‘Ker wasn’t certain why Trutt was constantly irritated with him and Ellen.

On the “Hop Over,” he had learned the word “nurse” and, more importantly, learned that it wasn’t a part of Ellen’s name. That had been a slight relief, buffered by mild embarrassment. The better he spoke this ridiculous swamp of a language, the less he would stick out. Blending in here, now, would be more important than it was back in the days of the Roman Empire. Most Roman officials, military or civilian, if they found you offensive they would charge you a special tax. Unless they had specific orders to imprison or kill you. That had been the same in many Daoine nations, the human nations, of his youth.

‘Ker watched as the little H’Aghram man ate a syrup covered pastry in a rush, and then had been on the brink of starting on another one from his crunchy sounding bag when the unnatural, glowing patch of runes embedded in his left forearm lit up, and buzzed.

Watching as the little man stepped away from where they all now sat to “take this call” ‘Tj’Chin’Ker wondered at the many layers of different magics involved in this “datpad” thing so many people had access to. It looked, from his perspective, like a wonder! Allowing communication, and even recording of events in a way that was more thorough than the best of Court Scribes he had ever beheld, even in the Harappan Courts he had traveled to as his older brother’s Crith.

Being a Crith, or weapon-holder, for an older sibling was how most of the ‘Tj’Shae youth learned about the Daoine kingdoms. He missed those days of his own youth, when he didn’t yet question so many of the decisions made for him, and everyone else, by “Royals.” Growing up had been vexing. And lonely. No one had told him that becoming an adult would be quite so… lonely.

But, in this here, and in this now, he watched as the little man now talked in an agitated fashion with someone on his datpad.

In the seat to his left, in the periphery of his vision, Ellen sat. From the position of her form, he could tell she was looking at him as he furnished his last piece of toast. From what he could see of her hands, clenched in her lap, she was anxious about something.

‘Ker knew he was missing a lot. The manner in which the Daoine had advanced, and had advanced in so many incredible ways, while the ‘Tj’Shae had been away, astounded him.

His own people had practically stood still while the Sunlit World had turned into a radiant panoply of wonders.

…were we holding them back? Or are we just not as “clever" as the humans? ‘Ker thought. He remembered bronze geared automatons in places like Kufa and Basra. Even in Edirne, the Daoine makers had used steam power to open great, heavy doors. But, these wonders of “modern science” were too much to take in all at once. He knew there were more things that he was missing here than he even could conceive of. It was vastly vexing; ‘Ker wasn’t even certain he knew where to begin to ask the right questions that might lead him toward understanding.

As he continued to watch Trutt, off ahead oh where he now sat, ‘Tj’Chin’Ker could see movement in the milling crowd several strides to the right, and just past where Trutt stood speaking animatedly into his datpad. Three young men, all with the matching white suits of clothing that the men who had attacked him back across the ocean they had all just crossed, now moved with cautious speed toward Trutt, and, he suspected, Ellen and himself.

He placed a hand on Ellen’s knee, making the tall woman jump in sudden shock, and told her “Stay.” in his most steady, and reassuring voice.

‘Ker knew it was time to play, but that the secret to his success now would be to NOT leave bodies strewn about this… aero-course?... sure… why not?

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He didn’t run. Running would draw the eyes of his enemies, as well as all the other people around him in this busy place.

He stood. And then slowly turned to quickly assess the rest of dangers he might face in this grand, noisy hall of people, some arriving, some departing, all moving.

He took a moment to match his breathing to the breathing of all of those around him that he could see. Could hear. All that he might feel.

Then he stepped.

He stepped with care and precision.

Winding his way around the cramped and twisted benches on which Ellen and he had been sitting. He wove his way about the concourse and through all of the people who had been between his own party and the approaching set of young, roughly handsome men dressed mostly in white linen suits.

He hummed, then. Stepping purposefully about the carpeted concourse, moving in complex ellipsis as he wove his thoughts and will about the image of those he would protect, and before those he would deceive.

He began to grab small items from passing people. A stylus here. A man’s blue cap with a strange goose beak-like brim. A festive ribbon from one young woman’s hair.

And onward he spun. Matching the average pace and speed of everyone in his visual range.

He then plucked one of Ellen’s bright, coppery hairs as he twirled past where she sat, and gestured with finger to lips for her to remain at peace, praying it meant the same thing to her as it meant to him.

‘Tj’Chin’Ker matched the tone and pitch of his murmuring hum to the ambient sounds of humanity about the three travelers, making the visual fabric of the world around them start to waver, and smear together to any outside observer.

He tied the bundle of objects he had liberated with the strand of Ellen’s hair, licked it, and then pushed his will into the newly made totem.

A third time gently moving around the course he had previously set.

He stepped, and slid, and glided through the crowd, making the inside of the crowd moving about them look exactly as the outside of the crowd looked. And then, with the grace and sensuality of a pat of butter melting down the side of a heated loaf of bread, as he pressed his will into the circle he had slowly danced, the image slowly inverted itself.

He stood for a moment and watched from within the visual blind spot about them all that he had created as the men, now four of them, came to a slow stop, and slowly turned their heads this way. They looked this way and that, trying to visually reacquire their quarry. From where he stood, they, and everyone else around them in the concourse, looked slightly blurry. Just out of focus, as if he had been squinting at them from under a sheer veil of cloth.

With a quick hop backwards, he planted his newly made totem into the pocket of a gruff and unkempt looking man’s shoulder bag as the large man lumbered passed him on his way to to wherever it was he had been headed, and then ‘Ker slowly turned and walked back to where his tall, confused looking friend sat.

He gestured at Trutt to return to his seat. He gestured that Trutt should move slowly.

Trutt nodded, chewing and swallowing the last of whatever confection he had been eating while he had been talking on the datpad.

Looking down the hallway, he could just see in the distance the wavery image of a very tall, very curvaceous, and very red-headed woman walking along with a shoulder bag, and what looked like two smaller men at either side of her as she walked with alluring, feminine grace.

There was a muted exclamations, heard as if through water, and the images of the four young men in white raced down the long hallway after the retreating illusion of Ellen.

As he sat back down, sweat beading his forehead and upper lip, he let out a sigh as he let his will slip from where it held the illusion.

His breathing was harder than he thought it should have been, his heart pounding in his chest. I am so weak… I need to rest more…

From his left he heard Ellen ask in a panicked and affronted tone “Is that really what I look like? Is THAT really how I walk?! What the…?!”