1:36 Child of the Blight.

The guard wasn't kidding.

He marched me into the largest tent, sitting at the crest of the hillside on the other bank of the stream, with his blade at my neck as though he were holding me hostage.  Silveredge, who sat calmly at Mikhail's clawed feet, looked up without a single trace of concern.  Her hair had been braided up, as many of the other Dragonborn women's hair was, but didn't have the adornments that they did.  She'd probably get the full compliment, however, if she went through with the ridiculous wedding to the idiot behind her.  Mikhail seemed sleepy and distant, his green eyes half-closed and unfocused as he trailed his fingers through a Human female's hair.  The female was busily working with a small pot of brilliant red pigment and a brush, creating wide, swirling patterns that branched upward from Mikhail's feet.

And Aleksei, still chained and held by three guards, stood behind where Mikhail sat.  The scale on his left side, including his scarred eye, had been painted absolutely black.  The functional eye locked onto me at once with a look of barely-restrained anger, then a strange regret.

"The creature claims that Ivan gave that stone to her to give to your intended," the guard began strongly.  "I didn't know what she was capable of, so that is why I come into your presence with my sword drawn."

Mikhail, drawn back from whatever reverie he'd been enraptured in, turned his gaze to his guard, to me, then down to Silveredge.  "Go forward.  Perhaps Ivan has sent this tool with her so that you may aid her in her conversion."

"There is no doubt," Silveredge responded, getting up at once to take the stone.  When she touched it, the darkness receded into a tight ball at the center of the stone, and when she held it with both hands, it disappeared entirely.  The reflection of her eyes in the stone was absolutely captivating.

"It's a scrying stone," the guard repeated, as though Silveredge wouldn't know anything about the implement she held in her hands as though it were alive.  "Ivan isn't any good at divination, but he keeps it around.  He can tell if a female is with child, at least."

"Ivan would like to convince me that his words are true," I said carefully.  "He said you would be able to help me with this.  I don't know what he expects you to do with it."

Silveredge, without responding, knelt down before me and put the stone in her lap, staring straight down into it as though she would be sucked straight into it at any moment.  The guard, not knowing what else to do, forced me to back up a few steps with the blade still kissing-close to my neck.

"I need Ivan here," Silveredge finally said quietly.  "I need him to help me."

Mikhail flicked the fingers of his other hand, and someone left the tent to go grab Ivan.  I looked up from Silveredge to Aleksei, who seemed to have returned to his own senses.  He shifted uneasily in his chains, prompting his guards to stare at me furiously.

"I haven't done anything," I sighed, rolling my eyes upward.  "He moves when I'm not present as well, I presume?"

"Refrain from taunting each other, won't you, children?" Mikhail grunted, turning his head slightly and looking back toward the guards.  "Ivan will come presently."

As it turned out, Ivan took some time to arrive.  When he did come, his eyes were closed, and he had to depend entirely on the Dragonborn female that accompanied him.  She led him around me and to the right of Mikhail, then helped him to sit next to Silveredge, who scooted close enough to him to touch shoulders with him.  Ivan put himself into a meditative pose, similar to Silveredge's sitting posture, then bowed his head.  After a few moments, his entire body slackened, as though he had fallen asleep.

Silveredge looked up at me, and I heard-

Enter.

-as though she had been speaking aloud.   Except she wasn't.  She closed her eyes, so I did too, and when I did, I saw the camp.  It was completely empty, I somehow knew, except for Silveredge, who sat on one side of a very large fire at the center of the camp.   I somehow sat at the other side of this large fire, looking at her carefully.

What's going on? I asked.  I couldn't hear the sound of my own voice, and the realization that I was somehow telepathically communicating just about terrified me.

We are with Seyashen.  Here, you have all of his memories, everything his knows.  Ask what you will of him, Silveredge replied.


I want to see his mother, I replied, not knowing what to expect.  But in moments, before me stood a slightly shorter, curvier version of my own mother.  Her eyes and hair were different in color, but the straight nose, the crooked come-hither smirk and the shape of her lips were precisely the same.  Whereas my own mother had more of a effortlessly simple dancer's way about her, this woman seemed more ready to start a brawl.  She wore a peasant's blouse with men's trousers, patched and pocketed.  While I assumed that most of those pockets held alchemy ingredients or focus stones, there was no mistaking the obvious dirk on her left hip.

