Times have gone from bad to worse in the household of the Jupani noble, Nartak Rohonadan. The first signs began when meals for the slaves became smaller, and some meals never arrived. Then furniture began to vanish, and Nartak was always in his office – growling over unpaid bills and pleading with the collectors that seemed to constantly beat at his door.

It was obvious that things were become more dire when the young slave, Reseth, vanished as well. Master Nartak would not even mention where she went. Next, Naoko was gone. A great loss for the household… she had been there, well, it seemed like forever. It was almost impossible to imagine that the old slave was gone… the same slave who had taken care of Master Nartak himself when he was young.

There was only one slave left. Leeta. And her time was drawing shorter and shorter, she could sense it by the way the master acted around her. Finally the fateful day came… he woke the slave early in the morning, throwing a duffle bag at her and demanding that she pack her belongings. The slave's mandolin was slung across his shoulder.

Leeta staggers, half awake and starts putting her few possessions in the bag. A cold chill running down her back, making her feel very much that while she has woken up, the nightmare still continues.

Leeta sweeps the family momentos she has managed to hide all these years into the bag, wrapped in her last uniform. Closing the bag, she looks with still sleep confused eyes at her master, then remembers to gaze downwards.

The slave clutches the duffle tightly, shivering, trying to shake off the last grasp of slumber.

The wolf returns all too quickly. He's as angry as ever, but the edge is blunted a bit by some other feeling he's hiding. He adjusts the instrument on his back and motions for the slave to follow him. "We have a long walk… the sooner this is done with, the better."

Leeta nods, and takes a place a few steps behind her master, following him by watching his feet. She is glad her hands are occupied with carrying her possessions, and pads after the Jupani. She looks up momentarily at the mandolin.

{Maybe he will sell that along with me} She hopes to herself.

Nartak spins on his heel and storms out the door. The noble doesn't even bother to hail a carriage like he usually does – are times that bad? His bootsteps lead the Savanite down many winding streets, through quiet neighborhoods and past noisy shops. Onward and onward…

The Savanite follows her master, feeling the tension of worry that was hanging over her start to fade. {Whatever is going to happen, it'll happen soon } She thinks, as the worry is replaced with a doomed calm.

The mandolin bounces against the wolf's shoulder as he stomps along. Occasionally making a sick sounding *twang* when it bounces a little too hard.

Leeta winces with each discordant cry from the strings, wanting to ask that she be allowed to carry it, but her hands are full, and that is another question she isn't allowed to sign. She hurries after her master along the streets.

Eventually, the traffic becomes a little more heavy, and the streets lit somewhat better, and the guard patrols more frequent. Intermittently, through the interposing rooftops can be seen the topmost spires of the Temple and other major buildings of this district.

Their final destination begins to come into view. The Temple of Rephidim itself! Nartak glances over his shoulder to see if Leeta is still with him, and then he moves to talk in quiet tones to one of the guards.

The guard at the steps nods gruffly at Leeta's master, and waves him on up the steps, toward the main archways leading into the Temple and the Sanctuary and offices within. A few of the faithful (or those on errands that should take them in or out of the Temple) head up and down the long but shallow flights of steps.

Leeta looks up, past her master, at the ancient spires of the temple. Her few possessions held tightly against her chest. Then she quickly hurries as her master moves off.

Inside the tall, peaked arches can be seen elongated statues of personages of ages long past, and impressive stonework … though it has crumbled in places with age, and attempts to reinforce it have done much to detract from its original grandeur. The interior is lit by flickering torches, and there is a constant haze from sweet-smelling incense.

"Don't dawdle, Leeta." Nartak growls. He sounds like he's just trying to sound stern, impress the guards – but his ears are drooped slightly and his arms sag weakly.

{Will I ever see outside again, once I'm in here?} The red-maned slave wonders as she walks in past the arches, catching up with her master.

A side corridor is much smaller than the grand hall, but by no means cramped. Turning this way and that, the way leads past many robed and hooded servants of the Temple, and many side-chambers, until, at last, to an office occupied by a solitary avian dressed in brown garb with only a touch of color – less than what his own eagle plumage contributes.

Leeta shivers from a different kind of cold. The strange surroundings, and the faded glories making their impression on her. She tries to stand behind her master as much as possible, as he faces the avian.

There aren't even any guards to stop the noble at the door. The Aquilan Templar (that is, one of the Temple) looks up as if expecting the lupine, but gives no greeting just yet.

The Jupani noble enters quietly. "Nartak Rohonadan, I believe you are the one with whom I have been corresponding?"

The slave enters and stands quietly behind Nartak, her head respectfully bowed.

