FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"Everyone. Everyone." Colfor rapped the board he held for attention. When the conversations among the slaves died down and they all turned their focus to him, the rabbit majordomo coughed and composed himself. "We have a special job tonight. The witch is hosting a party at her estate. Zurra, you're on for a water dance as usual." He nodded to Azair, who translated this into the signs that the otter spoke. "And Hyla, you've also been specially requested. We have need of three others, two male, one female. Totukepsan himself will be attending, so we need everyone at their absolute best. Volunteers?"

He was greeted by silence. Normally there was a chorus of vocal slaves eager for something different.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

An elk piped up. "The witch has a party once every four weeks."

His comment was continued by an otter. "It's been only two weeks since the last."

And finally concluded by a jaguar. "Zurra's the only one who ever gets specially requested."

Colfor looked from slave to slave, but none of them were looking at him. They were all staring at the hulking badger who stood head and shoulders above all of them (except the elk, who only stood as tall as she did by virtue of his antlers). The rabbit cleared his throat. He tapped his writing board. And when that failed to draw any attention, he stamped with a foot in true jackrabbit style, causing a loud thump that echoed through the room. "Is there a problem? We need volunteers."

Still, there was silence, because all the slaves had noticed the one other oddity of Colfor's announcement, but were afraid to mention it. Finally a young ferret worked up enough courage to whisper out, "Master hates the witch. He never goes to her parties."

Colfor held up his quill pen and jabbed the tip of it into the air to emphasize his words. "Almost never. He has, on occasion, visited her on matters of great import. At such times, it has been our job to distract the local nobles and keep them from gossiping too much: if we put on a good show, then that is what people will be talking about."

A wave of relief washed over the assembled slaves. This was different because it was important to the Master, and they had a job to do. Instead of volunteers, the slaves debated amongst themselves on who would be best. They decided on Djessa One-Eye, the jaguar woman who had spoken up before (and had, in fact, two eyes, but one very nasty scar across her face), and Pollard, a male tiger, both of them chosen for their striking pelts. They also picked Marl, a male skunk who was the singularly best endowed male among the slaves.

Then the five slaves (Zurra included) set out across the city, riding in a graystone-powered coach. Hyla would have felt more comfortable walking, but Colfor assured her that it was proper for such a high society function that even the slaves showed up to impress. And the coaches were not the only way that was accomplished. The simple leather collars and plain cloth that the slaves wore around the House had been replaced with engraved metal and silk. Hyla felt strange in it all. She was used to wearing clothes for functionality and purpose, and as fine and soft as the silk was, it felt pointless.

As they rode, the slaves huddled together and discussed ideas for how to entertain during the night. Usually the witch had her own plans, but in case she didn't, they needed to devise a variety of entertainments. Hyla's eyes slid away from the group to Zurra. The otter hung at the back of the coach, watching the buildings roll by. Without Azair there to translate, the deaf otter could not communicate with the others, but she did not seem to mind. She knew her job, just as Hyla knew hers.

Hyla returned her attention back to the chatter between the other slaves just in time to hear Djessa say, "...and I heard he's coming to Anaros."

"Where's Anaros?" the badger asked.

There was a queer look among the other slaves and Marl finally extended a single finger downward.

"The coach?"

"No, the city."

"You mean it's not named after--" but Hyla cut herself off. Of course this wasn't a badger town. Those were almost always named after their leader. She'd even heard of a "Hylakwol" far to the northwest. "So the city is Anaros?"

"Well, no." Marl shifted a bit in his seat before launching into a quick geopolitical explainer. "The city is properly called the City of Leaves. Anaros is the city and all the surrounding areas controlled by the city. But most people just use Anaros to refer to the city too. Easier that way."

Hyla nodded, understanding most of the explanation. The other slaves were kind enough to not press her on what she had thought the city was called.

As the coach carried them across the river, towards the far side of the city where the witch's estate lay, Hyla began to notice a change in the buildings that trundled past. They were fewer now, but more elaborate. Houses that opened directly onto the street gave way to buildings with a fence, a garden, a walkway, and only then a front door. More and more homes made use of glass and iron and exotic paints. There was one house in particular that drew the badger's attention: it had been painted from top to bottom in a garish purple.

Hyla stared at the purple house until it faded in the distance and then turned to look at Djessa. The jaguar met her gaze and shrugged. She didn't understand any better than Hyla did.

But the jewel on the horizon was the witch's estate. Hyla remembered seeing it shimmering on the far hill the first time she set foot in the city. But now, as the setting sun caught the many panels of glass around it, it gleamed and flickered in brilliant reds and purples. Here, the nobles did not rely on the dim light of candles or graystone, but torches that blazed at such regular intervals that there was barely a shadow cast.

