“They say.”  They say a lot of things, unless, of course, “they” are a bunch of monkish types who have taken a vow of silence, at which point I don’t know if they’re allowed to text or otherwise make anything quotable.  (If Eco’s The Name of the Rose is at all accurate on the point, they’re allowed to illustrate, but it’s kind of hard to make epigrams from, like, icons.  Although I’m sure the technology will be there someday.  We’ll just walk around with complex emoticons coming out of our foreheads like lasers.  Oh wait, we’ve got those already… they’re called “facial expressions.”  Nevermind.  You know, they say everything old sometimes becomes new again, or at least, becomes the new black.  Which is where we actually begin our story.)

They say that in the beginning there was darkness and then light was brought to it with a word.  Does that mean in the end there will be nothing but light and we will bring ourselves once more to the safety and sinecure of the darkness?  (Darkness is easy.  Light takes energy.  I think this is the basic physics equation that powered too much in the way of ecclesiastical thought.  You’re making it too complicated when you talk about desire, because yes, we as humans crave light.  We push fear into the shadows and should thus find strength in what is revealed.  Except we don’t, which is why so much guilt and pleasure and fear and joy and intellect versus instinct is fused into a confusing knot that we tie around our psyches.  Trust me, while some on the Outside get themselves into bindings, they’re almost nothing on what we do to ourselves and our own.)

While I was laying in the dark, and speaking of confusion of the psyche, I was trying to remember who had shot me.  I had thought it was Ivan, but it was Viktor’s weapon, and it was pretty confused.  It took me a few minutes to realize the point was almost irrelevant because if I was arguing it in my head, I probably wasn’t dead.   Probably, unless I was in a philosophical holding cell in the afterlife. Actually, I wasn’t in any pain at all.  I mean, I still had a bit of a twinge from where the stitch in my side from following Viktor had begun, but nothing like I thought being shot would feel like.

I could have been in shock and total system shutdown, except I was breathing easy.  I must have been feeling good, though, if I wasn’t concerned as to being shot.  The darkness could have been from my keeping my eyes closed.  I had closed them because of all the light.

A lot of mysteries come together and we use the metaphor of pieces fitting into a puzzle.  These were more like drops of rain completing a puddle.  Maybe I had bumped my head as the bolt had pushed me backwards, but no, the being that was Artur had grabbed me, and the spelled hound had rushed forward at my attacker.

Sound came in a shockwave that would have bowled me over if I hadn’t already been lying down.  It was almost like I had suddenly tuned into the world around me, and my supine form had been lazily channel surfing until the connection could be made.  Sound, sight, smell…

“–dead,” Viktor was arguing.

There was a dog panting next to my ear, and I could smell his lovable puppy breath.  (Much better than “New Car” but still not as good as “baking cookies.”)  I was on a cold, hard surface, so I wasn’t home.  Which was good, because I hadn’t invited anyone inside and I didn’t know if I had enough table settings, Hospitality being what it is.

“Nikolai?”  I was rewarded with a slight change in the panting pattern.  Opening my eyes, I saw it was indeed my temporary bodyguard, who was, in fact, guarding me.  I was on the floor of the kitchen at the restaurant, laid out like Ivan, although in much, much better shape.  The huge blackened hole through his chest was evidence bolstering my opinion.  Hey, that was a win, right?

“He may chew me, perhaps, but he will find me a hard morsel to swallow,” argued another Ivan, as he was held partially upside down by Artur’s new form, a large trollish figure with a beak, goat’s feet, and long claws.  This Ivan was in much better condition, even considering the circumstances.

I pulled myself up.  I didn’t find the lingering aroma appetizing, at least.  There was no sign of Viktor’s other dogs, and I could still hear the faint thrumming of the gate linking Ivan to my goal.  So, won some, lost some.  My movement seemed to change the argument some, so I tried to pay attention.

“He apologizes for shooting you,” Viktor said immediately.

“That’s a good start.  So, um, what’s going on?”

Viktor pointed to Artur.  “The Lesiye-born claims a right I challenge.”  I filed the name to look up later.  “Ivan will not give you his Nellya.  You have somehow turned a spell into a real borzoi, after being shot with wizard-kill.”  He shrugged.  “We are going to fight.”  It seemed like a completely reasonable next action to him, but then, he could kick a man hard enough to break ribs, although he wasn’t kicking a man at the time.

“One thing at a time.”  I used my fingers to remember the arguments.  “Artur claims what right?  The right to kick Ivan’s vodka-enhanced rear end?  He can have that right, but no one’s killing anybody.  Ivan will give me Nellie so I can pry my Guide and Guardian out of her temperature-indeterminate draconian fingers.  Part three, I guess that means you have a puppy.  Congratulations.    I’m not a wizard, which is good because someone here has to show some sense.”  I resolved not to shake my finger at the three of them.

“You are not a wizard,” Artur hissed.

“So what?  I don’t have any say?”  I went up to him and poked him in the arm.  He blinked at me with his cold blue eyes.  They matched his skin, a dark azure more like some kind of elemental gemstone than a colour I was used to seeing outside cartoons.  I did not hum the Smurf’s theme, and not just because I was afraid he’d recognize it.  His grasp of Americana was better than the rest of the Red Poets.

“Do not try me, mortal.”

“Didn’t intend to, creature.”  I tried to put the same kind of scorn into it that he had put into “mortal.”  “Look, as far as I’m concerned, you all owe me.  You dragged me into this thing and you took my fairy.  I had another Dragon breathing down my neck in the middle of the night over this, and you know what?”  I took a step back.  “I don’t care.  You took my fairy,” I repeated.  “She liked meerkats and chocolate and wanted to be a real girl.  She’s worth a dozen of you, at least to me, and I am going to get her back.  So take your schoolyard bullying attitudes and get this straight.”

I looked directly into Ivan’s eyes.  “I could cut that gate right this second, and it would kill you.  Yes, even you, master wizard.  You and I alone have that ability.  If you want to get into some kind of sorcerous battle with the big mean nasty monster, and if Viktor wants to get in a couple licks, too, I don’t want to hear it.  Your mistress is unhappy with you.  You could have cleaned up your own house, but no, bring in the Doctor and complain when he wants to give you a bit of his medicine.”  I sighed and moved back to lean against a food-preparation station.  “And you shot me, which didn’t seem to hurt me, but that’s not the point.  The point is, you shot me, so unless you want to become lesiye chow, let’s make a new plan.”  I eyed all of them, including the dog.  “Are you okay with this?  Because I am officially ready to start plan B.”

Or was I on “C” now?  “Get Her” (classic Plan “A”) just hadn’t worked.  Going inside to walk between the worlds had been interrupted.  This, and it was close to my original idea, was probably “C” but I didn’t want to amend my speech given that I had gotten so worked up over it.  I wasn’t even shaking, yet.