Chapter 5

The running scoured it all away.

One foot in front of the other, over and over, hours on end. Kyven ran south from Avannar just after dawn, and he ran to put it out of his mind. It had been a veritably brutal lesson that the fox had taught him, a stark lesson about life, death, and the choices that one made that could lead to either. The lesson was that sometimes there was no choice that could prevent death, or the death of another, so the wisest course was to minimize the damage. But the other lesson in that to him was get over it. She was toughening him up, it seemed to him, showing him the worst aspects of life first to teach him how to cope with the harsh reality he'd never seen in the village of Atan and the comfort of his shop. He must seem naïve to her, immature, maybe even too idealistic, but it was just who he was. Kyven was a kind soul at heart, more willing to help than harm, even strangers. Perhaps she saw that as a negative trait, and sought to strip it out of him. Perhaps she saw it as a positive trait, and sought to help him hold onto it despite seeing how ugly the world could be by getting the worst out of the way right up front… because he didn't think it could get much worse than that, saving that girl just to watch her die.

The running was almost therapeutic. Surprised merchant trains watched him pass them up as he ran steadily south, roving detachments of Loreguard saw him pass them and wondered just where he was going so quickly, but did not chase him down. He lost himself in the running, almost feeling like he was training again, running through the night as he chased the wolf. But there was no wolf now, just him, and the forest was split by a road, and it was daytime instead of night. He ran hard, as hard as he could run and maintain his pace for at least three hours, putting as much distance as possible between him and Avannar.

He never wanted to go back there again.

At least his subtle threat issued to the mouse had been effective. When he returned to the stable at dawn after hiding to wait out the night, his fake shockrod and all five throwing daggers were sitting on the table for him. The Arcans had decided to take his offer and just return his things and leave it at that.

He had real shockrods now. Four of them, in fact. He'd taken a total of sixteen items from the Loreguard, four from each of them, and each of them carried identical items. The first item all four carried was the shockrod. The second was a small portable light, directional rather than a lantern, shining a beam of light in a very narrow cone in one direction. The third item was a little item Kyven had heard of, but had never seen, a talker. It used another alchemical device on the other end that allowed two people to talk in real time across great distances, and Kyven had yanked the crystals out of those things almost as soon as he realized what they were. The Crystalcutter's Guild headquarters in each town had something similar to it, but that device sent a message to all devices to which it was connected. This device was selective; the controller on the other end picked which talker he wanted to talk to, and only that talker could then communicate with the master device. Each of the four devices he'd taken had had a number stamped on it, probably its identifying number so the controller knew who had which one. The fourth device was a signaling device, that would send a brilliant red flare into the sky when activated, a signal to all nearby Loreguard to converge on that point.

Those devices might be useful.

Kyven ran hard and fast as long as he could, then he stopped, rested, took a meal, and took a much more steady pace that he could hold literally all day, stopping only to drink and to relieve himself. Freeburrough was fifty minars south of Avannar, a trip that usually took three or four days on foot. Kyven reached it by midafternoon, and ran right through. He ran until he was utterly exhausted and literally could not run anymore, almost collapsing in midstride. He had just enough energy to stagger off the road, find a place that was somewhat sheltered and hidden to keep curious travelers from rifling through his things, and then slept. He slept like the dead, but when he woke up, at least he didn't have that overwhelming hunger that he'd had when under the blessing the wolf cast on him. It was just normal hunger… but he had acquired a taste for meat. Specifically raw meat. He attended that taste quickly when he woke up in the middle of the night, tracking down and killing a deer, then going through his practice session to exhaust himself using Shaman magic. He slept again afterward, then woke up with that familiar dreadful hunger… as well as unwelcome visitors. A pair of large wolves were working up the courage to rush in and grab the carcass and drag it off, but they backed off when Kyven woke up and realized they were there. They didn't run away, lurking nearby as Kyven attacked the carcass and ate as much as he could, but he then took only a small amount of meat, wrapped it, and left what was left for the hungry wolves to enjoy.

He was starting to feel a little better. It was going to be a wound in him for a long time, but it wasn't raw and bleeding now. He still had more to do, more to see, and he had to focus on the task at hand, not dwell eternally on the past.

It was one hundred minars from Avannar to Riyan, the next good sized town to the south of Freeburrough, a journey that would usually take six or seven days on foot, but Kyven managed it in two, the pace of a cantering horse, arriving late in the afternoon. Riyan was built on a wide yet very shallow and rocky river called the Rushing River. It was a city of about five hundred buildings, fairly large, supported by huge tobacco farms on the south side of the river. Riyan was the tobacco hub of northern Noraam, where tobacco was grown, bought, sold, and made into pipe tobacco to be sold all over Noraam, even shipped across the Angry Sea to Eusica. Tobacco from the lands south of Riyan was also shipped up here by wagon, from the tobacco growing kingdoms of Cedon and Chaton, sent to the tobacco capitol of Noraam. Once it arrived here and was processed along with the locally grown tobacco, it was packed into small wooden barrels here in Riyan and then shipped down the Bay Road to Stinger Bay, the main port city for central Avannar. Like Atan, Chardon, Avannar, and Riyan, Stinger Bay was a free city, independent, not part of any kingdom, as was the way of things in central Noraam. The kingdoms existed to the north and south of what was called the Free Territories by those who hailed from outside of the region.

Riyan had had city walls long ago, but they'd been torn down and used to build warehouses and shops and houses as Riyan expanded quickly after the Loremasters unified Noraam, leaving behind buildings made of stone that were made of randomly different colored blocks that gave the place a rather unusual look. Riyanners were a rather tolerant lot, all about the business of tobacco, so much so that they didn't grow enough food to feed themselves. Food was shipped in from Freeburrough and Avannar to cover the deficit, because farmers could earn much more planting tobacco than they could planting corn or wheat or beans.

He wasn't sure if he was supposed to stop here for a while, the fox didn't tell him where to go, but he did want to lay over for the night. He was tired, and didn't particularly relish the idea of waking up to find a pack of wolves looking down at him. There were plenty of inns in Riyan, and he availed himself of the first one he came across. It was called the Layover, and it was staffed mostly by humans, with only one Arcan, a rare male skunk Arcan; skunks were rare because they shared the same defensive abilities as normal skunks, and most humans didn't care to own an Arcan that could spray them with musk. Because they were rarely bred, most skunk Arcans were captured from the wild, and so they tended to be stupid and edgy… which made people not want them. This Arcan wore only an apron and a collar, pushing a broom across the common room's polished wooden floor.

Kyven came up to the bar in the crowded common room, full of merchants, caravan hands, and guards that escorted them to protect from the rare instance of a wild Arcan or monster attack, and got the attention of the steel-haired, tall, thin man tending bar. "Who do I talk to about a room?" he asked.

"That'd be me, fella," he answered. "Just for tonight?" Kyven nodded. "Well, I'm pretty much well booked up, but I have a little room off the stable if you don't mind it. If not, there's quite a few inns downtown that'd be happy to take you."

"As long as it's clean, I'm more than happy to take it," he said simply.

"Five chits and it's yours."

"Done."

"Rooms here come with a meal, so come back to the common room and get yourself something to eat."

"I'll be sure to do that."

"Stripe!" the man shouted. The skunk came over immediately and set his broom aside. "Take this man to the stable room," the man ordered, but Kyven wasn't listening to him. The skunk felt… strange to him. Different. Not normal.

The skunk nodded, then motioned to him to follow. Kyven did so, giving the skunk a penetrating look. He didn't look any different, but… he was. He just was. He just, well, stood out, and the closer he got, the more apparent it was.

The skunk led him out the side door and into a large, fenced in yard on the side of the inn, holding a very large stable and an exercise corral for horses. The skunk looked meekly at the ground as a trio of merchants passed them, then glanced back at them as he led Kyven towards a building beside the main stable.

"The spirits said you were coming," the skunk said in a very low voice.

Kyven gasped. "You?" he declared. "You're a–like me?"

He nodded. "You have things you took from Avannar. They say you are bringing them to us. Things taken from our enemies."

The fox did say that he needed them. Was this why she wanted him to take them? "I have them."

"Leave them in the room when you move on. I'll take care of it."

"I'm surprised. I didn't think, you know, I'd meet another."

They reached a door on the side of the building, and it opened to a very small room holding a bed, stand holding a wash basin, and a small table and chair near the window just down the wall from the door.

"There are some of us who watch over the humans," he whispered. "And watch over our brothers and sisters. So long as we don't do anything, our enemies cannot find us. I'm happy to have met you, human. To know that a human shares our gift actually gives me hope."

"How so?"

"If you begin to be more like us, then there's hope that they will not see us as animals," he answered. "It's a small hope, I know, because most humans are fearful and narrow-minded. But if they understand the spirits as we do, then maybe they will change."

"Possible. But to be honest, if they learn of the spirits as I have in the last week, they'd hate you."

"You are on the Walk," the skunk said, then he shivered uncontrollably. "It is a… difficult time. I remember mine. Some nights, it still haunts me," he said honestly. "Wisdom is not something you gain easily, and the first lessons are often the harshest."

"Amen," Kyven sighed.

"Not all are suited for such wisdom," the skunk said simply. "But the spirits demand it of us, if we are to be their messengers. They will only accept those who see that which most others do not." He put his furry paw on Kyven's shoulder. "Just persevere, brother. Soon the Walk will be over, and you will take your place among us." He leaned close. "How many spells have you been taught?"

"Three," he whispered back.

"Three already? I was on my Walk for two months before I was granted three," he said in surprised, hushed tones. "Your spells are your rewards. When you are given a new one, you have gained wisdom. They come slowly at first, but then they come quickly, until you know all which the spirits wish you to know."

"I hope that's a good sign."

"A very good sign," he whispered with a nod. "Fare well, brother. Remember, leave them here. I will take care of them."

"I will."

The skunk left him, and left him feeling a little more hopeful. If he was ahead of schedule, as it were, then maybe this wouldn't be as bad from here out as it had been so far. The skunk said that the harshest lessons came first, and his first two lessons had certainly been very harsh. Hopefully there weren't many more like the last one, or he'd probably go insane.

He had trouble sleeping at night now. He went back for dinner and then wandered the city randomly as darkness fell, watching drunken men, whores, and thieves replace the merchants and farmers on the streets. He again put on his blindfold and trinket and pretended to be blind, using his spirit sight to keep an eye on things and also to practice with the ability. He'd gotten quite adept with it, was starting to make out outlines of clothes, weapons, and other things by the aura of tiny things that lived on them, while he simultaneously both enjoyed and was cursed with the ability to see those around him as they looked without clothes. It was a boon when looking at the more shapely whores, but a bane when fat, slovenly men staggered past drunkenly.

Just the punishment that came with the reward, he supposed.

He came across her deep in the city, at a major intersection of the Tobacco Road with the Stinger Bay Road. She was seated sedately in the middle of the crossing, tail wrapped around her legs, and it seemed she was simply waiting for him. He wasn't entirely happy to see her. The last time had been traumatic. But if that fact mattered to her, it didn't show in the slightest. She looked directly at him, then nudged her muzzle to her left, motioning at the Stinger Bay Road.

That was the direction she wanted him to go.

He nodded to her, and she stood up and approached him. He wasn't sure what he should do, back up, hold his ground, or what. After Avannar, he was a little afraid of her. But she was his totem, she was still the spirit that had watched over him most of his life, and he had to keep his faith in her, his trust in her. He couldn't believe that she enjoyed making him learn those lessons any more than he liked going through it.

He decided to hold his ground. It might look strange if he knelt down to her level out here in the middle of the street, since nobody could see her but him. She reared up on her hind legs and put her front paws on her chest, and in that touch, there was communication.

She was teaching him another spell!

The spell she taught him was fire. It produced a blistering cone of fire, a spell that mimicked the function of a firetube… or a firetube mimicked the function of this spell, either way.

Strange. She was a spirit of guile and deceit, yet so far she'd only taught him two spells that really served those roles, the silencing spell and the flash of light.

