Onalé sat on the curb, careful not to brush the bandage over her kidney. She propped her spear against the tall pole beside her and opened the package she had just purchased-roast beef, the man behind the counter had called it. She looked across the street to the tattoo parlor where she had spent the morning. The artist had been very helpful, perhaps too much so, and he stood outside smoking, he nodded at her. The sandwich was good and sauce dribbled down her chin.
This realm was perhaps the strangest so far. Everything was stone and metal. Everyone was tense and rushed. The smells and sounds of this place were artificial and unsettling. She was still getting used to this concept of currency, especially as it applied from one realm to another. Things were simpler back home, but she knew her place was no longer there.
Onalé was maintaining a record of the realms. The place was fire and sulfur. Streaks of yellow-black clouds drifted low in the sky. The air burned the nose and the chest and left the tongue coated and dull. Masks of moist cloth helped, but the eyes still watered. The people here wore clear masks over their face, protecting them from the air. The hunting was very poor; there were only small rodents and beetles and few plants. But deep underground, the people mined precious gems and ore that people from other realms found very valuable. Onalé got backbreaking work in the mines for a few days and earned enough for a tattoo (showing a smoldering uncut gemstone), sandwich, and a drink. Onalé had a few uncut stones as well, but had not found anyone who would take them in exchange for currency.
The sucked out the last of the drink, a thick, sweet fruit blend, from the straw then took off the lid and scraped the sides of the cup into her mouth. Placing the sandwich wrapper inside, she stood up and changed. He looked around and then placed the trash in the bin. He grabbed his spear and walked down the sidewalk.
As he walked down the street, his sharp ears picked out a whispered conversation in a nearby alley. "Did you see that? That woman just became a man!" "This must be the one the prelate said to watch. You keep an eye on... it? and I'll go back to the chapterhouse. Don`t let it get away, or the prelate will have our hides."
Onalé paused for a half-step. Part of him wanted to confront these people, to ask them who this "prelate" was, and to enlighten them on the nature and ways of the Anguanyé. But the wiser part of him decided to run. With spear in hand, he set off down the sidewalk, bare feet falling on concrete at a swift jog. After several strides, he cut across the street, deftly avoiding traffic in both directions, and continued running away from these individuals along the opposite sidewalk.
His sudden run drew looks and shouts from onlookers, and the honking of cars forced to break suddenly was deafening. A crashing sound behind him told him that at least one driver didn't break in time. A few seconds later, Onalé realized that someone was running after him, keeping a constant distance between them.
Onalé weaved around pedestrians as he ran. And the end of the block, he glanced over his shoulder and frowned. Looking around, he spotted a wide, but short gap in the curb. It was far too narrow for a man to get through. Onalé smiled. After maneuvering his spear down the hole, he slid through after it, transforming into a snake as he did, and pulled his human clothing behind him.
Behind him the sound of obscene curses was punctuated by hard breathing, before him pitch darkness and the sound of rodents; Onalé slithered into the ancient ruins on top of which the city stood. After several moments, his reptilian senses picked up the scent of a human being ahead of him. The human was unafraid, even though he could not possibly see anything in the darkness, and, as far as Onalé could tell, non-hostile. The human had not heard him yet.
It was too soon for this person to be one of his pursuers. Onalé hoped the person would not notice the snake in the darkness and simply walk on by. Not bothering with sight, he smelled the human and felt the vibrations in the ground. The smell of the rodents was appealing to Onalé, but he had eaten very recently and so was not hungry. Onalé slowly and silently wrapped part of himself around the spear. If he had to transform into human form, it would be in his hand, and he would be ready to run.
Onalé turned to go around him, the human turned to regard him. Despite the utter darkness, Onalé got the impression that the man could see him clearly. "Greetings young one," the voice was old but strong, "Please do not turn away from me, for I need to speak with you."
