Shadow Walker

by James 'Fel' Galloway

Chapter 3

He'd never done anything quite like this before, and that made it both frightening and oddly exciting.

It was a dark, cloudy, moonless night, so dark that if it weren't for the street lights of Avannar, Kyven and Lightfoot may have trouble seeing. As it was, though, the lights on the corners and halfway between each corner gave them just enough light for Lightfoot to see clearly, while Kyven was relying on his spirit sight in order to navigate.

They'd spent all day preparing for this. Kyven had reconnoitered the general's house that morning clandestinely under the pretense of going to the guild, and had seen that the man's house was more of a walled compound than a house, a walled-in property that held a fairly nice house and a small greenhouse for his wife, who was a passionate gardener well known for her roses and her greenhouse garden that produced vegetables and tomatoes all through the winter. The place not only held the general, his wife, his four children, and his two human servants and three Arcans, but it also held six Loreguard soldiers who guarded the officer and his home.

This would definitely be delving into the area of no happy endings. Both Kyven and Lightfoot understood that under absolutely no circumstances could anyone see Lightfoot and be allowed to live. If they linked Lightfoot to Kyven, then that would bring them right to his shop, since Veraad knew of her and he wasn't sure if Yoris or the Loremasters and employees of them with whom he often dealt had ever seen her. In this, he had to be absolutely ruthless, and he knew it. If the general's ten year old son saw Lightfoot, he had to die. Kyven didn't hold much of a candle to slaughtering a child, but there was no room for error in this dangerous game he was playing. Anyone who saw Lightfoot could unveil Kyven's secret to the Loremasters, and that could not be permitted, no matter what he had to do. Kyven intended to partially assuage that grim possibility by covering Lightfoot in an illusion and leaving himself uncovered. They already knew what he looked like, so they'd gain nothing by someone seeing him again. So, his idea was to conceal Lightfoot's identity, making her appear to be an ultra-rare kind of Arcan Clover described to him called an ocelot, some kind of small spotted cat native to the continent south of Noraam, which was called Mecana. So, instead of Lightfoot appearing as her white-gray furred and bone-white haired self, she appeared as a tan cat with both spots and bands in her fur, a short, thick muzzle, long, dark hair, and penetrating yellow eyes. To reinforce it, the illusion was also about half a rod taller than the petite cat, but he kept her a cat so one wouldn't doubt the illusion if she used her claws.

Clover had dealt with the Masked cell in Avannar to somehow dig up information of the general's home, a general kind of layout that one might expect a servant to know. How the cell got that information was beyond him, and he hoped that it didn't give them away if someone had knowledge that they had that information and then the general's house is attacked. But thanks to them, the two of them had a rough idea of the layout of the general's house. They knew where the general's family lived on the second floor, they knew that the wife spent all her time out in the garden from sunrise to sunset, tending both her food plants and her rare or experimental plants she cultivated, and they knew that the three Arcans all lived in a small shack behind the greenhouse when not actually working, primarily helping the wife with her gardening. They didn't have information on where the guards would be stationed or what kind of alchemical defenses the house may possess, but Kyven would be able to ferret them out with spirit sight once they got there. They knew that only the guards would be awake at this time of the night, halfway between midnight and sunrise, and if they moved carefully enough, they could eliminate the guards without rousing the house, and therefore have plenty of time to chat with General Bren Fourpost, commander of the two Free Territories regiments of the Loreguard Expeditionary Forces, the official name of the segment of the Loreguard that were common infantry.

Thus far, it had been relatively easy going, mainly because the darkness made the shadows away from the lamps deep and protective. By manipulating those shadows, Kyven had gotten them through most of old town unseen, and all the way to Beggar's Bridge, where their first major obstacle had to be conquered . . . the checkpoint that literally blockaded the bridge. Lightfoot's solution that problem was both simple and effective, and Kyven had to agree when she led him away from the bridge and to a small quay that extended out into the river about a block from the bridge. There, they stole a small rowboat, and crossed the river in the darkness using their boat. There were lights on the bridge, but it was so dark that the lights didn't even illuminate the water underneath the bridge, let alone a rowboat a block away. Kyven had never rowed a boat before, but he managed to figure out that he had to angle the boat partially upstream to keep the current from pushing them towards the main docks southeast of their position. By using magic to silence the oars, but not the entire boat, they moved with confident stealth across the river.

Once on the north bank, however, things got more serious. The streets of New Avannar were wide and spacious, and there were many more streetlamps, which made it much harder to move around unseen. The checkpoints and roving patrols made it much harder on top of that, but Lightfoot was again prepared. New Avannar had a feature not seen in Old Avannar, and that was alleyways between the blocks that ran from east to west. The houses of the new city were large and spacious, and most had carriage houses or even small one horse stables behind the houses. This was an aesthetic affectation, leaving the fronts of the houses and yards to each side uncluttered by such things. Putting them in the backs of the organized blocks created narrow alleyways between the houses facing the streets to the north and south where families actually entered and left their homes, making the front door, porch, walkway and gate at the edge of their lawn more ceremonial or formal than functional. The Loreguard naturally knew about the alleys and kept a pair of guards at the intersection of every alley and street, but that meant very little to them, because there was plenty of open space between the alleys and the houses. They would slip into the yard of the house at the end of the alley, get halfway between the alley and the street intersection further down, then slip across the street and over the fence on the other side under the safety of an illusion that made both of them appear to be a single mouse.

It was a major strain for Kyven to conceal both of them under such a tiny illusion, because in actuality such small illusions were much harder to maintain than large ones when he had so much area to render invisible by means of the fact that to the illusion, that space was not filled. But it did just that, it made them appear to be a mouse, and a mouse was a very hard thing to see from a quarter block away on a dark night.

It took them about an hour to get to the walled compound that was the general's house. It was on the far side of the block from the guild of chandlers, and just two blocks away was the guild of crystal brokers . . . and that was another curious thing they'd discovered that day. It seemed that the Loremasters had shut down the brokers, over what the crystalcutter's guild said was a matter of formal inquiry, and the brokers would all be open either tomorrow or the day after. Kyven suspected wasn't entirely sure what they were up to, because he doubted that they'd gotten that perfect crystal from Avannar, and it was something he'd have to investigate later, when he had the time.

They paused just across the street from the compound as Kyven both melted into the shadows and covered Lightfoot in the illusion, then he scanned the compound with spirit sight, taking stock of the place. He saw several magical blooms inside that marked alchemical devices, and saw twelve guards moving around. Several humans were up on the second floor of the nice house, reclining; they were asleep or laying down. The main gate and the walls of the compound glowed with faint magical radiance that he had to peer through to see those behind it, telling him that the wall and gate were alchemical in nature, but he couldn't tell what function they possessed.

"Well?" Lightfoot whispered.

"Twelve guards. Six static, six roaming. The walls are alchemical. Several alchemical devices inside the house, but they look like appliances, not weapons or alarms. There are several sleeping figures on the second floor with a single human standing watch near where I think the stairs are," he reported in a bare whisper as he strained his eyes to look towards the greenhouse. "Three forms sleeping behind the greenhouse. The man's Arcans."

"Where?"

