The quality of the ride has only improved slightly upon reaching what passes for civilization. The sun is setting, and while it's not officially nightfall just yet, the valley is shadowed well before the stars come out. The incident at Rakhtor Pass wasn't the worst of the journey … There were a few more ambushes and attempted ambushes, some obvious, some not, along the way. Fortunately, none of the attackers were particularly well-organized, and certainly not all that experienced in the ways of piracy as, say, Willow might be. The minor victories against bandits didn't even prove to be profitable. (Incidentally, the fox had vanished by the time Willow had come back up from the river … and Willow's investigation of the rat shepherd's coin purse revealed a few fox hairs in it. Perhaps the rat shepherd wasn't the only stickypaw there.)

Back to the present, though, the Kavi driver announces, "CastleNaochiupthereonnamountaintop!Herewearehereweare!Safeandsound,nomorebandits!Yippee!"

Further down the road is a cluster of houses that have lights out front and back, huddled around a larger, two-story building that has a sign and a lantern hanging over the front door. The sign proclaims the establishment to be the "Ember Inn". Some passable music and lots of bad (but enthusiastic) singing can be heard coming from within the main room. There are plenty of darkened side-roads to take as well, making it quite possible to make the journey under cover of shadow if desired.

A plume of smoke emerges from a pipe clenched between Willow's teeth as she surveys the city. "Should we stop here for the night, or is it safe to ride up to the castle? Hmm… good bet that Kiri probably won't be as hospitable room-wise for us. Maybe we should stop here and try the castle in the morning." She puffs out another stream of smoke as she ponders.

The Kavi chitters at a mile a minute about what a nice night it is. No doubt, Willow's query hasn't reached his ears. However, the carriage rolls to a stop up in front of the Ember Inn, and the Kavi hops down. "Gonnaberightbackgonnagocheckonthelocalnewsseeifthere'sanytroublegoingstraighttothecastledon'tgofarnowhear?"

"I'll go with you," Willow chitters, snuffing her pipe and stuffing it back into her belt. "Burr, mind the carriage and keep sticky fingers out of it. Keep your ears pricked for my whistle in case there's trouble." She clambers out of the door and follows behind the Kavi.

As the Kavi scampers up the front steps and opens the door – politely holding it open for Willow – music comes from inside. Some Skreek musician is pounding away on a battered-looking piano, his singing drowned out by the ale-slurred or just-plain naturally-out-of-tune accompaniment of the fellow patrons.

"There's a … thin line 'tween bravery … and then stupidity … most won't go across!"

"Then there's Michael Ironhead … smarter than a piece of le-ad … he just won't count the cossssst!"

The music continues along in this vein, singing the "praises" of some poor daft fool "hero" with a curious name.

The gray Skreek puts her hands in her pockets as she enters the Inn, quietly scanning the patrons. "Boisterous group here at least. The ale must be mighty nice."

The Kavi strides his way over to the bar and clambers up onto a stool. "OnefortheroadandisthereanytroublehereinNaochiCitythatIshouldworryaboutifI'mgoingtovisitthecastletodosometrading?"

The Skreek barkeep just stares at the Kavi for a long moment, then finally parses the bit about wanting a drink (or just takes a lucky guess), and fills up a mug of ale. "Two shekels," the patchy brown Skreek barkeep says.

Smirking, Willow hops up neck to the Kavi, "Likewise… and if you'd like a translation for that, I'm happy to oblige." She slips a five-shekel coin onto the bar.

The patrons are a mixture of mostly Skreeks, with a few Kavis thrown in as well. A goodly number of them are most certainly of Krozite descent, though there are a few that range closer to xeno-Krozite origins. (That is, they've got bigger girths, less in the way of "head hair", and digitigrade legs.)

The Skreek barkeep nods. "That'd help." He pours another mug of ale and sets it in front of Willow. As he sets it down, he stares for a moment too long at her cheek.

The Skreek puts a hand to her cheek and frowns. "Just a birthmark, pay it no mind. Now, about that news?"

The barkeep nods. "Yeah. A birthmark. Gotcha. Well … news? It's Reckoning Day, by the Rephidim calendar, so M'lord Kiri got himself all sotteningly drunk and was ordering his soldiers to chop the head off of anyone who looked at him funny. Fortunately, they just took them off to 'get beheaded' and let them go when he forgot about them."

