Morning light filters in through the window, softly illuminating the room. As the sunlight slowly creeps across the floor, then up the wall, it glides across a shelf holding sixteen dolls of porcelain and fur, decked out in regal raiment. They are in nine pairs of king and queen: three pairs of Skreeks, one pair of Skeeks, one pair of Jupani, one pair of Rath'ani, one pair of Kavis, one pair of Cervani, and one pair of Katthas. Each pair is seated on thrones on an enameled wooden display stand that includes a coat of arms, and a name written in scrollwork at the base.

Most of the other dolls in the room are of Cervanis in courtly dress. There is a painting hanging on the wall of a young Cervani girl – barely into her teens – in a simple-looking blue dress with a prim-and-proper look as accentuated by the high neckline. Under the painting is a bookshelf. Where the shelf space is not taken up by dolls or jewelry boxes or music boxes, there are actually a fair number of books, most of them – judging by the bindings – looking to be fairy tales and stories of innocent romance, along with a few picture books. Most of the titles are in Rephidim Standard or Gallisian, though one of the books has a binder in Krozite, titled "Maps of Kroz."

A cart beside the bed holds a tray with several covered dishes on it, a carafe of juice, and a glass. A little steam sneaks out from under the dishes, attesting that the food is still quite warm … and the scents are fairly appealing, too.

The bathtub in the corner of the room has been freshly filled with hot, sudsy water, the wooden bucket still resting on the tiled section of the floor just to one side, and a fluffy set of towels and cloths hanging on a bar just within reach of the tub. Willow's clothes are carefully folded and set out on a chair at the foot of the bed, smelling of fresh linen and violets, while her tools and other accessories are carefully laid out on an end table. Her chitin daggers are there as well, including the one that was thrown in the forest at the snicjers. Leaning against the chair is a sturdy-looking stick of shiny white silverbirch wood.

"Guh," Willow grunts out as the rays of sunlight hit her face. She pulls a satin blanket up over her head to blot it out and then realizes that her bed feels an awfully lot more comfortable than what she's used to. Slowly her gray muzzle pokes out from the sheets and peers around, and the memories of the past day start to come back into focus. "Wow… I must have been out cold not to have noticed all of this being brought in, or the servants here are good." She yawns and starts to drag herself out of bed.

The carpeted floor feels quite soft under Willow's feet. (A hardwood floor, after all, would be murdered by Cervani hooves.)

The Skreek rubs the last bit of sleep from her eyes and focuses in on her surroundings, ( This must have been the room of a child here. I wonder if the prince had a sister?) She pulls a muffin from the tray and munches on it thoughtfully as she explores the room a bit more. She studies the portrait on the wall and tries to compare the girl to Mother Diamante.

Yes, the girl looks like a younger version of Mother Diamante … though with enough different features about the cheekbones and her eyes to make it evident that it's not the same Cervani. Something about the cheeks looks faintly similar to Prince Diamante as well. That this would be the Prince's sister would seem to be a pretty good theory.

( Nobody's here though – which would mean that the girl either left and got married or… ) She glances out the window, remembering the creatures that attacked her in the forest, and shivers. To distract herself a bit, she moves to the rack of eighteen dolls, patting a Skeek doll on the nose. "At least you're more pleasant to be around than Prince Urban, eh?"

The Skeek doll is white – not quite the same off-white as Urban – and the hair color is white as well, unlike Prince Urban's appropriately mousy brown mane. But the name written in Krozite scrollwork on the base of the stand, underneath the coat of arms, reads "Urban".

Willow arches an eye at this and looks around for a Diamante doll as well.

Sure enough, the pair of Cervani dolls have "Diamante" written in the scrollwork on the base of the display stand. Actually, the king-like figure (or, rather, the Prince) is dressed the same way as the portrait of the stern-looking Cervani that hangs in the tea room … and his features, although simplified as a doll, look reminiscent of that as well. The dress worn by the "queen" (Princess?) looks a lot like some of the designs in Mother Diamante's wardrobe.

Willow smirks and traces her finger across the rack to study the Skreek dolls. "I suppose that Prince Cobalt – or whatever his name was – has a doll as well. Wonder who would want to cuddle a rat at night?"

There are a total of six Skreek dolls. Three Princes, three "Princesses" – assuming that the latter is a proper term.

The names on the nameplates read, "Cobalt", "Stiletto", and "Naochi". Of the other dolls, the nameplate under the Jupani couple reads "Darklight". The nameplate under the Rath'ani couple reads "Silverbirch". The nameplate under the Kavi couple reads "Goldburrow". The nameplate under the Kattha couple reads "Dack".

