Thin streams of sunlight creep into the room, like a phantom's hand gingerly searching about, and at last resting upon the head of Willow in her cot in the Ember Inn.

The phantoms of last night have gone now, and the streets are quiet. It would be quiet in here, too, except for Burr's snoring. The mutt joins in as well, making a duet. Testament-Blaze sits in a corner of the room, looking more like he's meditating rather than sleeping.

The Skreek's eyes tighten against the rays of sunlight and she pulls a pinkish piece of wool over her face to blot it out. Still, she's always been quick to wake and now isn't any different. Slowly the Skreek drags herself upright and rubs her eyes, gingerly folding the small baby blanket up and placing it in her lap. "'Morning, Testy," she mumbles quietly.

Testament-Blaze's helmet rises a few degrees, and he nods in greeting. He signs, "Are you well?"

Willow shrugs, "Define 'well'. I don't know who to believe, who might be jerking me around, and what's real and what isn't anymore. And last night I went so wild trying to find answers that I hurt poor Burr."

Testament-Blaze signs, "Our minds were clouded by magic. Burr understands. And I share your concerns. Do you trust Prince Sebazhan?"

The Skreek rubs the top of her hand for a moment before replying, "I don't know. He could be clueless about all of this, he could be lying out his ears. If he had evil intentions he didn't advertise them, and he did get us away from those spooks. I honestly don't know. Maybe I'll find some answers in Castle Naochi if we can sneak into those underground caverns."

Testament-Blaze signs, "Intentions need not be 'evil' for one to hide them. Prince Sebazhan strikes me as the sort of person who puts on a mask – out of habit, if for no other reason. I do not dislike him, but something about him concerns me. Please be careful."

Testament-Blaze, after a long pause, signs, "The driver is out in the stable. He is an early riser."

"I've thought about that. Obviously he's been spying on us to even know about me, and unless the Diamantes blabbed about me then I doubt the methods of finding me were through gossipy servants and such. I'm still quite wary, but for now I don't think he's Tyrne's puppeteer." Willow shrugs and takes a moment to stretch some of the sleep from her limbs.

Burr rolls over, briefly pausing in his snoring … but as soon as he's settled, he resumes sawing logs once more.

Testament-Blaze signs, "On to the castle, then?" He slowly gets up.

The Skreek nods and starts nudging the snoring Savanite with her foot. "Hey… I thought you were supposed to be mute! Fires what a racket!"

Burr snorts, and then rolls over, blinking as he orients himself to his surroundings.

The mutt snorks as well, smacks his lips, and rubs at his agate eyes. "… Ooo la la, Fifi … Errr?" He looks around, though, of course, he doesn't see anything.

"Morning, fuzzybutt," Willow smirks down at the cheetah. "When you're conscious enough to move around, let me look at that wound on your leg. I'm a little worried about infection."

Burr rolls around to a sitting position, rubbing his hands over his face. It doesn't take all that long to remove the bandages, examine the wound, and clean it up. It looks like it wasn't all that bad, really – just a few jabs with the sharper bits of on the staff. Willow caught him, but it wasn't a direct blow.

Burr, at Willow's insistence, washes up, and patiently waits through having his wound rebandaged – properly. Looks like the big cheetah is ready to go.

After cleaning up Burr, helping Copy out of bed, and distributing breakfast around, Willow takes a moment to wash up as well, change into some clean clothes that still have a hint of the violet soap the Diamantes used on them, and then gather up her belongings to meet up with the carriage. "Like it or not, Burr, I'm going to try and get your hair brushed into shape for the Prince, and please behave yourself, Copy. Prince Kiri might decide to lop off your head or something like that."

Some grooming and fussing and a short carriage ride later, Willow and Company are riding toward Castle Naochi, headed up the slope toward the gloomy-looking stone structure. The Kavi chatters on at a mile a minute about this, that and the other, but the winds have picked up so that it's hard to hear more than every other word or fragment thereof from the Kavi. And it probably doesn't matter anyway.

At last, the carriage rolls up toward the dirty gray castle, pulling to a stop at the front gates. The guard boxes are vacant.

The Kavi chitters, "Heyheyheyheythere,heretoseePrinceKiriNaochiLordofallhesurveys!Cansomeoneopenthegateandletthewagonin?"

Willow pauses in her efforts to "clean Burr up" to peer out the window. Her nose wrinkles at the sight of the empty guard box. "Looks like we might have to let ourselves in. Feel like lending a hand with the gate, burr?"

Burr nods, and squeezes out of the carriage.

The Skreek hops out as well, taking a moment to peer inside the guard box.

A chill wind blows leaves across the courtyard visible beyond the gate. The cobblestone roadway leads past a chitin-and-wood gate, and then forms a circular drive, in the center of which is a patch of earth and grass with a fountain in its center. A Skreek maiden is rendered in stone standing in the center, pouring water out of a pitcher … well, dribbling water, really. The guard box is just a simple shelter for a guard to be able to stand under for a token shelter from the elements. Nothing has been left inside.

From a balcony above the courtyard, a Skreek voice shouts out, "Who goes there?" Sounds young and male.

"Willow-the-Wisp of the Merriweather here to see if the Prince is interested in some trading. We've brought fine wines and ales from many lands as well as spices and other wonders from Sinai. May we come in?" she shouts back.

"Spice? Any yorspice?" The voice has a faint wince and a touch of whine to it. Willow's keen eyes can pick out a form on the balcony, leaning through the curtains, holding a hand up to his temple and grimacing frequently.

"Indeed!" the lady Skreek calls back. "Also a few herbal remedies to soothe the after effects of such things of the Prince so desires. I serve as my ship's doctor as well as a trader for her."

The rat up in the balcony shouts, "LET HER IN!" He then groans audibly and retreats behind the curtain.

A ragged-looking Skreek in patchy-looking armor and carrying a polearm rushes up to the gate, fumbling with some oversized keys. He wrestles with a lock … then struggles to pull the gate open.

Burr sees an obvious application for his brawn, though, and pulls the gate open much faster, prompting a surprised squeak from the Skreek guard.

Willow smirks slightly; the first impression is always the most important one. "Thanks. " She nods to the guard before hopping back inside the carriage.

Burr just follows along the carriage, rather than wasting time squeezing back in. In short order, the carriage rolls to a stop at the entrance, and a couple of guards come out of the woodwork to stand at attention at the entrance.

"Show off," Willow signs to the slave before climbing out of the carriage again to greet the guards. "Good morning, gentlemen. Is it all right if we bring our wares inside?"

One of the guards ducks his head. "Yeah … just … " He lowers his voice, rasping, "Speak quietly." He taps his forehead, then pantomimes rubbing his temple and grimacing.

"You heard him. For fire's sake don't drop the chest, Burr. Set it down as gently as you can." She fishes in her pouch and starts digging out the makings of a hangover remedy.

The grizzled-looking rat guard nods. "Me name's Rattlebone. Now if ye'll jest follow me … quiet-like… " He carefully tip-toes into the entrance … his feet conspicuously bare.

Willow nods and takes a moment to remove her own boots before following after the guard.

The entryway of the castle shows some rather nice architecture, really, though the little carved 'grotesques' (representations of squatting figures) supporting sconces and archways might be a touch on the morbid side. Or, as their name suggests, just plain ugly, albeit well-carved.

There are plenty of spots on the wall of discoloration where it looks like something was hanging there for a very very long time, and was removed fairly recently. The interior is nearly spartan as far as furnishings are concerned.

At last, the guard leads Willow into what looks to be the throne room. Something about the layout is a faint echo of King Vrixt's throne room, though the architecture is obviously of later origin – as is the rest of this castle.

Sprawled on the Prince's throne is what must be the Prince, his legs swung up and dangling over on the second throne where his Lady – if he had one – would be seated while holding court. He groans, covering his eyes. The lighting in here is noticeably dim.

The female Skreek shakes her head slightly at all the lost bits of history but holds her tongue. As she enters the throne room, she bows and hastily moves to help Burr with the chest and to get it settled down as lightly as possible.

"All right, all right … what've you got? And what do you want in return? I've got some armor and some weapons in the armory. They've even got metal in them. Once upon a time, that'd be a fortune, eh?" The underaged prince groans again, grabbing at his temples. "And where is Shriela? Where did that – " He uses some impolite terms here. " – get off to?"