He knew Lightfoot enough to understand what she didn't say along with what she said. "We should jump the wall behind the greenhouse," he whispered back. "We can eliminate two static guard positions from behind and then ambush the others as we move forward. Remember, the further you get from me, the harder it is for me to hold that disguise, so try to stay close. Ready?"

She nodded. "Let's go."

Getting past the wall wasn't that hard for two Arcans as physically fit as Kyven and Lightfoot. Simply put, they jumped the eight rod tall wall, clearing it completely and without touching it. They landed soundlessly on the lush, thick, well-maintained grass of the lawn between the wall and the shack holding the Arcans, then both of them dropped down to all fours and slinked forward on utterly silent hands and feet. They ghosted past the shack and the greenhouse, and came up to a very ornate pair of double glass-paned doors that led from a lavishly appointed patio into what looked like a musical conservatory within the house, holding a harpsichord, a harp, and a Eusican plava, a series of small metal bars of escalating sizes lined up on a horizontal stand that were struck by small wooden mallets to produce chiming notes. Kyven pointed to the far door, then held up two fingers to denote that that was a guard position. Lightfoot nodded as she slinked up to the door, rose up onto her feet, and produce a couple of small probes from her belt. Those were her lockpicks, and she went to work on the door, her little probes making very faint sounds as she worked them into the lock. Her clawed fingers moved with delicate precision, then she twisted her tools in the lock, which made it turn, unlocking the door. Kyven nodded as she slowly put her hand on the door, and Kyven channeled silence on the door to prevent it from making any noise as it was opened.

Kyven entered first, padding in on all fours, advancing on the door leading from the room, which glowed with a very faint magical aura. The door itself was alchemical in nature, and it was his turn to do his work. He put his hand on the door and opened himself to the crystal hidden within the wood-paneled door, which was framed with bronze and tin that formed the alchemical device. He siphoned off the power of the crystal, draining it into himself, and holding that power inside himself to use to power magical spells if needs be, spells that would not tire him, would instead use up the energy he absorbed. He nodded to the cat and rose up onto his feet as he channeled silence over the door, then pointed to each side of the frame deliberately, warning her where the guards were. She nodded, then held up her hand, showing all five fingers. She then tucked one in, and he realized she was counting down.

He followed her count. When she hit zero, he opened the door slowly, peering through the crack to see the side and partial back of a Loreguard, where he stood beside the door that was at the end of a passageway. Lightfoot slinked under him as he creaked the door open wider, then she lunged with amazing speed even as he lunged forward and turned to get the other guard. Lightfoot drove her claws into the man's throat, and all he made was a gurgling sound as he collapsed under her lighter weight as she all but pounced on him. The other man started in surprise, but that moment of surprise prevented him from calling out or raising an alarm as Kyven's clawed hand closed around his throat. Kyven was a Shaman, so he had been physically conditioned for muscular power, and that power crushed the man's throat. He pushed the man down and pinned his legs to the floor as his face turned blue and he squirmed and convulsed out the last of his life, and then his body went limp and a thin, reedy sigh managed to escape his crushed windpipe.

The attack took less than twenty seconds, and the two guards died silently. Kyven and Lightfoot dragged the bodies into the conservatory, and Kyven stripped his victim of his shockrod, pistol, and his alchemical talking device, which was how the guards communicated with one another. Lightfoot took the other guard's shockrod and pistol as well, attaching their holsters to her belt to join the shockrod and pistol she commonly carried.

"You're amassing quite a collection there, Lightfoot," he whispered as he pulled a cover from the back of a chair, then advanced to the door and wiped up the blood from Lightfoot's kill that was smeared on the floor. Two missing guards wouldn't raise an instant alarm as would a bloodstain where the guards were supposed to be.

"One pistol, one shot. Two pistols, two shots," she murmured. "Ready?"

"Let's go."

With Kyven guiding them, the two of them systematically cleared the first floor of guards. They killed them all, by either ambushing the static positions or laying in wait for the roamers. They moved both quietly and quickly, killing guards before the roamers realized that men were missing, then killing those roamers when they moved towards where the static guards should have been. Kyven did not use Shaman magic to kill, relying instead on his claws and his Arcan strength. The entire process took only about ten minutes, when they killed the two guards stationed at the base of the stairs, whom they had saved for last just in case someone upstairs got up and happened to glance down the stairs as they moved about. There were two guards left, upstairs, as was the general and his sleeping family.

"What's going on down there?" a voice came over his talker, even as they heard the chimes of a clock upstairs announce that it was three in the morning. "Price, you missed the check-in . . . and the rest of you jesters don't have to wait for him to go first!"

"Quickly," Lightfoot said in a bare whisper.

He knew she was right. When nobody answered that guard, he was going to sound an alarm. They had to get to him and kill him before he did something that brought every patrol of Loreguard in the New City down on the house. The two of them ghosted up the stairs on all fours, until they heard both the voice making the call and the call through their talkers. "Where are--who's coming up the stairs without announcing?" he barked. Kyven's eyes ferreted out the man in a room near the stair landing, which hid the stairwell from the room by a wall. He pointed in that direction as they came up onto the carpet of the second floor, then slinked silently up to the door holding the last two guards. They were sitting at a table, both facing the door. He held up two fingers to Lightfoot. "Facing the door."

"Yours," she breathed, slinking back a step.

He knew what she meant, and knew she was right. Centering himself, bringing the spell clearly to mind, he rose up on his legs and took hold of the doorknob, started to very slowly turn it so he could push the door open suddenly . . . and found it locked.

"Locked," he whispered.

"Silence it," Lightfoot ordered as she replaced him in front of the door and withdrew her thieving tools from her belt. He did so, silencing the lock so she could pick it without the sound alerting those within, but those within were getting anxious. "Someone report in!" came the voice over the talker. One of them stood up, and the other reached for something at his waist, something Kyven couldn't see, but the way he was holding it hinted that it was a pistol. They were smart enough not to use alchemical weapons against a suspected Shaman. He looked closer, and realized that there was a darkness just in front of the man's hand, and he realized that there was a sliver of black crystal loaded into that pistol. That meant that it would kill whatever it hit instantly, even if it just barely grazed a finger.

That would make this tricky.

Lightfoot finished with the lock and sidestepped out of the way, and Kyven decided to just go for it. He silenced the entire door and pushed it open just enough to allow him to put his hand through, and give him a line of sight to both men. They were sitting at the table, and neither of them had noticed the door open because it made no sound. The one holding the pistol did look up as the door opened wide enough for Kyven to see him, and he reacted immediately and with surprising swiftness, raising his pistol at the opening door.

But he was too late. Kyven channeled a withering blast of cold from his hand, a cold that rampaged into the room and slammed into the two men. Both of the men, the pistol, the desk, the chairs, even the carpet under them, all rimed over with a bluish frost, and both men were literally frozen in mid-movement, the pistol-wielder frozen literally in the act of pulling the trigger.

"Close," Lightfoot breathed as she looked in.

"Take the shooter's pistol, it has a black crystal bullet," he whispered, looking at the door past the men, which was the door to the general's bedroom. The room they were in was a combination parlor and office of sorts, with a writing desk and shelves on one side, the chairs and tables placed deliberately in the middle of the room, and a pair of couches near a hearth on the other. "Ransack the desk and shelves, look for any official documents. I'll go pay a visit to the general. When you're done, stand in front of the door and wave until you get my attention, but don't come in. I don't want him to see you."

