Chapter 6

Terrified, her mouth dry with fear, Malina stood for a long time with her eyes tightly closed, her face slightly averted, waiting for the final deadly blow that would send her into empty eternity. Yet part of her mind wondered, with a sort of detached curiosity, not just why the Elf soldier was toying with her in such a manner, but why she could sense or feel nothing. It was as though a consequence of shutting her eyes was that everything external had ceased to exist; that she was alone; that something had changed in some indefinable manner.

The touch of something cold and wet striking her cheek made her flinch reflexively, causing her to open her eyes with a jerk.

Rain?

Pran was nowhere to be seen. Looking in wonder at the spot where the Elf had just been standing moments before, she noticed that not only was the meadow not the same as before, but its boundaries seemed to have become extended. Turning slowly about, she gaped in wonder at the vast expanse which surrounded her on all sides. Pran's house and small farm was gone, as was the forest And the hills

Another large drop of water struck her forearm. Alarmed, she stared as it turned into a tiny rivulet of water, working its way down her arm toward her wrist.

Rain?

But a moment ago there hadn't been a cloud in the sky The air, which was cool and damp, seemed to be sucking the very warmth from her body. Looking upward at the sky, turning slowly about once more, she stared in disbelief at the dark clouds which were forming.

'What sort of weather is this? What sort of place is this? Why am I so cold . . . ?'

As if in response to that word, a cold, foreboding feeling hit the pit of her stomach, even as another large drop of water struck her body, and yet another, causing her to back up, as though by moving, she could avoid both her predicament, and the huge, startling drops of water that pelted her.

My Power

She wailed in disbelief What had Pran done to her?

Yet he had told her that this would be a consequence of her being sent to this world. Despite his words, however, it wasn't until she was physically here that they seemed to convey any real meaning.

Now she understood what was wrong, why she was cold, and getting colder. Without her Power, she couldn't warm herself. She couldn't transform. She couldn't . . .

A brilliant flash of light from behind made her gasp out loud, and she whirled about, suddenly terrified once more, looking for its source. But there was noth-

She felt the sudden, deafening noise as much as heard it. It seemed to strike her chest, and for a moment she thought her heart had stopped beating. Wide-eyed with terror, making frightened, incoherent noises, she began moving, weeping, fear taking er breath away.

Another bolt of lightening struck the ground, right in front of her, so close that there was no delay between the appearance of its blinding, arcane veinlike structure and the deafening concussion that left her ears ringing. She screamed, experiencing a terror like none she'd ever known, and began running wildly, aimlessly, wracked by broken sobs.

The towering clouds turned black, and to Malina it seemed as though day was turning to night before her very eyes; within moments, it was almost too dark to see. The rain, which had only been an occasional huge droplet of moisture, began to fall in slanting torrents, striking her with such force that it stung.

Another brilliant flash and concussion caused her to lose her balance, to fall headlong and slide on the wet grass. Feeling a sudden sense of unreality, as in a nightmare, soaked and shivering uncontrollably, she began screaming hysterically, got to her knees, found herself getting up slowly, feeling as though she were dreaming, as though something inside her was losing momentum.

Something inside of her, something fundamental, felt as though it were crumbling under pressures it wasn't equipped to withstand. She stopped crying, her feelings shutting down seemingly of their own accord, turning inward until nothing was left of them but an indistinct, dull ache. Without volition, she slumped to the ground and simply watched this bizarre scene play itself out, her eyes registering that to which her soul was no longer able to respond. Tiny white pellets fell and rattled and stung her skin, but she watched such things from somewhere inside that observed incuriously . . .

Within an hour or so, the fury of the storm abated. The sun came out. Yet though it was high overhead, it appeared washed out, devoid of warmth, and seemed to imbue everything beneath its cheerless, baleful gaze with a bleak and unfriendly aspect. A chilly, persistent, mournful-sounding wind began hissing through the grass, causing it first to stand up once more as though it were tentatively, collectively, raising its head. By degrees it began to move in waves, giving this land the appearance of a vast, empty, unquiet sea.

She could never have imagined such a strange, terrible place. Looking upon this hypnotically undulating yellow sea of long grass that stretched forever from horizon to horizon under a pale blue sky, she wondered why Pran would spare her life, only to send her here.

Promise, he had told her.

She considered the word, and wondered that it evoked no feeling within her. It meant nothing.

As the sun and wind dried her, she sat, motionless, helplessly considering the unfamiliar emptiness that seemed to fill her very being.

There being nothing else that she could have done, she got up and began to walk, hugging herself against the chill, pausing occasionally to yank out a succulent segment of grass stem to chew on. The pithy ends, though sweet enough, were not at all what she was expecting; they were unlike similar grasses at home, and did little to quell the dull ache in her belly. In fact, they only served to make it worse.

She spent the remainder of the day walking halfway doubled over, her stomach aching dully. She kept moving well into the evening, trying to stay warm. At last, she stopped, feeling less tired than overwhelmed with a feeling that she could simply lay down and die. Exhausted and trembling, she lay down on the ground, curled up into a ball, and tried to lose herself in blessed slumber. Sleep was long in coming, however, and seemed to taunt her maddeningly throughout the night, and she moaned and tossed in frustration, racked by stomach cramps and bad dreams.

The following morning, she left the grass alone altogether.

To avoid travelling in circles, naïvely hoping for warmth, she decided to begin making her way south, towards the sun. After trudging along listlessly for some time, a distant rumble caught her attention. Alarmed, she looked about for the source. It sounded like the storm was returning, but there wasn't a cloud in the sky The noise grew louder and louder, until she could feel the very earth beneath her feet begin to tremble. Throwing herself prostrate upon the ground, covering her ears in a vain attempt to shut out the tumult, she cowered in fear, casting her furtive, panicked gaze about for the source of the dreadful din. At last, chancing to look directly above, she spotted something wondrous and terrible A long, narrow, straight white line of cloud was forming before her very eyes. Her attention was drawn to a tiny, angular bit of black, behind which the cloud was forming, and it seemed to be this object that the terrifying, near-subterranean rumble emanated from. Evidently this was a world of great and powerful beings . . . and she was just a tiny, insignificant speck in a sea of yellow grass under a blue sky that stretched forever from horizon to horizon . . .

I sense promise . . .

Elves' promises Emptiness and lies

She lay there on her back until the noise passed, watching in despair and awe as the white cloud slowly traced its arc across the heavens . . .

