009 - No Help, Some Help

“Yes. Can you tell us your name?” The man sat at the desk, his hands on the keyboard of the computer.

“Caspian.”

“Last name?”

“Not that means anything here.”

“Date of birth?”

“Fourth day of the month of Akil, seventh year of the reign of Sharius of Silvona.”

“In English.”

“That was in English. I am not sure how to reconcile the calendars.”

“Skip it. Citizenship?”

Suddenly Caspian remembered a similar scene being played out more than ten years prior. And how he finally got that person satisfied. “I am native of Silvona, and previously came to this land for study. I learned your language then, but have not had cause to use it since.”

“Great. Another kook.”

“Excuse me?”

“Pal. There are only two kinds of people in this area. Natives and kooks. You don’t talk like a native.”

Caspian took a moment to digest what he had just been told. “I think it might be best if I just sit aside quietly.”

The Ranger punched a few buttons on his keyboard while looking at his larger box. Then moved a smaller device around and pushed some buttons on it. He then turned away from it, toward Caspian’s gear. He looked it over a bit, picked at it a bit, and left it be.

Caspian was glad he did not carry anything particularly nasty. For the rest of the day, he just stayed quiet and out of the way. His stuff was hung in a closet, out of the way, but otherwise left alone. As the afternoon progressed, the rangers came and went in several different vehicles; the dog moved a bit and went in and out at its leisure. They all seemed to regard Caspian as an unwanted guest; too polite to cause trouble, but a nuisance just by his presence.

Dinner happened, and a new ranger showed up from somewhere else in the structure. Probably had been up in the tower, Caspian figured. After dinner, two of the rangers left in the vehicle that had brought Caspian here. They did not return before Alistare Kevan finally showed up in his vehicle.

The time had not been a waste. Caspian had remembered about clocks, and how time was reckoned. He had remembered most of his language training in the local tongue. Cyrril had communicated that he was fine, and had Caspian’s staff nearby.

Judge Alistare Kevan dressed in a three-piece suit and wingtips entered the room from outside in a huff. Built heavy, he stood a head shorter than the average man. Barely contained power accented his every action. He looked a bit more than slightly annoyed, spotting Caspian faster than he did the desk.

“I’m Alistare Kevan, here for him.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Caspian, who had stood up.

The ranger looked up from her book, over her glasses. “Right.” She took her foot off the desk and reached for her keys. “Let me get his stuff.”

She opened the closet, pulled Caspian’s things out, and dropped them on the counter. The other ranger just sat and watched, over his newspaper.

Alistare turned, pinning Caspian to the wall with a glance. He then spoke in Caspian’s native language. “Next time, give me some warning. Fortunately for you, my schedule was easy today.”

He turned back to the ranger, and signed the release, and switched to English. “Thank you. Was he any trouble?”

“’Been quiet since calling you. Have a good drive, and take the second mile easy. The deer are near the road about this time.”

“Rush hour on Saturday night.” Alistare turned and walked back out, leaving Caspian to pick up his stuff and follow.

Outside a large, low slung coach sat with its lights on and motor running. It was longer, and more massive, than some of the vehicles the rangers had parked nearby. Alistare just climbed into the driver’s side, leaving Caspian to figure the door handle. Shortly, Caspian was in the passenger seat, with his stuff piled on his lap.

They rolled out, Alistare expertly guiding the coach back onto the dirt road. Caspian had paid attention to the operation of the vehicle this morning. He noticed that Alistare seemed to drive with a total disregard for the conditions around him.

They drove out of the valley, and stopped. Alistare turned on the internal lights and turned to Caspian  speaking in English, evidently through speaking in their native tongue. “Where’s that dragon of yours?”

Caspian called out to Cyrril’s mind. The little beast was coming, but had been close by the station, and left behind.

“Cyrril is behind us. He should catch up shortly.” Caspian responded in his native language.

Caspian took the moment to put his stuff in the back seat, and to admire the interior of the coach. The leather showed a fair amount of use, and good aging. The wood trim had been well polished, if it was real. The little shield with two sprigs of leaves wreathing either side was a symbol that Caspian vaguely remembered signified a fine quality vehicle.

“Quit using that language. You need to get used to English again.” Alistare unlatched his seatbelt, climbed out, and went around back to lean against the back of the car to wait in the cool mountain air.

