Chapter 16: Meeting at the Blue Gazebo, Part 2

I know that Alysoun is bursting to run up to Tecna to discuss what it is she has found in her probes of Stormy, but, as protocol dictates, she stays put and waits.

"What is it you're seeing, Tecna?" asks Miss Faragonda.

"Alysoun's probes are definitely those of a human or humanoid not a Faerie," explains Tecna, "but the neural net augmentations belongs to a Faerie... specifically, a Faerie from my home world, Binos. I have such a net myself. It is what allows me to interface with many mechanical devices and to process digital data as well as regulating a number of my bodily functions. But I have always been lead to believe that this net is a device that would never bind itself to anything but a Faerie. Someone, somewhere has done a fantastic job of ironing out whatever kinks there were preventing it from binding to other species. I would like to meet whomever did this because she has performed a miracle!"

"This particular net seems to be regulating Stormy's Storm-Witch powers," chirps Alysoun who then goes into a brief account of how Stormy's body collects and then discharges electricity as a storm and how this process was to become a serious problem while she was in captivity that ended up reducing her to the state of the woman-child that she is today.

"That appears to be the correct assessment," replies Tecna, having in this short time acquired the knack to understanding Alysoun's particular flavour of Alfean Standard.

My gaze slides over to Flora, the empathic nature Faerie, who seems to be listening intently to the dialogue between Alysoun and Tecna and seemingly drawing up her notes on how this information relates to her fields of interest and expertise. It is she who specializes in botanical medicine and is said to have cured a Witch named Lucy of a nervous disorder that prevented her from keeping down food thus rendering her pale, weak, and scrawny. Shortly afterwards, a Witch named Prishayati, who is sometimes Alysoun's assistant, cures a Faerie of Fire Blight which left unchecked would have first devoured her wing membranes and then would have spread eventually killing her. Both acts have since been held up by Witches and Faeries alike as iconic examples of how Witches and Faeries should interact with each other. "Harm none and heal all without discrimination," as my mother would have expressed it.

The techno-babble is flying fast and thickly between Alysoun and Tecna – both engrossed in learning about each other's method of scanning. All this is far beyond my understanding of technology and is of no interest to me except for getting me the results I want. I direct my gaze once more to observing the others in the circle.

Bloom is standing in the circle almost directly in front of me dressed in the same sky-blue as I am. True to all the rumours that are circulating at Cloud Tower about her, she has grown to be a gorgeous young woman but a sad, young woman who has had her soul ripped from her and who has lost all desire and taste for life and living. "What has he done to you, Bloom?!" I'm thinking, sadly recalling the news of the break-up with Prince Sky of Eraklyon and his subsequent marriage to Princess Diaspro. "The guy's a fool for abandoning the most powerful Faerie in our universe and for hurting you so, Bloom," I'm raging inside, "either that or he hadn't the backbone to stand up to his parents and protest this arranged marriage which is solely for their political gain. He'll come to rue the day."

More than ever now, I want to become an older sister to Bloom. Ice and Fire can coexist despite popular belief. "We are the compliment of each other, Bloom, and now that I know the origin of your sliver of the Dragon Fire, I realize that we should be joined not separated and fighting each other. Bloom, you are going to get the best training I can give you for all the wit and energy I would have used against you, I now devote to helping you. I regret now the evil I have done you and that it took me so long to come to this realization. And I say that, after your training, you and I should pay a little surprise visit to Eraklyon and, as sisters, we should give Prince Charming over there a taste of Ice-and-Fire where it hurts and where he'll never forget it. Men! My opinion of them has not changed. They're good for only one, maybe two things but outside of that, they are useless and just underfoot. What woman needs that?!" I conclude.

Meanwhile, Stella and Musa are behaving like two buffoons – tittering and laughing behind their hands and making rude gestures and mouthing insults at me when they think the two matriarchs are not watching or cannot see. They are obviously relishing their moment of schadenfreude over Stormy's condition. Their antics may be getting past Miss Faragonda and Grizelda but not Layla, the dark-skinned Faerie who sometimes calls herself Aisha, who is standing next to them glaring at them with her teeth clenched and the flush of anger visible in her cheeks despite her dark hued skin. If she could leave her position in the circle, I am certain, she would be confronting Stella and Musa in a flash and knocking their heads together.

"Bíi ril ari umeloláad dohiťedal Stormi uť li wa," says Tecna to me while I'm still deep in thought.

"What?" I say then realize that my linguistic processes have drifted back to Witchspeak during my observations of the others. "I'll scan Stormy's brain now," she was saying to me in Alfean. "Tell Stormy that she has to stay absolutely still for about a minute as I do the scan," she tells me, which I translate into Witchspeak for Stormy's benefit even though she understands well what Tecna has said.