Several hours after getting to her feet once more and continuing on, she spotted a line of trees in the distance. Tired, hungry and footsore, she made her way toward them, an arduous task which seemed to take forever. Once there, she found that they lined a narrow winding river. Here she stopped for a time and bathed her aching, blistered feet. The water, though cool and soothing, was nevertheless brown and appeared unsuitable for drinking. Reddish-brown dragonflies and their smaller cousins, turquoise-coloured damsel-flies, skimmed the water in search of mosquitos, gnats, midges, and other prey. The dark shape of a frog shot beneath the surface, and noisy black birds with red and yellow on their upper wings vociferously berated her intrusion into their nesting area, flying at her head, until she moved on. Not much rested, propelled onward by hunger, she got painfully to her feet and instinctively began following the course of the river.

By late afternoon, she was rewarded with the appearance of some sort of dwellings in the distance, and she approached them hopefully. But by the time she drew near, she discovered that they were too dangerous to get near. Herds of lowing cattle roved the fields and moved towards her if she was unlucky enough to be seen. Then came a sound that made her gasp whitely in terror Despite her aching feet and painful, broken blisters, she bolted back towards the open fields, casting fearful glances back over her shoulder. Looking back, retching for breath, she saw to her surprise and shuddering relief that the dogs came only to the edge of the property and no further.

That night, laying upon the open ground and shivering, watching the pale stars glittering in the sky like a mockery of hope, a black despair stole over her as she realized that she was probably going to die in this place, alone, forgotten, and far from home. 'Perhaps I shall just lay here,' she thought, 'until my life ebbs away.' Long past the point of useless tears or anger or caring, she tried willing herself to die. But her heart refused to stop beating, and try as she might, she could not simply hold her breath until oblivion overcame her. She fell asleep wondering how long it would take for death to claim her, simply by waiting for it.

The next morning, however, some deep-rooted stubbornness that seemed like it belonged to someone else, made her decide to continue. 'For another day, at least,' she told herself. That same day, the third, she finally found a house that looked promising.

Deprived of the use of her Power, Malina had no choice but to approach the house stealthily on foot, all the while painfully aware that the monotonous, tall yellow grass afforded her little or no cover as she edged towards her goal. Except for her experience in the Elven prison, she had seldom been cold or hungry before, and for the first time in her life she was desperate enough to steal. That is, if she could find anything to steal.

Without warning she felt faint, and had to sit down quite suddenly, seeing stars. Thankfully the episode was brief, and passed quickly. She got to her feet once more and moved in closer . . .

It was old, unpainted, its boards weather-beaten, grey, and beginning to sag; it was altogether a study in neglect. To the right of the house there was an enormous oak, the only tree to be seen for several miles. A rope hung from one of its lower branches, and at the end of this, dangling a few feet above the ground, was a large black circular thing that turned slowly, occasionally swaying to and fro on the end of its tether. The irrhythmic gusts of wind that hissed evilly through the grass, emanated from this thing, Malina thought, wondering if she was becoming delirious, and she fearfully kept her distance. Adjacent to this was the oddest cart she had ever seen. It was made of metal and painted red and yellow; it had glass windows like those in the homes of the wealthiest Elves, and its wheels bore a disturbing resemblance to the evil black thing hanging in the tree.

She was at the back of the house now. Inside was food and shelter, she hoped. The place certainly didn't look lived in, but her Pixie nose detected a faint aftersmell of food. There was a door at the back of the house, but something large and too heavy was blocking it . . . sort of a white painted metal box. The entire front of this object appeared to be a door, but it bore an emblem, written upon with arcane symbols. Malina knew, from hard experience, when to leave well-enough alone.

Fine. There was always more than one entrance.

Sneaking around, she tried to peer into one of the side windows, but they were too high for her to see into. Approaching the front of the house, peering around the corner, she saw that it was fronted by a low porch, and that the door hung wide open, occasionally disturbed by the gusting wind.

She hesitated, heart pounding. What if there were dogs? Part of the previous day had been wasted waiting outside the fence of yet another farmhouse, hoping for a chance to raid the garden. And once again two large brutes, apparently trained for such duty, had chased her off the property, but no farther. They had watched her all too carefully as they lay in the dust, tongues lolling, panting in the hot mid-afternoon sun, as she had sidled around the wooden fence, a garden full of vegetables only an arm's length away.

Well, there was no choice now but to have a look. Fixing the entrance with her eyes, glancing about occasionally for any sign of danger, she began making her way toward the entrance, stumbling, lightheaded.

She didn't see the rake where it lay discarded in the grass. Nor did she have time to react when its tines bit into her foot. Her yelp of excruciating pain was abruptly cut off by a blur that came to hit her squarely between the eyes.

Inside the house, meanwhile, was a man named Ralph, who was dozing in an old armchair that had once belonged to his father. On a low table before him was a half-empty can of beer and an ashtray full of butts. His last cigarette lay draped over the edge, a long tube of ash. He often fell asleep leaving a cigarette going. Were he not in the habit of leaving the windows and the front door open for ventilation, the whole house would probably have reeked of ashtrays, cigarette smoke and stale beer. The inside of the house was as much a study in neglect as without. Faded linoleum of unguessable patterns covered every floor, high-traffic areas worn through to the floorboards and beyond in many places. The cupboards, walls, doors and bathroom had been carelessly painted at one time, metal fixtures and all; there were still ancient, long-dried splatters of paint on the narrow mirror over the fireplace and the one in the bathroom; they remained as they were like a lasting monument to neglect. As if to complement this feature, the furniture was suitably dilapidated, sagging, and threadbare.

Ralph, too, was a study in neglect. Though young and very big and strong, he was not in very good shape, and past the point of caring that he was developing a paunch. His brown hair was unkempt and badly in need of a trim. He needed a shave. He had been wearing the same underwear and t-shirt for the last two weeks. He had an interesting face, however; one that was deceptively thoughtful, patient, slow to anger should something provoke him.

Something got his attention, and he came awake with a jerk. Listening intently for a moment, he heard nothing at first. But eventually a new sound caught his attention. It sounded as though someone were crying. Stumbling out of his somnolence, he went to the front door to investigate. There, at the foot of the front stairs, he found what he thought at first was a child sitting on the front grass. But when he ran down and took a closer look, after a moment of squinting in the sun which seemed dazzlingly bright after the dark interior of the house, he saw what turned out to be a young woman wearing a short, gauzy dress that was torn in places. Both dress and girl were badly in need of cleaning. She stared at Ralph fearfully, poised to flee. From her bloody nose and foot, and the position of the rake, he guessed what had happened.

'Geez ' he exclaimed, hoping that he wasn't somehow going to be blamed for leaving the rake out where someone could step on it, 'you okay?'

