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Inlé found himself standing in a field of waist-high grass peppered with wildflowers. About him stood a circle of twelve strangely dressed maidens, and upon the brow of each maiden rested a small thin circlet to hold their long, black hair to their heads. Every circlet and sleeveless silk gown was individual to each woman, so that no two were the same.
Inlé did a quick clockwise circle to see each woman. The first wore a black gown and a silver circlet set with an onyx over her forehead. The second, a white gown and a gold circlet inset with a pearl. Next was a red gown, a golden band, and a ruby. Then a yellow band and a golden band with a citrine. The wearer of the blue dress had a golden circlet with a sapphire, while the green gown was paired with a silver circlet and an alexandrite. A purple dress was complimented by an amethyst in a silver circlet, and the orange dress's silver circlet held a jacinth. A jasper-set gold band paired with a brown gown, while an opal in silver rested above a grey one. The last two maidens wore their dresses--one of silver and one of gold--with unadorned circlets of the same material.
Their hands lifted to join one with another, and they began to spin clockwise around him. Together they called, "Join us, good wanderer. The dance will ease your weariness and soothe your heart."
Inlé placed his fist over his heart, bowing slightly. Rising straight again, he left his fist over his heart as he answered, "Nay, fair ladies, I may not. I am here but to observe your dance, and to applaud your grace. Were my untrained feet to join you, they would bring ruin to the dance's beauty and shame upon myself.
"Pray, let me, this mere mortal, look on your fairness and think myself blessed whilst I rest."
They women chorused, "Very well. but if you are able to stay to the end of our dancing, please join us afterwards to meal."
Inlé bowed slightly again as he replied, "Mayhaps I will, good ladies. But I cannot promise anything. A mortal man has precious little time to live, and I wish to use mine to its fullest effect."
The dance began to accelerate. "Very well," they said. The women spun about faster and faster until they began to blur together.
Inlé stood within the multicolored ring, watching as the pale faces whipped past, watching as they smiled and laughed with their eyes. His own face was still emotionless, but his stance was more relaxed as he let his fist lower and unclench at his side.
The sun climbed across the sky, approached the horizon, then sank below it, leaving the world to the dark of night. Still the maidens spun about their lone observer. Night crawled on until the twilight before dawn, and then the circle began to slow.
The maidens slowed until their forms were once more individual. After a time, the circle stopped completely, and their hands released each other. Twelve smiling faces were turned in toward Inlé.
"Now," they chorused. "You said you would join us for a meal. Come, it is not far."
Inlé bowed more reverently, "As you wish, fair ladies."
He followed behind as the tireless maidens capered ahead and about him, leading him to a low hillock, atop which was a small campsite with a fire and a feast laid out in wait.
Spits of pheasant, rabbit, and fish were staked about the fire, their odors wafting temptingly down to the approaching party. Wooden bowls of fresh fruits and crisp salads were placed between platters of breads and cheeses. Clay pitchers and jugs of drink also lay interspersed about the meal. A ring of colorful mats lay among the food, proving seats for each person in the party. Upon each mat sat a wooden plate, a clay mug, a two tined fork, and a sharp knife.
The maidens scattered to their seats, and Inlé found a place prepared also for himself, where he sat and ate with the maidens. The women sang gaily as spits, platters, bowls, pitchers and jugs were passed cheerily about. No notice was paid to spilt drink, and fallen food was quickly scooped up and placed upon a plate, or thrown to the flames. The women feasted and sang, rejoicing in the beauty around them.
Inlé himself ate quietly, taking what was offered him and passing what was asked. But his eyes held a glint of merriment unusual in his stony face, belying his normal stoicism.

After the feast, Inlé sat on the hillside. Shooed from the tidying after the meal, he sat to digest.
The maiden in orange leaned over from behind Inlé, her dark hair cascading into his lap as she rested her hands lightly on his shoulders. In a tinkling voice, she asked, "Would it displease, my detaining you brief moments further, that we might discuss at length your attendance this night?"
Inlé blinked once at the upside-down eyes inches from his own, and replied, "Nay, Lady. An honor beyond myself, it would be. I am beholden to suit such pleas."
"Just so," she said, moving lightly to sit beside him. "Would it displease, our release of formalities?"
"Nay, Lady. Worthy, I am not. But if so you pray, so shall I rescind."
She smiled. "Good. Formalities always wear on me. Though you are a surprise, boy."
"Am I?" Inlé asked.
"Three nights," the lady in orange continued, "you have appeared to us just before the dance, and this is the first time you've stayed?
"Unusual, to say the least. How did you remove yourself so quickly the last two times?"
"I woke up," Inlé answered, leaning back to cradle his head in his hands as he looks up to the stars.
"Woke up?" She echoed, following his gaze to the stars.
"Yes," Inlé said, "woke up. I do not usually sleep long enough to dream. This is a rarity, for me to sleep so long."
She looked back down at him sharply. "You mean you've dream-ridden here?"
"I suppose." Inlé replied. "Is it so unusual?"
The orange maiden leaned forward, hugging her knees as she thought aloud. "But if that is true ... Are you from the Science Verse, then?"
"I am."
She leaned back until her hands held her knees. "And are you aware you now ride the Magic side?"
"I am now aware, yes."
She laughed lightly. "And it does not surprise you?"
Inlé lifted his head to look at the lady beside him. "Perhaps you have heard of me. My name is Inlé Zapfino."
"I am not well versed in the names of the order-born."
"I am called the Worldwanderer," Inlé said.
Looking back up to the sky, the lady in orange said, "Ah."
Inlé returned his gaze to the sky, saying, "That name is familiar, then?"
"Vaguely," she answered. "I had heard a ... unique mortal had begun tampering in the gods' domains. I hadn't been told he was so young."
Inlé cocked his head and looked sidelong at the maiden. "A compliment?"
"Not in the least," she said. "You wouldn't receive my compliments kindly, anyway. Merely an observation."
"Fair enough," Inlé said. "May I ask your own name, then?"
The lady laughed. "It would be rude of me to not give you my name, after you have given me yours. I am one of the goddesses of this verse. Twelfth of Magic." Changing the subject, she asked, "But why do you sleep so little?"
"To avoid the dreams," Inlé answered. "They exhaust me, as they are as real as waking to me. But you have avoided my question." Even as he spoke, Inlé began to fade where he lay.
"I have, for a spell. It seems your sleep is at its end. As you said, you never sleep long," she said.
Inlé sat up, "But ..."
He was stopped by a finger placed lightly on his lips. The orange maiden had rolled over onto her knees, and knelt with her face playfully near Inlé's own fading face. "No buts," she told him. "Perhaps next time, you will hold me to my name. As for now, young Wanderer, rest assured that we ladies will watch you from ..."

Inlé woke in the same position he had fallen asleep in. For a few moments, he sat tightening and loosening his muscles, forcing sluggish muscles to move awake.
"Women," he muttered, rising.
Looking to the small window in his room, Inlé saw that sunrise was upon this world. He reached one hand into the other sleeve, and pulled a backpack out of it.
Sitting, he rifled through it, pulling out a notebook, a textbook, and a pencil. Resting the textbook on one knee and the notebook on the other, Inlé began his homework.

Exhausted, Inlé sat in class only a few hours later. He tried to rest, but his teachers kept him from falling asleep. So when lunch came, he thought he could get in a catnap. Just enough sleep to tie him over.
Sitting in a hallway near the cafeteria, Inlé leaned his head back against the wall, shut his eyes and tried to shut out the world. Despite the murmur of lunchtime conversation, he found the area quiet enough.
Suddenly, the peace was disturbed. "C'mon Jim. Where's my money? You owe me five bucks from the other day, remember?"
Looking over, Inlé saw a boy holding another against the wall. They were of similar build and appearance, but one looked mean, while the other--pinned to the wall--was pathetic. "I don't have any money right now, Brad. I can't even buy lunch right now! Please. I'll pay you later."
The rough one, Brad, smiled viciously. "Jim, don't hold out on me. I know you got some money, don't you?
"Even if it's a little change. Just fifty cents and I'll leave you alone. C'mon!"
"I don't have any money!" Jim the pitiful wailed.
Inlé rose and approached, all hope for rest gone. He walked up to the two as Brad whispered something quietly into Jim's ear.
Inlé interrupted to bluntly join the conversation, "Hey, Jim."
The two look over at Inlé in surprise--Jim scared, Brad put out. Inlé placidly said, "I need to borrow a few dollars from you."
Brad too a step back from Jim to better face Inlé. "Look pal ..." he began before being silenced by a withering gaze from poker-faced Inlé.
"Did I say something to you?" Inlé said impassively. Brad closed his mouth and kept it shut.
Turning back to Jim, Inlé asked, "Well?"
Jim, flustered, answered, "But.. I don't have any ..."
"'Don't have any?'" Inlé cut in. Then he reached into Jim's pocket, "Well, why not let me take a look for myself, then? Hello, what is this?"
Inlé pulled a small roll of money out. "I thought you said you did not have any money?"
Surprised, Jim sputtered, "I don't--didn't! I ... uh."
Opening the roll, Inlé said, "Well, you have three fives, so I will take one, and repay you later. Thank you."
Inlé turned and walked off, as Brad behind him said, "See, Jim? Now give me my five dollars and we're fine."
Jim said, "I'm sorry, here. Now please. Leave me alone."
Brad walked off brushing the comment aside. "Yeah, sure. Whatever."
Jim looked after Inlé, seeing him pass a group of four girls in similar goth-lolita dress who stood together and chattered. "Stupid guy, why would he do that?" he muttered to himself. "Never talk to anyone, then butt in to 'help' me. What a self-righteous jerk!
"Thinks he's so cool. Bet he has it so easy. Maybe he thinks I'll tell everyone, and they'll all think he's great."
Jim crushed the five in his hand and heard an unusual crumple. "Huh?"
In his hand, attached to the bill was a little orange note. On it, in a thin, fluid longhand "Hush Money: 1 of 2" was scratched.
"What the hell?" Jim muttered, and shoved the bill into the pocket Inlé had pretended to pull it from.

