Em, I thought over the sudden rush of boots, but I didn’t say it. I was doing what I was told, and doing it very well. I wasn’t afraid. I wasn’t sad. I wasn’t even angry. I had every reason to hate Miss Datsia for what she had done to Erik, Miss Aura for what she had done to me. All I could feel was a dim relief that everything would soon be resolved. I dropped to my knees beside my master and pet, then gingerly placed my body over his to shield it. His bloody jacket was warm against my stomach, but cooling rapidly, and his fur was already growing chill. His chest still moved, and he trembled, but I could tell it wouldn’t be long. Already I could see the anger of his wound fading, the pain passing into hollow numbness.

The guards from all around the room had perhaps made it halfway to the dais when a thunderclap blew the main doors off their hinges. Shards of wood flew into the room and smoke poured in in their wake. I cringed reflexively against the sound and snapped my ears back against my head, but my skull still rang with the force of the blast. The guards all stopped in their rush and turned, spears at the ready to protect them against whatever dragon or demon had just been summoned into their midst.

Out of the smoke stepped Miss Aura, clutching a lit torch in one paw and a small sachet in the other. Her eyes burned and her tail lashed madly behind her. Miss Inika stood close behind her, her spear at the ready to guard the sage. Mister Iladin followed behind, a heavy pack on his back. “I am Inika, daughter of Eskaya,” the vole pronounced, her voice muffled by the ringing in my ears. “With the rightful heir and his sergeant incapacitated, I am assuming temporary regency of Barony Deterikh.”

A few of the soldiers turned to charge the small group, but Miss Aura shook the pouch in front of her, sending up a cloud of powder into the air, and words flew from her muzzle in a tongue that seared my ears to hear. Her voice peaked in a shout, and then she thrust her torch into the dust, sending a gout of flame shot out from her outstretched arm towards the guards. The two closest to her didn’t have time to scream before they were burned alive, their bodies collapsing to ash and scorched bone. The third, though, had only his arms caught in the sudden inferno. He shrieked and dropped to his knees, desperately trying to put himself out, his frantic flailing only spreading the flames across his body.

The stink of charred fur and flesh filled the room, and one of the other guards dropped to his knees, retching at the stench. Miss Inika, however, only wrinkled her nose as she marched toward the dais, the two sages close behind her. “Anyone wanting to challenge my authority can go through Aura to do it.” No-one else moved, and she hollered back towards the entryway, “Secure!” Erik’s loyalists rushed into the room, quickly stripping the last of Datsia’s guard of their weapons.

In the midst of the chaos, Miss Inika casually pointed the tip of her spear towards the back of the hall. “Valentin’s that way, sleeping in a washtub.” Mister Iladin bowed and then, escorted by a trio of Miss Inika’s supporters, shuffled back to recover the sergeant. The vole’s attention, though, had already returned to the two of us beside Miss Datsia’s body. Her muzzle quirked into a gentle frown, and she knelt next to us. “Poor th—” She froze mid-word, then snapped her head upright. “Aura! They’re still alive! Both of them!”

The sage was at my side before I could blink, her torch discarded, her fingers gripping my shoulder. “Taneh, up.” Her voice shook worse than her paw. “Off the baron. Let me…. Great Family.” She delicately caressed my pet’s shoulder as if she were stroking an eggshell. “Erik?”

“Aura?” Erik’s voice was a whimper, barely audible even at this closeness. “I’m sorry. She… she beat me.”

“Hush, boy,” the sage soothed. “Save your breath.” She spied the shard of metal jutting from his back, and her tail collapsed to the ground behind her. “I need to turn you to inspect the wound. I won’t lie: this’ll hurt.” He nodded, and she shifted backwards. “Taneh, his shoulders. Inika, legs. On three.” We scrambled around, then eased him onto his back, but not without drawing a choking gasp out of the young baron. We rested his head in my lap, his upper back balanced on my spread knees to keep the tip from hitting the floor.

When she saw jagged end of the broken spear jutting from Erik’s chest, Miss Aura’s ears went flat against her head and the blood drained from her face. “Dust.” The her eyes narrowed as she lifted her gaze to mine, her muzzle tightening to a thin line. “Did she suffer, at least?”

I shrugged as best as I could without moving. “I don’t know, ma’am. I emptied the vessel. She begged, at least.”

The sage nodded tightly, tail lashing once. “It’ll have to do.” Then her attention went back to Erik, and her manner softened instantly. She cupped one paw gently against the side of his cheek. “Relax, boy,” she murmured softly. “I’ll try to make you comfortable.”

Erik coughed, paws still clutching at the wooden shaft embedded in his gut. “I hurt… want to lie down.”

Miss Aura gave the barest shake of her head. “That might dislodge the spear. You’ll bleed out.”

“Don’t care,” Erik said, panting. “Going to die… anyway.”

The kitchen door banged, and two pairs of hindfalls stumbled towards up. A shadow fell across us, and then Mister Valentin knelt next to Miss Aura. “Inika, find Chelin. Go spread the news of Datsia’s death.” He was silent as his lieutenant left, then lowered his head to survey the damage. “I’m sorry,” he finally said. “It should be me down there.”

Erik shook his head, grimacing at the motion. “Had to… be me.” He bit down hard against a spasm of pain. “Succession.”

“Don’t talk,” The sergeant admonished gently. He cautiously pried one of Erik’s paws off of the spear and held it in both of his. “Listen, Erik, you’re going to be fine. Aura and Iladin will take care of this.”

“Lying again.” Erik hissed around gritted teeth. “One thing… Valentin. Your oath. The barony.”

Mister Valentin shook his head emphatically. “You’re not dead yet, and you’re not giving up on me.”

Mister Iladin squatted to Miss Aura’s other side and leaned in close to peer at the wound. He bit his lip, then sat back on his heels and shook his head. “He’s lost so much blood, and the damage is extensive.”

“Six generations… founder’s blood.” Erik’s voice was growing softer with every breath. “My jacket… soaked with it.”

I gently stroked a paw down Erik’s cheek. “You’re still talking, pet,” I chided as gently as I could. “Relax and let the people handle this.”

Erik’s eyes went wide, and then a gentle smile spread on his muzzle. “Yes, master.” Then he drew in as deep a breath he could manage and went limp in my arms.

I waited for a few seconds, then narrowed my eyes at Miss Aura. “What can you do?”

Miss Aura’s gaze held mine, and then she snapped her head down to Erik. She began tracing symbols in the air before her, muttering to herself, and then nodded sharply. “It’s worth the risk.” She turned to Mister Valentin and drew in a deep breath. “Do you trust me?”

“What?” The lynx almost bellowed the word. Then he stopped and sighed. “I don’t have much choice, do I?”

“Not really,” the sage confessed. “Iladin, chalks and salt, ruby dust and sapphire. The contents of your herbal racks, and fast.” Mister Iladin rose, then rushed from the hall faster than I had ever seen him move before. “The barony will soon be yours, Valentin. Be gentle with it.”

Mister Valentin’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you said you could save him!”

“I can’t save Erik, Baron,” Miss Aura corrected. “If Iladin hurries, though, I may still be able to do something.” She turned back to me, bobbing her head. “Little light?”

I smiled and let the warm heaviness spread through me once more. “I am ready.”

Miss Aura smiled back. “Of course you are. I’ll need your help as well.”

