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Subject: {ASSM} The Mystic Treefort #3: Nymphs in November [FF]
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The Mystic Treefort #3: Nymphs In November

Chapter 1: The Glow of Doubt

In his bed, Jack turned over, opened one eye and glanced up. There was
a light shining off the top of his dresser. "Oh, no," he groaned.

It was his Library Card, and he capitalized it in his head because it
referred to no Library on this Earth. It belonged to a woman he knew
only as The Librarian. Ten years ago when he had been only nine, he
and his sister had become Librarians for her, travelling through time
and space to retrieve books for The Library's collection. After his
last mission, he wasn't sure he wanted to go on another one.

The last two had frightened Jack. Their meeting with Petronius had
been bad enough, but the Marquis de Sade had been so unnervingly
powerful and influential that... Jack tried not to think too hard
about what had happened at de Sade's. He remembered that he had run--
and Annie with him, he noted-- back to the Treefort with the completed
120 Days of Sodom under his arm at full speed without looking back.

Did he really want to go on another mission? Once, when he was
younger, he might have said yes. On many of those missions he had
almost been killed, but that had never stopped him from going on
another one. He had always been willing to risk his life for more
knowledge. That willingness defined his life. But the current series
of missions seemed to risk something other than his life. They
threatened his dignity and his honor, and those of his sister. He was
suddenly angry at The Librarian. She should have warned him!

He wasn't sure that would have stopped him.

Snarling, he picked up the card. He dressed, pulling on boots, and
walked to the door. When he opened it, Annie was standing there. She
was also dressed and holding her Library card. "Jack?" she asked.

"How long have you been standing there?" he said.

"Only a few minutes." She smiled, tiredly. "She's calling us."

"Annie..."

"Can you say no, Jack?"

Jack glanced down the hallway to the window that overlooked the woods.
"I don't know."

Annie said, "Let's... let's go read her note, Jack. We owe her that at
least."

Jack nodded. They grabbed flashlights and walked out of the
house. Jack glanced at his watch. It was two in the morning.

They found the treefort in the woods without a problem. It was exactly
where it always was, on the tallest branch of the tallest tree. Jack
looked up the length of the ladder, and then he saw the swing of
Annie's flashlight on her hip as she started up.

"Hey!" he said.

"There's no point in waiting, Jack," Annie said.

Jack grumbled and took hold of the ladder. He knew it was Annie's role
to leap and for him to think, but she did not have to always be so
obvious about it. When he pulled himself into the treefort, Annie was
already holding the folded piece of parchment. She started reading it
even before he asked.

  Dear Jack and Annie,

  I know the last mission was very hard on the two of you. The next
  two will be very easy. You're going to a lovely summer island in
  Greece, where you will meet a sad woman who writes joyful poems.

  You are simply the best people I have ever known, and have never
  said no to anything I have asked of you. Please do this for me,

  L.

Jack sighed. "It can't be that bad. Where's the book?"

Annie laughed when she picked it up, knowing that Jack couldn't
refuse.  He loved knowledge, he loved knowing. It was what made him
the great scholar that he was. The book had the now-common bookmark of
bright green leather sticking out of it, and when Jack saw it, he
smiled too.  The book was entitled Sappho's Lyre: Archaic Lyric Poetry
of Ancient Greece. "I guess I know who's getting laid on this trip,"
Jack said.

"Jack!" Annie said. "You can't mean that. Besides, I'm not attracted
to girls, any more than you are to guys."

Jack had finally confessed to Annie what had happened to him at the
hands of the Marquis de Sade. Annie had first tried to tell him it was
rape, and Jack had scoffed it off as little more than a horrible
hazing gone wrong, and he clung to that interpretation because the
alternative was not acceptable to him. He didn't want to think of
himself as a victim, nor the Marquis as a monster. He was alive and
whole, and that past was more like a dream than anything that Jack
could remember.

"Still," Annie said, her hand stroking the leathery cover of the book.
"No."

"What?" Jack said.

Annie smiled. "Girls are supposed to be nice to each other."

Jack gave a lopsided grin. "Yeah, well..." He blushed. He wasn't
supposed to think of his sister that way. Annie was supposed to be a
nice girl. "She promised these would be easier."

Annie nodded, opened the book. A woodcut illustration showed a scene
outside an old brick wall, painted white. Inside, a woman sat with a
lyre, holding it but not playing it. "I wish we could go here," Annie
said.

A wind arose outside the treefort. A sweet, playful sound this time,
reminding Jack of the thrill they both felt when they were children.
The world outside the window began to spin, and then the treefort
began to spin with it. The wind picked up enough to be frightening.

And then everything was still. Utterly still.

