A/N: If you want to look up the names, they'll be different but generally recognizable.

It's been a while, I know. Please forgive, and read!

Chapter 18: Non-place

Three women stood in a place that was not a place.

There were many places to be, of course. The gods had their Divine Realms. The dead have the Black Realm. Then there was the stewing pot at the center of it all where not only human resided but immortals and animals. But, of course, such matters never stay so clean cut. Some immortals chose to live in the Divine Realms. When it suited them, gods went to the Mortal Realms. The Black realm, as we know, is forever tied to the Mortal Realms and to see the Black god on earth is no surprise.

But these three women did not claim space on any of these realms unless they chose to, though it is often questioned how close they are to the Black Realm. Some believe they live there permanently since their work is somewhat related. Those who believe that do not truly understand that their work is related to everything big or small. It is woven throughout life, since that is the journey, and death, since that is where all mortals are destined. So then, is it safe to say that they are near the Mortal Realms? By no means! Gods meddle and they, too, take part in the web.

It is for all these reasons that the three women stand in a place that is not a place. Somewhere which is nowhere. The mind does not comprehend such things well so we shall say that this non-place might be perceived as a cave.

The three women were alike in only a very general way. They were all tall and in some way or other, pretty, if one could ignore where the eyes should be. But, again, to work with such information can be trying. So then, let us number and describe them.

The first has been introduced before. She was, as said, tall with small high breasts and long, thin legs. One might say skinny if she wasn't graceful. The hair, long and straight, was a peculiar shade of silver blue framing an oval face. Her long fingers curved around the head of a staff nearly as tall as her.

The second gave off a more feminine air. Her ample curves would never be hidden under any amount of clothing and certainly the robe she wore was no exclusion to the rule. Her hair went a little past her shoulders in soft curls in glistening silver, yellow. Yellow because the color itself could not be considered blond and gold was a far cry from that precise hue. Her face was gentle until the square, yet not overpowering, jaw.

The third seemed shorter due to the stocky lines she was made of. But those lines made her look stronger than the other two. Her hair was short, curling around her ears and at the back of her neck. The color was red. Not the red of rust or copper but a true red sown with pale gold. Her shoulders were a little more powerful and yet all that strength was set off but a soft heart shaped face. On the tough sash tied around her waist hung a large pair of scissors.

"Clora," The first one called the the second. Nothing more was said but it was like a conversation had passed.

Clora of the yellow hair stared up at the ceiling of their cave. The ceiling, however, could not be seen for above them was a network of threads so complex that were a mortal to lay eyes on it they might go mad. Though no mortal would ever see this non-place. The ceiling was a network of criss-crossing threads. Where one ended and began was indiscernible. If one stared hard enough or was one of the few that trembled on the edge of insanity, they might pretend that each of those threads was its own twisting and touching others.

But, that would be complicated and take far too much time. It would be easier to look and see something that resembled a sheet. Unlike a sheet or any piece of cloth for that matter, the threads on this one would not be uniform. If it were a sheet one might poke a hole through any part of it because it was not so simple as weaving.

Clora raised her hand and one single, solitary thread began to glow. The one thread came off of another and zigged-zagged, twisted back, zoomed forward and took a sharp left...it went on.

"That one, Lachais?" Clora asked in a throaty voice.

Lachais' expression did not change. "Something is wrong, I can sense it."

"We all sense it," Clora nodded. "We know what it is."

"There is something else," Lachais looked up at the threads, focusing in on the glowing one. Her blue hair slid off her shoulders to hang in a curtain down her back. "Something that is hanging on past its time."

She stretched farther than any body should be able to and stared at the one thread with eyeless pits. Woven throughout the thread was one fiber, one single fiber, that was out of place. "Here it is."

"Should we fix it?" The red-haired one asked holding up the scissors.

"No, Atro, to end it would be to end a life that has not yet reached its end. We will wait and hope Arra will listen." Lachais compressed until she reached her regular size. "But I have yet to see her listen when the going is good."

The other two nodded agreement. There had been others born with her unique ability. She need not worry because although she had a thread just as everyone else, they could not see it. And even thought they could not see it it would still end, of course. But not even Clora who created each and every one had been able to find it. Arra was, however, the only one who did not cow in the presence of Fate and listen to reason.

Lachais continued to stare, farther down the glowing line than before but stare she did. Clora without being told made one other line glow. Where the two met and intertwined there was a hot, eye burning glow. It lasted a short time and then the second one continued on with a very dull glow in another direction.

"And our Minister?" Clora asked.

"He knows what he is doing," Lachais said aloud though all of them knew. "But he treads on a path that could lead to dangerous times for many."

Lana let Rije ride atop Flash. The skinny young woman was hardly a burden and Flash let Lana know by bursting into a jaunty canter every so often. Lana wasn't far behind in spirits. She was humming a jumpy tune breaking only to tell Rije the plans the princess had for her.

