Chapter Four: Who're You?

Thank you to all my reviewers! I was getting tired of all of the "I get sucked into Tortall, everyone loves me, I know exactly what's going on and love it, and then I save the world" fictions. The fact is that most people would think themselves either dead or mad if they were told they had just been transported to a world that exists only in books. Be assured that this will be continuing.

"Aaaah," Imogen sighed in ecstasy, sinking into a tub of steaming hot water. "That is just what I needed to get rid of all that dirt." The next few minutes were a flurry of activity as Imogen hurried to scrub every square inch of her body. While attacking the foreign materials in her hair, Imogen began to reflect upon her rather unique situation.

*Let's see,* she thought pensively. *I'm in a strange country with strange customs in a castle with two adults who have no idea how I got here or what I'm doing. This Numair (whoever he is) obviously has no idea either. There is a very obnoxious boy here who insists I'm a mage (what's a mage?) and who won't take no for an answer. I think I've finally gone around the bend. Yet it all seems so real. Somehow I thought madness would be slightly…well, slightly less logical.*

Imogen dunked her head under and rinsed the lather and filth from her hair. Only when she was positive that all gunk had been removed did Imogen step out of the tub and look around for the clothing Alanna had brought for her. This took the form of undergarments, plain linen pants, a cotton shirt very similar to her school blouse, and a pale green tunic (A/N: Does anyone know the colors of Pirate's Swoop?). Yanking a brush through her unruly locks, Imogen noticed that her hair was now quite a bit longer than she remembered. She had worn it in a tight bun since she first arrived at Saint Margaret's, but then it had only reached to the middle of her back. Now it was almost past her waist. Looking around for hair ties, Imogen snorted with annoyance when she realized that she had left her pins in George's study. No help for it but to leave her hair loose.

Entering the adjacent bedchamber, Imogen looked around for the first time. The window boasted a magnificent view of the cove beside the Swoop. The bed was in the center of the room, an old-fashioned canopy with surrounding curtains. The stone walls were covered with cheerful tapestries. At the foot of the bed Imogen saw something that she recognized as her school bookbag, looking ridiculously out of place in the elegant room.

Imogen was startled out of her reflection by a knock on the door. When she opened it, she saw the Lioness leaning against the doorframe.

"Lunch is served," the red-haired woman said cheerfully. "Time to meet the rest of my chaotic family." Then she blinked and took a step backwards. "Well," she said approvingly, "that outfit sure suits you better than your old get-up. How do girls in your country survive wearing skirts like that?"

Imogen shrugged, "Beats me," she said, stepping out of her room and closing the door behind her. "I could never see the purpose of it either. However, it was school policy, so I had to go along."

The Lioness grimaced in sympathy. "Speaking of skirts, do you know how to ride horseback?"

Imogen nodded. "I learned when I was eight. We were living in the country then, and all the children rode in their spare time."

"Sidesaddle or straddle?" Alanna asked.

Imogen repressed a shudder. "Straddle. Nobody rides sidesaddle anymore."

Alanna looked intrigued. "Really?" she said curiously and would have asked more if they had not just arrived at the dining hall. Alanna, with a quick glance at Imogen, pushed open the door.

Imogen understood the glance within seconds. Sitting at the table, right in her line of sight, was the annoying red-haired boy. He scowled at her, his wrath apparently unabated. Imogen matched his expression with an equally venomous frown as she took a seat, as far away from Thom as possible.

Suddenly two children, a boy and a girl, came barreling into the dining area at top speed, obviously having run a long distance. They skidded to a stop, panting for breath. "Sorry, Ma and Da. We lost track of the time," the boy said once he could breathe again. "Who are you?" he demanded a moment later, noticing Imogen.

"You're excused, and she's Imogen Darcy," Alanna sighed, looking affectionately at the pair, who were obviously twins and her children.

The two children (Imogen estimated them to be about fourteen) slid into seats at the table. "How'd she get here?" the girl asked, glancing curiously at Imogen.

"I dropped from the sky," Imogen said demurely, a small smile playing at her lips.

"No, really," the boy protested. "How'd you get here?"

"I dropped from the sky," Imogen said again, biting her lip to keep from snorting with laughter.

The twins looked at each other, then at Imogen. "Explain," they demanded in unison.

After a very abridged version of events, the twins were finally satisfied that this stranger that had dropped through their roof was telling the truth. They stared at Imogen with wide eyes. "Goddess," the boy choked out. "Another world? Well, you're certainly not what we would have expected."

Imogen's eyebrows drew together in a frown. "Not what you expected? How so?"

The girl kicked her brother under the table. "Well, we would have expected somebody a little…stranger."

Thom snorted. "She's plenty strange, Alianne. You just don't know it yet."

Imogen closed her eyes and counted to ten, concentrating on controlling the rising tide of anger threatening to engulf her. When she opened her eyes she noticed everyone at the table was staring oddly at her. "What?" she inquired, confused.

"Nothing," the twin boy said. "It's just…here, people have a tendency to just explode when they get angry."

Imogen smiled wryly. "I learned at school it was a bad idea to let my anger get the better of me. I had a tendency to - ahem - throw things at the other girls."

The other girl's lip twitched into a smile. She leaned across the table to grasp Imogen's hand. "I'm Alianne, and I like you," she announced frankly. "Welcome to Pirate's Swoop."

Her twin followed suit. "I'm Alan, and that's Thom," he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. "I don't think he likes you, but I second Alianne's opinion. Welcome to our insane home." Alan pumped Imogen's hand energetically.

They were called back to the business of the midday meal by Alanna clearing her throat rather loudly. "Now, if introductions are quite finished, we may proceed to the blessing," she said sternly. Her children and Imogen bowed their heads meekly as she asked the Goddess to bless their food. "Now," the Lioness said, finished, "dig in."

Imogen thought she had never enjoyed a meal so much. For once she didn't have other girls telling her that if she ate that much, she would get fat. The food was delicious, and the twins kept Imogen laughing throughout. In fact, everything was perfect, except for one nagging, ever-present doubt.

*Am I still sane?*

Next Chapter: More spectacular explosions between Imogen and Thom (they really don't like each other, it's not just pretend), Alan tries to teach Imogen sword-fighting, Numair figures out what's going on, and the peculiar god makes an appearance. It should be up tomorrow!