Tuesday December 12 2006

The Island

Anna blinked and opened her eyes. Aja stared down at her impassively. Anna said, "Longer this time. Is that good or bad?"

"Good, I should say," her sister said. "We were able to dig deeper this time. I expect you to have three days before your next relapse."

They were alone in the exam room. Anna said, "Where are the others?"

"On assignment. They'll be back in a few days." The chestnut-haired cyber's eyebrows rose a centimeter. "Did you miss not having them waiting at your bedside?"

"Just wondering. Can I get up?"

"Just lie there for a moment. I want to talk to you about something." Aja stared into her sister's eyes. "One told you that you can expect more events like this as your components reach the end of their service life."

"So did you, at the playground in California. And Alexia has been nagging me about tweaking my sensor suite. I hope this isn't the start of another attempt to talk me into the maintenance upgrade."

"Not the full upgrade. You'd find the nanite repair system useful, even without rejoining the gestalt. Not for something like this, it's a software problem, but you'd be spared physical breakdowns resulting from wear and tear. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"No gestalt? I thought they needed a support network."

"They certainly work more efficiently that way, but it's not strictly necessary. The nanos will have to be replaced regularly - they get corrupted after enough replications, so they'd have to be programmed to excrete and go inert after a time, or on command. You'd have to come back for a day or two, say, three or four times a year, for a flush. And any further software glitches will have to be taken care of here as well. That shouldn't be a problem for a while; I did some preventative maintenance work while I was under the hood."

"What sort of 'preventative maintenance work'?"

"Clearing away bits and pieces of that kludge work that was still lodged in your drive. Don't worry, you won't notice any change, aside from possibly thinking more clearly."

"No downloads. No Easter eggs, no back doors or trigger sequences or overrides. No-"

"Sister, no. There will be no downloads or anything else put into you without your consent, all right?" Anna was shocked to see pleading in her eyes. "Just trust me for one millisecond, will you please?"

She hesitated. "All right." Another hesitation. "How? And when?"

"We can start now, if you want. But we won't be done today. It's not as simple as swallowing a thimbleful of micromachines and letting them get to work. It has to be done a bit at a time. There are actually twenty types – four types following twenty sets of instructions, rather – and we need to introduce them to your system a few at a time, to make sure they're following instructions properly, and working together and not competing for resources or territory. Also, you're going to have to provide them with raw material from time to time. You'll need to communicate with them, in a rudimentary way at least, so you can monitor what they're up to and what they require."

"Provide them with raw materials," Anna said. "How, exactly, would I do that?"

A tiny smile touched the corner of Aja's mouth. "You eat from time to time, don't you?"

"To be sociable, and as a deception. We all do, don't we?"

"Well, now it will be a necessity. It seems that we're going to be making you a little more human." She offered Anna a shot-sized plastic container that appeared to be full of gray paint. "I'll activate them once they're in your storage. Your mouth and throat will tingle for a little while afterward. Come to me sometime tomorrow, and I'll do some performance checks."

Anna swallowed the thick, cool liquid. "Are you sure you're going to be here tomorrow? I thought you were all busy killing people this time of year."

"The others are. But, until you're ready to leave here, sister, you are my primary assignment. We want you fully operational as quickly as possible with no delays."

"So that I can fulfill my end of the deal as quickly as possible with no delays?"

"You can come back for that if you need to." Aja looked away. "But you've already missed your husband's birthday. If you can, don't you want to… spend Christmas with your family?"

"I'm sorry, Aja." She swung her legs over the side of the exam chair. "I know you have good intentions. Even in that schoolyard, all you had was good intentions. But I have to be the one to decide what's best for me."

"I know," Aja said. "All we're trying to do is give you choices."

She nodded. "Thank you, Sister. I'll see you tomorrow." Anna impulsively gripped Aja's forearm briefly on her way to the door.

The chestnut-haired cyber stared unmoving at the door as it closed. (Ironic, isn't it? We can only get away with this because she's not in gestalt. Otherwise she'd know.)

^If she were still in gestalt,^ One said, ^this deception wouldn't be necessary.^

-0-

In her warm kitchen, Madre kneaded the last of her loaves, shaped it, and placed it in the pan. "You're squirming like a worm on a hook, child. Do you want to go out and play?"

Carmen, perched on a tall stool a step away, shook her head. "There's nobody to play with."

"Surely everyone's not off in the woods like your brother." She placed the pan in the warm oven and set the timer. "What about Luce, or Ada?"