Next to the throne stands a gaunt-looking black feline. On the opposite side stands a "normal" Skreek – pudgy and digitigrade, and overly cheery looking. The latter squeaks, "Why, you threw that – " he uses more inappropriate words " – out of the castle, your lordship!"

The Prince grumbles. "Oh yeah … well … get her back, would you? She can massage my toes. It helps my headache."

The pudgy Skreek drops to his knees. "Why, I could massage your toes, your Lordship!"

"Glass of water, bring one here." Willow whispers to one of the guards before turning to face the Prince again. "The armor sounds like a fine trade, Prince Kiri. We're also interested in books if you have any. Airship travel tends to get boring."

The Prince abruptly pulls his feet away. "Get away from my toes! And stop SHOUTING! Rezhinald … give me something to throw, would you?"

Rattlebone ducks his head and pads off to an end-table – ah, a piece of furniture removed! But it appears to be permanently built into the wall. He picks up a pitcher and pours a glass of water, and brings it back to Willow.

Meanwhile, Rezhinald picks a piece of fruit out of a bowl nearby, and hands it to the Prince.

The pudgy Skreek scampers about. "Oh dear! Oh dear! Oh please don't hit me! Oh, it will hurt so! Oh!"

Kiri takes careful aim, squinting as he aims. He flings the fruit. It looks like it's going to miss the pudgy Skreek by a mile…

The pathetic pudgy Skreek looks up, sees the fruit, then dashes right into the path of the descending fruit. It splatters on his head. "Oh! OH! Oh my head has burst! I'm bleeding! I'm dying!" He twirls around in a circle, then falls dramatically down to the floor, kicking his feet up into the air.

Kiri at last returns his attention to Willow. "Ungh. I wish he'd die more quietly. Eh. Yeah … books? Sure. I've got tons of them."

Willow does her best to ignore the goings on as she carefully sprinkles the herbs into the water along with a few powders and a pinch of dried sugarfir leaves to cover the bitter taste. She always thought it amusing that the bark of a tree with her namesake was one of her most often-used herbs for soothing pain. It's a shame willows tend to be such droopy trees. "Wonderful. Um… if you like, this is my best remedy. It should help your head." She holds the glass out.

"A remedy?" The Prince reaches out for the glass, but the butler frowns and intercepts the glass.

The Khatta inspects the glass closely, muttering something under his breath.

The lady Skreek's ears perk at the mutterings, trying to pick them up.

They sound like utter nonsense … but not unlike the muttering of Prince Sebazhan in the graveyard … or the incantations of the Life Mages. It's almost certainly some sort of cantrip.

The Khatta looks back up at Willow, raising one eyebrow and looking her over as if gauging something … and then he hands the glass to Prince Kiri.

Prince Kiri sputters, "Thank you… " He guzzles down the water. "Buh. Tastes awful. You trying to poison me?" He wipes his mouth, and doesn't look like he's terribly concerned about any poison he may have ingested.

The pudgy "dead" Skreek, meanwhile, quietly gets up and scampers out of the room while Kiri isn't looking.

"Medicine never tastes good," Willow answers. "That's how you know it's working. Give it a few minutes and your head should be fine." She steps back to the chest and carefully opens the lid, pausing to study the Khatta butler. "Now, about the trading."

The butler's eyes never leave Willow, except to glance at the contents of the chest.

Copy, meanwhile, quietly sniffs at the air every once in a while, facing this way and that … but there's not anything terribly interesting for him to go investigating, so he stays close to Willow.

"Yeah, well, if it doesn't work… " Prince Kiri chitters, then draws his finger across his throat. "Shhhakt! I don't care for quacks."

( You know who I am, I'll wager. A shame I don't know a flip of magic to be able to know what you just did. ) Willow slowly pulls out a few of the bottles of Gallisian wine along with a large pouch of yorspice. "Here's a sampler for starters." She eyes a bottle of Titanian ale but saves it for later.

Kiri's nose turns up and he sniffs hungrily at the air. "Uhh … uhh … " He tries vainly to regain his composure. "Hmm. Yes. I'm interested. Ah … let's see … you're offering me the whole chest, right?"

"If what you have in return to trade is good, sure." Willow nods. "I'd like to see this armor, and the books."

"Ah … yeah … " Kiri snaps his fingers. "Servants! Bring in … bring in the armor! And the books!"

Rattlebone squeaks, "Uh … my lord, you mean all the books? And all the armor?"

Kiri scowls. "Just … just do something and make me happy! Stop asking me to be specific!"

Rattlebone ducks his head. "Yes, m'lord," and he scuttles out of the room.

Kiri mutters, "Idiots… " under his breath.

"Prince Naochi, it might be less cluttering for your throne room if I could go to the books instead. Maybe you could let me look through your library instead? Less clutter that way." Willow smirks a little as she carefully polishes the label on a bottle of ale. "And I should point out that your headache seems to be troubling you less already."

Kiri blinks, and pats on his head, as if to make sure it's still there. "Yeah … yeah, you're right. That's pretty good! Uh … yeah … sure, sure, if you want to look at some stupid books. I don't have a problem with that."

The gray Skreek bows, "I'm most grateful. That also reminds me: I'd heard there were ruins under the castle; is this true?"

Kiri grins like a braggart, and looks as if he's about to say something, but Rezhinald – already having a look of mild annoyance in his expression – puts his hand calmly and firmly on Kiri's shoulder. "There are all manners of unsubstantiated rumors," says the butler in a refined, cultured accent, "concerning this old castle. But I assure you that they are not worth the trouble."

"A shame," Willow shakes her head. "I've seen all sorts of ancient ruins all over Sinai in my travels and I've taken a liking to exploring them. I'd be willing to let you have a good chunk of my stock for free at a chance to do a bit of exploring." She doesn't look at the butler, but feels his eyes on her.

Kiri looks hungry at the mention of the word "free", but Rezhinald whispers loudly in Kiri's ear, "We can't be responsible for any harm that might befall those who go prodding around long-forgotten parts of old castles."

Kiri says, "Uh … yeah. We can't be responsible for any harm that … well … you know."

Three rat guards come into the room, bearing pieces of armor. It would seem that Kiri must have dismissed all of his more mundane servants, and pressed his guards into all-purpose duty.

The armor is laid out on the floor – not plate, not metal, but curious outfits of chitin links – chitin chainmail, as it were – that must have required quite a bit of work to fashion. The armor is old, as hinted by scratches and scrapes here and there, but it still has a somewhat aesthetic quality to the pieces.

Given that the pieces have been pretty much just dropped in more or less of a heap, however, it's hard to determine just how many complete suits might be represented – if there's anything complete at all – though it can be discerned that the wearers are intended to be of Krozite Skreek physiology or closely approximating it.

That could, of course, limit the potential market for such items.

The lady Skreek starts thinking as quickly as she can, and a dangerous idea comes to mind. Still, Kiri seems to be the type that might be ruled by his pride. She swings a pouch of yorspice in her hand like a hypnotist's pendulum, "I was not aware that your butler was the one who made the decisions around here. Obviously if HE thinks I shouldn't go then I shouldn't. But I don't see the big deal. If I get into trouble then it's my own scruddy fault, right?"

Rezhinald glares swords at Willow, while even Burr can probably figure out that Kiri is being heavily swayed by the pouch of yorspice being dangled so enticingly before him. "Uh … yeah … What's the big deal? I haven't got a problem with it. Sure!"

Rezhinald stands back, his posture dropping to a cool simmer. "As you wish, my lord."

"Wonderful," Willow smirks. "I'll leave Burr here to unload things. If you could have someone show me to the library, I'll try to get started and we'll get out of your fur as soon as we can."

The mutt, Copy, whurfs to Willow, "What about me and the other quiet guy? I don't think I'd be able to help you check out books."

Kiri waves his hand dismissively. When no guards appear to be able to interpret the meaning of his command, he chitters, "Show her to the library."

Rattlebone bows, and turns to Willow. "Right this way."

