by Mr. David R. Dorrycott

Chapter Eleven

A picture is worth...

Amanda’s alarm woke her from comfortable sleep, its steady chirp chirp chirp breaking into dreams of home and family. Her right arm moved out of habit, her hand impacting the alarms mute button with practiced ease. Silence filled her bedroom for several minutes until, with a low complaint about not enough sleep, the young woman threw off her covers.

Cold struck her bare body through her fur, winters sharp morning cold causing her fur to fluff up in protest in a vain attempt to keep in her body heat. It was an automatic reaction that no longer had the effect it would have a thousand generations before. Her race had simply lost too much of their protective fur in twenty-thousand years. Still it was helpful, even if it did make her look like some childs stuffed toy after a run through a dryer. Now awake she pulled her slippers from under her pillow where they had remained warm through the night, carefully putting them on before letting her feet touch the floor. It was time to make breakfast, time to get ready for school. Time to wake up.

As Amanda shuffled towards her bedroom door she wondered what her family was doing now. Probably still sleeping she decided. After all it was only five in the morning. Her friend Sara she knew was probably still up. Reading some new manuscript, sketching on her pad or painting. In Winter Sara stayed up all night, sleeping during the shorter day. It was only in Spring and Summer the black furred woman maintained any sort of normal schedule.  

It was only while Amanda was heating water for morning tea that she remembered. School was out until next year. This was the first day of Winterfest and Firstday break. Her dark eyes blinked in surprise. “Could have stayed in bed” she sighed, setting her pot on the low flame to heat. She could have, but Marcus wouldn’t have and having her mage instructor upset at her wasn’t a good idea. He’d keep her up all night quoting from Abraham’s Basic Knowledge. He’d done that before when she’d snapped at him about something. No anger, he’d just let her burn out until she realized what she’d done. That mistake would never be repeated.

Marcus left his own room as the scent of hot tea reached him. Like Amanda he too was having trouble waking. Privately Amanda wondered how any reptile could function in this cold. There was snow outside, nearly ten feet of it in some drifts with the radio reporting more coming. By rights the dragon should have been hibernating, or dead. He accepted his mug from her without comment, carefully dipping a spoon into a warmed tin of honey.

“Tell me about Winterfest and Firstday” he asked as he slowly stirred honey into his steaming tea. “I know its an important holiday from how you’ve spoken about it. What else is there to know. What I mean is, is it religious, or just a celebration of some kind?”

Amanda sipped her steaming tea, letting its warmth fill her stomach before she answered. “Its both, all and none of the above” she answered. “Winterfest is a celebration of the three days before our longest night, and three days after. I’m not really up on my history about the date” she admitted. “What I remember is once the longest night has passed and at least half your food supply was still there, then people knew they were going to survive or not. That, as you may understand, depends on how much food they have in storage. If they had enough, then they had a party.”

“If they didn’t?” Marcus asked, a hint of irony in his voice.

“That’s why Winternight is a solemn night Marcus. We remember those who gave their lives so civilization could have a chance. You see, if there wasn’t enough food then the weakest left on Winternight. They would say their goodbyes, parcel out their belongings, then simply walk away from the settlement after sundown. And it wasn’t just the oldest Marcus. It was the sick, the lame, those society at the time couldn’t afford to support. Not and survive.”

“You mean the blind, limbless and mentally retarded don’t you.”

“Not the blind Marcus. They were each societies memory. They were the Bards, singers, keepers of history, teachers, Ambassadors to other villages. And they could work. But your right about the rest. And Marcus? It sometimes included any children born since the harvest. It was a hard time. Even now some societies still practice it, but their rare. We trans-ship food everywhere. Technology has saved more lives than its taken.”

Marcus settled back against a cushion. “Every world I’ve heard of did about the same” he admitted. “At one time or another Amanda. When you don’t have enough to feed everyone, you cull the weak. There’s nothing to be ashamed of, some worlds I teach on still do this. They have too. “ He held out his mug for another serving of tea, waiting until Amanda had dipped his spoon into the honey tin and returned it to his mug before he continued. “Actually, this is the first world I’ve encountered where there was enough food for everyone to live coupled with transportation fast enough to get it to those in need, in time.” He held up his free hand, stopping Amanda’s response. “I don’t mean thrive, but even the starving can hope to receive food from one nation or another. That seems to require a high level of civilization. For mass storage, mass transit. Wither its magical or technological. So Winternight you what? Sit and remember?”

