Farmer Gaunt is somewhere in the city, having dropped off his passengers at the Merryweather, and then gone off to do what business he can. Not that it'll be easy – the banks, at the very least, are closed, since this is a holiday: Harvest Tide. Burr was dropped off at the airship, reunited with his son, Thorn. Copy seemed surprised to actually get paid for his time with Willow, and promptly vowed to spend his money unwisely.

At the very least, though, that allows some time for sight-seeing.

It's evening now, and the sky is clear of clouds. The streets are lit with torch sconces mounted on poles, combined with the glow of the Procession. The torches cast odd light on the statues standing here and there – idealized felines in togas (or not), in dramatic poses, but with calm, expressionless faces, and empty eyes, stoically accepting the ravages of time in the form of lost limbs, weather-worn features, and their original identities being lost to history.

The streets are far from quiet. After all, this is a tourist attraction, and it's a holiday. Whether or not the ancient Olympians actually celebrated Harvest Tide, one is led to believe so now, complete with "authentic" celebrations … the authenticity varying depending upon one's pocketbook.

Statues of the gods have flowers, wreaths and produce piled at their feet as tributes, and burnt offerings are served up as rare, medium rare or well-done. Past the fountain in the center square, there is a great feast going on with natives and tourists alike … but it's roped off, and a sign reads, "More Than You Can Eat, Harvest Tide Feast, 50 Shekels" An authentic stone vomitorium is conveniently located nearby.

For those with more realistic appetites (or smaller pocketbooks), booths line the street, selling produce and flowers to give in sacrifice to the gods, or food to stuff oneself with … as well as little conveniently portable idols, models of the temples (artists' reconstruction, of course), and "genuine" artifacts, cast from plaster, then cleverly given a good wash and dry-brush job to make them look like weathered stone.

A bored-looking chocolate-furred kitten sits by the corner, beneath a sign that says, "Toor Gide Cheep – 5 Shekuls." Near him, there is much dancing and revelry going on, as cats dance to the music of tambourine, claw-harp, hand-drum, pipe and lyre.

Still, even if tourists get good treatment here, Willow and her two companions – a cheetah with a helmet on his head, and a blind mutt – draw a few looks, and prompt a few tourists to double-check their pouches as they pass. One old Kattha woman in heavy robes, leaning on a crooked staff on the front steps of the Shrine of Primus, openly stares at the small group as they pass.

Willow's head swivels around to stare back at the old Kattha, glaring at her eye-to-eye as she walks along the street. ( You think I don't know I'm a rat? Why don't you go stare at a garbage dump for awhile instead? )

The old lady Kattha doesn't avert her gaze. There's something odd about it. It's so hard to read her expression. Not that all the wrinkles help any. She isn't grimacing. She isn't glaring. She doesn't look afraid or wary. She's just … staring.

Three Savanite servants in togas walk by, bearing plates overflowing with fruit and bread upon their heads. A small cluster of grapes falls off one of the plates … and Copy, opportunist as he is, somehow notices and drops down to the ground, patting around until he finds the cluster. He wipes it off, then begins popping grapes into his mouth. He looks quite pleased, and he hasn't even spent a single shekel yet.

"Hold up, boys. Something's a little odd here." The Skreek tugs at Copy's sleeve to give the mutt a good idea of where she's going and starts to walk towards the old Kattha.

Over to the wayside, it looks like the festivities are wild enough that even some of the Savanites get to dance. There's one particularly striking-looking Savanite (her service to her master probably not worth inquiring about) in purple and black silks, who seems to have drawn a small audience – including a familiar-looking white Skreek with a patch over one eye. A foppish-looking collie who simply smells Gallisian tosses a blue rose at the dancer. She catches it up, and, in a deft motion, tucks it into her hair, not even missing a step.

Testament-Blaze shakes his head, turning away from the spectacle of the dancer and the other slave cheetahs, then signs, "What is amiss?"

Copy coughs on a grape, then gulps it down. "What? Who? Are we in trouble?"

Willow marches over to the staring Kattha and pauses when she's fairly sure she's within speaking range amidst all the noise from the crowds. "Is something wrong? Do I have a big bug in my hair that nobody's bothered to tell me about?" Her tail swings back and forth.

The old lioness just looks up at Willow, and it appears that she's about to speak, but just then a young and muscular lion-Khatta in red drapes and holding a "ceremonial" spear steps up, interposing himself between the old woman and the Skreek. "Show some respect! This is the Oracle of Parthos!" He glowers down at the rat, only briefly averting his gaze long enough to make sure that the helmet-headed cheetah and the blind mutt get their fair share of glaring as well.

"The Oracle was staring at me like I was some kind of freak! If I sat on the corner and gaped at you, you'd probably demand an explanation from me!" The Skreek grinds her teeth, simmering. "I would at least like to know why a rat merited such attention, especially from someone from her station."

The old lioness quietly creaks, "Achelon, dear, please step aside."

The lion guard takes a moment to realize what he's just been told, and then he tucks to one side. "My apologies, Oracle."