The gray Skreek walks over to Copy and pats his shoulder, "Help Burr unload things," she pretends to be fiddling with the mutt's clothing as she whispers quietly in Gallisian, "And listen for anything interesting, especially from the butler." She pats the mutt's shoulder and motions to Testament-Blaze. "You come with me; you can read."

Under the blistering gaze of Rezhinald, Willow and Testament-Blaze are led out of the room by the creaky rat, Rattlebone, and taken through what seems almost like a maze of little twisty passages, all alike, down some stairs, and at last into a stone chamber that looks to serve as a library … though the lower levels of a castle surely wouldn't be the best place to keep old books.

Many of the shelves are empty, with enough disturbances to suggest that someone other than Willow must have expressed an interest in books in recent history … but given how they seem to be removed by sections, rather than a selective removal of particular titles, hopefully that doesn't mean that all the "good" books have been grabbed already.

An unimpressive wooden desk sits over to one side, but there's no chair to go with it – Instead, an inverted wooden bucket that has been pressed into service.

Rattlebone uses his torch to light a couple of wooden stubs set into sconces on the walls, giving the room fairly decent, if flickering, lighting, in the absence of windows.

"Not much time," the Skreek signs to the cheetah. "Look for anything about ancient history, journals, or information on Dack or Naochi families. You know what I've discovered on my own to know what to skim over." She flashes the guard a smile and starts peering through the shelves. "Thank you for the escort, Rattlebone."

Rattlebone nods, and shivers at the chill in the room. "I'll … be back in a while." He hops from foot to foot – Since he's still barefoot, and the cold stone floor is bereft of carpeting, small wonder he's uncomfortable. He scampers out of the chamber, leaving it slightly less bright with the exit of one torch.

Testament-Blaze immediately sets to the task of examining books on the shelves.

Willow sniffs lightly at the air as she starts walking down past one of the shelves. "I wonder if we're underground?"

Testament-Blaze nods. He signs, "Since we entered the castle at ground level, and then descended stairs, that is most likely."

"I wonder how deep it goes?" Willow shakes her head. "Never mind; we'll find out soon enough. Just keep looking." Her finger starts to trace along the spines of books as she looks for anything that might be helpful.

A few titles catch Willow's eye, for curious spine patterns if nothing else. "Stonework of the Ancient Moltpaa Empire: A New Aspect to the Sphere of Earth." "Transformation of the Body in the Sphere of Life." "Shikouju and the Seven Swordsmaidens." "Pantheons of the Civilized World." "Field Sketches of Spoor of Native Krozite Wildlife."

Although it doesn't seem to directly relate to her current situation, the Skreek can't resist the book on transformation, having experienced it herself firsthand. She pulls it down, plops herself down in the aisle and starts flipping through the pages.

Testament-Blaze signs, "I have found a few curious titles: 'Worshipping Dagh: A Liberation of the Self.' 'Overcoming Impotence.' 'Inspiring Loyalty in Subjects by Creative Violent Acts.' 'Finding the Inner Self Through Blood Sacrifices and Meditation.'" He flicks his ears in alarm at some of the titles.

There are numerous diagrams throughout the book, and though it appears to be hand-written, that still doesn't mean that it isn't mass-produced, given the creative if mundane applications of magic that wizards are prone to think up to make their everyday lives 'easier'.

Willow pats the spot next to her, "The first and the last one, put them here." She drops to handsign. "Keep looking. Anything with 'Dagh' in it might be useful."

One section describes 'Limitations of Life Magic in Physical Restructuring'. Another describes, 'Transformation for the Illusion of Youth'. Another: 'Modifications in the Code of Life'.

Testament-Blaze stacks up the "Worshipping Dagh" and the "Blood Sacrifices and Meditation" books on the desk.

( I think I know about limitations… hmmm. I wonder how young you can make yourself look? Like… a baby perhaps? ) She flips through that section and starts reading.

The section on the Illusion of Youth seems to be devoted toward such things as removing excess body fat, stretching skin to remove folds, making eyes look shiny, tucking flappy sections under the chin, curing graying or whitening of fur, making teeth nice and white again, and that sort of thing.

It doesn't appear to have anything to do with such drastic measures as shrinking one down to become childlike.

Willow sticks out her tongue and flips to the back of the book, scanning through the text as quickly as she can.

A random sampling: "… fallacy that Life Mages can achieve immortality by use of normal magic… " "… the following diagrams show the incisions that must be made under the chin, where the enchanted lance will burn away the fat and cause the skin to contract and tighten… " "… only in the earliest stages of development of the embryo can changes of this magnitude be made, and even then, only with great advance preparation and magical study of the parents… " "… potential to regenerate lost body parts, but only at great effort and expense, and with inevitable side effects… " "… Changes of this magnitude in a living body require the breakdown of natural defenses against magical effects, thus having the side effect of making the subject especially vulnerable to magical effects in the future… " "… conclusively supports the contention that true changing between genders, with functioning characteristics of the new gender, is beyond the scope of Life Magic as we know it … "

The Skreek backs up a bit. ( Changes of what magnitude in an embryo? )

Backing up, it appears that the text describes various experimental and "controversial" rituals – though it doesn't give instructions – devoted toward shaping the appearance and certain other characteristics of the developing unborn child. For instance, giving the child a greater tendency to be more intellectual, to be more athletic, to be taller, shorter, and so forth. There's even mention of a controversial ritual used to ensure that the child will be born a boy or girl, though it requires preparations even before conception.

Willow closes the book and shakes her head, setting it aside for deeper reading later. Next she takes up the book about Dagh worshipping and the first thing she looks at is the author's name.

The author of this particular book is one Professor Damon Darga.

( Not Absalom, although that name could make this person a distant relative of Dagh as well. ) She creaks open the cover and starts to look through her choices.

There are various sections with such interesting titles such as, "The Myth of Good and Evil," "The Ends DO Justify the Means," "Celebration of the Self," "The Idiot Masses," and other such uplifting messages.

From a quick look-through, it doesn't seem to mention a thing about prancing around naked under the Procession, smeared in the blood of infants, or any such thing. "Dagh" gets an awfully generous presentation here.

Hissing angrily, Willow closes the book and pushes aside. Even if there is anything useful in there, she doesn't want to sludge through such garbage for too long. She grabs the book on blood sacrifices and starts to flip around to anything mentioned about the power gained from the blood of newborn babies.

Yes, while the beginning of the book might slowly bring the reader through a maze of arguments of moral relativism and the nature of life and death, eventually, in the later chapters, it looks like the author is hinting at – but not directly advocating, of course not – the potency of sacrifice of sapient beings as a part of powerful magical rituals … and the special potency of the sacrifice of infants.

( Okay. Now why? What in fires name could there be to gain from it that's worth killing a daughter? Not that Tachiri would care one way or another, but he must have balked for a moment. If he did gain anything, I sure don't see it considering the condition of his house right now.) Her finger continues flipping through the tome.

On the surface, it appears that the main consideration is the providing of "extra power" for rituals of "great magnitude", and that the sacrificing of a "potent life force" can "weaken the barrier between the planes of reality".

The Skreek closes the book and pulls herself up. ( Is that why you're interested in things that are 'alive'? Bah. ) She brushes herself off and checks on the progress of the priest.

The priest has stacked up several books … and repeatedly pauses to make signed prayers. He's signing very quickly, but it looks like he's doing something like commanding some unseen persons to leave the room.

"Is something wrong?" Willow asks, glancing at the stack of books and their titles.

The books have repeated occurrences of such words as "Dagh", "Ancient Power", "Mysteries of the Ancients", "Spirit World", "Magic", and "Rituals".

The priest pauses long enough to sign to Willow, "It is hard enough for me to accept the presence of 'magic' in this world … but these books describe nothing less than witchcraft."

"These books belong to someone who murdered his children, what do you expect?" She sighs and pulls one of the books from the top of the stack, "If it's too much for you, look around for a journal that might have belonged to Tachiri or Ria, or something about Naochi history."

Testament-Blaze nods. "I have been keeping an eye out for those names, but have not seen any such thing so far. Perhaps such things would not be kept in the castle library."

The book Willow picks up is labeled "Attaining Godhood", and covered with all sorts of mystical runes and abstract images of faces that might represent various deities.

