Much time has passed since the first interrogation with Inquisitor Melchizedek. Enough time for wounds to heal, enough time to be moved from the Infirmary to what is surely jokingly referred to as the "Economy Guest Suites". (A dungeon by any other name still smells as bad.)

The daily routine … though it's hard to tell one day from the next … has come along the lines of: drag the jaguar out of the cell … take him to the office, strapped to that chair … ask him questions, starting with "What is your name?" … no answers being given … being dragged back to the cell once more, and left in the darkness …

The water is clean, the food is awful. The company is nonexistent, aside from the occasional yells and howls from the other cells.

And, so, yet another cycle in the same routine. H'rral is roused by a couple of wolf guards, who take him, shackled, down a maze of twisting corridors (all alike) to Inquisitor Melchizedek's office.

Inside the office, the wall-mounted lighting flickers even more than do the candles added to supplement their glow. A desk is piled high with forms and paperwork – a pile which seems to only grow rather than shrink, despite all the time that unicorn must spend scribbling away. The chair, badly in need of replacement of that horrid upholstery, sits to one side, and the strange golden helm is perched on a corner of the desk, with the wall-mounted throw-switch nearby.

The robed unicorn faces away, not even turning or saying anything to acknowledge the arrival of the jaguar or his lupine escorts. Nor does he say anything when the guards remove the jaguar's bindings.

H'rral gives the guards a rather surprised look.

The guards head back out the doorway, and a third one starts cranking on a wheel to close it. Some time ago, during H'rral's stay here, the door stopped functioning of its own volition, and had to be hand-cranked in order to open or close. About that same time, a new grating appeared over the air duct opening leading into the office.

"Take a seat, would you?" the unicorn says, still writing away. For a moment, with the acoustics, it might take a moment to even discern whether the voice came from the unicorn at all.

H'rral rubs his wrists as he sits down.

The Inquisitor still sits at his desk, finishing one form and adding it to a very small "out" pile. "You have been very stubborn, and I get tired of the routine, especially since I have had many distractions as of late, and need no more to occupy my attention."

"For the sake of novelty, let us try something different. Perhaps you have some questions you would like to ask," the Inquisitor says, starting on a new form.

H'rral looks up from his wrists. "Why are you doing this?"

"You will have to define 'this'," the black unicorn replies, pen unceasing.

H'rral shrugs, his head and shoulders dipping a little to one side, "Keeping me chained. Asking questions of me."

"Because you are an Exile. You are a stranger from an alien world. Before you can simply be allowed to run about as you please, it must be determined what manner of a threat you might pose … or what you might be able to contribute," the unicorn answers. "So far, you have appeared uncooperative, with the potential for hostility, yet there have also been indications of redeeming qualities. I am not content to leave things in the gray, as it were." The unicorn continues scribbling away.

H'rral slumps back in his chair, "What are you talking about? What alien world?"

"I was hoping that perchance you would have an answer to that question," the unicorn replies. "You are, after all, not from Sinai. That much is evident. While you might pass for a Savanite, it is clear that you are not one. And, based upon my investigation, your first known appearance was near one of the Forbidden Zones in the jungle of the Savan."

"And, if it is necessary to clarify – in case you haven't picked up much chatter during your stay here – you are on the world of Sinai, presently in the city of Rephidim, in the Temple, to be exact," the Inquisitor unicorn adds.

H'rral stares at the unicorn for a minute. Then, very slowly, he says, "I can't answer that. I thought that I was just in another place… Before… " He gestures toward the helmet, "… THAT… I did not even have a word for the concept."

The Inquisitor says, "That is very interesting. But surely the sky would have looked different to you. The odds are strongly against your world having the same stars visible in the sky … of having a ring around it as this one does … and many other worlds have at least one moon. The variations are endless."

H'rral makes a face, "I never had a clear view of the sky. I woke up in a jungle, and never saw much beyond the leaves. Even on that … airship? … I did not see the sky, and did not pay attention when we were freed."

The unicorn nods. "Yes, that would be plausible, based on the results of my investigation." Another form goes to the "out" pile … and yet another is taken off the larger tower of remaining forms to be filled.

H'rral slumps in the chair, "H… *swallow* How can I get home?"

"Unfortunately," the Inquisitor answers, emotionlessly, "I know of no answer to that question. Due to the as-yet-unexplained phenomena known as the Forbidden Zones, Exiles such as yourself show up on occasion … and, as of late, with increasing frequency … but no way has been discovered to reverse the process."

H'rral's face freezes and he brings his hands and head together. A moment later it is apparent that he is taking very deep breaths.

