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Hyla Brokenfang had struck a god. The backhand blow had sent the coyote flying off his throne, and then... and then he hung there for a moment in midair, revolving like a leaf caught in an eddy of wind.

The coyote righted himself, still floating, and his eyes opened. Far more eyes than the two he should have. The eyes of Totukepsan opened all over his body, blinking, turning, then staring at her.

At least now he looks at me, Hyla thought. The badger warrior stood her ground against the palpable rage that billowed off the god. His body distorted and flickered and grew and grew and grew, until the coyote was so large he was bent over double even within the massive temple. And still more eyes kept opening and staring at her. The badger felt a moment of unease as she felt that she was being watched by things she could not see, eyes in the walls and ceiling and floor, eyes in the very air itself.

"You should know better," the god said, and it was clearly the god who spoke, voice reverberating in power that shook the stones beneath Hyla. "Many a guest I have entertained here: paupers and princes, merchants and warlords, leaders who conquer by blood and by money and by influence. The most powerful people in the world have come here and all of them--All of them!--have known better than to strike my channeler. Even the most brazen god would not dare. And yet you have. Why?"

"Because badgers fear no gods."

Eyes slid shut. Mouths opened. And they laughed cruelly, before whispering, with the patient purr of a predator about to pounce, "Perhaps you should."

Then the bent-over coyote stood up straight.

It should have been impossible. There was no room left and he was already too tall to fit in the temple. But suddenly there was room. The ceiling of the temple stretched away far into the sky. Space and distance warped. A movement in the corner of her eye made Hyla glance behind her. Azair had barely been a step away a moment ago, and was now so distant she might as well have been on the other side of the city. She could no longer even see the supplicants and temple guards.

"Yes, you should fear me," the god continued as his eyes reopened. "For too long I have indulged you mortals and worn my channeler's face over my own. It is long past time I remind you who I am. I am Totukepsan, he whose eyes see every exchange, he whose barters shape the world. With my trades, I have leveled mountains, drawn islands out of the sea, toppled kings, crushed civilizations, and even made the other gods bow before me."

The coyote, who was now, it seemed to the badger, nearly as large as the great tree, clapped his hands before himself and when he opened them again, it was as though the entire world could be seen in his grasp. Hyla caught flickers of every city, every town, every village, every lone home in the wilderness. Everywhere people where, there was a part of Totukepsan with them.

For a moment, the warrior wondered if she had overstepped herself. Gods were powerful, but constrained by their domain. A god of lightning was helpless in a cavern; a god of fire useless underwater. But Totukepsan, he was the god of fair trades, and there was always a bargain that could be made anywhere, with anyone.

"I know the value of everything from the smallest grain of sand to the greatest mountain. And yet it amuses me to see the value you mortals place on the most insignificant things." Here the great coyote god looked down, his head in the clouds, each fang gleaming like stars. "So go on, Hyla Brokenfang, who carry the name I gave you so generously: beg for your life. I want to hear what you think it is worth."

Hyla was not cowed by the coyote's size. He was only a god after all. "I will do no such thing."

"I see. So not worth much at all then."

Hyla took one step forward and pointed up accusingly. "What kind of a god of fair trades can you be if you would try to cheat me?"

The god paused. His entire body rippled, as though she were looking at an image in a lake, and a stone had just been thrown in. Then he was back, angrier than ever. "You dare accuse ME of cheating?"

"I do not accuse. I state the truth. You made a trade with me so that I would become a slave, and you offered a number of promises to sweeten your trade. You swore they would be honored."

"And I have honored them--"

Hyla's voice was thunderous even in the now mountain-sized temple. "You have not! You swore that you would make sure your channeler would be a good host. And yet, I have learned that you have flaunted tradition and denied me an evening with him." The accusation hit the god like a blow to the face. The coyote staggered backwards, shrinking as he went. "You have barely spoken to me. You do not even look at me. A good host? He has insulted me in the eyes of everyone else in this House. And I would know why the god of fair trades has broken his bargain."

The accusations rained down on the god. Each one sent him tumbling back, his arms raised protectively. When she was done, the coyote stood at his normal height, wobbling on shaky legs and clutching at his ears as if they caused him great pain. All his eyes were wrenched tightly shut.

The temple was returning to its normal size. As Hyla looked behind her, she could see Azair and the temple guards running towards her. All at once the fox stopped in her tracks, staring in awe and terror at something behind the badger.

The coyote was still standing there, but the air around him seemed to be pulsing and distorting, until all at once, the god fractured. The appearance of him split into pieces like the surface of a frozen lake on the first warm day. And on each side of the fault lines, Hyla could see different versions of the god.

One image of Totukepsan snarled at her; it spat and thrust a fist towards her; it cursed her and promised wrack and ruin upon all she loved. His hands had grown long, claws like scythes emerging from the tip. His jowls slavered boiling, hissing acids. The eyes of Totukepsan were gone, replaced with ever gnashing, ever hungry mouths forever.

Another image of Totukepsan was on his knees. He was holding his hands out in a entreating posture, begging for mercy, begging for forgiveness. The eyes of Totukepsan were open here, each eye shedding tears that dripped off the coyote's form and pooled around him. His arms looked weak and haggard, with fur hanging loose off of his bones.

Hyla found herself reaching for this second image, her mind full of thoughts of the victorious badger bringing the god of trades to his knees.

But a voice in her mind stayed her, a voice from the face she refused to acknowledge. It told her to wait for the proper moment to strike.

And she saw it.

A third image of the god appeared. This one was not as grossly distorted as the other two. Instead, it had one hand plunged into its own head and was trying to pull something out. He strained from the effort and was screaming in pain and frustration. But the scream was not in Totukepsan's voice. The scream was in the voice of his channeler, Hyla's Master.

