Trying to find a bow and arrows is not simple among Amazonians, as Tasha learns. The only ranged weapons available in the Kerebos Villa are slings and spears. Checking the farms along the road back to the city only yields small bows with simple sharpened wood arrows for use against vermin and other garden marauders. It becomes clear that a weapons-grade bow with useful arrows may not be readily available.

The search has, at least, given Tasha and Eadwig more time to get used to each other and improve Tasha's riding skills. But as evening set and the search turned up yet another 'toy' bow, the pair decided to bed down for the night in an offered barn, sleeping in the hay. Morning finds Tasha hungry and realizing she's supposed to be at the Temple of Abaddon for her final session with the mystery monk.

Tasha's eyes snap open. She has to be somewhere … somewhere soon and she's … "Oi, where am I?" She glances at the hay, has a sudden flashback, then shakes her head. "Nothin' like tha' … " It was a good memory, but she remembers where she is and who she needs to meet quickly. "'Ey, Eadwig!"

With a whurf, a huge amount of hay is displaced as the Vykarin stands up and shakes himself free of the rest. He blinks a bit, then lets out a bellowing yawn.

Tasha reaches over and rubs Eadwig's chest a bit, before standing up herself. She dusts the hay off, then peers outside to see what time of day it is. "Oi, I 'ope I'm no' late. Some leader tha'd be," she remarks.

"Growf?" Eadwig asks, scratching behind one ear and bouncing up and down on his legs.

"Well it's still mornin', tha's good." Tasha turns around and walks over to Eadwig, then kneels down to look him in the eye. "We better get goin' – no time to say good-bye. Are you up for a run through the city?"

Clicks and pops rattle out of the Vykarin, but the bobbing head and lowering shoulders say it all, really, as Eadwig waits for Tasha to climb onto his shell.

"I'm goin' to learn Vykarin. You wan' to teach me? I got a bit o' it, bu' I still can' un'erstand wha' you're sayin'," the Vartan says as she climbs on. Once she has a firm hand-hold, she lowers herself against the Vykarin's back and gets reasonable comfortable. "Well, le's be off then! click pop!"

Eadwig replies with a series of clicks that might mean 'hang on', since he immediately launches out of the barn, bounding back towards the road and leaving a trail of fluttering hay behind them.

"Wheeee," Tasha cries. She considers howling, but she decides it's best not to inspire hordes of Vykarins to chase her in to the city. "I never get tired o' this, Eadwig! Flyin's one thing, bu' I'm never this fast!"

The Vykarin seems to only have two speeds: full out and stop. It makes steering a real challenge, especially once they enter the city of Dianus itself. The result is a zig-zagging course leaving behind only minor destruction before Eadwig staggers to a stop in front of the Temple of Abaddon, and immediately begins drinking from the reflecting pool.

Perhaps it's no surprise, then, that Tasha likes Eadwig. In personality and action, they are much the same. She pats her mount's head and eyes the pool a moment. Guess it's okay, this is official business an' all, an', o'course, this is a much better use o' water. She hopes that's true, anyway, as she turns and heads for the temple. "I'm goin' inside, Eadwig! I'll be out in a bit!" The Vartan waves, but doesn't expect the Vykarin to stop eating for her. Tasha rarely stops eating for Layth, after all – another thing she has in common with the Vykarin.

Once inside, Tasha is met by an acolyte, who actually reaches up to pluck a few stray straws of hay from the half-Vartan's hair before leading her to yet another small room. At least this time, there isn't any cloying incense smoking up the place.

"Please wait here," the acolyte instructs, then wanders off.

"I guess I'm early," Tasha tells the room. "Eadwig's faster than I thought. I ought 'an braid 'is 'air or something – maybe add some shinies to 'is tail."

"He would only try to eat them," whispers the by now familiar voice of Tasha's interviewer, sitting across from her in plain sight now. Apparently he or she must have arrived while Tasha was glancing in another direction.

"'Ow do you know … " Tasha just shakes her head, letting it go. She does, however, file that piece of information for later. "I bet 'e would. Anyway, I'm 'ere! Don' mind the 'ay." The woman drops down, sitting cross legged across from the monk.

"Have you thought upon the question I last gave you?" the figure asks.

"I 'ave," Tasha answers with a nod.

"Who am I, then?" the monk asks.

Before she answers, Tasha sniffs the air. The lack of incense might give her one final clue; just trying may be part of the test.

