Vienda's covered market had been vast and breathtaking, if you were from out of town. Emme had grown up accustomed to the red-tinted panels and arching iron bars. She missed them now.

Her hood covered her fair hair entirely, and for extra measure she had wrapped it in a cloth. Among these dark-haired Kohore she stood out like a wick in an opera house, and it was hardly any better with her skin tone, which was ruddy and fair. She tried to draw as little attention to herself as possible.

While the stall-tender was looking the other way, her hands darted out and took a piece of round fruit from the stand. These people are rubes, she thought. Entirely unused to city folk. True, the migrant wicks barely brought any crime with them, but the people of Anhau simply hadn't been prepared for modern culture - they knew nothing of devices or machines, were baffled by slang, and often had no idea how to deal with the sudden influx of visitors. Their concept of reciprocity was alien to the nomads, and vice versa.

It hadn't been difficult to find a place to stay, all the same; the priestesses of the Kohore were confused, but happy to help a young religious woman who had lost her way due to the loose morals of the outside world. It was a story they had been ready to believe.

What a liar I've become, thought Emme ruefully. She did her duties in the temple like any other visitor, sweeping the stone steps and lighting the tallow candles and mumbling wordlessly along when the others were saying prayers. But they had no money here, and she was not related to any family with prestige, nor did she have anything to barter. The priestesses ate almost nothing but hard bread with a kind of rancid tree oil. So she stole.

The fruit was delicious, especially after that carefully nicked last meal, which had turned out to be a type of large beetle. Her face was being stained red by the juices. She ate greedily until the fruit was gone, and then mourned it; she squatted by the Aqueduct to wash, then rose and shouldered her pack, determined to make it to Roekshir today.

It was a climb that daunted most outsiders. She had been assigned it, she imagined, as a practical joke. The steep valley-side was treacherous and she was ungainly and awkward. Some of the other wicks had taken to jokingly referring to the Anhai as "noble savages" - not very noble, she thought bitterly.

One foot before the other. She wobbled on some loose rock, then regained her footing, determined not to let the slick stone defeat her again. The wind was blowing easterly today, so there was less rain than usual. The bag on her back was ludicrously heavy, and her muscles had wasted away into nothing, making her the object of some ridicule among the Kohore. Emme glared at nothing in particular and vowed to show them that she could do something competently, something they likely did every day.

Another three steps and she had fallen hard on her tailbone, and she spent the next ten to thirty seconds trying not to cry angrily about it. She instead allowed herself a loud outburst of profanity when the shock crawled up her spine.

Reokan stood at the edge of the rock face, leaning casually on his spear, crossbow slung over his back. The morning breeze played in his sandy hair and the bright sunlight warmed his face. Breathing deeply, he looked over Anhau, summer green eyes ever watchful.

There was a noise, a slipping, crumbling of rock...a painful thump, and after a moment, unfamilar words said in a bitter and angry tone. Moving slightly, he looked down at the young priestess.

"You know, the climb to Roek is an arduous journey for such a small, young woman. Especially one so tightly bound she cannot see for the cloth in her eyes." Moving nimbly down the rockface, like some sort of primate, he stopped in front of her and held out a strong hand to help her up, dimpled cheeks smiling warming at the girl.

Emme was embarrassed and indignant, a near-permanent state of being for her these last few weeks, and rushed clumsily to her feet without taking the man's hand. A small woman, was she? Her back complained mutinously as she straightened up, brushed off her apron and pushed back her crooked hood and scarf.

It was only then that she could see the helpful stranger. He was tall and bronze and would have looked wildly out of place on the streets of Vienda; he was more animal than man, it seemed, radiating with something she assumed was instinct, that most forgotten of intelligences. Her eyes bulged. A piece of corn-colored hair had escaped from her scarf; she pushed it back hurriedly.