Amanda smiled, taking a moment to run a hand down her jean clothed leg. “In my religion we light candles just before sundown. Then we call out all the names of people we know who have died. We also leave out small offerings of bread and fruit. We’re supposed to stay up all night. Our candles are supposed to be beacons to welcome those souls still wandering to a friendly home. It doesn’t always happen of course, when your young or old staying up all night isn’t easy. If no more than a night though. I’ve never managed. To stay up I mean. I was too young at first, then I got ill. Mom and Dad will call my name this year, and every year. Gonna feel odd, being alive and everyone thinks I’m dead.” She raised an eyebrow as Marcus’s mouth opened. “Been through it already, its settled okay? Your right. I don’t gotta like it but...” She waved her free hand towards the fireplace. “I made my choice. A free choice. I’ll live with it. And it is best for them. I think I can stay up all night this time though.”

“Your religion remembers the dead. So, what do other religions do?”

Amanda sat her now-empty mug down between her knees. “I only know what Sara’s does. She parties.” Amanda waited until Marcus digested those words before she continued. “She believes that everyone who dies is waiting to be reborn. On Winternight all those souls are released back into the world to find new bodies. Children not yet born I mean. So she has a party, celebrating the return of everyone she lost back into our world. Which means” Amanda finished is stunned understanding. “She believes I’m going to be reborn next year.”

“I think your Sara is in for a rude surprise” Marcus decided. “About you I mean. Since your brain never really died your soul never left your body. That means” he giggled, catching Amanda by surprise. “Your not going to be a baby next year. No diapers, no bottles. No screaming your lungs out to wake adults at two in the morning. Poor Sara, dreaming of you giving trouble to your new mother and father, while here you sit, learning to help balance your world.” He took another sip of his tea. “And running your ancient teacher against the walls sometimes. What about Firstday?”

“Firstday” Amanda repeated, life returning to her voice. “Basically it’s the first day of the new year. I don’t know what the original meaning of the day was. I do know that in some civilizations it was when your marriage was official. No matter when you married or how. Some absolve all non-monetary debts, some all monetary debts. Here we give presents to each other. Nothing big, that’s for birthdays. A little token of how we feel about each other. I left presents for my family and... Oh God” she gasped, the skin under her fur turning pale. “I forgot. She’s going to think I hated her.”

“Forgot? Forgot what?” Marcus asked.

“Sara. I was going to leave her my picture. Just a photograph. She’s always wanted one but I never had the time. Or didn’t have the money. Now its too late.”

“I see. You left presents for your family and forgot your only real friend. This photograph. Is it like the pictures in your books?”

“Kinda” Amanda answered. “Those are half-tones. It you look close you can see little dots. Photographs don’t have dots.”

“And where would you get one of these photographs created? An artists studio?”

“A photography shop, but its only a few days before Winternight. No ones going to be open and I don’t have any money anyway.”

“I do still have a quantity of ‘money’ remaining from my lost calling spell Amanda. I am certain that Hanson will know of one of these photographers. You go clean up, I’ll talk to Hanson. Perhaps this can still be done. If your parents haven’t cleared your room yet.” He hopped to his feet, walking back to his own rooms while Amanda busied herself cleaning up the tea, and there was still breakfast to get.

As if on cue as Amanda was ladling out hot cinnamon oatmeal Marcus returned. “Hanson knows someone, a minor Order mage” he reported, hopping into his seat opposite of Amanda. “Not expensive but we have to do it immediately after breakfast. Apparently good work will take the day, perhaps two and she wants to be with her husband during the holidays. You have plans for today?”

“Other than study, none” Amanda answered. “Did.. What should I wear?”

“Hanson explained that his friend will supply what you need. She will ask you several questions about the person this pictures for, then she’ll decide what you should wear. Its her Firstday gift to you. Apparently she is not a powerful mage nor can she be. Still her gift of true art happens to be something she enjoys. Eat up, we’ll have to gate soon.”

Amanda ate, careful to catalog her questions. Minor mage? She’d been under the impression everyone who studied magic could be as powerful as everyone else. And gift? Something caused her to catalog that statement under ‘talent.’ By the time they had eaten and she’d cleaned up their plates Amanda had over a dozen questions. Somehow she managed to ask only one. “Then I’m incorrect to assume that everyone who studies magic can be as powerful as everyone else” she asked.

“Yes” Marcus answered. “Now quiet, I’m gateing according to Hanson’s instructions. She expects us, but never having been to this place I could hit anything from her living room to her bathroom.” He carefully preformed his cast, waiting until the oval shape had stabilized before relaxing. “That’s it, lets go.”

