The morning after Piper's visit to the Shadow Wolves, as the Gallah sits at the bar to eat breakfast, two Zelaks file in, their chitinous feet clicking against the wooden floor,bodies matte black with thin green lines spider-webbed across their carapaces like a roadmap for some prosperous countryside. Their heads pivot from side to side as expressionless eyes scan the room, then for a moment they are still.

Piper raises his head to look curiously at the large bugs. His tongue flicks out to lap a glob of oatmeal from his nose.

The insectoids exchange clicking noises for a few moments, then advance upon the bar, flanking the Gallah. "You are Piper," the Zelak to the dog's right says to him.

Swallowing, the Gallah nods weakly. "Oui, misseurs. Can… can I be of service to you?"

"Yes. You will come with us now," the Zelak on his left informs the Gallisian.

Piper looks at his bowl of breakfast. It's still half full but suddenly he doesn't feel his stomach could handle any more weight. He slowly slides off of his stool, trying very hard not to stick his tail between his legs. "Of course, misseurs. Where are we going?"

"You will come with us to answer questions, not to ask them," the right Zelak says. Their eyes track the dog's movements. "Follow." The right Zelak advances towards the door, while the left drops to a position behind Piper.

The Gallah swallows again and starts to shuffle after the Zelak. "Oui. but if I may ask, am I being arrested?"

April emerges from the kitchen archway bearing a large stone crock of milk, and she gasps as she sees the two insects leading Piper away, clutching her crock more tightly.

The two make no answer as the forward one strides away, while the one behind Piper prods him, not unkindly, in the back to encourage the Gallah to move more swiftly.

Piper shrinks down all the more and hastens his pace. "I will be back shortly, Mam'selle April! No need to worry."

"Piper," the young Rath'ani whispers as he is escorted out the door, her eyes as big as saucers.

It soon becomes clear from their direction that the two Zelaks are escorting him, if not to the Temple itself, then at least to some place near it. It's a long walk to the Temple district from this distant section of the Bazaar, and Piper has plenty of time to think.

The Gallah fixes his eyes on the back of the Zelak and tries to walk nonchalantly. ( Perhaps I accidentally chased some vermites in the Temple sewers and I'm in trouble for poaching? Or perhaps they want to ask me more about Mam'selle Kassie, or the silver Creen? Or perhaps that Lapin fellow wasn't really allowed in those papers in the Opera house and I'm being questioned about that… ooooh. The suspense is more trouble than the interrogation. )

Eventually, they reach the Temple steps, and the insects lead him into the bowels of the mammoth structure, through a maze of corridors and endless doors, until they stop at last before an open door, positioning the dog before it.

Faith sits behind her desk, leafing through a stack of parchments covered in neat black writing, her notepad open at her elbow. At Piper's arrival, she straightens the stack and tucks it neatly into a worn leather folder, setting it to one side before she looks to the dog. "Good morning, Mr. Piper. Please have a seat." Her flat voice hints at no emotions. "Zzzzirchix, Chiskcerclickixx, thank you. You may go."

The young dog unconsciously rubs his wrists with his hands, reminding himself that he doesn't have any shackles around them just yet. "Yes Madame," he barks quietly. His tongue scrapes against the roof of his mouth as he tries to silently mimic the Inquisitrix's pronunciation of the Zelak's name.

The feline watches Piper with unblinking eyes as he takes the unoccupied chair, while the two insect guards nod their heads and depart, their feet clicking against the tiled floor.

Piper settles into the chair. "Am I in trouble, Madame Faith? Have I been arrested? Les insectes would tell me nothing on the walk."

Faith seems to consider his questions as she glances down to flip a few pages in her notepad, and lays a charcoal pencil beside the tablet. "Mr. Piper," she begins, "I am told that eight days ago, the innkeeper at your hostelry was hospitalized."

The Gallah bobs his head up and down. "That is correct, Madame. He was attacked by a Kavi gang."

"Attacked by a Kavi gang," the investigator repeats, slowly. "This would constitute a crime, would it not, Mr. Piper? Do you agree?"

Piper licks his nose, which has suddenly started to feel rather dry for some reason. "Yes, Madame."

The feline lifts her pencil for a moment, taps it against the pad, then lays it down again. "Some holidays ago, when we first met, we spoke about another crime, Mr. Piper," she says, her voice cool and calm. "Do you recall the occasion?"

The Gallah's eyes narrow in through for a moment and then widen again. "Yes, Madame. The incident when Mam'selle Kassie was pushed down the sewers, oui?"

"I am pleased to learn that your memory has not deserted you, Mr. Piper," Faith replies in dry tones. "Now, I made a request of you regarding your behavior should you be witness to any future crimes. Do you recall what that was, Mr. Piper?"

