Author's Note: Okay, I admit that two back-to-back stories about Storm priestesses is perhaps excessive. But I think you'll agree that Dare and Olivia are very different women, with very different approaches to how they do their respective jobs.

Please note that I've successfully managed to jumble what should be a simple time-line. This story actually occurs before 'To Serve the Lady of Storms'.

OATH-MAKER

My name is Dare and there are some who call me a demigoddess. After all, Lady Ororo herself is my distant ancestor.

As is perhaps inevitable, I serve as one of the Storm Lady's priestesses. Perhaps I would have been happier if I had chosen a different path, but my family has certain expectations of me, and I have done my best to honor them.

Standing outside the central chamber of the temple in which I serve, I took a deep breath before entering. I had to speak with the High Priestess, and that would almost certainly not be a pleasant conversation.

The high priestess of our temple serves the Lady of Blades. As such, the central chamber is stark and martial in nature, but not without a certain taciturn splendor. A sheet of finely polished chain-mail covered the altar. The temple blade - an ancient katana - was suspended from the wall behind the altar. A silver lightning bolt of Lady Ororo and the stylized ruby flame symbol of Lady Grey flanked the weapon.

Priestess Carol was kneeling before the altar, obviously deep in prayer. She was an older Folk woman, with gray crowding out the almost vanished yellow of her hair. Time had lined her face, but she still carried herself as if she were years younger than her actual age.

The Folk are so short-lived compared to the other peoples. It's difficult to see the ones you care for age, weaken, and die after a mere seventy-or-so years of life. Meanwhile, it is not unusual at all for a Wilder to see their second century. The Blood would live even longer, but their violent lives sees many of them cut down while quite young.

I took a seat in one of the half-dozen pews. The temple's central chamber is actually quite small. Once, it had been the entire temple, but over the centuries the Alban temple has grown to engulf the single room of the original structure.

"What is it?" Priestess Carol asked without turning to face me. She must have heard me enter.

"James has requested that I visit him and perform a service," I replied carefully. "With your permission, I will take a leave of absence."

I could see Priestess Carol's shoulders tighten angrily.

"I am well and truly sick of that man," Priestess Carol growled as she sat next to me in the pew.

Feeling like an error-prone first-year acolyte, I bobbed my head politely. "Yes, Honored Lady." If I were standing, I suppose I would have curtsied.

"Dare, you are one of the brightest stars of your generation," she fumed at me. "I have the highest hopes for your future. But you - we! - just can't seem to get shut of that... that... that..."

She was plainly at an irritated loss for words.

"Asshole?" I suggested. I didn't really agree with that, but Carol needed to vent her anger.

"Yes!" she exploded. "Precisely! That asshole James! He is a disaster on two legs! Wherever he goes, chaos follows! Heresy thrives! Temples are violated! Demons appear! Alien gods manifest! Abominations are conceived! The true Phoenix stirs! Formerly sane and sober priestesses throw themselves at his feet! There is simply no end to the madness that surrounds him! And now you tell me that he asks a favor!? WELL FUCK HIM!"

Among other responsibilities, Blade Priestesses tend to the spiritual needs of warriors. The Blade priestesses are perhaps the bravest of the Temple sisters, but the ways of common samurai and soldiers have a tendency to rub off on them. As a result, priestesses of the Bladed Lady can be somewhat... outspoken.

"Yes, Honored Lady," I said again, "but perhaps not everything was his fault..."

"Do not defend him in my presence," Priestess Carol told me coldly. "I enjoy the purity of the rage I feel whenever I think about James. You will not take that from me."

I took another deep breath. "Yes, Honored Lady. However, I feel I must do as James has asked."

"And why the blazes should you travel all the way to... where? Nyagra or thereabouts? What does he want from you?"

"He has asked that I give the Storm-oath to a group of lords."

That made Carol pause. The Storm-oath is a serious matter.

