It has been three days of rest and recuperation at the Kavi trader campsite before the Master Trader, Hajeem, has judged Crista well enough to leave his tender care again. The servants seem a little distant from Zephyr, but since he can't speak the language this may not be surprising. At least the food is excellent and the water and wine, a welcome relief from death by exposure in the desert.

On the third day, shouts greet the arrival of a bright-colored airship from Rephidim, and Hajeem bids "Crista-fendi" and her friend a tearful farewell. The Master Trader personally gives the funds to pay for their passage, along with some whispered assurances that death awaits any trading crew that defiles the hospitality-guarantee of the Himaat Desert Trading Kavi.

Hajeem, a ferretoid of more austere stance than the other Kavis that Zephyr has marked before, comes next to Zephyr with a package…

This package consists of a clean linen robe, three flat-baked rounds of bread that ought to stand up well to travel (it's tougher than leather from the feel of it), and a bag which turns out to contain two handfuls of salt. Perhaps these are traditional guest-gifts to desert nomads.

"Here. For you, stranger," the Kavi says, his words still a strange jumble to the fox's ears. "And for you, Crista-fendi, as well." He presents her another package of the same. "May you both grace my tents again as honored guests."

Zephyr quietly accepts the package, offering a formal bow to the Kavi… what he hopes is a common gesture of thanks. "Thank you."

Crista bows to Hajeem… "Thank you, Master Hajeem… for everything. I hope to visit you again soon."

Hajeem's eyes rest on the fox, as if studying him for some sign. He nods.

Zephyr watches Hajeem quietly, nonthreateningly, his ears swiveling in curiosity. A short, polite nod, then a hint of a friendly smile before the fox resumes a proud stance, tail swishing slowly.

Crista looks from Zephyr to Hajeem and back again. She nods once to Zephyr, approvingly.

Hajeem nods to himself, then turns to Crista. "Well, the good captain will not wait very much longer. Go with the wind, Crista-fendi."

Crista smiles and bows once more, eyes shimmering a bit… "Thank you, Hajeem."

Zephyr glances sideways at Crista, relaxing a bit at her nod. o O {Well, I guess that was correct. New cultures, you never know if scratching your muzzle is a mortal insult.}

The Captain of the tradeship motions for the two to climb up the rope ladders. Above, the single large gasbag of the tradeship bobs as it holds the square-built hull and the trailing mast just clear of the sands.

Zephyr offers Hajeem one more polite, quick bow, then turns to Crista, glancing between her and the airship. His movements are still a little stiff from his healing injuries… but he's had time to brush and groom thoroughly, and his coat once again glistens, giving him an almost formal appearance.

Crista smiles reassuringly to Zephyr and nods to the airship. "This way… it will be fine." She moves off toward the rope ladders, her wing still too tender to fly.

Zephyr pads quietly after Crista, slowly ascending the rope ladder with only a few winces. "Nice ship… "

Crista climbs the rope ladder and then aboard the airship.

Hajeem waves farewell to the airship as his traders untie the mooring line and cast them loose. The airship reels them in and then wings about, setting sail.

Crista braces herself against sudden breezes.

Five days pass aboard the ship in modest discomfort. The quarters are cramped, the food runs to the old and stale if not outright moldy, the crew is surly, but… It's safer than being strapped to a radioactive cannister. Halfway through the voyage, the crew gathers to look out at another sky island passing by, a floating rock capped by light brush and weeds, what looks like a half-built tower that might have been someone's attempt to build a home atop.

"Zairicki's Point," a crewmember confides to Crista. "Never paid off. It was so much trouble finding the place let alone dragging stone up to it to build, that they gave up halfway through building it. Supposed to be a fort of some kind."

Crista nods, looking out at the indicated island… "Interesting. I've never heard of the before."

Zephyr pads quietly up to Crista and the crewmember, ears perked at the conversation. "I wish I knew what you were saying.", he says, smiling, as he looks out over the island. "And that's either got a-gravs, or there's magic on this world too. Interesting… "

The fennec nods. "Not many people get to see it. It's a rare island. Usually off on the other side of the world."

Crista looks over at Zephyr, eyes dark and thoughtful. She turns her attention back to the fennec. "I'm glad that I got to see such a rarity, then."

The voyage ends at a larger island, easily twice the diameter of Zairicki's Point, covered by forest. Buildings jut through the trees, clustered tall about a gray edifice that Crista remembers as the Temple and its surrounding offices and storehouses, followed by the walled quarters of the city proper, and then the sprawl of the Port and the seedy part of town… Darkside, they call it. The airship crosses over the island, then begins to drop toward the Port toward its own mooring point.

Zephyr carefully watches Crista's body language as she listens and speaks, relaxing as he sees only idle curiosity at what they're seeing. He quietly looks at her for a moment more, his eyes narrowed to amber with black slits in the sun, then turns to the rail to watch the island.

Rephidim City. Full of confusion for the newcomer, as Crista well remembers. She has a few friends there… But for the most part, a Solu is a rarity there, and people aren't fond of novelties.

Zephyr looks quietly at Crista, regarding her posture at what she's seeing… "Do you know this place?"

Crista's tenses a bit as the island draws closer. She checks her crossbow and knives. She looks up at Zephyr's voice, and tries to smile… "I've been here before… "

The Captain comes up to his passengers. "You get off here," he says as the ship shudders with its masts being shipped back for docking and the anchor posts come into view around the rails. "You'll be in the way when we're unloading."

