Chapter 4

If they suspected him, they'd have a hard time proving it.

Kyven was almost a horse's ride away from Chardon by the time he stopped to rest, picking up his gear and running through the rest of the night. He was so far away that nobody would ever believe that a man on foot could have set the fire. It was his defense if the Loremaster investigated the incident and found arson and remembered his altercation with the woman, the fact that he was just too far away to have done it should the Loremaster use communications to send word to locate him. If anyone investigated, they'd get reports of farmers seeing Kyven minars away from Chardon, far beyond where he could have theoretically circled back to start the fire.

All those weeks of endurance training had served him well. Most people would never consider that he could run so far, so fast, almost at the pace of a horse.

The running gave him time to think, think about what happened. He felt absolutely no remorse at his act of murder, none at all. That woman deserved to die, and he was simply the instrument of execution. He did feel remorse, though, for that cat. She had died, and died for no reason. It was an empty death, and she had suffered the woman's wrath for the anger that Kyven instilled in her. It was Kyven's fault that she died. He felt remorse for that, felt far more than he would have felt for the woman herself. Killing Bella the Innkeeper was a pale shadow compared to what he'd done to that poor cat, and it taught him a bitter, bitter lesson.

He knew now that one man's acts could have dire consequences far beyond himself. He knew that a man had to consider all options before taking a course, both the obvious ones and the subtle ones. Had he known that angering Bella would have led to the death of the cat, he would have been much more careful. But he had not, and his acts had started a chain of events that eventually killed the Arcan. He had to be much more careful, much more prudent. It was alright to feel as he felt, but he had to keep it to himself. Even though he was no sympathizer, his time with the wolf had opened his eyes to the… humanity of the Arcans, and now that point of view was bleeding through to others.

As unpleasant at it seemed, he would have to pretend to be of no opinion over them, as he used to be. And that applied to all things. He had to carefully consider things before he made any opinion… even before he said a single word or raised an eyebrow. If only because in this world, where the value of life was not given equally to all things, even the most absently given word or comment might lead to the death of another.

It was wisdom, he realized. The fox wanted him to learn wisdom… and he had learned. But he found, then, that those lessons may leave a bitter taste in his mouth. It had taken the death of the Arcan to open his eyes to things, a death he had caused indirectly through an act he didn't even realize he had performed until it was too late.

He had to be more careful.

He stopped at dawn for a meal of cheese and bread, then practiced. He still had to practice, to build up his tolerance to channeling, and he also needed to practice with the shockrod to make it seem that he was using it rather than his own abilities. In the daytime, he had a better chance of getting away with this, he knew. His eyes would still glow, but it wouldn't be so blatant as it would be at night. He moved well off the road and into the woods, and then he practiced. He found that he could still channel the lightning from his palm, and that it would travel up the metal rod of its own volition to erupt from the tip. The shockrod was made of a special alloy that made it highly resistant to the damage the lightning could cause most other metals, so he wasn't worried that repeated lightning strikes would melt it or damage it and ruin his deception. He channeled magic for over an hour, again and again to wear himself out completely, until he could barely even raise his arms, then he collapsed onto his bedroll and slept like the dead.

When he woke up, he took another meal of cheese and bread, but found that it did nothing for him. He was still hungry, famished, and it took him only a moment to realize that it was because there was no meat. The wolf hadn't been bringing him meat just because it was the most readily available food. He needed meat, needed it to recover.

It was time to hunt.

He used everything the wolf taught him about looking at tracks, looking for signs, and listening. He kept the wind in his face as he moved, so his scent didn't warn any prey, and moved both swiftly and silently on nimble feet as he stalked the forest, acting very much like the fox who was his totem. Foxes were stalkers, skulkers, striking from ambush and surprising their prey.

An hour of patient work paid off. He came across a small herd of deer grazing in a very small meadow, shadowed by trees on all sides. He looked through them and picked out the smallest of them, the one that would be the least waste, and struck. Weeks of practicing the lightning spell allowed him to use it quickly and efficiently. Lightning lanced across the small clearing, striking the yearling squarely in the side of the head, and it dropped twitching to the grass. The other deer scattered as the thunderclap rocked the clearing, leaving the yearling to its fate.

Without hesitation, Kyven took his prize. The lightning had killed it, which wasn't always the case and required him to finish them with his dagger, so he collected up the deer and slung it over his shoulders, then carted it off. He would leave the clearing clean of blood so the deer wouldn't avoid it. He carried the deer to a nearby stream, then immediately started eating. As he ate, eating the most nutritious organs first like the liver and kidneys, he foresaw a slight problem if he went into a city. Wearing himself out using Shaman magic triggered this hunger, a hunger that only raw meat seemed to satisfy, which would make people talk when he was in a city. Eating raw meat wasn't too common, after all. So, if he went into a town or city, he'd need to be careful not to get to where he needed meat to recover. Well, that, or try cooked meat, he hadn't tried that yet. He could, see if it did anything for him.

He rested a bit, collected some firewood, butchered a portion of the deer into small strips he could roast over the fire, then again completely wore himself out with multiple channels of lightning, wore himself to the point where he couldn't even lift his arms. He collapsed and rested for a while, as evening began to darken the sky, and woke up some time after dark. He was starving, totally starving, so he quickly started a fire and roasted chunks of deer meat on makeshift spits over the flames, feeling like he was dying of hunger waiting for the meat to brown. He finally couldn't wait any longer and took the thinnest strips down and burned his mouth tearing into them. The meat tasted… strange when it was cooked. It had been so long since he'd had cooked venison he forgot what it tasted like. He wolfed it down in cycles, clearing a spit and putting more meat on it, and found that, while the roasted meat did begin to sate him, it took much more of it. He could use cooked meat, but he'd have to eat a truly obscene amount of it. Somehow, cooking it made it less effective for giving him what he craved out of it.

But, that was good information to know.

He continued to cook the meat and eat it, mainly because it was too much to carry, he didn't know how to preserve it, and he didn't want to waste it. He systematically consumed virtually everything edible off the deer, everything but the intestines which Kyven just couldn't stomach because of their vile taste, then wrapped what little was left in a piece of the deer's own hide and stowed it in a bag. He'd have to eat it quickly before it turned bad, but that wasn't a problem. He returned to the road and again ran, remembering that he had to keep himself in shape to use the magic, continuing on to Avannar in the dark of night, when the road was deserted. He did pass by people, though, merchant trains that had not made inns who were camped in fields near the road. A few of their guards seemed to notice his passage, but he was gone before they could focus crystal lamps or spotlights on him.

His eyes. They had seen his eyes.

His eyes were becoming more and more of a problem, he noticed, so much so that he pulled in that morning and took stock of the situation. He had to use his spirit sight as much as he could, the wolf said so. The more he used it, the better he would get at it, eventually start being able to see the non-living in his sight as the wolf could. The episode with Bella had shown him that not being able to see the non-living could be a real problem, when he'd been unable to see the door and latch without a great deal of effort and trouble. He needed to get to where he could at least make out the non-living without using the faint shimmer of tiny living things on them to give them away, which often was almost impossible to make out if there was something living behind it.

But, humans didn't have eyes like his, so they would give him away that he wasn't normal. So, that was the problem. He needed a solution that would hide his eyes from people, yet allow him to continue practicing using his spirit sight.

The answer was obvious… a blindfold! It would hide the light of his eyes as long as it was tight enough, and since it would be non-living, his spirit sight would see right through it. It would also throw people off. If they thought he was blind, well, he could use that to his advantage in one way, but on the other, it would be hard to explain how he was able to navigate the streets of Avannar flawlessly without his eyes.

That other problem, well, he'd have to think about that. But out here, while he was running the road, a simple leather strap tied over his eyes would take care of the glowing eyes problem. He didn't need normal sight in the dark of night, when it was spirit sight that guided him.

It was how the fox would do it, he reasoned. If his totem was a spirit of guile and deception, then tricking people by feigning blindness would be right in line with her. He had to think like a fox too, and a fox would seek to deceive enemies with guile and cunning, stealth and misdirection.

Tending to his disguise was easy enough. After a quick breakfast, he approached the first farm he found on the way to Avannar, where quite a few men, women, boys, girls, and several Arcans were busy toiling in the fields. It was a very large farm, proof of the farmer's success, so much success that he even had Arcans to aid the family in their daily labor. "Hello, the farm!" Kyven called as he approached from the road. "Might I talk to you about buying something?"

"You may!" came an answer, as the oldest of the men working in the field, a field of tobacco. Beyond the field was the farmhouse, barns, and storehouses, with fields of corn and potatoes beyond that. Kyven met him at the edge of the field and took the man's hand in greeting, a hand that was dirty from working in the earth. "A prospector, eh? On your way to Atan?"

"Actually on my way back to Avannar," he answered.

"Really? Did you hear that they had a fire in Chardon? An inn burned down, the merchants have said."

"It happened after I left," he answered. "Anyway, good farmer, I need a good length of wide leather strap, about yea long," he said, holding his hands about three rods apart. "Soft and pliable, but at least this wide," he said, holding his finger and thumb about five fingers apart. "Do you have something like that?"

"I should. Come to the farmhouse," he said, then he looked back to the field. "Divan, the water bucket's empty!" the man shouted to the other workers. "Go refill it!"

"Sure thing, pa!" the youngest boy called, setting down his hoe and hurrying off.

Kyven followed the middle-aged farmer to the farmhouse complex. The house and its buildings were all freshly whitewashed, and quite a few animals were roaming in pens in and around the two barns, as well as a number of chickens roaming the farmyard freely. A hound laid lazily on the porch of the farmhouse, raising his head to look at the two, then setting it back down and going back to sleep. "Would you like something to drink, traveler?" he asked.

"Kyven," he said, "and if it's no bother. Where's your well?"

