It is another day of work at the Temple for the Savanite, Fire-Mane. Menial chores such as paper pushing, playing songs for her master, and whatever else can possibly be found to keep the Savanite occupied.

The slave has been called to her master's office, although the tone of this calling is slightly different. More serious, more important.

The poodle hobbles around his office in his inquisitor robes, one foot wrapped in bandages rather than in a boot. He grumbles constantly under his breath, cursing various persons who seem to constantly have some reason to cross or annoy him. "And where is that blasted cheetah of mine? It was bad enough that Rose had to 'borrow' her. Yes, of course, a gesture of goodwill, to have her hand bandaged. Bah. Just another slight, to deprive me of some assistance in my hour of need."

Leeta has run all the way to the office upon receiving the grave summons. Taking two deep breaths and trying to get her panting under control, she slides open the door and enters.

"There you are!" barks the poodle. "Well, fine, put on the act to make me think you've been working hard, but I know an act when I see it. You'll get no sympathy from me. Not after the mess you made of my office last night!"

The Savanite stands there, with her head bowed. She keeps her bandaged hand behind her back, against her mandolin case. Every accusation prompts a nodding response from the fire-haired cheetah.

Leeta doesn't try to explain that she wasn't in the temple last night, that she was sleeping in Blossom's room in the sanctuary of roses. Even if she did, and even if Inquisitor Moffat could understand her, it's likely he would just dismiss the revelation as a lie.

The poodle continues cursing some more, then pauses and leans over, coughing and hacking violently. He staggers over to the wastebasket, spitting into it, then gasping for breath afterward as he collapses in a chair, his legs wobbling beneath him and threatening to drop him before he can make it to his seat.

The Savanite runs over to Moffat's side and helps hold him up, trying to guide him into the chair.

Moffat violently shoves at the cheetah. "Get away from me! Do I look like I need any assistance to you? Back!"

Leeta steps back and hangs her head, chastized.

The poodle's eyes glare with an unreasoning hatred … an intensity which can't possibly be directed all at the cheetah.

She stands there and tries not to feel his eyes burning on her. Theres nothing she can do, she's not even sure why he suddenly seems so sick when he wasn't yesterday. Leeta keeps her head lowered, her mane hiding her eyes, but she watches her master through her hair, just in case.

The poodle fumbles around in the drawers of his desk, flinging out its contents, his hands shaking. He curses more fervently, cutting his fingers in his frenzy … and then he finds a little vial, which he pulls out and holds up to the light, in his shaking fingers. At first, he looks at it quizzically, then breaks into a wide grin, giggling to himself.

He downs the contents of the vial, his hands still shaking … but at last, the tremors calm. "Now … now … much better. Yes. I had an errand for you. I remember now."

The Savanite nods, watching her master, listening for his errand.

"Now then," begins the poodle, clearing his throat. "There is a very important person that you are going to entertain. He is currently with the Technopr – the Office of Maintenance. You are to help keep his mind … calm. You had best do a good job of it. If you don't … well … " He glares warningly at the cheetah.

Leeta stands rigidily and nods slowly, knowing full well what will happen if she fails. She tries not to imagine the possible punishments, and waits for further instructions from her master.

The Savanite's tailtip betrays her nervousness with a side to side twitch.

Moffat digs around on his desk, then finds some form and scrawls on it. He hands it over to the cheetah. "Here. A pass, so the guards won't tear you from limb to limb for disturbing the Sanctuaries of the Inner Mysteries. Don't lose it. And don't look threatening."

"Take it," the poodle says. "And then head over to the Technopriests. They'll know where you're to go. And don't forget your … your … whatever that instrument is."

She takes the pass, looking at it, then holding it carefully against her front. Leeta looks once at the door, then back at her master's desk, hoping he will understand she doesn't know the way. She doesn't know the way to most places in the temple though, and its usually a good idea to just leave and find out. Her red mane bobs as she nods to his last words, then slowly turns to walk out.

Leeta bows a final time and heads quickly through the door, towards the main concourse, her mandolin bouncing against her back, and the pass clutched tightly in her hand. Her master must be very far gone in his… hobby… to not notice she was carrying it. Her ears flick in her fire-hair, listening for the usual sounds of the technopriest's rituals.

The doorway to Moffat's office cycles shut behind the exiting Savanite.

*CLANGbzzzWHIRRclank* The sounds of the 'maintenance' at work can be plainly heard. Also seen as the lights flicker on and off further up the corridor.

The Savanite smiles and pads off in the direction of the noise. The rituals and their obvious success cannot be the cause of anyone but the Technopriests. One of them will be able to tell Leeta where to go, she hopes.

