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Young Becky shouted to Dan, Dory’s coming back! She sent an email saying she arrives in Malaga tomorrow night!

In actuality, Becky had already known that Dory would be coming back soon. Despite being only a child, she was what would later be known as a Shiftikid, and her telepathic prowess was already well-developed. Well, in point of fact, all children had been born with telepathic skills, all throughout the ages, but the customs of the times had eradicated these gifts usually before the children reached puberty.

The young Becky had been in communication with ‘the dead guys’ as they were currently affectionately known, since before her birth. Thanks to all the links on Dory’s computer, Becky had quickly assessed that she herself was Sumari belonging, and Ilda aligned; of an intermediate orientation, and a political focus. She recalled from before her actual physical birth that she had chosen ‘Exploring Connections’ as her intent for this physical focus.

Becky had purposefully chosen Dory as a step-mother, as her intention had been to grow up in an environment conducive to her explorations. Dory was also Ilda aligned, and her passion for anthropology, archeology and other cultures and times was naturally a great help to Becky and her favourite game of ‘Focus Hunting’.

Becky started to make long lists of all the other focus connections she found, although she had a habit of forgetting where she had started a list, and often started a new list somewhere else. (Dan sometimes commented jokingly that it was almost as if Becky had inherited the ‘forgetful gene’ from her step-mother Dory…..Dan, like most people in those days, believed that genetic characteristics were ‘handed down’ from physical parents).

Becky spent many happy hours playing the focus hunting game, and at times had some difficulty in separating the various other focuses from the current focus she was interacting with. This wasn’t a problem with Dory, or with some of her contemporaries, but often caused some misunderstanding with people who were unaware of their other focuses.

Becky was delighted that Dory was coming home soon. She was looking forward to hearing about all of Dory’s adventures, and she wanted to share her own funny stories about the current ‘Perception Wave’ they were all experiencing.

Sam kissed Tina… a French kiss as usual. She had always love his way of kissing and as with the shift this kind mark of affection wasn’t much considered as belonging to bonded couples, Sam who loved kissing was really having a lot of fun.

He didn’t do that with everybody though, it had to come harmoniously, and with Tina it was always sparklingly funnily attractive.

She told him she loved the little pooh on his neck, and as he was explaining her it was a just burnt phoenix, the bird just rebirthed himself again in an atomic blow… the effects on Sam’s skin was a bit weird, flowing shadows and shades of greys and greens making him appear like a for a few seconds.

Sean arrived in a bang at that moment, and Sam kissed him on the forehead… no mischievous kiss with him, his energy was directed subtly to another member of the T’mmm.

Adding his own playful energy to this Fairy Nuffy event, he went to talk with Tina and Al about Tina’s new nails cut.

hmmmm, said Arona, this is rather a predicament.

I am going to have to face this head on, she said to the others in her usual practical manner. Okay I can’t look after this baby in the cave, I had better pop out for a bit and see if I can bump into a spare nanny somewhere. Then the nanny can look after the baby while I continue my explorations

Arona looked down at the wee baby face though, and it was so very endearingly ugly, that she wondered if she would be able to leave little Yikesy with a nanny. She hugged Yikesy to her lovingly.

I will just have to play it by ear, she thought, although she knew the answer already.

Nora Long was dying. She knew she didn’t have long left, and she had some affairs still to attend to before she was no longer able. Nora was a childless spinster, a frugal recluse with an uncanny knack for winning premium bond and lottery prizes; nothing big enough to attract much attention, but more than enough for her needs. Consequently, she had quietly amassed a fortune over the years ~ and she wasn’t about to let the state have it all.

Nora had spent most of her 88 years dreaming, and talking to ghosts and spirits. She wrote all of it down in notebooks, hundreds and hundreds of them, until the advent of the computer in more recent years. She had splashed out and bought one, and gamely taught herself how to use it, keeping her journals online from then on.

Nora discovered how to google one day. Wondering what in the world she might want to search for, a name popped into her head: Yurara Fameliki.

Nora had learned to trust her impulses, and she searched for the unusual name, double checking first with the voice in her head as to the correct spelling.

Nora began to read the story on the websites first page. Three days later, she was still reading it, as it grew day by day. Nora was almost sorry she had already chosen to die. At last she had found some people she could relate to!

But Nora was too weary to change her mind. She did have a plan though, a plan that cheered her greatly. On the websites pages she had noticed a little sign saying ‘Buy a Drink’.

Tina had a wonderful night of dreams. In fact it was the first time in ages that her dreams had been happy. Usually in her dreams she did not feel any emotion much.

