Martha sat in her chair, the tiny baby in her arms, singing the child's hymn, I am Just a Little Soul, her voice bright and clear, and happy, very happy. Blueberry sat at her feet, playing along, its shorter trunks creating a high trumpet sound instead of a human youngster's sweet song. Nearby lay Toby, in Wordless's alcove by the fire, a hita quilt bunched up over his shoulders. Dante breathed in the comforting weedy, mint scent of the coverlet.

Martha raised her face to him and it changed into the compassionate, living features of Gaia.

"What of Seth's darkness that covers the lands?" she asked.

Dante glanced down and saw chains binding him. The correction rod prodded his spine. He fell to his knees, head bowed, seized with terror and horror of what was to come.

"Murder them, murder all of them," whispered Rotten's voice in his ear. "And I'll stop all your pain, give you bliss and all the beer you can drink, and women. Everyone trembling before you. Don't I love you as your Father? Obey me, my special boy."His stinking murmurs breathed hot against Dante's cheek, his foul body pressed against his aching back. "How you love me in your silent fear. What's this trifle to you?"

The innocent murmurs and coughs, the oblivious laughter of the common multitudes floated around Dante. He stared at the stone floor, his mind trapped in a statue's body, unable even to raise his head to warn them. He had to obey. The awful killing words rose in his throat, bile to torment and burn them to ashes. They died because of me. They died because of me. He clenched his jaw and screamed a wordless plea to God.

"Beloved. I hold your heart in my hands," she said. Where the baby had nursed shone the golden heart of Adonis.

"Gaia!" cried out Dante. His body twitched as if jolted and he sat up with a start, wide awake. The planes. They'd found him.

"No planes, only thunder," imaged Friend from somewhere faint but nearby. "Safe. Safe."

Toby and Blueberry, singing together in the middle of the rough stone floor, fell silent. Near him a bundle of covers stirred. A bag eyed Luke flipped back his quilt and ran a hand through his shocked salt and pepper hair. Hita and humans stared up to the roof of the rock overhang where faint, glowing, stained glass letters, large and small, gleamed and tumbled, spelling out Gaia then vanishing. Everyone turned to the corner where Dante huddled shivering in his quilt.

The humans stood as one. Friend and some of the Cave clan appeared at his side, guns drawn. Dante pulled the coverlet closer around his naked body and stumbled to his feet. The room swayed up and down, a life raft of stone. He flung out his stump to steady himself and phantom pain from the nerve endings shot up his arm. His invisible hand had vanished. His magic was gone. Wisps of the nightmare clung like a shroud.

"Holy Bodhisattva," breathed the crowd of emancipated slaves and they knelt before him. Many leaned forward to touch their foreheads to the floor.

"No," said Dante in a pained voice. "No kneeling, no kow tows."

Jerome rose with a smile, the others followed. "It's love and respect, Holiness. Not forced."

He spoke to Dante in echos. The hita images wafted faint and faraway. Dante's nauseous, gnawing stomach seemed stuck to his spine. "I...no." He sat down with a bump, almost passed out.

"Get The Bodshivatta some of that stew the hita were passing around," called out Luke. "Great magic begets great hunger."

One of the men brought two bowls of stew and the hita shuffled aside to let him through. The former slave began to kneel to give Dante his food, saw The Bodshivatta's frown and thought better of it, setting the bowl down and giving an elaborate bow instead. Luke grabbed the other dish and sidled by Friend to plop down beside Dante, who after a silent thanks to Gaia, lifted his own bowl to his lips, steadying it with his arm and stump. He drank and chewed, oblivious to anything else. His magic and invisible hand grew back. He thought thanks to Gaia. A young hita appeared, passing around a platter of fruit and packages of candy.

"So you got your sweets, after all," imaged Dante as Friend took a bar, shouldered its rifle and sat down on the other side of him to peel it.

"Long House Shaman got near their stores and fetched some." Friend imaged a large tin of canned fruit loaf and the hita examining it without any idea of how to remove the lid.

