My schedule!  My beautiful scheduling!  *sob*  *sniff*

Don Juan's adventure of super-powered people and their
lives... soon to be in stereo...

					Switch, for Don Juan
					"The summer's takin' it's time!"

------------------------------------------------------------------
The Three-fold God's Path

A DragonBall fanfic by

Nikholas "Don Juan" F. Toledo


episode 3:  The Scroll of the Gods


	"Why can't I beat him anymore?"  

	Goten felt lost and extremely depressed.  This was not like him at 
all.  He normally just bounced back from bad events and lived with them.  
Now...  

	It was the fact that Trunks had somehow left him behind.  Trunks had 
been his best friend for as long as Goten could remember, and they used to 
do nearly everything together.  They trained, studied, played and fought 
together.  Then, one summer Vegita took Trunks to train, alone, off on some 
deserted island.  And when they came back, Trunks was different.  Stronger, 
tougher, Goten had expected that.  But something else had changed between 
them.  

	Trunks was now the most powerful fighter on earth.  Gohan was more 
powerful but had given up fighting.  Goten's father was off on some quest to 
find some lost alien master of some lost fighting art.  Goten didn't usually 
mind that his father was always gone.  He'd gotten used to it.  There were 
times when it seemed that his father was dead as often as he was alive.  But 
this time, Goten wished that his father could be here, to help train him so 
that he could become Trunks' equal again.  

	Of course, at present Trunks was stronger than Goku too, so maybe it 
didn't matter that his father wasn't here to help.  

	For a while, Goten had tried training under Vegita.  But Vegita was 
too harsh a teacher; there was just no chemistry between them.  True, he 
sincerely did his best to push Goten towards becoming better, but his way of 
doing it...  just didn't work with Goten.  Goten supposed that maybe Trunks 
had just grown closer to his father...  and if that was what had changed, 
then maybe it wasn't such always a good thing to become closer to one's 
father.  Like Vegita, Trunks had become harsh, his sense of humor tinged 
with a hard edge of cruelty.  

	Trunks was also much more competitive now.  And when the two of them 
sparred, he was...  violent.  He did more than just try to win now.  And 
sometimes it seemed to Goten that Trunks looked down on him because Trunks 
had become so much more powerful that he had to hold back when fighting him. 
 It used to be that they'd go all out against each other, just good clean 
brawling.  If one defeated the other on Monday, it was entirely probable 
that the other would win on Tuesday.  Trunks won all the time now.  

	Trunks also made Goten feel dumb, even if by accident.  Goten wasn't 
sure if it was just that harder sense of humor or if it was something 
fundamental that changed about Trunks, but he couldn't stand being around 
his former friend anymore.  

	And now, perhaps unconsciously, Trunks was winning yet another battle. 
 

	Goten sighed deeply.  He was so preoccupied that he didn't notice a 
car zooming down the street when he was crossing.  Of course he didn't get 
hurt.  But the car was a mess, and he fled before the awestruck onlookers 
could berate him for not checking the traffic lights before crossing.  

	He didn't need to be told that he was being dumb just then.  He needed 
to do something.  He wasn't good at self-contemplation and deep thought.  He 
was an action sort of person.  

	He'd actually tried talking about it with Trunks, but Trunks seemed 
very uncomfortable with what had happened that summer when he was training, 
and always changed the subject.  

	"I need to beat some sense into Trunks.  That's it.  That would fix 
things."  

	He frowned.  Trunks was a lot stronger and faster now.  Trunks could 
get to Super Saiyajin 3 and Goten could barely hold 2.  He wondered if the 
two of them could even do the fusion now - their chis had become radically 
different.  

	So he had to get stronger.  The same problem he'd been trying to solve 
when he'd tried training under Vegita.  

	He had to fix things rather quickly, because Trunks was becoming more 
and more unbearable every day, and soon, he'd make Goten so mad that he 
wouldn't care that he was weaker, he'd just fight to the point where Trunks 
would have to cripple him to stop him.  He doubted either of them would 
enjoy that.  



	"What do you mean you're not coming back!"  A tall, distinguished 
looking woman with a stern face and warm, brown eyes, more or less shrieked 
into Arien's face.  

	"What about translating the Scroll?  What about all the time we spent 
on the damned thing?  What about helping me prove my theories?  What about 
our DEAL?"  

