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Hijinx Fantasy Presents: Vicki the Sorceress and the Swamp Men of Mictlan Chapter 1: Wherein Vicki Battles Desert Cultists and Enjoys a Cup of Tea by Noir

The damp stone walls glistened from the candlelight of a hundred candles, and the dampness that in the desert could only be found in the cool, deep underground. their flames surrounded a defiled altar stained darkly from past sacrifices under the hollowed, watchful gaze of the golden hawk-head of Mentu mounted on the wall. The mask of the foul god's beak was dark with the same dried stains that marked the altar. A half-dozen shrouded figures surrounded the morbid tableau, their heads bowed and their hands hidden in the folds of their long sleeves. Shackled to the altar with black chains was a tiger just entering manhood, his powerful form hidden only by the loincloth around his waist, his long black hair spilling around his shoulders and across the altar. His only decoration was a gold medallion hanging around his neck across the cream fur of his chest, marking him as the crown prince Hakesh, heir to the merchant Caliphate of Bukhara.

"Fiends!" the tiger snarled, "My father the Sultan will make you pay for this!"

The robed cultists ignored him, their voices lowly filling the room in an ominous ritual chant. From the dark shadows underneath the golden head of their warlike god, another figure emerged: the high priest. From the waist down, billowing skirts hid his legs. From the neck up, a carved representation of a hawk's head rested on his shoulders and hid his face. From his waist to his neck was nothing but brightly colored red paint or blood decorating the hyena's mottled fur. He stood above the bound tiger prince and raised a wavy-bladed kris knife, a hollow voice emerging from the hawk-mask, and the chanting of the half-circle of cultists rose to a crescendo.

"By Athena, stop this madness!" cried a woman's ringing voice. A dark, full, feminine form stood silhouetted against the night sky at the stone entrance to the underground temple, looking down the stairs onto the stark setting. Her slender form was sweet to the eye, with curves in all the right places and elegantly patterned with fur of ebony and of ivory covered only partly by silken garb, but no sweet innocent was this. Her stance was fierce and challenging, and sensual, one hip cocked to the side, her weight resting easily down through one leg. A lush tail curled up behind her, most of it taken up by thick, white stripes against the black fur, the elegant pattern marked by the soft glow came from the two miniature crossbows she held, one in each hand. The bolt at her right hand flickered with the crisp flame of a campfire, contained within the narrow confines of the tiny weapon, while the bolt at her left sparked like a tiny captured arc of lightning. Between the light of the full moon behind her and only a faint touch of color from the elemental weapons in her hands, the silken fabrics of her skirts and top were practically useless at anything but creating a faint outline around the perfect feminine curves. Her voice was strong as she declared her unflinching challenge, "Unchain that man unharmed, or I swear I'll send you to meet your dark god in the afterlife before this night is done!"

Silence filled the room for a few long seconds as the startled cultists stared up at the appearance of the figure in shock. Who was this arrogant woman who so dared violate their secret temple? Then the scarcely-dressed tiger chained to the altar let out a cry of delight as he recognized the heroine of a dozen realms and more. "Vicki!"

"The sorceress!" snarled the cult leader lowly, then raised his voice to shout, "Kill her! A bag of gold and Mentu's blessing to the man who strikes her dead!"

The resonant hiss of metal against sheath rasped through the room as the cultists drew the cruel daggers at their sides, letting out shouts of greed and anger as they charged the sorceress skunk as one. Unconcerned, Vicki raised both mini-crossbows and fired, the elementally charged bolts flying down the broad stairwell. The flaming bolt missed the first man, singing a burnt hole in his hood as he charged up towards her, but lodged into the chest of the man just behind him, sizzling harshly and drawing a gasp of pain from the dark kidnapper. The crackling bolt of lightning flew true, lodging into a leading cultist's eye, dropping the cultist to the floor bouncing and grunting through gritted teeth as electricity jolted directly into his brain, instantly dead even while his body remained twitching helplessly. The acrid stench of scorched flesh filled the air.