Zephyr's ears flatten slightly as he notes Crista's preparations, and he halfsmiles as he indicates his still-carried obsidian knife… carefully hidden between chestfur and robe at its open front. He hides it again as the captain approaches.

Crista nods to the Captain and gestures to Zephyr.

Crista heads for the rope ladders and begins to climb down.

Zephyr nods to the Captain, then follows Crista. "Thank you for the safe voyage, sir." o O {Gah, I hope I don't look like a tourist. This looks like some port cities I've been to… "

The Captain watches after the two wordlessly. Then signals to the other crew members. There's meat to be transshipped, and the stuff spoils fast.

Crista reaches the dock and jumps off, taking a deep breath and looking around.

Zephyr climbs down after Crista, his movements ever more agile as he heals. "Where are we going?" He deliberately shows confusion as he askes the question, swiveling his ears.

Crista smiles reassuringly, nodding to Zephyr.

Groundside, the port buzzes with activity that is familiar to Crista, perhaps dizzying to the fox as porters push their carts full of mysterious crates and boxes and barrels about, and sailors rush to their errands, or to the pleasure of a mug of cold liquid. (one might charitably call it a 'drink')

Zephyr glances around… obviously not confused, only halfsmiling a little as if remembering something. "Looks like a wooden version of Iskara Station's docks… "

Crista gestures for Zephyr to follow her closely, and sets out threading her way through the maze of the docks.

At the outer walls of the city, two Zelak guards stand by the gate, their eyes roving over those coming and going. They are six-legged… insects! With cruel claws jutting from their forelimbs, beneath which their hands are tucked, and powerful hindlegs.

Zephyr follows Crista, warily glancing at all corners, tracking each movement of things around him.

A Zelak guard clacks, then asks of Crista in a flat monotone, "Business?"

Crista nods to the guard. "Yes."

Zephyr stops suddenly, stifling a growl and flattening his ears slightly as he spots the Zelaks, then glances at Crista.

"State your business," the Zelak repeats.

For some reason, the fox has the feeling he's being watched from just over his left shoulder…

Crista smiles briefly to Zephyr, then returns her attention to the Zelek. "I found an Exile in the desert. I've brought him here as the law directs."

The Zelak nods. "You may pass."

Zephyr mumbles, happy that the… bug can't understand him. "Disgusting bugs have no right to be that big… " He gives a short yelp! and spins around, to confront something?

Nothing. If there was anyone watching Zephyr specifically, they must have moved off or been concealed by the press of people.

Crista nods, and starts to move forward, then halts as she realizes something is going on behind her.

Zephyr growls quietly, then facing forward again… plodding after Crista, giving her a short shrug, but keeping a wary eye on everyone and… everything. "Bugs… Big bugs. Great city."

Crista puts a reassuring paw on Zephyr's arm as they move forward.

A Kavi shouts, "Way! Clear the way!" as he rides the front of a large beast-drawn wagon, moving long slabs of lumber. He passes Crista and Zephyr and enters the din of the inner city.

The fox's ears, eyes, whiskers, and nose never stop moving as he pads along with the Solu, giving her quiet looks every now and then, before returning to his observation… as if he's trying to learn as much as he can as quickly as possible.

As the two walk, the city slowly grows more prosperous. Merchants and crafters give way to scholars and bureaucrats' quarters and libraries, then to rich houses, which are themselves replaced by the first multi-level dwellings that Zephyr has seen on Sinai, buildings that appear to be made of offices and storage equally. All through the way, Zephyr has the feeling that one or more people are watching him, but they are doing so in such a way that he's never able to quite catch it.

Crista continues to rest a paw on Zephyr's arm, her other never far from her crossbow. Her eyes, dark with concentration, constantly move over the pathway.

Four Zelak warriors stand guard outside the Temple entrance itself, a sloping wall of chiton carved in odd rectangular designs that reminds Zephyr of circuit diagrams that disappears into the mountainous side of the sky-island. One turns to greet Crista. "Business?"

Zephyr's arm tenses slightly beneath Crista's paw every now and then, his appearance one of just… hearing a threat, but not quite being able to track it.

Crista sighs softly and mutters something to herself, then nods to the guard. "I need to speak with a Temple official."

"With whom?" the Zelak inquires.

Seeing what they've arrived at, Zephyr fights to keep from growling, but his ears flatten. o O {Oh… wonderful. Not just bugs, but a bug _house_! Is this place ruled by things you should by all rights step on?}

Crista shakes her head… "I don't know who… I found this Exile, and as the law directs, am escorting him here."

"Wait here. A priest will be with you shortly," the Zelak warrior orders. He turns about and walks into the Temple.

Crista nods and turns to look at Zephyr.

Zephyr sighs, half looking at Crista, half-looking into the temple. He looks… tense as he watches the retreating guard. "Bugs."

Crista seems to read Zephyr's feelings and nods… "I know… I know… me too."

Shortly, a peppery-gray poodle in a long robe steps out of the temple. "Oh dear! Another Exile! This is the second one this year," he mutters to himself. He sizes up those standing before him, then asks querulously. "Ah. Which of you is the Exile?"

Crista raises an eyebrow… "It's probably the one who can't speak our language."

Zephyr blinks as he looks at the… um… canid?, but in this case is careful to not show any feeling. o O {That _can't_ be one of my relatives. Not a canid, no way. Must be some kind of wierd rodent… }

"Of course," the priest says with a faint worried smile. "Come along then. Thank you very much for bringing this Exile to our attention." He nods dismissively to Crista and holds out a hand for Zephyr to take.

