Because of their mutual suspicion, Luke has difficulty communicating with those he believes are the Daughters of Time. His new hosts make certain requests that cause him some heart-searching.

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This story is copyright (c) 2009 Penny Lane. All rights reserved. The original characters and plot of this story are the property of the author. No infringement of pre-existing copyright is intended.

*****

It was the birds that aroused Luke from his sleep. This was not unusual, since there had been occasions during his circuit around Europe when he had camped out, and other occasions when he had been forced to sleep rough. It was a while, though, in that state of semi-sleep before waking, before Luke finally remembered that he wasn't camping, and the events of the previous day came back with a rush. He opened his eyes.

He was in a kind of tent, though. This one had patched coloured canvas walls, supported by substantial-looking timbers that also supported a framed roof. The roof was made of a rectangle of transport-standard tarpaulin, the faded lettering of the truck company that once owned it still visible in the early morning light.

He was lying, or more accurately almost sitting, on a low bed or pallet inside this small, square "room". There were brightly coloured carpets completely covering the floor, and a small dresser and a chair off to one side. He was propped up in his bed by a huge pile of cushions, all with intricately embroidered covers, although a thick linen sheet had been put between them and him presumably to protect them from any leakage of his blood. At the foot of the bed, a small girl of about eight years sat cross-legged on the floor, dozing.

"Hello?"

The girl roused at the sight of his voice, gave him a startled glance, and hurriedly rose and vanished through the canvas flap at the far end of the tent. Very shortly, he began to hear voices from outside, accompanied by childish giggles. There was a faint smell of smoke in the air, together with other smells that promised food.

Luke began to take stock of his own condition while he waited for someone to appear. He was naked apart from his underpants under the provided blankets, but didn't feel particularly cold despite this. A linen bandage had been wound expertly around his lower chest, but the stain that showed through it was green, not red. He puzzled over that, and then puzzled even more over the similar bandage around his lower left arm. I don't remember injuring my arm. How did I do that? When did I do that? His head felt clear, but he was both hungry and thirsty.

A short while later, the flap was pulled open and three people came into the tent. The first was a man of about thirty to thirty-five, who was dressed in the standard eastern European uniform of tracksuit top and trousers. Unlike every man in the Balkans Luke had encountered so far, he was not carrying an AK but a small, modern machine pistol. Although the man did not actually aim it at Luke, it was clear that he would use it on him if the circumstances made it necessary.

Following the man into the tent were two women, one about the same age as the man, the other about Luke's age. Both were dressed in what could be described as traditional peasant costumes. The younger woman carried a large bowl which steamed. Luke began to salivate the moment he smelled it's contents, but she put the bowl on the dresser and stood back. It was apparent that the older woman was in charge.

She smiled and spoke, but of course there was no possibility of Luke understanding her. She frowned, and switched to another language, then something that might have been poor Serbo-Croat, then another language.

"Sorry, I don't understand. No comprendez." Luke shook his head and waved his hands in what he hoped conveyed that he didn't understand a word. Frustrated, the woman shrugged her shoulders and approached him. With a gesture, he allowed her to pull back the blankets and check his bandages. Apparently satisfied, she said something to the younger woman, who picked up the bowl and brought it to him, kneeling down beside the low bed. There was a spoon in the bowl, and Luke reached for it. The younger woman said something that he took to mean, "careful, it's hot," and he carefully picked up the spoon and brought it towards his mouth.

Stew? For breakfast? Whatever, Luke's hunger overrode his momentary doubt and he put the spoon in his mouth. Shortly thereafter, he was feeding the stew into himself as fast as he could blow each spoonful cool enough to put into his mouth. He had almost finished the bowl before he could rein his appetite in. He put the spoon back into the bowl and gravely thanked both the young and the old woman.

The older woman picked up Luke's watch from the dresser, tapped the face and held up a finger, then pantomimed undoing the bandages, which Luke took to mean would happen in an hour's time. He nodded and leaned back on the pillows, full, and quite warm from the heat of the stew. The two women let themselves out, followed by their guardian. Luke closed his eyes and dozed off.

When the women reappeared, the younger was carrying a basket containing bandages plus some other small items. She helped Luke to sit up properly so that they could unwind his chest bandage, her touch cool and light, but self assured. He discovered that the green stain had been caused by two small damp cloth bags which had been placed over his wounds, probably containing some kind of herbal poultice. When the bandage was removed he took the opportunity to inspect his wound, the front one at least, and he was interested to see that it no longer bled but just looked like a small hole with puckered edges. The poultice bags were replaced with fresh ones and clean bandages applied.

