Darkening Path 1:A Eyes to the blinded.

The Halfling, whose mohawk had been combed and styled into three brilliant dyed red spikes this day, opened his freshly-bandaged arms widely, grinning like a child proud of a sand castle.

"Welcome, Ivan," he proclaimed.  "to the Axis of Afflux."

Seyashen, who knew very well what he meant by addressing him that way, did not correct him.  He merely stood quietly, golden eyes staring into the unending darkness of an old fear.

"You have given me many questions," the Halfling continued, "and it's time I traded you a few.  Don't worry about the answers, just yet.  Will you hear my questions?"

And Seyashen, who had begun to learn his game even before he really wanted to, now easily replied, "What is it you wish to ask?"

The Halfling scrunched his shoulders with glee, smiling at what he knew would be one of his greater challenges.  "I ask you two things- What is it we mean when we say we must find ourselves?  When did we lose this most important self, that we must now painstakingly seek it out?"

Seyashen chuckled to himself bitterly for a moment, having every idea of where the Halfling was going with these questions.  Having read many treatises on the meaning of existence, he felt well prepared for the Master Inquisitor.  "Were our selves ever known to begin with?  Who is born with a perfect sense of what they are to be?"

Although he knew the movement would be lost on his student for the moment, the Halfling nodded, his dark brown eyes flashing with genuine joy.  "Excellent- most wisely turned.  I give you now an answer- the discovery of one's self is not a brilliant flash of inspiration.  It is not an event, one single shock of knowledge, but instead a pathway, a journey, that we may either choose to take or to refuse.  Yet, if we refuse the journey to our selves, we wither and die, never tapping our true potential- living daily on the surface of life, like insects, resting ignorantly atop the surface of a deep and powerful river."

"But those insects," Seyashen countered with a weathered smirk, "do not question their purpose.  They are born with instincts.  These instincts do not lead them to delve to the river's depths, but instead to exist naturally, as their forefathers existed, until they bear offspring and die.  These gods-given instructions are in the fiber of their beings, and they do not deviate from them to satisfy foolish dreams or flights of fantasy."

"Ah, I give you now a question, traveler- would you say that there are instincts in each of us who were born of the Eladrin and of the Humans?  Instincts that would instruct us to live naturally, as we ought to live?  For if this is so, why were we given minds to conceive of principles, ideas and problems outside of these natural patterns?  Why, in addition to the gods-given instructions imprinted in our flesh, were we cursed with the ability to ponder what is beyond them?"

Seyashen snorted disgustedly and shrugged.  "What god does not enjoy spitting in the face of their creatures, who must of force exist beneath them?  What god, like an ignorant child, does not enjoy smashing and breaking his toys?"

The Halfling reached over and patted Seyashen on the back, shaking his head although he still had the remnants of a smirk on his face.  "Surprise, gracious Lord Torturer, I brought you a living oxymoron.  Such bitterness, traveler, belongs behind eyes that have seen at least a century pass.  While open."

"What I do, I do for the good of all," Seyashen stated coldly.  "It... is the best way.  I admit, it may not be the only one, but I do what I can."

"And are you so sure of your abilities?  Your capabilities?  Your boundaries?" the Halfling instantly goaded, stepping very close to Seyashen and circling him as though he might eat him.  "You are positive you have touched the bottom of your strengths and weaknesses?"

"What is one's greatest strength but their greatest weakness?" Seyashen breathed, instantly deflated.

"Open your eyes, Ivan.  Cast off the cloak of pseudo-religious narrow-mindedness that could only serve its purpose for so long.  You are- beyond it."

The Halfling's voice sounded suddenly extremely distant, echoing in various places back to Seyashen's stunned ears.  Concerned that he'd somehow cast some other spell without wanting to, the Tiefling removed his blindness.

And found himself in a small stone room.  Just five paces long and wide, there was barely enough room for him to lie down flat.

The ground was hard-packed dirt, as though he were in a pen, and aside from a thin trickle of liquid that seemed to sink down into the dirt at Seyashen's left hoof, there was absolutely nothing inside the four stone walls but him.  The silence- the complete absence of sound both in the physical realm and in the metaphysical realm was amazing to him- and welcome.  Not once since childhood had there been a moment's peace from the weighty presence of the departed.  Ghosts that walked with him to the well to draw water.  Wraiths that tore at the edges of his dreams until they were nightmares.  Liches that revealed themselves at dinner to warn him of impending danger- but at least their messages were normally useful.  The wights and shades that screeched at him merely to enjoy his agony were not even tolerable.

Seyashen sat down on the packed earth, laid his head on the stone wall behind him, and drifted back to a time when his mother and father were standing on a hill crest that overlooked a far-flung Tiefling outpost.  They had brought the family along since they had received news from a friend that the Turathi elite strike guards were somehow intending to find their shelter.  And as Imei'ishi and Vashen surveyed the land, a death knight stood before the terrified eyes of their six year old male.

"Do not let Vashen strike this outpost," the knight thought- he was unable to speak, but Seyashen heard him all the same.  "There is a sorcerer there who is scrying for your location, and Imei'ishi will not be able to withstand his wrath should she allow her defenses to drop for even the shortest of moments."

And when he had gotten over the shock of seeing this tower of black-armored terror, let alone being so close to him that the frigid grip of death gleefully prickled up his slender arms, all the small child could manage was, "But why are you talking to me?!"

He had since learned that the death knight had little choice in the matter.  Imei'ishi's gifts did not extend across the icy divide between the living and the unliving.  While many of his brothers, sisters, half-brothers and half-sisters were magically inclined, he alone of the family was heavily blessed and cursed with the ability to reach through the veil and touch those who had gone beyond it.  And for most of his life since that first horrible visitation, he'd begged every magic worker and deity to answer just one question- why him?  Necromancy, as natural to him as breathing, had cost him almost everything, and had made life seem like a furious god's gruesome punishment for a sin committed in some other forgotten lifetime.

Seyashen put these thoughts aside as best he could, figuring that if he had at last found the mental and spiritual silence that most living males and females blithely took for granted, he ought to at least enjoy it.  In just a few short minutes, the Tiefling that hadn't had a single nightmare-free rest in over thirty years was asleep.

When he awoke, he discovered two things- first, that he'd somehow gone from leaning on one stone wall to lying on his side on the floor, and second, that his father was sitting, his arm resting on one knee, looking  down at him.  For a male who had been able to summon images of his sorely-missed father for years, Seyashen found himself unreasonably afraid.  He bolted upright at once, squinting into Vashen's piercing golden eyes.

"What are you doing here?" he asked the almost flesh-and-blood image of his father.

Vashen scoffed, turning his head and gesturing to the four stone walls, which had somehow sprung back a little farther than Seyashen remembered them.  "Why aren't you more grateful to see someone you call back again and again, night after night?  And further, what are you doing here?"

"Ah," the Tiefling breathed.  "You're a conjuration of the Inquisitor."

"I most certainly am not," Vashen replied, sounding somehow insulted.  "If I harden my will against my own son, who hasn't given me a second's peace since I died, why would I heed the conjuration of some pint sized buffoon?"

"If you- if you're not-" Seyashen stammered, inching backward toward a wall, "What is this place?"

"The Axis of Afflux, Yasha- listen when people talk to you; you know I raised you better than that."

Seyashen blinked at him, wondering if he'd finally managed to trip over the edge of madness.  He felt quite sane, but didn't take that as a sign that he actually still was.  Most madmen, he reasoned with himself, have at least a few points in which they have better sense than the wisest court adviser.

"Now here's a question for you," Vashen continued, looking back over to his son and reaching out to touch the severed stumps of horn at his temples.  "What did you let that batshit Dragonborn do this for?"

Seyashen nodded, figuring that if he were going to go mad, he should at least be at peace with the images that took part in his delusion.  Scooting closer to his father, he took his hand away from the maimed nubs.  "He said I was demon possessed, and I- believed him.  I knew better, but I let myself believe him.  There were no better explanations- and for a time, there was some fragment of peace.  Perhaps he was partially right, I mean, what child, what creature anywhere, kills with a glance?  Or with only a thought?"

"I loved you- and I love you now better than ever."  Vashen took his hand away from his son, stood up and turned away.  "But while alive?  Not long enough.  Had I lived to do so, I would have whipped the flesh off your bones.  With anything I could have laid hands on.  Would have tattooed my name in scar tissue on your back.  I suppose I get a second chance, now- and then you must decide to let me go."

Seyashen blinked at him, utterly confused.  "You're going to spank me in the effort to get me to forget you?"

"No," Vashen said, letting a lazy chuckle sigh its way out of him.  "And I don't expect you to just forget me.  But I will gladly have my part in your spanking the almighty shit out of yourself.  Get out of here.  You're rested now.  Time to get up, get moving- let your balls drop.  Go on, you heard me, go!"