"I take it that any trading with M'lord Kiri should wait until the morning. Hmm… maybe a hangover remedy might help me get a good deal." Willow rubs her chin and looks wistful for a moment before snapping back into reality. She's not here just to do trading after all. "Is the Prince back in his castle now or is he still tottering around demanding to have heads lopped off and suchlike?"

The barkeep chitters, "Back up in his tower, tucked up for beddy-bye. Probably alone this time. His last wench got scared off after he went into one of his wild screaming fits and started calling her a … well … calling her what she was, that is, but only in mixed company."

Willow nods. "Unpleasant. I'll wait until the morning to visit then. Do you have a room to spare for some travelers? We also need a place for our wagon, preferably a safe place. I've had enough of bandits for the day."

The barkeep nods. "Twenty shekels a room a night, with some mush and bread for breakfast in the morning, and you can stable your beasts and wagon for free. Hot bath water is ten shekels extra."

"Fair enough." The female Skreek drums her fingers on the top of the bar. "Have Naochi lands always been this way? Bandits flocking the roads and wenches spending time with the Prince?"

The barkeep shakes his head. "No. Only since M'lord Tachiri got crunched in that trap. Well, the bandits, anyway. Tachiri was known to be less than faithful to his wife, Ria. Word has it he thought his wife had a 'curse' on her, and couldn't produce a son for him, so even if it was illegitimate, he was willing to try a shot with a harlot in order to get a male heir."

The barkeep adds, "And I only speak openly of such things because … well … it just isn't likely that the present lord is going to do anything about people speaking the unpleasant truth."

Willow raises an eyebrow, "You mean that Tachiri's wife wasn't Kiri's father?"

The barkeep shrugs. "Hmm. Hadn't thought of that, really. Could be possible. But not that it really matters, huh?"

The gray Skreek places a tenner on the table, her voice lowering. "What do you know about the four girls that died?"

A couple of patrons sitting nearby stop their chatter, and shuffle further away from the bar. The barkeep shudders, looks at the coins on the bar … pauses a moment … then pushes them back. "I don't know anything about that. Nobody here does. Sorry."

"I understand. Sorry to bring it up." Willow puts another tenner on the table and pushes the coins forward again. "For the room, remember?" She rubs her head, "Fires, it's Reckoning Day already? Time scruddy well flies."

The barkeep nods. "Yeah. It's good that you got inside. Legend has it that the ghosts are hungry for blood at the end of Reckoning Day. And if it's not true, there are still the bandits to worry about."

The Kavi finishes his mug, and resumes his usual chatter. "WellI'mgonnagotakecareofthecarriageandshutthemupforthenight!Berightback!"

The gray Skreek nods absently, folding her hands across the top of her muzzle, "That's a shame. I was thinking of taking a little stroll through town tonight." ( To the graveyard. I have some reckoning to do myself… )

The barkeep watches the Kavi head out the door. "Well, it'd be best to do it tomorrow night. Anyone with any sense is staying inside. You might want to bury your head under the pillows, or the shrieking of the ghosts may wake you up at night."

The barkeep gestures toward the crowd. "That's one reason why everyone's getting stone drunk tonight. They'll sleep through it all."

"So this ghost talk isn't just a bunch of hooey? Er… what's with all of the noise and such?" Willow pulls her head back up. "I'd heard there was a graveyard here, you'd think that the ghosts would leastwise have the sense to stay there instead of traveling around."

The barkeep shakes his head. "No, it's not just hooey. It's the honest to Dagh truth. It's some weird wild magic thing … on account of us being so close to Bosch, I suppose. Used to be, the lord of the land would have some mages to ward off the spirits and keep things nice and quiet and peaceful … but those days are long past. Now, it's every Skreek for hisself. If I could afford it, I'd pick up and move to Cobalt, honestly."

"So what happens to folks that step outside tonight? I've been battling bandits and Snicjers ever since I came to Kroz. What's a ghost or two?" Willow sips at her mug of ale.

The barkeep says, "Folks generally have the sense to leave ghosts alone. Can't say as I've ever known anyone to bother one. And since I'd rather have a chance at repeat business, if you don't trash your room, I'd recommend you not be the first in a while to try."

The front door opens, admitting a blind Gallah. This prompts several heads to turn his direction … but they quickly lose interest, and go back to their drunken singing.

"Over here, Copy," Willow chitters over her shoulder before focusing on the barkeep again. "I have some business I need to attend to tonight. I may just have to see for myself how dangerous these ghosts are." She looks around the bar. "Do you happen to have a map of the city?"

