months’ rough going what stood out most about her was how healthy she looked. And, how rested. He smiled tightly.

“The least I can do is close your storm doors for you.” He walked over to the wall, impressed his shield, and the great doors swung shut. Even Karl’s ears popped at the change in air pressure. Delicately balanced, those great doors could shut out sandstorm and cascading ice from the great mountains around them. Open they also let in the cold. Gradually the heat and humidity would build up again here. The last few miles had been particularly hard – even his own horse was trembling from the strain of altitude and weather.

“We have one member from the salt flats we’ll have to watch for altitude sickness. She’s never left the was-oceans. She also has an injury related to childbirth. Please tend to her needs specifically. She doesn’t speak your language, isn’t a quick learner. Please allow her to have a gypsy interpreter at her side. There is one, a tall, after-midnight skinned girl with blue-black hair. She’s the granddaughter of this caravan’s king and queen and likely next leader. She’s going to try to take an unfair number of shifts as her interpreter. Please do what you can to encourage her to enjoy her time in this city for herself. Every time she’s been here she’s had a great deal of work to do – for once she should just enjoy like everyone else.”

“Do you – have interest in her?” asked the mayor. Karl shook his head.

“I am not interested in humans that way. She’s a good friend and like a little sister. She’s dear to me above the rest because she’s smart. Scary smart. I can talk to her. I’d like her to relax and enjoy herself for the week.” replied Karl. The mayor smiled, full cheeks making her look like a ruffled pink tomato.

“Enjoyment we can do. Subtle redirection of those who overwork we can do. Glad to please, lord.”

“And please – when referring to me to the gypsies and in front of them, please address me as Karl or Karli. The gypsies have a different social order and I will be maintaining myself in that order once we leave. I would find it unpleasant if a ‘lord dragon’ slipped out with them. Please respect my wishes on this matter.” Said Karl. The mayor nodded.

“One more thing – many of the women will wish to wear a necklace with a small knife on it.” Karl reached into his pocket and showed the mayor an example. “This is a symbol of protection of others, and please allow them to wear these. I’ve taken an interest in metal-working; many of the children’s knives were made by me and as usual, the children who were not born gypsies will cling to this symbol of belonging – it’s important to them. If you are interested, the dark-haired, dark-skinned tall girl wears one of my earliest examples. I’m not sure what name she will choose to use among you, but she will be wearing a red-gold knife with blue stone with gold flakes in it – lapis.”

The Mayor made a face. “I think I know the one you mean. She has used the name “Marie” previously.”

“Just about all the young girls call themselves that. She’s beginning to be an adult now, she’s likely to choose an adult name. I’ve suggested a few, but it’s her choice.”

“It’s confusing. How could anyone keep changing names like that?” said the Mayor. Karl shook his head.

“I understand what they want by doing this, but I’d have to take a few weeks to lay the groundwork for you to understand why. Consider a name to be like an article of clothing – taken on and put off without affecting the person wearing the clothing. And worn by more than one person, to be given away and even taken away as a punishment. A name is not an identity. It’s not wrong, but it’s a different way of looking at things.” Said Karl.

The Mayor sighed. “Well, they’ll be trading in the city as they always have, they’ll be staying in the public square as they always have, we have their campgrounds set up for them as they have been for long before you rode with them. They love the baths as much as we do, so they’re welcome to trade here.”

Karl and the mayor looked at the band. Unspoken and unneeded was – we’re glad when they come and that’s because they always go, and quickly. Karl knew that the same welcome was his – as long as he was headed elsewhere, he could expect welcomes. No gypsy in known history had ever settled in an Alleliean city – some in the settlements outside, but never within the walls.

Karl stuck his hands in his pockets and went walking after the gypsy men and women, gathering together, off to the baths.

This was a high point of travel. He overheard one man saying to another “I once heard a salt flats man complain that no one was allowed inside unless they had bathed!” and heard the laughter in response.

