My sincerest apologies to everyone who's been waiting for this. Life has been hectic this year, what with moving and buying a house and finishing and starting school…I've had precious little time to work on WOWL, and to be honest, I lost the rough draft for the first four chapters for a couple months. But I've found two of them, so things should (hopefully) start coming together sooner (but don't hold me to that).

On a somewhat different note, I've only partially edited this – I haven't had the time to go over it as thoroughly as I'd like. If anyone would like to volunteer as beta…? It would be much appreciated, if only so I could get the chapters out faster, and for my own sanity. In the meantime, my apologies for any grammar or spelling mistakes – completely my fault and my bad.

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Tamora Pierce. Most everything else and the plot are mine.

Rhys

What Once Was Lost

Chapter One

The Ambassador, the Admiral, and the Guardian

Admiral Hengemont Roboak was a man who bore grudges until they started showing signs of old age. Kel had unfortunately discovered this the hard way. Military to the core, the Kronean admiral had deeply resented the implication that Kel, a mere diplomat, outranked him on his own flagship. He had treaded her with all the courtesy and respect due her 'rank,' but not before vehemently protesting her assignment to his fleet to both Supreme Admiral Liskmae and Second Minister Amotok, head of the DRDC, as well as Supreme Commander Stevan. All three had been firm, and he'd had no choice but to take her aboard, even though as an ambassador she was technically supposed to travel via a DRDC ship. She had done everything she could not to draw attention to herself and avoid stepping on his toes, choosing to remain in her suite unless eating or otherwise required to venture forth. She suspected that the admiral knew what she was doing, and so was actually able to swallow his pride and invite her to sup with him as custom demanded. But she also knew that both would be infinitely more comfortable once the first half of their mission was completed and she took command of her actual post, safely ensconced in the embassy on the planet's surface and out of harm's (and his) way, rather than in her suite aboard the admiral's command. But there was still much to be done before such could come to pass, and the task directly before her now was merely the first of them.

To all but the most scrutinizing eyes, Roboak was perfectly calm when she arrived on the flag bridge, buried deep in the gut of the massive attack cruiser. She pretended not to notice how the corner of his nearest eye twitched as he observed her set foot into the heart of his command, but did sigh internally. Honestly, did he expect her to usurp his command here, of all places, and at this late date, when she had made no such attempt any time previously? She knew better than to tick off her uniformed counterpart in the seat of his power and authority. Besides, the orders Second Minister Amotok had drafted for her had made it plain that she was not to act in the capacity of flag officer of the Sol Fleet, despite the fact that she was 'technically' its commanding officer.

Her mind gave another long-suffering sigh as she stepped forward to join the admiral where he stood before the main viewscreen, currently displaying the visual readouts from the Sol's bridge viewports. Kel had never adjusted to traveling in any space other than normal. The visual alone was enough to make her queasy as she watched the molten fire of hyperspace rush up to and past her. She swallowed her discomfort, however, when the admiral finally chose to acknowledge her.

His was a short, curt nod, but his deep, rumbling bass voice was as polite as could be. Kel suppressed the urge to scowl, instead crafting her face into her third-best (the second reserved for politics, and the first for any contact or communication with beings she absolutely detested) of the Yamani masks that had earned her the nickname 'Lump' when she was a page, and then later 'Plictak' – emotionless automaton – by her superiors and colleagues after her abduction. "Ambassador Mindelan. I am pleased you could join me," he said.

"The pleasure is all mine, Admiral Roboak." She could fake pleasure and politeness with the best of them, if the situation called for it. Unfortunately and rather unfairly, this one did.

His eyes showed his opinion of the likeliness of that statement, but he continued anyway, and Kel could not help but mentally bemoan the need to apply her diplomatic skills to a member of her government's own navy. "Bearmack Squadron reverted to hyperspace half a tiem ago. Their reports are just now coming in. According to them, the system is clean, and it is safe for all ships to revert to normal space."

Kel nodded, doing quick mental conversions. The universal time system was, in her humble opinion, decidedly skewed. Seconds, called crells, were still the same increment of time, but instead of twenty-four hours in a day, clocks were most often set to ten tiems a day. Since a tiem (pronounced shem) was about 3 1/3 hours, that meant a day (or a suuth, depending on which language you were using) was roughly thirty-three hours long. Each tiem was made up of one hundred mengs, the equivalent of two minutes, and each meng was made up of 120 crells. So if the squadron of recon ships permanently attached to the Sol Fleet had dropped down into hyperspace half a tiem ago, that meant an hour ago, and the fleet had been orbiting the system for the past fifty minutes, or twenty-five mengs.

