"Oh, Smoke, do you have to go now?" Springing Doe asks plaintively. "What if you miss my baby's birth?"

Smoke Cat Watching smiles, "I doubt there's any danger of that; the same augury that helped save your life predicted I would return in time."

Song tries her own plea, "I'll teach you to fight."

"No," Smoke Cat replies, "I'm afraid that I must go now while the caravans are at their peak. So, I will leave as soon as I meet with Blue Turtle and he helps me to remember the exact location I must find somewhere to the east, before I can journey south to the Arcane Academy." The shaman looks slyly at Wolf Calling. "I could put it off for a few days to dance for your wedding, though."

The younger girl blushes crimson. "I let him win," she grumbles. "Plus, Star Hawk treats me just as he did before!"

The two clans camped together along the river for the marriage are preparing to break apart and go their separate ways, in a matter of days. Smoke Cat has not been idle. She has missed no opportunity to pick Rolling Thunder's shaman's brain, but the more she learns, the more haphazard and incomplete her own education seems. If it had come to a magical duel between her and Talks Over the Left, could she have won? Her friends' aid was very timely, yet she still feels the need for more training.

Blue Turtle Dreaming's best skill is to guide the dreamer to the truths hidden deep within or in the distant past. This time he helps Smoke Cat recreate one of her earliest memories of her mother, Bronze Mirror. Born into Sun Horse Clan, Bronze Mirror fell in love and married a spice trader.

Unfortunately, her husband thought it was not a wife's place to accompany him on long trips, so she remained at home, pining for the grasslands, and yearning for this free style of upbringing for her infant daughter, called Kitten. When Kitten was old enough, the couple compromised and took the toddler with them on caravan, but it was soon clear that the presence of a young wife and baby daughter cramped Kitten's father's ability to carouse and swindle and basically please no one but himself.

By the time the family visited Bronze Mirror's home clan, no illusions were left. Kitten lay looking at her mother's profile while she, almost still dressed, watched out the tent flap as her husband secured his goods and slunk off into the night. No guards challenged him; Bronze Mirror, sister of the wife of Chieftain White Bear, had given orders that it should be so, unless he tried to steal the horses. After that the man was known as Weasel Has Two Tails, and he was not welcomed by Sun Horse.

The information Smoke Cat needs, however, is what Weasel's original name was and, if possible, how to find the house in the Central Kingdom of the Seo Hán Nì Empire where she was born. It is her fervent hope that her father... Silver something... Silver Dagger?... will be honorable enough in his own country to pay her tuition and expenses while attending the Arcane Academy, as the young shaman has no money, and very little that would bring a good price should she be forced to trade it. He does, after all, owe her to make up for his abandonment.

When Blue Turtle is finished with his ritual, Smoke Cat Watching feels confident that she can find the right area of the Central Kingdom, The Celestial City, and after that her own lifeline will guide her to the correct house. If Silver Dagger does not still live there, one can always ask for directions, of course. Now all that remains to do is to await a suitable eastbound caravan and sign on as interpreter and guide, or if absolutely necessary, protector, but she would rather not mention her magic to strangers.

In the caravan going east which Smoke Cat Watching joins, there is another foreign traveler. "Hello," he says, extending his hand, "call me Jason."

"As you wish," answers Smoke Cat, the trickle of magic she is using to translate alerting her that he is lying. "The names we choose also define us. You may call me Smoke Cat, but you may not call me Smokey," she says. "I am journeying to visit my paternal relatives."

Now it is his turn to state his business, and amazingly, he is telling the truth when he responds, "I am going north from the Central Seo Hán Nì Kingdom to rescue a princess from a tower, where she is being held by an evil sorcerer." At least, that is what he believes is the truth.

"That's very good of you," the shaman tells him.

"Yes," says Jason, struck by this, "it is, isn't it?"

"How will you defeat an evil sorcerer? Are you a mage?" Smoke Cat inquires, curious in spite of herself.

"Well, no," Jason replies, "but I have quite the collection of magic tricks. Honestly though," and he winks audaciously at her, "I'd rather sneak in, steal the girl, and escape unnoticed."

"I think that's very prudent," Smoke Cat says, trying not to chuckle.

"There's bound to be a handsome reward for her offered somewhere," Jason muses, managing to sound dreamy rather than avaricious.

"I understand that traditionally one marries the princess involved. Perhaps that might be considered compensation enough?" suggests Smoke Cat Watching.

"No! Oh no, it has to be actual cash money for me... not that I'm in debt or anything," Jason adds too quickly. "I just... I'm not ready to get married yet. That's all."

The young shaman nods and lets the subject drop. "So, how are you employed in the caravan? I am an interpreter."

Jason looks bashful. "I try to be useful. And I'm amusing."

"Oh? You are an entertainer?" Smoke is a connoisseur of dance, and quite fond of music, as well.

Now, Jason grins, "No, I'm primarily a gambler. I won this trip from the caravan leader on a bet."

Smoke Cat thinks that this is likely where Jason's debt and need to change his name arose, but she gives him the benefit of the doubt. He could be very skilled, and just not exerting himself to win anything from her. Except her trust? Her friendship? It is a long way to their destination, after all, so maybe flirting with an attractive girl was the entire goal.

She is not sure how she feels about that, if in fact it is the case. A young shaman gets little opportunity for lighthearted flirting, and it might be a pleasantly novel experience. On the other hand, Smoke Cat Watching is wary of becoming too deeply emotionally involved with this man whose real name she does not even know. She decides that she will wait and offer friendship, but no more. Still Jason is intriguing. "How did you learn of this princess?"

"Oh, one hears things near the Arcane Academy," he mentions casually.

"So, you live close to the Arcane Academy," asks Smoke Cat Watching.

"Well, most recently," Jason answers with a smile.

"I have never been to any real city," she says, and this gives them much to discuss as they travel without entirely revealing her magical talents. Or so she believes, at least.

As the caravan travels down out of Tishatayo territory, the Tishat steppe land, they encounter several clans with which Smoke Cat is passably familiar, and she is able to expedite their accommodations. That the chieftains treat her with respect is marked by the caravan leader, and he wheedles the name of her errant father out of the shaman. Henceforth, to him and his crew, she becomes "Lady Silver Smoke," much to her mingled dismay and bemusement.

"It is clear that you must have status," he tells her. "Bear this in mind."

Yet her usefulness does not end as they enter farm country, for all of Smoke Cat's people have a way with horses, and the sturdy pack ponies are no exception. Only once, when a mare turns up badly lame, does the young shaman resort to her magic, and by this time Lady Silver Smoke's reputation is enough to hide the slightly supernatural nature of the cure. Jason, of course, laughs at her frequently, although never in front of the folk who have given her this title. The unemployed hero rides with her, now.

Soon they come to a forested area, and everyone is very nervous due to rumors of bandits. Smoke Cat Watching finds this enclosure by trees on all sides strange, and lies awake much of the night, becoming groggy and surly during the day. On the fourth night, however, her listening sleeplessness is its own reward; creeping to where Jason is stretched out snoring softly, Smoke Cat wakes him with a hand over his mouth and nose. "Don't cry out," she breathes. "The animals are frightened."

"I don't hear anything..." he murmurs.

"And that doesn't alarm you? They should be shuffling and snorting like always," she explains to his barely wakened mind.

Suddenly Jason becomes fully alert. "Yes. Farther south, I would say a lion, maybe. Here... bandits. I'll rouse the others." He hands her a wicked looking dagger out of a box. The tip gleams wetly, like oil, and glows oddly in the darkness. "It's poisoned," he says curtly. "That alone should keep attackers well away from you. Don't use it unless you have to."

