Knights Errand Excerpt

Knight’s Errand

by “Amaranth Rose”

Chapter 1

The two men eating in the corner booth of the hamburger joint deliberately attracted very little attention. They both wore faded jeans and flannel working shirts open at the throat. They gave every appearance of being a couple of local farmers out to lunch at the burger shop. The younger man was gesturing at the food. He appeared to be in his twenties, quick and intense. His lively gray eyes were focused on the tray in front of him.

“How do these people live on this?” His voice was soft, but intense. He held up a French fry. “What shouldn’t be cooked, is practically incinerated, and what should be cooked thoroughly is half cooked and teeming with bacteria.” He indicated the meat on the hamburger in front of him.

The older man looked at him, amusement glinting in his coffee brown eyes, a half smile on his lips.

“Well, Jeb, these people seem to thrive on it. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

His slightly grayed hair and conservative demeanor suggested a man in his fifties, alert and intelligent. His trim frame, now compressed into the wooden bench, reached six feet and a half when extended fully. The younger man was a few inches shorter, but no less fit and muscular. They were together what local connoisseurs of the gender would call “a fit pair”.

Jeb glanced around the room, taking in the inhabitants, from families with young children to two very elderly women.

“Yes, I know. I just can’t help being amazed at these people. They’re incredibly sturdy. Yet their diet is….” He gestured helplessly. “Indescribable.” He made a face, pointing to the lettuce. “This green stuff is quite indigestible.”

His companion laughed quietly.

“I think many things may amaze you on this trip.” A pensive look crossed his face, settling there momentarily like a cloud over a hot summer afternoon. “Let’s just remember what we’re here for.”

He regarded his own food for a moment, then resolutely picked up a fry and bit into it.

“You‘d just as well get used to the cuisine, it may be a while,” he said amusedly.

Jeb regarded the burger and fries a while longer with the utmost distaste, then resignedly dedicated himself to consuming it. It was food, after all, nourishing if not appetizing, and it might be some time before they ate again.

They were making good time, driving down a narrow two-lane highway through a valley of farms and fields under a leaden sky, when suddenly around a curve they came across the deer. Came into them, more like. A dozen deer sprang into view at once, some on either side of the narrow roadway, and a couple in the lane ahead of them. Terror-stricken, they scrambled frantically, hooves skittering on the pavement, their slender legs flailing madly.

The older man was driving, and he braked hard, swerving to avoid them. The deer scattered into the woods beside the roadway, vanishing like ghosts. A tire went over the edge into the muddy margin. It caught, dragging in the mud, and the car slewed sideways before going over the side of the road and down into the ditch. It was a short, very bumpy ride to the bottom, and a sudden jolt at the end flung both men hard against the dash of the car, in spite of their seatbelts.

Jeb glanced out the car window. The patchy snow on the ground and skeletal trees gave silent testimony to the wintry weather, as did the leaden gray clouds overhead. Other than being pretty well shaken up, the car seemed to be okay; in fact, it was still running. His partner reached over and turned off the ignition, then groaned painfully and grabbed at his arm.

“Master! Are you hurt?” Jeb asked, his voice full of concern.

“Shh! You must call me Doug, or we’ll give ourselves away.” He felt his arm experimentally, about halfway between his wrist and elbow. “I think I hit it on something on the way down,” he said ruefully. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

Jeb looked at him with concern. “What shall we do now?” It was rapidly getting cold in the car.

Doug winced as he reached for the key again. He sat back and closed his eyes in concentration. In a moment the key turned in the ignition switch, untouched, and the engine grunted to life. He eased the car into forward and gave it gas; it did not budge. He tried reversing, with the same results. They looked up and down the highway; the last house they’d passed was several miles back, and they could detect no traces of life in the direction they were heading. Doug closed his eyes and became very still. Silence flooded the car. At last he nodded.

“We wait,” he said calmly, shutting off the engine. “Someone will come.” After a moment Jeb nodded, and began rummaging through the contents of the back seat, half of which was now on the floor. He picked up two thick blankets and handed one to Doug.

“Thanks,” he said, wrapping himself snugly. Soon they both resembled large fuzzy cocoons in the front seat.

“I wish I had your confidence.” Jeb looked over at Doug. “This doesn’t look like a very heavily traveled road.”

“Someone will come. It would be much too convenient for the High Council for us to disappear without a trace in a snowstorm. Someone will come, if only to thwart them.” He smiled.

Jeb regarded him soberly.

“What are we doing running errands for them anyway? I didn’t think you were on very good terms with them in the first place.”

“I’m not,” Doug said ironically, looking at him. “But they have their ways of pushing buttons and pulling strings, even with people they’ve branded as rogues and renegades. All it takes is for a situation to get out of hand, beyond anyone else’s ability to deal with it, and they can find all kinds of ways to put the screws to you and make you do their bidding.” He sighed. “If they can’t put pressure on you directly, they’ll find other ways. Family, friends, apprentices, business. They even managed to drag Master Shan-ji out of his self-proclaimed retirement for this one. I wonder what they threatened him with?”

Jeb looked at him curiously. “I thought you volunteered for this mission.”

Doug snorted. “I was impressed into servitude, my friend. Conscripted. Temporarily enslaved.” He sounded bitter. “‘Volunteered’ is a polite fiction. I bartered part of my life for something I wanted from them. I was quite content running Modraya and the Ring Ship Corporation. But when the High Council wants you, they find some way to jerk your chain.” He stared out the window at the thickening clouds. “If it hadn’t been for the fact that Rangar’s brother was among the missing, I’d still have told them to shove off.” He sighed deeply. “That was what swayed me, in the end.”

Jeb looked at him for a long time. “I hope it was worth it.”

Doug looked at him for a long moment. “It will be,” he said softly. “Providing they keep their end of the bargain. You’re well past the point where you should have been Knighted, Jeb. In exchange for my, er, ‘cooperation’ on this assignment, they have assured me they will consider your petition without prejudice. You deserve the advancement. You’ve definitely earned it.”

The sky grew steadily darker, its leaden gray rolls of clouds pressing toward the ground, heavy with the promise of snow. It was more than two hours later before they heard the sound of the first vehicle since theirs on the roadway. It slowed as it neared the curve, passed them, then stopped a ways down the road and turned around, coming to a stop just off the pavement above them on the narrow grassy strip that passed for a shoulder. After a long, hesitant moment, a woman got out and peered down at their car.

She was clad in jeans and a heavy jacket, and a mass of wavy hair the color of burnished bronze fell halfway to her waist. It was caught back from her face with a ribbon, and fell thickly like a cape around her shoulders. The icy breeze was frothing it around her head, and she put one hand up to hold it back out of her face. She was perhaps fifteen feet above them, and a world away, with a steep, muddy slope separating her from them.

Jeb got out of the car. “Hello!” he yelled.

She regarded him for a moment. “Are you all right?” she hollered down at them.

“I’m fine. My friend hurt his arm, though.” He glanced in at Doug.

“Tell her we need a tow-truck,” Doug said quietly.

“I think we need a tow-truck,” Jeb relayed.

She regarded him with some displeasure.

“Well, that’s going to take a couple days. Unless you’re really made of money,” she surveyed the car, taking in its age and general appearance, “and you don’t look like it.” She seemed hesitant for a moment. Then Jeb shivered noticeably, and that seemed to make up her mind.

“Well, you can’t stay there. Can you two make it up the bank?” It was fairly steep and muddy all along that side. “No, wait a moment.”

From the trunk of her car she produced a hank of rope and fastened one end to her car. She held one hand on the rope to keep from slipping while she came down the bank.

Doug climbed out of the car to meet her. Something about her seemed distinctly familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. As he watched her descend, a sudden gust of wind caught her hair, billowing it up around her head like a nimbus momentarily. It gave her a somewhat ethereal look. A sunbeam pierced the gathering gloomy clouds in that moment, and for an instant her hair scintillated with a myriad of flashing highlights.

‘She looks like an angel,’ he thought. ‘She has starfire in her hair.’ His breath caught in his chest, and he didn’t think it was just from the cold blast. A curious sense of peace and calm enfolded his soul in that moment. Then the gust died down and her hair dropped back down around her shoulders. The moment passed as quickly as it had come, so that he almost thought he might have imagined it. She looked up at him as she drew near. She stopped just out of his reach, eyeing him warily for a long moment.