She held on to her nose, trying to stop the flow of blood. What is he babbling? She tried to make him out through her tears. To her relief, she saw that he carried no weapon; not even a pitchfork; and it was evident from his tone and his obvious concern that he posed no immediate threat.

'I'll get a towel or something. Wait there.' He left her and went back into the house.

'Where is he going?' With a sinking feeling, she realized that she didn't even know the language he spoke. The pain in her foot was agonizing, and she had to fight the futile urge to scream. The human soon returned with a much soiled rag and proffered it. 'Why is he offering me that filthy thing?' she thought, staring in fearful confusion, if not revulsion. She tried getting up once more, afraid that other humans might come and drive her away or worse, but yelped in pain when she tried to stand on her injured foot. An ugly knot of despair began to grip her heart as it dawned on her that she had lost all control over her situation. She was hurt, unable to use her Power to heal herself, and no longer able to flee.

With a frustrated exhalation of breath, Ralph paused to consider the girl a moment. 'I'm not being much help, am I.'

When the young woman didn't reply, he considered her more closely still.

'Do you understand anything I'm saying?'

Her look told him all he needed to know.

'Great. This is all I need.'

Ralph was on pins and needles while he waited for Doc Wallace to show up. He hadn't the first idea what to do for the girl in the meantime, and the fact that she couldn't talk only made it worse. Fortunately, it wasn't long before the doctor arrived, barrelling down the dirt road, his beat-up old blue station wagon streaming a long plume of dust. As luck would have it, the light breeze, what there was of it, was coming from the east, from behind Ralph and the girl, so that when the car turned into the driveway and came to a stop, the dust cloud began drifting away from them in slow-motion. Getting out of his car unhurriedly, bringing his black bag, the doctor approached without a word. Assessing her general condition at a glance, the doctor told Ralph to pick the girl up, carry her inside, and place her on the couch, which he did. Switching a bridge lamp on and moving it closer, and sitting down on a chair Ralph brought for him, the doctor tossed his battered and stained old fishing hat over on to the seat of Ralph's armchair and began examining the young woman's injuries.

'She doesn't speak any English,' Ralph said, uncertain if this was really true. 'You think she's going to be okay?'

'Oh . . . doesn't appear too bad,' the doctor replied with calculated mildness, though he could tell at a glance that the girl was slightly feverish and suffering from exposure. He began to examine her, noting with relief that she didn't appear ill enough to require hospitalisation, but soon came to the girl's eyes and ears.

'I'll be . . . damned '

'What is it?' Ralph asked him.

'Where did you say she comes from?'

'I didn't.' It was then that Ralph noticed what had the doctor's attention. The girl's ears were slightly pointed, and her eyes were really strange, sort of purple or royal blue. There was something vaguely exotic about her features as well, that was difficult to put a finger on. She had a light dusting of tiny freckles across both her cheeks, and her small upturned nose, that under better circumstances would have given her an appealing, yet mischievous appearance. Unable not to stare, for some reason Ralph found himself saying, 'Oh, she's got those contacts. You know, like you can make your eyes another colour, except they look funny.'

'And her ears?'

Ralph shrugged. 'She was born that way.'

Doc Wallace gave him an odd, appraising look. 'Well, if you say so.' It was evident from his tone that he wasn't convinced. But if the doctor harboured any suspicions, he kept them to himself.

Malina could not have explained how or why she knew that the old man was a healer. She had watched his cart arrive with more curiosity than fear, wondering what had become of its horses, and what the subdued rumbling noise emanating from it was. She could see that the old man's demeanour was clearly non-threatening, as he stepped out of his cart and began moving towards her, and for some reason his general appearance, his thin white hair poking out at all angles from beneath an odd, shapeless sort of hat that looked as though he had jammed it on his head in haste, if not his thin arms and legs and thick torso, put her at ease. She was naturally wary of humans, and for good reason. But she didn't object to his gentle ministrations as he cleansed and bandaged her foot, while she held her nose as he had indicated.

The old healer had in his possession some of the strangest magical devices Malina had ever seen, and she was entranced. His wrinkled eyes peered at her through flat pieces of some sort of transparent crystal which were held in place by frames made of a shiny, silver-coloured metal. He looked into her eyes and ears with a tiny magical light, and listened to her chest through pieces of rubber hose stuck in his ears.

When the doctor was done, he said to Ralph, 'She'll be fine, but make sure she takes it easy and doesn't walk around on that foot for five days or so. I'll just give her a tetanus shot before I go.' When he made clear what he was going to do with the needle, however, Malina yelped in anticipated pain and chagrin, leaning away from him and clapping her hand over the spot on her shoulder where the doctor had been about to inject her.

'Doesn't like needles,' winced Ralph, a sentiment he shared with the girl.

The doctor, amused by the wide-eyed way she watched the object in his hand, said to Ralph with a smile, 'Show her that old picture on the mantle . . . you know . . . the little bitty one.'

Distracted, she watched Ralph as he made his way to the fireplace, and took from the mantle a small object she had eyed with some curiosity, and no little desire, before. As he handed it to her, she hardly noticed as Doc first swabbed her shoulder, then pricked her with the needle. Her only reaction was to glance at her shoulder, her eyebrows drawn together in momentary annoyance, which was soon forgotten as she lost herself in the tiny portrait of a young woman.

Repacking his bag and struggling to his feet with a wry smile, Doc said, 'She's got a slight fever, but nothing too serious. Keep an eye on her foot. If she gets really sick, or if her foot doesn't heal properly, or if it gets infected, give me a call.'

Ralph thanked the doctor and showed him to the door awkwardly; it had been years since anyone had been shown to the door in this house . . . not since before his parents had died. The doctor paused a moment on the threshold, seemed about to turn back and say something, but shook his head and left instead.

The sort of visitors Ralph was used to having were the kind that smoked cigarettes, drank beer, and talked a lot. This one was altogether different. Soon after Doc left, she fell asleep, and he found himself doing something for her, more or less automatically, that he'd never done for anyone before: he took the afghan from the back of the couch and carefully, gently, spread it out over her small form. Frowning, he sat in the armchair opposite and watched her for some time. It vaguely occurred to him that he hadn't experienced anything like tenderness for as long as he could remember.

As she slept fitfully on his couch, he considered what to do with her. It was apparent that she was going to have two black eyes . . . a fact which made him uncomfortable. If someone saw her like that, they might assume that he was the cause of her injuries. If it turned out that she really didn't speak English, explaining her condition would be difficult, and could lead to an embarrassing misunderstanding.