The men gathered together, entered the baths as a tight cluster. They headed through the main doors and into a smaller changing room. They left their clothes in neat piles, and filed into the soaping rooms. Each man washed himself, and helped any child clinging to them clean themselves, carefully washing under fingernails, soaping each other’s back, using as much of the rich soap provided as they needed. There was a young woman with a hose of hot water who stared at the row of naked men – she had apparently never seen so many men in one spot. Just out of eyeshot the gypsies’ clothes were taken, and would be returned at the other end washed, and, if needed, mended.

Another woman carefully looked over each man, then gave them a token to wear around one ankle – they would be wearing this for the duration of the visit.

Then one by one they were given a towel (which they wrapped around their hips immediately) and they entered the main baths.

The baths were a huge, echoing chamber, filled with loud voices and just about every different kind of human being – as long as they were female. The sides of the cavern were filled with little shops offering food, drink, places to stay, and several different bands with different, clashing music styles. There was a row of jets of water coming out of the wall, and around the perimeter was an artificial brook, filled with people paddling around, some on floats, some walking or swimming. Different pools had signs advertising the delights of salted water (several different sorts) mineral baths (several different sorts) and pools of different temperatures and depths. Well above them were more pools, more levels. The entire cavern was sculpted to look like a narrow alpine valley somehow containing warm to hot water instead of cold. There were many waterfalls and slides and one off to the side, had people, mostly young and children who were surfing on the stone. Staying on the top of the water on a long board, under pictures of whales, octopuses, and other deep sea creatures.

“None of the people here wonder why they love to surf and love ocean creatures on a world with no oceans?” asked a young gypsy boy.

“The people here think that their own oceans used to look like this. They even have aquariums in some of the larger cities with salt-water animals in them, waiting for the time when the oceans will refill and then the people can restock them. They think this is Earth. They don’t know how far away they are. How they came to be here long before we did when they left Earth fifty years after we did, that’s still a little fuzzy to me. But they were here to greet us, when the weather was warmer and the living was easier.”

Karl and the younger children were vaguely uncomfortable with being in a room with hundreds of naked women and girls, and here and there another man. The older men were finding the situation more difficult and migrated to a pool off to one side, apparently less favored.

The younger boys saw the other children and Karl jogged along behind them. One of the more uncomfortable issues in his life could be left behind by leaving the men and returning with the children. He simply didn’t feel as they did. He wondered what men were supposed to feel, what that would be like, then discarded it. Too humiliating, especially in a playground like this.

The women had readied for being around their own men – their towels were wrapped around their heads, with the older women’s towels covering their faces leaving their eyes uncovered. When he was much younger he had seen them in places like this with their towels turbaned around their heads, ready to cover if the men from the caravan or other strange men saw them.

It wasn’t much of a disguise, just an official “I’m not here for you to look at me.” Signal. If just he was there the towels would be over their arms or piled by their sides, like with the other women and girls all around them.

One of the first people he saw was Zassh – familiar, even with the swirling turban. Her attitude was graceful, more like the women all around them. Karl frowned, looked around. Dark, really dark skins like hers were common around here. Most of the gypsies were from as pale as he was through assorted reddish and yellow undertoned tans. Zassh on the other hand was a really brown girl, brown like tiger eye with a fresh application of sweet oils on her skin.

They exchanged greetings, then, Karl smiled.
“You see something you like?” asked Zassh.

“Oh yes.” Replied Karl. “Something I’ve never noticed. See the little kids?” Karl knelt, showed each arm and leg. He then put one hand on his own leg and charm, then on Zassh’s. Zassh shivered a little, then settled.
“Yes?” she asked.
“Little kids don’t have to wear a pool tag. They don’t check little kids coming in again. We’re going to bring them in to eat lunch, and when we do we’ll have more than twelve of them.” Said Karl.
“And?” asked Zassh, confused.
“We can hide in the mouth of the wolf. We can conceal two very unhappy little girls in the middle of a mob like this – because people can only count to twelve. That’s why we count eleven twelve, thirteen fourteen. As long as we have a large enough group and act natural we can have one more head than we have sets of feet – and then Inchkin and Aruin can enjoy all of this!” said Karl. Zassh’s eyes widened, “Karl, you’re amazing!”

