27

"And the next time you saw him?" she asked.

Deeter sighed. The massage was over. "I really would like to just get to sleep, please."

"How can you sleep? Well, I mean, I've got that dope, we can use that later."

"What's dope?"

"A downer, I told you."

He shrugged, using both arms to indicate ignorance, smiling. Timbella rolled her eyes. "Do they have painkillers where you're from?"

"Yes, of course. Different plant tinctures do different things, a few of them kill pain."

"Well, on this planet, one of the painkillers also induces trances. The kind that are indistinguishable from dreams. You can't really move, and your brain works, but you're not quite awake. If you're already tired you can fall asleep pretty easily from that state."

He nodded. "Sort of like wine?"

"Except without the disorientation. I mean, I don't know about you, but if I drink so much I pass out, it's cos I'm super dizzy. But you mean wine only, don't you?"

"Ale doesn't get me as drunk."

"Distillation hasn't been invented where you're from?" At his blank look, she said "I guess not."

"My brother froze wine once to make it more potent. We felt pretty rotten after."

"How did he freeze - oh, you mean just outside."

He laughed. "Yes, not by use of magic. Or electricity."

"Anyway this stuff doesn't give you the headache the next day. Just a pleasant trip to dreamland. But first you have to tell me about - Mike?"

"Mynog."

~

After the first encounter, he was more cautious with the places he went. He still ran into Watchers, but only in the advanced civilizations. So he began to avoid them. Also, as Hypose had pointed out, his jewels went further in "backwards" places. Or, to Deeter, homelike places. He was still cautious and didn't stay anywhere more than three days.

He was getting ready for his second night in a small village. He had paid a farmer in jewels to stay in his barn, and for food. He finished speaking his diary entry, and blew out his candle, and the barn door blew open.

He jumped up. "Who's there?"

The farmer waved at him. "This is Father Fantal," he said apologetically.

Deeter could just make out the second figure. "Yes?"

"I need to speak with you about your immortal soul," the priest intoned.

Deeter sighed. Well, the man was built like a priest, so it was probably safe enough... "All right. Leave us."

The farmer complied, closing the barn door. Deeter sat back down. "Do you do this with every stranger to your village?"

"Not every one, but an angel told me to be aware of you. Or at least, a pale child with pale hair and pale eyes. Perhaps he did not mean you, but you are the only one I have seen in my lifetime."

Deeter frowned. "This angel didn't happen to resemble, say, a very very tall man, not quite as pale as I, with dark hair and dark glasses?"

Fantal gasped. "Yes! Save the glasses. He wore none in my vision."

"Really? What color are his eyes?"

"I - didn't notice. He is an angel, isn't he? Your guardian angel?"

"I don't think I would put it that way."

"No, you wouldn't. He seemed to want to find you, and you seem reluctant."

Deeter sighed. "I'm merely tired. Would you mind waiting till the morning?"

"I'm afraid not," he replied, and spoke an incantation that did not translate. The next thing Deeter knew, he was in a bed, tied up by torn bedclothes.

"What?" Fantal was sitting at a desk, writing with a quill. He turned to Deeter.

"I do apologize, but my instructions were quite clear. I cannot be detained by an unfaithful."

"You cast a drone spell on me? It's worn off." Deeter noticed his bag at the side of the bed. The spell obviously had not penetrated his mind deeply. A true drone would only take instructions literally, rather than interpret them, and he couldn't imagine a command to take his belongings.

"It was supposed to. Now just be patient. I have summoned the angel. You should try to get some sleep." Fantal turned back to his writing.

"Your god is not my god. I think you will be sorry for this."

He paused. "Quiet, please, or I'll cast a hush on you."

"Fine." Deeter had wriggled quite a bit while they spoke, and was quite loose. He didn't want to make any noise now, though, so he tried to simply relax.

It was not long before there was a knock at the door. "It is I, Mynog," said the voice that Deeter remembered all too well.

Fantal jumped up and let him in. "Your Grace," he said, bowing.

It was indeed the Watcher, wearing long white robes even more shapeless than the outfits of Akinal. And glasses-free. "Well done, faithful servant. Leave us for now."

"Yes, your Grace," he repeated, and ran outside, calling out "Be in the cellar!"

Mynog laughed. "Ah, priests. So gullible. Religion is truly a blight, isn't it?" He took the chair where Fantal sat.

"Not mine."

"No, not yours," he agreed. "But as usual, even on your world, the churches have perverted things, and only your people do without them."

"We attend church!"

"But not, I surmise, the same way the peasants do." He shook his head. "Damn, I really would love to have this conversation with you, but it will have to wait. We'll talk on the way back to Shringston, eh?"

"We will do no such thing," Deeter said in his most imperious tone, and pulled his arm out of the makeshift ropes. "I'm not going back."

Mynog groaned. "Not this again. What's wrong with you? Has the royal blood really been so diluted?"

Deeter pulled out his other arm and wriggled out of the now-slack knots. "Call it whatever you like. It interests me not at all." He stood up and picked up his bag.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"As if I would tell you!"

"Point," he conceded. "But you don't actually know either, do you?"

"A billion miles from you sounds good right now."

He snorted. "Good luck with that."

Deeter stared at Mynog, who stared back at him. Green, he noted; Mynog's eyes were green. With his eyes on his, he didn't worry about being seen digging in his bag. But he still felt he should talk. "So the peasants don't like your dark glasses here?"

"Well, they aren't really necessary."

Deeter carefully put one gem each in his hand, and hoisted the bag up. "This has been a delight, as usual, but I really must be going."

"In which case I will take the glasses out," he laughed. At the time Deeter was puzzled by this reaction, but he continued walking out. He didn't want him to see the portal, glasses or no glasses.