Ch 5 Good Morning Universe

Once more Clarice stood in Bowerstone Town Square, sunlight glinting on the clock face as it struck the hour. The hum of early shoppers, the appetising smells from food stalls carried on the fresh morning air as before. The towers of Fairfax Castle still rose tall. As though everything since the appearance of the Orb had been a dream.

Then she realised. The clock was striking nine for the second time in the space of an hour. This time in another universe entirely.

That she'd succeeded in making the most epic journey of her life was confirmed by the presence of Celeste beside her. Without the restrictions of the Orb's window, Clarice could see that she wore sturdy trousers of a dark hue, rather than the light, airy ones more commonly matched with Will User robes, and black thigh boots. The contrast with her rich blue upper garments gave her an imposing, almost intimidating appearance. Even more striking was the difference in height between them. Clarice had been accustomed to looking down on nearly everyone, due to the additional growth stimulated by the development of her hero powers. Now her smaller, stockier body put her on the same level as the general populace. Celeste, on the other hand, towered over her to a degree that seemed near inhuman.

Perhaps that's not far from the truth. Sometimes it feels like heroes are so separate from the common mass of humanity, as to be almost a different species. Is that why we often feel so alone?

Despite its inferiority in stature, Clarice could sense that her avatar body retained the same iron hard resilience that had allowed her to survive impacts such as the fall from Fairfax Castle, shocks that would have shattered the bones of ordinary mortals. At least that remained a source of comfort, something unchanging and reliable.

Meanwhile her every instinct was prompting her that, in spite of the veneer of sameness, this was not the Bowerstone Market that she knew. As though there was something in the air that screamed difference … she noticed Celeste was watching her closely, as if to assess her reaction.

Her mind seized on the first apparently trivial novelty.

"The Cow and Corset's got a new coat of paint!"

Celeste laughed. "You've travelled between one universe and another, and that's the first thing you notice! But I can tell you that you're absolutely right, because I ordered it done."

Clarice gaped. "You bought the Cow? It must be worth over ten thousand in gold!"

For reply, Celeste simply pointed. Next to the door of the inn, a prominent sign read, Under the management of the hero known as Blade. The last title looked as if it had been painted over several times.

Looking round, Clarice observed an identical sign outside Fiction Burns.

"You own the bookseller's too?"

"She certainly does." A distinguished looking man in a frock coat was busying himself with arranging some books on a bargain stall outside. "And a very liberal owner too, I might say." His face looked strangely familiar to Clarice.

She asked, "Are you related to Phillippa, the bookseller?"

"She's my sister. She used to work the store, but gave it up to write her great novel. Wants to emulate the popular but controversial author Meredith Sock." The man smiled fondly. "I often tell her, 'After you've written something that sells as well as Megafowl: the Sword is Mightier than the Hen, you can call yourself a real novelist.' Then she lectures me about 'artistic integrity'." He held out his hand, "I'm Phil, the store manager, and any friend of Celeste is a friend of mine."

Clarice shook his hand with a feeling of wonder and confusion. "Likewise Phil."

"As a matter of fact," Celeste interposed smoothly. "Clarice happens to be my cousin, twice removed. And she'll be adventuring with me."

"Ah!" Phil nodded sagely. "An apprentice heroine. This is news indeed!" He added, a little more doubtfully, "The family resemblance is ... so striking!"

Apprentice! Clarice couldn't help pursing her lips in resentment. It was yet to be established which of them was the more powerful, but she was certainly no tyro. After a moment's thought however, she was able to see matters from Celeste's point of view. To have someone else stealing the limelight would detract from her all-important reputation, weakening her ability to complete quests. And it was, after all, her world.

As though reading her mind, Celeste added in a tone inaudible to Phil, "That's about the easiest explanation I could think of and, as you'll see, is likely to cause the least trouble."

Clarice bowed her head in consent, while her thoughts returned to other matters. Before she could voice the question on her lips, her hero's sense alerted her to potential danger, and she turned to confront a monstrous grey shape hurtling across the square towards her, fur standing on end and teeth bared.

"Major! Down boy!" Celeste's voice cracked like a whip. The huge hound halted abruptly in response to his mistress' admonition, then fawned on her whimpering, with his head down. "See, he's fine really ..." Major growled as Clarice tried to pet him "... Major! … just a bit overprotective." Her tone was the defensive one of a dog owner finding it hard to comprehend the terrified reaction of innocent strollers to the slavering beast's attempts to lick them, or put muddy paws on their chests. "Friend, Major, friend!" When Major continued to decline any exhibition of friendliness, she added apologetically, "He's not usually so … reticent. It could be something about your avatar body. Probably smells funny to him. Maybe if he sees us hug, he'll get the idea."

