I wake up, bizarrely, to the sound of football being played in the courtyard. It’s mid-morning, I can tell from where the slatted sunlight strikes the bedroom wall. Not too hot for football yet, then.

I get up and wander out onto the balcony overlooking the courtyard. There they are: Sam, Beni and Asuti on one ‘team,’ it seems, and Chirasel, Demele, Garelan and Ateis on the other, although Ateis looks like she’d be better off in goal, as she doesn’t seem to have quite got the idea that you’re not supposed to pick the ball up. I’m not really sure they’re playing teams and not just knocking it about a bit. It’s all pretty easy-going. I can see Jalsone in the shade by the kitchen door with the baby and the two little ones.

“Tani!” Asuti calls up, seeing me. I wave. “Are you going to join in?”

“Not if I can help it!” I call back. She looks crestfallen. I smile. “Just not my thing.”

“Oh come on!”

“Did someone bring that football all the way from the atoll?”

“I did,” Garelan announces.

“Anyway I need the bathroom,” I excuse myself, and start down the stairs. The last thing I ever want to do is play football again. It’s attached to some bad memories, humiliation and cruel laughter.

There’s still some hot water over the stove in the bathroom, enough to wash myself, after which I put on a light dress, grab a leftover (probably for me) breakfast pastry from the kitchen and go and sit with Jalsone. She’s glad to offload the baby onto me, and I’m glad to take her, as it gives me a further excuse not to join in the game.

I like to sit quietly like this and play with the baby, but eventually she decides she wants to snuggle and that’s fine by me too.

“Jalsone,” I ask, “do you know anything about the Neri living in the city?”

“Mm, not much. They live here, same as the rest of us. They seem friendly enough though I can’t say I’ve had cause to actually speak with any of them yet, but they just seem like ordinary people. They don’t go putting on like they’re lords and ladies like the ones off the marketeers used to.”

“We do?”

“Not you, Miss Taniel.”

“I don’t think it’s meant,” I say on behalf of all the Neri I have known on the Satthei’s ship, and fall silent, thinking.

“From what I understand, they mostly come here because they don’t want to live with their Satthei any more. I took you for the same, Miss Taniel. Are you thinking you might stay?”

Precisely. “I’m not sure,” I say aloud. “I do like it here.”

And after a while I murmur, “I’d need to find a living, I guess. The money we brought won’t last forever.” Thinking. “Beni wanted to go back to Denhall, don’t know if that’s still the case. Don’t know what Sam wants to do. As for the others, they’re born marketeers.” I shrug.

“Well, maybe they’re not your responsibility, did you think of that? They’ll make their own choices.”

I sigh. I am thinking of it. But I’m also watching Ateis and Asuti.

Three days later, and the morning of the day we’re invited to Hajarean’s ‘get-together,’ a ship docks in harbour carrying news. It’s an independent marketeer, arriving from Taka’utuk.

Chirasel is the first back to the boarding house with a copy of the printed newssheet. From her flushed face it looks like she ran all the way.

In summary, the newssheet reports that Satthei Fareis’s marketeer fleet did not arrive as scheduled at Taka’utuk. Three days late, a few ships did arrive, including Master Retican’s, Master Gerat’s, and a few of the smaller vessels, all in need of repairs and speaking of a massive assault at sea by the slavers. All the children had been taken, they said. Of the Satthei, no sign. The remnants of the fleet were expected to remain in Taka’utuk for repairs for at least forty to fifty days, which tells something about the damage they sustained.

“We have to go there!” Chirasel insists. She stands there with her hands resting protectively on Garelan’s shoulders. “We have to! There might be more news. I knew we should’ve gone there in the first place!”

And that’s the moment Hajarean’s carriage rolls up to the courtyard door. Early. With him in it.

“I think you should come and stay in my house for a few days,” he says. “All of you. I think it’ll be safer.”

“Safer? Why?” I ask.

“That ship,” he points in the direction of the harbour, even though it’s not directly in view from the courtyard, “usually comes into harbour with its holds full of goods from the Satthei Fareis’s market in Taka’utuk. It’s just had to make a nearly empty run and its Master’s pissed off. So too are going to be the local merchants who depend on that trade. Sooner or later someone’s going to figure out you’re from Fareis’s fleet, especially if they don’t count carefully enough and don’t realise you shouldn’t have been able to get here as fast as you did.” He gives me a firm look. “They’ll want answers, and things might get… intemperate, especially when you don’t have answers, and they don’t believe you. You’ll all be safe in my house.”

“Uh… Sam’s still out with Beni and Deme–”

“We need to go to Taka’utuk!” Chirasel hisses forcefully. “We should’ve done that in the first place and not wasted our time coming here!”

