Links - Chapter 29 - Scions

Dodging a particularly large pothole in the road, Jace's hound thundered towards the Order Chapter Keep at Red Lake. The air was thick with tendrils of mist and moisture that danced and whirled around one another like shreds of cloud. The sky was clear, the blackness of night slowly eaten away by a growing crimson glow in the east.

The hound Jace now rode was his fourth mount since departing from Lillyvale. The other three hounds had been left at various Order forts and outposts along the way, having been run at full speed until they nearly collapsed from exhaustion. Even for Jace, who had grown used to extended hound rides during his days in the Halcyon Militia, the ride had been a long and challenging one. Most of the roads were still under construction, or in constant danger of being consumed by the swamps.

The sleepy town of Cloyne sat at the base of the long winding road that led up to the Chapter Keep of the Lord's Holy Order. The gravel road gave way to cobblestone as Jace entered the town, keeping his hound at full speed.

As he tore through the town, Jace's passing startled several peace officers patrolling the streets. As they turned their lanterns upon him, the sigil of the Illuminant Chain emblazoned upon the back of Jace's coat flashed back at the officers. Another would have been stopped, even arrested, for such reckless riding through the streets, but a mere glimpse of Jace's sigil silenced any such notions.

The hound's claws scrabbled on the cobblestones as it skidded to a stop before a solid wooden gate made from thick tree trunks that barred the path up to the fortress. A long wall of sharpened trunks, each easily four times Jace's height, surrounded the base of the hill, on top of which sat the Red Lake Chapter Keep, the few lights on within glimmering like the failing stars in the sky. Two men with rifles stood before the gate, while another handful patrolled on the wall.

The larger of the two gate guards stepped forward. "State your name and business, sir."

Steam rose from the panting hound's back as Jace straightened in his saddle. "Alyard Jace, Agent of the Lord's Holy Order and bound to the Illuminant Chain. My business is my own, now get out of my way."

The guard quickly nodded and called out. "Open the gate!"

The Runic lock was deactivated and a trio of slaves pushed open the heavy wood and steel gate just enough for Jace to pass.

With a click of his tongue, Jace dug his spurs into the flanks of his hound. The beast leaped forward with a low growl and began up the long, winding path toward the Chapter Keep.

Trees flashed by, along with the odd defensive barricade. A few soldiers patrolled the road, all pausing to bow as Jace rode past without so much as a glance.

As he rode, Jace caught sight of a number of faded and tattered banners hanging alongside the road. He recognized them as pennants celebrating the Seventh Southern Crusade.

It was with bitter humour that Jace thought back to the celebrations that had accompanied the announcement of the crusade. More ambitious than any before, the Seventh Southern Crusade had intended to make Halcyon whole through a vast network of roads, railways, tunnels, canals, bridges, forts, trading posts, and docks. The crusade had been meant to solidify Halcyon's position as the most powerful nation on the plane, greater even than the much older nations in the north, and bind the furthest most reaches of its territory together.

Though he had been just a boy, Jace still recalled the enormous parties, parades and dances organised to celebrate the great undertaking. Even the slaves had been given time away from their labours and invited to participate, in some small way, in some of the more minor ceremonies, all to give the illusion that all of Halcyon, master, and slaves alike, were excited to see their great destiny fulfilled at last.

The Order of the Crimson gift had created a vast and carefully coordinated breeding programme. The Order worked tirelessly, and thanks to their efforts, the number of pelt slaves in Halcyon nearly doubled in but a few years. Scores of expeditions, each bringing back tens of thousands of fresh slaves, had been launched to Plane Secundus. All told, the Order gathered together almost four million slaves, all of whom were set to the task of building infrastructure.

