Shadow Walker

by James 'Fel' Galloway

Chapter 2

The old, chipped crockery tankard never saw it coming.

The battered old tankard exploded into a shower of flying shards, and a spray of mud and dirt erupted from the embankment behind it, pattering back to the grass along with the crockery shards. The tankard beside it wobbled slightly when a glob of mud landed on its handle, then it too exploded into fragments.

Some three hundred paces away, Kyven and Shario looked on, Shario through a spyglass, as Kyven cocked the lever of the Briton rifle. The Britons were truly advanced with their firearms technology, for the rifle in Kyven's hands was an order of magnitude better than a Noraavi musket. It had a slightly shorter barrel then a musket, but the interior of the barrel had spiraled grooves etched into it that caused the bullet to spin when fired, and that spin made the bullet fly straight and true. The rifle also didn't load through the breech. The Britons had invented these small brass cartridges that held all the gunpowder, primer, and round, which made the rifle reload with amazing speed. The rifle could hold seven cartridges, one in the barrel and six in a spring-loaded holding chamber. To cause the weapon to reload, all he had to do was cock a lever behind the trigger, which ejected the brass casing of the prior shot and loaded the new cartridge in the barrel. To load new cartridges into the weapon, all he had to do was slide them into a slotted, covered hole on the side of the rifle, where a spring pushed the next cartridge into position when the lever was cocked, then the cartridge was pulled into the firing chamber. It was absolutely ingenious, this rifle, and its speed of fire and accuracy were almost overshadowed by its sighting scope. Consisting of a spyglass-like tube, the sighting scope magnified what he could see, and there was a little black cross inlaid onto the sights that he could use to aim the rifle. He'd had to manually adjust the scope to match up that little cross the actual rifle, using tiny adjusting screws on the scope to shift its angle until the little cross matched the actual aim of the rifle. The crosshair wasn't exactly where the bullet went, though. He'd found that the bullet actually hit a few fingers below that mark, reflecting the few fingers of difference between the sight and the barrel. He'd tried to match up the sight to the rifle exactly, but he discovered that that changed when the rifle was shooting at targets at different distances. So, to make it uniform, he set it up this way, so his sight was true if he was shooting at something twenty paces away, or a hundred paces away.

In the week since he'd attacked the Loremasters, things were still very tense. His follow-up invasion had sent them almost into hysterics, and though the daytime curfew was now lifted, the night curfew was still in effect and there were checkpoints at almost every other intersection where the Loreguard searched citizens and questioned them as to where they were going, what they were doing, and how long it would take. They were actually trying to track the movements of everyone in the city using those checkpoints, logging everything down and searching for disparities where people said they were going one place or doing one thing and actually did another. Kyven couldn't imagine what kind of paper trail that would create, every checkpoint turning in logs filled with names, times, and information which then had to all be collated, but they were serious about it. But the simple fact was, nothing they had done so far had found the Shaman, so they were trying new ideas to try to track him down. They knew he was still in the city. They knew he was going to invade them again, cause more damage. One didn't successfully walk into the headquarters of the Loremasters three separate times and not expect to do it a fourth. And so far, the only headway they'd made is that they now knew what the Shaman looked like. Outside of that, they were powerless to stop him, and they knew it.

That was one of the reasons he wanted the rifle. They were now in a very high state of alert, and it would be hard to get close to them, it would be much harder to invade the island again. With this little toy, Kyven could get around the distance limitation of his Shaman magic and attack the Loremasters in a much more mundane manner, but Kyven's unique abilities would allow him to get into positions where he could use the rifle, and then escape once it was fired. For one, the rifle's shot would never be heard, because Kyven could silence himself, silence the weapon, which would eliminate the single most revealing aspect of using it. For another, he could hide himself both before and after firing the rifle, making it impossible for them to find the shooter. And since the rifle used a different kind of gunpowder that was much stronger and smokeless, there was no telltale cloud of smoke to give away his position, just a small puff which he could easily eliminate with magically-created breeze of air. The only drawbacks to the rifle were that he couldn't hide the rifle when he melded with shadows, meaning he had to use illusion to conceal both himself and the rifle, and also the scope did nothing for his spirit sight. He had to use normal sight to aim the rifle through the scope, so there had to be some light present for him to see his target.

Kyven, it turned out, was a natural with a rifle. The same steady hands that allowed him to cut valuable crystals also gave him a precise and methodical aim, and that made him an excellent natural marksman. His sense of aim refined with his daggers and the idea of leading a distant target with a thrown dagger translated to the scope and rifle fairly well, and it only took about ten days of practice with the rifle to get the hang of it.

Tweak became the hero when he got the rifle from Shario. Tweak's alchemy training allowed him to work out how to refill the used cartridges, and it was the thin ferret that took the empty casings Kyven brought to him and used a bullet press from Briton that came with the rifle, and he made the rifle rounds, then he taught Kyven how it was done when he demanded to learn the skill from the ferret. Clover took metal stock and used her Shaman magic to make the metal bullets, then Tweak or Kyven took the bullet, powder, and primer and used the Briton press to make new cartridges. Shario had procured the powder and primer for them, as well as some extra empty rifle casings, which gave them enough casings to make 50 bullets at a time. But what was sobering to Kyven was that these same rifles-without the scope-and the bullet presses were coming to Noraam, part of the deal the Loremasters made with Briton. Briton would supply them the rifles, casings, smokeless powder, and teach them how to press the bullets themselves, and in return Briton got a large number of uncut crystals and the services of fifty cutters that would sail to Briton and live there for ten years, both cutting the crystals and training Britons in the art of cutting as well. From what Shario had discovered, there were 5,000 rifles coming to Noraam. In the hands of trained soldiers, those 5,000 rifles could decimate any organized Arcan attack, because they could start killing Arcans far outside the range of Shaman magic, giving them the first shot, and a highly accurate shot at that. Kyven had proved that hands down, for he could hit a tankard at three hundred paces using a scope. In the hands of a trained soldier, that would give each soldier a good two shots before the Arcans were in range to retaliate with alchemical weapons.

That was the trade-off. Shaman magic and alchemical weapons were very powerful, but they had a much shorter range than firearms. To use the strongest weapons the Arcans had, magic and their natural strength and agility, they had to be very close. He could see that any battle fought between the Arcans and the Loreguard would hinge on that fact. If the Arcans could close the distance without losing too many of their number, they would win. If they were reduced too much in number before they could bring their weapons to bear, they would lose. That was why he was so glad Danna was there. She would understand that problem and probably push to get the Arcans as many muskets as she could get her hands on, to level the playing field. They would have to fight using muskets and cannons themselves, or remove the ability of the Loreguard to fight from a distance by attacking at night. All Arcans had superior night vision compared to humans, capable of seeing in a moonless night. Night attacks were almost perfect for an Arcan army, when they could see and their human enemies would have a much harder time.

That was how she was going to do it, he was certain. Arm the Arcans with muskets and have them attack at night, when they could see and the humans would need alchemical aids to see them. In that style of attack, the Arcans could close the distance and get within range of Shaman magic and alchemical weapons, as well as engage in hand to hand combat where the Arcans had natural advantages. Lightfoot by herself could kill a large number of Loreguard if she could get close enough, because she was twice as strong as a human and was fast as lightning. She could kill with her small claws and her raw strength, without needing any weapons. A few dozen fighting Arcans like Lightfoot could wreak havoc on Loreguard lines, but such an attack would almost certainly be suicidal. For them to survive, the fighting Arcans would need support from the Arcans who were serving in the army.

There was definitely a difference between the fighters and the soldiers. Fighting Arcans like Lightfoot were either trained as gladiatorial pit fighters or had chosen to be fighting Arcans. Lightfoot was a freeborn Arcan, born in Haven, but she had trained as a fighting Arcan to serve as a protector, trained in both using weapons and fighting hand to hand. Arcans like Lightfoot were the ones that roamed the lands south and east of Haven searching for invaders or free Arcans. They were the true soldiers of Haven before the army was formed, the fighters, the ones that protected Haven from monsters and invaders. A pack of fighting Arcans was willing to take on a Wolveran or an Ursorax to protect Haven. They were remarkably well trained, and since they were all volunteers, they were very good at what they did. Lightfoot was a typical example of a fighting Arcan; loyal, disciplined, and capable. But there were only a few thousand fighting Arcans among the hundreds of thousands that lived in Haven.

But now there would be soldiers, and lots of them. Clover told him that nearly half the population of Haven had volunteered for service, and though he had no idea how Danna was organizing it, she'd have no want for willing Arcans to fill the ranks of her army.

He hoped that they wouldn't have to fight. That was what this was all about, as he shouldered the rifle and aimed through the scope. The Loremasters were controlled by the Circle, and now, he felt, it was time to take the war to the Loremasters well before they started their march into the frontier. As a Shaman, he had to get too close to kill Loremasters and high-ranking Loreguard. But with this rifle, magically silenced to hide his location, he could kill from a great distance, and then his Shaman and shadow powers would make him extremely hard to find. Kyven intended to be the assassin that the fox had told him he could be, and his target would be anyone with a gold-bordered Loremaster tabard or Loreguard officer's insignia. Any time he wasn't running his shop or trying to invade the Loremaster's headquarters, he'd be hunting them down with his rifle. And when they stopped coming out or started not wearing their rank openly, he'd simply start randomly killing anyone in a Loremaster's tabard or a Loreguard uniform.

