Chapter 10
It was amazing what one could accomplish with a compass, a little luck, and a lot of help.
Thank the Trinity for Aden. When Aden first started teaching Kyven about prospecting, his first lessons were actually about basic woodland survival, and it had been the grizzled mountain man that had taught Kyven how to read and use a compass. The compass kept Kyven on track as he went up and down ridges and hills and ran through virgin forest between settlements, keeping him moving in the direction he needed to go. That compass turned out to be essential to him, for it was very easy to get turned around in the night as one went up and down hills, changed directions to follow ridges or come down valleys. Kyven had his ability to keep his direction because of Aden, who reached out beyond the grave to help his eager student now, as he raced the hunters back to Atan.
The luck was just that, blind luck. More than once he stumbled into settled areas during the night, and once it was literally bounding out of the trees and almost into a farmer who was making his way towards the treeline and a stream Kyven had just jumped over. Only his shadowy cloak saved him from detection, as he literally had to ghost by the man so close that his fur brushed the man's hip and his tail tip lashed the man on the knee.
The help came from Arcans. When he came across settlements, he would seek out Arcans on farms, for they were almost never kept in the main house. They were always in barns or stables or little one-room hovels somewhere near the farmhouse. Where humans wouldn't help him, the Arcans were more than willing to give directions to an unseen voice, whose speech patterns were clearly Arcan; they could tell the speaker had a muzzle. The Arcans like these, working on a farm, they were almost always local. Arcans usually didn't go far from where they were born, staying in the same area for all their lives. It was only unusual Arcans that were moved distances, like Kyven himself, or specific needs in specific places. The slave ship Kyven had taken over was an example of slavers who filled that need. They moved groups of Arcans needed in other places, like moving females to breeding pens, or moving fighting Arcans, and so on and so on. But the average Arcan was bought and sold locally, and usually didn't go far from where he was born. These field Arcans may not know where the next country was, but they knew their area, and using what he could piece together from them, Kyven was able to keep track of where he was and knew which direction to go next. They were his map, and with his map and his compass, he was able to navigate.
He felt… bad about leaving the Arcans behind, but he'd learned his lessons well from the fox. There could be no happy endings for everyone. Right now, his primary goal was to save himself so that he might come back to save others, and he wouldn't manage that if he freed a mess of Arcans and ended up leading an Arcan slave army north. Besides, that would attract attention, and right now, he couldn't do that. The Arcans themselves didn't seem to be hateful of it, either. Kyven was free, and they were happy for him and happy to help him. They helped him to help a fellow Arcan, so someone might be free if not them.
He was their little victory.
He would honor them by staying free, and he certainly worked hard at it. For one, he was doing much better than a hundred minars a day. After three days, he found himself just north of a mining town called Mevaga, which was in northern Georvan, and realized he was running at least a hundred fifty minars a day. He was running all through the night, keeping a hard pace, using roads when he knew where he was going and knew where they went, which allowed him to go even faster. He had come up around the southern end of the Smoke Mountains and then turned north, skirting their eastern edge along the foothills, staying out from the flatter areas where there was heavy farming, staying to the areas where there was lighter farming and some prospecting and mining activity. At the rate he was going, he would be in Atan in four days, and that would beat everyone there. And if they sent word ahead, he'd get there so fast that nobody would expect him to be there, they'd still be looking further south.
It was going very well, at least in that regard. He'd run over three hundred minars before finally stopping, which was a staggering distance to traverse in just two days. Only something like an ultra-rare and highly expensive crystal-driven flying device could go so far, so fast. He'd slept through much of the day in an abandoned den, dark and shadowy and allowing him to remain invisible, then came out near sunset to hunt. He ran down a large deer and ate his fill, then packed up some of the meat and carried it with him so he wouldn't have to hunt when he finished running. He then cleared another hundred and fifty minars or so, running on roads when he could, running across country when the compass led him away from the road, and checking his position with the Arcans in the settled areas when he encountered them. He slept under a huge fallen tree, and repeated the cycle, running through the night once again, staying on roads when possible but going across country when necessary as he moved steadily north along the foothills of the mountains, passing small farmsteads and mining villages, and the further north he went, the more mining villages there were.
He didn't allow himself to fall into a false sense of security, though. He continued pushing hard, running as much as possible, even during the day when he was in a stretch of unsettled territory, keeping his every thought and action on moving forward, always moving forward.
His biggest run-in with danger had nothing to do with humans, it came from an Arcan, a wild Arcan. It was a large canine Arcan who had appeared when Kyven was eating a deer he killed, a female considerably larger than him. The commotion and the smell of blood had attracted her, and Kyven found himself being challenged by the large brown-furred canine over his kill.
Kyven considered the situation. The kill was his; he worked for it, he owned it. This large female sought to run him off, take his kill, and she was very, very aggressive. Kyven wasn't a fighter and he knew it, he had no idea how to fight and he lacked the innate, instinctual aggression and fighting instincts of the Arcans, so he knew if it came to a fight, he'd be beaten. But, he also didn't want to abandon his kill and waste valuable time hunting down another one. There was another option, he saw as she slowly stalked forward, fangs bared and growling threateningly, and that was sharing it. He was more than willing to give her half the kill, there was too much there for him to eat by himself. There was no need to fight over what would feed both of them. He advanced towards her with his belly low to the ground, a submissive posture, then raised his muzzle towards her as his tail swished back and forth. He had no idea what he was doing, but it seemed to calm the female, somehow. She stopped snarling at him, padded forward and boldly sniffed at his muzzle and head as he kept himself low to the ground, then she clamped her jaws on the back of his neck and tried to pull on him. He submitted to her as she dragged him sideways, then she rolled him over on his back and bit his neck firmly, but not painfully. He showed throat to her, submitting to her as she licked the blood off his chin and chops, then growled softly in her throat and pulled away, padding to his kill and tearing into it. He'd already eaten the liver and choice organs, but the heart, lungs, and kidneys were still there, and she went after them immediately. She growled at him as he came back to the deer, but she made no snaps at him as he sat down beside her and started chewing through the hide on one of the back legs to get at the meat beneath. He surrendered the remaining choice parts to her and ate the leaner meat.
Between the two of them, they denuded the carcass completely, leaving nothing but bloody tufts of fur and chewed bones. He moved to pad back to his pack, but the female grabbed him by the tail and pulled him back, rising up from where she'd been chewing on a thighbone, letting go of it and pulling his tail, then grabbing his waist, then pulling him back to her. She literally mounted him, which he thought was very strange behavior from a female, grabbing him by the back of the neck with her jaws as she pressed her hips against his rear end. She was giving soft growling sounds in her throat as she gripped him, then seemed to figure out that she wasn't accomplishing anything. She pulled him to the ground and rolled him over, then straddled him, clearly broadcasting her intent to mate.
He started this mess, he was stuck. He submitted to her, and if he didn't give her what she wanted, she might attack him. She was wild, but she was still an Arcan, with the Arcan need for touch and socializing, and since she was an adult, breeding was on her mind. It took some fast, rather dirty fantasies to get ready in a hurry, as she continuously tried to mount him, until he finally had enough of an erection to get the job done. She gripped his shoulders as she bounced on top of him, her eyes closed and her head held high, and he just laid there and let her do whatever she wanted, though he did steal some massaging feels of her small breasts, which she didn't seem to mind at all. He felt her achieve climax, which incited him into climax as well, gripping her waist as he rode the waves of pleasure.
But she was not happy. She looked down at him with narrow, dangerous eyes, and she bared her fangs and growled threateningly at him.
What? What did he do? He didn't do anything he hadn't done with other Arcans! Yet all of the sudden, she went from very amorous and affectionate to threatening, and with her on top of him, he was in a very, very vulnerable situation. She gave a threatening bark.
Was it because they weren't compatible breeds? Did she mate him expecting a joining, thinking he was a fellow canine? Why would she think that when she sniffed him, his scent was not a canine one. She had to know that they weren't compatible before mating him.
Possibly, but he was not in a position to argue about it. With him flat on his back, being bitten was his greatest danger. She could go straight for his exposed neck, unless he took immediate action. He did so, startling her when he kicked off the ground, rolling them over, then he pulled away from her when she let go of him in surprise. He scrambled backwards, staying on all fours, low to the ground and with his tail low. He slinked back as she growled threateningly, her hackles rising.
Clearly, the honeymoon was over.
When he backed away from her enough to turn and start hurrying away, going for his pack, she became more calm, and then he understood. It was the Arcan version of a one night stand. She just wanted his deer and a few minutes of pleasure, and now that she had what she wanted, she was evicting him from her territory. She satisfied her Arcan need for touch and companionship, and her wild impulses had taken over again.
He fled from her, breathing a sigh of relief. She could have easily attacked him without warning after the mating, and probably would have killed him. His lack of experience with Arcans almost got him killed, and he filed that little episode away in his mind for future reference, should he come across another wild female. Or male, for that matter, the morals of that experience were not to let his guard down around wild Arcans bigger than him. And to remember that he was not an Arcan, so he had much more he had to learn.
Outside of that one encounter, it was blessedly uneventful when he got back into the Free Territories after six days of hard, relentless running, far, far ahead of any hunters chasing him by land and a good two days ahead of any hunters heading to Atan by ship. After he set out and found some Arcans to tell him where he was, he realized he was one very hard run to Atan. He was just south of Riyan, though much further west, and the south end of the Blue Valley was just ahead of him.
As he navigated into the Blue Valley in the night, a cloudy night that threatened rain, the first rain since he fled Alamar, he considered things, for the first time since running. He'd be in Atan by morning, and when he got there, he'd need to make contact with Virren. Virren would know how to get in touch with the Masked, and then it would be a simple matter of waiting until they got there to take him to Haven, to get him out of the human lands and to safety, because he was just too unique. Too many people wanted his hide, literally, and his only chance was to get out of their reach. Virren could help him, the Masked could help him, and he would return to help the Masked after the heat cooled down, after he was better prepared to deal with the human world when he was an Arcan everyone wanted to possess.
It would be good to see Virren again, and get a message to Master Holm and Timble. No doubt they had no idea what was going on with him, and though he couldn't let them see him, he could get word to them that he was alright. The last message he sent was from Stinger Bay, through the guild, telling them he was going to try sailing. That should have bought him some time, and he could organize, something, he guessed. Give Timble his half of the shop or something, because he wasn't sure if he'd be able to fulfill his obligations to it. He'd like to keep his name on the shop, use it as a front, but that would be up to Holm and Timble. He could just give all the profits to them and keep his name on the roll as an owner, and use that official status as a cover when he moved around. He could let a human Masked use his name and pretend to be his Arcan as they moved around, for example.
Trinity, how was Virren going to react to this? Virren knew he was a Shaman, so at least that part wouldn't surprise him… but to leave a human and come back an Arcan, it was sure to blow Virren's mind. It would blow his if he was on the other side of it. Hell, it still made him feel a little creeped out, but that was more from how quickly and effortlessly he seemed to embrace Arcan life. He was, at that moment, running on all fours. He hunted like a wolf, ate his kills raw, seemed to understand Arcan instincts at a basic level that let him interact with wild ones, and had learned a little about smart Arcans, enough to at least not be shunned by them in groups. But he had much more he needed to learn, of that much he was sure. He'd only interacted with three groups of Arcans, the females on the ship, the Arcans in the kennel in Cheston, and Silver and the others in the blue ring. He knew that those three interactions in no way prepared him for dealing with Arcans in general; it only showed him how slave Arcans behaved. The only free Arcan he'd interacted with was the wolf, but the wolf's hatred of him made that a very tense relationship, and also didn't tell him very much.
Yes, he had much more to learn.
With the sliver of the waxing moon illuminating a band of land before him as he crested a ridge, peering through a small hole in the cloud cover above, Kyven found himself looking into what he knew was the Blue Valley. Atan was about a hundred and twenty minars to the north, on the other end of this very long geographical feature, but within the valley the going would be easier, with lower hills. But, the valley was also populated and its proximity to the uninhabited mountains meant there were more wild Arcans around, which would require him to be careful. The wild Arcans would fear humans, but Kyven's Arcan scent would not give him the same protection. They would either chase him out of their territory or investigate him. Either way, Kyven wasn't going to stop now for anything but water. He was hungry, and that hunger was triggering his fear of starving instilled into him by the Ledwell's cage, but he could wait until he got to Atan. Virren would feed him, feed him all he wanted.