Caspian followed, closing the door behind him.

Alistare Kevan had been living on this planet for most of the last thirty years. A child of aristocrats in a city-state, he immigrated after attending school, married a local wife, and left Tywacomb behind. His wife knew all about his history, and had even been to Tywacomb a time or two. Now they sponsored ‘students’, and helped ‘tourists.’ As such, they had very little patience with trouble makers. She was just as impatient with idiocy as her husband. That he was a judge in a busy city was both advantageous, and threatening.

Caspian had worked with them years before, when he had come for a few years of schooling. He had made some definite impressions then that had evidently not worn off.

“What brings you a sixth of the way across the galaxy, Caspian?”

“Elves, worked up about a prophecy.”

“Which one?” Alistare had been a historian’s apprentice growing up. He knew of most of the major happenings for several hundred years back. Obscure prophecies were light reading to him. For elves to get worked up was more of an oddity.

“The signs of the Chaos Bringer.”

Had he been drinking, Alistare would have choked and spit his drink all over. “What!?!”

“The elves of Nidear believe that one of their clan is the line head of the fifth generation half-elves. That she immigrated here over a century ago. Now I need to find the latest in that family. I had a half-day lead on some guys from Krogg, until this morning. Now, I don’t know where they are. It looked like a warrior and a spy would be coming.”

“Great. More strangeness that might have to pass before my court.” Alistare pushed his glasses up and pinched the bridge of his nose briefly. “Everybody is after the same people I presume?”

“Yes.” Caspian wanted to tell more, but felt too tired to deal with how Alistare would react.

For his part, Alistare could tell that Caspian was not yet recovered from his interstellar jaunt, and might not even be awake for most of the trip home. They just sat quietly, watching the stars, or the land. A slight breeze played among the scrub. Shortly Caspian alerted, and stood up. He held his arm up.

“Here.” He spoke in his native language.

In seconds Cyrril came flying up, and slapped the staff into Caspian’s outstretched hand. The little dragon folded its wings and held on as the staff stopped, then crawled down to Caspian’s shoulder as the arm was lowered.

Alistare stood up, and walked back around and got behind the wheel. Caspian carefully put the staff across the rear seat, and got in. Cyrril bounced off the front seat back and into the rear seat as Caspian closed the door, and put his seat belt on. Little more was said as they traveled.

010 - Sunday In Nevada With The Caplan’s

Rox woke up sore. After a long Sunday morning soak in her whirlpool tub, she got out and stood before the full-length mirror examining the damage. Every tournament she came home with a new set of bruises. Roxanne stood tall, thin, and curved only because she worked out, with brown hair that was destined to turn white before she turned forty five. Just like her mother, and grandmother.

Still sore around her ribs, Rox skipped a bra and put on an old tee-shirt, panties and shorts, and a pair of sandals. Steven had cooked breakfast and left it for her, before taking the dogs for their morning run. The kids were up and watching television in the basement. Rox took her breakfast, went down, sat with them, and finished her breakfast as they watched the Mormon Choir broadcast. She then gathered the dishes, and her children, and went back upstairs. The leftovers went in the dog dishes, the breakfast dishes went in the dishwasher, and the kids got dressed. Being twice-a-year Christians, watching the choir and reading from the bible as a family several times a week was all the religion they generally engaged in.

When the children came back, she led them across the backyard to the barn. Rox took them in the side door, and turned on the lights. Other women have a craft room, or sewing room, or some other private place to be alone and be creative. Roxanne had a garage in the barn behind her house. It doubled as a workshop and an auto shop where she kept the car she was currently working on, or getting ready to sell.

Alex and Diana opened the main doors, as Rox put on a jumpsuit and boots. Shortly the kids were also in jumpsuits. With their help she put the Camero onto the hydraulic lift and set about changing the oil and filters.

The feeling about something happening to her children still nagged at the back of Rox’s mind. So she wanted to keep her children close. Having them help her here was one way to do that.

Steven brought the dog’s home and found the garage open, with his car and Rox’s truck both gone. So, he closed the garage and took the dogs around the side of the house, through the gate, and into the backyard. Once off leash both dogs ran across the yard to the back fence, and the gate there. Steven opened it and the dogs chased around to the main doors of the barn.

