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"No doubt about it, these are northern made."

The muster hall of the Order Chapterhouse was lit by a handful of lanterns, and a powerful glow rune above a thick, oaken table in the centre of the room. The heavy scent of must and tobacco smoke hung in the air, thick as fog. Rain pattered against the grunge covered windows, and every once in a while an eerie whistling from the storm outside echoed through the mostly empty room.

Jace scowled as he crossed his arms. He, along with half a dozen Order deputies were gathered around the table, variously muttering and picking at an assortment of guns, both pistols and rifles, laid out in front of them. The guns, along with a wide variety of bladed weapons, had all been recovered from the ruins of the rebel hideout. Most were little more than broken pieces, having been shattered against the cave wall when the rebel leader's rifle had exploded, though there were a handful that were still in workable order.

Edmund Duke stood at the table across from Jace, his left arm in a sling, and a number of bandages upon his face and neck.

Lillyvale's blacksmith, runesmith, and a local weapons expert, were also present.

"You're certain?" Jace demanded, turning to the weapons expert.

Herbert Meadows was an ancient wisp of a man, his body bent and gnarled from a long life. His hair was white as cotton, and his glasses held lenses that were almost as thick as Jace's finger. His expertise on weapons was significant, as was his personal collection, which was something of a local legend. While Jace tended to despise weapons fetishists like Herbert, for the time being at least, he needed the old man's expertise.

Herbert looked down the sights of the rifle again, running his fingers over the metal barrel. "Mhmmm. Northern made, I'd stake my reputation on it."

"But the markings say these were built in Halcyon," one of the order agents beside Edmund Duke pointed out. "By Locklow and Finch, in the eighteenth precinct."

Herbert straightened his glasses with a grim smile. "Oh they've done a good job of trying to hide it, got just about everything perfect. But there's no doubt in my mind, this weapon was built by the northern federation. In Graize most likely, judging by the metal quality."

"How can you tell?" The blacksmith asked, peering down at his own weapon.

"Simple." Herbert set the rifle down and picked up two smaller fragments. "Look here boy, you see these screws? We use four point screws, the federation uses five. Then o' course there 're these springs, in the feeding mechanism, they're twisted anti clockwise, not made in Halcyon."

Jace's frown darkened. "So Graize is supplying weapons to rebel cells."

"Yep. Did all they could to hide it, changed out the wood on the stock, made sure there were no markings, no numbers. Sneaky buggers even flipped the spark rune 'round, but forgot, or just didn't bother, replacing the inner hardware."

"They used the same kind of catalyst crystal we use as well." The runesmith added, examining a burned out hunk of crystal. "Northern crystal tends to come from the western regions of the Shiyan plane, it has a different kind of lustre and feel. This material... it could have only come from the eastern mines."

Jace nodded slowly. "Mmmm, which I s'pose means they're gettin' the material fer these weapons from our own crystal shipments." His brow furrowed. "That there might be a be problem."

Whistling through his teeth, one of the order deputies shook his head. "Well damn, if the feddies are arming rebels... we could find ourselves up to our necks in shit once this war starts."

The runesmith tossed the burned out hunk of crystal onto the table. "Ain't no one s'posed to even see this crystal 'fore it reached Halcyon once it gets out the mines. If the feddies have their hands stuck up the caravan company's rear end... Lord help us."

As the man spoke, Edmund Duke's face began to turn red.

Another deputy shuddered. "By the Lord, can you even imagine what the pelts would do if they managed to get their hands on enough weapons?"

"I don't believe it." Edmund Duke spoke up, stepping towards the table, his face red with anger. "There is no way that anyone could get these many weapons past the Order."

"Didn't t' pelts create a whole rebel cell right under yer nose?" Herbert remarked, tossing the broken bits onto the table with a loud clatter. "Don't seem like a few crates of rifles would be such a challenge compared t' that."

"A few springs and screws don't prove anything!"

"Chief, get hold of yerself," Jace barked. "Yer efforts to secure this area have been jus' fine. Ain't no one is blaming you for this mess."

"I still don't believe it." Edmund raised his chin. "The Lord is with us, and she would never allow Federation scum to besmirch this holy land."