Chapter 2: Sappho

Jack opened his eyes. He always closed them during the flight although
he was never sure why-- what was he afraid of seeing? Annie, if she
kept her eyes opened, never told him that he had missed any
particularly spectacular light shows. Sunlight streamed in through the
large window of the treefort (was it a window still when it lacked any
glass? he wondered) and the sounds of seagulls pealed nearby in the
air. Annie laughed and clapped her hands together. "We're here!"

"Where's here?" Jack asked. He picked up the book. "Sappho's family
lived on the island nation of Sicily for fifteen years, after they
were banished from their home nation following a political reversal of
fortune."

"Jack," Annie said. "Sicily is where the Mafia come from!"

"That was hundreds of years later, Annie. Right now Sicily is just a
large island kingdom."

"Oh," Annie said. Despite all she had done with Jack and the treefort
over the years, ordinary world history was still not her strongest
subject. Jack had tried to explain to her that Art History was world
history, only from a certain point of view. Annie understood that, but
events outside of art itself still escaped her. Annie tried to look
appropriately abashed, but she didn't quite make it. "Let's go, Jack."

The treefort was lodged in a palm tree swaying gently back and forth.
The air was sultry and bright without a single cloud in the sky. Over
the cries of the seagulls, the playing of something that sounded like
a harp reached their ears. It sounded out of tune. "Come on,
Jack. We'll never get anywhere if we don't leave the treefort."

Jack followed Annie down the rope ladder. The tree in which they had
landed was short but strong-looking, and the drop much less than
usual.  The treefort had followed its backup strategy: rather than the
tallest tree, it had looked for any tree on which to land. Twice, Jack
recalled, it had landed on the ground because there had been no tree
within walking distance of the mission: once at the North Pole, and
once on the moon.

Although it hung late on the horizon, the sun was merciless to this
southern stretch of beach overlooking the Mediterranean. Jack and
Annie had seen this ocean before many times on their voyages, and Jack
never grew tired of its beauty. He knew that part of the reason he
wanted to be an archaeologist was that so many interesting digs could
be found around its waters, and that was one of the many things the
Librarian had taught him. The sea hovered just off the sand, its
lazily breathing surface hot and flat and shining like a hammered
shield of green copper. Even the seagulls refused to cry too loudly.

"Let's follow the music, Jack," Annie said gently. She started walking
toward the stone-and-plaster buildings. Jack followed. The music still
came, sad and haunting, from a building with a doorway that led down
to the beach. "Hello?" Annie said.

A woman sat in a courtyard, her hands on a small lute. Jack recognized
the instrument from the illustration. She turned her head to them.
"Hello," she said. "What brings you here?"

"My brother and I are looking for the poet, Sappho."

The woman smile was a contrast to the sea-deep sadness in her eyes.
"Poet, you say? I am no poet. No woman can be a poet here. It is
unseemly."

"You mean, in Sicily?" Jack asked.

The woman nodded.

"But you are Sappho, right?" Annie asked.

"That is my name. But who are you, strangers?"

"I'm Annie, and this is my brother, Jack. We have come from far away
to hear your poems. I would like to write them down, if I may."

"Annie," Jack hissed. "Didn't you hear what she said? You can't tell
people here you can read and write." He looked up at Sappho. "Is it...
is there some penalty for a woman who can read or write?"

"Only rejection from polite society," Sappho said. "It is more
troublesome for the man who taught her. Did you teach her?"

"What? Oh, no. Annie learned to read and write from our parents,
first." Both of them had been exposed to many stories from their
parents, who had done the right thing and read to them almost from the
time they were one year old.

"You said you were from far away? Are you returning there? Then you
have no need to fear from polite society, if you have come to hear me.
I shall... I shall sing tonight. Annie, you are welcome to come and
hear my poems. Would you like that?"

"I would!" Annie said. "I would very much! I've heard so much about
your poetry!"

"Then you are welcome in my home as is your brother. However, my song
tonight is not for him or any man."

"I understand." Once, when Jack and Annie had met Aristotle, Jack had
been the one privileged to wander free, and Annie had been the one
given over to chaperons. Jack sighed. "What will I do?"

"My brother has returned from Etrusca. I am sure he can regale you
with a thousand stories that will turn your hair white," Sappho
said. "The Etruscans are at war with the Gauls. Once more."

Jack stared. The Etruscans? Nobody knew anything about the Etruscans
other than a few scraps and relics left over from digs in southeastern
Italy. They had been artistic and yet unlettered, and no writing from
them persisted. "I think I should like very much to talk to your
brother," Jack said.