This is Imei'ishi as she looked the last time he saw her, approximately twenty five years ago.  He admits that she must look older now, perhaps with some grey in her hair, a few wrinkles, and some weight put on, Silveredge commented. 

And did Imei'ishi tell him what Seya'ani was like? I asked quietly.  The image of Imei'ishi disappeared, and I heard-

"She was taller than I am- she was always taller than all of us growing up.  She had the perfect looks- just the right smile, just the right thickness, and carried herself like a queen everywhere she went.  Everyone could always tell she was first born.  And she was incredible with natural magic, had arcane energy sparking at her fingertips practically before she could speak.  But her temper was bad.  Once you got on her nerves, there was nothing you could do to appease her.  What's worse, her attitude got into everything she did, just everything.  Spells would backfire or suddenly become twice as powerful, stews would spoil or suddenly burst into flame, easily-caught animals would scurry away at the softest of her footsteps.  That's why you must be very, very careful-"
And abruptly, the memory ceased.

Did she name him after my mother? I asked, now pretty much completely sure of the answer.

Yes, Silveredge replied after a long delay.

And he wasn't careful, was he?  I sighed, again sure of the answer.  You did this to yourself.  You blinded yourself and walked right into the arms of the Dragonborn.  Practically sat down and let them take you apart.  Why?

You've asked two questions, Silveredge replied with a slightly altered tone.  Which one did you want an answer to?


What did he do to make himself think that he deserves the situation he's in right now, that's what I want an answer to, I spat bitterly.  There was a terrible pause.  And then there came the same vision as I'd seen when Mikhail had looked at me, in much greater detail.  I could see the blackened stones in the watch towers crumbling under the near-dead soldiers- and as soon as they hit the ground, they arose again, forming an army of shambling, charred undead.  Those who hadn't died yet screamed in the combined horror of seeing their territory so utterly destroyed and the comrades that they'd just been fighting with now rising again to plant swords through their heads and spines.  And at the center of the howls of pain and fear, the reanimation, the burning and the crumbling was one little golden eyed Tiefling boy, probably not much older than eight or nine years, screaming in a hideous rage.  As I looked around in his memory, wondering why he'd seen fit to let Mikhail see it, I realized something.

The soldiers weren't Dragonborn.  They were Humans and Tieflings.

You turned around and attacked your own empire?  I asked.

Yes, Silveredge replied.

Why?  I demanded.

And in response, I saw the same walls, intact and perfectly whole, with a jeering crowd beneath them, watching a spike-horned male Tiefling being marched to a hanging.  He'd clearly been beaten mercilessly, and his blood soaked through his clothes.  His hair was cut short and almost matted with blood, yet he held his head high as he was placed on the stool that would shortly be kicked out from under him.

"Let him swing!"
"He doesn't deserve to speak!"
"Traitor!  Thief!"
But in spite of their words, the condemned was allowed to speak.

"The disease that once infected our ancient leaders has now trickled down to the babes in our arms.  All that I have done, I have done in the name of Bael Turath- a name that should have been forgotten, along with the names of hundreds of other kingdoms and empires of its day, some thousand years ago."

It will never be forgotten, I breathed, not feeling in any way patriotic.  I felt winded.  As though someone had recently punched me in the chest.  Please, I don't want to see your father hang.

And Silveredge replied, Neither did he.

You can undo your blindness, can't you?

And after another long pause, Silveredge admitted, That's in the school of conjuration. 

You're an excellent conjurer, I snorted.  You have both necromancy and conjuration talent in spades, that's what your mother was so worried about.  But you don't want to see.  You remove the blindness, and then you put it right back, like a blindfold, so that you don't go on a rampage again.  Right?

Yes, Silveredge replied after another long silence.  He observes that you are quite like his father in your pursuit of the whole truth of things.

I guess Imei'ishi was less than pleased with your response, I sighed quietly.  She didn't kick you out, did she?


No, Silveredge smiled.  Imei'ishi wanted to help him control himself in another way, but his ability grew faster than she could develop her enchantment skills.  Since the family had been classified as enemies of the empire, she could not send him outside the home for proper conjuration training, and no one anywhere trusts necromancers.  And his rage mounted higher and higher until outsiders began catching on fire when he looked at them.  He left a note and ran away, leaving destruction in his wake, until he was captured.