"Bother that. May! May, could you bring some water out for a guest please?"

"Aye!" came a voice from the house.

"Wait right here, I'll see what I have for you," he said, motioning to the porch. Kyven nodded and sat down on the steps, near the dog, and absently reached out and scratched him on the head. The old hound's tail thumped on the porch in contentment.

"Water," a voice called. Kyven looked up and was surprised to see a small dog Arcan, with brown fur and a dark streak that went up her muzzle and over and between her eyes, disappearing into her brown hair. She wore a very simple, worn, slightly frayed wool dress with a stout apron over it.

He nodded and took it. The Arcan limped, he noticed, limping back into the farmhouse on a bad left leg, her left foot turned in towards her right. He found the water to be surprisingly cold, clean, and refreshing, and he drained the large tankard quickly.

The farmer came out from a barn and came over, holding out a six rod long length of leather. "Think this'll work?" he asked.

"I think so," he said. He took it and put it to his forehead, then tied it loosely behind his head and pushed it up so it drove up his bangs, keeping them out of his face. The leather seemed wide enough, and if it wasn't, well, there was more than enough to wind it twice around his head. "Yup, this works."

The farmer laughed. "I wondered what you were going to do with it!" he grinned.

"My hair is driving me crazy," Kyven said, with a little honestly. "I can't wait to cut it. How much?"

"For that? Nothing," he snorted. "Nothing but a moment's conversation while I head back out."

"Well, I think I can pay that," Kyven chuckled as he stood up.

"So, heading back from prospecting, eh? Any luck?"

"A little, but not much. I wasn't doing it to make money anyway," Kyven answered. "I was just having a little adventure before I go back to work."

"How can you manage that?"

"I'm a crystalcutter," he said. "I just bought out my contract and was offered a position in a shop, but I want to see a little of the world before I'm chained to my workbench for the rest of my life."

"I can understand that," the man said. "A cutter, eh? Say, think you might do me a favor?"

"Sure, I can do something for you. What is it?"

"Well, from time to time we dig up crystals while we're farming," he said as he turned them around, heading back to the farmhouse. "Usually when we clear new land. And the kids sometimes find things by the stream. Anyway, this spring we cleared some new farmland out by the creek, and we turned up a very unusual crystal. Could you appraise it for us? I don't know much about raw crystals, and I'm not sure what to ask for it."

"I can do that for you, if you trust me to do it," he said with a nod.

"Oh, I think I could," he chuckled. "Wait here, I'll bring it out to you," he said when they reached the porch.

Kyven nodded and sat back down on the steps, and the old hound sat up and nudged his hand, begging for more attention. He chuckled and petted the old dog, making his tail thump the porch as he scratched him behind the ears and stroked his back and flanks with a gentle hand. The farmer returned with a small red cloth pouch, and sat down beside him and upended it into his hand. Out of the pouch came a nearly spherical eight point black crystal.

Kyven's eyes widened as he saw it. It was a very large for a black crystal, far larger than what they usually found in the mines. He took it from the farmer and looked into it, his fingers tingling as he sensed more than he saw. The internal structure of the crystal was dense and well organized. This crystal was very strong, would take a very good cut, and was worth quite a lot of money. He handed it back to the farmer immediately. "Well, is it worth anything?"

Kyven pointed. "I see your barn's a little old," he noted.

"My grandfather built it," the man chuckled. "It's an original building of the farm, been there for over a hundred years."

"Well, when you sell that, you'll be able to rebuild it, and maybe a couple more just like it," he said honestly. "That's a black crystal, friend, and they're rare. Add to that it's large, and it has no internal flaws. You could sell it for five thousand chits easy, but you can't sell it to just anyone."

"Five thousand chits?" the man gasped.

Kyven nodded. "That's what I'd say it's worth. That's what the Loremaster should offer for it."

"What do you mean?"

"Black crystals are regulated by the Loremasters," he answered. "Send for a Loremaster and show it to him. The Loremaster will buy it from you. Do not show it to anyone else." He was quiet a moment. "And a word of suggestion."

"Yes?"

"Tell him your children found it in the stream," he warned. "If the Loremaster finds out it was buried here, you might find people digging up your farm looking for more of them. If you tell him it was in the stream, they'll think it washed down from somewhere else."

The man's eyes widened, and he nodded. "Yes, I can see that. You really think it's worth that much?"

"At least. The Loremaster will offer you at least that much, maybe even more."

"I… wow. Just wow," he breathed, putting the crystal back in the pouch.

The dog Arcan returned to the porch, holding two more mugs. "Water," she said, holding them out.

Kyven looked at her, and then realized that she had no collar.

"Thanks, May," the farmer said, taking them from her. "Go inside now, hon. And sit down a while!"

The Arcan limped back into house, and the man offered Kyven the other tankard. He took it and took a long swallow as the man talked. "Well, I thought it might be worth a few hundred, but that much? I, I don't know what I'll do with it. I could–well, I could get May's leg looked at by a better vet than the traveling vet that usually comes," he said.

"What happened to her?"

"Broke her leg in a fall," he answered. "It didn't heal back right, cause that quack didn't splint it the right way. I could buy a healing bell for her!" he said, his eyes brightening.

"That's a lot of money."

"Worth every chit," he said immediately. "May's been with us for forty years. My grandfather bought her. After all she's done for us, least we could do for her."

"That's old for an Arcan," Kyven noted carefully.

"That just means she knows what to do," the man shrugged.

"And not wearing a collar."

The man looked a little uncomfortable. "Well, collars cost money, and she's too old to run away," he noted. "She's lived on this farm almost her whole life, it's what she knows. She'd run the day pigs fly."

"Well, it's your money if she does," Kyven noted absently, setting his mug down. "Thanks for the water and the leather, friend. I appreciate it."

"Thanks for the honest appraisal of the crystal," he answered.

Kyven left the farm, and spent a moment looking back. He saw the Arcans toiling the fields right along with the humans, and saw that the young man bring them water. They took it from him with a nod, and a pat on his shoulder, and then they returned to work.

A human serving an Arcan. The farmer had better have a talk with his kids about doing that kind of thing in public.

It seemed this was another lesson for him. He had seen the worst in people in that woman Bella, and here, in this family, he saw the best. These people were not cruel their Arcans. They were very kind to them, even willing to spend a great deal of money to help heal an old female long past her prime. These were good people. They may even be sympathizers.

These would be the kinds of people Verrin would approach to join the Masked.

The ferrets.

This was a place where he'd feel more than comfortable bringing those two ferrets. They too were his responsibility. He freed them from a murderous mistress, but he had left them in very precarious straits. They were uncollared Arcans, fair game for any hunter or farmer if they could be captured, and they were domesticated, having no idea how to survive in the forest alone. Here was a decent man who would treat them well, and if they had to survive, have a stable place where the female could have her baby, this could be it.

Shadow fox, this is where the ferrets need to be. What do I do? Do I go back for them, or continue on to Avannar?

She was there. He turned to see her, sitting sedately in the road, facing him, her glowing green eyes steady and unwavering. She looked to her left, then to her right, then back to him.

I don't understand. What do you want me to do?

She shrugged, then her form seemed to melt away, until she was gone.

It was his decision. She was telling him that it was his decision.

He considered it. On one hand, he felt it was the right thing to do to go back for the ferrets, to fulfill his responsibility to them by offering them this chance to come live with this kind farmer. But, if he did so, he'd have to track them down, which was something he wasn't that good at doing, and it would cost him time. On the other hand, the fox wanted him to go to Avannar, and he didn't want to disobey her by getting so bogged down in his search for the ferrets.

He understood then. This was a test. She was testing his personal desires against his obedience. But which was the correct decision? Did she want him to go back for the ferrets, or go on to Avannar?

There was a third option, he realized, that would allow him to perform both tasks at the same time. His responsibility to the ferrets didn't mean that he had to fulfill it personally. He could ask for help. Maybe the spirits would see his predicament and help him. He was willing to pay their price for their assistance.

It was time to Summon, to formally ask a favor of his totem in exchange for paying her price.

He continued on down the road towards Avannar, until he was in a strip of forest between two farms. He moved off the road and sat down in the forest, out of sight of the road, and then opened his eyes to the spirits. He called out then, called out into the spirit world with his thoughts. Shadow fox, he intoned. I need help. I have two duties that conflict, and cannot satisfy both at the same time. One duty is to you, the other is to my own conscious. I would beg your aid so that I might be true to your wishes while also living up to my obligations. I'm willing to pay your price. Please help me.

She was there. She was sitting not two rods from him, seated, as always, her glowing eyes regarding him soberly.

"Can you guide them here?" he asked. "I know I shouldn't ask it of you, but–"

She stood up, cutting him off. She padded over to him, so close he could touch her, and then she leaned in and licked him on the side of the face. The touch of her tongue against his cheek was like a thousand crystals pressed against his skin. It was the first time she had ever made physical contact with him.

In that touch, there was also communication. You knew to ask for aid when it is needful. You could see that the presented options were not the only options you could follow. You have seen that there is more than the obvious ways to approach a problem to find its solution. This is the way of wisdom. You have passed the test, her very thought seemed to mingle in his mind. Continue on to Avannar as I have commanded. Leave the ferrets to me. I will take up their burden and deliver them safely to this place and see that they are cared for and content, if you pay my price. My price for this boon will be taken at a later time, for there is always a price when you ask for aid thusly, even of me.

"I understand," he said with a simple nod. "I will pay the price."

She put her nose against his cheek. Her fur was soft, warm, tingly, and in that contact there was further communication. It is not wise to agree to pay a price without knowing the price, she warned. I could take anything, even your very life, and yet you agree blindly.

"But I trust you, fox," he told her calmly. "You've watched over me most of my life. I trust you."

