The wooden bench was hard and uncomfortable, but Azalel had experienced worse at the hands of the desks at school, and was relatively relaxed. All around her, various people bustled about and opposite of her sat Christopher and Dana Routhe, who stared at her with apprehension.

It was a few days after her initial meeting with the Halloways. After she had convinced them to give her their phone number (what an odd communications device!) she had slept in the Holloway's house. Several days later, she managed to contact her parents at their house—only a mile away—and arrange a meeting. They insisted on doing a blood work test to see if her DNA matched theirs, and she hadn't argued: if they wanted to convince themselves that she was actually their birth child, it was fine with her.

She smiled at them. They looked away, uncertain.

They weren't really that interesting to look at. Christopher was slightly potbellied, had streaks of gray hair in with the brown, brown eyes, and a slack face. Dana had blue eyes, blonde hair, and a worried countenance. Azalel had obviously gotten her looks from Christopher—she couldn't bring herself even to think "father." She had only one father, and he was back on her homeworld.

A doctor in a long white overcoat stepped out of one of the offices. "Well," he said, looking up at them. He had a wide mouth and friendly face, with gentle gray eyes and hair. "Christopher and Dana Routhe, meet Victoria Routhe, your daughter."

The couple went rigid. The turned to look at Azalel, who smiled at them again. "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Routhe," she said pleasantly.

"But how?" Dana whispered. "How have… where have…" she stared at Azalel.

"I'll explain everything," she promised. "But later. Somewhere more private."

"Our home," Christopher said immediately. Dana looked at him quickly. "But… I think you should know… you have a brother now. He's only seven years old; his name is Doran."

"Doran." She tasted the name. "Doran and Victoria Routhe, son and daughter of Christopher and Dana Routhe. I think that's wonderful."

They traded glances again. "You… you do?"

"Oh, absolutely," she said happily. "I've always been an only child; I've often wondered what it'd be like to have a sibling. Well, Tolar's always been like my brother, and George was almost my brother, but…" she noticed she was babbling and went fluorescent red. "Sorry."

Again they traded glances. Azalel heaved an inward sigh. How in the world could her parents be so meek and frightened?

"May I meet him?" she asked instead, politely. "Maybe go to your house? We have a lot to talk about."

"Well," Dana said softly, "I… that is, we… we called the police."

Azalel froze. "Why?"

"You were kidnapped. We wanted them to… maybe try and track down the person who kidnapped you."

"Kidnapped me?" Azalel said, shocked. "You saw what happened. You were there! Don't you remember?"

But they were shaking their heads. "You were kidnapped," Dana said stubbornly. "There was a man down by the dock and he took you away in a boat."

Now it was Azalel who shook her head. "I don't think so, but we can talk it out with the police." What a strange word, and a strange notion. In her world, either you were a warrior or you were not. "Shall we go?"

"Wait," Dana said. "Chris, can I talk to you?" she whispered.

Christopher followed her obediently to the other end of the room. Putting one hand discreetly in the midst of her flowing brown hair, Azalel cupped one ear and leaned towards them. It wasn't much, but she could pick out a few words.

"—may be our daughter… we don't know her… years ago."

"It's Victoria. What… say? That she can't… with us?"

"No, I just think we… some more caution… all. What will we… Doran? Never told him… sister."

"The police will be waiting for us. We can bring her… and listen to her story."

"…suppose…"

Azalel rested her chin on her hand to cover the fact that she was eavesdropping and smiled at the couple as they came over. "All set?" she said brightly, and when they nodded, she stood. "Okay, let's go!"

The ride to the police quarters was a long, awkward silence. Azalel filled it with inane chatter, hiding away her confusion. Why were her parents acting like this? Wouldn't they have been happy to see her? Yes, they had ignored her as a child, but they could have loved her and wished for her safe return. Right?

As soon as they arrived they were bustled into the headquarters, where they were fussed over with signing thousands of reams of paper, and then Azalel was shut into a small room with a single camera and a little bald man with a mustache.

Her head whirling with it all, she stared at the man. "Hello," he said, extending his hand. She shook it dazedly. "My name is Matthias Salle. You can call me Matt."

"Azalel," she replied. "Just Azalel."

"Ah, yes. You caused quite a stir around here when you disappeared."

"I would expect so," she said dryly, surprising a laugh from him. "I would have also expected my parents to be a little happier that I came back."

"They are happy; they're very happy," Matt assured her. "They just need a little bit of time to adjust."

She shrugged. "That's not how it seemed to me."

"Oh? How so?"

"They seem too afraid to be my parents. Too jumpy."

He smiled. "You were always a bold child compared to them."

"I'm sorry? You knew me?"

"Yes. My wife's name is Patricia Salle, though we weren't married back then. Her maiden name was Boone."

"Boone. Miss Boone?"

"Do you remember her?"

"I remember she tried to keep me away from Father."

"Father?"

"Father. My father. Xarral."

His eyes narrowed. "Xarral?"

She frowned. Had she given too much away? No… of course not. Even if they knew who he was, they couldn't find him. "Yes."

