"Ch 1 The Circle of Ice & Fire" by Alice Muffin Girl Smith

Written by Alice "Muffin Girl" Smith

Chapter finished Friday, November 22, 2002

=^.^=

"Where do you think it threw us out?" I asked, nudging a small rock on the ground with my toe. It flipped over, and I noted its composition was that of a red ore. Iron, probably. One could never be certain on a Circle world, however.

"Somewhere in the G sector would be my bet." Cutter commented, gazing around. The forest was deep. I couldn’t identify most of the trees, but several of them nearly resembled earthen-born varieties. The air was hot but not humid; something I found odd considering the dampness of the ground, and the coolness I felt through my boots.

"Why do you say that?" I questioned, bending my knees to examine a small fungal growth more closely. It was white with faint blue spots.

"Hunch," he replied with a shrug. I grunted in acceptance; Cutter’s hunches tended to be correct nine out of ten times in the years we had been partners.

"You’re identifying this planet’s sector by a hunch?" The kid moaned in disbelief. Rookies, I thought with disgust, they shouldn’t be allowed off Earth. Not without getting a few of the tamed Circles under their belts, at least. The kid was fresh from the blender, so to speak, and this was his first time on a Circle. The only thing he knew was the crap his training commander had fed him. He’d learn, soon enough, that hunches, guts, tickles, and all means of unsophisticated witchcraft were the only way to survive off of Earth. Or, I corrected myself as I poked at the fungal growth with a small stick, he’d die on this Circle. "Fine then, just ignore the rookie," the squirt said moodily, kicking his foot against a large rock. The circle we had traveled through closed with a SNAP, and the twerp jumped visibly. "What was that?" He questioned of the world at large, looking around with bugged eyes. Cutter looked at me, and we came to a mutual decision. Teach this kid the hard way, was the message carried by our amused smirks. Time to have us some fun, was the decision.

"Big foot," I nonchalantly stated, studying the fungus intensely.

"What?" The kid yelped. Cutter had his back to me, but I could tell by the set of his shoulders that he was suppressing his laughter. In the minds of veterans like us, rookies equaled fresh meat. "You can’t be serious." He looked about anxiously.

"Hmm… the patterns on this rock face are indicative of a large animal species." Cutter said pleasantly, bending over to supposedly examine a rock face.

"Stop trying to freak me out." The sprout tittered nervously.

"This ground is at the perfect level of dampness to accurately retain prints." I muttered just loudly enough to be clearly heard. "Check this out, Cutter," I smiled, my back to the kid. Cutter walked over to me, and we admired Cutter’s footprint impressed in the damp soil. He whistled appreciatively.

"That is a big print. Wonder what could have made that?" He looked around warily as if he expected that something to emerge at any given second.

"Oh, com’on, guys. Stop pullin’ my leg." The kid sounded very nervous. Rookies were such fun. This was the initiation ritual, given to each successive generation of Circle Scouts solely because it had been done to the generation preceding them and said proceeding generation wanted to play their card in the game. The timeless tradition of Freaking Out The New Guy was a game that would never grow old. This was my first chance at it, since I had been a rookie myself these past years. Cutter and his partner had screwed with my brain so bad my first day off Earth that I had been afraid to sleep for a week afterward. Compared to that, we were going easy on the kid.

"Did you hear that?" Cutter asked suddenly. I still had my back to the kid, but I kept my face admirably emotionless just in case.

"Yeah." I said, looking up, my head cocked.

"Knock it off!" The squirt exclaimed.

"I’m not playing around, I hear something," Cutter circled the area we had come out in, looking for all the world as if he was listening to something. "What the hell is that?" He muttered softly. I looked at him, confused. When Cutter swore, it meant that he was serious. He had heard something. What? I cocked my head, putting the forefinger of my right hand to my lips to signal the kid’s silence.

"Seriously, guys-" The nuisance began.

"Quiet, I say!" Cutter hissed. The kid looked like he was about to pee his pants. With his silence I could hear it, too. It was a faint beat carrying in the ground, a drumming in the earth itself. And another noise overlapping it; someone running. The kid’s eyes bugged, and I knew he was hearing it now. I had a sinking feeling that the two earthbound melodies were coming this way. That was just how my luck ran.

The next few moments have since become permanent members of Mather’s Fine Hall of Most Interesting Beginnings.

"Com’on!" A woman screamed. "Follow me!" She was close, and without further ado she ran into our viewing. She was my age; somewhere in her early twenties. She wore clothing made of some kind of tan skin, and a cape of brilliant red feathers. Her hair was red, made even more stunning by the accent that the cape provided, and by the added highlight of two golden feathers tied to a thin braided strand of her hair. When she saw us she tried to stop, but her momentum still caused her to knock into me, bowling us both over. With a speed I had nothing but respect for (albeit a sort of grumbling, resentful respect), she was back on her feet. "Run, you idiots!" She commanded us, pulling me to my feet and nearly dislocating my shoulder. "The Rockies are on the warpath!" She began to run again, pulling me along at a fast clip via the death grip she had on my arm. Cutter chased after, not certain of what we had stumbled into. The kid seemed frozen in place with terror. Maybe Freakin’ Out The New Guy hadn’t been such a hot idea, in retrospect...

"Move, kid!" Cutter ordered. The girl looked back in horror, releasing my hand. The ground seemed to carry a heartbeat, now; whatever was causing it was apparently a little close for comfort. The woman turned in a sort of skittering motion, nearly falling from her forward momentum. She used both of her hands to stabilize herself and ran a few steps doggy style. Drawing a thin sword from somewhere beneath her fiery cape, she aimed her steps for the kid. Cutter and I turned back, not precisely liking what was going on here. The kid was shaking where he stood, but I couldn’t be sure of whether it was from fear or from the earth’s tremors.

The ground heaved, exploding in front of his eyes. Waves of earth rolled from the force, unceremoniously setting Cutter and me back on the ground. The girl stayed to her feet with the natural grace of a cat, fairly dancing her way up to the crest of a wave near their source. She raised her sword high above her head, switching her grip so the blade curved down towards the earth as she took a running leap. The kid had fallen with the rest of us, and it looked to me like she was about to strike him where he lay. But even as she descended, something emerged from the crater that had been formed by the explosion. It was huge; nearly thirty feet from what my severely traumatized mind registered. It looked like a segmented worm, carved from jagged bedrock. It reared upwards like a sadistic dolphin, arching back down again straight at the kid. The girl landed on its back, expertly driving her silvery blade into the crevasse between two of its body segments. It bellowed from the pain and rolled, averting its attack on the kid. The girl kicked off from its side, freeing her sword. The force of its movement was too much for even her to handle, though, and she landed square in the path of its roll. Her mad four-legged scramble narrowly avoided her imminent crushing, and with an almost gleeful expression she stabbed backwards, lodging her small blade in between the segments once more. The creature bucked back in anger, turning its beaked head upon her. She jumped high as it pulverized the ground she’d stood upon. She landed on its head, sinking her blade into the center most of its three green eyes in a most professional manner. It tossed her off with a desperate screech, and she landed hard with a squeak. Whether of pain or simply disbelief that her arrogance had failed her was anyone’s guess. The creature’s beak, this time, found her leg as she attempted to roll out of its reach. Recovering from my initial shock, I was greeted by the urge to commit suicide.

"Hey, over here!" I screamed, waving my arms and jumping. The creature froze, and I saw its two good eyes turn towards me in that slow, methodical way common among giant worm monsters. With a low-throated growl, it dropped the girl to the ground and made for me. I figured running like the sissy man I was would be a good course of action just then. Cutter, ever the showoff when the monster was chasing someone else, headed back towards the kid and the girl. Stupid, stupid, stupid! I told myself helpfully as my long legs nibbled at the soft ground. A quick glance behind showed that the creature was much faster at momentary movements than at a dead run, for it was falling behind me. Apparently deciding I was too scrawny for all this effort, it reared up and dove back under the ground. The wave of its passing was visible for a second, and then it disappeared as the creature went even farther below the surface. The sound of its movements disappeared, as well. I could still feel it below my feet, that same steady pulsing, but it seemed to be moving away. Had it given up? I wondered. Another noise greeted my ears. Great. What now?