"Then it is settled," Sappho said. She clapped her hands together and
a servant came out from hiding. She was shorter than Sappho, but
heavier too. "Zef, fetch our guests some wine, and then fetch my
brother. He has a guest."

"Yes, mistress," the woman said, bowed, and walked away. Jack and
Annie exchanged glances, for they had known that the nobility of all
these times kept slaves, and they had become familiar with it. Jack
thought he should worry about himself if he ever become comfortable
with it.  The slave girl returned with two large goblets, one in each
hand, and she presented them to Jack and Annie.

Chapter 3: The men around Sappho

Jack took his and sniffed it. There was an acrid smell to it, as if it
had turned slightly to vinegar, but when he lifted it to his mouth the
coolness of the wine washed away any doubts. It was wonderful, and he
smiled up at Sappho. "Thank you," he said.

"You are welcome," she said. "Ah, here his is. This is Palmris.
Palmris, this is Jack. He is the brother of my friend, Annie. If you
would keep him out of trouble this evening, I would most appreciate
it."

Palmris was a short man, older than Sappho. His grey, smokey eyes
seemed flat and tired as if he had been going without much sleep
recently, but he nodded. "You must stay in my quarters," he said,
eyeing Jack with a vague sense of curiosity but nothing more. Jack was
relieved. After his encounter with the Marquis de Sade he wasn't sure
if even his own ironically correct sensibilities could take more
tweaking, and he didn't need to be reminded that in this era of Greek
history homosexuality was a potential hazard of life. The sexes
thought of the other as alien and distinct, without much overlap in
culture or interest.

Palmris grinned at him briefly. "Forgive me. I was up last night
drinking with my men, and I have just awakened from a nap. Where are
you from, stranger?"

"The city-state of Hamp," Jack said, translating as best as he could.
"It is very far from here. My sister came in search of yours."

Palmris looked at Annie the same way someone might examine a
horse. The he shrugged. "May she find what she came for. Come, I shall
show you my quarters. Later this evening my soldiers will come by and
we shall be conducting some business and then... drink!" He laughed,
but Sappho gave him a withering look. "I shall not end up a slobbering
old fool, sister."

"Oh, Palmris, I know that. But when you return from a journey you are
always so celebratory, and I worry that you shall become a scourge of
the island. Someday, you shall fight a man who shall leave a knife
between your ribs."

Palmris placed his hand on his side just under his left armpit as if
feeling for the knife already. Jack watched, wide-eyed, as he pulled
one out. "Someone has!"

Sappho said, "Your tricks with knives are cute, dear brother, but
surely you can do better than that."

"How did you do that?" Annie asked.

Palmris showed Jack and Annie the leather sheath braced on his wrist,
and how he had freed the knife from it before reaching up to feign the
search. "It is a useful skill when one is a mercenary."

Mercenary. Palmris was a soldier who sold his services to a buyer and
would fight on whichever side had the most gold. Jack shivered: this
tired-looking little man was a soldier and a killer who carried a
knife with him everywhere he went, even in the presence of his sister,
one of the greatest poets the world had ever known.

"Jack, come," Palmris said. He was not one to speak
quietly. Apparently his lowest volume was meant to be heard over the
din of battle. It was not an order but an invitation. The only kind
Palmris knew how to make.  "My men will be here shortly."

Jack smiled tightly. "Thanks. I think. Annie? Be careful."

"You too, Jack."

Jack walked off with Palmris.

Chapter 4: Wives and daughters

Annie sat quietly while Sappho played her lyre, not saying a word. She
watched the sun sink lower into the west, and heard the songs of the
seagulls, and smelled the salt of an ocean rich with life. Other
smells reached her from time to time, sweet and savory. She had often
wondered if there would come a day when she would not return to
Frogton but would instead choose to stay in a time and place other
than the 21st century. She had had her shots, and she knew enough
modern hygiene and nutrition that she could probably have stayed alive
much longer than her peers in any time she settled down into. She had
even managed to get smallpox and polio vaccinations back when there
had been fears of a terrorist outbreak.

A woman appeared in the doorway. Sappho looked up and nodded at her.
She nodded back, regarded Annie with surprised eyes, then sat down
next to her. "I am Aithra."

"Annie," Annie told her. She was a small woman, clear of skin but
missing a tooth. That was no surprise to Annie. Other women came in,
all of whom seemed to know one another, but all wanted to be
introduced to Annie. She realized after a while that it was her pale
skin and especially her hair they were all looking at, the soft curls
so different from the tight, wax-laden hairstyles the women of Greece
wore at this time. Annie collected names: Kolette, Ouriana, Dianetris,
Selini. Soon twenty or more women were collected in the courtyard even
as the sun touched the sea.