The process was a simple one, and Vicki had performed it so many times that it was without thinking, an extension of herself, with no more effort than twitching a finger. Gathering a tiny amount of her will and power about her, a swelling energy fluctuating through her aura, she focused it through her arms and palms and into the elemental shards embedded in the hilts of the mini-crossbows. Instantly, the weapons reloaded themselves, fire and lightning leaping up where just they had leaped out. The first two bolts were followed by two more, and two more after that, as Vicki calmly unloaded shot after shot at the charging cultists, the dark stairway lit by tiny flames and crackling discharges, a small smirk upon her lips as she considered the scene, the fiends rushing up the stairs. Her blood sang with the rush of battle, the threat of death.

The first four cultists dropped easily, but the last two were fortunate enough to have been the last in line, and thus knew the threat she presented. Their faces showed their nervousness, but they feared their dark god far more than they feared one little skunk, even if they saw their fellows felled so easily. As their cult leader cried epithets behind them, they caught up the falling bodies of their comrades to use as meat shields. Vicki's smirk widened as she saw the last two would not fall quite so easily. She crossed her charged weapons across her ample chest, took two steps forward, and leapt. Her feet planted firmly on the chests of the dead cultists and the lean muscles of her athletic legs flexed, lifting her into the air. Tendrils of glowing emerald-green energy thrust from her feet as she leapt, wisps of mist colored by her magic. The gusts of air lifted her further than she could otherwise jump, sending a mystic wind rushing up and down the stairwell as she turned in a flip over the surprised cultists with a smooth, practiced grace, floating through the air like a gently drifting cloud.

The two mini-crossbows discharged in mid-air, their bolts flying true and prompting snarling cries of pain from the darkly cloaked men, and then Vicki was landing, facing the head priest, dropping to one knee on the floor. In the light, the fitted silk outfit shone across the red spectrum, from brightest red to deep maroon. Her long skirts were slit up the side, showing long, athletic legs, the skirts linked at her hip only by two small golden rings. Her full, womanly bosom was presented invitingly by her snug halter top, the outfit of the finest Tianese silks. A belt of gold mesh hung loose over her hips, and from it hung a silvery rod capped with a clear gem in a gold setting. From her shoulders to the golden bracelets at her wrists were sleeves of loose, flowing red gauze, and her long white hair flowed about her shoulders untamed and alive as she gathered her will.

Her enchanted weapons flickered brightly for one last time as she blindly fired shots towards the two wounded cultists now behind her, hitting them both and dropping them, groaning, to the floor - not yet dead, but out of the fight for sure. Calmly, content that the lesser cultists were all taken care of, she stretched her arms to the side and dropped the mini-crossbows, looking up to smile coldly at the head cultist. She knew that such minor weapons wouldn't suffice against him. His aura seethed with dark magic, ready to use. She saw the tendrils around him, with her sorceress' sight, ready to catch and turn away such weak magics as the crossbows. They'd be no more effective than a child's plaything against him.

"Arrogant Witch!" snarled the Hyena, pulling off the hawk-mask and casting it aside. His eyes blazed with insane fury. "The Brotherhood of Mentu shall not abide this interference! You'll not find me such easy prey, and you will regret your impertinence over the centuries of agony after I rip out your soul and feed it to my god piece by piece!" The Black tendrils around him thickened, swelled, becoming visible to anyone who could have watched, and not just her own special eyesight. Like her own hair, his fur rippled as he gathered his will, making the patterns painted across his chest seem to writhe like snakes.

Vicki didn't wait for him to finish. She grabbed the rod at her hip and lifted it, sending her power through the elemental gems hidden inside its length, larger and more powerful than the shards in her crossbows. Her own will swelled within her, energy filling her, the strength of a sorceress, the power to bend reality to her will. Like a lens, her mind drew that will down to focus into her rod, into the fire gem and the water gem. A single sphere of water hurtled from the tip of her rod, mist surrounding the blast as the fire gem drew the heat out of it all the while, leaving a white trail marking the freezing sphere's passing. The foul priest, ready for her, gestured negligently and one of the shadowy tendrils surrounding him flattened and swelled into a shield, deflecting the blast to the side where it hit the base of the altar. A sheet of ice, colored the palest of green, spread over the side of the altar and over the floor in front of it. The prince, the tips of his fur frosting over from the nearest to the magical attack, let out a startled shout and a faint wail, his tail frizzing as he shivered at the sudden chill.