Onalé transformed into a man and stood before the old man, naked and with spear in hand. "Speak, Elder, but first I must leave this place before my pursuers find me," he said calmly as he glanced up at the sewer opening. Onalé listened for commotion above for a moment before returning his eyes to the old man.
There was no sound from above, except the roaring of motors and the honking of impatient drivers. "They will not find you here, our people are blocking their scrying attempts and the entrance to the sewers. They will not give up however, for they believe you to be an anathema to all they hold sacred."
"But I have done nothing wrong," Onalé objected, but quickly realized that it was beside the point. "I am Onalé of the Anguanyé. I thank you for your assistance." Onalé nodded in greeting. "Who are your people and who are they?" He pointed up.
Now that he was in human form, Onalé could see almost nothing in the dark sewers, except the vague shape of walls and of the man in front of him. The sewer smelled musty and old, a smell of long disused stones and of mildew. "Well met Onalé, I am Ulric originally from Altiran, but lately of the Guardians of the Great Tree. As for them," A sensed more then saw motion towards the exit, "they call themselves the Inquisitors of the Phoenix, a sect within the Church that believes that rather then the Tree, the force holding the Realms intact is found inside certain men and women. Your shape shifting abilities mark you as one such person."
"Well, they are wrong," Onalé said matter-of-factly. "All the Anguanyé can change their forms as I do. Mostly. The Jaguar told me of the Great Tree." Onalé paused, not sure of what else to add, and he gathered his clothes. "Is there someplace more hospitable we can discuss this?"
"Jaguar? Anguanyé?" A sense Ulric shaking his head. "There's a lot we need to discuss. If you think you can trust me, we have an apartment where we can talk."
"I will trust you, Ulric." Onalé slipped on his khaki shorts but left his shirt off. He then followed the old man. As they walked, Onalé said, "My people, the Anguanyé, live in a realm far from here, where the mists of the Outer Veil meet the world."
"The world we leave in is full of wonders, more then any man could hope to see in a lifetime, even if he were to dedicate his life to it. And I have dedicated my life to something else..." He sighs, "When you get to be my age, you start thinking about everything you hadn't done, and everything you might have done differently. But still, knowing what I know today, I think I would have gone the same path." His voice trails off, lost in thoughts and recollections.
Onalé walked along in silence, listening to the old man, while probing the darkness with the blunt end of the spear. When he finished speaking, Onalé asked, "To what have you dedicated your life, Elder Ulric?" Onalé's voice was slightly higher now. The uneasiness of the situation caused Onalé to subconsciously revert to a slightly more comfortable form. When Onalé realized the transformation, she pulled the buttoned shirt over her head.
Ulric shook his head as her voice interrupted his thoughts. "What? My cause? The protection of the Tree, and with it the Realms. Ah, there we are, watch your steps now, there is a stairway here." He walked up the stairs and Onalé heard the sound of keys rattling, and a door opened to reveal a light, bright enough to blind after the darkness of the sewers.
Onalé shielded her eyes from the light. "How do you protect it? How do you guard something so ... big?" Onalé meant that in both a literal and spiritual sense. This was a question that had been nagging at Onalé since leaving the Anguanyé. Onalé had faith that the answers would come and perhaps they finally had.
"How do we protect it? There are as many answers to that question as the Tree has roots. Come, we shall have a drink and..." He turned to show her in and gasped, "Deary me, I thought you were a man."
"I am both, as it suits me," Onalé said. "Is that a problem? I assumed that is why I was being chased."
"It's not a problem, you just startled me. As for the Inquisitors, you are probably right." The room was comfortably furnished with a number of large, overstuffed chairs, a respectable liquor cabinet, every other amenity Onalé could imagine, and quite a few he couldn't. "What would you like to drink?" Asked Ulric on the way to the cabinet. "We have just about anything there is drink in the Realms."
Onalé looked around the strange room. "Water is fine," Onalé felt out of place in dirty, well-traveled clothes and bare feet. "Though what I had earlier was very good. I think it was called a 'smoothie.'"
