Flakes of snow dance on the winds, indecisive about where they may touch down. Several of them land on the backs of the cartoony, thick forms of the n'gyahs, turning their shaggy backs white. The Kavi driver is bundled up to the point where he almost could pass for just a bag of blankets holding the reins, if not for the puffs of condensed breath coming from the front. His chatter of words has been replaced by a chattering of teeth. It may not yet be Landing Day, but winter comes early in the mountains.

In the valley below, plumes of smoke give forewarning of the cottages nestled between the mountains, huddled together as if for warmth. A distance away, aloof, and above the cottages, stands a castle of dark stone, with tall, bony spires that seem to defy gravity as they reach up for the clouds. No snow collects on the castle to offset the black, as the sun must keep the stones warm enough to melt the fluffy flakes before they have a chance to gather in force.

Willow pulls a Chronotopian hat down over her ears. It's not much of a head-warmer, but it serves in a pinch. She draws her knees up against her chest as she peers silently out the carriage window.

Testament-Blaze frees up his hands from the blanket he's bundled in to sign to Willow, "Might I ask you about this 'yorspice' that we didn't trade to Prince Naochi? I am gathering that this is a narcotic substance?"

The Skreek blows on her hands. "Something like that. I've been told it makes you see things, or just makes you happy for awhile. I didn't think Prince Kiri should be taking the stuff."

Testament-Blaze signs, "Wouldn't it be better if we simply disposed of it?"

"If you don't mind explaining to the captain why we chose to dump the most valuable bit of cargo he had to trade, or coughing up enough goods to make up for the losses." Willow frowns slightly.

Testament-Blaze signs, "I am troubled by the morality of trading in mind-altering substances."

"I'm troubled with the morality of stealing from my captain." The Skreek glances out the window again. "We traded plenty of ale along our trip. Yorspice isn't illegal, and if some moron decides to go wacky with it, then it's his own fault." Her ears droop and she covers one eye with her hand. "Look, the best I can do is not trade it at all and let the captain deal with it when we get to Olympia. Either that or we can find some way to buy it and dump it that way."

Copy blinks blindly. "What's this about dumping ale? What?"

Testament-Blaze bows his head. "I have stated my concerns."

The carriage jolts a few times, and the Kavi lets out a startled cry. "WhoawhoawhoaWHEW!Don'tworrynothingwrongupherejustalittleslipperythat'sall,almostdowntothevillage,berightthereanyminutenow!"

Willow smirks. "Just answering some of the priest's finger wiggles. Truth be told, after all the scruddy trouble that yorspice caused in Gallis, I'd be happy to get rid of it myself. But at the moment, any losses we take could put the Merryweather down for the count, and I'd rather that not happen." She grips her seat as the carriage jolts.

Burr sticks his arms against the walls to steady himself, so he doesn't squash Willow.

The carriage picks up speed as it goes downhill. The Kavi can be heard chattering to his n'gyahs.

The Skreek grabs one of the cheetah's arms as though it were a handrail and uses it to hold herself steady as she peers out the window. "I wonder how the ship handled itself in this cold… "

The snow-covered rocks and frosted trees rush past. The carriage jolts every once in a while, as the Kavi yanks on the hand-brake and chides his n'gyahs.

Willow bristles, "Hey driver! Is everything all right?"

The Kavi chitters, "JustgoingalittletoofasttryingtoslowdownBOYthisroadisslipperyWATCHITWATCHITWATCHIT!"

"Can we help?" the Skreek shouts. Her grip on the cheetah's arm starts to sweat slightly despite the cold.

The carriage jerks hard, and there's a loud snap. A few splinters bounce past Willow's view. "OHDAGHOHDAGHOHDAGHOHDAGHOHDAGH" chitters the Kavi, and the n'gyahs can be heard bellowing.

Copy says, "Ah … Pardon me, mademoiselle … but I am starting to worry."

"Oh spit!" Willow fiddles with the latch on the door. "Burr, grab Copy. Testy, try to get out with Burr and help him. I'm going to climb up to the driver."

The door pops open, and bangs around a few times. "WHOAWHOAWHOAWHOAturnlefturnlefturnleft!" chitters the Kavi. "EVERYBODYWEGOTAPROBLEMWAKEUPWAKEUPWAKEUP!"

The big cheetah grabs the mutt, prompting a surprised yelp. Testament-Blaze scrambles to open the other door.

The Skreek takes a breath and tries to climb out the door to the top of the carriage. "We're up… "

As Burr leans out the other door, the carriage suddenly leans that way … but Burr quickly catches on and gets back inside. The two left wheels touch the ground again.

Willow scrabbles to the top of the carriage, almost losing her balance as it leans. She raises her head up to asses the damage.

The Kavi is busily urging his n'gyahs to brake left, but they're slipping their way down the road, right toward a sharp bend … at what looks like a sheer drop from this angle. (It might just be a steep slope, but … ) It looks like the wheel brake is what was broken – or, at least, the handle. The brake is still there, but with no handle, there's no real leverage to get on it that you couldn't get by applying your boots directly to the wheel. And, considering that braking one wheel causes the carriage to lurch to one side anyway, its utility is in question when rolling this fast.