Then the older woman unwrapped his left arm and Luke was surprised by what was revealed. A cross had been cut in the underside of his arm, each diagonal being about two inches long. Despite the fact that this must have been done recently, there was no bleeding. Luke wondered. Had he been deliberately marked? What for? What would happen when his body healed this wound up in short order? A fresh bandage was applied, but no poultice was placed under it.

During all this, the two women had kept up a running conversation, and Luke had joined in with his own remarks. It was a shame that they were mutually incomprehensible. He had to try and find some way of communicating with them, because there was danger of misunderstanding if they didn't, not to mention other, more violent kinds of danger. Once they had finished ministering to him, he made a fresh attempt.

"I speak English. English. Inglisi. No? Habla Espanol? Parlez-vous Francais? Parliamo Italiano? Sprechen Sie Deutsch?" This last provoked a visible reaction from his guard, who looked as though he wanted to spit, but didn't want to soil the rich carpets. Okay, stay away from German. Luke could speak hardly any words of the languages he had named, but had tried them as an act of desperation. He looked at the older woman, and saw that she understood the difficulty. Luke dug deep, and tried a few words of his schoolboy Latin, followed by a few words of his even sketchier Greek, with a total lack of useful response. He threw up his hands in total frustration.

The younger woman laid her hand on his arm, as if to show sympathy. She spoke some sentences to him, then smiled and rose. The two women gathered up their things and left the tent, leaving the guard standing at the foot of the bed. Luke eyed him dubiously, but the man ignored him. Shortly, the older woman returned with another man somewhat older than herself. He came to the bed and began to try some other languages.

Luke could recognise none of them. Most of the languages sounded as if they came from the easternmost parts of Europe, they might have been Romanian, Bulgarian, Ukrainian, anything. One sounded as if it might have been Turkish. He had met some Turks when he and his companions at the time passed through Berlin, and learned to recognise the sound of the language, if not many of the words.

"English. I speak English." How was it that English was spoken in practically every corner of the planet, but no-one spoke it here? The man gave up, spoke a few words to the woman and left. Another older man arrived shortly to take his place.

"I... have... Inglesi... much... time," this one said. "Nyet. I have Inglesi since much years." Bingo!

"You spoke English a long time ago," guessed Luke. The man puzzled over the words, then nodded.

"Da. I meet... British... when... war," he got out. "Partisan. Chetnika." He pointed to himself. "Stefan."

Luke considered what he had said, trying to untangle the meaning. It was obvious that this man hadn't used any English he had learned for a long time. Partisan? War? Wow, this chap fought in a war over sixty years ago, and didn't look more than about forty. Looks like his hunch had been right, although there was still reason to be cautious. He realised that "Stefan" was the man's name.

"Stefan," he said, pointing to the man.

"Da," was the reply. Oh, well, you couldn't expect to get everything right.

"Luke," he said, pointing to himself.

"Look," the man said.

"Nyet," Luke said automatically. If it works, why complain? He thought about how the name 'Luke' would sound in these parts. He pointed to himself again.

"Luka."

"Ah, Luka," Stefan said. "Da. Pleased to meet you." Luke had briefly skimmed World War Two in history lessons, and remembered that the British had supplied the partisans in what was then Yugoslavia. Stefan had obviously remembered a stock phrase one or more of his contacts had used when meeting him. Stefan turned to the woman and spoke. There was a brief conversation, and Stefan spoke to Luke again.

"You be in..." he waved his arm around his head to indicate the tent, "till cloths go." He pointed to Luke's bandages. Luke understood. He was to remain in the tent until his wounds had healed enough for his bandages to come off. It looked as though he was a sort of captive, a well-looked after one maybe, but still a captive. Luke didn't mind, since this place was exactly where he needed to be while his wounds healed. He nodded to Stefan.

"Da. Okay."

He leaned back onto the pile of pillows while the two talked again. Finally, they nodded to him and then all three left the tent. After a while he rested his head and closed his eyes while he thought through the morning's events.

His wounds were obviously mending, that was clear, even though he was still pretty weak. Was it only yesterday he'd been shot? His chest felt a lot better, but he suspected that he wouldn't be able to breathe as deeply as normal for a number of days to come. Experimentally trying to take a deep breath, he got a very sharp twinge from the bottom of his right chest, and relaxed hurriedly. Okay, judging by his experiences with previous cuts and so on at school, he would be bandaged for probably six to ten days. That meant that he would be stuck in here for at least that time. After the last few months of stimulated continental travel, six to ten days shut in would get boring very quickly.