Vicki cursed under her breath. She was easily more powerful than the high priest, but she was going to have to hold back a little more, or she was going to kill the blasted fool of a tiger before she could rescue him. She didn't have much time to dwell on that as the high priest slammed his palm against the ground. "Cute attack," he laughed mockingly, his high-pitched giggles raising the fur on the back of her neck, setting a creeping tingle to her flesh like spiders crawling along her shoulders. "Try mine!" Black ice fairly flew across the floor from his hand, and Vicki leapt up to avoid it before it could reach her feet, calling upon threads of air to lift her gracefully upwards, away from the ice. The frozen black flood flowed over the wounded and groaning cultists at the base of the stair, the sharp shock of the cold temporarily making them arch in pain before killing them, their icy bodies becoming dead statues of agony. She was especially glad that she had given herself that extra height as black spears of ice suddenly erupted from the slick of ice, one of them nearly skewering her leg as it tore through her flowing silk skirt. Bright red droplets lifted into the air next to her, but Vicki had no time to pay attention to such a minor scratch as that.

"Hey!" Vicki cried in anger, her will already at work to bath the dark, icy spears below her with a lance of bright green flame, clearing a safe spot for her to land and causing the ice to melt and evaporate into an inky black mist. "I really liked this outfit!" She set a swirling shield of air around her to keep the demon-laced mist from her lungs, then gathered up more air and cast again, sending out nearly invisible clenched fists flying through the intervening distance to strike towards the high priest. The streams of air tore gaping rents through the black mist, and let her see the scene as the sorcerous cultist lifted up a wall of solid stone from the floor below to block the nearly invisible blows, stumbling backwards from the force of them as the earthen barrier rocked back under the fists of air.

Already preparing a counter-attack, the cultist stepped back and raised one hand, the other seizing the clasp of his belt, revealing the location of his own hidden elemental stones. As his foot settled behind him to steady his reeling from the fierce blow, it landed on the slick patch of ice from Vicki's first attack and flew from under him. With a surprised expression, the vulgar hyena fell backwards to strike the back of his skull on the edge of the altar with a sudden spray of bright red blood and a sickening wet noise like a breaking melon.

Vicki paused, not quite believing the fight was over already. She waited for a few long, pregnant moments, expecting the zealous priest to suddenly rise and smite at her with foul demonic power once again, but his crumpled corpse just lay there with a gleaming pool of crimson blood spreading from his fractured skull.

"Weak!" cried another feminine voice. "That was totally anticlimactic! You were just supposed to keep him distracted so I could stab him in the kidney!" Sara stepped from the shadows, her soft black clothes disappearing against the black-stained stone of the walls, making her look like a collection of floating and disembodied body parts. The billowing black pants, snug black halter-top, and loose black vest hugged close to the fennec's slim and boyish form just gently curved by her small breasts and girlish hips. Vicki knew that deep scarlet embroidery patterning the soft, unrestrictive clothes, unseen in the dark, would draw the eye to all Sara's most pleasant parts in strong light. The sandy fur that the outfit showed was darkened with black sand, letting Sara hide more easily in the shadows of the hidden temple.

Most of the candles of inky wax had been blown out by the winds Vicki had summoned up, so she focused enough of her will to call up a small, brightly burning ball of green-tinted white flame and sent it up to the ceiling to light the place. With strong light, the unholy temple lost a lot of its creepiness. Even the giant gold hawk-head on the wall seemed more gaudy than threatening, and Sara looked less like a ghostly vision and more like the roguish minx she was.

Leaving Sara and her nimble fingers to spring the locks on the prince's shackles, Vicki turned to set about her own tasks - she could feel the demonic presence all around them, lurking, lingering, even with the cultists defeated. Gathering her will, she lifted her hand and sprayed greenish flames from her palm, easily destroying all the black ice coating the floor, the shards of the frozen spears scattered around the room. As she did so, foul black mists rose up from the floor, the otherworldly energies the high priest had liberally strewn throughout his magic workings. With a little particular set of her mind, Vicki divided her attention between the fires she was raising and a small sphere of swirling air that she used to suck up and contain the tainted mists. She didn't want this demonic mischief getting free and troubling anyone else. It took her only a few short minutes to cleanse the room as well as she could, then seal the small mass of twisting, dark energy into an orb of pure ice. The sphere had just a hint of green to it, the color of her own magic, but deep inside writhed the living mass of the black power, striving uselessly to escape the frozen prison. She considered the frigid sphere for a moment, shifting her grip on it as her fingertips grew numb, then just stuffed it into the beak of the golden head on the wall, to be kept safe till a priest of Ra could come by and purify the whole foul temple.

