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those of an actual human. Her face, too, was rather elfin, the cheekbones and chin being delicately drawn.
    While Penelope’s human body was kept shaved for considerations of hygiene, her avatar had extraordinary, vibrant long tresses whose coils swayed as she walked and whose wisps lay about her head catching little glints of light like a halo. Normally her hair was a shiny raven black, but recently Penelope had favored a rather garish purple. Apart from this lurid coloration the avatar certainly was a pleasant creation, quite in keeping with her role as a princess in Edda.
    It was a puzzle to Ambassador, and an important one, to determine exactly what incentive Penelope needed for her to remain a productive unit. A few years ago, she had been much easier to understand. It had perhaps been somewhat demeaning for Ambassador to be observed by the other manifestations playing hide-and-seek with the little girl. But a high degree of autonomy was required in order to discover the ingenious hiding places of the human, and he had been the logical choice.
    Penelope had once delighted in the vast scale of the castle and had relished exploring its long corridors, tall towers, and hidden chambers. Quite apart from a desire to intimidate his rivals with the scale of his achievements, Lord Scanthax had needed somewhere to house the captured belongings of a thousand lords and ladies from a thousand different regions. It once had been a highly successful motivational strategy to allow Penelope to dress up her avatar in the flared silk suits popular in the southern continent; to brandish a fan made from feathers of a rare equatorial bird; and to wear the jewelry created by the rulers of the tallest mountains of the west, Edda’s greatest source of sapphire, opal, and emerald. But it had been more than two years since Penelope had shown the slightest interest in the wealth and curiosities housed in the castle.
    Today, Princess stood with her back to Ambassador and her face in shadow. And it seemed to Ambassador that even more complex than the visible patterns of light and dark on her velvet dress were the invisible and unfathomable motions of Penelope’s soul. No longer would games please her, nor praise. She was becoming unpredictable and unreadable.
    Outside, a waterfall—scripted by Penelope in an era when the castle was deemed to no longer require its full defenses—sent up rainbows as the sun declined toward the west.
    “How odd that in Edda I could climb those cliffs if I chose. I could run vast distances without feeling tired. Yet in my natural habitat, the world into which I was born, I can’t even reach that stupid library.” Princess turned and gestured that he should sit. “You know, seriously, I’ve let myself get out of shape. Schedule more exercise sessions, please. Like, double the current routine.”
    Ambassador gave a nod, and his hands took hold of the back of a plush chair as he attempted to appraise her mood. Resigned? Reflective? Or rebellious and resolute in her mutinous desire to reach the humans’ library?
    “That was pathetic. I’m a wreck back there.”
    “Not at all, Penelope. You are in good health and have a most harmonious set of proportions between your body parts; it is just that the environment is so hostile outside your apartments.”
    “Oh, you flatterer. What is it that you want, by the way? You’ve been hanging around me a lot recently.”
    Inadvertently, Ambassador’s gaze left her pale face and flicked to the dresser, where the captured gun lay. And while this did not escape her notice, it did no harm.
    “Ah, yes, of course. More scripting. The first part of our new agreement. Let’s set to work while I’m in the mood, shall we?”
    “Very good, Princess.” This unexpected and delightful response filled him with a surge of energy, and Ambassador almost skipped to the door, which he patiently held open while Penelope picked up the gun and a shoulder bag in which she kept her tools.