Clarice felt her cheeks begin to flush, but Celeste had already enveloped her in a strong embrace, and she had no choice but to respond. The sensation was both stimulating and disturbing, not only due to the peculiar circumstance that she appeared to be receiving a hug from herself. The warmth and touch of another woman provoked feelings she'd tried to put aside. She could smell Celeste's perfume, the same expensive scent Valery both wore and retailed. Even more embarrassingly, the difference in heights meant that Celeste had drawn her head close to her soft and prominent bosom.

"Welcome to my town, Cousin Clarice!" Celeste showed no similar discomfiture.

"Thank you, Cousin Celeste!" Released from the hug, Clarice was relieved to receive a lick on the hand from Major. She'd had time to see all the other property signs by now. "And it really is your town, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"How much of it do you own?"

"Pretty much all of the commercial properties. A few of the households, but not many. I don't want the bother with tenants, and I only need a couple for my own needs."

"I see." Clarice shook her head in astonishment. "It took me a lot of time and hard work to buy my own house. How could you have come to own so many Bowerstone shops? Unless bounties in this world are so much more generous, or wages extremely high, you must never stop working."

"Not in the least! Its been years since I've picked up a blacksmith's hammer, though I sometimes work behind The Cow's bar, just for fun. I remember one occasion when I spiked the drinks and made absolutely everyone drunk! Which reminds me, that new body of yours must be feeling very hungry and thirsty. Why don't we go to The Cow for drinks and a decent meal? I guarantee a high quality of service there, and I can tell you how I came to own it, and all the rest."

Clarice touched her stomach. Unsurprisingly it felt completely empty. "I'm starving. Lead on!"

Celeste leaned back in her chair, and gave a proprietorial wave. "Order what you like on the house! It still has to go through the books, of course, but it all comes out of the profits. The same goes for anything else you want to buy here in Bowerstone. We'll go shopping later to kit you out. My second favourite pastime."

Clarice surveyed the interior of The Cow and Corset. It was packed with clients, many of whom she recognised, including some she wouldn't normally expect to see breakfasting in such lavish style. Bowerstone people seemed to have a greater air of prosperity in this world. The landlord, Bill, was waiting to take their order, more smartly dressed than she'd ever seen him. She felt rather odd talking to him as though he were a stranger.

Carefully she said, "I'll have some apples and a glass of Spring Water please."

Celeste raised her eyebrows. "Come now, there's no need to stint yourself! Have a pie, along with the finest of our ales if you like!"

"Well, usually I don't drink except on special occasions ..."

"Consider it special! The Hoptimus Prime is excellent, and the Filet Mignon comes highly recommended."

"And I normally avoid eating meat because ..."

With a touch of impatience, Celeste said, "No problem, we've got fresh caught Westcliff Cod." Addressing the landlord, "Bring her some, with a selection of your best ales."

Clarice's embarrassment increased, and as Bill turned to go, she said hastily, "Actually I'd prefer an apple pie, if you've got one."

Bill glanced at Celeste, who rolled her eyes. "Whatever she likes. I'll have a steak one myself."

Bess the barmaid brought them a tray loaded with foaming ales. Celeste watched with a cynical eye as Clarice sipped nervously at some Portentous Stout, then raised her own tankard and drained it half empty. Wiping her lip, she asked, "Is the beer not to your liking?"

Reddening further, Clarice said, "No, its fine. I guess I'm not used to drinking so early in the morning. And on an empty stomach."

Celeste shook her head and tutted. "Clarice, I see where you're coming from on this. I appreciate the idea of keeping in fighting trim myself. But you don't have to live in this world on a permanent basis. It doesn't matter much whether you eat and drink things that are bad for your body, because you won't be inhabiting it for long. You can afford to indulge yourself for a change. Knock it back and live a little!"

"It's as well to cultivate good habits."

"Oh, go on, it won't hurt once in while. Let's get drunk! It'll help to cement our new partnership!"

"But you said we needed to go shopping and ..."

"I can shop when I'm drunk. I can fight when I'm drunk, come to that. Maybe better than when I'm sober. C'mon, down in one!"

"Really I can't ..."

"In two then … ready, steady, go!"

Not wanting to disoblige Celeste so early in their relationship, Clarice reluctantly tilted back the flagon, and imbibed a good two thirds of the contents before choking and spluttering.

"Well done! For a start anyway. Ah, the food's here!"

Bill had returned with two golden-crusted pies. The steam issuing as they were cut into wafted a rich aroma of apple and beef to Clarice's nostrils.

"Mmmm, this is the life!" Celeste bit into her Filet Mignon, then tossed a piece in Major's direction. "Feeling better now?"

Clarice was indeed experiencing a sudden sense of well-being, as the alcohol from the potent brew flowed freely into her veins. The apple pie was also one of the most delicious she'd ever tasted. Perhaps Celeste was right. She'd kept herself on too tight a leash. It surely wouldn't hurt to let her hair down occasionally.