That is of no moment. I could have merely been baiting you into just such a thing. You have no inkling of what I could do to you, human, what payment I could exact, which would make you beg for death. I may be doing that very thing right now, she noted dryly. I am, after all, a spirit of guile and deceit. And yet you will blindly take any offer I give?

He swallowed, and nodded gravely. "There comes a time when a man just has to trust someone, with his very life. I decided to walk this path to follow you, to know you, and to understand you. I will pay your price, because I trust you. I believe that my trust in you is not misguided."

Indeed, she noted, with light amusement. So be it, then. I will bring the ferrets here. In return, you will pay my price at a later time, when I exact it. Thus will you learn the danger of summoning the spirits, she warned ominously.

"If I come out of it wiser for my trouble, then isn't it just another lesson?"

She withdrew from contact with him, turning and walking away. She turned and looked back at him, her face… amused. Then she padded away, her form melting into the shadows and disappearing.

It was done, and there was no backing out now, but he wasn't too worried about it. He had no doubt she would do something moderately awful to him to show him how a spirit could be vengeful or cruel, but he trusted her. He would endure that lesson gladly if it helped him atone for getting the cat Arcan killed, by bringing those ferrets to a place where they would be treated kindly and well.

But now that it was over, and now that he had heard her speak, he saw the trap she set for him. She baited him into doing this. She manipulated him into summoning her formally, she had tricked him. He'd fallen for it like a newborn babe, too.

She was a spirit of guile and deceit, even with Shaman she took to be their totem.

Clearly, he needed to be a touch more careful around her. Perhaps that, too, was a part of this lesson… not to trust too blindly, even his own totem spirit.

Water under the bridge. It was done, he did it, and he wasn't sorry. She had taught him his lesson, and when the time came to pay her price, he wouldn't whine or snivel or beg. He made this deal, he would honor it like a man.

He stood up and fiddled with his new leather headband, its tails reaching all the way to his waist; it was nearly as long as he was tall. He then headed back for the road, and put the entire affair out of his mind. He'd worry about it later.


It took him nearly two more nights of travel to reach Avannar, the City of History. Avannar was reputed to have been built on the ground that was once one of the mighty capitols of the Great Ancient Civilization, but even despite that legend, Avannar was definitely the greatest city on Noraam. It was huge, sprawling over both banks of the wide, slow-moving, brown waters of the Podac River, with the legendary fortress called the Black Keep on one of the two islands in the middle of the river. The other, larger island was called Loremasters' Isle, and held the large, glittering towers of the Towers of History, the headquarters and main repository of the knowledge of the Loremasters. Avannar was literally two cities. On the south bank of the river was Old Avannar, the original city, filled with old stone buildings, narrow and crooked cobblestone streets, and a great deal of history. After they built the bridges over the Podac River some two hundred years ago, New Avannar sprang up. On the southeast corner of Old Avannar and New Avannar both were the docks, where ships from the sea sailed up the Podac River and stopped. This place was chosen probably for the same reason the Great Ancients chose it, because the river was very wide, deep enough to support docking seaworthy vessels, and the land around the river here was flat and conducive to building a city, New Avannar, across the river, consisted of larger, more comfortable looking buildings of wattle-and-daub, brick, and timber, with wider, more spacious streets and many warehouses. Old Avannar was the merchant quarter and abode of the poor, and New Avannar was the abodes of the middle and upper classes as well as the place where the Loremaster's College and all the Guilds had their headquarters.

Kyven had been here once before. They'd stayed at an inn in Old Avannar near one of the two bridges across the river, called the Beggar's Bridge because of the beggars that commonly gathered at its bases and along its wide length. The other bridge connected the Loremasters' Isle to the city, while the Black Keep had no bridges, only boats that ferried people back and forth. They'd been here for two days, as Holm did business with the Guild of Crystalcutters on behalf of the entire village of Atan, and then they went home. Every year, actually right about this time, a bit after Midsummer Festival, one of the artisans from Atan traveled to Avannar to discuss matters, do business, and keep up to date on any new discoveries or issues. He recalled the cutter in Chardon saying that he'd heard from Torvik that they thought he was dead, so it must have been Torvik that had come to Avannar this year to represent Atan.

He walked into the city of Avannar from the Atan Road right around noon, sharing the road with merchants, travelers, and farmers and others using the road to access the many farms and horse ranches to the south and west of the city. Avannar was also known for its horse ranches out west, ranch after ranch built in the grassy piedmont to the west and northwest of the city proper, in a nook created by a wide curve in the river. He was following loosely behind a wagon caravan that had come up the south road, where it merged with the Atan Road, the south road going to Freeburrough some fifty minars to the south. He waited outside the walls of Old Avannar, wishing he'd have crossed the river and come from the north, for there were no walls around New Avannar. The old city was built back in the violent times, before the Loremasters came to control Noraam, when each city was its own nation and they warred upon each other. Though guards no longer stood at the gates and challenged every visitor like they used to, the walls throttled travel into the old city down to two gates and sometimes backed things up.

He wondered why the fox had asked him to come here. He couldn't think of anything he could learn here, really, unless she was simply showing him how the Loremasters treated the Arcans.

And there were many Arcans here. He remembered the last time he was here, remembered seeing all the Arcans wearing rough clothing scurried about the streets of Old Avannar, all of them wearing collars, and some of them wearing a strange white uniform that had the symbol of the Loremasters on its front and back. Those were owned by the city and the Loremasters, he remembered, who swept the streets and did other similarly distasteful jobs.

Kyven passed the caravan and threaded his way through the slow-moving traffic and through the gates, into the city, and up a street known as The Walk, an infamous street that led to the landing from the west gate and all the way up to the Black Keep, straight and wide so people could watch as the criminals were marched to prison. There were many inns, festhalls, and taverns along the old street, and there was an open marketplace through which the street cut near the river, he remembered. Until he understood why the fox had sent him here, he'd find a room near the river, and also make contact with an alchemist to make something for him, a little something that would work quite nicely with his headband.

Guile and deceit.

He went all the way to the river and immediately started looking for inns. Inns near the river were more expensive, but also safer, he remembered Holm tell him. Kyven still had two hundred and fifty left from selling that crystal, and besides, in a place like Avannar, he could easily get spot work in the Guild. He was an enrolled member, he could show up at the gates and ask for a spot job to make some chits if he ran out of money. The first inn he tried was literally on the corner of The Walk and the river within sight of the foreboding black stone fortress of the Black Keep, a large, bright, clean, and very orderly sort of place that would cater to well-to-do merchants and other wealthy people. It was staffed almost completely with Arcans, rodents, cats, and small canines all wearing matching blue dresses or waistcoats and knee pants, all of them with their fur immaculately combed and preened.

He asked the small marten Arcan by the door who greeted him who he had to talk to about rooms. The Arcan gave him a speculative look, then he pointed him in the direction of a very tall, rather fat man sitting at a table near the fireplace, playing chess with a small, wiry man wearing a powdered wig and wire-rimmed spectacles. "Excuse me, I'm wondering if you have any rooms available?" he asked politely.

The fat man gave him one cursory glance. "The squatter's inns are by the wall," he said absently.

"If I wanted to stay in a run-down inn where I'd have to barricade myself in my room, I'd be looking there, sir," he said simply.

"You're a drifter, sir, a prospector. I take much more risk bringing you into my inn than you would at a lower establishment."

"I'm a crystalcutter, sir," he said in retort.

"Carrying a handpick?"

"A man has to have a hobby, sir," he said simply.

The man gave him a look, then laughed delightedly. "I'm afraid I have to protect the reputation of my inn, sir. Please look elsewhere. Good day to you."

Kyven nodded simply. He wasn't about to argue with the man, it was his inn and it was his decision who he allowed to stay in it. "Good day, sir," he said in return, and turned to leave.

"Hold."

Kyven stopped and turned around, and saw the fat man giving him a speculative look. "You have manners, sir, and I am always a gentleman to a gentleman. If you seek the safety of the river quarter and don't mind what accommodations you are given, I have a spare room in the building where I house my Arcans. If that does not bother you, it is yours for five chits a night, under condition that you do not visit the common room until you have more proper attire. Waistcoat and breeches at the minimum."

"Done, sir," he said with a simple nod. He took out a twenty-five chit coin and put it on their chess table. "For the next few days."

"Take him there," the man ordered of the slender male mouse standing by the bar.

"Follow me, please," the mouse said urbanely, bowing to him.

Kyven fell into step behind the shorter mouse as he was led through the kitchen and into a courtyard behind the inn, a gated area holding a stable and a short, squat rowhouse building. It was there that the mouse took him, leading him down a long hallway with doors on each side. Some of those doors were open, some were closed, showing him that the innkeeper owned twice as many Arcans as he saw in the inn. He must have bought enough for two full shifts of workers, and all of them were small, physically attractive Arcans, or at least attractive to a human. The mouse opened a door at the very end of the hallway, holding a very small room, barely more than a closet. It had a bed in it and a small chest, and that was it… and there was barely room for those. There couldn't be two rods of open space between the edge of the bed and the wall. "It'll work, thank you," he said to the Arcan calmly, nodding to him.

"A word of warning," the mouse said quietly. "Some may not appreciate your presence. Be careful," he warned.

"I just want a quiet, safe place, I won't cause anyone trouble," he answered as he stepped into the tiny room.

The mouse nodded, and closed the door behind him.

