"I'm glad you've come, Queen Maeve," Deirdre said. She glanced at her father, who looked confident though the princess knew how nervous he must be. "What made you change your mind?"
"About ruling Kells and Temra?" Maeve asked. She shook her head, spreading her hands wide. "An experience I may share with you later. Only Torq knows my reason, for he was the only one there."
King Conchobar nodded.
"Your message said you wished to be invited to Rohan's birthday celebration," he said. "As for now, consider yourself invited."
Maeve smiled warmly; and Deirdre was relieved to see none of the ill intent Maeve's smiles usually had. She stepped forward.
"Allow me to extend my goodwill, Maeve," she said softly. "A room in the castle during your stay; the journey back to Temra is not long, but it is dangerous with your sister around."
Maeve agreed.
"Yes; I would like that very much," she said. She looked around, noticing as though for the first time that there were no other mystic knights present, excepting of course the princess. "Where is my son? The other knights?"
"Rohan is with the mystic knights, scouting for any of your troops who may have sided with Numaine."
"That's another reason I requested this meeting, King Conchobar," Maeve said. She waved Torq forward, and he gave her a small box, which she handed to the king. "My sister is powerful; moreso than I ever was; and she has the ability to converse with Dead spirits. The contents of this box are to be used only by a certain thief of both our aquaintences. He alone has the power to wield such a mighty weapon."
Conchobar and Deirdre glanced at each other.
"Angus?" They said as one. Maeve nodded.
"Yes. Surprising, isn't it," she replied. A clattering from the outside corridor grabbed the attention of the royal quartet, and four heads turned to look out the door. Rohan, Angus, Ivar, and Garrett strode in, half-drawing their swords at the sight of Maeve in the throne-room. Maeve raised her hands, placing herself in front of Torq.
"No!" She said. Deirdre approached her friends.
"They've come in peace, Rohan. To attend your birthday celebration tomorrow." The princess looked at Angus. "And to offer us an edge in our eventual battle against Numaine."
"What are you looking at me for?" Angus said, sheathing his sword. He approached Torq, inclining his head as he passed to sit on the table. "Hey there, Goathead."
Torq smiled. "Hello, Angus," he said kindly, bowing his head a little toward the thief. Angus looked worried and raised an eyebrow.
"Why are you being so nice to me?" He asked. "I thought you hated me."
Torq shook his head. "Not anymore," he said. He extended his hand, and Angus took it in a gesture of friendship.
"Are you really going to stay for my birthday, or is this another of your tricks?" Rohan asked, looking at his mother. Maeve took a step toward him, then another, slowly making her way to his side. She stood on tip-toe and kissed his cheek, letting her hand stray up to his curls. She took a deep breath, looking into his eyes.
"I want to be a mother to you, Rohan," she said. "I know I wasn't there for you in your childhood; but I didn't know where you were. Or even if you were alive."
Rohan looked deep into the hard blue eyes of his mother, searching for the truth in her thoughts. Finally he nodded.
"I believe you," he said softly. "But tell me...mother. Who was it that stole me away?"
Maeve gasped, seeming to know how it was he knew of that incident.
"You had a vision of your childhood?" She said. "Only druids can do such things by their own will!"
Rohan stood a little taller.
"I have the powers of a druid now. Cathbad gave them to me. But when I saw the vision, I didn't have such powers. What did it mean? What happened?"
Maeve looked down, ashamed.
"My father was angry with me for not wanting to be hand-fasted to the man he had chosen for me. I was told to bear him a child, and this I did, so that I could marry the man of my choosing. I didn't know that the man my father had chosen was a demon; by the time your half-brother Lugad was born it was too late. A year later Fin Varra came to see me; to court me in the guise of a human prince. He looked so like you in his younger days, Rohan; looking at you now is like looking at your father. We fell deeply in love with one another; and I suppose you know about the four children I bore him, including yourself."
Rohan nodded.
"Well; I tried to keep you all hidden from my father. But he learned of you from one of his goblin spies; he knew that you were my firstborn, my favorite, my baby. He schemed to steal you away; while I was staying with my sister Numaine. He succeeded, and I never saw you again. Oh, I searched high and low for you; but it was no use. After four or five years of searching, I just assumed you had forgotten about me. Not even Torq could find you; though he asked all around for Rohan; I never knew that was such a popular name."
Rohan smiled, helping his mother sit down, then looking up at his friends.