“You wanted to stay at the atoll until the slavers got us!” I snap back. “I’m sorry, Chi. Our first thought was to keep the children safe.”

“No it wasn’t. Your first thought was to follow that stupid bird!”

“What bird?” Hajarean asks. I remember, I didn’t mention the gyre falcon.

“Never mind,” I say quickly. “Chi, listen. Master Retican would not have left the Satthei if…” I give up and sigh. In any case Master Retican’s was the ship on which Chirasel and her son, and Beni and Asuti lived. That ship is their home, even separated from the Satthei. “Um…” I say. I’m confused now.

“Of course you must go,” Hajarean says to Chirasel. “You must get what news you can of your friends and loved ones, of course, but I don’t think it would be wise of you to rush off today. You would need to provision in any case, but furthermore: Master Fenan of the ship that just docked will be dining at my house tonight.” He smiles at Chirasel conspiratorally. “And we do know ships’ Masters do talk amongst themselves. He may have news direct from your Master Retican in more detail than the newsletter and more reliable than quayside rumour.” He looks at us both more seriously, and at Garelan. “Do not forget, it seems there are slavers operating in these seas now, in the heart of Jeodin. Until this threat is dealt with, I would hesitate before taking children of my own on a sea voyage, unprotected in a small sailboat when even the protection of a Satthei becomes uncertain.”

That’s the clincher. Chirasel holds her son closer. “Tani,” she says and makes a movement with her head to come aside and talk.

“Wait a moment,” I say to Hajarean. We step aside.

“Do you trust him?” Chirasel asks me.

“Yes I do.”

“But he’s an islander!”

“So?”

She looks unhappy. “I haven’t been this long off the deck of a ship my whole life,” she says. “It’s hard to know what’s firm.”

“He’s an old friend. I trust him, Chi.”

She bites her lip, uncertain. “I’m not going to let fear of the fucking slavers turn me into an islander. My son isn’t going to grow up an islander,” she says.

“I know. Me neither.”

As far as the smaller children are concerned it’s all very exciting. None of them have ever had a ride in a horse-drawn carriage before. Well, neither have I. Asuti and Garelan have a sense that it’s not just for fun. Garelan’s sitting very quietly with his mother. Asuti’s next to me, looking out of the window, fascinated by the spectacle of the city going past outside from such a strange vantage. But I can tell from the tension in her back and shoulders that she’s worried too.

Ateis has no idea. She’s climbed up to stand on the seat on my other side so she can see out of the back, thrilled by the novelty of it all. Hajarean is on her other side, half turned in his seat so Ateis can point out what she’s seeing to him as we go. I look across at Sam with Beni on the other side of the carriage. Sam gives me a neutral look, I think, and says nothing. It’s funny; for some reason I expected her to object to this a bit more. Find something wrong with it.

The carriage is quite open and airy, with large glassless windows. What look like furled Roman blinds hang above them from the roof inside.

“It’s only for a few days,” I tell Asuti. “Just in case.”

“I know.”

I put my hand on her back. I’m not sure who I’m steadying more.

“D’you think he’ll know if my brother’s still alive?” Asuti asks.

“Master Fenan? I don’t know. We can certainly ask. You mustn’t be disappointed–”

“I know.” She hasn’t turned from looking out of the window for the entire exchange.

“Don’t!” Sam yells at Little Jalese. She and her brother have discovered the statue at one end of the atrium pool “You’ll break something!”

“I wouldn’t worry,” Hajarean says. “This place is pretty kid-hardened by now.”

“It’s amazing,” I say. “The place, I mean.” I’ve hardly brought my gaze down to eye-level since we arrived, this time through the main entrance into the residential area. By any other name, this is a mansion. Water flows, and the leaves of overhanging branches stir in the breeze and dapple the light coming down into the atrium. We’re not inside nor entirely outside, but a place that combines the two.

And there is a woman, rising from where she had been reading on a chaise-longue in the shade and coming to us. She’s middle-aged, but slim and elegant and beautiful, with her dark hair pinned up and her long dress making a slight swish against the cool flagstones. Her feet, I notice briefly, are bare.

“And may I introduce my wife–” Hajarean begins, but Sam steps in.

“Lady Hanima,” Sam says, and bows, takes the lady’s hand and kisses it, the old-fashioned way. Only I’m not sure the gesture has any meaning here in Jeodin. I just stare. It’s the first time I’ve seen a human carry the grace I’ve come to associate only with the Satthei. Perhaps it doesn’t take so much time after all.

“Welcome to my house, friends of Simon,” Hanima replies warmly. It takes a moment before I realise she had spoken in English. Heavily accented with Jeodine, but English.

