"I AM THE tribe chief, Batkhaan. You must be the visitors from the land across the seas."

We nodded. I didn't bother being surprised that Batkhaan knew about us. Rumours travelled quickly in a place as small as Batsureg.

The tall, dark-haired, veiled woman standing to the right of Batkhaan's throne surveyed us with piercing green eyes. "Intriguing..." she mumured. "An intruguing character. Greetings. I am Sarantsatsral. How are you called?"

I looked at her funny, but she didn't notice. It seemed like all her attention was focused on Erik. I crossed my arms, mouth twisting into a petulant frown.

Erik introduced all four of us, but Sarantsatsral didn't even glance away from him. "And what brings you to the great plains, Erik?"

"We're looking for a shining fruit," Cristine said. "Have you seen one?" Her voice was even, but there was a little bit of rigidity in her usually graceful, flowing posture that made me realise that she was a little irritated at Sarantsatsral ignoring us, too.

The witch woman blinked. "You come in search of a fruit that shines?" she asked, piercing eyes flickering away. "I...I know of no such thing."

I looked at her suspiciously, but before I could say anything Batkhaan looked at Sarantsatsral. "What troubles you, Sarantsatsral?" he asked. "It is unlike you to react so. Has this careless traveller given you offence?"

Then he set his jaw and looked at us. "The conversation is concluded," he said in a tone that brooked no argument. "We are with no knowledge of such a fruit. Leave us."

I opened my mouth to argue, but Cristine touched my arm warningly. For a moment, I considered ignoring it, but then I decided it would be better for all concerned if I just didn't talk.

"Your forgiveness, please," Sarantsatsral said, still focusing only on Erik. "The chief is a man with much business to attend. Perhaps you will visit again soon..."

But it was an offer of base courtesy, not actually an invitation. I kept from rolling my eyes until we were turned around and heading towards the yurt entrance.

Then there was a voice from outside: "Father, you summoned me?"

Batkhaan sighed audibly. "Your lack of punctuality brings disrespect upon your father, Batzorig. Where have you been?"

Batzorig entered and made two bows - one each to his father and Sarantsatsral. "Forgive me," he said. "I was thinking on many things, and time escaped me."

We moved out of the way as Batzorig approached the throne.

"It is good that you busy yourself with such ruminations," Sarantsatsral said approvingly. "It is fit for a future chief to be with great consideration."

Batzorig inclined his head. "I thank you, Sarantsatsral," he said. "Only you speak such kind words to me."

"In any case, Batzorig," Batkhaan said, "it is I who have summoned you here. You know, of course, of the beast that has attempted to harm me."

I blinked.

Beast? Nick mouthed.

Erik shrugged.

"I wish for you to hunt it down and destroy it. You are the son of a chief. Such tasks are fitting to one of your standing."

Batzorig drew himself to his full height. "Of course, Father," he said. "I will honour your name and hunt the beast as you request." Then he hesitated. My eyebrows pulled together. Every time I'd met Batzorig, he'd come across as a solid kid - someone who'd do what he needed to without pausing, and would do it to the best of his abilities. And the tone in his voice seemed odd as he said, "But to carry out such an undertaking requires careful preparation. Allow me some time before I am to set out."

Batkhaan was halfway through nodding his agreement when someone outside screamed. "Everybody! Come quickly!"

Distracted, everyone turned towards the opening in the yurt. "Such clamour!" Sarantsatsral exclaimed. "Something is wrong outside."

"Argh!" yelled another voice. "The beast comes!"

Batkhaan stood, and his weather-beaten skin went several shades paler. "No!" he cried. "It is among us again! The infernal beast!"

Then he glanced at his son, who had frozen to the spot. "You are prepared, Batzorig?" he asked urgently. "The time has come for you to defeat our enemy!"