Where did she come from? Her general appearance and her dress were like nothing he had ever seen before. She apparently didn't have a car, and it was a half-hour drive to the nearest town. He doubted, somehow, that she had walked all that way with her bare feet, though they did appear pretty badly blistered. People living in this area were conscientious when it came to offering a lift to those on foot, especially when it came to attractive young women; so it was more probable to Ralph that someone had ditched her in the middle of nowhere. Maybe she was a mail-order bride from some far-off foreign country that some guy had sent for, only to decide that she was too much trouble, or had tired of her when the novelty wore off. Maybe she had hitch-hiked all the way here, from some loony-bin in one of the big cities far away, and got thrown out in the middle of nowhere. He had heard of things like that happening. Eventually, he shook his head ruefully at his own thoughts. 'Bad habit to get into,' he muttered to himself. 'Like Granddad used to say, "When you don't know something for sure, don't start trying to make up your own answers."'

Come suppertime, he got out his usual frozen pizza, put it in the oven, and set the timer. When it was ready, he carried it into the living-room, along with a six-pack of beer and a roll of paper towels that he used for everything from plates to napkins. He then placed everything on the coffee table which stood before the couch and drew himself up a chair. There was no need to wake the girl. She was sitting up and watching him, her features an admixture of fear and timid interest.

'Pizza?' he asked her, separating and handing her a slice on a piece of paper towel.

Hesitantly, her mouth watering, Malina took from the human what was obviously food of some kind. Watching his example, she tried the peet-sa. It was hot She had never eaten hot food before. But it was good. She did manage to burn her tongue and the roof of her mouth a little, but she would live. Assuaging her hunger was, for the moment, of much greater importance.

The human then handed her a strange metal cylinder, saying beer? She took it, examining it closely. It felt as though some liquid was sloshing inside.

'Hey Don't shake it. Here.' He opened it for her.

She wasn't sure whether she liked the taste of beer or not, but it cooled her mouth down as she ate the peet-sa.

After eating a few slices, fairly marvelling at her appetite, he said, 'You don't say much. Can you talk?' Wolfing down all she was offered, and working on her second beer, she listened to him, wondering if he was really trying to communicate, or if he was just talking to hear his own voice. Eventually, frustrated, he pointed to himself and said, 'Ralph.'

Finally, something that was clear and understandable 'Mäïnya.' she responded with her mouth full.

Ralph was visibly relieved. Using his best approximation of her name, he said, 'So, you can talk. You Malina, me Ralph.'

'Raff,' she responded.

'Ralllph,' he corrected.

'Rowwwff,' she said, wondering what she was doing wrong.

'Can you say 'l'? Elllllll.'

She made a few perfunctory attempts to copy him. This language was going to prove impossible Disheartened, she gave up the effort. Pran had obviously lied to her

'Aw, c'mon. Please, stop looking so sad Rowf will do for now. Okay? Rowf.'

'Rowf.' She muttered, non-committaly, wondering if the Human was becoming angry with her.

'Yeah, sure. Rowf,' he muttered resignedly. 'I've been called worse, believe me.'

She brightened a little. At least the human was trying to be kind to her. His food didn't seem to agree with her, though. Her stomach felt funny, like it was full of . . .

When the belch came, she was unable to stop it. She was so mortified that she would have liked to vanish right there on the spot. Rowf didn't seem offended, though. In fact, he seemed to find her reaction quite funny. Patting his own belly, he said, 'Feel better?'

There was no mistaking his meaning. With an embarrassed smile (brought on in part by Ralph's infectious good-humour) she discovered that it did relieve the funny feeling inside of her. And after experimenting a little, she found she could burp almost silently. That felt even better. This was something that came entirely as a surprise; to have to learn an entirely new sort of etiquette.

Ralph left her momentarily while he went into the kitchen to heat another pizza. When he returned, Malina was well into her fourth beer.

'Hey, slow down You're getting drunk.'

This was true. The pain in her nose and foot had subsided, and she felt a peculiar sort of glow all over. The only drawback was a slight lack of co-ordination that caused her to wear some of her peet-sa, and spill some of her beer, but for some reason she couldn't have cared less.

It wasn't long before the sun was low in the sky, and the house began to cool. Before coming to this world, Malina had seldom been cold in her life, and didn't like the sensation at all. So after they'd eaten, when Ralph went to the fireplace and started a small blaze going, she got to her feet, beer in hand, and began hobbling towards the heat.

'Hey Doc said you're supposed to stay off your feet ' He scooped her up lightly, causing her to gasp in fright and surprise, and pushed the armchair around with his foot until it was right in front of the fire. Standing before the chair, he hesitated, realizing that there was only the one armchair, and for a moment he wondered whether he should give her the chair, and find something else for himself to sit on. With a shrug, realizing that there was nothing else besides the heavy couch that was as comfortable as the old armchair, he sat down with the girl in his lap.

For a moment, she seemed to be holding her breath, not looking at anything. To his surprise, she was trembling with fear. To put her at ease, he began talking quietly to her, making what he thought were reassuring noises.

Malina had thought the human big and slow and clumsy. This impression changed the instant he picked her up, however. He was neither slow nor clumsy, and she realized that he was very strong, and could be very dangerous if he chose to be. When he sat down with her in front of the fire, she was terrified at first, wondering what this enormous (to her eyes) human was going to do to her. It didn't occur to her that his only intention was to sit before the fire, and for the longest time she waited, trembling with fear, struggling with the cold dread that gripped her heart. At last, lulled by his warmth and the fire and his quiet, comforting murmuring, she relaxed bit by bit, until her fear abated.

To her surprise, she found that she enjoyed sitting quietly with Rowf, sipping beer and listening to the vibration of his chest as he spoke nonsense to her. She was impressed with the little white tubes he burned in his mouth, although their pungent smell made her wrinkle her nose in displeasure. Noticing her interest in his cigarettes, he blew a few smoke-rings for her as she watched in fascination.

When it was very late, Rowf cleared his throat and said something, pointing to the couch. The fire had died down again, and the room had cooled once more. Rowf set her on the couch and left for a moment. When he returned, he was carrying several blankets and a pillow.

He started going from wall to wall, doing something to small brown rectangles set to one side of each doorway, that made loud clicking noises, which in turn somehow made the magic lights disappear; and then he went away, leaving her alone. It was early autumn, and the house, having little or no insulation, grew colder by the minute, she thought.