"She didn't stop t' pelts from organising, and she didn't protect any of you during the battle." Herbert shrugged, as he straightened his jacket.

Edmund puffed out his chest. "With all due respect, sir, you'd do well to remember that you're in the presence of an agent of the Illuminant Chain!"

"In fact, make that two agents."

Jace turned as Dallet stepped into the muster hall and approached the table. Dallet's head was wrapped in a bandage, his normally well kept hair sticking out from beneath the cloth in random directions. He also walked with a slight limp, though Jace could tell he was doing everything he could to hide it.

'Looks like he's hurting bad,' Jace pondered, watching as Dallet approached. 'Then again, if his shield hadn't been up when the rabbit's gun went off, he'd have been little more than a smoking smear on the rock.'

"The chief is right." Dallet continued, his eyes flashing as he glared at Herbet. "If I were you, sir, I'd be cautious with my words, especially ones that run so close to blasphemy."

"Evening Dallet, good to see you're finally up an' about." Jace nodded.

"And what did I miss?"

"We've been lookin' at weapons the rebels were using-" Jace picked up one of the rifles and tossed it to Dallet, who caught it with the slightest flicker of a grimace. "Federation made."

"The Federation?" Dallet examined the weapon for a moment. "Well, that's certainly something. What about the rabbit, and his bloody runic weapon."

"Got our hands on some news 'bout that as well." Jace nodded at Emdund. "Chief Duke, would kindly enlighten my comrade in what you found?"

"Of course." Edmund cleared his throat. "Well, the rebel leader was a slave named Raid, a lapine from the Hartford Ranch, three miles outside of town. It was discovered he was in a relationship with one of the ranch overseers, an

Elizabeth Watley. When their degeneracy was uncovered, Ms. Watley was of course fired, and the pelt was scheduled for culling."

"Which apparently didn't go to plan," Dallet said, his voice tinged with barely restrained rage.

"No sir. It would seem that, before she could be brought in for a hearing, Ms. Watley stole a runic rifle from Mr. Hartford's collection. She then gave the weapon to the pelt before releasing him into the swamp."

"The weapon was a family relic, left over from the Drathain war," one of the other deputies spoke up. As Edmund turned to glare at him, the deputy swallowed hard but continued. "M-Mr. Hartford claimed at uh... at the time that he believed the weapon to have become inactive many years ago."

"And the heretic? What about her?"

After silencing his deputy with a glare, Duke turned back to Dallet. "She's dead. She was killed in a shootout while setting the pelt free."

"And when, exactly, did this all happen?"

Duke cleared his throat nervously. "Three seasons ago. There was a search, but the lapine was thought to have perished in the swamps. My predecessor didn't think there was any reason to pursue it further."

"Amazing." Dallet shook his head, putting his hands on his hips. "Truly amazing, you are all to be congratulated. Never, in my entire life, have I had the occasion to witness such an astonishing display of stupidity."

The assembled deputies all looked at the floor as Dallet glared at them. Duke especially seemed as if he wanted to hide beneath the table to avoid Dallet's withering gaze.

"Had we not come to this miserable little burg, that bloody rabbit could have raized this entire town!"

Edmund's face turned an even brighter shade of red as his shoulders slumped. His right hand clenched and shook with rage.

"But we're here now," Jace interjected. "The Lord led us here fer a reason, so here we are. Ain't no use in examining the gate once the hounds are loose. Now, the question becomes, what're we to do about this?"

"Simple, we scour this place clean." Dallet's teeth ground together as he glared at Edmund. "I want you and your men to go over every single case of a slave 'disappearing' into the swamps for the last two years. I also want you to go out and round up another dozen pelts for execution. No, make that thirty pelts. We'll show the subhumans what happens when-"

"No."

Dallet blinked in surprise and looked up at Jace. "What?"

"I said, no." Jace turned to Edmund. "Look into cases of slaves escaping an' disappearing, but you will not round up any pelts for killin."

Edmund looked to Dallet, by Jace's voice cracked out like a whip.

"Don't look at him, look at me! I'm in charge here, and I'm giving you a command. No one is to be rounded up, that clear boy?"