"Coming right up. Anxious as I am to talk with you, you look like you could use a shower and a change of clothes." Ulric handed him a glass filled with smoothie.
Onalé inadvertently scowled at his comment. "I see." Taking the smoothie, Onalé asked, "And where shall I do this?" The lingering fear of a trap was still there and the condescending nature of such a comment had put a twinge of tension in the air. Even so, Onalé would not be a rude guest and decline the opportunity to relax in a shower.
Ulric raised his arms in a pacifying gesture, "I meant no offence, but you look like a young lady, and young ladies are vain. If you want a shower, go upstairs and take the second door on the right. If not, go ahead and ask your questions, and I'll answer to the best of my abilities."
Onalé was still unaccustomed to the strange gender roles that people from other realms used. Onalé shifted into male form. "How did you come to find me?"
"Our Seer told us where you'd be. My guess is, that's the way the Inquisitors knew where you are too."
"I would like to meet this Seer," Onalé said, "at some time." Onalé studied the half-consumed smoothie for a moment. "I thank you for your hospitality. You must tell me more of your people."
"That can be arranged. My people... That's a rather long story, that began centuries ago." Ulric poured himself a glass of cherry, and sat in one of the comfortable-looking chairs. "Please, have a sit."
Onalé took a seat, propped the spear upon a the table, and set the nearly finished smoothie down as well.
Ulric took a sip of his sherry, and closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the taste and considering where to start.
"It all started hundreds of years ago, with the appearance of the first Prophet. He emerged in a distant Realm, no one now remembers which one, and preached about the god`s plan of destruction and rebirth. Thousands believed him, flocking to his banner from Realms far and wide, and he led them to attack his target: The Great Tree Ygg. Others believed him to, that the destruction of the tree would end the world, but they didn't believe in rebirth, and so they came to the Great Tree to protect it. The war raged for years, thousands of people on each side, and for a while it looked like the defenders would win. Then the Prophet himself entered the fray, red hair like a halo of flames around his head, and magic of impossible strength flowing from his fingertips, and the balance changed. At the brink of defeat, the defenders heard the voice of the Tree itself, telling them that it will defend them from the magic of the prophet. The defenders cut incisions in the bark of the Tree, and each took a drink of it's sap. And the plants of the earth rose to their aid in battle, and the birds and the beasts fought at their side, and at last the battle was won, the Prophet has withdrawn to his fortress, and the surviving defenders stood before the thousands of dead and wept. In that day, the Guardians where officially born, their purpose not only to defend the Tree, but also to oppose the Church of Rebirth in every way. One of these ways is to protect those who, like you, have become a target for the Church's assassins."
His glass long emptied, Ulric finished his story, his eyes lost that faraway look, and focused on Onalé expectantly.
Onalé asked, "But why should I become a target for the Church's assassins? True, my quest is to protect the tree, but yet they could not know that."
"The ones who call themselves Inquisitors hold slightly different beliefs then the rest of the Church. They believe that in order to spoil the gods` plan, some mortals were given power by the gods' enemies. That power makes them more then ordinary men, and is also what keeps the Realms from destruction. According to that belief, their job is to track this people down and eliminate them. They are assisted by seers in their duty, which is how they found you. If you intend to aid us, then that is another reason for them to hunt you."
"Ah, yes, you said that," Onalé was still trying to absorb everything. A fear crept up through his spine as he thought these Inquisitors represented a threat to all of the Anguanyé. "Tell me what I must do, Ulric."
"Why don't you tell me your story from the beginning, and then I'll know how to offer better advice."
"As you know," Onalé began, "I can change forms between male and female. All the Anguanyé can and it is to us the way things are. I too can take the form of a snake, as you saw, and while that makes me unusual among my people, the ability to assume animal forms is not unique." Onalé paused to gauge Ulric's reaction.
