“Mommy! Mommy!”

  Those cries of a child were still as strong, still as mighty, as the child who had yelled them, easily getting lifted out of the water she had jumped into by her father and held in his arms, while her mother didn’t even look her way, walking off with a brown jingling sack.

  ‘mommy…’ a weak display, befitting of a shedling, not a newly become adult, who had yet to discover her magic. “Mother, father, Noktrala, Nokibaly, Nokeehutro, Arcsho.”

  Each name was a breath of air that bubbled up as she opened her eyes and surfaced, gently floating on her back, arms at her side, spitting out some of the water in her maw.

  She glanced to the side, seeing the slave pen. Few ever came here, willingly or without purpose, so it was easy to find peace and quiet, especially before the light left her and the water grew cold.

  ‘How much I have risen, before this was a luxury out of my grasp, but now it is normal,’ she thought, getting out of the water and feeling it run down between her body and shedding scales separating them with utter ease. She had always found it somewhat enjoyable to do so, the cooling and itching sensation mixing and dissipating in favor of one or the other.

  Once she had reached into all crevasses, she pulled it off like clothing, taking a moment to watch the ripped scales. ‘Those who can take these off with barely any damage are truly extraordinary, I suppose. A shame mine aren’t worth a single coin, unlike the disgraced former hunter commander, Nok… what was her name again?”

  Not that it mattered like her shedded scales, and like the thought, she discarded every piece, dropping them into the calm stream.

  As ripples quelled, she looked at her reflection and groaned at her face, where the flames had gnawed at her. ‘Still not the same color. Perhaps next time.’

  Knowing it so, Nokqotir got dressed, feeling her fine clothes on her fresh scales, before heading into the slave pen, walking the halls with familiarity, arriving at the end of the corridor.

  She could hear a mixture of faint growling and whimpering at her arrival from the others, but not from the cell she stood in front of, with that murderous son of House Krosk, sitting chained, his fur looking mostly dried.

  Glaring at him as he glared at her, she slowly reached out and grabbed one of the bars right in front of her, imagining it being his neck, slowly squeezing, and smiling. ‘I’ll be patient for as long as it takes, as long as, eventually, I see the light leave those eyes, and eat you up.’

  The son of house Krosk watched her, then moved his arm, the chain rattling and clanking, as he pointed to the left side of his face, evilly smiling back at her.

  Both stayed locked like that for a very long time, “Enjoy that while you can, prey tastes best when it’s afraid.”

  Leaving that place, a surge of anger and weakness rushed through her body, and there was only one thing she knew that would remedy that: a habit she’d partly cultivated back since the time she was still the commander of Polali.

  Walking these now acquainted streets below the surface, she was greeted by the people, and she greeted them back, though not that she had any interest in doing so.

  Her only real interest, one shared by the village, was a storage building, under heavy watch from guards, who, prior to her arrival, were relaxing and playing games such as overflow. That much was evident from the cup of water on the ground.

  “Second in command, you are earlier than normal,” The guard said, clearly nervous.

  “Open the door,” she commanded them.

  Her order was carried out with speed, fueled by fear, a wordless apology for her having caught them. Though she didn’t care one way or the other what they were doing as long as they stayed out of her business, as once she stepped inside, the door closed.

  ‘So breathtaking,’ she thought as her eyes absorbed the glittering yellow light inside, of Amito’s bounty, such utter beauty, golden gold, mixed with glittering crystals.

  She couldn’t help but fall on her knees, as her hands reached inside, feeling it, the slickness, seeing her colored reflection.

  As much as she could grasp, she would lift ever so slightly above the crate it was in, stareing long and deeply at what she held, as her grip, slowly tightened, more and more, pieces she no longer could hold, falling down, yet she did not stop, gripping harder and harder, until a sharp jagged edge of a crystal she hadn’t noticed, drew blood.

  It was that which caused her to sigh, though not in pain, as she let go and wiped her hand in the sand.

  Leaving, she paid no attention to the guards and only greeted the people out of courtesy, as she headed off to be healed.

  Seeing the same sight many times before, there was an enormous line of people waiting to be healed. ‘Black Beak, you might be the best, but I want it gone now.”