Edmund hesitated for a moment, glancing at Jace, before bowing his head. "Yes, sir, as you command."

"Jace, we have to show the pelts that resistance-"

Jace held up his hand, though it was the look on his face that truly silenced Dallet mid-sentence. Looking around the table Jace jerked his head towards the door. "Give us the room."

Without argument, the assembled group moved towards the door, each nodding and murmuring words of respect as they walked past Jace and Dallet. Herbert was the last one to leave, closing the door behind him with a clatter that echoed through the empty assembly hall.

"I'm gonna say this once." Jace looked up at Dallet, his eyes narrowed. "This... predilection yeh have, fer random violence against the pelts, it needs to stop."

Dallet raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms and leaning against the table. "Oh?"

"You 'eard me. No more random executions, period. An' I want you t'tell yer pet, Duke, to order his men to ease up on their pelts. Keep 'em in their place, hand out the odd beating here and there, that's fine, but the rapes and the killings, those are going to stop, now."

"What, in the name of the Lord, has gotten into you?" Dallet demanded, more surprised than angered "The pelts need to learn that resistance has a price!"

"Indeed, but obedience should come with at least some promise a' safety."

Dallet took an involuntary step back from the table.

Jace reached into his jacket and withdrew a small pouch of tobacco. With practised dexterity he began to roll himself a cigarette as he spoke. "These guns ''ere, they change everything. We're on war footin' now."

"What does that even mean? Our job is to keep the animals quiet!"

"You're squeezing too hard." Jace placed a pinch of tobacco into the crease of a piece of rolling paper. "The more yeh tighten yer grip, the less control you actually have."

"The pelts need to know that supporting rebellion is a death sentence!"

Jace pulled a spark rune out of his pocket. "Oh ain't no question that they know that, but they also know one other thing."

"And what exactly is that?"

"That we can't, an' won't, kill them all."

With a flick of his fingers, Jace activated the spark rune against the end of his cigarette. Pale blue smoke curled around his face as he took a deep breath, before blowing the smoke over the table.

"Ten years back, when we were at war with Bantam, I was serving with a regiment near this little town called New Blakeney. In the town was this sharpshooter fellow, local hero and all that. He'd creep from rooftop to rooftop, taking pot shots at us as we surrounded the town. Course we had number and artillery, so after a few days, most of the enemy troops gave up. But that damned sniper, he refused. Even after most everyone was gone from the town, he just kept picking at us."

Jace looked down at his cigarette, watching the smoke trail dance as they rose into the air. "Eventually, he holed himself up in the bell tower. We hit the tower with a cannon, still kept shootin'. We surrounded the tower on all sides, pelted it day and night, nothing. Finally, we were able to set the tower on fire. That bloody sniper kept shooting, even as the tower burned away 'neath him, till eventually the flames got him an' he died screaming. You know why he did that?"

When his question was met with silence, Jace took another long drag on his cigarette. "Because, not two months back we took another town nearby. There were two sharpshooters there, an' they surrendered with the rest of the defence forces. Thing was, our commander, he weren't to find of sharpshooters, so he had the two executed. And not quickly, mind you, he made sure to send a message, the same message you're trying to send to the pelts."

"Are you suggesting that showing the pelts who's in charge will actually create rebellion?" Dallet scoffed. "You do realise that we can't simply let the pelts run amok, yes? They need to know, in no uncertain terms, that their lives are but string, and we hold the cutting shears."

"Yer not listening to me, are yeh. Fear don't work like that, never has," Jace replied, his voice calm, but with a deadly edge running beneath it. "My commander figured that the tales of those two sharpshooters screaming as they were flayed would scare off anyone else with a long gun an' a scope. Instead, it led to any sharpshooters we came across fighting to the bitter end. Cost us a lot of good men, and cost commander Balknier the better part of the left side of his 'ead."

"True..." A smile crept its way across Dallet's face. "But I am willing to wager that it also meant that, by the end of the war, Bantam didn't have any more sharpshooters either."

Jace looked up sharply. "You sayin' this is deliberate?"