She reached out and clasped onto this coyote's shoulder. And all at once the fractures disappeared. Reality collapsed down to this single version of the god who was still convulsing in pain as he tried to withdraw something from his head. Hyla did not fully understand what was happening, whether there was a fight between channeler and god or within the god himself.

Whatever was happening, she could feel deep within herself that it was important and that she needed to help. "Do what needs to be done," she said. "You can feel the pain later, when you have the strength for it. But now you must focus and work past it."

The coyote's eyes were wild. They locked with hers for just a moment. He gripped his own wrist and hefted with all his might. And out his hand came, trailing along with it a small chunk of rock. He would have collapsed from the effort if not for Hyla's strong arms.

Then the guards reached them, and not having understood what had happened any better than the badger herself, tried attacking her. But their blows were clumsy and easily dodged as she shielded the coyote's form. She saw a streak of gray as Azair approached, and saw the butt end of a pike slam into the side of her head. She saw the fox fall and saw red trickle from her head.

She saw red.

And then she saw blackness.

And nothing else.

Her hands were on the guard, lifting him off the ground. She was squeezing her fingers around his throat and watching his eyes roll in his skull. His lips had turned blue.

"Hyla..."

She felt his body shake. Death throes. Fighting for oxygen that she refused to give him. Another guard tried to stop her and was kicked back with such force that he went skidding across the floor.

"Hyla, let go of him."

Her grip slackened, but only a little. She held the guard on the precipice, an inch from death. He deserved it. They all deserved it. They would all suffer and while they suffered she would not.

"Hyla, you do not want to go back to that place."

The badger turned her head. The coyote was there, one hand on her arm, the other still clutching the strange rock he had pulled from his own skull. His look was stern and commanding, but also compassionate.

It told her she didn't have to suffer.

Hyla let go.

The guard fell to the ground, panting and wheezing, but the black mass in her mind still roiled: so she ignored its pleas for blood just as she ignored the gasping guard. Instead she bent over Azair's frail form and checked to make sure she was all right.

Beside her, the coyote knelt down and placed a hand to the wound on the side of her head. "It's not bad," he said. "Looks worse than it is. But it is still going to hurt."

"Going to?" Hyla found the question escaping her wrapped around a growl.

The coyote gave a sad nod and then shivered as he placed a hand on her shoulder. While Hyla watched, the wound sealed itself shut on Azair's head, skin folding and stitching itself to seal the damage. Even the blood soaked back into her fur and disappeared. But at the same time, the wound replicated itself on the coyote's head. He whined in growing pain as the skin split open and blood oozed out. Within moments his face was smeared red through his dusty pelt. He caught sight of Hyla's concerned look and said, in a voice that was shakier than it had been even a moment ago, "God of trades, remember? Everything has to be an exchange."

The coyote then reached out towards the prone guard, but Hyla stopped him. "If you can exchange injuries, give his to me."

He looked at her for a moment and then nodded. A moment later, Hyla felt a pressure at her throat and pain blossomed up all around her neck. She could feel bruises forming. She closed her eyes and pushed the pain aside. She could let it hurt later.

When Hyla looked up again, everyone was staring at her. All the guards, all the supplicants. They were all looking right at her. Shock and awe were etched across all their expressions. No one moved.

She felt the coyote get to his feet beside her, resting a hand on her shoulder to steady himself. He addressed all the onlookers. "Let it not be said that a slave is too lowly to teach even a god a lesson in humility. I had forgotten an important duty and it was she, Hyla Brokenfang, who reminded me to do it." He massaged his jaw theatrically and added, "Although I was not expecting the lesson to be so physical."

Hyla watched. The guards relaxed a little. The supplicants' shocked faces softened. Even with blood smearing his face, her Master was a good orator.

But the badger could feel that the tableau was incomplete. Her Master had performed his role. Now she had to perform hers.

So the warrior turned to face the coyote and knelt low until her snout touched the floor. An act of deference. She had broken the order of things, but now was accepting its return.

"I must attend to matters with her and make things right at once. My apologies for those who have been waiting patiently. Your night here will be complimentary."

He then directed the nearby guards to take their fallen companion and Azair to get medical attention. Hyla started to move as they picked up the fox, but the coyote gripped her shoulder, suddenly as strong as iron. "You are still needed here," he said, his voice low so as not to be overheard. "I know you do not trust Totukepsan, so trust my word: she will be safe. Also," he paused, and his grip loosened, "you deserve some answers."

Hyla stayed where she was, not because she wanted answers, but because she could feel the coyote's unsteady stance and knew she was necessary for him to stay standing. He was a leader. It was his job to look strong even when he wasn't. She gritted her teeth as she watched the fox be carried out and kept her eyes on her until she was out of sight.

The moment the last person had left, her vision was filled by the coyote's hand, still tightly clutching the hunk of stone that had been pulled from within him. It looked like a misshapen piece of graystone. "Take it," he ordered

Hyla reached up and tugged. The coyote's fingers stayed tightly wrapped around it. "Then let go," she said.

"I can't. Totukepsan has done as much as he can. You have to take it."

Hyla tried pulling harder and still the coyote did not let go. "If I try any harder, I will hurt you."

"Just do it," he said with a sigh. "He'll numb me to the pain and repair the damage."

Hyla reached up and took hold of his hand within both of hers. The work was short and brutal with a sickening snap of bones. But his grip finally relinquished and she extracted the stone from his grip. He wheezed and sank to his knees, eyes shut tight as watery tears flowed down over his muzzle, washing some of the blood away. "He must be... more distracted... than I thought..." he said. "Fuck."