What of the cut on his arm? Did they do some kind of blood test? He couldn't figure that one out. He gave up speculating, and just lay with his eyes closed listening to the sounds of the camp outside the canvas. At least, he assumed it was a camp. Birds, children, men, women, someone chopping wood in the distance. Might be a farm. A small village?

The sounds of women's voices brought him to again. The younger woman held a wooden platter which she held out to him. Adjusting his position, he accepted it, and saw that it held bread, cheese, sliced meat and an apple. The older woman held a wine bottle and a metal goblet. She poured some wine into the goblet and carefully placed it on the carpet where he could reach it, putting the bottle on the dresser. His guard watched impassively from the foot of the bed as usual.

"What's your name?" he asked the younger of the two. She stared at him, baffled. He pointed to himself, said "Luka," then pointed to her.

She darted a glance at the older woman, then placed a finger on her chest and said, "Atiya." The older woman gave her a disapproving look.

"Atiya," Luke repeated, then pointed to the older woman. She looked offended, and gave a dismissive wave of her hand. He pointed to himself, said "Luka," again, and pointed to her.

She glared at him, then said, grudgingly, "Niyaan." The guard stared at her through slitted eyes.

Luke nodded to her and said, "Thank you." There was obviously some danger here, though he couldn't figure out what. He decided that his best course of action would be to eat, and turned his attention to the platter.

He tried to guess what the dark meat was from and gave up. It wasn't pork, or any kind of bird. Probably. Not mutton, beef or venison, either. Given the area he was in, it might be wild boar, or goat, or possibly even horse. Thinking about it, he had to consider bear, moose or even wolf as well. Whatever it was, it had been expertly seasoned and cooked, and tasted excellent. The cheese was acceptable, the bread had only been made that morning, and the wine was at least drinkable. His spirits rose. This was just the sort of food that would help him to get better. He thanked his hosts and returned the platter to Atiya.

Now, other demands of his body made themselves known. To the alarm of all three of his hosts, he began to get out of the bed and stand up. The guard pointed his gun at him, but Luke waved his arms in what he hoped indicated he wasn't threatening anybody. Getting up was tiring, but he had to make himself do it. Once upright, he pantomimed himself pulling his underwear down and then squatting. The two women got the point immediately, and Niyaan issued instructions to Atiya and the guard. The women left the tent, and returned after a couple of minutes carrying a box on short chair legs, which they manhandled inside and placed by the side of the bed. Atiya left again and returned bearing a toilet roll made from really coarse paper. She handed this to Luke and the three filed out to give him some privacy.

It was a commode, Luke found when he lifted the lid on the box. He did his business, got back into bed, and pulled the blankets back up before calling out for his hosts. They filed back in and resumed their former positions. Atiya removed the bucket concealed in the commode and took it away, returning with a jug of water, a basin for Luke to wash his hands in, and a block of rough soap. Once finished, they filed out again and left Luke to his own devices. He relaxed in the bed and promptly fell asleep.

From experience, his wounds often itched as they healed, and it was the itching that awakened him. He was alone, it must have been mid-afternoon, and it was relatively quiet outside. After a few moments to come to, he began to wonder what he might do to relieve his boredom. His eyes fell on his pack, to the side of his bed. He sat up, and very carefully turned to the side and pulled the pack towards himself. Opening it, he considered the contents that were visible. His mp3 player would work, but the batteries wouldn't last long, and he had no means of knowing if there was ever a likelihood of recharging them. His mobile phone, also, had to remain off. Actually...

He hunted for the phone and couldn't find it. That was fair enough, they obviously didn't want any information to leak out if they could avoid it. Or perhaps it had fallen out during the fight. Whatever, it wasn't in his pack now. His probing fingers found the one book he had bothered to carry round with him, a great thick novel of spies and high intrigue he had bought at some railway station or other. He didn't care about the book, it was just something to distract himself with while waiting for a train or a bus. If he needed to, he would cheerfully have used the pages to wipe his bottom or light a camp fire. For now, it would serve to occupy his mind.

The evening meal consisted of a chicken leg and a corn cob, served with some more bread and wine, brought by Atiya with Niyaan standing protectively over her. He cleaned the platter, and Atiya handed him a cloth to wipe his face and fingers with. There had been a heated discussion when Niyaan noticed the book on his blankets, but he had been allowed to keep it. There was certainly paranoia going on here, but if these people were what he suspected, then it was all extremely justified. His day ended with the sun setting, as did that of his hosts. From faint sounds outside after dark, it appeared that his tent was well guarded, although whether that was to stop him getting out, or others getting in, he was undecided.