I can tell Sam’s also noticed it, because she’s frozen, still holding Hanima’s hand. “Your husband taught you to speak English?” she asks.

Hanima nods. “This is the first time I to speak it with another person,” she says. “It’s true,” she continues in Jeodine. “Oh, it’s all true.” She smiles, almost laughs in fact, with suppressed excitement. She’s radiant.

“Hajarean told you about… the other world?” Sam asks. Hanima nods. “Well then, yes, my lady. It is all true,” Sam says, releasing her hand at last. “Unless he lied about stuff,” she can’t resist adding. “Did he tell you he was the supreme ruler of that world? Because if he did, that’s a lie.”

Hanima laughs gracefully. “He tells me it is a place of many wonders and achievements.”

“No more than this is, my lady. Your house would be admired for its beauty and grace, and so would you.”

Hanima smiles. Radiant, again. “I have been warned about you, Samila,” she says, with a little mock-sternness. She softens it with another smile. “And you too, I understand, remember that other place.” she says, turning to me. I’ve been standing slightly aside with Asuti, who’s decided to stay by my side rather than join in with the exploring.

“Yes, my lady.”

“Please, both of you, you are my husband’s friends, therefore you are mine. Please call me Hanima, or just Hani. And who are you, my dear?” she asks Asuti.

“My name’s Asuti, my lady,” Asuti says.

“Well, you’re all very welcome,” she says. “Let us show you the rooms that have been made ready for you, then you can be settled in before lunch.”

“Thank you my l– Hanima,” I say.

It’s hot, so it’s afternoon-rest again. Siesta, it would be called back in the other world. We’re in the suite of rooms they’ve set aside for us, having returned here for rest after lunch with Hajarean and Hanima and the four of their grandchildren currently staying, although the latter were prone to dash off with our little pack into the garden to get acquainted rather than finish their meal.

It’s very well appointed in the Jeodine style, with curved-arched windows, shuttered now against the heat, and rugs and cushions and chaises-longues and proper beds.

“That Hanima is something special,” Sam says sleepily. “I can see why my last character called her princess.”

I chuckle.

“She must have been an astonishing beauty when she was young,” Sam continues. “She’s not half bad now— I mean I’d—”

“Shush, you,” I say. “You know what she did, letting us know she understands English?”

“Oh yes. Fair warning, I guess. God knows who else he’s taught. Guess we can’t use it as a secret language any more.”

“Not the rate those kids are picking it up anyway. I think I heard Ateis call Garelan a ‘bleeding plonker’ yesterday.”

“Oh God, Haji’s right, I am a bad influence. When did I say that?”

“I dunno, probably wasn’t there. You know, if the Satthei’s alive I don’t want to have to explain to her why we’re turning her daughter into a chav.”

“Haha. Burberry elves with Croydon facelifts.”

“Shows off the ears better,” I inform her, deadpan. Inspired (or something), I sit up and scrape my hair back into a ponytail held with my hand to demonstrate. “Am I bovvered? Do I look like I’m bovvered? ‘Cause I’m not—”

I receive a cushion in the face for my efforts. I hug it, chuckling, and lie down again. It’s hot.

“Hey, where are the kids anyway?” Sam asks.

“Common area. I think they’re doing that kittenpile thing.”

“Aww, an’ I’m missing it. You should join in.”

“I’m not that much of a kid. Anyway, Beni and ‘Suti are with them.” Therefore we’ve been left alone for a change. “You think we did the right thing, coming here?” I ask. “You didn’t argue back at Jalsone’s, so—”

“Yes. I think it’s good. We’ll find out more here. Better connections. And he’s probably right about it being safer.”

“We’re getting further from the sea,” I murmur, looking at the ceiling.

“Come on, I want to show you something,” Hajarean offers. “Before everyone else arrives.”

“What?”

“Come on, you’ll see.”

“It’s his collection,” his granddaughter explains, with a roll of her eyes. Her name, we’ve been told already, is Alison; Allie for short. It’s very weird, hearing an English name here. “You’d better go or he’ll sulk all evening.” She’s a pretty, redheaded girl of about twelve who’s already taken Asuti in hand, it seems, showing her around.

So we follow him downstairs, through the wine cellars where he finds and lights a whale-oil lamp, and through a door and into wonderland.

“Surprise surprise there’s a big problem with looting of ancient sites in Jeodin; especially burial sites. You could almost say it’s a tradition. I can’t honestly say I didn’t contribute to the problem.” He grins back at us over the yellow light. We’re in a vault, with shelves and shelves of – judging by those closest to us – archaeological finds. He turns his back to us and leads on. “For about the first fifteen years after I got here I’m afraid I developed a taste for tomb raiding. The difference,” he stresses, “is that we went in carefully and recorded what we saw, where things were. We got a good record of a number of pristine sites that otherwise would have been smashed up by thugs looking for magical items.”

