The Dawn Chorus

[Awkin]

"It's definitly unus'l. Jus' look at how 'ee spelt 'Nuffink!"

"'At's right. There's no 'gee' in nuffink. You fink it's another one of them codes?"

"Yeah -- almost certain. I mean, look at them dots. Ee's put a capital letter after every dot fing."

"You only use dem for names, don 'cha?"

"Unless you're tryin' to send a code. The last letter we intercepted with cap'tul letters left, right an' centre was the King, remember? N'fact, I woudn' be suprised if that's who this little blighter's responding to!"

"Bit slow on the uptake, inee? The king's been dead for a week already."

"These men are slow. Probably actin' under incognitar or summin'. Go on, take a a stroll. This should be an easy job."



Tales of the Hare:
~:The Dawn Chorus
They say that every creature is mortal, and must eventually die. They say that every creature that is alive now has a traceable start, and a predictable end. But they're wrong.

Some creatures have been alive for milennia. Slow, immense. Trees whose spreading, reaching, probing roots eventually bear sprout to more trees. These can cover whole valleys, whole countries. Miles and miles of trees, joined at the roots. Although they look like they are alone, they are all connected. And if one dies, it's just one tendril of the qaeda. All the other parts of the pine live on. So the tree can never truly die -- because it's connected to all the other trees in a way that still, to this day, hasn't been discovered.

One of many, part of all.

-----

Asha rode across the plain on a black mare. Clad in greatcoat and breeches -- she looked an imposing site, cape billowing as it does. She traverses the road between the city of Sondossa and the small village of Fenhei, riding through a steep-sided valley, on frozen ground. Her quarry was already in sight. Smiling to herself, she spurred the horse to go faster.

"Here!" She said, pulling her steed to a halt by the subject. "Have you seen Iccio Turu pass this way?" The subject had all the aspects mention in Thamos' letter -- olive skin, a heavy brow and two long plaits running down her back. Iccio Turu was the notorious highwaywoman of these parts. Barely a carraige went through without being looted.

"No -- I have never met the lady." Her voice was was heavily accented, and she stumbled on every sylabble. "If she did come my way, she'd never rob me. I've been astute, see -- My money's sewn into my coat." This was proof -- It was going [i]just[i] like Harper had said.

"Hey, same here. All my money's hidden away in my boot." Asha smiled at the woman. Most humans had a 'reaction time' -- so their minds were about half a second behind actual events... a half second before any reactions take place. Experienced warriors spent years having people drop large rocks onto their heads to remove this half second delay and have [i]better[i] than split-second reactions. Some animals do much the same training just by staying alive. Asha spent immensely uncountable years as a hare -- and he reactions were better than even the warriors. She had brought her perception of reality right up to the brink of events, and then further. She could see thing happen before they did -- remembering the future like the past. It only worked for a few seconds, but it was an invaluable asset. It helped immensely if you knew what was going to happen anyway. But Asha stood still as the traveller jumped round, crossbow in hand.

"I will have you dismount, and remove your boots. I am --"

"You are Iccio Turu, I know." The woman, Turu, gave Asha a blank look. Asha continued: "You will help me."

"Why should I? So what if you know my name? Hands! Where I can see them!" Asha hurriedly removed them from her pockets. The woman was clever, her crossbow still pointed resolutely at Asha while she dismounted. Asha scratched her shoulder blade, yawning. She then took a leather pouch from her belt, throwing it up into the air.

"Harper -- take the pouch."

Twwwwwwwwph

The pouch was skewered by an arrow -- which was impaled, quivering in the cold ground. There was the sound of a bowstring tensing for a further shot, out of sight. Turu glanced nervously around the valley -- at the high edges, into the distance in both directions, before dropping the bow. Asha smiled.

"That's alright now, isn't it? I'm Asha Boden... I just want to ask you some questions, and we'll both be fine. I am willing to pay for your services." Iccio sniffed.

"Clever. Your money's not really in your boot, is it?"

"It's on a garter -- if you must know."

"Really?"

"Of course not!"

Iccio sniffed again. "Let's take the horse to my place. I'll tell you everything you need to know there." Asha nodded, and called to the winds.