Most of my spells require you to maintain them, and you are not ready yet, she communicated to him simply, through that contact. Your body is not ready. Continue to practice. When you are capable of casting maintained spells, then you will learn the magic I wish to teach.

He remembered that silencing spell, how he had to actively maintain it, and how it continued to channel magic through him while he did. He hadn't been able to hold it for very long.

He nodded to her in understanding, looking down at her, as she looked up at him with her glowing eyes.

Do as the skunk Shaman asks. Leave the items from Avannar with him. He will make effective use of them.

He nodded again. She pushed off of him and lowered herself to the ground, then turned and padded away from him. She seemed to meld with the shadows, and she was gone.

So, he was going to Stinger Bay. He wondered what she had to teach him there.

Trinity, he hoped it wasn't anything like he'd learned in Avannar.


Kyven left the items in his room when he left the next morning, as he was told.

And Trinity, not a moment too soon.

Riyan was all but invaded at dawn by an army of Loreguard. They marched in after he left the inn and moved on his way, but he was stopped and detained by them along with every other man and woman on the road. They rounded up anyone moving, anyone at all, then took them to their encampment north of town. Kyven was a little worried about this, because he had no idea what was going on, right along with everyone else, and he had a much bigger reason to be afraid. But when he was put in the middle of a field surrounded by Loreguards, he realized that they did not take his weapons, nor anyone else's. Men and women wearing Loreguard surcoats were sitting on chairs at little folding tables as they talked to townsmen, and men were pulled from the throng to replace men who were allowed to get up and leave the encampment. Clearly, the Loreguard was asking questions, and nothing more. But over what?

He found out quickly. He was herded to a small table and told to sit opposite a young, rather pretty woman with blond hair, but she wore a chain hauberk and was carrying both a shockrod and a pair of mahogany-handled pistols. The woman had high cheekbones, a pert nose, a slightly squared chin, and handsomely sloped eyebrows, with long blond hair tied away from her face with tiny braids that were done at her temples and pulled back, capturing the rest of her hair like a leather thong. It was hard to get a sense of her figure under that chain jack, but she looked to have nicely proportioned breasts and a slender waist. She was quite an attractive young woman, older than him but couldn't be any more than twenty-five, more handsome than pretty and looking quite serious and sober. But Kyven found her to be very, very attractive. She put a piece of paper in front of herself on the table and took out a pencil from her surcoat.

"Name?" she asked bluntly, in a mellow, rich voice.

"Kyven Steelhammer."

"Profession?"

"Crystalcutter."

She gave him a searching look, frowning, then nodded. She didn't believer him, but was taking him at his word? Or did she have some kind of alchemical device that would tell her if he was lying?

He had to be careful here.

"Have you been to Avannar within the last week?"

"I was."

"Do you know anything about the murder of four Loreguard?"

So that's what this was about. Kyven weighed his words carefully. "Know anything? No."

It was true. He didn't know anything, he knew everything. So he gave a correct, truthful answer… given the wording of the question.

"Have you been approached to buy a shockrod or other alchemical devices in the last three days?"

"No."

"What's a crystalcutter doing with mining gear?" she asked curiously.

"I've bought out my indentured contract and bought a stake in a shop in my home village, and I did it with money I earned prospecting in my spare time. But taking over in the shop will pin me in that place for the rest of my life, so before I go spend the rest of my life there, I'm out to see the world."

"Ah. Thank you, you may go."

He both couldn't resist and also wanted to check something. He stood up and waited for her to look down at her paper and write on it, in some language he'd never seen before, and then he pulled his trinket out of his pocket. He activated it at the same time as he opened his eyes to the spirits, immediately turned his glowsetting back off, and looked this young lady over. Now that the table and her clothes were no longer blocking his view, he saw that she was carrying no less than six alchemical devices, including black crystals in her pistols.

And she had really nice breasts under that chain jack, a slender, sleek waist, and a pert little triangle of pale blond pubic hair. Too bad she wasn't in that whorehouse. She was the first woman he'd seen in quite a while that had produced that kind of response out of him, but she was a Loreguard, and thus was a woman who was out of reach.

As quickly as he opened his eyes to the spirits, he closed them. It wasn't just to ogle the woman, it was to see if they could somehow detect it if he used Shaman powers. Nobody outside of the Shaman yet knew that a human had Shaman ability, so he was putting the Loreguard to the test in a daring experiment to see if they could detect his powers.

His question was answered quickly, as one of the devices under the woman's surcoat suddenly let out a high-pitched whine. She jumped up and glared at him, a hand going to her pistol, and he staggered back with a feigned surprised look on his face. "What did you do?" she demanded, drawing her pistol and aiming it at him.

"Do? I don't understand."

"You used an alchemy device!"

"Oh. Oh! It's just this," he said, holding out the glowsetting. "It's hard to tell if I have it turned on in the daytime. I was just checking it."

She snatched it from his hand and inspected it, seeing that it was nothing more than a glowsetting, then gave him a look of disgust and pushed it back at him, then holstered her pistol.

"You should know better than to use things like this around the Loreguard!"

"Uh, we don't have any Loreguard in my village," he told her. "Just a Loremaster. I'm sorry, nobody's ever told me before."

"Move along, citizen," she grunted, sitting back down.

It told him much. The Loreguard could detect Shaman powers, but only when they were actively used. They also couldn't distinguish them from when mana crystals were in active use, and he also learned that not all Loreguard carried such devices. Those four Loreguard he killed certainly hadn't been carrying them. They must only be carried and used by officers like her, or Loreguard who had need of them.

He left the Loreguard camp with no one the wiser that the man they were looking for was slipping through their fingers. Kyven left with a better understanding of his Loreguard foes… and also left just a little turned on by that sexy Loreguard officer.

Well, the fox made it clear that she didn't mind him satisfying those urges. Hell, she'd sent him to a whorehouse herself. He'd have to do something about it once he got to Stinger Bay, because he wasn't too keen on the idea of staying here in Riyan with the Loreguard searching for him.

He made his way through Riyan, left town on Stinger Bay Road, and then stepped out into a loping run that only a horse could hope to match for any length of time, putting Riyan behind him. He knew the Loreguard would appear in Stinger Bay as well, but given how long it might take them to go through Riyan, he felt fairly certain that he'd be done with whatever the fox wanted him to do there before the Loreguard caught up with him.


Back in Riyan, the Loreguard officer sat in her chair, not yet calling for a new person to interview.

Something about that man seemed… well, off. But he had told the truth, her diviner had not heard a lie.

He was prospector, but he was in Riyan. That was possible if he just got off a boat in Stinger Bay and was on his way west… but he'd been in Avannar within the last week. Why was a prospector going south? He should be going west, not south, unless he was a stupid prospector.

He was a crystalcutter, not a prospector.

Strange, though. He clearly knew nothing about the attack in Avannar, yet he seemed, well… unusual. And that little episode with his glowsetting, that seemed, well… staged.

And the way he looked at her, it was like he was checking her out, was–

She flushed slightly. Well, he was cute.

Maybe she'd try to track him down after she was off duty.

Well, he was prospecting. Maybe she'd better make sure he was about when she was off duty.

"Sergeant," she called.

A tall Loreguard hurried over to her and bowed. "Yes, Captain Pannen?"

"That man I was talking to. Find him."

"Is he under arrest, ma'am?"

"No. I just want to ask him a few more questions, not related to this case. He'll be treated with courtesy, sergeant."

"Of course, ma'am," he said with a bow, then he turned and hurried off, barking orders to a quartet of soldiers stationed nearby.

She returned to her duties, interviewing several more men, but she kept glancing towards the road, looking for the black-haired man with the handsome green eyes to come back.

But he never did.

She called the sergeant back to her table after about an hour and asked about her order. "I still have men looking for him, ma'am, but I think he's no longer in Riyan."

"Well, he did look as if he was detained while getting ready to leave town," she reasoned. "He had all his gear with him. Thank you, Sergeant."

He bowed and left, and she stood and considered it a moment. She was intrigued, she had to admit it to herself. Kyven Steelhammer, he said his name was. A crystalcutter, bought into a shop but going on a bit of an adventure before he took up his place there. A strange happenstance, for they usually had their adventure to try to find money to buy into the shop after they finished their indentured service, so these circumstances were unusual. That would make him fairly easy to track down, at least in the records. The Guild of Crystalcutters would have him in their rolls, would tell her exactly which shop he worked at, since they'd have him listed as one of their artisans. So, she'd know where to find him once he finished his adventure and returned to his shop.

There was something teasing her about that man, and it wasn't just his sleek, handsome body and handsome face. It was the way he looked at her. She'd glanced up and caught him… ogling her. She was actually used to that, since she was a passingly handsome woman and her work kept her in shape. But there was something strange about it. She's not gotten more than the barest of glances, but his eyes were, well… strange. Captivating, but strange. The sunlight was in his face, making his skin glow and all but illuminating his eyes–

Eyes!

She gasped. His eyes had been glowing!

That was what was strange about it! She remembered it quite clearly now! It was just the briefest of glances, and the sun in his face made it very, very hard to see, but she was a detective, an investigator for the criminal investigation office of the Loreguard, and she was trained to notice small details. He owned an alchemical device the likes of which she'd never seen before, something that made his eyes glow like that, and he'd used it when she wasn't paying attention to him, using it to… what? Look at her? Check her out? His eyes hadn't been on her face, that was for sure. He was looking down, looking at her chest.

He was ogling her.

Well, not that that didn't flatter her a little bit, but it was still just damn strange. What did that device do? Who had built it? It wasn't illegal to own alchemical devices of unusual or non-standard design, but the Loreguard liked to know what was out there, how it worked, and who built it.

Now she was very curious. She'd never heard of an alchemical device that one could hold in the hand that affected the eyes. There were special goggles that could let one see in the dark that were alchemical, but they had to be worn over the eyes. Whoever had built it had to be a genius of an alchemist.

Avannar. He had to get that in Avannar. She looked over the scene again in her mind, with her unique ability to recall what she'd seen recently in great detail, a trick of memory that she could use on any memory that was less than a day old. She focused on his hand, and saw that the device had been brilliantly, almost immaculately clean, and had no scratches or mars that came when one had owned a device and carried it around with him for weeks and months. That thing was new, and he'd been to Avannar, a place famous all over the world for the advancement of its alchemists. Someone in Avannar had built that thing, and not told the Loreguard, was selling it under the table.

She had no idea what it did, but now it was going a little beyond curious and was becoming a matter of honest interest to the Loreguard. She needed to find out what that device did, and who had made it for him.

And in the course of her investigation, surely, she'd learn more about that mysterious man.

She turned over his report form and began to sketch him. Danna was an accomplished artist, it was her other true skill outside of being a very good investigator, and she often used it to earn extra money by selling her drawings and paintings. She could have been a professional artist, like her parents, but she was more interested in investigating, learning the answers to things, than she was drawing and painting. Her eidetic memory, coupled to her natural artistic talent, gave her the ability to reproduce amazingly detailed scenes and the faces of people on paper. That combination of talents was of use to her now, as she put down on paper an amazingly detailed drawing of the face and body that was still fresh in her mind, and would serve to keep that memory fresh by allowing her to look at it whenever she wished.

"We are working, Captain," her commanding officer said with a mildly amused tone, coming over to her table, who had no citizen at it for her to question.

"This is work, Major," she answered. "I have reason to believe this man has a unique alchemical device. After we complete this investigation, I'm going to look into it and see who made it for him."

"Ah. Carry on, then."

She'd look into it, alright. Then, when she found it, and found him, she'd use it to ogle him and see how he liked it.


Stinger Bay was a hundred and thirty minars from Riyan, which was a distance that Kyven traversed in a little under three days of constant steady running. The fox had told him to practice, but he was afraid to slow down enough to do that with the Loreguard behind him, afraid that they'd catch up to him, so he instead worked to increase his endurance by pushing himself to reach Stinger Bay in three days. It was going to take them a day or two to finish in Riyan, and then they had to march to Stinger Bay, so that gave him a few days at least to figure out what he had to do there and move on before the Loreguard reached the port city. They'd also be slowed down a little by stopping in the villages that Kyven had went through, which made him confident he'd leave them far behind.

