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The next day was the twenty-sixth, and Inlé went to see the psychiatrist. As he entered the waiting area, the blonde girl behind the counter was talking to the asian girl from school. When the receptionist saw him enter, she broke conversation and greeted him. "Ah! Mr. Zapfino, how are you, today."

Inlé walked up to the desk, reading the nameplate--Tanya--and said, "Well enough. And yourself?"

"Well enough," she cheerily mimicked him. "The doctor will see you shortly, please have a seat while you wait." She turned back to her friend and the two seemed to forget his presence. He sat and waited unmoving.

A few minutes later, Tanya called, "Mr. Zapfino? The doctor will see you now."

Inlé rose and walked toward the doctor's room. He passed his classmate as she headed for the door, leaving. Tanya was engaged with the man who'd just seen the doctor. The asian girl looked sidelong at Inlé as she walked past him, eyeing him with more than a passing interest. For less than an instant, her brown eyes seemed to flash orange, but the change went unnoticed by Inlé.

Inlé walked into the office, and greeted the doctor.

"Inlé, welcome back," the doctor greeted him. "How has your week been?"

Inlé moved to the long chair and told the doctor about his week, omitting those parts which the doctor would consider insane. When Inlé finished his brief disclosure, there was a long silence as the doctor digested the story.

"Two fights in a week, Inlé," the doctor said. "You don't sit still, do you? Not two months in school and already you have more enemies than friends."

"I do not even do anything," Inlé said, arm over eyes. "Things just come together as they do."

"So you say," the doctor agreed. "You don't instigate any of this?"

"Why would I?"

The doctor paused, then changed directions, "I'm somewhat surprised you're not in trouble for any of this."

"Why?"

"Well, for one, you put someone into the hospital." Then he added, "And he's in a coma."

"But he was one person in a group, and attacked with weapons," Inlé explained again. "What I did was nearly self-defence."

"Nearly?" the doctor echoed. He shook his head. "Regardless, the rest of them are a good deal worse for wear in your description as well."

"They did it to themselves," Inlé answered nonchalantly.

"And how do you feel about this relationship your mother is getting into?" the doctor asked, again changing the direction of the conversation.

"If she is happy with it, why should I care? She is my mother," Inlé said emotionlessly, "not my issue."

"Issue?" the doctor echoed.

"Child, ward. Sorry," Inlé apologized. "She is not mine to look after."

"She is still family, though," the doctor pressed.

"Of course," Inlé agreed. "But part of family is accepting the decisions of other members whether you agree with them or not. Am I wrong?"

"No," the doctor agreed reluctantly. "It seems I took you for more of the controlling type."

"If I were in control, things would be different, to be sure," Inlé said.

The doctor leaned forward. "How so?"

"I do not know," Inlé began. After a pause, he continued, "I would be normal, and would not need a psychiatrist, I suppose. No offense intended."

"None taken," the doctor smiled. "I can see what you mean. Why don't you tell me more about your childhood. What was your father like?"

"He was an archaeologist," Inlé said. "I did not see much of him, but whenever he came home, my mother would prepare special meals.

"He always brought home artifacts he had found. Ancient items from all around the world. Most of them were baubles worth nothing to anyone but an archaeologist, but some of the items were quite unique. The last thing he brought home was an opal necklace he gave Mother. Most of our things were left at the main house when we moved here, but Mother keeps the necklace with her."

"The main house?" the doctor asked.

"Yes," Inlé answered. "My father was well enough recognized that Mother and I could live off of the royalties for his dissertation and a few other published papers, which they use to teach in some colleges. The main house is where I was born, and is fully paid for now. It is a small house in Vermont, but we have not been there much since father disappeared.

"Mother works to keep herself busy, but the money she makes is basically for her luxury. She teaches at the University, which is why we live here now."

"Your mother is a professor?" the doctor asked.

"She is, in fact," Inlé answered. "She holds degrees in botany and geology. 'Flowers and the stuff they live in', she says. When I was younger, Mother told me of all the travels she and Father had together, researching at the same sites 'to gain a fuller understanding of man and how he fits into the schemes of the world'.

"This stopped when I was born, of course. Travel is hard enough without an infant. She had said we would begin traveling with Father when I reached thirteen, because I would be old enough to be able to keep up, but he disappeared before that could happen."

"If she was so well travelled, does she also have any writing published?"

"She does, in fact. But most of it is in the form of photo books of flowers and rocks from around the world. She has an eye for beauty."