	Arien sighed.  He'd expected this, so he thought that would take the 
sting out of her shouting at him, but it didn't really work.  

	For the dozenth time, he swept the room with his chi-senses, careful 
to watch out for the telltale electromagnetic signatures that would mean the 
offices at his work-place were bugged.  For the dozenth time, it was clear. 
 And that worried him.  It meant that the people chasing him knew enough 
about him to know that bugs wouldn't work.  The more they knew about him, 
the more dangerous they were, and right now it looked like they knew too 
much.

	"Look, let me try to explain again," he had his hands up in what he 
hoped was a placating gesture.

	"There are some very, very bad men coming after me.  I need to 
disappear for a while, maybe forever.  It may have something to do with the 
Scroll.  You're in danger just talking to me."  

	There.  He'd summed up the truth and given it in the best way he 
thought possible.  

	"Bullshit!  I was reading that Scroll right alongside you, and sure 
there's a lot of weird stuff in there about spiritual philosophy and junk, 
but there isn't anything that should get you into trouble!"  

	She drew in a long breath as she closed her eyes and pushed back her 
bangs.  Arien knew that gesture.  It was the Okay-fine-asshole-see-if-I-care 
gesture.  She normally reserved it for the close-minded academics she had to 
deal with in her department.  

	"Look, I'll believe you if you say there are dangerous men after you. 
 I may even believe that it has something to do with the Scroll.  But why 
don't you call the police?"  

	Her eyes were open again, and she leveled her steady, penetrating gaze 
upon him.  It was the gaze that bored through ancient secrets and cultures, 
and Arien was afraid that it might let her see too much for her own good.

	"My God, you're telling me some of the truth.  You aren't lying to me, 
but you are trying to deceive me.  There is something dangerous in that 
scroll, but that's not why you're running."

	He shook his head.  "I don't want you to get hurt.  The people after 
me probably don't know about the Scroll, but they might.  And that's why I 
have to take it with me.  And I can't talk to the police, because they've 
almost certainly taken the possibility that I'll talk to the police into 
consideration.  It would be like walking into a death trap."  He did his 
best not to look at her eyes.

	"You're not just some Physics professor with a fetish for ancient 
cultures, huh?  You've been lying to me for two years now and you've been 
lying to the university and to your students.  What have you gotten yourself 
into?  I like you dammit.  You're one of the few scientists I've met who 
aren't limited to one area of specialty and look down on everyone else who 
can't understand their technical junk.  Okay.  Fine.  Try to keep yourself 
alive, Mr. Spy Man or whatever your real name is."  

	She was dismissing him in disgust.  It was the best he could have 
hoped for.  She could have gotten violent.  She could have tried using the 
ancient sword she had up on her wall.  That would really have been 
unpleasant.

	He sighed again.  "I'm sorry, Andrea.  Look,"  he took a thin notebook 
out of his pocket and offered to her.  "This is a notebook detailing one of 
my travels before I became the college professor you know.  There are notes 
about the site where I found the Scroll, and directions and everything.  It 
even says why I went there in the first place.  It's on a remote mountain in 
Tibet.  I'm sure you can find something there supporting your theories."

	She took the notebook silently and stormed out of her office.  
	"I'm sorry, Andrea...  Goodbye...  My name really is Arien..."

	He went to his office.  After checking that nobody was watching, he 
removed a small section of wall, which revealed a hollow area where he kept 
the Scroll.  He'd used a chi-technique, a weakened version of the one that 
he'd first used in that tournament from so long ago, to cut out and hollow 
that part of the wall.  The cuts were so fine that when he put the section 
back into the wall, it was impossible to tell that it was there.  

	"Time to go," he muttered to himself.  He looked out the window as he 
sensed someone very powerful fly away from the campus and back in a burst of 
incredible speed.  It was one of the Saiyajin.  He could recognize their 
chi-signatures now that he'd finally met one.  He decided against his 
curiosity, wanting only to get to the relative safety of his secret training 
ground.  

	He walked outside the faculty building and took one last look.  A 
huge, black, monolithic cube, with the window surfaces altered to blend in 
with the stone.  He remembered that the architect had wanted to "go back to 
an earlier, simpler style that suitably contrasted with the intricate neo-
gothic structures that surrounded the main administration edifice."  To his 
mind, it still just looked like a solid hunk of rock that did not at all fit 
in with the graceful, tapering spires and towers of the other buildings.  

