It is afternoon, though inside the windowless walls of the Temple, there's nsign of the sun to verify that … only a sense that can be picked up after muchtime living here, based upon daily routines and varying traffic and such. Finding the areas of least traffic at this time of day, a solitary Savanite makes her waythrough the Temple, familiar to those she passes and thus largely escaping any particular notice.

Leeta is carrying two folders, and has her mandolin strapped across her back. She is a little out of her normal area, being in the Quartermaster's section, but walks confidently and quickly as if on delivery. She scans the hallways, looking for a certain Savanite, her sister Zorah.

A Savanite catches Leeta's attention … but it's not Zorah. A tall cheetah in layers of veils and silken attire indicative of some noble's personal entertainer (and thus out of place here in the Temple) strides by, her forehead adorned with a sequined headband, one hand holding a wooden baton topped with a headpiece of darker wood sculpted into an upraised hand.

The fire-haired Savanite takes a careful look at the other finely dressed one. The quality of the clothing, the headband, the height, and that she's an entertainer sparks a possibility in Leeta's mind. She looks the other slave over,searching for something recognizable – markings, walk, or a gesture she might remember from before.

The mandolin strap cuts into her shoulder, and causes her to give a little shake. Leeta can't stand around too long without someone noticing. Her hope of meeting Zorah was based solely on luck, as she doesn't know her sister's schedule. Still, she can watch this other slave a moment longer.

The other slave slows her pace, looking at first offended as she notices Leeta's attentions … and then she stops entirely, looking back. "Who might you be?" the dancer signs, with a forced look of indignation.

"My name is Leeta. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare. It is just unusual to see another tall Savanite, and I thought you looked familiar." She signs, holding the folders under an arm to free up both her hands.

The dancer looks back, signing, "That is funny. I thought for a moment you looked familiar, too, but that is impossible."

The dancer signs, "The chances of running into a sister named 'Fire-Mane' in the middle of a Temple, let alone finding out that several other sisters thought long gone would simply be too unreasonable to expect," with a perfectly straight face, after a calculated pause.

The red-maned Savanite blinks, "Moon Brow?"

The dancer smiles. "My, but you are fast! Have you a moment?"

Leeta nods, "Yes, do you have some place we can talk?"

The dancer doesn't reply, but simply strides in the direction she was originally going, as if nothing had happened at all … though her tail curls a couple of times in a subtle "come along" motion.

The fire-haired Savanite starts after her sister, then affects a disinterested air, as if she was just making her delivery and their destinations were similar. She ignores Moon Brow as much as possible while still following her.

{This is just as she said, too crazy to believe. Oh Star, I seek out one sister and find another, who is left?} Leeta muses as she walks along.

A few turns, and the dancer leads Leeta into an area that is not officially blocked off, but is clearly avoided at all costs, since it is one of the areas "under temporary routine maintenance" by the Technopriests in a section considered "low priority". With bits of debris, equipment, opened panels and other obstacles about, it is a deterrent to traffic, but convenient enough to find an alcove to slip into, out of sight of anyone or anything else.

The fire-haired Savanite follows the dancer, trying to pick out her first signs. The surprise has left her stunned, and Moon Brow seemedas if she expected to encounter her, very odd. As soon as they stop, she puts down her files so she can speak.

The dancer turns around, smiling at Fire-Mane. "I'm glad you didn't make a scene." She frowns a bit, then signs, "Whatever you do, don't touch me. There's no time to explain. I'd love to give you a big hug otherwise." She gives Leeta a sad look.

Leeta nods, "I am almost getting used to meeting my sisters. What's wrong, are you sick?" Her expression mirrors the unhappy expression on MoonBrow.

The dancer frowns, signing, "I have paid a high price for survival here, and I cannot live up to what I have been entrusted with." She reaches down to the baton, which she has set down, leaning against the wall, and picks it up, holding it in both hands, and presenting it to Leeta.

The fire-haired Savanite looks over the baton, wondering what questions it will answer. She turns it over in her hands examining it. Looking up to sign, "I missed you, I love you," then returning her gaze to the strangeitem.

The dancer smiles faintly, then signs, "It is the Hand of the Ancient. It was once Grandmother's. You will need it to defeat Third-Vision." Her smile fades.

{Oh Star, is it that I am growing used to strange things, or have my recent troubles made me grow cold.} Leeta wonders about herself, then asks, "What do you know about her? How do I use it, what is wrong Moon-Brow?"

The dancer signs, "I know all about Third-Vision that you do, and perhaps more. She maneuvered her way into the possession of Lord Titus haut Mikide, under the illusion of being his 'play-thing', so that she could be in a position to regain the City of Hands. Now, it is within reach. I know about your candidacy. I would try to challenge her, but my years have grown short before my time." She pauses, then signs, "Can you dance?"

Leeta nods, holding the baton, "Yes, but it is just dance, not the spellweaving ones."

Moon-Brow nods in response. "This will give you what you need.You supply the dance – and it supplies the power of our ancestors. With it, if you are strong of will, you will be a match for Third-Vision… and you will prevail, because her heart is wicked."