Stinger Bay got its name because of the jellyfish. They drifted in on the tides and got caught in the Great Blue Bay, named for the blue crabs for which the bay was famous, until they were all but everywhere in the water during some times of the year. It was said that during high tide in the spring, one couldn't fall into the water and get out without at least ten stings from jellyfish.

Stinger Bay was a port city, and its entire focus was based on the ships that came and went from its natural harbor. Wooden sloops, caravels, galleons, clippers, and schooners shared space with military ironclads, hulking metal behemoths that moved by means of alchemy engines that turned propellers under the water, designs that were said to be recovered from the Great Ancient Civilization itself. The military ships looked like floating narrow villages, steel platform on which little buildings reached higher, its sides made metal plates which were welded together using alchemical welding machines, and then painted over to protect the metal from the corrosive effects of salt water. Metal naval ships were absolutely essential in the modern world, given that the enemy ships would be armed with cannons and alchemical weaponry that could burn the ship, serving both as armor against cannonballs and presenting a hull that alchemical firecone projectors couldn't burn. The lack of sails protected the ship from being crippled by grappling shots fired from cannons or fire. The metal hull also reduced the effectiveness of shockrods, he'd heard from rumor, the metal interfering with the path of the lightning and making it very hard to aim them.

Stinger Bay and Avannar were the main ports for trade in the Free Territories. Avannar's docks served the northern territories, and Stinger Bay served the south. The docks here moved goods and freight from all over the world, sending it down the Riyan Road and out into the Free Territories, but the main staple commodity that moved in and out of the city was tobacco, loading it on ships and sending it out to the rest of Noraam, and the world. Other goods were bought, sold, and traded in Stinger Bay, but here, tobacco was king, just as much as cotton was said to be king in the southern kingdoms of Noraam.

Kyven stood on a very gentle rise overlooking Stinger Bay. It was a sprawling city with no wall, dominated by huge warehouses, between which smaller houses, shops, and businesses were squeezed, with all of its streets wide and spacious to accommodate wagons passing each other side by side. It had to be twice as big as Avannar, but had far fewer buildings, and it looked much different than the old, packed streets of Old Avannar. Even from there, he could smell the tobacco. Most of those warehouses down there were filled with either loose leaf tobacco or barrels of pipe tobacco, the results of the first round of harvests of the growing season.

He wondered what he was doing here. He jogged down to the outskirts of the city, weaving in and out among wagons and carriages and horses, one of the few foot travelers. He walked down a cobblestone street once he entered the city, lined with cast iron lamps, and a look up at one of them gave him a start when he recognized the stamp of Virren's shop on one of them!

It shouldn't be a surprise. Atan was a craft village, devoted to the mining and refinement of crystals and the production of the devices that used them. The cutters were there because of the mines, and the alchemists were there because of the cutters… and most of the things they made were bought by merchants and shipped out of the village. Avannar too had many alchemists, but they paid more for the crystals than the Atan alchemists did because they had to pay the increased prices levied by the merchants that brought them from the mines. There were alchemists in almost every town and village, and usually at least one crystalcutter's shop, if only to have someone there to replace crystals in devices once the crystals in them were used up. But Atan was a production village, where alchemists produced quite a few items, far more than could be used by the village itself. There were probably devices made in Atan in just about every city in the Free Territories.

There was one thing he did want to do first, though. He got directions to the office of the Crystalcutter's Guild and went there, then filled out a message and asked them to forward it to Atan. It was a letter to Holm, apologizing for not keeping more stable communications, telling him that he was fine and that he was in Stinger Bay to maybe try out sailing as Holm had done, since he'd not done very well at prospecting. He didn't know if that was what the fox wanted, but he was in a port city and not out in the hills prospecting, so he had to give Holm some kind of viable reason why he'd be there.

That done, he explored the city of Stinger Bay. It was dominated completely by the tobacco trade and sailing, with warehouses, warehouses, and more warehouses, between which were squeezed shops and homes. The wealthy merchants lived on the west side of town, away from the harbor, while the area around the harbor was coated with inns, festhalls, and other businesses that looked to glean chits from the sailors who made port here. Some businesses supported maintaining the ships, and the rest supported the citizens with their daily needs. The streets were very wide and paved with cobblestones and bricks, where wagons moved back and forth between warehouses and the harbor. The place was pretty crowded, with lots of merchants and citizens on the west side, and a large majority of sailing men to the east. The Stinger Bay Watch moved in units of six men, armed with black clubs that Kyven identified as stunsticks, black metal rods that were alchemical devices that stunned the men they hit and immediately incapacitated them, no matter where they were struck by the rod. A glancing blow on the finger rendered a man senseless. They were non-lethal but highly effective.

It said something more to him that the Watch in another city carried non-lethal weapons, but the Loreguard carried lethal weapons when they patrolled Avannar.

Here, as in other cities, there were Arcans. They rode in wagons with humans, scurried along on the streets both with people and alone, and all of them were wearing collars, but strangely, none of them were wearing clothes. Not a single Arcan anywhere, not even the males whom many at the very least gave pants because, unlike females, the fur didn't hide their genitals. Well, it didn't hide female genitals either, but at least a female had to spread her legs to show someone, where a male just had to be facing forward.

Again, Kyven avoided the seedier side of town, but his money was starting to run low. But it was worth the cost in his eyes to avoid having to worry about defending his possessions. He chose a small, modest inn sandwiched between to warehouses, an inn that had no stable, which was named The Hideaway… and it was exactly that, not easily seen from the street. The innkeeper was a surprisingly young man with brown hair and a scar on his cheek, and two fingers missing from his right hand. He had two barmaids employed, and owned two identical-looking female canine Arcans, with gray fur and short, thick hair of the same color curled around their ears and head. They, like all other Arcans he'd seen in Stinger Bay, were naked. They weren't even wearing aprons.

"Rooms are three chits a night, with food extra," the innkeeper told him. "My rooms are clean, and what you do in it is your own affair just so long as you leave it in the same condition as you found it."

"Fair enough," he said with a nod, fishing enough to stay for three days out of his increasingly lighter and lighter purse. Soon, he'd have to either find work or find some way to get some money. "This is my first time here, so answer me a question."

"Sure."

"Why are all the Arcans here naked?"

"City law," he answered. "Dates back to back when Stinger Bay was the main Arcan trading city. Arcans kept escaping from the ships and pens and putting on clothes to hide their necks and manacles, so the city outlawed all clothing on all Arcans. Well, the hub of the Arcan trade moved down to Rellah, but there's still a few Arcan trading operations in town, and the old law remains cause we're all basically used to it around here."

"Oh. Guess that explains it."

"I don't see why people put clothes on Arcans in the first place," he snorted.

"Where I come from, it's the practice to keep male Arcans in pants," Kyven noted. "Because they look like people, and the women find the idea of looking at something that looks like what they'd see on people to be scandalous."

The man snorted. "Foolishness," he growled. "Why don't they make their dogs go around wearing clothes, then? God forbid they see a dog's balls. It amounts to the same thing."

Kyven chuckled. "Guess it's a matter of perspective."

"Where are you from, anyway?"

"Atan."

"Atan? That's a mining village. I figured it'd be more rough and tumble and not so stuck up."

Kyven laughed. "Well, we have a lot of craftsmen there, too, so the wives like to keep some semblance of proper society about town. But go up Miner's Road, out of sight of the women in the village, and the culture deteriorates rapidly."

The innkeeper chuckled. "Good. This ain't no prim and proper place. Like I said, what you do in your room ain't no concern of mine so long as you leave it the same way you found it. What happens in the common room also ain't my business unless you start breaking stuff."

"Doesn't that kind of policy cause problems when the patrons paw your barmaids?" he asked with a slight smile.

"Go grab their asses and see what they do," he said with a rough chuckle. "They'll either tell you to grab harder or hit you with their serving trays. Learning which does which is half the fun of it." He handed Kyven a key. "Oh, and the Arcans bite."

"I'm sure I wouldn't be grabbing them."

"Well, some men do. Sick fucks," he growled. "May as well go fuck a sheep as fuck an Arcan. First door on the left upstairs, fella."

"Thank you."

She was in his room, waiting for him. He started when he saw her on the bed in the surprisingly large, clean, and well appointed room, with a bureau, washstand, foot chest, wardrobe, and fairly large bed. All this for three chits a night? It seemed that he'd finally gotten some good luck in inns. The shadow fox sat on his bed, not in her usual pose, but instead hunkered down on her legs, laying down with her legs all tucked up under her and her tail swishing back and forth on the bed behind her. It seemed strange to see her so, almost… informal. She was relaxing, not her usual self. He wasn't quite sure what to do about it, how to approach her.

He let her initiate things, as she always did. And she didn't disappoint, raising her head and looking at him. To the left of her, another of those magical illusions appeared. It was a large clipper ship, with its four masts and spiderweb of rigging, its sails down and water spraying around its bow as it cut the waves. This ship was sailing, on the move, not anchored in the harbor. She beckoned to him with her muzzle, and he approached her. She bowed her head meaningfully. What did that mean? Did she want him to touch her? He'd never done that before. She was the one that always initiated contact with him, but it was fairly clear to him what she wanted of him. He reached out with a tentative hand, and then touched his fingers to the fur on the top of her head, between her ears. In that touch there was communion, and she seemed to communicate her instructions to him. This ship will arrive this afternoon, and intends to leave in three days. You will leave upon it.

"Where is it going?"

Where it goes is irrelevant. That you sail upon it is what matters.

"I understand. I'm almost out of money. How do I do this? I don't think I can buy passage."

How you do it is your own affair. Consider it a test, my human. You will be on that ship when it leaves in three days. Find a way.

"I will."

She pushed her head against his hands, her ears twitching. Not knowing what else to do, he scratched at her fur, and found it warm, tingly, soft, and almost luxuriantly thick. It was the first time he'd ever touched her, and the first time he'd ever even thought of it. He stroked her fur tentatively, running his hand down the back of her neck, felt the muscle beneath it. Though she was a spirit, she seemed to feel like a real animal, complete with muscles and warmth. He looked down at her, looked carefully, and could see the individual hairs in her coat, saw the black fur of her feet which were usually concealed by her tail when she was seated… and saw she had claws, almost like a cat. They were long, curved, and sharp, but not retracted the way a cat's would be, since her paws looked more canine than feline. She had put those paws on his shoulders and chest before, but had never noticed them.

A gray fox. She was a gray fox, or at least patterned to look like one, but with different coloration, the same way silver foxes were just red foxes with different coloration. Gray foxes were great climbers, easily able to climb trees, and with claws like that, he could see why.

Observant. But incorrect.

"I'm sorry–"

I would be a poor totem to punish you for curiosity, given I consider it to be an admirable trait, she communicated with light amusement. Do not assign such traits to the spirits. We appear as we wish to appear. I am the spirit of the shadow fox, and it was by my will that the shadow foxes came to be in the world.

"I've never heard of them."

They are there. They hide, for your kind would call them monsters. They shun most areas settled by humans, but there are some few who live near Atan.

Monsters. Animals touched by the power of the crystals and changed, mutated. Some were benign, like the Taurons that had mutated from cows and were becoming more popular as a staple livestock. Some ranchers were starting to favor them over normal cattle, because of very mild dispositions which made them very easy to handle, but they required more food and water because they were about twice the size of the average cow, which required vast amounts of grazing land to support a herd of Tauron. There were no Tauron around Atan, but the ranchers at Chardon herded Tauron in addition to regular cattle.

Some monsters, however, were very dangerous and had crystal-based abilities. They ate crystals and used them to power their abilities, which made them a double scourge. Not only were they dangerous, but they consumed the most precious natural resource to the human world.

Your people have never seen one of my children, she added lightly. They have the power to meld with the shadows, making them invisible in the night. That is how they hunt.