"Your orders, then, Ambassador?" Kel firmly quashed a grimace, for the admiral's tone, if not his words, had been stiffly formal and still unable to hide his disgust and resentment at having to request her permission to bring the fleet – both fleets – out of hyperspace.

But there was little she could do, for despite the fact that her orders made it clear she was not to act in the capacity of commanding officer, his orders required him to seek her permission before bringing either fleet, but particularly the refugee fleet, into a potentially hazardous situation, regardless of how safe the recon squadron said it was, which unfortunately included reversions into slipstream or normal space, where the fleets could be detected.

She considered the admiral for a moment, allowing none of her thoughts to be seen in her eyes, face, or posture, before finally nodding. "Bring us out of hyperspace, then, Admiral," she said softly. He nodded as well before turning and relaying her orders to his comm officer, Lieutenant Commander Shanki, who in turn relayed them to the rest of the fleet.

The Sol Fleet was relatively small as most universal fleets went, with ten each of attack, assault, and defense cruisers, plus screen, a medical frigate, two stealth cruisers, a single fingership, and a recon squadron composed of six ships. One hundred ten ships, all told. RNS Sol, an Embriyn-class attack cruiser and the flagship, was the largest vessel and crewed by nearly two thousand people.

But despite the number of ships, the total tonnage of the Sol Fleet was dwarfed by that of Refugee Fleet Terra One. RFT.01 was only comprised of forty ships, but the massive transports were crewed by five thousand and carried approximately two hundred thousand Terrans each. The eight million humans were nearly all that was left of their race, just a few short years ago numbering ten billion. The Embriyn-class attack cruisers were the largest military vessels commonly employed in the universe, but it would take over one hundred of them to equate the carrying capacity of just one of the massive Aldebaran-class transports. Because they were so large, there were very few of them in commission, as they weren't very practical for most personnel transfers. Most navies preferred the considerably smaller Venglet-class transports, commonly referred to as beetleships, whose carrying capacity was only about ten thousand. RFT.01 contained nearly all of the Aldebarans in the DRN.

A single ship reverting from hyperspace to normal space was a sight to see, the forward shields tearing a hole in the wall between the two in order to slip through. The tear could be detected for thirty light-minutes, and could be seen with the naked eye from as far as ten million klicks. The ship would seem to literally be engulfed in flames of blue-green, and hyperspace would trail after the departing ship until the tear resealed itself, barely even a nanosecond after the ship cleared it. But two fleets as large as Sol Fleet and RFT.01, along with the twenty-five supply vessels servicing both and the forty beetleships accompanying them for the sole purpose of transferring the Terrans from the Aldebarans to the planet, would create a tear that could be detected for two light-years, and wouldn't reseal until two minutes after the last ship cleared it.

It was for that reason that fleet admirals usually approached a system in hyperspace where it was undetectable, then rapid-translated up to slipstream and then back down to normal space, because while ships in slipstream could be detected by ships in normal space, a reversion from slipstream to normal space, while even more visually spectacular than a hyper-normal reversion, was completely undetectable, unless the sensor tech realized that the ship they were tracking was no longer traveling at slipspeed. Most rapid-translations were so quick that unless one was specifically watching for it, one wouldn't catch it.

But it would never do for the helmsmen to get out of practice, Kel though with a very private smirk, and it was highly unlikely that anyone other than their own ships would be within the two light-years needed to detect them. And she wanted to give the system guardians as much advance warning as possible. Besides, rapid-translations were 'hard on the engines.'

She watched as the brilliant white tear suddenly blossomed in the viewscreen, the only sign that the Sol Fleet's point assault cruiser, the RNS Freedom Fighter, and her screen had just departed for normal space. It grew in size and brilliance as more and more vessels reverted, and then suddenly the RNS Sol and her screen reverted back into normal space. Fire engulfed the viewscreen, and she waited as Roboak swept his gaze over the tactical displays. If anything was amiss, they'd be back in slipstream and then hyperspace before she'd be able to give the order, and she knew better than to distract him while he searched for any threat Bearmack Squadron had missed. But the blue-green flames began to fade, and as the seconds slipped past, she felt her body relax. As far as the admiral was concerned, they were safe, and that was good enough for her.

