“You’ll be as safe with her as you would be with us,” Dong Yao had said on the night Chu Qingnian was to come and fetch Zhen Huixin. “You will also see much more of the world than you would if you never left the Frozen Plums Waterfall.”

“Is she a nice person? Will she hit me?” Zhen Huixin had met Chu Qingnian only once, on the day of Ling Yinfei’s arrival at the waterfall, and her impression of the lady was not altogether favorable.

“Children need to be disciplined from time to time, since you’re all so naughty. But you can report to me later if she hits you too often.”

Chu Qingnian, Zhen Huixin gradually discovered, was just as strict as Bai Shi and Dong Yao, but she was also more attentive. She chided Zhen Huixin for making mistakes, but at the same time tirelessly encouraged her not to repeat them and to do better next time. Another difference between Chu Qingnian and the uncles concerned the uncles’ stance toward Zhen Huixin’s personal appearance. They had never batted an eyelash when she came home sprinkled with mud or with tufts of grass sticking out of her hair; Chu Qingnian demanded that she always present a neat, pretty appearance, no matter the circumstances.

“Do girls absolutely have to look pretty?” Zhen Huixin asked. Dong Yao had never alluded to this side of being a young female; he had merely ordered her to keep her person clean when doing household chores and before going to bed.

“Yes, they do,” Chu Qingnian said curtly, as though she found the question unbearably foolish. “Those useless geezers didn’t teach you anything of worth, I see. We shall remedy that from now on.”

Zhen Huixin enjoyed Chu Qingnian’s martial arts lessons, partly because of the physical benefits - sharper senses, overall better health - and partly because having martial arts skills proved to be fun. They enabled her to, among other things, run faster, jump more lightly, and memorize verses with less effort. In the seven years she spent under Chu Qingnian’s tutelage, Zhen Huixin absorbed a little more than three-quarters of her teacher’s techniques. If Chu Qingnian was satisfied with her discipline’s progress, she did not show it.

Because Chu Qingnian disliked staying put for too long, the two of them traveled all over the country. Zhen Huixin saw most of southern and eastern China, and even visited the small islands off the eastern coast. She listened to Chu Qingnian’s story of the great deserts of the west, and vowed to see with her own eyes someday whether one place really could contain so much sand.

As Chu Qingnian grew older, she also became slightly more crotchety and fault-finding. She criticized Zhen Huixin more frequently and over smaller and smaller transgressions. During these instances, Zhen Huixin was more likely than not to answer back, and quarrels between herself and her teacher became uncomfortably common. It occurred to Zhen Huixin that her teacher might appreciate being alone for a change, after having been accompanied everywhere by a disciple for seven years. However, she was reluctant to confront Chu Qingnian with this conclusion, fearing that in doing so she would ignite another quarrel.

One day the two of them stayed at an inn. While Chu Qingnian was meditating in her room, Zhen Huixin quietly slipped out of the building. Her teacher would not imagine that she had run away until it was already too late.

The most prudent course, Zhen Huixin concluded, was to literally go where her feet took her; that way, Chu Qingnian would find it more difficult to track her down. If she went far enough westward, she might even arrive at the deserts. Enchanted by the image of swirling sand dunes beneath a severe blue sky, Zhen Huixin tucked away the prospects of her teacher’s fury and of the uncles’ disapproval for future consideration. What mattered now was reveling in her very first solitary journey.

Zhen Huixin was careful to avoid isolated pathways or areas with a lot of hiding places. Bandits or other people with evil intentions might think twice about approaching two women, but they would not hesitate to prey on one single girl. This was one facet of her journey that Zhen Huixin simply had to put up with.

She was delighted to have run unexpectedly into Ling Yinfei. He had grown taller, but he was still as kind as he had always been, and was definitely more mature. As she left him, Zhen Huixin hoped they would be able to meet again, and this time for a longer period of time.

A few hours later, she spotted a small building at the edge of an open field, and headed toward it. The day was already sinking into darkness. She found the building to be a dusty temple, the sort that worshipers visited only when they needed to ask a certain favor from the divinities. Zhen Huixin entered the dilapidated building somewhat warily - some of the bandits or other undesirables she had eluded so far might already have taken up residence inside.

The interior reeked of mildew and one of the decorative pillars supporting the ceiling was cracked, but otherwise the temple was presentable enough. Faint starlight shone through double windows on opposite walls. A statue of Guan Yin, the Goddess of Mercy, was seated upon a stone pedestal about four feet high directly in front of the entrance. If the floor behind the pedestal was clean and uninhabited by rodents, Zhen Huixin decided, she would sleep there. Other travelers might pass by and she did not want them to see her, a lone young girl, before she saw them. Her teacher and uncles, had they known, would have been pleased with her caution, if with nothing else.

The floor behind the pedestal was surprisingly devoid of mouse droppings, and was covered with only a thin layer of dust. Zhen Huixin swept some of the dust aside, then sat down and leaned against the pedestal, relieved to finally get her weight off her feet. Very soon her fatigue overcame her and she slipped into a restful sleep, dreaming of the Frozen Plums Waterfall and the hut by the poplar tree.

Sometime later she was roused into wakefulness by sounds coming from the doorway. Several people had come into the temple; they were conversing in low voices and having a debate about something. Rubbing sleep from her eyes, Zhen Huixin drew a deep, silent breath, and focused all her concentration on her hearing.

Judging from their voices, the new arrivals were two men, and they were not in a very jolly mood. There might also have been a silent third person, but if so, Zhen Huixin did not sense them.

“This place is miles away from anywhere,” said the first voice, which was reedy and nervous. “We should rest here.”

“We are safe,” countered the other voice. It was deeper and its owner spoke in a fierce tone. “Why do you find it so difficult to believe? We are discarded, unimportant - no one will bother to harm us, let alone kill us.”

The two men made their way across the floor. They sounded as though they were dragging their feet; to Zhen Huixin, this indicated either lameness or injury. Then the footsteps stopped, and the two men sat down. One of them heaved a mournful sigh.

The first, reedy voice spoke. “Brother Pang, we have been terribly unlucky since that day seven years ago. Perhaps we should quit dabbling in worldly matters, shave our heads and enter a monastery. Then we shall find peace and contentment.”

The man called Brother Pang grunted. “You do it, if you want, Brother Cheng.”

The ensuing silence spun out until drowsiness overcame Zhen Huixin once more. She was, however, determined to stay awake. When the two men fell asleep, she would sneak past them and out of the temple. Better to find another place to spend the night in than to stay under the same roof as two suspicious characters; to her, the men sounded like fugitives.

Cheng said, “I wonder what became of that boy. In his youth Lightning Feet Dong Yao used to do heroic things for the country, but who knows what manner of person he is nowadays?”

“If he is still the man he once was, he might have taken the boy back to his home. I gather the boy and the rest of his family are now dead, after their house got burned down.”

“I felt bad about the whole business. He was just a boy, after all.”

“Yes, I felt bad too - because our job was botched. We should’ve done it successfully had it not been for Dong Yao.”

“Dong Yao probably took care of the boy after his family was gone.”

“Who gives a damn about the boy? And you tend to ramble more in your old age, Brother Cheng.”

From the moment her uncle’s name had been mentioned, Zhen Huixin had been wide awake. Now, recognizing the boy the men referred to as Ling Yinfei, her curiosity soared. Were these men two of the three kidnappers who had abducted Ling Yinfei seven years ago? But what had that bit about his house going up in flames been about? Was it true? And if it was, did Ling Yinfei know?

In her excitement, Zhen Huixin poked her head out from behind the pedestal, determined to take a quick peek at the faces of men whom Ling Yinfei said had worn masks back then. At that very second, one of the men looked at the pedestal, caught sight of her and started in violent astonishment. Zhen Huixin’s heart missed a beat; she withdrew her head hastily. There was a pregnant pause.

“You, behind the pedestal - come out,” growled the man called Pang.

Zhen Huixin rose to her feet and stepped away from behind the pedestal, arranging her face to appear bland instead of guilty. The men, too, had stood up, and she looked directly at both of them, trying to make out as much of their appearance as was possible in the dim light. Despite his thin voice, Cheng was wide across the shoulders, while Pang was tall and thin. Their figures had gone to seed; their flesh, clothed with skin the color of old parchment, hung loosely on their bones. She had, however, been correct on one thing - their feet. Each man discernibly put most of his weight on one foot, as if the other one had been broken and had mended badly.

“Who are you? Why were you spying on us?” Pang barked.

“I was not spying on you,” Zhen Huixin retorted. “I was sleeping here when you both came in. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

“Brother Pang, let her go,” Cheng muttered. “She’s just a little girl, she has nothing to do with us.”

Pang seemed to be pondering his companion’s words, when Zhen Huixin said, “I know what you did. You kidnapped Brother Yinfei seven years ago! Did you burn down his house, too?”

“What did you say?” Pang’s expression became thunderous.

“Are you from the Five Swords Sect? Why aren’t you wearing masks? Have you been ousted?”

With a cry of indignation, Pang sprang forward, his fist flying out at Zhen Huixin – broken foot or not, his movements were nimble. Zhen Huixin evaded his punches, which were quicker than she had surmised; Chu Qingnian’s remark that people with maimed body parts often exercised their other, whole body parts to perfection flashed through her mind. She retaliated with moves of her own - powerful swipes of the open palms meant to repel rather than assail. Pang, paradoxically incensed that she was merely on the defensive, grew more frenzied in his attacks, and ignored Cheng’s repeated entreaties for him to stop. Not wishing to be engaged in a drawn-out fight, Zhen Huixin took a leap backward, ran in a wide circle around Pang, and fled from the temple.

Out in the open, the night was pitch-black - Zhen Huixin suspected that it was the intense darkness that came shortly before dawn. She sped across the field, waiting for the men’s shouts but hearing nothing more than the wind rushing past her ears. Before too long the darkness would lift; she would be able to see better and might locate a village or town where she could lie low for a week.

It had been stupid of her to reveal to the men that she knew about the kidnapping, but she had been overcome by curiosity. That had been one lapse her teacher and uncle would not have approved of. A rueful little smile pulled at one side of her mouth. Other than Chu Qingnian, now she had two more people to steer clear of -

The solid, grassy ground beneath Zhen Huixin’s feet vanished with heart-stopping suddenness. Her throat closed, cutting off her scream, as she tumbled down into nothingness. The fall seemed to last forever. Then her head collided nastily with something, and an all-pervading black, deafening in its silence, swallowed her.

How much time went by before she came around she could not estimate. When she did wake up, the first thing that intruded on her consciousness - and convinced her that she was still alive - was a sharp twinge on her right ankle. The ankle hurt, and felt a little out of alignment. Fighting away the remaining dizziness, Zhen Huixin stirred into a sitting position to survey her surroundings.

The place she was in was poorly lit, and she had been lying on a hard surface. Was she at the bottom of a deep ravine, and would she have to climb her way out? Then, realizing where she was, she went rigid with shock.

She was back inside the small temple. Only this time it was morning, or perhaps halfway toward noon; summer sunlight, motes of dust dancing lazily in its path, shimmered into the building from the half-open door. She had been lying at the base of the pedestal. Of the two men from last night there was no sign.

There was a dull, insistent throbbing near the top of her head. Zhen Huixin raised a numb hand - timidly, dreading the discovery - and touched the source of the pain. Her fingertips informed her that her head sported a small but painful lump, almost certainly acquired from that hard bump before she had passed out. Which was only natural – one did not expect to survive falling into a ravine with just a sprained ankle. The sprain itself would be a terrible nuisance, preventing her from moving around freely, or from even moving at all. She was in a rather bad shape - but all things considered, her situation could have been worse. She hadn’t broken any bones, at least.