He knew that alchemy would allow the Loremasters to deliver their orders to the Loreguard from the safety of their island, but he wanted them all but imprisoned within that island. He wanted anyone who had any rank to be too afraid to so much as step out of a building for fear of being shot by an invisible assassin. He wanted them so afraid that it would cause disruption in their headquarters, that they would be forced to devote resources and manpower to him instead of Haven. He wanted exactly what was happening right now on a large scale. He wanted the Loremasters to be prisoners in their own city, and have to expend a great deal of time and energy trying to get rid of a single Shaman when they could be using that time or energy on other purposes.

This was war, and that meant that he had to do anything he could to protect Haven, protect his Shaman brothers and sisters, protect Danna, protect the innocent Arcans, and protect his future children.

"Nice, nice," Shario noted as Kyven lowered the rifle. "You certainly didn't take long to master the rifle."

"It's not that hard," he said casually, picking up the brass casing so he could use it later. "What brings you out here Shario? It must be important for you to come all the way out here." And it was quite a way. Kyven was in a small clearing near the Great Falls of the Podac River, some twenty minars northwest from Avannar and well north of the horse ranches for which the region was famous. Shario himself had brought Kyven out here when he'd noted he needed a remote place to practice but not too far from the city, and Shario showed him this place the next day.

"A mixture of curiosity and business, my friend," he answered. "And my little chef has issued the command for you to come home. It is dinnertime."

Kyven chuckled. "She keeps us all on a tight leash."

"Come, my buggy is close. Let us ride home."

Kyven accepted the ride, stowing the rifle under the seat of the buckboard and climbing up as Shario untied the reins of the two horses pulling it from a nearby branch. "So, I received a letter today from my brother," Shario began, holding the reins negligently in a hand as he leaned easily back in the chair. "He's a junior undersecretary in the Flauren Parliament, you know," he added with a smile and a glance. "Works in the office of the parliament itself, not for any of the Barrista, the elected representatives. It seems that the Barristas are taking certain warnings to heart, my friend. The King has accepted the recommendations of Parliament and he's mobilizing the armed forces."

"I'm glad to hear that. Do they believe us?"

"Not everything," he answered honestly. "But what they do believe is that the Loremasters have a very large army massing in Riyan, they have no authority to do so according to the treaties they forced upon us, and they have no earthly reason to raise such a force without some kind of objective for it to accomplish. Flaur intends to act first. Next week, my country intends to expel the Loremasters and dissolve the treaties holding Flaur in the Noraam Alliance on the grounds that the Loremasters have violated those treaties."

"Very bold," Kyven noted. "Any worry of possible violence with Georvan, Alamar, or Nurys?"

"Nurys," Shario spat. The rivalry between Flaur and the large city-state stationed at the mouth of the Snake River was as famous as it was bitter, focusing on the fact that Nurys utterly controlled all traffic on the Snake River between the sea and the two cities further north, Alexton and Bayonne, choking the merchant Flauren off from potential customers, and the city was surrounded by water, literally. It rested at the terminus of the Snake River Delta on slightly higher ground straddling the channel cut through it by the Snake River just before it began to divide into the channels of the Snake River Delta, a city that literally rose up out of deep, dark, dangerous swamps that surrounded the city. Because it was surrounded on three sides by swamp and by the delta on the fourth, it was virtually impossible to invade Nurys by land, and because of that fact, the city-state had one of the most powerful navies in the Waveless Sea. Nurys was said to be a very hot, muggy, unpleasant place to live, where if the heat and humidity didn't make you miserable enough, the clouds of mosquitoes and other biting insects rolling in off the swamps like a living fog could suck half the blood out of a man every night. "They don't think so, my friend. Flaur is quietly approaching the other governments of Noraam and presenting your evidence, which is now unmistakable and unarguable. My people have verified the army massing near Riyan through independent means. They will find that Flaur has every legal right to withdraw from the agreements, because they have been violated by the Loremasters themselves."

"We can only hope that the others have the same sense your people do, Shario."

"We can only watch and see, my friend," he answered soberly. "Have you fared well this last week?"

He nodded. Since taking in Lucky and Watcher, they had quietly informed Shario that they weren't available to entertain. They had no fear of Shario knowing about the boys, it was more for the boys, to give them the chance to both recover and acclimate themselves . . . and also to prevent Lucky from accidentally saying something to Shario that the Flauren shouldn't know. Watcher was still recovering from nearly being starved to death, and it was much worse than what had happened to Kyven. Watcher's body had wasted and emaciated from a combination of being locked in that tiny box and getting virtually no food over a long period of time, and it was taking a while for him to recover, even with Clover using a blessing on him every day to speed up his recovery. Even now, after a week, he could barely walk without assistance, though his body was again starting to flesh out and the trembling palsy in his limbs had ceased. "It's been rather tight since finding food has been a problem, but we're alright," he answered.

"Yes, yes, I'm having the same problem. The inspections at the bridges and the gates of the old city is disrupting the supplies coming into the city, and the merchants have inflated their prices far over the drop in supply. A baker tried to charge me fifteen chits for a single loaf of bread!" he declared a bit indignantly.

"At least some of the people are taking it in stride," Kyven noted.

Shario laughed. "Yes, the veritable forest of fishing poles that have sprouted up along the riverbanks and bridges," he noted. "I feel sorry for the fish. I believe they can't swim a single rod without bumping into a hook." He ducked under a low branch hanging over the narrow lane. "Any information of note you need to pass along?"

"Nothing really right now. It's been too dangerous to so much as put a foot outside my shop. I haven't had a customer since the crackdown," he frowned. "And I won't dare allow anyone out of the shop except me. Not even Lightfoot, and Trinity is she pissed about it. But it's way too dangerous right now, not with patrols of Loreguard shooting anything that moves the instant the sun goes down. It's not a good time to be so much as a stray cat in Avannar at the moment."

"Yes," Shario said soberly. "That is something I think you should consider, my friend. When their attempts to find the Shaman come up empty, you know what they will do."

"Start slaughtering Arcans hoping they kill him through random luck, or at the very least kill whoever is helping him," Kyven said grimly. "There have been quite a few Arcan deaths as it is, but those haven't been . . . systematic."

"I am already in the process of removing every one of my Arcans from Avannar," he declared. "I am sending them to my cousin who runs a kennel in Hammon, and he will take care of them for me until it is safe to bring them back. The last of them should be safely gone from here by tomorrow. I would normally not presume to give you advice, my friend, but my little chef, and Tweak, they are in very real danger. Clover and Lightfoot can protect themselves, but the young ones . . . " he trailed off.

"I know," Kyven sighed. "I've been thinking about the problem, and a few others. I might have a problem telling Patches she has to go. Believe it or not, that little red panda rules us all."

Shario laughed. "She controls the kitchen," he noted with a sly smile.

"And that's how she rules us," Kyven agreed. "I mean, look at us. She sent you an hour outside the city to come get me, and I'm running back home at her command. We're completely tail-whipped."

Shario laughed delightedly.

It took about an hour for them to get back to Avannar, as Shario was able to canter the horses after they got on the Atan Road. But they were held up at the gate to the old city, joining a line of merchants and villagers trying to get in. The Loreguard hadn't closed off the city, but they had instituted these checkpoints to thoroughly inspect anyone coming in or going out, searching for the black fox Shaman. It took them nearly half an hour to get to the gate, and then they were subjected to a half hour of inspection and questioning. Kyven had no reason to lie about what he'd been doing, and immediately told them he'd been target shooting by the river, which was his hobby. That explained the presence of his firearm, which to the Loreguard appeared to be a breech loading hunter's blunderbuss instead of a Briton sniper's rifle. Both Kyven and Shario were inspected, searched, inspected again, then had an alchemical device swept over them to see if they were using disguises. A truth crystal was prominently displayed at all times, which was why Kyven simply told the truth, and then their departures were checked against a log, for both of them had been similarly grilled when they left. Kyven hadn't lied when he left either, telling the guards when he left he intended to go out and target shoot. Shario had been honest in saying he was going out to fetch Kyven, and now here they were, doing exactly what they said they were doing when they left.

Eventually, they got through the checkpoint, and Shario drove Kyven back to his shop. He waved goodbye to the Flauren with a simple word of farewell, and entered his shop through the front door, unlocking it with his key and stepping inside. Clover met him before he could even get the door closed, then switched the sign on the window to demonstrate that he was open for business. He would leave it thus until sundown, but over the last week, he'd had not a single customer. "Clover," he greeted as he handed her the rifle.

"We had a visit earlier," she said seriously. "The Loremaster that brings you crystals, Yoris. He was looking for you."

"Really? What did he want?"

"He had an order for you," she answered. "I told him you had gone hunting, since there is such little food available in the city right now. He said he'd come back later."

"Did he see the boys?"