*****

The second day followed the pattern of the first, except that breakfast was bread and fruit, accompanied by a hot drink that definitely wasn't tea. After his dressings had been changed, Stefan appeared and attempted to strike up a conversation. Luke was puzzled until he realised that the man wanted to refresh his English, and probably to attempt to bring it up to date. By lunch time, Stefan's rustiness had mostly gone. It seemed he had a good ear for picking up Luke's intonation, and Luke felt guilty that he might be condemning Stefan to his own regional accent.

It occurred to Luke that it would probably make more sense for him to learn some of his hosts' language, but Stefan steadfastly refused.

"Not speak words of Stefan until cloth gone."

"Bandage. Not cloth."

"Da. Bandage. Till bandage gone."

"Okay." If I can't get you to teach me some of your words, and you won't tell me about the people here, what can we talk about? "Tell me about the war, then. What did you do in the war?"

"British come, bring guns. We take guns, hide in rocks. Fascists come. We shoot Fascists, explode trucks. Also explode railways. Fascists chase, we hide in... big hills?"

"Mountains?"

"Da. We hide in mountains. Never find by Fascists. Now. How you get hole in body?"

Ah. So Luke told Stefan, slowly and carefully, what had happened when they were ambushed. He showed him the hole in the back of his pack, and opened it to show the damaged items. That started another conversation about the things Luke had in his pack that Stefan had never seen before, like his mp3 player. They were still talking when Atiya, accompanied by the ever-present Niyaan, brought in the lunch.

After lunch Luke was again left to his own devices. He read his book till he was fed up with it, then spent some time planning what he had to do if various possibilities presented themselves. One thing he was certain of, that he did not want to leave his hosts unless it became a matter of life or death. He was convinced that he had reached those called "the Daughters of Time", but the natural high levels of suspicion and secretiveness that both sides would automatically assume with those not of their own kind made it difficult to make contact.

Dinner was a bowl of stew made with some kind of unidentifiable meat, barley, and several kinds of vegetables Luke didn't recognise. It didn't matter, since he had realised that whatever these people were, they were superb cooks. If he could have licked the bowl clean, he would have. He thanked his hosts again, and then was left on his own again as night fell over the camp.

By the time Atiya and Niyaan came again the following morning to change his dressings, Luke had figured it out. So, when Atiya attempted to wrap his arm again, Luke put his hand in the way and said "Nyet."

Niyaan said some angry words to Luke, but he refused to let his arm be bandaged. Eventually, with the situation getting ugly, he said "Stefan. Get Stefan." The man arrived and Luke tried to explain that he wanted his arm left open, so that the wound could heal properly. Stefan conveyed this to Niyaan, and she assented very reluctantly, obviously unused to not getting her own way.

In truth his arm wound did not need bandages any longer. However deep the cut had been when it was made, all that was left was a thin parting of the top layer of skin, just enough to feel with a fingertip. Luke knew that in about three days, there would only be a fine silvery scar, and that within a week there would be no evidence left at all that a wound had ever occurred on his arm.

The two women withdrew, leaving Stefan and the unnamed guard. Luke wondered if Stefan would answer his questions. He tapped his arm with a finger.

"Stefan. Is this a test?"

Stefan struggled through the question, then said, "Da. Is test."

"Good. Test is necessary to show Luka is proper person to visit People. I understand."

Stefan was silent, and then nodded slowly. "Da. Luka understand, I understand, but we not speak of test till test finished."

"You are reluctant to give any information away to outsiders. I understand that. My people are just the same. How can my people and your people make contact if this is so?"

Stefan was silent a good deal longer this time as he digested Luke's words.

"Da. Stefan agree, but Niyaan elder, make laws. Luka wait two days, then People decide what happen to you. Now, talk of other things."

On the fifth day, the hole in his chest had almost closed up completely, and Luke could almost breathe as easily as before the shooting incident. Atiya wrapped a much simpler bandage around him this time, omitting the poultice bags. By this time, Luke was feeling rather dirty, as apart from the water used to clean his hands after each use of the commode, he had been given no opportunity to wash. He was still wearing the same pair of underpants that he had been wearing since before the shooting, although he did have spare pairs in his pack. He was uncertain what would happen, and had decided to wait to see what the women would decide before changing. Today his fate would be decided.