	He sighed.  It had been a comfortable few years.  It had been relaxing 
compared to his wandering days.  He'd almost been able to find a few real 
friends for once.  Most people still thought he was a bizarre, bookish 
Physics teacher with a weird thing for ancient history, but a few of them 
had managed to get close, almost worming their ways through his defenses.  
Especially Andrea...  For a while, he'd wondered what it would be like to 
have a real home, and to maybe, have someone to share it with.  Someone 
smart, pretty, kind...  his eyes nearly glazed over before he slapped 
himself.  

	"Huh.  I haven't day-dreamed like that since I was eight."  

	In truth, he admitted to himself, he would miss those long nights with 
Andrea.  All they did was stare at strange symbols and attempt to attach 
meaning to them, but he'd gotten to know her quite well during that time... 
 And she even fulfilled the "smart-pretty-kind" criterion.  Though she was 
anything but quiet.  And she was actually kind of violent when she got 
angry.

	He turned about and began to walk towards the bus stop when he felt 
them.  

	Three...  five fighters all around him.  Very strong chi, human, 
almost as strong as his.  And very strange electromagnetic signals...  No... 
 The only people who'd had access to that technology had been silenced, he'd 
personally made sure of that after the last ones had been destroyed by the 
Saiyajin...  

	Jinzouningen.

	He walked at a leisurely pace, concealing his discomfort as he felt 
the eyes on his back.  

	A few intact fragments must have been found...  He hoped that was all, 
because if these were as advanced as the first ones were...  he may as well 
already be dead.  He was good, but not nearly strong enough for that.  Not 
five.  

	He froze.  They were preparing to attack.  Here, in the middle of a 
highly populated campus right on the edge of one of the largest cities in 
the world...  His left hand tightened around the handle of the Scroll's 
case.  

	Then he felt another fighter approaching...  and was immensely 
relieved when the signals began moving farther away.  They must have sensed 
the presence as well.  That indicated several things, the most comforting 
one being that they weren't as advanced as the artificial humans of Dr. 
Gero.  If they had been, they would have followed through with the attack 
regardless of the Saiyajin approaching him.

	"Say, aren't you that guy Bulma and Trunks picked up the other day?"  
 

	"Yes..."  Arien turned and examined the student in front of him.  A 
solid, compact build on a very powerful frame...  Slightly taller and 
bulkier than Trunks...  And of course, underneath it all, the blazing 
furnace of power, enough to destroy a planet.  

	"Hi," he smiled as he held out a friendly looking hand that could 
probably crush diamond into a fine powder, "My name is Son Goten.  I'm a 
friend of Trunk's."

	I know, Arien almost said.  "I am...  was Prof. Arien of the Physics 
department.  Thank Trunks for me.  And thank you, Son Goten." He gingerly 
shook the other's hand, applying a firm, human-only pressure.  He was glad 
to notice that Goten had excellent control of his strength, only exerting a 
marginally painful grip.  
	Goten looked puzzled.  "Thank me...  for what?" 

	Arien shook his head, smiling.  "Never-mind.  I'll tell you about it 
some other time.  Say, one of these days, how would you like to spar with 
me?"

	"Spar?"  Goten looked even more puzzled as he examined the tall, thin 
man in front of him.  He must have been concealing his chi, Goten decided.  
It had that odd feel of being strong but too weak at the same time.  
"Aaah...  Sure."  The last time Goten had tried sparring with a human, he'd 
accidentally broken Klilyn's leg by blocking a little too forcefully.  That 
was when he was eight.  He'd been very careful to avoid sparring invitations 
from most people after that.  Something about this one seemed different 
though.  

	"Heh, don't underestimate the weak.  We have the most incentive to 
learn how to fight.  I'll be seeing you, Saiyajin.  Maybe I'll even train 
you one of these days."  Arien chuckled.  

	"Huh?  Wait!"  The stranger was about to walk into a bus...

	And he just disappeared.  Goten strained his senses, stretched out 
with his chi, and found nothing.  He was impressed.  Not many people could 
manage a trick like that.  

	
	"Trunks..." Ami shyly turned to him, avoiding his eyes.  

	Trunks' heart was beating hard in his chest, and he felt short of 
breath.  

	"Yes?"

	"Do you think Goten likes me?"

