Hours earlier, Cernunnos prowled the streets of Suen. He searched for the white-haired historian, Cahir. Cernunnos, whose hair was also white, thought he, as the adventurous archaeologist, wore it better. Plus, Cernunnos was older. What right did Cahir have to white hair at a relatively youthful sixty-one years?

Still, Cernunnos recognized that Cahir’s white hair was rare among both Groazans and Tagtrumians. Cahir would be easy to spot, doubly so because he rarely wore a hat. So, Cernunnos searched for the characteristic that he thought Cahir had no cause to possess.

As Cernunnos strolled, he smiled at a few young ladies. He tipped his hat to his favorite, a plump, tawny waitress. The woman returned his smile but kept at her work. Cernunnos followed her example and continued to search the streets.

This Ah’nee’thit will send Cahir after Camellia. I’m almost certain, and he’s unlikely to get a ride all the way to the Suen temple. I just have to find Cahir before he leaves town.

Ahead, Cernunnos spotted white hair, and a familiar tunic. Perfect. Cernunnos quickened his pace.

“Cahir!” Cernunnos clapped Cahir on the shoulder. He barely shook the bigger, younger man. “What are you doing in Suen? I thought you would return to the Dragua Library.”

Cahir stiffened. “I’m taking some leave. What are you doing here?”

“Leave,” Cernunnos lied. “Suen is great for a vacation. I come here for the women.”

As if to accentuate his point, a dozen women, with full, bare-topped breasts passed by.

“I see,” Cahir sneered. “I thought you were going to let Camellia be?”

“And, why do you assume I’m after Camellia?” Cernunnos asked. “I’m not chasing her. I’ve never chased after a former student. Very inappropriate.”

“I’m not accusing you of pursuit. Merely checking on her. Your skepticism at the match made me regret my confidence in you.” Cahir pushed Cernunnos’ hand from his shoulder. “I never should have told you so much about her travels. Honestly, I’m surprised you tracked her this far. I never said she was on her way to Suen, just the Library of the Occult.” Cahir stared hard. “Have you seen her yet?”

Cernunnos realized his arrival in Suen might seem too fortuitous to Cahir, so he quickly explained his process, leaving out some details. “No, I tracked her by your description of the pilot she hired. I asked around the shipyard, and it turns out that this pilot has a very distinct ship. There’s a little face on the side.”

“Why did you ask around the shipyard?” Cahir questioned. “I’d already told you where to find her.”

“I wanted to make sure she had a good pilot. Camellia can make some...unideal travel plans.” Cernunnos felt that his statement while not true in this case was true in many others.

“Those unideal plans extend to more than just travel,” Cahir growled. “Did you go to the Library of the Occult?”

Cernunnos nodded. “Yes, I asked after the ship and got a general direction that it traveled. Then, I just sent messages to a few shipyards in Southern Tagtrum. Someone spotted the ship here.”

Cahir blinked fast. “You rarely miss a clue, Cernunnos. It really is to your commendation. Now, I have to find Camellia, and I would prefer if you did not meddle. Excuse me…”

Cernunnos hurried to get in front of the historian. He put his hands up to stop the man. “I was hoping you would drink with me. When we talked about Camellia, you said some worrying things about her leave and her reputation. I just want an explanation.” Cernunnos gestured to a tavern and tried to guide Cahir to the door.

Cahir didn’t budge.

“I won’t meddle,” Cernunnos promised. “I just want some questions answered.”

Cahir looked at the tavern, and Cernunnos worried that the man found the outdoor decor off-putting. Two naked figureheads marked either side of the door: one a winged woman and the other a merwoman.

Cahir sighed. “Unfortunately, I don’t have the time.”

“I believe Camellia is also on leave. That should give you plenty of time. Unless, you’re on leave together, and she’s waiting for you? Or, is she giving you trouble with some of those unideal plans?” Cernunnos prodded Cahir in the arm.

Cahir growled. “Trouble.”

“I’m sorry. Last we spoke, you implied that Camellia is as good as married to you.”

“Did I?”

“Yes, have you hit a snag?” Cernunnos crossed his arms and smiled.

Cahir stopped and glanced at the tavern. Then, he studied Cernunnos.

