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"Under the ice, the river still flows."

--Badger idiom, meaning that no matter how much things appear to change, their fundamental nature remains the same

"Your Honor, we welcome you to the House of Totukepsan and its many pleasures."

A porcupine regarded Hyla imperiously from behind a set of spectacles. Behind him a pair of servants, both rats dressed in drab green, kept their heads bowed. He was, to quote his full title, His Honor, Per Scheuler Mounstalvon, High Tradesman of Marchwood. He was also, in Hyla's estimation, a snob.

Colfor, however, comported himself with the dignity of his position as majordomo. The rabbit held out an arm in a grandiose gesture to Hyla, his finely crafted robe sweeping through the air to exaggerate the motion. "This is the badger we spoke of. Hyla Brokenfang. The fiercest of our many slaves. I trust she will be to your liking."

Scheuler took from one of his servants a compact rod, whose end was twisted until it telescoped out. He twisted it the other way to tighten it and confirmed it was secure with a bit of pressure on the tip. Then he swung it Hyla's way, poking and prodding her with the rod to extend his reach, as he was rather short, even by non-badger standards. "Arm up," he commanded, and Hyla raised her arm. When he was done inspecting, he told her to put it down.

The porcupine circuited around her body once before tapping the rod on the ground before her. The rat servants produced a small step stool seemingly from nowhere and set it on the spot. Scheuler ascended and swapped his spectacles for a loupe, inspecting the badger's pelt more closely. Then the spectacles went back on. "Muzzle open."

Hyla opened her mouth.

He inspected inside and reached out to touch the chipped tooth which had become her namesake. Then his hand withdrew.

"Muzzle closed."

She closed and the loupe was brought closer to allow Scheuler to carefully inspect her face. Hyla kept her gaze level, staring at the wall behind him.

He at last descended and gave a polite nod to Colfor. "She will do. Her collar needs to be fitted with a heavy chain, however."

"Of course. It will be done immediately." The jackrabbit clapped his hands and there was a small flurry of activity as workers for the House found the appropriate items in the stockroom and brought them out. Hyla flinched when they removed her collar: it was only symbolic, but she still felt like it tied her to the god's promise and her hope of regaining her honor. Another collar, this one of metal with a heavy chain attached, was slipped around her neck and the clasp closed.

The High Tradesman inspected the chain the same way he had inspected Hyla before. Finally, he was satisfied and with a gesture for one of his servants to pay Colfor, he began to lead the badger away.

The whole time, Hyla had not said a word. She was not supposed to. She was ornamental.

Indeed, she had never felt so ornamental before. Almost all the people who had hired her to work at the House of Totukepsan had hired her to do something, but, as Colfor had explained to her earlier, Scheuler simply wanted to have her by his side. She was not supposed to talk. She was not supposed to move. She was to be a feature of the room, little different from a statue.

She was not the only ornamentation he had. She noted that the porcupine wore a pair of bracelets, each wrought from gold and fitted with as many fine jewels as could be placed in a small space. But he frequently rubbed at his wrists, as though the bracelets irritated his skin. They served no purpose but to weigh him down. At least the rats did something for him.

After leaving Colfor, the first place the porcupine took Hyla to was one of the gambling houses. Hyla did not know the rules of this game, and could only tell how the game progressed by the amount of money in front of Scheuler. He did not play to win, but he did not play poorly either. He simply played because it appeared to be part of his role and function to gamble while he was visiting the House of Totukepsan. Yet more ornamentation.

There was only a moment or two when the facade dropped, and Hyla caught the porcupine quietly inspecting the curves of her body. It gave her some hope that there would be something at the end of the day beyond being a decoration for the pompous High Tradesman. The thought surprised her: she truly had changed in the time since her arrival.

After more time of disinterested gambling, Scheuler got on with the business he had come for. He rented a small but impressive meeting room in one of the more opulent hotels. A long queue waited outside for the chance to speak with him. The porcupine sat at one end of the table, rats behind him, with Hyla kneeling at his side. One by one those waiting outside entered and spoke to Scheuler of the various business ventures they hoped to engage in.

Although she had tried to soften her demeanor around the House of Totukepsan, here she did her best to be fierce and intimidating, at the same time emphasizing that she was restrained. The heavy collar and chain that the porcupine had added to her were clearly visible through her fur, and she knelt submissively, staring at a point on the far wall. The physical toll on her from staying still for so long was minimal, and was only difficult because she had gotten out of practice since she began work as a slave.

The physical immobility gave her mind time to wander. She didn't understand the finer points of what everyone was discussing with Scheuler, but she began to pick up why they had all come: Scheuler, as High Tradesman, was a government official tasked with assessing business ventures. He could deem them either high risk or low risk and also could provide some starting capital to particularly promising ideas to encourage other investors further. Hyla wondered why those other investors did not simply make their own assessment, but realized as time went on that Scheuler was extremely well respected. If he gave his blessing, there was little else needed, and if he did not, even eager investors would think twice. Perhaps that was all being a High Tradesman was.

Why this all had to be done in Anaros instead of Scheuler's home in Marchwood she could not tell. Perhaps they considered it a good sign to work under the auspices of the god of trades.

If that was true, they were foolish.

In the span between guests, Scheuler would relax in a variety of ways. Most commonly he had a small cup of tea poured out, which he sipped in silence. Once, though, he dismissed a guest early and as soon as they had been escorted out, the rats brought out a small idol which they placed before him. The porcupine dipped his fingers in a small bowl of water and touched the base of the idol in a triangular pattern before praying.