A bit of flipping through it reveals what is probably the most eye-catching fact first-off … that it's written by one Abzhalom Dack. After that, it appears to be a quasi-history of various mages of legend who used powerful rituals to try to attain immortality and god-like status.

( Ahhh… now this is something. ) She starts reading through the pages towards the end of the book, hoping to find something that might explain all of this business about Dagh coming back.

Actually, there's not anything about Dagh toward the end of the book … but flipping back toward the beginning reveals a mention of Dagh.

The Skreek's ears flatten as she reads.

In a sampling or paraphrase, it goes something like, "Long ago, back in the earliest times, long before the Temple or the Nagai Empire, the first great Empire on Sinai was the glorious feline empire of Olympia. The Olympians were the first to bring logic and reason out of the dark ages of Sinai pre-history, and they were also the first to explore the mysteries of magic – the first great pioneer in the magical arts being the legendary Tyrne Dagh."

It goes on to describe, "… tapping into the flows of energy that course through Sinai like vessels carrying life-giving blood, the earliest sorcerers were able to divine the true nature of the workings of our world, and to discover alternate planes of existence that are not physical, but rather magical."

And, a bit later, "… While Olympian mythology holds their gods and goddesses to be eternal, they can each be traced to a different mage of great renown who crossed the barrier into the eternal, magical realm, and attained supremacy over the seen and unseen realms – in all truth, becoming gods and goddesses."

Willow rubs her nose, looking for some explanation as to how someone could cross this supposed barrier.

Toward the end of this section, there is mention of, "… a cyclic pattern in Sinai's history, suggesting that, long ago, before the races of today, previous civilizations suffered the experiences of mortals, but came to realize their innate divinity, and ascended to the next plane of existence. Their essences are still with us to this day, guiding us from behind the scenes, leading us toward realization of our true nature – either as superior beings, or as the unworthy who only exist to serve the whims of the gods."

Another mention of this 'cyclic pattern' is found in, "… a time shall come, repeating this cycle, when Sinai's natural processes will stabilize, then optimize, and then reach a peak of magical potential. There shall come a great time when wishes shall become reality. Those with weak wills shall be dissolved by their own idiocy, while those who are strong, who are truly alive, shall ascend to godhood, and the gods and goddesses of ages past shall walk the physical plane again, along with the mortals of our own age."

Alas, there seems to be nothing specifically saying how one could cross this "barrier", other than allusions to special rituals of "great power", performed in select locations at "power nodes of harmonic convergence" and other magic-babble jargon.

If anything, the only inference that might be made from this … and perhaps an erroneous one … is that it is possible to bodily pass into this other "realm", but only at certain locations. But then, considering that these other realms are not "physical", that might contradict this notion.

Willow shakes her head and puts the book aside. She stands up and stretches herself out, "Hey Testy… how long have we been down here?"

Testament-Blaze pauses, then signs, "It is hard to say. Perhaps half of an hour? No less, I am certain."

"Well, I'm finding quite a bit on Dagh, that's for sure. Any luck on Naochi history?" She puts the book in her 'keep' pile and picks up the next one in the stack that the priest had earlier assembled.

Testament-Blaze nods, and points to a very small pile over to the side, with, oh, three books in it – but they're fairly thick. One of them is labeled, "The Naochi Dynasty," and looks like it could be used as a blunt instrument to clobber someone to death with. The other reads, "Campaigns Against Bosch," and the last reads, "Heraldry of Kroz," being the smallest of the three.

Testament-Blaze signs, "Have you found anything interesting?"

"Frick," the Skreek winces as she eyes the largest of the books. "I found a book written by Absalom but that was about it. Keep searching. She shuffles over to the new pile and hauls the largest book from it. The first thing she does is look for any kind of date written on it. If it's before Tachiri's time it might not have much information, although if it's an old enough book it might also have information on the extremely early Naochi family.

It requires a feat of strength to move the book, and it's a wonder that Testament-Blaze was able to get it to this shelf. Fortunately, Willow doesn't drop it on her toe or anything like that. This thing is big, and the cover is thick, with a well-corroded brass or bronze spine. It has a clasp to hold it shut, though it's not locked.

( The metal alone makes this valuable. But Burr can be the one to carry it. ) After lugging the thing to the desk she hefts the two smaller books over as well and starts fiddling with the larger tome's clasp.

The mechanism shows signs of long-time neglect … but it at last pops open. It's definitely a one-of-a-kind book, hand-written on zolkrag "parchment" – definitely designed to last.

The cover page has some stylized designs around the repeat of the title, and in each corner is a different emblem. Three of them, Willow can recognize from the symbols for the three Kingdoms of Moltpaa. The fourth is one that looks vaguely familiar … as if she saw it not long ago. In fact, it appeared on that book titled "Stonework of the Ancient Moltpaa Empire".

It looks vaguely like two "X" symbols wedged against each other … or, perhaps more accurately, a "V" shape intertwined with an inverted "V".

Curiously, Willow hops from her chair and picks up the stonework book, dragging it to the desk as well. she puts it down on top of the open pages of the larger tome and trying to find out what that particular symbol stands for. ( I recognize Naochi, Vrixt, and Stalto… but not this one. It looks a little like a variation of Vrixt. )

The two symbols are a match. Alas, neither instance – the cover of the "Stonework" book, or the inset of the "Dynasty" book – provides an explanation for the symbols.

As Willow cracks open the "Stonework" book, though, it quickly becomes evident that this is not merely a book about architecture. In the initial blurb, 'Stonework' is defined as the term used to describe the strange sort of "Earth Magic" employed by the ancient Moltpaa empire, using methods long since lost to history, with the collapse of that ancient underground civilization.

It consists of a blend of mechanical and magical "technology", in order to create moderately complex mechanisms built entirely from stone. Due to the interplay of magic and mechanical workings, there are obscure limits to what can be done in this manner, and these contraptions are all stationary – Removing the components from their initial location causes them to lose their initial properties. Somehow, these magical mechanisms – at least at the time of the writing of this book – are believed to still hold some of the magic instilled in them during their creation.

There is quite a bit of jargon employed in this book, and it is evidently written by an Earth Mage, so it might take a great deal of research – and possibly the consultation of a mage capable of speaking in lay terms – to get anything worthwhile out of this book. Still, it has a wealth of diagrams and details about "stonework" mechanisms discovered – some functional, some not – in Moltpaa ruins.

( Hmm… wonder how Tachiri got hold of this one. Hmm, there might be something in here about the booby traps in the basement of this place! ) The Skreek scans on, continuing to look for a repetition of the symbol.

Yes, there are repetitions of this symbol, as well as countless others. In a cursory scan, Willow finds that there are some catalogs of encountered symbols and theories about how they may hint at the function of a stonework item. The symbol on the cover is a repeated rune, and is theorized to either be a rune representing the Moltpaa Empire itself … or it may be a special "hallmark" rune that is part of the "language" of stonework … or perhaps both. In any case, it frequently appears on "stonework" contraptions.

And, it appears that this "stonework" is exclusive to the underground ruins beneath Kroz.

( Looks like this one's a keeper as well. Leastwise I can explain my interest in ruins now, and the book can provide a bit of fluff so it won't look like my interest is strictly in Naochi and Dack. ) She closes the boo, sets it aside and starts to leaf through the more massive tome. ( I wonder if the wizard Kroz is mentioned anywhere in here? )

If there's any mention of Kroz, Willow doesn't find it before footsteps are heard in the hallway outside the library. Testament-Blaze waves his hands, signing the obvious, "Someone is coming."

Willow closes the book and stands up, her hand instinctively dropping to her knife-pouch as she greets the new arrival.

Prince Kiri swaggers into the library, looking like he's helped himself to some spirits. He isn't carrying a container with him, though, and the smell isn't distinctive enough to tell if it's from what Willow brought, or his own stash. It doesn't smell like Poison Canyon Beer, at least. "Ah! You found the books!"

Testament-Blaze presses his hands together, bowing to the young ruler.

The gray Skreek relaxes a bit, "Indeed, I was just about to look through something about your family history, actually. The title 'Naochi Dynasty' sounds like something exciting to read while a person's bored out of their skull on an airship." She quietly studies the prince's features, comparing them to her own face… or at least her old face.