Batzorig didn't turn. "I, I must make battle with the beast so soon...?" he murmured. I wasn't sure what I saw in his expression, but what I felt from him wasn't fear. It was reluctance, but...I wasn't quite sure what about. Somehow, it didn't go with what he did next: shaking his head and saying, "B-But! I cannot! I am without strength!"

And then, to my utter shock, he turned and ran to the bed and crouched down beside it, shivering. But still, what I felt from him didn't match. He wasn't scared.

Batkhaan looked at him in something almost verging on contempt. "Without strength or without courage?" he asked, perfectly loud enough for Batzorig to hear. "So be it. If my son is weak, I will deal with the beast myself."

"Wait, Batkhaan!" cried Sarantsatsral. "If you are harmed, who will lead our tribe?"

That made Batkhaan pause long enough for Sarantstsral to approach us - or Erik, more specifically. "Erik, you appear to be a warrior of some strength," she said. "You could defeat this beast, could you not?"

Erik hesitated. "I believe so," he said.

"Will you stand in the chief's stead and rescue our village from peril?" Sarantsatsral asked. I glared at her suspiciously. There was nothing in her tone to suggest the least ill meaning, but I didn't trust her. Not to mention the fact that for some reason, her emotions were suddenly shielded. I couldn't sense anything from her.

But even though I could tell Erik didn't trust the witch woman any more than me, he nodded. "If that is what is necessary."

Sarantsatsral laughed softly. "We are with gratitude," she said. "Now, go forth and face the beast."

Nick, Cristine, and I made to walk out with him, but he put out an arm to stop us. "Stay in here," he said.

"Excuse me?" I asked. "And what are we supposed to do while we wait for you to go out alone and fight the big mean monster that this whole tribe - hunters all, by the way, and accomplished ones too - can't seem to take down?"

"Await my return," Erik said, shrugging. Then he leaned a little closer and whispered, "And try not to get jealous while I am away."

I swear he was smirking. He certainly felt like doing it. I stared after him, mouth open in outrage. I can't believe him!

"You are not with the mind to fight the beast, I hope?" Batzorig called. We all glanced back to see that he had half turned, facing us with a pleading expression that his father and Sarantsatsral couldn't have seen from their position. "I am with great far that you will receive an injury fighting for nomads you barely know. Please stop!"

Erik looked back at him, and for a long moment violet eyes met dark eyes in silent communication. Finally Erik said, "I have given my word. And I give it again: I shall come back unharmed."

And without another word, he turned and strode out of the tent.

"It travels towards you!" cried a voice from outside. I heard panicked voices and dozens of hurried footsteps, along with a deeper, heavier set - the beast.

"Block its path!"

The nomads were terrified of the beast - I could tell that much - but they didn't hesitate before doing what they felt was their duty. I was impressed. There weren't many people I knew who were that brave.

And then there was a long, low growl, and I couldn't stop myself. I sprinted outside, drawing my sword in preparation to help Erik fight off the beast.

But instead, I found Erik having what looked like a staring contest with a badboon. I blinked. That was odd.

After a long moment, the badboon growled again, and then dodged away. I hurried a few steps after it and watched it run out of the village. Amazement and excitement from the nomads swirled around me, but I ignored it. I was more focused on the retreating emotions of the badboon.

That's no ordinary monster...


"Hm," Batkhaan said, regarding Erik back in the yurt. "You have great courage." He glanced over at Batzorig, who was still crouched by the bed. "Though I wish that the might on which he depended was his own..." Then he sighed.

Sarantsatsral looked over towards the nomad boy. "Fear no more, Batzorig," she said. "It is done. You are safe."

Slowly, Batzorig stood up. Erik, Nick, Cristine, and I moved out of the way so he could stand in front of the throne. "Forgive me, Father, for I am without courage," he said, bowing his head. "I am a disappointment for you."

"Batzorig," Batkhaan said, leaning forwards, "one day you must lead our tribe. How will you do so if you fear such beasts?"