"Now," the doctor began, "twice you've mentioned your father disappearing. What do you mean?"

"Father was studying what he called the 'hotspots' of the world, those places with mysteries surrounding them."

"Like Easter Island?"

"And Stonehenge, yes. He was actually on something of a vacation, you see. He wanted to write about those places, to uncover their mysteries, but no serious institution would pay him to research them, because they saw too little profit in it.

"Because of this, he spent a month every year at one of these places. He was alone more often than not, though he was capable enough and kept in touch regularly enough that no one could complain.

"And then, one day, he vanished near the Henge."

"Vanished?"

"That is the best explanation I can give. Tourists frequent the ruin, as you may know, and many of the tour guides knew Father, since he was there regularly. Between one group of tourists leaving and another group arriving, he had vanished.

"The vehicle he had driven over was parked where he had left it. His tools were left spread out before where he had been. The guide on duty knew Father well, and realized something was wrong when he saw the tools. Father was very particular, and would never have left his tools lying around, even for something quick like relieving himself. He was meticulous."

"And there is no chance he just ran off somewhere?" the doctor asked.

"None," Inlé answered. "He did not really have many places he could go.

"I said he had left his tools, and that is true. That may seem insignificant at first, but as I said, he was particular. Father disliked carrying anything in his pockets, and so had a special unfolding toolkit. It was a bag-sized wallet. All of his tools were in it. His various forms of identification, currencies both plastic and coin, his keys.

"The only thing he kept on his person was a locket Mother gave him when they were married. Whenever he came home, he took a new picture of her and put it in the locket, with a larger copy in his kit, alongside every successive picture."

"He sounds like quite the romantic," the doctor noted.

"True," Inlé agreed. "And very much in love with Mother. He always offered to give up the road and stay home with us. Mother always laughed and told him he still needed to be out in the world. She cried when he was gone--she still does, in fact--but she always let him go out. It meant a good deal to him, and so to her, that he could see the world he loved. He loved her more, of course, but even I could tell he needed the road.

"Anyway, he vanished within a thirty minute window, in an area where disappearance shouldn't be possible. Or at least probable."

"You did quite a bit of this yourself, around that time, did you not?"

"I did. The first time I had the dream I told you about was a month before he disappeared. He was actually with Mother when I got back from my first disappearance. It was the only time I ever saw him angry. He was livid that I had disappeared and abandoned Mother. In truth, I doubt my safety was even on his mind while I was absent."

"You think he cared so little for you?"

"I think he considered mother's distress of higher priority than my own safety, to be sure, but I do not think he was uncaring. He was confident I could handle myself at twelve. By my twelfth birthday, I had been taught this and that by him, so I was competent enough to survive on my own for a while."

"This and that?"

"Basic survival things, mostly. How to survive in the wilderness, including the wild cities. I had a manual I was to commit to memory that he added onto every time he came home. He even tested me on it. My physical capabilities were tested, as well. I needed to be strong and competent if I was to travel with my parents."

"It sounds as if he was training an adventurer."

"Well, he was a fan of Indiana Jones-type stories, and joked that his job was similar to those. I believed him as a child, though Mother scolded him for telling me wild stories. I wonder sometimes now how much of them was true."

"You'll have to tell me about them some time," the doctor said. He looked at his watch. "But, well, that's about it for today. Why don't you schedule another appointment for next month?"

Inlé sat. "Not next week?"

"Do you want to come that often?" the doctor asked.

"No, I suppose not," Inlé said, rising. With a nod, Inlé headed for the door. "Thank you for your time again, sir."

He went to the reception desk to arrange his next appointment. Tanya, sitting behind the desk, flashed him a smile as he approached.

"So is Sunday always good for you?" she asked.

"Yeah," Inlé answered.

Her smile vanished. "Oh no you don't! We played that game last time," she scolded. "You're going to give me something else this time, you got it?"

"Yeah," Inlé answered.

Tanya pouted. "Now you're just being mean ..."

"I apologize," Inlé said, "but honestly, there is little outside of school that I do. As such, I am mostly available. Sunday is, truly, fine."

"All right," Tanya said, more brightly. "So would you rather be in on the twenty-third or the thirtieth, then?"

"Either is fine."

"The thirtieth it is," Tanya decided. "Same time okay?"

"Yeah," Inlé answered.

She looked up then. "So we're still on for tonight, right?"

"Yeah."

"You could pretend to be interested, you know," Tanya scolded.

"I apologize," he said. "Is there anything I should do between now and six?"