Smoke Cat Watching does not know the tactics of these lowland outlaws, but she's seen horse raids. Capture as many as you can and stampede the rest; the strategy is simple. But there are so many trees here. The ponies will be scared into running, trip, fall, and break their legs or necks, or crash into branches that tear open their sides. Quickly, therefore, she un-pickets the anxious creatures, tethers them into their standard chain, and leads them forward, in the direction she thinks the enemy is least likely to come from.

Smoke Cat is far enough away by the time the bandits strike that she can't see back through the trees to what is going on. She hears men shrieking and presumes this is the attackers as the ponies also want to squeal and run, and she has a lot of calming to do. But bits of apple are horse magic.

Then there is shouting, and grunting, the sound of blows and yelps of pain: battle. And remarkably soon, it is over, and her side appears to have been victorious as she recognizes some of the voices raised in celebration. Jason is sent to find her, and his spear is held like it has seen use, although the point has been wiped clean. He is grinning. "That was easier than I thought it would be. The ponies being gone and the camp prepared to meet them knocked the fight out of the bad guys."

"I assume that you are unhurt, and that none of the outlaws were bad enough guys to have knives quite this... bad," remarks Smoke Cat in a carefully neutral tone, holding up the poisoned dagger between her fingertips. For the moment, they are utterly alone. "Who are you, Jason?" she asks.

"Someone who was trying to take care of you," he says in exasperation. "I didn't forge or taint the knife, I just... came across it, and thought it might be handy someday," he purses his lips. "Defensively. I'm not an assassin, Lady Silver Smoke, but if it comes down to me or an evil sorcerer... well, I've learned since then that most of them are immune to the majority of normal poisons anyway, however that was my thinking."

The shaman hesitates, then trusts him this far: "Yet that's a combination poison, magical and medical on this blade."

"It is. How much magic do you have that you can recognize that?" he counters.

"Not enough," she replies. "Thank you for the loan of your dagger." And she turns away.

Jason takes a step towards her, "I..." He lays down his spear. "I'm not injured, thank you for asking, although there are some superficial wounds back at camp." His mouth seems suddenly dry. "Jonas, my parents named me Jonas. Jason is close enough for me to answer to, all the same letters in fact..." he trails off.

"And you left the original behind because...?" asks Smoke Cat.

"Look, I never conned anyone who wasn't trying to cheat me, first. But it happens that swindlers don't much like that," he winks.

As they lead the ponies back in two lines, Smoke Cat assures Jonas that she'll continue to call him Jason in public. "It means "healing", so perhaps it will bring resolution with your past," she says. Returning with the animals, the pair is hailed with joy, as ponies are as important as their packs.

"Lady, I cannot thank you enough for your clear head in saving our beasts," effuses the caravan leader, "but please let me give you some advice. You say you seek relatives of your father, a spice merchant called Silver Dagger. I knew him. He was not popular. Yet I have heard nothing from him for many years, so perhaps he is dead. Still, you will not impress your relations arriving dressed like that; you must have a costume proper to a fine lady of the Central Kingdom, and a parasol at least."

“A parasol?” Smoke inquires, not understanding. “Does it rain excessively there?”

"Not an umbrella; a sunshade. I hope I do not offend you, but your skin is tanned from the sunshine, like mine and my men, darker than I remember your father's being, but not by so much. However, in these times, status in the Central Kingdom is often shown by paleness of complexion. I have several creams and powders I plan to sell there to disguise darker hues or lighten the skin in other ways. Your family, being medium in tone like your father, should not despise you. Only a man like the other Silver Dagger would turn you away."

"Oh?" says Smoke Cat, mildly interested. "There is another man with the same name as my father?"

The caravan leader seems embarrassed to have spoken at all, but as it is clearly her wish, he continues. "Your father, he drank too much, and was not always fair in business, but he was not above us. This other man appeared from the north some years ago, pale as the moon and immediately got himself appointed Noble Official of the Court. He is rich and clever. And also, Lady, he is dangerous."

Despite Smoke Cat's inner conviction that decent relatives ought to accept her regardless of her ethnicity, social status, or attire, she allows herself to be garbed and painted with makeup before she sets out on the final segment of her search. In this quest, however, she insists on going alone.

Jason, or Jonas, now, as the caravan has stopped at the Celestial City's edge, persists in following her to make sure that she is well received.

Finally, she backtracks after rounding a corner and catches him. "What are you doing?" demands Smoke Cat Watching. "Besides making me look ridiculously conspicuous?"

"I may be a stranger here, but I know cities and you don't," Jonas retorts. "I'm willing to relinquish care of you to a responsible citizen, but a girl like you shouldn't be left to wander wherever."

She sighs. "You're making me nervous." And she gestures to a small park full of fluttering wings. "You're even making the birds nervous."

He stares blankly at her. "I fail to see how the behavior of a bunch of pigeons is germane."

"Doves, they're mostly doves," she corrects him, an odd tone in her voice. "All right," she offers, "you can accompany me until I find the house where I was born. It should be in a middle-class area, but I doubt either my father or my family is still there."

"Why do you think that, and if so, why go there?" Jonas asks.

"Weasel Has Two Tails will have had another den. But I must make certain anyway," she says mostly to herself.

Jonas is confused. "I thought he was called..."

Smoke Cat interrupts him, shushing him violently.

"Don't say that name here. In the shops, I heard it whispered in association with bad luck."

He whistles low. "And this is the man you're going to see?"

"I sincerely hope not," she replies. "I would prefer a dead father to him."

Indeed, Smoke Cat is right; she has no trouble sensing the way to her exact birthplace, but an elderly couple now lives there, with no knowledge of her parents. She sits for a time to quiet her mind. "Toward the palace," she says softly.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Jonas remarks.

"I know. Yet, you may not come with me any farther. When I locate the front door, I will send you a bird, a dove. If all is well, it will roost on you, coo, and then go about its normal avian business."

"Right," Jonas says sardonically, but Smoke Cat continues talking.

"It will do this because I ask it, and because it will recognize you as another of its kind. Jonas means "dove" and this city is steeped in magic."

"Great," says Jonas and now the sarcasm drips from the word. "My parents told me it meant "Gift of God"..." he mutters.

"It means that, also," she affirms. "I will send you another bird every morning and night. If... if all is not well, it will act agitated and create a fuss."

As Smoke Cat Watching progresses, she enters a neighborhood with wide avenues, tall doors, and enclosed courtyards and gardens. There will, logically, be servants here. The shaman tries not to let this unsettle her, though she has no idea how to deal with servants, never having seen one before.

In the end, the problem is taken out of her hands. Just after releasing the dove to let Jonas know that she has safely reached her destination, the ornate door Smoke Cat stands before is opened, and in the wake of the lackey sweeping the steps, Silver Dagger strides forward. Smoke Cat immediately recognizes him as the man from the vision that Blue Turtle helped her conjure, only older, balder, and an unhealthy milky white. Unexpectedly, he makes an ancient sign to repel ghosts, angry ones.

When she fails to vanish, her father examines more closely the young woman standing in his vestibule. "By the Heavens, you look just like her! But I forget my manners. Come in, come in at once, my child, and get out of this glaring sun." He does not add, "before someone sees your dark skin," but the implication is apparent in his tone. "You must be quite weary after your long journey, and we must instantly arrange for your rest and comfort. I, of course, am your esteemed parent, Silver Dagger."

He bows to her several times, as the servants scurry this way and that in response to various orders given out in a silky, but nonetheless carrying, voice. "As I recall, your mother used to call you ‘Kitten’, but that cannot be your name now."

"No," replies Smoke Cat. "I have been informed that my full name is Lady Silver Smoke Cat Watching. It is, however, a bit unwieldy for daily usage." She smiles to the perfect degree to match his bow, mentally assessing him as he sizes her up in turn.

Silver Dagger laughs melodiously. "How may I then address you, as you are my closest of kin, but also a stranger? It is difficult to know the niceties of what one should do."

