The Sidhe had left Paris more quickly than they had come, fading out of sight just before dawn of the next day and leaving a bewildered city of mere mortals wondering how they had directed the power that constructed buildings or resod parks in flashing of light. Bent time perhaps, only in specific areas and in varying amounts within each small space...however impossible that sounded the fact was thick well-rooted trees stood where none had before, rocks had shifted up from beneath the earth to pave a city full of streets and walkways, and glass and metal had seemingly wrought themselves from molten state to finished archtectural element.

      They had left apart from the strangely grown structures only two of their number, David and Sascha. She had been unable to move at all when Elzbieta found her, until Claudia brought her frame.

      Now Paris was growing in population. Whether it was the speeches given or the news footage of miraculous growth inside and outside the city couldn't yet be determined, but ex-residents returned daily. Their new Premier had set up temporary offices within a structure half composed of faerie-stacked stones and windows. Even the floors lived in some rooms. It was the building the Faerie had left in the most complete state of repair, apart from those which had already stood whole before that night. It was relatively close to the park, closest to the center of the magics still marked by ring of mushrooms.

      Furnishings unlike the building itself had been brought in from other parts of the city so that Martyr had a more conventional office than John had, still living out of a trailer. The boy leader sat behind his scavenged antique desk with glass top covering the deep scars of the wooden top where falling rubble had buried it. In this room sunlight came in through colonnade of trees just outside and window etched with intricate knotwork motif, the light made Martyr's grey eyes look a little like silver. "I think it's going to be a real rebirth from the city," Martyr said as John listened from a corner. "Faye says it is clear to her they left these resources for us to use. I feel she is right, yet it is also a test. It is a tremendous gift, but not without some price. You see?"

      "They will watch?" John asked.

      Martyr shook his head and frowned. It was John's mood. He couldn't shake the sense of doom he'd been feeling since the Faeries had been there. Martyr continued anyway as Michael popped his head in the door. It was a door that had once been in building elsewhere and had just appeared in this one with the rest of the structure. "I feel we are meant to prove ourselves worthy of the gift of such resource in such short time by using it wisely and without destructive manner. I am a child, and well, children are told faerietales. They usually have a moral." Martyr waved Michael into the room. The man was no longer head of the Metro Noir, only a member. His job now was vice minister or somesuch which meant he was Martyr's continued advisor and added an older face to the leadership of this new Paris.

      "Go on," Michael suggested.

      Martyr nodded, "In faerietales, often a magical creature teaches a mortal a lesson. Sometimes they do not so much teach as punish the foolish and greedy and reward the noble and kind. So, I'm sure that I must lead my people in existing within this strange city without damaging what the Faerie have offered. We may fell certain trees, move the stones perhaps, even pick the fruit or kill some animals to feed ourselves. But the moment we make waste of the animal we slay rather than use every part of it, or tear down a building such as this, pave over their mushroom ring, I expect it may all fade and fail to sustain itself."

      "I have to agree," John said. "I'm trying," he said when he saw the boy was distraught with his mood. "Really, I find beauty in what they have done here. Your people are happier than I have known them to be before. This building you stay in is magical. It's just they wounded me. I'll get over it. Claudia will make me."

      "We both care about you. I know you will get over it, John. It was you who taught me how to be, the way you were. From the Goth I have learned that if one hunts a deer one must justify the death of a creature by using every part of it to benefit other lives. Meat to eat, blood to cook into food, sinew to sew or bind, bones to craft tools, antlers to make more tools...you know better than I. If a tree is felled another must be planted. The faerie prize nature, and unlike concrete it has a way of growing back all on its own given time, even in devastating circumstances. It seems we must bring back the best and most advanced technology as we are able, Claudia advises this and she knows so much about technology. We must rebuild the remainder of the city with our own human ingenuity and methods. Yet the things the faerie left must stay."

      "Will be all the more romantic and grand. Tourism and culture will soon be restored. We need the revenue. If the war would end we may do well," Michael said.

      "Well, for what it is worth we remain your ally."

      "As we do yours," Martyr said, "At the moment we need your technology. Michael and Claudia have made it clear this was one cause of war, the odd distribution of technology and technicians."

      John nodded. "I understand Robbie and Leonore are being sent. Two of our best."

      Martyr smiled. It did warm John somewhat, to see the boy could smile at him and wasn't hanging from a cross. The boy was sane and safe even if John wasn't. "You'll do fine, Martyr, Michael is here, and St. John says Aje has communicated with his men again, he is on his way back into Paris. Faye remains in the Haven below, will advise you with any Darkling issues. Besides, now that I think of it, Aje is Sidhe, so he'll be able to warn you if you begin to displease them."

      "If he doesn't run off with them again."

      "I don't think he had a choice from what Sascha says," John replied quickly. He had spoken with her himself since that day. She remembered everything but was clear about not having a real choice and about not feeling herself during that night.

      "I like her," Martyr said, "I mean she seems very nice."