Ahead is a portly Kattha in technopriest robes. He's poking various tools into a panel in the door, and is rewarded by either a shower of sparks erupting from the panel, the flickering of the lights above, or the door next to him opening ever so slightly.

Leeta pauses; she'd rather disturb someone who was junior, or preferably a slave. She can't waste time however, and clutching the note tightly walks over to the heavy-set Kattha. She waits until he's taken a pause in his ministrations to the panel, then gives a small bark, holding the note in front of her.

Grumbling, the Kattha removes a pair of darkened spectacles sitting on his nose and squints at the note. His eyes suddenly widen. "Oh my!"

The Savanite reminds herself to take a look at this note, and see what's so special about it.

"Er… down the hall," the Kattha gestures. "Follow it past the storage chambers and then take a left. You'll know it when you reach it, all the guards."

Leeta nods, bowing to the Kattha, then sprinting off down the hall. She stops out of sight just before the storage chambers, then stares at the note. She memorizes every line and curl, and as soon as she's sure it's fixed in her mind, she continues down the hall, looking for all the guards at the left passage she needs.

The guards come into view. Heavily armored Templars Elite. They are dressed in the colors of their status, black with silver trimming. As the Savanite approaches, many of them reach for their weapons. Some of the guards are even carrying flintlocks.

The Savanite stops walking the instant the Templars Elite reach for their weapons. She kneels on the ground, crouching forward so they can see just what is strapped across her back, and holds the note out with both her hands. Leeta waits for someone to come and read it, her tail twitching nervously, and her eyes focused on the stones in front of her nose.

There is a painfully long pause. Finally one of the guards walks up… Leeta can hear the quiet 'click' of a flintlock's hammer being drawn back.

The note is pulled from the Savanite's hands. More moments pass.

The Savanite makes a small whimpering noise. {Read the note, please, read the note.}

Leeta holds her breath, wondering if she will hear the pistol firing, or if things will just go black…

"Do you have a pass?" A voice speaks, cold as steel and as grating as rock.

Looking up from under her mane, Leeta's expression is one of total confusion. The note was her pass, they've taken it. She holds her hands empty, showing them, trying to get even closer to the ground and away from the pistol.

There's another omnious *click* and then the sound of a whispering voice. The voice bellows, "Ahh… Moffat's signature. Bah, his handwriting has always been hard to read… "

Leeta tilts her head to the side, exposing her collar, in case there is any question of who owns her.

"Get up," hisses a new voice. "He awaits you. Don't dissapoint him"

Standing up quickly, the red-haired Savanite waits for the guards to move aside, and let her down the passage. Her feet twitch as she steps, a nervousness from her ordeal she hopes won't make the guards suspicious. As her mandolin thumps ominously against her back, Leeta waits to see the person who deserves such security.

The guards part noiselessly to let the Savanite through. They reveal a doorway that leads into a very dimly lit room.

The Savanite steps quietly and slowly through the doorway, waiting to see who she will be playing for, and trying to be as unthreatening as possible.

There's a soft whirring noise… the door cycles shut behind Leeta and the lights go up just a tad. Inside the room, the furnishings are elaborate. A very comfortable bed, bookcases that threaten to spill over, and a desk which sits on the opposite side of the room that Leeta currently is standing at. Sitting at the desk is a hunched-over figure; its features are obscured by the heavy robe it currently wears. The figure does not seem to have noticed the Savanite… Instead, it intently reads a huge tome set in front of it.

Leeta recognizes someone absorbed in their work; she's seen it with many of her masters. There's no reason for her to distract him from this, so she doesn't. Instead she swings her mandolin case around and sits, taking the instrument out. Flexing her bandaged hand, she hopes it won't interfere with her chording too much. Resting the instrument in her lap, she starts to pluck quietly at the strings. The music, she hopes, is light and distant.

The figure starts a bit and slowly turns to look at Leeta. "Hello." It… no… he speaks. His voice is strange sounding, like a child's.

He pulls the hood from over his face, revealing what is probably the strangest creature Leeta has ever seen. Short red hair sits atop his head… and nowhere else. The creature is hairless, and instead has strange pinkish skin. He resembles a creature that is considered a myth for the most part. A creature called… a human.

Leeta smiles, looking up, still slowly playing in her hunched position over her mandolin. Her chords are all light and slow, easily absorbed by the room, but still there.

"I am Tahir," the human speaks. "Tahir Archelaus. One of the candidates. Who are you?" It becomes apparent exactly why his voice is that of a child's… He is a child. Probably no more than seven years old.

