Chapter One

"Remind me again of why we took this course," Lana lamented as she and Clark strode across the quad of Kansas University, en route to their Survey of Medieval Literature class.

"Because it looks good on your resume," Clark replied. "And it's loads of fun."

"Oh, yes. Loads." Lana threw him a cynical look as she pulled open the door of Moore Hall.

"You've got to admit, Professor Arden is a real character."

"That's one way of putting it." The only thing that surpassed the tall, middle-aged professor's knowledge was his enthusiasm for the subject matter. On the first day of class, he strode to the front of the room and announced that the first order of business would be learning middle English because "translated texts are for wusses." He was big on student participation, and required everyone to do an oral presentation every two weeks on the reading. Lana spent more hours on this class than all her high school classes put together, but she had to admit she was learning a lot about the Middle Ages. She probably knew more random medieval factoids than most other sixteen-year-olds.

"He is one of the top medievalists in the academic world, on loan from Oxford," Clark went on.

"Makes me wonder why he came here."

He shrugged. "Beats me." He held the door open for Lana, who preceded him into the classroom. "Whatever his reason, it's our good fortune."

"It depends on how you define good fortune." And at that moment, it appeared that his definition of good fortune was striding down the hall toward them.

"Hey there, high school," a lilting, British-accented, and delightfully feminine voice greeted them.

"Oh, hey, Gillian." Clark was positively beaming at the willowy blonde standing in front of them. Jeez, isn't she freezing in that outfit? Lana thought, surveying the other girl's low-cut velvet jeans and cropped sweater that revealed narrow strip of her toned midriff. Not the kind of thing you wear during April in Smallville. Not to mention that the AC in Moore Hall seemed perpetually set at sub-arctic.

"Aren't you cold?" Lana couldn't help but ask.

"Lana, I come from England. It's positively tropical here in comparison."

Lana instantly decided it was a bad move to mention Gillian's outfit, considering that Clark was now paying even more attention to her appearance than before. She resisted the urge to offer him a tissue to wipe up the ribbon of drool threatening to escape his mouth.

"So are you all ready for your presentation?" Gillian asked.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Clark answered, with far too much perkiness for Lana's taste.

"This week's one wasn't as bad as the others."

"Yeah, it was cool."

"We were only at the Talon till one-thirty, as opposed to two," Lana made sure to mention.

Gillian arched an elegant golden eyebrow. "Do you two not like to sleep?"

"Who needs sleep when you have coffee and Chaucer?" Clark joked.

"Yep. Funny how time flies when you're not having fun." Lana added.

"Don't mind her, she doesn't operate too well without her eight hours," Clark explained.

"Don't worry, I understand," Gillian assured them. "It's hard enough to do a report as it is without the middle English to contend with. I take my hat off to you two, taking one of the most difficult freshman courses while you're still in high school."

"Yup, that's us, a couple of gluttons for punishment," Lana said.

"To be honest, I'm surprised your high school's honors program offered my father's class, seeing as it's a bit esoteric. You'd think they'd give you Intro to Psych or something."

"Actually, they did. It's just that Chaucer's infinitely cooler than Freud," Clark joked.

"Well, duh. I could've told you that." Gillian's eyes sparkled. One was azure blue, like her father's, and the other a warm vibrant brown.

"It's just such an honor to have your father come all the way out here from Oxford, the administration probably felt we should take advantage," Clark continued.

Lana smiled as natural a smile as she could, which wasn't easy when one was trying very hard to hold down one's lunch.

"So whatever brought the great Professor Arden to this little burgh, anyway?" Clark asked. "Kansas U is OK, but it's not exactly the Ivy League."

"It wasn't the school, actually," Gillian answered. "It was the meteor rocks. See, Father is overseeing an archeological dig in England, at the ruins of a grand old castle called Langdon. It's kind of off the beaten path, so there aren't a lot of tourists, which is why most people don't know about it. They've made some several incredible finds there. It's amazing those artifacts are in such great condition. Of particular interest is some weaponry containing this strange green gemstone. We'd never seen anything like it. Turns out the only other place in the world that has it is Smallville, Kansas."