The Inquisitor shows no response. He seems content to keep working on forms, occasionally pausing to read reports, then to go into a flurry of signing in triplicate, making notes, and so forth.

H'rral takes one last, long breath and lifts his head from his hands an inch or two. "The jungle-cats… they called me 'Speaker'."

"So they did," the unicorn comments.

H'rral shrugs, "That is as good a name as any."

H'rral sits up and swallows.

"If that shall suffice for your name, then that is what I shall record in my report. If you have any more proper name you would rather be called by, please let me know now. I disdain making unnecessary edits," the Inquisitor says.

"If you have no more questions for me, perhaps I should move along with what questions I have for you," the Inquisitor adds.

H'rral halfsmiles, without humor. "The name I was given at birth hardly seems important anymore."

H'rral continues, "I will answer what I can."

"That is good to hear. Now then … I realize that the concept of being from another 'world' is a shock to you, but what is the name of the 'place' that you came from? And, how did you manage to get from there to here, to the best of your knowledge?" the Inquisitor asks, while setting aside another report.

H'rral shrugs, looking at a loss, "I… it… I don't guess it had a name. It was just the ground we walked on. I never gave it any thought. As for how I got here, I made someone mad. I was a little hungry and thought to steal some food. I got caught."

H'rral blinks, "There was a flash of light, and a pain. Then I woke up in the jungle.

"Hmm." The unicorn scribbles something on a form to one side, before returning to the one in front of him. "What was your occupation before you came here? What are your skills? And – what do you expect to do while on Sinai?"

H'rral hmphs, his voice sounding a little stressed, "It matters?" He coughs a few times and composes himself, "I… um. I didn't have a job. I was a runaway. I wanted to do more than hunt, eat, and sleep."

"Yes, it matters," the Inquisitor comments. "You see, it is a matter of protocol that all incoming Exiles must be studied and Processed. That is why all those tests were run on you by the Healer-Priests. While you may have thought otherwise at points, they were not intended as torture … even though some here suspect as much when they are required to take a physical examination."

H'rral narrows his lips. "And punching me in the gut?"

"No, that was something entirely different. That was intended to be painful," the unicorn continues without skipping a beat, "There are costs involved with your Processing, with the forms to be filed, with your incarceration, and such. It is one of my duties to determine how the fee for Processing is to be assessed, which comes to the amount of one gold shekel."

"I have several options, many of them less than appealing, and perhaps even ironic. You could be sold into slavery. You could be pressed into service for the Temple to pay off your debt. Or, you could somehow come up with one gold coin, either on your own, or by the sponsorship of another," the unicorn adds.

H'rral stares at the other for a long minute. "I will find some way to pay you for the food, the room, and the healing."

"Have you any skills?" the unicorn asks. "That would make my options all the easier to deal with. Evidently, you have some prowess as a fighter, at the very least."

H'rral watches the unicorn for a few seconds, "I can fight. I can climb. I hunt okay. There wasn't much room to learn more than that."

"That is a start. I will have to consider the options. If I were a less scrupulous Inquisitor, I could also claim that you have some experience with airships. Have you any strong aversion to working aboard an airship? As a crewmember, that is. Not cargo," the unicorn clarifies.

H'rral shudders, "If I had to, I could cope."

"Well," the unicorn says, setting another report aside. "I think that shall suffice for questions from me for now. I may have more, once I see what openings there may be. If only I could be certain we could keep tabs on you, I'd see if you might be able to earn your gold – and then some – as a bounty hunter. None seem to be responding greatly to that employment opportunity at present."

H'rral blinks. "Bounty Hunter?

"Yes," the unicorn says. "According to our tests, you are built for superior strength, phenomenal agility, and you have a rather uncanny sense of sight in places where others cannot see at all. Furthermore, your fighting prowess is plain to see."

The unicorn adds in Savanite sign language, "And, given your appearance and this particular skill you have picked up, you would have certain opportunities to pass yourself off as someone quite harmless."

The Inquisitor verbally adds, "… though you would need a bit of makeup for the tearmarks."

"Don't worry," the Inquisitor says, "for Azhtar did not betray your little 'secret'."

H'rral stops with his hand about halfway to his face. "It wasn't a secret."

H'rral leans forward, "Do you know how many of the others survived that crash?"

"Most of them," the unicorn answers, scribbling away on another sheet, "though it is impossible to get an exact count. The slavers may have been thorough in their mapmaking and logs, but we could find no specific records on how many there should have been in the hold. After all, such is their trade that much of their cargo dies in transit."