The prince was released long before she was finished, and he lounged lazily against the altar, smiling and talking quietly with Sara. Vicki stepped closer to the altar. "Prince Hakesh," she sighed resignedly, "This is the third time we've rescued you from the Brotherhood. You have three wives, isn't it about time you started siring an heir so that you're no longer target to their prophecies?"

"Ah!" cried Hakesh, "I have but been awaiting the right woman! That time has come, for certain, as the right woman has come to again rescue me from my captors!"

Vicki repeated that resigned sigh. it seemed that every third nobleman and knight that she rescued of late had asked her hand in marriage. Not that she minded the passionate and intimate gratitudes that they exchanged long into the night after being rescued, but why did they all think that after heading out into the world, traveling far and wide, and seeking out grand adventure culminating in their rescue, that she wanted to settle down and start raising children? "You think that I'm the right woman for you?" she asked, a little disbelievingly. "M'lord, the Princess Asanna is renowned across a dozen realms for her beauty, wisdom, and gentle charm! How could I possibly hold a candle to her?" Personally, she thought Asanna was a wilting flower and more than a little dense, but she didn't want to encourage Hakesh nor insult his first wife.

"Oh, no!" Hakesh assured Vicki. "Though of course any man would be honored to take you to wife, I fear you have mistaken me!" Vicki started to get a bit of a clue as she saw Sara blushing softly, and glanced down to see Sara's hands playing lightly over Hakesh's thick, striped tail. "I am pleased to let you know," Hakesh went on, "That I have asked the spirited and skilled Lady Sara for her hand in marriage, and she has consented!"

Vicki managed to keep from laughing at the announcement, murmuring polite pleasantries and congratulations. She kept quiet even as the prince complained that the secret temple was hidden underneath a common, everyday bakery, only allowing herself a couple comments about how secret evil temples aren't so secret if they advertise it with resplendent facades and large statues of their dark gods. She kept quiet throughout the commotion at the palace, and then it was too late to talk to Sara as the two ladies were led off to separate rooms to be prepared for the night's feasting.

The palace of the Realm of Bukhara was a magnificent work of art. In the middle of the desert, its massive Orb of Water drew the precious fluid from its deep wells, the ancient artifacts coring through to other realms, watery realms, to irrigate the whole city. Nowhere was water so obvious in this artificial oasis as in the regal palace, where grand fountains sent sparkling water high into the air to lay a faint cooling mist over visitors to the gardens, and delicate aqueducts ferried water all around the palace. Graceful curves were everywhere, with barely a straight line in sight, and the surrounding desert just enhanced the beauty of the green wonderland that was the palace gardens.

Graceful serving girls garbed in harem outfits of silk and gauze that left little to the imagination took her ripped and spoiled clothing and led her to the bath, where Vicki flirted outrageously with them. Most of the girls giggled politely to please her, but a few blushed in shy honesty at her teasing comments. She focused on these girls whose ears pinkened so attractively, her flirting more and more outrageous till they were squirming with embarrassment. The squirming was probably faked, but she was sure the interest was genuine.

Teasing led to gentle touches, which led to more, till the time had come and passed for Vicki to have been ready for the feasting, and Sara came into the room to find her lounging languidly and still unclothed in bed between two of the serving girls, who were similarly bare. One was a slim little desert rat, small of breast but with lovely wide hips, her long tail curled lazily around Vicki's ankle. The other was a tiger-striped tabby with a bit more weight to her, and the impressive busom that came with it. Vicki's new silk clothes, neatly folded and perfectly matching to the originals, through some arcane means or incredibly rapid repairs, were left folded on a table nearby, and the clothing of the serving girls was scattered about the floor in a trail from the baths to the pile of soft silken pillows upon the bed.