Had the men found her unconscious and carried her back to the temple to interrogate her? But then why were neither of them here? Had they been reassured by her sprained ankle, surmising that she would not be able to move from the temple? Had she truly sprained it during her fall, or had the sprain been done deliberately by the men in order to prevent her from escaping?

The door opened wider with a creak, and a shadow darkened the doorway. Zhen Huixin gasped, expecting to see Pang or Cheng loom over her. When she saw who it was instead, her jaw dropped before she could restrain herself.

“It’s you!” she burst out.

The newcomer halted and raised a quizzical eyebrow, but did not say anything.

“You’re that - that - arrogant young master who defeated Iron Ox Zhang yesterday! What are you doing here?”

The young man’s lips curved into a distinct sneer. “You were stupid enough not to look where you were going, and to fall into a ravine. So I carried you to this temple and kicked out the two old losers who were here.”

Zhen Huixin was speechless. He had saved her, and gotten rid of the two ex-kidnappers at the same time? Then she scowled at him. “That’s right, you do love to show off!” she said. “I thank you for your kindness in saving me. Now please leave.”

“Who the hell do you think you are, to order me to do this or not do that? No, I won’t leave. I happen to like it here – this temple is comfortable, if a bit dirty. Throw me out if you object to my being here.”

On top of being injured, she had to bear with taunts from an ill-mannered scoundrel who did not know any better. Zhen Huixin felt she would explode with sheer vexation. “Leave.”

The young man knelt down on one knee in front of her. “In case you missed the fact, let me tell you that you have a sprained ankle, which has to be treated correctly if you don’t want it to give you trouble in the future. Unless you fancy walking with a limp.”

“It’s none of your concern.”

He shrugged. “Suit yourself.” Up close, his hair was even more peculiar – thick and smooth, and it was indeed shot with threads of the purest white. Zhen Huixin experienced a fleeting interest: was he born with that sort of hair, or was it the result of practicing a certain – and perhaps forbidden - technique? The young man continued, “Are you sure you don’t want me to examine your sprained ankle?” He extended a hand toward the injury under discussion.

Not thinking that he might have done so just to goad her, Zhen Huixin whipped out her right hand - her left hand, being on the same side as the lump on her head, felt rather leaden. She repelled his hand with one of Chu Qingnian’s techniques, first driving her knuckles against his inner arm, then switching into rapid, circular movements aimed at blood pressure points.

He yanked his hand back - not from pain, she saw, but from surprise. “What is Chu Qingnian to you?”

“It’s none of your concern, I said. Now will you get out of here?” In the midst of her mounting exasperation, Zhen Huixin was astounded that the young man could name Chu Qingnian simply by observing her technique. Although Chu Qingnian was a highly skilled martial arts fighter, she did not mingle much with the martial arts society. Like her ex-husband, she preferred being alone or with very close acquaintances. Those who had heard of her would not typically belong to the young man’s generation.

“Fine, I’m going.” The young man stood up and whisked his robe aside in a careless, haughty gesture that Zhen Huixin recognized from the previous day. “Perhaps the next time we meet, I can call you Little Miss Lame.” He exited the temple.

Zhen Huixin was consumed by a sudden, childish impulse to grab some heavy object and hurl it after him. He was right, of course - without the correct treatment, a sprain could cause any number of problems, limping not being the least of them. Even so, she would rather deal with those than be indebted to him.

She shook her head. She did not habitually fly into a temper, and behaving rudely to a person who had saved you was more than uncalled for - it was almost a crime. But, she told herself, he had seemed like he had had no need for her gratitude anyway.

Mentally dismissing the white-haired young man, Zhen Huixin massaged her calf and threw a cursory glance around the temple. She would need a stick or a similar object to help her walk to the nearest village, where hopefully she would find a masseuse, or learn the whereabouts of one. The longer she delayed the search for professional help, the more painful the treatment would be.

A figure appeared before her, blocking the sunlight. Her mood swinging back to irritation, Zhen Huixin said, “Why are you still here?”

Then she saw that the young man was walking backward instead of forward into the temple; he moved with short, cautious steps unlike his customary confident stride. Another figure came and stood before the young man; the sunlight was in Zhen Huixin’s eyes, so that the second person was a dazzling silhouette. When the person stepped inside the temple proper, she got a better view of him. The man was in his seventies and ferocious-looking, with more than a passing facial resemblance to the young man. It was easy to see that they were related by blood.

“Grandfather,” the young man murmured, sounding pointedly reluctant.

“You left the Yellow Forests without my permission!” the elderly man boomed out. Massive inner strength pounded against the walls and pillars; Zhen Huixin reared back in reflex. “I have punished my servants for less. Do you think that just because you’re my grandson, you can do as you wish with impunity?”

The young man folded his arms, radiating defiance. “I usually visit my mother at this time of year,” he stated. “Grandfather, you already know that. The reason I left without asking your permission is because you are sometimes away for weeks, or months. I didn’t want to sit around waiting for you to return.”

With each word uttered by his grandson, the elderly man grew more visibly incensed. “Shou-er, you really have no respect for me, do you?”

“I respect Grandfather immensely, and I also respect my mother. To be perfectly honest, I thought Grandfather would be gone for as long as a month. That’s why I went without waiting for you, since I believed I’d be back before you were.”

Hearing this, the young man’s grandfather turned a frightening shade of red. Zhen Huixin, bracing herself for a torrent of wrath, cut in, “Elder, if I may beg your pardon for interrupting.”

The elderly man transferred the full force of his glare to her. “Who are you, brat?”

“Honorable elder,” Zhen Huixin said, praying that the young man’s grandfather was like Dong Yao, who was willing to accept a reasonable argument even when enraged, “my deepest apologies for interfering with family matters which are no affairs of mine. I could not help listening to what your grandson has said. He didn’t ask for your permission when he left home, but this was because of his duty to his mother. Duty to one’s parents outweighs numerous other obligations which we have to fulfill in life. Meanwhile, he has also done good deeds. He saved me when I fell into a ravine, and also he saved me from men who threatened to harm me. Thus, on his behalf I humbly request that you forgive him.” She ended the speech with the most graceful bow she could manage while sitting down. There, she thought. If that boor of a young master wants to ruin the effect, now is the best opportunity.

The young master said nothing. The elderly man stared suspiciously at Zhen Huixin before speaking to his grandson. “Shou-er, is she telling the truth?”

“She did fall into a ravine and get injured,” the young man replied. “And I did carry her here.”

A huge grin abruptly split his grandfather’s face. The smile paradoxically made him look even more intimidating. “Someone asks for forgiveness on your behalf. You should appreciate that, Shou-er.” He emitted a dry little chuckle. Then, to Zhen Huixin, “Brat, what’s your name? Do you belong to any particular martial arts school?”

“I am called Zhen Huixin, a disciple of the Pearl Butterfly Chu Qingnian.”

“Is that so? I’m Wen Mengjin, Master of the Yellow Forests – a name that even a sapling like you must know. This is my grandson, Wen Shou.”

“Elder Wen.” Zhen Huixin hesitated only for a fraction of a second. “Brother Wen.”

Wen Mengjin surveyed her from head to toe with piercing eyes. “Shou-er said something about injuries. Where are you injured, exactly?” Zhen Huixin told him about her ankle, and he said, “Let me have a look at it. Shou-er, you go outside.”

“Why?”

“Idiot! An unmarried young man must not look at an unmarried young woman’s bare feet. It’s indecent.” Zhen Huixin blushed, and Wen Mengjin went on blithely, “Tell the servants to go find a sedan chair. Hurry.”

Wen Shou marched out.

During the next half-hour Wen Mengjin brutally massaged Zhen Huixin’s muscles back into place. The nerve-crunching agony made her groan and sweat copiously, but otherwise she suffered it without protest. After he was finished, Wen Mengjin said the ankle would heal in two or three days, provided she did not walk on it too much.

“Elder Wen is too kind,” Zhen Huixin said, wiping tears of pain from her eyes. “I can never repay you.”

Wen Mengjin brushed her thanks aside. “Are you really a disciple of Chu Qingnian’s?”

“Yes, I am.”

“My grandson’s mother also studied martial arts under the Pearl Butterfly.”

“Oh!” Zhen Huixin recalled how Wen Shou had identified her teacher after seeing one of her techniques. “Then Madam Wen is my martial sister. I should like to pay my respect to her.”

“Then you can go with my grandson, since he is on his way to his mother’s house. Little miss, why did you lie for him?”

Zhen Huixin was confused. “Lie, Elder? I didn’t lie.”

“Shou-er is not a helpful or generous boy. Why would he save you from the ravine?”

“I don’t know, Elder. He might have felt a trifle sorry for me.” From what she had seen of Wen Shou’s character, this was highly unlikely, but Zhen Huixin could find no other satisfactory explanation.

Wen Mengjin did not pursue the subject, and Zhen Huixin did not bring it up again.

From that point on, everything became ridiculously easy for her. Wen Shou returned with a brusque report that his grandfather’s servants, who had been waiting outside the temple, had acquired a sedan chair. Wen Mengjin had Zhen Huixin seated on the sedan chair, and declared that she and the servants were to accompany Wen Shou to Huan Qiangwei’s place. Wen Shou was vehemently vocal in his rejection of this order, but Wen Mengjin adamantly overruled him. Eventually Wen Shou gave in, casting sidelong insolent looks at Wen Mengjin, who ignored them completely.

Zhen Huixin had never ridden in a sedan chair before, and the initial comfort diverted her attention from her ankle. The notion that Wen Mengjin had granted someone like her, who was practically a total stranger, all this luxury merely to chastise his errant grandson did not detract from her pleasure. At the end of the day, however, her back ached, her bottom was quite sore, and the lump on her head pulsated dully. She was very grateful when they stopped at an inn and she could sleep on a bed.

The possibility of meeting another disciple of Chu Qingnian’s excited her; Chu Qingnian had taken only a limited number of students, none of whom were known to Zhen Huixin. All she knew was that the students were all female, and that she was the one who had stayed with Chu Qingnian the longest; Chu Qingnian had taught each of her other disciples for no longer than five years. Zhen Huixin also wondered if any of her martial sisters had known Bai Shi.

During the journey to his mother’s house, Wen Shou did not bother to acknowledge Zhen Huixin, which suited her - she had no intention of becoming friendly with him. The two of them were accompanied by six servants, who carried the sedan chair in turns; all of them were competent and hale men raised to serve the house of Wen. On the first day Zhen Huixin chatted desultorily with the servants. Eventually, however, Wen Shou rebuked the servants into an embarrassed silence. For that reason alone Zhen Huixin felt that she would not mind tugging at his strange white hair until clumps of it fell out.

They reached Huan Qiangwei’s house three days after Zhen Huixin’s encounter with Wen Mengjin. The house stood alone in the middle of a hilly area. Getting off from the sedan chair, Zhen Huixin marveled at the vegetable patch and the makeshift barn, and at the self-sustainment they signified. She also experienced a peculiar sensation – an unaccountable feeling that this house was not new to her, or that she had been to a similar house.

Wen Shou knocked at the door. “Mother, it’s me. Are you in there?”

There was no reply. Wen Shou pushed the door open and entered. Zhen Huixin walked in after him. Utter stillness greeted them.

“Mother?” Wen Shou called out. “It’s me, Shou-er.”

On Zhen Huixin’s right was a wooden bench; a long slim object lay on it. Frowning, Zhen Huixin sidled up to the bench and picked up the object. It was what she had suspected it to be - a sword encased in a green leather sheath. A small dragon was carved around the base of the sword hilt. The sight of the sword rang another familiar note; could she have seen it before?

