In the security of the basement of the Embassy, Ambassador Kara has called together the Savanite slaves serving this establishment, without any of her guards present. The walls are thick and cold, and there are no windows. The only lighting comes from torches set in sconces upon the walls.

The cheetahs wait patiently, as is their duty. Over them all, there is one matronly cheetah older than the others, and she has long been recognized as the one who gets the others organized and keeps the housework going. The other cheetahs are of various ages in early adulthood.

Brishen is perched atop a pair of boxes, her wings furled, her hands clasped neatly on her lap. It has been a very long day, and it shows in the shadows under her eyes, the way a few locks of hair have worked free of their bonds. She is attired in the practical fashion with which she greeted the Astromancer, what seems like years ago. Still, there's a gleam in her eyes that hasn't been there for quite some time. "I know there is a great deal of work that all of you have to do, but there's something important I need to tell you all." One hand adds, "It's not good, but it could be."

The cheetahs nod more or less in unison, and a couple of them blink surprisedly at the hand-sign, looking to the matron. She does not look back at them, but simply keeps her attention focused on the Ambassador. The others quickly catch her hint, and do likewise.

Brishen sighs quietly and continues, "I met with the Captain-Astromancer earlier today. As payment for the – damage done to the Old City by my hand, it is the will of Rephidim that all of you will be taken by the Temple, in three days, to serve as the city sees fit." Her other hand raises, her shadowed voice growing clearer, "I have other plans and friends who will see you to safety and freedom in the Savan, if you wish."

Jaws drop. It would seem that the ambassador has succeeded in utterly shocking her slaves. Only the matron manages to maintain her decorum. She signs back, "We are simple slaves who do not wish to displease our master by harboring such fantasies." She bows solemnly.

Brishen glances at the matron and continues, "This is happening much sooner than I had wanted it to and the path isn't entirely clear, nor is it safe. But I have a place, here in Rephidim where you can stay until friends from the City of Hands arrive." She smiles weakly, "After all that has been done to your people, you have every right to harbor whatever fantasy you wish."

A tear trickles down along the matron's muzzle, following the path of black fur that runs from eye to lip. She closes her eyes and bows. "Your generosity is beyond repay, mistress, for we who have nothing to give. … My hands have not the signs." Her fingers shake and she at last folds them together.

Brishen lowers her chin a little. Her face still carries the shadows of the tears she shed for Reico, in the Old City. "There is one way – The only way. I'm staying here, in Rephidim for now. There are appearances that need to be maintained, if only for a little while. But I have a feeling that it won't be long before my wings touch the air above the City of Hands. When that day comes, I want all of you to greet me as an equal. As it should be. As it should have been."

The matron looks as if she cannot decide what to use her hands for, and only wrings them together.

Brishen looks at the other slaves, her eyes meeting theirs, her eyes bright as she takes each expression and weighs it in turn. "The choice is not all mine. I need to know what each of you want. Where you want to go. Because after tonight, after now, plans will be set in motion that can't be changed."

Brishen adds, smiling a little. "If you all talk at once, I won't be able to handle it. Take turns."

The youngest of the male servants signs, excitedly, "I want to go! I want to meet a spotted princess!" Two of his fellows wiggle their ears in amusement.

Brishen grins. Her ears weren't made to wiggle, but she tries her best. It seems like the right thing to do.

One of the maids signs, "Bah! I hear tell every other Savanite maid is a princess! It's nothing special!" Her ears wiggle. "I want a pet Creen!"

Eventually, the rest break down in exchanges of excited hand-signs, relating their various hopes and dreams for this supposed paradise out in the Savan where no one is a slave, where you can pick food off of the trees, and half everybody is royalty (and the other half about as well off). It would seem that nobody has any misgivings to share just yet.

Brishen holds her hands over her mouth for a few moments, stifling laughter that would be out of place to anyone passing by. She taps the side of the box she sits atop with an ankle. "Listen – Everyone!"

Hands stop wiggling, and those who don't immediately look to Brishen get a few sharp slaps on their ears from the matron, until all eyes are on the Ambassador again.

Brishen nods. She isn't smiling when she continues, "The path to the City of Hands isn't safe. Those who follow it will be taken into the Old City. There, we will meet with a friend who will take you to where you will be safe, until friends from the City of Hands can arrive. From there – It is a long way to the Savan."

Brishen smirks a little. "And I imagine, when you reach the city, that you will find that there is hard work and that food does not leap into your hands. It isn't a paradise, but there you will all be free."

The matron nods solemnly, and the others do likewise … though some are obviously straining to suppress grins and ear-wiggles.

Brishen rolls her eyes and grins back. "I hope there's a place for a courier there. I suppose I will find out."