The Ledwells. That bitch, he wondered if she knew by now that her investment had escaped from the blue ring, and was now free. He also wondered how far behind him Toby was, because he knew the man would come after him. He just had to keep his lead, and be far into the frontier by the time the man reached Atan, for that was one man that Kyven had the sense to fear.
The rain came, a steady, cool rain that soaked into his fur as he ran, but he ignored it, ignored everything but the objective. If he got to Atan by morning, he would have a full two days on his closest theoretical pursuers, barring someone warning ahead that he was coming. As long as nobody did that, he'd have more than enough time to contact Virren and get the ball rolling on that, then lurk near the village, using the many abandoned mines in the hills outside Atan and his shadowy cloak to evade all hunters. With so many places to hide, and being invisible to anyone who came looking, they'd never find him. He could easily evade all hunters until the Masked came for him, then took him to safety, because Atan was his home range. He knew the area, he knew where to go, where it was safe, where the people were, he could stay near the village and never be found with almost ridiculous ease. He would repay Virren and the Masked by becoming one of them, working to help the Arcans, because he had tasted the brutality of their lives on a level that had committed him to their cause. Even if he was returned to being human, he would continue fighting for his little victories.
Days of hard running had worn him down, but had also built him back up. He was able to run at high speed all through the night, faster than any horse, faster than anything but an Arcan, literally drinking the raindrops as he ran so he didn't have to stop to drink water. He ran on pads toughened by heavy activity, pads that could trample thorns without drawing blood, running through forest and across fields and past houses and down small lanes and roads tirelessly through the night, an invisible ghost unnoticed by all as he passed by them. He didn't have to use the compass or stop to find out where he was anymore, he knew that all he had to do was stay in the valley and keep running until he came across the Avannar Road, which would be sometime either just before or just after sunrise. He encountered no humans, no Arcans, nothing but the occasional nocturnal roamer as he ran, startling a few foxes, a handful of cats, and a couple dozen possums on his long run along the valley floor, staying near the west edge.
At almost exactly sunrise, he reached the Avannar Road. He had to turn around and come back after running across it, then padded in a circle as he recognized it for what it was, that it wasn't a country lane or road between settlements. It was still raining, making it muddy, but this was where he had to bow to Atan traditions. Arcans did not go about naked in Atan, and with sunrise coming, his shadow cloak wouldn't work anyway. This was the entire reason he brought clothes and carried the pack all this way. He moved off the road and dug the wet clothes out of the pack, which was itself soaked through after full night in the rain, making it rather heavy since the blanket inside was partially filled with water, making it damp and a bit squishy to the touch on the layers that had been on the top of the pack. He put on the pants and shirt, feeling quite musty with his wet fur underneath them, then shouldered the pack and bounded out onto the Avannar Road, running the final twenty minutes it would take to reach Atan.
He came up the ridge quickly, but when he got close, to where he could be seen from the road, he veered off and into the woods. The clothes would detract people until they saw he had no collar, then he'd be fighting his former village comrades as they tried to capture him. He circled Atan from the treeline, getting over to the south side so he had a very fast run in to the alley leading to Virren's shop's back door, but he saw something that worried him when he did so.
There was a detachment of Loreguard in Atan. They were already up and about, a group of five Loreguard out by the Crystal Chimes, moving from the inn and in the direction of the Loremaster's house and office on the other side of town, near the courthouse and watchhouse.
What was the Loreguard doing here? They didn't keep a detachment here, just a lone Loremaster. But they were indeed here, and that just made this a hell of a lot more dangerous. The Masked might not come if Loreguard were in the area.
Hell, no use speculating. He had to talk to Virren first, that was what was most important.
He waited until those Loreguard were well gone, and then made his move. With the rain, nobody would be looking too carefully at him if he passed anyone on the street, too busy trying to get out of the weather. He walked slowly and calmly out into the village, using the blanket both as a cloak against the rain and also to hide his neck and the fact that he had no collar, going up Gem Street. He found himself walking down familiar cobblestones that felt different under new feet, walking past the Crystal Chimes, past Master Torvik's cutting shop, past the Gravan alchemy shop, past the spinster sisters who did laundry for people for a living, past his own shop, past his former life. He slid on the wet cobblestones when he went past his own shop, feeling a strange pang when he looked at it, then turned up the narrow, dark alley that ran between his shop, the barrel maker's shop and the greengrocer's shop and the rope maker's shop, and with Virren's shop forming the dead end down at the far end. He slowed down and rose up onto his legs when he reached that door, and then knocked on it without hesitation. He knocked on it again when nobody answered it, constantly darting his eyes back down the alley to see if anyone saw him run in. He almost jumped when the door opened behind him, and he turned and saw himself looking at the intimidating face of Bragga, Virren's hired strongman and guard. "What ya want, Arcan? Who sent ya?" he asked.
"Brragga," Kyven said, looking up at the big man.
The man's small eyes widened in shock. "Kyven?" he gasped. "Is that you?"
"I need to see Virren," he said. "Is it safe hrere?"
Bragga poked his head out the door and looked down the alley, then grabbed his forearm and pulled him into the shop. "What the fucking bloody blue hell happened to you, Kyv?" he asked. "I almost shit my pants when I heard your voice coming out of an Arcan's mouth!"
"It's a verry lrong storry," he said, pulling the blanket up around him tighter, fearing that Virren's apprentices may see him. "Nreedress to say, it's not a verry good one."
"I imagine so! What happened? What could do this to you?"
"Lrike I said, it's a verry lrong storry," he said quietly.
"Kyven, I think you should know now. Holm died."
"Whrat?"
"He died, Kyv, about a week ago. He died in his sleep. The shop's kinda in limbo right now. Tim's been running it since Holm died, he left the shop to you and Tim. And with you not there, Tim's kinda holding the bag."
Kyven felt… he didn't know what to feel. Holm had been like a father to him. He'd been strict, but always fair, always encouraging, and had taught Kyven tricks he'd never taught another apprentice, not even Timble. Holm had been one of his best friends. And Kyven hadn't even been here with him at the end. He felt like he let Holm down, that Holm died not knowing how much Kyven had cared about him, how special he'd been in his life.
He pulled the blanket around him more as an apprentice came out of a room and into the hall. He felt… ashamed. He didn't know why. These were people who knew him, he guessed. They knew him when he was a human. How would they react to him now? How would Holm have reacted to find that his partner was now an Arcan? How would Timble react? For that matter, how would Virren react to the news? He'd been so focused on getting here, getting Virren's help. Now that he was here, he almost didn't want Virren to see him like this. But he had no choice. He needed help, he needed Virren. He couldn't find Haven alone, and he didn't want to just run the frontier alone. He wanted to help, he wanted to join the Masked.
Bragga led him into the foundry, where apprentices and Old Gray were preparing the forge for a day's work, as Virren supervised, showing some kind of plan or schematic to one of his senior apprentices. "Virren," Bragga called. "A messenger."
Virren came up to them. He was a burly man, with gray hair and had been just a touch shorter than him as a human, but was now a good three fingers shorter because of his changed legs. "Well? What message do you bring, Arcan?" he asked bluntly.
"You want to take this message in your office, Virren," Bragga told him steadily.
Kyven looked down at him with uncertain eyes, not wanting to meet his gaze, then he looked down meekly, the way an Arcan would act to a human. Virren gave him a steady look, then nodded and walked towards the door. Bragga and Kyven followed him, down a hallway and into Virren's office. It was a large place, with a desk and shelves on both sides, holding quite a few books that had to be Virren's personal alchemical manuals. "Alright, what's so important that it has to be here?" he asked, looking at Bragga rather than Kyven.
Bragga looked down at him. He sighed and dropped the blanket, his tail drooping. "Virren," he said.
Virren gasped so hard that Kyven thought he may have inhaled his own teeth. He staggered back, putting an arm up, his eyes boggling at him. "Kyven?" he asked. "Kyven, is that you?"
"Yres," he sighed, looking at the burly man. "It's mre, Virren."
Virren gaped at him, then rushed up and put his hands on Kyven's shoulders. "What the hell happened? What did this to you?" Kyven glanced at Bragga and shook his head, which made the alchemist pat him on the shoulder. "It's alright, Kyven. Bragga is a friend."
Kyven glanced at the big brute of a man, then nodded. "I was betrrayed," he said. "My totem did this to mre."
"He's a Shaman?" Bragga gasped.
"A human Shaman," Virren said. "Or he was," he noted. "What happened?"
"A lrong story. This is… punishment frrom mry totem," he said, motioning at himself. "Mry totem punished mre and betrrayed me. She strripped mre of mry powerrs. I'rm just an Arrcan now, and an Arrcan on the rrun. I need herlp, Virren. I escaped frrom the brue rring of Aramarr," he said. "I need to get out of hruman rrands. Can you carr–calrl the Masked to take mre somreprace safe?"
"The blue ring? You escaped from the blue ring without using magic? How?" Virren gasped.
"They think Arrcans arre stupid," he said simply. "Virren, I don't have mruch time. If I'm rright, the firrst hunterrs frrom the blue rring wirl be here by tomorrow night," he said. "I told the other Arrcans at the blue rring I was frrom Atan, and they wirl comre herre rooking forr me. I know they won't ret me go. I'm too valruabre. I had to rrun here from Aramarr almrost nonstop to beat them herre, the smarrt ones wirl come by ship."
"You outran ships from Alamar? Holy Trinity, Kyven!" Virren said in surprise.
"Rristen, I'm rrearly hungrry, Virren. Can you give mre some food?"
"Sure, sure! Bragga, could you bring something from the kitchen?"
"Lrots of it, Brragga," Kyven told him. "And it doesn't have to be cooked if it's mreat."
After the big man left, Kyven endured an awkward moment as Virren grabbed him under his muzzle and turned his head to and fro, peering at him. "Amazing. Just amazing! How did this happen, Kyv?"
"It's not a happy mremrorry, Virren," he said, pulling his muzzle away from the man's large, strong hand, then taking a step back. "I've had a verry harrd time of it since I reft here."
"I can imagine, if you ended up in the blue ring. When did this happen to you?"
"I don't know rrealry. Weeks, mraybe. Can yrou herlp mre, Virren?"
"I can, but not right now. I can't make contact until this afternoon or it'll draw attention, and we don't do that, sure as hell not with Loreguard in the village. They're going to complicate things."
"Whrat arre they doing herre?"
"Looking for you," he said simply.
"Huh? Mre? Why mre?"
"They're investigating some unique alchemical device they say you have. The human you," he said quickly. "The Loreguard doesn't like alchemical devices out there they don't know about, so they've been grilling the village alchemists. I already had my interview with them," he said with a shiver. "Nervous business. They never fail to give me the creeps."
"I can imragine."
"I have to ask, Kyv, I hope you understand. What are you? I've never seen that coloration before."
"A fox," he answered. "A shadow fox. Mry totem changed mre into herr own kind. It's been… usefulr, at lreast."
"Well, tell me what happened after you left," Virren said, going around his desk and sitting down. Kyven sat awkwardly in one of the chairs facing his desk, and complied.
He went over some of what happened, from his training with the wolf, then his runs through Avannar, Riyan, and Stinger Bay and his activities on the ship. Virren stopped him about there. "Well, we heard about that," he said. "Seems your Arcans were sunk, Kyv. A Stinger Bay battleship went out and sunk them. I'm sorry."
"Wrell, I figurred that wrould happen," he sighed. "But it wras theirr choice. They wrent down their own wray, and forr and Arrcan, that's not a bad thing."
He went on, telling him about delivering the cat Shaman, then being sent to Cheston. "That's whrere she attacked mre," he said. "Changed me into this, took away my powerrs. Whren I wroke up, I wras in a hunterr's cage. And things wrent from bad to worrse." He shuddered when he told Virren about the Ledwell plantation, where he was almost starved to death by the sadistic Arthur Ledwell, and then what happened afterwards. "I saved that bitch's rife, and she sells mre," he growled. Bragga returned with a large platter of food and set it on the desk, which Kyven attacked like a starving animal. It was laden with raw mutton chops, and he was not shy at all about eating it so fast he almost didn't taste it. "Afterr that," he said between bites, "I wras sent to the brue rring. I escaped two days afterr I got therre, seven days ago, and rran nonstop to get herre before the firrst hunterrs arrive."
