The sound of laughter and play was...a kind of music. It had led him here; now his eyes told him he should stay.

He'd spent the winter in the ruins near Odin's Tower, living off the monsters that entered the ruins and caves to escape the cold and snow. With the coming of spring he'd ventured on again, and now it was full summer. Which meant, he knew, that it was January - a new year. With the heat he'd stayed as much as possible near water sources - he used clear plastic hemispheres he'd found in the ruins to purify water. Just fill one with water from an impure source - those were easy to identify, with shifted senses he could smell salt and other contaminants - and set it to boil under the other. Steam was purer water, and he'd rigged a 'lip' under the second bowl to catch condensed steam as it rolled down the sides of the upturned bowl. The result was drinkable water - at least, water Taran was able to drink.

It did still require water to work, though, and so he'd been following the coastline. He felt terribly exposed, but it was that or die of thirst. Which had led him here.

Ruins, as such, were pretty much a standard feature of the landscape in Centra. Even in places where Taran would have bet no human could survive for more than two days, he'd occasionally stumbled across a crumbling turret or an open-roofed house. Centra had once been heavily populated - it had to have been. And though the land was somewhat recovered from whatever catastrophe had befallen it, it was still largely uninhabitable.

So finding these ruins in much better than average conditions, and hearing laughter, brought Taran up short - Tika halting with a low, querying whistle at his side. He didn't ride Tika, mostly. The chocobo could carry much more if she wasn't also carrying him, and he especially needed all the water she could carry. So he walked beside her, his pack as heavy as he could make it without sacrificing freedom of movement, and she carried whatever he couldn't.

Tika know? he whistled at her. The chocobo didn't seem particularly worried about people being here, and he didn't know if that was simply a chocobo's lack of fear of humans or if it were specific to this group.

The bird bobbed her head. Human, she whistled, and Taran sighed. So she didn't really fear people then - no way to know if this group presented a danger. He considered the problem - on the one hand he didn't want to be discovered, and on the other the laughter sounded like children. Surely, then, this was the orphanage? He couldn't imagine SeeDs dropping children off in such a wild place - at least, he couldn't imagine SeeDs letting children make that kind of noise in such a wild place. Every monster for miles probably heard it.

He found an artificial cave - a house whose roof had partially collapsed, creating a small out-of-the-way space - and led Tika into it. Tika stay, he whistled, and set his own pack at the chocobo's feet. Tika guard.

Tika guard, the chocobo echoed. The bird would now screech and cry if anyone or anything other than Taran came too close, and would remain in exactly this spot until he returned. Taran nodded.

Freed of companion and encumbrance, Taran moved lightly and quietly to the source of the sound. Just because they were children, it didn't mean he was necessarily safe. Well able by now to hide even from the keen senses of monsters, he was easily able to slip into cracks and shadows within sight of the children.

They were playing tag - about two dozen, varying in age from four to ten, were on the shore playing tag and any other game they felt like playing. More toys than Taran had ever seen in his life were there - wooden swords and shields, stuffed chocobos, dolls, everything. No toy looked very expensive, but all looked in good condition. The children seemed happy playing with the toys, each other, and the incoming tide.

He watched them for a long time, feeling alone and melancholy but unable - or unwilling - to turn away. He'd spent those years of his life in a single room for the most part, and had seen nothing like the profusion of toys on every side. He didn't really regret it, but he did wonder sometimes what he'd missed. If he'd been able to go to a beach to play, would he have played this way?

So absorbed was he in watching the games, he didn't notice company coming. "You'd better have a good reason for spying on my children, stranger," said a low, clear, feminine voice - and Taran froze. She - whoever she was - spoke again. "Turn around; let's have a look at you."

He did so, concentrating on breathing slowly and remaining calm so that his eyes didn't shift. Before him was a beautiful woman with long black hair and clad in a simple black gown, at his best guess in her forties. Her eyes widened on seeing him. "Squall?" she asked, then frowned at him as she stared. "No - no, you're not Squall. Who are you?"

Taran was both afraid and impressed - she'd seen the resemblance and dismissed it so quickly, and he knew right now he was a long bath and a haircut away from any casual resemblance to his father. "My name is Taran," he said quietly. "It's been a long time since I've seen anyone other than a Chocoboy. I was only watching them."

"Taran," the woman repeated, not taking her eyes off him. "My name is Edea. What are you doing spying on my children?"

Taran blinked. She - but she'd been a Sorceress, hadn't she? That might be why she looked closer to forty than the sixty-plus she must truly be. Sorceresses lived longer than other folk, he knew that. And she didn't look very happy with him just now. "Envying them, Matron," he admitted.

It was Edea's turn to look surprised. "Matron..." she repeated. "And you look so much - who are you, Taran?" she asked again. "Come with me to the house. It's quiet there, and the children will be playing for hours yet. I think I want to know everything about you." She smiled. "But I think I'll let you take a bath first."

Taran was caught between utter shock and a kind of scolded-child sensation. He was keenly aware that he was in more need of a good scrubbing than all the children on the beach put together, but there hadn't been water other than the sea and salt was grittier than dirt...somehow Edea just made him feel like a child, and a misbehaving one at that. So he said, "Yes, Matron," very meekly, and fell into step behind her as she led the way through the ruins.

The house she took him to was large and sprawling - it appeared to be several ruined houses that had been built together on reconstruction. Some parts looked older than others - some had been added on more recently, he guessed. But who had done it? Edea didn't seem to be that strong, and the children couldn't possibly have helped, they were too small...

