A Devil's Bargain

Moved 3.1 a good dozen chapters back. Wrote a new 3.1. Polished 3.2, and cut 3.3 into its own section. 2020/04/14

This is still my favorite chapter. I love where it ends. Polished yet again. Moved some bits about. I hope it flows better between Meu and Wenifas POV. 2020/04/17

Celesi glanced sideways at Toar, as they followed Apulton and Andrus through the crowded streets of Ebertin. They were near the shore of Lake Kundilae, so she assumed they were in Edgewater and fast approaching their destination.

Celesi gaped at the crowd on the streets. She was shocked to see so many of her people, at once glad that so many of her cousins were free to go where they may, and yet disappointed to see so many of them with petulant scowls upon their faces, either oblivious or bothered by their freedom.

Still, it'd been a long time since she was around so many of her own kind—though they were all quite foreign to her.

They still looked familiar, like the friends and neighbors she had as a child.

Celesi didn’t feel like they were her people. She didn’t know any of them. She didn’t know their concerns. She was a stranger among those most closely related to her. There was so much about them she didn’t know. With a lump forming in her throat, she realized there’d always be a bit of the Ministrians in her.

There were many levels of Jay among the Ministrians, and Celesi was the very lowest of these. Her sisters made a point of reminding her frequently. To be the lowest of the Jays meant that she shared in all the niceties of her sisters profession; an appreciation for the arts, lessons in cooking, manners and the like. She was well educated—after a fashion. They were even so liberal as teach her their letters, and allowed her a personal journal. In this way, she was far above the commoners, like Wenifas.

But as the lowest of the Jays, hers was an empty title. She had no access to the political cloak and dagger that seemed to dominate the Sisterhood's true work. Celesi never wanted a part in it anyway, and had simply resigned herself to a life among that people; a stranger given some privileges simply because she was young and pretty.

And how long could she expect such privilege to last? How long could she expect her good looks to hold out, especially among such an ugly people?

Over the last year and a half, Celesi felt she was little more than a pin cushion for her ‘sisters’, Karamina and Alise. She was low on fight. After her village was ransacked and her friends and family rounded up and taken to the Invader’s Fort as slaves, she evaded the blended forces of Minist, Wibbeley, and Ebertin for eight months—not to mention the bugbear. But the ordeal took its toll. Thin and emaciated, she was finally caught trying to fish a proper dinner out of a half frozen creek. Her captors found her at the edge of the stream; frozen, starved, and nearly out of her mind.

For her own reasons, Meriona took an interest in Celesi. Not caring much for the squalor of the prison, Celesi complied and allowed the Jay to give her the ‘rudiments of a proper education’.

Eventually, Celesi learned that Meriona had recently returned from selling her last progeny, another native girl of uncommon beauty. Indeed, Meriona was quite plain in her plans for Celesi, and explained quite pragmatically how she expected Celesi to handle the various embarrassments and inequities that were undoubtedly coming her way. The young Trohl would be a concubine to some man of position, her virginity sold to the highest bidder.

But first, she had to be trained in the niceties of Baradha society.

Still weak from running and hiding in the wilderness, Celesi allowed Meriona to mold her. She saw how the other slaves were treated and knew in many ways she had it good. She went along and built her strength as she studied her enemies.

But she never bothered to attempt an escape. She knew the punishment would be harsh, and worse, she had no where to go. Her family was gone, dead, or sold down river even before Celesi arrived at the fort. As she was first captured, sh’ed thought at least she should see her family again. But there were only a few neighbors left—among a great congregation of strangers. Life was hollow, without reason or meaning. There was certainly no point in fighting her captors. They’d already won, and could only make her life more of a living hell. Instead, she grew complacent, grown accustomed to the pins and barbs delivered by her senior sisters.

Many months passed. The duke arrived, and shortly after, the war of bugbear attacked. Suddenly, Celesi was heading in the opposite direction.

After that, a rock smashed though the Copula of the Great Court and killed the unpleasant judge Kezodel. In the mayhem, Celesi found the courage to stand up to Meriona—and just like that she was free, as free as the day was long! She couldn’t help but grin most stupidly as they wandered the streets of the city with thousands—indeed, millions of her own people-with a handsome and dour man next to her.

She glanced again at Toar and fancied that the young explorer would make a fine anchor for her new life.

All she had to do was win him over.

Celesi eyed the prosaic come and go of traffic while the manic events of the last couple weeks played through her mind yet again. It seemed that no one among the commoners even knew or cared of the grand events that had happened. "They move around as if nothing is wrong," she wondered aloud. "Is it possible that such a lord should die, and the people won't even know it?"