The red-maned Savanite stares, her hands frozen on the strings. An odd timeless feeling grips her. It's only the sight of his red hair that reminds her where she is, and what she is supposed to be doing. Lifting her hand, she moves to sign her name, then realizes it is probably futile. Instead, she tugs on her her mane, her fire-mane, and hopes he realizes.

Tahir cocks his head to one side and hops from his chair. "Don't you have your speaker with you?"

Leeta shakes her head, letting her hand drop to the strings on her mandolin, which make a quiet *ping* as she does. She watches him approach, smiling in a friendly manner.

The human rubs his chin. "This," he points to the insturment. "Is this for making music?"

A scale of notes slip from the strings as an answer, and Leeta nods to the question. Hesitating for a moment, she reluctantly holds her mandolin out for the mythical human.

"Ah," Tahir mumbles. "I thought it was your speaker. I always remembered your kind to use them." He declines the proffered mandolin.

Leeta looks up at the human, { A speaker? A way for Savanites to have a voice? } She stares, her mouth open at the thought, and waves at herself with a 'feed me more' gesture and a questioning look.

The Savanite runs one claw up a mandolin string, trying to make a questionning note, one that rises on the end like words do in a sentence.

The human sighs. "They told me that things would be different now than the way I remember them." He looks back at his desk and scratches his cheek.

Leeta signs, "I use my hands to 'speak'." She signs very slowly, holding each one for a second, "You don't understand me, do you?"

Tahir just stares at Leeta… much in the way many who don't understand Savanite Sign do. He looks back to his desk, at the paper and pens that sit there. "Do you know how to write?"

Leeta puts her mandolin in the case, and stands, looking at the desk as well. She nods, making a writing gesture as if holding a pen. { But do we read the same thing? } is her thought.

The human pushes some books aside from the desk and lays several sheets of paper in their place. He gestures to the seat, indicating that the Savanite can seat herself there and use his supplies.

The cheetah feels awkward, sliding into the seat while a master stands, but she does. Taking a pen she presses it down to a piece of paper and carefully writes, 'I am Fire-Mane'. She slowly crosses out the last word and writes and writes 'Leeta' beside it. She continues, 'I was sent to entertain you. Please, you knew Savanites that could speak? How?' scribbling frantically.

Tahir reads the note. "Well, I have always known you to be mutes… but… how is it that you do not know of the speaker?" He rubs his head again, looking slightly pained. It's a very strange expression on a face so young. "This world is so strange to me now."

Leeta writes, 'I do not know, Master, we just use hand symbols to communicate with each other. It has always been like that.' She pauses, flexing her fingers, 'Is there anything you would ask of me?'

"Master?" the human says. "Such a strange term for a musician to call a child."

The Savanite lifts up her head, showing the metal band around her neck, then writing, 'I am a slave. All Savanites are either wild or slaves, Master. I have been lucky to be both.' She lets the pen trail off.

'You are very young to be so tightly guarded' Leeta writes, 'I thought I was going to see the greatest traitor of Rephidim, they were so suspicious of me.'

Tahir just stares at the paper. "I would never have thought that of all the races… "

"Traitor? No… I am the candidate!" The human smiles. "The one that came before me was killed; they fear that the same might happen to me."

Leeta writes, 'I do not know what the candidate is. I do not know why I was sent to you; my master does not know I can write.' She looks at the human, 'I am not here to hurt you.'

The human's lip curls into a smile. "I like music… It helps me study. I assume you are a musician?"

'Please,' the fire-haired Savanite writes, 'why are you so surprised to see my people slaves? It has always been this way. It is all I know.'

Leeta nods enthusiastically, then writes, 'Yes! I am a musician.'

"It has not always been that way," Tahir says. "This is the first I have been told of it. But there are many things I do not know yet. I have only recently awoken."

'Were you dreaming Savanites were free? I dream I am again sometimes.' The cheetah writes, 'It is sad you had to wake up from that. Do you want me to play so you can study? I should not waste your time like this, Master.'

The human frowns. "I am well aware of what is dream and what is reality."

Leeta nods, writing, 'I am too, the dreams are always nicer. I did not mean to be insulting. Do you want to ask me anything? I have seen a few things.'

"Dreams must be very important to a slave," Tahir says. "I am beginning to see why it was impressed upon me that I study the history of this world so intently."

'They are all we have that cannot be taken from us,' Leeta writes, 'It is just how it is. Are all these books history?'

The human picks up one of the tomes resting on the floor. "Not all. Some are about the structure of the Temple, and whatever else the Technopriests deem necessary for me to read."