They began to talk, and plan out all the tricks, and amusements, and other ways that the two of them could have fun and push the boundaries here.

Karl would be sleeping back beside Zere’maya each night, keeping her alive, but for a whole week they would be working together minding the children, shopping, entertaining.

As it had in every city they had visited together for almost two years, Zassh held out hope that this time Karl would notice her, choose her, be hers. Maybe now. Maybe even tonight.

Chapter 7: Farming

"Those who love peace must learn to organize as effectively as those who love war." - Martin Luther King

You find out that your protector is a dragon. What do you do next?

Well, you do next what you would have done next. It's not like it's easy to put a handle on the moment, and everything looks exactly the same. Karl was the same Karl, when they came back into the campsite it was Zere’maya's turn to clean up with the group of young women Mother Faa had assigned her to. And how do you bring up the subject? You knew that Karl was a dragon? You knew that I didn't know for how long? It was impossible, and there really wasn't any choices coming out of it. Zere’maya scrubbed horse tackle and watched the other groups washing children, washing clothing.

Did Ulaanaa really understand that Zere’maya was from another world? If she did know would that change anything?

Zassh found Zere’maya with her devices on the table, staring into them.

“Good morning, what’s up?” she asked.

“Good morning. You knew that Karl isn’t human. Were you planning to tell me anytime soon?” asked Zere’maya.

“I don’t think of him that way.” Pleaded Zassh.

“This isn’t about love affairs, this is about the fact that despite anything I can do with my equipment, there are other sentient beings on this world besides human beings. Karl reads human – unless I have my hands on him while holding the equipment. That’s one kick-ass spell, or serious technology however you look at it. And I’ve been drawing off the energy from a camouflaged dragon for months without even noticing. That’s wrong, wrong, wrong, and bad. Karl’s avatar – think of him like a hand puppet – is connected with tons of dragon, and I’ll be darned if I can figure out where. No one can hurt him because you can’t hurt the person by damaging the sock puppet.” Said Zere’maya firmly. She continued to push buttons and look at the instruments with a periodic “damn” under her breath.

Zassh sighed. “Then the sock puppet is all of Karl that Karl knows he has. We’ve got to respect that.” Zere’maya nodded.

“Oh, I am. You know what? Three hundred years of earth history or no, human beings are a tiny minority out there. There are hundreds of dragon worlds, not that I can talk to them. Human beings are unique among the intelligences – do you know what they call us?” she asked Zassh. Zassh shook her head.

“The nakeds. Every other species of intelligent life has some sort of built-in armory – usually some kind of big guns. That’s why we have reports of wookies and werewolves, dragons and horrible monsters – the universe is filled with people who believe that an armed society is a polite society. Whether it’s spitting acid or being born with tactical nukes up your butt, most everybody but us can defend themselves -- with overkill.”

“I understood some of the words you are saying” replied Zassh, shaking her head.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m raving. I am scared and when I’m scared I have to do something, so I am going to go shopping in the next town. I need to make some general anesthetic for Ulaanaa. Maybe I can’t fix what’s wrong with this world but I know how to make repairs on her body.” Said Zere’maya.

“Ulaanaa doesn’t like you.” Said Zassh.

“No, Inchin doesn’t like me. Aruin despises me, and Ulaanaa thinks I’ve stolen her children’s affections which makes her just about angry enough that she could slit my throat and be sorry she could only kill me once. And I don’t really blame her for that, she’s had a hard life. That’s not my problem. My problem is that I’m a healer, and if I were her and the devil incarnate could get me back to using my usual openings instead of having everything come out of my most sensitive area, I’d let the devil do her work. I just am not enough of a devil to do it while she’s strapped down to a table feeling everything, the way I had to do with her daughters.” Said Zere’maya.

“We do have tincture of cannabis.” Said Zassh.

“Yes, and I’ve made up several edible oil based topical ointments, as well as prepared some more honey and sugar for her sores. This is like the bowel issues – serious pain. I’m going to go in with as much protection for her as I can, and I’m going to train you how to make and administer chloroform.” Said Zere’maya. “Cannabis would make her more hungry and thirsty than she is. She’s just about healed up enough so that if I could approximate and join some of her tissues she could go back to at least a liquid diet. I haven’t eaten since I got here, it’s halfway driving me crazy, and I wouldn’t wish what I’m feeling on anyone, even someone who wants me dead.”

