The red shack turned out to be a small barn.  There was a woman out front in overalls and grease up to her elbows, or so it appeared.  When she greeted Glen by tipping her head down and saying “Lord,” Alice took a second look.  The woman was beautiful and Alice began to think this was a standard thing for the Traveler.  It made her feel a twinge of envy because while she knew she was pretty in her own right, she felt like nothing compared to the women she had seen so far, including the women of the Traveler.  She concentrated.

            “Mirowen.”  Glen gave the woman a name.

            The woman, Mirowen moved when a man came out of the barn to join her and Alice caught a glimpse of pointed ears under the woman’s long and straight raven black hair.

            “An elf.”  Pumpkin whispered in Alice’s ear and Alice nodded to say she had just guessed.  The man, however, looked thoroughly human.

            “Emile.”  Lockhart named the man.

            “Director,” the man responded to Lockhart.

            “What are you two doing here?”  Glen asked the obvious question.

            “Nothing,” Mirowen said, but Glen frowned because he knew it was a lie.  Mirowen turned away from her Lord to look at the man.  “I don’t know what Emile may be doing since we are not speaking to each other.”

            The man looked at the elf and nodded before he turned again to the group.  “But it should be fun later when we make up,” he said.

            Glen was not buying it.  He pushed forward and the couple only made a passing stab at trying to stop him from entering the barn.

            “What the—what did you do?  Doctor Roberts!”  Glen shouted even though the Doctor followed him in and stood at his shoulder.

            “Emile.”  Mirowen nudged the man.  He looked at her with an expression that said she was equally culpable.

            The barn contained a ship–a sphere some thirty feet in diameter, but it was presently hard to see since so much of it had been taken apart.  There were plates off the outer hull stacked in the corner, and much of the insides were scattered around on several tables and the floor.  It still had the basic shape, but it would never fly again, at least not without a great deal of work.

            “What is it?”  The woman marine asked in a quiet voice that suggested wonder.

            “The Vordan fighter?”  Alice also wondered out loud and spoke over the marine.

            “A museum piece.”  Glen responded haphazardly.  His eyes were busy making an inventory of all the pieces he could see, but his mouth went on to explain.  “This is, or was, an escape pod from an Humanoid battle cruiser, and a high ranking family at that.  I saw one in a museum once hundreds of years in the future.  We found this one in New Jersey some years ago.”  Glen ducked his head into a hole in the ship, but he kept speaking and no one interrupted.

            “I recall at the time I figured this ship had to be two-thousand years old.  It turned out there was a Wolv still on board in suspension, and that was trouble, let me tell you.”  Glen pulled his head back out and frowned at Emile and Mirowen.  “This thing could approach light speed and had a better weapons array than all the Vordan ships combined—as long as it was working.”

            “And this was just an escape pod?”  The marine sergeant stepped up.  “I would like to see the battle cruiser it came from.”

            “Two thousand years old?”  The woman marine was still in a state of wonder, but again her words were buried under Emile’s outburst.

            “But it is dead, completely.  No power.”

            Glen reached back inside the ship and touched several places on the inner wall—a portion of the wall that was still there.  Immediately there was a hum and after a moment some lights came on.  “Ten thousand year half-life batteries,” Glen said and he went back to his inventory.

            “That tears it.”  Alice huffed.  “Pumpkin, would you go visit Boston?”  Pumpkin flittered off Alice’s shoulder while Alice put down her laptop and began to write furiously on her steno pad.  Pumpkin hesitated.

            “I’m supposed to ask,” the fairy said.

            Boston grinned like the Cheshire cat at the idea.  “Yes, please.”  She spoke through that great array of teeth.  Pumpkin waited for no further invitation.  She took a seat on Boston’s shoulder and only tugged briefly on Boston’s short red hair—hair that would offer little cover.

            Lockhart watched the whole thing with a grin of his own.  He also saw Mirowen elbow Doctor Roberts in the ribs to get his eyes back on her and his mind back on topic.  They had been whispering.  He watched Alice the lawyer scribble on her pad before he sighed and wheeled his own wheelchair forward, hard as that was to do in the dirt and at his age.

            “So what now?” he asked.

            Glen pulled his head back out of the ship again, and the marines, who had been looking over his shoulder came with him.  “Now you get two more recruits.”

            “We don’t normally take grunts, as the Princess calls them.”

            Glen ignored the comment and considered the marines.  “Embassy?”  He asked the sergeant.

            “Yes, sir.  Don Thomas, and whatever you think of the President’s actions it seems to me you could use some grunts about now.  Miriam’s from the Pentegon.”

            Glen shook the sergeant’s hand and did not let go when he took a hand from the woman.  “Miriam?  Lebanese Christian?”

            “Yes, sir.”  The woman nodded.  “Very good, sir.  And I am sorry.  I just do secretarial.”

            “There, see?  Another file clerk.”  Glen spoke to Lockhart before turned to the marines and looked each in the eyes.  “Well, right now I need to change,” he said.  “Your first job for this crazy outfit is to hold on and promise not to let go.”  The marines looked at each other but said nothing.

            “Promise,” Lockhart said, sharply.

            “It’s tradition,” Glen added with a smile and a squeeze of each hand.  The marines nodded and Glen went away.  Martok the Bospori came to stand in his place.  Miriam just smiled, utterly fascinated by all of this, but Sergeant Thomas jumped back with a brief exclamation of surprise.

            “Someone always lets go,” Martok sighed in his deep Bospori voice.  The depth and tone sounded odd coming from one who was only five feet tall.  He looked human enough, though, if he did not smile and show off his canines, and if one did not get close enough to realize his hair was really black fur, and if he wore shades.  The yellow cat-like eyes were a bit of a giveaway.  Alice saw the eyes and guessed right away.

            “Martok.”

            “And pleased to meet you, too, Alice the lawyer who should be reviewing treaty clauses.”  He smiled to show her his full set of very sharp teeth.  “I’ll be a while so you have time to work.”  Alice dared not argue.  She swallowed and got her laptop.

            “Boston and I, and I guess Mrs. Pumpkin will go see about breakfast.”  Lockhart volunteered.  “I’ll try and get the limos and flatbed here as soon as I can, oh, and can we leave the three stooges out of it this time.”

            “What?  Moi?”  Martok spoke with the smile still in place.  “But watching humans hit each other over the head and pull hair and poke in the eyes is so funny.”  Lockhart was not buying it.  “Don’t worry.  This time I only see two stooges.”  Martok lost the smile and stared at Mirowen and Emile before he climbed fully into the ship.  “Roberts!”  He roared as soon as he got inside and everyone jumped.

            Glen got up early despite the fact that he had so little sleep in the night.  Pumpkin slept on the pillow on the floor next to Boston who was curled up in a ball and shivered against the cold tile.  As he rose, Glen took his hospital blanket and covered the girl, and he smiled because he managed to do it without waking her or the fairy.  Then he tip-toed towards the infirmary exit only to discover that Alice was up, waiting.

            “Don’t think you are going to get away,” she whispered.  “I have more questions now than ever.”

            Glen hushed her and took her hand to minimize the noise.  It didn’t help.  Pumpkin zoomed up to land on Glen’s shoulder before the door shut.

            “Where we going?” The fairy asked in the same kind of whisper Alice used. 

            “Apparently nowhere.”  Alice spoke out loud.  There was a soldier with a gun in the hallway.

            “Sir.  Mam.  I need to see your papers.”

            “What is this all about?”  Alice, the lawyer took the lead. 

            “Marines, Mam.  The President is taking over this operation, now I would appreciate seeing your papers.”

            “Pumpkin.  Go get our papers,” Glen said.

            “Yes, Lord,” Pumpkin responded and zoomed back into the room.  She turned the door handle with a bit of magic dust. and the poor marine got his first look at a real, live fairy.  His eyes got very big and his mouth opened wide.

            “That is very good, wouldn’t you say?”  Alice nudged Glen.  She decided to approach all of this from a different angle.  “My reaction was not nearly that photogenic.”

            “I don’t know—“ Glen hedged but Pumpkin returned before he could say more.

            “But we haven’t got any papers,” Pumpkin said as she hovered in Glen’s face.

            “Hey, hey!”  The marine caught two more marines in the hallway and waved them to join him.  The woman was instantly enchanted, but the man wanted to reach for his gun.”

            “None of that.”  Glen, Alice and the first marine, a sergeant spoke more or less together before Glen continued.

            “The director is in there, asleep.  You need to stay here and see she is not disturbed.”  He spoke to the trigger happy man before he turned to Pumpkin.  “You need to ride on Alice’s shoulder.  She has hair you can hide in.”  He turned to the sergeant.  “You are in over your head, but you are welcome to come along if you want to keep an eye on us.”  He turned to the woman marine.  “You need to tell the President he is ticking me off.  I told him we would be there this afternoon.”  He turned last to Alice who squinted as if the fairy might hurt when she  settled on her shoulder.  “And you need to be working on that treaty.”  Glen smiled.  “There, did I miss anyone?”

            The woman marine raised her hand and Glen nodded in her direction.  “Can I come, too?”