But he doesn't! I thought. Fear had had no part in what Batzorig had been feeling. Determination, certainly, and cunning and perhaps worry, but nothing of fear. I couldn't for the life of me figure out what was going on.

"You are right, Father. I have no excuse. My spirit was honourable, but my spine deserted me when the moment came."

The words fell into silence, and it was a moment before anyone said anything else. Then Batkhaan spoke: "Then you will be given another chance, Batzorig. A chance for your spirit to triumph over your spine."

Batzorig's dark eyes went wide. "B-But, Father!" he exclaimed. "I cannot!" His tone was urgent.

Footsteps entered the tent. Batkhaan pointed to his son and cried, "Men! Take my weak-willed son away and make him the hunter he cannot bring himself to be!"

Two red-garbed nomads leapt and grabbed Batzorig, pinning his arms to his sides. I started towards him but tripped over something I couldn't see. The others tripped over me, and we all hit the floor hard.

"No!" Batzorig snarled, struggling hard enough to give the two men a good contest. "Do not touch me! Help! Stop them, Sarantsatsral!"

But the witch woman didn't move, and the nomads dragged the struggling boy out of the yurt. I could hear him yelling at them for a good minute after they left.

There was a long silence, during which I stared after Batzorig with my mouth open a little more than it needed to be. Then I heard Batkhaan's voice from behind me. "When I imagine him as the next tribe chief, my head is with such worry that I cannot sleep." He sighed heavily. This weighed on his conscience. As it should!

"But he is such a dear boy, with such a great attachment to me," Sarantsatsral said. "I cannot feel disappointed in him."

I struggled to keep from rolling my eyes.

"Forgive us, travellers, for such a dishonourable display," Batkhaan said then, and we turned. "That was my son, Batzorig. My tribe will be as a herd with no bull if he becomes chief. If you wish to build high, you must dig deep. It is my duty as his father to give him confidence. But I ponder how."

Sarantsatsral's piercing eyes went wide. "Ah-ha!" she cried. "An idea has come to me! You spoke that you came here in search of a fruit that shines, did you not?" When Erik nodded, Sarantsatsral's veil moved like she was smiling. "Then offer your assistance in the fight against the beast. But you must allow Batzorig to strike the final blow. If you fulfill this task, we will aid you in your search for the fruit. We would not wish you to come to harm in your search..."

I looked at her suspiciously.

"May it be so. If Sarantsatsral believes this to be the right path, then I am in harmony with it. My son prepares himself at the yurts to the north of our village. Go to him, and lend him your might."

As we left the tent, Stella popped out. "I'm not exactly wild about helping out such a damp blanket of a boy, but if it gets us closer to a fygg, I suppose it's worth it..."

I shook my head. "Batzorig doesn't need our help," I said. "Cristine and I have met him before, and he's not a coward. Something's going on here. I don't trust that Sarantsatsral - and there's something weird about that badboon."

"Badboon?" Nick asked.

"The beast they spoke of," Erik answered.

Cristine pursed her lips. "Huh," she said. "That's odd. Badboons don't usually live around here."

"I know," I said. "Come on. Batzorig's the only one who'll be able to explain all this."


"Why do you hesitate to begin the hunt?" asked a voice from inside of one of the hunting yurts north of Batsureg. "How are you to follow in the footsteps of your father if you do not?"

"Your words mean nothing in the fact of the ugly truth," Batzorig replied coolly. "I am struck rigid with fear at the very sight of the beast..."

"You there! Who are you? What is your business?"

Erik, Nick, Cristine, and I all jumped as we realised that the last voice hadn't come from inside the yurt. A nomad was hurrying towards us. "Outsiders!" he exclaimed. "Follow me!" And then he shoved past us into the yurt. We looked around at each other. Nick shrugged. So we followed the guy inside.

The two nomads who had dragged Batzorig out of his father's yurt were already there, as was Batzorig himself, who was standing with his arms folded and a scowl on his face. "Batzorig," Cristine said, "we came to see you."