The phone rang. It was Becky, although for a moment she thought it was her friend Docky, their voices sounded so similar.

I am fine she told Becky, I am so sorry to hear Sam is sick, give him my love when you see him

Tina chuckled to herself, remembering how last time she was sick Becky had bought over this big pot of nettle soup for her…

Really though, she was so grateful for her friends. Al seemed a bit worried about her at the moment, but then he was such a worry wort, she thought fondly.

The Assassin was already in the room when Baul came in… Baul wasn’t sure if he would have prefered him not to be here so he could himself gather his mind. But he was well used to camouflage his feelings and inner struggle and his face was quite smiling, as usual.

Looking at the Assassin’s face, Baul was feeling very uncomfortable, he almost winced… the bluish glow of the dagger tatoo on the forehead of the man was quite disgusting. Baul kept smiling though, he wouldn’t dare show his own weakness to anyone, especially an Assassin. His eyes were piercing his soul, if Baul had believed in such thing he would have run away, but he didn’t believe in anything except himself and the power of money.

As the Assassin was never talking first, Baul presented his offer putting the object he had brought on the table.

— Open the chest. You’ll find your paiement inside.

Ar’Am Khra was waiting, still gazing sharply at Baul, making him feel even more uncomfortable.
The Assassin was quite impressed with how the man Baul could master his own reactions, and though he was quite intrigued by what his client had brought, he wanted to play for a few moments. With a very slight movement of his eyebrows, so slight one wouldn’t have notice, he managed to add an irritation in his look. He saw the movement of fear in his client’s face, but still it was so subtle he could have imagined it.

Baul pushed the chest toward the Assassin, a bit nervous, but he could …. a sudden thought came to his mind, wandering like a Strokgnutch in a henhouse. He swallowed imperceptibly… Had someone already put a contract on his head? He managed a smile as he was opening the chest for the Assassin.

This Baul was quite impressive. Ar’Am Khra had known what he was thinking as though he could read his mind.

He lowered his eyes to look at what was in the chest. He really desired being surprised by his clients, and this one had never failed to surprise him…

Once again…

Baul was surprised as the Assassin wasn’t showing any hint of the slightest emotion at all… Would he show anything else than disdain even once!?

— A glubolín

Sam was quite pleased actually to be so unwell, it was giving him an excuse not to go out in the newly flooded city… it was quite unusual and sudden, and he was also quite pleased that the flood was just stopping at the first floor

Well he had news from Becky who wanted to come here and bring him some flowers and sweets. And he realized that he himself hadn’t their phone numbers… he’ll have to ask his friends.

The bell!!!

Becky was already here!? He was still in pajamas, Foo’kin gondolas, so much faster than the cabs…

As Sean pushed open the door of the Dunloughpadraisobahairiedunkennyloughaire Arms, the swirling dampness of the Dublin street was transformed into a scene of noisy smoky conviviality. He pushed his way slowly through the crowd towards the bar, glancing up at Oscar the pub parrot, who was singing the refrain from The Irish Rover.

The usual, Padraig, Sean said to the barman, and a packet of cheese and onion crisps.

He found a stool to sit on next to a sticky ringed round table surrounded by plump gossiping matrons and wiry cloth capped men with bulbous red veined noses. Sean exchanged a few pleasantries with them about the weather, mainly about how unpleasant the weather always was, and then lapsed into reverie.

The Big Apple…..that’s what they used to call the famous city, before they renamed it New Venice. Sean was curious to see the changes, not least the bright yellow gondolas that had replaced the taxi-cabs in the watery streets.

On impulse, Sean fished his mobile telephone out of his pocket and dialed Tina’s number, but the line was engaged. He finished his pint of Guinness and called to Padraig to pull him another one. He tried Tina’s number again; this time a recorded message informed him that Tina had switched her telephone off.

An hour and a half and seven pints later, Sean gave up trying to phone Tina and lurched home to bed.

The rain was pouring cabbages for several days now, almost the whole week… Baul was fed up with that filthy weather of Cromash Tur. The capital of this 4th kingdom was quite nice and pleasurable, but it lacked sun and warmth… Baul had come to Nâabooli, the capital of Cromash, in order to settle an arrangement. Something quite particular that he couldn’t find in his own land of Erpet Mesh. He’d been travelling for weeks with his guards and servants when he arrived in the city and all that for some foo’kin rain! But something more important than brooding and pouting was on his mind.

Tonight he was alone, no servant, no guard… he was wearing a black coat made of goat skin on his usual blue and yellow silk robe, he couldn’t wear anything else, his skin was too smooth and delicate. He was spending great amount of money to take care of his body, it was his own pride, and he considered himself as a very handsome and appealing male.