Suppressing the urge to belch indecorously, she said, "Better than for quite a while, actually!"

"Splendid! Major's happier too, aren't you boysy woysy?" The dog finished devouring the meat pie, then gave a joyful-sounding bark.

"Can I have your autograph, please, Blade?" A girl of about ten years old had summoned up the courage to approach the table. A group of younger children were watching her from a distance.

Celeste took the proffered quill and parchment with an air of mock solemnity and signed it with a flourish. Then as she returned it, she gave a sudden loud burp. The girl and her friends all burst into giggles. Clarice couldn't help joining in.

Winking to indicate the show wasn't over, Celeste circled her hand in Major's direction. "Roll over, boy!" The dog flipped onto his back, all four paws waving in the air, providing the children with further amusement. "Now, play dead!" The dog gave a questioning whine, then rolled to one side, still wriggling his limbs.

Celeste frowned slightly. "He's still having trouble with that one; he seems to need me to do it first. Unfortunately that nearly always upsets people." She shrugged. "He's really more of a fighting dog, though he can be a big soppy thing too. Who's a clever boy then? He's learned one more trick that I'll show you later."

Clarice discreetly forbore to mention that her own dog, Rex, could flawlessly execute over half-a-dozen different tricks. On the other hand, his abilities in battle were limited to frisking round enemies in a playful manner, at best providing them with a distraction, and consequently she often left him safely at home. While Major didn't look the kind of dog children would happily play with, she imagined he would fearlessly tear enemies apart at the least provocation.

She turned her attention back to Celeste. Given a chance to observe her appearance in greater detail, she tried hazarding a guess at the riches represented merely by the dazzling jewellery she wore. The many rings on her fingers were studded with diamonds and emeralds, each with a value of thousands of gold pieces. The golden choker around her neck shimmered with sapphires, and magnificent opals hung from her earrings.

But that's a mere fraction of the total wealth at her command.

Celeste seemed to divine the focus of her interest, and unselfconsciously touched her earlobes. "I can afford a few trinkets like these, of course. Would you like to know how." When Clarice nodded her assent, she continued, "It wasn't that hard really … except perhaps at the start. Mostly because I had to resist Therese's badgering. But if I'd spent all the money I earned from smithy work on adventuring equipment, I'd never have got my enterprises off the ground. Instead I invested every penny in trading. Do you remember how, when we were children, we helped to clean up crime in Bowerstone Old Town by helping the militia with warrants?" Clarice nodded. "The town became more prosperous and peaceful as a result, and in gratitude the shopkeepers allowed me a discount. That was all I needed. I bought goods there at cheap prices, then sold them in Bowerstone market at a profit. Within quite a short time, I'd accumulated enough gold to buy my first shop, which happened to be the pie stall. And that was just the start. Soon the proceeds from that business allowed me to buy more properties, like the blacksmith's and the apothecary's. Not only did I make even more profits, I could acquire weapons and most anything else I needed at wholesale prices. The whole thing snowballed from then on, and I was able to concentrate on quests like clearing bandits from the road to Oakfield, while other people made my money for me. That's the way to do business!"

"You make it sound so simple."

"That's because it was … once I'd scented the opportunities, and made the most of them. You could've done the same … with a little patience."

Clarice shook her head. "I guess I listened to Therese when she said people needed my help urgently."

"Oh, she's always like that, nagging that everything has to be done at once! Nonsense! I'll do things at my own pace, and in my own way. Its worked well enough up to now."

Clarice shrugged. "I suppose you can't argue with success."

"Exactly! Anyway, its not too late for you to try when you get back home."

"Home? Yes, though its tempting to think this is my home, it isn't really. I can already see how things aren't the same. I mean everything ..." Clarice made an all-encompassing gesture "the whole town, not just you, seems richer, cleaner and brighter."

"Naturally! All of my trading has boosted the local economy, and everyone's better off. I mean, look at Matilda from the furniture store over there. She used to wear dowdy dresses and scrub the floor of her shop. Now she wears finery like a duchess and has a maid to clean up."

Clarice sighed. "It makes me wonder … whether I made the right choices."

"You made them, and you have to live by them, same as I do." Seeing that Clarice looked somewhat crestfallen, she said, "Cheer up! No doubt some good came of yours too. Have another beer! Make the most of your time here." With a nudge, "Some of the locals have been eyeing you up. Bess the barmaid, for one."

Clarice gave a shocked glance towards the bar. The pretty, dark-haired girl was busy polishing glasses, but noticing the attention, she made bright eyes in Clarice's direction.

"But I … how could she … I mean …" Clarice's face had gone red as beet.

Celeste looked innocent. "I guess some people pick up signals … or imagine they do."

