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Adventures of Dusty Yote

Chapter 4 - Ways of Binding

7789 words

Up close, Dusty was struck most by the rat's size. If anything, the spyglass and the pictures didn't give him the right perspective of just how massive Reeve was. The rat stood perhaps slightly taller than Bernard the skunk despite being a naturally smaller creature, and sitting down his gut was exposed under the white shirt and made it impossible for him to actually close the leather vest he wore. Up close he also saw it was not oddly put together but simply rather everything in proportion with each other, just at a size much more than a normal rat.

The rat had been in the middle of eating what appeared to be a small meal; the remains of a single potato and a few crumbs of meat were all that was left in a rather standard-sized bowl. He also drank a bit of wine yet showed no signs of inebriation. Instead, Reeve stared at Dusty with an almost calculated air, sizing up the coyote, taking in every fiber of his being. Dusty made no movements towards him, letting the rat take the initiative for now. Though it did not help his case, the rat's face did look handsome, his normal front teeth small by comparison, his eyes appearing full and bright, and his bluish-gray fur well kept and without blemishes.

"What parley should I make with one from the Order?" Reeve said slowly, his voice low though with a hint of scratchiness. "The first one I saw in Whitewater is the first one who put me in jail. The second drove me away and forced me to hide in ruins, away from civilization. And now, what does the third one come to do? Put me to death?"

"Far from it," Dusty said. "I wish to give life where one would take it."

"I assume you have had to attack a few of my guards and compatriots to get here. I do not give out personal invitations to enter. And those who do are always approved by me. How many of those have you killed, who sought shelter with me?"

"None," Dusty replied firmly. "I have only knocked out every one I met. I hit one with the edge of my sword, charged one with my shield, and hit another with a magical beam designed to push rather than cut or rend."

"Nevertheless, they shall need time to recover," Reeve said. "It no longer matters to me. I have yet to kill anyone in my line of work, and yet you displayed more violence than many of my subordinates would do to those I stop. We threaten and warn, not bully and assault."

"I had a feeling a message would not get through should I try to ask your guards directly," Dusty said. "Besides, I implore you hear me out. If I have done this to speak to you directly, then let me be as a harbinger for something far worse, yet a helping hand to rescue before the oncoming storm."

Reeve shifted in his chair and leaned backwards. "You amuse me. You talk calm and yet with haste, with authority but not condescending, and with urgency but without accusation. I give you leave to talk. But the rest of the horde is coming back soon, and I shall be thinking of how to deal with an interloper such as yourself."

"Thank you," Dusty bowed. He then stared into the hard green eyes. "Yes, I come from the Order, and on behalf of the Beast Hunters' Guild. But I am afraid that there is a chain of events that has remained quiet even to you and to your eyes, and that the good people of the Guild have sent me, a representative of the Order, as your last hope."

"This is news to me," Reeve allowed, "but not exactly welcome news. Particularly not from the source giving it."

"I understand. But please, hear me out. You have been placed as a target less because of your actions as a 'beast' than by your actions that led to your thievery. I am here because the guard would wish to pardon you, but the elite in Whitewater that you originally scorned now wish for even greater action to be taken. To the guard, your efforts are of great service. In time, they would have extended the hand of forgiveness. But to those merchants who you have harassed, they would call you a disgrace."

"If you know so much in your Guild," Reeve said, "then you would know it is not I who is disgraced. It is they, who wrongfully accused me. Who, even though I am reduced to that lowest of classes and lowest of professions - as you call it 'thievery' - they wish me to be further exiled. This is not of much news to me. It is spat in my face every time that someone is brought to me, when I question to them why they treat me or those other low-borns with such a lack of dignity."

"If you think 'exile' is what they want, then you have underestimated their hate. I am here because they do not merely want you to go away. They wish you dead. Your mark in the Guild is for execution, and I was sent here to avoid that by any means possible."

At this last statement, Reeve let out a scathing laugh. "You expect me to believe that one of the Order is here to absolve me?" the rat scoffed. "There are members of your Order in Whitewater who would willingly sign the petition for my death. No, I am not here for your false platitudes. The only reason I am letting you stay here right now is that this is news to me, that they now plan for my death, and I may well figure out as much as I can from you whilst I decide how to best punish you for your trespass."