Edea let him gawk, turning his head this way and that as they passed from room to room, but if he paused she would shake her head and beckon him onward. Everywhere were signs of children - small stuffed monsters, pieces of games, broken toys and whole. Nothing looked new, but the sheer profusion was boggling. Through several such rooms they went, until she opened a door onto a room tiled with an ancient ceramic mosaic, and a full steaming bath the size of a swimming pool.

"It was here, in the ruins, all along," she said simply, but a smile lingered on her lips. "One of the children found it - green with ancient algae, of course, and in much need of repair. We restored it, and now I have a great deal less trouble convincing them to take a bath at the end of the day. There are bars of soap there," and she pointed to a plain wooden shelf near the water's edge, "and there are towels in the cabinet. Feel free to make yourself presentable."

Taran twitched - he couldn't help it. A hot spring! And soap, and soft towels...he blinked, and realized the last time he'd had all three in the real world he'd been the same age as the children outside. It was to die for, a promise of bliss...but... "Matron, what would I wear? These are all I have, and they're as dirty as I am." And there was no way under heaven he was wearing only a towel around this woman. He was feeling underdressed enough as it was.

Edea gave him a searching look that only enhanced his feeling he'd been caught playing with mud pies - and then, unexpectedly, she smiled. "Leave them on the edge of the pool after you've washed them, if you want to wash them, and there are robes with the towels in the cabinet. I'm sure you'll find one to fit you."

Taran nodded gratefully, blushing furiously, and waited for her to leave before he stripped down and dove into the pool. Ah, bright golden Thunderbird, clean water on his body was a luxury he'd almost forgotten. He let his eyes shift under the water, and noted an ancient filtration system was in place. He grinned. So he didn't need to worry about that, then. He grabbed a cake of soap and swam for the deep end, where he could duck under the water to rinse.

I hope she doesn't freak out before my clothes dry, it'd be a shame to have to put on wet clothes if I can dry off first. He'd run out of soap long ago, and had made do with whatever he could find - fine sand, soaproot if it were available or he had a dried supply, but too often he'd just had to settle for getting wet and rubbing as much as he could off his body with his hands. Golden wings, I can wash my hair! It had been ages since he'd had clean hair.

After giving his body two or three solid goings-over with the soap, he thought he might possibly be clean enough to start on his hair. So absorbed was he in the simple joy of not being coated with sand, salt, grit and dirt - not to mention blood belonging to both himself and half the monster types on the continent - that he sang as he worked lather into his hair. "I keep looking back, a lifetime back across the desert...in a desert where no one can explain, you tell me God is dancing in the rain..."

It might take ages to get all of the knots out. He'd debated just cutting it all off at one point, sharpening his utility knife and using it like a razor - but the idea of being hairless in winter was not a pleasant one. Dirty though it often was, it still kept his head and neck somewhat warmer when the cold came. And there was no shortage of soap - he grinned as he saw baby shampoo on the shelf. Once he got the worst of the dirt out, he'd use that and get rid of tangles too. Edea might turn him into hash, but at least he'd be clean when he died. "I can hear the echo in a maze of words, a lonely voice behind a door...can you hear me calling from a world away, a lonely voice behind a door..."

A second scrub done, he dove under the hot water to wash the soap off, testing the pull of his hair in the water. It felt much lighter, which was a good sign. He came up for air and went for a third scrubbing. He was going to be as pink and wrinkled as a newborn when he got out of here, but the prospect wasn't the least bit undesirable. "I keep looking back, traditions back across the centuries...in a century where no one can explain, you tell me God is dancing in the rain..."

"That's a pretty song," came Edea's calm voice, and Taran startled so badly he got soap in his eyes - necessitating a quick duck under to wash them out again. When he came up he tilted his body forward - the water was slightly clouded with his washing and the soapsuds, but nowhere near clouded enough for him to feel comfortable with Edea in the room. She smiled a little in an indulgent way at his embarrassment, which didn't help matters any. "Taran - it's not as though I haven't seen more naked boys in my life than you probably have. I assure you I have no designs upon your person. Do go on with your singing. I just wanted to hear it."

Taran felt himself doing a very good fish impression. He hadn't been aware he'd been singing so loudly that it would carry beyond the bathing room, and with someone of Edea's poise staring at him while he was bathing he'd quite lost the thread of the music. "You're doing this on purpose," he accused, fighting down an urge to sink even lower in the water. Good grief it was like being watched by a nun...

She smiled more widely, and nodded. "Quite right. I have yet to meet a man who could commit mischief while he's bathing. And you haven't answered my questions yet, so you're not exactly a guest. Why were you spying on my children?"

He blinked. Oh, she was clever. And dead right - he couldn't evade her when he couldn't leave the bathing pool, and his clothes were filthy and he'd have a hard time getting into them while soaking wet anyway. And she could assure herself he was unarmed...golden Thunderbird this woman was clever. He had a sneaking suspicion if she'd known about his power she'd have tried to kill him on the spot. But all he could think to say was, "I wasn't spying."

Edea looked calm and completely unafraid, but her expression began to look disapproving. "You were keeping to shadows, where you wouldn't be seen easily. And you were watching the children. Why didn't you come up to the door if your intentions were honorable?"