"Thanks but I'm fine thank you anyway," she said in one breath, wondering what the bizarre feeling in her abdomen could be. He had a spear! Had she ever known anyone who owned a spear? Probably not. She reminded herself that it was an apparatus for killing people, and straightened up a little more, trying to keep her pale face in shadow.

Reokan pulled his hand back, smiling. So the small thing had pride, and spirit. He was pleasantly impressed. As she straighted her clothing, the roek noticed the way she tried to hide herself inside her clothing. Stepping back a little, he gestured.

"Well, I believe it is only polite to let you lead the way up then." he said, extending his hand with a small bow. He knew strong willed women like this girl. They could easily see Reokan leading the way as a curr on their pride. Straightening, he looked the girl over once again. She was quite small, and her skin a little paler than he would have expected, but then those women in the temples never did get much sun. The perpeptual aura she gave off felt strange too.

"Where did you set out from?" He asked in a friendly tone, but his mind was thinking things over, considering things. It was a roek's place to protect Anhau, and to Reokan, that meant from all the things that could harm her. Inside and out.

Sabu skipped across the rocks on the craggy ridge. His house by the forest was one of the furthest from the village in the whole valley, and each day he ventured onto the streets started with a climb that he had come to relish. After all, the Roek were the ridge dwellers, it was in his blood to enjoy navigating the stones that ringed his beloved home.

Things had been slim yesterday. Aside from some hard little berries he wasn't sure about (he must make sure to see Tzul Droon about them) nothing of interest had been found in his daily rooting through the forest. Still, he'd been drying some assorted herbs. Wild sage, some sweet greens, and some witch hazel. He always wondered why it was called that, perhaps the women had some specific use for it? As it was, his sash was full of these various treasures, and he took every care to keep them inside while he hopped down the last big ridge, Anhau stretched out before him. A more worthy thing to protect, he could never find.

Admiring the way that the morning sun caught the sandstone buildings, he heard a conversation a little under him. Peering down from his perch, he saw... a small witch, it looked like. Yes, definitely a witch, and a very fair one too. As pale as her skin was, he knew she was not of her tribe, which explained why she was unfamiliar to him. The other person though, with the spear and the easy smile, he knew that man very well.

"Reokan Agurne!" He bellowed out to his tribesman. He waved to the powerful looking hunter in characteristic good nature. "Is this a friend of yours? If so, would you mind introducing her?"

He deftly hopped down from his position higher up the ridge, and slid down the rest of the way. It was an easy, practiced motion, one learned from constant boyhood races against his sister. He looked into the eyes of the strange witch and bowed, oblivious to the fact as tall as he was, she might not like him so close. "I am Sabu Imani! May I ask your name?"

Oh, sugar, thought Emme.

It was not that she was in hiding, or outright pretending to be Kohore - not exactly, anyway. After all, the priests in the Order certainly knew she was a foreigner. It would be easy enough to prove that she wasn't from Anhau. She had just rather hoped to avoid questions of any sort, to blend in with the crowd. More people talking to her meant more scrutiny and more questions, and that meant more danger, especially if word was really traveling from Anhau as fast as people claimed.

She turned towards Sabu with a surprised look that inched towards a smile. It wouldn't do to smile. That would only encourage them.

"Hello," she said, then coughed. "I mean, junta. My name is Ysiel."

It seemed the old-fashioned name "Ysiel" was still in some use in Anhau, if not widespread. It was a more believable name here than it had been in Old Rose, in any case. She forced herself to look apathetic. Gets easier every time, she told herself.

"Nice to meet you," she added, bowing. The bow hadn't taken too long to learn. It was just deeper and more patient than the one she had become accustomed to whipping out for galdori officers and customers at the bakeshop. It was the accent that was troublesome, full of subtle lilting and alveolar hopskotch that she couldn't quite match. She hoped that these men hadn't met many Kohore in their days.