"There's not much talking in this city," Apulton speculated. "Anything beside the official story must travel in furtive whispers. One must be very careful with the Degorouth in control."

Andrus shook his head in disagreement. "The secret is out," he argued. “Nothing stops the rumor mill. Indeed, when people appear quiet is usually when it is doing the most work.”

“For many of them, it won’t matter,” Toar countered “Even if they know, they must assume the new leader will be just as bad as the last, and likely as not, they are right."

“But the shaman promised a new day,” Celesi replied.

“And who is he to know the future?” Toar shook his head. “The hyperbole of a holy man, a best guess, a wild hope.”

"Will there be fighting?" Celesi asked.

Andrus nodded. "The Degorouth are bitter and petty. They’ll bloody somebody.”

"They're a rotten bunch," Apulton agreed. "There is likely fighting already—somewhere. The Degorouth will take their frustrations out on someone—once they get over the initial shock of it all."

"Do you think they'll maintain power?" Celesi asked.

"Without Kezodel?" Apulton shrugged. "With him in the lead, I'd say they were likely to break Ebertin—eventually. She's a tough egg, but Kezodel was something else. Among these other muckety-mucks, I dunno a single one worth his salt—but then, I haven't paid too much attention. I didn't see a reason. I assumed Kezodel would stay in command for another fifty years," he admitted.

"It is impossible to pay attention among the sycophants and lickspittles that groveled at Kezodel's feet," Andrus added. "You heard the priestess yelling, 'you will be swept aside!' and what not. Who knows? Maybe it is a new day for Ebertin."

"Perhaps the loss of their leader will be enough to shake these parasites," Celesi noted. “The people deserve better.”

“Do they?” Toar cut in.

"It shall be interesting,” Andrus began. “But I think Traust means to see us all go home. I fear we shall not get to see it.”

“I for one should like to stay," Apulton replied.

"You would stay, even with all the coming troubles?" Celesi asked.

"I should like to,” Apulton answered. “The troubles will not affect me as much as others. My home is in Hearthstone. I am supported from there, so no matter how dire it gets, I am more insulated than most. And what of you two? Do you wish to go east with the Saot lord?"

Toar gave a quick nod. "I am not taken with this city. Not in the least.”

"Didn't you grow up here?" Celesi asked.

"No, though I lived here for several years,” Toar answered. “I grew up among the Degorouth. I should not like to be near them at all."

"How is it that Kezodel knew you?" Celesi asked—a question that piqued both Apulton and Andrus, as they were not in the main audience hall as Kezodel spoke to Toar. They did not hear the brief yet familiar exchange between the two.

"I was raised in Kezodel's house," Toar noted. "I was about Claiten’s age when I escaped. Several of Kezodel’s men had kidnapped the daughter of a political rival. She was also young, and several of Kezodel’s harem colluded to help her escape. I was enlisted to go with her, and help her own her way. When it was revealed beyond a doubt that Kezodel was behind the kidnapping, the locals rousted the judge and drove him to Ebertin.

“For years, it seemed as if the evil judge was forever out of our lives—except that he managed to take over the capital,” Toar continued. ”Then, with the help of his Ministiran allies, he ruined the western settlements and sold their people as slaves—and it took him little more than ten years to do it," he finished with a sordid tone.

“It is good that you escaped such a fate," Apulton said as he clapped the younger Trohl on the shoulder.

"Sometimes, I fear my actions led to him taking over Ebertin," Toar replied. “If I had not escaped, if he was not confronted and driven away, he’d simply be some backwater judge. He’d certainly be unable to ruin a whole tribe of Trohl.”

"Yet he failed,” Apulton shrugged. “And who is to say he wouldn't have taken over Ebertin that much quicker if you hadn't unwittingly destroyed his operations at home?”

“Besides, he has not completely spoiled the Bouge,” Andrus added.

“The Bouge,” Toar snorted. "I always wondered how we could call ourselves part of the Freelands when I was born to slavery. The doublespeak of our leaders is disingenuous at best!"

"Most people are willingly blind to the truth,” Apulton replied with a shrug. “It keeps them from the discomfort of having to make their own decisions.”

"Hearthstone is free," Andrus noted.

"For now..." Apulton muttered under his breath.

"What is this?" Celesi asked. "I thought Hearthstone was the most beautiful city in the world!"

"It is!" Apulton replied. "But there is no place in the world safe from the ruinous effects of stupidity. Even among the Jindleyak there are those that advocate for their own slavery. There is no city without its troubles."