“Inika, take the rear,” Mister Valentin said as he stepped across the threshold. “I’m on point. Erik, keep one paw on Taneh. Taneh, keep your chains off the ground. The larder will have a minimal guard, the kitchen a few more. Inika, you said Datsia’s forces hold the main hall, yes?”

The vole crisply nodded, stepping to the side to let Erik and I step past. “Mostly. Erik’s supporters have the run of the keep aside from those, and Datsia’d have to fight for every step past those two rooms, but she’s got enough to keep everyone else out.”

“Ram the barricades, perhaps?” My master fumbled with his mace as he guided me forward. “Can they force their way past the guards?”

Mister Valentin shook his head as he advanced. “They could, but Datsia controls the walls to the keep and half the town beyond. Without a supply line, every resource is precious; that includes paws as well as arms.”

Miss Inika chewed on her lip, her thin tail swirling nervously behind her. “We could play this like a siege; they’ll have to sleep in shifts, and that will weaken their defenses.”

“No good,” the lynx countered. “Datsia can play the same game writ large, and they’ve got access to all of Baris’ larders. And there’s Dion and Krolik at stake. They can wait; we can’t.”

The vole folded her arms, her spear pressed against her chest. “So, we’re just charging into Datsia’s den, then?”

The sergeant shrugged. “If you have a better plan, I haven’t heard it.”

“Dust,” Miss Inika spat. “She’s not going to just let you walk into the main hall, you know.”

My master chuckled quietly as he walked. “She hasn’t stopped us.”

Miss Inika was silent for a moment, then sighed. “That’s because I haven’t tried to stop you yet.”

Three pairs of ears fell flat at those words, and we all stopped in our tracks. Slowly, Mister Valentin turned, his eyes narrowed. His knuckles went white as he clenched his spear. “Say that again.”

The vole fell back a step and brought her spear down to a ready position. “My job was to find you, find out your plans, and stop you if you came in through the scullery.”

A low growl rumbled in Mister Valentin’s throat as he bore down on his student. “You’re the trap.”

Miss Inika retreated a step for each of the Deterikh sergeant’s. “I tried to tell you.”

My master followed a pace behind Mister Valentin, his mace held before him as he had at the end of the last fight. “What did she offer you? Was Chelin’s help a lie as well?”

“His job,” the vole said, bobbing her head towards the Deterikh sergeant. “And no, he refused to play her games. Datsia left him his title as a show of good faith, but he hasn’t been back inside the inner wall since.”

Mister Valentin stopped and lowered the point of his spear. “So, do you intend to sell us out to her?”

Miss Inika smiled faintly. “Would I have told you if I did?” She lowered her spear, putting her point to the ground. “You needed to hear it from me. My help wasn’t a lie.”

“So how can we trust you now?” My master’s voice rose in a whine. “You tell us you’re working for Datsia, and now you’re asking us to act like we don’t know that!”

The lynx put his paw on my master’s shoulder. “Listen, Erik. The point is that by telling us, she’s trying to prove she’s not.” He turned back to his student. “On your spear, Inika.”

The soldier lifted her weapon and balanced its shaft across her paws. “By the Great Family, I pledge fealty to Erik, son of Wilik, rightful baron of Deterikh.” She tilted her head the side, her own ears folding back. “Convinced yet?”

My master sighed and hung his mace back on his belt. His tail hung low and flat behind him. “You could’ve started with the oath and saved us all a lot of heartache.”

Miss Inika lowered her spear and stepped forward again. “If I’d started with the oath, the guards on the wall would’ve shot all of us.” She looked to her mentor and extended a paw. “I’m sorry if I made you doubt. Consider it repayment for trying to tell me Taneh was dead.”

That caught my master’s attention; his ears shot upright and his head snapped to Mister Valentin. “Dead?”

Mister Valentin clasped arms with his student. “Accepted and offered in return. We’re all going to have to trust each other from this point.” He turned to my master and waved away the concern with his free paw. “It’s a long story, best told after we’re—” His words trailed off into a sudden yawn. “Excuse me, the tension is getting to me. After we’re done with this.”

My master shrugged in return, and Mister Valentin turned back to lead us deeper into the kitchen, but he made only a dozen steps before he stopped and audibly yawned again, leaning against his spear with one paw on the wall to steady himself. “I don’t know what’s wrong, but I’m suddenly exhausted.”

Miss Inika stepped up behind me, putting a paw on my shoulder. “Valentin?”

The Deterikh sergeant shook his head, trying to wave away the concerns, but on his next step, he stumbled and staggered forward, thumping into a wooden washbasin with a deep echo that rumbled down the length of the scullery. He slumped to his knees, his spear clattering off the ground as he dropped. “Suddenly… sleepy,” he mumbled, before collapsing to the ground in a heap.

My master was on his knees beside Mister Valentin in an instant, Miss Inika next to him, as they tried to rouse the fallen sergeant. “Valentin!” The word was a hiss, as loud as he dared this close to the kitchen and Miss Datsia’s guard. “Get up!” He shook the sergeant’s shoulder, then lifted his head and slapped him a few times, but the lynx stayed stubbornly asleep, his muzzle hanging half-open, his snore a deafening rumble in the otherwise still air.

“He’s out cold,” Miss Inika griped. “What could’ve done that to him?”

My master groaned and thumped his head against the washbasin. “Oh, dust. The potion!” He turned to Miss Inika. “Aura gave us both a potion to help us fight; it’s how he smashed that spear with a single hit. She did say it would leave us weak when it wore off; I guess his just did.” He fumbled inside his jacket and extracted two vials. He stared at the silver one for some time, then cracked the seal on the pewter one and poured it into his muzzle.

Miss Inika wrinkled her nose at the scent. “Are you sure that’s safe?”

My master’s only response was to gag once as the potion hit his tongue, but to his credit, he swallowed every drop and licked the rim before setting down the vial. “No choice, it seems.” He turned to face the way we entered, lost in thought for several moments. “What happens to you if you leave here alone? Will you be safe?”

The vole considered, then shrugged. “Any of ours, they’ll be glad to see I’m alive. Any of Datsia’s, they’ll assume I finished the job. I’d say so.”

He rose and nudged the sleeping sergeant with his hind. “Will he be safe here?”

“He should be.” Miss Inika sounded less sure of herself on that one. “Someone who sees me leaving might send a patrol to collect the bodies, but watching the scullery was my job.”

“Good.” My master pointed out towards the back of Deterikh Keep. “We’ll leave him here, then. Take your leave, head back inside, and take up position outside the main hall. Send a small group to Iladin’s and have them standing ready to escort the sage and Aura back here. Pull every spare body you can to the great door and be ready.”

Miss Inika saluted, then took a step towards the door, then stopped and looked back. “For what?”

My master smiled wearily, but the look didn’t reach his eyes; they were cold and hard, just empty blue orbs. “You’ll know it when you hear it.”

The vole leaned forward, peering at my master intently, her eyes glinting. “Erik, what are you planning?”

Baron Deterikh retrieved his fallen sergeant’s spear and cracked the seal on the silver vial. Its contents oozed over the steel tip, leaving an unhealthy brownish-green residue that stank of mold and apples. When the metal had all but vanished under the glistening smturned to face the doorway to the kitchen. “I’m going to end this, the only way I can.”