The young shaman is suddenly loath to tell him of her magic, or why she undertook this errand in the first place. But she literally cannot afford to entertain such silly qualms; she needs the money.

Mistaking her slowness to answer for shyness, her ‘esteemed parent’ proposes a diplomatic course. "I shall simply call you ‘daughter’. Now, my daughter," he croons, "you must retire to your divan, but at dinner you shall meet your half brother and sister; then, of course, you must tell us all about your travels, and what brings you to us at this blessed hour."

As Silver Dagger leaves her at the doorway into her... bower seems to be the word... Smoke Cat Watching restlessly roams the apartments. The furnishings are lovely, the plants in the garden beautiful, but there are too many walls. In fact, there is only a sole exit.

Through her latticed window, Smoke Cat sees an armored young man arrive in the courtyard. Perhaps she should term him a boy, because when the youth is divested of his armor, he is considerably slighter, not yet come into his full growth or bulk. This is more than padding can account for. Magic is at play.

Either the boy has magical talent, or it has been instilled into the armor by his father or a hired wizard. Smoke Cat also notices that her half-brother is by no means as pale as their father. In the shadows across the yard, the shaman's keen eyes pick out another figure, a girl, hidden behind a wooden mesh similar to hers. It is difficult to tell much of anything about her as she is almost entirely covered in blue cloth, but her face shines cloud white. Perhaps their mother's skin was of a medium complexion and her son inherited it?

When it is time to dress for dinner, Lady Silver Smoke learns that it is the servants' duty to fuss at young females and make them punctual with a maximum of arm flapping and exclaiming about the hour. Since she only has one dress that is "suitable", Smoke Cat is given to understand that she shall not crease or crinkle it by excessive wearing, at least until new garments can be obtained. She does not know that the tirewoman only dares to act so boldly with this uncivilized foreign visitor.

Finally, her recently discovered family is arranged in the dining area: her father, her stripling brother Silver Fox, and behind yet another openwork screen, her young sister Summer Wind. Apparently, this is their normal means of convening, for when Smoke Cat suggests that she should eat with her sister, Silver Dagger immediately forbids it. This is not a custom for guests, he explains, but only for unmarried girls, observed in the northern hill country of his second wife's Paleyit people. The child herself says nothing.

They are attractive progeny, and Smoke Cat complements her host on their beauty, especially that of Summer Wind, although her face still retains that slightly unfinalized look of the early teen. "They resemble their mother," is all Silver Dagger will say on the matter. "Now, why have you come so far to stay with us, my daughter?" asks their father.

It is time to commit. The shaman replies carefully, "I possess some degree of magic, and left untrained that can prove to be a dangerous thing."

"Indeed," agrees her father neutrally.

Smoke Cat Watching senses hostility, but she must press on. "It is my wish, therefore, to attend the Arcane Academy near the vast desert to the south."

"Alas, my daughter," says Silver Dagger. "This is not to be. It is very proper in you to seek my permission and advice, but I cannot allow it. Women are unfit to wield magic. Such that do so contrary to their sex are invariably evil, and these witches are everywhere outcast. This will not be my eldest daughter's fate. In private lessons you will learn to suppress this unnatural trait."

"What???" Smoke can't believe her ears and surges to her feet. "Are you serious?" she asks incredulously.

"Sit down this instant!" Silver Dagger commands, and reluctantly, aware of being a guest in his home, she resumes her seat. "No one will demean me by implying I sired a witch!"

Smoke Cat receives support from an unexpected quarter. Her brother, Silver Fox says, "And she is so disgracefully tan. She must not be allowed out of the house while she is here. It would be better if she just went away as soon as possible."

At first the shaman is inclined to write the boy off as a prejudiced fool like his father, but upon reconsideration, isn't that exactly what she wants? Smoke Cat will find work somewhere to finance her Academy hopes in some other way, far from here!

"That... bears some consideration, my son," Silver Dagger muses. "You show vestiges of wisdom. Very well, I will decide in one week's time. Either she may remain here and be taught proper manners... if that is even possible... or she must leave and never return.

 Smoke Cat Watching's blood runs cold when her father uses the words "never return". She must tread warily so that he is not tempted to dispose of her permanently, for she now has no doubt that Silver Dagger has powerful magic, too. But there is still the hope of at least communicating her troubles to Jonas, by sending him a distressed dove. Dinner, however, is not yet over, and holds more surprises.

"We will begin at once," her father says, "to do something about that lamentable complexion of yours." And taking out a white powder, he dusts it over some kind of treacly sweetmeat. "Eat that," Smoke Cat is ordered, and finding she has no other options, she complies.

Her eyes widen. "Arsenic?" she chokes. "Poison?"

"In small doses it is largely harmless, but only whitens the skin," Silver Dagger says in that satiny smooth voice of his. No wonder he is so pale. There is something else in the mixture, as well, however, and it makes her feel dreamy and muzzy. Soon Smoke Cat is nearly limp with sleepiness.

For the first time the girl behind the screen speaks, "She's not used to opium like us; you've given her too much."

Not one to be questioned, however, Silver Dagger only smiles. "Consider it a lesson."

The next morning, Smoke Cat awakens in her bower and is instantly seized and scrubbed and polished until she thinks the intent is to lighten her skin by removing it entirely. She is still allowed to retreat periodically to her little enclosed garden, and there she agonizes over her message doves.

Everything is NOT all right, but it may be that she can talk her way out of this, or that the situation will resolve by the week's end. Definitely, she does not want to involve Jonas any further in her troubles unless it truly cannot be helped. Therefore, Smoke Cat Watching sends a calm dove to perch on his shoulder. No dove will have come at all last night; she simply had no opportunity. However, hopefully, Jonas will not fly off the handle until he receives this morning's information bird.

Deportment, the shaman soon realizes, is her father's code word for abject submission while maintaining the appearance of grace. Silver Dagger's every whim is to be immediately obeyed, without falter. In the meanwhile, she balances objects on her head to teach her poise and how to limit her physical freedom to tiny mincing, but gliding, steps. And then there are her creams, and lotions, and medications, to try to repair the damage wrought by life spent on the plains and largely in the saddle.

She is taught the rudiments of how to make up her own face and achieve several different complex hairstyles, although it is likely that she will always have a servant to do this last chore. They pierce her ears, which, after the first biting pain, is more of a nuisance. Whenever she becomes recalcitrant, mention of her father silences her. Since that first dinner, Smoke Cat has not seen him, but conversation with her siblings is still next to impossible, although they look wistful about this when she sees them at mealtimes; it is clear that they are always being watched and interrupted.

On the third morning Smoke stops simply reacting like a filly being groomed and broken to bridle and asks herself why? So that she will not embarrass the family is insufficient reason when the same end could be achieved by just sending her packing. No, fillies are groomed for show. In this culture, she will never do the equivalent of using her own magic to race, so the only thing left... is to breed. Smoke Cat is getting an intensive course on how to be a good little bride, wife, and mother.

This does not sound so sinister until one reflects that she, Smoke Cat Watching, is to have absolutely no say in the matter. Ever. She has, of course, already tried climbing the garden walls, but even were they not as slick as ice, they only lead back into other parts of Silver Dagger's home. And when she tests the handle of the main door in the evening, it is always locked with a spell complicated enough to keep her in until her father can arrive. Not knowing what else to do, the shaman dances.

Smoke Cat Watching dances a long time. On the last occasion, her spirit animal sought her out; now she seeks it for advice. Finally, a small black domestic cat appears on the top of her bower wall. The shadow it casts is enormous, truly the size of her namesake. It blinks its yellow eyes at her.

Swiftly and flatteringly, so as not to bore its inner feline nature, Smoke Cat begs for help in knowing what to do. The creature yawns. "Smoke rises," it tells her. "You will find a way." And with that cryptic utterance, it becomes merely a normal alley cat again.