A blunted clawtip traces absently across the nameplates as she glances idly at the dolls, "Rat… rat… coon… A Kavi prince? Heh, must have one bloody short rei – " She freezes, blinks a few times and then snatches up the "Naochi" doll. "What in eight flaming pits?!?"

The Prince Naochi doll is a light gray rat with a darker gray shade of hair. The "Princess" Naochi, however, is more beige, with a striking scarlet mane.

Willow shakes her head and stuffs the doll back into its place. "Bah. Some rat in Himar probably had a fling when some idiot wooed her with tales of being royalty." Her teeth grind as she focuses on bathing instead – the next several minutes are spent burying herself in soap and facing away from the rack of dolls.

The water is still warm, verging on hot, and the soaps are lightly perfumed, and have an interesting marbled grain running through them, faintly reminiscent of the stone of the dining hall. No one comes to disturb Willow's bath.

Her breakfast ignored, Willow finishes bathing rather quickly – a habit picked up when sharing a ship with fifty or so other people. She dries, brushes herself off, and dresses hastily, grabbing a few bites of breakfast during her whirlwind. She looks at the door, at the doll rack, and then grabs the red-haired Skreek doll before slipping out into the hallway.

As Willow steps out into the hallway, she avoids tripping on a big cheetah crouched down, half-dozing, just outside the door. He fully awakens with a start, and stands up to full attention. Burr bows his head in greeting.

The Skreek stuffs the doll under her arm to hide it. "I… Good morning. I have some breakfast left over. Take care of it for me." Without waiting for any more of an acknowledgment, she turns around and heads towards Mother Diamante's room.

Mother Diamante's room is easily reached … It doesn't take Willow nearly so long to navigate the hallway as Diamante did last night while using her cane to escape the visitors. The rose-carved wooden double doors are slightly ajar.

Willow hesitantly raps at the door. "Hello?"

"Oh! Good morning! Did you sleep well, dearie? Come right on in!" calls out the voice of Mother Diamante, from inside.

Swallowing, the Skreek slips through the door opening, still hiding the doll under her arm. "I slept very well – apparently right through your servants setting up my clothes and a bath. I… er… I've never had such good treatment before and hope I'm not being an inconvenience or anything." Her eyes glances down at the doll. "There's something I want to ask you about. I saw something that I'm not sure belongs where it is."

"Really? Yes, they're quite good at that. Tal insisted upon it. Mmm? Whatever is the miss? And should I call you Willow, or – was it Foxfire?" asks Mother Diamante. "I imagine you'd probably tire of me calling you 'dearie' all the time."

Without answering the Cervani's question, Willow holds the doll out. "Who is this?"

Lady Diamante takes a moment to focus on the doll, then remarks,"Oh! Oh yes … that would be one of the dolls from Nene's room. That would be Lady Naochi. That is, the Lady Naochi from quite a few years ago. She's passed on. The present Prince Naochi hasn't taken a bride. Oh! But don't let me start going into gossip."

The Skreek feels the fire in her chest burn hotter and it's all she can do to keep from throwing the doll down and screaming. "I don't suppose they ever had children, did they? Er… a daughter?"

"Yes, actually," says Mother Diamante, "though it was very sad. Several daughters … but they all died as infants. And then little Kiri was born. His mother died in childbirth. Young Prince Kiri now sits on the throne, after his father died in that hunting accident a few seasons ago. That family has been so touched by tragedy!"

Willow relaxes a little. "I see. I knew someone named Naochi once… a Skreek named Chiria who looked a bit like this, but she couldn't have been related, and definitely no princess." She tucks the doll back under her arm. "That's all I needed to know. Thank you, Mother Diamante." She turns to leave.

"Oh! Chiria … yes … that was the name of the youngest of the daughters, too. But she died an infant, so there'd be no relation, of course," muses Mother Diamante. "But her last name was Naochi? How odd."

"Probably just the name given to her by a mother, whose profession is impolite to mention in such company, that thought it sounded nice. Probably just messing with the kid's mind." Willow places the doll on a dresser. "Could you have that put back for me? I… think I want to walk around for a bit right now."

Mother Diamante nods. "Of course. It's a lovely day out there. And thank you for those herbs … I do think they work! But I don't think I'll be taking a stroll myself today just yet."

"Where is the Naochi manor located? Is it near here?" The Skreek pauses at the doorway.

