The story and characters of El-Hazard were created by Hiroki Hayashi and
Ryoe Tsukimura, and brought to North America by Pioneer LDC.  They hold all
copyright to El-Hazard, we hold none.  The following story is fan fiction,
and may not be sold or distributed for profit.  It is a stand-alone story,
but it takes place in the same continuity as the fan fiction series "El
Hazard: Earth".

We are giving this story a PG rating, with warning of graphic depiction of
violence and some moderately suggestive content.

We would like to thank our pre-readers, Charlie Groark, Greg Smith and
Jerry Yen.

Mark Engels   mark_engels@rocketmail.com
Ken Wolfe     kenwolfe@mts.net

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Rough Justice: A Tale of El-Hazard
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"The first casualty when war comes is truth."
        Hiram Warren Johnson

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---
One
---

Need some salt for Four.  Twelve wants some rialdi sauce for their eggs.
That moron at Seven managed to knock a kettle over onto Eight's cakes.
Guess they'll want a fresh stack now.  How in the hell did Six end up with
cold miso soup?  Where did those people at Nine get off to?  If they think
they'll jilt me again they've got another --

The counter bell's pealing brought Nanami out of her reverie.  "Order up!
Cakes and hash!"

Nanami shook off her stray thoughts like rainwater off an oilskin tunic.
She hadn't been a restaurateur very long at all before realizing breakfast
was the ultimate test of a server's mettle.  Breakfast customers want to
eat, to eat fast, and then be on their way.  Many were merchants and
laborers who, very soon, would be hawking their wares in Floristica's vast
marketplace or lugging them across the city.  It was easy to tell one from
the other.  While both castes pounced upon their meals like rabid hyenas,
the merchants were the ones under whose flashy, colorful robes their
corpulence protruded.

Lately she had managed to find a few good servers who were willing to rotate
the early shift.  Last night, however, Keisha's fiancee had stopped in just
after the dinner rush pitching some tale about a nasty flu bug.  Rather than
have Rivvy come in for the second day in a row on short notice, Nanami
decided to work the shift herself.  Getting wind of all the good gossip was
a great consolation prize.

And it's nice to see I've still got the knack, she thought.

Pulling a small jar of rialdi sauce from her apron, she placed it at Twelve
on her way to the counter.  Picking up the plate, she grimaced at the
still-steaming hash.  "Hey, there was a side of -- "

"Capers.  Yes.  Right here."

Nanami smirked as the cook lifted a small bowl of the pickled vegetables
from below the countertop.  "I didn't know you were trained as a mind
reader."

He chuckled.  "I wasn't.  Instinct."

Nanami set down her tray, leaned over the countertop and locked lips with
him, evoking knowing nods from the regulars sitting at the counter.  "What
does your instinct tell you now, smartass?"

He flushed, as he always did when she pulled a stunt like that.  Nanami
giggled as her husband momentarily struggled to keep his composure.  "It,
ah, tells me I needs must go sit in the cooler awhile."

Nanami winked at her husband as she picked up her tray.  "Grab me another
bowl of soup for Six on your way, would you?"

Working with him was probably the best reason of all to work the early
shift.  Of course, none in Roshtaria could match her culinary prowess, but
he could hold his own.  And those wonderful pickled capers he'd shown her
how to make were a big seller!

Four got some salt, Eight's fresh cakes arrived momentarily, Six got a bowl
of soup hot enough to melt lead, and Nine cashed out leaving a hefty tip.
Seven received another full kettle, with a complimentary side of
admonishment -- a house specialty.

Almost as quickly as it had come, the morning rush died away.  Nanami had
barely begun to register such when she heard two familiar voices breaking
the late morning's relative quiet.  She chuckled, mostly to herself.  The
reigning Duke and Duchess of the Floristican Merchant Guild were about to
grace her humble eatery with their magnanimous presence.

"...woman, do you take me for a fool?  I, Asdic, the most savvy merchant in
all Roshtaria, would never permit anyone to repair our precious silver
jewelry without posting a bond!"

With that, His Savviness pushed aside the draperies covering the entrance to
the cafe.  The elderly merchant wearing robes loud enough to be deafening
led his similarly clad wife to their favorite table.  Their argument, as
usual, never slowed once as he helped her take a seat.

"Well, I, Jilyn, recall your last lapse of judgment, you old fool!  Remember
that goldsmith 'friend' of yours who made clean off with my favorite
broach?"

The portly merchant's gray beard shook as he rebuked her.  "Woman, pay me
the respect I am due!  That was different!  If I had known--"

"Lord Asdic, Lady Jilyn -- good morning to you both," Nanami interrupted,
knowing lunchtime would arrive before an opening.  "Always a pleasure to
see you here."

Asdic shifted from his argumentative posture to his wide-eyed greeting with
practiced ease.  "Ah, Lady Nanami!  How lucky we are indeed to be attended
this morning by the Lady Nanami Jinnai -- owner of Floristica's legendary
Shinanome Café, Caterer to the Royal House of Jagdhar--"

"Flatterers *still* pay full price," Nanami deadpanned.

Asdic pretended to pout while Jilyn cheerfully indicated they would take
their usual.  When Nanami returned with a full kettle of citrugrass tea, the
couple hardly noticed as they continued their seemingly endless argument.

"Ah, Lady Nanami, did you hear the latest?"

Nanami sighed.  So much for a clean getaway.

She knew Jilyn was a good person at heart, but like anyone victim to her own
vices.  In her golden years, Jilyn had reached the dubious distinction of
being Roshtaria's most infamous gossip.  Nary a stone's turning in
Floristica escaped Jilyn's network of spies.  Nanami had long suspected her
reach extended far into the depths of the Royal House itself.  Maybe Jilyn
was secretly working for Affairs Minister al-Farsi?

No, of course she wasn't.  She would certainly talk the minister to death.

"I hadn't, Lady Jilyn.  But I'm sure you'll relieve my soul from the burden
of my ignorance."

"Indeed, Lady Nanami.  I hear that the Prince's Mountaineers will mobilize
on the morrow."

"Mobilize?" Nanami gasped.  She recalled how young Prince Justen had taken
honorary command of Roshtaria's elite mountain troops several months ago.
"But just where will they mobilize to?"

"It pleases me to report that my dear wife has no idea," Asdic interjected
before Jilyn could answer.  "Thankfully Roshtaria's military manages to keep
*some* of its secrets from her."

Jilyn silenced her husband with a menacing stare Nanami thought sure would
make even a Demon-God take pause.  Her voice dropped into a conspiratorial
murmur -- that is to say, only half the restaurant could hear her.  "As I
was saying before being rudely interrupted, the Mountaineers will mobilize
on the morrow's meridian.  All of Floristica is excited for them and their
mission."  Nanami grimaced; Jilyn continued nevertheless.  "When morn is
nigh they will parade from the Palace gates to the amphitheater, where
Prince Justen will address his troops and the public.  Then, they shall
march to the canal where the Royal Navy's boats will be waiting to take them
to their final deployment."  She sighed, waving her hand in a dismissive
gesture.  "Where that will be, no one knows for certain."

Nanami sighed.  "I suppose everyone thinks this is the only way."

The aged merchant knew what Nanami wasn't saying.  "Lady Nanami," he
consoled her, "the Mountaineers shall be there merely to ensure the safety
of Roshtarians and Ceruleans alike during the transfer.  Why, one look at a
company of those brutes should make any potential interloper reconsider."

Nanami hmphed.  But in her heart she knew her friends were merely trying to
help.  "Thank you, Asdic.  I only wish I had your confidence in Prince
Justen's discretion," she said, turning toward the kitchen.

Asdic wagged a finger at Nanami as she walked away.  "Our Prince may be
young, haughty, and inexperienced, but take heed! -- he is cut from the
finest stock of both Roshtaria and Geynos.  I believe our confidence in him
will not be misplaced."

I've heard this all before, Nanami thought as she pushed through the kitchen
door.  Many times during the Cerulean Uprisings she had questioned her
allegiances.  There were her friends to think of -- no, they had become her
surrogate family.  She had pledged herself to the Roshtarian crown and its
Alliance, as her friends had.  But ever since he had come into her life,
she found herself looking at the world they shared differently.

Instantly she regretted letting her guard down.  Two arms slid around her
waist, clasping her to their owner's chest.  She relaxed as he pecked the
top of her head where her long reddish-brown hair gathered into a
waist-length braid.  "Stealth -- yet another of your many talents," she
murmured.

He didn't have to look at her to see something bothered her.  Turning her
gently around to face him, he waited for her to tell him about it.

Nanami looked up into his gray eyes.  Her husband stood about a half a head
taller than her, toting a muscular build that hadn't softened much over the
years.  She thought she could lose herself into that kind, gentle face of
his.  The closely cut white hair sprouting out from under his chef's hat
begged the question: could the old wounds Roshtaria carried from the time
the Eye of God blinked last ever be healed?  Sometimes Nanami despaired
those peaceful members of her husband's race would ever gain the acceptance
and trust they deserved.

"Prince Justen's 'peace keepers' move out tomorrow."

He only nodded his assent.  "You needn't worry about where my allegiances
lie, Nanami.  They are to you, to our friends, and to the Crown we all
serve."

"Yes, Shevlin, *I* know that.  I'm worried about those who don't."

He smiled.  "My people living in Roshtaria cannot help but feel grateful to
the Queen's Champion.  In championing our cause as well, Lady Ifurita gives
all my people hope we can live amongst the Roshtarians peaceably."

Nanami smiled, thinking of their friends.  Had it really been twenty-five
years since she had first arrived?

Makoto was as close to her now when Ifurita had first summoned them to El
Hazard.  And for Ifurita, closer to Queen Rune than any of them as Royal
Champion, Nanami's accepting Shevlin and his people was reason enough to
stand with them.  Ifurita had even secured Queen Rune's support for
integrating Tribesmen into Roshtarian society, though the issue divided the
nation to this very day.

A buzzer sounded from the other side of the kitchen, ending their moment.
Nanami pushed herself away from Shevlin, straightening her apron.  She
smiled as she removed the hot plates from the oven; the familiar sounds of
merchant and his wife arguing could be heard throughout the restaurant.
"Guess I'd better go break it up," she said.  Experience told her the surest
way to squelch the couple's nearly endless arguing was to feed them.

But neither was at table when she returned to the dining area, carrying a
Morning Special in each hand.  She immediately turned toward where Asdic and
Jilyn's continued their verbal exchange.  They were standing in the doorway,
its curtain parted on either side of them.  Jilyn held up a finger,
indicating they would finish this later, and then waved Nanami over.

She sat the plates down on the table where their purses still lay.  What
could be of such importance outside to cause the only Roshtarians more
money-conscious than she to be so remiss?

Nanami's answer came even before she got to the door.  The deafening sound
of hundreds of boot heels falling in unison told the story.  She watched
numbly as newly fallen leaves were ground into powder upon the cobblestones.

The troops of Roshtaria's Mountain Legion marched smartly past the Shinonome
Cafe up Palace Row.  Each sported the breastplate and baggy trousers worn by
all Roshtarian soldiers.  But unlike the Regulars, every piece of the
Mountaineer's gear was black.  In place of helmets or floppy berets, each
wore a broad-billed wool cap.  Nanami recalled these and the sleeved tunics
were worn to ward off autumn chills and mountain winds.  While their
uniforms may well have kept the troopers warm, to her the sight of them was
chilling.

"They must be making their way to the Palace for a practice formation this
afternoon," Asdic opined.

Before Nanami could say anything, several skiffs hissed by just a few yards
off the ground.  On the back platform of the largest one stood Prince
Justen, arms crossed over his chest.  Despite the convoy's speed and a
Roshtarian Royal Guard at either shoulder, Nanami managed to catch a glimpse
of the young royal.  Justen had grown into a fine looking young man -- tall
and handsome like his father, willowy and graceful like his mother.  The
Prince looked much the same as his soldiers save he wore his cap tucked
under one epaulet.  His long, sandy brown hair stood out behind him like the
Roshtarian standards adorning his skiff's bowsprit.

"Looks like he's ready to fight," Shevlin said from behind, startling her.

Posturing just like his father, Nanami thought sardonically.  "Well, I'm
sure the Queen has already advised him of his responsibility to change into
his official robes before the ceremony tomorrow -- birthday boy or not."

She felt him hold her to him from behind her waist.  Resting her back
against his chest, Nanami felt her shoulders release their tension.
Speaking softly into her ear with his deep voice, he tried to comfort her.
"Now more than ever the Royal House needs our support.  These times ahead
will be difficult for us all -- for them especially."

"I know, I know," she sighed.  "I just don't know what good can come from
Prince Justen stomping around Cerulea showing off his toy soldiers.  I mean,
they just want to be left alone, right?"

As the Prince's convoy passed, Asdic had ceased arguing with his wife and
drew nearer the two of them.  "But you know how badly Roshtaria needs
geynosanium.  Lord Makoto and Lady Ifurita both tell us the ore may be
necessary to defend the Alliance from future aggressors."

Nanami silently realized everyone's rationalizations brought her no comfort.

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---
Two
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Makoto Mizuhara had given up long ago trying not to feel intimidated while
eating in the formal dining hall.  With the setting sun's light pouring in
through windows seemingly tall enough to touch Heaven itself, he could not
tell just where the high ceiling left off and the sky began.

He noticed someone tapping his thigh.  "Makoto, our servers would like to
know if you have finished eating."

Makoto looked to his right to see Ifurita leaning over to him.  He let his
breath out all at once, making a shooing motion with the hand he wasn't
using to prop himself up while reclining.  "Oh, yes.  Take it away, please."

One of Queen Rune's handmaidens reached over top of Makoto's shoulder to
pick up his plate.  He didn't think he'd be hungry again for a week.  After
having his fill of barbecued tree-fish skewers, baked tubers, steamed
legumes, and roast beast in rialdi sauce, Makoto silently debated whether
he'd need Ifurita to roll him home.  Of course, given wine had been served
generously enough to satiate even Lord Fujisawa's thirst, Makoto thought he
would have to depend on his wife just to *find* his way back to their
apartment.

"I hope you saved room for dessert," Ifurita said impishly.