‘A rather frightened angel,’ he thought, judging by her actions. Something about her seemed very familiar and comfortable. It was as though he’d known her for a long time, despite the fact that they’d not yet met. An eerie feeling tingled down his spine and tickled his toes on its way out. He shivered slightly, but not from the cold.

“What’s wrong with your arm?” she asked briskly.

“I’m not sure. I think it may be broken. I must have hit it pretty hard on something on the way down.” Her irises were a curious brown and green mixture of color, Doug noted, as she looked intently into his coffee brown eyes for a long moment. It was like looking into a mixture of forests and plowed fields.

“Let me see it,” she said firmly, still looking into his eyes.

There was compassion in her look, and fear; the two held a delicate balance. The eerie feeling that he knew her somehow was growing steadily stronger. That wasn’t possible, though; it had been thirty years or more since he’d visited this planet last, and she looked very young.

‘Trust me, little one,’ he thought silently as his eyes pleaded with hers. ‘You’ll come to no harm from me.’ He smiled reassuringly. She stepped slightly closer. She looked as if she were tensed to spring into flight at an instant’s notice.

He held out his arm for her inspection, moving slowly so as not to frighten her. She looked carefully at the place where he said it hurt worst, and then she placed her outstretched hand near his arm at the wrist, slowly moving it to his elbow. A creeping warmth followed the path of her hand past his arm, though no contact was ever made. Doug felt a slight “click” as her hand passed over the place where he was fairly certain it was broken. He thought he saw a faint golden glow beneath her palm, but he wasn’t sure.

“Well, it’s not broken,” she pronounced calmly. “But we’d better get moving before you two freeze to death.” She shivered slightly. “Better grab all your stuff, there’s no telling when we’ll get back.”

“Why will it take a few days for a tow-truck?” Doug asked once they were under way. He was settled in the front seat, and Jeb and their small kit of gear were in the back. Doug studied her closely. There was something about her that seemed very comfortable and familiar; he just couldn’t quite put a finger on it.

“Well, ordinarily it wouldn’t,” she replied, “but this is Thanksgiving week, and the tow truck driver lives in Emerson, that’s the nearest town. You probably came through it on the way to your ditch. He goes to see his daughter and son-in-law for Thanksgiving week every year, and they’re three hundred miles away. It tends to make people around here think long and hard about mixing drinking and driving. The next nearest tow truck is in Sagoin, that’s eighty miles. He charges by the mile, and he’s not cheap. So, your car is in the ditch until Harry gets back, unless you’ve got money to burn. And frankly, gentlemen, you don’t look like it.”

She spared him a glance. “Don’t feel bad, Clem Nelson came through that patch last week and trimmed the herd by two. Totaled his SUV. Until this last snowfall, you could still see the blood on the pavement.” Doug grimaced. “You would have seen his tracks if you’d made it a little further around the curve.” Suddenly she braked and halted in a patch of paving at the entrance to a short road leading to a field.

“Wait here,” she ordered tersely. She opened the trunk and drew something out, then went over to a large patch of snow and scooped some of it up. She returned to the car and thrust a plastic bag of snow at Doug.

“Here, put it on the bruise. It’ll help keep it from getting worse.”

He obeyed silently, smiling slightly. She gave him a quizzical glance.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. Just that I should have thought of it myself.”

She glanced at him. “Shock does that to people,” she said reassuringly.

As she drove, she questioned them. No, they didn’t have any contacts or relatives in the area, they were en route to an unspecified destination, and, as she’d surmised, not terribly well off. Though she doubted they were as impoverished as they tended to let on. What the heck, nobody wants to get robbed, she acknowledged to herself. They talked as they drove on. She glanced at the clock on the dash and bit her lip.

“Is something wrong?” Doug asked quietly.

She flicked an intense appraising glance over each of them. The two men felt as if they’d been bared to the soul momentarily. They exchanged glances silently.

‘Was that what I think it was?’ came the younger man’s thought.

‘I’m not sure. I feel as if I’ve been soul-searched,’ replied his partner's thoughts in response. ‘At any rate, we’d best be very cautious.’

She seemed to be struggling internally. Finally she spoke, with great reluctance.

“I’ll have to take you to our house for the moment. My son will be home from school any minute, if he’s not there already, and he’ll expect me to be there. Once he’s home, I can see about running you into town to the hospital, if you want to have a doctor look at your arm. I think it’ll be just fine with some ice and a little bit of care, though.”

It was beginning to snow, and from the looks of the clouds, they were in for a lot.

“That’s very kind of you,” Doug said. “We don’t wish to be any trouble to you.” He watched her closely.

“Too late for that,” she muttered to herself. Only Doug, with his Lysaran-enhanced senses, overheard her. “No trouble,” she prevaricated, parking the car near the large barn.

The old farmhouse at the end of the long driveway was warm and welcoming. She led them into the kitchen, which contained a large rectangular table covered with a green-and-white checkered oilcloth, surrounded by a fence of chairs. She grabbed up a large, incredibly fluffy, black and white tomcat from one of the chairs and bade them sit while she made some tea.

The cat, Char, short for “Charcoal”, retreated to a strategic position beside the stove. He eyed the two men very suspiciously, hackles raised, growling slightly, until she told him they were all right. Then he carefully inspected them both, and finally hopped up in Jeb’s lap, much to her amusement.

As she handed him a cup of tea, Doug looked up and said, “Thank you…” and suddenly he stopped.

“I’m terribly sorry, I’ve clean forgotten my manners. You rescue us from a ditch and take us into a warm home and give us hot tea, and I don’t even know your name.” Was it his imagination, or was she looking at him with a very wary look?

“I’m Doug Chandler, and this,” he gestured toward the younger man, “is my associate, Jeb Johnson.” He gazed at her, meeting her eyes, holding her look. “I don’t know what to call you.”

She continued to hold his gaze, and the moment lengthened. Jeb looked from one to the other. Finally she said evenly,

“There are many names I have been called. I am called Amaranth by choice.”

Both of them knew in that moment that this was not her true given name, but one she had used and was comfortable with. A name she was using as a shield, perhaps, with them. They understood and accepted this; after all, they were using assumed names themselves.

“Thank you, Amaranth, for your kindness and hospitality,” Doug said gravely.

“You’re welcome,” she said in a small voice.

She was getting water for a second pot of tea when they heard steps bounding up the porch, and almost immediately thereafter a young man burst into the kitchen, a sheaf of papers in his hand.

“Hey Mom, good news, I got good news for ya!” He came flying into the kitchen and screeched to a halt at the sight of the two strangers. Char leapt out of Jeb’s lap at a prodigious speed and disappeared. The boy was so flustered that he dropped the papers.

“What? Who?” he gulped. In the next breath, he asked, “Am I in some kind of trouble?” He glanced around, taking in the two men, Doug with an ice pack on his arm.

“Shasta!” Amaranth scolded softly. “Don’t run in the house!”

Jeb bent down and picked up the papers and envelopes, silently handing them to the youth.

“If anyone’s in trouble, it is us,” Doug said quietly. “We drove into a ditch avoiding some deer, and your mother was kind enough to bring us here and take care of us.”

He regarded the boy carefully. He had the same green-brown eyes as his mother, but his hair was blonde, while hers was a rich reddish-brown. He was sturdily built, like a hefty sapling, springy and flexible. He seemed to be in constant motion, even when he stood still, as now. All of fourteen perhaps, a bloom not yet in its full flower.

Amaranth put her arm around her son. “They’re all right. Char likes them.” She smiled; he still looked uncertain. “Shasta, you had some good news?” she prompted him.

“Oh, yeah, there’s some money in the mail.”

He handed her the mail. She thumbed through it, smiling when she saw one envelope in particular. She laid the stack on the counter beside her.

“It’s really snowing outside,” he offered casually. “The roads are already getting nasty.”

“You’d better get your chores done right away, then. And be sure and turn on the lights so the birds have heat.”

He nodded and turned to go. Jeb stood up, his six-plus feet of wiry frame making the kitchen seem suddenly small and cramped. His gray eyes caught Shasta’s.

“Could I be of some help?”

Shasta eyed him speculatively. “You ever herded farm animals?” he asked.