Something large, white, and fluffy dodged past me at such a speed that it appeared a big snowy blur. Honestly, must everything on this Circle be large and fast? I was about to run back in Cutter’s direction, the direction that the speeding snowflake had gone, but another of the whites passed me. And another, and another. The fifth one slowed just after it passed me, and turned about with high, meaningful steps. I took an inadvertent step backwards as a humid breath was panted on my face from a mouth with one too many pearly whites. It resembled a large husky dog of purest white. Its fur streamed in long waves as it huffed in air greedily, intelligent black eyes peering down quizzically from a shoulder height of ten feet. It took me a long second to realize that a man was perched atop its back. He was clothed as the girl was, and looked to be tops of twenty-seven years old. His hair was black, and I thought he would have been tall if he'd been standing. He regarded me for a moment, looking me up and down with a raised eyebrow. I dimly noted that both man and dog had the same nonchalant, tired air about them.

"I’ll give you a lift." He finally declared. The dog walked over to me and graciously lay down. He offered me a hand up, for the dog was darn close to five feet even as it docilely lay there. Which meant I currently laid claim to three more inches than the mutt. Yippee for me. I accepted the offered hand hesitantly, and he pulled me up to a spot behind him on the dog’s back. It would have been more reassuring if he’d seemed to use any muscle in the effort of swinging me up. As soon as I’d been so effortlessly shown to my seat, the dog stood again and began to walk towards Cutter, the same way the man’s friends had gone. The movement, thankfully slower than it had been going before, was still faster than a man could run. I gripped its understandably wind blown fur in my hands to keep from falling. My desperate fingers clawed their way through the heavy silk to the kitten fluff beneath. It was the softest thing I’d ever touched, but I nearly let it go in disgust. There’s something about sweaty animal fur that has never appealed to my senses. The man was employing the same technique of pitiful clinging, so I assumed that it was the correct way to ‘ride.’ We arrived at the spot where Cutter and the kid were quickly, to the relief and horror of my poor stomach. They stood to the side, being thoroughly ignored by the four men and their breathlessly sedate animals. The man dismounted the dog in a fluid leap, joining his friends. They moved so that he could see the girl. By the look that had overshadowed his face, I think their options were Move or Be Unceremoniously Moved. Miss Heroics lay on the ground, her eyes squeezed shut from pain. Her leg appeared to be broken, and a bit too much blood was coming from the deep trench the worm’s beak had dug to be good for her health. The dog lay down, and I slid off of it without regret. It rose again, and made a lurching move as if to join its Master. The man that had offered me a lift turned it away with a glare. It bowed its head regally, and stumbled over to submissively sit next to its four companions. They, like it, leaned forward towards the men, making plain their desire to approach them. I walked over to Cutter and the kid, one eye trained on this strange stage.

"How do you like the Circle worlds so far, squirt?" I asked softly, with mock cheerfulness. The kid looked to me as if he was about to be sick all over the front of my black uniform. Cutter was staring down at the ground. He was a fearless man who had saved my skin many a time, but the sight of blood made him sick to his iron-clad stomach. He was as pale as the kid, and I doubted that I looked much better.

"Where are those bleeding Flame Birds?" One of the men growled, peering skywards. The man I had ridden with had taken off his feathered cape, and was using it to apply pressure to the woman’s wound. The third man had taken the age-old solution of anxious pacing. A fourth man had walked over to his dog, and was making gently reassuring noises to it. The last of the men was looking at us with faint suspicion, his head cocked to one side. The kid looked very freaked. Even for the kid. And I, I must admit, didn’t know quite what to do. It was a rather awkward situation. It was our fault, after all, that the woman had been injured. My fault.

A loud squawking noise emanated from the previously harmless sky, and I looked up sharply to see what new joy this world was about to quite literally drop upon our heads. With a great air of showmanship, five large birds descended. They reminded me of flamingoes, for their necks and legs were elongated to make a giraffe proud. They were graceful in their movements, which I found odd since they were all about seven feet tall and just about the most awkward looking things I’d ever seen. Their wingspans were a good twelve feet. They, I figured, were the source of the feathered capes, since their powerfully built bodies were covered in a multitude of red and golden hues, with black on their necks and tail tips. Four of the five had riders, dressed as the men were. They were women, though. Hey, this situation was lookin’ better already. The birds landed gracefully, and the riderless one hopped quickly over to the girl. It sat down beside her, and emitted a mournful trilling noise. The dog that I had ridden responded back with an oddly voiced growl, practically knocking over its nearest companion in its haste to stand. Its rider looked to it, and nodded grimly. It came over to the girl. For a moment it gazed down at her injury, tilting its head from side to side as if examining the damage with its warm black eyes. With a tenderness that belied its size, the dog gently bit her leg just above the wounded site. Immediately the leg lost all color, turning the white of old death. It spread rapidly, threatening to cover the whole of her body in a heartbeat. With a faint coo, the bird elegantly laid its head across her chest. The loss of color ceased instantaneously, and actually began to reverse by slow degrees. The girl drew in a sharp breath, and the man squatted down and offered his hand to her. Big mistake on his part. She squeezed it 'til he grit his teeth from the pain. The dog released her leg after a moment more, its eyes somehow carrying a self-satisfied gleam. It gave a sharp bark once it was up, cueing the bird to lift its head. The girl opened her eyes, and took in a deep breath. I idly glanced at my watch. Nine minutes, forty-eight seconds since we’d stepped off of Earth. We had to be breaking some record here; I just knew it.

"You okay?" The man questioned, helping her to her feet with his right hand while he shook his left in a simpering attempt to restore the blood flow.

"Let’s not do that again, please." She requested simply, testing her newly freeze-dried leg uncertainly. Not entirely happy with the result (or trying to reward her boyfriend for the selfless sacrifice of his fingers) she leaned against the man for support. I looked at her wound curiously. It still retained the pale color from the moment before, but it had stopped bleeding and it didn’t seem to cause her any particular pain. I'm sure her boyfriend would have that fact in mind during the amputation of his gangrenous fingers. She looked at me, and smiled warmly. "Thanks for running decoy back there."

"It was nothing." I replied modestly, wondering what had just happened. This was an odd Circle we had ended up on, that much was certain. She turned back to the man.

"Did my distraction help any?" She questioned.

"We got everyone else out." He nodded, hiding his pained wince of the moment before behind a pleasant gentlemanly smile, much as he hid his reddened hand behind his back. The bird walked over to her, and rested its head on her shoulder like an affectionate dog would do to its master’s knee.

"Head back to the city, Shari." The eldest of the women instructed firmly. The girl looked at her, her eyes bright with protest. The two of them locked gazes, and she sullenly bowed her head. Not her eyes, though. They stayed on target 'til cascading red bangs hid them from view.

"Yes, ma’am." She demurely exhaled. Her bird knelt down, and she seated herself on its back so that her legs were just in front of its wings and her arms clasped about its neck. It looked horribly uncomfortable for the poor bird, but the creature didn’t seem to mind in the least.

"You too, Dean." One of the men added, almost as an afterthought. The man who had given me a ride looked at him in surprise.

"But-" He began to protest, his hands stretching out in a flat-palmed gesture before the belated realization that his left was on strike hit home on his face. One of the dogs barked sharply; I figured that this was the other man’s. The man who had given me a ride muttered something under his breath, before mounting his dog in a fluid leap, not bothering to wait for it to lie down. He turned it around, in the direction from which they had raced. The woman’s bird mirrored this, taking up a low flight above the dogs position, and above the trees. That was a rather tricky take-off, for something with a twelve-foot wingspan. The dog began to trot with its aerial accompaniment keeping pace, the both of them at a pace my mind couldn’t easily digest. I greatly wondered how anyone could retain their grip at such a speed. The man and the woman who had voiced the ill-received orders nodded to the others in their group and the three other birds and dogs set off in the opposite direction. The remaining pair regarded Cutter, the kid, and I. Cutter looked back inquisitively, the kid looked like he was about to ralph. I gave a small wave. Frankly, I was already getting weary of this world. The danger and life-threatening situations weren’t supposed to happen 'til after the introductions. Right now, the first day here, we were supposed to be treated like gods. This world had yet to show any advanced weaponry or transportation, and it had large dangerous animals on the loose to boot. It was less advanced than most Circle worlds and definitely lower down on the pecking order than Earth, so we should have been welcomed with open arms.

At least, that was what everyone kept telling me–I wondered, when would I end up on a Circle like that?

"What’s your purpose here?" The woman asked aggressively.