He'd learned long ago he was unable to lie, and right now he deeply regretted that lack. The truth must sound unbelievable. "I was afraid, Matron." And I had good reason to be!

"Afraid?" Edea said softly. "Of a group of children and a lone woman in the middle of nowhere? Yet you must be able to fight the monsters or you wouldn't survive here. Why are you afraid of me, when you're not afraid of them?"

Taran phrased his answer carefully. He couldn't lie, but he could misdirect, and he didn't have to answer her question. He made his reply a simple comment: "I understand the monsters."

A slight crinkling around her eyes as she smiled told Taran he hadn't actually fooled her, and her words confirmed his guess. "And you don't understand people, is that what you want me to think? Taran, whoever you are, I've been reading between the lines for probably longer than you've been breathing. If you're going to try to mislead me, you have a houseful of children around you who will tell me in all seriousness that they weren't the ones who broke my shell lamp last week." She stepped delicately along the tiles and sat down near the edge of the pool, and matter-of-factly passed him the baby shampoo. "I think...you're too innocent to mean them harm," she said slowly. "I can believe you when you say you were afraid, but the question still remains - why? You're very young under all that dirt, Taran. Why do you wander alone, especially on this deserted continent, and why be afraid of my children?"

Part of Taran wanted to reply that really he was well over twenty so he wasn't as young as all that, but he knew he looked no older than seventeen. And under that calm gaze, he felt a great deal younger even than that. He took the shampoo and concentrated on getting his hair clean and untangled, and tried not to think about Edea watching him do it. He had a terrible suspicion she'd giggle if he told her to leave because he was unnerved at being watched. "I'm not supposed to tell you," he said. "But I bet you can work it out."

Eyes that had narrowed in suspicion quickly blinked in confusion - Edea evidently hadn't expected quite that response. "If I can work it out, it must be something I can see..."

While his hands were caught in tangles, Edea reached out and caught Taran's chin in her hand, turning his head slightly - this way and that. When she let him go he quickly backed up a few steps so she couldn't do it again. "Squall was an only child, and Raine died...yet you really do look like him. Is that what you're referring to?" She frowned somewhat. "You can't be a son of Laguna's, not with that face - Squall inherited his features from his mother. But surely if Squall had had children he would have told me..."

Taran blushed, and ducked under the water to rinse the soap out of his hair to hide it. When he came up Edea was still looking at him with that searching expression. "Is that what you aren't allowed to tell me? Are you Squall's son?"

Taran felt ashamed, and it had to do with the look of surprise and betrayal on Edea's face. His father hadn't wanted anyone to know, hadn't wanted to admit any more than necessary, and now Edea was staring at him... "Yes, Matron."

Edea got to her feet with remarkable ease. "Squall died more than twenty years ago," she said softly. "So Laguna told me. You are very young, Taran, it's hard to believe -"

Taran did not want to hide any more from her. Aside from feeling sick at the idea of deceiving her, he had a strong feeling she'd see through any evasions he tried to make. "I am his son," he said flatly. "I am twenty one years old - nearly twenty two, actually. I know I don't look it, but it's a long story."

"And one I think I'd like to hear," said Edea. "When I received Laguna's letter, telling me he was gone..." she noticed Taran's pained look and paused. "What proof can you offer me, besides your face?"

"My face alone should be enough," said Taran sadly. "It's why I hide, you're not supposed to know. And the other reason I hide - is this."

He let his eyes shift, released a fraction of his power into the water. It would be impressive, he knew - lightning underwater was brilliant diffused light, an eerie glow. Sparks danced in the wet strands of his hair and crawled down the hollows of his cheeks.

The only reaction from Edea was a slight widening of her eyes. "Of course," she said quietly. "Taran is Trabian for thunder. I should have guessed you weren't helpless, but it's not that uncommon a name. I'll take it as a sign of your good faith that you haven't chosen to electrocute me for talking to you while you bathe, Taran. When you have finished, set your wet things on the clothesline outside that door," and she pointed to one on the far side of the pool, "put on a robe and look for me. We have much to talk about."

With not a jot of poise lost, Edea left the room. Taran was relieved to be alone, and at the same time sorry to see her go. He had the idea he'd hurt her somehow, and that bothered him - but what else could he have done? He sighed, and checked himself over. His hair still needed work, and he needed to get hold of some sort of brush to scrub his back... to cover the silence in the room he took up his song again. "I can hear the echo in a maze of words, a lonely voice behind a door...can you hear me calling from a world away, a lonely voice behind a door..."

Music helped him focus, as it often did. He'd have to call Tika to him when he got out - possibly he could whistle for her while hanging his clothes. He didn't want to have to tell Edea everything, all the secrets his father kept. He knew if Squall had wanted Edea to know he would have arranged to tell her - but that look on her face, that sad disappointed look as though Squall had failed her somehow, that made him feel as if he had somehow failed her too, when he didn't even know her. He couldn't believe Edea would hand him over to Seifer. He just couldn't, not after meeting her. But there was so much to tell her.... He pulled his clothes into the water and attacked them fiercely with the soap. "As I stare ahead, a dream ahead, across an ocean...'cross an ocean where there's nothing to explain, you tell me God is laughing in the rain..."