Willow's eyes narrow, "Testy! If you can hear me, I need you and Copy to lean on one side of the carriage so Burr can jump out, then I need you all to make a leap for the open door… on my mark. Blast it, I hope you can hear me." She grabs the driver's shoulder. "We have to bail. There's no other choice. Can you cut the n'gyahs free fast enough?"

The Kavi's ears pale, and he hesitates … but there's not much time to hesitate further. He nods. "YesyesyesyesI'llclimbdownandpulltheharnesspinOHDAGHOHDAGHOHDAGH!" He starts scrambling down the front of the wagon.

Meanwhile, a couple of cheetah ears and dog ears can be seen on the left side of the carriage.

The Skreek bites her lip and holds the end of her tail out to the Kavi. "I can spare breaking this… in case you lose your grip." She leans to the left as well. "Burr… three… two… one… GO!"

A dog and a cheetah tumble out of the carriage to one side … and a bigger cheetah hurtles out the other side. At that same moment, the Kavi pulls up the peg securing the n'gyahs … and their harness breaks apart from the sudden release, as they scramble off, one to one side, the other tumbling into a bank of snow.

The carriage, meanwhile, rolls forward, the incomplete harness falling down and skidding against the packed snow on the treacherous road.

The hairpin turn looms ever closer…

Willow thrusts her hand towards the Kavi. "Come on!"

The Kavi looks up, fear evident in his eyes, and fumbles for Willow's hand. A blanket still wrapped about his midsection snares on the broken harness … but tears free. He grabs Willow's hand. "GOTTAGOGOTTAGOGOTTAGOGONOW!"

The Skreek pulls on the Kavi's arm as she makes a leap for the side of the carriage. ( Pleeeeeease let me hit a snowbank. Pleasepleaseplease! )

The Kavi and rat go rolling and … well, what do you know? A snowbank. Fortunately, there are plenty of those on this side of the road.

The carriage, however, doesn't get it so lucky. As the broken harness hits the ground, the carriage jolts, lifts up on its side, falls over, then skids the rest of the way … and dips over the edge of the hairpin curve. Sounds of snapping tree limbs, cracking wood and general cacophony follow.

Willow rolls into a ball; she doesn't want to watch the carriage fly into the valley. She just listens to the noises of it crashing down, and curses quietly to herself.

The sounds die down at last … and Willow can hear the sounds of quickly padding footsteps … then a foot slipping on the snow … then the sound of someone falling in the snow.

Sighing, the Skreek pulls her face out of the snow and looks around her. "Everyone all right?"

Burr pulls himself up from where he fell face-first in the snow after apparently taking the unwise choice of trying to dash across the slick road toward Willow. He wipes off a white face. Testament-Blaze and Copy knock snow off of each other, or at least try to.

The Kavi chitters, "SorrysorrysorrysorryOHMYN'GYAHS!" He immediately gets up and scurries over to where one of his beasts is struggling in the snow.

"Well, nobody appears to be horribly hurt." Willow pulls herself up and brushes snow off of her clothing. She stoops down to fish out her Chronotopian hat from the snow and clumsily places it back on her head. "We should probably see what we can salvage from the carriage and then try to get a ride to Olympia in the town. Everyone up for a walk?"

Copy says, "I am in one piece, Mademoiselle! And the helmeted one as well!"

Burr just nods.

The Kavi pants, then says, "Wecanloadupwhatwecanonthen'gyahs,thenmaybegetsomehelptogobackandfetchtherestoncewegetdowntothetown… "

The Skreek gives herself one final shake and then walks over to help the Kavi with his animal. "Sounds like a plan. Stupid scruddy luck, I should have expected it out here."

The n'gyah doesn't appear to be hurt … just scared out of what little wits it has. With a bit of urging, it gets back up. Taking the way carefully, and not having the weight of a carriage behind it, the n'gyah does a much better job of navigating the slick road.

Willow shoves her hands in her pockets to keep them warm as she slowly makes her way down the slope. She looks back to the priest. "I suppose this is my punishment for not dumping the yorspice, right?"

Testament-Blaze signs, "The road would be slippery regardless."

"Just checking." She doesn't sound all that convinced.

The slope is indeed that – a slope, not a sheer drop-off. But it's still pretty steep. Of course, it probably looks steeper from here than it does from below. The mountains tend to do that. The wagon lies in pieces. There's also some other debris half-buried in the snow. It looks like this wagon wasn't the first to fall prey to this particular turn.

Further evidence is in the form of a broken wooden fence at the edge of the hairpin turn. Not that it would have stopped the carriage anyway.

Willow kneels down in the debris. "Let's get to scrounging, everyone. We need to hurry before our fingers go numb."

Some time later, the travelers make their way down the remainder of the mountain slope road, with what they could salvage from the carriage slung over the backs of the n'gyahs, or over Burr's back.

Almost anything that could break broke. Anything what could spill spilled. And just about everything stinks of what spilled on it.

At last, the tired travelers make it into the village.