"Wait..." she suddenly exclaimed. "Nyagra has a temple and certainly should have a priestess of Lady Ororo. And for that matter, one of James' wives is a Storm-Hammer! So why must you to travel all the way to Nyagra to administer an oath?"

"I'm not sure," I admitted, "but I don't think we have much choice." Then I plucked a letter from my robes and opened the crinkling parchment.

"This is from James," I told Priestess Carol. "He asks me to deliver the oath. He also says that he knows of no temple that better serves the three goddesses than ours. And that the priestess who you have trained and nurtured here are among the finest he has ever encountered."

I handed her James' letter.

Priestess Carol's eyesight was not as good as it once was, so she had to hold the letter at arm's length. However, I could see her eyes track back and forth as she read what James had written. When she was done, she lowered the letter and closed her eyes.

"I hate that man," she said softly. "Still, if nobody else has seen this letter..."

I made a helpless motion with my hands. "James also sent a copy to Lord Alban. And Lord Alban is obviously honored. He has nailed his copy of the letter to the gate of his manor for all to see."

Seeker James - although James no longer used that title - is an honored name in the Huds valley. It was he who called the Blood and the allied peoples to war against a Dark Elf invasion. He and his companions fought in that struggle from beginning to end. And James eventually killed Malekith with his own claws. Praise from him would exalt our temple both in the eyes of the local people and throughout the region. The benefits of that would be huge. Especially for a small, rural, temple on the fringes of civilization.

Likewise, Lord Alban was a most pious Blood who has done his best to support the Temple - both the larger institution and our humble little shrine. For James to write such words about the temple of Lord Alban's village would be a matter of great personal pride to Lord Alban.

To not help James would be decidedly awkward.

"He's trapped us," I said quietly.

"I hate that man," Priestess Carol repeated. Her eyes were still closed.

It was just after sundown. High Priestess Carol and I were standing in the temple courtyard. I had a small pack strapped to my back. Otherwise, I wore a comfortable pair of walking boots and a specially-cut traveling robe. My hair was firmly tied back in a long ponytail.

"Avoid looking James in the eyes," Priestess Carol told me worriedly. "Be careful to not actually touch him - not even accidentally. And never be alone with him."

It was a struggle not to smile. "Honored Lady - Carol - I don't think James has some strange power of seduction."

"You never know," she told me nervously. "He's already bedded and wedded Emma and Olivia. And then there's that Elf minstrel who's also his wife. And now I hear he's taking concubines! There have always been tales of how the Old One was unaccountably attractive to women - and James was a Seeker of the Old One for an impossibly long time. Who knows what secrets he has learned? It's wise to be suspicious."

"I've met him before," I pointed out, "and I managed not to immediately leap into his bed."

Carol paused, and then nodded her head. "True, but I don't want to lose another priestess to him. Be careful."

"I'll keep my legs together," I promised with as straight a face as I could manage.

"See that you do," Carol said sternly. Then she got up on her toes and gave me a motherly kiss on the forehead.

After that, Carol retreated back to the cover of the courtyard shrine. The guards at the gate also took cover. Otherwise, by Carol's order, the courtyard was empty.

Looking skyward - into the star-strewn vastness of Lady Ororo's airy realm - I opened my arms in invitation and took a moment to focus my thoughts.

There was a sudden hammer of almost tornadic wind. And I was thrown into the sky.

Laughing in pure joy, my arms and legs splayed to catch the winds in the vanes in my robe, I reoriented myself. Below me, I caught a glimpse of Carol. She had a lantern in one hand and was waving at me with the other.

I waved back. Then, riding a warm zephyr, I twirled about and swooped towards the west.

Over the last few years, the Lady of Storms had seen fit to allow me the power of flight. Why I have been blessed in such a manner, I do not know. The gift of flight - to actually be allowed to ride Lady Ororo's winds - is a tremendous sign of the Lady's favor. I cannot help but feel unworthy.

