To: Setha

"You'll be late for school!"
I opened a gloom eye. School!
"Get up, Sleep-a-Lotto! Be more long in comming and I'm late for work!"
Well, this was a mighty reason. I sat up in the bed and looked trough the window. A bright and sunny day, shiny as if it's July out there.
"Come on, Bez!"
"I'm coming, I'm coming!"
I slipped on the clothes, jammed some new "Shadowrun" workouts into the bag and jumped to the kitchen. I don't like using the shortcut - it's like you're tumbling into the nothingness and then you're retching - but when Dad is in hurry, you better be a fast guy too.
I was at the table just in time - he walked in, still tying his necktie. I was looked inquisitively all over, then Dad transferred me the pancakes and a glass of milk and sat to drink his coffee.
"We're at a Ritual this Saturday, remember?" - he took a toast.
I nodded and bite into my pancake.
"It won't hurt you to rehearse the songs some more!"
"I won't dare not to!" - grunted I with mouth full.
"Bez, it's your racial heritage, for God's sake! Your Aunt told me last week..."
I shook my head angrily. My aunts are awful. I'm bound to go visiting them every vacation. The Gathering is held at the old mansion - about ten kids as whole. Singsongs, herbal knowledge, small spells, bow shooting... Ugh! Some "racial heritage!". My Aunts think we're living in the Tolkien ages!
"And redo your ears!" - added my Dad.
Now, this made me flush. I don't usually forget this small detail. Just the summer affects me very bad - and we came back only three days ago! I muttered the spell and lifted up my hair, just in case.
"So, how's it now?"
"Quite good - he pointed. - But if I haven't seen it..."
"If there were tusks in my mouth, I wouldn't miss them!" - I grouled.
He eyed me reproachfully. Dad is a specialist at the reproachful looking. He is capable of freezing you up with these diamond blue eyes of his, without a louder word or even a wrinkle on his forehead.
I bite into another pancake. It would be really silly to go walking with my pointed ears. Well, at most a friend or two will ask why I'm disguised and when I'll put a earring at the tips too, but...
It's like you're born black or native American, or Chinese, or with bad luck. Dad often reminds it to me, when I'm down a bit. It's true - even it's better in some respects: than to be unlucky, let's say. And, besides, we don't grow hair on Full Moon and don't have teeth sticking from the mouth. A big advantage, that's it. Oh, Dad says these are... well, the stories exaggerate a little. It has to be so - take Snow white as an example. Or Tarzan if you'd like. I'm just ready to believe that by coincidence the two most beautiful women on the world are living in a same kingdom or that a kid, which is risen by the monkeys may become a more or less normal person!
Anyhow. Some people have dark skin, some - reddish than the others; some are yellowish and some are born with bad luck. But then we are elves.
"Are you ready yet?"
I nodded.
I always feel kind of stupid when Dad drives me to school. It's ten minutes walk, for God's sake; and I usually take a hike. Only at winter, when it's too cold, I'm waiting for the buss. But times and again Dad is shone by a good mood and he drives me. He's a bank director - very perspective job for an elf, good heavens! - and so he owns this big butter-green car which engine purrs like a tiger. I'm feeling really stupid on the front seat: luxury, quality leather aroma, dark green upholsteries, shiny windows and inside - me, with all my ragged jeans and shaggy mane.
We stopped not more than two steps from the entrance.
"Good luck" - Dad nodded me and gracely entered back the traffic. I waved him - just in case.
An old Buick drove into the newly freed place. The school was starting any moment, so there were students hurrying all around me. I took few steps but stopped. The Buick's door opened.
"Take care!" - quietly but clear said a woman's voice.
"Right, Mom, I'll be careful!" - another quiet voice answered and a girl sneaked off the back seat.
I don't know why my sixth sense sometimes starts jingling as a broken guittar. I wouldn't look her second time without it - she was small, nondescript, feeble and somehow too pale, her hair cut low as if she was just released from the infantry. She was wearing ragged jeans (too big) and baggy T-shirt. Just an ordinary girl. She fished out a ragged bag - old jeans sewed up, my-my, very original! - and just for a second I sow the corner of a book cover: Shadowrun, second edition.