"She is telling the truth, Deirdre," he said, glancing back at Maeve. "I could sense it if she were lying."
The princess nodded. King Conchobar studied his former captain of the guard, wondering where he fit in all this. Torq refused to meet Conchobar's gaze, looking instead at the floor. He had missed this throne-room. Thank Dagda Maeve was going to redecorate her castle.
"Rohan," Conchobar asked, "can you tell me what Torq is thinking?"
Rohan studied the man, looking deep into his heart, into his mind.
"He's thinking how much he's missed this castle, being your chief of guards. How he wishes things were like they were before the war; when things were simple."
Conchobar looked at Torq with a smile on his face.
"Well, since you're going to be staying a while, Torq, why don't you assist Commander Uaan with the training of the palace troops?"
Torq grinned and nodded enthusiastically, hurrying out the door and into the courtyard. The king shook his head, nodding to Deirdre, who went down to point Torq in the right direction and make sure Uaan didn't run him through by mistake.
King Conchobar stood, looking at Rohan, who sat holding his mother's hand.
"Rohan, will you do the courtesy of showing Maeve to our guest quarters?"
Rohan nodded, lending his arm to Maeve as she stood and walked out the door with him.
Angus turned to Garrett and Ivar after watching this whole exchange.
"What do you think of that?" He said. Ivar smiled at the thief.
"I think it's wonderful that Rohan is talking to his mother. He has many things he has always wondered about himself and his family; anyone could see that. It's clear in his eyes. Now he has a chance to find them out."
Angus nodded sadly, wondering where he fit into Rohan's life now. Garrett seemed to read his mind, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Don't worry, my friend," he said. "Rohan won't forget us just because he's found his mother. We're his family now; we always have been, always will be. It'll work out in the end; you'll see."
Angus looked at Garrett, then at Ivar, and walked out of the throne-room. He didn't want anyone to know how upset he was; first he'd lost Bridie, the love of his bloody life; now he might be losing his best friend, too. He needed to think; he needed to go to his log-pile in the woods, the one nobody knew about but him, Aideen, and Bridie.
He hoped nothing interrupted him while he was thinking; he hated that.
"Aideen; have you seen Angus?" Rohan asked, watching the fairy hover over his head.
"No, Rohan," she said. "I'll go look for him."
Rohan watched her fly away, wondering what it was like to be able to do that; soaring high with the birds and the clouds. He turned to glance at Maeve's bedroom door; he had left her there only a few minutes ago, letting her lie down. She had told him she was feeling so tired lately; Rohan could only assume it was because all her powers were gone. He hoped there was nothing seriously wrong with her.
Aideen found Angus lying back on top of his pile of logs, his arms folded beneath his head, his unkempt black hair flowing over his red shirt. The fairy smiled. He looked so peaceful when he slept; almost like an angel. Aideen shook her head; all men looked like angels when they were asleep; then they woke up and caused all sorts of trouble.
She floated down beside Angus' face, wondering what he was dreaming. He had a small smile on his face; at least he was thinking happy thoughts. She hated to wake him up.
"Angus," she said softly, lifting up a piece of hair that covered his ear; "Angus!"
The thief muttered and rolled over in his sleep. Aideen crossed her arms over her chest, grinning and biting her lip as a thought came to her. She drew out the tiny dagger she kept tucked in her belt.
"Oh this is evil, Aideen," she thought, "he'll never forgive you for this." Yet another part of her kept saying "so what; he needs a haircut anyway."
She ran her dagger along a thick strand of hair, holding it away from the thief's head. It took her awhile, but eventually she had done with him; and the thief had short hair. It was a nice job if she said so herself, nice and neat; and his ears looked so cute and pale against the black curls on his head. His leather headband still rested around his forehead; he looked a little like a Northman. Aideen grinned to herself, but she didn't want to be around when Angus woke up. She blew a little fairy dust onto his face and flew off, hearing him sneeze as she hid behind a tree.
"Aaahhh!" She heard him scream, and she turned around to look at him. He picked up the strands of hair that lay all around him, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Aideen!"
Aideen was aghast. How could he have known she did it? She flew over to him, fidgeting her hands helplessly.
"Yes, Angus?"
Angus held up the hair.
"What have you done to me?"
"You look so much better that way, Angus. More handsome, I mean."
Angus dropped the hair, looking smug as he pulled his pants up a little.
