Camellia let Florian help her off the wagon. It was midday, and she didn’t have the strength to do it herself, or the balance. She wanted to call Meladee back and let her know that some things did suck. Camellia, during the day, started to feel a bit like an invalid. She blamed it on travel. She could have been home, reading more papers.

Florian got a good grip under her arms. She grabbed his shoulders, and he lifted her down. With a grunt, he placed her on the museum’s front lawn.

“Thanks.” She looked at her feet. She felt Florian’s eyes on her.

“Are you sure you’ll be up for it today?”

“Yeah.” Camellia nodded. “Maybe, nighttime would have been better, but we’ll eat. I’ll take a quick nap, and then, we can go to the headquarters and see if I can work the com device.” Camellia started for the museum door.

Florian followed, easily keeping pace. He dragged the horse along behind them, leaving the wagon in what constituted a parking spot.

Eder ran out from the museum. He started down the steps and waved. “Hi!” he called. He jogged the rest of the way over the museum’s short lawn.

Florian and Camellia stopped. The horse bent its head. Camellia glanced down. Her eyes widened. The horse had a large mouthful of grass and chewed it, raising its head to reveal a barren patch.

“Uh, Florian.” She tapped his arm.

Florian’s gaze followed hers. “Oh, no. Not the lawn.”

Eder stopped just ahead of them. “Hey, do you want me to take care of the horse?”

“Yes, don’t let him eat the lawn.” Florian handed the rope off to Eder.

The horse dipped its head, but Florian pulled it up and patted it on the neck. “No,” he scolded quietly.

“Oh, hey. I saw this in your mailbox. Found it this morning.” Eder held the horse’s rope loosely and pulled an envelope from one of his pockets. He handed it to Camellia.

Camellia touched her chest. “For me?” She looked at the writing on the front and drew a sharp breath.

“What is it?” Florian asked.

“Well, I know his handwriting better now, so I’m sure this is from one of our least favorite people.” Camellia recognized Viorel’s looping hand. “So much for impossible.” She turned the envelope over and ripped it open, still thinking he might write something that proved a failure in the test.

Dear Camellia,

I had to address this envelope to your place of work as I don’t know where you and your husband live.

I know I said I never wanted to hear from you again, but with all that’s been going on, I find myself unable to stick to that threat.

I certainly hope you didn’t have a hand in shifting the wormhole, but I acknowledge that you might have.

Surely, you can see how both our actions have led us to this point in our relationship. I would like to make amends and put those things aside.

May I visit you and bring a small gift for your wedding? Let me know if and when that would be appropriate.

Also, you don’t need to worry about shielding. During our visit, I won’t try to read your thoughts or those of your husband. I will stay strictly within my own head. If that is the only way I can have a relationship with you, I am willing to do so.

I would rather our thoughts stay separated in place of our persons.

Love,

Your father

Camellia swallowed hard. She ran a hand through her hair.

The test had not been an impossibility. Her pen pal passed.

“May I see?” Florian slipped the paper from her hands.

She let him have it, as the words burned in her memory. She considered them. Her father still sounded like an ass. He wrote a dig against her actions, as if her actions had anything to do with it. In Camellia’s opinion, the fault lay solely with him. Not even shifting the wormhole, if he could lay any of that at her feet, was equal to what he had done. For these reasons, she believed the letter. She believed it was her father and not some elaborate trick.

The pen pal did it.

“I don’t believe it,” Florian said. “It passed the test. Now, we have to deal with your father, in addition to the Volanter.”

Eder tugged the horse’s mouth from the grass. Camellia could see that the horse got a bigger snack that time.

“What did it say?” Eder’s brow furrowed. “Who’s it from?”

“My father,” Camellia answered. “He wants to come over for a visit.”

Eder’s eyes widened. “Let me know when that happens, I think I’ll eat at headquarters that night.”

Florian tucked the letter and envelope away. “That’s not going to happen. For one thing, he doesn’t know about this.” He gestured to Camellia’s belly.

She looked down and agreed. Her father didn’t know, and she would rather things stayed that way.

Florian put a hand on Camellia’s back and urged her forward. “Let’s get inside. Eder, thanks for taking care of the horse.” Florian’s words came slower and slower, as he spotted the patches of bare lawn.