            “Sure, where are we going?”  Glen heard the words and turned around.  It was Lockhart in his wheelchair and Boston was behind him, yawning.

            “The assistant director.”  Glen identified Lockhart.  The Sergeant straightened up which caused the other two marines to come to attention.

            “Sir.  The President’s compliments.  He feels after the events of yesterday this base needs protecting.”

            Lockhart frowned.  Glen spoke up.  “Alice.  Open that laptop.  Check the Code of Establishment in the Charter, article 17, section c I think.  I believe you will find this organization was established to function independently from the three federal branches.  Neither the President nor the Congress has the right to send troops or even visit without asking first, or something to that effect.”

            “My God!”  Alice shrieked.  “This says the organization was established by the Continental Congress.  Look.  Look there.  John Adams.  Thomas Jefferson.”

            “Article 17.”  Glen interrupted and tapped the computer.  “I insisted that be in there.  Ben understood.”

            “Ben?”  Boston spoke through her yawn.

            “Ben Franklin.”  That woke her up.

            “I’ve read the Code.”  The voice came from down the hall.  All three marines snapped to serious attention and saluted.  The colonel returned their salute.  “The President figures you are so secret, who is going to know?”

            “I’ll know,” Glen said.  The Colonel was not impressed until Glen remembered where he saw this man before.  “What?  Area 51 get flattened when the Vordan brought their battleships to earth?”

            The Colonel stared at him for a second while Glen’s words sunk in  “Very perceptive,” the Colonel answered, but his words were overshadowed by the shouts.

            “What?  No!  When?”  The loudest shout was from behind the infirmary door.  Bobbi came barreling out, half-dressed.  “Are you sure?  Those battleships came to earth?”

            Glen nodded, gave Bobbi a good morning hug and started to walk at a quick pace toward the front door.  Alice jumped, closed the laptop and hurried to catch up.  Pumpkin complained about the bumpy ride.  The marine woman and the Sergeant were a step behind.  Lockhart came last, but Boston got up on the foot rests on the back of the wheelchair and Lockhart turned on the electric motor so they caught up quickly.  Glen felt bad about leaving Bobbi to deal with Colonel dipstick, but he had things to do.

            “The red shack still out back?” he asked.

            “Yep,” Lockhart answered.

            “The thing still on ice?”

            “Mostly,” Boston said.

The world has 6.9 billion people.  These United States, 311 million before the 2010 census results.

R. R. Bowker book industry report for 2009.

2009 more than 40% of Americans bought a book.  (2008 figure was over 50%).  Average age: 42.  With Fantasy (science fiction) being purchased (believe it or not) evenly by men and women (where women average 64% of all purchases in other genres of fiction and literature). 

From Literary insights:  Book industry Study Group

55% of (Hard) Science fiction is still bought by men, though 65% of all fiction purchases were made by women.  (We may assume (soft) Science fiction/fantasy tends toward more women purchasers).

Book editorial and marketing stats:

@7% of all fiction sales are in science fiction and fantasy (perhaps a bit more because this excludes occult and horror, all of those SF/F stories that get lumped in with mainstream or contemporary fiction and literature, and young adult.  I suppose a case could be made for 10%).

What does all this mean?

Well, sticking with just the U.S., we begin with 311 million people.

We first have to subtract the roughly 20% under 13 (the above statistics exclude them)

That leaves @ 250 million Americans.

40% of this is 100 million book purchasers.

53% of these peope read fiction. (Publisher’s Weekly)  That’s 53 million fiction readers.

7% of that number is roughly 3.5 million purchasers of science fiction and fantasy.

For me, that is a potential target audience of 3.5 million readers.  (A conservative estimate).  So all I have to do is figure out how to connect.  And the Author’s Guild suggests that 5,000 books is a good sell for fiction…  But how to connect?

Sure, there is the standard response found in the word of the decade: “Networking.”  Advertise your blog on forums, facebook, linked-in, twitter, winken, blinken and nod.  Give readers some samples to chew on. Etc. etc.  But I am not talking about simple advertising or even marketing.  I am talking about locating and connecting.  That is not quite the same thing… if you know what I mean…  So, any thoughts?

            In the morning, they set out for Cavan on foot, the van having been repossessed in the night.  Moira had to carry Mother most of the way, but she did not mind because the cat was warm.  After a short way, Moira cinched up her jacket, partially unzipped it and the cat was content to ride against her belly like a baby and peek out now and then to see where they were going.

            Mickey walked close to Moira the whole way, and Michaela never left his side.  At first Moira thought Michaela’s attention to Mickey was because of what was following her, but after a while she realized it was where Michaela wanted to be.  The others were content to follow behind with Prickles bringing up the rear; except for Ignatius who lead them by some supposed secret elf paths which he said would get them to Cavan much quicker than the normal roads; and Pumpkin who rode on Moira’s shoulder when she wasn’t flitting off to check out a leaf or smell a plant which, after a while, all looked alike to Moira.

            “Lady, the magic you displayed was amazing.”  Mickey spent a good part of the way praising her.  He could not say enough, but after the first few heady minutes, for Moira, it was more than enough.  “You just swatted away his traps like they were no more than flies.  Swat, swat!  I can do a little magic, but nothing like what you showed.”

            Moira smiled, wanly.  “Grandma says it isn’t magic, exactly.  It is more a matter of the blood, and natural like walking or breathing, though some of it is more like learning to ride a bicycle or even higher mathematics.  You know, some of it isn’t so easy.”  She tried to explain more than once, but Mickey was just too amazed to hear her.

            “And the way these people follow you.  Why, I never heard of elves and fairies and a hobgoblin no less doing what any person told them to do.”

            “You forgot the ogre,” Michaela pointed out quietly in case the ogre overheard.

            “The ogre!”  Mickey shouted and Michaela turned red.  “How could I forget the ogre?  It is all too amazing, I tell you.  Amazing!”

            Moira called for an early lunch in the hope that Mickey would take a break to fill his mouth with some food.  Mother got down and disappeared behind a tree.  Moira thought nothing of it until Ellean spoke sharply.

            “Quiet.  I hear something.”  Everyone got still and quiet for a few seconds before Macreedy spoke.

            “I hear it too.”

            “I’ve been hearing it for some time,” Ignatius put in.  “I did not say anything though because I didn’t want to worry anyone.”

            Moira looked at Michaela.  Her grandmother had explained something of the gift that this strictly mortal woman had but it did not make much sense until she began to see it in action.  Michaela looked full of hope and she looked into the trees as if she saw something no one else could see.

            “It sounds like a hammer.”

            “A very little hammer, like a tinker’s hammer.”

            “But not on tin or any metal, I think.

            “Hard to tell.”  Ignatius looked up.  “It stopped.”

            “I never heard it,” Mickey admitted.  Moira did not either, but she looked at Pumpkin and Pumpkin’s eyes looked very big for such a little fairy.

            After a minute, Mother came strolling back from the woods as if she did not have a care in the world.  She was followed by a little man who could not have been much over two feet tall.  The man had a carpet bag in his hand and came to a sudden halt as Mother settled down at Moira’s feet.  He dropped the bag which made a great thud on the hard ground as he stared for a minute at the collection of faces.

            “Sure an’ that will be enough of that.”  The little man muttered, picked up his bag and turned.

            “Hold it right there.”  Moira shouted.  Michaela looked at her, pleading in her eyes that she not let the little man get away.  The little man ignored Moira for two steps before his feet stuck fast to the turf, glued to the ground.

            “Hey!”  The man protested, but he was not going anywhere.  He mumbled over his feet, but it did not help.  He tried some golden dust, but it still did not help.  Finally, he tried his most forlorn face and pointed it in Moira’s direction and on any mortal it would have been effective, but Moira was fuming at the moment so she hardly noticed.

            “Your name?”  Moira asked, but it sounded like a command.  The little man was shaken by Moira’s tone and immediately began to spout.

            “Mickey O’Casey O’Riley O’Toole, Seanessy Hennesy Kerry O’—“

            “—O’Fool.”  Moira interrupted.  She figure it out.  “Mickey, this is your father.  Michaela, this is the other half.  Little man, this is your son and he wants to get married, so be nice, and after that you better get in line.”

            “My little Mickey wants to marry?  Where has the time gone?  Sure an’ maybe someday there can be a grand-Mickey?”  The Leprechaun, which he was, found his feet move easily in Mickey and Michaela’s direction, but Moira barely heard or noticed.  She picked up Mother the cat and wandered off into the woods where she could shout.

            “Grandmother!  Grandmother!”  There was no answer.  “I’m not a complete idiot.  I get it!” she twirled around once in case her grandmother decided to come from a different direction.  She let herself float up above the tree tops for a good look around.  “Grandmother!”  That was where Pumpkin found her.

            “Lady.  I don’t think the cat likes to be up so high.”  Mother’s face stuck out of the opening in Moira’s jacket and looked down at the ground as if trying to figure out if she could jump and survive the fall.  Moira brought them quickly back to earth where the cat scrambled free and raced back to the others.  Moira put her hand to her face.

