"I've been thinking about Derrin," said Lirenna.

     She and Thomas were sitting across their living room table. Their stomachs full, the remains of their evening meal before them. She'd been waiting for the right moment to broach the subject, and this was it; the few minutes during which he sat still, letting the meal go down, before settling down in his armchair and getting his nose in a book or sitting at his desk. Scribbling notes for another book of his own. Once he was engrossed in something, it was hard to rouse him out of it. Oh, he would talk to her. He would put down his book or his pen and look up at her, but his eyes would keep flicking back to the task he'd left, eager to get back to it, and she could never be sure she had his full attention. This was the time to talk to him, therefore; during these precious few minutes when he wasn't doing anything at all.

     "I was talking to some of his teachers today," she added. "They're still worried he's learning too fast. They say he'll be casting spells within a year unless we do something."

     Thomas nodded seriously, sharing her concern. At first, both his parents had been delighted by their son's progress, but just lately they'd started to grow a little alarmed by the sheer rate at which he was learning, or rather, by what he was learning. They had brought him here merely to improve his mundane education. He was much too young to begin learning magic yet. His frail body was ill prepared to handle the stresses of actual magic use, but even in the carefully shielded environment of the pre-apprentice classes he was still somehow soaking up the important first principles like a sponge, as if by some strange telepathy. His body was absorbing magic from the environment as fast as a fully qualified wizard and he practised the finger movements of spell casting at every opportunity. Something his parents had at first encouraged, thinking it a harmless headstart that would stand him in good stead when he began his magical education.

     Now, though, they discouraged him, gently but firmly. He had agreed, at first, but now and again Lirenna had caught him practising furtively, the first time he'd ever actively disobeyed them. His teachers had begun speaking to them a few months before, telling them what was going on and warning them of the dangers. "He should wait until his body reaches puberty," Mistress Meska had said, his calligraphy tutor and one of Derrin's favourite teachers. "I know he has the mind of a teenager, but he still only has the body of an eight year old child and I'd hate to see such a promising lad burn himself out."

     The trouble was, no-one knew how much longer he'd have to wait before reaching puberty. No two demi shae folk were alike, each inheriting a different mix of human and shayen characteristics from their parents. He might put on a growth spurt at any time, or it might be another thirty years before his body began to mature. Could they reasonably expect him to sit on his hands for another three decades when, mentally, he was ready to start casting spells right now?

     "I've been thinking about it," said Lirenna. "I think we should take him back to Haven for a few years. He needs time to let his body catch up with his mind, and he can use the time to get in touch with his shayen heritage. There's so much grandfather can teach him about his people, his culture. I want him to grow up knowing who he is. Where he comes from."

     Thomas nodded reluctantly. "I see all that," he agreed, "but I don't like taking him away from his education during his formative years. Now is the time when he's absorbing information most efficiently. Right now he's like a dry sponge for knowledge and he has access to the best teachers in the world. They say he's never out of the library. He spends every spare moment reading everything he can get his hands on. Can we in all conscience take him away from all that?"

     "It's precisely because these are his formative years that he needs to be among his own people," countered Lirenna. "I don't want him to grow up thinking of his own people as strangers, and we have to stop him learning magic too soon. I don't want to see him hurt."

     "But you and I can't return to Haven yet," pointed out Thomas. "We've been chosen to be crewmembers of the Ship of Space, on a mission of enormous importance to the whole world. We might be called upon to teleport out at any moment. Are you saying we should drop out of the Rossem project?"

     Lirenna heard the fear in his voice. He would do exactly that and follow her back to Haven if she asked him to, she knew. He loved exploring the unknown, but he loved her and Derrin more. She couldn't ask that of him, though. It would tear her heart out to see that far horizons look in his eyes for the rest of his life. "Of course not," she said therefore, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. "We can take him back to Haven and then return here. Grandfather'll look after him."

     "But that's a journey of many months. We can't be away for that long."

     "We'll take a carpet. They'll want to get us back as quickly as possible, they'll let us take a carpet. We can be back in a couple of weeks." At his doubtful look, she went on. "The Jules Verne's been out in space for weeks already and they haven't needed us. They can do without us for a little while longer."