The girl stared at a spot on the wall. "They're sick. They can't come out."

Madre's lips thinned. Still turned away, she said lightly, "What about the new girl, the blonde one? She's a little young for you, but I doubt she has many friends yet." And perhaps her parents hadn't been warned not to let their child get too close to the new Mistress's little pet.

"I can't understand her," Carmen said. "I don't know what she's speaking, but it isn't Spanish. Or English."

"Her parents speak both. Maybe you could help them teach her."

"I should stay here," Carmen said. "She's going to send for me soon. They put her to sleep again, I know, but soon she'll wake up and want me."

Madre let out a soft breath. Carmen had spoken true, but it was painful to see the child so eager to run to one of them for refuge from the loneliness imposed on her by her own kind. "She sent for you in the morning last time. If no word comes down the hill by midday, I'll take you and Aziza somewhere for a play date." And woe to anyone who refused to open their door to her, she thought. "I'm thinking of making cookies. Would you like that?"

"Is there enough sugar? We ran out last month."

"Plenty. I made a trade with Jescha for some tomatoes from the garden." The extra baking would exhaust their flour ration, but the next shipment wasn't that far off, she thought; they would make do.

As she stirred dry ingredients in her bowl, Madre said, "You like her." Her tone made clear that she wasn't speaking of the new girl.

"I want to," the girl answered. "But I'm afraid of her. I don't think it's just her hand they're working on. Katrin says that when they're out in the world, out in public, they act just like normal people, like a switch flips in their heads, and no one can tell they're not like everyone else. She seems so nice, and she talks like there are people she loves. But… what if her switch is just sticky? What if that's what they're trying to fix? And when they're done with her, she's just like them?"

A fist pounded on the outside door. "Madre?" A man's voice. "Are you there?"

"As if you don't smell bread baking, Julian," she called back as she rinsed her hands. "Come in."

Julian, one of the castle's gate wardens, entered the kitchen, cap in hand. "She's at the gate. I think she just woke up again."

Madre glanced at little Carmen. The girl said, "I'm ready."

"No." Julian squeezed his cap. "She didn't send me to fetch her. She wants me to ask you… if this is a good time to visit."

"Dios mio," she said. She looked around the little kitchen and, through the open doorway, at the small living area. She had sanitized the little house just a few days before; there had been little time to mess it up again, even with a dozen children running in and out. She still felt uneasy as she said, "Tell her that she is welcome here."

"Why does she even ask?" He said. "She must know that no one would dare deny her anything."

"She's polite," Madre said. "Haven't you noticed?"

"Oh, yes, she knows how to say 'please' and 'thank you,' even in Spanish," he said. "But she seems just as used to giving orders as any of the others, put them as requests as much as she likes."

"She has five children," Carmen said. The two adults turned her way. "Of course she knows how to give orders."

Julian and Madre traded a look. He said, "I'll go back and fetch her."

Carmen slid off the stool. "I'll come with you, and bring her back. Then you can stay at your post."

"I have something to do first," he said. "I'll come back for you in a few minutes." Julian left. Madre knew that he would be knocking on other doors on this street, telling people that a Mistress was on her way to the village. Word would spread like a fire, and by the time Carmen returned with her guest, the whole population would be out of sight, tensely waiting for further news or instructions.

-0-

"I'm glad you came up to walk with me to the village." Anna clasped Carmen's hand, swinging their arms gently as they ventured down the mild downslope, headed toward the sea and the little bay and the cluster of buildings that lined it. "I'm sure Julian would have escorted me if you hadn't. He's not a young man, it's good that he didn't have to do all the extra walking down and up."

The girl's hand stiffened in hers. "How do you know his name?"

Anna smiled. She didn't call me 'Mistress.' "From you, just a few minutes ago, when you said goodbye to him at the gate. Why, is there a reason I shouldn't know his name?"

"No, no, I just-" She stopped herself. "You're learning."

"It's what I do," she said. "I like learning new things. And there's always more to learn about people." She swung their hands again. "How long has Madre been here, do you know?"

"She was one of the first, I think," Carmen said. "Really, she's an elder, but she doesn't help run the village. The only thing she runs is the nursery."

"And you and Suli are sisters?"

"We are now. Suli came to us when I was… six, I think. Lux when I was eight. And Ada just last year."

"When did you come here, do you remember?"

"Oh, I was born here. Madre is my birth mother. Mine and Miguel's."

"Ah," she said. "And Lileo is your father?"