"The ability to change forms, while not common, is not unheard of. While it is the Inquisitors goal to kill all shape shifters, they do not have the numbers to attack entire shape shifter Realms. Once you left your home, however, you became a target. Why did you leave? You mentioned a jaguar."
Onalé relaxed at the notion that the Anguanyé would be safe from the Inquisitors. "I met the Jaguar in the jungle during a vision quest. We wrested for over a day until we came to a standstill. The Jaguar told me of the Great Tree and how it held back the Outer Veil." Onalé paused. "I do not wish the world to end." Onalé smiled at how obvious that sounded. "And so I am here."
"The best advice I have for you is to join us. We seem to have the same goal, and we would fair better together. At the very least, you'll be able to recognize other Guardians and obtain their help."
"And what does joining you entail?" Onalé asked, imagining some ritual or ceremony perhaps involving tests of courage and loyalty.
"You have to drink this. If you truly want to be one of us, the Tree will accept you. If not, nothing will happen." Reverently, he unlocked a cupboard, removing a bottle filled with a viscous, golden liquid. As he opened the bottle and handed it to Onalé, a smell reminiscent of pinesap spread through the room.
Onalé took one hesitant sniff at the mouth of the bottle. "All of it?" Upon getting Ulric's answer, Onalé quaffed the liquid.
Immediately after drinking, Onalé lost consciousness. After an indeterminable amount of time, awareness returned, although identity didn't. There was only a feeling of motion. Time passed, and the motion stopped. Something covered his lower part, and there was a sound, a voice, but no understanding of meaning. More time passed, and awareness expanded. He understood that he was a tree, although he couldn't put that understanding in words. After more time, words came, and with them thought. More time passed, spent in conversation with animals and birds, and something new appeared. It was familiar to him, similar to the one who planted him. The new one cut one of his limbs, and he let it do so because of that familiarity. The new one left, and some time later, the storms came. They raged for a certain time, and when they were over, the world was smaller, and broken. More time passed, and another one who was similar to the first 2 came, leading a herd of monkey- like animals. They tried to destroy him, but other monkey-things came to defend him. His monkey-things began to lose, so he gave them his own sap to drink, and they became stronger, and defeated the other monkey-things. Onalé awoke to the sound of glass shattering. After a moment of disorientation, he remembered where he was. The whole vision took less time then the bottle required to reach the floor.
Onalé took a step back and flinched as the bottle crashed. Standing there stunned, Onalé blinked. And then again. Onalé's eyes went from the floor up to Ulric's eyes. "I understand now."
Looking at Ulric, he could feel a certain familiarity that was not there earlier. He realized that he would recognize Ulric even in a crowd of thousands. "The Tree is now part of you. You would instantly recognize anyone who has partaken of the sap, and you may find that you're able to do other things as well. Welcome aboard Onalé, we're glad to have you with us."
"Yes, I see that now," Onalé said wide-eyed. The room felt more claustrophobic and artificial than before and a pang of homesickness came over Onalé. "I... thank you, wise Ulric. What task would you have me perform?"
"You are better suited to working alone then the rest of us, Onalé. What we need now is information. The Church has increased its activities during the past few months, its missioners and preachers are everywhere, and its agents have, for the first time in two centuries, attacked us openly in places other then the Tree itself. We need to know why, and interrogating Church agents isn't enough. What we'd like you to do, is consult the Oracle, and ask her about the Church's plans."
"And where is this Oracle?" Onalé asked.
"She lives in a cottage in a Realm that lies 600 miles veilwards of this place. We can provide you with a map showing the way."
Onalé nodded. "Then I shall set out as soon as your Seers deem it safe for me to return to the surface, or perhaps you have a secret way so that I can leave now?"
"The sewers lead out of the city. I can lead you to the exit."
"Very well," Onalé smiled. "Thank you again for your hospitality and all you have taught and shown me, master Ulric."