Then she heard an almost audible click in her head, and, stunned, abruptly understood the feeling of familiarity. Ling Yinfei had told her a couple of times about the white-haired lady and her churlish son, from whose house the masked kidnappers had snatched him away. The story of the mother and son, and the son’s grandfather, had been so captivating for Zhen Huixin that it had lingered in her memory. She recalled Wen Mengjin, and slowly perceived the situation between him and his grandson in a new light.

Ling Yinfei had also described his family sword in detail to Zhen Huixin. The sword she was holding now matched the description perfectly.

Discontinued

The man smiled at Ling Yinfei without a hint of mockery or menace. He had a long, patrician nose, and a tiny mole on the left side of his chin. His clothes, made of fine materials, were flawlessly tidy, showing few signs of travel or even wear. “Yes, I was the one who struck down those two. I hit them with my poison darts, directly in the jugular. The lethal poison takes effect within twenty seconds, paralyzing the victims before killing them.”

Keeping half an eye on the newcomer, Ling Yinfei bent down to examine the boatman’s inert body. Sure enough, a small projectile stuck out from the side of his neck. After a moment’s hesitation, Ling Yinfei pressed his fingertips against the boatman’s neck to check for a pulse. There was none; the boatman was dead.

Realizing that the newcomer was about to approach him, Ling Yinfei stepped away from the dead boatman, ready for the third dart, or a similarly hostile move. Instead, the man in white said, “Is he dead?”

Ling Yinfei nodded, not trusting the stranger just yet.

The man in white reached the boat. He bent down and, with an effortless twist of the wrist, heaved the dead boatman out of the boat. The body rolled over in the ankle-deep water to land on its side, next to the old woman.

Straightening up, the man in white said to Ling Yinfei, “Young brother, would you like to know why I killed them?”

The man’s overall attitude was so peculiarly sanguine that it was evident that he was feeling no guilt over what he had done. He could well be a cold-blooded murderer who valued human life no more than the life of a fly; and yet this assumption was not in accordance with Ling Yinfei’s intuition. “Yes. These people did me no harm. Have you perhaps got a grudge against them?”

The man in white carried a large fan which was tucked onto his belt. He now spread the fan wide open, revealing it to be richly embroidered, with ornate patterns of flowers and leaves. “May I presume that you are going to cross the lake?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Then let me tell you something. An hour ago, I arrived at this lake from that direction.” He waved the fan lazily at a dense growing opposite the path Ling Yinfei had taken to reach the lakeshore. “These two late unlamented wretches and a traveler were already on the boat and well off the shore. I was thinking that I would wait for another boat when I heard a loud splash. Our good boatman had just shoved the traveler overboard with his oar.”

Ling Yinfei blinked.

The man in white inclined his head, as if Ling Yinfei had refuted him. “The poor fellow sank at once and didn’t come up again, which to me was odd - even when a person can’t swim, he’ll thrash about for a second before going under. The robbers were coming back to this shore, so I hid myself in the copse and bid my time. Then along you came, and this made my next course of action clearer.” With his free hand, the man gestured at the bodies. “If you don’t believe me, open that large pack on the old hag’s back. They were looking over the contents shortly before you came. Please.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Ling Yinfei unslung the large pack from the old woman’s unresisting back, carried it to dry ground, and opened it as suggested. Inside the pack was a large amount of money, several pieces of jewelry, and two bolts of fine cloth. There was even an exquisitely made picture scroll depicting a mountain in winter. All this treasure, Ling Yinfei estimated, could not have been collected in less than a week.

The man in white studied the loot with remote interest. “They had a lucrative business, I see,” he murmured from behind his fan.

This was the first time Ling Yinfei had actually run into criminals during this journey. He ought to have been more surprised, yet somehow he was not - his encounter with the Five Swords Sect seven years ago had prepared him for the perils that awaited lone travelers. “Thank you very much for saving me from these people, sir,” he said to the man in white. “May I please know your name?”

“I’m called Mu Junjie. And you are?”

“I’m Ling Yinfei.”

Mu Junjie snapped his fan shut. “Tell me, Brother Ling, do you still want to cross the lake in that boat?”

“I don’t see how else I can cross it.”

“That’s true. In that case I’m going with you, since I too have business on the other side. As we will be crossing the lake together, I shall reveal to you one thing about the robbers that I didn’t tell you previously.”

“Are there more than two of them?”

“Yes, there are. You’re quite astute, Brother Ling. After the victim I told you about was gone from sight, two persons swum up from beneath the surface of the lake and got into the boat. I assume they’d been hiding in the water, and their task was to pull the victim under.”

“Or to lend a hand when their accomplices had trouble disposing of the victim.” Ling Yinfei tried to remember if his masters had ever mentioned a technique that enabled those who mastered it to stay underwater for hours on a stretch.

“Once we set sail, I daresay these men-fish will try in earnest to drown us. While we may own little in terms of worldly goods, I did kill their comrades, therefore they might come after us seeking some form of revenge. Can you swim, Brother Ling?”

“Not very well, no. But at the moment, my main concern is that the two robbers who are waiting for us halfway across the lake may have excellent martial arts skills, as well as a better understanding of battles fought on water.”

“There are two of them, and there are two of us, although I won’t discount the possibility of reinforcements - I wouldn’t underestimate these scoundrels. Of their martial arts skills I can’t tell for sure, but it takes a certain level to stay underwater for a long period of time, so we may be in for a treat. Please do look out for yourself, since in all likelihood I will be too busy preserving my own skin to preserve yours as well.”

Ling Yinfei hid his smile; Mu Junjie’s stylized speech somehow reminded him of Qiu Heitong in a narratory mood. “I will, thank you.”

They climbed aboard the boat. Mu Junjie said that the real boatmen lived in the village across the lake, and that the robbers must have scared them away. He carried the robbers’ loot with him, to later hand it over to the boatmen – who, he declared, more than deserved the fortune.

The boat glided smoothly off the shore, with Ling Yinfei at the oar and Mu Junjie standing at the bow. The boat was small - it could accommodate only three people at most, the boatman included – and thus Ling Yinfei found it not too difficult to manage. Also, his family had taken regular boating trips every spring, and Ling Tiepi had seen to it that his sons had learned the basics of rowing. The memory came back to Ling Yinfei with astonishing clarity; he supposed the same ease applied to all childhood memories.

Sunlight bled out of the day as the boat drew farther away from land. As Ling Yinfei rowed, his eyes barely moved from the dark, rippling surface of the lake. The robbers, who must be terribly well-hidden, could be tailing the boat right under it to escape detection; he must not cease being vigilant.

On that note, he wondered why he had trusted Mu Junjie so easily. The whole tale about the robbers could have been an utter fabrication, or Mu Junjie himself could be part of the gang. Even so, Ling Yinfei was sure Mu Junjie had not lied. Dong Yao would have called this conviction gut instinct.

“Master Mu,” he said to Mu Junjie, who was fanning himself enjoyably at the bow.

“Please - Brother Mu.”

“All right. Brother Mu, the fake boatman told me there’s a village and then a valley beyond this lake. Was he telling the truth?”

“Brother Ling, you have insisted on crossing this lake. Don’t you even know what lies beyond it?” Mu Junjie did not bother disguising the amusement in his voice.

“I was told that this was the way to my relative’s house – the place where I’m headed - but I have never been here before.”

“Ah, is that so? Then, yes, there is a small village, and after that a narrow valley. Past the valley is a knoll known as the Fragrant Grass Knoll. Not far from the knoll there is a beautiful river, and a restaurant on the riverside. I myself am going to the Fragrant Grass Knoll. If you’re not in a hurry to reach your relative’s house, you can come with me.”

“What’s in the knoll?”

“Have you ever heard of the Silver Heron Sect?”

“No, I’m sorry. I don’t know much about wulin.”

“The Silver Heron Sect is based here, in the Jiangxi province. If I recall correctly they have around two hundred members at present. Their creed is to strengthen their martial arts by way of literature, geography and other intellectual pursuits. Their leader is going into retirement, so tomorrow they will elect a new leader - by holding a tournament for the senior members. This tournament is to take place at the Fragrant Grass Knoll, and the winner will claim the title of leader.”

For some reason Mu Junjie did not appear to Ling Yinfei as a member of any clan or sect. “I’m an outsider - is it all right for me to be there?”

Instead of replying, Mu Junjie swept his fan backward. “Brother Ling, behind us.”

Ling Yinfei started to twist around. At the same time a human figure, naked but for a loincloth, broke the surface. He grabbed the boat stern and propelled himself upward, momentarily rocking the boat. His speed was uncanny, almost as if the lower part of his body was already in the air instead of still within the pull of the water.

In reflex Ling Yinfei jabbed at him with the oar, which was a shaft made of sturdy steel. The man nimbly avoided the oar by snapping his head and shoulder to one side. Ling Yinfei had time to think that the man was used to surprise attacks like this before a kick tapped him smartly on the knee, very nearly upsetting his already precarious balance.

Praying the boat would not capsize, Ling Yinfei hurled himself forward, his fist aimed at the intruder’s face. The man dodged and thus fell into the trap; with his other hand Ling Yinfei shoved the oar, which he had not let go of, right into his opponent’s midriff with all his might. The man gave an agonized, breathless yelp, and lost his footing. As his opponent teetered, Ling Yinfei swung the oar and whacked him across the temple. The ploy was inelegant, and perhaps also unfair, but what was important was that it worked; the man tumbled out of the boat and dropped - crashed was the word that came to Ling Yinfei’s mind - back into the water.

Clutching at the oar, Ling Yinfei hastily resumed rowing, commanding his arms to move faster. If there were indeed two or more robbers hiding underwater, they might try to grab the oar away from him. He did not want to run the risk of being stranded, oar-less, in the middle of the lake.

“That was quite impressive, Brother Ling,” Mu Junjie mused. He had not made any sound during the brief skirmish between Ling Yinfei and the intruder. “It wasn’t so much your skills as your ability to quickly adjust yourself to what was going on. You put the oar to productive use.”

“I simply didn’t want the fight to drag on.”

“Naturally, naturally. My sincerest apologies for not helping you get rid of the rascal - there isn’t enough space for the two of us to move freely, among other things.”
“It’s all right.” Not wanting to prolong the fight was only part of the reason; Ling Yinfei was reluctant to show moves which Mu Junjie could use to identify his masters. The man in white seemed a genuinely nice person, but Ling Yinfei was inclined to be cautious.

After that, there were no further incidents; the boat reached the opposite shore unhampered. The first stars were already twinkling overhead, pinpoints of light in an indigo sky. As the two passengers disembarked from the boat, Mu Junjie idly remarked that Ling Yinfei, by driving off his attacker so briskly, might have discouraged the other robber from getting too close.

After they left the lakeshore, Mu Junjie led the way down a pebbled footpath. At the end of the path stood the village, which was little more than a group of huts. They met one of the villagers, who was afraid of them at first, but who became perceptibly friendly after Mu Junjie related the way in which they had disposed of the robbers.

The relieved villager took them to the hut of the village leader. There, in front of witnesses, Mu Junjie handed over the robbers’ loot to the leader, who thanked him in a dazed – but not, Ling Yinfei noted, avaricious – manner. A sumptuous meal was served for the two guests of honor. When Ling Yinfei protested, the village leader answered, “My nephew and son-in-law are the boatmen that the robbers had driven away from the lake. This is nothing but a token of our family’s gratitude.”

“You see, Brother Ling,” Mu Junjie commented after the village leader bowed himself out and they were left alone with their dinner, “it pays to do good deeds and help others, and sometimes it pays handsomely. Here, have some of the soup.”