After school, Inlé walked out to the sports fields behind the school. Brad stepped out from behind some bleachers and waited for Inlé to approach.
"You got some balls, calling me out like this. What the hell do you want?" Brad asked gruffly.
Inlé answered, "I want you to stop pushing others around around me. It annoys me, because I want to rest, and those sorts of things ruin my sleep."
"So you butt in and threaten me?" Brad accused.
"I never threatened you," Inlé replied.
"Don't give me that shit!" Brad yelled. "Why are we here now, then? That note told me to ..."
"Meet me behind the school after classes. It was neither threat nor challenge. I just wanted to ask that you keep your childish bullying away from me. We are in high school. You could at least attempt to have some class."
"What?" Brad yelled, charging Inlé, swinging wildly.
Stepping under and inside the punch, Inlé looked Brad in the face two inches away and told him coldly, "You do not want to fight me."

Inlé sat in his room, preparing to sleep until a small glowing ball appeared in the center of his room. It floated a few feet off of the ground and, if one looked closely enough into the pale blue glow, the eyes could be tricked to see a somewhat humanoid outline.
Inlé asked, "Well, what is her message for me today? Some menial task, no doubt."
The ball responds in a squirrelly, chuckling voice, "Nay, Wanderer. Today our Queen requests a personal audience. Jack here has been sent to collect yourself."
Inlé stood unhurriedly. "Well, Jack, I suppose postponing would put the Queen into a fine fit, huh? She would most likely kill you out of frustration."
A floating ball with no visible anatomy doesn't exactly have the features to show displeasure or unease without words. Nevertheless, the jittery sphere exuded fear at the prospect Inlé had made.
Inlé reached into his sleeve and pulled out a small jar. "Not to worry. I will go. But do not think I go unprepared." He smeared a small amount of the shamrock paste over each eyelid. "Remember that I am more dangerous to you than you are to me."
The Jack bobbed up and down, as if nodding. "Aye. And well it be that yourself are. But Jack here, his Queen is mightier, much more mighty, lest yourself thinks to forget.
"And whilst yourself is remembering not for forgetting, remember too that the Fey Folk are many where the Wanderer is alone."
"As you say," Inlé agreed, returning the jar to his sleeve. "But lest you forget, that makes your target small, while anywhere I attack strikes a foe."
The Jack floated out the window, and Inlé climbed after it. They took the fire escape up to the roof, where the Jack had already opened a door to Otherworld.
The door was a tear in the sky, a six foot snag in the fabric of the sunset, revealing twilight behind. Into this, the Jack floated, and Inlé calmly followed.

Otherworld is a place always in twilight. No sun or moon hangs in the sky. Only the stars twinkle and dance across its vast expanse. Nevertheless, their light is full enough to illuminate the world below, revealing a land impassioned by life.
Grass grows more green in Otherworld, and wildflowers bloom all together. There is no right season in Otherworld, so there is also no wrong season. The trees also follow this, growing large and small, at their whim, flowering and bearing fruit as they see fit, not according to any seasonal influences. Mushrooms spring up all along any paths through the forest, as well as hanging off some of the trees to provide a seat for some and shade--or light--for others.
And all about are faeries. Most are of the smaller varieties, no larger than the squirrels and nightingales they romp about with. They come in every shape, size, color, and disposition, though, and one is as likely to dwarf a house as to be dwarfed itself.
Through this land, the Jack leads Inlé, down a small footpath that shifts behind them as soon as Inlé lifts his feet off of it. The mushrooms pull it away from his foreign footsteps, that the grasses, having leapt the path, can purify the land of his touch.
As the Jack leads, it says, "Truth, Wanderer, many in the courts fear yourself. Mortals are not welcomed in Otherworld, no no. Not welcomed at all. But the Wanderer moves almost freely. Jack here has no power to decide. Jack here has no place to think on it.
"But," it spun behind Inlé as they reached a clearing, and whispered, "those who wander into such lands as these would be wise to ponder deeply such matters as those." And with that warning, the Jack was gone.
The clearing was large and round, and glowed as if flooded by the soft light of some moon that was not in the sky. Within the clearing, a host of faerie averaging much closer to the human averages stood. They were anything but human, though.
Some were aflame, but cast no light. Others were pale mists held within grape skins. Some had wings--singly or in pairs or in larger groupings--where others had none. Horns, tusks, fins, gills, feet, hooves, hands, tails, antlers, all perhaps recognizable, even if placed in a haphazard manner.
Inlé stepped into this clearing, and immediately every eye--from spiraling black pits to more recognizable forms--fell on him. He paused a moment, taking note of every creature in attendance, then took another step into the clearing.
"Inlé, my love!" a voice laughed from behind him as a faerie leapt onto him in an embrace that wrapped both arms and legs about him. "I found you!"
"This is not," Inlé began, peeling the green woman from him, "behavior befitting you station, good Queen. Please, think of your station."
Standing just shorter than he, Queen Titania, puffed her cheeks out and pouted, "Oh, pooh and poppycock to station, Inlé. I'm the Queen, I do what I like."
She stood a moment, hands on hips, waiting for a response from Inlé. He looked down at this woman with green-stained skin, long, pale amethystine hair, and eyes a shade slightly darker than her hair. "As you say, Highness."
Satisfied for the moment, Titania turned about and strode toward a throne in the center of the clearing. Her pale, sky-blue gown flowed behind her as she adjusted her holly and moonlight crown.
Inlé followed to stand before her as she sat in her wood and unicorn horn throne. On her right stood a large unicorn, half again the size of a horse, whose horn--while still quite long--had obviously been broken numerous times. On her left stood a--relatively--small ogre. Though he stood only as tall as the throne, he was still easily more than two heads taller than Inlé, and looked to be quite wooden.
Looking bored, Titania continued, "But I did not call you all the way here to cuddle, I suppose." A smile touched her lips. "Today. Yesterday, I did you a favor, and today you must pay. I need your ... other services."
"I understand," Inlé said. "Your prices are steep, but I am bound to serve you."
She leaned forward in her seat. "Oh, don't say it like that!" she cried. "You make me sound so mean."
"I merely stated the truth," Inlé replied.
Rolling sideways in the throne, Titania pouted, "But I helped you yesterday soooo fast when you asked me to, and now you don't want to help me at all? I could cry. ..."
Inlé sighed. "Queen, I did not mean to sound reluctant. What is it you ask of me?"
Like a child, Titania's mood shifted quickly. She rolled back over into a more simple position and cheerfully said, "Apology accepted! I'm so nice!
"So, as you know, the Seelie court protects the treasures of the Tuatha dé Danann. They are the prizes left to the descendants of Eire. But Eire has lost its ability to guard them, so we have taken them here, to Otherworld.
"Well," she continued, "normally I check up on them daily. Sometimes. But it's regular.
"But the last time I checked on them, they were ... gone.
"And that's why I need you." Titania finished sulkily, "You have to get them back."
Inlé said, "Huh. Then I will do this thing for you. And my debt will be paid?"
"Paid in full," Titania sang. Then more quietly, she said, "It would also be best if you were ... quiet about this."
Inlé bowed. "Of course. Discretion will be had on the matter, as always, Queen."
"Good."
Finished, Inlé turned to leave, but Titania called after him, "Oh, one more thing!"
Turning back, Inlé saw her upside-down in the throne. "I hear you're going on a date," she sang teasingly.
Inlé asked, "Is that truly of your concern?"
"Of course it is!" she said. "I want to know everything about my Inlé. You are mine, after all.
"I need to know," she said, hugging her sides, "it eats me up when I don't know. That's why I always have someone watch you."
"You mean your spies?" Inlé asked.
"No, no," Titania shook her head vehemently as it hung off the front of the throne. "My gossipers. They just listen, but they don't pry. Just hearsay and common knowledge." She paused, then mischievously added, "And maybe a little more.
"But you're not mad, right?" she begged. "You haven't noticed before, and it's not hurt you. So it's okay, right?"
Inlé turned and began to exit the clearing. "Perhaps, Queen. Perhaps," he called over his shoulder, then finished more quietly to himself, "for now."
The Jack joined him as soon as he exited the clearing and led him back to the door, which Inlé passed through alone this time.
As soon as he was outside Otherworld, Inlé turned, licked his thumb, and ran it down the tear that functioned as a door. His thumb pulled the two sides together until the door was no more. It was late night then, and he quietly returned to his room the same way he had left from it.

Inlé found himself standing among the Goddesses of Magic again while they spun fast enough to blur together. As he stood among them, though, the world faded to blackness, and he heard three loud bangs accompanied by his mother's call of, "Inlé! Wake up! It's time for school!"