The Oracle just sits there, leaning on her staff, her wrinkled face now faintly pulled up in the vaguest hint of a smile that struggles against gravity. She looks exceedingly frail, especially compared to the tall facade of the Shrine of Primus, with its thick columns, the sturdy beams forming its roof, and the stern visage of an enthroned lion god bathed in the golden light cast from a burning brazier. Even out here, the smell of incense is strong, and the air seems slightly hazy from the smoke.

Willow's nose wrinkles at the smell. "So what is it? I know I'm acting quite rude, but the way you were glaring at me gave me the creepies. I'm used to the looks that tell me I don't belong, or the ones from lustful rats or jealous shiphands or such… but you were looking at me like I'd just turned bright pink or something."

The Oracle says, "You are no ordinary Skreek, I can tell that much. You have the mark of the Fates upon you. If you live long enough, yours is the sort to do great or horrible deeds in your lifetime. It is not often that I see a one like that passing by the Shrine of Primus."

The Skreek turns her head and spits on a patch of bare dirt on the edge of the street. "Pah. I doubt I will live long enough. It's a rare rat that lives to the end of its life." She glances up at the statue of Primus. "Did the giant stone kitty tell you that?" She jerks a thumb at it.

The Oracle slowly rises from where she sits, leaning heavily on her crook. She shakes her head. "Dear, dear lady … I am a patient old woman. It is one thing to speak roughly of or to me … but another to speak of Primus so. I will tell you this much, however, before I go: Beware, and do not become too sure of yourself. There are powers far greater than you at work here, and they can be quite jealous of each other." With that, she turns and slowly makes her way up the steps.

The lion in the red drapes snorts. "I knew you were a waste of her time. Off with you!"

"Waste of my time is more like it," Willow growls back and starts to shuffle away from the steps. She feels a small pang for being rude to an old woman like that, but she's still the servant of yet another god. "C'mon Testy, Copy… might as well visit the whole Pantheon while we're here. I'm interested in knowing if it's really true about Dagh getting a shekel for every time someone says his name… "

Copy barks, "Ah, so he is a god of wealth as well? I wonder if I could get kick-backs for saying his name often enough."

The black-and-purple-draped cheetah dancer seems to have caught the attention of an armored knight, as they walk off arm in arm. A disappointed-looking Whitehead looks about for an especially drunk member of the opposite gender … then spies Willow. He blinks, looking rather surprised, then rubs at his eye and his eyepatch. "Willow! Oh! How I've missed you! You're back!" He pushes a kitten out of his way and rushes over toward the lady rat and her entourage.

The Skreek pauses to glance at the dancing cheetah again. "Or you'll get a hefty bill for it later, Copy. Might be best to try to get money from a god that won't ask for your soul la – URK!"

Testament-Blaze's gaze keeps after the dancer and her companion, so he doesn't notice the oncoming white rat.

Willow hastily leans on her staff, conveniently placing it in front of her and hopefully between her and Whitehead.

Whitehead says, "Hey! And it looks like your arm is all better! Oh! Oh! Yeah … uh … I got something here for you… " He digs around through the folds of his clothes, and pulls out what looks like a piece of cloth with a few wooden rings stuck in one side. "I got you some authentic local garb! Just in case you showed up. I mean, uh… Well, here you go!" He hands over the scrap of cloth.

"Whitehead, I only ever wore a dress once out of politeness for the Diamantes… If you think I'm going to wear a scruddy toga." The Skreek holds the garment by one of the little rings. "What in blazes are these things?"

Whitehead gulps, then says, "Ah … ah … they're … uhm … you put it around your wrist, see?" He starts to demonstrate, shoving the wide wooden curtain rings around his pudgy forearm. And you turn it about like this and … " He's doing a pretty good job of getting himself tangled up. RIP! "Oops! Uhm … Oh! Sorry. I think this is defective. Why … when I get my paws on that vendor! Oh! I think there's enough cloth left to wear, actually." He hands Willow what's left, minus the section with the rings, which are still wedged around his forearm.

Copy just munches on grapes quietly.

Willow shakes her head. "Whitehead, I'll be on the ship later tonight unless someone decides to roll me. I would much rather punch your clock there instead of here in public, so could we finish this later? Besides, in a few more hours someone is bound to get drunk enough to find rats with eyepatches dashingly handsome."

Whitehead brightens. "Oh! Would you care for a drink, then?"

Copy snorts, coughs, then spits out a mangled grape.

"No. Pester me later. If you're that desperate, go and ask the old woman in the Primus Temple over there to tell you what you need to do to get to me. She apparently knows a whole scruddy pile of stuff about me as it is." Willow's eyes glance to Testament-Blaze, curious as to why he finds the dancing cheetah so fascinating.

Alas, Testament-Blaze is no longer there.

Whitehead says, "Oh, that witch? Aw, I'd never resort to that!" He looks thoughtful. "Well … see you back at the ship!" He marches past Willow.