"Why?"

"Because I'm keeping him alive."

"Why?"

"To feed false information to the Loremasters," he said with a wolfish smile. "I'll load him up with some information that'll send the Loremasters running in the wrong direction, which'll help everyone else. When you signal me, be ready to run like hell. We have to make it look believable that he survived the attack on him."

She nodded simply, then advanced on the frozen man. Instead of trying to wrest the pistol out of the man's frozen hand, she simply broke the man's hand off at the wrist and started working on breaking the packing wad from the breech of the pistol to free the bullet behind it, using one of her little probes because she knew better than to touch that bullet with her bare hand.

The bedroom beyond was fitting of a high-ranking member of the military. It was richly appointed but not lavish, with elegant furniture of exceeding quality but also of practical use. Rich velvet curtains hung from the corners of the four-poster bed, curtains drawn to let air flow in the summer night, drawing in through an open window and circulated by a slow-turning fan on the ceiling, an alchemical device that circulated the warm summer air. The room was large and spacious, the furniture not detracting from that feeling of space. There were two figures in the bed, a middle-aged woman with a slightly plump figure and a grizzled, gray-haired man. General Bren Fourpost, commander of all Loreguard forces in the Free Territories.

A hand to the general's mouth snapped him awake in a heartbeat, and his eyes widened when he stared up into the glowing eyes of a Shaman. "Wake your wife and she dies," Kyven breathed in a very low whisper. "Get up."

The general moved with quiet and slow care, sliding out from under the covers and slowly gaining his feet, looking fearfully at Kyven while glancing towards his wife. Kyven channeled silence over the woman to keep her oblivious to the sounds of the room, then dragged the general to the padded chair in front of a vanity and pushed him into it. "I placed a spell over your wife so our talk won't disturb her. I've already ransacked your office out there, but now I want to see if what I read matches up with what you know. So, now, you and me are going to have a little chat, General," Kyven told him. "Your honesty ensures that when I leave here, your family is still alive. Every time you lie to me, you lose someone. When you run out of family to die in your place, it will be your turn with your next lie. I know you're a brave man, General, and would willingly sacrifice yourself for your family. But remember, you'll die last. The first to be killed will be your youngest son, then we'll just work our way up the ages until we get to you. So, you can die nobly for the Loremasters, but you'll take your entire family with you."

"I knew you Arcans were animals," he spat.

"We are what the humans made of us, General," Kyven said simply. "If you hate my barbarism, blame the humans who walk down the street wearing the skins and fur of my people as clothing, or force my people to fight each other to the death for their amusement. You hold no value for the lives of my people, so don't expect me to have much value for the lives of yours."

The general glared at him, but said nothing.

"Now, there's an awfully large force of Loreguard massing in Riyan. I'm mightily curious to know why they're there, and what they're going to be doing. Your Loremasters would have no earthly reason to spend the chits to raise an army of that size without having a purpose in mind for them. I believe that it might even be a breach of the treaties the Loremasters have with the kingdoms of Noraam."

"Why would a Shaman want to know that?" he hissed.

"Because I'm being well paid to be curious, General," he answered smoothly. "I think you know you won't live to see the sunrise, so I may as well be honest with you. Phion managed to lure me into a meeting with them, because they unearthed a cell of the Masked, and that cell summoned me. But instead of attacking me or killing me, they instead negotiated with me, human. They offered me a very lucrative deal to hire my services."

"Liar! No Shaman would work for humans!"

"When Phion promised to free a number of my people equal to the number of Arcans in slavery in Phion in return for my assistance, yes, I would work for humans, General," he said simply. "The spirits deemed it a fair bargain and agreed to allow me to make it. They already carried through on their side of our agreement, and so now I carry through with mine. They have been buying Arcans and freeing them . . . which is why the Arcan markets have gone dry. Phion has done a good job hiding the fact that they're buying all the Arcans, and I made sure their activities won't be discovered. The Phioni buy the Arcans, then let them go. I've seen documented evidence they're doing it, which was the signal to me that they have honored their word, and now I honor mine. I invaded the Loremaster building and destroyed the evidence the Loremasters were massing about Arcans being bought to hide Phion's involvement, and now that Phion is protected, I'm going about finding out what they're most interested to know. So, in return for my services, I have freed tens of thousands of my people, who I hope will stay away from humans and remain free for the rest of their lives."

The general's face turned pensive, and then stony. He saw a sliver of possibility in Kyven's deception. He didn't believe it completely, Kyven could see that, but it was just plausible enough for the general to accept it for the moment.

"So, if I seem unnaturally curious about Loremaster troop movements, at least now you know why. And you will answer the question," he prompted in a neutral voice, yet dripping with veiled threat. "Why are the Loremasters massing an army near Riyan that they have no legal right to raise? What purpose will it serve? And when will it serve that purpose?"

The general gave him a long, searching look, no doubt weighing Kyven's threat to kill his youngest son against his loyalty to the Loremasters. "That army isn't under my command," he answered. "It's under the command of General Abram Bell, High Adjunct to the Circle. I haven't been in the meetings about exactly what the army is going to do, I can only tell you what I've heard in rumor and through my own briefings."

"Go on," Kyven prompted, sitting easily on a high-backed chair near the general's chair, turning it around so the back faced the general and leaning into it, leaning his forearms on the back of the chair easily. The casual, relaxed posture didn't give the general any courage to make an escape. He would know much more about Shaman than the average man, so he would know that Kyven could kill him without moving a single muscle. So long as Kyven's eyes glowed, the general knew that the Shaman could snuff out his life in an instant. Both of them glanced towards the bed when the woman shifted, turning on her side, and that made the general breathe a sigh of relief.

"My own orders tell me that something major is about to happen out in the mining districts," he began. "I've had to draw up a troop disbursal plan and a plan of action for those troops through all the mining villages, but focused specifically on Atan, Harpan, and Two Rivers. The forces are supposed to defend the villages. I've been ordered to draw up plans to fortify each village against possible attack and secure supply and communication lines between each village and Avannar, as well as with each other. But I haven't been told who is going to doing the attacking," he fretted. "Though if the Phioni hired you, maybe now I know where the attack's coming from."

"We're not here to dwell on that kind of conjecture, General," Kyven said calmly.

"The plans are all done and submitted and approved," the man continued. "The first elements are scheduled to deploy in two weeks, on the first of July. Advance elements of engineers and alchemists to begin surveys and start construction on fortifications."

"And when do the troops arrive in force?"

"Through mid-July," he answered. "Since we can't find Arcan labor, the soldiers themselves are going to be doing the majority of the work shoring up the defenses."

"Why, the Loremasters own thousands of Arcans, General. Whyever can't you just use them?"

"Because they've been claimed for another project," he answered. "Soldiers aren't the only thing being massed in Riyan. Just about every Arcan wearing a Loremaster collar is being moved to Riyan. The High Kennelmaster told me so himself when I went there to try to get some Arcans for the construction."

Kyven tapped his muzzle absently. That matched the information they had so far, that the Loremasters were desperately trying to find Arcans to use as slave labor. It was only logical that the Arcans the Loremasters owned, which were scattered all over Noraam, were being centralized in preparation. If they were pulling in all their Arcans, then they would be moving out soon.