"Do you know what movie you want to see?"

"I will watch whatever you want to. I have no preference."

Tanya made a pointedly unsurprised face. "Good, we can watch 'The Cabal' then. It just came out."

"Very well," Inlé said.

"Could you get the tickets ahead of time? I'll pay you back for mine," Tanya said. "I just don't want to miss it on account of it being sold out."

"Very well. Is that all?" Inlé asked.

"Sure. Try for the six fifteen showing. We can go straight there from here."

"As you wish," Inlé said, turning toward the door. "I will meet you here at six, then."

He left the office and stepped onto the street. After taking a minute to orient himself, Inlé began walking in the direction of the theater. He was almost to the theater when a voice called for him from an alleyway as he passed it, "Wanderer!"

He turned and stepped into the alley to face the thug now before him. The thug was of unremarkable build, dressed as a mob grunt: black clothing, leather jacket, and large sunglasses. Even its steel-grey, slicked-back hair would not have warranted much attention but for the pale grey face it capped.

Inlé asked, "You want something from me, Jack?"

This Jack, so different from the last, but still a petty messenger answered, "The Queen got your message, Wanderer. The King too."

"That was a week ago," Inlé said. "Have you been so busy?"

"Not so much, no," the Jack said. "The King, though, he don't like you blowin' him off like that. Writin' only to the Queen."

"Listen, you," Inlé began, "there are one hundred and eight independent realms of Faerie. Do you understand what that means?

"One hundred and eight different Oberon and Titania. Many of them are at war one with the other, or one of the two is dead. In some, both are simultaneously true. That I can keep your myriad realms together well enough to contact the one who hired me for a specific task is a wonder of itself.

"If it bothers your king so, tell him to contract me himself. Had he hired me, he would have been sent my confirmation."

"That's all well and good, you to say to me," the Jack said. "But it ain't my job to remember who's who. It's yours."

"Why am I even talking to you?" Inlé asked impassively. "You are only a messenger. What message does your lord send me?"

Thumbing over his shoulder, the Jack said, "He wants I should take you back to him. He wants to talk to you. Got it?"

"Now?" Inlé asked.

"You got it," the Jack answered. It turned and walked deeper into the shadows of the alley with Inlé following close behind.

"This had better be important," Inlé said.

Description
The next day was the twenty-sixth, and Inlé went to see the psychiatrist. As he entered the waiting area, the blonde girl behind the counter was talking to the asian girl from school. When the receptionist saw him enter, she broke conversation and greeted him. "Ah! Mr. Zapfino, how are you, today."

Inlé walked up to the desk, reading the nameplate--Tanya--and said, "Well enough. And yourself?"

"Well enough," she cheerily mimicked him. "The doctor will see you shortly, please have a seat while you wait." She turned back to her friend and the two seemed to forget his presence. He sat and waited unmoving.

A few minutes later, Tanya called, "Mr. Zapfino? The doctor will see you now."

Inlé rose and walked toward the doctor's room. He passed his classmate as she headed for the door, leaving. Tanya was engaged with the man who'd just seen the doctor. The asian girl looked sidelong at Inlé as she walked past him, eyeing him with more than a passing interest. For less than an instant, her brown eyes seemed to flash orange, but the change went unnoticed by Inlé.

Inlé walked into the office, and greeted the doctor.

"Inlé, welcome back," the doctor greeted him. "How has your week been?"

Inlé moved to the long chair and told the doctor about his week, omitting those parts which the doctor would consider insane. When Inlé finished his brief disclosure, there was a long silence as the doctor digested the story.

"Two fights in a week, Inlé," the doctor said. "You don't sit still, do you? Not two months in school and already you have more enemies than friends."

"I do not even do anything," Inlé said, arm over eyes. "Things just come together as they do."

"So you say," the doctor agreed. "You don't instigate any of this?"

"Why would I?"

The doctor paused, then changed directions, "I'm somewhat surprised you're not in trouble for any of this."

"Why?"

"Well, for one, you put someone into the hospital." Then he added, "And he's in a coma."

"But he was one person in a group, and attacked with weapons," Inlé explained again. "What I did was nearly self-defence."

"Nearly?" the doctor echoed. He shook his head. "Regardless, the rest of them are a good deal worse for wear in your description as well."

"They did it to themselves," Inlé answered nonchalantly.

"And how do you feel about this relationship your mother is getting into?" the doctor asked, again changing the direction of the conversation.

"If she is happy with it, why should I care? She is my mother," Inlé said emotionlessly, "not my issue."