"Go where?" Seyashen hollered, bewildered and insulted.  "Or didn't you notice the solid stone?  No one is here to cast teleportation- I can't do that."

"If you do not get up off your ass right this minute and get out of this room, I swear by Baator that there will be an arrow through your skull, now git!"  And miraculously, when Vashen held out his right hand, his famous winged ebony bow simply appeared in it.  "No estoy jugando; no me provoques."

Seyashen, who had only vaguely remembered such temper, recalled with sudden clarity that Vashen certainly had been quick to use the side of his bow to slap his children.  He got up and, seeing that the thin streak of dark water had somehow become more like a creek that sunk down into the ground instead of springing out from it, decided to follow the strange flow back to its source.  He paused before the wall under which the creek disappeared, and apparently took too long to figure out how to get past it- sure enough, the side of Vashen's bow connected with his son's back.  When Seyashen inadvertently jumped forward, with closed eyes and the expectation of breaking his nose, he was greeted by the sight of green, rolling hills, majestic trees and the smell of ripening fruit.

"Madness," he whispered to himself, looking behind him to see what the stone room looked like from the outside.  But it was not there at all, and the greenery stretched on into a horizon that Seyashen could not see.   Where the dark stream ran, there was a strip of bare ground on either side, parched, that sliced through the grass like the scar of a burn.  "The Axis of Afflux: god of torture, inquiry and experimentation.  So I suppose I need to figure this out- no matter how great the pain."

And by figuring it out, he meant that he would simply follow the dark stream, and look around himself.  The trees, somehow knowing who was passing between them, pulled their branches up and away from him as though they had minds of their own.  Where he walked, the grass died, withered and faded into the ground, making it look just like the strip of wasted ground where the dark stream ran.  When he was finally too concerned and guilty about it to continue walking on the grass, Seyashen stepped into the stream.  It felt good, but not in the way that natural water ought to feel good- refreshing, cleansing or gentle.  Seyashen at once began to note magic-like properties: he did not feel as though he was walking in liquid at all, but instead as though he were stepping into a vein of exposed arcane energy.  Just as he truly began to give his mind to what exactly was going on, he heard something-

"Vuela, hechizo, ya con prisa; haga lo que mando yo.  Súbete al pico alto, húndete en el río.  Vuela por la noche santa, de los brazos y corazón.  Tráigame-"

"Mia?" Seyashen called, stepping out of the unnatural flow instantly.  "Mia'alhim?  Donde 'stas?"

"Eh?  Yasha?" came the bouncy, energy-filled girlish voice.  "Yasha!"  Like the child-master of illusion who had always won at hide-and-seek in life, the small Tiefling girl threw off her invisibility and ran to Seyashen, arms open and without concern.  Such fearless love had only ever been afforded him by this, his smallest half-sister.  He had always echoed her adoration back to her in waves, and this time was no different.  It was strange that she'd stayed the same age while he had grown so many years older, but he did not question what he believed to be the images of his own insane memories.  He snatched her up, twirled her in the air and hugged her to him, eyes stinging with tears that he forbade himself to shed.  Mia, sensing the layers of feeling, put her arms on his shoulders and pushed herself back from him.

"No be sad, please- I love you!  Now practice my Common, yes?"

"Oh- yes- sure, your Common is coming along nicely," Seyashen laughed easily, remembering that it was one of the last things he'd known the little girl had worried over.  For whatever reason, her normally bouncy manner became very contained and serious when it came to her studies.  He abhorred his inability to explain to his sister why Imei'ishi made her sit across the room from him on some bad days- and further, the fact that she had to sit across the room from him ever, at all.

"Put her down," a commanding voice sounded in the distance.  "I don't know who you are, or why you've brought us here- and I know it's your fault- but if you don't put her down, I will make you taste your blood.  Or what's passing for it."

Mia'alhim looked over her shoulder with a familiar stare, and in a few moments, a muscular, grim-faced young male Tiefling appeared out of nowhere, bastard sword drawn.  He wasn't very tall, but he had to be quite strong, Seyashen noticed, since he was holding a two-handed weapon with just one hand and managing to be rather menacing looking.  He was a good blow to the memory theory, since Seyashen could honestly say that he'd never met the creature before in his life.

"Practicing to be like my mother, eh?" Seyashen encouraged the little girl, backing up a single step.  "I'm kin to her, warrior.  I'm her brother."

"He is, he is," Mia'alhim chimed in happily.  "Te prometo- parece peligroso, pero no es."

The young male stiffened for a few moments, clearly struggling to understand, but once the realization that the little girl did not feel threatened sunk in, he relaxed and put his sword back in its sheath behind him.  "Then take your time," he sighed, sounding much older than his looks betrayed.  "My sister was that age, when I last saw her."

"Mi'ishaen?" Seyashen asked immediately.  "She's cousin to me, by Seya'ani, my mother's sister.  She met me just a short time ago.  Said she had a brother who would practice war games on her."

"Yes, I did that," the male said in a strange and wondering tone.  "At her 'request'.  Isha loved provoking me.  She couldn't rest at night if I hadn't given her a few bruises.  I wonder what kind of woman she... it's... been so long-"

Seyashen, unable to stand watching such a figure crumble, crossed over to him, leaving a cracked strip of dead ground behind him.  "She's strong, and intelligent.  Questions everything, and everyone.  She doesn't allow anyone to tell her what or how to think- you'd be proud."

The male Tiefling looked beyond Seyashen at the ground behind him, then straightened up and looked from Mia'alhim to him.  "You magic workers are beyond my mind," he admitted jovially, a sharp departure from the few pained moments just before.  "Where she walks, grass grows.  Where you walk, it dies."

Seyashen said nothing, but put Mia'alhim down behind him.  Sure enough, life reclaimed the ground that Seyashen had walked upon, leaving him in a strange island of destruction.

"This is the Axis of Afflux, I'm told," Seyashen said, not sure if either of these figments of his madness would understand or know anything helpful.  "I know both of you are- dead.  I have no idea why you're here- especially you, sir- or even why I am."

"Call me Iaden, cousin.  This your sister walked Avernus; crossed my path as I was stripping the names off our forefathers so that the likes of you could no longer summon them," the fighter sighed without a single note of bitterness.  "It was clear that she didn't really belong there, although she didn't seem lost.  I remembered Isha, and kept close enough to her to keep an eye on her comings and goings.  When she began walking out of Avernus, I trusted my post to another, and followed her."

"Ya que estamos," Mia'alhim grinned, "vamos.  Seguimos tu río."

In life, Seyashen would have demanded that she speak Common.  But here, in this strange land where she had somehow bested her own death and everything else's, he simply turned and began following the stream again.

2:13 The shadow of Shade.

I only spent a few more hours in the cell before a slender, pale skinned Shadar-Kai female proudly stood before my cell, waiting with the frail patience of a spoiled princess as one of the shame-faced guards opened my cell.  Niku bounded out first, barrelling his way past the guard and the Shadar-Kai, then turned to see if I were coming along.

I did not move.
With head still lowered, I allowed my gaze to meet this female of the tiarnaí.

"So you have eyes to see?" she sneered, crossing her slender arms over her chest.  "Look well, then.  You gaze upon Ntoru, a daughter of Netheril, a graduate of the mages of Thultanthar, a born master.  Even from my youth, all who saw me knew that my fingers were fit for spells, my tongue for rituals and my every breath for the most powerful of incantations.  I sense within you a marginally capable magic worker- come, serve your mistress."

Niku, after wetting in one of the other cells, padded back toward me and sat down outside the cell.

I looked over her many tattoos, her scars and her green and gold sheath dress.

"Are you deaf?" she demanded sharply.

I lifted my head, but said nothing.

One of the guards, after looking expectantly from me to her, reached into the cell, grabbed my upper arm in a vice-like grip, and pulled me out so that I was standing directly in front of the Shadar-Kai female.  She reached forward with one thin-fingered hand and brushed my cheek as one might do to their beloved.  While I was trained to accept all such touching without question, I found I wanted to turn away from her- so I did.

With narrowed eyes, the female reached forward and grabbed my chin in order to force me to look at her.  "Do not think, Silverhag, that your fame has escaped me.  Just a few simple scrying sessions told me more than I cared to know.  About how your low born Netherese father was joined to some worthless slag, and only rose in rank by proving his ability to overcome his circumstances.  Seems your inability to take your eyes off a beautiful female runs in your family.  Only when her issue died in her belly did she remember the power of her master."

"She defied Netheril in word and deed until she could no longer," I replied quietly, my gaze unmoving.  This female did not inspire anything in me but vague annoyance- her crowing rang false and hollow.  "I am not Netherese."