"Imagine is right." Clarice spoke shakily. Trying to regain her composure, she said with attempted firmness. "I am, after all, married."

Celeste nodded. "Of course. And naturally you intend to remain faithful, despite being in a completely different universe, where your spouse ..."

"My husband ..."

"Where your husband couldn't possibly find out should you decide to cheat on him. With either sex."

Clarice looked sharply at Celeste, who maintained her guileless expression. "I … certainly don't intend to … sleep with the first strumpet to bat her eyelashes at me. Even if I was interested in a woman which, of course ..."

"Clarice." Celeste interrupted. "If that's the case, then there's no need to get yourself so excited. Otherwise I might suspect there was something in it. Let's … wait … look who's crawled out of his filthy hole! Now's my chance to show you that trick I mentioned. I think you'll enjoy this."

Following Celeste's glance, Clarice perceived that a fugitive figure in old, shabby clothes was sneaking furtively down the Cow's main stairway. She recognised him immediately. It was Jeeves. He looked if anything more down-at-heel than she remembered, and far more nervous.

Celeste deliberately faced away from him, turning up her collar, and hunching down in her seat. Jeeves appeared not to notice her. He walked up to the bar, and tried to attract Bill's attention.

While he was distracted, Celeste rose from her seat, and stole forward to hide behind one of the tavern's pillared supports. As Jeeves opened his mouth in an attempt to ask for service, she emitted a low, growling noise like a wild animal at bay.

Jeeves started, and looked round in alarm. Celeste stopped growling. Jeeves apprehensively mopped his brow, staring around fearfully, before eventually shaking his head and turning back to the bar. While he was signalling unsuccessfully to Bess, Celeste growled again, this time adding several ululating howls like a Balverine on the hunt. Jeeves nearly jumped out of his skin. A titter ran round the tavern. Unlike Jeeves, most of the customers could see Celeste hiding, and were enjoying the joke immensely.

Jeeves fixed his eyes in fascinated terror on the pillar, from behind which increasingly loud growls were coming. Just as it seemed he must break and run, Celeste sprang from concealment, letting out a deafening howl, and raising her arms in a threatening fashion. Jeeves gave a shriek, and seemed about to faint. Then, as roars of laughter began to ring in his ears, he apprehended the true situation, and a flush coloured his parchment-like cheeks.

Regarding him in jocular fashion, Celeste said reprovingly, "What's up, Jeeves? Did you think Lucien had sent a were-beast to claim your soul at last. You know, he probably will one day." Then, spitting with contempt, "Why, you lily-livered chicken!"

She began to parade up and down in front of the increasingly embarrassed ex-butler, throwing out her chest, flapping her arms and clucking like an affrighted fowl. The whole tavern shook with laughter at the performance. Jeeves had no choice but to stand miserably and endure the ridicule. While he did so, Major ambled up to him, cocked a leg and urinated over his trousers. The jeering reached a crescendo of noise.

"Who taught him to do that?" Celeste turned towards Clarice with a broad grin on her face. Clarice was laughing with everyone else, it was almost impossible not to. But the laughter wasn't the heroic kind that came from the soul. Celeste's trick was a kind of revenge, even if it was in the wrong universe. Yet somehow it didn't feel quite right.

"Do you think I'm showing a little too much …?"

Clarice regarded her reflection somewhat doubtfully. The loose, light green blouse was knotted below her breasts, exposing her belly, and thereby displaying even more skin than the outfit from the Orb. But the tell-tale Will lines were completely absent from her new body, and much of her inhibition about showing it off had gone with them.

Celeste laughed. "That's the point, isn't it? It's why most of the young blades and would-be female adventurers want to wear them. I can take modest credit for the fad; I discovered the original shirt in a chest behind one of those Demon Doors. You would not believe the humiliating things I had to do to persuade it to open! Anyway, within days the Bowerstone clothiers were copying the style, and now everyone wants to have one." She looked Clarice up and down. "I think it suits you; you don't want to look like a fuddy-duddy prude, do you? Right … I suggest matching it with some stripy trousers, maybe these grey-white ones?"

She turned to pick up a pair of breeches from amongst the many garments already laid out for inspection on the shop table. They had already spent nearly an hour in the Bit Of Skirt boutique. "Let's do the fun part of shopping first," Celeste had suggested. "I'm sure you'll want to choose more than one outfit for yourself."

So they had passed the sound of hammering and the sparks flying from the blacksmith's forge nearer at hand, and walked up Fairfax road. Clarice had looked at the flowers blooming in the neat gardens, and felt a pang of loss, when she remembered Valerie playing on the now-empty lawn of The Steel Moon.