The girl's heart skipped a beat, and her grip on Anna's hand loosened. "No."

She decided that Carmen's father was a sensitive subject for the girl – a bad breakup with Madre, possibly, or an outright desertion by the father. She decided to let it go, and perhaps approach Madre about it when her daughter was out of earshot.

The path's decline was just steep enough to see over the rooftops to the water, and to offer an oblique overhead view of the entire village. The one-lane streets of the little community were laid out around the bay in a series of concentric arcs, varying from two blocks deep at the ends to four in the center, sectioned by crooked lanes radiating like spokes from the curving shore. The pattern was just irregular enough to avoid looking planned, should a satellite or passing aircraft ever look down on it. The buildings were all one-story, and appeared to be built to only three plans of different square footage, presumably to accommodate families of different sizes.

As they drew closer, Anna noted that the buildings of the village were newer and less primitive than they had appeared from the hilltop. The windows had no glass, being closed only by painted wooden shutters, but the openings were plumb and square, and the shutters fit tightly into recessed jambs, making them proof against rain and drafts. The walls were plumb and square as well, and the orange tile roofs uniform and solid-looking. The first door they passed bore the number '019'. Her nostrils twitched. "Are the houses all numbered?"

"Yes. The numbers get bigger as you get closer to shore, mostly."

"Do the streets have names?"

"Oh, yes. This is the road to the castle. The first one we cross will be the fourth street from the shore."

"Very functional," she said. "The villagers gave them the names, I suppose."

"The Mistresses have no use for names."

Soon, they were among the outermost houses. The shutters and doors were all closed, and no one appeared on the street. Were they vacant, Anna wondered, or were the residents just sheltering in place, waiting for her to pass by? "Does anyone live in these houses?"

"No, Mistress," Carmen said. "Not on this street, at least until we get closer to the water." At the second cross street paralleling the shore, she turned left. "This way." Anna followed, and, half a block down the narrow curving lane, she saw Madre standing in a doorway, hands clasped in front of her, waiting for them.

"Welcome, Mistress," Madre said as they approached. Anna saw that the house was the largest type – which seemed reasonable, given the woman's status as an elder, and the number of people who shared it with her.

Anna smiled. "Thank you. Carmen has been telling me about the rest of your family. Are any of them at home?"

Madre's knuckles tightened. "No, Mistress. They're with friends."

Anna remembered Suli's terror at her 'interview' in the castle. Sent away, all of them, to minimize the commotion I present by being here. "That's a shame," she said, locking eyes with the woman. "I would have liked to meet them. And to make a better impression on Suli."

"I can send for them, if you wish."

"No need. I didn't come here to make people dash all over the village catering to my whims. Besides, this won't be the only time I come to visit, I hope." She raised her head and smiled. "What do I smell? Is that bread?"

Madre stepped back inside the house, and Anna followed, entering what appeared to be a small common room. She immediately saw that, behind the whitewashed stucco, the exterior walls were built of cement blocks, as were the interior ones. The furniture was lightweight stuff that looked made for an outdoor room or patio: a pair of canvas-upholstered couches flanking a low table, and plastic shelving full of boxes lining one wall. The floor was a concrete slab, with a large green-brown mat in the center of the room that appeared to be woven from some sort of long grass. There were other touches of color, she saw: one of the block walls was painted a light blue, and another dark red, though only from ceiling to waist height. And on the sill of the open front window sat several pots bearing clusters of tiny blooms.

"Those look like wildflowers," Anna said.

"Yes." Madre watched her carefully as she spoke. "I don't set them out front, only on the sill."

"Do they get enough light?"

"Usually. If they start looking tired, I take them out back and set them in the garden for a few days."

"Why not put them out front?"

"The… other Mistresses dislike changes to the buildings' exteriors."

"Hm," she said. "No wonder the streets look so drab. They certainly have a lot of rules, don't they?" She smiled and shook her head. "I'm only thinking out loud, Madre. I'm not trying to get you to say something I know you'd rather not."

Carmen quickly seized her hand, pulling. "Come see Madre's kitchen."

The cooking room was as large as the living area. Its sparse furnishings - stove, refrigerator, and sink – were plain but functional. The countertops were concrete slabs, smooth but unadorned and showing some wear. But all the exposed block walls were bright with paint, not in solid colors but murals.

"The kids did this?"

"Yes, Mistress."

She studied the artwork, which showed a wide range of styles and skill, from stick figures and one-dimensional buildings to creditable landscapes and portraits, one of them looking very much like Madre – if Madre ever smiled. "This looks like the work of more than half a dozen children, Madre."