"You ran to here from Alamar in seven days?" Virren gasped.
"I'm alrot tougher lrike this, Virren," Kyven said simply. "Besides, I had lrots of motivation to get herre firrst. I coulrd lay down rright herre on the floorr and slreep forr two days, but I beat them."
"So you did," Virren chuckled, then he sighed. "Kyv, I hate to be the bearer of even more bad tidings, but I'm afraid that Holm has passed on," he said.
"Brragga tolrd me," Kyven sighed. "I need to talk to Timbre–Timbrle–Tim, Virren, but he can't see mre like this."
"Actually, I think it would be best if he did," Virren said. "Timble's got some sympathies for Arcans, Kyv, I was actually considering approaching him about joining the Masked. I think he needs to see you. It will make him understand the situation completely, and you know he'd keep it to himself."
"I wron't mind seeing him," Kyven sighed. "But I think he'rr mrind seeing mre."
"I think you'll be surprised. Did anyone see you come into the village?"
"I don't think so," he answered. "I didn't pass anyone, because of the rrain."
"Good. If those hunters are coming after you, then you can't be seen, Kyven. The village can't know that you're here. I'm afraid you'll have to stay in the shop."
"I know," he nodded. "I wras going to hide out in the old abandoned mrines. I'd, uh, rratherr stay out therre, Virren. I don't lrike the idea of being trrapped in here."
"Well, I don't like the idea of that, but it's your choice," he said. "You can wait until after we see Timble then go out."
Kyven finished the meat on the table, then sighed and leaned back. "Thank you," he said sincerely. "I didn't hunt yesterrday to save timre getting herre."
There was a commotion out in the hall leading to Virren's office. The alchemist stood up, as did Kyven, as an apprentice seemed to be protesting loudly. Kyven backed up a step, away from the chair, then flinched when the door banged open loudly. Striding through the door was someone he knew! It was that Loreguard captain, the one that had interviewed him in Riyan! She was just as lovely as he remembered, sleek and shapely, long blond hair held back from her face by two tiny braids at her temples, wearing a chain hauberk under her Loreguard surcoat, with black leather trousers and black knee boots. Those mahogany-handled pistols were at her belt, as well as a holstered rod at each hip, a woman armed to the teeth. He gaped at her for a moment, amazed to see her, then he remembered just where he was, who she was, and what he was. He dropped to his haunches quickly and looked at the floor, presenting a meek and unassuming figure that hopefully would be beneath her notice.
Trinity, was she beautiful! He recalled that peek he took of her and was surprised to find that it still stirred him in ways no Arcan except Silver could.
"Well, it's about time I catch you at home, master Virren," the woman said. "I've only sent you three invitations to come talk to me."
"I've been a bit busy, Captain Pannen," he said simply. "But, you have me now, so what did you want?"
"A list of your alchemical books, journals, and periodicals," she said. "Oh, and a list of your successful research discoveries. I've been told you're quite the tinkerer, Master Bandar. The other alchemists say you do quite a bit of independent research. I'd like to see what you've come up with."
"Certainly, Captain. Would you mind receiving it this afternoon? That will take a while to compile."
"That's fine with me, Master Bandar," she said, glancing at Kyven. "My, what an unusual Arcan," she noted.
"One of mine," he said calmly. "I just got him yesterday evening."
"Even more unusual that he's wet. And he doesn't have a collar."
"I sent him out on an errand, Captain, and I have to put a new crystal in his collar, the old one was sitting on the shelf too long and my apprentice didn't notice it when he picked it out. That's why he's sitting in my office with my man watching him, while my apprentices take care of it."
"Indeed," she noted, turning towards him. "Stand up, Arcan," she commanded. He did so, rising up on his legs, his tail swishing behind him. He kept his head down and wouldn't look at her, keeping his eyes on her black boots, noticing that there were drops of water clinging to them. She walked around him, completely around him, then quite boldly grabbed the tail of his shirt and pulled it up to look at his belly. "Amazing coloration. I've never seen it before. He's a fox?"
"Yes, Captain, he is."
"A mutated gray, I'd wager," she noted, grabbing his hand and turning it palm up. "And quite soaked to the skin."
"Yes, well, he was outside for a long time."
"Long enough to need a pack," she noted, looking at the pack he'd set in the corner.
"His task was to retrieve it from the mining camp, and he had to get there before they left for the mines. I dare say they made him wait in the rain."
"Indeed," she murmured, putting her hands on his stomach and running her fingers through his wet fur. Trinity, her fingers were gentle! He had to keep his thoughts under control as she dug her fingers into the white fur on his belly. "His fur is like nothing I've ever felt," she noted. "It's incredibly soft."
"I can rent him out to you for you to play with, if you like, Captain," Virren said calmly, but there was a hidden little catch in his voice that spoke volumes of innuendo, no doubt intended to insult her.
She gave him a flash of irritation and let go of Kyven almost hastily, no doubt reading his subtle suggestion for what it was. "Does he have a name?"
Kyven gave Virren a wild, fearful look and shook his head while her back was turned to him, almost desperately warning him not to answer that question.
"I haven't given him one yet," he answered absently.
"Indeed," she noted absently. "I'd like that report by noon, Master Bandar," she told him, turning and giving Kyven a very penetrating look, catching him with his head up and staring him in the eyes. Her blue eyes narrowed slightly as she looked at him, then she swept from the room as quickly as she stormed in, not bothering to close the door behind her.
Virren moved calmly after the apprentice ushered the Loreguard officer out of sight down the hall. He pressed a button on a little wooden box on his desk. "Bring a collar to my office," he said into the box, then let go of it as Bragga closed the door. Trinity, but that was fast thinking and smooth talking! Virren was a champion liar! "I'm afraid you're stuck here now," he told Kyven quietly. "She's seen you, you have to maintain the illusion until you go, when you escape."
He grunted and nodded. Virren was right. The woman had taken notice of him, he couldn't just vanish from Virren's shop now.
He didn't like the way she looked at him. It was… strange. Searching. It was not the look a human would give to an Arcan. She didn't buy Virren's story, he realized. She didn't buy it, she thought he was something other than what Virren made of him. He was sure of it.
An apprentice scurried in carrying a simple gray collar, handed it to Virren, then left without looking at Kyven. Virren deftly pulled the crystal from it, then handed it to Kyven once the door was closed. "Just for the sake of appearances," he reminded him.
"I know, but I don't hrave to lrike it."
"Come on, let's get you someplace to get some sleep. We'll talk to Timble after you get some rest."
"Thanks."
Virren didn't have a spare room for him to stay in by himself, so offered him a pallet in the small storeroom. Old Gray and the brown canine brought it in for him, the old coyote carrying his end with one arm, the other in a cast and sling, and both of them gave him a curious look. He put his hand on Old Gray's shoulder and nodded calmly, then accepted a brief nuzzle from the bristly-furred canine.
"You seem to have learned a few things," Virren noted as he came up to the door.
"Yrou sit in a cage with Arrcans and yrou'rl lrearn how to fit in quickly," he said as he pulled his shirt off. "Arrcans who sit alrone attrract attention, and that's the lrast thing yrou everr want to do."
"Still, it's easy to see in you, Kyv. You're very comfortable like that."
He looked at his furry hand. "I guess I am," he shrugged. "I've been an Arrcan, Virren. It can't help but mrake you comforrtabre in some wrays."
Virren shook his head slightly while giving him a warning look. It must not be safe to talk freely out here, he probably had a few apprentices he didn't entirely trust. He nodded and padded into the storeroom, then bent down to take off his breeches, then yawned, showing off his impressive teeth. Virren leaned against the door, giving him an amused look. "You really do have exotic fur," he noted. "And you're sure not afraid to show it off."
"Yrou have no idea," Kyven growled. "And the furr mrakes mre feel lrike I'm already wrearing crothes."
"I can imagine. Go ahead and get some sleep, man. I'll call Timble over when you wake up."
"Thanks, Virren. Forr everrything."
He padded over to the pallet and collapsed heavily onto it as Virren closed the door and left him to himself, not even bothering to try to dry off. He was very tired, and for the first time in a long time, he felt safe.
It was a glorious feeling.
He closed his eyes with a contented sigh, for he had achieved his first little victory. He made it to Atan first. With luck, Virren would get him out of here before the hunters arrived, and the only one that knew he was here was that Loreguard captain, who would hopefully leave before the hunters got here, she heard who they were coming for, and pieced it together.
That might cause Virren some trouble, he realized. The hunters would find out Virren had seen him, and Virren would have to explain a few things. But, Kyven recalled that Virren never said to the captain that he bought him, he said that he got him. He could claim to capture him, hold him for a couple of days, then lose him when he slipped his collar and escaped.
And if Kyven could escape from the famous blue ring, they'd believe he was capable of escaping from a village alchemist.
He awoke early that afternoon. His fur on his side and stomach was still a little musty where he was laying on it, but the rest of him was dry. He yawned and sat on his haunches on the pallet and attended to his matted fur, combing it out with his fingers to clear the mats and restore it to its glossy glory, then stretched languidly. He picked up his pants and found them to be dry, so he put them back on, then pulled his shirt back over his head. He combed out his bushy tail to completely erase the effects of the rain, then decided it was time to go face reality.
He opened the door from all fours, then peered out into the hallway. It was empty, which urged him out of the small storeroom. He needed to talk to Virren, so he could go get Timble. He also had to do some writing. With Holm gone, he and Timble were now the owners of the shop, and that made him the senior, majority partner, since he'd been an owner first. It was his shop now, with Timble owning a stake in it. The rolls of the guild's records would reflect that, and since he was the owner, that meant that Timble could do no business with the guild in the name of the shop so long as Kyven was the owner and he wasn't declared dead. He had to give Timble that authority, which he could do with a witnessed letter to the guild granting Timble the authority to conduct business for the shop while he was gone. It was an easy problem to fix, and in a way, it was probably a good thing Kyven got back when he did. Timble could cut and sell crystals, but he couldn't do business with the guild, take apprentices, or take new contracts with other guilded artisans, like the alchemist's guild or the rope makers' guild or the miners' guild. He could only honor the contracts the shop already had and do freelance work.
An apprentice Kyven only knew by face appeared in the hallway. Kyven looked up at him from his position on all fours, then the teenager turned back towards the foundry. "Master Virren, the new Arcan's awake!" he called, then he walked past Kyven towards the big storeroom at the end of the hall. Kyven watched him go by, a little relieved. Clearly, the boy didn't give him a second thought.
"Stand up," Virren called. Kyven looked back to him, then rose up onto his legs. "Don't walk around like that, Shadow," he stressed, obviously giving him a new name to use while in the shop. "If you walk like an animal, people will treat you like one."
"I'rm kinda used to it," he said.
"Well, break the habit while you're here," Virren told him. "It's not common practice, if you'll recall. Don't stand out."
He was right. Kyven remembered that he almost never saw Arcans walking on all fours in the village. They all walked on two feet. He nodded. "We need to see Timblre."
"Let's go over to your shop," Virren told him. "I already told him I'd be coming to see him today."
Virren and Kyven went out the back door, then down to the side door to his shop. His shop. Trinity, that felt like a lifetime ago! He put his hand on the door. All his life, this had been his dream. His own shop, buying the shop from Holm and living his life here, in the place where he'd grown up. How distant that dream was now, even when it was literally sitting in his lap. The shop was his now. It belonged to him. He wanted to keep the shop, but only to use as a cover while he worked for the Masked. The dream of being the next master cutter of Atan… was dead. He may never sit at his bench and cut a crystal again.
But, there were other things important here. He had to give Timble the power to run the shop in the eyes of the guild, before the shop had to start digging into its reserves. The shop was actually quite rich, it could run on its cash reserves for months, maybe even years, feeding all the apprentices and paying its bills before Timble started having problems. Holm had been the most successful cutter in the village, with natural talent that made them bring the most important crystals to him. He had parlayed that natural ability and skill into a miniature empire within the village, holding a monopoly on cutting the biggest and most valuable crystals. In a way, Kyven wanted to continue that tradition, but now he'd have to put it in the hands of Timble and let his younger friend shoulder that burden.