Willow hunches down in her seat. "Is Reckoning Day the only day that spooks come out? You'd think Midsummer's would be a more appropriate time… "

The barkeep nods. "Yes, you'd think. But who would go and argue it out with the ghosts, eh? Anyway… " He digs around under the counter, and pulls out some stained parchment with torn edges. "Here … I could whip up one for you. What are you trying to find?"

The mutt pads up over to the bar, using his nose to avoid colliding with any drunks on the way.

"If you could just mark up the safe ways through town where I can wander without getting rolled by bandits that'll be plenty fine for me. I'll see if I can't fish out a bottle of Gallisian Wine from my stores in return for the favor." Willow shrugs. "The part of town that way." She points, trying to remember the direction she saw the graveyard in during her travels into town."

The barkeep's eyebrows shudder, but he nods and sketches up a map. He briefly summarizes the path, indicating a few landmarks, parts of town to avoid … and places that are good to rush to if any trouble comes calling.

"Thanks." The gray Skreek's eyes follow the path of the barkeep's scribbling. "Look, I know this seems suspicious as hell, and I look like I'm crazy, but I'm not here to cause any trouble. I'll probably find it easy enough, but I don't have any dark intentions."

"Sure … sure," says the barkeep. "Fine. Whatever. Just as long as no trouble gets brought back here, and your shekels are real, it doesn't matter to me one way or another. I won't ask any questions. None of my business."

Copy barks, "Everything going smoothly? The Kavi seems especially anxious to get the beasts put away quickly tonight."

"Just fine, monsieur." The gray Skreek hops from her stool. "I've gotten us a room for the night, and you can have the rest of my mug. Just help get our stuff stowed in the room and have Burr and Testy meet me out by the stables."

Copy makes a sloppy salute toward a spot immediately to Willow's left, currently occupied by nobody. "Aye, aye!" He then fumbles for the mug, grinning happily.

Willow pockets the map and steps outside to help get the wagon put away for the night.

A bit of hauling of trunks and double-checking to make sure nothing got pilfered, and everything is put away. As planned, Testament-Blaze and Burr meet Willow out at the stables, while Copy and the Kavi head in to make use of the room.

"Get your shovels, men," the Skreek hisses coldly. "Tonight I'm getting some answers. Just watch for the spooks."

No spooks have appeared to molest the group, though unearthly moans and shrieks have been heard in the distance. It could just be the wind and the trees … but it's hardly a stretch to consider more supernatural explanations, given how frequently they come into play in this land. Testament-Blaze keeps signing the Star and going through signed prayers all the way, and even sprinkled the shovels with some "holy water".

At last, Willow and the two cheetahs make it up the broken road that leads up to the long-neglected graveyard on a mountain slope. It is ringed by a stone wall with nasty-looking spikes guarding the top … but there are enough broken spots to go through, and the gates are collapsed, to the point where the defense is not all that impressive anymore. Even if that weren't good enough, the land is so overgrown that it'd be a simple matter to scale a tree and get over by one of the thicker branches.

Willow looks for a hole big enough to fit the rather massive cheetah in her band and ducks through. "Start looking for some of the less ancient ones; they're probably buried together."

As Willow goes through the hole, she gets a good view of the broken stones of the graveyard. It's a bit like the Old Cemetery, perhaps – Rephidim just can't afford to devote more land to graves, considering what limited space it has on the sky island, so there aren't any nice, neatly arranged cemeteries for comparison.

Some of the tombstones have statues atop them, in varying stages of crumbling. Some have simple symbols – holy symbols, perhaps. Others are fairly simple slabs.

One of the statues silhouetted by the Procession light, curiously enough, looks like a Khatta casually perched atop a grave-marker.

The Skreek clutches her staff and sniffs at the air. "If Kiri was responsible for burying his pap, he'll probably have a scruddy poor lookin – YAAAUGH!" She whirls around to face the Khatta, wild-eyed and gasping before it slowly sinks in that it's only a statue.

Alas, it never does sink in that it's only a statue … because, on a second take … it's not.

"Greetings," purrs the black Khatta. "I was expecting you'd be here."

Back at the wall, Burr tries to force his way through the hole Willow found. Testament-Blaze must have set down his lantern to lend a hand.

"Don't you know it's not safe to be out tonight." Willow swallows and straightens herself up a bit. "Spooks and such lurking about."

The Khatta nods. "Yes. I'm quite aware. Anyway, I suppose you could use some help." He hops down off of the gravestone. With his shadow gone, the Procession-light makes the well-worn inscriptions clear. Tachiri Naochi. Ria Naochi. And four other Naochis. The last is Chiria.

