Chapter 17
It was a cold time to travel.
The five of them loped on a sunny yet cold morning steadily towards the south, retracing steps they had taken months before. Three of them were old friends, but two of them were relatively new, and a little excited about the idea of what was coming. Kyven wasn't too sure about them, but he'd reserve judgment until he saw them in action.
After quite a bit of debate, it was decided that Kyven would take two apprentices, Clover, and an Arcan that was versed in fighting, to protect the apprentices. Patches was one of his apprentices, and the other was a small ferret male named Tweak. He was very nervous and excited, but that was just because of the newness of all of this and the idea he was going to go to Avannar. Tweak talked a lot, but he was friendly, earnest, and outgoing, almost like a male version of Teacup, though just a bit more mean-spirited with his wisecracks and teasing. He was only six, and had been apprenticed to an alchemist since he was two, working in an alchemy shop before the council asked him to take this dangerous mission. He was chosen because he was well known for having very nimble hands, and his knowledge of alchemy might be useful to them. Despite his young age, he was supposed to be nearly finished with his apprenticeship, and could build and repair alchemical devices. He was incredibly smart, but a little hyper… but he knew how to keep his mouth shut when it counted.
The fighting Arcan that was chosen was something of a surprise, at least to Kyven. For one, she was female, and for another, she was quite small. Her name was Lightfoot, and Kyven would have expected a fighting Arcan to be, well… bigger. She was a cat Arcan, not much bigger than Patches, with white fur tabbied through with black stripes, one of the most unusual coloration patterns he'd ever seen in an Arcan. Her hair was dull white in color, the same color as her fur, and she had piercing amber eyes. She was silent, very silent, almost never talking, but Tweak did enough talking for both of them. She was a lithe, sleek form, like Clover, but she was immensely strong, almost like a Shaman, and she carried a pistol and a slender metal shockrod for weapons. Despite the cold, all she wore was that leather belt that held her weapons, preferring to go unclothed. It didn't seem to bother her, though, though she went around with the nipples on her small breasts almost perpetually jutting out.
It only took them two days to get moving. Firetail had found the apprentices and Lightfoot the next day, and they were on the move the day after. Kyven would have preferred a little more time to spend with Umbra before leaving, if only to get to know here a little better–she was the mother of his future children, after all–and to try to talk to Danna. Danna was pissed about Umbra's pregnancy, and they spent most of those two days arguing with each other. Kyven had worked hard to be Danna's friend, but Umbra and her pregnancy seemed to have driven a deep wedge between them. Danna had told her everything she knew about Avannar, though, all the names and places she thought he may need, and Kyven had memorized it all. When he got to Avannar, he'd know where to start when he began infiltrating the Loremasters.
Kyven had a good feeling about this. He knew he was doing the right thing, because Haven needed to know what the Loremasters were up to, what they knew, and how they'd react, and he was the best possible choice for the job. He was probably the only one who could invade their organization using illusions and sift through their records, trick information out of their officials using guile and deceit. If the Loremasters were going to move against Haven, Kyven would be the one in a position to know about it, and send a warning to them. And while he was there, he was going to take that place apart for any useful information he could find. And when the time did come that there would be war, Kyven would be in the perfect place to disrupt the Loremasters by killing their leaders, which would throw them into disarray.
Danna. What the fuck was her problem? Maybe Umbra was right about her, that she could only see what she wanted to see in him. The fact that he was the same person inside didn't seem to impact her at all, and in a way, he was glad to be separated from her for a while. Their fighting had taken its toll on him, because he couldn't let go of the idea of her, no matter how hard he tried. She could only see the fur on him, she either seemed unable or unwilling to see the person inside. She did like him, and before Umbra came, they were getting along very well. But Umbra seemed to just destroy their relationship, because Danna couldn't give over on him. It was so confusing. She wanted him, he could see it in her eyes, but she would have nothing to do with him. She wouldn't let him live his own life, but she wouldn't let him go either. He could understand that it was hard for her to accept that he was an Arcan, at least for now, but there was no reason for her to be so spiteful. And yesterday she was spiteful. Very spiteful. She was angry with him over Umbra, angry with him because Umbra was pregnant, and she was even angrier with him because he was taking Patches with him. She raged at him that the little panda had no business going back to human lands, that she was too young, too timid, and too frightened to do what he wanted her to do, and then accused him of taking her just so he'd have a willing woman to fuck. That argument blindsided him. She seemed unable to forgive him for being Arcan enough to be free with himself to women who asked it of him, because that was the culture of the Arcans.
Maybe that was the core of it. She didn't see him as a human, she was seeing him more and more as an Arcan, and she wanted the human. So she was getting angry over the Arcan things he did. Well, he couldn't much explain to her that human men acted pretty much the same way. A human man wasn't much likely to decline that kind of offer. And Kyven was no innocent young boy. He was an adult, a man, and had visited the Atan brothel quite a few times before becoming a Shaman. He hadn't been subverted by the willing Arcan women as she seemed to think and was now happily living in sin. He'd been much inclined to that sin long before he ever met her.
Toby was too. Kyven had been a little shocked to find that Toby had been, ah, exploring the depraved side of human behavior among the Arcan women. He had three girlfriends seeing him off yesterday morning, and it made Danna's eyes bulge when they all admitted, quite casually, to sexual relationships with the sleek hunter. Maybe that was another reason why Danna had been so vituperous yesterday, after hearing that little bit of information. He guessed she saw that all the human men around her were being seduced by the wanton Arcan females, willing to fuck any dick that moved no matter what was attached to it. But she didn't understand Arcan custom, and even after a winter in Haven, she seemed unwilling to try. She had her mind set on how things were, and wasn't willing to open her eyes and look around.
More the pity.
Kyven was a little surprised, but shouldn't have been. Toby had a much different attitude towards Arcans, and had probably had sex with Arcan females long before coming to Haven. No doubt Toby had fun doing it, too. Having sex with an Arcan was… intense. At least for men it was. Kyven wondered idly what it would be like for Danna to have sex with an Arcan male. Well, since she wouldn't clench, he'd probably go a long time before climaxing, since the female's orgasm triggered orgasm in the male. Without that trigger, it would probably take a while for him to get to that point, where a female Arcan could induce it in him. So, perhaps she'd find it enjoyable, if only because it would be a long session, and human women liked that.
Maybe that's what she needed, a good healthy lay from some stranger that would fuck out the steel rod stuck up her ass. He would have loved to have been the one to do it, but that would have to wait. But maybe the next time he saw her, he'd drag her upstairs, rip her clothes off, and pound some sense into her with his dick.
The fighting made him bad-tempered last night, and made him a little aggressive with Umbra. She didn't seem to mind him taking his frustrations out in heated, almost rough sex with her, found it almost delightfully refreshing to see there was some fire in him. At least she was understanding, and had given him what he both wanted and needed. There was no love between them, but there was at least good sex.
Fuck Danna. He wasn't going to worry about her anymore. Tonight, he'd fuck Clover, or Patches, or maybe even both of them. He'd sink his dick in any willing pussy he could find, just to spite Danna. If she was going to condemn him for having sex with Arcans, he may as well enjoy it to the limit. If he was going to be punished, he was going to make sure he got the joys of committing the crime.
Because he was so angry and out of sorts, he was a poor traveling companion that day. He pushed them quite hard, and they reached Glenfall by early afternoon. Clover had to talk him down from going on, explaining that she'd much rather have a warm bed and a hot meal as much as possible before they had to start sleeping in the snow, which would be necessary after they passed Vanguard and entered the wilderness. Kyven was reluctant to stop, but Clover's quiet, calm wisdom talked him out of most of his ire after they reached Glenfall, and he calmed down enough to understand that Clover was right. And after she calmed him down enough to stop, they sat in the common room of the inn and talked. Clover was a charmer. She was gentle and wise, but she also had a keen mind and gift for conversation, and that was how she operated. She talked to people, got them to talk to her, and then gently guided them using her words.
The first thing she did was dig for why he was so angry and upset. Clover was not one to be denied what she wanted, and it wasn't long before she had broken through his token defense and learned all about everything, using gentle words to urge out of him what he wouldn't have told anyone else. It was Clover's way. In some ways, she was the most powerful Shaman among the Arcans… not because she was strong in magic, or was wise beyond all others, but because her gentle ways and quiet manner put everyone at ease and got them to talk to her, and to listen to her. Clover could do things no other Shaman could, but her power was a matter of personality, not raw strength. That was how she went after Kyven, and he was defenseless against her. By sunset, she was privy to every little thing that went on in Firetail's house, and she explained things to him in a way he hadn't considered. "Danna is frightened, Kyven. I know it doesn't look it, that she is too strong to be afraid, but she is. I know she has been in Haven a long time, but that doesn't mean that she still can't be afraid. She is in a difficult position, and she has little outlet but to take it out on you. You shouldn't read too much into what she says."
"It doesn't seem that way with Umbra."
"Umbra is different," she said. "She is angry because she has feelings for you, Kyven. Though you were only doing your duty with Umbra, Danna sees your fling with her as a betrayal. How would you feel if you were human, and Danna was going out with another man while continuing to try to woo you?"
He sighed. He already knew she felt that way, but hearing Clover say it to him just reinforced his own suspicions. "I know it's hard for her to understand," he told her. "I've tried explaining it to her, but she just won't listen." He sighed. "But I wasn't asking for anything, Clover. I just wanted to be her friend."
"The problem is, both of you want something else."
He bowed his head.
"What can I do, Clover?" he asked.
"Wait," she said simply. "Danna must decide for herself, one way or the other, before you can really do anything. Both of you need to get over this silly need to aggravate one another."
"I was never trying to aggravate her."
"Really?" she asked with mild calm, but piercing eyes which made him cough uncomfortably. "And what did you say not twenty minutes ago about inviting every female in Glenfall up to your room? Is that not just to spite Danna? Surely she'll get word of it."
Kyven sighed.
"Fighting childishness with childishness only makes both of you look like fools," she told him. "Her reaction to Umbra is spite, because Umbra is getting what Danna wants but won't take. Danna seems to be unable to think of you in that way as an Arcan, but she knows you want to be human again. So she waits, though her waiting is not pleasant nor calm. It is the erratic waiting of someone who sees what she wants being given to another. And that eats at her. I think somewhere inside her, she knows she can have you, but that will require her to accept you with a little fur on you," she said with a smile.
"So, in other words, not gonna happen," he sighed. "Danna's view of Arcans would never let her do that."
"And so it is a problem she must solve," she told him. "I think your departure may be good for her. She will have plenty of time to consider you without you there making her angry."
"But Umbra will be there, and Umbra's not above annoying Danna, or rubbing her face in it. She'd do it just for the fun of it. She's like that."
"So are you," Clover pointed out. "The two of you show some remarkable similarities. And I think you will find that Danna will leave Firetail's house now that you're gone," she said with a slight smile. "She could have moved out at any time, my friend. She was only staying because, at first, she was staying close to you, then after Umbra arrived, it was to keep an eye on the two of you. Nothing was holding her there. After Toby moved out, did you not find it a little odd that Danna did not do the same?"
"Well, Toby's much more comfortable in Haven than she is."
"Danna is much braver than you think," Clover told him. "She was staying at Firetail's house because of you. And your, escapades with Umbra did not help," she said.
"I never did a single thing–"
"Kyven. Firetail told me about the day before Umbra found out she was pregnant, how she and Danna walked in on you. Deliberately having sex with her in front of Danna wasn't helpful to your cause."
"I was making a point."
"Yes, and the point you made wasn't the one you were trying to make. You proved you could be an inconsiderate boor."
"I know," he groaned. "But she made me angry."
"Kyven, human females are very touchy. I don't think you knew very much about them as a human, and that lack of experience is hurting you now that you're dealing with Arcan women, who are very different."