"Oh spit! I'll finish this later." She grabs Copy's sleeve and dips her head, trying to catch the cheetah's scent as she moves in the direction she vaguely remembers the dancer going in with her companion.

The chocolate-furred kitten scurries out of Willow's way, and Copy spills the last of his grapes as he's yanked along. "Oh! Mademoiselle!"

The rat's intuition (and nose) lead her to the front steps of the Temple of the Pantheon, where Testament-Blaze is exchanging signs with the dancer, the knight standing calmly to one side. From this angle, though, what is being signed can't be seen.

The Skreek pushes forward until she can put herself in a better angle to read the handsigns properly. She doesn't want to interrupt the priest if all he's doing is talking to a friend, but wants to make sure he's not about to get clobbered by the knight either. She squints at the warrior, trying to place what order he (or she!) might serve.

The warrior has strange sigils on his helmet. Actually, the warrior's armor looks very similar to the priest's helmet and his earlier costume design. It's just that the warrior looks like he might be able to go toe-to-toe with a Titanian, and he's got a sword over his back that looks like a Gigi could use it to surf waves with.

Willow takes a few steps closer and then loudly clears her throat.

Testament-Blaze jolts, then turns about. A silver chain is dangling from his hand, and it looks like he has some sort of pendant there as well. He quickly remembers himself, and hands the bauble back to the dancer.

Copy pants. "Are we there yet?"

"We're here. Take a breather, Copy." The Skreek looks carefully at the three assembled figures in turn. "I had thought you had run off and gotten yourself into trouble. Warn me next time before you dash away. Care to introduce me to your friends?"

The lady cheetah reaches behind her neck to attach her necklace, then drops the pendant under the folds of her clothes … which surely defeats the purpose of wearing it, since it's no longer visible. She then signs, "I am Morgana. I am a dancer."

Testament-Blaze signs, "My apologies. I was distracted. I did not mean to cause a scene."

Willow tries to squint at the pendant before it completely vanishes, trying to get a good look at it. "Just as long as the big fellow in armor here doesn't plan on hacking you in half with his sword or anything, then I suppose no harm was done." Her gaze drifts again through all three of the assembled figures. "I get the feeling I'm interrupting something. I'll go if you'd rather, as long as you promise me you won't cause another Gallis. I'd rather not have to pull favors again."

The pendant looks faintly like a primitive rendition of the symbol of the "Star" … or maybe it does. Hard to tell before it's tucked away.

The priest ducks his head. "There will be no trouble, I assure you."

The knight shakes his head, and takes Morgana's arm, and they start to walk away. As he passes the priest, he bows his head. The priest returns the gesture, clasping his hands together, then making a sign of the Star.

Copy sniffs the air. "Things have gotten reallllly quiet over here. I smell incense again. Are we near a temple again or something? Hmm. I smell food, too."

"Sorry Copy, just a bunch of finger wiggle talk." Willow elbows the mutt. "You know I'm starting to think that your dream lady should wear veal-scented perfume to attract you." She peers after the departing couple and signs to the priest, "Some slavemaster wanted you to bless his dancer or somesuch? I doubt you'd bless a prostitute."

Testament-Blaze signs, "He is from Abaddon, and she is no prostitute," the cheetah signs, "Their intentions are honorable."

"An old friend then? Sorry if I inadvertently insulted them… just… well… a Savanite is a slave here, and when a slave dances like that, I tend to think it's because their master has ordered them to." She shakes her head. "Oh well, I shouldn't pry. I know when people are trying to be discreet." The Skreek peers into the Pantheon building. "Feel like expanding your religious education, Testy? Maybe we can buy some grub for Copy as well."

Testament-Blaze nods quietly. Copy barks, "Oh, don't forget – I have my own shekels to spend! And it's been a long time since I could say that. Grub sounds good, regardless."

Willow shrugs. "Alrighty then, we'll pay the gods a little visit. Hopefully they'll know how to treat guests." She starts to walk into the building.

From the outside, the Pantheon Temple looks like a dome supported on multiple columns set about in a ring. Torch sconces are set inside the lip of the dome, above each column, and black stains rise up toward the top of the dome on the inside. Below, an inner ring of statues can be seen, somewhat irregularly arranged (suggesting that a few may have been added or removed over the ages), staring at something in the center of the temple that they herd about.

As Willow walks inside, though, it's evident that what the statues are looking at is a pool … a pool that casts eerie light on the underside of the dome.

The dome has an opening in its ceiling at an odd angle, allowing a bit of the Procession-light in, but the rippling light cast by the glowing pool is more than could be accounted for by reflection. It illuminates the faces of the gods in a curious way, from below, and for a moment, it even makes it look as if the mouths of the gods could be moving, as if they are quietly muttering to themselves while contemplating the pool.

There are a few stone porches branching off from the central dome chamber, without much regard for radial symmetry. Of these, the one that looks to be the most intact would be the Porch of the Mewses, which hangs precariously out over the cliff, its columns carved into feline forms that stare endlessly over the Procession-lit waters.