	He was glad that she wasn't looking directly at him.  His face 
convulsed for a moment in shock before he recovered, plastering on his best 
neutral look.  He would have been surprised if he'd seen a mirror then.  He 
had the exact same scowl as his father.  

	"I...  wouldn't know, Ami."  He answered softly.  

	She sighed deeply, staring at the pages of her Physics textbook.  "He 
doesn't really seem to, I guess, but I had this silly feeling.  Don't pay 
attention to me, Trunks.  I guess I must seem pretty foolish, liking someone 
who doesn't care.  I shouldn't let it bother me, but..."  

	Oh, I think I know exactly how you feel, he mouthed silently.

	"Well...  What do you think about that Gaussian surface problem?"   

	"Aaah,"  Trunks shook his head, trying to clear it.  "Well, you start 
here..."

	Always competing, aren't we, Goten?  It must be our destiny.  He 
snarled inside.  Well, I'm the strongest one now, and you're not winning 
this one.  


	"HAAAAAAAA!"  

	She was the sword, the purity of its edge, the essence of its spirit. 
 

	Thud!  Thud!  Thud!  Thud!  The posts she'd set into place about her 
practice area vibrated as she struck them hard and fast.  
	"That"  Thud!  "inconsiderate"  Thud!  "JERK!"  

	That last blow snapped the thick, padded oak post in front of her in 
half.  

	"George!" she barked fiercely.  

	"Yes, Ma'am!"  

	The janitor of the university's kendo club sighed.  She was one of the 
best, but she used the equipment so be-damned hard...  She also wore down 
his nerves as quickly as she battered down practice posts and smashed up 
other people's swords in practice.  He figured that her temper helped a lot. 
 Since she'd started practicing here, he'd had to requisition and stock up 
on all kinds of wood and wood-substitutes...  She tore up stuff as quickly 
as eight full time kendo masters at the same time, shattering swords and 
what-not.  

	The first time she came in to practice, the mostly male population of 
the kendo club, all hormone-charged weight-lifting bags of machismo, jeered 
and made oblique references to "weakling women fighters," or something of 
that sort.  This was to their long-lasting regret, as they soon discovered 
that she was their new coach, and the first thing she made them do was 
practice against her.  All at the same time.  The results hadn't been 
pretty.  At the end of a few minutes, they were all mostly broken hunks of 
flesh, the remains of their ego's slowly draining out of their thoroughly 
whupped asses.  

	After that, she'd whipped their university's kendo club into a 
fantastic level of proficiency, pushing the members into joining and winning 
numerous tournaments.

	She continued practicing.

	It was her favorite method of stress relief.  It was especially 
relaxing when she imagined that the practice posts or dummies that she 
inflicted her techniques on were her colleagues in the Archaeology 
department.  It usually brought a smile to her normally stern, severe face. 
 Not today.

	Today she had one specific face in mind.  

	Today, all her students tiptoed around her.  They could tell when she 
was mad.  None of them particularly wanted to get beat up. 
	It surprised her when one of the more proficient ones had the courage 
to approach her.  

	"Coach?  What's wrong?  We can tell you're upset, and the team wants 
to know why.  Hey, the team could dress up as some other university's team 
and beat up some of those colleagues of yours for you...  Is it that geek 
Physics guy?" 

	"Hah?  What was that?"

	"You're the Queen of Swords, Ma'am.  Our Queen of Swords.  We don't 
like it when someone messes with our Queen."

	She smiled.
	
	At first, they'd all hated her, with extreme passion.  Then, when they 
realized how often they won after her arrival, they'd started calling her, 
"The Steel Dragon-Lady," and made that their battle cry.  After a few tries, 
they decided that they didn't like that, so they made her, "The Queen of 
Swords."  Then they all decided that she must have been doing something 
right, so after one drunken celebratory kendo club party (she never attended 
them), they all decided that she was possessed by the patron saint of all 
sword fighters, and that she was THEIR babe.  

	No one messes with the kendo club's babe.  

	She'd heard about it of course, but she didn't mind.  They were good 
kids, and if they fought better because of it, why not?  She hadn't realized 
how attached some of them had gotten to her though.

	"Thanks for the offer, but the jerk in question is not available."  
She shook her head.  "Is it that obvious how upset I am?"  

	"Ma'am, the practice swords and posts have been going so fast today 
that if George didn't keep a close eye on you, the splinters would fill up 
the dojo ankle-deep.  If I may say so, that's a record, even for you."  