Kyven had a new dream now. His time as an Arcan had showed him how much they suffered, and he had to do something about it. He would take his place in the Masked, and work for the day when no more Arcans were slaughtered for their fur, or killed or beaten just because it amused their human masters.
"You okay?" Virren asked, putting his hand on Kyven's shoulder.
"Yreah. Just lretting go of an olrd drream, Virren. It's timre to pass it to somreone erse."
"I'm sorry."
"I'm not. I'rl be doing somrething mruch mrore imporrtant."
Virren gave him a long look, then knocked on the door.
Myk answered it. The young apprentice looked up at Virren, then glanced to Kyven and gave him a second look. "Master Virren," he said. "Come in. Master Timble's in the office."
Master Timble. That was almost amusing, and Kyven had to suppress a smile.
They went past the apprentice, who closed the door, and Kyven followed Virren through his old shop, his old home. He knew ever nick in every wall, he could walk this place blindfolded. They went down into the main shop, the large room with many benches, then crossed it on their way to the office. Kyven had to stop when they reached his bench, the bench closest to the office door, his status as the senior apprentice when he was here. He knew every tool on that bench, a bench that was a little dusty from lack of use, but it was all there, exactly as Kyven had left it over two months ago.
Virren tapped him on the shoulder, and he sighed and left his bench behind, going into the office.
Timble was sitting behind Holm's desk, looking a little harried. Holm's ledger was open before him, and he had pieces of paper strewn all about it, as he worked to keep the accounts. Numbers had never been Timble's strong suit. He looked up when Virren opened the door, then looked back and scrawled in the ledger with his pen as the two of them came in. "Virren, hold on a second. I just figured this out, I don't want to forget it before I get it down." Kyven looked around and saw that Timble hadn't changed anything in Holm's office, it was exactly as he remembered… except for the posts trophy sitting prominently on a new table under the window. He finished writing in the ledger and then closed it, blowing out his breath. "Now, what did you want to see me about?"
Kyven closed the door at a nod from Virren, then he stepped forward to stand directly in front of the desk. "What's about to be said can't leave this office, Tim," Virren warned. "Go ahead."
Kyven looked him right in the eyes, eyes that seemed to widen. Before he could even say a word, Timble stood up violently and gasped. "Kyven? Holy fuck, is that you Kyv?"
Kyven actually laughed. "Yres, it's mre," he said. "Hrow did you know?"
"I know those eyes, Kyv, I know those eyes! What happened? What did this to you? Is it some kind of new disease? Holy Trinity, what could change you into an Arcan?"
"It's a lrong storry," he said. "But as yrou can see, yrou can't terr–telr anyone."
"I say not!" he said, then he laughed and came around the desk, and actually hugged him. "I'm just so glad you're not dead! I've been worried ever since we got the message you were trying sailing!" He put his hands on Kyven's shoulders and sighed. "I'm sure they told you, but Holm passed away last week, Kyv."
He nodded. "Yrou'rre stuck in the lurrch?"
He nodded in agreement. "You're the listed shop master. The guild won't let me do business with them."
"Wre'rr fix that whrile I'm herre," he said. "I'rr write a letterr to them. We'rr use a trruth pen, they can't deny that."
A truth pen was an alchemical device that was used in guild business, and most official business. The truth pen could not be used to write a lie, and it bonded the truth to the paper itself. By writing his letters with a truth pen, and having them witnessed by a second who signed with the truth pen, the guild would know that the letters were genuine and they were Kyven's genuine intent. So long as he carefully worded how the letter was written, he could skirt the circumstances and simply authorize Timble to conduct business in the name of the shop.
"What happened to you, Kyv? What did this to you? What could do this to you?" he asked.
"The cirrcumrstances werre, unique," he said hedgingly. "It wron't happen to anyone erse–else," he said, finally pronouncing an L sound properly. "But I'm not safe anymrorre. I'm on the rrun, Timbr–Timble. I escaped frrom the br–blue rring in Alamrarr. They were selr–selling mre for mry furr."
"You escaped from the blue ring of Alamar?" he gasped. "How?"
"They think Arrcans arre stupid," he said bluntly.
"Well, we can find a way to make this work, Kyv. I can pretend to buy you, you can stay in the shop and run it in the background. We won't abandon you, my friend, despite what happened to you. You're still Kyven."
"That mreans a lrot–lot to me, Tim," Kyven said gratefully, patting the smaller young man on the shoulder. "But this isn't mry place anymorre."
"What do you mean?"
"I wras–I am an Arcan," he said, rising up to his full height, not ashamed to say it. "I've tasted whrat we do to the Arrcans, and I coulr–couldn't live with mryself if I came back herre and did nothing about it. I'm going to go find the Mrasked, Tim. I'm going to find them, and join them. I know whrat it feels lr–like to be torrtured, Tim. I can't just come home and prretend lr–life goes on. Mry eyes have been opened."
"Why don't you tell him about the Ledwells," Virren said simply. "That will make him understand."
Without emotion, Kyven described his imprisonment on the Ledwell plantation, describing how he was very nearly starved to death right out in plain sight, taking care to describe the collar he was forced to wear, and then the death of Arthur Ledwell and the thanks he was given for saving Annette Ledwell's life. "Afterr I saved herr lr–life, she sold mre," he said indignantly. "Sold mre in the br-blue rring, but I escaped beforre they put mre on the br–block."
Timble gave him a pale, shocked look. "I can't believe people are that cruel!"
"You've seen it, Tim. Remember the mouse? How those boys beat her to death in the street, for no reason other than it amused them?"
Timble nodded. "Something like that hadn't happened here in a long time, though, and the scandal of it still runs through the taverns. It's just not proper behavior."
"That's whrat I experrienced, but from the rreceiving end," Kyven told him. "And I'm going to dedicate mry r–life to trrying to stop it. Wron't be much time forr me to cut crrystals doing that," he said with a toothy grin.
"If that's what you want, Kyv, but still. This is your home. The door will always be open to you, no matter what you look like."
"Yrou've been a grreat frriend, Tim," he said, patting him on the shoulder.
"Been? I am your friend, Kyv. And I always will be."
"Virren, yrou have a trruth pen in yourr shop?" Kyven asked him. "Holm has one, but I don't know whrerre he keeps it."
"I have it," Timble told him.
"Good then. Get it, let's take carre of the shop."
"You have to tell me what happened to you, Kyv," he said as he went to the desk and opened it. "What did that to you?"
"It's hrarrd to explain," he answered. "Yrou can say it was a magical attack."
"A Shaman?"
He shook his head. "Something mruch strrongerr. It's not something that could happen to yrou, or just about anyone else, and it's not contagious. So don't wrorry."
"Oh, I'm not worried," he said as he came up with a gold pen. "Alright, here you go."
Kyven sat down at the desk and took care of it. He penned three letters that gave Timble complete authority to conduct business on behalf of the shop, to access the shop's funds in the bank, and gave Timble legal power to speak with Kyven's voice in legal matters for the village. Timble made sure to direct him as he wrote to make sure he didn't write away his ownership of the shop. "Tim, I mray never be back hrere again. If yrou want me to name yrou the shop masterr and mre the juniorr parrtner, I wrill."
"That doesn't matter. This is your shop," he said adamantly. "Master Holm wanted you to have it, and you being like this does not change that in the slightest. I'm quite content being the junior partner, as long as I always have my place here. And besides, as long as you're the shop owner, that gives you at least some kind of legal foothold if it becomes public knowledge that this happened to you. They can't just collar you and ship you to the kennel, since you own this shop. You're a land-owning citizen! You've got a seat on the village council now, for the Father's sake!"
"Tim has a good point," Virren said calmly. "Your status as the shop master does give you a legal foothold if what happened to you becomes public knowledge."
Kyven looked at the two of them, then nodded calmly. "Thranks," he said sincerely to Timble. "Now I know whro my rreal frriends arre."
"We grew up together, Kyv, you've been like my big brother most of my life. What kind of brother would I be if I turned my back on you now, when you need me the most?"
"You're a good man, Tim. I'm honored to know you," Virren told him.
After Timble and Virren witnessed the letters, he was done. "Go ahread and get those out to the guild, bank, and courrthouse, Tim," Kyven told him. "I'm staying writh Virren for rright now. Once I'm surre things arre gonna be okay, I'll be r–leaving."
"Where are you going?" Timble asked.
"I don't know, rreally. I want to help, and I don't think I can do that hrerre. I'll go whrerre I can do the most good."
"You can't tell the apprentices about any of this, Tim," Virren warned Timble. "If they ask, tell them Kyven got word of Holm's death through the guild and sent the letters in response."
"Yeah, I can understand that," Timble nodded, taking the letters. "I'll go get these into the hands that need them, Kyv. Can I come over a while? We gotta talk."
Kyven laughed. "I'd love that, Tim," he said. "I haven't talked to somreone hruman that didn't look at mre as a possession forr weeks."
"Come over after you get everything all settled," Virren told him. "I have an appointment with a customer in a little bit, so I won't be there. I'll leave word with Bragga, Tim. Oh, and Bragga knows about Kyven, just so you know. But no one else does. Just me, you, and Bragga."
"Hre had to, hre answered the door," Kyven chuckled.
"And your voice is the same, just like your eyes," Timble nodded.
"Hre looked about to faint whren he hearrd me say his name. But that's not even a candle to whrat Virren did," he noted, looking to the alchemist.
Virren laughed. "It scared about two years off of my life."
Kyven and Virren went back to his shop, and Kyven was left more or less alone. He padded around the shop for a while, ignoring the apprentices until they told him to do something, which he did to maintain the illusion that he was Virren's newest Arcan. They weren't rough with him or mean to him, but they very much saw him as something inferior to them. There was no one for him to talk to, really, nothing for him to do, so he sought out the other Arcans. They were standing in the forge, Old Gray sweeping the floor with one arm as the brown canine scooped the last of the ashes out of the cooling forge. Kyven picked up an empty ash can and held it for the brown canine, who nodded to him and filled it. Kyven sneezed from the drifting ash in the air, but didn't let that detract him from helping the Arcans finish their task. Though not a word was said among them, he felt much more comfortable with them than he did with the humans. The old coyote and the canine accepted him, and that made it a much more pleasant room than standing near the humans and being looked at like a servant… or a possession. The three of them carried ashes out to the bin out in the alley, which would be taken by a farmer who had a deal with Virren to use the ash for fertilizer, then the two of them returned to a small room that had their pallets in it, clearly done for the day. The canine took Kyven's hand in invitation, and he nodded and went in with them. Inside, Old Gray and the canine nuzzled him in friendship, and they accepted him into their group. Old Gray was the clear dominant between the two, by both age and seniority within the shop, but the younger canine was quite amenable to his leadership. Both of them not only could speak, but were quite articulate. "Virren said you were to be called Shadow," the canine told him. "They call me Steady, and he's Old Gray. Welcome."
"I know those eyes," Old Gray said, the first time Kyven had ever heard the old coyote speak. He was a little surprised to hear it. "What happened to you out there to make you one of us?"
Kyven was genuinely startled, then chuckled. "It's a verry long storry."
Old Gray tutted. "I think a few lessons are in order here," he said, pulling Kyven to the pallet and sitting on his haunches, urging Kyven to do the same. "Our muzzles are about the same length, let me help you speak right. I have some experience."
"I'll bow to it," he said immediately.
And so he received speaking lessons. The coyote and canine helped him work through his speech issues, teaching him the tricks of his muzzle to form those pesky M sounds, and how to speak without drawing out his R sounds. "It's all about the back of your mouth," Old Gray told him. "You're holding your jaw too forward. You need to pull it back in a little bit, try to get your lower teeth behind your upper teeth before you make those sounds."
"I'm afrraid I'll brreak my teeth if I do that."
"You won't. Just try it."
It took a while. It wasn't easy, to the point where Old Gray held his lower jaw when he tried speak, but he finally started making the right sounds. He practiced with them for a while, well after sunset, getting progressively better and better in managing articulate speech. It made his jaw a little sore, but at least he sounded proper.