"I'm glad to see you brought your own shovel," the Khatta purrs. "It'll make this somewhat less gruesome."

"I've seen corpses half-eaten by horrib larvae, this won't be anything new." Willow glances back over her shoulder. "Burr, unstick yourself and start helping me dig." She starts turning the ground over with the butt end of her staff, "What brings you here? Come to see me wail and moan if it turns out to be empty?"

The Khatta just shrugs. He mutters something under his breath that sounds somewhat nonsensical.

The two cheetahs pop into the graveyard, Testament-Blaze picking up his lantern again, and Burr carrying both shovels.

Willow points to the headstone with Chiria's name on it. "Start digging, and if you hit a coffin don't open it. Just clear it off and signal me." She steps back and focuses her attention on the Khatta again. "The lands here are in pretty sorry shape. Kiri isn't much of a ruler."

Burr starts digging, while Testament-Blaze finds a place to hang the lantern. Neither of them pays any heed to the Khatta.

"Great. Yet again I'm the only one who can see the spook." Willow shakes her head and looks down at Tachiri and Ria's headstones. "You probably won't tell me what Abzhalom did to the children if I asked you, would you?"

"I'll wait and see how much you can figure out on your own first," the Khatta replies. "You're not going to believe me until you check everything out for yourself anyway. At least, that's my guess."

Burr keeps digging. The shovel makes a scraping noise. Testament-Blaze joins in, and they start clearing away dirt.

"We'll see." Willow glances down at the Khatta's legs, recalling what King Vrixt had said about Dagh being of the Kattha with the "beast legs" instead of having the more humanoid legs that she currently bears before walking over to join the two cheetahs.

Verified by a quick glance, the Khatta's legs are plantigrade, not digitigrade.

The cheetahs seem to be making pretty good headway, having unearthed a small coffin … and it looks like they're uncovering bits of another. They must not have bothered burying these too deeply.

Making a quiet note of this to herself, Willow kneels down at the first coffin and squints at the lid. "Burr… hammer and chisel. The nails should give fairly easily after so long."

The eerie sounds of weeping echo through the graveyard.

Burr pries away at the lid. Wood cracks, and it's not a clean removal, as several pieces are broken off before he can get the lid off properly … but inside is a tiny Skreek skeleton, wrapped up in decayed swaddling clothes.

Willow swallows at the sight of the baby, momentarily hit with the guilt that she's just defaced a baby's grave. She shrugs it off for now and kneels down closer to the coffin, looking for bits of hair or any bits of clothing that might hint at the baby's name or identity. "The rest of them, Burr. And try to be reverent."

Upon further inspection, it looks like a nameplate has fallen off of the coffin lid. It will take some cleaning, though, to make out the name. Burr, meanwhile, resumes digging, while Testament-Blaze makes more signed prayers.

Willow carefully pulls out the name plate and begins madly scrubbing it against her shirt, occasionally spitting on it to loosen the dirt up. ( If this is Chiria, then it doesn't mean anything. If it's not Chiria, then it doesn't mean anything either. I don't even know if I want it to be Chiria or not… )

It takes some cleaning, but the letters at last become visible, about the time that Burr's shovel strikes hard wood again. "Inri."

The Skreek swallows and carefully closes the coffin as well as she can. ( Not mine… I mean… not hers. Okay. ) She scoots out of the hole and looks at the latest coffin, this time searching for a nameplate before she opens it.

This time, the nameplate is easier to find. Takiri. And Burr and Testament-Blaze, having found out just where in the ground that paydirt is to be found, make a quick job of uncovering the others. Shari. Chiria.

Once again, the wind carries the sound of bitter weeping to Willow's ears.

Willow flattens her ears. "Stop your bawling. Crying never solved anything and if you don't have anything useful to say, you might as well shut your yap." She feels her chest tighten at the sight of Chiria's coffin and narrows her eyes. "Burr, open it," the Skreek hisses, pointing at the thing. "Time to find out for sure."

Testament-Blaze gives Willow a confused look, then turns back to look at the coffin as Burr pries it open – taking special care this time.

The lid comes open … revealing the skeleton of a baby Skreek, wrapped in the remains of swaddling clothes.

"Here lies Chiria Naochi," purrs the black Khatta. "Case closed… ?"

The gray Skreek's held breath comes out explosively. She carefully kneels down and examines the tiny skeleton further, checking for the plantigrade leg stance, hair color, and any signs of how the child might have died.