"I am not sent out from Whitewater," Dusty announced, "but from Riverwood. And Riverwood feels indebted to you. As you have caught criminals and set them upon our doorstep, we now find it our job to repay you by making sure that the justice they wish to dispense is not what is given. Though I will say that you may find it of some cruel mercy."

Reeve shifted again, now making to lean forward towards the coyote. He folded his paws in front of him and stared. "If you believe it is 'cruel mercy', then that is the punishment that shall await you. Go on, tell me what they want you to do, and I will determine what is the 'justice' that you shall get in return."

Dusty took a deep breath before looking the rat square in the eye. "The Whitewater merchants wish for blood. I am to cut off your ear to shed that blood, and turn that in as a sign that the corporal punishment they wish for has been administered. I also hopefully will gain a promise from you that you will never rob or plunder another coach traveling from Whitewater to Riverwood. You keep your life, gain the pardon of the guard in Riverwood, but all will know your face and name. And now, name your punishment, and I will take it to them that the Order is not to touch the name or hide of Reeve Thomas on account of this promise, or else Master Dusty Yote will do the same to them!"

Reeve's eyes widened. "That is very much a cruel mercy. But it is no better than exile. Unless the people of Riverwood are open to me trying to live among them, despite being already marked as a beast. I shall not accept. But I will leave a mark upon you. Now, let me ask you something: what is that ring upon your right ring finger?"

Dusty looked at it. It was a small pewter ring, hardly worth anything, but a signet ring with the Order's four-pointed cross-and-star formation on it. The sign of protection and keeping the faith of the Creator. "This is a signet ring, the sign of my Order."

"Then to me, the greatest mark I could leave upon you is the inability to wear the sign of that Order. I will cut off your ring finger on your right hand, and the Order shall spit upon you. For that is the sign they usually give to heretics; and so I will mark you as a heretic."

Dusty held out his hand without flinching. "If that is what you wish, I would give you my ring finger. Let us trade: an eye for an eye, my right finger for your right ear. Then both of us should be satisfied; the Guild will have their blood and will no longer accept your mark for death, and your life will be spared according to your own promise."

"You talk about this as though it is a matter to be bargained!" Reeve shouted. "I don't think you realize exactly what you're talking about, despite having grown up in that Order you speak so highly of! You would abandon your order and throw away your tenants so easily?"

"What does a ring matter if one does not wear their morals in their heart? And if one truly does wear their tenants and beliefs there, then there is no need for a ring to prove one's faith and trust."

Reeve's eyes softened.

"I come not as an instrument of judgment," Dusty said quietly, "but as a lifeline. I was chosen out of all the other Hunters of the Guild exactly for this purpose. I come not for the Order to administer what it thinks is the Creator's will, but to enact the Creator's words of giving others a second chance."

The doors burst open behind Dusty and he could hear the shouts of a dozen or more rats suddenly swarming into the room. He closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable pounce, and perhaps the stings and pricks of weapons being pointed at him or perhaps even some poisons being administered. He waited for the rat to pronounce his doom.

---

"Stop!"

The silence in the room was as thunderous as the word that preceded it. Dusty opened his eyes to find Reeve standing at full height, holding a paw outwards. The rats (all smaller than Dusty by a fair margin but still too numerous to fight against on even ground) were halted around the coyote in a half moon and gave him small berth between them and their weapons. The horde had returned, had likely recovered their damaged cohorts, and heard the conversation within. But at the single command of their leader, the whole of them had frozen and now waited for the next order with baited breath.

Reeve stood and walked towards the cordoned off area of the room. Dusty and the whole of the horde watched as he slowly moved over there - not labored, Dusty noticed, but deliberately slow, as though thinking, trying to draw it out for as long as he possibly could. When he finally reached the veil blocking off the far end of the room, he turned and faced the group. He did not speak right away, but took a few deep breaths as he stared at Dusty.