It was worth the money to have a secure place where he didn't have to worry about thieves and bandits. Old Avannar was rampant with them, despite the presence of the Loremasters, as any large city would be. He sat down on the bed, musing that it was going to feel very strange sleeping on a bed after two months in a bedroll on the ground. But it was clean, it was in a good part of town, and it would be relatively safe. That was what mattered to him. He dropped off his gear, setting it on the bed, and then realized when he got up and opened the door that the door had no lock. His gear was open prey to anyone who lived in the building. Well, there wasn't anything in there that was really valuable anyway. Just some clothes, a bedroll, prospecting gear he never used. He carried everything valuable on his person. He went back down the hall and out, then to the back door by the kitchen. He knocked and waited for one of the kitchen workers to take notice of him, who came over to the door. She was a rather tall canine Arcan wearing one of those blues dresses and a white apron. "You're that human that rented a room in our building?" she asked curiously.

He nodded. "I'd like to buy a meal, but I'm not dressed to sit in the common room. May I buy one and eat it out here?"

"Certainly," she said with a nod. "Three chits, sir, and I promise you won't be able to eat it all."

"Done," he said with a nod.

"Wait here." She scurried off, then returned a couple of minutes later carrying a very large bowl of beef stew and a tankard of ale. "There's a table and stool there by the stable," she said, pointing. He followed her finger and saw it, under a short roof built out to the side of the stable's open front area.

"Thanks," he nodded, then carried the food over to the table, sat down, and began to eat. The stablehands, all Arcans, gave him strange looks from inside and near the gate, waiting for guests to ride up, but he ignored them. Here, he was the strange one, and he knew it. He had to respect the fact that he was invading their personal space. He was a human among Arcans, and he had to be sure to be as respectful to them in this, their area, as they were forced to be to him because of law and custom.

Despite the Arcan's boasting, he managed to eat the whole bowl of stew, though it did fill him up. He took the bowl and tankard back to the kitchen and returned to the room he'd rented, and immediately laid down. He was very tired, and this was usually the time that he'd be sleeping ever since he started this training. He needed a short nap, then he'd go see an alchemist about his little idea.

Training. Strange to think that here he was, a human learning about Shaman, about to go to sleep in the home city of an organization that hunted Shaman as a matter of policy. Why was he doing this? He had a nice life back in Atan. He was the best cutter in the village, he had nothing but good fortune in his future. But no, he'd given it all up to chase… what? A fox?

A truth. He was chasing a truth. The fox had been part of his life since before he was a cutter, and chasing her was actually chasing himself. He wanted to know why the fox was interested in him, why she helped him, but the wolf had been too right about him. He was searching for himself. He was a human that could see the spirits, and that made him different from other humans. He had to find out why, he had to explore this other side of himself to understand it, and then decide where he fit into the world. Would he go back to Atan and live out his life cutting crystals in his shop? Or would he wander the land as a Shaman, doing the bidding of his totem? If so, what would she have him do? As a human, he was certainly capable of much more than the other Shaman. He could go places they couldn't, do things they couldn't. Was it coincidence that the spirit that had adopted him and made him her totem was the shadow fox, a spirit of guile and deceit? With her as his totem, he would be a great spy, the wolf had hinted. He said her spells of illusion and trickery were stronger than Shaman who had no totem, which would give him the ability to fool people.

But what would he do with it? Serve the Masked as a roving spy, a human mole that would penetrate the Loremasters and learn their secrets?

Possible. Doubtful, but possible. Kyven didn't have the sense of dedication to the Masked to try something like that… or at least not yet.

He couldn't see the use of it, personally. The Loremasters controlled all of Noraam, how would a small number of Shaman and their human associates bring down the government?

He'd probably be more use just keeping track of what they were doing. He was a human Shaman in a human city, and if what he was thinking would actually work, well, he could get away with using his magic within the city walls.

Guile and deceit.


He was up and about after a couple hours of light sleep. The bed was clean, but it was soft, and he wasn't used to soft after two months of sleeping on the ground. He was true to his word with the innkeeper and stayed out of his common room, going out through the stable door. It didn't take long for him to find an alchemist in a city as big as Avannar, all he had to do was ask the first man who wore the uniform of the Loreguard, the private army the Loremasters kept, to pass by. The fellow directed him to an alchemist's shop along The Walk, so he wouldn't get lost, and Kyven made his way there through a busy, crowded throng. The Walk was the biggest and most used street in Old Avannar, and he had to share it with quite a few people, dressed from rich merchants in their finery to the roughest manual laborers in smocks. Arcans were also all over the street, most of them being led by humans but a few roaming of their own volition, and all of them were wearing collars.

Again, he wondered why he was here. Why did the fox send him to Avannar? What would he learn here, other than the fact that there were lots of Arcans? So far, the first two lessons he'd learned had involved Arcans, he figured that since all the other Shaman were Arcan, she wanted to make certain points about them, maybe so he could relate to the other Shaman better… or something. He really had no idea.

The alchemist's shop to which he was sent was huge. The showroom itself was nearly the size of their workroom back in Atan, a cavernous place with shelf after shelf filled with displays of alchemical devices. Weapons like shockrods and firetubes and force beads sat on a small rack on one shelf, while lamps hung from the ceiling, and self-rotating fans circulated air through the large room. There were tiny little things like crystal-driven watches so small they could be put in a pocket to the largest, an alchemical self-propelled carriage, the wheels turned by crystal power. The carriage was made of brass, bronze, and steel, and had two seats and wooden wheels covered with metal bands. That thing had to cost something like fifty thousand chits. The place was busy too, so busy that four men were behind the counters, talking to people who visited the shop. Kyven actually had to wait for about half an hour before one of the men could talk to him.

"I'm looking for something, unusual," Kyven began. "I'm basically looking for a little toy, but I don't think anyone's ever made one before."

"Ah, a custom order? What did you have in mind?"

"Nothing fancy," he said simply. "My brother's child is afraid of the dark, but he can't sleep if there's too much light. What I was looking for was something along the lines of a small broach or medallion he could pin to his clothes that gives off a very soft light, just enough for him to feel like there's light but not so much that it keeps him awake."

"Why would he need to pin it to his clothes if he's sleeping?"

"So he can't lose it when he's not using it," he answered. "He's very bad about losing things. If you don't pin it to him, it'll be gone by suppertime."

"Ah, now that I understand. Something like that would be quite easy, quite easy. I could adapt a simple glowsetting with a pin backing and muffle it so it's not quite as bright. But I'm afraid it'll be colored light. If you like, I could make you something with normal light, but it'll take longer."

"No, no, colored light is fine," he said easily. "What colors?"

"Green, blue, and red."

"He likes green, let's go with that. How much would it cost?"

"A glowsetting is only forty chits. Add on ten chits for the custom work, and we'll call it fifty chits."

"It's a deal," Kyven said immediately. "When can I pick it up?"

"Something this easy? Tomorrow afternoon. Let me fill out a form for you, and I'll have the shop get to work on it."

The money changed hands, and after the clerk filled out a form explaining exactly what Kyven wanted and who he was, he left the shop feeling quite satisfied.

He wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to do, and he couldn't practice magic in the city, so he decided to go stand by the rail near the bridge at the river and just watch for a while, spending some quiet time as the beggars who gathered by the bridge plied their trade, seeking to wheedle chits from passers-by. They were a rather sorry lot, dressed in rags, filthy, emaciated from hunger, a perfect example of the dregs, the forgotten, and the lost. Some of them were old. Some of them were young. Some… he couldn't tell. He watched the well-dressed people hurry past them, refuse to look at them, and then they all scattered when a detachment of the Loreguard marched by. Once the guards were gone, they slowly slinked back to the bridge, huddled along its sides, holding their hands out to anyone who passed them. One fellow kicked a beggar that got too close to him, sending the young boy running away screaming, then he laughed about it to his companions.

The joke would be on him, though. Kyven's eyes were sharp and attuned to detail. He saw that young boy slip his hand into the man's pocket when he got close to him, and the man must not have noticed.

Guile and deception, eh? Those were the perfect aspects of a thief. And Kyven had very, very nimble hands. He wondered if he could pull off something like that. Maybe he should try… or maybe not. Getting thrown in the Black Keep probably wasn't what the fox had in mind by sending him to Avannar.

But he'd bet he could do it.

He leaned on the rail as the sun set to the west, quiet and introspective. He pondered what he was doing here in Avannar, he pondered the fox, he though about what he'd done in Chardon, and still felt no remorse for Bella, but felt remorse for that poor cat who had died because of him. He ignored the people around him, but he was keeping his eyes open, and every time the beggars tried to approach him, a little too quietly, a direct stare quelled them and sent them back to the bridge. But then again, he wasn't dressed as a well-off townsman, he was wearing rough, simple outdoor clothes; between his leathers and his shaggy hair, he looked every bit the prospector or miner, in no way someone who belonged in Avannar.

She was there.

He turned to look, even as he felt her nearness to him incite his spirit sight, cause him to open his eyes to the spirit world. He turned his head and saw her, seated sedately before him, her tail wrapped around her front legs, watching him. He nodded to her, and then turned to face her. She dipped her head meaningfully, and he took that to mean that she wanted him to kneel down. That would look a little strange, so he instead turned and sat down against the rail, bowing his head and closing his eyes. He sensed her come up to him, and then felt her nose touch his cheek, sending a throb of tingling power through his face. Instead of communicating with him, instead, there was a flash of… inspiration, in his mind. He realized that she was teaching him a new spell, and he opened himself up to her instruction. The spell was a simple spell that attacked the senses of the victim, a blazing blast of light that would blind anyone who was near him for a short time… including himself if he was looking at it when it happened. But the fox knew what he was planning to do with the blindfold, and so the spell wouldn't affect him… which was probably why she was teaching it to him.

He understood how the spell worked. She maintained the touch on him for a brief second, but did not directly communicate. Maybe she only did that when he formally summoned her… he wasn't sure. She drew away from him, and he opened his eyes and regarded her. She gave him a simple nod, then took a single step back.

"What am I supposed to do here?" he whispered to her.