"Wow," Lana remarked. "That's pretty wild."

"Yes, especially since there are no records of a meteor shower like the one you experienced," Gillian said. "Father is here doing research, hoping it might shed some light on a possible explanation."

"Gillian, you're not boring them with talk about the Langdon project, are you?" Professor Arden spoke up, frowning at them from behind his desk.

"Well, they asked," Gillian told him.

"It's OK, Professor Arden," Clark said. "It's really very interesting."

"I'm glad you think so, Mr. Kent," was the professor's response, "but I have to ask you three to postpone your conversation till after class. We have presentations to get through, and I've got a group project to assign."

Gillian groaned. "Dad, I already have a five-page paper and fifty pages of world history to read!"

"Good, you should be able to skip the medieval part." The professor made shooing motions with his hand. "Shoo! Sit down. I'm already running late."

They obediently filed to their seats as the professor approached his lectern.

"How come you never mentioned this Landon project before?" Clark asked Gillian.

She shrugged. "You never asked."

"I'd love to learn more about it.'

Oh, Lord , Lana thought. Why don't you suggest getting coffee after class, you know, to learn more about the Langdon project?

Clark shuffled his sneaker-clad feet nervously. "Um, Gillian, if you want to go to the student center or something, you know, after class..."

Lana's prodigious stack of books chose that moment to topple from her arms and hit the linoleum floor. Immediately all chatter ceased as ten heads swiveled toward the noise. "Oh, my God, I am such a klutz!" Lana exclaimed, immediately dropping to the floor to retrieve her books. Clark bent down as well, and they were soon made painfully aware of their heads' inability to occupy the same space at the same time.

"Owwww," Lana groaned, rubbing her head. "Are you all right?"

"I'll live." He rose awkwardly to his feet. "Here."

She regarded his outstretched hand dubiously for a moment, then realized that if she didn't take it he would surely conclude that something was wrong. What if he thought she was mad at him? What if he thought she was jealous of Gillian? She'd swallow nails before she did anything to even imply such a ridiculous notion.

So she let him help her up. "Thanks," she muttered when she regained her balance, and wasted no time tugging her hand away. Dammit, why did her cheeks still feel so warm? It wasn't as if it was the first time she'd klutzed out in front of a group of people. It wasn't like she had anyone in this class to impress. And it definitely wasn't because of the brief bodily contact with Clark Kent.

"Miss Lang, might I suggest a larger backpack?" Professor Arden asked, taking in the entire spectacle from behind his lectern. "And Mr. Kent, perhaps next time you might offer to carry some of the lady's books for her." He shook his head. "I swear young men these days have no concept of chivalry..."

"I'll try to be more chivalrous next time, Professor Arden," Clark promised.

"I appreciate the offer, but I think I can handle a few books," Lana told him.

"Great, glad we've got that solved," the professor remarked blandly. "Now, since you two seem to enjoy being the center of attention, perhaps you'd like to start us off with your presentation on A Knight's Tale? "

Great, just great , Lana thought, groaning inwardly. Could this day suck any harder?

She trudged to the front of the room like a prisoner condemned to the electric chair. Clark, on the other hand, was practically levitating across the room. It might have had something to do with the brilliant smile Gillian flashed him as she touched his arm and whispered, "Good luck." Lana had to admit to a perverse sense of satisfaction when he tripped over a protruding chair leg and stumbled.

At least the presentation went fairly painlessly. Lana managed to get through the middle English without mauling it too much. Too bad she couldn't say the same for Clark. He bumbled his way through his portion of the presentation before fleeing to his desk like a rat bailing from a sinking ship.

"Not bad, Miss Lang," the professor commented when it was over. "Work on that accent, Mr. Kent. Poor Mr. Chaucer is surely turning over in his grave."

Clark's face turned as red as his flannel shirt, but at least their classmates had the good graces not to giggle-well, not loudly, anyway.

