Note: Characters and world originally based J. K. Rowling's Harry Potter series. *This story is set in the indeterminate future. *Non-verbal communication is that in italics.

Note:The Family Khatabi: Zoe and Najia Khatabi, Bouchra Khatabi-Vrie. "Khatabi-Vrie' is a title for a respected Elder. The freed slaves: Carol, leader. Inge, Brigitta, Evita, the young girls. Tasha & Vince, (Valencio) Clarence & Bernice, Jimmy Rawlings, who'd been in Enclosure 3. Tiffany.

Chapter 26:

It appeared that he was mostly forgiven for putting the pendreiya on. Gloria still glared now and then, but most appeared to have put aside their resentment. He was beginning to know the quiet, shy ones, as well as the more outgoing ones. Emma, for instance, told him of some gymnastics equipment that they'd had for a while. "It was supposed to be a present to Margaret, from Hicham, who was her owner. But we think Nusa'pei disapproved, because we lost it when we were moved to new enclosures."

"Who was Nusa'pei?"

"He was the overseer before Abensur. Died suddenly. Not a duel, we heard. He just died."

"Was Margaret interested in gymnastics?"

"Margaret was in the American gymnastics team, and she was teaching a few people for a while. Vince worked at it, and wasn't bad at all, and Shirley was quite good as well. I tried, but was not much good, and when I hurt myself, I gave up."

A little later, Astra joined him, and told him at length about her family. A little brother, Kurt, two older sisters, Gretel and Aart, and her Mum and Dad. She gave detailed descriptions of each one of her family, and then told him about the birthday party of Kurt, a few days before she was taken.

And then she just sat for ten minutes, and finally said, "I was supposed to be meeting Mum and Dad last week. Dot took me to the place, and they didn't come. We waited three hours, and they didn't come. And then there was a letter yesterday. It said that it was better I make my own life. That it was good that I was free, but it was better that I make my own life. So I guess I will. They're not my family any more. The people here are my family, and this is my home, at least for now."

There was Belinda, who thanked him for sending the piano from the enclosures. "It was Brahim. He organised it for me. I couldn't have lived if I didn't have a way to make music. Brahim was gentle and nice, and I pretended I was in love with him, so it wouldn't be a rape."

Kaede. She was not like most of the older ones - quiet, but she projected a feeling of serenity. He had an errand in Bogridge, to ask if maybe some of the evening hobby courses would be run in the daytime, and as he saddled Madigan, she asked whether she could come as well.

He answered, "I was going into town - ten miles. How well do you ride?"

"I've been riding every day for over a year now. I can ride."

Not long later, Kaede was sitting easily on Nigretta as they cantered a now well worn bridle track that took them to the small town of Bogridge, shorter by the track than it was by road. Bellamy wondered, but Kaede scarcely spoke, just seeming content to be in his company. She was French Polynesian, brown skinned, and a beautiful woman, though with grey in her hair. He remarked, "She seems very well behaved."

"I think she went sweetly for Melanie from the start."

"I have someone to see..." said Bellamy.

Kaede said, "And I need to go to the bookshop."

"It's a very small town, will I just find you there?"

Kaede smiled. "I'll soon find you, if you don't find me."

"Does it have an ice-cream shop?"

Kaede's eyes twinkled in a way he'd never noticed before. "It has an ice-cream shop."

Bellamy grinned. He was a joke to his friends sometimes, that he still enjoyed ice-creams so much. He didn't know why it should surprise people. Surely if a child can enjoy an ice-cream, then so can an adult.

He went in search of 32 Mill Street, where the one who coordinated evening hobby courses lived. His errand was to ask if there was any chance that some of the evening hobby courses might also be run in the day. He was still not wearing his watches, and disliked the way that the woman's eyes were drawn to the white scars. But he ignored it as best he could, and discussed his errand. Any chance? And he had a list of numbers interested in certain courses. If a painting and drawing class were to be run, for instance, there would be fifteen wanting to attend. There were none interested in writing their own biography, or in belly dancing, but several wanted to do First Aid, and more wanted to do Chinese Cookery, also Carpentry.