“And it seems that most of ours come from Gramgoar,” Andrus noted.

Apulton turned to Celesi. "Now that you know it, do you still prefer to go to Hearthstone; or might you like to stay here in Ebertin, the greatest of all Trohl cities?”

Andrus snorted. “It is merely the largest. It is in no way the greatest.”

“Being the largest makes it the greatest,” Apulton replied. “Now shush—I have asked the lady the question.”

"I am not attached to Ebertin,” Celesi began with a shrug. “I know nothing of it, and if there will soon be fighting, I'd just as well go elsewhere…"

"Ebertin is a vast city," Apulton noted. "I should think there will be fires—and most people won't see them. There will be fighting in the streets—and most people won't hear it. A new order will establish itself—and half the populace will never look up from their doings long enough to notice," he waved at the varied crowd. “Even now, they take no notice.”

“It is not my home,” Celesi continued. “My home is gone, and my family with it. Now, the only people I care to know move on, and I plan to go with them,” she smiled at Toar. At once, she hoped she did not betray her interest in the young man—and yet she wondered that it was somehow possible he had not noticed her attention. She thought perhaps it was the stress of their situation—but stress brought it out of most men. It certainly seemed to get his Saot friend, the tea-drinker with the lustful eye.

Of course, that man gave the priestess the same look—and even looked at Meriona with such eyes—the lout!

But then, what did Celesi know of men? The last good men she knew were several years in the grave.

Oh but don't think of home, Celesi told herself. Instead, think of your newfound freedom! Think of the handsome man at your side! Such thoughts will keep the tears away, she noted as she wiped the gathering moisture from her eyes. I am free! Free in the Freelands! she reminded herself as she followed Toar through Edgewater. Think on that!

~!@#$%^&*()_+ 3.2 +_)(*&^%$#@!~

Scarred and unconscious, Krumpus was carried through Beletrain by the half giant, Aim; yet, his mind was open to a host of ethereal creatures, all but invisible to the others. As the party made their way through Beletrain, beings of radiant light and love swirled in the air about the shaman— some too strange to describe.

Though they were quite restless this day, various beasts of the dark shrank and shivered as the party passed. Indeed, a priest of the naga attended the shaman in his astral form and warned away several of his own race. These trespassers were not to be disturbed.

Thanks to her venom, Meu was connected to the shaman's mind. She could also see these creatures. And what a sight they were! They were the most beautiful beings Meu had ever encountered! They were perfect in their manifest forms with brilliant eyes, pristine smiles—and for most that cared to wear it—elegant dress. The love and power that radiated from them was pure and beyond measure! Many were human—though they were in their full manifest form, with wings of light in evidence. Their was a high dragon, and a couple of his lesser cousins crowding in from the edges of her perception. She assumed one was a naga, with his long, flat tail and stick-thin arms. His dress was fancy and if Meu concentrated on his presence, she could hear him chanting a pleasant song. There were even a couple of her own cousins—though their coloring was strange to her. Their wings were dark, nearly black, and their body a marbling of reds, orange, yellow and white underneath, as if they were night winged lightning. They were from no colony she knew, or of which she’d even heard rumor. A number of the crowd were too weird for the wyrm to name—though she might hazard a guess or two. One she thought might be a thunderbird. Another was certainly a warhorse—or a nightmare—as they were also called.

Caught in the ecstasy of the shaman's visions, Meu couldn’t contain herself. She did not follow the shaman’s progress—nor did she notice that Wenifas had separated from the others, as she studied this heavenly council from behind the shaman’s eyes. And so Meu rose into the cloudless sky above Ebertin as she spun in exuberant spirals. The sun glared down from its zenith, and Meu danced in its rays. Despite its incredible heat and light, the sun could hardly compete for the wyrm's attention. Her amazement swelled as she beat her wings and climbed into thin air.

Despite the burns Krumpus suffered from the lightning, Meu knew he’d be okay. Indeed, once he healed, she suspected he’d be more potent than ever—as he was touched by the strange magics of his ethereal visitors. But the shaman wasn't the only one to benefit. Meu could feel her own understanding and abilities stretch. She drew a number of valuable secrets from their songs and dance, from their kind words and thoughts. She knew there was a good deal she was missing, as the creatures tailored their words and actions to the shaman’s needs, and not her own. She wondered what she might learn If these beings talked to directly to her—then what might she understand? Still, Meu marveled at what she witnessed, baffled that their potent magics were not only possible, but seemed relatively easy. She realized many of her magics were overly difficult and complicated in the manner she used them, made so by her own fear and uncertainty. The magics of these creatures were often incredibly simple—yet seemingly boundless in the various ways in which they complicated.