Zassh looked at Zere’maya and smiled.” I’m glad you’ve got your memories back.”

“Only some of them. Head injuries – usually memories close to the time of the injury are the last to come back – when they do at all. I still have no clue what I came here to do, but at least I know that I have a spaceship to find, a lab inside it, and probably more information. I hope whoever hurt me isn’t driving my motor home, playing with my tools. They’re probably safer than whatever that person or persons were doing, or maybe whoever I was supposed to find managed to blow themselves to kingdom come, but anything that would have killed my ship would have spiked a poor soft little ‘naked’ like me to component atoms, this whole situation doesn’t make sense.”

Zassh was sitting happily at Zere’maya’s feet when Karl came in.

“Is she still going on like that?” he asked Zassh.

“About as fast as her lips can move. If you let your mind wander it’s sort of like a form of music. Or birds in the morning. Really angry, territorial birds. At least she’s punching buttons instead of pacing.” Replied Zassh.

“I think better when I’m walking or talking, or both.” Replied Zere’maya defensively. “My mission and the fate of my spaceship are so out of my control that there’s no point in worrying, but this I can do something about. I can at least fail at something.”

Karl smiled at Zassh. “You’re right. She does sound rather like birds chirping.”

At that moment off in the distance the lonely sound of a freight train, far away. Zeremaya shivered, pleased. There were tracks leading from main city to main city here, but no proper roads. Maybe in areas where some great civilization had risen and fallen there might be some, but here nothing, nothing but crushed grass and ridges on a long prairie walk.

“We’re finally getting somewhere.” Zere’maya said. “Maybe there will be a hospital where they can repair Ulaanaa, and I won’t have to play “My li’l chemistry kit”. I’d like that.”

“Goodie.” Replied Karl.

The final approach to the city was as it would be in any of a thousand worlds. First, a few scattered farms, here and there. Follow the beaten path, come up. Stop the caravan obligingly for any passers-by, hope that they spread the word. Stop again to sharpen a few knives, buy food, share news of the outside.

The caravan turned in to a farm drive marked in time-honored fashion with a smiling cat, hidden along the fence post, marking the way. Zere’maya remembered cats. She also remembered that they tasted much like rabbit, the only way you could tell is that the bones were thinner, and quite a bit flatter.

The family came running out to meet them. Their house, Zere’maya could see, was a modern type, the sort brought on a railroad car from a distant city, assembled from pictures, bought from a catalog.

She looked over and saw the family outhouse, neat, clean, chicken house off of one side of it, of the same type, made to match the house, like a playhouse sized version of the same.

A thousand worlds, a thousand skies, but much the same -- humans have rectums, they eat, make love, make babies, make waste. As we travel from world to world we bring what is vital to us with us. Zere’maya could see from here the pond where her adopted family would be camping.

Zeremaya wondered, briefly, if these people too were dragons, or something else she had never seen before walking around with a human face on, then let it drop.

If they were taking form, this was the form they wanted to show, and Zere’maya for one would respect that.

Then Zere’maya jumped for joy -- another sight well known to the worlds traveler, popping up rarely enough to be delightful and precious to her heart – Zere’maya saw the beehives.

The people of the farmhouse had been preparing for them and the campsite was beautifully spread, swept, ready for dancing.

In the back of their minds -- in the back of all of the minds of the people old enough to understand -- were the unfriendly people, who also shared the world, who could be there. There was no answer to them, none but the answer Zere’maya had always known -- resist not evil. Attract it not with paying attention to it. Never feed it, and always be friendly to those who were friends to The People. To accept, open hand, those who were good -- to teach the children not to flinch when evil was given, just a subtle mark on the fence -- stay away.

No, no cats on the menu today, a fine roasted ox waiting for them in trade for the fabrics they brought for them, their gossip, and their storytelling.