The Savanite flexes her hand, putting the pen down for a second and rubbing between her thumb and forefinger. Resuming, she writes, 'I do not know anything about the inner mysteries of the Temple.'

'I wish I had one of those speakers you told me of.' Leeta writes, 'This would go so much faster. What are you a candidate for? Do you know how the other one was killed?'

"And I no not know anything except the inner mysteries of the Temple," Tahir says. "Everything I know beyond that has changed." His bright blue eyes dart over the Savanite's writings. "I will study more. Perhaps somewhere in one of the books of the temple, there is something that will tell me how to locate a speaker… or perhaps even make one."

Tahir shivers a bit. "The one that came before me was murdered. That is all I know."

Leeta clasps her hands together in a sign so obvious anyone can understand. She scribbles, 'Oh please! Thank you master!' then pauses to think, 'Do you know how long ago he was killed?'

The human leans against the desk. "Many months ago," he answers. "Before I even existed in this body."

'You look so young, but speak so old. I do not understand.' The Savanite writes, 'Do you want to sit? I am used to standing. I cannot think of anyone as important and protected as you are being murdered recently except… '

Leeta drops the pen, and it rolls along the desk and falls to the floor. She stares at the young human.

Tahir folds his arms behind his back. "I am the candidate."

The Savanite makes sign of the Star and Anchor, as she's seen so many others do, then picks up the the pen and writes, 'The Captain-Astromancer?' and shows the paper to Tahir.

The human looks at the sheet then back up at the Savanite. "If I am chosen over my two brethren… yes. I will be the next Captain-Astromancer."

Leeta scribbles quickly, 'I'm sorry! I did not realize. I have been so disrespectful, Master. I did not mean to waste your time telling you a slave's problems and dreams. I should just play so you can study, I'm sorry.'

"If such is your wish," Tahir says. "There is much I still need to catch up on. But very few ever come to talk to me."

'I can't talk to you' Leeta wiggles her ears as she continues, 'but I can write at you.' She pauses, looking at the paper, 'I will help you any way you ask Tahir. You have less freedom than I do; it should not be so.'

"I am a servant of the Temple," the human says with a grin. "Just as you are. I was created to represent the inquisitors, while my two brothers currently serve elsewhere."

'I serve the inquisitors as well, my master Arch Inquisitor Moffat sent me to you.' Leeta's ear flicks, 'Please do not tell him or anyone about this. I do not think they would approve, and I would be … disciplined.'

The Savanite writes, 'If no one knows, they will let me come back … and, I can come back even if they do not order me too.'

Tahir sighs. "That is an unusual request… but one I will honor. Just because I do not ever recall the Savanites as being slaves does not mean I am unfamiliar with the concept of slavery." He picks up one of the history books and fingers the bindings. "I will give Moffat my regards… and tell him that you performed beautifully."

"Perhaps… you could teach me the handspeak that you use. And we can speak of Sinai," the human muses. "I would appreciate the company… and the friendship."

Leeta nods! 'Yes! Yes I will. I will show you the signs, and play for you, and tell you what I know of Sinai. They did not say when I had to leave, and no one has come for me yet. I would love to stay.'

'I have to make something.' The Savanite reaches for a blank piece of paper, and concentrates, closing her eyes and seeing a piece of paper in front of her. Then she opens them and starts to write a duplicate of the note Moffat gave her.

Tahir smiles. Not the smile of an adult… but the smile of an extremely happy child. "Wonderful." He peers over at the Savanite. "What are you doing?"

Leeta writes on her original piece of paper, 'They gave me a note to come see you, but took it away. I am making another one in case I never get another. I have a very good memory for some things if I concentrate.'

"I'm sure that they'll allow you to come and see me if I ask them to," Tahir says. "I'll tell them that your music helps me remember things better."

Leeta smiles, then tears up the forgery. 'Then I will not need this. It would be very bad if I lost it. Thank you, Tahir, no master has taken as much interest in me as you have.'

The human smiles. "And nobody has ever treated me as anything more than a candidate."

Tahir looks at the book in his hand. "Verdigris wanted me to finish this book before the day is over. Would you mind playing for me while I read?"

Leeta writes quickly, 'Yes! I would love to.' Sliding out of her seat, she picks up the mandolin, and sits near to the desk. Smiling happily, she waits for Tahir to sit, then starts plucking away at the strings.

Her hand hurts, and some of the notes are still clumsy, but the music soars almost as much as her spirit does. She thinks of her new friend, and lets her mandolin say all the things she can't. She plays, and plays, and plays…