"Harper -- meet me at Sondossa!"

He didn't call back.

-----

Harper had, he realised as his cart slowly trotted along, adopted Asha. She had been released unto his guidance some months prior by the great teacher, Arulai. She was strange -- she kept some facts from him but Harper knew that Arulai saw through her immediately, and so named her after the Ashen. Her name even meant 'The Ashen without tidings' or otherwise 'The lost Ashen'. Harper didn't know what the Ashen were, or if there live any who remember.

They had spent days researching the name in the library at the dome -- to no end. But Harper had a contact, who had known a man, who worked on a research relating to the Ashen long ago with a woman called 'Iccio Turu'. They both fell on hard times, their work all but destroyed and they went their separate ways. The man was years since dead, but Iccio was a legend in the state of Sondossa. An honest thief, they said. Always says thank you -- ties you using slipknots, and never steals more than you have. Harper didn't see the magic in that. But then again, Harper also didn't see the archer. Harper didn't hear the soft footfall.

And, as the arrow struck, Harper didn't have time to feel the pain.

[Awkin]

Dust fell from the book as Turu opened it on the rough bench. She and Asha stand in the small annex of a large house, the owner of which was bedridden. It had no floor -- so they walked on withered grass and cracked mud. The only thing not derelict was a larch chest and iron bed -- both of which Iccio Turu used, however minimally. The route to her hideaway is a tall, thin, black gate set into a wall so succintly it inspires absolutely no interest. This gate backs right out of the city -- so she is never seen coming or going. The disadvantage to this was that she couldn't keep a horse -- so she had to set out before dawn to reach a good 'hunting ground', as she called it.

"Most of the work on the anomalies has been destroyed. Accounts have been turning up for years regarding strange events... here we are." She pulled a dusty sheet out of the book, and handed it to Asha before turning back to the chest. Asha read:

"They are winged, and they fly through the daytime -- they are so bright that the stars shine at their backs, despite it being day. Like the sun, they blot out the rest of vision, leaving a rippling rift of stars and night sky in their wake."
Turu watched, hands on hips.

"People thought it was lightning -- high-altitude ball lightning, its light amplified through the lack of oxygen to convert the energy into flame. But it isn't! After years of research, we caught one. They're creatures... they refer to themselves as the Samsara -- an old word for the 'Circle of life'. I could not bear to look upon it, so bright was its light. And when we asked it about itself, it mentioned memories of old -- and the Ashen. It talked about the world being started again, and how most everything died out, including most of the Samsara."

Asha listened with rapt interest. The Samsara del Angeli -- she too had heard tales. Iccio continued.

"It took two years to capture, Sondossa is ideal -- miles and miles of boreal forest, which is their ideal habitat. We spent years chasing the sunrise, where the creatures contregate, at the brink of the day. And we caught one! It took months, we made a cage out of a boron-titanium alloy, which seems to insulate the Samsara from the rest of whatever it draws its power from. We took it back to our lab, and only did a few basic tests...
"Then it showed us its power. Within seconds, the cage was destroyed -- my partner killed, the lab destroyed and myself left penniless. It destroyed itself, such was its will to keep us away."
"But most intruiging of all was its flesh. It was made of a glimmering golden dust -- it was more like a machine than an animal -- all andgles and obits. I don't know why, but its kind cannot stand the night... they seem to circle the world, avoiding the night. You know the golden glimmer the sky takes on at sunset?"

Turu was really mobile now -- gesturing and raising her voice. This work was obviously what she lived for, not highwaywomanship.

"That light is the golden dust that makes their flesh." Turu took her fist from the trunk, and a golden light glowed out between her fingers. The bottle was all of two inches long, was tossed it to Asha.
"Insanely hard to capture. It's yours." Asha smiled, and tossed Iccio a pouch of coins, which was clumsily caught. Iccio tossed it back.

"I want you to carry on my research. But be wary, girl. I lost everything to their hands." Turu turned away, and stood silently for a moment.

"You're welcome to stay as long as you like. I have no company of my own."

"I... would like that."