Very soon.

"I think that army will be moving soon. They won't want to keep a bunch of Arcans in one place for long without using them, because they're eating food and doing no work. They'll probably start moving out in a month," the general noted, to which Kyven nodded in agreement.

"And you have no idea where that army is going?"

He shook his head. "Whatever that army is going to do, it's being kept quiet," he said. "There's only rumor, and the rumor is a bit wild, but it seems logical to me."

"What's the rumor?"

"Word's come through the vines that the geographers have been focusing on the unexplored territories west of the Smoke Mountains, and the current popular rumor is that the intelligence arm has uncovered a plan to attack Avannar by marching an army west of the Smoke Mountains, through one of the two passes, and then into the Free Territories. It's got some truth to it, if you ask me. All the army would have to do is dig in along the passes and an enemy army would have a hell of a time getting through. That would also explain why they need the Arcans, to build large-scale fortifications in the passes, and why the Loremasters raised such a big army. Avannar is Loremaster territory, and we have the right to defend it. It also explains why they had me draw up a defense plan for the Free Territories and focus on defending the mining districts. That army can still march over the mountains in smaller groups that don't need wagons and harass the settlements along the border, and it's our duty to protect the Free Territories from invasion." He looked down. "If the kingdoms are starting to send Shaman to Avannar, then maybe the rumors are true."

"What rumors?"

"That some kingdoms are starting to drift from the teachings of the Trinity," he declared, a bit defiantly. "They've been saying for years that those dirty star-worshipping Eusicans have started coming over here and setting up underground churches. If Phion really did make a deal with a Shaman, they're not walkers of the path of the light," he spat.

"Your Loremasters were certainly fast enough to make a deal with those dirty star-worshipping Eusicans to get their hands on Briton rifles," Kyven noted lightly.

The General gave him a hard look.

"Really, you think we don't know what's going on?" he asked with a light, scornful chuckle. "It took me about a week to dig up most of the secrets of your Loremasters, human, there's only a few of the better-kept ones I'm digging to uncover. You have no idea what I'm capable of doing, General. All your defenses in your headquarters were at least laughably amusing to me, and at most a minor inconvenience. Watching your Loremasters run around like chickens with their heads cut off has been very entertaining," Kyven said with a short, low laugh. "The Shaman have avoided conflict with the humans because the spirits forbade it, to prevent conflict between humans and Arcans as the spirits sought some peaceful means to free the Arcans from human control. For some reason far beyond me, the spirits care about the humans and don't want a war between your people and mine. But since war is coming to Noraam, the spirits have finally released the leash and are allowing us to act, to try to mitigate the loss of Arcans in the war to come. I made a deal with the humans to save the lives of my people, human, because when the war starts, they will be the first casualties, even if the Arcans won't be the direct target."

"War? What war?"

"The war your Loremasters are preparing for at this very moment, human," Kyven said simply. "You do understand exactly why Phion went to the extreme of getting me to work for them, don't you?" he asked lightly.

The general gave him a stunned look.

"The crystals are running out, human," he declared. "There isn't an endless supply of them. Every day, fewer and fewer are coming up from the mines. Phion knows it, the Loremasters know it, most of the kingdoms of Noraam either know it or suspect it. The Loremasters are bolstering the defenses of the mining districts because, soon, those will be the last regions of Noraam that still produces what few crystals there are left. So the Loremasters are preparing to hold them when the other kingdoms, knowing that without crystals they will be destroyed, invade the Free Territories to try to claim the last crystal-producing region on Noraam. What do you think will happen to my people when your slavers can't find crystals to put in their collars, human? The spirits have sent me to try to save as many of my people as possible, so they allowed me to work for Phion. Thanks to them, tens of thousands of my people who would have been slaughtered will now live. That, I think, was a fair bargain between the Shaman and Phion."

Kyven let that sink in, leaning on the back of the chair. "That's why Phion hired me. They want the mining villages of the Free Territories, human, because whoever controls those mines will literally control Noraam. And now that we have confirmation that the Loremasters have sniffed out their intent and are moving an army out to repel the attack, odds are they'll make their move before your Loreguard can take control of the region. While your armies prepare to repel an invasion from the west, they'll be blindsided by the invasion from the north. Ironic, isn't it?" Kyven chuckled.

"You're lying," the general hissed.

"Maybe. On the other hand, maybe I enjoy watching you struggle with hearing what I have to say and knowing that it's true, that all the rumors you've heard matches up with everything the Loremasters are doing, and now it makes sense once you fit that little piece of the puzzle into the frame. The Loremasters are about to violate the treaties holding the Alliance together, human, by taking control of the mining districts, and they've raised an army to defend those mines from the other kingdoms of Noraam, not from some outside force. They have no authority to do that, but yet that's exactly what they're having you do. Not to protect them from an outside invasion, but to hold them for the Loremasters when the crystals dry up everywhere else. You are preparing to break the word of your organization and be revealed as liars and backstabbers, General. That is the honorable organization you serve. So, let's go over exactly when your soldiers are leaving, exactly what they're going to be doing, where they're going to do it, and we'll go from there."

Kyven made the man talk for nearly an hour, giving Lightfoot time to ransack his office, as he made the man explain just how many men were going to what place, what they were going to do, and then when the rest of the soldiers would arrive and start fortifying the mining villages. He kept the general talking until Lightfoot stood behind the door and waved vigorously, getting his attention. She was ready.

It was time for the last bit of deception.

Carefully, Kyven built an illusion of himself in the exact pose in which he was in, then covered himself with it. Then, with painstaking quiet, he got up and knelt down, getting down lower than his illusion as it peered steadily at the general, then scratched its face absently. He got down on all fours and kept contact with the illusion with only his tail, getting well away from it, then he turned his attention to the bed. The man's wife was still sleeping there, and all it took was a little illusory bang in her ear, which only she could hear, to wake her up.

"Bren, dear," she said blearily, "the guards are making too much noise."

The illusion of Kyven stood up quickly, whirling towards the woman, who had sat up in bed and saw the Arcan. She screamed, an ear-splitting, lusty scream, and Kyven's illusion motioned a hand towards her, as if to execute her with magic. The general moved with a speed deceptive for a man that old, his hand diving into a drawer of the vanity and coming out with a pistol with two barrels, and both loaded with black crystal shots. As lightning swelled around Kyven's hand, the man whirled that pistol at the illusion's back and side and wasted not an instant pulling the trigger. The gunshot echoed through the house, the bullet hitting the far wall and digging into the wood paneling, and the illusion pitched forward bonelessly to the floor. The general jumped to his feet as the woman screamed again, holding the double-barreled pistol on the still form he could see on the floor. Kyven melded with the shadows of the room and separated himself from the illusion, then stalked over to the door on silent hands and feet. The general still held his pistol on the illusion, and when he moved to prod the illusion with his foot, Kyven had the illusion begin to smoke, black tendrils wafting up from the fur of the illusion. The general recoiled, the woman screamed again, and then the illusion on the floor seemed to just dissolve into a fine, shadowy mist. The general gaped as Kyven opened the door and slipped through it, then the hovering mist laughed in Kyven's voice. "You can't kill a spirit, human," the voice taunted, even as the mist evaporated, and the voice faded as if retreating to some far distance. "I will return with the setting sun, and I will track you down and finish you and your family. And spirits are eternal . . ."