It looks much like the village in Cobalt, really, only made for taller people – felines, that is. It's not particularly fancy. Maybe "village" doesn't do it justice – town, perhaps – but it's no bustling metropolis, either.

Willow's toes have long since gone numb as she walks alongside the n'gyahs into the Village of Dack. "We probably smell like we just got back from a party at Prince Kiri's. I really hope we can find an inn and wash off. At least shekels are hard to break."

There are the standard stores along the way … and what looks like an inn. A sign out at the front reads, "The Last Resort".

The Skreek jerks her head in the direction of the inn. "C'mon. I get the feeling that Prince Dack knows we're here and will probably come down to pay us a visit. Meanwhile I've got to get this reek washed off and something warm in my stomach."

Inside the Last Resort, it's pretty quiet. No music plays, though a few felines huddle around the fireplace, or nurse mugs of ale or hot cider. And, no, they aren't all black.

A Siamese feline bows as the group enters the door. "Welcome." Her nose wrinkles a bit, but she quickly recovers. "Staying for the night?"

"Yes. Our carriage crashed on the hill and we lost most of our supplies. I hope you have a place we can wash up." The Skreek motions to her four companions. "All of us, although we can share one or two rooms depending on the size."

The feline purrs, "Ten shekels a room a night, one bed per room. Five more for a tub, five more for hot water."

One of the Khattas by the fire, a gray tabby, hisses, "Blast it, I told you, someone was going to miss that curve again."

Willow looks through her shekel reserves, "Three rooms then, with tubs and water. Is dinner included?" She glances back at her companions. "You can double up. A lady needs some measure of privacy after all." Her ears perk at the Khatta.

Another Khatta, a dirty gold, hisses back to the gray tabby, "Well, you expect me to go up the hill to patch fences in this weather? Besides, who in their right mind would be coming here this time of year anyway?"

The Siamese nods, brushing a stray curly lock out of her eyes. "A hot meal, though if you want better than water or cheap ale, it's extra for the drinks."

The Skreek coughs. "We weren't expecting winter to hit so quickly." She nods to the Siamese. "If the boys want anything better, they can pay for it themselves. Is there any way to arrange a ride to Olympia from here?"

"Oh, easily," the Siamese answers. "Though you might get charged extra for 'hazard pay' because of the weather."

Copy smiles. "Cheap ale is just fine with me! Ah. I sense warmth. And fire!" He shuffles his way over to the fireplace.

"Lovely… so much for a profit on this trip." Willow shakes her head. "Which room is ours? I'm feeling more and more like taking a long hot bath and trying to forget things for a little while."

The Siamese puts her fingers to her mouth and lets out a shrill whistle, causing a couple of the patrons to jump. A scrawny Siamese kitten shows up. "Show them to the Blue Room, the Other Blue Room, and the Room at the End of the Hall."

The kitten nods, and pads up the stairs. "This way," he mews.

"Much obliged." Willow nods and follows after the kitten.

The upper level of the inn shows the signs of being maintained by someone who fancied himself an interior decorator and perhaps a handyman, trying to fix things up, but not doing them quite perfectly. The Blue Room and the Other Blue Room are that – blue – but it looks like the paint job was done a while ago, and care wasn't taken to trim the frames, so there are splashes on the wood here and there. The Room at the End of the Hall is just that, charitably more than a broom closet, but still large enough to hold a bathtub. "I'll get you a chamberpot, or else you can use the privy out back," the kitten mews.

The Skreek nods, grinding her teeth a little before forcing herself to relax. "So how did this inn get its name?"

The kitten mews, "Pop had a bad sense of humor."

"Where is your pop?" Willow peers into the room and sneezes.

The kitten shrugs. "No idea. Mom ran off with a carpet-bagger. And then Pop went off for 'greener pastures'. It's just me and Sis." He puffs out his chest a bit, then deflates half of it. "And Lumpy."

"Er… Lumpy?" The Skreek arches an eyebrow and digs in her pocket.

The kitten nods. "My big brother. But he's not as big as Big Sis." He scuffs his foot on the floor, then mews, "Sis is going to grab my ear for talking to the guests again. I'll go get your hot water."

"Just a moment." Willow kneels down and hands the kitten a five shekel piece. "Er… here. For helping me out. Get some water for my friends first, then see about me. I'm just going to lay down for a bit, no rush."

The kitten looks surprised. "Wow. A tip! Thank you, sir!" He quickly pads out of the room.

The room may need a bit of work to get up to most standards, but the bed is well-made, and the sheets smell clean. Best of all, there are a few blankets stacked up on a chair next to the bed.

Willow shakes her head and walks into the tiny room. She pulls off her damp boots and massages the cold out of her toes for a bit and then bundles herself up tightly in the blankets and tries to catch a wink or two of sleep.

Willow's dreams dissolve into an earthquake, which resolves itself into the sensation of a big hand shaking her shoulder. The room is dark, though there's some faint light coming in from the hallway.

The Skreek's first impulse is to make a grab for whatever it is shaking her. She reaches out and tries to grasp whatever it is out there as she blinks the sleep from her eyes.