"Beware- her defiance won nothing but destruction.  Everything she touched was obliterated.  Her lover.  Her children.  Her land.  Her entire life, burned to a smoking pile of ash, over which your father climbed to a comparatively blissful mediocrity.  I hear he has won himself a proper Netherese bride, by which he has two honourable sons."

"There is nothing honourable about males raised to rape and slaughter children," I found myself saying.  I lifted my head to match her height, and found that I was taller than she was- a minor fact that for some reason emboldened me.  Niku, pleased by this, got up and began wagging his stump of a tail, giving out the tell-tale short whines that would soon become barks.

Ntoru smirked, snickered, and finally outright laughed in my face, to the absolute surprise of the guard who was about a foot away from my right side.  "Is that a faint desire for vengeance I sense?  On a crime so long cold that an entire generation separates you from it?  Ceubel has forgotten you, hag, as one could have expected him to have done- a strange-skinned, cursed-eyed, idiot savant who never knew how to raise her head before this moment.  He made but one mistake- he sold you to the skin tiarnaí instead of putting you out into the scarred lands for the witches to tear apart.  But, I suppose back then he needed the coin."

"Hey now, hey now," the guard interjected, stepping a bit closer to the female.  "You keep that Shade-talk to yourself.  Whatever she was before, she's got rights now, as a free person and a documented visitor to Urmlaspyr."

"It is I who may speak of Thultanthar," Ntoru hissed, "not you.  You know nothing of our customs and our ways; therefore, hold your peace.  This creature is a slave- the gods have handed her this fate, and she should not defy them.  Slaves have no rights, but depend instead on the wisdom of their masters."

"And you are not my master," I stated simply.  "You have no right to claim me, for you are not of the tiarnaí daor at all."

"Oops," the guard laughed with a satisfied smirk on his face.

"How dare you!" the female growled at once, her fury causing the shadows in the cells to deepen considerably.  She smacked me with her open hand, and Niku jumped up at her, barking and snapping.  A well placed slap on the muzzle caught him, and before I could say anything, Niku coiled up and threw his full weight on her, bringing her to the floor at once.  The guard pushed past me and dragged Niku off, and when I turned my head back, a dark, hooded figure stood at the foot of the ascending hallway.

"Let the hound go, for he is right to tear at her," a threatening male tenor rumbled.  "How dare she, a pretender, lay a hand on anyone."  The guard, visibly shaken by the presence of this hooded male, dragged Niku past him and up toward the upper levels of the prison.  Niku's furious howls and barks echoed down the halls long after I lost sight of him.

"You!" the Shadar-Kai female spat, getting to her feet and adjusting her figure-hugging dress, which had been torn at the midsection.  "You came up from the tombs for what?  For this- thing?"

"It is for her that I have come, but she is no thing to be claimed," Svaentok scoffed, pulling his hood back and fixing the female with a glower that made me wither in spite of myself.  "Your deeds would make even the most cowardly domestic slave laugh you to shame, yet you descend from the spire in which these Humans have shut you up like one cursed with the plague to dredge up someone else's less-than-fortunate past?"

Ntoru's eyes lit up with indignation and embarrassment.  "All that you can crow about are deeds long past, Yrel-Ades.  I have not, as you have, left my homeland in disgrace, fleeing some secret shame.  I sought out the masters of Thultanthar, became a prized student!  I guide the hands of the merchant ruling class!"

"And you are the footstool of an aged Human mage who could run your guts through with acid arrows as she broke wind in her sleep," Svaentok scoffed.  "Stand away, or you shall soon gather your skirts and run."

"Oh, I shall run, shall I?" Ntoru purred derisively, winding her way under Svaentok and pressing against him. "So says the former master of whores, who has since recanted his ways and donned a monk's robe.  What do you think you hide, Yrel-Ades, under all that cloth?  Do you think you can pray away the tears in all those girls'eyes?  How do you meditate while they still scream in your memories?"  She feigned embarrassment, placing her hand over her mouth with a smirk.  "And does your pet know which sect of tiarnaí you commanded?  I hope I haven't spoiled this night's surprise."

Svaentok, who was also taller than Ntoru, lifted his frame just slightly higher and folded his arms above her head.  He turned his head and sighed at the ceiling.  "If you pass a resting beast, provoke it not."

"Oh, but you're not at rest- you were a charm breaker, laden with hundreds of females, yet unable to be satisfied, commanding scores of useless sacks of flesh just like this one with a blink of an eye or the snap of your fingers," Ntoru giggled girlishly, having completely changed her tactics.  "And now you claim a new toy.  What will your female have to do to you, Yrel-Ades, when you get her back under the earth with you?  Back into that bare cave, in the darkness, on the frigid stone, will she lay her head in your lap?  Will she crawl on her hands and knees behind you, chained by the back of her neck to your hips, as so many were before her?  Crow of what you will do, if you can.  Or have you finally succeeded in burying the dominant beast you were in all this detestable sackcloth?"

"Silence!" Svaentok at last burst out, his sudden temper making Ntoru stagger forward a few steps.  "Be grateful I suffer my family name to fall from your lips, for I am still Yrel Svaentok pir-Ades, first born to that house, native to the Eboneye Commune, whose weakest border sparks with such magic as would shatter your mind.  I have never failed to be your better; not since my early youth have I even considered what it might have felt like to be as weak as you are now.  Why should you call upon me to crow, when just one of my deeds would outweigh your entire miserable life?"

"I survived and bested the Thultanthar mages!" Ntoru shot back, now crossing her own arms and standing firm.  "I bore with their abuses for years, wore the stones away with my knees, nearly went blind translating and transcribing thousands of magic scrolls!  The magic they taught me would tear the flesh from your bones."

"I touched not one thing they touched, nor did I walk where they had set their feet down," Svaentok snorted.  "I did not once bend my knee or expose my neck to those cursed, blind fools.  Instead, I burned my name into their nightmares, stealing and selling off their children, ransacking their secret lairs, slaughtering their beasts to paint their homes in blood, throwing down their monuments to Shar and smashing their implements to the ground. Some even resorted to the Material Plane to escape my hand, and when I first came, it was to find them.  For I was not born a slave, as clearly you were, but a warrior.  I was not once the most feared skin master, but still am, and will be until I breathe no longer.  All that has changed is my willingness to accept payment to force the sensual arts on those who do not wish to learn."

Ntoru stared at him- a strange glare charged with both fury and intense desire.

"Quiet at last?" Svaentok commented, his tone softening as he closed the space between himself and her.  The way he approached her, a half-circling motion with his frigid blue eyes stripping her down like tender meat from young bones, made him seem like an entirely different male.  "I would not deny your pleasure- I am more than able to satisfy the hunger cries in both flesh and spirit.  Do you wish to learn the many arts of the House of Yrel-Ades?"

And without a word, Ntoru gathered the bottom of her dress up to her knees, ducked between Svaentok and myself, and ran back up the hallway toward the higher cells.

"Your word is sure," I said, lowering my eyes.  "Surely my lord did say, 'you shall soon gather your skirts and run.' "

With his back to me, Svaentok laughed a small, bitter chuckle.  "I did."

"You still command with the strength which the gods have sewn into you, and cannot do otherwise," I counseled, nearing him without touching him.  "I was born docile, and accept this from their hands without apology."

"Perhaps you were not born dominant," Svaentok managed, turning around to walk up the walkway toward the outside.  "but you are as strong as any who believes that they were."

I followed him after a few moments of silence, and we continued on up the slowly winding path toward the outside without any contention from the jumpy guards.  I was not taken to a healer at all- possibly because everyone assumed that Svaentok would ensure that I was alright.  The male Human in charge of the records- I could tell based on the location of his post and because of Mi'ishaen's account of being documented when she left- simply waved at Svaentok.  All the way at the mouth of the prison, where the brilliant noon day sun stretched her fingers between the bars, sat Karth, who had Niku on a well worn leather strap.

"So the ink of that vine never washes off, does it?" he said, only half jokingly.  "Ntoru ran out of here like you'd set fire to that daft wee getup of hers."

"I am rarely glad that it cannot," Svaentok replied, pulling his heavy black hood back over his shaved head.  "Do not speak of this to anyone else.  Ntoru has her place, and I mine."

"To be sure.  This is yer battle hound, eh, lass?" Karth asked, holding the knotted end of the strap out to me.  "Just heard today there's a tax for not putting yer dog on a strap."

I smiled faintly, reaching out my hand to accept the frayed end, tying a knot into it and slipping my hand into the knot.  "We belong to each other now, Niku, how is that?"

Just as I thought he might, Niku began wagging his tail- what was left of it- eagerly, jumping up to put heavy paws onto my legs.  He didn't mean to, but he tore through the bottom of Vhalan's cloak, leaving bruised streaks on my thighs and the front of my make shift dress in rags.