The sadness left her as she passed from sunshine to shade and back again, from the brightness of the bustling street to the dim, coolness of shop interiors. Being with Celeste was different to any relationship she'd known previously. Someone so like and yet unlike herself, who seemed to understand her so well. She had never experienced this kind of female companionship: chatting, joking and laughing intimately as they went their way about town. She felt herself becoming giddy with excitement, like a teenager on her first romantic assignation. She was in truth a little drunk, but in a delightfully buoyant fashion, as though she was walking on air. Bowerstone seemed suffused in a haze of light and colour, as if sketched by a painter trying to capture an impression of flowing dresses, dignified frock coats, ornate, stained-glass windows and tall houses of oak and brick.

Leaving the boutique, laden with their purchases, they felt the heat of mid-summer striking up from the cobbles, as the sun heightened towards noon. There was only a brief opportunity to bask in its rays, as they almost immediately entered the town's style salon, I'll Cut You.

Clarice had been contemplating changing her hair back to a more familiar hue, but Celeste strongly disagreed. "Honestly, it looks fine as it is." She gently ruffled Clarice's fringe with her fingers. "Like spun gold! It goes with your beautiful, blue eyes." Clarice blushed at the compliment, and Celeste continued, "What you really need is some bolder eye-shadow and lip-gloss to emphasize your best features. You look just a little washed-out at the moment." Observing Clarice's alarmed reaction, she added quickly, "Oh, it doesn't have to be as gothic-looking as mine! A light blue shade combined with pink lip-stick would do the job perfectly."

Clarice sighed and relaxed back in a chair, while Miriam the stylist washed her hair, not strictly necessary, but pleasantly refreshing. Celeste had removed her robes, revealing a velvet waist coat and cream-coloured blouse, with a ruff and puffed sleeves, usually the mark of a noble woman of the city, matching with her dark trousers and high boots for an elegantly dashing look. Everything she wears or owns is of the highest quality.

"I use this make-up combination myself," Miriam said, leaning forward to carefully apply the lipstick. "Hope you enjoy it!"

Clarice was contemplating the finished effect in the mirror, as Celeste came to lean over her shoulder. There was no doubt that the glossy pinkness of her lips, and brightening effect around her eyes, combined with her knotted shirt, gave her an altogether racier appearance.

Squeezing her arm affectionately, Celeste said, "You look great! I'm going to have to fight off twice as many admirers as before!"

A warm flush rising to her ears, Clarice was aware she was mugging like a maniac. She hadn't felt this good for so long. And Celeste was being so nice.

A small voice in her head whispered that Celeste was the real hero here, and that she could only ever play second fiddle to her. A hero's charisma wasn't simply a matter of appearance; factors such as reputation, wealth, and personal relationships all played a part. She, Clarice, had none of those in this universe. Celeste might simply be using flattery to play on her vanity. After all, she had every reason to butter her up, when she needed her help so badly.

But for now, it was easier to ignore the whisper.

Outside in the warmth of mid-afternoon, Celeste stooped to pat Major, who greeted them with a fiercely wagging tail. "Now we can get down to the real business of the day!"

The heat and red glow of the furnace, the brimstone smell of burning charcoal, and the grunts of Tal the Blacksmith hammering a fresh-forged blade, were all familiar to Clarice. Less so the contents of the weapon racks at the back of his shop.

She took down a shimmering cutlass and examined it with awe. "I've never seen workmanship so fine! Did you make this here yourself?"

Tal paused to wipe the sweat from his bearded visage. "No, indeed, though I hope that one day I may learn the secrets of such craftsmanship. All such that you see were imported from Westcliff. Since Blade here ..." he made a respectful bow to Celeste, "opened up the carriage route to that benighted town, we've gained access to weapons that only Crucible fighters could purchase. And those, I understand, were brought across the seas from remote lands, where the craft of the ancients is preserved. I intend to maintain a supply to folks who can afford them. They exceed the excellence of ordinary steel, as that does iron."

Celeste nodded. "They do indeed. Look!" She drew a slender, curved sword from her baldric. "Have you ever seen the like? I bought it recently in exchange for the one you hold. So light, yet strong, and it cuts like a razor!"

Clarice examined both weapons, noting that the double slots in each were occupied by augments of a type unknown to her.

Returning the second to Celeste, she said, "I'm accustomed to using a straighter blade. But this ..." she indicated the cutlass "is so well-balanced, it handles as easily as a lighter sword."

The blacksmith said, "At present that and a katana like Blade's are the only Master melee weapons in the shop. And naught but the one in your hand has two augments."

Celeste said, "Why don't you try it? Against me. Now!"

Clarice gave a nervous laugh. "Are you serious?"

"Of course! Show me your technique!"

Tal said, "You're welcome, if you would care to step outside where there's more room."

"No problem. Hold Major for me, will you. Its probably better he doesn't get involved."