"I guess so."
"Perhaps the two of you need to grow up a little," she grinned.
"I thought I'd proved to you I'm an adult already, Clover," Kyven drawled.
She laughed. "Well, then you need to grow in other ways," she winked.
It gave Kyven something to think about over the next few days, as they loped through the lands of Haven, and saw all the preparation. The villages in which they stayed at night were expanding, adding houses for the coming new citizens, and there were construction crews out in the snow building even more. There were many traveling Arcans in the inn, on their way to the southwest to prepare the land Haven had annexed for settling, which required all of their group to stay in the same room… not that it bothered any of them. Arcans were very social and didn't mind sharing.
After they went past Vanguard, though, things changed. Lightfoot was much more alert as they struck out into the grass and woods patchwork that extended south of the village, the silent little cat's eyes always scanning, her ears twitching towards every sound, even as they ran. When they stopped for the night in a snow-choked grove of trees, Clover took steps to make their camp both comfortable and secure. The snow choking the ground was moved with Shaman magic and shaped into icy walls with a single narrow outlet, and firewood was collected and dried out as Kyven ranged out to hunt. He brought in a huge deer-like animal Clover called an antelope, which surprised Clover to see. "They don't usually come this far east this time of year," she said as Kyven dragged the animal, which weighed more than he did, into the surprisingly warm encampment. The snow walls reflected the heat of the fire back into the small camp area, which was free of snow, dry, and the ground thawed out, again using Clover's magic.
Kyven both practiced using his shadow powers and also played a little bit after they ate. Sitting against his bedroll and pack, he raised a hand and lazily spun a small cloud of vaporish shadow into the air with lazy circles of his hand. He then took command of that cloud and reformed it into a silhouette he knew all too well, the sleek yet appealing curves of Danna, with her taut belly but nice bosom and feminine hips, a figure not many Arcan females possessed, since most Arcan women were a little flat-chested. The three females with him shared that trait, though Clover's chest was a little more developed than Patches' or Lightfoot's. Perhaps Clover's age was a part of that, Clover was twenty-eight, where the two females were both under ten.
Lightfoot stood before him, her white fur with black stripes glowing in the firelight, then she squatted down in a pose that left nothing to his imagination, showing him absolutely everything she had between her legs. Lightfoot was totally indifferent to that, though, and Kyven didn't pay it much attention once he got his first appraising look. "I think the two children should be spared watch," she announced. Those were the most continuous words Kyven had heard out of her mouth since he met her.
"That's fine with me. I take it you're volunteering to take a shift?"
She just gave him a steady look.
"I'll take that as a yes," he said dryly, changing the shadow cloud over his hand with a wiggle of his finger, making it take on an image of Lightfoot's silhouette as she was now. "You and Clover work it out, I don't much care what shift I take." He glanced at her. "You know, you're the only Arcan I've ever met that goes without clothes in the winter. Why is that?"
"I don't like them," she answered bluntly, without further elaboration.
"Isn't it cold?"
"It's cold regardless," she shrugged.
"Well, you're very handsome," he said with honest appreciation. "How did you come by such unique fur?"
"Birth," she answered simply.
Kyven chuckled. "I'm going to get a conversation out of you yet, Lightfoot."
"Keep trying," she said, standing back up, then tilting her head slightly when she saw the small shadow over his hand mimic her move. When Kyven had the little replica of her start dancing a dance still popular in Atan, the only one he knew, she gave him a steady look… then the slightest of smiles briefly played across her handsome face.
Patches snuggled down with him after sunset and they went to their bedrolls, which, in Arcan fashion, were all laid out side by side so they could sleep close together. The panda had been doing very well so far, hadn't complained, but he could tell she was nervous about this decision of his. She hadn't slept by herself since leaving Haven, sleeping in turns with Clover and Tweak, with which she had struck up a friendship that had crossed over into a physical relationship. It was good for her. Patches hadn't been very social with males since coming to Haven, begging most of her comfort from Kyven, and he thought it was a healthy step that she'd taken an interest in another male. Tweak was a little erratic, but he had a fast mind and could be very funny. And, since he was a small Arcan himself, Patches and Tweak just looked like a good couple. "Are you mad at Tweak or something?" Kyven asked curiously when Patches burrowed under his arm and snuggled against him.
She giggled. "No, I thought you could use some company, that's all."
"Company, or company?" he asked.
"Just company," she laughed. "I've missed this," she sighed. "I always felt so safe in these arms."
"Well, you're my apprentice now, so don't get any ideas," he teased. "You're not getting any preferential treatment."
"You think I could do it? Be a crystalcutter?"
"I've seen you use your hands, and you've got the dexterity for it. And you're pretty smart, so I'm sure I can teach you the technical aspects of it without much trouble. So yes, I think you could. I think you could be a pretty good one."
"I've never done anything before, or been good at anything before."
"Well, it's going to take a while, and you'll have to live in Avannar."
"I'm going to hide in the back room the whole time I'm there."
He laughed. "That will work," he assured her. "So, you're going to teach me to cook, are you?"
"If you want."
"I think I'd like that," he said, nuzzling her.
He took the last shift, gently shaken awake by Lightfoot, who was on her haunches beside him. "Your turn," she whispered. He nodded, and they basically traded places, as the small cat laid down between Patches and Clover and was almost immediately grabbed hold of by the little panda. He sat on his haunches in a tree limb near the icy walls of the camp and pondered his talk with Clover. He had to admit… she was right. He'd been pretty inconsiderate of Danna, he had indeed been acting like a child. The both of them had been, but that was no excuse for his own behavior. It showed a marked lack of wisdom on his part, and that was something he wasn't supposed to be doing. He should have considered how his behavior was affecting her, despite the fact that it wasn't his choice.
Well, that wasn't entirely true. He had no doubt that Danna got word that both Patches and Firetail occasionally visited his room before Umbra arrived. To Arcans, it was an eminently practical arrangement. Kyven was in the house, he was available, and both of them liked him. His… hospitality probably angered Danna as much as Umbra did. That Kyven was acting like an Arcan was probably part of what annoyed her. Telling her that he'd have probably been just as willing as a human probably wouldn't sit well with her, though. Kyven wasn't one that was too resistant to that kind of an invitation. He was, after all, male, with all the weaknesses for women that condition entailed.
But still, there was blame on both sides. If Danna would be just a little understanding, they could have worked through it. She would have to share him a little while, but after he got his humanity back, she would have gotten him all to herself.
Wisdom told him that he did need to apologize. He'd acted like a child, just as Clover said, grinding Danna's nose in his exploits. No matter what duty demanded of him, he didn't have to act like he enjoyed it so much, and that was probably what aggravated Danna most.
Still, it was going to keep happening, and he knew it. Both of them did, most likely. Kyven may be human, but he was in an Arcan body living among Arcans, and that required him to behave like an Arcan to fit in. Being free with one's self to those who wanted it was an Arcan custom, because it reinforced the powerful social bonds that were so important to the Arcan race.
Pack mentality. That's what the fox called it. Even in Arcans whose animals were solitary creatures, like foxes and cats, they shared that powerful need for social structure and togetherness. In a way, that was one reason why the gladiatorial pits in Cheston were twice an abomination, for they robbed Arcans of that togetherness and also made them fight each other, an anathema. Acts of violence against Arcans by Arcans wasn't unheard of, but from what Kyven remembered hearing about it, it occurred mainly in times of stress or duress. When Arcans were put in a position where lives were in danger, such as a single bowl of food thrown into a cage full of Arcans who were already starving, the strong turned on the weak… which was also a human tendency. Some Arcans, though, were just naturally anti-social. Perhaps Arcans got that from their human half. Just as there were social deviants among humans, there were ones among Arcans as well.
He could see why they did it. Why the Great Ancients introduced social behavior into Arcans. They were created to fight a war, and that meant that they were soldiers… and soldiers and armies were a social construct. Soldiers had to work together, depend on each other, and the pack mentality fostered such behavior by instilling into Arcans a need for togetherness. But that was programming. After so many generations of Arcans who had been born the more conventional way, he doubted today's Arcan was anything like those Arcans that had been created using alchemy. Arcans may have been created artificially, but they were a viable species now, and that meant that they changed over time just as others did. Years of breeding in slavery had changed the Arcans, bred the warrior aspect out of them, and instituted some different social mechanics as well as the ability to turn on each other. Human greed had been filtered into the Arcan society, though, to be fair, it could also be called self-preservation. Put any living thing in a position where it had to climb over the backs of others to survive, and it would. But greed was a good way to put it. The Arcans in Haven who labored to be like the humans and amass wealth and property were different from the much more social and sharing Arcans with which they lived, possessed of a slightly different sense of values from their kin.
A strange thought. Were those years of contact infecting Arcans with human behavior?
He wondered if they all saw it, or Kyven was just sensitive to it because of his unique position, straddling two different societies. He was human by birth, but had come to understand the Arcans quite keenly, and found them to be a noble and admirable people, possessed of incredible strength in the face of such hopelessness. He was just glad he wasn't the only one who saw what he saw, though. Humans like Virren and those who served in the Masked understood. They may not see the same way he did, but at least they understood.
About dawn, the others started to get up and get ready. The cat, Lightfoot, climbed the tree and padded out onto the thick branch with him, her feet and balance as steady as if she were on solid ground. She soundlessly handed him a large piece of meat left over from last night, and he took it from her with a nod. She perched with him in the tree, as silent as the grave, and Kyven mused that despite her silence and her abrupt manner, Lightfoot was just as infected with the need for social contact as any of them, since she stayed with him rather than leave him alone. Below, Tweak was getting an early start on wisecracks and teasing, focusing mainly on Patches. Patches didn't take Tweak seriously, having lived with the Shaman long enough to gain some self-confidence, but Kyven mused that had Tweak and Patches been together when Patches came to Haven, she would have reacted much differently to his good-natured teasing. It was an indication of how far Patches had come from the meek, frightened little girl she was when they met. She was still timid and a little jumpy and sensitive, but the first glimmers of bravery were starting to appear in her. The winter of being nurtured by Firetail had done wonders for her. The ferret was teasing Patches over something, which stopped instantly when the taller Clover padded by and slapped him lightly on the back of his head with her tail.
"Any trouble?" Lightfoot asked finally.
"Didn't see a thing," he answered. Tweak watched Patches go by, then he descended again on Patches, leaning close and saying something to her. Patches giggled, turned, and grabbed his crotch rather boldly. She leaned in and whispered something in his round little ear, which made the ferret's tail shiver. She left him, and he stood there a moment, then shook his head and moved to start rolling up the bedrolls. Kyven chuckled; no doubt, Tweak just found out that Patches wasn't half as meek and timid as she appeared to be. "I think this is going to be an interesting journey," he noted as Tweak kept glancing back at Patches, and not doing a very good job of rolling up his bedroll.
Lightfoot reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. He looked back at her, and saw a little invitation in her eyes. "Tonight?"
"I'm surprised you'd ask," he said honestly. "I thought you were much too serious to be interested in something so frivolous."
She gave him a frosty look, which made him laugh. "Sorry, I guess Tweak isn't the only one that likes to tease. I'd be honored. We'll see if you're this silent all the time, or if I can't get some something out of you."
He almost got a smile out of her.
Despite the cold and the snow, they moved swiftly and easily back along the path they had taken last summer. Game was plentiful and there were no problems at all along the way, not even any encounters with wild Arcans. It was such an easy journey that Kyven was surprised when they moved through thinner and thinner snow, and then almost seemed to cross some invisible line where the snow began to melt. As they moved further south, they moved out of winter and more and more into spring. The snow melted as they went south, and the air was warmer and warmer almost every day as they moved further and further to the south. They almost seemed to have journeyed out of winter and found themselves smack in the middle of spring as they turned more and more to the east. It was late April, and it took a few days for Kyven to fathom that in Atan, late April was when the trees were budding and the leaves were regrowing. He'd been so accustomed to the snowy, cold north that he forgot that simple cycle.