Hyla found herself intrigued by the idol. It looked familiar: a bat with a hunched back and an unruly mop of fur atop her head that hid most of her face. Hyla tried to hold her position, moving only her eyes until she realized who it depicted. "Ashi?"

The rats gasped. Hyla was supposed to be an ornament. Ornaments do not speak.

However, Scheuler himself paid them no mind. He spoke to Hyla for the first time without giving a command. "Yes, I have prayed to Ashi for many years. When I was very young, I slept poorly. Rarely a night went by that I did not end up waking either screaming or sobbing. My parents bought this statue from a traveling priest and left it by my bedside. Within a week, I slept soundly again. I have prayed to it every day since in the hope that my children and future grandchildren would be spared what I endured." He dried his finger on a cloth and tapped the triangular pattern again. "I am surprised you recognize it. Ashi is not well known in Anaros, let alone the badger lands." He turned slightly in his seat to look at her, and Hyla knew this meant she was permitted--no, expected--to explain herself.

Hyla looked to the statue. "I didn't recognize her at first. When I met her, she tried to keep her back to me. I didn't see her much from the front."

"When you met her..." the porcupine repeated. "I would say you have been blessed, but the Eater of Nightmares does not visit those who are not in dire need. If you like, I will pray for you too."

Hyla appreciated that the choice was offered to her. Scheuler, for all his pomposity, understood the world, and he knew what badgers thought of the gods. "No," she said. "But thank you for the offer."

After that the tenor of Scheuler changed. He was still distant and aloof, but there were now small moments of intimacy, like when he would stroke her head as he sipped his tea in between meetings. She would relax then and enjoy the openly lustful stares he permitted while no one was watching, and in the moments before a new guest entered the room, she would stand up straighter and resume her stern look.

And so it continued, on until lunch, then through the afternoon until the sun stabbed through the window and forced Hyla to adjust her position so she would not be blinded. Even so late in the day, the only part of her that had begun to ache was her head: she was still inexperienced with many of the finer points of the local language and trying to parse out the intricate conversations of traders was threatening to give her a headache.

The last visitor of the day was different. This otter was younger, full of boundless energy and enthusiasm for his project. As formal and restrained as Scheuler was, this newcomer was informal and unrestrained. He spoke of his proposal in terms that sounded unbelievable even to Hyla's ear. He had a great new idea and didn't realize that everyone else had already seen it before. He, as the badgers liked to say, did not yet know how deep the snow went.

Hyla saw the trouble coming.

Scheuler tried to talk the youth down slowly, pointing out similar proposals that had been made and why they all ended in failure, but the otter would hear nothing of it. He spooled out reasons on the spot as to why he would be different. Scheuler's calmness only seemed to infuriate him more, and soon the otter was yelling.

In his anger, he picked up a glass of water from his side of the table and flung it directly at Scheuler.

It never reached the porcupine. Hyla snatched the glass from the air.

The youth looked to her as if seeing her for the first time and shrank back. Hyla was snarling, loudly. Her growl rumbled beneath them. Each snarl was louder than the last, each breath quicker and faster. The youth finally panicked and fled the room, leaving half of his supplies behind.

Hyla felt herself relax, bit by bit, as if every nerve was telling the next to stand down. She set the glass on the table and went back to her pose from before: arms at her side, staring at the far wall.

The porcupine's hand touched her shoulder. "You would not have attacked him, would you?" Scheuler asked.

"I would." It was true. The youth had the impetuosity that would put others at needless risk, that would people killed. Hyla had felt the overwhelming urge to slap him. But she knew there was no way it would end with just a slap. She'd want to keep hitting him. She wouldn't want to stop. For all that the House of Totukepsan had changed her, the bloodlust still sang its honey-sweet song.

"Perhaps I have made a mistake. I should have hired you for a bodyguard."

"I do not do that kind of work."

"I was under the impression that once hired--"

"You were mistaken," Hyla said sharply.

The rat servants cringed at this, but Scheuler simply nodded. "It has been a long day. I am ready to relax for the evening." He stood, while his servants packed away his things, and tugged on the chain to Hyla's collar. She got up and followed him.

He led her out of the hotel and down a side path into a part of the House she had not visited before. There were still many buildings she was not familiar with.

The porcupine turned at the entrance to one and, with a look of a man finally getting a chance to enjoy himself, walked inside.

But Hyla stopped dead when she heard the noises coming from the darkened interior. The clash of steel on steel. The shouts. The thunk of a fist landing against a body. The cheers.

Scheuler reappeared at the entrance, pulling a little harder on the chain. "Come along, slave," he said.

"No."

He looked at her with an impatient expression. "I said come along."

"No!" Hyla jerked backwards, yanking the chain attached to her so hard that the porcupine yelped and let go. He clutched his hands in pain and there was a terrible moment where Hyla worried that she had broken one of the few inviolate rules of the House of Totukepsan.

Scheuler rubbed at his wrist and then pulled out his telescoping rod. He extended it and tapped it in front of Hyla. The rats busied themselves setting out the small stepladder to put him on even height with her. When they were eye to eye, he reached out and gingerly placed his hands on her cheeks, stroking up until his hands were on her ears. It was only then that she noticed them twitching with every clang of metal from the building beyond.

He then stepped down, tapped the stepladder for it to be taken away, and began to lead Hyla down a different path. She followed, staggering slightly, disoriented. A part of her mind was still back before the building with the sounds of battle. Her hands reflexively clenched around the haft of an axe that wasn't there.