"Opener," murmured Dante and one appeared, floating in the grasp of his invisible hand. He imaged for Blueberry who had drawn near with Toby, to get one of the tins from the pile on the other side of the room. The juvenile wound its way through the crowd, returning with the can of cake. Dante transferred the opener to his right hand, steadied the tin with his invisible one and showed the hita how to open it. He clawed out a large piece of loaf and stuffed it into his mouth. Friend's trunk immediately snuffled into the tin, drawing out pieces of cake to share with Blueberry and the other hita. Blueberry broke its piece in two and with an elegant gesture of its trunk, snorted a damp chunk of loaf into Toby's hand.

"Uh, thanks," grimaced Toby.

Dante glanced up at his words. Luke, Jerome and the humans watched his every move.

"What are you staring at?" asked Dante in a cake muffled voice. He swallowed. "Oh, yeah. Here's the opener. Get some for yourselves."

He tossed it to Jerome, who stood spellbound for a second before examining the utensil in his hand with wonder. "It's an ordinary can opener."

Dante felt slightly puzzled."Yes. The tin opened just fine."

"You have no idea, do you, Your Highness?" said Luke. "Magic's like breathing to you. Bloody incredible."

Dante stared at him. "I'm not a prince or a wizard or a priest, or a bodhisattva either."

"Your magic tells the truth. You're Prince Dante, all right. The rumours are everywhere. That you're the son of The Baba, Gaia Bless her greatness and keep her. She saw you alive. Yevgeny trying to make out that the mad transpo who massacred a family near the village of Endor's been stealing guns and training hita to wreak havoc. No transpo I know can make guns disappear from soldiers' hands." He sighed. "What did Yevgeny do to you before you escaped? When the hita brought you in here, they sat you up, hugging you in their trunks to undress you. Like a scene from the Pieta of Adonis, only them instead of the dead. We've all seen your back. And how'd you lose your hand? What dungeon did the Undermage keep you in that you learned to overcome iron? Abomination. What's been done to you."

"No worse than them," said Dante waving his stump at the men. "Or the transpos. Kidnapping, trumped up charges, mass murder, torture, slavery. Fine society you nobles created."

He turned away, furious at this aristocratic interloper pretending familiarity and sympathy, and hunted for his overall, finding it in a heap along the wall. He pulled it on facing away from his audience, the quilt hiding his back. Dante picked up his bowl, walked over the small pool at the end of the cave and filled it. He gulped down the water then wandered over to the fire where he found some poi that he dumped in his container with some berries. He scooped it up with his fingers, all the while feeling human eyes on him. The crowd parted before him when he headed to the entrance of the overhang. Outside, rain sheeted down on the autumn forest, dirtying the bright colours of the leaves. A cold wet wind puffed droplets around him as he relieved himself over the side.

Dante stood and stared at the downpour, wishing he had never thought of freeing slaves. That Luke, quick to tell the men he was a Prince. So they'd all bow to the noble, no idea about the bastard golem part. And them all friends. Him once again the one set apart; the stranger, the oddity, that everyone stared at. Abomination pretty well summed him up. Why were they still hanging around? Why didn't they leave? Jerome and Luke came up beside him.

"The men are wondering what's next," Jerome paused, "Dan."

Dante suddenly realized that they hadn't received their survival gear. That's why they hung around. He turned to the crowd. "There's warm blankets, clothes, packs, guns, and food for each of you. Once night falls, it should be safe to go where you want. I'll stop the rain and make the sky clear if it's cloudy and you can follow Cerea's Sheath to the south or the Polar Star to the northern wheal. All we ask is that you never hurt a hita and encourage others to leave them alone."

The crowd murmured, then looked to Jerome and Luke.

"I'm a fugitive now," said Luke. "And a traitor. No place for me to go. Said the wrong thing at a party. Convicted of using my healing to cure terrorists."

"Did you?" asked Dante.

"No. I'm weak when it comes to torture." Luke pursed his lips and examined the mist over the forest.