"We are ambassadors from the Heavens; we come from a region known as Earth," Cutter said smoothly, delivering one of the standard greetings we give to Circle worlds of a less advanced nature than ourselves.

"Earth?" The woman questioned suspiciously, tilting her head. "Haven’t heard of it."

"That is only natural, for my people have never come to your land before." He spoke flawlessly, omitting the minor fact that this place had been on our charts for years. This was just the first that anyone had gotten around to seriously visiting the place, is all.

"Earth, yes. I'm certain I've heard of it. It's right next to the Cathedral of Life, isn't it? Tell me, can the clouds really be walked on?" The woman asked with the most elaborate bout of contemplative chin-tapping I'd ever seen.

"Hmph." The man grunted, looking at the woman with one eyebrow raised. "You’re so friendly today. I do hope you don’t wear yourself out." He gave a smile for the angry cat noise that escaped her, and turned his attention to us. "Just ignore my wife; she has had a long day which has not served much to improve her usual demeanor. You were saying?" The woman kicked his shin hard, and he winced slightly. I had to say this was an interesting greeting to receive. According to Crew and the other senior Scouts back home, this was the point by which inhabitants should be prostrated at your feet, and religions budding in your honor. But then again, maybe it’s just hard to respect three men in their twenties. Especially when one of them is a fair shade of green.

"As ambassadors for Earth, we would wish to develop trade agreements with your people." Cutter continued.

"That sentence is open to interpretation." The woman muttered beneath her breath. I decided that I liked her. After all, I had been protesting to Cutter since the beginning that sooner or later someone would pick up on the wording we used. Lying was forbidden, because there was the off-chance of hitting a world where people were walking lie-detectors. I've got a theory about lie-detectors, though; if everything about you is a polished mistruth, then a little black lie would pass under the radar pretty darn easy. It's not like our current wording system doesn't raise a few like-minded eyebrows on occasion. Of course, I’d never be able to trust this woman now: the ones who pick up on the wording are the ones who use it themselves.

I don’t think Cutter heard her.

"Where, exactly, are you from?" The man questioned, cocking his head. "That you would wish to barter with the Third City? I truly don’t know what we have that any others would want."

"You’d be surprised," Cutter said simply. As he and the man began discussing the various tradable items in the ‘Third City,’ I studied the animals. I was, after all, a semi-biologist. Semi, in that I had taken enough classes on it to get stamped by the military as being knowledgeable. As far as my college was concerned, I was a part-time student with limited ambitions and a slim chance of getting a degree in the next ten years, if I stopped withdrawing from classes without notice. Is it my fault missions get plopped on my lap in the middle of finals? But the animals. Yes, the gigantic animals.

Obviously, they were a mode of transportation on this Circle. I wondered how much the man had paid to get his dog, to have it be so well trained. It sat placidly, its eyes never leaving its Master. It didn’t even move, except for its endlessly midnight eyes. The bird, on the other hand, must have been cheap surplus stock. It twitched and hopped, stretching its wings and beating them as if it wished to fly. It even went so far as to leap a few feet into the air, and managed to hover for a few moments by rapidly beating its expansive wings. If not for its temperament, it would have been quite elegant. Not unlike the woman, I thought, noticing that she was watching me. I smiled at her and, eyes flashing, she made as if to be paying attention to the conversation of her husband and Cutter. I forced my mind to stop its train of thought as soon as it reached ‘I wonder if she has a sister...’ Turning my full attention back to the animals, I wondered how these people had ever managed to domesticate such giant creatures. I also wondered what other species called this charming land home. Thoughts of the food chain were dwelling uneasily in my mind. But hey, I was going to find out soon enough.

The kid yawned loudly. Cutter followed suit. I locked my jaw to prevent my own addition to the chorus–I was not a follower. This is what I thought as I followed behind Ken, Jen, Cutter, and the kid. And the dog and the bird. Okay, I’m a liar. So sue me.

We had been walking for a few hours now. Frankly, I was starting to wonder if the couple had caught onto our true motives here and were having some sadistic fun with us before revealing their knowledge and sicing the giant husky dog on us. Ken was, by the way, the man who stayed behind to chit-chat. Jen was his ever-pleasant wife. She seemed to be making a point of avoiding me. Not Cutter or the kid–just me. I don’t think she cared for that harmless little smile earlier.

Which is why I was so surprised when she dropped back to speak with me in private.

"So what’s your name, Ambassador?" A small smile played across her lips at that title. I definitely didn’t trust this broad.

"Mather." I replied.

"What, no last name?" She protested, that small smile flickering in and out of existence.

"That is my last name." I bluntly informed her.

"What, no first name?" This little hen was up to no good.

"I don’t give out my first name." It was bad enough my parents had named me Percy; it was worse if people knew.

"Is that an Earth tradition, Percy?" She sweetly inquired. I nearly fell flat on my face.

"What-?" My expression must have been priceless just then. She draped her arm over my shoulders. Best buds, oh boy, that was us all of a sudden. A little too suddenly for my tastes, thank you very much ma’am.

"Welcome to East City." She proclaimed, elaborately gesturing with her free arm. The next step I took abruptly carried me from the forest to a house-lined street. I gawked helplessly. Hello, my name is Percy, and I am confused. I glanced back over my shoulder. The forest was there, but strangely dark in appearance. Cutter and the kid looked as helplessly dumb as I did. Move over, misery!–dumbfounded Earthlings who have just realized how out-of-their-league they are love company.

"What-?" I repeated, the left corner of my mouth twitching as it is prone to do when the world turns upside down.

"That’s the Binding Shield." Ken helpfully informed me as he noticed my gaze.

"The Binding Shield. It protects the city from the Rockies." Jen nodded her head smugly. "Surprised, Percy?"

"How do you know my name?" I practically squeaked. If there’s something sadder than a grown man squeaking, I have yet to encounter it.

"Didn’t I tell you?" Ken asked, sounding perfectly innocent despite his scheming wife.

"You didn’t, dear." Jen oozed sweetness. It was just a smile, I protested silently, you don’t have to have it in for me over one innocent little smile. "Flame Birds can read minds, Percy." She pleasantly informed me. "And Flame Riders can read the minds of their Flame Birds." Oh, helpful bit of information–the giant birds are apparently called Flame Birds, and the woman who ride them are Flame Riders. The dogs are Ice Dogs, and the men who ride them are Ice Riders. Go figure.

"Oh," I squeaked. With my voice acting like it was, you’d swear I was going through puberty. My mind went back to my thoughts since I had met dear Jen the rude hen… And all of the sudden I knew why she had it in for me. It wasn’t the smile, but rather the train of thought that had started as ‘Nice butt’ and had… gone from there. Oops. "Sorry?" I volunteered. But you do have a fine fanny, I couldn’t help but add. Her draped arm suddenly became a headlock. Hey, what to you expect? I'm not used to the thought police.

"I think your visit is going to prove interesting, Percy," she whispered in my ear before releasing me. "But do stop thinking of my ‘fine fanny,’ won’t you?"

"Sure thing." Just dandy. Now I couldn’t think of anything but her rear-end… I abruptly decided that I didn’t like this world. Giant mind reading flamingoes and their mind reading hens have never been on my guest lists at parties, and I didn’t much appreciate them here, either. She had such a nice butt! Best I’d ever had the pleasure to walk behind for hours on end.

"Percy?" The kid laughed. "Your first name is Percy? Ha ha ha!"

"What’s so funny about Percy?" Ken asked. I was really starting to wonder about his innocence. But then again, he might just have been a little slow. Who was I to make fun of the possibly handicapped? The kid stopped laughing.

"I don’t know…" He muttered. "It’s just one of those words. Like ‘applesauce.’"

"Thanks." I smiled sarcastically. So I'm on a level with applesauce, huh? Thanks a ton, kid. Hugs and kisses. I noticed Jen out of the corner of my eye, and the next thought rose of its own will. Caboose of a God! The Flame Bird emitted an odd little squeak, hopping close to me with a flourish of its wings. "Sorry!" Chuga-chuga choo-choo! It pecked me on the shoulder. Lightly, but certainly not in a friendly matter.

"Dear, control your bird." Ken instructed her mildly, drawing her attention away from me. How could any man stand being married to such a… The thought trailed off as her cape fluttered, giving me a nice rear view. Understanding dawned in my little world. "Right this way." Ken told us, staring at me curiously. We started walking again, and he dropped back to speak with me.