      "And she's pretty," John offered, "But not right for you I'm afraid. I guarantee there are already French girls madly in love with you. If you wish to know which are sincere, ask Faye."

      "And boys probably," Martyr said.

      "Ah, Martyr, you strike me as the sort who likes girls," John laughed.

      The boy blushed red, "I do...I was trying to make a joke...didn't come out quite right." He smiled wide then, eyes glittering up at John. "but you sound better. All it takes is talk of girls."

      Michael laughed. He glanced at John slyly. Not only girls, of course, but, mainly so.

      John assented with a tip of his head. "I do rather like them. I feel a bit better. It's that I can remember more clearly how it felt to first begin to be in love." John shook his head to spite himself. "What I should do is go to church. I have not been to a real mass in a long time. It's no wonder I feel unclean. Besides, I always am more at peace, feel more complete love for everyone when I have been."

      "Well, it is perhaps the least I can do for all you've done for me, but let me take you to the church my parents used to take me to. It managed to survive." He was silent a moment, probably thinking that his parents had not survived.

      They went together to this Church by name of St. Cloud walking over the new grass and cobbled roadways and taking a shortcut underground through a new section of tunnel John had helped to build. The Faerie had left evidence of their visit below ground as well. Tree roots and stones were placed so to seal tunnels and holes. Where craters had been tree roots tangled to hold soil above.

      John and Martyr came to the church and found the priest. This priest Martyr knew well and introduced him as Father Edmund. The church had done without normal schedule of anykind during the riots and war and continuing into their aftermath. There were not enough people to be served by such a schedule. At Martyr's request Father Edmund heard a confession from each separately. John made his first, telling the priest that he had recently had a disturbing dream. Without giving details he told of his fear of doing evil sinful things. Even though Claudia had said as much John felt better when the priest told him that there was no sin unless John acted out these fears. He suggested it was a dream sent by God to warn him of the dangers of straying.

      While Martyr was being confessed John looked about at the statuary. St Cloud was a hermit who had once been a Prince. His uncle or some relative equally as close had tried to kill the Prince and his brothers in order to usurp the kingdom. Cloud had escaped and rather than try to regain the kingdom he had lived as a monk. Clearly a good man but not inspiring to John. Why leave the kingdom to murderers? As much as chore as politics were, they were necessary in keeping order once established and protecting that order.

      John found the resident Madonna more comforting.

      When Martyr had been confessed Father Edmund said a brief mass, skipping over the long sermon almost entirely to ask if the young men had questions regarding the gospel reading of the day. As there were none mass continued and after receiving communion there were only a few additional prayers and a blessing. There was no music or singing, with two people who didn't profess to sing well it seemed appropriate.

      With permission they stayed in the church after Father Edmund had gone back to his chores. Martyr asked John if he felt much better.

      John looked again at the madonna.  "Yes," he said, "I do really."

      "Let's go, I'm sure someone is in need of us."

      Someone usually was.

      Martyr walked them back by another path. This way they passed more lots where buildings had been cleared. There were rows of various flowering bushes here. A team of workers were surveying a foundation. As Martyr and John passed members of the work team stopped to call greetings. "Good to see people at work again," Martyr said, "I'm heading back to the office myself."

      They called back farewells or wished luck. Martyr wished them the same.

      As they crossed the park, John saw a number of Goth and realized it was lunch time. They were seated on the lawn having a meal. "I think I'll stay here," John said.

      "Later then," Martyr said and made a wave.

      John saw Elonwey was not far and went to her.

      "Good to see you," she said.

      "You too. I'm afraid I've felt bad recently. I'm much better now. I just was at church."

      Elonwey nodded as she smiled up at John.  He sat down with her. Gloria was with her. Gloria offered half of a sandwich on a bagette. John took the sandwich, was starving. He realized Elonwey was grinning. Gloria snickered. "What?"

      "I'm pregnant," Elonwey said.

      He nearly choked. "Really?"

      Elonwey beamed and touched his knee gently. "We're having a baby."

      Another. He had two pregnant wives. John dropped the sandwich and gave Elonwey a proper and deserved kiss. He had neglected her for days in his moodiness. "Much better now," he said. "I hope it's a little girl...but I'm sure I'll be delirious no matter."

      "Would be a pretty girl," Elonwey said coyly.

      John pinched her cheek. "As cute as you?"

      She blushed. Her hair was so fine and pale he could see the blush in her scalp. John laughed softly as Elonwey scooted closer. She lay her head on his shoulder. "Eat your sandwich," she said. She couldn't see but John smiled down on her. In his nightmare, there had been no Elonwey. There was nothing he feared about her or from her. John ate his sandwich.