His scowl lessened slightly. "What intention do you have with me?" he asked.

Briefly, Erik explained what Sarantsatsral and Batkhaan had asked.

"Our chief requested you to assist with the defeat of the beast?" asked one nomad.

The other's eyes lit up. "This warrior -" he gestured to Erik - "scared the beast away from Batsureg. With such valour beside you, you cannot be with fear, Batzorig."

And then the last one spoke. "Come, young master! We must set out with haste!"

The scowl came back then, and Batzorig turned to the other nomads. "Such stubborn insistance! Stubborn as a mule! I will say again for the last time that I will not pursue the beast." And then he strode out. I could feel him simmering with irritation.

"A great shame," sighed one of the nomads. "Even foul water will put out a fire, yet Batzorig refuses to extinguish this menace."

I rolled my eyes. "Come on," I muttered. "Let's just talk to Batzorig."

He was sitting in the other yurt, his head down on the table. Worry and irritation rolled off of him in waves.

"Batzorig?"

He jumped. "Tammy..." He rose. We walked over to him. He nodded to us. "Erik, you spoke that my father requested you to aid me in my task, did you not?"

Erik nodded.

"The people are all with the belief that the beast desires to take the life of my father. Do you also see it so?" He looked around, looking each of us in the eye. There was a distinct note of challenge in his voice.

We all looked back at him for a long moment. Then, slowly, Erik and I shook our heads, at the same time that Cristine nodded hers and Nick just shrugged.

Batzorig examined us again. "I see..." he said. "I must attend to something. Forgive me."

Then he walked out. I sighed. Erik raised an eyebrow. "Odd," he said. "He is much like my master. That is the same excuse he always gave in order to escape company..."

"And the one you always give, too," I pointed out.

"Only when I have something that I truly do need to attend to. In case you do not recall, both times I used that excuse, I was returning to the Starflight Express."

"Tammy, do you really believe that that badboon isn't trying to kill Batkhaan?" Cristine asked. "I mean, everyone seems convinced."

I shrugged. "'Everyone'," I said. "When has the fact that 'everyone' thinks or does something ever swayed me? Did I ever change into something more modest because 'everyone' wore stuff like that?" I grinned.

Cristine rolled her eyes, smiling. "Almighty, don't bring that up."

I laughed. "Come on," I said. "Let's go after Batzorig and make him tell us what's up. Whether Erik and I are right or not, we ought to find out what's going on. And even if we are wrong, well, there's always Sarantsatsral to figure out."

Nick shook his head. "There's something strange about that woman," he said as we headed out after Batzorig. "I hate to say it because I don't know and I oughtn't to judge, but she's...not normal."

"It may simply be that she is a witch," Erik said. "I have read many a tale about her kind - all of them true, recorded by Celestrians over the millennia- and not a one features a witch who is an ordinary mortal in behaviour. But then, not a one featured a good witch, either. I do not believe that Sarantsatsral is to be trusted."

"Finally, something we can agree on!" I gave a loud, mocking sigh of relief. "I've got to tell you, it feels pretty nice. Weird, but nice!"

Cristine laughed. "Maybe Tammy's a witch," she said teasingly. "She's weird enough!"

"Shut up," I replied, but I laughed, too.

"Why - going to turn me into a frog?" Cristine asked, dancing back. She grinned.

I rolled my shoulders and arms round a little. "Maybe," I said casually. "Never have seen a dancing frog. I think it'd be interesting, don't you?" I looked at the boys, eyebrows raised.

Nick took a step in front of Cristine, blue eyes sparkling with humour. "I don't think I want her as a frog," he said. "I like her human."

"What - do you mean you wouldn't like me as a frog?" Cristine put a hand to her heart in mock sorrow.

He laughed. "Well, I suppose if you were a frog it would be easier to do - this!" He grabbed her hands and swung her round in a big circle. Erik and I ducked to get out of the way of Cristine's sandaled feet, which were flying through the air. I was laughing. Erik rolled his eyes, but I swear to the Almighty he was almost smiling again. He wanted to, I could tell.

