Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling. In this story, Harry Potter is very old, and is known as 'The Great Wizard.' His name is Bellamy.

Chapter 28:

Two days after his return, Valencio put on the yellow vest, and went to have breakfast with the guests, though Tasha ate with the other residents. It was a Saturday, and there were forty guests, most couples, a few singles, including Feena who'd taken advantage of a last minute cancellation. But Feena was in a unit as usual, taking care to keep out of the way of Vince, whom the boss had been fretting about.

"I just want to know he's alright, Feena," he'd said.

Feena had said, sensibly, "He was fine at Christmas, no reason to think he's not fine now."

"Well, anyway, you enjoy your times there. So it's giving you a break, as well."

Feena agreed. She just thought it a bit pointless, when there were far more important concerns than the welfare of a single man, and not even Anirage!

Both Clarence and Kaede were acting as hosts, and Kaede went from table to table, giving details of events they might like to attend. "Entirely up to yourselves, of course. You can just read books and watch movies, or you can paint with Emma or Connie, have a gentle ride with Mary, or a faster one with Gloria. Some men like to work with Vince, enjoying physical work for a change, and he'll tell you what he's doing each day."

Valencio shook his head. "No-one will want to help me these next few days - I'm cleaning out the horse shelters, shovelling manure that is, though I'll be using the tractor a bit now and then."

Kaede went on, "Things of interest - we have a professional model giving lessons, several of our club members are doing that, and anyone who wants, can join in. Also, next Saturday, there's a small gymkhana at Leeton, which is about a forty minute drive away. Riders can talk to Gloria about entering, if they want, and even inexperienced riders can enter either in the pairs classes or the Fancy Dress, and we have costumes for your use if you want that."

She paused, What else? "Jimmy has a bus service, every weekday, Loch Lomand, Glen Kay, Bogridge and Duich, schedule on the notice board, and there's an old-time dance in Bogridge tonight. Anyone who wants can put their name on the list on the notice board, and someone will drive you there and home."

A woman asked, "What's the Pairs Class?"

"It's a show class, and the horses and riders have to look as similar as possible. One of us rides one of the horses, and a visitor rides the other. That makes it easy, especially as the horses are trained for it. Any prizes, you keep."

"Those spotted ponies, they're so pretty."

Kaede smiled. "They are pretty. They're called Bindi & Calliope, and have only come recently. They've won a lot of prizes I'm told, in the pairs, as well as individually."

Valencio asked, "John's?"

Kaede confirmed, "John's, about seven years old, Gloria told me. Same sire, and their dams were half-sisters and Andalusians. One of them is a half sister of Reya, as well, but I can't remember which one."

She rose, "Vince will tell you more about it if you're interested, and you put your name down for Gloria, who'll arrange practice."

The woman turned to Vince, and he answered her questions. They always went to gymkhanas now, as long as they were reasonably close.

Another woman said, "I used to compete when I was younger - show jumping, but we moved to the city."

Vince replied, "You'd have to demonstrate to Gloria how well you can ride, but if she thinks you're good enough, she'll let you have Storm maybe, who's very experienced. There's others, as well. Or you can enter the showing, or best rider competitions. There's Reya, pure Andalusian, and she's collected a few ribbons."

The visitors could enter the jumping or the fast gymkhana events if they wanted, but Carol said they should preferably be encouraged to events less likely to end in broken bones.

"Do you ride, Vince?"

"I've never bothered with gymkhanas. Except for a fancy dress, once." The talk moved on to Fancy Dress then, and Valencio was able to talk about the Mongol Hordes costumes, "Best if there's nine men - looks great then. But no more than nine, as we run out of shaggy ponies."

"Costumes for women?"

"I think there's a few Spanish senorita costumes in different sizes, Arab costumes, a clown costume - I can't remember what else."

There had been a few developments in the months that Valencio had been away. It appeared the permanent residents were now members of a 'club,' details never specified. Jimmy had his regular bus run, and Helene was planning to start a model agency, specialising in older models. Even Belinda was taking lessons in catwalk modelling, perfectly happy to be organised into earning some money for herself.

Valencio was whistling later that day as he shovelled manure onto a wheelbarrow, and wheeled load after load to a small trailer pulled by the tractor, his favourite toy after his truck. He was filthy, and far away from Hollywood where Jean-Pierre was working very hard under the direction of Schuster. There had been a change, though Valencio didn't know yet. Pandragon was no longer to die by the hand of the psychologist, but instead was to face the harrowing fact that he was unable to live without hurting those around him.

Bluey's shelter was finally reasonably clean, and Valencio wiped a dirty hand over dirty face, pulled himself to the seat of the tractor, and drove it to the gate, finding it opened for him by one of the visitors, who'd been admiring the horses here, Madigan, Kennedy, Revenge and Emanuelle, plus four young horses. He stretched afterwards, a little painfully. He was out of the way of heavy work. Maybe he'd best just do one shelter a day. Maybe he'd ride to Bogridge, and see if any of his mates were at the pub. He smiled to himself. Freedom was so good.

After a quick shower, he saddled Caesar, who danced and snorted at him. Other riders seemed to think he should just canter. While reasonably obedient, he liked Valencio best.

One of the guests pointed Valencio out to Feena, as he galloped headlong down the drive. "That's Vince. My husband said he was filthy earlier, covered with manure, and whistling."

"I heard he was a character, that he nearly always has a few visitors tagging along."

"I think he might have been away, as today's the first time he's joined us at breakfast."

"Away?"

"Someone told me he was in Edinburgh, where he has friends."

Caesar sensibly slowed down as soon as they started on the bridle track to Bogridge, knowing it too far to gallop. Valencio rode relaxed in the saddle, letting the horse dictate the pace. He was looking forward to seeing Roddy and Erin, who were nearly always there on a Saturday afternoon, and probably others he knew as well. For the first time, he wondered how they'd react to Vince McDonald, actor. He shrugged. They knew he'd done a few commercials, and hadn't turned a hair at that. Luckily, the handyman ad hadn't been shown locally, and he didn't think that fourth one had been shown at all.