Crista steps forward… "Sir… I would like to stay with him, if I may… "

The priest blinks. "Well. Really. Our procedures are most modern and painless, I assure you. But if you insist… "

"That is, they are USUALLY painless," the priest acknowledges.

Crista smiles, shaking her head… "Oh, I'm not questioning that… it's just… I rescued him… I guess… I feel somewhat responsible… I know it's not usual… but if you could see your way to make it so? Please?"

The priest rubs his fingers in a familiar gesture. "Well. It is a considerable disruption of our routines, you understand… "

Crista fishes in her bag a moment, fumbling…

Zephyr turns to watch Crista, his ears flattening fully as he listens to her tone of voice, glancing at the… canid.

Crista comes up with something and extends a paw to the priest. There is a soft clink.

The priest looks pleased. "But for such a courteous lady as yourself, I am certain any inconvenience would be a mere trifle. Please, come in this way."

The panel on the outside of the wall clicks open. "Inquisitor Melchizedek? This is Subaltern Fiji. I have another Exile for you, sir."

Careful to keep them hidden in the folds of his robe… Zephyr, following the others, has his claws out. He is… not trusting the situation at all, despite his trust for Crista.

Dressed in red and black robes, a humanoid with vaguely equinoid features turns away from the parchment on his desk, stopping mid-motion from dipping the quill into the inkwell once more. He pauses a moment, then wipes the quill on the blotter and sets it aside.

Crista OCC laughs.

The Inquisitor rises from his desk, turning toward the voice. "Thank you. I shall see the exile immediately."

Crista gestures for Zephyr to move forward, squeezing his arm gently.

The door slowly slides open… Manhandled by two of the wolf guards outside the room.

Zephyr moves forward hesitantly, his ears still flattened back, eyes narrowed, nose twitching as he tests all scents…

The poodle priest conducts Zephyr into the office. "Thank you, milord Inquisitor, for making time in your busy schedule. Ah, the Exile here, you see, seems to be a very nervous specimen. Should I fetch restraints?"

Crista follows Zephyr, a bit nervous herself.

Zephyr blinks, and shows teeth, backing up suddenly and pointing to the dentist's chair. He starts to move into a crouch, growling lowly…

Two of the wolf guards follow the others and take up positions. The others stand outside the room and begin to cycle the door shut again.

the form of the Inquisitor, in black and red robes which reach the floor. From within the cowl a pair of deep brown eyes regard the fox with great scrutiny … and the expression might indicate that the Inquisitor's immediate conclusion is less than positive.

"Ah. I'll go and fetch those restraints now," the poodle yelps quickly. He scoots outside the door before it shuts.

Crista says softly… "No… no… please… they are here to help." She moves toward Zephyr.

Zephyr blinks again, staring oddly at Crista… then spins and runs for the door!

The Inquisitor turns to one side, addressing a cheetah standing in the corner. "You may – " He cuts off his own words. "Seize him!"

The door is just this side of closed. Enough to perhaps struggle a limb through, but the guards are busily cycling it closed.

The cheetah looks a bit perplexed, not exactly looking the sort to be asked to apprehend anybody.

Crista gasps, leaping into flight after the fox… "Wait… wait… "

Zephyr slams hard into the door, then spins around again… and stalks slowly towards the Inquisitor, eyes almost glowing, teeth displayed, claws out. A cornered predator is a dangerous thing…

The guards move forward. "Your will, milord?" one of the wolves asks.

Zephyr points back towards the door, eyes narrowing further. "Open it… " he growls…

Crista says, "Wait, please… I can calm him.^"

The door clicks shut the rest of the way.

Crista lands near Zephyr, wincing a bit at her wing… "Please, please… I won't let them hurt you… calm down… " Her eyes are dark with concern, but her tone is calming.

Angrily, the Inquisitor yanks back his cowl, revealing a black face with features that look equinoid and deer-like, with an abbreviated muzzle. His head is topped with a fiery red mane, through the center of which protrudes a spiralling horn – deepest blue, almost black. His eyes narrow as he regards this impertinent stranger.

Melchizedek says, in a low, even voice. "So, you look as if you know you are cornered, with nowhere to escape. Now, why is that? What have you to hide, 'exile'?"

Zephyr, a trapped fox, is under the full influence of his instincts now… he's of a different stock than many here perhaps, closer to his ancestors…

The unicornoid looks up to the guards. "Has he been checked for weapons? See to it immediately."

Crista turns to implore the INquisitor… "Please… I rescued him from some Kavi who would have sacrificed him… he's just scared."

"We have our orders, ma'am," one of the wolf guards says. "If you will have the Exile hold still?"

The guards start to move forward.

Zephyr watches the glance and words directed at the guards, then looks at the guards themselves. "Touch me, and you'll wish you hadn't… ", he snarls…

Crista says, "I'm trying… please… don't retrain him… I can calm him… PLEASE."

Melchizedek nods to Crista, his tone abruptly switching to a calm, almost fatherly voice. "Of course. Of course. A stranger in a strange land. But we must take all precautions."

Zephyr backs into a crouch, arms spread, claws out, mouth open to show four razorsharp canines… He's obviously ready to injure anyone who touches him.

The guards wear heavy leather gloves with what look to Zephyr like plastic backings of some kind to protect them, and thick ceramic armor. They look down at the fox who obviously growled with menace, and bristle their own muzzles. "Animal… " one mutters. "Probably can't even talk if you put him through the Machine."