A whine escapes the Gallah's throat. "Yes, Madame. I do. I was to report such things to you if I witnessed them." He hangs his head. "I have an explanation, but I understand that it does not change the fact that I have gone back on my word."

"No," she agrees, "It does not. Would you care to tell me why you neglected to inform me of this attack?"

"The innkeeper. I asked him if I could report it to the Temple and he informed me that he wanted nothing to do with it. The crime was not against me, nor was it on my property." He chews on his lip. "I did not think it was my place to report a crime as an observer when the victim of the crime did not wish it to."

Faith steeples her fingers before her on the desk. "Do you believe that Mr. Blackrock does not consider the attack upon him a crime? Perhaps he approves of having a gang of Kavis ravaging his home and place of business, and breaking both his legs?" She delivers the words in her usual uninflected tones, as if she were discussing the price of milk or the weather.

Piper sighs, fussing with his belt to keep his hands busy. "I believe that Misseur Blackrock was scared. I make no excuses for his behavior or my own. As a guest in his business, I felt it would be improper for me to go against his wishes."

"I see. And what do you feel now, Mr. Piper?" the investigator asks.

The Gallah licks at his nose again. "I feel torn between several promises that would force me to break the others if I follow any specific one, I feel worried towards Misseur Blackrock's family, and I feel guilty… but I do not know what specifically for."

"Perhaps you should be more careful what promises you make in the future, Mr. Piper, if you find they are conflicting." The feline sighs softly. "What do you think of the Temple?"

Piper flicks his hears in thought. "I have heard many unkind things said about the Temple, Madame. Enough that I worry about crossing its path too often. I have never suffered any ill treatment from the hands of the Temple, but, like many, I credit that towards staying out of its way and not breaking any of the laws here." He rubs his chin. "Perhaps I am still too Gallisian, but I have always looked upon the Temple like the nobles in Gallis. I do not find anything evil about it, but I also do not expect it to concern itself too much with the goings-on of those of us that work near Darkside or do not have pure blood running through our veins." He speaks the last bit with a casual tone. He doesn't sound particularly bothered or offended by this perceived attitude at the least.

"I see." The investigator takes some time to consider Piper's response, twitching her whiskers as she thinks. "Whether you have 'pure' blood or not, the activities of all Rephidim's people are the concern of the Temple, Mr. Piper. More importantly, the wellbeing of Rephidim's people." For once, she speaks emphatically, the contrast sharp with her earlier monotone. "The Temple rules this city, and having its citizens maiming one another and wantonly destroying property is scarcely conducive to peaceful dominion. Yes, you matter to us. Rich or poor."

She adds softly, "And oftentimes I think that if I could convince you all of this, I would have half my battle won."

The Gallah scratches at his ear again. "Why concern yourself with the lowers, Madame? We usually take care of ourselves and keep to our own little parts of the town that the highers do not wish to live in. Most of us are much more trouble than we are worth, and a great many of those do not care for the Temple to begin with. It confuses me why you feel that we matter?"

"You take care of yourselves, Mr. Piper? The way the Bloodkings took care of Mr. Blackrock?" the Khatta asks.

"It is not a perfect system, Madame. But I do not see why the concerns of one inn, however dear the family that runs it is to me, would also be the concerns of the Temple. It does not room any guards or students of it. Some might even say that Rephidim might be better without it." Piper shakes his head. "I sound insulting and I do not wish to. I suppose my question should be what benefit do you get from aiding the Black Rock? Why spend your time there where there are other more glorious things to do and better people to help?"

"Mr. Piper, where do you think wealth comes from?" Faith asks.

"From your name," the Gallah answers almost instantly. "Or from your family."

The feline smiles. "Names don't create wealth, Mr. Piper. They just own it – control it. Who do you think creates wealth? Who makes the buildings and plants the crops and cooks the food and fashions the jewelry and sews the clothing and even keeps out the vermites, Mr. Piper – so that the nobles may enjoy their wealth?"

"The lower classes do, Madame. But they are not wealthy." Piper licks his nose again. "It is the upper classes that manage things… and if a lower falls, another will quickly appear to take their place. That is part of what confuses me about this." He doesn't look confused as much as conflicted.

"Will they, Mr. Piper? If Mr. Blackrock closes his inn, will someone else rush to replace him, knowing he'll have to face the Bloodkings, too?" The feline watches the Gallisian with steady eyes. "Yes, the lords and ladies and powerful people manage things. But they still need people to manage. And we believe that intact people perform their duties better than broken ones."

The Gallah taps his feet on the floor as he mulls this over in his mind. "If I may ask, Madame – why are so many people afraid of the Temple or hesitant to ask it for help like Misseur Durog?"