Makoto felt his heart sink.  This was, after all, Prince Justen's sixteenth
birthday celebration.  He certainly had been to enough birthdays for both
the Prince and Princess in the past.  Shouldn't he have remembered the
pastries everyone nibbled when engaging in the after dinner well-wishing?
Many different kinds had been served at these gatherings of the Royal
Family's closest friends, though he recalled all were sickeningly sweet.  He
felt immediately nauseous.

Taking Ifurita's hand in his own beneath the table, he opened the link they
shared.  #You think anyone would be offended if I begged off?#

His wife smiled, nodding toward the end of the great table.  #Fear not,
Makoto.  We will likely be here awhile.#  She winked before breaking their
link.  "Sometime hence the prince will open his presents before tea and
scones are served," she whispered.

Makoto fondly thought just what a sight Ifurita was, dressed in her loose,
flowing blue-grey silk robe.  Oddly enough, he always recalled the Doric
Peplos of marble statues whenever she wore it.  But any resemblance to Greek
goddesses of ancient Terran lore ended at her neckline.  His wife had of
late taken to putting her pale blue hair up into two thick ponytails, which
suited him just fine.  It reminded Makoto of the Ifurita to whom he had
given memories of his childhood on Earth to, for she had had none of her
own.  But that was ages ago, he lamented, knowing these days her hair style
made Ifurita look much younger than he.  Among those not old enough to
remember Makoto had oft been accused of robbing the cradle.  But Makoto's
friends among the Old Guard knew better--if anyone were to be so charged it
would have to be the centuries-old Demon-God.

To Ifurita's right sat Chamberlain Londs.  Retired now from the Roshtarian
Royal Guard, he had stayed on to counsel the monarchs on domestic affairs.
His tenure in Her Majesty's service was a long and distinguished one, during
which time Makoto had come to befriend and respect him.  He sat saying
nothing, tugging nervously at his long gray beard.  He knew better than to
intervene while an all-too-familiar scene played out yet again.

Queen Rune Venus of Roshtaria sat across the table's corner from her
chamberlain, her attention was focused toward the man sitting on her side
opposite Londs.  Her face blocked from his view by her diadem's petal-like
appendages, Makoto nevertheless knew she and His Majesty were engaged in yet
another standoff.

Makoto could see Rune's arms were folded defensively beneath her informal
robes.  The target of her ire gestured in kind.  Barrel-chested and
lantern-jawed, King Kaured was an intimidating sight even when seated upon
the floor.  A thin gilded circlet adorned with stylized evergreen sprigs
held his curly brown and graying hair above his forehead.

Rune of late had taken to wearing her long, sandy brown hair down during all
but formal state functions.  Makoto noticed how it waved to and fro as Rune
scolded her husband.  "Kaured, may I remind you that I firmly believe Justen
ought mind his tongue tomorrow?  You know we have a responsibility of being
perceived as promoting an agenda supportive of the Realm's best interest."

"Yes, my dear Rune, that I do," Kaured replied evenly, now pulling at the
corner of his mustache.  "But I assure you my intent was not to
contraindicate to our son my support for your wise position.  I was merely
suggesting the lad speak his mind this first time he has opportunity to do
so publicly.  Our nation ought to know what values its future sovereign
holds dear."

The subtext around the table was deafening.

Queen Rune had cast her die on the side of welcoming and accepting the
remaining Phantom Tribe refugees and prisoners-of-war.  Makoto recalled
Ifurita had been instrumental in Rune's decision; as Royal Champion, Ifurita
was called upon to help gauge the potential threat.  Masamichi Fujisawa,
having served the Crown well in recent years as Education Minister, had also
sympathized with the plight of the dislocated Tribesmen.  Few questioned his
credibility when drafting supporting Rune's reconciliation plan, for fewer
still could claim greater grievances than he against the Phantom Tribe.

Makoto exchanged glances with his Lord Fujisawa.  His former teacher and
longtime friend sat across table from him with his wife Miz Mishtal,
formerly known as the High Priestess of Water.  Everyone's attention focused
on Kaured and Rune, each attempting to stare the other down.

Kaured closed his eyes and sighed, begrudgingly conceding this round to
Rune. Makoto was aware Kaured's own grievances toward the Phantom Tribe ran
deep.  He could tell the king still disapproved of using his son's first
public address to deliver the conciliatory message to their subjects, but
would trust his wife's judgment.

For now anyway, Makoto thought glumly.

"Afura Mann and Shayla-Shayla send their regrets they could not be here
today," Miz said in her singsong voice, deliberately trying to change the
subject.  Roshtarian by birth, Miz had remained in her homeland as she and
Masamichi raised their little girl.  With Ai married and raising a family of
her own, everyone had been seeing less of them.  Makoto recalled Fujisawa
telling him they spent much more time at their mountain retreat.  Like her
Queen, Miz had taken to wearing her hair down these days.  Time had paled
her lavender hair somewhat, though Makoto continually marveled how Miz's
youthful comeliness showed no signs of forsaking her.

"Well, I am sure retirement has kept them busy," Rune said, her pleasant
demeanor and poise returning.

Fujisawa chuckled.  "Indeed, your Majesty," he said, running one hand
through the short graying brown stubble that covered his head.  "They will
be spending the day tomorrow with Kiku and Elena and their acolytes on
Abrigidal Plain, just beyond the Kowlan Range from us."

"Oh," Kaured said, suddenly appearing interested.  "What technique shall
they be practicing this time?"

"I believe they will be running ropes courses to improve their speed and
balance, your Majesty," Miz said in answer to the King's question.  "Qawool
and her acolytes were there just a few weeks ago for the same reason."

A mischievous giggle rose up from next to Kaured.

"Andria, keep a civil tongue in your head," Rune admonished.

Barely nine years old, only Princess Andria's head and shoulders could be
seen above the table.  Arms crossed and brow furrowed, she pouted silently
after her mother's rebuke.  "Dear mother, my tongue is a model citizen.
Maybe Justen could learn from the Great Priestesses how not to be such a
clumsy oaf!"

Prince Justen, seated between his sister and Miz, glared back at her
indignantly.  "Dear sister, I think you owe me an apology."

"Nay, dear brother.  Maybe you should make sure your new boots are laced all
the way up tomorrow.  That way you won't make us a laughing stock like you
did at the Spring Festival!"

"I did NOT make a fool of myself!  I carried myself with all the grace and
poise befitting those of royal stature, such as ourselves."

"You did until you fell flat on your--"

"ENOUGH!"

Rune silenced the both of them with the look throughout all history used to
exercise maternal authority.  "Justen, tomorrow is an official function.
Appropriate dress shall be fall robes and dark clogs.  You shall have ample
opportunity to stomp about in those boots the Gannanese gave you during your
bivouac in Geynos," she said in a tone indicating the matter was closed.

"Yes, mother."

Andria giggled.  "Yeah!  You might hurt yourself badly if you fly arse o'er
teakettle again!"

Rune pointed her finger at her daughter like a spear.  "You shall utter nary
another word regarding your brother's unfortunate mishap at the Spring
Festival," she hissed.  "And for having such a 'civil' tongue, such coarse
language is unbecoming to your position, young lady!  Do you realize you
sound just like--"

"--a certain Auntie who found things more important than join us here for
Justen's birthday?"

Rune silently implored her husband not to go there again.

"You knew that Fatora would be in Doros Land this week on holiday with her
new consort, Kaured."

"Merely making an observation, love," he said nonchalantly.  "As
objectionable as I find her missing an important function like this, she's a
grown woman fully capable of making choices for herself."

"Father, it's all right, really," Justen said, his indignation at his sister
forgotten at the mention of his favorite auntie.  He beamed, holding aloft a
brightly colored box with a shiny ribbon on it.  "Auntie 'Ora left this with
my servant before she left."

"Well, open it up, young Majesty," Ifurita said.

Makoto nonchalantly tweaked the corner of his mustache as he and Lord
Fujisawa exchanged knowing nods across the table that said "this ought to be
good."

Justen pulled the ribbon off the box and lifted the lid.  Reaching a hand in
he pulled out what looked like a small ordinary leather bound book from the
tissue paper.  His face screwed up in a puzzled frown as he read aloud from
the note attached to the book's front cover.  "Justen, lad, you are rapidly
approaching the age where you shall fulfill your royal obligations, ensuring
succession for the greater glory of Roshtaria.  But no great feat is
accomplished without careful preparation.  Use this tome's illustrations and
text as you prepare for the day you shall -- HEY!"

"I believe your father and I shall have words with a certain Auntie of yours
upon her return," Rune said as she snatched the book away from the
protesting prince.  She removed the note to examine it further before
handing the book to Kaured.  Everyone watched as Rune's eyes followed the
text of the message and roll disgustedly upon reaching the end.  Rune
cleared her throat as she folded the note and pocketed it inside her robe.

Makoto couldn't help but smirk back at Fujisawa.  He felt his wife once
again open her link with him.

#So like Fatora.#  Makoto nodded his reply.

Ever mindful of her position, Rune tried to restore some dignity to the
occasion.  "'Twould seem my dear sister has a vested interest in encouraging
*our* children to continue the family line," she snorted.  "Well, Justen, we
have more presents for you that you may find useful for tomorrow and your
long journey ahead.  Wouldn't you agree, Kaured?"

All eyes turned to Kaured, who sat leafing through the book his wife had
handed him.  His enraptured eyes wide as saucers, he turned the book
sideways as if to get a better look at a double page illustration.  His
barely audible mutterings would have gone unheard had he not been the focus
of attention.  "Gods, I had nary an idea 'twas even physically *possible*
for two people to--"

Ifurita was first to lose it.  The other adults at the table burst out
laughing as Rune pulled the book from Kaured's hands and slammed it hard
down onto the table.  "May I remind His Majesty to maintain a wee bit of
decorum while in the presence of his subjects?" she yelled above the
cacophony of laughter.

Kaured sat stone still while his wife rebuked him, arms once again crossed
defiantly across his chest.  Rune herself even began to chuckle as his
cheeks and forehead turned red despite his best attempts at stoicism.
Makoto felt sorry for Andria and Justen, sharing puzzled looks not knowing
really what was going on.  They would understand, in due time.

His full stomach ached from laughing, but Makoto didn't care.  It gave him
great comfort to be reminded, once again, that despite their station the
members of the Royal House were a family first and foremost.

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After a time, Justen opened the remainder of the presents.  It seemed the
entire Alliance had given him gifts to aid his long mission ahead.  Laide's
metal smiths had forged a metal climbing ax Fujisawa couldn't help but drool
over.  Makoto's sensei recounted a tale heard during his travels that its
mottled blade and pick would never dull.  Balta sent an entire wardrobe
woven from the wiry yet warm wool of their mountain sheep.  From the
tanneries of Doros Land came an oilskin duster, just the thing to keep dry
with during sudden mountain snows and storms.  The gift from Gannan's
cobblers had already arrived; Justen had commented how he was sure his new
boots would serve him well.  He told everyone he had already worn them that
very afternoon while marching his legions toward the Palace.

Kaured's native Geynos had sent a pair of custom made spectacles with very
special lenses -- they could see through the illusions of the Phantom Tribe.
Rune had at first objected to Justen's possessing something so
contradictory to the official Roshtarian position of trusting the Ceruleans.
She noted even the possession of such things by the royal family could cause
rumors of mistrust to fester.  However, before another argument could erupt,
Kaured managed to convince his wife it was only for Justen's own security he
should have such an advantage over any potential assassins.

Makoto chuckled halfheartedly as he and his wife sauntered back to their
Palace apartment.  Fortunately, the group did not again succumb to hysterics
for the remainder of the evening.  Certainly his spleen would have ruptured
if they had.

He felt a tingling in his hand as his wife opened another link.  #What
troubles you, Makoto?#

#Aside from feeling I'm about to burst?#

#You have that faraway look in your eye again, Makoto.  You have said little
since we left the Great Hall.#

#I--I was just thinking about how it seems that lately every time we see
Kaured and Rune they seem to be at each other's throatss.#

She turned her eyes toward the floor as they walked.  #Yes, they do.  They
come from very different backgrounds, you know.#

He said nothing for awhile, lost in thought.  #They're not like us,
Ifurita.#

#Of course they are not, Makoto.  They are monarchs -- we are merely
servants.#

He chuckled so only she could hear.  #Rather high ranking servants, it
seems.  But that's not the only difference.#

Ifurita's silvery brows arched quizzically.

#I mean their marriage is so much different from ours, Ifurita.  Theirs was
arranged by advisors and diplomats.  I'm sure King Byron and Queen Lastacia
disappeared long before thinking what would happen in Rune and Fatora's
future.#

Ifurita understood his meaning.  She nudged him as she winked.  #True,
theirs was a political marriage, Makoto.  But I think you underestimate
them.  Remember this?#

Makoto blinked as the walls of the hallway shimmered out of existence.  He
hovered motionless in front of one window of the royal chambers.  From his
vantage point, Makoto could see a younger Rune and Kaured dressed in plain
robes reclining on the futon out on the balcony.  Hopping in through the
window and landing silently on the floor, he walked over toward them.

Kaured and Rune started, breaking their intimate embrace.  "L-Lady
If-f-furita," Rune stammered, "is something amiss?  On whose order to you
appear before us?"  She sounded more surprised than angry.

Makoto felt his lips move, but it was not his voice he heard.  "Why yours,
your Majesty.  Princess Fatora came to my quarters saying you had insisted I
come to you right away."

Kaured grunted.  "Methinks ye have been had, Lady Ifurita.  Rune and I have
been here all afternoon together making -- OW!"

"What I think my dear husband is trying to say is that we have been here all
afternoon enjoying one another's company before we entertain the members of
the Council this evening."

Kaured just nodded, biting his lower lip while trying not to look down where
Rune had stomped on his foot.

Howling laughter emanated from the apartment across the gardens.  "So it
would seem," Makoto heard Ifurita say while he looked disdainfully over
toward the opposing balcony.  "My apologies, Majesties.  By your leave?"

"Of course, Lady Ifurita."

Makoto felt himself hop over the balcony rail just as the present moment
came back into focus.  Makoto chuckled, giving Ifurita a peck on the cheek.

