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When they reached the theater building, it seemed dark and quiet at first, until Edie found the side door and slipped through. Then she realized the theater itself had just been muffled and darkened as though it were a real performance; there were people on the stage rehearsing, with light and sound in full force. “We are spirits of a different sort,” Oberon was declaiming. It made Edie shiver.

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When they reached the theater building, it seemed dark and quiet at first, until Edie found the side door and slipped through. Then she realized the theater itself had just been muffled and darkened as though it were a real performance; there were people on the stage rehearsing, with light and sound in full force. “We are spirits of a different sort,” Oberon was declaiming. It made Edie shiver.

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Nicholas was waiting for a fresh drink when he spotted a familiar figure practically stomping through the casino below. A thin smile touched his lips as he charted the figure’s path while watching from his balcony. The figure was male, and he was a few days later than Nicholas had expected, though he was certainly moving with haste now that he was here. Nicholas briefly entertained the idea of letting security deal with the clearly irate man, then thought better of it.

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Sarah Eklemoore would have been a respected journalist, had she been born in an era when they still existed. Unfortunately she was spawned during the dawn of the internet days, and by the time she’d grown-up and passed through college the media had dissolved into little more than a constant, inane chatter of idiocy. Still, she pursued her career anyway, doggedly believing that with enough hard work she could restore a shred of credibility to her once prestigious field. Sadly her editors had little inclination for further Sarah’s dreams, nor tolerating her high-minded ideals.

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Several days passed with no sign from the King, until a messenger arrived. The Temple was to expect a visitor the next day. Would it be some emisssary, or King Temmin himself? That morning, a nervous young Mother came to fetch Gwynna down to the emptied Worship Hall: the visitor stood just outside the doors.

A sharp pang stabbed at Gwynna; life had beaten most of whatever vanity she'd possessed out of her, but she had been beautiful eighteen years ago. Work had roughened her hands, for no one could afford to be idle in the Mother's House. She wore the simple undyed wool habit of a lay Mother, a blue linen veil over her head; it had been long since she'd dressed in fine clothes. She didn't have a mirror to see how she'd aged, and wondered how she would appear in her visitor's eyes. There was nothing to be done for it. She walked to the Worship Hall and stood as she had when Ardunn was a baby, at the feet of the Mother's great statue.

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Several days passed with no sign from the King, until a messenger arrived. The Temple was to expect a visitor the next day. Would it be some emisssary, or King Temmin himself? That morning, a nervous young Mother came to fetch Gwynna down to the emptied Worship Hall: the visitor stood just outside the doors.

A sharp pang stabbed at Gwynna; life had beaten most of whatever vanity she'd possessed out of her, but she had been beautiful eighteen years ago. Work had roughened her hands, for no one could afford to be idle in the Mother's House. She wore the simple undyed wool habit of a lay Mother, a blue linen veil over her head; it had been long since she'd dressed in fine clothes. She didn't have a mirror to see how she'd aged, and wondered how she would appear in her visitor's eyes. There was nothing to be done for it. She walked to the Worship Hall and stood as she had when Ardunn was a baby, at the feet of the Mother's great statue.

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“So who would know where Leila is?” Edie asked, trying to conceal her rising panic. “Does she have any friends among the court faeries? I’m sure she’s never mentioned any…”

Ever shook her head. “Not that I’ve ever seen. As far as I know, she doesn’t have any friends at all. She’s kind of like me.” She grinned. “She likes playing with the humans more than spending time with the faeries.”

Edie felt as though she’d been struck in the stomach. She took a half-step back. “Her human friends—the other theater lesbians. I hadn’t even thought of them. Maybe they’ve seen her.”

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Winter turned to spring and still Gwynna and the baby could not leave the Temple. Soldiers kept watch day and night in sun, rain and snow. The Brothers also kept watch to prevent the soldiers from entering, but they were protecting the sanctity of the Mother's Temple, not Ardunn; they would kill the baby themselves if Gwynna and Ardunn left their holy shelter.

Some days King Temmin stood among them--she could not call the man who'd spoken with her at the feet of the Mother that day "Tennoc." Sometimes he called to her, and sometimes she heard him. Sometimes he even sounded like Tennoc. The day came when the Mothers told her the new King had finally left Gwyrfal to turn his attention to conquering the rest of Kellen. Cror ar Crymavon was left behind with instructions to continue the watch.

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Celao wrung his hands together, looking around nervously. Edie took a half-step closer to him. She didn’t particularly want to be close to him—even under a human glamour he seemed slimy—but he looked like he was trying to escape, and she wanted him to know that wasn’t going to happen. “Don’t take me back there,” he said.