"Shocked," Sara proclaimed drily. "Absolutely appalled. My sensibilities have been given a mighty blow." She crossed her arms under her breasts and looked at Vicki, one eyebrow raised. "You realize they give us serving girls instead of serving boys because it's supposed to prevent that sort of thing from happening, right?"

The two serving girls scrambled hurriedly from their warm places at Vicki's sides, their faces down-turned as they mumbled apologies to "M'lady." Vicki, though, barely noticed their absence, just staring in awe at the transformation evident in Sara's appearance. Skirts of purest white silk trimmed in gleaming gold flowed about her legs, and two white silk panels criss-crossed over her chest. Billowing white gauze wrapped around her arms and torso, and covered her face. Her giant fennec ears, each as large as her head, were clipped with gold decorations and trimmed with gold chains. An impressive red stone set resplendent in a gold pendant hung around her neck, framed by her modest bosom. The stealthy grace that allowed the fennec in her illicit hobbies to walk along a slack rope or the slickest rooftop translated beautifully into the graceful, almost-dancing step of the courtly woman, the sort of grace that most noble-born ladies trained their whole life to merely imitate. Even claimed by the Prince, Sara was going to be drawing eyes and interest when she was introduced to the court as the prince's fourth fiance. Sara swelled with pride under Vicki's frank and open admiration and surprise. "Surprised how beautiful I am?" Sara chirped happily, holding out her arms and turning around to show off. Gold and rubies glittered on her fingers, and ornamented the length of her already golden-furred foxtail. "You've traveled with me for over a year."

"Actually, more surprised that you can actually look respectable," Vicki laughed. "But if I've been corrupting the innocent serving girls," she continued, ignoring the stifled giggle from a retreating desert rat with the loveliest ass... mmmm... She reminded herself to focus, "I of course, apologize. I'll have to replace them with a proper noble lady like yourself."

Sara threw the nearest small pillow at the lazy skunk, and Vicki raised her hands to fend off the makeshift missile. "Fine," sighed Vicki in a resigned, regretful tone, then stuck out her tongue playfully. "I'll get dressed, then..."

The repaired ... or replacement ... garments fit her perfectly. The Tianese silks felt like a gentle brushing wind as they slid on over her sleek form. She turned before the mirror, admiring herself, and had to admit that she really liked the fashion sense of this realm.

"Sorry," said Sara with amusement, "All out of apples for the fairest, but I'm sure you like your own reflection better than gold fruit anyway."

"Not you, though," Vicki laughed. "So, how long do you think you'll be able to give up the lifestyle before you're found with your fingers in someone else's jewelry box?"

Sara's expression sobered. "Hey, it was kinda partly to make my fortune, y'know? I traveled all over the assorted realms, looking for unattended treasure, only to be given it in my own home realm! I have a chance to really do something, right? Make a difference?"

Vicki smirked knowingly. "You know you did it for the fun," she laughed. "I give this engagement three months before you're on the road again.

Sara smirked lightly at Vicki. "You're just upset cause you're not the only gal with money in the group anymore."

Vicki sniffed, taking on a wounded and proud air while fighting to keep the corners of her mouth from quirking upwards in amusement. "I'm more than just money," she huffed playfully. "There's style, grace, and beauty, too."

The two girls laughed together, then Vicki sighed again. "I'm going to miss you!" she smiled regretfully. "I really was looking forward to showing you my father's estate."

Sara let out a soft, flattered noise. "I'm gonna miss you too, but we can always visit."

Vicki smirked lightly. "Sure you don't want to try me at least once before I leave?"

Sara gasped as if she was shocked, though her eyes were still playful. It was an old joke between them, simply with new words every time. "I am about to be married!" she exclaimed.

"So it's your last chance," Vicki pointed out.

"And there's the whole 'straight' thing," Sara reminded her.

Vicki rolled her eyes. "Ahhh, your loss." Then she became serious again. "Do you think we're ever going to adventure together again?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Vicki explained, "Mariah and Ferra are off building up that manor house they were awarded for services to old Bobby," she said, speaking of King Robert the Third of the Realm of Carriston. "Mariah was talking about family. You're about to settle down, raise kits. It sounds like the adventures are over, and we were barely together for more than two years."