Crista kneels in front of Zephyr, holding out her paws to him… "Please… please… "

Zephyr glances at the Inquisitor as the guard approach… o O {Can't take them both… Wonder if I could take him as a hostage?}

The unicornoid shakes his head. "A pity. However, I am not about to believe we have a mere beast here. No, not at all. You can see the cunning in his eyes."

Zephyr doesn't even seem to see Crista. She's not a threat, so she's ignored… he's running on pure instinct now, every muscle primed to fight.

"Yes, milord," a wolf guard says. They look impatiently at Crista to get on with telling her pet to heel.

Crista's eyes darken with pleading… "Please… don't fight them."

The unicornoid stands, regarding the feral fox and the Solu trying to calm him.

Crista's wings extend, blocking Zephyr from view. She reaches out to him… trying to touch his shoulder.

The guards tense. They step to be between Zephyr and the Inquisitor, their hands on their swords.

Zephyr backs quickly in a crouch to the dentist's chair… then ducks under it in one smooth motion, peering at the guards from its other side. o O {They've got to come around either both on one side, or one on each side… either way, it's a better shot… }

The guards start to look increasingly disgruntled. One calls mockingly, "Here, fox, fox."

The unicornoid sighs, looking weary.

Crista stands as Zephyr scoots away from her. She looks discouraged.

Melchizedek mutters, "This is NOT going to be pleasant." He reaches to the wall, pulling on a cord twice, pausing, then again.

Zephyr peer over the top, then growls lowly at the guard, noting his mocking tone. "What are you calling for, you domesticated mutt? They won't feed you unless you follow orders?" His tone is biting and sarcastic.

In a minute, the sounds of heavy boots thump in the corridor outside. Someone goes 'Yelp!' as he is shouldered aside.

Crista says again… "Please… please… stop this… they won't hurt you." She moves toward Zephyr.

Melchizedek raises an eyebrow at the gibberish. "Hmmmm… "

The cheetah attendant cowers in the far corner quietly, regarding the goings-on with alarm.

The door begins to cycle open… Revealing an assortment of twenty Zelak and wolf guards, including two medical officers carrying long glass cylinders which drip a greasy yellow substance from metal needles. and one poodle priest looking rather discomfitted as he holds up the heavy manacles and leather straps he went to get. "Your restraints, I-i-Inquisitor Melchize-ze-zedek."

Zephyr watches the Inquisitor, grinning menacingly through his feral glare… "Can't handle me alone, hmm? Coward."

Crista turns and looks at the guards, a sad look on her face.

Zephyr sees the… manacles, and glares harder at the Inquisitor. "You touch me with those, and I'll kill you. I swear it."

The unicornoid looks disdainfully toward the fox as he answers the poodle. "I am most grateful, Brother Fiji. Please, see the Solu and Azhtar out of the chamber."

Crista shakes her head… "Please… please… let me stay… I feel responsible… "

Zephyr turns his gaze to the Solu, giving her the hard stare of one betrayed… and then growls at her as he has all the others.

Zephyr spits out words at her, their tone obvious. "Thanks a lot. I _trusted_ you."

"You may well be responsible, but we shall have to deal with that later. For now, we have other matters on our hands. Guards, if you would be so kind, please see them out without further ado," the unicorn intones.

Crista shakes her head… "No… no… please… please… " She moves toward Zephyr again.

The guards begin to file inside, covering Zephyr with their spears and daggers. A Zelak and a wolf nod to the Inquisitor. "Your will, milord." The Zelak reaches its claw-hands out for Crista's arm, while the wolf-guard gives the cheetah his protection.

Zephyr's eyes remain cold to Crista. He trusted, and was betrayed… that's all he sees.

Unlike Crista, the cheetah seems all to eager to be away from the scene, and disappears quickly into the hall.

Priest Fiji hesitantly stands by with the restraints, next to the medical officers. The office seems filled almost wall to wall with warriors.

Crista twists away from the Zelak.

The Zelak clackclacks warningly. "Liaison Officer-Inquisitor Melchizedek has requested your immediate departure from this office, Solu. Please to comply."

The unicornoid's tone is warning as he looks to the Solu. "It is time to leave. Your interference with this matter would be seen in a most unfavorable light."

Crista's eyes fill with tears… "Please… " Her voice trails off and she nods.

The Zelak offers its clawhand again, peremptory.

Zephyr watches the Solu leave bitterly, growling each word. "Nice act. That's why you saved me, strong body for whatever they want to make me into. Recruiter. Thanks."

Crista's wings droop, a feather fluttering to the floor. She puts a paw in the Zelak's claw.

The Zelak leads Crista out of the office without comment. The door clicks shut behind them in slow steps.

Crista removes her paw… "He said outside the office… I'm outside now, Zelak."

"Indeed," The Zelak says. It does not release Crista, but it does not continue farther.

Crista patpats the Zelak… "I believe you can go, Zelly. I won't go back in, I promise."

A minute of mayhem later… Zephyr is well and thoroughly subdued with what he is fairly certain are three broken ribs, two broken legs, both arms twisted painfully behind him to make him submit. Some of the guards are nursing cuts – only the wolf guards however, none of the Zelaks – and Priest Fiji is scowling murderously at the fox, nursing a long tear in his arm. "Restraints," he hisses.

And with that, Zephyr is lashed into the dentist's chair to a fare-thee-well: an iron collar fastened around his neck and locked into place, manacles fettering his wrists and ankles, straps around his body and arms and legs to allow very little motion at all. Indeed, it would be hellish if he were to contract a sudden itch in his side.