Pausing at the end of a row of tightly-packed shops, the sergeant-at-arms motioned for us to stay still, then crept forward and craned his head around the corner, peering towards the inner gate. I quietly counted my breaths as I waited for him to return, expecting with each to hear the sudden twang and whistle once more, to see Mister Valentin’s body suddenly jerk and then fall, to catch that sudden whiff of copper and shame as he collapsed to the ground. A paw fell upon my shoulder just after seven, a second cupping my muzzle to silence me before I could shout.

“Four I can see,” Mister Valentin hissed, his ears flat against his head. “Two before the guardhouse, two on the walls with bows. They’re holding the gate.” He flicked his head over his shoulder, towards the commotion just within the wall. “Past them, we head through the stables, back to the scullery, and in through the slaves’ entrance.”

“How do we get past them, though?” my master whispered back, his voice no louder but filled with tension. He let go of my face and hefted his spear. “I could take one, maybe.”

The sergeant shook his head as he released me as well. “Spears to the archers, then close with the mace. One good throw, we drop both, and then its two-on-two with the element of surprise.”

My master’s ears remained flat and a scowl spread across his muzzle. “We should’ve brought the crossbows.”

That drew a dark chuckle out of the lynx. “Then I’d have had more to fear than the archers on the walls.” He held out a paw to forestall my master’s protest. “Your eye is sound, but you’re no sureshot.”

My owner’s scowl remained unabated, and his tail brushed behind him. “They’ll call for reinforcements.”

Mister Valentin shrugged. “We have to take that chance. It’s this or climb over, and then we’re targets for every archer on the wall. Koskhi’s luck, we’ll have cover for most of the way there.”

“But….” My master’s voice trailed off into a sigh as he hefted his spear in his paws. “What if I know them?”

Mister Valentin’s ears splayed, and his muzzle set into a tight line. “Then you kill people you know. Deterikh blood has already been shed, and longer we take to deal with Datsia, the more will needlessly flow. I don’t like it, but I don’t see an alternative.”

“At least let me talk to them!” My master hissed insistently, the tip of his spear shaking. “I can’t just—”

“You can, and you will,” I interjected, putting a paw on my owner’s shoulder. “You need to be Baron Deterikh. Saving these lives doesn’t save the most lives.”

Baron Deterikh’s protest died in his throat. He shook his head and hefted his spear onto his shoulder. “Let’s get on with it.”

The sergeant-at-arms matched his baron’s grim frown. “On three.” He motioned us up to the mouth of the alleyway and held up one paw, three fingers extended. Two. One. At the shake of his clenched fist, both Mister Valentin and my master dashed out from between the buildings, rearing back with spears aimed high. Both let fly, then sprinted towards the gate, maces drawn and raised.

The guards at the gate turned at the commotion, their own spears at the ready. “Arms to the inner—” The cry for help cut short as one of the archers fell from the wall, crashing onto the guardhouse with a spear through his gut. The other drew back to fire, but before he could my master had closed the distance with Mister Valentin close behind. One guard lashed out, thrusting for the lynx’s chest. Mister Valentin snapped his mace to block and the shaft of the spear shattered, splinters flying. “Erik! Close!”

While the guard stumbled backwards from the force of the blow, his companion stepped into the gap, blocking my master’s advance. “Cover!” He held his spear high but ready, its tip tracking the young wolf’s steps. “We need cover!”

“I’ve got y—” The other archer’s voice jerked into a scream and his bow clattered against the ground as he fell to one knee.

“Valentin?” A female voice shouted over the wall. “Sergeant!”

At the name, both Mister Valentin’s ears shot upright. “Inika!”

“Sit tight!” came the fast reply. “Reinforcements!” Through the gate, I could see a vole in a loose chain shirt and leather leggings, a spear in her paws and another on her back. Mister Andor stood beside her, gripping his mace in his paws as if his life depended on it.

The second guard had drawn his mace, but rather than advance, he turned to face the interior, shifting nervously. Mister Valentin rolled the mace in his paw as he eased to the side of the guardhouse. “You’re outnumbered and outmaneuvered!” he shouted to the guards at the gate. “Stand down and you’ll get a fair hearing!”

“Stand your ground!” the larger of the two guards bellowed. “Hold the gate!”

“Sir, that’s—” The second guard’s protest vanished into a whirlwind. The exchange took only a few seconds, but that was all it needed. Miss Inika sharply drove her spearpoint into the ground at the younger one’s hinds, then reached for her belt. The guard stepped forward to respond, but the vole pivoted her spear on its point and twisted aside his blow. Mister Andor jumped at the sudden opening, slamming his mace two-pawed into the smaller guard’s shoulder with a liquid crack that sent him sprawling. The larger guard fell back to try to cover his companion, and Mister Valentin and my master charged. The sergeant swung again, but his mace slid harmlessly along the shaft of the guard’s spear as he turned the blow. That left my master room to strike, and his mace pounded into the back of the guard’s head with a crunch of bone.

After the burst of conflict, the stillness seemed unnatural. I dashed over to my master’s side and put a paw on his shoulder; his face was a mask, his eyes empty as he stared down at the fallen guard at his feet. His chest heaved, and two damp patches spread on his cheeks as he viewed the aftermath of his work.

“Nice blow,” Miss Inika called as she worked the tip of her spear free of the ground. “First kill?”

“Yes.” The word fell from my master’s lips like an apology.

The vole nodded and approached, then studied the body. “It was clean, at least. He probably didn’t hurt long.”

“Inika, later.” Mister Valentin’s tone offered no room for negotiation. “Everyone, to the stables. Have you seen Chelin?”

The Deterikh soldier shook her head as she rose and followed. “No, sir. Andor woke me about two minutes before the keep became a battlefield.”

The sergeant grimaced. “So, neither best nor worse. Andor, go find Chelin and meet us at the baron’s parlor.” The young wolf saluted again, then dashed back towards the gate. “What’s the situation inside?”

Miss Inika shook her head. “Most of the house is loyal to Erik, but Datsia controls the walls and what support she has inside is well-groomed. They’re holding the main hall and the kitchen.”

Mister Valentin pointed towards the end of the stables, where the walls touched the back of the house. “What about the scullery?”

The vole shrugged again. “Datsia knows it’s there; she’s probably reinforced it inside.”

The lynx sighed and pinched the bridge of his muzzle. “It’s still that or fight our way across the grounds and then for every inch of floor.”

Miss Inika frowned and folded her arms. “Sir, beg pardon, but if you charge the scullery, you’re a bigger idiot than Erik was for charging the Jazinski line.” She looked to the baron. “No offense.”

My master shrugged. “None taken,” he said woodenly. “It was a fool’s gambit. I was—”

“Distracting us from the present,” the sergeant interrupted. “Why an idiot?”

Miss Inika waved her arm towards the scullery. “She’s probably expecting you to do something that obvious.”

Mister Valentin’s eyes went wide and a smile burst out on his muzzle. “Then it’s perfect.”

The vole blinked and actually took a step backwards at the sudden look of madness on Mister Valentin’s muzzle. “What?”

“Walking into her trap.” Mister Valentin turned and began to jog through the stables. “It’s the perfect plan.”

My master’s ears went flat, but he did his best to keep pace. “You’re starting to sound like Aura.”

The sergeant didn’t even drop pace. “Even better!”