An earlier question reoccurred to Ling Yinfei. “Brother Mu, you said that you were going to the tournament held by the Silver Heron Sect. Do they allow outsiders like me to be there?” He was obliquely asking if Mu Junjie, too, was an outsider.

“Yes, they allow outsiders like us to attend.” Mu Junjie popped a slice of spiced bean curd into his mouth and chewed with relish. “We are not to participate in the tournament, understandably, although we can, if we like, cheer for the contenders.”

“Why do they hold the tournament in the Fragrant Grass Knoll instead of at their own place?”

“Holding election tournaments in open air where anybody can see them is one of their traditions. It is also an opportunity to show the outside world the level of martial arts competence that the heroes of the Sect have achieved. To my knowledge, there are indeed several promising talents in this generation. The winner, or all of the contenders even, may one day become famous, and we shall be there to witness the beginning of their illustrious journey in wulin.”

The next morning, after accepting more thanks from the village leader and his family, Ling Yinfei and Mu Junjie set out for the Fragrant Grass Knoll. Away from the village, the ground fell into a gradual downward slope. Thirty minutes later, they came upon a ditch overgrown with brambles, beyond which the ground fell even more sharply. Mu Junjie said the Fragrant Grass Knoll was not far ahead.

“If the Silver Heron Sect members are not already at the knoll, they will arrive from the east - we’re coming from the north. After, or even during, the tournament, you can mingle with them and introduce yourself. Most of them are decent folk and not averse to meeting well-intentioned strangers.”

“Do you suppose that’s polite? I’m a nobody, while they are members of a well-established sect.”

Mu Junjie held up an admonishing finger. “It is never unwise to get acquainted with people from wulin - the more, the better. In general, it doesn’t hurt to have as many acquaintances as possible.”

During this conversation, Ling Yinfei had been hearing approaching footsteps. He now threw a glance over his shoulder, expecting to see someone from the village – a woman out to do the laundry, perhaps, or a child going out to play. What he saw instead made him stand stock-still.

Coming toward them was a young woman about nineteen years of age. She had a heart-shaped face set off by a pair of alert eyes. Her movements, while indicating a significant level of martial arts, were also graceful and fluid. Her thick, luxuriant hair flowed down to her waist. To Ling Yinfei, she was breathtaking, like a fairy maiden who rode upon clouds with a basket of flowers on one arm.

Mu Junjie said heartily, “Why, it’s Sister Yuquan! I haven’t seen you for ages. How are you and your family doing, Sister?”

The girl smiled at him; the smile brought out a dimple in one cheek. Ling Yinfei tried not to stare at the dimple – at her entire countenance - and discovered that it was a struggle. “Brother Junjie, good day. We’re doing very well, thank you. And you?” Her voice was also a pleasant surprise - it was silvery and low without being monotonous.

“I’m fine, I’m perfectly fine. Are you going to the tournament held by the Silver Heron Sect?”

“Yes.”

“Ah, that’s splendid, because so are we. This young brother here is Ling Yinfei - we just met yesterday and he is going to the tournament as well. Brother Ling, this young lady is Yan Yuquan.”

“Brother Ling.” Yan Yuquan saluted, her smile lingering.

Ling Yinfei returned the salute. “Miss Yan.” He could not help admiring her movements again - how they showed both elegance and inner strength.

“Sister Yuquan is getting married very soon,” Mu Junjie said. “Again, my congratulations, Sister. Master Tian Jiaren is a truly fortunate man.”

Something leaden sank into Ling Yinfei’s stomach. “Oh,” he muttered, then said in a louder, firmer tone. “My congratulations to you.”

“Thank you.”

The three of them continued toward the Fragrant Grass Knoll. Mu Junjie and Yan Yuquan, walking in front of Ling Yinfei, talked with the kind of unselfconsciousness that revealed years of friendship. Ling Yinfei asked where they had first met.

“Sister Yuquan’s teacher, Abbess Anlin, is an old friend of mine, and that is how we got to know each other.” Mu Junjie held his open fan poised in the air. “Speaking of your revered teacher, how is she doing, Sister?”

“Actually, I received news a few days ago that she’s taken to her bed, and I’ve gone to visit her.”

“Is she ill?” Mu Junjie asked.

“No, my teacher merely took a mistaken step during an exercise session, and it affected her body temperature. Thankfully, the illness was nothing that plenty of rest and the right amount of exercise won’t cure. She’s better now.”

“Thank goodness. Have you told her about your upcoming marriage?”

“I have. Teacher is very happy to hear about it, and gave me her blessings.” Yan Yuquan gave a small, embarrassed laugh; to Ling Yinfei, the laugh sounded as water would when it fell tinkling into a pond. “She also ordered me to return home without delay, since my wedding day is drawing near. You see, initially I was reluctant to go and visit Teacher, as Brother Jiaren’s father is coming to my house, but Brother Jiaren insisted, saying his father would understand.”

“Wouldn’t Brother Jiaren be angry with you, if you tarry and go to the tournament instead of going straight home?” Mu Junjie asked teasingly.

Yan Yuquan laughed again, this time more cheerfully. “As a matter of fact, he would dearly love to come to the tournament himself, and see whether Brother Song will get elected as the next leader. But he has to wait for his father, so I attend the tournament for both of us.”

“What a pity Brother Jiaren can’t come with us; however, I trust you shall give him the good news that his friend has won the tournament.” To Ling Yinfei, Mu Junjie added, “Song Kuaili is a senior disciple in the Silver Heron Sect. He is a close friend of Tian Jiaren’s.”

Fifty steps later, the land fell in a sheer drop. Beyond the drop was a narrow valley. The valley was dotted with rocks and mats of bronze-colored grass, with no sign of other living things.

Bracketing the valley and the drop was a sprawling hill, which was rather too big to be called a mere knoll. “Brother Ling, that is the Fragrant Grass Knoll,” Mu Junjie informed him.

Ling Yinfei saw fifty or sixty people on the knoll, standing in a rough semicircle. The tournament had already commenced; he thought it must have started as early as dawn. There was a match, visible even from the drop, in progress. The Sect members all exuded a solemn, expectant air. A lanky gray-haired man stood ostensibly apart from the rest of the spectators.

Ling Yinfei, Mu Junjie and Yan Yuquan made their way down a steep footpath on one side of the drop and across the valley. The match became more heated as they neared the knoll. One of the contenders was a short, bullnecked man clad in green, who was very nimble on his feet. His opponent was taller, but less agile. The two of them were locked in a flurry of bare-handed moves, whose speed had now reached a furious level. Gradually and steadily, the shorter man was gaining the upper hand.

The three newcomers joined the crowd, who ignored them after a cursory glance. Ling Yinfei could now see that the gray-haired man was observing the match with studious concentration; he was probably a judge of some kind.

Some of the spectators next to Ling Yinfei were discussing the two fighters.

“Brother Song has extraordinary stamina,” a man commented. “Very few can surpass him when it comes to reserving and measuring out his strength.”

“But Brother Huang would loathe it if he loses,” another said. “He has been yearning for the position for as long as I can remember. Besides, he’s more senior than Brother Song, and a very proud man, too. He’ll hold on for some time yet.”

The taller contender, his face now resentful and damp with sweat, was sending fierce, successive blows toward the man in green. The latter deflected the blows with his forearms, then suddenly closed the distance between them. In less than a second his fist landed squarely on his opponent’s ribs. The move sent the taller man stumbling several paces back; losing his balance, he fell sprawling. When he struggled to get up, his face contorted with pain and he sat down again with undisguised reluctance.

The man in green stayed respectfully in place, waiting.

“Brother Song,” his opponent said. His breathing was strained, and the resentment on his face had not abated; it had, in fact, deepened. “You win. I admit defeat.”

The man in green bowed low. “Brother Huang, thank you very much for the lesson.”

Two members of the sect who had come on the stage assisted Huang to his feet, and led him away. Ling Yinfei could not help noticing that, during the whole process, Huang was casting surreptitious, grudging glances at Song.

Putting up his fists in a salute, Song faced the audience. “Is there anyone else who would like to challenge me?”

The gray-haired man left his post to stand beside Song. “If there is no one,” he announced in a sonorous, deep-throated baritone, which was astounding for having originated from such a thin chest, “I shall proclaim Song Kuaili as the new leader of the Silver Heron Sect.”

No challengers came forth. The old man, evidently a Sect Elder, made his announcement. Song Kuaili’s name rang across the knoll in loud, approving shouts, and he bowed once more.

Afterward, the other Sect members took turns offering their congratulations. On seeing Yan Yuquan at the end of the line, Song Kuaili expressed his surprise.

“I’m sorry that Brother Jiaren can’t come today,” Yan Yuquan said, “but I’ll tell him to visit you as soon as he can.” She introduced him to Ling Yinfei and Mu Junjie.

Song Kuaili was enthusiastically courteous with Mu Junjie. “The name of Mu Junjie, the Harmonious Wind, spreads far and wide throughout wulin, and it is an honor to be able to meet him today. But I know very little of this young brother here.”

It was the first time Ling Yinfei had heard Mu Junjie’s nickname. He found it intriguing, and oddly fitting. “I am a no one and do not merit Leader Song’s attention,” he said.

“Do not call me Leader just yet, I beg you - I haven’t gone through the inauguration ceremony. Brother Ling Yinfei, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Ling Yinfei hoped Song Kuaili had never heard of either the Ling escort and delivery service or the Willow Sword, or made any connection between the two.

The other members were leaving the knoll and moving away from the valley. Ling Yinfei, Mu Junjie and Yan Yuquan followed in their wake. Ten minutes later, a two-storied building with a glinting maroon roof emerged over the horizon. Remembering Mu Junjie’s description of a beautiful river with a restaurant on the riverside, Ling Yinfei guessed that the Silver Heron Sect was going to hold a celebration in the restaurant.

Mu Junjie had not exaggerated; the river was indeed beautiful and quite wide, the water a remarkable translucent blue. Several people, some of whom looked like poets in search of inspiration, strolled along the banks, where tall, shady trees grew. Pleasure boats cruised along the river, carrying passengers who sheltered themselves from the summer sun with paper umbrellas.

The restaurant was a tastefully furnished building decorated in red and emerald green. As the Silver Heron Sect members entered, the restaurant owner bustled over to greet them. After a brief exchange of small talk, he ushered them to the second floor.

The floor was an open space without walls, where the roof was directly supported by pillars. Carved wooden railings bordered the entire floor. From where they sat, the guests had a magnificent view of the river. Soon they were surrounded by waiters ready to take their orders. Yan Yuquan sat in one corner with Song Kuaili and the gray-haired man, while Ling Yinfei and Mu Junjie sat in another.

“Physique-wise, Song Kuaili may not inspire much of an impression,” Mu Junjie said as a servant came to their table to pour tea. “He fell critically ill during infancy, and consequently didn’t grow up to be as big as he otherwise would have. Never underestimate him, though - he is arguably the most talented and hardworking Sect member of his generation.” He lowered his voice. “The difference in skills between him and the man we saw him defeat, Huang Luo, is not much, but Song Kuaili is a more prudent strategist. Huang Luo has always been too rash and cocksure, two traits which always seem to be his downfall.”

Listening to Mu Junjie, Ling Yinfei was reminded of his brother. Ling Xiao had been a keen collector of all sorts of information pertaining to wulin, although admittedly he was a little less attracted to investigate the more personal bits. “Are you saying that to be a sect leader one merely needs outstanding martial skills?”

“Not at all. Song Kuaili is also trusted and liked by his fellow members. They - not all, but a great majority - prefer him over Huang Luo. Ah, look, Sister Yuquan is calling us.”