#You're precious.#

#Ask Lady Jilyn -- there are many stories of Rune and Kaured's being caught
all snuggly.#

Makoto snorted.  #She would know, that's for certain.#

#Not to change the subject so quickly, Makoto, but is not next week the
anniversary of Shevlin and Nanami's joining?#

A look of realization came to Makoto's face.  #Yes, that's right!  I had
forgotten all about that!  I didn't bother writing it down because--#

#--because you expected them to join us for the Prince's birthday, did you
not?#

He lamented just how subtle Ifurita's interrogations could be sometimes.
#All right, all right... yes, I'm disappointed they didn't come.#

Makoto slowed his pace as they continued walking down the wide corridor.
#Amazing where ten years have gone.#

He stopped, taking Ifurita's hands in both of his.  #I remember like
yesterday the look on Nanami's face when we told her about the Eyes of
Geynos.  It took my breath away -- Nanami looked as if the weight of the
world had been lifted from her shoulders.  Since she didn't have to be the
eyes of the Intelligence Regiment anymore, I figured she and Shevlin could
look forward to a normal life at last.#

Ifurita snickered.  #Normal I suppose as one could be with an alien mate.#

He chuckled in reply, bringing a smile to Ifurita's face.  #Yeah.  We should
know.#

Makoto's smile faded as they began walking again, hand-in-hand.  #Roshtaria
owes many thanks to Nanami and Shevlin for our even being able to celebrate
such an occasion as today, Ifurita.  I couldn't help but wonder if anyone
but me noticed they weren't there.  That's what bothers me most.#

They stopped in front of their door.  Ifurita let go of Makoto's hand while
he worked the latch.  "I suspect they feel uncomfortable coming here because
they feel they have been a political liability to Her Majesty and--"

#Let's finish this inside, shall we?# Makoto interrupted as he took her
hand.  He nodded down the hallway where one of the palace guards stood at
his post.

No one met them at the door, for Makoto and Ifurita had dismissed their two
servants for the day before leaving to attend the birthday celebration.  He
surprised himself at how relieved he was that they had the place to
themselves.  Since Ura had failed to meet them at their apartment door,
Makoto figured she was out doing whatever cats do this time of night.

Both had learned how things said in the wrong place could certainly become
grist for the Palace's rumor mill.  And Makoto knew the subject of their
conversation had become a very divisive one throughout the Alliance.

"Makoto, I detected nothing from the guard that would suggest to me he even
heard us, much less comprehended what we were talking about," Ifurita
scolded him as they dressed for bed.  "True, their obvious political
standing may have something to do with why we have seen little of Nanami and
Shevlin around the Palace of late.  However, I surmise magnesia milk ending
up mysteriously in the flan Their Majesties served to the Geynosian Allied
Defenders is the greater reason," she said, wagging her finger at Makoto.

He groaned from underneath his sleeping cloak as he pulled it over his head.
"Those bastards had it coming and you know it, Ifurita.  Don't try to tell
me you didn't think they got theirs for what they said about Shevlin and
Nanami."

"On the contrary," she said with a wry grin.  "I was quite amused to learn
Nanami had given them the gift that keeps on giving."

Scrunching up his face in response to his wife's biting wit, Makoto
continued.  "Seriously, Ifurita, attitudes toward the Refugees are hardening
because of the Cerulean situation.  And if that's not bad enough, have you
noticed lately our Young Prince seems bent on becoming the warmongers'
errand boy?"

"Do you truly believe that, Makoto?"

He shook his head disgustedly.  "To be frank, I'm not quite sure what I
believe anymore.  Rune seems to have talked some sense into him at least.  I
hope."

Ifurita pulled back the covers of their bed as she spoke.  "Tomorrow, as the
Prince makes his first public address, the Fujisawas will be at his side.
Rune believes, as I do, their presence makes a powerful statement.  The
Royal House shall stand united to extend friendship and tolerance toward our
former foes."

"Well, from where I was sitting it looked like Justen wasn't at all thrilled
to share the stage with crusty old heroes from The Great War," Makoto said,
extinguishing the glow lamp above their bed by tapping on it.

He spoke again before Ifurita could reply.  "But how long do Nanami and
Shevlin have to stay away from the Palace?  I--I miss them."

She nuzzled up close to him.  #Let us make it a point to have breakfast at
the Shinonome Cafe tomorrow, Makoto.  Would that please you?#

He kissed her forehead as they got comfortable in one another's arms.  #Yes.
Yes it would.  G'night, love.#

#I shall be here waiting for you to return from your dreams, Makoto.#

He smiled.  #No, Ifurita, you shall be with me.  I shall dream only of you.#

As Ifurita sighed contentedly, Makoto reflected how he never tired of saying
that.

For Makoto, sleep was quick in coming.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------
----------------------------------------------------------------------------

-----
Three
-----

"Not meaning any disrespect, but do you intend to have us stomping around
out here all night?"

Receiving no answer, Cyrano Rilikan continued walking slightly behind and to
the left of the cloaked figure.  Even with the cool autumn air he was
grateful he'd worn a simple light shirt and dark trousers instead of his
uniform.  Despite the falling temperatures, he was beginning to work up a
sweat.  His uniform boots sure had come in handy, though.  The jagged rocks
they had meandered through earlier would have torn the soles of his loafers
right through.

Rilikan's companion picked up the pace, like a hound getting whiff of its
game.  He found himself jogging just to catch up.  El Hazard's two moons
shone brightly in the clear dark sky above them, obscuring the stars and
providing plenty of light to see by.  Now and again Rilikan would pause
while his companion prodded the ground with the staff end of what looked
like a long pickax.  Every time the pike was withdrawn from the earth, its
bearer would carefully examine the soiled end.  But how could you tell
where--

"By the Gods, you're not actually *tasting* that thing, are you?"

Jamming the pike abruptly into the ground so it would remain upright,
Rilikan's companion turned on him while pulling back her hood.  "You said
you wanted to return to Roshtaria with a bag of Shang Tai morels, yes?"

"Well, er... yeah."  Despite the pale light, Rilikan could see her gray eyes
narrow at him.  He hated it when she looked at him like that.  The blue skin
on her forehead wrinkled with disgust as she brushed aside a few errant
strands of her silvery white hair.  "But Laria, I do have a long journey
ahead of me when I leave in the morning.  I wanted to get a good night's
sleep beforehand."

"All the more reason why you should keep quiet!  Eet fa'ran nekan fer
al-Saheed nakonalena asche din t'neal..."

Laria continued chastising him in her mother tongue, as she often did when
she was disgusted with him.  Despite picking out only every other word or
so, he understood the morels sprouted only after dark.  He was pretty
certain she was saying if he would only keep his big mouth shut for more
than a few minutes she would certainly find some.

So that is exactly what Rilikan did.  Sighing in resignation, he sat down on
a boulder to watch Laria poke the ground some more with her pike.  His mind
soon filled with thoughts of home while he absent-mindedly gathered his long
graying hair back into a pony tail.  Tomorrow he would be on his way back to
Roshtaria, where his home and friends would be waiting.

How long had he been here anyway?  Twelve, no, more like thirteen months?
Rilikan remembered then feeling excited and nervous, anxiously anticipating
his first commission after transferring into The Champion's Legion.  Had he
known then just what had awaited him here in Cerulea, he may well have
requested a desk assignment -- promotion be damned.  "Stranger in a strange
land" had been an understatement.

How the hell were they supposed to make camp when they couldn't even pound
tent stakes into this rocky ground?  "Get to know the locals, assess their
culture," Dean Traugot had told him.  Never mind knowing them, sometimes
just *finding* the Ceruleans had been difficult.  Reconciling contradictory
orders from Floristica, acting as liaison when the mining rights
negotiations stalled, keeping peace within the ranks, trying to learn their
language: all in a day's work in for the commander of the Royal Cerulean
Expeditionary Force.

More often lately he found himself silently cursing his own government
rather than the Ceruleans.  As the months went by, Rilikan found himself
becoming more and more comfortable around these stoic, proud, resilient
people.  He hoped the Floristican brain trust would read his report and come
to the same conclusion he had.  All the Ceruleans really wanted was to be
left alone to live peaceably.

Sign of the times, he thought while recalling his cadet days at the
Roshtarian Royal Academy of War.  Right after the Eye of God had blinked for
what everyone thought was the last time, he enrolled like many young men and
women his age.  Had a quarter century really gone by hence?  At the time the
depths of the treachery plotted for years by Galus and the other leaders of
the Phantom Tribe were just being uncovered.  Remaining Tribesmen had
certainly shown no signs of surrendering quietly.  Roshtarians had believed
the only good Tribesman was a dead one.

And many Roshtarian leaders today viewed the Ceruleans just like that --
leftovers from Galus' empire.  Rilikan's accepting this assignment had
become political suicide.  It had distanced him from many of his old
Academy mates over those very issues, some whom had become very high in The
Realm's hierarchy.  He could not help but feel chills when al-Farsi had
explained to him one potential solution to "the Cerulean problem."  While he
had never shirked away from a fight, he felt great trepidation at what he
knew awaited him within Floristica's audience halls.

Hearing Laria squealing excitedly dissipated Rilikan's dismal thoughts.
Taking a few steps in the direction from which her voice came, he saw her
kneeling on the ground behind another boulder.  He smiled upon seeing a
couple of the gnarled light-colored fungi in her hand.

Go figure.  The Ceruleans had been very secretive and mistrusting toward him
at first, yet here was the Great Shamaness of Cerulea herself delighting in
something as banal as mushroom hunting.  He shook his head as he knelt down
next to where Laria had begun plucking the little mushrooms from the peaty
soil.

Hardly seemed like he had been with them a year already.  Even if he stayed
with them another decade, Rilikan despaired he would ever understand these
people.

The two of them managed to fill several small sacks with the morels even
though they popped a good many in their mouths.  "Mind to consume not a
great number of these at once, my friend," Laria gently admonished.  "Ye
shall find ye with the quickstep if you do."

Rilikan grimaced, knowing the condition Laria referred to described the
speed and frequency with which one afflicted would visit the latrine.  Then
the realization hit him.

He bolted to his feet, scowling at her.  "You mean to tell me the reason I
was so sick when we first arrived here is because you were trying to poison
me with these mushrooms?"

"Did your second not tell you to refrain from overeating?" Laria answered,
standing to face him.

"Yeah, well, we'd been on bivouac beforehand so yours was the first real
food we'd eaten in a month," he said sheepishly.

"Tch," she said glancing down at Rilikan's middle.  "I think your missing a
meal or two would have no ill effects."

He was about to retort back about how a soldier never knows when his next
meal will be.  But the look on Laria's face made his words catch in his
throat.

She spoke slowly in a squeaky whisper.

"We are not alone."

Tiny wrinkled mushrooms rolled about in all directions near where the two of
them had let their sacks drop.  Rilikan and Laria stood back to back in a
defensive stance.  His rapier drawn, her pike at the ready, the two of them
glanced in all directions to locate their unseen aggressors.

"Who--"

Laria cut him off with a sharp, low hiss.  That was enough.  Rilikan had
come to trust her incredible, ancient ears.  He had heard nothing before; he
heard nothing now.  And he saw nothing, save for what his imagination
perceived to be enemies behind every outcrop of rock.  Who were they?
Roshtarian?  Cerulean?  Hard liners on either side were eager to silence
them both; did it really matter?

Moot point, he thought while berating himself sharply.  Wasn't he forever
warning his own men never to wander out alone after dark?

Laria had heard enough.  "Many.  Too many," she said, bolting into action
barely a heartbeat before Rilikan.  He turned just in time to see Laria
strike out at one of the shadows.  It went down, gurgling horribly through
the hole her pike had torn through its throat.

Realizing Laria had forced a hole in their trap, Rilikan knew they had to
use it -- now.

He heard footfalls behind him.  Yes, there were many -- damn, they were
fast!  The remaining attackers uttered nary a peep as they trod over where
their comrade had fallen.  No shouts of alarm, nothing.

They're good, he thought darkly.  Too damn good.

Rilikan caught sight of Laria making for the ravine.  "Is she mad?," he
muttered, remembering the footing there was treacherous even in the daytime.
At the bottom of the steep, rocky embankment, the Jilea River roared,
disappearing behind a sharp bend a few dozen rods downstream.  Taking stock
of their situation, he realized their aggressors had left them little
choice.  Terrain was a passive enemy, equally dangerous to their pursuers.
They would have to take their chances.

He could scarce believe his eyes as two of their cloaked foes leapt right
over his head, landing squarely in front of Laria.  Cursing to himself, he
understood they meant to force them both over the edge.  His partner ducked
and sidestepped to the right without even breaking stride.  Rilikan rushed
in to fill the gap, just as he knew Laria was counting on him to do.  He
lunged forward, aiming low toward his opponent's abdomen.  A countering
blade flashed into his view; steel rang against steel.

Rilikan muscled himself forward, grunting loudly as he slammed his shoulder
into an enemy at least as heavy as he.  It was enough.  The blow knocked his
opponent to the ground, where Rilikan ran him clean through.  He twisted his
rapier savagely, gutting his victim.  Spinning toward where Laria defended
against her own opponent, Rilikan could see she was in trouble.  She was
keeping the bastard at bay with her longer pike, but his lighter weapon
parried Laria's thrusts easily.  He knew she could break their standoff, but
the attackers had numbers in their favor.

Rilikan crouched, ready to charge when a flicker of movement to his far left
caught his attention.  Instinctively he pivoted toward the new threat,
clumsily parrying a swipe he swore had been fast enough to whistle.
Stumbling back from the impact, he managed to tear his attacker's hood with
his flailing blade.

Dread and loathing overtook him as he glimpsed his attacker's features in
the dim moonlight.  "Dear Gods," he breathed.

His opponent took full advantage of his hesitation.  Although he tried to
deflect the blow, Rilikan knew his effort was futile.  He screamed in agony
as his shoulder shattered underneath his attacker's heavy truncheon.  Barely
conscious as he crumpled to the ground, his vision blanked out as the
explosive pain numbed his senses.

And then he felt nothing.  Nothing at all.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------
----------------------------------------------------------------------------

----
Four
----

"Citizens, it is with all humility that I embark upon the task that has been
entrusted me.  I say this for like many here, I am not old enough to
remember the Bugrom War.  I was not yet born when the might of the Bugrom
Empire was turned against the Alliance, when the treachery of the Phantom
Tribe brought Roshtaria to the brink of utter ruin.  But the legacy of that
war weighs heavily upon me.  I see it in the face of my father when he
speaks of the terrible ordeals he and his family endured, when he speaks of
the terrible battles in which he fought.  I hear it in the voice of my
mother when she speaks of that madman Galus and his cruel betrayal.  All
told, my family is but one of thousands who have suffered at the hands of
our enemies.  Could not tales of loss and suffering be told by any one of us
gathered here today?"