She looked past him. He followed her gaze, and saw that she was staring at the Loremasters' towers on the island.

"There?" he asked in surprise. "What am I supposed to do?"

She shrugged her shoulders, then turned and padded away from him. Her form seemed to melt into the shadows, and she was gone.

He had to go there? To the towers of the Lorekeepers? Why? What purpose did that serve? Unless the purpose was nothing other than to go there. Maybe the fox wanted to see if they could tell he was a Shaman. After all, he was human, he was unique. If that were the case, well, he'd do it, but he wouldn't be too happy about it.

But then again, he'd much rather know that they couldn't detect he was a Shaman before it might really matter if they could. Maybe that's what this was all about, to see if he was undetectable to the Loremasters.

Either way, he had his orders, and he would obey them. The fox wanted him to go to the towers, and so he would go to the towers. It would scare the life out of him, but he'd do it.

Tomorrow. He'd do it tomorrow after he picked up his little piece of trickery.


He could tell he wasn't welcome.

It wasn't just the typical Arcan behavior around humans, either. The Arcans in the fat man's inn weren't forward enough to be openly hostile to him, because he was a human, but they did not like him in their building, not one little bit. They wouldn't speak a word to him, and whenever he appeared in the stable, he could tell that word passed quickly that the human was back, and their private domain was being invaded.

This, Kyven more or less expected. Arcans had little reason to like humans, in the first place, and at least out here in the stable yard, they had their run of it as long as there weren't any guests back here either arriving or departing. Kyven's presence in their dormitory was like an invasion to Arcans who had actually become accustomed to a little bit of dignity and status. The fat man clearly treated them well. They were well fed, well clothed, and were even given their own private rooms in the dorm behind the inn, which was quite unusual. The Arcans were used to a little taste of dignity, and Kyven's presence in their private area was an affront to it.

He understood, and didn't blame them at all. He stayed in his room when not actively eating, coming, or going, didn't speak to them, but also was not rude to them. He was sure they gossiped all about him, because he kept very odd hours, staying out most of the night and sleeping through most of the morning, then coming in and napping again after coming back. They wondered what he was doing, he'd managed to catch one little blurb through his wall as the Arcan in the room beside his talked in hushed whispers. He'd been out almost all night, and they suspected that he was some kind of drifting pickpocket or thief who had made a big score somewhere else and had come to Avannar to hide, but still liked to lurk in the shadows with other thieves, and was spending all night out in the seedy bars and festhalls in the southern reaches of Old Avannar.

He wouldn't tell them the truth. He'd been out all night the night before testing his blindfold, and had found that it was a smashing success. The blindfold did not in any way hinder his spirit sight, allowing him to see perfectly well. By wrapping the two tails of the leather around his head as well, it completely hid the green glow of his eyes. He'd used a stick and pretended to be blind as he wandered the streets of Avannar, and nobody saw or suspected a thing. Quite a few people tried to help him, and quite a few also tried to rob him, too, taking him to be helpless. Those were the recipients of the new spell he'd been taught, the blinding flash, which Kyven hid by using a little trinket he'd bought in a general store, a clear glass ball connected to a brass base, which he used as a prop to pretend that it was a kind of alchemical device.

The night taught him much. It showed him that people did not believe in any way that he was anything but normal, if a little creepy since he seemed aware of things he couldn't see. He realized that by using magic in Avannar, the Loremasters didn't seem to notice, or perhaps they couldn't distinguish Shaman magic from the use of mana crystals, since they were both the same kind of energy.

That was a very useful little piece of information.

He'd returned to the compound in the morning, eaten out in the stableyard, and got some sleep as the Arcans changed shifts. There were two shifts of them to staff the inn at all hours of the day and night, which made the inn very popular with many about town as a place where a gentleman could go at any time and get a meal or a tankard of fine ale or glass of fine wine, as well as conversation with other men and women of means. After sleeping, he again left the inn and made his way to the alchemy shop to see if they'd finished his order yet. The same man who'd helped him the day before helped him once again, and though it wasn't done, he offered to have them finish it for him while he waited if he so wished. He did so, standing silently in the corner as he listened to customers and saw what they bought. There were quite a few toys bought, from blinking lights to a little top that spun endlessly on a stand. Some weapons were bought, shockrods being the most popular because they didn't set fires when used, and he even saw the sale of a healing bell, a device to heal wounds and cure diseases, going for nearly five thousand chits. Using rare green crystals, it was the crystal that made it expensive, not the construction.

After about an hour, they were done. The clerk brought it out to him, showing him an oval frosted glass plate that glowed with a soft green radiance that had a pin on its back, allowing it to be attached to clothing. "Perfect," Kyven said with a nod. "Thank you very much, sir. My brother's child will enjoy it very much."

"Glad to be of service, sir," the clerk said with a nod.

The device changed the game. Kyven ducked into an alley, pinned the device to his headband, and then wrapped the two tails over his eyes to form the blindfold, leaving. He stepped out and into the crowd now looking like a blind man, but the glowing device pinned to his eye wrappings gave the appearance that he was blind, but being guided by an alchemical device. Most alchemists, cutters, and probably Loremasters would know that such a thing would be impossible, but the average person might not. And nor would those that would know not know exactly how it worked; perhaps it only warned him if he was very close to something, and he was simply very good at navigating using its crude warnings. Either way, it would give people a convenient excuse to believe that he had some means of moving around other than his eyes, and that was all it took to keep his eyes hidden and allow him to use spirit sight, and Shaman magic, without detection.

He walked around for quite a while to see how people would react. He got quite a few strange looks and stares, but nobody openly challenged him. He even walked right past a pair of women wearing the surcoat of the Loremasters. Both women gave him a long, searching look, but allowed him to pass by unchallenged.

It worked!

He hoped that the fox was pleased. She was a spirit of guile and deceit, and he was following in her footsteps. The device was both guile and deceit, using trickery and supposition to make people believe he could see without his eyes, which was only a front for giving him the ability to hide his eyes so he could use his magic without being found out.

Now that he knew it worked, he found a quiet alley where he was alone and took it off. He had to go to the headquarters of the Loremasters, and he would take no chances.

It was time to do as he was ordered. He made his way to the bridge leading to the island holding the building that headquartered the Loremasters, a wide bridge with granite blocks serving as the footstones of the bridge. A detachment of ten Loreguards stood guard there, armed with muskets, swords, and shockrods, who stopped anyone carrying a weapon and turned them away. Kyven was carrying a shockrod and daggers, so he was forced to turn back like the rest of them, making him go back to the inn and leave them in his room before he could get past them.

The headquarters of the Loremasters was open to visitors, so Kyven was just one of many who filed over the ornate, elegant stone and metal bridge that connected the south bank of the city with the island. The gleaming white stone of the towers loomed over him as he approached, four towers on each corner of a huge building that almost looked like a cathedral, a building that took up nearly the entire island. Only a garden in the front, where the two bridges joined the island to both banks, and the far side were open, and the far side was supposed to be a small training area for officers of the Loreguard. Kyven was just one of many, many of which wore the surcoat of the Loremasters, coming down off the bridge and into the huge, well tended garden… a garden tended by human gardeners. A sign at the foot of the bridge explained why, for it read Final Warning! No Arcans Permitted. Any Arcan Found On The Island Will Be Terminated With No Reparation To The Owner. Arcans weren't allowed on the island, which Kyven found, unusual. Why forbid Arcans when the Loremasters saw Arcans as laborers and slaves?

Shaman. Of course. They were afraid of Shaman. And since they couldn't detect him, then that meant that they couldn't detect Arcan Shaman either. They kept any possible Shaman off the island by forbidding all Arcans from setting foot here.

Kyven joined a line of people in normal dress who entered the ornate front doors of the huge building. He stepped into a huge, grand atrium, bright sunlight pouring down from a massive glass ceiling of huge glass panes in a framework of black metal grids. Loremasters walked alone or in pairs or groups through that huge mezzanine, moving to and from the series of doors in the back, as uniformed workers sitting at desks to both sides talked with citizens who had business here. And just as on the bridge and in the garden, Loreguards armed with muskets and swords stood guard within the mezzanine, a militant presence that ensured that order was kept.

He stepped out into the mezzanine, gawking up at the glass ceiling along with a few other people, feeling very, very… insignificant. This was the headquarters of the people who basically ran Noraam, and just their entry room was massive, grand, epic in scale and design, where hundreds of Loremasters filed in and out, and who knew how many there were on the far sides of those doors at the other end of the mezzanine. He stood there and considered that there was a Loremaster in every village and town on Noraam, and any of them could make contact with Avannar at the speed of alchemy and summon troops or assistance, or call in reports. The enormity of the place hit him like a hammer, and he realized why the fox wanted him to see this place.

To warn him.

She was warning him. These people were the enemy of the Shaman, sought to eradicate them, and Kyven being human would make no difference. Hell, they'd probably come after him even harder than an Arcan Shaman, because he was human. He was unique, something unheard of, and if the Loremasters fought the Shaman because they represented a twisting of the ideals of the Great Ancient Civilization, Arcans who were supposed to be slaves who had real power and could resist, then how would they approach Kyven? He was an unknown, something beyond their experience, and human beings did not react well to such things… that was an established fact. People feared what they didn't understand.

Or maybe they wouldn't. After all, he was unique, and he was human. They might see his unique abilities as an asset… an asset to control.

No. The Loremasters were not his friends. They were his enemies, and the wolf Shaman was right to call them so. They were enemies to the Arcan because they sought to keep them in slavery, and they would be Kyven's enemy because of who he was. They would either try to kill him because he was a Shaman or use him, because he was a Shaman. Either way, they would try to control his life, and he wouldn't stand for it.

That was what she wanted him to see.