It was a very easy journey, and also fun. Clover and Patches were old friends, but he found friendship for the silent Lightfoot as well. She was a very serious, sober young lady, only nine years old, but both her parents were survivors of the pits of Cheston, and they taught their daughter the arts of fighting. Tweak, despite his sharp tongue, was a very amusing and energetic young man, as quick to help as he was to tease, and he had a very quick mind to go with his nimble fingers. Tweak was almost stupidly fearless, making wisecracks at Clover and Kyven as well as the serious Lightfoot, whose very presence seemed to drive the ferret wild. Lightfoot and Tweak were polar opposites as far as personalities went, but despite that, they seemed to get along… as long as Tweak kept his more bold ideas of teasing Lightfoot under control. She was tolerant of him up to a point, maybe even found him amusing in some ways, but when he crossed the line, look out. More than once, Lightfoot chased the ferret all over camp, and when she caught him–and she always caught him–she would spank him so hard his teeth would rattle. But Tweak would just laugh, vigorously rub his bottom to get the sting out, and plot his next joke to unleash on her.
They were a very cohesive and content little group. Tweak, despite his annoying tendencies, was Patches' partner in bed almost every night, and the two of them acted like they'd discovered the greatest thing in the world. As soon as dinner was done, the two of them were humping on the bedrolls like sex-crazed rabbits trying to repopulate the entire world in a single night. He was the first male outside of Kyven she had allowed into her bed, and Tweak had acquitted himself fairly well by being both enjoyable to her and also gentle with her… mainly because both Clover and Kyven made sure to explain a few things to the ferret long before Patches asked him, one warm night when she was in the mood and Kyven was already engaged with Clover while Lightfoot stood watch. The two of them had been friends before she took that step with him, so they already had a good base on which to build. That left Kyven with Clover and Lightfoot, which he didn't mind. Clover was both an old friend and a former lover, and he found time with her to be just as enjoyable as they used to be. Lightfoot, on the other hand, was intense. She took sex as seriously as she took her job, approaching it with an exacting attitude that Kyven almost found funny. But, he had to admit, that intensity did make it very enjoyable, and her tongue was rough, which produced the most amazing sensations–
That wasn't something Kyven thought about unless he wanted an erection.
The air was warm and sweet with the smells of spring when they arrived at Deep River one glorious afternoon, when the redbuds and dogwoods were in bloom, the trees all showed half-grown leaves of soft, beautiful green that swayed on a wind that carried the warmth of the changing seasons within it, inviting the world to shrug off the cold of winter and rejoice in the approach of summer. They had covered the distance from Haven to Deep River in two weeks, moving very smoothly without even trying, since game was plentiful and no troubles crossed their path. They entered the frontier town from the west side, the side from which he'd fled from Toby last summer, and the five of them padded into town as the humans and Arcans gave them all curious, speculative looks. Lightfoot walked protectively close to the two youngers, but the calm reserve on Kyven's face and Clover's confident steps seemed to dissuade the residents from getting too many ideas. They moved right through Deep River and to the river, then turned and moved north. They had a destination, and it only took about half an hour to reach it; the steep embankment leading up to the small cave of Clet and Stripes.
But they weren't there. Kyven and Clover climbed the narrow trail and found the cave empty, the barrels and jars and shelves all gone. The place was dusty, and had the look of a place unused all winter. The firepit that was dug outside the cave mouth was filled with partially buried blackened sticks covered with mud, as winter rains and snows pounded the bare earth beneath the ashes.
"Did they move down into town?" Kyven asked Clover as they looked around.
"I'm not sure. Bring the others up and I will go down and ask about. I know some few people in Deep River, and one will surely send me in the right direction."
As they cleared the cave enough to make it usable for the night, Clover left to go talk to her contacts. Lightfoot and Patches cleared out the firepit as Tweak went out to gather firewood, and Kyven used a few minor spells he'd picked up watching the other Shaman to clear the dust out of the cave, just blowing the dust out of the cave. Kyven had learned quite a few of those useless little spells from Firetail, and all of them learned surreptitiously. The fox seemed to enjoy the game as much as he, seeing how much he could learn by himself without her help, and then asking for the energy to power spells he wasn't supposed to know. It was part of the game of deception between them, a need to deceive that seemed innate within both the spirit and the two Arcans she created. Kyven and Umbra had been deceptive with each other, and the guile extended to Kyven's relationship with his spirit. Kyven had the feeling that his independence was a trait she encouraged, as well as his coyness. It was an exercise in deception, and in his upcoming task, the ability to practice constant deception would be vital. He saw it for what it was, nothing but further training. She wanted him to be independent, self-sufficient, and willing to press boundaries and push, push, push. It fit her nature, he saw. She wanted him to be on the edge of out of her control. She didn't want to lead him around by the hand. She wanted him to be able to think and do for himself.
After Tweak brought up enough firewood to start a fire, Lightfoot went hunting. Lightfoot was an amazing hunter. She was the most agile living thing Kyven had ever seen in his life, able to run through the trees as fast as a man could run on the ground, and that was how she hunted. She would use the trees like a highway, get over her quarry, and then drop on it. She never missed, and never failed to bring down her kill on the first try. She would land on it, dig in her claws, and it was over. It would struggle, but that meant nothing the instant she got her hand on its neck or head. Lightfoot's jaws weren't wide enough to kill something as big as a deer with a bite, as Kyven did, she instead broke the neck or ripped out the throat of her quarry with her incredible strength and her razor-sharp claws. She'd grab her quarry by the snout, and with a powerful flex of her arm, snap its neck, or drive her claws into the neck and rip out its throat. Either way she did it, it was invariable lethal. She was as efficient a hunter as Kyven, and had brought back a small buck for dinner even as Clover returned from Deep River.
"It is not good news, I fear," she told Kyven. "It seems that Clet and Stripes passed just at the onset of winter."
Kyven sighed and bowed his head. They'd been good people, very good people. He had been looking forward to seeing them again, and hadn't once even considered the possibility that they may be dead.
"It was natural, from the sound of it. They were found in bed. They died in their sleep. They had friends in town, who did them the courtesy of giving them a proper burial."
"I'm… shocked. They seemed so, well, lively."
"Sometimes age can be as slow as a snail, or as swift as an eagle, my friend," Clover said sadly. "I just wonder which of them was the one to pass. Stripes was so determined to outlive Clet," she sighed. "But, they died as they lived. Together, in harmony, and happy."
"You can't fault them for that," Kyven agreed somberly. "I just hope their final days were as fulfilling as the rest of their time together was."
"I believe it was, brother. There was too much love there for it to be anything but that."
It wasn't the happy stopover in Deep River he expected. He sat outside the cave, watching the river flow by, for most of the day, remembering his visit with Clet and Stripes, and mourning their loss in his own quiet way. He'd only known them for a few days, but they'd had a big impact on his life. Clet and Stripes had shown him how boundless love could be, showed him how there could be life and love between human and Arcan, and it was one of the reasons he'd acted the way he had towards Danna. He was hoping that she could see past his appearance the way Clet could, if only to give them a chance to get to know each other… and in a way it worked. It gave Kyven the courage to at least try to talk to her. They'd become friends, at least until Umbra arrived, and he enjoyed the winter with her and Toby, Firetail and Patches. It had been very comfortable, almost like a home. But things change, he guessed. His relationship with Danna deteriorated rapidly after Umbra arrived, and Clet and Stripes had passed away during the winter, and now they were both in the arms of the Trinity, hopefully still loving each other even beyond the mortal coil.
The weather, which had cooperated with them the entire journey, had finally decided to do something different. A bank of low, threatening clouds were rolling in from the west, and he could smell the rain that was surely coming. Spring rains were common in the region, since Deep River was close enough to Atan for him to consider them to be in the same region. If this would be a pattern spring, it was now going to rain off and on for a good two straight weeks, or more, then they'd have daily rain showers until mid-May.
Clover sat down beside him, and they shared a period of silence. Then she put her hand on his knee and patted him. "They are happy, my friend," she told him.
"I believe you," he said. "Was it hard to bind them, knowing it was going to kill one when the other died?"
"Not at all," she said. "For it was the right thing to do. They were so deeply connected that one would not live more than a couple of months beyond the other. Clet's solution saved the survivor months of grief and wasting away. Clet knew, and Stripes knew as well, deep in her heart. Remember when I told you about Master Malvok, during my own Walk? There is a time, friend, when sometimes it can be an act of love to end a life."
"Wisdom," he sighed. "Sometimes wisdom can hurt."
"Wisdom is not always a joy, my friend," she told him. "Sometimes it is a burden. But that too is something you have learned on your Walk." She leaned against him. "That is our burden, my friend. We bear it for our people so we may grant them aid and comfort."
"If they only knew what we go through."
"They do not, but they respect our devotion to the cause," she told him. "In some ways, we have more power than the council, Kyven. The council may rule, but it is to us that the people come with their problems. But open rule is not our way nor our desire. Let the politicians hold the sceptre of power, my friend. The Shaman are concerned with the people, not with power."
He leaned against her, and she put her arm around him. "Don't weep for them, brother. Rejoice. Somewhere out there, Clet and Stripes are together, and they are happy."
"As it should be," he breathed, putting his head on her shoulder.
The rain was cold, persistent, and made for a miserable journey, but in a way, it fit his mood.
The journey from Deep River to Atan was made in a perpetual steady rain, the kind of rain that soaked everything within a half an hour of exposure, but was not so hard that it flooded the rivers and streams. Finding out about Clet and Stripes had affected Kyven, and the others gave him a little space so he could work through his thoughts and come to accept it. They were his friends, and it was always a shock to find out that friends had passed on.
It was in itself a lesson, he realized. It showed him the impermanence of things, that nothing was as set in stone as one often thought. Things changed, people changed, and there was never any guarantee that one would find something the same way as one left it. It made him introspective for the four days it took to travel to Atan, but, in the end, he had to admit that Clover was right, and Clet was right. It was best for them to be bound together, it was best for them to see the end as a couple, for it was how they had done everything. He could mourn their passing, and had come to terms with it, but he did see that, in a way, it was alright to be happy that they were together. He had no doubt that no matter which had died first, the other would not have lived long afterward. The survivor would have been utterly lost, grieving, and would not have lived long, wasting away from the pain of separation. It was merciful, the way it happened. He could only hope that in that moment when the end came, that they were happy with the way things were. Stripes had been not too pleased about their bonding, but Kyven felt in his heart that Stripes knew it was the best thing. Clet would not have lived without her long, and he knew she would have been devastated by his loss had he died first.
He sincerely hoped they were happy.
They encountered several others during the journey to Atan. Elements of the Masked were out in the forest along the very route that they were taking, setting up supply stations for the imminent influx of Arcans that would be moving west as soon as the word was spread to begin the operation. Atan was one of the target villages in their plan, and Virren was doubtlessly involved in it. Odds were, the humans and Arcans out here setting up the supply stations were there at Virren's orders. The meetings were always cordial once they recognized Clover, who was well known to the Masked in the area, and both she and Kyven were often giving out blessings to the Arcans working on the project. Arcans in Haven didn't often ask for blessings, but they were no longer in Haven, and the Arcans out here asked for blessing almost religiously.