"You speak unlike any member of the Order I've ever met," Reeve said quietly. "One who actually believes their tenants of goodwill and redemption rather than simply saying them for the benefit of others. You keep your finger, for there is naught that I can do to take such devotion and purity away. But if you want my ear, I will make you work for it."

The horde remained still, waiting. "Name your conditions," Dusty said evenly.

"You confessed you knocked out one of my men with what I can assume is a magic spell. To that end, I will bind you with magic, and we shall see how quickly you leave this compound. Do so before I wake - for you must wake early to outsmart a rat - and I will give you my ear. Wait, and I will deposit you at the doorstep of the Order in Riverwood, and you shall have to return to your Guild and let them know of your failure."

Dusty smiled. "It will be a shame to wreck such a handsome face."

Reeve smirked. "We shall see." He turned to the rest of the horde and shouted. "Bind him gently and do not harm him! Feed him and water him, give him a cup of strong wine to drink, then bring him in to see me! I will deal with him personally!"

Two of the rats descended on Dusty immediately. They removed his shield and sword and securely bound his hands behind his back. They took him out of the main hall, out of the main building, and to the courtyard, where they set him down against one of the walls. Evening came, the skies turned golden, and Dusty watched without resistance as the rats began their work of roasting meat and baking potatoes. He half wondered how foolish he had been. But he was calm for some reason, and he awaited his fate at ease with himself.

The sky overhead turned pink and purple before a few of the rats came around to bring Dusty inside. He had been fed and drank somewhat generous portions (more than he had expected for a prisoner) and had been given a goblet full of wine. He was picked up by some of the rats, then led into the main building and over to the hall.

Already Dusty had somewhat guessed what their challenge would be. The food made him feel satiated and the fragrant, strong wine would make him at least slower to respond if not lethargic. They likely expected him to be slower on the uptake or even dulled against whatever sort of magic Reeve was about to pull off. Dusty's primary hope lay in that he would react to it similar as he did to Bernard's and catch them off-guard by being oddly resilient. That is, if Bernard even did anything.

Reeve was talking with a few of the rats as they entered the hall. The moment Dusty entered, however, Reeve looked up from the rats and dismissed them before walking around to where the coyote stood. He walked off without a word, but the rats holding Dusty followed him anyways and they went down to one of the doors off the hallway Dusty had entered.

The room was small and unfurnished. It might have, at one point, been used as a bedroom for the fort or a storage room, but it was small and would serve well as a prison cell. Dusty was brought into the center of the room, then the rats cut off his binds and take off his leather armor, folding it neatly and putting it into a corner and leaving Dusty in a simple tunic and pants. Reeve nodded, though the rats stayed with their daggers pointed at Dusty as though he might try and escape.

Reeve walked two steps into the room. "What do you know of my history?"

"You were accused of thievery and thrown in jail in Whitewater," Dusty said. "After a few times of this, you disappeared for a few years, only to come back as the bandit on the road to Riverwood."

Reeve nodded. "Those few years I was gone, I left to go study magic. There is a school up north that teaches many strange things, and I was privileged to have my own prowess unlocked and to learn from them. Techniques that are unusual to most, but perfectly suited to the purposes of wanting to humiliate others as I have once been humiliated."

From a pocket in his jacket, Reeve brought out what looked like an old cutlass-like blade with a green jewel placed into the hilt. He tapped Dusty's neck with it, then tapped the ceiling, and soon a dark-gray light extended and connected the two before winding its way around Dusty's neck. "Since you're a dog, we need to have you leashed."

Then he tapped the head. It wasn't long before another dark gray light completely enveloped Dusty's head like a hood, formed to his muzzle and even his ears, almost feeling like he could barely speak. "You use magic, and we can't have you summoning this at all, or else the challenge would be too easy."

Then he gently smacked Dusty's back just above the tail. Dusty noticed the slightly harder hit and went to flinch, but found himself suddenly unable to move. His body was forced to move as the rat commanded: his hands behind his back, his tail slightly held out, his legs dangling though his body lay slightly arched and parallel to the ground. What little Dusty was able to turn around saw that he was covered in more of the grayish bonds that leashed him to the ceiling, wrapped tight enough that he could barely move.

"How do you feel?" Reeve asked with a dark grin.

