Sean eased the damp washcloth off his left eye for a moment and looked around the room.

Still underground.

His gaze fell on the woman sitting at the kitchen table with a girl and a lyrre, all three with tea, though the ladies had mugs and the enormous talking cat had a shallow bowl.

Still surreal.

He hissed and put the washcloth back over his eye.

Still with quite possibly the worst headache of my life.

On the upside, I apparently am allowed to tease a princess. And I finally found out who the woman of my dreams is… well… sort of.

Of course, considering the downside—underground, surreality, and headache—that's not much of an upside…

“Still hurts, Sean?” asked Suasa's voice, quieter than its usual strident tones—and how do I know what she usually sounds like, anyway?

“Yeah,” Sean whispered. “’S no worse, but… ’s no better either.”

“Mumile, can't I please try a brew?” Suasa's voice had turned wheedling. “I'll clean everything up and I won't use up the last of anything and I know it would make him feel better!”

The Lady Mirym sighed. “On those conditions, yes. You and Ander may make a headache brew. But do it quietly.”

Footsteps crossed the floor towards Sean. Then the couch on which he was lying dipped near his feet. “Try to sleep, jidele,” Mirym's voice said softly. “Suasa does tend to make a mess, but Litan hasn't apprenticed her for nothing. And Ander is his father's son.”

“Ma'am,” Sean said, suddenly determined to come clean, “I don't know what any of that means. Not really. I don't know who you are, apart from a few stories from my book, or—or anything, and I don't want you thinking I'm someone I'm not—”

“Hush,” Mirym chided, laying a hand on his forehead. “You had the plague last year, and it affected your mind. You will remember everything in time.”

“No!” Sean tried to sit up, then fell back, gasping at the fresh wave of pain. “You don't—I'm not—”

“Not?” Mirym prompted after a moment.

“I'm not who you think I am,” Sean said weakly, squeezing his eyes shut against a sudden traitorous wave of heat. Those few moments in the sun with Ander and Suasa, the joking and laughter, even the homecoming here to what he knew must be a trolyrro city, had pulled at his heart.

Friends. A family. The things I've never really had—I don't even know if I know how to have them…

“Then who are you?” Mirym asked gently. “Tell me of yourself. Everything you can.”

“Everything?” Sean took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. It seemed to ease a bit of the pain in his head, or maybe that was just the release of tension, now that he wasn't trying to pretend he belonged here anymore. “I was born in the city of Alth…”

“Indeed?” Mirym chuckled lightly. “How strange. But go on.”

Working through Sean's entire life took some time, though he was appalled by how easy it was to describe his years at the orphanage. They all seemed to have been the same.

“And then I found the red book,” Sean finished. “And read the first story, and started on the second, and then—I was in it. And you all seemed to think I belonged here, but I hadn't read anything about myself…”

“It's ready,” said Ander from nearby. “How's your head, somode?”

Sean groaned a little, jolted out of his storytelling trance. “Still hurts.”

“It won't after you drink this,” said Suasa's voice smugly. “Do it fast, though.”

Ander's hands closed around Sean's arms. “Let me help you sit up.”

“Thanks…” Sean gritted his teeth as Ander pulled him upright. The washcloth fell from his eyes, revealing Suasa with a small, steaming cup. Sean snatched it and drank it down.

Then he screamed.

“That—is—NASTY!” Sean yelled, shaking the cup in Suasa's face. “That is the VILEST stuff I've ever tasted! It's HORRIBLE!”

“But you don't have a headache anymore,” Ander pointed out. “Do you?”

Sean blinked. “…No. As a matter of fact, I don't.”

“Then it worked,” Suasa said happily. “And now you can have some dinner to take away the taste.”

“Yes. Please.” Sean slid off the couch and stood up, looking a bit askance at the ceiling, which came within a few sems of his head. “Dinner. Breakfast. Half-moldy bread crusts. Anything.”

“Dinner is in the oven, and will be finished in a few minutes,” Mirym said. “Though we do happen to have a few half-moldy bread crusts around, if you'd like…”

Ander and Suasa snickered. Sean groaned.

Dinner, when it arrived, proved to be a large variety of vegetables and cheeses mixed together and baked into a crust. Sean had two slices and part of a third before he found he couldn't finish.

“This is delicious,” he said. “I wish we had anything this good at—”

He stopped, but Ander and Suasa were already looking at him oddly.

“But this is just the kind of food you have out there,” Suasa said. “’Lena runs the kitchens, and you know where she learned.”

“Yes, but, well—” Sean grasped at the nearest straw. “It's the ambiance, really. The… coziness. Being closed in and safe. We don't have that much. Out there.”

Behind his back, he crossed his fingers that he had recalled correctly—that the home of the Guvabor, those who had no other homes, was on the open plains, in tents and lodges which were quick to move…

“True enough,” Ander said. “Not much security out there.” He smiled, looking around at the walls and low ceiling. “Give me a nice den any day.”

“It was good of your father to lend us his family's home,” Mirym said, shooting Sean a warning look.

“Well, it's not as if he's using it, and he is the last of us. Well, almost last, since silly sister and I came along…”

“Hey!” Suasa had her hands on her hips. “Your sister is not silly!”