"I've raised over a dozen since I've come here, Mistress. They grow up and move away."

"And she takes care of other children in the village as well," Carmen put in quickly.

"Little ones, whose parents are working?" She said to Madre, "The children whose parents disappeared into the castle for days. You took care of them?"

"Yes, Mistress." She bobbed her head. "Thank you."

Anna smiled. "I worked in a daycare center for a while. It was fun, but very challenging." In a different tone, she added, "I hate to say, but I think that the only love some of them got was when they were in my care." She caught the eyebrow twitch and eye flick that Madre sent her daughter.

Anna's attention returned to the portrait. Jack's hobby had given her some appreciation of art; to her eye, the perfect proportions and perspective of the picture, its tones and textures and shading, all spoke of years holding a brush. She detected a rise in heartrate from mother and daughter both as she studied it, and knew she wasn't being told the whole truth. Instead of pressing, she said, "Where did the paint and brushes come from? Not the weekly shipment, I'm guessing."

Madre hesitated, as if unsure what to say – or perhaps, how much. "From time to time, the Mistresses provide extra items." Another hesitation. "We think that Third Mistress requisitions them."

Don't expect me to be sympathetic. They're amusing, that's all. They're what they make of themselves, and frankly that's not much. They have more opportunities than they make use of. "Has Amanda seen these?"

Madre blinked. "Amanda?"

"The one you call Third Mistress."

"No," she said. "You are the only … one … who has been inside this house."

"Madre. Carmen told you that the others don't see through my eyes the way they do one another's. Didn't she?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"And, I think, she also told you that I promised no harm would come to the villagers through anything she reveals to me." To Carmen she said, "That's why you made sure it was you who led me into the kitchen."

The girl cast her eyes down. "I'm sorry, Mistress. Please don't be angry."

"Carmen, I have never been angry with you. I think you must love your family very much." She turned back to the older woman. "They supplied you the paint. Why don't you want them to see what you've done with it?"

"We thought… that they might disapprove. I thought about erasing them before you came, but…"

"I'm glad you changed your mind." Anna looked at the artwork again. Nearly all of the images seemed depictions of life on the island: stuccoed houses, small animals, dark-haired children at play or with adults. Bushes and small, twisted trees. A single picture of a man standing in a stone doorway, the castle looming above him. But a few of the pictures showed tall buildings like skyscrapers, and another a figure paddling a boat. And, low in one corner, easily missed, was a crudely drawn scene: a group of children huddled together, tears flying from their eyes. Nearby stood a tall man, pointing with an object in his hand that was almost certainly a pistol. On the ground between them lay a man and a woman, stiff as mannequins, their clothes smeared red. It must have been when they were taken, she thought. Are these reminders of their former lives what Madre is afraid to let my sisters see?

There was very little writing on the decorated walls: none of the pictures was captioned or signed, but in the lower corner of Madre's portrait was a character that might have been a pair of initials in cursive. "I think it makes your kitchen the happiest room in your house I've seen so far."

"There isn't much more to see," the woman said. "Just the bathroom and three bedrooms."

"Lux and Ada and I all sleep together," Carmen said, "and Madre shares her room with Suli and the little ones. But my stupid brother has a room all to himself, even though he doesn't sleep at home half the time."

"Hush," Madre said to her. "Would you rather find him on the floor in your room when you woke up in the morning?" To Anna she said, half apologetically, "He's my oldest child. He's perched at the edge of the nest, flapping his wings."

Anna smiled at Carmen. "And the breeze is getting pretty annoying. Do you have someplace to wash your clothes?"

"I do the laundry," Carmen said proudly. "One of the houses is full of tubs and machines. Everyone uses them. Dryers too, but I usually bring our clothes back to hang them on a line instead."

"Why is that?"

"I just like them better off the line."

"Hm," Anna said. "That wouldn't work at my house. I have to do laundry every day, and it rains too often. And my youngest boy has been known to stand by the dryer in his boxers waiting for it to finish. He says he likes the warmth and the smell of dryer sheets."

The girl's eyebrows drew together. "Dryer sheets?"

"Just a bit of clean cloth, soaked in something with a pleasant smell."

"Oh."

"If you had your own room, Carmen, I would have asked to see it." Anna said. "But I wouldn't want to intrude on your sisters' privacy."

"It's nothing really, hardy bigger than the bathroom, and nothing in it but a set of bunk beds. And some hooks and shelves on the wall to put things. Nothing like your room in the castle."