Finally satisfied he wasn't going to get any cleaner, nor his clothes either, Taran tossed his gear out of the water and then pulled himself out after. Going to the cabinet he was pleased to find that there were big fluffy white robes in all sorts of sizes, and it didn't take long to find one that fit reasonably well. Thus covered, he felt safe in opening the outer door Edea had indicated; on the other side was open sky and a collection of clotheslines at various heights, strung between the bath-house wall and walls of ruined houses nearby. He finished his song as he was hanging his wet clothes on the clothesline to dry. "I can hear the echo in a maze of words, a lonely voice behind a door...can you hear me calling from a world away, a lonely voice behind a door..."

Only now, of course, he wasn't behind a door. Tika come, he whistled, loud and clear. Tika bring Taran pack.

Tika was quick in coming to the whistle, the pack he'd set at her feet carried firmly in her beak by the straps. She set it down carefully, and he gave her crown feathers an affectionate rub as he dug out a green for her to eat. He fished out all his clothes from the packs, even the winter ones, and checked to see if any were clean enough to be wearable in front of other human beings. It didn't take him long to decide he might as well wash everything. He ordered Tika to guard his drying clothes - he certainly wouldn't trust curious children not to take a poke, and Tika would now hiss at them to keep them away - and hauled everything else into the pool for scrubbing.

'Everything else' was another shirt, two pairs of blitz hide pants (one pair he'd made too large so that it could be worn outside a pair that fit), and a heavy blitz-hide coat. For his entire wardrobe it was probably pretty pitiful, but he needed as much of Tika's carrying capacity taken up with food and water as possible. He sang as he worked, the same song he'd had before - he found he rather liked the acoustics of the bath house - and tried not to think too much about what he might have to tell Edea. He scrubbed them all as best he could, not worrying too much about the effect on the hide since he would make new clothes when these wore out, and set them all on the line to dry after retrieving another large and fluffy white robe from the cabinet; he'd found it easier to do his washing while in the water himself. Tika warked softly in a greeting as he did so, whistling, people, many people.

Taran sighed and ruffled her feathers. Stay. Guard. Taran come later.

The chocobo pecked at his chest - coming away with a few threads of the robe in her beak. Water safe? she whistled.

Water safe, Taran agreed - then repeated in a firm tone, Tika stay - Tika guard. Taran come later. Of course the chocobo was thirsty, but she would survive the few hours until his clothes dried - and he could not risk losing them. Not with people around. Tika waarked a little sadly, but whistled an agreement. He gave her crown feathers another ruffle, acknowledgment of her sacrifice, and went back inside. Now he would have to speak to the Matron who saw so much - in a bathrobe. Luck was certainly not with him.

The house was large and rambling, but well kept - the entire place was spotless, as much as any residence with so many children could ever be spotless. He chose not to count the toys everywhere against the housekeeping; they made the house a home, and he liked the feel of it. Taran did not feel like meeting the residents, though. Edea had told him to 'look for her' - doubtless another test. He would have chosen to 'fail' it, but for the fact that he was not inclined to deal with an army of little children when wearing only a bathrobe. He shook his head slightly - Edea's doing again, he was sure. He let his eyes shift, and looked for any clues as to the route a human woman of Edea's size might have taken through the residence.

She wore lilac scent - not a plant native to Centra. He nodded to himself, and let his nose guide him through the still air of the rooms. In the end he found her in a room set up as a den or library, with open windows and bookshelves on the walls, and chairs designed for comfortable reading. She had on a pair of reading glasses as she turned the pages of an old book in her hands. "So, you do have more abilities than 'just' throwing sparks," she noted, unsurprised.

"Yes, Matron," he agreed, feeling that perhaps he shouldn't sit until she told him to. She had a bearing that spoke of queens. But she closed the book and smiled at him, and even with the reading glasses on it was like looking at a laughing girl playing princess.

She took the glasses off and indicated a couch. "Sit down, please," she told him, and he quickly took advantage of the offer. He wasn't fond of the idea of an open door at his back. Surely her children would come looking for her soon. "Why are you here, Taran, son of Squall? Surely not to volunteer to watch over the children."

He blinked at the archaic usage, and realized it was because he hadn't told her his full name. "I'm Taran ab Llew, Matron," he informed her. "And...I didn't plan on coming here. I was following the coast, you see, and heard the sound of your children playing. It's been a long time since I heard human voices, so I followed and watched. That's all. I wasn't intending to presume on your hospitality."

Edea watched him steadily, her expression quiet but not unsympathetic. "I believe you," she said. "You didn't want to interact, only watch. But why? If you are Squall's son, why not come to me? Why did he not tell me about you? Where did your magic come from?" She frowned. "You're not a sorcerer, are you? Or did Squall give you a junction?"

"No, no, nothing like that," Taran said hastily, well aware of the reputation sorcerers had for going insane in spectacular and widely lethal ways. "The lightning is all I can call, Matron. It's part of me." He paused, trying to find words for the rest that wouldn't say too much. "I'm not supposed to be known," he repeated. "Father doesn't want me to be a SeeD, and I don't want to be one, but..." he shrugged and let sparks dance between his fingers. "This is a powerful weapon. Seifer would like to see it controlled."

"Seifer?" asked Edea, then nodded. "Yes...he has always been afraid of anyone he thinks is stronger than he is. But why not come to me, Taran? I know my children. I don't fear them. And SeeD was created for people like you, who are different. Seifer is quite correct to want you there."

Taran looked at her sharply, eyes shifted. "You are going to hand me over to him?" he asked suddenly. "I won't go willingly, Matron. I'll fight first."