"Not as weak as me," thought Dante.

"He set up the hospital at Star Mines, pretty different from the other noble prisoners. They keep to themselves," said Jerome. "Trying to heal with what we could scrounge. Luke's O.K."

"Mostly setting bones and watching the dying. A suitable punishment for a healer, not to be able to cure," said Luke, his face darkening.

"There's nothing for me on this planet," said Jerome. "I've been here ten long years. Kidnapped from the Old World when I applied to immigrate for a mining job. Not a transpo, regular slave. Thank Gaia for small favours. My mother might still be alive, but that's all. There's nothing back there for me. Could prospect, but they'd find me out as an escaped slave with no file or papers. Can't we join your army? Help you free slaves?"

"I don't have an army. I live with the hita," said Dante. "They wouldn't take kindly to humans knowing where they live. I freed you in payment for a kindness done to me a long time ago." He squinted at Jerome. "You sold from Mary Delight?"

"Yes."

"Remember a mute slave with a big scar over his head?" asked Dante. Jerome shook his head. "The trader was trying to kill me, depriving me of food and water. A black man watched me lick the droplets off the shed wall and gave me a crust of bread and some water." Dante searched Jerome's face. "Was that you?"

"Wait a minute," said Luke. "You can't have been sold as a slave."

Dante turned on him. "Your sainted Baba Yaga tossed me on a transpo ship. Told me herself. And my half-brother Dedalus made sure I couldn't talk, couldn't even gesture. Sold to Hell."

"The Baba wouldn't do that to her own son," whispered Luke.

Dante crossed his arms and pivoted away from them to stare out at the trees, working on controlling the fury that killed with a word. His clenched jaw throbbed. Damn nobles. Damn them all.

He felt a snout touch his shoulder, glanced back and saw Jerome, his hand not Friend's snout creating the touch. Behind him, Luke stood rooted in shock. Dante shrugged Jerome off and returned to examining the trees.

"Sometimes Dr. Luke finds it difficult to understand the way things are," said Jerome. "Nobles like him have to keep their eyes closed to survive. He's only been a prisoner for two years. We talk, I'm teaching him

"When he was young on the Old World, Baba Yaga and her family party won the elections in the Noble House. They promised great reforms. Lord Yaga had the most magic, should have been the Mage. But it was useless magic, communicating with animals but unable to order them to do anything. Worthless against an army and a rival who could control the weather. Mage Laius never let The Baba and her party serve, murdered her brothers, tortured." Jerome paused then kept the next word unspoken. "...and exiled her. Broke Lord Yaga's soul. She's a living martyr to Luke."

"You can say she was raped. I know what I am," said Dante. "The rain's stopping. You should get packed to go. I think you are that slave that gave me food and water you couldn't spare, though you don't remember. Thank you. Not many humans have been kind to me simply out of the goodness of their hearts." He turned and glared at Luke. "No nobles at all."

Black words oozed towards the doctor. Dante pitched forward, caught and dissolved them. Luke shuddered and backed up a step.

"If I've offended, Holiness, forgive me. I didn't mean to. I didn't know." He wavered between a kneel and a bow. "I have patients to see to." Luke disappeared into the crowd.

"He wore himself out, healing all night. We lost five of the sick. It gnaws at him that he couldn't cure all of them," said Jerome. He lowered his voice to an annoyed mutter but Dante still heard. "And this doesn't help. You're not the only one who's been abused and treated like crap. We all wear the medal."

" I can help him," said Dante.

He walked into the crowd which parted around him. Awed fingertips tapped, voices whispered of his holiness, it felt as if he waded through a murmuring, living stream of tiny darting fish. He glanced at the gaunt faces lit with hopeless hope and his guilt at only thinking of himself, grew. He could never satisfy that misplaced faith. Dante reached his bag, slung it over his shoulder and plowed through to Luke. Most of the men dissolved back into their own chat and concerns.

