House of the Moon

By C. M. Barrett

Phileas, Guardian of Oasis, has lost his heart to young and psychically gifted Serazina. He's sure she'll never fall in love with an ultra-logical, humorless bore who's almost as old as her father.

A sudden international crisis distracts him from his misery. The desert land of Etrenzia, facing rebellion from tribal minorities, claims that Oasis is encouraging the insurgents.

Elissia, Serazina's sister, who's been working in Etrenzia, brings home her lover, a rebel leader, for a visit. Though he gives the Oasan leaders priceless information about Etrenzia's covert mind control and human breeding programs, his attempt to coerce Phileas into supporting the rebels earns him a deportation ticket.

Elissia breaks up with him but insists that she must return to Etrenzia to finish her project. A few weeks later, she is abducted.

Phileas comforts Serazina so tenderly that she discovers her love for him, but she insists on going to Etrenzia and rescuing Elissia. Envisioning her wandering in the desert without a plan, he knows he must accompany her.

Together they brave the perils of giant snakes and sandstorms in a country where shifting alliances and overt hostility threaten them. They don't know that they are being lured to the desert for a purpose far more sinister than their worst fears.

• Language: English
• Publisher: C. M. Barrett
• Release date: Aug 10, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476250441

C. M. Barrett

On my mother's side of the family, I come from a line of storytellers. My grandmother's stories ranged from my grandfather's arrest for draft resistance in England during World War I, the uncertainty of life during the Troubles in Ireland, to the day she decided to leave her marriage (but didn't). My mother's stories described a rural childhood that to a child of a suburb of little boxes seemed idyllic. Both of them encouraged me to read and provided me with books to feed a growing habit. When I was seven or eight, I discovered mythology, and the gods and goddesses in those tales were as real to me as the dragons and cats in my own stories are now. Thanks to my early training in fantasy, I like to hang out with dragons. Accepting the bizarre directions my imagination takes has allowed me to conjure up Zen cats, cougars, gossip-vending hawks, and other critters. Currently I live in upstate New York on a wooded piece of land not unlike some of the terrain in Big Dragons Don't Cry. Since 2000 I've belonged to the online writers' group, Artistic License, subtitled Shameless Blameless Hussies. They've read all my books, but don't blame them if you find errors, because they're shameless. I also paint, and the art on my book cover is one of my watercolors.

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Chapter 1

Until she got on an airplane, Tara had thought nothing could frighten her more than dragon flights and her one terrifying ride on a flying cat. As the plane climbed to unimaginable heights without even flapping wings, she realized that her previous experiences with flight had only scratched the surface of fear. A cat might have nine lives, but she would use them all up if she thought about the distance between the earth and her small, breakable self.

Tara reminded herself that she was the courageous kitten who'd faced an unknown but reputedly ferocious dragon. She'd taken the perhaps greater risk of teaching Serazina, a young woman who feared being imprisoned for her psychic gifts, to communicate with animals. Tara was fearless. Tara was bold.

Tara was terrified.

Serazina, in whose lap she sat, said, I've never been in a plane before. It's like letting your emotions soar.

Tara covered her eyes with her paws.

But I crash at the thought of coming home. Do you think everyone will make a big fuss over me?

Serazina's idiocy regarding acclaim and honor provided Tara with a much-needed distraction. Maybe not. You only helped to free Dolocairn from the enslavement of the drug lords, rescued the White Dragon's daughter, brought the dragon girl back to her people, and helped her become the new High Priestess. You'll probably sneak back home without a word being said.

You're not being very nice.

"Nice isn't in my job description."

Lando hugged Serazina. Maybe you don't accept that you're remarkable, but you refuse a gift when you don't accept people's gratitude. Tara could probably give you a lesson in graciousness.

"That is in my job description."

Serazina finally laughed. She specializes in lessons, especially in teaching me not to take myself so seriously.

Tara wished she could do the same for the Guardian. He was frowning in his seat across the aisle, looking as if he'd like to impose a rule of silence on the plane passengers. She couldn't remember ever having seen him laugh. Apparently, running the land of Oasis and having to be the most mentally and emotionally controlled person alive erased one's sense of humor. He'd warmed somewhat since Tara had first crept into the chilly chambers of his being, but he was still colder than a Dolocairner glacier.

Or was he? The Sharp-clawed One scratched a little guidance into her mind. This human is changing faster than the flick of a fast paw. Leap away from preconceptions.