Miss Inika scrambled after us to keep even. “Valentin, stop and explain yourself. How could deliberately playing into Datsia’s control possibly be a good idea?”

Suddenly, the Deterikh sergeant halted in his stride and spun to face the rest of us. causing my master and Miss Inika both to stumble into each other. “You asked me to stop. I stopped. You almost ran into me anyway.”

Miss Inika looked at my master, who shrugged in response. “I don’t think either of us actually expected you to stop.”

Mister Valentin’s green eyes flashed above his suddenly feral grin. “She’s not actually expecting us to spring the trap. She’s expecting us to see it, assume it’s trapped, and ignore it.” He pointed back towards the slaves’ entrance to the keep. “It’s like Aura was saying all along: Datsia bluffs, every time. This time, we’re going to call that bluff.”

The vole nodded in response, matching the wolfess’ grin with his own. “The team Valentin sent to retrieve him just returned with the news; he and Inika retrieved the Baron’s horse from the Jazinsk border, along with a spear that Chelin identified as his. They found no sign of young Erik, but forward spotters said they saw a wagon, heavily escorted, headed towards Krolik. Short of word from Baron Jazinsk himself, I would say that we have as much proof as we need, Regent.”

Miss Datsia smiled. “Good, that will make his tale all the stronger.” She sighed and walked to the table, then leaned against it with both paws. “The barony is safe, for the moment, but we still have much to do.”

Mister Valentin nodded in response. “Agreed. I’ll go tell the guard to stand down.” He crossed his arms and turned to the vole. “Chelin won’t be in any state to ride. Dion, go get ready. I know you’ve just returned, but we need to get the Regent’s offer of peace to the Jazinskis before—”

“Cancel that,” The elder wolfess interrupted. “Dion, head to the border and begin the advance as we discussed.” She reached over to one of the many sheafs of paper, then pulled one free and tapped on it with a clawtip. “Keep your pace slow; you won’t be leading veterans this time. I don’t care if you take a week to get to Krolik. Just keep your casualties down until you’re at the city gates. You’re going to need as many spears as you can get inside the walls to deal with their—”

The lynx turned to Miss Datsia with an incredulous stare. “What? You said once Erik was gone that you’d negotiate peace with Jazinsk!”

Deterikh’s captain turned to Mister Valentin, her expression level. “Your point being?”

The sergeant-at-arms narrowed his eyes. “I said I would help you get the throne out from under Erik’s temper. I didn’t say I would help you use it to start a war.”

Miss Datsia’s tone didn’t change, faintly amused and patronizing. “Valentin, you’re a good soldier, but you just don’t have the guile necessary to make a good leader. The Jazinskis declared war on us. They’re hungry from a year of poor crops, so their troops will be weak. They’ve taken Erik into custody, so we have a martyr for the cause. If there’s a better time to expand our borders, I can’t imagine it.”

“So.” Mister Valentin scowled and crossed his arms. “Are you saying all of this… this was just to grab a piece of Jazinsk?”

Miss Datsia’s ears flattened and her tail bristled. “Of course not!” she snapped. “My goal was, and will always be, to ensure the well-being and future of the barony. Every ruler takes that oath. I saw a chance to solve two of her biggest problems at once, and with your help, we solved them.”

The lynx paused for a few seconds, then asked too lightly, “What problems do you mean?”

“Oh, come now, Valentin,” Mister Dion interjected. “Don’t play at being the innocent; that wide-eyed look of confusion doesn’t become you.”

The wolfess favored Mister Valentin with a patronizing smile. “The Jazinskis have been a thorn in Deterikh’s side for over a generation. The southern Ezustia Range is ours by right—”

“Oh, Great Family,” Mister Valentine groaned, putting a paw over his muzzle. “We lost those mines twenty years ago!”

“We gave them away twenty years ago!” Miss Datsia snarled in response, passion showing in her voice since she first heard my master had been captured. “My brother’s second-worst mistake on the throne.”

Mister Valentin’s ears flattened against his head. “Oh, and what was his first, falling in love?”

Miss Datsia turned sharply away from the table. “Valentin!” As soon as she snapped, she drew in a deep breath and visibly composed herself, then held out her paws placatingly. “Please. Do you think me that heartless? Melka and I were never close, but I don’t resent Wilik for loving her. No, it’s what he did afterwards that was unconscionable.”

The lynx was unimpressed. “You mean giving her a son.”

“I mean taking an unimaginable risk with the barony, staking her future on that….” She glanced down at the fist she’d raised in front of her and lowered her arm back to her side. “That unstable whelp.”

“That ‘unstable whelp’ was my friend,” Mister Valentin retorted.

“Oh, of course he was!” Mister Dion laughed. “That was why you stabbed him in the back.”

The sergeant-at-arms rounded on his accuser, one finger pointing accusingly. His fist shook. “Don’t push me, Dion.”

Mister Dion leaned back against the wall, unphased. “Or else… what, precisely?”

“Just…” Mister Valentin stood still for a moment, then turned away, dropping his arms as he slumped. “Don’t.”

“Oh, poor Valentin,” The vole cooed around a smug smile. “Having an attack of conscience? Life is so much easier without one. Still, isn’t it a bit late to grow one? You did volunteer to help with this.”

Mister Valentin tensed but his voice remained weary. “I haven’t forgotten what I agreed to do. I also haven’t forgotten why.”

Miss Datsia stepped towards the lynx and put her paw on his shoulder. “Valentin, you’ve said it yourself. He didn’t have the mettle he needed to be baron.”

Mister Valentin didn’t raise his head or his voice. “You mean he wasn’t ready to go to war with the Jazinskis.”

“I mean he would’ve given into every demand made of him, then lashed out blindly with twelve times the strength he needed.” Miss Datsia’s tone was gentle but firm. She waved her free paw in my direction. “You saw what he did with just his fists. Imagine if he’d had an army at his disposal.”

The lynx turned to look at Miss Datsia, then followed her arm. His eyes met mine, and for the first time since he entered the room, he seemed to see me. “Listen, Datsia… maybe he’d have been fine if he’d actually been allowed to be the baron. I don’t think you ever gave him that chance.”

Miss Datsia shook her head in response. “No, I never did. It wouldn’t have been worth the risk to the barony.”

“And fighting the Jazinskis’ war is?” Mister Valentin asked in response. His eyes remained on mine, weary at the corners but still faintly smiling.

The wolfess’ ears flattened against her head. “Yes, I think it is.” She looked at me, and she smiled again, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “About that slave, though. Dion, as much as your suggestion appalled me, I must admit it worked beautifully. My congratulations to you for that. You have your orders.”

The vole snapped to attention and nodded sharply. “Regent.” Then he turned and walked out of the parlor.

Miss Datsia waited until the door had closed behind her envoy, then turned to face her sergeant-at-arms. “Valentin, Erik was your friend, and I understand that, but your loyalty must be to the office, not the holder of that office. You understand that, correct?”

The lynx’s expression hardened. “I do, yes.”

“Good.” Miss Datsia chuckled mirthlessly and walked over to the door. “You did what was necessary, and you played your part well. Now I need you to help me fill in the last few holes. We need to dispose of that slave.”

My blood ran cold at Miss Datsia’s words, and Mister Valentin’s eyes went wide. “But… Taneh had nothing to do with this!”

