When I woke up, the young woman and man were standing on the ceiling.

Or . . . wait, I was upside down. Yeah, that made more sense.

My head had a faint pulsing at the base of my skull— without my nanites, there would have been some serious throbbing from that plank-to-face contact—and my hands and legs had been bound tightly. Was I tied to the wall? Yeah, they’d hung me from the ceiling beam, then tied my hands behind me. I wondered what they’d wrapped the rope around.

It was an innovative interrogation technique, so I gave it a point for originality, but . . . wouldn’t a chair be more effective? It was an old standby for a reason. (Three stars. Watch more spy movies and report back.)

As soon as I opened my eyes, the woman stepped forward. She had blond hair in tight curls that barely reached her collar, and wore a black sleeveless dress over a white dress that was longer through the sleeves and hem. It had some nice maroon embroidery on the neck, but the white ropes wrapping her waist had a frayed look, giving it an intentional, handmade air.

She narrowed her eyes.

Right then. How to get out of this? The shame and fear I’d felt before had faded completely, replaced with embarrassment. I obviously had physical augments, but I’d stood there and let a woman plank me in the face. Unprofessional.

“You’ve made a terrible mistake,” I told her.

She didn’t respond, instead cocking her head.

“I’m a very powerful being,” I told her. “You have angered me.”

The young man hid behind her, peeking out at me. He seemed unremarkable—a shorter fellow with similar blond curls and a slight build. Upon closer inspection, he looked younger than I’d assumed. Perhaps only fifteen or sixteen.

“Sefawynn,” he hissed, “I don’t think the inversion is doing anything. He still has his powers!”

“Has he eaten you yet, Wyrm?” the woman asked.

“No.”

“Then the inversion is working,” she said.

“It’s not working,” I said. “I’m gathering my powers as we speak. Release me now, or I’ll bring fire and destruction upon your house.”

The woman narrowed her eyes further, then raised both hands, fingers up and thumbs out toward one another. Then she spoke.

“I live the last light / of lovings long-lost.

Care-keeper I am / and ken my kindred.”

As she finished, both of them leaned closer, as if to see the effect on me.

“Poetry?” I said. “That was nice.”

The youth squeezed the woman’s arm. “Try a stronger boast.”

She nodded, and made the same sign with her hands before speaking again.

“I banished the beast / of Bastion’s Barrow.

Song-sounder I am / and sing out strongest.”

I frowned, and both of them shied back.

“Not even a flinch,” the youth whispered. “That’s bad, isn’t it, Sefawynn?”

“I don’t know,” she said, folding her arms. “I’ve never loosed an aelv before.” She tapped her index finger against her arm. “Fetch the little father, but do it quietly, so the visitors don’t hear you.”

The boy nodded, then paused.

“I’ll be fine,” the woman said without looking at him. “The inversion has rendered him helpless.”

“But he said—”

“Once again, Wyrm,” she said, “have you been eaten?”

He looked down, as if he needed to check.

“If the aelv’s powers weren’t bound,” she said, “we wouldn’t be standing here. We’d either be controlled by him, or we’d be puddles of human juice, mashed to the floor. Go fetch the little father. I’ll be fine.”

The youth bobbed a nod, then hurried out the door. I revised my assessment of his age downward again. Perhaps he was big for his age.

“Could you at least put me right-side up?” I said to the woman. “I’m starting to feel light-headed.”

She studied me, and didn’t respond.

“So . . .” I said. “You keep calling me an . . . eelev? I’m not rightly aware of what that is. Maybe you could fill a guy in?”

No response.

“That younger fellow is your brother?” I asked. “And you’re the lord’s daughter?” They had to be—both she and the boy were dressed better than the others in this town. But why did she call the lord “little” father?

Yeah, she wasn’t saying anything.

“You saw the boy’s weapon bounce off my arm,” I said. “I’m warning you. I’m a powerful person, and I’m growing upset.”

Her eyes were like steel, her face completely expressionless. Zero stars. Would rather have a conversation with a corpse. It wouldn’t glare at me the entire time. Would probably listen better too.

I turned my attention to my augments. Obviously I had improvement on my forearms. Those were called . . . platings. That’s it. I had a microfilament mesh under my skin, backed up by structural nanites and bone reinforcements. Basically, it would take an industrial-strength laser or a military-grade weapon to cut through my flesh—as long as my nanites continued to function. Another augmented person could punch me senseless with enough time, but I’d be invulnerable to a bunch of medieval peasants.