The coach the slaves were in was one of a growing train that wound its way through the city streets. As they approached, Hyla leaned over the edge to watch as dignitaries and the upper class disembarked at the witch's gate and were announced, complete with their formal title.

Then the coach in front of them stopped and Totukepsan himself disembarked. The coyote was introduced simply by his name: when you were important enough, no title was needed.

After him, Colfor stepped out, the hare dressed in an even more elaborate robe than usual. He bowed to the announcer, who took a deep breath and announced him: "From the House of Totukepsan, we welcome Colfor, of the Red Desert, where the Eastern Fork of the Long River Leaves the Barsenad Forest..." He went on like this for almost a minute, continually adding place descriptor after place descriptor.

Marl nudged Hyla's ribs and whispered low, "Never heard Colfor's full name, huh?"

The badger shook her head.

"Apparently, among the rabbits, when you leave your village, you give up your family name and take on... well, a set of directions, basically. That way, if ever you get lost, your name can lead you back home."

Then the coaches were moving again. And it was time for the slaves to shuffle out. They were not announced by name, only declared to be "the evening's entertainment." While the coaches were not the central focus of the party, there were still plenty of eyes on the slaves as they disembarked. Hyla considered for a moment then touched Zurra's shoulder and made a motion with her hands.

The otter got the message immediately. She took one step back and then launched herself at the badger, who caught her and lifted her high overhead. And so they entered with Zurra twirling in the air above the badger's head.

While holding the otter up, Hyla took a chance to look around the witch's estate. In one word, it was lush. The outer part of the estate was a winding series of pathways through magnificent gardens that were no less beautiful for the fact that the flowers had closed for the evening. Some hedgerows had been carved into decorative shapes and even the few trees in the garden had an air of being meticulously sculpted. Water features dotted the landscape, powered by graystone that pumped the water up into arcing fountains. Beyond the garden was an enormous manor house that, so Hyla felt, had been built with the sole purpose of being just slightly better than Totukepsan's temple. One wing of the manor was a multi-level greenhouse, whose windows Hyla recognized as the source of the wonderful display of reflected light she saw from across the city--from across Anaros, she corrected herself.

Zurra discreetly tapped Hyla's arm and she let the otter down to the ground. Of course, the otter could not just be lowered. She deftly twirled around Hyla's grasping arm before touching the ground with the grace of a falling leaf. Zurra danced off into the crowd and the badger watched her, thinking that for all the wealth that the witch's guests had poured into their clothes, it was Zurra who looked the most graceful and elegant.

The slaves, as agreed during their ride across town, made their way through the guests and displaying themselves in their own way. Marl was a show-off: the skunk quickly discarded the clothing they had traveled with and over teasing glimpses of his impressive package from behind his fluff of a tail. Pollard was cocksure: the tiger swaggered his way through the partygoers, a wink and a chuff offered to any whose gaze lingered on him. Djessa could smolder like no other: the jaguar caught the attention of a single male noble and had him behind the bushes within seconds of their arrival.

And then there was Hyla. She knew her skill in seduction wasn't close to that of her peers, so she stood out the only way she knew how: with her strength. She flexed and showed off her muscles and somehow managed to attract a larger crowd than Marl did. Badgers were quite rare outside of their lands after all.

Hyla saw flashes of Totukepsan as the troupe of slaves wound through the garden paths, but the god did not appear to be enjoying himself much. He was stiff and formal in a way she had never seen him before. He greeted important townsfolk but quickly excused himself and skulked away. So it was not long before even Hyla, who was trying to track him, lost him among the crowd.

But then Hyla started to hear the whispers.

"There he is. Totukepsan! Can you remember the last time he was attended?"

"Hasn't been for years."

"I can't remember the last time it happened."

"I heard he got in a fight. Maybe he came to cheer himself up."

"Maybe he came to sulk."

"Maybe he came to seek the witch's advice."

"But they hate each other!"

"No one gives better advice than your enemy."

"And there, that's her! The one he fought."

"Nonsense, she's a slave. She wouldn't fight her Master."

"That's what I heard."

"It was just a disagreement. You know how rumors can make things sound worse than they really are."

"Besides, I heard..."

Eyes were on her now too. They recognized her. They knew who she was. Hyla tried to keep her gaze down and away and followed the other slaves in to the center of the party, where long tables were set out with delicacies.

"Help yourself," Marl said, as the skunk picked up some skewers of breads and cheeses and nibbled on them. "The food is for everyone. Us included."

Hyla, who in anticipation of a working day had eaten before travel, sampled a few things. But around this time, the guests had gotten over the initial surprise of Totukepsan's appearance and started to want to enjoy the slaves for their intended purpose. A small crowd had gathered around Zurra, who was performing handstands, cartwheels, and other feats of balance and flexibility amid the attention. One amorous party-goer, wearing an ornate mask, was feeling up Djessa One-Eye, fresh from her brief tryst in the bushes. Pollard and Marl, each with snacks in one hand, were stroking each other with their free hand and showing off their erections to the onlookers.