"Really?"
"Oh, yes. Definately." Aideen smiled, then came back to herself with a start. "Rohan sent me looking for you."
"So he hasn't forgotten me, has he?"
Aideen shook her head.
"No, Angus, how could he?"
"Thanks Aideen. I'll go right now."
"Wait for me!" She cried, flying off after him.
Rohan met his friend at the door of the throne-room, his eyebrows raised, an idiotic smile on his face as he studied the thief's new hair-style.
"It's a good look for you," he said. Angus nodded, a faint smile touching his lips.
"Aideen said you were asking for me," he said. "Why?"
Rohan glanced toward the hallway, then back at Angus.
"It's my mother. I think she's sick. She told me she was very tired; and she looked so pale when I left her. It's like the fire's gone out of her."
Angus sighed and looked uncomfortable.
"I'm sorry, Rohan. We'll talk to Cathbad in the morning, alright? There can't be anything really wrong with her or she'd have told you. Right?"
Rohan shook his head, his eyebrows scrunching together. He shrugged long and slow.
"I don't know, Angus. I don't know."
Numaine laughed as she opened her eyes. She looked up at the open ceiling of her ruined castle; the vision had made her happier than she'd been in a long time. Thanks to Mider, the Bane spell had been a success. Maeve was growing weaker by the hour; her life oozing out with every breath she took. Numaine glared at Mider's chalice, calling him forth with a wave of her long-nailed hand.
"Mider, Dark Faerie of the Shleeves; I summon you!"
A green flame burst from the chalice, and Mider stood on the mantle of the cold fireplace, tapping his thumb nails together.
"Yes, Numaine?" He said, rolling his eyes at her theatrics. She was worse than Maeve with her proprieties in conversing with him.
Numaine smiled treacherously at the little man.
"Maeve is dying, Mider; I will soon sieze the throne of Temra! Then I will help you gain tir na nOg."
"Mider doesn't want tir na nOg, Numaine," he said.
"But I thought you did."
"No! Mider made a promise to his sister. Now he will never take the throne; it belongs to Aideen."
Numaine looked down and tucked her chin at him. "Very well. I did not summon you merely to tell you that, Mider," Numaine said as he prepared to return to his dark realm. "I sent for you to ask if you know where Lugad is."
"Lugad?" Mider asked, astonished. "I thought you gave up on him."
Numaine narrowed her eyes at the faerie. Mider thought it made her look piggish, and smiled.
"Lugad's weakness is for Princess Deirdre. If I tell him I have a way for him to meet her, he will return to me."
Mider was interested. "Tell Mider more, Numaine."
"I need to bring Lugad here; I want you to do it. Once he has come, I will give him a disguise; make him look like Rohan, perhaps, or something similiar. Deirdre will be so taken by him that she will allow herself to be courted. In this way I will not only seperate Draganta and the princess, but all of the mystic knights."
Mider grinned.
"Agreed, Numaine. I will bring Lugad to you."
Numaine inclined her head gratefully.
"Thank you, Lord Mider. I am indebted to you."
"Noted," Mider said, pointing at her, then at his chalice. A bubble-like shape flowed from his hands, disappearing as it passed over the chalice. Numaine recognized it as the same spell that had brought Rohan to Maeve so many months ago. She closed her eyes, seeing the vision in her mind. Lugad slept in the caves of Pyre, the Dragon of Dare. As Mider's spell came over him, he awoke and stood clumsily, pulling his battle-axe from a large stone nearby and walking out of the cave toward Numaine's castle on the hill. Numaine smiled. This was going to be fun; even if it didn't work, it would give the knights a taste of her powers.
Lugad stumbled into the main hall of Numaine's castle, the room he had been standing in when he had seen Maeve for the first time. As the spell wore off, he shook his head and looked around in fear and wonder.
"What sorcery is this?" He said in his deep, bellowing voice. Numaine stepped from the shadows, and Lugad raised his axe, ready to strike.
"Hold, Lugad. I bear you no ill will," Numaine said, and the axe was slowly lowered.
"Why have you brought me here?"
"To answer your prayers, Lugad. You have loved Deirdre for a long time, haven't you? And you fought well against your mother, defeating her to save your friends and brother. I only want to reward you, Lugad, for a job well done."
"What kind of reward, Numaine?" Lugad asked, lumbering toward her like a giant bear.