Reokan...was that his name? She glanced back at the tall man, wondering if it was just common courtesy around this city to offer to lead people places. She'd encountered helpful wicks at every turn here. It was surreal; in Vienda, if someone offered to 'show you the way' anywhere, you were due for a mugging or worse.

He had asked a question, hadn't he?

"Er...Luahe Temple," she answered him quickly. "I've got supplies for Roekshir. For...the er...the warriors." She jiggled the bag, which was a stupid thing to do, as rice and bamboo shoots didn't make much of a sound. Stop talking, she reminded herself. "And I already know the way." Stop talking!

Reokan looked up as the boisterous Sabu approached, smiling and nodding to the man. He liked Sabu, even if he had the voice of a thousand stampeding deer.



The sandy haired man looked down at the girl with a sort of shrug, waiting to find out exactly whom he was introducing. She was so nervous, and so...foreign. The man's smile faded like a clouding sky, and he looked Ysiel over. There wasn't much to her, but she definitly had a field to her. One of those travelling wicks, with the colors and the loud noises. No self control or sense. Like flapping chirping whice.



Reokan watched her shake the bag pathetically, frown on his face as he thought. She was dressed in temple garb, and she appeared to be genuine. If the priestess' had taken her in, surely she could be somewhat trusted? Confident in his own skills, he nodded.

"Welcome to this place, Ysiel. The warriors would surely appreciate gifts from the temple." Carefully, Reokan had welcomed her to this specific area, but had not welcomed her to Roekshir. This...outsider garbed in anhau clothing would not be as easily accepted by the roek as she was by the kohore.

Sabu's head tilted to one side as he listened to the young lady talk. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Ysiel. Do you not have a family name? Or is that the name of your family? You are not from Anhau, are you? Is that the naming tradition of your tribe? Are you from one of the outside tribes?" Sabu's curiosity got the better of him as he spouted off questions, one question making another inquiry pop into his mind. When the little witch shook her bag, Sabu broke into a smile.

"Ah, the priestesses do so much for us! I think when you go back, you must take some of my herbs to them! I'm sure they can put them to good use!" then he took a good look at the little thing, carrying the pack weighed down by provisions. So small boned and fair, rather waif like. Sabu was almost certain she was not from his village. "But you are so small! Surely you did not intend on going up the ridge carrying this by yourself! Ysiel, I must insist that I help you along the way! It would not do for you to fall off the ridge and be hurt!" Sabu's eyes looked at her earnestly. "It really would be no trouble, Ysiel."

Emme's eyes squinted guiltily. A barrage of questions, exactly the sort of thing she had been avoiding. Well, there goes that brilliant disguise, she thought to herself.

"Morrow," she said, flustered, saying the first name that came to mind. "Uh. I'm from the eh, the...you know." She gestured aimlessly, hoping her uncertainty would come across as nervousness at meeting two strangers. "Yellow Tail. Eye! Yellow Eye."



Part of her bristled at the comment, and a bubble of morbid laughter rose in her throat. She must have lost weight while being held against her will. Already short, she was admittedly dwarfed by the tall, strong Roek. I can carry a bloody bag, she wanted to say. But it was heavy, annoying as that was to admit, and awkward to carry.

"That's very...kind of you," she said, wondering if this was some kind of cultural test, like the time the fisherman had offered her a banana from his rival's stand. With some trepidation she handed him the bag, hoping it was the proper thing to do. Perhaps he wanted to show off his strength, and belittling her was only a part of it. She threw in a half-bow for the sake of it.

Uncertain, she hovered, wondering if she was still required to make the climb. Oh, but the sisters would be wanting a reply. No doubt still waiting on the thanks that would always come too little and too late for their liking. Emme saw the relationship between the Kohore and the Roek from an outsider perspective; each was too proud to get along with the other.

She glanced at Reokan, wondering if he might think less of her for accepting help. The thought annoyed her, for some reason.