"You offer me more honor then I deserve, my friend. Please, call me simply Ulric." Ulric stands up, and leads Onalé down the stairs, and back into the sewers. After about half an hour, they reach the city's edge, exiting the sewers into a less then clean river. "Here is the map showing the way to the Oracle. You will pass through 2 Realms. One is a low tech, low magic, medieval Realm, the other is a part of the Empire of Ty'ador, and is a high magic, low-tech area. Good luck, my friend."
Onalé took Ulric's forearm. "Until we meet again, Ulric." With that, Onalé consulted the map one last time before tucking it away and heading out with spear in hand.
Walking veilwards alongside the highways, Onalé was the subject of many curios stares from passing cars. After walking for about half an hour, a truck stopped next to him, and a burly man wearing a checkered shirt and blue jeans asked him, "You look a little out of place here, buddy. Need a lift to the veil?"
"Thank you, sir," Onalé said, "but can you tell me how far it is to the veil?"
"About 300 clicks. A 3 hour drive."
"If that is all, I think I shall walk." Onalé was not in the mood to be cooped up in the cab of truck for three hours. Besides, given Onalé's unusual appearance in this realm, it was quite possible that the offer was a trap of some sort. Onalé chose instead to enjoy the outdoors and cleanse the spirit through walking. Even so, there was no reason to be rude. "It was kindly of you to offer, though. I wish you well on your journey."
"Suit yourself." The man shrugged, rolled up the window, and drove of.
After a week of walking, Onalé approached the veil separating this Realm from the next, a nondescript medieval kingdom. The asphalt road terminated at the border station, rather then crossing the veil, and a dirt road continued. Apparently, trade between the Realms took place here, where cars could reach. The guards eyed Onalé, and then turned back to their card game, obviously dismissing him as non threatening.
Onalé avoided eye contact with the guards, but tried not to make it too obvious. Onalé stepped onto the dirt road and smiled to be leaving the harsh, unnatural asphalt.
The first thing he felt after crossing the veil was the pounding rain on his face. It was hard to see anything in the clouded day, and the rain made things even worse. The dirt road leading inwards was nearly washed out, and it seemed as if the rain had been pouring for days, and showing no signs of letting up. The guards on this side huddled in their cabin near the fire, barely even glancing up as he passed.
Onalé's arm spread wide and he looked up into the sky. Though it was considerably cooler than Onalé's jungle blood was used to, Onalé enjoyed the feel of rain upon the skin. As he walked, Onalé felt a connection with the rain known only to the plant kingdom. But the moment past and Onalé's bare skin grew chill. Onalé hailed a covered wagon passing by.
The driver reined in his horses, and looked at Onalé from underneath a canvas sheet. "Where are you bound to, stranger? I don't normally give rides, but I'd hate to leave anyone in this downpour."
"I am but passing through this realm, so as far as you can take me is greatly appreciated," Onalé said while climbing inside. "Thank you, kink sir. I usually enjoy the rain, but this is a bit much," Onalé smiled.
"Well. I'm headed towards the city, to sell my turnips. I'd welcome a bit of company. Make yourself comfortable." The wagon plodded little faster then walking, and the farmer was very talkative, speaking of anything from the weather and his turnips to local politics.
Onalé listened politely while asking friendly questions regarding the social and political climate to gauge the possible dangers in this realm. When they reached the city, Onalé thanked the man again. "Though I must confess I have to available means with which I can show my gratitude."
"Oh, I enjoyed having someone to talk to except the horse. Your conversation is enough." The farmer clicked to his horse and headed to the marketplace. The city lay in the middle of the Realm, a typical medieval town. To his left was an inn, in front of him the road to the market, and in the middle of the town rose a castle, probably belonging to a local nobleman.
Onalé glanced at the inn, but did not even think of trying to find a room there. Currency was tricky business for anyone traveling between realms, more so for someone for whom the use of money was still new. Looking at the map that Ulric had provided, Onalé thought it would be good to stay in the town this night and travel on tomorrow. Onalé walked toward the marketplace to see what was there and perhaps earn a meal.