Virren opened the door and looked in, then closed it quickly. "We have to serious problems," he said urgently.
"What's the matter?" Kyven asked.
Virren gave him a slightly surprised look, then shook his head. "That Loreguard captain has been asking way too many questions about you. As in you," he said. "She just spent over two hours interrogating me. Right about the time she finished, a stranger came into town, a man with a blond ponytail, and carrying a mana whip. He's asking people if they've seen you."
Kyven gasped. Toby! And a full day earlier than he expected any pursuit!
"I think that captain thinks you're not what we tried to say you were," he said very seriously. "But with that hunter out there looking for you, we have a problem if you have to leave because she gets too nosy. Can we buy him off?"
Kyven considered that. "I, I don't know," he answered, losing some of his concentration and backsliding. "He's a prroud man, when I escaped, it was the first time he ever lost an Arrcan. I don't know how he'd rreact if you tried to brribe him to leave me be."
"He's going to find out you're here as soon as he talks to the Loreguard, since that captain has such an interest in you," he said, scratching his cheek. "But, this might turn out in our favor. What she learns from Toby mixes well with the lies we've told her, it might convince her that you just came home after being sold, that you have some kind of loyalty to this place."
"What do you think she's doing?"
"I don't know, but she clearly believes you're not who we say you are. And since she's Loreguard, she'll probably take a very heavy-handed approach to finding out the truth. With her on the prowl, I'd prefer to let you escape, but that hunter complicates matters. He looks like a man you do not want to cross."
"He's not," Kyven growled, standing up. "I saw him fight once, he's verry nasty. How did he get here so fast?"
"I'm not sure, but it sounds like you were quite correct in your assessment of how they'd react," Virren noted. "But either way, right now we have a little problem."
Kyven immediately began taking off his shirt.
"What are you doing?" Virren asked.
"We need to find out what they're doing," he said calmly. "Where is the Loreguard staying? Where can I find them?"
"In the Crystal Chimes, but what does that have to do with you taking off your clothes?"
"I'll show you," he said as he untied the laces of his breeches, unbuttoned the backstrap for his tail, then pulled them off. He opened the door so it blocked the light of the lamp overhead, then got behind it. "Watch," he said as he retreated into the shadow, and then felt the coolness wash over him.
"Holy Trinity!" Virren gasped. "Kyv? Are you still there?"
"I'm here," he said in a low voice. "This is how I escaped from the blue ring. So long as I stay out of direct light, I can blend into the shadows."
"That's amazing!"
"Point me to the Lorreguard, and I'll find out what they know and why they're interested in me. As long as I stay like this, I'm not afrraid of either them or Toby. They'll never see me."
"As soon as you take off that collar," Virren chuckled. "I can see it, just not the rest of you."
"That's whry I have to take off my clothes," Kyven chuckled, reaching up and taking the collar off. "Go turrn off the lamps to the back door, and come back when it's clearr."
"Wait here," he said as Kyven came out from behind the door, and Virren closed it. Kyven looked to the two Arcans and nodded to them as they gaped at him. "It's a trick, the only one I have left," he told them simply.
"Shaman," Old Gray said with tremendous respect. "Would you give us your blessing?"
"I'm not a Shaman anymore," he told them. "That trick is not Shaman magic, it's just something I can do. I've been stripped of my powers."
"You never stop being Shaman," Steady told him as he came up to Kyven and took his hand in both of his own. "Would you bless us?"
"I don't know how," he said, a little helplessly. He wasn't used to this kind of attention. The Arcans in the cage in Cheston had treated him with deference, but not with reverence, and they accepted his request not to call him that. The only one that had made a deal out of him had been Silver, but didn't act like this.
"Just bless us," Steady said simply, bowing his head before him.
He didn't know what to do, so he just put his hand on Steady's shoulder. "May the spirits bless you," he said, which almost made the canine shiver in delight. If it made Steady and Old Gray happy, he'd tell them whatever they wanted to hear. It wasn't about him, after all, it was about them. He put his other hand on Old Gray's shoulder. "May the spirits bless you," he repeated.
The two Arcans stepped up and nuzzled him, one to each side of his face. Virren opened the door, and Kyven pushed them out to arm's length and looked at him. "Time for me to go to work. Be safe, you two. Take care of them, Virren," he said as he dropped down to all fours.
"May the spirits guide you," Steady said in a low, reverent voice, literally bowing before him.
"I hope not," he grunted as he slipped out the door and into the shadows of the hallway, then vanished into the shadows and was invisible to the eye.
This was his village. He knew every street, every building, knew where every lamp was, even know which cobblestones on the streets were uneven. He moved through Atan with confidence and absolute stealth, an invisible ghost, slipping by miners and villagers with quiet confidence on the streets as he moved down Gem Street, towards the Crystal Chimes. He knew that inn, he knew that there was a back door in the kitchen, but he also knew that there was a window high in the common room over the stage, a window that was commonly kept open in the summer to generate a breeze in the room and keep it cool. That was his way in, that window, where he could get up into the beams over the common room, up into the high ceiling and stay out of sight.
This was the Loreguard he was dealing with, and he knew they'd know if he was using spirit sight, but he didn't know if they'd be able to detect this little trick of his. That was the only uncertainty, one that he'd just have to risk. If they could detect the ability, he wanted to know now, not when he was hiding from a pack of Loreguard in some dark cave where he had no way out.
He reached the window, glanced up and down the street, then bunched down and leaped. His claws snagged the windowsill, and he had no problem pulling himself up to where he could look in. There was a lutist on the stage, sitting on a stool playing below him, and the common room had quite a few people in it. Many of them were apprentices and artisan cutters, but his quarry was sitting around a table near the fireplace on the opposite wall, that sexy captain and a few of her men. The captain had a bunch of papers strewn out on the table before her.
It was a simple matter to clamber up to the window, get a foot on the sill, then jump silently from the window to the beam. He jumped quickly and silently from beam to beam, unseen by those below, until he was on the beam directly over their table. He was in the direct line of a lamp hanging from the ceiling, disrupting his shadowy cloak, but he was also high up and on a wide beam, very hard to see from the floor below from any angle. It was dusty up on top of the beam, so he had to be very careful not to move or he'd send a cascade of dust down onto the Loreguard, so he kept his tail high and very carefully lowered himself directly down onto the beam, laying on it without shifting around, then put his chin on his paws and listened to them.
"There isn't much information about him around this place," a male voice said. "Seems he kept to himself and was very quiet and withdrawn. About the only thing most folks have to say about him was that he was quiet but friendly if you talked to him, didn't seem to want to make friends, and he was the best cutter in the village."
"He bought out his contract prospecting," another voice said. "Scuttlebutt is he found a white crystal while prospecting, and used it to buy out his contract and buy into the shop where he was apprenticed. With the shop master dead, it makes him the owner now, but he's not here."
"Oh, he's here, alright," the woman said adamantly. "You're sure they have records of him dating back to his apprenticeship?"
"The crystalcutter's guild did," came a third voice. "He's been on the rolls for ten years as an apprentice, then he was promoted to artisan about three months ago, after his lucky find. From what we've pieced together, he left almost the day after that, to go experience the outside world before coming back to take his place in the shop, a somewhat common practice for some artisans."
"That just doesn't make sense," she growled.
"What doesn't make sense is your obsession with this man," the first male voice called. "He's just a cutter."
"You wouldn't understand," the woman said. "I'm not sure even I understand," she sighed, then there was the sound of rustling papers, like they were swept off the table. "But I know what I saw. It just doesn't make any sense!"
"Well, try to explain it to us, captain."
"You'd think I was insane if I did," she answered. "But insanity seems to be the only answer. That or I'm wrong."
"No offense, but odds are you're wrong," came an amused call. "But explain it to us."
"Alright. I think that this man is an Arcan."
"Yeah, that's crazy alright," came a laugh.
"Why do you think that?" came the second voice.
"Because those were the same eyes I saw," she said. "I looked right into his eyes in Riyan, and right into his eyes this morning, and those are the same eyes. It's just everything else that's changed. But there's no rational explanation for it. Either he's an Arcan Shaman who can change into a human, or he's a human that changed into an Arcan. Both of those are impossible."
Kyven's heart lurched in his chest. She knew! How? How did she know?
"Why do you think that, when it's impossible? People in this village watched him grow up! He couldn't possibly be a Shaman. Too many people know him. There is a Kyven Steelhammer."
"Ah know there is. Ah'm here tah catch him," came a new voice. The voice of Toby Fisher.
Kyven had to dig his claws into the beam to resist the urge to bolt. The voice came from right under him!
"And who might you be, hunter?" the woman asked.
"Toby Fisher, ma'am," he said cordially. "Ah'm a consignah. Ah'm here to catch him an' take him back to Alamar."
"Excuse me? Alamar?" she asked. "Whatever for?"
"He escaped from the blue ring, ma'am," he answered.
"Really?" she asked curiously. "And this Arcan's name is Kyven?"
"Ayah, ma'am," he answered. "He's a mutated gray fox Arcan. Black fur with white tips and ruff."
"Well, the Kyven we're investigating is a human, hunter, a shop owner here in the village."
"Then they can't be the same person," Toby said simply. "Odds are, my Arcan took his name from the man. He tol' the other Arcans in the blue ring he was owned by a cutter in Atan. Ah came heah to track him down. Atan is the only clue we got on him."
"There is such an Arcan here, hunter, but he's owned by an alchemist," the woman told him. "He was collared. I can only guess that your Arcan is loyal to his master and came home."
"Ayah, that's not what Ah wanted to heah," Toby said in a grim tone. "The Arcan's owned by Annette Ledwell, bought legal from the kennel in Cheston."
"Then he was probably stolen from here in the first place. If he was in the blue ring, he clearly must be valuable," the woman told him calmly. "Some merchant must have seen him in the street and stolen him."
"If that's so, then why ain't nobody in this town ever heard o' him?" Toby asked. "Ah've asked all 'round town, and nobody ain't never even seen the Arcan befo'. Every time Ah say that name, they all tell me that's a cutter that works in the biggest cuttin' shop in the village. When Ah give a description, ain't nobody never seen him befo'."
"His master might have kept him out of sight, if he is that valuable," a male voice speculated.
"Ya say he's a collared Arcan? Which alchemist owns him, ma'am?"
"Uh, hold on. Verrin Bandar, owns an alchemist's shop up the same street this inn's on. Hmm. He told me he bought him just yesterday when I talked to him this morning. And he wasn't collared when I saw him. He was soaking wet." There was a brief silence. "You say he escaped from Alamar? When?"
"Seven days ago, ma'am."
"Well, if he's in shape, he could have run from there to here in seven days. Arcans are capable of that kind of extended activity." There was the sound of snapping fingers. "I bet he'd just got here when I saw him! And that alchemist lied to me," she grunted.
"He must have come back to his master," one of the male voices called. "A loyal Arcan."
"That Arcan is the property o' Annette Ledwell, and Ah'm heah tah take him back tah Alamar," Toby asserted. "Ah have ownership papahs to prove it."
"If he's the collared Arcan of a citizen here, hunter, you're going to have an uphill battle trying to get him back," the woman said. "They don't recognize ownership papers in a place like this, and the town council and the mayor are the law here. They won't recognize any claim you make on him. The laws of Cheston and Alamar do not reach into the Free Territories."
"One way o' the othah, that Arcan is comin' back with me," he said bluntly. "It's mah job tah take him back."
"You'd better watch your step here, hunter," the woman said. "This isn't Alamar. If you run afoul of the locals, they'll run you out of town, or maybe even arrest you. And those papers won't save you from a stint in the Black Keep if you break the laws of this village, which we must uphold as a matter of oath. That's your fair warning."
"Ah'll do everything in mah powah to do things nicely. But Ah also ain't leavin' Atan without him."
"Then you might want to look into buying a house," a male chuckled, which produced a few laughs.
"Be that as it may, Ah'll go talk to that alchemist," Toby said.
"His shop is closed, hunter. They all close early here."
"Then Ah'll wait til mo'nin'," he said simply. "Ma'am. Sirs. Good evenin' to ya."