Mid-morning, Niyaan, Stefan and the ever-present guard entered his tent and stood looking at him. Luke sensed that the critical moment had come, and this was reinforced by the guard's actions. He took a muffler out of his jacket pocket and started screwing it onto the end of his machine pistol. Once completed, he pointed the weapon at Luke, and Luke's blood ran cold. He hadn't felt this scared since when the bandits accosted them.

"Show arm to Niyaan," instructed Stefan.

Luke held out his arm, and Niyaan approached, taking care to stay out of the line of fire. She caught hold of Luke's wrist and ran her thumb over the faint scar lines. By the expression on her face, Luke was unsure whether she was unhappy that he passed the test and that she would have to put up with him, or unhappy that she couldn't have him shot and solve the problem. She shot a staccato question at Stefan.

"She asks, would you bear her children?" Stefan's own expression was carefully guarded.

This is the single question that decides my fate, Luke thought. The question makes no sense if you don't know about the Z-people, and every sense if you do. How the heck do I answer that? If they are who I think they are, I'm okay. If, however, they are against the People, I could be signing my own death warrant. Okay, here goes nothing.

"Tell her, she must bear her own son first. I would be happy to assist her with that."

The first reaction came from the guard as Stefan translated. He grinned, put up his weapon, and immediately began unscrewing the muffler. Niyaan's own expression was a mixture of frustration and relief. She spoke a single sentence and stalked out of the tent, her head held high. The guard said something to Stefan which made both smile before he followed Niyaan, leaving Stefan alone with Luke.

"She say, you are of People, stay with camp till body properly heal." He grinned. "Stefan like idea of Luka giving Niyaan son, make Niyaan man again. Now Luka see camp. Atiya bring clothes for Luka, Luka leave tent. Stefan tell you words of People."

Now the dam had been opened, Luke found it difficult to stop Stefan to get a word in edgeways. There was a huge sense of relief that he had managed to contact the right group. Now, he could relax and enjoy himself for a while until the next sticking point came. They had let him into their circle, were they prepared to let him out again? At some point in the future, he would have to get back to the Moebius Institute.

He realised that Stefan was trying to show him something. He had a faded sepia photograph which showed five uniformed fighters sitting on a wrecked German tank, weapons held high. Stefan dabbed his finger at one of the figures.

"See? Partisan. Is Stefan. Different name, different body that time."

The finger firmly pointed at one of the two women sitting on the tank, proof that Luke had indeed found the Daughters of Time.

Luka took advantage of the delay to finally change his underwear, with Stefan keeping watch at the tent flap. Finally, Atiya appeared with a basket of clothing in her hands, which she put down on the bed. Luke was surprised, since none of it was his. Stefan explained.

"Luka not wear own things. Luka wear things of camp people, hide among camp people if stranger comes."

Of course. If he wore his own gear, he would stand out like a sore thumb. These people were dressed like typical Roma from what he had seen so far, in order to blend in with the various travelling groups wandering around Europe. If someone came across the camp, it was important that nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Luke pulled on a pale collarless shirt, with a plain waistcoat over it. Jeans seemed to be ubiquitous, so that was all right, although the pair he was given had seen better days - and several changes of fashion. There were no socks, and his bare feet went into a pair of decrepit trainers chosen from a selection at the bottom of the basket. A thin scarf was tied round his neck. All the clothing was old but carefully repaired and scrupulously clean. Atiya ran her fingers through his hair and arranged it in the sort of rough mop one developed living in the country. Finally he was ready to be introduced to the camp and Stefan led him through the flap of the tent, followed by Atiya.

The first big surprise he had was that he was high up. It hadn't occurred to him, but his tent was in fact a room built on the back of a horse-drawn wagon. There was a ledge at the rear where they could stand, and wooden steps down to the ground. Facing him, in a clearing in the trees, was a circle of similar dwellings, some on wagons and some on old flat-bed trucks. An open-sided marquee which appeared to be the camp kitchen stood to one side. Luke took in little of the detail, however, because standing facing his dwelling were the entire population of the camp. Men, women and children of all ages, dressed exactly as he would have expected them to be, stood waiting for him to appear. As he did so, Niyaan climbed a couple of the steps so that she could be seen, and spoke to the crowd, who burst into applause.

Stefan translated through the noise. "Niyaan says 'This is Luka, he is of the People, but not of the...' I am sorry, I do not know the word. What would name be for this group you see?"