H'rral clenches his fists, "Maps? You know where they were coming from?"

"A few wounded were found, and by all signs, there were many who escaped on foot or who were borne away. The patrol vessel that found you, however, had no reason to give pursuit. If any of the crew on board survived, they left before the patrol ship arrived. There was evidence of some quick looting," the unicorn pauses. "Yes. The map was an integral part in my determining where you had come from."

"A note was made in the log that at a village that had some sort of arrangement with the slavers, one of their catches came on board of his own volition. Based on other notes, I came to the conclusion that this was likely referring to you," the unicorn explains.

H'rral leans back in his chair and slowly unclenches his fists. "I w… I would like to know how to get there."

"Why?" the unicorn asks.

H'rral swallows, "I want to know the answer to that question from them."

"You shall have a hard time at it, then. Nature abhors a vacuum … and so does the slaving trade in the Savan. The village may have had an agreement with the Rotten Eye, but once word got around that it was no longer around to defend its territory, someone else moved in. Based on what we found, it seems the village was caught entirely off-guard," the unicorn replies.

"The slaver industry," the unicorn adds, "is quite cutthroat, after all. Literally."

H'rral lowers his gaze to look at the edge of the Inquisitor's desk. "Then I will hunt them down."

"I shall keep records on hand as to its location. Until the matter of your Processing fee has been settled, I cannot imagine any excuse that would warrant sending you to that region … but if you should desire to set out on any quests on your own once you are free from obligation, I see no reason to withhold my findings from you," the Inquisitor says. "As for those who have wronged you, it is quite likely that they are all dead or in shackles by now."

H'rral looks up again, "Some things, you never forget."

"True. But slavers do not keep records of where their catches came from. There is a whole wide world to search, full of markets for strong-backed and close-mouthed Savanites. I would advise you to first focus upon your own well-being before you fret over how to deny it to others." The Inquisitor makes steady progress on what appeared previously to be an insurmountable pile of forms.

H'rral leans forward in his chair. "I'll be your hunter."

The unicorn puts down his pen. "Well, well. I am a bit surprised. For me to consider such an option is a bit of a risk … for it means that you shall be spending a great deal of time on your own, with little or no supervision."

"You might, after all, decide to bolt off, leaving the fee unpaid… " the unicorn ponders. "But you would have plenty of incentive not to do that. Being on your own could be very dangerous on this world, all for the simple misfortune of your spots, and because of traditions set in stone."

H'rral tilts his head to the side, listening.

"All some unscrupulous wretch has to do is snip out your tongue, and you are, for all the world can tell, naught but a Savanite. That shall always be a danger, no matter what course you follow, unless perhaps you take up the life of a hermit in one of the Forbidden Zones, where airships cannot safely fly," the unicorn adds.

"On the other hand … there is an advantage to how others shall underestimate you. Your existence is not entirely secret, but it is hardly so newsworthy as to spread far. That may be used to your advantage … so long as you have allies at hand," the unicorn says.

H'rral chuckles softly.

"I shall want to learn more about your values and beliefs. It is not in my interests to send you after someone who you would not consider guilty of a crime. Moral conflicts can cost lives in this business," the unicorn states firmly. "Shall you have any qualms about being sent after murderers and assassins?" the unicorn asks.

H'rral shakes his head, "No.

H'rral says, "No qualms at all."

"Good. There are plenty of prospects for you to pursue … some of them which would earn you not only your freedom, but enough to build your own mansion if you cared to. But there are reasons for such sizeable bounties – So, let us start with something more modest," the unicorn muses, and shuffles through some of his papers.

H'rral rests his forearms on his legs and waits.

The unicorn raises his eyebrows. "Aha. Here we go. If you should prove successful, minus expenses you will have achieved one fifth of your fee." He pulls out a report.

H'rral waits to hear what the job will be.

The unicorn hands a sketch sheet to the jaguar, showing an artist's rendition of face (showing some distinctive scars and tattoos), profile, body… It's a snake-like being, with a humanoid upper torso with two arms, but its lower body is just one very long serpentine coil.

H'rral stares at the picture. "I killed one of these on the slaver ship.

"Of course, you have to keep in mind that there are many expenses involved in doing this properly. There is the matter of equipment, informants, establishing a network of contacts … Now, for this first mission, we'll be /providing/ most of what you'll need. I'm taking a bit of a chance, as someone else could do this – and will likely be miffed that I've put you in instead – but it's as good an opportunity as any," the unicorn continues.

H'rral nods slowly.