So when the badger finally looked at her surroundings again, she found herself in a leatherworker's shop. She had passed by the proprietor before but never entered the shop. Scheuler and the owner were engaged in quick and animated discussion of something he wanted. He kept gesturing back to Hyla, and every now and then the leatherworker would pull out a piece of tape and take a measurement of her. Then, once both were satisfied, Scheuler took Hyla around the corner to a restaurant for dinner while they waited for his order to be quickly made.

They returned sated but not too full. There the leatherworker showed off a quickly made hood, meant to cover all of Hyla's head except for her muzzle. She realized that while wearing it she would be completely blind and substantially deaf. The hood was not a particularly pretty thing: it lacked the finesse of careful attention, but it would serve its purpose for now.

Hyla, at Scheuler's instruction, knelt down so the hood could be fitted on. The base of it connected with the collar by straps. And as the leatherworker adjusted the hood into position, Hyla felt her world constrict. She saw nothing but blackness, and only the loudest sounds, muffled and deadened, made it to her ears.

She swayed once as she stood, but felt Scheuler's steadying hand on her hip. There was a tug on the chain leading to her collar and she followed him back out into the street. She moved cautiously, with her weight low and her feet gliding along the ground as she would in a close quarters fight. She felt turned around on the streets, unsure where exactly she was, but trusting in Scheuler enough to know he would not walk her headlong into a wall.

When at last the porcupine stopped, she knew where they were: standing outside the pit fighters' den once again. This time there was no clang of steel to grate on her ears. There was hardly a sound at all, and she felt more from the rumbling of the wood under her feet. Even then, the badger occasionally felt the thud in the ground that told her a body had hit the floor hard.

But the blackness in her mind stayed at bay. She tried to turn her head to where she thought the porcupine stood, and nodded to him.

The chain was pulled once more and she entered.

Hyla could feel the weight of other people around her, occasional bits of fur or cloth that brushed past her. She tried to put it out of her mind. Thankfully, Scheuler quickly headed for a quieter area, and then up a flight of stairs.

Hyla did not know the layout of the building, but given what she knew of other facilities at the House of Totukepsan, she could guess. There would have been a large arena in the center of the main floor, surrounded by tables for patrons. Food and drink would be brought in from the adjoining restaurant. Then, on higher floors, there would be private viewing boxes for those wanting to spend a little extra. Scheuler, who could afford to spend a lot extra, took her to what she guessed was the premier private room, with the best view of the fighting down below.

She tried not to think of the fighting.

Thankfully Scheuler had other ideas. She could feel the shuffle of little feet as the two rats left them to their privacy. And private it was. Hyla knew that from their vantage point, Scheuler could see out over the entire building if he wished, but anyone else would have difficulty seeing in.

The floor of the little room was covered in pillows with soft linen draped overtop. The stomps of feet and banging of tables no longer reverberated up through her legs. She imagined the sounds here would be equally dampened. And when Scheuler pushed her down to kneel, there was no stress or ache in her joints, despite having been in a similar position most of the day.

The badger was surprised when she felt the porcupine move behind her. Small hands touched the nape of her neck and stroked down to her shoulders. It was, Hyla realized, a clumsy attempt at a massage. There was no skill in his hands or fingers. He was someone who talked and thought for a living and she got the impression the most physical exertion required from his profession was signing his name.

All the same, it was his fumbling that made her realize just how tense she was. She was constantly on her guard, ready to hear the shout of battle, ready to duck and dodge, ready to retaliate, ready to kill.

She took a deep breath and tried to let go. It was hard. She kept expecting a strike to come out of the darkness. Without even meaning to, she had lifted herself slightly from a full kneeling position, ready to spring into action.

But no blow came. She wasn't on the battlefield.

Hyla reached up to her shoulder and put a hand on the porcupine's own. She guided it down the curve of her shoulder and her side before pulling it around her midriff, forcing Scheuler closer to her. He came forward willingly and as his chest pressed into her back, she felt that he had undressed partially, soft underfur against her.

The porcupine continued to hold her while rubbing at her shoulder and upper back. He leaned in and planted a soft kiss along the crook of her neck. With each of his slow and steady breaths, her own quieted and calmed.

Scheuler adjusted the two of them, sliding Hyla down to lay on her side with him just behind her. He slowly extracted himself from the close contact, until all that was left of him touching her was a single claw tracing figures over her hip.

Then that too vanished and there was nothing but darkness and the feel of the soft pillows beneath her, which let her distantly track where Scheuler was in relation to her. The porcupine had crept around to her front and sat far enough away that he was not directly touching her. She reached out to him, but he took her wrist and brought it back to her side before letting go.

She became very conscious of the slow pace of her own breathing. The darkness had wrapped her up like a blanket.

Which was why she barely reacted when her breast was sharply prodded.

It felt like a claw, or a needle, but it took her a moment to realize it was in fact one of Scheuler's own quills, filed down so as not to be nearly so dangerous. But the effect was to contract Hyla's world down smaller still. There was just her breast and there was just the sharp, but not painful, sensation that lit up her nerves.

A moment later it lifted away and was placed down again nearby. New nerves were activated and Hyla's focus was pulled to the new spot with the force of iron and steel. The spot the quill had left ached in a pleasing way.

Scheuler kept the quill moving, stippling her breast. He drew out a pattern like a four-petaled flower around her breast. When it reached the start, he somehow knew the exact spot where he had begun, and the quill landed there again setting off fireworks in her mind. He kept tracing out the same design over and over.