What should I look for? Tara asked the Great Cat Mother.

Sharp Claw's sigh made the lights in the airplane cabin flicker. Look for that which you don't expect.

It was a wonder the world managed to lurch along (however poorly) when those trying to bring it back into harmony had to rely on advice like this.

Tara padded into the Guardian's awareness and noticed a change in his temperature. His mood seemed hot and damp, like warm tears falling, unacknowledged. This was surely unexpected. Her curiosity at high pitch, she decided to investigate more deeply.

Humans with the sensing gift had scruples about the unauthorized exploration of another's being. Cats snooped when it was useful, and Tara could think of little more useful and necessary than determining the condition of a human who was central to the well-being of both his own kind and animals.

He'd never been so open. His usual shields were waterlogged and spongy. She pushed them aside without effort, but when she'd done so, she felt as if she were sinking up to her chin in swamp mud. Once she'd sorted out the muck, she looked for its source.

When she found it, she scuttled out of his heart and mind before her astonishment revealed her presence. Returning to physical vision to confirm her startling discovery, Tara saw that the Guardian resembled a wet kitten. Like skin exposed by rain-flattened fur, his eyes showed all he was feeling—and the man was miserable.

She'd definitely found emotions generally missing from his limited repertoire: sadness, heartache, and longing.

Feeling the need for a consultation, Tara ambled down the aisle to a seat near the back of the plane, where her mother slept.

Wake up, Tara hissed. This is important.

Emerald opened one green eye halfway. Better be.

The Guardian is in love with Serazina.

Both eyes opened wide. Truth?

See for yourself.

Emerald strolled up to the Guardian's vicinity, loitered briefly, and returned.

The man has a bad case of heartache. That is some deep murk.

Did you get the 'She's so young, I'm so old,' and the 'I'm so grim,' and all the comparisons of himself with Lando?

Man had a tail, he'd be whipping himself with it. I've never seen that human in such a sorry state. He's building a world of heartbreak. And I suppose Serazina doesn't have a clue.

Tara flicked her tail. "Not the shadow of one. When he rushed to Dolocairn after she got kidnapped—and that should have been a clue for all of us—I caught her being surprised that he was so nice. I thought he should be on his knees with gratitude for all she accomplished. Fur and whiskers, he should like her because she's brave and loyal and smart, for a human."

That's how I reckoned it. It seemed the Guardian was trying to be more human, in a good way. But we need to remember that the man buries his emotions deeper than scat and treats them the same way.

Looks like some scat worked its way to the surface, Tara said. The big question is whether we should interfere?

And do what? Bring them together? Not sure we want that. She'd be good for him, but what would he do for her? It was a big moment when she decided there was no virtue in suffering. Why load her up with the Guardian's burdens? Of course, the Big-assed Sneaky One may be up to some new tricks.

And what if Her trick is to lead him to Her through suffering?

Wouldn't put it past Her, Emerald said, but we know She doesn't lead anyone who isn't willing.

The Guardian looks willing to suffer.

Got that right.

Emerald closed her eyes and went back to sleep.

* * *

Less than a year ago, when his country had been falling apart, Phileas had thought he'd plunged to the ultimate depths of misery. Now he understood that he'd barely descended to the mezzanine. How wise he'd been during the first forty years of his life to avoid love, an excruciating and debilitating disease for which no cure existed.

He could have avoided some aspects of his suffering. When Lando had come to him in all his blond-haired, blue-eyed earnestness and said he wanted to return to Oasis and participate in the great changes taking place, Phileas had seen that more than patriotism moved the former spy. It had been equally evident that Serazina didn't want to part from him.

A more mean-spirited man, one who let emotions rule him, would have denied the request. A rational, logical man realized that if it weren't Lando, it would be some other charming, handsome, young man. Serazina was never going to fall in love with a cheerless, dour head of state.

That meant he had to make a decision immediately. He might be in love with her, but if love, as the sentimental Tamaran ballads claimed, were a flower, neglect would cause it to die. He would cease his unforgivable self-indulgence in the emotional crimes of longing and misery. He would be what he had been raised to be: Guardian of a land that needed him more than ever. It was a lonely job, but he was used to that.

* * *

Lando, I can see the towers of Nathansville. I never thought I'd be so happy to see them. And look, the fields. They're not green yet, but at least they're not covered with snow. And I see the ocean and the swamp, oh, we're coming home.