"A sensible way to go about it," he noted. "Do they eat crystals?"

No. They absorb the energy to grant them that power from the spirit world. It is a minor power and does not require so much energy as a crystal holds to enact. It is for them the same as spirit sight is for you, a passive ability.

"Ah. I understand. Does that make you a powerful spirit? I mean, you created your own breed of fox."

She seemed amused. Again, do not assign such things to the spirits. Such an observation would be extremely offensive to some. We do not measure ourselves against one another in such ways. We all merely are.

"Ouch. Thank you for telling me that before I really embarrassed myself. I will treat all spirits with equal respect, except for you. You are my totem, I must be especially respectful to you."

And thus do you gain wisdom, she intoned lightly. And the gaining of wisdom must be rewarded.

She taught him a new spell. It was a simple spell that was the opposite of the cone of fire, a spell that generated an intense blast of cold. Or, if used very lightly, it could chill water and make it delightful to drink. It was a spell that had uses both in and out of combat.

A spell such as that might be useful to you on a boat, she communicated to him quite seriously, which made him take notice of it. If there was ever a flat warning, that was it.

"I understand."

She slid out from under his hand, then jumped down onto the floor. She looked back up at him, her eyes sober, then walked directly through the wall and was gone.

Well, he knew why he was here now. He was here to catch a boat.

He considered his options. He had no idea what kind of ship it was or what it did, but odds were, if he tried to buy passage on it, they'd do it. So, his most obvious option was to earn money.

Earn. As much as he'd need, steal was a more correct term. Such an act wouldn't be seen as a bad thing to the fox, since she was a spirit of guile and deceit. If Kyven could steal the money he needed, she wouldn't care. If he could do it, it was actually a testament of his ability to use guile and deceit.

He considered the options. He'd need hard currency, and a lot of it. That was high risk, meaning he'd have to go after–

No. It was very simple. A shockrod was worth quite a bit of money, as were most alchemical devices, because of both the device and the crystal it contained. The Loreguard had plenty of them, and they had to have some Loreguard here. The Loreguard was his enemy. He just needed to waylay a Loreguard and strip him of his alchemical devices, pull the crystals, and sell them. If he felt comfortable selling the items themselves, he could also sell those, provided he could find buyers that didn't care that they'd been stolen from the Loreguard.

Actually, it was even simpler. The fox wanted him to show wisdom, and wisdom was not flying off the handle. Yes, plan for eventualities, but the wise man would investigate the ship first, then decide how to go about getting on it.

So, planning for eventualities, Kyven left the inn and investigated the city. He found that there were indeed Loreguard stationed in the city, and after blindfolding himself, he investigated the building using spirit sight. He saw quite a few crystals inside, including a large concentration of them in a room in the cellar. He saw about twenty men and women inside, some laying down, some sitting down, some on the move, but he only saw six standing in what looked like guard positions. That may change at night, when there was a greater threat of robbery… if they believed anyone was crazy enough to steal from the Loreguard.

That was exactly why it was such an inviting target. People were either too afraid or too respectful of the Loreguard to try it.

Kyven leaned against the wall of the warehouse facing the Loreguard building and concentrated. He could see the people, but he needed to be able to see the layout. He focused on the faint borders and patterns, and then, to his surprise, a ghostly kind of layout began to emerge to his eyes, which then almost immediately seemed to dim. That surprised him, so he shook his head and tried again, tried to focus on the non-living, trying to see what the wolf said he could see. Again, he started just making out hazy, shadowy textures, and then everything seemed to darken, blank out.

The blindfold! Of course! If he was trying to see the non-living, then the blindfold would interfere with it since it was a non-living thing covering his eyes!

That put a damper on the idea of seeing the non-living, at least for now. So instead, he focused completely on the ghostly borders that were the microscopic living thing that lived on the walls, and thereby betrayed the layout of the building. By carefully peering at sections of the building, he was able to get an idea of the layout of the place. He could see that the guards were positioned in strategic intersections that made it impossible to get between major sections of the building without having to go past them. And to get to that concentration of crystals in the basement, he'd have to get past all three stations of guards.

Very well done, he had to admit. Maximum use of minimal resources.

By the time he was done casing the Loreguard barracks and went down to the harbor, he saw the ship. It was already docked, but it was definitely the ship, he recognized its dark paint and the flag of Flaur that he'd seen on the mast.

A Flauren clipper, and to his shock, when he reached the quay, he saw what it was carrying.

Arcans.

It was an Arcan trader. A long line of naked Arcans of multiple breeds, all chained together by the ankle, was being marched off the gangplank under the watchful eyes of several sailors who were holding alchemical devices he'd never seen before, long, red, cane-like devices that had a thick handle. The Arcans didn't resist, however. They marched along at a slow, despondent pace up the quay, and then they stopped when commanded and were traded off to a group of men who threw a rope coil over the head of the lead Arcan and dragged him along as they went into the city.

The procession went right by Kyven. The Arcans didn't look anywhere, just kept their heads down with numb, resigned expressions on their faces. No doubt they'd all done this before.

Such was the lot of a slave.

Kyven watched as three more chained groups of Arcans were brought out of the ship, and then were marched into the hands of the men at the docks and then marched away. Two men from the ship talked with one of the men from the group that took the Arcans, a few papers were signed, and then a heavily guarded wagon came up to the ship on the dock and transferred a chest up onto the ship.

The payment.

From his vantage point near a hawker's platform, Kyven observed the ship and its crew. It had thirty-six men crewing the ship, twenty-nine sailors and seven officers. Kyven memorized the faces of every single sailor and officer as they did tasks aboard the ship for nearly three hours after arriving. As the sun began to set, the sailors scattered into the city to begin their shore leave, and Kyven took off his blindfold and went off after them.

He had to learn what was going on and how to go about this, but talking directly to the officers may not be the best way. If he asked for passage and was denied, then he'd have to figure out how to explain how he ended up on the ship when it left port. No, it was best to learn from the sailors, and sailors, like all men, were very talkative when they were drunk.

It was time for guile and deceit.

Kyven tracked down men from the ship in the nearer taverns, then began. He put on a friendly face and struck up conversations with them, got them chatty, and bought them round after round of drinks. His purse emptied out quickly over the night as he plied four men from the ship with drink, and got them nice and talkative.

"I've always thought about trying out sailing," Kyven said with feigned disjunction, acting much drunker than he was, since he'd only had one tankard of ale. "What's it like on your ship?"

"Easy, easy!" one of them, Karl, laughed. "We're an Arcan runner, my friend, we ship Arcans where they're needed. We just brought up miners and farmers for the Free Territories, and we're taking back breeders for the Arcan breedpens in Alamar."

"Strange lot, those breeders," the smallest of them laughed. "Why do they breed what you can catch in the wild with enough patience?"

"Cause bred Arcans are smarter than wild ones," the third sailor snorted. "Remember when we ran that pack of wild Arcans to Cheston? Shee-boy, what a mess! Blood everywhere. It took us a week to clean out the pens!"

"Wha-what happened?" Kyven asked.

"Why, wild Arcans'll fight each other, friend," the fourth man said urbanely. "Makes for a bit of sport, usually, but it's not quite so much fun when you have to clean up after them."

"What would they want wild Arcans for in Cheston?" Kyven asked.

"The Pens, boy, the Pens," Karl grinned. "Cheston's where the Pens are!"

"What is that?"

"An Arcan fighting arena," the urbane one answered. "They find big, wild Arcans and have them fight each other for the audience."

"That doesn't sound like anything I'd ever watch," Kyven said honestly. "Then again, I don't much see the sport in dogfighting or cockfighting either."

"You're just a softie, friend," the tall one grinned at him.

"So, anyway, I want to learn sailing, and you guys are–are my friends," he hiccupped, "mebbe you can put a word in for me on a ship somewhere!"

"Too bad you can't crew with us, mate," the urbane one sighed. "But we're overmanned as it is. Usually Demond isn't too picky about his crew. After all, look at these three," he snorted, motioning at the other three, which made them laugh.

"Maybe–Maybe I could buy passage on your ship and just watch you guys and learn, then try to get hired on with another ship–ship–ship when we get there."

"Demond won't take boarders because of the Arcans," the urbane one told him. "He used to, but his passenger wandered down into the hold and got himself killed by the Arcans. Gods, Demond had a fit. Killed the whole cage of 'em and we all lost money cause we didn't deliver the quota," he growled.

"Bad luck, friend," Kyven slurred.

As the four men, Kyven dropped his head on the table and feigned being passed out, but he actually was thinking furiously. Alright, so, he couldn't buy passage, and the ship was overmanned. That meant that he wouldn't be able to get hired on as a deckhand.

How was he to get on the ship, if the captain wouldn't take passengers, and the ship already had a full crew?

Simple. Remove the competition. The captain would hire new deckhands if he didn't have enough men to crew his ship when it came time to sail.

And that was the test, he saw. The fox was teaching him about the cruelties of the world. Well, in this case, he wouldn't be learning about the cruelty, he would be dishing it out. There were too many men in his way for him to get on that ship, so the only choice he had was to get rid of the men standing in his path to his objective.

By any means necessary.

He understood her lesson. Sometimes, ruthlessness was required to accomplish a goal, and now he had to prove that he could be ruthless. He had to either kill or incapacitate enough men to force the captain to hire new hands.

Did he feel remorseful about it? Actually, not particularly. Months of killing for his food, and the lessons he'd already learned, taught him that death was sometimes the result of conflict, be it the conflict of hunter and hunted or the conflict of evil and innocence. These men were basically slavers, and showed little remorse or pity for the Arcans they transported. He found he would have little trouble giving to them what they gave to others.

He could kill them.

And he would have to start with the four men at his table. They'd talked to him, and if they remembered that he said he wanted to crew their ship, they might point fingers at him when their crewmates started to die.

And so, for the second time in his life, he sat there and plotted out premeditated murder. It wasn't the angry reaction to the brutality of the woman Bella, it was a cold, calculated plan to eliminate enough men to allow him to accomplish the task which his totem had given him.

That was the lesson. To be able to act in an evil manner if it was necessary, but not lose sight of the goal, and not lose his humanity. The fox said that life was cruel, and that sometimes, there was no correct answer that made everything have a happy ending. Well, this was one of those times. In order for him to accomplish his objective, he had to kill.

So be it.


Kyven was an intelligent man. He understood his objective, and hoped that he did the fox proud in his approach to the problem.

The problem was that there were too many man manning the ship he needed to board, and he could board it no way other than to serve as a crewman. The solution was to eliminate them so the captain had to hire more men to crew his ship, and wouldn't necessarily be picky.

The objective was simple enough, but the execution of that plan was what was both simple yet cunning. Kyven would have to compete with men who had experience when the captain went looking for new crewmen to man the ship, but he knew that sailors were superstitious men, so he engaged in a war on terror. The deaths of the men themselves would be easy enough to do, but he knew that he had to kill as many as he could on the first night, for they'd be too afraid to leave the ship once they realized how many of them had died. The simple yet cunning part of his plan was to draw the fleur-de-lis in blood on the body of each victim. The fleur-de-lis was the symbol of Nurys, the city at the mouth of the Great River far soutwest of where they were, which was an old, bitter rival of Flaur. By making the attacks look like some old bitter feud between Flaur and Nurys, it would frighten men from wanting to hire on to the ship–or any Flauren ship in port, for that matter–fearing that they'd be next. By scaring the sailors away from Flauren ships, Kyven greatly increased his chances of getting on board that clipper.

It was simple. It was devious.

It was effective.

That night, under cover of darkness and using spirit sight to stalk the men, Kyven killed twelve of the ship's crew, starting with the four men he'd used to get information. He simply ambushed them after they left the tavern and entered a stretch of street where he knew there was nobody near or looking–easy to see since he could see through walls–and killed them, one by one, with his throwing daggers. They didn't even notice when the tallest one dropped dead to the cobblestones. The other two did notice when the short one toppled over, but they joked that he was too much of a lightweight to hold his grog. When the third one went down with a dagger through his eye, the last one gasped and staggered off in a drunken version of a run, but he barely got ten paces before a dagger in the back of his neck dropped him like a poleaxed cow.

