Spike woke up alone. He rolled over, searching for the elusive warmth of his absent bedmate. Not finding that comfort, he sat up, looking around. The room was dimly lit from indirect sunlight filtering in through the open door. Del must have left a window shutter open somewhere. Spike yawned and stretched. The beds, which he’d feared would be uncomfortable, had proven to be quite the opposite. Of course, having a certain blue-green dalhari in it with him certainly hadn’t hurt.

He reluctantly swung out of bed and pulled on the night shirt he’d never put on the evening before. Exiting the room, he made use of the facilities across the hall, and then went in search of Del. In the main room he found food, obviously fresh. Snacking on the proffered fruit and bread, Spike wandered into Del’s bedroom.

The dalhari wasn’t in there either. Spike took the time to look around again; studying the books he couldn’t read as well as the myriad weapons Del had stored everywhere. He’d have thought she was more neat and organized than this, but the room was a cluttered mess.

After more than an hour of puttering about, Spike began to get concerned. He wouldn’t have thought Del would have just left him here when he didn’t know where anything was—unless she wanted him to stay put. Spike, though was too curious. He returned to his room to get dressed and venture out into the world.

After three more hours, Spike was ready to throw himself off a tall building—if he could find an opening anywhere. For the first hour, he’d wandered here and there, following no particular path at all. During the second hour, he’d tried to find a common room like the one he’d been in the night before. After that hour passed, he was willing to settle for a doorway leading outside. None of his searches were fruitful. He was completely and totally lost. And, ever since he’d come to the conclusion that he needed to ask for help, the only dalhari he’d passed didn’t speak the only language he knew here.

Just as he was about to pound his skull into the stone wall, a hand settled on his shoulder. Turning around he saw the purple dalhari from the night before.

“Oh. Hi,” Spike said. “Um, can you help me find where I’m staying? I can’t find a damned thing around here.”

The dalhari smiled slightly and nodded. “Follow me.” Spike dutifully followed the dalhari. Soon they were stopped in front of a set of doors. They weren’t the doors to Del’s room.

“This isn’t where I’m staying,” Spike said flatly. “I’m at Del’s place.”

His companion shook her head. “These quarters are yours now. We have had them furnished for you.” The elder unlatched the door and handed Spike a key.

Spike took it, but didn’t enter. “Where’s Del?” He was getting a very, very bad feeling about this.

The dalhari sighed. That meant he was being frustrating—dalhari tended to sigh in frustration more than humans. It was endearing. “Del went home.”

Home? “I thought this was home.” Spike thought back. Had she gone back to her father’s place?

“She stays here to work the forges occasionally. Na’alha is her home.” The elder gestured for Spike to enter the quarters. He did so, still talking.

“So she just left me here?” Spike stated, unconvinced. “What did you tell her? You made her leave, didn’t you!”

The dalhari denied this. “She chose to leave on her own. Spike, it is best for you.”

“Best for me? I’m stuck in some wretched backward world and you’ve run off the only person I trust!” He threw up his hands.

Another sigh followed the brief outburst. “We are only trying to help you, Spike.” The dalhari’s voice grew firmer. “The witches will probably be unable to help you. Thus, you need to learn to survive here—without a protector. You are an adult, not a child. Would you really be happy living your entire life dependent on Del? She would be your provider, your protector. Everything you learned about this world would be through the filter of her mind. You would only know what she chose for you to know.”

“That’s not how it would be,” Spike replied, hurt. Did Del think this as well?

“Can you be sure? Tell me, what do you know of others in this world? Do you know how to survive out there alone?”

“I’d adapt,” Spike replied shortly.

“Yes, I’m sure you would. But you would be lonely, desperately so. You’re closing yourself off, and that will leave you bereft.” The purple dalhari went to the doorway, preparing to leave.

“We have scheduled a tutor to instruct you on written and verbal languages. He will arrive this evening.”

Spike was soon left alone in his new quarters. He wanted to do break something. In less than a day, he had been dumped into yet another world it seemed—one Del had never prepared him for. And now Del was just gone.