The crowd around Hyla had thinned slightly, and those who remained stayed a fearful distance away, eying her rippling muscles. The badger tried to allay their fears with another flexing pose, which was moderately successful, and a broken-toothed smile, which was less so. A small wisp of a gray fox came closer, and Hyla had an idea. She held out an arm, presenting the bicep, and asked the noble to take hold. She did and was whisked off the ground as Hyla lifted her arm. The fox whooped and laughed as she swung in the air, and when her feet finally touched ground again, the remaining fears of the crowd had dissipated.

People pressed in around her, many to touch, but a few to converse. One memorable noble peppered her with questions about her diet and exercise routines, and she imagined that he was the sort of parent who treated child-rearing as a competitive sport.

All the slaves entertained in their small ways, and as they did Hyla learned more of a side of the city she had never seen before. The House of Totukepsan was the business center of Anaros, and the main tourist attraction as well. But here wealth was not traded, but flaunted. This was the upper crust.

While many of the guests dressed gaudily, several more were dressed formally. The city did not have soldiers (with a god and witch in residence, it had no need), but it did have a formal police, and some of their higher ranked officers attended in uniform. There were also other officials from the city, including the mayor. Since Totukepsan and the witch ran most of the town, he was more of a bureaucrat than a leader, but this had to be explained to her slowly, as Hyla did not have a deep understanding of a bureaucrat was. The closest comparison in badger society was a blacksmith at a larger sett who had retired to oversee the armory, making sure all was in good condition and accounted for. So it was with some surprise to her that the mayor was not a grizzled veteran, but instead a portly man who laughed a little too loudly for her taste.

And then, there she was. The witch. Hyla recognized her immediately even though she had never before met her. Everyone else at the ball was showing off their wealth and status. She did not need to show her power: she simply was powerful. She glided through the ball with ease, acknowledged by all.

Of course, the fact that nearby flowers opened and followed her despite it being night also helped to identify her.

She was a raccoon in a simple black dress. She circled the quartet of slaves while sipping on her wine and nibbling on offered hors d'oeuvres. She came to a stop in front of Hyla and looked her up and down.

Hyla remembered something that otter traders had mentioned when they passed through her set. "You can always trust a witch in the end. But never trust one at the beginning."

She felt as though she were being tested. So she spoke first. "Which one are you?"

The raccoon tilted her head and lifted one ear. "Pardon?"

"I know the Woodlight Witch, but you are not her."

"Oh I see. You're not from around here." The witch lifted a black-gloved hand and weaved her fingers through the air in peculiar patterns. A bit of ivy sprouted from the ground beneath her and began to crawl its way up her body until it coiled in her still moving hand. "I am the Winding Witch."

Hyla bowed slightly. "It is an honor to meet you."

The Winding Witch laughed a high, chittering laugh. "The honor is all mine. Rarely have I met someone who has... tangled with Totukepsan as elegantly as you have." There was something in the raccoon's tone that told Hyla there was history between her and the god.

"As you say."

Perhaps seeing that she was going to get nothing else from the badger, the Winding Witch flicked her ivy-covered fingers. "I think it is time to begin the festivities properly." The ground underneath Hyla trembled slightly and she felt the smooth stones be replaced by a mass of plants that began carrying her. The other slaves, sans Zurra, were being brought along as well, with Djessa barely holding back the laughter from the ticklish feeling of the plants underfoot.

The slaves were moved to the far end of the tables containing the party's foods. Here there was a small platform one step above ground level, which was just big enough for the slaves to stand in a circle, shoulder to shoulder, facing out. The witch told them all to hold their hands behind themselves, which they did.

Then the witch set her glass down on the plate of a passing servant so that she could devote her full attention to what came next. The raccoon then started to move. Her motions were scripted and formal, involving every part of her body from her ears to her tail, but they came in short bursts with chops and kicks, so that it also resembled a cross between a martial arts form and a dance.

Hyla could feel the power in the movements and could feel their impact. The ground beneath the slaves quavered and pavers gave way as a tree sprouted at the center of their circle. Tendrils of vines wrapped around each of them, slithering around their wrists and ankles to keep hands locked tight behind their back and their feet firmly on the ground. As the witch spun in place, branches sprouted out around their heads and the badger watched as the leaves grew and then twirled in the same spiraling motion.

For a moment, Hyla was distracted and failed to notice one more vine that was growing up from the ground. Then it plunged into her sex and her eyes went wide in shock. It grew until it had entered her as fully as she had ever been filled. Then it went still and as hard as petrified wood.