	"Sorry."  Abruptly, most of her anger left her, and she felt tired, 
deflated, and let-down.  

	"Look, Nik, could you take over practice for today?  I'm tired.  I 
think I'll go and try to relax at home."

	"No problem, Ma'am.  Are you sure you don't want us to..."  

	She shook her head.  "It's a sweet offer, really it is.  But this is a 
personal problem.  I'll see you tomorrow, OK?"  

	On her way out, she bumped into a man, about thirty years old.  He was 
dressed in a normal-looking practice gi, without a belt indicating rank in 
any particular fighting system.  He had a powerful build, which seemed 
totally incongruous with his quick, graceful movements.  The eyes.  
Obviously intelligent.  Sort of playful.  But very serious, and hard inside. 
 

	"Excuse me, Miss.  I'm new here.  This is the martial arts dojo, 
right?"  Kind of a high voice.  Distinguished enough, she supposed.  Where 
had she seen that build before...

	"Yes.  The Kendo club is practicing here for another hour though.  
What club do you belong to?"

	"Ah, well," he smiled inanely, "I don't belong to one yet, and I'm out 
of practice, but I heard that the university had a dojo, and I couldn't 
resist the possibility of practicing a little on the side."

	"You're a teacher here?"  Is that why he seemed familiar?  But she 
couldn't recall him teaching any classes...

	"I'm new.  I started last week.  I teach Old English Literature.  Son 
Gohan," he offered a hand.

	"Andrea.  Andrea Sterling."  She shook his hand.  Absently noted the 
thick, heavy calluses from a lot of combat.  She thought her hands, and 
Arien's were tough, but this guy's were like solid rock.

	"Haaaa!  You're the coach of the kendo club!  Your students are pretty 
good!"  He took an admiring glance at their various forms and styles as they 
practiced.  

	"Say, would they mind practicing against an unorthodox opponent?"  

	She blinked at that.  "Say what?"

	"Would they mind practicing against a hand-to-hand combatant?  I want 
to see how out of practice I am."

	She looked at him with a doubtful expression.  Even a strong fighter 
could get his limbs broken by a well-aimed practice sword.  "My students 
practice with heavier than standard swords...  You could get really hurt..." 
 

	He smiled mysteriously.  "I rather doubt that.  Would you mind, 
terribly?"

	She shrugged.  "Nik!  I have someone for you to practice against here. 
 Time for a little unorthodox training.  Today, you fight an unarmed 
opponent."  

	The club members mostly laughed.  Despite all the disdain hand-to-hand 
fighters had for weapon-users, in the end, the hand-to-hand people were the 
ones with all the bruises.  

	Gohan leaped, somersaulting high through the air, landing delicately 
in the middle of the room.  "Everybody come at me at once!  I promise I 
won't hurt you too much!  I just want to see how badly out of practice I 
am!"  

	They were annoyed.  Was he insulting their skill?  They looked to the 
coach.  She saw their questioning gaze, and shrugged.  He had asked for 
it...  She nodded.  

	When the dust, and the splinters more or less cleared, he spoke, "Ah! 
 Sorry, Ma'am!  I didn't mean to hit so hard!"  

	She blinked.  She did so again.  She didn't quite see all that had 
happened, but every single one of her fighters was down, groaning in agony 
(the ones who were conscious, anyway).  It looked like a bad re-run of the 
first time she'd fought all of them.  Except this stranger, who claimed he 
was out of practice, without any weapons, just decimated them in under, she 
dizzily looked at her watch.  Five seconds.  She prided herself on being 
able to follow the quickest moves (it was a necessary skill in kendo) but 
she hadn't seen anything.  Just her champion club hitting the tatami like so 
many strewn leaves.   

	"What...  the Hell...  was that?"

	"Aaah, please don't criticize my form like that!  I said I was out of 
practice!"  He looked somewhat embarrassed as he scratched the back of his 
head.  

	This just wasn't Andrea's day.  First Arien does his disappearing act 
with the Scroll, then this complete stranger defeats her entire team with 
utter, relaxed ease.  He wasn't even breathing hard.  As a matter of fact, 
she noticed, he wasn't even sweating.  

	There just wasn't any justice in the world.  