They all prepared for Atan. Kyven prepared by practicing his human illusion every day all day, which looked a little strange seeing a human running like an Arcan, and running as fast as an Arcan. Atan would be his first major test, because he had to fool people who knew him. His illusion had to be perfect, and it had to move perfectly, or people would notice. Clover prepared the others by drilling into them about every ten minutes for three days that nobody knew of Haven in human lands except the Shaman. The Masked did not know, the Arcans living in human lands did not know. That was a secret that had to be kept at all costs, no matter what. Clover made it brutally apparent to them that anyone who accidentally heard of Haven from them would be killed, no matter who it was… even if it was Kyven's oldest friends. Clover especially bored that fact into Tweak, and warned them all, repeatedly, that they absolutely had to think about what they were saying before they said anything. She told them that if they couldn't control their mouths, then just keep the fuck quiet and let Clover and Kyven talk, because the survival of their people hinged on their silence.
They timed it so they would arrive in Atan late in the afternoon, just as the shops closed for the day, and they did so, one soggy, rainy afternoon just before sunset. They had circled very wide of Atan and approached along the Avannar Road, and Kyven was now hiding behind an illusion of himself as a human. Clover and the others filed along behind him, uncollared, but the rain would keep anyone from looking too closely at them. It was a challenge to make his illusion of himself appear to be wet, since he had to envision all the water dripping out of his hair and off his illusory clothes, while making the real water dripping out of his fur appear to look normal. He had to invent a surcoat and a few folds in the illusory clothing to match up with where water dripped out of his fur so as not to introduce an element of doubt into the illusion. But months of practice had made him ready for the challenge, and so it was an utterly normal-looking, wet, and miserable Kyven led four Arcans up the Avannar road, past the kennels, and into the village of Atan.
It felt… strange to be back here. It felt like it was a lifetime ago, and yet he knew every single nuance of this place, a part of his former life. He knew everyone in the village by name, though not well since he'd avoided conversation when he was here, back when he was trying to keep his dark secret. But this was, still, his home, and he felt both oddly wistful and a little excited to be back.
Home.
Their first visit wouldn't be with Timble, it would instead be with Virren. He led the others through the village confidently, and down the narrow alley that linked Virren's shop with his own. He knocked loudly on Virren's alley door, and it was opened almost immediately by the huge, brutish-looking Bragga. Bragga's eyes almost popped out of his head when he saw Kyven. "Kyv!" he gasped. "Look at you!"
"You'll be even more surprised later," he said ruefully. "May we see Virren?"
"Come in, come in!" he said, backing up and opening the door fully. Kyven and the others stepped in, and once the door was closed, Kyven used Shaman magic to strip all the water out of his fur, then dried out Patches and Tweak as Clover dried out herself and Lightfoot. Bragga looked closely at the four Arcans, then led them along the passageway, through a workroom, and to Virren's office.
Virren wasn't alone. To his surprise, Timble was sitting in one of the chairs facing Virren's cluttered desk, and his old friend looked much more mature. In the winter Kyven had been in Haven, Timble had grown from looking like a half-grown boy to a man, with mature eyes and a leaner frame. The responsibilities of running the shop had stamped themselves on his features, but it did not look bad. Timble stood up and rushed over with a laugh of surprise and embraced Kyven, but then his hands froze when he touched what shouldn't be there. "Kyv!" he gasped, touching the invisible fur on Kyven's neck. "What's going on?"
Kyven dismissed the illusion as soon as Bragga closed the door and revealed the truth to them. "As you can see, I'm still the same," he said with a toothy grin. "I've just learned magic to hide it, that's all."
Timble laughed. "It worked! I saw you and thought you'd been changed back!"
"Not yet, but hopefully soon," he said, clapping Timble on the shoulder. "How have you been?"
"A little harried, but okay," he answered. "I'm not too surprised to see you, Kyv. When word got back to us what was going on, I thought you may come back out."
Kyven looked at him curiously.
"Timble has joined the Masked, Kyv," Virren told him with a smile. "Finally, we have a high-ranking member of the crystalcutters among us. A real coup."
"I'm not sure to congratulate you or ask what insanity possessed you," Kyven grinned. "And what am I, Virren?"
Timble laughed, but Virren smiled. "You're a Shaman, Kyv."
"Well, I'm a crystalcutter again," he announced. "But let's talk about that in a bit. Virren, Timble, I'd like you to meet some people, though Virren already knows one of us. Tim, this is Clover."
"Shaman," Virren said, coming around his desk and taking her hands. "It's been too long since I've seen you. How have you been?"
"I've been well, my old friend, very well," she answered. "And I've heard much about you, young Timble," she said, taking his hands in turn. "I'm overjoyed that you have joined the Masked. Between you and Kyven, it gives us much."
"After what happened to Kyv, I just had to do something," he said impulsively. "I couldn't leave things the way they were. If he never gets to be human again, I can't just stand back and let him face what's waiting for him on this side of the mountains."
"He has said many times you have always been his fastest friend. I see his faith in you is well deserved," she told him, which made him blush a little.
"These are Tweak and Patches. They're my new apprentices," Kyven introduced.
It was a study in opposites. Tweak stepped forward boldly and shook Timble's hand, but Patches tried to melt back into the scenery, deflecting attention away from her. Clover took her by the hand and urged her back into the forefront, and with a gentle smile, she nodded and made her take Timble's hands in greeting. "Apprentice, eh?" Timble asked. "Is he teaching you Shaman magic, Mistress Patches?"
"Crystalcutting," she answered in a meek tone, not looking him in the eyes.
"I'll explain in a minute," he said. "And this is Lightfoot. She's our guardian, trained to be a fighter."
Virren looked her up and down and chuckled. "First, you should put some clothes on, Mistress Lightfoot, the village women around here take a very short view of Arcans going around without clothes. This is a very conservative village. Sometimes I'm amazed the village women haven't managed to get the brothel shut down yet, Trinity knows they've tried. Second, an Arcan shouldn't be seen in public carrying a shockrod and a pistol. I'm afraid you'll have to put them aside while in human lands."
"I need them," she said simply.
"I think a deep cloak would do the job," Clover said, looking at the striped cat with a critical eye. "It would deflect the outrage of the village matrons and hide her weaponry."
"It just might," Virren said. "I'll try to find something."
"Tim, I'm glad you're here, that way I can explain what I'm doing away from your apprentices," Kyven said. "I'm going to need your help."
"Anything you need."
"I'm glad you said that before you heard what I want," he grinned. "I'm moving to Avannar to open a new shop, and I need some supplies and equipment."
"Avannar? Why Avannar?" Virren asked.
"What is about to be said cannot leave this room," Clover said quickly, looking to Bragga, who nodded grimly and checked outside the door, then looked back and nodded. "The spirits are sending Kyven to Avannar to be our eyes and ears within the city," she explained. "As you've heard, the Shaman are beginning to move. The spirits have decided we need someone in the city who can gain access to the Loremasters, so we might know what they know and how they react."
"I'm going to be a spy," Kyven smiled. "My job will be to infiltrate the Loremasters so anything that goes across their desks ends up in the hands of the Shaman. But to do that, I need some kind of cover so I can hide myself in the city. And, well, what better cover is there than to be just another crystalcutter?"
"Clever," Virren said with a nod. "So you're opening a new shop to hide yourself in the city?"
"Yeah. I've learned how to create an illusion of myself as a human, so I can run the shop without attracting any attention. They'll never suspect I'm an Arcan. Tim, I need enough equipment to open a shop and train a couple of apprentices, and I think I'd like to buy one of the boxes of practice milk crystals from you."
"Kyv, it's your shop. You don't have to buy what you own already."
"Not anymore," he answered. "It's ours. I'm setting it so we own equal shares before I leave. I want you to have Artisan rank before I go, not just have the authority to speak with my voice in village and guild matters. I want it set up so you control this shop while I expand our business and open a shop in Avannar, but we both keep our names together. I want it to look like we're striking out in a business venture to increase our profits by expanding into a larger city."
"That would work," Virren said as he sat back down, stroking his chin in thought. "It's not unheard of, that's for sure. Why, Bargan Mell owns four alchemy shops in four different towns, here, Riyan, Avannar, and Balton. He came in, built up the shop, promoted his best apprentice to run the shop in his stead once it was viable, and moved on to establish a new shop. He's retired now, but what Kyven's suggesting is something that's been done before."
"Right. So, I'm going to buy a wagon, load it up with as much spare equipment the shop can manage to give me, and move to Avannar and open a new shop. It's all going to be totally legal, guild registration, everything. The shop in Avannar will be owned by both of us, just like our shop here is, completing the disguise that I'm just another crystalcutter looking to establish a new shop in Avannar, which certainly has enough cutters and alchemists to make it look entirely normal."
"We can certainly manage it," Timble told him. "Holm never threw away anything, so we have plenty of spare equipment."
"I can make a few informal announcements in the alchemist's guild, Kyv, sort of let them know that one of the best cutters in Atan is moving to Avannar, and that's where they should go if they have a valuable crystal that needs cutting."
"Not one of the best, Virren, the best," Tim said simply. "Kyv's much better than me."
"The only snag I can see is apprentices," Virren grunted. "It's unusual for a shop owner not to have any."
"I can get away with it for a while, since I'll still be establishing myself, and I'll appear to have four Arcan slaves," Kyven said. "And I will have apprentices," he added, motioning at Tweak and Patches. "Of course, nobody will ever see them, and they'll help explain my lack of them at first. I'll have four Arcans to help me around the shop, who will cover all those little things that apprentices usually do."
"You mean I'll have to clean and do laundry and stuff?" Tweak protested.
"Those are things that apprentices usually do," Timble grinned in reply. "My apprentices work, Master Tweak. They work hard, and not just on learning the trade. Go to my shop and try to find a speck of dust. My apprentices keep my shop spotless, they do the laundry, and they help cook the meals. It's part of being an apprentice."
"I told you that you'd get no special treatment," Kyven winked. "And I demand a spotless shop just as much as Timble does. We were both trained by the same perfectionist."
"Aww, nuts," he grunted.
Kyven chuckled. "Virren, I need four collars," he said. "I need them to have crystals in them, but not actually do anything. Something that will pass muster if someone examines them."
"I know exactly what you mean, and I've already made a bunch," he said. "I've had Old Gray and Steady making them, and we're putting milk crystals in them, part of the deception we plan to use when Operation Auction begins."
"Auction?"
"The plan the Shaman sent down to the Masked," he explained. "That's how we call it. We have a foreign agent here ready to start the buying, and I'm making collars for him to put on the Arcans. He's posing as a mining speculator from Phion who's buying an army of workers and marching them deep into the wilderness to hunt for undiscovered deposits. He'll keep buying them and buying them and marching them off into the wilderness, and if anyone asks, he'll stonewall them. They don't need to know why he's buying them. The Masked and some Arcans will discourage anyone from the village from getting too curious about where all the Arcans are going."
"Clever," Kyven nodded approval.
"The same story's going to be used in different ways all up and down the mountains, but only if pressed about it," he continued. "After all, it's legal to buy Arcans, and we can do anything with them once they're paid for. We just have to dissuade the curious who might start wondering where they're all going once they're bought."
"That's not going to be as easy as it sounds," Timble grunted. "Already, quite a few of the gossips in the village are trying to interrogate the life story out of our agent. You know how a new face attracts attention."
"I told him he needed to be here earlier," Virren sighed. "It just takes one busybody like Matron Methars to unravel everything, if she gets enough of a burr up her skirt to start snooping. I swear, there's never been a person alive born with a greater need to stick her nose in everyone's business than her."
"I hope your agent set up in the mining camp," Clover said.
"Of course he did, on the edge," Virren answered. "He can sneak quite a few Arcans out during the night on top of the ones that are marched out in the day to keep up the appearance. We've already set up a system for him to get the collars back to me, so we'll be using the same collars over and over. Our agent had the foresight to buy a mess of Arcan pelts to bring back to make it appear that his workers are dying and he's just replacing them, and skinning them to sell their fur."