Meu climbed higher and higher, and the city shrank below. Ebertin dwindled and the far shore of Lake Kundilae crept into view. She wheeled as excitement and strength poured through her—as the conversation between Krumpus and the others raced on and on and on. Meu would have sworn that weeks or months had past if it wasn’t for the slow march of the ever present sun above her. She returned to the sun after peering into the eyes of the greater dragon—that told of lifetimes he’d lived in the great deserts of multiple worlds—could it really only be a few hours since all this began?

Suddenly, the angelic council spoke no more. In their silence, they simply stared at the shaman and waited expectantly.

No.

This host of incredible beings looked through the shaman. They observed the one attached to his mind. They witnessed Meu.

She was discovered!

Meu gazed in from the edge of the shaman's consciousness, suddenly unnerved. Her heart skipped a beat. She leveled out and spiraled in a lazy glide as she accepted the fact that she was known. Was she in trouble? Would these beings of light and power turn terrible? Would they destroy her for her trespass? She was sure they could. She wondered what wrath might pour from them and hoped only that her destruction would be immediate. She could not hope to deny them.

There will be no punishment, one of the wyrm explained. Indeed, many of them recognized she was there from the start—how could it be otherwise? But it is not you alone, the creature told Meu. You have brought another. Do you not hear her?

For several seconds, Meu hung in the air. In a forgotten corner of her mind, she heard Wenifas plead and beg for rescue. Meu had forgotten and ignored the priestess—and now her friend was in danger once more. Meu’s heart lurched. I am here! She called to Wenifas.

In a rush of relief, Wenifas told the wyrm what had happened to the Lady Yandira. Despite close proximity to soldiers all her life, Wenifas rarely witnessed such open and immediate violence herself. She was used to the creeping secretive malevolence of the Corpus, hidden by the thick canvas of her own tent—justified by custom and rite. Though it occurred from time to time, soldiers weren’t allowed to do violence without consent. But the church was another matter. The violence of a dark night; fists and feet, bites and bruises, strains, sprains, and all sorts of various pains. This is what Wenifas knew of violence. There were whispers of pain, only ever so much blood, and never any witnesses…

And now Wenifas was somewhere under the city, running from Degorouth, stumbling about in the dark. She held her babe close as her son of nine clung to her hand with one of his own. Pale faced and beginning to lurch, Elpis led the way, as Scurra followed close behind, resolute, yet seeming so small…

Suddenly, the priestess’s commentary stopped. She heard Scurra curse as she threw her weight backward, rolled away, and lost her torch—though she managed to catch her feet. A mallet flashed out of the shadows and smashed at Elpis. His torch was dashed as it dropped to the ground.

Claiten waved the last of the torches. He screamed as he saw the strange beast before him; long skinny arms, a wide flat tail, and scales all about. This naga was not kind, like the one that sung to the shaman. This one was dark, with a long, thin metal rod and a round metal ball on the end. The naga knocked the last torch from Claiten’s hand and swept the boy aside.

“Claiten!” Wenifas screamed as her boy tumbled out of view. She heard a splashing of water as the beast shoved her roughly into the brick wall behind her. A rude pain shot through her head as she bounced off the wall. She cushioned Evereste as she crumbled to the ground, and for a split second, her mind went black.

As this violence occurred, Krumpus spoke to Meu. I cannot return yet, he told her. My body is still weak, and my spirit is not yet prepared. Will you go and do what you can do to help?

Resolved to save her friend, Meu pulled in her wings and dove. Wind rushed over her form as she raced for the ground. Meu called back to her distant friend.

In the dark, Wenifas regained consciousness. She sat up and screamed as the naga tugged at her crying babe.

Meu pulled up hard as Wenifas and her companions were attacked. Her wings fanned and her dramatic descent halted. Fear and impotent rage surged through the wyrm as she screamed at Krumpus and his heavenly council. Do something! She begged them. Do anything!

A searing thought burned from the shaman, through Meu, and caught in the mind of the woozy priestess. Weak and uncertain, Wenifas woke as scaled hands pulled at Evereste. She screamed—and then the shaman was in her mind. Krumpus showed the priestess a thing among the folds of his cloak: a small object made of paper, flint, and black powder. Despite her panic, Wenifas clutched at the weapon. Not knowing what it was, she thrust it at her attacker. Let go! The shaman commanded, but the priestess pressed it against the naga’s face.