The quarters were well appointed; comparing his rooms to Del’s it was apparent that she lacked interior design skills. Tapestries and weavings covered most of the walls here, instead of the few that were isolated in Del’s bedroom. Cushions and pillows filled the corners. Most telling, though, was the liberal quantity of art filling the tables and covering the tops of shelves and cases. Dalhari seemed to enjoy sculpture immensely. It was odd how Del had had almost none of it in her rooms.

Only one window shutter was open in each room, So Spike went around opening the rest of them. Unlike Del’s quarters, the window glass here was a fiery orange. The color alone made the rooms warmer.

Spike didn’t want to be trapped in these quarters, but he still had no idea where anything was. Until he learned at least a few key written words, he was a prisoner. Unable to keep still, he went about making himself at home.

First off he reorganized all of the movable furniture in each room. It wasn’t that he disliked where it had been, he merely wanted something to do. Also, there was just a lot of it and it was heavy, so he quickly tired. After resting a bit and drinking some water, he started unpacking his things. Some forward-thinking dalhari had transferred his belongings from Del’s quarters to his own.

That task took very little time, since he owned precious few things. What to do now? There wasn’t a book in the place—which would have driven Spike crazy if he could have read them. Running out of time-wasting options, he chose to take a long, warm bath.

That entailed lighting a fire in the bathroom’s fireplace and heating the water. Soon, however, he was almost-sleeping in the carved-stone tub. Idly, he wondered if dalhari were unable to procure more wood and metal for building, or if they just liked rocks. He thought it was the latter. They did seem stubborn and resistant to change. Eventually the water cooled to the point of chilliness and Spike exited his bath. Running his hands through his longer, bicolored hair, he considered his reflection in the polished metal mirror lying on a side table. Remembering the contents of one chest in the main room, Spike procured a knife. An hour later, he had a neat, if inexpert, haircut. At least the blond tips were gone. He idly wondered what Del would have thought about it.

The sun had set and Spike had settled comfortably into a sea of pillows when a knock sounded on the door. On the other side, Spike found a gold skinned young man with white hair. He’d never seen metallic skin on a dalhari before.

“You’re the tutor?” Spike asked shortly.

The young man grinned widely and nodded. “I’m Fain. Can I come in?” Spike moved aside and the young man entered, bringing a large, laden bag with him.

Fain placed the bag on a nearby table, and then turned back to Spike. “So…You want to learn what language?”

Spike looked up in surprise. The kid didn’t know? “Um…dalhari, or whatever language the signs are in. I can’t read a bloody thing around here. Didn’t the elders tell you about me?”

Fain shook his head. “No, they just said that someone needed a tutor. If dalhari’s all you want to learn, I can teach you that. But I also know other languages, so if you’re interested…” The dalhari shrugged. It was for Spike to decide.

The young dalhari’s enthusiasm initially grated on Spike’s nerves. Fain, however, turned out to be very focused and a genuinely talented teacher. Of course, the fact that Spike was adept at learning and languages didn’t hurt.

“You’ve studied languages before, haven’t you?” Fain asked, impressed with the human.

Spike nodded. “Yeah, but none from this world.” He had very briefly explained what had happened. Much like other dalhari who had learned the story, Fain was awed by Spike himself and what he had been, but not overly impressed by the way he’d reached their world. The general population here accepted magic, so it was nothing unusual for magickal things to occur—even if transdimensional visitors were very rare.

“Great. This will be easier if you’re used to learning languages.” They studied for several more hours, until the sun was starting to rise. Spike yawned. Fain laughed at him.

“I forgot that humans usually sleep at night.” Spike looked at him quizzically before remembering that dalhari weren’t really nocturnal or diurnal. Their sleeping patterns were scattered around haphazardly. Del had conformed to his own needs on the trip, but here in La’iv, Spike would be expected to abide by dalhari customs.

“It’s alright. We’ve just been at it for hours.” Spike stood up and stretched, listening to his joints creak.

Fain likewise rose, gathering his books. “I’ll leave you with some simple readings you can practice for tonight. At the rate you’re going, you’ll be proficient in a month, and fluent in a year.”

Spike shut the door behind the tutor, then flung himself in bed, mentally if not physically exhausted.