Kyven wasn't the only one to shiver at that ghastly thought. To many humans, Arcan fur was a fashion accessory. To Kyven, they were once people, and it was a very personal and frightening reminder of human attitude towards him, who very nearly lost his own skin to a furrier, and could never forget the sight of that poor mink being killed in that kennel yard in Cheston, murdered for her fur. Arcans had died to provide those pelts, but in a way, he thought they'd approve of them being used to save other Arcans. Clover put a hand on his elbow compassionately, and he blew out his breath and nodded to her.
"A disgusting idea," Tweak grunted, "but if I were killed and skinned, I'd be happy to give my pelt to such a cause."
"Nobody was killed for it, he just bought pelts that were already on the market," Virren told them. "But it was a clever enough idea to send out to the other agents. Masked agents have been buying up pelts and shipping them to our buyers."
"Only wise," Clover nodded. "I hope the agents in other towns are as organized and prepared as the ones here in Atan."
"Well, not all of them have an alchemist on the inside with them to help, but I'm sure they'll manage. We just want to make very sure we have a very effective cover here, since Atan is so close to Avannar. If the Loremasters suspect anything, this is where they'll come to investigate. We're the closest mountain village to them, and there's a road that runs directly from there to here." He chuckled. "That reminds me, Kyv, what happened to the hunter and those Loreguard that chased you out?"
"The hunter is on our side now," Kyven answered. "He's a mercenary, Virren. We hired him, at least after we promised to pay him the money he has to pay to Annette Ledwell to complete his contract with her. He may be a mercenary, but he's very serious about keeping his word." He glanced at Clover, who nodded. "The Loreguard, well, all of them but one died, and the survivor was captured." He had to be careful; the humans in the Masked did not know about Haven, though by now they certainly suspected something like it must exist, given the operation that had been landed in their laps. They didn't know for their own protection as well as the protection of Haven itself… what they did not know, they could not reveal.
"The officer?"
Kyven nodded. "She's been held by the Shaman ever since, and she's even helping us now. We explained to her what we were doing and how important it was, and she actually understood. She's not very happy, but she sees how important what we're doing is, and she's helping. She's actually not bad, once you get to know her."
"That's a surprise. She seemed quite tenacious."
"She is," Kyven said simply. "Virren, is it alright if the others stay with you tonight?"
"Certainly. I can set up some pallets in one of my storerooms."
"I'm going to go over to the shop and visit, and see if my disguise holds," he chuckled. "Stay in my old room, and me and Tim can go through the old stuff to figure out what I'm taking with me. Tomorrow morning I'll go out and buy a wagon and horses, and me and Tim will go over to the guild and set things up. If we do everything right, we'll be ready to go by supper tomorrow."
"Geez, Kyv, you trying to avoid us?" Timble laughed.
"No, I just need to get there quick," he said. "I need to get set up as quick as I can. The more time I have to set up, the more invisible I'll be when the Loremasters start looking for me."
"I can understand that," Timble said with a grin. "But I'm glad you're coming to see everyone. They've missed you, and so have I."
"That sounds fine," Clover said. "I will enjoy visiting with Virren. It's been too long since we've talked."
"Much too long," Virren agreed with a smile.
"Alright, let's get moving," Kyven told them, turning to Clover and the others. "I'll see you all in the morning, alright?"
Patches stepped up and gave him a strong hug, and he patted her on the shoulders fondly. "You'll be fine, hon, Virren's a good man. And Clover will be here with you."
"Come child, let us talk with humans you can trust," Clover told her. "I think you'll enjoy your time here with Virren."
Patches let Kyven nuzzle him for encouragement, then she let go of him and went over to Clover. Tweak shook his hand, but Lightfoot moved up beside him, silently putting her hand on her shockrod. "Stay with them, Lightfoot," he told her as his image shimmered back into that of his human self, as he almost effortlessly formed the image of his human appearance in his mind, then called to the fox for the power to create the illusion. "I'm safer than any of us here. This was my home. They need your protection much more than me."
She gave him a searching, serious look, then nodded and stepped back.
"Just don't kill anyone in here. They're all good people here. Virren, I need a long sleeved shirt."
She almost smiled.
"Timble, take him to my room, I have a few that will fit him."
"I sure will, Virren," Timble nodded, and the two of them left as Virren asked if the others wanted some dinner.
The reunion with the shop was both joyous and careful. Kyven was happy to see old friends and was social, but up to a point. He was very careful of the tail that was there that nobody could see, keeping it tucked between his legs most of the time, keeping their hands only where they'd feel his shirt, and only touching them on their clothing with careful attention to his claws. Shaking their hands was a bit tricky, but he solved that problem with a very firm grip that made them feel the pain of his grip more than the fur on the back and sides of his hand. He also had to resist the urge to drop down on all fours, which was something he tended to do if walking in a straight line for any measurable distance. But it was both very good to see his old friends again, and good practice. He was no mind reader, but these, his best and oldest friends, didn't seem to notice anything overtly out of the ordinary. He was just sure to be careful, and he maintained a tight grip on his illusion at all times, always careful to match his movements up to the motions of the illusion, and not eat or drink. He declined all such offers, since he wasn't entirely sure he could make that look believable quite yet. He wasn't quite sure how to go about matching up how that would look yet, and it was something he realized he needed to do. A few days in front of a mirror watching himself eat as an Arcan and watching humans eat would help him iron out those differences.
They stayed up a little too late, and got involved in a few games of posts–and Kyven got his favorite posts knives back–which Kyven lost, claiming to be rusty but actually having issues with his claws messing up his aim. Again, something he needed to practice, since posts was a tradition among all crystalcutters and he'd need to be able to play when he got to Avannar. He went to bed in his old room, feeling a little nostalgic about his old life, but also feeling… out of place. This wasn't his home anymore. It was nice to visit, to see Timble and the others again, but he knew that this was not his home. Maybe it was because he felt self-conscious, having to fool his friends, maybe it was all that had happened, whatever it was, he knew in his heart that this was no longer the place for him. When he left Atan tomorrow, it would not be leaving home. It would be leaving the place in which he used to live.
Where was his home? He lay in the dark, his hands behind his head as his tail thumped on the bed between his legs. Was Haven his home? No. Haven never really felt like home. It was a nice place, but it didn't feel like home to him. There wasn't really anywhere else he'd ever lived, so he guessed he was just a little homeless right now. He knew Avannar wouldn't feel like his home when he got there, since he'd be there on business, and it would be a very nervous business at that. Home was… what was it?
It was friends. It was contentment and happiness, it was where one raised his children. Home was where his friends were.
Then why didn't he feel like Haven was his home? He had friends there. Umbra was there. Danna was there. Everything that would make it feel like a home to him was there. So, why didn't Haven feel like a home to him?
He wasn't sure. And he was getting sleepy, so further pondering of it drifted with him into slumber.
He was up before dawn, both because they had a lot to do, and he didn't want anyone walking in on him when he was sleeping, since he couldn't maintain an illusion while he was sleeping.
The first order of business was the shop. Kyven woke up Timble, and the two of them inventoried the equipment in the shop and worked out a split that would let both shops operate without having to buy anything extra. Kyven took his own personal tools and got two extra sets, as well as his own personal workbench. He was taking one chest of milk crystals and a few normal crystals, if only to hide the fact that he'd be getting the viable for-profit crystals from Clover. Once they had a list of everything Kyven was going to take, and the apprentices understood that he and Timble were going to expand their business by him opening a shop in Avannar, Kyven and Timble went down to one of the mine wagoneers and found a wagon that was big enough and sturdy enough to get them to Avannar. It took a bit of haggling to get the wagon away from him, since it was one of his biggest and sturdiest. Old Gevan ran a steep price for the wagon, and it was almost fun for Kyven to dust off some negotiation skills to try to talk him down while Timble bought two horses to pull it.
After he finally reached a price Old Gevan smirked about, yet Kyven could live with, they moved on to the next phase of the day's plan… at least after Gevan taught him how to hitch the horses to the wagon; Kyven had no experience with wagons. Kyven and Timble went to the guild, and there, Kyven had Timble raised to the rank of Artisan by announcing that they were now equal shares partners in their shop, with Timble having majority interest. That distinction meant that Timble had total control of the shop, and was no longer speaking with Kyven's voice. They then went on to file the papers to inform the guild that Kyven was moving to Avannar and was going to open a shop as soon as he found a suitable building for it, and asked for the guild in Avannar to look into some possible candidate buildings. As an Artisan, that was something that they would do for him, and with luck, they'd have a list of possible buildings or current cutter Artisans in Avannar willing to sell their own shops to him when he arrived. The Avannar shop was also filed with the same ownership, Kyven and Timble sharing, but Kyven would have majority interest in the shop that would be founded in Avannar.
"Looking to run some cutters out of business in Avannar, eh?" Sevalt Greene said with an oily smile, the guild representative in Atan.
"We're just looking to get more profit," Timble said. "The mines aren't putting out as much as they used to, so we decided that I'd stay here and get the mine business while Kyven goes to Avannar and tries to carve a niche out there."
"A sound business venture," he said with an understanding nod. "I think it's a good move. How many apprentices are you taking to Avannar, Kyv?"
"None," he said. "Once I get set up, I may have Timble send me a few from our shop here, but I want to get settled in and get everything nice and organized before I start dealing with apprentices."
"You know, that's the most I've ever heard you talk at once," Sevalt laughed.
"I was saving it up, just for you," Kyven said dryly.
"That's a lot of work, Kyv, how are you going to manage it?"
"I don't have Holm's prejudice against Arcans," he said simply. "I bought a few. They'll do the cooking and cleaning while I focus on business."
"That will work," Sevalt nodded. "I'll send word ahead and have our people hunt down some real estate for you. It may not be as big as your shop here, but it should be enough, and of course, we'll try to find something that has a strongroom, given what kind of inventory you'll be holding."
"I want enough room to house two or three apprentices," Kyven warned. "And my Arcans too. So three or four rooms in addition to the workshop."
"I'll make sure they're aware of it." He cleared his throat. "Do you want to handle the guild fees here, or when you get to Avannar and actually get your shop going?"
"I'll pay them now," Kyven answered, reaching for his purse.
By the time he returned to Virren's alchemy shop, everything was ready. He had a wagon and two horses, and the apprentices from both shops were working to load the equipment and supplies that Timble had slated for the new shop. Kyven rejoined the others, and saw that they were all wearing slender, almost dainty little brass collars, barely more than a loop of slim metal around their necks that nearly resembled an adornment or a necklace rather than a collar. Clover looked quite comfortable wearing hers, but the other three kept fidgeting, and Patches especially looked a little high-strung over the metal around her neck. Lightfoot stood resolutely near the door, her arms crossed under a deep woolen cloak that hid her nudity and also concealed her weapons.
"Are you staying, Kyv?" Virren asked. "It's a little after noon."
"We're leaving as soon as the wagon's loaded," he announced. "I'm in something of a hurry here, Virren. Are you alright, little one?" he asked gently, putting his hand on Patches' shoulder.
"I'll be alright. It's just bad memories, that's all," she said, touching her collar warily.
"Well, that one doesn't do anything. It's just a prop, don't forget."
"It's not easy to forget," she said tremulously, and Kyven couldn't deny that simple truth.
"Well, you'll have new memories soon," he told her.
"I'll just take getting moving," Tweak said excitedly. "I've never been–uh, to Avannar before," he said, giving Virren a nervous look. Thank the Trinity, at least Tweak caught himself before he said something Virren couldn't hear. "Is it big?"
"It's fairly big, young friend," Virren told him. "The city's divided by the Podac river, both literally and culturally. The working-class people live and work on the south side, and the rich folks live on the north side, crossing the bridges to go down to their shops and businesses. They have some pretty elaborate bridges, both from bank to bank and from the two banks to the island holding the headquarters of the Loremasters."
"I wonder what it looks like."