Heather said, "Each of the tutors do it of their own volition and collect their own fees, but I'll contact them and see what's possible." She suddenly gave him a penetrating look. "Any other, possibly unusual courses, they might be interested in?"

Bellamy frowned thoughtfully, "Recent history in Western countries might be popular, but only if the tutor has the wit not to quiz them on their own history."

Heather had heard the rumoured history of the women of Loch Lomand, and again her eyes were drawn irresistibly to the scarred wrists of the man who sat in front of her. His face could have been scarred by anything, but she could think of only one thing that would make those distinctive wrist scars.

"How careful do we have to be of them?" she asked.

"Refrain from talking too much about babies and pregnancies, otherwise they're all just normal people, most highly intelligent."

"And all beautiful, my husband says."

"They range in age from sixteen to sixty, and yes, every single one of them is beautiful."

"And they can't have children."

Bellamy inclined his head. "They wanted it known so that no man would pursue them for marriage unless they were satisfied to be childless."

Heather leaned forward, "What exactly is their history?"

Bellamy said coolly, "It's not my story to tell, but as I understand, the rumours are not too far off."

"More coffee?"

Heather followed Bellamy out and watched as he went to his horse. Surely it was the first time that her gatepost had been used as a hitching rail. Outside the bookshop, the local policeman was thinking much the same, and wondering whether it was against Council regulations. Bellamy hitched Madigan next to Nigretta, and started talking to Clem McGregor, casually friendly. He reached up to pull the stirrups out of the way, and Clem's eyes went straight to the scarred wrists. This time, Bellamy fostered the reaction, casual actions that brought them into view.

"They're beautiful, aren't they," finally said Clem.

"Beautiful, but wounded somewhat," replied Bellamy. He caressed his left wrist, as if absent mindedly. "For instance, if ever any of them commit some minor misdemeanour, don't think of using handcuffs. They would probably go into a flat panic."

Kaede stopped in the shadow of the doorway, listening.

Clem asked, "Are they likely to come into conflict with the law?"

"They could easily overreact if some stupid man tried to grab a bottom or steal a kiss. Otherwise not."

"They're beautiful, aren't they?"

"Every single one of them is beautiful."

"All ages?"

"From sixteen to sixty."

"What exactly is their history?"

"It's not my story to tell, but as I understand, the rumours are not too far off."

"Can they really not have children?"

"I'm afraid not." Bellamy reached up to pat his horse, and again, Clem's eyes went to his scarred wrist.

There were hardly any of the medj now whom he hadn't come to know. None of them avoided him any longer, though Vince still never sought him out. At least, he no longer quietly faded away if he happened to be close.

**x**

Spell-breaking Friday morning, a brief check of correspondence at home, and Bellamy was back at Loch Lomand shortly after lunch, taking off his watches. The scars were even more prominent now, as the surrounding skin was sunburnt. He put them in his pocket, and picked up the pup again. The pup was for Vince.

He found him with a load of washing in the laundry, and said, "Vince?"

Vince turned and beamed, reaching out for the little black and white pup, and cuddling, as Bellamy watched, smiling. "You'll have to name her," he said. The puppy whined.

Vince shook his head, "No idea." He stroked, and the pup wet his arm, making him laugh and set her down. The pup sniffed around, and finished wetting on the floor. Vince said, "Toilet-training first, I think."

"Do you know how to go about it?"

"There's a book in the library. Tasha's had it out for weeks." He suddenly laughed, and asked, "Did you put it there?"

Bellamy grinned, "I delegated. Dot arranged it."

Vince glanced at his wrists, "I bet you wear your watches everywhere else!"

"Of course I do. Don't like embarrassing questions."

"How do you handle it when people ask awkward questions?"

"Unless they need to know, for some reason, I just change the subject. We all have things in our pasts we don't like to share."

"Reporters are not easily put off," observed Vince, picking up the puppy again.

"I have a very simple rule, no interviews, no autographs. I'm seldom pestered by reporters, and the bodyguards help, they don't let them near."

"Have the bodyguards ever saved your life?"

"A few times. One died once. I felt dreadful. Alexander, the father of Kupec, who nearly always looks after me, now."