It feels like a big furry cheetah arm, of the Burr variety.

"Oh scrub it all." She pulls herself out of bed and squints at the cheetah. "What is it, Burr?"

Once Willow finally gets her eyes open, it looks like a big furry cheetah arm, of the Burr variety, too.

Burr pantomimes putting something to his mouth and nibbling on it, then gives a querying shrug, gesturing downward.

"You're hungry?" The Skreek itches at her head. "Or are you inviting me to join the rest of you for dinner downstairs?"

Burr shakes his head, then nods.

"All right then." She yawns and stretches. "Lead the way. Hopefully they have something besides warm gruel here."

Burr leads the way downstairs, where a long wooden table has been set up. It's almost like eating dinner with a big family, except that most of the big "family" are complete strangers, and they could work on their table manners. One of the farmers is actually lapping a bowl of milk.

The Skreek peers at the window, trying to judge how long she was asleep as she nudges herself into an available slot on the bench. "So what's for dinner?"

Burr leads Willow to a plate that has a helping of some mashed potatoes, gravy, and a bit of shredded poultry on it. It looks like the platter in the middle of the table that had more poultry on it has already been picked clean. Someone must have been kind enough to see that Willow got a serving before it was all gone.

The Siamese innkeeper walks around the table, refilling cups and mugs. "You're in luck. Lumpy caught some game hens. Plus mashed potatoes, bread, and pod-peas."

A Siamese Khatta boy next to the door makes a wry grin and makes a sly salute, obviously proud of himself.

Willow rubs the last bit of sleep from her eyes as she studies the Khatta next to the door. ( He doesn't look like a Lumpy. Odd name for the poor pup. ) She salutes the Khatta before tucking into her plate. "Does the Prince come into town much?"

"The Prince?" The innkeeper smiles faintly. "I wish." She sighs. "But, no, the Family tends to keep to itself."

"That's a bit of a shame. I was planning on visiting him in the morning to try to trade what we were able to scrounge with him." The Skreek sips from her mug. "You've never met the Prince during your time here?"

"Oh, I've seen him," the lady Siamese purrs. "He's very tall. But he doesn't go out of his castle much. Though he came riding through town in his carriage about a week or so ago, coming back from the north. Good thing he didn't lose control on that hairpin turn that Heff was talking about."

The gray tabby looks up from his bowl and licks a milk mustache off of his muzzle. "Sure right. I can't imagine the Prince would be too happy with that."

Willow chuckles politely and shovels down a few more mouthfuls of potatoes. "What about their family? I just got back from Naochi lands are heard of a fellow there that the Prince referred to as 'Uncle'." She glances around to see how the rest of her companions are fairing.

Copy looks to have filled his belly sufficiently, as he grins widely and looks quite satisfied. Testament-Blaze nibbles at a portion that would starve a Skeek, looking a bit curious as he tucks bits of food underneath the cover of his helmet to his unseen mouth. Burr's plate is empty.

The Siamese frowns faintly. "'Uncle', hmm? Well … we don't talk too much about the Family here. Wouldn't want to go making rumors that might get back to reach the ears of the Family. They don't appreciate that sort of thing."

The Skreek abruptly stops eating and looks at Burr. "Have you eaten already?"

Burr nods.

The Siamese innkeeper laughs. "Has he! He eats more than a Dromodon! Say … he's awfully quiet. Is he a slave or something?"

Lumpy wanders off from the door, heading up the steps. The innkeeper calls after him, "Now, don't forget to come back and help me with the dishes!"

"Yeah. Burr's my bodyguard." Willow focuses on her plate again and idly sniffs at the air.

Nothing unusual seems to be in the air. The main room could use a little airing out, but seeing how cold it is outside, that might not be for the best after all.

The Siamese smirks. "I wouldn't want to cross him!" She looks thoughtful. "How much does it cost to have a bodyguard like that?"

"Burr cost me a couple of golds, but I bought his son as well. Didn't want to separate the two. He's a pretty good helper for a spotty, just don't ask him to use a hammer on anything." The Skreek smirks to herself and licks some gravy off her whiskers.

Burr rubs his thumb absent-mindedly.

The Siamese nods. "I hear they do a lot of that in Olympia – having slaves, that is – though most people consider it a bit backwards in these parts. But it's hard to get good help around here sometimes. Not that my brothers don't try."

"You looking to buy a slave or two?" Willow pushes her plate towards Testament-Blaze.

"Well, maybe," says the Siamese. "Though scrounging up a gold would be a bit tough." She turns away, looking thoughtful. "Let alone two."

Burr gives Willow a worried look.

"Burr isn't for sale. He's the closest thing to family I've got." The Skreek sounds somewhat defensive, but forces her tone to lighten a little. "Besides, most of the time it's cheaper to hire workers than keep a slave. You have to remember that you have to keep them clean and feed them and take care of them when they're sick. Not to mention learning handsign is useful as well."

"Hand … sign?" The Siamese looks confused.

Farmer Heff wipes his muzzle again, and chuckles. "You traveling Olympia-way?"