Mother Diamante looks up from her sewing. "No, actually, it's the furthest of the eight principalities from here. We're on one side … Naochi is clear on the other, right up next to Olympia."

Mother Diamante puts her fingers to her mouth, then shakes her head. "No, no, I've got that wrong. Dack is furthest to the east. Naochi is right next to it. Oh … I'd have to look at a map. Well, it's a bit of a travel, really. I don't think Prince Kiri has ever visited."

"Prince Naochi, I mean. I should stop referring to him by his first name all the time. Bad habit," the Cervani confesses. "The only time I saw him when he was just a precious little thing! I have a hard time seeing him otherwise."

"How far is it? Maybe he'd be interested in a bit of trading. I don't suppose that there's a graveyard at his castle where the children are buried?" Willow stumbles a bit on the last bit… No convenient excuse for asking that question comes to mind.

The Cervani looks to Willow, a very curious and slightly concerned expression on her face. "I wouldn't know. Prince Naochi had requested that it be a private ceremony in each case. Normally, all the other Princes would attend the funeral of an heir." She smoothes out her expression. "In any case … ah … well, let me see. It's been so long since anything like that came up … I suppose if you used your airship, it shouldn't be more than a couple of days or so. It's hard to tell, what with the weather. By land, it might take you a week, perhaps."

"Do you have a library here?" The Skreek sighs. "I'm sorry for asking all these odd questions. I don't mean any harm, I assure you… I just need to convince myself of something."

"Why, yes, there is no end to the books in this old castle!" answers Mother Diamante with a laugh. "Dearest Tal was quite the bookworm … and Ral has inherited his habit … especially since he's so ill and never gets out, so I suppose he has nothing else to do. And Nene … well … she was quite the reader, too." The Cervani's expression saddens.

"Your daughter?" The Skreek bites her lip. "I couldn't help but notice… the room I was in. Did something happen, Mother Diamante? Er… not that it's any of my business… "

"Yes," says the old Cervani, looking out the window. "It's a beautiful land we live in, with a rich and mysterious history … and far, far too many legends and fables. Nene loved to learn. But she wasn't so interested in what she considered 'boring' topics. She didn't want just to be a prim and proper lady … No, she wanted to be an adventurer. When she read about the old empire of Moltpaa, we encouraged her in her studies … something she found an interest in. History. But… "

( Even if it's not a relation of mine… seven dead daughters plus a dead mother and father, and now this? Something's wrong here. ) Willow's nose quivers in the air.

"She wanted to see it for herself?" The gray rat slumps a little. ( That might explain the huntsman. He doesn't want people to end up like his sister. )

"… well, yes," answers Mother Diamante. "You see, scattered about Kroz, there are places with links to the underground world. They are marked by ruins … and they are strong in magic … and haunted by monsters, it is said." The Cervani's mouth quivers. "She … she didn't have a scratch on her. Not a one. But … she … They couldn't do anything. She was already … " She puts down her sewing, and grabs a handkerchief, dabbing it at her eyes.

"Of course, those dreadful ghost tales … claim that the snicjers devour the souls of their victims. I refuse to believe that," stammers the matron. "Souls are eternal."

Willow shifts nervously, unsure of what to do. Finally she picks up the doll again and just sits next to the old Cervani, trying to be a comfort with her presence. "I'm sorry I brought up such bad memories, Mother Diamante." She chuckles and shakes her head, looking down at the doll. "And here I was the one coming here for comfort."

"No, no… that's quite all right, dear," protests Mother Diamante. She pauses, taking a deep breath. "You had no way of knowing."

"Her room is beautiful, full of love and comfort, and now the huntsman makes sure that nobody else gets hurt in the woods. I'm in awe of it all, really." Willow turns the doll around in her hands. "Places like this only existed in fairy tales for me. I'm sure she… she was loved a great deal."

"Yes," agrees Mother Diamante. "A great deal. Prince Ral goes out to visit her grave every day. It's the only time I let him out of my sight – that is, out of the castle. I'm not sure where he finds the flowers to put on her grave, though. Hmm. Maybe he's taken up gardening without telling me, come to think of it."

The Skreek puts a hand over the doll's face. "Mother Diamante… the decision should ultimately be hers, but when I leave, could Morning-Mist stay here? She needs someone to take care of her, and considering that we've ticked off two towns and some pirates, I'm worried that something might happen to her. I picked her up in Himar from a bunch of people who believed in a wacky cult that involved killing everyone who was old or sick or ugly. She's got a good heart and deserves a good life, and the Merryweather can't offer her much beyond a short life."