And now Kyven was a mass murderer. But it had to be done.

He moved quickly, collecting his daggers, then cutting their throats and drawing the fleur-de-lis in blood on the chests of all four men, then he slinked back into the night. He tracked down eight more members of their crew over the night, since he knew all their faces, and executed them in a similar manner. He ambushed them in desolate stretches of street, when nobody was nearby, killing them with his daggers with expert throws that made death virtually instantaneous and silenced any potential screams. Two of them he caught along, but the other eight had been in groups of two or three, moving about for mutual self defense out of habit, but not knowing that they'd been singled out for execution.

Kyven returned to his room in the morning, tired, emotionally drained, but resolute. He had killed twelve men, men he did not know, but men who stood between him and his goal. He felt… evil in a way, but he also had been hardened and prepared for this by the fox, who had shown him that sometimes, brutality was necessary to accomplish an important task, and that sometimes there was no happy ending for the innocent. He felt a little empty inside, feeling that he had done something beyond redemption, but that ended the instant the fox visited him. She walked in through the wall and sat down by the bed as he undressed to get some sleep, and simply nodded to him gravely. She then rose up and put her paws on his bare legs, and taught him a new spell… and that proved to him that she felt he had gained wisdom from his actions.

It was a healing spell! She taught him a spell that instantly eradicated diseases in the person he touched, and it could even cure the Touch! And he could use it on himself!

What a useful spell!

It was itself a lesson, he realized. She had told him to kill, now she was teaching him spells to cure. She was showing him the light at the end of the tunnel, and that all of her lessons wouldn't be about death.

The effect was immediate and dramatic. News of the murders spread through the entire city by sunrise, and it had the effect that Kyven intended. The Flauren ship's crew was terrified to come off the ship, as was the crews of every other Flauren vessel, and word in the taverns near the docks was that people were afraid to be next. When the ship's captain came off the ship and got up on the hawker's platform and shouted that he had four openings on his crew, there was nothing but dark muttering and whispering.

Kyven was ready, though. He was standing on the quay leading to his ship, and stopped the man, a tall man with graying blond hair and dark, weathered skin. He had brown eyes, large and clear, and a missing front tooth. "If you're willing to take on someone who's never sailed before, I'm interested."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because I can work every man you have to death if they try to keep up with me," he replied simply. "I'm not afraid of heights, I have fast hands, I learn quickly, and I absolutely guarantee you I'm in better shape than any man in your crew."

"Be that as it may, I'm not taking on someone I have to train," he said bluntly, then filed past towards his ship.

Oh yes you will, Kyven thought simply. When nobody will hire on with you.

That didn't require any additional murders, thankfully, but it did take some work. That next night, since the place was in an uproar and watchmen and Loreguard were everywhere, Kyven opted to simply stir the pot. A little of his own blood formed fleur-de-lis painted on doors and walls around the docks kept them all in a tizzy.

By noon the second day, nobody would even set foot on the same dock as the Flauren ship. Nobody but Kyven, anyway. He again tried to talk a position out of the captain, and was again rebuffed in favor of experienced sailors.

Another night of pot stirring basically sealed the deal. The entire city was in an uproar by morning, as fleur-de-lis were found painted in blood all over the city.

It would have killed Kyven to put that much of his own blood up, but a bucket of cow's blood worked just as well.

Kyven placed himself in one of the taverns that morning, and when the captain again tried to recruit sailors, pleading with them that the ship was leaving that day and they'd be safe, nobody took him up on it. Kyven said nothing, just looked at him as he went out, and then Kyven finished his ale, paid his last chits for it, picked up his pack, and then headed out of the inn. He didn't follow the captain, he instead went out to the dock, leaned against a post, and waited.

She was there. He looked down the dock, and she was sitting there, not five rods from him, tail wrapped sedately around her legs. She gave him a single nod, a knowing look, and then the shadows seemed to rise up from the quay and melt her into nothingness.

Clearly, she approved.

The captain returned about two hours later, storming back to the ship with only his own officer with him. He stalked past Kyven, then slowed to a stop, sighed, and turned around. "You receive no pay," he said. "We will feed you and teach you to sail, but you receive no pay."

"Done," he said simply as he picked up his pack and approached the captain, then went past him. "You won't be disappointed. I don't scare easily."

The captain gave him a strange look, but said nothing.


The name of the ship was Veyonne, which meant lovely in Flauren. It now had only seventeen men manning it, six officers, the captain, and Kyven himself.

It was a slaver. It smelled of Arcans, the smell had permeated the ship, and the ship was specifically designed for it. The deck of the clipper was perforated with multiple holes, and under it were lines of large cages on two sides of an aisle, where the Arcans were kept. The only cargo the ship could hold was food, but not much. The Arcans they'd carry would basically be starved during the trip, relying on the Arcan endurance to hold them over until they reached land. It freed up even more cargo space to carry more Arcans, and the lack of food made the Arcans much less likely to rebel, revolt or otherwise cause trouble. They would barely have more than a mouthful a day until they reached their destination… unless an Arcan died during the trip. Then they would skin and butcher the dead, keep the pelt, and feed the meat to the other Arcans.

Much of the food for Arcans almost anywhere was the Arcans themselves. Tame Arcans had eaten the flesh of their own many times in their lives, for that was what they did with the meat of the dead. It was cheap, most humans wouldn't touch it, and it was used either as food for other Arcans and pets like dogs and cats, or as fertilizer.

It was a delicate balancing act for an Arcan slaver, Kyven had been told. They had to keep them hungry, starving, to keep them weak, but not starve them so much that they'd kill and eat each other. When the Arcans were packed into the ship, they'd be carefully sorted by size, to keep large Arcans out of the same cages as small Arcans to prevent them killing each other and costing the ship money.

Kyven was given a hammock below decks, in the small hold off the Arcan pens and introduced to the crew and the officers. That introduction was quick and to the point. "This is the only man brave enough to sign on," the captain announced on deck. "He has no experience sailing. He boasts he can work any man on this ship to death," the captain said with a snort. "Be sure to show him how wrong he is."

Clearly, the captain was annoyed enough to put Kyven on a bad foot forward with the rest of the crew.

The second officer was a tall, swarthy Flauren with a very bad temper, and took to ordering Kyven around and being generally as obnoxious as possible from the onset. He was put to work sweeping out the pens to prepare them for the next load of Arcans, which Kyven performed quickly and efficiently. The second mate stormed down and gave the place a thorough inspection, and could find nothing to scream about, so he ordered Kyven up to the deck to perform any number of simple menial tasks, from coiling rope to moving water barrels. The other sailors were doing no work, lounging on the deck and basically chattering at each other in Flauren, which Kyven couldn't speak.

He ignored them. He was where the fox wanted him to be, on the ship, no doubt so he could move on to his next lesson.

Then the Arcans arrived.

There were a lot of them. All of them were female, of every breed Kyven had ever seen before except for skunks, brought in on long chained lines. They were like the ones Kyven had seen taken off the ship, defeated and numb, with hopeless expressions of ones who saw no other possibilities in life. They offered no resistance to the humans carrying those strange red rods, which, after Kyven dared a second of spirit sight, saw were definitely alchemical. The crystals that powered them were embedded in the bases. Chained group after group were brought in, and Kyven was tasked to help one of the sailors take one of the groups down into the hold. He followed the other sailor as the first mate had them unchained, then separated them by size and had them push them into cages, about fifteen per cage. Kyven was careful not to show any emotion or favoritism, handling them with indifference, which the first mate seemed to notice and approve of with a single nod.

He was tasked to escort another group down, then another, and then the last group, and while he was stowing the chain that had kept them all bound, he glanced their tally sheet. He couldn't read Flauren, but Flaurens used the same number symbols as they did, so he saw that they had nearly three hundred Arcans stuffed into those cages.

"You," the captain said. "Are the lowest man on the ship, so these animals are your duty," he said. "In addition to your normal duties, you will clean their cages and water them twice a day. You said you could work my men to death, so let's see how much you enjoy that boast," he said with a cold smile.

"As you command, captain," he answered calmly. "I don't boast or brag, sir. I told you what I'm capable of doing, and I'll back up my words. I'll take any man you put up against me, and I'll run him into the ground. If he dies, that's your fault."

"I'm almost willing to take you up on that bet, Freelander," the first mate laughed.

"I'll keep this hold as clean as it is right now, sir," Kyven told them simply. "Because that's what you hired me to do."

The captain gave him a look, then spoke to his first mate and left.

"The cleaning supplies are hanging on the far wall," the first mate told him. "How you handle them when you clean the cages is your affair, but you must clean the cages at least once a day. They get watered twice a day, at sunrise and at sunset. The water for them is in the hold at the far end of the cages. That water has to last them until we reach Chedon to resupply, which is six days. Stretch it however you see fit."

Kyven nodded, and the man headed for the stairs. "Oh, and one more thing. Usually the man in charge of the Arcans is docked for every Arcan that dies on the trip. But, since you're not being paid, I'm sure the captain will probably give you one lash for every one that dies."

"If you want them alive, they'll stay alive," he said simply.

"Take a few minutes to take stock of them. Show them who's boss," the first mate chuckled. "Then come up on deck."

"Aye, sir," Kyven answered. The first mate went up, and Kyven immediately wrapped his eyes so the Arcans couldn't see him use spirit sight. He knew they were listening, he knew they were probably watching from the open deck above, so he knew he had to be careful here. "My name is Kyven," he called loudly across the hold, which made more that a few of the Arcans look at him. "I will be responsible for you during this journey." He began to walk down the center of the aisle, and more than a few of them–as well as a few sailors above–realized that he was blind with the leather covering his eyes. "I'm sure you're wondering what I'm doing, walking down here with my eyes covered," he said, his eyes darting back and forth to watch them, to see which ones were truly cowed and which ones thought to take a swipe at him. "It's to prove a point. I'm not afraid of you," he told them bluntly. "When I bring you water and clean your cages, I will come into your cages with you. I will not chain you up or beat you, because I believe in a simple rule. I will treat you fairly, and you will treat me fairly." He reached the end of the cages, then turned around and walked back up the other way. One large wolf Arcan reached her arm out through the cages as he approached, then reached for one of his daggers on his belt. The wolf cried out in pain and recoiled, blood spattering the floor as she fell back, and Kyven calmly shook the blood off his dagger and resheathed it.

"Now then. You will receive water twice a day, at sunrise and sunset," he said calmly. "I will clean your cages twice a day, as I can when not performing my other duties. If you feel sick, let me know. If you get hurt, let me know. I will–"

He stopped. A very young cat in the cage facing him, she looked much different than the other Arcans to his spirit sight. She was… brighter. Much more distinct, much sharper.

He understood, everything. This Arcan was a Shaman. The fox had put him here because she was a Shaman, and now he understood his task.

That Shaman could not reach her destination. He had to save her. He had to get her to the other Shaman.

That was his task.

He closed his eyes to the spirits and removed the blindfold, then moved on. "I will treat you as you treat me," he told them, going to the cleaning supplies and finding an old rag. He tore off a piece of it, picked up the keys, and went back down the line. He came to the cage holding larger Arcans, including the wolf that tried to steal his dagger, and he unlocked the door. They all cowered from him in the back of the cage when he opened it and came in, including the wolf. He went right up to her and grabbed her by the scruff of her neck, then dragged her into the middle of the cage. She whimpered and began to pant in fear when he grabbed her wrist and yanked her arm out roughly, but then she gave him a surprised look when he knelt down beside her and began to wrap the rag around the gash he put in her arm.

"You may not like me, but I'm not here by choice any more than you are," he told her calmly. "Be fair to me, and I'll be fair to you. When you leave this ship, you may be hungry, but you will be alive and well, so long as you behave. Do you understand?"