The wolfess gave an exaggerated sigh. “I’m aware of that, but again, it’s too much a risk. What if someone compels it to talk? I don’t like it either, but it’s the only way.”

The sergeant-at-arms’ paws went out, pads up, pleading. “Listen, Datsia, it doesn’t have to be like this. I’ll take em to Aura’s, have eir memory wiped. Ey doesn’t—”

“That’s not good enough!” Barony Deterikh’s regent barked. She sighed again, forcing her ears upright. “It’s still too risky, Valentin. Everything we’ve done will be for nothing if word gets out of what happened. The only way to ensure success is to silence anyone who would speak out. We can’t have it running around the keep, and we can’t sell it. That only leaves one option. Can I count on you to finish this… Captain?”

Mister Valentin’s eyes closed, and my blood froze solid when next he spoke. “Yes… Baroness.”

It took some effort—and a fair bit of pain—to get my legs over the side of the bed, but soon I had my hinds on the floor and my paws on the edge of the mattress. Everything spasmed as I pushed myself upright, but I managed to put my weight on my legs without them collapsing. The first steps were difficult; it felt as if things inside me were moving that had no business being able to do so. I wrapped my arms around my waist, though, and I focused on making one step, then another, slowly turning a circle about the room. I felt myself favoring my left leg, which was little surprise; that side had taken the brunt of my master’s kicks.

Once I knew I could walk without toppling, I gathered my chains as best as I could to keep them from swinging and limped carefully to the door. Mister Valentin had left it open, and the witchlights in the parlor remained uncovered. Unfurled scrolls and other sheets of papers lay strewn about the main table, with half-empty teacups around its edges. Plates sat stacked on a wooden plank at one end, still covered in scraps. At the other, the baron’s teapot held a few last cold dregs. One of the chairs sat on its side, another on its back. From the state of the room, the formal council had gone about as poorly as my master’s mood had.

It hurt to bend, to move even the relatively light chairs, but the need to feel useful even in my master’s absence moved me to straighten the room. What made it difficult, though, was the paintings that hung on the walls. From their vantage point on high, six generations of barons past stared down upon me as I did my best to tidy the parlor, righting furniture and gathering cups. I couldn’t bring myself to meet their gaze as I worked, and the longer I walked around, the more uncomfortable I became. My master’s father, Wilik, stood in the last frame. Unlike the portrait in the bedroom, he stood alone in this picture, dressed in full regalia. Painted in his prime, his fur held only a few patches of white, and he stood as straight as the spear at his side. His eyes were the same gold as his son’s, large and bright, with hints of weariness at the corners, as of a soldier who had seen one battle too many. The line of his muzzle was flat, his ears erect; it was hard not to read his expression as a scowl, disapproving and disappointed.

I flinched as I met the portrait’s stare, then lowered my eyes again. “I’m sorry, sir,” I said aloud, addressing my master’s father. “I never knew you, or what you thought of your son, but I can only hope that he’s made you proud.” I swallowed heavily, feeling at once like a fool and a fraud. I hadn’t prayed since my father died, and I didn’t even know if I had permission to speak, but I felt the need to help, somehow. “I don’t know if the Great Family listens to you, sir, but my master… your son… is in a great deal of trouble. He’s probably scared, and lost, and….” I drew in a deep breath and let it out. “I know I’m just a slave, and I have no right to ask, but if you could ask Oshka to protect him until he’s home, sir, it would mean a lot to me.”

“One good thing about the dead,” Mister Dion intoned behind me, “is that they have very little to say.” I spun, ears flattening against my head, to see the vole, dressed in a loose cotton shirt and trousers, leaning against the doorframe. A mace hung from a heavy leather belt around his waist, with a scabbard tucked against the other hip. Bandages encircled his lower left leg. “It makes them better company than brash young slaves who speak altogether too much.”

I blushed, my chest tight. All of my resolve to stand up to the unctuous envoy melted in the hot embarrassment of being called on my misbehavior. “Yes, sir.” My paws shook and I felt a knot in the pit of my stomach.

The envoy smiled and limped into the room. “Much, much better. Have you seen Valentin about? I have news for him.”

My heart skipped a beat. Could my prayers have been answered? “Has my master returned?”

The vole’s ears rose and his eyes shone. “Well, his horse has, at least.” At that, the pit in my stomach yawned wide and my blood ran cold, but Mister Dion continued, heedless of my expression. “Most regrettably, it seems as though the Jazinski have accepted his quite generous offer to exchange himself for a temporary truce.” He doffed his cap and held it to his chest. “A young martyr for his country. His sacrifice will be remembered.”

My jaw rose and fell for several moments, but no sound escaped me. An invisible paw held my chest in a death-grip. I finally managed to whisper, “Is he…?” I couldn’t bring myself to finish.

“Oh, no, no,” the vole replied, still smiling. “They won’t just kill him. They’ll want a full trial, to make an example of him as a warning to others.” He snickered. “What better way to deter others who would spoil their harvests and corrupt their citizens?”

My eyes went wide; the envoy’s words were a jumble in my ears. “Spoil their… but he had—” I stopped and blinked. “Corrupt, sir?”

Mister Dion let out a chuckle. “Oh, my, my, such delicious innocence.” He motioned towards me with his paw. “Just imagine what Baron Jazinsk had to say when he learned of what our teenaged tyrant had done to a Jazinski slave, to say nothing of what he then did with em. And in the middle of court, no less. Scandalous.” His paw went to his muzzle in mock embarrassment.

The implications of the envoy’s statements hit me like a blow to the chest, and my knees went weak. I dropped heavily into one of the chairs I’d just righted. “You… lied to them. None of that is true.”

“None of it?” The vole clucked his tongue as he limped over to the table. “I’d say a fair bit of it is. More than enough to make the rest seem plausible.” He leered as he approached, one paw at the hilt of his mace. “You were quite lovely at the end of his leash.”

My stomach twisted; his stare felt greasy. My voice rose in a plaintive wail. “But you brought me here! You were the—”

“—the one who took you to Aura’s, on the baron’s orders,” Mister Dion interrupted, his voice oozing smug amusement. “Yes, I was.” He took hold of my chains in his free paw. I tried to shove him away, but without fingers I could only push on his wrists, which made him laugh. “I really must compliment you, Stannis. You’ve played your part in this beautifully, even if you didn’t know it.”

At the mention of the name, the world went grey at the edges of my vision and a chill settled into my paws and hinds. It was as if the sun had risen in my mind, burning away the fog that had settled over my memory. I sank back against the back of the chair and lifted my mutilated paws before my eyes to stare at them. “You… did this to me. All of it.” I looked up at Mister Dion, voice hollow. “Why?”

The vole shrugged. “Would the truth please you? Because I wanted to do it. Because I enjoyed it. Because I could. Do you need more reason than that? You’ll have to ask the others.”

“The others?” I dropped my paws back to my lap, then flinched as they neared my waist. I didn’t want to think about what else had been done to me.

Mister Dion nodded, his grin spreading. “When they arrive, I’ll let them—oh, good, good, they’re here.” Miss Datsia stepped through the doorway, dressed in a tan jacket and dark green skirt, similarly armed to the envoy. Mister Valentin followed close behind her, in a button-down shirt and cotton pants, carrying a spear loosely in his paws. I tried to catch his gaze, but his face was a glass-eyed mask. The longer I stared at him, the deeper my heart sank into the pit of my stomach.