"He's an affectionate one, for a battle hound," Karth noted.  "Never saw him act this way with the old man he had before.  He'd better learn how big he is for ye.  Now, Lord Svaentok-"

"Brother will do," Svaentok interrupted with a pained look and an upraised hand.  "I have done with crowing, this day."

"Brother Svaentok, then- keep this lassie as far as ye can from the Tiefling rogue.  I ha'nae a quarrel with their type, but-"

"Aberration, yes," Svaentok sighed.  "Although Humans have hardly ever needed a good reason to call anyone such a name.  Any being with sharp ears, red eyes, pale skin or fangs suddenly becomes worthy of burning and stoning.  It's hard to imagine having descended from the same forbears as these- beings."

"But ye did," Karth shrugged.  "We all come from just two races- Eladrin and Human.  And if everybody would remember that for just a few minutes in between trying to kill each other, things like- oh, say the Spellplague or the empire wars- wouldn't happen."

Svaentok nodded, folding his arms across his chest so that the sleeves of his cloak hid his hands.  "It is as you say."

He turned away, and I quickly followed him.  Niku bounced up and intended to run on ahead of us as he'd done with Miíshaen, but the strap kept him from getting as far as he would like.  Svaentok and I walked in silence through the town, and the people, seeing him, gave as much space as they could.

"That- those reactions?" Svaentok sighed when we'd reached the dirt path that wound down to the temple.  "That is the legacy of Thultanthar.  The mages who thought that eternally fighting the Shadow Curse was a blessing of Shar eventually had children who returned from her little playground to pummel the Humans and other races who had been left behind generations earlier.  Karth is part of a permanent detachment from Cormyr, specifically planted here to ensure that the Shadovar do not again overtake this place as they did Sembia.  The people here are scarred, afraid- and they will be for generations to come.  They did not understand that a Shadar-Kai could despise the Netherese just as much as they did.  Karth held me in great suspicion, and at times, still does.  As it is Ntoru who stands as their sole example of docility, I am loathe to give him another reason to compare us."

"He kept the town people away from me," I offered quietly.  "If they had believed me but a witch, perhaps they would have simply sent me to the stake.  But they called me Netherese, and began to stone me even before Mi'ishaen-"

I realized suddenly that Svaentok's temper was linked to his magical ability, for the moment I sensed his anger rise, I could also feel a shock wave rise against me.  It reminded me very much of my former master, but Svaentok was not at all a striking sort.  His was a controlling energy- the air around him became so charged with his admirably controlled frustration that I found myself pushed back a few steps.  I waited until he had calmed down a bit before I asked him another question.

"Did my lord receive any of my sisters into the House of Yrel-Ades?"

"I did not," Svaentok replied firmly.  "Ceubel was-"  He stopped suddenly, and I almost crashed into him.  Niku seemed to sense that this was a tense moment, and stood panting, ready to dash back toward me at any moment.  "When your father approached mine- for at that time, Yrel still ruled the house from his sickbed- my father would have accepted all four of you.  He did not know that Ceubel was selling girls as young as three years old- Anyka, I think that one was, at the time.  But I, who had the blessing of health, had seen your two older sisters caring for you and your little sister as your mother and her mistress walked the Grand Market in the plain lands.  Byta alone was my age- physically sound, peaceful, caring- lovely to look at, and worthy to be bought.  Worse, almost all of Eboneye had heard of how your mother refused to give her master- your father- what was left of her ancestral land so that he might join the rest of the commune in pledge to Netheril; I respected her greatly for this.  I argued at length with my father, telling him to have nothing to do with the transaction.  Some years after that, we hear of mercenaries from Spikearm Commune burning a path to the House of Shuun-Cziau, snatching Ceubel's daughters out of their beds and beating and defiling them before their mother's very eyes. I-"

"He did it," I said, mostly to myself as I turned my gaze out to the sea.  "He paid the mercenaries to kill everyone in the house, to beat us and rape us- all of us.  He hated my mother, and her friend.  He hated all his children- hated me.  We were his curse."

"Not at all," Svaentok soothed, gently holding my shoulders.  A sense of calm radiated from him as strongly as if he had cast the words of docility like a spell.  "If anything is his curse, it's that yellow-backed ambition of his.  He'd shock Asmodeus himself with his awkwardly underhanded heartlessness.  Ah-"  He took his hands away suddenly, clearly self-conscious.  "Forgive me- I only meant-"

"To comfort me, to give me peace," I smiled weakly over my shoulder.  "It is natural for us to relate in this manner.  Even when you try to ask forgiveness, you command it of me."

Svaentok bit his lower lip, nodded slowly and sighed.  "You are right- as probably you normally are.  I suppose if I must give you commands, they may as well be good ones.  You have a core of wisdom within you that you must not neglect because you think yourself lesser than those around you.  Instead, culture it- let it grow with experience.  You are, I hope you will realize, not a curse.  Let the weight of your father's hatred pass from you, for although the gods may have gifted you with great patience, I doubt that they gave you that self-loathing that you carry so quietly beneath your skin, hoping that no one will notice it there."

And all I could find to say was a stunned and faint, "Oh."

2:12 Reaching neutrality.

The jail smelled horribly- Mi'ishaen's face wrinkled in disgust as soon as we entered and were handed off to the three "inner cell" guards.  I fared a little more poorly, my body nearly constantly attempting to force what I'd eaten the day before out of me.  The inmates that were in the upper cells seemed to be minor offenders- young, skittish, worried looking.  But the deeper that we descended into the cells, the older, angrier and harder each criminal looked.  Mi'ishaen planted a hoof against the bars of one curious male, crushing his grime-crusted, sausage-thick fingers without remorse.  My stomach twisted violently at the sight of his bloody, smashed hand, but by that time, the soldiers didn't even bother to grab a bucket for me.

Mi'ishaen and I were taken to the cells across from the "questioning room" and thrown into separate cells, side by side, with no other prisoners on the level with us.  Niku was dragged, barking and snapping, around the far side of Mi'ishaen's cell and attached to a chain that was probably supposed to fasten someone's manacles to the wall.  Angry, he tried to follow the guards to harm them, but quickly ran to the end of the chain, choking himself instead.

The guards kicked and laughed at him.  Two of them turned to walk back up the carved ramp toward the upper levels of the jail, but one of them stayed behind, sitting at a rickety wooden table to play five finger catch with a dull knife.  Mi'ishaen spat at him, heaping curses on him under her breath in her native language.   To no real effect, however- he sat contentedly, slamming his knife into the wood table around his fingers- and only catching a finger once or twice.  I leaned against the cold wall and counted in time with his rhythm, realizing after a while that it was what was saving him from losing fingers.  I wondered what he would do if he actually had to play against a live opponent, instead of sitting alone, able to go at whatever pace he chose.

"Knew I'd see you again, you know," he offered after he'd successfully completed the round of his left hand twice.  "Your type comes back."

"So you must see your mother often," Mi'ishaen spat bitterly.

"You could take up a trade," the guard continued, completely ignoring the insult.  "Weren't half bad sharpening weapons, I'm told on good authority.  You learn to smith in the Hells?"

"You learn to play five finger catch with your little sister?  She must make twice her allowance money playing with you, you bloodmop."

"Hey!" the guard shot, pausing his game for a moment.  "You're no lady, but save this one's ears, yeah?  Mouth like that ought to be stuck in a trough."

"I'm not the one who started this lovely little chat," Mi'ishaen crabbed.  "I didn't ask for your delicate company.  You don't like what I say, don't talk to me."

So the guard fell silent.  Other than the constant bang-bang-bang-bang-BANG-bang-bang-bang of his knife on the long-suffering table, his cursing when he caught a finger and Mi'ishaen's cursing when he tried to strike up conversation, there were no sounds.  Niku, who had been so furious before, fell oddly silent.

I could only tell that it had gotten late by the fact that a long while after we arrived, he was brought food and ale by a slender Human female.  He ate his fill, demanded more ale twice, settled his stomach loudly, then finally fell into a overfilled stupor.

It seemed Mi'ishaen expected all of this.

"He's dead to the world," she whispered after he began to snore.  "Aleksei would make a fool of him in any tavern."

"Aleksei made a fool of a Dwarf in his own tavern," I responded with a smile.

"I can get us out of here," Mi'ishaen offered brightly.  "We can find some place where the guard line is thin and slip through to whatever land is north for a while."

"They can't hurt me," I replied, somehow knowing that this was what she was most concerned about.  "Neither of us had time to do anything wrong; actually getting out would give them something to charge us with."