Marcus had been right Amanda realized as she bumped into a table with trays of liquid. He could hit anywhere, he’d happened to hit the darkroom. When Marcus stepped through his first reaction was to screw up his face at the smell. As much as a dragon, even a small one could do so. Then he sneezed. A moment later a door opened and a pleasant middle aged woman looked in. “You missed” she said with a soft giggle, holding her hands a few inches apart. “By this much. Come. Lets have a soft drink and chat. Your Lollypop... I mean Amanda correct? Then this is Marcus your instructor. Its so wonderful...” She chatted on as the two made their way out of the darkroom into a studio, then following the constantly chattering voice into a small setting room.

Amanda found a chair and after her mentor had located a place to sit, settled down. “And what kind of picture do you want?” the photographer asked abruptly. “Oh wait, my names Justine. Mary Justine. You can call me Mary. Now, what kind of photo?”

“I guess just a regular portrait” Amanda decided. “If you’ve got something I could change into. This is what I was wearing the morning I... I uh... I can’t”

“You can’t let them know your alive. We know your difficulty. Hanson informed us under threat of skinning us alive for winter clothing if we didn’t keep it a secret.” Mary patted her hand on Amanda’s shoulder when the girls lower jaw dropped. “It’s a joke. I don’t think Hanson’s worn anything but cotton in oh, three hundred years? So who’s it for dear? A boyfriend?”

“Uh no. He died a while ago” Amanda admitted. “Its for my best friend. She’s an artist and she took..”

“Her out to bury her” Marcus finished. “Her name is Sara. I have observed her works. She is quite a good artist and sculptor” he finished. “I’ve seen her working in her studio as well. Very talented. Still it hasn’t been but a season so you will have to camouflage her weight. She was a thin thing, illness had robbed her. Not all filled out like she is now.” He fidgeted a bit. “Amanda?”

Amanda nodded. “I think I’ve put on about fifteen pounds, pretty much evenly so far. But my face isn’t thin anymore and she’s seen me naked more than once, for a class painting. I was her model you know.”

“No, I didn’t” Mary admitted. “Marcus, why don’t you run upstairs and talk to my husband Franklin. He’s a science fiction writer you know. I’m certain he’d love to hear about some of the places you’ve been.”

Marcus grumphed, standing as if it took all his strength just to move. “Here I go, thrown out by the women like some old sock.” He false hobbled towards the stairs. “As if I wasn’t old enough to hear these things. I am married you know. Even have several adopted children and dozens upon dozens of descendants. But nooo...”

“MARCUS” Mary snapped.

“I’m going I’m going” he answered, then snorted through his nose. “As if I wanted to listen to women talking. FRANKLIN! I’m coming up. I know when I’m not wanted.”

As soon as Marcus had made his way, ever so slowly, up the stairs Mary turned back to Amanda. “How good an artist is your friend” she asked. Her voice was suddenly serious. “I can’t fool a good artist with darkroom tricks. No one can. Is she good?”

“I think so. She does book covers a lot.”

“A two year old with a crayon can get a job doing book covers. It doesn’t really take that much effort. Look at Picaso, he’s a no talent but people fall all over themselves to buy his scribbles. Might I have seen her work?”

“Maybe” Amanda admitted. “Who publishes your husbands books?”

“Richen, and DiVatch sometimes.”

“Sara’s done work for DiVatch. Mainly science fiction. She’s been doing their naked simian invaders series.”

“Oh God... That’s bug-eyes work. I know... Sara, signs her work SK right?”

Amanda almost laughed in surprise. “Sara Karst. Yes.”

“Tell me... You’re the captured princess right?”

“It was really cold doing those sessions” Amanda admitted. “Darn near froze my tail off at the root acting frightened of that mannequin.”

Mary sat, a stunned look coming to her face. “There is no way, and I mean no way I can fool her with dark room tricks Amanda. And if I don’t introduce you to my husband before you leave he’ll never forgive me. You see he’s got a crush on the princess. Meaning you. This I’ll do for free, if you’ll autograph his copies of bug-eyes trash. I mean books.”

“Why do you call that author ‘Bug-Eye’” Amanda asked curiously. “I agree his stuff’s pretty bad, but it sells doesn’t it? I mean, he demands Sara work on his covers and she hates his stuff. So she charges triple and he never argues.”

“Well hon. Bug Eye refers to those porthole glasses he wears. I’ve met him at a Planetcon. He’s as nasty in person as his books are, and as blind” she sighed. “Anyway, his trash sell’s because there’s as much skin in it that he can get, and still not be considered an adult book. There’s no plot other than boy see’s girl, boy enslaves girl. His grammar is horrible and his world is completely one dimensional. “ She shook her head, “Not that I like Science Fiction. Give me wooden ships on the high seas any day.”