She reflected on that sparse chamber Aja had provided. If that was these people's idea of luxury… "Back home, each of my children has their own room, bigger than this kitchen. The house has two bathrooms, so the girls don't have to share with the boys."

The girl's eyes shone. "Oh! That sounds wonderful."

She smiled. "It is. The house is very large, with a kitchen and dining table big enough for everyone to sit down at once. The yard is small, but there's a garden on the roof, full of water and colorful blooms. I go up there every clear night to watch the sun set over the mountains. When -" Her reverie was broken by the realization that Madre was showing distress: increased heartrate and respiration, stiff posture, fear scent. "Madre, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, Mistress," the woman said, her voice tightly controlled. Her eyes flicked to her daughter. "Your home sounds very nice."

Sometimes the Mistresses take girls with them on their travels.

"Very nice," Anna said quietly, "and very far away. Forgive me, Madre. I'm proud of my house. I built a great deal of it myself. And I miss it, and my husband and children. I would very much like you and Carmen to see it someday, and meet my family. But… my sisters have shown me a great deal of courtesy, especially considering that I don't share their goals and ambitions, and bringing me here was an unnecessary risk to their security. But I'm sure their courtesy wouldn't extend to allowing me to take any of you from this island when I leave."

The woman gave her a long look and nodded. "I understand. Thank you for explaining, Mistress. Carmen, see if anything needs doing in the garden." Madre opened the oven door and bent, sleeves covering her hands, to pull out a baking pan containing a golden loaf. Still looking away from Anna, she said, "The Mistresses sometimes take… a particular interest in some of the villagers."

"I've met Etarre," Anna said. "I know she leaves this place with my sister."

Madre set the hot pan on the counter, took a knife from a drawer, and slit the top of the loaf. "Second Mistress, yes. And Third Mistress sometimes selects one companion from a handful she favors." She applied butter to the incision.

"What about Alexia? Fourth Mistress?"

"No," she said. "Never." She bent to reach deeper into the oven and removed a second loaf. "First Mistress seldom travels, but she used to keep one servant near her up at the castle, up until a year ago."

"So where is this servant now? What did she do up at the castle?"

Madre carefully slit the second loaf. "I should have said, 'one after another.'"

A memory came to her: a lamplit parking area with a basketball hoop on a telephone pole. Aja, cool and dangerous, speaking to her. You and One always had such bizarre attitudes about meats. The urge to play with the kill didn't replicate in later versions of us. One even keeps them for pets. They don't thrive in her care. When they become apathetic or … one-dimensional, shall we say … she disposes of them. "What happens to them?"

Madre shrugged a shoulder, her back still to her guest. "They go up to the castle, they don't come back. No one hears from them. A month or three later, she sends for another – men and women, she alternates. We don't know where they go, but they're not still there – the castle is large, but not that large."

"All those people, the ones with kids, who were called up to the castle and gone without word for days…"

"Yes," Madre said. "We thought we had seen the last of them."

Anna glanced toward the kitchen doorway, ears reaching for any sound of Carmen's return. She was about to ask Madre about Carmen's father when, from the back of the house, Carmen called, "Madre? Am I done out here?"

Anna smiled at the matriarch. "Stay there," she called to the girl. "I'm coming out."

The back door of the house lay at the end of a short hallway. She passed four curtained openings, two to a side, which she presumed were the bedrooms and toilet. Carmen stood at the open door, letting in sunshine and a faint breeze as she watched the two women approach.

Eight feet beyond the door was an alley so narrow that two people could barely walk abreast. On the other side was a stucco wall, blank save for another door. The area between Madre's door and the pavement on either side of the connecting path was filled with neat rows of greenery.

"It isn't much," Madre said. "Just some herbs and vegetables."

"No flowers?"

"No, Mistress." The woman's return to formal address told Anna that they had returned to cautious subjects. Having just concluded a talk about the possibility of her eldest sister selectively murdering villagers, she wondered what it was about the topic of gardening that had caused the woman to tread so carefully around her again.

"I do a bit of that myself," Anna said, stooping over a plant. "Your tomatoes are certainly thriving. I see basil and rosemary as well. What are these?"

"Just some peppers. It will be a while before they bear anything."

"Hm," she said. "Thank you for showing me your home, Madre. May I come back to visit sometime?"

"Yes, of course."

She met the woman's eyes. "How much advance notice would you require?"