Eder pulled the horse’s head up again. “No problem. At this rate, I might not have to feed him. Hey!” He pulled the horse off the grass and led it away to the small stable beside the museum.

Florian sighed. “Looks like we may want to take that friend of yours seriously.”

“I told him that there would be three tests. What do you think we should do for the second?” She glanced up at Florian but had to set her gaze back down to climb the museum’s steps. She held her skirt up, but it still brushed the stone.

“I think we should wait for the others before we decide.” Florian climbed step by step, slow. His hand still rested on her back.

Camellia was secretly thankful, as he’d banished anxious visions of her tumble down the stairs. They reached the top, and Camellia breathed hard. Her vision went a little dim, but a moment of stillness brought the brightness back.

He opened the museum’s door, and Camellia slipped into the cool foyer. Florian joined her, and the heavy door thumped closed. It blocked the sunlight, and Camellia no longer felt its warmth along her back.

In fact, Camellia swore she felt a little better. She fingered her necklace, from which hung her daystone and the shard of the mirror. It seemed the daystone was not up to its current task. Only shadows and darkness could offer her relief.

Florian took her wrist and tugged. He led her to the left, past the coat check station, towards a pair of tall thin doors. Their shoes tapped on a floor of stone.

Camellia would nap in the quiet lounge, as the museum remained closed. Florian would offer a final look at a new museum display. Never mind that they wouldn’t need the display, until the museum opened again.

Florian paused before the lounge doors. He took his hand from Camellia’s wrist and twisted an ornate silver knob. Camellia backed away and allowed the door and its carved wooden scenes to swing past.

“What do you think it is?” Camellia asked.

She stood at the threshold to the lounge. The room lay in darkness, with thick black curtains over the windows. The dark furniture and décor gave the room a sophisticated feel, to the eyes of a Groazan. Camellia had used it to dress for her wedding, and Meladee couldn’t stop praising – or complaining – about its creepiness.

“The thing on the other side of the com?”

Camellia nodded.

“I have no idea what’s on the other end of that com. But, if the Volanter put it there, you can be sure, it’s powerful.” Florian nudged her into the room. “I’ll only be a little while. Oh wait, you wanted to eat first.”

Camellia shook her head. “No. I don’t think I want to eat immediately after getting that letter.”

Florian tapped his chest, and Camellia heard the envelope rustle.

“Good point. We’ll eat later.” Florian touched her face and left.

She heard his footsteps retreat over the stone.

The Pen Pal, that was Camellia’s new name for it, did not have tentacles, but it had more power than Ah’nee’thit and Ul’thetos combined. It could reach outside its prison, much further than either of those two creatures. The only thing stopping it from toying with her little corner of the world was a lack of interest and understanding.

Camellia wandered to one of the couches. She gathered up her skirt and laid on black velvet, embroidered with gold. Camellia kept to her side. She propped her head up on a velvet pillow of black and hoped that no one had spilled wine on it at some point in time. Camellia frowned. She had every reason to fear the Pen Pal.

But, his question: Is anybody out there?

It was honest, and it meant everything to him that somebody was.

Camellia prayed her Pen Pal wouldn’t immediately refer to the first test. Florian might know, but the others didn’t. She would rather not air her dirty family laundry to the gathering. She resolved to speak first, in an effort to show her strange, new ‘friend’ something was up. Though, the Pen Pal almost always spoke first. Camellia wondered if he ever removed his hand from the console.

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Florian slid a chair up to the console, and Camellia sat. The chair put her below her normal height, but she would be able to read the words and touch the panel just fine.

Rooks couldn’t afford to leave Fauchard, and she couldn’t afford to spare her own people. She’d sent a Scaldin in her stead, and that Scaldin happened to be Alban.

Alban stood, arms crossed, on the other side of Camellia. He shot dirty looks at the guardian of women, though it stood wrapped in Eder’s magical binding chains – obviously not placed by Eder.

Sotir waited beside Alban, leaning upon his staff. Sotir’s dark eyes flicked to Camellia, then Florian, and finally back to Camellia. She looked away.