She listened quietly as he ordered his fleet into a screen about RFT.01 and began the twenty-minute journey in-system to a planet she hadn't seen in over fifteen years. The great, shining jewel of crystal blue oceans and molted green and brown continents that was the hope of the Terran refugees, Mendari IV – her own home world.

xxxxx

Admiral Hengemont Roboak, flag officer of the DRN Sol Fleet, watched his 'commanding officer' unobtrusively out of the corner of his eye as he directed his fleets in-system. Ambassador Kel Mindelan was decidedly reclusive for a diplomat, he'd noticed. The only times she'd ventured forth from her suite was when duty required it, or he'd invited her to sup with him. It had made things much easier for him, yes, but he'd found her behavior rather disconcerting. This wasn't the first time Second Minister Amotok had snagged him to ferry one of his diplomats, nor was it the first time Supreme Admiral Liskmae had made said diplomat the highest-ranking officer in the fleet, but it was the first time Supreme Commander Stevan had stuck in her oar, to borrow a Terran phrase. He supposed there was enough reason for it, considering the fact that it was all but the last of her kind that he was escorting, but something about her reply didn't sit right with him.

The feeling of oddness had only been amplified when he'd perused the ambassador's personnel file. Her species was registered as human, which had somewhat startled him despite her physical appearance, because it also said that she had been serving in the DRDC for the past twelve zneds (years). Yes, Supreme Commander Stevan had served in the UDR for nearly thirty zneds, but her situation was unique. Aside from Stevan (and apparently Mindelan), humans had not begun to serve until a zned and a half ago, after Terra had been quarantined. But that wasn't what had originally caught his eye. No, the thing that had made him return his drink to his desk when it was only halfway to his lips was her planet of origin – or rather, lack thereof.

It wasn't listed.

How could it not be? When she'd read her species registration, he'd felt a swell of sympathy for her despite his disappointment, and his eyes had automatically jumped to the planet of origin to read 'Terra' and offer silent condolences. Except it hadn't been there. Instead, a decidedly out of place N/A had greeted his questing eyes. N/A? What? N/A could stand for two things – Not Applicable or Not Available. A person was Not Applicable on if they had been born ship- or stationside to parents that had been born ship- or stationside, and to his knowledge, the Terrans hadn't had either long enough for such to be true in the ambassador's case, whose age in the file had been thirty-six. And even though it was quarantined, Terra was still 'available.' Every other human aside from her had listed their planet of origin as Terra, even Stevan. He'd checked. The only other time someone could list their planet as Not Available was when they had suffered amnesia and couldn't remember, and even that was rare, because it was usually then listed as the planet of origin of his species. But the medical portion of her file made absolutely no mention of her suffering amnesia, or any head injury of any kind. So what was going on?

He'd studied her every chance he'd gotten, and noticed that she carried a sorrow with her everywhere. It wasn't an all-consuming grief like most humans exhibited, so maybe she really wasn't from Terra. But it was a deep-rooted sorrow nonetheless, and he suspected it was mingled with something else. And she was also remarkably naïve for a diplomat who'd been serving with the DRDC for so long. Her mask (and it was very good) hid most of it, but her eyes showed perhaps more than she realized, and it seemed as though every creature she encountered aboard his flagship was a source of awe. Her child-like wonder, while it would have been endearing in most other situations, had grated on his nerves rather severely, not to mention made him begin to seriously doubt her capabilities.

But her reclusive behavior especially had him on edge, at the same time as it relaxed him. Diplomats weren't the shy type. Well…neither was she, he admitted, the few times he'd been able to observe her aboard the Sol. She'd been polite and sociable, but only when duty required her to be out and about. But she'd made absolutely no attempt to usurp him, give orders, or in any other way act in the capacity of her technical rank, as every other diplomat had. In fact, she seemed to have gone out of her way to stay out of his way, and it made him distinctly uneasy. What was she up to? He also resented that she felt the need to be so careful, but rebuked himself for that thought, because why would she do that unless he'd made in necessary, and why would she bother unless she really wasn't out to take command? And if so, then this entire situation was his fault. His mood had steadily worsened as the journey wore on.

This time, however, her mask wasn't working quite as well, and he wondered at the mix of emotions he read there. Excitement, apprehension - was that joy? - and a couple others he couldn't identify warred for dominance in her eyes. None seemed to be winning. Now what? His orders had become rather muddled and vague when they discussed what was to happen when they actually reached the Praont System. The only things he'd been able to understand were that there were some sort of system guardians there, and they'd have to clear their mission with them, and that Ambassador Mindelan would know how to contact them. But Bearmack Squadron had reported an empty system – there was no sign of these system guardians. So then why was she excited?