Sappho stood up. "Thank you all for coming here, for braving the night
to be one with your own kind. There is little that the world of men
has given to us, so let us enjoy our short time together." She picked
up a basket, walked to the door. "Come, if you will."

Annie noticed that most of the other women had baskets as well. Not
all of them, which made her feel better.

They walked down to the beach and Sappho led them along its sands
until they reached a cave. The sun had gone down completely and now
only dusk settled across the sea sent grey shards of light off a still
sea into the cave's darkness. Annie saw that it was a grotto,
half-full of water. "We have a few hours," Aithra said, "Before the
tide brings back the sea. We mark our time carefully and well."

Annie nodded. "Thanks," she said, knowing Aithra was trying to make
her feel comfortable.

Sappho led them to the back of the grotto. Annie had been afraid that
it would smell of seaweed, but it had a clean, sweet smell like the
ocean. Waves washed in regularly, soft rushes of noise that made Annie
feel as if she were in the sea already, rhythmically swaying back and
forth. She saw other women affected as she was. Sappho produced a lit
oil lamp, and others shared with lamps taken from their baskets until
the grotto was alight with little fires. Reed mats were also placed
down on the ground, and the women sat upon them.

Sappho beckoned to Annie, and Annie joined her. "Are you familiar with
Aphrodite?"

"Only... she is one of your gods, Sappho. Not one of mine."

"But you know of her?"

"Yes."

"Good." She raised her head. "Let us sit. Aithra, you shall lead the
prayer tonight."

Aithra sat cross-legged before a bowl from which smoke rose in lazy
wisps. She raised the bowl to her face, inhaled deeply, held the smoke
within her lungs for as long as she could, then released it with a
gasp. She began a chant that Annie could not make out. The other women
began to dance, gyrating around her. "Come, Annie, come!" Sappho
shouted, holding out her hands.

Annie jumped into the dancing circle, her feet mysteriously falling
into place as if she had always known this dance. She linked hands
with Sappho and another, shorter woman with dark hair and kohl-rimmed
eyes, and followed along as their dance spiralled in toward
Aithra. Aithra's chant grew louder and faster, and the women spiralled
in closer and closer until Annie was pressed up, chest to back with
women before her and after her. Sappho was the one behind her, and
Annie felt a soft kiss planted on her neck.

Chapter 5: Boys with their toys.

Palmris had led Jack back to the the men's side of the building. There
were two men waiting for Palmris already. "Kyrenios," Palmris said,
reaching out with a hand to grasp the wrist of the shorter man. "Good
to see you."

"And you, Captain," Kyrenios said. "What have you here? I thought you
did not go for morsels so--"

Palmris laughed. "He is the brother of a friend of my sister's. Do not
presume. I do not believe he goes for your 'morsels' either."

"Pity that," said the other man.

"Heraklesr," Palmris said. "What is the tally?"

"Excellent, Captain. Enough to keep all the men in their cups for six
months if they are so inclined. And your share is respectable. Not
enough to take back Lesbos, but..."

Palmris cut him off with a wave of the hand. "The tide will turn even
there, Heraklesr, even there. There will come a time." Jack sat and
watched as Palmris conducted business, using a small box of shallow
pits and stones, as well as a wax tablet, as Heraklesr rummaged
through a green cloth bag and pulled out little tokens. Palmris nodded
when it was done. "It is good, Heraklesr. You are correct. It is
enough to keep the men in food and drink through the winter." He
grinned. "Let us go find the others. I should like to drink to this
tonight."

Palmris and the other men led Jack out into the streets. The tavern
they sought was not far away through the dusty narrow streets, and
when they entered a cheer greeted Palmris. Two dozen men, handsome and
recognizably powerful under their simple, belted tunics rose and
lifted the cups to him. "Men!" Palmris shouted. Then he lowered his
voice. "We have done well, and Heraklesr will distribute to you your
rewards in the morning. In the meantime, drink, drink and be happy,
for your captain commands you!"

The roar that greeted Jack's ears impressed him. "And who is this?"
said one of the men.

"Blathyllos, this is Jack, the brother of one of my sister's friends.
We are to show him the life of our town. He will be here only a while
before he and his sister return to their own state."

Jack realized that he was taller than just about every man there. Most
of them looked like they were stronger than Jack, and certainly all of
them had much more combat experience. The past was funny that way.
Thanks to the Librarian, Jack had become much more grateful to modern
medicine and hygiene. They all looked at him with curiosity, one or
two with something more. "Tell us of your travels, Jack!"

Jack told what he could. He talked of Crete, of the mainland, and of
lands so far away that they might have been mere legends. "You speak
as one who truly has traveled. Your eyes say you speak the truth, but
you are too young to have been to so many places," one man said.

