The Good Doctor's Tales Folio Six by Randall Farmer Page B

longer; the barn had a basement and a loft, and showed the obvious dross signs of Transform inhabitation).
    The Skinner had visited here, but he picked up no evidence of Arm dross inside the main house or the barn, just in the back yard and in several of the outbuildings.  He couldn’t blame them for not trusting the elder Arm, but how had they kept her out of the main house?  She must have chosen not to go in.  Why?
    Much of what h e understood about Gymnast and her household had to be wrong, because it was self-contradictory.  The worst was the story of Occum and the Inferno (the Crow term for this Focus household) house poet, Lament.  Lament was a favorite of the Crows who worshipped poetry.  One legend had Occum rescuing her from a Monster, another had Occum sending her fan letters and tricking Lament into thinking Occum was a Negro woman.  Another legend said Lament was a Transform diplomat who captured Occum, but later let him go.  Gilgamesh doubted any of these legends contained any truth.
    Sky had been absent from the household for a month, and had visited only sporadically in the months beforehand, yet the household was still relatively clear of dross.  Even stranger, none of the dross was sweet, the form of dross most Focuses, save the most pathetic enslaved ones, produced.  Instead, he picked up an earthy, mildly spicy flavor to some of the remaining dross, localized in one large room that dominated the bottom floor of the estate mansion.
    Gilgamesh wondered if he should leave, and return at the end of his planned trip, as he would be doing with Occum’s Beast Man infested place.  Too many mysteries, always unnerving for a Crow.  Yet, that was what he was trying to find – mysteries and anomalies.
    He concentrated his metasense on the Focus, who smiled and looked in his direction as he did so.  How did she notice his metasense use?  Talent and tricks.  Focus Rizzari’s glow was beautiful, more beautiful than any of the other Focuses he had taken the time to study.  Despite her almost Crow-like patience, as she waited for him, her inner self revealed her as forceful and curious, loyal and driven.  Almost Tiamat-like.
    Gilgamesh made his choice, and began to walk toward the Focus, crossing the street down the block, and then walking back toward Focus Rizzari.  His chosen trick this time, to get around the panic, was to concentrate on the Tiamat-like aspects of Focus Rizzari’s inner self.  He could cope with Tiamat.  He should be able to cope with a Tiamat-like Focus.
    Focus Rizzari stood when he ambled up the short slate and concrete walkway leading from the street to the mansion.  “Hello there,” she said.  She stuck out her hand and smiled.  “I’m Focus Lorraine Rizzari.”  Gilgamesh blinked and fought down panic – he hadn’t realized how short the Focus was, even shorter than the Skinner.
    “Gilgamesh,” he said, and took her hand.
    Of all things, the Focus’s household had a feeling of ‘home’.
     
    It was a pleasant night for late April in Boston, though Gilgamesh suspected it would rain tomorrow.  He sat at one end of the front porch, meditating, two of the household’s pet cats in his lap, three others rubbing up against his legs or asleep at his feet.  Opposite, Gymnast meditated with him.  Her people stayed mostly in her oversized house, though several were out in back, working on repairs to the wrecked cabana next to the pool or just enjoying the night air.  He hadn’t entered the oversized house yet, but he had walked the grounds.  Good dross suffused the cabana area, hot Keaton dross, a month old but not fully dried out.
    A meeting with Gymnast seemed a perfect place to start his investigations and establish his cover.  It helped that Gymnast was a quiet woman.  Her glow felt strong, but she was nowhere near as dark as Hera of Philadelphia or as different as Icon of Los Angeles.  She had also been as patient with him as Shadow and Thomas the