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Author's Note

This continues a re-telling of my Homelands series. I'm proud of the original versions but don't feel that they lived up to their full potential. This time around, you can expect a slower pace, stronger characterization, and a less grandiose plot. This is no longer an epic fantasy, with a huge battle between good and evil waiting at the end. If you read the original versions, you should feel as though you're revisiting old friends, but you shouldn't assume that you know how their story ends. If you haven't, there is no need to do so. This re-telling is meant to stand on its own and is my preferred version of the tale.

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Against all odds, Frank's curiosity edged out his apprehension and even his lust. Part of him was aware that he shared a confined space with a very, very attractive woman, but he somehow managed not to let that become too much of a distraction.

It wasn't easy, though.

His mother occupied the first three spots on his top five list, but his grandmother was fighting hard to claim one of the other two. That she wasn't doing anything but sitting there with her drink in hand, regarding him out of the corner of her eye, was of little consequence; she didn't have to do anything but be herself. That body would have insisted upon itself even if Frank hadn't been sure that considerable intellect lurked behind her sly grin.

For most of his life, Frank had thought his grandmother a sweet little old lady whose ready smile and unending supply of caramel candies compensated for her lack of intellectual firepower. She'd never waded into the debates her husband provoked, leaving Frank to wonder whether she shared his small-mindedness or merely tolerated it; whether Grandpa Dick had convinced her that politics was a man's domain and thus she oughtn't worry her pretty little head over matters beyond her comprehension. He'd never met the real Noreen, though; the woman he'd thought of as his grandmother was little more than a stage performance. In some ways, she was worse than a stranger to him?at least when he met someone new, Frank had no priors in need of updating. All the cells in his mental spreadsheet were blank. How much of what he thought he knew was incorrect? Not all of it, surely. His estimate of her IQ, though, had to be.

The possibilities both fascinated and enticed Frank, though other mysteries had his attention for the time being. Where were they were headed, and how? Was the palace where day met night in any way connected? What did his grandmother know about that?

On the outside, their improbable mode of transportation looked like something out of the nineteenth century. Frank thought the train wasn't a relic from that time, though, but had instead been plucked out of history and dropped into the modern era. Or conjured out of thin air by someone with old-fashioned sensibilities. There was no sign of rust or oxidation, even around the wheels, and it didn't look like a fresh coat of paint had been slapped on old passenger cars. He'd dragged the tips of his fingers along the green exterior, finding no bumps or irregularities. It had hardly come as a surprise, then, when he'd followed his grandmother inside and found a luxury apartment with ultra-modern decor. Black carpeting lined the floor, the walls and ceiling were gunmetal gray, and an L-shaped bar with a polished granite top, shiny wooden paneling, and matching stools occupied one corner. Behind it hung a flat screen TV and a pair of powerful speakers. The lighting came not form oil lamps but LED bulbs. A light gray couch, with black throw pillows, extended from the nearest wall.

A not-uncomfortable silence had hung over them since they'd departed a few minutes ago, but his grandmother finally said, "So are you gonna ask any of the questions that are making your head hurt?" She held up a hand to forestall any insistence that he was just taking everything in. "You certainly don't have to. It's just that I'm starting to get a headache of my own watching your wheels spin." She paused to raise the cocktail glass to her lips. "I gave you the green stub because I figured you'd be the most inquisitive."

"Not because you find me more attractive than your other grandsons?" Frank asked. His mother was practically his already, even though he'd ignored Dom's advice, so perhaps he was feeling a bit bold. The need to know was indeed causing distress, however; his grandmother was right about that. The pumpkin beer she'd poured for him was helping with that, but only so much. "That palace we kept getting blown to," he added before she could even react to the first part. "Is it in Autumn?"

His choice of words drew an amused snort. "I've no idea where it is."

"Meaning that you either can't or won't answer the question?"

"No," his grandmother said. Her response was calm, if pointed. Any offense she took was small enough to be washed away by a sip of her apple martini. "Okay, it's not in Autumn; I can tell you that much. That's about poker oyna all I can tell you, though."

"Did you...create Autumn?"

His grandmother nearly spilled her drink, and those huge breasts of hers came even closer to spilling out of her cami. Loose as the plaid blouse was, the undergarment couldn't have squeezed her girls any tighter. It pretty much had to, though, since she was forcing it to do the work of a bra as well. "How powerful do you think I am?"

The only answer Frank could give was a shrug. There was something about the way she'd answered his previous question, like she knew everything there was to know about Autumn, that had given him that impression. Confused as he was, though, about every-fucking-thing, he didn't even know what questions to ask. He was shooting in the dark.

"So is this some sort of initiation ceremony? One we all go through?"

"Not all of us," Noreen replied. "Autumn didn't even exist when I was your age."

Frank raised an eyebrow. When she'd scoffed at the notion that she could have created it, he'd figured that it was really old. Fantasy worlds always were. "But my mom did?"

His grandmother nodded. "Not long after Bobby came of age."

"How did it begin for you?"

"You're not gonna believe me," she said with a frown, "but I don't remember."

She was right; Frank didn't believe her. Not completely.

"I grew up in the mortal world," his grandmother informed him. "The real one."

"Where did I grow up?"

A wan smile answered. "The world we just left is a poor facsimile. In broad strokes, it's the same, but the details lack richness. The colors are dull and the smells faint."

"Seemed pretty colorful to me."

His grandmother shrugged. "I suppose it would, to someone who doesn't know the difference." She sighed and stared off into the distance. "Believe me, Frank, if you ever set foot in the real world, you'd be amazed. There's just more, of everything."