The Aquilan nods. "Yes. I am Inquisitor Keeya. Please. Be seated." He gestures with a wing-arm toward one of the plain wooden chairs in the sparsely-furnished office.

The office consists of a desk, some chairs, a wall cabinet, and a different wooden piece of furniture that looks somewhat like a bed, except that it's tilted at an angle, with shackles attached to it. Nearby is a rack with various instruments that look fairly unpleasant. Nowhere in the room can be seen any sign of the technology that can be seen elsewhere (if in ill repair), and the room is lit only by candles.

Nartak unslings the mandolin and places it gently on the floor. "Leeta, sit down once you find an out of the way place for your baggage." He looks back to the inquisitor. "As you can see, she's a fine slave. I've taught her to read and write. and she has also been an immense aid with my paperwork," he gestures to the mandolin on the floor. "She also can entertain."

Leeta looks around, quickly glancing away from the instruments and the bed, and finds a place for her bag just to the side of the door. She sits down in front of it, head lowered, and her hands folded in her lap.

{Oh star, let me keep the mandolin} The Savanite thinks to herself, {and please don't ever let me do something that would make them use those… things… on me.}

The eagle nods passively, and stands, waddling over toward Leeta, bird-claws clacking on the cold, ceramic-looking floor. "Open your mouth," the Aquilan demands.

Leeta looks up at the avian, her mane falling across her eyes as she opens her mouth for him. Her breath held, her tongue still, she waits as the avian looks into her muzzle.

The wolf just sits in the corner, wringing his hands.

The Aquilan scrutinizes Leeta's teeth, and beak-clacks something which might possibly be approval, if a guarded sign of such. "Now then. This hair. Very unusual. Hmm… " The bird spies the mandolin, distracted from that line of thought. "An instrument? Does she play?"

"Marginally well," Nartak responds. "One of my older slaves taught her. She also dances."

"Prove it," snaps the bird, gazing at Nartak sideways with one eye.

The wolf blinks, then slowly nods his head. He roughly scoops up the mandolin, rises from his seat and pressed the instrument into Leeta's arms. "Play something for him," he says – and adds a bit more softly, "Something very very good."

Leeta's thoughts cling to the image of Naoko, as she takes the mandolin. {Oh Naoko, must I always lose everyone?} She stares at the instrument, putting her hands to the strings, trying to think of anything good to play. She hesitates…

The bird shifts from one footclaw to the other, impatiently.

"PLAY SOMETHING!" The wolf growls.

The slave startles, and quickly dashes off a few notes, trying to catch a tune. She thinks of birds, a flock of note-birds, flying up free, out through the stones and away from here.

The bird waits a bit, then looks back to the wolf. "A novice. She will require training – and discipline." There's a glint in his eye as he adds that last remark. "But I believe she may be of some small worth. If the instrument and other items go with her, perhaps we may come to an agreement."

The music follows the flock, as Leeta wishes herself away. Lifting up, and up, she blinks her watering eyes, and plays herself away from the temple. She is soaring, she is untouched, held up by the music which echoes trapped in the small room.

Leeta twangs a note when she hears the word, discipline, then stops playing, to let her master and the avian speak.

The bird winces at the twanged note.

Nartak nervously clears his throat. "Of course. I was going to sell the mandolin at the bazaar, but I guess she may keep it… everything else she owns is in her bag."

The bird scrutinizes the Jupani. "You guess? Be certain of it. Whatever you give to the Temple, you must give with a willing heart." The bird focuses the wolf with a colder gaze.

Leeta thinks, {Oh thank you star, for letting me keep the mandolin} and sits as small as she can around the instrument.

The wolf doesn't even bother to look at his slave. "Bah… I'm certain. What have I need for the thing?" He scratches his chin. "So with her instrument… will that cover my debt to the temple?"

The bird looks as if he's pondering something else, then goes ahead and says it. "That hat on your head. I think it would look better on the Savanite. Throw that in as well, and I think your debt will be covered."

Nartak winces. With a resigned sign he sweeps the silver trimmed hat from his head and hands it to the eagle. "I have her papers. Will I need to sign anything?"

"Of course," answers the bird, as he places the hat on the desk, rather than on the slave's head to try it out. The Aquilan pushes over several forms. "Sign here. And here is a quill and ink. I have some other matters to tend to while you finish the paperwork. Sign at every point crossed."

Leeta feels incredibly embarrassed for her poor master, and sits still, holding the mandolin tightly, and looking down at only it.

With that, the Aquilan struts on past, and right out the door, leaving the Savanite and the wolf in the chamber.