While Cernunnos relaxed under Cahir’s gaze, no less than three women eyed the trim archaeologist. Cernunnos smiled at them, and they smiled back. One seemed very interested, but Cernunnos had to let it go. He ignored her and turned back to Cahir.

Cahir took a deep breath. “As a matter of fact, yes. She’s proving to be more stubborn than I thought.”

“Oh?” Cerunnos raised his eyebrows.

“She doesn’t seem willing to make a commitment.” With roving eyes, Cahir searched their vicinity. He likely looked for Camellia. “You were right to be skeptical.”

“Shall I offer my help?” Cernunnos smiled.

Cahir narrowed his eyes and grew stiff. “Why would you be invested in her involvement with me?”

“I’m always invested in Camellia’s happiness.” Cernunnos gestured to the tavern door. “Let’s go inside. One drink. A bit of advice. Some questions from me, and you can chase Camellia to your heart’s content. Hopefully, with a better idea of how to convince her.” Cernunnos opened the door and held it for Cahir.

Cahir walked through reluctantly. Cernunnos joined him. He perused the tavern for a table. Men and women filled the interior, creating heat in the already hot room. Wind breezed through the windows. Every lamp lay dark, giving the room a cave-like atmosphere.

“This place is likely beyond capacity,” Cahir said.

“Well, we won’t be long.” Cernunnos waved him forward and wove through the people.

Women sat on men’s laps. All the booths and tables were full, except for one between the broom closet and bathroom. Cernunnos plopped down on one side. Cahir took the other. From both sides, smells assailed them: a battle between waste and bleach water.

“Wooo.” Cernunnos waved a hand in front of his face. “But, I’ve smelt worse.”

“I haven’t.”

“You need to travel Iruedim more. Smell something worse than musty books.” Cernunnos studied the other man. “Or, do you like that smell?”

“Musty books smell like paradise compared to this.” Cahir put a hand over his nose.

A waitress squeezed over and asked for their orders. Once she was on her way back to the bar, Cernunnos turned the conversation to a certain anthropologist. “What’s going on with Camellia? Why has she been on such a long leave? It’s obviously not the usual reasons.”

“Her mother died.”

“I know that part. What else?” Cernunnos leaned forward. He put his elbow on the table.

“Adalhard is starting to think she’s suicidal.”

“What?” Cernunnos looked around to ensure no one listened. “That doesn’t make any sense. Because her mother died?”

“I’m not sure. Adalhard possibly knows more, but clearly he isn’t confident. He hasn’t done anything to detain her, though he might be moving in that direction. He wasn’t thrilled after visiting her father’s house.” Cahir grew quiet as their drinks arrived.

Both men waited for the waitress to deliver their order.

Cernunnos gave a grateful nod to the woman and watched her walk away. “I’m never thrilled when I visit the Zaris Farm. Her father is a vampire. I’m out before sundown.”

“Perhaps, that’s why Adalhard and you share different opinions. Supposedly, he was there after sundown.” Cahir drank from his glass.

Cernunnos did not. He found Adalhard’s bravery both awe inspiring and shame inducing.

“Now,” Cahir began. “In what way should I court this stubborn lady?”

Cernunnos barely heard the words and promptly forgot them. Then, he ruffled his hair and thought about Camellia’s mental state. Suicidal?! What is Adalhard thinking? She’s fine. I just saw her. She’s a bit worried about her future, but she has new friends, and a distraction. Cernunnos remembered Camellia’s expressions – tired and a bit dark. He remembered her evasive words – never quite saying what she wanted. My god. I may just have let a suicidal woman walk into a monster’s lair.

“Cernunnos?”

“Uh, sorry. I’m getting worried about Camellia. What did you ask me?” Cernunnos took a drink and waited for Cahir’s answer.

“You won’t have to worry about her anymore if you help me secure her. Now, how should I do that?” Cahir stared hard.

“Well, if Adalhard is right, that would affect my answer.”

Cahir sat back and crossed his arms. “Let’s consider both possibilities. First, if Adalhard is wrong?”

“If he’s wrong, I would say – good, old-fashioned romance.” Cernunnos stroked his chin. He answered honestly. He knew Camellia. “Maybe, start with a friendly approach and then scale it up to something more. Talk to her about work, art, nature, her family...scratch that last one.” Things might not be good there.