"Don't know, Stefan. Clan? Tribe? Yeah, perhaps tribe is the best word."

"Da. Luka is of People but not of tribe. Make Luka welcome as one of us."

There was no time for more explanation, as the camp members surged forward to inspect their new guest. He sat gingerly down on the ledge so that his legs dangled over the edge and shook hands with all of the men - and all of the children, who thought this was a great game. The women gave him a thorough going-over, and some of them had speculative looks on their faces as they made way for others. Luke estimated there to be somewhere between forty and fifty people altogether, although there may have been others working nearby. It was difficult to do much, since Luke could not speak a word of the language and Stefan's English was so poor.

As Luke had been stuck in the dwelling for so long he wanted to stretch his legs. Stefan took him on a gentle walk through the woods surrounding the camp until they arrived at the nearby river. They were followed by most of the children, who had decided that Luka was sufficiently interesting to capture their attention. Even when Stefan sternly told them off they still followed at a distance, the older ones laughing and talking, the younger ones staring wide-eyed at the new stranger.

A shout from the camp made all the children go running off, and Stefan told Luke that it was lunch time. By the time they returned to the camp, a series of tables had been laid out together and covered with food and drink. Niyaan sat at one end of the arrangement and Luke sat at the other. Some kind of prayer or grace was muttered by all, and then they fell on the food.

*****

"You want me to do what?"

Luke was speaking in Harse, the People's name for the language they spoke. He had been there for two months, and could hold a reasonable conversation now. He very rarely now had to ask Stefan to tell him a word he did not know. He had integrated well into the life of the camp, and was now fully accepted by all, even Niyaan. He joined in with all the chores, and had proven useful when the time had come to move the camp. His chest wound had finally disappeared as though it had never existed.

A turning point had come when he had been talking with the camp's elders. These were 'elders' in the real sense of the world, since two of them insisted they could remember Napoleon's armies tramping over the countryside. He had discovered that although they had a good idea what happened to them, they had no idea why, and the three slides he had been shown at the Moebius Institute had come unbidden into his mind.

He found blackboard and chalk substitutes and lectured the elders on the wonders of genetics, explaining exactly what happened and why. This convinced them that he really was one of them, and that he really knew what he was talking about, and that there was at least one other organisation of People elsewhere in the world. As Luke knew, the feeling that one was not alone in the world was a powerful one. All of which should have made Stefan's request an obvious one, but Luke had been brought up with different morals...

"I only asked if you would make a baby with Atiya, Luka. The tribe has need of your blood."

Atiya was one of the normal girls who had been born to tribe members. They were usually integrated into the tribe with no problems. Occasionally, one would be married out to another Roma group but most were not. She had kept close to Luke since he had arrived, and he had not exactly resisted. He had made sure not to show any undue interest in her, however, just treating her as a friend who could help him become one of the tribe, at least for now.

She was, however, very pretty, and Luke could feel the attraction. Luke wondered whether giving Atiya a child would bind him to the tribe, since he was determined to go home before his time came in order that the Institute could oversee his transition. If this was the case, it could cause difficulty, since he definitely did not want to end up a permanent member of the tribe. He also understood the problems that any limited gene pool might cause. He needed advice, and fast.

"Stefan, I cannot answer you now. I need to talk to the elders first. There is the question of my own People to consider."

"I do not understand the problem."

"My People have different customs to yours. I need to know what might happen in the future. My future."

"Da. I will ask the elders to meet with you this evening."

After dinner, Luke met the elders in one of the dwellings and explained his problem.

"Before I came to the People, I had promised my father that I would be with him when my change comes," he began. "Will you be willing to let me go when it is necessary?"

One of the ancients spoke, currently a woman who appeared about thirty years old.

"You have shown that you are no danger to our tribe. Although normally we would say no, you are not local and it would be cruel to your people to keep you away."

Niyaan nodded. "You have taught us much since you have been here. We would let you go, but reluctantly."

Luke said, "Would you change your minds if I were to make babies with Atiya, or with any other girl? Would you consider me her husband?"

"Ah," Niyaan said, nodding, "I see what lies at the heart of the matter. No, that is not the way our tribe lives. It cannot, since a husband may become a wife, and a wife a husband, so we cannot have permanent couples like the normals do. No, we understand that you may stay with the tribe for as long as you wish, but then you must leave. We would not deny you that."

"So, assuming that both I and the girl were agreeable, I could make babies, and no-one would object? Would you want me to choose other girls as well?"

"Why would you do that? We did not consider you such a person."