"You'll never see it, young one," Kyven told him bluntly. "They kill any Arcan that even sets foot on the bridge. Arcans are banned from the headquarters."
Tweak laughed. "So, the Loremasters proved that humans can do the sweeping and the gardening in their own headquarters."
"True, young one, true," Clover chuckled.
Kyven ran into an unexpected problem when the wagon was loaded and he brought the others out to it. Three apprentices, Braul, Vint, and Praidle, all but begged to be taken to Avannar. "It's not that we don't love Master Timble and we don't have it good here, but you're going to Avannar, Master Kyven!" Praidle wheedled. "The big city! I've always wanted to live in a big city, and this is my chance! Please take us! You need apprentices to help with the work and keep the shop clean!"
"No, Praidle," Kyven chided the twelve year old boy. "I'm starting a new shop, boys, I won't have time to teach for a while, I'll be too busy! Your training can't be interrupted right now, it's too important to you, and I won't have time to teach until the shop is fully up and running and I have steady revenue coming in. Besides, Vint, do you know what your mother would do to me if I took you from Atan?" he said, which made all three of them look a bit sheepish. "Now I might take on some apprentices when I'm settled in, but I don't know when that will be, and let's be honest here, boys. If I do, it'll probably be a couple of the older apprentices, ones I don't have to spend as much time training."
"But, but, what about the shop? Who's going to clean it, and who's going to cook for you?" Braul asked.
"I bought some Arcans to handle the chores," he told them directly. "They'll take care of me for now, and I'll be doing my best to earn enough money to keep us all fed and sheltered. Now back to work, all of you. If Timble catches you out here shirking your work, he'll box your ears."
"I'll do more than box their ears," Timble said in a dangerous voice from the doorway of the shop. "Back to your benches, you traitorous ingrates! And I think you three just volunteered to clean the entire first floor tomorrow morning after breakfast!" he barked, which made the three boys grumble and file sullenly back into the shop. Timble laughed after they were all inside, and he gave Kyven a rough embrace. "You be careful in Avannar, Kyv," he said thickly. "Don't get caught up in the big city."
"I'll be very careful, Tim," he said with a nod, clapping Timble on the shoulder as Clover helped Patches and Tweak into the wagon, putting them in the bed just behind the driver's bench, then she pointed at the wagon and gave Lightfoot a commanding look. The striped cat sighed and climbed into the wagon as well, then Clover climbed up onto the driver's bench and took the reins, waiting for Kyven. "I'll send letters."
"You'd better, or I'll bring the whole shop to Avannar and kick your ass," he said. He then reached into his belt and pulled out a leather-wrapped bundle. "Here, a good luck present."
Kyven unwrapped it, and found himself holding three brand new posts knives.
"I had Virren make them, exactly like your old competition ones," Timble grinned. "Same weight and balance."
"Thanks, Tim, I'm sure I'll get use out of them," he said, wrapping them back up. "When I'm hustling the other shop masters at the local taverns, mostly."
Timble laughed. "Just practice. You were terrible last night!"
"I'm a little rusty," he admitted, a bit sheepishly. He turned and shook hands with Virren. "Keep things sane around here, you two," he said as he climbed up onto the wagon, hesitated to get his tail out from under him while surreptitiously taking the reins from Clover, then sitting down with his tail tucked around his leg, invisible because of his illusion. "I'll send a letter through the guild when we get there, to keep you up to date."
"We'll be waiting. Travel safely, my friend," Virren told him.
"Always," he said with a nod, urging the horses to move out, waving to the apprentices looking down from the windows above, then waving to Bragga, Old Gray, and Steady as the brutish-looking man came out onto the street with the two Arcans.
The wagon rolled out of Atan and down the gentle hill leading down into the Green Valley, leaving the village behind. They were all quiet until the village was a good ten minutes behind them, then Clover chuckled and leaned back on the seat. "I hope it doesn't look strange for an Arcan to be riding up here."
"It's common enough around these parts. I'm not sure how they'll see it in Avannar, though." He glanced over at Clover. "Did you all enjoy your stay at Virren's?"
"He was very nice to us," Tweak said. "He's a very nice human, isn't he?"
"He's one of the best humans," Clover said with a smile back at him. "I'm glad Old Gray is still just as vigorous as usual."
"I didn't need to hear that," Kyven told her.
"He's a coyote, my friend. I don't pass up that kind of chance."
"If I end up caring for your baby, you're paying me rent," he warned.
She laughed. "I'm not pregnant," she assured him. "But it's worth the risk to enjoy the joining."
"And here I thought you were a sensible woman, Clover," he teased.
"Will you have to stay looking like that from now on, Kyven?" Tweak asked.
Kyven nodded. "Until well after dark, and it's Master Kyven or just Master out here in the human world, Tweak. Don't forget that. This is what I trained all winter to do," he added.
"You're doing it very well," Clover said with an approving nod, scrutinizing his illusion. "Did anyone suspect?"
"Not that I noticed," he answered. "I was very careful. It gives me reason to hope, though. If I could fool them, then I think I can fool anyone in Avannar."
"That's a possibility."
"Now, let's discuss you molesting poor Old Gray," Kyven told her. "I thought you were my girlfriend, Clover."
Clover laughed delightedly, reaching over and patting him on the leg. "But Arcans share, Kyven," she grinned wolfishly.
"I've got something you can share," Kyven grunted at her, which made her explode into laughter.
It was a slow and deceptively easy journey from Atan to Avannar, though that was only how it appeared.
Kyven didn't rush the wagon despite his hurry to get there, because he didn't want to spend any night in a village or an inn, and he wasn't all that good of a wagon driver so he didn't want to hurry. He kept the wagon moving at odd hours, going slow or fast to make sure that he didn't make any inns, and he especially wanted to avoid dawdling in Chardon. He made sure to pass through that small village in the early morning, riding past a brand new timber building where the Stand Off Inn once stood, a new inn whose signed named it as the Smoky Inn. They bedded down under the wagon each night as he carefully guided his wagon so he was left in the wilderness at sunset, and thus had an excuse to camp for the night. They camped well off the road each night, and he maintained his illusion until he was literally under the blankets of his bedroll.
There were plenty of travelers on the Avannar road, going in both directions, but none of them so much as blinked at Kyven or his unusual party. He had three Arcans in the back of his open bed wagon and a fourth sitting beside him in the seat, quite a few Arcans for a solitary wagon driver, but none of the travelers, merchants, or wagon trains who stopped him to ask about the condition of the road the way he came said much about it. His illusion fooled them utterly, for it was seamless and perfect, absolutely indistinguishable from the way he looked as a human. The first real test of his disguise came three days after leaving Atan, when a small patrol of four Loreguard were escorting a robed Loremaster, and they stopped Kyven in the road one misty morning as the skies threatened to pour down on them. "Hold a moment, citizen," one of the Loreguard called, and Kyven reined in his horses as the Arcans in the wagon behind him fell silent and nervously still. "Can you tell us how far it is to Chardon from here?"
"Oh, about a day's wagon ride, so about half a day on horseback," Kyven answered. "Given I'm not in a hurry and you might be."
The soldier chuckled.
"Anything unusual on the road ahead of us, citizen?" the small, wiry Loremaster asked.
"Not that I can think of," Kyven answered, scratching his cheek. "Anything I need to know about going towards Avannar?"
"The road's a little muddy once you get past the next village, and we left Avannar just this morning, so you should get there either tonight or early tomorrow," the Loremaster answered, then he seemed to look into the wagon. "That's quite a few Arcans for a wagoneer," he noted.
"I'm not a wagoneer, sir, I'm moving," he answered. "From Atan to Avannar. What you see in this wagon is literally everything I own. I'm a crystalcutter."
"Ah. Well, there's plenty of shops in Avannar that will hire you, journeyman," the Loremaster told him.
"I'm an Artisan, sir," he corrected politely. "I'll be setting up a shop of my own once I find a suitable building."
The small man chuckled. "Well, you'll have lots of competition," he smiled.
"I don't mind competition, sir, they keep me on my toes and my work consistent," he said, which made the Loremaster laugh.
"How far will we have to go to come to a stream where I can refill my skin?" one of the other soldiers asked him.
"We forded a stream just a couple of minars back," Kyven answered. "So not far at all."
"Well, we'll let you get back to your trip, and we need to get on our way as well, so good journey to you, Artisan," the Loremaster said.
"Good journey," Kyven mirrored, and the mounted group rode past the wagon and down the road without another word.
"Very nice," Clover murmured under her breath. "They never suspected a thing."
"I'm glad of that," Kyven chuckled as he urged the horses to start moving again.
The Loremaster was actually very accurate in his distance, and correctly predicted Kyven's arrival in Avannar, as they traveled around and through the many horse ranches west of the city that lined the Atan Road, ranches for which Avannar was famous for the quality of the horses raised there. The distant lights of the city came into view as they crested a hill that evening, the city bisected by the mighty Podac River. Kyven halted the wagon, and his apprentices stood up and looked over the wagon seat when he pointed. "Avannar," he announced.
"Now you must be on your best behavior, and your most guarded," Clover told them. "Remember, you are slaves. Act like it," she told them, looking right at Lightfoot, who nearly smiled in reply. "Remain silent, children. Never speak in public, that is the safest way to go about it. Let them believe you are just dumb Arcans.
"Actually, we may not make it," Kyven noted. "They'll be closing the gates soon, we may not get there. If that happens, we'll be spending the night under the wagon tonight."
"Still, we're in enemy territory now," Clover said. "It is time to put into practice everything we have told you, my young ones. It is time to begin playing the game."
Kyven was accurate with his prediction, for the gates were closed when they arrived. Instead of seeking out an inn in the village just a minar from the city gate, Kyven instead unhitched his horses just a short distance from the city gate, just outside the range of visibility of their alchemical lights, and enjoyed a cold dinner of bread and cheese, food a human would eat, and eaten with his back to the city walls so they couldn't see anything that might jeopardize his illusion. The apprentices were a little nervous, and Tweak fidgeted a lot while Patches stayed glued to Clover's side. "What now?" Tweak whispered.
"Tomorrow we go to the guild," Kyven whispered back. "They'll keep my wagon for me so I don't have to worry about losing all my things, and then I'll take the list they give me and go look at buildings."
"What about us?"
"You'll stay with the wagon. I should put you in the kennel, but I don't think I'm going to do that. I don't have control over what they do in there, and I won't risk any of you to some campy kennel keeper who thinks you're cute and my collar is too easy to cut off."
"A k-k-kennel?" Patches gasped.
"I'm not putting you in a kennel," Kyven told her calmly. "It's not unusual for Arcans to be left to their own, if they're obedient enough. And I think I can depend on you to behave yourselves," he said, his illusory human face giving that sly smile he practiced in a mirror for days. Every conceivable expression had been practiced until he could create them quickly and perfectly.
"You're certain that it won't raise any curiosity that you buy your building in cash?" Clover asked.
"Not if anyone asks around, and they will," Kyven answered her. "Our shop is very rich, Clover, and it's well known to the guild. We have a small fortune stored in the strongroom, and another small fortune deposited in the bank. I could afford to buy a shop outright on the shop's assets, easily. The only thing that might get attention is the crystal I'll be changing, because you can't seem to make one with flaws in it," he said, giving her an accusing smile.
"It's a question of style. Sloppy work can form bad habits," she said airily.
"Consider it an artistic challenge to make one that looks more natural," he teased.
"Kyven, you're asking me to make something look natural that is itself unnatural. Isn't that asking a bit much?"
"I need to get you away from Tweak, he's corrupting you," Kyven grunted, which made Clover giggle. "I'm going to bed. I suggest you stay very close to the wagon."