She hesitated, looking at him with fearful amber eyes, then nodded.

"Good. Now rest, all of you," he called to them as he went back out and locked the door.


Kyven's little speech and stunt had had its intended effect on both sides of the ship.

The Arcans were afraid of him, and a little awed by him. He heard them whispering when they thought he was out of earshot, how he'd known the wolf was reaching for him even with the blindfold, and that he was no one that they'd better upset. His absolute fearlessness around them just reinforced that, for he was true to his word. The first time he came to clean their cages, just before sunset, he opened the cage, went in and left the door open, and then proceeded to sweep and mop the grilled floor of what didn't fall through into the bilge below. They all stayed against the walls, away from him, moving as he cleaned from the back to the front, but not one of them dared to go out that door, not even without them wearing collars. They were afraid of his retaliation should they disobey him. He cleaned each cage, leaving each door open almost as a taunt, then allowed them to leave their cages for a little exercise as he stood by the stairs leading to the deck, watching them, cage by cage. After exercise, he went to the water barrels and took stock, then saw that each Arcan would get little more than a single cup if he wanted to stretch it out for six days. He determined the best way to ration it, then brought the Arcans out one cage at a time and had them line up by the water barrel, then gave them their cup of water and sent them back to the cage. Once they were all watered, he went up on deck and exercised.

And that was the other half of it. The sailors were very nervous around him. They must have thought he was an easy mark, someone to harass and aggravate during the trip, but his walk down the aisle with the blindfold and his fast reaction with his dagger made them take note that though he was young and was not a sailor, he had fast reflexes and he was very alert, and he couldn't be snuck up upon. He was not a man to try to blindside. And then, as the men reclined on sailcloth and rope bundles on the deck drinking rum and playing dice, they watched him exercise and saw that he had not been joking.

Kyven's exercises demonstrated to the men that Kyven was every bit as tough and strong as he hinted. He carried very heavy weights around the deck. He used the rigging to do chin-ups. He ran in circles around the deck well into the night, running at a very fast sprint so it would tire him out, but doing it for a period of time that astounded the sailors.

It was a message to them. That, combined with what they'd seen him do in the hold, told them do not mess with me.

Once he had everyone firmly in hand, he considered the problem the fox gave him. Kyven had another Shaman on board, one that didn't know she was a Shaman, because she was barely more than an adolescent. He had to save her. But, the question was, how to go about that. He saw several options. One, he could pretend an interest in her and buy her, but he had no money, which would require him to steal it from the other sailors. He could kill off the rest of the crew and ground the ship and free all the Arcans, which was an option. He certainly had no love for any of them. He could smuggle her off the ship when they made port; that actually had the best chance of success. But the captain didn't trust him, often watched him like a hawk at all times, even when he was watering the Arcans and cleaning their cages. The only other option he could really see was going overboard with her when they reached the Cape of Hope, where the sailors all said they'd come relatively close to land. But that was iffy at best, because though he was sure he could swim it, he didn't know if she could. Kyven's exceptional conditioning would let him swim literally all day… and he had the feeling that the captain was aware of that fact.

But he certainly gave the captain no overt reason to hate or fear him. That first day, he did exactly what he was told quickly and efficiently. He only spoke when asked a question, and he was quick to offer assistance to any other sailor. There was a creepiness about him that unnerved the others because of his silence and his physical conditioning, but he did his job.

That basically all went out the window late that night. Kyven still had trouble sleeping at night, he wasn't entirely comfortable sleeping around strangers, and wasn't used to sleeping in a hammock, so he woke up often in the night. During one of those waking periods, he heard very faint, muffled cries, and immediately wrapped his blindfold and opened his eyes to the spirits. That allowed him to see everywhere on the ship. He looked and saw the few men working the dogwatch up on deck, the captain and officers asleep in the cabins, and a look out towards the hold showed him the masses of Arcans in their cages, though he couldn't see past the first cage. Then he saw two sailors come out into the central aisle, dragging one of the Arcans out by the hair.

Oh hell no.

He was up and darting down the companionway separating the small crew room from the main hold on bare feet, and the picture became more clear. The female Arcans watched on from the cages as the two sailor struck the Arcan they'd picked out, which caused her to stop struggling, and the other one grabbed her hands and pulled them up over her head. The other one climbed up on top of her.

Images of the girl killed by the Loreguard swirled in his mind, causing him to react with more force than was probably tactful. He charged into the hold on silent feet, unnoticed by the two men, but they sure as hell noticed him when the metal haft of his shockrod slammed into the temple of the man holding the Arcan by the hands, sending him crashing against the bars of the cage and dropping to the deck, screaming in pain and kicking his feet against the deck. The other one gasped and rolled off the Arcan and scrambled back, coming up with something in his hand that Kyven couldn't see because it was non-living. "Oi, what the fuck, man?" he demanded fearfully, then he took several steps back when Kyven leveled the shockrod's tip at him.

"These Arcans are my responsibility," Kyven said in a low, dangerous voice. "You will not beat them or abuse them unless I give you permission. That includes fucking them. If you want a piece, you talk to me, you don't come down here and drag them out of the cages and beat them into submission. Is that abundantly clear?"

"Listen, puppy, you ain't got the right to–"

The man jumped when a lance of lightning blasted across the hold and hit the wall behind him, going between his legs. The man swallowed when Kyven raised the shockrod just slightly, aiming it right at the man's genitals. "I said, is that clear?" he asked intensely.

The man's eyes widened. "I–It's clear," he said fearfully.

"Take that man to the doctor and get out of the pen," Kyven commanded. "And the next time I catch you in here when you have no reason to be, I'll feed you to them."

The man put whatever it was in his hand away, then circled wide of Kyven, collected up his companion, and helped him back down the companionway. Kyven holstered the rod and closed his eyes to the spirits, then reached up and untied his blindfold. He went over to the Arcan, a small mink Arcan, who was laying limply on the deck, her breathing fast and shallow. She hand her paws over her face fearfully, but she offered no resistance when Kyven pulled her arm away. Her cheek was already swelling up, and there was a little blood oozing out of her mouth. He urged her to open her mouth, and saw that she'd bitten her tongue enough to draw blood. "Looks like nothing that won't heal," he told her. "Alright?"

She nodded fearfully.

"Alright then, back in the cage with you," he ordered. He looked and saw that the key was still in the door. He'd think that one of them might try to take it, but then again, this was a ship at sea… where would they go? Trying to escape was basically impossible. These men had no care for their lives. They'd slaughter any of them that showed any resistance.

Kyven took the key, locked the cage, then went back to the sleeping quarters. He knew he'd poisoned any friendships with any of them by now, so it was time to make certain declarations. He picked up his pack, then moved into the pen. He spread his bedroll in the corner, sheltered from the open ceiling, and pocketed the key rather than hang it back up, to keep the men out of the pens as much to keep the Arcans in them.

As he expected, the captain came raging into the pen within minutes of the two sailors leaving. He had two of his officers with him, one of them carrying a pistol in his belt, and they took up a position at the only way out of the pens. "What in the bloody hell is going on?" the captain demanded.

"You told me to take care of the Arcans, sir. I'm just doing my job. Two men had dragged one out of the cage, and I was afraid they might kill it. I don't think getting them to Alamar dead is the plan, sir."

"I think you far overstep your authority, rookie," the captain said heatedly.

"Not at all, sir. The first mate told me that them reaching their destination alive and unharmed was my responsibility. I'm only doing what I was told to do. I had no problem with the other men enjoying themselves with the Arcan, until they started beating it. I was afraid they might kill it, so I had to intervene. I called out in warning but they didn't respond, so I had to resort to force. I was doing nothing more than protecting the ship's profit."

The captain turned to the first mate and chattered at him in Flauren, which made the man flush slightly and reply in a slightly embarrassed voice.

"I do not allow brawling aboard my ship," the captain told him. "Touch another man, and I'll have you flogged. Is that clear?"

"Abundantly clear, sir."

"Give me the shockrod and your daggers," he said, holding out his hand.

Without hesitation, Kyven pulled his fake shockrod and his five daggers and offered them to the captain. "You'll get these back when we reach Chedon," the captain told him. "Where you will be put off. You don't have the temperament to be a sailor on this ship."

"Understood, sir." He glanced up over them, where faint pink began staining the sky visible through the holes in the deck above. "It's sunrise, sir, I have to begin my duties."

"You do that," the captain said coolly, turning and walking out.

The Arcans didn't quite know what to make of him, other than he was not someone to upset. He had protected one of them from the sailors, but from what they heard, it was only because it was what he was told to do. And yet he treated them with, with respect, entering their cages without chaining them as he cleaned them, turning his back to them, even allowing them to move about in the hold freely after receiving their water ration. Yet he maintained steely control at all times, swiftly and forcefully breaking up a fight that erupted between a wolf and a red fox Arcan while they were allowed to exercise by hitting both combatants in the stomach, knocking the wind out of them. His booming voice ceased all commotion caused by the fight, and when he ordered them back into their cage, they complied. The sailors that watched overhead, including the captain, were a little startled that they'd obeyed him, sure that the fifteen females would attack the lone, unarmed human, but they did not. When all the Arcans were in their cage except for the two who had fought, Kyven came up to them. "Who started it?" he demanded.

They were both silent.

Kyven kicked the fox Arcan in the stomach, making her roll over on her back, then he put his boot on her neck threateningly. "I said who started it," he demanded. The fox gazed up at him fearfully and pointed to the wolf. The wolf pointed at the fox. "One of you is lying," he said dangerously. He looked to the pens, pointing at a large cougar Arcan. "Who started it?" he demanded.

"The–The wolf did," she blurted.

"In the cage," Kyven commanded the fox, who rolled over and literally crawled into her cage. The wolf slithered back on the floor, her eyes fearful, but she made no move to resist when Kyven grabbed her by the scruff of her neck, then literally dragged her down the aisle. He pushed her down to the deck on her hands and knees, pushing her face to the deck. "Don't move a muscle," he ordered as he let her go. She stayed right as she was, her butt sticking up in the air but her tail tucked against her legs as he locked the cage, then came back to her. She was panting, almost shivering, and she yelped when Kyven grabbed her tail and pulled it up. That yelp turned into a surprised howl when Kyven smacked her hard on her bottom. The howling continued as he literally spanked the Arcan, spanked her until she was crying, then he grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and dragged her back to her cage. He hauled her in and dropped her on the floor, and she quickly crawled to the other females and tried to huddle with them, but they didn't want any part of her. "That was the nice warning," he shouted in an unemotional tone. "The next time one of you disobeys me, I'll drag you to the deck and let the other men take turns with you. Now behave," he called, then he left the cage, locked it, and went up on deck.

He was a pariah on deck, but that's what he expected. Nobody wanted anything to do with him, and the man he'd laid out with the shockrod had a bandage around his temples, and wouldn't stop glaring at him. It suited him just fine. He didn't want to get to know any of these men. He still wasn't sure how he was going to free the Shaman, but it might require him to kill these men in order to free her. He took orders from one of the officers to do menial tasks, coiling rope, then swabbing the entire deck by himself, but he did all he was told to do without complaint and he did it quickly and efficiently, outworking the other sailors. He swabbed the deck from bow to stern faster than it would have taken four men, because he was focused completely on the task at hand and he didn't waste time.

Afternoon brought rain, a heavy rain that soaked the ship, but without thunder or high wind, merely rain. Kyven set the empty water barrel for the Arcans out when the rain began and let the rain refill it, and he saw the Arcans in the hold below drinking the rain that poured in through the grills of the deck above, soaking their fur but also slaking their building thirst. Kyven napped through the late afternoon, then bent to the much easier tasks of cleaning the cages and watering the Arcans, for the rain had done much of the work, and had also helped clear out the building smell of waste coming from the cesspool bilge below them. The rain flushed the waste out through sloughways on the sides of the ship, leaving the ship smelling better than normal.

