I lifted my eyes to the Aura’s as I made my way through supper as quickly as I could without dropping the spoon, hoping for some sign of pleasure at my performance. The raccoon, however, sat impassively opposite me, one elbow on the table, her muzzle resting on her bunched fist. Her tail lazily curled behind her, and she picked idly at the cuff of her robe with her other claws. When she caught my gaze, she tilted her head to the side and chuckled, hollow and lacking any humor at all. “You’ve picked that up quick,” she commented, her voice dry. “Now with your paws.”

I grimaced and ducked my head. “Yes, ma’am.” I licked clean the spoon, then set it on the table. Lifting the bowl took both paws, balancing it carefully between them. I pressed my pads against the wood, shifting it back towards my wrists to make sure I had a secure hold, then brought the edge to my lips and tilted my head back. With a spoon, supper been had thin but manageable; trying to pour hot, lumpy potato gruel into my muzzle without burning myself, though, made it seem all too thick and awkward. I gingerly shook the bowl in my paws, then swallowed the first muzzleful, lowering the bowl a bit. The gruel burned my lips as I ate, but I did my best to finish the bowl.

By the time I was done, the heat between my legs was more than enough to overwhelm the lingering burn in my throat. I dropped the bowl on the table and folded my paws in my lap, my head bowed, my cheeks flushed. Pressing my paws flat against my cleft dulled the tingling, throbbing beneath them, but I did little more than fidget, shifting my paws anxiously against myself. The memories of my last attempt to resolve my own desires still lingered in my mind. On the first morning after the ritual, Aura found me whimpering and bleeding, having rubbed myself raw during the night without a shred of relief. It took her three days to treat the sores, made worse by my ongoing attempts to relieve my arousal. By the second evening, she’d tied my wrists to the foot of her bed to keep my paws away from myself, and I still spent that night squirming, silently begging for the release I couldn’t give myself.

Aura watched me shift in my chair, then chuckled and stood, adjusting her robe as she did so. She grabbed my dinner bowl, then walked towards the counter with it, calling back over her shoulder. “On the floor with you!” As I scrambled to comply, I heard the rustling of cloth and the rattling of glass, and then her hindfalls as she approached again. “Good. A bit of dessert for you.” She set the bowl down on the floor in front of me, revealing a pawful of dried fruit drizzled with some kind of glaze. “Finish that, without your paws, and I’ll be back for you in a bit.” Then she was gone, squeezing out of the door and disappearing up the stairs.

I whined to myself, knees pressed together. “Yes, ma’am,” I mumbled. My ears flushed with embarrassment and flattened against my head, but I lowered my muzzle to the bowl anyway. Balanced on my elbows and knees, with my rump in the air, I wondered what others would think of me if they saw me. Not even a slave at this point, Taneh, I told myself as I pulled a ring of apricot from the bowl. You’re just an animal, eating out of a bowl on the floor like any other pet. The thoughts made the burning that much brighter, and I whimpered, grinding my thighs against each other. The thoughts came unbidden, ever since I had arrived at Aura’s. Was I like this before I had arrived? Had I simply never realized? Did it matter?

I did my best to focus on nosing through the slices of fruit. Whatever syrup she had used tasted of hibiscus and honey, and it was the first sweet I’d had since I arrived, and so I was eager to enjoy as much of it as I could, even though supper had been filling. I tried to put the heat in my nethers out of my mind as I ate, but my thoughts refused to be silent. This is to be your life, Taneh. One of Baron Deterikh’s housepets, if you’re lucky. Eating from the floor, sleeping at the end of his bed, and—ah! Something cool and damp brushed against my cleft, shocking me out of my self-arousal. Reflexively, I pushed back against it, trying to take it further within, but as I shifted, it withdrew, the heat returning again. I whined, spreading my knees and arching my back.

“Eager little thing, aren’t you?” Aura’s voice teased from behind me, her paw suddenly on the small of my back. I’d been so engrossed in the treat and the need that I hadn’t even registered her return. “Have you been good? Think you deserve a little relief?” That cool touch returned, rubbing slowly along my lips, brushing past the sensitive pearl of flesh between.

I whined again and nodded, trying to raise my tail further, to expose myself to her. I started to beg, then caught myself and just started to whimper in the back of my throat. The flood of heat within me seemed all the worse for that touch of relief, now withdrawn.

Aura laughed. “Begging for it, even. Dion will be pleased; hopefully the baron…” She paused, then chuckled drily. “If the rumors have any hint of truth, then no doubt he’ll approve. Hold.” I tried to stop moving, but as the cool shaft pressed itself back inside of me once more, I couldn’t stop the moan that escaped my muzzle. I caught it as soon as I could, but the sage only laughed. “I wouldn’t beat a dray for neighing; why should I punish you? You’re a good pet, aren’t you?” I nodded again, and the shaft pushed further inside, stretching my tunnel, the chill running down its length stilling and stoking the fire inside me. “Of course you are,” she soothed as she started to withdraw it again. “Well-behaved and well-trained.”

The words did as much as the touch to incite my nethers. I tried to push back again, to take more of the shaft inside me, but the raccoon’s paw at my rump held me in place. With teasing slowness, Aura withdrew the shaft, then pressed it back inside me once more. “That’s it, little one,” she crooned, her words somewhere between soothing and cruel, fueling the need without sating it, reminding me of everything that had happened and making me all the more aroused for it. “You’re just an animal now, just someone’s pampered pet, being given a little treat.” Her rhythm increased, a new form of heat, urgent and insistent, spreading out from my sex as she began to thrust the slick rod over and over into me.

This time, when I bucked back against the shaft being driven into me, Aura made no attempt to hold me. I rocked on my knees, pressing back with my paws, head thrown back in bliss. Warmth spread through me, rippling up from my sex in wave after wave as I took the thick, slick intrusion. I moaned, shaking, tensing down against it as she withdrew and then relaxing as she slid it back inside. I shuddered, whimpering in time with the motions, each cycle of in and out, tense and relax, sending me that much closer to release. Through it all, the sage kept up her steady stream of words, a chant of a very different sort, filling my mind with thoughts of what I’d been, what I’d become… and how much I enjoyed it.

When the release finally came, it was a shock, like a sudden swell of pressure inside of me, a lightning flash of need that suddenly shot down my spine. I hadn’t even been expecting it; I’d become so lost in the moment, the sensation and the awareness of my own actions that I cried out, throwing back my head and jerking forward, arching sharply. I shook frantically, my whole body quivering, gasping for breath as that same flood of arousal washed over me. I panted, tense from eartip to toe, for several seconds, before sagging down onto my paws once more, muzzle back in the half-eaten bowl of fruit, surrounded by the scents of honey and my own nectar.

“Aw, good little pet,” Aura crooned, making me flush. She slid the shaft—a glass rod slightly thicker and longer than Mister Dion had been—and held it up for me to see, slick with my juices. “Did the baron’s new plaything have a good time?”

I nodded again, my cheeks burning. The need had, at least for the moment, been sated within me, leaving only a deep sense of embarrassment that bordered at once on shame and joy. This wasn’t the first time in the last week that the sage had done that for me, but it was the first she had been so blatant about my status, so specific in word and in action. Before, I’d been her student, learning how to use the body she’d crafted. In only a few minutes, I’d become less than her slave. It was humiliating… and yet, it had only stoked the fires inside to consider. Even just thinking about it sent an echo of that tingle through my nethers.

Aura chuckled, then clipped a lead to my collar and lifted the bowl with her other paw. “Good. Then let’s get you outside. One good night’s sleep on the ground should do you some good, and then in the morning we’ll be on our way to your new home.”

“So you’ve said,” I sighed. “Look, wasn’t there anyone else you could call to watch the server? Someone closer?”

He shook his head. “I’ve called Infinicom; they’ve got extra monitoring on the box, but they say they can’t physically stash somebody in front of it. John or I could; we’re both cleared for access to the hardware and the box belongs to him, but John’s not exactly capable these days. So, guess who? Right turn.”

“I heard you, Jules,” I said, signalling and then weaving back across to the left lane. “So, they’ll let you sit in front of the hardware but then what? You could stop them from pulling the server off of the shelf, but you can’t stop them from pulling the shelves down. They could cut the power. Hell, Jules, if you really want to explore these paranoid ideas, why not imagine that they’ve changed all the clocks? It wouldn’t even take that; they could have just lied about the time. Even if they didn’t, all it would take is one nervous operator hitting a switch too soon and—”

Jules’ right fist slammed into the window, making it rattle. “Damnit, Adam, I know you’re the voice of reason and logic and John and I are a pair of emotional freaks, but right now you’re not helping! I’m worrying about John’s survival and you’re telling me all the ways in which he might already be dead. Not cool.”

“As far as medical science is concerned, he died on the operating table three weeks ago.” The words were out of me before I really thought about them. “If whatever passes for Johnathan is still running in there, then….” My voice trailed off when I glanced over and got a look at Jules’ expression. “I’m… sure he’ll be fine.”

Jules didn’t respond to that; he just looked back down at his palmtop. “Parking garage on the right. We’ve got two minutes.” His seatbelt was off as soon as he heard the parking brake engage, and before I had the car locked, he was jogging towards the front of the Infinicom building. I had to sprint to catch up with him as he grabbed the door handle. Just as I approached, he jerked the door open, took two steps forward, and then froze. “Shit.”

Inside, four people in dark suits and visitors’ badges stood in the lobby, conversing and checking their watches. As the door swung wide, all four turned to look, staring directly at Jules and at me. They glanced back at each other, then turned to face us. The first, an older woman, took a step towards the door, her hand outstretched. “Miss Penrose? I’m Sarah Bellwether, Tadashiissei Security. Would you—”

That was all the prompting Jules needed. He started forward, his head down and his shoulders squared, trying to barrel past four security guards. “Ninety seconds, Adam.”

“Excuse me,” I said to Ms. Bellwether, stepping forward to run interference while Jules continued walking. “I’m Adam Watson, a friend of Jules’. He’s a little busy; can Iૼ” One of the guards moved to cut Jules off as he went around me, and I jumped to interpose. “Can I help you? Excuse me, but—”

Tadashiissei Security immediately started flanking, voices jumbling as everyone started trying to have the last word. “—don’t know who you are but—can’t let you—with us, please—out of the way!” Someone’s hand landed on my shoulder. Like Johnathan tried to show me, I grabbed it and stepped back, tugging the guard off-balance, then shoved forward. Instantly two more hands were on my elbows, wrenching them behind me, and one of them called out, “Grab her!”

“Jules!” I shouted, trying to wrest an arm free. “Run!”

Jules’ rapid footfalls were his only response, followed by another set as the last guard broke after him. I heard the beep of the door, and then the snap of the latch. A hinge creaked, and then Jules burst out swearing as the door slammed closed. “—get your… damnit… let go! Adam!”

Ms. Bellwether tried again, firm but patient. “Miss Penrose, would you—”

“No, you fuckers!” Jules’ outburst was instant and unrestrained; something had finally snapped inside of him. “And it’s Mister; now let go—” I heard a slam, and then a muffled curse. “—no right to hold me, I’m trying to—” A deep artificial chime resonated in the air, followed by a second a few moments later. “Ow, watch the*—Damnit! Adam!” He jerked his right arm free, then tried to elbow the guard holding him in the ribs. The security agent grabbed for him again, and the two ended up tumbling to the ground.

“Oh, c’mon!” I shouted, my words echoing off of the walls. “You can’t do this! You’ve got no right to hold us! Where’s Infinicom security?”

“They issued us the badges when we arrived,” Ms. Bellwether said, her voice tightening. “They were quite eager to help us, given our long-standing business relationship. We had probable cause to suspect both interference with contract and fraudulent conveyance. Don’t prove those assumptions correct; you’re smarter than that, Mr. Penrose.”