“Well,” Jeb glanced at Doug, who suddenly unaccountably developed a cough, “yes, I’ve had some farm experience.”

Doug’s cough quickly passed, and he looked at Jeb.

“Yes, go and help him in any way you can,” he said, his eyes twinkling merrily.

After Shasta and Jeb had left, Amaranth looked over at Doug, his mouth still retaining the lingering twitch of a smile.

“What was that all about?”

Doug hesitated a moment before answering.

“Jeb has a great deal more enthusiasm than experience, I’m afraid. He used to spend some time with relatives who owned a tree farm when he was younger, I gather. He doesn’t talk much about it.”

“Well, even tree farmers have to eat something, I expect. It’s cheaper to raise your own than buy, almost anywhere. I hope they had something like our birds,” she said. “They’re something else.” She dried her hands on the towel and sat down across the table from him.

“Now, let me see that arm.”

She examined his arm carefully with a sure, gentle touch. Her hand hovered over the injury for several long moments, and Doug felt warmth spreading through his arm.

“Well, I’m satisfied that it’s not broken,” she said. She stood and looked out the window. “But I do have some bad news for you.”

“Oh, what’s that?” Doug was flexing his fingers slowly, trying to ease out the soreness. He was studying her closely, trying to determine the source of his sense of familiarity. It was as if he’d found a close friend, though they’d just met.

“You’re going to be staying here for tonight, at least.” She did not sound pleased. She was looking out the kitchen window into the gathering dusk. Turning to face him, she said calmly, “We’re snowbound.”

This did not seem to perturb Doug in the least. A quiet “Hmm” was his only response to this news. He joined her at the window and together they watched the large, sticky flakes drifting down, piling on every branch and limb of the trees and coating the ground. Through the falling snow they could see glimpses of Shasta and Jeb rounding up the animals.

Doug flexed his hand; only a slight twinge remained. He looked down at his arm; the swelling was less. Noting his focus, she said lightly,

“It’ll be better in the morning.”

He looked at her and moved slightly toward her. She drew back, poised for flight. He sighed softly. “Someone has treated you very badly, little one,” he thought, noting her tense posture. He shifted away from her, and she relaxed a little.

“It’s better now, Amaranth. In fact, it’s almost well.” He studied her face for a moment. “You say you have been called many things. I would call you a healer.”

She gave him a sharp look that pierced the borders of his consciousness and searched quickly through the edges of his thoughts.

He withstood it calmly, making no defense, analyzing her probing mechanism as it winnowed his thoughts, determining his meaning and sieving through his motives. Definitely like soul-searching, he decided, but still unlike anything his people were used to.

“You understand about that.” It was a flat statement, not a question. He nodded. “Please don’t spread it about. Shasta knows. But the fewer that know about it, the better.” She shuddered slightly.

Instinctively he began to reach toward her in a comforting gesture, but stopped as he saw her draw back.

“I understand,” he said as gently and soothingly as he could. “And I’m very sorry.”

Her eyes flickered over him rapidly. “Sorry? Why?”

“The ability to heal is a very rare and precious gift, and you’ve been treated very badly because of it, I think.”

She looked down at the floor for a moment, then turned to look silently out the window so he could not see her face. After a while he said,

“It must have taken a great deal of courage to rescue us from that ditch, Amaranth.” She remained silent. “Thank you for taking a chance on us. We could have frozen to death out there in this.”

At last she sighed and turned to face him. Her eyes were bright, shimmering with tears she refused to shed.

“I could never have left you there. That would have been the equivalent of murder. And unlike some people I know, I’m not capable of that. Not yet, anyway.”

“I’m sure someone else would have come along eventually,” he said gently.

She shook her head.

“Not likely, at least for a couple of days. I wouldn’t have been on that road myself, except I had the car very heavily loaded, and it’s the nearest paved road. I was afraid the car would get bogged in the gravel roads, and I wanted to get here over as little of the gravel as possible. And I knew this was going to be a bad storm.” She sighed. “We’ll just have to make the best of it. I hope you two like to eat poultry.”

“We’re not finicky. But why poultry in particular?”

“Because that’s what we raise, and when we’re snowed in, it’s what there is to eat.”

Doug smiled. “I’m sure it will be fine. I think Jeb is getting rather sick of half-cooked hamburgers from fast-food places.” He grinned broadly.

Shasta and Jeb trooped in shortly, faces ruddy and flushed from the cold, hands half-frozen.

“Hey, Mom, did you get to the feed store today? We’re nearly out.”

“Sure did. It’s in the trunk. I hope it’s enough to last through this storm.” Amaranth was scrubbing potatoes at the sink. At the table, Doug was chopping an onion on a board, not very adeptly.

“Get warmed up before you go out to get it.”

“I know. If we wait a while, I can use the sled to haul it, too. What’s for supper?”

“I thought we’d have Macbeth tonight. Then we’ll have to decide tomorrow morning what to do from there.”

“But we were saving Macbeth for…” Shasta stopped suddenly and looked at the two men.

“Well, he’ll do to feed four, tonight. Thanksgiving will take care of itself. Now go wash up, or I’ll put you to work.”

Shasta left hurriedly, Jeb in his wake.

Doug looked up at her from the table, the onion temporarily forgotten.

“Macbeth?” Char had returned and was curled up on his feet, purring loudly

Amaranth chuckled. “He names all the birds. Macbeth was getting out of hand in the chicken yard, so, it was his time. I don’t think the ladies will miss him much, there’s still Caruso and Romeo and Romulus and Remus. But if there’s going to be four people for a few days, it might be time to think about Titania, or Oberon even. We might get through one of them, with four people.”

“Dare I ask what sort of bird Titania and Oberon are?”

“Turkeys,” she replied, laughing slightly.

“Which somehow accounts for them being named after fairies, I suppose.” He laughed; it made him look younger and even more attractive.

“Don’t go there,” she told her heart. “Don’t even think about it.”

“I think it had more to do with the fact that they were reading “Midsummer Night’s Dream” in school when we got the turkeys.” She finished making the stuffing and put it and the bird into the oven.

“Now, let’s see about that feed. And the eggs.” Char, disturbed from his perch on top of Doug’s feet, promptly curled up in front of the oven.

The Queen of Heaven

Chapter 2

“Amaranth, this is really great! Much better than that awful hamburger back at Emerson.” Jeb was getting a second helping of roast chicken and vegetables.

“Oh, you ate there? I’m surprised you’re still alive and well.”

Jeb looked up at her sharply; she was laughing. He looked cautiously to Doug for guidance.

“You see, Jeb, even some of the locals share your low opinion of fast food.” His tone was light, but his look was warning. “But be careful what you say until you know what their opinion is.” He surveyed the remaining viands, and smiled. “I have to admit, if you make the comparison, this is by far the better meal. And in far better company, I might add,” looking at Amaranth and Shasta as he spoke. Amaranth blushed.

“Shasta, why don’t you take Jeb and Doug out and show them the farm; introduce them to all the livestock. It’ll give me a few minutes to clean up and get the spare bedroom ready.” They’d finished eating.

“Sure, Mom, no problem.”

“Are you sure?” Doug queried. “I don’t want you going to a lot of extra work on our accounts. One of us can stay and help you.” He’d noticed her lack of enthusiasm at their presence earlier.

She shook her head.

“No, really, I’ll be faster on my own, thanks anyway.” She smiled. “He loves an audience,” she whispered. “Go on. Have fun.”

She watched them out the kitchen window until she saw the three of them entering the lighted barn. Then she dashed into her bedroom and picked up the phone.

Some three-quarters of an hour later, they returned, laughing, stamping off the snow and brushing off their clothing. Shasta had gotten his sled and taken them down the hill a few times. Snow was somewhat of a novelty for Jeb; he confided that he’d grown up “in a warm climate” and hadn’t seen much snow before. Doug was quite agile, for an old man, Shasta thought, and told him so.

“Well, I try to keep active,” was his droll reply. Somehow this struck Jeb as hilariously funny, and he laughed himself silly until Shasta creamed him with a snowball. This led to a snowball fight on the way back to the barn, with a good time had by all. Amaranth fixed hot cocoa for them all, and when they were quite warmed up, sent Shasta off to do his homework.