The sergeant-at-arms turned to Mister Dion with a yawn, having given no sign of even seeing me in the room. “You said you had news?”

“Oh, yes, yes.” Dion nodded to the lynx, then turned to Miss Datsia. “Your nephew is in Jazinski custody. As of roughly six hours ago, you are Regent of Barony Deterikh.”

Without waiting for an answer, the envoy turned back to the door and knocked lightly, three quick taps in succession. A few seconds later, an older female voice called out from within. “Enter!”

Mister Dion grinned at me, then turned and pushed open the door, stepping into a large parlor, easily twice the size of the entry hall at the Blue Moon. The center of the windowless room held a large wooden table, surrounded by half a dozen carved chairs. Couches lined the walls, with end tables beside. In each corner, a witchlight stood on a low stand, filling the room with bright yellow light. Hung on the walls, a series of portraits in oil—all grey wolves wearing Deterikh livery—gazed down at the occupants of the chamber.

At present, that included an older grey-furred wolf with streaks of white, sitting with her legs crossed on one of the couches beneath the line of onlookers. Dressed in a natural blouse and a leather skirt, she loomed over the smaller black wolf sitting beside her in full regalia. The younger one, barely older than I, shifted uncomfortably as he flipped through a sheaf of papers. “—quite capable of conducting my own affairs, Aunt Datsia,” he said as Mister Dion brought me closer to the pair. “Yes, Dion, is there some news? And who is this?”

The vole stepped back and to the side, bowing his head. “Baron, I mentioned upon my return from Jazinsk that I acquired you a local gift, yes? It has finally arrived.”

Baron Deterikh set down the parchments and folded his arms. “And?”

Mister Dion smiled and put his paws on my shoulders, gripping the cape. “Baron, I’d like you to meet…” His fingers freed the brooch, and then with a flourish, he whipped back the cover, leaving me nude. The collar around my neck gleamed a bright silver, matched at wrist and ankles by smaller cuffs, all held in place with small locks that clattered softly as I moved. Chains connected each limb to my neck, all held in place by a larger ring that also bore an etching of the seal of House Deterikh. With my paws at my side, my changes were obvious, as was my sudden flush of embarrassment at the latest exposure. “Taneh, your new slave,” the envoy finished, grinning past me at the young wolf.

“Slave?” Baron Deterikh, rose from his seat and approached. “My slave?” His golden eyes were wide with surprise, his ears standing erected overhead. One paw lightly cupped my cheek, the other resting on my shoulder. Without meeting his gaze, I turned my head to nuzzle into his pads; he was sweating lightly, but his musk was faintly sweet. “You got em in Jazinsk, you said?”

I felt as much as saw Mister Dion’s grin in response. “Oh, indeed, indeed. Well, not entirely. Aura did some of eir training and conversion.”

“Aura?” The name came from both wolves at once. They turned to each other, eyes locking for a moment before Baron Deterikh turned his attention back to me. “After you, Aunt Datsia.”

“Thank you, Erik,” Miss Datsia replied, her voice cooling rapidly as she faced the envoy. “I didn’t know she was involved in this. How is she doing?”

The vole laughed tightly. “Oh, she’s still a bit bitter, I suspect, but she was more than willing to do a favor for her old ward.”

Baron Deterikh brought his attention back to me at that. He let me brush my muzzle against his fingers for a few moments more, then withdrew to the couch. “I have no need of a slave; I have the whole of the barony to consider.” The wolf’s voice went hard. “I don’t have the time to look after one person.” His words might have been meant for Mister Dion, but when he said them, they seemed aimed directly at me.

Miss Datsia sniffed. “If you can’t take care of one person, how well do you think you can take care of the barony?” The elder wolfess clucked her tongue quietly, shaking her head. “Really, Erik, if you’re going to do honor to the family and the title, you’ve got to start leading and not just talking about it. Just what is your plan to deal with Barony Jazinsk, hmm?”

The younger wolf turned at that. “I’m dealing with Barony Jazinsk as I see fit,” he snapped. “I think Father would’ve preferred that to pointing a spear at them.”

That caught the older wolf off-guard, and for a moment, her eyes narrowed. “Wilik was a good man, Erik,” Miss Datsia replied carefully, patting the wolf’s paw. “He raised you as best as he could under the circumstances, and he’s to be commended for that. You’re right; he would have tried to talk with them first. However, he’d have built up his reserves while he talked, in case that failed. I know you don’t like it, but losing your temper over it isn’t going to make it any less necessary. We have to—”

“I’m not losing my temper!” the young baron barked, his golden eyes flashing. “I’m just… frustrated beyond measure that we can’t talk sense into them!” He rose suddenly from the couch and began to pace. “I’ve called up three more squads; that’s almost a score who’ll be spending their harvest and hunting seasons drilling instead of feeding their families. Isn’t that enough?”

Mister Dion and Miss Datsia exchanged glances at that, and then the envoy stepped forward. “Baron, if you think it would help them, I’d be willing to go make another attempt to talk sense into them. I’m not sure what good it will do, but I’d be quite glad to see if they’ll at least give us a list of grievances or demands. Perhaps if we give them a chance to cry herald, they’ll be willing to listen to reason.”

The baron shook his head and tugged at his embroidered tunic, pulling it down and squaring it against his chest. “No, no. I’m not sending anyone; I’ll go myself. I’m tired of negotiating through seconds. Baron Jazinsk knew my father personally. He’ll speak with me.”

Miss Datsia was quick to face the baron at the suggestion. “I admire your courage and idealism, Erik, but that’s foolish.” She walked over to the younger wolf and lay a paw on his shoulder. “You’re needed here in case something happens.” She shook her head sharply. “It’s too great a risk to send you out, even with an escort. Not in these times.”

“Are you saying that the captain of Barony Deterikh’s military can’t keep her baron safe?” The younger wolf said with a grin.

“I’m saying that the captain of Barony Deterikh’s military is keeping her baron safe by keeping him from foolishly risking his neck,” Miss Datsia replied archly, her tail jutting out behind her.

Baron and captain locked eyes for a few moments at that, before the younger wolf turned his head and dropped heavily back against his couch. “Fine, then. Yes, Dion, go. See if you can try to talk some sense into the Jazinskis. Extend Baron Jazinsk a personal invitation and ask him to send his envoy here again; perhaps we can talk some sense into him.”

“Of course, Baron,” Mister Dion said with a bow and flourish. “And… what shall I do with your gift? Shall I take em back with me?” The vole turned to me with a wide grin, making me stiffen. “It seems a waste after all the coin we spent, and you do sound horribly tense.” He tapped me on the shoulder, then, and motioned me to duck my head. I did so, and he whispered in my ear, “go sit in front of the baron and attend to his hinds; they’re likely sore from pacing.”

I nodded and approached, then knelt with a soft whisper of chains in front of the younger wolf. As I took one of his hinds in between my paws and began rippling my pads against it, he wiggled his toes and leaned back on the couch. “What’s ey doing?”

Mister Dion chuckled in response. “Oh, oh, baron. Ey’s massaging your hinds; what does it look like? And I have it on good authority that ey’s skilled in many ways of relieving tension. If things do escalate, it would be good to have someone taking care of you, wouldn’t it?”

The baron groaned softly and shifted hinds in my paws. “It would, yes. What did you say eir name was?”