“I like detective stories” Amanda admitted. “And super heros. The comic book ones.”

“Comic books” Mary gasped, holding both hands against her chest. “Oh no, and your going to be the new Neutral? Please don’t tell me I’m going to have to wear some skin tight costume one day.” She lowered her hands, patting a rather larger than normal belly. “Honest” she admitted. “Franklin did not marry me for my looks. He says I’m snuggly.”

Both women laughed, “The idea of you, or me in a...” Amanda put a hand to her mouth. “Sara yes, but us?” She laughed so hard tears came. Slowly both women managed to get their mirth under control. “I think we better get back to the picture” Amanda suggested.

“Your right. Tell me about this Sara. What kind of person is she? How important, and what do you want to convey in this picture?”

“I thought maybe a glamor style” Amanda answered without expanding upon her reasons.

“Why? And how good a friend was this Sara” Mary asked seriously. “Glamor shots don’t take any more work than a simple portrait, but their usually reserved for people your very, very close to.”

Amanda blushed. “I’ve seen some before. In books at Sara’s studio. It looks like it’d be awfully easier to hide my better health, my new weight.” She licked her lips, wondering if she wanted this woman to know the rest, then decided it was best. “A couple of years ago mom warned me Sara was in love with me. She didn’t want me to be hurt. You know, because I’m not.. I mean...” She hesitated, unsure as to the words she really wanted to use.

“You don’t love her the same way” Mary supplied.

“Yeah. That” Amanda agreed. “Besides I don’t think Sara is really that into girls. But mom says that sometimes your attracted to people you couldn’t expect. We spent a lot of the last few years together. And Mary, I’ll be honest. There were some times while watching Sara work that I. Well I... Oh never mind.” Amanda blushed, looking down at her hand while she regained control.

“I understand” Mary admitted. “I’ve had a few models that well. Lets just say I understand and leave it at that. But you think it’d be a nice idea to give her a somewhat personal photo of yourself?”

“She’s seen me in my undies lots” Amanda blurted. “Less actually. I’ve posed for simply hours for her. Its just, the only pictures I ever gave her were the ones from school. You know the kind. Cookie cutter things that make everyone look like dweebs. I just wanted to give her something special, but I never had the time when she wasn’t with me. She was sorta more my nurse than friend the last year or so. When she wasn’t around I was just too weak.”

“I can understand that. What career field are you thinking of following?”

Amanda beamed, “Archeologist. I’ve started classes in college and my grades are really good so far. I’m kinda weak in chemistry but...” She stopped chattering. “Every since I can remember I’ve been a nut about history. I think I sort of wore everyone out with my dreams of being an Archeologist. Even though I knew I’d never get the chance. Or thought...” She shrugged. “Its still hard realizing I’m alive. I’m well and I can be what I’ve dreamed of.”

Mary patted Amanda’s knee. “Don’t worry dear. Its probably normal. So you want to be a scientist digging up the past. That gives me some idea. Why don’t you just relax here while I go dig through my costumes. If we use one just a size too large, that ought to compensate for your new health. Don’t worry, unless we really mess up and make her look, she’ll never know. I’ll even date stamp the print to just after my last IRS filing. That way there won’t be any clues to tell her.”

Very late that evening Marcus and Amanda left for home again. Amanda now clutched a framed photograph tightly in her hands. Through it all, with every attempt made to hide the truth, no one had thought about her ring. That evening Marcus helped Amanda wrap the now boxed photo in brightly colored paper. Once that was done he opened a small gate to her bedroom closet, allowing her to ‘hide’ the package among those she’d long before left for her family.

“They’ll never know” Marcus promised her. “Its even going to have the same amount of dust on it. But this is going to cost you. All Sunday studying.”

“No rest for the slaves” Amanda agreed. “Thank you Marcus. That was really important to me. Its worth more than a Sundays study. I promise you. You will have my full attention.”

He nodded, unfolding then refolding his wings like a living cape. “I know. More importantly, your new friends know. Signing those books was a real treat for Franklin. Meeting Sara’s model was important to them both. I don’t claim to understand why, its something to do with their love of art. That kiss you gave him looked a bit more than chaste though. I think you have a fan for life. Now you better get to sleep. You’ve a long day tomorrow and even more slave driving by me tomorrow night.”

“Yes oh heartless cruel master who abuses my every waking moment. Your worthless slave obeys instantly.” Amanda giggled, bowed and turned for her own door. She almost made it before the pillow Marcus threw hit her on the back.