Inlé was walking through the hallway, headed for his first class. Behind him, someone was yelling, "Hey! Hey you! I'm talking to you punk!"
Inlé assumed, not recognizing the voice, that the calls were not directed at him, nor were they his business, so he simply ignored them and continued to walk on. Until a hand dropped onto his shoulder and pulled him about as the voice said, "Listen when someone tries to get your attention!"
Inlé looked up at the larger boy glaring down at him. The boy angrily grabbed Inlé by the shirtfront. "What the hell's your problem?" the large boy asked.
"I have not one," Inlé replied impassively.
The larger boy shook Inlé. "Don't give me that shit. Why the hell'd you beat up my brother?"
"Brother?" Inlé echoed. Inlé then noticed another boy standing behind the one holding him. Badly bruised, and with one arm in a sling, Inlé didn't recognize the boy. "I do not know what you are talking about."
Lifting Inlé off the ground with one arm, the larger boy spits, "What? Yesterday, you beat my brother up good after school. There isn't a mark on you, so I'm thinking you jumped him. Think hard."
So Inlé did. He thought, recounting the day as best he could, found nothing of interest, and ran the day through a second time looking at the injured boy. Still hanging, Inlé finally recognized Brad. "Ah."
Brad's brother said, "So you remember."
"Yes and no," Inlé answered. "I finally recognize the boy behind you. But I do not know how he was injured."
"What? You beat the hell out of him yesterday," Brad's brother said.
"No," Inlé replied. "I asked him not to bully other students in my presence. It annoys me. When I asked him to stop, he became angry and tried to attack me. I let him swing at me until he wore himself out."
"That is such a load of shit!" Brad's brother shouted, punching Inlé in the face. Inlé fell backwards with the blow, slamming his head into the door behind him as it was opening.
The door happened to be that of a women's restroom, and Inlé landed atop a girl who had been trying to leave it. She screamed and backpedaled as Inlé rose and turned to face his opponent unfazed. Cries of "Fight!" echoed up and down the hall, summoning a crowd that rapidly surrounded the two.
The second punch swung at Inlé was caught in one hand. Holding Brad's brother's fist, Inlé wiped a bit of blood from his mouth and coolly told him, "I rarely strike a person when not entirely necessary. Continue this, and it may become necessary."
"Then do it!" Brad's brother yelled. In the background, shouts of "Five bucks on Tony!" and "Take this guy, Tony!" could be heard as the circle grew.
Tony continued to swing wildly at Inlé as Inlé dodged around. If Inlé moved too close to the edge of the ring, hands reached out to try to push him back in, though none of them touched him.
Finally, Tony landed a blow squarely in Inlé's chest heavy enough to punch Inlé backwards into the wall beside the restroom, striking his head once more. Most of the crowd cheered.
Rising slowly, Inlé said in a voice just loud enough for Tony to hear, "Very well then. Hereafter, there shall be retaliation."
"Good," Tony responded, grinning. "I've been waiting."
But the grin didn't last long. Inlé jumped straight up, planted his feet on the wall behind him, and launched himself fists-first at Tony. Inlé hit Tony with enough force to push him backwards at the crowd, who had the sense to jump as best they could out of the combatants' way.
Tony's back hit the opposite wall hard. Inlé pinned him to it with one open palm pressed against his chest. The taller boy's feet were off the ground, and the crowd fell immediately silent.
Smooth as silk, soft as down Inlé's impassive voice said, "I am without intention to continue this bout. Whatsoever was cause of the damage upon you brother was not of my fashioning. Were he to have pestered me so much as to exact such from myself, he would very much be lifeless, presently.
"When I am to fight, I do not do so merely to wound. I do so to kill."
Inlé's palm spun into a fist holding fast Tony's shirt. "So this question I pose to you:"--He pulled Tony's face close to his own--"Do you still wish for me to fight you?"
Wide-eyed, Tony whimpered a pathetic "No" and was released by Inlé.
Inlé then turned to the crowd, saying, "What purpose have you all in remaining here? There is no spectacle for you to observe. Return whence you came."
Slowly, the crowd disbursed as Inlé continued, "All persons return to their predetermined location. Do not compel a teacher to approach, continue to your destinations. Everyone out of here now ..."
Inlé noticed the door to the women's restroom open again, and the girl Inlé had landed on stepped cautiously out. "... except you."--He pointed to her.--"If I may detain you a moment, miss."
Looking surprised and uneasy, the girl stopped and faced Inlé as the last of the crowd vanished. She was vaguely familiar to him, in the way that many of his classmates were, but he could not place a name with her half-asian face and her gothic-lolita dress.
"To you, I would apologize, miss. Though I was hardly at fault for the fiasco you just witnessed, I was involved. I pray you were not injured when I struck you?"
"No," the girl replied, thumbing the corner of her mouth. "I wasn't hurt. Just scared. I don't much care for school fights. I don't want to get in trouble."
Inlé nodded. "I sympathize with such sentiments. I also find occurrences of this sort distasteful. It is all quite pointlessly sophomoric.
"If you are hale, then once more I apologize, and bid you adieu." He turned and began down the hall. "Please return to your routine proceedings."
Still looking confused and upset, the girl muttered, "Huh. Right. Okay."

Inlé sat in the back of his classroom, watching the teacher give his lecture. The man, dressed in professional but not overly well kempt grey business casual, walked the aisles of desks, passing--Inlé recognized for the first time--Brad, Jim, and the girl Inlé had spoken to only minutes before.
Stopping mid-sentence beside Inlé's desk, the teacher frowned slightly down at Inlé.
"Inlé," he nonchalantly said, "you seem to be bleeding. In a few areas." Indeed, Inlé had a small amount of blood running down the back of his neck, and a small amount out of the corner of his mouth. He had not thought to clean them away.
"Are you well enough to be in this class right now?" his teacher asked.
Inlé answered, "I am well, sir. I apologize, I did not notice that I was hemorrhaged. If I may, I would prefer to remain here."
"All right," his teacher answered. "Fell down some stairs, I'm sure." He turned to walk away.
"But," he continued, "have the nurse check on you later, your speech is off today. You're more ... formal than usual."
And the lecture continued as though there had been no interruption at all, from the middle of the sentence that had been cut short.

Clean of blood and having mended a sleight concussion, Inlé sat cross-legged in the center of his room, leaning over a map of the earth. He held a pendulum consisting of a runed iolite dangling on a silver chain from a runed moss agate over the map.
In a commanding tone, Inlé said, "Inveni. Tuatha dé Danann. Deprehende."
He sighed as he saw the iolite spin wildly over the map.
A second time, Inlé commanded, "Inveni. Coire Ansic. Deprehende."
This time, the iolite swung straight to a point over northern New York. Inlé looked intently at the map for a moment, then reached up his sleeve and pulled his silver bracelet from his wrist.
He stretched the band and stepped into the sky it revealed. Catching himself at the edge of an identical band on the other side, Inlé spun to kneel beside the portal and pulled the band he had jumped into out of the one he had exited. He then shrunk the band in his hand down to bracelet size again. This caused the other band lying at his feet to shrink to the same size. The portal was closed, and Inlé returned his bracelet to his wrist.
Getting his bearing, Inlé found himself atop a school building. He turned to face south east, jumped down from the third floor roof, and began to walk.

Arriving in a wooded area nearly an hour later, Inlé slowed his walk, glancing about cautiously. After another short walk, he came to the shore of a small pond, where he stood for several minutes.
"You may as well come out." he said suddenly. "I am aware that you are here."
"So," a sultry, watery voice gurgled, "a hunter, are you?"
"I am not," Inlé answered.
"Then," the voice said, "you should not be looking for me."
"I am not," Inlé answered. "Lady, I mean you no harm, nor did I have any plans to seek you out. I am here for a pot you may recently have acquired."
"A pot?" the voice echoed.
"Yes, namely one Coire Ansic."
"Is that what that bothersome blurker gave me? How amusing," it bubbled.
"A blurker?" Inlé repeated. "A blurker stole a piece of the Tuatha dé Danann? Is that what you are saying?"
"I merely state," the voice replied, "that if what I have is Coire Ansic, then it was delivered to me by a blurker. Nothing more.
"My, you're a handsome one."
"I see," Inlé said. "Well, what must I do to recover this item from you?"
"Hmm," the voice mused. "Nothing given, nothing gained, as the saying goes. And if you wish not to fight me for it, I can think of more ... refined ways you can pay me for this ... pot, did you call it?
"You've a cheeky mouth for one so young. I like that."
"Do you?" Inlé asked. "Well and good, but what do you wish for me to give?"
The voice was silent for a moment, then said, "Give me three days to think this over. On the third night, come to me after sunset.
"The sun does not sit well with me under it, you see. I am far too beautiful to be caught under her glare."
Inlé turned to leave, saying as he left, "As you say, Lady."
He walked into the woods a short distance, then pulled a silver ring from his pocket. This he split into two rings, one in each hand. One he place onto the side of a nearby tree, the other he twisted about his bracelet, forcing them into one piece. He then stepped through his bracelet and back out onto the roof of his apartment building.
*****
Whiteness. What's this? Where am I? My eyes open, blurry. A dark ceiling I do not know. A hand--my hand?--rises to my face. It seems foreign to me as I ponder it. What's this? What happened?
Without command, my body rises. Standing, I am surprised to find my balance so precise. I am walked, as though in a dream, toward a floor mirror and am forced to look in. What is this?
The person who I face is not me. This female of average height and build who stands before me does not resemble me in the least. No, no, no. This isn't right at all. Not at all.
I must fix this.
The nightshift changes into an overlarge orange hoodie as the bra beneath becomes a baggy black tee-shirt. Underwear becomes large shorts. My face--but not my face--looks surprised for some reason. It remains that way as it begins to change. My body grows half a foot as I fill the clothing I wear. Shoulders broaden, skin tans, face squares off. Once more I am the man I should be. But my satisfaction is short-lived.
Panic and confusion wash over me in waves from within and without my mind. Another series of thoughts washes through me. What's going on? What kind of dream is this? Why do I look like him?
These are the thoughts of the female form. Am I the invader, then? I wonder. I pause to ponder for a moment. But ... Who am I?
I release my hold, and the body I recognize fragments and slips back under the surface of this girl as she rubs her eyes. She looks back into the mirror and the panic subsides. Must just be the light or something, I hear. Right. The light can cause that much of a change. I wonder if she also hears me inside of her, but she does not respond.
I contemplate my situation as she relieves herself and gets a drink. What am I? How did I get here? I found I could observe the surface thoughts and general sensory data of my host without actually stretching outside of my residence. But that is not enough. I have to understand who I am.
I leave her lying in her bed. Not truly, but approaching the soulscape as I feel it. The soulscape that should be mine. Immediately, I find it. It is exactly as I remember it, and I begin to walk through it. But this is not my place. I feel the foreignness of my being here and wonder at it. There must be another host of this plane, then. I wander aimlessly in the black void, waiting to find its master.
Time has no meaning in a place like this, nor distance. Perspective is less than relative, and hardly follows the rules of the 'normal' reality. In a place like this, the nothingness that surrounds me is as solid as stone, as intangible as air. There is no light, but I know there is also nothing to see, because despite the lack, I see myself entirely. I am not surprised, then, to come upon my host suddenly.
As soon as I see him, I recognize the boy. I recognize the clothing, the hair, the posture. The subtle smell of fire and ice that he gives off, though I'm sure I'd never noticed it until I reached him in this void.
"Ah," I call to my host. "There you are."
He turns and faces me, and I hear my own cold, lifeless voice return with that same question I have been asking since I had woken in the girl.
"Who are you?"
*****
Inlé stood in blackness, waiting. For what, he was not sure.
A second Inlé, hands in pockets, walked up behind the first and said, "Ah. There you are."
Turning, Inlé inspected the character before him. "Who are you?"
The character before him began to grin wryly at Inlé's stoic face. "Yes," the second Inlé said. "Who ... am ... I?" It crossed its arms. "I look like you."
"You do," Inlé agreed.
Gesturing with one hand, it continued, "I sound like you."
"You do," Inlé agreed.
The second Inlé rested its chin in its palm. "Then ... am I you?"
"You are not," Inlé answered.
The other Inlé let out a single quick laugh. "Are you sure?" it asked and began to fade, laughing, into the blackness.