Jack shrugged. "I've been lucky."

"Lucky!" Palmris said. "Man is lucky when he is allowed to settle to
his land, farm it, raise his brood on it, and be buried in it. All
else is folly." He had hit his wine hard and fast, Jack saw, and his
eyes burned with frustration. "Someday, we shall return to Lesbos, and
I shall take my rightful place!"

"Aye!" the men all said at once.

Jack lifted the cup to his lips. "Aye," he said. He drank only a
little. The wine was bitter.

A huge man with muscles all over his arms and shoulders gave Jack a
friendly punch on the shoulder, handed him a wooden sword. "Are you
with us, lad?"

Jack looked at the handle presented to him. "I'm not a soldier."

"Ah, then a lover, are ya?"

"He is a guest of my sister's," Palmris said. "Leave him be."

The man looked like he was about to say more when a commotion at the
door caught everyone's attention. "Palmris, you jackal! What are you
doing here?"

Palmris stood up quickly. "Doing what any man does here, Aristoxenus!
I am drinking!"

"With money I should have won!"

"You bid high, you fool, of course you didn't win!"

The man called Aristoxenus was taller than Palmris, a muscle-hided
powerhouse, tanned where his arms were visible through his tunic.
Behind him, a small crowd of other men, all strong-looking, waited
with fierce eyes. "I am no fool to let some foreign noble child walk
out with my money and my honor!" he shouted.

"You will have to, this time!"

There were murmurs from behind Aristoxenus, and one of the men threw
something at Palmris. The man who had offered Jack the wooden sword
now swung it upwards, intercepting a thrown jug. The jug shattered and
a ripe, vile smell erupted as fluids splashed from the shattered
ceramic.

Palmris stood there, droplets clinging to his face. "Gentlemen!" he
roared. "Aristoxenus and his men have sent us his water!" Palmris's
own men were now on their feet. "Let's send it back, and take his
blood instead!"

"Oh, man," Jack said, stepping back away from door even as
Aristoxenus's soldiers surged through and Palmris led his roaring men
to meet them. The tavern keeper was shouting, "Take it outside! Take
it outside!" but it was too late.

Chapter 6: The other world

Sappho's kiss lingered on her neck.

Annie shivered, convinced that she wanted to do this, convinced that
this was what The Librarian had sent her to do. She wasn't sure how
she should do it; certainly, she had never made love to another woman
before. She'd had the reliable three or four boyfriends, including the
one who had taken her virginity. Like any woman growing up in the 21st
century she couldn't deny that lesbian imagery had been part of her
high school years. She had never considered actually doing it, though.
Her high school friends hadn't seemed the type.

The pressure of the dancing circle was easing. The ecstatic ululations
that had ended the dance gave way to soft murmurs as women made
choices. Annie could tell that some of them made established pairs,
two women who had known one another for a long time and had long since
become comfortable with each other's ways. Others took longer as they
eyed each other, not warily but with hope, each hoping that the
other's promises would translate into gifts.

Annie turned. Sappho was slightly shorter than Annie, but she still
threw her arms over Annie's shoulders and pulled Annie close. Annie
hesitated.

"Have you never been intimate with a woman?" Sappho said.

"No," Annie said.

"Do you wish to be?"

Annie looked at Sappho's face, then suddenly leaned forward and kissed
the other woman. The closed-mouth kiss quickly became open-mouthed,
tongues greeting one another, mouths slick. Annie felt herself grow
moist between her thighs and her nipples throbbed under her tunic.

She pressed her body to Sappho's, and then Sappho's hands slipped down
her arms to her wrists. She took one hand and led Annie to a mat of
thick, woven reeds lain down on the cave floor. She tossed off her
tunic, her body bare to Annie's eyes.

Annie looked at Sappho and liked what she saw. Sappho's body showed
signs of premature age, the stress of her primitive civilization and
her flight from her homeland showing in heavy thighs and visible ribs,
in sunburn signatures on her skin and hair. Sappho appeared to Annie
as a kind of angel, a reification of determination, maturity, and
beauty.  Sappho's gesture of vulnerability inspired Annie to repeat
it. Her own tunic fell to the ground.

Sappho knelt backward, slowly dragging Annie down with her. Annie
winced as she landed on her knees with a solid thump, and then she was
above Sappho, looking down on the other woman. Was this a position men
liked, where they could look down into the faces of their beloved,
hold them close? She could imagine it. But she didn't have the
equipment for what a man would do next.

She would have to do something else. She lowered her mouth to Sappho's
collar, kissing skin. Sappho tasted of sea salt, body salt, and rare
oils. Annie liked what she tasted. Sappho whispered, "Sweet Annie,
what Goddess brought you to me?"