"You're right, commander, the harder we squeeze, the more slips through our fingers. But what remains in our grasp will be pure, useful, and purged of any rebellious ideation. The rest simply needs to be cleaned up."

Jace took another long drag, his face cast in a deep orange hue by the embers of his cigarette. "So... you ain't a fool then, you're just crazy."

"Crazy?" Dallet raised an eyebrow. "I'm following the tenants set out by the lord herself, purifying the nonhumans of their sinful, blasphemous nature, so they may be worthy of freedom."

"And if you end up sparking off a major slave revolt in this province as a result?"

"Rebellion grows in the places where the cowardly and treacherous are too weak to seek it out. It need not grow from the will of many, but rather from those places deemed below the intention of the ignorant. Chapter four, verse seven. "

Jace frowned at the spark of religious zealotry he saw, flickering in Dallet's eyes. "Yer letting your hatred on the pelts get in the way of our mission here." Jace scoffed. "By the lord, we ain't even suppose to have a mission here! We're supposed to be heading to the chapter house in Red Lake!"

"I took care of that."

Jace paused. "What d'you mean, 'took care of it'?"

"The day we arrived I sent a letter to the bishop, letting him know that we had a problem here and that you and I were going to stay and see to correcting it."

"You went over my head?" Jace kept his gaze locked on Dallet, but his free hand drifted down towards his pistol.

"I did."

"Care to explain why?"

Reaching into his own pocket, Dallet withdrew a spark rune. "When I was living in the north, I beheld a practice that has stuck with me. There was a forest, just across the river from the city, that ran up this big sloping hill. It was beautiful, full of life, I used to love exploring it, hunting and fishing, building forts and looking for berries."

Dallet chuckled to himself as he sank into his own memories. "There was this polecat, Lucy, I called her, she'd follow me around sometimes. I'd paddle over in the morning, tie my boat to a stump, and there she'd be, begging for a scrap of lunch, or a fish from the river. Got to be real friendly with me. Thing was, she was missing one of her front legs, left one I think, and before I started feeding her, she was this tiny, scrawny thing, not even fit for skinning."

The crystal danced across Dallet's fingers. "Thing was, after I started feeding her, she got bigger, and one year, she even dug a nest for herself and had little ones, cutest little buggers you ever did see. I started bringing more and more food to share with them, got to thinking of myself as their father."

Dallet stopped flipping the rune around, staring down at the glowing symbol etched into the crystal. "One day, as I was heading to the dock to paddle over, these men stopped me. They told me I couldn't go across the river 'cause there was a fire on the hill. They told me that the fire was started on purpose, that the underbrush needed to be cleared away for the forest to survive."

The spark rune flared to life, the flame flickering in Dallet's eyes. "By the afternoon, the whole hill was engulfed in flame, then by evening it was out. Took near to a week before they let me go across the river again. I headed to

Lucy's den, and there she was, she and all her little kits, burnt up."

Dallet's gaze darkened. "I could have killed them, the men who set the fire. Lucy was the closest friend I had, it seemed so... cruel what they had done."

Extinguishing the rune with a flick of his wrist, Dallet looked up at Jace. "Thing was, they were right. By the next year, the forest had never looked better. The bigger trees survived, but all the refuse, the litter, the trees jockeying for a hint of sunlight, they were gone. Even the animals came back, deer, birds, even polecats, polecats with all four legs, who didn't need to beg for scraps, who weren't going to need someone else to feed their brood. And if they hadn't set that fire, if they hadn't cleared the brush away, when a fire did inevitably start, it would have left nothing behind." With a smile, Dallet reached up and tapped his forehead. "I've kept that lesson ever since."

"So you're trying to spark a brush fire here, in this valley?" Jace crossed his arms.

"For starters, yes." Dallet's smile widened. "I'm not like you, old timer, jaded and stuck in the past. I don't hate the pelts, not in the way you think I do. I hate this pathetic mewling, this begging and whining, hoping that we'll show them pity. Well there's no pity in flame, and I'm going to set this whole valley ablaze if I have to."

"Have you forgotten who's in command here?"

"What exactly are you complaining about?" Dallet asked. "I've followed Canon to the letter."