-----

Sondossa. A well-planned city on the edge of the northern seas. Like most city-states, its affairs were run by money. Take the city gates, for example. They're hired out to various causes -- the National Health Service, for one. This orginisation hires a diseased beggar to stand at the gates, with a bucket. You pay ten shivo for the peasent not to breath on you. The beggar takes five shivo, the state takes the other half, and the NHS gets the business from those who can't pay.

All in all, it works out rather well.

In among the bubbling stew of multispecies activity, there is a dumpling of sense and practicality. It's the watch. Six hundred men, woman, dwarves, trolls, werebeings, lycan, menfish and one Panserbjørn keep the city in a well-planned order with a few words in the right ear and a lot of swords, knives, teeth, claws, poison-spitting glands and a well-clenched fist.

The leader of this is Astidu, a man who knows how people work. 'A good plan isn't where you win' -- he says -- 'It's where nobody thinks they've lost.' He sits at his big desk and drinks tea dark, strong as fine as mud. In the daytime, he's out on the rounds -- keeping an eye on the streets, plodding a well-trodden path. There's a line of indents in the older pavestones, they say, where his swordstick touches everyday on his passing. It's not true, of course, but it shows how devoted he is to his job. All stories are made for a reason.

But today he changes his route, today he stalks over the rooftops. Today he walked over the very edge of the city. Today he spots two women walking down a narrow, enclosed path that cannot be seen from the ground. One of them was Iccio Turu He watched them inside, and then smiles to himself as he renters the city centre -- sprinting only the last few streets, to make it seem as though he had to put energy into being brilliant. He bursts into the guardhouse, and yells the watch into wakefulness. When all bleary eyes are fixud upon him, he speaks loud with a contented malice.

"We've found Turu!"

[Awkin]

"Why do you carry a robe?" Asha had emptied her pack out onto the bed, looking for matches to light a fire for cooking. She stopped to strap her twin swords to her -- one on her back and one to her belt. This formation meant that the unsheathing of blades could be used as a defencive manoeuvre, creating a wall of metal between your opponent and yourself as you could spin with the movement, creating a sharp pirouette of imminent pain.

"Disciplining the body. Y'know... cold showers, chewing roots, hours in dark caves wearing nothing but a yak hide... that sort of thing. Makes you a stronger person." Pausing, she stuffs the garment back into her bag. "Bit conspicuous here, though."

"You mean that wearing a skirt makes you a bett--" CRASH

Asha twirled round to meet the incoming threat -- she knew before it hit her that it was a bear. Her swords raised in an X-block, the sheer might of its charge knocked her to the floor. Looking round, she knew they were about to get Turu. She scrambled to her feet, but the bear knocked her easily back down to the floor with one paw. Turu shrieked as two men got her from behind. The raiding party was five strong, two of which were on Turu, another two were guarding the doors and the bear was slowly circling Asha. She saw him swipe out at her, and jumped out of the way. She dropped her swords -- There is no way I can get past that armour. The bear swiped again, grunting in suprise at her impossibly quick reactions.

"...grau?"

Something clicked. The swords, and the bear, and the voice so deep it made your gut feel strange.

"Jhans Frenn." Asha spoke the bear's name quietly, and then tried to figure out why. The room fell still. The bear stopped, racking his brains for where they had met before. "I... shall come quietly?" Asha unhooked her twin scabbards, sheathed the blades and laid them down before the bear.

"You made these. Remember?" The bear's eyes rose to meet hers for the first time. They blazed blue in the half-light.

"Asha." Said Jhans. Asha smiled.

"That's right."

-----

Astidu stood as the party entered the room. Four guardsmen, clad in leather chest armour with chainmal pleats, flanked the two captives. One of which was Iccio Turu as myth knew her -- tanned skin, long dark plaits and a determined expression. The other was dressed up in a practical venturing tooled greatcoat, grapple slung across her shoulder. She talked freely to Jhans, his Panserbjørn officer. Turu reached the desk first, and stood with her arms crossed. Astidu thought: They came quietly? Astounding. There must have been an unforseen factor.
And then all five stood before him. Astidu was a well-built man, with a mat of blond hair which is rarely seen this far north. He placed both palms on his desk, and adopted a serious attitude.

"Welcome back, men." He turned to the captives. "Iccio, lady." He nodded to each respectively. "Klatcher, hand miss Turu your wallet."