“Now you get it right,” Jules grumbled, barely more than a grunt. “I get it. You win, okay? I give up. Just… let me go check on the server, please. I’ve got some people I really care about in there.”

Ms. Bellwether’s expression didn’t change, but at least her tone softened. “Of that there’s no doubt, but my orders are clear. I’m to escort you to a conference room on the eighteenth floor if you’re interested, or out of the building if you’re not. Those were the options given to me, and I’m afraid that’s all I can offer to you. It’s your choice.”

“Conference room?” I asked, straightening. I tugged once, and the guards holding my arms let go. “But why?”

Jules followed suit, pulling himself free. “Does it matter? The rollback’s started.”

“Jules, I’m about fed up with your attitude,” I sighed, throwing my hands up in the air. “You don’t know the server’s status right now.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled up his palmtop. “Memory’s at a hundred percent, swap’s at ninety-eight, and disk operations are pushing the limits of the hardware. There’s nothing more I can turn off or disable that doesn’t put the box at risk. Somebody getting bored and trying to load a sparkler in there could bring down the whole damn box, and I hope nobody tries to see who else is online. I need to hot-swap some RAM into it so that doesn’t happen, and some more disk would be really nice, too. That enough status for you, Adam?”

My eyes went wide. “Okay, so… that might have been good to know before.”

Jules smirked. “Why? They’re all just simulations, aren’t they? They’re not real.”

“Excuse me,” Ms. Bellwether interrupted. “We should either take this conversation up to the eighteenth floor or out to your vehicle. Our security staff is monitoring the health of the server as well, Mr. Penrose. Now please, either follow me or have a nice day.” With that, she turned and started walking towards the bank of elevators. The other guards withdrew as well, one standing by the elevators and the other two taking up position near the badge-coded door.

I walked over to Jules and offered him a hand. “We might as well follow her.”

“Why?” Jules glared up at me but took my hand in his good one, then hauled himself to his feet. “What’s the point? They won. We lost.”

I threw my hands up in exasperation. “Jules, will you stop being so bloody digital? Look, is the server down?”

He pulled out his palmtop. “Ninety-nine percent. If it hasn’t gone yet, it will soon.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Jules!” I grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him forcefully towards the elevators. “It’s still running; that means you can do something. You don’t know what they want; if they wanted us gone, they’d have escorted us out by now!” I shoved him towards the open doors. “You’re just running on blind faith again! I swear, you and bloody Johnathan, both of you.” As I pushed Jules into the elevator, I turned to Ms. Bellwether and forced a smile. “He’s not normally this stupid, I assure you. He’s just angry.”

Ms. Bellwether didn’t response; she just pushed the button for the eighteenth floor. The elevator filled with awkward silence; Jules either glared at the floor or the back of the security guard’s head, who stood gazing impassively forward, ignoring both of us. I watched the light display as the numbers counted upwards, then glanced to the guard. As the door opened, she motioned to the hall. “This way. Hurry; you’re late.” Then she was walking quickly down the corridor, leaving me to half-urge, half-drag Jules behind me.

The conference room looked like any of the ones on campus, with a large table in the center and wheeled chairs around it. A wide display hung on the wall at one end of the table, with a camera mounted above it. A laptop sat on the desk, to one side of the monitor. As I guided Jules into a chair, Ms. Bellwether punched something into the computer, then quietly excused herself from the room and pulled the door closed behind her. The screen flickered once, then came to life, dominated by an animated Tadashiissei logo. The color-panels winked in and out in sequence for a few seconds, and then they faded, replaced by a remote signal from some other office. The window in that room was dark, and sitting too close to the camera was an elderly Asian man. He’d long since gone gray, his hair cut short in a Western part. A faint mustache sat on his upper lip, and he wore a soul patch beneath it. His glasses were thick, and a faint reflection of the camera glinted off of them. He wore a severe grey suit, with a dark green tie. As the camera focused on his face, he smiled warmly and raised one hand in a wave.

“Good evening,” the elderly man said. His smile was unnervingly broad. “I believe you wanted access to one of my servers.”

Jules shook his head wearily. “I don’t have time for this shit. Who are you and what do you want?”

It took a moment for Jules’ words to get to him, but once they did, his face darkened considerably. He sat upright, adjusted his tie. “My name is Kajō Kūsō. I own Tadashiissei, and by extension Irokai. You and your friends have been quite the nuisance.”

“Nuisance?” My voice rose, incredulous. “I can’t believe this! You let a major security breach put thousands of people at risk, you’re threatening our friend with deletion if he doesn’t pay your extortion fees, you’re threatening to wipe everything that’s happened just to stop the revolt your own policies started, and you’re calling us the nuisances?”

Mr. Kajō was visibly unimpressed. “I have no need to justify my reasons to you, but you may rest assured that I hold the future value of my company above all else. That means doing what I think is best for Irokai. We found a number of collaborators within Tadashiissei who are being dealt with at the highest levels, and after extensive review from our database and maintenance teams, the rollback was seen as the best way to protect overall system integrity. Your friend is presently obstructing our ability to protect our creation.”

“He’s too busy trying to protect his memories!” Jules burst out, jumping to his feet, his chair skittering backwards across the floor. “Everything he’s done since he uploaded himself… you’re talking about wiping it all out!”

“We must be sure there are no residual effects,” Mr. Kajō riposted. “Any one of them could be harboring viruses or malicious code.”

“So you’re saying you want to force them all to lose three weeks or more off their lives, just because they might have some kind of virus? You can’t just scan them or something?” I shrugged helplessly. “Is this really the only way to do this?”

Mr. Kajō made a faint shrug. “It’s the fastest, and the one that will get the system back up and running the fastest with the least number of long-term side effects.”

I smirked. “It won’t stop the protests; it’ll only make those worse.”

The smile that Mr. Kajō wore in response sent a chill down my spine. “With no-one inside who remembers, who will protest? Irokai will be on new software immune to the old attacks. Security has already been increased. For the residents, it will be as if none of this had happened.”

I folded my arms. “Mitsuko will remember, when Johnathan’s account gets suspended for non-payment of debts he won’t remember owing.”

Mr. Kajō’s smile faded slightly. “We are prepared to remove those debts from the record.”

Jules grinned. “Giri will remember, when he goes to work and finds he’s been fired.”

“His position will be reinstated,” Mr. Kajō replied. His eyes were narrowed again, and the smile was gone from his face.

I shook my head in response. “We’ll remember, because we’re not in the system having our minds wiped alongside the residents.” Mr. Kajō’s mouth opened, then closed again. “Not looking like the cleverest answer now, is it? Do what you want with your ones and zeros, but you can’t touch us.”

Jules’ eyes darkened as he pulled his palmtop out of his pocket, looking down at it. “Adam, the box is screaming. We don’t have time for this.”

I nodded at Jules’ comment, but I kept my focus on Mr. Kajō. He tried again to speak, then caught himself. He let out a tight chuckle, then smiled once more. “You realize that, by locking themselves off from the main system during the upgrade, they will be unable to return to Irokai. Their authentication codes will fail. Their accounts will be rejected as fraudulent. Until they accept the database rollback, they will be unable to leave that tiny, tiny box. How close is it to dying? The drives are over capacity, the memory is running out. Soon it will come down very gracelessly, and if the backup system is offline….”

“You’re a damned monster!” Jules shouted at the screen, slamming both hands down on the table with a grimace. “You’re a lunatic and you’re playing god with people’s lives! Tadashiissei’s done for at this point! If they don’t go down this time, they’ll go next time, or the time after! You can’t keep Irokai forever! One day it’ll—”

“One day Irokai will go offline, and not return,” Mr. Kajō interrupted, his voice sharp. “It is the way of all corporate services, is it not? Your friends should have thought of that before they turned themselves over to us. Now, if you have nothing further to say, I should check on the rollback.” His hand started reaching for the camera.

“Wait!” I burst out, waving at the camera. Mr. Kajō paused, looking at me, silent. I was stunned by my own outburst, but then I swallowed heavily. This is it. Make or break time. “Look, you could let that server go down. You could’ve let the hacks do their work. You could’ve let it all be wiped out, but you didn’t. You and Tadashiissei didn’t. You tried to save it, and now you’re trying to save it again, but you’re not asking the people you’re trying to save. They deserve a say in their own lives.”

“You forget,” Mr. Kajō faintly sneered. “I own Irokai.”

“Yes,” I admitted, “but you don’t own them. The residents. I’m not a lawyer; I can’t argue for the digitals. I know, though, that Imogen Franklin’s been ruled alive and well in there, and isn’t she one of your big celebrities? You’d hate to see something happen to her, wouldn’t you? Especially after all those efforts to promote her as a successful test case.” Mr. Kajō’s eyes remained dark and impenetrable, and I continued. “Please, this… this is real to her, to all of them, even if it isn’t to you. They’ve all got to be scared out of their minds in there. If that box goes down… if what you did to Johnathan three months ago wasn’t murder, then letting that server fail surely will be.”

For several seconds, Mr. Kajō was silent, then leaned briefly off-camera, exchanging words in Japanese with someone I couldn’t see. When he came back into focus, his eyes were still narrowed, but he seemed… eerily calm. “I have received word that the rollback has completed, and I have some things to consider. I will speak with my legal team. In the meantime, I recommend that you go to the server room and install whatever upgrades will stabilize that development server. I will meet you within Irokai in an hour.”

I shook my head. “No, I’m not going in there until I have some—”

Jules was already heading for the door. “Then you can be the one to guard the box; my hand’s still shot for now. For now, though, I need you to hold parts for me. We’re running out of borrowed time.”

I was suddenly struck by the heavy scent of rain in the air, but before I could do more than note it, Aura had one paw on my shoulder and was motioning to a spot in the middle of the room with the other. “Lie there, on your back. Arms at your sides, legs together.” My head bobbed and I shuffled to the point she had indicated, then lay down. As I stretched out on the floor, it felt almost as if I were lying half-inside the wood. Something tingled in the air, and motes of light glinted above me as rays of sunlight filtered in through the windows. I lifted a paw and brought it in front of my muzzle; the fur around my fingers glowed faintly, backlit by sunlight.

From somewhere out of sight, I could hear Aura moving around me, accompanied by the scratching of chalk on the ground and other, less familiar sounds. Metals and rocks clacked against each other, and something that sounded like grain falling from a burlap bag rattled in a steady rhythm for some time. I managed to lift my head to see Aura pouring something white and faintly glittery in a large circle around me. At intervals she knelt to scratch lines on the ground in chalk or place a crystal or small mound of powder. As I watched, the turned to look at me, her muzzle moving constantly, whispering words or perhaps just shaping the sounds with her lips. She nodded once in my direction, then motioned for me to lower my head, which I did, returning to gaze at the ceiling.

When she returned to stand over my head, the sound of falling grain suddenly stopped, and the dust motes grew brighter, catching the rays of sun and flashing as they drifted. The water-smell in the air strengthened, along with a familiar smoky scent—the incense, I realized after several seconds. By the time I’d identified it, though, Aura had already been walking around the circle, her voice resonating in the small space. The words were unfamiliar, some language I didn’t know, but the power in them was unmistakable. Her voice rose and fell in a near-constant song, not even pausing for breath that I could tell. The sinking sensation deepened as she moved, combined with that now-familiar heaviness in my limbs, to make me feel as if I were becoming one with the floor.