Using the north star as a guide, I darted off to the north-west. After an hour or so, I flew over the dimly lit bulk of the town of Syra. Eventually I found the moonlit silver vastness of the Ont Sea and began racing along its southern shore. Every now and then, I could see the bright lanterns of boats below me.

Somewhere east of Roche, a dark mass began following me. I gave it a flash of lightning to warn it away. It veered off and I never got a clear look. Whatever it was, it vanished into the night, but I watched my back carefully after that. There had been reports of dragons hunting the waters of the Central Seas.

In terms of aerial navigation, the town of Nyagra is rather easy to find. It was first light when I saw - and heard! - the legendary falls.

A white-winged Angel woman and her fledgling daughter - obviously amazed - intercepted me on my approach to town. They paced me for a while, but were heavily buffeted by the winds that kept me aloft and were eventually forced to break away.

The little girl looked so thrilled when we exchanged goodbye waves.

The approach to the Nyagra temple was a bit tricky since there are several tall buildings in the area. However, I managed to avoid killing myself. Almost as good, I also avoided landing flat on my face when I finally touched down in the temple courtyard. I quietly thanked the goddess for allowing me that dignity as, exhausted from my flight, I stumbled to a nearby stone bench. Then a temple guard dashed into the whirl of my receding winds, put a strong arm around my shoulders, and helped me sit down. Even better, once I was settled, he noticed how wind-beaten I was and handed me his canteen.

The mistress of the Nyagra temple was a Flame Priestess named Rachel. She had the decency to wait until I caught my breath and had something to eat before putting in an appearance. She found me sitting cross-legged on the cobblestones of the courtyard. The guards were sharing their breakfast with me and had found a worn, clean, blanket for me to sit on. Some might consider that breaking my fast with the guards was undignified for a woman of my station, and I certainly could have found a fancier meal inside the temple itself. However, the simple, open-handed, generosity of the guards was difficult to refuse.

As Rachel approached, we all got to our feet. I hurriedly finished chewing some toasted bread and swallowed.

"Priestess Dare, welcome to Nyagra," Rachel said to me. Her tone struck me as even, but not particularly pleased.

Around us, the guards quickly gathered up the blanket and the food and then silently bowed and vanished. I began to wonder just how happy the Nyagra temple was. Back in Alban, Priestess Carol was always greeted with polite correctness, but genuine warmth, by our guards and servants.

"It's a pleasure, Honored Lady," I replied after a formal bow.

"Lady Emma has been in communication with me," Rachel continued. "Lord James has sent an escort. I understand they will take you to the town of Lock. That's most of a day's journey. And they should be arriving soon."

I managed not to sigh. It would be much faster to simply fly, but not everyone who lives bound to the earth understands that. And besides, some aspects of my presence shouldn't be revealed until the proper time.

In my younger days, I'd learned the trick of sleeping in the saddle. I hoped I could still manage it.

I recognized the commander of the escort that was to take me to Lock. We'd met before.

"Jessica," I said with a polite nod, "it's good to see you again."

With the supple grace of her kind, Jessica bowed so deeply that her not-very-long blonde hair almost brushed the ground.

"Honored Lady," she said - granting me a position and title that I hadn't yet earned, "it's an honor."

"And how is Gant doing?" I asked as we began walking over to the horses. A small band of samurai and archer auxiliaries waited for us. They were the main body of my escort.

Jessica seemed surprised by my question. For my part, I'll never forget how that bull-sized Troll fought so hard to keep me safe against Dormammu's demons. I owe him a debt and I'm unsure how I will ever repay it.

"He's recovering from a bad fight," Jessica replied, "but our medicae says he'll be fine. Trolls can take a lot of damage and Gant is even tougher than most of his kind."

Jessica politely held my horse's bridle as I mounted.

"I understand you have become Lord James' concubine," I said to her. "Congratulations."

I meant that. James was a strong, loyal, and generous man - what an earlier age would have called "a good catch". Priestess Carol's poor opinion of him had never struck me as particularly fair.