Inlé was in class again. His teacher came up behind him and said, "Ah, Inlé. Are you well today, then?"
"I am, sir," Inlé answered. "Thank you for your concern."
"Ah," his teacher said. "And his speech has corrected itself. I was worried at first," he continued as he walked off. "Thought you might have had a concussion."

At lunch, Inlé sat alone again, once more trying to rest. People occasionally walked by, taking no notice of the boy slumped against the wall, as usual. This was how Inlé preferred his lunches, how he preferred his entire school day, when he could have it so. But such uneventful days seemed to be growing increasingly rare.
"Hey," a voice called down to Inlé. A boy with a plate of food stood above him.
"Yes?" Inlé asked blandly.
"Mind if I join you?" the boy said, sitting even as he asked, and beginning to eat his sandwich. There were a few minutes of silence as the boy in front of Inlé ate while Inlé processed the change of circumstances.
"What is it you want?" Inlé asked finally.
Put out, the boy beside him said, "Jeez, I just wanted someplace to eat."
"Then why ask to join me?" Inlé asked.
The boy sighed. "You were here first. It's only right to acknowledge those who come before you, right?"
"You are quoting something about people who have died before you." Inlé said. "I happen to have remained alive for most of my life."
"Most of it?" The boy looked at Inlé puzzled, then burst into rambunctious laughter. "Ha ha! Most of your ha! life! Ha! You're a funny guy, you know that?"
The boy laughed again, then calmed, a hint of laughter still in his eyes. "Look," he began again when calm, "I wanted to thank you for helping me the other day."
"Huh?" Inlé said.
"Remember," the boy asked, "the thing with Brad about the money? I heard you even got in a couple of fights because of it."
Inlé thought hard for a moment, then remembered. "Oh. That. Now I remember." He began rustling into his pocket.
The boy--Jim, on recollection--was surprised. "'Now you remember'? You forgot? Jeez, way to help people out for nothing."
"It is not as though you are the only one with whom I interact," Inlé replied, pulling out another five dollar bill from his pocket. This he offered to Jim, "Here, the other half of the money, as promised."
"Come on, man!" Jim cried. "You think I want your money? You helped me out. Let's not get the roles mixed up, I'm the one who owes you."
Still holding out the money, Inlé answered, "You owe me nothing. I acted as I did for my own reasons. You were of little concern to me. Your loud friend was the problem."
"That's cold, man," Jim said. He paused for a moment, thinking. "So you really beat the crap out of him?"
"No," Inlé replied. "I did nothing to him, though I may have injured his brother. Take the money and tell no one about what happened."
Reluctantly taking the money, Jim said, "Fine and fine. But you may want to be careful. Brad's brother Tony is a super-senior on the football team. He was hospitalized towards the end of the school year and wound up failing because of it, but he's still one of the toughest guys on the team." Jim bit into his sandwich and began talking around a mouthful of ham and cheese, "You just made, like, thirty enemies in a five minute fight. I wouldn't be surprised if they jumped you to beat the crap out of you."
Inlé stood. Standing over the surprised Jim, Inlé said, "Let them come. I have faced worse than thirty school boys. Thank you for the information, though helping me further would likely get you mixed into this. From here on, do not get involved." He turned and walked off, leaving Jim to finish his meal alone.
Around the corner, he almost ran into the girl he'd spoken with after the problem the day before with three of her friends--all, he realized, classmates--whose names were beyond his grasp.
The four all wore nearly identical gothic-lolita garb: black leggings, dark grey skirts, and white blouses, all with an abundance of lacy frills. Beside the half-asian girl stood a very short girl with mussy, short, sand colored hair and a tall girl with cocoa skin and hair the brightest, most artificial red imaginable. The fourth girl was a blonde with fluorescent streaks of pink, purple, and blue shot through it at random.
"Young miss," Inlé said. "I apologize again for yesterday."
The other three ignored him completely, talking heatedly amongst themselves, but the girl addressed replied with a nod and a nervous smile as he walked by. She stared after him with a complex look on her face as he walked off.

With lunch not half over, Inlé's feet lead him to the school library. Unable to sleep, he found a large book and turned idly through it. Stopping at an interesting section, Inlé got lost in the page he was reading, and did not notice his teacher coming up behind him. He only noticed him, in fact, when he sat down and addressed him.
"Ah, Inlé," his teacher said. "What are you up to?"
"Nothing, sir," Inlé answered. "Just reading between classes."
"Still," his teacher said with a glance at the large volume on Inlé's lap, "that's quite a book to read to relax. 'Celtic Myth, Fairies, and Irish Artifacts'? Not a light read, let me tell you."
Inlé looked up, interested that his teacher--Mr. Selina, was it?--could recognize the book from its open pages. "You have read this?" he asked.
Mr. Selina reached into his suit-coat pocket, and pulled out a cigarette. "Cryptohoplology is one of my hobbies. So, while I care little for fairies, some of their toys fascinate me. That book talks about a lot of them, you see," he continued, putting the cigarette into his mouth and rifling around his other pockets. "Elf stones, fairy rings, raths, fairy eyes, even a little on the treasures of the Tuatha dé Danann.
"Not in detail, though. Just glazing them over. That's basically a bunch of stories about fairies and some specific information on some of the more famous fairies, like Puck, Oberon, and Titania."
He found the lighter and pulled it out. "Really," he continued, flicking at the lighter, "it's a shame."
"Sir?" Inlé interrupted.
Looking over, unlit cigarette hanging loosely, and lighter finally lit, Mr. Selina answered, "Yes, Inlé?"
"Smoking is not permitted within the school building, sir."
"Ah!" Mr. Selina exclaimed, snapping the lighter shut and returning it to his pocket. The cigarette, though, remained. "You're right, I forgot. Sorry, I got a bit carried away. I really do love this stuff."
Inlé closed the book on his lap. "So it would seem, sir."
A wistful look crossed Mr. Selina's face as he continued, "I used to dream about finding some of these ancient artifacts no one believes in. I'd show them to everyone and say 'See? There's some truth to these old stories.'"
He sighed. "Then I realized that even showing them off wouldn't prove it to anyone. They'd figure it was all a hoax, like the bigfoot footage and other things like that."
"And do you still wish to find them?" Inlé asked.
"Of course," Mr. Selina answered without hesitation. "But then, now I'm 'grown up' and have to act that way. So I teach History, Mythology, and various languages."
"I see," Inlé said.
Mr. Selina looked down at Inlé with a wry smile. He said, "Of course, I wonder sometimes if you know which class I teach you."
"History, of course, sir." Inlé answered immediately, which seemed to surprise Mr. Selina, whose look of pleasant curiosity was quite apparent.
"I swear, Inlé, you never cease to amaze me," he said.
"What do you mean, sir?" Inlé asked. Just then the class bell rang, announcing the end of lunch.
Mr. Selina stood and, ignoring Inlé's question, said, "Well, there's the bell. You'd best get to your next class. I'll see you in class tomorrow."
Inlé stood. "Yes, sir."
Inlé moved to return the book he held, as Mr. Selina walked toward the exit. Just before they were outside of courteous earshot, Mr. Selina called back, "And maybe later you can tell me who taught you gaelic."
A spark flashed across Inlé's eyes, the only evidence of surprise as he placed the book carefully onto the shelf where it belonged.

Inlé sat in his room, notepad on one knee, book on the other. The book had been opened to reveal the poem 'Lost' by David Wagoner, which Inlé was pondering. He began to write.
'There is nowhere in this world where you truly belong, unless you are accepted by that place. 'Here' is a world unto itself, and only 'here' may you yourself exist. The world around you knows you whether or not you try to know it.
'Breathe the air around you. Listen to its whispers. Watch its beauty as it carries the world. Feel it lift your very spirit, and taste the joys it leaves behind. Perception is the key to know 'here' as it knows you.
'Birds fly, fish swim, and snakes crawl. Trees dance and sing. Know their dances so that when they grow, you still know them. Learn how they move together so you may find them the next time you wish to hear their dance.
'And when you are lost in your life, 'here' will you return, that 'here' may comfort you with its warmth and soothe you with its gentleness. Bask in the sunlight and dance in the rain, smile with the sorrows and laugh through the pain. Remember 'here' will find you and mend your heart again.'
As he wrote, the fatigue of the day washed over him, and sleep defeated his resolve and pulled him into its cool embrace.

Inlé found himself again surrounded in blackness. He had expected it this time, and waited patiently until the second Inlé faded into existence in front of him, the perfect mirror of Inlé.
"You were right," it began. "I am not you."
"So I said," Inlé replied. "My question stands: what are you?"
The second rolled slowly backward into a headstand. Now looking up at Inlé, arms crossed and perfectly vertical, it said, "I saw you today."
"Did you?" the first asked, impassive and unmoving.
The second rolled to its stomach, then pulled its feet up behind it and planted them on the top of its head. "You need to loosen up. Be more flexible. Be friendly."
"Not my style," Inlé answered. "Where did you see me?"
The second spun sideways into a bridge, with its arms still crossed at its chest. "But then, you do have a lot on your plate right now. What with having to find the Tuatha dé Danann and all."
Inlé paused for a long moment before asking emotionlessly, "How is it that you know such things?"
The second Inlé rose from its bridge without moving its arms and turned to face the first. "I told you, Inlé," he grinned. "I am you."
"You are not," Inlé said.
"Exactly. I am you, but," it laughed, "I am not you. So then, tell me: who am I?"
"Just a copy," Inlé answered. "A cheap imitation."
The second turned and began to walk away. "Copy, hmm?" it called back over its shoulder. "Perhaps. But one day I will be you. And you will be gone. Permanently. Count on it, Original."
The copy began to rapidly disassemble as it moved away, falling into a whirling mass of colored flower petals that swirled back at the original and rushed past him. In the rustle of the wind, the original heard a voice so much like his own cackle and roar, "Count on it, Inlé!"

Inlé woke, still seated with the notepad on one knee, the book on the other. He stood and stretched, checking out the window to determine the time. Noting that morning was yet hours away, Inlé returned to his seat and replaced the notepad on his lap. He reached into his sleeve and pulled out another textbook.
As he placed this new book on his knee, a small note fell out of it. Inlé opened the note to see his own flowing penmanship scratched onto the note as if he had written the note by guiding another's hand. It said boldly, See you in your dreams ...
Inlé pondered over the note for a few minutes, then rose and slid into his corner to sleep. He continued to look at the note as he began to doze.