Both dogs sniffed around, and made a nuisance of themselves in the shop. They had long since been trained to stay out of things that could cause trouble. The Camero was sitting on the gravel driveway, his Bonneville next to it, with the truck on the lift, Rox working underneath it.

Diana and Alex pulled off their jumpsuits and chased the dog’s back out into the backyard as quickly as they could.

“Don’t go out of the yard.” Steven just leaned against a work bench and watched his wife work.

Other mechanics had posters of naked and nearly naked ‘tool-girls’ on the walls of their garages, as well as posters and diagrams of cars. Most of Roxanne’s posters were from her various tournaments, or enlarged pictures of the cars and trucks she had worked on over the years. Except for one poster that always embarrassed Steven, when there was company.

For whatever reason, Roxanne’s grandmother liked butt-naked baby pictures. It was the classic pose, belly down on fur, from a ¾ view. The few times that they had gone to Nebraska to visit, Steven had been embarrassed by the progression of pictures that Grandma had in one hallway of her house. One of the rows was of Roxanne’s mother Margot, a butt-naked picture from each birthday until she had left for college, at 19. Plus a few as an adult, including one of Margot and infant Roxanne, for a total near 30. There was a similar row for Roxanne. Hers counted 19, with one each of her as an adult with each infant, last they had been there. All this was besides the pictures of Grandma, and Grandpa.

Then, over Steven’s objections, there had been three butt-naked pictures each of Diana and Alex. Steven couldn’t say they weren’t tasteful. He just didn’t think they were appropriate. What Steven had not known for some time was that Margot had a more complete collection, which she kept in storage in her own house. It included all of Grandma and Grandpa; everyone of Margot’s from every year of her life, which Grandma was ever trying to get; and the complete set of Roxanne for every year of her life until she got married, that Grandma was also after. At Rox’s request, in deference to Steven, Margot kept this entire collection put away.

When the last one of Alex had been taken, Steven had insisted that he take the picture himself. So they had selected a spot on a beach at Lake Tahoe, which was secluded. Once everything was set up, Rox sprung the trap on him, and proposed a butt-naked family portrait.

Steven had agreed to a single photo. Himself, Roxanne, 5 year old Diana, and 3 year old Alex; all butt-naked on a large fur at Lake Tahoe, the dawn coming over the mountains behind them. Steven had developed the pictures himself, to be sure to control distribution. There was one 4x6 in a photo album. But Rox had got hold of the negative, and sent a portrait size to Grandma and Margot, and had a poster size made, that now hung over the garage doors. She had returned the negative. Steven had then burned it.

The kids did not seem to mind the poster and Rox thought it was a good joke. Steven was glad it was here and not in the house on public display. On the other hand, what he and Rox had done after getting the kids into their bathing suits and sent to play was still a fond memory.

Steven always glanced at the poster then ignored it, and just sat and watched as Rox brought the truck to the ground and finished servicing it. She was still obviously sore, and would be for the next few days. But she had been through this enough times that the aches were not worth noticing. She finished and closed the hood, making sure to put the retaining pins in.

Of all the vehicles that Rox had built over the years, this truck was the only one she had kept for long, after finishing it. It was the one that she had done the most work on. And it reflected her personality the most of any of them.

Rox had always had a truck of some sort. Mainly to use to pull the flatbed trailer that the incomplete vehicles rode on. As time progressed, she noticed that the extended-cab trucks had become more prevalent. But as she looked them over, the existing and new ones did not suit her. Finally she read an article and followed its example. She chose the make and model of truck she wanted. She looked around for the right donor vehicles, and built herself a truck. It started as a 1986 square body 1-ton GM truck. This model did not come as an extended cab. The hardest part of constructing the cab was welding pieces from two separate cabs together, and getting it to fit over the factory gas tanks. Then she had to mount this on a custom frame. The rest was simply getting the pieces to fit.

She had decreed to herself that there would be no chrome on it. It would show itself for what it was, not for its decoration. Rox began to rebuild it from the bare frame, starting with the cab. The additions followed with a custom front bumper with winch, grill guard, push bars and more lights than a stadium. These continued past the over-built step bars, and the custom rear bumper with 8000 lbs hitch, to the heavy duty drive train. A moderately lifted suspension and slightly oversized tires added to the additions. The custom built extended cab on factory long bed wheel positions required a shortened bed with a light bar, with more lights finishing the outside. There were other things done to it, like a third gas tank, but most people never saw these. The thing was simple brute competence, with a gas-guzzling supercharged engine that Rox nicknamed ‘the toilet.’