They entered Avannar as soon as the Loreguard, who acted as the city's watch, opened the gates. Tweak and Patches huddled in the wagon, the boy's bravado fading almost the instant they were inside the city to reveal the scared little boy hiding underneath, who just acted silly to conceal his fear. There were people about even this early, shopmasters sleepily making their way to their places of business to start another day. Some of them had Arcans or men or women with them, some walked alone. Kyven walked his team of horses slowly through Old Avannar, the narrow, crooked cobblestone streets holding the old stone buildings of the original Avannar. The horses' hooves echoed off the walls of the old buildings, made of dark stone and some of them weather-beaten, but as they moved closer and closer to the river, there was more traffic. Other wagons started to come out of stables and yards, carriages, even one of those dreadfully expensive crystal-driven horseless carriages Kyven had heard about, a frightening construction of brass, iron, leather, and padded wooden wheels. It probably cost as much as a whole block of buildings in Avannar, and it could only carry two people, the driver and a passenger. It was a device that served no other purpose but to show off the wealth of its owner, for it was neither practical nor functional.
They reached the wide mouth of Beggar's Bridge, and Kyven urged his two horses onto the stone construction, even as a pod of rag-wearing beggars eyed the wagon and the people inside it, too wary to advance; the beggars had learned long ago that an irate wagon driver could easily yank a beggar under the wagon and run him over, so they tended to focus their begging efforts to those who were on foot. Besides, this wagon had Arcans in the back, so they couldn't even try to sneak up behind it and filch anything out of the back while the driver's eyes were facing forward. A few of them may have thought about it, but the chilling amber stare from Lightfoot probably leeched that little bit of courage out of them.
"Where are we going?" Patches whispered from under the wagon seat.
"All the guilds of the different crafts have their headquarters in New Avannar," he whispered back. "Look at the river, Patches. I've always marveled at how they could build a bridge so long."
Patches and Tweak did so, rising up enough to look. The bridge was wide, its underside made up of arches spanning between stone columns that sank down into the water, spanning the nearly quarter a minar between the two banks. Here, the Podac River was nearly as wide as the mighty Deep River to the west, and from what Kyven remembered, it got wider and wider as one went towards the sea, eventually opening to become a branch of the massive bay into which the river drained. The bridge rose gently towards its midway point, then lowered gently back towards the far shore. Architects and stonemasons from all over Noraam came to Avannar to study the engineering wonder that was Beggar's Bridge, for it was the longest bridge of its kind in Noraam, its pilings going hundreds of rods down through the river water and into the bed beneath. Built by Arcan slaves and with the assistance of alchemical tools, specifically one that parted the water around where the pilings were placed so the workers could literally build it from the bed of the river upward, the bridge was a testament to what could be done when alchemy assisted human ingenuity.
They came off the bridge and entered New Avannar, a place of different buildings made of different things spaced apart from each other enough to give this section of the city an open feeling, combined with its wide avenues and patches of grassy parks here and there. There were trees growing among the buildings here, making New Avannar a much more peaceful, pleasant place… but only if one could afford to live here. This was the section of town where the rich lived, and the Loreguard mounted on horses as they patrolled gave anyone that didn't look to belong in New Avannar a hard, long look. Two patrols stared at Kyven's wagon as they passed, and one patrol stopped them to demand where they were going. They backed off when he told them they were going to the Crystalcutters' Guild's headquarters, even offered to give them directions. He refused them, naturally, for he knew where the guild was.
They reached the guild just as they opened their doors for the day's business. It was a large building not far from the river, in the Guild Quarter, a place where many guilds had their headquarters. Each guild tried to outdo the others with the opulence and grandness of their headquarters building, so the place resembled some kind of crazy avenue where the gods might dwell. Marble-faced buildings with fluted towers and spires jockeyed with one another to be the most grand and impressive, all of them enclosing immaculately maintained gardens and grounds within ornate wrought-iron fences. Even Kyven's own guild was victim to the silly game, housed in a large building sheathed in marble, with a circle out front paved in crushed white stone that surrounded a fountain of a delicate nude female form holding a huge mana crystal, a crystal the size of a watermelon… but it was only a milk crystal, and therefore only good for being put in such a display. Although, its size did give it a certain value, he supposed. There weren't many crystals that big in the world, even if they were milk crystals.
A couple of grooms hurried out from a shelter by the impressive steps up to the building. Kyven halted the horses and set the brake, then stood up. "I'm going to leave my Arcans with the wagon," he told the grooms as they came to take the wagon. "Just don't take it far, I don't think I'll be that long."
"We'll park it right over there, sir," the taller groom said, pointing at a stable to the side of the building.
Kyven nodded and looked back at the others. "Stay with the wagon. No wandering. I'll be right back," he ordered, then he climbed down.
Patches looked genuinely frightened as the groom climbed up into the seat after Kyven got out and drove the wagon over to the side of the building, and the other returned to his shelter to await the next visitor. Kyven watched for a moment, but nodded when the groom got out and left the wagon without giving the Arcans within a second glance.
A greeter inside took his name, and once he told them his business there, he was directed across a large room filled with desks to a specific desk near a wall, not much different from any other of the others, with a alchemical lamp and sheaves of paper on it. It was occupied by a rather young-looking woman with dark red hair, and was perhaps a bit on the plump side. She was a little plain looking, not ugly but not pretty. "Kyven Steelhammer, it's good to meet you," she said, standing up and offering her hand. He was careful to shake it with enough force to be just a bit painful, so that pain registered over the feel of the fur around his fingers, then he sat down–carefully because of the tail nobody could see–at a guest chair beside her desk. "I'm the guild representative assigned to help you get set up here in Avannar. We have all your permits ready for you, Artisan," she told him, opening a file that was on her desk. "We've paid your city taxes for you as well, so you're ready to start business as soon as you're settled in."
"Thank you. Did they look at buildings as I asked?"
"Yes, I did, sir," she smiled. "There wasn't much to go on with the requirements they sent to us from the Atan office. I found two properties that filled all your requirements, and both aren't exactly that good. One is an old greengrocer near the south gate, the other one was built to be an alchemist's shop, a couple of blocks from Beggar's Bridge, but it's in poor repair. The previous owner died, and there was a fight between his sons over the property. The city took it for not paying their taxes."
"Do both of them have strongrooms?"
"The greengrocer building has an interior room that could be made into a strongroom. The alchemist's building has a strongroom." She tapped the parchment with a finger. "Each one has some good points and bad points. The main thing I think you should consider is location. The greengrocer is just three blocks from the south gate, on the Bridge Road, which is a very good location, but you'll have to do some renovations to make it work for you. The alchemist's building is two blocks from Beggar's Bridge on Chain Way, but it's in poor repair and it's not exactly in a location known for cutters. The greengrocer location is a larger building with access to a wide street, but the alchemist location, since it was built for a craftsman, may not require as much renovation, and comes with a strongroom already built. If neither of those suit you, I have some addresses written there of other buildings that were close to what you wanted, but didn't match up completely."
"I'll go look at each one, and a few of these other addresses you have written down if those two don't suit me. Where do I go to buy the building when I choose which one I want?"
"The Loremasters handle all those things here, sir," she told him. "They govern the city. You'd have to go to their building."
Kyven nodded, not betraying a flash of nervousness over that idea. But he'd have to go to that building eventually anyway, and it was best to find out right here, today, if he could penetrate their building without any of their alchemical devices detecting him or seeing through his illusion.
"I'll go take a look at them. Do you have a groom that can take me to them?"
"I can find a guide for you," she answered.
"I have some Arcans in my wagon, is it alright to leave them and my wagon here while I go look?"
"Certainly."
The guild provided. Kyven and a very young man, barely more the fifteen, rode out from the headquarters in a open cart driven by the young man. He wore the livery of the guild and was quiet, but the young man knew the city. First, they visited the alchemist's shop. It was a small structure built with the shop on the ground floor and an apartment on the second floor. It had four rooms on the first floor, a receiving room for customers, a forge, a storeroom, and a second open area where a dusty anvil stood on the floor. The strongroom was in the basement, sectioned off from the storage area by a very stout and sturdy door with rusty eyelets for the application of bars and locks. The apartment above was three rooms, dusty and filled with cobwebs, as well as a few streams of light from a roof in need of repair. The good part of the alchemist's shop was that it had a low balcony-like porch on the second floor built out onto the roof of one of the storerooms, which would be a very easy way for him to get in and out of the apartment without being seen or without the doors opening downstairs, and it was big enough to serve their needs. The bad part of it was its poor condition, which would require a lot of work just to get it to where he could do business, and he wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing to live so close to the Loremasters' headquarters. If they swept the city looking for him, they'd reach his shop quickly once they started.
The greengrocer building was in better repair, but it was clearly a building set up for selling food. It was a single large open room with a glass window flanking the door and a second large room behind it for storage. It too had an apartment over its shop, a two room shop. It also had a cellar, but it was all one large beamed area, for storing perishables. The main problems with the greengrocer was that it was too open. They'd be doing a lot of things that people outside couldn't see, and it would take some work to make the place sufficiently hidden enough to suit his tastes.
Neither of them was desirable. They'd take too much work to get ready, and he didn't have that much time.
"Alright, let's check some of these other addresses," Kyven told the guide. "Neither of those will do."
It took most of the morning until he found what he was looking for. It was a small, run-down little shop that the list only mentioned as an address. It had once been a rope maker's shop, empty for only a few weeks he'd learned from talking to the neighbors, a two story affair with an attic and a cellar. On the first floor, there were three rooms, a large workroom, a storeroom, and an office, as well as a very small receiving room for customers, with racks on the walls to hold examples of the craftsman's work. It had a larger door in the back of the workshop large enough to carry in bales and coils of hemp and other materials a rope maker would need, which opened into an alley just wide enough to allow a small wagon to go through it. The apartment over the shop was also a three room affair with a narrow stairway up to an attic, and there was a window in the back of that attic, built in a way that allowed one to climb out of it and stand on the roof of the squat two story building beside it, which was a laundry. It was buried deep in the southern reaches of Old Avannar, but was only two blocks from the city wall and five blocks from the city gate, not very far from the greengrocer building, just another shop in a line of shops along that block, on both sides. There was a laundry to the north and a chandler to the south, with a tavern past the chandler and a brothel past the laundry. There was also an alchemist's shop at the end of the street. It wasn't a poor neighborhood, instead filled with the working class, but that was actually what Kyven was looking for. It was a business district, and would allow him to submerge himself into the rest of the craftsmen in the area. And what was most important, the shop was close to the city wall, in case everything went to hell and they had to run. The only thing the shop had against it was a lack of a strongroom, but they could convert the cellar to serve in that regard. Kyven wouldn't need nearly as much storage space as a rope maker would, since he didn't need raw materials in that much bulk to practice his craft.
"Perfect," Kyven said to the young guide as they closed the door, since Kyven had sort of broken in to inspect the building.
Kyven made no outward signs at all of his fear and nervousness as they rode the guild's little cart to the main building of the Loremasters. Kyven had no idea if they could detect him or if they'd see through his illusion, but it had to be tested. He had to know now if he could get into that building without detection, before he tried it in earnest. The fox had made him practice illusion for days, weeks, months, and he'd dutifully reached a level of competency that made the illusion of him utterly convincing, even changing expressions based on his moods… but those were active changes. Kyven had to make them. He was glad of that, since his serene-looking illusory face concealed the tension and worry that existed just underneath it.
It all came to a head when they reached the bridge, with its four Loreguard stationed there, and that sign: Final Warning! No Arcans Permitted. Any Arcan Found On The Island Will Be Terminated With No Reparation To The Owner. That sign symbolized everything that was about to happen, and all the problems and issues that Kyven, the Arcans, and Haven had with the Loremasters. The Arcans didn't want war or strife or hatred, they just wanted their people freed. But the Loremasters, clinging to their vision of the past, would not let the Arcans go, both because they did all the work and because they would never admit that Arcans could be equal to humans in any way or manner.