Nartak walks to the paper, and with a few flourishes he signs them – not even bothering to read them. He places his hands on the desk and just stands there for a few moments; looking for all the world like he was the one who had just been sold.

Leeta looks up at her master's back, wishing, just wishing something else. She blinks her eyes, trying to clear them, and just waits.

The wolf slowly turns from the desk and walks to the red-haired Savanite. He goes down on one knee until he's eye level with her.

Leeta lowers her head as her master approaches, then raises it, as he kneels down in front of her.

The slave's eyes tear, leaking into the black lines down her face. That is why they were given those markings, so the sadness would know where to go when they cry.

"I am sorry," the wolf whispers. "For everything. I've been such a monster." Nartak balls up his fists and just looks at them, those same fists that struck Reseth. "You probably won't be seeing me again after all of this. The spice market is ruined for Rephidim… so I'm going to join my father in Himar. It will mean starting all over again."

Leeta keeps blinking, trying to hold back the feelings of being all alone again, her hands waving, trying to sign, so much to say, but managing only, "… please… ". She gives a small bark as the tears overwhelm her eyes.

Nartak says, "Here now… none of this." He tries to wipe the Savanite's face with his sleeve. A little too roughly.

Leeta holds onto Nartak's arm, choking her breath around her tears, wanting to sign, 'Please master, it's notyour fault, don't go, don't leave me, thank you, keep me, I wish things were another way.' But she would have to let go to sign, and she can't.

The Aquilan walks back into the room, his foot-claws scuffling on the floor. "Hmph." The bird checks the forms. "Well. All completed. This will be satisfactory. You may leave now."

Leeta lets go, knowing she will not see Nartak again. She looks down, wiping her hands down her face to press the tears into her fur, and then folds them on the mandolin.

The wolf jerks upright as the eagle enters. He looks from the aquilian to the Savanite, and back to the aquilian. With a resigned sigh, he gently takes Leeta's hand and kisses it. A moment later he vanishes through the doorway.

The Aquilan turns his attentions to Leeta. "Pick up your things. And the instrument, too. You'll have to carry it yourself." He looks to the hat. "I'll hold onto this, though. My superior has a fondness for hats such as these."

Leeta nods and stands, trying to swallow down her emotions. She carefully slings the mandolin across her back and picks up her bag. Holding the sac in front of her, she keeps her head respectfully down, hiding her wet eyes beneath her mane.

The bird leads the cheetah out of the room, through the dark corridors of the Temple.

More cheetahs are visible, going about on errands … and then the avian Inquisitor takes Leeta to what appears to be a section set aside for quarters for Savanite servants. "Here. Make yourself at home," the bird says drily, directing Leeta toward another slave.

Leeta nods, unable to sign a reply, and looks up at the other slave.

The slave, an old male Savanite, looks up at Leeta and quickly bows to the Eagle. He remains downcast until the bird departs, only then does he rise up to look at Leeta.

The male Savanite offers Leeta a rag to wipe her face with.

Leeta puts down her bag, and holds her hands up to sign. She doesn't know where to start, and manages simply, "I'm Leeta". She takes the rag, and rubs her eyes and muzzle with it. "Thank you."

"I am Blasek." the other Savanite signs. He points to Leeta's bag. "I will need to know what you have brought with you."

"I have just some spare clothes… " She signs, hesitating "… and some things to remember my family by. My old master let me keep them, they're all I have left of them. "

Blasek nods. "Most of us have mementos… keep them hidden. If they are found, I will not take the blame for it. As for your clothing, I'm afraid that we will have to take that. As temple property, you may wear only what the temple gives you." He takes up the mandolin and motions for Leeta to follow him. "To your living quarters." he signs with his free hand.

Leeta grabs up the bag, and follows after the older slave. She watches the mandolin, and follows him to her new space.

He leads the red-haired Savanite down many dark corridors, up a set of stairs, and finally into a chamber lined with doors on either side. He walks to one with has a magenta and green crest upon it and enters. Inside is an extremely small room. A cot lies on the floor, a table with a candle sits in the corner, and a wardrobe with several drab colored robes sits parallel to the bed.

Leeta follows into the small room, crowded close against the older Savanite. She looks around at the table, robes, and the cot, then sets her dufflebag down on the sheets.

"Please change into one of the robes. I will be back in a few minutes to give you something." the male Savanite signs as he places the mandolin next to the wardrobe. He dusts his hands off and quietly exits through the door, the hinges scrape noisily as the door closes.

The firey-haired Savanite strips out of her clothes and takes up a robe. It is snug when she puts it on, a generic robe designed to fit the average Savanite, not a tall one.

