On her first day in the saddle, Lily managed to bruise everything below the belt. She finished the job on the second day, bruising everything she hadn't already landed on. Still, she was glad to have a horse that could carry her. The handsome draft horse went by the name Chestnut and was equally happy to see Lily and the piece of salted bread she brought him.

It took skill to ride a horse. Aliya had those skills, but Lilian didn't, and all of her body memories belonged to Lilian. Even wearing three pairs of pants—silk, wool, and leather—she suffered from a sore butt and ripped seams.

At least she wasn't trying to ride a side saddle. They had tried to convince her to use one, but Lily put her foot down. She would have a regular saddle and wear pants covered by a skirt with slits cut in it to cover her legs and allow her to sit more or less comfortably. The skirt wasn't hard to sew, and she had plenty of pink fabric to choose from.

What was it with Lilian and the color pink?

She didn't expect her skirt to stay fresh and pink for long. Horses sweat, and after a day's work, they don't smell like roses. She knew by the end of the day, she would smell about as bad as the horse, and there wouldn't be anywhere to take a bath. Lily was afraid to stop at any more inns along the way to the fair. The one time she had set foot in an inn, the odor hit her in the face so hard that she stood on the porch retching. Even the city morgue didn't smell that bad! Just dead bodies and formaldehyde. The inn had smelled of rotgut, rotten meat, and unwashed bodies, like a dumpster and a homeless camp all in one small space.

Lily ordered the servants to buy food in the villages. They would be camping out in the fresh air. She didn't care if her meat was tough from roasting over a fire. With a full set of molars, she had no complaints about Lilian's teeth.

That reminds me, I need to look for a toothbrush and tooth powder at the fair. What else do I need? Soap. It isn't hard to make soap, and I can use local ingredients. Something to scrub with. Do loofahs grow here? Would some other plant work? Maybe I can grow something.

They bought bread and soft, yellow cheese in the villages. Lily was nervous about eating the bread. She knew that if the grain hadn't been stored properly, rye bread could be contaminated with spores of a dangerous fungus that could cause hallucinations or even seizures. That was why she had told the peasants to grow wheat. She knew that poorly stored rye was a hazard, but she didn't know the right way to store it.

Lily wanted to bang her head against a wall; there was so much she didn't know. She realized that her education was sorely lacking. What are kids learning in school? They certainly aren't taught how to survive in the wild. People in our times don't know how to make shelter, start a fire without matches, tell edible mushrooms from poisonous ones, grow wheat, or work with a horse... They want to "put religion back in schools," but who the devil needs that? Basic survival skills would be a better use of kids' time. Lily figured she didn't need help dealing with God. She needed help making simple things like paper, ink, and salt...

There were no comforts in her new world. It was pure stubbornness and a will to survive that got her back in the saddle every day. She had to grit her teeth and keep moving forward. Nobody cared that she was tired. So, she held on. After a while, the peasants stopped looking at her with contempt and distrust. Now, they only distrusted her. She saddled her horse without help, climbed into the saddle every day, and rode without complaining.

There were just five men with her on the trip; the elders Art Virdas and Sherl Ferney came along to consult with her on what to buy, and Jean Corey, Rem Veras, and Tres Mattie provided security. Jean had once been captain of the castle guards, and he kept the other young men on their toes. Lilian sighed. In her previous life, she could have kept up with them all day, even with a heavy pack on her back. Now, she couldn't even do her exercises for fear the men would see her. She was afraid of being found out—very afraid.

There were other fears to consider, as well. Her former Comptroller had traded with pirates. With their source of slaves out of the way, will the pirates get pushy? How can I defend my lands from them?

The estate was basically defenseless. Anyone could walk right in and take whatever they wanted. Lily didn't like that. She was responsible for five villages in a world teeming with bandits, wolves, and bears. People in the 20th century hunted wolves from the safety of helicopters, but in this world, you had to climb a tree and shoot arrows. There were too many wolves and not enough arrows. Threats could come from the river or the sea, as well.