Madre hesitated, then said, "You are welcome any time, Mistress."

She smiled. "Then, the next time I drop in, perhaps you could call me Anna." She took a step down the alley. "Come, Carmen. Show me the sights."

When the two left, Madre turned quickly back into the house. She went to her bedroom, and the infant sleeping in her handmade crib, and gathered her up. She hurried next door and pounded on the entrance. "Jescha!"

The door parted a crack, opening wider when the woman inside saw that Madre was alone. "She's gone?"

"She's gone with Carmen. Take Aziza for a little while, will you? I need to follow them."

-0-

The houses grew closer together, and the street narrower. But pedestrians were few, and glimpsed only at a distance before they disappeared into side streets or doorways. "If this is where most people live, where is everyone, working?"

"Some," said Carmen. "But I think the others must have gotten word we were coming."

Staying out of sight. "I take it the Mistresses don't visit often."

"Almost never," the girl said, and made a little sound as if to say more, but fell silent.

"Carmen. What?"

"Unless … they are calling us all to the town square." The girl's unease was palpable.

"Why do they call you to the town square? For announcements? I thought the village elders did that."

"No," the girl said. "The square is… where discipline is done."

Bad memories. No wonder she seems so uneasy. How like my sisters, to make everyone witness and share one person's punishment. "Carmen," she said, "can you tell me how to get to the town square? You don't need to go with me."

The girl shook her head, not looking at her. "I go where you go." She turned down the next street. "This way."

Filled with foreboding, Anna followed the girl down the silent street to the center of the little town.

The town square was an open space near the center of the village, big enough for several hundred standing people. The houses crowded closely here, but no doors or windows pierced the walls facing the little court, making it nearly a walled enclosure. Anna scanned the small plaza, noting that the close-fitted stone paving was rather like the first floor of the family home in Escondido. She said, "Do the people of the village ever gather here without a Mistress to call them, or is it-"

She stilled. In one corner of the square was a steel post, two inches in diameter and about four feet tall, its end tapering to a bullet point. It was darkly stained down its entire length, as were the stones beneath it for several feet around.

Behind her, Carmen said quietly, "It's where the traitors are punished."

She looked at the point on the stake, no higher than her shoulder blades. "They're impaled?"

"I don't know that word. They lift them up and set them on the stake, and it goes up into them. Their legs are tied to it, so they can't fall down. Sometimes there's a little platform around the bottom, so the stake doesn't go in so far. That's for the worst ones, because it takes longer."

Anna felt a strange distance fall between her and her surroundings. Faint echoes of forgotten memories tugged at her mind, memories of blood and pain. She pushed them down. "How often does this happen?"

The girl looked at her shoes as she toed a bit of gravel across the stone. "The last time, I was very little. I don't remember it really, but I was here. Everyone was here. The grownups don't talk about it, at least not with us around, but the older children do sometimes. He was caught building a raft."

-0-

They walked down toward the lagoon, silent, side by side but too far apart to touch. Anna wrestled with vague, disturbing images continually rising to the surface of her mind. She took a quick survey of her file management system: as expected, the Alpha file was unzipped and ready for download, responding to a perceived threat. She pushed it to the bottom of her priority list and compressed it. Not now, Two, you're the last thing I need now.

"I'm sorry, Mistress," Carmen said.

She glanced at the girl. "You're sorry?"

"I can see you're upset. I shouldn't have led you there. But…" She shrugged. "I should have guessed you didn't know. I should have guessed… you wouldn't approve."

Anna took her hand. "Can you see the ocean from the beach?"

"A little bit. The waves don't reach in so far. If you want that, we should visit one of the cliffs." Something in her tone told Anna that the girl was hoping for a refusal.

She squeezed Carmen's hand. "You don't want to do that. Don't you like the cliffs?"

"It's… the Mistresses don't go into the woods, unless they're hunting someone."

Bio territory, she thought. Someplace they feel a measure of safety and privacy. "The lagoon will be fine."

They walked on, holding hands. They sighted a few people ahead, all children, but they disappeared into side alleys or doorways long before the pair drew close enough to speak to them. Eventually the road ahead bent one last time, and Anna saw blue-green water ahead, reflecting the wispy clouds.

Something was happening ahead. She couldn't see anything, but Anna's amplified hearing discerned voices, young and male and exuberant, going back and forth, echoing off the walls and growing closer.

Carmen heard the racket now, and she stiffened. Anna heard the girl's heart beat a little harder. "Don't worry. It's probably just my stupid brother Miguel and his stupid friends, back from their camping trip."