“And, for the romance aspect?” Cahir urged Cernunnos.

“Have you ever read a romance novel? They’re pure fantasy and quite silly, but Camellia loves them. Sometimes, on trips, she reads and hides them. She doesn’t think I see.” Cernunnos smiled at a memory of Camellia stuffing a book into her pillow. He’d already found it when he’d gone to roll up the bedding. Yet, he had carefully restowed it and preserved her privacy. Camellia didn’t know and continued to hide the thing for the entire trip. “I think she’d be pleasantly surprised if you acted a bit like the guys in those books. Within reason.”

“Interesting. So, you borrow tactics from romance novels?”

Cernunnos winked. “A little here and there.”

“So, you’re telling me to be more aggressive in my pursuit. I had thought I was quite aggressive.”

“Not just aggressive. Be…How do I describe it. Be aggressively romantic.”

Cahir frowned as he considered the advice. Then, he asked, “And what if Adalhard’s suspicion is correct. What if she’s suicidal?”

Cernunnos leaned forward. “I advise you to do nothing more than a friendly approach. I’ll...I mean I would find her some help, and you could take it very slow.”

“Hmmmmmm.” Cahir stared into space. “Thank you, Cernunnos. You might have actually helped me.” Cahir rose and stood in front of the closet. He paused.

Cernunnos got to his feet. “I’m so happy to have helped you. Now, I know I promised I wouldn’t meddle.” He glanced around the tavern and noted that the closet stood ajar. He moved to fix it. He said, “I think you should wait until I talk to Camellia and make sure she’s okay. That’s not really meddling.”

“On the contrary, my friend. I would absolutely define your proposition as meddling.” Cahir watched Cernunnos fiddle with the closet. He rolled his eyes as the older man tried to shove a broom back inside. Cahir shouldered Cernunnos out of the way. He opened the door and pushed the broom into an upright position.

Cernunnos let him. Then, he shoved Cahir into the closet, slammed the door, and locked it with an escaped broom. The roar of the people and a toilet flush masked the initial trap, but a wide-eyed waitress stood at Cernunnos’ elbow. Cernunnos turned to find her agape. The door jiggled.

Cernunnos rubbed the back of his neck. “Hey. It’s not how it looks.”

She shook her head.

Cernunnos sighed. “Just do me a favor and keep him in there for a while.” Cernunnos paid her for the drinks and also gave her a generous tip. “He’s an ass.”

The woman looked at the money. She took it and nodded.

“Let him out at closing time. When is that? Just after midnight?” Cernunnos searched the tavern for a sign.

“Three hours past midnight,” she answered. She tucked her money into her dress pocket.

“Better than I hoped. Don’t let him out till then. A lady friend of mine depends on it. Thanks.”

Again, the waitress nodded and watched as Cernunnos left with a wave.

Cahir sat in the closet, amid the smell of bleach, soaked into the threads of mops, bristles of brushes, and essence of metal pails. He put his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

Cahir...a familiar whisper reached him.

So far away, the communication was thin, but Cahir possessed a strong connection to his new god. Alongside his name, he received other vague thoughts. Images of Camellia. Images of her friends – the blond Tagtrumian and the red-headed, gold-skinned woman. For Camellia, Ah’nee’thit sent feelings of pleasure, happiness, and worry. For the others, Ah’nee’thit’s great mind angered.

Before he responded, Cahir took a moment to remember Ah’nee’thit’s first call, heard in the south of Tagtrum after a long night of research. Cahir, watched by Ah’nee’thit from great distances, had finally been close enough for Ah’nee’thit to reach him with a whisper. Now, no matter how far Cahir strayed, Ah’nee’thit’s words followed, and sometimes its richer communication reached his mind too. If Camellia would only give in, she would never be alone again. Ah’nee’thit would not merely watch her mind. It would guide her.

Ah’nee’thit, I failed to capture Camellia and bring her to your temple. Cahir’s head remained bowed.

Don’t worry, Cahir. She came as I predicted she would. We spoke. A little movie ran in the background, recounting Camellia and Ah’nee’thit’s conversation. Cahir could not follow every detail. He grasped the general impression and let the details go.