Fiji, breathing hard, bows to the Inquisitor. "Your will, milord."

The black unicornoid looks coldly down at the fox. "We do not take kindly to this manner of behavior, 'exile'. You would do well to learn some manners."

Zephyr growls, snarling insults in his homeworld's language to the Inquisitor, priest, and guards, questioning their parentage, their ability to mate, and finally calling them 'prey animals'… the worst possible insult to his species.

Crista hovers near a panel, sliding it off and peeking carefully.

The robed Inquisitor Majoris paces around the chair, holding an obsidian dagger in his hands. "Most intriguing. I shall have many questions for you, I see. I suspect that this next step may well be entirely unnecessary, but it IS a matter of protocol… "

The unicornoid sets the dagger aside, and nods as the globe is brought to him. "A pity I cannot give you any instructions on how to behave to make this as painless as possible, but I don't imagine you would be inclined to take my advice, regardless."

Zephyr looks back at the Inquisitor, fire in his eyes… then shows teeth. "Kill me if you want, but all you can do is make me angrier. And if you don't, I'll kill you." He finishes by spitting contemptously in the Inquisitor's direction.

Crista watches from the intercom panel, worry in her eyes.

Subaltern Fiji stands by to assist the Inquisitor in this duty. He begins to lower the globe around the fox's head, which drops a gray screen over his eyes…

The globe clicks into place, leaving Zephyr's muzzle poking out but otherwise completely enclosing his head.

Crista gasps softly, just barely managing to dampen the sound.

From somewhere beyond the fox's range of vision, the unicornoid reaches to the wall for a wood-handled metal knife switch which resists at first, then snaps downward with a crackle and a pop of sparks.

Zephyr keeps growling, teeth showing. "Oh, how nice. You have VR brainwashing. You're welcome to try."

Pain! And a sudden… *CLICK*

The fox finds himself suddenly on some kind of gray landscape, surrounded by little mouse-shaped icons. They're scurrying around from one place to another.

Strange. This must be some kind of interactive virtual reality. Brainwashing, perhaps – but if so, it's difficult to see what all these creatures have to do with mind control. They don't seem in the least afraid of Zephyr; in fact, some are beelining straight for him.

Zephyr AGHS!, and pants a little… then looks around and chuckles. "Oh… Good. If you can hear me, I had better VR in toys when I was a kit… "

No answer. A mouse is about to hit Zephyr's side!

Zephyr instinctively dodges, using his tail to swat the 'mouse' away.

Zephyr chuckles again. "Mouse invaders? Is this a video game of some sort?"

*pok!* The mouse disappears into Zephyr's tail, lines of information radiating away… And into Zephyr? He feels a rush of emotions and energy surging up his mind.

Zephyr yelps! and stumbles a little. "What the… "

Words! They're made of data! This is some kind of teaching VR – though Zephyr can't imagine how it has been set up so strangely, it's not at all intuitive.

Already though, many words that Zephyr has heard are starting to make sense.

Crista's eyes widen as she watches. Occasionally she looks about her to make sure she is not observed.

Other of the mice are scurrying about aimlessly, and the fox has a strong sense that each of them is unique – that there's so much that could be learned in here…

Zephyr holds his mind fast, keeping his own cool anger as a fire to hold his own emotions separate from the 'mouse' induced ones… and then starts grabbing at mice. "Great! Information to use against them… "

Out in the hall, the cheetah attendant occasionally watches Crista without comment – without any sound at all, for that matter.

As Zephyr is grabbing at a fifth, the poodle priest begins to lift the helmet away. Everything becomes hazy, unreal… Replaced with the flickering light of the panels overhead, competing with the quieter candlelight from the Inquisitor's desk, followed by the hostile stares of wolf and Zelak guards.

Zephyr, after a second, starts deliberately grabbing for mice that _aren't_ headed for him… "Maybe these are data files I'm not meant to know? Could be useful… "

"Well now, you have no excuse to keep speaking in gibberish. Let's hear your name, 'exile'," the unicornoid utters from just outside Zephyr's field of vision.

Crista's ears flick at something she thought she heard… but she continues to watch.

Zephyr swivels his ears as if he doesn't understand? and speaks in his native language. "What?"

Zephyr thinks. o O {Okay, so they taught me their language. Maybe they'll think their little helmet toy is broken… }

A thick glove slaps the fox across the muzzle. "No more games."

Zephyr snaps at the glove, managing to bite it deeply… but doing no damage. He looks confused yet, eyes hardening again as he speaks… not in Common. "Whatever you're saying, I don't know. Nice video games you've got, though. Do I get a bonus round?"

"Tell me your name," the unicornoid rumbles, "or shall I guess at it for you? If you have any better stories than the one I am starting to formulate now, you'd best share them, because I don't think you will find the logical conclusions of my theories pleasant."

"Ah. Quite the quick one, aren't you? Don't think yourself so clever. You can be struck in many more places where I doubt you'll prove quite so dextrous to make a reposte," the unicornoid intones.

Crista's ears flickflick back and forth as she listens, shaking her head a bit.

Subaltern Fiji suggests, "Perhaps the medical officer could prescribe some… Drugs. Something that would loosen this so-called Exile's tongue." He glowers at the troublesome fox.

Zephyr keeps speaking in his native tounge, grinning fiercely. "Oooh… he used some big words. Impressive."