Sara put her hand reassuringly on Vicki's shoulder. "If there's anything I've learned," the tiny fennec said confidently, "It's that life will always take us out of our comfort zone and throw trials and tribulations at us. Sometime in the future, I'm sure my comfortable vacation will be completely destroyed, my life will be in horrible danger, and you'll need to swing to the rescue again."

Vicki smiled gratefully and wistfully to Sara. "Awwww, you're just saying that," she purred happily.

The vixen shook her head in amusement. "Only you would actually find that reassuring," she laughed. "And even if you don't adventure with us, I'm sure your adventures aren't over. You could never sit in one place too long."

With a laugh and a nod, Vicki agreed. "Well, I'll write," she assured Sara, "And we'll keep in touch. See you later, right?"

Sara frowned. "You're not staying for the feast?"

Vicki shook her head. "Your night," she reminded Sara. "If I stay, I'll need to become the center of attention somehow."

Sara laughed lightly. "It'd be just like you to steal the spotlight by finding poison in the food or stopping cultists from taking all the nobles hostage." She hugged Vicki tightly once more. "Be well," she said warmly.

The sun was starting to rise by the time Vicki slipped from the palace, taking the few things she always carried with her and leaving through a servant's door to avoid attention. She circled around the palace to emerge from an alley near the front gates. It was there the palace was most meant to be seen. Beyond the palace was merely the endless desert of the realm, but on this side of the palace was the showiest, most artistic architecture in the whole city.

The front gates were huge, ornately carved from reinforced clay and painted a stark white so the carvings could be seen all the more plainly against the solid metal-bound black wood behind it. The finely crafted doors described graceful abstract curves that suggested towers, clouds, or stars. The large gates never opened except for special ceremonies - people went in and out of the smaller gates to each side, more plainly decorated only in comparison to the main gates. Spilling over the white walls were the verdant, coiling vines of the lush inner gardens, kept shining with dew settled from the fine mist floating overhead from the palace's many jetting fountains.

Rushing out through the huge grated waterway underneath the main gates was the Bukhara Canal. The rush of life-giving water from the palace's main well poured down the middle of the Palace Bazaar, cooling the air of Bukhara's most lavish and luxurious quarter. All water, all life, all prosperity came from the palace. The magnificent shops and fine tents of the merchants of Bukhara, and over the shops, the the homes of the noble families with their small patio gardens would have been a desert paradise unrivaled, except that they were outshone by their presence in the shadow of the verdant palace.

Vicki strolled down the wide walkways to either side of the canal, admiring the slender, arching bridges that periodically crossed over it, enjoying the slow movement of the waking cities. The spicy scent of morning meals started to float over the bazaar, and the occasional movement of noble families taking breakfast while looking out over the canal kept catching Vicki's eye. She walked with a noble grace herself, falling into the regal carriage without having to try, her whole being radiating a confidence that the nobles responded to with polite greetings, and to which Vicki replied to with eloquent graciousness.

Many of the front shop windows started to be unshuttered, the early-rising shopkeepers not really open for business yet, just setting up for the day's work as they ate simpler meat-rolls whose fine spices tingled at Vicki's nose invitingly. To these industrious shopkeepers, Vicki wished a more personal good day, her smile warm and approachable, and the men and women responded with similar warmth.

At the center of the city was the Central Plaza, where the canal emptied into the Grand Fountain. A statue of the legendary hero Aladdin decorated the center of the fountain, the roguishly handsome young desert mouse held aloft by the genie of his ring while he held a simple oil lamp high, water spilling from the lamp into the pool below. Vicki settled into a chair at a tea shop at one corner of the plaza, smiling warmly to the serving boy who brought her the tiny porcelain cup of the thick, syrupy tea, paying a silver dirham for the brew and a spiced meat roll, and slipping him an extra copper fal for himself. Vastly overpriced, but the tea shop knew that its location attracted tourists who would pay the price in order to have a seat for the early morning sights, if for no other reason.

She leaned forward over the small carved wooden table, sipping carefully at the strong tea, the rich flavor singing in her mouth. She looked down at the petite cup in surprise - perhaps it wasn't overpriced, at that! Nearby, someone started coughing and wheezing as he downed the contents of the tiny cup in one go and the fierce drink hit him hard. Vicki smirked with amusement along with the locals as they regarded the tourist's breathless, gasping curses, then she looked back out over the central plaza as the women of Bukhara came with the first rays of the sun to fetch water from the Grand Fountain.