The shaman, to be honest, had hoped for more concrete ideas, but at least this much renews her hope. She will rise and find a way. Although she is exhausted, the young woman reinspects every inch of her garden and door lock.

Then there is much to do to make herself presentable. Her father, Silver Dagger, will be at dinner tonight and will evaluate her progress so far. Smoke Cat does not know whether intractability or meekness will serve her best. She has absolutely no desire to remain in the Central Kingdom’s capital city as some man's trophy wife, but neither does she wish to be found floating face down in a koi pond, too full of opium to care. This, apparently, was how her siblings became motherless at such a tender age. The servants gossip, and Smoke has keen ears.

Before it is actually time to eat, Silver Dagger takes his eldest daughter aside and imparts various things to her. He is gratified by Smoke Cat's diligence in her lessons, and though her obedience is deficient, that will be learned over time. Therefore, he has invited a guest to share their meal, a member of the Seo Hán Nì nobility.

She is, of course, to be on her best behavior. There is no need for her to know his name; Smoke Cat Watching will address him only as Honorable Sir, and likewise speak only when spoken to. Her complexion is still sadly too dark, but this particular elderly gentleman is short sighted and the room will be dimly lit, so this is no cause for despair. If, however, she should fail to please the man in question, there will be other suitors later when she has had longer to become... acceptable.

During the meal, Smoke Cat feels as though she is stumbling through a nightmare and has her doubts about the contents of the incense burning in the dining area. The man, Honorable Sir, is not disagreeable, exactly, but he will not stop talking for even one instant. And, although he will chat about other small topics, his favorite subject matter is himself. Granted, he does have a lot of history built up; he must be well over 60 years old, and he has never married. Yet now he judges he must have an heir, a legacy.

All of her shamanic patience is called into play simply to avoid screaming and running from the room when she contemplates life spent with Honorable Sir, or another of his ilk. Smoke Cat steals glances at her half brother and sister. On the boy, Silver Fox's face, there is a hint of relief, as though this might have been more disastrous, still. Yet the normally placid countenance of Summer Wind is wearing an expression of barely disguised horror, when she thinks no one is peering at her lattice.

Poor child, it is a glimpse into her future. This will be her fate, next, and she has no other home to escape to unless her mother's kin in the high northern hills will take her in. But Smoke Cat's priority must remain her own freedom, regaining it and retaining it. Then, perhaps something can be done for her younger sister. As soon as she can, therefore, she must escape. Having no plan is worse than even the craziest idea. In a flash, something comes to her that might work. She will try tonight.

In the end, she doesn't get the chance to try out her gambit that night, after all. Out comes the tray of comfits, glazed with opium and arsenic, and she is compelled to eat her share, although the concentration is thankfully much lower, either out of consideration for her, or due to a fear of overdosing Honorable Sir. Smoke Cat Watching maintains just enough composure to go out into the garden when she returns to her bower, and she muzzily sends a positive dove to Jonas, hoping that she will meet him in that small park soon.

The following evening, the fourth night since entering her father's house, Smoke Cat is once again summoned to dinner. But no one else is present. Silver Dagger tells her that her brother is performing some minor commission for him in the north, and that he simply did not require Summer Wind.

"She is too young, although she is already very fair and pretty as well. However, she lacks your maturity and understanding." When his daughter makes no comment, Silver Dagger continues, "I hope that she will learn astuteness from you as you absorb the necessity of obedience from her example."

As some kind of response is clearly anticipated, the young shaman, reminding herself that she may never need to say the words again, replies, "Yes, Father." He grabs her chin and stares into her eyes.

"Perhaps you are too intelligent for your own good, after all," he murmurs. "I cannot always tell if you are lying or not." And now Silver Dagger sounds truly petulant. "However," he brightens, "there are means of causing pain that leave neither mark nor incapacity. You would do well to remember that you are not the only magic worker in the family."

Smoke Cat's eyes flash; this is too much! "Do you want to test my skills against yours?" she flares, unsure herself of whether she is bluffing.

Her father laughs. It is not a pleasant sound. "Don't be a fool!" Moving his grip to the back of her neck he pushes her down into a chair. "Here is what you will do, exactly. You will not deviate one iota from my plans for you. First, you will complete your lessons. When you are finished, you will marry a man of my choosing. You will be a proper and respectable wife until you become a proper and respectable widow. Then... we will see."

She gulps. "I am to be married off advantageously."

"Obviously," her father chuckles. "My status will increase through marriage into the family I select and grow still more when I become guardian of your children."

Smoke Cat Watching has a shaman's open mind, but she does not believe that ‘Honorable Sir’ will ever sire an heir. Apparently, this is not an obstacle in her father’s mind, however.

Her skepticism must have shown in her face, for Silver Dagger once again leans over her. "The deal is understood. I provide a demonstrably fertile bride, who will get pregnant, discretely, until a son is born."

As soon as Smoke Cat is left alone in her bower, she implements her plan. A swift application of the flower cutting scissors, the only sharp object she's allowed, and the silk dress is in shreds. Strips, more accurately, which she then ties together with her most secure knots. Yes, it will reach.

Next, she drags her makeshift rope over to the tumbling miniature stream and renders it thoroughly sodden. Wet silk will not break. Choosing her heaviest and sturdiest hair skewers, Smoke Cat affixes these to each end, praying that they will act as grappling hooks in the tile roofing on the other side of her garden wall. Lastly, she clumsily fiddles with the door’s lock to raise the alarm. Once outside again she throws each end up as high as she can and jumps. She scrambles astride her semi-tight rope just in time.

Presently her father strides through her… enclosure, his gaze dismissing the empty suite, the silent garden with its one ornamental tree much too small and slender to hold her weight. But no one thinks to look up. And Smoke rises. After a certain amount of milling around, the guards and servants disperse again, and finally, every limb aching from dangling above their heads, the shaman drops lightly to the ground. Now she must find her way out of the maze of corridors in Silver Dagger's house.

Avoiding the sound of voices as best she can, Smoke Cat Watching soon finds herself in the servants' quarters. That's fine; servants must come and go as well. But there are many of them, and not all are involved in hunting for her, so she is forced to backtrack again and again until she is not sure where she is. Suddenly, she is at the junction of three halls, facing an unprepossessing, but extremely solid-looking door. The young shaman does not need to touch it to feel the dark magic it emanates.

Similarly, she knows that she is trapped even before she hears her father's voice behind her. "I see you have found my vault," he remarks. "I keep my most precious objects in here. It would appear that you, my child, have just volunteered to join them." Minutes pass as he undoes the locks, mechanical and magical, and then ushers her inside.

Smoke Cat holds up her head as she turns to face him. "What about air? Water?"

"Make them yourself; your pitiful spells won't harm anything in here." Silver Dagger’s sneer is by far the ugliest expression she’s seen cross his face.

There are times when a woman just has to sit down, assuming there's a floor, and have a good cry. Now is definitely one of those times for Smoke Cat. Conjure air, so that when her nose gets stuffy she doesn't imagine things and panic, and then go ahead and sob. The tears ground her in the moment. Fear about the future is still there, but more distant. And the saline helps keep the past that threatens to sap her strength, here in the darkness, at bay. Yet eventually teeming eyes run dry.

Becoming a shaman is more than a series of magical proficiency tests; it is physically, mentally, and emotionally rigorous as well. Smoke Cat took hers when she was barely 15, mere days after the passing of her elderly mentor, the previous shaman of Sun Horse Clan. Undergoing the ordeal then was clearly a poor choice, and she knew it even at the time, but Smoke’s grief wouldn’t allow her to sit still. Besides, she despaired of ever receiving any additional tuition. After failing, she tried again and succeeded brilliantly, at 16.