Leeta unpacks her momentos and looks for someplace safe to hide them, settling on the back of the wardrobe for now.

A few minutes later, a soft knock echoes from the closed door.

Leeta takes up her old clothes and opens the door.

Blasek bows to Leeta as she opens the door. In his hand are two pieces of a slave collar, also colored garishly in bright magenta and green.

She looks at the collar, the enameled colors driving it all home for her. {I'm theirs now, this isn't going to be just another dream.} Leeta puts down her clothes, and opens her old collar, trading it for the new one.

{Goodbye Master} The Savanite thinks as she also hands over her old clothes, imagining the feel of his kiss on her hand. {Hello Master.} Leeta thinks, putting on the new collar.

The male Savanite takes up the old items, placing them in a bag slung over his shoulder. "Have you had breakfast yet?" he signs once his load is comfortable. "the food here is not the greatest… but it does fill one's belly. I can bring you a bowl of oatmeal and some bread if you like?"

Leeta signs, "No, I haven't anything this morning, or last night. I would like anything you could bring me. It has been a horrible time, my old master was ruined. I was the last thing he sold. I knew it was coming, just… "

She pauses, shaking her head and hands, signing, " It doesn't matter anymore. I'm very hungry, please bring me anything."

Blasek looks around to make sure he's alone, then places his load down at his feet. "These are strange times, child." he signs with both hands. "Even the temple slaves are getting new masters. But we must do our best to serve, for times will get better." He gives Leeta a reassuring pat on the shoulder and hefts his bag. "I was city-born," he signs with his free hand. "Do you have a tribe name?"

Leeta replies, "Yes, I was Fire-Mane, from my red hair. I was very young when they took me from the jungle. I don't remember exactly, 11 years old, maybe 8. It was a long time ago. I am Leeta now."

The male Savanite nods. "I saw your mark. I have seen some with marks through these halls… some have turned out to be very noble slaves… others have been nothing but trouble. I hope you are of the former, Fire-Mane." The slave turns to go. "I will bring you food as soon as I have put away your belongings. Meanwhile, do not leave your room."

Leeta nods, "They are just colors, they don't mean anything. I have tried to be a slave my master would be proud of, and I will try to do the same here. I'll wait for you to return."

Blasek vanishes down the hallway. This time he leaves the door just the slightest bit open.

Leeta takes up her mandolin, and sits down by the door with one ear resting close to the crack. She fingers notes on the mandolin in silent practice, unwilling to disturb the quiet of the hall.

The hallway echoes with the sound of passing footfalls and conversation – most of it impossible to make out. The soft footsteps of other slaves walking to and from their rooms also reach the Savanite's ears.

She hears the outside noise, and lets her mandolin sing very quietly in a voice easily covered by the echo's outside, but still loud enough for her. Leeta thinks of everyone she's known, and plays a note for them, listening to each fade away.

The new temple slave plucks quietly, no sense or plan to the music, just notes of resignation. {Everything changes.} She thinks, {I should know that by now. I just have to adapt.} Her notes ring quietly in her small room.

Leeta keeps playing her quiet tune, the sadness, tension, anticipation, worry and uncertainty that had been crowding her, fading into the ancient stones of her room, whatever would happen, has happened. The fear replaced by a calm acceptance of it all.

The door slowly creaks open as a yellow-furred foot pushes it back. Blasek walks in with a tray in his arms. He wiggles his ears and grins, unable to sign with his burden.

Leeta smiles, scooting out of the way to her bed, eager for the food and her mouth already watering. "Thank you," she signs. "You don't know how hungry I am, but I bet you can hear it."

The male Savanite gently places the tray on the table. Steam gently rises up from the bowl of oatmeal in the center of it. There is also a small plate of biscuits, a bottle of water and… as Blasek slyly points out, even a piece of Bromthen ham. The mean is gristly and looks to have plenty of fat in it… but it's still meat. "I need to tell you about your work here with the temple, so please pay attention to me while you eat." The Savanite walks to the other side of the room and seats himself on the floor where he can easily be seen by Leeta from her spot on the bed.

"There were no knives… only spoons." Blasek points out sheepishly, gesturing to the wooden utensil that sits next to the bowl.

She nods, watching him while starting into the food. The meat a welcome treat, the biscuits, a better meal than she's seen in days. She takes up the spoon and starts on the oatmeal, signing with her free hand, "Thats okay, I'll make do."

"First, you should know the rules here," Blasek begins. "First and foremost… you are to do as you are told, without question. If your master is making you do things that you feel may cause harm to the temple, you tell them to me first."