Jace tossed away the remains of his cigarette and drew himself up in front of Dallet. "You've been taking an awful lot of liberties, lieutenant. Now I been real patient with you, cause yer young, and stupid. You wanna play this out, fine. You wanna start a ruckus, have a fight, fine. But you best watch yourself, cause when the blood starts flowing, someone will be called to answer."

"Am I to be impressed here?" Dallet asked, evenly meeting Jace's glare. Despite his words, Dallet felt a flicker of nervousness in his gut as Jace glared at him.

Jace's eyes narrowed as he leaned closer, his nose an inch from Dallet's. "Ik now you got friends, I know the Order considers you a rising star. But... yer not so foolish as to think I don't have friends do ya?"

Dallet knew better than to answer.

"Now we'll find out who's been givin' these feddie weapons to the rebels, and we'll wipe this area clean. But you put one toe over the line, and I'll bring damnation down 'pon your head like you won't believe."

Jace turned, picked up his hat from the table, and strode towards the door. "Have the northern weapons destroyed, and keep this quiet for now."

"And what about the rebel that was captured?" Dallet asked.

"We'll see what information we can get out of it. After that, you are free to make an example out of it. String it up, burn it, skin it, I don't give a damn."

As the door slammed behind Jace, Dallet turned back to the guns on the table. Picking up one of the more intact rifles, his lips curled into a smile once more.

***

As Luke awoke, the first thing that he noticed was the smell of roasting meat. The second thing he noticed was the intense throbbing in his head. It felt as if someone had dropped his father's desk upon his head before dancing a merry jig upon it.

With a muttered curse, Luke sat up, rubbing his temples. He was still atop the stepping stone, lying upon a thick red blanket. The sky above was filled with stars, with not a hint of light on either horizon. A few steps away, the massive feline from before sat in front of a small fire, watching him intently.

"Wh-what happened?" Luke asked, pinching his nose and shaking his head.

"You had a bit too much to drink."

"I... see." Luke blinked a few times, trying to clear his blurred vision. "You... I remember you... you're... Chess, right?"

"I am."

"Oh, good, I uh... I'm Luke Windhill. Pleased to-" as Luke spoke he suddenly became aware that he was not wearing any clothes. His shirt, trousers, jacket and underwear were all missing.

"Yes, I know who you are, and I am pleased to meet you too."

"What... was that stuff you blew in my face? And why... why am I naked?"

"Humans call it: wife's whip," Chess answered with a small smile. "It's unpleasant, but effective. It does cause one to sweat rather a lot, so I removed your clothing for you."

"I uh... I see..." Luke cleared his throat as his face turned bright red. Instinctually he pulled the side of the blanket he was lying on over himself, though it was too small to do much.

"I hope you will forgive my rudeness, but I thought we should talk, and I didn't want to wait until morning for you to sober up."

Chess smiled, the firelight sparkling in her big grey eyes. "I must say, I'm surprised you remember anything. T'varo's spittlejuice is rather potent, even by human standards."

"S-spittlejuice?"

"Mhmmm."

"Is... is that what it... sounds like?"

"It's a Drathain liquor. They mix berries, nuts, sugar and various other spices into a sort of dough, chew it, spit it into a bottle, add hot water and allow it to ferment."

Luke felt his stomach start to turn as he tried, unsuccessfully, to keep the image out of his mind.

"Drathainian saliva is mildly toxic, so that along with the alcohol makes it rather... how does Rayes put it... Oh yes, 'it hits with all the good graces of a cannonball'."

Luke nodded slowly. "I... tend to agree." As his stomach grumbled, Luke raised a finger. "If you'll excuse me for a moment."

Chess chuckled to herself as Luke turned and promptly vomited onto the rock. Xia let out an unamused shriek, spreading his wings and pawing at the ground. Chess quietly shushed him, running her fingers across the trifit's feathered head.

"Don't worry, the rain will wash it away soon enough," she crooned.

Turning back, Luke took a deep breath and wiped the corners of his mouth. "Please excuse me."

"Come." Chess gestured to the fire. "Sit with me, Luke Windhill."