Alas, there's only so much that can be told from just a skeleton. The Skreek skeleton is indeed plantigrade. As for hair, it surely didn't have much, and there's not really anything that can prove its hair color at birth, from what little can be found here. But nothing is there to disprove the claim of the nameplate that this is, indeed, Chiria Naochi.

Willow stands up and shoots a glance at the specter. "The other two – open them."

The black Khatta shrugs, as Burr opens the other. These, as well, are occupied, and the bodies are in no better condition.

The Skreek shakes her head. "Bury them again. I've gotten my answers." She walks back over and stands in front of the Black Khatta, "All right, so I'm not that Chiria. It's all a coincidence. I knew I wasn't a scruddy princess like everyone was claiming."

The black Khatta laughs. "Is that a relief to you? Should I just leave it there, where you're satisfied? Or should I stir things up a bit? You came a long way just to dig up graves."

"Looks like you've been doing plenty stirring already." Willow taps the markings under her eye. "If you have answers then spill them, otherwise I'm going back to my room at the Inn. It looks like I'm about dry on answers here unless there's anything to be gained from digging up Tachiri or his wife."

The black Khatta looks intently at Willow. Burr and Testament-Blaze pause in their work, staring at her as well.

The Khatta says, "Here is the story. Tachiri's story is not unusual. Many a time has there been a man who could not spawn a son. It's a malady that has afflicted those intent upon a male heir for ages. Tachiri had a close association with the House of Dack, and had the help of Abzhalom, the Life Mage, to cover up his foul way of dealing with the problem. Tachiri, not wishing to merely murder his daughters and get nothing out of it, sacrificed them upon an altar beneath Naochi castle."

"All of them," purrs the Khatta, "save for one. Abzhalom replaced the fourth with a changeling, and, conspiring with Ria, arranged for the child to be sent away."

The Skreek stiffens, her grip on the staff tightening. "A changeling? Like… oh fires… the rhyme… "

The Khatta continues, "Ria slipped out near the border of this land, and gave the child away, arranging for her to be taken far away to Himar. And there she grew up."

The Khatta purrs, "Or am I just lying to you? I would tell you that I am not. But we hardly know each other. Why should you trust me, a stranger?"

Burr signs, "Done here? Bury babies again?"

Willow shrugs, "You've lied to me before. You might even have plans for me that you're setting me up for right now." She momentarily drops her gaze down before snapping her head back up again, not wanting to look away from someone she… fears? "What the hell does it matter anyways? Even if it was true, what good would it do me? The Snicjers just find me better and I don't even look like what I used to before." She taps her eye again. "And this. Did you put this into my head? I scruddy didn't even know what the mark of Naochi was and here I went and had it etched on my face thinking it was a little piracy reminder."

"YES," she signs angrily at the cheetah, her gaze never wavering from the specter.

The Khatta shifts a bit. "Now … now, calm down. You're going into hysterics. How could I have lied to you before? We haven't even met before. And I assure you, that mark … Oh … Ahhhh. I see now… " He drums his fingers against each other silently.

Burr's ears flick back … and he immediately starts to clumsily putting the lids back on the coffins. Testament-Blaze signs some more prayers over each, then joins in.

Willow's eyes narrow all the more. "I'm angry – there's a difference between anger and hysteria. If I was hysterical, I'd be smashing Tachiri's stone to pieces right now. Bad enough that these two spotties think I'm a loon for arguing with thin air right now." She pauses to catch her breath. "What is it you see, eh?"

The Khatta sighs. "Must be wearing off. Blasted wild magic … "

Burr gives a nervous glance in the direction of the black Khatta.

Testament-Blaze looks that way, and abruptly starts, dropping his shovel and staggering backwards, making the sign of the Star several times over his chest.

The Skreek smirks. "I just have one question… "

"Yes?" asks the Khatta.

"What are you doing so far away from your lands, Prince Sebazhan?" The rat's tail swings back and forth. "Would you like a ride back to Castle Dack, or do you already have something pre-arranged?"

"I was waiting for you, of course," purrs the mildly-annoyed black Khatta. He waves his hands around. "Yes, yes, spotties, it's a black Khatta. I'm not a ghost. Not that there aren't enough of those roaming about here regardless. And, yes, thank you, I have my own transportation."

Testament-Blaze pauses, then looks to Willow, signing, "A sorcerer?"