"Why do I get the feeling that we'll be taking that fellow back to Avannar in chains when we leave?" one of the male voices asked after a moment of silence.
"Well, he brought another clue to the puzzle, which just makes it murkier," the woman grunted. "If that Arcan ran all the way to here from Alamar in seven days… wow. He must be both in great shape and very smart, to evade detection and navigate all that unknown territory in such a fast time. Smart enough to talk, I'd wager."
Kyven did not like where this was going. He may be an Arcan now, but his voice sounded the same. If she got him to speak, she might recognize him, and then he'd be dragged to Avannar for sure, for the Loremasters to interrogate him as to how he went from a human to an Arcan.
Alright, this just got really, really messy. He couldn't stay because of Toby and the Loreguard, they both wanted him, each in their own way. Him remaining was going to cause chaos on the village and cause Verrin all kinds of problems. But, on the other hand, if he left, then he'd have both Toby and that Loreguard woman on his tail, and Verrin would still be in trouble with the Loreguard, since the woman had seen him and knew that Verrin had him. It would look very suspicious if he ran all the way up from Alamar to get here, then vanished again so quickly.
Or would it? Actually, Toby's presence in the village gave him all the justification he needed to vanish. In fact, it gave him the perfect excuse to leave, fleeing from the hunter that had chased him all the way from Alamar. Toby would give Kyven a reason to run, which would conveniently allow him to go on to Arcan territory without causing Verrin any excessive problems trying to explain to that woman why the Arcan she saw disappeared. In one fell swoop, he could remove himself from the scrutiny of the Loreguard woman, protect Virren, and move on to join the Masked, all in one fell swoop.
He'd just have to make a very public spectacle out of running away from Toby Fisher.
Guile and deceit.
That was what he needed to know. He carefully got up without scattering dust, then turned on the beam and started back across. He quickly made his way to the beam by the window, then jumped over to the sill and quickly slid through the window and dropped to the ground. The instant he was out the window, he felt the coolness wash through his fur, and he shook the dust out of his fur as soon as he was on the ground and bounded quickly back for the shop. He saw Toby ahead of him, then slowed down to creep along behind him. The man couldn't see him, didn't know he was there. He could have killed him right then and there, just pounce on him from behind and snapped his neck with his jaws, but no. He needed Toby alive right now, to perpetrate his deception. It might cause him problems later, but there was more than just himself to consider in this. He had to protect Virren, he had to protect Virren's unnamed contacts within the village, the members of the Masked that were present. He had to protect the very organization he wanted to join.
Maybe he did know. The man slowed to a stop, glancing behind himself through the corner of his eye, then turned around. Kyven froze, reflexively hunkered down with his belly close to the street, his tail straight out behind him. He must have made sound. Kyven couldn't be seen when cloaked in shadow, but he still made sound. He must have made too much sound. Toby was a very formidable man, it must have been enough sound for him to hear, and the man's trained fighting instincts warned him that he was being watched, he was being stalked. Toby looked to and fro down the street, then shook his head slightly and turned to continue on his way. Kyven stalked along behind him at a much larger distance, keeping a good fifty rods behind the man as he went past the shops, up towards the Three Boars. Kyven followed him as far as the alley, then slinked into it and then broke into a run as soon as he was out of sight. He reached the door to Virren's shop in a quick second, then knocked lightly on it as he kept his eyes on the alleyway, making sure Toby didn't double back and look down the alleyway. The door's latch opened, and Kyven pushed the door open with his foot and backed into the doorway, then closed it and looked back. Steady was there, standing in the hallway. Kyven thumped Steady's leg with his tail. "It's me, I'm inside," he whispered.
Steady nodded in the darkness and locked the door, then made his way back to the room he shared with Old Gray. Kyven followed them in, and found his clothes folded neatly with the collar atop them. He dressed by the light of a lamp at its lowest setting, creating a murky gloom, then instead of going back to his pallet in the storeroom, he instead padded through the shop to get to Virren's room and opened the door. Virren wasn't there, wasn't anywhere in the shop, he found out after opening his eyes to the spirits and looking around. He had to be out talking with the Masked, that or still out at the tavern.
Well, he could talk to Virren in the morning. He was still tired from his long journey, and didn't get much sleep. He had halfway expected Timble to come over to see him, but something must have happened. That, or Timble came over when he was out, and the others covered for him by telling him that he was sleeping. Either way, he'd find out in the morning.
Instead of sleeping in the storeroom, he picked up his pallet and carried it to the room with the other Arcans. They made room for him, making it a tight fit in the small room with all three of them, but the Arcan need to be near others was too strong. He needed to be close to them, and they understood his need. He laid down in his pallet silently, without a word, but he felt confident about things. Toby Fisher would give him the perfect excuse to leave Atan, and do it without getting Virren in trouble. Then it would just be a matter of getting away from Toby and hiding until the Masked came for him.
He was confident. In the night, in the shadows, he was imperceptible. They would never find him.
All the confidence in the world, however, had a way of blowing up in one's face when one didn't take certain complications into account.
He had everything nicely set up by sunrise. He'd woken Virren up before dawn and explained what he'd learned to him, told him about Toby, what Toby and the Loreguard captain had discussed, and then told him his plan. The plan was simple enough. Virren sends him out on an errand or some such, he sees Toby Fisher, then bolts. Toby would naturally chase him, and Kyven lures him up to the abandoned mines up on Saddle Ridge. Up there, with so many places to hide, Kyven could stay away from Toby forever. Virren would play his part by going to the watch and complaining that Toby is harassing his legally owned Arcan, and they come and detain the man, giving Kyven time to fully escape. Toby would be right back on his tail after being released, which gives Kyven all the reason in the world not to return to Atan, the rationale being to run from the hunter that has chased him from Alamar. Virren is cleared of any suspicion when they find his slipped collar up on the ridge, which further gives Toby reason to come into the frontier to find him, thereby removing Toby from Atan, putting him out of reach of the Loreguard captain that seemed to be interested in him, and putting him in a position where the Masked could come find him and take him out of human lands.
Virren found merit with the plan, and they refined it a little bit. For it to work, he'd have to have on a real collar for them to find when he slipped it, but a special one that Virren had designed that allowed Arcans to remove it, by completely surrounding the collar by the Arcan's own body. This was impossible for a human to do, but was quite easy for an Arcan with a tail to do. By pressing the palms together at the throat and covering the front and sides of the collar with the hands, he only had to press his tail up against the back of the collar. His tail wasn't long enough to do that when he was standing, but it was more than long enough to do it when he was sitting hunched over his own feet. Virren had him practice the move several times with the collar, until he could do it quickly and efficiently. All of Virren's collars had a very liberal set of conditions built into them. The collar would allow Kyven to roam the entire Atan village area and surrounding forest freely, from the base of the ridge to the east up to Maple Ridge to the west. The collars wouldn't allow the wearer to attack humans, zapping them with a painful but safe electrical discharge that caused pain but no damage, the standard punishment that the vast majority of collars used. Virren's collars had a "self-preservation" condition built into them that prevented them from punishing the wearer with a zap so long as the Arcan was acting out of self defense… and for Kyven to run from Toby would definitely fulfill the self defense condition. It would even allow Kyven to fight back against Toby if cornered, for he would be acting out of self defense.
Not that he really knew how, but at least he'd lose fast and with some dignity instead of just standing there and having a leash snapped on him.
It felt… nerve-wracking, wearing a real collar, despite knowing he could take it off. Though Toby's collar had been quite humane, the first one he'd worn still gave him nightmares. His body still trembled at the memory of the punishment that collar dished out. He kept touching the collar nervously, making sure it didn't have the knobs on it that the Ledwell collar did, and Virren had to keep swatting his hands away from it as they debated what Kyven would do after he left Atan.
"I don't know where they are, or where they go," Virren explained, putting away his ledger in the shelf behind his desk as they talked in his office. "That keeps them safe should I ever get captured. I can't really tell you which direction to go once you're out of Atan. I don't think they could find you out there any better than Toby could, so you'll have to come back to Atan."
"That wr–wouldn't be a good idea," he said. "I don't want to stay in a small area with Toby and that Lr–Loreguard woman here. How about if I go to Deep River and wait there? It has to be at least partially on the way for them. It's out in the middle of the frontier."
"Hmm, that might work," he said after thinking a moment. "It's a good three hundred minars from here, a distance you can cover much faster than a hunter on horseback moving through virgin terrain. You should buy two or three days on him easy. Alright, that sounds like a plan. I'll tell my contact that the plan's changed and you'll wait for them in Deep River. I'd just be careful there, Kyv. That's a very rough place, and since you won't have a collar–"
"Sure I will," he said with a toothy grin. "Just give me a collar with no crystal in it. They'll just see a collar, not the fact that it's a fake. It'll work, they'll see whr–what they expect to see."
"Clever," Virren said with a nod and a chuckle. He turned and went to his bookshelf, then pulled out a large folded map and unfolded it. "Alright, here's Atan," he said, pointing to a mark on the map along the east side of a mountain chain. "Deep River is here. About three hundred minars west southwest. The best thing to do is go due west until you reach the river, then follow the river south until you see the town. It's on the west bank of the river, but there's a ferry at the town itself. It's a very rough place, Kyv, full of outlaws and prospectors, and there's not much in the way of law out there."
"How wr–will I know I'm at the right river?"
"Kyv, the Deep River is like a half minar wide, and in a very wide valley. Trust me, when you reach it, you'll know."
"Ar–Alright," he said.
"Think you can get there? You've never been that way before, and you'll be doing it alone."
"Virren, I got here from Alamar, didn't I?" he asked pointedly. "I have a compass, and Aden taught mre–me how to use it. I can get there."
"Point," Virren chuckled. "That's wild territory though, Kyv. Expect to come across wild Arcans, and perhaps even monsters."
"I can manage."
There was a knock at the door. Virren quickly folded up the map and put it away, then motioned for Kyven to open the door. He padded up and opened it, then gasped and staggered back, then quite literally turned and leaped over the desk to put Virren between him and Toby Fisher. He was being led in by Bragga, who took up a position by the door when the lean, blond man stepped into the office. He was just as Kyven remembered, tall, lean, and hawkish, a very dangerous man with his pistol and mana whip on his belt, and that evil long-bladed knife sheathed behind his back, the handle jutting out behind his right hip. Toby seemed quite aware of the fact that Bragga did not leave the room, even though he didn't look behind him. "Hello, Kyven," Toby said calmly. "Ah tol' ya what Ah'd have tah do. Nothin' personal, friend. It's just business."
"You lose this one, Toby," Kyven answered from behind the safety of Virren's chair. "I'm back where I belong."
"Quite," Virren said calmly. "This is my Arcan, hunter. He is wearing my collar."
"Ah can prove he's the legal property o' Annette Ledwell," Toby retorted.
"Yes, but your paper is worth lighting a candle here in Atan, hunter," Virren said calmly. "The legalities of Alamar don't mean anything here. He is wearing my collar. I own him. Case closed."
"And Ah'm sho' ya can prove it?"
"This is Atan, hunter. I don't have to prove it. Here, I am a respected and prominent member of society. I sit on the village council, and I have the ear of the mayor himself. Any attempt you make to try to talk Kyven out of my possession is going to be met with a brick wall. I'll make sure of it."
"Be that as it may, friend, it's not what Ah came heah to heah," he said. "One way o' anothah, Ah'm takin' him back tah Alamar. It was mah job to sell him in Alamar and take the sale money back tah his rightful ownah. He ran befo' that sale was made, so Ah'm still responsible fo' him. It's mah job, and Ah'll see it through tah the end."
"I'd get a new job, hunter. You will not take him. Not today, not tomorrow, not next month, not in a hundred years. You have my answer, and I think our business is concluded, so you may kindly leave. And please, do me the courtesy of not coming back. Bragga," he said. "Escort this man out of my shop."
"Sure thing, Master Virren," he said with a nod. "Come along there, shorty. I'll make sure you find your way back where you belong, cause it sure ain't in here."
Bragga led a dark-faced Toby out of the office, and Kyven had to blow out his breath in relief. He had no idea Toby scared him that much, for him to seek safety literally behind Virren, hiding like a child! "Well now, I think he's been nicely set up," Virren said professionally, leaning back in his chair and looking over his shoulder at Kyven, then giving him a smile. "He won't be able to stop himself from coming after you now, knowing that he'll never get you out of here legally."