Other anthropologists and a few Scaldin guards waited in the room, and of course, Eder stood present, hanging back, though Forian coaxed him forward.

“I have to hand it to you. I wouldn’t let her do that.” Alban nodded at Camellia.

Florian tensed and didn’t answer.

“It’s safe,” Sotir quickly put in. “At least, from what I can tell.”

Camellia heard Florian’s heart slow but not to a normal pace.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Florian told Camellia. He stood by and watched the screen. He finally pulled Eder to his side. Then, he crossed his arms.

Sotir and Alban crowded Camellia. She had four men arrayed behind her, towering over her seat. They would be able to see everything she said to her Pen Pal.

Camellia sat stiff and still as possible. She took a deep breath and put her palm on the pad. I have a test for you. Her words appeared on the screen. Can you tell me again what tests are fair for the others I have with me?

Camellia stressed the last bit in her mind. It came out looking normal on the screen, but the Pen Pal might hear her voice as she heard his. He would know they were not alone.

A pause followed. Very well. Let me tell you again about the tests. I said that you could direct me to help with small things. I can perform acts of emotional healing and plant suggestions through dreams. Will three tests be necessary, or will two tests suffice?

Camellia smiled. He got her meaning loud and clear. He probably wanted to speak plainly with her, but they would have to wait for a secret meeting to accomplish that. At the very least, Camellia wanted to thank him for what he’d already done, even if it brought her a little pain.

Two tests will be fine. Thank you. For being so patient. The pause came across in her words, just as she’d meant. A period separated her thanks from her decoy sentence.

Secure in her own mind, Camellia thought, I am digging myself out of this lie, and I am never starting a new one again. Never again.

Now if Volanter objects would stop falling out of the sky or ending up in her inheritance, she would definitely be able to keep that promise.

The Pen Pal sent his thoughts along the com. I would dearly love to leave this prison. Do your companions have any tests they’d like me to run? Or, would you like to set the test?

Nothing comes to my mind. Let me talk to them for a moment.

Camellia left her hand on the pad but kept her mind locked tight. She didn’t twist around to look at the men because that would be too uncomfortable. But, she listened.

“Acts of emotional healing…” Sotir let that thought trail.

“So, this thing wants us to break it out, and just offered to let you test it?” Alban scratched at his beard.

Camellia glanced up at Florian and saw uncertainty in his eyes. Did he feel something sinister about the Pen Pal? Did he find himself now caught in the lie she’d made him proxy to? Florian knew about the first test and might have felt great discomfort at being part of it. He was an honest man – the most honest she knew. Another thought occurred to Camellia. Did he watch how skillfully she lied and exhibit trepidation about that?

Camellia averted her gaze.

“Camellia, if this thing can heal someone from god knows where, how come it can’t get itself out?” Florian asked.

“It says that it can’t perform any physical acts and requires guidance to know what to do. Our world is different from what it knows.” Camellia let the guilt wash away. She’d done right. She was sure of it.

No one should be trapped like her Pen Pal was.

“I want you to ask again,” Florian said. “Ask why it can’t get out.”

“Okay.” Camellia sighed and thought to the communication device. My companions want to know how you’re trapped. They want to know how you can perform the tests but can’t escape.

Of course, they do. Camellia could hear weariness in the words, though none of that transmitted to the written record on the screen. My form is trapped in the Volanter prison – much like the bubble that they keep for themselves, outside of time – the one that was destroyed recently.

He paused, but not for long.

It’s true. I was a powerful being. Thus, why they wanted to trap me, but I’m not as strong as they mistake me for. Now, all I can do is send my mind traveling, using this device. With a guide, I can see things and take minor actions, all having to do with the mind. I could not do any of that if the Volanter had not left this device in my prison. And, before you ask, they know I have it. They are too scared to come and take it back.

Alban stroked his beard. “They’re scared. That’s a point in this thing’s favor. What’s it name?”

Now, they want to know your name. Camellia felt a pang of sympathy. She was putting her Pen Pal through it all again.

I have none.

Camellia fought down a laugh. She could hear the annoyance in Pen Pal’s voice, and the speed with which he’d answered illustrated his frustration as well.

“I’ve been calling him Pen Pal,” Camellia said.