"It seems strange, that you have bodyguards."

"I never asked for them, the DMT insists. It's mostly because no-one else can do the work I do. I'm valuable to them."

They strolled out, Vince with the aim of finding Tasha. Bellamy glanced back at the laundry, thinking that he'd obviously forgotten all about the clothes he'd been washing.

Bernice casually joined him later that day, as he fussed over the mares and foals. Revenge only bared her teeth at him now and then these days, and watched approvingly as he led her foal around the paddock. He told Bernice the story of Madigan and four mares going visiting, including Sherese and Reya. "A nearby pony stallion, called Bruno. It seems Madigan approves of him!"

Bernice said, "Gloria still hasn't named the others, but Reya's foal is now called Sonata."

"After the woman of the story, I guess."

"Will the foals be staying here?"

"Depends on who needs them when they're old enough to be ridden. Except that Revenge's foal is Gloria's, of course."

Bernice looked at his wrists, and smiled. "You're a little sunburnt."

"Those bits seldom see the sun." His face was a little red again. He didn't like displaying those embarrassing scars, but it was a small thing, and apparently important to the women.

Bernice said, "Connie and Mary are painting near the waterfall. You should go and look at their paintings."

Bellamy nodded, sensitive to the hint. Emma was there, too, and Emma, too, commented that he had sunburnt areas. The painters didn't seem to resent the interruption, though he told them that Clare never hesitated to tell anyone who bothered her, to go away and not be a pest. He grinned, "Potential buyer, the boss, whatever. She died a couple of years ago. You might even have heard of her, she painted as Clare de Silva."

Connie said, in a tone of discovery, "She's in the magazine I bought last week. It said she was a bit of a mystery, and no-one ever got to see where she worked."

Emma commented, "I wouldn't have thought it a thing that a witch might do."

"Some do, but anyway, Clare was medj, married to a wizard."

They took this in. They knew his wife had been medj, and he'd mentioned that his son Adrian's wife had been medj, too. And now he said that this artist who lived on his property was medj. Maybe Medjkind was not so different from Wizardkind.

Mary said, "Her paintings were beautiful."

"When she first came to my place as a young woman, they were fairly ordinary. She just kept getting better and better. She lived there most of her life, and there's an Art Gallery of her paintings, so I'll take you if you like, one by one."

Connie looked at Mary, and said, in a low voice, "Not today. Maybe in a little while."

So he admired the paintings in progress instead, and told them he'd send some art materials that had belonged to Clare, but they were to ask if more was needed.

Mary shook her head, firmly. "We get paid for what work we do, and we can save up and buy what we need."

Connie smiled, "An honour to use a brush that was used by Clare de Silva!"

"There are some easels, and canvases, I think, and I'm sure the Loch Lomand Trust can pay for art courses, or any other courses you want to do." He patted Dandy, the little pony now fat, and too lazy to wander far from wherever he was taken. Connie asked him to pass her something, and her eyes went to the wrist and her fingers happened to touch. He was still good luck, it seemed.

Saturday, Carol asked Bellamy to go with her to see a Catholic priest. "Just leave it to me, but make sure he notices your wrists."

Bellamy looked at the scars. They seemed brighter than ever. "Why?"

"One of us. She thinks she's going to hell because of what happened. And as some Catholic priests might even say the same, I want to see him and speak to him, make sure he's a reasonable man before I suggest she Confess and get Absolution."

Bellamy shook his head. Superstition, but when a child is thoroughly indoctrinated, it was very hard for them to see sense afterwards.

Carol added, "Here, at half past two, and I'll drive."

Bellamy glanced automatically at his right wrist, and then fished in his pocket for a watch.

Carol smiled. "I bet you never thought that those scars might help other people."

Bellamy stood, shaking his head. "Only here. Anywhere else, the watches go straight back on."

He was less shabby than usual when he presented himself at her office. He'd chosen to wear a white, short-sleeved shirt. He thought the white would draw attention to the white of his scars. Carol wanted them noticed. And when Carol sat down with the priest and told him a little of her concerns, Bellamy seemed to have a nervous habit, just a casual gesture with the right hand, brushing hair away from his eyes. Each time, the priest's eyes followed the movement, and then dropped to the other wrist, resting on the side of the chair.