Masamichi Fujisawa frowned inconspicuously as he watched the young Prince
addressing the masses packed into Floristica's great semicircular
amphitheater.  He and his wife Miz Mishtal sat slightly behind and to the
left of the podium Justen stood behind.  "Don't lay it on *too* thick, boy,"
he muttered loud enough only for her to hear.  Miz said nothing, but the
look she gave him spoke volumes.  He knew it well after living together all
these years, raising their daughter.  She was resoundingly clear she
believed now was neither the time nor place for editorializing.

"Citizens!" Prince Justen continued in his clear, resounding voice.
"Tomorrow when I embark upon my mission to Cerulea I will be taking with me
more than the finest soldiers in the Alliance.  I will be taking with me the
hard lessons our people have learned from the cruel war that was thrust upon
us.  And I believe the greatest lesson is this: whatever terrible weapons
our enemies unleash, our greatest defense is forever found within each one
of us!  The strength and honor inside us all has made this nation great, and
shall carry the day irrespective of the challenges ahead.  With me today are
two whose strength and honor created a better day for us all.  Join me in
honoring two of Roshtaria's finest -- Lord Fujisawa and Lady Miz!"

A hearty cheer rose up from the throng encircling them.  Miz and Fujisawa
both took their cue, smiling and waving toward the assembly.  "Got to hand
it to him, he knows how to work a crowd," he spoke aloud, knowing only his
wife could hear him above the thunderous applause.

"I don't think his voice can last much longer," Miz said.  "He'll be
wrapping up soon."  There was a hint of relief in her carefully measured
tone, a feeling he could empathize with.  Justen was more or less behaving
himself, but the subtext of his speech was making both of them
uncomfortable.  Earlier Justen had made vague and passing references to how
he planned to execute his orders.  While Fujisawa conceded the Realm
required geynosanium to mitigate the threat rogue Tribesmen posed to the
Alliance and its colonists, what Prince Justen called for in Cerulea was
nothing short of annexation.  Fujisawa came to a disturbing realization --
al-Farsi and his ilk had turned the Prince into their poster boy.

Justen raised his arms to silence the cheering crowd.  "I shall make it my
mission to ensure that Cerulea shall join the Alliance peaceably.  I shall
not rest until all Alliance citizens can journey through Cerulea with no
more fear than if they were walking the streets of Floristica itself!"

And with that the masses took to their feet.  Fujisawa hmphed to himself as
he gazed around the amphitheater at the cheering mob.  Surely the merchants
and shipbuilders were cheering the loudest, eagerly anticipating a new
influx of geynosanium Justen's Mountaineers were all but certain to provide.

"So here we find ourselves, my fellow Roshtarians.  We stand at a crossroads
with two paths before us.  One leads to uncertainty and suspicion, the other
to security and peace.  For ourselves and our posterity, the latter choice
is the one we must choose now and--"

Primal fear replaced melancholy as Fujisawa's peripheral vision suddenly
went white.  The concussion blew him clear out of his seat, sprawling him
roughly across the stage before him.  He winced painfully as the blast's
report pounded his eardrums.

Then all hell broke loose.

Voices came from everywhere.  Some sobbed, some shouted.  Some were scared,
some stoic.  A few barked orders and demanded status reports.  But as
Fujisawa shook his head to clear it, there was only one voice he needed to
hear.  As his vision came back into focus, he scanned the stage frantically.
Where the hell was Miz?

Painfully, Fujisawa got to his feet.  Across the amphitheater, bedlam
ensued.  Panic had set in despite the best measures of the Palace Guard to
prevent a riot.  On the side of the stage opposite where he and Miz had been
sitting, he could see Captain Seecham rallying his men.  He felt relieved
twice over as he saw Miz with two of the Mountaineers, helping the dazed
Prince to his feet.  Seecham pointed toward the Prince, and instantly an
armed detachment surrounded the both of them.  Their escorts hurried them
toward the planned emergency exit.  Satisfied his wife and the Prince would
soon be safe, Fujisawa hurried to catch up with Seecham.  If the blast had
trapped anyone underneath piles of rubble, his abilities would surely be
needed.

A second explosion rocked the stage, followed within seconds by a third.
Fujisawa and everyone else on the stage stopped, looking around madly to
locate from where the blasts had come.  They had been further away and
muffled, as if they came from underneath the amphitheater itself.  Fujisawa
relaxed slightly.  The explosions had had no visible effects, save whipping
the crowd's panic into a frenzy.  He dismally thought even that was damage
enough.  He stiffened in mute horror when he turned his attention toward the
spectator exits.  All the portals had become unmoving masses of people.  He
felt sick as his hearing returned enough to register the screams and moans
of those being crushed and trampled.  Fujisawa stood stupefied as he watched
people being pushed back away from the exits and out into the amphitheater.
A moment later the reason became patently clear.

Alarming amounts of gray-green smoke poured out of every exit and vent in
the great building.  Fujisawa's brow furrowed as he recalled the whole
building was of built from stone and brick.  So what the hell could be
burning so fiercely?

His stomach knotted when Fujisawa heard his wife scream over the din and his
ringing ears.  He turned and vaulted the fifty or so feet between them in a
single leap.  As his superhuman legs carried him aloft, Fujisawa saw the
guards at the front of the procession leading Miz and Justen to safety drop
to their knees, grabbing at their throats.  He had assumed the cloud they
were heading toward on the way to the exit was dust kicked up from the
blast.  But watching as the two guards writhed around on the floor gasping
for air, he knew someone had planned something much more sinister.

Fujisawa pulled his wife and the still woozy Prince away from the other men.
Now two more guards had gone down trying to aid their comrades.  The first
pair coughed uncontrollably, spewing blood into great clouds of red mist.
Past where Seecham was ordering his guards to scurry the remaining
dignitaries to safety, he could see the same scene playing itself out at the
other exit.

Knowing he had no time to waste, Fujisawa unceremoniously hoisted his wife
over one shoulder and the Justen over the other.  He hoofed them along like
two sacks of grain, running back to the front of the stage to escape the
billowing cloud.

Fujisawa took a deep breath to mentally balance himself.  This did not look
good.  Not good at all.

He set Miz back on her feet as he frantically gazed about.  Panic tore at
his mind as he looked for an escape route when he knew none existed.  The
ominous smoke bore down upon them from all sides.  In seconds all three of
them would be enveloped by the clouds of gas looming all round.

As Miz's eyes met his, Fujisawa felt a strange calm in the midst of chaos.
They exchanged glances, once again using the silent language they had
created over the years they had been together.  He saw in her eyes not
resignation, but resolution.  He nodded.  Yes, he understood.  He knew what
both of them had to do.

Ai.  Their precious daughter.  Mother of their grandson.  A long time ago,
Ifurita had given them a priceless gift -- the chance to see another sunrise
with their child.  She had risked herself to rescue Ai on Earth during the
Silent Invasion of the Phantom Tribe.  Today, despite the sacrifice
required, they would pass along the favor.  They would see to it another
mother and her child were reunited.

Fujisawa longed for his wife's embrace in a way he had never experienced.
He saw her looking at him, eyes telling him she felt the same.  The passion
with which they kissed afforded them momentary respite from the grim task
ahead.  Fujisawa took her at arms length, drinking in the sight of her
before him.

"M-Miz, I l-love you," he stammered, as the poisonous cloud began wafting
around their feet.

Miz nodded, as he wiped a single tear away from her cheek.  "And I you,
Masamichi."

She quickly removed her scarf, dunking it into a pitcher of water from a
table near the podium.  Justen blinked stupidly at her, as if his eyes were
failing to bring her image into focus.  Blood trickled from the Prince's
ears and nose -- classic signs, Fujisawa concluded, he had sustained a
concussion.  He was probably seeing double.

"Lady Miz, what are you--"

"Close your eyes tightly and take shallow breaths," Miz interrupted,
wrapping the soaked towel tight around Justen's head.  Fujisawa took the
wobbly Prince in both arms while his wife climbed up on his back.  Locking
her arms around her husband's neck, she whispered gently in his ear.  "I'm
ready," she breathed.

"Miz, you should cover--"

"You will be blind," she said with finality.  "My elemental senses can guide
us, but not if my face is wrapped up.  Now go."

Fujisawa simply nodded.  He squatted down into a crouch.  On the other side
of the wall at the rear of the stage laid Palace Way.  The street outside
would afford them a marginally higher measure of safety, but they had to get
there first.

And Fujisawa had already predicted their chances.

"Let's go."

With a grunt, Fujisawa hurled the three of them headlong into the billowing
greenish-gray cloud.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Can't we fly any faster?"

"If you had refrained from eating those pecan rolls like I told you, we
might!"

"Oh, yeah?  And who ate that whole stack of double chocolate flat cakes by
herself yesterday?"

"I didn't want them to go to waste!  I wouldn't have needed to if you
weren't so damn fussy!"

"Yeah, well maybe if *you* were more fussy you'd be able to still fit into
your ablution garments!"

The Great Priestesses of Wind and Fire continued sniping at each other while
making their best possible speed towards Floristica.  Elena Mahre had sensed
the massive disturbances in the air currents all the way out on Abrigidal
Plain.  There she and Kiku-Kiku had spent the day running the ropes courses
with their acolytes, under the watchful eyes of the Elder Sisters.

Shayla-Shayla and Afura Mann had dispatched them to go on ahead to
investigate, after Elena had consulted with Afura regarding the wind
disruptions.  The Elders would follow behind on the ground with the
acolytes.  Cresting the top of Mount Knowlan, Elena and Kiku could see the
smoke plumes heading upward into the sky above Floristica.

The two of them fell silent as they neared the city.  Shock overtook them
both as they bore mute witness to the disaster before them.  The streets
were jammed with people fleeing the burning amphitheater.  Enormous clouds
of smoke rose from the building, darkening the sky above.

"I'm detecting three centers of incendiary activity down there," Kiku
proclaimed, nodding toward the amphitheater while her brown hair flopped
across her face.  "They're just ahead of us -- two on our right and one to
our left."

"Huh," Kiku added, furrowing her brow.  "That's strange."

"What, that you said something useful?"

Kiku glared at her.  "Give it a rest, Windbag.  I mean there's something
weird about those fires over there.  Way too little heat for all that
smoke."

Elena's only reply was to begin hacking.  Her long blonde braid shook
violently while she struggled to regain her breath.  Kiku clutched Elena's
belt in a death grip, fearful her fellow Priestess might decorate the
landscape below with the both of them.

"HEYHEYHEY!  Girlfriend, we are losing serious altitude here!  Awright
awright awright -- I take back what I said about your ablution clothes,
already!

"ELENA!?!?!  ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME!?!?!?"

Kiku could see the tears streaming rolling out of the corner of Elena's eyes
as she fought to regain her composure.  "G-gods," she spat as they leveled
off.

"Just what the bloody hell was that all about?"

"You... were... right," Elena stammered.  "That's no ordinary fire."  She
coughed a couple more times before continuing.  "I just now had the Wind
bring a little wisp of the air from within the amphitheater to me.  There is
some kind of toxin in the air, and it's really strong."

"Gods, Elena... there could be poison gas!  Make like the wind!"

"Hang on," she replied.

Kiku grunted, wondering silently whether her shoulders had dislocated from
the sudden acceleration.  Elena spared no time closing the distance between
them and the amphitheater.

"What's that?" Kiku asked of her pilot.

"What's what?"

"That."  Kiku wrapped one arm around Elena's middle before pointing off to
their left with her free hand.

They could make out a lone figure hovering above the amphitheater, holding
what looked to be an ornately carved staff.  Little tornadoes danced and
swirled all about, preventing either of them from making out just whom they
were looking at.  All at once the vortexes plummeted, swirling into the
gaseous clouds below.  Elena halted their flight, recoiling in horror as
they both realized who stood before them.

"Th-that's Ifurita!" she shrilled.  "Y-you d-don't think sh-she's--"

"Catch a clue, Airhead," Kiku retorted, not admitting that for a moment she
had entertained the same notion.  "Obviously she's trying to extinguish the
fire."

"Dear Gods," Elena breathed.  Then she shouted to her partner, "We've got to
stop her!"  Kiku grunted her assent.  Both of them understood how Fire and
Wind worked together well enough.  What Ifurita was doing would make an
already bad situation worse.

Ifurita stood panting in midair, holding her staff in both hands.  She
acknowledged them with a curt nod as Elena drew close.  "What the hell is
going on?" Kiku shouted to her.

"Gas attack.  I just got here... thought I could do something to help."  She
pointed toward the cloud beneath them.  "I sensed your approach, so I sent
those will-o'-the-wisps down to purge the gas from the area near the stage."

Ifurita's normal unsettlingly cool composure began to unravel as she
continued.  "Miz and Fujisawa are down there somewhere with Prince Justen!"

"Please," she begged, "help me find them!"

Elena and Kiku gasped.  Far above the amphitheater, they had a bird's eye
view of the carnage below.  They saw the bodies of those who had been
trampled beneath the mad crowds and many more that had been succumbed to the
gas.  But Elena's horror soon turned to anger.

Elena grabbed Ifurita roughly by the shoulder, shaking her madly.  "Just
what the Seven Hells are you thinking?!" she barked.  "You're only fanning
the flames!"

Ifurita stared back dumbfounded at her accuser.  "But I thought--"

"Amateurs like you can hardly use the Power of Wind for much more than a
battering ram, Demon-God!" Elena shouted.

"Hey, trim them sails, Windbag," Kiku rebuked her.  Ifurita said nothing.
Kiku saw the horror in Ifurita's eyes as Elena's words sunk in.  "I know you
were trying to help, ma'am, but leave this one to us," she said, poking
Elena's shoulder with one finger.  "I don't often agree with Airhead here,
but she's calling this one right."

"Very well," Ifurita said, shamefully turning away from them.  "I shall
remove a few of the exterior walls to enable people to make egress."

"Fine, then," Elena snarled.  "Hang on, Hothead!" she impatiently shouted
over her shoulder to Kiku.  "We'll need an air pocket to breathe while we go
down there.  Have your Lamp ready for when we find the fire's source."

"I think I can make out the combustion centers from here," Kiku said,
staring intently down toward the amphitheater's stage.  "I see one!" she
exclaimed, brown eyes wide while she pointed.  "Drop me down there, El!"