Most rites of passage among Tishatayo clans involve turning the one coming of age out into the wilderness with very little for several days and nights. To be a shaman, you start with nothing but the sacred totems in your hair and stay gone for seven days. This trial, especially the dismal first attempt, now comes back to haunt Smoke Cat Watching in the void of the vault. She doesn't bother to produce light, for knowing the exact dimensions of her prison would only depress her further.

In any such test, there are pitfalls, magical and otherwise, to trip up the inexperienced and unwise. Yet the hopefuls are also monitored in case they get into trouble too deep to extricate themselves from. This is, of course, left up to the judgment of the instructor. For Smoke Cat, her teacher had set up the circumstances that hers would include before the old man’s death.

On her initial attempt, she took shelter from a torrential rainstorm that was about to sweep her into the gullies, inside a stone cave. Smoke Cat, however, was even then Watching and did not wake the bear. She was rescued after backing off the ledge, falling several yards into thorn bushes, and acquiring an infected eye, and a broken ulna. But all of that healed fine and wasn't so bad, really.

It was during the second try when, running from an angry moose, she dove into an old badger den. This, then, proceeded to collapse. For a girl raised on the plains, very little is worse than being buried alive. She waited for what seemed like hours for someone to come and help her. Finally, face splotchy and muddy from tears at that time, too, Smoke Cat began to dig herself free, magically baking the loosened mud into bricks to reinforce her hole. Dig. Shape. Bake. Stack. Hyperventilating and hysterical the whole time. However, if she had survived that, she would find a way now, and Smoke would rise.

Smoke Cat does not know how long she has been in the darkness of the vault; she has conjured water a few times and slept once. She is exceedingly hungry because food made of thin air tends not to be terribly filling. The worst part is the periodic and unpredictable claustrophobic panic attacks.

She is rocking silently and trying not to cry again when she hears a sound. There have been none since Silver Dagger's departure. So, it is a welcome sound to the shaman, even though it's only someone scrubbing the floor. And cooing like a dove? Jonas!

"Can you hear me?" he whispers.

She puts her head close to the largest keyhole. "I thought you had gone north. You said you were only going to stay a week..." she sniffs.

"And you said you'd continue to send doves until I left," he teases.

"Well, I did miss one once, and you didn't come charging to the rescue," she says, a tiny bit of vigor returning to her voice.

"One dove could be an accident. Three in a row? That's trouble. I came as quickly as I could." A brush plops into a bucket. "Your father doesn't stop to notice whom he might be kicking down his steps and commanding to scrub his entire mansion, does he?"

A fear grips Smoke Cat. "Jonas, can you find your way out again while hiding me? Can you even get me free?"

"Oh yes," he replies. "Although I'm going to have to finish the floors," Jonas adds in a dark mutter. "And I can get you free... of the vault. You'll have to trust me."

"I do trust you," she says simply. "What must I do?"

"Well, you'll have noticed a blue pin I wear at my belt. It isn't a particularly fine stone, or it wouldn't have been staked, but the thing is that it used to hold a genie." Smoke Cat waits for more explanation. "It's still enchanted to house a magic worker," he says.

"Any magic worker?" the shaman asks, beginning to see the plan.

"Yes, as long as they submit to the rules of djinn kind; they get the powers inherent with being a genie, commensurate to their own magical potential, but they are slaves to the stone until someone wishes them free."

Smoke Cat takes a deep breath. "All right," she says, "let's do it. I assume it will work with you out there and me in here?"

"Yes, you repeat the words of the ritual vow, and it's done," Jonas answers gravely.

There is a moment after this has been done when nothing perceptible happens and Smoke Cat is conscious of disappointment. Then she remembers the words of her spirit animal a few nights before and is still considering that this might be what her guide meant when overwhelming vertigo seizes her. If she had thought to make light, she would undoubtedly have felt extremely nauseous at the sight of the room spinning fast, as she becomes a tornadic whirlwind of cloudy vapor, narrowing into a stream.

The shaman turned semi-genie experiences a rush of light as she whooshes through the door lock, zeroes in on the blue gem at Jonas's waist, and in some way that she doesn't understand merges with its matrix. It is like standing in a domed oval room paneled entirely with translucent blue glass.

"Are you all right?" whispers Jonas anxiously. But Silver Smoke the slave of the gem has no way of answering because she has not been properly summoned. Eventually he realizes this and rubs the jewel.

"Yes," she replies as soon as she materializes, "Master." The word is a reflex. "It is too risky to talk now, but we must establish some rules about this, and soon!"

"All right. But are you sure you're well? You look pale." His concern is touching but now is not the time or place.

"Please, Master, my skin tone is a long story. Can we go now?" Silver Smoke the semi-djinn is absorbed back into the magical stone as Jonas resignedly continues cleaning the floor.

In many ways, being inside the blue pin is similar to imprisonment in her father's vault. There is light, and air, and space, so Silver Smoke suffers no panic attacks. Apparently, genies feel neither hunger nor thirst, hot nor cold; likewise, she is unaware of any sense of motion and time is pleasantly immeasurable. However, the incorporeal shaman cannot see out or hear anything happening around her, and this is unacceptable. She still has no clear notion regarding her future, and she is NOT free!

At nightfall, in the little park where they once noticed all the upset doves, Jonas takes her out of the broach once more. He is prepared for anything from profuse thanks to a raving tirade. Smoke’s response, however, surprises him.

"This is fascinating," she says. "Master, and oh yes, we need to discuss that terminology. But I'm learning so much. It's like teaching a child to swim by tossing them into deep water." She pauses for breath, "How may I serve you, Master?" comes out involuntarily.

"Firstly," Jonas answers kindly, "you may call me by name, or Jason if we are not alone. Secondly, you may tell me your long story, at your own pace and in your own way. And thirdly, you may furnish me with a list of requirements needed to make your existence in there tolerable for you." He hesitates. "Do I have to wish for all of that?"

Silver Smoke contemplates. "Much of it, yes Master, I'm afraid must be achieved by wishing. But why not just wish me free, now that you have rescued me?"

"Well, because you are not completely rescued yet. I've been finding out that your father is an extremely politically and socially powerful man. If you were to appear tonight at the gates of the city, in the flesh, you'd be back in that vault by morning," he cautions her.

"I see," Smoke says, slightly mollified. "It is better that I stay hidden like this for some while, then." She looks him deep in the eyes. "Did you always mean to take me north with you?"

Jonas shifts uncomfortably. "I confess, I hoped you'd agree to come."

Silver Smoke, who cannot currently consider herself Smoke Cat due to the genie jewel’s magic, is just about to return to it when a small animal comes trotting up the park path straight towards them. It is a grey fox. Suddenly it shifts, becomes a silvery mist, and then a young man stands before them.

"My brother," says the shaman warningly for Jonas/Jason's benefit.

Silver Fox extends his hands palms up in greeting and supplication. "Father doesn't know," he tells them. "I trust you with my secret so that perhaps you will trust me in return. On my honor, you are safe."

Jonas remains wary and does not introduce himself. "How did you find us, and if you do not come from your father, what do you want?" he asks.

"I traced your scent from the house," the boy answers. "My ears and nose are very keen. I wasn't followed." He gazes beseechingly at his sister. "And what I want," he continues, "is your help, from both of you."

The escapees look at each other, somewhat taken aback by this. Silver Fox rushes forward with his explanation, encouraged by their silent surprise. "I will aid you all I can; I brought gifts!" He offers them two tiny, extraordinarily realistic carvings: a white dove and a smokey black big cat.

His sister recognizes instantly what they are. "These are animal essences," she explains. "They will allow us to transform as he does."

"Let me guess," Jonas mutters, "I'm the dove. How did you, of all people, know?" The youth flushes, not sure if this is criticism or praise.