Roxanne had rebuilt and restored other trucks since building this one, but had not ever considered selling it. She had begun to consider changing it to a modern diesel from the big-block gas engine. Or maybe constructing a four-door short-bed.

“That’s all of them. Fresh oil and filter, with all fluids checked and topped.” Rox removed her dirty gloves after pulling the lift arms out from under the truck.

Steven went around to the driver door and got in to back the truck out, and Rox guided him. He parked and leaned out the window as she walked over.

“Shall we take it for a drive?”

Rox leaned on the door. “Where to? You didn’t fill it up before coming home yesterday.”

“I didn’t clean the guns yet, either. We can start with the gas station. But I was thinking a picnic lunch at the beach, then maybe up to Susanville.” Steven did not have anywhere planned. He just liked to wander and see.

011 - The Board Is Set, The Pieces Start To Move

Lunch was at a beach on the west side of Lake Tahoe. Being still a late Sierra spring, there were no swimsuits in evidence. The water was still about 55 degrees, tolerable if you had to get in it. The kids ran around a bit, as kids do, while the parents got the food set out and afterward put away. Steven then drove them up through Truckee, and further north through the highways of the area, and ultimately a nearly random dirt road that wandered further. By mid afternoon, they drove into to Susanville, and picked up the 395 back down to Reno and further south to home.

In all of this, Diana and Alex bounced around the back seat of the truck, looking at things. Alex was trying out his new binoculars, and squabbling with Diana who wanted to use his, because she had not brought hers.

At one point, they came up to a Subaru wagon that the driver had high centered after driving too carelessly. With a skillful tug with a tow strap the wagon was back on the center of the road, and Rox was now at the wheel of her truck with Steven getting to play passenger. This suited him, as now he got to play with his new binoculars and attached camera.

Rox drove up the rural street they lived on, driving behind one of the other neighbors, the Brocks, with their horse trailer back from some horse event. The Brocks had the second largest yard in the area for their horses. They had moved up from The Valley over the winter. Rox had not yet gotten to know them, beyond that they were about her and Steven’s age, and had two horses that they took out every weekend. They did not appear to have any children that Rox had noticed. Rodeo seemed to be their profession, another neighbor had once commented that it was almost their religion.

The Brocks turned left into their yard and Rox drove further.

Next down from the Brocks on the right side of the road was the Fitches. Tom and Dana Fitch were good people. Tom worked for the County. Dana stayed at home, but seemed to have a cottage industry in hand-made crafts, when she was home. Dana had a welcome reputation in the neighborhood as a one-person service battalion. Josh, 17, Holly, 15, and Ryan, 12, were always wandering about the area, when they weren’t at school, or scout camp, or 4-H or . . .

Next door to the Fitches was the second oldest house in the sparse neighborhood. Doris and Marvin Winchel were retired, and their three children with their families were scattered to the winds. Doris was nice, if a bit overly forward, trying to fill the void left by her moved-away children by adopting the neighborhood. Marvin alternated between being the neighborhood grouch and indispensable help.

Just beyond the Winchels Rox turned right into her own driveway, as Steven pushed the button to open the garage door. Rox and Steven were the second to move into the area, building their own house, as the rest of their neighbors did. They owned two lots, backing each other, with Rox’s garage on the back lot, facing that road.

Further down the road, on the left side was the largest developed yard in the area, and the only log home. There Jake and Mable Peterson had their brood. Jake was a foreman for a Log Home construction company. Mable loved to grow her garden. Every year, she would pass out her corn and other spare vegetables. It was always welcome, and free. They also had some horses. One was a barely civil stallion that they used as a stud service. Jake and the youngest boy, Timothy aged 6, were the only ones who could enter its corral. Sam, 16, and Dean, 14-trying-to-be-30, the oldest two, were in 4-H, and had growing collections of ribbons. Samuel was always teasing Geraldine for shortening her name and flustering the judges. Brittany, 10, and Mitch, 8, were in the same grades as Diana and Alex, and came over to play some. Mable home-schooled all of her kids, so they were not as close friends as some of the kids at school. Sam and Dean were occasionally seen going about with the Fitch kids. Mable had approached Rox about putting Mitch into Rox’s martial arts class once summer started. Tim was wandering over to the Brocks when he could, or more so to their horses.