Valencio spent the afternoon at the pub, happily talking to friends, two of whom escorted him back to his horse when they noticed him swaying and beginning to slur his words. But he insisted he was fine, and appeared to quite competently saddle Caesar, and mount.

Caesar snorted in disapproval, and walked gingerly to the start of the bridle track as Valencio started to sing. Life was wonderful. He was in the middle of a movie which was going to be great. There were scenes ahead that would challenge all his ability. And he was home, with the women he loved. For the moment, he wasn't differentiating. He loved Tasha, but also Gloria and Emma and Helene, and Farfalla... Valencio Durano sang, as Caesar twitched his ears and walked smoothly towards home.

Valencio hadn't really had an enormous amount to drink, just that he rarely drank much, and felt its effects quite quickly. After an hour, he noticed that it would soon be dark, and suggested a canter. He hugged the horse when he arrived home - he loved Caesar, too, and all the other horses, even Emanuelle, plain and spiteful. As soon as he'd settled Caesar, he went and made a fuss of her, giving her a thorough brushing as she stood relaxed, one hip down and hoof resting, tip on the ground. She'd have her foal in a couple of months, thought to be by a stallion near Glen Kay. A Fell Pony, the same as all their black ponies. Emanuelle whickered at him, and he hugged her, his eyes suddenly wet. She was beautiful.

Bernice rebuked Valencio when he turned up late for dinner. "And you smell of horses,' she added.

Valencio grinned at her, and said, "Lucky I had a shower after finishing Bluey's paddock - I smelled worse then!"

Bernice smiled, but told him to hurry up, as they were waiting to clean up. Valencio hurried, helping himself quickly from the dishes available, and taking a seat next to the girls, who'd also been late for dinner.

Inge said, "Evita and I went to a movie in Duich. Paul's eighteen, and he borrowed his Dad's car."

"What did you see?"

"Blue Fiesta, starring Ben Bgorn."

"Good?"

"Very good. Ben Bgorn's dreamy!"

"He agrees with you. He thinks he's dreamy, as well."

"You know Ben Bgorn?" Evita said, scarcely believing.

"Not very well, but he's around, working on a movie called The Centurion. He takes every opportunity of wandering around in a brief tunic, hoping that we're all admiring his oh so muscular legs!"

Evita looked thoughtful. It was a different viewpoint, and of course, it was terribly childish to admire an image on a screen.

Inge remarked, "I can't wait to see your movie."

Valencio gave her a sheepish grin, "Sorry, not until you're eighteen. It's to have an adults only rating."

The girls all laughed at that. After what they'd been, they were still deemed too young to see an adults only movie.

Inge said, "In Movie World, there was a bit about it. There was a profile, but just a silhouette, and that was you, but overlaid with the face of the hero, and the female lead on the other side. Referred to Son of Satan as an amazing new talent, and didn't even give your name."

"I refused permission to be used for publicity, so they decided to bill me as a mystery man. Means people eagerly anticipating, they hope."

He was suddenly embarrassed, and said, "Anyway, it's just a very ordinary movie, and there's a lot better things to do in life than watch movies." His face was hot, as he thought of his friends and companions watching him parade naked. But then he shook his head. Maybe not the young ones, but the older ones had seen him naked, had seen him strapped to a chair merely to have a haircut, hobbled, and that horrible time when he'd been returned with blood stains all down his thighs. Just acting was nothing.

He sighed, and smiled again, admitting, "It's turning into a good movie." Silly being embarrassed with his own people.

Tasha scraped her plate, and joined them.

Evita asked her, "Do you know Ben Bgorn as well, Tasha?"

"I've seen him around. Vince hasn't hit him yet." The girls stared at her in blank surprise, and Tasha explained, "He fancies Vince, but Jean-Pierre gave him a hint, maybe told him that Vince has hard fists, and he's stayed away since then."

Evita said, "Oh." Of course it was childish to admire an image on a screen, and now it seemed he admired men, not women.

Inge asked, "Really?"

Tasha nodded. "There's a lot like that there, so now Schuster makes sure that Vince always has someone with him, so he's not provoked into hitting someone else."

"Who did you hit, Vince?"

"Fat fellow. I can't remember his name. He grabbed my bottom, so I flattened him."

The girls laughed, and Vince grinned, "I didn't get into trouble, but I'm not allowed to get a broken nose or even a black eye until the movie's finished. So the director has given orders, I think."

"Jean-Pierre, is that Jean-Pierre Dequienne?"

"Of course. I thought you knew I was working with him."

"It's just so hard to believe."

Inge asked, "Are you and Tasha going to the dance?"

Valencio said no, and Inge said, "We are. Jimmy's taking the big bus, and picking up Paul on the way. Nearly half of the guests are coming, as well."

Tasha said, "Carol asked if you and I would go, too, Vince. Mostly so you could dance with the female guests, but we can take our own car and leave early."

Valencio replied, "For a start, I can't dance, and for a second thing, if I ask one to dance, she'll think it means more. And then her feelings will be hurt as well as her toes! Much better if I keep away from the female guests."

Tasha nodded, "Maybe you're right."

"Have any of the male guests made advances?"

"Occasionally, but subtle enough that the question is asked and answered without anything as blatant as words or a touch."

Emma said, "Three months in winter when there's just us. That's a relief. I think nearly all of us have had to put up with over-friendly male guests now and then."

"We could always stop having guests..."

Emma shook her head, decidedly. "I want to stay here, live here, and this way we're not a burden on anyone. I don't think anyone wants to stop the guests. And it means the ones who want to set up in business don't have to worry about start-up money, as Carol is putting money away now, all the time."