"Really? Killing? Why, that's awful!" remarks Mother Diamante. "Well … you know … Ral has been talking nothing but about her. And I don't believe I've ever heard him talk quite so much about the forest and plants and such until last night – which made me wonder if he might have read up on gardening, in addition to just about everything else. I'm quite certain Ral would be most enthusiastic about the idea." She looks back to Willow. "And, judging by Morning-Mist's reaction, I can't see her protesting, either. She's such a sweet young lady."

Willow nods. "They were going to kill her, just because of those couple of twisted teeth she has." She inhales sharply, swallows, and then manages a smile. "I'll talk to Ral about it when I find him. If you don't mind me perusing your bookcases, I'll still probably need a guide through the library. Is Ral busy at the moment?"

Mother Diamante shakes her head. "I never visit Himar. It's just too barbaric for me. And that doesn't improve my image of it in the least. Now then … yes, by all means, do talk to Ral! But I think he's with Morning-Mist right now. He might be walking out in the courtyard, or something like that." Funny … her window does afford a pretty good view of the courtyard from up here…

"I'll go meet them then." The Skreek stands up and looks at the doll in her hands. She sets it down in the place she was sitting. "It might get damaged if I take it out with me. I'll see you at lunchtime perhaps." She turns and heads out the door and down the stairs to the courtyard outside.

Out in the courtyard, sure enough, Ral is walking along with Morning-Mist. She has a crown of wildflowers woven in her hair … and Ral has one as well, about the base of his antlers. Morning-Mist strolls along, absently weaving a flower bracelet, while Ral seems to be telling her something of the history of Kroz, or something along those lines.

Willow suddenly seems to be afflicted with a case of coughing, loud coughing that almost seems to announce her presence in the courtyard.

Ral and Morning-Mist startle out of their conversation, right about the point where it sounds like Ral was talking about the last wedding he had attended, or something like that. "Oh! Good morning!" calls out the young prince.

Morning-Mist looks away, suddenly interested at a stone gargoyle, but Willow can still catch the hint of blush in her ears.

The Skreek bows a little bit and approaches the pair, casting a quick glance at one of the stone towers of the castle and a particular window facing out from it. "Sorry to disturb you two, but I just finished talking with Mother Diamante… I'm just making the morning rounds." She clears her throat a little. "Prince Diamante, could you show me around your library sometime? I'm wanting to look into the history of the families here, particularly the history of house Naochi if you have much on it." She shoots a glance at Morning Mist.

Morning-Mist's ears flick at the mention of the name Naochi, and she glances sideways at Willow.

"Ah, yes. Naochi! I'm such an idiot," says Prince Ral with a shake of his head. "I was trying to remember that name last night. That's the surname of Prince Kiri. Mother keeps on calling him 'Prince Kiri' all the time, though. Every once in a while, I forget and call his home 'Castle Kiri'. But, yes, that's a Skreek family. And I'd love to show you the library. We could go there now, couldn't we, Lady Morning-Mist?"

Morning-Mist nods. "Yes, I'd be delighted!"

Willow just shrugs in response, her face and her body language clearly saying "I don't know". She clears her throat a little bit. "And Misty, I've been thinking. Er… I talked it over with Mother Diamante and I was wondering if you'd like to stay here when we set sail? Don't make your decision right now… but after Gallis, I think it's time you started looking for a less exciting life." She smiles a little at the prince, "So you saw Prince Kiri recently? You have any idea what he was up to or what he wanted?"

Morning-Mist's eyes go wide. Her voice cracks in a near-squeak as she exclaims, "YES!" She covers her mouth with both hands. "Oh … I mean … I love it here. Maybe I could … find employment as a seamstress?"

Prince Ral seems a bit taken aback by Morning-Mist's outburst, and he quickly turns away to hide an embarrassed smile. He clears his throat, then says, "Well … no, actually. I haven't had direct dealings with him at all, that I can remember. His domain is pretty far from here. I think he deals more with the Olympians than with his fellow Krozites … and the same for Prince Dack."

"I could teach you a few herbal tricks. Maybe you can help Mother Diamante with her legs when we ship off and I'm gone." The gray rat smirks at the Cervani lady before looking back to the Prince. "Who is Prince Dack? Another Skreek?" Her smile starts to fade a little bit as the glimmer of a thought touches her mind.