Finally, she returned to the start of the circle and dropped to her knees. At some point, she’d tossed aside her bedrobe, leaving her nude as she positioned herself just above me. Her singsong chant stopped sharply, and for several seconds she was quiet. Then, when she spoke next, I suddenly understood her, making me dimly wonder if she had changed languages again, or if she had done something to my mind. “From the furthest star to the tiniest speck, all parts of the Great Work share a connection, however tenuous, to all others. It is an endless tapestry, an unbroken weave that links the great and the small, the majuscule and minuscule. Here, within this unbroken circle, we bring together the above and the below, to make a change to a piece of the Great Work.”

The sage lowered her muzzle, and I managed to open my eyes to gaze up at her. Aura’s eyes, shadowed by the tilt of her head, looked like two pools of shadow swimming on her face; her face was absent any expression at all, a blank slate moving in her own sort of trance. “Are you ready, little light?”

That familiar warmth spread through me, and I sank fully into the floor, a slow grin spreading across my muzzle. I had long since lost track of my limbs. “I am ready,” I tried to reply, but what came out was more like a modulated yawn.

Aura’s head bobbed once in a nod. “Close your eyes. Picture yourself in your mind, lying on the floor. The lines have been drawn, the salts have been cast and the stones empowered. See yourself within the circle, body relaxed, complacent, and pliable. Warmth suffuses you, a tingling heat that fills you from eartip to toe. See yourself in every detail as you are today, as the Great Work has shaped you. When you can see yourself in your mind, say yes.”

My eyes closed, I focused on the image of myself in my mind’s eye, as if looking down from the rafters at the ritual taking place below. A rabbit of white fur, dotted with a few patches of black, stretched out limply on the hardwood floor, surrounded by intricate designs that seemed to glow in the dawn light. I squinted, focusing down on face, on chest and arms, legs and hinds. He looked as though he thought his expression should be blank; but it was clear he was enjoying himself; the rippling tingle that spread in waves through his entire frame; and the sinking, floating, falling feeling that had overtaken his mind. I saw his muzzle move, and the word “yes” floated up from within the circle.

Aura nodded again. “All things are connected. The turnings of the spheres entangle all lines with each other. The careful eye and the delicate paw, however, may tease a single skein apart from all others, and a vibration on a single line may send ripples throughout the Great Work. Within the circle, we isolate a single strand, that we may make changes to it and preserve those changes within the larger weave. Feel the heat spreading through your body, flesh and bone cerating, becoming as wax, soft and pliant. When you can feel your flesh ready to sculpt, say yes.”

The figure below opened his muzzle, panting softly. Beads of sweat blossomed across the linings of his ears, and a faintly glossy sheen spread across his fur. The heat made breathing difficult, but still it felt more like soaking in a warm bath, the heat saturating me throughout. He lifted one paw to study it; the fingers wobbled unsteadily before my eyes. “Yes.”

The raccoon’s tail hooked, then reversed, back and forth. She leaned forward, just up to the circle, and for a moment it seemed that she was pressing herself against some barrier between us. “Salts to separate, chalk to mark and guide. Ruby dust for Oshka, sapphire for Matska. Anise to bless, cinnamon to heat and stoke. Peppermint, motherwort, and clove. Bring your paws together, at your groin.” She spread her knees and leaned back, making a show of her own sex. “Sculpt what you see, shaped by others’ desire, driven by your need.”

As her words touched my ears, the heat within me became a palpable, living thing. It pulsed and shuddered, collecting in my paws and loins as I brought them together. With his eyes on her nethers and his fingers at my sheath, the rabbit began to stroke himself; the shock of sensation was overwhelming, intense in ways I had never imagined. He pressed harder against his sheath, and the flesh began to move beneath his touch. Each stroke and caress, each press and shape, sent a fresh wave of fire along my spine. The rabbit gulped, his muzzle agape, his tongue lolling as he molded his flesh, sculpting it to mirror the raccoon’s lips and opening. As one paw cupped over the newly-formed mound and one finger slid carefully into the freshly-crafted tunnel beneath, a lightning bolt passed through me, arcing up from the base of my groin to the top of my head. “Ye—es….” escaped the rabbit’s lips as the body within the circle spasmed.

“Good,” Aura said as she watched, her own eyes alight at the changes. “Very good. You’re well-trained to do as you’re told. Wormwood and violet, with licorice root to seal.” She held out her paws, her fingers curled tightly, her thumbs pressed tightly against the sides of her paws. “Fold your claws away, then mirror my paws with yours, a proper pet’s paws. Press them against the ground, to set them flat when you’re done.”

The heat and shock still fading from my system, the rabbit could barely manage a nod. Paws gingerly pressed claws down back into the shafts of fingertips, leaving only smooth flesh at their tips. Then fingers tucked against themselves, thumbs melding into the sides of paws as the rabbit squirmed his paws into the proper arrangement. As they pressed against the ground, the pads flowed through the merging flesh, until simple paws, just like any animal’s, sat at the end of the rabbit’s wrists. The heat was starting to fade, but that warm tingle still flowed upwards as the changes spread. “Yes.”

The sage stood, drawing in a deep breath. “Very good. You’ve done well. As all things have symbols to give them meaning, so is the name the symbol of self. The you that was brought a name with you into the circle, a unique name meaning you and only you. That name, and the you that was that name, I seal within the circle, within the you that is. When you are in this state, and you hear that name, you will return to the you that was, until you are restored to the you that is. That name, the you that was, I seal away within the you that is. Do you understand?”

The shock and heat was fading fast, a cool fog settling over my thoughts. I blinked, gazing up into the empty rafters. “I… think so, yes,” I murmured.

“Good. Very good.” The raccoon nodded curtly. “Within the circle, we separate one skein, one single strand of the Great Work, to make changes to it.” I heard hindfalls, then saw her walk to the foot of the circle, holding a wooden staff. “To weave those changes back within the larger pattern, we carefully part the circle. Salts divided, chalk split.” The tip of the staff thunked heavily against the ground, and then with a single thrust, she slid it through the circle and across one of the lines drawn on the floor. “Wake up.”

Whether it was the words or the sudden motion that snapped me back to full awareness, I couldn’t tell, but I felt a shock of self-awareness. My fur felt slick, and my pads were clammy. A chill ran up my spine and I shivered. “Cold,” I murmured, scrabbling up into a kneeling position. It took me a few tries to push myself off the ground; for some reason, I kept thinking my paws were supposed to be longer than they were.

Aura nodded; at some point, she’d pulled on her bedrobe again. “That’s little surprise,” she murmured, stepping over to the window. Outside, the sky darkened as the last rays of sun faded into the distance. “Aside from that, how do you feel?”

At the question, I whimpered slightly, aware of a strange tingling, burning sensation deep within me. “I feel… anxious? Needy? Like a hunger, but—” I blushed, ducking my head as I realized what it was. “It’s not hunger, ma’am.”

The sage chuckled. “Not precisely, no, but that would be a word for it. Once we’re done with a few basics, I’ll allow you what you need and start teaching you the rest. One question for you first, though. What’s your name?”

“It’s—” I stopped, blinking. I tried to recall, but I simply… couldn’t. I knew I should be able to remember something as simple as my name, and yet, the space in my mind where I imagined such things should be simply wasn’t there, merely a vast white fog. “I… I don’t know, ma’am. I’m sorry, I… should remember, but… I don’t.”

“No matter,” Aura said, dismissing the question with a wave of her paw. “It’s Taneh, but you’d have come to it in time, no doubt. Now rise and follow. You’ve had a long day already and supper yet to make.”

Through the windows, the sky was still dark with a scattering of stars when I first heard the thumping of the raccoon’s steps on the stairs. I stifled a yawn and forced myself out of the chair and onto my knees. Aura, still in a cotton bedrobe, stepped into the parlor and drew the cover from one of the witchlights. “It’s time to—oh, you’re awake.” She blocked a yawn with one paw, motioning for me to rise with the other. “I’ll start a kettle. Did you sleep?”

I shook my head as I stood. Every joint felt stiff and I could barely keep my eyes open. I stretched my arms wide, then blearily jerked my paw back as I bumped a shelf, sending a small stack of scrolls tumbling to the ground. “I’ll get that,” I mumbled as I turned.

“Don’t bother,” the sage replied, waving away the additional clutter with her paw. “I didn’t think you’d get much rest. No matter. Follow me.” She turned and tossed the cover back at the witchlight, casting the room back into darkness. Then she squeezed back into the cramped hallway, making her way towards the kitchen. I followed as best as I could, gingerly picking my way across the floor, trying to remember where the scrolls and other things had fallen. At one point, my hip met an overfull shelf, which sent a second cascade of books and scrolls to the floor, but Aura merely made another dismissive gesture.

The sage’s kitchen was eerily common, though it felt as cramped as the rest of her house. A stone fireplace took up most of an inside wall, and copper and clay pots hung from hooks on another. Earthenware dishes sat in a stack on the counter that filled the middle of the room, and a few simple wooden chairs beside it. A barrel on one side of the back door held water, and a stack of wood sat the other. Murky glass bottles and jars sat on any flat space that would hold them. As Aura entered, she freed the kettle from a hook over a pile of smoldering embers, then knelt in front of the coals. “Fetch me a log,” she said as I passed, and by the time I’d returned with one, she’d stoked the coals and some fresh kindling back into a cheerful fire. “Have a seat.”

Once she had water in the kettle, she moved to the counter and began rummaging through spices and herbs. As she opened each container, she tested the contents, pulling pinches of dried leaves or sniffing at droplets of dark liquids. She shook one jar, then sniffed at the yellowish cloud that escaped as she cracked its seal; almost immediately she began to sneeze, her tail lashing behind her as she scrunched her muzzle. As she proceeded across the counters, she added a few pinches of this or a few drops of that to the pot. Through it all, I sat at the table, watching half-dazedly as she made tea.

Finally, she seemed satisfied with her blend, and she put the kettle back on the hook over the crackling flames as they chewed through the fresh wood. “That’ll be a few minutes,” she murmured as she dropped into a chair beside me. “How do you feel? Nervous?” I yawned again and nodded, and she continued. “Understandable.” She chuckled and picked at one ragged sleeve with her claws. “I’ve no words to calm that, save that yours won’t be the hardest work I’ve ever done. Tricky, yes, intricate, but I’ve seen a—” She cut herself off sharply there, then waves her paw. “Well, I’ve helped with worse.”

I tilted my head to the side and leaned forward slightly. “You’ve seen what?” As soon as the words were out of my muzzle, I flinched. Aura had been so kind to me, I’d almost forgotten that I was a slave. Just a slave.

Aura made no immediate answer to either my question or grimace. “You’ll hear the stories, no doubt. You’ll be in the thick of it all; best I not muddle the issue with my side of things.” She grimaced. “What’s the memory of a spinster sage fetch at market?”

I lowered my head and voice, then risked a second question. “Is this about… Melka?”

Aura sat still for the span of several breaths, only her tail in motion. Her expression didn’t change, but it seemed that a wall had risen behind her eyes when she looked at me next. “It is, but she and I are history. You’ll be dealing with the present, and the past will only burden you.” She visibly forced a smile to her muzzle, but her gaze remained cool. “Besides, it wouldn’t do for a slave to be asking questions, now would it?”

I bit my lip at that and ducked my head. “No, ma’am,” I replied, chastened.

The raccoon chuckled and reached over to stroke between my ears as she stood. “You’ll do fine, I think, as long as you can keep your tongue in your head. Thankfully Dion didn’t ask for me to do anything about that. He seemed to think you ought to keep it. Can’t imagine why.” I flushed, and her chuckle became a full-throated laugh as she stepped over to the fire. Moments before her fingers touched the handle, it began to whistle, then stopped as soon as she pulled it away from the flames. She carried it to the table, then passed me a cup and filled it with hot tea. “Drink; it’ll do you good.”