Father Scolari appeared to be a reasonable man on the surface. He agreed that a woman would not go to hell, even though she'd spent years as a sex slave and was currently living with a man to whom she was not legally married. Judiciously, steepling his fingers, he said that living in a prison, without access to a priest, meant that it was not a mortal sin, but that the couple should regularise the situation as soon as possible.

Bellamy was prying. This man had best not hurt Bernice, or any other of his medj. There was someone listening, even now. His housekeeper, who was not just a housekeeper. He said to the priest, casually, "Don't press of course, if there are things that cannot be told, even when Confessing."

Father Scolari said stiffly, "The Confessional is a place for total honesty. There is never the slightest fear that confidences will be betrayed."

"Sometimes secrets are too dangerous, and an honourable person cannot tell what could cause deaths, even in the Confessional."

The man looked at him with hostility, and there was something else in his gaze - contempt?

Bellamy was puzzled. Just because he was linked to the women? He looked away casually, and continued to probe. The man didn't sense his intrusion. There were deep-seated prejudices. Morality, superstition, ethics. But he was a hypocrite. He lied to himself, judging others, and never looking at his own conduct.

As they left, Carol said, "You didn't handle that so well."

Bellamy gave his judgement, "He'll be all right with a woman, I think, but not Clarence or Vince. He thinks a man should die rather than be used like that."

"Ignorant man," said Carol, in a dispassionate tone.

Bellamy shrugged. "As long as he makes her feel better."

"Did you use any magic on him when you said not to press?"

"No magic, no hypnotic suggestions. Just relied on his own common sense." He paused, and then added, "A frail reed!"

Driving home, Carol said, "You're not religious yourself, at all?"

"So many of the major religions seemed to have started as a result of accidentally observed magic. Few wizards are at all religious."

"Do you know anything about Christianity, then?"

"I was dragged to church every Sunday by the ones who raised me, an Uncle and Aunt, who were medj. I have a fair idea of the basics."

"So, the miracle of the loaves and fishes for instance?"

Bellamy held a hand out to her, holding a bread roll. Carol laughed. "If you could do that, how come a fellow called Greenspan nearly starved you to death?"

He glanced at her, momentarily startled, and then said, "Jimmy, I presume. I couldn't do any magic at that time, and in any case, conjured food almost always tastes terrible and has no food value. Try it if you like."

Carol declined, laughing, and said, "The bible story said that the crowd was satisfied afterward."

"Maybe the wives had picnic baskets, maybe they lied - or maybe Jesus was a more powerful wizard than I am."

Gloria was spending a lot of time with Bellamy. She was contradictory. Sometimes, it seemed that she just wanted to pull his character to shreds, but other times she declared she needed him to ride fast with her. Bellamy understood that she was in pain, had no trouble keeping his temper when she abused him, and didn't mind riding with her. Occasionally she was witty and entertaining. She'd be good company, he suspected, once she'd exorcised her demons. Right now, she was unpredictable.

This time, after they galloped together, Bellamy asked casually, "Want to try Kennedy?"

Gloria stared, "Kennedy?"

"He doesn't think everyone's a potential enemy now. I think he'll be fine."

Gloria stared at the horse, who had his head up, ears pricked, hoping for some attention. She answered casually, "Why not?"

Bellamy said, "I'll leave it to you to saddle up. I'll be close, of course."

Gloria went to Kennedy, and said, "How about it? Can you put up with me?" Kennedy ignored her, still looking at Bellamy. But when Gloria mounted, he was quiet and obedient, and Gloria turned to the boss and gave a broad smile of achievement and pleasure.

Bellamy nodded, "Very good. If you're willing, you can ride him every day, and then after a while, some of the others can try."

Gloria said, "You've been jumping..."

"He jumps well. I suspect he may have done a bit at some stage."

A notice went up. Dot and Michael would be leaving at the end of June. It was already known that Bellamy would not be staying any more then, either, though he said he'd still call in. Carol was to take over as manager. Dot said to the boss, "I know she's nervous, but she's pretending not to be."