A group of teenage boys, sacks slung over their shoulders, entered the street from a nearby alley, horsing around and shouting to one another. One of them was waving a floppy cloth hat in the air, much like the one he and his friends wore; another boy, younger and bareheaded, reached desperately for it, but the thief held it up out of reach and tossed it to one of his friends. The other boy caught it and proffered it to its owner, then tossed it to a third hooligan just before the boy could touch it. The group jeered and shouted at the child frantically trying to retrieve his property from them as they tossed it back and forth. Then one of them saw Carmen and her companion and they halted, grinning. The hoodlum with the hat dropped it in the dusty street, and its owner snatched it up and scurried away.

The girl tugged Anna to the opposite side of the narrow street. "Don't pay any attention to them. Don't answer if they speak. Just walk by."

The largest of the boys called to Carmen in a tone of voice that was teasing and menacing at the same time. The girl colored and tried to hurry past, but Anna balked. "Who is that, what did he say?"

"That's Miguel." The girl said in a low voice. "He asked me who my new boyfriend was. He's just trying to make us angry." She added, "He doesn't recognize you. He's been gone since before you came. He must think you're new, like the Rasks, brought in while he was away. He doesn't know you don't speak Spanish."

The boy spoke again, grinning crookedly at Anna. Carmen gasped and took a step towards him, but Anna laid a hand on her arm. The boys traded knowing looks and lewd little groans.

"Carmen?"

"He said you should try a man sometime, maybe you'd forget about girls."

The boy crossed the street, the others following. They circled the two girls, their looks amused and predatory. Miguel stepped close, looming over them, and spoke again. Anna looked up, locking eyes with him. "Carmen?"

"He said, he said you shouldn't have cut your hair. You already look too much like a boy. You're so flat everywhere else, it doesn't leave anything to grab."

Still holding his eyes, she said evenly, "Tell him this for me. Say that, while I may be mistaken for a boy from time to time, no one will ever mistake him for a man."

Carmen's eyes got round as saucers. "Mistress-"

"Just say it."

As Carmen spoke, the boy scowled down at the strange girl, and his friends hooted. He spoke rapidly for a moment.

"He says, he says…" The girl flushed and stopped. "Please, no…"

"Carmen," she said, "tell me."

"He says, if you had breasts, he'd slap them and send you home crying. Please, he doesn't-"

She took a step forward, now nearly toe to toe. "Tell him that his mouth is full of stupid boasts and empty threats. He thinks he's crowing like a rooster, but he's just a puppy yapping in his box. Every girl in the village must laugh behind her hand when he walks by."

Carmen translated, although with several hesitations, and Anna was certain that she made at least one false start before she got it right. Miguel's friends barked with laughter, but not at her. Their leader colored and balled his fists. He raised a hand, as if to give Anna a push.

A screech from the end of the street stopped the action. Madre came rushing up, her face white and sick, and grabbed Miguel by the arm, shouting at him in Spanish. She yanked him savagely, taking him off-balance even though the boy was the larger of the two, and pushed him down the street. She shrieked at him one more time, clearly sending him away, then dropped to her knees in the dust before Anna, her back and head bowed. "Por favor. Mercy, Mistress. It's all my fault. If he offended you, it was because I raised him badly. Punish me instead. Please."

Miguel's cronies had vanished. Anna looked from the woman to Carmen, who stood as if rooted, eyes huge, fists jammed into her mouth. Ten yards down the street, Miguel stood frozen as well, horrified realization filling his face as he saw his mother kneel in supplication before the strange girl.

Madre wondered if it would be quick when it came. She knew the Mistresses were skilled killers, and could end a person's life between one breath and the next. She also knew that they could make a person's death last so long that their victims begged for an end to it; she'd seen such, and listened to their cries. Carmen says this one is different from the others. Not just a difference in manner, but different. God grant that she will let me pay for my son's threat, and deal with me quickly.

The Mistress's voice, just above her, startled her; she hadn't heard her move. Then the words reached her through her fear. "I would not have killed your child, Madre. But he's very rude in the company of his friends, and something of a bully as well. Sometimes a lecture on manners is better remembered if it's delivered with a few bruises."

Bruises? She stared at the creature's shoes and swallowed to find her voice. "It's my fault, Mistress. I haven't even cuffed him since he was waist-high. It's my weakness that's made him like this."