Willow smirks, "It's how the spotties talk." She raises her hands up, signing, "Like this… although you probably have no idea what I'm doing, I'll bet." She glances at the farmer. "That's right. After visiting the Prince, if any of our supplies survived. Otherwise we'll probably just head straight to Olympia and meet back with my ship."

Farmer Heff looks surprised. "Visiting the Prince? Nobody visits the Prince."

"I've visited Prince Diamante, Prince Cobalt, and Prince Naochi while I've been through here. Either he'll see me or boot me at his gates. No skin off my tail if he doesn't want to see me." The Skreek decides not to mention that she's met him once before.

"Why doesn't anyone visit the Prince?" Willow squeaks.

Some of the table chatter grows quiet. The Farmer looks dubious, while the innkeeper looks surprised. The Siamese girl says, "Well, they just don't. The Family likes its privacy. And that includes the Prince."

"Guess I'll get to go flying out on my tail past his gates tomorrow then." Willow shrugs. "Why do you call them 'The Family'?"

The Siamese innkeeper says, "Well, they're the royalty around here. They're the family. We don't say their name very often. It's said that if you say their name, they might hear it."

The rat picks a bit of meat from her teeth with a blunt clawtip. "Interesting to hear. Anything else that might be useful for me to know?"

"Well," says the innkeeper, "that Kavi that came with you headed off with his n'gyahs, heading west toward Silverbirch."

"If you're going to Olympia," advises the farmer, "don't get a ride with Mull. But don't tell him I said that. You're better off getting a ride with Ghast, though his wagon looks pretty bad."

"Where can I meet with Ghast?" Willow snuffs out her nose. "How long of a ride is it from here to Olympia anyhow?"

"Depends on what part you want to reach," answers Farmer Heff, counting on his whiskers. "You can get over the border overnight. But getting all the way to Parthos would take you nigh a week, I figure."

"I think I need to get to Parthos. Does Ghast work for trade?" The Skreek pats her pocket with her dwindling shekel supply.

"Sure," says Farmer Heff. "He's got a real taste for tobacco and for 'fine' wine. And he could use a new pair of shoes, I'd wager."

Willow glances at her feet. "Any chance I can meet him in the morning?"

"Best time to catch him," says the farmer. "If the weather's not too bad, he'll probably try to start off for Olympia with his load of grain."

The rat nods. "Sounds like I've got my ride then. If any of you meet up with him, tell him that there's a Skreek, two spotties, and a Gallah who are willing to give him a couple of bricks of tobacco that have been soaked in the finest Gallisian wine to give it an exotic taste. I'll try to see about the shoes as well, and if he needs a doctor's touch on anything, I'll be happy to lend my services in that direction as well." She decides that it might be best not to mention how the tobacco bricks ended up getting wine soaked in them…

Farmer Heff nods. "Well! I'll be sure and tell him that. I'm sure he'll be more than pleased to give you some space on his wagon."

"I'm grateful for the help." The Skreek glances out the window again. "Is it safe to walk around outside at night? I'd like to do some walking around before I head out, and I've already gotten some rest under my belt."

Copy gets up and stretches. "If you will pardon me, I bid you adieu and good night … and … oh? Are we going exploring, Mademoiselle Willow?"

The innkeeper says, "It should be safe, just as long as you don't get out of sight of the town. It's been getting pretty cold out there at night, and you don't look dressed to stay out there for too long."

"You can stay here, Copy. I'm just stretching my legs." The Skreek nods to Burr. "Think you're up to trying your feet in the cold again?"

Burr stands up and nods.

"Enough of my clothes survived. I can throw on a few extra layers and I should be fine. Burr, might want to wrap yourself in a blanket or something." The rat wipes her mouth off and stretches. "Thanks again for dinner, and the information."

A short while later, Willow is wearing a few layers of clothing, and Burr is bundled up as best as he can manage.

The streets are cold and dark, save for what light filters through shuttered windows.

The Skreek rubs her hands together as she studies the night sky. She looks around for the castle and tries to see how far of a walk it might be to get there.

It looks like about an hour's walk uphill, and that shouldn't be long enough to freeze out here, especially since there's no wind to speak of.

Willow nods her head. "C'mon, Burr. I at least want to see it close up. I feel like there's something to find here and I don't want to miss it because of this. Besides, I'm still trying to decide how much of an accident that cart wreck was." She digs the butt of her staff into the snow and starts towards the castle.

Burr signs, "Did Priest make crash for yorspice?"

"The priest can't do magic, Burr. I'm just wondering if his Star decided to smack me for not dumping the spice right there." She shakes her head. "Or maybe it was Dagh stirring things up again, or maybe it was an honest accident. Who can scruddy tell? Gods don't sign their name on their work, unfortunately."

Burr nods and keeps his hands still for the remainder of the walk. At last, they make it up to the outer gates of the castle grounds. The gates are closed, of course, and there is no sign of movement on the grounds.

The Skreek leans against the gates and peers around, sniffing at the air. "Anyone here? Hello?"

A light bobs up toward the gates. Willow can pick out that it is being carried by a gray Khatta in the garb of a servant.