Morning-Mist frowns at the mention of "gone". "Oh … yes … if I stay here … I won't be seeing you for quite some time, will I? Or Thorn or Burr … or Hammerhead… " She sighs, looking torn.

Prince Ral frowns a bit, looking as if he wishes to say something to Morning-Mist, but either not finding the words or the courage to do so. Turning to Willow, he says, "Prince Dack is a Kattha, actually."

"Though," Prince Ral amends, "he looks like a Khatta. Or maybe I have them mixed up. I'm not strong on the particulars of the relations between Katthas and Khattas."

"We're airshipmen, and we do rounds and we'll pop back from time to time." Willow glances around at the Prince. "Will you just scruddy tell her you love her! I know it's only been a day, but for goodness' sake!"

Ral looks as if he's just had a bucket of water dumped on his head. (Well, except that he's not wet, that is. Perhaps thatwasn't the best allegory.) "Why … I … Actually … I sort of … "

Morning-Mist looks at Ral hopefully.

"Well," stammers the prince, looking awfully uncertain all of a sudden. "Well … yes, actually. Yes, I do love her. I'm pretty certain of it. I mean … it's rather sudden and all, but … now that you mention it… " He coughs.

The Skreek taps her foot, "There you go. Wasn't that hard, was it? Could you show me the library now? You can be melty in there while I'm reading. Er… just a moment." She turns to look up at the window and cups her hands over her mouth. "HE SAID HE LOVED HER!!!" she shouts up. Who knows at what…

Willow's not looking at Morning-Mist and Prince Ral at the moment, so there's no telling just what expressions are on their faces.

Up in the window, a barely-visible elder Cervani cries into a handkerchief. "Oh!"

"Ah … yes, let's go see the library," suggests Prince Ral, taking Morning-Mist's hand.

"After you, Prince Diamante." The Skreek grins from ear to ear.

Prince Diamante leads Morning-Mist and Willow into the library … the former by the hand. "And here is the largest collection of books in the castle – in the whole countryside, really, I'd imagine."

Morning-Mist looks at the shelves. "I'm … not well-learned at reading, really. I can read a bit … but I really have a lot to learn."

"Um… This Prince Dack … You mentioned he was a Kattha. Is he a black Kattha by any chance? And do you know his first name?" Willow pokes though the shelves here and there.

"Ah, yes," replies Prince Diamante. "Black runs through the whole line, actually. Even despite intermarriage. The heir is always black. Quite a curiosity, really. And his first name is Sebazhan."

"Was there ever a member of the house named Tyrne?" The Skreek rubs some dust from a bookcase off and wipes her hands against her shirt.

Diamante replies, "I wouldn't know. No one around during my time, at least. I'm afraid that, although Prince Dack is a fellow Prince, I doubt I know his lineage as well as he does."

"Could you find me some books about the Naochi family and the Dack family? I've got a suspicion about a couple of things, and with your permission I'd like to look into them further." Willow chitters her teeth together nervously.

"Ah … yes, I believe I can do that … though it's rather heavy reading." Diamante goes through the bookshelves, searching.

After some time, and after several books have stacked up on tables in the search, Prince Diamante produces a dusty tome, one of many in a chronicling of Krozite history. "Now, do keep in mind … back to a certain point, it's just legend. And past that point, what you'll read here will probably differ from, say, at Urban's abode. In this version, the lord of the land was originally King Diamante, you see." He winks.

"Thanks," Willow taps the cover of the book. "Is it true that Lady Naochi lost seven daughters? Including a girl named Chiria?"

"Not entirely," answers Prince Diamante. "Four daughters: Inri, Takiri, Shari, and Chiria. My memory isn't that good about the families of most of the other Principalities … but that many deaths in a family is something that made an impression on me as a child … though most of it had happened before my time."

The Skreek sinks down in her chair. "Did you ever hear how they died?" ( No… If they wanted to get rid of a kid, they could have just ditched it and not told anybody about it. It's just a coincidence, rat. Stop thinking you're some hoity-toity piece of royalty. )

"I don't really know. Some sort of illness, I assume," answers the prince. "House Naochi was rather reclusive about it, after the second death. By the third, there were talks of some sort of curse being visited on the family, or fears of an enemy striking against the household to deny Prince Naochi an heir. And when Lady Naochi died in childbirth with Kiri … well, that only added to the tragedy, but when he lived beyond the cradle, it was a considerable relief."

"I suppose that the fourth child died twenty-eight years ago, right?" Willow folds her arms and sinks into her seat even more.