"Me, sir?"

"Do it, Private. Thank you. Now, miss Turu -- do you swear to obey the law in all its forms?"

Iccio glanced at Asha. "I... do?"

"To uphold and revere the king's peace?" Iccio looked confused.

"Um, yes. Yes I do."

"Do you give you alleigance to this noble cause?" Suddenly, the penny dropped. If I was being poetic, It would have been a shilling.

"Yes I will," Iccio said, smiling broadly.

"To obey like the others who follow in your stead?"

"Of course!"

"To obey and excecute firmly and to the fullest extent of your skill?"

"Yes Sir!"

"To let a pregnant woman pee into your hat if she is, indeed, caught short in the marketplace on April the Third between the hours of nine and ten?"

"Damn right, sir!" Astidu's eyes were on fire. He'd been looking for the right one for the job for well over a year. And Iccio was all too enthausiastic.

"You're hired! I want you here and kitted out at eight tomorrow, to begin work by nine. It's all legal, the offical shilling's in that wallet." He turned to said officer. "Show private Turu to her room, and sort her some uniform. I want her to command the evening watch when Isaac retires. She'll make a fine guardswoman, if I'm any judge."
A lightening fast change of temprement followed:
"Which, I hasten to add, is more than you layabouts are showing me! Don't you have anything better to be doing? Clayton! Get on patrol!"

Guards jumped, and swarmed around the hall like bees in a hive. Turu melted into the crowd.

Astidu sat down moodily at his desk, swigging coffee from his tankard. Wiping his mouth with a sleeve, he froze -- and brought his eyes up sowly to meet Asha's. He opened his mouth to speak -- and stopped short as commotion bloomed at the door. It was flung open, and guardmen spilled in, a stretcher carried between two of them. Astidu hurried towards the hubbub, and met a youth running the other way.

"A dead man, sir. Found him on the road to Fenhei, sir, looks like a crossbow to the gizzard, sir --"

"Cut the 'sirs', lad, who is he?" The young guardsman looked disgruntled, and tried to move his face as far away from Astidu as is possible without actually moving.

"One of the men found his papers in his cart, sir. He called himself Harper."

They heard a yelp from the back of the room, and both turned to behold Asha -- pale and shaking.

[Awkin]

An hour passed. Asha sits in the corner, her mind racing. Finally, she raises the courage to lift the shroud. Taking care not to touch the body, she peels up a corner before hurridly dropping it again. It is Harper. And he's dead. Her inital reaction couldn't be spake, it was just a horrified 'Oh'. Harper had been her companion for these last weeks, and slowly it dawns on her that he's the only person who she really knows withing hundreds of miles.

A consul takes place round Astidu's desk, and Asha sits alone near the door, shoulders hunched, hands clasped. Her breathing is shallow with shock, and everytime something moves, it blurs slightly like oil over canvas. She sees a figure. She looks up.

"Hello Asha."

Asha looks up -- to behold Harper. Twice, she glances to the body laid out on the stretcher and back, before she realises a reply is expected. Tentatively, she replies:

"Umm... hello, Harper." She paused. Harper came and sat down next to her. "How are you, in yourself? I mean..."

"I'm dead, Asha. Did you mean apart from that?"

"No -- that's what I meant." Carefully, Asha lifted the shroud again. Um... yes. She turned back to Harper. "Look, at the risk of sounding silly -- you're dead, Harper. Shouldn't you, y'know, be somewhere?"


"Hey! Asha!" Astidu called across the room. Emerging from her reverie -- Asha wandered across, somehow glad to be out of Harper's presence. She strolled over and stood next to Jhans, before Astidu's desk. Glancing back, the bench was empty.

"Frenn here told me you knew this man."

"That's because I did."

"And that you're trying to 'Hunt angels.'"

"That is true." Astidu turned his back, but continued:

"Give me a reason for the watch to back this endavour."

...What?Astidu proves to be a mysterious man,Asha thought. What motives could he possibly have for backing my cause?

"One of the Samsara -- that's the 'angels' -- killed a man." Astidu clapped his hands, and turned round to face her.