They went to Song Kuaili’s table and once more offered their best wishes, which the newly elected leader warmly accepted. Yan Yuquan sat on Song Kuaili’s right; Ling Yinfei gamely avoided gazing at her face, though secretly, he desperately wanted to do the opposite.

Song Kuaili turned to Ling Yinfei. “Brother Ling, if I may be permitted to inquire, which martial arts school do you belong to?”

Ling Yinfei had composed a concise and neutral response for this very question. “I belong to no specific school, really - I pick up techniques and moves here and there. I beg Master Song not to look down on me because of it.”

From where he stood Ling Yinfei had an unobstructed view of the river. For a flicker of a moment his eyes did stray - not toward Yan Yuquan, but toward the boats. What he saw made his blood leave his face in a rush.

Mu Junjie had mentioned that the river was a favorite leisure spot; however, not all the boats that Ling Yinfei saw now were pleasure boats. One was a stout, businesslike raft designed for swift and safe ferrying. Unlike the pleasure boats, which drifted lazily on the sparkling blue water, the raft moved purposefully. It carried four passengers, three of whom were dressed in light yellow. The fourth passenger wore a crimson, gold-lined robe. Even from this distance, Ling Yinfei could see their faces - or rather, what showed in their stead: white masks with various colors painted around the eyes.

“Brother Ling?” Song Kuaili’s concerned voice floated out of nowhere. “Brother Ling, are you all right? You look terribly pale.”

Ling Yinfei forced his attention back to Song Kuaili. “Master Song, I - I deeply apologize for my rudeness - I must be going now, I have something urgent to see to. Brother Mu, Miss Yan. Please excuse me.”

He gave them a distracted bow, backtracked, then flew down the stairs toward the first floor. The four people from the Five Swords Sect almost reached the other side of the river; if he could not get himself another raft of similar speed in time, he would fall too far behind them. As yet, he had no concrete plan for when he did catch up with them, but catch up he must.

He thought, not without regret, that his chances of ever seeing Yan Yuquan again had just become sadly slim.

To be continued

Alli took a deep breath and listened for more. She still couldn’t completely absorb everything. An aunt that they had never known, all these years? It was surreal.

“You’ve been drinking again, haven’t you?” the other girl, Alyssa, went on with a touch of incredulity in her voice. “Oh geez, and we thought you were finally better. Aunt Anna told you a million times that it won’t bring Mom back—”

“She said that?” Mr. Silvano sounded even more shocked than his daughter’s alter ego. “When? But she’s— and I’m not— and why won’t she be back—”

“Because, Dad,” Alyssa said, “she’s just not, okay? Stop it!”

“I’m sorry you think that, dear,” a familiar, but tired-sounding, voice said from behind them. “Because I actually am back.”

Alli shook her hand free from Alice’s grip, and ran out into the hall. Luckily, no one else noticed her: her father was too busy hugging her mother, and Alyssa stood stock-still some distance from them, her face pale and almost bloodless.

“Mom—Mom is—” she blubbered.

Alli pulled her into the bedroom, and then ran out to her parents again. Her mother’s blue silk blouse was drenched with her tears when she finally let go of them, and Mrs. Silvano looked at it with an odd mixture of disapproval and affection—it was just like her to do so even at a time like this that Alli cried even harder. She really had missed her mother, after all.

“I’m sorry,” Mrs. Silvano whispered. “I should have called, I should have—”

“It’s okay, Mom,” Alli said. She rubbed the tears from her eyes. “We were just really worried. But I’m glad—” She had to swallow the lump in her throat before going on. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“And you said she wasn’t coming back,” her father said with a hint of a reproach in his tone.”

“I d-didn’t really—”

Alli was spared the trouble of having to come up with an explanation when her mother swayed and fell towards the ground. Mr. Silvano cried out in alarm and Alli moved to catch her.

“No, I don’t think I’m all right,” Mrs. Silvano said weakly before Alli could ask the inevitable question. “I haven’t eaten properly these past few days.”

Alli stared at the big, dark circles under her mother’s eyes as they carried her to the bedroom. She didn’t seem to have slept the past few days, either.

They made her lie down on the bed despite her faint protests. “Mom, why—”

“Ssh.” Her father shook his head. “We mustn’t. Your mother needs to rest—”

Mrs. Silvano sat up and threw her head up in a gesture of defiance. “I’ll be fine in a minute,” she said. She turned to Alli. “There are some things I need to tell you and your father. I know you must hate me, because I have been a horrible mother, but this is important—” She was unable to go on, and she sank down to the bed and closed her eyes.

“It can wait,” Mr. Silvano said, his voice soothing as he put a hand over his wife’s forehead.

“N-no, Albert, I have to. You don’t understand—”

“No, I don’t.” Tears swam in Mr. Silvano’s eyes. “I really don’t, because you never tell me anything, so both Alli and I had no idea where you were—”

Mrs. Silvano hung her head. “I’m sorry, Albert. I tried to, but—”

“It really is also my fault, Mom,” Alli put in. She could not bring herself to look at her mother. “A few days ago you were about to tell me everything, but I took it the wrong way. I thought the journal you gave me was your own journal, and that you wanted to give it to me to tell me to stop being such a loser and be more like you. I’m sorry. It’s just that I had a bad day then—but still, I acted horribly. I found out too late it wasn’t like that all.

“A-and I never hated you, Mom,” Alli said earnestly. “I really didn’t.”

Mrs. Silvano opened her eyes and looked at her, relieved, although sadness lurked deep in her eyes. She nodded and rested her head on her husband’s shoulder. She began to cry.

“Adie,” Mr. Silvano murmured. “I honestly didn’t know you were trying to tell me something too.”

“That’s because you’ve always been pretty dense.” Mrs. Silvano managed a smile at him, which eased the tension in the room.
She reached for her bag. Mr. Silvano beat Alli to it and handed it to his wife.

“Well, I can explain now,” Mrs. Silvano said. “It started with this picture I saw on the cell phone of one of the janitresses at the office two days ago. I’m particularly close to her, since she’s the one who cleans the bathrooms on our floor, and every now and then she gives me celebrity gossip, and even stuff she hears about my office mates.” Mrs. Silvano winced at Alli’s expression. “It can’t be helped, dear, even though I sometimes feel guilty about it.”

“It’s nice to know that you’re prone to these things too,” Alli said. She grinned.

“I’m not perfect, Alli,” Mrs. Silvano returned.

“Although you seem it, dear,” Mr. Silvano added with a hint of mischief in his voice, and Alli groaned.

“Stop it, Albert. Our daughter is uncomfortable about her parents sharing silly romantic banter.” Mrs. Silvano brought out her phone. “That day, I passed by her on the way back to my cubicle from our lunch break. The other janitresses were crowding around her in the fifth floor lobby. They were all looking at this picture on her phone. She said her grandmother sent it to her—she was so excited because she finally got to meet in person one of the few young singer-actresses in the country that she actually liked today.

“This is the reason why I left so suddenly,” she went on as she looked for the picture in her gallery. “I have a copy of it on my phone because I begged her to send it to me.” Mrs. Silvano showed her the picture on her cell phone, and all color left Alli’s face.

On the picture was a girl wearing shades and a cap to obscure her features, although the cap was askew so that a part of her forehead showed. There was a strange mark on her forehead, seeming to leap out at them from the photograph. But even through the disguise and without seeing the mark, Alli already knew who the girl was.

It was Lisa.

———

“I can’t believe it,” Alyssa breathed. “I really can’t. That was Mom. She’s here.”

Alice looked at her kindly, and all her initial dislike for the other girl slowly dissipated, because Alyssa really seemed near tears. “Did she leave you and Dad in your world?”

“I never knew her,” Alyssa said. For a moment the pity Alice felt for her intensified as she actually did burst out crying; but the next moment Alyssa’s nose was turned up in scorn again, and all the sympathy Alice had for her vanished with her next words.

“She’s so beautiful,” Alyssa said. “Why didn’t any of you turn out like her?”

“Excuse me?” Alice spluttered.

“There’s no excuse for you,” Alyssa said. “I mean, I’m sure Mom tried teaching you good fashion sense. But still your clothes are like this—” She threw open the cabinet door and shook her head. She rummaged through the things on the dresser. “And not even a makeup kit! Or at least some face cream! How do you survive without it?”

“We eat food,” Lisa said in all innocence. “And we drink water and—”

“She didn’t mean it literally, Lisa,” Alice explained. She felt more tolerant of Lisa now. Although she had once felt like throttling Lisa because of the inconveniences she had brought them, it was nothing compared to how much she wanted to strangle Alyssa now.

She forced herself to keep calm. She shifted the topic to a safer one, something that would not elicit such murderous thoughts from her. “You mentioned Mom had an aunt. We never knew that.”

“You never knew her?” Alyssa exclaimed. “I really do pity you. She is the single most coolest person in the world!”

“Wrong grammar,” Alice retorted. She was at the end of her patience, and something about Alyssa’s manner really ticked her off. She did not appreciate being looked down on, and even when Alyssa was being nice she still managed to come off as condescending. “You don’t put ‘most’ since ‘coolest’ is already in the superlative.”

“You think you’re so smart, don’t you?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do.”

Alyssa and Alice stood glaring at each other for several minutes, until Lisa broke the frigid silence.

“I would love to meet Aunt Anna,” she said brightly. “What was she like?”

“She’s really, really wonderful,” Alyssa said. She grinned at Lisa. “She’s really pretty, like Mom—in fact, I have trouble distinguishing them from their old pictures, at least from the days before Mom cut her hair—”

“They were twins?” Alice said, surprised.

“Duh,” Alyssa snapped. “If they weren’t, they wouldn’t look exactly alike, would they? And I thought you were smart. Anyway,” she turned to Lisa again, “Aunt Anna’s cool and hip, you know, she knows even more about fashion than I do. From the pictures and her stories, I always thought Mom was the more conservative one, and Aunt Anna had always been the more popular one in their school, but here, in this weird world I’m in, if I’m not dreaming and this is not a big practical joke Adam played on me, that is—well, that was why I was so surprised.”

Lisa looked bemused at Alyssa’s descriptions (”But I thought a ‘hip’ is a body part,” she whispered to Alice), and she seemed even more puzzled when Alyssa finished.

“But that’s not how Alli thinks of Mom,” she said. “She talked about it before, right, Alice? She thought Mom was perfect, someone she could never be.”

Alice thought back on two nights before, when they and Alli had gotten to talking, and the subject of their mother came up. “That’s right,” she said. “But she never was close to Mom, so she never knew. Mom wasn’t always like that.” She smiled. “They’re actually more alike than she thinks.”

———-

Alli looked away from the picture so her mother would not catch her staring. She made sure her expression would not give her away. In any case, it wasn’t very likely her mother had even an inkling that it was one of her alter egos in the photograph. If she did see through the disguise, maybe she just thought that Alli was sneaking out of school or something—

“I know who this is,” Mrs. Silvano said. “They all thought she was Miss Cherry, but she wasn’t.”

Alli’s heart sank. How could she have known? This wasn’t the way she wanted her mother to find out—

Mrs. Silvano sighed. “This is my sister, Anna.”

Alli looked up at her, feeling so relieved that she burst out laughing sheepishly. She could just be so paranoid sometimes! It was silly. But her laughter died down abruptly when what her mother said finally registered.

She frowned at Mrs. Silvano. “You really had a sister then?”

“I thought you knew, Alli?” Mr. Silvano said. He looked confused. “You said—”

“Er, right, yeah, I mean—” Alli fumbled. She evaded the question by asking her mother, “She’s really the girl in the photograph, then? How can you be sure?”