"I.. uh..." Luke looked down at himself, his face still burning red. He thought about asking Chess where his clothes currently were, but even that thought was humiliating. All he could think of was all the times Azee had laughed him for his 'human prudishness'.

"Is there something wrong?"

"Well, uh..." Luke cleared his throat. "Not... as such, but could you perhaps..."

"Yes?"

"Well... for a lady to see me in this state is somewhat... uncouth. I... don't wish to be rude."

Chess spread her arms. "I wear nothing, nor does your companion."

"Well that's different, you're both pe-" the word froze in Luke's throat.

"Shiyan?" Chess offered.

"Y-yes, and you have fur."

"The fur is meaningless, what it hides is little more than details. My breasts will still provide milk, my valley may still bear children, regardless of whether they are covered in cloth or not. Your body is the same, so why hide it?"

"That is true... I suppose. But still it's just-"

"Have you ever wondered why?"

Luke blinked in surprise. "Why what?"

"Why your canon forbids us from wearing clothes, when we ourselves really would prefer not to wear them anyways." She smiled again, tossing another stick onto the fire. "It is rather like writing a law demanding that fish must remain in the water, is it not?"

Immediately Luke tensed up, his brow furrowing. "The canon isn't kind to your people, I understand that. But I didn't make those laws."

"True."

"And?"

Chess tilted her head. "And what?"

"Is that what you are trying to tell me? That my society, the laws we were taught, they're all wrong?"

"I'm afraid I'm not going to tell you anything, Luke Windhill. I merely asked you a question."

"And I answered it."

"Did you?"

Luke paused. "I... Didn't I?"

"Did you?"

"Well, we need clothes! When it gets cold, or the sun is out!"

"Are you cold now?"

Luke paused for a moment. "We wear clothing to prove that we are better than you Shiyan, is that what you want me to say?"

"I don't want you to say anything, though that thought is interesting."

"What is?" Luke demanded, frustration rising within him.

"I was unaware that humans were nudists before you discovered the Shiyan plane."

"Wha- no, of course we weren't!"

"Oh? So you did wear clothing before meeting our people. Then... it would stand to reason, I think, that that isn't the purpose of forbidding us to wear clothing, wouldn't you say?"

"Then what is the reason?" Luke snarled through clenched teeth.

Xia let out a hiss as Luke became more frustrated, but Chess showed no outward reaction.

Luke glared at Chess his hands bunching into fists. 'What is this creature's game? What does she want?' As Luke's mind raced he found Chess's passive smile increasingly irritating.

With a deep breath, Luke forced himself to calm down.

"We... forbid the Shiyan to wear clothing because..." Luke sighed heavily. "I... I don't know."

"Hmmm."

"Aren't you going to tell me?"

Chess tilted her head. "Why would you think I know the answer?"

"B-becasue you asked the bloody question!"

"Why would I ask if I knew the answer?"

"What do you want from me!?" Luke bellowed, leaping to his feet, his nudity forgotten.

Still Chess made no move, gazing peacefully up into Luke's eyes as he glared down at her. "I want you to think, that is all."

"To think? About what?"

"Thinking."

"By the Lord's teeth, you are an infuriating woman!"

"Why?"

As Luke opened his mouth to let loose another curse, he noticed a wide smile creeping across Chess's face. Realising that he was standing nude, Luke's face immediately turned red again. He turned away in embarrassment, covering himself with his hands.

"Come, Luke Windhill, sit with me." Chess patted the ground beside her. "With or without clothes on, it is of no consequence to me."

Screwing up his courage, Luke picked up the blanket he had been lying on and wrapped it around his waist.

Chess watched with amused curiosity as Luke stepped around the fire and sat down beside her.

"I appreciate your hospitality." He grumbled, staring into the fire, his face crimson red. "And for what it is worth, clothes or not, I don't think I am superior to you."

"I am glad to hear it, it will make talking with you much more pleasant." Chess reached forward and plucked one of the skewers of meat from the side of the fire. "Hungry?"

"Yes, thank you, I'm actually rather famished." Luke took the stick gratefully, but paused as he peered at the meat, unable to identify it. "What is it?"

