George returned to his room in the basement of the Art School. He could hear the man he called grandfather snoring in the room next door to his. Tired and barely holding his eyes open, he quickly stripped naked and crawled into bed. In the pitch darkness of the room he didn’t bother to look for the sheet or blanket that seemed to be missing from his bed. The room seemed warm enough and so the missing sheet and blanket seemed of little importance.

George thought he heard his grandfather get out of bed, perhaps to go to the privy, but then it dawned on him that he could still hear his grandfather snoring. All of a sudden George felt the heavy weight of someone pounce on top of him. He felt a knee in his balls and the cloth of a sheet tighten over his face. As he lifted his hands to try to remove the sheet from his face, he felt the coil of something, perhaps part of the sheet, tighten around his wrist. He felt relieved as the weight pressing against him slid to the side. But then he felt helpless as someone lifted him, trapped in the sheet, from the bed. He did his best to scream so as to wake his grandfather, but not a single sound could he make.

George hoped that someone might see him being carried from the Art School but if anyone did, they did nothing to help him. George heard the sound of a horse galloping and the wheels of a wagon. Then for a second, seemingly there was silence. The next sound he heard was that of a door opening. He felt whoever was holding him change position. He felt someone’s hand on his privates and another hand under his chin. Then he felt himself being tossed in the air. No sooner had he landed with a bang did he realize he had been thrown into the wagon he’d heard. He bounced to one side and then another as the horse pulling the wagon sped down the dirt path behind the Art School. The bouncing helped work the sheet from around his head. As he worked to free his wrist from where they had been bound together he looked up. He saw a gypsy woman standing over him and pointing a sword directly at him. He thought for sure she planned to kill him and his eyes widened in fear.

The gypsy woman laughed. “My name is Magadelion and I want you for my niece.” Magadelion then used the sword, swinging it in a single swift motion to cut away the coil that bound George’s wrist. Magadelion stated, “My niece has some talent…” She didn’t finish the mention of her niece’s talent with a sword.

George interrupted her. “I’m sure your niece is very good in bed but…”

“IN BED!” Magadelion screamed with laughter. “I’m sure both of you would be very good in bed together but that is not what she needs you for.”

George rubbed his wrist, now free but still stinging from having been tied. Standing up in the wagon, the sheet slipped to his ankles. “Why have you kidnapped me?”

“My niece was in love with a man similar to yourself.” Magadelion reached down to take the sheet and handed it to George who was not in the mood to be bashful. Then turning her head to avoid staring at George she said, “I do see why Mrs. Hugo took a chance with loving you.”

George pulled the sheet around himself. “You know of the affair?”

“I predicted the affair, but never mind that. Let us talk about my niece and what we need from you.”

George sat down on the wagon seat next to Magadelion. “You said your niece was in love. You used the word was.”

“He was murdered by Napoleon III.”

“So you are after revenge?”

“We know we can’t get revenge? Only Joseph can get revenge.”

“Who is Joseph?”

“The man my niece loved and who Louis Napoleon murdered.”

George shook his head. “How can a dead man get revenge?”

“You should not be asking how, you should be asking where.”

“So I ask.”

“And I answer, the where, the place is Sitnalta.”

“So Joseph is a Thinkster.”

“We need you to find Joseph in Sitnalta. We need you to tell him that he was betrayed by Louis.”

George shook his head. “I’ve never entered Sitnalta.  I can never get beyond the gates.”

“Don’t tell me that.  You are the only living Thinkster that I know of who is controlled by a different master from Napoleon.”

“How do you know that I am controlled by a different master?”

“Joseph told me about you before he was murdered.”

“Joseph knew about me?”

“He knew.”

“Why would he tell you about me before he died?”

“That is not important.”

“Why should I trust you? This does not make sense. Why did you choose to kidnap me rather than just come to me and talk with me about this?”

“This was the only certain way that I knew I would be able to talk with you and avoid Louis interfering.”

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