Kyven was alert that night. He wasn't entirely sure that the man he attacked was going to let it go, and they were afraid to try anything when he was on deck and in sight of the officers. He wasn't liked, but the captain seemed to at least accept his reasoning for attacking another crewman, and he was still doing his job if only because the ship was undermanned. He tied his blindfold to hide his eyes, moved his bedroll and pack to the far side so anyone coming in would have to come down the aisle to get them, hung his pack high on the wall, tied a length of old sailcloth over the open area where the water barrels were kept to keep those above from being able to see, then sat down on the water barrels. That allowed him to see quite easily all the way across the pens, for the Arcans were all laying down, and also allowed him to keep track of every man on the ship without the Arcans interfering with his line of sight. The Arcans that were awake kept glancing at him in the darkness and whispering to each other. From what he could hear, they knew that Kyven was in trouble with the rest of the ship's crew, he was protecting himself from them, and they weren't quite sure what to do about it.

Hmm. Perhaps that was the answer.

He considered it the rest of the night, a night passed in quiet calmness. Perhaps killing the crew at sea was the best way to go about it. He had no idea how to sail, but there was one thing for sure; he'd not be wanting for help trying. He wasn't alone on this ship. He had nearly three hundred Arcans here with him, who would probably help him. Surely they could figure it out enough to turn the ship back towards land and run it aground, then swim to shore and make a run for it.

There were too many of them for him to try to kill by himself. If someone raised an alarm, they'd have a huge advantage. He could probably kill quite a few of the crew as they slept using magic, but picking off the men on dog watch and the officers wouldn't be quite as easy. He'd get one or two of them, but then they'd know what was going on, and he'd have to kill men who would fight back… and Kyven wasn't the only man that knew how to throw a knife. He'd have to deal with men who had muskets or alchemical weaponry.

Again, the answer stared him in the face. The Arcans could help him take the ship.

The captain was pacing up on deck. The captain didn't trust him, and Kyven was sure that even now, the man was pondering him, and might be worried that he seemed to have so much control over the Arcans. Maybe he was considering the same thing. They put him down here because it was the worst job on the ship, but he made the job much easier with his control over them. No doubt other men chained the Arcans or moved them from cell to cell when they cleaned, used a whip or rod when dealing with them, but Kyven did not. He controlled them completely just by giving them orders, and they were too afraid of him to even try anything. But then again, he saw them for what they were, defeated, spineless creatures who had been slaves for so long that they didn't know anything else, or were so afraid they wouldn't dare do anything. They would do what they were told because it was all they had ever known, and he knew it. By showing them no fear, he cowed them, made them afraid of him, and they were slaves to that fear just as much as they were slaves to the men who controlled them. There were three hundred of them and only one of him, and yet they were so broken, so afraid, that they didn't dare try to revolt. In their eyes, they saw no reason for it. All that would happen was that they would die, either killed by the crew or starving to death on a ship they didn't know how to work.

That was an important lesson in life, he realized. He could not be controlled by fear. Else he would become like them.

The next day, he took careful note of what was going on, without looking like it. As he swabbed the deck, he watched the sailors and saw how they brought the sails down, saw how they turned them to catch the wind. That was what he'd have to do. Drop the sails, then turn them to catch the wind so they'd go. He saw how the wheel worked when he swabbed the deck up there, how one had to turn it left to go right and right to go left. He did everything he was told, but he also got a basic idea of how the ship worked from it, enough to feel confident that he could move the ship if it was necessary. He saw how the men moved through the rigging, how they kept the ship going, he saw everything he needed to know in order to move the ship.

By sunset, he knew he had everything he needed, but he also knew that they were watching him like a hawk. Men had been keeping an eye on him all day, men armed with pistols, and there was a man on dogwatch sitting in the low rigging looking down into the hold, watching him as he cleaned the cages and then gave the Arcans their evening water. He treated them no differently than any other day, moving about with confident silence as he cleaned their cages, then brought them out for their water and gave them a few moments to move about outside the cramped confines of their cages. There were no fights this time, the females conducting themselves with quiet propriety as they stretched and enjoyed a few moments of extra space and the ability to move around without stepping on someone else's foot.

He then stripped nude, unlocked one of the cages, and grabbed a coyote Arcan from the cage, one that he knew could talk. He pulled her out, locked the cage behind her, and dragged her over to his bedroll. He threw her down on it, on her back, and climbed on top of her. She struggled only feebly, until he grabbed her hands and pinned them to the deck, pressing his weight down on her. She didn't excite him at all, so when he started thrusting his hips against her, there was nothing happening but a flaccid penis flopping against her crotch… but that couldn't be seen by the man watching from the deck above. To his eyes, their dangerous new crewman was availing himself of the available female Arcans.

He leaned down close to the coyote's head. "I'm from the Masked," he whispered to her as he continued to fake sex with her. "Tomorrow night, after I give you water, I will not lock any of your cages. But I need you to stay inside them. When I leave the hold in the night, wait for about five minutes, then I need some of you to make a commotion without leaving your cage that takes the attention of the men who watch us from the deck. I need a distraction."

"Wh–What are you going to do?" she asked in a whisper.

"Kill the crew and take over the ship," he answered. "If you can hold the attention of the men on the dogwatch, I can get most of them. Even if I fail, you'll be unlocked and there won't be enough of them to stop you from taking over the ship yourselves. Do you understand?"

"I understand. We stay in our cages, but a few minutes after you leave the pens, we make a lot of noise to keep the crew's attention on us."

"Right. When you see me on the deck overhead, then come out of your cages. That's when I may need you."

"Why are you freeing us?"

"I'm here for only one. Someone important to the Masked. But I'll free all of you, so you can do as you will. Try to run for freedom, let yourself get captured, whatever you want to do. I can't help all of you, but I will give you a choice to do what you will. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

"Good. Spread the word among the others when I put you back in the cage," he said, faking an orgasm, pressing his hips against her, and actually feeling an Arcan vagina pressing up against his penis… and it truly did feel like a human. But that still didn't really do anything for him, because he felt the fur on her legs and belly against his skin, and her tail kept swishing against his knees. He stayed on top of her for a moment, then climbed up onto his knees and grabbed her by the scruff of the neck. He climbed up and dragged her back to the cages, unlocked it, then pushed her in She fell in with the others, who had been watching the whole thing, and she immediately started whispering urgently with them as Kyven got dressed.

The plan was set. Now came the waiting.


Strangely enough, the word of Kyven's seeming abuse of the Arcans he protected seemed to change the crew's opinion of him. The first one to talk to him, while he was swabbing the deck, was a short, wizened sailor with his front teeth missing. "Figured you were one of them there Arcan lovers," the man snorted in laughter. "Guess you really are!"

"I do my job. No more, no less," Kyven replied simply, then deliberately turned his back on the sailor.

That was a repeat of many episodes through the day, as Kyven did the chores the officers set for him, including his first assigned trip into the rigging along with some of the other sailors. His demeanor didn't change among the men, for he was still silent and reserved, talked only when directly asked a question, but the men didn't glare at him quite so much. The only thing close to socializing he did was to get challenged to a game of posts, which he squelched almost immediately by telling them that it was time for him to care for the Arcans. "Come on, rookie, one set!" a sailor laughed.

Kyven took the three knives he was offered, weighed them with the briefest of holds, then sank all three into the north twelve ring.

"One set," he said simply, walking past them.

"Where did you learn that?" one man laughed.

"I was a crystalcutter's apprentice. If you can't do that, you won't make it as a cutter," he answered as he moved to the stairs leading to the hold.

There was tense quiet in the hold when Kyven appeared. He did not break his habit, getting the cleaning bucket and mop and broom, then coming down to the first cage and unlocking it. The females all looked at him speculatively as they stayed out of his way, and then they seemed to gasp and sigh when he locked the door when he was done.

Silly females, they didn't pay much attention.

After cleaning each cage, he then pulled out the water barrels and began giving them water. He started with the first cage, bringing them out, giving them water, and letting them walk around for a couple of moments, then he herded them back into their cage. They watched with fearful eyes as he took out his key, then locked the door, then fifteen sets of ears picked up when they heard the lock click again, which was clearly unlocking the door. He looked into the cage with steady eyes, nodded almost imperceptibly, then put his finger to his lips to remind them to be quiet surreptitiously before scratching his nose. He then turned around and opened the cage on the other side, and repeated the procedure.

Once everyone had water, it was very quiet and very tense in the pens. Their doors were all unlocked, and they knew it. They could, at that moment, boil out of their cages and overwhelm the small number of men on the ship, and some of them knew it, but their fear held them in check. They had been slaves all their lives, such thoughts literally beaten out of them, leaving behind obedient, compliant servants that did what they were told.

Or so he'd thought.

Looking at them as he walked down the aisle, he could see it in their faces, even the gray cat that was the Shaman. Some of them were excited. After spending their whole lives as slaves, they were seeing a realistic chance that they might be free, if only for a short time. Given that they were all uncollared and there was a hell of a lot of settled land between them and the wild forests of the foothills and mountains, the odds were all of them would be captured by someone and would again become slaves. But they'd have the chance.

Not all of them felt that way. Some of them were huddled in the backs of their cages, terrified of what they knew was coming. Those were the true slaves. Those were the ones that were so broken that all they knew and all they wanted was to serve, to be told what to do, to be slaves. He honestly pitied them. They would never make it on their own; odds were, when Kyven ran the ship aground, they'd all just sit on the beach and wait for humans to come collect them, at least until hunger drove them to finding something to eat.

He sat on the water barrel, and they all watched him. But he just gave them all a calm look, then he put his hands behind his head and leaned against the wall and simply waited.

He already had a plan for this. He could kill all the sleeping men using magic without any real trouble. Then the Arcans would create a diversion, and he would be able to kill several more on deck. By then, they'll realize what was happening and either try to kill him or barricade themselves… but either way worked for him. It was dark out, and after he got rid of the lamps up on deck, he'd have an advantage in the dark.

He tied on his blindfold over his eyes and laid down on his bedroll and took a short, light nap, then awoke couple of hours later, well into the night. He opened his eyes to the spirits as he stood up, then surveyed the ship.

The females were all watching him intently, but they were laying down and out of his line of sight. The daywatch men were in their bunks, either asleep or not moving around. They were all seated around something, probably a table. There were five men above on deck serving the dogwatch, four crewmen and an officer. One man was at the wheel, one man was watching him, sitting on something near the grill, one man was in the crow's nest looking for other ships, and one man was standing with the officer near the wheel on the wheeldeck. The other five officers were all in the captain's quarters in the back, playing cards or some game from the looks of it. Kyven took stock of every crystal he could see on the ship, marking each one as an alchemical device. There were a few in the crew quarters, but quite a few up in the officer's quarters, as well as the lamps up on deck and a large crystal in what he knew was a box up there over the grill, probably some kind of last-ditch control device in case the Arcans revolted.

That was priority.

They had one man watching him up there, but they always did. He couldn't help that, though. He got up and made a motion of pushing his blindfold up, but in actuality did not, then he walked down the center aisle and towards the crew quarters.

It was time to begin.

He figured he had three minutes before the man watching him realized he went to the crew quarters and reported that to the officer. They still didn't trust him, and they'd react. But, they all believed that he was unarmed, so that was a major advantage for him.

He stopped in the entryway of the crew quarters, where hammocks hung in columns against the bulkhead on one side and the wall on the other, split into three major sections. Men were sleeping in the hammocks, all of them still.

He did not hesitate.

He used the spell that the fox had taught him. He imagined the spell as the fox had instructed, a very wide cone of blasting, withering cold that erupt from his outstretched hand. He then raised his hand and pointed it at the largest group of men, and then reached into the spirit world and beseeched the shadow fox to grant him the power to cast the spell.

The effect was instantaneous, dramatic, and rather ghastly. A pale cone of shimmering light blasted forth from his hand, and everything that it hit frosted over almost instantly, though he couldn't see that. He felt a wave of bitter cold wash over his face and arms as the spell super-chilled the air around the area of effect, but what he felt was a pale shadow of what the men caught within the effect felt. They were rimed over in frost as half their bodies facing the effect of the cone was literally frozen solid. The light of their bodies flared, and then dimmed to nothing almost immediately after the spell was over.