He turned and left the building. For some reason, the place gave him the chills now, where before it was nothing but a building. It was like looking into the opening of an angry wolverine's den, and he could hear it growling inside. He hurried through the gardens and over the bridge, and didn't feel safe and relieved until he was nearly a block away from the bridge leading over the river.

She was there.

He turned to face the river and saw her, seated sedately near the rail that kept people from falling into the river, seated sedately with her tail wrapped around her legs, and she nodded once, eloquently. He had seen what she wanted him to see, he reasoned. He was certain now that the Loremasters were no friends of his, where before he only assumed it. It was something he knew now.

She stood up and turned and walked away, stopped, then looked back at him. She wanted him to follow. He did so after covering his eyes and putting on his deceiving device so he could use spirit sight without his eyes giving him away, and she seemed to nod when she saw what he did. When he was done, he followed her as she padded through the streets of Old Avannar, taking to a small building by the city wall and near the gate. She sat down by the porch of the small building and nudged her head towards it, giving him and expectant look. He nodded to her and took stock of it. The sign out front, and the two women sitting in the windows of the second floor who were beckoning to him with promises of giving him a good time, made it abundantly clear that this was a whorehouse.

"Here?" he asked in surprise.

She gave him a direct, steady look, slightly amused, and still expectant.

What wisdom could he learn in a place like this? Did she mean for him to actually hire a whore?

She nodded once.

He gave her a surprised look. "Why?"

The look she leveled on him was… strange. Though there was no direct communication, he seemed to take from that look that she was serious about it. Kyven wasn't a virgin, so it couldn't be about some kind of rite of adulthood among Shaman or something. He, like many young men in a mining village, had availed himself of the local whorehouse more than once, which had sprang up to service the miners working the mountains nearby. Holm didn't frown on it, and it was one of the few things that the older apprentices could spend their money to get that they couldn't get at the shop. So there wasn't really anything he could learn here that he hadn't already experienced earlier in life.

But she seemed quite serious about it. And he wasn't going to disobey her.

He stepped up onto the porch, removed his blindfold and tricking light, and then entered a dark, stale-smelling receiving room where several women either wearing elaborate costumes or very little at all were standing near the far wall or talking with a few men who had also come to enjoy the services the place had to offer. An older woman wearing a frilly red dress approached him and gave him a false smile. "Welcome to Salina's," she said. "Which of yon ladies most takes your fancy, young man? I dare say they probably won't mind a frolic with a handsome fellow like yourself."

Kyven looked at them. Tall, short, fair skin, dark skin, and everything in between, the nine ladies standing in line shared only thinness among them and at least a passingly attractive face. Being pretty was no requirement for a prostitute, but the prettier ones would certainly do better than a place like this. So while the nine weren't ugly, none of them were particularly pretty either.

He wasn't quite so sure about this. What was the fox up to? She wanted him hire a whore… why? What lesson did it teach? What would he learn? Nothing, that's what. He'd been to whorehouses before. This wasn't anything new to him. He wasn't even particularly in the mood. But, since he was male, the sight of half-dressed women was starting to make him consider it. It had been a few months, after all.

He looked them over, regarding each one in turn, but one of them… stood out. That was the only explanation he had. She stood out. She was just on the good side of plain, with a moderately attractive face, shoulder-length brunette hair, and brown eyes. She was thin, with small breasts and narrow hips, almost waifish, wearing a red dress that tried to show off what cleavage she had. She looked to be about seventeen or eighteen, and looked as falsely interested in him as all the other girls, nothing but a front so they could earn a little money. "Her," he said, singling her out.

"Marya, eh? Twenty chits for a turn of an hourglass, or fifty chits and you can have all the fun you want with her," she offered.

"I think an hour would do it," he told her, fishing the chits out of his pocket. He paid the madam, and the girl took his hand with an empty smile and led him to the stairs in the back.

"Hi, I'm Marya," she introduced as she took him upstairs, and brought him to the first door on the left. It was a spartan place with a single small window framed by faded curtains, with nothing but a rickety-looking bed. "Anything in particular you like? I'll go down if that's what you fancy," she told him as she closed the door behind them.

"Uh, no, that's alright," he said to her as she pulled her dress over her head without any pretense, showing him a thin, almost bony back, very slender waist, and small rear end. She turned and faced him, and he couldn't help but pass his eyes over her small breasts and that inviting patch of dark hair down under her navel.

He wasn't entirely in the mood, but he could bring himself to manage it.

"We don't have much time here, tiger," she said with a cute little smile. "Think you might wanna take your clothes off?"

Kyven blinked, then laughed. "Yeah, that might help," he agreed, reaching for the tail of his shirt.

Sex with the thin girl was like sex with any whore, which was generally fake. She wasn't really interested in him, but she also didn't want to seem bored, so she went through the motions of being excited when he undressed, played with him just long enough to get him ready, and then laid back and spread her legs in invitation. Despite not being in the mood when he arrived, months without any sex had finally got him in the mood once he was looking down at a naked girl with her legs spread, showing him her vagina, and her finger crooking at him in invitation. He climbed on her and did as the fox wished, had sex with her, mechanical, unemotional sex that simply allowed him to satisfy physical desire. She moaned as he penetrated her, but he wasn't sure if it was honest or fake, since Timble often noted that the whores at The Pink Crystal would moan like they were blind with lust if you so much as touched their petticoats. She continued to moan through it, low, long moans as she lay there and allowed him to thrust into her. He was as distant as she, not caressing or kissing, just leaning over her and having sex. His lack of real excitement or arousal made it take a while until he finally climaxed, and even that wasn't entirely fulfilling or noteworthy. He was doing this because he was told to do it, and it certainly showed in his performance.

After it was over, he rolled off of her and laid on the bed to recover, and she rolled over on her side and looked at him curiously. "Not much zest there, tiger," she said with a surprisingly cute smile. "What was that about? The only part of you that was really enjoying that was your dick. You could have had as much fun with your hand, and it would have been free."

"To be honest, I'm not sure why I came," he told her sincerely. "I guess just because it's been a while since I've been with a woman."

"Well, you look like the loner type. Miner?"

"Prospector."

"Ah. How long?"

"A few months."

"Well, I won't deny that it wasn't fun," she told him honestly. "It could have been more fun if you'd have been a little more enthusiastic. You didn't play with my tits or anything."

"I thought whores thought it was just business," he noted.

She chuckled. "A girl can't fuck every day and not enjoy it sometimes," she said honestly. "It depends on the man. You're a fairly handsome man, young, you have a nice body, and you weren't rough. I really was enjoying it there, hon, those moans weren't fake."

"I thought you weren't all that enthusiastic when we came in. You just pulled your dress off and got to the point."

She laughed. "Well, you only have one turn of the glass, and it's not a full half hour, it's more like fifteen minutes," she admitted. "Salina uses a short-timed glass to milk more money out of the customers that don't buy the fifty chit session. You know, make them run out of time right in the middle of it and make them buy another half hour."

Kyven chuckled. "Clever. Devious, but clever."

"I wanted to hurry because I wanted to give you your money's worth," she winked.

"Well, thank you, I appreciate that."

"Sure you don't want to buy a little more time?" she asked with an inviting little smile. "A girl couldn't do much better than that sweet dick of yours and the fact that you both know how to use it and you don't get off on slapping girls around."

He laughed. "I'd be even less in the mood a second time," he said with complete honestly.

"Well, you know, now that I've had it and found it enjoyable, I'd be much more enthusiastic the second time," she said with a naughty little smile.

She was here.

Kyven looked away from the girl and towards the door, and saw the fox sitting in front of it, tail wrapped around her front legs, giving him a calm, measured look. She motioned at him with her muzzle.

What did that mean?

There was a knock at the door. "Time's up!" the woman Salina called. "If you want more time, either buy another half hour or pay fifty chits for a full session!"

The fox nodded once, staring right into his eyes.

Again? Why?

She only gave him that amused look, and then her form seemed to meld with sudden shadows, causing her to vanish.

"Come on, dear, pay up or get dressed!" Salina called.

Kyven stood up and fished his pouch from his pants, then counted out fifty chits, then opened the door just enough to hand them out to her. "I'm having too much fun for just another half hour," he said to her dryly, pouring them into her hand.

She gave him a sweet smile. "That's what we're here for, dearie! Have fun now!" she said as she closed the door for him.

The whore, Marya, gave him a surprised look. "What changed your mind, tiger?" she asked curiously.

"Well, I can't very well just walk off without seeing if it's really possible for a whore to orgasm," he noted.

She laughed. "You gotta work for it," she teased as he sat back down, then slid back onto the bed.

She was a much more sensual once he recovered, and her responsiveness made him responsive as well. He touched, kissed, and caressed as they coupled for the second time, fully sexually aroused, doing more than just going through the motions. He touched her, kissed her, tasted her, experienced her, and it was actually pleasurable the second time, so much so that they were both drenched with sweat and the bed was banging against the wall as she groaned and clutched onto his shoulders with her small yet strong hands, then she cried out and dug her nails into him, either climaxing or doing a good job faking it. He climaxed quickly after her, then collapsed on top of her and tried to recover his breath.

"Now that had zest, tiger," she said with a breathless laugh. "I'm glad you bought a second try. Was it more fun than the first?"

"That's a silly question," he said between breaths. He wasn't sure why the fox made him do it a second time, but he had to admit, he actually enjoyed it that time. "So, did I do the impossible?"

She laughed. "You can go brag to all your friends that you made a whore come," she told him with a lusty sigh.

He laughed. "I feel honored."

She gave him a teasing little kiss, then slapped him on the backside as he rolled off of her and sat on the edge of the bed. He reached for his trousers, but she reached between his legs and took firm yet gentle grip of his genitals. "Third time's a charm," she invited, kissing him on the cheek.