I lifted the clay mug to my muzzle and sniffed; hints of pepper and cinnamon tickled my nostrils, as well as other floral scents and a hint of smoke. I blew across the surface, watching the shimmery liquid ripple, then gingerly sipped it. Despite the spicy scent, it tasted mostly sweet with a minty finish, and it coated my tongue on its way to my throat, then settled in the pit of my stomach with a cool tingle. I sipped a second time, then swirled the cup, watching the lights dance off of the surface.

Aura nodded encouragingly, then motioned for me to finish my drink. “You’ll be wanting another, I think. You’ve had a rough night and could use it.” As soon as I emptied the mug, I held it out to her, and she filled it to the brim. “Go easy on that one, but that should be enough. If you start to feel sick, let me know.” She set down the kettle, then stood and took a mug for herself.

I sipped at my tea, marveling at how it made me feel, so like the silvery glow of the twelve motes in the witchlight. My pawpads felt a bit clammy, but I shivered as if cold. My lips were starting to go numb, and I let out a quiet giggle at the sensation. I thought that the tea was supposed to make me more alert, but by the time I was halfway through my second mug, that leaden sensation was definitely seeping back into my bones. I wanted to yawn, but I didn’t feel tired, just heavy, as if I were staring into the sphere again. “Aura? Something’s… wrong.”

“What’s that?” the sage called from the back door. She stood leaning against the water barrel with her mug in her paw. “Something not to your liking?”

I shook my head, and the kitchen swam slowly in front of my eyes. “No, ma’am.” My tongue felt too big for my muzzle, its tip numb like my lips. “Do you feel it?” I tried to stand, but when I put my free paw on the table, I could barely lift myself. I wasn’t tired, and my head was clear, but my body wouldn’t respond to my thoughts. “What was… in that tea?”

“Tea?” Aura chuckled into her mug as she approached the table. “That was the first part of the ritual.”

Sickening awareness spread up from a sudden knot in the pit of my stomach. My ears still tried to shoot up in surprise, but I could barely move them. “What?”

The sage set down her mug, half full with clear water, next to mine. “You’re going to have to learn to pay more attention to what people say, little light.”

Warmth and heaviness hit me like an overstuffed quilt and pillow. As my eyes closed, my paw rattled the mug against the table. “I am ready,” I murmured, my voice weak and distant.

“Not yet, you’re not, but you will be soon,” Aura replied. “Finish your mug, then follow me. It’s time.”

The sage knelt on the table and lit a fresh stick of incense, blowing gently on its tip until it smoldered, the coal glowing brightly. Then she drew the drapery, casting the room into utter darkness. “Lift the cover, Stannis, and look into the light.” As I drew aside the cloth, she continued, her voice slow and even. “You’ve already been trained to do as you’re told, and you do it very well. Focus your attentions on the sphere and let everything else slip away. Get nice and comfortable, and let all your tension go. Deep breaths, in and out.”

As she spoke, I felt the now-familiar weight settling into my arms and legs. The world beyond the sphere fell away quickly, and the lights swam in front of my eyes. Soon, I couldn’t even feel the points where my elbows touched my knees; my focus had sunk into the lights, dancing among them. Even Aura’s words grew distant as I felt my senses fall forward, in among the witchlights. My breathing slowed, though I could barely feel my chest moving. My paws and hinds went numb, but then even that faint tingle faded from my awareness.

“Good,” came the voice in the distance. “You’re doing very well. You’ve been well trained to do what you’re told. You can see the lights moving, can’t you? Focus on them slowly swaying and moving within the sphere. You might feel like you’re in there with them, swaying and moving with them. Feel yourself growing brighter and brighter, swaying and moving, just like a little light. Count the lights, as you breathe deeply, in and out. Breathe in for one. Out, and two.”

“Three… four….” The numbers came slowly to me, each one in steady with my breath. The tingling and numbness spread as I breathed, as I counted, as I watched the lights dance and sway around me. I dimly felt my body shifting in place, rocking faintly back and forth as the glowing motes did, but the motion seemed very far away. I knew, from hours of repetition, how many lights the globe contained, and yet that number escaped me every time I sat before it. It was as if, gazing into its depths, my mind simply forgot all the times before that I had tried to count them, and I had to find them all anew. Even though I needed less time to find them all than when I first started, I still lost track of how many tries I took to exhale slowly and then whisper the word, “twelve.” As it left me, I fell silent, my words dropping away into the darkness.

“Very good,” Aura murmured. “How are you feeling?”

“Cold,” I replied automatically. “Trained. Relaxed.” I spoke softly, slowly but without hesitation.

“Good. Very good,” the sage replied. “You’re very well trained to do as you’ve been told. Close your eyes, but stay focused on the lights. Can you still see them, in your mind?”

My eyelids dropped as soon as she suggested it, but the lights still flickered brightly behind my eyelids, spinning and dancing around me. “Yes,” I said quietly. “Twelve lights.”

“Thirteen lights,” Aura corrected. “You’re one of those lights now, aren’t you? Glowing and swaying, spinning in that globe.”

I lifted my head, eyes still closed, but the lights remained in place around me, their motions undisturbed by mine. “Yes,” I repeated, feeling myself shift as I watched the flickering of the others around me.

“Of course you are, little light,” the sage continued. “When you hear ‘little light,’ this will be your signal to go back to being a little light dancing and swaying in my globe, surrounded by all the others. You will relax and focus, breathing deeply in and out. You’ve already been trained to do as your told, and you do it very well. When you hear ‘little light,’ you will go back to this state, a little light dancing and swaying in my globe. You will say, ‘I am ready,’ and then you will relax and focus, breathing deeply in and out.”

I nodded slowly, lowering my head back towards the globe. Twelve other lights swayed around me as I looked down at myself, fur shimmering. “Yes.”

“You’re very well trained, little light,” Aura said with a faint chuckle.

A chill spread through my limbs and my head drooped on my neck. The other lights in the globe swam around me as I shifted in place. “I am ready,” I said softly.

She chuckled again. “Very good, little light.”

Another tingling wave spread through me, and exhaustion seemed to spread through me. “I am ready,” I repeated.

“Good,” the sage said softly. “Now, let’s count down from twelve to one. Feel the heaviness lift as you count, feeling lighter and lighter, until you’re free of the weight and feeling refreshed. Twelve. Eleven.”

I nodded again. “Ten. Nine.” Little by little, I felt the weight in my limbs lessen and the sensation return to my fingers. They stung from having gone so numb, but as the word “one” left my lips, the sensation had mostly passed. I opened my eyes and blinked into the lights, then groaned slightly as I reached for the witchlight cover and draped it over the sphere.

Aura drew back the drapery, though only star and moonlight entered the room. “Very good, little light,”

Seemingly from nowhere, that familiar tingle spread through me out from my chest to my fingers and toes, from my ears to the tip of my tail. I slumped forward onto my paws and knees, my head drooping on my neck. “I am ready.” The words came unbidden, as did the lights dancing in my vision, and for a moment I startled at my response, eyes snapping open to peer into the gloom. “What—″

I thought I could hear the sage’s laugh in the thickening darkness. “Is there a problem, little light?”

The numbness seeped into my limbs as my chest rose, then fell again, tension fading from my body. “I am ready. No.”

Cloth rustled behind me, and then I heard soft hindfalls on the rug. “Lift the cover and look into the globe. Deep breaths, in and out.” Aura’s voice had grown closer, but softer, a bare whisper in the room. “Focus on the lights in the globe. Twelve lights, and you, little light.”

“I am ready.” I could barely move my arm as the next chill wave spread along it, but I managed to pull aside the cover. I gazed deeply into the witchlight. Twelve lights, and I.

“Of course you are,” said a voice. “Close your eyes, but stay focused on one of the lights, on yourself within the globe. Let everything else fall away once more. You’re already trained to do as you’re told, and you do it very well. Find yourself within the globe, one of the lights, and slowly draw yourself out of the sphere. Dance and sway your way to the surface, then carefully float free.”

Escaping the leaden sense in my limbs was difficult, but I felt myself gently spin and twist within the globe, the lights around me parting to let me pass. I had started near the center, the other flickering motes around me, but soon I felt myself bumping against something. Looking down, I could see twelve lights, but I wasn’t moving. “I’m trapped,” I mumbled. “Can’t… rise.”

“Yes you can,” The voice corrected gently. “You’re doing as you’re told, and you’re trained to do that very well. Breathe deeply, in and out. Relax and let the weight fall away from you. Don’t lose your focus on the lights, but let your limbs feel lighter and lighter. Feel the weight falling away from you, as you breathe deeply, in and out.”

I nodded slowly, relaxing again, focusing once more on the lights, watching them sway. Lights. Light. Lighter and lighter. The weight that had settled in me as I relaxed fell further away, and soon I felt myself rising once more, through the surface of the glass. As I passed into the open air, the process went faster, held down by less and less, until I felt as if I were floating like a leaf on the breeze, a single mote of light swaying and dancing in midair.

Cloth shifted again, and I felt a presence directly behind me. “Hold out your paws,” the voice said, very quietly. “Cup them in front of you, around the little mote of light.” I nodded and reached out, forming a bowl in mid-air. “Good, now, count down from twelve to one, feeling more and more aware with each count. Twelve, eleven.” We counted together downwards, until she said, “Open your eyes. One. Look at your paws.”

I blinked, then stared in shock. Sitting in the bowl of my cupped paws was a small mote of silver light, like a ray of moonlight trapped in glass. “What is—” My fingers trembled. “How…?”

Aura rested a paw on my shoulder. “I told you when I started that you would learn to see anything you were told to see. For me to know that you could, I needed to see it too.” She grinned, her tail hooking behind her.

I turned to look over my shoulder, my ears flat against my head. “Is this… alchemy? And what is this ‘little—’”

She squeezed my shoulder tightly and hissed an interruption. “Say it at your own risk; you won’t want just anyone knowing that phrase.” When I nodded, she relaxed her grip, her eyes shining in the flickering witchlight. “The changes I’ll be making require a willing subject who can help with the rituals. Training you in the basics of trance and putting that in your head will help ensure that I don’t need to worry about your compliance.”

I looked back down to the glimmering light in my paws. “Does this mean I could… learn to do what you do?”

Aura barked a quick laugh. “If you took another year to master what I’ve shown you and nine besides to survive your apprenticeship, perhaps, but I doubt your owners will want you knowing anything more than what you’ve already learned. Still, there’s other things you can train someone to do, once you have them in that state.”

I blinked. “Like what?”

The raccoon laughed again, this time more darkly. “If Dion has any say, I’m sure you’ll learn soon enough. That, however, is for later.” She cupped her paw over mine for a moment, then lifted it away, and the flickering light vanished. She lifted the witchlight and carried it to the shelf. “For now, we sleep. Tomorrow at dawn, we begin your preparations.”

Into that space, though, something had just entered that clearly didn’t belong. It was… I couldn’t tell what it was. One corner was squared, sharply, like a building block. The opposite faces were irregular, rippling and jerking like some kind of living thing. Its surface shifted colors rapidly, along with its shape, though the three edges of it remained consistent. Fragments grew and shrank in the air, fingerlike projections or completely separate objects that vibrated slowly before fading out or merging with the underlying structure. It didn’t even announce itself; one moment it wasn’t, and the next it was, letting out chirps and warbles seemingly at random.

“So what is it?” Imogen asked, her paws on her hips. “More to the point, where’d it come from? I thought you said this place was closed.”

“It is,” I insisted. I hesitated a moment, then added, “It was, anyway.” I opened my hardline and scanned through menus, looking for intrusions or malware, but each check came back clean. “I’m not seeing anything. Giri, any ideas?”