Yes, it could be imagined that there are some similarities in structure, except that Prince Kiri is many years Willow's younger, and he happens to be male rather than female. But then, considering her own ability to pass for male with certain Skreeks and more so with other species, it is not unthinkable that, with a bit of fixing up, one of them could conceivably pass for an older or younger version of the other.

That will probably change, though, once Prince Kiri gets past eighteen. He nods. "Yeah. BORRRRR-ing. But look!" He points at the spine. "Real metal! That ought to fetch a bunch, huh?" He looks eagerly at Willow.

"Well, with the iron glut and all these days it's hard to tell," she tries to sound a little less eager, not wanting to risk the Prince trying to cut an unfair deal. "Depends on where we go I suppose." She clears her throat and seats herself again, "Have you ever been outside of Kroz before? Vacations and suchlike?"

Kiri shrugs. "Been to a Katthahouse in Olympia." He leans against a wall and tries to look cocky and wise to the world.

"But, you see, I can't get off too far. Got my kingdom to run and all that," he says, putting a sigh into his voice.

( Great, he thinks he can impress me. ) Willow coughs lightly, "Where's your butler? I thought he's be with you? He doesn't seem too fond of me, I've noticed."

"Aw, I shook him. He thinks I'm in the washroom. He's such an old wind." Prince Kiri rolls his eyes. "He seems to be afraid I'm going to sell off the castle or something like that!"

"What was that mumbling he was making over that hangover cure I have you? He some kind of magician?" willow asks.

Prince Kiri shrugs. "Oh, yeah. Some sort of hocus-pocus stuff. He does that all the time. Creepy, huh?"

"I see." Willow sniffs at the air again, "What type of mage is he? He seems to be concerned about your general welfare, but I get a bit nervous when people mumble around me."

Kiri shrugs. "How should I know? He sees things, knows things, all that sort of thing. Has visions." He widens his eyes and says the last part with a semi-mocking "Ooooo" tone to his voice.

A silhouette of a gaunt Khatta appears in the hallway, behind Kiri. Kiri pays no notice. "He is so uptight… "

Willow grins up to the silhouette, her eyebrows wiggle to acknowledge him before her gaze flicks back down to the prince, "So why do you keep him around?"

Kiri shrugs. "Uh … I dunno. I mean … he's a butler. Got to have a butler, right? He's a pretty good cook, too. And he picks up after me."

Kiri grins. "Oh yeah, and see this sleeve? I threw up all over it the other night … but you can't see a stain here anymore, can you, huh? He's pretty good at that sort of stuff."

The silhouette disappears back down the hallway, and Willow's keen ears pick up his slowly retreating footsteps.

"Maybe he could help me pick out the rest of my books," the female Skreek says, picking at a tooth with a blunted claw. "When he… " her eyes catch the shape leaving and she purses her lips. "Never mind. Ahem, so… when can I go exploring underneath the castle?"

"Oh! Yeah … " Kiri fumbles through his rumpled yet vaguely princely robes, and pulls out a heavy set of keys. "Sure. I could open it up for you. But it's really big down there. You could be down there for … like … days. Weeks? Maybe years! And I think there are monsters, too."

"There's not a map or anything like that?" Willow tilts her head sideways.

Kiri says, "A map? Uh … naw, I don't think so. Except … " He scratches his head. "No, I don't know of any."

"Except?" The gray Skreek leans her chin in her cupped hand, "Tell you what, I know it tastes terrible but if you can give me anything resembling a map I'll mix up a big batch of that hangover cure I made for you earlier. I believe in a fair trade after all."

Kiri looks like he's torn. "Welllll … you see … I've got this map, kind of, hanging in my room. And I've got my room all decorated just the way I like it."

"A map? I'd expect a fine prince like you to have an image of a lovely lady hanging in his room, or a painting of himself at the very least." Willow taps her nose, "I'll try to bring it back, consider it just a loan. Who knows, I might find something even more impressive in… oh wait!" She snaps her fingers, "Hey Testy… c'mere."

Testament-Blaze pads over, and bows to Willow.

"Testy here's a pretty good artist. He could always make a copy of it. It won't even have to come off of your wall." Willow grins.

Kiri nods. "Hey, that sounds like a good idea. Sure! He can draw a picture, and I get the headache remedy, right?"

"Righty-o!" She stands up and makes a mock salute, figuring that buttering the Prince up might be the best path of action right now. "Could you loan me the use of your butler while I make it up? You'd be getting him out of your hair for a bit and he can be secure in knowing that I'm not trying anything silly."

"Sure, yeah, no problem," shrugs Kiri. "Easy enough. Here, I'll show you the way… " He immediately walks out of the library.

Willow waves to the cheetah and hops from her seat, following after the Prince. ( At least Savanites are fast. )

More meandering through a little twisty maze of passages, all alike, and climbing several flights of stairs later, they finally arrive in Prince Kiri's bedroom, high atop a tower. At least he ought to be getting some exercise from climbing the stairs. It would have an impressive view of the countryside, if Kiri didn't have some sheets blocking out most of the light through the window. Kiri brings light to the room by roughly yanking them down. His "decorated" room is a disaster area.

There are a few weapons here and there, some which look like mundane weapons from the area, some which look like cheap replicas of exotic weapons from lands distant. The floor is clear, and there are no dirty clothes laying about.

However, it would seem that Kiri's insistence on cluttering his room with so many knick-knacks and symbols of machismo makes it impossible for anyone to keep it truly orderly.

Kiri bounces on his bed, and points lazily up at the wall that bears the map – which sports a few stains here and there. It shows what looks like an outline of Kroz, but with all sorts of lines crisscrossing it. In fact, it looks like a dead-on replica of the map that was on the back of the doors in King Vrixt's throne room.

"I've brought along a bolt of Abu Dhabian cloth with me. It might keep the light out better and impress the ladies if that's your fancy." Willow comments idly as she looks through the room's contents. She carefully tries to spot any paintings in the room.

In addition to the map, there is a painting of Kiri … done with flattering proportions, perhaps, but evidently done by some hack artist.

Kiri says, "Abu Dhabian? Eh, yeah, maybe. Sounds pansy, though."

The lady Skreek looks for a place to settle down, "Very nice room you have here. I'm impressed at how high and how deep your castle runs. She starts digging through her satchel, "I'll need to get a few herbs from the supplies I brought with me, although I should be finished by the time Testy's done copying the map. Where might your butler be?" She smirks slightly, "Don't think 'pansy'; think 'elegant'. But I'll let you decide, I got some nice work shirts there made out of a cheaper version of the cloth and they've been tougher than any cloth I've gotten in Rephidim or Himar, all my other clothes haven't even survived except the ones I have made out of the zolk there." She shrugs, "But I'll leave the inspection up to you. don't want you buying anything you don't want after all."

Kiri, for some reason, gets a wild look in his eyes. "Listen … I don't like pansy. And if pansy is elegant, then I don't like elegant, either! I'm not some wimpy prissy mind-your-manners kiss-your-pinky-finger prance-around-in-tights girlie prince, okay? I'm not, GOT IT?"

"Whoa there!" Willow throws her hands up, "I was just talking about drapes here. I've been in Gallis long enough to see the prissy types, and by no scruddy means are you one of those … and for that I'm blasted grateful. It's only cloth." She shakes her head.

Kiri, still rampaging, says, "And I don't wear DRAPES, either! That toga stuff is okay for Olympians, but … but … " He calms down a bit, and shakes his hand at Willow. "Got it?" his voice cracks.

Testament-Blaze, to his credit, has already started sketching part of the map – it looks like he's doing it in sections rather than trying to put all the detail of the wall map onto the size of a single page.

"Fine, I've scruddy got it." Willow's brow creases as she leans against the dresser. "Look, I'm just an airship scab, but I don't recall any point in this conversation where sounded like I was accusing you of being a fluff. If you haven't noticed, I don't take any great pains to be prissy either, and it's never been my intention to make anyone else that way either. I just mentioned that I have some cloth in my stock. You don't want it, then that's dandy. End of spiel."

Kiri looks like he's trying to catch his breath, and his body is visibly shaking. "Sure," he says. "Of course." He heads over to the window and looks out, taking several deep breaths.