"Her butt?" He questioned.

"Err…" I did my best to look innocent. "Sorry?" I volunteered.

"Don’t worry–she gets that a lot." He grinned lewdly, and walked up to join his indignant wife.

^*^*^

I did my best not to gawk. And failed. Ditto for the kid. Cutter succeeded–you could definitely tell who the senior officer was in this group. Jen grinned smugly at my wonderful expression of utter awe. For once, though, I didn’t start thinking of her anatomy upon noticing her gaze. Ken paused in his step, looking back at us.

"Is something wrong?" He inquired. Boy, was I getting sick of him sounding so innocent all the time. That just had to be an act. No self-respecting adult was that innocent.

The architecture in East City left something to the imagination. The streets were arranged in uncreative squares, with no street signs. The buildings were carbon copies of one another, with only the signs out front to distinguish on from the other. They were all just two-story boxes. Casual observation had caused me to deduce that the lower floors generally were stores while the uppers were homes. The paint job was kind of interesting, though. The first buildings had been black, but the further in we walked the lighter and more vibrant they became. Like a sunrise. But this–I stared up at what was apparently our final destination–was just amazing. It looked something like one of those castles in fairy tales. The one prince charming whisked his beautiful princess away to on the same page it read ‘...and they lived happily ever after.’ Frankly, I wasn’t sure how tall it was. Looking up, I thought I saw clouds hovering around its towers. Four towers, by the way, marking off the four points of the compass if my suspicions were correct. It was ringed by a high wall, atop of which a multitude of Flame Birds were perched, casually observing the ground below as they preened themselves. The castle and wall were made of some kind of crystal that caught the light of the sunset in the west and held it inside of themselves.

"Pretty," I finally replied. I’m one of those people that are always really witty, in case you haven’t noticed. We starting walking again. As we passed under the archway in the wall, Jen’s Flame Bird left to join its kin.

The inner courtyard was as wide as a football field around the whole of the castle that I could see, and utterly deserted. I looked down and stared at my face. Huh? I did a double take. The ground was covered… with a mirror. I could see no seams. The head of an Ice Dog abruptly loomed over my own image, and I spun around. There was nothing there.

"Do you see something in the Ice?" Ken asked, just as innocent as ever. I looked back down, and was confronted with the image of the giant worm from earlier. Its back passed under my feet, heading for the castle. Its two good eyes were strangely content even though its center eye trailed blood in its wake.

"Yeah," I replied. Understatement of the year. Ken smiled at me.

"It is said that the Ice is a mirror to the world of the fallen." He informed me.

"How does it work?" Cutter asked, staring down at it. I did likewise, and found the Ice Dog staring over my shoulder again. It cocked its head at me, and I saw its blue eyes were misted over. It was blind. Or would be if it weren’t a product of my over-active imagination, I corrected myself.

"That is a good question," Ken replied simply, walking on. As I followed the dog trotted at my side, keeping pace with me even though its speed in real life would have been phenomenal.

"I don’t see anything," the kid muttered under his breath.

"That’s because your name isn’t Percy." Cutter whispered back in all seriousness. The kid laughed outright. I decided to kill them both later, in the most horrible way I could find. It wasn’t my fault the papers to legally change my name had been tied up for about a million years due to military mumbo-jumbo. Apparently an officer wasn’t allowed to just suddenly change his name, if you can believe it.

As the castle loomed higher in front of us, my mind scrambled to process how these Circle Savages had created such a structure. The crystalline walls of the palace were without seam, rising from the mirror at my feet like the splash of some colossal fish, frozen in time. There was no beginning, and no end… Looking up, I couldn’t find an end to the height of the towers, even though the sky was clear and lacking the haze of smog that covered Earth. It was frightening, almost. I’d been to about a hundred Circles since my first step off Earth, but this was the first time I’d ever felt so… insignificant. It was like looking at the sun. You could tell it had been there for a span of time you couldn’t even imagine, and you knew your own life span wouldn’t even register to the millionth decimal in comparison to its. In the face of that, you felt both meaningless and non-substantial at the same time. As I looked up at that towering, flowing, majestic piece of artwork, I realized that no human hand had played a role in its construction. No human could dream of such a thing… but it had been built, the precise details of its spires and walkways, windows, and engravings–for there were images lacing its length, too large for my vision to grasp what they formed--certainly hadn't formed naturally. How the…?

"What’s wrong, Mather–this your first Circle?" Cutter casually questioned. Brought back to earth, so to speak, I realized that everyone had already entered through the glided metal doors. Cutter stood against one, his wide shoulders holding the large construct open. Just the one side was tall and wide enough to let in two of the Ice Dogs with room to spare. I could see Ken’s Dog in the interior, staring back at me curiously. A glance at my feet revealed the phantom Dog still trailing at my heels. I flushed a pretty shade and rejoined Cutter’s company.

The inside of the palace would have been impressive… But it was somehow disappointing after such a grand introduction. The floor was the same as it had been outside, and the walls rose up in gentle slopes from the floor, giving me the distinct impression that I was in one of those hamster balls. The ones that they’d run around in when some kid was cleaning out their cage. Here and there the walls were engraved with images of the Ice Dogs, Flame Birds, Rockies, and about a hundred and one species I couldn’t even begin to imagine were real. Except they weren’t engraved… As I watched, they moved and turned, twisted and sprang to life. My blind phantom dog joined their ranks, and he and a few others ran in playful circles across the room. Walls, floor, and ceiling. It was really quite disorienting. After a few seconds of watching them, I started to think that if gravity hadn’t been holding me fast to the floor, I’d not have known up from down… Or left from right, for that matter. Birds rustled their wings, serenely watching from the walls as they had done on the high wall outside as we’d entered. A small blue creature, quite like a fox, danced about under my feet for a moment before dashing off to wherever these delusions went. Perhaps there was some sort of hallucinogenic drug in the air?

The room we had entered into was large. I thought it spanned the entire first floor of the tower, which had to be impossible. The ceiling was a good twenty feet up, if not more. The mirror effect made it impossible to judge the dimensions of the palace accurately. Not a single pillar graced the entire place; it was held up entirely by the walls. Now I was no architect… But I had a feeling that that wasn’t a very rational way to build a structure like this one.

"What’s a matter, Mather–trying to remember the number of a good interior decorator?" Cutter muttered. I flushed again, and hastily caught up.

"This is the Eastern Cathedral," Ken explained as he led us down the length of the impossible room. I looked around, and made an interesting observation.

"No stairs," I informed Cutter quietly. He nodded. The kid looked up at us questioningly. Give me a break, I thought, don’t you even know what that implies?

"This place has other levels. But no stairs, or ladders," I whispered to him. And that meant one of two things. First, this place only had one floor that humans were intended to access. Or second, this place had a whole lot of aspects we just weren’t seeing.

The nails of the Ice Dog clicked against the floor as he slowly paced in front of Ken. The Binding Shield, I thought, had hidden an entire city from my sight. The same was most likely in effect here. The Dog turned slightly, and Ken and Jen flanked it perfectly. There was no reason to turn, of course… nothing that could be seen. I casually held out my hand as we passed the point where the Dog had veered. Cold stone meet my touch. Cutter, watching me from the corner of his eye as he conversed with Ken on the subject of religion, nodded ever so slightly. He’d seen my little experiment. The kid looked back and forth between us, knowing that he was missing something here. Jen glanced back at me. Her expression was a surprising mirror of the kid’s. So… she didn’t know what I was thinking? Perhaps the telepathy of the Flame Bird and Rider extended only so far… The trick would be figuring out how far that was, exactly. Mind readers were always a big roadblock on Circles. Some missions ended before they had rightly started when that charming factor was introduced. This was, personally, my first on-mission encounter with it. But I’d heard enough of it from Cutter, whose best friend’s scouting party had been killed on a Circle because some telepathic individual had overheard them thinking of their mission.

"…Is very interesting." Cutter was finishing as I tuned back into the conversation.

"Really? What do your people believe?" Ken asked innocently. Man, he was starting to get on my nerves.

"Many things. One God, multiple Gods, no Gods, natural forces… you name it, somebody believes it. I can’t say I’ve ever heard of a culture like yours, however. Truly, you believe in no superior powers? Nothing at all like that?" Cutter sounded genuinely interested. Junk like that was his specialty. I’d never understood it myself. Give me good ol’ biology any day. Ken laughed slightly.