Light and heat exploded from the object. The beast roared and let go of the screaming babe. Her hand was on fire! Wenifas smothered the flames in the thick folds of the shaman’s cloak.

She is safe—for now, Krumpus told the wyrm; then he did something no one had ever done before. His thoughts became overwhelming, and then simply disappeared as he severed the connection. Meu’s mental vision blurred. She forgot about the shaman and concentrated on the priestess. Unfortunately, whatever Krumpus did also severed the wyrm’s connection to Wenifas.

As Meu wheeled in slow circles far above the city, the last words of Krumpus echoed through her head. Resolved to find her friends, Meu tucked her wings and dove toward the earth.

~!@#$%^&*()_+ 3.3 +_)(*&^%$#@!~

Scurra brought up the van as she followed Elpis and the foreign priestess through the shifting dark of Beletrain. One moment, everything was fine—then a curious scrape caught her ear and instinct took over. She pulled up and leaned away from the sound just as the head of a mallet swung past her and rebounded off the ancient brick of the wall.

“What…?” Wenifas began as she turned back to the militia woman.

Scurra pulled her knife and turned on the strange fish/snake/man amalgamation that attacked her in the low light. She struck below its guard, and cut across its form, but did not penetrate the beast’s armor.

Again, the heavy mallet crashed at Scurra. She flung herself back to avoid the strike, but was forced too far. She lost her footing on the uneven floor, and threw her torch, so she might keep her blade instead, as she rolled back and away from the naga’s long weapon.

The beast did not pursue her. Instead, it turned on the others. Elpis gave a yell and interceded between the beast and Wenifas. With his one good arm, he dropped his torch so he might raise his axe. The beast stood tall on its thick tail and smashed at the man with its mallet. Elpis caught the blow—but the strike carried such force, and he had just one good arm. Elpis could not properly block the strike. The shaft of his own weapon smashed back and struck his face. Dazed, Elpis crumbled.

The naga turned on Wenifas. She screamed and clutched her babies as she tried to dodge aside. Claiten pulled his hand from his mom, swung his torch at the naga, and pulled his dagger. The naga brushed the torch aside and pushed the boy past him. Stumbling, Claiten fell into the canal.

The naga lowered his mallet, and with its off-hand pushed Wenifas bodily into the brick wall. As she fell, her only thought was to cushion Evereste. Wenifas blinked away stars of pain as she cried out. She felt the naga pull at Evereste. Torment and rage shrieked through the priestess as she felt Evereste slipping from her hands. Although she knew the wyrm could do nothing, Wenifas cried out to Meu, help me!

Suddenly, a cold and calculating presence infused the priestess, and she felt the reassuring mind of Krumpus ring through her head. With his guidance, she reached into the folds of his cloak and pulled a small object from an inside pocket. With a scream, she shoved the round object in the beast’s face—though Krumpus urged her to let it go. She sensed the added pressure would do the beast more harm. She had no idea what the object was, or that it might possibly hurt her too. Indeed, she did not care. She only feared it would not do enough, it would not drive the naga away.

Heat and light exploded from her hand. A searing fire ripped at her fingers and palm as Wenifas smashed the black powder flash bomb into the beast’s face. Wenifas screamed and the beast roared in agony. The naga let Evereste go and cradled its own face instead.

Wenifas thumped her hand against the shaman's thick cloak and managed to put out the fire. Once again, the room was consumed by darkness. Wenifas could hear the beast as it scurried away and slipped into the aqueduct at the far side of the room—and then she could hear nothing but her own ragged breath, and the fuss of her babe. She rocked the child as she shushed and cooed and tried to reassure her that everything was once again all right. “Now now, darling...” Wenifas said with tears in her eyes.

"Sweet Jeiju," Scurra muttered in the dark. "Is everyone okay?"

Elpis gave a croak as he slowly propped himself against the wall.

"At least you drove it off," Scurra noted. She struck her knife against a flint. "How did you do that anyway?"

"The shaman," Wenifas began, though she didn’t know how to explain.

Scurra snorted. “Don’t tell me he’s here in the dark too…”

“No,” Wenifas shrugged. “In his cloak—I thought it was a stone.”

Scurra snorted. “Leave it to my brother to stash firebombs in his pocket,” she noted as she lit her torch. “So much for never seeing nagas. Damn thing moved quick!” She raised the torch and assessed the scene. “Holy Tronde, Elpis! Now your face is bleeding too!”

More bloody than before, Elpis snorted and tried to wave her off. With a muttered curse, Scurra helped him to his feet. She gave him his torch and lit it with her own.

"There," Scurra smiled and gave the last torch to Wenifas.