Testament-Blaze casts a glance – or, rather, turns his helmet slightly in that direction – back at Kiri, but then resumes his sketching of the area of the map covering the vicinity of Naochi Castle.

( I think I see. You were supposed to be a girl, but they changed you before you were born. That could have even been what killed Ria. ) She dusts herself off. "I'll leave you alone. Don't mind Testy; he doesn't make a peep. Meanwhile I'll try and find your butler and get to work on that batch of hangover remedy."

"Sure … sounds good… " mutters Kiri, as he hunches over the windowsill.

"I'll be back." Willow squeaks and exits the room, slowly descending the long staircase back to where she came from.

Willow doesn't have to go far, when her way is blocked by the tall and gaunt black Khatta, Rezhinald. "Yes?" he asks, looking down his nose at the rat. "Are you needing any assistance?"

"Yes, Prince Kiri has asked you to help me make up some more of that hangover remedy I made for him earlier. I just need someone to crush herbs for me while I make the packets. Since you seemed to be a bit worried that I might be trying to poison the Prince I figured that you'd want to lend me a hand with this anyway." She shrugs. "I just need to gather some supplies together and then we can get started. The sooner I finish, the sooner I won't be pestering you anymore."

The butler's mouth widens into a flat, feline version of a "smile". "Certainly. Please … follow me this way."

"Gladly. I hope you don't mind small talk while we work, I like to know a few things about my customers. It helps me determine their needs and if I can get a fair deal out of them or if they might be trying to cheat me." The Skreek shuffles after the butler. "Might even help you find out more about me as well."

"Of course," says the butler, in his same, even tone. He takes Willow through yet another maze of passages, suggesting that the architect was a madman, and, of course, down several flights of stairs. At last, they are nearly down to ground level – though what "floor" can't be said, as the castle seems to be build without an organized division into floors, but rather, an irregular clutter of changing elevations, perhaps dictated in some way by the mountain slope the castle is built on, and hints that numerous additions were constructed and added on to the original structure (whatever it was) over time.

A stone archway leads into the kitchen, one wall of which has an array of windows that reveal a greenhouse adjoining it. The roof is angular, slanting back the way Willow and Rezhinald came, and part of the roof is made up of paneled windows, letting in a fair amount of light from outside without need for artificial lights inside – since there's still some daylight outside. However, given that it's well past noon, it emphasizes that Willow must have spent quite some time down there in the library doing what research she had time for.

The kitchen is fairly wide, the tables large enough to not only serve for preparation of large meals, but to serve a large staff out of sight of the royal family and its guests. There is a large bread oven, multiple stoves, and a great deal of iron and other metals used in the construction of the kitchen.

The floor is made up of marbled white tiles, and aside from natural wood surfaces and dark metal, it is predominantly white. A few hanging plants in the corners – as well as the few of the greenhouse adjoining – give a touch of color to the room. Although it is kept clean, it is quite evident that the full capacity of this kitchen is no longer utilized, given the small size of the actual staff serving the Prince Naochi.

The Skreek carefully sets down a few packets of herbs and powders on an empty tabletop and parks herself there. "I always keep some spare bottles, but if you have some it would make things easier for me. Preserves containers would do best as this stuff can go bad if not used fast enough. I'll also need a mortar and pestle if you have one to spare. Just need to grind some dried leaves down." She sniffs at the air again, taking in the scents of the kitchen.

A mortar and pestle and several other implements appropriate to the task are set down on the table. In fact, they may have been set down there before she finished her little speech.

The kitchen smells of cleaning fluids doubtless imported from Rephidim, and of herbs and spices and baked goods. It's an odd mix of rich, heady, kitchen smells … and sterile cleanliness.

"You are good." Willow smirks, taking a package of dried bark and starting to work them into a powder. "Do you have any sugarfir leaves? I'm running a bit low."

The butler silently nods, and efficiently goes straight to a cabinet, opening it to reveal not only sugarfir leaves, but an assortment of other sweeteners, more and less exotic. He brings back a container of the pinkish leaves and sets it on the table.

"Good, now start crumbling them." She points to another chair at the table. "Mind if I ask you a few things? Nothing so grand as bribes or ways to swindle your master, I assure you."

The butler methodically grinds sugarfir leaves into pinkish powder. "There is no harm in the asking, Madame."

"I don't claim to know anything about magic except that it does all sorts of odd things, but I couldn't help but notice you doing a cantrip or something to that effect earlier. Are you a life mage or anything like that?" Willow takes a pinch of the brownish/grey dust she's managed to concoct in the bowl and daubs it on her tongue. She makes a face and starts sprinkling a few bluish leaves into the bowl along with it.

Rezhinald makes a disdainful sniff. "Yes, a cantrip, Madame, is indeed what I was 'doing' earlier, but it had nothing to do with the Sphere of Life. I have some slight familiarity with the Sphere of Light, or, that is, divination. I was merely taking a precaution to make sure that you weren't going to poison Prince Naochi, whether intentionally or out of incompetence."

"Bleh, always hated the taste of willow bark. You have to kill it with other things to be able to hold it down." She nods and continues her mixing, "Understandable, I'd have probably done the same I suppose. I don't suppose that as a Scryer you've had any particular visions about me, have you?"

The butler looks back at Willow. "You don't suppose. Really?"

Rezhinald pours powdered sugarfir into a sieve, sifting out the base nodules and unpowdered bits, then slides the container over to Willow.

"Well well well… beneath that dull little exterior there is some soul to you, I have to respect a man who'll fetch rotten fruits for his master to bean at folks and still retain a certain edge of sarcasm." Willow starts stirring again. "That's fine with me, as I hate all of this beating around the bush fluff anyways. During my time here in Kroz, I've come across all sorts of stories and rumors and legends. Most of them are unpleasant, and most of them don't speak very well of Prince Tachiri Naochi. I suppose that as a prince he had the right to rule his kingdom however he felt fit and could do whatever he wanted to, but it surprises me how you've apparently been so passive throughout it all."

"Passive? Madame, you seem to misunderstand my line of work. I am not a mere cook, launderer, and 'go for'. I am a guardian for this family, and it is a serious business indeed," ventures the black cat. "It is not mine to be 'passive'. It is mine to be loyal. I serve in the interests of House Naochi in the role that has been entrusted to me."

Willow's gaze shoots up and her voice lowers, "That includes not doing anything while Tachiri brutalized his wife, while three daughters died, and now the castle and lands fall into ruin?"

The butler looks across at Willow. "No. It most certainly does not."

"Are you denying those things or are you denying that you were passive while they occurred?" Willow pauses to rub her hands before they start to cramp up. "I'm not out for blood, and I'm keeping Kiri out of this because he's probably just as much of a victim as Ria and her daughters were if the stories I heard are correct. But I also want to know what your part in this was. All I want are answers, nothing more."

The butler raises his chin by a couple of degrees. "Serving a family is no easy business, when it is turned upon itself. But my ultimate loyalty is to the Prince. That is how it has always been, and that is how it must always be. Yes, Prince Tachiri Naochi was cruel to his wife … but she knew he was cruel even before she married him. I did my best to tend to her wounds and to serve her to the best of my ability. But it was not my place to interfere. The same is true with the four daughters, and I do not pretend that their deaths were not tragic." He lowers his gaze. "But a fifth daughter – which Tachiri knew nothing of – lived, and the sixth born to this family – a son – lived."

"I know. Chiria was smuggled to Himar and a changeling was put in her place. I scruddy well know." Willow folds her arms. "Kiri almost had a fit when I offered him some cloth, screaming and raving about how he didn't want to be accused of being a 'pansy'. I'm guessing that magic was involved in Kiri's birth and was the only reason why he was born a boy at all. I'd also guess that the magic could have been what eventually killed Ria."

"There was no changeling," contradicts the Khatta. "There were twins. Mage Abzhalom was not a mid-wife. He did not learn of the missing daughter until after the fact. And as for the origin of Kiri … your presumption is, to the best of my knowledge, correct. But it was not the magic that killed Ria. It was Tachiri."

Willow sits bolt upright. "T-twins? There were two of them then? Bah, Absalom must have fibbed to cover his tail. The story I'd been told was that he'd made a deal with Ria to have the child taken away."

