After several more demonstrations, all as exciting as the first to Xarhn, Zamani set the stones aside and drew forth new treasure. He set before the girl one large piece of dried shroom meat and two small chunks of carish meat. Both meats were white, but not very. He named them and gave the larger carish to Xarhn. The meat was hard and waxy, but Xarhn was much pleased with the flavor. She eyed the larger portion of shroom even as the last of the Carish slid down her throat.

Her black eyes sparkled widely as he pulled off a slab of shroom and placed it in her purple hands. The chewy shroom was like nothing she had ever tasted. Zamani looked on with joy, for she relished each bite, and was pained to swallow the last mouthful.

“Who gave you all these wonders?” she asked, sitting back on her heels.

Zamani lost his broad smile. “I need no one to give me what is mine.” He thumped his chest with an indignant fist. “I pick the meats; I gather Sweet. Only I have the fire stones.”

“And your cap?” she asked, impervious to his ire.

“Trophy of the kill. Blue quill mocked me; I killed him and took his mantle for my prize.”

She answered with a blank expression, saying, “I don’t understand.”

“Silkhead!” he gibed.

“Well, I’ve never heard of blue quill. All I learn, I know, but this blue quill I’ve not learned.”

Hitching a thumb over his shoulder, Zamani explained, “Blue quill is a creature of the forest.”

He stopped short as Xarhn gasped and placed a hand over her mouth. Her body pulsed with white and orange. Zamani had slipped up, said too much. He felt uncomfortably guilty.

“You’ve been to the forest?” she managed at last to ask.

Zamani despised his discomfort. Who was this girl to make him feel this way? His ire rose up again into his chest. He clenched his jaw against the burning. Curse the girl!

He spat his answer at her, “I live there.” He allowed time for the news to sink in. “The nhola is my home; it is my kingdom.” He spread his arms expressively and crowed, “In the forest, Zamani rules.”

She did not seem as duly impressed as he had hoped. She only asked, “And you kill forest monsters?”

Zamani slumped back and answered, “When they annoy me.”

Jumping suddenly to her feet, Xarhn cried out, “The barrier! You’ve broken the barrier. Now, the monsters will free themselves.” She was completely white.

Zamani leapt up and drew Xarhn into his arms. It was something he had seen the adult Shee do to give comfort.

He whispered the healing word into her ear. Then he told her, “Be still, foolish female. The barrier cannot be broken.”

“But . . .”

He assured her, “I am king of the nholas; I pass through as I will.”

Pushing him from her, she argued, “No! No, Sith do not just pass through the barrier. They would leave us.”

He countered, “Well, there you are, silkhead. Have I left? Am I a ghost?”

Xarhn had become volatile. Zamani could barely keep pace with her changing colors. Red chased white; orange and yellow swirled into each other to become one. She stamped back and forth in wild disbelief, pummeling the dull green cleg, at last wheeling to face him squarely.

“Very well!” she demanded. “Very well, then. Show me.”

“Hah! You don’t even know where the barrier is.”

“I do so!”

He dared the girl with a big smile, with a broad gesture. “Touch it; show me where to pass.”

She flooded red with fear. “I will not,” she said defiantly. “If you came through, you can find your way back.”

Zamani laughed. “Fine. So you really don’t know.”

Her reds deepening, she strode purposefully to the opening in the berribits that Zamani had come through. She plucked a ripe fruit and tossed it in demonstratively. The berribit rolled to a stop five hands inside the barrier. She knew, and she knew that she knew.

Zamani did not relish the prospect of jumping through again so soon; the sting of the barrier was worse than any ten zeos. Yet, Xarhn had left him with but two options: to cross the barrier, or surrender to a girl.

“Prove it, or move it,” she dared. “If you will but walk to the fruit, I will believe all that you say.”

“Fine.”

He filled his shroomsack and tucked it smartly under one arm, then he walked without hesitation to the berribit. With his back to the girl, Zamani whispered the word of power, thankful his knees did not weaken. The sting faded almost at once. He pulled the bag over his head by the strap and affixed it to his waistband. He picked up the fruit, turned, and tossed it to her, the expression of ‘I told you so’ on his smiling face.

“You did it!” She exclaimed. “You walked through the barrier.”

“Told you. Now, it’s your turn.”

She took a step back and answered, “I don’t think so. I’m convinced, not stupid.”

“Then, I must go,” Zamani proclaimed.

“Oh! Wait,” she pleaded, nervously nearing the barrier, “will you return?”

“Perhaps.”

“This morning next?”

He shrugged and spread his arms.

“Midday next,” she added hastily, “I go to school. Will you come?” His hesitance spurred her forward. “Oh, please say you will. Please.”

He asked, “What is school to me?”

Her hope a little brighter, she answered quickly, “We’ll have so much fun, Zamani. I promise. Teller is old and wise; you can ask him anything. We’ll have song and dance; dance is my favorite. Oh! And midday next is clothing day. We can dress up in whatever we make. Please say you’ll come. Please, please, please . . .”

Zamani was curious. He asked her, “What will you wear for clothing day?”

At that, Xarhn cast down her eyes and scuffed a toe in the dull green cleg. Clasping hands behind her back, she unwillingly submitted, “Well, I did make a sedge cap. It’s a really nice cap, but . . . I’m kind of stumped. Mother’s not allowed to help.”

“Then, I will come,” declared Zamani.

Xarhn looked up brightly, hugging herself, and bouncing gaily upon her toes. Her laughter was glad, yet still showed uncertainty. She said, “Oh, good! Great! Promise?”

Zamani promised, “I’ll be here at low light. Bring only your paitcap of sedge, and I will bring you something special to wear.”

“Ooh! Promise?”

“I promise,” said he, turning to leave.

“I’m so happy! Just wait till they hear . . .”

“No!” snapped Zamani, turning back. “Keep my secret or I will not come.”

“But . . .”

“But. But.” he mocked, “If something say you must, tell them I visit from Zhereen.”

“I will. I promise.”

As he turned again to leave, he looked back over his shoulder and quietly commanded, “Remember.”

“I promise.”