Wenifas dropped it. “I cannot hold it,” she said and held out her burned hand for Scurra’s inspection—though the tears in her eyes were not for her hand, but for she no longer held. She cursed and kicked the dropped torch, and sent it rolling into the dark.

Scurra gave a nod. "Well then, let's get out of here," she said, as she helped Elpis from the room.

As the others left, Wenifas turned toward the dark of the room one last time. She stared off in the direction she last heard the naga. Although she knew she’d get no answer, she called into the shadows. “Claiten, baby, you out there?!”

Tears rolled down her face as she stared into the pitch dark of Beletrain. “Claiten!” she screamed—only to hear her own voice bouncing about in the darkness as she cradled Evereste close. Feeling her mother’s distress, the babe whimpered and groaned.

Scurra wrapped an arm around the priestess. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but we have to go.”

The darkness before her was overwhelming, especially since she knew what crept about in the dark. With a shudder, and barely able to see, Weinfas wiped her face and followed after the Trohls.

~!@#$%^&*()_+ 3.4 +_)(*&^%$#@!~

Meu spotted clothes hanging on a line and swooped into the yard. She shifted into human form, grabbed a thin sundress, and let herself out by the gate. Still barefoot, she made for a nearby market. She knew that Wenifas and her companions were somewhere under the city, among the tunnels of ancient Beletrain, and meant to find the nearest entrance. How difficult could it be? She thought, brimming with courage and confidence.

Meu stepped into an eatery and sidled up to the bar. It was a fine place with fancy decor and a gallant air. The barkeep stared at her for a full second, seemingly astounded, before he thought to even approach. His mouth formed into a smile as he stepped close. "How can I be of assistance, miss?" He asked, a chipper and amiable fellow indeed.

Meu did not speak. She found human language difficult to mimic and could never make the sounds to her own satisfaction. She thought to lick her lips and use her venom—but realized she had another way to communicate, one recently taught to her by the very councils of heaven! She leaned toward the bartender and stared into his eyes.

After a long second, the barkeep leaned back and shook his head with a tsk. "Beletrain ain’t no place for a lady! Let me get you a tonic and dram of my finest gin! Then, perhaps one of these fine men will regale you with the misfortunes of ol' Beletrain: that legendary bitch of a hole!"

With a frown, Meu shook her head. She gave a pleading nod.

“So be it,” the barkeep shrugged. He leaned close and whispered low. "Two blocks down and one block over, there’s a tanner. For the right price, he'll let you down into that snake pit—but I tell you, miss, you don't want to go down into ol' Beletrain. It's a nasty nest of slow and painful death,” he shook his head. “Or maybe if you’re lucky, you’ll only lose a limb...” He pointed at a man at the end of the bar that leaned precariously over his drink. The man had only one arm.

Meu smiled, touched by his concern. She pulled the barkeep close and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"You pay with the finest coin," the barkeep blushed. "Before you go, take this refresher." He lifted a bottle from under the counter and set it before Meu. "Please, take it so that I might beg more payment; another kiss to the lighten the other cheek?" he said with a wink.

Meu took his face and obliged the barkeep.

“You come back ‘round and give us a visit, now,” the barkeep winked. “I’d love to hear of your adventure.”

As quick as she entered, Meu ran out of the bar. Still barefoot, she ran until she found the tanner's door, then banged against it impatiently.

"Keep yer pants on!" a gruff and irritable voice roared from the other side of the barrier. Meu stopped banging. Seconds later, the door ripped open. A disheveled face glared at Meu. “Where’s the fire?!" snapped the disheveled tanner.

Meu gave him a beguiling smile. She stared at the tanner the way she stared at the barkeep, that he might read her intent.

"Beletrain?! In a sundress?!” The tanner snorted. “You even got a knife?!” he roared. “You won’t last an hour!"

Still, she stared at him.

The tanner huffed and shook his head. "It's your funeral—but I don't unlock the cage for anything less than a lune!"

Meu frowned. She had no coin. Of the three purses she stole from Fedring; Wenifas had one, Claiten had another, and Krumpus had the last.

Not that it mattered. There was more than one way to purchase a thing, and this tanner seemed the type to take advantage. Meu’s hand touched the collar of her dress and she pulled gently to expose more skin. She put her other hand on her slight breast and gave the tanner a suggestive look.

The tanner snorted as he stared at the smooth skin of her chest. His mouth twisted into a wicked grin and he pulled the door wide open. "Well, missy, I ain't fucked a crazy since the last one ran off, but I do like the looks of you!" He said as he grabbed her by the arm and yanked her into the shop.