Each loop made Hyla, with her concentration so focused, acutely aware of the one place Scheuler avoided: her nipples. Never before had her breasts felt so sensitive, and he was ignoring the spot calling out hardest for attention.

After so long that Hyla had begun to lose track of time, there was finally a blissful soothing sensation of a mouth wrapping around her nipple. Sharp teeth and an agile tongue worked in concert to pull all the focused attention caused by the quill from her breast out to the tip, where the pleasure burned so intensely that Hyla felt she would orgasm from it alone.

The badger realized belatedly that she had scooped up Scheuler in her arms to pull him closer to her, and was clutching him so tightly she was probably making it difficult for the porcupine to breathe. She forced herself to let go, but spent a moment before returning to her position on the floor to feel his undressed body. Her hands ran down his back and felt the plait his quills had been woven into, and then around his side, feeling the soft flesh that, unlike hers, had not been hardened by years of physical exertion, and then down to his hips to feel the naked shaft that pulsed in the air.

When she laid back down, Scheuler rolled her fully onto her back and straddled her waist. While he felt small and light on her, she could also feel the weight and heat of his shaft. Hyla took a breath with a slight shudder as she felt him reach out and start to tease her other breast in the same way. Just because she knew what to expect did not make it any less intense, and as he plied over her with pinpricks from the quill, her unattended breast still throbbed in desire. Quickly the feeling of his weight on her was forgotten as her world once more shrunk to the scope of pleasure points on her breast.

This time, when his lips found her nipple, there was also a hand pressed to her muzzle. She felt a finger along her lips, holding there, and reminding her to be quiet. She hadn't realized how loud or lewd her moaning had gotten. It was tough. She suppressed the urge to writhe under him as his teeth grazed along her flesh and only relaxed when he had pulled away.

Scheuler stood up and walked around to kneel over her head. His shaft was slowly fed in between her lips and she tasted the sweet and salty musk of him as she ran her tongue along his length. Being as he was a fair bit shorter than her, his shaft fit comfortably inside her muzzle with enough room for her to play with it and employ her own growing skills.

Scheuler bent forward and placed his hands openly on her breasts. The attention of the quill before had left them so sensitive she imagined she could feel the individual strands of fur on his fingers as he groped her. The large rough pads on his palms rubbed over her nipples with surprising care. Orgasming too fast was frowned on, so Hyla tried to distract herself. She placed her hands on the porcupine's hips and pushed him into a gentle rhythm of thrusting into her mouth. There was a throb of his shaft and a grind of his hips, but not the urgent thrust of need she was hoping for: he was as distracted by teasing her as she was by being teased.

His attentions expanded. He had focused mostly on her nipples and areolas and worked down until he was groping over her breasts, using both hands on one at a time as they were so large in his grasp. And then, once he had thoroughly explored both, he pulled out the quill again and began to prick his way gently down her body. He drew strange geometric patterns along her belly, swooping arcs and tight triangles. She shivered every time his quill drew near to his hips, but his art would not be denied, and he always moved away again to complete his designs.

Scheuler slid off of her head to get himself into a better position, and Hyla, tentatively, reached out to him. She placed a hand on his hip, fascinated by the experience of exploring who someone was by her sense of touch alone. And he did not mind when she slid a hand between his legs and found his shaft, slick but not dripping. She stroked it gently with the insistent hope that he would stop teasing her and finally touch her sex directly.

However, The porcupine's teasing had not finished yet. He approached her sex, but diverted at the last moment, running his quill down a leg, then down the other. He started to bounce from one to the other, tighter and tighter until finally his quill stopped just above her clit. Hyla's breath was catching in her throat and she trembled from top to bottom.

With aching slowness he lifted the quill up and set it down directly on her clit. But he did not press in without the protection of her fur. He twirled the quill so that the badger could feel the filed barbs against her bare skin. She nearly jumped when his other hand touched her sex and spread her labia wide, each lip pulled and stretched. With these new sensitive surfaces to work with, he began to work his way down one labia and up the other with the quill, prodding and teasing in looping, backtracking patterns that left her hips shuddering and her sex clenching down on nothing but air.

The quill probed between her folds, brushing along the entrance to her sex. Hyla clamped a hand over her mouth to keep herself quiet and fought to keep her hips still. Scheuler's thumb was on her clit, flicking it back and forth.

The quill was tossed aside and Hyla felt two fingers dive deep into her oh-so-wet sex, curling inside her as he continued strumming her clit. He did not need to thrust or grind. The mere act of inserting his fingers was enough to push her over the edge and into a trembling orgasm.

As the badger took deep heaving breaths, she could feel all the spots the quill had prodded her, like a map on her body pointing to every center of pleasure. She found her hand tracing along those same curves, giving quiet groans into the pillows.

Having brought Hyla off, the porcupine's attention turned to the arena on the floor below. Hyla spent a while alone in the darkness, recovering, before she felt her way to him and got him off, quickly and perfunctorily in her mouth while he was distracted. He stroked her head in thanks.

There she remained, head in his lap, until his stroking grew slow and his breathing grew deep and it was clear he was ready for bed. He dressed and tugged on her chain. It felt like a huge weight lay on her shoulders, not because she was tired, but because the contentment of orgasm and the comforting darkness lay all around her. The badger followed Scheuler sluggishly, no longer worried about being in the pit fighters' building.

Until something went wrong.

Scheuler stopped suddenly in front of her, so that Hyla nearly stepped straight into his quills. There was a commotion around them. She couldn't hear it, but she could feel the presence of bodies around her, pressing in from all sides.