He blinked and turned to face her fully when her head bowed, her eyes drifted closed, and she folded her hands in front of her. Now what was she doing?

She stood that way for a meng, and suddenly the viewscreen went blank, to be filled a crell later with the head and shoulders of a massive bronze-skinned human man wearing an expression that was mostly stern, but slightly amused. He opened his mouth, and Roboak knew that never before had a voice lent itself to Unilang that was a match for his. Not even one of the Supremes or the Empress had a voice as powerful as his. He imagined that if the great entity Sheook ever developed a physical voice, it would sound much the same.

"Welcome to my realm. I am Mithros, guardian of this place. Who are you that venture here?"

Those who could tear their gazes from Mithros turned them to Mindelan. Roboak felt shock explode in the back of his mind, for that was the most open he had ever seen her face. Joy, relief, and apprehension were all there, and there was a smile on her face. Granted, it was a small one, but it was a smile nonetheless.

"I am Ambassador Mindelan of the Devonille Regime Diplomatic Corps. This is Admiral Roboak," she gestured to the admiral, "my counterpart and the flag officer of the Devonille Regime Navy Sol Fleet, which escorts Refugee Fleet Terra One."

Brilliant yellow-gold eyes narrowed, and Roboak felt chills of fear course through his marrow. The ambassador had apparently said something to displease the guardian, but to his relief, he did not call her on it. Instead, he said "And what brings you into my realm, Lady Mindelan?"

Roboak resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Wonderful. The Mithros was as chivalrous as the Elder Age.

The ambassador was unfazed; apparently, she had encountered this sort of thing before. "A mission given to me by my superiors, Great Mithros. Some years ago, a world very similar to yours was attacked by the enemies of my allies. The inhabitants of that world, Terra, were human, as are the majority of the inhabitants of Mendari IV."

All conversation, respectfully quiet as it had been, stopped. Every single one of his officers joined Roboak in staring at Mindelan with varying degrees of visible shock. The admiral managed to restrained himself to widened eyes and flared throats. There were other humans in the universe? How? Where did they come from? Had the Terrans established an off-world colony? Why? Few were the races that felt the need to spread beyond their worlds of origin. And when?

But Mindelan was not a telepath, and the Kronean admiral did not voice is thoughts aloud, so his questions went unanswered. For now, leastways, he assured himself. They were still half a tiem from the fourth planet out.

Continuing, the human ambassador said, "My allies and their enemies have been at war for a very long time, Great Mithros. But Terra had no part in it. In fact, aside from a select few humans who no longer dwelled there, Terra was completely oblivious to the war. Unfortunately, those select few, for the most part, served my allies in high places, and have proven so successful in their positions that they have incurred the wrath and perhaps fear of the Deon Vaughnj.

"And so Terra was attacked, but no with conventional weapons (well, for the most part, anyway). Instead, the atmosphere was laced with a poison designed to give humans the most painful death possible. At the time of the attack, Terra's population was ten billion. We managed to evacuate ten million, only a thousandth of the population. The poison has shown no signs of fading or dissipating, and the Conellian system has quarantined to for six hundred years.

"In the three years since ("one and a half zneds," she added for the benefit of the flag bridge officers), the Terrans have mostly remained aboard transports in orbit around Davonsue. But a starship is no place for a human to live out his days, and Supreme Commander Stevan, a Terran herself and head of the United Devonille Regime Refugee Resources and Operations, would like for their descendents to have a place to call home until the Conellian system declares that Terra is once again safe for human habitation.

"Also, Mendari IV is the only other world in the known universe to have spawned human life, and the human race is the only one to have done so. That makes it especially unique, and the UDR as a whole would like to keep it safe. Until now, Mendari's greatest defense has been its relative obscurity. I say relative, because anyone who knows anything about the Takcha galaxy knows that only one of its systems produced life of any sort, and that the system was Praont. But no one knows the species, not even Makarvey Praont, who discovered it."

Mithros nodded. "I recall the explorer. We gave him quite a scare." His eyes twinkled merrily. "He was most adamant in assuring us he would do as we 'suggested' (and I use that word lightly, mind you) when we told him not to make known the identity of the inhabitants of our realm. As an added precaution, however, we refused to allow him to land on any world in our realm, and erased from his vessel's databanks anything that might suggest who they were when he left. That was long ago, however, even as we measure time; several starbirths."

Roboak nodded slightly in understanding, even as inside he reeled. How casually this Mithros had answered one of universal history's greatest mysteries!