The Skreek tries to suppress a shiver, although some of it manages to travel down her spine and cause her tail to twitch oddly for a moment. She quietly creeps forward towards the ring of statues and tries to make out who the figures are.

Even though there are no walls to seal off the city, there is something odd about the acoustics here that seems to shut off all the noise from the outside … all the noise, save for the rise and fall of the sounds of the lake … the waves brushing against the rocky shore and eroding away the cliffs.

Some of the gods are easier to identify than others. A big lion must be Primus. An even bulkier feline that looks a bit like Burr (sans spots and scar) might be Behemoth. There are many more gods and goddesses here than account for nine planets and a sun (or however many planets there are supposed to be these days).

"Testy, try to keep Copy from falling into the pool," Willow squeaks softly as she peers at the base of the Primus statue. (I wonder what he's supposed to be the god of? Maybe he has it in for rats.)

"Pool?" barks Copy. Testament-Blaze interposes himself between the mutt and the water.

At the base of the statue are piled many offerings of food. It must have been put there today – probably this evening – because it doesn't smell overly "ripe". The other statues have similar offerings.

The pool looks curiously as if it might be made of crystal … but a crystal that ripples like liquid, and glows with an internal light.

The statue of Primus has a few flakes of golden paint on him. It looks like it can't be as ancient as the stone. Perhaps someone thought to paint the statues at some point in time.

The Skreek walks in a slow circle as she examines the statues. "Yes, a pool, and don't eat any of the food in here either. I've got enough gods angry at me right now."

Copy makes a disappointed whine. "Ah, as you wish, mademoiselle."

( All cats look alike to me. Maybe I need to find one that's had black paint spattered on it. I wonder if there's a statue on the opposite side of the pool for some god that doesn't think too highly of the one I'm looking for… of course, do I want to owe a different god a different favor? ) She continues her slow circle around the pool.

The goddess directly opposite Primus is fairly slightly built as far as goddesses go. She has a few patches of dark paint on her. And so does … It's Dagh. It's just a statue, but just for a moment, it looked, out of the corner of her eye, like he was smiling at her.

Dagh, incidentally, seems to have the distinction of having not a single offering placed at his base. Popular guy.

"Hmp. Looks like not many other people buy into that talk about riches and eternal life either. Guess word of your low opinion of your followers finally got out." Willow gives the statue a small salute and then peers across the pool, trying to see if the statue has a potential counterpart on the opposite side of the pool.

On the opposite side, there are a couple of cherubic little kittens that crowd in, but it appears that Dagh's direct opposite would be a female Kattha with a few flakes of white paint visible on her "fur". She looks fairly young as goddesses go, an early adolescent perhaps, and definitely one of the shorter of the gods and goddesses. A contrast to the bland expressions of most of the gods and goddesses, she has a mischievous quirk to one side of her mouth.

Copy says, "Huh what?"

Willow circles around the pool and kneels down to clear away some of the offerings at the base of the statue of the white Khatta enough to read her name. "Nothing, Copy. I just like to talk to myself a lot and Burr's never complained so it's a habit I've stuck with."

In Olympian, the carvings spell out "Ariel. Goddess of the Spirit World. Messenger of the Gods."

Copy chuckles to himself. "Well, if you start praying to any gods, be sure and warn me, so I don't get a swelled head, yes, Mademoiselle?"

"I haven't said any prayers in a long long time, Copy." Willow carefully places the offering back and brushes her hands off.

Copy barks, "With all the trouble we've been through? Ah! You amaze me, Willow of Wisps!"

Testament-Blaze quietly walks around the statues, curiously regarding them.

The Skreek kneels down in front of the pool and carefully dips a finger in the water. "Gods have better things to do than worry about the prayers of a rat. It would take a moron of a god to actually bother pushing a bit of garbage around." She shakes her head. "Anyone in particular you pray to, Copy?"

Copy laughs. "I don't name names! I just pray and hope that whomever hears me and can do anything about it will know that he or she is the one I mean!"

The water tingles to the touch, and ripples spread out. It's liquid, all right, despite the strange effects. Perhaps it's just an odd reflection of crystals beneath the pool. Still, that wouldn't explain the glow.

The water feels warm to the touch, and doesn't have any scent. Hmm. Funny. Neither did the dancer or the armored knight.

A sing-song melody breaks the relative silence, as a young Olympian girl traipses up the steps, holding a bouquet of flowers.

"Mind that. Remember what that Primus Oracle said about the other gods being jealous of each other." She glances up at the statues and follows their gaze into the water again. "So it's a fancy little pool. Wonder what you chaps find so interesting about it." She quietly touches a drop of the liquid to her tongue and then hastily stands up, not wanting to offend the girl.

The girl skips on up to the circle of statues, humming a tune being repeated out in the streets. She has flowers twined in her hair, much like Morning-Mist was decorated when Willow first met her … except that this feline happens to have hair to braid the flowers into. She stops and looks to Willow. "Oh. Hello!" she says in accented Rephidim Standard. "Are you here to pay tribute to the Pantheon as well?"