The room smells of hay still.

Tasha stifles a sigh – it never is that easy, is it. "Alrigh', 'ere's me guess, in the order I though 'o 'em: my first guess is tha' you are Abaddon. Why? 'Cause you're always sayin' things abou' the gods, like you know. You're in an' out 'o 'ere like mist in the mornin'. 'Sides tha', I can' smell you! It's like you're tryin' to cover your scent, maybe 'as a test, or maybe because you don' 'ave a scent! Like, a vision. Maybe you're jus' in me 'ead, like the vision. An another thing: your blessin', no one ever 'eard o' it before. It sounds right to me, bu' maybe old, or wha's that word … obscure. An', you're wise. You know things, like Eadwig, an' other bits, stuff tha's not common to know." Tasha nods after she's done, proud of her reasons. "Bu', I'm no' so sure it's true: you said "we serve the Virtue Nike," an' would Abaddon serve Nike?"

"Does victory serve battle, or battle serve victory?" the figure asks right back in reply.

Tasha tilts her head at that. "A bi' o' both, isn' it? People fight battles for victories, right? Bu' sometimes, a victory makes one fight more battles. Like, if you're good at fightin' in the pits, you might jus' keep at it. If you lose a battle, sometimes you give up, an' sometimes you die. Either way, fight's over. Victory serves battle and battles serves victory," the woman answers.

"A good answer. You still have two more names you may put to me," whispers the figure.

"Can I ask a question?" Tasha asks. Then, after flicking her ears, she adds, "'Sides tha' one."

"You may ask," the figure says. "I may or may not answer though."

"Fair 'nuff. Are you definitely someone I know? 'Cause one o' me answers is: you're no one I've met outside 'ere. You're no voice I know, no scent I can catch, an' no one knows tha' blessin' I asked." Tasha grins a bit. "You migh' even be blind – you said I resemble a Her, bu' you said someone told you. You could jus' look for yourself, unless you're blind, or can't seen me some'ow else. I don' know any blind folk 'ere."

"I will answer that," the cloaked form says. "Yes and no. You know me, but you do not know me."

"Is tha' like when I said I wan'ed to follow Abaddon, then the 'Igh Priestess tol' me I didn' know wha' I was talkin' abou'? Or is tha' like … like you're wearin' a disguise an' bein' literal, like." Tasha runs a hand back through her hair, thinking this line of thought rather hurts her brain.

"All will become clear in time," the figure promises. "Was that really your second guess, that I am a stranger?"

Tasha inclines her head. "It was." Tasha coughs, shaking her head. "I mean, it is. I won' lie. I thought it might be a test, aye? You'd try an' trick me in to thinkin' I jus' 'ave to know who you are. I'd wrack me brain comparin' you to everyone, bu' you've done all you can to 'ide who you are from me. I've looked in to clues, an' unless I missed somethin', some angle at it, there's no' much there. Aye, I though it'd be a test. A test to see if I could admit to not knowin'." Tasha's tail wags a bit, and she tilts her head to the other side. "It's like 'ow Layth finally decided to believe in me: 'e said 'e'd follow me, 'cause I said I din' know. It was me thinkin' I knew it all, what bothered 'im."

"A leader always has doubts, and must compensate for what it isn't known," the figure replies. "It is the acceptance of responsibility for those unknowns that is key."

"Well, I accept I don' know. I don' really know 'o you are. I 'ave suspicions, bu' I don' know," Tasha says. "Bu' I'll guess, 'cause tha's me task."

"When faced with the unknown, you must do what you can," the figure says.

"Aye, an' I'm doin' the best I can," Tasha agrees. "Did I tell you I 'ave mounts, an' Warriors, an' Guardians? I'm almos' set to go."

"Do you have confidence?" the figure asks.

"Yes! Layth believes in, Aaron won' give up on me, Eadwig fought for me. With friends like 'em, 'ow can I no' be confident?" Tasha smiles, revealing her rows and rows of teeth. "I may no' answer you righ', bu' I feel good abou' my answers. I trus' me companions, an' I know I'll find a way."

"You may find yourself, at some point, alone," the figure points out. "Without the support of others, will your confidence waver?"

"I came 'ere alone, didn' I? I made this choice of me own free will. 'Ow can I fail, when I 'ave someone strong like me to rely on?" Although it sounds like a jest at her own expense, Tasha's tone hints that she believes it. Her voice is a mix of sarcasm and confidence, as if she were uncomfortable admitting her own strength. Perhaps it's not perfect confidence, but she seems to believe some of it. "An', I'm alone 'ere. You're kind 'o scary, in your own way, an' I never liked tests."