The matron signs, "We will follow your every order, mistress, as we have done before. And we are ready to make any preparations you desire at once. "

Brishen smiles at the matron, then hops down from her perch, furling her wings as she walks, lightly to the center of where the slaves have gathered. She sticks the tip of her tongue out in thought, then shrugs. "I had a dramatic speech ready for this moment, but I don't think my hands are quite up to it yet." She takes a deep breath and continues, "You are free."

One of the cheetahs looks at his wrists … as if looking at imaginary shackles on them. Or the lack thereof. No more finger-wiggling follows for a long pause. The matron at last signs, "May we have your leave? Until it is time to go, we have much work to do, mistress. We can't leave your embassy in such a mess."

Brishen dips her chin a little. "Please – Don't call me mistress." She fidgets a little, spelling her name out when she gets to it. "My mother named me Brishen. Perhaps it is time for a new name, one that I can hold, amongst you."

The matron looks at Brishen expectantly.

Brishen crosses her arms, fighting off a giggle. "I was hoping you could name me."

The matron crosses her arms, one hand going up to her muzzle in a gesture perhaps meant to inspire thought.

After apparently mulling over many possibilities in her head, the matron at last ventures, "Creen's-Nightsong? Your voice is well known, even amongst your servants." Ears wiggle.

Another one of the cheetahs suggests, "Flying Flower? She is always very colorful. Especially when she chooses what to wear hersel – " He abruptly snaps his fingers closed, and his ears blush. He bows apologetically.

Brishen blinks, looking over at the cheetah in question. A hand goes up to cover her mouth as she tries desperately not to laugh. The other signs, shakily, "Creen's-Nightsong. By that name shall I be known amongst the freemen."

The matron smiles in response. "May we have your leave, Creen's-Nightsong, to make preparations?"

Brishen grins, shaking her head, and holds her hands out. "Now comes the act when we all must play our parts to the hilt, when we must hold our knowledge close to our hearts because it is dangerous knowledge in the wrong hands. When the time comes for us to leave the stage, I will tell you. Until then, you must all play your parts." She turns to the matron, "Take what you can from the kitchen and hide it where it can be retrieved quickly, but far from Vykarin noses. Don't take too much and avoid the bugs because the guards will notice. Remember that you may need to run faster than you ever have before."

The matron bows at this. "It will be done as you sign."

Brishen nods, adding. "It will be a day, maybe two. No more than that."

The cheetahs nod, letting it be known that they understand, then scatter to do their duties.

---

Brishen has removed her shoes, behind the sturdy, formal desk that dominates her office. Her toes wiggle absently as she looks at a stack of documents that appear to warrant a most pensive expression, now and then applying her signature to the appropriate place. Now and then she frowns.

There's a light knock at the door. "Madame Ambassador?" the voice of a guard asks. "There's a visitor for you. Business only for the ambassador."

Brishen looks up, brushing a lock of hair from her eyes. "Yes?" She wrinkles her muzzle, slightly. "Let them in."

A white and gold head peeks into the office, followed by the rest of Envoy as she slips through the entry and closes the door behind her. "Good afternoon, Ambassador," the alien says, and bows.

Brishen nods. "Good afternoon, Envoy." She smiles tiredly. "Have you had much luck with your rubbings, recently?"

"Not yet," Envoy answers. "What with the new term starting and all, I haven't really been able to meet with any scholars yet. How are your own projects fairing?" This last is also accompanied by some hand signs: Made your decision?

Brishen shakes her head. "Well, with the Temple's recent demands, my attentions have been mostly occupied by paperwork. The least of these forms are in triplicate." She smirks, waving a hand over the aforementioned documentation. "Yes. They all decided to go."

Envoy eyes the pile of papers. "I could probably help you fill them out, if you want." In sign, she asks, "How many?"

Brishen chuckles darkly. "I'm almost done. And no doubt the Temple would object." "Eight."

"Once they're filed though, maybe you can take a vacation and relax," the Aeolun says. "All Savanites?"

Brishen shakes her head again, smiling ruefully. "There's a lot to be done after that. I don't think I shall have the chance for a proper vacation for quite some time." "Yes. Most a few years younger than I am. One matron, older. They will be travelling light. Can you handle that many?"

Envoy nods as well, "It's hard to find time anymore." She signs, "I'll have to. Is passage arranged? How long do they need to be hidden?"

Brishen nods. "Sadly, not. After this is over with I'll need to go to Rephidim and see if I can hire a few people to keep the Embassy running. I've no desire to clean the kitchen, nor scrub the floors." "Not yet. It may take some time. A week, maybe more. I have the shekels to buy food, if necessary."

Envoy rocks on her heels, thinking. "You could always hire some Kavis to come in once a week. I hear they're very good at cleaning out mansions." Eight scared and or excited Savanites for a week, with just one surrogate Shaman to keep them together. Hmm. "I'll have to plan ahead then. We'll move them out just before they are to be collected, probably, but stock supplies until then. I'll find out what is needed."