The coyote nearly pitched forward, but when Hyla reached out to steady him, he lurched away. "No! Keep the eye away. If I touch it, he'll try to keep hold of it, and we'll have to go through that all over again."

Hyla took a step back and looked again at the object she held. It still looked like a rock. "Eye?" she said.

The coyote winced and let out a groan as his hand began to repair itself, the bones pulling together once more. "Surely you've noticed he has rather a lot. That's one of them. The one he uses to see you."

Hyla flinched from the object she held. Here she was holding onto a piece of a god. But as quickly as she flinched, she reconsidered: he had torn this out of himself. A god had changed himself. Because of her? For her?

"Why?" was all she asked.

The coyote rubbed his wrist, worrying the fur as if the bones still ached. "I promise I will answer your questions. But can we do so someplace where I can rest?"

She nodded and using an outstretched arm to keep the coyote far from the eye, she helped him hobble towards the back of the temple, where the channeler's private quarters lay. They walked in silence, with Hyla's ears pricked and attentive. She understood the grunts and wheezes coming from the coyote. She had heard many such sounds before, from warriors returning from battle. With practice you could tell the injury sustained just by the way they breathed. The slow whine of a chest injury, the hitched breath caused by a leg injury, and so on. The coyote's breathing sounded like one who had given his all, and was suffering from simple but complete exhaustion.

Hyla was struck by the subdued architecture in the back of the temple. While the majority of the temple was adorned with the gaudy half-eye shapes, here there were plain walls of white stone.

The badger found her eye drawn to one of the walls as they walked, and how the shadows moved across the stonework. But there was something odd about it. They were walking side by side, but the coyote's shadow seemed to lag behind her own.

She paused, and the coyote followed her gaze. A growl started up in his throat. "Boskan, we had an agreement."

The muzzle of the coyote's shadow split in a wide smile. "Oh, dear brother," it said in a slithery voice that sent the hackles on Hyla's neck on end, "I have no interest on spying on whatever you get up to in your bedchambers. I merely had to check on you and your well-being."

The coyote sighed and made introductions, gesturing to the shadow. "This is Boskan, Totukepsan's brother and god of lies."

Hyla grumbled inwardly. More gods. She had had enough of gods.

The shadow slunk around so it was closer to the badger. "And this must be the slave you were fretting so much over, brother. She is... She is..."

Hyla felt her senses quicken. The shadowy god had been taunting the coyote, but now Hyla had his full attention. His ears were turned to her. His nose pointed straight at her. Inky black eyes stared at her. And it was clear he did not like what he sensed.

The shadow hissed out. "What is wrong with her?"

First Odoji, now Boskan. Hyla really wished people would stop asking questions like that about her. It was getting on her nerves.

But beside her, the coyote gained a self-satisfied smirk. "He's having the same problem Totukepsan did," he explained.

Hyla was about to ask what he meant, but the shadow burst out, "Where are the lies? There should be thousands of them, wriggling all over her. But I can't sense even one."

"I do not lie that much," Hyla said with a snort.

"You mortals lie all the time. You lie about how pleasant the weather is just to start a conversation. You lie to yourselves about how happy you are, how pretty you are, how smart you are. You cannot breathe but for lying. Except, it seems, that you can."

Hyla glanced down at the chunk of rock she held. An eye of Totukepsan. "The god of lies could not see my lies. What could Totukepsan not see?"

The coyote sighed and gestured to the end of the hall. "Please can we--"

"No. I want answers. Now." She paused, and reflected in a somewhat more respectful tone. "Master..."

He nodded slowly and lifted a hand to touch the wound on the side of his head. He inspected his fingers and seemed glad to find them not bloody. The wound had stopped actively leaking at least. He was still tired, but he seemed steadier. The coyote took a breath and stood tall. "Very well. Totukepsan is the god of trades, specifically fair trades. The thing he sees most clearly is when someone has been cheated, in a trade or otherwise. When you were in the slave pens, we could sense that you had been cheated somehow, but nothing more. We should have been able to read the details of what had happened to you in fine detail, just as Boskan should be able to know every lie you've ever told. But he couldn't. Somehow, Hyla, you've been shrouded from the gods themselves."

"Good."

He shook his head sharply and then winced, touching his wound again. "No, Hyla. Let me be clear on this. That is not good. Only gods and witches are capable of that and there were bargains struck long ago to make sure these things were never done again. Because someone who would do this isn't hiding you, they are hiding what they did to you." The coyote paused, but Hyla did not respond to this. "Regardless, Totukepsan could tell that something had been done to you, but the inability to tell what, it was like an itch he could not scratch. It slowly drove him mad. He was so distracted, he broke his promise to you without realizing he was doing it. That's why I had to convince him to tear out his eye." He pointed to Hyla's hand. "Without it, he would no longer see anything wrong with you. He could recover."

Hyla looked at it again. It certainly did not seem any different from any chunk of rock, but then, gods were strange beings.

"As easy as it is to change a god," the shadowy figure on the wall whispered out, "no one's managed to change Totukepsan before. You should be proud, girl."

At being called a girl, Hyla snapped out without thinking, her fist colliding with bare rock, but the shadowy god recoiled from the blow. He flitted to the wall opposite the badger, keeping Totukepsan's channeler between them. "Control your slave, brother."

"Then control your tongue, Boskan," the coyote snapped.

Both coyote and shadow flinched from this sudden exchange. The channeler held up his hands as if warding off an escalation of the argument. "I'm sorry, brother," he said.

"Apology not accepted," the god of lies icily replied. And then the shadow seemed to fade back.

The coyote reached out for the wall, his fingers touching the shadows of his fingers, but by now the shadow was truly just a shadow once more.

The coyote spun around. "Hyla, I want you to promise me that from now on, you will do as I say when it comes to the other gods."