Quietly they came in the warm golden glow of the dawning light, dressed in flowing gowns of white or pale greens and blues, some dresses with long, draping sleeves and others with their arms bared to the shoulder. The gowns were plain, fitting flatteringly to the hips and stomach for slender women, draping from the shoulder in comfortable sweeping skirts for the larger women. Some women had earrings or hair ornaments, necklaces or bracelets, but the one common ornament they all wore was the elegant, embroidered sash draped over their chest. To Vicki they were just decorative, but she knew Sara could read the revealing story woven into each one: Family, graduations from fine schools, their business or that of their husband or father. The intricate sashes displayed the greatest pride of each woman, much like men of other realms would list their titles and accomplishments along with their name during an introduction.

The women, no matter their build or height, how fine or mean their sash, whether they were desert cat, mouse, or fennec fox, moved with an elegant grace from years of practice that turned the simple walk into a vista of artistic movement. On their heads, each casual woman balanced a simple porcelain or ornate ceramic urn as they quietly murmured the latest gossip with each other, enjoying the quiet moment to catch up with the lives and families of their neighbors. In gathering the water, all were equal.

In amongst the women was the occasional young husband, son, or slave boy, dressed in billowing pants in light colors, but usually with their chests bared from the waist up. Unlike the women, the men tended to carry two urns, one on each shoulder, but they moved with the same gentle grace and quiet calm as the women.

Vicki sighed happily at the peaceful beauty in this scene of early morning life. As much as she liked the ostentatious glamor of the palace, this common vista had a charm that sang to her heart. Her sigh of contentment was echoed by the men gathered in the seats around her.

The sighs were replaced by grumbling as the view was blocked briefly by a passing wagon. A thick-furred arctic wolf, far from his home realm, guided the wagon around to block only a couple of tables on one side and hopped down from his seat energetically. He adjusted the absurdly brightly-colored shirt patterned with the flowers and fronds of a wetter clime that hung loosely open in the front as he walked around to the back of the wagon. The patrons of those tables grumbled and moved their chairs, trying to get a view past the vehicle, but the panorama was interrupted in any case, the spell broken.

Vicki sipped the last of her tea, shivering at the even stronger kick of the thicker sludge at the bottom of the cup. She stood up, taking the meat roll and bidding the men sitting around her farewell with a nod none of them saw. The wagon, its rear doors opened, was billowing a cold mist over the stones of the plaza as she walked past it, sending a refreshing shiver up her bared legs. Vicki smiled at the wolf who was hefting a huge block of ice out of the wagon barehanded and he smiled back before carrying it into the shop.

From the Grand Fountain, the Palace Road split into five main roads, each leading to a different exit from the city and continuing out towards the five neighboring realms. The plaza was quite literally the crossroads of trade and commerce that Bukhara was built around. The water of the fountain diverted into countless pipelines and aqueducts, shunting the life-giving water all over the city to smaller plazas and fountains where the morning's scene was mirrored in miniature. The pipes went to public bathhouses and the homes of wealthy nobles and merchants who could afford indoor plumbing.

Vicki took the Mictlan road, named for the realm it led to, and followed it for a short time. The homes along this road were smaller, simpler. The clay bricks making up the houses weren't painted white like the wealthier homes, but retained the soft sandy color of the plaster smoothed over the sides. Wooden support beams protruded from the tops of the flat roofs, and Vicki could hear the voices of families taking breakfast atop those roofs, not yet driven inside by the heat of the day.

The inn she'd arrived at yesterday with Sara was not far, and it was only the work of a few minutes to retrieve their belongings. She directed the innkeeper to bring Sara's horse up to the palace, and made sure to pack Sara's most treasured possessions and trinkets in the saddlebags for her. There would be a few more things she'd probably have to send to her once she got home and could go through the magically more voluminous saddlebags more closely, but Sara would understand. After making certain everything was taken care of, she then continued down the Mictlan road and out of the city. It wasn't far to her father's home - only two more realms and she'd be there. Tonight, she'd be sleeping in her own bed for the first time in years, provided there weren't any more interruptions.