"Well, you're not sleeping on this floor," Mi'ishaen decided.  With that, I heard the bars in her cell clatter, a tear of fabric, then a clacking report that meant her hooves had hit the ground.  The guard stirred with a snort, but a flash of white flew over to him- it took me a few more moments to realize that Mi'ishaen had quickly moved to him and hit him in the head to put him back to sleep.

"He'll remember that," I warned weakly.

"He won't; he's drunk.  He's just lending me his keys-"

"We shouldn't break out-"

Mi'ishaen turned from the guard, keys in hand, and put a finger to her lips.  "Quiet.  I'm not breaking out, I'm breaking in."

Niku, perhaps understanding what she was doing, stood and began whining with occasional yips that threatened to become real barks.  Mi'ishaen opened her own cell and dragged out a terrible looking skin that vaguely resembled the one that'd been thrown over some straw in my cell, shushing Niku to no avail as she opened my cell bars.  When she let herself in, dragging the skin behind her, Niku at last let go of one full voiced bark that reported sharply up the hallway.

"Oh, for- hang on," Mi'ishaen sighed with exasperation.  I could see nothing, but heard the rattle of keys and chains that meant that she was setting Niku free.  Perhaps she expected him to run off down the hallway toward the outside, but instead, he tore around the far cell's corner, pushed his snout into my now-open cell door and leaped on me, burying me in affectionate dog-kisses.  "He loves you," Mi'ishaen said offhandedly as she got inside my cell, reached around with the keys to lock it, then put them on the floor and pushed them back toward the guard.  "After having known you for a day.  Quite an effect you have on males of all races and types.  A little inconvenient, but I can't say I blame them."

I sat up with some difficulty, having to push Niku off me, but managed to get a hand onto the small of Mi'ishaen's back.  She turned, sat down on the floor and managed to pull me and Niku into her lap.  Niku was well pleased with this arrangement, and refused to move from my lap, effectively pinning me into Mi'ishaen's lap.

"Are you comfortable?" I asked breathlessly, since Niku's panting pushed hard against me.  "You didn't pull that fur in here just to be stuck on the bars-"

"It's about as comfortable as I was the first time I was here," Mi'ishaen smirked, laying her arms over my shoulders.  "I'd rather be stuck with you than the sot.  Rest well."

It was wasted hope, unfortunately.

I dreamed of walking alone on an endless beach, a pitch black sea pulling its tide as far away from me as it could.  Far above me, the gargantuan carved wrought metal arches of Sunderhope crowned blackened, blasted peaks that pierced a violet sky.  I was weighed down with chains everywhere- in my hair, on my arms, wrapping around my body and dragging behind me in the sand.  It seemed they not only were around me, but also sprung from me, pushing out of my flesh at strange angles like exposed broken bones, twisting this way and that.  I felt tired- a weariness that came from hauling all the weight- and completely lost.  The true Sunderhope of my childhood was nowhere near any water of any kind; the three wells that existed in the commune had been summoned by magic many years before I'd been even thought of.  This knowledge, which bled through from my waking mind to my dream's awareness, did not bring fear upon me, but instead a sense of hopelessness.  Worse, no matter how far I walked, the sights around me did not change; it seemed as though I may as well have been standing still.  Yet, in the distance before me, a voice encouraged me to continue.  At times, it seemed like Aric's worn and reedy voice, at others, Svaentok's rolling low tones- once or twice, it took on Vhalan's troubled tenor.  But at all times, it repeated the same thing-

"I have seen you, and I await you."

I woke up with a jump when I felt a tug- Mi'ishaen had been yanked up, and Niku instantly jumped, barking.  I rolled over just in time to see Mi'ishaen smack the right side of the cell, face first.  She thumped down to the floor with a pained grunt, but when the guard- the same one she'd hit the night before- came forward to strike her again, she spun around and planted a hoof into his groin.  I hurtled myself forward immediately, both to keep any more harm from coming to her, and to keep her from striking anyone else.

"Enough- all o' ye, no better than fishwives and their menfolk!" cried a now-familiar voice.  Sure enough, the red-haired dragon guard returned and pressed himself between us and two other town guards.  "Ye bloody horses' arses makes me job a muckle hell; I stay not in the spire, like I ought, nor on the docks, where I were put, but I must needs be down in the belly of the blasted place, watching ye whilst ye watch the prisoners.  Makes a body wonder what ye does with them what lives here, then, when no one's about."

"Push off, MacSairlen, she hit me first," the first guard spat, his filthy face glowing with anger.  "She's got no respect for anyone."

"By the beard, an' I'd no' stayed- ha' ye then respect, eh?  To bash a body into the wall?  'Tis a blow like that killed before, innit?  Or did that wee problem, what I hears ye're still on watch for, slide clear of yer minds?" Karth roared, backing all three town guards up to the far wall with the force of his anger alone.  Beyond me, Niku barked his agreement, but when I turned to look at him, he laid down quietly.  "Hawd ye on to this lass, and I'll take this lot into me own custody, seeing as that what ye brings her down here for were a numptie charge to begin with- 'aberration' me gram's knickers.  Mind ye handles that one proper, or I'll ha' ye banned from service, the lot of ye- Council of Merchants and their bloody appointments be damned."

"Enough, that'll be quite enough," a fourth guard volleyed, pulling off his gleaming helmet as he trotted down the walkway that came from the higher levels of the prison.  His face was long, lean and bitterly experienced.    Because his skin was high toned and his jaw strong, only the bold, thickly-drawn semi-circular tribal tattoo around his left eye betrayed his Orc heritage.  "Took me long enough to get to this mess, but I'm here now.  The three of you do get out- let me hear just one more poor report from MacSairlen, of all people, and I'll beat you back to the merchant's guild myself without even glancing at your records."  The three guards shuffled off slowly, but without any back talk.  After watching them leave, the half-Orc turned his attentions back to Mi'ishaen, who had rolled away from me and laid with her hands over her face, and to me.  "Shame we have to keep meeting this way, Karth- wish I could get you out from under the dragon.  Who have we?"

"Mi'ishaen," Karth sighed, trying to help Mi'ishaen up, only to be swatted away.  "New bone rattler's cousin, town tales says.  Last time she were here, that's where thee gets thy Dragonborn from."

The guard chuckled to himself, crossing his strong arms over his chest.  "Ah, Voyonov.  Good, frank, incredibly strong.  Haven't gotten around to battle-testing him myself yet, but saw some good work out of him in the yard- even with that awkward weapon.  And this?"

"Silverwitch or crone or hag, or some such stuff, says Ulwen and his lot by the docks," Karth shrugged.  "Don't sound right to me, but from what noises they made, thou'll't choke thyself to death with the Drowtalk.  Dog's name escapes me, but from the ink on him, he's the battle hound of the gang leader what were just hung a day gone, missing his master and fresh found another."

"Niku," I interjected, to everyone's surprise.  Niku responded positively, however, turning around in a few circles and sitting back so that his wagging stump of a tail was high in the air.  Instantly afraid of the attention I'd drawn to myself, my gaze and tone lowered as if by enchantment.  "His- name is- Niku."

"I see- I suppose I should introduce myself.  I am Nithraz, High Captain of the Guard.  Recent promotion, you understand, as the male for whom I used to be Lord Captain has died rather suddenly," the guard stated seriously, turning and pulling the chair from the table behind him to sit down.  "Karth, do me a solid and take Mi'ishaen up a level.  I hear she's owed an apology by Ygroff, whose hand I told the court healer to leave just as it was.  Males want to know what chases females off toward abomination, I say there's the start of it."

"We're due a talk about that, mind thee well," Karth replied quietly.  " 'Tis little business of ours who takes what into their rooms when comes the night."

"Perhaps aberration is dandy in Cormyr," Nithraz replied, looking up at Karth, who'd finally convinced Mi'ishaen to stand up.  "But in Urmlaspyr, we don't tolerate it.  No good for the children.  Now go on, and have the healer take a look at that eye- do you want shackles for her?"

"Nay, 'tis nae danger of her wandrin'off," Karth replied, having already turned his back both on Mi'ishaen and Nithraz.  "She's a tricky sort, I ken.  Lies like she breathes.  But thee sits with what she puts store by, so says Voyonov.  From the looks o' this morning, he says right.  Keep the lass well, is all."  Having gotten most of the way up the walk way toward the next level, the Cormyran soldier turned around and looked expectantly at Mi'ishaen, who was still checking the rest of her body for damage.  "C'mon, then, won't ye?"

Mi'ishaen looked back at me, so I got up and kissed a growing bruise on her arm as gently as I could.  "Let calm fill you."  Although the traditional calming words of the tiarnaí daor were all I could think of to say, I was still somehow surprised that some swift reprimand did not follow my daring to use the masters's speech.  Oddly enough, the sayings of docility had always truly comforted me, and I half-hoped they would do the same for her, no matter the murky past they had sprung from.  She put the bruised arm around me for a few moments, then let me go and turned to follow Karth with a completely silent, uncharacteristic compliance.  When her form disappeared under the walk way's stone arches, I sat down on my knees and feet, awaiting whatever words would come from Nithraz.  Niku, who had been patiently lying down near the back of the cell, got up and put his heavy head and one paw in my lap.