The Skreek droops a little, remembering how much she misses Morning-Mist. She glances back at the state of Dagh. "Sort of, although it's more like I'm paying my respects. Do you know much about this temple?"

The milky-furred girl smiles pleasantly. "Oh yes! I know all about it. I'll trade you for what I know."

"Er. Trade me?" Willow pats her pockets. "I've not much to give except for a shekel or two."

The almost-kitten shakes her head. "Oh no! I don't want money. I mean, if I tell you a story, you have to tell me a story!"

"Oh! Well that I can do, I suppose. Any type of story you're particularly interested in?" The gray rat wipes the remaining few drops of water from her hands against the fabric of her shirt. "Most of what I know might spook you somewhat."

Copy, meanwhile, wanders out to the Porch of the Mewses. Testament-Blaze hurries after him, as if to make sure the mutt doesn't take the shortcut to the beach.

The girl giggles. "That's all right. I like spooky stories. But fair is fair, and you asked first. What do you wish to know?"

"Well for starters, what can you tell me about Ariel? I notice that she seems to be an opposite of Dagh over there. Is there any connection between the two?" Willow starts to seat herself next to the pool again.

"Ariel? Oh yes. Well, she's a naughty goddess sometimes. She likes to play pranks and tricks on the other gods and goddesses … and on mortals sometimes, too. But the other deities tolerate her because she's a good messenger, and she's almost reliable." The girl sits down on the floor right in front of the statue of Dagh. "I suppose maybe she's played a little bitty prank on Dagh every once in a while. But as for a connection … oh … not really, I suppose. But I think it's one of those silly wizard things. They like to organize everything into opposites and groups."

Willow nods. ( A prank was what got me started in all of this business. Last thing I need is to curry favors from a prankster. ) "And what can you tell me about Dagh over there? I hear people using his name as a profanity all the time but most folks don't know much about him."

The girl turns about, looking up at the statue of Dagh, and smiling faintly before turning back. "Oh. He's a very naughty god. He makes illusions. He would make a good prankster, too, but he doesn't have enough of a sense of humor."

"So why is it that nobody's given him any offerings? And what do you mean by 'naughty'?" The Skreek peers into the glowing pool again.

The girl says, "Oh, well, he wasn't just an illusionist. He's a sorcerer … oh … I don't know if that's the right word. A conjurer. He has contact with nasty monsters from the 'other place'." She nods toward the pool. "People think that he's the god of the afterlife, of those who get punished. I don't think so. I mean, not really."

"So what do you think he is, then?" Willow itches at the black markings on her face again.

The girl sits back. "I think that people have turned Dagh into something he isn't. Dagh was a naughty god … but I think people have made him out to have more control over things than he really has. They keep forgetting about the other gods and goddesses, and blame everything bad on Dagh."

The Skreek nods. "I notice you came here with an offering. Who were you going to give your flowers to?"

The girl giggles, gets up, and places the flowers at the feet of Dagh. She climbs up on the pedestal and gives the stern face a peck on the cheek, then hops down. "Even if he is a naughty god, I didn't want him to feel lonely."

Willow sits up stiffly. "You shouldn't do that."

The girl looks back to Willow, frowning faintly. "Why not?"

"I suppose that I can explain by telling you that story… although you can choose not to believe me." The Skreek taps at her chin.

The girl smiles. "Oh … I'll believe you." She sits back down, smoothing out the folds in her dress.

"There's a bunch of meaningless filler story that would bore you to tears, so I'll gloss over that. Suffice it to say I had my first experience with Dagh in Rephidim when a demon summoned up by a staff bearing his name tried to kill me, a second time in Sylvania when I met three of his followers… one of whom was quite mad and tried to knife herself in front of me while another was responsible for the death of three babies, a third time in Abu-Dhabi where I came into contact with a bottle of black powder from a shopkeeper named Punja Hekl who worked in a store that vanished out of existence, and then things were quiet up until I ended up in Gallis. I found myself in a wild race where a companion of mine got captured and a lot of my friends ended up dead. I couldn't help my captured friend so I went to my cabin to drink myself into a stupor. For kicks, I put some of that black powder in the mix as well." Willow bites her lip.

The little girl just nods, smiling. "Go on?"

It's only the fact that the kitten reminds Willow so much of Morning-Mist that she tells all of this and continues with her tale. "Next thing you know I'm having a dream about Dagh. He was amazingly pleasant and debonair, enough to make a lady like me feel scruddy uncomfortable. But during that chat he told me about himself. He said he likes to 'stir things up' and make trouble. He claimed responsibility for a great many things that had happened to me previously, and then I made a deal with him to help my friend. On the condition that I pay him a favor later. Of course, after that it seemed like everything went wrong and it wouldn't surprise me if Dagh had a hand in it. He's not the cackling evil monster in storybooks, and he's quite nice… but he doesn't care about his followers one whit and probably couldn't care less about most of the people walking around on Sinai. Don't take pity on him. He'll only use you for it later." She rubs her head.