"I'm not. Well, not normally, but this isn't a normal situation. Care for another lecture?"

He explained the problems of a limited genetic pool, and the benefits of fresh material from outside. Although most of the elders had been around a long time, their brains were still sharp and most of them understood the point he was trying to make. The small number of tribes of People that normally circulated around eastern Europe had interbred, of course, but it was still a limited pool. Luke was offering them access to another pool in his own country.

"What of Atiya, and women like her? Do they mind being used in this way?" he asked at the end.

"They would consider it an honour," Niyaan replied. "Especially since you are of the People, and so any son you may give her will be of the People also. Unlike ourselves, who can only bear one son at a time, she can bear many if fate decrees it. Bearing one of the People is a great honour for women like Atiya, since it also means that she could not be given to another tribe in marriage, but remain part of ours."

"I see." So N-women were integrated into the tribe, and apparently understood that their lives would be different to those of the People, and accepted that. "What of the normal men? Are they treated the same way?"

"It is difficult," replied Niyaan. "The normal men of the tribe are only allowed to choose partners from among the People. Of course, if his partner should have a boy, then the partnership is ended, and he is free to choose another. If some do not like this, or want to go for other reasons, they may marry into another tribe, even a tribe of normals. We know that any who leave will not betray us. Many stay, and are our strength and our shield. They know that they are born of the People, and that the People must be protected."

"Very well," Luke concluded the session. "I will try and do as you ask. The customs of my tribe are different to yours, and I might find it difficult, so you must not assume that I will be successful. I will try anyway."

A boy given carte blanche to bed as many young women as he wishes? Every boy's dream, surely? But we all know that theory is very different to practice. Let's hope I can make this work. But something inside of Luke foresaw the likely consequences of his decision, and it took the shine from his task.

*****

"I've never done this before."

"Neither have I. Does that concern you, Luka?"

"Only that I might fail. Or that I might hurt you."

"A woman knows that there is pain in her life, whether it is her first time with a man, or when it is the command of the moon, or when she brings her baby into the world. We know all these things, as you will know them when you become one of us for a time. Do not worry about me, I will survive, as every woman survives."

"I know. But it doesn't make me feel any better. And I wish, I just wish that I could be normal, and give myself to you as normal people do, and be your husband for always."

"You know that cannot be, Luka, much though I would also like that. Your destiny is something completely different. Enjoy your time as a man, and remember it when you are a woman. Then, when you are a man again, you will be a better lover than any normal man could ever be. Now, it is time for the talking to end."

They lay together in one of the wheeled dwellings. It was almost dark, and a single candle provided just sufficient light, set in such a way that it wouldn't throw shadows from the movements of the occupants onto the canvas walls. The same could not be said of the inevitable noise. There was a single cry, in a high-pitched female voice, and the other occupants of the camp who had carefully made sure that they could hear everything, while outwardly appearing to ignore the activity in the dwelling, each gave a hidden smile as nature took its course.

In the morning, the tribe gathered silently around the dwelling to await the appearance of Luke and Atiya. When they did appear, they were greeted by all kindly and calmly, as everyone knew that an important ritual had been performed. Luke had gone in a boy and emerged a man, and Atiya glowed with her new status as a woman of the tribe.

*****

"But I don't understand, Luka. Why not?"

"I think it's because of the way I've been brought up, which is as a normal. Because I've always known there was something different about me, that could be passed on to any children, also makes me very reluctant to lay with a woman. I know you don't understand, because the way of life of the tribe is so different to mine. I want to be with you, and only you, while I stay at the camp."

Luke rested his hand on the slight bulge on Atiya's stomach. It seemed that he would not have any problem with fertility, although Luke and Atiya had made sure by making as many attempts as they could manage, in the approved fashion. Luke was entirely besotted by his companion, and therein lay the problem.

"But, Luka, you are young, and strong, and many of the women admire you. Why should you not give them your gift? Do you need help? I will join you if you think it would help."

Luke went red and stammered something incoherent. Again, the fantasy of having sex with more than one woman looked different by the cold light of day. He muttered something about loving Atiya, and about matters of honour.

"Bah," she said. "Perhaps this new blood of yours is not worth having. I shall ask the elders for a potion to remove this child. I would not want a son of mine to grow up behaving in such a manner."

"No! Don't do that, Atiya, please." Luke had realised that the women held the power in the tribe. "It's nothing to do with my seed, it's just the different way we were brought up. Perhaps I ought to handle this in a different manner. Understand, you will always be my first love -"

"Of course. How could it be any different? Did we not lie together?"