He hugged her again. You're so much fun.

I am? No one had ever said that to her before. That was why, though she didn't love Lando, she liked him so much that love didn't matter. At least not today. And in Dolocairn she'd learned that nothing mattered more than today.

*

Serazina's parents were waiting at the airport, waving and calling out her name. She ran to them, her arms outstretched.

I hope you never leave the country again, her father said.

Her mother embraced her. So do I. I'm grateful that no one told us Frost had kidnapped you until you were safe again, and, of course, I'm so proud of you—the whole country is—but someone else can play the heroine next time.

Serazina motioned Lando forward. She wasn't sure how to introduce him. She couldn't say, This is my lover. Lando had a few lovers. She didn't want to introduce him as a frequent bedmate and great lay.

This is my friend and colleague, she said.

Lando helped by putting an arm around her while he extended a hand to Johar. It's a great pleasure to meet you.

He was equally gracious with Serazina's mother. Fiola actually looked shy, and Serazina, seeing that she was dazzled by Lando's charm, imagined how decades earlier a certain Dolocairner had won her heart.

That Dolocairner demonstrated his winning smile and shook Lando's hand with enthusiasm. We're looking forward to hearing all about your experiences. Serazina, if you'd like to stay with us tonight, Lando is also welcome.

Johar, the girl looks exhausted, Fiola said. Let her go to the cottage and sleep.

I yield. Your mother has your house in immaculate condition, and she's prepared a meal for you.

Etrenzian food? Serazina asked. I never want to see a piece of fat or meat again.

Lentils and rice, Fiola said.

I can't wait.

*

The cottage had four rooms and a porch that overlooked the woods. How perfect it will be in the summer, Serazina said.

Lando rested his hand on the back of a rocking chair. I'll enjoy visits, even if we're only friends at that point.

Do you know something I don't?

He shook his head. Only that a relationship based on friendship and sex leaves a lot of room for replacement by something more passionate.

You're right, Serazina said, but passion means trouble, and I'm in no rush.

He kissed her. I'm not either. Why don't we see how nicely your mother made your bed?

* * *

Tara didn't ordinarily like cars, but it was a pleasure to ride in a vehicle with all wheels on the ground. The driver stopped close to the woods, and she and Emerald dashed across the last field and into the shelter of the trees.

Her father, Orion, who'd been waiting at the cave, nuzzled both of them. How happy I was when Berto told me you were coming home. I've had an interesting winter, but I don't believe I want to live in a house again for a long time.

That makes three of us, Emerald said. Lots to tell you, but I need a long nap, and after that I want to go hunting.

They all curled up together.

*

Discussion of the stay in Dolocairn began the following morning. Was Senti a good choice for the mission? Orion asked.

We couldn't have done without his street creds, Emerald said. Not that I don't have them, but when you're dealing with alley toms, it helps to be one.

The only problem—and it was a huge one—came when he returned one night from catting around, Tara said. Frost's hired guns caught and hurt him. His cries lured Serazina from safety.

Orion looked smug. Not every tom knows how to practice self-control.

Emerald looked him up and down. You know one who does?

Act like you're glad to see each other, Tara said. Senti's going to be glad to see my bad-tempered aunt. He's planning kittens.

Emerald sniffed. Might improve Sekhmet's disposition. Speaking of mating, how's Berto doing?

He's lost his grief over Serazina, Orion said, and he's mated with a few females, although none of her caliber. He's putting a lot of paint on surfaces, and he seems happy. He got very friendly with the Guardian, as did I. The man no longer fears that I will put him through emotional torment.

He's doing that all on his own, Emerald said.

Orion's ears twitched at her description of the deplorable contents of the Guardian's heart and mind. The offspring of their mating might be remarkable, if they bred true and raised their children in harmony. Unfortunately, since they're humans, getting to the point of mating is not so simple a process.

For them, a civil, friendly conversation isn't simple, Tara said, "and currently Serazina is enjoying an easy relationship. I asked Emerald yesterday if we should intervene, but maybe Serazina will have to need more than laughter and a warm haunch before she'll notice how the Guardian feels about her. She's not close to being in love with him."

Then we rest on our paws and observe, Orion said. When there's no need, there's no hunger. When there's no hunger, there's no hunting.

Another entry in Orion's collection of wit and wisdom, Tara thought. In Dolocairn she'd grown accustomed to listening to her own voice.