The girl smiles. "But why would he use me? I have nothing he wants. And he has nothing that I want. All I want is for him not to feel lonely, that's all. Maybe if he thought someone cared about him, he wouldn't be so naughty." She then shrugs. "Probably not. But it was worth a try."

"What's your name?" The Skreek glances at the statue behind her and compares the kitten's looks to Ariel's.

The appearance … and the expression … match exactly … although the flowers someone thought to drape on the statue's head for a crown are not part of the original sculpture, evidently.

"I'll trade you for it!" the girl mews, smirking mischievously.

She glances back and forth between the kitten and the statue. "I have the feeling I've already guessed, or I've gone mad and think everyone I bump into are gods these days. But as I'm a rat who always pays for what she gets, I'll bite. My name is Willow the Wisp – Willow for short or you can call me Foxfire. Just don't call me Will, because I Won't."

The girl giggles. "That's a good one! Well, my name is Ariel. Do you like my flowers?"

"It's a practiced spiel. The longer it takes to say your name, the more important you sound, I suppose." Willow cradles her chin in her hand and sniffs at the air, trying to pick up the scent of the flowers in front of the statue. "They look pretty, although I'm no judge."

The flowers don't smell particularly familiar. They might be something 'native' to the area, or perhaps a local "breed" of flower raised by local gardeners. Perhaps not surprisingly, they're the same type of flower worn by the little girl as decoration.

"Thank you," says the girl, "and I think you make a fine judge so long as you say nice things about me, hmm?" She winks, then she frowns. "Do you not like yourself?"

The Skreek just shrugs. "I don't know, if that makes any sense. But if forced to choose between a 'yes' and a 'no', I'd have to say no… I don't."

Ariel's face brightens into a smile. "I like you. And I bet I'm not the only one."

"You probably don't know me well enough." Willow forces a smile. "Have I saved your life sometime without knowing it? That seems to be a prerequisite for people who like me. Except for the people who like me like Whitehead likes me." She shakes her head. "Why do you like me?"

Ariel says, "Because you're nice when you don't have to be."

Willow shrugs again. "So I have a conscience. It's so people won't make the same stupid mistakes I did when I was a pup. It's so people like Misty won't end up like me, even if that village wasn't going to kill her. It's so Testy might actually make a difference to one of the people he talks to, it's so Thorn will have a daddy, it's so Kiri won't go thinking he's a freak and throw his life away. I don't want them to end up all spoiled inside and hating everything like I do, or with blood on their hands like mine."

Ariel nods, smiling. "I think that's a very good reason to like you. You could just not care."

"You shouldn't like a rat, an ex-pirate, a murderer… that's not how it's supposed to go." The Skreek rubs a hand through her hair. "If you are Ariel… I mean… THE Ariel, why did you bother to visit me? Just to tell me you liked me?"

The girl nods, smiling. Then she points at the pool. "That pool is magic, by the way. It's said that it's a gateway to a realm of magic, but that it only works for certain people."

"How did you become a god? I mean, Dagh's told me a few things, but none of it made any sense." Willow kneels down in front of the pool and dips her hand in the water again.

"Goddess," the feline mews, giggling. "Oh, well, if Dagh didn't make much sense … maybe you've met more than one Dagh? Just because someone says he's Dagh … doesn't mean he is. Even if he thinks he is."

The girl looks thoughtful, then mews, "The pool you see there is a focus of powerful magic. Bathing in its waters can bring one closer to the realm of magic. But only under certain conditions, and only with certain people, blah blah blah." She shakes her head side to side, looking bored, then mews, "Anyway … oh yes. Becoming a goddess."

"Goddess, sorry. I was speaking in generalities." The Skreek swirls her hand around lazily. "I assumed Dagh told you about me, or maybe Primus was a little miffed that I was a bit rude to his Oracle. Just, I figured you all were great mages or such."

Ariel smiles. "Something like that. Dagh was a mage, anyway. Some of the gods and goddesses … " She looks around again, then gets up and pads over to Willow, and sits down again, leaning over to whisper, "Don't let this get out, but some of them are just made up."

"My secret." Willow puts a finger to her lips. "I don't know if you can answer this, but what about Testy's Star? Is that made up or was this Star a mage at one time?"

Ariel frowns slightly, looking up, biting her lip. "No. The Star's not any mage. But … I don't really know. Maybe there's a Star. But… " Abruptly, she shifts expressions, smiling again. "But if the Star ever comes to play, I'll make sure we make a nice statue for him!"

The Skreek shrugs. "What would happen if I tried to take a dip in the pool here?"

Ariel shrugs. "Well … what happened the first time you touched it?"

"It felt warm, and it had no scent. Just seemed like a warm pool. If this wasn't a public place I'd be half tempted to take advantage of a hot bath." Willow smirks slightly. "Not that I'd ever want to be a god, mind you. Too many people saying my name in vain and asking me to bail them out of trouble they got themselves into… "

Ariel smiles. "I can't blame you. In any case, what I was hinting at was … " She looks over toward the statue of Dagh. "You put your finger in the pool … and then this little girl bringing flowers walks into the temple. I guess maybe I'm just the easiest to summon." She winks.