	That night, finally in the relative safety of his secret home, Arien 
dreamed.  He dreamed that he was in empty space, surrounded by stars, moving 
through the universe, at one with the universe.

	"Why do you need to become stronger?"  Her voice was soft, kind, and 
gentle.  The cruelest probe anyone had ever used on his soul.  

	"Because someone has to.  There always has to be someone..."

	"Can't you let the Saiyajin handle that?"  

	Arien snorted.  "How much longer do you think the Saiyajin blood-line 
will last with only two pure-bred ones left with a handful of half-breeds?  
Who will be left then?  And I want no machine monsters like the Jinzouningen 
playing humanity's protectors..."

	"And you would be humanity's protector?"

	"If it were necessary.  If I were the only one left."   

	"What if you could never become stronger?  You are, after all, only 
human."  The voice seemed puzzled.  

	All Arien could see was the immense void around him, and the stars.  

	"There is always some way.  The human spirit is infinite, and from it 
will spring all the power I need."  He shook his head.  "Why do you ask?"

	"Aaah.  That's the Scroll talking.  The Scroll's wisdom you're 
spitting back at me.  I ask because I want to know, what kind of monster 
you'd be creating in yourself, if you should succeed."

	He bristled, angry.  "Power doesn't make monsters!  Lack of 
responsibility, ignoring duties, greed… those things make monsters.  I want 
the power to stop all the monsters yet to come."  

	"And how many, do you think, used that justification to gain their 
power?"  She sounded... disappointed.  

	"Not all of them become monsters!  The last of the Saiyajin aren't 
monsters, for all the power they contain!"  He hated admitting it sometimes, 
but it was certainly true.  "They become stronger to protect, always to 
protect.  And if one of them go bad, others keep them in line.  I want to be 
there when they are finally gone, certain that even when they are, that 
there will always be someone remaining to protect humanity."

	"And must that one left be you?"  

	The void around Arien shifted as he seemed to be moving faster through 
the cold, vast emptiness.  

	"Hardly!  Only the fitting!  Yet even if I never become one of them, I 
would never know if I don't try!  I must at least try!"  

	"Aaah.  And are you sure this is the only motive?  It's easy to lie to 
others if you can lie to yourself..."  

	"You want me to admit my anger at how I was too weak to protect my 
brother?  Yes, I have anger driving me too, but vengeance is not the cause I 
pursue, I pursue only the strength to protect those weaker."  He was tired. 
 So very tired of all the arguments in his head.  All the ones he tormented 
himself with.  

	Suddenly he was on a beach, and a brilliant moon above him was 
reflected in the still water.  

	"So noble an aim."  The voice was behind him.  He could feel her.  She 
was finally there.  He was afraid to look.  The voice had never shown 
herself before...  He was afraid.  

	"Why don't you look at me?  You've wanted to know who I am since you 
first heard me...  Now is your chance."  A light silken touch seared his 
shoulders.  He felt himself burning under that touch.  

	He swallowed hard.  "I...  can't look." 

	Her hands were on his shoulders, slowly turning him around.  He 
squeezed his eyes shut.

	"Why can't you look?" 

	Her touch was cool but he burned beneath it.  His breath grew ragged. 
 "Please," he whispered.  

	He felt a soft, brief contact at his lips just before she pulled away. 
 

	"I'd forgotten how much fun it was to tease you this way, Arien...  
Alright, you don't have to look.  A pity.  It will be the last time for a 
long, long while.  You'll be glad to know that you will reach that power..."

	"You're leaving?" 

	He panicked.  "Wait!"  He was shouting, he realized.  His fevered 
senses slowly returned to him.  He was in the caves...  He was safe.  And he 
was alone.  Typical.  

	He touched his lips, his shoulders.  He still felt the warmth there.  

	"Who are you?"  Arien leaned back to sink into his bed.

	He grunted as he fell the fifteen feet back into it.  

	It was one of the few reasons he disliked being able to fly with just 
his willpower.  Sometimes, if a dream was intense enough, you could wake up 
thirty feet in the air, or if you were powerful enough, thirty hundred feet. 
 Sometimes an unpleasant surprise.  

	He sighed, trying desperately to get to sleep.  But the voice, the 
touch, he couldn't get them out of his mind.  

	He gave up, turning on the light beside his bed and examining his 
notes about the Scroll, continuing the slow task of translating.  It was 
going to be even slower now, alone.  

---  end episode 3