The badger felt her hackles bristle. "I--"

He cut her off. "Your gods are used to this behavior. The badger gods expect you to snarl and rage. But things are different here and not all the gods are used to the way you treat them. I respect you, but I need you to do this. You are under my protection and I cannot protect you if you provoke the other gods. Promise me that you will follow my instructions."

Hyla felt her hackles relax slowly. She stared down the coyote and felt her hand clutch tighter around the eye. "No."

"Hyla..." the coyote began, sounding exasperated.

"The god of trades does not beg for promises. He makes deals. If you want me to promise this, then I need a promise in return."

The coyote's stance relaxed. And there was, just at the corners of his muzzle, the subtle hint of a smile. She was approaching him on his own terms. "What promise do you require?"

"That you will no longer sic gods onto me like that bat in my dreams. If you respect my beliefs, then you will not try to force me to interact with the gods."

He sighed and looked to the ground, his tail curled sheepishly behind him. "Ashi was supposed to not disturb you."

Hyla glared at him.

"All right. All right. A promise for a promise. You will do as I say, and I will make sure to ask before getting other gods involved."

She held out a hand. He shook it.

"Now please," he said. "I really am struggling to stand."

Hyla wrapped an arm under the coyote's shoulder.

After a few more steps, she said, quietly, "I hope I have not caused any problems between you and your brother."

The coyote cocked an ear, surprised. "Suddenly you are concerned about the feelings of gods?"

The warrior stared ahead in silence.

He did not press her. "Totukepsan and Boskan may antagonize each other at times, but fundamentally they care for one another. And, over the years, I've learned that Boskan is one of the most trustworthy gods I've met."

"The god of lies? Trustworthy?"

"Mmhmm. Do you remember the last thing he said?"

"He was rejecting your apology."

"And who he is?"

"The god of lies." She paused as the two facts slotted in. "He lied about that?"

The coyote smiled and nodded as they reached the doors to his bedchambers. Hyla helped him to open them. "He lies because it is in his nature to lie, but if you know he lies then you can read the truth in between. Most of the time anyway."

Hyla pulled the coyote through the entrance and took in the bedchambers. The warrior was not sure what she had expected. She knew that the coyote was rich beyond anyone else had met, so she was unsurprised by how large and well-stocked the bedchambers were, with enough furniture to fill multiple houses. They were also richly decorated. But what stood out to her was how muted everything was. The furniture was not elaborate: everything had a clear and intended purpose. The pieces of art were not showy: they were things the coyote clearly cared about and wanted nearby, and they stretched back through historical styles she did not recognize. It felt old though. Older than anything she had seen in town.

As they entered, the coyote directed her to put the god's eye into a chest in the far corner of the room. Out of sight, out of mind. Hopefully.

Then the warrior carried the god to a vanity against one wall and, at his instructions, helped him out of the clothes of his office. The unusual combination of warlike pauldron, king-like sash, and work-like pants were set aside for cleaning and replaced with a simple robe. She poured water into a graystone basin that immediately chilled the water down. With a towel, she started to dab at the angry wound above his temple.

When the towel touched him, he flinched away hard and growled low in his throat.

Hyla tried again, but with the same result. "You have to hold still."

"It stings," he said, sucking air through his teeth.

Hyla gripped his nape sharply and held his head up and steady. "Breathe in deeply, then exhale slowly."

He began to breathe in.

"When you exhale, close your eyes. What you will feel will be like any other sensation, like the sun's warmth or the wind's touch on your fur. Treat it as such. You can feel the pain slowly rather than all at once."

As he exhaled, she brought the towel up and brushed it against the wound. He hissed and flinched again, but not by as much. She brushed again and then held the cooling water against his face, cleaning the dried blood away as gently as she could.

"Don't hold the pain away forever. You need to feel it eventually."

His eyes blinked open and the coyote gave her a sidelong glance. "I'm not as good as a badger at postponing my pain."

She nodded and continued to apply the compress to him, until she was satisfied. The water was muddied. She set it aside and picked up the coyote's wrist.

"That is fine," he said. "Nothing you need to do there."

"I can see." Hyla turned the hand over. She had broken it, neatly but severely. He should have been screaming in pain given how he had reacted to the compress. He should have had his hand bound tightly to help the bones reset, but as she ran the pads of her fingers over him, she couldn't find a single imperfection in the bone structure.

Her eyes flicked from the mended hand to the still angry wound on his temple and back again. One had healed. The other had not.

"What deal did you make with the god?" she asked.

He shot her a quizzical glance, but she noticed there was more action and animation in his face now that he had been tended to.

"You traded for Azair's injury and you still have it on you, but I broke your hand. The god fixed that, but not the other one. He doesn't just do things for people. I know that now. He makes trades. So what was the trade he made with you?"

The coyote stared silently at her for some time. His gaze shifted slightly, as if searching the curves of her face for something. Hyla returned the same impassive expression she was used to wearing.

He sighed. His ears went flat. "Only a very few have ever thought to ask me that question. I trust you will be discreet about the answer."

"What do I get in exchange?"

"This is not between you and Totukepsan. This is between you and me, and as your Master I am ordering you to be discreet."

She nodded. She still wasn't sure where the coyote ended and the god began.

He held up his arm and showed off the ugly brand which scarred his left arm. "In exchange for the power of being a channeler, there were two conditions. The first was that I had to have this for the rest of my life. I would always remember where I came from."

Hyla looked at the brand. It was still a mystery to her. "A criminal?" she guessed.

He shook his head. "A slave."

The badger could not keep the surprise from her face.