“Pen Pal?” Alban’s clothes rustled, as he shifted at her side.

“I think it’s a good enough name,” Florian said.

Camellia could just see him in her peripheral vision. He stood stiff, telegraphing his discomfort. Camellia thought it might come off a bit suspicious, but Florian could blame it on Camellia’s state of being. That would be fine. No one would want their wife speaking to some kind of trapped demi-god when she was supposed to be reading research and cooking a kid.

“I have a test,” Eder said. “I want it to convince my sister to quit, at least during the war.”

The whole gathering fell silent. Florian became as much of a statue as the guardian of women that still remained in the corner, surrounded by boxes and chains. The other anthropologists shuffled their feet. Sotir, visible in Camellia’s periphery, stood serene, as if it was the most natural thing to ask.

That rubbed Camellia the wrong way.

Alban chuckled. “It’s a very sweet test, but it can’t be completed. Taking talented mages out of the war effort would be a foolish thing.”

Eder scowled and backed away.

Alban continued, “Let’ send it into someone’s dream. That’s a spell of the mind. We can ask the Pen Pal to place symbols in the dream. That would serve as our proof.”

“No.” Florian shook his head. “I’d rather see something more tangible.”

Picky Florian. Camellia thought the dream test was a good one, especially after she gave Pen Pal a near impossible goal to reach. Test two should ease up.

“I served as a cultist for Ah’nee’thit,” Nael said.

Camellia turned in her seat and sat sideways. She studied Nael. He was an anthropologist who specialized in the southern islands of Tagtrum. Camellia had never considered him a target for Ah’nee’thit. Even now, he showed composure.

Nael touched his chest. “Just ask it to make me forget those times. I’d like to get back to work.”

Camellia thought that might be a more interesting test, but the room broke into conversation.

She heard Florian tell Nael that he would be sacrificing a lot more than memories of Ah’nee’thit. Sotir offered advice along the same lines, citing how people learn from their mistakes. Other anthropologists exclaimed that it wasn’t fair. They knew people who wanted to forget Ah’nee’thit.

Camellia held up a hand. “Why don’t I give Pen Pal all the options? We’ll see what Pen Pal wants to do.”

The voices died, and to Camellia’s surprise, they all heard her request.

Alban said, “I want it to go into Curator Rooks’ dream and plant three symbols. Then, it should wake her up, with a message to call us.”

“I want it to make my sister sit out the rest of the war on Iruedim,” Eder said. “I want it to convince her to stop fighting.”

Camellia stiffened.

“I want to forget,” Nael repeated.

“I want my father to forget I was a cultist.” Everyone looked at the speaker, a middle aged restorationist. She shrugged. “It’s fine if I remember, but he just won’t let it go.”

Camellia winced. “Anything Florian?” She looked up at him.

He stood with arms crossed and merely glanced in her direction. “I just want a healthy child, but I don’t want it meddling with that. Thank goodness it can’t.”

Camellia nodded. She slid around in her seat and turned to Sotir. “Anything?”

He waved a hand in dismissal, but his downcast and narrow eyes betrayed his brewing idea. “You have enough to give it. Maybe, the last test.”

Camellia looked ahead, feeling that might have been a subtle message, not only that he wanted her to save the last test for his purposes but also that he knew the last test would actually be the third. Otherwise, why not say the second?

Camellia took a deep breath. Her arm felt tired. She’d kept it on the pad the entire time. I have four possible tests for you. Which would you prefer? Send a message to a dream and wake the dreamer. Convince a combatant to become a civilian. Erase one of my companion’s memories. Or, erase a companion’s father’s memories?

Shocked laughter reached both screen and Camellia’s mind. She smiled.

I am quite surprised by the complexity of your people and their darker thoughts. I would rather not toy with memory, though I could. I must not work on the combatant. It will be a difficult task, and I would hesitate to weaken your forces. I will send the message to the dreamer. Can you give me a description of who and what the message will be?

Alban stood a little straighter. “Let’s tell our slumbering Rooks to call Alban. Use her first name in the dream and place the bird she’s named for somewhere she’ll notice it. Tell her that rest shift is over; it’s time to wake up and ask about the com device. And, have all of this information told to her through the mouth of Mr. Joto. He is a favored toy of her past. Some kind of round eared creature, with short black fur and a star pattern.”