“This.” She pointed at the photograph, her finger right above the part of Lisa’s forehead that showed. “This mark. It’s my sister, I’m sure of it.

“I’ve never been able to talk about her for all these years,” Mrs. Silvano went on. “I promised myself I would tell you, eventually. I was about to, during your birthday.”

“But why only then?” Alli asked.

Mrs. Silvano and Mr. Silvano glanced at each other. “Because on that day, someone sent her journal to my office,” Mrs. Silvano said. “It was left on my desk, wrapped in brown paper. There was no return address on the parcel, nor any indication as to who it was from. It just said: To Adrienna. For the answers that you seek. And when I turned the card around, it said, This is real, although you still deny the truth of everything that happened before. Believe it. Something is starting, and you’d best be ready.”

Alli was struck by how similar it was to how she got the ring. She wondered if the same person had sent the packages; if so, then her mother was more involved than she had thought.

“I really have no idea who would give this to me,” Mrs. Silvano said. “It wasn’t in my sister’s writing, that I’m sure of. But the journal was hers. I really didn’t understand the things that were written there, or why my sister would be involved. I even thought I had imagined the things that had happened before, but with this journal, I’m not certain anymore.”

“What happened to Aunt Anna? Where is she now?”

“She disappeared, right before you were born.”

“What happened to her?”

“I still don’t know,” Mrs. Silvano said. She sobbed into her hands before continuing. “She could be dead, for all I know. But I’m still holding out hope that she’s still alive, because if she was dead, I should it feel it, right? Or I would like to believe so, because we’re twins—”

“Twins,” Alli repeated. It was strange, imagining her mother with a sister, and a twin sister. She smiled, remembering a book she had read once in grade school, and joked to cheer her mother up, “I suppose you were the popular one, and she was the nerdy and nicer one?”

Her mother laughed, and Alli was pleased to hear her do so. Her father also began to laugh. “Oh, Alli, no. I was the nerdy one. I was the less popular, mediocre-looking, quiet, shy twin.”

Alli raised an eyebrow. “You’re joking.”

“Do I look as if I like to joke around, dear?”

“But you? Mom?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Silvano replied. She looked as if she was enjoying her daughter’s bewilderment. She crossed over to her dresser and got a photograph from inside her drawer, which she kept locked on most days. “See that?”

Alli blinked at the picture of the two girls her mother showed her. They almost looked the same, except one was wearing a short skirt and a halter top blouse, while the other had shorter hair and was wearing jeans and a baggy t-shirt.

“I was a—oh, what did you call it—a loser,” Mrs. Silvano went on. “Everyone in school knew only my sister; she was the prom queen, the salutatorian of our batch, the school paper’s assistant editor, the leading lady in all the school plays, the most valuable player in the women’s basketball, volleyball and table tennis team. Half the guys in the entire school had crushes on her.” She looked at her husband pointedly.

“I liked her because I thought she was really nice, you know,” Mr. Silvano protested. “And she was pretty—which means that you are, too.”

“Right.” Mrs. Silvano sounded doubtful. “Your father was her last boyfriend,” she explained, “before all the trouble started.”

Alli ogled at them. “Dad?”

“Your father was pretty popular back in high school, actually,” Mrs. Silvano said. “He was a player in several of the teams, and he was editor-in-chief of the school paper in our fourth year.”

“Dad?” Alli repeated.

“You sound as if you can’t believe I could be that cool,” Mr. Silvano grumbled.

“W-well,” Alli stammered because her father had voiced her sentiments exactly, “I was just, er, shocked—”

Mrs. Silvano laughed again and embraced her husband. “I, on the other hand—no one actually knew me, except as ‘Anna’s twin’. I hated that so much, but I knew I could never be better than my sister, so I stopped trying. I didn’t even try to do well at school, because even in that she beat me, even though I was the one who studied harder. It was frustrating.”

Her smile now faded a little. “I still remember when we were younger. We were always together. It was always just us: Adrienna and Allisana. What a pair we were. People could never tell us apart, not even our parents—”

“Allisana?” Alli interrupted. “So you named me after her?”

Mrs. Silvano nodded. “I missed her, you see. And your father was no good at coming up with names.”

“But Procopia would have been a good name!” Mr. Silvano cried.

Alli whispered a thankful prayer that her father wasn’t allowed to have his way about her name. “So you and Aunt Anna grew apart?”

Mrs. Silvano nodded again. “Our differences started to become a little bit more obvious in high school. I veered towards the more unpopular crowd, and she started to hang out with the ‘elite’, as I called them. I didn’t like the way she acted anymore, and she didn’t like me either, so we sort of grew apart.”

“That’s sad.”

“I know. But we’re still sisters, of course, and through it all we still looked out for each other, although we probably would have died before admitting how much we cared. But we were never as close as we were before. Eventually, I cut my hair while she kept it long, so people could tell us apart. We dressed differently, too. She always dressed in the latest fashion, as you can see from the picture, while I—well, let’s just say I have very unusual taste when it comes to clothes.”

Alli looked at her mother’s clothes in disbelief, for she thought they looked perfectly all right. She had always envied how her mother looked good in almost anything she wore.

“Well, I have improved in that aspect,” Mrs. Silvano said.

“But not just in that aspect, Mom!” Alli said. “I’ve seen how your office mates regard you now. You’re so popular among them. How could you have been—”

“People change,” Mrs. Silvano said. “What you are in high school won’t determine your future.”

“Are you sure?” Alli said.

“Yes,” her mother said firmly. “I’m sure. I can see a little bit of what you’re going through now, Alli—don’t deny it, I know you because you’re my daughter—and I’m sure it seems hopeless now, but it won’t be like that forever.”

Alli felt another lump form in her throat. “Thanks, Mom,” she murmured.

“As I was saying, we drifted apart,” Mrs. Silvano said. “I didn’t like her friends, and she didn’t like mine. In fact, she hated my best friend, Diane; I think it was also jealousy on her part. But despite that, we still got on okay—we’d always like to trade insults, but it was just our way of showing affection. But she changed when we met Michael. No, everything changed.”

“Who’s Michael?” Alli asked. She glanced at her father. His expression was unreadable.

“He’s a very, very strange young man we met twenty-three years ago,” Mrs. Silvano said.
“And my sister was in love with him.”

“Strange? Why?”

Her mother shifted her gaze to the floor. “You might think I’m crazy.”

Alli gave her a wry smile. “Try me, Mom.”

“W-well,” Mrs. Silvano stammered. She sounded as if she had to force the next words out of her mouth. “H-he had abilities. Not just ordinary ones.”

“What do you mean?” Alli stiffened.

“Supernatural ones,” her mother said, as if she herself did not believe what she was saying. “Like the stuff you can only read about.”

She took a deep breath. “Magic.”

———-

“It happened twenty years ago,” Mrs. Silvano began. “We were fifteen. We went on a hike up on a mountain for a school field trip, but Diane, Anna, and I got separated from the others. We were arguing then. I blamed Anna for separating us from the others, because she hung back to change her shoes (whatever possessed her to wear high heels on a hike, anyway?), and when we got up to follow the others, she insisted she knew where we were going, even when Diane really felt that we should go another way. So we were lost, and I told her hotly that she always believed she was good at everything, when in fact she wasn’t.

“And then–completely by accident, mind you—Anna pushed me over a cliff. I fell onto a ledge not far below. I hit my head on a rock and lost consciousness.

“Anna and Diane couldn’t reach me, and they didn’t know where to get help either. Anna said she was screaming her head off just in case someone would hear them—and someone did come. She said a young man about our age suddenly appeared beside me in a sort of shimmer, and lifted me up. He shimmered out again and reappeared beside them, carrying me in his arms.

“Anna screamed and ran to hide behind a tree, but Diane stayed beside me. I don’t know what Diane must have felt then, because she never told me—in any case, I never exactly understood her, either, even though we were really good friends. There were some things my best friend just knew, without us telling her anything.

“She stayed with me and the boy though, so maybe she thought the boy could be trusted and would not do us harm? She said the boy only examined my wounds. I was bleeding profusely, and she had used several towels to stop it, but to no avail. The boy asked her if there was anyone who could heal me nearby. She said no. He looked extremely worried at that.

“He then placed a hand over me, and he said, mostly to himself, ‘I have no choice. She’ll die if I don’t do this.’ His hand then seemed to glow blue with a kind of strange power, and then all my wounds disappeared.”

Alli stared at her mother. She had known her to be a great skeptic of all things paranormal and bizarre for all her life, and yet now, she was speaking of a mysterious boy with a strange power. She even looked as if she did believe it.

And the boy’s hand had glowed blue—it reminded her of the ring.

“I thought it wasn’t true at first, when Diane told me the story,” Mrs. Silvano added. “But I also couldn’t believe that she would lie about something like that. And when my sister corroborated the story—well, I didn’t know what to think anymore. But I chalked it up to a temporary madness on both their parts, so I thought nothing of that after.

“After I was healed, I finally woke up. Diane told me the whole story, and I merely laughed at her. I did thank the boy, though. He just smiled, and we left the clearing and tried to find the others again. Anna finally got the courage to follow us, and the four of us were able to talk along the way.”

“‘What’s your name?’ Diane asked him.

“‘Well, my real name’s Michael,’ the boy replied. ‘Although in the slave pens they usually call me Lepidus. They never do call us by our real names. It degrades us, they say.’

“Anna and Diane both stared at him.

“‘Slave pens? What in the world are you talking about?’ Anna asked.

“‘Where are you from, anyway?’ I added. He must have been a foreigner then, I thought. I felt sorry for him, because he did look as if he had gone through a rough time through the years.

“He looked at us, a number of emotions passing through his face. First there was surprise, then sudden realization, then embarrassment and a little bit of guilt. He looked away, and only said, ‘I don’t think you would know where that is, and it’s best you not know. It’s a miserable place.’

“‘But where is that place?’ Anna persisted. ‘What continent? Surely you must know that, at least!’

“The boy looked even more uncomfortable, and no longer could look at us. But my sister kept asking him things about himself. I tugged at her sleeve to tell her to stop, but she only ignored me.
“‘Anna, no,’ Diane interrupted. She put a comforting hand on Michael’s shoulder. ‘If he doesn’t want to talk about it, let’s not ask anymore.’

“They smiled at each other after that. There was something, well, different in that look they exchanged. I can’t explain it, either, but I sort of knew that something was going to happen between them. Eventually.
“And I knew about what my sister felt for him, too.” She put a hand over her heart. “Strange as it may sound, I felt it. Maybe it’s a twin thing, but— I knew she would fall for him eventually. But I’m not sure why she liked him. Maybe it was because he had those strange abilities and that power, or because there was this whole mystery to him and that’s always appealing, or maybe because he wasn’t too bad-looking himself—I really don’t know. But from that day on, I knew trouble was going to start. She didn’t fall in love with him instantly, but she did, eventually, so I was right.”

She laughed. “God, I sound like Diane. But she was always right. I thought I was just being silly.”

“She’s also really mysterious,” Alli said. “Your best friend.”

“I know,” Mrs. Silvano said. “That’s why she and Michael got along really well, I think. Anyway, I thought we weren’t going to see anymore of him, but then, the week after that, he entered the school as a late enrollee. We got along well with him—he was actually very nice, although strange—but not in a bad way. He just seemed not very used to certain behaviors of other people, and customs—it strengthened the impression I had that he was a foreigner from a strange land. He kept on taking popular expressions literally and stuff like that—”

Like Lisa, Alli thought.

“But he never showed any of his abilities again, except for that one time Diane cut her finger while handling some broken glassware in the lab. He used his healing powers again. I never really saw how the healing process was, but I did see that her wounds were gone the moment he let go of her hand, the skin whole and unbroken.