                      †               †               †

      When Claudia trained with David it was still "See the pebble," or, "be this blade of grass," and Claudia tried, could sometimes learn things from the objects, but what she hid from David would probably be the talent that would most impress him and convince him Claudia did have the ability to see past surfaces. She was with the circuitry, Claudia was the electronic on and then off of binary signals. She was at once the kernel of the operating system, a signal within an optic cable, lines of text in a foreign machine, an avatar in a virtual megaopolis and several applets running in the background. She was aware of conversation with those represented virually as much as she was of sitting in Sascha's RV having her hair braided or sifting through thousands of captured transmissions for that one or two which might tell them how the war really went.

      There were new files in accessible storage within this area of the virtual city, a bunch of scrolling symbols that to most anyone else would be a well rendered three-dimensional space with the furnishings of a café or book store. The VC held the border between Goth, Switzerland and Gaul.  The DG were pressing southward still, driving the armies of the EL before them. Scientists in New Zealand had noticed an abundance of sea vegetation as compared to other years.

      "We're not safe here," Claudia said and slowly let go of the virtual as she focused more on the real. It was easier this way, gradually shifting. It bothered her that only the three with her could know about this skill.

      "Who is it?" Sascha asked quietly. She was the one just finishing the braids in Claudia's hair. Jayne and Erik were nearby, working at their own machines. The usual dim red light glowed on them. The smell of coffee was never fully gone though Marcus was long absent.

      Claudia wondered if the brain was able to purposely forget things learned which were unimportant. If she could avoid the myriad redundant and irrelevant data being filed in long term...but Sascha was talking. "Oh, right," Claudia said. The transition was sometimes disorienting.

      "If you stayed in there long enough we'd begin hearing rumours of some mad rogue AI unleashed onto the net by a blackcrafter," Erik joked.

      Claudia made a smile. Humour used to point out the horror at the thought that Claudia might dwell in virtual space somehow and abandon her body. There were already cyber novels about such things.

      "The speeches made it clear without doubt where we are. Those groups that might have been small enough to slip through the DG and who have cause to make themselves enemies to the Goth or to me personally now know where to find us. Specifically, I viewed transmissions of loosely connected cells from Pepe and a series between individuals within that and the Rowan. Actually, I found most of it not at all hidden on the net. They have their presence there as we do. All the worst crackers drop in to exchange rumour and the like."

      "We should take down their sites," Sascha said.

      "I was so tempted. Some are vulnerable to the smallest talent. But I figure that we can use their sites so long as we know they are there."

      "Assuming they don't throw up false info," Sascha warned.

      Claudia nodded rather serious in expression. She considered this also. "The number of different groups who rely on such sites for their latest propaganda and rumour could not be given fair warning of such a rouse without us being able to find the warning. To fool us they would also have to fool most of their allies. These groups, they are small and separate, sometimes not more than one guy in his garage rehashing outdated white supremacist newsletters by replacing white with Human and non-white with Darkling."

      "Same old same old, took my funds, my job, and convinced my daughter I was an idiot," Sascha added showing she knew what Claudia meant.

      "You wonder," Erik began, "If someone has a form letter and a data file associated with column of the hated groups and column of the acceptable groups? They could send the same message out to everyone talking about how this or that group has gotten away with too much and should be dealt with personally."

      "It's been done," Claudia said, "I used to monitor all the known groups and their net sites when I worked with my father. It's what I did constantly. Fortunately their arguments are mostly based on generalities and lack substance so intelligent people aren't going to buy into the plot."

      "Let's not go into it," Sascha said, "It disturbs me. Next we'll have Goths complaining about the Balkan refugees and I'll lose my will to flame everyone."

      Claudia put on a smile though Sascha sat behind. "Then as influential citizens of Goth we should make sure that in this time of crisis refugees are taken in and aided without causing those who came earlier to feel cheated. It is good you bring it up. In such times when populations shift it is easy for good people to become disillusioned and blame another group. The easy path shall not be for us. I'll look into the situation."

      Sascha sighed. "Let me know if you need help. I may as well take on the role of administration of education in hopes I won't have to completely flame anyone later."

      Claudia laughed. "You have such low tolerance for ignorance."

      "I lead the BCG let's remember. Who is more seemingly pretentious?"

      "When you're elite you must remember not everyone can be as good as you," Erik recited.

      "Kindness toward the mundane earns more than flames," Jayne chimed in.

      Claudia giggled and her voice sounded high pitched. "Patience is a virtue and absolutely necessary when dealing with technophobes."

      "How long till we're found then?"Sacha asked.

      Claudia calmed herself. "They found us, they just haven't gotten to the city yet. We need to leave, as soon as possible. If we don't they will hurt others in looking for us, or damage the city."

      "Will you tell John?" Sascha asked.

      "I'll have to," Claudia said.

      "Where can we go?" Erik asked, "Our maps put nothing but war south. Can we get into Goth if we go north."

      "And if they follow us there?" Claudia asked.

      "Now I'm lost. We'll have to deal with them sometime," Sascha said. The braids were done. She got up and moved to the couch.