"Something Xia caught earlier today." She took one of the skewers herself and merrily took a bite.

"Right... but what is it?"

"Xamur Spider."

Luke's eyes widened as he stared down at the half a dozen skewers still remaining. "All of this came from one spider?!"

"Well, what was left as Xia had his fill."

Luke felt his stomach starting to turn again. "And uh... how... how rare are these spiders?"

"Oh they're all over the pass, very common, though they don't come out during the day all that often."

"O-oh..."

"Mmm, they prefer to come out at night. Though sometimes they will curl up in travellers' tents if the nights are too cold." Chess set the empty skewer down. "Aren't you going to have some?"

"I... If you will excuse me again."

Chess watched with amusement as Luke leapt to his feet, modesty forgotten as the blanket fell off of him. He stumbled a few feet away, and was sick again.

With a shrug, Chess picked up another skewer and tossed a morsel to Xia. "Humans, such fascinating creatures."

***

"I told you, didn't I?" Sinda smiled as he ran his fingers through the fur on Azee's back.

Azee sighed in utter contentment as she allowed herself to slip mostly under the steaming waters of the hot spring pool.

Sinda and Azee lounged together in one of a half dozen pools of steaming water that covered the floor of the cavern beneath the tower. The air was thick with mist that gently stung Azee's skin and tickled her nose.

Azee's ears flattened and her eyes partially rolled back as Sinda's claws gently tickled her back.

"Oh... that is really nice..." Azee shivered as Sinda moved from her left shoulder to her right, before tickling her spine from the back of her neck to the base of her tail.

Sinda's smile widened as he pressed a little harder, eliciting a fresh round of pleasured moans and groans from Azee. With an especially loud, purring sigh, Azee draped herself over the edge of the pool, her tongue hanging out the side of her mouth.

"Please don't stop." She groaned, completely unaware, or more likely uncaring, of how lewd the noises she was making were.

"As you command."

As he worked on her back, Sinda's claws nicked one of the scars running from her left hip up to her right shoulder. Immediately Azee hissed loudly and tensed up.

"Oh I'm sorry!" Sinda immediately jerked his hand away.

"I-its okay." Azee hissed, her claws digging into the rock a little

As Azee panted, Sinda found his hand drawn to the scars that criss crossed her back. As softly as he could he ran his fingers down the length of one of the larger ones.

"Did Windhill do this to you?" Sinda asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Azee shifted uncomfortably. "Yes... well, no, not Luke... it was his mother."

"What happened?" Sinda's voice was barely above a whisper and his heart pounded in his chest as he touched the scar, unable to help himself.

"Luke's mother... she knew Luke.... had feelings for me... she hated me for it...she thought I would get him hurt or killed by the Order. After Luke's brother died, his father..." Azee's voice trailed off as a shudder rang through her body.

"I'm sorry..." Sinda forced himself to stop touching the scars. "It is just that, I've never been this close to someone like you... someone who was hurt like this." He shook his head and stepped back. "I'm sorry Azee... I shouldn't be... asking you to remember this sort of thing."

"No." Azee's insistence surprised even her as she looked over her shoulder. "No it's... it's alright." She cleared her throat, slipping back down until only her head was above the water. "This all happened when Luke's father took him on a 'manhood tour'."

Azee scoffed as she stared down at her reflection. "I don't even want to think about what that monster thought he needed to teach Luke in order for him to be a 'good Halcyon man'. Of course Luke won't talk about it much, I don't really know what happened but... half a season after he left, his mother sold me to a plantation a few towns over. She told them I was... willful and spoiled, that they would need to teach me 'how to behave like a proper pelt'."

Her shoulders slumped as she found herself unable to meet Sinda's eyes. "They gave me those the first day I was there."

"They're badges of honour."

"I..." Azee crossed her arms, gripping her own sides tightly.

Sinda tilted his head and stepped forward, gently raising Azee's chin so she was looking at him. "Are you... ashamed?"

"I don't know..." Azee looked away to keep herself from meeting Sinda's gaze. "I was scared... I cried for Luke and for my sister all the time at first. I wanted them to come and save me... but I knew Chara couldn't, or at least I hoped she wouldn't try. I was scared she'd get herself killed trying to escape..."