Willow brushes off her fur. "Wanted to meet me face to face? I'm not all that impressive, really." She nods to the priest, "Apparently."

The Prince purrs, "I happen to be skilled in the Sphere of Shadow … with a little dabbling in the Sphere of Mind. I keep tabs on what happens in the rest of our little country, and one of my informants caught wind of a new Naochi headed this way. I found out more … and determined that this would be the best place to meet you." He shrugs. "I had hoped to put on a better show, but you're harder to impress than I'd expected."

"You could have just waited for when we caravanned by your castle to do some trading." The Skreek leans on her staff. "So now that we've met… what now? I'm not here to oust Kiri, partially because I couldn't prove worth a flick that I was a Naochi and partially because you couldn't pay me enough to take his bandit-ridden, ghost covered, bankrupt country."

The Prince shrugs. "I suppose, yes, it has its downsides. I'm sure the people wouldn't mind a change in leadership … but I'm not here to encourage you to make things any more complicated here, either. You're a traveler, after all. And travelers don't stay and rule fiefdoms."

Burr, apparently convinced that Willow is not being assaulted by a specter, resumes burying the coffins again.

"So why are you here? Surely a prince has better things to do than watch someone dig up their ancestors?" Willow frowns slightly. "I can't believe you'd leave your lands, travel to this pit of a country and blow a bunch of magic just to see a rat dig a hole."

Prince Sebazhan shrugs. "Oh, there are worse ways to spend my time… but, really, come now. An heir to my neighboring Principality – one which my family has a long history of close association with – is alive and well after all these years off in Himar or wherever, and she's headed eastward to Naochi in search of answers. You expect me to just sit back and see what happens?"

Wailing and shrieking echoes on the wind, coming from somewhere further down the valley.

"If the story you just told me wasn't a bunch of hooey, that is." Willow holds up a finger. "What did it cost Ria to have her baby taken away instead of killed?"

Willow bristles, clutching her staff tighter.

"Actually, I don't know the answer to that one," responds the Khatta, glancing down the valley. "Abzhalom claimed to be a High Priest of Dagh. I suppose it had something to do with his worship of my exalted ancestor … and that business about bringing him back to Sinai."

"And you're not in on all of that?" The Skreek tilts her head sideways.

Testament-Blaze continues signing prayers to the Star, while Burr pats down the last of the dirt shoveled back over the coffins.

Prince Sebazhan shrugs. "Oh, I'm in on it, whether I like it or not, being the heir to the House of Dack. If my dear ancestor shows up, I'll be a good host and offer him tea, but I'm not going to be performing any dark rituals and sacrificing blood to the gods to bring him back. If he's such a powerful Dark God, he can find his own way here."

Willow puts a hand on her hip. "Well, scrud. Here I was hoping things would be nice and simple with you being the puppeteer for Dagh's strings and I could have a nice yell fest at you for muddling up my life." She snorts. "Er. No hard feelings about that?"

Prince Sebazhan says, "I'd be happy to oblige, but … So … You saw Dagh, then, did – " His sentence is broken off by a high shriek. "Ah … that's getting close. Did you walk here? If so, can I offer you a ride in my carriage? I don't think we want to be here when things get really exciting."

Something is seeming very fuzzy about things. Willow finds herself stumbling for a moment, as if she had a brief dizzy spell.

"It's a long story, one with enough bumps in it that I'd rather not remember." The Skreek looks in the direction of the screams, her nose twitching at the air. "Can you fit the spotties as well? I suppose that if you wanted to roll us all you could have already done – ugh." She grips her staff again and holds onto it to anchor herself.

"Certainly," says Prince Sebazhan, but his voice is becoming more faint. Testament-Blaze's lantern light is growing dim. A black carriage rolls up, drawn by two skeletal Drokars, and the two cheetahs and the Khatta walk up to it.

A chill wind blows over Willow … and it feels as if it passes through her as well. A voice – seemingly her own – whispers in her ear, "I died for you. I died for you. And this is how you repay me?"

"Burr! Testy! Stop!" Willow holds her staff out and points it at the carriage. "This isn't… it's not… " She snarls and swings wildly at the air. "Who's saying that? Ria?"

The earth crumbles and falls in on itself here and there, as graves burst open. The withered, bony forms of a couple of once-regal Skreeks rise from the graves of Ria and Tachiri Naochi.

"You've come back to me … my baby!" gutters the voice of Ria, as she reaches out to Chiria with bony hands, powdered flesh crumbling and falling free from the joints.