"Gillian, you're next."

Gillian strode to the front of the room and, with a winsome cutesiness รก la Cher in Clueless , gave her report on the Wife of Bath's Tale. Her middle English sounded as though she'd been speaking it since she first learned to talk-which, considering who her father was, she probably had. Lana felt sorry for whoever had to follow that act. The only good thing was, at least it wasn't her and Clark. She watched the rest of the presentations, encouraged by the fact that most of the college students didn't fare much better than she and Clark had. Then came the announcement of the big project.

"Our final project will be a ten-page paper on a primary medieval source other than The Canterbury Tales ." The professor ignored the groans throughout the room and continued, "You will also give a ten-minute presentation in class. You must mention why you selected this text and what contribution it makes to the study of medieval history and literature. Presentations will be done on the last day of class. This assignment is worth twenty percent of your grade, so make it good. I want you to arrive next week with the text you intend to work on. Now pick your groups, and that's it for today."

Finally, Lana thought. She turned to Clark. "Want to work together?"

"Sure," he replied with that effortless grin that still managed to make her insides to a funny fluttery thing despite how often she repeated to herself that she was over him. "We need a third person, though."

"Excuse me, but did I hear that you two need a third person?"

Lana's head snapped up from her notebook in time to see Gillian standing next to Clark's desk, belly-button ring glinting in the pallid fluorescent light.

"Uh... yeah. I did," Clark bumbled.

"Cool. Can I join your group?"

"Sure." Clark sounded like a first-grader who'd just heard the recess bell. "That would be great."

Lana found herself trying very, very hard not to smack Clark upside the head.

"Excellent. Will you be on campus tomorrow? I'd like to start the project as soon as possible. It's going to be a bear-trust me, I know."

"I believe you," he replied. "We can come after school."

"Great. I have a meeting of the Anachronism Society till four, but we can meet at the quad afterwards and head to the library."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Clark replied. "That work for you, Lana?"

"Works just fine for me."

"What is the Anachronism Society, anyway?" Clark wanted to know.

"You'll see," was Gillian's mysterious reply. She began gathering up her books. "Hate to bail on you, but I've got another class and it's all the way across campus. So I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yep. Four o'clock. The quad," Clark said promptly.

"All right. See ya." Gillian took off, Clark's eyes following her graceful figure out the door.

Well, Lana thought dryly. I guess I was wrong before. The day could definitely suck harder.

It was late afternoon before Lana returned to the Sullivans' home. Exhausted, she stumbled through the door under her pile of books, eagerly anticipating changing into her favorite grungy sweats, breaking out some junk food and just chilling.

"Nell," she blurted out, startled by the familiar face she saw in the Sullivans' living room. "I didn't know you were coming!"

Depositing her books on the coffee table, she rushed over to give her aunt a hug. "What are you doing here?"

"I wish I had some happier news," Nell replied, sorrow reflected in her eyes. "It's your great aunt, Lily. She passed away yesterday."

"Great Aunt Lily died?" Lana simply stood there for a moment, taking in the information. On one hand, it was hard to be too affected by Lily's death, since Lana barely knew her great aunt. Lily had been living in England for as long as she could remember. She had met her only twice, both times as a little girl. On the other hand, Lana was saddened by the death of a family member, even one with whom she was not particularly close.

"I'm so sorry, Lana," Chloe said sympathetically.

"She died peacefully, in her sleep, at her home in Hamstead Heath," Nell informed her.

"I'm glad she didn't suffer," Lana remarked.

"No, I imagine she didn't," Nell agreed. "I thought I'd come and tell you in person. But there's something else. We have a package for you. Apparently, Lily thought you were still living with me and sent it to my address. It just arrived yesterday."

"The same day she died," Lana commented. A strange chill came over her as she surveyed the small package sitting atop the coffee table.

"That is freaky," Chloe said, voicing Lana's thoughts.

Lana picked up the package with unsteady hands. "Anyone have a knife or something I can open this with?"

"I have one." Chloe handed her a pocket knife.