"Your people are a strange sort. Why would we need to believe in such things? The world is how it is, and that should be enough for any man of sense." Now I'm no priest, but I had a feeling that wouldn’t go down the throats of about half of Earth without a mild choking sound accompanying it. Cutter’s face made it clear he hadn’t a clue how to respond to that. Circle worlds had a tendency to develop the strangest religions, ranging from the one-god system all the way to the system were everything was a god, and I mean everything. The Circles like that are really hard to tame, I’ll tell you. When every man considers himself a deity, he’s not all too willing to resign to being controlled through military force. Places like that are just hell. Too much trouble to tame, if you ask me. But than, I’ve always been a big supporter of selective conquering. Not just taking over all the Circles that are ripe and ready for the pickin’. Such an indiscriminate system leads to a whole lot of life loss on both sides. Some places, it might just be better to establish trade relations and slowly gain control of their economy, controlling them that way… Just as effective, but too slow for politicians. They always used the Circles as campaign gimmicks. 'Under my stunning leadership, a forested world was brought to its knees! I'll use your tax dollars to rape and pillage its natural resources so your children can have notebook paper!' Kind of belittles what Scouts like me do, I’ve always thought–but I really shouldn’t talk. If my views ever got around, I’d probably be executed for treason.

That was one major drawback to being a Circle Scout. If your opinions didn’t match those of the powers that be, you earn yourself a one way trip six feet under. It makes sense though, I guess. A dissenting Scout could do really bad things… like forewarn a Circle. The God of Two-Faced Weasels–the one I place my faith in, by the way–protect us if a Circle ever got time to prepare against us. The cost of conquering a world like that just defies imagining.

Not to say that folks like me were given a choice in all this–I was just along for the ride, in all its stomach-turning glory.

The other side of the Cathedral took a lot longer to reach than it should have. By about fifteen minutes. Another illusion? It might have just been the mirror effect, though.

Cutter was having a blast, I could tell. It wouldn’t surprise me if he hadn’t noticed the time lag, senior officer or no. Ken and him had entered into a theological debate. Something about atheists always tripped a wire in him, and he just wouldn’t drop the subject 'til he had a new found believer on his hands. It had taken me an entire year to get him off my back, and that was just because I started praying on a nightly basis. Come to think about it, it’s a good thing Cutter never asked what God I was praying to… my Weasel religion might not go down too well with him. But he sleeps better at nights thinking I believe in an afterlife, somewhere to go whenever we slip up out here… And it’s no skin off my back to humor him. So why not? The funny thing is, I’ve made up an entire Heaven for the God of Two-faced Weasels and his loyal followers (me). It doesn’t have fluffy white clouds or angels, but it does have that tavern down the street from my mother’s house. The one I got drunk in for the first time, on my fourteenth birthday. Ah, memories…

A glance at my feet showed me my weirdest hallucination yet. A woman, pacing beside me. She was rather plain looking. Brown hair, pale complexion, kind of on the shorter end of the spectrum but not by much. Certainly not the type I’d look at twice walking in a club, and I only stared at her now because she had taken the place of my shadow on the Ice.

But her eyes… I stopped in my tracks, looking down at her. She waved, those brilliant blue eyes locked on mine. They danced with an inner light, an intelligence I’d never seen before. As I watched, she reached behind her back… and pulled out a notepad? What the…? She scribbled something down, and held it up to the Ice.

"De Ro’kian dre’core?" I read aloud, sounding about half as confused as I looked. Before I quite knew what was happening, Jen was towering over me, her left hand full of the front of my shirt.

"What did you say?" She growled. Jen the rude hen was a lot stronger than she looked. Not that I was too concerned about her, though. I mean, when you have a choice between the ticked-off broad and the giant husky, both of whom look ready to kill you… Trust me, the dog holds your attention even if the broad has you by the throat.

"Huh?" I squeaked out, for once sounding innocent without trying to. A very, very long time passed… It must have been at least two seconds.

"Put him down, dear," Ken instructed, just as innocent as ever. Jen fairly trembled with rage. Her grip tightened on my shirt, and in one violent movement she dragged me off my feet to a position about two millimeters from her face.

"De Firos dre’core! De Icen dre’core! De Ro’kian nomith!" She hissed, apparently for my ears alone. Here upon she tossed me to the ground like a rag doll, and kicked my kneecap. My kneecap! Of all things, why my kneecap?

"Ouch-!" I complained, clutching my poor kneecap. Eyes flashing, Jen stormed… straight through thin air, and completely out of sight.

"Sorry about that," Ken apologized, oozing sincerity. "Where did you hear those words?" All of the sudden, his innocent voice had gained an edge I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

"The Ice; there was this girl-" I began, as Cutter offered me a hand up.

"Ah," Ken nodded, cutting off my speech. "Now where were we, Ambassador Cutter?" He asked pleasantly. Cutter shot me a ‘We’ll talk… later’ look, and got back to his conversation without missing a beat. Which is exactly the point I'm trying to make about him. When it comes to religion, he’s completely insane.

"What…?" The kid muttered, staring at the spot Jen had disappeared from. I shrugged, and gave him a push to get him moving again.

"Big foot must have gotten her." Ah, but my wit never ceases to amaze me. The kid glared murder at me, but I gave him another push before he could make use of that opened mouth of his.

"Not funny," he finally settled on, starting after Cutter and the man. I followed at his heels, not really wanting to be left behind. The Dog was breathing down my neck.

And I mean that in the most literal sense.

^*^*^

The building loomed over us, its length and height enough to take a man’s breath away… Except I kept looking back at the Cathedral, back to the building, back to the Cathedral… Suffice to say there was no contest.

The place was just a big box, much like everything lining the streets on the way to the Cathedral. An uncreative masterpiece nonchalantly hidden behind a paint job strikingly like the colors of a sunset. But it was big –I had to give that to the builders. Which made it an uncreative monstrosity nonchalantly hidden behind a few buckets of hastily applied paint. I’m such a good judge of artwork. You should’ve seen me back in grade school during all those dumb art field trips. Lucky for me those stopped at high school. May the God of Two-faced Weasels shine down upon the budget of Central High, and grant to all those involved in its horribly handled management a right-hand position in the tavern of Heaven!

"This is the Ice and Fire House," Ken told me and the kid, briefly turning away from the increasingly heated theological debate to answer the kid’s question. As for me, I hadn’t opened my mouth since the Ice Dog started growling every time I slowed my pace. Honestly, I felt like a ewe. Which is disturbing on so many levels I won’t even begin to explore them… "Ambassador Cutter, really… Can we change the subject? As far as I can see, you’ve no real reason that I should buy into your system of beliefs save the mental crutch it could provide. Unless, perhaps, you are implying that I need that crutch?" A merry little light twinkled in Ken’s eyes, and I had to stifle a laugh. Struggle all you want, man… No one gets away from ‘Ambassador’ Cutter that easily.

The corner of Cutter’s mouth was twitching uncontrollably, and a small smile joined it after a moment.

"What’s a matter, Cutter," I asked mildly, attempting to drag the wanna-be preacher back to the reality that we were walking around in. "Bug bite your lip?" He glanced at me sharply. The fire drained out of his eyes as I raised my eyebrow suggestively. Thank the God of Two-Faced Weasels for minor miracles. And thank the atheist for being around to knock some sense into the believer. I take a bow.

"Yeah. Guess some things are the same everywhere." He muttered, his voice just the barest fraction lower than usual. I smiled. Yeah, Cutter –I know. You’re welcome. And if we get back to Earth, the first thing I’m doing is taking you to the tavern down the street and drinking your religion away. At least, as far away as cheap drinks and cheaper women can make it go.

"What’s so big about bugs?" The kid asked. I couldn’t help but smile. The half-pint wasn’t that bad at this; already he was picking up on things… He knew he was missing something here, he just didn’t know what. I must admit, it certainly put me to shame. It took me taming an entire world before I figured out I was missing anything between Cutter and our old partner. And man, I wish I was exaggerating about that.

"Nothing at all, kid," I patted him on the head, messing up his hair in the process. "Bugs are tiny, or have you forgotten?"