The witch slowly came out of her dance, standing right before Hyla. For a moment, raccoon and badger watched one another, and then the witch picked up a new glass of wine and whisked back off into the party.

The badger tested the strength of her bonds. Surprisingly the vines felt a little loose. Hyla was sure she could break her way out of them if she wanted to. They were just there for show. The witch wanted your feet down and your hands out of the way: exposed. But what was really keeping her locked in place was the vine that had pushed its way into her sex. It was hard and unyielding and did not allow her to move forward or back. It had pressed so deep that Hyla had had to stand slightly up on her toes to prevent being hurt. But with her feet kept attached firmly to the ground, there was no way for her to lift up high enough to get off of it.

Hyla turned her head one way and the other to try and see the other slaves around her. Pollard the tiger was on her right, and Marl the skunk was on her left. Djessa must have been on the far side of the tree. As best she could tell, they were all bound the same way, although the vines for the men were pressed up under their tails. The angle of them meant that Hyla could look down at their now fully erect shafts over their shoulders. Pollard, as a tiger, was one of the few slaves at the House of Totukepsan who was roughly close to Hyla's size, but Marl was the better endowed one.

A crowd of party-goers had gathered around the tree and its ring of slaves. Their food was forgotten, they were here for the show.

But Hyla did not understand why they didn't get closer. They were mostly helpless and presented. She expected them to approach and grope and tease them. But it seems the witch still had some trick in store. Because beneath her, the vines had started to move again.

The vine that had entered her sex was no longer perfectly still. It felt like it was blossoming slowly within her. Smaller tendrils or petals, she wasn't sure, sprang from the tip of it and caressed down her inner walls.

It made Hyla shudder. The most dexterous tongue, fingers, or shaft couldn't tease her like that. She could feel the tiger and skunk on either side of her wriggle back against her as they were pleasured in no doubt similar ways.

The tendrils or whatever they were kept expanding and caressing from the depths of her sex out to the entrance. Hyla found herself shifting to try and get a little more attention at once spot or another inside herself, but the touches were too light to have much impact. Then, at just the point where the same action had repeated for long enough that it started to lose its novelty, the vine went still for a moment before starting to move in reverse. Now the tendrils caressed from entrance to depths and Hyla couldn't help but groan.

"I know," said the skunk under his breath. "She's good at this, right? Get ready for a long night."

Hyla did not ask him what that last comment meant. She steadied herself as the tendrils seemed to finish closing and return to their initial movement. Back and forth, slower than breathing but just as insistent.

The badger was interrupted from losing herself to the pleasure by a servant who had climbed up onto the platform next to her and was offering her a drink of water. She gratefully accepted and watched the servant step around to offer the same to the other slaves. (She heard Marl whisper something under his breath and then the servant giggle, as if he had said something flattering.)

Hyla jerked had in her bonds as she felt something brush past her clit. This earned a small laugh from onlookers, who were watching the newcomer. She tensed and gritted her teeth. She didn't mind being used. She didn't mind being on display. But mocked, that was something else.

She felt a tap on her knuckles from Pollard. The tiger rumbled out a purring suggestion. "Just let it happen. Everyone gets surprised the first time."

Hyla looked down to see what had so surprised her. The vine that was slipping into her sex had grown a single leaf on a short stalk and the leaf was sliding back and forth with as much slowness as the tendrils inside her. Every minute or so the very tip of it would just graze against her clit. With so much attention on her inner walls and so little on her clit, each simple touch of the leaf felt ecstatic and even when Hyla could tell it was coming she shuddered at it.

The badger could feel something else shifting in the vine. She craned her head forward to look, until she nearly cramped from the awkward position. But she was able to see the vine split apart forming several new stalks that undulated far more rapidly through the air. They reached up and began to slide and slither in quick, sharp motions along her labia. Unlike all the other motions of the plant, which were slow to the point of madness, these were quick, twitching movements unlike any flora and most fauna. More than that, they seemed intent to change their pattern every time she had figured out what it was. First they all moved together, then they rocked in undulating waves, then they alternated left and right, and then moved in patterns she could not name or describe other than to say how delicious they made her feel. She could feel her fluids leaking down and coating the vine, and she could feel her sex rhythmically and instinctually clenching down.

And there was no way to change it, no way to make it move faster now that it had stoked the desires deep within the badger. The bonds still did their job of holding her hips in place quite well, and it wasn't like you could beg a plant to speed up or rub a little more at that spot. (You could, but Hyla knew she'd look utterly silly doing so.)