Though Dusty was unsure if he could speak, he figured no harm in trying. "Like I'm about to be used." His own voice felt slightly muffled by the strange black hood over his face. Of his body, the only thing he could feel were outside of the magic bonds were his hands, paws, and tail. Everything else was wrapped in almost as though in leather bonds, not uncomfortable but certainly unable to move more than a few bits in purchase. It also was weird to be dangling like he was, his paws hanging at least a foot off the floor and the rest of him suspended about a foot from the ceiling.

"An unfortunate side effect," Reeve said. "But this is how I am to humiliate you. I have reduced you to nothing but a dog; even without the suspension, you would be only able to kneel and go no further than that leash would let you. If you fail to get out of the bonds in time, this is how you will be sent back to the Order."

"Presumably how you've brought back those you caught," Dusty commented.

Reeve took the cutlass and swiped at Dusty's face with it. It barely hurt him - the muzzle, as strange as it was, did provide a bit of extra padding against the hit - but it did start him spinning around a bit which he found disorienting and stranger still. "Do not start lumping me in with them now." He waited until Dusty had done a few turns before he reached out a hand to stop the coyote's spinning. "Your magic is strange, even to me. I felt bits of it while I was wrapping you up, so I hope you make this challenge interesting."

"Humiliation to the Order aside, what do you plan to do with me if I fail?"

"I might make you my dog for a day or two." The grin that appeared on Reeve's face was greedy now, but even worse was the slightly glassy look in his eyes. "Stuck in the muzzle, crawling around on your paws like your feral ancestors, doing tasks for me for a while before I bring you back. Bring you back here at night and bind you up the same way to sleep before we do it all over again."

It was at this point that Dusty's eyes widened.

"These bonds are not unbreakable," Reeve said, "but for those who don't know magic at all, they can be very complex. You challenge is to break the bonds, find me, and cut my ear off before I wake. You do this, and I will acknowledge you and your oath. Fail, I make you my dog, and send you back to the Order with your digits intact and you in disgrace."

Though the rat continued looking him in the eye, the glassy look became worse as Dusty watched, and soon he could see the dark aura begin to surround the rat much as it had with Bernard. He could feel the bonds tighten a bit then loosen almost as though the rat had contemplated choking him out with the magic, and had to gasp for breath a few times just to make sure his chest was alright.

"I would advise against it for your health," Dusty said. "The Guild is trying to not think of you as a beast. It may if you go this route; no matter what I say to them, your own self will be too irrevocably altered to go back."

Reeve smacked him again, harder this time, and set the coyote spinning around on his leash again. "You're starting to sound as preachy as the other Order members. I shall not consider your offer at all if we keep going back-and-forth like this."

Dusty was about to make a comment about the last time he encountered a similar effect, someone had tried to kill him, but he shut his mouth. He eventually slowed down enough to see the rat's face clearly again, still glassy-eyed but now with weird gold lines around his face.

"We shall see where you are in the morning, Master Yote," he said. "Until then, good night... and good luck." He chuckled as he left, the rats following him out and shutting the door behind him.

Dusty Yote was alone.

---

The first thing Dusty did was check his sensations. He was very tightly pinned and could barely move. It was less the feeling of some cloth or material around him than it was a very restrictive magical cocoon. There were also distinct sections that seemed to be cordoned off into their own areas; the strange hood around his face was different from the leash that extended into the ceiling, and the body was different from both of them.

The coyote felt awkward in his position. He was at least a few inches off the ground where his paws were, dangling down below the rest of his body. His tail was maneuvered just slightly away from his behind, and his body was mostly perpendicular to the legs. His back was very slightly arched and his head sat slightly higher than the rest, and by some component of the leash he couldn't bring it down too far though he did still have room to look around. Nothing felt abrasive, and indeed nothing was uncomfortable, though he did not like being bound so tight.

Outside the room he could hear rats taking flint and steel and igniting something. He at first wondered if they were going to burn him alive, but he heard the sound of a torch being set into a sconce and felt better. They must have been making the nightly rounds.