“Taneh, sir,” I murmured softly, not raising my eyes from his hinds. “It’s Taneh.”

Three pairs of eyes turned to me at that, making me duck my head, my ears back against my head. “Do you enjoy your position, Taneh?” the baron asked.

I blushed and lifted one of the baron’s hinds to my muzzle. “I live to serve, sir,” I said before placing a kiss on the top of his hind.

Everyone was quiet for a few moments, before the baron waved me back and stood, catching one of my chains in his paw. “Dion, go and attend to your duties. Take your fastest horse and whatever supplies you’ll need. I want you on the road by daybreak. Datsia, start preparing a contingency plan in case he fails. We have raw drafts that we need to turn into soldiers as quickly as possible. Be ready with a first report by supper. In the meantime, I’m going to give my new slave a closer inspection.”

The vole’s enthusiasm might have been unflagging, but his flesh eventually did. When he was satisfied with Aura’s artistry, he collapsed onto his bed beside me, one arm around my waist. “You’ll make quite a gift for the baron, Taneh,” he murmured, patting my stomach lightly. Then he shifted, pressing himself to my side as I lay unmoving next to him, breathing slowly in and out, doing my best to focus on the witchlights in my mind. After his exertions, it didn’t take him long to drift into a light sleep, and soon he was snoring gently, tucking his legs up beside him, crossing one over mine, pinning me against the bed as he dozed.

How long I lay beside him, listening to the pulsing of blood in my ears and his whistling snore, I couldn’t tell. The trance state made the passage of time difficult to judge. The sun hadn’t quite reached high noon when I stepped inside Baris Keep, and Mister Dion’s explorations had lasted some time, but aside from that, I had no means of knowing. I could feel the trance state fading on its own as I slowly became aware of my surroundings, like waking from a daydream. The warmth of the vole’s body against mine was cloying, compounded by the tapestries on the walls and the woolen rugs on the floor that trapped the heat inside. Wet and sticky patches dotted my fur, and my hind had begun to grow numb from the envoy putting his weight on my shin. Plus, I was sore in places I had no business hurting.

That last finally drove me to extract myself from under Mister Dion’s clutches and stand. A paw between my legs came back lightly spotted with blood, which didn’t surprise me but still made me worry. Stretching my arms and legs did little to relieve the ache within me, but it did help with the numbness in my hind, and so I did my best to limber up in silence before walking in place. The leash from my collar remained tied to one of the bedposts, but I could move enough to send a fresh wash of pins and needles down my leg. Biting back my hiss of discomfort, I knelt and rubbed at my fur with my pads, stroking it against the grain and then back again, combing it flat with my claws.

“Awake on your own, Taneh?” The voice above and behind me startled me onto my rump. As I scrambled back to my knees and bowed my head, Mister Dion yawned lazily and reached down from the mattress, his clawtips stroking the bases of my ears. “I should be quite cross with you for leaving my bed, you know.”

His voice was light, but it concealed a core of iron that made me shiver. I’d seen how casually callous he could be and no desire to make him mad. “Yes, sir.” I tucked my chin against my chest.

The envoy made a show of stretching and yawned again exaggeratedly, then swung his hinds over the edge of the bed. “Fortunately for you, I’m in a forgiving mood, and any reprimand I could deliver that would be remembered would be noticed later. So, I’m prepared to let your actions slide.”

I squinted my eyes shut at that, grimacing. “Thank you, sir,” I mumbled, trying to feel grateful and failing.

Mister Dion tousled the fur between my ears playfully. “I am nothing if not magnanimous,” he lilted, then lifted one hind and held it in front of my muzzle. “So, wash my pads.”

I blinked, then looked up at him. “Sir?”

The vole looked down at me, his brown eyes placid. “Yes, yes? Is there a problem? Is your tongue dry?”

My ears flushed, but not just with embarrassment. “No, sir,” At that moment, I realized that not only did I loathe Mister Dion, but that I was right in doing so, despite my status as a slave. It made me faintly grateful for Miss Aura’s actions on my last night, if only because it prepared me for what had followed. Miss Aida’s words came back to me, of wishing someone to be for me what I had been for her cook; in that instant, I rejected them. I couldn’t wish anyone into my position, or his.

None of those thoughts, however, took me away from the situation before me. I resolved not to give Dion the satisfaction of seeing me cringe and whimper with each new degradation, and so I parted my lips and slid my muzzle down around his largest toeclaw, caressing the underside with my tongue. His leathery pads tasted of dirt and sweat and stone, musky, bitter and faintly sour, but it wasn’t as if he’d been traipsing through the stables that morning. I suckled at the digit, gliding my tongue along the rough skin, flicking across the cracks and moistening them as best as I could as I worked more of my muzzle around his hind.

Mister Dion’s head rolled back as I worked, and he leaned on one paw, cooing at my attentions. “Good, good, Taneh,” he mumbled, reaching out to stroke between my ears. “Cover it all, nice and clean, such a good slave.” His claws stroked my ears, but I did my best to push those sensations aside, focusing on the pads further down, tongue gliding between them, over the ticklish patches that made him squirm, along the sides and between his toes, dragging squeals of delight out of him as I lavished attention upon the envoy’s hind. Then, even as I finished wetting the first, I reached out for his other leg with my paws, pulling it to my muzzle and diving into that one as well.

“Eager now, are you?” The vole sounded amused, with a twinge of disappointment. “You’re quite the little slut, aren’t you? I almost wish I could keep you for myself, but that would delay things far too much, I’m afraid.” He sighed as I finished washing his hind with my tongue. “Best to keep to the plan.” He hopped down from the bed and untied my leash from the bed, then strode over to a wardrobe behind the door, extracting a corked glass vial and a kerchief. Then he slid a bathrobe around his shoulders and fetched his pants and a thick towel. “Follow.”

Most of those that we passed turned to look, but few spared either of us more than a cursory glance as Mister Dion led me at the end of his lead through the halls of Baris Keep. That alone was enough to make me wonder how many other slaves had come through here. I thought of the rumors to which Aura and Dion had alluded, but I did my best to put any thoughts beyond out of my mind. From time to time, the envoy tugged at my leash, and I picked up my pace as best as I was able, letting such thoughts drift away again.

After some meandering about the halls, Mister Dion brought me to the baths. Once there, he helped me into one of the tubs filled with cool water, whereupon my teeth immediately began to chatter from the chill. The vole chuckled and set down the bag he carried, then held up the vial and cloth. “Hinds up, up, all of them,” he said, motioning for me to lift my arms as well. When I did so, he took one in his paw and dripped sage’s water onto the manacle, rubbing at it with the kerchief until it cracked and fell away, leaving only a brown ring of rust in my fur. He clucked his tongue. “That’s going to take soap to clean,” he grumbled, but he didn’t stop in removing the cuffs. “Scrub at those as best as you can.”

While I rubbed my paws ineffectually against the rust stains at my wrists, the vole grabbed a bar of strongly scented soap and worked a square of rough wool into a lather. It took some work for him to scrape the worst of the stains from my fur, but eventually he pronounced me mostly clean and turned his attention to the other soiled patches he’d left behind earlier. Those, too, faded under the harsh minty scent and his rough scrubbing, and soon he had me standing beside the tub while he rinsed the soap from my fur.