After the initial surprise of the slaves' predicament had worn off, the crowd turned its attention to Zurra, who began one of her famous water dances, splashing in and out of one of the fountains, arcing and spinning through the air, all while completely nude. Every once in a while, the dance would pause and she'd surface suddenly at the edge of the fountain and steal a kiss from someone at the edge of the fountain. Hyla found herself absently fantasizing about Zurra appearing in front of her with a sudden kiss turning to a more intimate caress of her breast. Even when her dance officially ended, Zurra continued to sway and weave through the crowd, to the delight of all attendees. The otter happily hopped up on tables, darted between delighted onlookers, walked on railings, and even, at one point, swung from the branches of the tree that had sprouted between the four other slaves.

Hyla at least appreciated the distraction. The vine was continuing its maddening teasing beneath her. The air around her was full of the sounds of her fellow slaves. Djessa was holding her breath and then gasping out in cute, delicate bursts. Marl and Pollard were both breathing hard and when Hyla turned to look over their shoulders, she saw their cocks dripping profusely. Hyla tried to remain more in control of herself, pressing her claws into her palm to provide an alternative to the pleasure. But even she was not immune, and the badger would occasionally let out a deep, low, rumbling moan.

Finally after what felt like an eternity of teasing, the crowd of party-goers looked to spice up their evening further and began to directly approach the slaves. While they still kept a slightly respectful distance from the warrior, the crowd did not have such trepidation about approaching the others. She heard a grunt and moan from Marl and turned to look over at him. One of the guests, a female deer, was caressing the skunk's shaft delicately with a gloved hand. She could see the strain in his hips as he tried to grind and thrust the little bit the vines allowed. His head lolled one way then another, and the deer stroking him laughed in delight. Another woman came to replace her in teasing the skunk. And then, after her, a third. Hyla knew the area had fairly libertine views towards sex, but she had expected the local nobles to be less interactive. She did notice that a servant was on hand with a damp towel to clean the guests' hands after they had played.

There was a touch on her own thigh. Hyla jerked her head around.

Beneath her was a petrified rat, couldn't be more than twenty. Hyla quickly swept the scene: the rat appeared to be part of a group of similarly aged young men, who had been goading the rat into approaching her. But now he looked like the proverbial boy who caught the monster's tail, and even his fellows seemed apprehensive.

Hyla breathed out, slowly and silently, she relaxed as best she could, and she tilted her head in a "Come closer" motion.

The rat shot a cocky grin back to his friends and stepped up onto the platform beside her. He was running a hand along her fur, and Hyla could tell he'd not had much experience being close to naked women. So she tried to be calm to encourage him. That was helped a bit by the continuing teasing of the vines. Just as his hand ran along her abs, the vines seemed to hit some new spot within her and she rolled her head back and crooned without thinking. The rat took that as an encouraging sign and continued his exploration. His hand worked with a determination up the curve of her body to her breasts, even as she could see the nervousness in the corners of his eyes and the twitchy motion of his tail.

When he finally reached her breast, he latched onto it with his hand, as if expecting to be bucked off any second, but Hyla simply took a deep breath and exhaled with a quiet moan just loud enough for him to hear. He groped her for a while, although he had turned to show off for his friends.

Hyla heard a frustrated moan from Marl and she looked over to see a somewhat surprised looking woman pulling her hand away from him as broad leaves had sprouted from the vines and were covering him. "Aw, fuck," he said. "I was so close."

Hyla turned back towards the men who were approaching her with a touch more trepidation. The rat had stepped aside to allow some of his compatriots in. These were far more experienced and had no qualms about stepping right up to the slave and manhandling her. Hyla could also tell their individual styles from their touches. One focused much more on her breast and her nipples especially, while another ran claws through her fur until he got close to but did not quite arrive at her sex. She wondered if these were their own personal preferences or the way they had learned to please their partners.

But the combination of assaults had its desired effect. Hyla found herself shifting from left to right, taking deeper breaths and rolling her hips in need. The bonds were just flexible enough to allow a little shift without allowing her to free herself. But shortly before the point she would have climaxed, the vines moved, quick and sudden, to push the others away and encase her entire torso in an impenetrable barrier of leaves, ceasing all movement.

Or almost all.

Two tiny little tendrils of vines kept teasing on either side of her clit, holding her on the edge of orgasm without tipping her over.

Hyla knew she was supposed to stay bound, even though if she really forced herself to she could break free. But the teasing on her clit was too much. Her legs shook and her arms strained to move to the front of her body. The plants around her creaked and threatened to break before she finally regained control of herself.

Slowly she cooled down and felt the leaves recede to give access to her body again. She panted at the group of young men who had taken a step back as she had strained against the bonds. She met their gazes and grinned wildly. "That all you got?"

They all looked at one another and then almost bowled one another over in an effort to get back to her side the fastest.

* * *

High above the party, the coyote stood alone on a balcony. Servants had tried to offer him a bite to eat or many different drinks, but he had refused it all. He made no effort to mix and mingle, preferring to watch the festivities below dispassionately. Despite all the wealth and status the coyote now had, such an ostentatious show of wealth still made his fur itch.