By Baator, the nutcase has done one positive thing, then.  In fact, an incredibly positive thing.  You seem quite well in hand now- why don't you leave?  I asked hopefully.

He is not sure, Silveredge said, sounding a little uncertain of that answer herself.

You've got to be tired by now- how do we-

And I found that Silveredge was holding me in her arms with a rather concerned look on her face.  I sat up with a start.

"Where is Ivan?" I charged.  "And his stone?  What happened?"

"Ivan and his stone are back in his tent, where they have been for a while now," Silveredge explained quietly.  "Thank Bahamut you have awakened.  You neither ate, nor drank, nor moved in three whole days- the witch of the dawn has just thought to scratch at this fourth morning."

"Praise be to Bahamut," a few voices said from various places in the tent.

Silveredge gave me a tiny pinch, and I stammered out, "Yes, um, praise to Bahamut."

"And so it seems that Ivan has worked a miracle," I heard Mikhail say from somewhere beyond me.  "The creature now gives praise to Bahamut, as should we all.  I knew this would come to pass.  Soon the Bloodtalon shall be restored to his proper place with us, and the Rites of Rebirth and Unification shall proceed!"

1:35 The darkness in the stone.

It took close to an hour for Ivan to appear next to me on his bedding.

"Where did you go?"  I immediately asked, unable to help myself.  There were other questions in my mind, but truthfully, that one was the uppermost.

"At times, I find my existence becomes more of an opinion than a fact in the mind of the holy Bahamut.  It seems it is his pleasure to remind me of my place in the hells every now and again," Ivan replied, his eyes closed.  He still seemed to radiate some sort of phantom calm and ease, but the way he spoke suggested some tiredness.  I figured that continuing to pretend to be an acolyte of Bahamut wouldn't be the best way to allow him to get any break.

"May I ask you about Seya'ani?  About how you know her?" I dared quietly, sneaking a peek at the other side of the room to check the Dragonborn female's interest in our conversation.  It seemed she had begun writing, or studying some book while lounging.

"You may, of course!" Ivan replied, reaching his right hand straight forward.  "You'll forgive my lack of gaze, will you?"

"I'm right here," I replied, putting my hand in his own.  "I don't mind."

"Seya'ani and Imei'ishi were gifted sisters- one a warlock, the other a wizard.  Seya'ani married well, to a spy talented enough to catch the emperor's eye.  Imei'ishi disappeared with a bow-toting rogue, delighting her free spirit and crushing her family's hopes for her.   The spy became the court jester- word of his whirlwind successes spread like a disease in the marketplaces throughout the Turathi empire.  The rogue's name was never spoken- and he preferred it that way.  It gave greater believability to his omnipresence.  But today, I'll have to beg forgiveness of his spirit.  Did you ever hear, in those beautiful courtyards where you played so carelessly, of The Blight?"

"The Blight was just one male?" was my wide-eyed response.  The Blight was a curse that miraculously lit upon Dragonborn outposts and Tiefling camps alike.  It was thought that some god was directing some terrible group of terrorists from both races.  Dragonborn postings would be circled by a ring of fire.  Tiefling clutches would be found with a trench of water dug around them.  It was clear that there were archers involved, as there would always be arrow-wounds to the back of the neck, to the chest, or to the shoulder.  The kills were so many, so precise and so perfectly executed, that a single perpetrator seemed out of the question.  Sometimes there would be two or three strikes in a single day.

"Yes, he was," Ivan smiled, eyes still closed.  "A male by the name of Vashen.  And with twelve children, he was quite a male indeed.  Imei'ishi was very good at teleportation, and he was very good at simple stealth.  I am the last born male of his seed- well, his known seed, anyway.  Himself and Imei'ishi were poly-amorous, and never had time to marry.  By the time they were of a mind to do so, the empire had been destroyed, and there were no temples left to complete the rites.  While Imei'ishi looks deceptively human, Vashen had thick, spike-like, unmistakable horns that curved up from his brow over his head and from there stuck straight back."

"How?  No one my parents' age had horns," I replied.  "All the children did."