The woman of the house brought out socks to mend, and, Zere’maya gladly sat down beside her to turn heels and add reinforcements to toes. Always work available for those willing to earn their keep, Zere’maya thought. Not always pretty, or fancy, but if anyone has skills and searches, someone will need you. Or, you can find someone to teach you new -- someone with work going begging.

Much to her delight Mother Faa had let her wear her own clothing again. Her hands moved easily though the material, her crochet hook moving over the stone egg she had brought herself, deep in her pockets when she arrived on the planet. That was another reason why she liked always to dress as she did -- deep slits in the skirts lead to pockets in her underskirts, so she could carry a great deal with her balanced neatly on her center of gravity, supported by her thick leather belt.

Better by any measure than a purse. Deep within her pockets she carried a traveler's safe keeping kit -- items both mundane, like fire starters and arcane, like magical carrying bags, giving her the ability to bring with her items far larger and heavier than even her full skirts could conceal.

One of the first tasks Zere’maya had had was to check to see which of her items worked on this world, which could not draw on the power available, the same task any Earth international traveler has checking to see which electrical adapter was needed to jack into the local power.

Zere’maya was still puzzled by the disinclination effect, and made a plan as she worked to make a list of every item, numbered, then check them one by one by number to see if rather than her tools being broken somehow she had been simply disinclined to use one of them.

The magic she could detect here was clearly of low quality and not particularly easy to use -- one of the daughters of the house here had some hedge-magic and had set up a projection spell, hanging glowing over the fire and made up of its heat, most likely. The music being played at the campfire could be heard anywhere on the farm, never louder, never softer, set delicately at a level that allowed people to talk over the music and conversation at the fire pit carried to every gathering place.

For a while Zere’maya had pulled away from the party to go off to the barn, to milk the goats with the oldest girl, and be away from the bright colors, away from the intensity.

Even the goats seemed to be enjoying the music, some even swaying back and forth with the open-mouthed enjoyment their kind is disposed to.

When she knelt down to milk the doe sampled one of her new corded locks, chewing it thoughtfully, then deciding that this sort of hair was no better than any other person's. Zere’maya laughed and petted her. The goat nuzzled her back, gave a shuddering sigh, and to Zere’maya's satisfaction let down her milk for her.

It's a myth that a cow "gives milk", a cow, a goat, or any other sort of milking animal. Not only do you have to work for every drop you get, you also have to develop a relationship, a habit with them. If you cannot, it comes a lot easier for the lacrimoniously inclined flirt. Even a dairy animal likes to have a baby to care for now and then.

Zere’maya milked her dry, laid her hand on the goat's side, and as personal thanks she disrupted the lives of all her intestinal parasites. Zere’maya had gained a great deal of control since the first day, and could barely feel the loss of power. She stroked the animal again, feeling her inside, feeling her barely begun pregnancy. Two tiny heartbeats. She stretched her magic again. Two tiny girls, far from ready to come into the world but at least they would live for a time inside a mother who would be stronger.

Zere’maya got up, poured the goat's milk into the cooling container in the well, moved over to milk the big Jersey cow. Zere’maya laid her head on the animal, soaking up her warmth, soaking in the cow's power, being the cow's baby, being what the cow needed, as the cow, now, gave Zeremaya her milk and so much more.

Sated, feeling sleepy and peacefully contented she was found by the farm woman sleeping with her head against the warm skin of the cow. She had at least remembered to pour out the milk, Zeremaya remembered gratefully. She smiled up at the woman.

"Bit of a farm girl in you, eh?" The woman smiled. She held out her hand and Zeremaya took it, pulling to her feet.

"Oh yes. I grew up on a farm." Zeremaya corrected herself. "A hobby farm. My family all had town jobs, but we still kept our goats and an assortment of other animals, different types at different times, over the years."

The woman nodded. "My children have jobs in town. It's only a matter of time -- I mean, we bought the house and everything not realizing -- but we know our children's children won't grow up here. I'm probably the last of the farm keepers. It's sad, really."

"We shall see. What will be is what will be." said Zeremaya, still in her happy afterglow. The woman cocked her head.

"As if there were some other way possible, you talk." She rubbed her hands on her skirt, as if brushing off dirt.

