The others at the table appeared alarmed. Zifnab cringed.

"You must eat your vegetables, sir." The voice seemed to rise up from the floor. "Think of your colon!"

A scream and piteous wailing emanated from the kitchen.

"There's the maid. Hysterics again," said Paithan, tossing aside his lapcloth and rising to his feet. He intended to escape before his sister figured out what was going on. "I'll just go-"

"Who said that?" Calandra grabbed his arm.

"-have a look, if you'd let loose-"

"Don't get so worked up, Callie," said Aleatha languidly. "It's only thunder."

"My colon's none of your damn business!" The old man shouted down at the floor. "I can't abide vegetables-"

"If it was only thunder"-Calandra's voice was heavily ironic- "then the wretch is discussing his colon with his shoes. He's a lunatic. Paithan, throw him out."

Lenthan shot a pleading glance at his son. Paithan looked sidelong at Aleatha, who shrugged and shook her head. The young elf picked up his lapcloth and subsided back into his chair.

"He's not crazy, Cal. He's talking to ... uh ... his dragon. And we can't throw him out, because the dragon wouldn't take it at all well."

"His dragon." Calandra pursed her lips, her small eyes narrowed. The entire family, as well as the visiting astrologer, who was seated at the far end of the table, knew this expression, known privately to younger brother and sister as "pinch-face." Calandra could be terrible, when she was in this mood.

Paithan kept his gaze on his plate, gathering together a small mound of food with his fork and punching a hole in it. Aleatha stared at her own reflection in the polished surface of the porcelain teapot, tilting her head slightly, admiring the sunlight on her fair hair. Lenthan attempted to disappear by ducking his head behind a vase of flowers. The astrologer comforted himself with a third helping of tohahs.

"That beast that terrorized Lord Durndrun's?" Calandra's gaze swept the table. "Do you mean to tell me you've brought it here? To my house?" Ice from her tone seemed to rime her face with white, much as the magical ice rimed the frosted wineglasses.

Paithan nudged his younger sister beneath the table with his foot, caught her eye. "I'll be leaving this soon, back on the road," he muttered beneath his breath.

"Soon I'll be mistress of my own house," Aleatha returned softly.

"Stop that whispering, you two. We'll all be murdered in our beds," cried Calandra, her fury mounting. The warmer her anger, the colder her tone. "I hope then, Paithan, you'll be pleased with yourself! And you, Thea, I've overheard you talking this nonsense about getting married ..."

Calandra deliberately left the sentence unfinished.

No one moved, except the astrologer (shoveling buttered tohah into his mouth) and the old man. Apparently having no idea he was a bone of contention, he was calmly dismembering a baked chicken. No one spoke. They could hear, quite clearly, the musical chink of a mechanical petal "unfolding" the hour.

The silence grew uncomfortable. Paithan saw his father, hunched miserably in his chair, and thought again how feeble and gray he looked. Poor old man, he's got nothing else but his wacky delusions. Let him have 'em, after all. What harm is it? He decided to risk his sister's wrath.

"Uh, Zifnab, where did you say father was leading ... er ... his people?"

Calandra glared at him, but, as Paithan had hoped, his father perked up. "Yes, where?" Lenthan asked shyly, blushing.

The old man raised a chicken leg toward heaven.

'The roof?" Lenthan was somewhat confused.

The old man raised the chicken leg higher.

"Heaven? The stars?"

Zifnab nodded, momentarily unable to speak. Bits of chicken dribbled down his beard.

"My rockets! I knew it! Did you hear that, Elixnoir?" Lenthan turned to the elven astrologer, who had left off eating and was glowering at the human.

"My dear Lenthan, please consider this rationally. Your rockets are quite marvelous and we're making considerable progress in sending them above treetop level but to talk of them carrying people to the stars! Let me explain. Here is a model of our world according to the legends handed down to us by the ancients and confirmed by our own observations. Hand me that pricklepear. Now, this"-he held up the pricklepear-"is Pryan and this is our sun."

Elixnoir glanced about, momentarily at a loss for a sun.

"One sun," said Paithan, picking up a kumquat.

"Thank you," said the astrologer. "Would you mind-I'm running out of hands."

"Not at all." Paithan was enjoying himself hugely. He didn't dare look at Aleatha, or he knew he'd break out laughing. Acting on Elixnoir's instructions, he gravely positioned the kumquat a short distance from the pricklepear.