"Right! So, this is an official watch investment, and so totally legal and supported. Corporal Frenn, you will be Miss Boden's guard and assist. Make it perfectly clear to any who oppose her that she is under our wing, alright? Good!"

-----

It is well past noon. Asha sits in the watchouse mess hall, sipping tea and watching the watch come and go. Wahaa! Who watches the watchmen? 'Tis me!

The muckle of the watch vary. The watchouse is a large place, hewn of limestone -- but not at all grand. The mess hall is, essentially, a crossroads of five immense wings of the building. One has been walled off and turned into what could be called a kitchen. It isn't, though. It's a place where vegetables, coffee beans, fruit, whole animal carcasses, seaweed, foreign delicacies and low-fat biscuits are left for the masses to help themselves.

These are, indeed, turbulent times. Without a leader, the city of Sondossa is being blindly led by this myriad of creatures. Blindly, and with no more ambitious aim then to wake up tomorrow with a body left to wake up with. As she watched, a Choras embassy is announced and fed, before being led up a spiral staircase. A guard sat down beside Asha.

"Asha Boden."

"Hello Who're you?"

"Nice to meet you,"

"A pleasure! I'm called Kiro."

Here, the man called Kiro paused. Asha, realising her mistake, bit her lip. Responding to speech that hasn't been said yet can sometimes pass, but she knew small but important parts of Kiro's brain were going 'Boooooooiooooioooiooing' and bouncing away across the floor.

Furrowing his brow, Kiro turned onto genocide of sausage. Asha walked away, looking for her bear guide.

She disliked that bear. Something about it made her feel really uneasy. It talked like a stupid thing, misunderstanding common phrases and asking what words meant. But every so often it would come out with something so sharp, that it sliced this illusion in two like a razorblade through candyfloss. For a moment, it would seem like an extremely clever thing twisting you round its finger, and then it would go back to stupid so convincingly that you barely noticed it at all.

Arms folded, Asha leant against a pillar in the foyer, and waited.

[Awkin]

It is well past noon. Asha sits in the watchouse mess hall, sipping tea and watching the watch come and go. Wahaa! Who watches the watchmen? 'Tis me!

The muckle of the watch vary. The watchouse is a large place, hewn of limestone -- but not at all grand. The mess hall is, essentially, a crossroads of five immense wings of the building. One has been walled off and turned into what could be called a kitchen. It isn't, though. It's a place where vegetables, coffee beans, fruit, whole animal carcasses, seaweed, foreign delicacies and low-fat biscuits are left for the masses to help themselves.

These are, indeed, turbulent times. Without a leader, the city of Sondossa is being blindly led by this myriad of creatures. Blindly, and with no more ambitious aim then to wake up tomorrow with a body left to wake up with. As she watched, a Choras embassy is announced and fed, before being led up a spiral staircase. A guard sat down beside Asha.

"Asha Boden."

"Hello Who're you?"

"Nice to meet you,"

"A pleasure! I'm called Kiro."

Here, the man called Kiro paused. Asha, realising her mistake, bit her lip. Responding to speech that hasn't been said yet can sometimes pass, but she knew small but important parts of Kiro's brain were going 'Boooooooiooooioooiooing' and bouncing away across the floor.

Furrowing his brow, Kiro turned onto genocide of sausage. Asha walked away, looking for her bear guide.

She disliked that bear. Something about it made her feel really uneasy. It talked like a stupid thing, misunderstanding common phrases and asking what words meant. But every so often it would come out with something so sharp, that it sliced this illusion in two like a razorblade through candyfloss. For a moment, it would seem like an extremely clever thing twisting you round its finger, and then it would go back to stupid so convincingly that you barely noticed it at all.

Arms folded, Asha leant against a pillar in the foyer, and waited.

-----
Kandred came into existence.

It asked itself: Why?

-----

Jhans pads through the street, his massive shoulder blades jutting out as he shifted his weight from paw to paw. As the building thin out and the cobbles melt into snow and pine needles below his feet, Jhans movs into the graveyard. It is a beautiful, peaceful place with massive trees and immense stone archways, ornate graves and dark ivy. Jhans approaches one of the trees, a massiev willow, and moves aside the curtain of leaves into the almost cavern-like space within.