"You are the first prisoner to speak of calm down here since a set of three Shadow Child witch women," Nithraz noted, leaning back in the chair with a contemplative look on his face.  "I was a tot then- this was years ago.  Masters of magic.  Could twist the mind in your skull until it was mush.  Yet they were brought down here, to the very bottom cells, and they spoke of nothing but calm.  My father was amazed at them, spoke sadly of them, when they were burned."

"Why were they burned, master?" I asked, though I kept my eyes lowered.

"Master?  Heh, no, no thanks.  They were burned for unauthorized witchcraft, sweetheart. Around here, you can only practice magic if you're registered with a recognized coven.  Doesn't matter who you worship or what you do, really.  Even Shar's got a temple, unfortunately.  The Council just has to have documentation.  They love their paperwork, and it's our job- well, my job, really- to get it to them.  So tell me, where do you practice?"

"I do not practice," I began softly.  "But I have been asking many questions of the master Aric, in his temple to the Raven Queen close to the shore."

"Ah," Nithraz reflected warmly.  "Loved for his wisdom, feared for his knowledge.  You picked well- bone mages are dangerous, so the Council won't question his 'enlightenment' long enough to figure out whether you're really one of his acolytes or not.  Now, are you a pickpocket?"

"Yes," I replied simply.

Nithraz's face changed slightly, as though he were surprised to hear this.  I was not sure why he should be, as I was certain that he would not have asked the question if he had not been made aware of what I'd done. "And did you help to kill those rat thieves on the docks?"

"Yes, I did."

"Have you ever been a slave?"

I paused, now really wondering why he should ask such a question.  Figuring after a few moments that he was perhaps testing my honesty, I gave a proper answer.  "Yes."

Nithraz suddenly got up, coming inside the cell and squatting down before me, which caused his sword to scrape at the ground.  Niku got up and eyed him suspiciously, so I put my right hand on his neck to calm him and convince him to sit down.

"Look up," Nithraz commanded.  When I did so, his dark brown eyes instantly fixed upon my own.  "Tell me, are you enthralled?  Fight it, just for a moment.  Any sign will do."

"No, my lord," I said, the reply coming so quietly that it was just a breath away from being a whisper.

"But you consort with that Tiefling- you're saying she's not controlling you in any way?"

"She controls me, but without force, for she abhors slavery," I found myself saying.  "I would obey any command without question, and would, as my gift to her, even obey unspoken directives."

"What you describe is aberration- do you know what that means, girl?" Nithraz asked with a note of urgency.  "It's clear that she is dominating-"

"No, my lord, not so," I interrupted, trying to make myself more insistent.  "She would not accept me as a slave.  She hates slavery of all kinds.  I don't follow her because she dominates me- I am- free."

"Then you are aberrant," Nithraz sighed, somehow wounded by this.  "Consorting with this Tiefling as you have done in public, naked, in full view of children- I'm afraid you'll have to be scourged, at least."

"If this is what must be done, then let it be done," I nodded, allowing my gaze to settle more comfortably on the floor.

"You- are- oddly accepting of this entire situation," Nithraz noted, crossing his arms.  "You do realize how this sounds very like domination, enchantment- as though you're not in control of your own mind?"

"I understand that you wish to defend your children," I replied.  "I saw no one on the shoreline, but I did not look closely.  I did not wish to harm a child, but if I have done so, I must be harmed as well, for that is the way of things."

"And taking things that belong to others is harmful as well, did you know that?" Nithraz said, almost with a chuckle in his voice.

"I did not think that they would feel it gone," I shrugged.  "Yet, if they were hurt by my actions, then I must also be hurt."

"So if this is the 'way of things,' why is the true High Captain dead?  How do you explain that, sweetheart?" Nithraz asked mournfully.  I looked up at him, and reached out a hand to him slowly.

"I do not know what he did in his life.  But I can tell you what he was doing right before he was killed."

Nithraz looked at me, braced himself, and nodded sharply.

"He spent his last moments threatening Mi'ishaen when he who you call Voyonov had directly asked him not to.  He had insulted both of them, was separating them with his sword, and was about to harm Mi'ishaen.  Bahlzair took offense and killed him, for he is jealous of his kills, and has marked Mi'ishaen and Voyonov for himself."

"Sounds to me like your friend Bahlzair is dangerously insane."  Nithraz got up and turned his back on me, and I put my hand back on my lap, where Niku looked over and licked at it.  "Why are you telling me this?"

"Why should I not be honest with you, my lord?" I asked, completely confused.  "You are asking me these things for the good of the people you serve, so that they may be properly defended from all things."

"So if I asked you about all the things that Mi'ishaen and Bahlzair, who seem to be the two nuts in your fruit cake, like to do for fun, you would tell me?" Nithraz snorted derisively.

"Yes," I nodded slowly.  "There is no reason to do otherwise."

Nithraz sat back down in the chair by the table and looked at the knife marks on the surface, tracing a few of them with a distracted finger.  "It's intriguing how you say that.  'There is no reason to do otherwise.'  There is never a good reason to lie."

"Not so, my lord," I breathed.  "I have lied with good reason many times."

"If you have a master plan behind all of this, you're doing a miraculous job of hiding it," Nithraz sighed.  "Lying is wrong."

"Not so," I replied, finding that I wanted to look up at him.  In the brief silence that followed, I allowed myself to look at his distant, thoughtful face.  "If the truth will harm someone, then the truth becomes wrong."

"Is that your only moral compass, then?  What hurts and what does not hurt?  Can you justify all your actions, both good and evil, by saying, 'I didn't mean to hurt anyone?' "

I shook my head, and Nithraz snapped his attention from his thoughts to my face.  "No, I cannot.  Sometimes I do mean very much to harm someone.  Purposefully hurting someone, either by what is done or by what is not done, is evil."

"So you have done evil, then, by your own standards?" Nithraz sighed, glancing at his helmet, which sat on the floor beyond my cell.

It was my turn to think, this time.  Niku picked up his head for a few moments, and when I looked down at him, I thought of the males from whom I'd defended myself, and the one unfortunate male who did not escape Vhalan.  I had watched him become Vhalan's host, and had not done anything about it.

"Yes."

"I see why I was called in on this, but I don't believe I'll be able to charge you with anything at all in public court," Nithraz announced at last, getting up and walking over to reach down for his helmet.  "I can't possibly explain abomination to you if I have to first define what simple good and evil are.  I'll arrange to have you released into Aric's custody, and we'll see what he can do to keep you from consorting naked with other females."

2:11 Aberrant.

I did not move, or turn away from Vhalan as he fed.  Instead, I patiently waited, watching the male in his grasp writhe in agony for a few moments, then stop moving.  After some time of pushing against me and wriggling around, Niku quieted down and laid his head in my lap.  It didn't seem as though Vhalan had any intentions of actually killing his prey, so I remained silent until he had finished and leaned back with a low, heavy sigh.  His eyes flicked up to mine after a few minutes, and I cast my gaze downward as he had previously advised, but did not move.  Vhalan snorted at me, then got about the business of untangling the Human from his chain.

"So you stay?"

"My lord wished me to stay," I replied simply.  "He commanded me to be more aware of who and what he was, not to leave him.  Thus, I stayed, to behold his actions."

"Yes, precious lamb, believe, like the earnest, obedient, humble little child you must have been.  Drink in the pseudo-spiritual credo that merely facilitates the crushing of individual will- 'what you do is who you are.' "  Vhalan got up slowly, having coiled his chain around his shoulder, and walked toward me.  When he reached me, he put his foot beneath Niku and pushed in order to get him to move.  This done, he brushed his hand down my neck, paused at my piercing, then grabbed of a fist full of hair.  Niku began growling at once, crouching low as though he would soon pounce.  "Tell me, if you can, who am I about to become?"

I said nothing- I was terrified, and could not answer.  For over the sound of my own heartbeat, the rushing of the water, the screeing of some distant morning birds and Niku's protest, I heard chains.

A shadow flew over my head, and Vhalan released my hair and backed up a few steps.  Niku hopped around a few times and barked, and because I wasn't sure where Vhalan had gone, I looked up- to see Betzal scratching Vhalan and whipping at his face with a masterful wingspan two times what I would have expected.  I wondered only why he should protect me when he had not previously come to stop Vhalan from biting into the male who was trying his best to climb back up the beach toward the town.  After a few minutes of pestering, Betzal successfully convinced Vhalan to drop his outer cloak and stagger off toward the catacombs.  I, being more than tired, picked up the cloak, wrapped myself in it, and laid to sleep as close to the water as I dared.