"I'm afraid it'll have to wait for some other time, I'm about done," he admitted. "But I did have fun, so thank you for that."

"Hey, you bought a good time, just glad I could give it to you," she grinned as she let go of him. "Think you might come back and see me again soon? I don't have many customers that can make me come. I'd like to keep them. It makes this job worth doing, you know."

"I don't know when I'll be through Avannar again."

"Well, next time you do, wander by, I'd be happy to see you again. Girls do like to come when they fuck."

"Such nice language," he laughed.

"I'm a whore, sweetheart, and if you didn't notice, this isn't exactly a high class establishment. I don't think you should expect much gentile veneer."

He laughed even louder. "True," he agreed. "But I'm not used to hearing it quite so… directly. In the village where I'm from, the women in the whorehouse try to be, well, ladylike."

"Pretenders," she grinned. "At least I'm an honest whore."

"I'll give you that."

He finished dressing, then left the place without much more chat. What was that all about? Some kind of reward for good behavior? Some need to make sure he wasn't a virgin? He didn't know. But, either way, he wouldn't argue with the fox, nor would he disobey her. It wasn't like he was dragged into that room at knifepoint, and besides, he did have a good time.

He still wasn't sure what lesson he was supposed to learn from it. Maybe it wouldn't become apparent until later.


The fox sat on the bed and watched the thin whore put her dress back on, humming to herself. She pulled her dark hair back from her face, then gave a little sigh and went out and back downstairs, thoroughly satisfied by what was a more pleasant client than usual. The girl's body was bright to those who could see the spirit world, bright and vibrant, the aura of one much more closely attuned to the spirit world than most other humans.

The girl was just below the cusp that would have made her Shaman, more sensitive to the spirit world than other humans, but lacking the ability. Had her Shaman looked at her with his spirit eyes, he would have seen it. But regardless of that, he could still sense it, feel it, which was what made him choose her rather than the others.

This was an investment of time and effort that would take time to blossom and grow. In nine months, the fox's investment would bear fruit, and it was an investment best not revealed to her Shaman. It may interfere with what lay ahead.

He thought this was some lesson to him whose meaning escaped him, or a reward for good behavior. It was best to simply let him think thusly. She would have to lead him to other women in the future to maintain that false impression so he was not suspicious in the times she honestly wanted to breed him.

After all, she was a spirit of guile and deceit, and her Shaman was not exempted from her nature. If her Shaman could not appreciate that fact, he would be in for a rude awakening. She would deceive him when it suited her purposes.

Her form joined to the shadows and melted away.


The tryst with the whore were largely forgotten by the time he got back to his tiny room, for he was faced with a rather challenging problem.

Someone had stolen his shockrod and daggers.

While he was frolicking with that girl, someone, perhaps one of the Arcans, maybe the innkeeper himself, had come into his room and taken the only valuable things he'd left here.

Kyven sat down on the bed and considered how to go about doing something about this. The obvious thing to do was go to the innkeeper and report the theft. The innkeeper was a gentleman and a courteous man, so he rather doubted that it was the innkeeper who had done it. Kyven had been nothing but polite and obedient while staying in the room the man gave him, and so the odds were, the innkeeper would return his stolen goods.

But that act carried with it possible unforeseen consequences. The cat Arcan was fully in his mind when he considered that, that his report of the theft might get the perpetrator sold off, or maybe even killed or otherwise savagely punished. The innkeeper was a fair and decent man to other men, he had no idea how he treated Arcans.

So, given he couldn't control what happened, and he didn't want to get another possibly innocent Arcan killed through his own actions, he considered other possibilities. He could search for his missing items himself, which wasn't a guaranteed outcome since he couldn't see them with spirit sight, and would therefore have to search the inn like any other thief, or he went to the Arcans himself and demanded his items back from them. He sat on the edge of his bed for quite a while, considering his options, and then made his decision. He packed up his gear, then went back out into the yard and made his presence known at the kitchen door. "Leaving?" the male mouse Arcan that had first shown him the room asked when he came to the door.

"For tonight," he answered. "I have a message for you, though."

"For the master?"

"No, for you," he said. "I will say only this. I will be back tomorrow morning. If what was taken from me is returned, I'll be on my way without saying a word, no questions asked. If what was taken from me is not returned, then I'll have to take the matter up with someone of authority. Do you understand me?"

"Are you accusing me of stealing?" he demanded hotly.

"Did I say it was you?" he returned simply. "I'm just giving you the message. How you use it is your affair, but mark my words, I will do exactly as I've said. Either I get back what belongs to me tomorrow morning, or your master will be dealing with the Crystalcutters' Guild and the Loremasters."

The mouse's ears wilted.

I'll come to the stable gate at dawn tomorrow," he said. "Just have them laying on that table," he said, pointing to the little table where he usually ate his meals. "That way, not a word need be said, nobody you may care for gets in trouble, and everyone leaves happy."

The mouse gave him a strange look.

"Good day, sir," he said simply, then he turned and walked across the yard and out of the stable gate.

Kyven left the inn behind, not sure what to do now. He still wasn't entirely sure what task the fox had for him in Avannar, unless she brought him all the way here just to prove to him that the Loremasters were a danger to him. He put on his blindfold and decoy as the sun began to set, and decided to spend the time practicing. Once the sun went down and night took over, it was the perfect time to practice spirit sight. It was a passive ability, but it still took time and training to master what he was seeing. In the city, where he could see the people but could not see the walls or buildings or ground and what might be on it, it was the perfect place to work on seeing what was not living, as the wolf said was possible. The wolf said he could see his clothing and his daggers, where Kyven couldn't see them… so that was something to practice. He spent almost the entire night lurking the streets, watching people, trying to see the non-living even as he worked to be more natural moving around using nothing but spirit sight. It was certainly educational, if only because he could see all the people, all the rats, and all the bugs. These people had no idea how many rats were living in the sewers under their feet, but Kyven could see them as a swarming mass of vaguely visible life deep under the ground, having to see them through the dark mass that the ground presented to his eyes. He could only see it when he was standing directly over the sewer tunnels, a shimmering life under his feet, under the cobblestone streets. Kyven saw the thieves moving about, saw more than a few watching him, casing him, but they didn't understand that he could see them through walls, so they could not ambush him or sneak up on him. He was also much more adept at moving through the darkness than they were, and all it took to lose them was to drop into the nearest unoccupied dark alley and then mimic his totem, vanishing into the shadows by deactivating the glowing green light pinned to his headband with a single touch, and dropping back into the dark shadows, vanishing from sight.

Over the night, he felt that he'd gotten a little better. Seeing the non-living was a matter of paying attention and perception, he guessed, so he tried to focus on what wasn't there rather than focus on what was. He could see what was there, so it wasn't what he had to worry about.

It was strange. Ever since he'd started down this path, he'd been staying up at night, usually all night. He'd literally become nocturnal since taking up Shaman training, and he didn't mind it all that much. He felt… comfortable in the night. With his spirit sight, he could see perfectly well, and it gave him all the advantages. And since he could just cover his eyes to hide their glow, it wouldn't give him away.

It did cause him to do a little work, though. About two hours before dawn, he was wandering the crooked back alleys of the oldest part of Old Avannar when he came across two men carrying a third figure, a living one, one that struggled and thrashed between them as they toted it through the dark alleys. He couldn't see how the figure was restrained, but it was a rather young woman, maybe sixteen, her feet being held by one young, rail thin man and her shoulders behind held by the other, with her arms folded and pressed up against her chest. She had to be tied up or in a bag or something, but she was obviously in need of help.

He stopped and took stock. First, he asked if he could help her, then he asked if he should help her. He was certainly capable of helping her; he could easily deal with those two hooligans and spirit her away. Since he knew that he could help her, he wondered if he should. There was a lot of bad and injustice in the world, and he couldn't stop it all. He wasn't even sure if that's what he was supposed to do. It was the human reaction to want to help, for he'd been raised a law-abiding, honorable man. But his totem was a spirit of guile and deceit, and those traits didn't mix well with an upstanding, moral person. After all, he'd already killed another human being, so he'd lost his moral high ground forever. So, should he help the girl? It was, after all, no concern of his. No one would ever know if he did nothing.

But he'd know.

He quickly got ahead of them. He didn't have his daggers with him, but there were plenty of other options… and he could always improvise. He waited just in the corner of an alley, looking through the building as they approached, and when they got near him, he boldly stepped out and called out. Both of them looked at him, dropping the girl and going for something at their belts, but it was already too late. They were looking at him. He channeled the spell of blinding light, centering it in his palm that was outstretched towards them, creating a cone of instantaneous, blinding like a hundred times brighter than the sun. Both men staggered back, hands over their faces as they cried out in alarm, and Kyven made his move. He bulled into the nearer man, making sure to avoid his hands and whatever might be in them that he couldn't see, then reared back and decked the other man with a closed fist, knocking him to the ground. As both men struggled, flailing about blindly and unable to see, Kyven grabbed for the woman. He felt canvas when he put his hands near her stomach, but couldn't see it; all he could see was her naked body. He grabbed the canvas and pulled, then bodily slung her over his shoulder and raced back the way they came. He turned the first corner and went down a crooked street, using the peculiar angular patterns on the ground where he knew street met building as a guide to stay away from the walls, then turning down a narrow, crooked alley that had nothing but cats and rats in it. He was too far from the two ruffians to see them, too many buildings between them with their faint glows all built up on each other to create a background that hid them, but he'd see them if they came too far up the street he'd just used. "Be silent, woman," he hissed as he heard her give a muffled grunt, struggling on his shoulder. "If you make too much noise, they'll find us!"