     Thomas nodded reluctantly. "I suppose if it's best for him. When we brought him here I had no idea he would develop so quickly. We've been here less than two years, and he's only been receiving a mundane education. I was in the fourth year of magic lessons before I began to feel the magic force. Felt I might be able to control it, use it. You don't suppose..."

     He stopped abruptly, and Lirenna saw him tensing up with worry. She rose from her chair and went to stand beside him. He stood also, and the two of them walked into the bedroom, where they could sit on the edge of the bed together. She took one of his hands in both of hers, and she felt the rapid pulse in his wrist. His heart was hammering madly! "What?" she demanded. "What is it?"

     "These dreams I've been having. The embryonic dragons in their tanks. The other things. I began having them during the quest for the Scrolls of Skava, before he was born, or even conceived. If there's something alien in me, what if it's been passed on to him as well? It could be doing things to him..."

     Lirenna touched her fingers to his mouth. "You're worrying unnecessarily," she whispered into his ear. "He's just a normal boy..."

     "But that's just it, he isn't. His eyes are blue, like mine. Mine are due to the flow of magic force through my body, spell related paramorphosis, or at least that's what they say, but what caused it in him? And remember what he did in the testing chair."

     "He's exceptionally gifted, that's all, and his eyes are blue because yours are. He's not going to be the new Malefactos and he'd have told me if he were having dreams like yours. He's happy, he's healthy, he's gifted and he hasn't a care in the world. We should give thanks to the Gods for the way he's turning out."

     Thomas nodded. "You're right," he said, and Lirenna felt him relax. "It's just that he's developing so fast! You're right, he needs to go back to Haven for a while. A breathing space, a chance for him to catch up with himself. And his education doesn't have to be neglected, we can duplicate half the library if necessary and take it back with us. Your grandfather will be delighted to oversee his education."

     "Delighted doesn't come close," cried Lirenna, hugging him joyfully. "Oh Tom, I love you so much!"

     "Not as much as I love you," replied Thomas, grinning. "It'll be strange not having him around, though. I'll miss him."

     "It'll only be for a short while. We can go back ourselves when this Rossem business is over. We'll be together again, the three of us, and when he's older he can come back here to complete his training. He'll still be a wizard, but not before he's ready for it."

     They sat together for a long time, each enjoying the feel of the others body, but Lirenna could tell there was something else bothering her husband. She questioned him about it, but it took quite a bit of gentle prodding before she could finally get him to talk.

     "It's the dreams," he said reluctantly. "They've changed. They used to be just isolated images, like a glimpse into a room as you go past the window, but now they're becoming like stories from part of someone's life. It's as if I'm remembering things I did from years ago, except they're from someone else's life, not mine. Like memories from a previous life, as if I'm someone's reincarnation."

     Lirenna nodded. "I guessed it was something like that. Your sleep's been restless lately, but I thought you'd tell me when you were ready to."

     "I was going to tell you. I was just waiting for the right moment. I suppose I was hoping they'd go away on their own, but it doesn't look as though they're going to. I'm going to keep remembering more and more until I know as much about this chap's life as I do about my own.”

     “Maybe you need to talk about this to someone,” said Lirenna, frowning unhappily. “Someone who can help you. An oneiromancer. A dream wizard..."

     "These aren't ordinary dreams. I doubt one of them could help me. Saturn thinks they're just acquired memories from an undead creature I came into contact with once, although I'm sure I'd remember something like that, and the clerics just throw their hands up when they find I'm not possessed. No, it's something I've got to come to terms with on my own. Try to remember that they're things that happened to someone else, not me."

     "Perhaps if you told someone," suggested Lirenna, carefully studying his face. "You could tell me. I'd like to know about this chap who's intruding into your thoughts."

     "Tak. His name's Tak. It would take a long time to tell it all. There's a whole lifetime of memories in here."

     "You don't have to tell all of it. Just the highlights. Enough to give me an idea of who this Tak chap is. You could write it down, perhaps. Loose leaves of paper so you can fill in the details as you remember them."

     Thomas stared at her in sudden interest. "Yes," he said thoughtfully. "Yes, I think I might do that. I think that might help." He stood again and went back into the tiny living room, began sorting through the papers on his desk.