“But Mom, there won’t be any school tomorrow, with all this snow!” he protested.

“All the more reason to do it now, before you forget what it was about,” Amaranth told him firmly.

“Humph,” he growled, but went off.

“He’s quite a handful, isn’t he?” Doug asked quietly.

“Yes,” she sighed. “It isn’t easy…”

“What happened to his father?”

She didn’t answer for a long moment.

“I left him,” she said finally, her voice thick with emotion. “I took my son and ran away. I divorced him later.” She stiffened, as if bracing herself against…something. She shivered slightly as if from a chill.

“I’ve put you in the spare bedroom. There are two twin beds in there, and I turned on the heat.” She led him upstairs to a small room. “It isn’t much, but it’s clean. It was a little musty, so I lit a scented candle. If you don’t care for it, you can put it out.” She opened the door and let him enter.

The room was small, but comfortable, and though the chill was off, it wasn’t very warm yet. A small candle glowed on the mirror-backed dresser at the far end of the room, giving the room a welcoming golden light and the scent of evergreens. A twin bed stood on either side of the room, each freshly made with snowy white linens and covered over with a handmade quilt. The curtains were drawn against the cold, and on the burnished wooden floor between the beds lay a large, thick, handmade oval rug. A small writing desk, reading lamp and chair stood in one corner, and next to it was a small bookcase full of books. The room seemed very welcoming and inviting. Doug inhaled appreciatively.

“It’s beautiful, Amaranth. You are very kind. I don’t recall ever having finer accommodations,” he said to her. “You must let us repay you somehow.”

She looked at him, a mixture of fear and astonishment on her face. Her mouth opened, and closed, though she said nothing. Finally she seemed to regain her composure.

“Don’t worry about it. Anyone else around here would have done the same. Um, the bathroom is down the hall on the right. The light switches are just inside the doors.” She backed away from him, out of the room to the comparative safety of the hallway. He followed her slowly downstairs.

“Such grace,” he thought to himself, “and so much fear.” He shook his head sadly.

They returned to the kitchen, where Jeb was enjoying the last of the cocoa. She busied herself putting away the dishes from the washer. Doug stood in the doorway, leaning on the doorframe, studying her. Suddenly he spoke, startling both Jeb and Amaranth, his voice soft but powerful.

“You don’t strike me as the sort of woman to run away from anyone or anything.” His words hung in the air, vibrant and sharp. “He must have been a very awful person, to make you feel you had to do that.” His voice was like a scalpel; his words lay like an incision between them.

She bent to pick up the pan she’d dropped when he spoke. She put it into the cupboard and turned to face him.

“He was,” she said, her voice steely as the pans she’d just put away. Their eyes locked and held.

“Tell me about him,” said Doug, his eyes still gazing into hers.

“No,” she said, in a flat, hard voice.

Jeb looked at her in utter disbelief. No one had ever refused Doug when he used that tone of voice in all the time Jeb had known him. It was a rather advanced Knight’s trick, and Doug was exceptionally good at it. Time and tension stretched like pulled taffy.

A sudden loud ringing sound pierced the silence, and the moment popped like a burst balloon. Another ring and she was out of the kitchen and into her bedroom, lifting the phone as she shut the door.

Doug hid his face in his hands for a long moment.

“What was that all about?” Jeb queried.

Doug dropped his hands. “I’m not sure. But I am sure of one thing; this is no ordinary place, and that,” he gestured to the closed door of her bedroom, “is no ordinary woman.”

Jeb nodded. “I’ll say. I’ve never seen you fail to get an answer out of someone with that trick before.”

“I have. But only with very strong-minded individuals.”

“Well, she’s sure got you mesmerized. You can’t seem to take your eyes off of her. If I didn’t know you so well I’d say you were in love.”

Doug shook his head.

“I don’t know why, but for some reason I feel like she’s very familiar. I just can’t figure out why.” Sensing another presence, he turned to see Shasta coming toward the kitchen, regarding them curiously.

“Where’s Mom?”

“I believe she went in there,” Doug gestured towards the closed door, “to answer the telephone.”

“Oh.” He proceeded to fetch the remaining chicken and sandwich makings from the refrigerator.

“Want some?” he offered politely. They both demurred. He made a sandwich and replaced the food in the fridge. He looked at Doug for a long moment.

“You’re upset.”

“What makes you say that?” Doug regarded him with interest.

“I can tell.” He took another bite of his sandwich. “Mom’s upset, too.” He looked thoughtful. “You must have been asking her about my old man. That’s about the only thing that gets her upset.”

“Your parents are divorced, aren’t they, Shasta?”

He nodded, chewing on a bite of his sandwich.

“Do you ever see your father?” Doug asked gently.

“Uh-uh!!” Shasta said vehemently, shaking his head hard. “He’s one bad dude!” He looked at Jeb and Doug, suddenly suspicious. “Why? Do you work for him?”

“No, Shasta, no. Please, don’t distress yourself by imagining things.” Doug sensed a fear, almost terror, in the boy, and sought to calm him. “We’re just two travelers passing through here who ran their car off into the ditch and happened to be rescued by your mother. Really, Shasta, think, there are much easier ways to get here than by wrecking one’s car.”

The boy still looked somewhat dubious.

“Please, believe me, we wish neither of you any harm. Though I expect I’ve made a mess of things.”

“Hmm. Hoof in mouth syndrome?” Shasta asked, grinning.

“Something like that, yes.”

“Don’t worry, it’ll be okay. She’s kind of upset tonight anyway.”

“Why is that?” Jeb asked.

“Well, she hates to kill things. She gets kind of upset when we have to kill one of the birds, and now we’ll have to take one of the turkeys. I know she doesn’t want to keep them, but it’s hard for her to kill them, even if it is for us to eat. She always says, ‘Take only what you need, and then there will always be enough.’ It bothers her to take a life. Even a mean one.”

“Which turkey do you think she’ll want to take?” Doug asked.

Shasta made a wry expression. “We really need to do something about Oberon. He’s getting mean, and he tears up the fences. She said the other day she’d have to shoot him, cause she’d never be able to hold him down to chop his head off. He’s one bad bird.”

Doug and Jeb exchanged glances.

“Perhaps we could help,” Doug suggested.

“I’ll ask her.” He knocked on the door. “Hey, Mom, do you wanta do Oberon tomorrow?”

The door opened. Amaranth seemed much calmer when she emerged.

“Well, that would be the best choice,” she said slowly. “If we can control him between the two of us.”

“We can help you. With four of us, it’ll be no trouble.” Doug spoke gently. “Please, let us help,” he urged, as he saw her shake her head slightly. “I understand he’s a big strong bird, and it would in a small measure repay some of the kindness and hospitality you’ve given us.”

“C’mon, Mom, you know he’s right. He’s too big for us to handle, and he’s got to go.” Shasta added his pleas.

Still she hesitated uncertainly.

“Amaranth,” Doug said, his voice soft and gentle as the snow drifting lazily down outside the windows. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I had no right to ask at all, and I’m sorry if I caused you pain. I don’t understand why we have been brought together like this, but it’s not an accident. Let us help you while we are here. When we can get the car and get it repaired, we’ll be on our way. Until then, we’re stranded, not to mention snowbound, and we’d much rather be doing something to help you instead of sitting around doing nothing.” Even as he spoke he sensed a contrary desire in himself, an urge to linger as long as possible in this place with her.

“Won’t someone be looking for you?” Shasta inquired suddenly.

“That’s not very likely,” Doug replied.

“Why not?” Shasta persisted.

“Because they don’t know we’re coming.”

Shasta was plainly puzzled, and Amaranth was beginning to look alarmed.

“Look, it’s nothing like that,” Doug said reassuringly. “We were on our way to a government installation not far from here to make a survey of their security system and effectiveness.” This was their cover story.

“You mean you break into places that are supposed to be secure, and report on them?” Shasta asked.

“Something like that,” Doug said, nodding.

“Oh. Cool!”

“Shasta, have you done your homework?” Amaranth inquired.

“Almost. I got hungry,” he said defensively. At her steely look, he said, “I’m going, I’m going!” as he grabbed the rest of his sandwich and left.

Jeb chuckled. “He’s a live wire. Reminds me of me,” he said.