A hand pushed her side, but she didn't lash out. She didn't know who it was. She wasn't sure that she could keep Scheuler safe if she struck out. Distantly, Hyla could hear a raised voice. Then more shoves. And finally a pair of hands were on the hood and ripping it off of her.

Light stabbed her eyes, dim though it was. She blinked and looked around.

They were surrounded. On all sides there were more of the pit fighters, closing in around Hyla and Scheuler. Their leader, a cougar wearing little more than bright polished pauldrons and gauntlets, was conversing with Scheuler. "Just a little exhibition. That's all we want."

"No," the porcupine said insistently. But there was a worried look in the corner of his eye.

"Come now," the cougar returned with a laugh. "We've all heard the stories of the great badger warriors and now here there's one in our midst. We have to see you fight." He said this directly to Hyla.

Scheuler glanced over his shoulder, but Hyla shook her head.

"Worried you'll lose?" the pit fighter taunted.

Hyla decided that honesty was the best option. "I'm worried I would kill you all."

He laughed. They all laughed. Even the audience laughed. Everyone laughed except for her and Scheuler. "I really think you underestimate our abilities."

Hyla glanced down. In one hand the fighter held a sword, but he had the tip of it jabbed into the floorboards and was idly worrying it into the ground to give his hands something to do, dulling the tip. "No. I do not."

The cougar retorted with something he thought was witty, but Hyla was no longer paying attention. She had glanced around the room, and despite the gloom, something had caught her eye. A fox among the pit fighters wore a tattered soldier's uniform, patched and repatched so that very little of the original armor was still in place. Beneath it, almost hidden by the makeshift straps, was an icon: the image of a silver wolf on a white background, so that the icon itself seemed to disappear except when the light caught it just right. Hyla knew that icon. The shape of it had been drilled into her brain with the force of grief and pain.

The badger warrior raised her hand and pointed to the soldier. "I'll fight him," she said.

There was a brief protest from the other pit fighters.

"Fight starts now," she said.

Hyla yanked the heavy chain out of the porcupine's unresisting arm. Around her, weapons were drawn, but slow. Far too slow.

Before blades had left their scabbards, Hyla had thrown the chain high over head. She gripped near the base and swung the chain in a sharp short arc, so the length of it smashed into the ground in front of her with enough force to crack the heavy floorboards. Around her fighters yelped in surprise and dived away, barely making it in time as Hyla whirled the chain in the air, making it whistle dangerously before sending it crashing down into the ground again, this time mere inches from her target.

The fox did not just wear a soldier's uniform. He moved like one. In one instant he had assessed the situation, and the next he was dodging back out of the way of the incoming blow. His motions were practiced to the point of second nature, but they were flawed here. He left his flank unprotected, expecting that spot to be filled by his comrades-in-arms. But that wasn't the way pit fighters moved, and so he was vulnerable. Hyla aimed two quick strikes with the chain to either side of him, forcing him back down into the room's central arena.

Someone on the other side of the room applauded. They thought the next performance was starting.

A circle of steel surrounded Hyla. The pit fighters had drawn their weapons, but the chain from Hyla's collar whirled like a flail in the air, with a reach greater than any of them. Someone tried to stab her with a spear. Hyla simply diverted the chain into the path of the weapon and the swift metal snapped the wood of the spear without slowing. Someone else tried to dart in with a sword and the chain knocked it out of its wielder's hands and sent it spinning into a distant part of the room.

The circle drew to a close, cutting her off from the fox. "No," she growled. She threw the chain in an odd direction and the pit fighters, stupidly, followed it, expecting an attack. But instead she lunged forward at the two who had gotten in her way. She moved fast enough to get in under their guard before they could retaliate, and struck them under the jaw before tossing their dazed bodies out of the way.

She could feel the darkness seething in her mind. Her blood surged. It sang to her. It told her such delicious lies. Hyla knew it would not be long before she lost control. So she took three simple words and burned them into her being, repeating them over and over through every action.

The circle had reformed around her. She was now in the center of the arena, with the fox trying to disappear into the shadows of the far wall.

From the circle, someone reached out and slashed at her leg. Idiot. The cut was shallow, barely noticeable. He hadn't slowed her in the slightest. When the fighter dodged in for another blow, she picked up him by the nape of the neck and threw him, screaming, over her shoulder.

Another fighter raised a sword high overhead. Too high. Hyla aimed a quick jab to his exposed throat, and he went down, gasping for breath.

A fighter swung a club at her. A stick, really. She caught it midswing and snapped the wood in two.

When she tried to take another step she felt a tug at her neck. The leader of the pit fighters was standing on the chain, grinning, as though he had gained some sort of advantage. Hyla simply jerked the chain out from under his insignificant weight, sending the cougar toppling onto his back.

A net was thrown, but she tore it to pieces. A spear was thrust, but she wrenched it away. A shield was held up protectively but she just used it for leverage and threw the defender aside. And every time she repeated the three words.

Too late, the pit fighters realized the problem. They were not bad at fighting, but they fought to show off. Hyla did not. They fought for the cheer of the crowd, and she fought to win. They adjusted their tactics too late. The warrior was already in a frenzy and they were already nursing too many injuries.

Impatience rose: Hyla's movements became shorter, sharper, and less caring of her combatants. Disarming was too slow. She broke wrists and shattered arms now. The force of her blows went from knocking the wind out to knocking people unconscious. Blood began to flow onto the dusty floor of the arena. The applause of the crowd had disappeared into deathly silence. And all the while, Hyla kept her eyes fixed on her target, on the small fox wearing the icon of the silver wolf.