Next he examined himself physically. He was no longer feeling sick and he actually was quite comfortable. Helping matters was that the air was relatively still in here, being somewhat cold but not moving. His paws occasionally felt a gust of wind that may have come from underneath the door, but even then it barely tickled the fur down there. The bonds, though having the appearance of leather, did not make him feel warmer like he was in his armor.

His first instinct, on making sure he was alright, was to try and let loose a shock-wave. He didn't need that much purchase to let one go and at least had enough movement of his legs that a simple one wouldn't take much momentum. He began to gently rock his legs, pushed forwards, pulled backwards, and then sent his legs forward with a flying heave as he pushed his magic up as high as it could go.

Nothing happened. Moreover, though he still had his circlet on and could feel it welling up with magic, there was something around his head that was blocking it from coming out. He tried again and again, though after the third time he felt himself beginning to spin again and stopped trying. It was no use anyways; the magic would push up to the circlet and then find itself fully blocked by an unseen wall that wouldn't let it out no matter how hard Dusty tried.

How strange! Dusty thought to himself. Everything else I've heard about has been magic-draining, and yet here I have all my magic and can't use a thing! But what sort of spell could do something like this?

A laugh came from outside of his room. It didn't sound like Reeve's laugh, probably just a couple of the other rats who were in, maybe heard his grunting and struggling and found themselves amused by the punishment. He heard their footsteps walk up to the main hall and the outside went quiet again.

It may still be worth it to ask the rat should he get out of this. But that led him to the reminder that the rat was showing signs of corruption. Less important than where it came from was getting out of here before the rat could enact any more of his designs on him. He certainly didn't want to be degraded and treated like a common feral, that much was for sure. But he had to get out of the binds.

Methodically, Dusty spent a little bit of time wiggling each section of his body to see if he could do anything. He reasoned if they were shaped like leather straps, there must be some way they would work similar to leather. But every time he came up simply against a strong magical force that prevented him from actually moving anything. So he tried wiggling and seeing if anything would loosen up a little just by simple resistance.

Not much happened. Dusty was unsure if anything moved any further at all, and the only movement he got was a slight swaying from the leash, which held on as tight as ever.

There was a grunt and a slam from somewhere on the other side of the left wall. Two footsteps came back down the hall at a little faster pace than they originally went up it. Dusty hoped that neither of them had come across a corrupted Reeve and suddenly found themselves lashed at.

His movements pinned to a small area, his magic blocked at every turn even when used with the only exposed portion of his body, Dusty was at a loss. He needed to do something, but there wasn't much he could think of. He recognized his own body getting heavy from the food and the wine he was given. He let his eyes close and felt himself growing tired. With no way to counter or work off the energy, there wasn't much he could do to get it out of his system. He trusted himself to wake up in time to think things through.

Dusty languished into a sort of half-sleep. For a long while he was unsure of the passage of time. Aside from the gentle crackling of the torch outside his room he heard nothing. No guard wandered past his room, no door opened or closed to check on him, and no voice could be heard even talking to some other rat. After a while, the only thing he could smell was Reeve's faint scent, the general smell of rat fading into the background and a slightly more clean tone that may have wafted from the main room the only distinctive thing that separated itself.

He was unsure of when or even why he came up with the idea. In essence, he decided to utilize a series of miniature shock-waves, so low pulse they would barely move a twig on the ground, to test the boundaries and capabilities of his magical bonds. Centralizing the shock-waves at the points he could wiggle, he gently tested the magical bonds just to see what they were made of.

Curiously enough, he did get a slightly different feel both from his own magic and from each other, meaning Reeve's were a new kind of magic he didn't know about. He tested the leash, the hood, and one part of his body-bind again and concluded they were all of similar styles, which meant three different spells were cast. From the way his shock-wave spells were muted, most of them probably held similar properties, which meant all three belonged to the same style of magic.

This was something. Perhaps, if they were related, if he could break one he could more easily break the others by applying similar techniques. There was one problem: he didn't know what it was - it was all foreign to him, something he had barely felt.

...something that only appeared with Bernard.