Retreating into the blankets, she tried to get warm and go to sleep. For the longest time, kept awake by her throbbing nose and foot, her thoughts turned to the strange Human. Why was he being so kind to her? She had meant to steal food from him, yet he had given her food and drink without question. He had called upon a Healer to see to her injuries. Now he was providing her with the most comfortable bed she had ever slept upon, and shelter.

Though she was very tired, for some time sleep eluded her. She found herself wishing that the big Human was nearby where she could see him, so that she could reassure herself of his presence. In truth, he was the only source of comfort she'd yet found in this world, and for some reason, she found his absence cause for anxiety.

With such new and unfamiliar thoughts chasing each other in unresolving circles, she drifted off into the first untroubled sleep she'd had for many days.

Ralph woke and got out of bed, wondering if the girl in his living room was still there. She was. Seeing her in repose, her features rendered angelic by slumber despite her injuries, Ralph rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, half-wondering if she was real. It was much earlier than he was used to getting up, though he slept far more than he needed. Malina's white-blonde hair, which he remembered from last night had felt impossibly soft against his shoulder, was matted, and badly in need of cleaning. 'Like the rest of her,' he mused. For no apparent reason, as he gazed at her sleeping form, her presence created within him an unfamiliar ache which was almost indistinguishable from grief.

Malina stirred and sighed deeply. Remembering where she was, despite her sore foot and nose, she found it wonderful to lay on a soft bed beneath warm blankets, a luxury she had never experienced before. Feeling warm, protected and relaxed, was enough to meet all her present wants and needs. She lay quietly, and dozed without a care in the world.

In the meantime, Ralph busied himself preparing breakfast, something he seldom bothered with. Within several minutes, he returned to the living-room with two plates of sausage, eggs, fried potatoes, and two large glasses of orange juice. As he placed them on the low table before the couch, Malina stirred.

'Breakfast,' he announced, prompting her to open her eyes.

Sitting up, she stared uncertainly. It was apparent from the way Rowf was eating that the proper thing to do was use the shiny implements he had provided. But she had never used any sort of implements in her entire life. Not wanting to appear rude, she picked up the knife and fork and tried to copy Rowf.

Ralph frowned as he watched the girl's studiously inexpert attempt to use her knife and fork. Seeing her difficulty, thinking that she might upset her plate, he set his own aside for a moment and took hers. To his embarrassment, her response was to look hurt and chagrined.

'I'm not taking it away,' he said, unrealistically wishing that she would somehow understand his words. 'Look, I'm just cutting it up for you.' He did so, and handed her back the plate, which she took from him uncertainly. She began eating, eyes downcast, looking guilty. To his relief, this mood quickly seemed to pass. Eating his own breakfast, watching her in silence, he wondered how anyone could not know how to use a knife and fork.

When they were done, Rowf went away for a time, and from a room down the hall there came the sound of running water. When he finally came back, his hair was damp, and he was dressed in clean clothes.

'Bath time,' he told her. Not surprisingly, she stared at him uncomprehendingly.

'C'mon, stinky,' he said, picking her up and carrying her to the bathroom. 'You can use a good cleaning.'

The moment he sat her on the edge of the tub and moved to leave, an unpleasant and obvious revelation gave him pause. She looked as out of place as though she had never been in a bathroom before. Not trusting this observation, he took a washcloth, wet it in the bath, wrung the excess water out of it and handed it to her. Her reaction left him shaking his head in wonder. She felt the warm, wet cloth, staring at it as though she had no idea what it was for, but was pleased by the sensation. Scratching his head, Ralph took the cloth from her and wiped her face just enough to give her the idea.

Instead of getting the idea, she simply stared at him, wondering what he was doing to her.

'I don't believe this ' he muttered to himself. Sensing that there was no choice in the matter, he began urging her out of her light dress.

At once, she did as he bade her to do, but out of fear of what he might do to her if she refused. What he did next made her cry out, and she almost decided to fight for her life, and try to get away from the big Human. She was afraid that he meant to drown her But he didn't act threateningly. Instead, he met her fear with quiet patience. At last, she was sitting up to her chest in very warm water, bandaged foot resting on the edge of the tub. To her surprise, as he gently bathed her and washed her hair, his mien seemed troubled by emotions she found herself unable to understand. From time to time he would mutter questions to himself, and shake his head, as though in response. At last, when she was clean, he plucked her from the tub, dried her with an enormous towel as she sat on the edge, pulled the plug from the bath, and went away for a moment. She began to use his absence as an opportunity to put her Pixie dress back on, but when he returned and saw what she was doing, he stopped her.

'Don't put that dirty thing back on,' he said into her wide-eyed confusion. 'Here . . . I've got something clean for you to wear.'

Malina had never been without her Pixie dress; not once in her life. Indeed, it was part of her. But in this world, it was nothing more than a torn bit of gauzy raiment. She could no more heal it than she could heal herself. Rowf then produced an enormous teal-blue sweatshirt, which he began pulling over her head. She gave a little yelp of pain and alarm.

'Sorry Did I catch your nose?' With some difficulty, he got her arms into the sleeves, which he hitched up to free her hands. 'Like dressing a kid,' he though to himself in wonder.

Malina was unprepared for the sensation of wearing clothing that belonged to Rowf. It was bulky and soft and warm, and hung down to her knees. The feel of it sent a strange tingling thrill throughout her body, and she found herself staring up at him with the shy delight of some elusive discovery.

The sight of her like that, her clean appearance, and the effect the bulky shirt had on her pleasing form, prompted him to say, 'Good God, but you're a pretty little thing. I hope my girlfriend doesn't get the wrong idea.'

Afterwards, he performed a strange ritual; affixed to the wall over a small cauldron mounted atop a pedestal which stood waist high, was a mirror. Malina had heard of such things being in the homes of Elves. Absolutely captivated, sitting on the edge of the big cauldron, she watched as Rowf wiped magic foam over his face, then, studying himself in the mirror, scraped off both the foam and his rough beard. When he was done, he wiped his face with a towel and smiled at her wryly. It occurred to her that he had gone through this ritual for some purpose, though she couldn't imagine why he would do such a thing.

Pran had certainly been wrong about one thing; there was magic in this world, but it was of a sort she did not comprehend, and she found herself wondering if the Elf, too, would be surprised by some of the strange things she had so far seen in this world.

Later that morning, Rowf opened a closet by the front door. Inside were various types of garments hanging suspended by thin wooden triangles that were hung from a transverse pole by metal hooks. Selecting one, he removed it and got dressed in a baggy blue garment that covered his clothing from neck to ankle, and pulled an enormous pair of boots over his heavy woolen socks. He then got a pair of gloves, which he didn't don, but instead stuffed into a back pocket of his covering garment, selected one of several odd-looking hats from the top shelf in the closet, and placed it on his head.