Feeling a little apprehensive, Clarice followed Celeste from the gloom of the workshop into the sunlight of the Town square. Seeing the two swords held bare, the Sheriff came forward to remonstrate.

Celeste waved him back. "It's only a weapon trial, Bart. Just make sure no one gets close enough to get hurt."

There was scarcely any need for her admonition, as the townsfolk in the square had scattered at the sight of the drawn weapons, and were giving the potential combatants the widest possible berth. Some small children had burst into tears, and were being comforted by their parents.

Clarice observed that Celeste had taken up a confident stance, her katana held relaxed in a manner that was almost arrogant. Is she so sure that she's the better swordswoman? Perhaps she wants to put me in my place. Well, I'll show her my skills aren't to be discounted!

Without issuing a formal challenge, she began the practice fight with a flourish, then followed it up with a rapid series of cuts and feints, hoping to use the heavier cutlass to overpower Celeste's defence.

Celeste easily dodged the flourish, effortlessly parried all of her strikes, and contemptuously disdained to respond to the feints.

Clarice pressed harder, trying to chain together a series of attacks. The result was the same. She paused for breath and to take stock of her opponent. She found Celeste's serene expression more than a little irritating, her smile mocking.

"Is that your best? Now, guard yourself!"

The katana whirled towards her faster than she'd imagined anyone could strike. She parried by pure instinct. It seemed that only luck and the superior design of her weapon allowed her to hold her ground. Desperately she attempted a counter attack, trying to catch her opponent off guard.

Celeste countered the counter, coming close to bringing off a disarming stroke to pluck the cutlass from her grasp. With a supreme effort, Clarice managed to keep hold of it, somehow fending off the follow up slashes as well.

Now she saw that Celeste was frowning slightly. She resumed the attack, more fiercely than before. She's starting to take this seriously. Its supposed to be a trial – someone could get hurt if it goes on like this!

Again Clarice required every ounce of her skill to maintain her defence, but she could not prevent herself from being forced backwards, towards the steps in front of the central clock tower. Backing up them, she was finally able to balance the advantage in height Celeste held over her, but it was not enough to halt her opponent's advance.

Suddenly Celeste's forward foot snaked out, tripping her. At the same time, she parried inside, then seized Clarice's sword arm and thrust her back against the stone work. The katana blade was held within an inch of her throat.

For a moment they maintained the tableau, breast to breast, panting hard. Then Celeste laughed shortly, and lowered her sword. "I knew I'd best you. No one's ever been able to beat me. But you're good ... much better than I expected. I doubt I've ever fought against a finer opponent."

Still panting, Clarice said, "I always fight to win. This is the first time I've lost." Celeste's praise seemed hollow while the shame of defeat still gripped her. And … she cheated!

"Don't take it too hard. You've only been beaten by yourself, after all. C'mon, we've still got plenty to do. There's a repeater crossbow at the blacksmith's I want you to try."

"You have a lucky face, lady. Maybe my stones will bring you luck."

For this amount of gold, they ought to. Even if I'm not paying.

Clarice squinted down the Master crossbow sight, aware of the red and yellow glint of the newly installed augments, concentrating on the first of six targets crudely sketched on the wall. She released the trigger, swung the crossbow and aimed for the second, instantly unleashing another missile.

By the time the reloading mechanism had begun to operate, each of the six targets had a burning bolt embedded in its rough centre.

"Not bad at all! You ought to try for the Westcliff shooting prize some time." Celeste clapped her hands. "Whether you can hit moving targets with that degree of accuracy … no doubt we'll find out soon enough."

Clarice turned back to the gypsy stonecutter, reminding herself not to address him as though she'd known him since childhood. That was becoming a common occurrence. Nearly all the shopkeepers were the same as in her universe, Phillippa the bookseller and Valery the jeweller being the only ones missing. Perhaps the two Bowerstones weren't so far apart after all. Up to now, the main differences had been wealth and the availability of expensive goods; and, of course, the fact that no one knew her from Eve.

She said, "It looks as though your stones have proved their worth."

He inclined his head, setting his several earrings jingling against one another. "Indeed, lady. May good fortune go with you."

Curtsying to acknowledge the traditional gypsy farewell, Clarice cast her mind back to her first trip along this backstreet. The sun had been setting then, as now, when Therese had told her about the Spire, and the five cards that would decide her fate: the Relic, the Pilgrim, the Mage, the Thief, the Choice.

The Choice. Since she'd come here, she'd begun to feel that too many decisions were being taken for her, in the same way that everything she'd bought had been paid for by someone else. By Celeste. She may own most of Bowerstone. She doesn't own me. I have to remember that.

As they walked back towards the town square, Celeste said, "I think that's enough shopping for the day. Clothes, weapons, potions and augments. That covers all the essentials." She grinned. "If you want something out of the ordinary, like a tattoo, we'll have to go somewhere else, like Bower Lake."