“Diane was the one closest to him; I had always been particularly shy of him. I could see that Anna hated how close he was to her, and she really tried to get Michael to like her. She really did fall in love with him, because she broke up with your father right away—I’m sorry, dear.” She looked at her husband in concern.

“I’m fine,” Mr. Silvano said. He managed a smile. “Past is past, so they say.”

Mrs. Silvano squeezed his hand. “I didn’t realize that she was that obsessed with Michael, however, because she was always a bit of a flirt. She always seemed to be falling in love every month. I thought it was just a phase, but as I found out later, it wasn’t.

“College came, and Diane and Michael left to study abroad. Anna was crushed when she learned that Michael was going to leave, but after a few weeks, she was almost her old self.”

“Almost?” Alli asked.

“Yes, almost.” Mrs. Silvano’s face was grave. “She was still popular among boys, but she never had another boyfriend again. There was this one guy constantly with her, and I found that fairly suspicious. But when I asked her about it, she said he was just a friend, and I didn’t say anything more about it.”

“Who was he?”

“I never got to know his name,” Mrs. Silvano said. “She called him by a strange name—Pray-something. It was merely an alias, or maybe a term of endearment. I’m not sure.
“Then college started, and eventually, I finally started being less shy, and I also started to become a bit popular. But as for my sister, she sank more and more into isolation. Finally, the only friends she had in the university were me and that guy. Our roles reversed; now I was the one who was popular. I do have your father to thank too, though. He helped me get over my shyness, and I started doing well in school too.”

Mr. Silvano smiled fondly at her. “You really did it all by yourself, through your own efforts. Did you know your mother graduated magna cum laude, Alli?”

“Yes,” Alli said. “And I really envy you, Mom.”

“You can do it too, dear.” Mrs. Silvano said, smiling down at her. “Trust me.”
She continued her story. “I only saw Diane and Michael again after ten years, when they came to visit. They even brought their child with them. I wasn’t surprised, though, I knew that they had already married, because Diane and I had kept correspondence through the years. But I never told Anna. I was afraid she was going to take it badly—and she did when she found out eventually—and in any case, those days we hardly talked anymore.

“I was so glad to see them again, and so was Anna—well, at first. When she discovered that Diane and Michael had married, she lapsed again into isolation; she refused to go out of her room, and only came out when that guy I mentioned called for her.

“And then, Anna left home a few days after Diane and Michael came to visit us. I tried looking for her, but I couldn’t find her. Then a day after her she left, Diane disappeared, along with her child. Michael went to look for them, but then he too, dropped out of sight.

“I never heard from any of them ever again.”

To be continued

It was the tenth time that Alli had heard that coming from the same recorded female voice; she was already tired, but she dialed again anyway. She had not spoken a word on the way back to their house.

To her surprise, her father was quiet. He seemed intent only on driving. He leaned heavily on the steering wheel, and gripped it so tightly that Alli thought it would break. This really made her worry. She had thought her father would be his old, annoying, distracting self and fill the silence with various theories on where her mother could have gone, but he only pursed his lips and kept his eyes on the road.

“She could just be waiting for us at home,” she ventured.

“I hope so,” her father said.

He sounded very much as if he doubted it, but Alli tried again anyway. “Or with a friend?”

“I hope so.”

“Or on an errand?”

This time her father did not say anything. She looked at him for several long minutes, but he still did not speak. She had not thought it possible, but she realized that her father could take some things seriously, after all.

What do you know, Dad? she wanted to ask him. It had never occurred to her that maybe he had his share of secrets as well, just like her mother. Maybe if she had tried to get to know them both more before the events had overtaken them—

“Is there something you’re not telling me, Alli?”

Alli blinked and took several seconds before answering. It was strange to hear him say those words aloud, just when she was thinking of asking him the same thing.

“Me?” Alli said. She gulped. “What would I keep from you?” She gave him a silly grin to cover up her distress. “Well, actually, I never told you, I do have a crush in school. His name’s Neil—”

Her father did not even crack a smile. “I wasn’t talking about school,” he said.

“Oh.”

Her father glanced at her, his eyes large and sad. “Did your mother tell you anything?”

“No, Dad,” Alli said. She didn’t tell me anything because I didn’t let her, she thought in shame. “I have no idea why she would run off like this—”

Her father slumped in his seat. “I see. She doesn’t tell me anything, either! Sometimes I wish she would—”
She put a hand on his shoulder. “Dad—”

“Well, it doesn’t matter.” After a few minutes of silence, her father announced to no one in particular, “We’re home.”

Alli got out of the car and opened the gate, and she watched him through the car window as he drove the car into their garage. It was perfectly obvious that he was still lost in his thoughts (he almost backed the car into one corner of the gate and then almost ran over Alli herself). She wondered if he had at least an inkling of where her mother went.

Mr. Silvano stepped out of the car and ran towards the house without another word.

“Adie?” he cried when he reached the front door. He threw his whole weight onto the door, but unfortunately it did not budge, as it was locked. He did not even so much as wince at the pain, and only proceeded to get his keys. “Adie!” His hands shook and he dropped the keys to the ground thrice.

“Dad, let me.” She grabbed the keys from the ground on his third attempt, and opened the door.

“Adie!” Mrs. Silvano was not sitting in the living room as Alli had half-expected her to be, and not in the kitchen or in the dining room.

“Adie! Adie!” Mr. Silvano called out for her again and again as they checked the upstairs bedrooms, but she was not there either. Things looked exactly as they had left them that morning; not a single crease on the bed covers, not a single pillow out of place. Even the bottles of cosmetics on the dresser were untouched.

Her father collapsed onto the bed. He took his cell phone from Alli and dialed. He put it down a few minutes later, the dismay on his face betraying that he had only gotten the recording as well.

“Maybe she’ll pick up soon,” Alli said. Her father only nodded and dialed again.

She glanced at her mother’s cabinet, and was sorely tempted to open it—who knew what secrets lay inside it? But she noticed that her father looked close to tears, so she left the room to give him privacy. She would have time to look into her mother’s things tomorrow. Maybe she could go back to the journal her mother gave her. There should be clues there—

She thought of Alice. It would really be much easier if she could have some help. But no—she had decided already that it was best that the other two girls would leave. At least no one else would get hurt.

Still…

She sighed, and stepped into her room.

She screamed as someone jumped out from her bed and enveloped her in a fierce hug. She almost burst out crying as she realized who it was—not out of fright, but out of relief.

“Surprise!” Lisa exclaimed.

“Finally,” Alice said from Alli’s study desk, as if it was the most ordinary thing in the world for her to still be there, “we’ve been waiting for hours.”

——–

“I—I really thought you had left—”

“We certainly can’t leave you alone, can we?” Alice smiled at Alli, who was still crying and smiling at the same time. “Look, I was mad, a little, but I would really hate to leave you, with all the horrible things happening here. And Lisa refused to leave, too.”

“I like your world,” Lisa said fervently. “I can’t think of leaving it. And you—oh! I would feel really, really bad if we left you alone here! And the things Alice spoke to me about—”

Alice nodded and lowered her voice. “I think there’s something really big going on, you see. Who gave you the ring? Why is it that powerful? And—” She looked at her arm, and shivered.

“That other Alli,” Lisa whispered. “She was really scary—”

“She didn’t hesitate to fire at us,” Alice said. “Granted, she could have come from a universe really distant from yours, Alli, but with the ring’s own powers and all—I think it’s important to know why she turned out like that. And why she would have powers. Maybe she’s really closer to our universes than we think.”

Alli looked at Alice. “Do you think that we also have—”

Alice shrugged. “I wish we did. But as of the moment we’re completely ordinary—except for Lisa, I don’t know—”

“I am a favored one,” Lisa said sadly. “But as I said, I have no abilities.”

“Sometime you’d have to tell us more about your world.” Alice looked about to go into that subject, but as Lisa looked near tears again, she let the matter go for the moment. “Well then, so that’s that. Nothing we can do about it. But somewhere along the way, we could have turned out like that powerful Alli. And I think it has something to do with whatever Mom wanted to tell you.” She sighed. “Did you have a chance to talk to her yet?”

“Mom’s missing.”

“What? Oh no!”

Alli told them about this afternoon. Alice shook her head and said, “I hope she’s all right. I do think—though I have no real logical basis, except for this strong feeling—that we are all in danger.

“I thought then we still had the ring, at least,” she continued. “Even though it’s really hard to use. But at least it has some power to protect us. But—” She looked down at the floor and clenched her fists. “We lost the ring.”

Alli let out a little cry of dismay at that, but in truth she wasn’t too alarmed. She had wanted to get rid of the ring, and she didn’t agree with Alice that they could use it to protect themselves. Using it had such dire consequences, and could even end up harming them while they tried to use it to defend themselves, so she felt they were better off without it. But now Alice and Lisa had no way of returning to their world—she decided to think about that only when the time really came.

“We didn’t really mean to,” Alice said. She was unable to keep the shame and self-hatred from her voice. “I’m really sorry. I’m not worried about myself or Lisa—I’m sure we’ll think of a way to get home eventually. But we need it to protect us.”

“It’s okay, Alice. How did it happen, anyway?”

“I only thought—maybe the ring could lead us to whoever gave it to you. So we could at least know why—and what the heck do you—we—have to do with the whole thing.”

“The ring is very difficult to use,” Alli said. “I understand.”

“No,” Alice cried as she shook her head. “I phrased the wish correctly. I’m sure of it. It worked—it was the ring itself that acted oddly. We managed to follow it before it disappeared. But you see, it kept bringing us to various places, and we didn’t even have enough time to look around! It felt almost as if it couldn’t make up its mind where to go. First it led us to back to the school, to the faculty lounge, but we only had time enough to register where we were before the ring flickered again and brought us to a street near here, I’ve passed it through school so many times—”

“You have such nice street names, Alli,” Lisa said. “Camia. Alice told me it was a flower. Could you show it to me sometime?”

Alice—with a look of long-suffering—said that yes, they would, and continued. “Then it led us to a cemetery—I have no idea where that is, though. The ring kept flickering, as if it was still not in the right place, but at least we stayed there for a much longer time.” She paused. “We saw someone there.”

“We saw him at your school,” Lisa put in. “He was a master, I think—”

“One of the teachers,” Alice hastened to explain, in response to Alli’s confused look. “That’s just what Lisa calls them.”

“Really?” Alli nodded. It did make sense, if the ring had brought them to the faculty lounge. “Who?”

“He’s not in my world,” Alice said. “Or even Lisa’s. So I don’t know his name. But maybe you know him? His eyes are really distinctive. They’re so dark, jet-black even, and—”

Lisa nodded. “His eyes were so full of anger. At everything.”

Alli’s eyes widened in realization. “Mister Montana.”

“And the weird thing was, he looked up from one of the graves and glared at us,” Alice continued. “He then muttered something I could not make out and then—”

She shivered again. “The ring glowed again, and we were surrounded by that blue light—only it wasn’t blue anymore, but red. And then we found ourselves back here, in front of the house. And the ring was no longer on my finger.”

“He took it,” Alli said. “I bet. Then that means he has powers too?”

“Maybe it was a coincidence.”

“But he always seemed as if he hated me particularly,” Alli said. “I never understood it either.” She took a deep breath. “I could confront Mr. Montana about the ring, but I’m really scared of him.”

Alice nodded. “I know how you must feel. I didn’t like him all that much either. And I think it would be dangerous, so please don’t.”

“I’ll just try to investigate things discreetly, then.”

Lisa shook her head at them. “I know he does look scary,” she said. “But…I didn’t feel afraid of him. I felt sorry for him.”