"There are easier ways to speak with me directly than to have me throw an entire ball as cover." The witch appeared from the shadows on the far side of the balcony. The raccoon carried a flute of wine and there was a scornful mirth in her eyes.

The coyote did not look up. "Do you think it would have attracted less attention for me to march across town and knock on your door?"

The raccoon tutted with an audible click of her tongue. "Poor Totukepsan. Worried there might be rumors of a secret tryst between channeler and witch?"

"Something like that." His tone remained even. Even his ears fixedly avoided the witch. But his grip on the railing had grown tighter.

The witch watched him and waited. She took several more sips of wine. Finally her tail lashed against the railing and she said, "Out with it. Why are you here?"

"We have come to make a trade."

"No doubt."

"With you."

The witch choked on her wine and sputtered. She had to set the glass down as she regained her breath. "With me?" she repeated, unbelieving. "Totukepsan, of all the audacious... What do you even think you could offer me?" The raccoon's lips held a disdainful curl and her ears a cocksure tilt.

"I do not know," he said with a soft sigh. "But I need your help."

"Help?" She snarled. "Witches do not exist to help the gods."

"I know."

"We exist to keep you in check."

"I know."

"Those are the rules of the Pact."

"I know."

"Your rules."

"I know."

"Which I have upheld faithfully!"

"I know."

"Then why would you expect me to break them now?" The witch hadn't realized how loud she had gotten. She had shouted the question. Thankfully they were too far away from the party for any of the guests to notice, but a servant who was approaching the balcony had heard this and run off in fear. The raccoon sighed and pinched the bridge of her muzzle. His calmness was visibly irritating her, making her fur stand on end.

"Because, Mirada," and as he said the witch's name, he finally turned to look at her, "I need your help."

She raised a finger and opened her mouth for a retort, but her tongue betrayed her and stayed still. She tried again, but still she could not bring herself to be angry. The witch downed the rest of her wine, and then said, under her breath, "Damn you. What do you need?"

He pointed out over the crowd to where his slaves were clustered together, with the Winding Witch's vines around them. "The badger there, one of my slaves. I need you to read her destiny and see if it has been tampered with."

The witch glanced down and saw Hyla straining pleasurably against the vines that held her. A smile crept back into her features as she saw another opportunity to needle the god. "You think someone manipulated her into fighting you?"

The coyote's hackles lifted briefly. Then he smoothed them down with a hand on the back of his neck. "No, I think the manipulation happened far before that."

"But she did fight you, quite successfully from what I heard. In fact, I heard that she managed to nearly shatter you, at least before you pulled out one of your own eyes."

"You are remarkably well informed for someone who was not there."

"You may have been able to adjust the story to fool these people, but not me."

He crossed his arms and returned to looking out over the party. "Will you look at her destiny or not?"

"Are you going to tell me why I should?"

Coyote fingers drummed a tattoo on his arm. "Someone falsified parts of her ownership record."

The Winding Witch laughed. "Is that all? That hardly sounds like something you would concern yourself over, much less me."

"Ordinarily, no. But ordinarily I could tell that the seller was trying to cheat me. In this case, he wasn't. He had no idea the records were faked. Someone has gone to a lot of trouble to hide what they did to her, and they hid it so well even I am not certain what they did." He shifted his arms and absent-mindedly traced the curves of the brand that scarred him.

The raccoon watched his fingers closely. "You wouldn't involve me unless you suspect gods of being involved."

"Or witches."

The Winding Witch gestured into her home. A servant appeared a moment later to replace her empty glass with a fresh one. She waited until the servant was out of earshot to continue. "Very well. I will tell you her destiny, but there will be payment."

"I expect nothing less. What do you want?"

She swirled her new drink and tilted her head first one way then the other. She took her time deciding. "I have to make a trade in the near future, and I'm afraid I need to cheat the other party. I know, I know, you hate that sort of thing, but I need to do it all the same. I'll read her destiny if you look the other way regarding this one infraction on my part."

He narrowed his eyes. "You know I couldn't tell if you had cheated someone."

"Being a witch does have its perks," she said with a smile. "But that doesn't help if you can anyone could work out what I've done, god or not."

The skin of the coyote rippled. Eyes blinked open, but were quickly shut. A few mouths appeared and then disappeared with a gnash of their teeth. "Fine," he said. "I'll overlook it."

The raccoon's eyebrows lifted as though she hadn't expected that response. Still watching him, she reached out over the balcony and called up a flower. It grew, petals forming upon petals until it exploded open in a burst of white light. She turned to stare into the depths of the folding petals. "What exactly am I looking for?"

"It would likely be sometime around the time her twin brother died."