On the both sides of the door, all hell broke loose. The general tried to open the door and found it stuck, so he ran to the window and started bellowing into the dark predawn, shouting to arouse the interest of a street patrol. On the other side of the door, Kyven and Lightfoot were racing like mad through the house. They had to be away from the house before it was surrounded by patrols of Loreguard. Lightfoot was carrying a satchel full of papers, the plunder from the house, and Kyven hovered over her and her bounty as they bounded down the stairs and then back to the conservatory, back to the open door. They rushed through it just after Lightfoot locked the door so they wouldn't know exactly where and how they had gained entry, then they bounded across the neatly manicured lawn and jumped the wall, blindly leaping over it and into the street beyond. There could have been an army of Loreguard there waiting for them, but thank the spirits, the street was empty and deserted . . . but the sound of boots rushing towards them was audible on both sides of the street. Kyven grabbed hold of Lightfoot and pulled her towards the fence encompassing the manor across the street, and with an urging hand on her backside, sent her over the fence. He clambered up it himself, dropped to the grass beside her, put his arm around her, and covered both of them in an illusion of a small redpetal bush, just as a patrol of Loreguard rushed towards the compound. Lightfoot remained quiet and still as the ten men ran by and then around the corner towards the gate into the compound, then a pair of mounted men galloped up and nearly made their horses fall trying to navigate the corner. When both groups were out of sight, he released the cat, turned, and bolted towards the far side of the yard, where a fence separated the lawn from the alley that bisected the block.

"Nervous," Lightfoot mused in a whisper as they jumped the fence of the far side, dashed across the alleyway, and then went over the next fence.

"No, now it gets nervous," he said as he pulled her back into the alley and turned his back to her. "On my back, and for the love of the spirits, do not let go for any reason," he warned.

She nodded and climbed up onto his back, then wedged the satchel in between them. She took firm grip of him around his chest as her legs wrapped around his waist, and he dropped down onto all fours even as he built an illusion of a Loreguard man and a dappled mare horse that almost exactly resembled the man and horse that had galloped by them. The horse turned as the man atop it urged it aside with the reins, then the man kicked the horse and spurred it a gallop, but under that illusion, Kyven turned his nose towards the river, settled himself to get Lightfoot in a position where he could run, then he bounded off right down the middle of the street once he turned out of the alleyway. The illusory sound of a horse's shod hooves clapping on the stones of the street echoed up and down as Kyven loped right down the street towards a static checkpoint. The men at the checkpoint moved to intercept the horse, but Kyven shimmied to the side. To those men, it looked as if the rider was reining his horse to go around them, and then the man shouted at the top of his lungs, "General Fourpost's house was attacked! Half of you stay, half of you get there now! Now, you lazy asses!" the man thundered as the horse barged past the checkpoint and galloped down the street towards Beggar's Bridge.

"Cute," Lightfoot intoned, her muzzle near his ear.

"Men often look for guidance in a time of confusion," Kyven said sagely as another checkpoint came into view ahead.

The lone rider charged through the southern half of New Avannar, screaming the alert at the top of his lungs, charging past checkpoint after checkpoint, patrol after patrol. The men at first thought to stop him, but as they heard him shouting the alarm, they allowed him to pass so he could continue spreading the word, even as a small army of Loreguard converged on the compound of General Bren Fourpost. No checkpoint dared stop the rider as he roused the city, to the point where the checkpoints at both sides of Beggar's Bridge actually got out of his way and allowed him to pass, and they thought nothing of it as the horse turned after it came off the bridge and rode straight towards the bridge leading to the Loremasters' headquarters.

They would have stopped to think, however, when the horse turned at Silver Street, which angled into Chain Way. Silver Street wasn't straight, it was one of the more crooked streets in Old Avannar, where the checkpoints at either side of a block couldn't see each other at several points between the river and Chain Way. The rider charged down Silver Street, to the surprise of the checkpoint of Silver Street and River Boulevard, but the checkpoint at the intersection of Silver Street and Noble Street never saw the horse and rider.

They saw nothing.

Kyven and Lightfoot ducked into a narrow gap between two old sandstone buildings, and then the lithe cat pulled up an iron grate at the end of that gap. "That smells awful," Kyven complained.

"It gets worse. In," she commanded.

And so, as they made their way to New Avannar over the rooftops, they made their way back home through the sewers. The sewers of Old Avannar were actually extremely dangerous, because they were dilapidated, narrow, twisting, and were prone to flooding depending on the tides. They were far too dangerous to use with regularity, but salty thieves like Shario knew the paths of the sewers and knew when they were safe to travel, when the tide was low . . . and Shario had taught Lightfoot well. Despite the city being on the river and not the sea, the high tide did back the river up and raise its level, and when that happened, many of the sewers in Old Avannar flooded. It was a period of lowering tide, so the water in the sewers was nearly knee deep for Lightfoot, and shin deep for Kyven, but the water was flowing steadily as it drained back out into the river. It wasn't the danger of flooding that made the sewers dangerous, it was the Ratrags. Ratrags were monsters about three times the size of a sewer rat, the size of a small dog, who were uniquely adapted to living in the sewers of Avannar . . . and were in fact found nowhere else in the world. They could breathe both air and water, and lived off garbage and anything unfortunate enough to get washed down into the tunnels. A Ratrag by itself wasn't capable of killing a man unless they took the man by surprise, but the problem was that they moved in packs, and a pack of Ratrags could kill almost anything. The sewers were their domain, and a man gambled with his life any time he entered their territory. The Ratrags were never, ever seen outside of the tunnels, and that was why the city tolerated them. They were hairless and had very sensitive, slimy skin, almost like a slug, they died quickly if their skin dried out, and they were severely allergic to sunlight, to the point where a Ratrag exposed to sunlight died within a matter of minutes. Because they couldn't live long out of the water, and sunlight could kill them, they would not leave the safe confines of their narrow, wet tunnels, even when it rained; they seemed to understand that rain was only temporary, and if the rain stopped while they were out of their tunnels, they might be in trouble if they couldn't get back to the sewers before the water drained away or evaporated, or if the clouds moved on and the sun came out. Like the rats from which they magically evolved, Ratrags were rather clever creatures.

Lightfoot didn't lead them far through the sewers, because they were just too dangerous. It was impossible to travel the rooftops all the way home because they were on the wrong side of Chain Way, and that was as far as the cat took them through the sewers. The sewer tunnels were narrow and crooked, as crooked as the streets above, and they went up, and down, waded through waist-high filthy water, then climbed a ladder to a grate that opened in an alley. "Chain Way," Lightfoot whispered, pointing down the alley. "That way," she added, pointing up the building beside them.

"Not yet," he said. He used the spell he'd learned in Haven that ejected all foreign matter and water from his fur, which left it clean, shiny, and not smelling like an open cesspool. He duplicated the spell for Lightfoot, which left her similarly clean. "You know she'd absolutely kill us if we came home smelling like that," he whispered in explanation.

Lightfoot gave him a slightly amused look, then she started up the wooden beam that formed the corner of the building beside them. Kyven replaced the grate and looked up to see her climbing, and when her tail ghosted out from her, it revealed Lightfoot's genitals. "At least I'll love the view as I climb," he mused quietly as he started up after her.