I shrugged and got to pass her, but the damned sixth sense continued vibrating in my head. I gave up and approached the girl, which was still looking around, handing the bag.
"Hi!" said I mildly. Who knows, I could startle her with that raincoat and knee-high boots and shaggy mane of mine; I wasn't aiming at such effect at all.
She eyed me, smiled - she has amber eyes and beautiful smile - and answered.
"Well, hi! You're too fond of Shadowrun, aren't you?"
"True!" - I grinned too. "You're new here, aren't you?"
"Yeah, I'm on trial, for the first semester only. Until Xmas, and then we'll see. I'm Setha."
"The Elf" - I took her bag gallantly. - "Well, will we be entering? What is your favored role?"
"The Decker" - She smiled shyly. "You do have a club here, don't you?"
My Dad says it's a bad taste, but I'm called The Elf at school. Because of Shadowrun. That's my favored RPG. I lead the games at the club sometimes - I have, modestly said, the power of words - but I prefer to appear in the face of a hero. My own. These are the only place and time when I may be a real elf. And to do the things I like. An elven sorcerer named Bezar - this is me. Well, in the world of Shadowrun only. At the reality I'm just dressed up like from the picture in the manual. I like it and besides, it gives me the right to manifest my racial heritage. I feel like I'm somebody. I mean: we, the elves, neither have a way to tell the world who we are, neither it could be safe - or so my Dad says. Now, I agree with that. But nobody can stop me pretending I'm a false elf. It's cool. And the chicks are on. And if judged by the way Setha was eyeing me, she wasn't an exception. I grinned and lead her to the school.
That's how we met. The same afternoon I introduced her to the other runners. She was from Denver and she was ready with a joining story for her character, I liked that - she wasn't creating a new face; obviously she was playing with S.E.T.I., an ogre, years long. So, S.E.T.I. failed an operation and went on a run. And here she is with us, with no money, no recommendations and no connections. Superb!
"I haven't been playing for almost an year now" - Setha admitted frankly. "There weren't many players at the place I was until recently. But I ate all the manuals together with the covers and was playing some scenarios alone. It will be a pleasure for me, you see, to have somebody to..."
Well, she was out of shape, of course, but appeared to be quick in mind and full of ideas. At last I asked her to a pizza and for a talk.
"Why an ogre?" inquired I while we was drinking our cokes between the drawn on the napkins charts and outlines.
"Because you can't judge an ogre by its beauty only" answered Setha at once. "You see, if you're an elf or even a human, the others by definition know she's good-looking; you have to describe her really ugly and even so they won't feel it. It's not like that with the ogres."
"I didn't choose the elf because of the good looks!"
"You've chosen it because of you" she agreed. "You look like an elf, haven't you seen it? You'd look like it even if you're not disguised especially! Anyhow, it's not only that. Homo Sapiens Robustus are strong and mighty, have many kids... but their life is short. I like that. You see, I want S.E.T.I. to die of old age!"
"Not very probably" I grinned.
"Yeah, for the elves!"
There is written in the manual of Shadowrun that the elves live through a couple of senturies, the dwarves - about a hundred, the men - 55 of average, the trolls - to 50 and the ogres - to only 35-40. It's not much, if you think about it. That's true.
I walked her home after the pizza. I wanted to see her previous games' notes about S.E.T.I. to know what to include in the next scenario, when I'm on the lead. But when we entered the house, all of it was forgotten. There was a big painting on the wall just opposite the door: lake shore at sundown. It was so real as if I could reach and touch the reeds.
"I painted it" - Setha said. "Last year. What do you think?"
"Well... Why aren't you at painter's school?"
"I'll be quite well here, thanks!" she laughed.

It was Saturday and I was lolling in the bed. In Saturdays Dad doesn't torture the stove but goes to the bakery for some French muffins. He's not working either, so we have breakfast together. It's quite boring sometimes, because of his intention to talk about the Elven withing us. So I wasn't feeling like getting up.