"Smoke Cat was easy, of course, and I heard her speaking to the doves once or twice in her garden. I made this hoping that it would be appropriate for her hidden ally."

His elder sister smiles reassuringly. "They are handsome presents," she says, "but you still have not told us what sort of assistance you require of us. We are fugitives ourselves."

"You escaped from Father's vault," he states gravely, "and it gave me hope. Perhaps you can also save my sister, Summer Wind."

"Is the screen she lives behind so great a barrier, then?" the shaman asks.

"It is. Because she is not in Silver Dagger's house. There is a matching screen in the mountain fastness of the sorcerer, Mourning Cloak, and that is her true location."

"The same evil sorcerer who dwells in the north?" Jonas exclaims. "Your little sister is the legendary princess in the tower?"

"Yes," confirms Silver Fox, "although she is not yet technically a princess until she inherits our mother's title."

"And Father just gave her to the sorcerer?" Smoke demands.

Concurrently, Jason the would-be hero murmurs, "I don't suppose her hill folk would pay to get her back?"

The shaman/genie gives him a withering glance. "What a singularly stupid thing to say... Master. We cannot simply leave her there, not knowing what horrible fate lies in store for her at her captor's hands!"

Jonas sighs, "I know. I know." He grins charmingly, "However the money would have been nice."

"I do not mean to intrude," says her brother diffidently, "but we know exactly what Mourning Cloak intends. He's a very close associate of Father's, and supplies most of his magic to him. They both consider themselves collectors of rare objects," Silver Fox explains. "Mourning Cloak provides Silver Dagger with powerful arcane paraphernalia, and in exchange Father sends the sorcerer various drugs..."

"And women," finishes Silver Smoke darkly. The youth's expression is grim.

"Only Summer Wind, so far. You would have been next. My mission in the north was to fetch an escape-proof carriage to convey you to his fortress. Luckily, Mourning Cloak himself never leaves his mountain."

"No offense to you or your sister," Jonas says contemplatively, "but why you two in particular? I mean, there are lots of women in this city alone, and it doesn't sound like your father would object to kidnapping a few strangers."

Smoke thinks she can guess, but it is Silver Fox who answers, "Both my sisters have very powerful magic in their blood. Mourning Cloak is not interested in ordinary girls."

Faintly the shaman inquires, "And Honorable Sir?"

"I think he must wait, or perhaps he was merely a test of your tractability," her brother responds.

From Silver Smoke's genie perspective, the journey north is delightful. She can now see and hear outside of the stone, although the world is tinted blue, and when she wants to emerge from the pin, she warms the jewel until Jonas notices the temperature change and rubs its surface.

As he begins to catch glimpses of the tower from afar, Jason the hero ransacks his brain and his bag of magic tricks to cobble together a strategy for getting into the fortress. Hopefully, getting out would be as simple as reversing the process, but he won't count on that. Key to these plans is a rope acquired from a fakir that unwinds itself into the air and can carry the weight of several men with no support whatsoever. He judges that it will reach at least up to the lowest balcony.

There seem to be no guards, neither human nor animal, which implies the presence of magical booby traps and alarms. To neutralize these, Jonas will need inside help. Happily, he has an accomplice who is able to float like a cloud and is knowledgeable about magic. From there, all they have to do is find and liberate Summer Wind; this might prove difficult, of course, but it is impossible to arrange to deal with every single contingency. So, they wait for a clear yet moonless night and try it.

And it goes well, very well indeed. The lowest accessible level proves to be the kitchens, and there is a small fire burning in the hearth. Summer Wind herself is searing toast and boiling an egg. When she sees the face of her half-sister ascending over the railing of the balcony, the young girl is quite brave, and neither screams nor faints. She does, however, drop the toast into the fire and overturn her pot of water.

"Oh, thank the Heavens," she breaths. "You did come! I hoped you would! He's been absolutely livid since your escape. Unspeakably foul and nasty tempered. I could go on, but you've met him. Please tell me you've come to kill him."

At this point, Jonas climbs over the balustrade and into the room. "Kill Mourning Cloak? I wouldn't know how. Can't we all leave now and save the introductions and explanations for later?" whispers Jonas urgently.

Summer Wind looks searchingly from one face to the other. "Mourning Cloak? Then you don't know... I can't go."

The girl appears to be close to tears, so her older sister prompts gently, "Why can't you go?"

"Your... friend there is right. I spoke rashly before. Probably he can't be killed as Mourning Cloak. However, as Silver Dagger he has vulnerabilities that can be exploited. And I'm the only one who knows the truth," Summer Wind sniffs.

"Only one evil wizard, then. He's the same man," sums up Jonas.

"Yes," Summer Wind confirms. "Not even my brother is aware. He keeps us all drugged with opium, but living here, I can't avoid noticing." She straightens her shoulders and lifts her chin. "And now it is my duty to stay here and allay suspicion until you can return to the Celestial City and kill him there."

Smoke feels that she is missing something. Why is their father's death so necessary to obtain her sister's freedom? Does Summer Wind feel an obligation to save the world from Silver Dagger/Mourning Cloak’s wickedness? It seems like a lot of responsibility for a 14-year-old to expect herself to take on. She says as much to the girl.

"No, it’s all because of the wand, of course. It makes him nearly invincible, but it cannot be carried too far from the cave on this mountain where Father found it. Yet, as long as Mourning Cloak can access the wand, I'll never escape no matter where I go. He has plans for me." She sounds tired. "For both of us now, my sister, if he recaptures you; and with the wand, he might be able to do that."

Not bothering to ask what wand she’s referring to, the djinn Silver Smoke makes an impulse decision. "We won't leave you here. Can you hide us without too much risk?"

"Yes, I think so,” the teenager decides, “but you must work absolutely no magic while you are here, or the alarms will go off and a sticky webbing will materialize to hold you in place."

"Not a problem," Jonas says wryly. "I don't have any."

"How brave of you to come, then," effuses Summer Wind, and he almost doesn't cavil at squeezing into the low chest in the room she leads them to. "I would enjoy talking more with my sister today," the girl adds. "May I borrow the blue pin if I promise to return it just as it is now?"

"These were my mother's rooms during the brief time that she lived here," Summer Wind tells her elder sister. "Father never, ever, comes here, so I've been able to save some of her things..." and walking to a silk folding screen which hides half the room, she reveals a large portrait.

"Did you paint this?" Smoke inquires.

"Yes. No one else wants to remember what she looked like except Silver Fox, and his talent is sculpting," the girl replies.

"She's very beautiful. You resemble her." The genie is about to add that she’s quite talented, but with that, Summer Wind throws herself on her sister’s mostly substantial shoulder, and sobs. The stress has just been too great.

"I've been so alone," she says. "Father wants to safeguard my virginity beyond the shadow of all doubt, and so he imprisons me here, without another living soul except for his rare visits."

"What is it with men and virginity?" Silver Smoke asks rhetorically, with some asperity. “It is a rite of passage, nothing magical.”

Summer Wind’s eyes grow wide. "Yes, but Silver Dagger believes that it is and that taking the virginity of a woman with magical power grants you a share of that power for your own. At least if you are a mage."

"He what?? Oh, you poor child! This is his fine plan for you? Perhaps I may kill him after all. He is utterly despicable!" the shaman fumes. "Has he hurt you, Summer?"

"Not... like that. Not yet." She sniffles slightly. "I will be 15 next year and succeed to my mother's title; I think he is waiting for that." Summer Wind blows her nose.

Shaman/genie Silver Smoke sighs. Her instincts still tell her that there is a better way of destroying the threat from Mourning Cloak's wand than simply murdering Silver Dagger, if only she could think of it. Indeed, to attempt to kill for possession of the wand might be exactly what so evil a person would desire. The act would certainly be a very bad step down a dark and twisted road.