"That is a Naga," the unicorn explains. "They come in many varieties and sizes. And, yes, we found a dead Rattler on the ship. That was your handiwork? Good. Perhaps you guessed that many Nagas – especially Rattlers – have a poisonous bite."

H'rral shakes his head, "No, but I didn't want it making any noise.

The unicorn frowns. "Ah. Well then, chalk this up to experience – and luck. Rattlers have the curious habit of shaking their tails any time they are agitated, and it appears they have no conscious control over this. Most are too proud to do anything so drastic as to remove the offending 'rattle'. Their bite, I assure you, is quite harmful."

H'rral continues to stare at the picture, trying to memorize it. Absently he says, "Then I won't get bit."

"This particular thug has the unimaginative name of 'Snake Eyes'," the unicorn adds. "And he has distinctive scars and scale-brands as depicted on the sheet before you. You may keep it. It is but a third-generation copy."

H'rral nods. "Presumably he is somewhere fairly close. You would not trust me to go far."

"That is correct. Most lowlifes of this variety keep their activities limited to Darkside for the most part. This one, however, has gotten a bit bold and cocky … but he has thwarted attempts to capture him, as apparently he has many friends and informants who alert him when guards come to apprehend him. He is comfortable enough in his routine that he has been making frequent appearances at the Three Thieves Inn, which is a semi-reputable establishment not far from Darkside." The unicorn hands H'rral a map of the city, marking off the major quarters and a number of landmarks, including the location of the Three Thieves Inn, the Bazaar, Freedom Park, and more.

"Now, to have you pose as a Savanite going into the Inn for a drink just would not work. Savanites do not have time off to socialize. And they can't ask questions," the unicorn continues. "Therefore, we will have to arrange for a disguise. Your spots will not prove to be an advantage just yet."

H'rral glances over the map, then nods, "I'll want to look around before I go there." He looks at himself, making a face. "Are all the black-furred cats on this … world… slaves, too?"

The unicorn shakes his head. "No. Only the spotted ones. The notion of trying to disguise a Savanite's spots is nothing new. But none will be worried about such things – especially when you have a perfectly good tongue to use … and when you have a few shekels to spend. Yes, you'll be given an 'allowance'. It will be up to you, however, to come up with your 'cover story', and any other particulars. I want to see how you think."

H'rral nods, "All right. I would prefer it that way anyway."

H'rral says, "Who do I talk to if I need something?"

"You will be given a great deal of freedom. In case plans should go awry, you can always flee to the Temple. However, it is best to have a second story handy. After all, this is only the beginning. You have only one voice. Arrangements will have to be made for contacts. I will not risk the identities of any operatives. However, I will make arrangements with a few well-trusted Jupani guards in the vicinity," the unicorn adds.

H'rral nods.

H'rral says, "What's a Jupani?"

"At first, you shall have only your brawn and your tooth and claw for weapons, I must warn you. After this first mission, I shall see about arranging for more," the unicorn says. "The guards who escorted you here to my office are Jupanis."

"They are also known as 'wolves'," the unicorn adds.

H'rral halfsmiles. "Oh. Thanks."

The unicorn hmms. "An arrangement will have to be made for disguising your scent as well. Many races here – Jupanis included – are gifted with especially keen senses of smell and can 'mark' you by your distinctive scent, disguise or no."

H'rral nods thoughtfully.

"Your training with the Learning Machine should have included reading as well. You may not be familiar with the exercise, but you shall have to get used to it. You shall have much reading to do, lest you be too suspicious for not knowing such things," the unicorn nods.

H'rral nods again, "I had intended to ask if you had a library. I'll want to spend some time there."

"I think that shall do for now. Have you any more questions before I send you on a tour of the library?" the unicorn asks.

H'rral shakes his head. "Nothing comes to mind immediately."

"Well then," the unicorn reaches to tug at a cord hanging nearby. The door begins to creak open. "You will have much learning ahead of you. And when you finally reach the Three Thieves, don't plan on pouncing on the snake at your first opportunity. This will take time. You will also be given a list of other criminals to be on the lookout for as well. It helps to plan ahead … and to be ready for any opportunity that presents itself."

H'rral halfsmiles, "Have some faith."

The unicorn says, "We shall see." The door opens the rest of the way, and the guards walk in. "To the library," the unicorn bids, not turning to look, as he sets aside another report. "And move him to his new quarters."

H'rral stands up and leaves the room.

H'rral pads down the hallway, listening to the door crank close behind him. Somehow, he cannot help but listen to that with the feeling of a life coming to a close and a new one beginning.