“Hmm, well, maybe there is hope for him,” Amaranth said tiredly. She sat at the table and rested her face in her hands. Her auburn hair cascaded down over her fingers, hiding her face completely.

Doug sat across from her.

“Amaranth, listen, about the turkey…” he began gently.

“Oh, that awful turkey,” she said tiredly, her face still in her hands. “He’s a pain.”

“Shasta suggested that you might want him butchered tomorrow.” Doug was tentative now, his tone cajoling.

“Yes, he’s got to go, and now would be a good time.” She looked up to face him, and he saw the fine lines of strain in her face. “I just hate killing things. Even mean ones.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. No healer would find it easy.” His deep brown eyes sought hers. “Let us do it for you. We’re not attached to him.”

She was silent for a long moment.

“Yes, I suppose it would be easier.” She sighed. “Not that I’m known for taking the easy way out.” She yawned behind her hand. “Well, Oberon, enjoy the sunrise, you won’t see another.”

“Let me make you some warm milk. It’ll help you sleep,” Doug said gently.

“Oh, don’t bother just for me,” she said tiredly. “I’ve got to see to Shasta’s homework.”

Doug glanced at Jeb meaningfully.

“You know, that warm milk sounds really good to me, too,” Jeb added quickly.

“Me three. That settles it,” said Doug. “You just sit down, I’ll fix it.”

“Fix what?” asked Shasta, stepping in with his homework held in front of him like a shield.

“A mug of warm milk,” Doug replied, taking the carton from the fridge.

“I’ll take some too, please,” said Shasta as he slid the papers onto the table in front of his mother. She looked tiredly at them. Jeb glanced over at the paper. The handwriting was somewhat untidy and hurried looking.

As Amaranth passed them back to Shasta, she said, “You’ve got number four wrong. Go work on it a bit, and see if you can’t tell where you went wrong.”

“But Mom, it’s late…”

“No. Now go.”

Jeb glanced at the carelessly scrawled math again.

“If you’d like, I could help you with that right quick.”

Shasta looked hopefully at his mother.

“Is that okay with you, Mom?”

“Fine. Go.”

“Didn’t get much sleep last night, Mom, did you?” he asked, concern in his voice.

“No, not much.” She forced a tired smile. “Now go learn some math from this fellow while you have the chance.” She waved them on.

“Sleep an elusive thing?” Doug questioned as he stirred the milk in the pan.

“Bad dreams, mostly,” she replied distractedly. “There’s some cookies in that tin there.” He set the container on the table before her. Opening it, she selected one and began to nibble on it. “I get them a lot when we butcher the animals.”

“I shouldn’t wonder,” he muttered under his breath. He was just ladling the milk into mugs when Jeb and Shasta returned.

“Got it understood, now, Shasta?” she asked.

“Yeah, and then some. I think I’m gonna be ahead of the teacher for a week or two.” He grinned. Jeb smiled at him.

“Your son is very bright, Amaranth,” he said simply, slipping into a seat. Her arm went around the boy’s shoulder and she hugged him gently.

“Yes, I know. I’m very proud of him.” Her gaze lingered on his blonde hair and green-brown eyes. He smiled somewhat abashedly.

Doug set a steaming mug of milk before each of them and took his seat. Cookies were passed, and soon the mugs were empty. Shasta went to bed first. Doug gathered the empty mugs and rinsed them, and Amaranth needed little encouragement to head for bed.

“Get me up early in the morning, I’ll show you where the stuff is for the bird.” She was very nearly out on her feet. They watched her walk slowly to the door of her room, Char at her heels.

“She was exhausted, poor thing,” said Jeb. Doug smiled, a little too sweetly. Jeb gave him a piercing glance.

“Why do I get the feeling that was not just ordinary tiredness?”

Doug chuckled very quietly.

“Because it wasn’t.” He reached into his pocket and drew out a small vial of yellow liquid. “It had some help.”

“You gave her some of that? I hope you didn’t overdo it.” Jeb pointed at the vial. “That stuff has been known to kill, you know.”

“It also can soothe. Our hostess here is a healer. She gets nightmares every time they slaughter animals. As is to be expected, wouldn’t you say?” He showed Jeb his arm, where there was little more than a small bruise showing. “It was broken.” Jeb’s eyes widened.

“A pretty powerful healer, if I may say. But do you think it was wise to give her that? I certainly hope she wakes up in the morning!”

“No fears on that account, Jeb. But she will sleep a peaceful, perhaps even dreamless sleep, and by the time she wakes, the deed will be done and it should trouble her much less. The least we can do in repayment for her kindness to us is give her some rest and peace of mind.” He drew in a deep breath and looked around the room. “I just wish there was something more we could do.”

“What exactly is our mission here?” Jeb asked quietly. “You’ve been most uncommunicative about that.”

“It is most unclear to me, Jeb, what our mission is supposed to be. It is possible that this may be part of it.” He looked Jeb straight in the eyes. “Our employers were most vague and nonspecific about this one. I’ve told you everything they’ve told me,” he said simply.

And Jeb looked into his heart, and saw that it was so.

They took their gear upstairs to the bedroom. It was nicely warmed up by then. The candle glow, reflected in the mirror, cast a warm spell of welcome over the room. They put their things against the wall. Doug sat down on one of the beds and took off his shoes.

“I am tired,” he said, groaning softly.

Jeb looked over at him.

“Maybe you should have taken some of that medicine,” he said.

“No, I’m fine.” Doug’s eyes closed, and in moments he was asleep sitting up. Jeb looked at him and shook his head. He gently pushed his head toward the pillow.

“You’re supposed to at least get under the covers, old man,” he said amusedly as he laid Doug’s feet on the bed. He covered him with a blanket from one of their packs. “That’s what you get for staying awake for two whole days.” He took the opposite bed and they slept soundly until morning.

The Queen of Heaven

Chapter 3

Amaranth awoke slowly. She felt more rested than she had in days. It wasn’t exactly that she hadn’t dreamed, but her dreams had been peaceful. She had a vague memory of twin brown pools, deep and fathomless, gazing at her with kind concern. No, not brown pools, brown eyes! She remembered his look of concern last night as they’d talked about the turkey. She stared at the clock; it was after eleven.

“Oh, heavens, I’ve overslept!” she remarked to Char, who was asleep on the foot of her bed. He opened one sleepy eye, then put his paw over his face. She left him sleeping on the foot of her bed. Hastily she rose and dressed. She needed to get that blasted turkey taken care of.

The smell of good things cooking greeted her as soon as she stepped into the kitchen. In a pot on the stove, something was simmering. It proved to be the giblets, nicely seasoned and approaching tenderness. Footsteps on the back porch alerted her, and she turned to watch Doug enter after beating the snow off his clothes.

“Ah! You’re awake!” He sounded relieved. “We butchered the bird already. Shasta showed us where everything was. He said you wouldn’t want to put him on until later, so he’s hanging from a tall tree. He may freeze if we don’t bring him in soon.” He shivered slightly. “I may freeze if I don’t get brought in soon,” he remarked ruefully. “Shasta and Jeb are out on the far side of the pens, mending the fence. They sent me in for some more pliers.” She handed him the pliers.

“Tell them to come in. I’ll make us some cocoa. It’s too cold to mend fence.”

“Oh, we’re almost done,” Doug assured her brightly. “Did you sleep well?” At her nod, he persisted, “No bad dreams?” She shook her head. His deep brown eyes lingered on her face; she looked more rested than yesterday, less strained.

“Well, that’s good, then,” he said softly. He turned to go, and she touched his sleeve. He turned back to face her.

“Th-thank you, Doug, for doing the turkey. I-I’m grateful to you.”

From her hesitation, it sounded to Doug as if she had not had the occasion to say “Thank you” to someone for a long time. At least, not to a stranger.

He reached one hand up to touch her shoulder, noting the way she flinched away slightly from the contact.

“It was no trouble, Amaranth. We were glad to help out. And you needed the rest. I looked in on you a couple of times, but you seemed to be sleeping peacefully, so I thought it best to leave you be.”

In truth, he’d begun to worry that he might have dosed her too heavily after all, but she had roused sufficiently to know he was there, and he had left her sleeping.

He returned shortly with the others. She had made cocoa, and they sat and drank and laughed as they warmed up.

“Did you guys have any breakfast?” she asked finally.