            “What’s wrong?”  Pumpkin fluttered slowly back and forth like a pendulum.  She felt Moira’s upset and was worried.

            “So the evil Brannigan reunited with his evil mother.  Now Mickey senior and Mickey junior get reunited.  Pumpkin, if we find your long, lost mother I am really going to be upset.”

            Pumpkin stopped moving.  She hovered and put her hands to her hips.  “I am sure your grandmother just wants you to know that you are not alone.  She loves her son and she loves you, too.  I can tell.  Fairies are very empathic, you know.”

            Moira’s jaw dropped just a little.

            “Besides.  I don’t think your grandmother is controlling the way things work out.  Everyone has to make their own decisions about that sort of thing, including you.  I think she just wants you to give your father a fair chance.  Maybe it won’t work out, but maybe it will.”  Pumpkin shrugged.

            Moira said nothing for a minute while a sly grin formed on her face.  “Get big,” she said at last.  Pumpkin complied but did not understand.  She was surprise when Moira hugged her.  “I think you are older than you act, sometimes.”

            “I know.”  Pumpkin pulled back and spoke in all seriousness.  “Sometimes I almost act mature.”  She made a face.  “Don’t tell the others.  Ignatius might start calling me human or something.”

            Moira indicate that her lips were closed, Pumpkin got little again and they returned to the others.  They started out right away and shortly came to the inn at Cavan.  Michaela roomed with Ellean and Moira.  They brought in a cot which Moira insisted on taking.  She knew she would not spend much time in the room, and while Michaela was still uncertain about being left in a room alone with an elf and a fairy, they were both very nice.  Besides, Ellean wanted to talk about Macreedy and Mickey who got a room with his father, and Michaela thought she could do that.

###

            Moira was ready when she was called to the cliff top with the crashing waves down below.  Her grandmother had two beach chairs set up with a little table between and an umbrella overhead.  Moira sat and waited, but finally she was the first to speak.

            “No lessons tonight?”

            Danna shook her head, but her mouth spoke differently.  “What would you learn?”

            “I don’t know, but it hardly seems as if I have learned much.  I mean, how much can we cover in two nights?”

            “Your father can teach you many things if you want to learn them,” Danna said.  “You met the Hibernians and see how people, when they hear about you, they may praise or blame you, regardless.  Anyway people, once touched, tend not to forget.  You have learned something about your blood and with Mister Brannigan and Madam Elizabeth you got a good idea of what it might mean to misuse it.  You have also learned what it means to have the Little Ones depend on you.  Like children sometimes, don’t you think?”

            “I’m not the motherly type.”  Moira still felt some anger from the afternoon.

            “Yes, but you gave Pumpkin a hug all on your own, and she almost sounded wise.”

            “I didn’t say I didn’t care about them.”

            “But that is all that matters in any relationship.”  Danna shifted the angle of the umbrella as the moon rose.  “Don’t want you to get moon burn.  You have plenty of freckles.  Just the right amount for your red hair an green eyes I would say.”

            “Grandma!  You’re as loony as your Little Ones.”

            “Sometimes.”

            They sat in the silence of the night and listened to the sea for a long while before Danna broke the silence again.   “You must never be afraid to ask.”

            “Will you tell me about my father?”

            “Not even his name.”  Danna shook her head.  “You must make up your own mind as Pumpkin said.  But I will tell you this.  I will love you, regardless.”

            Moira nodded.  She was glad to hear that.  She was surprised to think how important that was to her.  Danna was family, and Moira had no other family.  Not really.  She had an uncle who was a priest.  She had a crazy aunt in Dublin, and some equally crazy cousins.  She supposed they shunned her for the most part because she was a fatherless child. 

            Moira found herself in bed, one more comfortable than any cot ought to be.  She knew she needed sleep before the morning, but she could not sleep.  Not just yet.

###

            When the morning came, the troop followed elf routes again to Tara and arrived mid-afternoon.  The walk was mostly in silence except for yawns from the ogre and Pumpkin’s commentary that with all the feeding, Prickles would probably hibernate for the next six months or more.

            Moira saw him from a distance.  He just stood there, patiently waiting.  As she drew close, she saw the gray hair and was surprised once again.  She had not imagined a so-called god would have gray hair.  When she was twenty paces away, she stopped.  He made no move.  He might have tried to smile, but Moira thought he looked too nervous.  Still, he waited.  It was entirely up to her what she would do.  She knew what she would do.  She ran to him, threw her arms around him, and cried while he held her, smoothed her hair and said between his own tears, “Hush.  Everything will be alright.”

            Danna gave up the cat form, not that anyone was surprised.  She turned to her little ones.  “Take care of her.  Take care of them both, and guard the way to Tara.  This is the work you must all do.”  Then she vanished and reappeared on the University grounds in America. 

            She did not immediately trade places with Glen because she knew he would forget everything that happened, and for the moment she needed to retain her senses.  After a time with her mind half a world away, she was satisfied that they would work everything out.  “Okay,” she said it out loud before she went away and Glen came back into his own time and place. 

            Glen wondered briefly what he was doing in the woods.  He seemed to recall something about walking with Sandra, but he was not sure.  He was not sure of anything at the moment.  He felt very confused.

            He walked slowly back to his room, a single room with only a communal bathroom to remind him he was living in a dorm.  He thought about the chapters he needed to read, but turned first to that bathroom.  He found Sandra there, fresh from the shower, wrapped in a towel.  He was startled.  Apparently she was visiting some other guy in the dorm.

            “Glen.”  Sandra was equally startled.  Her heart broke to see the look in Glen’s eyes as he slowly turned and walked away.

##########

NOTE: To read this story from the beginning or to read any of the stories of the Traveler please click the tab “Traveler Tales” above.  You can read the stories on the right independently, or just the Vordan story on the left, or the whole work in order as written.  Your choice.  Enjoy. 

–Michael.

            “Weren’t you supposed to stay inside tonight?”  Moira asked, and she frowned, but only to keep from bursting out laughing for love of every one of the knuckleheads.

            Pumpkin quickly hid behind Ellean.  Prickles looked at his feet while Ignatius slapped him on the arm, not to say the ogre felt it.  “Yeah, you big dummy.  And just look at the mess you made.  Broken glass everywhere.”

            “Hey!”  Macreedy stepped up.  “Quit picking on the big guy.  He can’t help it.”

            “Oh, so now you’re the big defender?”

            Ellean pushed between the two.  “Stop it, this isn’t helping.”

            Pumpkin, now exposed, fluttered up to Mickey.  “Hi, my name is Pumpkin.”

            “I’m no defender.”  Macreedy turned red.  “You’re just deflecting your own disobedience on him because he just isn’t the sharpest knife.”

            “He isn’t even the sharpest spoon.”

            “Cut it out…”  Ellean pushed them both to separate them

            “Do you have a name?”

            “er, Mickey.”

            “Well, er, Mickey…”

            “Sorry about the window.”  Prickles finally caught up with the first thing that was said just before Moira shouted.

            “Quiet!”  She turned back to Mister Brannigan who did not believe what he was seeing, and who was apparently seeing more than just the glamour of humanity that surrounded the others.  Moira could not tell exactly what Mickey saw other than the fairy who zipped to Moira’s shoulder as soon as she shouted.  “Now, Mister Brannigan.”  Moira started to speak, but then she was not certain what she wanted to say, exactly.  She felt some pride in all she accomplished.  She used her powers, such as they were, and most were things that her grandmother never taught her, or not exactly.  She decided the only reason she got caught by the man’s first salvo was because it came so unexpectedly.  And the only reason she was afraid of the man was because she had never faced such power before.  And the only reason he surprised her with the cloud and managed to hover above her was because he had practical experience at this sort of confrontation which she did not.  Only now what was she going to do with the man?  Those were the exact words she heard behind her.

            “Now, what are you going to do with him?”

            Danna came up alongside Moira and Michaela ran to Mickey and hugged him like she was afraid she might lose him, or lose herself, and like maybe she would not mind being lost if only they could be lost together.  Moira turned to Danna and asked a simple question.  “Is there something you can do?”  The Little ones, meanwhile, were exceptionally quiet and rather tried to pretend they were not even there, except for Prickles, who would have been impossible to be inconspicuous and who had forgotten that he was out after hours in any case.

            “Do you want me to do something?”  Danna asked while she reached out and hugged her granddaughter.

            Moira responded, more willingly than ever.  “Please,” she said.

            “Alright.”  Danna reached out her hand.  “Let me see Mary.”

            “Mary?  Oh, yes.”  Moira reached into the purse which was still on her shoulder, opposite the fairy.  She pulled out the rock and handed it over, not knowing what to think.  Danna stepped apart from them all and rapped her knuckles on the rock three times.  There was smoke that came from the rock, and it slowly formed into the figure of an older woman, not as old as Madam Elizabeth, but nearly so.  The woman stretched as if confined in a tight space for a very long time, which she was, and then Mister Brannigan said something that should have been no surprise to those around him.

            “Mother?”

            “Brian?”  The Djin obviously knew the man.  “How did I get back in Ireland?”  She turned once in a circle and stopped to face Danna.  “And don’t call me Mary!”