Clarice hesitated. "I'd love to go there anyway, just to see ..." She hadn't ventured to acquire any fresh tattoos since her teenage years, mainly because she hadn't wanted to mingle them with the glowing, esoteric lines that already marked her. Those from her teens were embarrassing enough, but at least they were hidden most of the time. Now that she had a blank canvas to write on, perhaps a little experimentation wouldn't hurt.

"Don't worry, we'll go soon enough. I could hardly not take you to meet Mistress Therese at the Guild." Celeste rolled her eyes, and Clarice thought she looked rather like a school girl given an onerous assignment by her teacher. "Anyway, don't be ashamed to ask if you want any tattoos in naughty places." She winked. "I have some myself I could show you."

Clarice was spared further blushes, because at that moment Major barked warningly, and then immediately began to creep forward, issuing a low growl. In the twilight dimness of the narrow street, Clarice was able to make out several dark-robed figures, swathed like mummies up to their heads in black cloth. They were surrounding the cringing shape of a woman, dressed in the rich and respectable garments of a well-to-do citizen of the town. There was the flash of a blade being drawn, and a low moan of terror.

"Please ... don't kill me!"

Slavers? Assassins? Here … in Bowerstone?! Before she could react, the woman had been hustled out of sight by her assailants.

Celeste bounded forward, following Major. "C'mon!"

Clarice was only a pace behind her. She was already preparing her spells, taking into account that an innocent civilian might be in close proximity to the targets. Blades was uppermost in her mind, with Force Push next to it.

They rapidly turned the corner into another shadowy side-street. About halfway down it, the black-clad shapes were gathered around a doorway, but they about-faced immediately. One was holding a short sword to the woman's throat. The other two drew identical weapons and advanced.

Celeste charged straight towards them, Major running at her heels. Clarice weighed priorities, selected Blades and cast it at the woman's captor. He remained completely oblivious to the golden spears of light hovering above him like swords of Damocles, until they stabbed downwards into his neck.

At the last possible moment, Celeste drew her sword and slashed at her closest opponent. He collapsed with the katana through his guts, Major leaping up to overbear him to the ground. Celeste withdrew the bloodied blade, and lunged high at the second swordsman. He darted aside, then executed an elaborate parry to block her follow up stroke, continuing to foil her attacks as he backed off.

Clarice re-concentrated her Will, directing the full force of it to fling him against the nearest wall, disarmed and winded. Convinced that the fight was over, and the woman safe, she strolled forward without bothering to deploy her newly acquired weapons. But Celeste still held the katana naked, and she moved menacingly towards her helpless foe.

He held up his hand in a desperate appeal, "Wait, Cel …"

Without hesitation, Celeste thrust her sword through his throat, his final words ending in a gurgle, his eyes glazing in death.

Clarice stifled an exclamation of horror. Celeste was already turning away to confront the distraught woman, who had fallen to her knees in front of her.

"Oh, Blade, thank you! If you hadn't come, I don't know what would have happened to me!" Her voice was distinctly upper-class.

"They would've probably held you prisoner until a large ransom was paid." Celeste spoke with sang-froid. Smiling thinly, she added, "But they've cashed in their last payment."

"Yes, the wicked murderers! You gave them what they deserved." The woman regained her feet, and executed a shaky curtsey. "Thank you so much, you're an angel! I'll tell everyone how you saved me. And please accept this token of my gratitude ..."

Celeste made a negative sign. "This is what I do. Your thanks is enough. Now go home and rest." She sighed and sheathed her sword. The woman curtsied again, before walking away, occasionally looking back uncertainly.

Once she appeared to be out of earshot, Clarice asked abruptly, "Why did you kill him?"

Celeste aimed a half-hearted kick at the corpse. "Because he was the scum of the earth, like all of them."

"That's not good enough!"

"I need a better reason?"

"No. But he was unarmed and helpless. We could've interrogated him."

Celeste rested her chin on one hand to regard Clarice. "To what purpose?"

"Naturally to find out why in Skorm's name he was kidnapping people in your town!"

"I thought that was obvious. For money."

"Yes … b, but." Clarice was stammering with the urgency of expressing her outrage. "I … I mean how was he getting away with it!"

"He didn't." Celeste sounded bored.

Clarice tried to compose herself and her thoughts. She had to persuade Celeste to take this seriously.

"Look … this kind of thing doesn't happen in Bowerstone anymore. Not my Bowerstone anyway."

Celeste folded her arms, "Just what are you implying, Clarice?"

"I'm … I'm not saying my world is necessarily better. The people here are certainly a lot richer. But are they safer? When someone's almost kidnapped right off the street, its no laughing matter."

"Do you see me laughing?"

"Please … stop replying to me so glibly. We need to deal with this."