I awoke to a feather light caress pulling my hair back, and turned over thinking that it would be Aric, Svaentok or Vhalan.

"Hello, Gorgeous," Mi'ishaen whispered, a relieved smirk tugging at her lips.  "I guess the innkeeper's wife didn't recognize you after all.  What- surprised to see me?"

I sat up and hugged her at once, leaving the top half of the cloak behind in the effort.  Niku, who had been sleeping on the other side of me, picked up his head and began sniffing loudly.

"Picked up a friend, I see," Mi'ishaen laughed, hugging me tightly.  "Good with animals but bad at keeping clothes on?"

I sat back for a few moments and looked at her, clothed in a thin white dress that I felt sure she would not have chosen on her own.  "You went and got a dress after all," I noted with a smirk.

"Prison fare," she explained with a shrug.  "When I got out, I didn't see any of my things again.  Armor, weapons, money- gone.  Who knows where they stashed them."

"But what did they put you in prison for?" I asked, turning my head slightly to the side.  "You hadn't stolen anything yet."

"If that's what you think, then I'm not as bad as currently I feel like I am," Mi'ishaen scoffed.  "There were a couple of lighter purses.  They thought you were nicking your share too, but they were satisfied with just catching me.  Might've hung me for murder too, if Aleksei hadn't sold himself to the guards.  He's supposed to be out looking for Bahlzair.  Seen him?"

I shook my head.  "Not since he spat in Aric's fire and caused some acid burns in the catacombs."

"Catacombs?  A guard mentioned a couple of small burial grounds, but- oh, we've got catching up to do.  Here, you give me the cloak- I'll figure something out- and take the dress.  Just a minute-"

And Mi'ishaen pulled her dress over her head.  For a few moments, we were both blissfully uncovered, and since the water was so close by, I simply wet my hand and splashed her face.  Her eyes went wide with surprise for a second or two, but she quickly smiled and pushed me into the water, moving in after me while Niku bounced around and barked.  We had both waded out into the tide by the time he decided to stop barking and sit down on the dress and the cloak.

Mi'ishaen was filthy, as though she hadn't had a bath in days, so I wrapped my legs around her waist and got my fingers into her hair.  She ducked into the water a few times to attempt to get me off her, but I only squeezed more tightly.  Taking apart the thick braid wasn't easy, but after she gave up trying to wash or shake me off, she began to clean herself off.  We spoke in clips of what had passed over the past few days as we both bathed, the incoming tide washing some of the words away with its roaring.  After we'd actually gotten the business of bathing done, we continued to play, laughing with each other and splashing every now and again.  I again felt the sweet sensation that I was sure was freedom, unhurried and peaceful.  We stayed for some time, looking at birds, trying to catch small creatures in our bare hands, conversing, watching the sun's reflection on the water.

When my foot struck a stone and I curled up into the water, I found Mi'ishaen's arms around me- strong, concerned- and allowed her to bear my weight until I could stand again.  But even after I could stand, I found I didn't want to leave her embrace- and it seemed she did not want to let me go.  We stood in the tide, looking at each other, slowly allowing our foreheads to touch.  Her hair, thick and black, lay in strips over her horns, on her face, and pulled back on her head, while mine glazed me like a sheet of ice, sticking to my neck and chest.  With one hand, she began pulling some of it away to move it behind my shoulders, and after a while of this, she cradled the back of my head in her hand, bringing me slightly closer to her.

All was silent, it seemed.  The sounds of the water, the calling birds, the distant town- all melted down into quiet and rested between Mi'ishaen's beating heart and my own.  The moment she turned her head barely, I was more than glad to fulfill the unspoken command, closing my eyes and pressing my lips on her own.  My body trembled, warmth reaching its tender touch from between my thighs up through my belly and toward my breasts.  I brought my hands up to her head, but she pulled back, breaking our contact.  Not wanting her to feel so strangely, I moved back in close to her and traced one ridged horn from her temple to its curled tip.  She, in turn, reached around and lightly brushed the piercing at the back of my neck.

"I've never seen this," she whispered, not needing any more volume for me to hear her, even with the constant rush of the water.

So I turned around, pulled all my hair to one side, and turned my head.  "The image there is Drow-drawn, but my-."

"Let's not talk about him," Mi'ishaen sighed, putting her hand on my shoulder.  "unless we have to.  And even then, the creature's dead.  Just use his name."

"Let's not talk about him at all," I smiled, turning around and letting my hair simply lay over the other shoulder.  "Are you hungry?"

"Is that a passive way of saying that you want something to eat?" Mi'ishaen laughed, putting an arm around me.  "Come on, then, I buried my pouch a little ways up."

"May I go back to the tree by the catacombs and get Svaentok's scroll?" I asked, moving out of the water with her.  "It's not far, so it'll just take a moment."

"Sure, you go get that, I'll get the money, and we'll meet up by the path up the beach," Mi'ishaen agreed, reaching the shore and pulling the cloak out from under Niku.

I tugged at the dress just once, and Niku sprung up instantly, running up the beach then returning to me as I pulled the dress over my head.  I discovered that because I was wet, the dress clung to me- worse, because it was white, I was only slightly better than naked.  Mi'ishaen, for her part, had torn a strip from the bottom of the cloak's cloth to make a thin, long belt, and used it to tie the cloak at her waist.  Once she turned and saw the white dress on me, she shook her head.

"That won't do at all.  Try to get as much water out of that as you can, and I'll get the money and the scroll.  Just stay right here; I'll be back."

So as she moved off, I took the dress back off to wring it out.  I laid it flat in the sun and laid down on the sand myself- and Niku decided to lay on top of me.  I couldn't manage to get him off, so he remained, his weight pinning me down, for nearly an hour before Mi'ishaen returned.  When she did, she decided that the dress wasn't any better, so she gave me back the cloak and its make shift belt and put the dress back on herself.  After all, according to her logic, there was no reason why I should be wearing prison clothing, and she didn't want to give the guards any ideas.  With all this agreed to, we began walking back up the coast toward the town, close enough to take each others' hands if we felt like it.  At first, Niku tried to put himself between us, but when I looked down at him, some strange understanding descended upon him, and he contented himself with walking in front of us or at my side.

"So Bahlzair literally just got up, spat in the fire and darted out of the place?"  Mi'ishaen asked for the third time after we walked for a few moments in silence.  "And no one could find him?"

"I don't even know what he was so angry for," I shrugged, knowing she didn't really want a real answer to a question she'd asked twice before.  "My lord Aric was not saying anything offensive- although he is good at making one uncomfortable."

"Uncomfortable or not, there's no reason to do that," Mi'ishaen grunted, pursing her lips.  "I mean, that poison- he can kill someone, choke them to death with the fumes.  As though he cares about that."

"I think that was his intention," I admitted with a small shrug.  "His inner pain, in that moment, was too great.  He needed to inflict it on someone else."

Mi'ishaen stopped dead in her tracks, and I turned around immediately, wondering what was wrong.  Niku bounced around, offering a few short, sharp barks as though he were also waiting for an explanation.

"That's- you're- by Baator, you're amazing," she managed at last.  "Bahlzair has actually attacked you in the middle of your fighting someone else who would have killed you, yet you manage to defend him?  You and Aleksei both are simply incredible."

I looked down at the clay beneath my feet, mildly embarrassed.  "Aleksei has known Bahlzair for some time," I offered.  "They're not friends, but they're extremely honest enemies."

"Of course!  I should have enemies like that, that will- for whatever reason- follow me from town to town, prevent me from adequately defending myself, but yet defend me from other people so that they can kill me at some other time!" Mi'ishaen exclaimed, waving a frustrated hand to the sky and walking forward again.

"You do have an enemy like that," I smiled calmly.  "I think Bahlzair has found room in his heart for you."

"Oh, he can push off with that type of caring friendship," Mi'ishaen snorted as we passed by the town limit stones.  "It's one thing to work together to get out of captivity.  It's quite another to be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life, worried that he's going to spring down on me from some roof to slit my throat."

"I would stop looking," I shrugged.  "I would just assume that he's on top of the roof, and if he springs down, move to one side and see if he falls on his face."

"What I don't understand is how Aleksei intends to find him," Mi'ishaen grumbled.  "It's not the smallest of cities, this Urmlaspyr, and I've seen that creature cram himself into a stove.  Here's another thing- if I think what you're saying is out-of-skull, Aleksei takes the cake.  'We're different in the same way,' he says.  How's that?  Makes me wonder if he's using the proper Common for what he means."