      Claudia nodded. "Wherever we go, they will follow. At least the Rowan and PU cells I'm talking about. The rest of the EL is against Goth over that VC thing, but they are under attack and can't get to us. But the small cells are mobile and low profile. They will follow us, not attack Goth unless we go there. Now maybe I should ask you all to go home and they will follow me. I'm ready to do that."

      "It isn't just you," Sascha said, "There's a number of us they are after now. You weren't the only hacker wanted by terorists or military groups. Besides, after what happened the other night I couldn't go back, not like this. It's been proven that under some circumstances I can tap into a power I usually can't even feel. If I left you I'd have to go join the ranks of the DG, it's the most responsible alternative."

      "But the others could leave," Claudia said.

      "Well, not David or his friends. And they don't like John. And really if you think about it anyone leaving could potentially become a hostage. What if they abducted Elonwey? Or Li'l Alaric?"

      "I suppose the only thing to do is to tell John we must go and be honest with the tribe about the dangers and what the alternatives are."

      "We'll all follow you, you know that," Jayne said.

      Claudia nodded. The Goth left with them had chosen to go this far. They were not the sort to leave. Each might even be willing to die on principle. "I'll tell John. You can quietly start to pack up your own gear. Get Miko and Marek in on this. When your own gear is stored we'll need a good inventory. We did a lot of trading and sharing in getting here."

      "Done," Sascha agreed.

                      †               †               †

      "Not until Aje returns to the city," John said. He looked to Justin and to Captain St. John for support. Justin gave a short nod. St. John just grunted, probably thought himself capable to wait for Aje.

      "The closest cells won't wait," Claudia pointed out, directing her comment to Martyr who sat atop his desk with chin propped on the knuckles of both hands. The boy made no answer. "John," Claudia implored.

      "I realize how we are a target, believe me, but we don't know where Aje is. He's always been the city's defender for as long as I remember. And he's powerful. Once he's back I'm sure Paris will be safe."

      "Justin, you can't mean to engage the terrorist cells?" Claudia asked.

      "I follow orders, Lady."

      Claudia slit her eyes. Justin was more than that. Claudia looked about the room. Faye and Michael were out with work groups of those who might have been more supportive. "Martyr?"

      "I respect what you both say, but to be honest, as safe as I feel with more of you about or with Aje, it is foolish for me as Premir to rely on any force other than my own. The Armée de Paris followed Monsieur Morté, but as they can tell you, it's well known most of his original mercenary force was lost in the riots...though I know it was only in saving many others they did die, as heros. But, you understand John? This Army under Captain St. John here are nearly all native Parisians. Even if Aje were not to return they would remain to defend us to the last, as they have been several years now in worse conditions."

      "I see," John said.

      "No disrespect to the Peacekeepers or Sacred Battalion but the Armée de Paris does not require your assistance at this time. I don't ask you to leave, we are all friends, but I ask you to do what is really best for all. What do you see as best for all, John?"

      "You are a politician already, Martyr," John said lightly. "I'll have all the Goth in Paris load up. We'll leave the way we came, to the southeast. We'll be sure to make a live broadcast of our farewell so they know we aren't in Paris anymore."

      "You should ask the Americans to leave," St. John said.

      "Why, Captain? Just so I am sure of your reasoning..."

      "Of course, Monsieur Premier, it is because they are a military target, an active Union force. My men are known to be a local defense force. They are a rather infamous band. They and their contrymen helped us a lot and I would not force them out...it would not be my place...but you could ask them."

      Martyr nodded. "That's what I thought you meant. It does seem logical. Is it logical, Claudia?"

      "Yes. Logic is not always kind. I shall offer the Lieutenant Colonel opportunity to travel with us again, perhaps he will accept without your needing to ask."

      "I would not like to offend anyone."

      "Unavoidable sometimes," John said to the boy. "If there is nothing else, Justin and I should get to work."

      Martyr nodded, dropped his arms. "I will try to see you off."

      "And if you will excuse me I will speak to Gates," Claudia said.

      "Thank you," Martyr said to her.

      She only nodded as if this was nothing.

      The Americans, as the Goth, had temporarily been housed in one of the towers. Claudia easily found their commanding officer, he was sitting in a folding director's chair outside, enjoying the scenery. She did not always know what to make of Regen Gates, he was often aristocratic in his demeanor, even in his appearance, as if her were only playing the role of military commander. Claudia knew he was very much a real and successful military commander, had led this same group of men and women to a good number of difficult victories; the officer in charge of a particular homogenous grouping of American and homosexual soldiers, who were Special Forces, she had learned, with detachments of very specialized soldiers associated with them, such as the motorcycle squads or the ex-Crimson Guard Vampyres. The Battalion was indeed special and exemplary, an example of American exceptionalism, perhaps well-deserved of the name Sacred. Gates was the unifying force behind the Sacred Battalion, even if he appeared to Claudia to always consider himself on vacation.