"I'm not sure what you want me to do." Celeste maintained an even tone of voice. "All right. I'll get the Sheriff to investigate. Examine the bodies for clues, and so on." She gave Clarice a sidelong glance. "If that'll make you happy?"

Clarice tossed her head. "If that's the best you can come up with."

"Good. We'll do that, and then we'll go home."

"Home?"

"To my home in Old Town Road." Celeste smiled. "I thought you might want to meet my spouse."

The Final Lap was, appropriately enough, the last house in Bowerstone before the gates leading to the Old Town. It was neither the largest, nor the most imposing building, and could have easily been overlooked by passers. Except that it was one of the few private dwellings owned by a hero.

It simply isn't large enough for a family house, barely adequate even for a couple. Why choose this one, when you could afford to live in any house in town?

Clarice still felt angry and frustrated. Even after Bartholomew the Sheriff had conducted a thorough examination of the deceased kidnappers, assisted by two militia men and Seth the alchemist, she had a strong sense of a missed opportunity. The dead men had told them no tales. They had no significant possessions apart from their weapons, and no distinguishing marks other than their black wrappings.

There'd been a chance to capture one alive. And then Celeste had killed him. Why? She could think of no reason that made sense. And what had the man been trying to say before he died? It almost sounded as though … but no, she must have misheard him.

Nevertheless she was determined not to transfer her irritation at Celeste's behaviour to her spouse. That wouldn't be fair. It looked too, as though the still unseen person kept the house in excellent condition. In the early dusk, the welcoming glow of lamp light shone through spotless windows. There were fresh flowers in the outside boxes, and the doorstep was swept clean. Crossing the threshold, she noticed the sink was gleaming, and the dishes stacked neatly on nearby shelves. She recalled coming home tired from adventuring to find Alex had once again neglected to do the washing up. Her spouse must be a real treasure. Unlike mine.

Even this brief inspection of the ground floor showed her that, despite the Final Lap's outwardly modest appearance, its interior décor was exceptionally luxurious. The furniture was exquisitely carved out of the finest materials. The oak table was set with porcelain dishes, crystal glasses and solid silver cutlery. The sink was marble with gold taps, and the cast iron oven range was the most modern in design.

Sprawling on a rosewood chair upholstered in red leather, and nonchalantly resting her boots on the table, Celeste announced loudly, "I'm home … and I've brought a guest with me!"

"A guest … how exciting!" A voice lilted from upstairs. "I'll be down in just a minute … after I've powdered my nose!"

Her spouse … is a woman?

Celeste said offhandedly, "Naturally she wants to look her best!"

The sound of heels on the stairs, the swish of fine silk.

"Oh, you poor thing, you look tired! I'll make us some dinner. Now, who is this?"

Clarice gaped in astonishment, unable to stifle an exclamation.

"Valery!"

*Good Morning Universe: continuing the sequence of musical-themed chapters, this is the title and opening line to a Toyah Wilcox song from the eighties new wave. Currently I've no clue as to what the next one will be!

When I spiked the drinks: another xbox live achievement.

The humiliating things I had to do to persuade it to open: as I recall these included wearing a tart skirt and a mutton chop beard (even though my character was female).

The Steel Moon: I have to admit that either in error or deliberately (I forget which) I misplaced Clarice's home in Fairfax Road. The Steel Moon is really in Market Street of the Old Town. Probably I preferred the name to the house that is actually there (The Nice House).

An innocent civilian: I don't see turning the 'safety' for civilians on and off is something that easily translates into 'reality'. Area effect spells like Inferno would inevitably run the risk of collateral damage, and only a skilled marks(wo)man could pick out hostile targets from friendly in a crowded melee.

Her spouse is a woman: Fable 2 was amazingly progressive in allowing same-sex marriage in Albion even before my own (UK) government legalized it. Despite this, not everyone agrees it to be 'normal', and I've reflected that in the story.

Well this chapter has again been a struggle, but I'm still enjoying it, and this has been a large installment for you. It may be that I have to return to my other fic before continuing, as that has been neglected for some time. Still I will do everything possible to speed things along.

One most unfortunate incident that slowed them down was the corruption of my one and only Fable 2 save. It was a devastating blow, but I quickly bounced back, and have now got to the point where I'm fully levelled up and almost ready for the final confrontation again. Most of the names of ordinary folk were changed, and I had to marry new spouses (I'm a serial bigamist!)

Although I understand the reason the game designers made it impossible to keep more than one save, they might also have thought of the awful risks run by players. But I was greatly helped by others on Xbox live who kindly offered gifts. Perhaps the donation of 100 million gold pieces (!) was a bit excessive (and unneeded) but there were plenty of others that saved me much time and trouble. And I'm never going in that bloody Hobbes cave again!*