"Ah, yes, the test," the figure says. "What is your final guess to my identity?"

"Well, those were my good guesses," Tasha admits. "My third is only reachin': you're the 'Igh Prietess in disguise. Why? 'Cause o' wha' you know. You know abou' the gods – you said you met Abaddon an' knew 'im – an' you know abou' me. You 'ave eyes an' ears everywhere, an' we 'ave met before, bu' I barely got a chance to know you. Also, you used tha' unusual blessin', which makes me think you've been aroun' a while. You knew to distract me with tha' shiny charm, an' only a few people know me for a Vartan an' not some odd Lapi. Your wisdom makes my 'ead 'urt, as it did before, but I believe it, for I think it's real wisdom. It wouln' be a lie for you to say someone told you I look like a Herald; you'd 'ave 'eard tha' before we met, after all. The 'Igh Priestess would know who the Temple really serves, too, aye?"

"Sound reasoning," the figure says, the cowl nodding a bit. "Your two named choices cover both the supernatural and mundane explanations for what you have seen. There is only one other possibility which you have overlooked."

Tasha tilts her head at that. Natural, supernatural, and … Wha's beyond natural an' supernatural? Tasha always thought that was the all of things. You have your natural, and your supernatual, and between those the whole lot of creation. "You're no' … me are you?"

The gloved hands rise up and take hold of the edges of the cowl. Pulling back slowly, the first reveal the red furred muzzle, then the familiar face and blond hair. There are perhaps a few more years on the face than Tasha sees in the mirror, though. "Very good," the woman says, also in a familiar voice.

"AHH," Tasha exclaims, leaning back so quickly she almost falls over backwards. She catches herself with a hand, though, holding herself up even as she stares at herself. "Oi, I was' jus' … well, you know … I mean … I, you … we? … know … " The Vartan's ears flatten.

"Call me Tisiphone," the duplicate says, grinning slightly.

"OH," the younger woman exclaims, the whole situation setting in. "Oh! I was thinkin' tha' migh' be … Oi, nevermind." She grins nervously, almost mirroring her own mirror. Pushing herself forward, Tasha regains her seating, then she leans forward. "I – you – look pretty good! Well tha's a relief."

"Well, that is all I needed to see you about," Tisiphone says. "The temple will see to starting your normal education next."

"Wai', you're leavin' me already?!" Tasha straights, ears perking. "Bu' we jus' met! I mean, no' really, if you're me, bu', I mean there's so much I wan' to ask you – me? – an' … " Her grin sliding in to a frown, Tasha holds out her hands as to say, 'what can I do?' "I don' really un'erstand, an' yet I feel like I do, a bit. I guess you never leave me … because you are me? Then I'm you, an' tha' makes me Tisiphone, too."

"You may become me," Tisiphone says, raising her cloak again. "Or, perhaps, you were already me once before. But right now, you are you, as well as what you make yourself."

Maybe become me? Tisiphone? Or I was … before? Tasha's ears splay, but she nods slowly. It all doesn't make perfect sense to her, but she gets the impression she's not supposed to understand it all right now, anyway. At least she's sure of that last part. "I'll try an' make you proud," Tasha promises, quietly.

"There is one thing you can do for me," Tisiphone notes, and points up towards the ceiling.

Tasha suddenly looks suspicious, asking, "Are you tryin' to make me look away so you can vanish on me again?"

"Is that too much to ask?" the other woman asks.

"No," Tasha answers, sounding a little guilty. "I jus' didn' wan' to be tricked. See? I learn." Grinning, Tasha lifts a hand and waves to Tisiphone, saying, "I'll be seein' you," before she looks up.

Of course, the room is empty when Tasha looks back down. An acolyte pokes his head through the doorway and asks, "Are you finished meditating now?"

"Aye," Tasha answers as she stands. Turning around, she walks over to the acolyte and pats his shoulder. "I can walk meself out, you don' need to worry abou' me."

"Should I have been worried before?" the boy asks. "And… is that your Vykarin outside? He's been chasing some of the other acolytes that are trying to clean up the mess around the reflecting pool."