            “Your chosen name.”  Danna smiled and waved her hand.  Moira’s bubble around Mister Brannigan melted and the man turned to the Djin with some pleading in his voice.

            “Mother.”  He repeated himself.  “Get me out of this.”

            The Djin paused and looked at her son.  She shook her head.  “There is no getting out of this.”  She pointed at Danna.  “I have a bad feeling about this, and I don’t mean a good-bad feeling.”

            “Why?”  Mister Brannigan protested.  “Who is this woman?”

            “THE goddess,” the Djin answered.

            “What?”

            “Hush,” Danna said, and the man could no longer speak or move.  There was no magic involved, no bubble, no sign of light, like his pink magic or Moira’s magic like the sun, or even the Djin’s darkness, there was no magic of any discernable kind at all and yet the man could neither move nor talk, though he could still see and hear and understand.  “Now, Mary, you have a choice.”

            The Djin squinted her eyes tight as if she expected Danna’s words to hurt in some way.  “Go ahead.  I figured the rock was only temporary.”

            “Not at all,” Danna said with a smile.  “It can be permanent if you like.  I think you will make a fine door knocker, and a real discouragement to anyone not welcomed in the halls of Tara.”

            “Where’s the choice?”

            “Well.”  Danna paused, dramatically.  “I could let you take your son home, but of course you and he would have to become fully human.  He has certainly tortured his neighbors enough for one lifetime.  Then again, he has amassed a bit of a fortune so you would not suffer any want in the rest of your days, but the choice is yours.”

            “Mother?”

            “Hush.  I’m thinking about it.”

            “Mother!  And what becomes of me if you decide to be a door knocker?”

            Danna said nothing..

            “I suppose we will have to go to church,” the Djinn said.

            “Oh, the way you like to torture people.  You will make a great church lady,” Danna said in a voice that suggested it should be no hardship.

            “And my son will have to get a job?”

            “Certainly he will want to do something, don’t you think?”

            “Something awful that he will hate?”

            “Mother!”  Now Mister Brannigan was really objecting, but Danna merely shrugged.

            “Alright, you convinced me,” the Djin said.  “It isn’t safe for me out here anymore with you hanging around and it beats being in that crampy old rock.”  The woman stretched.  Danna clapped her hands.  Apparently that was all there was to it.

            “Take good care of him, Mary,” Danna said, and she waved in her way and both the former Djin and her formerly half-Djin son vanished.

            “You don’t mess around,” Moira said.  “Did you know that was going to happen in advance?”

            “Not really.”  Danna spoke honestly enough.  “But if you hang around Little ones long enough you will discover that those sort of coincidences seem to come up all the time.”  Danna turned to the Little Ones and they shied away as if not paying attention.  “Go to bed,” she said and waved her hand, and the Little Ones all vanished to appear again in their rooms and in their beds.  Then she turned to Mickey and Michaela who were still holding tight to each other.  “Aren’t they a nice couple?”

            “She kind of towers over him.”  Moira pointed out the obvious.

            “Details.”  Danna dismissed Moira’s thought.  “Well?”

            “Well what?”  Mickey found his voice.

            “Go home and pack.  Both of you.  You and Moira and her friends have a long journey tomorrow.  And bring the money from the poker game.  That should be enough to get you a fine cottage.”

            “But we’re not married.”  Michaela pointed at herself and Mickey but did not let go.

            “Details,” Danna said, and she and Moira vanished from that place to appear on their hill top by the cliffs and the sea.

            Madam Elizabeth came around and began to rise, her eyes fire red with anger; but as she rose, Mother began to grow until she was no longer a house cat and more like a black panther; and one the size of a Siberian tiger.  Madam Elizabeth’s anger flashed toward Michaela for the briefest second before she was distracted by Mother’s nerve shattering roar.  Poor Michaela collapsed in the corner, hand to her mouth, tears of abject fear in her eyes but unable to shut those eyes against what was happening.

            “What are you?”  Madam Elizabeth demanded of the cat

            “A friend come to set you free,” the cat said as she transformed into the Danna, an inhumanly beautiful but nevertheless human looking person.  Nearly all of the lives of the Kairos are ordinary human and mortal.  That gave Danna an advantage of the other ancient gods when it came to appearing mortal; but to be sure, if Michaela had not been in the room, watching, Danna might have been tempted to let out a little of her true nature, and that might have simplified things.

            “Remarkable, as Mister Casey might say.”  Madam Elizabeth was taken aback by the transformation, but not startled.  “Now there is a real talent, and I would have it.”  The Madam began to chant and Michaela reacted.

            “Beware, Lady.” 

            Danna just stood there and waited.  When the chanting was done, thin tendrils of blue light snaked out from the woman and tried to wrap around Danna.  Michaela shrieked again before she saw the tendrils pass through and return to their mistress without touching Danna at all.

            “What is this?”  Madam Elizabeth complained.  “You are not without power.  I saw your transformation.  I should be filled and reveling in your power, but I am not.  Explain.”

            “I have no power,” Danna said calmly as if she was simply speaking over tea.

            “Don’t be absurd.  All power is derived from other sources.  I discovered my power in Egypt, in the ancient texts.  It is the power of Amonette herself, the very serpent of Egypt.  What can you compare to that?”

            “My mother was Egyptian,” Danna said brightly.  She sounded like a schoolgirl.  “My father was Greek and my husband was from the North, from Aesgard.  That was the agreement that gave my children the West.  But my mother was Egyptian.  She was Anu, the twin sister of Anubis, though in Egypt she was called by a different name.”  Madam Elizabeth looked up as if to ask that name.  Danna dropped her voice and stared down the old woman.  “Bast.”  She spoke her mother’s name.

            “A fanciful tale,” Madam Elizabeth said weakly as her eyes turned to the ground.

            “And I also have another name in Egypt.”  Danna took a single, powerful step forward.  “It is Amonette.  I am the serpent of Egypt.”

            Michaela laughed, but it was a soft, hysterical sort of laugh.

            “No.”  Madam Elizabeth spoke the word Moira had spoken, but in this case it was the word of a woman who was suddenly just old and frail and failing.

            “You see?  I have nothing that can be given or taken away.  I have no power.  I am power.  I am the embodiment of the power itself.  I am the one from whom the power is derived.  This is my authority and my responsibility and my burden from birth, and you are my responsibility as well.”  Danna paused to examine the woman inside-out.  “In this place, in the West, in my jurisdiction, I am the Danna, and my children whom I loved, kept their responsibilities well.  Now, alas, it falls to me once again.  Miss Eizabeth, what shall I do with you?”

            Madam Elizabeth collapsed in a chair, tears in her eyes, her head hung, her hands in her lap worried a handkerchief.  “Mercy,” she breathed.

            Danna waved her arm in her way and the demonic presences that swirled around the woman vanished.  They would never return.  Michaela sat up to see what she could, and she saw Madam Elizabeth raise her arms to the table, drop her head into her arms and weep. 

            “Go home, Miss Elizabeth.  Go to confession and make peace.  The day is gone and the time is short.”  Danna spoke softly before she stepped over to Michaela.

            Michaela was surprised that Danna smiled down at her and held out her hand.  Michaela never felt so much awe and fear in her life, but something inside her said that everything would be alright, so she took the hand and let the goddess lift her to her feet.

            “Shall we see how my granddaughter is making out?”  Danna asked with such a casual tone, Michaela was amazed.  The goddess was actually speaking to her!

            “De Danna.”  She breathed.  She remembered Moira using the words.

            “Yes, that one,” Danna said, and she let out the faintest laugh that was so sweet and perfect and lovely, Michaela almost stumbled from the beauty and joy of it.  Fortunately, Danna never let go of her hand.

###

            Moira got outside in time to see Mister Brannigan throw a net of pink force over Mickey so Mickey could not move.  Mister Brannigan spoke.  “I will drain your life from you, all but the last little bit so you can live as an old man and remember how you cheated me.”

            “You will not.”  Moira acted without thinking.  Her hand came up as it had inside and Mister Brannigan was knocked on his rump by a surge of light and fire.  Unlike Madam Elizabeth, however, Moira’s surge appeared to make the man mad.  He got up and let out his own surge of power, and Moira found herself equally deposited on her butt, and she said, “Ouch!”  Even as Pumpkin zoomed up to her.

            “Lady!”  She acknowledged Moira, but only briefly as she turned fairy fast and zoomed up to Mister Brannigan’s face where she shook her finger and spoke sternly.  “You leave my Lady alone you big, smelly breed!  You don’t know what you are doing.  You are going to make my Great Lady very angry!”  Mister Brannigan was fascinated.  He lifted his hand slowly as if testing the air around the hovering fairy and stared with open eyes and open mouth, but said nothing.  “I’ll get my friends and you will be sorry.”  Pumpkin rushed back into the inn so fast she appeared to vanish.  That gave Moira an idea.  She was not very good at it, but she thought she might do it if she concentrated, and sure enough, she vanished from sight.