The market took place in the mane town square. Churned mud covered the square, and market stalls selling everything that could be used in the Realm, from farm products to high-tech manufactured tools and weaponry, brought from other Realms. Calls from sellers urged Onalé to buy something, anything from them.
Onalé wandered around the market, bewildered at the variety of goods and devices being sold. For several minutes, Onalé forgot the mission and just enjoyed the wonder of the place. It was not until several merchants called to Onalé as "Miss" and "Malady" that Onalé realized that she had changed. After making a silent curse for being careless, Onalé began to actively look for fellow guardians. Surely they would be a source of lodging, Onalé thought. Onalé headed toward an open area where entertainers performed for the market patrons.
As soon as she entered the open area, Onalé's eyes were drawn to a well-dressed woman in her mid 30s. There was nothing obviously different about her, but to Onalé's new senses she stood out in the crowd, and she knew her to be a Guardian. As she was looking over the crowd, however, Onalé felt a feather light touch in her pocket.
"Not that I have anything in there," Onalé said as she grabbed the perpetrator's wrist, "but I would appreciate it if you did not even attempt it." Onalé then turned and looked at the individual.
A child of about nine or ten looked up at her, saying in a pitiful voice, "Please milady, I haven't eaten anything in two days." Onalé noticed, however, that while the child was dirty, she was healthy and well fed.
With a straight face Onalé said, "Well then come, young one, and we shall catch ourselves a rat and you shall eat." Onalé lightly tossed the spear and grabbed it again so that the head pointed to the ground. Onalé then dragged the youth aside and searched for a rat or similar vermin scurrying about the edges of the marketplace, expecting the child to squirm away in protest.
"A rat? People don't eat rats. Lemme go." The little girl started to squirm, trying to escape Onalé's grip.
Onalé laughed as she let the girl slip away. "I guess you weren't that hungry." Actually, that was Onalé's backup plan for supper this evening. Onalé then looked around for the well-dressed woman.
She was busy looking at scarves at a nearby stall, picking up each one to feel the fabric and look at the colors.
Onalé approached the stall and reviewed the scarves. Picking up one of forest green, Onalé asked the woman beside her, "Do you think this matches my complexion?"
The woman turned to her, her widening eyes the only sign of surprise and recognition, and said, "I think your skin is a bit to dark for that color, dear. Maybe you should try something like this." She raised a dark blue scarf from the stall and handed it to Onalé.
"This does look very nice," Onalé cooed, draping it across her shoulder. "But I am afraid it beyond my means," Onalé sighed as she placed the scarf back down. "I have just newly arrived to this realm," Onalé explained to the merchant, "but these are lovely, sir."
The merchant looked annoyed at this waste of time, but remained polite so as not to annoy the woman, who might still buy something. The woman, however, turned further towards Onalé, and, with new interest in her voice, asked, "Newly arrived? We don't get many visitors here. There's not much to interest outsiders here. You must tell me of your travels. I've never been out-Realm myself," By this time, the merchant was getting really annoyed at the to women taking up space in front of his stall and talking, and he turned to the woman standing behind them, his body language clearly asking them to leave.
Onalé moved away from the stall to make room and to deter eavesdropping. "The realm before this one was steel and concrete, technology and electricity, but good smoothies." Onalé paused. "It is a drink with fruit and other wonderful things." Onalé made a stirring-a-cup motion with her hands. "I got in a bit of trouble, but I met a new friend and he helped me. I think you would recognize him. Anyway, I walked for several days to the realm's edge. Once here, I caught a turnip cart to the city. And here I am. Tomorrow I shall be off again on the final leg of this journey. Until a new one begins, that is." Onalé smiled.
"It sounds so fascinating! You must come over and tell me more! My name is Margaret." She offered Onalé her hand to shake.