"I'm Antalya." said the woman. " Zere’maya." Zere’maya answered. "And of all the treasures you have, of all I hope to see and hunger for, it's the bees. Please tell me that you are the beekeeper!"

The women walked out to the bee yard, talking of their mutual love and Antalya sharing her love for her hobby. She grabbed a couple of amulets off of the barn door, hung one over Zere’maya's neck and took the other for herself.

The hives were long barrel shapes, filled with rounded framed comb, built to suit the bees and very conveniently low and long for the working of women beekeepers -- as Zere’maya had both guessed and hoped for. Antalya explained about how each half-circle of pressed wax fit neatly into the barrel, deep in the center and narrowing out like a great honeycomb slice of watermelon. One section of the hive had only top bars, and Antalya explained that this area was always built primarily with drone comb, this way she could conveniently thin out the unproductive males -- as well as produce the larvae which she could sell or use herself as fish bait.

Above the top bar hive was a full length queen excluder, and over that space were plain bars, where the bees could build their honeycomb in free form, the product most demand for sale and most useful for the farmwife, because there was so much more wax, the more valuable product for her being, as Zere’maya knew, a place where plastic had not made its place.

Working bees in a world with magic in it was terribly much easier, Zeremaya thought. How easy to simply hang a pendant around your neck instead of needing to smoke the bees and gear up. Antalya cocked her eyebrow at her.

"May I?" asked Zere’maya.

"You may." she replied. Zere’maya reached her small, square hand into the exposed honeycomb and snapped off an ample mouthful. She was going to take a very tiny portion but Antalya cleared her throat, just like a mother. Zere’maya took herself a generous section of enough, thanked the bees, and popped the fresh white honeycomb into her mouth.

Robbing the bees was something she had always loved to do -- simply always. It was wonderful to take a little bit of all the flowers around her into her mouth like that, to really taste the land, as if she could have bent down and savored a mouth of the actual ground she walked on, but a bit of honeycomb was close.

Zeremaya was even in luck -- there was a good deal of fresh packed pollen, not only honey with all its own earthy tang and local flavor. Fresh pollen tastes like peanut butter in the same way the finest roast beef tastes like imitation hamburger soy crumbles -- what peanut butter would desperately try to be, but can't.

She tucked the crumpling comb into her cheek and smiled. Carefully she spit the comb in the bushes – it was a taste, at least, of something real.

It would have been a perfect day except for how it ended. The farm husband came into the bee yard, weary and serious.

"The young man." He said softly.

Antalya groaned. "It's not like the first time, my dear.”, then turning to Zere’maya, “I believe you are his keeper?" she gestured out towards the campsite.

The women and children had piled more wood on the huge round fire. The flames leapt up and the taught faces of the farm folk and the gypsies had an unearthly red reflected glow. It was like looking at a circle of people cast from bright copper. The firelight flicked on the faces, dark and pale alike against the dark surroundings on beyond the circle of shadow light.

And in the center of the fire, cold skin against the sky, stood Karl -- naked, and absolutely stupid, raving drunk. Zeremaya looked at Antalya.

"You're telling me he's done this before?" asked Zeremaya. Antalya nodded.

"What did you do the last time?" Zeremaya asked. Antalya shrugged.
"We had to leave him there. Eventually he walked out of on his own power, after falling down and sleeping in there for a while. It's nothing he asked for, and it's not like there's anyone here that's fireproof." she finished.

Zeremaya made a quiet prayer that all the contact they had had would convey to her a small portion of Karl's invulnerability magic and stepped towards the fire. It felt first warm, than intimidatingly hot. Her clothing, too -- she imagined it being part of her. She had no intention of leaving him there, but watched her skirts for signs of singeing.

She gritted her teeth, stepped up, and reached out for Karl's stretched hand. He was cold -- cold like death cold, meat locker cold. Just touching him gave her a rush of feeling, feeling his drink in her. She could not do this for long. She braced her feet and pulled Karl free of the fire, threw her shawl around him and walked him back to his vardo, for whatever healing she could give him and hopefully for a good, long sleep.