The clock ticked in the silent study. Fall leaves sailed up to tap against the window pane. The black cat, growing tired of Elizabeth's computer pad resting on its head, decided to jump off Madam's lap and amuse itself by stomping over the desk. Without looking up from his studies, Dante pushed the cat back when it padded over his screen. The cat rubbed along his hand with a purr. Elizabeth looked up from her work with a grin.
"I think I've found your birth mother," she enthused. She handed him the computer pad. "See how the DNA probe simulations match?" Dante examined the screen without reaction and handed it back. "Don't you want to know who it is?"
Dante stared down at his work. He touched the screen to move to a higher level of difficulty. Elizabeth pressed the tiny computer back into his hands.
"My birth mother's a plastic bottle sitting on a dusty shelf somewhere," he muttered. "That woman who donated or sold or whatever her eggs has nothing to do with me." Dante noticed Madam's crushed look. He gave a half smile. "You and Nanny are the closest I'll ever get to a real mother. O.K.?" Elizabeth seemed slightly mollified. Dante pretended interest and examined the DNA markers. "What's those fuzzy bits that fade in and out?"
"It's what all magicians have, the alien genes originally introduced to produce special powers. Normally there's not enough to see at this magnification. You have a tremendous amount, way above the usual."
"A freak," whispered Dante. Pain stalked across his face.
"You're not a freak," said Elizabeth, placing a sympathetic hand on his arm. "And your genetic mother wasn't anybody. She was Baba Yaga."
"You're my mother?" Dante looked puzzled.
"No. The real Baba Yaga. One of my heroines. The Witch Yvonne. She refuses to put a power descriptor behind her name. Says it's an affectation. She's very powerful. Before you were born she was major player in the political opposition. She spent ten, fifteen years in the iron dungeons, then exile here. She's a recluse, broken by the horrors they say. Lives in the Northern Weald somewhere. I suppose it's no comfort to you, but she wouldn't have given her eggs willingly to the Mage. Your father is a very wicked wizard." Elizabeth glanced around the room as if the walls had ears. "What were you bred for? If we knew that we'd know why you were kidnapped and what you should do next. Successor to the Mage? I doubt it. He delights in playing your half- brothers by the Queen against one another. Genie avenger doing his will? An experiment he tired of?" Elizabeth paused in her musing. "Oh, I'm sorry."
Dante's sullenness had returned. He ignored her, brushing the purring cat which had conquered the desk and lay draped serene over his computer screen. Elizabeth got up and put an arm around him.
"You have a home and family here for as long as you want," she said. "No one's found you the last few years. We're safe." No sooner had the words left her mouth than a bell rang in the room.
"Madam. Stranger at the gate," boomed the metallic voice of the sentry house.
"What kind of stranger?" she asked, sending Dante a nervous glance.
"Unknown," The machine was silent for a few moments. "I am letting it in."
Elizabeth punched the computer icon that activated the camera at the front entrance. A tall, black cloaked creature glided through the gate. A monk's cowl hid its face.
"A wraith," breathed Elizabeth. She stiffened. "Dante. It's come for you. Run to the cellar in the barn. Hide behind the bags of cement. That should stop it sniffing out your magic. I'll put it off. Go. Now." Dante dashed out of the study.
Elizabeth stood on the porch, arms crossed in front of her, watching the wraith float up the driveway. The creature stopped at the bottom of the stairs.
"Do you always force your way into places?" demanded Elizabeth, sounding braver than she felt.
"A thousand apologies, Madam," replied a spectral voice from deep within the shadows of the cowl. "I come investigating a crime."
"I haven't reported a crime. And I would send for the constable if there was a break in." She added drily, "Are wraiths now used in police work? Which powerful necromancer sends you? I'm registering a complaint against you barging in here."
"A few years ago, a ring of transport trainers were convicted of selling transpos onto the black market," replied the wraith, ignoring her. "Some of the slaves were ordered. I have been engaged by the owners to track down the stolen goods." The spectre paused for a moment as if listening. "You purchased an adolescent male slave from the market in Mary Delight. I wish to examine this slave."
"I can't help you. That slave died in a farm accident this past Yule," said Elizabeth.
"Take me to the grave."
"This way," said Elizabeth. "It may be hard to find. There's no marker. He wasn't a family slave. We put him in the field where we bury the dogs and a prize winning cow or two."
The wrath gave a soft moan. Elizabeth strode off around the house, passing by the barn, down the path to the wood pile and the field beyond; the spectre drifting behind. She hoped the subterfuge would work. William watched them from the barn door. He sent Madam a significant nod. Dante was tucked away.