"I wish to give you a shape that Deirdre will find irresistable, Lugad. And then I will send you to her. She will be yours."
Lugad pondered this for a moment.
"I agree," he said, and Numaine smiled. She lifted her hands above her head, allowing all her power to come to her.
"I call upon the powers of the Old Ones: By the omnipotent Goddess and God; by the virtues of Sun, Moon, and Stars; by the powers of Earth, Air, Fire, and Water, that you shall obtain the shape and form of the One whom Princess Deirdre cannot resist; may you obtain all your desires through this spell! Charge this by your power, Old Ones!"
Numaine's magic surrounded Lugad, changing him before Numaine's very eyes. He became; in every possible way; a tall, handsome young man...and, though naked, she could tell that he was both proud of his new form and modest, as he covered himself with his hands. When the magic drained away, Numaine approached him, wrapping a breacan kilt around him. Standing back to admire her handywork, Numaine shook her head.
"It needs something..." she muttered, then formed something with her hands. A shirt of off-white silk and a pair of calf-high rawhide boots appeared in her arms, and she threw them at Lugad, who reached out to catch them. But when he looked down at himself, he saw that the clothes were already on him. He looked very handsome, very masculine...and definately irresistable. Especially to Deirdre.
"I think you should call yourself...Kernunnos. It is a strong name, one that Deirdre will not think to question. By no means should you let her know who you really are; the seduction must be complete."
Lugad nodded.
"I feel different, Numaine," he said. His voice sounded different, even to himself. More human certainly, and definately softer. His accent was full; very Irish. Moreso than Rohan's. "Is this what I would have looked like if I were human? And not half-demon?"
Numaine nodded. "Yes."
"Can I keep this shape, then? Ya know; after I...seduce...Princess Deirdre?"
Numaine shrugged.
"We shall see," she said. She fashioned a stone from the air, tossing it to Lugad.
"Place that under Deirdre's bed before she goes to sleep. It will assure us of victory."
Lugad nodded, tucking the rune-stone into a fold of his kilt.
"I've got a wee bit of a draft," he said. "Could I have some breeches, please?"
"Very well," Numaine sighed, waving her hand. A pair of tan pants wrapped themselves about Lugad's lower half, and he looked up, grinning. He not only felt more human, but he felt a little evil. Maybe it was Numaine's magic working on him...but he didn't love Deirdre anymore. At least, he didn't think he did. He shrugged as he turned to leave; he'd find out soon enough.
Lugad knocked on the metal hat that was worn by the one called Ivar. The dark man awoke with a start, gazing bleary eyed into the face of the handsome stranger before him. The Moorish prince had come to the lake for some peace and quiet; he saw now he would get no rest that day.
"You look like somebody," Lugad said, sounding extremely bored. "Could you tell me by any chance where I might find King Conchobar's castle?"
Ivar pointed toward the distant hills, and Lugad nodded gratefully, climbing back onto his horse and spurring it toward the castle. If there was one thing he wasn't going to like about this, it was the fact that he'd have to pretend not to recognize anybody; not even his own brother. But one took the good with the bad, he supposed.
"King Conchobar," said Lugad, bowing low; "I am Kernunnos, from Alba*. I come to make an offering of peace to your kingdom, in hopes that our two armies might join as one should we have need to battle any enemies larger than we are accustomed to."
Conchobar nodded, leaning back in his throne, placing his elbow on the arm as he stroked his graying beard.
"Your request is reasonable, Kernunnos," the king said. "Will you be with us long?"
"Regretfully, I must ask for a room in your fine castle," Lugad said. "My horse has thrown a shoe and injured himself; the ride back to my ship is a long one, and I should like the animal to be refreshed and able to travel quickly."
Deirdre spoke eagerly, not waiting for her father to say anything.
"You are welcome to a guest-quarters, Kernunnos," she said. "I'm sure you will find us hospitable to you; and hope that we may sign your treaty in the morning."
Lugad bowed toward her, and Commander Uaan led him to his quarters. King Conchobar noticed the long look his daughter gave to the young Scottish warrior's back as he left; but knew better than to say anything to her. He knew that she was not yet ready to consider any suitor besides Rohan; though he wished she would reconsider.
Deirdre looked out her window that night, pulling her shift closer around her body. She wondered what Kernunnos was doing right now. No doubt looking out his own window, wishing he were anywhere but Kells. She sighed, then stood up, taking a walk around her room, glad she was wearing slippers when she stuck a foot out and touched her toe to the cold stones of the floor. She decided to take a stroll through the castle corridors and wrapped a soft white blanket around herself.