"I cannot judge who the Hells touched and who they left alone," Ivan shrugged.  "Two or three of my siblings could also pass for human, and I hope for their sake that they have."

I thought briefly on the Tiefling that had been in the Elven den of misery before I arrived.  Dark Human- indeed.

"I know you have little reason to believe me, especially since you must wonder how I arrived here, while the rest of our family is either dead or flung to the four winds," Ivan continued.  "I do not work with the same magic that Imei'ishi worked.  She is uniquely powerful- divination comes as naturally to her as breathing.  Unfortunately, many of my- talents- disturbed her deeply.   She gave me just one gift before I left to find a place where I could live without fear of being burned to death.  Somewhere here is a lovely, heavy dark stone."

I looked around the area briefly, then squeezed his hand a bit as I got up to actually physically search.  The stone he was talking about, cold, black and smooth, was in a knapsack that was damp at the bottom.  Seeing as the bag was sitting directly on the ground and there was a serious heft to the stone, I couldn't say I was surprised.  As soon as I picked the stone up, some of the darkness retracted inward, leaving the rest to seem like a dark cloud suspended in remarkably clear crystal.

"You've stopped moving," Ivan observed.  "Even your tail is still.  You've found it?"

"Yes," I replied, creeping over carefully to put it into his hand.  "Here it is."

"No, no, it's not for me to use right now," he clucked, smiling.  "I need you to go and speak with Petrovich's other wife.  Hand it to her.  I will rest, for now, so that I may be ready when you need me.  Go on."

"C'mon, then scat," the Dragonborn female added, looking up and putting her book on her resting place.  "The guards outside will- escort you."

I briefly thought of bashing the fools outside with the stone, but shook that idea out of my head.  Ivan had trusted me with some magical implement that Silveredge could make use of in some way- it wouldn't do for me to crack it or break it completely over some idiot's skull in front of other guards who would simply chain me up and lop my horns off.  So I simply stepped outside calmly, the stone clutched in both hands.

Some time or other- who knows when?- the day had slipped into early evening.  I stepped out into the coolness, and was instantly apprehended by the guards that had been waiting for me.

"I need to bring this to the master's intended," I said calmly, trying to match Ivan's tone.  "He bid me give it into her hands."

One of the guards looked at it blankly, but the other had a better idea of what I was holding.   "It's a scrying ball.  He's just awful at divination, but why should he give it to you?"

"He didn't, fool," I sighed, frustrated.  "Didn't you hear?  I'm to give it to the Shadar-Kai.  I can do about as much with it as he can, and now it's finally going to someone who can do something with it, ugh, by Baator, you're thick."

"Right, you give it to me, and I'll give it to her when we pass by the master's tent, how's that?" the smart one snorted.  "We don't need you running in there casting any spells."

"Look at this, will you?" I replied, holding the stone up.  The darkness inside it swirled as though it were liquid.  "It's not supposed to look like this.  I can't cast a single bloody cantrip with it.  It's useless like this, or can't you tell?"

There was a silence.

"Well, can't you?" the second guard asked in a concerned voice.

"Alright, come on, then, but we're going in there with you, swords drawn," the guard replied.  "One of them's going to be right at your neck the entire time."

1:34 Gracious.

Ivan wasted no time in telling me the meaning of his name- "gracious is the god."

Two things struck me as strange- although he had just gotten done nodding and smiling to the creature who believed in this ridiculous Unified, he did not pluralize the god of his name.  And he did not at all mention whether he knew the meaning of my name or not.  I assumed he did, and I kept my mouth shut.

Ivan's tent was more generous than most of the others I had seen.  He lived practically on the banks of the stream we crossed to encounter the guards, which meant that he would be the first to be attacked should anyone come down with a martial mindset.  The bone stakes that held the animal hides in their positions were practically splinters that had to be reinforced with sticks bound together with crude leather bands.  I noticed with grit teeth that the most of the living area was dominated by the female that was supposed to be helping him.  His own bottles, pans and small plates of gods-knew-what were crammed as neatly as possible into the space on the northern side of the tent, closer to the river and thus victim to chilly, almost-damp ground.  Once we entered the tent, the female attended to her own side of the tent, leaving Ivan to bustle around the northern side by himself.  I moved with him, careful to follow the small path between the piles and neat clusters, wondering what spell or potion he was using to keep his side so much more organized than his supposed caretaker.

