"Why are we here?" Caimbeui asked. I had been waiting for him to get around to it, but I was sur- prised it took him so long. Perhaps he had gained some patience over the years.

"I wanted to get in touch with Thais," I said. "When last we spoke, he was in this area."

"Thais?"

"My child."

After I left Europe and Caimbeul's warm em- brace, I came to America. I was achingly lonely for him, a fact that, in retrospect, seems rather foolish and trivial. But there it was. The rumors of the Great Ghost Dance had brought me here, or so I told my- self. What I was really about was trying to forget Caimbeui and make something new out of my life.

I took a westbound train from New York to Saint Louis. Then I caught a stage to Sioux Falls. I knew Wovoka (he also used the Anglo name Jack Wilson, I recall) had convinced the Sioux that they had to use the great ritual magics to rid themselves of the whites and bring down retribution on their heads. He was right, of course, but wrong about the time.

The world wouldn't have enough magical energy in it for another hundred and thirty years.

But what concerned me was the news of his "vi- sions." He claimed that God was sending him mes- sages. I suspected there was another explanation, one I hated to consider: Thais.

I thought I'd stopped this passion of Thais's for popping up and causing mystical visions in magical- thinking cultures, but he was at it again. As I rode on the stage, my spine feeling as though it were be- ing pounded through the ill-sprung seat and dust and dirt settling into everything I owned, I hoped I was early enough to put a stop to things before they blew out of hand.

By the time I reached Batesland, news was al- ready making its way east about the massacre at Wounded Knee. I was too late.

It didn't stop me from looking for Thais. I knew I needed to rein him in again. How I hated the thought of another confrontation with him.

"I was wondering when you would come."

Thais.

He was hidden in the shadows of a low-hanging outcropping of rock. I wanted to see him, but, as if he knew that was my wish, he remained back in the darkness.

The wasted scenery of the Badlands spread out around me. It reminded me too much of how the world was after the Scourge. And to see Thais here, in this ruined place made me sad and angry at the same time. I'd told Thais that the world was not the one he had grown accustomed to. That he must learn to change-but he refused.

My child.

Even after all these many centuries, I still worried about him. Wanted to know that he was safe. Would he ever forgive me for bringing him into a world that would never understand him?

"Hello, Thais," I said. "I see you've been busy."

Thais shrugged and looked a bit bewildered. "I don't understand," he said. "The magic should have worked." A frown crossed his face and I wanted to hold him and comfort him, but I knew that would not be allowed. It frightened me sometimes, how much he grew like his father.

"Magic isn't as powerful now," I said. "You know that. Why did you lead them to this destruction?"

"They loved me," Thais said. "It was just like in the old days. They looked at me and they didn't see a monster-they saw me. I was trying to help them. All they wanted was to have their land back. I could give that to them." He looked mournful. It made my heart ache. "I should have been able to give them that."

"Once," I said, "you might have. But no more. Those days are gone. Thais, you must stop this. I know what you've been doing. Those stone heads they dug up in the bed of the Trinity River. From the Pleistocene. I heard them described as obviously not human. My god, Thais, it was you. How could you have let them see you revealed?

"And what about Indochina? At least you tried to disguise your shape, but a seven-headed snake god?

I've told you that we aren't to interfere. There's too much at risk. What if they'd discovered what you re- ally are? They might have killed you."

"I'm as hard to kill as my parents," he said, bit- terly. "I am what you've made me. There is no place in this or any other world where I may live peace- fully. Why did you make me?"

I looked away. Thais was right, of course. He never should have been born. But I was mad at the time. Out of my mind with remorse and grief. Self- ish Aina.

"You must not do this again," I said. "It will only end in ruin. If not for you, then for your followers. Even now, when the magic is at a low ebb, you still, by your nature, have some power. Why don't you use it responsibly?"

"Oh, that's rich," he said, laughing harshly. Even so, it made me want to hold him and gaze into his eyes. Such power in my child. "You-talking about responsibility. You don't have the right."

"Mark my words, Thais. These tragedies will con- tinue if you don't do something about it."

"What would you have me do. Mother? Exile my- self to some mountaintop the way you did? Hide myself and live in isolation until the world is some- thing else again? I need them and they need me. You cannot imagine how I feel when they look at me and love me. When they fall to their knees and beg for my blessing and I give it to them. I was born to be a god. To be adored and worshipped. You can't take that away from me."

"I'm not trying to take anything away from you…"

"You took my father away."

"Don't be a fool, Thais," I said. "That was an ac- cident of birth."

He shrugged and looked away. I knew there was no use discussing this further. Thais had shut off from me, and nothing I could do or say would make any difference. How I wished that things could be different between us, but I knew I could as much wish for the moon for all the good it would do me.

And so we stood there, in that bare and barren place, divided by worlds and walls and the past that could never be undone.

She floats in a warm embrace. Hands touch her. Stroke her. Caress her until she trembles. Opening her eyes, she sees a faceless man. This doesn't frighten her-it's what she wants. To fall into the comfort of anonymity.

Safe and nameless.

"How are you going to contact Thais?" Caimbeui asked.

"A summoning," I said. "His nature is such that he won't be able to resist. I wish it hadn't come to this, but we haven't spoken in so many years. Since that terrible time after Wounded Knee."

"Why didn't you just call him up while we were in Tfr na n6g?"

"Too many enemies there," I said. "And Ala- chia doesn't know about Thais. At least not as far as I know.'I would keep it that way. There are some things she should never know. And I want him to be on my ground. Not his; not someone else's."

A wave of exhaustion swept over me. Suddenly, I wanted nothing more than to go and sleep for the rest of my natural life. But I didn't have that choice. There was too much at stake. I got up and walked back into the house.

Caimbeui drew the drapes as I turned off all but one light. Though it made little difference to my casting, I preferred less light. That way I could con- centrate on what was happening with the spell rather than my surroundings.

"This would be a lot simpler if you let me help," said Caimbeui.

The edges of the room faded back into shadows. The few pieces of furniture still covered in sheets looked ghostly against the far walls. The night noises were muffled by the drapes. Occasionally, I could still hear the drone of a low-flying Lone Star Security chopper.

"Are you ready?" I asked. I wasn't sure which of us I was asking.

Caimbeui nodded and stepped back into the shad- ows. I knew if anything untoward happened, he would take care of me.

Taking a deep breath and closing my eyes, I let myself relax and block everything out but the spell I was about to perform.