Once they were on the rooftops, both of them felt much safer. The Loreguard weren't up here, and their path was clear. They moved with confident stealth along the rooftops, jumping from roof to roof, making no sound even as Loreguard patrolled the streets right under them. They did, however, slow to a stop and take cover as something Kyven had heard about but had never seen appeared southeast of them and moved in an angle towards them, a flying machine. It was the size of a buggy, with two narrow seats and a pair of long, fluttering wings that beat at the air in a droning sound, like a dragonfly's wings. The flying machines were dreadfully expensive to build and consumed crystals at a tremendous rate, making them both expensive to buy and also to operate, but they offered someone an advantage far over anyone else. Kyven and Lightfoot huddled under the eaves of a window and covered by an illusion of that very window as the flying device fluttered to within a block of them, as magical lights scanned the city below as it moved steadily north.

"I think they're mad," Lightfoot whispered as the flying device fluttered out of sight.

"You think?" he asked with a chuckle, letting her go and dismissing the illusion.

It took them about ten more minutes to get home, and they found the attic window open and waiting for them. Lightfoot slipped in first, and Kyven slinked in after her. They padded down the narrow stairs to the second floor, and found Clover in the hallway, her hand reaching for the door as Lightfoot opened it. "Thank the spirits!" she said in relief. "How did it go?"

"Well," Lightfoot noted, holding up the satchel.

"Very smooth," Kyven told her. "Let's go to the vault and go through this stuff."

Down in the secret room, Kyven started to sort through the papers as he explained what happened. "I got a good amount out of the general that more or less validates the guesses we made," he surmised. "And I laid a false trail with him that should make the Loremasters look in the wrong direction long enough to give Shario and his friends time they need."

"What did you do?"

"Pinned my attacks and the Arcan buying to Phion," he answered. "I claimed the Phioni exchanged releasing thousands of Arcans in exchange for me coming to Avannar and investigating the Loremasters and their clandestine activities, and told him the Phioni were moving to invade the mining villages in the Free Territories because they know that the crystals are almost gone. The general didn't believe half of it, but there was just enough plausibility to my story to force them to investigate it. While they're busy aggravating the fuck out of the Phioni, the Flaurens should have a nice open field." He took one paper with the Loremaster seal on it and scanned it. "And these papers will hopefully substantiate what the general told me. But, he had a lot of motivation to tell the truth."

"What did you threaten to do to him?" Clover asked lightly.

"To him, nothing. I threatened to murder his youngest child if he lied to me, and kill the next oldest for every subsequent lie, until he was the only one left. He took me seriously."

"He was convincing," Lightfoot murmured. "I heard him through the door."

"I am a Shaman of guile and deceit, Lightfoot," Kyven chuckled. "If I couldn't lie convincingly, my totem would have nothing to do with me." He frowned. "The general said that the first advance elements of the occupational forces are leaving for the mining villages in two weeks," he told Clover. "Surveyors and engineers. The soldiers are supposed to arrive a week later, and they're the ones that'll be doing most of the work fortifying the villages. So that's the window, sister. The Masked have to move their routes away from the mining villages within two weeks."

"Any word on Deep River?"

He shook his head. "The Loremasters are keeping the plans for the army away from the rest of the Loreguard," he explained. "The general didn't know their plans, but he heard rumors that were pretty accurate. He knows through rumor that the army is marching into the forests west of the Smoke Mountains, and since the Loremasters are taking every Arcan they own and sending them to Riyan right now, he's sure that they'll be moving very soon."

"They must, if they want to march across the mountains, find a site, and dig in to prepare for winter," she nodded. "An army on horseback is one thing, but an army this size will march, and so they must give themselves at least two months to get to Deep River, if that is where they intend to bunker down for the winter."

"That's a long time."

"Brother, an army does not go fast," she told him. "So many men pitching tents every night, packing up every morning, then organizing and marching, then stops for rest and to eat, that doesn't actually give them much time to move. It's about five hundred minars from Riyan to Deep River if they go in a straight line, but they can't do that. An army of that size needs supplies, and those supplies will be on wagons . . . and there is no way they could run wagons across the Smoke Mountains from Riyan to Deep River without wasting months finding a navigable path through the mountains and clearing a road. They'll march the army north to Two Rivers, then down the Deep River valley to Deep River, which is a trip of nearly eight hundred minars, and use the river to ferry supplies back and forth from Two Rivers to Deep River. Given that the army will only move about twelve to fifteen minars a day, that's about two months."

"Could they load up their troops on boats and sail them from Two Rivers?" Kyven asked.

"They could, and probably will, with some of their men, to get them to Deep River fast and have them start securing the town. But that's too many men for the very few boats that sail that river. The bulk of the army will march, brother."

"Well, the letter said they wanted to build their new kingdom in the Snake River valley," Kyven mused. "It's a good five hundred more minars from Deep River to where it drains into the Great Snake River."

"Our scouts have seen no road building through the south pass, so unless they intend to carry everything they need on the backs of their soldiers, they have to be planning to use the river to move their goods, and that means Two Rivers and Deep River," Clover noted. "That or up the Snake River from Nurys and Alexton."

"Well, let's find out," Kyven said, handing Clover a sheaf of papers.

They rifled through the general's papers until well after dawn, and the papers weren't much more illuminating, but they did corroborate most of what the general told him and proved the general hadn't been lying. They found the general's very deployment plans in the papers, detailing exactly where his men were to go and what they were to do, in a systematic, logical, and practical deployment to every mining town between Rokan and Two Rivers, where they would build fortifications around both the villages and the mines, then bunker down behind their fortifications and defend the villages and the mines against what the papers said were simply any and all hostile forces. Most of the papers were just detailed orders and reports from the various army elements as they communicated their status and progress in their mission, showing that the armies that intended to occupy the mining areas were ready to begin the operation. Everything was planned out from troop locations to supply routes, even schedules of supply trains that would restock the supplies of the Loreguard armies. General Fourpost was efficient and very thorough, going by his plan and his execution of that plan, which was his responsibility.

By the time Patches brought them some breakfast, they had gone through all the papers and were discussing the information . . . which didn't take long. Everything they had learned was actually nothing new, it was just concrete evidence that their theories and assumptions had been correct. The only new information they had were the detailed plans of deployment, which would not certainly change because they didn't hide the fact that they had ransacked the general's office, and all his papers had been stolen.

It was what Kyven left behind that they discussed more than anything else. They would suspect he was lying, but there was just enough truth salted into those lies to make the Loremasters bite, and Kyven knew it. Every lie he told had a small seed of truth inside it, and while the General wouldn't know where those seeds were, the general's Councilor overseers would know where the truth was, and that truth would reinforce the lies and force them to take those lies at face value until they could actively prove they were false. They would hear that the hated Shaman knew their secret, that they were moving to take over Noraam because of the impending shortage of crystals, but that wasn't the true secret . . . but it touched on their deepest secrets in a way that would make them very uncomfortable and wary. They would come down on Phion like an angry mother-in-law if only because there was just enough in what the general would report Kyven said for them to take a close look at the city-state some two hundred minars north of Avannar. Kyven's deception was pretty encompassing, bringing the activities of the seemingly unstoppable Shaman in Avannar and the disappearance of Arcans from the kennels together in a patchwork quilt that, from a distance, did look like it all fit together in a way that made a kind of sense. They would be desperate to learn just what Phion knew, to see which pieces fit and which were just laid over the quilt to make it look like they fit, and that would cause them to focus their attention northward for a couple of critical weeks. They would investigate Phion if only to discount Kyven's claims and separate the lies from the truth . . . and while they were looking north, the Flaurens would make their move in the south. Kyven left more than just that, though. His little trick at the end, making them think that he was somehow unkillable, would also throw them for a loop.