"Got it," Elena replied.

Kiku glanced sadly toward Ifurita as the two of them descended into the ugly
greenish-gray cloud.  The Demon-God hovered motionless, looking as if she
had just been slapped.  Kiku felt for her.  When they returned to Muldoon,
she and Elena would have words.

Ifurita's reaction struck Kiku as especially ironic, given Ifurita could
flatten all of Floristica if she ever took the notion to.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"This way, Elena!"

Elena silently hoped Kiku knew what she was doing.  Their flight had ended
at the edge of the amphitheater's stage.  It had taken Kiku only a few
minutes to locate the combustion source in the tunnels below where they
landed.  They held hands to keep Kiku within the pocket of breathable air
Elena was producing for them.  Elena had explained that should Kiku step
outside of the air pocket's protection, she would suffer the same fate as
the guards they had passed.

Poor bastards, Elena thought.  They had almost tripped over the bodies of
several guards who had been overtaken by the gas.  As they ran, Elena tried
to put the horrific images out of her mind.  Even now they were especially
hard to forget.  Many of the guards lay with their eyes bugging out of their
heads.  Several died grabbing at their throats, their tongues hanging out of
the corner of their mouths.  A few lay faces down in puddles of their own
blood, undoubtedly coughed up in their last terrible moments of life as
their lungs disintegrated.

She was grateful, really, when Kiku interrupted her dismal thoughts.  "There
it is!" she said.  "Hey, girl, you all right?"

"Y-yes," Elena stuttered.  "I'm fine," she feigned, knowing Kiku knew
better.

In front of them appeared to be what looked like a simple smudge pot.  Elena
knew them well after having helped her father for years tend the family
orchards, where they slowly smoked all night to keep the insects away from
the fruit.  But this one was much larger than any she had ever seen.  She
guessed it to be roughly six feet tall and eight feet in diameter.  The
poisonous smoke billowing from the top of the pot was thick enough to
obscure their view.

To Elena, something just did not look right.  "I don't see anything
burning!"

"There's something burning all right, I can sense it," Kiku replied.

"Damn!" Elena barked.  "That stupid Demon-God fanned the flames after all!"

"That's not her fault, El.  Ifurita doesn't have our elemental vision,
remember?  Her heat sensors could never have picked up a smoldering fire way
down here."

Elena grunted in reply as a look of inspiration passed across Kiku's face.

"Hang on, I'm going to try something, Elena," she said, bracing herself.
With a cry, she yanked the ripcord on the Lamp fastened to her left wrist.
Blue flame instantly encircled Kiku, emanating from the red jewels stitched
into her headband, epaulets and belt.  "We need to move back, though."

The two of them sprinted about twenty paces away from the smoldering pot.
Kiku bowed her head, balling both fists as her Lamp glowed white hot.  She
screamed as she lunged toward the smudge pot, thrusting her open palms in
front of her.

A bolt of bluish-white fire streaked from Kiku's fingers, hitting the pot
right near its rim.  Elena felt the back draft created by the bolt as it
exploded with a blinding light.  She heard a great sucking noise as the
smudge pot seemed to implode upon itself.  Another whiff of smoke puffed out
of the pot, then nothing.

Elena looked over at Kiku, who stood next to her panting.  She held her
hands ready to cast another bolt if necessary.  "I- I think you snuffed it
out, Key," Elena said, sniffing at the air cautiously.  "There doesn't seem
to be any more smoke coming out of it."

Kiku started snickering nervously.  "I didn't know for sure if that would
work," she confessed.

"Well, whatever you did, it looks like it--"

The pot loudly belched another cloud of the poisonous smoke.  Elena cursed,
reinforcing the little pocket of air around them.  "Calm down," Kiku barked,
"I'll try again!"

Just as Kiku wound up for another bolt, Elena felt the hair stand up on the
back of her neck.  She shook Kiku's shoulder urgently.  "WHAT!?" Kiku
snapped, turning on her.

Elena's finger shook as she pointed down the corridor.  "Massive air
disturbance headed this way!"  And fast.

"Get down!" Elena hollered, yanking Kiku roughly to the floor.

A blast of air rushed over their heads.  Nary a heartbeat later, a wall of
water the height of the corridor slammed into them.  Elena's pocket of air
surrounding her and Kiku imploded, her concentration broken from the impact.
Enveloped in water, they tumbled roughly over each another while struggling
impotently against the current.

The water roared down the corridor, smacking into the smudge pot with the
force of a tidal wave.  Kiku and Elena bounced off the walls, the floor, and
each other before finally coming to rest in an undignified heap.

Coughing and sputtering, the two priestesses managed to get to their feet.
Elena rebuilt her air pocket with a wave of her hand to protect her and Kiku
from any residual gas.  She saw the smudge pot bowled over on its side,
contents spilled all over the floor.  The flow of poisonous smoke from the
pot had finally ceased, its smoldering fire quenched.

"You're late, Qawool," Elena shouted as she wiped her dripping wet golden
bangs from her eyes.

The Great Priestess of Water tossed her long blue hair back as she shushed
by surrounded by a shroud of charmed water.  She slid toward the overturned
pot, sending up her signature water spray before stepping down to face them.

Her aura of water shattered into a million tiny droplets as she stepped
within Elena's air pocket.  "Yes, well, I took a little detour on the way to
douse another two smudge pots."

"Well, that should be the last of 'em," Kiku said as she looked around.
"Sure glad you showed up."  She looked forlornly toward where the drenched
smudge pot sat upended.  "My little gimmick didn't work as advertised."

Qawool tsked.  "We can talk about that later," she said.  Her tone told Kiku
and Elena she was asserting herself as the eldest Great Priestess.  Qawool
had served for many years with their predecessors.  Elena and Kiku both paid
her the deference she had long since earned.

Elena realized Qawool probably did not know what Ifurita had told them up
above.  "Ifurita had asked us if we would help look for Prince Justen.  He
was here with Lord Fujisawa and Lady Miz--"

Qawool's face went pale.  "You mean the Elder Sister is here!?" she said
incredulously, cutting her off.  "Right now!?!?!"

She did not wait for either of them to answer.  "Both of you, come with me!"
she exclaimed.  "Here," Qawool said to Kiku while pulling her sash free of
her billowy trousers.  "Take my sash and hold tight."

"Right," Kiku complied.

"Elena, follow us back aboveground.  Can you create a vortex large enough to
carry away the remaining gas?"

"Without even trying hard," she replied confidently.  Qawool enshrouded her
and Kiku with her water while Elena shrunk her air pocket.  They wasted no
time returning to the surface.

Elena knew their friends might not have much time left.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ifurita drew a bead upon the wall before her.  From the tip of her staff
came a very controlled and precise beam, creating an opening large enough
for people to fit through.  Satisfied, she once again took to the air above
the panicked crowd.

"This way, everyone," she yelled, flying low enough over their heads to
attract their attention.

The crowd saw their salvation at hand through the hole Ifurita had created.
People stampeded toward the relative freedom and safety offered along Palace
Way.  Some ran, others hobbled, many being helped along as they gasped and
gagged.  Several pleaded with Ifurita, wailing as they beseeched her to help
them find their friends and loved ones.  Everyone needed to vacate, she told
them over and over, to prevent them from impairing the city guard's search
and rescue effort.

So it went as she perforated the amphitheater's perimeter with several more
openings.  As she finished the last one, she could feel the air move all
around her.  She looked above her, seeing Elena's form silhouetted against
the sun.  The air moved more quickly now in a great maelstrom, gaining
momentum with each passing moment.

Ifurita touched down at the rim of the amphitheater, sinking her fingers
into a section of railing pipe.  The maelstrom of air soon drew all the
poisonous smoke within itself.  Raising both hands above her head, Elena
directed the swirling air upwards.  The remaining gas rose away from the
amphitheater, dissipating harmlessly into the atmosphere high above them.

She felt the tension release from her shoulders, thankful the immediate
threat to her friends had passed.  But Ifurita noticed a chilling similarity
between the phenomenon she saw now and those she remembered from years ago
on an ancient field of battle.  The gas had spread over the top of the
vortex, billowing down its sides.

She recalled Makoto describing his homeland having seen such things before,
over places called Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

A giant mushroom cloud.

Ifurita heard the timbre from the thousands of voices she could discern had
change somewhat.  There was a little less panic now.  She heard a few cries
of joy and relief as some realized they were saved.  But most of the voices
she heard were weeping -- either fearfully for the missing, or mournfully
for the dead.

She realized now the real task began.  "Elena," she called, flying up to
where the Priestess of Wind hovered tiredly above the amphitheater.  "I have
not yet found Miz, Fujisawa or the Prince!"

"Qawool is here now looking outside with Kiku," Elena panted.  "I'll hook up
with them and keep searching."

"Right, then.  I shall look around in here."

"Wait, Ifurita!  I--"

Ifurita was off before Elena could finish.  She flew above the stands of the
amphitheater, empty now save for the bodies of those killed by the gas or
trampled to death under the panicked throngs.  Incredibly, her sensors
registered several vital signs amidst the carnage.  They were strewn about
the amphitheater, most nowhere near the stage where the Prince had been
last.  She homed in on one of them, feeling like she had to help whoever it
was.

#They are not your primary concern.#

She hated herself for it, but realized The Voices were right.  Once they
were her taskmasters, though now she had come to depend on them as her
tactical advisers.  They reminded her of the old language's word for that
terrible necessity learned from countless theaters of battle.  But what she
remembered now was the word from Makoto's people instead.

Triage.

Panic began to tear at her senses as she frantically zoomed through the
tunnels beneath the amphitheater.  She saw little along their planned escape
route save the Royal Guards, not a one of them registering any signs of
life.  To her, this scene looked all too familiar -- like a page torn from a
book of her horrible past.  The aftermath of a gas attack was nothing new to
a Demon-God.  Familiar scents from the battlefields of the past ages
assailed her enhanced olfactories.  The ruined bodies strewn about the
tunnel reeked of blood and vomit, bile and excrement.  Looking at the
grotesquely contorted faces around her, Ifurita thought she could almost
hear the awful sounds of their death throes.

She was not at all sure what made her more afraid; not finding her friends
or finding them like *this*.  "No," she breathed, oblivious to the wall
rushing up to meet her.

At the last possible moment Ifurita turned, rocketing upwards toward the
surface.  She blew the roof off the little shelter covering the stairwell.
"They must have come this way," she muttered as she frantically scanned the
crowds below her for familiar faces.  "They must have."

Ifurita finally made out the Priestesses.  Off like a shot, she flew up and
over the crowds to where they grouped together with several medics.
"Gods... no!" she squeaked, landing next to them an instant later.

Her knees almost gave out completely as her brain comprehended the horror
taking place in front of her.

Qawool Towles knelt on the ground, back towards her.  Miz lay there
motionless as her younger Sister held her head gently in her lap.  The
Priestess of Water sobbed hysterically, begging and pleading the Gods above
to spare her Elder Sister's life.  Ifurita could not see Miz's face, but the
blood splattered all around told her what the corpsmen must already know.

They were too late.

Instinctively, Ifurita averted her eyes.  When she looked up a moment later,
she noticed Prince Justen hobbling toward them.  With a Mountaineer under
each arm helping him along, they made their way to where Miz and Fujisawa
lay.  Justen favored his right leg, only taking half-steps with his left.
Ifurita felt her heart stop as Justen doubled over, coughing and gagging.
But after a moment he caught his breath.  He was visibly shaken, bloodied
and bruised, but he was alive.

Ifurita smiled slightly, relieved tremendously that the Prince was being
cared for.  She heard him gasp as he glimpsed Miz with Qawool.  The horror
in his face plain to see, Ifurita slowly shook her head.  But she could not
bring herself to meet his gaze, so simply stared at Justen's feet.  Even
over the chaos, her sensitive hearing could hear him stammering, vainly
trying to make sense where none existed.

Glancing to her right, Ifurita spied Kiku kneeling over who she believed to
be Fujisawa.  Her heart leapt, for her sensors still registered his vital
signs.  With a single leap she was at his side.

Even a thousand years of war had not prepared her for what she saw now.

Fujisawa thrashed madly while Kiku and Elena did their best to restrain him.
He coughed savagely, spewing blood and bile over them all.  Despite the
Priestesses trying to hold him still to let the medics attach a breather,
Ifurita realized he was beyond help.

She knelt down beside where Elena tried desperately to keep him calm.
Without warning, Fujisawa clutched Ifurita's shoulder with strength that
would have certainly crushed ordinary human bone.  His wild, staring eyes
locking on hers, Fujisawa jawed impotently like a beached fish.  He was
trying to say something, but his lungs were hopelessly flooded.  What could
he possibly want to tell her in the last moments of his life?

"Fujisawa, my friend--" she began, biting back her tears.

#--your wife is dead,# the Voices silently finished.

No, she said silently, vowing the voice Fujisawa would hear would be hers
and hers alone.

"Masamichi... the Prince is... alive," Ifurita half spoke, half sobbed.
"You and Miz... you saved him.  Both of you."

But Fujisawa did not seem able to hear her.  Even while Ifurita's sensors
detected brain waves fading into white noise, he simply stared at her madly.
Soon, the fingers Fujisawa had sank into her shoulder went limp.  His eyes
glazed over as his convulsing ceased.  His visage became peaceful as his
chest rose and fell one final time.

Her memories flashed back to a hospital room on Earth so many years ago.  In
a terrible instant, Ifurita found herself haunted by words of gratitude
spoken by the young mother lying in the hospital bed.  She had just reunited
Miz and baby Ai after the savage Tribe attack that had separated them.

Until now, those words had given her pride and a sense of purpose.  But now,
Ifurita's mind struggled with the bitter irony they contained.  For all her
powers and abilities, today she believed she had failed to protect her
friends and countrymen.  Ifurita's heart shattered, those words taunting at
her over and over and over.

"Ifurita, for my life and hers, I thank you."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------
----------------------------------------------------------------------------

----
Five
----

"That is when..."

Makoto gave Ifurita's hand an encouraging squeeze as she paused to collect
herself.  Rune and Kaured sat together on cushions at the far end of the
reflecting pool.  The audience chamber of the Floristican Palace was filled
with diplomats, officers, scientists and academics; all had responded
swiftly to convene this emergency assembly.