Inge said, "Anyway, she's equipped all of us with alarms, as well as mobile phones, so we can call for help, perfectly easily."

"She told me she wants twelve of us working here full-time, the minimum required to do the work. And not counting students, and the ones with outside jobs, there's only eighteen left now."

Valencio and Tasha watched a movie after dinner, with a few guests and several residents. Afterwards, they went on to the ballroom, still their own, and it developed into a party. Tasha and Valencio told a few stories of Hollywood life. Inge seemed to have an encyclopaedic knowledge of movies in progress, including some just casting. She commented, "Nikole Kristos is starting her next one, but I thought she was in yours."

Valencio grinned, "My character, unfortunately, accidentally killed her."

"How?"

Valencio blushed and said, "We're not supposed to divulge the plot."

Tasha changed the subject, "The crew are very friendly, and Monica let me watch some preliminary editing one day."

"Do you watch the editing, Vince?"

"Not very often. The director thinks it compromises the acting. He lets Jean-Pierre, though."

"What are you doing next, do you know yet?"

"Coming home and staying home! It's a sick environment."

Tasha said, "It's not that bad, and you know you've not been subject to any serious harassment."

Inge said, "I thought you liked acting, Vince."

"I do. But Edinburgh makes movies too. And London. Maybe they're better than Hollywood."

"You know all the biggest movies are made in Hollywood. To be a real film star, you have to work there."

Valencio frowned at her, "Maybe it's not important to be a real film star. There's a lot of satisfaction to be had right here."

Inge looked at Tasha, and Tasha winked. Schuster had asked her whether Vince might like to be a romantic action hero, the film equivalent of the romance books a few of the women still enjoyed. There was sword play, and Tasha had told him that Vince used to play with a cutlass, that he was very good...

Valencio looked at her uneasily, and went for more beers for them all. Belinda started playing, and the conversation was to the background of the gentle music of the gentle girl.

Valencio cheered up again after a while, but was still drinking.

The following morning, Kaede was host again at the guests' breakfast. One of the women asked, "Is Vince joining us today?"

Kaede answered, "He meant to, but he hasn't shown himself yet."

One of the men commented, "Hungover, probably! We came home late from the dance, and saw him swaying past the guest units and singing very loudly."

Kaede was surprised, "Drunk?"

"Certainly looked it!"

"That's only the second time I know of, then. He's generally very moderate in his drinking."

But at that moment, they heard a whistling, though it stopped before Valencio entered, looking perfectly bright and cheerful, and wearing his yellow vest. He said casually to Didi, presiding over the breakfast bar, "Sorry I'm late," and started helping himself to a generous breakfast.

Kaede asked, as he joined them, "What kept you?"

"Carol. I've been soundly rebuked for being far too noisy last night, when people were sleeping."

Cherie asked, "Were you really drunk?"

Valencio answered cheerfully, "Drunk as a skunk. But I promised Carol I won't do it again, and I have to abjectly apologise to anyone I woke up."

A young woman said, "You woke me up. I'd like you on bended knees and abjectly apologising, please."

Valencio raised an eyebrow, "Your bedroom's in the castle, Vicki. I wouldn't have woken you up."

Vicki said firmly, "You woke me up."

Valencio sighed, rose from his chair, knelt before Vicki, looked at her piteously, eyes open and tearful, and said, "I'm so terribly, terribly sorry, and I promise never, ever, to do it again." He extended a shaking hand and pleaded, "My life depends on your forgiveness!"

Vicki was giggling too much to reply, but Kaede said, "She forgives you. Have your breakfast!"

Valencio grinned and sat back in his chair.

Cherie said, "It's teeming rain. We can't practise with the horses."

"What are you planning on entering?"

"I want to jump, but in the class where the jumps are low. Gloria watched me yesterday, and if I want, I can ride Storm."

Vicki said, "And I'm allowed to ride the palomino in the showing, and Ken's going in the Fancy Dress."

Ken supplemented, "Several of us are going to be Mongol Hordes, and we've got three Arabs, one Red Indian, and a Lady Godiva."

Valencio asked, "Lady Godiva?"

"You know, Vince, the lady who rides naked in order to save the poor or some such thing."

"I don't know the story, but it sounds very interesting." He grinned. "Make Leeton sit up a bit!"

One of the men said regretfully, "It's not as good as it sounds. It's a standard fancy dress, and they always wear a body stocking, as well as having long blonde hair covering up all the interesting bits."

"Who's doing it?"

"Kerry, I think her name is. Sitting at the other table. She's to ride the Andalusian."

Ken asked, "What are you planning to do today, Vince, since you can't work outside?"

Valencio said optimistically, "It might clear up. And anyway, I'm working under shelter. Doing the White Paddock today, and the horses can go in with the others for a bit."

"What horses are in the White Paddock?"

"Just a few that are owned by individuals and not available for general use." He added, "Gloria plans a long, fast ride this afternoon, rain or shine. But you need to be a good rider to go with Gloria."

"Are you a good rider?"

Valencio scratched his head, "I like to go fast, and hardly ever fall off, but I don't know things like making a horse canter on the right leg, or even which is the right leg."

One of the men said, "Well, this morning, there's painting in the studio, a modelling class, a film on, and Carol says she's asking Belinda to play for a while in No. 3 sitting room. And I don't fancy any of those. Want a hand shovelling muck?"

Valencio laughed, "If you're silly enough! But we're going to stink to high heaven!"

Another said, "Me, too. For a while, anyway."

"The White Paddock then, in a half hour, and I'll bring extra shovels and wheelbarrows."

"The tractor?"

"Of course. I never miss an opportunity to use the tractor! It's my second best toy!" His best toy was still his truck, which needed repair again, once the more urgent jobs were done.