The fox shook his head, his tail lashing behind him. “I have checked it twice; even with your added permissions, it has no properties, no structure. It does not actually exist.” He scowled. “It reminds me uncomfortably of the FutureShock.”

I nodded at that. “Yeah, but Jules isn’t here, and he did the real hackery on that place.” I looked back at Imogen. “Let people know we’re poking at it, but truth is I don’t know.” I glanced at Giri, but the fox shook his head. I sighed; I wanted to tell her more, but Giri was right to advise against it.

The mouse nodded, then walked back towards the group she’d been addressing before. “C’mon, folks. Let’s go somewhere else and let these guys work. C’mon, everybody, make some room. Soon as these guys have things figured out, they’ll let us know.” She motioned, and despite the collective groans of about a hundred weary people, they rose and began to shuffle away, towards another part of the space. Before they’d even gotten a few steps, though, Imogen was back into her story, and it sounded like the others sank quickly back into the rapture of her narratives.

As soon as Imogen’s voice was down to a murmur, I looked back at Giri, voice low. “Any clue? I’m at a loss.”

Giri shook his head again. “The server is failing; that much is certain. Could this be a side effect?”

I stared at the shifting block and shrugged helplessly. “I have no idea. I can hack a bit on back-end stuff, but my job was always front-end components. Aesthetic, not functional. I’d need somebody like Jules or Briar for details, and even she might not know.” I sighed. “I’m afraid this is out of my league.”

The fox stared intently at the shifting image, a frown spreading on his muzzle. “It is growing.” He motioned with one paw to the object. “It has a second corner now.”

I looked where he indicated, tailtip hooking in frustration. “You’re right, it does. That still doesn’t tell us what it is, though, or anything else.”

“You know as much as I at this point,” Giri said. “I would have to do a deep dive to determine more, but I am not sure I would know what I am seeing. It does not appear to have definition, yet it is there. It is not anything, yet it exists. And it is still growing.”

I watched with fascination as a square, about a foot per side, slowly filled the space. The chattering and clicking that it emitted changed in timbre as, and the shapes that it filled rapidly took on the edges and corners. It looked almost as though someone were pouring luminescent, light-and-sound-reactive goop into an invisible mold that hung perfectly still in the air. It ratcheted up to the top of the space, and then, as if meeting an invisible lid, it leveled itself and then formed a perfectly shaped rectangle, about four inches tall.

As if cued by its completion, a shout rang out across the space. Heads turned, and Giri and I broke into a sprint towards the voice. Imogen beat us to the site and already asking questions of a visibly-upset black cat as we approached. “What is it? What happened?” She spread her drawl thick, resting a paw on her shoulder. “It’s okay now. Everything’s gonna be—” She stopped, then followed the cat’s pointing finger to a space in front of her in which letters and numbers hung in space. “Ah, hell.”

“It just showed up out of… hey, is that my—” She stopped, as the block started to echo her speech, but a scant moment before she spoke, as if it knew what she was about to say. The same words scrolled in space, in a vivid violet, starting cleanly at one point, then disappearing off raggedly off of another. Perpendicular to that, code fragments flickered. The area between them filled in rapidly as the cat spoke. “What’s it… it’s writing down what I say!” She looked at Imogen, then me. “Why’s it—it’s hard to… to talk with… with that. How is it… doing that?”

“I have no idea,” Giri said, spacing his words evenly. His words showed up a deep blue calligraphic script. “I find this even more disturbing, though.”

I nodded. “Me, too. It’s like it’s—” My own text looked like angular gold text, blocky and monospaced. “It’s… reading out of the—” I stopped, head snapping to Giri.

The security expert’s head canted to the side. “What? What is it?”

Imogen leaned forward and adjusted her pince-nez. “Yeah, you look like—” I made a quick cut-it gesture, dragging my paw across my throat, and she snapped her jaws shut, her teeth clacking audicbly; the sound showed up as a splat of red in the air.

I put a finger over my muzzle, then motioned for them to follow me. They exchanged glances but did so, stepping away from the fresh distortion. I looked back at it, then squinted and whispered, “test, test.” The midair text block flickered, and I sighed, returning to full volume. “Damn, never mind.”

“What?” The word was simultaneous from three muzzles. A cacophony followed, as they sorted out who spoke next, but Imogen easily overpowered both of the others. “Don’t leave us hanging, John; what is it?”

I pointed to the space as it swelled. “It’s a chunk of the speech engine. It’s… it’s how the graphics engine is rendering the speech engine.”

Imogen and the cat just blinked in confusion, but Giri’s eyes shot open in shock. “Are you sure, John?”

I nodded. “Pretty sure. I can’t think of any other way it would be getting that information.”

Imogen held up a paw. “You two lost me at ‘chunk,’” the mouse said. “Try again, in English.”

Giri jammed his paws into the pokets of his coat. “If John is correct—and I hope he is not—it is… a piece of Irokai’s underlying software that Irokai’s display system is attempting to render.”

“Okay, I get that,” the mouse said slowly. “But why? And what’s so bad about that?”

I looked at Giri, then back at Imogen. “It’s… listen, this plan… the server can’t hold everybody on here right now. I deleted everything I could, but I’ve still got more people on here than my development box can sustain at the same time. Everything we do, it all takes memory. Computer memory. Every thought, every action, it’s all computer code. It takes memory to execute, to tell who’s doing what. We’re running out of it. It’s—” I barked a laugh. “It’s the only limited resource we have… and we’re running out.”

Imogen blinked and canted her head to the side. “How do you run out? Nobody new is showing up. Nobody’s running anything, right?”

Giri shook his head. “It is not so simple. There must be a time delay between when a bit of memory is allocated to record that someone has done something, and when the bit that marked the past state is freed, to ensure that all systems have the new state. The more people, the more things are present, the more complex the interactions, the longer delay that must be to ensure safety.”

I nodded at the fox. “Jules explained it to me once, but he’s the genius on this stuff. The short form is that the system’s out of memory, and it’s out of backup memory, and there’s nothing left for it to use to store people’s actions… so it’s using whatever memory it can.”

The cat blinked. “You mean it’s…” She looked back at the block of code, then burst out, “It’s bigger! Oh, my god, it’s… there’s another one!” Her finger shot out suddenly, and I followed it to another patch of flickering graphics hanging in mid-air, some distance away.

I groaned. “It’s run out of everything else, so it’s using this space. And because it is, everything that happens on the back-end that shows up is rendering, and we’re all seeing it, so it’s changing the environment that much faster!” I looked at Giri. “This… this beats the Beni hack, by a long shot.”

Girl smirked. “I believe this is where Mitsuko would say, ‘oh, hai.’”

Imogen put a paw on each of our shoulders. “Okay, bad. What do we do? How do we stop it?”

I blinked. “Stop it? We can’t stop it. Anything we do makes it grow faster!”

The mouse’s eyes hardened, “John, that’s—damnit!” The cat took off at a run, over to a group of people, pointing and jabbering agitatedly at the distortions. They turned, then approached, and the volume spread as their words were echoed, then spread as they went to show others. “I swear, nobody learns around here,” she grumbled, putting her muzzle in her paw. “You and Giri work on this; I’m gonna go stop the deluge.” Then she clapped us on the back and followed the others. “Hey! Hey!”

I tuned her out, then looked back to Giri. “This is going to go to hell fast if we don’t do something. Ideas?”

Giri shrugged. “I do not know. I wanted to understand the way in which my world worked, but… now I am not so sure.”

I shook my head, then popped open my hardline. “There’s got to be something.” I started scanning menus. “Change the garbage collection speed.”

The fox shook his head. “Desynchronized actions and corrupted accounts.”

I scowled. “Cache dump.”

He shook his head again. “That would make the problem worse; we want fewer misses, not more.”

“Damnit, Giri, I want help, not—” I caught myself mid-outburst. “Sorry, sorry, this is… stressful. Suspend the whole system, wait for Jules.”

Giri nodded. “I… am unused to being afraid, myself. If we trust that, we should have trusted the rollback. Plus, we have no way to know if he will be able to restore us, regardless of whether he wants to do so.”

“Right. Damnit. I’m running out of options here.” My eyes flicked over hovering menu choices. “What about—” A scream cut me off, followed by another. I turned, then gaped. The cat that had run from the conversation had one paw on her other elbow, shaking and crying as she tried to pull her first out of a silvery box shot through with multicolored lightning streaks. One of the people she had gone to see had her by the shoulders and was trying to extract her; the other was backing away quickly, then suddenly turned and bolted.

“Help me!” the cat shrieked, blubbering. “Help me, please!”

That was the only spark the room needed. What had been a crowd instantly became a mob, people running in terror from the alien blocks and from each other. Some tried to help; others tried to escape. Of course, with all that commotion, the system needed that much more memory to render it all, and the only place it had left to find it was in here. Alien spires and fractal fragments began to materialize across the universe as the graphics engine seized more memory to try to display what was happening.

I looked back at Giri, eyes hard. “Space partition; cut the ceiling in half, buy us some more time.” The fox didn’t respond. “Giri, I need your opinion here. What about—Giri? Giri, what’re you doing? I told you, no loading!”

The fox had a sword in his paws; I hadn’t seen him with it when he’d arrived. Come to think of it, I didn’t remember him having one, but he held it balanced across his pads, his head bowed. “I… am sorry, John. It is the right thing to do. Please… give my apologies to Briar.”

I blinked. “Giri? Giri, what the hell are you—no! No, no, no!” I ran over to grab the fox by his lapels. “Don’t you dare quit on me!”

He smiled. “This is not abandoning the fight; this is giving you a little more time. It is… fitting. This is the role Tadashiissei wanted me to play, so I will play it. Good-bye, John-kun.” He drew the blade in a graceful arc from its sheath, then turned it in his wrist and, with a solid thrust, rammed its tip into his gut. There was no blood; he must’ve been too conscious of how much rendering power that would take. Instead he just… froze in place. He didn’t even crumple or fall. His body just stopped moving. His eyes were squinted tightly closed against the shock and pain, but on his muzzle was an almost beatific smile, his head upturned and his tail held high.

“Damnit!” I swung at the statue of Giri in front of me, but as my fist came in contact with it, a black square shot with angry red lines materialized around his head, wiping the smile off of his muzzle and catching my fingers in mid-air. “Shit!” I felt my heart leap into my throat as panic tried to set in. Screams and cries filled the spaces around me, interspersed with static and pure-tone beeping. Music rippled across the panel in front of me, notes making the lines wink on and off. A wolf grabbed my arm. Her eyes were gone; in each socket, a pair of luminescent letters glowed. She opened her muzzle to say something, but only the smell of violets and shift right two && call_function(vox, TRUE, #0xA1830128725E); came out.

Make or break(); time. There had to be something I could do. I wasn’t going to let this be LOOKUP_FAIL(memory()); NO_SWAP(memory());. Why couldn’t I think of anything? The rollback had to be almost done by now; we just had to hold out a little longer, but we couldn’t. The system would resync any minute now, and the database would offload its Atomic transaction(rollback) aborted mid-process; unable to write to log; but we couldn’t wait. We were out of time.

Time. Timing. open_menus(admin(TRUE)); Scan down to the system statistics. Find the Irokai services. It is a shame he could not come back, Mitsuko said. Lower priority. Lowest priority. Garbage collection. The scent of rotten eggs, the feel of something unpleasantly moist, and a charnal taste, overwhelming. Highest priority. Less action per time unit. More time for sync. Time.

Hopefully it was enough.

The sage shut the door behind me as I entered, then walked to one of the racks of books. “Take a seat, Stannis.” She lifted what looked like a heavy glass witchlight under a thin black sheet off of a shelf, then set it down on the rug in front of me. “I have to tell you, this is probably the last bit of kindness you’ll see for some time.” She climbed up onto the desk and reached for the heavy curtains. “The next few weeks will be difficult, even with your complete trust, and beyond that….” She stopped and lowered her head, her paws gripping the drapery. “No-one can know the future, but even I can see rough winds ahead for you.”