"Jus' a, wha's the thought, 'figure o' speech.'" Tasha pats the acolyte again, then tucks her arms behind her back as she stretches. "Tha'd be 'im. 'E likes to chase things. Jus' don' stand behind 'im."

"You are taking him with you then?" the boy asks, walking alongside Tasha towards the front of the temple.

"Aye, 'is name is Eadwig. 'E's lucky in battle, an' e's fast as the wind," the Vartan answers proudly, "An' tha' reminds me: do we 'ave any bows an' arrows aroun' 'ere? Good ones?"

"What do you mean by good?" the acolyte asks.

Tasha has to think about the question a moment, as she rather assumed the acolyte would know what she ment. "Somethin' I could use in a fight, tha' isn't sharpened sticks an' some weak animal gut. A quality bow," she replies after a moment.

"In a fight?" the boy asks, looking confused. "A bow and arrow? Do you mean, against a Warrior or Guardian?"

"Rrr … Both," Tasha answers. "Don' you all 'ave bows aroun' 'ere? Oi, jus' show me, I'll pick one or somethin'."

The acolyte stands still for some time, then asks, "Really, you want a bow to fight a Warrior with?"

"I'm a 'Erald, I do mysterious things," Tasha insists.

"Follow me," the boy says, shrugging. He leads Tasha deeper into the temple, and collects an oil lamp to light the way. Behind a heavy wooden door, he shows Tasha what must have once been an armory, but is now more like a museum for siege engines. He points her to a mounted two-man ballista. "How about that?"

Tasha blinks at the siege engine – she'd have trouble carrying that even with Layth's help! "Oi, it's a bit big … " Shaking her head, she peers around the odd room for something more serviceable.

In one corner of the room, a bunch of ancient, unstrung crossbows lay in a heap.

Tasha wander among the weapons, thinking some of them could crush her, others are probably older than she can count to, and a few she hasn't any idea as to their function. When she reaches the crossbows, she kneels down and peers at them. "Crossbows," she announces, surprised. Amazonia barely seems able to make a workable bow – she didn't expect to find something as complicated as a crossbow. "You think these work?"

"They're very old," the acolyte says. "And won't do what you want anyway."

"They won' shoot quarrels?" Tasha asks, looking up at the acolyte. 'Ow can it be this 'ard to find a bow? The Vartan never expected to meet a culture that didn't have bows – she thought they just existed everywhere.

"Oh, they might do that," the boy replies. "Just not hurt a Warrior."

"A Warrior won' stop to a quarrel?" These Warriors are tougher than I though – or 'e jus' thinks they are. "The crossbows back on Rephi- … rrr, I mean, some crossbows I've seen can go through chiti- … armor."

"That one fires bolts that will stop a Warrior," the boy notes, pointing back to the siege engine.

"Do I look like I can lift tha'?" Tasha turns around, then deliberately walks over to the siege device and stands next to it, to indicate their relative size. "'Ow much does this thing even weigh?" Curious, she tries to lift it, trying to avoid crushing herself.

One of the bow arms creaks ominously as Tasha tries to lift it. It's heavy, and also possibly fragile from age and lack of maintenance.

"Rrr, I'll jus' leave this 'ere … " Tasha quickly steps away from the device, scooting back over to the crossbows. "Oi, so nothin' like … " she makes a bow shape with her arms, " … like this? A 'Unting bow? Big, like me, takes a good draw?"

"I don't understand," the boy says. "You would need to fire more than once with something like that."

"Can anyone aroun' 'ere make bows, then? I guess I'll take one 'o these, jus' to explain it. Maybe draw it or … " she glances at the siege bow, " … somethin'. Oi."

As the acolyte moves closer to the old ballista, another feature is exposed to the light. There's a suit of armor pinned to one of the support posts by a javelin.

"'Ey, what 'appened there?" Tasha asks, pointing at the impaled suit of armor. Who could impale a suit o' armor with a spear?

"That's what I meant," the boy explains. "You only get one shot."

"Oh, I get it now." Tasha laughs nervously. "Well, tha's why I need a longbow. So I can fire before they can see me!"

"They'd still hear you," the boy points out.

"So should I jus' use me fists?" Tasha asks, sounding a little annoyed now. "I don' wan' to fight, no' if I can avoid it. Bu', I need a weapon I know, an' a whip's no' goin' to cut it out there. At leas' with a bow I can 'unt some game."

"If you wish to avoid a fight, why not use your wings?" the boy asks, stating the obvious.

"Then me companions would be left alone," Tasha answers soberly.