"This'll hurt, I'm sorry. Bite down on this rag," Luke said to a man with shattered fingers. "And I can't guarantee your hand'll work like before. But you're not going to lose it, like we thought only a day ago. The infection's gone. I wish we had some anaesthetic."

"Or a bottle of rum," said the slave, his smile a grimace from the pain.

"Here, chew on this," said Dante, giving the man a piece of root. "Better than a rag."

Luke glanced up, his eyes narrowed and wary. "You a healer, along with everything else?"

"No. Shaman, my teacher, showed me medicines. What works on hita, usually works on humans," He gave a rueful grin. "Or I wouldn't be here."

"Any equivalent to antibiotics? Fever suppressants? That an anaesthetic?" Luke perked up.

"Stops the pain and lowers fever, doesn't knock him out. We brought a lot with us, some of the herbs kill bugs and germs. "

"All these men, the sick and the well, need several days rest from being worked to death. Most of them are malnourished and wormy. Pink eye, walking pneumonia, not to mention a bit of creep."

"I have potions I can brew up for most of that. Creep, the hita get. It's a tiny burrowing insect." Dante shrugged. " I guess you know that. They're bigger in the southern jungle. Hita suck them out of each other's skin and eat them." Luke made a face which Dante echoed. "Yeah, I've never got the hang of it. But there's also a salve they use as camouflage, cure and insect repellant." Dante pulled a clay pot of blue paint from his bag, pulled off the stopper and shoved it in front of the healer's face.

"Yes, good. See to the fevers and infections, I'll do the bones," said Luke in a distracted voice, pushing the jar away to look at his patient. "Has that stuff he gave you worked yet?"

"Just a bit of stiffness, the pain's gone." The man attempted to wiggle his fingers.

"Keep them still," said the doctor. He placed his hands over the broken ones, closed his eyes and began a murmuring hum.

"Feels warm," said the patient.

"That's good," said Luke. It came out as part of the chant.

Dante imaged to the Long House Shaman, asking it to prepare the herbal drinks. He asked Friend if the hita had seen any pursuers. Could this spot remain safe for a few days? As he expected, Friend sent back a negative. No hunters seen, but too near for safety.

"None of you can stay here, it's too close to any searchers," he said to Luke who, deep in a healing trance, ignored him.

Dante looked around for Jerome, saw him and beckoned him over. "The hita say it's too dangerous to stay here. You'll all have to move out tonight. I can give some potions for the sick, to help Luke out. And you have the stretchers."

Before Jerome could reply, Toby appeared, arm entwined with Blueberry's trunk, seemingly oblivious to the problems of adults. He tilted his face way up to meet Dante's eyes.

"I don't want to leave," he said. "I like this hita." Blueberry sent the same sentiment about Toby.

Dante smiled down at him. "I call it Blueberry. Blueberry likes you too."

"How do you talk to them?"

"With my mind. They talk like they're sending a video to each other. They send emotions too. They don't look it but hita are pretty chatty. And they're as curious about you as you are about hita."

"I'd like to see a video sometime," said Toby. "They say that free kids watch them all the time, and play games on the computers. The computers aren't just a lot of numbers and letters like at the mine." He glanced down shyly, with a mischievous grin. "I sneaked into the office once to see."

"You're free now, maybe you'll see Pepito the Duck. I used to like to watch him when I was a boy. I guess the cartoon's still around."

"That's another thing," said Jerome. "What about the 15, 16 boys with us? Where are they going to go?"

"Home?" said Dante, but he knew the truth.

"They're excess slaves or sold by their poor parents. " Jerome gave Dante a measured look. "Unwanted bastards. They can't go home, if they can even remember where it is. They'll be sent into slavery again, and that's the best they can hope for."

"Can't you look after them?" Dante asked.

"You didn't think beyond freeing us, did you?" said Jerome with a half-smile and a shake of his head. Dante couldn't think what to answer.

"We can go and fight with Trevor Xian and the Shining Path!" shouted Toby. "With, with Holy Dan and the hita, all the New World'll be free not just Alabama and the southern territories."