Willow stands her ground. "Died for me, only after you let that animal kill three of your children, beat you to a pulp, and leave his brat of a son for your heir. And what life did you leave me? An animal? Clinging to anyone who might love me? Don't you dare touch me – you're as guilty of murder as that monster you married." She holds her staff out to keep the skeleton at bay.

The wraith of Tachiri stumbles toward Willow. "You worthless, pathetic, mistake! You shouldn't be breathing! You should be there!" He points with a bony hand at the coffin with Chiria's name on it. "You're just a filth-wallowing piece of street trash!"

"And you … a monster. Only appropriate that you died a monster's death. I've met pirates with more compassion than you. You've got exactly what you deserve, you brought your whole kingdom to ruin all because you wanted a son. Well you have one and he's turned your kingdom into a big scruddy joke. This graveyard is in better shape than your lands. Appropriate." Willow spits at the wraith's feet. "C'mere pap, let your daughter give you a little token of appreciation." She twirls her staff. "I'll have you looking like a dandy pile of firewood in no time."

The wraith roars in anger, charging at Willow, bony claws extended. "SEIZE HER!" he commands, and shambling corpses in tattered leather armor shuffle to obey their dead Prince's order.

Screaming, Willow charges the wraith of Tachiri, bringing her staff down to slam across its skull.

Tachiri's crown caves in, and his jaw splits, shattering as the pieces shoot off in different directions. But the corpse soldiers are upon Willow, grabbing her from every direction. And Ria's claws dig into her as well – all the while, the apparition of her mother crooning, "My baby … my baby … come back to mother at last… "

"I'm not your baby! I stopped being your baby when you abandoned me!" the Skreek screams, swinging her staff out in an arc as she tries to beat back the creatures with one great sweep.

The creatures swarm in on Willow, as she thrashes about … but then a particularly strong arm grabs her, pinning her down … but instead of bone and decayed flesh … it feels like muscle. Muscle and fur. And a bit of body odor, truth be told.

And the whole ground bounces, as if the whole earth were riding down a broken mountain road.

"Let me go! I – " Willow squirms a bit in the grip of her new 'attacker', but she also know the smell of her slave. Slowly, she opens her eyes and forces her knotted muscles to relax.

Willow is riding in a black carriage … hopefully not drawn by skeletal Drokars, but honestly there's no way to tell right now. She's held in place by Burr, while Testament-Blaze is leaning over her and signing prayers again. Prince Sebazhan has his eyes closed, muttering something, and then his eyes open as Willow relaxes. "Ah! Good, she's back."

The Skreek pats the cheetah's fur as if to check to see if he's real. "The corpses. They all came to life! They… oh frick I think I'm going to toss that ale I had."

Burr's eyes go wide, and he quickly helps Willow over to the window.

She sticks her head out of the carriage window and inhales deeply, trying to get the night air to calm her insides down before they leap out of her gullet. "Now THAT was what 'hysterical' looks like."

A Dromodon marches down the street, heading the other direction, ridden by a regal-looking Skreek, who turns to look at Willow and nod. And then he rides right through a solid wall and vanishes.

"Don't let her stay there too long," advises Prince Sebazhan. "It's still bad out there."

Willow stares out after the carriage before yanking her head back inside. "How long was I out?"

"A few minutes," replies the black Khatta. "I tried to snap you out of it as quickly as I could … but I had a lot to fight."

"Was it real?" The Skreek sinks back down in her seat, rubbing her temples.

"Real?" Sebazhan echoes, then shakes his head. "No, whatever you were fighting was in your own mind. But this is a place of magic. Who is to say whether the ghosts we see are really the spirits of the departed … or mere echoes, ripples of their existence in this world … or entities that have chosen to take the forms of those we remember? That is a matter for philosophers, not mages."

"How did you find out what happened to Chiria, anyways? Did Abzhalom tell you?" She looks around for her staff.

Sebazhan nods. "Yes, though I was very young at the time. About six years old, I think. Abzhalom didn't hang around long enough to tell me what happened with Kiri … but I figure that Ria didn't die in childbirth as claimed."

Willow's staff is in Testament-Blaze's possession, and he notices her gaze. He sheepishly hands it over.

The Skreek carefully inspects the head of the staff for any signs of it recently being used to attack something with. "Thanks for pulling me out of there. Unfortunately crazy bits of magic have a way of working on me easier than most." She peers out the window again. "Where are we going?"

The staff has a bit of matted blood and golden fur on some of the metal bits.