It occurred to Lana to wonder why Chloe carried a pocket knife, but her thoughts were soon diverted to her aunt's mysterious package. She neatly slit the tape and opened the box. A faint chemical smell, like mildew and mothballs, wafted out.

"Smells musty," Chloe observed.

"Wow... this must be really old." Lana lifted a worn piece of material gingerly from the box. "What is it, a blanket?"

"Actually, it looks like a tapestry." Chloe leaned closer, inspecting the tapestry. "Wow, this is incredible... look at the detail. The colors must've been really vibrant before they got all faded."

Lana peered at the tapestry, reluctant to handle it too much for fear of damaging it. From what she could see, figures had been painstakingly rendered with fine threads, probably real silk. Strands of gold thread glinted among the folds of material. "It is beautiful," Lana remarked. "But I wonder why Lily sent it to me."

"There's a note," Nell told her, handing Lana a neatly folded piece of paper.

Intrigued, Lana accepted the note and opened it. Chloe leaned eagerly over her shoulder as she read it silently.

My dear grand-niece Lana,

I'm sure you're surprised to hear from me. I know you don't know me well, and it saddens me greatly that it had to be that way. Unfortunately, my health has deteriorated too much for travel, and I could never understand all those fancy new computer things. Seems none of you young people care to write letters anymore, what with e-mail and instant messengers and whatnot. I just want you to know how much I wish I could have known you, and to tell you about the gift I'm sending you. I've been getting a strange feeling as of late, and I sense that now is the time for me to pass it on. It's been passed down for generations, so far back I don't even know. Having no daughters of my own, you were the natural choice to inherit it. Perhaps you were the one it was meant for. I wish I could tell you more about it, but alas, this is all I know. Please treasure this gift as I have and all of our ancestors before me. Now it is your turn to finish the story.

Your great aunt,

Lily Thornton

A chill slid down Lana's spine. It was strange to think that Lily had written this letter just days before her death. There was something so final about it.

"That's intense," Chloe murmured. "It's almost like she knew she was going to die."

"My grandmother always joked that Lily was clairvoyant," Lana remarked. "I never took it seriously."

"Maybe she was right," Chloe said. "It sounds like a real honor, getting this tapestry. I wish our family had something cool like that."

"I guess... I don't know, I'm just really weirded out," Lana told her. She carefully laid the tapestry back down it its box. "Today has to officially be the worst day ever."

"I can imagine. It must be a real blow, coming home from school to find out something like that," Chloe's dad said comfortingly. "If there's anything we can do for you..."

"Thanks, Mr. Sullivan. I appreciate it. But I think I'd just like to go to my room now."

"Why don't you do that? You look exhausted," Nell observed. "We can talk later tonight. I'm staying at the Smallville Inn till tomorrow."

"Thanks. I am really tired," Lana said.

"I bet," Chloe sympathized. "I just want you to know, if you ever want to talk, I'm here. You said it was the worst day ever. It might make you feel better to discuss it with someone."

Chloe was the last person on earth with whom Lana cared to discuss Clark. "Thanks, but it's no big deal... just a bunch of school crap. That medieval lit class is really kicking my butt."

"I imagine. You and Clark are up till all hours of the night for that class," Chloe's mother remarked.

"You must be a veritable medieval expert by now," Chloe kidded. "Maybe you and Clark could take a look at that tapestry. You might've learned something that could shed some light on it."

Lana regarded her dubiously. "You really think it's from the Middle Ages? That it somehow survived all these years without falling apart?"

"Hey, we live in Smallville. I'm beginning to believe nothing is impossible."

"You've got a point there." Except for one thing, she added silently. W orking on a bitch of a final class project with my ex-boyfriend and his new love interest.

Maybe the Middle Ages weren't such a bad time to live in, after all, Lana mused. I could marry a good-looking knight and wear cool clothes all day, maybe learn to fence. I'd live in a castle and have nothing to stress over, nothing to do but make beautiful tapestries like this one.

With that comforting vision in mind, Lana adjourned to her room.