She shook his head. "Lightfoot saw him coming and warned us. We took the boys upstairs." Kyven could explain the Arcans they knew about because he'd had them since they'd started hiring him. But for him to suddenly have two new Arcans in a shop where he didn't need two more Arcans, and in the current Arcan market where even finding an Arcan for sale was a challenge. Even old or unsuitable Arcans were going for over a hundred chits right now, because the Masked had been so amazingly effective at clearing out the Arcans from the kennels, buying them and sending them west. In this current climate, Yoris could not see anything that might seem out of the ordinary . . . and the sudden appearance of two young, healthy, expensive Arcans in a small cutter's shop where they weren't needed would definitely seem unusual.

He stepped into the workshop and patted Patches fondly on the shoulder. "That was a cute trick, sending Shario after me, little one," he told her slyly.

She gave him a shy look. "It was Clover's idea. She wanted you to come home because the Loremasters were looking for you, and Shario had something he needed to tell you, so she had him go get you."

"Ah," he said, glancing at the coyote, who just smiled. "Clever."

"Thank you," she said lightly. "I have little doubt that Yoris has a page watching for you to return, so I'd expect to see him very soon."

Kyven scratched his cheek, nodding. "You should take something to eat up to the boys and have Lightfoot keep them up there," he told Patches.

"I'll take care of it," she nodded, scurrying off.

"Tweak upstairs?"

"Down in the cellar," she answered. "He's putting away the press in the vault."

"Smart," Kyven nodded.

Clover, as usual, was correct, for Yoris arrived at the shop about half an hour after Kyven got home. He shook Kyven's hand as he entered the workshop with four Loreguard and a robed Loremaster Kyven had never seen before. "I'm glad to see you, Yoris, I haven't had a single customer since the curfew," he said. "I need the money."

"Well, you'll earn it, my friend," the bearded man told him. "I have two things here for you. One is a cut job, but the other, well, we want your appraisal of something . . . unusual."

"Unusual? You've made me curious, Yoris," he said, sitting down at his workbench.

The largest of the four Loreguard stepped up and removed his pack, then produced a cloth-wrapped bundle. "We want you to appraise this, Kyven," Yoris told him as the man unwrapped it, and produced what had to be a sixty point green crystal, ovoid in shape, and nearly the size of a baby's head. "We have never seen anything like it before."

Kyven's fingers tingled as he took hold of the crystal, peering into its depths. Almost immediately, he could sense the . . . perfection of this crystal. It had no internal flaws at all, and its structure was as dense as possible, meaning that the crystal had the absolute maximum potential for a crystal its size. The exterior of the crystal was the only irregularity about it, and it was literally paper-thin, just enough to protect the interior from the hostile outside. He put it under his magnifying glass to inspect the internal structure, but he didn't really need to do it to understand just what he was holding in his hands.

He had no doubt at all that this crystal was not natural. It was made, one of the crystals made by the Shaman to pay for the Arcans. But he didn't expect any of them to make a mistake like this. They were explicitly told that the crystals they made had to pass muster to appear normal, and that meant no unusually large crystals, no perfect crystals, and no saturated crystals. This one was all three.

Kyven knew immediately why they brought it to him, and he knew exactly what to say and do. "I . . . by the Trinity. Where did you get this, Yoris?" he asked in what sounded like awe as he slowly turned the crystal in his hands under the glass. "This crystal is . . . is . . . perfect. It has no flaws at all, and it's got an internal structure that amplifies its power instead of weakening it. I'd bet a hundred chits you could stick it in a device uncut, and it'd power it with no problems. I've never seen anything like it."

"Neither have we," Yoris said seriously.

"Where did you get it?"

"I'm afraid I can't discuss that with you, Kyven," he said seriously. "But we wanted a second opinion, and your training makes you a very dependable man to give it. Now, as to the other matter of business," he said, taking a sixteen point green crystal out of his belt pouch that was very irregularly shaped. "What can you do with this?"

Kyven carefully handed the large crystal back to the guard, then took the crystal. He studied it for a long moment, seeing that it was a well formed trapezoidal symmetry crystal with a very nasty flaw running almost parallel to the longitudinal axis for nearly half the crystal. The crystal itself was well formed and would be easy to cut if not for that internal flaw. "Not much you want to hear," he said seriously, putting it under his glass. "The central flaw is nearly fatal, due to its position and the shape of the crystal. But . . . I might be able to do something about it. It's going to cost you about a point and a half, but I can take that off in a one point sliver which you can probably use. The shard should power a small healing bell on its own."

"About what our own cutters suggested, but none of them felt confident attempting the cut," Yoris nodded. "Your standard fee?"

"That's fine with me. Since I've had no work for days, I can get started on it immediately. I should have it done sometime tomorrow afternoon."

"I'll have a page stop by a few times through the afternoon," he said, standing up as the Loreguard carefully wrapped the crystal and replaced it in the pack. "And we'll add on a hundred chits for your appraisal of the other crystal, which we can pay you now . . . if only so you can afford to eat tonight."

Kyven laughed without much humor. "That's about the truth. You know how much a loaf of bread costs right now?"

"Tell me about it," the old man grunted. "I buy my groceries at Falcon Square, and dear Father, are the merchants gouging for everything they're worth! Did your hunt go well?"

"Well, I didn't hunt," Kyven said. "I just needed something to do, so I went out by the river up where I couldn't hit anyone by accident and shot at targets. I might start hunting soon, though, if the price of meat doesn't come down. I'm not doing anything else right now with no work, I guess I could go across the river and try my luck out in the forest northwest of town."

"Just be careful, because you're not the only one with that idea," Yoris said. "There's been quite a few accidental shootings over the week, one hunter shooting another thinking he's a deer."

Kyven chuckled. "Amateurs," he said. "Deer sound nothing like men. And if there are really that many up there, there won't be a deer anywhere near them."

"You're an avid hunter, I see."

"When I tried my hand prospecting after buying out my contract, I learned very fast, because it was learn fast or starve after I lost my pack horse," he said. "Hunger is a powerful motivator for learning something."

Yoris laughed. "No doubt. Well, I need to be on my way, Master Kyven. Thanks for the help."

"Thanks for showing me something I never thought I'd ever see," he answered. "I didn't think a crystal like that was even possible, and then you drop it in my lap. It's something I won't forget anytime soon."

"Ah, yes, well, I do hope that you'll keep this in confidence? We'd like to quietly try to find where it was mined, and if word got out of a crystal like that existing, well, wherever it came from would be dismantled in short order as miners stampeded into the region and leveled every hillside looking for others like it."

"I can imagine," he nodded. "I'll keep it quiet, if only because you're such a good customer, Yoris."

He nodded, and Kyven escorted them from the shop, then closed the door and frowned. Someone, somewhere, had screwed up, and showed the Loremasters something that wouldn't exist naturally, a crystal that was absolutely perfect. And since it was both so large and also a rare green crystal, well, the Loremasters would definitely try to find out where it came from. A crystal that large could power a healing bell that could all but resurrect the dead, or heal an entire room full of men at the same time. Yoris' story about the minesite was nothing but fluff, for Kyven knew better, and he was fairly sure that Yoris did too . . . but most people believed crystals were a naturally occurring mineral, like coal or iron ore, and would accept a story like that at face value.

Kyven took the crystal to his bench as Clover came back downstairs, and he sat down and put it in the holder. "Well, I have some work now," he told her absently as he moved the magnifying glass and adjusted the lamp over his desk. He already knew exactly how he needed to cut the crystal, and he studied it for a moment to lay out in his mind just how he needed to go about it to cut that large piece off the side that would refocus the interior angles of the crystal to actually use the internal flaw. It was a smooth, even planar fault that would actually benefit the crystal if it was cut specifically to utilize the fault as just an internal planar surface. "What's for dinner?"

"I don't know, but probably something I won't like," she answered.

"I guess I can go out and try my hand at hunting tomorrow instead of just target practice," he said. "If there's a deer left between here and the Blue Valley, anyway." He peered through the magnifying glass at the crystal, and adjusted it in the prongs. "You need to have a little talk with someone, sister."

"Oh?"

"That crystal Yoris brought to me wasn't natural," he declared. "It has the Loremasters very, very curious."

"They can be curious," Clover shrugged. "Would you give over on that?"

"What?"

"Appearing so ugly!"

He looked down at his human hand, then laughed lightly. "No, because it annoys you," he said with a slight smile, looking back at her.

"Don't make me do something about it, brother," she threatened with a sly smile.

"Biased."

"Haven't we established that?"

"I'd rather not have my claws getting in the way," he said. "It's easier to hold my tools this way." He picked up his chisel and hammer. "I think we can let Lightfoot out tonight, because I'm going out as well," he told her.

"Oh? Where?"

"The pubs and inns are starting to re-open, so I'm going to nose around a bit tonight," he answered. "I have to keep an eye on things, and you can pick up a lot of information from surly off-duty Loreguard who are drowning their sorrows in pubs."

"Ah. And what will Lightfoot be doing?"

"Whatever she wants. If we don't let her out, she's going to do something to one of us."