Feena's March report to Narzu-Han. "He's obviously an attractive personality. He had guests volunteering to get themselves filthy and tired helping him clean a horse shelter. And they claimed to have enjoyed it!"

"Is he happy?"

"He whistles and sings, and radiates contentment. He became drunk once, but only sang very loudly, didn't get aggressive or anything. He helped at a horse show, and consented to have his photo taken with an arm around one of the guests who'd taken a second in a show jumping event. He's happy and settled, and I really think that every two months is quite sufficient to check on him."

Narzu-Han might have been the head of wizardry in Turkey, but his staff were not as slavishly obedient as the Khatabi-Richi had been. He replied, resigned, "Alright, Feena. Every two months."

xdividerx

Valencio was greeted casually by Schuster when he reported for work at the time stated, and with pleasure by the others who knew him. New to the set was a well known actress, Vivienne Lancaster.

Valencio was introduced to her, and asked, "What part are you playing?"

"The girlfriend who survives."

Valencio looked at Schuster in surprise, "I didn't know any of them survive!"

Schuster said, "There's been a few changes which you can study this afternoon. Meantime, you're to go and see Sylvie. She wants to watch how you can fight."

"Is there to be fighting, as well?"

"I'm thinking of possibilities for your next movie."

Valencio shook his head. "I told you. This is the first and last."

Jean-Pierre urged, "Come on, Vince! Choreographed fighting is enormous fun. I'm to see her, as well."

Valencio shrugged, and left with Jean-Pierre.

The casting expert, Sylvie, was watching closely as a fight raged in front of her, some with swords, some with cutlasses. Valencio grinned in utmost pleasure. This was play! He picked up a cutlass, finding it blunt. "Too light," he commented, but then whirled and snarled at Jean-Pierre, "Prepare to die!"

Jean-Pierre grinned. Vince was in his thirties, and was acting the boy. He chose himself a cutlass, and said, "Over there. We'll have a practice run while Sylvie's occupied with the others."

A camera swung onto the pair, ignored by Jean-Pierre, who knew that the whole scene was mostly for the benefit of Vince.

Valencio was half-crouched, suddenly remembering that his growling words should not be in Italian and switched to Greek. He'd had many a lesson from Farfalla during the eighteen years they'd spent as prisoners together. The point of his cutlass shifted, weaving. Jean-Pierre lunged, and he pulled back, switching the cutlass to his left hand, and drawing it lightly up the side of Jean-Pierre.

"First blood!" he announced, grinning, and twisted away from a quick counter attack.

"Don't mark him," called Sylvie, warningly.

"He won't mark me!" said Valencio, boastfully. "He's a rank amateur!"

The cutlass was smoothly passed into his other hand, and again, and now he held a sharpened piece of glass in one hand. It was a while, as they battled, Vince sometimes laughing, sometimes snarling in Greek that his enemy was shortly to meet his maker.

Jean-Pierre was no amateur, and suddenly disarmed Valencio, but Valencio ducked under the striking cutlass, touched Jean-Pierre on the neck, and announced, "Dead!"

He withdrew, as Jean-Pierre looked at him, puzzled. Valencio showed him his hand with its shiv. "I slit your carotid artery. You're now nearly dead from loss of blood." He indicated. "You can see it. It spurts very high when an artery is cut!" He regarded himself. "You bled all over me. I'll have to shower!"

Jean-Pierre shook his head, and asked, "Can I see the blade?"

Valencio opened his hands again, and asked, "What blade?"

"Just where were you brought up, Vince?"

"Several places, but I learned to fight in the back slums of Athens."

It was an impressive demonstration, and his casual line about the back slums of Athens was almost as impressive. The word would spread. Vince McDonald could be a formidable fighter!

Sylvie asked, "Have you ever done any training in choreographed boxing or judo, Vince?"

Valencio answered, "No, but anyway, I meant to make it clear I wasn't doing any more films."

"It's written into your contract that you have to do any training deemed necessary by the director."

Valencio raised an eyebrow. No it wasn't. He shrugged, "I'll be happy to. A new skill never goes astray."

Sylvie smiled. Was he fooled? She doubted it. She asked, "What other skills do you have, Vince?"

"A few languages, I did a bit of gymnastics for a while, and I have it on good authority that I have a good right."

"Was that Phil Henderson?"

"Who?"

"The man you hit a month or so ago."

"No, a chap at home. Great chap, but I knocked him down once."

Sylvie said, "Ronny will start taking you for lessons, every afternoon, three o'clock, unless your director excuses you."

Valencio complained, "You're very bossy!"

Sylvie ignored him. "Ronny, see what he can do." She nodded at the cameraman, who started to film. Ronny started to teach, and Valencio listened closely, ignoring the camera that he knew was on him. If they wanted to waste film, that was up to them.

A short time later, Valencio was kicking high in the air and blocking imaginary blows with his forearm. He objected to making Kung Fu type noises, but he was told sternly that it was how it was always done. He remarked, "It's stupid to warn your opponent. Much easier to kill someone if they're not expecting it."

"Just do as you're told," said Sylvie, severely.

Valencio grinned at her, and did as he was told. He was having a good time, and knew perfectly well that the hints of possible killings, would spread.

That afternoon, Valencio concentrated, reading over the script at the back of the room, where Jean-Pierre was heavily involved questioning the woman who'd survived. It was out of order for a change, as she had not yet done the scenes where she meets Pandragon. Valencio muttered something, and Schuster looked around in annoyance, though it hadn't been during a scene, luckily. Valencio was frowning, deep in concentration, appearing to have forgotten where he was. He stared up, almost directly at Schuster, but not seeing him, instead seeing the pictures in his own mind.

Schuster sighed. If he sent him somewhere else, he'd need an escort, someone to make sure that he was not molested. Valencio looked down again, and was silent. Schuster crossed his fingers and turned back to the actors who waited for his cue.