Beyond the Petersons on the same side of the road was the Cusicks. They were an older couple. Their youngest was attending University of Nevada/Reno Graduate School. The older three were graduated and moved away, though one was in Reno with her family. They were the first house in the area. Rox rarely saw them, as they both worked, and had their own circle of friends. Mable Peterson had reached out to them, and occasionally they came to her block parties. The Winchels got on well with them.

All of the locals figured that someday this might grow into an actual subdivision, but until then the neighborhood was generally quiet, and a good place to raise free-range children.

Rox had put dinner into a crock-pot before leaving, and Steven had the kids set the table. All they had to do was use the restrooms and serve things. Once that was done, and the dishes in to wash, Steven brought the two rifles used the day before upstairs, and began to clean them, while Rox helped the kids with their homework. Once the homework was done, and the rifles put back in the safe in the basement, they all sat around the dining room table. They then read from the Bible as a family, and talked about the passages they read.

Finally Diana and Alex got their things ready for school the next day, and went to bed. With the kids tucked in, Rox and Steven went for a brief walk with the dogs, and then home and to bed.

*          *          *

Two dark figures, one tall and one short, trekked quickly through the night, following the hiking trails south along the mountain ridges and valleys. The smaller one carried a faintly glowing stone that he occasionally checked for his direction.

*          *          *

Caspian awoke from proper rest on a good bed for the first time in a long time. It took him a moment to remember just where he was, as he looked around.

Off-white walls, with some kind of printed pattern surrounded him. Dark brown trim at the floor, mid-way up the wall, and at the ceiling. A cream colored carpet that stretched from one wall to the other. Fine furniture, that did not look hand made. Cyrril wrapped around the base of a lamp, on a nightstand. His clothes draped over a chair, his staff against the wall. Gauzy drapes over a large window, letting lots of morning sunlight in, without allowing anybody to see through in either direction.

Caspian pulled himself out of bed clad in just his breeches. He then checked the doors, as his memory of the night before ended with him sitting in a car watching the road go by. First, he found the linen closet, with several sets of bed sheets. Next was a large clothes closet, from which Caspian pulled a robe. The last door was the hallway. Quickly he found the lavatory, second door on the right.

Alistare had certainly done well for himself. Compared to where he was from, Caspian almost felt he was in royal quarters. And this was just the guest room. So much for economic and technologic differences.

Alistare came to the door as Caspian came out.

“Use whatever towels and soap you want. I have to go to church, but will be back at lunchtime to help you.” Alistare waved at the tub as he spoke.

Caspian looked, and recognized the basic design. Then turned back.

“Thanks. It’s the Sabbath here? Can Cyrril go outside?”

“Yes it is, and only in the backyard. And he is not to go beyond the privet hedges. The neighbors have animals about. Cyrril might disturb them.”

Caspian nodded, and then puzzled the knobs on the tub. Quickly he had the water running to fill the tub. Alistare just watched.

“My wife will be in and out; normally she comes with me, but today she is going to stay and help you; she will get breakfast for you. And Cyrril.” Alistare turned, waving again. “See you at lunch.” He pulled the door behind him as he went.

012 - Caspian Begins To Get The Picture

Caspian returned to his room, pulled the blankets back across the bed, and quickly dumped and sorted his gear onto it. His food and water bags were not here. A vague impression about setting them on a counter flashed by. He got out his shaving razor and clean trunks, and went back to the bathroom. After removing his dirty trunks he sat in the tub to bathe.

Cyrril fluttered in after Caspian finished shaving, and began to splash about in the tub. Finally, the dragon decided he had enough. But the smooth porcelain of the tub provided no purchase for climbing. So he climbed onto Caspian’s knee. From there he carefully moved onto the lip of the tub, and began scratching and nibbling at spots about himself.

Caspian finished his bath, and started to drain the water. Then he pulled the curtain closed and turned on the shower, delighted to be able to rinse off this way, rather than run a fresh tub. Cyrril complained a bit, and then leapt up to the window sill. Caspian told/thought to the beast what Alistare had said about limits in the yard, then opened the vent window enough to let the dragon slip out.