Brishen stretches her wings out a little, yawning, and tucks a lock of hair behind an ear. "Mmf. Perhaps not Kavis." "I doubt the Temple trusts me. They may have sent someone to watch the Embassy. And there are my own guards. Plans will have to be made quickly. I want everyone out by tomorrow evening at the latest."

"What about interns? I hear you don't have to pay them," Envoy suggests. "Have them prepare their belongings, and store them in the basement. Since they're leaving anyway, this won't arouse suspicion. Have them all meet in the basement after the evening chores are done, so nobody will be expecting to see them for a time. They'll be taken out from there."

Brishen smirks. "A logical choice perhaps, if I had some interns to hand a mop to. She blinks, once. "From the basement? There are no exits from the basement." She furrows her brow, slightly. "I've already asked them to prepare for the journey. Last night."

"If they can set aside enough food for one day, that would help," Envoy signs. "Or you could use Exiles, they'll work for just about anything," she says with a mocking tone.

Brishen crosses her arms. "Are you asking me for a job?" She smirks, shaking her head. "I'll have them move what they can to the basement. They were to hide what they planned to take where the Vykarin wouldn't smell it, but that can be changed. At night, there's one guard in the Embassy, the rest outside: A Vykarin on the grounds, Eeee on the roof, gates and walls. You've been here enough to know how many."

Envoy signs, "Can you arrange for the Vykarin to be on outside patrol?" "I'm still sort-of working for the Temple, as a 'floater'," she says.

Brishen nods gravely. "Well, I'm sure Degarde would appreciate clerical assistance, and I doubt anyone will deny that your memory is outstanding." She signs, as quickly as she can, "He's outside at night." She pauses, then adds, "Putting them in the basement will make it that much harder to get them out when the time comes. I can't see where that will work."

Brishen shakes her head, ruefully. "However, I'm not sure I can do that just now. My budget is rather tight."

Envoy asks, "Are the reparations costing Babel too much?" "Don't worry about it, it will be better for them to vanish while all the guards are on duty. How will I know where to bring them when it is time to get them off of the island, and do you think they would be recognizeable in public?"

Brishen shuffles a few documents across her desk, thumbing through a stack she's not gotten to quite yet. "I imagine they are rather steep, though it's not my place to determine what is too much or too little." "Better? Envoy, you had better know what you are doing." She looks at the Aeolun for a few moments. "Someone may recognize them. It wouldn't be good for them to be seen for very long. And I'll let you know when the time is right."

Envoy says, "Well, I probably shouldn't take up more of your valuable time, if I can't help you with your paperwork. I'll check back with you later to see if they're ready to be delivered back to the Temple."

Brishen smiles, nodding as she stands. "I'll have them ready soon, Envoy." "Will you be ready to take them, by tomorrow night?"

Envoy nods, and signs, "I'll be ready." "There's no rush, probably. After all, they'll probably just give a bigger stack of papers to bring back to you… "

Brishen sighs quietly. "Unfortunately, you're probably right." "Good. I wouldn't put it past the Temple to arrive early, so be prepared for leaving even faster than we'd like to."

Envoy smiles, and says, "Look at the bright side! If you're in here filling out forms, then you can ignore most of your visitors." "I'll see if things can be delayed or confused at the Temple end, but you are right about preparing to move quickly. I'll visit you after they've been hidden away to let you know."

Brishen nods, smirking. "There is that. There is that indeed." "I'll be awake that night to help get past the guards. Where do you want to meet?"

Envoy shakes her head quickly and signs, "No, I'll come by AFTER they've been moved. You need to be with DeGarde or someone else the whole time so you will have an alibi."

Brishen blinks a few times. "What? How do you plan to get past the guards on your own?"

Envoy shakes her head again, "I can't tell you, or you might give away the trick somehow by accident. Besides, if it's revealed later, you'll be surprised without having to pretend."

Brishen tilts her head a little, then shakes her head. "I just remembered something I'll need to do." She sits down again, sighing quietly. "I'm sure you know the way out, Envoy." "Alright. Alright, I'll do it. I'll have the slaves sleep in the basement for the next two nights, in case we have to start this earlier than planned. The door will be locked, there may be a guard outside. Do you think you can handle this?"

Envoy smiles and nods reassuringly. "The guards won't see anything."

Brishen's eyes widen slightly. She thinks, but does not sign, For all of our sakes, they had better not.

The Aeolun lets herself out of the office, and closes the door.

Brishen looks to the door and opens her mouth, slightly, then shakes her head. There was one other thing she needed to tell Envoy. She sighs quietly and gets back to work.