“Oh, is that what you want now?” said Ever. She didn’t really sound like she was asking a question. “You just grabbed my ankle so I would take you away with me, right?”

He grinned brightly. “Yes! That’s exactly it!”

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The hospital used a disinfectant that lightly stung the nostrils of all who smelled it for too long. Nine years later they would switch to a different one after discovering that two of the interacting chemicals could do long term damage to the sinuses of those who were exposed for long periods of time. The young man sitting in the waiting room could have told them that just from a quick sniff, saving them countless headaches, both literal and metaphorical, along with a couple of lawsuits.

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Owen sat one of the waiting room’s many reinforced chairs and flipped through an old Capes & Cowls magazine. It detailed the rise of one of the latest crops of heroes, fresh off their internships and making quite a splash in the world. Their costumes were crisp, their dialogue concise, their images squeaky clean. These were the kind of Heroes the world needed more of, or at least that’s the idea the reported lauded. These were the kind of wholesome, homespun, moral warriors that would take the lead in creating a new world, free of immorality.

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Owen sat one of the waiting room’s many reinforced chairs and flipped through an old Capes & Cowls magazine. It detailed the rise of one of the latest crops of heroes, fresh off their internships and making quite a splash in the world. Their costumes were crisp, their dialogue concise, their images squeaky clean. These were the kind of Heroes the world needed more of, or at least that’s the idea the reported lauded. These were the kind of wholesome, homespun, moral warriors that would take the lead in creating a new world, free of immorality.

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Harsin sat at breakfast the next day, alone but for his eldest daughter. Ansella's robin's egg blue morning room, cheerful even in the weak winter sun, served as consolation and goad to them both; they sat silent, picking at their eggs and coffee. The butler appeared, arms full of newsprint, but set the stack before the King alone. "Affton, where are my morning papers?" asked Sedra.

"There'll be no more of that," growled her father. "I'm done with you ruining your mind. All this reading will stunt your ability to bear children."

"Papa, you know that isn't true! Many educated women--"

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Edie swallowed. “Um, we haven’t actually seen Leila. I thought you might have. She said she would help you out if she could.” What was going on here? Ever obviously thought that nothing was unusual with Leila, so why couldn’t they find her?

“Really?” Ever blinked in surprise. “I never heard anything about that.” She looked around nervously. The bushes beside her seemed to be shaking a little bit. “Let’s get out of here to talk, though. Leila’s tree should be fine.” She started moving, walking quickly away from the bushes.

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My sister Calla had lived with the death of our parents for more than a decade. She lost her adoptive parents, the Wileys, a year before meeting Diggory Franklin in 2008. I had been sent back in time by the Continuity Integrity Agency to make sure that Calla built a time machine that Diggory would use before his death in 2009.

The only problem was, the Wileys' death provided the funds that paid for Calla's doctoral studies. Those courses led to the time machine. So, to make sure the machine was built, I had to make sure the Wileys' died.

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"Shut those doors!" said Harsin from the hallway outside Twenna's apartments. "I never want to hear her voice again! Hallik! Where is Shelstone?"

"Sir Elbig is on his way, sir," answered the butler.

"I don't know any 'Sir Elbig,'" said the King.

A whiff of Elbig Shelstone's jasmine-tinged cologne hurried into the hall before he did. "Your Majesty! Felicitations on the birth of your new son, my grandson!" he beamed. "Why are you standing in the hallway? Hallik, take him in to see the little thing! He's perfect in every way, sir, resembles his father--"

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Edie hoped it wouldn’t be too much of an adventure. But then, she didn’t really know what she was hoping for. She wanted to find Leila, but what possible conclusion could there be? Either something had happened to her or she’d taken the memory blocks off Edie on purpose, and either way, Edie had to get an explanation as to why she’d put them there in the first place. It was possible that someone else had somehow gotten in to her brain to place them, but that wouldn’t be a good ending, either.

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Brent tried not to fidget as the broad shouldered man scanned over the papers before him, turning the page every so often without so much as glancing at the nervous young man across the table.

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Brent tried not to fidget as the broad shouldered man scanned over the papers before him, turning the page every so often without so much as glancing at the nervous young man across the table.

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The knock on Professor Stone’s door was soft but firm. She glanced up from her paperwork to see Professor Baker standing in the doorway. She’d changed out of her teaching garments, effectively a more stylized version of the student’s uniforms, and was instead clad in a modest blouse with cream colored pants. Some professors chose to wear their own clothes all the time, this was their prerogative, but Professor Baker’s class could get a bit messy, so she opted to stick to the uniform when educating and keep her clothing costs minimal.

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