"Please, Champion," Kaured implored, "go on."

Makoto bit his lip, knowing at the moment Ifurita doubted her worthiness to
bear that title.

"That is when I brought Prince Justen back to the Palace, your Majesties,"
she continued.  "He told me en route how Lord Fujisawa had carried him over
the poisonous smoke, guided by Lady Miz."  Makoto noticed the slight tremor
in her voice, but doubted anyone else had.  "I knew he would require medical
treatment, so I brought him here to the Palace infirmary."

Kaured nodded, appearing to give his consent to Ifurita's decision.  He
lowered his head, pulling at his graying beard as he sighed.  Rune sat
silently, staring at the floor.  Her characteristic poise and presence had
been thoroughly and noticeably shaken since the attack.

Makoto looked over across the reflecting pool from where he and Ifurita were
seated.  It was becoming more difficult by the minute not to think about the
significance of the two empty cushions that lay there.

His attention turned to the man seated next to the empty cushions who rose
to address the assembly.  He appeared to Makoto to be considering his words
carefully.  His olive-colored brow furrowed and his bushy brown eyebrows
knit as though in deep thought.  Makoto grimaced; he was afraid he had a
good idea what the tall man would say.

"My countrymen," he began after Kaured's acknowledgment, "this savage attack
simply cannot go unanswered.  We owe to our children and to each other our
best efforts to find the mongrels responsible for this travesty, and hold
them accountable," he said, punching his palm with the other fist.

"Minister, what suspects have you thus far considered?" Kaured asked on
behalf of the entire group.

Ahlid al-Farsi twirled the small braid at the end of his long brown beard as
he continued.  "Majesty, it is far too early for my ministry to declare a
prime suspect.  We will work with the Royal Guard to scour the site for
clues as to who perpetrated this terrible deed.  But I would be doing the
Realm a disservice not to play my hunches."

Here it comes, Makoto thought.

"I am convinced further investigation will reveal that the Cerulean Nation
had at least a supporting role in--"

His words were drowned out by roars of disagreement from all around the
room.  But Makoto could easily see the lines of division within the
assembly.  As he looked around the chamber, he could see equal numbers of
those who decried al-Farsi as a bigot and warmonger and those who had
supported his hard line policies to obtain the geynosanium mining rights.

The volume in the room grew rapidly.  Makoto saw the look of determination
on Londs' face as the old man began to rise, ostensibly to quiet the room.

"SILENCE!"

Rune's voice pealed like a bell throughout the chamber and the assembly fell
silent.  Everyone looked to her now, standing between were Kaured and Londs
sat.  Her smoldering eyes swept across the assembly with the slow precision
of a searchlight, daring anyone to speak out of turn.

There were no takers.

"Minister al-Farsi," she began, glaring at him.  "You will begin conducting
a full investigation into this matter at first light.  You shall report to
us at sundown every day your investigation's progress.  Any significant
findings shall be reported to us at once.  Effective immediately until such
time as my son is able to resume his command, I appoint Deputy Commander
Leonid to assume command of the Royal Mountaineers.  They shall provide
security for the scene and for the physical evidence beginning now and until
further notice.  My Champion shall accompany you to ensure a fair and
reasonable examination of whatever evidence you do find.

"Do I make myself clear, Minister?" she finished, indicating by her tone it
was a rhetorical question.

Makoto could feel Ifurita's hackles rise as al-Farsi coldly looked their
way.  "Yes, your Majesty," he said resignedly.

Rune glanced sadly toward the two empty cushions at her right.  "Minister
Carnellian, please attend to the funeral preparations for our fallen
heroes."
"At once, Majesty," the balding, stocky man next to al-Farsi answered.

Makoto watched Rune turn and hurry from the chamber while Kaured stared
mutely after her.  Certainly she was on her way to the infirmary to check up
on Justen.  The king blinked stupidly a couple times before clearing his
throat in an attempt to maintain the dignity of the proceedings.  "We shall
convene again at sundown tomorrow to hear Minister al-Farsi's report," he
said, dismissing everyone.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The cold autumn rain showed no sign of letting up.  Makoto and Ifurita
wandered the dark and empty streets of Floristica, making their way back to
the Palace.  Neither had said a word to the other since leaving The
Shinonome Café, where Nanami and Shevlin had immediately closed up after
hearing the news about her former sensei and his wife.  Makoto could not
recall a time before he saw Nanami so horrified as when Ifurita coolly told
them what fate had befallen the Fujisawas.

To wit, Ifurita's indifferent demeanor chilled him more than the cold rain
ever could.  He had been fumbling for the right words to say to her ever
since they had left the royal audience chamber, but to no avail.  Being
forced to work with al-Farsi was one thing, but Ifurita doing so while
hardly beginning to cope with the loss of their friends troubled him.
Unsure enough of his own feelings, he could only imagine what was going
through Ifurita's mind at the moment.  It certainly didn't give him any more
confidence in his ability to say something -- anything -- he believed would
bring his wife comfort.

After a time they entered the Palace proper.  Makoto, grateful to be inside
and out of the weather, paused momentarily to shed his oilskin and hood.
But Ifurita hurried past without a word, leaving little drops of water
behind as she walked.  "Wait," he called after his wife as he trotted to
catch up to her.

But Ifurita appeared to not be listening.  He caught up to her as she worked
the latch of their apartment door.  He placed a hand on her shoulder as the
door swung open.  "Ifurita, what--"

The words stuck in his throat as her eyes met his.  All those years ago,
when an entire civilization trembled at the mere utterance of her name, he
had seen her for who she really was.  Then, Makoto had seen the spark of a
soul behind those eyes, long trapped by centuries of abuse, manipulation,
and battle.

But those eyes were vacant now.  What he failed to see in her eyes was that
sparkle that had become her trademark.  She looked tired, numb, and weary.
Never had he seen his wife so weak and helpless.

"Home now?  Home now?"

Ifurita silently turned and stepped inside.  Makoto blew out his breath
resignedly.  "Yes, Ura, we're in for the night," he said, rubbing his face
with one hand as he closed the door.

After absent-mindedly dropping her own oilskin into a heap on the floor,
Ifurita sat down on the little settee that faced toward their balcony.  She
stared out over the railing, watching the rain fall without even bothering
to remove the scarf she wore over her hair.  Makoto gingerly took a seat
next to her.

He began uncertainly, breaking the uneasy silence.  "Ifurita, I--"

"Frita okay, Makoto?  Frita okay?"

Makoto chuckled wistfully as the pudgy cat that had interrupted him jumped
up in his lap.  He stroked her luxurious orange mane with one hand, placing
his other arm around his wife's shoulders.  "I'm not sure, Ura," he said,
coaxing his wife toward him.

Ifurita's eyes met his.  Her lips quivering, she spoke tremulously in a
squeaky voice Makoto barely recognized.

"Makoto, h-how am I--" was all she managed before she collapsed in his arms.

Ura jumped clear just before being sandwiched between them, but Makoto
hardly noticed.  Ifurita's whole body rocked while she sobbed hysterically.

All Makoto could do was sit there dumbfounded, holding her to him.  Not once
in all the years they had been together had he seen her reduced to this.
While tears rolled down her cheeks like rivers, Makoto's mind was awash with
his own emotions.  Loss and sorrow at losing his friends loomed large, and
he despaired at the sense of helplessness he felt.  His seeming inability to
comfort his wife nagging at him, Makoto could not bring himself to ask her
the most disturbing question.

Did Ifurita actually blame herself for what happened?

"Makoto," she said at length in between sobs, "how am I going to tell Ai?"

A simple question, Makoto thought, yet it was one lacking a simple answer.
Answers seemed more and more elusive, in fact, thinking about everything
wearied him.

Makoto nodded off dejectedly, hoping tomorrow he would think of something.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------
----------------------------------------------------------------------------

---
Six
---

"Ma'am, are you sure?"

"Yes, Lieutenant, I am quite sure."

The combat engineer sighed resignedly.  "This way, then."

Ifurita looked over her shoulder at Makoto, nodding for him to follow.
Together they walked behind the soldier as he guided them through the
corridors.  Despite the cool autumn air, Makoto sweat profusely from the
heavy canvas coveralls each of them wore.  They were taking all the
necessary precautions to prevent exposure to any remaining poison gas that
may have settled into these tunnels deep beneath the amphitheater.  Each of
them also wore gas masks and cloth hoods over their faces.  Makoto reasoned
Ifurita wore the same gear not for her own protection, but to prevent
carrying any of the poisonous substances back to the surface.

"Royal Engineers Third Battalion has been down here all night, trying to
contain the material spilled from the smudge pots," the lieutenant
explained, nearly shouting to be heard behind his mask.  "We're not yet sure
just what's in the stuff or how it came to be placed here.  But we do know
from the eyewitness reports of the Great Priestesses it was the materials'
combustion that produced the poison gas."

Makoto half-listened to the combat engineer's monologue, picking up snippets
such as "further chemical analysis required" and "evidence collection
continuing."  Concern for his wife was far more important to him at the
moment.  This morning, when he awoke on the settee in their apartment, he
noticed his wife looking at him the same way as before he had fallen asleep.
She had said little all morning, only picking at her food when their
servants had served breakfast.

But that had changed when they had arrived at what was now being considered
a crime scene.  Ifurita was all business, gathering information from
whatever source she could.  He was glad they had not crossed paths with
al-Farsi yet, but thought glumly their meeting was inevitable.

Their tour of the catacombs where the smudge pots had been discovered over,
Makoto blinked repeatedly as the midmorning sun hurt his eyes.  After
walking through the coarse spray from an overhead sprinkler to ensure none
of the poison remained, they entered one of dozens of tents set up where the
amphitheater's stage had been.  Here they began shucking their protective
gear.

"Forgive me, m'lord and lady," the lieutenant said, sitting cross-legged on
the floor while pulling at his galoshes.  "Our field commander wanted me to
bring you to him after your tour," he droned on loudly, obviously forgetting
the fact his breather no longer muffled his voice.

Makoto and Ifurita exchanged confused looks.  Leonid, after all, had hailed
them as they passed during their tour of the catacombs.  Why did they need
to see him now?

"That will not be necessary, Lieutenant Jizar," someone said, as if to
answer their question.

Ifurita and Makoto both looked up beyond where the lieutenant sat.  A
bespectacled man dressed in a gray laborer's tunic and trousers stood there,
cradling a hard hat in the crook of one arm.  He was about the same build
and age as Makoto, although over the years had taken to growing his beard
out.

"I sincerely wish we could have met again under better circumstances, my
friends."

Makoto felt a sense of relief at the sight of the man.  If Dyvernius Traugot
was here, then Rune and Kaured must be bringing their best and brightest in
from the field to help address this crisis.  Traugot, who Makoto had come to
know and respect from their joint scientific endeavors, was recognized as
one of the best analytical minds in all Roshtaria.  In fact, a few years ago
Traugot had bestowed upon him the title Dean of the Royal Academy.  He had
been Schtalubaugh's most respected understudy, and had been the logical
choice to succeed Schtalubaugh after his death.  Makoto reasoned Traugot had
left his official robes in his quarters, for now his friend looked more like
a stonemason than Roshtaria's top scholar.

"Vernie," Makoto said, shaking Traugot's hand warmly.  "Did you just get
back from the mines?"

"Just this morning, Mack," Traugot replied.  "Queen Rune herself dispatched
a team to find me in the tunnels under Geynos to help determine what
happened here."  He sighed, suggesting to Makoto there was much they did not
yet know.

"We have little to go on so far, but let me tell you what we do know,"
Traugot said resignedly as they left the equipment room.  He picked up a
pair of hard hats and shook them to unfurl the canvas tails that would
protect the back of their necks from the sun.  He handed one to both Makoto
and Ifurita before placing his own back atop his head.

"Have you located the three combustion sources?" Makoto inquired.

"Yes, we were able to locate them with Sister Kiku's help."  Makoto and
Ifurita listened carefully as Traugot pointed about the amphitheater,
describing the scenes the smudge pots had been placed.  "That's where the
first one went off," Traugot said.  "We believe it detonated prematurely."

Makoto nodded, making a mental note to inquire how Traugot had arrived at
that conclusion.  "What about the chemicals used?" he asked, changing the
subject.

Traugot blew out his cheeks as he exhaled.  "We are still trying to contain
them.  Some pretty noxious stuff remains down there."

Makoto chuckled.  "Yeah.  I figured those canvas suits weren't your idea of
good fashion sense."

"Well, that was just a precaution.  The engineers tell me they will have the
tunnels sufficiently ventilated by nightfall to render those unnecessary,"
Traugot replied.  "Did you see the scorch marks?"

"Yeah," Makoto replied.  "I saw one place where some of the piping above the
smudge pot had been removed."

"I had them collected as percussive damaged specimens for examination.  Did
you see the pipe joints themselves?"

"No, the engineers had just finished cutting them down and inventorying them
when Ifurita and I walked by."

"Ah.  They're working fast.  The lorries carrying the plasma torches arrived
only a few hours ago."  Traugot motioned to the two of them with one hand.
"Let me show you something interesting."

He ushered Ifurita and Makoto to a field tent set up near the stage of the
amphitheater.  The people working inside wore a variety of uniforms...
engineers, scientists, Palace guard, and the ubiquitous Mountaineers.  Bent
over their work, none noticed as they entered.

The three of them knelt near a pallet while Traugot pulled back a cloth.
Underneath were several pipe sections Makoto recognized from the tunnels.

"Take a look here, Mack," he said, pointing at the pipe joints.  "Notice
anything?"

Makoto whistled as he examined the joints.  "These pipes look like they've
melted."

"Right.  But notice the percussive damage as well."

"Vern, this would have had to get real hot really fast in order to introduce
this much plastic deformation."

"That was the conclusion I had come to.  But how do you suppose that could
have happened?  We haven't found any trace of any rapid-discharge
incendiaries yet."

Makoto's face fell as a disturbing thought occurred to him.  Traugot nodded
knowingly, suggesting Makoto had come to the conclusion he had been leading
him to.

"By the Gods, Vern.  Initrotolulene?"

Ifurita, who had been listening intently to their exchange, looked
quizzically at the two of them.  "That is a very high-yield explosive, being
characteristic in its consuming itself almost entirely during detonation as
I recall," she said.  Her brow knit as she tugged at her chin thoughtfully.
"But Royal Ordinance uses other explosives that are easier to handle.  And
so do the Engineering Corps."