Edea raised her hand. "I have never sent a child to them unwillingly, Taran," she said in a soothing tone. "And you might be a bit older than most of my children but the same rule would apply. But why would you not go? Learn to use your power and benefit the world?"

"Because I don't want to use it on people," said Taran flatly. "I survive on this continent by using my power and my skills on monsters, and that's fine. I can be happy with that. I don't want to know what it would be like to use my power on a human being. I hide from Seifer, Matron. If he finds me I will have to kill people to get free again, but what choice is there but kill a few or kill many?"

Edea sighed. "There are other options, Taran, but I don't expect you'll believe me. Not yet, at any rate. So...how do you have this power, if you're not a sorcerer and you have no junction? Why did Squall not tell me about you?"

Taran looked at the floor. It wasn't his doing, he knew it wasn't, but he still felt like he was being scolded. By a mother, or his mother, though Rinoa rarely scolded and he had no idea who his birth mother might have been. "Did you know that there was a complex built out in the desert, Matron?" he asked, and she shook her head. "It was a little over twenty years ago. A group of people from Galbadia, I think, looking for a kind of fun their government's laws kept them from having at home."

"Centra is a large continent, Taran," Edea remarked. "If they built far enough away I would not have heard of them."

Taran tucked his ankles up under him. He could not give her the full truth - his oath to his father prevented it. "I was conceived there," he said. "Doctor Odine was involved. As a result, I was born with this power."

Edea raised an eyebrow. "Very succinct," she noted. "I was looking for some details that might allow me to believe you, Taran."

"I gave an oath, Matron," he sighed. "My father wanted me not to talk about the specifics, even what little of them I know myself. I can't break my word. But you can reach Irvine, can't you? Tell him I'm here, ask him what you will, and he will confirm that I am Squall's son."

"Yes, I would believe Irvine," smiled Edea. "Though honesty in the presence of a good story isn't one of his virtues. Still, it will take me time to reach him and speak with him. What will you do here, in the meantime?"

Taran indicated his robe with a smile. "For one, get dressed," he said, and Edea laughed. "If you need any help with the children I can try, but I shouldn't stay long. Seifer visits here, doesn't he?"

Edea nodded. "Once a year, yes. Each of the Gardens comes here once a year, as do the white ships, and those of the children who are old enough and wish to go leave with them. Unless he knows you're here, though, you should have several months before Balamb Garden shows up on my doorstep."

"White ships?" Taran blinked. "The Gardens I can understand, but what ships?"

"I told you there were other options, Taran," Edea said serenely. "The white ships are the vessels of the White SeeD - my own creation. Quite different from Cid's work, I assure you. The other, necessary, side of the Sorceress coin. But you wanted to get dressed. Your clothes should be dry, if you washed them. Can you find your way back through the house? I must call the children in for supper soon."

Taran thought about it, then nodded. He could probably find his way back. He got to his feet, and bowed, and Edea smiled. "Off you go, then," she said. "And if I don't see you at supper, I'll be sure to tell Irvine."

An adequate warning, Taran considered as he slipped from room to room. Long habit shaped his steps - he was far too used to dwellings of any kind being structurally unstable, so his steps were careful, quick and light. He didn't want to be tipped into a pit that might once have been an old basement, nor did he want the vibration of his footsteps disintegrating a fragile structure around him. Edea's rambling mansion might be repaired, but much of the old structure still stood - and it made him uncomfortable to be shut away from the outside. He followed the scent of chocobo - fairly sure Tika was the only one about - until he reached the bath house. Tika waarked happily when she saw him, whistling water water water to tell him just how impatient she'd gotten waiting for him. When he checked his clothes and found them dry, he nodded to her.

Drink water, he told her, and the chocobo wasted no time in bouncing right into the bathing pool, splashing noisily. Taran had to laugh - there were few things he found as silly looking as a drenched chocobo - but he did warn her, quiet. People near. He had no idea what Edea would make of Tika causing a ruckus in her bath house, and didn't want the noise of the chocobo drinking and bathing to attract children. Tika was largely helpless when in the water, her feathers heavy with it and her steps slow - to bathe was as rare a treat for her as for him. Perhaps rarer, as Tika had a strong objection to salt in her feathers and refused to go anywhere near salt water, whereas Taran would occasionally trade the grit of salt water for the sheer stink of dried blood and sweat and dirt. Once Tika had calmed down a bit he pulled his clothes off the line and packed the spares away, pulling on stiffly dry hide pants. It was too hot to bother with a shirt, but he felt much better having proper pants on. A leather strap tied his hair back, and he whistled to get Tika's attention.

Yes yes? whistled the chocobo impatiently, shaking water from her crown feathers.

Taran pointed at his pack. Tika guard. Drink water, guard things. He'd let the chocobo play as long as she didn't let anyone go through his packs.

Tika guard, the chocobo echoed, then used her beak to splash water in his direction. Water water!

Taran sighed, shaking water off his pants legs. So much for being clean and dry. Edea would have to forgive him dripping a little bit. Later, he told the bird. Taran play later.

Tika waarked sadly, ducking her head under the water to blow bubbles at him through her beak - an indication she would really like to play games in the water. Taran shook his head and waved to her, and she whistled a farewell as he stepped back out of the bath house into the walkway that connected it to the rest of Edea's residence. At least he was more damp than dripping.