"I was purchased to work on an estate, harvesting crops. Back then, slaves were branded with the symbol of their buyer, so if they ran away they could be returned." He sighed and traced the lines of the scars. "I would have happily gotten rid of this, but he kept it for a good purpose: to keep me humble. I work with kings and conquerors. I shape the trades that will shape the future of empires. I sit among the richest and most powerful people in the world, but I am never allowed to think that I am one of them. Because every time I look down, I remember that I was marked so I could never escape being owned." He turned to look at his reflection in the vanity's mirror. "And it works, damn him. It does keep me in check."

"No one recognizes it?"

"It's meant to be a reminder for me, not for anyone else. So part of the bargain was that Totukepsan would not let anyone else recognize it for what it was."

"And the second condition?"

He continued staring at his reflection, silent. And it occurred to Hyla that she had never seen him look older than he did at that moment. He looked weary in a way that even her great-grandfather had not. "Not long before I was offered the chance to become a channeler, the one I called my master took my son away in the night. He traded him off for a new gold bangle that his wife wore once--just once--before forgetting about." Bitterness dripped from his words. Time did not heal all wounds. "The second condition was that I never go looking for him."

"Why?"

The coyote lifted a hand. With a flick of a finger, fire began to dance across his claws. "Because the first thing after I did after I became a channeler was to kill my old master. I took that bangle he traded my son for, melted it, and poured the molten gold down his throat. I kept him alive in agony as I burned the estate and his house, with him still inside. And I don't doubt that he deserved it. He was a vile man." He flicked his fingers again and the flames vanished. "I may not be a god, Hyla, but I carry a substantial amount of the power of one at my beck and call. I would have done anything to get my son back. Anything. And Totukepsan knew as well as I did that I would have tortured innocent people if it brought me a step closer to him." The coyote looked at her and the fire was now in his eyes. "I might do the same now, if I thought it would help." He took a breath. He relaxed. "I'm sorry."

"I understand." She found herself adding, "I felt the same way once."

The coyote looked up sharply, as if he had been talking to himself this whole time and only now noticed the presence of the badger beside him. "What do you mean?"

Hyla swallowed a lump in her throat and felt the transferred pain of the guard as she did so. "You asked me once why a proud warrior would fight after defeat."

She felt a hand on her shoulder. "And I also said I would never ask you again."

Hyla nodded. "You did, and you kept that promise. But I need to say it anyways." She knew it was time. It was time at last to let the pain hurt.

She had been running away from the face in her memories, refusing to let herself think of it or see it. But now she searched for that face, remembering a time in her home, back in the sett, where she had been laughing and singing after dinner and he was laughing and singing too. She saw him, grinning wildly in the flickering firelight.

And then she saw him dead, an arrow jutting from his skull.

Cold ice gripped her heart. The blackness in her thoughts started to swirl again.

She searched for his face again and found him alongside her during training, panting with exhaustion and eyes narrowed with determination.

And then she saw him falling, lips drawn back in a snarl that would never leave him, etched in by rigor mortis.

She saw him stuffing his face on fresh-cooked fish.

She saw him on the ground, unmoving.

She saw him sharpening his axe, his muzzle highlighted by the sparks that arced from it.

She saw him dead.

Over and over again, she saw him dead. No matter what other memories she conjured up, it always turned back to the moment of his death.

Hyla took a shuddering breath. "I had a brother," she said, and felt the cold finality of the past tense threaten to drag her down into that black pit in her mind. The inky waters roiled around her thoughts, tinging them all with bloodlust. "My twin."

She was finally able to hold onto just one image of him, looking back at her, a mirror image of her own face.

She felt the hand of the coyote still on her shoulder, supporting her and giving her the strength to continue.

"Badgers aren't supposed to have twins," she explained. "Tevir and Taavir decreed it when they made us. If two of us are born at once, it's too much. We're too powerful. The world gets confused. It expected one and got two, and our destinies get tangled. What happens to one of us happens to the other."

She remembered a time, when her brother had skinned his knee. She had known he had done it even though she had been away from him at the time, because she had fallen and skinned her knee on soft grass. And she also remembered the time she had twisted her ankle, and her brother had twisted his a moment later.

"So, very quickly, we have to make a choice. We have to make sure the world can no longer confuse the two of us. We can do that either by striking out in completely different paths or by taking the same path forever. My brother and I did the latter. We swore an oath to have the same life. We shared everything. The same work, the same home, the same meals, the same partners even, and we were supposed to share the same death."

It felt good to say it. To get through the words quickly so she wouldn't have to just be thinking and seeing his dead face over and over again.

But she knew she was only dodging the heart of the matter. So she got to the point: "One day we heard some new power battling his way into the badger lands. He didn't have a name, so far as we knew. We just heard rumors of a silver wolf and the dead he left in his wake. We set out for battle."

Hyla's heart seemed to stop in her chest. She knew what happened next. She could see herself strapping on her armor and watched him do the same. She could see the field that had been chosen. She felt the rocks underfoot as she prepared to charge.

"And it was so FUCKING UNFAIR." Bubbling, seething grief flashed to rage in an instant. The anger sought the nearest outlet and found it in the chair Hyla had been sitting on. She picked it up and hurled it with all her might at the nearby stone wall, shattering it into a shower of sharp splinters that sprayed back at her. But she didn't care. She screamed in hate and defiance of the way things were, until her throat was raw and she had used up every last bit of air in her lungs. But when she took a breath to scream again, all that came out was a ragged, choked sob, the rage condensing back into the black mass of grief.

The badger fell to her knees, clutching at the ground for strength as she tried to suck in air and bellow again in the hope that through sheer anger she could change the nature of the world, but there was no strength left. There was only pain. There was only hurt. There was only the emptiness, a hole in her life where he should have been.

Because he was gone. No more. Past tense.