“We had toast, Mom, before we went out to fix the fence,” Shasta volunteered.

“Toast!”

“We didn’t want to disturb you,” Jeb said gently. “But now that you mention it, some breakfast would be awfully nice.”

Amaranth considered that for a moment.

“Well, thanks.” She looked at Shasta. “Did you get the eggs this morning?” she asked.

“Got the eggs, fed everything, watered everything, checked the news, school was canceled. Yes!” He grinned at her. “And the fence is almost all fixed.”

“Wonderful! Of course, I understand you had some help,” she included Jeb and Doug with a glance. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“It was our pleasure,” Doug responded with a smile.

“After breakfast, you must come and see what we got done, Mom,” Shasta enthused.

“I will,” she agreed, smiling.

They had done an excellent job on the fence, she had to admit. They’d replaced one side of one pen that had been in the worst shape, using the roll of fence from the barn, and patched a couple of the other bad places. Jeb and Shasta were having snowball practice, pelting trees and each other with equal vigor. Doug and Amaranth were inspecting the fence. Suddenly Shasta yelled out,

“Hey, Mom, heads up!”

Amaranth looked up to see a large snowball whizzing toward her face. There was no time to duck; she closed her eyes tightly against the impact.

It never came. There was the sound of a sudden movement, and the slushy thud of a snowball being caught inches from her face. When she opened her eyes, Doug was standing there, the snowball in his outstretched hand, a thunderous look on his face.

“Shasta.” Doug’s voice, not loud but intense, dropped like a stone; if anything, it was colder than the chilly air. “Come here.”

Slowly the boy complied, stopping just an arm’s length away. Doug’s deep brown eyes bored into his mercilessly.

“Don’t ever aim your missiles at noncombatants,” he said finally, in a soft voice. Shasta hung his head. “I believe this is yours.” He held out what was left of the snowball to the boy. “Next time, be more careful.”

Shasta took the snowball and mumbled, “Sorry, Mom.” Soon he and Jeb were at it again, but this time they took more care to aim away from the other two.

Amaranth glanced at Doug, who was watching the others.

“Thanks,” she said quietly.

He regarded her intently. “You’re welcome. I’m just sorry it happened.”

“He’s having fun,” she said. “He gets caught up in the moment.”

“Nevertheless, I don’t think it would have happened if we hadn’t been here.” Doug met her gaze. “I feel responsible.”

She smiled then. “He wouldn’t be having nearly this much fun, though, if you weren’t here. It’s lonely for him here when we’re snowbound. And I daresay your, er,” she hesitated a moment, searching for the specific word he’d used, “associate, is having the time of his life.” She pointed to where Shasta and Jeb were busily engaged in building a snowman. They’d rolled three gigantic balls of snow and were in the process of maneuvering them into position. They finally heaved them into place and placed sticks and stones for decorations. At last they were ready to go inside.

Oberon was enormous; he barely fit into the oven. Amaranth briefly considered cutting him in half and putting half in the freezer, but decided against it. Better to get him over and done with. Doug had helped her lift him into the oven, and she was glad for the assistance. Char was curled up on the floor in front of the oven like a sleeping watchdog, occasionally stretching and licking his chops. Now it was a matter of basting and cooking overnight. She finished basting the bird and looked up to see Jeb watching her.

“What are you doing?” he asked her.

She thought it a somewhat peculiar question. “Haven’t you ever seen a turkey cooked before?” she asked.

“No,” he answered simply. “It seems to be an awful lot of work.”

“It is,” she admitted, brushing her hair back from her face, “but it’s worth it.” She regarded her empty tea mug with disappointment.

“Shall I put the kettle on?” Jeb asked politely. “I do know how to do that,” he added with a smile.

She nodded, taking a seat at the table opposite him.

“What do you usually do when you’re snowbound?” he asked as he filled the kettle at the sink. “When you don’t have unexpected guests, I mean.”

“Oh, sometimes watch the TV. Though it doesn’t have very good reception. Or read. Listen to the radio. Play in the snow. Make snow ice cream. I have my work to keep me busy. It’s kind of hard on Shasta sometimes, though. He gets lonely.”

“I can imagine.” He looked thoughtful. “Do you have any books on raising poultry that I could read?” He saw a wary, faintly shuttered look come over her face. “I find it interesting. I promise I’ll return it,” he said earnestly.

The look passed. “Oh, yes, of course,” she stammered. “I’ve got some upstairs in my study.” She put the teapot on to brew, and led him upstairs. They stopped outside the door next to the spare bedroom. “It’s kind of cluttered in here, but I’ve got a few books on poultry.” She opened the door and led him into a small room, smaller than their bedroom, and lined all about with bookshelves, filing cabinets, boxes of books, and books. A desk on one side held a computer and printer, and there were files, stacks of papers, and stacks of books on every available surface.

Jeb grinned. “I feel like I’ve just come home.”

Amaranth stared at him in amazement. “I really need to get some of this picked up,” she said shortly. “I stopped for the holiday, and I just dropped everything.” She picked up three or four files and put the stack into a file drawer.

“The poultry books are on those two shelves.” She pointed out two shelves about four feet long, both nearly full of books. Books a couple of inches thick were mingled with every description of book and pamphlet. “General farming is below that, cooking on the next set of shelves.” She eyed him speculatively. “Is that enough to keep you busy?”

He glanced around the room, taking in the other shelves, scanning titles and authors’ names rapidly.

“I’m quite impressed with your library, Amaranth.” He turned back to the shelf and selected a book quickly. She handed him a piece of paper. He looked at her, puzzled.

“Stick it in the shelf where you took the book out. That way they get back where they belong,” she said. “So I can find them again.”

Back in the kitchen, she poured the tea. Jeb sat down and immediately began to read.

“Where are Doug and Shasta?” she asked suddenly.

Jeb looked up, startled. His silvery gray eyes considered her carefully. She seemed alarmed.

“I believe they went to finish fixing the fence,” he said after a moment. “I’m sure they’re all right. Would you like me to go check on them?”

“N-no, that’s okay.” She sipped her tea thoughtfully.

Shasta stared at his forearm, where blood was welling up in a long, deep cut. It didn’t hurt yet; he was just stunned. Doug hurried over to him.

“What happened?” he asked urgently.

Shasta pointed at the fence with his other hand. The piece of old fencing he’d been holding taut had torn, and one of the wires had raked his forearm, tearing his shirt, leaving a deep gash several inches long. Doug grimaced.

“That’s bad,” he said softly. He pulled the sleeve back and looked closely at it.

“Mom can fix it,” Shasta said softly.

“I can fix it, and it’s my fault,” Doug said, reaching inside his jacket and withdrawing something small from some inner pocket. It was a device about the size of a transistor battery, but no thicker than a credit card. Doug touched one corner of the device to a small drop of blood on Shasta’s arm; it seemed to suck the drop inside. He placed the device in his palm and moved it along the length of the cut. At first, nothing happened. Then the bleeding ceased completely. He moved it over the cut again, and slowly the cut closed from the inside, until only a bright red line showed on the skin. A third time, and a faint white streak was all that remained. He returned the device to its hiding place.

“I won’t tell if you won’t tell,” he said evenly. He gazed probingly into the boy’s eyes.

Shasta nodded silently. Doug’s gaze held his for a few more moments; then he nodded as if satisfied.

“That’s good, then. Now, lets get this piece of fence mended.” He seized the torn edges of the stiff fence and wrenched them together as if they were elastic. His strong hands twisted them together as easily as if they were string or putty. When he stepped back, the wires held tightly, twined about each other. He looked decidedly dissatisfied. “What this really needs is some new wire,” he muttered, “but it will have to do.” He turned to Shasta. “Are you all right?”

Shasta glanced at his arm, shrugged his shoulders, and said, “Yeah, I guess.” He looked at Doug warily. “What was that thing?”

“Cutting edge technology. I have a friend in the research department; he gives me gadgets to test from time to time.” Doug’s tone was offhand. “Sometimes they work, sometimes they don’t. This one seems to work pretty well.”

Modrayan technology in medical research had progressed to the point where they were practically unrivaled in the universe. He shrugged.

“Time to go in,” he said lightly, picking up the tools and heading for the house. Shasta followed him thoughtfully.