Description
Inlé found himself standing in a field of waist-high grass peppered with wildflowers. About him stood a circle of twelve strangely dressed maidens, and upon the brow of each maiden rested a small thin circlet to hold their long, black hair to their heads. Every circlet and sleeveless silk gown was individual to each woman, so that no two were the same.
Inlé did a quick clockwise circle to see each woman. The first wore a black gown and a silver circlet set with an onyx over her forehead. The second, a white gown and a gold circlet inset with a pearl. Next was a red gown, a golden band, and a ruby. Then a yellow band and a golden band with a citrine. The wearer of the blue dress had a golden circlet with a sapphire, while the green gown was paired with a silver circlet and an alexandrite. A purple dress was complimented by an amethyst in a silver circlet, and the orange dress's silver circlet held a jacinth. A jasper-set gold band paired with a brown gown, while an opal in silver rested above a grey one. The last two maidens wore their dresses--one of silver and one of gold--with unadorned circlets of the same material.
Their hands lifted to join one with another, and they began to spin clockwise around him. Together they called, "Join us, good wanderer. The dance will ease your weariness and soothe your heart."
Inlé placed his fist over his heart, bowing slightly. Rising straight again, he left his fist over his heart as he answered, "Nay, fair ladies, I may not. I am here but to observe your dance, and to applaud your grace. Were my untrained feet to join you, they would bring ruin to the dance's beauty and shame upon myself.
"Pray, let me, this mere mortal, look on your fairness and think myself blessed whilst I rest."
They women chorused, "Very well. but if you are able to stay to the end of our dancing, please join us afterwards to meal."
Inlé bowed slightly again as he replied, "Mayhaps I will, good ladies. But I cannot promise anything. A mortal man has precious little time to live, and I wish to use mine to its fullest effect."
The dance began to accelerate. "Very well," they said. The women spun about faster and faster until they began to blur together.
Inlé stood within the multicolored ring, watching as the pale faces whipped past, watching as they smiled and laughed with their eyes. His own face was still emotionless, but his stance was more relaxed as he let his fist lower and unclench at his side.
The sun climbed across the sky, approached the horizon, then sank below it, leaving the world to the dark of night. Still the maidens spun about their lone observer. Night crawled on until the twilight before dawn, and then the circle began to slow.
The maidens slowed until their forms were once more individual. After a time, the circle stopped completely, and their hands released each other. Twelve smiling faces were turned in toward Inlé.
"Now," they chorused. "You said you would join us for a meal. Come, it is not far."
Inlé bowed more reverently, "As you wish, fair ladies."
He followed behind as the tireless maidens capered ahead and about him, leading him to a low hillock, atop which was a small campsite with a fire and a feast laid out in wait.
Spits of pheasant, rabbit, and fish were staked about the fire, their odors wafting temptingly down to the approaching party. Wooden bowls of fresh fruits and crisp salads were placed between platters of breads and cheeses. Clay pitchers and jugs of drink also lay interspersed about the meal. A ring of colorful mats lay among the food, proving seats for each person in the party. Upon each mat sat a wooden plate, a clay mug, a two tined fork, and a sharp knife.
The maidens scattered to their seats, and Inlé found a place prepared also for himself, where he sat and ate with the maidens. The women sang gaily as spits, platters, bowls, pitchers and jugs were passed cheerily about. No notice was paid to spilt drink, and fallen food was quickly scooped up and placed upon a plate, or thrown to the flames. The women feasted and sang, rejoicing in the beauty around them.
Inlé himself ate quietly, taking what was offered him and passing what was asked. But his eyes held a glint of merriment unusual in his stony face, belying his normal stoicism.

After the feast, Inlé sat on the hillside. Shooed from the tidying after the meal, he sat to digest.
The maiden in orange leaned over from behind Inlé, her dark hair cascading into his lap as she rested her hands lightly on his shoulders. In a tinkling voice, she asked, "Would it displease, my detaining you brief moments further, that we might discuss at length your attendance this night?"
Inlé blinked once at the upside-down eyes inches from his own, and replied, "Nay, Lady. An honor beyond myself, it would be. I am beholden to suit such pleas."
"Just so," she said, moving lightly to sit beside him. "Would it displease, our release of formalities?"
"Nay, Lady. Worthy, I am not. But if so you pray, so shall I rescind."
She smiled. "Good. Formalities always wear on me. Though you are a surprise, boy."
"Am I?" Inlé asked.
"Three nights," the lady in orange continued, "you have appeared to us just before the dance, and this is the first time you've stayed?
"Unusual, to say the least. How did you remove yourself so quickly the last two times?"
"I woke up," Inlé answered, leaning back to cradle his head in his hands as he looks up to the stars.
"Woke up?" She echoed, following his gaze to the stars.
"Yes," Inlé said, "woke up. I do not usually sleep long enough to dream. This is a rarity, for me to sleep so long."
She looked back down at him sharply. "You mean you've dream-ridden here?"
"I suppose." Inlé replied. "Is it so unusual?"
The orange maiden leaned forward, hugging her knees as she thought aloud. "But if that is true ... Are you from the Science Verse, then?"
"I am."
She leaned back until her hands held her knees. "And are you aware you now ride the Magic side?"
"I am now aware, yes."
She laughed lightly. "And it does not surprise you?"
Inlé lifted his head to look at the lady beside him. "Perhaps you have heard of me. My name is Inlé Zapfino."
"I am not well versed in the names of the order-born."
"I am called the Worldwanderer," Inlé said.
Looking back up to the sky, the lady in orange said, "Ah."
Inlé returned his gaze to the sky, saying, "That name is familiar, then?"
"Vaguely," she answered. "I had heard a ... unique mortal had begun tampering in the gods' domains. I hadn't been told he was so young."
Inlé cocked his head and looked sidelong at the maiden. "A compliment?"
"Not in the least," she said. "You wouldn't receive my compliments kindly, anyway. Merely an observation."
"Fair enough," Inlé said. "May I ask your own name, then?"
The lady laughed. "It would be rude of me to not give you my name, after you have given me yours. I am one of the goddesses of this verse. Twelfth of Magic." Changing the subject, she asked, "But why do you sleep so little?"
"To avoid the dreams," Inlé answered. "They exhaust me, as they are as real as waking to me. But you have avoided my question." Even as he spoke, Inlé began to fade where he lay.
"I have, for a spell. It seems your sleep is at its end. As you said, you never sleep long," she said.
Inlé sat up, "But ..."
He was stopped by a finger placed lightly on his lips. The orange maiden had rolled over onto her knees, and knelt with her face playfully near Inlé's own fading face. "No buts," she told him. "Perhaps next time, you will hold me to my name. As for now, young Wanderer, rest assured that we ladies will watch you from ..."

Inlé woke in the same position he had fallen asleep in. For a few moments, he sat tightening and loosening his muscles, forcing sluggish muscles to move awake.
"Women," he muttered, rising.
Looking to the small window in his room, Inlé saw that sunrise was upon this world. He reached one hand into the other sleeve, and pulled a backpack out of it.
Sitting, he rifled through it, pulling out a notebook, a textbook, and a pencil. Resting the textbook on one knee and the notebook on the other, Inlé began his homework.

Exhausted, Inlé sat in class only a few hours later. He tried to rest, but his teachers kept him from falling asleep. So when lunch came, he thought he could get in a catnap. Just enough sleep to tie him over.
Sitting in a hallway near the cafeteria, Inlé leaned his head back against the wall, shut his eyes and tried to shut out the world. Despite the murmur of lunchtime conversation, he found the area quiet enough.
Suddenly, the peace was disturbed. "C'mon Jim. Where's my money? You owe me five bucks from the other day, remember?"
Looking over, Inlé saw a boy holding another against the wall. They were of similar build and appearance, but one looked mean, while the other--pinned to the wall--was pathetic. "I don't have any money right now, Brad. I can't even buy lunch right now! Please. I'll pay you later."
The rough one, Brad, smiled viciously. "Jim, don't hold out on me. I know you got some money, don't you?
"Even if it's a little change. Just fifty cents and I'll leave you alone. C'mon!"
"I don't have any money!" Jim the pitiful wailed.
Inlé rose and approached, all hope for rest gone. He walked up to the two as Brad whispered something quietly into Jim's ear.
Inlé interrupted to bluntly join the conversation, "Hey, Jim."
The two look over at Inlé in surprise--Jim scared, Brad put out. Inlé placidly said, "I need to borrow a few dollars from you."
Brad too a step back from Jim to better face Inlé. "Look pal ..." he began before being silenced by a withering gaze from poker-faced Inlé.
"Did I say something to you?" Inlé said impassively. Brad closed his mouth and kept it shut.
Turning back to Jim, Inlé asked, "Well?"
Jim, flustered, answered, "But.. I don't have any ..."
"'Don't have any?'" Inlé cut in. Then he reached into Jim's pocket, "Well, why not let me take a look for myself, then? Hello, what is this?"
Inlé pulled a small roll of money out. "I thought you said you did not have any money?"
Surprised, Jim sputtered, "I don't--didn't! I ... uh."
Opening the roll, Inlé said, "Well, you have three fives, so I will take one, and repay you later. Thank you."
Inlé turned and walked off, as Brad behind him said, "See, Jim? Now give me my five dollars and we're fine."
Jim said, "I'm sorry, here. Now please. Leave me alone."
Brad walked off brushing the comment aside. "Yeah, sure. Whatever."
Jim looked after Inlé, seeing him pass a group of four girls in similar goth-lolita dress who stood together and chattered. "Stupid guy, why would he do that?" he muttered to himself. "Never talk to anyone, then butt in to 'help' me. What a self-righteous jerk!
"Thinks he's so cool. Bet he has it so easy. Maybe he thinks I'll tell everyone, and they'll all think he's great."
Jim crushed the five in his hand and heard an unusual crumple. "Huh?"
In his hand, attached to the bill was a little orange note. On it, in a thin, fluid longhand "Hush Money: 1 of 2" was scratched.
"What the hell?" Jim muttered, and shoved the bill into the pocket Inlé had pretended to pull it from.