Caspian luxuriated in the shower, then when it turned cold; he shut the water down and got out. He dried off and left the towel hanging on the rack he got it from. Then he put on his clean breeches and the bathrobe, and went back to the bedroom. Here he found Mrs. Kevan stripping the bed, and rolling his clothes in the sheets.

“This all needs washing. Breakfast is warming in the kitchen.” She then took the roll and left, snagging his dirty trunks from his hand as she went.

Caspian being the dutiful guest obeyed instructions, collected his things, followed the smell of food, and found the kitchen where three cats were pestering Cyrril, all four with bloody noses, Cyrril with possession of some raw meat. Caspian scattered the cats by walking through them. He then set up in the kitchen to clean and oil all his gear, as he ate. He set his components bag aside. Then he continued to open and clean everything. That done, he oiled his staff.

He tested the mana of the area as he worked. As was normal for this world, it was barely perceptible. His gear and staff had a higher mana level than anything around. The radiance from his gear was slowly fading, while the staff was just barely more than staying level.

Mrs. Kevan was busy around the house, and soon brought Caspian his clothes, cleaned. Caspian dressed where he was, and folded the rest and packed it in his gear. He then got into his components bag, and pulled the things from it. As he sorted these, Alistare came home, and Mrs. Kevan put lunch on the table, around Caspian’s things.

“The thing I miss most, from my years here, is the hot and cold running water.”

“That’s nice. So, where do you go from here?” Alistare asked this as he came in. He then pecked his wife on her cheek, and sat down at the table. He put down a loaf of bread that smelled fresh. He removed it from its paper sack and commenced to cut it to slices to make a sandwich.

“First, I need to clear this, and get it scanning for the people I need to find.” Caspian held up a round stone, with some gold and silver rings running around its edge. The convex surface of the stone had rainbow swirls chasing around it. Five specific points seemed to bob around the perimeter, four roughly in the same place of the stone. The fifth was on another side.

“I got this from the elves. Problem was on Tywacomb it was useless as it would pickup several hundred elves. Here is easier, with only a limited number of signals.”

Alistare looked at it, over his sandwich. “So, what does it say? What kind of people is it looking for?”

Caspian looked around. “People descended from a certain elf. Is there something crystal around here, which I can set this on?”

Mrs. Kevan hopped up, and retrieved a goblet from her china closet. Caspian took it, turned it upside down, and set it in the middle of the table, and then he put the detector stone on the upturned base.

“I need a compass, and maps, and to do this outside.”

Alistare got up this time and disappeared, taking his sandwich wrapped in a napkin. When he came back, he had a thick pack of folders, a road atlas, two different compasses, and much less sandwich.

They finished lunch then took the goblet, stone, compasses, atlas and folder out into the back porch, brushed a cat off the table, and put everything else on. Caspian put the goblet in the middle of the table. He folded open a lensatic compass, and set it on one side of the goblet, then put a flat plastic boy-scout compass on the other side. He then dug into his component bag, and pulled a matched set of small stones from his bag, and looking at the compasses he placed four at the cardinal directions, and four more at the diagonals. The compasses reacted briefly then stabilized, as the eight stones neutralized local ambient energy fields. Once everything stabilized, Caspian tested the mana, and from there the energy fields of the area. Satisfied that he had a bubble around the detector, he touched and reset it. Cyrril fluttered in and landed on Caspian’s shoulder.

Alistare put the folder aside, and opened the atlas to their current location.

The stone reverted to its native black. Then after a moment a rainbow swirl started at the top center, filled around to the edges, and covered the whole surface. The swirl split into five individual swirls. These wandered around the surface a bit as they moved from the middle. One moved toward the southwest side of the stone, and hovered a bit above halfway down the stone. The other four moved to the east side of the stone. Three stayed close together, a bit north of east, and slightly below halfway, the last one more north of the three and farther down to the side of the stone.

“I need a map, and to go through your list. These are closer than I had hoped.” Caspian pulled Cyrril off his shoulder, and set him on the table.

“Here you go.” Alistare had opened the atlas to northern California, and turned the book to orient with the compass. “We’re here.” He pointed at Sacramento. “What is the scale on this detector?”

“I’m not sure. The Elves did not say,” Caspian grumbled. “But I think it is relative. What families do you have record of that fit this pattern?”

Alistare looked at the map, and the detector. “Who is that way?” He looked at the solo signal from the south west.