“Well, it’s fixed as best I can do for now.” Doug handed the tools to Shasta to put away. “It really needs some new fence all around.”

He glanced at Amaranth, who had suddenly become extremely interested in something at the bottom of her tea mug. Shasta dropped the tools in a drawer. He brought a mug from the cupboard and filled it from the teapot.

“How’d you do that?” Amaranth asked Shasta, indicating his torn sleeve.

“The fence caught it. D’you think you can mend it?” he asked.

She looked at it carefully. “I suppose so. You’re lucky it didn’t get you. Go change.”

Doug took his mug of hot tea and sat down on the same side of the table with her. She unobtrusively edged away from him slightly. Presently she got up to baste the turkey. Char hopped up into his lap and settled in for a good pet. Doug stroked him, watching the fluffy fur tangle with static electricity.

“What’s that you’re reading, Jeb?”

Jeb held the book up so he could see the cover. “Elements of Modern Poultry Management” gleamed brightly on the front.

“Amaranth lent it to me. Maybe if you’re good she’ll lend you one, too,” he joked.

Doug grimaced. “Looks too much like a technical manual to me. I’d prefer something a little lighter, thank you.”

“Would you like a volume of the encyclopedia?” Amaranth asked him teasingly. She was basting the turkey.

“Good heavens, no!” he retorted. “I’m not that much of a wet blanket, am I?”

“Nah,” she said lightly. “Just joshing.” She closed the oven door. “Come on, I’ll show you our library.”

In addition to the books on poultry and farming, and the cookbooks, she had a number of shelves devoted to fiction of every description. He studied the shelves carefully, as much for the things it revealed about her as for the titles. Most of the shelves contained an assortment of authors, with a notable exception; there were three shelves that contained nothing but titles written by “C. Wyndham” and “A. Bryar”. Eventually he selected a sci-fi novel.

“You have the most eclectic collection of books I’ve ever seen,” he said, seating himself at the table after helping himself to another mug of steaming tea. Amaranth was busy at the sink. She spared him a quick glance.

“It’s a family affliction,” she said shortly. “Shasta’s room is about to fall in from the weight of the books in there. He reads anything, just about.” She looked around as he came into the room. “And speak of the Devil,” she said lightly. “What are you up to?”

“I was listening to the weather on the radio.” He helped himself to a mug of tea, liberally lacing it with milk. “Looks like more snow for Thanksgiving.” He gave her an appraising glance. “If I get the snow, will you stir up some snow ice cream, Mom? Please?”

“I suppose so,” she said. “But get something warm on before you go out to get the snow.”

“Can I come too?” Jeb asked, closing the book. “I think I’m beginning to like snow,” he added. He followed Shasta out.

Doug shook his head. “Snow ice cream?”

He was watching her closely. He still hadn’t shaken that initial feeling of intense familiarity. He felt almost as if he’d known her all his life.

“Another family affliction,” Amaranth replied, breaking eggs into a large bowl. She glanced up at the clock. “Time for birdie.”

“Can I help?” Doug offered.

Amaranth bit her lip indecisively. “Do you know how to baste a bird?”

“Well, I’ve seen you do it. And my teachers always said I was a quick learner,” he said ingenuously.

“All right,” she agreed reluctantly. “Use the stuff in the pan there.” She glanced around from time to time; he was doing a good job. She added ingredients to the bowl and began to beat the mixture.

“How long do you have to do this?” he asked.

“Every hour on the hour, all night long,” she answered.

“I can see why you weren’t too keen on cooking him without a good reason.” He closed the oven. “You’ll never get any sleep, at this rate.”

“Oh, I’ll be all right.” She sounded tired.

When Jeb and Shasta returned, Doug signaled Jeb with a glance, and they left the room together quietly. Several minutes later, they returned. Amaranth was filling four bowls with a slushy concoction. She placed a small amount in a saucer and set it on the floor. Doug smiled.

“For Char?” he asked.

She nodded. “I know I shouldn’t,” she said by way of explanation, “but he likes it so much he’ll practically claw a leg off of someone if I don’t give him his own dish.”

No sooner had she set it down than Char appeared on the scene and began to lick greedily, purring loudly as he lapped up the creamy mixture. She set their bowls on the table. Jeb tasted his hesitantly.

“Oh, this is good!” he exclaimed. “Ive never had anything like this before!”

Shasta looked at him contemptuously. “You must be from outer space,” he declared sarcastically. Jeb froze, his spoon poised just above his bowl.

“But of course we are, Shasta,” said Doug easily. “I’m from the fourth planet around the middle star in Orion’s belt, and Jeb here is from a minor planet in the Cappella system.” He looked calmly into Shasta’s eyes. “We were left off near here by a spaceship, and we’re trying to reach a colony of our people several hundred miles west of here.” Jeb’s face bore a look of unmistakable horror.

“Yeah, right. I’m not that dumb,” Shasta snapped sarcastically.

“Shasta, that’s not very nice,” his mother interjected.

Doug regarded him thoughtfully.

“You haven’t met too many people that are very different from you, have you?” he asked gently. The boy shook his head. “So you assume that everyone who seems quite unusual is from outer space?” The boy nodded sheepishly. Doug smiled at him. “Well, be careful. Someday you just may be right.”

Jeb gave a very quiet sigh of relief.

It was after dinner that evening that the argument started. Doug was helping Amaranth clear the table and put the dishes in the dishwasher. It was time to baste the bird.

“Let me do it, Amaranth,’ Doug suggested. “You look tired. Why don’t you sit down and supervise?”

So she did. Not that he needed supervision; he acted as if he was very familiar with the process. She said so.

“Oh, I’ve learned a few things in my time. In our line of work, we often find ourselves camping and fending for ourselves. It attracts less attention that way. There are many foods that benefit from a bit of attention while they’re cooking.” He closed the oven. “I just happen to like my food nicely prepared. When I can take the time.” He smiled at her as he took a seat across from her at the table. “Listen, I have an idea.” She looked up at him. “Why don’t you let us baste the turkey tonight, and you get some sleep?”

“Why?” she asked abruptly. She was looking at him very suspiciously.

Doug regarded her carefully. “You look tired already,” he said gently. “Staying up all night isn’t going to help you.”

“I’m fine!” she snapped irritably.

He looked at her calmly.

“I didn’t say you weren’t. I just think that we’re making an awful lot of work for you, and we should share some of it.” His gentle tone seemed to annoy her somehow. “We could each take a four-hour watch, and you could get some rest.” A mutinous look crossed her face.

“I said I’m fine!” she snapped irritably. “I can handle it.”

“I don’t doubt that for a moment,” he said softly. “But you already have enough to handle, without us making more work for you. The least we can do is take some of that burden off of your shoulders for a few days.”

She shook her head silently, her eyes wide; evidently he’d hit a nerve. He sighed.

“Well, the offer is always open, if you want to change your mind. Think about it, will you?” He reached across the table and grasped one of her hands in his; it felt small and cold. He smiled at her startled expression. “After all, us space aliens have to make our way somehow,” he said, a wry smile on his face.

She found him a quarter of an hour later, in the living room. He had a very complicated-looking set of tools laid out beside him, and he had the back off the TV. For a tall man, he was certainly agile, she thought, seeing him wound around behind the set as gracefully as an anaconda. He looked up as she came near.

“Don’t touch the case,” he warned, “it might shock you.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to tune in to space TV,” he said jokingly. “ET needs to phone home.” A few moments later, he remarked, “I think I know what the problem is.” He extracted himself from the set. “I think I can fix it. Do you have an old transistor radio around somewhere, one that doesn’t work, perhaps?”

“I can ask Shasta when he and Jeb get in from doing the chores. The one we used for the chickens this spring finally quit, and I think he might have it in the basement. He likes to take things like that apart.”

“Why does that not surprise me?” he chuckled.

Shasta’s basement workbench soon gave forth a supply of broken gadgets, which yielded to Doug’s toolkit readily enough. From within one, he extracted a couple of small parts that he installed in the TV with Jeb’s assistance. He replaced the case and turned the unit on. After a moment, a sharp, clear picture appeared on the screen. Amaranth gasped. “It’s never had reception that good!”

Doug grinned. He adjusted the color, and then looked at the tuning knobs.