  Instead, she walked ahead until she found the other healer, who, from what she had heard, would be a little plebo, nibbling at you, while hiding behind Lord Dorktra, but it was better than waiting for, as Black Beak said, ‘her body healing normally’.

  Inside the room was very clean and sand looking almost perfectly even down to the grain, with the back of the room having patterns drawn, the artist hunched down with his back turned.

  She admired the sight of the young man as his tail moved, not in any alluring fashion as some men tended to do many times, unaware of it, but eye-catching either way.

  Slowly approaching, she felt a little playful, her footsteps silenced by the sand as she snuck up on him and leaned over slightly, hovering above him. “What are you drawing?”

  “Kenneth is down the street.”

  ‘What kind of reaction is that?’ She wondered confusedly for a moment, feeling as though she had been fooled in one manner or another. “Pushing your work off on Black Beak, you are a lazy healer.”

  He slowly came up standing and met her gaze, and looked her over. “You don’t look dying.”

  “I hope not, but you are here to remedy that even if,” Nokqotir said in a light tone, holding out her hand. “Heal this, would you?”

  “Yes… um… so how did you hurt yourself?” The healer asked, taking her hand.

  From the glow that emanated from him, she felt her hand getting better already; the annoying pain with each slight movement was gone. “Do healers do it differently here? I’ve rarely known one to speak during, and not directly at me?”

  With a small sigh, the healer gently let go, “Sorry, noblewoman, second. It is my teacher, Kenneth, who told me to practice my bedside manner with those whom I heal.”

  “The only bedside manners I need are someone finishing the job,” Nokqotir laughed heartily.

  “He always uses strange words, like ‘just.’ I assume he’s trying to say justice, but never finishes the word,” The healer told her. “But I guess these bedside manners have nothing to do with, well, the obvious, but making someone feel comfortable.”

  “Aren’t you still talking about the same thing?” Nokqotir smiled.

  “By comfortable, he means to make them feel at ease, since their wounds with his healing will take longer to heal.”

  “But you know, he is impressive, doing everything you do, but without magic, and doing it better.”

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  The healer paused for a moment. “I don’t think he’s better, only he does everything I do not, and I do everything he cannot.”

  “You are not like I’ve heard, healer, you aren't far more—“

  “It’s Nokset,” he interrupted. “I have a name, so do use it.”

  “Hmph… the rumors do seem to be somewhat true, it seems, healer,” Nokqotir commented.

  “Maybe,” he scoffed, pausing for a moment, then sighing. “But use my name.”

  “But you are a healer, are you not?”

  “Yes, but even so, my name is Nokset,” he restated, looking at her unflinchingly.

  ‘Oh, now that’s reminiscent,’ she thought, hissing in slight interest. “You are something of a healer, Nokset.”

  “No, I would say I’m fairly normal,” he replied immediately, probably not a doubt in his mind about that.

  The stubbornness and steadfastness, she quite liked that.

  Forwardly, she grabbed him, his confusion obvious by his scales, while she looked down at him, admiring the sight, only speaking as he opened his mouth, enjoying cutting him off. “ Nokset, next time you pray to Utoku, how about you come to me?”

  He looked taken aback and surprised, his scales whitening as such, as he replied, “I… yes, I can find time.”

  She stayed like that for a moment, then let go and turned around to leave her destination, the Grand Hall.

  Nokqotir noticed guards patrolled the streets on the surface much more thoroughly than when she had left to relax in the waters. Outside her destination, people were already lining up to gain entry, some who hoped to slip through the cracks, mostly children and young adults, getting turned away, while she walked right on by, her brooch perfectly aligned, straight, and on full display.

  ‘How paranoid of them all, no one wants their seat to be taken,’ Nokqotir thought, hers and theirs early arrival evident by the lack of smell in the air, but that would change. Black Beak was surely already in there, leaking. ‘His uses keep growing, how good he didn’t die.’

  She looked around the hall, but the commander wasn't in there, though her lifepartner was. ‘She isn’t at home then.’