"Certainly, we must strike as soon as possible," the elder sister muses. "Our father will still be off balance and unsure from his failure to contain me. Naturally he will seek his talisman of power, his wand. But we cannot take it from him; he must give it away, or lose it, or throw it away. As for the first, it will never happen, and probably not the second, but we might be able to trick him into the third. It's underhanded, but better than murder, I think," she says as an idea gels in her head.

"Well, as soon as possible will be very soon. He is supposed to arrive here tonight," the younger girl contributes.

"Does he trust your... obedience... enough to let you prepare or serve his food and drink?" Smoke asks slyly.

"Yes, there are no servants here, and his magic will be depleted from the journey. Father is not quite an imbecile; he will always eat and rest before laying hands on the wand, lest it possess the mastery over him someday. It’s sentient, or nearly so." Summer Wind shudders.

"Convenient. Can you vastly overdose him into the deepest of sleep?" her sister inquires eagerly.

Jonas has that wonderful ability to sleep wherever and whenever he can, so the sisters must wake him to advise him of the scheme they have devised. Not having had access to his bag of tricks, several details change significantly once he is able to participate in the planning. Jason the hero is really in his element.

Firstly, Silver Dagger need not be drugged so heavily if his bedroom can be prepared before he retires to it for the night. Of course it is locked, but evil tyrants who live in mountain fortresses rarely worry about lockpicks. This reduces the chances of detection or interaction between the medicinal compounds that Summer Wind would have had to mix. After that, her role in the proceedings is to go directly to bed and stay there, out of the way, until she is fetched. She is meant to seem innocent no matter what happens.

Secondly, the concept of a clumsy and possibly ineffective tripwire has been vetoed in favor of a particular treasure of Jonas/Jason's. He has a hole. A portable hole, about 1 foot wide by 2 1/2 feet long by another 1 foot deep. He unwraps it carefully from something resembling an origami folded sheet of heavy paper, but on the back side there is just nothing. It is very strange to look at. This is placed between the carpeting and one of the wooden stairs to Mourning Cloak's elevated bed.

Lastly, the wickedly poisoned knife he owns is propped securely, point up, at the bottom of the hole. And with that, Jason's part has been played for a while, and he studiously considers various hiding places in the room, based on comfort and field of vision offered. Earlier in the afternoon, he wished the djinn Silver Smoke free, and she is human again. He is surprised to discover that this costs him a pang of something like loss, and that once again he is unduly worried about the shaman's safety.

Smoke Cat Watching herself is staking much, possibly her life, on the theory that Silver Dagger is terrified of vengeful ghosts, particularly those of women he has wronged. Upon first encountering her, her father retreated and made a gesture meant to drive away angry or evil spirits. He also refuses to enter the apartments of his second wife and forbids anyone even to speak the name of either former spouse within his hearing. The shaman considers that behavior more than a little obsessive and paranoid.

Of course, Smoke Cat does not resemble Princess Frost Flower all that closely. She does, in fact, have more in common with her cousin Springing Doe and was able to impersonate her better. However, that was before Lady Silver Smoke had learned the miraculous secrets of makeup and hair styling.

Thankfully, her time out of the sun combined with the arsenic and other treatments has left Smoke Cat Watching a lighter and more compatible shade with the deceased northern beauty. Jonas was right; she does look pale. The dress is authentic, as Summer Wind has saved it, and it fits fairly well. Likewise, the jewelry and flowers are correct, and also the hairstyle, although the pins are giving her a headache. The shaman wishes she could dance to pray for poor memory in her father, but nothing is perfect.

At first, Summer Wind, who does look very reminiscent of her mother, wants to assume this charade but not only is it too dangerous, the effort is doomed to fail as the girl is not yet 15 and cannot pass for a grown woman. Hours march by, and Smoke Cat wonders what her father can be up to this late. In truth, he has been researching monks with magical powers, on the premise that perhaps seducing male virginity would convey the same benefits to a female partner, making her stronger to have more powerful children.

Perhaps it is best that Smoke Cat Watching does not know of her father's tipsy aspirations to take over the ruling class of the Central Kingdom and, from there, the whole Seo Hán Nì Empire, with young mages. Incredulous ghosts are not scary. However, Silver Dagger finally weaves his way to bed and falls face down asleep in a heap of pillows and cushions. Silently, she follows him from her hiding place near the door. She lets him sleep until she figures that he has spent just enough time dreaming to be both suggestible and sluggish.

The young shaman has previously found the one null spot where cross ventilation will not blow her about while also remaining in front of those sabotaged bed stairs. She releases a piece of nearly invisible, thin cord that Jason the trickster has given her, and all the windows bang open at once. The frigid mountain winds come shrieking in, creating havoc and swirling bits of detritus everywhere. As designed, this succeeds in waking her father, who, looking up, sees her, unruffled in the midst of chaos.

Silver Dagger does something unexpected, then. Yes, he makes the ward sign against evil spirits, but he also shrieks much like the wind and dives under the bed covers. Mourning Cloak emerges, a much different looking man, brandishing his wand, and comes slowly down the steps towards this ghost who is too persistent for a minor banishing spell. And the carpet gives way under his tread. And the wand sails out of his hand and goes flying. And the sorcerer cries out in pain at his impaled foot.

Smoke Cat Watching, making a flying leap, catches the involuntarily tossed wand, clutches it to herself, and repeats the litany to re-bond with the genie gem. Silver Smoke twirls away into the broach at Jonas's belt and is gone beyond reach. This, of course, focuses all Silver Dagger's ire on him.

But even without his wand, the man is still a formidable sorcerer. Jason counts the seconds, hoping that the poison flowing into his enemy's blood, which should be enough to stop an elephant, will at least slow down the evil wizard.

"I don't know you," Mourning Cloak says, bemused. "But before the end, I will know everything you hold most dear and then obliterate it." His laugh is loathsome. "You seem to have a fondness for my daughter. Give me the gem now, and I will spare her life."

"No deal," says Jonas/Jason, ducking and weaving among the furnishings to present a moving target, as a bare minimum. "I want amnesty for Smoke Cat and a quick death for me, or the jewel flies out the window." It is an absurd thing to say, but it keeps the older man talking instead of spell casting.

The sorcerer is limping badly now and beginning to slur his speech. He snorts. "You waste my time," and he raises his hand to pull down a lightning bolt onto Jonas's head. However, no thunderclap comes. Instead, there is a ringing, as of massive bells, and viscous threads materialize all around the now vaguely pathetic Silver Dagger, winding him in a tight cocoon. He snarls something half intelligible, and the web cords bind tighter and turn rigid.

"I forgot to mention," says Jason the Hero, insouciant in the face of certain death moments earlier, "that we removed the exception to the anti-magic alarm that used to bypass your room."

The defeated wizard has fallen and can only keep his eyes open with difficulty. "This is hate," Silver Dagger murmurs, "this is war."

"Oh really? Get in line," says Jonas, examining the comatose man's pupils, and then turning his back on the ruined bedroom to find Summer Wind's quarters. The young girl is already packing and appears to have been doing so for quite some time.

"Are you planning on taking everything you own?" he teases her.

"My bag is bigger on the inside than on the outside," Summer says offhandedly.

"How did I miss acquiring one of those?" Jonas whistles, impressed.

"Perhaps because I never wagered it," she answers boldly, and then blushes and stares at the floor while sorting clothing. Jonas laughs gently, frantically rubbing at the blue gem. He’s from a large family, but as the youngest, 14-year-old girls are entirely alien to him, especially those raised by evil sorcerers in complete isolation.

No reassuring shaman comes to rescue him, however. Smoke's face, oddly blue, appears in the jewel and tells him only, "You can handle this, hero. You might start by telling her your actual name."