"He is," I nodded.  "Bahlzair and Aleksei are both pact subjects.  There's nothing Bahlzair can do about his, but Aleksei's pact was somehow never completed- it's very volatile.  Bahlzair is very aware of it- even a little angry at it.  He didn't think very much of Mikhail at all."

Again, Mi'ishaen stopped walking forward.  "Pact subjects?  Magic pacts?"

I turned around and sat down on the warm, loose stones in the poorly paved street.  Niku whined at this second pause, coming to put his paws in my lap.  "Exactly.  Mikhail spent most of his days trying to force Aleksei to complete the pact by mental domination.  He just kept pushing him to remember what he'd already done, inflicting nightmares on him until he couldn't sleep at all, saying there was no escaping his past- one awful morning, it worked.  I could feel Aleksei giving in- the moment he did, I was terrified to be in the tent with him- the shadow almost ate my soul right then and there."  And Mi'ishaen's gaze suddenly looked past me, into a memory that clearly bothered her a great deal.  I got up and ran the few steps between us, kneeling down again right before her.  "Did you feel it, too?"

Mi'ishaen returned to herself slowly, retracting her mind from the memory and bending down to yank me to my feet.  "No.  And he didn't want- he was sorry, when he snapped out of it.  He carried you to that camp in his arms, protective- like a father.  He would never- it was Mikhail's damned magic.  I tell you, that stuff is a curse.  It destroys everything it touches.  Power like that belongs to whatever gods exist.  Other males and females ought not have it."

"But I have it," I said quietly.  "No one taught me; it just happened, right after I was sold.  I saw what my- what Ashok did, and while he studied and worked hard to attain his mastery, it just- came natural to me.  I liked it, until people started calling me Silverhag, but- I- wish I knew more."

Mi'ishaen looked deeply into my eyes, seeing there, I hoped, something that she still cared about.  She bit her lips, and after a long, deep sigh finally replied, "Then- go learn from someone- who isn't a nutcase."  After a few moments, she took my arms and drew me close to her.  "It's not like I didn't wonder.  I mean, that frost glyph.  I just-"

"You know a bit about magic yourself," I finished, almost whispering, my hands lightly resting on her upper arms.  "Your cousin lost his father, his horns, and almost his sanity.  And your mother- I remember.  Magic has caused you a lot of pain.  But I will never hurt you- never- I swear it, even unto death."

"I can only hope that you have more luck with your promise to me than I've had with mine to you," Mi'ishaen managed, her voice tight with emotion.  I stepped closer in her embrace and laid my head on her chest, listening for a few moments to her fluttering heart.  It was hard to believe at first- I hadn't imagined before that she would be nervous or bothered about anything, especially anything having to do with me.

"I still believe you," I soothed.  "Syjen certainly did not survive you.  And Mikhail was- different.  He harmed everyone he gazed upon, everyone he touched.  When we went into that cave- I heard the screaming of his people- they were dying, but- somehow, he just didn't care.  Their trust and loyalty were wasted on him- he had to pay.  I had to kill-"

"You!" Mi'ishaen exclaimed, holding my shoulders and stepping back for a moment.  "You killed Mikhail?"

I found I could only nod sheepishly, like a child whose secret had been discovered.  Mi'ishaen laughed, breaking the tension completely, and pulled me forward again into a fierce embrace that winded me for a few seconds.

"He deserved it!  That bastard deserved it.  It could only have been better if Seyashen had burned the eyes out of his skull, or bobbed his tail first- by the Hells, there must be some benevolent god somewhere.  Did you tell Aleksei you killed that nutter?"

"I had to tell him.  He told the leaders of the neighboring land that he would do it himself, but I suppose they did not mind who really did it, so long as it was done, for no one asked about it afterward," I said, surprised at Mi'ishaen's utter joy.

Niku had gotten up and lain down a few paces beyond us some time ago, realizing that we were not likely to move for a few minutes, but suddenly, he picked his head up and began growling.  Mi'ishaen, dropping her arms from me, moved to see what the matter was.  I followed, not sure what danger could be present right inside the city limits.  There were small houses- little more than scaling and boning stations that could be slept in- that were cast about, not at all as close together as those farther into the city.  The real dock, where we had been attacked, was farther up the coastline.

"It's clear," Mi'ishaen noted.  "It's meal time, anyway, so I don't know why anyone with a home would be outdoors right now.  Come on, the inn's not so far."

For a few minutes, we walked in silence- aside from Niku's continued growling.  He moved at a snail's pace,  his muscles tensed.

"Perhaps he is nearing the place where he was caught," I explained to Mi'ishaen quietly, stopping to pat him.

"Or perhaps he's reacting to all the people coming out of their homes to stare at us," she replied distractedly, pulling me to my feet and urging me forward.  I turned to look at her, and by some good fortune saw a woman with her hand raised to throw a stone.  Wrapping my arms around her, I managed to move her back a half step- the stone missed her, but grazed my back.

"Aberrant!" the woman hissed.  "The witch and the demonkin are aberrant!"

A small chorus of other voices hollered "Aberrant!" but others recognized Niku, shouting to each other about the familiar returning with his true witch.  In mere minutes, people who had been eating their midday meal had come out to chase us with stones.

"You don't have any weapons, do you?" Mi'ishaen whispered, apparently trying to fold herself around me in the effort to protect me from more stones.

"No," I urged, realizing that a rather familiar looking group of men were coming up behind us.  "But I don't think they even know what they're saying.  I know I don't have any aberrant blood in me."

"I don't know what they're saying either, but I know that they're pulling stones out of the street to throw at us," Mi'ishaen shot back.  "That's enough for me."

The group of Humans from the night before blocked the path behind us, and the path before us grew thicker and thicker with townspeople hollering at us.  "So this witch is yours, eh, demonkin?" one of the males snarled.  Mi'ishaen let me go and whirled around to face him.

"Look, I do not own this female!" she screamed.  "I am tired of people saying that!"

"Word gets around, girlie, in case you haven't noticed," the male pressed, coming close to Mi'ishaen.  "It's no secret that you went to the lockup, and that she ought to have gone with you."

"If you don't-"

And that was all of the threat that Mi'ishaen was able to get out before Bahlzair's pact blade sung directly between her horns and into the Human's head.  He stumbled backward a few paces with a look of utter surprise on his face, then fell backward, dead.  Everyone stopped shouting and began looking up at the rooftops in terror.

But Mi'ishaen's frame relaxed.  She crossed her arms over her chest and turned her head to one side.  "You know, Bahlzair, I'm less impressed with this one.  A trained soldier is one thing, but a defenseless workingman is another.  I could have just punched him in the face and sent him on his way."

I laughed, then put my hands over my mouth at once, since the situation wasn't at all funny.  But Niku, having lost the sensation of danger, began bouncing around and barking, waiting to play.

"That's enough- enough, all o' ye," a commanding male tone hollered out.  "Ye ought not be stoning people in the streets like this.  Go back inside and let me clear this up, eh?  Go on!"

"Go sit on that dragon," one of the townspeople commented, but the crowd otherwise quickly moved away, leaving a broad-shouldered Human male with a dragon emblem on the shield hanging on his back.  He turned to face us once he was sure that the townspeople had truly forsaken the street, and although his horned helmet covered much of his face, his piercing blue-green eyes were captivating.  They reminded me of Svaentok's, and I wondered what he was doing in that moment.

"And so we meet again, dairlin'," the Human sighed, almost jokingly, to Mi'ishaen.  "Been tailing you personally.  Just a night of fun, eh?  Seems like something a wee bit more serious to me."

"You ought to pay me for getting your jollies.  Now you can ask her yourself if she's a slave," Mi'ishaen snorted.  "If you want, I can walk away so that you can be sure I won't harm her for a wrong answer, or something silly like that."

"No, no, any fool coulda told that yer answer, and the frustration what went with it, were the truth," the Human replied seriously, looking down at the dead male.  Blood had pushed its way up out of the knife wound and was pooling under his head.  "And I'd be quite the fool, to let ye walk out of me sight at all.  But now the town guard has another dead man in the street."

"Those town guards took my armor and my weapons," Mi'ishaen shrugged.  "I couldn't have killed that man even if I wanted-"

"Hawd that thought," the Human commanded, holding up his hand and looking upward.  "The weapon just pulled itself out of the man's head and flew up into the sky, as if it were returning to the hands of a god."

"Well, if you think Pelor put the runes on that dagger, you're sitting in the wrong temple," Mi'ishaen spat.  "I suppose I'm going back to jail?"

"Afraid so," the Human nodded, turning back toward us.  "And this time, yer young burd comes as well- with the familiar, who ought to be on some kind of strap."

Mi'ishaen turned around and began walking up the street.   "All those people who threw stones aren't going to even get a fine, but the girl's being taken to jail for not putting her hunting puppy on a strap.  Justice surely exists in this place."