The woman fell still. He stayed quiet a moment, but saw no pursuit. He knelt down and lowered the woman to the ground, and noticed that she was rather pretty. Pretty, round face, thick blond hair, attractively thin without looking underfed, nice breasts, sexy little triangle of blond pubic hair crowning what her tightly pressed legs concealed, no doubt due to the bag around her. The nice part about spirit sight was that he didn't see her clothes, only her, and got to appreciate her nudity fully. To his eyes, she was laying there totally nude; he couldn't even see the bonds that were tying her up, nor the bag concealing her. That could be a curse when looking at an ugly person, but it was a blessing when looking at someone like her.

He fumbled around until he found the mouth of the bag, tied off with a rope, and worked the knots free. He opened it and pulled her to a seated position, then grabbed the seeming nothing in his hands and pulled it down. She didn't look up at him, in fact, her eyes had been closed the whole time, so he figured she must have a blindfold. The way she held her mouth and jaw, she was obviously also gagged. "Listen," he said in a very low voice. "I'm going to take off your gag. Don't scream, don't make any loud noises or they'll find us. Nod if you understand." She nodded vigorously. "Alright. Just zone a second." He looked at the back of her head and followed the peculiar way her hair was pressed down to puzzle out the location of the knots of her blindfold and gag. He found the knot of the gag, then used his sensitive fingers and natural dexterity to undo it without being able to see it. She made a spitting sound as he pulled the invisible cloth away from her head, then took a cleansing breath. "Untie me!" she whispered.

"I can't see your bonds," he whispered to her as he pulled the bag down to her waist. He slid his fingers along her arms and down to her wrists and felt the ropes, keeping only her hands tied. He worked out the knot with his fingers, all but straining his eyes to try to see that which was not living, but unable to make anything out. She tore her hands apart once he had them free, then reached for her blindfold and tore it off before he could stop her. She opened her pretty blue eyes and looked around, peering uncertainly, then looked up at him, trying to focus on him. "Who are you?"

"No one of consequence," he said in a hushed whisper as a quartet of men came up the crooked street. He put his hand over her mouth suddenly and hunkered down into against the wall. "Someone's coming," he said in a whisper, which quelled her resistance to his silencing hand. Her eyes became fearful as Kyven waited in tense silence, as a tall, burly quartet of men closed on them. All four of them were holding something in their hands, and the brilliant red light at the base of them, under their hands, told him that whatever they were, they were alchemy. There were other red lights on them, three more each, which had to be other alchemical devices. He was seeing the crystals that were in them, a pair of nine point red crystals in those devices in their hands… nine points. Nine points. Shockrods? Possibly shockrods, maybe firetubes. He'd bet shockrods though, firetubes posed too much risk of setting the city on fire. Were they the city watch? Maybe. Whoever they were, they were heavily armed and carrying some alchemical devices.

Kyven let go of the girl and stood up, and while she seemed to turn towards they alley, he realized that they had to be carrying lights of some kind. He'd bet that they were the watch. And if they were the watch, then Kyven did not want to explain to them how he stole the girl away from the kidnappers. He backed up, backed into the shadows, then turned and padded back to a corner of the alley and looked through the wall. The four men reached the mouth of the alley, and the girl gave a squeal and called out to them. "Loreguard! Loreguard, help me!" she called.

Kyven was right. They were Loreguard.

The four men came over to her and saw her in the state she was in. One of them knelt by her as the other three looked on. "What happened, girl?"

"I was abducted!" she told them with a relieved voice. "Please take me home!" she asked as she stood up and pushed at nothing, then gasped and pulled it back up over her waist.

The men chuckled, and the kneeling man reached out and grabbed that nothing. "Well now, I think we could do that… if you give us something in return," he said, yanking heavily on that nothing and pulling it down. The girl gasped and was pulled off her feet, falling on her side in the alley, and the men started to laugh as the kneeling man grabbed the girl and pulled her towards him as he pulled at something at his waist. Kyven realized that the man was freeing his erect penis from his trousers.

Kyven was stunned. He watched as members of the Loreguard, defenders of the law of Noraam, stood by and watched one of their own rape that girl. Kyven had a sickening front row seat, watching as he forced himself on her, pushing her face into the stone of the alley as he penetrated her from behind. He saw the girl's face contort in pain as she whimpered when the man forced himself on her, then grab her by the hips and violently thrust into her.

This was what the fox brought him to see. This showed him who the Loremasters really were. Thugs. Brutes. No better than the animals they said the Arcans were. But they were also almost countless in number, controlling the entire continent of Noraam, and not someone that he could fight.

He was torn by a moment of indecision. There were four of them, and they were heavily armed. He was just one man, and if they discovered he was a Shaman, he'd be chased to the ends of the earth. He debated what to do furiously as the man continued to rape the girl, as she choked and sobbed with her face pressed against the stones of the alley

That moment cost him dearly. The man raping the girl leaned over her, then drove his hand forward. The girl's entire body seemed to shudder, and she slumped forward. Her body seemed to flare with a sudden light, then quickly dimmed and vanished from his sight.

The bolt of lightning raged out of nowhere, a blinding flash that illuminated the alley for a split second. That instant showed Kyven at the end of the alley, the lightning connecting his palm to the rapist's head. The man was thrown back, a blackened mar on his forehead, his eyes open and glazed. The other three men raised those things in their hands, and a trio of jagged blasts of lightning roared back down the alley, but they found nothing but the wall. Kyven retaliated by putting only his hand out around the corner, and channeling the blinding flash of light, sending the light of a thousand suns raging back down the alley. The men staggered back, bowing over as they shook their heads, and heard one of them scream those dangerous words.

"Shaman! It's a Shaman!"

Kyven pulled up the blindfold so he could see with his normal sight, and was around the corner in a heartbeat. He punched the nearest one dead in the jaw, dropping him. He grabbed the shockrod of the dead man and used it like a club, smashing it into the face of another blinded man, then deliberately jammed the butt of the shockrod into the last man's hand and channeled the lightning spell through it, blasting him directly with a killing electrical attack. The man dropped twitching to the cobblestones, smoke wafting from the stomach of his white surcoat. He channeled it one more time through the rod, striking the man he'd punched in the back of the head with the blast, killing him instantly.

He wanted to do something more. He was furious, he was absolutely furious. He couldn't believe it. He just couldn't believe it! He saves the girl from the kidnappers, just to watch her die at the hands of the Loreguard? But what could he have done? Should he have stayed and then tried to explain, using deception to talk his way out of it? Or was the right thing to do to back off, as he had done, and attack them the instant the rape began, attacking three men whose attention wouldn't have been on him?

He felt absolutely sick.

She was there.

He dropped to his knees. He didn't want to look at her. He felt shamed. He felt as if he had failed her. He had failed, the girl had died, he'd tried to save her but he couldn't. He felt her right in front of him, then felt her paws come to rest on his shoulders. He opened his eyes and looked at her, saw her reared up on her hind legs and staring down at him. She stared right into his eyes, her own unwavering and sober.

Thus do you learn that sometimes, there is no correct answer, she seemed to communicate to him. There is no perfect solution. There is no happily ever after for every person. There is only the path that causes the least pain.

"This is wisdom?" he choked, looking down at the ground. "This is cruel!"

Life is cruel, she answered immediately and without emotion. Learn that lesson quickly, Shaman. Thus do you learn, and thus you gain wisdom.

"Is this the price I have to pay?"

You will know when I exact my price, she communicated to him.

"I could have saved her," he whispered emotionally.

Had you tried, you would be dead. The murder of the girl so surprised the onlookers that they were unable to respond to you. You have avenged her. And know that had you not rescued her, her death at those who took her would have been slow and agonizing. What she received here was a mercy by comparison. Take comfort in that small thing.

"It's not much consolation," he sniffed.

Wisdom is not a thing gained easily, she told him sagely. Claim the objects of these men as your prizes. You will have need of them. In the morning, after you recover your things from the inn, leave this place. Go south. There is more for you to learn.

"Just answer me one thing.

Proceed.

"Will all this be worth it?"

That depends entirely on your point of view. Now do as I have commanded. Time is short, others will be here very soon.

She took her paws off him and turned and padded away, her form vanishing into the shadows.

Kyven knelt there for a long moment. He–it was just indescribable how he felt. Sick. Betrayed. Angry. Useless. He did learn what the fox had to teach, but it had been a bitter, bitter lesson. For a man like him, young, kind, compassionate, maybe a little naïve, the harsh realities of the world were a cruel, rude awakening.

Perhaps, sometimes, there really was no right answer. There certainly hadn't been one this time. If the fox was right, then either the girl would have died alone, or he would have died with her.

Maybe it would have been better to die trying, but then again, the way he felt right now, that was just the coward in him talking, the coward that didn't want to face the truth.

He had begun this journey to learn about the fox, to find his answers. But now, now… he wasn't sure if he had made the right decision. But it was too late now. He was committed to this path. He could not run now, not after this. He had to persevere, even if it caused him pain, because he had to know. And some dark, small part of him, a part not moved by what he had just experienced, that part of him was telling him that the fox was right, and that there was more to learn from her.

And not all of it would be bad.

She seemed to care about him. She had saved his life, after all, and she had sent him to the whorehouse as some kind of reward. He couldn't believe that she had enjoyed making him do that, making him learn that bitter truth. It was what had to be done, or he would never gain the wisdom she wished to teach him.

He just fervently hoped that this was the last of such harsh lessons. Watching people die like that was something he could never get used to seeing.

He stood up, and moved to do her bidding, stripping the men of their alchemical devices, then melting into the night before people came out of the buildings around them. He knew people had looked down from windows, but the alley was dark, and he was hidden by shadows, so he was sure that they'd never catch him, he would be long gone from Avannar by the time they started looking for him. He took their shock rods, their other items, then vanished into the night. He had survived Avannar, and survived to learn the lessons the fox had to teach him in this place.

But he would never feel the same.

Chapter 05