“There,” he lilted with a smile. “The worst of it is done, and the rest will fade in time, like any memory, really.” He grabbed a thick towel and mopped my fur mostly dry, then tossed it into a hamper at the side of the room. “Now, we should back to my quarters to finish getting you ready for your presentation.”

Despite the morning weather’s best efforts, the trip itself had been surprisingly short; we passed through the gates into the capital of Barony Deterikh well before midday. The rain had slowed to a misting, with patches of sunlight breaking through the clouds. The main street was cobbled, wide enough for two carts to pass each other and lined with shops and inns, leading to a dusty courtyard centered with a well and littered with troughs and hitching points. A few scattered tents across the space invited a small crowd to them, leaving most of the grounds bare. Guards in green and white livery loitered the edges of the empty market; they turned to watch Miss Aura’s cart as it rolled past them, watching with casual detachment as we passed, heading towards the inner wall.

The station at the inner gate was far more attentive; a pair of guards stood directly in the road, with two more to either side, while I saw at least one standing on the wall, a crossbow clutched to his chest. As the carriage approached, a lanky lynx in familiar colors over a chain shirt and leather leggings stepped out from the gatehouse. He held out one paw and stepped into the path of the rig, out of my line of sight. “Welcome to Baris,” he boomed out in a low tenor. “What business have you with the baron?” Miss Aura’s reply was too quiet for me to make out words, drawing the guard into a murmured conversation, while I strained to hear and struggled not to listen. I caught mention of the the name Erik from each of them, and Mister Dion’s as well, but their voices were too soft for me to catch more than tone.

It took little enough for the two of them to come to an arrangement; Miss Aura sounded bored and the guard indifferent, and after a few exchanges, the lynx stepped back into view, waving the others to him. To one of the pair, a stocky wolf, he beckoned, then motioned to the inner keep. “Fetch Dion, tell him he’s got a visitor with a package.” His eyes swept back to the carriage. “Won’t be long; he’s my fastest—who’s that?” His green eyes snapped to mine, and I dropped instinctively. “Hey!” Solid hindfalls scuffled against cobblestone as the guard approached, followed by a rattle of the door as the lynx seized the handle. “Who’s in there?”

The sage called down from the seat, “That’s the package I mentioned, a special order for Dion.” The carriage shook slightly, followed by a thud and muffled curse. “Taneh, show yourself!” Miss Aura shouted, a sudden tinge of irritation in her voice. Quickly, I fumbled with the door, clumsily gripping the handle between my paws and twisting to open the latch. I hopped down from the seat, then quickly dropped to my knees and lowered my gaze. “See for yourself, sergeant,” The raccoon grumbled, leaning heavily on one wheel, gripping one of her hinds in the other paw. “You can inspect em all you like, but ey’s not mine, or won’t be once Dion gets back with the rest of my coin,” she grumbled, though whether at Dion or the pain I couldn’t say.

“Em?” The sergeant’s brows rose and his head cocked to the side. His eartufts were shockingly white against his grey cheekfur. He turned to me and knelt, then pulled back sharply. “Oh.” My cheeks flushed sharply at his one-word response, while the need within me swelled in answer.

“I don’t ask,” Miss Aura said, wincing as she tested her weight on her hind. She hissed sharply. “That’s a sprain if not more.”

The lynx turned to her, visibly relaxing as he put me literally behind him. “I can have Inika fetch our physic as soon as Chelin returns.”

“No need,” Miss Aura replied, shaking her head. “I’ve a lunch with Iladin, he’ll tend it and I’ll check his work. Just help me back to the seat.” The sergeant moved to assist, and together they lifted the sage back onto the driver’s bench. “Can’t be too much—and there you are, Dion,” she called out to the vole as he approached, following the wolf that had been sent to retrieve him.

“It is, yes,” Mister Dion replied with a bow, doffing his cap. His shirt was dark brown beneath with a vest worn over in Deterikh green, with his cape around his shoulders. “So, let’s see your work.”

Miss Aura sighed. “As you will. Taneh, rise.”

At that, I stood, returning my paws to my side. I felt as much as heard the vole’s approaching steps, his eyes as they inspected Miss Aura’s results. “Well, well, well,” the vole murmured appreciatively as he circled me. “I must say you’ve outdone yourself, Aura. I had some idea of what to expect, but this!” His voice dropped and a single finger brushed the edge of one of my ears; it took every ounce of will not to jerk my head away from his touch. “Very nicely done.”

“You knew I did good work, Dion,” The sage called down from her seat. “Come up here; let’s talk coin and other matters.” Mister Dion climbed up into the carriage seat beside her, and the two fell into hasty whispers. I heard the rustle of papers, and then silence, followed an appreciative whistle and more quick murmurs. Then suddenly, as if to cover an uncomfortable pause, Aura spoke too loudly, “So, that’s that, then. Ey’s all yours, once you’ve paid for the work.”

“What’s that?” Mister Dion sounded faintly confused for a moment, then quickly regained his composure. “Oh, yes, payment. Here.” Another rustling of paper followed. “A letter of intent to the exchequer, payable upon delivery. I trust that’s as good as coin? You can draw your funds at the mint before you leave.”

“And it lets you claim an extra two days’ interest while the exchequer scrabbles for enough loose coin to fill the request. You’re still a right bastard, Dion.” The sergeant and his retinue all snickered in response, but Miss Aura just sounded tired. “I’ve got a sprain to tend and lunch is waiting. I can’t wait for you to find the silver yourself. Give me your paw.” She grasped Mister Dion’s fingers in hers. “Covenant kept,” she intoned, then bowed her head and kissed the back of his paw.

When she rose again, her gaze briefly caught mine, and she winked.

“Good, good!” The vole said, too cheerfully as he hopped back down from Miss Aura’s carriage. “It’s been a pleasure working with you on this, Aura, it truly has. You really should come to Baris more often; we don’t see nearly enough of you these days.”

“And I see all too much of Datsia as it is,” Miss Aura retorted. “The next time you have need of me, send one of your guards to schedule a visit first.” She gave a salute to the guard, then a nod to Dion, and then tugged the reins on her team and steered them carefully back and away from the gate.

The snap of a clasp at my neck reminded me of the collar still encircling it and the leash once again attached. “So, Taneh—was that what she called you?”

I shivered but nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Mister Dion chuckled. “Of course, since it is your name, after all.” He paused a moment, but when I said nothing, he merely smiled and started walking, pulling me behind him. “I’ll want to replace those irons of yours before tonight,” he said. “There’s still time for that yet, though.” We crossed a bridge over a dry moat, then passed into the keep proper. “I’ve your new set waiting for you; I think you’ll approve. First, though…” He paused, then ducked his head down to my ear. “Little light.”

My blood ran cold and my cheeks burned, but in the time I thought to snap my head up and look at him, that familiar warmth and mental fog settled into place and it was all I could to to keep from falling flat. “I am ready,” I murmured, eyes closing as the heaviness settled back into my limbs.

The Deterikh envoy clapped like an eager child. “My, my. I don’t know where to begin. Tell me, how are you feeling?”

“Scared,” I confessed, the word instant. “Relaxed, aroused.”

“Good,” was Mister Dion’s instant response as he pulled on my leash, dragging me behind him. “On all counts. Let’s away to my room, shall we? I’m eager to test the rest of her craftsmanship.”

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.”