“I bet you found a few of those too,” Sam says.

“Oh yes. That’s what made it such an interesting time.” He flashes another grin at us. “Oh, those were the days. There were a few places we had to leave a little rapidly.”

“I don’t suppose you happened to come across any especially pretty girdles by any chance?” Sam asks insouciantly.

“Ah… hehe. There… must be nearly a thousand pieces of jewellery that might be magical that we haven’t fully identified yet,” Hajarean says. “I’m sorry.”

“Meh, that would be too easy I suppose,” Sam says.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned here, it’s that nothing is ever too easy when it comes to magical artifacts. Personally I find it safest to think of them as toxic waste and handle them accordingly. I’m not at all sorry for taking as many of them as I can out of circulation.” He stops again and looks at us seriously. “I have lost several good friends to such artifacts. I don’t intend to lose more. I’d almost rather give my youngest grandchild a loaded gun. The outcome would be far more predictable and probably less messy in the long run.”

“I get the impression you don’t approve,” I say.

“They’re dangerous and they’re unnecessary. We’re better than that.” He continues through the vault.

I think, as I follow, on how what he’s saying mirrors my own feelings about magic; my discomfort even at a spell that seemed to go well, even before the disaster when it didn’t. I wonder if it’s something about where we came from, how we grew up, that makes magical things – by the scientific, mechanical way of thinking we grew up with – unsettling and unpredictable; enjoyable as a fantasy, not when it gets real and things start behaving in ways that are just not rational.

We come to another door and he unlocks it and leads us through. “Here we are.” Another still room. Fewer shelves, more larger artifacts, dimly seen in the light of the single lamp. Amphorae, shields, long serrated harpoons, primitive, tribal-looking ornate masks, glinting as if alive as the light moves past them. “Hang on, let’s shed a little more light on the situation.”

He starts around the room, lighting more lamps from the one he’s carrying, pushing back the shadows.

“In the movies the lamps would already be lit,” I point out.

“More likely candles,” Sam says.

“Ah, naked flame would be a bad idea in here,” Hajarean answers, still going round the room. I can see more of what’s in here. “There’s a number of dessicated— Ah, you found it,” he says, seeing what I’m looking at.

In the middle of the room there is a basalt statue. It is the figure of a Neri woman, naked and powerful, almost lifesize, but stylised and elongated with an impossibly serene, unknowable face, worn smooth with age. It contrasts with her hair, which is a tangling mass of braids and charms such that for a moment I think it’s a depiction of a medusa. It’s unmistakeably ancient.

“Elves don’t have statues made of themselves, as a rule,” Hajarean is saying from behind the basalt figure as I approach. “I suppose when you’re apt to outlast any statue made of you, its purpose as a statement for posterity is… a little undermined. We think this was made by the first humans – the first Sapi, rather – to settle here in Jeodin. They had lost their homes, whether to… war or natural disaster I don’t know. She led them here, and they followed, in their tiny carved-out boats, across the vast ocean dividing us from the eastern mainlands.” He puts his lamp down on a table and looks at the figure thoughtfully. “There have been waves of immigration since then, of course. These days the descendants of those first early settlers are confined mostly to the southern islands. Still, I sometimes wonder why she did it. Why did she bring them here centuries, possibly millennia before Sapi seafaring abilities would have got them here on their own.”

“Find her and ask her?” Sam suggests.

“She’s a Satthei,” I answer softly. “Her ship-tree couldn’t possibly survive this long. How old is this?” I ask Hajarean.

“About four and a half thousand years, according to the mage I brought in to examine it.” Smile. “It’s possible she has some living children, but how do we find them? We don’t even know her name.” He puts on a pair of silken gloves, then moves aside to one of the shelving units and carefully lifts out something that glints with gold. “This was found in the carcass of a ship-tree we discovered not far from the statue. The rest of the carcass was extremely fragile. It started disintegrating as soon as it was exposed to air. As soon as we realised, all we could do was fill in the dig again as fast as possible, to preserve what’s left in case someone in the future can deal with it more appropriately. We found this though, near where we think the stern would have been.”

It looks like a golden mask.

“It’s either a mask, and the straps have rotted away centuries ago, or it’s the faceplate of a helmet, and the rest of it’s missing. Alternatively it might not have been meant to be worn at all, in life or death. It might be a part of some kind of avatar, I’m not sure. Look familiar?”

He holds it up to face me. It seems to glitter in the lamplight.

“It looks like her.”