Prince Diamante raises his eyebrows. "Oh! So you're already familiar with this, then?"

"It's a scruddy lie, and I refuse to believe it! My mother was a harlot piece of street-trash that left me to a life of hell and I refuse to believe any of this is true!" The Skreek snatches the book up and runs to the other side of the library.

Prince Diamante just sits there, quite dumbfounded. He looks to Morning-Mist as if for help.

Willow jams herself under a table with a lantern and buries herself in the book, trying to lose herself.

There's plenty of book to get lost in. It's all hand-written, with illustrations on the pages. The style of hand-writing changes from section to section.

To paraphrase, the history of Kroz is presented thus: Long, long ago, there was a civilization of Skreeks or Skreek-like beings that lived in a great network of underground caverns and tunnels referred to as Moltpaa. This empire stretched as far as the present day recognized borders of the kingdom of Kroz.

Due to some unknown cataclysm – perhaps war, perhaps a magical experiment gone awry, perhaps an invasion of monsters from Bosch – the empire was decimated, and eventually sections of the tunnel system collapsed, leaving only scattered ruins to this day. Ghosts of the ancient proto-Krozites are believed to haunt ruins of entry points to the surface. They are referred to as "Snicjers", based on a word they are believed to frequently repeat, with no known meaning in the Krozite or any other tongue.

Later, a great adventurer moved into the region. He is held to be King Diamante … though some texts refer to him as "King Kroz" – and that in turn might simply be derived from "King of Kroz". It is believed that he migrated down from the land that later became Chronotopia, though he learned many things from the remnants of the ruined Moltpaa empire.

The Skreek arches an eyebrow at this and continues to read.

In time, he united the scattered tribes living in the land, brought peace to the many conflicts, and established a kingdom on the surface, mirroring the borders of the underground empire. He had eight sons – the first three being triplets – and, rather than picking a single heir to rule in his place, he divided up his kingdom between them all. To this day, Kroz is divided into eight Principalities, each ruled by a Prince.

It is not known what became of the King of Kroz. There is no known time of his death, nor any recorded burial place.

Willow traces her finger across the pages, trying to track down the bloodlines of the "Dack" household.

Over time, the names of the households have changed. The rule of each Principality goes to the firstborn – whether male or female. If the first-born is a female, then when she marries, her husband shall be the new Prince, and the line shall continue under his name, and the Principality is known by his surname.

Toward the end of the book – and there is evidence of many additions over the years – there is a record of "begats" in the lines of the eight Principalities.

It seems that the line of Dack goes back quite some way … although the surname appears to have mutated over the years.

A few centuries ago, Prince Dagg is credited as ruling the Principality. But the records don't go back any further than that.

"Fine… We'll start from there." She pokes around the records, looking for a first name. ( You probably thought to cover your tracks… or maybe I'm just on a wild chase. It keeps me interesting. )

Yes, names like "Turne" and "Tirne" show up multiple times in the family line. And, as family lines often go, especially with nobility, family names tend to get recycled…

Willow flips a bit further as she tries to find any history about the Naochi family, looking for any interactions or dealings they may have had with the Dack family. ( Why do I get the feeling that you're somehow responsible for me, Dagh? I feel like you were responsible for having me taken away or meant for me to die, or something else. I feel like a scruddy fatted Bromthen right now. )

Yes, it appears that the Naochi and Dack families, in addition to being geographically situated right next to each other, have been quite active in each other's affairs for a very long time.

There are numerous records of them joining forces to fight off incursions of monsters from Bosch, exploration of ruins, building bridges and dams, and such.

The rat bites her lip and on a whim looks to see if the Dack family might have overseen the birth of the Naochi children, either as doctors or midwives or othersuch.

Yes, as a matter of fact. The families seem to be very close indeed.

Willow shuts the book and drags herself out from under the table. "Interesting, indeed. Don't know about me, indeed. Lady Sawtooth doesn't take well to people lying to her, you know."

"Are you all right?" asks Prince Diamante, rising from his seat next to Morning-Mist.

"No. No, I'm not. Not in the slightest." The Skreek puts her book down on the table and wipes her hands off as though just touching the thing soiled her. "I'm going to go talk with Testy. Misty, go ahead and tell him what I told you in Himar. If you trust him, then I do too, but I'm too scruddy angry to explain it myself. Just meet me back in my room later today. I probably won't be at lunch." Without another word, she heads out of the library and starts hunting for Testament-Blaze.