Bellamy answered confidently that he was sure she'd be fine. "She's a natural leader."

Dot assured herself, "All she has to do is make a phone call if she needs help, and I'll be coming in for a few hours twice a week, as well. If nothing needs doing, I'll just take out Cassidy for a ride, and anyone who wants to talk to me, can ride with me." Bellamy turned a questioning eye on her, and she nodded, "Just like you do."

Breakfast the following day, Carol asked Bellamy to join them that evening if he would. Gloria added, "We want to know as much as possible what happened when you defeated the Khatabi men."

Carol smiled, "We'll make a party and drink to their downfall."

Bellamy said, "Sounds a great idea, but I can't do it tonight. Any time in the day, or another evening."

Gloria said firmly, "It has to be evening and it has to be in the ballroom."

"Wednesday, then. I'm expected somewhere else tonight."

Gloria glared at him, abruptly furious with him. "Wednesday, since we're not important enough to make you change your date."

Bellamy smiled at her, "I like Rhoda, I promised I'd go to a wedding with her, and I don't expect to be back until morning."

Maliwan put a hand on the arm of her angry friend, and Gloria abruptly turned her back on him.

Carol said, "Thank you, John. Tomorrow night."

Michael remarked after they'd both gone, "She looked absolutely taken aback last night, when we said you were not available, probably with a girlfriend." He smiled ruefully, "She said we could join them too, if we wanted, so we wouldn't have to listen at the door!"

Bellamy grinned, "I knew you were listening."

Michael asked innocently, "How did you get the scars around your wrists, Boss?"

Bellamy laughed, and shook his head, "You don't need to know."

Dot said, "And the medj did?"

Bellamy shrugged, "Whatever helps."

On the appointed evening, Bellamy, Michael and Dot joined the medj in the ballroom, finding ample supplies of beer, other drinks, and party foods. "We're celebrating the downfall of the Khatabis," Carol said, "And we want to start with a detailed description of what happened."

Well, at least it wasn't as embarrassing as the last time, Bellamy thought. And he settled himself down with a beer and decided to skip any reference to Riza Khatabi's idea of using him as a stud. "We were in New York, spell-breaking, and they were having terrible problems with the Khatabis. They asked me to kill Yiko Khatabi, as they said he was the ringleader. But killing one wouldn't have made much difference. So as soon as I got the address, I went there, found five men in a room, paralysed and tied them up, and then gave them instructions, one by one - not to hurt any person or animal, and I told each of them that they had to go to a different place and stay there."

"Who did you tell?"

"Yiko, Ahjmed, Hicham, Adil, Narzu-Han, and two others in a second room, Iyad and Faheem. Seven men, then eight women in a different area of the house, except I told the women they could defend themselves if attacked, and that they should take their children."

"Those ones you say, especially Yiko and Ahjmed, they were very powerful, and Yiko and Narzu-Han - they had telepathy as well."

Bellamy nodded. "Yiko and Narzu-Han combined and came close to defeating me. I couldn't hold the paralysis of the others, so it was a good thing I tied them up to begin with."

Kaede said, "I saw Yiko hold over a hundred people under control once, and give specific instructions to myself and two others at the same time."

Carol said, "The Khatabi-Richi spoke of him with absolute awe. They said there was no-one else like him, and all the most powerful Khatabis bore his blood."

They stared at Bellamy as if they hadn't seen him before. Gloria said accusingly, "He was a hundred and twenty years old."

Bellamy sipped his beer, not quite knowing what to say. He hadn't foreseen this. They were looking at him in fear, some of them in anger, because he'd beaten Yiko. Maybe if he went on with his story. "Anyway, I left the women's quarters, and a couple of youths saw me and one slapped a paralysis spell on me. The interesting thing was that he hadn't needed to draw a wand. But anyway, I don't need a wand either, so I freed myself and made them forget. None of the others would know they'd been spoken to either. And then I disapparated out of there. That's all there was to it."

Helene spoke curiously, "How long did it take?"

"About an hour."

"About an hour."

"If they'd been in the other house with us, as they often were, would you have known?"