            Moira moved quickly from where she had been sitting while Mister Brannigan looked around, finally turning in a complete circle.  “Over here.”  Moira’s voice sounded out behind the man and she moved quickly again as the man spun around.

            “Grrr.”  The man growled like a beast and he let the pink of his magic form a cloud which rapidly expanded around him.  “You cannot hide.  You and the little man owe me, and I will have my justice.”

            Moira was caught in the cloud before she could escape.  It stung her eyes and made her cough, and when it began to clear, she saw Mister Brannigan floating about four feet off the ground, hovering over her and grinning, wickedly.  Moira flew up to meet him and the man’s jaw dropped.  “You can’t do that!”  He shouted, before he shared his deeper thoughts.  “I see why you came out rather than Madam Elizabeth.”  Moira merely shrugged and began to circle him, and while she could not come anywhere near fairy speed, she was able to create enough wind to blow off the cloud.  Moira just smiled and waved at the man as she went invisible again. 

            “Not fair!”  The man shouted.  “You cheat at everything.”  Then he appeared to have a second thought and he floated down to where Mickey was still captive in his pink bubble.  “Show yourself or I will hurt him.  I swear it.”

            “You will not hurt him,” Moira said as she became visible a few feet away.  Brannigan quickly tried to place a bubble around Moira, but Moira merely waked through it and it dissipated like the smoke.  Brannigan tried his shot again.  He hoped to knock her down again, but Moira waved her hand and knocked the shot aside like it was barely there.  Then Moira tried something of her own and Brannigan found himself wrapped in a bubble, but one that was shone like sunlight and it was smaller than the one around Mickey as well so Brannigan could hardly move.  Then Moira reached out her finger and touched the pink bubble and it popped like a pin-popped balloon.  Mickey staggered a little, shook his head and yawned to pop his ears, but he looked unhurt.

            It was then that the big front glass window at the inn shattered and garnered all of their attention.  Pumpkin squirted out the inn door followed by Macreedy and Ellean with bows at the ready.  Prickles had chosen to go through the glass, and a reluctant looking hobgoblin followed the ogre, carefully.  “I’m coming!”  Prickles shouted in a kind of roar that made Mickey fall to his knees in prayer and made poor mister Brannigan soil himself.  When the Little ones arrived, though, Moira stood, hands on hips and tapped her foot.  They all stopped short.

###########

NOTE: To read this story from the beginning or to read any of the stories of the Traveler please click the tab “Traveler Tales” above.  You can read the stories on the right independently, or just the Vordan story on the left, or the whole work in order as written.  Your choice.  Enjoy. 

–Michael.

            Moira entered the back room where she saw the table set up with five chairs.  Michaela was in the corner to make sure there was plenty of coffee, hot tea and ice water along with an assortment of sweets.  Moira set Mother down as Michaela looked up and gave a little curtsey.

            “Mam.”

            Moira ignored the girl and thought she had better wait in case there was a different fifth person expected.  Moira knew her grandmother arranged this and so she knew she had one of the chairs, but she was still having trouble coming to grips with just who her grandmother was, exactly.  It was all too surreal for words.  Mother had no problem with the set-up, however.  She jumped straight to the table, laid down between two chairs and began to wash herself.

            Mickey Dolan was the first to enter.  He went straight to Michaela and hugged her with the words, “Wish me luck.”  Then he went for the chair beside Mother where his back was to the door.   “Miss O’Leary.”  He patted the chair beside him, but still Moira hesitated.

            Danny Casey came in next and Mickey made the man sit one over so he would be on Moira’s right hand.  Moira could handle that.  Both Mickey and the luckiest man in Ireland seemed harmless enough while the other two were scary.  Madam Elizabeth and Brian Brannigan sat across from her, the madam a little to her right and Mister Brannigan to her left on the other side of Mickey where he kept his head and eyes lowered and continued to glance nervously now and then toward the door.   Moira took her seat at last and Mickey started the introductions.

            “Mickey Dolan.”  He said and turned his head to wait.  The others followed.

            “Brian Brannigan, Esquire.”

            “Madam Elizabeth of Dublin.”

            “Danny Casey, the luckiest man in Ireland, and I’ll be apologizing in advance for taking all of your money.”

            Moira grinned at the man.  “Moira de Danna O’Leary,” she said, softly.

            “De Danna.”  Madam Elizabeth scrutinized her opponent.  “Cheeky name.”

            “My mother was an O’Leary.”  Moira said nothing about her Father’s family.

            “Deal.”  Mister Brannigan insisted as Michaela brought each contestant an equal number of white, blue and red chips.  Moira knew they represented certain astronomical denominations, but she took comfort thinking of one, five and ten pennies.  She had played that game before.

            The first ten hands sped by without much change among the players.  Moira, like the others, won two, lost two and folded six times.  Mother sat quietly all that time, watching, and only occasionally batted a chip that was thrown or flipped in her direction.  Moira thought about her Little Ones upstairs.  She did not hear any screaming or yelling, so she supposed they were being good, all except Pumpkin who was hiding somewhere up on top of the china cabinet, watching.

            As the cards were dealt, Moira looked again at both Madam Elizabeth and Brian Brannigan.  She decided there was something wrong about both of them, though she could not pinpoint exactly what.  It was similar to what she felt about Mickey, only in Mickey it seemed benign.  In these other two it seemed wicked or twisted in some way.

            As the cards were picked up, Moira thought about how she was now able to look Prickles in the face for what he really was, and without screaming.  She felt proud about that and considered how her eyes were adjusting to going back and forth between seeing the glamour of humanity and the reality of their spiritual selves.  When she picked up her own cards, she looked again across the table and had to stifle her gasp.  She could see the cards the others were holding exactly as if they were pointed at her, but worse, she could see something of the nature of each contestant. 

            Mickey looked smaller, and in a way miserable.  It was something that could not be seen through his outward, perpetual smile.  Danny Casey still looked human, but he had a golden glow about him.  Moira could not discern the source.  The other two, though, were hard to look at. 

            Madam Elizabeth was surrounded by a demonic presence, or maybe presences.  They were limited in what they could do through their vessel, the Madam, but they were horrifying to perceive.  They were not so mundane to form into faces or figures but rather swirled around her like a patch of darkness that no light could penetrate, and given what Moira felt, she was glad she was practiced on stifling her screams. 

            Brian Brannigan was worse, in a way, as the man’s visage constantly changed between skeleton and grinning demonic faces and a ghost-like or smoke-like creature that would not be pinned down.  Every view was terrifying, and Moira was glad when Mickey nudged her.  It was her turn to decide if she was in or out.

            Moira could not avoid looking at the cards that the others held before she looked at her own cards.  She was in and raised the pot, but then she turned her vision back to normal and told herself that seeing their cards was cheating.  To be honest she was terrified by the other things she had seen.

            Ten more hands went by with only a slight difference shown.  Mister Brannigan and Madam Elizabeth were gaining at Moira’s expense.  Mickey and Mister Casey were holding their own, but barely.  After another ten hands, they were all gaining and Moira was losing, and by then it was getting late.  Michaela was in the corner yawning.

            At last, Mickey was to deal and he set the cards down for Moira to cut the deck.  Mother finally moved and placed a paw right on top of the deck.  Moira looked at the cat, and then looked around the table, and said, “I believe that will be fine as it is.”

            “Alright,” Mickey said, and he scooted the deck from beneath the cat’s paw and dealt.  Now, Moira had been taught to wait for all of the cards to be dealt before she picked up her hand, and she maintained that courtesy even if the others did not.  This time, though, when all of the cards were dealt, Mother rolled over in front of Moira and sat right on top of her cards.  What is more, the cat was not going to be moved, and let out a guttural sound and showed her claws to underline that fact.

            The betting went around the table with each person raising the pot, but none too much.  When it came to Moira, she felt she was just going to have to move the cat and look, but she was distracted by a sudden weight on her belt.  When she reached down, she found a leather purse just like the one her grandmother had given to her old boss back in Derry.  She did not have to look inside to know it contained gold coins.  Moira looked at the cat again who nonchalantly cleaned a paw, and she said, “I’m in.”  She pushed all of her chips to the center and then dumped the purse of gold coins on top.  “This should make up for wherever I may be short.

            Everyone else immediately looked at their own cards but one by one they pushed everything they had into the center and made up for wherever they were short with money from their own pockets.  Since no one took any cards, and since Danny Casey was the last, he laid down his cards first.  He had four tens.  Mickey had the Jacks, Madam Elizabeth the Queens, Mister Brannigan the Kings, and when Mother finally moved, it was to no one’s surprise that Moira had four aces under the cat.

            Mister Brannigan jumped up.  “Cheaters!”  He yelled and pointed at Moira and Mickey.  “You two have been working together all night.”

            Michaela shrieked.  It was not because of the game.  Pumpkin leaned over a bit too far to get a good look at what was going on and Michaela saw her, and so she shrieked, but Mickey took that as a warning and he raced from the room, Mister Brannigan hard on his heels.

            Moira stood as Madam Elizabeth stood.  The Madam stared at her as if studying her, or perhaps to hear what the demons had to tell her before she spoke.  Danny Casey spoke into the silence, but it was only one word.