Valencio didn't make any more noise, and was almost forgotten as he read silently, and sometimes stared into the distance. At last, he put down the script and appeared to return to the room.

Schuster said, "Vivienne, one more time. You have to be more reluctant, more embarrassed. He has to draw it out of you with tact and persistence."

Vivienne said shrilly, "I've done the dammed scene fifteen times already! What more do you want?"

Schuster tapped his fingers, and suddenly turned to Valencio, "Ready for a scene, Vince?"

Valencio jumped, and said uncertainly, "I guess. Which scene?"

"The seduction scene," and he named the page.

"Can I have ten minutes?"

"Half an hour and a teabreak. Read it over and prepare yourself. The subsequent scenes of questioning might go better then."

Vivienne stared at Valencio, and then flounced off. Half an hour. She'd dammed well take an hour! Never had she worked with such an impossible director!

Valencio smiled at Schuster, and said, "It's good. Very good."

"It'll be demanding," warned Schuster.

Valencio nodded. Of course it would be demanding. It was what he'd been made for - playacting.

The set director was frantically flipping through pages. What was needed for this totally different scene? He looked confused, and then conferred with Schuster, after a moment, smiling slightly and nodding.

It was over an hour later before Vivienne said the first words of a different scene. Pandragon looked at her uneasily, and shifted slightly, from foot to foot. Vivienne laughed at him gently, "Surely you're not virgin! You know what I want!"

Pandragon said nervously, "I don't like it..."

Vivienne let her eyes roam up and down his body, and she licked her lips. He was only wearing a brief bathing costume. She wanted him. She took a step forward, and he took a step backward, looking toward the door as if he was about to bolt.

He spoke desperately, "You shouldn't... Bad things happen."

Vivienne moved to stand between him and the door, and her hand went to her top button. She'd done nude scenes many a time, and had confidence that her body was extremely desirable. She was a very beautiful woman. Slowly, smiling seductively, she undid her buttons, and dropped her dress.

Pandragon's breath came faster and his posture subtly changed. Vivienne undid her bra so that it fell away. The art of stripping, gracefully, without any awkward action. Her breasts were exposed, and Pandragon reached, but didn't touch. His face was pure lust now. He wanted her, desperately wanted her.

Vivienne stared at the beautiful man, almost hypnotised, and her desire was no longer acted. She stepped forward and her hand stroked, finding Pandragon erect under the bathing costume. He whimpered and pulled back. Vivienne was almost panting, and swiftly pulled down her own pants. She wanted this man, so attractive, inexplicably reluctant.

Pandragon had retreated against the wall now, his face showing sometimes his desire, sometimes a panic. Vivienne was nude, flushed, and nipples erect with her own excitement. She went closer, and Pandragon whimpered again, but this time when she reached, he took the short step forward, and took her in his arms. His hands roamed, over her back and buttocks. His mouth lowered on hers. Vivienne's hand plucked at the waistband of his bathing costume.

Suddenly she was thrust aside as Pandragon shrieked, "No!" and ran from the room.

Vivienne stared after him, and her trembling was not feigned.

Schuster said, "Cut, and prepare for the other scene again." Firmly, he said, "Vivienne, get dressed. Jean-Pierre, just as soon as the set's ready."

Valencio returned, again fully dressed, and sat at the back of the room. He thought he'd done what Schuster wanted, and was not as deeply stirred as he'd appeared. Not that the erection hadn't been genuine, but at least this time he'd been covered, and resigned to it happening. He'd always been easily excited, no point worrying too much. Vivienne hadn't been supposed to touch him like that, and he hadn't touched her at all intimately, just her back.

Vivienne was sitting, shuddering still. Jean-Pierre resumed his questioning, almost harsh as she didn't answer. At last the answers came, but hesitantly, reluctantly. Valencio looked at Schuster, who looked as imperturbable as ever. The scene he'd done would have to be done over, as the setting was wrong. He hoped, at least, that the manipulative bastard had what he wanted from Vivienne.

Schuster nodded, said it was better, and had them do it twice again. Vivienne was subdued, accepted direction, though once shooting a look of sheer resentment at Valencio. Schuster wheeled on Valencio, "Don't you have a lesson to go to?"

"Afternoon lessons starting tomorrow."

Schuster said curtly, "Be back here in an hour. I'll show you some of the film taken these past three weeks."

Valencio rose and left. Vivienne glared at him with hatred, which Schuster noted. The scene with Valencio and Vivienne, in the correct setting, might cause difficulties. Vivienne was known to be temperamental.

Valencio leaned against the wall outside the studio, wondering what to do with himself. It was a pity the gymnasium didn't have things like parallel bars and rings for swinging. He'd almost forgotten that he'd learned a bit from Margaret one time. In the end, he just found a quiet spot and sat a while, thinking about the changes that Schuster had made. He was not approached. Word had already spread that he carried a knife and had spoken casually of killing.

xdividerx

For a couple of weeks, filming was not demanding for Valencio, though he watched some very competent acting, and met Jean-Pierre's male partner, Bobby. He wasn't very surprised. No-one had told him, but there had been clues. He was only grateful that Jean-Pierre treated himself with the same uncomplicated friendship as he was treated by old Joe Corbett.

The lessons with Ronny Vale continued nearly every day. He loved it, though he still thought the yells and grunts of Kung Fu rather ridiculous. On the tenth day, Ronny asked him whether he liked him sufficiently to tolerate him as bodyguard. Valencio stared at him in surprise, "Bodyguard?"

"It's not unusual. When a high budget film rests on the continued health of one man, a bodyguard is only prudent."

"What would you have to do?"

"Be around you when you're otherwise alone. It means no-one molests you, and you won't be provoked into drawing a knife and killing someone, which would mean ruin for the film."

"Will Jean-Pierre have a bodyguard?"