The smile that appeared on Jessica's face was bright enough. If I had to guess, I'd say she was honestly happy.

"Thank you," she replied.

Jessica is a woman with a hollow past. It's always good when such a person finally finds a home.

Lock is like most villages on the frontiers - it is almost more of a fortification than a village. High stone and timber walls were everywhere. Watchtowers loomed. Samurai on guard duty kept an eye out in all directions.

Actually, my home of Alban is much the same.

As we approached the village, I could see the standard-bearing encampments of more than a few Blood lords. This was the great meeting at which I was to give the Lady's oath.

My escort and I veered towards the small camp of Lord Ashe. James' standard was impressive - the ancient black 'X' of the Wilder, within a wheel that is itself the sigil of the Crippled Lord. When I saw it, I suddenly went cold. For a moment, it was as if I could hear the whisper of ancient ghosts.

James and Emma left the largest tent and approached us as Jessica and I dismounted from our horses.

"Hello, Dare," James said. Then he paused and looked at me more closely.

"You look tired," he continued. He seemed genuinely concerned. Honestly, I've never been sure about James' actual attitude towards me. Perhaps, when we first me, we spent too much time alternating between cooperation and verbal dueling. That set the tone for a confused relationship.

James is tall and slender; an older Blood with gray hair and piercing eyes. Yet despite his apparent age, he was strong and fit. It still seemed strange to see him in the armor and trappings of a Blood lord, rather than the buckskin and bone-tooth necklace of a Seeker. Also, he seemed oddly off-balance without a Seeker's staff in his hand.

Emma was by his side. With a smile, she took me in her arms and gave me a kiss that was not quite as chaste as the one Carol had given me. For one thing, it was on my lips. It also lingered a bit beyond what many would see as appropriate.

Emma used to be an agent of the Graymalkin - and perhaps still was. The Graymalkin are a secret order among the Fire priestesses. They serve the interests of the Temple as our spies and psychic guardians. They certainly have other agendas and obligations, and it was entirely possible that I didn't know them all. That thought sometimes keeps me awake at night.

Once upon a time, I was Emma's cover at the Alban temple. She posed as a common servant - specifically as my handmaiden. On the first day she was assigned to me, she insisted that helping me bathe was also a necessary part of her cover. That was reasonable since, after all, it was an expected duty of a handmaiden.

The things she then proceeded to do to me in that bath...

Afterwards, I asked her if that was also part of her cover.

"No," she told me with a smug smile. "It was just fun."

I drove those thoughts from my head.

"James, you owe me an explanation," I said as mildly as I could. "I've come a long way to perform a service that could have been done by a local priestess. Why?"

James shrugged and then gave me his typical wintry smile. "It's simple - I can think of nobody better. I need you for this, Dare. But in the meantime, you need to get some rest."

I couldn't argue with his last words.

By tradition, a Storm-oath is given when the sun is at its highest. Some say that is to prevent anyone from using shadows to hide from the Lady's sight. Since it was long past the noon hour when I arrived, that meant I had a chance to get a night's sleep, which was something I desperately needed.

My night was filled with odd dreams. In one dream, Ororo and a woman from across the western ocean were dressed in unlikely outfits of dark leather as they leaped across the rooftops of a strange and titanic city. In another, Lady Ororo and Lady Jean sat together on a sunny beach, clad only in scantily elegant strips of cloth. Their feet were kissed by the surf as they quietly talked. In the third dream, a nude Lady Ororo was in the arms of the Old One - except sometimes his face was like the ancient tribes of the southwest, while at other times, his face was black.

Finally, I saw her holding hands with a huge man, blond of hair and with blue eyes. He wore armor and a red cloak, and there was a war-hammer in his belt.

Perhaps, near the end of that last vision, Ororo and Thor kissed. It is best not to consider such things. A priestess of the Storm Lady ought not to dream of heresy.