The acolyte doesn't seem to have a reply to that, so instead asks, "What is a whip?"

"It's a bit o' leather wound tight an' such, then cured, so it's flexible. When you pull it back," Tasha pulls her arm back, "then crack it forward," she swings her arm forward, "it makes a snap. S'not really a weapon, bu' it 'urts."

"Can you show me?" the boy asks, his lop ears perking up slightly.

"Oi, I don' 'ave one anymore. I turned it over to the Oracle," Tasha admits. She looks around, though, trying to find a whip or something whip-like she can demonstrate with.

"Oh, do you want it back then?" the boy asks.

"I can 'ave it back?" Tasha blinks at that. She had thought it was something she had to give up for good.

"We can check the holding closet," the acolyte says, and starts for the door, lamp swinging from one hand.

"I'll wait 'ere. I wan; to look aroun'," Tasha tells the acolyte. After the boy leaves, she turns around looks at all the ancient weapons. "I wonder if these are Olympian, like Aaron said this place used to be?" She peers at the old armor, trying not to think about who wore it last.

It seems a bit small for Amazonian armor, and there are still a few ribs stuck inside of it. With the lamp walking off, it's hard to tell more.

"Maybe an Olympian, or one of the smaller Lapi … " Tasha muses. She taps the armor with a finger, curious as to what it's made of.

The armor has the same feel of bronze as Amazonian armor, although perhaps not as heavy.

The javelin itself appears to be hardened wood, at least for the body. The tip is inaccessible. The force behind would certainly have been impressive, but then again Warriors fight from the backs of Vykarins, which would add quite a bit of inertia when charging.

"Reminds me o' the trainin' I saw at Aaron's place. All tha' fightin' on Vykarin back … " Tasha is reminded of how she has never been in a real fight. Not something like this, where people are impaled by javelins and mounted warriors charge in to battle. The worst she's seen is pirate, and even then the rest of the crew did most of the fighting. She just kept the ship going, or else fired Captain Eyeshine's bow from a safe position. "So, wha' else is 'ere … " She peers around the room, looking at the artifacts.

There are many broken or battered shields piled in another corner. Random bits of armor and miscellaneous weapons are also just piled up. There is however one rack of decent swords more along the lines of what Tasha might be used to, instead of the giant broadswords used by Warriors. There are plenty of spears and pikes and javelins as well.

Feeling good about her day, Tasha decides to amuse herself by picking up one of the sword. All her life, Tasha has never he;d a sword. Captain Eyeshine said she'd kill someone – or herself – and never let her near one, and her mother agreed! She holds the sword uncertainly, wondering how those Guards make it look so easy. "Poke, stab, parry … slice … Poke." She waves the sword as she says the words, imagining herself fighting pirates.

The light begins to increase, as the acolyte returns carrying a sack in one hand and the lamp in the other.

Tasha quickly hides the sword behind her back, lamely trying to cover what she had been doing. "Oi, rrr, you're back!" She smiles nervously – and toothily – before covering it quickly.

"Are you all right?" the boy asks, pausing in the doorway. Maybe he caught the flash of teeth.

"I was jus' … lookin' … at this sword!" Tasha pulls it out from behind her back, then grins a little. "Good catch 'o that – sharp eyes."

The boy's nose wiggles furiously, and then he holds out the sack. "Here. This is the only leather thing I found."

Tasha puts the sword up, then walks forward. After taking the bag she opens it and peers inside. "Wha's this?"

Inside the sack is, indeed, Tasha's whip. It doesn't look damaged from whatever it is they used it for.

"'Ey! It is me whip!" Tasha pulls the whip out, then kisses it. "I thought I 'ad to give it up for good! S'pose not, though. Cap'n Eyeshine'd be furious." She lets the tool uncoil, then waves the boy back. "Might wan' an' cover your ears."

The acolyte retreats behind the door and covers one ear, since he still holds the lamp, while peeking around the edge.

After making sure she has room, Tasha pulls her whip-wielding arm back before bringing it forward quickly. A resounding SNAP follows, the energy of the whip expelled at its end. In such a tight space, the sound echoes, making the snap more like a boom.

"Aeeeee!" the acolyte screams, dropping the lamp to clutch at his other ear, and nearly dropping to his knees!