So I grabbed his arms and announced, "Your turn!"

I couldn't spin him up into the air - lanky as he was, I had no doubt that he was heavier than me - but by dint of a little momentum, I got the two of us going in a circle. "Almighty - Tammy - stop it!" he cried, but I didn't, and as we spun round I saw the smile. I grinned and got us going faster.

And then I heard something I'd never heard before: Erik laughed.

I stopped in shock, and we fell down across from each other. My eyes were wide. "Almighty!" I said. "I didn't know you could! Where in the world did you learn to laugh, Erik?"

Which of course made him stop laughing, stop smiling, and give me a look from where he sat sprawled on the grass.

I laughed and got up. "Ah, spoilsport. Here." I held out a hand to help him up.

He took it and pulled me down, then got up himself.

Nick and Cristine were both laughing. I rolled over onto my side and popped up, punching Erik in the shoulder as I did so. "You little -" I said, and then started fishing for a word bad enough.

Erik was struggling with a grin. "Well, as Stella would say - playing with Celestrians a girl can get burnt," he told me.

I rolled my eyes. "She would say that." Then I glanced around. "What're we all staring at, eh? Come on, let's get moving!"

Nick and Cristine both laughed as we headed north after Batzorig's retreating figure.

We followed him north across a bridge, west, and then around a path to a cave on the side of Mount Ulbaruun. It was dim inside - the entry was small and it was only lit with torches. But it was bright enough for us to see Batzorig and the badboon, standing in front of what looked like a gravestone.

"Such a method might result in Sarantsatsral's defeat, but your death would be guaranteed also..." Batzorig was saying. "If you are dead, my mother will be with great sadness in her new world. Life is not to be thrown away like a well-gnawed bone. You must remain here and guard the grave of my beloved mother. Do you understand, Khoonbish?"

I was shocked to feel the reluctance from the badboon as it growled agreement.

Batzorig stooped to hug the badboon - Khoonbish - and then rose, turned, and saw us. "Y-You!" he stammered. "How is it that you have come here?"

He and Khoonbish approached us. "Hmm... You have heard our conversation. This cannot be helped. I must tell you the truth in its entirety." He gestured to Khoonbish. "The beast is my friend. He is called Khoonbish. Long ago, my mother and I found him injured on the plains and gave him assistance. Then we became friends. Khoonbish's target in our village was not my father, but Saratsatsral." I heard the snarl behind the name, but it wasn't in Batzorig's voice - it was in his mind. "She deceives our peaceful people with trickery, and plots evil deeds. I have feigned idiocy and cowardice to make her without suspicion of me, but I cannot create a plan to oust her. This is the full truth." He bowed his head to us. "Please, you must keep it hidden from all others' ears. And now, I must return to the yurts. Farewell."

He and Khoonbish left. I watched after them and smiled as I felt Khoonbish's pleasure - Batzorig seemed to have forgotten he'd told the badboon to stay put.

Then a swell of foreboding came over me and I turned back to the grave. The ghost of a serious woman had materialised on top of the stone.

"Beloved Batzorig..." she said. "Take great care, my child. Sarantsatsral plots your death."


Ooh...fun day, isn't it? Well, up til the end, at least ^_^

Murder plots, brave men gone cowards gone brave again, Erik laughing...boy, I didn't expect that one! But then, I didn't expect anyone to start talking about frogs, either. And then, of course, there's a nice little anachronism...or is it an anachronism? It's way ahead of its time, sure, but it's in a different world, too... Oh, well. My friends who were in Fiddler this spring will be very pleased with me.

Anyway, we're not travelling anymore, but we're still on holiday. Depending on how much we travel until school starts again, I'll hopefully have plenty of time to write. So let's see if Erik laughs again, shall we?

May all the bodies of the heavens watch over you!