Late the next morning, Jessica helped me get ready. She was startlingly good with makeup - as good as any fully-trained Nyack ornatrix. However, at my request, she kept the amount of makeup to a minimum. Afterwards, a glance in a hand mirror showed that Jessica had accomplished a great deal with very little.

"If you ever get tired of concubinage, there's a position for you at the Alban temple," I told her approvingly.

Jessica just smiled.

"How many lords are here?" I asked her. That would be handy to know.

"Sixteen," Jessica replied as she ran her fingers through my hair. "Six hold this part of the frontier against the Creed. The others are from west of here. In between them, they control the lands from Nyagra to the frontier, and all around Lock."

"Are there any regional lords who haven't consented to this?"

Jessica shook her head. "No. Honestly, I don't know how James managed to get them all to agree, but it was necessary. We had to make sure that the lords directly involved wouldn't be attacked by a fellow lord while their samurai are committed against the Creed."

I nodded. "Are they all Blood males?"

"Thirteen male Blood - including James. Two female Blood. One male Redeye."

That made me chuckle. "That Redeye must be one tough bastard."

Jessica rolled her eyes. "You have no idea, milady. And he was the hardest one to convince to take this oath. He really doesn't like his neighbors."

I shrugged. "Nobody has the same commitment to killing Creed as the Blood."

Jessica made an agreeing sound, then she frowned as she once again considered my hair. "Milady, are you sure you want to leave this unbound? And are you sure you want to be barefoot? If you don't want to wear your traveling boots, I can loan you a pair of sandals."

"No, thank you, Jessica. I need to look a bit wild. My appearance is part of the effect."

Then I got to my feet. "It's almost time."

Jessica nodded and escorted me out of the tent. The two samurai guarding the tent looked at me in surprise. The older one quickly flicked his eyes away. The younger one kept staring.

Then the older samurai growled and slapped the younger one on the back of his helmet. "Grow up!" he snarled at the youth.

Actually, I wasn't angry with the younger Blood. The gown I wore was diaphanous and didn't leave a lot to the imagination. The effect that has on men is quite calculated. It wasn't the youngster's fault that he was reacting just as I wanted.

"The lords have gathered, milady," the older samurai told me - with just the barest hint that maybe I should get on with it. As near as I could tell, his eyes were focused on the center of my forehead. The younger one was wisely looking at everything except me. Beside me, Jessica was trying not to smile.

I glanced up at the sky. The blood of my divine ancestor and mistress knows the cycles of this world with great accuracy. It was just a minute or two before noon.

Focusing my will, I began gathering a storm.

I could feel it rumble into existence as far winds danced. To the west, clouds bulked up and turned dark. As I watched critically, they began racing towards us. The scent of rain was suddenly in the air.

"Get back," I told the others as I walked into the wide open space between the circle of tents.

The first instinct of the two samurai was to keep close to me. In response to my order, they fell back. Jessica wisely stayed where she was.

Then, in a howl of grass and dust, surrounded by a whirlwind, I launched myself into the sky.

Below me, Jessica was laughing in delight. The older samurai looked amazed. I'm pretty sure the younger one was peering up my robes. Since I was wearing nothing underneath them, he was getting an eyeful.

As I watched, the older samurai smacked the younger one to the ground.

I couldn't help but let out a peal of laughter.

There is a shrine to Lady Ororo on the road that leads into Lock - I'd scouted it out earlier that morning. It was a tall and simple carving of stone, sinuously weaving as if it were fabric caught in the wind. That rather basic style is sometimes looked down upon in the modern age, but I've always admired it. Implication has a grace all of its own.

The lords were gathered near the shrine, all of them keeping some distance from each other. They were unaccompanied by samurai, advisors, family, or servants. As I arrived, they were all trying to keep an eye on each other without appearing to do so.

I fell from the sky, my robes swirling around my body. Then I landed atop the shrine itself. As my bare feet contacted the rough stone of the shrine, lightning theatrically flared behind me.