Leeta nods with a worried look, deciding not to ask.

"Secondly. You are not allowed to leave this room unless bidden to. Eventually you will be given a schedule of places to be at certain times of the day once we find out what kind of your you're best suited for. But should you find yourself with nothing to do… under no circumstances are you to walk blindly around the temple." He continues.

"I can entertain, and I'm also very good at copying and working with documents." Leeta signs, still spooning oatmeal into herself.

"Thirdly, be wary of casual conversation with the other Savanites here. You never know when someone might decide to use you as an 'example'." The slave gnashes his teeth as he signs the word 'example'. Not a pleasant experience to be sure.

Leeta pauses, suddenly having a hard time swallowing, and thinking about the 'instruments' she saw in the avian's room. She gets her food down with a gulp of water and signs, "I understand."

Blasek scratches his chin as he thinks of anything else that might be important. "Do not talk too much about the nature of your work. Many of us do very private and secret assignments for the temple. As for the specifics of what kind of work you will be doing… that will be determined over the next few days. If you show yourself to be responsible and hardworking… you will be given more responsible work. If you are lazy… you will be punished."

The other Savanite nods, "I am used to working hard, and like it better than punishments." She pauses for another bite and sip of food. "How do I know what time it is, here in my room?"

The male Savanite smiles. "You will eventually get the feel of time here. By the sounds mostly. You will find that it is not that hard to get used to." He rubs his nose. "I am sorry if any of my signs have upset you – but in my experience I have learned that it is best to be direct. So, do you have any questions that I may answer?"

Leeta signs, "I'd rather be told the rules than feel them. Just a couple questions, can I practice my mandolin? Do you know if a young slave, or an old one also recently came here? Does my collar color mean anything, and where is the privy?"

Blasek blinks, then smiles and wiggles his ears. He reaches under the cot and pulls out a ceramic pot. "This is for the call of nature. Leave it outside your door when you go to your work in the morning. We have slaves responsible for taken them up and cleaning them. It will be by your door again by the end of the day. As for the rest… as long as you do not play so loud that you keep those who need their sleep awake, you may practice. I have seen many slaves come and do through these walls and will need you to be more specific to answer that one. And your collar color currently represents the person whom you will be working for. Arch Inquisitor Moffat. You are currently not his personal slave, but depending on your performance… that may change."

The male slave pushes the pot back in its previous place.

"The were the slaves from my old household, Reseth and Naoko. I think they were probably used to pay other debts… " Leeta pauses, "… but I wanted to ask in case. What does the Arch Inquisitor value from his slaves? "

"I am sorry, but those names are not familiar to me." He readjusts his sitting posture. "As for the Arch Inquisitor… he does not like mistakes. He does not like inquisitive slaves that poke into matters that do not pertain to them. He does not like it when a job is not done quickly. And most importantly, he does not like the work his slaves do to be discussed openly. He is a man of much power, and we are mere slaves. Do not forget that."

The fire-hairdo slave feels herself pulling into a submissive posture from just the description. She signs,"I will not forget, I will not cause problems. I am just a slave, I know that, I do as I'm told."

"Then you will do well here." Blasek says with an ear-wiggle. "Sometimes the inquisitors may take their anger out on you, but as long as you work hard and do as you are told, all will be well. Just remember, the last slave that served under the Arch Inquisitor now cleans your chamberpot."

"I am used to that as well." She signs, "I will try hard, and remember your warnings. Thank you Blasek, I don't feel as lost here anymore. I will be a noble slave, you'll see."

The male Savanite bows and takes up the tray. "Today you may rest. I will come and fetch you when it is time for lunch."

Leeta smiles at the older slave, signing, "Rest, another thing I have not had much of in the last while. I'll be here, sleeping hopefully." She sits back on the bed.

Blasek bows again and exits out the door. He shuts it with his free hand with another tooth rattling grind. Makes one wonder if the door was just poorly made, or if it's that way purposely to keep better track of when slaves come and go.

The new temple slave listens to the door grind shut, sitting on the bed with her legs pulled up around her instrument, {I can rest at least today, and they let me keep the mandolin!} She looks around her room in the dim flickering light.

{Though it will be hard getting used to. I hope I can stay within the rules. They certainly want to know where I am all the time, and I'm terribly easy to spot.} She hugs the instrument, {But I have this! It won't be so bad after all.}

Leeta makes some space in the wardrobe, and puts away the mandolin, then puts out the candle and lies back on the bed, listening. {Blasek said I would know the time by the sounds of the temple soon enough, but I know what time it is now. Time to sleep.}

… and she does.