"You spoke of a change?" I began as he settled himself down on the pile of furs that was supposed to be his resting place.

"Yes, my change included the shearing of my horns and the considerable shortening of my tail.  It's not completely gone, but it may as well be," Ivan responded.  "The esteemed master continues to wait for my hooves to become feet."

"He'll be waiting an awfully long time," I snorted, taking a good look at a pinkish powdery substance that was in a dish next to me.

"Respect the master, you," called the female from the other side, "or I'll force you out."

"No harm, no harm," Ivan called back with a sigh not far from his voice.  "The servants of the Unified are easily offended, unfortunately."

"And you're not a servant of the Unified?" I asked quietly, shifting slightly so that I could keep an eye on the female across the room.  "You seem slow enough to take offense."

"Bahamut and Tiamat are as unified as are- let's see if I remember- Dispater and Baalzebul."  Ivan meaningfully turned his golden eyes toward me, and I wasn't sure how much of my shock he could perceive via whatever spell he was using.  "They are working in the same magnificent harmony, toward different ends."  He reached out for my hand with a smile, perhaps inviting me to sit next to him- I wasn't sure.  "Once I served Dispater, and I learned many things as I did so.  When I was brought to this place, I believed he would save me, and he did not.  But Bahamut did speak, as now he has to the one who shares Petrovich with you."

"And now?" I asked, placing my hand in his own tentatively.

In that moment, an image of Ivan appeared next to me, and laid his hand on my shoulder.  Somehow, we were transported to someplace very dark and very warm- uncomfortably warm, even for me.

"Listen quickly, for soon you will not see me," Ivan said calmly.  "Bahamut has spoken neither to me nor to the poor female caught next to Mikhail.  The moment I sensed her life energy, I knew that she needed help.  I sent word to Mikhail that you had poisoned her and that if I were allowed access, I could heal her as you would not."

"But I did no such thing- why would you say that?"  I demanded.

"Because it was the only thing he could have possibly believed that would have gotten me to her in time.  Mikhail's fanatical devotion to the Bloodtalons and Tiamat blind him to almost everything else around him.  And her condition is grave enough to require more time.  I hoped you would deny any accusations of poisoning or control, which would lend me credit."

"What gave you the bright idea to tell me this now?"

And in the darkness, Ivan's golden eyes glowed.

"For one thing, the Drow seems to have had a very strong concern for her and for Petrovich.  Usually those things are the least loyal of any traveling band of treasure hunters, which is what you all were mistaken for.  For another thing, Mikhail believes, apparently incorrectly, that Petrovich is his own bastard son.  The projection of his guilt on the poor creature is truly lamentable.  But when I say that you are my cousin, the daughter of my mother's sister Seya'ani, who choked to death, bloated like a toad because of a poisoned stew, I am of clear conscience, and make no mistake." 

And I found myself back in the tent, staring in complete surprise at an empty space.

"Oh, did he disappear again?" the female Dragonborn called without concern from the other side of the tent.  "Don't worry, I know that's not totally your fault.  He does that periodically, after expending himself a great deal, he says.  Between that weird blue skinned girl and you, I imagine he's practically at his limit.   Just sit there and wait for him to come back."

"About how long does it normally take?" I asked, looking around me carefully as I moved to sit on the fur palette.

"Maybe ten minutes, maybe a few hours.  Depends on what he was doing just before he- I don't know- left here.  Considering the fact that you were just talking, I'd say it won't be more than five to ten minutes.  Just sit there and wait.  I'm watching you, so don't spit in anything."

1:33 Let he without horns tell the best lies.

Aleksei stared at Silveredge, absolutely dumbfounded.

"I would very much like, my master, to speak further with the scion.  I believe that the dragon that spoke with me wishes me to speak with him about the marriage," Silveredge smiled.  "I will need his consent, as I was first married to him."

"And the mighty Bloodtalon must be aching with anger, now that his bride is being called to be the bride of Bahamut Himself," Mikael smiled grimly.  "But we cannot afford to leave you alone with him- in his state.  We must neutralize the demon daughter."