“Mr. Joto,” Camellia said. She thought that round ears might refer to something like a bear, and Girandola had creatures that were close enough. Camellia wondered if Mr. Joto resided somewhere on the Fauchard.

“That’s a good idea,” Eder agreed, sullenly.

“It is,” Alban said.

Sotir chuckled. “I’m guessing that she’s dreamed of Mr. Joto before. Did Hagen report this information?”

“Yes, he did,” Alban said.

Camellia delivered the message. She showed Pen Pal Curator Wren Rooks, the bird, and an idea of what Mr. Joto might look like. She admitted that she might not have it right. Still, she opened up that little corner of her mind. Across the screen, Camellia wrote: Please, tell Commander Rooks that she needs to wake up and call Alban and ask about this device we’re using. She is asleep but should wake up soon. Oh, and we want you to use the guise of a Mr. Joto when you appear in her dream.

Camellia could hear Pen Pal’s sigh.

This is a weird world. I’ll do it. I’ll make sure I check her memory of the Joto before I take his shape. You may take your hand from the pad as I will need some time. We can reinitiate contact in a short while if you are willing to wait.

I’ll wait, Camellia promised.

Talk to you soon.

Camellia took a rest in Florian’s office. He worked at his desk. At first, she had started reading a paper, but the effort of telepathic communication, with such a large audience, had taken its toll. She fell asleep, and the paper dropped to the floor.

Everyone else busied themselves around the headquarters.

Camellia awoke to a conversation just outside Florian’s office door.

“Did Mr. Joto tell you all of this?” Alban asked.

From a distant com came Rooks’ voice, “I thought your dream invader wasn’t on this mission?”

“He’s not. We’re testing that extradimensional being to see if it can offer us help in exterminating the Volanter. Of course, we have to break it out first, but that’ll come later. We sent you the dream as a test,” Alban explained. A smile seemed to lay in his voice.

“Thanks for the dream, I guess.”

Alban cleared his throat. “How does she find these things? These extradimensional beings? Your Camellia that is.”

Rooks paused for a while. Then, she said, “She’s got a knack for it.”

Alban walked further down the hall, and Camellia missed the rest of the conversation. Florian strolled into his office with some water and food.

“For me?” Camellia held out her hands.

“The water is for you. We’re sharing the food.” Florian brought it to his desk and started to clear a space away from important papers.

Camellia got up and joined him.

Halfway through their meal, Alban stood in the doorway. “We need to think of another test for this thing.”

Camellia perked up. She saw Sotir behind Alban, waiting.

“We shouldn’t rush,” Florian said.

“I agree.” Camellia got up slow.

“I didn’t suggest we rush. I suggest we think of a good test.” Alban raised an eyebrow. “Let’s at least finish talking to it.”

“Maybe, you can have someone take over on your complete device.” Florian rose from his chair. “Then, Camellia doesn’t have to do anything.”

“We tried that on the one we have. It doesn’t want to talk to anyone but her.” Alban pointed at Camellia.

She mouthed the word ‘me’ and put a hand over her breast.

“Just you,” Alban agreed.

Camellia glanced at Florian. He pressed his lips together and wouldn’t meet her eyes.

Camellia delivered the good news that the test had been a success, but they weren’t sure yet what they wanted their last test to be. Pen Pal said he would be waiting. That was that. At least, for the others.

Camellia snuck back after the Scaldin had gone and Florian went to his work. She told her husband she would be in the museum, but come evening, she circled back and crept into the basement.

Thank you. What you did with my father…I thought that was impossible.

It was difficult, but there was a seed for me to work with. You’re very welcome. I have to ask…are you an adult?

Camellia snorted. She was so insulted, but she threw some amusement into her voice. She understood why he would ask. Yes, I’m an adult. I’m just a…pregnant adult.

Oh, that’s why you’re being watched.

Among other reasons. I don’t need you to do a second test for me, but one of my companions today wanted to ask for something. He had to leave before I could talk to him. I think his test should be the third.

How long till you can talk to him again?

I don’t know. Are you in a rush?

Not truly, but you are.