“This newest idea she's got in her head is,” Ander shot back. “It is the oldest, most threadbare, most ridiculous plot in all the world—it's so stupid, stories using it don't work anymore—what's it going to do in real life?”

“Work,” said Suasa stubbornly. “Because Mumile says it will.”

“I say it may work,” Mirym corrected gently. “There's a difference.”

“It's still better than what he's saying.” Suasa crossed her arms and glared at Ander.

“Well, it won't!” Ander appealed to Sean. “Come on, t'Erin, help me out. You know what my sister's trying—will it work or won't it?”

“Uh.” Sean almost dropped his fork. “Um. Well. I'm… not sure. I suppose it could, if she does it just right… but there's a lot of room to foul up…”

Ander rolled his eyes. “Give me a break. There is no way it's going to work. Name me one time, one time outside stupid classical plays, that it has ever worked for more than ten seconds, even with vica to back it up…”

“I, uh, I don't—I mean, let me think—”

Sean thought, on the whole, he had never been so happy to feel the tilting, wobbling feeling that meant his world was about to fall over.

“Oh!” cried Suasa. “Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! O-”

Sean's hand shot out, of its own accord, and landed precisely on the snooze button on his alarm clock.

“This,” he said into his pillow, “is getting beyond weird.”

The pillow did not reply, which relieved him greatly.

“So there are two me's,” Sean said to the dirty laundry he was loading into a washing machine. “One lives here and does chores all day and dreams weird dreams at night. The other one lives out on the Untamed Plains and has a lyque for a friend. Not to mention a princess and a seer lady.”

He kicked the washing machine door shut. “And I bet he never has to do chores…”

A moment later, he recalled the section in the first story about life in the tent city. Everyone took chores in turn, and there were always plenty to go around. “Never mind.”

The day dragged, except for the few moments he could steal with the red book. There was still no mention of him, though the adventures of one Blaine Malvern and his group of escapees had him finding a closet in which to read.

I suppose I could be one of Kamin's friends. Actually, scratch that, I'm pretty sure I am. Suasa said something about us being friends since the day of Kamin's Escape. That would seem to mean I was one of the escapers…

Dinner was watery soup, a salad composed mostly of sweetspring lettuce, and thinly sliced anemic bread.

“I never thought I'd want to eat vegetables,” Sean muttered.

“What?” said a girl across from him, looking up.

“Nothing.”

Sean stared into his soup, moodily. I wish I knew what Ander and Suasa were talking about last time…

The hair lifted on the back of his neck. His throat felt light and his eyes widened.

His secret window was opening.

“I looked through my secret window and I saw dark. Lots and lots of dark. If you ever have trouble sleeping, try a trolyrro city. They're great that way.

“I listened through my secret window, then, and I heard whispering. Ander and Suasa were talking about me. I think Suasa was on the couch where I was lying with my headache, and Ander was on the floor, but I can't be sure. I couldn't see them.”

“Sean's acting weird lately,” Suasa said, squirming around on the couch until she found the perfect spot for her head against the arm. “Pretending he doesn't remember us, almost collapsing out on the Plains, and then suddenly after dinner he's perfectly normal again. And then he goes and gets all mysterious about it with that annoying little smile. Is that a seer thing?”

“No, I think that's an older sibling thing.” Ander yawned. “Lynn does the same thing when she knows something I don't know.”

“I hate people knowing things I don't know.” Suasa's scowl was audible. “I wish it didn't ever happen.”

“But then you'd know everything, Su, and that wouldn't be any fun.”

“Yes, it would. It would mean everyone had to ask me for the answers to all the questions in the world all the time.” Suasa's pompous tone was rather spoiled by the rising giggles. “That would be the most fun I've ever had.”

“This,” said Ander with an enormous sigh, “from the girl who says she would rather be the lowest maid in the palace than be queen.”

“I would! Maids get a half-day off every two weeks, and nobody watches them all the time to see if they're behaving the way they should! As long as they're polite and they do their work, nobody cares if they know how to dance or how to talk or how to eat with sticks. Why would anybody eat with sticks anyway?”

“It's a matter of showing respect for another culture, Su. Like coming underground to show respect for lyrro culture.”

“Yeah, well, you don't eat with sticks.”

“We don't eat with anything. Except our mouths.”

“Wouldn't it be hard to eat without them?”

A loud ‘oof’. “No… fair,” Suasa wheezed. “Tail…”

Ander chuckled. “Serves you right, Nuisance. Goodnight.”

“Hmph.”

“…see if he's responsive at all. Mr. t'Erin? Mr. t'Erin?”

“Uh?” Sean blinked and looked around. Most of the dining hall was staring at him, and the school nurse and two teachers were leaning over him, looking concerned.

“You weren't answering us,” the nurse said gently. “Are you feeling all right? Do you want to lie down?”

“I… think so. Yes.” Sean got up and walked out of the dining hall, letting one of the teachers lead him, voices washing over his head without really entering his ears. His mind was revolving around the inside of his head, touching briefly on ideas as it passed.