She took a step towards him.

Someone got in front of her. She dispatched them with a fist to the side of their face, sending them cartwheeling. Three words.

She took another step.

Someone else stepped in front of her. She aimed two quick punches to the chest, felt a rib break, and let him fall. Three words

She took another step.

Someone in her way: muzzle broken. Three words.

She took another step.

Someone in her way: knee snapped. Three words.

She took another step.

She was on the fox. She grabbed him and hauled him against the wall and aimed a punch. She yelled as she sent it flying, not at him, but at the wall beside him. The thin woodwork there splintered under her knuckles.

Three words. "Speak or die," she yelled and let loose another punch. This one hit closer.

The fox screamed.

A dagger buried itself into Hyla's thigh. Without loosing her grip on the fox, she yanked the dagger out, shoved it back into the shoulder of her attacker, and with their body still impaled on their own blade, kicked them clear to the other side of the arena.

Three words. "Speak or die." Another punch. This one clipped the edge of the fox's ear.

"Anything. I'll tell you anything," the man was pleading.

Three words. "Speak or die."

Hyla lifted her arm, readied for another blow, the killing blow.

And found she could not move it again.

Her head whirled. The coyote was there, holding her back.

She let the fox go and whirled on him. She brought her free hand in for a blow to the side of his face. It should have taken his head clean off. It should have snapped his neck. Instead, it bounced off, like she had struck a statue. She swatted at his head over and over again, she tried to bury her claws in his eyes, but her blows did not even ruffle his fur. In frustration, she gripped his neck and roared in his face.

He raised his hands and she moved to bat them aside, only to find him holding her arm, his hands and fingers just as immovable as the rest of him. She scrabbled at the ground, trying to wrench herself out of his grasp, but nothing worked.

Then he leaned forward and brought his hands down. There was nothing she could do to resist the motion. He was as relentless and unstoppable as an avalanche.

It brought her to her knees and shoved her face into the ground. He knelt against her shoulder and pinned her.

And slowly, finally, with nothing left for it to do, the bloodlust receded. She panted and growled, but she remembered herself.

"I hope," the channeler said slowly, "that you do not intend to make a habit of breaking trades around me?"

Hyla was still breathing hard. Her thoughts were so sluggish and her blood was so quick. The blackness swirled, calling out for more. And it would have been so easy to just give in and be just as awful as it knew she was.

To be a coward.

She gritted her teeth and turned all her fighting inward to hold down the urges within her. "Had to... signal you... Couldn't... stop myself..."

The coyote turned his head slightly and looked at the carnage. Every one of the pit warriors was splayed out. Only a few were groaning, most had been knocked into unconsciousness. "I will note a surprising lack of death. A few broken bones and several stab wounds, but nothing fatal." His ear turned as he heard footsteps approaching.

Scheuler was there, weaving his way over the bodies in the arena. He stopped just short of the coyote and bowed ever so slightly. "Great Totukepsan, my most sincere apologies. I'm afraid my slave for the day had slipped my grasp."

The coyote's grip relaxed on Hyla's wrists, and when she did not make any sudden moves, he released her completely and turned his attention to the porcupine. "Per Scheuler Mounstalvon, you have honored my House by bringing your business to me." He glanced at Hyla. "But you did request our fiercest and wildest slave. We should have seen to her training more thoroughly."

"Nonsense. She performed exceptionally. I merely let my arthritis--"

"Please," Hyla begged as quietly as she could. "Stop talking." She knew they were important people trying to keep the other from losing face publicly after the disaster she had caused. But all they were doing was pouring white hot guilt down her throat and making the blackness in her mind roil. It took all her strength not to retch.

The coyote and porcupine shared a look and nodded solemnly to one another. Then Totukepsan knelt down to be on Hyla's level, still on the ground. "Are you under control?"

"I am now, Master."

"Good." He held up his hands to address the crowd around them. "As you know, the rules of trades apply just as much to gods as they do to people. Strength in one moment must be balanced by weakness in another." He looked down at Hyla, smiled, and then crumpled to the ground as though he had suddenly lost all control of his limbs.

Hyla scrambled to her feet and hoisted the coyote back, pulling one of his arms around her neck to make it look as though he were using her to help himself stand, even though she could feel no strength at all in his limbs.

It was around this time when the House guards finally arrived, brought by the commotion that Hyla had caused. They began escorting the crowd out, but when they tried to move some of the injured fighters, the coyote waved them off for now. They tried to escort Scheuler off as well, but he insisted on staying.

Once the guests had left, the coyote nudged Hyla's shoulder with the tip of his muzzle. "Now," he said. "Explain."

Hyla continued to support him and used one hand to gesture at the fox, still panic-stricken and wedged against a wall, trying to appear very small. "His armor. Right shoulder. It's the icon of the silver wolf."

The coyote looked. The fox looked too. And then he slapped a hand over the icon, as if to hide it.

"Do you work for him?" the coyote asked.

"No, I don't. I swear I never--"

Somewhere in the depths of the coyote's unusually dark shadow, a voice hissed out. "Liar."

The fox swallowed. He took a shaky breath and tried again. "I don't anymore," he said, carefully this time. "I never wanted to."

"You will tell us all that you know," Totukespan said. "If you are honest, it is possible there will be no further consequences."

"Of course. Of course." The fox's head bobbled as he nodded, happy to be let off with so little a request.