I sat cross-legged on the rug and rested my elbows on my knees. It felt good, if oddly embarrassing, not to kneel. It felt as though I were merely playing at being normal. “I know,” I murmured. “I didn’t choose this because I thought it would be easy.”

Aura looked back over her shoulder at me, her paws clutching the drapery. “Why did you choose it then?”

I shrugged and related the story of my father’s death and family’s hunger, faintly startled at my own calm. I remembered barely being able to tell the slaver that bought me. Looking back at it now, though, it seemed… sad, but not crushing. Had I made a mistake? Had other horrors made it seem less traumatic? Was this merely the passage of time? As I marched myself into the back room of the guildhall and put myself into the cage, I shrugged again. “It seemed the sensible thing to do, at the time.”

The sage was silent for a time, then bowed her head. “You’re a brave soul. I won’t say I’ve had it as hard as some, but I’ve seen my share of trouble, and I don’t know if I’d have faced your situation with the same grace. Hold onto that courage; you’re going to need it.”

I sighed, looking down at the wrapped witchlight. “Was it courage, or cowardice? When life became a burden, I ran from it. My family doesn’t even know I’m alive.”

Aura smiled gently. “When your life became something you didn’t want, you sought a better option. That decision isn’t easy.” Her voice softened and her shoulders stooped. “Some people never manage it.” Her words trailed there, but she leaned heavily on the desk as though under a burden. When she straightened again after a few moments, the tension from earlier had snapped back into place. “Right. You’ve had your rest, and now there’s work to be done.” She closed the drapery, and the room fell into near-darkness. A flame flickered briefly to life, and then the scent of incense filled the room before the coal disappeared again. “Time for trust, Stannis. Lift the cover, and look into the light.”

I nodded, then pulled aside the black drape shrouding the witchlight. Unlike most I had seen, this one was irregular, a cluster of soft silver motes that glowed within the glass, instead of a solid light. They weren’t enough to illuminate the room, but I could just see my paws when I glanced down at them. I scooted back on the rug, then leaned forward and rested my elbows on my knees to gaze into the sphere.

“Good.” Aura’s voice spoke out of the shadows behind me, but I couldn’t exactly tell where. “Deep breaths, in and out, focusing on the lights, deep within the sphere. Make yourself as comfortable as you can. You needn’t be still, but try not to move too much. Just focus your attentions on the sphere, on the lights deep within. Feel the air moving in your lungs, and try to slow it down, nice and slow. Deep breaths, in and out.”

As Aura spoke, my breathing slowed, but my focus was on the sphere, on the lights within. I could still hear her, but her voice seemed to be moving, or else in several places at once. “You’re already trained,” she continued, her voice rising and falling in a gentle lilt. “You know how to do as you’re told, and you do it well. Now you’re doing as you’re told, and doing it well. Continue your breathing, focusing on the lights. You could move, if you needed, but there’s no need; you’re nice and comfortable now. Yes, you’re comfortable and relaxed, tension fading rapidly. Deep breaths, in and out.”

I noticed, as I stared into the glass sphere, that my fingers and toes were beginning to tingle, as if cold, but the room was still warm. I wanted to ask what she was doing, but I knew better than to interrupt; for a moment, I worried that I wouldn’t be able to speak even if I tried. My eyes were fixed on the glowing silver lights before me, and I felt, strangely, as though I were falling towards them, even though I knew I was sitting perfectly still.

“Good, very good,” Aura’s voice continued in the distance. “You’ve already been trained to do as you’re told, and you’re doing very well.” Was she repeating herself, or was it just a trick of my memory? How long had I been listening to her? “You might see, if you focus, the lights begin to move, within the sphere. See them dancing for you, flickering slowly within the glass as you focus on them. The lights must be moving, because you’re quite still. You could move, but you aren’t, because you’re comfortable where you are, breathing deeply, focusing on the lights. So comfortable, so relaxed, no tension anywhere within you. Deep breaths, in and out.”

My fingers and hinds were quite numb now, and my pawpads and a small patch on my scalp had started to tingle. I felt curiously heavy, as if I were falling asleep, but my attentions were all on the sphere. I was dimly aware of the voice behind me, but listening was an afterthought. If I focused, I thought I could see the lights moving as Aura said. Was it my imagination? Had they been doing so all along, and I had only just noticed? Was this alchemy? The questions rose, but then drifted away as I tried to catch one silvery mote or another shifting within the sphere without pulling my attention away from the others.

“Very good,” came the voice, rising and falling behind me. “You’re doing very well, Stannis. Count the lights, as they move. Starting at one, count them slowly, in time with your breath. Deep breaths, in and out. Breathe in, and one. Out, and two.”

At the edges of my vision, the world had gone black; all I could see now were the lights, dancing slowly within the glass sphere. “Three… four… five… six…” The words fell from my lips, faintly slurred, as if from exhaustion, each in time with the rise and fall of my chest. I felt leaden, and briefly the rhythm of my breathing faltered as panic hit me; what if couldn’t move? After my brief start. though, I felt myself sinking back into the steady rhythm. “Seven… eight…” How many lights were there? My eyes flickered around the glass, briefly, and suddenly a flush hit my cheeks as I realized I couldn’t remember with which one I had started. “One… two….”

Did Aura chuckle behind me, or did I just think she did? “You’re doing very well,” she said softly. “How are you feeling?”

“Heavy.” The word was out of me without thinking about it. “Cold. A little scared.”

“You’ve no need to be scared,” Aura corrected softly. “You’re doing what you’re told, and you’re doing it well. You’ve already been trained. How many lights are there?”

“I… I don’t know.” My eyes were focused on the glass, but the number escaped me. I tried again to count them, but by the time I had reached five, I had forgotten which was one or two, and I stopped. “I don’t know.”

This time, the chuckle was definite. “There are twelve lights within the sphere, Stannis. Twelve lights. Let’s count them together, one to twelve. Deep breaths, in and out. One. Two.”

“Three,” I echoed. It took several tries to count them all; I would miss a number, or forget to breathe, or stir, and Aura would interrupt with some correction. Each time, we would start together again at one. By the time the word “twelve” was out of my muzzle, I had forgotten how many times I had tried to reach it. When it left my lips, I fell silent, chest rising and falling slowly. The urge to continue, to say thirteen, fourteen, rose but then it too faded. It felt as if my thoughts had simply drifted into the darkness around me, leaving only the lights in the glass. Twelve lights.

“Good,” said Aura. “Very good. Close your eyes, Stannis. Can you still see the lights? Can you see them, in your mind?”

“I—” I tried to picture what I had just been seeing, but at best it felt like faint impressions. I knew that I wanted to see them, but I didn’t think I truly could, not with my eyes closed. “Perhaps, but… I don’t know.”

“That’s fine.” The sage’s voice was soothing, comforting. “In time, you will. Let’s count down, twelve to one. Feel the heaviness lift as you count, feeling lighter and lighter, until you’re free of the weight and feeling refreshed. Twelve. Eleven.”

“Ten. Nine.” My breathing eased as I counted, the tingling fading from my paws, until we spoke “one” in unison and I opened my eyes. The points where my elbows had rested against my knees hurt from the weight I had put on them, and my back ached from the position in which I had been sitting. I let out a whimper and shifted up onto my knees, rubbing at my calves.

Light flooded back into the room as Aura opened the drapery, then snuffed the incense she had lit. “How do you feel?”

“Sore,” I replied. “And… scared. I actually thought for a bit that I had forgotten how to move, that I’d been frozen in place. What… what did you do to me?”

The raccoon shrugged and hopped down from the desk. “I told you, for what I’ve been tasked to do to you, I need you to respond to instruction without hesitation, without even knowing you’ve done so. By the time I’m done with you, not only will you see those lights in your mind, but you’ll see anything you’re told to see. Once you can do that, the real alchemy will follow.”

I caught myself shivering and forced myself to breathe slowly, regularly. My fingers felt numb, and my chest hurt. I was scared, in ways I hadn’t been in months. At the Blue Moon, I hadn’t been happy, but at least I’d been safe. Once I’d learned my routines, everything had become habit. I could trust that given day would be much like another. Now, though, I had no idea what was going to happen to me, and it shook me to the bones. I felt fairly sure my life was safe, if they were going through all this effort, but beyond that, little of what Mister Dion and Aura had discussed had made any sense, and I was feeling very lost, and very frightened. I tried to quiet myself, to get my heart under control, but the calm refused to return.

Fortunately, I soon heard a door open, and Aura’s voice suddenly grew louder. “… right bastard, Dion; that hasn’t changed.” She pushed her way into the room, then leaned on the back of the chair beside me. “So, I’ll have him to you as soon as I’m done with him. It should be three weeks; but it won’t be less and it could be more. It’s all in how pliant he is. Half in a week, regardless of his state, and half when I bring him to the baron. Agreed?”

Mister Dion walked up to my side and bent to take my leash. “Agreed.” He then held out his other paw to her.

Aura took the proffered paw, but her fingers clenched tightly around the vole’s, her eyes narrowing. “See to it that you keep to your end of this, Dion,” the sage half-growled. “You won’t enjoy the consequences if I have to come looking for what I’m rightfully owed.”

The vole let out a gasp, his breath audibly catching in his throat. “Yes, yes, I agree.” His voice was even fainter than normal, barely a whisper that he seemed to struggle to make.

“I know you do,” the raccoon continued. “You haven’t any choice in the matter.” Her other paw closed around back of Mister Dion’s, and the vole began to visibly shake. “Covenant made, Dion, son of Lazlo, of Barony Deterikh, and sealed until kept or broken. For your sake, it had better be kept.” Then she bent and pressed her muzzle to the back of her paw.

Mister Dion cried out and jerked his fingers free of the raccoon’s grasp as if yanking them from a fire. “What… why in the stars?”

Aura smiled, but her eyes remained dark. “Consider this a promise, that you’ll have the results you want. In exchange, I’ll have the guarantee that you’ll actually return with my coin, and that when I arrive at the gates, you won’t let Datsia’s guards fill me with arrows while you escort your present inside. Now, I believe our business is done here, and I have work to do.” She took the free end of my leash from Mister Dion’s other paw. “If you’ll excuse me, you know the way out.”

For once, my owner seemed at a loss for words. He half-stumbled backwards, hastily bowed and doffed his cap at the parlor door, then turned and practically fled for the front door. After it slammed shut behind him, the sage bent and unclasped the leash from my neck. “I thought he would never leave. I hadn’t planned on a houseguest, but we’ll make do. Up with you. What’s your name?”

I rose but kept my silence, knowing what I’d been told of names. Several seconds passed before Aura put a paw on my shoulder and turned me to face her. “Listen to me, boy.” Her voice had regained a hint of edge to it. “No doubt you’ve been well-trained to do as you’re told, but as of now, that won’t be enough. To do all the things that I’ve been asked to do, I’m going to need the kind of response that comes from knowing what to do without having to be told. To get that from someone who doesn’t know the first thing about what’s happening….” Suddenly, her posture shifted; it wasn’t a change in stance or position, so much as a sudden release of tension throughout her entire figure. A smile, genuinely warm and tender, settled on her muzzle, and she held out a paw to me. “You’re going to have to trust me.”

I blinked, ears flat against my head, looking down at her proffered paw in confusion. Then I grasped it in my own, clutching it like a holdfast in a storm. “It’s… it’s Stannis, Miss Aura.”

