This is Neal again, in Neal's POV.

(I do have readers, right? 15 hits couldn't be mine..)

Disclaimer: I don't own Leviathan or Protector of the Small.

"Look," Neal said after a while. "I don't even really want to meet this 'Tazza' or whoever, I just want to go home. I don't even know where I am. I don't even know what an 'airship' is, I just want to go back home. I'll even get bitten by Peachblossom if that's what it takes."

Dylan wrung out of his hands. "I don't know who you are either, 'Mr. Newkirk,' but you are going to meet the barking boffin and her barking thylacine. And you are going to barking like it."

"You are just like Kel when you want to be," Neal muttered, running his fingers through his hair, but added in a louder voice, "She better not be anything like my knight mistress, that's for sure."

When I get back, she is going to have my head. I was supposed to meet her an hour ago. Neal thought sullenly as they walked through the halls. Why, poor Kel! Wasn't I supposed to get her monster of a horse ready for when she leaves with Raoul? She'll probably have my head too, which is a shame since I don't have two heads-

Neal was cut out of his reverie by Dylan. "'Mr. Newkirk?'" He asked and waved his hand in front of Neal's. "Blisters, what were you thinking about? You had this distant look in your eyes."

"I'm not Mr. Newkirk. I don't even know who he is." Neal growled as Dylan opened the door. "My name is Neal of Queenscove, as I've already established."

Dylan waved it off. "Just come on, the boffin wants to meet you. Or at least get you to walk Tazza." Dylan added under his breath as the door opened.

There was a woman with a bowler hat sitting on a chair, her dark hair pulled back and she seemed to be talking to a Scanran looking man. Dylan bowed a little and said, "Morning, Dr. Barlow, I have someone you should meet."

"It's just Mr. Newkirk," 'Dr. Barlow' said, glancing quick. "Mr. Newkirk, could you please walk Tazza? I'm afraid he has to go, but Mr. Sharp and I have to discuss something."

"Yes, it is very important. Relating to a certain prince, in fact." The Scanran man rubbed his chin. "So run along, Mr. Newkirk."

"How many times do I have to tell you people?" Neal said, exasperated. "I'm not Mr. Newkirk. I don't even know who he is! So, you might as damn well tell me where I am and why I'm not at the palace!"

Dr. Barlow looked at him, surprised. "Oh, and who are you?"

He threw up his arms. "I'm Neal of Queenscove, just some squire, but no one cares about that anymore, obviously. I bet I'm not even in the same time period. What is it, like 1000 BC or something?"

Dr. Barlow said quietly. "Neal, when were you born?"

"437 HE." Neal recited and glared at the man. "Don't look at me like that, Scanran. Last time I knew, I was coming to fight your people." That wasn't quite the truth, but what Scanra didn't know couldn't hurt them.

The man looked at him and said with a hint of anger under his voice, "I'm Austrian.