As a rule, subtlety is lost on the Blood. I saw no reason to even try.

I waited until the thunder finished growling, then I nodded to my assembled audience.

At first, the lords were startled - except for James, of course. Then all sixteen of the assembled lords gave me the traditional cross-armed bow. However, they weren't really bowing to me. Rather, they were showing the appropriate respect to what I represented.

The lords were a motley crew, yet still similar. They all wore armor, although in different styles. None carried weapons because, after all, they were themselves weapons. Honestly, I had a hard time telling the two women from the men. Even the Redeye - a man who would have been handsome if a scowl wasn't apparently a permanent fixture on his face - had about him the same aura of impending violence as the rest.

But actually, the true similarity between them was a matter of the soul - or perhaps the lack of one. To seek lordship means you accepted the fact that you would kill to achieve it. You also accept that someday the position will kill you.

The men and women facing me had all fought their way to lordship. And they would keep fighting until the day they died. I was in the presence some of the most deadly people on the continent.

"What are the conditions of your oath?" I asked without preamble. The Temple has trained me so that I can project my voice without shouting. By subtly manipulating the atmosphere around me, I can augment even that.

This was Lord Lock's holding, so he stepped forward and replied.

"The Creed plague the land between here and Roche," he said in a surprisingly mild tone. "We will destroy them. To serve that holy cause, we will become as brothers and sisters. If one of us is attacked, we are all attacked. There will be no violence between us. Disagreements will be settled with words, not claws. The three eldest of us: Crowe, Ashe, and myself, will arbitrate any disputes. We pledge to make our decisions with justice and without favor."

Then he paused for a long moment before finishing.

"We ask Lady Ororo to hear our oath."

"Let the Old One's will be done," James and some of the Blood lords suddenly said in quiet unison. The Old One's great and final command to his children is to destroy the Creed. Apparently the long delay in cleansing the region had not set well with some.

I wasn't surprised. And I could have sworn that more than one lord was so moved that they had to blink away tears.

"We serve his will," Lock added softly.

After Lock finished, I scanned those before me.

"Do you all agree?" I asked.

There was a rumble of assent. I looked at each lord in turn, making sure I met each individual's gaze - which was tricky with the Redeye. They each nodded as I did.

"I ask again," I continued. "And know that Lady Ororo hears your words. Do you all agree to this oath?"

There was another rumble of ayes. It was louder than before.

I took a deep breath before continuing. "And I ask thrice. Do any of you dissent? Speak plainly now or hold your tongue until the day you enter your grave."

There was long and edgy silence. A few lords glanced speculatively at other lords. I let the silence stretch on for several long seconds.

Then, raising my hands and face upwards, I wordlessly called upon the goddess.

Behind me, from the storm that now dominated the western sky, there was a mighty crack of lightning. A bright flare of light briefly illuminated the lords. They shifted uneasily.

And then there was another bolt of lightning - followed almost instantly by another.

Bolt after bolt began to fall. Within seconds, the western sky was ablaze with light. Thunder cracked deafeningly as the gust-front swirled past and we felt the first driving, wind-blown, drops of rain. It was an amazing and uncanny sight. Even the hardened lords standing before me were obviously impressed.

The lords squinted into the light. It was all I could do to not turn and watch.

That wasn't my lightning. I didn't have - would never have - the power to make a horizon rage from one end to the other. Rather, it was the doing of Lady Ororo herself. She was making her presence known as she looked into the hearts of the assembled lords and judged them. That part of the Storm-oath can be quite dangerous. My great-so-many-times grandmother doesn't like being lied to, and she is not averse to letting her fury be known.

Cold rain began falling in earnest as ball lightning appeared out of nowhere and started to slowly dance around us. Sparks flared between the lords - skipping from armored form to armored form. The howling wind almost shoved me from my perch atop the shrine and I threw up a quick counter-wind to keep me in place. The assembled lords, illuminated by the strange light that flared between them, were forced to lean into the tempest. They gritted their teeth as the energies swirling about them sparked and burned.