Makarvey Praont had been an avid Begearvin explorer murli ago. He had spent nearly three-fourths of his lengthy life (by Begearvin standards, anyway – he had only lived three hundred zneds) traveling from system to system to galaxy to galaxy. Fearing little, like most of his race, he had landed on planets sporting species and environments as varied as Heronaie's only-recently-turned toxic wastelands and tripods, Sheook's lush forests and arachnoids (not to mention Sheook itself), and the gas giant' Veirkrobae's nitrogen-breathing, peace-living, child-like Veirkros, very similar to the fairies and sprites of human mythology. He was accredited with discovering and exploring more galaxies and planets outside the giant Sovereign Galactic Kingdom of Reiyshel'bahgehn than any other single creature.

He had been a studious note-taker, and had always gone to great lengths to find out everything there was to know about any given planet, system, or galaxy. Many of his notes were still referred to by scientists and historians alike. They had been so numerous, and so accurate, especially given the technology he'd had to work with, that the Universal Association of Scholars and Historians had declared them a universal treasure, making the already well-known explorer a household name. It wasn't often that the UASH declared the works of a mere mortal creature a universal treasure. So widespread was his renown that things had been named after him left and right, not the least of which being the Makarvey Galaxy, his first recorded discovery, and the Praont system, his last.

Scholars had been baffled by it when the explorer had published his notes on the system over nine hundred eighty thousand years ago, and remained so to this day. His notes on every other system in Takcha, as well as those regarding the galaxy as a whole, had been overflowing with information, belying his excitement over and fascination with the galaxy that defied the laws of known physics. And nothing could have concealed his wonder and thrill when he realized that a system in that galaxy had spawned life. But when he actually reached the Praont system, his notes had become uncharacteristically brief, filled to the brim with speculation, and noting at all about the system's inhabitants had been revealed. Oh, he hadn't skimped in the slightest when it came to describing the system and its planets – there were an unusual seventeen planets, twelve of them gas giants, with two asteroid belts separating the rocky planets from the giants – by he hadn't even hinted as to which planet was home to the sentient species. He had made a brief reference to some group of great beings that Roboak realized must have been the system guardians, but it was only to confirm that it was from them he had procured the rights to the tahshak planets. (By law so ancient no one could remember who had written it (though many, Roboak included, suspected that it had been the Jek'takni, longest-living race, rarely seen nowadays), the worlds and resources of a galaxy belonged to the sentient races of that galaxy. The consequences of breaking the law were terrible: a race had done so, one, long before Praont's time – nothing at all was left of their civilization. It had been completely eradicated from the universe in less than seven suuths, and no one knew what had done the eradicating)

But nothing concerning the indigenous species could be found, and they could not go to investigate on their own, for Praont had gone straight to the Most Noble High Lord of Reiyshel'bahgehn and requested that the system be made off-limits to all. Curious and somewhat amused by the explorer's insistence, the Lord had agreed, and the Praont system had become restricted. Recently, some governments had questioned the validity and authority of the decree, as the Universal Kingdom's nearest borders were over three super clusters away, and Reiyshel'bahgehn had laid no claim on the system, but Most Noble High Lord Lia'nore'vat'i, many times the successor to the Lord who'd originally made the decree, had stood firm upon the Lord's decision, and no one dared face his wrath, for Reiyshel'bahgehn had been the most powerful universal government since time out of mind, spanning over three thousand galaxies. Empress Cecone herself had assured Roboak that they had Reiyshel'bahgehn's permission to be there, but it still made him uneasy.

He shook himself slightly and brought himself back to the conversation in time to hear Mindelan say "-a long time indeed for we mortal creatures. But the Empress and her Supremes are uneasy having it as open to attack as it is, especially if the Imperium were to find it. None of them truly believe they would defy Reiyshel'bahgehn so openly as to attack it, but they have not always acted sanely in regards to humans in the past.

"So they have decided to kill two birds with one stone, as it were. With your permission, they would like to establish a Terran colony here, and leave the Sol Fleet in-system to protect it." She stopped speaking, and Roboak was startled to realize she was actually done. Not that she was long-winded, but she certainly had a way with words, and he'd expected her to use a few more of them on the actual proposal. Yet at the same time as she had a way with words, she could also be politely, diplomatically blunt, as she had just so aptly demonstrated.

The flag bridge was silent as they waited for Mithros's reply. As they did, Roboak ran the conversation back in his mind. Something the ambassador had said at the beginning, coupled with the thoughts he'd had before and during, had caught his attention. What had it been?