Seeing that Malina watched him with rapt curiosity, with a grin, he selected another such hat and placed it on her head. She pulled it off once more to have a look at it. It was a simple black cloth cap like a dome, with a stiff attachment shaped like an enormous thumbnail sewn to the front of it. How odd, she thought. The Elves often wore brimmed hats, but the brims went all the way around. She studied the arcane symbol on the front of the cap with some trepidation.

'Whatsamatter? Don't like the Yankees?' Rowf asked her.

She had no idea what his words meant, but from his tone, she gathered that the hat had important powers; possibly it could protect her from danger? Hastily, she put it on once more.

'Now,' Rowf told her, 'I need you to stay here while I go to work.' He began to leave, moving towards the great wagon-thing that stood in the shade of the enormous oak tree. She gaped at him forlornly, realizing that he was going away. With a sinking feeling, she surmised that now that he'd fed, sheltered, and tended to her, he had just told her that she was once again on her own. Downcast, she began hobbling down the stairs, away from the house. Perhaps her luck would hold out, and she would find another.

Ralph had just got seated in the truck when he noticed the girl hobbling towards the open field. He watched her for a moment, wondering what the devil she was doing. Didn't she realize that in the direction she was going, that there was nothing for at least sixty miles or more?

Taking a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and wondering what he was getting himself into, he got out of the truck and went after her. She stopped and faced him when she heard his voice, her mien fearful.

'Hey ' Ralph shouted at her, 'You're not supposed to walk on that foot.' As he approached her, she began backing away, her eyes wide with fear. He stopped a couple of paces away, trying to decide what to do.

Could he even risk leaving her alone in the house? That was certainly the question. She might very well wander off again. Regardless, he would worry about her the entire time he was at work. With a sigh, moving towards her in what he hoped was a non-threatening way, he picked her up and began heading towards the truck.

Malina, wondering what she had done wrong, lay in his arms and stared in the direction the Human was taking her. With rising excitement and trepidation, she thought that perhaps he was going to take her for a ride in the wagon-thing. She liked wagons. There was a kindly old Elven merchant, a Pixie-friend, who used to pass near her home and let her ride with him. The old man (at least, he seemed old to her) always had a few sweetmeats and some wine that he would share with her.

When the big Human reached the wagon, he opened one of its doors and placed her on the seat, which was wide and comfortable; not like the wooden seats of Elven wagons. He then went round to the other side and got in. Mystified, she had fully expected him to leave for a bit and return with a team of horses, or some other beasts of burden. Instead, he reached down and did something, and some great beast came awake with a roar. Yelping in fear and surprise, she jumped up on the seat, where she stayed until she was sure that the beast wasn't going to come through the floor. She hardly noticed that Rowf gaped at her reaction, before shaking his head, engaging the clutch, and set the wagon in motion.

Even through her abating fear, Malina was elated by this part of travelling on a wagon; the moment when it started moving. It made one feel as though one were beginning a great journey, though she had only travelled on one for very short periods at a time.

As the wagon lurched along, then turned left onto the dirt road, a strange-looking object slid along the front ledge. Rowf made a grab for it, but missed. Wondering if it would hurt her, Malina batted at it to keep the thing from sliding off the ledge altogether, then backed away and stared at it in fascination.

Once more, regarding her reaction with wonder, the big Human reached across to pick up the object, and with a smile, opened it up and tried to put it on her. When she backed away and put her hands up in surprise to fend him off, he made reassuring noises once more, until she let him put the object on her. At once, opening her eyes and looking through the thing, she stared around in rapt wonder and gasped. The world had suddenly become utterly transformed Lowering the sunglasses from her eyes, the world became the same dull place it had been before. But put them back in place, and everything became clearer, sharper, heightened in some manner

'Like a kid,' Ralph though to himself. 'Or like she's from some third-world country. Someplace poor, where there isn't any sort of technology.' He wondered where there could possibly be such a place, but soon gave up the effort, putting the solution down to his own lack of education. Absently, he reached down and turned on the radio. Though he was beginning to get used to the way the girl reacted to things, still he marvelled at her look of open-mouthed fear and astonishment. Thinking to keep her amused, he took her hand and placed in on the tuner knob, showing her how to flip through the channels. After several minutes of moving from station to station, he was just beginning to regret having shown her, when she finally settled on something that caught her interest and left it alone.

'Good choice,' he though wryly, listening to The first time ever I saw your face.

As the truck lurched and bumped along the dusty back roads, she sat now with her bandaged foot up on the dashboard. Rowf had made the magic music box play something he found more palatable to his own taste. The raucous noise coming from somewhere in the front of the strange wagon thing was somehow agreeable to her, though, and she found she liked Rowf's awful attempts at singing along.

Her mood was much brighter than it had been for a long time. Feeling safe in Rowf's home, she had slept well and deeply; not fitfully as she was used. When sleeping in the open, one had to be vigilant, even when asleep. But to sleep undisturbed for an entire night was something entirely new to her, and she found that to be awake, after being so well-rested, greatly sharpened the senses, like cleaning mud off the pretty stones she used to find along the stream near to her home. Once washed, and while still wet, they would appear like jewels for a time, until they dried once more and lost their lustre.

The strange wagon they were travelling in seemed to have some animal inside it that made the oddest noises of any beast she had ever heard.

Once past her initial fear, she thought at first that Rowf was abusing the poor creature, but soon realised that it wasn't moaning in pain every time Rowf worked the levers. When she listened more closely, she found that the noises it made were a natural part of it.

As the day wore on, they began to approach a small group of houses that appeared in the distance, and Rowf drove the wagon to the rear of one of these. He then stopped the wagon and got out. Going to the window on his side, she watched as he went to the back of the wagon and unwound a long, black flexible tube which was rolled up on a big drum, and put the end of the tube into a big metal container at the rear of the house. He then returned to the rear of the wagon and pulled a lever, which made the strange animal whine loudly for a while. When this had gone on for some time, Rowf made the animal stop whining, detached the long black tube, and rolled it back up on the rear of the wagon.

Malina had to marvel at the great distances the wagon could travel without apparent need of food or water. It could also travel faster than any horse she had ever seen. This animal must be very large and powerful indeed

She leaned out the window for a while, enjoying the rush of wind against her face and the roar in her ears, until she almost lost her hat. Sometime later, laying with her feet up, she rested the backs of her ankles on the bottom on the open window, feeling the air vacillate between tepid and chilly as it whipped between her bare toes.