His mind raced. Bernard's magic had a similar feel as this binding did. Perhaps they were of the same origin. But one does not simply hold their breath and hope a face-masking hood goes away. Perhaps it got stronger under the effects of corruption, which is why it had slowed Dusty down originally but weakened with the last-minute use that Bernard had used to knock him out; it had only kept him down for an hour or so at most.

This brought him back to his original problem: if Reeve was corrupted, the magic was stronger and it would be more difficult for him to get out. He would very easily win this challenge, keep Dusty around to humiliate him, and likely be unable to break the pardon. And for some reason, Dusty was less humiliated at the thought of being degraded by the rat than he was at failing to make the pardon a viable option.

He thought of his entrance to the Hunters' Guild, how the Order had let him apply when he stated his primary objective was to find a new way of cleansing the beasts that didn't require as much bloodshed. How he came back and found Brother Thomas pleased at his arrival, at his acceptance, the gift he had brought him...

...the Restoration spell. If he could break the bonds and get out, he might be able to apply the spell to Reeve. Brother Thomas had hinted it might be able to reverse the corruption. The big rat had shown no signs of it when he was there, maybe he could apply it before it could get too much worse and cure him of it. If nothing else, it was worth a shot.

The Restoration spell also was said to have many uses. Maybe, since Reeve was showing signs of corruption when he was applying the bonds to Dusty, he could use it to reverse it by purifying the magic. Dusty tried calling up his magic and found it welling up in his hands and blocked off still. No, that wasn't worth it, that meant he had to touch Reeve in order to actually get it to work...

...but the magic wanted to spread further once it had gotten to his hands.

Dusty tested more magic into his paws. It started coming up his arms, up through his chest, and up to his head. He could feel his circlet brimming with magical energy as it continued spreading throughout his body. Almost there... almost able to go and try and restore Reeve from his corruption and earn that pardon...

There was a sudden SNAP! from somewhere above him; he felt the leash around his neck splinter and soon his paws were touching the ground. His arms came next, just in time to cushion his fall, his chest slamming and the body bind vanishing into dust. His head came last, a relatively gentle knock on the floor, and suddenly the hood over his face fell off almost in a single cohesive chunk before melting away into the floor.

---

The shock of the fall dazed Dusty and it took him a few moments to recover from it. At first he was afraid of having broken something from how he had been strung up, but he quickly tested himself and found nothing seemed sore except for his chest and even that was mild. He felt the magic pulse he had summoned up slowly ebb away, and lay there for a few moments, panting with the effort.

For a while longer he let his ears and his nose do most of the surveying. It was still quiet and he could hear the gentle crackling of the torch outside his room. It was slower and less intense now, and he figured it may have almost been burnt out. The ground was cold and he could feel the slight breeze through the underside of the door but not enough to make him shiver. He smelled and could still make out Reeve's vague scent in the distance.

He had no idea how long he had been tied up. He quietly rose to his feet and looked around. His leather armor of the Order was undisturbed and he quickly put it back on; he would have to figure out where his sword and shield were later. He tested the knob of the door and found it was open and slowly pulled it. The door was well-oiled and barely squeaked as he swung it inwards and peered into the corridor of the fort.

No guards. Either they had dedicated rooms or they were all waiting somewhere for him.

It was enough of a chance. Dusty quickly followed the scent of Reeve and found it led back into the main hall. He opened the doors and realized it must have been coming off from the draped-off section at the back end - Reeve's personal area. He crossed the room and slipped behind the curtain and began to scan the room.

Despite the wealth of his jewelry (which he had worn to bed), Reeve's personal area was quite simple. The big rat himself lay in a simple bed similar to the one Dusty had in his own room. There was a small wardrobe made of common oak, with a desk and end-table made almost of the same. The wardrobe was slightly cracked ajar and had various clothes similar to the jacket and pants he had worn the day before. The small desk had an inkwell and a quill pen and some small lead pencils on it. The end table had nothing on top, but it did have a small drawer.

The coyote turned to the end table and, carefully as he could, opened the drawer. His search efforts were rewarded: there lay a common dagger. He grabbed it and pulled it out, then turned to the rat to survey and make sure he would be alright.