---

Two days later, a detachment of Temple guards comes to the Embassy grounds – four Jupani and two Zelaks. It's a lot to send to escort eight Savanite slaves, but reasonable considering the grounds they must be taken through, even in broad daylight. They arrive in the late afternoon, unannounced, bringing their own chitin shackles and ironwood chains to keep the slaves in line.

Brishen is at her desk when she receives word that the Temple's representatives have arrived. She smiles faintly to herself, then takes a deep breath and stands, walking out to the entrance hall to greet them.

A wolf lieutenant bows to the Eeee. "Good afternoon, Ambassador Kara. We have come for the servants to be taken to the Temple."

Brishen nods. "Good afternoon, sirs. If you'll follow me, I'll take you to where they are being kept." With that she turns and makes her way towards the basement. A lock of hair trails down to tickle her muzzle, but she ignores it, frowning as she has been for the past few days.

The door has no guard at it, but is securely locked. It is a simple matter to open it up, letting out the damp and musty smell of the lowest level of the Embassy. It still smells that way despite the most heroic efforts of the cleaning staff.

The lieutenant sniffs at the air disdainfully.

Brishen looks back at the guard. "The regular slave's quarters are elsewhere in the Embassy. I assure you, the slaves have been well-kept."

"Whatever," says the lieutenant, as he steps into the basement. "Where are they?" One other guard and a zelak come in to flank him, but the rest remain at the top of the stairs.

Brishen's eyes grow wide. "Where are they – ?" She steps down into the basement, relying more on her ears than her eyes in what to her is shades of the darkest gray on black. "What are you talking about?"

The lieutenant makes a hand-motion to the Zelak, which it apparently interprets to be an order to guard the entrance against any sneaky Savanites slipping away. The lieutenant and his guard then proceed to search each of the stone chambers … all of which are devoid of any sign of golden, spotted felines. "Sir!" calls out the lower-ranking guard. "I found something!" He is kneeling over a scrap of parchment lying on the floor, sniffing at it, but not touching it.

Brishen wraps her arms around herself as she looks around at the very empty basement. A faint gasp escapes her lips. "The door was locked… "

Brishen trembles faintly, whispering to herself. "How can I explain this? What will I tell – I – I'll have to hire the fastest courier I can. This is terrible – " The faintest edge of hysteria creeps into her voice.

The lieutenant stoops over the note, murmuring to himself.

"Thanks for the snacks," he slowly says, then adds, "You're next."

The lieutenant shakes his head. "Cute. Real cute. Signed, 'Amaranth'. And with a funny little fox face next to it. Someone's idea of a joke?" He sniffs. "Savanites were in this room, all right."

The underling guard adds in, "Smells like embalming fluids." His eyebrows raise. "You don't think … ?" At a look from the lieutenant, he looks down. "Naw. You don't."

Brishen crumples to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably. "The – the what? The SNACKS?! Wh-what have you DONE?! How could you put us here?! THERE ARE MONSTERS IN THE TOMBS!" She curls up, the edges of her wings held along the floor. Dark trails of tears twine along her muzzle.

The Lieutenant frowns, though his underling seems quite taken aback by the sudden outburst. The Lieutenant barks, "Have the place searched. Send Raye back to inform the Inquisition. And the Audit, of course." He shakes his head. "I hate paperwork."

"Yes sir!" barks the subordinate, and he gingerly steps around Brishen, heading up the steps. His voice can be heard barking upstairs.

"There are – there – there are. They." The young ambassador shudders, curling her wings around herself as she cries quietly.

The Lieutenant, left with a Zelak and a crying bat, looks distinctly uncomfortable. "Now … now calm down, Ambassador. There are no ghosts here, see? No … aw, stop crying, please!"

Brishen looks up at the guard. Her eyes are large and bright and almost black in the dim light, a darkness accentuated by the very real shadows of sleepless nights beneath them. Then, she lowers her head again and her hair tumbles down to hide her face. She sobs muffledly. "She-sh-she – she ATE THEM!"

Brishen at the very least, stops crying after that.

"Well," the guard says, as if he's trying to encourage the ambassador, "don't worry. The Temple will think of some other way you can make reparations." He fakes a smile.

Brishen trembles faintly. A small, quiet wail starts to build in her throat.

The lieutenant's fake smile quickly wavers and fades, and he says, "I … think I should check on the men." He hastily vacates the basement, leaving the zelak behind … then thinks the better of it and says, "Come along!" The bug-thing makes slow, deliberate motions as it follows the lieutenant up the stairs.

Brishen's wail trails off into choked sobs as the guard leaves. Perhaps it is better that the guard could not see beneath her wings, for as the basement grows quiet, the young ambassador smiles. She waits for a while, before, a startling apparition in her own right, she emerges from the basement, giving no one a second glance as she walks to her room and locks the door, where, hidden under the covers, she can laugh until eventually she falls asleep. Curtain.