The Inquisitor turns to pace away, then spins about, snapping, "I should remind you, Brother Fiji, that I am the one in charge here, and I would prefer not to have to resort to such methods. While many times they may prove useful, there is still the risk … "

Fiji yelps and hides his muzzle. He cowers. "Of course, milord. Anything you say, milord."

The unicornoid turns back toward the fox, "… of undesireable side-effects that might make the 'patient' far less useful."

Zephyr finally speaks in Repedim standard, looking directly at the Inquisitor. eyes cold. "Then why don't you take them yourself, and spare me the trouble?"

"Aha. Our exile speaks his first words in the tongue in a pale attempt at a retort. Welcome to Rephidim," the unicornoid smiles insincerely.

Zephyr chuckles sarcastically. "Ah. Sorry I wasn't as obtuse with my words as you are, horsey."

Fiji blanches. It's obvious that VERY few people make the mistake of being rude to one of those who rule this place.

Crista flinches at the fox's words.

"This is a most intriguing weapon you have here," the unicornoid remarks, fingering the obsidian dagger. "Tell me, does it work better than bone? And have you any other weapons hidden within that fur of yours? It's rather thick."

Zephyr glares at the poodle. "And what are _you_ looking at, prey animal?" He snaps his teeth menacingly.

"Of course, we can take care of /that/ problem… " the unicornoid muses.

Zephyr grins darkly at the inquisitor. "Do I have any other weapons? Why don't you unlock me, tell all your guards to leave, and we'll find out one-on-one? Or are you too much of a coward for that?"

Zephyr watches the unicornoid… "Oh… Wait… sorry. I'd never strike a female. I apologize."

"Now, now, don't be absurd. I'm not about to engage in some contest of machismo. Let's have some formal introductions, shall we?" the unicornoid nods. "You have me at a disadvantage as to your name, I'm afraid. So, let us start with mine. I am Arch Inquisitor Majoris Raphael Melchizedek."

The unicornoid points at the fox. "And you are not."

Zephyr chuckles. "Geseundheit. Oh… that was your _name_! I'm sorry… "

Crista laughs softly, in spite of herself.

Fiji perks his ears. Was that some noise? He walks quietly toward the intercom.

Crista freezes in place, not moving.^

The unicornoid faintly smiles. "I would very much like to have something to write down in my report that will not already be covered in the medical summary of the wounds inflicted upon the guards. Having you answer some questions would fulfil that desire very nicely… "

Fiji begins to cycle the door open.

"… lacking that, I shall simply have to move on to other, optional and possibly unnecessary steps – such as the body cavity search," the unicorn shrugs.

Crista softly returns the panel and wings up into the air and back into the shadows.

"Your cooperation would be most appreciated," the Inquisitor adds with a baleful glance toward the door.

Fiji peers outside distrustfully. Nothing except a cringing cheetah, Azhtar. "Shoo, Azhtar. Go to your quarters!" the poodle says. He steps out and replaces the panel on the intercom, then steps back in and begins closing the door.

Zephyr hrmphs. "Awww… the poor guard are off licking their wounds, are they? I sincerely hope I didn't hurt them _too_ badly…

The cheetah looks up to the spying Solu, then complies, disappearing down the corridor.

The door clicks shut again.

Crista exhales with relief and laughs softly. "Whew."

Zephyr stares solidly at the inquisitor now. "And why should I answer questions, if you'd give me a valid reason? Because I don't consider you worthy of my answers without a reason, horsey.

"Stop boasting, thief. Your name. Even if it's a title or an alias, give me a name," the unicornoid demands.

The Inquisitor drums his gloved hands on his chin. "That stone dagger was rather skillfully hidden within that chestruff of yours. Who knows what else could be concealed within all that hair? Perhaps I should see to having some shears called for… "

"An excellent idea, milord," Fiji agrees.

Zephyr says, "A name? Alright… Arch Inquisitor Majoris Raphael Melchizedek. Oops… wait, that one's already taken, isn't it? "

The unicornoid nods. "Yes, that option is looking more appealing by the moment. But not in here. I don't want fox fur all over the floor."

Zephyr glances at the poodle. "Right, prey animal. You're already clipped so dantily on your own."

Subaltern Fiji looks as if he would rather enjoy clipping Zephyr far worse.

Crista slowly flutters down and removes the panel again, this time scooting more out of sight. She winces at her wing, but remains quiet.

"Make the arrangements, would you, Brother Fiji? Perhaps it will prove to be unnecessary, but it does not hurt to be ready should the need arise," the Inquisitor nods.

"Of course, Inquisitor. The dungeon barber stands ever ready." Fiji walks to the door and begins to cycle it again.

Zephyr calls after Fiji. "Don't hurt yourself now, prey animal!"

Crista eeks at the door and replaces the panel quickly, again fluttering to the shadows above.

"And he clips… More than fur." Fiji snarls over his shoulder at Zephyr while working the door. He steps out into the corridor and begins cycling it shut behind himself.

The door clacks shut again.

"Will you be so bold, sharp-tongued one, when you are as hairless as a newborn rat?" the Inquisitor asks with an almost weary detachment. "It may amuse Fiji, but I think that we could arrange for a more pleasant resolution to this situation if you would adopt a more congenial tone," the Inquisitor adds.

Subaltern Fiji walks rapidly down the hallway to the basement levels.

Zephyr shouts after Fiji as the door closes. "Ah, so _that's_ what happened to you!"