Summer Wind is agonizing between a functional choice that might see use, and a set of decorative clothes that might fetch a fine price. She has already packed her jewelry and those items of her mother's that she cannot bear to leave behind. However, she was given much to keep up the mask of a graceful Seo Hán Nì maiden, and that she doesn’t mind getting rid of.

"May I see?" Jonas asks. Checking her laid out traveling clothes, he tells her, "It's bulkier, but I'd take the dress to sell. If we plan to be somewhere with a decent market, that is. If you'd rather stick to the wilderness, choose neither and get a pot from the kitchen."

"I think," the girl says, "that we'll need to get supplies before we can vanish successfully." She looks up for approval.

"That’s reasonable," he tells her. “And also, wise. My parents named me Jonas. It means "Gift from God", all right?"

"Very well," she replies sagely, and he's sure Summer Wind already knows about the dove reference. "I am Lady Silver Summer Wind. But, while my father still lives, I would rather not use his part of my name; not that I mean any dishonor to my brother who shares our family name, but..." she trails off.

"It's all right," says Jonas. "In public I will ask you to call me Jason... or some new name... so that I can leave my enemies with no true piece of me."

This idea captivates the girl. She grins for a moment and then becomes sober again. "So, you tell your friends your real name?"

"I do," he nods.

"I have never had a friend before, not since I was very small. It's all right, though, because..." Summer Wind trails off and blushes again.

"Because of Smoke Cat?" he comments neutrally.

"Yes, because of my sister. It's new, but I like saying that," she confides.

"We shouldn't dawdle about packing, or she'll be annoyed with us," Jonas remarks. Summer Wind smiles happily.

In the hour before dawn, they bring their packed valuables down to the kitchen and summon Smoke Cat Watching from the genie gem as previously arranged. They estimate that they still have a short while before Silver Dagger comes to and begins to try to struggle out of his bonds, but it is better to be safe.

"I have been studying this... thing. Master Jonas. And in its own way, I think it is studying me," Smoke states without preamble. The djinn’s eyes have deep purple shadows underneath them and, if possible, her pallor is more pronounced than ever; she looks exhausted. Quite obviously, the wand has had a radical effect on the interior atmosphere of the jewel, and its resident magic worker. "It is both very ancient and extremely evil, Master. Jonas. But its power is tied to its place of origin; the farther it is removed from that cave, the weaker it will become." She closes her eyes as though tired and in pain.

"You are not all right," Jonas says sympathetically.

"No," she agrees. "No, Master, I am not. So please, while I am still able to ask it of you, I beg you to take this wand away from me. I offer it willingly... now," and the hand she holds out with the wand across the palm is shaking with effort.

Jonas does not hesitate, and the shaman, relieved of her burden, almost falls into his arms. "I had no idea what we were asking you to do," he apologizes. "If Summer Wind or I had guessed, we wouldn't have trapped you with it."

Summer Wind's eyes are wide; clearly, she is taking in much information on many levels. What she says, though, is, "My sister, time is short, but if you need to rest, then we will make time."

"Thank you, child, I'm much better already. I just need to avoid... touching... that thing." Silver Smoke stops Jonas and Summer Wind as they begin carrying things to the balcony, however. "No, we can't depart from here; we must climb as high as we can. When the wand leaves it, this structure will collapse."

"So, we need to get to bare rock, above the roof, if possible, in order to keep from getting caught in an avalanche," Jonas gulps. "I seem to recall a balcony which almost brushes one of the mountain peaks. From there, the fakir's rope should be able to take us across to the cliff face or lower us to a secure jut of ridge." His companions look at him, then at each other. It is a crazy plan, but neither sister has a better one to suggest. "Well," he sighs, "let's get moving, then, shall we?"

It is a long, long spiral stair, but finally the trio reaches the top. The side of the mountain here is so close that they feel they could almost stretch out from the pinnacle and touch it. However, it is also lamentably sheer. Down one level, things look more promising through the window.

Out comes the levitating rope, manipulated to extend outwards and slightly downward toward the nearest ledge. But it doesn't quite reach. If only they had a real grappling hook, maybe it would hang up and stay, pulling the rope a bit away from the window, but not too far to jump to catch it. Similarly, if Smoke Cat were not completely drained, she could float across and lash the rope to the far side.

Listening to this discussion, Summer Wind seems puzzled. "But why don't I just carry the end myself? This rope doesn't seem too heavy, the wind gusts aren't treacherous, and it's so short a distance that I could have flown it easily even when I was first learning."

Jonas and Smoke Cat are a bit dumbfounded. "You can fly?" asks Jonas, feeling it necessary to state the obvious conclusion.

"Of course, I thought all magic workers could. I absorbed the technique from watching Father when I was only a tiny girl. Mother didn't like it, though, it scared her, so I hid my ability from my parents,” Summer comments with utter nonchalance.

"Then why on earth did you need rescuing," Jonas demands, piqued, "if all you had to do was fly away?"

The young teen merely blinks at him. "Even if Father were not Mourning Cloak... where would I go?"

Interrupting this singularly fruitless conversation before it progresses any further, the shaman suggests, "Let's focus on the problem at hand, shall we, and decide whether we even want to use the rope at all anymore." Silver Smoke is fingering a small white shape, a perfect statuette of a dove.

Jonas blenches. "Oh no! No, no! I am not getting turned into a bird and thrown off of a cliff!" He folds his arms across his chest resolutely.

The two sisters exchange a glance. "I really think it is the best plan," Smoke says soothingly.

"That mountain doesn't look simple to climb at all." Summer Wind is industriously searching through her magical bag for something.

"I just... it isn't that I don't trust you. I just can't!" Jonas says almost pleadingly. Then, "What's in that bottle?"

"Liquid." The degree of detachment in the girl’s voice is almost surreal.

"Liquid?" he repeats scathingly

 "It doesn't translate well," says Summer Wind, "but it won't hurt you, my friend, I promise. You will only become... more malleable. The results are strong, and quick, and we are running out of time; it's past dawn now."

"All right," he replies, handing her the wand. "Let's do it." The feeling is like swallowing molten silver, not unpleasantly so. Before he has time to savor the sensation, Smoke presses the dove figurine into his hand, and suddenly someone is trying to stuff a bird up his nose and into his ears. Or maybe the other way around.

After a brief period of feeling strangely pushed and pulled and reorganized, Jonas opens his eyes and notes that the world is larger and broader than he is used to. He, or his magical companions, or both, have done it; the name Jonas now literally means this particular dove. And he's quite pleased, really.

Reflexively he lifts his head, puffs out his chest, and struts. This last is difficult because he has just realized that he is not merely a fine white dove, but also a fairly drunken bird. "Jonas, are you all right?" asks Silver Smoke the semi-genie, taking the liberty of picking him up when he crosses his feet awkwardly in an attempt to strut some more for her.

"Coo," he sings affirmatively.

"Good," the shaman responds, and she smiles. Summer Wind then asks if he thinks he can fly.

"Coooo?" meaning maybe. There is only one way to find out.

Launching himself into the air, he wobbles, flaps, corrects, and finally figures out what he's supposed to be doing about the time that a stiff breeze comes along, knocking him tumbling. Jonas is very worried that the inevitable landslide and crumbling building will suck him down and out of control. This obstacle, however, is overcome by the two sisters flying and floating one on each side of him to screen out the worst of the windshear. In this way, they make it around the mountain side.

From the far side of the mountain, steadily descending, they hear a cracking, rumbling, booming crash that goes on and on. During the next rest period, Smoke asks her little sister what she will do now. Summer Wind smiles grimly, "I will continue to hide, and go as far away as possible. You don't think that killed him, do you? He had a bolt hole back to the original cave in the mountain; the worst he'll be is buried for a while."

The shaman sighs. "No, I get no sense that he is dead..."