A/N:

Though I'm using them for my own nefarious ends, neither of these worlds belong to me and all copyrighted stuff is… well, at least not being used for profit.

The main character is a particularly religious one, and when it's his point of view, there's going to be a lot of deity references and possible preachiness. I'm not trying to convert people, just writing the character. I think I forgot to mention that this is an immediately post-Tamuli story. There's more notes after the chapter – I don't want to spoil anything!

Chapter 2: Wish You Were Here

Bevier simply stared for a moment. The arrival of this obviously foreign creature was so far beyond what he was expecting that all thought came to a frozen halt, though his hand reflexively gripped the hilt of his dagger.

It was a young woman, perhaps sixteen or seventeen at most. She was short and shapely, coming up only to Bevier's chest, but she had the ready stance of a trained warrior. She also had no visible weapons, but after traveling with the Atana Mirtai for so long, he knew that was little comfort. There were many bloody scratches on her face and limbs, as if she had crawled through a bramble bush. The dress she was wearing, if it could be called that, was closer to a close-fitted tunic than a properly full skirt and blouse, and her long, bare legs ended in absurdly clunky leather boots. Her dress was filthy and torn, yet beautifully tailored (almost too well-tailored to be decent, his vulgar hindbrain noted) in a brilliant red silk with intricate gold embroidery and lining.

Golden skin and almond eyes normally would have classed her as a Tamul, but no race he had ever laid eyes on had such a hair color. To top off the strangeness, both literally and figuratively, she had long tresses of bright blue hair, partially done up in buns with expensive-looking hair clips. The cerulean color was blinding.

A frozen second passed, and he realized she was glaring at him fiercely. Her purple eyes narrowed – purple? – and the girl angrily picked a twig out of her hair and flicked it away, the motion somehow accusatory. Every instinct he possessed told him that she knew she looked terrible, and that (more importantly) it was somehow his fault.

Belatedly, he realized that his jaw was hanging open and closed it hastily. He held empty hands up palms out, wishing he had more than a knife. There was more here than met the eye. "Hello there," he said clearly. "I mean you no harm."

At his words her expression wavered just a little, showing something Bevier had not expected to see: pain, maybe even desperation. But then the mask of cold superiority was back up, making him doubt the memory even as it registered. She licked dry lips and tried to speak, but her voice failed her mid-syllable. He saw her shoot a quick glance at the bubbling spring. "Miss," he said calmly, hands still up. "I'll stand over here, agreed?" The knight pointed back down where he came and backed slowly in that direction. She waited until he was a good ten yards away before walking quickly up to the spring. Still watching him, she knelt and drank. Her movements were gracious and controlled, but just a shade too eager. She had to be dehydrated.

She stood swiftly, tapped her nose, and said, "Shyan-pu."

"I'm Bevier."

"Baybi-er?" she said.

"With a V. Bevier."

"Bebi-er," she repeated confidently.

He winced internally, but said, "Close enough. How did you come to this place?"

"Da huo bu jie, baka." Her words rang strangely to his ears.

Bevier blinked at her, nonplussed. "You do not speak Elene? How about Tamul?" he said in that language, then switched again. "Can you understand Styrica?"

She cocked her head, listening to each language, but shook her head. "Li jie Putonghua? Nihongo hanasu? Spiiku Eengurishu?"

Bevier shook his head at each one, increasingly confused. Where was this girl from, that neither of them had even heard of each others' languages? Another thought struck him: this was, he was almost certain, the supposedly demonic influence that had been plaguing travelers on the Lindlair road, the blue-haired thief who had stolen his supplies, and the flash of blue and red that the thieves had seen. Even if she didn't come from some demonic hell-world, which Bevier dismissed after a bare second's thought, she was something a lot more than a lost girl that couldn't communicate.

Bevier had assumed that she was tied to the thieves by the old man's curse, if that's what it was, but such was obviously not the case. His thoughts went immediately to the tiny box secreted away in his pack. That had to be the connection, though he couldn't yet fathom how. He had to get her to come with him somehow.

Aloud, the knight told her, "I'm going back to my party," then gestured back toward the meadow. Pointing at her, he asked, "You come?" Bevier made a couple of herding motions with his hands, feeling silly. She looked amused, head cocked to one side. Pointing to herself and him, she walked two fingers in the air and said, "San bu."

"Bevier and Miss Shanpu san bu, yes." He hopefully shooed her in that direction, but she didn't budge from where she stood. Bevier thought wistfully of Sephrenia's language spell, the one that had instantly allowed Sparhawk to speak Troll. Indeed, any wisdom from her or the Cyrinic preceptor would be very welcome at this point. He needed to get to Coombe and seek advice from wiser heads than his.