So I still existed there when I woke up here. And I was ‘normal’ again. I wonder what the normal me is like there? He seems pretty nice. At least, Ander and Suasa seem to like him. I wonder if he has any other friends…

He barely noticed being helped onto a cot, a blanket spread over him, the lights dimming.

I wonder if… maybe… no, that's silly, if he's me, or anything like me, it'd never happen… but it's a world of make-believe, so why not…

His eyes closed of their own volition, and he floated upwards into darkness.

I wonder if he's got a girlfriend…

A face of coral red nearly touching his, rimmed with the same violet as the worried eyes, and a soft voice in his ears. “Sean… Sean… how are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Sean said automatically.

Then his brain caught up with his mouth.

“Holy flipping—” He shot upright. The slender mazi bending over him ducked backwards just in time.

“Be careful!” she scolded, rustling her half-opened wings back into place. “You scared me!”

“Sorry,” Sean said, his mouth back on automatic as his eyes explored the creature before him.

Dear holy Theito… she's gorgeous…

“You had better be,” said the mazi primly, folding her violet-and-red arms over the white cloth swathing her torso. “And what are you staring at? It's not as if you've never seen me before.”

“Er,” said Sean, dragging his eyes away from her. Her scales don't look hard at all, not like I thought they'd be—they almost look like feathers, this close up. I wonder what they feel like…

He hauled his brain back from that line of thought forcibly. “Actually, I'm not feeling my best today. My mind's not completely there. I've even forgotten your name…”

“Well, I'd say your mind's not completely there, if you've even forgotten…” The mazi paused. “Oh. Oh. I understand, my… Sean. My name is Anni. We are good friends, you and I, and looking to see if we can be more.”

“Oh,” Sean repeated.

“A most expressive monosyllable indeed,” Anni teased, her wings spreading slightly. “I will go see if Lady Mirym needs help with breakfast.”

“You do that.” Sean watched her go. “Be careful what you wish for,” he muttered to himself.

“What was that?” Anni said, pausing halfway out the door.

“Nothing, nothing…”

Sean stared into the mug of hot liquid in front of him without really seeing it.

This is ridiculous. I have a life of my own. A perfectly good life…

He wished he could believe it.

Mirym, on the other side of the table, looked up. “Ander, would you and Suasa please go out to the market for me?” she said. “The list is over on the chiller. There's no need to hurry.”

“Yes, ma'am,” said Ander cheerfully. “Come on, Su, if we hurry we can get there before the best stuff's gone.”

“Anni, you coming?” Suasa asked, peeling the list off the door of the chiller.

“No, I think I'll stay here,” said Anni, leaning back against a chair with a narrow back—Sean had wondered about it the day before, and now saw that it was carved to accomodate a mazo's wings. “I always get a little nervous walking around down here.”

“All right. See you when we're back!” Suasa darted out the door, Ander behind her. Silence settled on the kitchen.

“I hardly have a life at all,” Sean said aloud. “I go where people tell me to go and do what they tell me to do. I glide in school, I don't pay attention to any of the apprenticeship seminars, I've never found anything that looks like I'd really be interested in it…”

“Does that mean it doesn't exist?” Anni asked. “Or just that you haven't found it yet?”

“Second one, I guess. But it feels like the first.” Sean sighed deeply. “I'd settle for a job that just paid the bills if I could have the rest of it.”

“The rest of it?” said Mirym, sipping her own tea.

“You know. People.” Sean waved an awkward hand at the three of them. “People like you. Like Ander and Su. Like Kamin and Shelena, if I know them… I hate having this life, or being supposed to have it, or sort of having it, you know that? I really hate it. You hear that?” He looked up at the ceiling. “You hear me? I either want this all the way, or I don't want it at all!”

“Sean!” Anni gasped.

“Oh, dear,” said Mirym with a sigh as the colors of the room ran together in front of Sean's eyes.

“Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear…”

“What's ’oh dear'ing you now, Martha?”

“Oh, nothing much. Just t'Erin again… he's wearing himself out somehow. I've only ever seen exhaustion like this in students trying to study for tests in classes they've shirked all year, and t'Erin doesn't do that.”

“Staying up late to read, perhaps. He's had a book out of the library for several days now.”

“No, just reading wouldn't do this. It'd have to be mental activity, and physical too, to get him to this level. Poor boy… maybe he's fretting about something…”

“Well, forgive me for some callousness, but good. t'Erin never seems to worry about much—he never thinks about much beyond what he's got in that head of his. If he's ever going to amount to anything, he's going to need to wake up and pay attention to the real world.”

“But truthfully, Louisa, is the real world likely to be kind to him? He's so young still… only eighteen, seven years from adulthood, even if he apprentices…”

“When was the last time the real world was kind to anyone? The sooner he learns that, the better. I've often thought we baby them a bit too long here… not in terms of being soft on them physically, but we coax them along too much, don't force them to make choices the way we should…”

Retreating footsteps and the sound of a closing door.

Sean slumped under the blanket, then rolled over and curled up, putting his arms around his knees.

Just once, I'd like to be able to say something and not have it come back to bite me. Just once… is that too much to ask?