“I am Mrs. Aster,” the fairy said. “Since no one here has the manners to properly introduce anyone.” She fluttered up to the side of the table and appeared to grow instantly. She became a stately woman, very old, but still very shapely and easy to look at. She wore a gown of silver sparkles and a very small circle of silver with small diamonds set around her head to keep back her long silver hair.

“The wings.” James noticed that they were gone.

“Now I could hardly walk around on Earth with wings, could I?” Mrs. Aster responded with an enchanting smile. She took a seat between Beth and David.

“Yes, well, you can call me plain old Deathwalker,” Mister Deathwalker said. He slipped into the seat beside Chris. “I’m too old to worry much about that other part. Anyway, our cook is Mrs. Copperpot.” The dwarf curtsied a little and the children heard the crackling in those old knees. “And you are very fortunate to have her to cook. She mastered the art some three hundred years ago.”

“I wouldn’t say mastered,” Mrs. Copperpot said shyly. She sat beside James who wanted to say she had mastered the art as far as he was concerned, but presently his mouth was too full to speak.

“And this,” Mister Deathwalker stopped in mid-introduction. “Where has that old coot got to?” he asked. They all heard a loud crash from the back room, followed by the words.

“I’m all right! I’m all right! I just slipped on nothing. You shouldn’t leave nothing lying around just anywhere, you know.” A six-foot-tall, most ancient man appeared in the door, supported by a large cane of hickory wood. He had on a scarlet ruffled shirt, a golden vest, complete with pocket watch and fob, something like a tuxedo dinner jacket with tails, and terribly pointed shoes beneath the long black pants that covered very long legs. “Inaros of Constantinople at your service,” he introduced himself, bowed regally, and tipped his hat which looked like an alpine hiker’s hat, complete with a feather on the side.

“He has pointed ears.” David noticed right away.

“Of course he does.” Mister Deathwalker whispered. “Most elves do, you know.”

“An elf?” David got excited.

“Yes.” Mister Deathwalker continued a little louder for the benefit of all. “And nearly deaf.”

“Deft?” Inaros sat beside David and leaned over to let the young man touch his pointed ears. Apparently, David was not the first young man in his experience who needed the assurance of that reality. “Why, I haven’t practiced the art of slight-of-hand in years, but I do thank you for the compliment, Professor Deathwalker, and as for the other part, plain Deathwalker rather than Mister Deathwalker, if I heard aright; might we say Dreamwalker? Perchance to dream, eh? Perchance to dream.”

Mrs. Aster leaned over to whisper to Beth and Chris. “He fancies himself an actor.”

“Yes, those were the days.” Inaros went on without having heard a thing, or perhaps he ignored the comment. “It was the Kairos, Peter Van Dyke, who introduced me to William, you know. A horse. A horse. My kingdom for a horse.”

“Shakespeare?” Beth wondered.

“Indeed. Is there any other William worthy of the name?” Inaros asked. “That was back when I was on the stage, a real stage, mind you, not like the silly things they call plays today. I became the inspiration for Oberon, you know. Some incidental time in my younger days.” Inaros held his chin up as if posing for a picture.

“Peter Van Dyke?” Chris started on another track.

“Your father in this life.” Inaros nodded. “Peter Van Dyke lived as Captain of the Golden Hawk, scourge of the Spanish Main.” He lifted his cane and pretended he had a sword. He almost knocked over the crystal decanter.

“My dad was a pirate?” James whispered to himself.

“My dad was a pirate?” David repeated it loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Not exactly your dad, but the Kairos, certainly,” Deathwalker said.

“Hardly.” Inaros looked offended by the pirate suggestion. “He was a Privateer, with papers from the queen, herself. After destroying the Spanish Armada, we took to the Caribbean. “Have at ye! Make all sail! Two points off the starboard bow Mister Givens! The Golden Hawk was the fastest ship afloat. Many a merchant feared the Flying Dutchman.”

“The Flying Dutchman?”

“Aye-Aye, Captain. Of course, there were real pirates then, not like the silly ones today, or the ones up on the so-called big screen.” He made a disgusted face. Clearly, he did not think much of Hollywood acting. “But that was some years ago, a good while before you young urchins ever came to mind. Like sweet infants, you are.” He looked at the children and meant it as a compliment, but Beth pushed her head up.

“I’ll be twenty next spring,” she said, asserting her adult status.

Inaros smiled. “I just turned fifteen hundred,” he said, and Beth and Chris both swallowed hard.

“I first fought beside the Kairos when she was the Duchess Genevieve, back in the days of Charlemagne, at the battle of Tours.” He tried to lift his cane again for another try at the decanter, but Deathwalker held the stick to the ground, and Mrs. Aster interrupted.

“Charlemagne’s grandfather, Charles Martel fought at the battle of Tours, and the Kairos was Lady Margueritte back then.”

“Have some more taters.” Mrs. Copperpot tried Chris, but he felt stuffed and waved her off. James raised his hand. “Ah, my James is a good eater for a little one.” She smiled and loaded James’ plate with enough mashed potatoes for six people.

“Eh? Eh?” Inaros got miffed at the interruption.

“I said—” Mrs. Aster began, but Inaros interrupted her in turn.

“I heard what you said. I’m not deaf, woman, but I am pontificating. Since when do the facts stand in the way of a good story?”

“Oh, well, if you’re pontificating,” Mrs. Aster responded, curtly.

“Pontificate away,” Deathwalker encouraged.

“More milk?” Mrs. Copperpot poured some for David.

“Now, where was I?” Inaros asked and rubbed his ancient chin.

“Tours,” Chris suggested.

“The Kairos was Lady Margueritte.” Beth shook her head.

“Ah, yes.” Inaros looked up, but his eyes were not focused on the glowing ceiling so much as his mind tried to remember. “Lady Margueritte. The Kairos is always a fine Lady when living a female life, not like today, you know. She would never lower herself to be a flapper. Not her.”

“Like Doctor Mishka?” Mrs. Aster interjected.

Inaros looked slightly offended again. “Nadia was a respectable professional in her thirties. An educated woman. A Doctor.”

“But still a fine figure of a woman,” Deathwalker said. “She could get away with the short stuff. She had mighty fine legs.”

“I blame that Hollywood crowd.” Inaros confided to David, but his voice sounded loud enough for everyone to hear.

Chris pushed his plate away. Beth had already finished. David nibbled on a roll and sipped his milk. James began to stare. Everyone could see he was ready for bed.

“So, Okay,” Chris said. “Those are all lovely stories, but now I think we have some questions, like who are you and how did you get here?”

“How did we get here?” James whispered and yawned.