Annie tried to say, "A goddess of books," but her words were muffled
as she touched Sappho's belly and found the rich, full tangle of
Sappho's pubes. They were dark and spread everywhere. She had never
thought of what she might smell or taste like, and yet she was about
to kiss and taste another woman there. She lowered her mouth to
Sappho's pubes and tried to kiss Sappho without inhaling, but that was
not possible. She needed air. Sappho smelled of the sea, of morning
dawn, and Annie knew then that she could fall in love with Sappho and
stay here. She could, but she would not. She had a mission, and a
responsibility to Jack, and a better life her herself twenty centuries
in the future.

She kissed at Sappho's inner sanctum, and Sappho opened her thighs to
Annie's awkward intrusion. Sappho moaned as Annie found her clitoris
and licked at it, determined to give Sappho pleasure. Annie did this
with her fingers all the time, and knew what she liked.

Sappho said not a word, but her voice may as well have formed poetry
in whimpers of love and desire, of reaching for ecstasy and falling
away, time and again, until finally Sappho grasped an Annie's gift and
crested over the edge of pleasure, her whole body heaving and
thrusting.

Annie inhaled deeply as she raised her head. "You've brought the
Goddess to us, Annie," Sappho whispered. "You have a touch no man and
few women ever find within themselves." She reached down and pulled
Annie to her, and Annie kissed her again, this time with a tenderness
that welled up from deep inside her soul. She had never imagined she
could do this with a woman, but it really wasn't so different after
all. "And now, Annie, I shall reach to your gates and pray for the
goddess to touch you." She turned Annie onto her back and followed the
same map over different territory, ending between Annie's thighs, her
mouth open, her pink lips promising. "Such artistry, Annie, such
risk."  Annie wondered what Sappho was talking about and then she
remembered: she trimmed her pubes with scissors and kept it tame with
a razor. To these women, that must have been an exotic affectation.

Annie held her breath as Sappho's mouth touched down against her full,
liquid nether lips, and then Sappho's tongue was probing between,
deeper into her secret places. The last two missions had been Jack's
to complete, and now Annie was taking her turn. She moaned and let
herself be carried away. It was not just the physical sensations;
those were nice, but it was the woman doing them, the mystery of it,
the freedom and the promise of pleasure that the Librarian and Sappho
together granted her.

Annie's hands were in the oiled tangled of Sappho's rich, black hair,
holding on to the other woman as if every breath depended upon it.
Annie shivered as one after another preclimax pleasures darted through
her body, each one coming sooner and stronger than the previous until
she bear them no longer and she came with a high-pitched cry of
release and desperation.

Chapter 7: Worlds apart

Jack tried to stay out of the swirl of fighting, but he couldn't. A
man charged at him, roaring. Jack ducked, frightened, and the man
tripped over him and went sailing through the air to skid to a stop
against the stone wall.

He fell unconscious, and Jack hoped he wasn't dead.

The room had already become a melee' of big, sweaty men exchanging
punches, blocking blows with their forearms and their wrists. Jack saw
Palmris and Aristoxenus locked in hateful embrace, each shouting
epithets at the other. Palmris's knees buckled and suddenly
Aristoxenus was thrown into the air, shouting with something halfway
between rage and cheer.

Bodies shoved aside the crude furniture. A long table fell on its side
as men shouted and punched at one another. Another wine jug fell next
to Jack and shattered on the floor, covering him with its contents. He
jumped behind the long table and pressed his back to the wall, his
legs to the table to keep it from crushing him, and he hoped it would
all die away soon. From his vantage point he heard crashing, shouting,
the thick sound of fists striking.

His makeshift wall was pulled away and another man peered over it, a
man with a nose squashed flat from one to many fights just like this
one. "What have we here, a bug?" He grabbed Jack by the tunic. The
fabric bunched under Jack's arms as he lifted Jack to his knees, then
with both hands heaved Jack like a weapon at a melee of men near the
door. Jack's body was battered by fists and elbows as he fell on them,
knocking them over, but the door was there. Dazed, he picked himself
up off the floor and ran for it. A shouting soldier reached out to
grab his ankle. Jack stumbled and slammed face-first into the wall by
the door. "Ow!" he shouted, then fell against the door and out into
the dusty street. He lurched across the street and fell against the
wall of an adjacent building. Inside the tavern the fight went on.

Jack wondered if they would fight all night. It seemed to him that
they might, but eventually the fighting died away and men staggered
out into the streets, some bloodied, others holding bruises. Many
seemed to be laughing.

"Jack! Jack my friend!" Palmris stepped across the street and met
Jack.  "You are well?"