The tanner whipped Meu into the room and slapped her ass as she wheeled past him. She braced herself for impact and bounced off a table with an indescribable accumulation of junk and dross piled high on its rough and dirty surface.

As she slowed to a halt and regained her balance, Meu glanced about the dingy quarters. Thin paths cut between massive jumbles of a cluttered and messy life.

The gruff tanner swiped at the door and it banged shut with a violent shudder. Various objects and mess clattered to the floor. The greasy man turned on Meu expectantly, as he purposely blocked the door. She'd made the offer and he meant to collect!

Meu hesitated. The tanner rushed forward, grabbed at the front of her dress, and almost yanked her off her feet. "No need for clothes!" He roared with the smell of stale cheese heavy on his breath.

Instead of resisting, Meu jumped at the tanner with a lusty look in her eye. She wanted in close, and quickly, before he had time to do any real damage. She wrapped her arms and legs about the tanner. She buried her face in his neck and planted her teeth. A heavy dose of her venom surged into the ocean of the tanner’s veins before he could do anything about it. It’d only take a few seconds until she had complete control…

With a yell, the tanner threw her off. Meu landed heavily on a table and tumbled to the floor amid a clatter of mess. The tanner charged her as she stood. He wrapped his meaty fist about her neck.

Her breath caught. Meu could pull no air. She pried at his hand—but he was large and strong, and she was so slight in comparison—then her venom caught, and she had complete access to his fetid thoughts. No, Meu said in the man's head. Slowly, his fingers relaxed. The tanner's eyes went wide and he realized he was no longer in control of his own body, as this thin woman danced about his thoughts and forced him to her will. The tanner backed away from her as he breathed in ragged huffs. I take back my invitation. Meu informed. I apologize for the ruse, but you must let me into Beletrain nonetheless.

The tanner turned. He led her into a dingy basement, as the rest of his dwelling proved to be just as cluttered and messy as the workshop. There were several barriers that had to be removed and unlocked in order to get into Beletrain. There were massive chains and locks, even multiple doors to open—and when the tanner was finished, there was simply a dark corridor with nothing beyond it—just a sucking void of pitch black, stale air.

"I won't let you back up," the tanner glared.

You'll do whatever I ask, Meu replied as she ran a hand down his gruff cheek. She gave him a slap and the man flinched from her. I admit I never meant to sleep with you, Meu began, and normally I would return the insult and injury you meant for me.

In his mind, the tanner saw the punishment Meu thought appropriate. He saw himself run headlong into the brick wall behind him. Such a blow would surely knock him unconscious—if it did not kill him outright.

However, Meu continued. I am blessed today, and I will not sully the grace I am given. Go. She ordered him. Go upstairs. Use your viciousness and anger to scrub your hovel clean. You might not have much, but it is yours. She lectured. To care for your stuff is to care for yourself!

"What is it to you?" The gruff tanner snorted. Despite his belligerence, Meu could sense his pain, fear, and abandonment.

It is little indeed, Meu smiled. But you have given me access to Beletrain, and I would yet pay you—if only after a fashion. She said, as she stepped backward into the darkness, with nothing but the bottle given to her by the barkeep, and a sundress to cover her skin; both of which she would not keep.

The tanner stared after her her—and then he was no longer before the entrance to Beletrain at all. He was far away, on a small beach, naked and wet, as he fought the grip of the ocean. With ragged breaths, he swam for shore, then stepped from the surf with a sponge he'd retrieved from the chill waters.

His chest heaved as he regained his breath. On the beach, the tanner took the time to study his surroundings. The sun drifted at the edge of the horizon, far over the ocean, and colored the sky orange. A massive tower sat atop a cliff, overlooking the ocean. There was a trail that led from the beach, up the side of the hill, and to the tower atop the cliff.

This is mine, the tanner thought as he stared at the tower and followed the path from the beach. He could not believe the beauty of the landscape and the peace of the birds as they wheeled and called and played above the surf.

The tanner approached the tower and saw Meu standing at its top, younger and more beguiling than ever before. She wore the same slight dress as she smiled down at the man. With a smile, the tanner went up the trail. He approached the massive door and pushed it open. Meu stepped down a set of stairs and smiled at the man’s nakedness, which caused the tanner to blush. She took the tanner's free hand and pulled him into the tower, then gently shut the door behind him.

In a corner of the room was a small pool filled with steaming water. Meu approached the large tub and shrugged out of her dress. She turned and beckoned for the tanner to join her. Still naked, he stepped over the rumpled cloth of her sundress and into the bath. With sponge in hand, the tanner washed Meu’s arms and legs, her back and shoulders.