"Issue?" the doctor echoed.

"Child, ward. Sorry," Inlé apologized. "She is not mine to look after."

"She is still family, though," the doctor pressed.

"Of course," Inlé agreed. "But part of family is accepting the decisions of other members whether you agree with them or not. Am I wrong?"

"No," the doctor agreed reluctantly. "It seems I took you for more of the controlling type."

"If I were in control, things would be different, to be sure," Inlé said.

The doctor leaned forward. "How so?"

"I do not know," Inlé began. After a pause, he continued, "I would be normal, and would not need a psychiatrist, I suppose. No offense intended."

"None taken," the doctor smiled. "I can see what you mean. Why don't you tell me more about your childhood. What was your father like?"

"He was an archaeologist," Inlé said. "I did not see much of him, but whenever he came home, my mother would prepare special meals.

"He always brought home artifacts he had found. Ancient items from all around the world. Most of them were baubles worth nothing to anyone but an archaeologist, but some of the items were quite unique. The last thing he brought home was an opal necklace he gave Mother. Most of our things were left at the main house when we moved here, but Mother keeps the necklace with her."

"The main house?" the doctor asked.

"Yes," Inlé answered. "My father was well enough recognized that Mother and I could live off of the royalties for his dissertation and a few other published papers, which they use to teach in some colleges. The main house is where I was born, and is fully paid for now. It is a small house in Vermont, but we have not been there much since father disappeared.

"Mother works to keep herself busy, but the money she makes is basically for her luxury. She teaches at the University, which is why we live here now."

"Your mother is a professor?" the doctor asked.

"She is, in fact," Inlé answered. "She holds degrees in botany and geology. 'Flowers and the stuff they live in', she says. When I was younger, Mother told me of all the travels she and Father had together, researching at the same sites 'to gain a fuller understanding of man and how he fits into the schemes of the world'.

"This stopped when I was born, of course. Travel is hard enough without an infant. She had said we would begin traveling with Father when I reached thirteen, because I would be old enough to be able to keep up, but he disappeared before that could happen."

"If she was so well travelled, does she also have any writing published?"

"She does, in fact. But most of it is in the form of photo books of flowers and rocks from around the world. She has an eye for beauty."

"Now," the doctor began, "twice you've mentioned your father disappearing. What do you mean?"

"Father was studying what he called the 'hotspots' of the world, those places with mysteries surrounding them."

"Like Easter Island?"

"And Stonehenge, yes. He was actually on something of a vacation, you see. He wanted to write about those places, to uncover their mysteries, but no serious institution would pay him to research them, because they saw too little profit in it.

"Because of this, he spent a month every year at one of these places. He was alone more often than not, though he was capable enough and kept in touch regularly enough that no one could complain.

"And then, one day, he vanished near the Henge."

"Vanished?"

"That is the best explanation I can give. Tourists frequent the ruin, as you may know, and many of the tour guides knew Father, since he was there regularly. Between one group of tourists leaving and another group arriving, he had vanished.

"The vehicle he had driven over was parked where he had left it. His tools were left spread out before where he had been. The guide on duty knew Father well, and realized something was wrong when he saw the tools. Father was very particular, and would never have left his tools lying around, even for something quick like relieving himself. He was meticulous."

"And there is no chance he just ran off somewhere?" the doctor asked.

"None," Inlé answered. "He did not really have many places he could go.

"I said he had left his tools, and that is true. That may seem insignificant at first, but as I said, he was particular. Father disliked carrying anything in his pockets, and so had a special unfolding toolkit. It was a bag-sized wallet. All of his tools were in it. His various forms of identification, currencies both plastic and coin, his keys.

"The only thing he kept on his person was a locket Mother gave him when they were married. Whenever he came home, he took a new picture of her and put it in the locket, with a larger copy in his kit, alongside every successive picture."

"He sounds like quite the romantic," the doctor noted.

"True," Inlé agreed. "And very much in love with Mother. He always offered to give up the road and stay home with us. Mother always laughed and told him he still needed to be out in the world. She cried when he was gone--she still does, in fact--but she always let him go out. It meant a good deal to him, and so to her, that he could see the world he loved. He loved her more, of course, but even I could tell he needed the road.

"Anyway, he vanished within a thirty minute window, in an area where disappearance shouldn't be possible. Or at least probable."

"You did quite a bit of this yourself, around that time, did you not?"