I felt his magic checking if I'm waken. Whe he got sure, he called from below.
"You've got mail!"
It should be something important or he wouldn't be using magic. So I got up.
To be an Elf, I suppose, is more like to be Muslim or proven vegetarian - we too, like the vampires and the werewolves and such, are occult creatures. Only that - as I said before - we don't grow hair on Full moon and don't sleep in coffins. We're more like the lepricones. I mean I can't eat some greens and don't endure some flowers. Well, you have to carry your own cross, as the humans say. Besides, I think our magic abilities are cooler than the vampires and werewolves'. Thus said, I prefer not to bite the people but make love to them as an elf (that is divinely way - so Dad says). And to have a real poetic power of words. Homer had been an elf, believe me! Like me! Well, we also have other, real magics. Nothing special - just a bit of jumping between places, some small objects transfering, things like that. We can read thoughts at close or make up our ears or know the weather for tomorrow... It's just that the real magic is exhausting, that's why I have to make my ears every morning. And that's why we must use spells only in special occasions.
I bent over the rails.
"Are there any muffins?"
"Of course! - Dad chuckled. "Are you coming or not?"
The envelope next to my plate was plain white and very ordinary on sight, but the address... I first got a muffin and then opened the letter.
FASA CORPORATION
Dear Sir,
Your short stories are quite nice. Unfortunately we don't have interest in that kind of prose. However we think it possible that some of the themes and conceptions worked in the stories to be developed to a full sized novel. If you are agree, we would like to see a conceptual workout for such a product and if the editors approve it, we may make a contract with you.
For a couple of seconds I was looking blindly at the text. They weren't having interest in my stories. But a novel was wanted from me. Jesus, I never have tried to write a big thing!
I was shaking, so I slowly dropped the letter on the table.
"Is it that bad? The next rejection?" Dad was eyeing me inquisitively.
"Much worse. It's an offer!"
"Bez, that's great!"
"Do you really think so? Can I write a novel at all?"
"For God's sake, you're an elf!" Dad carelessly ruffled my forelock. "Why don't you go over to your girlfriend to tell the good news?"
"They were going to Denver, as far as I know. To visit her father"
"You aren't dating her, are you?" The question was surprising and sounded like if an old Jew was interested if his son was dating a non-Jew.
"No" answered I frankly. "We're just friends"
I wouldn't say me and Setha were inseparable, even if we spent very much time together. Still, four or five afternoons weekly we were staying at one's or other's house and we tried to alternate the homes for not to angry the parents... and not to feel at somebody's own terrain too. No, we were not intimate friends - nothing like that! We were partners and aides. When you have found somebody else who's like the other half of yourself, you're not interested by the gender. Or the race, if that's the question. We were just very well fitting halves.
"It's normal for you to date girls" Dad leaned across the table. "I would be glad to have suitable elves around here, but you see enough of us in the summer at least..."
"More than enough, please!" I waved my half-eaten muffin. "I know that lecture by hart! The elves shouldn't waste themselves with ordinary people, because they aren't like us! They won't understand the gift we have. Won't understand us. They won't have children by us. And, besides, our duty is to continue the kind, so when the time comes, I'll be married to a beautiful elven girl. I know my lesson, I told you! I was dating humans and probably will continue doing so in the next years, I can't stay alone like a cuckoo. But Setha is something absolutely different!"
That closed the question for him. But not for me. I can't shut my eyes forever, can I? I know I'm an elf. Maybe I'm not very handsome by the elven standards, and, frankly, the human women don't fascinate me - it's true I meet more than enough elven girls with my Aunts and I have make the distinction by now. But I can't shut my eyes. I know how Setha is looking at me. Oh, yes, she's quite nice and very kind to me, and never ever have bothered me. But I can guess what are her dreams at night, when she clutches the pillow to her breasts. I'm afraid that at the end - and because of that - I'll loose my best friend ever. Because we're due to open that question someday. But not right now.