Bevier backed up slowly, trying to look friendly and un-intimidating, though this was somewhat difficult considering the obviousness of his armor. He made a "come on" gesture, and finally the girl walked forward a bit. She seemed unwilling to take the lead, however, so he finally began backing down the way he came, trying to keep an eye on her and his footing at the same time.

Shanpu watched him with cool amusement as he backed slowly through the trees. Bevier knew he looked foolish but had the peculiar feeling that if her lost sight of her she would vanish as quickly as she had come. In contrast, her movements were fluid and silent, obviously at home in the wild despite the clunky boots and inappropriate garb. She had no trouble keeping up but still followed him at a good distance, obviously allowing enough freedom to flee should it be necessary.

When they reached the end of the trees she paused, her attention momentarily caught by Delric and the horses. Out of the corner of his eye, Bevier could see him standing uncertainly, bread and cheese forgotten. The manservant, too, had marked Bevier's new companion.

She asked something in a suspicious tone, nodding her head at Delric, and Bevier began, "It's fine, he's a servant." Then he stopped, nonplussed. There was no convenient mime for that, and Bevier was getting a sinking feeling that their conversational impasse was going to be a trend. Again, he thought irritably of the language spell. Why did I never bother to learn it when I had the chance? For lack of a better gesture, he smiled broadly, nodded and gestured her onward, feeling like a shady horse trader and hoping that she understood the general sense of approval. "It's fine," he repeated.

Risking a glance at Delric, Bevier saw the man rub his eyes uncertainly. They were moving closer, and the man could hardly miss the strangeness of her. "Delric," he called, "don't make any sudden movements. She's skittish."

As he spoke, Shanpu halted in her tracks, adopting a ready stance and watching both of them with narrow eyes. She said something in a sharp voice. Bevier put his hands out, showing no weapons, and jerked his chin at Delric, who followed his lead after only a moment's hesitation. There was a second of tense waiting while the girl's bright eyes flickered back and forth between the two men, waiting for them to move. After a moment she moving a little closer, still ready to flee or fight.

"My Lord," said Delric softly as Bevier approached, "Who is this? Why was she in the woods so far from town?"

"This is Miss Shanpu, and unless I'm mistaken, she happens to be our mysterious thief," Bevier responded calmly, still smiling at the girl. There was an unexpected silence at his side, making Bevier turn to check his companion's reaction. Delric was staring at Bevier in disbelief. "Her hair, man. Have you ever seen anything like it?"

"Well, no, but- it's just a girl!" Delric protested, gesturing toward her. The girl was watching their discussion with suspicious, uncomprehending eyes. "She can't be more than sixteen!"

"Sixteen or sixty, she's not from around here. I can't follow anything she says." Shanpu had stopped her advance more than dozen paces from them, and Bevier bit his lip, thinking. "We've got to get her to trust us, Delric, before we can figure out what's going on here."

Delric blinked. "Can't you just…" he wiggled his fingers in a poor imitation of Styric magic.

Bevier shook his head ruefully. "I've never heard of a trust spell that wasn't more like befuddlement, and this situation is confusing enough as it is. Not to mention, I'd hate to have to deal with her once it wore off."

"Food?" the servant suggested. "The universal gesture of peace."

"Good as anything, for now," Bevier agreed. Delric retrieved some more jerky and bread from the bags and proffered it in her direction. She didn't move.

Bevier gave her a considering look. It stood to reason that she was as hungry as she had been thirsty earlier. The girls' good looks could not totally hide the shadows of fatigue around her eyes and the thinness of her limbs. Experimentally, he tore the bread in half and motioned to Delric to do the same to the jerky. "She has no reason to trust us, yet," he said, his voice absurdly bright. "We have to break bread with her, or she'll never take it."

Nodding his agreement, Delric tore the jerky into separate pieces. The girl didn't move, but her eyes locked onto the food as the two men combined their offering in a clean cloth and placed it out as an invitation. At Bevier's instruction, Delric sat, unhurried, a pace away from the proffered food. Bevier, after making a brief detour to the saddlebags, also clanked his way into a sitting position an equal distance away from Delric, creating a triangle. The horses watched from behind Delric, mild bemusement in their eyes at these strange human antics.

Watching both of them warily, Shanpu padded forward on silent feet and kneeled in front of the food. She made a graceful bow from her knees and spoke to them in a respectful tone. She watched them eat for a brief moment, presumably to see if they would get convulsions or start foaming from the mouth, and then tore into the simple fare like a wolf in a rabbit hutch.

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Bevier felt a little overfull, having eaten twice over, but he reasoned that his gluttony was for a good cause. When she was mostly finished, he asked the question that he had been dying to ask from the beginning. "Now," Bevier said clearly to the girl, "do you recognize this?" He pulled the tiny carved box from where he had hidden it in his tunic and held it out to her.