Zephyr glares up at the inquisitor. "Pleasant? Okay… You've already broken most of my limbs and stuck me in a video game against my will, after I was brought here by that k'thraied _recruiter_ that I actually was stupid enough to trust. I can't _imagine_ anything more pleasant than that…

Crista holds her place for a time, not wishing to surprise the returning Fiji.

"I do believe you can attribute your broken limbs to the violent show you insisted on making in this chamber earlier, 'exile'," the unicornoid adds with a sigh. "And as for a 'recruiter', I have no notion what you're babbling about. This story had better be good."

Crista's eyes darken and her tail uncurls a little, lashing. She slowly descends.

Zephyr blinks, and growls. "Story? You bring me into a room with a nasty-looking torture chair, close the door behind me, and act all calm and collected and superior, and you think I _won't_ fight? You're the one who better have a good story."

Crista hesitates a moment, as if deciding whether to leave or stay and listen.

The unicornoid points at the fox. "You're the one who has been flattening your ears and growling at everyone within an arm's breadth and then some."

"You're a very suspicious character, 'exile'. There are rumors about you already. Do you think your arrival has gone unnoticed before now?" the unicornoid paces.

Zephyr glances down at his restraints, at the remains from empty needles, and the helmet, then speaks sarcastically. "Oh, I can't imagine _why_ I didn't trust you."

"Trust," the unicornoid snaps, "is not an issue. I think you would be better off to consider the facts. Trust or no, you are in a very vulnerable position, stranger, and you have not done anything to enhance *my* trust in *you*. Nor, for that matter, to inspire any sympathy."

Crista slips the panel off again, and bows her ear.

Zephyr hrphs, and keeps growling softly. "All of us are in vulnerable positions each time we step outside. Doesn't mean we tell our life's story to scum like you."

"Hmm. Scum. How terribly unkind of a thing to say. I don't suppose we're going to make any progress, now, are we?" the unicornoid shakes his head.

The Inquisitor looks up to one of the wolves. "Hit him. Hard."

Zephyr watches the unicornoid's pacing. "What in K'hrai's name do you want to know about me for anyway? And if you had been _nice_ about it…

Crista starts at the Inquisitor's words.

The Inquisitor holds up his hand. "Belay that." He turns toward the fox.

A wolf guard dispassionately reaches up, but holds his armored hand before he can slam it down.

"Now then, you surely aren't going to tell me that you would have told me your name if I'd asked you, 'Pretty please?'" the Inquisitor says, hand still held up.

Zephyr keeps his eyes locked on the inquisitor, glances to the wolf, then back to the inquisitor. "Coward. And if you had been _nice_, maybe met me out front and shown me pictures of a helmet being put on, and words going into it, then the little figure talking to people… I would have nodded and sat down, then given you an interview. But now…

Zephyr narrows his eyes. "Now, all I want to do is kill you."

The black gloves of the black unicorn glide in front of him, as he brings his palms together. "You, stranger, are now in Rephidim. You may well wish to kill me, but for your own sake, I strongly suggest that you repress such desires for now. I certainly am not about to give you any opportunity to act upon them."

Zephyr grins ferally. "You hope."

With a gesture toward the fox, the unicorn continues, "I wish to know your name, where you came from, how you got here, WHEN you got here, who you may have travelled with, and what has happened since then. You are not doing well to impress me. If you insist on trying to convince me that you are a threat, then, rest assured, you shall be treated as such, without mercy."

Zephyr blinks, and then narrows his eyes further. "You did all this to me instead of just _asking_ that! Sure hope you never go into the door-to-door census business, horsey. You'd kill off most of the city."

The Inquisitor paces again. "I do not think your stay here is going to be a pleasant one. Processing, unfortunately, can be that way. Wherever you come from, perhaps you are in a position of power and are used to having your way. That is not likely to be the case here – not for a long time. I fear we shall have to impress upon you the gravity of your situation. Humility will serve you well."

Zephyr chuckles. "Tell humility to bring me a drink while they're serving, will you?"

The Inquisitor nods to the wolves. "I think our guest will be needing a room for a prolonged stay."

"Of course, milord," the wolf responds.

"You can trade jabs with the walls for a while, stranger," the Inquisitor says, "and perhaps find some time to let your mind clear. We shall see what is to be done then. I would advise you to at least put on a /facade/ of civility for a change."

Crista quickly replaces the panel and slips off down the hall, just out of sight.

The guards begin to free the restraints… from the table. The manacles and chains stay firmly on Zephyr, and the guards clearly know how to use them to keep the fox from going very far.

Zephyr glares back at the inquisitor, showing teeth again. o O {They think they can brainwash me… I'm not giving them the smallest foothold. I'll die first.}

Zephyr shrugs inwardly. o O {Not like I care much anyway, not without Wyn… }

The guards haul Zephyr down to the basement… And the sub-basement levels where the dungeons are kept – dark rows and rows of cells with air conditioning that doesn't work, little fans just moving stale air around, only the occasional opening and closing of hatches to bring in new air. There are no windows on the outside world. And there, Zephyr witnesses his ultimate… Humiliation.

"Yes. Sheared. The Inquisitor wants this prisoner shaved completely bald," Fiji says to the barber.

The poodle smiles brilliantly to the guards. "Ah! You are just in time."

"Ohhh, and we'll want a dungeon medical officer on hand. We might have to do a… more intrusive search, if we turn up anything in all this shaving," the poodle says thoughtfully. He looks malicious.

Zephyr struggles within for a long time… his fur _is_ part of who he is… and he can always lie. He closes his eyes, trying to look convincingly defeated. "What do you want to know?"

disappointed. "Giving in so quickly, you rebellious heretic? What, no words of defiance? Proud declarations of your immunity to pain of all sort?" He taps a finger against his chin. "Well then."