Fill of nerves, I ate my muffin. Why Dad should bring up that theme today and spoil my mood? I got up and went to phone.
Setha's Mom answered me at the second ringing.
"Howdy, Bezar!" I like her voice, it's hot like summer rain. "Setha was just wondering if you're free today. We'll be travelling next week - her father is busy today"
"Great!" I grinned. " I mean, it's awful... May I drop by? Right now?"
"You're welcome"
I gave my father a meaningful look, took the raincoat off the loop and went out.
I found Setha at the small attic she had remade to a studio of hers. She was drawing a portrait of an ogre - probably S.E.T.I.'s.
"I was thinking of a new adventure" she said, without laying down the brush. "Do you remember that story about the credit codes in the Matrix?"
"What do you say if we convert it to a novel?" I answered and held her by the shoulders. "I have a good news".
"Which is?"
I showed her the letter.
"Great God!" she laughed, turned and kissed my cheek. "I can't believe it! You're great!"
"Oh, yeah - almost! Just that I'm scared to death! I haven't ever wrote such a big thing!"
"You can't say there's not enough material! I'll even help you, if you don't mind!"
"That's why I'm here!"
"Well, it's settled then. I'll just finish here... Will you go and tell Mom to make some coffee? We'll need it, if we're to write a conception for a novel!"
I nodded and left her dealing with the shades on the S.E.T.I.'s tusk - the crooked one.

SHADOWS IN THE ICE - conception
BEZAR GOLDLEAF
"Necronomicon" - a magic joint, retrograde shadowrunners' bar. The Elf is hanging out there and thinks about the facts of life, which aren't very pretty. S.E.T.I. - and ogre - enters and says she is in search of a skilled mage on percentage payment. The Elf is the only one who's feeling low enough to agree working for a future promises. And so the Destiny ties together two represents of races with traditional mutual hatred, which comes to a temporary armistice...

It was cold as hell in the last couple of days, and there came snow at the evening. Still, when I got up at the morning and sow the whitened town, my hart jumped. The first snow at last! It was the middle of November - just in time! The best from the winter is you can go anywhere without obstacles like damned petunias, let's say. Sleds, slides, hmmm!
I put frantically my pullover on and went breakfasting before school. Passing by, I took the new pages of the novel.
O, yes. We were writing the nover! And it was going quite well. At least two pages a day: we discussed the lines all the time and even started missing some of the "lessons" in the club. It was going to be a good book - I was seeing it! But I couldn't possibly cope with it without Setha. If I was in trouble, she always hurried to help me and offer something fresh and new. Sometimes we played over the situations, at other times we just reread the written and searched for possibilities...
"What do you want for dinner?" Dad asked and passed me the milk. "I think to..."
"I'll be with Setha".
He nodded.
I drank my milk, shoved the pages into the bag and walked outside to wait for the buss. I like hiking to school - it's ten minutes walk! - but in the cold days...
The Setha's Mom car passed before the buss did.
I worked my way into the back seat - she was always traveling at the back - and enthusiastically started babbling about the ideas I go... two blocks later I stopped on the middle of the phrase. Something was wrong. Both my sixth and all other senses are hinting at it.
"What's up?" I asked and looked around. Setha, limp in the corner by the far door, was eyeing me mildly. Her mother, as always, was slumped over the steering wheel as if she didn't trust herself, even if she wasn't such a bad driver at all.
"Everything's fine" Setha said.
"Oh, no, it's not! Something's going on!" I shook my head. "For God's sake!"
"I just don't feel well" she shrugged. "Mom will drive me to the hospital, that's all. But we'll drop you by the school."
I was worried about her - she missed all the classes. But she came for the club's meeting and played as always: crafty, talented and winning.
"S.E.T.I. may even meet a natural death!" I joked while walking Setha to the car.
"Maybe. Who knows?"
It was quite a lone evening. I wasn't supposing today will be an "empty" day, but didn't inflicted my company to Setha. She was looking kind of pale and wasn't in the right mood anyway. So I just sat in front of the computer, the window to the Shadowrun world opened and I dived in the life of The Elf and S.E.T.I. I was on the tenth page for today when Dad came to scold me around midnight.