But the main thing Kyven felt needed to be silently conveyed to the Loremasters was someone knew their secret, because he wanted them to sweat. When word got back to them that Flaur was withdrawing from the alliance, he wanted them to worry just who was going to leave next, he wanted them to see enemies behind every tree on this side of the Smoke Mountains, enemies that they were not yet ready to face. Until they had complete military control of the Smoke Mountain regions of the Free Territories, they needed the fiction of the alliance to hold to keep the kingdoms from attacking the Loremasters. He wanted them to be so embroiled in maintaining the fiction of the alliance and struggling to quell Flaur that they couldn't devote full time and attention to their activities west of the mountains, which would give the Arcans a chance to blindside them and hopefully deal them a swift, startling, and crushing blow that would shatter any attempt they made to establish a foothold in the Snake River or Deep River valleys.

And when word got back to the human kingdoms on this side of the mountains that the Arcans were organized and had their own nation far to the west, he wanted them too worried about each other to focus on the Arcans. If the Loremasters and Flaur were beating each other up on the piedmont plains south of Riyan, if other kingdoms withdrew from the alliance and declared war on the Loremasters because of their duplicity, that tied up the human war machines on this side of the mountains and kept them from banding together and attacking the Arcans to the west. That kind of unbridled chaos was the perfect opportunity for the Shaman to invade the human lands of Noraam and free the Arcans, and take them home.

About an hour after breakfast, they ended the conference. Kyven was sleepy from being up most of the night, so he padded upstairs to take a nap. Lightfoot came up with him, and he was a little surprised when she followed him into the room, and quite deliberately reached for the buckle of her belt. "You sure we have the energy for that?" he asked with a chuckle.

"Let's find out," she said, letting the belt fall to the floor. Seeing her without that belt instigated an immediate reaction out of him.

It turned out they did. When Lightfoot wanted him, she was almost always ready, so there was very little in the way of foreplay. It a matter of minutes, she was kneeling on the bed with him behind her, her tail shivering as he pushed into her. She was her usual intense self despite both of them being a little sleepy, and as usual the only sound he elicited from her were soft, throaty growls as he kneaded her small breasts with his claws hands and thrust into her with growing urgency. But, since both of them were tired, they didn't last half as long as they usually did. Lightfoot clenched around him after what seemed only a moment, and he held her tightly against him as she triggered his own climax, spending himself into her. She panted to recover as he licked at the backs of her ears, then nuzzled her neck and cheek from behind. "Was that what you wanted?" he breathed.

"Yes, thanks," she said breathlessly, keeping hold of his arms as she leaned forward, urging them both down to the bed. "Like this," she said, then she yawned. "Again when we wake up."

"Of course, my sleek Lightfoot," he breathed in her ear as he settled in on his side, keeping her back pressed against his chest and stomach. "What man could say no to you?"

"Bleeding ones," she answered, which made him explode into laughter, his breath disturbing her wild shock of bone-white hair.



They only slept a couple of hours, then enjoyed each other again before getting up, getting up to take stock in the reactions of the Loremasters to their attacks. Kyven stayed close to the shop during the day, reading the reports sent by the Masked cell in town, as well as a few letters sent over by postboy by Shario. The Masked cell had a few moles in the Loremaster organization, and the information they gleaned was shared with Kyven's group. Shario's information, however, was much more interesting. The Flaurens had already begun purging themselves of the Loremasters by doing it quietly, primarily by arresting or detaining the Loremasters stationed at the most remote Flauren villages. By the time those Loremasters reached the main cities, the Flaurens would expel all Loremasters. Their plans for the Loreguard were simple; they intended to march their armies and sail their navies and evict the Loreguard, by force if necessary. Kyven and Clover digested this information and discussed it until well into the afternoon. When it was clear Kyven would have no customers that day, he closed the shop and went out to the taverns and festhalls frequented by off-duty Loreguard and Loremasters. Out there, he bought a few rounds of drinks, settled in, and listened. And they didn't disappoint him. Just by sitting there and listening to half-drunk Loremasters and Loreguard, Kyven learned that the Loremasters were, to use a phrase, in a tizzy. Lightfoot's killing of the Councilor had put the upper echelons of the organization into an absolute uproar, because the evidence made it abundantly clear that he'd been murdered by a clawed Arcan. The body had been savaged, his ten guards murdered by someone that had overpowered them physically and ripped them up with claws or broken bones or necks through sheer physical power, which were blatant indications that an Arcan had been the attacker. But what was most mysterious at all, all alchemical attempts to divine the identity of the attacker had been defeated.

Clearly, Clover's owl spirit had a hand in that, covering Lightfoot's tracks from a magical standpoint to prevent the Loremasters from using alchemy to gather clues. The bargain, Kyven knew, was for the owl to protect them from discovery. Most of the defenses the owl had placed were around the shop itself, but each of them had a touch, a mark of favor, then extended to them the same protection when they were outside. The owl's protection wouldn't stop someone from seeing Lightfoot, but it seemed that protection did protect his fighting Arcan from being discovered using magic. The protection on Kyven and Clover was much weaker than it was on the others, because he and she were Shaman, and were able to protect themselves.

The murder of the Councilor had put the elite in a state of what could be called panic. For the first time, they saw that they were just as much a target as the Loreguard grunt standing guard on a street corner, and that sense of personal involvement had caused them all to run to the safety of the Loremaster headquarters and triple the already heavy guard. The murder of the Loremaster and the general at the bridge only solidified it, made it abundantly clear that the rulers of the Loremasters had been targeted . . . and what was interesting to Kyven was that they believed that it was a group doing it, not just a couple of people. The rumors flying around was that some kingdom or government was attacking the Loremasters, and had somehow gained the cooperation of a Shaman, and now that group was attacking the Loremasters.