There was a persistent grime over most of Meu’s skin that required soap and fair bit of massaging. As he washed her, a constellation of freckles appeared on her back, shoulders, arms, and up her legs. "I shall handle the rest," Meu smiled and took the sponge from him. "Will you see to my hair?" she pointed to a brush on a small table. Her voice was as rich and sweet as any he’d ever heard, and he realized he could not possibly deny her.

The tanner stepped out of the pool and retrieved her brush, then sat behind her on the steps of the pool and brushed out her long strawberry hair. As he brushed, she sang a song of heartache and longing. The song faded to an end. The tanner barely breathed as he listened to the sweet lilt of her voice echo among the stones. After several silent breaths, Meu turned her loving eyes on the man. "A towel, my darling."

The tanner turned to a fine cupboard filled with clean linens—indeed, everything about the tower was neat and orderly, and begged to be appreciated. Slowly, Meu stepped from the pool and took her towel. He smiled at her as his longing continued to build. He knew the only way to get what he wanted was to remain patient. He knew he had to let her give in to him.

With a playful smile, the tanner wrapped his arms about her legs and lifted Meu off the ground. As he picked her up, Meu laughed and ran her fingers through his hair. His face was just above her navel as he carried her up the stairs and to the top of the tower. He reveled in her scent as he carried her; a faint citrus zest—a warm, fertile, earthy smell.

On top of the tower was a large canopied bed with heavy weatherproof drapes, made from skins by the tanner’s own hands, tied back to reveal soft covers. A warm wind blew out to sea as the sound of crashing waves drifted up the cliff. The tanner set Meu on the bed. He ran his eyes over her alabaster skin, broken by a fine smattering of freckles: tan stars against an ivory sky. The sun settled over the horizon and the world turned a warm red.

The application of a fine scented lotion turned to touching and kissing. Emerald green eyes shined with mirth, thin lips curved in a playful smile, and Meu pulled the tanner close. The tanner could not imagine what good he had done to deserve such a woman—and yet she begged for him! She wrapped her arms around his neck and for a second he feared she might bite him again. Instead she took him in and sang a simplistic song of heavy breathing and pleasureful moaning, to blend with the tumultuous sounds of the ocean, and the shrill cries of the sea birds.

As they finished, as Meu wrapped her arms around the tanner and cradled her face against his chest, she whispered to him in the growing dark. "You can have these things," she said. "But you must remember your passion. Do you not lust for such a life?"

The tanner settled next to this slip of a woman as tears of joy and ecstasy clouded his vision. Tongue twisted, he could not reply.

"There, there," she whispered as she ran her hands over his gruff skin. "You deserve such love! We all deserve such love! But you will not find it the way that you are. You must make yourself the way you used to be. Remember who you were when you cared, before hate and lies took hold and began to terrorize you? Before selfishness and small comforts consumed you?" she lectured.

Meu filled the tanner’s head with memories of years gone by. He was a young man with ambition; a thousand dreams caught in his eyes. His deepest regret was that he could not chase them all.

"These dreams are meant for you," Meu whispered. "What will you pursue? The riches of the world beg to be claimed, and our reward promises to be more than we need. Certainly, it is more than we deserve!" she smiled. "But we must be worthy! Be worthy once more, my fine man!" she said as she kissed him one last time. Meu and the tower receded into shadow, and the world was dark before the tanner once more. “Remember yourself,” she urged as she disappeared.

The vision was gone. The tower and the woman faded into memory as the gaping black nothing of ancient Beletrain stared back at the tanner.

If he closed his eyes, he could almost see her, smell her, and feel her—but he could no longer hear her. He leaned into the darkness of the tunnel. His heart longed to see her come out of the shadow and wrap her arms about his neck once more. He promised to be gentle, to care for her as only a real man could. But she did not return. He thought to follow after her, but he knew she would not be found.

Still, the tanner stared into the pitch black of Beletrain as the conditions of his life crashed in upon his consciousness once more. He stared down at the dirt on his hands and the mess of his clothes. He reeked. His filthiness was suddenly obvious and overwhelming. Seed soaked his pants. A deep and profound longing filled his heart to bursting.

Slowly, reluctantly, the tanner shut the door to ancient Beletrain. He replaced the chains and the heavy locks, and when he was done, he sat on his haunches and put his face in his hands. Then he wept, not because of his squalid conditions, but because he had abandoned his dreams for so very long, and sold himself so very cheap.