“Let’s see, now. Hmm.” He turned the knobs. A picture of a definitely alien being snapped into view. “See, what did I tell you? Space TV!”

Jeb and Shasta stared at him in disbelief. Amaranth was staring at the picture. There was something very familiar about it. Then the strains of a familiar tune issued from the set, and she laughed.

“It’s “Space TV”, all right. It’s “Star Trek”!”

“Darn!” Doug said with mock exasperation. “I thought I could get us a transport home!” They all laughed at that.

When she went to baste the turkey again, he followed her into the kitchen.

“You were looking for me earlier,” he said calmly.

“Yes, I was.” She brushed her hair back from her face. “I’m sorry I was so, um, obstinate earlier. I was thinking only of myself. I didn’t stop to see it from your side.” She stepped to face him squarely, and took a deep breath. “If your offer is still open, I’d like to take you up on it,” she said carefully.

He reached one hand out and placed it gently on her shoulder. She flinched, but not as much as before, he noted.

“Of course it is.” He looked into her eyes, the mixture of brown and green in her irises reminding him of a brown and green planet spinning in space, and felt himself longing to take her in his arms. His hand shifted, and he touched her temple gently. She met his eyes, and felt her mind fall endlessly into the deep coffee-brown pools.

“Trust me, Amaranth.” He spoke softly, yet his words trembled with power. “No one should bear such fear. Let it flow away. You will come to no harm from me.” He watched her, sensing the barriers in her mind, felt them begin to crack slightly. “Trust me,” he said again, a bit more powerfully. He felt the barriers begin to crumble a trifle then. His hand shifted back to her shoulder. He smiled, and the contact broke.

“Of course it is,” he said softly.

She let out her breath; she hadn’t noticed she’d been holding it. Tension drained out of her. She hadn’t realized how much she’d been dreading staying up tonight. He glanced at the clock.

“How does a mug of warm milk all around sound?”

“Sounds fine to me,” she said.

He turned toward the living room where Shasta and Jeb were watching a late program. “Hey, kids! How about a mug of warm milk!”

“Sounds great!” they both replied at once.

“Five minutes, then. Be here or do without.”

She pulled out a pan, and he shooed her to the table.

“Sit down, now, and let me do it. I think I can handle it.” So she sat down and left him to it. He seemed very pleased with himself.

Shasta had already gone to bed when Amaranth bid them goodnight, and with Char at her heels departed for her bedroom. Jeb and Doug watched her.

“Pleasant dreams,” Doug whispered under his breath. Jeb gave him a sharp look.

“You didn’t,” he said accusingly under his breath, after her door had closed.

Doug smiled enigmatically, but made no reply. He rinsed the mugs and left them in the sink.

“Do you want to take the first watch or the second?”

Jeb stared hard at him. “Don’t you think you’re getting a little free with the medicines?” he asked finally.

“And your meaning is?” Doug regarded him calmly.

“I seem to remember some oath about not interfering in other people’s lives and cultures,” he said tautly.

“Yes, I remember that oath,” said Doug evenly. “And I also remember an oath about dealing with others with mercy and compassion.” He dried his hands on the towel. “I looked into her mind last night,” he said, noting the other’s look of disapproval. “Yes, I know. But it couldn’t be helped. I was concerned that I might have given her too much, after all, and I roused her the most discrete way I could, to check.” A dark look flickered across his features momentarily. He sighed. “What I saw there nearly gave me nightmares. I am quite amazed that she brought us into her home, let alone permitted us to stay the night. It was an act of tremendous fortitude on her part.”

Jeb was clearly startled.

“Oh,” he said quietly.

Doug regarded him soberly. “There are oaths, and there are ethics, my young friend,” he said gently, “and sometimes one overrides the other.” He glanced at the clock. “Why don’t you go and get some sleep? I’ll wake you when it’s your turn to watch the birdie,” he said with a grin.

He had finished basting the turkey the third time when he heard Char’s insistent meow from behind her bedroom door. Opening the door silently, he whispered softly,

“Want out, fellow?”

Char regarded him with wide eyes, then walked over and sat down beside the bed. Amaranth stirred restlessly, a distressed look on her face.

“Come on, Char, come on out and let her rest.” But the cat did not move. Instead, he meowed insistently.

“What, you want me to come and get you?” Doug said softly. “Come on before you wake her up.”

Char meowed insistently again. Doug sighed and walked over to pick him up. As he bent down to get the cat, he automatically reached over to draw the covers back up over her bare arm. His hand slid down her arm in a gentle caress; every inch of her arm felt uncannily familiar and very warm. Suddenly he froze; she was quite hot to his touch. The softest of touches on her forehead, and he realized she was running a high fever.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked, looking at Char. The cat rubbed against his ankle, purring loudly. “Smart cat,” he said approvingly, stroking him lightly.

He sat down gently on the edge of the bed, regarding her thoughtfully in the faint light coming from the kitchen. From some pocket deep inside his shirt he withdrew an object not unlike a ballpoint pen in size and shape.

“Let’s see what’s happening with you, my dear,” he said gently. “You shouldn’t be this warm.” The device began to beep softly, and a dim light issued from one end. He pointed the light at his hand, and after several seconds, it emitted a series of melodious sounds and flashes of light. A row of markings appeared on one side. He studied them briefly. "Right,” he said. “Now, let’s see how it works on other people.”

The dream was always the same. She was trapped somewhere, in a dark building, she thought, and the smell of smoke came to her, distantly at first, then more distinctly. She was shivering with cold, freezing almost, but she could not move. Trembling, she turned, this way, that way, but her body would not obey her mind. Then the darkness began to give way to an orange light, and warmth came with it. But it was too much warmth, it was the light and heat of an inferno; it increased until she felt as if her skin would burst into flames. She lashed out violently against whatever thing held her, whatever monster tormented her.

But instead of exploding into an agony of flames, as always, suddenly the heat began to recede. Cool water flowed gently around her, dousing the flames and cooling her burning skin. The stench of burning things faded away. Her heart, which had been pounding very rapidly, began to ease back to its normal rhythm. The snapping, crackling sounds of a raging fire in her ears faded away to reveal only the sounds of steady breathing.

“I think she’s coming out of it,” a man’s voice said quietly from across the room.

A cool hand lightly touched her forehead.

“Yes, that’s much better,” someone close by said softly. Char meowed quietly.

Slowly, her eyes opened, and the room swam into focus. Two dark brown pools resolved into a pair of eyes. Doug looked at her gravely.

“How do you feel?” he asked gently. She felt his hands on her wrists, gentle yet hinting of restraint. After a long, probing look, he gently released her arms.

“Weak,” she said slowly.

“I shouldn’t wonder,” he said shortly. “How long have you had this illness?”

“Years,” she said simply.

He looked over his shoulder, and for the first time Amaranth was aware that Jeb, too, was in the room, standing to one side. “Why don’t you bring a bowl of that broth and we’ll try and get some into her.”

“Certainly,” Jeb answered. He turned and left.

“I’m fine, really,” she protested weakly.

“No, you’re not,” Doug said quietly. “You’ve had an extreme fever and halfway to convulsions. You need some energy. You’re weak as a kitten.” He helped her sit up.

He was right, she realized, as she shakily spooned up the broth from the bowl he held steady in front of her. She always was weak after one of those dreams. She told him so.

“Not at all surprising. You were overheated. It’s hard on anyone.” He set the empty bowl aside. “Feel better?”

“Much,” she said simply. “Thanks.”

“Good.” He felt her forehead again, his hand cool against it. “Now, lie back and get some rest.”

“Oh, goodness, what time is it?”

Without glancing at the clock behind him, he said, “It’s one thirty-seven. Now, stop worrying, Amaranth. The turkey is in good hands. Try to get some rest.” He clasped her hand gently. “I’ll leave the door open a crack, so if you need anything, just holler.” He left the room, leaving the door slightly ajar.

She glanced at the clock. It was indeed one thirty-seven. She wondered briefly how he’d known. Then her eyes closed and she fell into a dreamless sleep. She scarcely stirred half an hour later when Doug looked in on her. He felt her forehead lightly and tucked her arm under the covers. Char looked up at him from the end of the bed and mewed softly.

“Good boy,” he said, scratching Char between the ears. “Keep up the good work.”

Char purred loudly.