Reeve's breaths were even and slow and he seemed barely perturbed by the new scent in the room. He lay on his back, face tilted out from the wall, with one arm over his belly and another behind his head. He moved rather little, but Dusty guessed from how deep the breathing sounded that he was quite deep asleep. A faint dark aura surrounded him, lower than the previous night but still obviously tainted by corruption.

Dusty clenched the dagger in his paw and looked at the face. Once again, the proportions were oddly pleasing to the coyote, with a slightly thicker muzzle and a well-structured frame. His front buck tooth was almost entirely hidden and his fur was neatly groomed. Not only that, but compared to the hard gaze he had given Dusty most of the previous day, he now looked soft and calm, the beginnings of a grin on his face. If he were to run up and greet Dusty with that face, the coyote would almost treat him like an old friend.

Dusty became rackingly sick. Even with the rat showing signs of corruption, he couldn't do it. He suddenly understood why Reeve had refused to have his ear cut off. Not only would it mar the handsome face, it would be a visible wound. No one would be able to look at him the same if he had shown such damage in apparent combat, and it would ruin the highwayman looks and reputation he had gained. He would be reduced to no more than a common thug, and perhaps even those who he considered loyal may abandon him if he was revealed to be no longer invincible. Threatening to cut off Dusty's finger was the closest analogue to what Reeve himself would experience.

He had been warned about this by the Order when he went to sign up to become a Beast Hunter. It was viewed as a noble profession, but they said he would face things that would challenge him and his tenants. Well, here was a challenge right now: to obey his mission and cut off Reeve's ear only to feel the guild of undoing a life that even the guard admitted had helped them in some way? Or to disobey and simply leave, but without bringing the rat to the consequences of his actions? There had to be something better...

There was, but not by much. Dusty remembered that Radan had mentioned both the ear or the tail. He could cut off a piece of the tip and be alright. The wound would be easier to hide, wouldn't damage the reputation, and Dusty would get what he came for. There was still something in the taking of it by force and deceit that the coyote did not like, but that was the only option without Reeve giving him away.

The coyote needed to act fast. The tail drooped over the side of the bed frame, exposed, and he cut off the very end of the top. It was still quite long even with the segment he'd cut off, and he managed to cut at an angle so that it merely appeared like it was a few inches shorter. But the moment he saw blood slowly drip from the slash Dusty was sickened again. This was not what he'd signed up with the Order for. The blood was fine, but the damage and deception were terrifying to him, and he was struck with both immense guilt and sympathy.

He bent down, remembering the healing spell that Brother Thomas had given him, and clasped the end of the rat's tail in his paw. A golden light momentarily shone from his paw, and then he opened to inspect the wound to see how well it had smoothed over. What he found was not only the newly modified tail, but the end even looked like it was supposed to be smaller.

That was it. He'd got his tail. Now to find his missing equipment and get out. But Dusty felt no satisfaction with what he had done. He looked at the rat again, still sleeping as though nothing had happened, and felt very depressed. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

Reeve remained asleep.

The coyote set the blood-stained dagger on the end table and pulled back the cloth. He left the main hall and checked the doors on either side of the entrance. To the left held food storage, to the right held weapons. He was able to pick his shield easily enough, and the sword in scabbard rested just underneath it. He picked them up and inspected them, finding no nicks or dented portions on them, and left the main building by the double doors.

---

It was barely light outside. In the west was dark and cold still, almost black, while the east had the first light of day. Not even gold, but still a cool blue that was merely lighter than the rest. No one was in the compound and he wondered how many of the rats were even awake at this time. At the front of the fortress was the gate, as well as a crank in the entry hole to open and close it. Dusty started walking towards the crank; in one hand he held his shield, in the other the small piece of the rat's tail.

"Master Yote."

Dusty stopped. Not out of fear or surprise, just simply because it felt like the polite thing to do, and he didn't feel much like running. He turned his head around and noticed Reeve standing there at the closed entrance of the building. The rat looked tired and grim, but neither angry nor as menacing as he had before. He walked closer until he and Dusty were standing only a few feet apart. Yet despite his size, how he towered over the coyote, Dusty felt no corrupted menace anymore and he looked quite small and hunched over.