Shanpu's eyes widened in shock, and she leapt from her sitting position toward him. Startled, Bevier's reflexive grip on the box was the only thing that prevented her from snatching it from his grasp as she bowled him over into the grass. Skidding to a stop behind him and reversing course, she leaped back on him as he tried to struggle upright. It all happened within two heartbeats - Delric had only just gotten to his feet as Shanpu attempted to pry the box from Bevier's hands, shrieking in fury.

She was obviously powerful, but Bevier was well-muscled from many years sweating in eighty pounds of metal. He pushed her off with an ungraceful shove and rolled back upright. But rather than simply falling backward, she executed a fantastic mid-air roll and landed on her feet a few strides away. She began shouting at them, pointing at the box angrily and gesturing toward her face, clothes, the surrounding area, Delric --

Bevier put up a placating hand, the other still clenched around the box. In a level tone, he told Shanpu, "Hold your tongue, you ingrate, you know I can't understand a word you're saying. It's no use shouting. Shh." He put a finger to his lips in a shushing gesture, which apparently translated to whatever language she used. After a few more sharp comments, she subsided into a chilly glare.

Reluctantly taking his eyes off her, he looked over at Delric, who stood ready despite not knowing what exactly to do. "Get me the biggest map we have, would you? I'm going to try an exchange of information." Tucking the box back inside his tunic for the time being, he did not miss the snarl of frustration on Shanpu's face.

A few seconds of rummaging brought to light a map of Eosia, a crude copy Bevier usually used for reference purposes. He laid the parchment flat on the grass, glad the morning dew had dried. He gestured for her to come closer, and watched her face as comprehension dawned. Still staying as far away as possible from both men, she craned her neck toward the map of the continent.

After a moment she frowned and shook her head, saying something in a defeated tone of voice. Maybe she was never taught to read a map. Patiently, Bevier pointed to himself and the surrounding trees, and then to their current position, south of the capital. "You are here, Miss Shanpu," he informed her, pointing to the girl, then to the tiny dot that was inscribed Coombe. "Where are you from?" He made a little walking motion with two fingers over the map, and looked at her questioningly.

She made an irritated noise in her throat and laid a palm flat on the paper. "Bu ran." She shook her head negatively.

"No?" He shook his head in the same way.

"Bu ran," she repeated.

He sat back on his heels a little, thinking. "Daresia?" he suggested. He tapped the very right-hand edge of the map, where Zemoch connected to the other continent, and made a broad outline of it with a finger. "Here?"

"Bu ran, bie chu," she insisted. Biting her lower lip, she frowned at the map for several seconds. Her face brightening, she flipped the paper over with a deft hand and made a happy comment on the blank surface of the other side. Looking up at Bevier, she made a scribbling motion with one hand, clearly asking for a writing tool.

Abashed, Bevier shook his head. "Sorry, I didn't think to bring any ink with me."

She made a face, but then looked around hopefully. Getting up, she bounded over to the stream and called out, "Bevier-san, jin." She pointed to the ground. Confused, the knight stood and trailed along after her. He watched her search the ground for a moment and pick up a stick, then realized that she intended to draw something on the damp, sandy earth of the stream bank. Crouching, she quickly drew a squiggly-bordered half-moon with more squiggly shapes next to it, and pointed inside the bigger shape. "Shanpu gu xiang zhe li." She drew a dotted line to what he supposed was an island, than back to the main shape.

"You… traveled here?" Bevier asked her. He didn't recognize the shapes she was drawing, but that was no surprise, given her strange appearance. The whole situation was frustrating and exhilarating in a way that he hadn't felt for years, puzzling out this strange communication with an even stranger female. He opened his hands wide and gestured outward, then pointed toward the picture. "Bigger? Can you make it bigger?"

She nodded and muttered something. She wiped the picture flat in the sand and started again, and Bevier watched carefully. She started with a huge elongated circle this time, which was information of itself – wherever she came from, it looked like she was educated enough to know quite a bit of geography. She added two blobs on the right edge, connected by a peninsula, then drew a central continent that took up most of the northern part of the circle. Another large continent off to the left crept down into the southern hemisphere, and a huge island hovered south of the largest continent. She added a few more details and islands, and corrected a line here and there.

It was completely like nothing Bevier had ever seen. She seemed very certain of her cartography, though. Bewildered, he looked at it sideways and upside down, but it didn't resemble the world he knew, even one drawn very badly. It was, he was sure, a drawing of the world she knew. Which isn't this one. Still absorbed in her task, she drew a line bisecting the oval, pointed to it and fanned herself theatrically. Then she pointed to both the far northern regions and the very southern ocean, wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. So she has some familiarity with world climates, to, he thought in a stunned sort of way. Interesting.