Fiji looks over at the barber. "Do sharpen those shears, will you?" He looks back over at Zephyr, as if measuring the fox's sincerity.

Zephyr thinks… o O {Perhaps this is a better approach. If they think I'm telling them what they want to hear, maybe I can get my revenge and escape… And it'll hurt less.} He sighs deeply, keeping his eyes closed. "No… ", he stammers out weakly. o O {Little rat… you just wait… }

Fiji sighs. "Well then." He signals to a guard. "Go and tell the Inquisitor that the fox is ready to talk. We're in the Dungeon."

After an uncomfortable passage of many moments, there is the sound of locks being opened, doors clanging open and shut again, and the echo of hooves on the floor leading to the cell.

At last, the hoofsteps and footsteps draw closer, and the Inquisitor steps in, accompanied by two wolves, one of whom is sporting a few bandages and a sour look.

"Milord," Subaltern Fiji says almost proudly as he greets the Inquisitor from beside the barber. "Your idea was sublimely blessed, truly the inspiration of the will of the First Ones. See, the prisoner cowers from the very sight of these shears, sharpened to razor's edges!" He bows low to the unicornoid.

The Inquisitor raises an eyebrow. "To tell the truth, I am pleasantly surprised." He nods to Fiji. "Well done." He turns toward the fox. "Now then. You know my name. How shall you be addressed?"

Crista, meanwhile, has slipped down to the same level. Using her capability of flight, she hovers close to the top of the cells, trying to hear events within.

Crista moves near a corner and clings to the wall where there's a crawlspace.

Zephyr sighs, and keeps looking at the floor, eyes closed. "Though I don't know why you'd want to know… I'm nothing special… My name is Cylan Redtail. I am… was… a trader from a distant world, ran a trading vessel, bulk cargo mostly… With some of those ports, you got used to thieves who would jump you while you were around unloading, so you learn to carry hidden weapons… that's why the knife.

The unicorn nods, looking away at nothing in particular. "What sort of cargo, that you are so reluctant to speak of it?"

"And you seem to have great experience in melee. Surely that is not just from practice during your journeys and the occasional scuffle with that knife of yours?" the unicorn adds.

Zephyr's ears swivel a little. "Umm… grain, spare parts, tools, foodstuffs, entertainment packages… normal stuff, except I got paid more to take it past areas that had pirates. Had to fight off boarders a couple times.

Zephyr sighs deeply. "Okay, so… once in a while, luxury foodstuffs into ports with tariffs, maybe undeclared… "

"And where did you last come from, before journeying here to Sinai? And were there any with you?" the Inquisitor asks.

Zephyr shrugs. "Long voyages, I got bored, so studied fighting a lot… figured it might save my life with pirates, or if some nut jumped me in port…

Zephyr swivels his ears again. "From? From there… I don't know if this is the same universe even. One of those magic-type people… Never understood them… but he was all angry at me about some crystals he shipped that got too cold and broke. He didn't say warm storage, I showed him the forms, he didn't care, I _told_ him about regulation AA-17F, that if shipping instructions aren't specified, it's not the shipper's fault for damages. We got into an argument, and he pulled out some kind of glowing thing and threw it at me. Next thing I knew… I was out in the desert, and these ferret things were beating on me. Last I know.

The unicorn nods. "I see. A mysterious crystal. Now, tell me, have YOU any magical powers or abilities we should know about?"

"Quite a novel way to solve a dispute. Have a device which teleports one into other universes, and keep it around just to teleport away someone who owes you money. Quite the mode of operation… " the unicorn muses.

Zephyr opens his eyes a little and blinks. "Me? One of those kind?" He looks shocked. "I wish. They could do all kind of things that I had to pay for, moving heavy things, getting food… "

Zephyr growls. "K'thda'ed magician probably took my ship, too."

Fiji sniffs disdainfully.

The unicorn spins around, eyeing Zephyr levelly. "Interesting story, Celin. But you are not much better at lying than you are at your insults."

Zephyr says, "Cylan."

Zephyr says, "Cy to my friends… " He growls a little. "Which you're not.""

"Now, I know good and well that any good Inquisitor should question you now, and quickly, before you have time to make up stories – like you have been doing now while I have had to stand here and wait for you to concoct them. But I'm a bit, shall we say, unconventional. I'm going to give you some time alone to think over things, and get your story straight, and to figure out that you would do a lot better to tell me the truth, however painful it may be to your reputation or pride. And, to show good will, I'll let you keep your fur. For now," the Inquisitor nods.

Fiji looks disappointed. "Perhaps just a little off around the wrist will show him you mean business, milord?"

The unicorn pats Fiji on the shoulder. "Oh, if you insist. We wouldn't want him to think I'm too squeamish."

The poodle *smiles*. "Oh! Thank you, milord."

"A small thing, in light of that nasty gash you received from the melee. DO keep it just a little around the wrist, though. Let's not be too liberal with interpretations. His tail is most certainly NOT in the vicinity of his wrist," the Inquisitor adds.

Zephyr gives the poodle a withering glare. o O {Oh, you just wait… You just wait… }

Zephyr looks back to the inquisitor, looking down again…

Crista slowly sneaks down and flutter quietly out, finding a suitably clandestine way out of the Temple.

The poodle smiles evilly back to Zephyr. "Barber, you have your orders… Proceed. Just his right wrist."