"We did, and I will remember you always, and wish that I did not have to go. But if I have to lay with any of the other women, I want to make sure that you do not think I am insulting you."

"Why ever would I do that? It is for the good of the tribe."

And therein lies the fundamental difference between us. I am going to have to treat this whole episode as an attempt to improve bloodstock. I just hope I can handle the emotional side. I can't be cold-blooded about this, it's not the way I function. I'm not about to rape anyone.

"I will do as you ask, Atiya, for the good of the tribe, though it causes me distress. I would welcome your help."

In the end he did not need to worry, since four of the younger adult girls simply plied him with wine and then led him by the arms into one of the dwellings. He did not rape them, it is true, but who was to say that the reverse did not occur? This activity was repeated over a number of nights, with breaks to allow all parties to recover, and at the end of two months two were pregnant. By this time, too, the constant attention had completely overwhelmed Luke's natural reluctance. He had spent a year at the camp.

*****

Despite the apparent rustic nature of the camp, the tribe was relatively up to date with technology. One of the dwellings boasted a satellite TV, and the whole tribe watched on rare occasions with the side of the tent pulled up to allow them to see and hear. The men-folk kept the machinery of the camp and it's vehicles in first-class condition - despite apparent external appearances - and there were also small machine-tools hidden in one of the wagons if anything needed more extensive work done. There were several generators, and Luke had found that he could get his gadgets charged. So, after making sure his phone was fully charged, with Stefan driving and his AK in his hand, they borrowed one of the Jeeps and set off for a larger village where it was possible a phone signal might be received.

"Dad? It's me. Your son, remember?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. I'm sorry I haven't called before, I had an injury and I've been in an area with no phone signal."

"Well, postal services around these parts are a bit rudimentary, you know? I didn't want to trust anything to the mail, especially as it would have to pass through two or three hands before it even got to a post box."

"No, I'm perfectly okay now, it all healed up well. I'll have to give you the full details when I get home again."

"I'm not sure where I am, actually. Somewhere in what used to be Yugoslavia, I think. Might have crossed a border or several somewhere along the way, so I wouldn't swear to that."

"I sound funny? Well, I had to learn the local lingo in order to be able to do anything. Haven't spoken English to anyone for nearly a year." Not quite true. Stefan is getting quite fluent now. "And before you ask, it isn't Serbo-Croat, I don't know what the outside world calls this local dialect."

"Yeah, I've made lots of friends. I'll be quite sad to leave, but I think I've been away long enough." Which is sort of code for, I know I can't leave it too much longer in case I start the transition early. "I'll be leaving at the end of next week, and I'll make my way down to Athens as quickly as possible and then fly home. It's possible I might bring company."

"You've done what? Why? Oh. That's a big disappointment, I liked that house, it was where I grew up. Tell you what, I'll call when I get to Athens and you can give me the new address."

"Yes, and you. I'll try and call if there are any changes in my plans, ha ha! Phone masts are few and far between round these parts. People keep stealing them for the metal."

"Yeah, I'll do that. Bye, Dad."

*****

"It's time to go, Atiya. I wish I didn't have to."

"I know, beloved. I wish so, too, but your time will come soon and you must be with your people."

"I wonder if I'll ever see our child."

"It is possible. You have been taught the recognition words and signals, you know that you will always be welcome back here in the future."

"I wonder. Technology is moving on all the time. I may be able to contact you from where I am. Maybe Stefan and I can work out something when I get home. I think it would be a good idea if the tribes, including mine, can get closer into contact. There is much we can learn from one another."

"It is good that you agreed to take Stefan. The blood will flow both ways, and only good can come from that. Take care, my beloved, and I hope that you will be as beautiful a woman as you are handsome as a man."

Luke wrapped himself carefully around his pregnant partner and hugged her close for one last time, tears streaming down his face. Finally, he broke contact and climbed into the Jeep with Stefan and a driver, to be taken to a rural railway station some distance away. He looked back until the trees hid the camp. Now, he understood the pain that his father had described. For Luke, it was not because his transition had begun, but the transition was the cause. Atiya would never see Luke again, nor would his unborn child ever see it's father. The person who Luke would become might return one day to find Atiya and their child, but their relationship would be an entirely different one.

"Is it always like this, Stefan?"

"Always. Even amongst the People. We have been given a gift, but the gift comes with a price that many find very hard to bear."

The Jeep roared into the trees, and into Luke's future.