"That's possible," she chuckled. "What did Shario have to say?"

Kyven went over what Shario had said, about Flaur's intentions. "It's just good news for us. If the Loremasters have to deal with rebelling provinces, then it'll split their attention, and that just helps us. The Flaurens will only be helping us, and maybe we can help them."

"That we will, when they discover there is organized resistance beyond the Smoke Mountains," she nodded. "That will force the Loremasters to commit far more forces to maintaining their foothold than they are willing to send because of Flaur. If they openly go to war with Flaur, however, it might get touchy. If the Flaurens fail to sway the Georvans or the Alamari, or the Loremasters call on the northern kingdoms to send troops south, then the Flaurens may be fighting a superior force."

"No . . . I'm not sure they'd do that," Kyven mused as he made another cut. "The last thing the Loremasters want right now is mobilized Noraam armies that might turn on them when word gets out that they've broken every treaty they've ever made with the twelve kingdoms."

"It's all conjecture, and that's not our job, my brother," she told him easily. "How long do you intend to be out tonight?"

"There's still a sunset curfew, so no longer than that no matter what," he told her.

"I'll have Patches start dinner right now, then," she nodded, licking him lightly on the cheek.

He didn't finish the crystal, so he put it aside and ate dinner with the others, which was a happy and relaxed scene. Lucky had truly fit in with them, for he was amiable and generally carefree and happy, if a bit talkative. Tweak especially took a liking to him, for they had a couple of similar traits in that both of them were energetic and had good senses of humor. Watcher was still quiet and withdrawn, sitting right beside Clover and being given the lion's share of the meal, which he ate with quiet urgency. Watcher brought out the maternal instincts in both Clover and Patches, and since he'd come to the house, both of them had mothered him outrageously. He was frail both physically and mentally, trying to recover from the trauma and raw terror he had endured in that cage, so Kyven couldn't blame him for wanting to feel watched over and protected. Kyven himself still had a nearly phobic sense of panic rise up in him if he got too hungry, a wonderful gift to him thanks to Arthur Ledwell.

They wouldn't be here forever. As soon as Clover felt that Watcher was up to the journey, both he and Lucky would be shipped west, sent to Haven, but not yet. Watcher could barely walk up the stairs, and simply could not handle a journey of that magnitude. But, given the rapid pace at which he was recovering, it would only be a couple of weeks. Clover's healing magic and daily blessings were slowly but steadily restoring Watcher's body . . . but his mind would take longer to heal, and magic would not help that healing process.

After dinner, Kyven went out. He went to a tavern frequented by the craftsmen in his neighborhood, just four blocks away from his shop, called the Hammer and Anvil. Run by a former blacksmith who lost the lower part of his left arm in an accident and had to give up the craft, the place was built inside the owner's former forge and foundry. It wasn't that large, but it did a brisk business and was very popular with the local craftsmen. Veraad had brought Kyven here, and Kyven had found it a nice place to both relax and pick up information. Craftsmen gossiped quite a bit, and that information got around. And by tracking what the Loremasters were ordering from the craftsmen, it gave them an idea of what they were up to. Veraad was there, sitting at a table with a local gunsmith, Brenden, and a fellow cutter named Harn that ran a small yet respectable shop about five blocks from Kyven's own. "Kyv!" Veraad called, motioning him over. He sat down at the end of the table beside Brenden and shook a few hands. "I'm glad you came out."

"I'm glad I came out too," he said. "I've been keeping very close to my Arcans."

"I can understand that," Brenden grunted as he took a drink from his tankard. "When the Loreguard searched my shop, they nearly killed Bristletail, my serving Arcan. If one of my apprentices hadn't have got between her and the soldier, he'd have shot her."

"Why?" Veraad asked in surprise.

"Because she's a black wolf," he answered. "They're looking for some black-furred Arcan that's supposed to be a Shaman, and they felt her having black fur was enough reason to kill her. I had to talk very fast and show them her collar was real before they shot her dead and dragged us all to the Black Keep as Masked."

"Insanity," Harn growled. "I think they've completely gone off their porches over this."

"Well, there is a Shaman on the loose in Avannar, Harn," Veraad said. "Who else could set fire to the Loremaster's building?"

"I won't debate that point, but the insanity is all this other shit," he grunted. "They're never going to catch a Shaman by setting up roadblocks and aggravating the fuck out of us law-abiding citizens. Odds are he's long gone. If they really wanna catch him, they should just set up around the island. That's where he seems to go, and it ain't like Arcans are overly smart."

"Then how did he get in twice?" Kyven asked.

"Cause the Loremasters got stupid," he answered. "Arcans ain't that smart, but a few of them are clever, and they didn't take that into account. And thanks to them being stupid, we all have to be back in our shops by sundown."

"I can agree to that," Brenden chuckled as a barmaid wandered over to them. Her name was Didi, and she was the owner's daughter, a pretty young thing who was openly courted by quite a few regulars in the tavern.

"Ale please," Kyven told her, to which she nodded and scurried off. "I can agree to that too," Kyven added. "Sundown curfew, food hard to find and outrageously expensive, no work at all since the crackdown, being treated like a criminal at every checkpoint, Loreguard looking at me like I'll pull a Shaman out of my pants and have it kill them any second, it's getting old."

"You haven't got any work either?" Harn asked, to which Kyven shook his head.

"Well, I just got a contract a bit ago," Kyven added. "Another Loremaster job. At least this time I didn't have other orders in front of it to make them mad."

"It's been the other way around for me," Veraad said. "I've had a brisk business in shockrods and intruder sensors."

"I've had a run on my pistols and short-barrel muskets," Brenden added. "People buying protection against both the boogey-man Shaman the Loreguard go on and on about and the thieves. They've gotten bad."

"People are getting hungry," Harn grunted. "Not everyone can afford five chits for a slice of cheese, so the desperate are starting to steal. If the food merchants aren't stepped on, and soon, the Loremasters are going to be looking at chaos and riots in the streets."

"Why haven't the guilds of the food makers put a stop to it?" Veraad complained.

"Are you kidding? They're making a killing," Harn grunted. "They took a temporary disruption in the food trade and inflated it way out of proportion to charge outrageous prices. Typical guild skullduggery."

"Careful there, friend, you have another member of your guild right there," Brenden chuckled, pointing at Kyven.

"I agree with him," Kyven grunted. "The guilds are encouraging it, but they'll get theirs when it's over. The Loremaster that contracts me was very unhappy, so the Loremasters are aware of what the greengrocers and butchers and bakers are doing. They forget, the Loremasters have to eat too, and gouging people is going to get them gouged when their greed gets the better of them and they try it on the first Loremaster that's not in uniform."

"I hope it comes soon. I admit I'm making a profit in the current panic, but most of it's being eaten up by food costs. I shudder at those whose business has dried up."

"Well, you'll get business from me when I run out of pre-made shockrods," Veraad said. "But crystals . . . they're coming up short."

"How so?" Harn asked curiously.

"I tried to buy some yesterday in preparation, but the brokers are all closed down. Everywhere. All over the city. I don't know why."

"That would explain why we've had no work," Harn growled, as Brenden leaned aside to allow Didi to set a tankard down in front of Kyven. He handed her a single chit, and she smiled and took it before scurrying off. "If the alchemists are busy, you'd think we'd be busy."

"Yeah, but I can't buy any crystals," Veraad said. "I'm going to the broker's guild tomorrow and try to find out what's going on. I need to warn my guild as well, maybe they can put an official inquiry in to get some answers."

"I'm surprised there isn't one already," Kyven noted.

"There probably is, but since they have all these controls and checkpoints, we're just not getting any information," Brenden predicted. "I for one don't have a message receiver machine, so the only way I get information from the guild is when I go there. I sure as hell ain't going to spend two hours trying to get to the north bank to check in with the guild."

"Send an apprentice," Kyven chuckled. "They can wait in the lines and just deliver a note."

"Now that's an idea," Harn said. "I'll send Bucky over to the cutter's guild tomorrow and tell them I want to know what the hell's going on. If all the brokers are closed, this may be another guild attempt to drive up crystal prices like they did some twenty years ago. Wait for demand to peak, then open and charge triple list."

"Hmph," Kyven snorted. "I'll just go around the guild."

"How can you go around the guild?"

"Because I can get them from the source," he answered. "I'll send a message to my partner Timble in Atan. Our shop there has extensive contacts with the miners. I'll buy the crystals directly from them and have Timble ship them to me."

"Now then, I think we might be able to do some business, Kyv," Veraad said brightly. "How fast do you think you could get fifty crystals suitable for a shockrod here?"

"Three or four days," he answered with a shrug.

"Well then, if I can't get any crystals through the brokers, perhaps I'll buy them from you."

"Sure. Come talk to me if you can't get them another way. Timble can buy them for me and ship them on a post wagon."

They sat around and nursed their ale after that, but not much more of interest was said, just a rehashing of the current state of affairs in Avannar. But the closing of the brokers was rather curious. Either it was the guild doing what Harn suggested and trying to make demand reach a fever pitch so they could gouge, or the guild was forced to make the brokers close for some other reason. Possibly the Loremasters had something to do with it.