Willow brushes some of the snow from her clothing as she tries to clean herself off. "I'm sorry for arriving so late at night. Is the Prince awake?"

"Who may I say is calling?" responds the servant, as he comes up to the door, his face oddly illuminated from below by the lantern he's carrying.

"My name is Willow-the-Wisp. Tell him that we met in Naochi city on Reckoning Day, if my name doesn't ring any bells." The Skreek swallows.

The servant says, "Miss Wisp? Ah yes." He pulls out a heavy set of keys and wrestles with the gate's lock, then pulls it open. "Welcome to Castle Dack, Miss Wisp."

One of the windows of the castle lights up, as if someone just lit a lantern.

"Thank you." Her gaze drifts towards the window. "I was passing through and I felt that it might be rude if I didn't stop and pay my respects."

The servant nods, and closes the gate behind the Skreek and Savanite. "Please walk this way." He then strolls up the drive to the front door. The courtyard looks curiously overgrown. Not even Castle Naochi looked quite this neglected from the outside.

( You'd think he didn't even care about his lands. ) Willow quirks an eyebrow as she follows behind the Khatta. She itches at her back, making a "caution" sign to the cheetah as she does.

The servant unlocks one of the front doors, then pushes the heavy door open. It doesn't feel that much warmer inside, but it's still an improvement.

"Thank you." She takes a moment to stomp some of the snow from her shoes and pass her walking staff off to the cheetah. "Is there a fire where I can dry myself off?"

"Certainly," the servant replies. They are led to another room – a smoking room, by the smell of it – where a roaring fireplace keeps the room dimly lit but quite toasty. The flickering flames cast strange shadows and reflections on the monster heads mounted on the walls.

"The Master will be with you shortly," the servant says. "Shall I bring you something warm to drink?"

"We're fine, thank you. Just need to dry out a little." Willow looks up at the mounted heads and shivers.

One of the heads seems to glance down at Willow and leer toothily. Or … maybe it was just already that way, or it was a trick of the firelight.

The servant nods. "I shall leave you, then. Please, make yourself comfortable." He gestures to the cushioned furniture set about, facing the fireplace.

The Skreek nods, scooting towards the fire and standing there for now. She motions to Burr.

Burr walks over, joining the rat.

The wind can be heard whipping past the outside wall, causing the window to rattle. It wasn't blowing earlier.

"I don't know what's going to happen now. Either we'll have a boring chat or something else will happen. I need you to watch for me, since mages can hide things with magic from me better then they could with you. If you notice something that is obviously wrong, then I need you to grab me and run. If you can't, then run and get help. Understand?" She signs over the fire, trying to make it look as though the gesture was simply to keep her hands warm.

"You can heeeear meeeeee," the wind howls. "I knowwwwww you cannnn. Get ouuuuuut. Get out whiiiile you caaaaannnn." And then the wind laughs.

Burr just watches Willow's hands, not paying any heed to the wind.

Footsteps herald the approach of someone coming down the corridor, just outside the doorway leading into the room.

The Skreek's ears flatten and she hugs herself again. "You'd think the wind had better things to do than torment a rat."

Burr gives Willow a confused look, and then glances at the doorway, as a dapper young black Khatta steps into the room.

"Ah. Miss Willow-the-Wisp. I am pleased that you came to visit," purrs Prince Sebazhan Dack.

"I hope I didn't drag you out of bed, Prince Dack. I'm leaving in the morning, but didn't feel right going through your lands without paying a visit first." She looks up at the monster heads again. "Did you bag these interesting fellows?"

The Prince shakes his head. "Oh, no, I don't have a taste for keeping trophies. I don't like the magic that's still attached to them even in death. But these were here before I was Prince, and they don't bite, so I haven't bothered taking them down."

"Magic? I take it these are from Bosch?" She eases herself down onto chair near the fire. "What type of magic?"

"Bosch, yes," replies the Prince. "And … well, Bosch magic. Wild magic. If I could pin down anything specific, I'd just throw them out and be done with it."

"Well, as long as they really don't bite, I suppose." Willow leans against an armrest, "Interesting castle you have here. When I heard that it resembled some Olympian architecture I was expecting something that looked like a cross between a stone castle and a white alabaster temple."

The prince smirks. "Well, there are a few touches here and there. Mostly in the columns you see here and there, and in the front. But it's still a Krozite castle."

Willow nods, drumming her fingers against the chair. "Interesting town you have. I was surprised to find that you didn't go down into the village as much as the other princes. Surely you don't spend all of your time in here, do you?"

The Prince sits down in another chair. "Oh, no, of course not. I get out from time to time. But I am a mage, after all. I have my experiments to tend to."

"Would it be rude of me to ask what kind of experiments you do here?" The Skreek rests her chin in her folded hand.

"Not at all," answers the Prince. "I have been perfecting a ritual of Invisibility, for one thing. And I've been fine-tuning a Shadow-Spy ritual."

The rat sits up again. "Shadow spy? Was that how you were able to find out about me in the first place?"

The Prince shrugs. "Well, it helped me find out that something was going on worth finding out about."