"Not funny!" He yelped, ducking away from my hand. Ken chuckled. Great, I thought, shifting my attention to the Circle Savage. Even his laughter sounds innocent! I just wanted to punch his lights out. How dare he be so cheerful! With what we would bring to his people, he had no right to be-

A chill ran down my spine as I followed Ken and Cutter onwards to the Ice and Fire House. More of the Badly Painted Barn, if you ask me.

The thing was about four stories tall, but the windows hinted at them being of a strange spacing. Probably the extra height on each floor was to accommodate the Dogs. Frankly, the big husky seemed to be showing no signs of turning around as we entered the place.

A choir of growls heralded my passage through the large wooden doors. Tough crowd. I gazed around at in a slow and methodical manner, taking in the pack of Ice Dogs lounging about the long room in an almost casual manner. There were seven of them, including Ken’s. Every last one of them was staring straight at me. No mistake –those growls were for me and me alone. Yet they were definitely lounging, one and all. Great. So they were ticked at me, but certain I wasn’t enough of a threat that they’d have to stand up to take me down. Do I really come off as that pathetic? Ken’s Dog casually joined their ranks as Ken led us on.

The room we had entered into was large, stretching out to my left and right for nearly a football field. It was only about twenty feet across, though. And barren, with only the Ice Dogs to decorate its wood length as far as I could see. Pretty wood, by the way –completely unadorned, and lacking a finishing coat… but it had a healthy golden glow in its red-brown depths. I wouldn’t have been surprised to see leaves sprouting out of it.

Funny I should mention that, because the room Ken led us to (past the slightly bared teeth of the growling dogs, and much to my discomfort) was sprouting leaves. And branches. And vines, and flowers… The kid whistled in appreciation. Or maybe that was me, I don’t know. I like plants. I wanted to be a botanist when I was a little tike, except that field of expertise is a bit moot back on Earth.

The room was small, by comparison to the Cathedral and the room with the Dogs. But back on Earth, it would have been on a level with the High General’s war room. Which is saying a mouthful, that’s for sure.

The branches twined their way outwards from the wall itself. It should have been disturbing, or strange… but it wasn’t. It was simply beautiful, in a way the might and grandeur of the Cathedral could never hope to match. Vines laced upwards to join the branches from the floor, where pots held their roots in black soil. The pots were obviously hand crafted, with a multitude of designs I could never hope to describe. Birds and beasts, men and earth danced in black adornment across the fiery glaze on their sides. And I do mean dance. No mistaking it, even if they didn’t move like certain other things on shiny surfaces. And throughout the whole room…. Flowers! Red and yellow, blue, and black, ranging from the smallest pinprick to twice the size of a sunflower.

"And what do we have here, Master Kenneth?" My eyes reluctantly left the walls of the room in favor of the woman at its far side. A flower in her own right, I thought, watching a knowing smile play across her face as she meet my gaze. Tall, elegant, with hair the same shade as the fire on the pots and eyes twice as dark as midnight.

"I go away for two weeks, and my office is filled with flowers." Ken declared. I couldn’t help but glare at the man. The way he’d said that had been… distasteful! Nobody should insult plants in my presence, no, not a good idea… Before I even realized it, I’d taken a step towards him. The woman raised an eyebrow. A small smile twitched at the corners of her mouth.

"Now that’s an interesting tone to take. Especially," she waved her left forefinger in a silent tisk-tisk, "concerning a gift from the Western Cathedral. Or have you forgotten, while you were out running around? The Western Riders are due to arrive in less than three days." Her gaze had resided solely upon me during that speech, but now they hopped to Cutter and the kid. Hopped is definitely the word I'm going for, here; they didn’t dance, that would have been more elegant, they didn’t shift, that would have been less graceful… they hopped. A brief, energetic motion even if it only occurred in her pupils. Brother, I think I'm in love… "And who are these? Not from the Western, or the Northern." Her head tilted coyly to the right, appraising us as she placed her hands on her hips. "Or the Southern. And they most definitely are not from around here. Which leaves only the Rockies… which, I dare say, you would not have brought here so calmly. Or allowed them to walk behind your back, for that matter." She smiled slowly, casually… wonderfully. Yup, love… God of Two-faced Weasels strike me dead, I don’t want to be one of those babbling fools I always see, sending letters to their sweethearts instead of going out drinking with the rest of us...

"They are from Earth," Ken explained, his voice… monotonous. No innocence, thank God.

"E-irth? E-irth…? E-irth, e-irth, e-irth!" Her voice danced over the foreign word, a laugh in her voice. "Can’t say I’ve heard of it. One of the backwater villages?" Ooo, that was low… I think I just felt my bubble bursting…

"Earth is in the Heavens." The kid quipped in. Cutter and I gawked at him… Well, I gawked. Cutter merely raised an eyebrow. But it’s all relative, you know? "We wish to establish relations with your people. There is much our world could offer you, and much yours may offer us." Wow… he even got the wording right! See this is exactly why I didn’t want the little Harvard grad on my team. It’s just not right having rookies outshining veterans on their first Circle. Honestly, if he’s so smart, what is he doing as a Scout anyway? (Insert muttered curses here…) And no, I’m not jealous. And I certainly do not bear ill will on Harvard, just because they turned down my application… (More muttered curses, if you please, would fit in nicely about now.) Honestly, a guy makes one mistake, and it ruins his entire college selection process. And it wasn’t even my fault; we were both drunk! It wasn’t my fault he tripped, was it…? Furthermore, it was definitely not my fault he’d bared steel. I mean, I was unarmed… Either me or him, you know? Definitely not my fault. Stupid Harvard.

"Nice answer." She nodded pleasantly. "How long did it take you to memorize that?" I patted the dumbfounded kid on the head affectionately.

"My Lady, I’d ask that you ignore my small friend. He’s a bit inexperienced, and lacking the refinement that comes with age." I spouted out without hesitation. Her eyebrow quirked upwards, her gaze dancing across my face in flashy swirls of black.

"If you weren’t a plant lover, I might be inclined to slap you." She crossed her arms over her chest slowly and with great purpose. "My face is up here."

"Err, yes. I can see that."

"Now that certain distractions have been removed." The funny thing is how pleasant she sounded through all of this. I was getting the distinct impression she was the type of woman that enjoyed such things. Interesting, since her manner of dress was conservative to a fault. A plain gray turtle neck sweater adorned her… How should I put this…? Her ‘frame.’ It was fairly baggy in most places, but failed to hide her slender yet curved autonomy. Her pants were a simple brown affair. No shoes locked in her dainty little feet. Obviously she was dressed for garden work, what with the dirt smears on her clothing. And the pruning scissors in her hand. And the stray leaf just above her ear.

"My name is Mather, by the way." I proclaimed happily, a grin of the lewdest sort gracing my face. An answering smile flitted across her expression.

"What, no last name?"

"Err…"

"Suzu… Where did you put my desk?" Ken asked, his innocent tone back in full force. Good Weasel, he was annoying!

"Your desk," she informed him, brandishing her pruning scissors, "is not the subject here. You need to start getting ready for the Western Riders. And no, I will not take any excuses. The Westerners are expecting you to be here. I’ve got no mind to deal with those little garden gnomes this time."

"Suzu…"

"Silence." Oh, her voice was like music to my ears! Not a single itty-bitty hint of innocence, just a whole truck load of carefully repressed anger waiting to explode at the slightest provocation. "The Head Rider is coming, and he expects to be greeted by a Head Rider. And by expect, I mean he demanded it. He was very vocal on the subject, in fact. Very, very vocal. So was his messenger. Pity we don't have one in stock, wouldn't you agree? He also ‘expects’" –here she made little quotation marks in the air with her hands, the pruning scissors still tightly clasped in her grip- "that the décor of the Ice and Fire House be changed to accommodate him. Now is there any part of this you do not understand? Have I been talking too fast for you, oh High and Mighty Prince of Ice? Because if I am, certainly, tell me. Really. By all means, tell me." Ken certainly looked as if he wanted to do just that, but the enchantress kept right on. "In fact, his messenger is down at the stables right now. Just be happy that Jen is still out in the field. Because you want to know what the girl’s doing in the stables? Tearing down the Firos shrine. Why, you might ask? To tick Jen off. Yeah, that’s right. That is the entire reason. I asked her; that’s what she said. Apparently Jen’s little stunt last year hasn’t been forgiven. …Ken? What’s wrong?"

"Jen isn’t out in the field, Suzu; she came back with me. I believe she was heading to the stables, in fact." His voice was calm and collected in a way only a man on the edge of panic can sound.