"Vern, you don't think--"

"Geynosite has to be blasted out of the ground, right?"

Makoto's eyes went wide.  "You're not suggesting what I think you're
suggesting, are you?!?!" he asked incredulously.

He noticed one of the technicians look up from her work, her attention
obviously drawn to his raised voice.  Upon recognizing Ifurita, she snapped
to attention, eyes wide.  "M-M'lady Ifurita, Champion of the Realm!" she
said loudly, thumping her chest in salute.  Everyone else in the room
scrambled to their feet, soldiers and civilians alike.

Makoto couldn't help but notice how the simple act of recognition affected
Ifurita.  Flabbergasted, she blinked momentarily as she stood mute among
them.  But her determined look returned quickly.  "As you were, servants of
the Realm," she said, thumping her own chest in response.

Everyone in the tent resumed their work.  "Er... Ifurita," Makoto began
nervously.

"Yes, Makoto?"

"I thought you requested that during peacetime soldiers didn't address you
formally."

"Well, yes, I had, but--"

"--but we are at war now, Champion."

Makoto felt his shoulders droop.  "I would hate to think it necessary to
remind the Queen's own Affairs Minister a declaration of war requires
concurrence of the Council," Ifurita spat back over her shoulder.

"And I would hate to think it necessary to remind the Queen's Champion a
temporary police action does not," Minister al-Farsi lectured from the
corner of the tent he had emerged from.  "I have exercised my prerogative,
nay, my responsibility to conduct this investigation as if gathering
intelligence against an enemy of the state.  I believe it prudent to
henceforth conduct this operation as a military exercise rather than a
civilian investigation."

Makoto watched as Ifurita's face screwed up with scorn and contempt.  "Since
the Minister has already seen fit to declare war on the Queen's behalf,
surely he intends to inform her exactly whom she has declared war upon," she
said, her voice oozing with invective.  "Her Majesty will no doubt be
pleased to know that you've finished your investigation and identified the
culprits with such haste and efficiency."

Every vein in the Minister's face was clearly visible beneath his beet red
skin.  "Now see here, Champion--"

"M'lady Ifurita, Champion of the Realm!" a new voice shouted, interrupting
al-Farsi.

Ifurita gasped, looking past Makoto to where the voice had come.  Makoto
could see her alarm as she recognized Major Ketter Saulit before her, fist
over his heart.  He remembered now.  The blonde man was Commander Rilikan's
aide-de-camp, second in command of the Royal Army's Cerulean Expeditionary
Force.

But how had he gotten here so quickly?, Makoto thought.  Cerulea was many
days' march to the west!

"Major Saulit," Ifurita addressed him curtly.  She frowned, due Makoto
believed at the disturbing implications of Saulit's presence rather than
from having her exchange with al-Farsi interrupted.

Saulit panted, standing at attention as best as his tired legs would permit.
"M'lady, the Royal Cerulean Expeditionary Force has returned."

"At ease, soldier," Ifurita said, to which Saulit complied gratefully.  "You
may continue with your report."

"Ma'am, Acting Commander Saulit of Her Majesty's Fifteenth Infantry
reporting--"

"'Acting Commander?', Ifurita interrupted.  "But what of Commander Rilikan?"

Saulit paused momentarily.  Makoto knew firsthand that soldiers were advised
to choose one's words carefully while delivering bad news to the Queen's
Champion.  A sense of dread overwhelmed him as he noted the man's statement;
he believed none of them would like Saulit's answer.

"Champion, it is my sad duty to inform you Commander Rilikan is missing," he
began, pausing as if having difficulty accepting the terrible fact, "and is
presumed dead."

Ifurita's face fell.  An uneasy silence fell over them all, save for
Saulit's panting.  Before anyone could say anything else, Ifurita turned and
left the tent.

Makoto clasped Saulit and Traugot each on the shoulder, motioning them to
follow her.  He had a fairly good idea of what must be going though her mind
right now and he didn't like it one bit.  He was also sure that whatever
Saulit had to say, Ifurita felt it necessary to maintain secrecy.  As the
three of them almost ran to keep pace with Ifurita, Makoto looked back to
see al-Farsi following a few steps behind.

He watched Ifurita enter what appeared to be the command tent, and then saw
a pair of vermilion clad reserve corps officers make a hasty exit.  Makoto
reached for the tent flap, holding it aside as the group filed in one by
one.  He didn't appreciate the smug look on al-Farsi's face, but said
nothing as he closed the flap behind himself.

"Continue, Commander," Ifurita addressed Saulit, not bothering to turn
around to face them.

"He had left camp with Laria, the Cerulean High Shamaness," he said
uneasily, "They were planning to go out mushrooming.  But neither the troops
nor I saw him again before we broke camp to begin our scheduled march back
to Floristica.  As we made our way toward the Geynosian border, my advanced
scouts found a site on the banks of the Jilea River where a struggle
appeared to have taken place."

Saulit flinched as Ifurita crossed the room more quickly than any human
would have thought possible.  "Picking mushrooms?", she barked angrily in
Saulit's face.  Even Makoto felt himself wince.  "By the Seven Hells, man,
do you really expect me to believe my commander was out picking mushrooms in
the middle of the night accompanied by the leader of a nation whose
intentions and motives are unknown to us?"

Visibly flustered, Makoto felt for the younger man as he struggled to
compose his reply.  "Ma'am, I can merely report what my superior officer
told me."

Ifurita looked to Makoto as though she was about to say something else, but
instead motioned for Saulit to go on.  "Rilikan's rapier was found along
with a few shreds of his uniform.  I then ordered the soldiers to break
ranks and search the area.  We found pieces of what we believe to be Laria's
cloak, near where a couple sacks filled with morels appeared to have been
dropped hastily.  T-there had obviously b-been a struggle, ma-ma'am."

Makoto noticed that Ifurita had taken to staring at the floor.  That seemed
to rattle Saulit all the more.  While her role as Queen's Champion over the
years had been more a ceremonial than a tactical one, he had been at her
side during times trying for their kingdom, their friends, and each other.
Never had he seen her give one of her subordinates the third degree like
this.

"Immediately I reformed the columns and began marching the expedition back
to Roshtaria as originally planned," Saulit was saying, doing his best to
stay focused.  "A few hours later we were met by Commander Mazood of Ninth
Transport, who relayed his orders to deliver Commander Ril--"

Saulit coughed nervously, wilting under Ifurita's penetrating gaze.

"I m-mean, er... well, t-that is, Fifteenth Infantry's Acting Commander to
Floristica with all due haste.  I left Lieutenant Fawaz in charge and
returned with Mazood and Baker Company."

Ifurita was silent for a moment.  Makoto watched as her face went blank, the
way it always did when she was consulting her Voices.

"Has Laria resurfaced?"

"None of us have seen her, and the Ceruleans have gone to ground since
Rilikan's disappearance.  We usually see several of them every day, ma'am.
We had developed what we thought were good relations with the Cerulean
Tribesmen, in fact, we had even worked out a barter system with them.  None
of them have been seen since the Commander disappeared, even though we
thought for sure they would be seeing us off."

Makoto swallowed hard, dreading what he knew Ifurita was about to say.

"Commander, render me your assessment of recent events."

Translation, Makoto thought -- tell me you believe Laria betrayed Rilikan.

Saulit looked at the floor for a moment before looking back up at his
superior.  "In all honesty, Ma'am, I don't know what to make of all that has
happened.  Right up until the Commander disappeared, he would have trusted
Laria with his own life.  Lieutenant Fawaz, Ensign Geord, myself... we all
felt the same way.  She visited the camp and invited us several times to
dine with her in her tunnel chambers."

He blew out his breath as he continued.  "With all candor, ma'am, we were
all beginning to like her.  We liked her frankness and unassuming nature --
you always knew where you stood with her."

Hearing the High Shamaness being referred to continually in the past tense
bothered Makoto.  He had no doubt Ifurita didn't like where this was leading
either.

"Doesn't matter, really.  Many in the Realm will say with certainty that the
Ceruleans have betrayed us," Saulit said, glaring at al-Farsi irrespective
of his own rank.  "But I just don't know what to believe right now."

"Well, I suppose, officially Rilikan would be classified as 'missing in
action.'  But in six weeks--"

"Thank you, Minister," Traugot spat indignantly.  "I believe we are all too
aware of what you are suggesting."  No one needed reminding of the
Roshtarian Army policy that would add Rilikan to the KIA roll after missing
for that long.  The sound of the Minister's voice told Makoto without
looking al-Farsi stood close, smirking self-righteously.

"M'lady Ifurita, Champion of the Realm!"

"Gods, now who?" Makoto muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes.  This
was quickly getting old.

He turned to see Ifurita return Commander Leonid's salute.  Previously
commander of the Mountaineers before Prince Justen's appointment, he was a
seasoned veteran of many campaigns.  His long black hair drawn into a pony
tail revealed his graying temples.  Where Saulit had been obviously unnerved
during his report, Leonid spoke with detached precision.  He embodied in
every way the character of the Mountain Legion he commanded: efficient,
effective, and haughty.  But despite his patronizing demeanor, Makoto had
come to admire the man's candor and professionalism.

"Ma'am -- I came as soon as I heard Fifteenth Infantry had arrived."  Leonid
turned, sneering at the other soldier.  "Commander."

Ifurita knit her brow.  "And I am positive you shall tell me why."

"Indeed, Ma'am.  But I'll need the help of *acting* Commander Saulit here."

Now it was Saulit's turn to look confused.  "Me?", he asked, pointing to his
chest.

Al-Farsi sighed disgustedly.  "Get on with it, man!"

"Of course, Minister.  This way, Doctor, m'lord n' lady... Commander."

Several minutes later, Leonid had assembled them around an exhibit table set
up in one of the field tents near the entrance of the tunnels beneath the
amphitheater.  Makoto followed a discreet distance behind.

Leonid motioned to a few soldiers standing nearby.  They brought forward a
long narrow object, wrapped entirely in cloth.  "My recovery teams found
this about a half hour ago while clearing rubble from the first blast site.
We have a pretty good idea of what it is, but we need Commander Saulit to
confirm our suspicions."  With a nod from him, the two soldiers drew back
the cloth for their inspection.

The battered thing had been snapped in two.  But it was still recognizable
as a very well crafted staff; its ornate carvings suggested its ceremonial
nature.

All eyes turned to Saulit as he gasped.  The color drained from his face.
Saulit stood bewildered as his mouth opened and closed silently.

"Commander?," Ifurita prompted.

His voice little more than a horrified whisper, Saulit finally spoke.  "That
pike... it belongs to Laria, the Cerulean High Shamaness."

Makoto's head spun as an uneasy hush fell over the tent.

Ifurita was the one to break the pregnant silence.  "Minister, come with
me," she said, nodding to Saulit and Leonid.  Dismissed, they turned to
leave while Traugot followed suit.  Then she turned her gaze to Makoto,
finally noticing where he had been standing silently nearby.

Makoto's mouth hung open as he realized what he was seeing.  Before him was
not the face of the woman with whom he had laughed, loved, and lived these
many years.  Instead it was a face cold, aloof, single-minded.

There he saw the face of the Demon-God.

"We have much to discuss, al-Farsi," Ifurita said.  Makoto felt the hair on
the back of his neck stand on end as her eyes met his.

"If you would excuse us, my lord."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------
----------------------------------------------------------------------------

-----
Seven
-----

Ai placed the black bonnet on her head, flaring out the veil to fall freely
over her long hair.  She inspected the result in the mirror before her.  She
looked into eyes that were no longer damp and puffy, but were no less
miserable for that.  It had been two days since Ai had managed to stop
crying.

Nevertheless, she decided to forego the eye makeup, for Ai was unsure just
how well she would manage today.  She had never been to a funeral in
Roshtaria, much less a state funeral, but she had spent enough time there to
know what they expected of mourners.  Roshtarians behaved in much the same
way as mourners in her chosen homeland did -- everyone was expected to be
stoic, calm, dignified.  Ai could not help feeling that the Arabs had the
right idea about funerals.  They should be noisy affairs where everyone
could cry out and give full vent to their pain, keening their grief to high
heaven.  But her wailing had been done in private, first on Ifurita-mama's
shoulder, then on Hiroshi's.  The past four days had gone by with her barely
being aware of it.

There was a light knock on the open bedroom door.  Ai's husband stuck his
head in, looking worried.  "Honey, do you need any help?"

Ai turned to look at him.  He was wearing the black robe of mourning that
Ifurita-mama had brought over two days ago.  Somehow it was surreal; he
looked like a Catholic priest.  His long face made him appear older than he
really was.  The regulation Tokyo PD Special Vehicles Unit crewcut only
served to punctuate that particular image.  Ai smiled.  "No dear, I'm fine.
I'm just about done."

Hiroshi nodded.  "Okay.  I'll get the door when they arrive."  He left, and
Ai stood and walked over to the full-length mirror to give her much more
elaborate heavy black robe a final inspection.  Perversely it bore more
resemblance to a traditional Japanese bridal kimono, save for the color of
course.  But dressed this way, she hardly looked like a native of her chosen
home at all.  Most people here assumed her to be a "half".  Ai was unusually
tall even in modern Japan, in fact, she could look her husband in the eye
even in low heels.  Her dark chestnut-colored hair was quite wavy, and
framed a round, pale, youthful face with dark eyes that looked more or less
Asian save for the prominent folds over her eyelids.  Ai had always felt
that her looks were rather unremarkable, considering her parentage.

Ai went to sit down again, grateful for the opportunity to just sit quietly
for a little while.  It was their baby-sitters they were awaiting, the only
other people on Earth who knew what had really happened.  It had been hell
keeping this bottled up for four days.  She wanted so much to spill her
heart out to all her friends and to feel the warmth of their support.  But
it was only yesterday that Ai mustered the courage to call her other friends
and tell them their carefully prepared lies.  Her parents died in a car
accident in Europe.  Yes, it was just awful.  The bodies were being flown to
Japan tomorrow.  The funeral would be next week, could you attend?  No,
tomorrow I'll just be at home with family.  Really, I'll be fine.

But what I'd like to tell you but can't is that my father married a
beautiful woman from another planet, my mother.  And now they are both dead.