She needed an armed militia. She had watched the guards training at the castle and tried not to laugh. In her old life, she could have flipped all those heroes like turtles. They were slow, and she could see their moves before they made them. When they practiced sword fighting, none of them thought to trip their opponents. Is that some ancient code of honor? Dead men aren't interested in honor!

Lily needed real warriors—hardened wolves, not barking dogs. She would use the guards she had for now, but she knew they would be useless against real fighters. On the other hand, she suspected that a real militia would cost her more than an iron bridge. Professionals don't graze on grass.

***

By the fourth day of the trip, the men pitied her as she wheezed and groaned her way into the saddle. After another two days, they started to respect her. They could see she was having a hard time riding, but that didn't stop her. Nothing would stop her; that earned their respect.

When they finally came within sight of Altver fortress, Lily almost rolled off her horse laughing.

Is this what they call a fortress? I've seen churches taller than this!

The fortress consisted of a stone wall that was three or four times as high as a man is tall. The corner towers were slightly higher, and the total area was just enough to fit two of Lily's castles. It was enough room to hide people—without any comfort—during a siege.

The fair was already in full swing at the foot of the walls.

"I wonder where I can spend the night," Lily mumbled.

Art heard her. "I was here year before last. There's a nice inn called The Pig and Dog. The keeper rents rooms, but they aren't cheap."

"Are they full of fleas and bedbugs?" Lily asked suspiciously.

"No." Art knew how she felt about insects and permitted himself a smile. "The keeper's wife is a Virman. They have to clean their houses out ten times a day. Their god makes them do it."

"I like that god!" Lily exclaimed.

Art made the sign of Aldonai. "My Lady, don't talk that way where others could hear you. Our priest can't stand other religions. He says they were all invented by Maldonaya!"

"I promise I won't. But I do like clean habits. Tell me about Virmans."

"Virmans? But don't you already know, My Lady?"

Lily's eyes grew sharp. "Next you'll be asking me what I learned in school! Mind your own business, elder!" Of course, she knew some things, but not enough by a long shot.

Art looked down. Peasants knew better than to answer a question with a question. "Virma is an island not far from the shore of Ativerna. The Virmans are sailors. They do a little trading and a little pirating. They aren't bad people, and they're good at music, but mainly they live by the sword. Their land is poor, so they can't farm, but goats and sheep do well there. They make shawls out of goats' down that they bring to the fair to sell. Those shawls are so fine that you can pull one through a gold ring!

Lily nodded. "If we have any money left over we'll look at getting some shawls as gifts. Let's go."

***

Lons Avels had spent several days hiding out in the coalman's hut deep in the forest. He hadn't seen this coming. The youngest son of a landless noble, Lons received a decent education at the monastery. He wasn't cut out to be a monk, though; he loved a life of drinking, dancing, and pretty women. The monks knew he would never join their ranks, so as long as his father paid for his schooling, they left him alone. Then fortune seemed to smile on him. Father Julius found him an ideal job. He was to teach the princesses to read. He was euphoric as he traveled to the castle.

His dream came crashing to the ground as soon as he arrived. The castle was falling apart, and his salary was tiny. He had thought the princesses lived at court, but Gardwig had little use for his daughters. He wanted them to be literate, but otherwise, he had no intention of wasting the treasury's money on them.

The princesses all slept in a single room, wore each other's handed-down dresses and sniffled and sneezed through the winter because the castle was impossible to heat and always frozen like a cube of ice by morning.

Food was another problem. The princesses were expected to be extremely pious, so they observed three twenty-day fasts and nine three-day fasts each year. The fasts were strict, with only grains and vegetables allowed. Even worse, the entire household was supposed to practice piety along with the princesses.

Lons quickly learned to make quiet purchases of fish or meat and keep them in a cold corner. Otherwise, he wouldn't have survived. He was a grown man and couldn't live on vegetables, and he couldn't be seen going out hunting during a fast.