"My face hurts," Jack said.

"Ah, you were not successful in dodging every fist then?" Palmris
laughed and reached down with a hand.

Jack let himself be hauled to something resembling an upright stance,
then looked. "Why are you laughing? Those men tried to kill you!"

"Aristoxenus? Nah, Jack. That was a friendly barfight." Jack stared at
him. "He was angry because I won that contract and word had gotten out
that I made a lot of money. Did you not see one of his spies leave
while we were bragging about it?" Jack shook his head. "You're not a
very good spy yourself, then."

"Did you think I was a spy?"

"Your story isn't very believable, lad, and you and your sister do
make a queer couple. Aristoxenus was just letting off steam in a
friendly way, as men will do here in Greece."

"Poor bartender," Jack said.

"But that's part of it, Jack!" Palmris said. "My soldiers will have to
pay to set that right. Aristoxenus is just making sure that the money
we made gets put out to the people quicker, to the right people:
carpenters and potters and masons, rather than whores and-- " Palmris
glanced over his shoulder-- "tavernmasters. But come, Jack. You look
like you could use a beer, and there must be some left in the poor
man's stores."

Chapter 8: A scroll of wonders.

Annie lay on the reed mat, panting softly, looking up into the face of
the woman who had just done so much to her. She had never imagined
that pleasure could be so great, or so caring. She knew full well that
she would never be a lesbian (or a Lesbian). Back in her time, she
thought, she would never have been attracted to a woman, and probably
wouldn't in the future. There was something about the missions that
was liberating. She'd been free to do crazy things when she'd been
young, and this was just another kind of crazy thing. But now she knew
what she was capable of experiencing, and any boy who tried to touch
her had better have the skill and thoughtfulness to get her there
again.

Sappho smiled down at her. "Such a stage is on your face, Annie. What
dreams do the gods arouse within you?"

Annie shook her head. "Nothing important," she said. "Nothing that
will change the world."

"Do you have the power to change the world, Annie?"

"I might," Annie said. "Someday."

"Then, if you do, make sure that the world you change has a place of
women, and their love."

Annie thought momentarily that that mission was already accomplished,
that it was in some sense done. She didn't know the details-- that
wasn't her world, after all. For a moment, Annie had a shiver. Was
there a lesson here, in the way Sappho's world was separate from that
of Sicily, and the way "her" world, even in her own time, was separate
from all of the other worlds that shared the Earth of 2015? The
Librarian, she noted, was fond of lessons.

"The gods stir with you constantly," Sappho said. She leaned down and
kissed Annie's mouth. Annie kissed back, awkward and unsure that she
wanted to continue this dalliance. "That does not quiet them."

"No," Annie agreed. "I must ask of you a favor."

"You have given me a gift."

"You mentioned earlier that you had a poem to Anatikva. Could I...
Could I read it?"

Sappho closed her eyes and sighed with a strange pleasure. "Read it?
What a strange thing to ask. Where you come, poetry is read, not
heard?"

"Yes, I'm afraid that's right. Poetry is put into little books and put
on a shelf, and maybe sometimes we read them."

"And yet, where you come from the world is full of art and science,
you said."

"It's not easy to explain," Annie said. "And I don't think I should
try anymore."

"I will give you my poem," Sappho said. "Come with me." She reached
out a hand, and Annie took it. Sappho helped her pull the dress back
over her head, and together they walked the short distance from the
grotto back to Sappho's father's villa. Sappho led her into the
courtyard, and then into a smaller room. "This is my home."

There was not much to see that Annie was not familiar with. She saw
the harp again, and the bed looked comfortable enough. Sappho opened a
small wooden chest and pulled out a scroll. "This is the poem. These
are all my poems."

"But... Making copies--"

"I have copies. This is a gift I give to a few who... show they need
it."

In all her years as an agent of the Librarian, Annie had never felt
tears rise in her eyes quite the way she did now. They welled up so
strongly she almost thought of keeping the scroll for herself. She
knew that ultimately, she could not do that. She would put it in the
Library for the safekeeping of Eternity, and she would visit it from
time to time until she knew them all. "May I... may I read them now?"

Sappho nodded, her face happy as one woman to another who could read.
Annie had always known how strange her ability to read had been to all
of the ancient peoples they had known, but never before had the
ability itself brought joy to another. The Librarian had to know of
this gift, of this welcome knowing that she shared only with a
few. "Or I can read them to you."

Annie looked at the scroll, at its fine calfskin layer, and handed it
to Sappho. "Please?"