The Skreek hastily pulls her hand out of the pool. "So I called you?" She glances at the Primus statue. "What about that big fellow over there? Was he real?"

Ariel nods. "Yes. But he's not omniscient. And neither am I."

Willow sighs. "I just… well… I just want to know what that woman meant by me having the mark of the fates. Is it true? And if it is… why me? Couldn't the fates have picked a better person like Testy?"

Ariel shakes her head. "We can't touch him. I think it's because he's not from Sinai. Oh … and by the way, 'Sinai' is one of those goddesses that got invented, by the way. They did that when they got the bright idea to start naming the planets after us, and wondered why there wasn't someone to represent this planet, and the Sphere of Air. So they invented a new goddess. Anyway … Hmm. This is hard to explain."

Ariel furrows her brow, trying to look serious, though on a face of her apparent age, it looks slightly silly. "First off, you're really 'pliable' to magic. But there's something more than that. Maybe you were born under a strange alignment. Maybe you were dedicated to the gods as a baby. I don't know. But things are going to happen around you."

"Dedicated to the gods?" Willow folds her hands in her lap. "Do you know what kinds of things? I… I at least need to know if folks like Burr will be in danger if they stay around me, or if I should try to send Testy home."

Ariel shrugs. "I'm not saying you're going to save or destroy the universe or anything. You're just a bit odd, that's all."

The Skreek chuckles. "I won't deny that part. But I can take a bit of comfort in knowing that I wasn't chosen to be some scruddy crusader or anything. That's for people like Prince Diamante."

Ariel smiles. "Well, there's no need to go sending all your friends away." She then looks a little more serious. "You never know. You might need them … and they might need you. But don't expect too many words of wisdom from me. That's not my specialty." She goes back to smiling again.

"Right. You're the messenger." Willow itches at her head. "I don't suppose you could send a message to someone for me?"

Ariel mews, "Hmm. Trade you for it!"

"Can you send a message to Ria Naochi? Or Morning-Mist? In return, I'll be happy to pass along a message for you." Willow smirks. "Or I'll try to get you some of your favorite flowers outside and put them in front of your statue."

Ariel smiles again. "Certainly! Two for two. Just let me know what you want delivered."

Willow taps her nose. "Tell… tell Misty that I hope she's happy and I miss her, and that I'll try to see her again as soon as I can. As for Ria… tell her that even though I've said a lot of horrible things about her and I'm still angry at her about a lot of things, I'm still grateful for the sacrifice she made to spare my life and I'll try to make sure Kiri ends up all right." Willow swallows. "What are your favorite types of flowers? Or would you prefer some candy instead?"

"Oooo! Candy sounds good." Ariel giggles. "Or how about we compromise, and you get me a candy flower? They're not too pricey, I promise. Now then … my half."

Ariel hunches over, whispering into Willow's ear, "I want you to go find someone you like … and tell him or her. In person." She winks.

The Skreek winces. "Does it have to be in public or can I tell them privately?"

Ariel says, "Private is fine. I don't deliver my messages in public. I'm not asking you to humiliate yourself." The Kattha giggles.

Willow dips her head. "I know who I plan to tell. Just if I tell him in public, it will probably embarrass both him and me." She clears her throat. "How will your messages be delivered? In a dream or such?"

Ariel nods. "Well, one of them, in any case."

"Can you really deliver a message to Ria?" the Skreek asks, chewing on her lip.

Ariel frowns faintly. "I believe she'll get it. But I can't get you a reply back. I don't really rule over the 'Spirit World'. Not like people would think."

"I'll take your word for it. Now, where can I get you this candy flower?" The Skreek brushes herself off. "Burr's gonna think I popped a gear."

Ariel giggles. "Head straight out, down the steps, take a left at the vomitorium, watch the left side of the street, and just under one of the torch-poles is a marmalade Kattha girl about my age – my apparent age, you know what I mean! – selling them for her mother."

Willow nods. "I'll have Testy drop it back off here for me. I think he has some friends he's been wanting to visit anyhow. Meanwhile I'd better get going. It… er… was nice meeting you."

Ariel smirks. "Nice meeting you, too. Don't worry. I'm not going to hug you or anything! Have a happy Harvest Tide!" She then turns and starts to skip away, humming to herself.

The Skreek winces a bit to herself before walking towards the Mewses. "Hey guys. I'm done here. I have a little shopping to do and then I need to go back to the ship for a little bit. Testy, can you deliver something to this Temple for me?"

Copy takes in a lung-full of fresh air. "Ahhh! The smell of the ocean! I didn't know Gallis was so close to the ocean."

Testament-Blaze turns around and nods.

"Er… you're not in Gallis, Copy." She motions for the two to follow her. "You can snort at the wind later. Testy, I'm going to buy a piece of special candy and I want you to put it at the head of the statue of Ariel – it's the one across from Dagh. You're not performing any act of worship or such, so don't worry. You're just dropping a gift off for a friend."

