Worlds Without End

3

Dreams, only dreams.

But I suspected they weren't. I'd had premoni- tions like this before. Before the Great Ghost Dance in 1888. And again before the one in 2014. Before the first VITAS plague. Before the start of goblinization in 2021. Each time I'd seen what was to come and I couldn't stop it.

Oh I'd tried, but the others weren't willing to lis- ten. But they rarely thought about the consequences of anything that was happening. It has been that way for far too long. They've forgotten. Or didn't believe the danger was so close at hand.

I was so engrossed with my morbid thoughts that by the time I looked up, I'd gone onto my neigh- bor's property. He was a surly bastard and hated the fact that he had an elf for a neighbor. What was it he called me? Ah yes, a pointy-eared, pencil-necked, daisy-eating nigger. The last I assumed had to do with my skin color. It took every ounce of self- restraint I had not to slowly pull his tongue out his hoop the hard way.

But the Brits had an annoying habit of frowning upon murder. Especially when it involved a human and any sort of "meta" being. However, there were plenty of elves among the nobility in the UK, and I actually had good relationships with them. I hated to bum karma with them on someone who would be more annoyed by my continuing presence.

I turned and made my way back to the house. The fog had burned off finally and it was looking to be a rare sunny day. My security system let me back in with a cheery, "Good morning. It's October 20, 2056. The temperature is 9 Celsius outside…" It 21

rambled on and on, and once again I reminded my- self to have the thing removed. But I always forgot. So tomorrow it would be the same, "Good morning. It's October 21, 2056. The temperature is… blah blah blah."

As I pulled off my boots in the mud room, I found myself whistling an old tune. Well, maybe not whis- tling, more a tuneless wheeze.

Look on the bright side of life… dee, dah, dee dee deedilty dah.

I couldn't remember any more of the words. That used to drive Caimbeui crazy when we were to- gether. My inability to remember more than a few snatches of lyrics from any song. Sometimes I even got the words wrong. What was that called? Oh, yes, mondegreens.

The kitchen was warm and I set the kettle on to boil on the flat heating element. I went upstairs and started the water for a bath. Stripping out of my clothes, I grabbed my robe and wrapped it around me. The kettle had begun to whistle and I went downstairs to fix tea.

In a few moments I had a tray all set to take up- stairs. Sheer decadence to dispel the night fears. Tea and scones while taking a hot bath. Maybe later I'd read-from a real book with pages.

I'd just settled into the tub when the telecom beeped. Happens every time. As the machine picked up, I heard Caimbeul's voice.

"Aina, I know you're there," he said.

I gave a universal gesture for contempt and went back to drinking my tea. I hadn't heard word one from him in eight months. Frag him if he thought I was going to get out of a nice warm bath.

"Look," he said. "I'm en route to the UK. I should be landing in about an hour. Things have been happening. Things you need to know about. I have it all under control now, but we need to talk. I'll be up to Arran in about four hours."

I closed my eyes. The uneasiness that I'd almost dispelled was back. For Caimbeui to come here out of the blue meant something was up. Something big. The dreams came back to me. I shivered. The water had gone cold and I suddenly didn't like lying there naked and vulnerable.

Quickly, I finished washing my hair and got out of the tub. As I dressed, I tried not to dwell on Caimbeul's unexpected visit. Whatever the reason for it, I would know soon enough.

And I doubted the news would be good.

It is dark.