      He barely glanced up as Claudia approached. His usual staff was about. J.J was lounging near his feet, always in the most casual of acceptable uniform, while Rege appeared each morning fully dressed in the most dressy of acceptable uniform. Walker was present, standing in the shade of the building and holding a parasol over his head as well, but Claudia knew he was very much aware.

      "Lieutenant Colonel," Claudia said.

      "I thought I was to be on familiar basis with the Goth?" Rege said.

      "Forgive me, Rege, we have intercepted information that a number...perhaps three within a day and many more later...of Terrorist cells, primarily of Pepe, that's the Protestant Underground, are on their way here. Likely they are after the Goth for the usual reasons. But there are Rowan trailing along with them, perhaps Manchester school, but Rowan will stake Vampyres as easily..."

      "Walker, isn't that stake thing just a myth?" Rege yawned.

      "Yes, Sir, we don't turn to dust when stabbed at with bits of wood, that would be a myth, sir."

      Rege chuckled.

      "I'm serious," Claudia insisted. "I came to ask if you would be able to or would like to travel with us, as we are leaving, in order to not put the locals at risk protecting us."

      "That is noble, Lady, but we could easily take them out if they are bothering you."

      "We're pacifists. We don't ask soldiers to 'take others out'."

      "I could almost buy that from John, but not you, Claudia," Rege said and sat up slightly. "If one sees a dictator set himself up who will surely do no good, well why not send in secret force of soldiers to remove him?"

      "Well, we have the Peacekeeper schwartzGoth, but they are not meant to be assassins or to meddle in foreign politics. And whether my logic says a politician is right or wrong, I still won't ask for him to be killed. To me killing is more a last resort."

      Rege made a tip of his head. "I see, the sort who might murder her children and take her own life rather than be captured or otherwise abused."

      "Yes, as I said, personal, and as a last resort. I really don't seek blood in that way. Though I've nothing against more technological warfare."

      "Bringing down all the customs and immigration system of a country perhaps?" Rege offered. She knew he had files on them all.

      "One more reason for me to move now," Claudia said, "Are you telling me you'd rather stay here and enjoy the scenery? It'll be far more dangerous to the south. Terrorists and enemy armies all over the place. And it's getting colder naturally now."

      "A good soldier doesn't seek the fight," Rege said.

      "He fights when it is necessary and fights well?" Claudia asked.

      Rege nodded.

      "Well staying here would only mean fighting on the new flora among civilians. At least if you leave with us you can say we are a delegation of a foreign government with escort, not really civilians, but still in need of some back up. Or have you new orders?"

      "We'll come with you. I'd be a fool to let the lot of you loose in France now. Either I'd feel bad when you died, or when you caused another revolution. Just give me time to speak to that boy you set up as Premier and send some messages to Washington and Alexandria. We can be ready by tonight if you need."

      Claudia smiled a little, tried to hide it really. "Acceptable," she said. "Give my regards to Caroline and Shade both."

      "You over estimate my connections. J.J. here is the one with famous relatives and Rachael you know has the other famous relatives. I just report to Generals."

      "Well, if you send your regards through the Generals..."

      "I'll only sound pretentious. But I thank you for the confidence. Do you require anything else?"

      "No, Rege," Claudia said with a small curtsey.

                      †               †               †

      All the vehicles of the Goth and Sacred Battalion were lined up on the cobbled street near Martyr's offices. Their young Premier had begun referring to the building as Hotel Sidhe de Paris and now had a bedroom there for himself as well as offices. Inside, the various leaders of the three parties involved, being Parisians, Goths and Americans, were meeting in a lower room that was part of the older surviving half of the original building they thought had been a library. The books were long gone and they sat about the long reading tables. 

      Before their discussion had begun, the group was disturbed by the arrival of Aje Morté. He came into the room without warning, in the black uniform the Army of Paris wore with two small creatures hovering at his shoulders. "You don't have enough guards on lookout," he said to Captain St. John.

      "If you think so I will send more, Monsieur Morté," the Captain said as he snapped to attention.

      Aje gave him leave by his nod and the Captain went to give the order. Aje looked over the rest. He made a bow to Martyr, "I see they chose you to lead, Monsieur Premier," he said.

      "If I may call you Aje, call me Martyr. We were just preparing to see our allies off safely and discussing the last of the arrangements for receiving aide from their nations. You may join us."

      Aje took a seat that was vacated by the Captain. He gave nods to Rege and to Justin. "I took a few of the Underground just a klick or so west of St. Denis," Aje said, "More are on their way."

      "We know," Martyr said. "Anything else, Aje?"

      "I will stay with you and Paris until the war is declared at an end. I will have other business then. I am at your service until that time."

      Martyr nodded. But it made Claudia suspicious of Aje again. 

      Quentin was asked to read a list of Items the Goth retained in surplus or were willing to trade. Much of these were in crafts but included handmade weaponry of excellent quality, clothing, soaps, candles, fabrics, tools for various tasks, furs and leather and assorted decorative items.