She’s still not ours? Cahir asked.

No, but she will be. Cahir, when you are free of your prison, I need you to do three things for me. Ah’nee’thit presented Cahir with a vague list while it waited for the man to agree.

Yes, I’ll do what you ask me. I apologize again for my failure. Cernunnos is a problem. I believe he’s spoken to Camellia, and he knows about us. He knows about the order.

No more apologies. You’re the best I have, and still, you suck.

Cahir winced at the informal and angry thoughts. Ah’nee’thit probably learned them from one of the younger historians or mages.

Ah’nee’thit wasn’t finished with him yet. Cahir, I need you to do this next part right. A great spell holds me, and...a puny closet holds you. Do you see the difference, Cahir?

Cahir didn’t like Ah’nee’thit’s snotty tone, but he knew he deserved it. Aloud, he said, “I see.” He let the words flow through his mind, and he let Ah’nee’thit drink of his shame.

Let me worry about Cernunnos. For you, I have other tasks. Ah’nee’thit did not wait for Cahir’s response. As it spoke, the creature showed the man what it wanted. First, come to me. I’ll give you something.

Cahir saw himself on the ledge, and the creature placed its tentacles all over his body. In the vision, they encircled his arms and waist, and ran over his face and chest.

Second, you must meet a woman...named Alastronia.

In his mind, Cahir saw a black-haired, brown-eyed woman. Cahir wrinkled his nose. A new priestess? But, you stated we would have Camellia. He sent the message with some disappointment. He preferred the young anthropologist.

We will. This other woman will join us but not as high priestess. She’s an Agaric healer, and I found her in the mind of Meladee.

Ah’nee’thit showed Cahir a preview of what it meant to be an Agaric healer. Cahir saw piles of bones, clay, and masks. He saw disembodied limbs, torn muscles, and skinned faces. He witnessed payments from sad but desperate customers and servants with stiff wooden bodies. Cahir received the woman’s location. Alastronia was close and a lesser disciple of Ah’nee’thit had already approached her.

Recruit her and bring her to me.

Cahir sent wordless affirmation.

Third, you will rescue Camellia. Do not let her go abroad with the others.

Where would she go? Cahir’s closed eyes scrunched.

To the old one. You must rescue her.

But, she’ll never try to reach the old one. She and her friends will go to the state. At least, Cernunnos will convince them to speak to the AAH, and Adalhard will appeal to Groaza. Cahir laid out the timeline. He showed Ah’nee’thit each individual that the information would pass through: dark-haired Groazans and a mix of Tagtrumians. He also conjured images of armies and the secret mages that held the creature captive, working together to keep it trapped.

Yes. I’ll have someone else take care of these things. I will be free. You must take care of Camellia. She will go. She wants something from Lurren, and the red-head friend has given her hope to acquire it. Camellia does not realize the danger. You must rescue her. Ah’nee’thit invented a romantic rescue – Camellia in Cahir’s arms, grateful and weeping.

Cahir suspected the image came from Camellia’s own mind, the seeds of which Ah’nee’thit had stolen. In the background of the vision, Cahir saw Camellia’s new friends flee aboard the ship. The pilot mage and the red-head were capable, very much so. I’ll have great difficulty separating her from those two. If I take her, they’ll seek her.

They’re new to each other. Why should they seek her? Just get Camellia and hide.

If I can’t initiate her, she’ll resist, and she’ll overpower me at nightfall, unless…Cahir considered ways to keep her in check. He knew of an artifact that could stand in for the sun, but he could never get it out of the Gotic museum. He’d lost most of his scrolls, but he could meet with another of Ah’nee’thit’s mages and acquire new magic. Those things would only work in the short term. For the long term, he thought of strongholds that he could lock her in, approaching her only at day.

Yes, do that, but you will have a way to initiate her. I’ll grant it to you. Now, come. Your prison will open.

Cahir opened his eyes and watched a sliver of light appear through a crack. As the door swung aside, Cahir recognized the waitress. With her, were several other waitresses. Before they could say anything, Cahir stood up and exited the closet. The women backed away, and some flinched. Cahir did not retaliate. He left the tavern at a brisk walk.