            “Remarkable.”

            “That was quite a trick.”  Madam Elizabeth spoke at last.  “And I did not even see the magic, and that is remarkable Mister Casey.”  Madam Elizabeth grinned a grin that Moira could only call witch-like in the extreme.  “That is a power I shall have, but first I think you need taking down a bit.”  With that, the Madam’s hands flew up and something like electricity shot across the table.  Moira was stunned for a second because it was like a taser or like she put her finger in an electrical socket, but the feeing only lasted a second as something rose up inside of her.

            “No.”  Moira found her own hands fly up as if by their own volition, and a strong light, bright as the sun streamed from her hands and struck the witch square in the chest.  The old woman slammed back against the wall as surely as if flicked by Prickles, and then the old body slumped to the floor, dazed and just barely conscious.  Moira was mortified at what she had done, and looked at her hands as if they were not her own.  She ran from the room and only Mister Casey spoke.

            “Remarkable,” he said.  “Remarkable.”  He repeated himself because Pumpkin fluttered past his face in pursuit of Moira.  Danny Casey got up and followed.  He was not about to miss any of this.  That left only the Madam and Michaela in the room, and Mother the cat who jumped down from the table only to stop in the doorway.

            When they arrived in Nevan, everyone was quiet, and while that worried Moira, she could not help take advantage of that for a little while.  Her grandmother had taught her many things in the night and she needed time to process it all, and some of it she just had to practice.  It was not all easy and natural, like breathing.  When they went into the inn for supper, Moira finally asked the Little ones what was wrong.

            “Nothing wrong, Lady,” Macreedy answered.  “It’s just your grandmother said we had to stay in our rooms tonight.”

            “That’s not so bad for me and Macreedy, and maybe Pumpkin as long as we can find her some cartoons to watch,” Ellean said.  “But it may be hard on Ignatius and Prickles.  Ogres and Hobgoblins rather like the night.”

            “Not as bad as if it was a troll and a true goblin,” Macreedy countered.

            “But Prickles is positively dragging.”  Moira pointed at the ogre who yawned.

            “Ah!”  Ignatius had been listening in.  “That is because ogres have a very slow digestion, and this one has been eating a lot lately.  Ogres don’t always get three square meals.”

            “True,” Prickles confirmed.

            “So they eat a lot when they can, except they kind of fill up after a while and then they hibernate while their system works it all off.”

            “When the ogre is fed you are safe in your bed.”  Pumpkin repeated the old rhyme, and smiled.  Moira thought of something else.

            “Why would grandmother tell you to stay in tonight?”

            Macreedy shrugged.  “She said there was a game you had to play tonight.”

            “And I like games.”  Pumpkin looked ready to pout, now that she was thinking about it.

            “I do too,” Ellean agreed.  “But she said stay in, and so I will.”

            “She did say you need to keep Mary with you,” Macreedy added.

            “Mary?  Oh, yes, the rock.”

            “So, where is our waitress?”  Ignatius was impatient.  Moira looked around in time to see a young man enter and walk right up to a waitress at the work station where they kept all of the silverware and glasses.  He looked like a fine young man, only he was barely five feet high, while the waitress, who looked and pointed at them was at least five-six, a full head taller than the poor fellow.  The waitress whispered in the young man’s ears and he followed her to the table.  He stayed a couple of steps back to watch.

            “Hello.”  The waitress kept her eyes on Moira as if there was some comfort there.  “My name is Michaela, have you decided what you would like this evening?”

            Moira passed the buck, so Ellean ordered, followed by Macreedy.  Michaela wrote it all down and looked at her writing the whole time.  She refused to look up at the couple.  Then it was Prickles’ turn, but he just tried to wake up and tried to figure out what was going on, so at last Michaela had to look up.

            “And for the O, the-o, O,” she stuttered.

            “The big fellow will have the biggest steak you’ve got, and just as rare as you can make it.  Raw if possible.”  Ignatius spoke up.  Maybe Prickles was half asleep, but there was a little drool that dripped from the corner of his mouth all the same.  Michaela gladly turned her head, but then she decided that this person was not any easier to look at.  She returned to her writing.  “Now, I’ll have the filet, but you better make it well done.  Burnt would be fine.”  Ignatius turned to the group.  “Best way to keep the ogre’s fingers off it,” he confided.  “And you better bring a baked potato.  I had chips last night, but I like them American style, with plenty of ketchup, and Prickles kept grabbing them, thinking that the ketchup was blood.”  Michaela shrieked and the young man took a step closer, just in case.

            “That was mean.”  Pumpkin scolded the hobgoblin and turned to the waitress. She ordered a small house salad and a glass of milk.  “Mother might have to help with the milk if I can’t drink it all.”

            “I am sure that would be fine,” Moira said as she petted the cat that was currently in her lap.  She looked up at the waitress then and the waitress looked furtively around the room before she offered a little curtsey. 

            “And for you, Mam?” 

            “But—.“  Moira did not quite know what to say.

            “Yes, m’lady.”

            Moira shook her head.  “You have to call me Moira.”

            The waitress stopped trembling for a second.  “Moira,” she said, and she honestly tried to smile.

            “You have the sight, don’t you?”  Macreedy interrupted.

            “Yes, er, sir.”  Michaela responded with a quick look which just as quickly returned to Moira.  “People say I have my grandmother’s eyes.”

            Moira nodded.  “Then you should know that these are my friends and they won’t hurt you.”

            “Yes, Mam.  If you say they are friends, I believe you.”

            Moira frowned and ordered, but when she was done, Ignatius had to get in one more word.

            “And believe it or not, even I am a nice fellow, most of the time.”

            “Sir.”  Michaela acknowledged that she heard, but after another brief curtsey for Moira, she ran off to the bar, the young man following her.

            “Are we really your friends?”  Pumpkin asked.  There was such hope in her voice, everyone was drawn to look in her direction.  After a second, they all looked at Moira because clearly that was the question in their minds as well.  Moira took the time to look around the table and even looked at the ogre and the hobgoblin for what they really were; something she could not have done just a day ago.

            “Yes,” she said.  “All of you are, and I can’t imagine feeling any other way.”  It was true.  Even after such a short time with these creatures—people, even if they weren’t human people, she honestly and clearly cared deeply about them.  She looked at Pumpkin and wondered if anyone could be anything but friends with a fairy.

            “Gee.”  Prickles spoke up.  “I never had a friend before.”  He turned red and Moira smiled for him.

            “You said Michaela had the sight?”  Moira turned to Macreedy for an explanation.

            “She could see us for what we really are,” Ellean answered.  “Maybe not exactly.”

            “Probably not exactly,” Macreedy interrupted.  “But near enough to know we are not exactly human.”

            “If she is a true seer, she might even catch glimpses of tomorrow,” Ellean concluded.

            “Or the game tonight,” Ignatius added.  The poor Hobgoblin had a small tear in one eye, still thinking about friendship in his own twisted way.

            “Yes.”  Pumpkin found her pout again.  “What kind of game is it, anyway?”

            “Poker,” Moira said.  She figured out that much.

            After supper, Mother stretched and dug a claw straight into Moira’s leg.  “Ouch!  Mother!”  Moira scolded the cat, but as she reached to grab the cat, the cat jumped to the floor and began to move through the tables.  The Little Ones watched, not thinking anything of it, but Moira knew it would not be good to have people complain about cat hair in their food, so she got up to retrieve the beast.  Mother went straight for the bar, leapt up right between Michaela and the young man and startled them.  Michaela was immediately drawn to pet the cat while Mother settled down and began to wash herself.

            “Oh, be careful,” The young man said.  “This beastie is not one for playing around, I think.”

            The bartender picked up a rag to snap at the cat to get her off his bar.  As he snapped the rag disappeared.  He thought he dropped it, but when he did not see it right away, he picked up another.  This one disappeared in his hands, and he saw it.  He was frightened.  He looked at the cat and shouted out his fear.  “Hey!”  But then no other words came out despite all of his efforts so he decided a quick retreat to the back room was in order.

            “My apologies,” Moira said as she came close.

            Michaela looked up.  “Lady.”  She curtsied and went about her duties.

            “Mother.”  Moira reached for the cat, but the young man stopped her with a word.

            “Your familiar?”

            “Eh?”  Moira knew what a familiar was.  “No, just a stray I adopted,” she said.  She reached out but Mother slapped Moira’s hand with her paw and let out a little growl.  Moira raised her brows and looked again at the cat.  “All right, Mother,” she said.  “You adopted me.”  She scooped up the cat and snuggled.

            “Acts like a familiar,” the young man said.  Moira shook her head and prepared to turn and go back to her table, but she stopped when the man spoke again.  “So you’re not here for the game?”

            “Poker?”  Moira asked.

            The man nodded his head and stuck out his hand.  “Mickey Dolan.”

            “Moira O’Leary,” Moira responded.  She shifted Mother enough to give the man’s hand a half shake.

            Mickey raised a brow of his own.  “Moira de Danna O’Leary?  I thought you would be older.”  He said that as if he knew her.  “They say you never lost a tournament.”