"I am Onalé. Very nice to meet you, Margaret," Onalé said as they shook hands. "But you must also tell me of this realm, your home."
"The pleasure is mine. What say we exchange our stories over dinner?"
"I would be honored," Onalé smiled. "I must apologize for imposing upon you like this, fair Margaret, for what I said to the scarf merchant was true." Onalé bowed her head. "But I am indebted for your hospitality."
"Oh, the stories you tell me are thanks enough." Margaret`s house was a large, well-kept mansion at the outskirts of town. From what she told Onalé, the people of this town think of her as the widow of a successful merchant, and nothing more. On the way there, she told Onalé a little about the history of this Realm, Francia. When they entered her house, Margaret showed her to her study, closed the door, and said, "Now we can talk freely."
"I am on my way to see the Oracle," Onalé explained. "Beyond that, my story is as I described. Without knowing anyone in this realm, I saw you as a potential friend." Onalé smiled.
"The Oracle? Then it is lucky indeed that you found me. I may have a way to get you there sooner then you would by walking. I won't ask your business with the Oracle, but I would like to hear more of your travels. If you have any urgent questions, ask them, and if not, I suggest that we talk over dinner. If you want, I can arrange for a bath, if you want to wash the road off yourself."
"A bath would be most welcome," Onalé said.
Once the bath was drawn and Onalé was alone, Onalé transformed into snake form and slithered out of the dirty clothes and into the bath. It felt good to stretch and use the serpentine muscles again. Eventually, Onalé took male form and began washing. Once the bath was completed, Onalé assumed female form again.
An hour later, Margaret's maid came to ask if Onalé was ready for dinner. Dinner was served at Margaret's study, the food was simple, but tasty and there was enough of it to satisfy Onalé's hunger. After the main course, Margaret asked Onalé to tell her a bit of her travels.
Onalé obliged her host with a retelling of the past few realms, and especially the last one and the chase into the sewers and finding Ulric. Onalé avoids telling the story of the Jaguar. "And so my journeys have just begun really."
Margaret listened to Onalé tale with rapt attention, fascinated by the many diverse Realms she had traveled. By the time the tale was finished, so was desert, and Margaret ordered the remains of dinner off the table, and retired with Onalé to a more private room, "To talk business" as she put it. Pouring herself a glass of martini, Margaret asked Onalé, "What would you like to drink?"
Onalé replied, "I think I shall try something new. What is that you are making? I shall have one." After receiving the drink, Onalé said, "You have a very lovely home."
"Thank you. My husband had it built before we were married. I was just a silly little girl then, and easily impressed. Sometimes I look back, and can't believe how lucky I was that he was a good man. I joined the Guardians only after he died."
"And yet you have never left this realm?" Onalé found that odd, but then it was almost unheard of that the Anguanyé would leave their home. "Please, tell me more of the Guardians and your role in it. I have yet to find my role, and thus I seek the Oracle."
"Well, my husband died when I was still young, and afterwards, I was a young widow with plenty of money and time on my hands, so I did the most natural thing there is: I got myself a lover. He was a Guardian, younger than I, and full of passion, and he convinced me to join too. It gave me a purpose in life, and when his cause took him away from this Realm, I remained a here. My main role as a Guardian is one of finance. I have a sense for business, and I learned a lot from my husband, and I give most of what I earn to the Guardians." Margaret finished her martini and placed the glass on the table next to her. "Your will probably be a more active role, but it is for you to decide what exactly it would be."
"Most of my people do not travel outside our realm either. Most tribes are self-sufficient and need not trade with others, so my knowledge of finances is rather limited," Onalé admitted. "Do you have much problems with Inquisitors and the Church in this realm? I am afraid my last experience has left me paranoid."
"Well, the Inquisitors don't bother us much. Their not interested in Guardians and in the Tree. If you had experience with them, then you probably have something else that attracts them. Personally, I've never seen one, and there's nothing pulling them to Francia. The rest of the Church has been getting more active in the past months, but since no one knows of my connection, they don't bother me much, and there's no other Guardian in residence here."