“Sorry?” Alli and Alice said together.

“He must be lonely,” Lisa said. “You’d have to be, when you’re that angry.”

“Well,” Alice said wryly, “I hope that no matter how angry and lonely he is, he doesn’t do anything to all of us.”

——–

Alli brought the pillows and sleeping bags she used for school trips up to her room. She glanced at her parents’ bedroom. The door was closed, and she could imagine her father still on the bed, still trying to call her mother.

“We’ve had a really exciting day,” she said when she entered the room. “So we really need to sleep now. Yes, even you, Lisa.”

“But I don’t feel sleepy!” Lisa said. “Your world is so nice. Maybe you could tell us about your day, Alli? I mean when we left, did anything nice happen to you?”

Alli laughed. She arranged the sleeping bags on the floor. “It isn’t really all that exciting.” She explained to them about being forced to join The Papyrus. “And with the ring gone, I guess I’m stuck in the club. But I made a new friend, which makes everything a little bit better.” She smiled when she said this, though she could not understand why her smile could be that big.

“Really?” Lisa exclaimed. “What was his name?”

“Sam,” Alli said. “Samuelson Rivera, actually. He was really nice, and he even allowed me to read his poems—it was actually embarrassing. I was reading over his shoulder and then he—”

She trailed off when she realized that Lisa was grinning from ear to ear. “Oh, you must take us to meet him!” Lisa said. She clapped her hands and hugged Alli. “I can’t wait; I wonder what he would be like here—”

Alice was immediately at Lisa’s side, shaking her head vehemently. She whispered something in Lisa’s ear.

“W-what’s going on?” Alli raised an eyebrow at them.

“Oh, you see,” Lisa started to explain, “Sam is—” but Alice waved her hands to stop her from talking, and she—miraculously—took the hint.

“Is there something I should know about Sam?” Alli said, still bewildered. “Come on, tell me—”

“Oh, look at the time!” Alice said. She dived under the blankets. “We have to go to sleep!”

“Alice!”

But a snore was all she got in reply. Lisa followed suit, and although she was less successful at pretending to be asleep, she too did not yield to Alli’s pleas.

Alli gave up asking them about it, and went to sleep herself.

———-

There was a flash of red light, and then a numbness, which started at her stomach, where the curse hit her. Soon it would be all over. She felt immensely relieved, though. At least her friend was safe, and only she was going to die—

A blue light wrapped around her, warm and comforting. When the blue light faded away, she realized she was in another room. There were three young women in what seemed to be a bedroom. They all looked like her, and one of them even had a mark on her forehead, like she had. They were all fast asleep, and seemed to be at peace.

At peace. It was a lovely thought.

But she didn’t want to frighten them, so she summoned the last of her strength, and limped out of the room. There was a small room underneath the flight of stairs at the end of the corridor. The room was empty save for a clutter of unused things: a dusty dull house, a small study desk with one of its legs broken, a pile of photograph albums.

She let herself fall to the floor near the albums, and rested her head on a picture of her mother and father.

I’m sorry, Mom, Dad, she thought. The numbness had spread to her arms and legs, and a few minutes later, she coughed out blood. But there was no pain.

———-

Alli started awake and looked around the room. She could have sworn she heard something, but as she was the only one awake, she had probably dreamed the whole thing.

From a corner of her eye she saw Alice sit up awake. “So now, about Sam—” When she turned to face Alice, though, her alter ego was fast asleep again, her head hidden underneath a pillow.

She grinned in spite of herself. They really don’t want me to know about him, do they? She wondered why the heck they would possibly be so secretive now—

She suddenly blushed, but with a determination borne by an utter lack of self-confidence (she knew it would be impossible, after all), she pushed that—not entirely unpleasant—thought out of her head. She dressed for school, unable to keep the smile from her face.

She beamed at Alice and Lisa before she left, and adjusted their blankets. Thank you, she whispered before she left; really, really grateful that they had come back for her.

———-

There was a curious assortment of things in Alli’s room when she came back from school that day. Lisa greeted her with another hug, and Alice looked up from their mother’s journal, which she had been scrutinizing all day.

“Oh finally,” Alice said, with a touch of impatience in her voice. “We’re glad you’re here at last. No word of Mom yet?”

Alli shook her head. “Dad still seems out of sorts without Mom around. When he drove me to school he drove the car up onto the sidewalk, and if I hadn’t shaken him to his senses, we would have stayed there all the way to school. And he almost ran into Sam at the parking lot this afternoon! Poor guy, I’m glad he’s so nice and wasn’t even hurt or angry.”

“Did Sam walk you to the parking lot?”

“No, he was just going to his own car—” Alli did not miss the glances that Lisa and Alice traded, and so she said, “Now, about Sam—”

Alice sidestepped the forthcoming question. “Did you go to Mom’s office again?”

Alli sighed. “Fine, if you want to be stubborn. Yes, we went there. She didn’t go to work today. And she’s still not answering her cell phone—” She stopped talking to swallow the lump in her throat, and to blink away her tears.

“She’ll come back,” Lisa said. She hugged Alli again. “She’ll never abandon you or Dad, I know it.”

“We found some things,” Alice said after some moments of silence, “in Mom’s cabinet.” She motioned towards the pile on the bed. Alli lifted one of the objects up, and stared at it. They were baby clothes—for a boy, too, it seemed, which puzzled Alli. They were all in various shades of blue: little pajamas and t-shirts and cloth diapers and even a miniature polo shirt, which had been probably reserved for special occasions. But her mother no longer had any close relatives, no siblings, no aunts or uncles they still had contact with—even her grandparents were long dead. She didn’t know of any male cousins, either. And Alli was the only child—

As far as she knew, at least.

“We also found this,” Alice said. She held up a small bottle filled with a strange-looking fluid, ash-colored. “Lisa was really frightened when she saw it, and begged me to put it out of sight. But I had to show it to you.”

Lisa’s face had gone pale. “It’s a very horrible thing,” she whispered. She gripped Alli’s arm. “Please, please throw it away! I didn’t know you had this in your world too—surely it cannot belong to such a wonderful place as this!”

Alli leaned forward. “What is it?”

“Poison,” Lisa said. “It can kill you instantly, with just one sip. But you won’t look dead—you’ll still be breathing and moving and repeating things said to you and doing things you are ordered to—but nothing more.” She closed her eyes and buried her face in her hands. “I saw the King give this to one of the members of his court once. He is an evil, evil man.”

“What is Mom doing with such a thing?” Alli demanded.

“I don’t know,” Alice said. “Or maybe it’s not Mom.” She indicated the journal. “I don’t think Mom wrote this, you see. It just doesn’t sound like her. Didn’t you think so too when you read it?”

“It was really odd,” Alli said. “But…” She looked down at the floor. “I’m afraid I don’t know Mom enough to know how she normally would sound like. I don’t talk to her much.”

“That’s a problem,” Alice said. “In any case, I really don’t think it’s her. So other than these, we have nothing.” She shrugged. “I think whoever wrote this journal was connected to the King in Lisa’s world, but I could be wrong.”

“Who was this King in your world, Lisa?” Alli said. “A famous person here, maybe?”

“I don’t know who he was,” Lisa said. “They said his name was Pravus. But other than that, I know nothing more, except that he is an evil man. Mom really hated him.”

“Are you comfortable enough to talk about your world now?” Alice said gently.

Lisa hung her head.

“All right,” Alice said. “But promise me that if we really need to know something about your world because it would help us, you’ll tell us, okay?”

Lisa nodded.

“That’s probably enough for now,” Alice went on. “We’ll go look in the other parts of the house tomorrow. I’ll read this journal again, in case I discover anything. You just study now.”

“Not until you tell me about Sam first—” Alli tried to grab the journal, but Alice lifted it out of reach.

“What will come will come, Alli,” Alice said. She looked earnest this time. “I don’t think it’ll be okay to tell you anything because it might change events, and you would regret knowing anything beforehand.” She suddenly grinned. “Besides, it’s so much fun to see you squirm because you’re the only one who’s not in on the secret—”

“Alice!”

“Now say nothing more about it,” Alice said. “Or I won’t help you in your homework.”

Alli grunted. “I had no idea I could be this manipulative.”

“It’s so much fun,” Alice said. “You should try it sometime.”

And the night passed without any further excitement. Alli should have been satisfied with having things going normally—under the circumstances, at least—but she still kept glancing out the window, in hope that her mother would return soon. That would be added excitement and a disturbance of their peace, sure, but a welcome one.

———-

It was morning again, and Alli sat up and turned her alarm clock off. She stared out the window. It was still dark, but she hoped it would be a bright, sunny day later—an ordinary nice day. She saw one of her alter egos—she thought it was Alice—already up and about, and rummaging through the clothes in Alli’s closet.

“Good morning,” Alli said. She rubbed her eyes. “You’re up really early—”

And then the other girl screamed.

Alli jumped up from the bed and looked around her in alarm. She braced herself for an attack—hadn’t Alice warned them that they could be in danger? Now she really regretted losing the ring.

From the sleeping bags on the floor Alice and Lisa stirred. They were at Alli’s side at once. She pointed at the other girl at the cabinet, who was still screaming.

But something was wrong—the girl’s back was still turned to them, so she could not have been screaming because of them, or anything else she saw in the room. She was only staring at her closet and throwing clothes around—

“God, Adam, you are so dead!” The other girl kept screaming. “Where are all my clothes?” She stomped her feet and finally turned to the other girls. Alli was no longer surprised when she screamed again.

“We’re you,” Alice explained. “Please calm down. We’re not going to hurt you—”

“What—why—how—”

“You’re in a different universe,” Alli said. “You know, parallel universes and all—we’re you, but not exactly, because of one vital event in our pasts—”

“Oh please.” The other girl rolled her eyes, an action that strangely looked elegant on her. “Come on. You’re me? That’s really insulting.”

“What?” Alli herself was insulted at such a remark, but she realized that this particular alter ego of hers did look different from Alice and Lisa. The other girl seemed slimmer, more lithe. There were no pimples on her face, while Alli—and even Alice and Lisa—had too much of them on their noses and foreheads. And she moved with a grace that reminded Alli of Cecilia as well.

The other girl looked pretty much how Alli wished she could look like.

“This is a pretty elaborate practical joke, even for Adam,” the other girl said. “So weird—Adam!” She yelled again. “Dad! Aunt Anna! That little brat did something again—”

Alice moved to cover the other girl’s mouth to stop her from screaming, but was too late, as the other Allisana already ran from the room, still yelling.

“We have to stop her!” Alice said. Alli nodded, and peeked out of the door, hoping against hope that her father was still asleep despite all that noise the other girl was making—

The hope was in vain. Her father stood at his bedroom door, yawning and stretching. Alli quickly ducked again into her room, but kept the door open, and tried to think of a way out of this.

“What’s wrong, Alli?” she heard her Dad say.

“God, Dad, when will you ever stop shortening my nickname?” the other snapped. “It’s Alyssa. More sophisticated, see? Aunt Anna told you so too a hundred times—”

She heard her father gasp, and Alli finally dared to stick her head out of the door to see what was going on.

Her father was gripping the other girl—Alyssa—by the shoulders. He was shaking so violently that she shook too.

“How do you know about Anna?” he breathed.

“Of course I know her,” Alyssa said, her words coming out in small bursts due to the shaking, but still managing to sound snotty. “Duh! She’s Mom’s sister, how the heck could I not know about her? Hello, Dad?”

“What the hell—” Alli looked at Alice and Lisa, but they all had identical expressions on their faces.

None of them had even the slightest idea that their mother had a sister.

To be continued