The witch glanced over. The coyote had stepped closer to the flower. "Well, that would explain why this is such a mess." She set her glass down and slapped her hands together, and as she did, the flower collapsed in on itself, petals refolding until only a bud remained. "Badger twins... Looks like one, but is actually two." She carefully untangled her hands from one another, and as she did, the flower reopened; only this time, from the single bud sprouted two separate flowers. As she spread her fingers apart, more and more petals grew out, until with a yelp, she flinched backwards in pain.

The coyote was there, holding her. "Are you all right?"

She yanked her arm out of his grasp. "I'm fine. It's just... unexpectedly intense." She pointed to the flower. One of them had stopped producing petals. All the ones that were present were black and shriveled. "That's where one of them died." She reached over to the other flower and touched one petal. It too turned black. "Pain." She touched another, it turned blue. "Sadness." A third, it turned red. "Rage. Destiny is sharp here. Everything she was led her to her decisions in this moment, and they would affect everything she was after."

"But is there anything unusual about it? Did someone try to alter her destiny?"

She held up a finger for silence. She opened and closed an outstretched hand. Petals unfurled and then folded. She leaned close over the twin flowers, looking for any imperfection. And finally she closed her hands and pulled them in. Both plants faded back into the vines that crawled along the walls.

"Anything?"

She shook her head. "I looked before and after, months in both directions. I don't see anything that suggests someone has deliberately tampered with her destiny. She was always meant to be here."

He sighed, disappointed. "Is there anything in there about a silver wolf?"

"We bargained for a reading of her destiny. Nothing more. Unless you are prepared to pay a steeper price." A mouth formed on the coyote's shoulder and chomped once in her direction. "But," the raccoon continued, "that is something I've heard of before."

"Where?"

The emotion drained out of her as she spoke. This was not the pleasurable face-off of witch and god. This was politics, and therefore boring. "Reports from merchants traveling the northern frontiers. The name or title or whatever it is got mentioned in a discussion of bandit raids. I didn't press any farther, because there's always bandits and there's not infrequently some gimmick to them."

The coyote gestured down to the badger beneath them. "Hyla says she fought and was captured by this silver wolf. When was the last time you heard of bandits taking on badgers and winning?"

"It's happened, but not often, I'll admit."

"Will you make inquiries?"

"Yes." No bargaining, no animosity. If the silver wolf represented a potential threat to Anaros, that took priority over all else. "Anything else?"

The coyote god shook his head.

The Winding Witch lifted her glass and downed half the contents in one swallow. "Totukepsan," she said, her tone formal, "go join the party."

"Why?"

"Because stupid as nobility can be, they listen. And they might know something about this silver wolf of yours. Besides, if you show up and just stand on a balcony all day, that will only make the rumors swirl faster." And with that, she left him.

* * *

The party went deep into the night. Hyla and the other slaves only left after the other guests had filtered out, when the only people still wandering the Winding Witch's garden were the servants cleaning up any messes left behind. The slaves were all exhausted, too exhausted even to care about the fact that none of them had gotten off despite being teased throughout the party. Once in the coach, Hyla found herself collapsing into Marl's fluffy and luxuriant tail as she struggled to keep her eyes open. All of the slaves seemed to feel the same way, and they sprawled out, catching a little sleep in the pre-dawn glow.

When they reached the House of Totukepsan, they shuffled as a sleepy mass up the hill. A few people were out. Shops were opening up, and early-waking visitors were enjoying some streetside cafes. But none of them bothered the slaves. They knew that look in their eyes.

As they crested the top of the hill, Colfor touched Hyla's shoulder. "Stay a moment," he said. He looked tired in a way she had not seen him be before. She guessed that for all his work in helping the House of Totukepsan run, he was unused to all-night partying.

The other slaves gave a wave and headed along the path. Hyla waited a moment and turned around. The coyote was there, just as she had expected him to be. "What did you learn, Master?" she asked.

He shrugged. "She says your destiny has not been altered."

"So we learned nothing."

"No, we learned that either destiny was not involved in your situation, or that she was lying. It's not much," he admitted. "But there is a very short list of those powerful enough to do this to you and this narrows it a little." The coyote stepped to the edge of the walkway and leaned against the railing.

"This list of yours, is she on it?"

"She is. The Winding Witch is certainly powerful enough to shroud you, indeed she could fool even the old gods, but she has no reason to that I can see. Shrouding you breaks the rules of the Pact, and she knows why those rules exist. However, until I have proof she is not involved, yes I am still suspicious of her." He sighed. "She had heard of the silver wolf though."

Hyla was silent, waiting for him to go on.

"Not much, I'm afraid. Stories of bandit raids. Little more. But she'll look into it."

Anger dredged itself up so quickly from the black mass in Hyla's thoughts that it made her wince. "Bandits?" she hissed.