“This is Neri handiwork. The styling is much more naturalistic, as you can see, although it’s got these typical sweeping…” He indicates the fin-shaped ear-shields, like exaggeratedly-pointed ears themselves. “Come and look closer,” he invites. I move closer.

I bend a little to look at the mask closely. The surface of the face isn’t smooth metal after all, but hundreds, possibly thousands, of tiny gold fish scales; almost every one seeming individually shaped for its location, as if they might move, and form an expression. The workmanship is so remarkable I don’t notice for almost a minute that there are no eyeholes, only the tiniest of scales over closed eyelids. There are also no holes that I can see for the nose or mouth.

“Death mask?” I ask.

“That’s what I thought at first. Except there’s absolutely no record anywhere of the Neri ever using them. Elves don’t make tombs for posterity either. They prefer to go back to the earth, or the sea, or whatever. Hey, maybe that’s why no-one ever found remains back in the other world.” He grins.

It looks alien. I haven’t seen anything like this since coming here, and there are no echoes from any earlier memories. There’s something primal about it, even with the typically fine Neri attention to detail.

“Put it this way, it’s more than a thousand years older than Tutenkhamun’s mask,” Hajarean points out. “But I don’t think it’s ceremonial. Not purely, anyway. I’m almost convinced it had a functional purpose.”

“Anyone tried it on?” Sam asks.

“No. And I don’t want you to either,” Hajarean says pre-emptively to me. “There seems to be a nasty tradition in magic jewellery of things that don’t come off once you put them on. Ever. It tends to be the more powerful items too, which presumably isn’t coincidental, and if this does do anything it’s probably something quite impressive.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not tempted,” I say. I am fascinated by it though, and bend to look even closer. “What does it do?”

“I have no idea. Don’t… get too close.” I stand up straight sharply. He gives me an apologetic look. “Just in case. I mean, it probably won’t do anything until you deliberately put it on but… let’s not take chances, eh?”

“Okay.”

“This one hasn’t shown signs of self-motility before, but…” He steps back and turns to put it back on its shelf. I watch it as he takes it away, finally forcing myself to look back at the statue. Yes, she has the same expression as the mask, even; and as I look at it again, I can just make out the impression of elongated fin-shapes protecting the ears. “There you go, I guess. The earliest Neri relics I’ve been able to find. What do you think?”

“Uhm…” I say. “I don’t know. Weird, I guess.”

“It’s not jogging any memories? Stuff Taniel might have learned before?”

I shake my head.

“No-one seems to know anything. It’s odd. You’d think the age that elves live, someone would know something about this. It’s like a whole part of their culture has been… I don’t know, wilfully forgotten.”

“It’s so… I mean, you can tell it’s Neri, but they don’t do this whole fish-motif thing any more at all. The scales and fins and stuff. You see it in the old books, but not any more. It’s so passé.”

“Well, maybe it didn’t just go out of fashion,” Hajarean speculates. “Maybe they turned their backs on it for a reason.”

It feels good to be back out in the light. I know it’s a terrible cliché – in both worlds – about elves disliking being underground, but I really was starting to feel claustrophobic. It’s funny, I don’t get that belowdecks on a ship, where there’s far less room.

The afternoon lengthens into evening, and I try to round up Asuti and Ateis to see about getting them dolled up for the evening. Hajarean’s other guests will be arriving soon. And Master Feran from the ship in the harbour. Ateis is easy enough to catch, having worn herself out from running around with the other little ones in the gardens in an apparent contest to see who can make themselves the scruffiest in such a short time.

Asuti has other ideas.

“Alison’s got all these really nice dresses and she said I could have some of the ones she’s grown out of for keeps, and she said there was one she’s got that she really likes that I can wear tonight, and she’ll do my hair too and, and…” She runs off the end in her excitement.

“Oh,” I say. I notice, belatedly, that Asuti is already wearing a pinafore-like dress I’ve never seen before, in a shade of green I would never have put her in. I’m sure it would have much better suited Alison’s red hair.

“It’s all right, isn’t it?” she asks.

“Yes, it’s all right,” I say neutrally. “You’d better get going.” Asuti grins, hugs me impulsively for a moment, then dashes off. “Don’t wear green!” I call after her. I don’t know if she heard me.

“Why shouldn’t she wear green?” Ateis asks, still holding my hand.

“It’s not her colour,” I murmur. Then I shake myself out of it and drop down to Ateis’s level to give her my full attention. “You, it must be said, badly need a bath,” I tell her.

She laughs at that. “Jallie’s much dirtier than I am,” she pronounces, with the air of a gracious loser.

“Yes, Demele’s going to be so thrilled when she finds out. Shall we see if we can get the bathroom first?”