It was funny what happened then. Certainly not a very dignified reaction from mature adults. The two of them merely looked at each other for the longest moment. Their faces were absolutely expressionless. Then a small sound escaped Ken. Not unlike a deflating balloon, I thought. As one they scrambled for the door, nearly knocking Cutter and I over in the process. As for the kid, he squeaked on his way down. It’s reassuring to know I'm not the only male that squeaks.

"Well… that was interesting," I pointed out, now that we were quite alone in the room.

"Yeah. Some Circle, huh?" Cutter laughed shortly. "Kind of a refreshing change from Kurk. Haven’t even seen any witch trials yet."

"Eesh… Don’t remind me." I winced. Leave it to Cutter, that’s all I'm saying. The kid picked himself up slowly, looking back and forth between us.

"Shouldn’t we, ah, go after them?" He asked.

"And get burned at the stake?"

"Cutter…"

"Heh heh."

"Am I missing something here?" Wow, we got an observant one on our hands.

"Well back on Kurk, out last Circle-"

"Cutter. If it’s all the same to you, could we spare the trip down memory lane?" It was funny, really. Cutter was just doing it to get a rise out of me. And it really shouldn’t have worked. I mean, I’m a calm, rational adult… I can deal with things…

"Come on, Percy. Have a sense of humor; I was going to tell him about what Mellow did on that first day." Mellow, our old partner. A sheepish grin came to my face as Cutter patted me on the back. "You’re so tense, kid. Relax." Kid? Oh man, that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Have I really been actin’ that bad?

"I think I’ve got a name now, you know…" I protested feebly. "Plus, we got the kid to pick on."

"Hey…!"

"Don’t sweat it, Mather. Okay? You’ve been off your game since we got here. This gets any worse…" Oh, he thought I was tense before? I had to shift my shoulders to keep them from snapping under their own weight.

"What are you trying to say, Cutter?" I asked carefully.

"Nothing, Mather. Just that maybe," He put a very, very delicate emphasis on ‘maybe,’ "You haven’t had quite enough leave in between worlds. I know I wouldn’t mind a few more weeks-"

"I'm fine, Cutter," My grin could freeze water just then. "Perfectly fine. Okay? Six months out of the game, you can only expect a guy to be a bit rusty." I added a nice forced laugh to this ensemble. The forced laugh is always a great touch, I happen to think. "Just a little creeped out by the mind-reading factor is all. Can you blame a guy?" Cutter eyed me for a few moments afterwards, a carefully appraising gleam to his eye that I didn’t really appreciate. If Mellow was still around, I just know this conversation would never have come up. ‘If.’ All right, I admit it, a few more weeks wouldn’t hurt. If I didn’t go insane from boredom, that was. "So what do you think was going on back in that Cathedral?" Ooo, I'm so good at changing subjects. My tact is only rivaled by my wit, after all. Cutter barked a quick laugh, shaking his head. The kid was pointedly looking at a particularly large flower, the sullen look on his face implying that he’d talk to us when we apologized for completely talking over his head. Or the day after Hell froze over; whichever came first.

"All right, Mather. Play it your way; I was just giving you the option, I wasn’t saying you needed it." He clapped a hand over my shoulder reassuringly, and I couldn’t help but smile.

"Yeah, I know. Guess I'm still just a little touchy about it all."

"As for that Cathedral of theirs, I’d say they’re hiding something. But not from us; I’d say that invisible act is a twenty-four seven thing. As for what they’re hiding…" He shrugged nonchalantly. "Better let the boys back home worry about that." I nodded slowly.

"Yeah… So how are they doing it? Reminds me of the Lucor rocks, but…" I shrugged.

"Hmm…" Cutter flicked his eyes towards the kid, a small smile quirking on his lips. I pantomimed a sigh; the kid had his back to us, now. He seemed very interested in the pots. Interesting, since according to his records he’d failed every art class he’d ever taken, breaking even my record with aesthetic pursuits.

"Hey kid, you’ve studied the Lucor project, right? What do you think?" I, the good Samaritan, inquired politely. An infinitely surprised expression gracing his face, the kid turned around and gawked at me like I was some Circle Savage.

"Well…" He swallowed, apparently surprised beyond words that us experts were consulting him. Good thing he didn’t stop to think just then, and piece together that we hadn’t studied the Lucor project, we’d been on the Lucor project. It might have burst his bubble. "It’s a similar effect, but it can’t be based on the same principal. Lucor rocks don’t just conceal from sight; they mask all the senses. Mather could touch the ones here, so it’s gotta be something different…" Bravo, kid, bravo. Ah, but look who’s talking… Thanks, Cutter, but now I’ve got Kurk on the brain. Metal note: kill Cutter in his sleep. "Beyond that, I can’t say much. I don’t exactly have the proper equipment to run tests, you know. Maybe after the Negotiators start arriving." Maybe? This kid’s so helpful, don’t ya think?

"Good enough," Cutter proclaimed. I laughed curtly.

"Yeah, let them deal with it." Okay, so perhaps those few weeks would have been good, but some serious anger counseling was what I really needed. Of course, I’d kill anyone dumb enough to suggest that… But didn’t that just prove the point? Man, my thoughts were annoying… Mental note: kill brain. Suggested method of death: alcohol. Or a toothpick. I wasn’t all that picky, after all. Get it? Toothpick, picky? Ha ha… I crack myself up…

That sullen look was back on the kid’s face; aww, he felt excluded.

"Why are we waiting here, anyway?" He asked bluntly, turning the conversation back to himself in a most tactful and non-blunt manner. On a level with my own suave skills, I’d say.

"Because-" I began. Too bad Cutter saw the gleam in my eyes that suggested a most inappropriate response was just about to vacate my mouth.

"Because when you’re a Scout on an untamed Circle, it’s always best just to stay where the locals expect you to be. Jump around too much and you’re bound to jump into trouble."

"That is the corniest thing I’ve ever heard out of you, Cutter." I shook my head. Really, it was. Sounded like some fairy tale moral. I don’t like fairy tales much. Mental Note: host a book burning party in the near future. All Snow Whites, Cinderellas, and Red Riding Hoods must go. Arrgh, fire… Maybe that book burning wasn’t a good idea. Yup, just a few anger management issues… Thanks, Cutter, I really needed that trip down memory lane.

The kid laughed at my little comment, but Cutter didn’t. He’d heard that shift in tone, minute though it was. A raised eyebrow said it all, and I smiled sheepishly in response. Yeah, Cutter, I know… Deep breaths. Deep, deep breaths. Deep breaths…are not helping. Okay Cutter, stop staring at me like that… And don’t you even think of mentioning that vacation again!

"Hmm, interesting assembly in the office of the Head Rider. You don’t look like Northerners." A small voice said. Our eyes darted as one to the doorway. I don’t know about theirs, but mine directed a message to my brain that landed me on the floor laughing my arse off. "No, not like Northerners at all," she commented, nudging me with a bare foot. She was a short, middle-aged, relatively pretty lady. Glimmering black hair cascaded in soft waves down her back, her legs, stopping bare inches above the floor. Of course, that would have been a more impressive sight if she hadn’t been four feet tall, but it was a good effect none the less. "Do you find me amusing?" She inquired, her high-pitched voice somewhere between the call of a bird and the squeak of a mouse.

"Oh –Ha ha ha!- yeah!" It wasn’t so much her height, or even her voice. It was her clothing. A ludicrously bright red blouse, and a lime-green scarf whose neon state was matched only by her blue pants. The material shimmered like silk, but no shadow was upon its surface. Every square inch glowed in the most literal sense.

"I am glad you are so amused. It shows that you will take this in good humor." At ‘this,’ I received a sharp kick to my spleen. Honest to Weasel, my spleen. What was with this world? "Now get up and stop laughing!" Her squeaky little bird voice carried the unmistakable tone of one who had never been disobeyed in her life.

"Mather… vacation…" Cutter commented absentmindedly. Mental Note: don’t kill Cutter in his sleep. Instead place a crazed, hungry, plague carrying gerbil in his bed. Then sit back and watch the fun.

"All right, all right!" I climbed to my feet reluctantly, still grinning like an idiot. Honestly, this chick… she was like a canary. A canary on drugs that had been spray-painted and put in front of multiple spotlights. It was like a bad public service announcement. ‘Look, kiddies; this is your brain… and this is your brain on canary. Any questions?’