With the weakest of prods to her shoulder, Totukepsan indicated to Hyla to turn them both so he could face Scheuler. "Per Mounstalvon, now I must ask you to explain why my slave was brought here." Hyla noticed him emphasize "my."

The porcupine nodded. "I wished to view the evening matches. Hyla informed me of her distaste for these facilities, and so I had her wear this hood while inside, which worked well for both of us." He did not mention how she had nearly injured him before. "When we went to leave, the fighters accosted us, wanting to challenge her. They tore off her hood, which was when she saw the gentlemen there." He indicated the fox.

The coyote's weight shifted. Suddenly he was supporting more of his weight. "Which of them did this?"

"They were all involved in one manner or another. But it was this one who was the instigator and pressured Hyla the most." He indicated the prone and moaning figure beside him, the cougar. Hyla realized he was the one she had stabbed in the shoulder near the end of her time raging.

There was a shudder in the air. The coyote stood tall. He lifted a hand and flicked his fingers and the air around them all seemed to become a physical force, lifting the cougar up and flinging him against the wall next to the fox. There he was held, pinned. Eyes and mouths flickered open along the body of the coyote and, Hyla thought she saw one or two appear on the cougar as well. The fighter looked half-delirious from his earlier injuries and this new surreal experience.

"You have forgotten the rules!" boomed the god in a voice that shook the floor beneath them and made even Hyla clap her hands over her ears. "No one works at the House of Totukepsan unless they choose to. No one serves unless they choose to. And no one fights unless they choose to. I will heal the wounds of you and your men, but should your judgment lapse again, even once, all their injuries will be returned at once." And here the voice paused for just a moment. "But they will all be returned to you."

The coyote god snapped his fingers and a wave of power washed off him. The leader of the pit fighters fell to the ground, staring in disbelief at the god, while all around them, the fighters groaned and started to awaken.

The god turned and looked at Hyla, then seemed to realize something. All of a sudden, he collapsed to the ground once more and Hyla had to heft him back up to standing. It was as though he had forgotten he was supposed to be weak.

"Per Mounstalvon, I'm afraid I require Hyla for the rest of the night. You will, of course, be compensated."

The porcupine bowed, but despite the implicit dismissal, he remained to ask a question. "Hyla Brokenfang, will you be all right?"

She looked through his snobbish spectacles, at the knowledgeable porcupine underneath. "Yes, sir," she said with certainty she did not feel.

Then the coyote turned his gaze to the fox. "Come, let us go and discuss the silver wolf."

* * *

There were guards at the door.

Hyla recognized them. They were the same ones who had overseen her when she had first arrived at the House of Totukepsan. The little building they were in was not too different from the room she had been chained in, except that there was a table surrounded by long benches. On the table was a map of the continent, detailed enough to include major and minor cities.

Hyla studied the map closely. She had been taught some geography as a kit. She knew the basic swaths of territory but little more. To the north of the continent, on the taigas and tundras, were the badger lands. To the west were the otters, with their Court of Snow ruling over the coastline and out into the ocean. To the east were two adjoining kingdoms, the bats inland and the foxes on the coast. Centrally were the wolf lands, sprawling in size but with no central authority, similar to the badger lands. To the southeast was a region known colloquially as the Allied Territories, where Scheuler had come from, and to the southwest a sprawling and sparsely populated desert. Hyla found her eyes drawn here, trying to find the Barsenad Forest and see if she could find Colfor's home.

The fox was still taking deep gulps of beer to steady his nerves, so Hyla asked, "Where are we?"

The coyote beside her tapped the map, in the heart of the wolf lands. There, in tight small script, was written "Anaros."

Hyla considered this for a moment and eventually her curiosity got the better of her, despite it being godstuff. "Totukepsan?"

The channeler started, unused to being addressed in that way. An extra set of eyes opened on his forehead and stared at her curiously. "Yes?"

"Are you one of the wolves' gods?"

He nodded.

"Are you actually a coyote or is that just your channeler?"

"I am a coyote as well." He returned his eyes on the map, not meeting the badger's gaze. "It is not so odd. There are gods among the badger pantheon who are not badgers themselves. Yakil, for instance."

Hyla crossed her arms and stared at the god. There was more to this and she would wait until she heard it.

He sighed. "Get Azair to tell you the story. It is not one I enjoy." He was unusually short with his words.

She kept her arms crossed. She kept staring.

"Fine," he said resignedly. "The story goes that when the gods received their gifts, the wolves, as the most graceful and wise, got first pick. By the time they were done and coyotes could have their chance, all that was left were things deemed unsuitable for beautiful wolf hands."

And if the wolf gods were anything like badger gods, Hyla guessed they still considered Totukepsan unsuitable. "Sounds like gods."

"No," he said with a touch of anger in his voice, "it doesn't. Now are you quite ready?" This last question was directed to the fox.

The fox choked on the beer he had been served and swallowed it down in a great gulp before nodding.

Totukepsan straightened. "Then what can you tell us about the silver wolf?"

The fox took several more swallows of nothing but air to clear his throat. "I, uh--first of all, you should know, I've never met him." He paused here, expecting to be called a liar, but no sound came from the coyote's shadow. "To be honest, I don't even know if he's real, although everyone talked about him like he was."

"Where are you from?" the coyote asked, trying to get the fox back on track.

"Hiedartos," the fox said, reaching out to point to a spot on the far north end of the wolf territory. "We were very small, barely more than a waypoint for caravans trying to make the journey across the badlands."

The badlands. A wide expanse in the middle of the continent, bordering the badgers to the north, wolves to the south, otters to the west, and bats to the east. It had no permanent settlements. Too few resources, too many monsters.