She had reached the battlements outside when she turned to go back in to her room, light the fire again, and go back to bed...but she felt a form blocking the wind from her back. She turned her head just enough to make out the form of Kernunnos...no doubt as sleepless as she herself was. She turned on her heel to study him.
"Fair Princess Deirdre," said Lugad formally, tilting his head. He took a step forward, leaning his elbows on the battlements, looking out over Kells. "Your kingdom is quite lovely." D
eirdre approached him, leaning against the stones with one side, the fingers of her hands toying with the fringe on the blanket.
"For being a Scot, you speak our language quite well."
"We're almost one and the same, princess," Lugad said. He turned his head to look at her. "Yet your majesty would mock me."
"I do not mock you," Deirdre defended, "merely state a fact."
"I confess," Lugad began brokenly, looking out once more on the quiet, moonlit countryside, "I did not come here just to bring a peace treaty; I had heard of your beauty even in my land, sweet Deirdre. I came in hopes to woo you; to court you, and perhaps one day to marry you. Such are my reasons for staying tonight."
"Is it possible that you are more arrogant than Garrett?" Deirdre said, turning away. "Do you believe that you could woo me in one night? I am not so lonely."
Lugad moved forward, taking her face between the fingers of one hand, looking deeply into her eyes.
"Are you not," he whispered. "I think you are."
Deirdre shook her head. "No," she whispered fiercely. "No; I love the man who courts me now."
"Even a stranger such as me could see that it is Rohan who holds your interests. He is a boy, Deirdre; I am a man. This is the face, the form of a man."
Lugad frowned, looking at her face as she tore herself away from him roughly, gazing out upon her kingdom. She took a deep breath; Lugad could see it in her eyes, she was questioning her relationship with his brother. Good. Now was time to move in for the kill. He placed a gentle hand upon her shoulder, pleased when she didn't pull away.
"Come," he said, "I know you like me. And I know that come morning you will talk about me to those closest of your servants; that you will mock my bad parts and praise my good ones. But be gentle, good princess, when you rip and tear at my virtues among your friends; gentle Deirdre; because I love you cruelly. If ever you felt, for even one instant as you lied awake in your empty bed tonight, that I had one saving grace about me which you do not detest; then we shall tonight be as one. And you should make me an heir, half Irish and half Scots, that will be the saviour of both our lands! What say you, Deirdre? Sweet, kind, noble, and above all else beautiful princess? Will you have me; for one night only?"
Deirdre turned, gazing deep into his green eyes, before slapping him across his well defined cheek-bones and turning away, running back to her chamber. She shut the door and placed a chair beneath the knob to keep Kernunnos out.
He was gone when she arose the next morning.
"With the sudden departure of Kernunnos went our hopes of ajoining the nations of Scotland and Ireland, and our hopes of having the greatest army ever to battle anywhere," King Conchobar said. He looked around the room at his daughter and the mystic knights; he wondered for a moment why his daughter looked so...upset...but thought it best not to speak up. Sometimes she got that way; just like her mother had; and when it happened it was best that she be left alone. The king's eye fell on Rohan, who stood in a corner with his head bowed.
"Rohan," Conchobar asked, "how fares your mother?"
Rohan looked up suddenly, his eyes red-rimmed, either from lack of sleep or tears the king couldn't tell.
"She is a little better today, my king, thank you," he said. "Cathbad tells me that the chances are in her favor of pulling through; he cannot tell me why she is suddenly so ill, or if she will live or die."
Just then Cathbad entered the room, shaking a scroll at Rohan.
"Forgive me, my king," he said, "but I have discovered the cause of Maeve's illness."
"Well what is it, Cathbad?" Said the king.
"It is here in this scroll," said the druid, clearing the table with a swipe of his hand and unrolling the parchment. "This illness has not been heard of here for nearly a hundred years. It is caused by powerful magic..."
Rohan's eyes and mouth grew hard as he looked up from the scroll. "Numaine," he growled, turning his attention back to the scroll.
"Rohan's magic can save his mother," Cathbad said, "and, thanks to the mystic knights, I have the proper ingredient for the potion that will help in healing her."
Angus looked up at Cathbad.
"Us? When did we do something right?"