The last time he'd made this journey, he's been blindfolded from here on in. But this was of no concern to Jhans. He closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply through his nose. He padded his feet on the spot. He remembered the feel of the willow curtain, the smell of elderflower, shortly followed by a myriad of small rocks flanking his footfalls.

Moving through the curtain, he looks -- and spots an elderflower tree, its flowers haning limply. Moving up to it, he sees a small scree of small stones from a statue of a muse.

Hmm. Next came a hollow into which my forearm stumbled.

Jhans spotted the hole, and the gap in the foilage. his probing paw fitted perfectly.

This was going to be easier than he thought.

[Awkin]

A thought flickered across the plane of Kandred's consciousness.

Well, why not?

-----

Asha lies on the bed in her small room. It is generous enough -- with concrete walls, a modest fireplace, and a window which is open to its fullest extent: three inches. Jhans took his leave some hours ago, and hasn't returned since. For the second time in as many hours, she rallies the determination to get up and do something. Something that didn't involve the morg, or the canteen. Closing her door quietly behind her, she sets out towards the foyer.

A golem passes her, taking up most of the hallway. She waits for it to pass in a sheltered doorway, before continuing. She wandered through the maze of passages, marvelling at framed maps and wall hangings -- when she passed a row of lockers. It was just like the next row, full-length and flaking turquoise paint, but this one had the sound of music coming from inside.

Opening the door, Asha steps inside -- into a yurt, on a soft moss flooring. Harper sits on a crate, playing the flamenco guitar. Sighing through her nose, Asha shuts the locker behind her, and crosses her arms. Harper looks up.

"Pull up a crate. We have coffee." He smiles, but Asha doesn't move.

"You know, if you want me to believe you're dead, you have to act like it. I refuse to believe a dead man is living in a yurt where a locker should be. And if you dare mention trans-dimensional physics I will hit you."

The locker opened, and Asha found herself being attacked by a wet greatcoat. Ducking under the outstretched arms of its owner and blushing furiously, Asha ran back to her room, and straight into Jhans. The bear looked down at her with his cold blue stare, and Asha felt the urge to carry on running from this monster. He spoke, and shook the floor with his basso profundo of a growl.

"I have found someone who can help you."

-----

Asha has to run to keep in with Jhans' mighty lope as they plough through the graveyard. Jhans seems to know exactly where they're going, and he explains it on the run.

"There is a rebel group that exists outside of the city, in utmost secret. I was taken, blindfolded, to their abode before the raid on Turu -- and tracked them down earlier this day. They deal in everything, but a big interest is killing people."

"...Killing?"

"And science, and alchemy, and accordion playing. You shall be quite safe." Asha stopped short. Jhans slowed, and turned to face her.

"Is this some new definition of safe I haven't heard of? You want me to go willingly into a place full of accordion players?" Jhans blinked.

"Do you want to find your angels?" He turned and continued; knowing she would follow.

-----

It looked like the entrance to an old sewer network, moss grows over a stone arch built into a rockface: broken bits of rusted iron bars jutting out like teeth in a maw. Jhans paused to let Asha enter first.

"I'll watch your back."

The tunnel was short, and turned but twice before opening out into a hall. It wasn't big, it wasn't grand, in fact it was almost identical to a church hall, with uncomfortable stackable chairs, a squash court marked on the floor with tape, and a sign saying 'Please leave the premises as you would like to find it." This was the first time Asha had been confronted with a sign like this and, pausing for thought, she tore it down. That's how I'd like to find the premises, She thought, without the obnoxious signs.. A strange, tall white pole was propped up in the corner of the hall, and from ti hung many multi-coloured ribbons.

She could hear Jhans slowly bellycrawling along the tunnel, struggling to make the bend. As she waited for him -- Some men entered. They wore waistcoats and black shirts and breeches, with long molly sticks in their hands, and bells on ribbons round their shins. Morris dancers. One of them had an old, battered piano accordion, on which he struck a jaunty tune. .. and the dance begun, the men hopping around and hitting each other with their sticks. It was well-practiced, a man might swing around and it seemed he was about to clout another over the head with a molly, when his own came up to meet it. The tune got faster and faster...