She redefined the half moon country from her original drawing in the southern part of central continent, across from the little string of islands, and said, "Sichaun sheng, Zhongguo." She tapped it instructively.

"But- how did you get here?" His voice was almost plaintive in his own ears, and hearing it shook Bevier out of his shock a little.

She looked at him for a moment blankly. They were both silent for a moment, digesting their information, and Bevier slowly became aware that he was a lot closer than he thought she would have allowed. Her almond-shaped purple eyes were downcast in thought, shaded by thick, blue-black lashes. The vivid blue of her hair seemed less strange to him now, as though knowing that she was not from this world made the difference minor in comparison. Or maybe, he thought in amusement, I'm just glad that's all that's different. She doesn't have horns or a tail, at least. Suspicion reminded him: that you can see...

Bevier remembered the box, and brought it out just enough for her to recognize it before putting it back. "So what does this have to do with it?" he asked her, not really expecting an answer.

Her eyes narrowed, but she didn't try to go for it again. Shanpu stood, head bowed, then held up a finger in inspiration. She crouched, hobbled forward, and extended a hand, her soprano lilt suddenly a crone's croak. Straightening, she mimed taking the offering, examining it, opening a lid – then whirled around and around in a fast spin until she fell with an "Oh!", long tresses spilling over her prone form dramatically. Concerned, Bevier leaned forward to offer his assistance, but she sat up with one hand to her forehead, still playacting. She looked around, confused, then stood and peered in both directions with one hand shading her eyes.

She then pointed to the sun, and rotated a finger. "A day," Bevier guessed. She held up two fingers, then held her stomach as if in pain. "Getting hungry, of course," he said sympathetically. Then she did a series of motions that made no sense to him. Seeing his confusion, she stopped and thought.

First pointing to her eyes, she held up four fingers and cried in a deep voice, "Stup!" She mimed holding a weapon, then a person on their knees, pleading. Stop.

Bevier snapped his fingers. "The bandits, you met them? Did they rob you?" She held up a hand to make him wait, then tiptoed forward a few steps. Then she did something again that he couldn't understand, a sort of hop-skip with hand motions. Then she mimed eating and drinking, rubbing her stomach happily.

"You stole food from them somehow, all right." Even though they never saw her? He wondered uneasily. I'm not getting something here. The silence and speed evinced in the theft of his supplies, not to mention the rumors of sorcery in the town, made him uneasily aware that there were more unusual differences between them than just hair color and language.

She made the sun-moving motion again, then held up a finger. Crouching, she ticked off four sets of seven marks in the dirt, then drew a box around it and made two identical boxes beside it. She then looked at him expectantly.

"Three months? That's how long you've been here?" Bevier cringed in sympathy. That explains her ragged appearance.

Delric, who had been watching the entire thing from a distance, finally spoke. "What are we gonna do with her, M'Lord?"

Bevier shrugged. "We've got to take her with us, that much is clear. She can't stay out here preying on travelers for survival." He also craved the advice of his elders, as well as the Cyrinic tutor of Styricium.

"Well, if we have a mystery on our hands, it may as well be a mystery that looks like that," the man agreed cheerfully. At Bevier's glare, he shrugged apologetically. "Oh, I'll treat her as befits a lady, Sir Bevier, but I'm not blind."

Neither am I, was on the tip of his tongue. And that's a problem.

A/N:

A bizarre cross-over indeed, but I hope it works…

The whole thing, of course, is based on the works of David Eddings and Ramiko Takahashi. Delric and incidental characters are my own creation.

References: Title derived from "Girl, Interrupted" by Susanna Kaysen. Chapter title is a fairly common postcard sentiment, but also an album by Pink Floyd.

When I first started this story, it didn't occur to me how unbelievably aggravating it would be to write characters who are learning a language I have no experience with (Chinese) and a language that was completely made up (Elene). Many, many thanks to indygodusk for all of her suggestions on how to work around it.

Another warning: I do not know Chinese, so don't assume that what Shampoo is saying means anything at all. I did have help from a Chinese-English dictionary but I'm guessing that my Chinese translations are probably at best atrocious. If anyone has any experience with Chinese that would like to correct my bungled attempt at the language, please feel free. At this point I just want it to scan convincingly.

Doing my own research is interesting, to say the least. I happened to run across the entry for Lochaber axes in Wikipedia and found that it's technically a polearm, which is a ludicrously ill-suited weapon for a knight, even a short-handled version. And Eddings never mentions the hook on the reverse, used for pulling cavalry off their horses. If that hook isn't incorporated, it's really more of a voulge than a Lochaber – though that's still an infantry weapon. Crazy.

Let me know what you think!