Willow doesn't have to go far. Just across the corridor is a study … and the cheetah is seated there, carefully penning into a tome with (previously) blank pages of white parchment. He's got fairly nice handwriting, actually.

The Skreek raps on the top of his table with a knuckle.

The cheetah almost blotches the ink, as he starts. He taps the pen on the blotter, and puts a cap on the inkwell, then bows to Willow.

"I don't have any idea why you're the one I want to talk to, but I need some advice and for some reason that little voice in my head that tells me to fish people out of Titanian pig-piles and such thinks you're the person for the job. Could we go up to my room for a bit?" Amazingly, Willow manages to keep her voice down, although a few hints of a chittery growl escapes her throat here and there between words.

Testament-Blaze nods, then leans over to blow on the drying ink on the page. He gets up, and follows Willow, a faint look of concern creasing his brows at signs of her forced restraint.

Without another word, the Skreek half walks, half jogs to her room. With each step she slowly chokes down on the bundle of anger building up inside of her.

Testament-Blaze, being a cheetah, albeit an old one, has little trouble keeping pace with Willow. He steps inside, and carefully closes the door behind them.

When the door closes Willow throws herself on the bed and just stares at the ceiling for a bit before finally flopping her head sideways to look at the priest. "What is the Star's take on lying?"

The priest raises his eyebrows. "Bearing false witness," he signs, "that is – lying – is directly against one of the Ten Commands. 'Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor.' It is unacceptable. The ends do not justify the means. There are always consequences that we cannot see."

"Even when the alternative to a lie might mean death?" The Skreek pulls herself up a little.

The priest closes his eyes as he nods, then he signs, "Yes. It can be very difficult. There are times when I am given pause, and not certain what I should do. But honesty is essential. Otherwise, how can there be trust? How could you ever trust me, if it might be that I lie to you 'for your own good'? Who am I to make that judgment for you?"

"I am a lie. I'm a big fat scruddy lie and I'm having trouble telling what's real, what's something I want to see, and what might be a lie to hide something." Willow puts her hands over her head. "Several months ago I changed who I was, because I was afraid that people from my past were going to find me and kill me. I changed my looks, my name, even my scruddy scent! And now right when I've settled in nice and happy in my new life, the old one pops up to say hello and ask for tea and biscuits."

Testament-Blaze pauses to ponder this, then signs, "Is there any way I can help? Are you in any sort of trouble? Is someone seeking to harm you, from your past?"

Willow shakes her head. "No. I've been hiding from ghosts. Everyone I was afraid would hunt me is either scattered or dead now. I've just been too scared to realize it." She shoots a glance up at the doll rack, looking for the red-haired Skreek doll.

Yes, it has been replaced already. Willow was studying that book for quite some time, after all. It's about time for lunch, judging by the light outside, and the urging of the Skreek's stomach.

The rat picks up the doll and holds it out to the cheetah. "Here. This is who I was, or the closest thing to it – although it's not dressed properly. My name was Chiria… which I've found out corresponds with the name of a girl who would be about my age and probably my build who had the exact same name and who supposedly died soon after she was born. But here I am!"

The cheetah takes another while to sort this. "This is what you mean by being a 'lie'?"

"Yes. And with magic, you can even shape yourself into something different. I figured for my new fur job I'd pick something cold and quiet." She puts her unbroken arm across her stomach to quiet its growling.

The cheetah signs, "Do you mean to say that this doll represents you? I am a poor judge, but I would guess that this doll would be older than you appear to be. Unless your apparent age was altered by this 'magic' as well."

"I think it's my mum. I apparently took after her." Willow shrugs. "There's another one that might be Pap… or maybe I'm just making up stories to convince myself that I'm not just a rat."

The cheetah signs, "Do you trust yourself so little?"

"Yes I do!" the Skreek snaps back. "I'm a rat, I lived in garbage, I picked people's pockets, I cut people's throats or knifed them in the back just like my Pirate Captain Weatherwax asked me to! If these people were my parents, then they obviously didn't care enough to try to find me when whatever happened to me happened. All my life I've figured that my mom was like that prostitute back in Gallis, and my pap was one of her customers that happened to be in the right place at the right time. It's a typical rat birth and life for a typical rat, and that's what I am."

The cheetah signs, "Do they yet live? Perhaps we can seek answers."

Willow shakes her head. "They're both dead. Supposedly there's a brother, but the thought of him makes my whiskers itch for some reason. Even from here I smell something bad… which brings me to my problem."

"And that is … ?" signs the cheetah hesitantly.