Tecna takes what looks like a magic Faerie wand and passes it above Stormy's head, then in back and in front, and, finally, on either side. "All done," she announces and then her palm computer boops and beeps as before and within a few seconds there is a three dimensional depiction of Stormy's brain hovering over Tecna's computer.

"Her brain looks to be normal," observes Alysoun, "except that the neural network seems to have sent its tendrils all through it. Does that mean that Stormy may now have cybernetic abilities as well as those of a Storm-Witch?"

"I would say she has them," replies Tecna, "but she will need training to be able to use them effectively. It will require an in-depth assessment to know what cybernetic skills she may now have."

I am laughing silently to myself over this revelation. "Here we have a Witch about to train a Faerie but we may now well have a Faerie about to train a Witch. Talk about cross-over and blurring the lines," I'm thinking but aloud I say, "It is a relief to know that Stormy's brain appears to be normal and I thank you for this service, Tecna. But whom exactly do we have before us? Stormy, Leffi or some other individual with only some of Stormy's memories and character traits?"

"I regret that I cannot tell you that," says Tecna with almost sadness in her voice.

There is a flash of movement in the circle as one of them puts up her hand for recognition and Miss Faragonda acknowledges Flora. "I'm confident that I can tell you that," says Flora in a soft voice reminiscent of ferns, peatmoss, colourful flowers springing from the ground, and cute tweeting birdies singing their little hearts out while perched on green flowering branches. "I made mind-to-mind contact with Stormy when I was trapped in one of her cyclone attacks and the image of her mind I still have. However, to do a proper assessment, I need to use my Enchantix powers and have direct physical contact with Stormy."

"Approach," I tell her.

Flora approaches and does a springing jump into the air and while there she spins around with a glowing light surrounding her. When she lands she is dressed in a mostly pink and blue outfit and has spread larger than life butterfly wings of mostly pink and soft green with soft green teardrops along the edge.

Stormy is staring at Flora in absolute, adoring awe and blurts, "Such a beautiful Faerie! I love your dress and your wings! I want wings like yours!" in perfectly enunciated High Alfean, using the appropriate polite pronominal forms and polite, medium honorifics.

"Why, thank you, Sweety," replies Flora surprised to be addressed and flattered in her own language. "You are very pretty and special yourself," she adds while in the circle Stella is mouthing, "Flora! Yuck!" and Musa is just staring at her friend as if she has developed multiple loose screws.

"Sweety," says Flora gently to Stormy, "I'm going to take a wee peek into your mind to find out who you really are. Now I have to put my hands on either side of your head and you may feel a bit strange like you are seeing things though different eyes. But don't be afraid and stay nice and still for me."

"All right," replies Stormy and readies herself. Flora places her hands on Stormy's head while I stand in back of her with my hands comfortingly on Stormy's shoulders. Flora goes into what seems to be a trance and for a long minute Stormy remains absolutely still. Then something spooks her and she pulls suddenly away. This catches Flora and me off-guard and we all fall to the ground in a jumble of arms, legs, bodies, and wings. Stormy is the first to untangle herself but as Flora and I sit up, our foreheads bang together with an audible "Crack!"

"Ouch!" we say in unison. "Oh?" says Flora, questioningly, and then, "Oh!" and then quickly gets up and heading to the others signals them to form a ring about her.

"This is highly irregular, Flora," says Miss Faragonda, but, although they are whispering, I can hear them clearly thanks to a few tricks I have picked up from Lupa. "What seems to be the problem?"

"I just want to tell you what I have discovered before telling those three," whispers Flora. "This is going to change things... perhaps profoundly so."

"Go on," says Miss Faragonda.

"The woman in mauve is definitely Stormy but there is something really strange about her. It is as Alysoun says: she has been reduced to a sweet woman-child who has nothing more on her mind than eating, sleeping and playing with her friends. All the evil that we once associated with Stormy is like gone! If we give her wings and sprinkle her with Faerie dust she could pass as one of us! But the other woman..."

"You mean 'Icy'," interrupts Stella.

"I don't think so," begins Flora.

"Oh, get real, Flora!" says Musa in a loud whisper and pointing her thumb in my direction. "That's Icy even if she has cut her hair short and is wearing different clothes."

"I beg to differ!" replies Flora hotly, becoming uncharacteristically agitated while Stella and Musa scowl at her.

"Stella! Musa! Manners you two," snaps Grizelda. "Continue, Flora."

Flora takes a deep breath as if trying to restore her inner peace and then, in measured words, she continues, "What I'm trying to tell you, Stella, Musa, and the rest of you is that, although in the flesh that is Icy, and a good part of her makeup is Witch... the dominate personality in that body is not Icy, as we once knew her, but a Faerie who calls herself Muta."