Kyven laughed, then leaned down and put his muzzle on Virren's neck. "Thanks," he said, nuzzling him.
"You're more than just skin deep as an Arcan, aren't you?" Virren chuckled, reaching up and scratching the fur on Kyven's neck.
"It was more than skin deep," he agreed. "And I could take lessons in skullduggery from you, Virren."
"I've been playing this game a long time. If I wasn't good at it, I'd be dead."
"That's a good point," Kyven agreed with a murmur.
"After you escape, I'll buy him off," Virren added. "I'll pay him what he thinks you'd have sold for and send him on his way, so he won't bother you again."
"I'm not sure it'll work," Kyven noted, rising up and keeping his hands on Virren's shoulders. "He's not entirely about the money, Virren. He takes his job seriously, and he gave his word when he took the job. He might consider his honor to matter more than the money."
"Ah. One of those," he said with a sniff. "Well, I'll take care of it, Kyven, don't worry. If he won't take your price and leave, I'll make sure to slow him down by pressing charges against him when he goes after you. That should hold him for at least a few days and give you way too much of a head start for him to catch up."
"I'll take everything you can get for me, Virren. I'm not proud."
"We'll take care of it, my friend," he said, patting Kyven's furry hand. "And I have to say one thing."
"What?"
"That Loreguard wasn't kidding about your fur. It really is soft."
Kyven laughed, then sat on the desk with his back to Virren and pulled up his shirt. "Go ahead, get it out of your system," he offered.
Virren laughed, but he did reach out and explore the black fur on Kyven's middle back with his fingers, experiencing its almost luxurious thickness and softness. "Incredible," he mused, grabbing Kyven's tail. "That trick of yours has to be an aspect of this fur. I've never seen its like before."
"I think so too," he nodded. "That's why it doesn't work on my clothes."
There was a commotion out in the hallway, which made Kyven look back to Virren. "Maybe the hunter isn't taking his dismissal lightly," Virren noted as the calls of protest got louder, until they were just outside the door. It banged open, but instead of the hunter, it was the Loreguard captain. Seeing her again sent a conflicting sense of fear, curiosity, and attraction through him, but Kyven saw that she wasn't alone. Two fellow Loreguard was with her, and they were holding black rods in their hands. "You will surrender that Arcan to me, alchemist, now," she said in a tone of total authority.
"On what grounds?" Virren demanded.
"Well, for one, you lied about him yesterday," she said, ticking her fingers, "and he's not who you say he is. He's using the name of a missing shopkeeper, and might have had something to do with his disappearance."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Well, then let's try this one on for size, alchemist. I think he's a Shaman," she declared. "This Arcan was in Riyan about a month ago, under the appearance of a human being. The only possible way that could be is if he came across your human, killed him, and took his name and appearance using magic."
"Do you know how ludicrous that sounds?" Virren said in annoyance.
It didn't sound quite so ludicrous to Kyven, because he remembered their first meeting. He made her suspicious, and if she thought he was an Arcan, well, it wasn't a stretch for her to think that he was a Shaman, given she was up here to investigate unique alchemy attributed to him. What would be unique alchemy for a human would be Shaman magic for an Arcan.
Kyven suspected that she was probably using some way to detect lies, so he thumped Virren with his tail to silence him and stood up. It was time to dance the truth in a jig so fast it couldn't keep its feet. He wouldn't be lying, but he'd be skirting the real truth in favor of truth that was true from his point of view.
"I'm not a Shaman," he declared humbly, keeping his eyes down. It was technically true, since the shadow fox was denying him his magic. At that moment, he was not a Shaman. "And the man you're looking for isn't dead."
"And how would you know that?"
"He got letters from him yesterday, he was talking about it when Master Virren went to go see him and took me along. Go ask him about it," he said. "How could he be dead if he's sending letters?"
"There's something going on around here," she declared, looking at the two of them. "Something strange."
"He's not lying, Captain," one of the men behind her said. "He's telling the truth, he's not a Shaman. Are you sure this is the same man–Arcan–whatever you saw in Riyan?"
"Oh, I'm sure," she said adamantly, boldly coming up to him and covering his muzzle and forehead with her hands, isolating his eyes. "These are the same eyes. Everything else is different, but these are the same eyes."
"It has to be a coincidence, Captain," the other man said rationally. "The truth crystal doesn't lie. He's not a Shaman, it would be impossible for him to be who you think he is."
"Well, something is going on around here," she declared. "You're not what you appear to be, Shadow," she declared. "Why did you lie about him yesterday morning, alchemist? When I came to see you?"
"Because he'd only just returned from being on the run from Alamar," Virren said glibly. "I didn't want to get embroiled in any disputes over him. He came home after escaping, Captain. This is his home."
"How did you end up in Alamar, Arcan?"
"I was captured by hunters," he said quietly. "I don't know exactly what happened. I was attacked by… something, out in the forest. When I woke up, I was in a cage. Hunters must have found me while I was knocked out, and they captured me. They sold me at an auction, and the people who bought me sent me to sell in Alamar."
And it was all technically true.
The captain gave him a long, penetrating look. She then grabbed him by the collar and jerked his head down, tugging on the collar. "Take it off him," she demanded.
"Uh, certainly, but why am I doing that?"
"I want to make sure it's real," she stated.
"Certainly, then," he said, producing a key from his pocket. He touched it to the back of the collar, and it came off of him. Kyven backed up against the wall as Virren held it out to the woman. "Care to put it on and find out just how real it is?" he offered.
"Yes, I think I will," she said, taking it from her and snapping it around her own neck.
"You asked for it. What's your first name?"
"Danna."
"Bad Danna!" Virren barked.
The captain yelped as the collar flashed with brief light, jumping slightly and grabbing at the collar. "Okay, okay, it's real!" she gasped. "Take it off me! Take it off!"
"Well, it does look good on you," Virren said casually, glancing at her with an appraising eye, then he chuckled at her murderous glare and unlocked it, then stepped over to Kyven and put it back around his neck, locking it in place. "Does that satisfy you, Captain?"
"It doesn't satisfy me, not in the slightest," she stated. "But it's answered the questions I have at this time. I'll go interview the cutter about these letters. What is his name?"
"Timble. It's the shop on Gem Street, right around the corner."
"Don't go anywhere, alchemist. And he'd better be here when I come looking for him," she added, pointing at Kyven.
"I'm not planning on selling him, Captain," Virren said smoothly.
The captain stormed out with her two sycophants, and Kyven went over and closed the door. He waited a moment, then leaned against it and blew out his breath.
"Very smooth," Virren said with a smile.
"You teach well," he answered.
"I think we'd better go find that hunter today… as in right now. I don't want you here if she comes back, she might decide to really grill us until she finally catches us in a lie we can't explain away."
"Won't she keep after you once I'm gone?"
"Probably, but I can handle her so long as we don't have to make our stories match," he said simply, reaching into his drawer and pulling out a small leather pouch. "Here. Go to your room and get your compass, then take this and run this up to the mining camp. Make sure the hunter sees you, then run like hell. I'm afraid I can't get you your pack or anything, because you'll look way too suspicious if you leave with it, and you don't want to hang around here once you run."
"I'll steal something frrom the mrining camp," he said, slurring a little. "I'll be alright."
"Alright. Good luck, my friend," he said, taking Kyven's hand firmly.
"You're a good man, Virren. Say goodbye to Timble for me."
"He'll be sorry he missed you again. He came to see you last night, but you already asleep and he didn't want to wake you."
"Well, tell him he needs better timing," Kyven chuckled as he took the pouch, patted Virren on the shoulder, then left. He retrieved his compass and tucked it under his shirt, hanging it by its cord around his neck, then crept up to the alleyway door. He peeked out, and seeing that it was clear, he took the pouch in his hand and advanced out onto Gem Street.
He didn't have to walk a single block. Virren was right; Toby was played like a lute. Kyven came out into the intersection of Gem Street and the Mine Road and saw Toby a block down on Main Street, coming back from towards the courthouse, then he turned his head and looked right at him. The realization that it was Kyven hit him immediately, and he turned towards him while his hand went for something on his belt.
Toby took the bait.
What Kyven did not count on was hearing a startled call from behind him. He glanced back, and saw the Loreguard captain and her two flunkies coming out of his shop! "Hey! Stop right there!" the captain called, turning towards him.
Holy shit, not good! Kyven dropped the pouch in honest fear and bolted, turning up the Mine Road. He immediately dropped down to all fours and took two bounding strides, but then something wrapped around his foot and yanked. He gasped as he was yanked literally to a stop, falling on his stomach on the street, and a glance back showed a whiplike tendril of pure magical energy snared around his foot, leading back to the rod Toby carried in his belt, now in his hand!
That was no mana whip Toby carried, it was something else!
He tried to kick the tendril off of his ankle with his other foot, but the instant his foot touched it, it stuck fast to it like glue. He tugged and pulled with his feet, but they were secured to the line like it bonded to him, like it was a part of him. Toby snapped the line as he advanced, sending the slack up against his legs, snaring his tail, but not sticking to his pants. It must not stick to leather, he noted clinically as he scrambled to his feet and one leg, and found that he could still move. He tried to run on two hands and one foot, but it was awkward, and then line suddenly went taut again, forcing him to pull at it. He couldn't give Toby and slack, or he'd snap the tendril up against his head or arms and wrap him up.
"Hey! What you doin', you fucker?" Bragga's voice boomed down the street. Kyven looked back and saw the big man charging towards Toby angrily. Bragga didn't know the plan, and was moving to protect Kyven from the hunter. Thank the Trinity! Toby turned to look just as the three Loreguard appeared in the intersection, and Kyven took that opportunity to drive his claws into the cobblestones and push off with all his strength. The sudden jerk on Toby's hand spun him around, ripped the rod out of his hand, and the instant it came free of his grip the tendril holding Kyven evaporated like smoke.
"Stand down, both of you!" the captain screamed as Kyven scrambled back onto all fours and raced away from them. "Stop, Arcan! Bad Shadow!" she screamed as Kyven scrambled past Oak Street, charging towards the hill that went up to the mining camp.
"BAD KYVEN!"
Kyven yowled when the collar fired, falling to the street and rolling as the collar zapped him. He rolled to a stop and rose up on his hands, shaking his head to clear the cobwebs. How did she do that? She used the collar against him! He had to get rid of it, before she used it again! He grabbed it with both hands and rolled up on his back, even putting his feet on it, then curled his tail over the back of his neck to satisfy the conditions of making the collar unlock. It did so, then the kicked it off with his feet, sending it spinning through the air as he twisted back onto his feet as she charged at him, drawing a black rod from a holster on her hip, then he took off.
But it wasn't her he took note of. Charging past her faster than any human could possibly run, Toby raced towards him on two feet, his legs a blur as he ran faster than a horse at a dead run. That had to be alchemy! He was running so fast, he could run faster than Kyven on all fours! He had his rod in his hands again, but he didn't use it, instead raced at him with blazing speed, trying to close the gap between them.
Kyven didn't bother playing or thinking. He just ran, ran as fast as he could, up the hill and into the mining camp. Toby closed the distance with every stride, but Kyven had learned through experience that great speed came at the sacrifice of turning ability. Kyven vaulted the fence at the edge of the Arcan pens and raced through the empty pens as Toby rushed up to the edge, staying outside of it. He angled away from Toby, towards the tents, then vaulted the fence at the far side as Toby slowed to make the turn to intercept him. As soon as he did that, Kyven veered right at him, startling him, staying on the left side of him so he couldn't bring that whip to bear, then literally crossed his path and ran the other way, which would force Toby to turn around. Toby reversed his turn and came around the other way, but Kyven was nowhere in sight. Toby looked back the other way and saw him on the other side, having reversed his turn when Toby committed to his own, and was now on his right side and behind him. The man jumped into the air, laying out, then twisted his body and lashed the whip at Kyven, who curled up himself and allowed the lash to strike him across the shoulders, against his shirt, which did not let it stick. Both Kyven and Toby rolled across the ground, but where Toby had to return to a vertical base, Kyven quickly got his feet underneath him and laid out into powerful strides, accelerating with blazing speed towards a rocky cliff face at the edge of the mining camp, dotted with the gaping black holes of old mines.
