Our Lady of Shadows

powers......thieves....no answers...powers...,"

* * *

The Magistrate sits at one end of a decently large table laden with varieties of food on platters, in bowls, in baskets, tureens. There is drink in pitchers, bottle, and cruets. There are two candelabra sets of thirteen candles burning a noorishine glow. All the clutter and weight of the table would be perfectly balanced by the man who is Magistrate but to his right sits his guest and she unbalances the entire display.

When she is there, she unbalances the entire display but it is not always possible to assume she is there. As often as he has dealt with this guest, the Magistrate still has difficulty attaining comfort in her presence. Even eating, the most comforting activity he knows, does not entirely rid him of the physical discomfort caused by her ceaseless shifting. In irritation, he asks whether she can sit still for one instant, just one mouthful of roast lamb so that the chewing and the sucking and the swallowing can be enjoyed at the leisure the gods designed and demand for the dinner hour.

"You can still a lesser being. Standing still is akin to death. I do not intend to die."

"By the amount of food you eat, I believe you do not intend to die" the Magistrate laughs. "Your consumption equals mine yet your form belies such intake."

The guest is amused as well, a smile crossing her lips then disappearing as if it had never been. "Shifting requires energy" is all the explanation she offers.

"Let us talk then of the stone. Where is it? Why do we not hunt this woman?"

"Nothing has changed from our first meeting, Magistrate."

"At our first meeting you claimed to be seeking a woman, probably this woman, as if you were not sure she exists."

"I am certain she exists," the shifter replies. "I am not certain we can find her."

"Which is why you let me use the bloodstone?"

"Partially. I let you use the bloodstone to let you be even more you."

"As you said when we first met. I still do not see the connection."

"Yes, Magistrate, you do. As your fellow magistrates have pointed out to you, abuse of a magistrate's power tends to cause that magistrate to disappear. It has been so for at least 150 years. You know your history well enough to know they are correct yet you continue to draw power to yourself, to do things your way."

The Magistrate appears amused by the tone and theme of the conversation. "Yes, yes, yes. I know the history of the Magistrates but I see nothing there to suggest anything other than politics as usual. A Magistrate became too powerful; the others removed him. I have taken steps to assure myself my fellow Magistrates are not able to do the same for me."

"How do you account for me?" the guest asks, a knowing smile playing on her lips. She adds another thought as if she reads the Magistrate's mind: "You cannot kill me, Magistrate. I am not here except for an instant. When I am not here, I am minutes into the future or minutes into the past, which is why my image seems, blurred. Sometimes I am just arriving and sometimes just departing. In the future I can see your moves; in the past I can counter them.

"For example, you are deciding to test my truthfulness but the knife you wish to throw is no longer on your belt."

The Magistrate cannot keep the shock from his face. Yes, he had decided and, yes, the knife has moved from the folds of his robe to the shifter's hands. The Magistrate needs a few moments to compose himself, which the shifter gracefully allows.