He scribbled something down in his notebook. "Is he the one who kidnapped you?"

"I suppose you could say that." She thought a minute. "Although what he did wasn't so bad. I live with him now, and I'm very happy; I love him so much, and he loves me."

"Are you sure he loves you?"

She snapped her head up, mouth agape in shock.

"All right, all right. I had to ask. He kidnapped you, remember?"

"It wasn't for something awful, though! He saw I was unhappy, and he took me away to give me a better home."

"How do you know you were unhappy?"

"He told me."

"He may have been lying."

A stern line formed on Azalel's brow. "If you imply one more time—"

"I'm sorry. I'm an investigator; I have to ask these questions."

"You're making it seem like he's a horrible man!" Azalel cried. "If he was so selfish, why did he let me come here and meet my real parents?"

Matt sighed. "Victoria, what he did was illegal. It may not seem like that to you—"

"I know exactly what he did. He explained it to me in great detail how he came about finding me, and luring me to him, and taking me away. I know all about your court system and your laws. So don't lecture me." Her eyes bored into his. "And don't call me Victoria. My name is Azalel. He told me how he came about calling me that, too."

"Victoria—I mean, Azalel—"

"What do you really want to know? What are you alluding to?"

Matt shook his head. "I need to know exactly what happened."

"He left me notes by the river, stuck in the roots of a great tree. I wrote him back and left my letters there every night; every morning he had another there. That way we maintained contact for weeks before he took me. I don't know how we got around to it, but the police were involved, and I ran down to the dock. He took me away there."

Matt reached over and turned off the recorder. "Off the record."

Azalel's patience was wearing thin. "What?" she snapped.

He ignored the annoyance. "Down by the dock… this 'Xarral' didn't take you by boat, did he? I mean… I was there… but it's been so long. I'm beginning to second doubt myself." He took a deep breath. "All I remember was that there was a huge bright light… and there was something standing there. Someone. It completely ignored us, like we didn't matter. Then the light faded and it was gone… you were gone. Everything was back to normal." He stared at her. "Everyone came up with the story that there was a man in a boat and he took you away, and by time they got to the other side of the river he was gone with you. They've convinced themselves that that's really what happened. Is it what happened?"

She studied him. Could she trust him? Well, it didn't matter once again. If he told anybody they wouldn't believe him. "It's called a warp gate. They opened it when I was near, and Xarral, my father, came through to take me to his home. That's what the bright light was. And yes, it did happen. No, you can't open it back up by yourself."

A long, gusty sigh escaped from him, and he leaned back in his chair. "I knew it."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. I knew it wasn't a boat…"

They stayed in silence for a while longer, then Azalel asked, "Um… so, can I go now?"

"Hm? Oh… yes, I have all I need. Thank you for coming."

"Not like I had a choice," she muttered, and stood. "Good-bye."

"If you have time, stop by the house, will you? My wife would love to see you again."

"Yeah… okay." Azalel got up, still scowling, and went into the living room. Her parents jumped from their seats like they were stung and looked at her, Dana wringing her hands. Azalel walked right up to them and said firmly, "I would like to see my little brother now."

She herded them into the car and they drove silently. Azalel didn't try to fill in the silences this time; she was too annoyed.

The Routhe's house was huge, a testimony to their wealth, and as they rolled into the driveway Azalel saw a little boy playing in the front yard with an older woman. His nanny?

"Who's that?" she asked.

"Mrs. Halloway. You met her before."

"Oh, yes, I remember. I didn't see her face clearly." She peered closer—yes, that was Beth Halloway. She jumped out and trotted towards the two before the car stopped rolling. As she neared, the boy noticed her and stopped making a snowman to turn and look at her.

She stopped. For a long moment both she and Doran just stood there, scrutinizing each other. Then she crouched and beckoned, and the boy came closer to peer at her face. "Hello, Doran," she said quietly, "I'm your sister, Azalel."

"Az-a-lel," he repeated. "Are you Victoria?"

"My name used to be Victoria, bur someone changed it for me."

"Were you kidnapped?"

"Yes, I was."

"Did he hurt you?"

At the thought of Xarral hurting her, she laughed. "No, of course not."

"Why'd he kidnap you?"

She hesitated, biting her lip. "I wasn't happy here," she said finally.

"Why?"

"Dana and—Mom and Dad didn't pay attention to me much," she admitted. She was keenly aware of the three adults listening silently.

"Why not?"

Did she ask so many questions when she was that young? She shook her head. "They made a few mistakes when they were younger. But they're much better now, right?"

"Yeah," Doran said shyly. "Mom and Dad are nice."

"That's good. That's very good. What are you playing?" she asked.

He lit up. "I'm making a snowman," he said. "See?" he demonstrated by scooping up a handful of snow and packing it against the snowman enthusiastically.

She laughed, helping him pat more snow onto the mound. They began zealously forming a little white man. So intent was their play that they didn't notice when the parents moved to the shelter of the porch, watching them like hawks, not wanting to stand there the entire time but also not wanting to leave them alone.