I’ve been trying to get Ateis’s hair clean. Shampoo made from whale oil and ash and a few perfumes that don’t quite hide the smell is not among my favourite things about Jeodin. Apart from anything else it’s too harsh and strips the hair of too much of its natural oils, so you have to use coconut oil on it afterwards; which is nice if you can get it, but I have to confess to a hankering for modern chemicals at times like this.

The more I think about it the more I get angry that Asuti has gone off with Alison to get ready. I’d really been looking forward to helping her with that myself, and seeing her wear the nice evening dress I’d bought for her at the market. Well, I thought it was nice, but I don’t suppose it would compare with the ones Alison has, being the granddaughter of one of the richest men in Jeoda.

Part of me worries about what might happen if Alison Finds Out, in the midst of all this trying-on-of-dresses. Part of me almost wishes there would be a big freak out, to send Asuti running back to me, to me, so I can console her and support her and fight for her.

“Ow!” Ateis protests. I must have been a bit rough.

“Sorry. It’s been a busy day.” And now there’s Hajarean’s soirée or whatever it is at which I feel we’re expected to be pretty and conversational.

“Well, pay attention!” Ateis scolds me blindly, her eyes still squeezed shut against the stinging lather.

“Are you going to be this bossy all night?” I ask.

“Yes.”

I’m actually jealous over a ten year old, I realise. The strength of my feelings about this take me by surprise. I feel like I ought to be the one to look after her, to mentor her maybe, to lead her to these beautiful memories. But it’s clear she doesn’t need me, not for that. Not when there’s a girl closer to her own age with a closet to explore full of lovely clothes and other such accoutrements of a Jeodine islander girlhood, about which I have little idea, I suppose.

“Imprinting, my arse,” I mutter, thankfully in English. The words leave a stray image in my mind that makes me giggle slightly.

“What?”

“Nothing. Time to rinse. Lean forward.”

I pour clean water from the large pitcher, teasing her hair straight enough as I do so to make the shampoo run off. Ateis users her hands to squeeze the water out from her eyes and opens them again. “Your turn!” she says brightly.

That lightens my mood. It’s worth putting up with whale oil and ash shampoo for the sheer entertainment value of having Ateis do the shampooing. I haven’t been crawling through the shrubbery all afternoon, so I don’t really need the job to be done thorougly anyway.

Introductions introductions. I’m already feeling overwhelmed, like I did that first night when the Satthei introduced me to her guests at Denhall. This time we’re in the formal garden. There’s a fountain – I wonder how it’s pumped – and precisely laid-out flowerbeds and a lawn, and a colonnade around the sides away from the house itself, affording a high view over the city. Paper lanterns hang from ornate poles.

I already know I’m going to have bad dreams tonight. I just keep Ateis’s hand in mine and nod and smile and shamelessy divert attention to Ateis whenever I can. She actually enjoys it.

Asuti is presented to the gathering by Alison. She really does look lovely, in a beautiful, glittery white dress with her hair done up in elegant braids and a jewelled headpiece. There’s no way I could have done anything to compete with that, which doesn’t exactly help my mood, but I try to be happy for her. She’s having such a lovely time. She has an almost permanent blush on, which it’s very charming.

I meet Sarelis and her husband; the Neri I’d seen briefly in the inn forecourt next to the street market. I’m not the only one to notice, this time, how much she looks like Ateis, and Fareis for that matter. Eventually I just ask. “Are you… are you related to the Satthei Fareis?”

She drops her eyes for a moment, then looks hard at me. “Yes, I’m her daughter. So what?”

I don’t know how to react. “Did you… How did you feel when you learned about the attack?”

She just shrugs. “Storms will befall.” It’s a generic, ‘shit happens’ kind of thing to say. “Did she ever even mention me?”

I shake my head. “I’m sorry. What happened? Why did you leave?”

“Oh, the usual thing.” She returns her gaze to me. “I fell in love, and that’s not allowed. Everyone’s supposed to adore the Satthei. You know,” she says, and presumptively puts her hand on my breast, through the brocade facing of my bodice. “You understand, don’t you? We were not meant to be sexless drones all our lives. We have as much right to love and happiness as any other human.”

I cover her hand with mine and remove it from my breast as politely as I can. “You believe we are human then?” I ask.

“Can you doubt it?” She smiles. “It took someone like Lord Hajarean to point out what should be so obvious. We’ve been enslaved for so long by these myths. More and more of us are finding out we don’t have to be our mothers’ slaves.”

“And someone’s trying to kill them,” I reply. “Do you think that’s a coincidence? Do you think it’s just the slavers?”

She looks discomfited. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t you miss anyone from the ship?”

I think she does. She only says, “Please excuse me, I need to sit.” Her hand is on her belly.