"Stop! Stop right there!" the captain shouted angrily as she and her two lackeys ran up the Mine Road with Bragga right behind them. Kyven glanced back and saw Toby again racing towards him with blazing speed, but he was too late now. Kyven turned slightly towards a huge oak tree up the progressively sharper slope up to the rock face, and then vaulted up. He impacted the trunk almost stunningly, going from a full run to stopping against it, but his claws found purchase and he literally jumped up into the tree in leaps and bounds, climbing it faster than the Loreguard could run. Kyven saw that lash blast into the tree, trying to snag him, but the branches of the tree didn't give Toby a clear shot at him. He climbed higher and higher into the tree, thirty rods up, forty rods up, fifty rods up, as the trunk got thinner and thinner.
"He's not going anywhere, stand down, hunter!" the captain barked at him.
"He most certainly is," Toby answered, then Kyven felt the entire tree shudder violently. It began to rock, then lean, and Kyven realized that the entire tree was falling over! It fell to the side, parallel to the cliff, and forced Kyven to move quickly. He clambered out onto a small branch, barely enough to hold his weight, then bounded down it and leaped for all he was worth, exploding from the canopy. He sailed out into the empty air between the tree and the rock face, then he slammed into it jarringly. His claws scrabbled on the rock for a terrifying moment, and then found purchase as the tree below thundered to the ground and then rolled down the slope in a cacophony of snapping branches. He waited a quick second to get feeling back into his hands, then started scaling the rock face using claws and main strength.
And he almost fell when the whip wrapped around his foot.
He slipped nearly a rod as the whip snared him, reaching more than seventy rods to do so, and he looked down to see Toby with a two-handed grip on the rod, the tendril leading all the way up to Kyven's foot. "Don't be no fool now, Kyven!" Toby shouted. "Come down slow and gentle, o' Ah'll yank ya off!"
Kyven did no such thing. He drove his claws into a knob above him and pulled with all his might. The sudden move dragged the man towards the cliff face, for with Kyven being so high over him, the man could not set his feet, could only use his own weight to try to slow Kyven down… which was not as much of a deterrent as it might be if he could brace himself. Toby was trying to do the equivalent of winning a tug of war with a mule, and he was outclassed. Kyven drove his claws into the rock and pulled himself up more, then set his free foot and pulled himself higher, inexorably dragging the man up to the rock face.
"Go get the horses and the other men now!" the captain barked at one of her soldiers as she surged forward and grabbed Toby around the waist. "Hold him down!" she barked to her other man. "We can't let him get away!"
Kyven suddenly had the weight of two men and a woman anchored to his foot. He struggled with all his might to raise his snared foot, felt skin tear from the lash holding him, causing blood to ooze down the magical tendril. But he drove the claws of that foot into the rock and found purchase in a seam, taking the strain off the rest of his body, allowing him to carefully choose handholds and a new foothold before trying to lift those three people. "Hold him, hold him!" he heard the captain shout. He looked down, and then with a gasp, saw her climbing the tendril!
She was coming up after him!
Was she insane? He could knock her off when she got up here with ridiculous ease! And yet she was climbing the tendril like a rope, hand over hand, with amazing speed, displaying hidden strength he'd never attribute to such a slender, sleek woman. He turned back to the cliff, seeing that he was only rods from the top, and then pulled his snared foot out of the seam and struggled to raise it, giving a growling cry of effort as his trembling leg lifted the weight of three people slowly yet steadily, until he tore his claws into a knob of rock and found purchase, allowing him to reach up and grab the top edge of the rock face. He again gave a cry when he lifted his leg and drove his claws into the handhold he'd just been using, but a glance down showed that Toby was now bracing himself against the wall, feet wedged against an outcropping as he pushed against the rope with all his might, putting tremendous strain on Kyven's foot and ripping both skin and muscle, sending a rivulet of blood down the magical rope. The blood slicked it, slowed the woman down a great deal when her hands hit it, causing her to wrap her legs around the rope and continue up at a slower shimmy.
Then, praise the Trinity, Bragga was there.
He hauled off and clubbed the Loreguard man off Toby with a great ham of a fist, then kicked the hunter's legs away from the wall. Kyven felt the pressure taken off his foot, felt much less weight on it, and moved swiftly. He released his foot from the wall and pulled himself up by his hands and free foot, leaving his snared foot tangling as he pulled himself up and over the top of the cliff face, getting everything but his leg up and over. The woman was just under him, and he felt her grab his foot, just as he felt all pressure on his foot release from the whip. There was nothing but the woman's hold on his foot now, and he looked over the edge to see her holding his foot with both bloodstained hands, the whip gone, and Toby and Bragga down below, Bragga with his hands up and backing away as Toby held his pistol on him.
He looked down at the woman. She looked up at him with steady eyes, eyes that were now afraid, but still strong and determined. She was literally hanging by his foot, and if he kicked her off, she would die in the eighty rod fall back down to the ground below. And she knew it. He had no idea what foolish notion possessed her to climb the rope in the first place, but she was now paying for that lack of short-sightedness, her lack of wisdom, for her very life was now in his hands.
He pulled his leg up, reached over, and grabbed the woman by the scruff of her chain hauberk. He pulled her off his leg as he hauled her up and over the rock face, then slammed her to her back on the ground and pinned her down with his hands.
"Who are you?" she demanded breathlessly.
"I'm not who you think I am," he told her, also panting. "And I mean you no harm. I just want to get away from the hunter."
"You are the man from Riyan!" she declared. "You are Kyven Steelhammer!"
"I am," he admitted.
"But–what happened to you? You were human, and now you're an Arcan!"
"This is the price I paid for making a terrible mistake," he said, not sure why he was being honest with her. It just felt… right to do so. "And since I don't want to be dragged to Avannar and dissected like an animal while you try to figure out how it happened, excuse me if I don't go into details," he said breathlessly, looking down into her eyes. Trinity, she was gorgeous. "I'm sorry you got involved," he told her. "I guess it would have been nice to keep my fantasy about you the way it was."
He couldn't resist. He leaned down and licked her on the face, slurping his tongue from her chin to her forehead like an enthusiastic puppy. She coughed and spluttered, and he used that to rise up off her and bound away, towards the path that ran up to Eagle Ridge, which would let him head west. "Wait!" she called, rolling over on one hand and looking at him. "Where are you going?"
"I'm an Arcan with exotic fur. You figure out what that means," he said simply. "I'm not going back to Alamar to be skinned and butchered, and that hunter will never leave me alone. And I'm not going back to Avannar to be experimented on and dissected. Out there, at least, I have a chance. If I try to stay here, it's just a matter of time before either him or you finally get me. And my prospects don't look very good no matter which one of you two ends up with me. So, ma'am, goodbye, fare well, and, since we're parting ways, I've been fantasizing about you since the day we met. I just thought you'd like to know," he said with a toothy grin, then he turned and bounded on all fours into the forest, leaving her behind.
Well, that didn't work quite the way he intended, but it worked. He would have stopped to tend his bleeding foot, but that woman was far too close to him. He needed time and space from her, and he could get both by running. He'd be leaving a blood trail and he knew it, so he'd go north to Cougar Creek, stop there to tend his foot, then use the creek to hide his trail and turn west when he could. The time it would take Toby to get up there, given he didn't know the area, would give him time he'd need to reach Cougar Creek, and it would be too far for the woman to catch up with him on foot. He could get his foot tended and be on his way and still have a good hour's head start on Toby.
And when darkness fell, he'd leave them all behind.
Danna rolled over and sat crosslegged on top of the cliff, frowning.
So, that was the same man. That was the Kyven Steelhammer from the village, whose life she had investigated. How did he get turned into an Arcan? What could have done that to him?
Whatever it was, she could not blame him one bit for running.
The mystery surrounding this man was deepening. Something had changed him from a human into an Arcan. She knew of nothing that could accomplish an alchemical feat of that magnitude, so that left a Shaman. Did he run afoul of a Shaman, a Shaman that had the magical might to transform him into an Arcan? He said he was paying for a mistake. Was that mistake angering a Shaman? Was there really a Shaman running around out there that had that kind of magical power? He had to be staggeringly powerful, far more powerful than any reports she'd read of Shaman ability.
It was a viable theory, but the amount of magic it would take to do something like that… she wasn't sure. Maybe it was some kind of magical accident, an ancient device left over from the Great Ancient Civilization. He might have stumbled across something like that. He had been prospecting, after all.
One thing was for sure. Nobody would believe her when she made her report, not with just a report. She had to know more. She had to solve this mystery, find out what the hell was going on, because this, this was big. She'd started her search looking for unique alchemical devices, and had stumbled across a human transformed into an Arcan, something that she would have believed absolutely impossible.
And nobody would believe her if she told them.
But still, she had her squad, and they'd obey her, at least. She crawled over to the edge of the cliff, where the hunter had a pistol leveled at the strongman from the alchemist's shop, and Lavers was looking up anxiously, waiting to know what was going on. "Lavers! I'm alright!"
"What happened, Captain?"
"He ran," she called down. "Get those horses ready and pack them with what we need for travel in the wilderness, we're going after him!"
"Uh, yes ma'am!"
The hunter holstered his pistol and looked up at her. "Then Ah'm goin' with ya," he called up. "It's mah duty tah return that Arcan tah Alamar."
"You'd better go your own way and pray you catch him before we do, hunter," she retorted. "Because the Loreguard now has an interest in that Arcan. If we catch him, we're keeping him."
"Ah'm sorry tah heah that," he said. "Sorry, mah big friend, it wasn't nothin' but business," he said to the big bruiser. "Good luck to yah," he said, then he turned and ran back into Atan faster than any human could ever manage.
That man definitely had some formidable alchemical devices. Speed boots and a snaring whip? What other expensive little toys did he possess?
Still, maybe she should have had him arrested. His attack on the Arcan provoked all this. Though, he certainly got out of his collar awfully fast…
She shook her head. Of course he would. Odds were, the alchemist set the collar so Kyven could take it off himself. She'd bet a thousand chits that alchemist knew the truth of him, and was his friend, trying to help hide him. She couldn't blame him, really. He was just doing what he thought was best, being a good friend to him.
He licked her. Eww! She wiped her face with her sleeve, feeling a bit creeped out about that, but when she remembered his eyes, all she could really remember was how handsome he'd been as a human, and how soft his fur was…
She got those thoughts out of her head quickly. That man was a human changed into an Arcan, and finding out how it happened was of vital interest to the Loreguard and the Loremasters. She would track him down and find the truth. It was her job, she was good at it, and she loved doing it. She could find him easily, she had his blood all over her, and that blood would lead her right to him. So he could run as far and as fast as he wanted, because she'd be able to find him no matter where he went. His blood would lead her right to him.
And she would find the truth.
The shadow fox watched the human woman with calm, mildly curious eyes. She watched her as the woman looked down at her bloody hands, then carefully cleaned the blood into a handkerchief and tucked it into a pocket. She had more blood on her, on her wrists, on the insides of her thighs in bloody streaks from shimmying up the rope, on her boots, on her surcoat, in her hair.
And in her body.
The shadow fox nodded to herself, unwrapping her tail and standing up, then padding on silent feet into the forest.
The seeds were all planted. Now came the patience of waiting for the harvest.
Her Shaman was on his way to Haven, with the woman and the hunter hot on his heels. He was leaving the human lands with a full understanding of what the real world was, and was filled with resolve to do something about it. He had learned the value of deception, but had also learned the value of truth. He had learned the value of mercy, but had also learned the value of ruthlessness. He had learned how to communicate with the Arcans, empathize with them, had lived life seeing the world through their eyes, and fully appreciated the hardships of their lives in ways no other human could.
He had gained much wisdom.
He now wanted to join the Masked, and his time as an Arcan had taught him both the harshness of their lives and how to relate to them on their level. He was ready to go to Haven now, to see the other side of the real world, bringing the hunter and the woman along with him, and ready to resume his training in the spirits and Shaman magic.
Things were moving along just as she wished.
She vanished into the forest, shadows consuming her, quite pleased with the progression of things.