After they had gone to the rear of a good many houses, when the sun was high overhead, Rowf took a road that was longer and straighter than the others. Eventually, this intersected with the strangest road Malina had ever seen. It was smooth beyond belief, its surface flat and black, with a pair of white stripes down its center. The wagon began gliding along as though it were floating.

Before they reached town, Malina sensed that this road must be very important, and probably led to the castle where the local King lived. A couple of times along the way, smaller wagons came hurtling down the road directly toward them. She was so certain that they were going to collide head-on with Ralph's wagon that she climbed up on the seat, poised to jump out the window to safety. But each time, they passed harmlessly on the left with a rush of wind and a roar. One man casually waved to Rowf from his window, and Rowf casually waved back, a faint smile on his lips. She gathered from his ease that this was all perfectly natural, and she allowed herself to relax once more.

The town, which was very near now, looked very strange and depressing to Malina. There was no fair castle here; evidently the local King wasn't doing well. Instead, there were a large number of squat brick shapes, most of which were only one or two storeys tall. Drab people moved unhurriedly about with no interest in their surroundings, though the place obviously deserved their lack of attention.

Instead of going directly into the town, however, Rowf skirted around the perimeter, at last coming to a stop at a very odd place. There were huge metal barrels here, and an assortment of bizarrely twisted pipes and other metal objects. Rowf drove the wagon under one of these, and a man wearing gloves did something to the top of the enormous barrel on the back of the wagon, and put a huge black hose into the top of the barrel.

So that's what the awful smell was He was filling the barrel with oil . . . she could hear it gushing in, and the smell was almost too much. She knew about oil, because driven by curiosity, she had once explored an unlighted and unattended Elven lamp to find out how it worked. But what could these humans possibly want with such enormous quantities of the foul-smelling liquid? When the barrel was full, the man on top slapped it twice, and Rowf drove on.

The next place they encountered was even stranger yet. There were many different kinds of wagons here, some larger than the one they were in, but most were smaller. Lifting her sunglasses, peeking over the edge of the door through the open window, Malina watched with her heart in her mouth as a man walked to the front of one of these and opened it, half-expecting to see some powerful animal poised to spring out. But there was no animal to be seen; just a small iron chest. She surmised that the animal must be inside this, for from the way it moved and vibrated she could tell that something was inside. The iron chest was obviously very thick and heavy. What kind of animal so small could possibly be so powerful? She found herself thinking that she would like to see this animal, but from a safe distance.

When Rowf came back to the wagon, he leaned inside and handed her what she thought was a narrow loaf of bread, but on closer examination found that it had been sliced in half, and filled with thinly sliced meats, vegetables and cheese. Rowf showed her by example that it was to be eaten whole. It was a little dry, but went down well with beer, and it was good and filling.

The attendant spotted Malina and said to Ralph, 'Where'd you pick her up? She looks like she just got out of a scrap at Murph's.'

Ralph had never liked Ian, and he didn't like the dirty leer he was giving Malina now through Ralph's open door.

'She's not the kind of girl who goes to Murphy's,' he said.

'That can be fixed,' said Ian with a dirty laugh. 'Need some help breaking her in?'

Malina's suspicion that Rowf could be big and dangerous was suddenly confirmed when Rowf picked the attendant up by the throat. To her surprise, and relief, Rowf didn't kill the attendant, but merely said a few terse words to him, and dropped him to the ground. Obviously, for Rowf, demonstrating that he could easily kill the attendant was enough.

She found this an admirable quality, one that she hadn't expected from the big, lumbering human.

When Rowf got back in the wagon and angrily got under way again, he sighed. Turning to Malina, he smiled and shrugged, as though to apologize for the incident.

But in his own mind, Ralph was troubled, wondering at the sudden fit of inexplicable rage he had just experienced. Such an emotion was as incongruous to his nature as a prizefighter being presented with a bouquet of flowers. Ralph found that for all of Malina's lack of talk that he enjoyed her company. She wasn't easily bored, and she never complained. She could be stubborn when she wanted something, but he found he liked that too. He had a hunch, though, that she couldn't stay at his house for long. Especially not if he hung around with louts like Ian, and several others he had known for years who hung around Murphy's. They were bad news where a naïve girl like Malina was concerned. To date, even with his girlfriend, he had never cared who he hung out with, so long as he had something to do. The girl sitting beside him didn't fit into that mold, and this realisation caused him to experience strange unfamiliar feelings. For his whole life he had never given any thought to selecting who he spent his time with.

He was everybody's friend.

As his workday came closer to ending, however, Ralph began to wonder what he would have to do about Malina when he went to see his girlfriend at Murphy's. With a mental shrug, he decided to take the direct route, taking Malina along and introducing her to his girlfriend.

Malina recognised Murphy's for what it was the moment Rowf drove the wagon into an area next to the tavern, where many other wagons were parked. She became excited, and a bit apprehensive. To the best of her knowledge, no Pixie had ever set foot in one of the Elves' taverns. This was as close as the Elves ever came to mischief, and they shared their taverns only with Dwarves and Humans. Even Pixies knew that they lacked enough restraint to socialize in such close quarters with so many.

When Rowf carried her inside and set her on a couch before a glass-topped table, several of the humans there, male and female, hooted and whistled at them. Malina was almost oblivious to this, however. Her attention was mainly focused on a brightly lit dais where a beautiful young female was doing a primitive fertility dance. Mesmerised, she watched as the dancer played to the enthusiastic suitors who surrounded her on all sides. Which one will she choose? Malina wondered. To her disappointment, when her dance was done the woman left, apparently finding no suitor that interested her.

Rowf spoke with another woman, equally attractive, who glanced at Malina speculatively, then brought Rowf and Malina two bottles of brown glass. Testing the contents, Malina tasted a much superior beer, she thought, to the kind Rowf had given her earlier. Several people came and talked to Rowf, some obviously curious about Malina. One man came up to her and asked her something. Rowf shook his head, said some words, and pointed at Malina's bandaged foot. Disappointed, and showing no concern for her foot, the man left.

Rowf said something that sounded like an oath.

To Malina's surprise, the woman who had been dancing came unnoticed, sat beside Rowf, giving him an all-too-obviously restrained peck on the cheek, and pointedly asked him about Malina. She had removed her makeup, tied back her long chestnut hair into a pony-tail, and was wearing clothing that was much more conservative, obviously having tired of the game of mate-selection. Malina frowned. Or perhaps she was Rowf's mate? From the way the young woman acted, it was obvious that some close bond existed between the two. A sister, perhaps? But the two did not look at all related. For no reason she could put into words, Malina felt her heart sink. And there was some other indefinable feeling, like disappointment mixed with subtle feelings of possessiveness and betrayal. But why should she feel things like that toward a Human? Noticing her look, the Human girl's features hardened, making Malina feel very uncomfortable.