“Of course. When is your baby due?” That should be a safe subject anyway.

“Any day now. It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Taniel.”

She takes her leave.

“I don’t like her,” Ateis says. I don’t think she really caught on that they are sisters. At least half-sisters. Ateis would have been born years after Sarelis left the ship, under what circumstances I can only guess.

“She’s carrying bad feelings,” I say. I try to imagine what it must have been like, standing up to the Satthei. Fareis awes me enough even when she’s being nice. Sarelis has the same arrogance; a similar hardness below the surface, but lacks the grace of ages to pull it off with lightness; at least to my eyes. Perhaps the encounter wasn’t representative, I think. After all, she’s recently heard that her mother and the house she grew up in might have been destroyed, and she’s determined not to let it bother her, for reasons of her own.

I’m distracted by another new arrival. Two new arrivals. I imagine the first is Master Feran. He has the air of a ship’s master; a natural habit of command. But it’s his companion who takes all my attention. A Reki male. For a moment I thought it was Kerilas, but after that moment I can see it isn’t; it’s only an ethnic similarity, and I’ve seen no other Reki the whole time I’ve been in Jeodin. Tall, beautiful like a Greek god, with long white hair plaited down his back, a silver circlet on his head, and a long white tunic with silver brocade. He moves among the guests almost like a ghost, bending to speak in Lord Hajarean’s ear for a moment after Haji finished greeting the master. Then he moves on, greeting people civilly. I watch him sit with Sarelis and her husband and talk. Invited, his hand rests on her belly for a moment, and he smiles and congratulates her. I watch the two young Neri entranced by his beauty, his grace, and realise I must have the same expression and turn away, pulling Ateis with me. I want to find Sam. Ateis follows me, her head turned as far around as it will go, still watching him.

“Taniel.” His voice, behind me, is beautiful too. I turn and face him. He’s like something half-remembered out of a childhood dream. In months of being here, living among elves, seeing myself as one in the mirror, I have not met anyone who so embodied everything I ever imagined faerie could be.

“Mm-hm?” I ask, gazing at him, and completely embarrassing myself.

He smiles, amused. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to eat you.”

“Oh.” I realise that almost sounds disappointed. The crude image that suddenly throws into my mind breaks the spell and I start giggling.

Damn it, I think I am disappointed though. He laughs too, as if he’s in on the joke. I bloody hope he isn’t.

He drops to one knee to come face to face with Ateis. “You must be Ateis,” he says to her. “You’re Fareis’s youngest, aren’t you?”

Ateis nods. “You’re beautiful,” she says.

He laughs again. “And so are you both,” he says, with a look to me that sets my heart pounding again. Seriously, those eyes are too blue. They’re doing something to me. My body yearns for something, and I’m pretty sure I know what. I just hope I’m not being too obvious about it on the outside. There’s an echo of this sensation in Taniel’s older memories too, like a distant warning.

He puts his hands under Ateis’s arms and lifts her, easily, so she can sit at his hip and be at eye level with the grown-ups. “There, that’s better, isn’t it?” he says.

“Yes.”

He looks to me again. “I should introduce myself, of course. My name is Seronas. Haji tells me you’ve come from that same other realm as he. You must tell me about it. I’m eager to corroborate the incredible stories he’s told me. Is it true that you have sent expeditions of men to the Moon?”

“Well,” I start, having to make my brain somehow available for conversation again, “not me personally. But yes, we have.” I think I wish Hajarean hadn’t told him that much about me.

“And not by the means you have come here, but in a craft of metal propelled by fire?”

“Um, something like that, yes.”

He’s leading me away from the main group into the colonnade around the garden, with Ateis still carried on his other side. She seems engrossed in the view afforded by this new elevation.

“Is it true you have no memory of this world before you came here?”

“You mean do I have the original Taniel’s memories?” I ask. He nods. “Only a few, that come to the surface at random. Moments in time. I remember learning to play the box-harp in my mother’s arms. I don’t… I don’t remember her face. It gets mixed up with my… memories of my other mother.”

“Indeed.”

“I remember when the ship was attacked. I remember… she was burning. Very few other memories. Just vague impressions.”

“It must be very disorienting for you.”

“It gets better as time goes on, and I gain more memories of this place for myself.”

“Do you want to get down now, little one?” he asks Ateis, presumably in response to some small fidget.

“Yes.”

He sets her down on the tiled floor of the colonnade and she runs off ahead of us. “She’s very sweet, isn’t she?” Seronas observes.

“Yes, I’ve become very fond of her.”

“It seems you’ve taken it upon yourself to look after her, since she lost her mother.”

“We don’t know she’s dead,” I say quickly. “Anyway, we share. We all look after the kids. I suppose we’ve become a sort of family.”