And she was still here. Alive. Present tense.

It wasn't fair.

So she cried until there were no tears left, she sobbed until her stomach ached, and she mourned until there was nothing left but a broken, defeated warrior lying on the floor.

She sniffed and wiped an arm across her muzzle. It came back slick with tears and snot. So she stood and cleaned herself in the washbowl, glad to have a simple, everyday occurrence to fill her time with.

It was only when she looked up from the washbowl that she saw the coyote reflected in the mirror. He was still standing behind her, still holding a hand to her shoulder, still supporting her. He had been throughout her entire outburst. There was no judgment in his face, only strength in his touch. She was grateful for that.

She opened her mouth to speak and found she could not. She poured herself a drink of clean water and drank it greedily, cleaning her parched and pained throat. Then she said, "We were some of the best warriors in the land. We were trained, we were skilled, we were armed and armored. We should have been the last to fall on the field of battle, when there was nothing left but impossible odds and an axe in each hand. But it was stupid, idiotic chance that killed him. A single arrow fired at the start of battle, before we'd even charged their ranks, hit him in the eye. He was dead the moment it hit. Gone in an instant."

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to block out the memories, but she kept watching him get hit with the arrow, mid-step, and collapse to the ground, over and over again.

"Stupid," she said again, her throat dry and ragged as she spoke. "But once he was dead, I had an oath to fulfill: we shared the same life, and so were to share the same death. So I charged ahead into the fray, recklessly, a suicide mission. I gave no regard for my own safety. I went straight for the most dangerous spot of the battle. I should have died. There were a dozen ways I should have been killed, but I wasn't."

She went quiet then, and the hand on her back patted her gently. "You said you were an oathbreaker," the coyote spoke gently. "But you ran to meet your death. Was it because you survived?"

Hyla felt her mind trying to race away from the question. Her brother's death had hurt, but this...

No, she had to face her pain.

Hot tears welled up and burst forth, cascading down her cheeks. Each breath came with a shudder. "I woke up afterwards already in chains. The last thing I remember of the battle was a club aimed straight at my head. That, and I remember thinking as it came towards me that I should defend myself. I should live. I didn't need to die alongside him. I wanted to break my oath and betray the one thing I had to do to honor my brother's death. But I woke up and couldn't remember if I had or hadn't."

The coyote nodded solemnly. "You asked yourself a terrible question, and rather than risk an answer that would cause yourself pain, you fought. So long as you kept fighting, you didn't ask the question."

Hyla sank into herself. She'd said her piece. She'd faced her pain. Now it was time to heal. The ragged hole of her brother's absence was still there in her mind, but now the edges were duller.

Hyla drifted, allowing herself to feel the memories of her brother one at a time. They stung, but each stung less than the last. It even surprised the warrior how little it hurt when she realized that she could no longer remember his name. He was just "my brother" in her mind. Just one more memory she had traded away to the god.

When she stirred again, she saw the coyote had also been lost deep in thought. She returned the gesture and placed a supporting hand on his shoulder. He blinked. "I'm sorry," he said. "I've been thinking." He stopped and corrected himself. "We've been thinking."

"About me?"

He nodded. "We saw that you had been cheated and evidence of that cheating hidden from the gods. We assumed, perhaps wrongly, that it was because of something that had been done to you. But maybe it had to do with your brother's death instead. That, and there's this silver wolf you mentioned..."

"You know him?"

"No, that's just it. I haven't heard anything. Remember when Colfor came to see you for the first time? It was because we couldn't track who had first captured you. If it was this silver wolf, he didn't want people to know about his actions. He could have been sending captured prisoners south as trade while hiding where they really came from."

Hyla felt a strange sensation, like the floor was falling away from her feet. The warrior had been so concerned with her personal demons that she had not considered how they had fit into the larger world. It made her own problems seem small in comparison, and she felt guilty for having indulged them for so long.

But still the hate and rage simmered in the black pool of her thoughts.

"Could he be the one who..." she paused to remember the term the coyote had used, "...shrouded me?"

The coyote ran a claw over his chin, and answered perfunctorily, as though he were already thinking of the next thing. "Not likely. Only gods and witches can do that, and the only gods or witches who could be called silver wolves either do not reside in that area or would find the thought of being a warlord appalling. Besides," and here he smiled lightly, "gods have far better ways to hide a record of ownership than by smudging the ink of some paperwork."

The badger crossed her arms and snorted.

"Meanwhile," he said, "there are many I should contact, to see if I can learn anything about this silver wolf for one. And for another, to see if I can find other gods who might be able to see through this shroud placed on you--with your permission, of course. And perhaps the local witch could help: you mentioned badger twins affect destiny in strange ways, and there is no one more knowledgeable about destiny than her."

Hyla perked up slightly at this. "I'd like to see this witch. But if she cannot pierce this shroud, then I permit you to contact other gods."

"You permit your Master should do things?"

"I do."

He smiled and placed a hand on her forearm. "But all that can be for tomorrow. For tonight, Hyla Brokenfang, will you join me?" He swept one arm out towards the magisterial bed in the corner.

"For sex?" she asked.

"After all that happened today, are you interested?"

"No."

"Good, cause neither am I."

And so they fell asleep just holding on to one another. And Hyla was glad of how close he pressed up against her. It meant that in the dark times of the night, when the thought of her brother dying flashed in her memory, he was there to dry away the tears.

* * *

Of course a toll had to be paid. It was not just that she had assaulted a god, she had also assaulted her own master. So at midday the next day, she was locked into stocks just outside the slave quarters.

The stocks were sized to a smaller person to herself, so she had her arms forced in awkwardly against her sides and she had to kneel down.