"Sure, he nearly always does on location."

Valencio looked at him, and knew that it was a lie. There had been security men when they'd done those scenes on location, but no individual bodyguards. On the other hand... He smiled at Ronny and said, "I'd appreciate it."

Schuster watched Sylvie's footage of the pretend fight with Jean-Pierre several times, and still couldn't make up his mind whether McDonald could be dangerous or not. Probably, it was just acting combined with a little sleight of hand, on purpose to discourage nuisances. But that line about killing... He was glad that he'd accepted Vale as bodyguard. Better to prevent problems than have to deal with them.

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It should have been the last scene before they packed up and moved to the beach. The short life of Essan Pandragon would end on a beach.

Schuster said in a matter-of-fact tone, "It's where the psychologist looks closely at Pandragon, who's unconscious. He's to be struck anew by his physical perfection, and saddened that he has to cause his death. We're doing two versions, and I'll decide later which to use. In one, as in the script, face and shoulders are seen. In the other, the psychologist strokes his face and then draws down the blankets, just to admire. The idea to convey is how perfect is his beauty, in all respects. That no natural man is ever so perfect."

Valencio asked doubtfully, "So that's a nude scene?"

Schuster nodded briskly. "Easy. You just lie there. The most challenging part is that the make-up has to be perfect. The face must be stunning."

Valencio frowned at him, and said, "It seems quite unnecessary!" He didn't think he wanted to lie on the bed, naked, and have Jean-Pierre study his body.

Schuster was surprised. It was the first time that Vince had argued with him. He said briskly, "I'm the director. I decide what's necessary."

Valencio still stared at him, frowning, and asked, "What purpose does it serve?"

Schuster was beginning to be angry. It served little purpose, except to make a beautiful picture. He very much wanted it for his second version of the movie, the one for private viewing. Jean-Pierre was to show a strong hint of sexual desire. He said abruptly, "Go to make-up. I'll inspect closely and see if it does the job."

Valencio still hesitated, looking at him questioningly, and then around the room. There was something not quite right here. He wished Jean-Pierre was there to ask. He guessed he would be, later, and turned and went to where Dani, the make-up expert, waited for him.

Dani made three attempts, but finally sent for Schuster. Schuster studied Valencio's face. Dani had made the lips a touch more red, and put the merest hint of eye shadow, that would help show off eyes, even closed eyes.

Schuster frowned, and said, "What do you think, Vince?"

Valencio said, "The Son of Satan is not supposed to look like a girl. And every time she touches, I look more like a girl."

"Shut your eyes."

Valencio shut his eyes.

Schuster asked Dani, "Have you lengthened or darkened the eyelashes?"

"Twice, and then removed it again. At the moment, it's just him."

"Remove all make-up, and I'll have a look."

Dani carefully sponged away the make-up, and remarked, "We don't even need foundation, really, though it's always used. But there are no blemishes or lines to conceal."

Schuster said, "Maybe you'd best do only what you always do."

Dani nodded, and Valencio sat patiently, Schuster still watching.

Valencio had been thinking about the nude scene, and decided it was unimportant. Even if it was for someone's private archives, he'd already made his body public property, from the first moment Essan Pandragon had hatched from the egg. And it wasn't as if he was restrained by cuffs for the sexual pleasure of elderly wizards. People just looking never hurt. He said casually, "I won't refuse to do the nude scene."

Schuster was surprised, not by his agreement, but by the fact that he appeared to think it was up to him. Actors were supposed to do what they were told, even if they put on a performance about it. He didn't quite know what to say, and in the end, only grunted.

As promised, the scene was easy for Valencio, though far more challenging for Jean-Pierre. Valencio only had to look beautifully serene, sleeping, sedated, while Jean-Pierre had to look sadly, fondly, at the poor, confused young man whom he'd taught to speak. The monster who had killed, and yet had fled from a beautiful woman, not wanting to kill again. Jean-Pierre stroked his face in the first version, and very gently, his bare shoulder. He wiped his eyes, and then it could be seen that his eyes were wet. Most actors used chemical help when tears were needed.

In the second version, Valencio could feel the sheets drawn back, and the long silence, and then just a gentle touch, as Jean-Pierre first stroked his face, and then down his flank, took a deep shuddering breath, and blankets were tenderly rearranged around him. There was a touch on his cheek, and then he heard and felt that Jean-Pierre was no longer close.

He waited, but the cameras were still on him, focusing closely. He thought it a good idea, and if they were still filming... Apparently asleep, and yet tears began trickling.

Schuster peered, and beamed, as Schuster hardly ever beamed! It was perfect. What an actor! He left it a long five minutes, before saying quietly, "Cut." And then the usual, "Do it again," and, to Jean-Pierre, "Just a little more obvious."

Valencio glanced at Jean-Pierre, and knew exactly what he wanted more obvious. He asked Schuster, "Do you want the tears?"

Schuster said, "Just a little."

Jean-Pierre commented, "Not many actors can cry as easily as that."

"I learned on my mother when I was little. If she didn't give me my ice-cream straightaway, I'd just produce a few tears."

Schuster, unusually, showed his amusement. Others frankly laughed, including some feminine laughter from a seat at the back. Vivienne, who'd been watching. She hadn't spoken to him since the seduction scene, blaming him, it seemed. Valencio remembered how he'd resented Yiko, and thought it perfectly understandable.

Finally, Schuster was satisfied, and Valencio could get dressed. "A California beach tomorrow," he remarked to Ronny, who'd just entered the room.

Schuster warned, "No tan marks! You're either totally naked in the sun, and that's illegal, or fully covered."

"But Pandragon's supposed to be swimming and sunbaking, and he'd get tanned."

Schuster stated flatly, "Pandragon does not tan."

Valencio shook his head, mournfully, "Acting's a hard life."

Ronny consoled, "Sylvie's organised some gymnastics equipment - see what you can do."