The man he was about to meet wasn’t hiding, but oddly was acting in full sight. Nonetheless, Baul didn’t want to be seen with him, Baul was an ambassador of sort from Erpet and he couldn’t be seen entering in an Assassin’s house. In Cromash, the Assassins were quite a respectable and wealthy, but in Erpet they were outlaw… one of the numerous differences between the two kingdoms, one they would never agree upon. Baul found it quite useful though; many times he’d met Ar’Am Khra, one of the best of this profession.

For this meeting, as always, Baul had chosen a tavern, the Landgurdy, called after one of the former 12 kingdoms. The 4 remaining ones were at war most of the times, they couldn’t maintain peace more than a few years at best, and Baul had found many ways of benefiting of this situation. Merchant, Ambassador, and much more. He was thriving with plotting and it was quite useful to be one of the ambassadors of Erpet Mesh, offering him safety wherever he was going. It was one of the few respected rules that were common between the Warring Kingdoms.

The Landgurdy was quite a crowded tavern, and the owner was a friend of his, though not really officially. There was that private room on the rear of the building, know only of a few chosen “friends”, so they could enter unnoticed by the usual customers and by would be spies. The rear door was seemingly leading into another building, and some arrangements had been made over the years.

Baul knocked the code at the door, and a vasistas was open quickly and closed even more quickly. The door opened then and he entered in the darkness of the house. If anyone opened the door, he or she wasn’t there anymore, but Baul knew the place quite well as it wasn’t his first meeting with the Assassin.

The Assassin was waiting in the small room, square shaped with only a wood table and one chair. No window. One dim lamp.
He was sitting on the lone carved chair. His clients needn’t sit.
They were mere beggers.
The one that was coming now, was quite amusing.
The first time he met him, Baul was quite young and inexperienced in his own skills. Though he was quite ambitious, Ar’Am Khra had to admit it.
The usual reaction when seeing the Assassin’s pale complexion was shivers and disgust. He was used to it and it was a game that he had enhanced with a little bluish glowing dagger tattooed on his forehead.
The dagger was the mark of his profession, though not so obviously exhibited by the others. Cowards.
At that first meeting, Baul didn’t react the way his other clients did. And it was not influenced by his utmost concerns at that time. Beside his inexperience he was quite engrossed in what he had called his “mission”.
Ar’Am Khra did not know of any mission, there were merely contracts.
And he was doing what his clients were paying for.
Accomplishing his contract even after the death of his clients.

He was remembering of an amusing event.
A client had hired him to end the life of another man, and the second man went a few days after to his office to beg him to kill the first man.
The Assassin accepted the contract.
A few days later he killed the second man.
He executed the first one not long after that, thus respecting the second contract.

He never questioned the motives of his clients.
It was not for him to judge or to understand. Though most of the time he did understand quite well.
His main motivation was the payment and his own pride in expressing his skill with subtleties and newness.

The door opened smoothly. Baul entered the room.

Yann and Quintin had an interesting chat during the afternoon. Yann had some new impressions about the map of Lord Wrick annotated by Quintin. Something about the Warring Kingdoms, triggered by a dream of an Assassin in one of them. It was frustrating not to be in the same room so Yann could show Quintin directly on the map, but with Internet there were some other options.

The names of these lands were Ata’Meliu, Dam Adbor, Erpet Mesh and Cromash Tur. These 4 Kingdoms were rather scattered on the Lan’Ork part of the continent, pieces and bits everywhere, though Ata’Meliu was more in the center and the South of the Lan’Ork, Dam Adbor in the East and in the North, and Cromash Tur in the West and South West parts, Erpet was divided in 2 main areas, one located on the Northern land just before the Isthmus of Ghört’s Hammer, and a smaller one lost in the middle of Ata’Meliu.

Yann only had the impression of 2 of the capitals, Naat Medin was the one of Erpet Mesh and Nâabooli of Cromash Tur.

Quintin just sent him the map so he could draw some more comments and sketch the boundaries of the Warring Kingdoms. He didn’t know why, but he felt some movements were about to begin, some reconfigurations of the borders

Well I think I can answer that for you, said a small round green blobby creature, in response to Roselyn’s question. The creature had actually been sitting there all the time, however everyone had assumed it was some sort of exotic plant.

Let me introduce myself, I am Frowdup, yes an unusual name I know. I am a long time and faithful friend to the dear little Fairy Princess, who is rather friendless at the moment owing to her extraordinarily antisocial behaviour , such as that which you see so sadly exhibited before you.