With a pitiful salary and little in the way of material support from his family, Lons soon grew bored, so he embarked on an affair with a dairymaid from the village and otherwise devoted his time to teaching the princesses. Anna was the most interesting of the group. She was the oldest, bright and intelligent, with a thirst for life. She was like a black diamond surrounded by white quartz, all glittering and shining. When Lons arrived at the castle, she was just eleven or twelve, but her eyes were far from childish—the eyes of a grown woman angry at the whole world. What did she have to be angry about? And why did Anna fall in love with him, a man living close to poverty and with few prospects for the future?

He taught her, and she learned. She seemed like a grown woman already. She was small, but she was a woman. There were smiles and glances between them from the very outset. She was thirteen when she bled for the first time and wrote him her first love letter. More letters followed, and they turned into looks, touches, and hints.

Anna was hunting like an experienced woman. Where had she learned the skills? Lons was no match for her. No, he stood firm for half a year and tried not to notice her. He even burned her letters. In the end, he gave up.

She knew what she wanted, and there was nothing he could do to turn her off. Their romance burst into flame as if Maldonaya had blessed it (or at least spit into the fire). Lons completely lost his head over her eyes, her lips, and her body. She couldn't get enough of him, and he felt the same. He didn't want to be her lover; he wanted to be her husband. So, he struck a deal with the priest. The papers confirming their marriage and a little bit of gold were hidden outside the castle.

Lons hadn't expected to have to run, but the situation snuck up on him. So, he found himself, sad and unfortunate, pondering his next move. His options did not look good. He could go back to the castle, but after the scene with the Jester, he was worried about ending up on the scaffold or having an 'accident' somewhere in one of the castle's darker corners.

They wouldn't hurt Anna—that much he knew for sure. Gardwig didn't want a scandal. He wanted to marry her off! Lons ground his teeth. "I won't allow it! She's mine!"

On the other hand, what am I going to do—go holler outside her window? He could slink off and never see his Anna again, but Lons couldn't make up his mind to do that. As usually happens, fate made the decision for him. The door of the hut creaked. Lons was reaching for his weapon—an old knife on the table—when he was struck by a blow to the jaw that knocked him against the wall.

The young giant who delivered the blow nodded. "The coalman was right. He's still here."

Strong hands picked him up. Through a haze—after a blow like that he expected to be spitting out teeth for three days—he felt a rope tighten around his wrists. Then they dragged him off.

Will they kill me? Probably. Farewell, Anna...

***

The Pig and Dog was fairly clean, and the floors were covered with straw that, while not fresh, was not rotten. The tables were clean enough to sit at, and she could touch the cup and plate without feeling disgusted.

Lily liked the looks of the innkeeper. Tall and hearty, with blond hair and blue eyes, he reminded Lily of a Viking.

"Is the keeper a Virman, too?"

"You bet. He bought this inn about twenty years ago, and he's done real well for himself," Art answered.

The food was good. They were served large pieces of roasted goat, a hot soup made of something like beans, goat cheese, soft rye bread, and a savory drink served in clay cups that reminded her of mead. Judging by the taste, it was no more than five-percent alcohol. Barely more than water.

Lily noted that she would need to distill something like moonshine for medical uses. As far as she could tell, the strongest drink they had was something called "iced" wine. This was wine made from grapes that had been frozen to remove a portion of the water, making it a little stronger than regular wine. It tastes like juice, but I'll be glad for a glass of it after this trip!

Lily frowned as she bit down on a chunk of goat meat. The trip was doing her good. Her dresses already felt looser, but she had a long way to go. And she needed to do strength training to avoid baggy skin.

Is this hard? Does it hurt? Too bad. I just have to grit my teeth and keep going. My parents are gone, but I'm alive. Somebody must really want me to be in this world. And I owe Lilian Earton something, too. She's dead, and I'm living on in her body. I want to live a life that I can be proud of.

She had other, more far-reaching goals, as well...

I don't want to just plant crops and build houses. I want to do my best to prevent this world from repeating the mistakes I saw in my world so that technological progress doesn't outstrip moral and ethical progress. First, I have to invent paper and promote literacy. Then I'll write a bunch of books. And I'll need a travel-size set of lead weights to keep my hopes from getting too high...