      Michael and Martyr looked over this list a while longer and then Michael read their offer for trade. The offer of the Parisians, recently supplied by the DG and thanks to the Sidhe having a nearly full harvest appropriate to the time of year were in a position to offer foodstuffs. They also had a list prepared by the Metro Noir of all scavenged goods available which included a wide range of items in small quantities, batteries, tires, vehicle parts, some fuel, and then collections of specialized things that had by chance survived the series of bombings and riots.

      "We'll accept the trade of food or vehicle parts of any type we can use for whatever you want from our list."

      "We are most interested in metal tools for construction applications, soaps and textiles," Martyr said.

      "Martyr, sir, do you think any of the Armée de Paris has one of their stove top espresso makers to spare?" Sascha asked, "I've seen them use them. We are without our coffee maker...well but for the plain stuff."

      "I will make sure you get one, and that one thing free to you, Sascha, as we were unable to properly protect you while you had our hospitality."

      "I would pay."

      "I know," Martyr said and waved the topic away. "We need to speak of trade between the communal assets. There may be time for individual trade. I'm sure the people have been trading with you already. So, we are agreed? As much of our food as you can carry, without leaving us starving of course, and all the parts we can find for your make of vehicles in exchange for tools plus whatever fabrics and toilet items you can spare. Unfortunately nice fabrics are one of the first things lost, either to the violence or to smoke and water damage resulting from the violence."

      "I know someone who can get you all manner of silk and cotton dirt cheap," David spoke up.

      "Really?" Martyr asked.

      "Faye knows who I mean. And he used to visit Paris all the time when they had surviving fashion designers and boutiques. He'd be happy to assist you in getting that industry started up again. Faye can call him for you."

      "Him...a Vampyre man?"

      Michael whispered something to Martyr, probably explaining he knew the individual David meant, that it was David's maker.

      "I should have thought to offer the information earlier," David spoke up again, "He's very much in import-export business, can get you anything you need from Arab League countries, India, China, Japan...has connections all through the east. Actually he probably lost buildings and businesses he owned in Paris just as your people did, so he understands. Have Faye speak to him."

      "I will, thank you, David," Martyr said. "Is there anything else?"

      "We're ready to leave as soon as we finish loading supplies," John said.

      "As are we," Rege announced, "We are ready now."

      Claudia shook her head. She waited as Martyr announced they would end their meeting to go about the actual trade agreed. When he had left his seat Claudia went to him. "Martyr, before we go, come see me. Some of the tribe has gifts for you."

      "I have something for you actually."

      Claudia waked outside with the others, David following her.  As they exited, the Goth were packing but also had their tradeable wares out as Parisians not at work filed by. Since arriving, the vehicles and most of their luggage had been in the garage so there had been little trade. Now the street was like a bazaar. Their tribe had a hundred or so travelling though perhaps a third of the number were known to Claudia personally as friends or at least as more than face and name. She milled in with the French gazing at the windows and awnings hung with goods. Quentin ran to open the back of his truck and soldiers of the Armée de Paris came to get tools he had made. Claudia touched the knife he had made which she still wore under her skirts.

      Gloria and Jeanette together had all manner of clothing, décor and personal accessories they had sewn on display. Gloria had jewelry besides. Parisian girls were lined up offering older dresses they did not have skill to repair or alter or trinkets rescued from burnt or bombed out stores and houses. Elzbieta was with Elonwey at the moment, both surrounded by Parisian men and women who rapidly thrust scraps of paper between the groups. Claudia gathered they were trading recipies as if they were climbing stocks.

      Oak had furs and leather. An artisGoth named Jean-Rene had a display of just about anything one could use crafted from bone or horn. Jayne and Erik still made a good profit wherever they stopped in trade of scavenged military clothing. Claudia had seen their secret stockpile, it was enormous. Armée de Paris soldiers were trading in bits of uniform or ammunition for non-military wares the two offered, mainly bootleg copies of music and computer programs.

      Miko even had his goods. He specialized in nothing, just found objects. He did not do it so much for profit as for fun, or to get information while in conversation about a trade. He always had been good at finding what was wanted.

      Claudia saw Adelle was watching the children that day. Lil Alaric was one year old and had been walking several months before, spoke a limited vocabulary of German and English. Maureen was already two and not really a baby but a little girl. Rozz was not quite six months and still had to be carried, didn't speak words. She felt like she would give birth any day despite it being only the sixth month or so. And now she knew Elonwey was pregnant, which was good. It was all part of the plan. Plus Merideth had said one night that she and Alaric were going to try to have another baby but that Louisa would not even try for a while yet.

      Adelle handed Rozz over to Claudia. He was a sweet baby, would lay his large head against the side of your neck and fold his arms atop your shoulder and inch up as far as he could so that his knees were tucked under and his bottom tipped up. He was really small still, a small warm animal perched on her shoulder.  "I really did get pregnant on purpose," she told David. He seemed quite tolerant of the children but he had grown up with children about at the Haven. "I can't wait to have mine, he talks to me now, more often every day."