That just played right into the story he told the general. The Eusicans were highly prominent in the rumors, because they didn't believe in the Trinity, and in many Eusican nations and kingdoms, it was illegal to keep Arcans as slaves . . . what few Arcans there were outside of Noraam. Until just fifty years ago, no kingdom in Eusica would permit an Arcan within their borders. Most nations in western Eusica followed a religion called the Followers of the Star, but it wasn't literally worshipping the night sky. That was just a metaphor, because their god's title was translated into the guiding star in Noraavi. Their religion forbade slavery, though it didn't recognize Arcans as sentient beings. Their reasoning was that Arcans were animals, very intelligent animals without souls, but their religion also said it was immoral to treat either man or animal as chattel, to use them or abuse them, and no man could force another to do a day's labor without giving a day's pay, and their High Prelate had decreed that since Arcans could perform tasks that only a human could perform, they therefore had to be compensated for performing a human's work just like a human. Their religious leader decided this because even though their religion classified Arcans as animals because Arcans had human-like intelligence far beyond any other animal, Arcans could comprehend their situation in ways no other animal could. That human-like comprehension gave Arcans a unique status in the Eusican religion, more than an animal but less than a man, and it fit in with the religion's strict teachings about being compassionate and kind to lesser creatures and animals. Even animals raised to be slaughtered and eaten had to be treated kindly and well, and that slaughter had to be painless and humane. They believed that an animal who died in pain caused the meat from that animal to become tainted with sin, and they would not touch it. What they did was put the animal in a special barn filled with a gas that caused the animals to go to sleep, and then die peacefully in that sleep. When a couple of Eusican nations changed their laws to allow Arcans to enter, to entice Noraavi merchants to set up shop, the Noraavi were shocked to find out that the Eusicans would allow them to bring their Arcans, and own those Arcans, but those Arcans were not permitted to perform slave labor. If the merchants wanted to employ Arcans, they had to pay them for that work. Even owned Arcans could not be forced to do labor without compensation, as per the tenets of the Eusican religion. That so shocked the Noraavi that they still to this day refused to open trade enclaves in any kingdom in Eusica.

But, the Loremasters were right, up to a point. There was a group attacking the Loremasters . . . just no group they would ever believe existed.

The full measure of the rumor was thus: they believed that there was a large group of agents from a Eusican country was in Avannar attacking the Loremasters to try to destabilize Noraam, which was the first step to Eusica taking over the kingdoms to gain access to the crystals, a resource that only existed in any real quantity on Noraam. They believed that these Eusicans had somehow managed to find and enlist a Shaman, who was working with them because the Shaman foolishly believed that the Eusicans would treat the Arcans in a way immoral to the Trinity, which taught that Arcans were animals created for the sole reason to serve man in any capacity man so desired.

It showed Kyven both the good and the bad of the effectiveness of the Shaman and the Arcans in hiding their true nature. The Loremasters absolutely could not believe that Arcans were intelligent and sophisticated enough to perpetrate such an action, or at least lower-ranking Arcans. More powerful Loremasters knew that the Shaman were in fact highly intelligent and very dangerous, but even they couldn't comprehend something like Haven, where Arcans lived and governed themselves peacefully. But when the average human did discover that Arcans were just as smart as humans, able to create their own society and function, the backlash would be severe. Humans feared what they didn't understand, and that fear most often turned to violence.

It also showed that, at the moment, the lower-ranking Loremasters couldn't believe that people in the Noraavi Alliance would ever back out of it. Never one mention of Flaur in their rumors, nor of Phion, which told him that Kyven's baiting of the general had yet to leak out of the upper echelons of their organization.

Kyven returned to the shop well before sunset, only to find Clover packing a small pack in the vault. "What are you up to?" he asked curiously.

"I have been summoned by the spirits," she told him.

"Summoned? What for?"

"I am to meet a large element of Masked near Hamon, and attack the Briton frigate carrying the rifles before it can reach Stinger Bay. The council and the spirits do not want those weapons to enter the field."

Kyven gasped. "How?"

"Some of the Masked are experienced sailors, and they have acquired a raker. That should be fast enough to catch the frigate while still too far from land for the Loreguard or the Stinger Bay ships to respond. The Britons have no exposure to Shaman, my brother. Our orders are to capture the ship if possible and take the rifles and then sink it, or sink the ship and deny the rifles to the Loreguard if that's not possible. Capturing the ship will be dangerous, but if we can get those rifles for our people, then the risk is worth the result. Either way, keeping them out of the hands of the Loreguard is what matters most."

"I . . . sister, I'll feel, helpless without you here."

She gave him a light smile. "I am not your mother, my brother," she teased lightly. "I have every confidence you'll still be here when I get back. You are clever and resourceful, and I'm sure that while I'm gone, you'll be much more careful than usual."

"Damn right I will," he said, coming up and nuzzling her, then pulling her into an embrace. "But I'm more worried about you, sister. Britons are supposed to be the finest sailors on the sea. Any attack on their ship won't be without risk."

"Cannons and rifles are no match for magic, my brother," she told him. "They won't fire on us until I'm close enough for their weapons to mean nothing. That, the Masked absolutely swear will happen, something about maritime law and custom dealing with ship to ship parley which we will admittedly be breaking. But this is war now, brother, and there are no rules in war but one. Win."

The idea of Clover not being with him was . . . it was terrifying. He didn't realize until that moment how much he depended on his sister, on her calm wisdom and her analytical mind, and on the reassuring comfort of her presence. Though Kyven was technically the leader of their cell, Clover was the true ruler, because he acceded to her greater wisdom and she had a great say in every decision made. She was his role model, everything a Shaman should be, wise and gentle and powerful, and he would feel both exposed and uncertain with her not there.

But he would make it. He would be much more careful without Clover being there, both because she was so important and also because without Clover it meant that the young ones would be defenseless when he wasn't home. Yes, until she came back, he would stay very, very close to the shop.

He had no idea how it happened, or which of them started it, but one moment he was holding her, and the next she was bent over the table, her leather trousers around her feet, and Kyven was penetrating her while his clawed hands pushed under her shirt and grabbed her breasts. He pushed fully into her and grabbed tight hold of her. "Tell me you'll be careful," he whispered. "Tell me you'll come home safely."

"With you saying goodbye like this, how could I not?" she asked with a light chuckle that was drowned out by a low, deep-throated growl of pleasure as she leaned on her hands and allowed Kyven to have his way with her . . . and he didn't disappoint. He was both urgent and mindful that he was giving her her last episode with him until she came home, so he made sure that it was her pleasure that mattered most in their sexual interlude. He could feel her trembling against him as he did everything he knew she liked, from gripping her shoulders to biting at her ears lightly to making love to her with powerful yet measured strokes that shook the table but didn't bounce her around. He worked her up to a powerful climax that made her dig furrows in the table with her short claws as she clenched around him in a way that almost felt like she was joining to him, and he gripped her tightly as that incited his own climax. He panted into her hair as she growled and groaned in equal measure, then collapsed to her elbows on the table. "By the spirits, my brother, that was one hell of a way to send me off," she panted disjointedly. "You're tempting me to take you upstairs and do that again."

"I would if I could keep you here, but the spirits have called you," he said regrettably. "You are needed, sister, by someone who needs you more than I do. You and me are the only Shaman east of the Smoke Mountains, and I can't leave Avannar. You're the only one that can do it."

"I know. But I promise you, my brother, I'll be careful. And I'll be home soon. A week at the most is how long I'll be gone. The Masked knows exactly when that ship is supposed to arrive and which direction it's coming from. I'll be literally going through Hamon and straight to the ship, then we set sail. We'll intercept it and sink it, then I'll be right back here."

"And I'll be waiting for you."

"You've definitely determined what we're doing first when I get back," she said impishly, looking back at him as she wiggled her bottom slightly. The shifting was actually a little painful for him, and he winced slightly and grabbed tighter hold of her.

"Stop that, or you won't get it when you get back."

She laughed lightly. "Just be careful, my brother. Without me here to rein in your wilder notions, I'll worry about you."

"I may not leave the shop until you get back," he grunted, which made her laugh for some odd reason.

Chapter 4