Kyven made his way home just before sunset, and entered the shop through the back door and all but running into the arms of Lightfoot. The small gray tabby gave him a rough and short embrace, then licked his cheek. "Well, what did I do to earn such an honor?" he asked lightly, putting his human arm around her.

"Thanks," she said simply, and she really didn't need to say any more.

"It was let you out or have you kill someone in a tiff," he told her, which made her smile slightly. "But you will be careful out there, understand young lady?"

"I will," she promised.

"What do you have planned?"

"The Councilor," she answered. "He's still alive. That's unfinished business."

He chuckled. "So you're going to go lurk over by his house and see if he's brave enough to show up?"

She nodded. "It's been a week. He may feel comfortable now to return."

"Careful, kitty, you're about to use way more words than your mouth can handle," he said with a teasing smile.

She said nothing, just extended a claw on one finger and tapped it lightly on the tip of his nose, which made him laugh.

After a short meal and spending a little time with the boys, Kyven retreated to an upstairs room and engaged himself in the other main project he'd undertaken since last week. Somehow, the shadow fox had pulled him into the shadows and then caused them to emerge from shadows at a different place, and he was absolutely convinced that what she did was not some exercise of her power as a spirit. He had felt it, felt it, deep in the core of himself, and that told him that what she did was an exercise of her shadow powers, not her spirit powers. Those were the same powers he had, and she had flat-out told him that he had no handicap when it came to the power he gained from being a Shadow Fox Arcan. That meant that he could learn to step into the shadows and emerge in a different place too, and he meant to discover that power. If he could do that, then he would be a demon unleashed on the Loremasters, able to circumvent all their protections and defenses and literally walk through their headquarters at whim. No secret would be safe from him, and that meant that the Arcans would all but have a man sitting in on the most secret meetings of the Circle.

So, ever his last invasion of their headquarters, he had been spending at least two hours a day up in this dark room, with only a dim alchemical lamp blocked off by two chair backs to provide deep, dark shadows. He sat within one, the one cast by the opposite chair on the far wall was the shadow to which he wanted to jump. He sat on the floor, surrounded by shadow, and did his best to try to recall exactly how it had felt when the fox had done it, and try to duplicate that ability. There had been two stages to it, he recalled, first the feeling of the shadow going through him, then the feeling of it enveloping him. He remembered how the shadows seemed to have consumed everything around him, how he couldn't see anything, and then it was like he was in a small, dark room . . . then the shadows receded and he was somewhere else.

In the week since he'd been trying, he had made some progress. His awareness of the shadows had increased. He could now not only see them, but sense them, almost feel them around him even when they weren't touching him. They were surrounding him, comforting him almost like old friends, and he felt secure and comfortable within the shadowed room. Yesterday, for just a second or two on two occasions, he had felt the cool sensation that usually flowed through his fur flow through him instead, in a way that was unusual but not dangerous, which encouraged him because he felt he was making some progress. The fox had said that he was the shadow, and the shadows were his friend . . . and since he'd started this determined training, he saw she was right. The shadows welcomed him, they were his allies and his protectors, and they seemed eager to answer his call. That was why he had learned to meld into the shadows without having any inkling of what he was doing or how to do it, it was why the shadows allowed him to control them, manipulate them. They didn't see him as a hostile outside force, they saw him as one of their own, and they cooperated with him willingly. He wasn't just a man, or an Arcan, he was also part shadow, and that was the part of him with which he had to make contract if he wanted to learn how to move through the shadows from one place to another.

After nearly an hour, he again felt that strange sensation after almost meditative concentration, not pushing or forcing, just trying to fully get in touch with the shadows around him. He felt that sensation of coolness first wash over his fur, telling him he had melded into the shadow, then it invaded into his very skin and saturated itself into him. The cool sensation then washed through his entire body, almost like how it felt when he used the amulet to take an outward human appearance, and the instant he felt it he focused on it, focused on maintaining it with all his concentration. He opened his eyes and opened his eyes to the spirits and looked down through the floor to see Patches, Tweak, Clover, Watcher, and Lucky playing some kind of game around the main table, but he then focused on the shadows within the room. He looked to the shadow opposite his, focused the entirety of his concentration on that shadow, and tried to trigger that sense of the shadows enveloping him he remembered from before, beckoned to the shadows with his mind and tried to have them swallow him up and move him across the room.

For nearly an hour, he tried. He managed to maintain that sense of the shadows moving through him, but he couldn't get them to move him to the other shadow. He tried for so long that the door opened and Clover looked in. He looked at her, but saw that she was looking at him with surprised eyes. "What is it, sister?" he asked.

She laughed. "I see you learned a new trick, brother!" she called.

"What do you mean?"

She turned and opened her eyes to the spirits, and a magical pool of liquid seemed to swirl into being. It smoothed out and solidified into a mirror, and he looked at himself through it.

He was a shadow!

There was absolutely no mistaking it. His form was visible and apparent, and his eyes were visible with their green glow, but it was also unmistakable that he was opaque, that the wall behind him was visible through his body. He was a three dimensional shadow, with border but without features, a silhouette that was somewhat transparent and darker than the shadow in which he sat.

Clover advanced up to him and boldly reached her hand out towards his chest, sliding it through his silky fur on his chest, which was no longer white. "Amazing. I can feel you clearly, but I can see through you, and you aren't there to my spirit sight. I can only see you with my mundane eyes," she murmured. "I can still see your eyes as well, when they are open to the spirits. Another form of hiding?"

"I'm not sure, but it feels different," he answered, trying to meld into the shadow, but failing. "I can't melt into the shadows like this, in this . . . this . . . shadow form."

"It's like you're a living shadow," she noted, looking him up and down. "But unlike a normal shadow, I can touch you."

"And I can touch you," he said after putting his paws on her shoulders, then sliding them down to cup her small breasts brazenly.

She gave him a slight look. "Don't start something you may not be able to finish, brother," she warned with a narrow little smile.

"Hey, I'm experimenting here. Don't lose your objectivity," he said teasingly as he kneaded her breasts through her simple shirt.

"Insatiable," she chided with a throaty laugh.

"Curious, actually," he said clinically, moving his hands down to her sides. "You feel no different at all. Your shirt feels like a shirt, your fur feels just the same. And I feel the same?"

"Yes, though you appear different, you feel no different," she said as he dug his hands up under his shirt to put them on her furry waist. "I wonder," she mused. "You can control shadow, change its shape. Can you do the same to yourself when like that?"

He hadn't thought of that. "I, I don't know. Maybe," he said, stepping back on his Arcan legs and holding his hand out. He focused on the hand, but more to the point, he focused on the shadow that was his hand, and he tried to control it. He bade it to elongate, like a long shadow across a cobbled street at sunset.

Clover gasped as Kyven felt a curious fluidity, like when the amulet the fox gave him transformed him from one shape to another, and his fingers lengthened to a length that was anatomically impossible, nearly two rods long. "I think that answers your question, sister," he said as he had his hand flatten out. Again, it felt fluid, liquid, and there was no pain as his hand literally flattened out to the width of a pancake. Clover reached out and touched his flattened hand, and then she probed it with her fingertips. "It feels . . . pliable, like clay," she reported, kneading her fingers into his altered, shadowy hand. "But I still feel fur, and I can feel your claws," she added, touching his wicked claws. "I bet you could slide your hand under a door."

"I could slide all of me under a door," he said with a sudden smile. "Or between the bars of a jail cell, or into a pipe. This will let me get past some obstacles."

"At the cost of being visible," she warned.

"Well, if I'm lucky, I won't have to worry about that," he said. "If I can learn how my totem moved me through the shadows, well, let them try and stop me," he said with a chuckle.

"But this is progress, brother," she told him, pinching his flat finger. "You have learned a new way to use the gifts she gave you. Any increase in knowledge is an increase in wisdom, and you can never be too wise."

"I just wish I could be half as wise as you, my sister," he said honestly. "You are what I believe a Shaman should be."

"Such a sweet talker," she chuckled, putting her arms on his shoulders. Kyven lost his concentration, and his hand almost painfully reverted to normal as the shadow bled out of his fur.

"Guess I need to practice this until I get the hang of it," he chuckled. "But I think I can do that tomorrow. I still haven't looked over the messages yet."

"Nothing of real note came in, but I did send on the fact that the brokers are all closed to our friends," she told him.

"Good, because I think I'm going to be busy tomorrow morning. I'm going to set up on that high building that overlooks the Loremasters' bridge and see if I can pick off someone important in the morning."

"So soon?"

"I think I'm ready, so it's time. I can't let them get too complacent, after all," he smiled. "I'll have to try to slink around in an animal illusion, and hope they don't take much notice of a stray dog."

"You will be careful, my brother," she warned. "Right now, they're shooting almost anything that moves before even seeing what it is."

"I know. I can go over the rooftops up til I get to the crossing of Ring Street and the Chain Way, but then I'll have to come down and risk the streets. I know keeping them stirred up will make it harder to get information, but I can't ignore the fact that if I can keep them off balance and disorganized, hopefully kill their leaders, it'll make it easier for our brothers and sisters on the other side of the mountains. I have to do everything I can to help the Arcans, even if doing one thing makes it harder to do the other."