He held up a hand to ward her anger off. "A mistake, or possibly a story misheard as it passes from ear to ear, or possibly a cover story."

Hyla unclenched her hands.

The badger gave a small bow. "Thank you, Master."

He nodded and turned to head back to his temple.

Half-way back to her bed around the impossible girth of the great tree, Hyla caught a glimpse of a familiar face down the hill. Here, between the slave quarters and the promenade of businesses were a series of small gardens terraced into the irregular landscape of the hill. Tending to some climbing vines was Azair. Or at least, it looked like Azair. It was the same vulpine face, the same lustrous gray fur. But she was wearing far more clothes than she had ever seen Azair wear.

Hyla stepped off the path and wandered down to the garden. The fox heard her as she grew near and as she looked up, Hyla could finally make out the fine features to tell that this wasn't her friend. "Oh," she said, "you must be Hyla."

"You know me?"

The woman nodded. "My daughter speaks of you often." She turned and called out, and a second fox stuck his head up from the plants. The woman walked up to him and held his hand, pointing to the badger. "This is Hyla. You remember Azair telling us about her."

The man's eyes seemed to look just past the badger, as though he had trouble seeing her. He said nothing and bent back down to his work.

The woman patted his shoulders and walked back up to the badger. "I'm sorry. Today is not one of his better days."

Hyla nodded. She'd met people who had trouble seeing even that which was in front of them or remembering names and faces. But they were all elders, so old they could barely walk. Not a man barely old enough to be Hyla's father. A flash of remembrance hit Hyla's memory. "Azair told me she was here for protection. Did she mean protection for him?"

The fox crossed her arms. "You are just as blunt as she says. But yes, her trade with the god was to keep him safe."

"You don't approve?"

"I can keep him safe," she said, and Hyla saw the steel in her eyes. Hyla knew that look. Even a trained warrior such as herself knew to be wary: the fox may not have had training or strength, but she had the sheer will to do what was needed at a point where others would hesitate. "Besides, surely you've been able to tell how skilled my daughter is with her tongue."

Hyla lifted an eyebrow.

"Not in that way. I mean with languages." The fox stared wistfully to the side. "All she needs to do is spend a few days and she can pick up a language well enough to converse. And when she speaks, people listen. With skills like that, she should be a diplomat or an adviser to a powerful king. Instead she's here, doing the job I should be doing."

The badger felt a touch defensive of her friend. "You should be proud of her."

The fox sighed. "I can be proud and disappointed at the same time."

"Mama?"

Badger and fox looked up to see Azair standing on the edge of the garden. She rushed in for a hug to her mother, before asking, "How's papa today?"

The sad tilt of the older fox's ears told her all she needed to know. She slipped off without another word and looked for him.

Hyla and Azair's mother stood back and watched Azair. She stepped around to her father and placed a hand on his shoulder, waiting until he noticed her. She waited a very, very long time. And then he only shrugged his shoulder so her hand would fall off. She put it back up again, and another interminable time went by before he looked up and recognized her. They hugged briefly and then he stepped back as if unsure why he had done that. He returned to his gardening.

Azair walked up to her mother, shared another silent hug, and then walked away slowly with Hyla.

The two did not say anything until they were well out of sight of the garden. "Now you know why I'm here."

Hyla nodded. She didn't need Azair to fill in the details. She could guess: in a small town, someone as different as Azair's father would be quickly made into a scapegoat for anything that went wrong. "Is everyone here like us?"

"Some. But everyone has their own reason for joining. Marl's a volunteer."

"A volunteer slave," Hyla said in disbelief.

"Sure." Azair giggled and held out her hands to indicate his size. "With a dick like his and a libido to match, he wanted this type of job, and it's better to trust yourself to the care of a god than a random whorehouse."

Hyla, with a badger's sensibility about gods, was not so sure about that.

"Then there's those who wanted to escape an obligation, or who had really controlling families. By the way, don't ask Zurra about her family, she will just flip you off. What little I've gotten out of her tells me they would have fainted from disgrace from the mere thought of her getting a tattoo."

Hyla smiled a little to herself. Given how much the otter had modified her body, she guessed her family would be unconscious for a week or more.

"Some of us made the trade with Totukepsan for ourselves, or for those near us," she added the last part in a quieter tone as if trying to avoid the idea that she was talking about herself. "Some of us are escaping debts. Some of us were slaves elsewhere and just ended up here. Not everyone has a sad story like you or me. But we're all here just the same. Might as well make the best of it."

Hyla could hear the resolve in her voice, the strength behind it. It was a strength that held others up. Azair had to be strong for her mother. She especially had to be strong for her father. But, Hyla realized, there was no one there to be strong for Azair herself. So Hyla held her hand and did what she could.