"I asked one if there were any other powerful Khatabi wizards in New York, and he said not. Pity I said wizards though, as otherwise he might have told me about Riza. I knew there was an old lady with Najia in the hotel, but she kept out of sight?"

"What did Najia have to do with it?" asked Carol, very curiously.

Bellamy swore to himself. She had too many brains, that woman, and he'd slipped. He said casually, "I think Riza might have been keeping a watch or something, and maybe Najia was looking after her as she was so old."

Michael chuckled, and found a very cold glance on him. Gloria's eyes darted to the pair of them, and she said, "What are you not telling us, John?"

Bellamy said smoothly, "I didn't tell you how worried I was before I entered the women's quarters. There were so many, all together, and the men came close to taking me down. If the women could combine like that, I might have been lost."

Most of them were successfully distracted, asking about the women. "We never saw any women, of course," said Tiffany. "They never practised with live subjects, except for the healers, sometimes."

Clarence said, "I can tell you who the youth was, who put you under the Paralysis Spell. It would have been Laki Khatabi. Valencio and I, we had to pretend to attack him, and he wasn't allowed to use his wand." He glanced at Vince and said, "They provoked Valencio into seriously attacking, and Laki, without using a wand, paralysed him. Haru was thrilled with the boy, and stopped Botan punishing. He couldn't do it again, though. They used me the next time, rushing him as if to attack, fists raised. But each time I stopped, and it seemed he couldn't do it if he didn't feel himself genuinely threatened. Haru looked at Valencio, but didn't give him another go. They never trusted Valencio."

"Laki wouldn't have been one of the bad ones, as he couldn't seem to master the Pain Curse. Probably in a few years."

Michael said, incredulous, "You said a youth, and they were trying to teach him the Spell of Pain?"

"He was about fourteen at that time. Salo was the same age. He mastered it straightaway. By sixteen, they all knew the Spell of Pain. It was basic."

Clarence asked, "At what age were you taught the Spell of Pain?"

Michael said briskly, "At no age. It's illegal. Using it, for whatever reason, is an automatic prison term."

Vince said, "There was Musaveni, as well. I had a feeling he might be planning to leave. Sometimes, the good ones did."

Lucy put in, "You might be right about him. I had him a few times, and he kept asking what I really thought. I was never quite brave enough to say."

Vince said, "I suspected he might have some telepathy."

Lucy hesitated, thinking, but then shook her head. "It didn't seem that way to me."

Bellamy asked curiously, "Any others that you know of, that might have left because they didn't approve of the family's actions?"

"One called Daryl, I think. Named after his sire, who was supposed to be an English wizard."

Bellamy said, "There's a Daryl works in research. Very bright, powerful. He's in his forties now, I wonder if he could be the father."

Vince said doubtfully, "Daryl was twelve when I met him, and that would have been about fifteen years ago. Khatabi-Richi. Your Daryl would have had to be an early starter!"

"Probably someone else then." But he was wondering. There were less than six thousand Anirage in Britain, and he'd been around a long time. He couldn't think of any other Daryl, and Daryl had shown his brilliance early. If so, he had a second Khatabi that was his descendant, as well as the baby of Helga Roos. A little ironic. Alison would have sent a gift to that new descendant, Henry Roos, the son of Hicham Khatabi. Time he made a trip to Sweden, have a look at the little boy.

He still sat relaxed in his chair, sipping his beer now and then, and his mind drifted to Najia. Poor kid, she'd been doing her best to seduce him, as she'd been ordered, but she'd been very nervous, as well. What if he'd succumbed? There might have been a son of his, learning to treat 'dirt-people' with contempt, learning the Pain Curse as a matter of routine, maybe learning to rape. Or a daughter, being forced to mate with someone chosen for her. Would Zoe and Najia send for him soon? His work here was nearly finished, he thought.

Bellamy grinned to himself. He seldom took much notice of the three monthly summaries of AOCWN business, but he'd caught the piece about marriage laws, moved by Bouchra Khatabi-Vrie, Pasquila-Kha of Morocco. That a marriage accepted as legal in a member country be accepted as legal in every other member country. Did they realise when they passed it, that in Morocco, a man could have up to four wives, and a woman up to four husbands? Would they send for him soon?