It was a punishment of a sort. She was not set out in front of the temple for whatever the public desired, but instead in front of her fellow slaves by their shared quarters. It was a reminder: her Master was in charge. He was reinforcing his authority and nothing more.

Several slaves came up to make sure she was not alone all day, and Hyla surprised them by speaking with them in the local tongue, now that she knew it. Previously she had to translate everything through Azair, and as good as the fox was, it was hard for the badger to understand the full shape of the words being spoken to her, to know not just their content but also the personality of the person behind them. She relished in being able to converse more freely and learn more about her fellow slaves.

Azair herself came out to visit her briefly. She was all right, just tired and resting off the remnants of her injury. Hyla found herself silently thanking her Master for healing her. His own wound had still looked a little raw when she had left him in the morning. Her own neck still throbbed lightly. She had been told the guard was recovering quite well.

The more she conversed with the other slaves, the more the side effect of Odoji's training made itself known. The act of speaking the local tongue was still sensual. The way the syllables slid over her lips and the motions of her tongue kept putting her in the mind of eating someone out, and the vowels made her think of a cock in her mouth. Her hips started to sway a little with unbidden need and her ankles crossed as she tried to hold in her desire.

However, most slaves were a touch wary of her: she was still Hyla Brokenfang, fearsome warrior with all the muscles and strength that implied. The stockades that held her looked like they would snap apart if she wanted to get out (and they would, she knew). Though she now could speak the local tongue, she did so gruffly and directly, without either the respectfulness of formal speech or the ease of casual conversation.

It was a pair of bobcats who finally approached her. She had thought they were twins, but it turned out they just happened to look very similar to one another. She was chatting with one of the males about his recent customers when she gasped, feeling the other's hands on her breast. He had rough pawpads and no compunction against pushing his claws into her fur, almost pricking her skin. And as he was so much smaller than her, he could easily use both hands on one breast, kneading it from two sides at once. Her stiff nipple was caught between the sides of his palms and each motion rubbed it back and forth.

Hyla only realized she'd been lost in the throes of pleasure when she felt something against her hand. She jerked just a little in her restraints--making the wood creak and groan in protest--before she realized it was just the other bobcat's sheath. He was pressing it against her fingers and leering down at her with a knowing smile.

She returned the lascivious look.

The badger's hand closed around the sheath. Here the size difference meant that one hand was more than enough for the male's package. She took to grinding the tip of her middle finger against his taint while her palm rubbed the front of his sheath. When his shaft emerged, she held it loosely and stroked the little bit that the bounds would allow. He didn't complain about the inferior quality of the handjob.

The badger tried pushing him towards her head with his hand, and after an initial confused moment, he understood and brought his cocktip to her lips. But Hyla's jaws clacked shut when his "twin" switched tactics. He had been just teasing her with his hands, but now he had gotten his teeth involved. Ten dexterous fingers worked their way from base to nipple while his teeth played against her areola, and that hard, raspy tongue flicked out. Driven by instinct, she tried to press down into the bobcat's touch, angling her shoulders as that was the only way to do so in the stocks. But even when she was straining, there was no additional stimulation. The bobcat in front of her chuckled and pushed his shaft against her lips once more.

She took him in like a dainty morsel in her muzzle. The badger found herself being a bit more experimental. This wasn't a job she had to do. It was like her time spent with Azair. She was doing it just for the joy of doing it.

So she tried to curl her tongue around the bobcat's shaft and caress along it. She attempted a few maneuvers that she'd heard Azair talk about, but had never managed to accomplish herself. As she tried to wriggle her tongue in just the right way, she felt hands on her cheeks. The bobcat was massaging the muscles just behind her jaw and telling her to relax there. The warrior realized, after a brief moment, that he was trying to help her, like when she had helped eager young badgers swing their first sword without taking a finger off.

So next time he pulled out she stopped him from pushing in again, and asked him how she could do that particular move correctly.

The bobcat smiled and yanked out his look-alike from underneath the badger. She was somewhat sad to lose the intriguing and erotic touches to her breasts, but watched as he was pushed down to his knees and immediately made to take the other bobcat's entire length in his mouth in one thrust. It hadn't been a big shaft compared to Hyla's size, but as the bobcat's were nearly identical, she was impressed by how well the one on his knees was able to take it in. She saw the light bulge in his throat from where the tip of the shaft was.

But he wasn't teaching Hyla how to deep throat. So after the males enjoyed the quick, rough face-fucking, the one on his knees pulled his head back and turned his muzzle to be perpendicular to the shaft. From here he was able to wrap his tongue fully around it, the tip tickling his palate. He then demonstrated the motion of the tongue. It was a simple push from the bottom of his mouth, which made his tongue twist about the length. The cock jumped in his muzzle as the standing bobcat had trouble containing his excitement.

Slowly the bobcats turned so they were facing a little more towards each other. The bobcat on his knees kept his mouth open to show how this moved his tongue. He was still making the same motions, pushing out from the base of his muzzle, but it produced a slightly different effect, partially twisting along the length and partially pumping up and down. This effect became even more pronounced as they faced each other directly, in the standard oral position. Still the bobcat on his knees kept his lips parted so Hyla could see how he moved. Then, after a moment or two more, and when it looked like his partner was close to popping, he slipped the shaft from his muzzle and offered it to the bound badger to try.

Hyla did, holding her head to the side and wrapping her tongue the way he had. She tried turning her face back to the bobcat straight on, but the first few times, her tongue slipped from around the now bouncing shaft. The standing bobcat curled his toes and pawed lightly at the ground as he tried to maintain his posture and let the badger practice. She decided to change tactics and reward him for his patience. She held the tip of his shaft gingerly between her teeth and ran her tongue along the underside of his cockhead. He surged and she heard the splatter of his seed hit the wood of the stocks beside her.