      "I'm told it was common in my family, both sides apparently."

      Claudia nodded. She had heard that in the families of hereditary witches a telepathic bond developed between mother and child prior to birth, full conversation was much more rare, though not unheard of.  "He's really sweet, isn't he?" Claudia asked Adelle.

      "Justin calls him turtle boy," Adelle laughed. He did seem like he was tucked in a shell but for his head which he could lift and look about now.

      "They'll be sad if the war is ever over. Alaric's going to be in Frankfurt am Main and we are returning to Poland. Maureen already tells me she misses Greta and the other children we used to travel with."

      "Once the war is over we can get a proper education net set up again, they can visit with each other by vidphone all they want."

      "Please, I was hoping to have at least that to myself for a few years. But they do want to get into everything."

      Alaric grunted and reached up toward Claudia. "He wants the baby," Adelle explained.

      "Mein, baby mein," Alaric said and reached.

      "You want to see him?" Claudia asked and bent at her knees. She brought the baby forward in both hands. "You know his name."

      "Mama and dada all the time but he doesn't call others by name. He adores Louisa especially, but never addresses her by name. Though big Alaric swears he says 'Lisa' when he wants her."

      "They learn," Claudia said.

      Alaric looked up at Claudia questioningly then put his cheek to Rozz's cheek and made a sound like awww. Claudia laughed and the boy questioned again with a gaze. "You saw other people do that, hmmn? You saw the adults do that with babies. You can say words when you give hugs. Like this," Claudia held Rozz up to her shoulder, "I love you, Rozz, Je t'aime, Rozz."

      Claudia held the tiny boy out to Alaric. He hugged the baby, put his hands on the little shoulders and leaned close to Rozz's face. "Lofe you," he said.

      "Say his name. Say 'Love you, Rozz.'"

      Alaric did another hug. "Rozz."

      "He said it!" Adelle said.

      "Was just his time to get it right," Claudia said.

      "Who is this holding the baby?" Adelle asked the boy. "Who is this?"

      Alaric smiled. Then he said "Famp."

      "Alaric," Adelle said in scolding tone.

      Claudia smiled at the boy. "It's OK. All right. You know. You are right. I changed didn't I? Vampyre, like that, Vampyre. And I am named Claudia. Claudia is a Vampyre now."

      "Famp!" Alaric shouted.

      David was in a fit of laughter over Claudia's shoulder. At least the boy knew what he saw. "What is Vampyre?" the baby inside asked. The sky rolled.

                      †               †               †

      "Claudy," John called to her. She was still out, eyes shut, motionless. "Claudia please!" he caressed her cheek, willed her to wake. He wished he could see into her mind and know what was wrong. "David."

      "Her pulse feels low...it was much more rapid before. We should put her in a bed."

      John nodded. "The trailer," he said. John lifted Claudia in both arms and walked toward the trailer. As they went, David took the lead, opened the door as Merideth appeared to ask if Claudia was well.

      "Seems to have fainted," David said, "She was holding Elzbieta's son when she fell back, but I caught him, he's fine, so is Alaric, still with Adelle."

      John kicked the folding section of the lower beds and it sprang up then down. He shoved at it again with his foot and it folded underneath the left of the now pair of beds. John laid Claudia there. "Claudy, C'mon, wake up."

      A shiver went through her and then her hands clutched her belly.

      "He's fine, David can hear his heartbeat," John said reassuringly. "Do you feel OK?"

      "I fainted?"

      "Yeah, just for a while."

      "Rozz!" Claudia cried and tried to sit up.

      John pressed her to the bed. "Rest. He's fine. David caught him I hear."

      "I remember now," Claudia said slowly, "Our baby said something to me, he just surprised me is all, I must have actually fainted..."

      "I suppose," John said. He saw Merideth from the corner of his eye.

      "I'm sure she's fine," Merideth said, "Perhaps she needs to eat?"

      "Let David do it, you need to stay strong," Claudia whispered.

      He wasn't pleased but John agreed, "Whatever you need to feel better."

      "Actually Martyr is here," Merideth called quietly to John. He went to the door.

      "I was just told Claudia was not well," Martyr said. "She said she was going to give me a gift, but I don't want to ask. I do have something for her, from all of us."

      "Oh, gift, I know what it was," John said. "Just come with me a minute." John went down from the trailer and motioned for Martyr to follow again. He took him to the trailer where Jeanette was making a few last trades as Gloria packed up.

      "You have Martyr's gifts?" John asked.

      Gloria smiled in Martyr's direction. "Right here." There was a bundle of plain white linen. Unwrapping the bundle Gloria revealed a tail coat of royal blue wool lined in white. She held the coat up for Martyr and then flipped it so he saw that across the back was a rampant lion and on the right sleeve three fleur-de-lis all embroidered in gold.