Silveredge paused for one moment, and I watched a brief weariness cloud her eyes. "You spoke to me of just one Tiefling who was indeed able to be saved.  Would it be possible for him to take counsel with her?  Perhaps when she has seen with her own eyes what she can become- what she can return to- perhaps she will be more willing to release this life.  Why should she march blindly into a conversion when she does not know if she will survive?"

Mikhail turned slightly and tenderly brushed Silveredge's cheek, as though he had fallen into the deepest of loves.  "Too long have I lavished without your good counsel- it is good for the representation of the Unified to at last be together."

"So you stand for who- Tiamat?  And the Shadow Child for Bahamut?"  Aleksei snorted.  "Better that I stand for Bahamut and my first for Tiamat- at least that would make some smattering of sense."

Mikhail smiled.  "Cute.  You forget your true self even moments after you admit it.  Here, let me help you."  And in one beautiful moment, there was an image- some glyph- projected onto the arm that Aleksei was still holding.  He dropped it instantly, stepping back slightly and turning away as though I'd struck him.

"Now, my son, did you feel the grip around your heart?  Did you feel yourself lurching toward the path you forgot- the path you try to deny?"  Mikhail demanded.  "You swore in blood, scion.  Tiamat is carved in your soul."

"I am not your son," Aleksei grunted, his back still turned.

And before anyone could do anything else, a Human girl, dressed in rags, burst into the hall.  "The Drow is free!  He summoned arrows out of nowhere!"

I was half dragged out to the common area where Bahlzair had been chained.  Sure enough, two Dragonborn females lay, unseeing eyes staring into the sky, with bloody acid holes through their white robes.

"He's gone," a Human guard breathed as he ran up to Mikhail.  "He took off north, I think.  Bhairoset's the closest town, little clutch of farmers sitting on top of an infertile rock, won't take too kindly too him.  Tasha should turn him back around, if we get word to her soon enough."

"Send word, then.  But send soldiers as well, in case you catch up to him," Mikhail pronounced, inspecting the cuffs that had met their match.

The guard bowed, then turned away, hollering toward a few other Human males, most of whom took up arms and began moving at a steady trot.  Two others, clothed lightly and barely armed, took off at full speed.

"How did he escape?" Mikhail finally asked, turning slightly over his shoulder to look at the Human female.  She shrunk under his gaze.

"I don't know," she admitted slowly.  "It was Zasha's idea to put him in the manacles and let him sit down, because he kept spitting and biting when he was hung between the trees.  One minute, he was allowing Zasha to finally check under his tongue to see the glands that she had thought were there.  She had to go get another depressor, since he closed his mouth on the first.  When she turned back around, he wasn't in the manacles anymore, but he was still sitting in peace.  Zasha tried speaking to him calmly, but Ima pulled a knife, and that's when the arrows appeared out of no where."

"Ah, Zasha.  I warned her about mercy," Mikhail sighed quietly, kneeling down to lift one of the female's heads.  He put his forehead against hers, and a hush came over the entire area.  After a few moments, Dragonborn and Humans started gathering in a circle around this area, which meant some of them had to come up from the lower-level living area.  I noted that those from that area were almost all Humans.

There was one Tiefling.

It was clear that there were once horns at this male's temples, as his dark, curly hair had been cut short.  He wore black robes, and easily stood out in this crowd, although he would have blended right in at a monastery somewhere.  As soon as he walked up the steps, which had been dug into the hillside, I practically had to look at him.  His eyes were a strange gold, and blazed from his face as though they had been two beacons.  He was attended by a Dragonborn female- at first I thought it was because he was still being held captive.  He moved with such grace and ease that it took me some time to realize that the female was guiding and sometimes leading him- he was blind.  Perhaps seeing that I was one of his kind, although under the circumstances, I would have thought that the fact would have turned her away from me instead of compelling her toward me, the assistant brought him to where I stood with the guards.

"Ah, kin," the Tiefling said, reaching out his hands.  "Are you here a long time?"

"No, getting on a day now," I replied simply, putting my hand in his.  It felt warm and sandy-dry- like touching a stick that had been in a recently extinguished fire.  He let go of his helper and reached out his other hand for my head, so I ducked slightly so that he would get to my horns.

"Good, good," he murmured, more to himself than to me.  He struck my horns first- lightly, and by accident- then ran his fingertips along them.