As I thought of it, I instinctually called up a visual overlay display. It listed my augments and their status. Hot damn! I had platings from the tips of my fingers all the way up to my shoulders and across my back. Another set ran along my legs, from my thighs down to my feet. Both sets also worked for force redistribution and gave me some strength advantages, mostly in gripping ability.

Those were extremely expensive augments. It wasn’t uncommon to start plating a few body parts, then move on to others. Most people would go for the head and the chest first. That made the most sense.

However, my nanite-healed concussion indicated I hadn’t done that. I frowned at the menu. I did have skull and chest platings—but they were listed as nonfunctional. What the hell?

I had the vague impression that I hadn’t paid for the augments, that I worked for a living and didn’t have that kind of money. So maybe . . . whoever had purchased my augments hadn’t finished installing my head and chest platings? But why were my arm, leg, and back platings functional?

My memory provided no answers, so I tried to untie myself. Unfortunately, the knots were good, and my enhanced grip strength wouldn’t help if I couldn’t reach the ropes. None of the muscles in my chest seemed to be augmented, as a little exploratory flexing didn’t lead to me ripping free or anything. I probably looked silly, though.

Eventually, the door opened, and the oil lamps on the table sputtered as two figures entered. One was the youth from earlier—Wyrm, she’d called him? The other was Orange-cloak. Muscular, and a good six-foot-four, this fellow towered over the woman. His beard was streaked with grey, as was his hair, and he looked to be in his midforties. But man, he looked like he could have gotten into a boxing match with a boulder, and won.

Weren’t people in the past supposed to be much shorter than modern people or something?

“I’ll be frank, Little Father,” said the young woman—what had her name been? “I have no idea what to do with this one.”

“What is he?” the lord asked, eyes narrowing as he studied my jeans—now fully on display, with the bottom of my tunic flopping down to the tie about my waist.

“Not a landswight,” she said, “since we can all see him fully. But look. He’s clean-shaven as any woman, with shorn hair, feminine hands—”

“Hey!” I said.

“—and not a particularly muscular build—”

“I’m considered quite athletic among my people.”

“—plus pale skin and delicate features through the face,” she finished. “Also note the perfect teeth and pristine nails. I know the lore, Little Father. This man matches the descriptions of an aelv perfectly.”

“Not a god, then,” the lord said, relaxing.

“Plenty dangerous,” the woman said. “Perhaps more so. A god would want something natural of us. An aelv . . .”

“He took one of the offerings, Little Father,” the youth said. “The incantation. He didn’t care for the food or drink.”

“Written word,” the lord said, stepping closer to me. “Did you bring it to our realm, aelv, or did its arrival draw you? What can we do to appease and loose you?”

“Cut me free,” I said in my most intimidating voice, “and apologize for the treatment I’ve suffered.”

The lord smiled. I’d been prepared to see a mouth full of dingy, rotting teeth. I’d been wrong about that guess as well, as he seemed to have all of his teeth—and while they weren’t pristine white, they weren’t rotting either. They weren’t exactly straight, but for a guy living in a time before dentists, his smile wasn’t half bad. (Two and a half stars. Won’t break the camera.)

“Cut you free?” the lord said. “You think I’ve never heard a ballad before, aelv?”

“It was worth a try,” I said. “Very well. I shall require a berry that has never seen the sun, two stones polished by a frog, and one leaf of nightshade—in return I shall leave your quaint village with a blessing and return to my people.”

The lord glanced at the woman, who shrugged.

“I’ll . . . see what can be done,” the lord told me.

“Or,” I said, “you could tell those two men looking for me that I’m here? Then you could turn me over to them . . . ?”

“Ha!” the lord said. “You are very cunning! But as you aren’t red-haired, nor do you have the features of a foreigner, I don’t believe they want you.”

Wait.

The men weren’t looking for me?

The lord turned to the woman. “I need to attend the earl’s messengers before they find my absence strange,” the man said to her. “Something is odd about them, about this entire day. Will you stay here, or join me?”

“I’ll stay,” she said. “Take my brother; send him with word if anything else unusual happens.”

Orange-cloak nodded to her and left, the younger man trailing after him. I found his interaction with the woman curious. She wasn’t bowing or scraping nearly as much as I might have assumed. Barely a mi’lord mentioned.

I really should throw away everything I thought I’d known about the past.

The woman was still watching me. Great. Was this going to be another “conversation” with a wall?

“Look,” I said, “can we—”

“Let’s cut the lies, stranger,” she interrupted. “I know what you really are.”