            Moira paused and thought back.  She remembered the games she used to play with some of the girls back in her Catholic High School.  It was true that they soon stopped playing with her because she never lost.  But that was the only poker she ever played, and it was strictly penny ante.  “So what makes this game so special?”  Moira decided to cut straight to the point.

            “Ah!”  Mickey sat back, took a sip of his drink and allowed for a long pause.  “It’s a struggle for position, you might say.  First, there is you who never lost, and me, and I’m thinking I may have a few tricks you haven’t seen.  Then there is Danny Casey there.”  He pointed and the man waved in a very friendly manner before he took another long swig of his beer.  “Mister Casey calls himself the luckiest man in Ireland and he figures to put that to the test.  Then there is Madam Elizabeth.”  He pointed in a different direction toward an old lady in a shawl who appeared to be working on a crossword puzzle and ignoring them.  “They say she is a witch and can make the cards do her bidding, if you believe in that sort of thing.  And finally, there is Brian Brannigan.”  Mickey pointed to a man who sat alone with his back to the wall.  He appeared to be looking all around, furtively, as if he expected some enemy to show up at any minute.  “He is a mysterious character from down in County Cork.  They say he is a terror to his neighbors with his mischief, mayhem and magic, if, as I said, you believe in that sort of thing.”

            “And what about you, Mickey Dolan?  What does Michaela say?”

            Mickey paused again before he answered, but this time it was not for dramatic purposes.  Instead, he had something on his mind.  “She says there is no way I can win against you; not if I had all the money in the world and sat at the table forever.  She is usually right about things, you know.”

            “And so does that mean you will be dropping out?”

            Mickey shook his head.  “Not a chance.  That means I am more curious than ever to see how it all turns out, even if it costs me the price of admission.”

            Moira cradled Mother and the cat let out a little meow which prompted Moira to stroke the cat’s luxurious fur.   “You really like Michaela, don’t you?”

            Mickey did not hesitate to nod.  “Since the first time I saw her, but she says I am only half a man and she won’t be satisfied until she meets the other half.”  Mickey looked at his shoes as he confessed himself.  “The trouble is I have never known my father so there isn’t anyone to meet.”

            “It seems to be going around.”  Mickey looked up briefly before he returned to gaze at his shoes.  Moira spoke.  “I’ve never known my father either, but my friends are taking me to him, so don’t give up hope.  Maybe someday some friends will take you to yours as well.”  Mickey shook his poor, sad head, but his eyes never lifted which prompted Moira to ask a question.  “You wouldn’t be a cobbler by chance, would you?”

            Mickey lifted his head and grinned a little at that.  “No.  Why?”

            “Just a thought.”  Moira said as she turned to go back and sit with her new friends for a little while longer.

            They reached the inn in Eniskillen in good time and Moira strictly charged Macreedy and Ignatius to keep everyone back and quiet while she registered.  Mother, the cat followed Moira into the lobby and leapt up on the front desk to watch the proceedings.

            “A cat, I see.”  The man behind the desk was rude about it.  “It will have to sleep out in your van.”  He spoke as he looked up their reservation.  He paused when he read it, and his attitude changed drastically.  “My apologies, your ladyship.  The jeans and with you driving and all.  I should have guessed right away.  Of course you may keep your cat with you.  Whatever you like.  Does he have a name?”  The man’s hand started in the cat’s direction.

            “Mother,” Moira said, content to watch the exchange.  Mother wanted no part of the man and slapped his hand as a warning.  Mother kindly did not extend her claws, but it was a warning well taken.  The man returned to business and turned the register for Moira’s signature.

            Moira wrote “Moira,” and then paused.  She had been raised an O’leary.  That had been her mother’s name, but she thought she ought to defer to her father, only she did not know his name, and for all of her pleading, the Little Ones would not tell her.  They were sworn to secrecy.  Still, she decided that she ought to write something more, so she wrote “Moira de Danna O’Leary,” and left it at that.

            The man looked at the signature before he handed her the keys.  “The reservation card says you live at Tara.  I know the ruins and all, but I was not aware of anyone living there.”  He made light of the situation.

            “Don’t believe everything you read,” Moira said.  “I am between places right now.  Where I will end up is yet to be determined.  Come along, Mother.”  And Mother followed as Moira took her troop up the stairs because she imagined the elevator would not hold the ogre.

            When it came time for supper it was the usual madhouse at the table.  Prickles could not get his steak rare enough.  Ignatius ordered the most expensive thing on the menu, just to be obnoxious.  Pumpkin would not eat, but at least Moira figured out that while she might be in her big size and look like a normal woman, she was really just a little fairy and so probably did not need much.  A glass of milk and a piece of bread or some greens really was sufficient.  “The fairy diet,” Moira called it.  Meanwhile, Ellean cut up Prickle’s food and tried to teach him to use a fork.  You can imagine.  And Macreedy showed discomfort with the whole enterprise, not only because he was stuck in the night with a hobgoblin for his companion, but because the alternative was to be stuck with Ellean, and that idea made him really uncomfortable.  His conversation that night consisted of a few, surly words.

            Moira found her own eyes shift more than once to a table of six very old men.  Two were in wheelchairs, two had walkers nearby and one had a cane.  She doubted that she ever saw a collection of wrinkles to match; but they sounded happy and carefree and clearly they liked each other and enjoyed each other’s company very much.  Moira’s table by contrast gave her a headache.  She cut the supper short, sent everyone to bed and claimed that she was anxious to see how Mother was making out with her bowl of milk.

            “But I’m not sleepy,” Pumpkin protested even as Prickles let out a big yawn.

            “So fly around the room for the night,” Ellean suggested and they smiled, but all Moira could picture was her own inability to sleep while she swatted at the biggest insect in history.

            When the girls got upstairs, Moira excused herself, went straight into the bathroom and ran the water for a bath.  It was not that she especially needed a bath, but she needed the privacy – a little time alone.  After that, she was not sure what happened.  One minute she was testing the water temperature and the next minute she was with her grandmother, downstairs, back in the dining room, facing the table of old men.  There were two chairs pulled up to an open space at the table which Moira did not notice before.  She wondered briefly if she honestly did not notice or if her grandmother made the places and made the men not notice.

            “Gentlemen.”  Danna spoke.  “This is currently my granddaughter, Moira.”  The men all nodded to say hello while Danna sat and pulled Moira into the other chair.  “Moira, this is the Ancient Order of Hibernians.”

            “Hello.”  Moira was polite but her grandmother was not finished.

            “Dana O’Neil was a dentist for years.”  Danna began to introduce them around.  “Michael “Mickey” Donnely was a plumber, John J. Kavanaugh, known as J. J., was a fine businessman., William “big Bill” Smith whom the others call the Englishman, was a traveling salesman, William “little Bill” Flynn worked several trades over the years, and John “Jack” Kennedy, retired from the army nearly forty years ago.”

            “Any relation to the former American President?”  Moira asked to make conversation.  Three of the men said, “Yes,” and “of course” and “absolutely.”

            Jack said, “No,” and shook his head, but he smiled.  “Not really.”

            “These gentlemen are members of the Ancient Order of Hibernians.”  Danna repeated herself.  “They also served together in the same company during the war.” 

            “Oh.”  Moira looked interested.

            “And they gather every February first to feast and celebrate the day of Saint Bridgid.”  Danna stood so Moira stood with her.  All at once, the men looked at them with different eyes as if a veil had been lifted so they could see clearly for the first time.  It was J. J. Kavenaugh who spoke up for them all.

            “Say, who are you, and how is it that you know all about us?”

            “Gentlemen.”  Danna smiled and the men were so taken by her beautiful smile they dared not interrupt.  “I just want to thank you for remembering my granddaughter.  Bridgid was one of the only people who ever lived that I allowed to call me Grandmother.  Now, Moira is another.”  With that, she took Moira’s arm and turned her toward the wall so Moira did not get to see it from the perspective of the men.  She did not see the mist rise up in the room or smell the heady smell of golden apples, or see the vision of the cliffs and the sea, or the fact that she and her grandmother glowed like angels and ever more brightly until the men had to close their eyes and look away before the brightness became like the flash of a camera and vanished so only the wall remained.  From Moira’s perspective, the wall itself appeared to part or perhaps become invisible, and in a step or two, she was standing on a grassy knoll overlooking those very cliffs and listening to the crash of the sea.

            Moira looked up.  The moon was up and the stars were extra bright now that the clouds had cleared off.  She could see well in any case.  She could see in the pitch dark if she wanted to.  It was one of the things that was different about her, and she knew it.  “Grandma.”  She had to talk.  “Who am I?”

            “You are my granddaughter, Moira de Danna O’Leary.  I like that.  And you are a fine young woman, I think.”

            “Grandmother!”  Moira had accepted that much.  “You know what I mean.  Can’t you read my mind?”

            “I prefer not to,” Danna said honestly enough.  “Most did not do that in the past, despite the publicity to the contrary.  Life is much more interesting when you don’t have all the answers up front.”