"Well, now that you’ve quite collected yourself, you strange little man…" She stared up at me contemptuously, leaning all of her weight on her left leg. For a moment I wondered if she was going to kick me, and bring me down to her eye level again. "Do you know where I can find Kenneth? I do believe he returns today. I must pay my respects." She flashed a smile at that, a nice toothy one. It didn’t touch her eyes in the least. "Well? Speak up, you overgrown oaf."

"Are you talking to me?" I inquired politely, having reached the conclusion that there was no way in the known worlds a drugged canary could make me angry, even with the insults and the kicks. Canary Lady sighed as dramatically as one of those old silent movie performers.

"Somewhere, I fear, your mother is crying." And with that pretty little line she turned on her heel and skipped from the room. Literally. She turned on her heel and skipped. My laughter followed her out the door.

"Mather," Cutter said pleasantly. "How about Hawaii? I hear the beaches are nice this time of year." Oh yeah, that shut me up.

"Good God Cutter, you can lay off me already. First day on world; I'm supposed to be a colossal moron." Seriously; we drew straws for it. Which stinks; I was really hoping the kid would get stuck with this part. After all, he was Mister Harvard. An educated fellow could do more with the role than little ol’ public university me could. And honestly, how was I supposed to know the first thing about acting like an idiot? It was just ridiculous.

"Thou shalt not use thine Lord’s name in vain." The sad thing was, I honestly couldn’t tell if he was joking with me or not. The kid had gone back to sullenly appraising the pottery.

"I didn’t," I quipped back, continuing on before Cutter could ask me what that was supposed to mean. "Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s about time for the village idiot to hit the town."

Oh boy, did I ever leave that room quick. Cutter’s words followed at my heels;

"What was that supposed to mean, Mather?" But hey, it wasn’t like I could hear him. It was surprising what I didn’t hear, even when I was only about ten feet away.

The Ice Dogs lifted up their chorus of growls again. And not a one of them actually made a move against me. One of them was standing next to the exit, growling for all it was worth as I passed. It was casually scratching behind its ear with one immense hind leg at the same time. Honestly, it makes a guy feel appreciated.

I stepped outside lightly, looking up at the yellow sun. It was a lighter shade than the one back on good ol’ Earth; more white than yellow, really. Then I landed flat on my face. Or rather, I was landed flat on my face. Cursing loudly and proficiently enough to put a Navy boy to shame, I tottered back upright. At my feet, a small blue fox had taken up residence. It yawned loudly as I gave it vivid instructions on where it could go. The critter didn’t seem the least ruffled that my feet had caught on it, causing my downfall.

"Ruuuuuueee?" It asked mildly, cocking its head up at me. Its golden eyes were dull with sleep. Oh darn, I must have woken the thing up… clumsy little me. It yawned again, and got to its feet.

"I’ve seen a bugger like you." I commented dryly. "Back in that Ice stuff. I think I liked him better."

"Rooooooiiiii…" It quipped back, making an elaborate show of stretching. Its long blue fur was sent cascading in glittering waves by this motion, looking for all the world like miniature sea breakers.

"Yeah, that’s what they all say." I waved my finger in a silent tisk-tisk.

"Ruie?" It questioned, its head moving to track my finger. "Ruio-ruiah?"

"Apology accepted." I nodded, and stooped down to pat the little critter on its head.

"Ruiiiiiaaahh?" It questioned of my hand, raising up its snout to greet the incoming appendage in the manner of canines everywhere. Its fur was soft and silken. It didn’t make any attempt to flee, so I reached out my other hand and rubbed it behind its ears. "Reeeaaa…" It commented, its eyes half-closed with pleasure.

"That’s a good boy." I cooed. I liked dogs, at least when they weren’t taller than me. At barely a foot high and about two long, the little fox fit that description to the T. As my hands worked their magic, I examined the little bugger visually. Its fur was a dark, vibrant blue tending towards black at its extremities. The roots of its hairs were white as snowfall. Its skull felt -as I gave it a nice itching under its blissfully lifted chin- subtly different from that of Earthen canines. Wider at the cheeks, taller at the top, with a stubbier muzzle. "Well aren’t you just the cutest little bugger?" A quick ducking of my head reclassified "it" to "her." I stroked down its back with one had as the other stayed with her chin. She arched her back like a cat to meet me.

"Ruuiiooo… ruiiioooo…" And was that purring? Maybe not a canine... I gently lifted up one of her front paws. She didn’t mind much; critters in heaven don’t have much concern for where their feet reside, I’ve noticed in the past.

"Retractable claws, huh?" I set her paw back down. "So you’re some sort of kitty-cat, eh? I can’t say I care for cats very much." Her body structure really seemed more like that of a dog’s, though. And I didn’t recall many cats with tails as bushy as hers.

"Ruio?" She questioned, abruptly pulling away from my hand. Her golden eyes flung wide open, and her head darted about frantically.

"What’s wrong, girlie?" I questioned, a slightly bemused smile on my face as I regarded her.

"Riiii!" She trilled, as high-pitched as any songbird worth its plumage. I heard footsteps coming from my right, but before I could turn my head to look for their source, the blue bugger leaped upon my shoulder, curling around behind my neck. Oh yeah, I thought with a wince, she’s a cat. Claws and all.

"De fireos der’core." Jen’s pleasant voice hissed. She could use some nice claws herself, I thought absently, standing to look at her while my hands went up to dislodge the blue girl’s grip somewhat. "What are you doing with that Frino, Denomith?"

"Denomith…?" I questioned, my eyebrow quirking spasmodically.

"Riiii!"

"Siiiiihhh…" She hissed through her bared teeth. I wondered with alarm if she was going to bite me. "Give it to me, Denomith."

"Riii-eeooahh!" The blue girl trilled in alarm, peering at Jen from around the safety of my neck. Her claws were dug into my right shoulder and lower back. If you’ve never had the joy of a cat hanging onto your back by its claws, then I’ll just tell you this –it’s not the funniest experience in the world. It’s understandable that I wasn’t in a mood to listen to dear Jen the rude Hen, what with the excruciating points of pain and all. Twenty-four points of pain, to be specific. Do the math; that makes six fun-filled harbingers on each dainty paw.

"Denomith." Jen warned, as I succeeded in wrenching the little bugger off my back. "Give it to me." She thrust her hands out expectantly, as if honestly believing that I was in a position to hand the critter over. As it was, I had gotten her off of my back only to find her in a mad dash to embed herself in my chest. And, oh no, no! Dear Weasel, why to you torment me so? She just got under my shirt…

"Jeannine!" Trilled a certain canary pleasantly. "I’ve been looking all over for you!" The Canary Lady skipped happily into view, completing this wonderful scene in some indefinable way.

"Jen!" A slightly less pleased, and decidedly more frantic, voice yelled out. "I’ve been looking all over… for… you..." Ken trailed off as he noticed Canary Lady’s presence. "The, ah, Western messenger is here." He offered helpfully.

"Siiiiihhh…" Well, at least Jen had someone else to bite now. Though whether it would be Ken or Canary was probably a fair bet.

"Kenneth, darling! What a pleasant surprise!" Canary chirped, her grin making it apparent that she was really more of a vulture than a songbird at heart. I stood watching this lovely scene play out, gasping for air and holding the squirming blue menace at arm’s length away from me. I’d managed to get a grip on her so that her front legs were pinned to her sides.

"Ruiiiioooaahiiieee!" She yelled unhappily, squirming for all her little frame was worth. Apparently it was worth quite a bit, if the gouges her hind legs were paving into my arms were any indication.

"What, pray tell, are you doing to that poor little Frino?" Canary’s attention was on me a bit too intensely all of the sudden. "Give it to me." Gees, if all these Circle Savages want the little blue menace so bad, they can just have it! I gladly and quite literally dropped the bugger on her, a sadistic grin on my face. The Frino landed on her shoulder, and promptly began to burrow under her red blouse. I can’t say I'm proud of the scene that resulted. But hey! Jen was laughing her fine fanny off and slapping my back like I was an old friend by the end of it.

As the blue scoundrel ran away towards the Cathedral, its little legs pumping for all it was worth (which I’ve already established is quite a bit), and the Canary slapped Ken for his questionably helpful efforts in evicting the critter from her blouse, I reflected upon one simple fact:

The Weasel works in mysterious ways.