"Holy Dan?" Jerome smirked at Dante. "We'd have to find Trevor Xian first, lad. If Yevgeny can't, I don't think a ragtag bunch like us will."

"Trevor Xian?" asked Dante.

Several other boys had moved up around Toby. They erupted with,

"The greatest freedom fighter in the worlds."

"A transpo that escaped. His army strikes like a coppertail."

"He takes from the rich and gives to the poor. He frees the slaves."

" John Sweet's with him, you know the legendary Hita Hunter. Oh." The boy who said this looked abashed. "Well Father Frances, who can tell where the enemy has been."

An older boy glowed. "The Queen is with him, and Princess Beatrice. They say Beatrice's hair glows like the sunset, that she's the Beloved. When her father beat the slaves, she cried and prayed to Gaia. She more beautiful than a pure white or a flutterby."

"You've never heard of him?" asked Luke.

"Maybe, it's kind of familiar. I don't know much about human affairs. In Free Alabama?" said Dante. "I lived there, once, for a few months. I knew a John Sweet that hunted with his sons and a Father Francis. Gave me my cloak back and blessed me when..." He ran his hand over his face, remembering a kindness from a noble, then straightened. "I'll get The Black to help you. I bet it will be able to guide you to this Trevor Xian. The shine know more than they let on."

"The shine?" asked Luke.

"Fay seraphim, wraiths, they're the same type of being. The hita call them the shine. They call me the Shine Child." He shrugged then called. " Black, I need you."

The cloak inflated from its heap by a wall, rose in the air and undulated over the cowering humans to drift down in front of Dante.

"Your wish is my command," it said with an annoyed sarcasm only noticed by Dante.

"Nothing horrible, I promise," said Dante. "I want you to lead these men to Trevor Xian."

"You travel with them?"

"No. I'm going home."

"I can't go that far from the one I'm bound to."

Dante snorted. "Don't tell me you stay hovering somewhere nearby when the cloak's empty."

"I am not in the material, then."

"What about when Father Francis had you?"

"You had trapped me in the material. I could not move on my own."

"What if someone stole the cloak?"

"It only works for you."

Dante sighed, then imaged to Friend,"You coming?"

He stood seeming to listen to the air as the hita consulted, Blueberry insistent that it must go with its human as Mother travelled with the Shine Child. In the end, half decided to return to hita concerns and a dozen, including Friend and Blueberry, decided to join the human walkabout.

"Fine," said Dante aloud to the wraith. "I'll help these men get to this Trevor Xian. Some of the hita are coming too. We can help them through the jungle." He turned to the crowd. "You must leave tonight, it's not safe here. You're all free to go where you want. If anyone wants to come south to find Trevor Xian and the Shining Path, the Black and the hita and I will lead you there." The crowd let out a cheer and a chorus of "Yes!" Dante sent them a shy bewildered grin then whispered to Jerome. "I wish Luke hadn't said I was a prince. They think I'm their leader, don't they?

"Yes they do, Holy Dan," said Jerome with his half-smile.

" I'm not. Read a book once by this Machiavelli on how to be a prince, but his ideas just seemed to end up with a lot of nobles fighting among themselves over these city states and over power with lots of innocent people dying. Sounded too familiar." Dante drew in his breath. "I mean. What I'm trying to say..." He stopped himself before he confessed again that he was a transpo. Before he made the fear so clear, someone would grasp the implications, the genie your wish is my command, potential of a correction rod. Instead he stared down, past his stump, at Luke curing a broken hand and mumbled, "I have to live alone. Away from humans."

Jerome put a hand on his shoulder. "Transpo or no. We all fear the rod and what it can make us do. It's no sin." Dante lifted his head, ready to blurt out his amazement that the former slave knew, knew what troubled him, but Jerome waded away into mass of the men, shouting, "Come on, you lazy slugs. Get packing. You want to be hanging around when the soldiers come?'