"Asha!"

Jhans, having turned the final bend and alerted to the music, shouted her name. She looked down the tunnel at him, before turning back to watch the dance. He said more, but she was upset with him and more interested in the dance anyway.

She leaned against a wall, and found a lever. Asha was relatively new to the world -- and hadn't yet learnt not to pull strange levers foolishly left where people can find and, invariably, pull them.

Training dummies fell from the ceiling, suspended by ropes. Instantly, the morris men let out a fierce howl, and the world was a loud, violent place to be in.

She'd never seen such a fray. Flaming white handkerchiefs, twirling sticks -- the bells came flying off the shoes and exploded on impact -- The accordion player let out one shrill note, and the front fell off as six hundred red-hot balls of led were sent flying, to bring a hasty end to well over twenty training dummies.

One of the men took off his hat and stood on it, and the pole in corner suddenly sprang into life, twirling around on its motorised spinning-top base. Death by razor-edged ribbons soon met the wall display, a morris ninja and a good deal of the dummies.
Asha watches all this while pressed against the wall, mortified by the sudden change of atmosphere. Jhans finally emerges from the tunnel, and hooks her up under one mighty arm, before dodging his way across the crowded room and into the relative safety of the next.

-----

Because!

[Awkin]

Asha expected a scolding, a firm reprimand from Jhans for being so Khallas, and ignoring his words. But instead he cornered her, bringing his muzzle close to hers, and she can smell his reek of foul, rotting meat. And Asha was swamped by the need to run, overwhelmed by the feeling of such close, violent power -- unhuman and untamed. She felt the need to run, to flex her paws and tense for landing -- an involuntary spasm of her will to escape rattled through her. And Jhans stood down.

He looked at her confusedly, trying to make sense of what had happened. But Asha felt that no one could ever make sense of this lonely girl. When Jhans did speak, his voice was fairly soft -- but still slightly brackish with irritation.

"You were foolish to ignore my warning." And he turned swiftly, on down the corridor. After a moment, Asha hurries after.

Through the dingy halls they go. Green moss grows on walls of gray stone -- the pathways going onwards and splitting like roots of some mighty tree, bustling people the blood. Asha wonders is trees have blood. There's so much she doesn't know. Her thoughts are interrupted by Jhans, who growls quietly to her.

"I was brought here before, blindfolded. I was meant never to return. If we are attacked, do not hesitate to kill. These people would have shown you no mercy."

Shaken by these words, she starts to pay more attention to those passing -- who looked quite... normal. She cast aside the bear's words of warning.

Before long, they came to a door, thick-set into a stone wall, and they stand in its alcove. Asha reaches out tentatively to knock, but Jhans brutally shoulders the door open. Asha suddenly wishes she'd thought to change back into her robes before following the bear through.

The office wasn't all that big, with a globe in the corner and clock on the wall and a desk -- behind which sat a man on a... very interesting chair. Asha noticed it had wheels. But that wasn't nearly as interesting as the man himself.

Tall and exceptionally lean, he looks her over with a pair of eyesockets. Tied tight around his shin is a ribbon of bells, hanging all around him and bunched round the waist is the garb of the morris men, and perched jauntily on his scalp is a straw hat. He sat perfectly still for just long enough to give Asha the impression of demortality, when he glanced up -- smiling as only a skeleton can. A morbid scene, bespoilt entirely by his voice -- which was not the rough growl of sullen corpses, nor the eerie screech of nails down a blackboard, but the voice of a fat man who finds a whoopee cushion the height of comedic brilliance, and it prepared to chuckle at length whenever one is used in his presence. He did not pale when Jhans walked in, but he would have done.

"Ah -- Mr. Frenn. I did not except to see you again."

Asha was on the verge of screaming, of running right back to the watchouse -- this wasn't right. For in all her short existence, she was as yet unintroduced to the finer details of death. She saw it as but a sleep -- to be woken from afterwards in agony. And yet here was a human, speaking and moving -- fleshless, hairless, skinless. Her thoughts were interrupted by Jhans.

"You owe me a favor Jacobi."

"I owe nothing, Jhans. The deal was that you never returned."