The butler folds his hands together, resting his elbows on the table. "Abzhalom prided himself on perfection. Nothing ever surprised him. No, of course not. It was all part of some more grand plan that he only chose to reveal finally after events had seemed to go awry. I do not know Abzhalom's motivations exactly, but I would not put it past him to … embellish upon the story."

"The truth," says the butler, and then he pauses, almost sneering, "if you even choose to believe me … is that Tachiri was incapable of producing a son. Four daughters were not the only victims to his desire to have a male heir … they were simply the only ones born to his wife, that anyone bothered to give a name before burying."

"Abzhalom played his obedient role, a Life Mage serving as executioner … sacrificing each child on that accursed altar that is beneath this castle, in the ruins of Moltpaa," the Khatta adds with a distasteful frown. "It was his desire – bragged to me as a fellow 'sorcerer' – to awaken Dagh himself with offerings of blood."

The Skreek says nothing for a long moment, simply drumming her fingers on the top of the table instead. After a long moment the finally looks back up. "The twin that survived. That wasn't Chiria then? Was the girl ever named?"

The butler shakes his head. "For all intents and purposes, both of the twins are Chiria Naochi. Chiria Naochi died. Chiria Naochi lived. What was the point in assigning different names, to one doomed to die shortly after taking her first breath, and to one to take her place among the living?"

Willow tugs at a strand of black hair dangling in her face. "What arrangements were made for the surviving twin? Did you have any hand in that?"

"Only the hand," replies the Khatta, "that carried a basket to a maid, who in turn fled the castle for Himar. By the time Tachiri was no more, however, attempts to contact the maid – and retrieve the child – were futile. So Kiri became Prince … and for his sake, I have no intention of seeing that position challenged. It is far, far too late."

"You're a Scryer, couldn't you locate her?" Willow starts to feel her anger boiling up again. ( He could have found me. He could have brought me back… )

The butler frowns. "It was within the realm of possibility, yes. If she had been alive by that point. As for yourself, precautions were made to prevent easy scrying of your location … or else Abzhalom would have surely found you first."

The Skreek's eyes widen and then narrow again. She hits the table with a fist and then starts grinding up the herbs at a madding pace, "It's too late. Dagh found me, and I ran into Abzhalom in Sylvania with a bunch of his Dagh wacko friends." She shakes her head, "So much for scruddy disguises; maybe I should have asked for the life mages to just pay me and ship me off somewhere instead."

"That you are alive would suggest that Dagh has other plans for you," the cat says. "And as for Prince Kiri's condition, you have surmised correctly. For reasons unknown to me, Abzhalom dropped his little game, and revealed that he could aid Prince Tachiri in gaining a male heir."

Rezhinald continues, "Abzhalom performed the rituals, and when Ria next conceived, it was a boy. Tachiri, however, reasoned that if word got out about this ritual, detractors would call into question Kiri's masculinity."

The butler says, "And so, Prince Tachiri murdered Lady Ria Naochi, and attempted to slay Abzhalom. He failed in the latter, for Abzhalom fled. And he chose to spare my life, knowing full well that I would not divulge his secret within his lifetime. So it remained a secret until Prince Tachiri, in a fit of rage, revealed it to Kiri during a hunting trip a few years ago."

The two hands rest on the table. "It was the same hunting trip in which Prince Tachiri met an unfortunate end, while baiting a monster trap."

"So how do you know I'm really Chiria? Even I don't completely believe it," Willow snorts. "Ever since I came here, people have been telling me I'm Krozite royalty, but it's like that priest and his hoohah Star worship – it's all sparkle and happy words with no proof. You know how many times I pretended I was a princess when I was a pup? You know how many people told me I was someone special or different right before they betrayed me and made me feel like a moron for believing them?" Her voice fades off as she picks up the last of the butler's story, "Poor Kiri… "

The butler nods, but then he looks at Willow straight in the eyes. "All sparkle and happy words? My dear Madame, have you listened at all to the tales I have told you of this family? With all the research you have been doing, have you not noticed how young so many rulers of Naochi went to their graves … in 'accidents'?"

"Yes, I am loyal to House Naochi, and I am proud of that loyalty in a way that you may never understand, even in the face of situations that a normal man might see as proving this family undeserving of loyalty… "

"… but what different does it make you, to learn that your father might have once lived in a stone castle, and that your ancestors may have had titles and land? What 'sparkle and happy words', in light of all the darker deeds that went along with that history?" continues the black cat.

"Why," continues Rezhinald, "would Prince Kiri be suddenly less a man the moment he was told by his father a story about a crazed mage and some blood-tainted ritual? What change does that make in the knowing? Did it make young Kiri any different than he was before, in truth?"

"Because it means I'm not who I thought I was, and I was comfortable in believing that. The belief that I was guttertrash just like every other rat on Sinai. My parents were shadows, but now this? Knowing that I had a sister who died so I could live? Knowing about Ria, about Tachiri." She pushes the bowl away. "It was easier to look at the street prostitutes and hating them because they reminded me of my mother. To hate every pervert filthy rat I met because one of them might be my pap. Just to believe I was a piece of trash that pulled herself out of the garbage. Even with all you've told me, I feel like I've sunken down, or at least done nothing but live up to my family's reputation."

"So," says the black Khatta after a pause, looking mildly surprised, "just what did you come here in search of? And don't tell me 'answers'. You strike me as intelligent enough to come up with a better answer than that, without resorting to cliches."

"Kiri suffers exactly what I suffered from; he dearly wants to prove the world wrong. And for a boy who doesn't have guidance, he did what probably anyone with his status would do to prove he was a man – he went out and did all the stereotypical manly things." Willow looks back up to the butler, "I came here to find out who Tachiri Naochi was, who Ria Naochi was, and what kind of deal with Dagh they made. I want to find out what Dagh has in store for me, and I want to see the altar where my sisters died with my own eyes – and if I have the strength in me I want to smash it into as many pieces as I possibly can."

Rezhinald says, "To reach the altar would be an act of heroism. Abzhalom reached it through magical means he did not reveal to me … for his camaraderie did not extend further than his jealousy at the notion of letting a rival have access to such a 'place of power'. You could be down there for weeks … provided you survive the traps and monsters lurking beneath the castle. To do such a thing would not be suitable for a mere symbolic gesture. It may cost far too much for that. As for the deal made with Dagh … it was a deal signed in blood, and one for which most of the benefits went to Abzhalom, I am sure."

"Abzhalom," Rezhinald says, "wishes to bring Dagh into this world again, and by means of dark magicks, to either make pacts with that dark spirit, or to bind him to his will. Although I am a descendant of House Dack, I am not so blind that I would wish this to come true. Dagh has no more love for his children than Prince Tachiri had for his infant daughters or his wife."

"Prince Cobalt said that Prince Tachiri had shown him a throne room. I'd been in a similar one back on the Diamante lands. Is that as inaccessible as well?" Willow sighs. "Dagh claims that his 'followers' aren't doing squat to hasten his return, but he's just batting them around for fun. Wonder what Abzhalom would think of that."

Rezhinald raises his eyebrows. "You mean to tell me that you are in personal communication … with Dagh?"

"Worse, I owe him a favor." Willow itches at the markings under her eye absently. "I acquired a bottle of black powder while in Abu-Dhabi from a shop run by a fellow named Punja. Things went a little boingy in there and next thing you know I'm having a conversation with Dagh. Later in Gallis when the priest that's with me ended up getting arrested I drank some of the powder with some liquor to see what would happen. Next thing you know I'm having a nice little dream and dinner chat with him and I get him to rescue the priest… in return that I deliver a message for him or make a potion, provided that it doesn't bring harm on anyone." She shrugs. "It was completely stupid, but I was desperate and I didn't want the dumb spotty to die."

Rezhinald furrows his brows. "Do you have any of this … 'powder' with you?"

"Another thing I was hoping to do here was to acquire some books about Dagh and Krozite history that might give me some insight on the fellow. I figure if I'm better prepared after all." The Skreek shrugs and then arches an eyebrow. "Yes, yes I do. I didn't want to keep it on my berth on the airship because someone might mistake it for tobacco or some mix in water happy drink. It's in my bags."