She sighed heavily. "My only hope was Luke... But after the first few weeks, I... lost hope that he or anyone else would ever come. I even started... started to believe..."

"Believe what?" Sinda's voice was barely above a whisper.

"What they say about us!" Azee's lip trembled. "That... that I wasn't good for anything but working. All that time with Luke... it felt like a lie, like I was deluding myself. How could a Windhill, a human, ever care for a creature like me? I belonged to him, that was it, and once I was gone... I was forgotten."

"I think I can understand how that feels."

"No you don't."

Sinda's face twitched a little, but he managed a smile. "But you survived."

"Luke came for me. When he did... I was so thankful... I thought I owed him. I... I wanted to serve him, to convince him never to let me go again."

Azee shuddered, her shoulders shaking as she barely held back tears. "I wanted to... to please him! I listened to him prattle on and on about river boats, and cotton prices! I made his meals, I scratched his back, I shared his bed and

I enjoyed it! All of it!"

Unable to hold herself back, Azee let out a gasping sob. "I... I liked being his slave! And then... and then he... he... he sold Chara... And I realised how much I... how pathetic I had made myself! And all I could think was..."

"How many times you could have slipped a knife between his ribs," Sinda concluded, an edge in his voice that seemed to steal the warmth of the water. "How you could have poisoned his food, or put nightshade in his pipe tobacco."

Azee's eyes flew open and she stared at Sinda. "Y-yes..."

"And if you had, your sister would still be with you. And worst of all..." Sinda's eyes seemed to pierce Azee's soul as he leaned closer. "You still have feelings for him."

Still whimpering softly, Azee nodded.

"Azee... I can't tell you that there was nothing you could have done. But you did what you had to to survive. You had no control, no ability to make decisions, you were just surviving."

"B-but Chara..."

"You're doing everything you can." A note of crystal clear certainty rang in Sinda's voice as it echoed through the cave. "I have no doubt you will find her."

Sinda smiled, releasing Azee's chin but gripping both of her shoulders instead. "And as for Windhill, the heart does strange things. Maybe you love him, maybe you don't. Maybe he's worthy of your love, maybe he isn't. Those truths are something that only you can find out for yourself"

"But how can I? After all he's done..."

"Then maybe you can't, it is your choice, and your choice alone. But whatever you decide, whatever you discover, hold your head up high."

His smile widened, as his gaze softened. "You are not a pelt, you are not a slave, you are Azee, a Shiyan, a free woman, and you are worthy."

Azee sniffed and rubbed her eyes. "I never told anyone that... not even Eloise, or Luke." She couldn't help but chuckle a little. "I didn't even tell Chara... though I always thought she's strangle Luke if I ever said I loved him."

"Maybe you should tell them?" He paused. "Well... maybe the woman, not so much the Windhill. Then again, it is your decision."

"I... wouldn't know how, even if I wanted to."

"Look... I have a pretty low opinion of humans in general, slavers especially, so I'm not going to say anything kind about Windhill. But... if you have feelings for him, you owe it to yourself to figure them out. Not for him, but for you."

"I... I guess so. But... how, and when? When do I... say this."

"You'll know." Sinda shrugged a little. "Chess always says: never chase moments, let them come to you."

Azee was silent for a few moments, staring down at her own reflection in the water. The dancing and shifting of her visage matched the chaotic eb and flow of thoughts and feelings in her heart. But as the seconds passed, she felt her muscles relaxing, the stinging of her eyes fading away.

Taking a deep breath, Azee looked back up and Sinda, a smile slowly working its way across her face. "You know... you're pretty good at this."

"At what?"

"Talking."

"Some would say I'm a little too good at it." Sinda chuckled. "Still, I'm glad I could help at least."

"Thank you."

"Not a problem. Now-" Sinda extended his arms and cracked his fingers "-where were we?"

"You were scratching my back."

"Ah yes. Well, if the lady would kindly face the other way."

Azee nodded and turned around, leaning on the edge of the pool. Once more the cavern echoed with her purring and gentle moans as Sinda returned to running his claws gently up and down her back.