"Now this"-the astrologer lifted a sugar cube. Holding it a long distance from the kumquat, he began to rotate it around the prickiepear-"represents one of the stars. Just look at how far it is from our world! You can imagine what an enormous amount of distance you would have to travel ..."

"At least seven kumquats," murmured Paithan to his sister.

"He was quick enough to believe in Father when it meant a free meal," Aleatha returned coolly.

"Lenthan!" The astrologer looked severe, pointed at Zifnab. "This man is a humbug! I-"

"Who are you calling humbug?"

The dragon's voice shook the house. Wine sloshed from glasses, spilling over the lace tablecloth-Small, fragile items slid from end tables and tumbled to the floor. From the study came a thud, a bookcase toppling. Aleatha glanced out a window, saw a girl running, shrieking, from the kitchen.

"I don't believe you'll have to worry about the scullery maid any longer, Cal."

"This is intolerable." Calandra rose to her feet. The frost that rimed her nose had spread across her face, freezing the features and freezing the blood of those who saw her. Her thin, spare body seemed all sharp angles and every angle liable to hurt anyone who got near her. Lenthan cowered visibly. Paithan, lips twitching, concentrated on folding his lapcloth into a cocked hat. Aleatha sighed and drummed her nails on the table.

"Father," spoke Calandra in awful tones, "when dinner is concluded I want that old man and his ... his ..."

"Careful, Cal," suggested Paithan, not looking up. "You'll have the house down around our ears-"

"I want them out of my house!" Calandra's hands gripped the back of her chair, the knuckles white. Her body shook with the chill wind of her ire, the only chill wind that blew in the tropical land. "Old man!" Her voice rose shrilly. "Do you hear me?"

"Eh?" Zifnab glanced around. Seeing his hostess, he smiled al her benignly and shook his head. "No, thank you, my dear. Couldn't possibly eat another bite. What's for dessert?"

Paithan gave a half-giggle, smothered the other half in his lapcloth.

Calandra turned, and stormed from the room, her skirts crackling about her ankles.

"Now, Cal," Paithan called in conciliatory tones. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to laugh-"

A door slammed.

"Actually, you know, Lenthan, old fellow," said Zifnab, gesturing with the chicken leg, which he had picked clean, "we won't be using your rockets at all. No, they're not nearly big enough. We'll have a lot of people to transport, you see, and that'll take a large vessel. Very large." He tapped himself thoughtfully on the nose with the bone. "And, as what's-his-name with the collar says, it's a long way to the stars."

"If you will excuse me, Quindiniar," said the elven astrologer, rising to his feet, his eyes flashing fire. "I will be taking my leave, as well."

"-especially since it looks as if dessert's canceled," said Aleatha, her voice pitched so that the astrologer would be certain to hear. He did; his collar tips quivered, his nose achieved a seemingly impossible angle.

"But don't worry," continued Zifnab, placidly ignoring the commotion around him. "We'll have a ship-a big sucker. It'll land right smack-dab in the backyard and it'll have a man to fly ft. Young man. Owns a dog. Very quiet-not the dog, the man. Something funny about his hands, though. Always keeps them bandaged. That's the reason why we have to continue firing off the rockets, you see. Most important, your rockets."

"They are?" Lenthan was still confused.

"I'm leaving!" stated the astrologer.

"Promises, promises." Paithan sighed, sipped at his wine.

"Yes, of course, rockets are important. Otherwise how's he going to find us?" demanded the old man.

"He who?" inquired Paithan.

"The he who has the ship. Pay attention!" snapped Zifnab testily.

"Oh, that he who." Paithan leaned over to his sister. "He owns a dog," he said confidentially.

"You see, Lenthan-may I call you Lenthan?" inquired the old man politely. "You see, Lenthan, we need a big ship because your wife will want to see all the children again. Been a long time, you know. And they've grown so much."

"What?" Lenthan's eyes flared open, his cheeks paled. He clasped a trembling hand over his heart. "What did you say? My wife!"

"Blasphemy!" cried the astrologer.

The soft whir of the fans and the slight rustling of the feathery blades were the room's only sounds. Paithan had set his lapcloth on his plate and was staring down at it, frowning.

"For once I agree with that fool." Aleatha rose to her feet and glided over to stand behind her father's chair, her hands on his shoulders.

"Papa," she said, a tenderness in her voice that no one else in the family ever heard, "it's been a tiring day. Don't you think you should go to bed?"

"No, my dear. I'm not the least bit tired." Lenthan had not taken his eyes from the old man. "Please, sir, what did you say about my wife?"