Sabu grinned at the bow and at the reluctance that she offered the bag. "Ha, you are very respectful Ysiel Morrow!" He returned the bow with a deep one of his own as he slung the bag over his shoulder. He wasn't as well muscled as Reokan, but he was a head and a half taller and his strength was in his bones and sinew. The bag might as well have been a pillow. "I too, would like to welcome you to this place! Anhau was meant to be a safe haven for wicks! From what I hear of the outside world, we need such a place!"

Bouncing a bit on the balls of his feet, the grin remained after his words. He found these wandering wicks to be interesting, like the myriad flowers of the jungle by his house. Each unique and bright. "Have you ever been to Roekshir before, Ysiel Morrow? Is this your first climb up? Have you gotten any scrapes yet? Have you met the apothecary Tzul Droon? He's a very nice fellow! Oh, and I must introduce you to the Laskals, small thing that you are! They shall make a proper meal for you!" Sabu was in his own world a bit, curiosity and excitement taking him.

Reokan watched the interaction as Sabu laid down a barrage of questions at the outsider. She was not of Anhau, that was true. But she was not like these other wicks, not a walking quilt of whice. And their was something more, pride, defiance, strength. The man did not trust her, did not welcome her into his home so easily as Sabu, but he wasn't an unfriendly person by nature. If Ysiel Morrow had thought she could just walk into Roek without so much as a hello however, she was wrong. And unfortunatly for her, Sabu was probably the worst she could have stumbled across. As she handed her goods over to the chatterbox, Reokan caught her eye briefly, and nodded, his smile returning.



The green eyed hunter raised a hand, planting it firmly on Sabu's shoulder.

"Sabu Imani! Breathe! The girl has not been to roekshir before, if she had, I would have known." He chuckled, patting the shoulder under his hand.

"You are like a fountain of words, my friend. Beautiful for a while...but then you realise you can't turn it off." He glanced at Ysiel again and winked.

Unbeknownst by the three on the ridge, was the proximity of a doe. She leaned on careful feet, her large eyes peering cautiously around a rock. This doe had two legs and her drab clothing kept her well hidden in the shadowy brows of stone and her eyes were muddy yellow instead of deep brown, but over the years, Murron Uita had become quite doe-like. Soundlessly touching her red and stinging cheek reminded her why. A harsh backhand from a big Roek merchant reminded one rather swiftly. Of course, she wasn't going to steal the dates, but it was hard to convince someone otherwise as one forever forbidden to speak. She was thankful that another, an Ethia farmer woman, had been kind enough to trade with her for the handful of dates.

In fact, were it not for the dates, Murron would not have eaten her meal behind that rock and thus would not have seen this series of events unfold before her.

She'd intended to assist the outsider girl, but the appearance of Reokan (whose presence still filled her with quivering and small sliver of trepidation) had reminded her of the merchant’s mistrustful eyes. She had no wish for the hunter to see her. Sabu's arrival had made hiding that much harder, even if his steady hailstorm of questions made more noise than a pack of excited banders. If any of the three stood the best chance of spotting her, it was Sabu; he'd had years of practice doing so.

So, she takes food to Roekshir, Murron gathered as they spoke. A gift from the Kohore priestesses, Murron did not think Durg Solexa would much appreciate such a "gift", proud as he was. Especially since the gift was delivered by an outsider.

Murron knew this was none of her business, that these affairs were not for one such as her. Two grown Roek men were perfectly capable of escorting a little outsider girl to Roekshir without her watching. And yet...and yet...a whisper bade her quietly follow the trio. Murron did not know the source of the barely felt voice. She was certainly no Kohore priestess, the Gods and the spirits certainly were better off speaking to them than a Roek murderess. Murron doubted she could find much favor of the world's powers to be privy to their murmurs. This feeling was certainly more than curiosity, though. There was nothing before her to see which she had already had not and there was no temptation to be felt. It was a gentle urging.

Murron decided that she would follow them, leaving her bag where it sat, camouflaged in its crevice, and to her best to stay silent and remain unseen.