Chapter 2

During his ten years as Guardian of Oasis, Phileas's closest experience to a vacation had been the two days he'd spent recovering from a bullet wound sustained during an attempted assassination the previous year. Nor had the concept of tiredness ever had much meaning for him.

He wasn't experiencing physical exhaustion now. This weariness had emotional roots, and the best cure for it was to avoid seeing Serazina for a week or so. He sent her a message to take a break for a while and threw himself into catching up with the state of the nation.

You were only gone two weeks, Janzi said one day towards the end of the week when he'd called her to his office for a review of educational initiatives. How much do you think could have happened?

We know what can happen in one day.

True, but things were well in hand when you left for Dolocairn, and they remain so tranquil that I have an idea.

What idea?

Don't look so suspicious. Before I tell you, I want to bring some other people into the discussion: Serazina, Romala, possibly Lando—I favor developing his leadership potential—and certainly Berto, another young person who should be groomed for leadership. I'll contact everyone, and you can meet at my house tomorrow for lunch at midday.

Janzi—

Once or twice, you called me Mother. I liked that. She left the office without another word.

*

The next day Phileas arrived early at Janzi's house and was rewarded for his trouble by witnessing Serazina and Lando's arrival. He could have easily lived without the sight of their obvious pleasure with each other.

Janzi greeted them with hugs and said to Serazina, Once you're settled, I want to have a long discussion about what you learned in Dolocairn. Lando, I'm delighted to hear that you'll be staying in Oasis. We have great work ahead of us.

Yes, I'm sure we'd like to hear about the purpose for this meeting, Phileas said.

Janzi regarded him with clinical attention. Are you well?

I'm always well. Why do you ask?

You look as if you're in pain.

Not at all. I'm simply curious about your surprise.

I see.

He hoped she didn't. Clearly, he would have to exercise far more control when he was in the same room with Serazina. Being miserable in love was unpleasant enough. Being obvious about it was unthinkable.

Berto, paint-stained, arrived and hugged Serazina. He, at least, wasn't wafting pheromones at the sight of her.

A few minutes later Romala came. She greeted Phileas with restrained cordiality (his continuing punishment for having ended their brief relationship) and gave Serazina and Lando a friendly smile.

You and your colleagues did wonderful work in Dolocairn. I'm already in discussion with their best healers, and we're sharing information both about medicinal herbs and ways to gradually legalize them.

Yet another reason for moving forward with my plan, Janzi said.

Phileas had managed to tone down his rage at his mother into irritation. He reminded himself that a leader listened to ideas with an open mind.

Janzi distributed copies of a document. Phileas recognized the bold cursive handwriting on the first page, and his stomach seemed to plunge like a plane making a crash landing.

"Zena's Testament. What have you done?"

I've made copies. I want to distribute them to the Council members and have a meeting to discuss the document.

Zena's Testament? Lando's eyes glowed.

About time, Berto said. I was sorry to miss my chance to read it before the Night of the Dragon.

Romala opened her copy. I did read it, and even though I know Serazina and the kitten and the dragon risked their lives to save Oasis, I've always believed that the document's appearance had something to do with the events of that night.

Zena's Last Testament

"When people speak about the founding principles of Oasis, they always give me credit as the driving force behind them. This is one of the benefits of logic and reason, neither of which provides any evidence for the inferiority of women. I have been quoted as saying, 'Habit and emotion, those foul polluters of our psyches, poison our view of women.'

Indeed, I said that and many related things to Nathan while we scaled the peaks that divided Tamaras from Oasis. In Tamaras I had seen how willingly people followed him, trusted him, and were reassured by his confidence in the dangerous venture. His mind, though untrained, was clear, a fallow field ripe for the planting of intellectual seeds. Since I during my time as a slave had done little but imagine a better world, I had those seeds.

And I'm not sorry I planted them, even though some of them have grown a strange new crop of ideas. I've thought about sharing the fruits of my harvest, but the people aren't ready. The sensual excesses of Tamaras are far too fresh in all of our minds. We need the iron of reason and the steel of logic.

So, I am going to put this document away and seal it with an Etrenzian charm. My father, as history records, was a snake charmer. I have described how his ability to enter the awareness of the deadly snakes in his possession made me think that might be possible with human minds, but I never talked about the binding charms he placed within the snake's mind during his first training session with it. They made it possible for him to instantly mesmerize a serpent, though he extended the induction to make his audience feel they were getting their money's worth.