The wraith paused at the wood pile. It bent down and sniffed, its cowl lengthening into a cloth snout. Elizabeth kept a poker face as she watched. The creature examined the chopping block, then snuffled up the path to the place where the swarm of word wasps had disappeared. It straightened. Elizabeth guided it into the field and showed the recent grave of a well loved stallion.
"This is it, I think," she said.
The wraith sniffed around the weed covered mound. "Exhume him, please," it said. The voice sounded oddly sad. "The owner will wish to have the body."
"I don't think so," snorted Elizabeth. "You want to start digging around my property, you get a constable and a warrant. I bought my slave fair and square. You have a Hell of a nerve turning up years later with some claim."
"As you wish," said the spectre.
It glided back up the path, pausing briefly to sniff again at the wood pile. Martha and Reba stood talking to William. The wraith halted in the middle of the yard. Its cowl snout rotated to the barn door. Everyone froze. It floated over. The spectre sniffed the air. It zoomed in on Martha who backed up against the door post. The snout widened into an empty black hole. The wraith bent and the cowl rippled forward over Martha's pregnant belly.
"No!" screamed Dante from the depths of the barn. "Stay away from her."
Elizabeth groaned as the spectre straightened. It flew into the barn. Dante stood in a golden beam of dust motes. Palms forward, he raised his arms against the spectre floating before him.
"Hated demon of the night. Feel the power of the light," he shouted. The dusty sunlight swirled into whirl wind of shining words.
"Your highness. I rejoice. You live unfettered. I come to take you..."
The bowing wraith's words died with a strangled cry as a funnel of words drove through the opening in its cowl. The black robes thrashed then fell in an empty heap on the barn floor. Dante stared down at the heap for a few moments then swayed, suddenly dizzy with the effort. He sat down with a bump and rested his head on his knees with a tired sigh. William grabbed the pitchfork, poked the shroud onto the handle and lifted the empty robes.
"Gone," he breathed. "Totally destroyed. Good lad."
"No so good," sighed Elizabeth. "He's killed a wraith. None of you have any idea how difficult that is. It takes great magic to call one up, greater magic to destroy it. You don't just chant a few lines. Dante might as well have set up a flashing beacon -- here I am, the greatest power ever seen. Come and get me if you can. Not to mention that the wraiths won't take kindly to the death of one of their own. We're all in very great danger."
Martha skirted her father and knelt beside Dante. She shook his shoulder to no response.
"He's sound asleep," she reported.
"I'm not surprised," replied Elizabeth. "Let's get him to bed. Then William, we're going to have to discuss what to do next."
Dante yawned and stretched. The smell of a delicious supper wafted though the room. He felt starved. And no wonder. He was a hero. He had saved his family from a wraith. Dante bounded out of bed and into the kitchen. Everyone sat eating.
"I'm up," he grinned as he plopped into his chair.
He waited for a bit of admiration. They turned solemn faces to him. Martha looked as if she had been crying.
"Madam's in her study. She wants to see you," said a grim William.
"Oh. Can I eat first?"
Martha took his supper from the fridge, heated it in the microwave and placed it at his spot with a smothered sob. They ate in silence. Dante picked at his dessert. Something had gone wrong again. He headed for the study.
"Come in," said Elizabeth to his knock.
She motioned him to the hard chair in front of her desk. He scrutinized her face but she wore her unreadable look.
"I won't beat around the bush," said Elizabeth. "I know I said we're your family but," She drew a breath. "I must ask you to leave. It's too dangerous for you to stay."
"You said this was my home. I don't know anyone on this planet." Dante's face filled with disbelief. "Are you sending me back to my father? "
"No. I think you should look for your mother," replied Elizabeth. "You're in bad need of an apprenticeship and I believe she can do it. I can't begin to instruct a person with your kind of magic."
"I protected Martha. I killed the wraith," he pointed out.
"You didn't listen to me and it was very important. You know nothing of spirits. It wouldn't have hurt her, the wraith was programmed to find you. It won't be the last. And you have trouble controlling your words. Words that can kill and maim. That's why you don't speak much. Isn't it?"
"Yes." Dante stared down at his hands as they clenched and unclenched in his lap.
"You must leave in the morning. William will get you what you need." Elizabeth put on her firmest voice. He looked up at her.
"I'm not going without Martha," he said. "Take out her slave chip. She's coming with me."
"No," sighed Elizabeth. "You're going to be on the run, through rough bush and you can't use your magic. It'll draw your enemies to you. What will you do when the baby comes? How will you look after a new mother and her child? It'll be hard enough for you to care of yourself. Prince or slave, you've always had someone look after your daily needs." Dante opened his mouth to object, she shushed him with a look. "Yes, even on the transport ship. You were dependent on someone else for everything. I won't mince words. You may not live through this. Do you want Martha and the baby hurt or dead too? I promise. I'll take out her chip. She is my granddaughter, I owe my dead son that, if not you. When you return a full wizard, mature and able to take care of himself, she's yours."