Prince Sebazhan says, "Well … if you have no objections, I'm taking you back by the inn. It took a bit of pantomiming from your helmeted friend here, but I'm guessing you're staying at the Ember Inn."

Willow puts her hand on the blood, "Oh fires… which one of you did I hit? I didn't mean… " She bites her lip.

Burr signs, "Just me." He has a bandage wrapped around one leg.

Prince Sebazhan says, "Ah … I'm afraid we had a bit of a scuffle bringing you in. The big fellow got hit, but your helmeted friend bandaged him up. I'm guessing it must not be terribly bad."

"Oh Burr, I'm sorry. I had no idea," she signs and cradles her head in one hand. "Yes, we're staying at the Ember Inn, and probably visiting Prince Kiri in the morning. Um… that reminds me, why are you buying back all the lands he's selling off? That must be crunching you something terrible."

Prince Sebazhan shrugs. "Yes, but I'm still getting them dirt cheap. Literally. It's a matter of national pride. Though, I must confess, I'm not above a little treasure-hunting on my newfound lands, and I don't plan on handing them back so long as Kiri is on the throne."

"You may not care terribly about this dirty, dingy land," the Prince says, "and there are plenty of scummy wretches to be found … but there are some good, decent people caught in the middle of it all. Good, decent Krozites. How would you like it, if the land your house was built on got sold to some Olympians, and you had to move out?"

Willow hops closer to Burr and grabs his leg, inspecting the damage and pulling some herbs from her pouch. "Treasure hunting? Hmmm, well… I hope you can eventually do something about the bandits. Thankfully the ones we ran into weren't very skilled. They had soft heads too."

The Prince says, "Well, I can't very well go bashing heads on Kiri's property. Not without due cause. But if any of them happen to trouble me, I'll be happy to oblige."

The carriage rolls to a stop right in front of the Ember Inn. All of the windows have been shuttered … and a Skreek maiden holding a bouquet of flowers walks past, a bit of riverweed tangled in her hair and in her soaked dress.

"Heh, wonder if that one was carrying the basket I found a ways back." Willow pats Burr's dressings and brushes herself off. "Well, Prince Sebazhan, I'm much obliged for the ride and I hope we can do some trading when I pass through your way again. Any advice on how to handle Kiri?"

Prince Sebazhan opens the door and hops down, then pulls down some wooden steps. He offers Willow his hand to help her out of the carriage. "Well, don't let him think you're afraid of him. That will only encourage him. Being overly polite will just allow him to walk all over you. Be firm, though not overly quick to take the offensive. That is the best way, I think."

"That's me all over," the Skreek smirks, nervously taking the prince's hand as she steps out of the carriage. "And thanks for pulling me out of that mess in the graveyard. Hopefully I can repay you for it later."

As Burr and Testament-Blaze get out of the carriage as well, Prince Sebazhan smiles at Willow and kisses her hand … in a way that is an awful lot like the way that Dagh did in that dream. "You owe me nothing, Lady Naochi. It is my pleasure."

"My name's Willow-the-Wisp, or Foxfire if you prefer. Chiria Naochi stopped existing after a whole big mess in Rephidim that I might explain to you later." She rubs the top of her hand and signs. "I'd better get back to my room now, Copy might have wrung that poor Kavi's neck for all I know for not hushing up."

"As you wish," says the Khatta Prince, adding a bow. "I will be going now. You should be safe in the inn. And I don't think I'll be staying on the street much longer myself. I shudder to think what sorts of hitchhikers I might pick up at this time of night!"

"See you in a week or so. I'm not too sure when… but I have the feeling you'll probably know when I start heading your way." She puts an arm on Burr's shoulder in a really horrible attempt to support him with his leg wound and pounds on the door to the Inn. "Lemme in! I paid for my room and I scruddy want in so I can enjoy it!"

The carriage rolls away with Prince Sebazhan on it … and a quick glance reveals that the Drokars are in fact living creatures, not the skeletal beasts that appeared in Willow's delusion. There is the sound of rattling bolts, and the door pops open to let Willow and her companions in. In a short while, she's in the safety of a room shared with a mutt, two cheetahs and a (fortunately sleeping) Kavi.

The Skreek chunks some of the extra pillows on the floor for Burr to use before settling into bed herself. She slowly drifts off to sleep with the noises of the ghosts outside ringing in her ears and confused thoughts about who she really is bouncing through her head. In her hands she clutches a tiny pink blanket half eaten by bugs.