Before Kyven was really ready, the guide trotted the horse and cart up onto the bridge. Kyven tensed up, but the Loreguard did not stop him, there were no sirens or alarms, nothing at all. He sighed audibly and leaned back in the seat as much as he could without pinching his invisible tail, and regained a measure of composure. He moved with more and more confidence as the cart passed through the meticulously maintained gardens outside their glass-sheathed main building, where citizens moved in and out with armed Loreguard, carrying muskets, swords, and shockrods, stood in protection. The guide stopped the cart near the stairs leading to the main doors. "I'll wait over there for you, sir," the guide said, pointing to a graveled area where several carts and carriages were parked.
"Alright, I hope this won't take long," he said with building confidence, climbing down from the cart.
It looked exactly as he remembered from before, when the fox had him come here so he could understand that these people were his enemies. He did stop to admire that glass ceiling one more time, shining early summer sunlight down onto the marble-tiled floor, with its many potted trees lining the walls. Again, there were no sirens, no alarms, no clusters of armed men rushing out of doors to kill him. Either they couldn't detect him, or they didn't bother trying out here in these public areas.
He approached one of the Loreguard standing guard against the wall. "Excuse me, I have a little problem. Where do I go to talk to someone about a piece of property?" he asked. "My guild gave me a list of properties to check out for my shop, but they didn't tell me who owns the one I'm looking at. The two they suggested they said the city owned, but they never mentioned the others on this list."
"Second door from the left, look for a large double door on the right side of the passageway, the first door you see on that side. Can you read, citizen?"
"Yes, I'm an artisan in good standing with my guild," he answered.
"Very well. The door is marked Department of City Tax. They handle the deeds for property in that office. They can tell you who owns a piece of property, and if it's for sale, they can help you start the process of buying it by pointing you to who owns it."
"That's exactly what I need. Thank you, sir."
"Good day to you, artisan."
The office to which he was directed was a cavernous, almost-library like chamber filled with shelf after shelf that held books, tomes, volumes, folders, and boxes filled with documents and ledgers. It was separated from the door by a counter, and Kyven wasn't the only citizen there. Surcoated Loremasters were helping other city dwellers along the counter, and a short, balding man of middle years, wearing a plain gray smock covered over with a Loremaster surcoat, came over when he came to the counter. "What can I do for you today, citizen?" he asked in a mechanical manner, as if it was a greeting he used all day every day.
Feeling totally confident now that they had no idea who he was, that they couldn't penetrate his disguise, Kyven took out the slip of paper with addresses and got down to business. He explained what he wanted, and how he wasn't sure who exactly owned the property he was interested in buying, that it was just one address on a list of possible shop sites compiled for him as a service by his guild. The little balding man left and returned moments later with a large ledger, and looked up the property by its address and description. "Ah yes, that one's owned privately, and the taxes are currently paid up to date," he said. "It's listed as being owned by Shario Brelann. Hmm, that's a Flauren name," he mused. "Anyway, I can look this fellow up for you and you can find him and discuss this piece of property."
"I'd appreciate it, sir."
Kyven left the island of the Loremasters barely able to contain his elation. It seemed to his guide that it was over getting the building, but it was actually because he now knew that he could get into the Loremaster's headquarters without detection. Whether he could get into secret areas was another question, but for now, he knew that he could get into the building itself without being found out. That was the open door he needed to infiltrate their headquarters and learn their secrets.
It took them about a half an hour to get him a name and potential address for the owner of the vacated shop, and about another hour to track down this mysterious Flauren. He was something of a shady character, one of the mid-level criminal players in the city, a dark-skinned Flauren who conducted court of sorts in a seedy dive called the Five Rings, in the center of Old Avannar. Kyven could see that he was a criminal, and had probably attained that property in some kind of cheat or blackmail scheme against the last owner. Kyven noted the very burly men who took careful note of his entrance into the tavern, and the tired-looking female canine Arcan wearing a heavy collar milling between the tables. Kyven had to steel himself against that; there was nothing he could do for her, and to try would ruin everything and get thousands killed.
There were not happy endings for everyone.
The moustached Flauren was lounging indolently in a chair near the bar when the barkeeper pointed the man out to Kyven, and he walked calmly up to the table. "Are you Shario Brelann?" Kyven asked in a casual voice."
"I might be," he answered in a thick Flauren accent. "If it's worth my while."
"The city records say you own a building I'm interested in buying," Kyven began. "A little rope maker's shop on Moon Street."
"Ah, I think I might own that," he said, taking his leg off the arm of his chair and sitting partially erect. "But I'm not interested in selling."
"Why not? It's just sitting empty."
"Because I never sell anything I buy," he said, looking Kyven up and down. "Unless what I get for it is twice what it's worth."
"Worth is a relative concept," Kyven said, looking down at the man. "The building suits my needs very well, so it was worth the effort of tracking down its owner to me. But it's nothing but a tax liability for you since it stands empty and earns you no profit, so its worth to you is considerably less. So, what is it worth to you, Master Brelann?"
"Oh, I could see to part with it for, say, two hundred thousand chits," he said with a little smirk.
"I could buy every other building on the block for that much money, and probably half the next block over."
"But that is what it is worth to me, Freeman," the Flauren grinned, which made his cronies laugh.
"I'll offer you one thousand, in cash," Kyven countered. "Which is more than the building is worth."
"A thousand, for property in Avannar?" the Flauren said, then he laughed. "You couldn't buy a grave plot for a thousand chits."
"You make a ridiculous offer, I make a ridiculous offer. We'll keep making ridiculous offers until we find something in the middle that we can both live with," Kyven told him.
"Let's make it clear, since you're obviously too simple to see sarcasm. The building is not for sale. I have plans for that building."
"You're sure about that?"
"Quite."
"And you won't change your mind?"
"Why should I?"
"Oh, say, because you won't get much use out of it after I burn it to the ground. Think that might change your mind?"
The Flauren gave him a wild look as his sycophants jumped to their feet, then the man laughed. "Pull up a seat, friend, and let's discuss this building of yours."
Kyven declined an offer of ale as the street criminal told him about the building. "I was planning on opening a whorehouse there," he explained. "It's a good location."
"There's one just two doors down, though."
"Ah, but competition can be profitable, if it's done correctly, since I own that whorehouse as well," he grinned. "And I run some… other businesses, that could make use of the building's location for certain things. But, since you've proved you're serious about buying my building, let's see if you can find a price that will make me consider giving it to you."
Money really wasn't an object to Kyven, since Clover could make crystals, but he also couldn't leave any memory in the man's mind that he was so willing to spend so much money for a building in which he intended to open a shop to make a living. Kyven knew how to negotiate, but this Flauren was a fast talker and a smooth operator, so it kept Kyven on his toes.
After nearly an hour of haggling, they reached an agreement. Kyven would buy the building for twenty thousand chits, in cash, payable immediately. Further, Shario demanded that Kyven make his services available to cut certain crystals that he would prefer the government not know he has from time to time, for a reasonable fee on his side, like black crystals that were heavily regulated by the Loremasters. This Kyven agreed to do, after a moment of furious thought, since Kyven appeared to them to be a lawful and honorable man.
After they agreed to a final price, they both stood up. "Where do you want me to bring your payment?"
"I'll have to go get the deed," Shario told him. "Meet me at the Bank of Avannar in an hour. We can complete the transaction there, and the bank's notary can witness the passing of the deed."
"That's fine with me. It was good doing business with you."
Shario laughed. "How did you know to say that to get me talking?"
"I may just be a cutter, but I was trained by my master in how to do business," Kyven said simply. "And Master Holm explained that sometimes you have to say something outrageous to get a Flauren started."
Shario laughed. "Indeed, indeed. I'll see you in an hour then, Master Kyven. I believe we both found a transaction to equalize the worth of your new shop for both of us."
"We did," Kyven nodded, then he turned and left the tavern.
"This place is a wreck!" Tweak complained as the Arcans got their first look at their new home for a while, as they padded in through the back door from the alley.
"It has potential," Kyven told him as he went by. It had been remarkably quick to get everything done once he had an agreement with the Flauren, and for that at least, Kyven couldn't fault the Loremasters' system for administering the city. Kyven dipped into shop funds to pay Shario his price, since they easily had twenty thousand in their account, and it was the same bank here as it was in Atan. Kyven would replace that money within a week, but it also ensured that he didn't have to move any cash and be open to having it stolen.
Shario was a bit surprised to see Kyven simply talk to the bank manager about the money. Shario thought he was some wandering journeyman, not an artisan.
After buying the deed from Shario, all he had to do was take it back to the Loremasters headquarters and show it to the people there in the tax department. They logged him as the new owner of the property in their books, made him pay a tax for the sale, and that was it. It was now his building. He went back to the guild for the others and the wagon, and now they were here. "We'll set up the main workshop right here, in this room," he said. "There's no kitchen, but we can convert the storeroom to a kitchen easily enough if we buy an alchemical stove for it and install some shelves and counters. That'll save us some room upstairs. I'm not much of a carpenter, but we can work it out. Now let's get the wagon unloaded so I can go sell it and the horses."
Patches looked a little annoyed as they unloaded the wagon, stacking boxes and bags in the main room, looking critically at the building's main room, with its dust-choked tables and cobwebbed corners. "It's going to take me a week to get this place clean," she said, making a face as she wiped her finger through a thick coat of dust from a table near the office door.
"You'll have plenty of help, child," Clover told her as she and Kyven set down a large wooden crate holding the milk crystals and other valuable items. It was all boxed together to make it hard to steal it without taking it all, and it was too big to do easily. "Now come, we need to get this done before it gets too late. I, for one, am hungry."
It took them a little bit of time to finish unloading the wagon, and Kyven left them to start sorting things out as he took the wagon down to a stable and sold it and the horses. He stopped by a butcher and picked up a side of beef for them to eat on his way back, and was accosted outside the shop by a young looking woman wearing an outrageous red velvet dress. The woman had sensual eyes, blond hair that was a little tangled and unkempt, and walked seductively. "Care for a bit of a frolic, friend?" she asked, glancing back at the brothel. "We can have a lot of fun just inside."
"No thanks, I'm a bit busy," he told her, stepping past. "I just bought that empty rope maker's shop and I have a lot of work to do to settle in."
"Really? Shario finally sold it?"
"He drives a hard bargain, but I got it away from him," Kyven told her.
"Well, we give discounts for our neighbors," she said invitingly.
"I'll keep that in mind," he said calmly as he went past her.
Kyven went back past the shop, around to the alley, and came in through the door to find Clover directing the other three as they started stacking things on tables, in the storeroom, getting it out from underfoot but not setting anything up until they had a chance to clean. He closed the door and barred it, then held up the side of beef. "Dinner," he called.
"Thank the spirits," Clover said excitedly. "Let's clear a clean space somewhere and eat!"
"What are we going to do now, Kyven?" Tweak asked him as Clover all but mugged him for the heavy slab of meat, which was enough to feed all three of them.
"Well, we're going to be doing a lot of cleaning for the next few days, then I'll start setting things up," he said, looking around. "Once the shop is fully up and running, then I'll start doing the other work. Clover, you know that one of you will have to go out in the city."
"I wasn't about to let any of the young ones do something like that," she smiled. "I've been to Avannar before, I can get around without getting in trouble."
"Good. I just won't be able to do everything myself. I'm going to be very busy for the next few weeks," he noted, then chuckled as Patches berated Tweak for putting a canvas bag down and raising a cloud of dust. Patches had been a house servant, and all the dirt and dust and webs in the old building seemed to awaken some strange need in her to restore order to the chaos. "I have to get the shop up and running, and once it's stable, I can start working on our other little task."
"That can wait for later. For now, I am starving! Let's eat!"