"I think I know who to get answers from, but I don't know what to think of him, and I already owe him a favor. Maybe I'm just clutching blindly at clues or answers, but I think that Tyrne Dagh is related to all of this somehow." She looks back at the doll cabinet, trying to find a black Kattha in the mix.

"That is the fellow you got to set me free, yes?" signs the cheetah. And, yes, there's a black Kattha on the shelf, with a calico wife. The name is Dack.

The Skreek pulls the black Khatta doll down as well, inspecting it closely. "Yes, but he didn't do it out of the kindness of his heart and did everything in his power to convince me you were a loon and your teachings were rubbish, not to mention he wanted to kill everyone who had heard your words. He may still try to take you out, or maybe not. I neither know the extent of his power or his knowledge."

The cheetah's ears droop. "I do not understand his motivations, then."

Willow holds up the doll, "Tyrne Dagh was a black Khatta, and there were a few similar sounding names in the history book I read back in the library. To top it off, the 'Dack' family is situated nice and comfy next to the Naochi one and are really close to them, even going so far as helping them when the mother of the house is having children." She shakes her head. "I could pop some more of that black powder and demand answers… but it might be that he lies to me, he honestly doesn't know, or makes me owe him another favor in exchange. I don't know what to do… "

The cheetah signs, "This black powder is your connection with this Tyrne Dagh? I am leery of the use of possible hallucinogens and mind-altering substances."

"I don't know what it is. I suppose I could study it, but it doesn't explain why when I took it last I saw part of your trial… and what I saw actually happened. I could describe the translator, the look on your face, even what little bit I saw you sign." Willow shakes her head and turns the doll over in her hands.

"I cannot advise you on this. This falls into the realm of what you call 'magic' … and of which I know nothing. It is against my teachings to practice sorcery – but I do not know if this is the same thing. I am inclined to think that this is dangerous," the priest signs.

"Even when I'm trying to find out the truth about something?" Willow folds her arms across her lap. "There's another option, but it would mean a couple of days in the airship or a couple of weeks on the road. We could ride out and pay the Naochi house and the Dack house a little visit."

"I cannot make this decision for you," signs the cheetah, "but if there is any way I may assist you, I will do so."

The Skreek slumps. "Rrrgh. I was afraid you were going to say that. Well, we're not going anywhere for a long while… I'll have a couple of days to sleep on it, I suppose. Meanwhile, even though I said I was going to be absent at lunch, my stomach seems ready to pop out on its own and fill itself… and I should probably apologize to Prince Diamante for my tantrum." She pulls herself off the bed and weakly pushes the door open. "What was it you were writing?"

"I was writing a new collection of the Holy Books," signs the cheetah priest.

"It will take me some time, but the Diamantes were kind enough to lend me some supplies. I may be on Sinai for quite some time, so I figured I should set to work as soon as possible," he adds.

Willow holds the door open for the priest before shuffling off downstairs. "The Diamantes apparently have a Star as well. You trying to convert them to your own while you're at it?"

"No," answers the cheetah. "I am using their collection to copy from. I do not have the entirety memorized yet."

The rat's eyes go wide. "What? You mean you have the same books? But you're from Abaddon! Er… how?"

"We have legends of those of our kind who ventured to your world millennia ago, and with whom we lost contact. Perhaps they made the trip successfully," he signs.

"Funny that they ended up here." Willow shakes her head, "Although the folks here seem to be a bit more well mannered than the Titanians. By the way… nice pamphlet."

"Thank you," signs Testament-Blaze. "It was difficult to figure out how to translate the concepts of the afterlife in Titanian terms."

"Titanians," the cheetah signs, "just don't seem to stop to consider death. They all seem to think they're immortal. Or at least they act like it. I'm not sure if 'think' is the right term to use about such a topic."

"Maybe they don't care. Their brains are wired up to hit things with hammers, and not much else." Willow shrugs and puts a hand to her growling stomach again. "You'd probably get similar results in trying to convert Kavis, or Zelaks, or Skreeks."

"And your race is called 'Skreek', correct?" signs the cheetah, looking a bit uncertain.

"That's right," she answers.

The cheetah shrugs helplessly. "You keep touching your stomach," he points out.

Willow shakes her head. "Because I've been alternating between feeling like I have a mob of zakis bouncing around in it, compounded by the fact that I've probably eaten enough to equal one meal in the past two days. I don't eat well when I'm nervous."

"Well, perhaps you should fill your stomach anyway. You do not strike me as one to undertake fasting," he signs with an ear-wiggle.