“This is ridiculous,” said Claire.  “I don’t even know if I want it back,” she said.  “I can go get some water out of the bathroom sink if I’m thirsty.”  She was muttering at at this point.  “Which I’m not, because if I drink something I’d have to … I’d have to let it back out at some point.”

“But it’s part of the game,” Sadko said, part-concerned and part-cajolingly.  He pushed her gently with his hand towards where team Koschei was gathering.

“It isn’t worth it.  I hate getting up in front of people.”  Perhaps that was the source of her reluctance, and it was not one that Sadko shared, but it was still one he understood.

“I’ll play you a song,” Sadko suggested with sudden generosity.

Claire had never had anyone play a song for her – it is a special magic of its own.  There are different levels of this, from choosing to play on a jukebox at a restaurant or the “the right song” for a mix, to playing requests, and finally to writing something for someone you love.  The spectrum is an exciting one and full of all the things artists bring to those who sponsor them.

“Trust a dwarf to find a drink – it’s rather prejudicial, don’t you think?”  Nora smiled.

“We are not what we are best at, always.”  Roo considered this thought for a while because it wasn’t exactly what she had intended to say, but it was probably true.  She went back to her thoughts.  “I know of a dwarven ballerina.”

“You speak sooth? That would be quite a sight, if not uncouth.”

Roo had to agree it was, indeed, quite a sight, but then, she had seen it on a TV show, which made it even more unusual.

Kievan was annoyed at the dwarf. “Well, it’s my party.  And my wife’s.  I don’t even know who half of you people are.”  Once you get to “you people” you know someone’s capacity for rationality is impaired.  Those words are landmines seeking explosions.  Yes, I can imagine the singles ad.

“Yes, tell me about your lovely wife?” the dwarf asked.

“Well, she’s beautiful, and clever, if a little, I don’t know.”  He gestured in that fashion men have always done in regards to describing ineffable qualities in their partners.

“I am certain she is that thing.  Could you point her out to me?”

“Oh, she’s over there.” 

Vasilisa had just begun to gather the groups together. “Gentlefolk, if you would excuse me, I hear you have found what it is you have lost, but not yet retrieved it.  Claire, please be a dear and let us know what it is that was taken from you.” 

“A drink.  And if anyone spit in it, that’s just gross.”

“Perish the thought,” the dwarf said, relinquishing the drink. 

“And you, dwarf?”

“This is ridiculous.  One should not have stolen from them the name of their host.  Let alone the other coercions upon this gathering.”

“Is this to say you insult my Hospitality?”  Vasilisa asked.  Something great and terrible drew over her features, and even those in the audience who were blind to such things felt the threat.

“No, no, sir,” for that was the impression the dwarf had had of Vasilisa.  Dwarves are sometimes confused as to human gender as it is, and someone with power, well, no matter how that someone dressed, it should be a man, correct?

Yeah, I know.

“No `Sir.’  Vasilisa.”  She gave her name to the dwarf as the game was up.

“Yes, Vasily…sir.”

I snapped out of it.  “All that for a …shaggy dog story?”

He had the grace to look embarrassed.  “It was more all that for time to summon her.”

I looked around expecting a Muppet Movie-like reveal.  I realized I hadn’t said, “Myth,” aloud.

“Yes?”

I turned around quickly.  I didn’t know what I expected.  There were tales of Vasilisa the Beautiful, of course. Her eyes shined like fireflies, and her smile was sunshine.  Her cheeks were red and white, like the blush of an apple, or maybe blood and milk.  She was dressed in professional chic, except for a little doll pinned just below her shoulder.

Nikolai whined.  He did not want to go near her.

“Ah, little spell.  Do not be afraid.”  She turned and looked at me.  “We’ve heard of you, too, Portal Doctor.  That was good work with the Shadow King.”  Her smile brightened the sunshine.  That was the connection.  “Although you still have much work to be done.  Why is it you have summoned me, oh son of  Lev?”

Artur stood up.  “I seek vengeance against the Naul, for the slaughtering of the birds.  She has revealed herself in full, but while we were given transport to this place, we have only found guardians and no direction.”

“Is that what you’re wanting, E?” she looked straight at me.

“Um.  I don’t know anything about any birds, unless you know, you mean dames,” I started, but her brow hinted of crinkling, so I changed my angle.  “Do you know of Realms?  The community type, not the political or mystical, well, still mystical, but…”  Pretty girls are my kryptonite.

“I have no doubt that while the Dragon Naul might swallow Doloise Mallory, it would leave the beast with indigestion, made as she is of Peredur’s Blood.”

“Figuratively or literally?” I found myself asking.  It seemed completely reasonable that she knew of Doloise.  It’s a huge magic to accomplish, and while I hadn’t really known of the Mallory portion, it kind of fit as a name.  Besides, who knew who else was on the short list of dumb mortals who would face the Shadow King?

“Yes.  Although I need to be more specific.  In opposed to the collective, the singular was brought to life with Peredur’s breath.”

“Won’t Peredur get involved?”  Artur asked.

“Um, he did,” I said.  “He kind of sent me to find her.  Which I was going to do anyway,” I grumbled.

“I’ve the older claim,” Artur said, as if it made a difference.

“Let me change the subject, because I think it might have relevance here,” Vasilisa interrupted. “How do Dragons reproduce?”

I was suddenly uncomfortable.  “They’re Dragons.  I presume they eat people… and make baby dragons the squishy way.”  I was aware of the twinkle in her eye.  “Stop laughing at me,” I grinned.

Artur shrugged.  “That was my guess.”

“So you seek to be a Dragonslayer, Arthur, without Excalibur in your hand, and you know not the nature of the beast you are confronting?  Oh, that is not very wise at all.”

“Where is she?” he demanded.

“She’s here.  This is a matter of heart.”

“So the heart of this place?” I said slowly.

“The sorceror opened the portal at the throne of the mountains, and near was Viktor, the ambiance of a water Prince, and his spells collectively.”

“You mean all I had to do was click my heels together?” I grinned again.

“And find self-confidence,” Vasilisa smiled back at me.

“So we go backwards?” I nodded sagely.

“The only way to go forwards sometimes,” she agreed.

“I just want my fairy back,” I laughed.

“Be wary of what you claim, little power.”

Oh.  Yeah.  I said “my fairy.”  “That’s wisdom, alright.”  I agreed. 

“I won’t borrow trouble, but I will still reap some consequences,” she said.

“Best a la mode,” I offered, still enjoying the repartee. “How much do I owe you?”

“After having to hear that story?  I probably owe you a favour,” she winked at Artur.

“Let’s make it a mutual one.”  I decided not to blush because, well, I’m a guy.  “How about ice cream?” I asked.

“When next we meet, yes, I think that will be well.  And now a word alone, son of Lev.”  She spoke a Word I did not hear, and then took her leave the way wizards do, by disappearing.

“So what next?” I asked Artur.

“To the heart of the matter?” he smiled, but something haunted his gaze.