And it had been utterly silent.

What he was not prepared for was the powerful effect the spell had on him. It was much more demanding than any other spell he'd cast so far, demanding much more power, and he saw a flaw in his plan. He had to cast it twice more, and when he did, it would leave him so tired that he'd barely be able to channel another spell.

Well, it was too late now. He was committed.

He sucked in his breath, then cast it again, repeating the process, and killed five more men with the second casting. He then quickly turned and channeled it one more time when the remaining six men began to stir from the sudden cold in the room. That casting put him out of breath, his breath misting in the sudden chilling cold in the room, and almost put him down on one knee as he struggled to recover. Move, he had to move. Activity would allow him to recover some of his strength. He waved his arms and walked in a brisk circle in the cold room, walked for a long moment until he felt warmth and vitality flow back through him, and then he quickly rifled through the frigid belongings of the dead crewmen for weapons. He dug up several knives, a cutlass, and a pistol, all of which he kept. He steeled himself and stalked up the narrow stairs carefully as he watched the man that had been watching him get up and run towards the steering deck. He got to the top of the stairs, hunkered down out of their sight but easily within his own, and then waited.

The females did not disappoint. While the sentry was talking to the officer, there was a sudden commotion down below. From the sound of it, two Arcans were fighting, and there were screams from other Arcans. That drew the sentry and the officer both down to the main deck quickly and to the grill, and they bent over to look.

Kyven reacted quickly. The main threat was the man in the crow's nest, who could see everything on deck. That man too was bending over to look, and that proved to be his fatal mistake. Kyven channeled lightning and sent it blasting up the mast, through the rigging, and slamming into the man's forehead, killing him instantly. The brilliant flash of light and thunderclap startled the four remaining men, and that thunder would alert the officers in the cabins to the stern, so Kyven went around the forecastle stairs and slinked into the shadows by a series of lashed barrels, taking a moment to try to recover. He was getting tired, but he was in no position to stop.

The captain's voice boomed in Flauren as he came racing out of the sterncastle, but then Kyven heard the shouting and the rattling of cage doors as the Arcans all boiled out of their cages and started up out of the hold. There was a great deal of chaos as the captain shouted orders, and a man ran for the stairs leading to the crew quarters. Kyven threw even as he ran, and the crewman only gave out a shuddering gasp as he collapsed to the deck with a dagger in his neck. Two officers, the last crewman, and the captain himself ran to that box, intending to unleash whatever it was in there that would stop the Arcans, and Kyven couldn't believe his luck. They were grouping up for him!

He was in range. He slid to a stop and channeled the spell one more time, just as the captain spotted him and barked in alarm, his hand going for his pistol. Kyven unleashed the blasting cone of deadly cold even as the captain leveled the pistol at him, freezing their flesh and freezing the breath in their lungs. The captain's hand cramped as it was frozen by the spell, which caused his pistol to fire. Kyven felt the air rush over his left side of his head as the shot whizzed by his ear, almost frighteningly close. But the light of their four bodies faded from his eyes, showing him that his attack had killed them all in one hit.

There was only four left, but Kyven was down on one knee, panting heavily. That spell was almost crushing in its demands on him, and he fought a moment of almost disorienting weariness, something he hadn't felt since he'd done his training… but he couldn't stay still. There was still four men left, the steersman and three officers, and those officers now were carrying crystal-powered devices, he could see. They were arming up and preparing to hold the sterncastle.

Then the Arcans started boiling out from the hold.

"The steering deck! Up there!" Kyven managed to shout as he stood and pointed. He forced himself to move, albeit shakily, as the most willing to fight charged up the stairs of the sterncastle. The steersman up there gave a startled call, and then it turned into an agonized shriek that was cut brutally short as the Arcans attacked him.

He forced himself to move. He could see the men where the Arcans couldn't, so he wanted to be in a position where he could try to kill them with a minimum of danger. If they charged the sterncastle cabins, quite a few of them would die trying to get at those men. The three of them were holed up in the captain's cabin. He could probably take them all using guile, but it wouldn't work if the Arcans charged in like rampaging beasts. He situated himself on the deck near the companionway leading to the captain's quarters, shivering from the effort but marshalling his strength for one more spell, one more very demanding spell.

He took a moment to take stock of the situation. He'd just unleashed three hundred Arcans on a ship with no supervision, for when he cast this last spell, it would wipe him out. If he didn't do something, there was no telling what chaos he'd find when he woke up, from the ship being on fire to them killing each other. He needed to make some quick decisions and just hope that things worked out for the best. He climbed up onto the sterncastle to the steering deck, and he shouted as loudly as he could to get their attention. "Listen! Listen to me!" he shouted at the females, who slowly stopped. "Everyone sit down right now!" he boomed.

They all sat in eerie unison.

"There's still three more of them left, but I'm going to take care of them," he called to them. "It may take a while, and I'll have to rest afterward. When I do, they'll be no one to give you orders, so listen. I want all of you to just stay calm," he said intensely. "No fighting among yourselves, do you understand? And I know you're all hungry, but there's not enough food for us all, so nobody eats. Not even me," he declared. "I won't make you go hungry without going hungry myself. We'll wait until we get back to shore before we figure out what to do about food. So, this is what we will do. All of you will stay calm, you will not fight, and you will not touch anything. If you break the boat, then we'll never get back to shore. So don't touch anything. Just stay up here on deck or down in the pens. No exploring, no climbing up the ropes, and no fighting. Is that understood?"

They all replied that they did.

"Good. I know you're hungry, and I know you're going to be hungry, and I'm sorry. We'll figure something out. There's water in those casks right there if anyone's thirsty," he called, pointing to the water barrels stashed by the port rail. "There's also the water in the barrels down in the pens if that runs out. But again, no fighting. If I wake up and find you've been fighting with each other, you'll regret it."

He felt ready enough. He took a few cleansing breaths, then climbed down and grabbed the two largest of the females by the arms and dragged them to the companionway. "You two," he told them, "will guard this passageway. Nobody except me goes past you. You two do have permission to fight if the others try to go down here, to make them stay out of the passageway. Do you understand?"

They nodded to him.

"And you don't leave this place, no matter what you hear. If it comes down to a fight with the other humans, let me deal with it. You won't interfere. Understand?"

They nodded again.

"Now, if I fail and the three humans come out into this passage, you may attack them only if they go past this line," he said, pointing at the threshold between the deck and the passageway. "You must make them come out on deck before you attack them. Understand?"

The both nodded.

"If I kill them, I'll try to let you know, but I'll have to sleep afterward. So, it may get very quiet in here for a while. If that happens, if you don't hear anything for a while, do nothing. Just wait. Understood?"

"Yes," one said as the other nodded.

"But, if you don't see me or hear from me by sunset tomorrow, then odds are the humans killed me. If that happens, it's up to you to try to get the ship to shore. If that happens, you two are in charge of the boat, and tell the other females what to do. Understand?"

"We will wait," the big bear Arcan told him simply.

"Just try to keep them all calm," he told the two. "If I come back out in the morning and find dead Arcans, I'm going to be very pissed. I didn't free you just so you could kill each other off."

"We'll try," the large wolf Arcan said with a nod.

Kyven nodded, then stalked into the passageway, but he heard the bear turn to the wolf and say "that must be why they call them the Masked," she noted.

The blindfold. Of course.

He tiptoed quietly down the passageway as he watched the three men. They were huddled in the captain's quarters, looking to be hunkered down behind something he couldn't see, maybe a table or piece of furniture. The way they held their hands told him that all of them were holding things, and one of them was holding to alchemical devices from the looks of the crystals under his hands. All three of them looked very nervous, almost desperate. They knew they were basically dead men. The Arcans now controlled the ship, and they were the last three, holed up in the captain's quarters. He came up to the door and literally laid down in front of it, not wanting to risk getting shot through the door when he called out. "I'm going to open the door slowly," he shouted through it. "I'll show you my hands so you'll know I'm unarmed."

"What the fucking difference does that make?" one of them shouted back angrily.

"I just want to talk," he said. "I have a ship full of Arcans but nobody who knows how to sail. We can come to an understanding that lets you walk off this ship alive."

"Then why did you take over the bloody ship, you fucking idiot?" another called tauntingly.

"Because it was necessary," he said simply. "I couldn't let you reach port. I had orders."

"Orders from who?"

"The Mistress," he answered, rather mysteriously. "Now, I'm going to open the door and step inside. You'll see that I'm unarmed."

"Yeah, you go right ahead!" one of them said challengingly.

"The other option is you either starve or drown," he replied. "I've already told the Arcans not to enter the sterncastle for any reason. So they won't come in after you. That means you either have one of those ridiculous glorious final charges out onto the deck to try to kill as many Arcans as you can before they rip you to pieces and eat you, or you break out the back windows and swim for it. But, since the Arcans can't make the ship move, well, I guess you're going to be in for a very long swim. So, those are your choices, men. You can die in a bloody spray of gore and then be eaten, you can stay barricaded in here and starve to death, or you can drown trying to swim for shore. Take your pick of those, or you let me come in and talk, and we make a deal. I'll show you that I'm unarmed, I just want to talk."

There was a long, quiet, heated conversation between the three of them in Flauren. Kyven waited patiently, for the time only benefited him by letting him rest and recover his strength. "Strip naked," one of them finally said in Noravi. "Then come in with both hands first. And you will not take one step past the door once you close it."

"Agreed," Kyven called back. He removed his clothes, then opened the door a crack from one side just in case one of them tried to unload a pistol on him, then he put both hands through the door. "See, I have no weapons," he said, then he slowly pushed the door open and showed that he had obeyed them. With his hands up, he turned a slow circle to show he had nothing tied to his back, then he stepped into the room and closed the door, then backed up against it with his hands still up.

"Remove the blindfold too," one of them called.

"I could," he answered. "But you won't like what you see."

"What does that mean?"

"I have no eyes," he answered simply. "What you saw are alchemical devices, not real eyes. I replaced them with different eyes that let me see what normal eyes can't, but they glow as a side effect. That's why I have the blindfold on, to hide the glow."

"Take it off."

"Alright, but I warned you," he said, slowly reaching down and untying the blindfold, then pulling it off his head and dropping it to the floor. Now that he could also see with normal sight, he saw that they were barricaded behind several pieces of furniture they'd literally ripped out of the floor, as it had been nailed down. They gawked at him, but they seemed to believe his lie… because they wanted to. The truth would have been completely unbelievable to them, so he told them simply what they would believe. "I did warn you," he said simply.

"That's how you could see!" one of them gasped.

"We're drifting here. Here's the deal, gentlemen. You command the Arcans to get the ship back to shore. When we ground the ship, the Arcans and I leave, and leave you behind along with everything on the ship. We take nothing. You keep your lives, as well as everything on the ship."

"How can we trust you?"

"You can't. But you can stand in the passageway and just shout out commands to tell the Arcans how to lower the sails and set them so we can get back to shore. You stay in the safety of the sterncastle the whole time."

They ducked back down behind the barricade and whispered among themselves for long moments. "You have a deal," one of them said, then all three of them stood up, exposing themselves for a critical yet fatal instant.

Kyven struck instantly. The point of his concentration was his upraised hand, and the cone was very wide and at a downward angle. The blast of intense, lethal cold washed over their heads and upper shoulders, freezing them almost instantly, causing them to slump to the deck. Just as quickly, their bodies shimmered and then vanished from his spirit sight.

"Like I would ever make a deal with you," Kyven said in a weary, drained voice, dropping to his hands and knees as he panted in exhaustion. His limbs trembled from the drain, but he managed to stagger back to his feet, turn and open the door. He staggered out, then fell to his knees in the passageway. "They're… dead," he managed to call before he collapsed to the deck. "You can come help me now," he called, but then he felt dizzy, and a rolling wave of blackness engulfed him and he was swept into unconsciousness.

Chapter 6