One of the first assignments he'd been given in grad school was to propose a test of the hypothesis that the world had been created a few moments ago by an all-powerful but mischievous entity who sought to trick everyone into thinking that there'd actually been a past. The goal had been to get them thinking about non-falsifiability, the scientific method, and all that shit, but Frank suddenly wondered if his professor had been on to something without realizing it. If his grandmother was to believed, that wasn't too far off.

"There are gaps in my memory, rather large ones, but what I do recall is quite vivid," she continued. "I'd give anything to go back there, even just for a day."

"Are you not allowed to?"

"Afraid not," Noreen replied. "We're free to come and go as we please between Autumn and its echo of the mortal world, but our travel is otherwise restricted." Seeing his reaction. "That's not as bad as it sounds, though. Certainly not worth risking war over."

Frank raised an eyebrow. "Has someone proposed that we do that?"

"Not in so many words. The path they've put us on, however, is tantamount to such."

Scratching at his beard, Frank said, "I've gotta say, I'm pretty fucking lost."

"There are many Courts in the Homelands," his grandmother said. "And many levels of reality, according to legend. On the only one you and I will ever reach, there are six courts: the four seasonals, the Eternal Garden of the Sun, and the Shadowed Glade of the Moon. Those two are as old as time, and exist on every plane. Some say they're the inspiration for myths about heaven and hell, respectively, though I'm not so sure about that."

That was a lot to take in. Frank sipped his beer to buy some time to mull it all over, then asked an easy question. "The seasonals would be Autumn, Winter, Summer, and Spring?"

"Good guess, kiddo."

"It's not them you're worried about, though, is it?"

"Indeed not," Noreen said with a proud smile. She drew a deep breath, which made her chest do some very interesting things. "Our president?"

"By which you don't mean the occupant of the White House," he interrupted.

His grandmother snorted. "I suppose it does sound silly, a court ruled by a president. The Garden and the Glade are traditional monarchies, and we get a lot of terminology from them. At least, they used to have kings; no one's seen them for ages, so it's anyone's guess who's in charge nowadays. That's besides the point, though. Autumn's democratic. Less so than when I was in power, but we'll see what we can do about that."

"You were president?" There was just so much to process.

She sat up straighter, puffing out her chest. That was just cruel. Those things thrust out pretty fucking far all on their own. "Bet you thought I never did anything interesting."

Frank held his hands up in protest. "I didn't say that."

"Just thought it."

"Well, I certainly didn't think you ruled over a fantasy world named for a time of year."

After canlı poker oyna plucking the apple slice that garnished her drink off the rim of her glass, Noreen bit it in half and threw the remainder at him. Frank might have blocked the projectile but was too busy being aroused by the sight of her taking the fruit into her mouth. Of her pearly whites sinking gently into the pale flesh, producing a soft yet crisp sound. He wasn't sure he'd want her to do the same to his cock, but he'd probably have let her. Anything to get between those pumpkin-colored lips. Not that he'd change is mind if they went back to red.

"So your successor has pursued a more hawkish foreign policy?" Frank asked as though nothing had happened and he wasn't having trouble keeping his mind out of the gutter. "That all sounds...awfully mundane. I was promised a magical paradise."

"Who said that?" his grandmother asked, raising an eyebrow.

Well, he supposed his mother hadn't quite said that, but she'd come close.

"I hope you're not expecting a tropical island, because it's more like upstate New York in mid-October," Noreen said. "And it's like that all year round."

"We have years, then?"

She took another sip of her martini. "Time works the way you're used to, though it doesn't move at the same rate there as in our echo of the mortal world. I think that's only because someone did us a favor, though, realizing that there's comfort in familiarity. Autumn's not a planet nor does it orbit the sun. It doesn't even orbit the Eternal Garden of the Sun, as you might be thinking. It's just sorta there, like all the Courts, surrounded by a void emptier than outer space." A pensive look spread across her face. "I'm not even sure it's physical distance that separates us from the other worlds, strictly speaking."

"I see," Frank said. The pumpkin ale was delicious; that much he knew. At the moment, it felt like the only thing he knew, but at least it was something.

"There's not much to complain about otherwise," his grandmother said, as though fall in upstate New York was anything other than idyllic. "We don't have to work or pay bills, or deal with any of life's little stresses. If we could just convince everyone to be content with what we've got, letting go of what we can't get back, it would be pretty close to perfect."

"No matter where you go, people are people," Frank said. "And people suck."

"Whether they're immortal or not," his grandmother agreed, raising her glass in salute.

As bonding experiences went, that one was pretty depressing. "For the record," Frank said, "fall's my favorite time of year. I can't think of anywhere better to spend it than a place you'd describe as what I thought of as upstate New York, only better."

Noreen smiled. "I'm glad you feel that way." Their eyes met and time seemed to slow. The faintest glimmer appeared in her brown eyes and her orange lips stretched in a grin he found tantalizing. "Of course, you don't have much to compare it to. You probably never realized it, but nothing beyond North America made it into our simulation."

"It's a simulation now?"

With a shrug, his grandmother said, "I've never settled on a single description."

"Hasn't got anything to do with computers, though?" Frank knew that there were many different kinds of simulations, but in recent years, it had come to have a certain connotation.

"Indeed not," his grandmother said. "It's a place of magic, and not just because it's inhabited by immortals. I don't know if I'd quite say it has an energy all its own, but things that would have been impossible in the world we just left happen there all the time without any of us causing them to." She sighed wistfully. "I wish I could tell you how it all worked."

Funny, Frank wished she could too.

Noreen set her glass on the bar. "I think that's enough Q