Now that he wasn't focusing on avoiding notice, Taran felt more comfortable exploring the rooms he wandered through - following his nose as before, but this time following the faint odor of food rather than Edea's perfume. It wasn't long before he could hear the sound of children arguing ("That's my cup!" "Don't hog it!" "I'm telling Matron!") and shook his head. How on earth did Matron keep track of so many?

When he rounded a bend and entered a room that must once have been a whole house, now filled with tables and benches - and one very long table laid out with food and plates - he had to stop and stare. There were so many children! And - he noted with understanding - a few older boys and girls, possibly in their teens, going from table to table helping the younger ones get their food, or holding babies and toddlers on their laps. So that was the alternative to SeeD, was it? Staying here and becoming part of the staff?

Lacking any better idea of what to do, Taran grabbed a plate and an unidentifiable strip of very well-done meat, along with at least a sampling of every plant offered. Some he knew as being native to Centra, others he vaguely remembered from his childhood in Deling City, but variety was greatly welcomed. Having to reach over the heads of hungry five year olds was a new experience as well, but thankfully Edea found him by the time he'd finished getting a broad sampling of the offered food and directed him to sit at a table of teens, at her right hand.

"These are the ones who stay behind to help me," Edea said softly. "I couldn't run the orphanage without their help."

Taran nodded, more than willing to concede that point. The others at the table seemed proud of the praise and suspicious of his presence in equal measure. Edea seemed to notice that as she noticed everything else, and addressed the table. "This is my guest for the evening, Taran ab Llew," she told them. "He's not used to company."

And they apparently weren't aware of how good his hearing was, either, as Taran clearly heard comments of "couldn't he brush that rat's nest out?" and "like we needed another mouth anyway", and blushed scarlet.

Edea, it seemed, also had good hearing - and her reprimand was stern. "A guest is a guest," she said firmly. Taran tried to focus on eating instead of listening, but Edea leaned over to whisper in his ear. "Irvine spoke for you."

Taran quickly found that startlement led to choking. He knew very well that some of the older ones at the table were already assuming he was some sort of potential lover, with Edea's whisper and his own red-faced embarrassment, but Edea seemed to enjoy their speculation - though she in no way encouraged it. When dinner ended and the children crowded out, she rose and faced him.

"Matron, why did you let them think I was here to -" Taran broke off. His face was hot enough as it was.

Edea laughed. "Partially because it will divert them from looking for any other reason for your presence when we know you didn't come in on a ship," she said. "And partly because I wanted to test you. Irvine said you were shy, and I used this evening to see if you were. I am more inclined to believe you are the Taran he described to me, now."

He blinked. "You didn't believe me, but you let me eat with the children?"

Edea held out her hand, palm up, and a small ball of fire flickered in her hand. "You sat at my right hand," she reminded him. "You would not have been able to attack my children without my being able to reach you first."

Taran wanted to touch the fireball, see if it burned - it was not much larger than a candleflame, and those didn't hurt him at all - but decided if it didn't he didn't want Edea getting upset. She was very courteous given his unknown status, but he didn't think she'd be so friendly if she thought he really was a threat. So he just nodded, and said, "What did Irvine say?"

Edea let the fire vanish, and led the way from the empty dining hall - back, he supposed, to the library. Now that supper was over, many rooms had at least one child in them - reading, or playing games of one kind or another. Edea had kind words for all of them, hugs for those who came to her wanting them, her magic healing broken toys and skinned knees alike. Taran followed silently, thinking it was no wonder the children loved her. He didn't recall his father or his foster father ever being so openly kind. Only Rinoa, and Rinoa alone had been rather in over her head with six children all at once. Edea bestowed attention among the several children with the ease of long familiarity, and seemed more than capable of fielding a dozen questions and problems at once.

Nor did tending to the children make her oblivious to her guest. "He confirmed that you are who you say you are," she said while running her fingers over cracks in a wooden duck. "That your abilities are as you described to me and as I've seen for myself, and he certainly understood your personality." She looked up with a smile. "I'll refrain from using his precise words."

Taran smiled ruefully. Irvine did seem to like teasing. "I guess I should settle for you believing me and be happy with that," he said.

Edea smiled. "You're welcome to stay here, you know, as long as you don't hurt the children."

"I can't," Taran replied sadly. "Your home is wonderful, Matron, and I like it very much, but I can't be here when SeeD comes. I can't run the risk of one of your children leaving with Balamb Garden and telling Seifer I'm here, either. There's too much at stake."

"More than just yourself?" Edea asked. "I can ask the children not to talk about you to anyone else, and Seifer is certainly not going to come barging in here to drag you away under my very nose." She smiled briefly. "He's one of my children too, Taran. Whatever disagreements he might have with you, they go no farther than my doorstep."

Taran was sorely tempted. A home, company, a life...but there were the others to consider. If Seifer knew he was here, he'd never be able to communicate with the others again - not even the daily 'still here' chirps on the open channels. Any communication he attempted would lead Seifer to them, and they were not under Edea's personal protection and probably didn't want to be. He couldn't abandon them. "I'm - I'm sorry," he said softly, shaking his head. "I'm honored, and I'm tempted, but I can't. Please don't ask me again."

Edea laughed. "Honored, are you? I asked as much because I am short of help than anything else, Taran. Most of the children want to leave by the time they're old enough for SeeD to take them. They want to go out, see the world..." she shrugged - a little wistfully, a little sad. "I've seen all of the world that it's safe for me to see," she said ruefully. "At least, the world has seen all of me that it would like to. Sorceresses...generally aren't welcome anywhere, you know."