He got out his list, and with Mrs. Kevan they went through sorting the names by area. They came up with three people. Next was to check which could be elf descendants, and family.

Alistare looked his file over. “Just one name fits the apparent limits. Margaret Winslow. A lawyer in Santa Cruz, California. She has a mother in Nebraska. That one is the daughter of the elf.” He looked at the atlas, and the stone, and pointed at the second lone swirl.

“Mrs. Winslow has a daughter close by, to the north of east, in the Tahoe, Nevada area. Roxanne Caplan, her husband Steven, and their 10 year old daughter Diana, and 8 year old son Alex.

“That’s quite close.” Caspian was a bit excited by his luck at having landed so close.

“Douglas County, Nevada. That’s just over the hill.” Alistare set the folder down, and got out a pad of paper and started to copy information from the folder to the pad.

“Where?” Caspian had no idea where anything on this world was.

Mrs. Kevan pointed at the atlas, tracing lines on it. “About 3 hours that way, give or take. Take a car up any of these roads. Turn on one of these. Then follow your tracker. How much time have you got?”

“Don’t know. The caravan from Krogg looked about a half day behind. But I have no way of knowing how they could get around here.” Caspian started to put his things away, making sure to turn them off as he did. Cyrril had again wandered off.

“Once you make contact with the family, what do you do?” Alistare closed the folder, and was putting it back in the pack.

Mrs. Kevan took her goblet back inside.

“I don’t directly. The elves want me to let the kids be kidnapped, and then to bring the parents to them.” Caspian sat down as he said this.

013 - Opening Moves

 “Run that by me again.” Alistare looked over his glasses at Caspian, and put the pack down.

“The elf clan from whom these half-elves are descended, want me to allow the bad guys to kidnap the kids. The bad guys will take the kids back to their kingdom, on Tywacomb. I’m then to take the parents back to the elves on Tywacomb, who will then proceed to do something about the kids.” Caspian looked disgruntled at this, slumping in the chair.

“That’s awfully cold of the elves.” Mrs. Kevan returned to hear this last bit.

“Tell me about it. As a result, I’ve got to do the hard part in finding and marking them all. Then step aside.” Caspian rested his head on his hand, and his elbow on the table.

“This is going to cause a lot of trouble for the family on this world,” Alistare said gravely. Mrs. Kevan nodded in ascent.

Caspian sighed. “That is part of why I’m taking the parents with me. To have them get the kids back. Better to be doing something, than just to be sitting and waiting.”

“It’s also going to be hard on the family, adjusting to Tywacomb. The culture shock could kill them.” Alistare stood and left, taking his things with him.

“I’m going to leave Cyrril and my stuff here.”

Cyrril squawked from on the roof, at that. Mrs. Kevan just nodded again.

Caspian glanced at the dragon. “You are just too much out of place here. Unless you would rather transform into a cat.”

The little dragon turned up its nose at that suggested affront to its dignity.

Mrs. Kevan spoke up. “What if the bad guys brought more than two, or kill the parents?”

Caspian shook his head. “The prophecy about the kids and the leaders of The Kingdom that sent for them explicitly says that the parents are alive to pursue the kids. As for more than two, I am instructed to stay out of the way; I don’t have the power on this world to fight as I am want to anyway.”

“And how are they going to find the family? Or fit in?” Mrs. Kevan remembered the problems she had when she visited, years before.

“That is their problem. I just hope they do not do too much damage, or hurt anybody seriously.” Caspian had resented this assignment from the start. He wasn’t concerned about any problems the family would have once he was through with them. But he was a bit concerned at what the bad guys would do while here.

Alistare spoke then, coming back with a bottle of juice and some glasses. “Then I guess the next thing to do is get you properly blended in, Caspian. For that, we need to go shopping, much as I don’t like doing that on the Sabbath.”

Alistare and Caspian loaded up and drove to the shops Alistare frequented for himself. They first got Caspian a new suit and shirt, and a pair of shoes and some socks. As Alistare bought the suit, he taught Caspian how to use a credit card. They also got Caspian an overcoat with lots of pockets. Then a few sundries from a thrift store. Last, Alistare loaned Caspian a spare cell-phone. Being Sunday, with the government offices and banks closed, they could not get the paperwork for a legal temporary I.D.

They spent that evening and part of the next day at the local high school having Caspian re-learn how to drive, and how to blend in.