"You will simply find a way," she smiled at him. "As your spirit said, you are clever and resourceful, my brother."

"We are clever and resourceful. I'm just a member of a team, sister."

"It's so nice to be appreciated," she hummed as she slid a little deeper into his arms.

"Every day," he said, nuzzling her.

Lightfoot left not long after sunset, and the house settled down for the night. Lucky went to bed early, Patches lured Tweak upstairs, and Clover also went to bed, leaving Kyven with Watcher as he locked up the shop. Watcher was, as usual, watching him, quite intently, and he looked a little unsettled as Kyven put his arm over the boy's shoulders and helped him to his feet, to escort him upstairs. "Shaman," he said hesitantly.

"Yes, little one?" he asked as Watcher gained his feet, and they walked towards the stairs.

"Is, is it really true what Patches said about you?"

"Well, I'm not sure what that is, but I think I have a good idea," he said mildly. "Yes, young one, I'm a human."

"Really?" he asked in surprise, giving him a look.

He nodded. "This Arcan body was what you might call a very direct and brutal lesson by my totem, the spirit that gives me my power. She wanted me to understand the Arcans, and decided that the most effective way was to make me an Arcan myself. It was a very . . . unpleasant lesson," he said after a pause. "But it worked. My time as an Arcan showed me how my people treat yours, and now I've dedicated my life to freeing the Arcans and helping them any way I can. I am a Shaman now," he declared calmly.

"And this talk of a war, you're siding against the humans?"

"I'm siding against the ones who are wrong," he said simply. "The spirits don't hate the humans, my young one. They're actually very unhappy that war is coming, but they see no other way. The Loremasters are trying to do something terrible, and they can't be allowed to do it. The spirits don't want a war between the Arcans and the humans, but they see that a war between the Arcans and the Loremasters is necessary. They are our true enemies, Watcher. Not all the humans, just the Loremasters, and those who believe as they do."

"But all the humans hate us."

"Not all," he said calmly as they started up the stairs, which would be a long and slow process. Kyven did not carry Watcher up, since the exercise was good for him. "There are many humans in the Masked, which is a group that tries to free Arcan slaves. They believe that Arcans aren't the animals that others think they are, and they believe that it's a terrible thing what the humans have done to the Arcans, so they work to free them and make their lives better. Not all humans are bad, my young one, just as not all Arcans are good. You have to take each race as they come, and then see where they stand after you get to know them a little bit."

Watcher paused on the steps, his face thoughtful.

Kyven smiled. "You've known me a week, my young one. Does your opinion of me change now that you know my secret?"

"Well, it makes me wonder a little bit," he answered as they started again. "I wouldn't have thought you were a human. I mean, you're a Shaman," he said simply.

"I know. I'm the only human Shaman that we know of," he affirmed with a gentle smile, a hand on Watcher's back to steady him as he wobbled a bit. "And if you can't tell me from Clover, well, that makes me very happy, young one. I only learned about a year ago that I'm a Shaman, and I had a lot to learn about it. My spirit didn't give me much time to learn, and I think she actually cut a few corners. She taught me a great deal about my magic, but not a whole lot about what it means to be a Shaman. Actually, I'm still learning what it means to be a Shaman. If I'm acting like Clover, then I'm doing it right."

"What does it mean to be a Shaman, Shaman?"

Kyven chuckled. "Shaman serve, my young one," he told him immediately. "That is our purpose. We serve those who need us. We serve the spirits by doing their will, and we serve the Arcans by being here for you, doing whatever we can to help. If the humans would allow it, we would serve them as well."

"Well, that's what you do, not what it means."

"That is what it means, Watcher," he said simply. "Shaman serve. That is the essence of a Shaman, one who serves the needs of those who need him. The will of the spirits means more to us than our will. The needs of the people mean more to us than our needs. The spirits teach us wisdom so we can represent them in the world, and also so we can be better at what we do. And what we do, my young one, is serve."

"It almost sounds like slavery."

Kyven chuckled. "I've noticed that myself, Watcher. My totem spirit, well, to be nice about it is to say that she's not actually very nice. The honest truth about it is she's an evil, cold, ruthless bitch and I hate her, but that doesn't matter. She knows I hate her, but she also knows that I will do my very best for her, because she needs me, and I understand just why she needs me and what I'm doing . . . and that means far more than my own personal feelings. I serve because I want to serve. I could walk away right here and right now, and all it would cost me is losing the chance to be human again . . . and I think I could live with that. I've actually gotten used to being an Arcan. But I won't, because you need me, because the Arcans need me. And maybe even the humans need me. The needs of others matter more to me than my own."

"A spirit can be evil?" he asked in surprise.

"You take everyone as they come, my young one," he said simply. "Even the spirits. The spirit I serve is evil, and there's no denying it. But how she is evil is what counts. She cares just as much about the Arcans and the humans as the other spirits, so in that respect she's just like the other spirits. The evil comes in with her personality. She's a spirit of guile and deceit, my young one, and she cannot go against her nature. She's lied to me, manipulated me, and deceived me since the moment I realized she was more than just a hallucination. She doesn't care about me in the slightest, and if I were to die, she wouldn't shed a single tear, she'd just be annoyed that all the effort she put into training me was wasted. All she cares about is that I obey, and in that regard, she has nothing to worry about. Even though I hate her, despite everything she's done to me, I will serve her faithfully, because she needs me."

Watcher looked up at him. "I think you're too good to that mean spirit, Shaman," he said. "You give her everything, and she gives you nothing. That's not fair."

"Life isn't fair, young one. And sometimes, there can be no happy ending," he said sagely as they reached the top of the stairs. "But, she does give back to me. Not in ways you'd expect or notice, but she does give back to me. Now off to bed with you, young one. You need your rest."

"Good night, Shaman," he said, reaching up. Kyven gave him a gentle hug, and nuzzled him lightly. "Will you bless me before I go to bed?"

"Of course," he smiled, putting his hand on Watcher's shoulder and reciting the ritual blessing. After he was blessed, Kyven walked him to the bedroom where all the Arcans slept, they walked past the shivering pallet where Patches was entertaining Tweak and they were trying to be quiet about it so they didn't disturb Lucky, and he knelt down and helped the frail raccoon into his pallet. "Good night, young one. Sleep well."

"I hope the spirits bless you, Shaman," he said simply from the pallet.

He chuckled patting the raccoon on the shoulder. "They do, every day I wake up and see that you're getting better. Now go to sleep."

Watcher nodded and settled down into the pallet. Kyven watched him close his eyes, then he stood up and made his way out of the room.

Clover was already in bed when he ambled into his room. She sat up and looked at him as he sat down on the edge of the bed, yawning and showing off his impressive canines. "Is he alright?"

"Watcher? Got up the stairs without much trouble," he answered. "I think he'll be well enough to travel next week. I was thinking of having him sent to Virren and Timble and let them nurse him back to full health before he went on."

"I'm sure Virren would be willing to take him in," Clover nodded. "But it's not safe for him to be shipped to Atan, brother. He's too weak, and being put under control of a kennelmaster might do him mental harm."

"I wasn't thinking of shipping him with a kennel, sister. I was thinking of . . . something else."

She blinked and gave him a look. "No," she declared. "We understood the risks when we volunteered, Kyven. You will not send us away because you fear it's getting too dangerous."

He sighed. "Damn your wisdom," he said ruefully, which earned him a playful swat. "It is getting dangerous, Clover. You have to promise me one thing."

"What?"

"When I feel that your lives are in imminent danger, you will leave. I don't worry about you and Lightfoot as much as Tweak and Patches. Shario was quite right in pointing out that they can't protect themselves the way we can. When I think it's reached the boiling point, I will send them home. And I won't trust them with anyone but you."

"I . . . well, in that case, I would be cruel to decline," she said. "But I would come back."

"And I'd be happy to have your help, sister. Like I said, I trust your ability to protect yourself, and we make a very good team. I'm just worried about the kids."

"Then when you feel that it is too dangerous, I'll take them to Atan and return," she promised.

"That makes me feel better," he told her, leaning back until he was laying in her lap. She smiled down at him and dragged her fingers through the fur on his chest, then her fingers started tracing lower.

"Don't start something you can't finish," he teased lightly.

She laughed. "Oh, I think I can handle you, my brother," she retorted, leaning down and licking him playfully on the nose and muzzle. "You still have no endurance," she teased.

"That sounds like a challenge, sister," he declared. "But a challenge that'll have to hold until tomorrow. I would like to get some sleep tonight. I have to be up early in the morning."

"Then we'll just have a little fun instead of proving that you have no stamina," she smiled, licking at his muzzle.

"And you accuse me of being insatiable," he taunted.

"You started this," she told him, flicking him on the nose. "Think I couldn't let you pawing me go unchallenged?"

"Well, I'm a man that lives up to his mistakes," he said lightly, putting his hands behind his head and looking up at her with a sober expression. "So, you'd better get to work."

She laughed, leaning further down and licking him sensually on his nose, which made his tail shiver. "I think I'm getting somewhere," she noted playfully.