      "It's amazing," Martyr said.

      "Jeanette did most of the work. I made this." Gloria held forward in her palm a gold medal stamped with lion backed with red ribbon. "And Quentin gives you a sword. He didn't have time to make a proper one from scratch, but hopes you find this of good quality. Claudia helped him with the correct words for the inscription and Oak and I made the scabbard.

      "They are just magnificent, for a king, not a president."

      "But, begging pardon, Sir, these days Presidents and all manner of democratic heads of state must be like kings in order to inspire the people with courage and pride in difficult times. It is not even an entire outfit for a proper gentleman, but we had small amount of time."

      "I accept your gifts and thank all the artisGoth," Martyr said then made a bow.

      They went back to the other trailer where John saw a worn trunk sat on the ground. "Let me help you," John said. He pulled Martyr's other jacket from him gently and helped him fit the new one. Even with his custom of wearing long tapered or fitted pants and dress shoes the jacket looked right. John pinned the medal on his breast and then helped Martyr arrange his sword belt, this was polished to be royal blue like the jacket.

      John stood back and looked. A small boy with mop of brown hair but at the same time a wise gray-eyed prince prepared to appear before his people. "Ah, perfect, and soon you will have French designers working for you."

      Martyr giggled. "Oh, this is for Claudia. I don't wish to disturb her rest. Just tell her that Michael was the one who identified it among the rubble of the street she and her father had lived on. The house was completely destroyed. Michael says he was unable to find anything else but for a cabinet of her fathers papers which he keeps in his own house now."

      "What's in it?" John asked.

      "I don't know, Michael did not say whether it had been opened."

      "I'll make sure she gets it," John promised. "don't worry, it's probably just her trying to do so much while so pregnant." She seemed large for the amount of time gone by.

      "I'll take your word. Farewell, John. I will send messages when I can. And when your new delegation arrives I will see they are comfortable as possible. Good luck."

      "You too, good luck," John said. He bent down and hugged the smaller boy. Martyr kissed one cheek and then the other.

      "Au revoir," Martyr said as he stepped off the street. His soldiers appeared to escort him.

      John gave a last wave of his hand in farewell then lifted the trunk up into the trailer. Tired, mainly because it had been really heavy, John sat upon the trunk and thought perhaps the soldiers had been present only to carry the luggage for their boy-leader.

      Alaric was crouched between the beds watching over Claudia. "Justin's going to have someone knock when were ready to move. My family's already set up in the jeep."

      "Is she awake?"

      "Yes," Claudia answered for herself though in soft voice.

      John nodded, mainly to himself. "Martyr left a trunk for you, it's very heavy. He says Michael brought it from your old house...well Martyr says the house was destroyed, Claudy, but Michael knew this was yours."

      "The whole street was leveled, near enough to a railway, Day of Bombs. I knew that," Claudia said. She appeared in view as she got up from the bed and ducked under the upper loft bed. Alaric followed behind.

      Claudia looked down at the trunk. It was made of thin sheets of a metal bound in strips of brass and very worn and dented. "Odd this should survive. I think it may be those things from my childhood I packed away when we left for Alexandria."

      John nodded. The locking mechanism itself was dented and he didn't think it would open easily. "We'll have to pry it open, its busted," he said.

      "Let me," Claudia said. She knelt and looked over the top for a moment. She squinted at it and afterward reached to the back and lifted the top up, forcing the lock at the front to pop right off.

      "I forget sometimes you aren't Human," Alaric said. She had willed the hingepins out then forced the front to tilt apart. In any case the trunk was now open.

      Claudia sighed. The contents within seemed undamaged, many sealed airtight in plastic. "Mortimer," she said and lifted up a guady yellow plastic device attached to slim cable. John recognized it after a moment as an input device. "I really thought Father threw this away, I don't remember packing it...wait."

      "What is it?" John asked.

      "It isn't my trunk. I had one like this, but it must be Father's. These are my things, most of them, but which he kept. Look, baby photos, little gowns." Claudia lifted each bag carefully. "God, look at it, all my school reports, gifts I gave him which were too tacky for him to show he kept them."

      "You knew your father loved you, Claudy, it's just obvious how you speak of him."

      "I know, it's just really nice to see he was secretly sentimental. He wasn't cold, I don't mean that, only very proper, but he stored away all this junk."

      "Can't be junk then," Alaric laughed.

      John smiled.

      Claudia lifted a bag of papers then quickly pressed it toward John. "I don't want to look at that, but you can keep it, for our son." John looked through the transparent plastic. After briefly studying the visible documents he saw they gave the details of Claudia's adoption. Probably these papers could tell her who her biological parents were.

      "Yeah, I'll hide it away," John agreed.

      A knock came at the door but in the time it took to look they were gone. A moment later the trailer began to move.

      "I'll just go rest," Claudia said, "I'll clean up later." She took the ragged input device with her, clutching it to her chest.