Taran blinked, remembering the small fireball. "Matron, I thought you weren't a Sorceress any more?" he asked. "You passed your power on to Rinoa, so I was told..."

"Indeed I did, poor girl," Edea nodded. "But once a Sorceress...there's always a little of the power left." She called a small fireball to her hand, flickering above her palm, about the size of a cookflame. "I can't make it any larger than this, but it's enough to defend myself with - and enough to make people uneasy." She smiled softly. "I'm sure you understand."

Taran could only nod. It didn't matter what you could do, or how much of it you could do. If it was more than the average person would ever be able to do, it marked you.

Edea let the fire dissipate. "But - enough of this. You and I know these things already, don't we? There is no point depressing ourselves thinking about it. We can't change the past." She touched a long, slender finger to her lips. "Perhaps I can persuade you to sing for my children?" she asked. "You do have a very fine voice - and they would probably appreciate the entertainment if you know any children's songs. Do you play an instrument?"

"-," Taran eeped, jaw dropped. Was she asking him to set him at ease? Or did she really think he could keep her small army of children from boredom with the songs he sang to himself? "I - play instruments," he managed through the constriction in his throat.

"Do you?" Edea smiled. "Well then...I believe I have a guitar that you can play if you can tune it. I think the children have converted the piano into some kind of fort. Follow me, and I'll get it for you."

Taran obeyed, trailing along behind her in more than a little shock. A guitar! And an audience! And she was asking him to play! Of course, he had to tune the guitar first - probably as a test - but still. He'd been alone for perhaps two years now, and to go from nothing to such a profusion was boggling. Edea led him down hallways until she came to a door - one of many - that she unlocked with a ring of keys at her waist. It turned out to be a room, the size of a bedroom, converted into a storage closet. Edea lifted a guitar off a shelf and called a small breeze to blow the dust from it. "Here," she said, holding it out to him. "It must stay here, of course, I can't give it to you - but I don't play very well and the children tend to lose interest if they can't see what something can be like. Choose a room, tune it, and play the song you sang earlier today. If they like it, they'll come to listen." She smiled. "I hope you can take requests."

It was all Taran could do not to hug the fragile guitar. He'd missed being able to play, he must be so rusty by now, even fingering chords in the air as practice. "I'll try," he said weakly. He had no idea what songs children would want to hear - he hoped they would want to hear old ones, that he knew, rather than new ones he probably hadn't heard. Edea led him out to a sitting room, and indicated a chair.

"They'll hear you here, if you play," she said, nestling into a different chair. "And it's been a while since I heard music myself. Centra is not exactly on any entertainment circuit." She smiled. "It's all right if you're out of practice. I won't mind. And it will make you welcome here whenever you choose to visit."

Taran almost shoved the guitar away from him. "I can't," he said, visibly torn. "I can't - come back, I can't stay."

Edea sighed, shaking her head. "If it were only yourself you were concerned for, Taran, you could come here occasionally and play - as I can see you would very much like to do. Who do you fear for?"

"Matron, I am not Squall's only child," Taran said quietly - he didn't want it carrying down the hall. "I'm one of six - and they're all like me in that they have things they can do. We split up, all of us, and Seifer will take any of us he can catch. Even - even if I stayed here, under your protection, he'd know where I was. He'd be able to trace the communications I share with them, and find them, and they aren't under your protection, Matron. I can't let him find them."

"One of six?" Edea asked, her eyebrows raised. "My, my. It seems I've done Irvine a disservice, because I think he's managed to tell me less than the whole story for a change."

She fell silent, thinking something over, and Taran busied himself with tuning the guitar. It hadn't had the best care in the world, but it was tuneable and playable. It had a pleasantly shimmery sound as he tested the tuned strings, and he couldn't help smiling at it.

"You are their leader, aren't you," Edea said suddenly, and he startled. At his wide-eyed surprise, she clarified. "Your - siblings, the other five. You are their leader. Is it because you look like Squall?"

Taran swallowed, wondering how she'd worked out he was the leader. "No, Matron. We didn't know he was our father until we were ten years old. I'm their leader because...because they chose me to be. I'm not the biggest, the strongest, the fastest, or the most powerful. I'm just the only one nobody really objected to, I think."

Edea smiled, a secretive smile. "There's more to being a leader than that, Taran. It's how I knew you had to be the one they look to, even though I don't know who they are. I don't suppose I'll ever see them, these siblings of yours? Would they come looking for you?"

"Only if I disappeared," Taran said. "We talk a little, every day - to make sure we're all still free and all right. If I quit doing that, I think some of them would come looking for me. You'd meet them then, because this is the only settlement on the continent." He paused. "I don't think I need to give you their names or descriptions, you won't need that to know they're my brothers and sisters. If strangers come here looking for me, tell them to eyeshift. If they can, they're one of my brothers or sisters." He demonstrated, letting his gray eyes shift from human gray to sparking fields of yellow-white. "This is my eyeshift. Theirs would look different, but we're the only ones who can do this. Well, and people with an advanced junction - I saw Zell do it once." He frowned, thinking. "None of them are SeeDs...you know what I mean, right? They won't act like SeeDs."

"I understand," nodded Edea. "Though SeeDs can be very good undercover agents, Taran."