He learned the spell from his mother, a powerful witch who lived, as we all did, in the deep desert. She was a wealthy woman, and she spellbound her wealth in boxes that only she could open.

So I will bind the box in which I will place this manuscript. I will hide it in the Healers' Library. The right person will find it when it is most needed.

It occurs to me that you must be that person. Congratulations—and good luck. You'll need it.

Zena Vash'ti Turley

My Last Testament to the People of Oasis

You are, of course, fully aware that the supremacy of the mind is the foundation of our society, at least in theory. We work every day to inculcate a deeper discipline in each citizen.

That discipline, as I have stated above, has been and is still a necessary counter balance to the Tamaran excesses. However, foreseeing the time when the pendulum must begin to swing in the other direction, though not to its previous extreme, I have written this memoir and testament.

My husband and Oasis's first Guardian, Nathan Turley, died with his mental faculties fully intact, despite what anyone says, despite what I believed when I heard him express sorrow and regret over the course Oasis had taken. Though I faithfully recorded his words, I decided that none but the Guardians to follow should ever read it. I prefaced the document with the statement that it would test their fidelity to our principles. For my part, I regretted that an exemplary life had ended in such drivel.

My sudden aloneness threatened my own mental well being. I didn't wish for a new life companion. There would never be another partner for me, but I felt the urgency of finding a purpose for my life. Our son, Ronan, was now serving as the Guardian. He sought my counsel, but not as often as Nathan had, and this was appropriate. Each Guardian must find his own way.

I sought a way to serve the people and decided I could be most effective in studying those among whom the doctrine of mental supremacy had least effect—those who worked in the fields. From the beginning, field work was assigned to those with the smallest mental talents. I felt, though, that we needed to draw our farm workers more into the loop of mental activity, to stimulate their minds, and especially to create an environment in which their children wouldn't naturally drift into the same occupations.

I decided to spend some time among them to discover how best to elevate their mental abilities.

While we had built the beginnings of a mass transit system, I preferred to ride a horse, finding the exercise valuable and enjoying the clarity that being in the open air encouraged. Every day I rode out to the fields, speaking to the workers. They were hesitant at first, fearing that what they said would earn them official repercussions, but I assured them that I had little authority.

Many told me that they would like more formal education and an expanded library system. Often they complained that hard physical labor left them too tired to go into the city at night to take advantage of its cultural opportunities. They wanted plays in the villages where they lived, and they wanted a broadened curriculum in school for their children. I duly noted these requests and promised to pass them on to those in power.

Once I'd made myself familiar with the people, I turned my attention to their environment. I spent my early years in the great desert of Etrenzia, a harsh, dry land conducive to the development of mind. It is far from an unbroken stretch of sand; even outside the oases, there are areas of green where wildlife thrives. I was aware of the physical lure of nature, for I knew the aromas and bright colors of flowers and the darting motion of snakes and lizards. When I was captured and enslaved in the city of Tamaras, the tall buildings and the stench of too many humans living too close together erased those early memories. The artificial sensuality repulsed me, and my retreat into the private world of my mind was my salvation.

Now I rediscovered nature in an atmosphere far more lush. The smell of growing things, the cries of birds, and the sinuous movement of animals in the tall grass dulled my mind and opened up a dangerous kind of sensuousness. This was not the poison of Tamaras, based on overindulgence in food, wine, drugs, and sex. It seemed almost innocent in its effect; yet, I was sure it could not be.

I decided to ask the rural workers whether this atmosphere had any effect on them. Many of them, understandably cautious, said they didn't notice; they were there to do a job. A few, though, who had come to trust me, admitted that they found their thoughts affected by the myriad of scents, sounds, and sights.

Yora, a tall, pale Dolocairner, said, It distracts me. It takes me back to my babyhood in Dolocairn, toddling through the snow to a patch of green, screaming in excitement . . . an most unhealthy feeling.

Indeed, I said.

Mardon, a laborer with acute intelligence said, This world is alive for me. Sometimes the sight of a hawk soaring overhead lifts my spirit. Sometimes, despite my best efforts to keep my mind calm, joy floods my being, and my body comes alive. And I ask myself why this should be wrong, and I can't come up with an answer.

He looked at me, troubled, and I found that I had no answer, either. I had, however, devoted my life to a belief, and I became desperate to justify it.