Everything was normal for the next two days, even if Setha was kind of absent-minded sometimes. Then she dissapeared again and didn't come for the meeting. When we finished the game, I went to get some pizza, but the bad feelings didn't want to leave me at all. Something was wrong - God knows what, but something wasn't as it has to. In the begining I was planning to go home and write, and later call Setha and see what's up, but at the end I went back to the school.
Sometimes it has its advantages to be an elf. When I'm feeling low I always dream of a bank robery - catch me if you can, stupid pricks! I'm not exactly invisible and I can't pass right through walls but... Let's say that I can jump through a wall with the cost of headache and some chocolates. Or, as it was the case, go jumping through a locked door. It's not exactly like in Startreck, but it suits me. The only problem is it needs more time and efforts than to jump between the bedroom and the kitchen. Anyway, I stood under the school surgery, murmured the spell and here I am inside. I didn't needed to turn on the lights - one of the elvish advantages is that you can see in the dark. It was easy as a pay to unlock the files. Someday, when I'm really in need of money, I should try the town bank.
I shuffled trough the files and got the one of Setha. There it was, right on the first line - the one I should have seen weeks ago and the one my sixth sense was warning me all the time. Kick on the ass, that's what I deserved!
She had had therapy and three operations already. She missed almost two years. Small wonder she hadn't had playmates - who's interested in that at the hospitals? She obviously was permitted to go back to school, somewhere in a smaller town and in quieter surroundings... But the danger still existed. And continued...
I closed the file and returned it to its place. Jumped out on the yard. Went at the street. Stopped by the store to get some chocolates - and into the drugstore for aspirin. The headache was hellish this time.
Setha again didn't showed to the classes at the next day and, even if feeling quite uncomfortable, I called her Mom the same evening.
"She's at the hospital, doing some examinations. Scener and things like that. She'll be back tomorrow and I suppose she'll be back at school the next day."
"Is she all right?"
"We don't know for the moment"
"Is it caner again?"
For an elf even the silence on the other side is enough.
"Pass her my greetings!" I begged and broke up the connection.
I had a very thoughtful evening. Not a like of Shadows was written, I was just staring the last clause from yesterday, deep in reflection. S.E.T.I., who isn't beautiful and will live shortly. You look like an elf. Looks and touches. The thoughts of S.E.T.I. when she's talking about her strange alliance before the ogres in her gang.
At the end I decided I'm right and beseeched Dad for a five. I ordered flowers - lasting orchids in a special box. I wrote a poem on the card. Later the poem went to the trashcan and the orchids were changed for chrysanthemum, even if I personally don't endure them.
When Setha was back, it was like nothing changed at all. We were working together again, even more often than before; we were a great team. I was touching her sometimes: my hand on her knee, my hand on her waist, a loose embrace. I was waiting to know.
"I have to tell you something" Setha started one evening, while we were waiting for her mother to come and pick her up/
"Wait!" - I pulled her closer and kissed her. On the mouth. The way elves kiss.
She hugged me and huddled shivering and breathless.
"Should we repeat it?" I offered, smiling.
"No, I really must tell you something. I... I have cancer. Next week they'll put me in hospital."
"I love you!"
After than her mother came.

I chose the afternoon my father went to a business trip. It was just perfect. We had a club meeting after the classes, as usual, but I sneaked Setha out before it.
"I have something to show you!" I inquired. "It's important!"
"I prefer to play some more! Tomorrow I'm going in, you know?"
"I know. And it's because of it!"
We entered my house and went up to my bedroom.
"The novel?" she guessed. "Have you written something more? You haven't read it to me since God knows when!"
"Since that kiss" I grinned. "Yes, I have written more. Much more. But I'm close to the climax and I prefer not to show it right now. I'll be visiting you at the hospital. Let's save it for then!"
"You're more confident than before!" she smiled. "Maybe you'll be doing alone your next novel!"