"Were you a hunter?" Hyla asked.

He shook his head. "No. I always thought the hunters were fools. I've seen what monsters can do. You just try and stay out of their way. I was town militia, nothing more."

That matched what she remembered of his fighting style.

"Was? What happened?" the coyote probed.

The fox stared mournfully down at his drink and slugged the remainder of it hoping to dull the memories. "A raiding party came in. We get bandits on occasion, poor blighters who try and eke out a living on the edge of the badlands. But they're never more than a dozen strong, poorly armed, just sneaking in for scraps. This was different. They knew how to fight, for one. And they were better armed and more numerous than we were. We surrendered quickly. They swept in and pillaged us for most of our supplies, and then told us that unless a portion of us joined their ranks, they'd kill everyone. Pretty easy trade if you ask me."

Totukepsan grimaced at this.

"I volunteered. I thought it was just some new bandit lord and they'd sweep through the land without turning around. At some point I could ditch them and head back home. But I quickly realized that wasn't the case. We were sending back supplies, lots of supplies, everything but the essentials we needed. We weren't bandits: we were the advance wing of an army. We were the scouts. If I tried to go home, I'd run straight into a different, bigger force. And, well, they had made quite the show of the other deserters they'd caught before.

"So instead I waited until I had the perfect chance, split off from the rest of the group, and then I ran south, out of the way they were traveling and out of the way they had come. I kept running until I reached Anaros. I thought I was far enough away that... and with you here..." He was having trouble completing his thoughts, shivering slightly.

"How did the silver wolf figure into this?"

The fox laughed weakly. "We all knew that there was something more going on they were telling us about. The leaders of the raiding group pretended they were in charge, but if you paid close attention to what they whispered when they thought no one could hear them, they talked about him. The silver wolf. He was the real leader."

"What about him? Where is he? What is--" Hyla felt a calming hand placed on her shoulder.

The fox frowned and stared down at the map without seeing it, trying to think. "They didn't say much. But they made him sound invincible, like he'd never lost a fight. And we started to feel that way too. It was like we were lucky all the time. Everything fell our way." He shivered at a sudden memory. "But then there were his lieutenants, the ones pretending to be the leaders. They were loyal, like nothing I'd ever seen, and they were testing us to make sure we would be just as loyal. And those that weren't, they got the most dangerous assignments. Most of them died. That probably would have been me too if I hadn't run. Fuck them. I'm glad I'm out."

"And yet you kept his symbol," Totukepsan pointed out, gesturing to the icon on the fox's shoulder.

He nodded. "Down here no one knew what it meant. And the armor was real good, better than the crap I used to wear in Hiedartos. The funny thing was I was never meant to have it. It was meant for one of the oh-so-loyal lieutenants, but it didn't end up fitting him so I got it instead." He fidgeted and twiddled his thumbs. "That's all I know, I swear."

"Which way were you sending those supplies?" the coyote asked.

"Towards the badlands."

Hyla's focus drifted away from the conversation as the coyote tried picking the fox's mind for any relevant detail. Which places could he recall visiting, where were they headed, how long ago was this, and so forth. But all Hyla could feel was the seething rage inside her and her need to quell it down.

She barely noticed when the coyote finally dismissed the fox, with a command to remain in Anaros in case there was any further information he could provide. Then he dismissed the guards and took a seat opposite Hyla across the table. She only really started paying attention when his hands reached out and held hers, soft strength against the ferocious fists.

"That did not sound like what you described," the coyote remarked in a quiet voice.

Hyla shook her head. The silver wolf hadn't snuck around the badger lands. He had challenged them openly.

"His encounter with the forces of the silver wolf took place several months before he attacked your people. But this isn't just a change in tactics. He hasn't been any more open in the wolf lands."

"He was trusting in our silence."

The coyote perked an ear and listened.

"News travels slowly through the badger lands. Even an incursion on the scale of the silver wolf's wouldn't be known more than a few setts away in any direction. We..." Hyla's breath faltered for a moment as the remembrance and loss of her brother struck her again. "We had heard of him from the survivors a neighboring sett. But we saw no reason to alert those beyond."

"All this secrecy. He pretends to be just a regional warlord to the north. He pretends to lead a group of bandits to the south. He's hiding the true size of his power, just exposing what is required to increase it, conquering by bits and pieces."

Hyla's fist slammed into the table, and the coyote sprang back slightly, surprised. "Hyla?"

"I can't do it," she said, through clenched teeth.

"Can't do what?"

"I can't kill him. Not on my own. If it were just one company he had under his command, I could have fought my way to him, even if it killed me. But I can't fight my way through an entire army." She felt her chance to avenge her brother slipping out from under her.

He did not comment except to place a hand over her fist and waited until her anger had abated enough. When she looked up to him, she saw him staring at the map with a worried expression, ears splayed.

"What is it?" she asked.

The coyote traced a path along the map. "I was wondering why the 'bandits' went this way. There are other, better targets they could have attacked. Also, if he is in the badlands, why attack the badgers? You're the fiercest warriors in the world. Why not go after the otters, who have a much weaker army? Or the bats, who have hardly any army at all? The only thing that the badger lands and this part of the wolf lands have in common is that they are completely out of the territory of any active gods or witches."

"He's hiding himself from all of you," Hyla said, understanding immediately. And despite her own distrust of the gods, she felt an ominous presence in the contours of the map.

Next time: Hyla Brokenfang and the Secret-Keeper