Part of this might have had something to do with the lack of response from Damien upon finding out about Rije. Gray-faced, his only response had been a long, slow blink and, "Getting angry wastes too much energy and, really, I should be expecting something like this at any turn after sixteen years."

Hisa even offered to find them a place for the night. Of course, they had to unload everything. Lana offered up her brothers while she asked where the stables and baths were.

She offered to leave Flash as a beast of burden but Damien said he would be more trouble than he was worth. Flash set his teeth on Damien's shoulder and danced away before either he or Sky could reciprocate.

After finally finding the baths (with much help) Lana placed Rije in front of her since the girl didn't seem very happy to be in the situation. Lana finished quickly and was only too overjoyed to help the younger woman out. She took out her own sweet smelling things, which had been easily protected by small spells, and scrubbed it into the brown hair. She tried, at first, to work with the hair and found it was much too hard. After working it most of the bigger knots with her fingers she asked for a comb and received one.

Lana hummed while she worked out every knot as gently as she could. Not that Rije would complain even if she accidentally tore out a chunk of hair. Lana even scrubbed the smaller woman's back and let her take her own front.

Quite pleased with herself, Lana even dressed her in some of her own clothes. They didn't fit all that well on Rije's shorter and bonier frame but they managed by folding in hems and pinning extras away.

"How do you feel?" Lana asked, eyes bright. She really was a pretty girl and cleaning her up did wonders. Her face was a nice tan with a little color at the cheeks that noble ladies wished they could achieve without rouge. Her hair fell almost as straight as Lana's except it was marginally thicker and the highlighted tresses around her face curved away created a nice frame for the heart shaped visage.

"Fine." The deadness in her voice didn't match the brightness of her face. Well, except for the eyes. It wasn't the darkness that would set someone off but the half-lidded bored expression. But then, when Lana thought about it, she'd seen many a noble lady wear that exact expression and the men flocked to them. The only difference being that Rije really didn't seem to care while those girls had been playing a part as so many did at balls and events.

A small frown threatened to pull the edges of Lana's lips down. She pulled them back up. "That's good. Are you hungry? I think my brothers are waiting at the restaurant next door for us. I hope they took care of Zain."

Lana decided not to wait for an answer.

Zain was already eating, spooning a thick stew into his mouth and closing his eyes to chew it. Lana didn't realize she was watching his jaw work then his throat as he swallowed. When her eyes came back up to his lips there was the smallest curve that might or might not have been a smile.

"You are quite taken with him," Rije said quietly. Lana looked at her in surprise. She shut her mouth quickly because Vincent and Damien were coming back, each with two bowls. She fought not to say something back, a denial most likely, but that would have had her brothers asking questions and chances they would stop were nil.

Damien's hair was already dry which was no surprise since it was so short. Vincent's hair was just barely drying at the edges and Zain's was already pulled back into a tight braid.

Lana touched the wet knot of hair at the back of her neck before sitting down. She was just about to shovel a spoonful of carrots and potatoes into her mouth when she noticed Rije standing beside the chair meant for her and staring at the bowl. Lana could tell nothing by the look on her face, it was blank.

"Go ahead, take a seat," Vincent urged warmly. "Eat your fill."

A busty maid with thick blond hair placed a basket of bread in front of them. "Complimentary for such fine looking men," She said in common and not missing a beat she winked, her tongue sliding over full pink lips.

A light shone in Vincent's eyes and the maid didn't miss it as her sight obviously narrowed to the man most likely to answer her messages. Her lips curved nicely. Vincent smirked, something that Lana always found a little odd on his good ole boy looks.

Damien didn't seem to see anything and yet Lana knew he missed nothing. He reached out and broke off a piece of bread, blue eyes glancing up and catching Lana's gaze then moving to Rije as she finally moved to sit. Lana kept her eyes fixed on Damien and she noticed his eyes staying on Rije.

Curious, she thought finally putting the first spoonful into her mouth. The smile she played off when they heard a man's voice calling from the back in Yaman. "Henvra, how many times have I told you to stop giving free bread? That comes out of your pay!"

She replied in a fluent Yaman that had even Damien's eyes wide.

"Why do they keep her around if she's such trouble?" Lana muttered.

"The reason, my dear sister," Vincent began grandly, "is because of her assets--" Here he made cups with his hands in front of him, "bring the men in."

He motioned around the room and she noticed that quite a few of them were men, young and old alike. Lana smiled. Hearing him say it let her know that even though Vincent wouldn't hide that he liked the way she looked he wouldn't really act on it because he knew he was just another man who had come to see the attraction.

That night, Lana dreamed in broken images and pictures.

A door.

A bed.

Shadows.

A mirror with a flash of green.

One shadowed hand.

She started awake and found herself sitting at the foot of her bed, pouring cold sweat. There was a ghost of a song she half remembered at the back of her head. Even when it was over she tried to remember the words. Finally she remembered them thought they had never made much sense to her:

Find your desire

Smile for the day

Shed your useless tears

For tomorrow we die

A/N: The "song" at the end isn't supposed to rhyme. Hah.

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