The thought that brought an unexpected, sad smile to her lips -- the first
one in four days -- was that she was blessed with three parents.  They had
been like a tripod of stability for her, guiding her through an improbable
life that spanned two worlds, maybe even two universes.  Now Ifurita-mama
was her crutch, one she was infinitely grateful for.  I must tell her today,
Ai resolved.  It has been too long since I have reminded my godmother how
much she means to me.

The doorbell rang.  Ai walked over to the bedroom door and waited.  If it
was somebody other than their expected baby-sitters, Hiroshi's simple black
outfit could be passed off as the affectations of an eccentric who had
married into a crazy gaijin family.  But the long, bulky, black robe she
wore definitely could not.

Upon hearing the familiar voices, Ai walked out into the wide hallway that
the front door opened onto.  Alielle and Ikuko had just finished taking
their shoes off and were stepping up from the tile surface of the entryway
to the raised hardwood floor.  "Ai-chan!" Alielle called in a strained
voice.  They walked quickly into a desperate embrace; Alielle's head nestled
tightly against Ai's chest.  "It's so awful.  I just can't believe it."
They separated enough for Alielle to look up at her.  "Are you really okay,
going over there so soon?"

Ai smiled down at her Alielle-onesan's pixie face.  Even after Ai had grown
nearly whole head taller than her childhood companion and guardian, she had
remained Alielle-onesan.  Even though Big Sister was nearly forty years old,
today was the first time Ai could remember feeling like her youth was
finally leaving her behind.  Maybe it was just her red-rimmed eyes, fresh
from crying over her two dear friends.  Or maybe it was that the laugh-lines
that had begun to mark her face could only be seen like this, from inches
away.  At other times, the two big, sloppy bangs of wavy purple hair seemed
to frame a face that changed little over the years.  "Onesan, I'm sorry.  I
didn't want to tell you over the phone.  The fact is, we found out four days
ago.  Ifurita-mama felt it was best not to tell anyone until... well, until
things had settled down a bit."

In other words, until they had settled on a cover story to tell their other
Terran friends.

"But how could this happen?" Alielle pleaded.

"Alielle-chan" Ikuko said gently, walking over and putting her hands on her
lover's shoulders.  "Hush now.  You'll wake the baby."  After getting a nod
and an apologetic look from the diminutive woman, she gave Ai a hug and a
kiss on the cheek.  She gazed at Ai with a look of calm sympathy.  "Ai-chan,
I'm so sorry."

"Thank you, onesama.  And thank you for coming on such short notice.  I know
you were probably supposed to work today."  Wearing her stylish navy
pantsuit, Ai concluded Ikuko had come from the office before picking up
Alielle.

Ikuko shook her head.  "I've got more days off banked than I can count.  It
will do them some good, learning to do without me for half a day."  Ai knew
that was not something that happened often of late.  The sharp, dedicated
woman's work was in great demand at the investment firm she had worked her
way up in over the past twelve years.

It looked like Alielle had calmed down a bit.  "Ai-chan, how was Ifurita?
Did she look okay?"

"Yes, she did.  But I've never seen her look so sad.  It's been hard for her
too."  That hardly touched upon what Ai had seen in her godmother the day
she brought the news, and again when she had returned to tell Ai of the
funeral arrangements in Roshtaria.  Ifurita had cried no less than she had
that day.  But it was the way Ifurita could barely force herself to look
into the eyes of her own goddaughter that had left Ai stunned.

Ifurita blamed herself for the death of her parents.  That was plain.  And
Ai had no idea what she could do about that.

They sat down together in the living room.  Alielle took a seat on the couch
beside Ai, still clinging to her.  Ai told them what she knew, which was
precious little.  She had already told Alielle the basics over the phone.
The fact that her parents had died saving Justen was little more than an
abstraction to Ai, having met the Prince a mere handful of times.  It was
something that would mean more to Alielle, for she had been very close to
the Royal Family.  At least, she had been until being forced into exile ten
years ago.

The ambiance of the room suddenly changed, as if one wall had suddenly
opened into a great void.  They all looked towards the opening that led out
to the hallway.  Swirling wisps of silvery mist that seemed to glow with
their own light rapidly formed and expanded.  With just a whisper of a
breeze, the wormhole opened up and deposited an alien creature onto Ai's
living room floor.  She heard sharp intakes of breath from everyone around
her.

The creature was a picture of dark beauty.  It was draped in a close-fitting
uniform of shining black and gunmetal gray.  The uniform was thin enough on
arms and legs to show finely toned muscles and thick enough on the torso to
be more of a semi-rigid armor.  The newcomer held rigidly at its side an
ornate staff whose twin orbs glowed as it resonated with the wormhole.  Its
long, platinum hair was covered in a black veil, framing a mask-like face of
immobile ivory.  The icy blue eyes seemed to hold in them all the cold
emptiness of the space this creature had just traversed in the wink of an
eye.  Those terrible eyes came to rest upon Ai.

Ai could guess why Alielle had gasped the loudest.  The Demon-God's
expression was cold and menacing.  Perhaps this is how Ifurita first
appeared to her and the others in the Forbidden Tomb many years ago.

Hiroshi was the first to rise.  "Okasan, w-we're ready to go," he stammered.

"Good."  Ifurita strode over to Ai, who stood before dropping Alielle's
limp, forgotten hand.  "Ai-chan, before we go there is something you should
know," she said.  Her voice was gentle, but in a professional, calculated
way devoid of warmth.  "We have confirmed who killed your parents.  It was
the Phantom Tribe of Cerulea.  We have proof."

The statement meant nothing to Ai other than to explain who had earned the
Demon-God's wrath.  The only Tribesman Ai had ever met was Nanami's charming
husband, the others merely villains of stories told by her elders.  "I see."

"We will be hunting them down in due course.  It is not something you need
to concern yourself with right now.  Today is for honoring the memory of the
mother and father who were taken from you."  Her eyes shifted as if noticing
the other occupants of the room for the first time.  "Alielle, Ikuko, thank
you for being here.  We will be returning before the end of the day."

Alielle just nodded.  She had the look of a cornered rabbit, paralyzed with
fear.  Even in the air-conditioned room, her face was starting to glisten
with sweat.

"Don't worry about coming back late, Ifurita," Ikuko said.  Alielle looked
infinitely relieved that those steel blue eyes had turned away from her.
"We can look after Kenji as long as you need."

"I've stocked up on everything," Ai said quickly, getting Ikuko's attention.
"The diapers are on the top shelf of the bathroom cabinet.  Formula is in
the kitchen pantry, second shelf from the top."

Ikuko smiled.  "Right where they always are.  Thank you."

Ai suddenly felt silly.  Ikuko and Alielle knew where everything was in her
house at least as well as she did.  "He was fed two hours ago and he's been
sleeping since."

"Thanks for reminding me again."

Ai didn't need Ikuko's friendly deadpan to reminder her she was just
stalling.  She tried to convince herself it was just because she did not
look forward to wormhole transits.  They always made her feel nauseous.
Steeling herself, she looked into the Demon-God's icy blue eyes.  "We're
ready."

Without a word, Ifurita raised her open hand.  Both Ai and Hiroshi placed
their hands in hers.  Ai fought the urge to shut her eyes, for she knew that
would just make her feel worse.  The silvery mist enveloped them, followed
by the familiar floating sensation.  In the blink of an eye, they were on
another world.

As expected, they materialized in a familiar room.  It was the sitting-room
of the opulent apartment of the Queen's Champion.  Bright tile and marble
lit by the midday sun streaming in through the high windows dazzled her
eyes.  Ai squinted, her eyes settling at last upon the back of the big sofa.
Two mops of hair, one black and one orange, were already turning to note the
new arrivals.  Makoto smiled and rose to his feet.  His cat-armor Ura just
regarded them with sad, liquid eyes.  The venerable cat was unusually
subdued, as if infected by the mood of her masters.  Ai felt great relief at
seeing her godfather.  She released Ifurita's hand and went to embrace him
gratefully.  Her godmother's unexpected stern, formal bearing had unsettled
her greatly.  Until she saw Makoto's warm, familiar smile she had been
coming close to hysteria.  As if sensing her distress, Hiroshi hovered close
to her as Makoto greeted them.

"I shall inform the Queen of our arrival," Ifurita said before marching out
of the room.  The tension seemed to melt away with her passing.

"Do you feel nervous about the ceremony?" Makoto asked softly.

Ai shook her head.  "No, Makoto-papa, I'll be fine."  It was their second
time speaking since the tragedy.  He had accompanied his wife on her second
trip to Earth, when she had brought the mourning clothes and news of the
funeral.  They had had their time to cry together, but there was something
new troubling her now.

"Makoto, is Ifurita okay?"

He hesitated, nervously tugging at his mustache before answering.  "She's
got a lot on her mind right now, Ai-chan.  This has been a big shock for
everyone, but unfortunately it has been politics as usual."  Ai was
astonished at the bitterness she heard in her godfather's voice.  "Al-Farsi
and his bunch of thugs want to throw away years of work and move against the
Tribe.  Rune is letting herself be bullied and Ifurita is more or less
caught in the middle."  He smiled, but to her his smile appeared forced.  "I
know how it must look, but that's just the way she gets when she's focused.
Don't worry, she'll be fine."

Ai could see that Makoto was worried about her too, though she was reluctant
to press the issue.  He was the only one who truly saw into Ifurita's heart;
Ai trusted him to look after her.  They spoke for a while longer.  Ai passed
on Alielle's love and sympathy, as she had been asked to.  It was a
melancholy duty; Alielle should have been here herself.  But somebody under
a death sentence ought not to return to Roshtaria glibly.

It was not long before Ifurita returned to escort them to the ceremony.  Ai
had been to state ceremonies in the Great Hall before, but today its vast,
quiet emptiness just seemed to mirror her own feelings.  As the grieving
family, she and Hiroshi were the first to be conducted into the hall.
Accompanying them were the Queen's Champion and the Dean of the Royal
Academy, to whom the duty of conducting the ceremony fell.  He was a short
man with a gentle face and bushy black beard who had warmed her heart
instantly with a sincere smile of sympathy.  Ai only knew him as Doctor
Traugot, a good friend of Makoto-papa.

Traugot took his place at the pulpit.  Ai and Hiroshi sat quietly for a
couple of minutes; the only sound heard was the occasional light peal of a
ceremonial bell rung by the robed attendants that flanked the two big
lacquer urns that held her parents' bones.  The members of the Royal Family
were first to arrive.  One by one, they knelt before the urns then walked
over to kneel before Ai to offer their sympathies.  King Kaured looked
properly stoic and solemn.  Queen Rune appeared very distressed and tired.
Ai felt for her as only a mother could.  Just days ago the Queen's eldest
child had nearly been killed, after all.  Fatora knelt unsteadily before Ai
and slurred the requisite words.  Seeing her red nose and glassy eyes, Ai
wondered if the Princess Regent was drunk.  She had heard the Queen's sister
had taken to drink since she had found out about Ikuko ten years ago.  That
had prompted her to declare the death sentence on the unfaithful concubine,
after having barely failed to impose punishment with her bare hands.  Ai
noticed Fatora's new consort was nowhere to be seen.  She surmised Fatora's
new hedonistic interest was not as endearing to the rest of the Royal Family
as Alielle had been.

Andria came next.  The little girl was all poise and grace; her words were
formal but sincere.  She was her mother's daughter in every way, projecting
dignity and warmth that magically lifted just a bit of the burden from Ai's
shoulders.  Rune must be very proud, Ai could not help thinking.

Prince Justen broke all protocol by going down on both knees and bowing to
the ground.

"I share your grief, my lady, as does our whole Kingdom."  He raised his
head back up just enough to look up into her eyes.  "I owe my life to your
mother and father.  I swear I will find their killers, whatever the cost."
He bowed again, barely stifling a cough.  Ai had been told he was still
recovering from the poison gas he had inhaled.  He bore himself well, but
somehow his words left Ai cold.  She found herself thinking of Ifurita, now
standing like an ivory statue next to where the King and Queen had taken
their seats.  Ai shivered, prompting Hiroshi to gently take her hand in his
own.

The three Great Priestesses came next.  Qawool looked devastated, having
lost her beloved mentor and friend.  Her two younger companions hovered at
either side, looking as if they feared the senior priestess might fall over
at any moment.  The blue-haired Priestess of Water also broke protocol,
taking Ai's free hand and holding it as their eyes said what no words could.
Qawool's tears flowed freely; Ai worked her hand free from Hiroshi's to wipe
away her own.  After a long moment, Elena and Kiku gently coaxed their Elder
Sister to release Ai's hand and take their seats.

There were only a few among the precession that followed whom Ai knew by
sight, Afura Mann and Shayla-Shayla among them.  The rest she figured to be
members of the Council, the Queen's Ministers and prominent academics.  Near
the last were Nanami and Shevlin.  As they knelt before the urns, Ai heard
mutterings from behind her.  "Can't believe they had the nerve--" Sister
Elena whispered rather loudly before somebody -- probably Sister Kiku --
shushed her.  If either Nanami or Shevlin  were aware of the anger their
presence had stirred, they gave no sign.  They both greeted Ai with warm
words of sympathy and sad, encouraging smiles.  Ai felt moved to break
protocol, and very softly she thanked them for coming.  It could not have
been easy for them, especially for Shevlin.

When the hundred or so who had the privilege of approaching the front had
done so, Ai heard the thousands of others being allowed to file into the
back benches en masse.  After all were all seated, Traugot began the
service, speaking in a booming voice that belied his small stature.

"Ladies and gentlemen, when dear friends depart our midst, as must we all
one day, it is our custom to reflect upon what they have left behind for the
living.  Today, it is my honor to speak for Miz Mishtal and Masamichi
Fujisawa.  My job could not be simpler.  In the span of a minute, I can say
more for each of them than could be said in many hours for any man or woman,
nay for any nation or people, in El Hazard.  They were both instrumental in
saving our world from utter ruin not once, but twice.  Were it not for their
efforts and their courage, many of you here would never have been born.
Today I could leave you with nothing more than this plain, simple fact and
walk away, confident that I had honored our departed friends as they
deserved."

Traugot's features softened, his lips parting slightly into just a hint of a
smile.  "But in fact, my job would be far from complete.  Long after they
played their parts in saving our world, both Miz and Masamichi continued to
touch many lives in many ways.  Today I can do little more than give you a
hint of what they have left behind for us."

In fact, Traugot gave