Frowdup cleared his throat in an important and significant sort of way. I will try and relate this sad tale as succinctly and precisely as possible, he said.

Our dear little Fairy Princess was the head Fairy Princess of the Hot Pink and Sky Blue bands of the North East Fairies from the Land of the Long White Cloud. Each Fairy Princess in her initiate years has a witch assigned to her, to help her develop her magical abilities. Our dear little Fairy Princess was designated one of the 13 Witches of Loathing, Whanga, from the far North of the North Island of the Land of the Long White Cloud.

Dear Fairy Princess had her own cave which she took admirable pains to make sure was always fully stocked with sand. You know about the sand of course? I can see you are a woman of great stature, no offense intended, I mean I can see you are tremendously well versed in the ways of magic yourself, so you will know that some of the more basic ways of magic involve a symbolic representation of magical symbols, so to speak, such as sand and wands and whatnot sort of thingies. Really completely unnecessary, of course, as you will know, however for her, each grain of sand was the exact and precise equivalent of one wish, activated by a determined wave of her magic wand and the words abracadabra. Yes, I know, very primitive, but she is a very young initiate, although I will say she showed great potential had Whanga the Witch of Loathing not managed to convince her of her own lack of worth.

Whanga was constantly and every single moment whispering in the ear of the Fairy Princess magic spells of self loathing. My young friend lacked the expertise to counteract these powerful spells and began to believe them. One day she was so sad at her own horridness that she could bear it no longer and put a spell on herself. This enabled her to curl up into a deep sleep of forgetfulness for a rather long time, enabling Whanga to easily procure said wand. In addition to this Whanga managed to obtain the source of the music which the Fairy Princess felt she required in order to help her to fly. When the dear little Fairy Princess awakened from her sleep, she was devastated by the loss of her wand and music, and still convinced of her own worthlessness you see this poor creature before you today.

The poor creature had stopped sobbing and was glaring at Frowdup.

Illi was quite pleased with the sand dragons.

HHHMMM, they don’t repulse me like dragons usually do. I think it’s because they are sand dragons, and sand is so much nicer than slimy cold scales. Well! Illi thought, I really wouldn’t know if they are slimy or cold, because, for the love of all-that-is, I would not choose to venture that close!

Illi chose to ignore her rather paradoxical musings on loving all that is, which would by definition include the beastly dragons, and turned her attention to the sand giant slouching patiently at the end of the beach.

Now giants, that’s another thing entirely. I am quite enamoured of giants, and this one looks so familiar!

Illi leaned back against the sand dragons bulky body and closed her eyes, reminiscing about her early years as Illi Fergusson, and her eccentric family.

When Illi was a young child she rarely saw her parents, the eccentric Lord Gustard Willoughby Fergusson and his charmingly batty second wife, Floribunda Chaiise-Loriket. Illi stayed at home in the anscestral country pile in Dorset, Rubbingdon Hall, with Nanny Chraddock while her parents travelled the world in search of giant bones and artifacts. Their travels took them far and wide, from the jungles of South America to the deserts of North Africa; from the mountains of Spain to the arid eternity of the Australian outback.

Illi used to play a game with Cranky (as she affectionately called nanny Chraddock) in the long months while her parents were away, called Wish House. Every room in the sprawling Elizabethan house was a different time and place, and the moment they entered the room they imagined themselves to be different people, in other times. Petunia Duster the maid loved to join in too; consequently not alot of housework got done, but with Gus and Flora always off travelling, nobody minded. Playing was, after all, so much more important than dust. In fact, a thick layer of dust made the rooms all the more mysterious and magical.

‘Laughter is Priceless’ .

— Hey Genie! Look at this. India Louise held a gold locket up to the lamp. It’s inscribed on the back, look: laughter is priceless.
— What’s on the front? Eugenia asked, moving closer.
The locket was egg shaped and had an unusual south pacific motif on the top, and an inscription in comic sans font on the bottom. Open it, Indy, see if there’s anything inside. Eugenia shivered. OOOhh someone just walked over my grave, she said, shuddering again. It’s weird in here, eh.
— Yeah, bit scarey really, India Louise giggled, fumbling with the locket catch.

Becky noticed the round jars of coloured sand on the shelf as she went to look for some chocolate. She hadn’t known why at the time, but she’d followed the impulse to bring a little sand home with her from special places, usually scooped up quickly and a bit furtively in the clear plastic wrapper of a cigarette packet. They were all lined up in little round jars from a disused yogurt making machine in front of her unused cookbooks on the kitchen shelf.