Though very young, there was an habitual hardness about Deborah that spoke of painful lessons learned in trust and betrayal; yet beneath her tough exterior, for those who knew her well, there lurked a timid vulnerability.

'Malina,' said Rowf, 'Deborah.' The dancer extended her hand to Malina, who wondered what the woman was doing. Though the dancer was uncomfortable with Malina's presence, it was obvious that she was trying to put a good face on it.

'She doesn't speak any English,' Ralph told her.

Deborah forced a smile and said, 'Oh, a furriner.' Taking Malina's hand, she shook it, saying, 'Welcome to Nowheresville, pardner.' She was putting on an affected accent, making an effort to sound friendly to Malina. The other woman returned, bringing Deborah a beer as well.

'Got yourself a mail-order bride, eh Ralph?' said the dancer as she paid for her drink. She had immediately recognised the clothes the girl was wearing, and thought the reason all too obvious.

Ralph's smile was more complex than the one Deborah was used to seeing. 'Very funny. I found her on my property yesterday afternoon. I haven't quite figured out what to do with her yet.'

Deborah's expression abruptly changed however, and moving over to sit beside Malina, she reached up to remove the girl's sunglasses. Mistaking her intent, Malina backed away, thinking the woman meant to take the sunglasses from her.

'It's okay, sweetie, I just want to have a look at you.' Her tone reassured Malina that she meant no ill, though she didn't know how to interpret the woman's sudden change in attitude toward her. Malina let her remove the glasses.

Deborah sucked her breath in anger. Turning to Ralph, she demanded, 'Did you do this to her?'

'I found her like that,' said Ralph, telling her only part of the truth. 'Her foot too. When I did, I called Doc Wallace to come over and see to her. You can ask him if you like.' Rather defensively, and not just referring to her injuries, he added, 'I never laid a hand on her.'

'What do you mean, you found her like that?'

Ralph told her how he had found the girl on his front "lawn." 'I think she just stepped on the rake,' he added, not wanting to fuel Deborah's suspicions further.

'In a pig's ear Somebody's gone and beat her up and ditched her. You should have called the police.'

'Be my guest,' said Ralph, lighting a cigarette, wishing Deborah's volatile anger would subside, 'but you'll have to figure out what language she speaks before you do anything.'

'Well,' said Deborah doubtfully, 'whoever did this and abandoned her is probably long gone by now anyway. What a damn shame She's such a pretty little thing.' After a moment's thought, she said, 'Any idea what you're going to do with her?'

Tiredly, Ralph replied, 'I haven't got the foggiest notion. I'd leave her with someone, but I can't think of anyone I'd trust her with.'

Deborah heard something different in his reply than he had intended that made her smile, though without humour.

'It is pretty much over between us,' she told him, though she swallowed at the hurt she tried to conceal. 'I mean, we've had an on-again, off-again thing for years, but I don't think either of us thinks that it's eventually going to end in matrimonial bliss, or anything like that. We never could seem to . . . well . . . get it together.' Just to needle him, she added, 'Maybe she'll make a real man out 'o you yet.'

This had been a standing joke between them from the beginning. They both well knew that Ralph did not have the means to resurrect his parent's old farm, and the extinct way of life that went along with it. Before drinking himself to death out of despair, his father used to bitterly complain that he could no longer provide for his family like a "real" man, though to his credit he had managed to hold off the creditors by selling off all the equipment, the remaining money of which Ralph still used to hang on. Just as broken in her own way, Ralph's mother soon followed. By some miracle, Ralph had always found the means, by driving the oil truck and working at odd jobs, to stay just one step ahead of the tax man and hang on to the family farm, though he had no illusions but that the day was coming when the nestegg his father had created by selling all of the farm's equipment would finally run out.

Ralph, however, made a dismissing gesture. 'You don't understand. She's not girlfriend material. I mean, you wouldn't believe what she doesn't know-'

'Is she legal to be in here?' Deborah cut him off, thinking naïvety and youth to be the same thing.

Sighing, Ralph said, as patiently as he could, 'I'm talking technology. She was playing with the light switches and the radio like she's never seen them before.'

Deborah frowned with concern, taking a fresh look at the girl. 'Maybe she's retarded or something. You'd better find out if she's missing from a group home or a mental hospital.'

'She's not retarded,' Ralph replied with conviction. 'Remember Dave's cousin Nicky, the way he was? Well, just watch this-'

Taking out his Zippo lighter, he proferred it to the girl with a meaningful nod. From the look of anticipation on his face, it was clear to her that he wanted her do demonstrate the trick he had shown her in the truck.

Taking the lighter, lips pursed with concentration, she took it between thumb and first two fingers, squeezed while flicking and turning her wrist, and-

Deborah stared at the burning lighter.

'See?' Ralph told her. 'I can hardly ever do that. I mean, anyone can flip one open, but I've only seen a few people that can flip one open and light it at the same time, all the time. Remember how we and our friends used to practice doing it, back in school? She got it on the first go.'

'You're right,' Deborah muttered. 'Nicky could never have done something like that. He couldn't even dress himself.'

During this last exchange, Malina noticed that the attendant Rowf had picked up by the throat was in the bar, sitting at the far side on a tall stool with his friends, watching Rowf over his shoulder with an unfriendly air. When he caught Rowf's eye, however, he looked away.

Noticing this, Deborah said, 'What's up with him? Ian never sits 'way over there.'

'He does now,' replied Ralph.

They left before closing time. Ralph could see that Malina was getting tired, and he found he didn't like the way the men in the bar were eyeing her.

Having eaten in the bar, they went straight home and to bed. Ralph had gone to the trouble of putting the linen in the wash that morning, and as she lay on the couch, which Rowf had covered with fresh-smelling clean sheets, Malina's head was full of the strange sights and sounds of this world as she drifted off to sleep. And a new realization stirred within her that she couldn't put a name to. It was more a feeling than anything else, and it was most intense when she was near to Rowf ; or rather, it was intense, but in a peculiar sort of way, for in his presence, she found herself free from anxiety or care.

As she slept, she dreamt of her home in the Elven Kingdom. She was looking for someone she couldn't find, and grief threatened to overwhelm her. But then, she heard Rowf speaking words, and a wonderful feeling enveloped her, as though he soothed her with his touch and his presence. She slept the rest of the night away, undisturbed.