"Maybe" I shook my head. "Stay right here, I'll be back shortly. Do you want coffee?"
As I said before, I don't like using magic, but I have to now. Until the coffee got ready, I transfered the green suite to the kitchen and dressed in it. I made my hair right. And the ears too. And transfered also the old family bow of ours. At the end I transfered the tray and the coffee up to the bedroom's table. Setha wouldn't notice it - not after I walk in the room.
Frankly said, I was feeling stupid. I use this suite only at Rutuals and even so I don't think it's the right place. The elves are shown this way at the book covers; that is not me, for God's sake! But I had to play my role to the end.
So I opened the door and stopped on the threshold with the bow in one hand. Setha turned to me and stared. We was looking each other more than a minute before I took a step ahead.
"Great!" she murmured. "Where did you found that ears? And the clothes?"
"All mine!" I grinned. "I'm contempted to pierce for earring here" I moved the ear tips "but I'm not conviced I may do the holes myself and the people from the studio won't be glad to get me..."
"You look like a real elf!" she sighed. "You're so handsome!"
"I am a real elf" I sat on the bed next to her. "Which is the secret I wasn't supposed to share... but I think now I can"
She laughed.
"Coffee?"
We drank. I haven't felt so awkward since many years. Exactly, since that summer adventure with Iris on the meadow... Still, I owed it to Setha. Or at least I thought so. So I put the cup down, held Setha in my arms and kissed her second time. Then I transfered both my and her clothes by the corner.
"Oh" she jumped startled.
"Say nothing!" I held her tightly and continued with the kissing, while pushing her backward and at last put her lieing on the blanket.
"I'm a virgine" whispered Setha in my ear.
"I know" I answered quietly. "Don't worry"
She got thinner in the last couple of weeks. I leaned over and looked her with eyes narowed. A writer, told I myself, would surely have enough imagination to use in the life! I narrowed my eyes some more. And sow her beautiful. I flinged open her thights and bent to kiss one of her small, oval, firm breasts. While slowly diving into her body, I whispeder her elven poems. And I myself was creating a poem with every push which shook us both united into one whole. For a moment Setha moaned and red blood trickled on by hips, but the song was already lifting her to heaven. I slowly, easily lift us up while continuing to sing and read as we were spinning through the primary elven dance and the room around us was diluting and giving way to the shadows of great golden-leafed trees who sang along my ancient songs. She was blindingly beautiful and was a part of me, and we roamed the gorgeous eternity, together into the unresistable sorcery... And that love of ours was words and melody, and the words and music were love.
I walked her home early on the next morning. Her mother never asked what we did alone whole night. I think she knew. And I think she was grateful to me.
I visited Setha at the hospital almost every day. We worked over maps and scenarios. We talked about her coming back; the universities she'll applicate next year; and how we'll search for new home for us... She draw a little when feeling better. And I was writing the novel at the evenings.
I finished it just before Xmas, then made a copy and took it to her - the perfect gift. She was operated four days ago; I read it aloud to her. At least the end. S.E.T.I. and The Elf succeeded to scrounge the data. She was hurt badly and the doctors almost lost her. But they left together the illegal hospital. And still were friends and aides, even if the hit was over now.
I had even wrote her a poem - for after the second operation. It was on 29. But she just couldn't live through it. Setha never came back from the аnaesthesia. Then: coma, artificial breathing aparatus... They switched it off at 31. Her mother called me early morning 1-st to tell me Setha died. After the funeral I received a brown paper package and there was a portrait in it: a handsome elf with green clothes and ready to shoot bow. He has my face, and there were the golden woods of our love behind him.

It's like you're born with black skin, or red, or yellow... or unlucky. My Dad always reminds me of that when I feel completely low. It's true, it's even better in some respects: than be unhappy, that is. Besides, we don't grow hair at Full Moon and have no tusks protruding from the mouth. But I would prefer to be a vampire or werewolf - then I could have bitten her and given her my life. We, the elves, are magical creatures too, but our powers are of another kind.
I loved her and sang a song.

Close this window