All night long and in the light of an oil lamp, Sappho held Annie in
an embrace of arms and words and beauty that were completely unlike
the lovemaking of the early evening. It was so empowering and
beautiful that Annie cried more than once, laughed several times, and
experienced moments of rapture so breathtaking she knew that
forgetting would be impossible. She read some of the poems aloud to
Sappho in her own halting way.

In the morning, she knew that giving the scroll to the Librarian would
be easy. She knew Sappho's magic within her heart now. It was not
unlike the spell she could weave over animals, and they over her. She
wondered if what she had felt in those hours were shared by
Sappho. She hoped so.

Dawn broke over the island nation of Sicily. A cock crowed, and Annie
almost laughed despite her exhaustion. She thought it such a silly
thing, so much a part of her own mythology, of Westerns with their
roosters. She wouldn't have thought to hear a rooster out here. But
she knew her duty now. "My brother and I... we have to go."

"I know. I did not expect you to stay. Your clothes and manners, even
your reading, say that you are not from here, now." Sappho smiled and
handed Annie the scroll. "Give your Librarian a hug from me, when you
see her."

Annie stared at her, unable to speak. She shouldn't have been
surprised. Of all the people that the Librarian could have known, it
made sense that Sappho might be one of them. She finally nodded.
"Come," Sappho said softly. "Let's go find your brother."

Jack was asleep in the male quarters of the household, lying on cot,
tongue hanging out of the side of his head. Annie grinned. They had
spent overnight on missions before, but they had always gotten sleep
together. This time Annie had stayed awake.

It would be two in the morning when they got home, if the treefort's
pattern of keeping time stayed true. If so, she would get half a
night's sleep-- and in some sense, so would Jack. She would live.
"Jack," she said softly. "Ja-a-a-ck."

"Wha?" He blinked up at her, looking sleepy. She wondered if he'd gone
to bed late, or if it was just the uncomfortable sleeping arrangement.
It did not look like the most comfortable of beds.

"Time to go," Annie said. As Jack rose she saw a bruise on his cheek.
"Oh, Jack! What happened to you?"

"A barfight," Jack said with a smile. "And I think I'm still a little
drunk."

"You smell like it. Are you okay?" Annie didn't know that her brother
had ever drunk before at all, but she certainly knew he didn't fight
in bars!

"I'm great," Jack said. "C'mon. You got it?"

Annie nodded, waving the scroll under his nose. His eyes followed it
with less than perfect acuity. He swayed slightly as he stood.

Sappho met them at the door. "I have something else for you," she
said.  "A friend left this here." She held out a black bracelet. "Take
it with you. Your friend might know what to do with it. It does not
belong here." Annie looked at it. It looked like simple plastic ring,
but the inside glowed. Annie held it up. The inside of the ring looked
like it was covered with green, white, and blue images, like some
strange distorted map.

"If you give it to us," Annie said. "We'll take it." She held open her
arms and embraced Sappho, and Sappho returned the embrace gratefully.

"Oh man," Jack said. "I was right."

Annie said, "Be quiet, Jack. Don't be mean."

"Such is the way of men," Sappho said, but she smiled as she said it.
"Go, both of you."

The tree was just a little bit outside Sappho's home compound, and
they found it easily. Annie told Jack to go first; in his inebriated
state, it was probably better if she stayed and watched him.

Inside, Annie opened the New Hampshire book. She glanced out the
window one last time, and then looked at the aerial photo of
Frogton. "I wish I could go home," she said, not entirely convinced
that she was telling the truth when she said it.

The wind began to blow. The treefort shook the palm leaves. "Bye,
Sappho," Annie said softly. Jack continued to look dazed. The roar of
the wind grew, louder and louder. The treefort seemed to spin rapidly,
faster and faster. The roaring grew until it blotted out all other
sounds, and then everything was still. Utterly still.

Jack was sober, and his bruise had faded to nothingness. Annie held
the scroll for a moment, like a memory, then put it down onto the
letter L.  "Did you have fun?" Annie said.

"It was better than the last one," Jack said.

"But you got hurt, Jack."

Jack touched his face where the bruise had been. "It healed. And I
learned something. And I bet you did, too." Annie nodded.

"Jack," she said, laying her hand on his, "It didn't change me." She
pointed to the scroll. "It was beautiful, but I don't know if I'll
ever do anything like that again."

"What do we do with the bracelet?"

"It wasn't in her instructions. We'll keep it, like we did last time,
and see what she says."

Jack nodded. "Let's go."

They descended down the rope ladder and walked home through the cold
but somehow comforting night.

-- 
Elf M. Sternberg, Immanentizing the Eschaton since 1988
http://www.pendorwright.com/

Elf's latest stories are available in paperback!  Buy
the genderbending novel _Sterlings_, available
now from http://stores.lulu.com/elfsternberg 

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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