"Keep going and find out," he answered.



It was a warm, muggy summer morning, early enough for the only light to illuminate the streets below were alchemical lamps, set to automatically shut off when there was sufficient light streaming in from above. Roving patrols of Loreguard moved between stationary checkpoints, and all of them were edgy and alert.

But, like most men, their attention was focused on the ground, focused on what was near them, on what they could reach.

They never looked up.

Kyven moved with quiet yet confident stealth along the rooftops, for in old Avannar, the rooftops were so close together that one could easily jump from one to another, and the streets were narrow enough that one could navigate the entire southwest sector of the city without having to come down to the streets. Lightfoot had been the one to teach him the rooftop avenues, routes traveled not just by the cat Arcan, but also by Shario's thieves. Kyven moved quietly yet confidently, hidden behind an illusion that made him appear to be a large cat. Since he was carrying the rifle, he couldn't meld into the shadows to move invisibly. But, the illusion he chose was very small, which made him very hard to see. Unfortunately, though, he couldn't get to where he was going along the rooftops. The Chain Way and Ring Street were both too wide to cross by rooftop, so from there, about eight blocks from the river, Kyven had to come down from the rooftops and move on the streets, as the buildings past Ring Street towards the river were large and of different heights, and therefore would be too difficult to traverse.

There were ten men in the intersection of the two large streets, a checkpoint to catch those breaking the curfew that would lift at sunrise which would then stop everyone on the street to search them and log who they were and where they were going, part of the Loremasters' attempts to track him down. They were attentive, paying attention to all four streets from which the intersection, and more than one man stopped to look at the large tabby cat that jumped from a overhanging beam to a porch, then to a horse rail, then to the ground. The cat looked at them, and when one man moved towards it, it turned and ran away fearfully. The behavior wasn't unusual for a cat, so the men thought nothing more of it.

Behind that illusion, Kyven held the rifle in both hands to keep it from hitting anything and stalked slowly and quietly down the street, his padded feet making no sound and his claws being held up and away to prevent them from clacking and moving at a slow pace which would allow the cat illusion behind which he hid keep up with him without it looking unnatural. He glanced back to see that the Loreguard hadn't bothered to chase down the cat, which told him that the Loreguard didn't believe that he could hide in the guise of an animal. So far, the only real idea of his power they had is the ability to conjure shadowy darkness, vanish into that darkness, to turn invisible in the night, and also to take on the guise of humans and use their visages to slip through their building. Luckily for him, they hadn't considered the idea that he could take on the guise of an animal . . . or perhaps they believed that he could transform himself into humans, literally become them, rather than hide behind an illusion of them. That Loremaster woman had touched him, and in that touch she had to believe that he was human . . . or at least was human enough. They had no idea of what he could do, and their assumptions were working in his favor.

He had to agree with his totem. Illusion, the very power of illusion, was one of the most powerful forces, because the nature of it made him mysterious . . . and that mystery protected him. To never reveal the extent of his powers and abilities, to make them guess at what he could do rather than know what he could do, it was its own form of protection, and it made him seem more powerful than he was.

The building he intended to use appeared on the street ahead. It was half a block from the river, and its four story height would give him an unimpeded view of the area at the base of the bridge, where a contingent of Loreguard would stop anyone trying to get to the island to inspect them . . . and that stop to inspect would afford Kyven the opportunity to take a shot at them. The impressive townhouse, in a style called a redstone because of the brick facing, had an angled roof with a flat crest that was about a foot wide, and that was the perch he was going to use. He slung the rifle as he went around the house to the back, having to jump a fence, then he started clambering slowly yet confidently up the side of the building, using his claws to gain solid purchase on the wood wall of the rear of the building; the red brick facing was only on the front. He climbed up to the slate roof, pulled himself atop it carefully so as not to dislodge any slate tiles, then climbed up to the flat apex of the roof. The roof was the tallest structure for about five blocks, which gave him a commanding view in addition to preventing anyone from spotting him unless they had a spyglass . . . and he didn't doubt that there were scouts in the Loremaster headquarters, on the roof and in the towers, who were doing just that. That was one of the reasons Kyven had climbed the back of the building, so he could come up the roof on the protected side. He utilized an illusion of the roof itself once he was at the apex, a covering blanket of illusion that allowed him to settle in a vantage where he was laying partially on the angled roof and partially on its flat top, where he could brace the rifle. He maintained the illusion as he adjusted the scope and looked through it, towards the river, and saw that he had been correct. The height of the building and the angle of the roof was almost perfect, and allowed him a clear view of the base of the bridge to the Loremasters' island headquarters. Thank the Trinity the Loremasters had insisted on a wide plaza at the base of that bridge. Their prevention of anyone building a building close to the landing gave him a vantage of the landing and the Loreguard soldiers stationed at the base of the bridge that wasn't blocked by a rooftop.

He was in position. All he had to do now was wait.

The sky slowly painted itself in the colors of the predawn, going from black to murky charcoal, and then the purple bloomed from the east towards the west. It was followed by dark blue, and then a greenish tinge, as the sky went through the colors of the rainbow in preparation for the appearance of the sun. Below, on the streets, and in the house beneath him, Kyven could see and hear the common citizens stirring, awakening, preparing to live another day in the city of Avannar. People were standing on their porches, near their doors, waiting for sunrise so they could leave their homes and begin their day. As the sun peeked over the eastern buildings, people did begin to leave their homes, and the streets became populated as they endured the aggravation of being stopped, searched, and questioned on every street corner by Loreguard checkpoints. Kyven remained quiet, hidden under his illusion of the roof, rendering him effectively invisible as long as he didn't move around too much, stayed within the boundaries of his illusion. All he had to do was be patient, because he knew that many important member of the Loremasters and most of the high-ranking Loreguard didn't stay within the headquarters. The majority of the Councilors did live in the headquarters, the highest-ranking ones did, but the lower-ranking ones and the important Loremasters that served the Circle did not. They lived in the city, and eventually, they would come to the bridge to go to work.

He didn't have to wait as long as he thought. Looking through the magnifying scope, he saw a face he recognized approach the bridge checkpoint and barrier. It was that woman, the one that had an unhealthy interest in young pages, and he remembered that she was called to audience with a Councilor.

That qualified as high-ranking to him.

He settled himself down completely, relaxing as he slowly, carefully flipped the lever that served as the safety, then actuated the bolt that chambered the first round, a bullet that had been specifically prepared for this. Since he would be leaving something behind, and he might lose a brass casing if it bounced off a roof and to the ground where it would be unrecoverable, those were something they could inspect and also investigate using alchemy. Clover had wiped the bullets and casings clean of any trace they could use to, say, use alchemy to divine a name or face of whoever had touched that item. Since Clover had used her magic on them, they had not been touched with anything but a pair of linen-wrapped tongs . . . and loading them into the rifle using those tongs had challenged his highly trained manual dexterity. As he shifted, he opened his eyes to the spirits and called down a bubble of silence that only covered the rifle, so he could still hear yet the rifle shot would be covered. He then looked carefully through the scope, using his mundane sight to watch as the woman, sitting in an open carriage, stopped at the checkpoint. Her back was to him, wearing her elegant Loremaster dress that, he recalled, showed off quite a bit of her cleavage. The wagon was stopped, and she stood rigidly for a moment . . . .

A fatal moment.

Slowly, easily, he set the crosshairs just over her head, understanding that at that distance, the downward angle would put the bullet somewhere in her middle. He pulled his clawed finger back on the trigger, until he was surprised to feel it buck against his muzzle, a report that had no sound. He lost his sighting of the woman for a second as the rifle recoiled, but he quickly pulled it back down to see if his aim was true.

He clearly saw the sudden bloom of red just between her shoulder blades. She pitched forward off her elegant open carriage and between the two horses, and the horses skittered a little. The men rushed towards her, thinking she had fallen, but then there were startled shouts of alarm audible even from his vantage point when they got her out and realized she had a bullet hole in her back.

Instant chaos.

Alarm horns blew, mirrored by a gong in the Loremaster headquarters, and there were suddenly soldiers running all over the place, pointing in every direction. Men were looking towards the alleys, and a contingent of Loreguard were rushing across the bridge. One of them, he could see from his scope, was wearing the insignia of a General officer.

Target. Kyven worked the bolt to chamber another round, then remembered when he heard the brass hit the top of the roof to pick up the casing before settling himself over his rifle and starting again.

Kyven saw the man was running, and running towards him. Just like with daggers, he needed to lead the man, so he put the crosshairs of the rifle at his feet, moving it with steady, exacting grace as he kept the crosshair set right at the man's boot. He knew that the man would literally run right into the path of the bullet. He again gently squeezed the trigger, then felt the rifle buck against his shoulder as he lost sight of the man. He brought it back down just in time to see the man pitch forward, writhing on the ground, and then the first thin screams of pain drifted up to Kyven's ears. His men staggered to a halt then rushed back to him, turning him over to give Kyven just enough view to see that his bullet had struck the man almost right between the collar bones, just at the base of his neck. The man writhed, his boots scrabbling on the stones of the bridge, then he fell unnaturally still, a blood flowing down towards the base as it followed grade of the bridge.