  Instead of walking inside, she took another path, this one leading down into the (shadow chamber), where she could see a figure, hidden in the darkness.

  “I had a feeling you would be down here,” she said in a casual tone, approaching calmly.

  In the shadows, the commander's movements, however slight, weren’t too hard to make out as she lifted her head. “Did Uchavi tell you where I had hidden myself?”

  “Sir Oleekas has uttered not a word, Lord Dorktra, I simply had a feeling,” Nokqotir replied.

  The commander rested her head on her hand, “You seem to know me more, with each passing moment, it would seem.”

  “Is that not a desired quality in a second in command?”

  A moment of silence followed, “Tell, do you know why I sit here alone?”

  “I have many guesses, one I most believe is silence.”

  “In one manner, you are wrong, in another, you are right,” Lord Dorktra told her. “I have come here to think, to ponder important matters .”

  “Then excuse my interruption,” she said respectfully, though not leaving. “However, may I ask what matter has your thoughts occupied?”

  “Very well, as my second in command, perhaps you’ll offer some insight. I am in thought, about who I should trust to travel to the capital, to deliver the news of Black Beak, as well as his work with the healing waters,” The commander explained.

  ‘Not… yet,’ Nokqotir thought, suppressing her scales and keeping them her distinctive coloring. “Lord Dorktra, I do see your trouble in this matter. Personally, I would send the disgrace, and if she dies on the road regardless, it’s a victory, but—“

  A deep, frustrated growl interrupted her, “You think I haven’t already thought of that, but the guard commander wouldn't stand for it, and he might enter another blind rage.”

  “You sound fearful of him,” Nokqotir curiously and somewhat humorously poked. “He is certainly an oddity among common men, but still only a man.”

  “If he were only an oddity, I would have taken the man’s position long ago,” She snapped sharply. “He has fought and beaten every woman under him, earning their respect the old way, and that was before his injuries. Now he is unpredictable, I believe, even to himself. If you think you have seen the extent of his volatile nature in your brief confrontation with him, you are mistaken, noblewoman Polali. I can only imagine the chaos he would bring if the disgrace were to die, whether I had any involvement or not.”

  The anger that flowed from her voice was palpable, even if she tried to hide it.

  “Yes, that is a concern, but perhaps you are too hasty with it,” Nokqotir suggested. “Why send anyone so soon? Is it not better to wait?”

  “Wait?” Lord Dorktra questioned. “Black Beak, his testing has all but concluded his findings, and even if it is not, his knowledge and proof of such, in the warming waters, and poison experiments should be more than enough to get my family's attention.”

  “I couldn’t agree more; however, why show so little?”

  “Little? These are things that no one has even been close to thinking of, and as importantly, he has found uses for poison that before were deemed worthless, even as poisons. With sufficient time and the protection of my family, my house will surely rise,” Lord Dorktra said with prideful contentment.

  With a calm stride, Nokqotir entered the darkness up on the elevated platform. “Your House, yes, but what of you?”

  “Surely I will—“

  “Apologies, Lord Dorktra, but you would only be given scraps, maybe a place in history as a note; gratitude for a single action only takes one so far. Why not be patient and reveal this knowledge at the appropriate opportunity?”

  “And what opportunity would that be?”

  “Why… the head of the household dying, of course.”

  Lord Dorktra sat silently for a moment, the shadows hiding her face and scales quite nicely, as this place was designed to do.

  “…And what would that accomplish?”

  “Don’t you tell me you haven't imagined the possibility, Lord Dorktra?” Nokqotir said, stepping up behind her and rubbing her tense shoulders. “Black Beak, only promised you, healing waters, and in such a short time, he has not only found it and produced it from a plant, but made warming waters, and as we recently found out leaks salty waters, much more then a hundered eyes could cry, and that is only what he has shared with us as of now.”

  Her shoulders relaxed, “… admittedly Black Beak has surprised all, me as well, with his knowledge, and nature.”

  Nokqotir smiled hungrily, “Lord Dorktra, do you really want your sisters, cousins, aunts, to sink their fangs into his rich flesh. Do you want them to take credit and be written in history as the generation where wonders were made, or do you want to be the one when you take your rightful place?”