The Prince leans back, asking, "So … what will you be doing now? Moving on with the trading business?"

"Speaking of finding things out, I wanted to ask you a couple of questions. I don't know how much Absalom bragged to you, but maybe he told you the answer to a particular little puzzle I've come across." Willow folds her hands across her lap. "Remember the story about little baby Chiria Naochi and how she was smuggled to Himar? I found out that the woman who carried the baby was murdered before she ever reached her destination. Did Absalom ever tell you about this?" She coughs. "Yes. I've run across some bad luck, but I have enough means left to make it to Olympia and then meet up with my ship. From there, I'll be back with the trade winds again."

The black Khatta looks slightly uncomfortable. "No … Absalom didn't tell me any such thing. … Is there any way I can help you out?"

"I can take care of myself, thanks." The Skreek's eyes narrow ever so slightly. "Do you know where Absalom is these days? I mean, with Tachiri dead, he doesn't have much of a reason to avoid Kroz anymore."

"He's off in Sylvania somewhere, I think," the Khatta says. "He's got some sort of cult following now. He plays at being wiser than he really is."

Willow nods. "Did he ever tell you specifically what he thought to gain with the sacrifices he performed? I'm just worried I might find myself strapped to that stone table with a knife dangling over me one of these days."

Sebazhan says, "He sought to bring Dagh back to this world. Exactly what that had to do with what he was doing, and why he would choose to make a changeling and spare one life, I don't know."

"Maybe a baby born on Midsummer's Eve is useless for what he wanted," Willow muses.

The Prince then says, "Now … I know you can take care of yourself … but did you perchance bring anything for trade? Maybe anything interesting? Maybe there's something I might be interested in buying off you … and give you a little traveling money for the rest of your journey."

Willow shrugs. "Sorry, all I have are some broken boxes that might be fit for some odd smelling firewood, a few wine-stained sheets, some crushed bits of broken clockwork, and a bottle or two of ale that survived the crash. The herbs I saved will probably end up going into my ride's pipe for the trip to Olympia."

The Prince looks thoughtful. "Broken clockwork? It wouldn't perchance be from Chronotopia, now would it? You know, really, I might fancy seeing that. I might fancy trying to fix it myself. With a bit of help from magic, of course."

The Skreek rubs her nose. "We've a few gadgets. I know you don't go into town much, but if you could spare us a ride we'd probably be happy to trade you the whole load as salvage. We'll probably end up scrapping most of it anyways." She clacks her teeth together. "Or we could dig out all the gears and wires and such from the mess. Either that or Burr and I walk an hour back into town, another hour to get here, and another hour to return before the sun pops up."

"Oh, I'll gladly just buy the whole load off your hands," says the Prince. "And, certainly, I can give you a ride back. I could even give you a ride to Olympia, really … maybe as part of the deal."

"I'm grateful for the offer, but I've already made arrangements. Besides, the cold makes it hazardous to travel… as I've had the unfortunate luck to learn first hand." Willow smiles. ( Not to mention you look too much like Dagh for me to feel comfortable with you for a whole week. Or in a carriage supplied by you. )

The Prince nods. "Certainly. You are very resourceful. I would expect no less. But if you change your mind, don't hesitate to ask. I will see about getting you a ride back to town immediately. You are staying at the inn, I presume?" The Khatta rises from his chair.

"That's right. Only one in the… er… town." The Skreek rises up to her feet as well.

The Khatta nods, and looks to the doorway, where his gray-furred servant has conveniently appeared. "Prepare the carriage, would you?" This is answered with a quiet nod from the servant, who disappears around the corner.

The Prince looks back to Willow. "I'll be certain to give you a fair price for your cargo. Would a silver be sufficient? Or would you prefer to trade for goods instead of shekels?"

"Normally I'd ask for goods, but I think my space is going to be limited on the wagon. A silver is a bit more portable." The rat smiles again.

"Certainly. Let us go to the carriage, then," the Prince says, walking to the doorway.

Willow folds her hands behind her back and follows after the Prince. "Who is your servant, by the way? If you don't visit the town much, I'd think it might be hard to find employees, or other relations."

The Prince shrugs. "Oh, he's been with the family for quite some time." He leads Willow back to the front of the castle, where the carriage is already waiting, drawn by a couple of Drokars, standing next to a pillar, with some wooden steps leading up to the open carriage door.

"After you," says the Khatta, bowing at the waist and gesturing to the door of the carriage.

The Skreek motions for Burr to follow her and slowly steps into the carriage. "Is he your only servant? Although I suppose that if you live here alone then you probably only need one."

"Oh no, no, there are others. And I'm not living here alone. I just didn't bother waking everyone up for your visit," the Prince says.

"I see. I suppose that I figured that since you were the only Dack I met, then you were the only Dack here." Willow settles herself down and smirks. "Who else is here? I wasn't sure if you had any brothers or sisters."

The Prince nods. "Oh yes. There's my sister, plus I have a couple of cousins here, and my aunt as well. A few more come to visit from time to time. Most of my family travels quite a bit." He sits down across from Willow. "I'd love to introduce you to them sometime, really, whenever you have the time to visit at a decent hour."