I wondered if the forests would induce similar effects and asked the laborers if any of them went there. They told me that woodsmen now harvested the pine plantations established many years ago. Hunters also roamed the forests in season. (Nathan and I had been undecided about allowing hunting. It was an utterly primitive activity, but the symbolism of humans triumphing over beasts seemed worth encouraging. It also provided a material bonus in the form of meat on the table.)

Assured that the forest held little threat, I decided to explore it and found this area to be even more emotionally dangerous than the fields.

The open farmland was crowned with a sky that was often a pale blue streaked with clouds, a calming pattern that could induce mental coolness. The constant breeze kept the air from growing dense and stagnant.

No such relief existed in the woodlands. A ceiling of foliage trapped the air and the dampness of the forest floor. Moss, ferns, and assorted vile fungi grew everywhere. The light that filtered through the leafy canopy was a sickly yellow.

Nature at its most pungent held little seduction for me, and every shadow that darkened the paths of dead and rotting leaves aroused the crippling emotion of fear. The sounds of the forests seemed equally menacing, and I felt small and insignificant among the ancient trees. It was unforgivable to imagine that these towering oaks and beeches had awareness, but these were the murky trails my thoughts traveled.

Still, I returned day after day, determined to conquer this shadowy world. In time, the drone of insects, the dank fragrance of the forest floor, and even the lurking shadows failed to damage my mental clarity.

I pause here, for I must use the utmost care in choosing my words. How can I communicate what happened next without future generations deciding that Zena ended up crazy as a coot? Forget my whining ego. How can I convince you, the reader, that what I experienced was true, especially since what I called truth became challenged by it?

You're still reading. Good. Now, be prepared to throw out everything you've ever learned. Come to these words like a newborn baby, fresh, bright, with an open mind and an open heart.

I can never be sure that my knowledge of Nathan's last words didn't influence the series of events that now unfolded. Let me try to describe it logically and sequentially. It began this way. One day I was riding in the woods, troubled in my mind over a certain course of events my son, the new Guardian, was bringing into effect. I thought he was wrong. He failed to listen, and his refusal deepened my sense that I'd lost the power to affect events in Oasis. More disturbing, I saw clearly how over the years the vision Nathan and I had shared would erode.

Why, I wondered, did we bother? I cannot describe the weariness and depression that made my limbs heavy. Had I not been mounted, I might have sunk into a damp bed of moss.

Slowly, I became aware of an odd sensation, like the humming of a thousand bees, the smell and taste of honey, and the feeling that the golden syrup poured through me, healing my wounds. A voice whispered, Fear not. All will be well.

I thought the voice only my own higher intelligence, urging me to rise from the quagmire of despair and to climb the pinnacle of reason. A few days later, I returned and heard it again, the voice more distinct this time, a tone soft as the newly opened petals of a flower, yet also resonant with age and wisdom. Know me, it said.

I rationalized my unendurable longing to do so by assuring myself that it was surely my duty to investigate this extraordinary occurrence. A circular clearing in the woods lay ahead. (I half-noted that I had also been near this place the first time I heard the voice.) Some ancient shamble of stones stood in its center, too primitive to have been built by Tamarans. In front of it sat a pool of water, fringed with reeds. It seemed a good place to dismount and investigate.

I sat on a tussock of grass by the pool. The humming sound intensified, and a golden haze descended over the water, blurring the outlines of trees and dimming the sky. I felt as if I were sinking into a puddle of honey, its stickiness binding my limbs, immobilizing reason and logic. Oddly, this sensation didn't frighten me.

Slowly, a form began to shimmer in the amber mist, a green column that gradually resolved itself into the shape of a woman. Her skin was the tawny hue one often sees in a person of mixed Dolocairner and Etrenzian descent. Her hair seemed a mass of flowery vines, a madness of green and gold. Her eyes, too, were green and steadier than any I had ever seen. Only the fixity of her stare kept me from leaping on my horse and riding away.

Who are you? I asked, my voice as croaky as that of a frog rising from sluggish hibernation.

I am She whom you seek.

I seek no one, I said, but as soon as I spoke, bubbles rose in my throat in effervescence, not unlike that fizzing alcohol drink the wealthy Tamarans had favored. The bubbles tickled, making me want to laugh in pure delight.

The apparition smiled. Laugh, then. Laughter pleases me.

And why should I want to please you?

Because I am your heart and soul.

To my astonishment, I wanted