Belladonna

it, but we've accidentally broken almost enough of these things for her to pack up what's left and start using the set of dishes we bought her as a wedding present when she and Jeb got married." He paused. "She was getting suspicious about the sudden clumsiness when someone besides herself washed the dishes, so you did us a favor since she can't accuse you of doing it on purpose."
    "Still, they're your mother's dishes."
    "We could pack them up and send them home with you."
    "I don't want them." The words came out so fast and so emphatic that she startled them both. And it wasn't practical. There was no telling if anything had been saved from the fire. She should welcome being given a few dishes to help her and Aunt Brighid set up housekeeping again.
    But she didn't want these dishes. Really, really didn't want them.
    Lee grinned, as if he knew what she was thinking— and was maybe planning on how to give them to her at a time when she wouldn't be able to refuse.
    Caitlin sniffed again. "Do you think breaking a dinner dish or two would be enough to get the rest sent up to the attic?"
    "That might just be enough," Lee agreed. He dumped the pieces into the trash container, then fetched the broom and dustpan to clean up the rest.
    They were sitting at the table, sharing a plate of sweet rolls and a pot of koffee, when Nadia walked back into the kitchen.
    Something happened out there, Caitlin thought, watching the older woman for a moment before glancing at Lee. Yes, he saw it, too, but he was understanding more.
    "We pulled the sweet rolls out of the oven," Lee said. "They browned up a bit too much, but they're still good. Isn't Sebastian coming in?"
    Nadia fetched a cup and poured koffee for herself. "He had to get back to the Den."
    Lee took a sip of koffee and watched his mother. "I'll go to the island right after breakfast."
    "I'm making soup for our midday meal," Nadia said. "Wait until later so you can take some to your sister."
    Later. Ever since she'd arrived here yesterday, Nadia had been promising that they would send a message to Glorianna first thing in the morning because Glorianna would be able to explain things in a way Nadia could not. Now that promise was being bent, the message was being delayed. Why?
    Because something happened out there. Caitlin looked out the window at the garden.
    She had been so young when her mother died; she didn't remember the death itself, but she remembered the feel of the people around her — the hushed voices,the things that were said with nothing more than a look or within a silence.
    That same feeling filled the kitchen now. Nadia and Lee knew something, but they weren't going to tell her. Not yet.
    And they wouldn't tell her as long as she acted like a weepy child instead of a grown woman strong enough to face the world.
    "Would you like some help making the soup?" Caitlin asked.
    Nadia studied her for a moment, then smiled. "Yes, I would."

Chapter Sixteen
    S anctuary. The song of it flowed through him, sweet and gentle, but with just enough spice to give the heart delight as well as peace. He wanted to walk the grounds and the gardens, wanted to sit on one of those little islands he'd spotted and twiddle on his whistle, letting the notes become part of whatever message was passed along by the water.
    You're almost home.
    The thought seemed to float on the air, seemed to slip into his body with every breath. You're almost home.
    He wasn't anywhere near the land of his birth. Which made him wonder what sort of answers he might get from the man now escorting him to the next stage of his journey.
    He still wasn't sure Sebastian and Teaser weren't playing games with him. Oh, he couldn't deny that this part of the world was much stranger than anything he might have imagined, but how could people live as a people if they didn't know where they lived?
    "Yoshani," he said hesitantly. "I was wondering if you know what a country is?"
    "I know what a country is," Yoshani replied with a smile. "And I understand what a landscape is. There can be many landscapes in a single country — and there can be many countries in a single landscape."
    Michael frowned. "That makes no sense."
    "Which part? Both are true, depending on how one sees the world."
    "They can't both be true. The world —"
    "— is fluid. Ever-changing. A reflection of ourselves."
    That thought wasn't comfortable — or comforting. Not after the things he'd seen lately.
    "Which is why I am grateful daily that I can