"It was only a bit of play when I was a kid, because I had a friend who was a gymnast." He grinned, and added, "I don't mind playing again, of course."

Not long later, he was seeing if he could still raise his body with the rings and hold himself steady. He was heavier now than he'd been, and it was harder. He could still do it, barely.

Ronny watched him, and said quietly to Sylvie, "It's no wonder he needs a bodyguard."

"Really just someone to be with him, isn't it? So men don't make nuisances of themselves."

"Or women! Women could make nuisances of themselves as well."

"I can't imagine him attacking a woman. He could easily attack a man!"

Jean-Pierre was searching for his partner. Bloody Vince! It had been all he could do not to touch a lot more intimately! Schuster had what he wanted, and a whole bloody camera crew knew exactly what he wanted to do to Essan Pandragon. He'd best get it out of his system before he saw Vince again. Where was Bobby?

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Tasha had a wonderful time at the beach. There was a film crew working just along a bit, and every morning a dozen horses needed to be exercised, galloping along the beach, and sometimes into the sea. But when Schuster suggested to the horse handler that he had a woman to be kept happy, who could ride and be useful, it hadn't occurred to him that Vince might also think a dawn gallop a great thing to be doing. Vince managed only three times before Schuster caught him, and made it very clear that he could not risk injury until the movie was finished.

Valencio was working very hard now, finishing each day feeling drained. The scenes with Vivienne went unexpectedly well, her resentment and dislike showing, but also that she couldn't help wanting him. Valencio put all he had into the seduction scene this time, though it was a stunt man who ran, panicked, across the road in the face of oncoming cars. Carefully choreographed with stunt drivers, but still risky. It was Valencio himself, who ran along the beach, scattering holiday makers. In the film, he would run for hours, not slowing down even when the sun went down.

There were close-ups in the studio afterwards, to be spliced in, when he had to look distraught. He found that difficult, out of context, and it was a long time before Schuster was satisfied.

He was seeing a lot less of Jean-Pierre, whose scenes were done separately, as he worked with Ronny, or simply rested, only alone in his own room, and then with the door locked.

The day of the climactic interview with the psychologist, Schuster ordered him to remove his shirt, and studied him closely. "You're looking thin," he judged, and ordered, "Don't get any thinner."

Valencio picked up his shirt and said, "I'll try not to."

Jean-Pierre commented, "Probably Pandragon might be getting thinner as well, with the strain."

Schuster said grudgingly, "Possibly..." Businesslike, he said, "Long scenes today, one take each, as much as possible. We want to keep up the tempo. Then we'll do the whole thing again tomorrow. This is the crux of the whole movie, the psychologist and Pandragon together. Afterwards, Pandragon decides he cannot live in this world. Movie ends with him curled up on the beach, the same as the opening scene, except without the egg, of course. At the very last, and only a glimpse, three eggs are seen, on the beach, at the edge of screen, each with the blurry outline of a naked man."

"Do I get to wear clothes when I die?"

"Two versions. In one you do, in one you don't. But that'll be at least two weeks yet."

Schuster turned to Jean-Pierre, "Jean-Pierre, do you know your lines?"

Jean-Pierre nodded. He'd been studying them. Schuster wanted utmost intensity, and Vince was at his best when he could stay in character as long as possible, though it was not the way Jean-Pierre liked to work. Jean-Pierre was very experienced, and had a stake in the success of the movie. With the foil of Vince McDonald, he was acting better than he ever had, putting more of himself into his acting, exposing himself, as he seldom liked to do.

At the end of the day, Ronny came to collect Valencio, who was just sitting, head hanging. He was tired, feeling the strain.

Ronny said, "We'll go swimming, I think. Work out some of the tension."

Schuster said sharply, "No tanning."

"In the indoor pool."

Valencio swam for nearly an hour, methodically, end to end of the pool, allowing the tensions of the day to drain away. Ronny was joined by Jean-Pierre, who felt too tired even to swim.

Ronny commented, "Sandy told me it's going to be great!"

"It is. I was worried when they said it was an unknown, but Vince can act!"

"He still says he's not doing any more."

"Tasha says he probably will. She thinks he just needs a rest, and then the right temptation, and Schuster fully plans to make sure there is the right temptation."

"I thought Schuster didn't like him much."

"You know Schuster. He never appears to like anybody. But he's very impressed with Vince's acting."

"Tasha's known him a long time, she told me. Which means she was probably in the same place Valencio was."

"I heard that rumour. I don't believe it. He would not have come back so sane if he'd been one of the so-called survivors."

Ronny said doubtfully, "He's very sensitive about men touching."

"Anybody would be who looked like that."

"Maybe you're right. Poor little Valencio is probably long dead."

"Did you ever know him?"

"I vaguely remember him. He used to hang around the stunt men a lot. I remember one complaining he was always asking questions."

Valencio joined them then, and remarked to Jean-Pierre, "The same thing all over tomorrow."

"It went very well today, but you know directors. Produce a work of genius, and they say, Not bad. Do it again."

Valencio laughed, and said to Ronny, "Am I having a lesson today?"

"I thought you'd be too tired."

"It's something completely different. And Schuster won't let me ride."

"Are they really using Tasha as an extra?"

Valencio nodded. "She's tickled pink. Like me, she's missing our horses."

"What's the film about?"

"A children's film, an adventure story. Several young teenagers who like to gallop along the beach, and take their horses swimming. It sounds like fun." He glanced at Jean-Pierre, and said, "And no nudity. If I ever do another film, I want one where I get to wear clothes all the time."

Jean-Pierre said, "You've had no trouble since Henderson, have you?"

"Only because I'm never alone. The movie industry seems full of predators."

"With your looks, I suppose it's inevitable."

Valencio spoke heatedly, "Men use that as an excuse, I think. No matter what I look like, it gives no-one the right to touch!"