“Just ‘Aura’ is fine for now,” the sage corrected. “Stannis, good. Follow me, Stannis.” She teased her fingers free of mine, then turned and led me past the overstuffed shelves, then up the stairs and down a short hall to an open room with a hardwood floor. In front of one window was a tube on some kind of makeshift stand. A desk and chair sat in front of that, with an open notebook and charcoals. In the middle of the room was a low circular table covered in symbols; atop it sat several smoked glass spheres, each engraved with another mark. Charts upon charts of tiny symbols hung from the walls, and what space wasn’t covered in those held still more stacks of books and scrolls. Faded and scuffed chalk lines criss-crossed the floor. “What was your father’s name, and do you know when you were born?”

I stood near the doorway, transfixed by the sight. As soon as I crossed the threshold into the room, the air smelled of rain, and a tingle lingered in the space, like a warm breeze after a thunderstorm. “Jedrik, mi—Aura.” I shook my head; had I really adapted to my condition so quickly? “It was… midsummer, eighteen years ago. A day before services, my mother said.”

“Eighteen… yes, here.” She ran a clawtip along one shelf, then pulled one of the books. “A day before services in midsummer.” She flipped pages quickly, then started scanning through it. “Had the early harvest started yet?”

I bit my lip, trying to remember what I’d been told. “I’m not sure I know. Father used to joke of being scolded for taking me out for raspberries off the bush before I could open my eyes.”

Aura nodded in response, then flipped another page. “Ah!” She rapped a knuckle against the book. “Bless Iladin and his pedantry. Fourth of Lipi, first bushel of raspberries in the market square. They’d have been harvested a few days before, so services on the last day of Chervi, which puts on you on the twenty-ninth. Remember that, Stannis.”

“The twenty-ninth of Chervi,” I repeated. “Okay, but… why? And who is Iladin?”

Aura hefted the book as she walked over to one of the charts on the wall and ran a clawtip down its length. “He writes almanacs and keeps one of the strictest diaries in Deterikh. If you need to know what day something happened in a given year, he’s the one to ask. So, that said, let’s see… fourth of Lipi.”

“Twenty-ninth of Chervi, miss,” I corrected.

The sage grinned at me over her shoulder. “Good, you’re learning, but don’t call me ‘miss’.”

I blushed. “Yes, Aura.”

Aura’s grin spread and her tail hooked in amusement. “If you’re really this quick a study, you’ll do fine.” She grabbed the open book and a stick of charcoal off of her desk, then made some quick notes before walking back to the symbol-laden table. She took the glass spheres and began placing them around the edges. Once she was done, she stepped back and cupped her muzzle in one paw, crossing the other arm around her waist. She stared at the arrangement for some time, then finally waved at it. “Interesting, but it tells me what I need to know.”

I hesitantly stepped forward, wincing as my shackles rattled noisily on the hardwood floor. “What is it?”

“Hmm?” The raccoon’s head lifted, and her eyes went wide. “Oh! Oh, heavens. Those won’t do.” She looked around the room quickly, then walked out the door. “Stand there, don’t move.” She was back a few moments later, carrying a kerchief and a vial. She knelt beside me and daubbed a few drops from the glass tube onto her cloth, then carefully folded it and rubbed at one of the links near my ankle. After a few moments of vigorous polishing, I heard a clank, and I looked down to see the end of the chain sitting on the floor! The other side vanished as quickly, and then she stood behind my back and did the same for the bar on my manacles. “There, should have done that an hour ago.”

I rolled my shoulders, trying to work some of the pain and numbness from them; they burned, but it was a good burn, an ache of use after being still too long. “Thank you. But… why? How did you do that? And what did you do to Mister Dion?”

Aura shook the vial in front of me. “Sage’s water; it dissolves metals, but naught else. I told you you would have to trust me; that’s easier to earn than demand. As for Dion….” She grinned and shrugged. “I promised him I’d do what I said, and I gave him a reason to do the same. When you don’t know what alchemy looks like, any ritual can be a powerful one if it’s done right.” She punctuated her words with a faint snort and a giggle, tail waving.

I stared, muzzle agape for a few moments, then burst into laughter. After so long, that moment of humor felt like a crack in the wall holding back a flood of emotion. Soon I was on my back, covering my muzzle with my paws, cackling and gasping for breath. For several minutes, all I could do was laugh and marvel at the events that had brought me to this point in my life.

As the spasms subsided and I wiped the tears from my eyes, Aura approached and held out a paw to me. “Do you think you can trust me, Stannis?”

I nodded and took her paw in my own. “Yes, Aura.”

“Good,” she said as she pulled me back to my hinds. “Then we can begin.”

Matska and Koshki had already set and the sun had begun to rise when the carriage stopped. I still hurt from the night before, the night air was damp and chill despite the spring, and my rump had started to go numb from the hard wooden bench, despite the thick cushion. With the manacles on my wrists, my choice of positions had been sitting on the edge of the seat and leaning back against the iron bar, or returning to the floor of the carriage where I had already spent enough time. In the end, I had fallen asleep sitting sideways, shivering, with my hinds on the seat beside me and my head against the opposite wall. At the knock at the door, I let out a groan, but between the aches and the cold, I could barely move.

On the third knock, Mister Dion’s eyes cracked open. “Morning so soon?” he murmured, his voice even wispier than before; he sounded as though he could still use another hour’s nap. Still, he yawned and stretched, tossing aside the blanket. “Up, up,” he said to me as he fastened his pants.

It took several tries to get back on my hinds. Neither hinds nor knees wished to move at first, and my shoulders burned from their confinement and awkward position. Throughout my efforts, Mister Dion did nothing to help, he merely freed his leash from the wall and stepped down onto the ground, waiting with his paws on his hips and a frown on his muzzle. As soon as I was standing, he tugged firmly on the lead and then began walking, making no effort to wait for me as I stumbled out of the carriage, nearly falling in the attempt.

Mister Dion’s driver had parked the carriage at the bottom of a low hill, next to a winding path that led to its crest. Sitting atop it, in a sparse copse of trees, was an imposing two-story manor. Most of its windows were dark, but one lone light shone against the backdrop of breaking dawn. A waist-high wall of stacked stone ran around the base of the hill to either side, and a wooden sign at the opening in front of that announced clearly, “By Appointment Only.” The vole, however, strode past the warning, half-dragging me behind him.

A heavy knocker hung from the front door, which Mister Dion banged impatiently. He waited a few moments, then repeated the demand. Soon after that, hindsteps approached, and then the door flew open. On the other side stood a plump grey-furred raccoon rubbing at one eye with a paw. The robe she had hastily thrown around herself was likely once a deep wine, but a life of washing and wear had long since faded it to a dusty rose. With her uncovered eye, she visibly glared at the vole standing on her porch. “You’ve still not learned to read, then, Dion?”

“A pleasant morning to you as well, Aura,” Mister Dion replied, ignoring the jibe and doffing his cap. “It’s always a pleasure.”

“For you, perhaps,” Aura said. She glanced past Mister Dion, then back. “What’s his story?”

Mister Dion turned, looking at me sharply, then looked back to the raccoon. “That’s why I’m here. I was hoping for some of your help.”

Aura made no move to invite either of us inside. “Did Datsia send you?”

My owner coughed politely, covering his muzzle with one paw. “Captain Datsia wouldn’t approve of it; you know that.”

The raccoon’s muzzle bobbed upwards sharply. “That’s why she had to have sent you; you wouldn’t dare bring yourself here elsewise.”

Mister Dion forced a laugh at that. “Well, well. You haven’t changed, Aura. Sadly, your young charge has, which is why I’m here. Surely even you’ve heard by now.”

Aura’s eyes narrowed, and she pulled her robe more tightly around herself. “I’ve heard. I don’t believe a word of it.”

“Believe what you like,” Mister Dion lilted with a shrug. “If you’re not interested in helping, I’ll be on my way.”

The two stood off against one another for several seconds, across the gulf of the raccoon’s door. Then suddenly, she turned, tail lashing beneath her robe as she padded back up the staircase to our right. “Into the parlor with you; I’ll be with you after I put a kettle on.”

Inside, the manor was crammed to the rafters with books and scrolls. Shelves covered the walls, and bins lined the floor. Here and there among the stacks were knick-knacks and trinkets, odd bits of metal or crystal or stone. Animal skeletons strung together with wire shared space with star-charts and maps of the winds. The narrow hall wound past the stairwell and into a small parlor filled with more texts and artifacts. Several padded chairs sat clustered around a small table, and covered witchlights hung from sconces stationed among the piles. Mister Dion pulled me close on the leash and said softly, “Sit, and touch nothing.” All the humor was gone from his voice. “Anything in this place could be dangerous.”

Lacking any other options, I knelt beside Mister Dion’s chair, bowed my head, and waited. The air was still and dry, filled with dust and a number of musty scents that defied description. When a tickle in my nose made me cough, the room echoed with the sound. I shifted uncomfortably on my knees, while Mister Dion contented himself by playing with my leash. Several minutes went past before Aura returned, squeezing into the room past her books. She’d changed into a red blouse and brown skirt, and around her neck hung a chain from which dangled a heavy silver medallion set with a number of small crystals. “Kettle’s on. So what’s this about Erik?” Her voice was brusque, but there was genuine concern tucked away inside of it.

Mister Dion grimaced and shrugged. “It’s not the baron himself, so much. It’s Jazinsk. There’s been much talk of light harvests over the border; you’ve heard that much, I’m sure.”

Aura scowled. “I’ve heard, and seen. Lots of full wagons leave from here, and only a few come back full. The mining’s been good, so I hear, but you can’t eat metal out of the ground. That doesn’t cover Erik, though.”

“Patience, patience.” My owner chuckled softly. “You really haven’t changed, have you?” He sighed. “The truth is that ever since the baron appointed me envoy to Jazinsk, I’ve heard a number of cold words. There are some in the court that still blame him for his mother’s death, and—”

“I asked you of Erik, Dion,” Aura interrupted sharply. She dropped into a chair and crossed one knee over the other, smoothing her skirt. “I don’t want to hear of Melka; there’s nothing more to be done for her. Keep yourself focused.”

Mister Dion rolled his eyes. “I am focused, Aura,” he said drily. “You wanted to know about the baron and how he’s changed. Before I can tell you that, I have to explain what’s happened. You’re not at the court any more; you don’t have all the information. Now, may I finish?” At Aura’s quick head-bob, he continued. “So, as I was saying, a fair number in Barony Jazinsk’s court still bear a grudge against Deterikh, and now they’ve had a heavy winter to compound their troubles. I just came back from their court, where a fair amount of harsh language was leveled in my direction, including subtle accusations of their hardships all somehow being our fault.”

“Fools,” Aura grumbled, shaking her head. “As if we could control the weather. Not for lack of interest, mind you, but it’d take more alchemy than the whole of the barony could muster.” She shrugged. “Continue, please.”

“Of course, of course.” Mister Dion smiled and sank back into his chair. “The Jazinski are asking the impossible, of course, but therein lies the issue. Our relations with them have been on rough ground for some time; this has only made it worse. Baron Deterikh’s father passed on, and in the wake of his death, there have been… grumblings… around the court.” He rested he elbows on his knees and steepled his fingers before his muzzle. “You’ve heard, I’m sure, that he’s pressed three more squads into service, and right before planting season.”

“I had, yes.” Aura’s voice lost some of its edge. “I wondered why.”

The envoy shook his head. “I doubt there’s any need to wonder. Sharp tongues are rattling, and swords may follow. It’s all well and good to defend ourselves, but I fear the young baron may be seeking to prove himself, to the memory of his father or his own sense of incompleteness, I don’t know.”

Aura’s eyes narrowed once more, but her voice stayed even. “So why the slave?”