Copy starts to protest, "I know we're not in Gallis, but we didn't go far… Oh, never mind… " He shakes his head and follows after the cheetah and rat.

Some time later, Willow makes her way back to the Merryweather. The bulk of the crew is still out getting sloshed. Copy never did get around to spending all of his hard-earned shekels. He seems to have decided that if he were to spend it on anything anyway, it'd be on somewhere better to sleep than on the back of a wagon or in the gutter of a street, so he's opted to "crash" on the ship for now. Testament-Blaze is still out running his errand, and maybe visiting his "friends".

Willow finds Burr and Thorn up on the deck. Maybe it's just the imagination, but Thorn almost seems bigger than when she saw him last … though he's still a pip-squeak compared to Burr. Burr is pantomiming and signing something of his adventures, occasionally chalking out really badly drawn pictures on the deck to illustrate his stories. (Of course, he'll have to clean all that up later.)

Willow holds a small candy flower in her hands, a twin to one she sent the priest off to deliver. She swallows, growls to herself and walks over to the two cheetahs. "Burr, I need to talk to you. Thorn can come along too this time. I… suppose it's not very bad news." She offers the flower to the cub.

Thorn's ears wiggle, and he hops up and down, signing, "Thank you!" several times over.

"In my cabin. I don't want to say it up here for everyone to gawk at." She knows that the ship is fairly empty at the moment, but the fact that she's out in the open makes her feel vulnerable for some reason still.

Burr looks faintly worried, but obediently follows, pulling Thorn along. Thorn drags a bit, trying to "clean" the chalk marks off the deck a bit before they go.

The Skreek hastily moves belowdecks and stuffs herself away in her cabin, madly chewing on her lip and fidgeting with her hands and clothing along the way.

Burr ducks into the cabin, his expression full of concern … while Thorn is still busily twirling the candy flower around his paws, until it's starting to get sticky, and he licks at it … and then figures out that it's actually edible. The flower doesn't last much longer than that. Thorn still looks happy, though.

The Skreek sits down on her bunk, mulling how to say it all in her head. She could go the cheap route and totally confuse Burr, probably scare him more than anything and really not fulfill her promise. No… it has to be sincere. "I'm terrible at things like this, but… well… I promised someone I'd say this to someone I meant it to tonight, and you're my victim. I thought Thorn should be here because he should hear this from me at least once in his life."

Burr at this point couldn't look any more confused and uncertain, so his expression doesn't really change. Thorn stops licking his fingers, though, at the mention of his name, and pays attention.

"When I first bought you and Thorn, I did it to get you back, out of revenge for all the trouble in Abu-Dhabi. My original intention was to make every day a living hell for you and hold your son's collar over your head as my blackmail line on you." Willow shakes her head. "You'll noticed that I stopped doing that very quickly. It started with Thorn. I'd… I'd never seen a happy child before or been so close to one. It rubbed off on me and I started looking at Thorn as something more. Then I looked at the person who loyally took every insult I slung at him and still did everything I told him unflinchingly and unwaveringly, the man who obviously loved his son and as far as I know hated nobody in the world. Well, that really changed my opinion of you, Burr."

Burr just sits there, listening, absently ruffling Thorn's head-hair.

The Skreek fidgets with her hands. "You and Thorn are like my family. If there were anyone I were to call my friends, my brothers… it would be you two. It's getting to the point where I don't completely feel right having you as slaves… but in all honesty I'm afraid to set you free because I don't want you to leave me." She shrugs. "It's a stupid reason, but it's the truth. If there's anyone I'd want to tell that I felt was a friend, it's you." She makes a waving motion with one hand. "I probably sound like a complete moron."

Burr fervently shakes his head in the negative. Meanwhile, Thorn pads over to Willow and looks up at her.

Willow clumsily pats Thorn's head. "You know I don't hug, kiddo." She looks back to Burr. "And I hope you always had some inkling of this?"

Burr signs, "You good master. I no leave you."

Thorn's ears wiggle, and he smiles … then pads back over to Burr and crawls up into his lap. Burr winces only momentarily as his ear gets used as a hand-hold.

"Be sure you mean what you say, Burr. The road might get rougher. Some Oracle told me I was marked by the fates or somesuch." Willow scoots back on her bunk. "This isn't too much different than Demes, really. Except if the captain's brother showed up to cause trouble, Barnacle would probably give him a swift peck to the ribs." She chuckles, trying to make a joke to hide her nervousness. "If you ever want out or if you ever want to leave… I'll let you. It'll rip me up, but I will."

Burr hugs Thorn and nods quietly to Willow.

The Skreek nods towards the door. "Now scoot. I'll sit here and think about the million other ways I could have said what I just did in a less corny way. You still have some catching up to do, and I'll help you swab the deck in the morning."

Burr at last smiles … and before he lets Willow have too good a look, he gets up and carries Thorn out of the room and back up to the deck.