"How bad a boy can he be, with such a good mother? I'm sure he doesn't act this way at home. But he's at that age when boys feel a need to misbehave to impress their friends." After another moment of silence she said, "It's not easy, raising a son to manhood without a father."

"No," she said, confused, and afraid of the new one in a different way now.

"His father. Carmen's. What happened to him?"

"He was a traitor," she answered promptly, by rote.

"Ah," the deadly little creature said softly. "My sisters killed him."

She couldn't think of a safe reply. She waited, staring at her knees in the dust.

"You know, Madre, abused children often grow up to abuse their own. It seems strange. You'd think they'd be the last to visit cruelty on a child. But it's all they know about rearing them."

"Yes," she heard herself saying. "I've seen it." What is she doing? They never talk like this. Is little Carmen's suspicion true? Is this why she's here, because something's wrong with her that affects her thinking? That perhaps even makes her forget what she is? The others are bad enough, but at least you know what they're going to do.

Two small knees appeared in the dirt in front of her. Tiny hands reached for hers and lifted them out of her lap, clasping them. "I know it must be hard to believe, but we begin as children too. Our bodies don't change, but, for a little while, we're like other children. We explore the world around us with innocent eyes, and learn from the people in it. We depend on adults for guidance and values, to teach us how to live."

The hands holding hers tugged upward. She raised her eyes to look into the face of the Mistress. Incredibly, she saw entreaty there. "My sisters were very badly raised, Madre. They were deliberately starved for love and cruelly used. The people they looked to as parents cared little for humanity, or for any life beyond their own. What little the others know of love, they learned from one another. Only God's mercy spared me from being just like them."

None of the others speaks of God. At least, not in front of us. Surely they don't worship the same one we pray to for deliverance. "How… did that happen?" The question seemed to slip out her mouth, and she thrilled with fear the instant it was past her lips.

"I spent my childhood among caring people like you, people who accepted me, made friends with me, loved me. I'm the way we all would have been, if they hadn't been twisted to suit other purposes."

"Killers."

She nodded. "Yes. They escaped their masters, but killing and cruelty are what they know, so they made those things part of their new life. The contempt they show you is what they feel for all humanity, not just the people of the village. A contempt that was taught them by people who took their names from them, and caged them every night." The Mistress stood, pulling Madre up with her. The Mistress's upturned, earnest face gave her the appearance of a troubled child. "I can't ask you to forgive them. I only ask for understanding. You know why I'm here?"

"I know they're doing something to you, treating you as if you're sick. But they never get sick," she added before she thought.

"I am, in a way they're immune to. They're making me well. But, in return, they've asked something of me, and I don't know if I can do it." She took a breath and let it out. "They've seen me with my family. They want me to teach them how to make people bond with them. They don't understand that there's not a 'love' button on ordinary people that they can push. That, if they want to be accepted, they have to become more… acceptable." She shook her head. "I can lecture them about simple courtesy, practicing compassion, taking an interest in the lives of the flesh-and-bloods they know. But I wouldn't be teaching them anything they don't already do, when they're trying to blend in and deceive. I can't teach them to live it, to value humanity and view themselves as a part of it, the way I do." She looked up and down the empty street. "Madre, do you know where the vacant houses in the village are?"

"Yes, of course."

"Can you show me one a little removed from any occupied ones? Not too far, no more than a street away."

"Yes, several," Madre said. "People mostly live close together down by the water. The houses farther up the hill are almost all empty."

"Can you help pick a place for me?"

"For you? You mean…"

"Yes," she said. "I need to move out of the castle. It's just too strange. I'm used to living in a house that flesh-and-bloods live in, and having neighbors. I don't want to force myself on anyone, I just want to be around people."

Madre nodded slowly. "I think… Yes, we can do that."

"It would be nice if Carmen could stay with me, but I don't demand it. You must miss her."

The woman glanced at the girl. "I'll speak to her about it."

"Thank you." She looked up the hill at Miguel. He was somewhat closer, having taken several steps back toward the three women, but was now standing stiffly watching, as if unable to come any closer. "And now…"

She marched up to him, Carmen following. The boy dropped to his knees.

"Get up," Anna said. He looked up at her, and she made a lifting gesture. He rose to his feet.

"Carmen, translate, please. Miguel. You get a pass this time. For your mother's sake, not yours. You've worried her enough for one day." Carmen spoke in Spanish. When she stopped, Anna continued, "But if I see you or your friends bullying someone ever again, I will make you cry like little girls in front of the whole village. Making others feel weak and helpless does not make you stronger."