Suddenly restless, he stood, a little abruptly, asked Carol if she was finished with him, as he was going for a walk.

Michael and Dot regarded him dubiously, and Michael said, "You're not going to go looking for a fight, are you?"

Bellamy looked at him, surprised, and then suddenly laughed, "I haven't been in a fight for ages." Still grinning, he strode towards the exit. He needed his wallet. He was out for a bit of fun that night.

Bellamy had a few bruises afterward, but wanted to end the night with a girl. Could he afford just one visit to the Maison Rose-Marie? But he sighed. He really didn't like this business of not having enough money. Maybe once the Farfalla went on the market. It was too late to see Rhoda, and Kate had dismissed him in favour of someone who was looking for a wife.

He was just leaning against the wall, deciding what to do next. The gang wasn't far away, one of them kneeling by a felled comrade. None of them were at all seriously hurt. Bellamy guessed there was not much option. He might as well just go back to Loch Lomand. He strode off, finding a place where he was out of sight before apparating. The gang members sighed with relief that he was gone, and one said, "Next time someone grins at us and announces that his name is John," said one, "We don't attack him, we run!" There was fervent agreement, especially from the one just climbing dizzily to his feet.

Bellamy prowled around Loch Lomand, talking to a few of the cats and dogs that also roamed, as well as the horses. Revenge called to him, so that he went and made a fuss of her for a while, until she nipped his bottom as an indication that he could leave now. Poor Gloria. He didn't know if what had happened to her was worse than the others, or if it had just affected her more badly. As if his thought had called her up, she suddenly spoke from behind. "Will you go to bed with me?"

Bellamy spun around, but then hesitated, and said, "I don't think so. I think you might be like your horse - I'd think everything was fine, and then you'd flatten your ears and bite me as hard as you could." Gloria looked at him, incredulous, and then laughed, as she hadn't laughed for years.

They walked and talked for a long time then, in simple friendship. The difficulties of trying to provide the best horses for those who needed them, while not being unfair to the others. "The only easy ones are Mary, who loves Ruby, and Belinda, who loves Bluejoe."

"Are there still too few?"

"For the moment, maybe, but I think we'll start going our separate ways in the next few months." She smiled at him. "Will you miss us?"

"A little, but I'll have other things to do quite soon, I think."

"Like what?"

"Getting a bit more serious with my life."

"How do you mean?"

Bellamy paused - how to explain it. Finally, he said, "When I was young, there was a very powerful wizard who had the whole of British wizardry living in fear. He tried to kill me when I was just a baby, because there was a prophecy, that I was the only one who'd be able to defeat him. In my last year of school, I did defeat him. So it was finally over, but by then, there had been years of fretting about him. Never really free. So when it was over... " He grinned, remembering. "I announced to my classmates that I wasn't going to fight Dark Wizards any more. I was going to be a gigolo instead, because sex was much more fun than fighting."

She laughed, but he became serious. "The thing is, that maybe I wasn't precisely a gigolo, but I only ever fought the abuse of power when I came across it. I never went in search of it, always leaving it to the aurors. I've been given a lot of years, and when I was shown the Pamela Track, I realised that I should have used them less selfishly." He stopped, staring at the stars. "Clarence told me about 'Culls' of those in the enclosures. And there were others, so many others. And all I did was stay away from the worst wizarding cultures and not interfere. Four times, I've been blissfully happy with a wife, and I've had four families. But there'll be no family if Najia and Zoe decide to accept me, and I'll be helping Zoe reform the world, I suspect."

"Why will there be no family?"

"They announced to the Khatabis they were an evil family, that they'd sentenced them to extinction, and then they sterilised each other."

"We heard that. I'd forgotten."

He threw a glance at her. "No need to tell anyone that I'm hoping they'll marry me one day, as it's just a hope - they haven't said anything."

Gloria promised, "I won't say anything."

After a pause, she said, "It's three o'clock, and in the morning, I want to see if Kennedy will behave if we go for a long gallop together."

Bellamy nodded, whistled to Trey, and turned back toward the castle, walking with Gloria, but they went to their own, separate bedrooms.

***chapter end***