"I gave you your information, you help me now." Jhans' heckles rose. Jacobi fiddled with his fingers, bone on bone clicking stoutly..

"It depends on what you need." He shot Jhans an askew glance, something that works surprisingly well when you have no eyeballs. He laid both hands on the desk and leaned forwards. "And what I get in return." Jhans' jaw tightened. Again, Asha felt the surge of animal ferociousness -- just what she's been avoiding for all of her existence... But this time it felt different, it spread out like a wall -- shielding her, protecting her from the real predator -- who was on the other side of the desk.

"What do you mean, Jacobi?" Jacobi laughed, and recoiled back, crossing his arms.

"I hear you have fallen in with the watch, Jhans. Since last we met, you have become a person of power, of influence. I'd like the watch to back my operations." Jacobi didn't noticeably change his tone of voice, but he went on almost wistfully, staring at a point some feet to the side of the bear. "We are not far apart, Jhans. We need allies, you and me both. I need revenge. And for that I need power." And suddenly his soul was red with rage, and he turned for the first time to Asha.

"Do you know how many people starved to death in the laws inflicted by this government? Over ten thousand morris dancers, and a coconut salesmen with interesting advertising methods." He stopped. When it was obvious he wasn't going to continue, Asha steeled herself to speak -- her lips dry and cracked.

"Why the one coconut salesmen?" Jaboci raised himself triumphantly, and brought one accusing finger slicing through the air at arm's length to point at her face.

"You see? You see? Nobody cares about the morris men. One singing, dancing coconut vendor is more important than thousands of us! And it makes me so, so... angry!" Jhans gave Asha the 'You've put your foot it in, huh,' look and turned back to the skeletal figure.

"The watch is not at my beck and call, Jacobi. I will put forth your case, however."

"And how will that help? I have put it forth a thousand times before." Jacobi stands the slightly deflated stance that comes from a sudden bringing back from anger to normality, but looks on sharply. Not even death could stop some people. You needed a special kind of mind to become an undead. Not insane, more like... through sane and out the other side, where sane is as flexible as reality if it helps prove your point.

"It will carry more weight from me." As far as Asha could tell, the skeletal figure was considering. He didn't speak for some seconds after Jhans' comment -- and seems to have quite forgotten his moment of rage.

"...What do you need?"

"The human and I are searching for an elusive kind. They take the form of angels and ride the wave of dawn light over this world. We need an edge -- a weapon, a sleeping drink, anything that will help us get close enough to talk to one of them." Jhans paused to scrutinize Jacobi's expression, but he is the kind who wins at poker -- not only because he has no muscles left to twitch."You have the leading alchemists, scientists, engineers and theologians on this side of the Sondan plains. If anyone can help us, it is you and your kind."

"Jhans, science doesn't spring out of nowhere. We'll need something to work off -- charts of their biology, known chemical resiliences, we need something to exploit. Can you catch one and bring it back here?" Jhans' expression said everything. It said: Look you stupid human, you've missed a point and it's a big one and you seem very, very disposable right now and if you pretend that don't have less than three brain cells then I'll pretend that I don't have claws that can rend through steel. Jacobi's vocal chords ground back into motion nervously, weighing every word. "No? Well, I'll need records, accounts..."

"I, umm, have this..." Asha reaches into her jacket and produces the tiny phial, containing the cell of the angel -- the tiny mote of glittering light that swirls gracefully around its prison, leaving behind it a red tail, existant only within the retina. "It's a part of an Angel, it's what they're... made of, see." She remembered why she was avoiding contributing to the conversation as Jacobi returned her gaze.

"You are not the first to seek these creatures?" Asha shook her head. Jacobi continued, slowly. "Then I will see what I can do. Come back in a week -- and leave that little bottle with me. Jhans, I expect you to honor your end of the agreement -- alright? I'll give this to my best theologians and see what they can come up with."

"Thank you, sir," Asha toned, excitement at possible results only slightly marred by a week's wait. Jhans was, as ever, stolid.

"Good. Asha, come." And they left.

-----

Kandred's last thoughts were: 'All the questions, why am I...' But before he finished, he gave up his mortality and made sure the experiment was never repeated.

He so became the last. But he was, rather more importantly, not the first.