Jean-Pierre said, in a matter-of-fact tone, "Maybe you should just hide yourself away again."

"I probably will." He grinned ruefully, "I went to a plastic surgeon in New York a while back. Asked him how much it would cost to break my nose and bend it, and maybe make a few lumps of scar tissue on cheeks and jaw. He told me he wouldn't consider it, it was unethical..." He paused, "And then he made a pass!"

They laughed, and he shrugged, "I'm over thirty now. All I have to do is wait twenty years, and I'll look perfectly ordinary."

"You would never have had this part if you looked ordinary."

"That's the thing, of course. It's an immense satisfaction to make a story into something real, but there are few movies where exceptional looks are a requirement, not for men."

A week later, he was sitting on the beach, but wearing a coverall loose robe. Not only could there be no tan marks, there could be no marks showing where clothing had been firm around him. Even his head was covered, with the robe, and with a large sun hat. He remarked to Jean-Pierre, sitting next to him, "I feel very foolish in this."

Jean-Pierre said soothingly, "As soon as you're dead, you can sunbake."

"I have to not quite kill you, first."

"You staying around for the Wrap Party?"

"Tasha wants to. And she's still involved with the horse adventure, so we can't go home."

"It's important to the crew. They appreciate the big stars being at the party."

"And I'm a big star?"

"When this movie comes out, you will be."

Valencio frowned, "I think I may have made a very bad error of judgement doing this film."

Jean-Pierre said briskly, "Don't be silly. It's a major achievement."

Schuster called, "Half an hour, Vince. Get yourself into character."

Valencio nodded, and started looking at the script. He already knew exactly what was needed, but it stopped people talking to him. He had to concentrate. Getting himself into character, as Schuster called it.

That day, Essan Pandragon faced the fact that he could not live. That he had to die. Schuster noted that Vince seemed a little thinner again, in spite of the sweetened milk drinks he'd been pushing on him.

Filming on location finished with the death of Pandragon. A few more minor things back at the studio, and then the filming would be finished. It was up to the editors after that. Tasha was still involved, and Valencio had to leave her, reluctantly. It was work, and one had to be professional.

"Publicity," Schuster said. "Jean-Pierre and Nikole, an appearance on Libby Wright's talk show, then a Press Conference. Vince, Schoen very much wants you as well."

Valencio shook his head, "I've sat for photos. Nothing else."

Schuster said, "Well, you're a free man. I can't make you."

Valencio grinned at him, and said, "It's very good to be a free man!"

Schuster said dryly, "I daresay," and thought that he was probably wise. Reporters were devils for getting things out of people they'd prefer to keep secret, and Valencio obviously wanted some things kept very secret.

The party, and Tasha was still not back. Ben Bgorn had too much to drink, was steered away from Valencio several times, but couldn't seem to leave him alone. Valencio became fed up, and told him fiercely that if he groped one more time, his face might never look the same again. Ben looked at him in astonishment, and was firmly pulled away by Jean-Pierre and Bobby. Definitely time to leave, Valencio thought, and looked for Ronny. But Ronny was in a corner with Dani, sitting very close and talking softly. Valencio shrugged, and left alone.

Phil Henderson's two hired bullies had been waiting their opportunity. One grabbed him by the shoulder in a corridor and spun him round, hitting. Valencio fell, momentarily dizzy, but pulled a knife and slashed, making sure not to connect. "Get back or you'll regret it." The knife point weaved slightly in a circle, threatening. There was one of his tiny shivs in his other hand, almost invisible. One of the men pulled his own knife, and Valencio said calmly, "I killed my first man when I was thirteen, knifed another in his right eye, injured others. I am too dangerous for you to risk."

One made a sudden movement, and Valencio's knife changed angle slightly, point upward, ready to kill. Still coolly, he asked, "Why are you attacking me?"

"Orders," grunted one. "You assaulted Mr. Henderson."

Valencio was half crouched, ready for instant action. His knife smoothly flowed into his other hand, and he had his shiv in his right hand. He showed them, and said, "Not even two inches long, just a bit of sharpened glass. It's how I killed when I was just a kid, a bit of glass just like this."

It was enough, and the men cautiously backed off. Valencio breathed a sigh of relief. He'd be in big trouble if he knifed somebody. Not the Spell of Pain, but gaol, probably. And there had been something on TV he'd watched, that implied that men in gaol routinely get raped. He couldn't go to gaol! That night, not only did he lock the door of his apartment, he jammed it shut with a chair. Definitely time to go home.

The following day, a routine scan of security film was studied very closely. The picture was reasonable, but the audio was very poor, and needed enhancement with computer technology. Influential men and women studied the final product, and the career of Phil Henderson was over.

One said, "McDonald claims to have killed. Should we show the police?"

Schoen said smoothly, "He's an actor, remember, and he made the men back down. It was just a bluff, but it worked." Schoen was very pleased. He still thought that Vince was the poor little boy kidnapped. If he was - it sounded like he just might have managed a little revenge! Valencio Durano had grown into a formidable man!

He showed it to Schuster, who said very little, but watched carefully. Schoen finally said, "Whether you're willing to admit it or not, he's a genius at his work. Even with potential problems, well worth the trouble."

"He works well under me. As long as he's not molested, there will be no problems. I'll do my best to ensure he's not molested."

Schoen smiled. Schuster wouldn't say he was a genius! He was not a man given to superlatives. He asked, "Do you remember the work of Livio Durano? He only did a few films, but I watched them again a few weeks ago. He was brilliant."

Schuster said briefly, "Before my time."

"You should watch them. He doesn't look much like Vince." He glanced at Schuster, "He became unreliable, unemployable, and died in an institution. They said he was psychotic."

Schuster said flatly, "There are no signs of any such problems with Vince, no matter what his past might have been."

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