Zifnab didn't appear to hear him. During the ensuing quiet, the old man's head had slumped forward, his bearded chin rested on his breast, his eyes dosed. He gave a muffled snore.

Lenthan reached out his hand. "Zifnab-"

"Papa, please!" Aleatha dosed her soft fingers over her father's blacked and bum-scarred hand. "Our guest is exhausted. Paithan, call for the servants to help the wizard to his room."

Brother and sister exchanged glances, both having the same idea. With any luck we can smuggle him out of the house tonight. Maybe feed him to his own dragon. Then, in the morning, when he's gone, we'll be able to convince Father that he was nothing but an insane old human.

"Sir ..." said Lenthan, shaking off his daughter's hand and catching hold of the old man's. "Zifnab!"

The old man jerked awake. "Who?" he demanded, glancing around bleary-eyed. "Where?"

"Papa!"

"Hush, my dear. Go run along and play, there's a good girl. Papa's busy, right now. Now, sir, you were talking about my wife-"

Aleatha looked pleadingly at Paithan. Her brother could only shrug. Biting her lip, fighting back tears, Aleatha gave her father's shoulder a gentle pat, then fled from the room. Once out of sight in the drawing room, she pressed her hand over her mouth, sobbing... .

... The child sat outside the door to her mother's bedchamber. The little girl was alone; she'd been alone for the last three days and she was growing more and more frightened. Paithan'd been sent away to stay with relatives.

"The boy is too rambunctious," Aleatha had heard someone say. "The house must be kept quiet." And so Paithan had gone.

Now there was no one for her to talk to, no one to pay any attention to her. She wanted her mother-the beautiful mother, who played with her and sang to her-but they wouldn't let her go inside her mother's room. Strange people filled the house-healers with their baskets of funny-smelling plants, astrologers who stood staring out the windows into the sky.

The house was quiet, so dreadfully quiet. The servants wept while they worked, wiping their eyes on the tips of their aprons. One of them, seeing Aleatha sitting in the hallway, said that someone should really be doing something about the child, but no one ever did.

Whenever the door to her mother's room opened, Aleatha jumped to her feet and hied to go inside, but whoever was coming out-generally a healer or his assistant-would shoo the girl back.

"But I want to see Mama!"

"Your mama is very sick. She must stay quiet. You don't want to worry her, do you?"

"I wouldn't worry her." Aleatha knew she wouldn't. She could be quiet. She'd been quiet for three days. Her mother must miss her terribly. Who was combing out Mama's lovely flaxen hair? That was Aleatha's special task, one she performed every morning. She was careful not to tug on the tangles, but unraveled them gently, using the tortoiseshell comb with the ivory rosebuds that had been Mama's wedding present.

But the door remained shut and always locked. Try as she might, Aleatha couldn't get inside.

And then one darktime the door opened, and it didn't shut again. Aleatha knew, now, she could go inside but now she was afraid.

"Papa?" She questioned the man standing in the door, not recognizing him.

Lenthan didn't look at her. He wasn't looking at anything. His eyes were dull, his cheeks sagged, his step faltered. Suddenly, with a violent sob, he crumpled to the floor, and lay still and unmoving. Healers, hurrying out the door, lifted him in their arms and carried him down the hall to his own bedchamber.

Aleatha pressed back against the wall.

"Mama!" she whimpered. "I want Mama!"

Callie stepped out into the hall. She was the first to notice the child.

"Mama's gone, Thea," Calandra said. She was pale, but composed. Her eyes were dry. "We're alone... ."

Alone. Alone. No, not again. Not ever. Aleatha glanced frantically around the empty room in which she was standing, hurried back into the dining room, but no one was there.

"Paithan!" she cried, running up the stairs. "Calandra!" Light from her sister's study streamed out beneath the door.

Aleatha made a dart for it. The door opened, and Paithan stepped out. His usually cheerful face was grim. Seeing Aleatha, he smiled ruefully.

"I ... I was looking for you, Pait." Aleatha felt calmer. She put her chilly hands to her burning cheeks to cool them, bring back the becoming pallor. "Bad time?"

"Yeah, pretty bad." Paithan smiled wanly.

"Come take a walk with me. Through the garden."

"Sorry, Thea. I've got to pack. Cal's sending me off tomorrow."

"Tomorrow!" Aleatha frowned, displeased. "But, you can't! Lord Durndrun's coming to talk to Papa and then there'll be the engagement parties and you simply have to be here-"