After school, Inlé walked out to the sports fields behind the school. Brad stepped out from behind some bleachers and waited for Inlé to approach.
"You got some balls, calling me out like this. What the hell do you want?" Brad asked gruffly.
Inlé answered, "I want you to stop pushing others around around me. It annoys me, because I want to rest, and those sorts of things ruin my sleep."
"So you butt in and threaten me?" Brad accused.
"I never threatened you," Inlé replied.
"Don't give me that shit!" Brad yelled. "Why are we here now, then? That note told me to ..."
"Meet me behind the school after classes. It was neither threat nor challenge. I just wanted to ask that you keep your childish bullying away from me. We are in high school. You could at least attempt to have some class."
"What?" Brad yelled, charging Inlé, swinging wildly.
Stepping under and inside the punch, Inlé looked Brad in the face two inches away and told him coldly, "You do not want to fight me."

Inlé sat in his room, preparing to sleep until a small glowing ball appeared in the center of his room. It floated a few feet off of the ground and, if one looked closely enough into the pale blue glow, the eyes could be tricked to see a somewhat humanoid outline.
Inlé asked, "Well, what is her message for me today? Some menial task, no doubt."
The ball responds in a squirrelly, chuckling voice, "Nay, Wanderer. Today our Queen requests a personal audience. Jack here has been sent to collect yourself."
Inlé stood unhurriedly. "Well, Jack, I suppose postponing would put the Queen into a fine fit, huh? She would most likely kill you out of frustration."
A floating ball with no visible anatomy doesn't exactly have the features to show displeasure or unease without words. Nevertheless, the jittery sphere exuded fear at the prospect Inlé had made.
Inlé reached into his sleeve and pulled out a small jar. "Not to worry. I will go. But do not think I go unprepared." He smeared a small amount of the shamrock paste over each eyelid. "Remember that I am more dangerous to you than you are to me."
The Jack bobbed up and down, as if nodding. "Aye. And well it be that yourself are. But Jack here, his Queen is mightier, much more mighty, lest yourself thinks to forget.
"And whilst yourself is remembering not for forgetting, remember too that the Fey Folk are many where the Wanderer is alone."
"As you say," Inlé agreed, returning the jar to his sleeve. "But lest you forget, that makes your target small, while anywhere I attack strikes a foe."
The Jack floated out the window, and Inlé climbed after it. They took the fire escape up to the roof, where the Jack had already opened a door to Otherworld.
The door was a tear in the sky, a six foot snag in the fabric of the sunset, revealing twilight behind. Into this, the Jack floated, and Inlé calmly followed.

Otherworld is a place always in twilight. No sun or moon hangs in the sky. Only the stars twinkle and dance across its vast expanse. Nevertheless, their light is full enough to illuminate the world below, revealing a land impassioned by life.
Grass grows more green in Otherworld, and wildflowers bloom all together. There is no right season in Otherworld, so there is also no wrong season. The trees also follow this, growing large and small, at their whim, flowering and bearing fruit as they see fit, not according to any seasonal influences. Mushrooms spring up all along any paths through the forest, as well as hanging off some of the trees to provide a seat for some and shade--or light--for others.
And all about are faeries. Most are of the smaller varieties, no larger than the squirrels and nightingales they romp about with. They come in every shape, size, color, and disposition, though, and one is as likely to dwarf a house as to be dwarfed itself.
Through this land, the Jack leads Inlé, down a small footpath that shifts behind them as soon as Inlé lifts his feet off of it. The mushrooms pull it away from his foreign footsteps, that the grasses, having leapt the path, can purify the land of his touch.
As the Jack leads, it says, "Truth, Wanderer, many in the courts fear yourself. Mortals are not welcomed in Otherworld, no no. Not welcomed at all. But the Wanderer moves almost freely. Jack here has no power to decide. Jack here has no place to think on it.
"But," it spun behind Inlé as they reached a clearing, and whispered, "those who wander into such lands as these would be wise to ponder deeply such matters as those." And with that warning, the Jack was gone.
The clearing was large and round, and glowed as if flooded by the soft light of some moon that was not in the sky. Within the clearing, a host of faerie averaging much closer to the human averages stood. They were anything but human, though.
Some were aflame, but cast no light. Others were pale mists held within grape skins. Some had wings--singly or in pairs or in larger groupings--where others had none. Horns, tusks, fins, gills, feet, hooves, hands, tails, antlers, all perhaps recognizable, even if placed in a haphazard manner.
Inlé stepped into this clearing, and immediately every eye--from spiraling black pits to more recognizable forms--fell on him. He paused a moment, taking note of every creature in attendance, then took another step into the clearing.
"Inlé, my love!" a voice laughed from behind him as a faerie leapt onto him in an embrace that wrapped both arms and legs about him. "I found you!"
"This is not," Inlé began, peeling the green woman from him, "behavior befitting you station, good Queen. Please, think of your station."
Standing just shorter than he, Queen Titania, puffed her cheeks out and pouted, "Oh, pooh and poppycock to station, Inlé. I'm the Queen, I do what I like."
She stood a moment, hands on hips, waiting for a response from Inlé. He looked down at this woman with green-stained skin, long, pale amethystine hair, and eyes a shade slightly darker than her hair. "As you say, Highness."
Satisfied for the moment, Titania turned about and strode toward a throne in the center of the clearing. Her pale, sky-blue gown flowed behind her as she adjusted her holly and moonlight crown.
Inlé followed to stand before her as she sat in her wood and unicorn horn throne. On her right stood a large unicorn, half again the size of a horse, whose horn--while still quite long--had obviously been broken numerous times. On her left stood a--relatively--small ogre. Though he stood only as tall as the throne, he was still easily more than two heads taller than Inlé, and looked to be quite wooden.
Looking bored, Titania continued, "But I did not call you all the way here to cuddle, I suppose." A smile touched her lips. "Today. Yesterday, I did you a favor, and today you must pay. I need your ... other services."
"I understand," Inlé said. "Your prices are steep, but I am bound to serve you."
She leaned forward in her seat. "Oh, don't say it like that!" she cried. "You make me sound so mean."
"I merely stated the truth," Inlé replied.
Rolling sideways in the throne, Titania pouted, "But I helped you yesterday soooo fast when you asked me to, and now you don't want to help me at all? I could cry. ..."
Inlé sighed. "Queen, I did not mean to sound reluctant. What is it you ask of me?"
Like a child, Titania's mood shifted quickly. She rolled back over into a more simple position and cheerfully said, "Apology accepted! I'm so nice!
"So, as you know, the Seelie court protects the treasures of the Tuatha dé Danann. They are the prizes left to the descendants of Eire. But Eire has lost its ability to guard them, so we have taken them here, to Otherworld.
"Well," she continued, "normally I check up on them daily. Sometimes. But it's regular.
"But the last time I checked on them, they were ... gone.
"And that's why I need you." Titania finished sulkily, "You have to get them back."
Inlé said, "Huh. Then I will do this thing for you. And my debt will be paid?"
"Paid in full," Titania sang. Then more quietly, she said, "It would also be best if you were ... quiet about this."
Inlé bowed. "Of course. Discretion will be had on the matter, as always, Queen."
"Good."
Finished, Inlé turned to leave, but Titania called after him, "Oh, one more thing!"
Turning back, Inlé saw her upside-down in the throne. "I hear you're going on a date," she sang teasingly.
Inlé asked, "Is that truly of your concern?"
"Of course it is!" she said. "I want to know everything about my Inlé. You are mine, after all.
"I need to know," she said, hugging her sides, "it eats me up when I don't know. That's why I always have someone watch you."
"You mean your spies?" Inlé asked.
"No, no," Titania shook her head vehemently as it hung off the front of the throne. "My gossipers. They just listen, but they don't pry. Just hearsay and common knowledge." She paused, then mischievously added, "And maybe a little more.
"But you're not mad, right?" she begged. "You haven't noticed before, and it's not hurt you. So it's okay, right?"
Inlé turned and began to exit the clearing. "Perhaps, Queen. Perhaps," he called over his shoulder, then finished more quietly to himself, "for now."
The Jack joined him as soon as he exited the clearing and led him back to the door, which Inlé passed through alone this time.
As soon as he was outside Otherworld, Inlé turned, licked his thumb, and ran it down the tear that functioned as a door. His thumb pulled the two sides together until the door was no more. It was late night then, and he quietly returned to his room the same way he had left from it.

Inlé found himself standing among the Goddesses of Magic again while they spun fast enough to blur together. As he stood among them, though, the world faded to blackness, and he heard three loud bangs accompanied by his mother's call of, "Inlé! Wake up! It's time for school!"