            Moira said nothing, she simply lifted her arms and began to rise into the air.  She glowed like the moon.  When she was high enough to be over Danna’s head, she spoke again.  “But look at what I can do?  Isn’t it frightening?  And there are other things I can do, too.”

            Far from being frightened, Danna smiled broadly and floated up to hover beside her granddaughter.  “I am proud of you.  It isn’t frightening.  It is wonderful.  Why, I bet there are all sorts of things you can do that you don’t even know.”  She took Moira’s hand so they could fly together, and that night, under the moon, Danna taught her many things.

            Moira’s eyes popped open as the sun rose.  She was in her bed at the inn, lying in fetal position, as clean and warm and comfortable as if she had taken that bath.  Ellean made no sound at all when she slept, but Mrs. Pumpkin, her little self asleep on a pillow, her legs and arms splayed out and moving like she was making angels in the snow was breathing rapidly.  Moira imagined for a fairy that was the slow, deep breaths of sleep. 

            Mother the cat poked her head up from where she rested comfortably against Moira’s leg.  “Go to sleep.”  Moira whispered to the cat, and the cat responded with a soft purr while Moira snuggled down and shut her eyes for a little more sleep.

            That morning, they headed out for Nevan.  Moira had said that all of this was silly since they could have driven all the way from Derry to Tara on the first day; but Grandmother said they had reservations in Nevan, and she asked if Moira played poker.  She did not explain.

            The morning was drizzly, not exactly raining, but it was a cold October.  Moira stood, backpack ready, raincoat over all.  She stomped her feet and thought that running shoes were perhaps not the best choice, when she saw Ellean and her skinny boyfriend, Macreedy come over the little rise.  Moira drew her breath in sharply when she saw them, because what she had seen in a cloudy sort of way at the bar, and later sensed in her insides was now shown to her eyes as plain as day.  Ellean and Macreedy were not human.  Elf was the only word she could imagine that might describe them, and just before they arrived, and just before Moira said something silly about not believing in elves, a marvelous thing happened.  Mrs. Pumpkin came flying over the rise so fast, Moira could hardly keep her eyes on the fairy, and she zoomed right up to Moira, face to face, or rather, Moira’s face to Pumpkin’s whole body; and while Pumpkin still sounded like a grown-up woman, her contagious, child-like enthusiasm and excitement did make her sound a bit like a three year old. 

            “Good morning Moira.  Are you ready to go?  I am so glad you are going with us.  How far is Eniskillen?  You have a backpack.  Can I see what’s inside it?  I could ride in your backpack and watch the rear as long as I don’t have to look at Prickles.  Ignatius is pretty scary looking, too.  My Lady said I could ride on your shoulder, but I had to ask permission first.”

            “Ahem.”  Macreedy coughed and Pumpkin flew to hover beside Moira’s shoulder where she sat and watched and only tugged once on Moira’s long, red hair to get her balance.  Macreedy and Ellean both bowed since they were both in pants, like Moira who was in her jeans..

            “Elves.”  Moira said the word at last.

            “We are elves of the forest of South Park on the long march beyond the Castle of the Free,” Macreedy said, which meant nothing to Moira.  “But the first question must be, can you still see the glamour?”

            Moira almost shook her head because she could see no disguise at all, but at the last second she refrained and thought that it might be like an optical illusion.  She tried to look at the two before her in a different way, and all at once she saw a man, not quite so skinny, and a girl about her own age, or maybe a little younger, still dressed in the same dress she wore at the church.  “Yes, I think so,” she said.

            Macreedy took out a plain tin whistle and tooted a few quick notes.  Prickles and Ignatius came and Moira was glad she was still seeing the glamour.

            “What are they?”  Moira asked.

            “Ignatius is a hobgoblin, and a sorry excuse for his father’s son if you ask me.  Prickles is an ogre.”

            “But not a terrible bad person once you get to know him,” Pumpkin said in Moira’s ear, and that caused Moira’s head to turn and Pumpkin almost lost her seat.  “Sorry.”  Pumpkin was the first to apologize.

            Moira was startled for a second because the fairy looked like a parakeet.  “No, I’m sorry,” she said while they waited for Ignatius and Prickles to catch up.  Then Moira made them wait a bit longer while she looked at both of them without the glamour.  She shivered when she saw what Ignatius really looked like.  She screamed, but only briefly when she saw Prickles, and Prickles lifted his head in pride.

            “I like you,” Prickles assured her.  “Why, I can look at you and not even get hungry.”

            “Very reassuring.”  Ignatius spoke for Moira as Moira pulled herself together and asked a question.

            “So where is my grandmother?”

            “Ah, that is a bit of a story.”  Macreedy spoke right up.  “She says she will see you in the night while we are on this journey.”

            Pumpkin interrupted.  “But during the day, she said you have to be stuck with us.”  Pumpkin sounded pleased with the idea.

            “Stuck is right,” Ignatius mumbled.

            “I don’t know why she used the word stuck.”  Macreedy spoke more thoughtfully.

            “Hush.”  Ellean hushed them both.  “The Great Lady just wants her granddaughter to have a chance to get to know us, that’s all.”

            “Being with the Lady’s granddaughter is next best to being with the lady herself.”  Prickles spoke up.

            “What about the lady’s daughter?”  Pumpkin asked.

            “Hush.”  Ignatius used Ellean’s word.  “You’ll give him a headache.”  And Prickles did look like he was thinking about that one rather hard.

            “I still think it would be better if we went invisible,” Macreedy said, grumpily.

            Ellean took Macreedy’s arm.  “Now, if we went invisible, how could we order lunch?”

            “I would like some lunch,” Prickles said.

            Moira rolled her eyes.  She imagined they would stay there all day talking if she let them.  “Come on.”  She turned and started to walk down the road, heedless of whether they followed or not.  Within the hour, the rain started to come down hard, and that dampened everyone’s spirits until a step van pulled over in front of them and the driver leaned out.

            “Need a ride?”  The driver shouted through the rain.  The whole group ran, and while they had to open the back doors to get Prickles inside, in short order they began to dry and feel much better.  Moira sat in the front with the driver and his cat that seemed content to stay curled up on the floor beneath the driver’s seat and who barely lifted an eyelid when the great crowd invaded the van.  “Mother.”  The driver called the cat, and the cat appeared to respond as if acknowledging her name.  “She goes with the van,” he said.  He pulled over to where a pub was lit up in the dreary day, beside the road.  “This is as far as I go.”

            “Oh.”  Moira was disappointed that it was not any further, but she prepared to get out when the driver stopped her.

            “No.  This is where I get out.  The lady who rented the van said she would see you in Eniskillen, and meanwhile she would not be far away.”  He smiled and slipped on his slicker.  He looked once at the crew in the back.  “I suppose you had better drive,” he said.  “Oh, and I almost forgot.  The Lady said you need to keep her purse.”

            “Eh?”  Moira took the big cloth and fringed bag which looked to her like some hippie bag and certainly not something she would carry.  She looked inside.  “But there’s only a rock in here.”

            “Aye,” the man said.  “The Lady called it Mary and said you should guard it because she was thinking of making it into a door knocker.”  He smiled again and hopped out.  He did not look back before he ducked into the pub.

            “The Lady is very thoughtful,” Ellean said.  The others all agreed.

            “Can I get little again?”  Pumpkin asked as soon as the man was out of sight.

            Moira paused and looked at her with strange thoughts going through her head.  “Why are you asking me?”

            “Because you are the Lady’s granddaughter,” Pumpkin said as if the answer was so obvious.

            “We can’t help it,” Macreedy explained.  “All of her Little Ones will defer to you.  It is sort of like breathing, you know, blood ties and all.  It makes you like a Princess of the realm.”

            “And for the sake of your father,” Ellean added.

            “I don’t know my father,” Moira said as she shifted into the driver’s seat.  The cat immediately jumped up into the passenger seat as if staking the claim before someone else came forward.  “Isn’t that right, Mother.”  Moira spoke to the cat, but the cat just licked her paw and said nothing.  “Alright, Pumpkin.  Just don’t fly around and distract me when I’m trying to drive this thing in the rain,” she said and started out on the road

            Lunch was a thing to behold.  Danna had stocked the van with sandwiches and a side of beef which kept Prickles happy even if he did start nibbling around ten.  Ignatius only wanted a flank steak, raw.

            “But I claim the bones,” Prickles said.  “I get all the bones.”

            “Fine, fine,” Ignatius agreed, but then Prickles would not let him cut his piece for fear that he would cut too much.  Macreedy finally had to draw out his knife and cut it, to which he said the hobgoblin owed him a plethora of divots, and Ellean giggled and Pumpkin asked how much was in a plethora, so Ellean had to explain while Ignatius kept repeating “Sim, Saladin,” and tipping his hat and Prickles was busy examining the beef to be sure no bones got cut, and that would have been fine except he was humming, and I don’t know if you have ever heard an ogre hum, but it isn’t comforting and it isn’t soft, and finally Moira had to yell.

            “Quiet!”  And there was quiet for a whole minute while she stuffed the turkey on whole wheat in her mouth as fast as she could.