The fire-haired Savanite nods, clutching the baton with both hands, {But what if her heart has changed… ?} She releases one grip to sign, "Thank you, I had no chance otherwise. But how did you get this… and Moon-Brow, what happened, what have you done to make you so sick?"

Moon-Brow signs, "The slavers did not realize the true nature of the Hand of the Ancient … and perhaps somehow it affected their judgment. Its ways are mysterious, and there is no way to train in its use. It is different for each one who holds it, but it is only of use to the royal line. … Hold it up and concentrate on the hand. You will see for yourself."

The mandolin strap seems excessively heavy on her shoulder all of a sudden, and Leeta becomes very aware of the hanging panels and loose wires in the corridor around her. The baton in her hand feels… mundane, but the worry that chases her seems to have caught up again. She hesitates, then raises the Hand of the Ancient.

Fire-Mane focuses on the wooden stick in her hand, concentrating on it, willing all the distractions around her to fade. It doesn't seem to be working, then the thought comes, {Like looking at the master's desk, just see everything, and remember it, that's the trick.} She lets the shape and detail of the baton register in her mind, memorizing it, filing each indent and whorl away as she just stares.

The shadows of the alcove close in around Fire-Mane as she concentrates … and then violently snap away as a burst of energy ignites in the center of the space cupped by the upturned wooden hand. The energy coalesces into a dancing flame hovering in place, not touching the wood, but somehow coming from nothing at all but the air itself.

Moon-Brow gasps, then her look of surprise slowly changes into a smile.

Leeta blinks, looking into the flame floating in front of her. Her shock is endless.

On the other side of the flame, Moon-Brow signs, "Fire. It has become fire for you … the perfect light to drive out Shadow."

Leeta slowly starts to smile, {Fire… to light the darkness… or consume everything.} With a hasty thought she wills it to go out. Now.

It obediently pops out of existence, without leaving so much as a smell of smoke to hint at its previous appearance … and the light slips away in but a fraction of a thought.

Moon-Brow signs, "I cannot train you. Only by working with it – and dancing with it in hand – can you begin to learn how it will behave with you. It is different with each one who holds it."

Fire-Mane can't help but grin, so much still she doesn't understand, but seeing her namesake spring up in front of her gave her a satisfaction she's never felt before in all her successes. Still, she has questions, "How did the slavers use this to shorten your years, what effect will it have on me?"

Moon-Brow signs, "This had nothing to do with it. It was the spice." Her gaze drops. "It takes away the pain … but it does not do so for free."

"Can't you be cured, isn't there anything that will help?" Leeta wants to reach out, and hold her younger sister, but the warning keeps her back. The ache remains though, someone she loves is in pain, and there is nothing she can do about it.

Moon-Brow signs, "Do not be distracted. The whole world is at stake. Third-Vision will visit the nations with her wrath, and will consume all inher rage. I have seen her since her return. Do you think I am not touched by the sight ofthe cubs? But do not be fooled that because she watches after the Vartan's cubs that her heart changes. The old ways still live within her."

Leeta nods, her own heart sinking and her posture turning submissive, just like she has been trained to do when receiving a reprimand. Her hands tighten around the wood, till she feels it painfully pressing into her fingers, and some of that returns to her stance. Fire-Mane stands tall.

"I will not let that happen, but I have to know. You say she is the darkness, and I know that was true, but I have seen more darkness than I thought possible." Leeta signs, one hand flashing as she steps a foot onto the folders, "I am not going to let the darkness consume me, but I am not going tolet it take others, not if I've got the light to show them the way out. I will know for myself."

Moon-Brow signs, "Only you can be the one to find out for yourself." Her gaze drops again, then she signs, "I must go. I will see you again. Do not fail. For the sake of all, do not fail."

Leeta signs, "Please Moon-Brow, let me help you. There has got to be something I can do for you."

{Even spice… but dear sister, don't ask that of me, I may not be able to say no.} The fire-haired Savanite looks at the dancer.

Moon-Brow shakes her head slowly. More so now, she looks so frail. Before, the perfumes, the fine attire, her poise … they hid her fragility, but closer, and after a bit of time, there's something distant in those eyes, something faintly gaunt about her cheeks … something dead about her fur, lacking in luster. Buried under the perfume, it may only be Fire-Mane's imagination, but there even seems to be a sickly sweet scent that somehow speaks of death. "Not now. There will be time later. You must become strong – and then you must challenge Third-Vision. The Twelve-Times-Twelve respect power, and eve nallow the rules to be broken. How else could they accept one who sold her family into slavery? Their values are not ours. Don't let them follow Third-Vision. Don't let her become Priest-Queen."

Leeta wants to hold her little sister so badly her heart is twisting to break. So weak, so hurt, her condition so unfair. Moon-Brow's wasted appearance and the aura death push her back, but this is her sister. She can't give upon her, can't let her slip away, and despite the warning she reaches out, "Please… "

Moon-Brow recoils, then slips out of the alcove, dashing down the corridor, retreating into the darkness.

Her hand closes as she sinks down against the wall. The emotions she thought vanished return, and Fire-Mane cries for her sister.