"I did. The first time I had the dream I told you about was a month before he disappeared. He was actually with Mother when I got back from my first disappearance. It was the only time I ever saw him angry. He was livid that I had disappeared and abandoned Mother. In truth, I doubt my safety was even on his mind while I was absent."

"You think he cared so little for you?"

"I think he considered mother's distress of higher priority than my own safety, to be sure, but I do not think he was uncaring. He was confident I could handle myself at twelve. By my twelfth birthday, I had been taught this and that by him, so I was competent enough to survive on my own for a while."

"This and that?"

"Basic survival things, mostly. How to survive in the wilderness, including the wild cities. I had a manual I was to commit to memory that he added onto every time he came home. He even tested me on it. My physical capabilities were tested, as well. I needed to be strong and competent if I was to travel with my parents."

"It sounds as if he was training an adventurer."

"Well, he was a fan of Indiana Jones-type stories, and joked that his job was similar to those. I believed him as a child, though Mother scolded him for telling me wild stories. I wonder sometimes now how much of them was true."

"You'll have to tell me about them some time," the doctor said. He looked at his watch. "But, well, that's about it for today. Why don't you schedule another appointment for next month?"

Inlé sat. "Not next week?"

"Do you want to come that often?" the doctor asked.

"No, I suppose not," Inlé said, rising. With a nod, Inlé headed for the door. "Thank you for your time again, sir."

He went to the reception desk to arrange his next appointment. Tanya, sitting behind the desk, flashed him a smile as he approached.

"So is Sunday always good for you?" she asked.

"Yeah," Inlé answered.

Her smile vanished. "Oh no you don't! We played that game last time," she scolded. "You're going to give me something else this time, you got it?"

"Yeah," Inlé answered.

Tanya pouted. "Now you're just being mean ..."

"I apologize," Inlé said, "but honestly, there is little outside of school that I do. As such, I am mostly available. Sunday is, truly, fine."

"All right," Tanya said, more brightly. "So would you rather be in on the twenty-third or the thirtieth, then?"

"Either is fine."

"The thirtieth it is," Tanya decided. "Same time okay?"

"Yeah," Inlé answered.

She looked up then. "So we're still on for tonight, right?"

"Yeah."

"You could pretend to be interested, you know," Tanya scolded.

"I apologize," he said. "Is there anything I should do between now and six?"

"Do you know what movie you want to see?"

"I will watch whatever you want to. I have no preference."

Tanya made a pointedly unsurprised face. "Good, we can watch 'The Cabal' then. It just came out."

"Very well," Inlé said.

"Could you get the tickets ahead of time? I'll pay you back for mine," Tanya said. "I just don't want to miss it on account of it being sold out."

"Very well. Is that all?" Inlé asked.

"Sure. Try for the six fifteen showing. We can go straight there from here."

"As you wish," Inlé said, turning toward the door. "I will meet you here at six, then."

He left the office and stepped onto the street. After taking a minute to orient himself, Inlé began walking in the direction of the theater. He was almost to the theater when a voice called for him from an alleyway as he passed it, "Wanderer!"

He turned and stepped into the alley to face the thug now before him. The thug was of unremarkable build, dressed as a mob grunt: black clothing, leather jacket, and large sunglasses. Even its steel-grey, slicked-back hair would not have warranted much attention but for the pale grey face it capped.

Inlé asked, "You want something from me, Jack?"

This Jack, so different from the last, but still a petty messenger answered, "The Queen got your message, Wanderer. The King too."

"That was a week ago," Inlé said. "Have you been so busy?"

"Not so much, no," the Jack said. "The King, though, he don't like you blowin' him off like that. Writin' only to the Queen."

"Listen, you," Inlé began, "there are one hundred and eight independent realms of Faerie. Do you understand what that means?

"One hundred and eight different Oberon and Titania. Many of them are at war one with the other, or one of the two is dead. In some, both are simultaneously true. That I can keep your myriad realms together well enough to contact the one who hired me for a specific task is a wonder of itself.

"If it bothers your king so, tell him to contract me himself. Had he hired me, he would have been sent my confirmation."

"That's all well and good, you to say to me," the Jack said. "But it ain't my job to remember who's who. It's yours."

"Why am I even talking to you?" Inlé asked impassively. "You are only a messenger. What message does your lord send me?"

Thumbing over his shoulder, the Jack said, "He wants I should take you back to him. He wants to talk to you. Got it?"

"Now?" Inlé asked.

"You got it," the Jack answered. It turned and walked deeper into the shadows of the alley with Inlé following close behind.

"This had better be important," Inlé said.