When Spike rose that afternoon, he found more food in the main chamber. He guessed that someone was coming in while he slept to bring him the stuff, since he couldn’t find his way to any sort of kitchen or dining room. Munching on fresh fruit, he picked up the readings Fain had left him. He wondered if Fain knew what his name meant to humans. Probably.

The readings were unbound sheets of paper containing simplistic phrases and sentences. Spike was truly enjoying learning the language, in both the verbal and written forms. They meshed quite nicely; the lilting, songlike language was reflected in a written form so aesthetically pleasing it looked like art. Still, Spike was glad he knew demonic languages. Dalhari was nothing at all like English, or any human language in his world.

Spike hoped that by the end of the next lesson, he would have enough training to actually venture out and look around. He wanted to go explore the city, taking time to really study all the things he’d seen when they first came through. He also wanted to get away from these quarters, where he couldn’t help but think about Del every few minutes. He was still furious about the abandonment.

•••

True to his hopes, after his second lesson Spike was deemed proficient enough by Fain to venture out into the hallways without a guide. The tutor had suggested, though, that he wait a little while before trying the city itself, just to be safe.

Spike took his new freedom seriously and spent almost all his time wandering around. He found kitchens, workrooms, schools, gardens and what looked like meditation chambers scattered through the house he was in. Quarters like his own seemed to exist everywhere. Spike’s travails were made easier when he realized that the color of window glass in a room placed that space in a certain part of the house. Soon he could navigate anywhere in the building.

After a week or so of lessons, and pretty much only Fain as company, Spike was visited by one of the elders he’d met earlier. Spike was a bit apprehensive as he ushered in the orange dalhari.

“Fain has mentioned your remarkable progress, Spike,” the dalhari began. “It is heartening to see you doing well.”

“Thanks.” Spike wanted to know why she was here.

“I fear I am the bearer of unfortunate news, Spike. The witches we called cannot help you return. Without at least a part of the object that brought you here, our magicks cannot send you back.” The dalhari looked genuinely saddened by their inability to help him.

“I didn’t think they would, honestly. It doesn’t matter. I’m here now.” Spike offered the dalhari a place to sit. She sank down gratefully.

“Indeed you are, Spike. Perhaps it’s time you ventured beyond these walls.” Spike perked up at that suggestion. He really did want to get out. “We can arrange for you to visit any number of places within the city—whatever you wish to see.”

Spike thought about it. He and Fain had talked about quite a bit regarding La’iv. The tutor had filled him in on the history and purpose behind many of the buildings Spike recalled seeing. However, Spike was more interested in something that had been said at his first meeting with the elders.

“What about trades?” Spike asked. “Can I visit some of the guilds?”

The dalhari looked a bit surprised. “That can be arranged, although I would not have expected you to pursue such a path so quickly.”

Spike shrugged. “I’m bored and lonely. I need something to do.”

“Indeed. Well then, I will send a guide to you tomorrow and you can visit the city.”

True to her word, a guide arrived just after sunrise the next day. Spike was pleasantly surprised to see the young guard Vaishi standing on the other side of the door.

“Spike!” Vaishi exclaimed. “How are you this morning?”

“Fine, thanks. You?” Spike wondered at the surprise in Vaishi’s voice. Didn’t the elders ever tell anyone anything?

“I am well. Do you know where you’d like to visit?” Vaishi waited patiently while Spike fetched his cloak and a walking stick he’d acquired from Fain.

“Trade halls, guilds, workrooms. And the library.” Spike responded, shutting the door behind them.

“As you wish. May I ask where you found that staff?” Vaishi peered closely at it.

“My tutor, Fain, gave it to me.” Recognition lit Vaishi’s eyes.

“Fain? Yes, it looks like his work.” If Spike wasn’t mistaken, Vaishi was blushing.

“You know Fain?” Spike asked, suspicious of something. Vaishi blushed deeper and nodded. Spike just grinned. Teenagers were teenagers, even if they were decades older than human adolescents.

Vaishi led him through dozens of trade halls and workshops. They spent more time in some than in others. One place they went through rather quickly was the tannery. Vaishi explained that it took a dalhari with a strong stomach to work in the tanneries. The smell alone made most dalhari ill.