Beyond us, Mikhail was leading some sort of chant, which was getting louder by the moment.  Silveredge was silent at his side, her eyes closed, and Aleksei wasn't in my range of sight.

"You have lovely hair," the Tiefling commented with a smile.  "So very heavy, so very straight and thick.  Familiar.  Why did you cut it?"

"It got nasty and sweaty, and I hate it when it gets into my eyes," I replied, standing straight again.

"My name is Ivan, now.  It was Seyashen, when I could see."  He took his hands away from me, and I felt as though I'd taken my hands out of warm sheets.  "You must have many questions-"

By this time, the chant had turned into a roar, and those gathered began dispersing.

"My name is Mi'ishaen, and I don't plan on a name change any time soon."

And Ivan laughed.  It wasn't bitter or charged with the undercurrent of some other feeling.  It was a genuine, care-free laugh, as though I'd made a very good joke.

A few Humans gathered to pick up the bodies of the Dragonborn women, and Mikhail turned his gaze over to Ivan and I.  Silveredge opened her eyes, and I heard a small hum of concern arise from Ivan.

"Ivan is our enchanter and healer," Mikhail said gravely as Silveredge made her way over.  "He had also heard the dragon, but was unable to follow the call, as his patron demon is quite strong, and will not leave him alive should we attempt to continue the ritual."  Silveredge smiled and curtsied to Ivan briefly, and Ivan reached out his hand to her.

"It will do her good to be with you, I know it," Silveredge whispered as she laid her hand in his.  It seemed the ruddy, rugged hand would swallow the light blue one whole in it.

"It may do you good to return," Ivan replied kindly, as might a father.  "I would like to continue to study your encounter with the dragon.  Perhaps through this study I will be able to truly become one with this clan."

"You are already one of us, Ivan, as much as you can be," Mikhail assured, placing his scaled hand on top.  "We must prepare to perform the rites, as soon as all ties to previous marriages have been severed."

"I thought there was only one rite," I asked.  "One that would somehow magically change one's race."

"Oh yes, the Rite of Rebirth shall proceed," Mikhail crowed.  "And soon after, the Rite of Unification."

"Forgive him, he assumes that you will be overjoyed at this news, when you don't even know what he's talking about," Ivan smirked.  "They're going to be married."

"You've known her a day!" I shrieked, blown away.

"And in that day, the illustrious dragon, Lord Bahamut, saw fit to speak directly to her," Mikhail replied strongly.  "He appeared to her, called her to her destiny.  What better partner could the master of this clan have?"

"One that isn't already married, if you don't mind my saying," I spat, rolling my eyes in disgust.  "So far, all I've noted of this Unified you keep talking about is that it values wealth and destruction over common damned sense or courtesy.  Since when does a god require that outsiders be chained up and poked at?  And I won't buy that you were trying to help him.  You maim people- look at his head!  That, for a Tiefling, is maiming- his horns may never grow back.  And since when has any god, anywhere, deemed it appropriate to take some other male's wife?"

"It sounds as though you have seen an awful lot of Tiamat's influence," Ivan smiled.  "Your anger is justified.  Why don't you allow me to introduce you to Bahamut?  With the master's kind leave?"

"Oh, please, I know she will fare better in his hands," Silveredge pleaded, looking up to Mikhail with the simplicity of a child.  "And I will speak with Aleksei, and this will all be alright, without any further pain."

"I will allow it," Mikhail said at last, a frown etched deeply into his face.  "But I will have guards posted, to prevent any- unfortunate occurrences.  Be careful, Ivan.  Your own path was treacherous, remember."

"I will take great joy, master, in speaking calmly with my kin.  Her spirit is strong, and her wit will be sharper than her blades, with a bit more challenge.  This is the way of Bahamut, the way of reason, and of wisdom."  Ivan was looking just over Mikhail's right shoulder, and I could tell that whatever he had done to "see" me, he was not doing it to help him look directly at Mikael.  He took his hand away from Silveredge and Mikael and offered it to me.  "Please, come."

"I too belong to Aleksei, you know," I smirked.  "This charming manner won't get me away from him."

"Worry not," Ivan replied as he brought me closer to him.  "As I am sure you have noticed, though you have been careful not to misspeak, I cannot even behold your loveliness.  Both of esteemed Petrovich's wives will be most safe with and from me."