“And if Satthei Fareis is destroyed?”

“Haven’t really thought in the long term yet,” I say. “Not until we know for sure.” I stop to look out at the view of the city; the lamps coming on; the sun, lately set, still brightening the sky towards the horizon.

“Have you given thought to you both staying here, in Jeoda?”

“Yes,” I admit. “It’s a lovely city.”

“We are free here,” he says quietly. “Aren’t you afraid of me at all?”

“Why should I be?”

“I am Reki. I’m sure you have heard tales of us before now.”

“I refuse to believe race alone determines if one is good or evil,” I say. “You’ve shown me no cause to fear you. It would be unjust of me to do so, don’t you think?”

“Is this how everyone thinks in that other world?”

“No.”

I pull away from him, only to sit on a stone bench between a pair of columns. I look at him, watching me.

“Ateis is right,” I say. “You are beautiful.”

He smiles, indulgently I think.

“I know you must think me a foolish child,” I say.

“I do not.”

“I don’t… I don’t do this normally—” “Oh God, that’s such a lame cliché,” I add in English.

He laughs gently, and sits on the bench next to me. “Would you do something for me, Taniel?”

“Yes.” The word comes to my lips reflexively. A little late, I ask “What?”

“Close your eyes.”

I obey. It’s just a bit of fun. Maybe he’ll put a spider in my hand or something. “Now what?” I ask.

“Now do not open them until you are told to.”

“Okay.” I giggle, but I don’t open my eyes.

He doesn’t say any more, and as I sit quietly the sounds of the garden seem to grow around me. The nearby birds and insects, the faint wind through the colonnade, the sounds of the party across the lawn, and behind me, the city, coming alive for the evening and beyond even that, the sea; a sound that’s almost not a sound but a huge presence.

And my own breath answering it. Only mine. “Are you still there?” I ask, almost a whisper.

“Yes.” His voice is right where it was before. He hasn’t moved.

“What are you doing?”

“Must one do? May one not simply be?”

“Are your eyes closed too?” I ask.

“No.”

My breath catches. “Are you looking at me?” I ask.

“Yes.”

God, but it feels amazing, knowing he’s there, looking at me. I smile, feeling cheeky.”Then you’re doing something,” I point out.

His answer, when it comes, is a whisper very close to my ear. “And you are very noisy.”

I shut up. I have to stop myself giggling a little though, for winning that little point.

I feel his hand on mine, where mine rests on the wide folds of my dress. Then he takes my hand, and supports it from underneath, and with a little instructive pressure there, as I feel him stand next to me, I rise to my feet.

We walk further along the colonnade in silence, then he leads me down the few steps to the path across the lawn. We’re heading back towards the party.

I giggle slightly.

“What is it?” he asks.

“I’m just imagining,” I say, “that only when no-one can see you can you show your true form. And… If I open my eyes, the spell will be broken.”

He chuckles quietly. “I assure you I am unchanged. This is my only form. But it is true that the spell will be broken when you open your eyes.”

I know that the Jeodine word for ‘spell’ has no figurative sense. But I don’t care. This is so wonderful. I feel so attuned to my body right now. The feel of the bodice enclosing my breasts, of the petticoats around my legs, of the breeze in my hair and of the arousal between my legs. I haven’t felt this before. But I have. Something about it is familiar and comforting. And I know I can open my eyes any time I want to.

I don’t want to. I don’t want this to stop.

I hear Ateis running to catch up with us. I feel her taking my other hand. “Are you all right, littlest one?” I ask.

“I’m hungry.”

“I’m sure food will be served soon,” Seronas says mildly. “Look, the table’s ready.”

Ateis lets go of my hand, and I hear her running off ahead again.

“Where’s she going?” I ask.

“She’s joining the other children near the table.”

I become a little nervous as the sounds of people grow before me, then around me. I release his hand so I can link my arm with his instead, and I feel more secure. We’re back amongst the party. Music is playing. Someone playing on a box-harp, accompanied by hand drums. Seronas stops to exchange a few words with people every now and then, and I stay by his side. Sometimes someone addresses me, and I respond. Small talk. Smile towards the unseen speaker.

When we’re alone again I ask, “No-one’s noticing. Is that your doing?”

“Of course. Shall we dance?”

He’s not really asking, of course, and in moments I am being swept into a dance with the grass under my feet. I can hear soft voices and the swish of my dress. I don’t know this dance… but my feet do. I have to stop trying to remember the occasion I danced this dance before, and just let my body do what it already knows how to do.

“Are we the only ones dancing?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer. His hands are always there, when I need direction, and I dance where he leads me, blind, on the cool grass. It feels like flying.