After breakfast, Alistare pulled a string and got Caspian a temporary I.D. With his new I.D. Caspian went to a currency exchange, and traded in some raw gold for sufficient funds to repay the Kevin’s, and for the rest of his trip. For an hour after lunch, Caspian meditated to refresh his memories of the years he spent here, and the skills he learned then. Also to remind himself of how to move about in its society without attracting undo attention. Finally with all things ready on Tuesday morning, Caspian feeling comfortable, left Cyrril and his things at the Kevan house, and took the rental car onto the highway east over the Sierra Nevada Mountains, from Sacramento to the area south of Reno, to find a highly improbable family.

Fortunately as he drove, he was not stopped by the police. He got to Reno and turned south to Douglas County, then backtracked to Carson, to get a motel room. He checked in with Alistare, and got some food. That evening he got a street map of the area, and then went out cruising to find the house of Roxanne Caplan, and her family.

*          *          *

Two dark figures crossed the local highway. They marveled at how easily large scale paving was handled, and then moved on. They were getting close to the first and most likely gathering of targets. All their Royal Liege wanted was the kids, the parents not to even be encountered if possible. To that end, provision had been made to do this as quickly as they could.

Now they continued following the hiking trail south, and scouted for game. They carried enough food for a few more days, but hard tack was bitter compared to fresh roasted meat. They skirted the settlements, not wanting to attract local attention. Fresh food might be found there, but the chance of attracting attention was too undesirable.

Their one other concern was the wizard that had used the circle before them. So long as they moved quickly, they might be able to keep clear of any encounters.

*          *          *

Steven met Rox at the gym during lunch three times a week. Once school got out for the summer, they would start bringing the kids again. They all swam two times a week, in the evenings, and Diana was on a swim team at school.

This Monday Rox was still a bit sore from the tournament the previous Saturday evening. Their main subject of conversation was Steven’s business trip, planned for the last half of the week. Steven had finalized his flight plans this morning, and his motel reservations for Salt Lake, Denver, and Boise. As they talked, Rox was still preoccupied with a vague feeling. Steven noticed this as he spotted for her on the dumbbells.

That evening when he got home, Steven found Rox at the computer, browsing on-line. Her clipboard was next to her, already half covered with notes.

“What’cha doin’?” He put his hands on the back of the chair. She smelled faintly of her shampoo.

“Looking for parts to build another two trucks.”

“Any particular reason?”

“I want to try some things. A few ideas have been percolating for a while. And Josh Fitch has asked for my help with his senior Auto-Shop project for next year. He wants to build up a ’72 Chevy 4-by.” She changed page on the computer, and found some more information, which she scratched on her paper.

Steven read it over her shoulder. “3 chassis. 2 smashed bodies. Motor components. Axles. What kind of axles?”

“I was hoping to find a Dana-60 set up as a front axle. I was thinking of trying 4-wheel steering. But finding one that I like, that was convenient, has been a challenge.” She browsed another page.

It looked to Steven like a military surplus page. Here she found 3 complete Dana-60’s, 4 Dana-44’s, a Dana-70 and a GM 14-Bolt.

“There we go.” She started to scratched on her pad, then went over to the ‘Reserve’ portion of the page, and selected three of the axles: two of the Dana-60’s, one of which was a front axle, and the 14-Bolt.

“That’s going to cost a little.”

“The Camero will easily cover this entire truck. Josh is paying for his. He just gave me a shopping list of stuff to find.”

“Well. I guess I know what you will be doing while I’m on my trip.”

*          *          *

Caspian cruised quietly through the back streets of the towns of the county, the talking navigation box on the console being both a help and nuisance. The main highway bisected the valley that made up the bulk of the villages in the area, as Caspian thought of them. The basic area was not much different than the village he lived in, though his valley was considerably larger. The signals came from the west side of the highway, about halfway between it and the steep mountains that lined the west of the valley. He circled the area on the outer roads, before turning into the roads that crossed through it, the navigation box calling out each road name as he approached it. By the middle of the night, he had localized to the street and house. But he had overstayed his welcome and noticed that the local constables patrol vehicles were in greater evidence as he drove out of the area.

Driving as sedately as he could, Caspian drove back to the motel he had checked into earlier that day, went in and went to bed. Evidently the constables were content not to follow.