"When the drageen, Fireball, was born...you brought me the eggshell, Angus. And thanks to Rohan, Deirdre, and Garrett keeping the egg safe from Temra troops, they helped as well. Ivar also managed to be useful in there somewhere; I can't think of it now, but..."
"That doesn't matter now, Cathbad," Rohan said suddenly. "My mother is lying in that bed right now, dying by her sister's hand. If I can save her life, tell me how." The young man reached out his hand, placing it upon Cathbad's arm. He heard Cathbad's thoughts. *Rohan might die if he tries to save his mother now; his powers are yet weak...* He looked Cathbad in the eye.
"I won't die, Cathbad."
The druid studied Rohan's serious face; he'd never seen the boy so serious before. He nodded slowly.
"Come along," he said, "we've precious little time."
Rohan put the tumbler to Maeve's bluish tinted lips, coaxing her into drinking the liquid Cathbad had made from the drageen egg. As Maeve drank, Rohan placed one hand on her forehead, closing his eyes, his lips moving in the rhythm of spell-weaving. When Maeve had finished the potion, Deirdre took the tumbler from Rohan's hand, and the young warrior-druid placed his other hand upon Maeve's heart, the heel of his hand resting upon her chestspoon. His eyes rolled back into his head, his head falling back and his eyelids falling open slightly. Deirdre gasped softly when she could see the whites of Rohan's eyes, and she turned away, burying her face in her father's fur-lined cloak. Conchobar wrapped his arms around his daughter, watching as Cathbad placed his hands on Rohan's back, closing his eyes as well, lending some of his own powers to those of Draganta.
Slowly, as though the two were standing some distance from the others and walking toward them, the knights and king began to hear the words the two druids were chanting.
"Air, Fire, Water, Earth,
"Elements of Astral birth,
"Hear my chant midst the Standing Stones,
"Open to me your mystic light;
"Help me to heal;
"Help me to feel;
"Help me to bring forth love and weal.
"I call you in my ancient way,
"Here in my circle round,
"Asking that you hear me pray,
"And send your powers to light her way."
Slowly Maeve's eyelids flickered, then opened. Garrett elbowed Angus and pointed to her, and Angus grinned.
"Did I miss the party?" Maeve said softly. Cathbad opened his eyes and smiled at the queen; who suddenly looked years younger than she had when Conchobar first laid eyes on her.
"Rohan," Maeve whispered, reaching out a hand to touch her son's shoulder. He fell backward into Cathbad's arms. "Rohan!"
"Cathbad, is he..." Deirdre asked, her voice raising higher in pitch with each word. The druid shook his head.
"No, he yet lives. But I must hurry if I am to save him."
The druid shuffled through his scrolls, at last finding what he had been looking for.
"He can be made whole again only by the kiss of a princess."
"Right, Cathbad, this is no time for games," Angus said. "We all know that old fairy story; you just said it wrong."
"What if it's not a fairy story?" Deirdre asked softly. While her father, friends, and Queen Maeve looked on, Deirdre leaned over Rohan and kissed his lips softly. Pulling only a hair's breadth away, the princess watched anxiously as his eyes opened. He looked around at his friends, then furrowed his brow.
"What happened?" He said, sitting up. He glanced at Maeve. "Mother! It worked! Thank Dagda!" He took Deirdre's hand as he placed a kiss on Maeve's cheek. Looking deep into the eyes of Deirdre, Rohan smiled.
"Today we defeated Numaine in her own game. We used our wits and our powers to outsmart her," he said. "When next she strikes; and she will strike again; we will be well prepared for her."
Everyone in the room nodded in agreement, and Deirdre looked up into the eyes of the man she knew; for sure; that she loved.
"How could you foul this up?" Numaine bellowed at Lugad. "It was a simple plan; ruin the princess and seperate that flock of sheep. But you messed it up, you imbecile!"
"I am sorry," Lugad said. His eyes pleaded with Numaine to let him keep his human form; and she relented.
"I will let you keep that body," she said. "You will be trapped within it forever, Lugad; but with no more demon-strength!" She waved her hand, and Lugad felt the whoosh as his strength left him. "Now you are as human; and as mortal; as your brother."
"That's how I've always wanted to be," Lugad retorted, storming off. "Find someone else to do your bidding...you evil, evil harridan!"
Numaine thought for a moment, then nodded.
"Maybe I will," she said. "Maybe I will..."