Inlé was walking through the hallway, headed for his first class. Behind him, someone was yelling, "Hey! Hey you! I'm talking to you punk!"
Inlé assumed, not recognizing the voice, that the calls were not directed at him, nor were they his business, so he simply ignored them and continued to walk on. Until a hand dropped onto his shoulder and pulled him about as the voice said, "Listen when someone tries to get your attention!"
Inlé looked up at the larger boy glaring down at him. The boy angrily grabbed Inlé by the shirtfront. "What the hell's your problem?" the large boy asked.
"I have not one," Inlé replied impassively.
The larger boy shook Inlé. "Don't give me that shit. Why the hell'd you beat up my brother?"
"Brother?" Inlé echoed. Inlé then noticed another boy standing behind the one holding him. Badly bruised, and with one arm in a sling, Inlé didn't recognize the boy. "I do not know what you are talking about."
Lifting Inlé off the ground with one arm, the larger boy spits, "What? Yesterday, you beat my brother up good after school. There isn't a mark on you, so I'm thinking you jumped him. Think hard."
So Inlé did. He thought, recounting the day as best he could, found nothing of interest, and ran the day through a second time looking at the injured boy. Still hanging, Inlé finally recognized Brad. "Ah."
Brad's brother said, "So you remember."
"Yes and no," Inlé answered. "I finally recognize the boy behind you. But I do not know how he was injured."
"What? You beat the hell out of him yesterday," Brad's brother said.
"No," Inlé replied. "I asked him not to bully other students in my presence. It annoys me. When I asked him to stop, he became angry and tried to attack me. I let him swing at me until he wore himself out."
"That is such a load of shit!" Brad's brother shouted, punching Inlé in the face. Inlé fell backwards with the blow, slamming his head into the door behind him as it was opening.
The door happened to be that of a women's restroom, and Inlé landed atop a girl who had been trying to leave it. She screamed and backpedaled as Inlé rose and turned to face his opponent unfazed. Cries of "Fight!" echoed up and down the hall, summoning a crowd that rapidly surrounded the two.
The second punch swung at Inlé was caught in one hand. Holding Brad's brother's fist, Inlé wiped a bit of blood from his mouth and coolly told him, "I rarely strike a person when not entirely necessary. Continue this, and it may become necessary."
"Then do it!" Brad's brother yelled. In the background, shouts of "Five bucks on Tony!" and "Take this guy, Tony!" could be heard as the circle grew.
Tony continued to swing wildly at Inlé as Inlé dodged around. If Inlé moved too close to the edge of the ring, hands reached out to try to push him back in, though none of them touched him.
Finally, Tony landed a blow squarely in Inlé's chest heavy enough to punch Inlé backwards into the wall beside the restroom, striking his head once more. Most of the crowd cheered.
Rising slowly, Inlé said in a voice just loud enough for Tony to hear, "Very well then. Hereafter, there shall be retaliation."
"Good," Tony responded, grinning. "I've been waiting."
But the grin didn't last long. Inlé jumped straight up, planted his feet on the wall behind him, and launched himself fists-first at Tony. Inlé hit Tony with enough force to push him backwards at the crowd, who had the sense to jump as best they could out of the combatants' way.
Tony's back hit the opposite wall hard. Inlé pinned him to it with one open palm pressed against his chest. The taller boy's feet were off the ground, and the crowd fell immediately silent.
Smooth as silk, soft as down Inlé's impassive voice said, "I am without intention to continue this bout. Whatsoever was cause of the damage upon you brother was not of my fashioning. Were he to have pestered me so much as to exact such from myself, he would very much be lifeless, presently.
"When I am to fight, I do not do so merely to wound. I do so to kill."
Inlé's palm spun into a fist holding fast Tony's shirt. "So this question I pose to you:"--He pulled Tony's face close to his own--"Do you still wish for me to fight you?"
Wide-eyed, Tony whimpered a pathetic "No" and was released by Inlé.
Inlé then turned to the crowd, saying, "What purpose have you all in remaining here? There is no spectacle for you to observe. Return whence you came."
Slowly, the crowd disbursed as Inlé continued, "All persons return to their predetermined location. Do not compel a teacher to approach, continue to your destinations. Everyone out of here now ..."
Inlé noticed the door to the women's restroom open again, and the girl Inlé had landed on stepped cautiously out. "... except you."--He pointed to her.--"If I may detain you a moment, miss."
Looking surprised and uneasy, the girl stopped and faced Inlé as the last of the crowd vanished. She was vaguely familiar to him, in the way that many of his classmates were, but he could not place a name with her half-asian face and her gothic-lolita dress.
"To you, I would apologize, miss. Though I was hardly at fault for the fiasco you just witnessed, I was involved. I pray you were not injured when I struck you?"
"No," the girl replied, thumbing the corner of her mouth. "I wasn't hurt. Just scared. I don't much care for school fights. I don't want to get in trouble."
Inlé nodded. "I sympathize with such sentiments. I also find occurrences of this sort distasteful. It is all quite pointlessly sophomoric.
"If you are hale, then once more I apologize, and bid you adieu." He turned and began down the hall. "Please return to your routine proceedings."
Still looking confused and upset, the girl muttered, "Huh. Right. Okay."

Inlé sat in the back of his classroom, watching the teacher give his lecture. The man, dressed in professional but not overly well kempt grey business casual, walked the aisles of desks, passing--Inlé recognized for the first time--Brad, Jim, and the girl Inlé had spoken to only minutes before.
Stopping mid-sentence beside Inlé's desk, the teacher frowned slightly down at Inlé.
"Inlé," he nonchalantly said, "you seem to be bleeding. In a few areas." Indeed, Inlé had a small amount of blood running down the back of his neck, and a small amount out of the corner of his mouth. He had not thought to clean them away.
"Are you well enough to be in this class right now?" his teacher asked.
Inlé answered, "I am well, sir. I apologize, I did not notice that I was hemorrhaged. If I may, I would prefer to remain here."
"All right," his teacher answered. "Fell down some stairs, I'm sure." He turned to walk away.
"But," he continued, "have the nurse check on you later, your speech is off today. You're more ... formal than usual."
And the lecture continued as though there had been no interruption at all, from the middle of the sentence that had been cut short.

Clean of blood and having mended a sleight concussion, Inlé sat cross-legged in the center of his room, leaning over a map of the earth. He held a pendulum consisting of a runed iolite dangling on a silver chain from a runed moss agate over the map.
In a commanding tone, Inlé said, "Inveni. Tuatha dé Danann. Deprehende."
He sighed as he saw the iolite spin wildly over the map.
A second time, Inlé commanded, "Inveni. Coire Ansic. Deprehende."
This time, the iolite swung straight to a point over northern New York. Inlé looked intently at the map for a moment, then reached up his sleeve and pulled his silver bracelet from his wrist.
He stretched the band and stepped into the sky it revealed. Catching himself at the edge of an identical band on the other side, Inlé spun to kneel beside the portal and pulled the band he had jumped into out of the one he had exited. He then shrunk the band in his hand down to bracelet size again. This caused the other band lying at his feet to shrink to the same size. The portal was closed, and Inlé returned his bracelet to his wrist.
Getting his bearing, Inlé found himself atop a school building. He turned to face south east, jumped down from the third floor roof, and began to walk.

Arriving in a wooded area nearly an hour later, Inlé slowed his walk, glancing about cautiously. After another short walk, he came to the shore of a small pond, where he stood for several minutes.
"You may as well come out." he said suddenly. "I am aware that you are here."
"So," a sultry, watery voice gurgled, "a hunter, are you?"
"I am not," Inlé answered.
"Then," the voice said, "you should not be looking for me."
"I am not," Inlé answered. "Lady, I mean you no harm, nor did I have any plans to seek you out. I am here for a pot you may recently have acquired."
"A pot?" the voice echoed.
"Yes, namely one Coire Ansic."
"Is that what that bothersome blurker gave me? How amusing," it bubbled.
"A blurker?" Inlé repeated. "A blurker stole a piece of the Tuatha dé Danann? Is that what you are saying?"
"I merely state," the voice replied, "that if what I have is Coire Ansic, then it was delivered to me by a blurker. Nothing more.
"My, you're a handsome one."
"I see," Inlé said. "Well, what must I do to recover this item from you?"
"Hmm," the voice mused. "Nothing given, nothing gained, as the saying goes. And if you wish not to fight me for it, I can think of more ... refined ways you can pay me for this ... pot, did you call it?
"You've a cheeky mouth for one so young. I like that."
"Do you?" Inlé asked. "Well and good, but what do you wish for me to give?"
The voice was silent for a moment, then said, "Give me three days to think this over. On the third night, come to me after sunset.
"The sun does not sit well with me under it, you see. I am far too beautiful to be caught under her glare."
Inlé turned to leave, saying as he left, "As you say, Lady."
He walked into the woods a short distance, then pulled a silver ring from his pocket. This he split into two rings, one in each hand. One he place onto the side of a nearby tree, the other he twisted about his bracelet, forcing them into one piece. He then stepped through his bracelet and back out onto the roof of his apartment building.
*****
Whiteness. What's this? Where am I? My eyes open, blurry. A dark ceiling I do not know. A hand--my hand?--rises to my face. It seems foreign to me as I ponder it. What's this? What happened?
Without command, my body rises. Standing, I am surprised to find my balance so precise. I am walked, as though in a dream, toward a floor mirror and am forced to look in. What is this?
The person who I face is not me. This female of average height and build who stands before me does not resemble me in the least. No, no, no. This isn't right at all. Not at all.
I must fix this.
The nightshift changes into an overlarge orange hoodie as the bra beneath becomes a baggy black tee-shirt. Underwear becomes large shorts. My face--but not my face--looks surprised for some reason. It remains that way as it begins to change. My body grows half a foot as I fill the clothing I wear. Shoulders broaden, skin tans, face squares off. Once more I am the man I should be. But my satisfaction is short-lived.
Panic and confusion wash over me in waves from within and without my mind. Another series of thoughts washes through me. What's going on? What kind of dream is this? Why do I look like him?
These are the thoughts of the female form. Am I the invader, then? I wonder. I pause to ponder for a moment. But ... Who am I?
I release my hold, and the body I recognize fragments and slips back under the surface of this girl as she rubs her eyes. She looks back into the mirror and the panic subsides. Must just be the light or something, I hear. Right. The light can cause that much of a change. I wonder if she also hears me inside of her, but she does not respond.
I contemplate my situation as she relieves herself and gets a drink. What am I? How did I get here? I found I could observe the surface thoughts and general sensory data of my host without actually stretching outside of my residence. But that is not enough. I have to understand who I am.
I leave her lying in her bed. Not truly, but approaching the soulscape as I feel it. The soulscape that should be mine. Immediately, I find it. It is exactly as I remember it, and I begin to walk through it. But this is not my place. I feel the foreignness of my being here and wonder at it. There must be another host of this plane, then. I wander aimlessly in the black void, waiting to find its master.
Time has no meaning in a place like this, nor distance. Perspective is less than relative, and hardly follows the rules of the 'normal' reality. In a place like this, the nothingness that surrounds me is as solid as stone, as intangible as air. There is no light, but I know there is also nothing to see, because despite the lack, I see myself entirely. I am not surprised, then, to come upon my host suddenly.
As soon as I see him, I recognize the boy. I recognize the clothing, the hair, the posture. The subtle smell of fire and ice that he gives off, though I'm sure I'd never noticed it until I reached him in this void.
"Ah," I call to my host. "There you are."
He turns and faces me, and I hear my own cold, lifeless voice return with that same question I have been asking since I had woken in the girl.
"Who are you?"
*****
Inlé stood in blackness, waiting. For what, he was not sure.
A second Inlé, hands in pockets, walked up behind the first and said, "Ah. There you are."
Turning, Inlé inspected the character before him. "Who are you?"
The character before him began to grin wryly at Inlé's stoic face. "Yes," the second Inlé said. "Who ... am ... I?" It crossed its arms. "I look like you."
"You do," Inlé agreed.
Gesturing with one hand, it continued, "I sound like you."
"You do," Inlé agreed.
The second Inlé rested its chin in its palm. "Then ... am I you?"
"You are not," Inlé answered.
The other Inlé let out a single quick laugh. "Are you sure?" it asked and began to fade, laughing, into the blackness.