“Oh, yes.” I felt Mister Dion’s gaze on top of my head, but I kept my own eyes carefully downward. “I wanted to make sure the young baron’s temper had an appropriate outlet. If having a ready means to cool his passions means sparing us a war, I’m all for it. That’s why I brought him to you; I’ve some… changes… I’d like you to make to him.” That made my cheeks flush and my ears redden.

The words brought a dark chuckle out of the raccoon. “I can only imagine what you might have in mind. Dion, consider. You’re asking me to put my skills to work for you after the Deterikh court told me my services were no longer needed. What makes you think, even for a moment, that I’d be willing to help you?”

Dion’s voice fell to a near-whisper. “Aura, I’m asking you to help me give Erik a target for his anger so that we don’t have to worry about him taking it out on our neighbors and dragging us into a war that neither side can afford. You know he’s conscious of his heritage.” His paw touched the back of my head. “This one’s Jazinski and ought to serve as a good substitute for Erik’s political ambitions, and given this one’s parentage, there shouldn’t be any… confusions.”

Aura’s eyes flashed in response. “I told you to leave Melka out of this, Dion. I won’t warn you again.” She sighed and rose from her seat. “Fine, you’ll have my help. The kettle’s surely ready by now, and I’ve got plenty of tea. Tie him here and follow me into the kitchen; we’ll discuss what you want done with him.”

I frowned, then checked through my contacts list; I had several entries for Julia already, mostly e-mail or some messaging service or other that she’d used once or twice, then forgotten. I hit reply, then thumbed, Julia? What account is this?

Long story, came the quick response. please answer. A few seconds later, the palmtop began to buzz once more, showing an incoming call.

I snapped the cover closed and held it to my ear, looking at it curiously. “Julia?”

“Close enough,” an unfamiliar voice—quite distinctly male, deep and rumbling—replied. “Listen, Adam—”

“Who is this?” I demanded.

“Adam, this is…” The voice suddenly dropped to a whisper. In the background I could hear some kind of muffled commotion. “This is Julia,” the speaker continued incongruously. “I’m in Irokai. I need your help.”

“Irokai?” I pulled the palmtop away from my ear, looking at it dubiously, then brought it back. “That’s very funny. Who are you and what do you want?”

Whoever was on the other end of the phone growled menacingly. “Damnit, Adam! I need your help!” The caller’s voice started rushing. “I’m running a hacked account on a grey-market rig, I’ve got an IV jammed in my arm, I can’t wake myself up, and I need to be at the Infinicom building in half an hour! I don’t have time for guessing games! What do you want? You’re allergic to uncooked tomatoes, you hate mayo, and you’ve got a birthmark on your left shoulder. If you want a detailed list of your eleventh-grade teachers, I can do that, too, but I don’t have the time.”

I looked at my handset again, then said, more quietly. “It’s on my right shoulder, and who did I have for physics?”

“You didn’t take physics in eleventh grade,” Julia snarled. “You had Reidel for Chemistry II. Are you happy now? twenty-nine minutes.”

“That’s cutting it close,” I said as I rose, motioning to the waiter for my bill. “What is it you need me to do? Come and… unplug you?”

“Yes, thank you.” Julia’s voice sounded infinitely relieved. “Call me when you get to the front door of the building. I’ll walk you through it from there. Use this contact.” Then the phone went dead.

I hastily exchanged my phone for my wallet, then shifted impatiently from one foot to the other as the waiter took his time in returning my credit card for me. My eyes snapped repeatedly to the clock on the wall, but the numbers steadfastly reminded me that, by her time tables, I had twenty-seven minutes to save her from herself on the way to whatever errand was so vital. The drive to her apartment building wasn’t any slower than normal, but my breath caught in my throat every time I tapped on the brake. Julia’s building had visitor parking, but of course today of all days, the lot would be full; another three minutes vanished as I searched for a place to deposit the car, then jogged back to the front door.

I pulled my phone back out of my pocket and hit redial, then tapped my foot, waiting for the answer. “You’re late,” Julia replied as soon as she answered. “The code is 22361.” I punched in the numbers, then tugged open the door when it beeped at me. The elevator took its time getting to the lobby, disgorging a small gaggle of housewives on their way to lunch. The ride to Julia’s apartment was an uncomfortable silence, punctuated only by the occasional noise in the background of the call.

“Julia, what’s going on in there?” I asked as I watched the light at the top of the car tick slowly upwards.

“I’ll explain when I’m out,” she replied. “My front door code’s 161803; mind the table in the dining room.”

When I entered her door code, the deadbolt clicked open. “Lights, on,” I said, and the room lit with LED lamps. Discarded clothing lay strewn across the floor, and an unsorted pile of mail sat on the corner of the table on my left, directly past a kitchenette. To the right sat a glass sliding door out to a thin balcony. Directly in front of me lay the bathroom, but next to it on the right was a closed door. “Is that the bedroom?” I asked as I walked to it.

Julia grunted. “Yeah. Come on in, but don’t yell at me.”

“Julia, why would—” I stopped dead as the door opened. Behind a giant mahogany desk that seemed impossibly large for the cramped space, Julia’s body sprawled, nude and corpse-like, in a leather executive chair that had been locked in a recline. Her head was at least supported by a thin pillow, but her right arm and legs hung over the arm rests and the end of the seat. Her left arm, she’d secured with cloth tape at the wrist and elbow, and a strip of gauze covered the back of her hand, where she’d inserted a needle. A length of clear plastic tubing pinched with a garden clamp ran from Julia’s hand to a hot water bottle hung from a coathanger on a portable clothes rack. A plastic mesh covered her head, sending a rainbow of wires slithering under her desk. Her eyes twitched rapidly, and she was breathing, but a thin sheen of sweat covered her skin, giving her a ghastly pallor.

“What the hell were you thinking?” The words burst out of me as I stormed over to her body.

“I wasn’t,” she replied, “and I told you not to yell. It was a fuck-up. John’s already screamed at me, and double jeopardy’s against the law.” She’d gone into pedant-mode, artificially calm and reasonable. “Are you going to help me or what?”

“Yes, but not because of you; this is a travesty of medicine.” I switched my phone to speaker and set it on the desk, then started loosening the tape on the back of her hand. “Where did you get all this?”

I could just hear Julia ticking off the words on her fingers as she spoke. “Sixteen-gauge needles online, along with instructions for the solution. Tubing for a fishing-tank aerator at a pet supply store, enema bottle at the pharmacist’s. Hangers and the rack at the boxmart. Stop messing with the meat and look at the screen. I need you to shut down the induction rig.”

“One moment; first, I—hell! You’ve blown the vein! Where’s the rest of this gauze roll?” I pressed on the back of her hand as the puncture site began to ooze, grimacing at the way the swollen flesh dented under my touch. “Did you sterilize any of this before you embarked on this little escapade?”

“Boiled everything but the gauze and tape,” she replied, her voice even more distorted over the palmtop’s speakers. “I’m no tyro, but it’s been years since I had any reason to practice. Now look at the screen. Just jiggle the mouse; it’ll light up.”

“Spare me,” I grumbled as I worked the tape from around her elbow. “Don’t tell me you used to do more than smoke.”

“Back off, Adam,” she snarled in reply. “Now, will you please—”

I’d had enough. Not bothering to look at her computer, I snapped the chinstrap loose with my other hand and yanked off the nylon skullcap. Instantly, Julia’s eyes snapped open and her body spasmed, sending her and the chair crashing to the floor. Her right arm flew up to her head as she started to swear, her left trying to follow but jerking tight against the tape I hadn’t yet removed. That set off a fresh round of curses, interrupted sharply by a gagging noise, and then Julia’s stomach inverting itself.

I put one foot on the casters and hauled Julia back upright, just in time for her to send another batch of vomit down her front. Then her eyes blearily met mine. “Don’t… ever… do that… again,” she managed to cough out around a mouthful of sick.

“I paid your body as much respect as you did,” I sneered. “Besides, aren’t you in a hurry?”

That stunned Julia into silence for a few seconds. “Okay, I deserved that,” she mumbled. “And yes, I am. Oh, man, what a stink. Here, almost done.” We finished extracting her from the chair, and then she was scrabbling for clothes, mopping the mess from her face and chest with a discarded towel. “Damnit, I can’t make a fist; help me dress?”

I put my hands on my hips, struggling to keep my voice level. “That’s because of the swelling. Julia, would you kindly tell me what the hell is happening?”

She stopped, took a deep breath, and sighed. “Irokai got hacked; you heard about that. John helped out from the inside, but his account got botched in the process. They gave him until tonight to pay his identity bill, and he organized a protest instead. When things got out of control, they announced a global rollback, no exceptions. John’s moving everyone onto his dev system so they’re not stored on Irokai’s database when the shutdown hits, but that box isn’t sized for that many people and I’m worried about hardware failures with that kind of load, plus he’s exposed since he’s now on an isolated server. I know where it is, but I have to get to it before Tadashiissei does so they don’t pull his plug. Again. And for the last fucking time, Adam, it’s Jules, not….” She looked down and raised an arm, gesturing downwards at herself. “Not this. Now hurry up and help me dress, damnit; we don’t have time for this!”

I crossed my arms, standing stock still. “When you actually come out to me, it’ll be Jules. Until then, it’s Julia. I dislike diminutives, and I hate taking things on faith, two things that you and Johnathan seem to enjoy far more than I find comfortable.”

Julia’s eyes went wide, thrown visibly off-balance by my remarks. She stared in open-mouthed shock. “But I… you knew?”

I scowled and grabbed one of the shirts that looked vaguely presentable off of the floor. “No, I didn’t know, because you never told me. I guessed, certainly; I’d have had to be an idiot not to see the signs, and you wouldn’t have suffered an idiot this long. Like Johnathan, though, you just assumed I would run with the guess and hope it all worked out. You hinted, prevaricated, and threatened, but not once did you actually tell me why it was so important to you that I use Jules instead of your legal name. Arms up.” As she complied, I pulled it on over her head. “Damnit, how can you both be so smart and still be so bloody stupid?”

Julia turned towards her dresser and pulled out a pair of y-fronts; her voice was very quiet when she next spoke. “After all your crap about not having proof for things, I didn’t think you’d listen.”

I sighed. “Yes, well… mea culpa.” I nodded as I took the underwear and held them out for him. “Sometimes there isn’t any proof to be had, and you have to go with your best evidence. In Johnathan’s case, that would have been research on others who’d been uploaded before him, which still hasn’t been done, mind you. In yours, you could have just said something, instead of all this bloody hint-dropping.”

“There has been research,” Jules snapped. “Imogen Franklin’s been studied intensely since her conversion, and nobody’s reported anything broken yet. As far as anyone cares, she’s alive and well, just living inside a computer. As for the rest, well….” He gestured towards the ground with his injured hand. “Maybe it’s not so easy to just say, ‘I’m a guy’; It’s not something that comes up in casual conversation, you know?” Jules admitted. Then he grinned weakly. “Besides, I was going to upload instead of transition; the surgical options still suck, and I don’t get the fur or the tail if I stay out here.”

I grinned and snagged a pair of his jeans. “That’s close enough. No time to bind, I’m afraid; you’ve got seventeen minutes to get to Infinicom and I’m parked three blocks away.”

Jules shook his head. “I don’t bind; hurts too damned much and I can’t breathe when I do it. Gets in the way of my smokes.”

“Filthy habit,” I muttered as I pulled two pairs of socks from his dresser, tossing one to him and knelt to help him step into the other. “I don’t even want to think about what else you’ve put in your body.”

Jules rolled his eyes and tossed the socks over my shoulder, back into the drawer. “I don’t bother. Anyway, when you hate your body, it doesn’t really matter what you do to it. Now c’mon. We’ve got to move.”