Tasha's own ears perk up when the boy screams, and she looks at him oddly. "Oi, it's no' tha' lou-" Then she blinks, the power of the whip sinking in: it's not loud to her. To the Lapi, with their immense hearing, it must be deafening. Perhaps she found her secret weapon, after all. After staring a bit, Tasha walks over and picks up the lantern, then pats the boy's head awkwardly. "I did warn ya."

"You said it would make a 'crack' sound," the boy says, nearly weeping. "Not a thunder clap!"

"Well, I … " She reaches over and rubs the boy's ears, massaging his head. "Sorry abou' tha'. S'me fault."

"Will it spit lightning too now?" the acolyte asks, still talking a bit louder than usual.

"Tha'd be nice, bu' probably not." Just to be sure, though, Tasha lifts her whip up and waves it at the armor across the room.

Nothing sparks between them, at least.

"No," Tasha says, with certainty.

"Is there anything else you needed to see?" the boy asks, his voice returning more to its normal just-above-a-whisper levels.

"'Ave any clothes for cold weather? Armor, like?" Tasha asks.

"Oi, an' am I allowed to take some o' these with me? No' sure we'll use 'em all; I'll bring 'em back if we don', 'fore we leave," Tasha adds.

"Yes, you can take them," the acolyte says. "They aren't being used. We don't really have winter clothes here though."

"I'll 'ave to see wha' I can come up with," says Tasha. She coils her whip before stuffing it in her belt. Then, she walks over to the sword rack and picks up two swords. Turning, she almost walks back to the boy, but she pauses at the spear rack. "Wha' do you think?" She grabs a spear after tucking the swords under her other arm. "Think it's 'me'?"

"Not really," the boy says. "I can't imagine anything being you. Except maybe that Vykarin."

"Wha's tha' supposed to mean?" Tasha asks, lifting an eyebrow and tapping her nails along the spear.

"You… you're too different for me to make any comparisons," the acolyte finally says, looking nervous.

"Well try, I'm curious now," Tasha insists. She leans on he spear, now, peering at the boy.

"I don't understand the question," the acolyte says.

"You're jus' evading me now," says the Vartan.

"Yes?" the boy admits, sort of. "You are a Herald. I've never seen a picture of one using weapons."

"Oh." Tasha thinks on that a moment. No weapons? Well, best I start fightin' with me 'ead anyway. Shrugging, Tasha puts the spear and one sword away. "This is for me bun," she tells the boy, patting the sword. "The whip's a tool. No weapons for me."

"Very well," the boy says, hoping that agreeing with Tasha will mollify her a bit.

Tasha walks over to the boy and pats his head, then puts a finger on his nose. "Thanks for the 'elp," she tells him, grinning to try and calm the boy's nerves.

"Ummm," the boy says, not seeming very calm. "Can we go now?"

"Am I makin' you nervous?" Tasha frowns, having believed her 'soothing' head pat would definitely work.

"Is there any way I can answer that that won't make you upset?" the boy asks cautiously.

Tasha frowns down at the boy, thinking. Tyche said everyone loves a mother – but how is she supposed to calm a child? I shouldn' scare 'em, no' even accidentally, she considers. Staring more in thought, and likely making the boy more nervous as she does it, Tasha finally decides on a course of action. She kneels down so she doesn't tower over him, then gives him a hug. That's what her mother used to do.

The boy practically vibrates in Tasha's grip. "Are… are you going to carry me off to Abaddon?" he asks shakily.

"I'm givin' you a hug," Tasha replies, a little aggravated. "It's s'posed to make you feel better!"

"Oh. Thank you," the boy says, without relaxing any.

Tasha suddenly starts laughing at the boy's reply, letting him go and falling back on her knees. She shakes her head, shaking. "Oi, I tried!" She sounds more amused than upset, if a little exasperated.

"Your Vykarin probably misses you," the acolyte suggests.

Looking heavenward, and wishing she could ask her alter ego what she's doing wrong, Tasha shakes her head again. She sighs, then stands up. "I 'ope 'e didn' eat anyone," she considers aloud, Glancing towards the door, she tilts her head that way, saying, "Let'sgo."

"Yes ma'am," the acolyte says, fetching back the lamp and leading the way out of the bowels of the Temple, nearly skipping along.

This is goin' to take a lot o' work, Tasha decides. She shakes her head at the boy, wondering what she did wrong with him, but overall feeling good about her trip today. It speaks well for her mission, and she's looking forward to it. She hopes Layth likes the sword, too – at least she knows how to make one Lapi happy.