Inlé was in class again. His teacher came up behind him and said, "Ah, Inlé. Are you well today, then?"
"I am, sir," Inlé answered. "Thank you for your concern."
"Ah," his teacher said. "And his speech has corrected itself. I was worried at first," he continued as he walked off. "Thought you might have had a concussion."

At lunch, Inlé sat alone again, once more trying to rest. People occasionally walked by, taking no notice of the boy slumped against the wall, as usual. This was how Inlé preferred his lunches, how he preferred his entire school day, when he could have it so. But such uneventful days seemed to be growing increasingly rare.
"Hey," a voice called down to Inlé. A boy with a plate of food stood above him.
"Yes?" Inlé asked blandly.
"Mind if I join you?" the boy said, sitting even as he asked, and beginning to eat his sandwich. There were a few minutes of silence as the boy in front of Inlé ate while Inlé processed the change of circumstances.
"What is it you want?" Inlé asked finally.
Put out, the boy beside him said, "Jeez, I just wanted someplace to eat."
"Then why ask to join me?" Inlé asked.
The boy sighed. "You were here first. It's only right to acknowledge those who come before you, right?"
"You are quoting something about people who have died before you." Inlé said. "I happen to have remained alive for most of my life."
"Most of it?" The boy looked at Inlé puzzled, then burst into rambunctious laughter. "Ha ha! Most of your ha! life! Ha! You're a funny guy, you know that?"
The boy laughed again, then calmed, a hint of laughter still in his eyes. "Look," he began again when calm, "I wanted to thank you for helping me the other day."
"Huh?" Inlé said.
"Remember," the boy asked, "the thing with Brad about the money? I heard you even got in a couple of fights because of it."
Inlé thought hard for a moment, then remembered. "Oh. That. Now I remember." He began rustling into his pocket.
The boy--Jim, on recollection--was surprised. "'Now you remember'? You forgot? Jeez, way to help people out for nothing."
"It is not as though you are the only one with whom I interact," Inlé replied, pulling out another five dollar bill from his pocket. This he offered to Jim, "Here, the other half of the money, as promised."
"Come on, man!" Jim cried. "You think I want your money? You helped me out. Let's not get the roles mixed up, I'm the one who owes you."
Still holding out the money, Inlé answered, "You owe me nothing. I acted as I did for my own reasons. You were of little concern to me. Your loud friend was the problem."
"That's cold, man," Jim said. He paused for a moment, thinking. "So you really beat the crap out of him?"
"No," Inlé replied. "I did nothing to him, though I may have injured his brother. Take the money and tell no one about what happened."
Reluctantly taking the money, Jim said, "Fine and fine. But you may want to be careful. Brad's brother Tony is a super-senior on the football team. He was hospitalized towards the end of the school year and wound up failing because of it, but he's still one of the toughest guys on the team." Jim bit into his sandwich and began talking around a mouthful of ham and cheese, "You just made, like, thirty enemies in a five minute fight. I wouldn't be surprised if they jumped you to beat the crap out of you."
Inlé stood. Standing over the surprised Jim, Inlé said, "Let them come. I have faced worse than thirty school boys. Thank you for the information, though helping me further would likely get you mixed into this. From here on, do not get involved." He turned and walked off, leaving Jim to finish his meal alone.
Around the corner, he almost ran into the girl he'd spoken with after the problem the day before with three of her friends--all, he realized, classmates--whose names were beyond his grasp.
The four all wore nearly identical gothic-lolita garb: black leggings, dark grey skirts, and white blouses, all with an abundance of lacy frills. Beside the half-asian girl stood a very short girl with mussy, short, sand colored hair and a tall girl with cocoa skin and hair the brightest, most artificial red imaginable. The fourth girl was a blonde with fluorescent streaks of pink, purple, and blue shot through it at random.
"Young miss," Inlé said. "I apologize again for yesterday."
The other three ignored him completely, talking heatedly amongst themselves, but the girl addressed replied with a nod and a nervous smile as he walked by. She stared after him with a complex look on her face as he walked off.

With lunch not half over, Inlé's feet lead him to the school library. Unable to sleep, he found a large book and turned idly through it. Stopping at an interesting section, Inlé got lost in the page he was reading, and did not notice his teacher coming up behind him. He only noticed him, in fact, when he sat down and addressed him.
"Ah, Inlé," his teacher said. "What are you up to?"
"Nothing, sir," Inlé answered. "Just reading between classes."
"Still," his teacher said with a glance at the large volume on Inlé's lap, "that's quite a book to read to relax. 'Celtic Myth, Fairies, and Irish Artifacts'? Not a light read, let me tell you."
Inlé looked up, interested that his teacher--Mr. Selina, was it?--could recognize the book from its open pages. "You have read this?" he asked.
Mr. Selina reached into his suit-coat pocket, and pulled out a cigarette. "Cryptohoplology is one of my hobbies. So, while I care little for fairies, some of their toys fascinate me. That book talks about a lot of them, you see," he continued, putting the cigarette into his mouth and rifling around his other pockets. "Elf stones, fairy rings, raths, fairy eyes, even a little on the treasures of the Tuatha dé Danann.
"Not in detail, though. Just glazing them over. That's basically a bunch of stories about fairies and some specific information on some of the more famous fairies, like Puck, Oberon, and Titania."
He found the lighter and pulled it out. "Really," he continued, flicking at the lighter, "it's a shame."
"Sir?" Inlé interrupted.
Looking over, unlit cigarette hanging loosely, and lighter finally lit, Mr. Selina answered, "Yes, Inlé?"
"Smoking is not permitted within the school building, sir."
"Ah!" Mr. Selina exclaimed, snapping the lighter shut and returning it to his pocket. The cigarette, though, remained. "You're right, I forgot. Sorry, I got a bit carried away. I really do love this stuff."
Inlé closed the book on his lap. "So it would seem, sir."
A wistful look crossed Mr. Selina's face as he continued, "I used to dream about finding some of these ancient artifacts no one believes in. I'd show them to everyone and say 'See? There's some truth to these old stories.'"
He sighed. "Then I realized that even showing them off wouldn't prove it to anyone. They'd figure it was all a hoax, like the bigfoot footage and other things like that."
"And do you still wish to find them?" Inlé asked.
"Of course," Mr. Selina answered without hesitation. "But then, now I'm 'grown up' and have to act that way. So I teach History, Mythology, and various languages."
"I see," Inlé said.
Mr. Selina looked down at Inlé with a wry smile. He said, "Of course, I wonder sometimes if you know which class I teach you."
"History, of course, sir." Inlé answered immediately, which seemed to surprise Mr. Selina, whose look of pleasant curiosity was quite apparent.
"I swear, Inlé, you never cease to amaze me," he said.
"What do you mean, sir?" Inlé asked. Just then the class bell rang, announcing the end of lunch.
Mr. Selina stood and, ignoring Inlé's question, said, "Well, there's the bell. You'd best get to your next class. I'll see you in class tomorrow."
Inlé stood. "Yes, sir."
Inlé moved to return the book he held, as Mr. Selina walked toward the exit. Just before they were outside of courteous earshot, Mr. Selina called back, "And maybe later you can tell me who taught you gaelic."
A spark flashed across Inlé's eyes, the only evidence of surprise as he placed the book carefully onto the shelf where it belonged.

Inlé sat in his room, notepad on one knee, book on the other. The book had been opened to reveal the poem 'Lost' by David Wagoner, which Inlé was pondering. He began to write.
'There is nowhere in this world where you truly belong, unless you are accepted by that place. 'Here' is a world unto itself, and only 'here' may you yourself exist. The world around you knows you whether or not you try to know it.
'Breathe the air around you. Listen to its whispers. Watch its beauty as it carries the world. Feel it lift your very spirit, and taste the joys it leaves behind. Perception is the key to know 'here' as it knows you.
'Birds fly, fish swim, and snakes crawl. Trees dance and sing. Know their dances so that when they grow, you still know them. Learn how they move together so you may find them the next time you wish to hear their dance.
'And when you are lost in your life, 'here' will you return, that 'here' may comfort you with its warmth and soothe you with its gentleness. Bask in the sunlight and dance in the rain, smile with the sorrows and laugh through the pain. Remember 'here' will find you and mend your heart again.'
As he wrote, the fatigue of the day washed over him, and sleep defeated his resolve and pulled him into its cool embrace.

Inlé found himself again surrounded in blackness. He had expected it this time, and waited patiently until the second Inlé faded into existence in front of him, the perfect mirror of Inlé.
"You were right," it began. "I am not you."
"So I said," Inlé replied. "My question stands: what are you?"
The second rolled slowly backward into a headstand. Now looking up at Inlé, arms crossed and perfectly vertical, it said, "I saw you today."
"Did you?" the first asked, impassive and unmoving.
The second rolled to its stomach, then pulled its feet up behind it and planted them on the top of its head. "You need to loosen up. Be more flexible. Be friendly."
"Not my style," Inlé answered. "Where did you see me?"
The second spun sideways into a bridge, with its arms still crossed at its chest. "But then, you do have a lot on your plate right now. What with having to find the Tuatha dé Danann and all."
Inlé paused for a long moment before asking emotionlessly, "How is it that you know such things?"
The second Inlé rose from its bridge without moving its arms and turned to face the first. "I told you, Inlé," he grinned. "I am you."
"You are not," Inlé said.
"Exactly. I am you, but," it laughed, "I am not you. So then, tell me: who am I?"
"Just a copy," Inlé answered. "A cheap imitation."
The second turned and began to walk away. "Copy, hmm?" it called back over its shoulder. "Perhaps. But one day I will be you. And you will be gone. Permanently. Count on it, Original."
The copy began to rapidly disassemble as it moved away, falling into a whirling mass of colored flower petals that swirled back at the original and rushed past him. In the rustle of the wind, the original heard a voice so much like his own cackle and roar, "Count on it, Inlé!"

Inlé woke, still seated with the notepad on one knee, the book on the other. He stood and stretched, checking out the window to determine the time. Noting that morning was yet hours away, Inlé returned to his seat and replaced the notepad on his lap. He reached into his sleeve and pulled out another textbook.
As he placed this new book on his knee, a small note fell out of it. Inlé opened the note to see his own flowing penmanship scratched onto the note as if he had written the note by guiding another's hand. It said boldly, See you in your dreams ...
Inlé pondered over the note for a few minutes, then rose and slid into his corner to sleep. He continued to look at the note as he began to doze.