A single sentence ran through his head, and his blood ran cold. 'The inhabitants of that world, Terra, were human, as are the majority of the inhabitants of Medari IV.'

Hengemont Roboak was no fool. In fact, he was one of the more brilliant field strategists in the DRN. He knew it wouldn't be long before he was pulled from the field and put to work in an office dirtside somewhere, but for now he was here, in the Praont System, serving as Ambassador Kel Mindelan's flag officer.

Now he turned the powerful mind hiding behind the gentle, somewhat simple-looking face on the situation before him, and swallowed the urge to curse as it became ridiculously clear. The N/A on her personnel file; the secrecy surrounding the natives of the system; the ambassador's own comments.

She was from Mendari IV.

The simplicity of the conclusion was almost infuriating, although it was ironic and amusing at the same time. Where else could she be from (he pointedly ignored the fact that he'd asked himself that exact same question when he hadn't known)? And how else would she know that the people of the Praont System, whose identity scholars had speculated over for tens of thousands of zneds, were human?

The guardian spoke, his grand voice forcing him away from his revelation. Roboak struggled to pay attention.

"We are aware of the conflict you call the Separatist War." Roboak hid a wince. Conflict? Was that what he called it? If he called a three-thousand-zned war a conflict, he shuddered to think of what he called a war. "We are also aware of the poisoning of your Terra. Its sickness can be felt by all our kind. It will not be cleansed in a mere six hundred years." The Kronean did shudder then, ever so slightly, and a chill ran up and down his spines. The guardian's voice was sad, first and foremost, but it also bleak, grim, and very, very dark. He nearly pitied any Heronian who wandered unknowing into Mithros's grasp.

Almost.

Mithros gathered himself and cocked his head thoughtfully at Mindelan. "You would not need the fleet, Lady Mindelan," he said almost conversationally. "None may enter, leave, or affect our realm without our knowledge and permission. The humans would be quite safe here."

For a brief moment, Roboak entertained the entirely random notion that Mithros was referring to himself using the royal 'we,' but dismissed it quickly. He'd referred to himself in the first person singular before. He glanced at Mindelan, and his earplates tightened in a frown. The woman had donned her mask again when she'd begun her speech/explanation, but this one seemed more effective that the one she used on him. Even so, he'd seen something flicker in her eyes for the briefest of instants, something dark and angry. And painful. But only briefly, and he had to take a crell to tell himself that yes, he had seen that, it had been there. But Mindelan, ever the diplomat, did not comment on it.

She said instead, "They may not be necessary, Great Mithros." Here Roboak had to fight not t show his shock. Even he, as difficult as he found it to read human faces and voices, could hear the tiniest of emphases she had put on the 'Great Mithros,' an emphasis that sounded just barely sarcastic. What in space? "But they would reassure the Empress and her Supremes. They do not know or understand your power."

"If that is what they wish, the fleet may remain." The guardian answered the ambassador civilly, but the admiral had a sinking feeling that he had caught the slight. Oddly enough, he seemed saddened by it, not angered. He stored that away for further thought.

"The Terrans may stay, then?" Mindelan asked.

Mithros nodded. "The Terrans may stay."

xxxxx

Yes, I know I'm not supposed to put answers to reviews here, but the reviews I have answers for came before that particular stipulation. After this, however, I'll be using the reply feature for everyone except the anonymous reviews.

tortall princess: I'm glad you think it grows on you. I've personally loved and hated it at various stages of its development, but I suppose every author feels that way about her work at some point in time…I'm not sure brilliance is the word I'd use, but I'm glad you think so!

Poppin: Yeah, sorry it's taken so long. But we're finally getting back on track. There may still be a while between updates, but I'm working on it. In regards to the glossary, I tried putting things in piecemeal, chapter by chapter, with the original story, but then I couldn't find it all myself. Yes, it's a reference, but I think I'll just leave it where it is for now, and when the story's done, move it to the end of the story, like Ms. Pierce does with her glossaries. Good idea about the note at the beginning, though…no need to apologize. I'm glad you think I'm talented, and I hope I don't disappoint you in the future!

DOMLUVR4EVER: Well, she's back in the system, and should be back on the planet by the next chapter, but back to where Tortall knows she's back? That's quite a ways yet…(if you want a sneak peek of sorts, check out the original, Ruthless)

For everyone else who reviewed (maydayp, Commander Rhade, and Desatre), thanks much, and I hope you keep reading!

Rhys