Reeve looked towards the morning light. "Seven hours, I think," he said. "A new record. And yet, much as I suspected, you broke the bonds with your own magic even though I had muzzled you. As though it was not much for you at all."

"To be honest, I quite nearly couldn't remove it. It was not for me that I left."

"And yet you mastered it from within, something else that many others even of your Order cannot claim to do." Reeve sighed. "I could have guessed. Many others would have succumbed themselves to despair or let it take a greater hold on them than it should have. And yet, with you, it felt like you were already bursting at the seams trying to get out. You have proven yourself more worthy of that Order than ten others of your rank."

Dusty blinked and turned fully to face the rat. "I beg your pardon?"

"Based on my past experiences with the Order, I quite expected to be dead if you woke up earlier than I did. So I strengthened my magics and placed multiple binding points so that it would be harder for you to escape and easier for me to win our little game."

"It failed, as you can well see. But you talk as if you have not won yet, though I remain here in your fort. I was significantly delayed by the disorientation and surprise at the spell-work, and you have awoken to find me before I could escape."

"I was surprised to wake up and see you gone. I saw the bloody dagger on my nightstand thought 'the bastard has managed to get away with it'. And yet, when I went up to touch my head, I noticed my ears were still there. And, much like most of our encounter has gone, the change in my tail was so subtle I didn't notice it at first." Reeve motioned to the bit of tail hanging from Dusty's hand. "But there it is, the remainder of the length. And then the front door opened."

Had he really taken that long? Maybe. "There are two ways that a person can be slowed down. One is from a lack of energy. The other is from mental strain. Mine was from the latter; even though I had satisfied my mission requirements, I did not like what I had done. Mired by guilt, I suppose at that point I didn't care whether I left or stayed. I would have done something dishonorable either way."

"No." Reeve shook his head. "Not by a long shot. By cutting my tail and staying to heal it, you did the most honorable thing you could do in a tough situation. You showed me that I had put my feet to the fire - with the corruption, in more ways than one - and was about to get burned. Instead of the cruel mercy that I had expected, I was given something to which I could hide or disguise the change. You appeased your boss and showed me where I'd gone wrong; I kept my life, my reputation, and most importantly my sanity. And that is more than a fair trade."

"You do not have to keep my end of the bargain. I merely came with an offer, and it is your choice to accept it as you will."

"Then I will accept and honor it, because I have lost. You won our little game, Master Yote. For if I were to catch you and do it all again as I had planned to do, I would be no better than the beast the Guild claims me to be, for I would have taken the envoy of a second chance and spat in its face. I have overstepped my bounds, and will pick and choose my targets more carefully from now on. You are free to go."

Reeve turned around and began to head back towards the main building.

"...Master Reeve."

It was the rat's turn to face the coyote with an arched eyebrow.

"If you are still willing to take it up," Dusty said, "the Riverwood guard is willing to give your pardon. And I will go as witness and ambassador."

Reeve's face softened. "I don't think I will. Not any time soon. But I will say this: I will never let my horde touch you in anger or in dark designs. You are free to come and go as you please, should you wish, and any who may accompany you so long as you bring them here in peace."

Dusty smiled. "Your words are as noble as your face. I only wish I'd seen them both earlier, or else I might not have gotten myself in this mess."

Reeve smiled back with a laugh that Dusty was sure was meant to be derisive but came out as trying to hide his pride. "Are members of the Order so commonly prone to flattery? Nevertheless, I will remember that the next time you come by... should you decide to play this little game again."

Dusty was very thankful he was covered in darker fur or else his flustered cheeks might have been seen by the big rat. He had not entirely meant it that way (only that Reeve had spoken well), and turned around back to the gate to hide his own surprise.

He turned the crank around and quickly lifted the metal gate. He had scarcely stepped out when he noticed one of the rats come up and close the gate behind him. But the rat made no form of alarm as to his leaving, and even in the brightening dawn, no one seemed to care about the coyote walking away. He had won, he had survived, he had completed his mission, and surprisingly he might have found himself an ally.

And if all beasts were this way... well, he might be paying another visit to Reeve rather sooner than he expected.