"True," Taran agreed, thinking hard. "Gwynt. Gwynt would have to be with them. I doubt any SeeD could pull off pretending to be him for very long."

The old Sorceress looked somewhat torn between amusement and composure. "Wind? Thunder and wind."

"Yes," said Taran, not really paying attention. "Gwynt is short - he's about Zell's height...um, about this big," he clarified, standing up and holding up his hand when he remembered it had been a long time since the Matron could have seen Zell. "He's broader across the shoulders than I am, very solid, very loud." He rolled his eyes. "You'll understand if you ever see him. Loud all over. Just don't tell him I said that, he's pretty touchy most of the time. Brown eyes, brown curly hair...last time I saw him it was down to his shoulders. He likes purple and yellow, because that's his eyeshift. Purple and yellow that swirl faster when he's upset. And a deep voice that carries. Boy does it. His power is Pandemona's wind. That's why he'd have to be in any group that came down here - he'd either be captaining the ship that brings them, or flying the plane."

"I see," said Edea calmly, though Taran thought he caught hints of laughter around the edges of her eyes and mouth. "And he is your brother?"

"Half brother," Taran corrected. "He's my age - don't ask!" he stopped her, as she looked about to object, surprised. "It's all very...involved. Irvine will confirm what I've told you, Matron. Gwynt and the others are my half-siblings. The only full siblings among us are my twin half-sisters."

Edea remained silent for a long moment, watching Taran. "I begin to suspect you enjoy drawing this out, Taran," she said quietly. "There is obviously a very important story here that I am not to know. Needless to say, the information you give me is barely credible, and Irvine is not the most believable of witnesses."

Taran sighed. "He's the only one who really knows us all," he said. "And he's the only one allowed to tell you any of the story. I'm sorry, Matron, but I gave my word."

"And you do not break your word," Edea finished. "Commendable, but frustrating." She thought for a moment, then shook her head and sighed. "You may well be right, Taran. This might not be the place for you, though it pains me to admit it. Still, you are my guest for the night. Do you want to play?"

Comments at supper came back to him, and he set the guitar down, pulling his hair over his shoulder. It was mostly dry now, and 'rat's nest' was an apt description. "I should get this sorted out first," he said ruefully. "If you have a brush, or a comb, I could use?"

"Of course," she replied, standing up. "Wait here."

Taran busied himself with sorting through the larger tangles while he waited. The baby shampoo helped a great deal, but he'd not been able to make himself presentable in several months, nor had much need to, and his hair was matted in several places. When Edea handed him a sturdy brush, he attacked his hair fiercely with it until he got it all sorted out, then tightly re-braided it by feel until he could bring the half finished braid around his neck to where he could see it. The end he tied with a leather thong wrap. "Am I presentable for entertainment now?" he asked as he flipped the braid to his back.

Edea laughed. "Worlds better than the desert rat I found this morning," she agreed. "I might accuse you of vanity. By all means, play. The children awake enough to hear will come."

Taran found Edea's amusement contagious, laughing with her. It was such a relief to feel human for a while, talking of small silly things and laughing over them. He'd missed voices and laughter.

The song he'd sung earlier was a sad one, and it was all to easy to remember the mood for it. All he had to do was remember that tomorrow he would have to continue on his way. He touched fingers to the strings, playing the song through first, pure instrumental to remember the chordings. Two years since he'd touched a guitar, but he was pleased to note the skill came back to his fingers quickly. On the second verse he began to sing.

I keep looking back, a lifetime back, across the desert
In a desert, where no one can explain
You tell me God is dancing in the rain...

Edea was right; at the sound of singing, some of the doors opened. Taran paid strict attention to his music; he'd never performed for anyone not family before, and didn't want to mess it up.

I can hear the echo in a maze of words
A lonely voice behind a door
Can you hear me calling from a world away
A lonely voice behind a door?

The children were a wonderful first audience, too; Edea had taught all of them very well. They filtered into the room and took seats, being very quiet so as not to disturb his music. Taran appreciated the courtesy; he was sure the attention was making him blush. He certainly felt hot enough.

I keep looking back, traditions back across the centuries
In a century where no one can explain
You tell me God is dancing in the rain...

He'd always rather liked this song; it was melancholy but not oppressively so, and he'd always liked the idea of a god dancing in the rain. It was one of those things he enjoyed whenever he got the chance; one of the nicer things about being alone was being able to do silly fun things without being laughed at.

I can hear the echo in a maze of words
A lonely voice behind a door
Can you hear me calling from a world away
A lonely voice behind a door?

And that was true too. Taran had never really felt part of any group. He was always on the outside, looking in...which wasn't all bad, but it was lonely.

As I stare ahead, a dream ahead, across an ocean
'Cross an ocean where there's nothing to explain
You tell me God is laughing in the rain...

He was nearing the last chorus, so he tried to add feeling to the words without adding volume. He'd gotten enough earaches from the way Gwynt's bass voice could echo around a room that he didn't really have much respect for loud singing. Loud didn't mean good.

I can hear the echo in a maze of words
A lonely voice behind a door
Can you hear me calling from a world away
A lonely voice behind a door?

He let the guitar echo into silence. For a moment he thought he'd done badly, as the children just stared at him, and then everyone started talking at once - requests, Taran thought, but so many at once meant he couldn't discern one from another.

In the background he heard Edea's laughter, and that was what told him everything was all right.

The song is October Project's A Lonely Voice.