A high-ranking Loremaster and a general of the Loreguard, dead.

A successful attack.

Just to keep the other men on their toes, Kyven chambered another round and fired it into the throng of Loreguard. He missed the first two shots, as the men reacted to the screaming whines of the bullets hitting the bridge, then he hit a man in the shoulder with the third shot. The other men seemed to realize then that the attacker was still there when they saw a line of blood fly away from a man that suddenly dropped to the ground, and they dove for cover. It was here where Kyven saw that if he kept firing, who he could hit and who he couldn't would give away his position, so he stopped firing, slid down out of sight on the roof, then created an illusion of a large black cat to hide him as he slid down to the eaves. He hooked into the wood of the building and clambered down, dropping nearly ten rods to the garden behind the house, then he rushed out of the garden and back out onto the streets.

The clanging gong and horns had everyone on the street nervous, and they were milling around, talking to each other, even as the checkpoints at the corners bunkered down, listening to instructions being screamed at them from their alchemical talkers, the way the central headquarters relayed instructions to the roving patrols. Kyven slipped past several of these checkpoints as the men within seemed uncertain as to what to do, but by the time he reached the intersection of Ring Street and the Chain Way, they finally had themselves organized. The checkpoint there was forcing everyone to go back home and lock themselves inside, and they were honest in saying that there was a maniac with a musket or pistol running around shooting people, which made the citizens more than willing to run back home to where they felt it was safe. Kyven used an alternative means to get back onto the rooftops once he snuck past the main checkpoint, the black cat ducking fearfully into an alley, and then once he was out of sight, the black cat seemed to climb up the side of a brothel with impossible speed, until it was up on the rooftop pathways thieves used to get around the southwestern sector of the city.

Kyven breathed a sigh of relief when he gained the rooftops. He was in a position where he couldn't be blindsided, where he wasn't surrounded by Loreguard soldiers. Up here, he could stay out of sight, and if they did somehow detect him, he could get out of the line of fire, had avenues of escape not available to him on the ground that didn't force him to fight . . . and fighting was usually his last resort.

By means of the rooftops, Kyven moved faster, but still carefully, staying out of sight of the streets by running the middles of the roofs, only coming to the edges to jump from roof to roof. He traversed the length of Jewel Way, then crossed Moon Street, then he turned and jumped onto his own roof after bounding over the roof of the chandler and the whorehouse. Lightfoot had left the attic window open, and it was by that means that Kyven got into the house. He didn't dismiss the illusion until he was well away from the window, completely out of the attic and on the stairs leading down, then he called out as he came down to the second floor. "Clover!" he called. "Patches!"

Lightfoot padded in from the room they shared, and Kyven started when he saw dried blood on her shoulder. He dropped the rifle and put his hands on her. "Dear Trinity, are you alright?" he asked in concern, touching her shoulder.

"Shot," she said simply. "Clover fixed it."

"I told you to be careful!"

"It was worth it," she said with a toothy little smile. "I got him."

"You killed the Councilor?" he asked, and she nodded simply.

"He came home," she announced.

"I don't know if I should kiss you or wring your pretty little neck!" he said with a rueful laugh, hugging her to him. "Now go clean up, while I go put this where they won't find it."

"What happened?"

"I got that Loremaster woman that likes little boys and a man wearing general's insignia at the bridge," he told her as he picked up the rifle. "Then I took a few shots at the soldiers before it gave away my position, then I came home. It was actually pretty easy. Tweak!" he boomed as he came down into the shop.

The ferret wasn't the only one that came towards the stairs as he came down. He removed the little pouch slung from the butt of the rifle, where he stored the spent casings, and handed it to him. "I need a few more," he grinned toothily.

"We heard the alarms," Clover chuckled. "We weren't sure if that was you or Lightfoot's handiwork."

"Mine," he said. "I killed that woman that took an unwholesome interest in me when she thought I was a little boy, and a man wearing a General's epaulets. Then I took a few more shots at the soldiers to keep them on their toes, and came home. It was pretty easy."

"No trouble getting back and forth?"

He shook his head. "Lightfoot taught me well," he chuckled, squeezing her shoulder slightly. "I'm sure they're going crazy over there right now, and they may even have one of those little flying devices up in the air to search the rooftops for me."

"So, we become a nondescript shop for a while longer," Tweak grinned.

"At least until tomorrow," he said. "Tomorrow night, me and Lightfoot are going . . . out."

"Where?" she asked.

"General Bren Fourpost, commander of Loreguard forces in the Free Territories," he answered. "He lives on the north bank, near the guild of chandlers. I'm sure there are some papers in his house that might tell us when they intend to start moving troops, if he doesn't know himself. I'm certain between the two of us, we can convince him to talk to us. While they're running all over the old city hunting for the sniper, it's the perfect time to sneak over there and see what secrets he keeps."

"That house? It's well defended," Clover warned.

He nodded. "That's why I need my fighting Arcan, to protect me from the soldiers. Trinity knows, I'm terrible when it comes to that kind of thing."

"You're bad, but improving," Lightfoot murmured.

"Thanks," he drawled, which made Lucky laugh. "While me and Lightfoot are snooping through the man's house, Clover, you need to do a little something."

"Oh? What is that?"

"Someone screwed up and let a crystal only a Shaman could make out where the Loremasters found it," he said. "We can use that to help Shario and the Flaurens. I think you're the only Shaman close enough to do it, so I need you to make at least five more crystals like the one they brought. At least thirty points and absolutely perfect."

"For what purpose?"

"Bait," he said simply.

She gave him a look, then smiled and nodded. "I understand, my brother," she said.

"I don't get it," Lucky fretted.

"It's simple, my young one," Clover said. "We will create those crystals and then have Shario's people send them north and plant them where the Loremasters will certainly discover them. Some place out of the way, say, Two Rivers. That will draw the Loreguard to the north, to find and secure the source of those amazing crystals, giving the Flaurens a little more breathing room when they declare independence."

"Precisely," Kyven nodded. "The Flaurens may not be our allies, but they are fighting the Loremasters, so we need to help them. And if word of those crystals became common knowledge, it'll flood the area with prospectors and miners, which will make it very hard for the Loremasters to march in an army and take over Two Rivers and keep it quiet. The Loreguard absolutely need Two Rivers if they want to invade Arcan territory, because it's the only relatively flat northern pass through the Smoke Mountains. If there's suddenly a huge boom of miners, prospectors, and those who live off them clogging up Two Rivers, they'll have to devote a large chunk of forces to holding the city. Every man we tie down on this side of the mountains is a man the Arcans don't have to fight on the other."

"So, Shario needs to ensure that the discovery of those crystals is very public," Clover mused.

"And it makes it a little more dangerous for us. They brought that crystal to me, after all, and they know I've seen it. Then, not days later, even more crystals that shouldn't exist are suddenly found. They might see that as more than a coincidence . . . but it's worth the risk if it ties up a good piece of the Loreguard army into trying to keep control of Two Rivers, and reduces the number of troops they can send west or south."

Clover sat down at the table, tapping her muzzle. "Brother," she said tentatively. "If our main goal is to tie up the Loreguard forces, then might not something major do a good part of that work for us?"

"What's on your mind?"

"If we want to help Flaur and also put a wrench in the plans of the Loremasters, then there is a way to do both, as well as possibly help our own cause. Remember the ship you attacked?"

Kyven saw almost immediately what she was saying. "No," he hissed. "That would get a lot of Arcans killed, sister! The Loreguard already have a huge army at Riyan, it wouldn't take them long to march them to wherever the Arcans revolted and crush them!"

"Ah, but that's the point," she said. "If a Shaman were to lead the Arcans and took them south, to Rallan, and then through the South Pass towards Nash, and there just happened to be an Arcan force there to attack them . . . ."

"You mean lead them into a trap," Kyven grunted. "Using slave Arcans as bait."

"It will come to this eventually, brother," she said grimly. "The plantation owners and farmers will never sell their Arcan workers. And the fate of those Arcans is in doubt when the humans discover the truth. You said it yourself, the humans may slaughter them all out of fear. This way, we give our enslaved people a chance, Kyven. An Arcan who dies in his own way, by a manner of his own choosing, is not afraid to die, you know this. We should give the slaves the choice, and that they will help both us and the Flaurens at the same time is simply bonus."

"I . . . I don't like it, sister."

"I don't either, but it's something we must consider. Will you present the idea to the council and Firetail?"

"I, alright," he sighed, remembering the most important of all of his totem's lessons to him; for some, there is no happy ending. He had to consider the alternative. The council and Firetail were wiser than he, Danna was a better general than him. He would let them make that decision. It wasn't his to make. "I don't like it, but do it."

"Let me take that, Kyven," Tweak said, taking the rifle. "I'll refill those casings right after breakfast."

"Yes, breakfast, that sounds good," he said, shaking off a feeling of . . . foreboding. Clover's idea was suicide for quite a few Arcans, but something . . . something told him that he'd be seeing that idea again.

Very soon.

Chapter 3