That was why James had asked me to administer the oath. Any Storm Priestess can perform the bare bones of the ceremony. But I'm not boasting when I say that the Lady of Storms seems to become particularly interested when I preside over the Storm-oath.

"Grandmother," I whispered to the sky, my arms and legs shaking with effort and fear, "we are blessed by your presence, but now is the time for mercy. Make your judgment and leave us."

There was a frightening moment as the storm seemed to ignore me.

Then the lightning decreased and the thunder moderated. The rain gentled and the strange energies surrounding us slowly faded away.

The lords began to stir. I was shaking with reaction. James ran up, grabbed me by the waist, and gently helped me down from the top of the shrine. The wet grass was slick under my feet and I wrapped an arm around James to make sure I didn't fall.

It took me several tries before I could speak. I was shivering from the cold rain.

"The goddess has heard your words," I rasped out to the assembled lords, "and she knows your souls."

"She accepts your oath, but know that she is watching."

Their faces set and grim, the lords bowed. Again, it was not to me.

I was back in my tent. My soaked gown had been replaced with a marvelously soft and warm blanket. My wet hair was wrapped in a cloth. Emma was sitting next to the cot where I lay. She was holding a cup of strong wine and every now and then helped me take a drink. Jessica was rubbing my feet. James was doing the same to my hands. It was, to say the least, a luxurious experience.

"I should give the oath more often," I said - perhaps a bit smugly. Hopefully the goddess would forgive me a moment of pride and arrogance.

Emma gave me an angry and worried look that essentially asked if I was a damn fool, but said nothing aloud. Jessica obviously wanted to do the same, but our respective social stations made that impossible. James just seemed amused. Then Emma handed me the wine cup as she stood up and impudently put an image into my mind. Back when she was pretending to be a simple handmaiden, the act of helping me get ready for bed had involved some very intense effort.

You can always trust Emma to bring you back down to earth.

Trying to hide the expression that appeared on my face, I sat up and quickly took a too sizable swallow of wine. Some trickled down my chin. Emma, smiling a bit archly, wiped it away with the sleeve of her gown.

"May I be alone?" I asked. I did my best to keep my tone polite. They were, after all, worried about me. I apparently had more friends than I realized. That's always a good thing to learn.

After some concerned questions, Emma, James, and Jessica left me.

*Let me know if you need anything,* Emma said mind-to-mind just before she walked out of the tent. Since it was Emma, that was more an order than a request.

*I will. Thank you,* I replied.

But at that moment, what I really wanted was another stiff drink. The wine jar was open on a small table. I refilled my cup. Getting shakily to my feet, I let the blanket wrapped around me fall to the ground. Then I walked over to the tent flap and opened it slightly.

Outside, the younger samurai heard that and looked in my direction. He glanced at my bare breasts, shot a wary look in what I assumed was the direction of the older samurai, and quickly shifted several steps off to the side so that I was out of his line of sight.

Off in distance, before a copse of trees, an ethereal figure formed from what seemed like a coalescence of wind and a swirl of loose twigs and leaves. Somehow, I had the impression of a pair of startlingly blue eyes gazing at me.

The temperature around me dropped.

I shivered, but it really wasn't because of the cold. I gave the blanket on the ground a yearning look, but I didn't pick it up. It wasn't my place to resist.

"I am not deliberately teasing that boy," I said defensively. That really wasn't a conversation I wanted to have.

The eyes - or whatever they were - seemed to gaze skeptically at me. And it got colder.

"I do enjoy his interest," I admitted as white mist drifted from my mouth. "A priestess can live an isolated life. And perhaps I'm jealous of how Emma has found something else."

The temperature rose. I could no longer see my breath.

"Grandmother, you were most impressive today," I added seriously. "Thank you."

I could feel my grandmother's smile - and the temperature edged up a bit more.

And then she was gone.