"This is why," Onalé said while changing to male form, "or so it would seem." Onalé's voice was now deeper and masculine. "I hope this does not alarm you." Onalé smiled warmly.
Margaret's eyes widened in surprise, but she did not seem alarmed. "Not at all, but you should change back before someone sees us alone, to prevent rumors of shape changing witches."
Onalé frowned and slid back into female form. "Such reactions seem to be commonplace."
"Of course they are. The Inquisitors have been spreading them for decades. Is there anything else you'd like to know? If not, then I suggest you sleep here, and tomorrow I can help get you closer to your goal."
"No," Onalé sighed, "You have been most gracious and helpful." Onalé then retired for the evening.
The light and warmth on her face woke Onalé in the morning.
Onalé stood up, stretched, and got dressed. A strange pang of loneliness had been building up and when it hit, Onalé slumped onto the bed with head in hands. After a few quiet moments, Onalé's resolve strengthened and Onalé went downstairs looking for Margaret.
Margaret was already up, and Onalé found her in the dining room. "Good morning, Onalé. Your just in time for breakfast."
"Good morning, Margaret," Onalé said. "I slept much later than I intended. Thank you again for allowing me to stay as your guest in your home. You are a good friend." Onalé sat down at the table and broke her fast.
"It was a pleasure to have someone to talk to, and to help a fellow Guardian." After breakfast, Margaret stood up, and walked to one of the walls. After pushing aside a landscape painting, then opened a small safe, and took out a small bundle wrapped in dark blue velvet. "This was a gift from someone who owed the Guardians a favor. It may help you reach your destination earlier."
Onalé took the bundle and then hugged Margaret warmly, their cheeks touching. "Until we meet again my friend." Onalé pulled away and asked, "Should I open this now or once I am on the road?"
"It matters not, really, but it would be best if you are seen leaving the house, otherwise the issue of witchcraft will arise among my superstitious servants."
"Than I shall be off," Onalé said. With bundle and spear in hand, Onalé left the mansion. As she approached the main road, Onalé carefully opened the bundle.
The bundle contained a card-sized painting of a forest clearing, and a small letter. Painting was so realistic, that Onalé could almost hear the forest sounds and smell the forest smells. On the other side, was a painting of a unicorn rampant. On the letter was written in a neat handwriting "Look at the picture in the Trump and concentrate on it. When the picture becomes solid, step forward." It was signed by an unreadable name.
"Hmm," Onalé pondered. Not wishing to get Margaret accused of associating with witchcraft, Onalé walked off the road and headed into the woods. After a few minutes, sure that no one could see, Onalé did as the letter instructed.
As Onalé gazed at the picture, it seemed to slowly become even more lifelike then before. Within half a minute, She could actually see the branches of trees move and hear the chirping of birds. The picture seemed to expand while at the same time remaining the same size. Quickly it took on a third dimension, and by the time a full minute passed, the clearing looked as real as the woods she knew herself to be in.
Nerves and excitement caused Onalé to hold her breath as she stepped forward into the clearing.
The woods behind her vanished, and Onalé found herself in the forest clearing depicted in the Trump. Her new senses told her this forest was far away from Francia.
Onalé paused for a moment and looked at the card again before putting it back in the bundle and slipping it into her pocket. Onalé placed his palm on a nearby tree trunk and said, "I am Onalé and I seek the Oracle." He listened for a moment. With a sigh, Onalé chose a direction and began walking.
© 2003 Patrick Riley and Tamir Buchshtav
Labels: Character
(pronounced roughly MERTSANIE, mir-SAN-yeh but spelled in roman characters "mercanie") but this probably would not go over very well with the English-speaking (and French-speaking, given that she lives in Canada) press. The word comes from "glimmer" (as in a star).