     "I didn't mean right now!" said Lirenna, following him, but her husband paid her no attention.

     "I want to make a start," he said. "Maybe when I've got a few pages set down..."

     Lirenna sighed to herself in resignation. This was how it always was. Once he got started on something, there was no stopping him. He was like a dog after a rabbit. He wouldn't give up until he'd dug all the way down to the deepest chamber of its warren and had it firmly between his jaws. As far as he was concerned, she and the rest of the world had ceased to exist, so there was nothing she could do but gather up the dirty dishes and carry them into the kitchen to wash them and put them away.

☆☆☆

     Thomas spent the rest of the evening writing, forgetting his late night cup of Lydian tea even when Lirenna placed it in front of him, and he would have carried on all through the night if she hadn't grown firm with him at midnight and dragged him to bed.

     He returned to it first thing in the morning, though, forgetting his breakfast and eating only the occasional morsels she poked into his mouth. Occasionally he would stop and go over what he'd written already, adding corrections and scoring out entire paragraphs which he wrote out again on another sheet of paper. "No, no, no, that's not how it was. No, that happened later, mustn't get ahead of myself. No, it was an oil lamp. The candles were kept for Winterfest. No, the storm didn't happen until Balfin was born, the poor mite."

     Lirenna paid close attention to his mutterings, trying to get some idea of what he was writing about, but Thomas refused to let her read any of it just yet. "Let me get it straight first, okay?" Lirenna nodded unhappily and left him to it.

     He had to take a break during the afternoon to check on an experiment he was helping Edward and Karem with, but fortunately he couldn't carry on with his work as Pondar Walton's assistant until the experiment was concluded, so for the next few days he was going to have a lot of free time. Perfect. He finished off as quickly as he could, therefore, and dashed back home. By the setting of the yellow sun he had a thick sheaf of papers, so full of corrections and hastily scribbled inserts that it was almost illegible, and Lirenna glanced at it dubiously as Thomas read through it one last time.

     "I hope you're not expecting me to be able to read that," she said.

     Thomas grinned, feeling much better. "I may write it out neatly one day, make a book out of it perhaps when I've remembered the rest of his life. The childhood of an Old Garonian wizard, soon to be followed by his apprenticeship, adulthood and old age. For now, though, it's just a collection of notes to help me get things straight in my head. I thought I'd just tell you about this chap in my head, just referring to these so I know where I am. That sound okay to you?"

     Lirenna beamed. "That sounds perfect."

     "Okay," said Thomas, encouraged. "At first these memories were of his family and friends. The people around him. I know lots about his parents and sister, for instance, at least from the time when Tak was a boy. He was orphaned young, you see. His parents were killed and Laira lost in a forest. If he ever saw her again, I haven't remembered it yet. It's only recently I've begun to get some of Tak's own memories."

     "How did his parents die?"

     "They were ambushed in a forest by a tribe of, well, I'm not quite sure what they were. They were like shologs in general shape, but not quite as completely bestial as the snouts we know today. They were like half snouts. Half breeds between shologs and humans, or perhaps a sub race that's since become extinct. I'll call them shologs, though, for want of a better word. They killed Tak's parents. Tak and Laira ran into the forest, trying to escape. Some of the snouts went off after her, but I've got no idea whether they found her or not."

     He paused, staring at his wife. "It's funny, but I feel as much grief over their fate as I did when I heard the news about my own parents, even though they died over three thousand years ago. Would still have been dead for three thousand years even if they'd lived to a ripe old age. I find myself close to tears sometimes. Maybe I'm still upset over Elmias's death."

     Lirenna put a hand over his arm, gave him a gentle squeeze.

     "Anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself," Thomas added, trying to cheer himself up. "I want to start at the beginning."

     "Then do so," said Lirenna. "I'd prefer to hear it in the correct order as well."

     "Okay. Well, the earliest memories are pretty indistinct, just like my own earliest real memories. Tak's mother singing to him, scolding him for some minor piece of naughtiness or other. Playing with his sister, that kind of thing. It's not until he's five or six that I can start putting things together into any kind of coherent order..."