"Seeing as I am the butler," says the black Khatta, standing, "it would be most unseemly for me to ask of you to retrieve it. But I would like to examine this 'powder', if it is possible."

"Sure. I have a blanket I'd like you to look at as well." She pours a bottle of greenish liquid into the bowl and stirs it up rapidly. "This needs to sit for a bit anyways. Unless my luggage has been unloaded I figure my stuff's still with the cart in the stables."

Some time later, Willow returns with a curious little jar full of black powder, and a pinkish blanket that has seen better days. The butler, Rezhinald, takes a break from chopping up meat for a meal, and washes his hands before returning to the table to examine the items.

"Dagh called this stuff 'ashes', while Punja said they were from another world and were used for granting wishes. I know enough about potions and powders to tell what certain things are, but I've no idea what this is. I keep seeing it in places that Dagh's had an effect on though. Back in Sylvania, in an alley on Abu-Dhabi, and in a basket where I found this blanket." Willow carefully sets the two items down.

Rezhinald spends some time examining the powder, taking some of it from the jar and sprinkling bits of it into some vials of some foul-smelling liquids that hopefully he doesn't normally keep in the kitchen. One of the vials bubbles violently at contact, while the ashes quietly float in another vial of liquid, and dissolve in another. He continues more such experiments, observing the results, and then finishes with another one of his mumbled cantrips.

The Skreek observes quietly, gently kneading the blanket in her hands as she waits and watches.

At last, Rezhinald pronounces, "These are, no surprise, 'Ashes of Dagh' – in name, that is – which have a hallucinogenic effect in most people. An even lesser known side effect is that they make the user especially susceptible to certain forms of magic."

"What certain forms?" Willow bites her lip. "And do you know where they come from?"

"These would include Dream Magic, Mind Magic, and Light – or Scrying – Magic, as broad generalities," the black Khatta adds. "In short, that might explain why they would allow this so-called 'Dagh' to contact you more easily. As for why they show up in connection with supernatural activities… " The butler shakes his head. "… that I cannot tell you, only that it is a matter of obscure legend that this substance originates in conjunction with paranormal creatures associated with Dagh."

The Skreek sighs, "They already had to tear me down pretty good to change me, or that's what I figured from what the mages told me when I got my image lift and my healing. Bah, if only I knew who 'they' were."

"I could make some wild guesses, but I would only be making unsubstantiated accusations," says the black Khatta, as he quietly puts away his alchemical gear into a large tool case of sorts.

"So I take it that 'they' can find me now?" She pushes the blanket forward, "Maybe they already did."

Rezhinald is quiet as he examines the blanket. "Where did you find this?"

"Stuck in a tree near a stream. Some bandits tried to roll me and one of them got his head smashed open for his trouble. I needed to clean myself off so I went to the stream and heard this odd little song. It lead me to a tree and there the basket was, along with traces of that powder." Willow snuffs.

The Skreek tries to hum the melody as she remembers it, although not being very musically inclined her attempts are clumsy and somewhat off-key.

Rezhinald closes his eyes, muttering over the blanket. It doesn't take very long – surely not enough for a full cantrip – before he abruptly drops the blanket on the table, as if it had burned him. "Stop … stop that song."

Willow breaks off her music, "What? What is it?"

Rezhinald's hands shake. "She was murdered … she never reached Himar."

"But I was raised in Himar! Someone obviously took me there." The Skreek brings her fist down on the table to punctuate her point.

"Yes … that much is evident," agrees the black Khatta. "Twenty-eight years ago. But Sebazhan would have only been six years old… " His mumbling dies off as he covers his muzzle in his hands, deep in thought.

"No insight as to who did it? Could it have been Abzhalom?" Willow growls to herself, "Every time I think I have the right nut pinned down I'm wrong. For a bit I thought you were part of this, but I don't know who's pulling the strings anymore. I'm sure it's someone in the Dack family, but I've not the foggiest idea who."

"This is a game with many players," murmurs the black Khatta, "with many stakes that I apparently am not privy to. One of them is Castle Naochi itself … or, more precisely, that which is underneath. I have no doubt that Abzhalom wishes to have access to it so he can perform his cursed rituals. And Sebazhan no doubt would like it for the promise of a font of magical power to be found somewhere in the depths."

"But it would seem that there is more involved than that. I am afraid, Madame, that I cannot give you all the answers, laid neatly in a row," the black Khatta says, resting his muzzle against his hands.

"I hope you can keep the castle out of their hands then." Willow shrugs. "You've given me plenty of answers, more than I bargained for, I assure you. Now I need to figure out what to do next. I'd like to explore the ruins a bit. Maybe there's something written in the throne room that explains things. King Vrixt said something that made me wonder if the original Prince Naochi made a deal with someone. Er… don't ask me to explain that; it's rather complicated. But I also need to meet my ship in Olympia… which will bring me through Dack lands and I'll have to make the obligatory appearance there no doubt."

"Believe me, Madame," says the butler, "if you can successfully navigate the underground territories … you could very well find yourself popping up in either Dack or Olympia. They are indeed that vast … though a great deal is covered by the Hidden Sea."

"I think the bandits aboveground might be safer to deal with. I had a bad experience with Snicjers, and I'd be terrified to go to sleep down there with Gorts and Grooks wandering about. Not to mention I still have to carry the items we've traded for along with me. Barnacle will flog me if I don't come up with something worthwhile on this trip." The Skreek drums her fingers. "If you'll allow me to stay for the night, tomorrow I'd like to give the caves a quick explore if the maps Testy's making are all right, and after that I'll be on my way."

The butler nods. "It will, of course, be Prince Naochi's decision … but I am certain that he is already favorably disposed to you. I take it you have no plans of revealing your true identity to him?"

"No. Dealing with the past is probably hard enough for him. I'd just be another wound for him. Besides, we don't know each other. He may be my brother, but we're still strangers." Willow droops a little, "I don't suppose you have anything that used to belong to Ria? A necklace or some little trinket? I think after I leave here I'll probably need something to convince myself that this wasn't some insane dream I had."

"That would be difficult," admits the butler. "Any such mementos that Tachiri did not dispose of … might be in Prince Kiri's possession. But for me to ask about them might arouse his suspicions."

"Then never mind." The Skreek fumbles with the pink blanket and stuffs it in an empty pouch. "He might need them more than I do. Um, there's one last thing… You see this mark under my eye? What does it make you think of?" She taps the five little 'claw marks' under her right eye.

"It makes me think of the symbol of House Naochi," says the butler, matter-of-factly, as if the answer were obvious.

"So do you have any idea WHY I had the life mages put it on my face before I knew there even was a house Naochi?" Willow plants her chin on the edge of the table, "I had five put under my eye as a reminder of my years as a pirate, or at least that's what I thought I was doing. There's five longer ones on my back as well."

"Coincidence, perhaps," offers the butler with a shrug. "Or perhaps it was a subtle, subconscious influence by a vague memory from a traumatic time as … an infant." The mage furrows his brow at the implausibility of this latter theory, but lets it slide away. "I have no good explanation."

The Skreek nods, that answer wasn't too much of a surprise really. "Does Kiri know I'm alive? Or does he assume that I'm dead?"

"I never told him. He has no reason to believe that you are alive. Or, for that matter, that you even exist," the black Khatta replies.

"All the more reason to keep quiet. Part of me wishes I could tell him, simply because I'd like to have a family at least once in my life… but I just don't think it would help him very much." She taps the top of the table. "Are you familiar with some of the symbols that appear on the stones underground? I'm trying to find out what something that looks like a double 'X' stands for."

"That sounds something like the symbol for Moltpaa," replies the black Khatta. "The symbols for Three Kingdoms – and since you mentioned King Vrixt, I assume you are already familiar with some of this terminology – represented different parts of a Skreek. Vrixt's rune was the head. Stalto's rune was the tail. And Naochi's rune represented the claws. The rune for Moltpaa itself represents, in great abstract, the body.

Willow nods, "That makes sense. I think I'm going to have to try to drag some of those books up in my room and try to gather up what information I can. If you could help me find some useful books I'd greatly appreciate it." The Skreek taps a fingertip across the tip of the table. "I should probably check on Burr now; Copy might be driving him crazy. I just realized that I have a blind mutt and a spotty that only talks with his hands trying to help him."