She let go and tilted her head to the other bobcat, indicating he should take his partner's place. He leapt up and pushed his partner out of the way, his own length throbbing at attention before her muzzle. So she tried again, finding it easier with this bobcat not being quite as excited already. There was less twitching and thrusting to deal with as she maneuvered the cock and her tongue together. Finally she managed to achieve it, although her tongue felt strangely stretched and she was sure it was going to be sore later that day. But the bobcat did not seem to mind, grinding and thrusting in towards her throat. He slipped free of her tongue-wrap more than once and she had to restart the whole process of getting them both back into position, but it got easier with practice. When the bobcat climaxed with a loud moan right into her mouth, Hyla felt a surge of satisfaction and swallowed eagerly.

The bobcat caressed over her head, slightly dazed in the afterglow. He looked up, and then snapped to attention, his partner joining him in first standing straight and then bowing low.

"Thank you, that will be all," she heard her Master say.

The bobcats dashed back into the slave quarters as the coyote stepped into view. Within seconds, windows creaked open and eyes peered out from all over the building to watch what happened.

The coyote smiled and pointedly did not look back at the building. He knew they had an audience; he did not need to acknowledge it. "Are you recovering well?"

"Yes, Master," Hyla responded respectfully. She glanced up. In addition to his usual adornments of office, there was a bandage wrapped around his head.

The coyote lowered his voice. "You should hear the stories. Already they are talking about you, 'the slave who fought a god.'"

"And you allowed this?"

"Allowed?" The coyote chuckled, and a third eye opened on his forehead as his tone shifted to the quick patter of the god himself. "I encouraged those stories, properly adjusted and edited so we both save face, of course. After all, was not part of our bargain that you should have the opportunity to regain your honor? And for badgers, what could be more honorable than standing up to a god? Besides, the story of the lowly one who teaches an arrogant god a lesson is a well-worn trope for a reason: it is good to remind people of the power they themselves possess."

"But your ability to lead--"

"Will not be affected." The coyote held up a hand. An eye opened on the palm and looked at her. "As I said, there were some edits to the story. But, as much as I could stand here and self-aggrandize to stroke my own ego, my channeler has things he wishes to discuss with you."

The extra eyes slid shut, and Hyla was about to speak up when the coyote's hand roughly gripped her jaw and pulled it down. Another hand yanked down the coyote's pants just far enough to let his shaft spring free.

Hyla stared in fascination. She knew she was larger than anyone else in the House, but in that moment, the coyote seemed perfectly sized for her. She wondered if it was another consequence of holding a god: he could speak her language without knowing it, and perhaps he could also appear just as she desired without needing to actually be it. She found herself salivating at the throbbing canine shaft that was held before her.

He pushed the tip of his length down to meet her lips and then slid himself in. Hyla had half-expected him to ask permission, but she realized he didn't need to. Not because he was the Master and she was his slave, but because he understood her well enough to know what she wanted and what she did not. He would not put her in the position of having to refuse an order.

Hyla closed her eyes and let her mouth slide shut around the shaft as he let go. Yes, there had to be some god-stuff involved, but for once she did not mind. He was just the right size, the right temperature, the right taste and smell, the right mixture of stiff cock and soft skin. He was exactly what she needed in that moment to forget her past as a warrior and embrace her new role. She slid her tongue along him, trying to show off the new tricks she had learned.

And he let her do so for a while, before he started to focus on his own needs. He gripped the stocks just above her bound head and started to thrust, deep and hard. She couldn't keep her tongue in its wrapped position. She was forced to just hold it still as he moved across it.

She caught a glimpse of someone watching her from a window. The other slaves were watching intently, but they weren't watching him. They were watching her, testing her.

So she closed her lips tightly around the shaft in her mouth and did her best to add extra stimulation the small amount the stocks would allow. She couldn't move forward or back, but she could twist slightly, turning her head left and right around the shaft as it slipped in and out. She tried to suck more as he pulled back and relax as he slid in.

The coyote came without the usual warnings. One second he was happily thrusting away. The next he was climaxing, thick seed landing on Hyla's tongue. He pulled back with a satisfied air. After hitching his pants back into place, he bent forward and planted a surprisingly tender kiss to the badger's forehead, one hand caressing behind the crook of her ear.

And then he was gone, whisked away back around the great tree to deal with whatever affairs called the attention of the god of trades. After he was gone, a bobcat poked his head out from the slave quarters and grinned at her. Several others came out with him to speak with her.

She had passed the test.

* * *

Far, far to the north was a battlefield, covered in blood and the dead of both sides. Beside the battlefield stood a wolf, and behind the wolf was a crowd, waiting, expectant, quiet.

The wolf stood, and the crowd watched. "Victory," he announced, his arms outstretched.

A murmur in the crowd, nothing more. They only saw their dead comrades. They saw loss and defeat. They did not yet believe.

"Victory," he said.

The most zealous among them stamped their feet and spoke their agreement.

"Victory," he said again, louder.

More joined in, shouting to make up for the silent ones.

"Victory," he yelled.

Finally, the dam broke. Cajoled by their leader and peers, more and more began joining in.

"Victory," he chanted.

"Victory!" they chanted back.

"Victory!" A thump of fists against chests.

"Victory!" A clang of sword against shield.

"Victory!" A beat of spears against the earth.

Out on the battlefield, despite the lack of wind, there was a rustle. Despite the lack of life, there was movement.

The rhythm of the chanting died away as the crowd watched in awe, and then it came back in a deafening roar of triumph.

The wolf wreathed in silvery light smiled and said to himself, "Victory eternal."

Next time: Hyla Brokenfang at the Witch's Ball