  “…I… it is not tradition—“

  “No, Lord Dorktra, no tradition will be broken. Imagine it, the head of the household has died, her body swallowed in Amito’s embrace, and even if another were chosen, you could come in and show off not only your prizes, but your command over him,” Nokqotir sweetly whispered. “Whatever choice your family may have made, the king could easily overrule with her supreme authority, and you would stand at the top. Your daughter could also indulge in her activities more freely. You must admit she has been quite sated from what I have heard by Black Beak, and with the passing of time and his hope, whatever he still carries of returning home will dwindle, and he still could be a part of your family. Truly imagine it, so many problems taken care of, so much to gain if you stay patient. That is the wisest course, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “…and what do you want?” Lord Dorktra questioned, her voice not trembling, though weakened in authority. “A question about you has been gnawing at the back of my mind since you arrived. Why here?”

  “Why not here, Lord Dorktra?”

  “Do not play games. Arriving from the ‘Flatlands,’ the closest village is ‘Friekoli,’ yet you headed northwest to me and not northeast to ‘Quatzli’ where NokKrask Haayshiis Ablegiki commands. With a Son of House Krosk in your possession, it should have been an obvious choice. Their blood-soaked feud has lasted longer than houses have existed. I have heard many stories of the daughters taking a great deal of pleasure in emasculating the men, bloodlessly, rather crude, but to have one be their slave is the greatest show of dominance. You would have been rewarded most greatly by her side since you had no knowledge regarding my mother’s death, so I ask again, why here?”

  “Why here indeed,” Nokqotir sighed, in a low voice as she thought back to the flames, the fire, the spear in her hand so tantalizingly close as she gripped with ferocious fury. “You are correct, knowing what I knew then, ‘Quatzli’ was the correct choice, but emotions tend to lead one astray, forget what matters, in favor of what eventually doesn’t. It was a favorable path, but luck only tends to take one as far as gratitude, with far less certainty. And as for what I want, you already know the answer: to rise.”

  The commander leaned forward, deep in thought.

  “If I were to agree, it will take some time; my aunt isn’t old or young.”

  “I do not doubt it could be a long wait, yes, but I have all the confidence in the whole kingdom, we can manage.”

  “Word reaches slowly out here, I doubt very much I would know soon enough or have enough to show to convince the king, with mere tools of pleasure and healing, even the healing waters and the other kinds,” Lord Dorktra concerningly replied.

  “I agree, for that we would need weapons…” Nokqotir replied with a predatory look in her eyes as she grew excitedly elated at her own suggestion.

  “Weapons…?”

  “Yessss…” she said, drawing out the ‘s’ in a hiss of excitement. “Black Beak knows so much we do not, think of weapons, it could be enough to end the war.”

  “Black Beak is a healer, his and his knowledge though extensive doesn’t seem to reach further than that, if the reports are to be believed,” Lord Dorktra replied calmly.

  “Yes, these reports, and we still have new tools of sewing, and the creation of warming waters, and best of all time, time for Black Beak to share ideas we haven't thought of. They could lead to weapons we haven’t thought of, and that we can figure out, use, and impress with.”

  “And if Black Beak refuses, he’s still a Guest under my command,” Lord Dorktra reminded her.

  Nokqotir’s smile widened. “Revoke his Guest Right.”

  “Are you afflicted with madness!” Lord Dorktra yelled with booming fury. “You would anger every god, woman, and man against me!”

  “I would never suggest something so, because Black Beak has already surrendered his Guest Right when he threatened you for all to see,” Nokqotir reminded her.

  “If you speak of when I attempted to make him my daughter's lifepartner, then you surely remember when I insulted him; his actions were within the boundaries of the laws.”

  “If you insulted him, that is, all you did was speak the truth, and he reacted with threats. Is it an insult to say someone is fat? If it’s the truth, I think not.”

  “You interpret the laws interestingly,” Lord Dorktra said, standing up. “I will think on it until then, await my word on the matter.”

  “Of course, Lord Dorktra,” Nokqotir said respectfully as she watched her walk away. ‘I can only hope I have whetted her appetite enough.”