***

"Innkeeper, bring more wine!" Leif hollered and banged his fist on the table, even though the innkeeper was already hurrying toward the Virmans' table. They were his countrymen, at any rate.

Leif was feeling rotten inside. His people called it "cat scratches" when a man's soul was ripped up, but Leif was sure the cats had already dug a deep moat around his heart. He only knew of one way out—to drown the cats in cheap wine. He couldn't afford expensive wine, or even something decent.

It all started back in Virma... a small, rocky and inhospitable island at first sight, but it was his home. When Leif closed his eyes, he could see the steel-gray waves hitting the shore and the seagulls spreading their wings against the low sky. The home he had been forced to leave was in Erkvig. It had a low, sloping roof, and the fireplace in the room where he was born—and where all his ancestors had been born and died—was charred black with soot.

In his mind's eye, he saw the thick column of smoke rising into the sky and blotting all of it out. The Virman moaned softly. He didn't hear himself, and he didn't notice how Ingrid glanced worriedly at her friend, or how the innkeeper turned pale, knowing if the table of Virmans took to drinking to drown their sorrows, it would be the end of him. They could pull the whole place down and leave a pile of burning woodchips.

Leif knew the fire he had left behind, and he knew he would never go back.

Ingrid put her small hands on his shoulders. "Leif..." The Virman smiled and turned to his beloved. He had no idea how that smile changed his face. Instead of a seasoned cutthroat, he looked like a young man in love with a queen, or a goddess. The innkeeper had reason to hope that the day might end without a fight.

***

Virma is a small island inhabited by large clans. Most of the time they get along fine and intermarry, but sometimes they get involved in feuds. The Erkvig and Torsveg families were sworn enemies. Leif had killed two Torsvegs, and he knew who was responsible for his brother's death. He had wanted to get another one of them in revenge, but he had missed his chance.

The Virmans put away their swords one day a year, on the day set aside for Fleina, the goddess of love and fertility. On that day, no one risked spilling even a drop of human blood. They propitiated their goddess by dancing, jumping over fires, and partying all night. Anyone who failed to celebrate the day properly would be struck by infertility. If the goddess turned away from a Virman, his love would bear no fruit. Such was her power.

On that very day, the oldest of the Erkvigs and the youngest of the Torsvegs met their deaths.

Everyone was making merry. Young people were burning bonfires on the beach and having a great time. Leif had just returned from a campaign and was staying with a friend. He was not one for games and merrymaking on the beach. He just wasn't interested. His mother often reminded him that it was time for him to wed, but he felt like an old sea-wolf who didn't want to be chained down. His friend talked him into going, however, and it just so happened that Ingrid ran away from her nannies and her brothers to see what was happening there.

Leif saw her leap over one of the bonfires in a storm of golden sparks. Just at that moment, Fleina smiled at him. The young woman in the simple dress seemed so beautiful to him that his heart beat faster than it ever had before.

"Who is she?" he asked his friend in a gruff voice. He didn't know, so Leif decided to approach her.

No Virman was willing to risk the wrath of Fleina. Everyone needed someone to love, and it was in Fleina's power to bestow that love. As his legs carried him past the bonfire, Leif was worried that Fleina would punish him for avoiding the festivities in previous years, but the girl did not look away. She stood there and looked him in the face, and he saw something strange in her eyes. He had wondered, Embarrassment? Confusion? Or was it...

Leif would not have been surprised if she had cried out and run away. He had never been handsome in his youth, and he was nothing to look at now. He knew that the sea and the wind had turned his skin brown, and that his nose was broken in two places, and that he had old scars crisscrossing his cheek and chin. Even so, the girl looked him straight in the face. She didn't move away when he got closer. Instead, she smiled and held out a hand.

"I'm Ingrid. Who are you?"

"Leif."

"Leif." The way she repeated his name made it sound like music. "I've never seen you before, Leif."