Faith lowers her eyes to look at the scarred desktop before her. "Is it the Temple Mr. Blackrock fears? Or the Bloodkings?"

"I do not know, Madame. Perhaps a little of both?" The dog runs his fingertip over the joined bits of bamboo that make up his playing pipes. "The people seem the same as in Gallis. I always just assumed that if there were some similarities then there must also be others… at least in the places that I had no personal experience with. There are so many poodles in the Temple after all."

"I'm sure there are many similarities, Mr. Piper. But not in everything. Mr. Blackrock knows better than I his reasons for not wanting to report the attack to the Temple, and perhaps I will even learn them when I ask him. Perhaps. Truth is a hard thing to find." Faith jots a note down on her pad.

Piper whimpers. "I hope Misseur Durog does not get angry with me about this."

"As do I. I doubt he will, however." Her pencil stills and she returns her regard to the Gallah. "Tell me about the attack."

"I was not present when it occurred, Madame. When I came in after my evening errands, I found the place to be in shambles with only Mam'selle April inside to clean things up. She informed me that Misseur Durog had been injured and I took her to Roho's Hospital to have her checked as well." He squints his eyes in thought. "I believe that Misseur had said that they had come in earlier asking him for money, and when he refused to pay it, they returned later and caused the damage that they did."

Faith listens attentively, her eyes fixed on Piper while she jots a few more notes down. "Has Mr. Blackrock or anyone else taken actions to forestall a future attack, that you are aware of, Mr. Piper?"

Piper's head drops. He takes in a deep breath as he tries to decide how to answer that question. Finally, "Yes, Madame. I have taken actions."

The whiskers over Faith's right eye lift in a querying motion. "And these actions would be… ?" she prompts.

Piper barks, "I am hesitant to say, Madame, as it would break another promise I have made. But I also feel that I owe you as much for my earlier dishonesty." He takes in another breath. "Once Misseur Durog turned down the idea of the Temple, I offered him an alternative which he reluctantly agreed to in its place. I went to Misseur Torn-Ear of the Shadow Wolves and asked him to offer protection to the Blackrock from the Blood Kings."

Faith's whiskers twitch. "You went to the Shadow Wolves to ask for protection from the Bloodkings?" she repeats, enunciating the words slowly as if to make no mistake about them.

"Yes, Madame." The Gallah swallows. "I know that they are considered to be nothing more than another gang, but they have always been kind to me and have been given no cause to distrust them. Misseur Torn-Ear has a temper that worries me from time to time, but whenever he realizes that he has frightened me or hurt someone he has always been quick to make amends."

"… has a temper that worries you… ," the inspector murmurs, shaking her head. "Did you ask the fox to guard the hen house while you were at it?"

"Pardon je, Madame?" Piper tilts his head to the side until the meaning of the comment slowly sinks in. "As I have said before, he has given me no cause to distrust him and has been very kind to me. I might even be homeless now had he not found work for me during the slow season."

Faith frowns. "What work did he find you?"

The Gallah sits up, noticing that he's slowly been sinking down in his chair. "The first was at a market in Little Babel called 'Eeeat up'. I cleared away the Creens that were invading their bug supply and then emptied a tower of the rest of the Creens that were nesting there. After that, the owner was pleased enough with my work that I received many recommendations that carried me through the best weeks of business I have had in my career."

The inspector wrinkles her nose, but doesn't seem to be able to find fault with this story. "I see." She writes a few lines in her pad, then asks, "So. Did the Shadow Wolves agree to take on the Bloodkings for your Mr. Blackrock?" Her voice has returned to its customary cool, professional tone.

"Specifically I asked them to protect Misseur Durog's business, but I do not know how they intend to do this," Piper replies.

"But Mr. Torn-Ear, he said that he would do it?" Faith presses.

The Gallah nods. "Yes. Originally he wished to do it in exchange for me capturing Misseur Argent, a silver Creen. But when I expressed my concerns about it, he told me that it was not necessary for me to do so to gain his help." His tail unconsciously wags.

Another frown crosses the feline's face. "So what are you doing for him in return, then?" she queries, still taking notes.

"I do not know, Madame." He swallows, feeling a bit uneasy about it for the first time. "It is my hope that as they have never asked me to do anything illegal during my time with them that they will not ask me to do any such thing now."

"Your hope. Do you think that they might ask you to do something illegal, Mr. Piper? Have they engaged in illegal activities in the past, to your knowledge?" Her eyes remain on the Gallah, studying him.

Piper's tail stops wagging. "I do not know, Madame. It seems I do not know a great many things."

Her pencil stops moving. "Me too, Mr. Piper. Me too."