"That could be years," whispered Dante.
"Yes. Great powers confer great sacrifice and obligation."
"But I love Martha."
Elizabeth crossed her arms. "Love means doing what's best, not doing what you want."
A sullen Dante rose and walked to the door. He turned as he opened it.
"Now comes the truth," he said. "You bought me, you owned me. I worked hard for you and I still do. Slave or no, I'm the best deal you ever had. But we're just property to do with what you wish, despite your fine guilt. Your own granddaughter is just property to you. This isn't my home. I have no home. I'll go."
Dante slammed the door behind him.
The first snow fell outside the bedroom window. The lovers clung to each other. Dante put up a brave front, kissing away Martha's tears.
"I'm not going to find this mythical Baba Yaga," he declared. "I'm going to buy a cottage on a piece of good land. Far away from here. Then I'm coming back for you." He got up, went to the dresser, and pulled out a small bag. He banged back down on the bed and opened the pouch. Ordinary shillings poured onto the duvet. His face developed a stubborn cast. "I magicked these and I'll create more if I need them. It's little magic. Nobody'll notice."
"I'll plant roses to grow round the door. And lavender in the garden," said Martha dreamily. "And we'll raise chickens and goats. Have a cow for cheese and milk. There'll be a dog to play with the children."
"I won't use my magic and they'll never find us," said Dante. "Madam says I can't look after you. But I've thought it all out. We'll grow all our own food. And William's taught me how to build furniture and repair the house and barn. I know about animals. I can fix machines for people. I wasn't blind over the years. I noticed on my trips with William that lots of people can't read and write or use computers. I can be a scribe for them. Maybe even work in a temple or as a clerk. After a few years, they'll stop looking for me and I can set up as a village wizard, doing little spells to help people. Nobody needs to know how powerful I am. And you can be a healer with your soup and potions. We'll be O.K. You'll see."
"You freed me," smiled Martha touching her bandaged upper arm. "And now I have my own wonderful life to look forward to. I'm going to miss you so much. I wish you could be here when the baby's born. But Madam's right. Lots can go wrong with the first. She's a good mid-wife. And Dad and Reba'll be here for me."
"I worry about William without me," said Dante. He picked at the coverlet.
"Madam's going to buy the boy her son lent when you were injured. He's an extra and it's better than him being sold away. It's O.K." reassured Martha. "He's not as good as you, but he'll do."
"I thought Madam wasn't going to have any more slaves," grumbled Dante.
"You know Madam. All talk. She means well. She says it's like the child's family, not a slave."
"Probably is," muttered Dante.
"What's that?"
"Nothing."
Elizabeth hadn't told Martha her heritage and Dante didn't see a need to spoil her closeness to William.
Sunrise fired the horizon. The lovers slept like spoons in a drawer. William hammered on the bedroom door. Dante woke and buried his face in the tresses flowing over Martha's naked back, savoring the softness of her hair and skin, the scent of her lavender.
"Come on. The day's wasting," shouted William.
Dante felt Martha's eyes memorizing him as he dressed and tucked the pouch of shillings in his pocket. He left a handful of coins on top of the dresser.
"For the baby's presentation to Gaia," he said.
Dante bit his lip and stared out the window at the cold dawn. Martha swallowed back her tears and rose to fold his few clothes into a back pack. She tucked some chocolate chip cookies into the bottom. More waited in a lunch sack filled with cheese, bread, apples and Special Lemon.
They ate a silent breakfast. Madam appeared as Dante pulled on his winter jacket. She handed him some shillings without a word and he thanked her, his voice cold..
"I wish I'd taught you how to shoot," said William. "But after the barn, well, you know..." He paused, then said in a rush, " Remember what I taught you about snares and here's a knife." He handed Dante a well-loved pocket knife.
"I can't take this," said Dante, trying to hand it back.
"Go on. You've been like a son. It's yours." William's eyes filled and he turned his head away.
"I'm coming back. Don't think I won't," vowed Dante.
Martha tucked in his scarf and they kissed for a long time. Dante hugged William, Madam and even Reba. He touched Martha's stomach.
"See you soon, Magic Mouse," he whispered.
He heaved the back pack over his shoulders and gave Martha a final hug. Dante walked out of the house, across the back porch and down the path between the barn and the clinic. He sent them a final wave then hitched up his pack, turned and strode off over the snow littered fields.