Burr shifts a bit uncomfortably in the cramped interior of the carriage.

The carriage rolls toward the gates, which open and then close behind it. The Drokars then take the carriage downhill, toward the town.

Willow itches at the stripes under her eye. "Well, this won't be my last time in Kroz. I need to check up on Misty back in Diamante lands, and I think it's safe to say I have an interest in how things go in regards to Naochi." She nods her head. "I intend to come back. It may be a few years, but I'll be back."

Sebazhan nods. "I am glad to hear that. You are always welcome here."

The carriage rolls to a stop in front of the Last Resort.

Sebazhan pops the door open, and sets down the wooden block steps, then gets outside, and holds the door open for Willow and Burr.

The Skreek steps out in front of the Inn. "I'll go get the supplies. You probably want this to be quietly dealt with."

Burr steps out as well, and walks up to the door of the inn.

"Whatever you prefer," says the black Khatta. "I'll wait here." He pauses, then amends, "… inside the carriage, that is."

"You're much too agreeable, Prince Dack. You're supposed to threaten to lop my head off every so often like the other princes I've met." She winks at the Khatta and then walks back into the inn after Burr. "Back in a moment."

Burr darts over to the fireplace, warming himself briefly … then quickly heads back over to Willow.

"Grab everything we salvaged, except the tobacco bricks and… nnngh… and except the scruddy yorspice. I'll let Testy's blasted Star win this time." The Skreek shakes her head. "Anything seem amiss to you?"

Burr signs, "No carriage driver."

Willow blinks. "Burr, go get the supplies and pile them up outside." She steps backwards and peers out the window at the carriage, looking to confirm Burr's statement.

Sure enough, there doesn't appear to be any carriage driver. But then, funny, Willow can't seem to recall a carriage driver for certain back in Naochi, either. Perhaps those Drokars are really well trained.

Burr makes a couple of trips, and piles the salvaged supplies just outside the inn.

The Skreek shrugs and steps outside as well, rapping on the door to the carriage. "Um, Prince Dack? I've another question."

The carriage door pops open, as the Prince steps out. He pushes a silver shekel into Willow's hand. "Yes?"

Willow points to the top of the carriage. "How in fires does this carriage know where to go without anyone driving it?" Her fingers unconsciously close over the coin.

Sebazhan smiles. "The Drokars have been with the family for a very long time."

She gives the Khatta an odd look and then looks back to the Drokars. "You'd be the envy of every carriage driver in Gallis if they knew about these fellows." She sniffs at them curiously, wondering if they actually smell alive or like normal Drokars.

They smell alive, all right. Either that, or a really good illusion.

The Prince laughs. "You can do some pretty amazing things with magic. You know … I could probably teach you a few things, even. Maybe if you ever get tired of the trading business."

Prince Dack walks over to the pile of debris, and sorts through it, finding some of the busted clockwork pieces, which he sticks into a handkerchief. "This should keep me busy for a while. Thank you."

Willow fights back the urge to flatten her ears, remembering that brief vision she had of the carriage as a hearse pulled by two bony creatures. "I've seen a lot of what magic can do. Most of what I've seen scares me, to be honest." She shakes her head. "Besides, I wouldn't know what to do with it even if I could sling bolts of it around."

"Make sure and wash whatever you pick out. We spilled a lot in the crash," the Skreek chitters.

The Prince tucks the cloth of broken clockwork bits away in his coat, then says, "Perhaps you could protect yourself from bolts being slung about? Believe me, it's not too hard to come up with uses. But suit yourself. And I'll be careful. I'll have my servants pick up the rest. It won't be disturbed out here, don't worry." He heads back to the carriage.

Willow sticks her hands in her pockets. "A pleasure seeing you again, Prince Dack."

"The pleasure is all mine," says the black Khatta, as he slips back aboard his carriage. "Fair weather and fair travels, Miss Willow-the-Wisp." The Drokars start to pull the carriage away.

The Skreek waves after the carriage. ( I wish he wasn't so pleasant. It would make it easier for me to dislike him… which I'm sure I should, but he's just too scruddy polite. Bah. )

The next morning, a wagon drawn by a scrawny black-and-white Khatta by the name of Ghast rolls along, bearing sacks of grain, and four passengers. He happily smokes on some very pungent tobacco through his pipe. "Blankets warm enough back there? Yessirree! Fine day to be heading to Olympia! It'll warm up nice once we're down out of the mountains. And you'll love the Lake of Langour! And the ruins! Ooo-yah! And the ladies are nice, too!"

"Copy doesn't really care what his ladies look like, the two spotties have sworn off women I think, and I happen to be a lady myself… so unless they happen to do something like give me a free dinner or such, they probably won't leap to my version of 'nice'." Willow wipes some dirt from the end of her staff. The remaining bags of Yorspice had vanished that night and Willow had returned from an early morning stroll with dirt on her hands and staff. "The blankets are fine though, and thanks again for the ride." She looks sidelong at the cheetah-priest. "Make sure and tell your Star that the yorspice is gone. Maybe we'll have better luck on the rest of the ride."