Spike studied each trade as they visited it. He hoped to fine one he was interested in, or at least could stand. He’d held out an irrational hope that he’d be taken by the forges, but upon visiting the place, he found it utterly unpleasant. It was hot, dirty and noisy—and he just couldn’t see himself doing that for any length of time.

He was despairing of finding anything when they stopped in at the last workshop before their agreed-upon meal break. This shop, unlike the forge, was completely indoors. It was made up of several long, well-lit rooms full of either piles of fiber, fabric, or weaving machinery.

Vaishi left Spike at the entrance while he went to find a master weaver to talk to Spike. The human, meanwhile, wandered around the workshop, watching in growing fascination as different dalhari cleaned, carded, dyed and spun fibers into yarn, which was then woven into fabric. By the time Vaishi and the weaver found Spike, he was seated on the floor by a mountain of wool, learning how to card.

The young guard smiled. It was obvious that Spike had found a trade he liked. The master weaver sat down next to Spike and started showing him carding techniques. Vaishi waited patiently while Spike and the weaver talked about the trade and apprenticeship opportunities. By the end of the conversation, the lost-looking human with a dalhari mark on his face had procured a secure spot in the next class of apprentices.

“Did you enjoy yourself, Spike?” Vaishi asked as they ate a meal on the green.

Spike grinned. “It was alright. I like the weaving stuff. It’s fun.”

“You’ll need to tell the elders where you’re apprenticing.”

Spike turned to him. “Why’s that?”

“They will need to be sure everything is in order. The weavers are Disiaron, but of a different clan than ours, so the elders will need to make sure that there are no conflicts.” Vaishi fell silent as he finished his meal.

Spike found it odd how easily the dalhari of Del and Vaishi’s clan, the Saydhe, accepted him as one of the own, as though the mark spontaneously made him family. Still, it was nice to have those allies. Even if his adopted clan tended to either work in forges, become guards, or devote their lives to religious pursuits.

When the pair returned to the house, Vaishi took Spike directly to the elders’ meeting hall. The four elders he’d met before were joined by a fifth he didn’t recognize.

“Ah, Spike. Did you enjoy yourself today?” The purple dalhari greeted him warmly.

Spike grinned. “Of course. I’m apprenticing at the weavers. Vaishi said you might have to…do something in regards to that.”

The tan dalhari shook her head. “The weavers’ clan is on good terms with yours. There should be no problems.” The new elder nodded his agreement.

Spike would have liked to have studied the new arrival more closely, but the dark blue skinned, black haired dalhari left with the orange and brown elders shortly thereafter. The purple and tan elders continued to reassure Spike that his apprenticeship was acceptable. They also promised that he would be able to continue receiving tutoring with Fain, and that his quarters were still open to him.

“Spike, stop worrying about it. I can promise you that the two clans involved won’t have problems with your apprenticeship,” the purple dalhari finally stated.

“How can you be so sure?” Spike was still unclear on dalhari politics.

The purple female smiled. “Because I am the Mirh clan leader—the weavers’ clan.”

“Oh.”

They left after that, so Spike wandered back to his quarters. He wondered why it was he didn’t know the names of the elders. He’d taken to thinking of them by their skin colors. Fain had mentioned that dalhari marks carried within them the name of their carrier, but dalhari in the freehold didn’t wear marks except for special occasions.

Spike had inquired to Fain once about the mark on his own skin. The tutor had told him about the pigments used in marking, and how they were designed to dye the skin very deeply. He had also provided Spike with a soapy paste that would help fade the mark faster. Spike hadn’t used it yet, but was also unwilling to get rid of it.

The mark was one of the few things he had left of Del. Other than a mention or two by Vaishi on their walk, no one had mentioned her to Spike. It was as if he had just appeared in La’iv and that Del didn’t exist. It saddened him greatly.

Spike lay in bed that night, wondering if he was doing the right thing by taking on an apprenticeship this soon. He tossed and turned all evening, unable to sleep. What he really wanted was for Del to be there, to tell him he was doing the right thing.

The last thought he had before he finally drifted off to sleep was that the purple elder had been right the day Del had left.