But the gargantuan task had proved to be far too ambitious, and well outside the capabilities of the men and women set to the task of organising the crusade. The breeding programs had led to shortages of food and supplies, while the newly arrived slaves from Plane Secondus, having not been born in Halcyon, suffered immensely from the heat and diseases. Those that didn't succumb to the harsh conditions would resist their masters, and spread the malignant influence of their culture to the Halcyon born slaves. Mass culls became necessary just to maintain order, further slowing the Crusade's progress and dealing crushing blows to the already low morale of masters and slaves both.

While the official records suggested that the slave population had been merely decimated by the crusade, Jace knew, both from secret reports and first-hand accounts from his comrades, that the true number of casualties was closer to two-thirds. What had been intended to be a ten-year effort was now entering its fifty-first year, with just over half of the projects it had set out to complete not even started.

As he rode, Jace could not help but wonder which would be allowed to die first: him, or the crusade.

The walls of the keep loomed above Jace as the main gate came into view. The smaller wicket gate at the base of the great steel monolith had already been opened in anticipation of Jace's arrival. Racing through the gap, Jace found himself in the central courtyard of the Red Lake Chapter Keep.

The moment Jace's hound slowed, a pair of slaves stepped forward to greet him. The first, a young male feline with the emblem of the Crimson Gift branded upon his chest, took hold of the hound's reins and bowed his head.

"Welcome to Red Lake Chapter House Master." The young lad's voice was dull, almost like he was in a trance.

Jace swung his legs over his saddle and dropped to the ground. "Take my hound to the stables, see to it she is watered and well fed."

"As you command."

"She's run a long way and done her job well. Get her some real meat from the kitchens."

"Yes Master."

As the slaves led the panting hound away, Jace took a moment to stretch his back, and take in the impressive cathedral looming over him in the centre of the keep.

A colossal edifice of rock and concrete, the Red Lake Chapter Keep had been built to serve as a demonstration of the Order's power to the people of the south. Twisting spires, studded with stained glass windows, rose high above the four-metre-thick stone walls. The central keep was built in the shape of a seven-point star, the walls built from solid granite. The cathedral itself bore on its south-facing wall a massive relief of the Lord. Her sword, fashioned from solid brass, was drawn and held aloft above the courtyard, a promise of protection to her faithful servants, and a potent threat to those who stood against them.

Despite the early morning hour, the keep's slaves were already hard at work. Unlike the wretches Jace had witnessed in Flinton Valley, the slaves that worked within the keep were properly fed and carefully groomed, as befit their meagre station. Some of them tended the vast rose gardens that ringed the perimeter of the courtyard, while others worked to polish the stone walkways and pillars. Their movements were somewhat slow, even clumsy, a side effect of the powerful control collars that they wore. The more powerful collars guaranteed a higher level of compliance but also had the effect of blunting their wearer's mind.

"Alyard! My old friend!"

Jace turned, his lips cracking into a smile at the sight of the man striding across the courtyard toward him.

"Nicholas, so this is where they stuck you."

Nicholas Welch was a tall man, though his pronounced slouch made him appear far shorter than he really was. His long, flowing black hair, tinged with grey, was tied into a ponytail at the back of his neck. Rough stubble dotted his jaw, save for a scar that ran across the right side of his face and down his throat. His red vest was only halfway buttoned up, the brass clasps clattering against each other as he walked.

Behind Nicholas, staying a respectful few steps behind, was a young pelt, a vixen, with striking indigo eyes, and fur that was as red as the setting sun. She stared at Jace with open curiosity for a few moments, before lowering her head and averting her eyes.

With a hearty chuckle, Nicholas opened his arms and pulled Jace into a hug.

"It is good to see you again. What's it been, six, seven years?"

"Seven at least." Jace returned Nicholas's hug before stepping back. "Far too long, my friend."

"With distance does fondness grow. You'll soon be sick of me again." Nicholas clapped Jace on the back. "Now, come inside. We'll have a drink, catch up a little."

Jace shook his head. "Apologies, but I have business to attend to. I-"

Ignoring his friend's words, Nicholas grabbed hold of Jace's arm. "Come on, I told Olia to get some coffee brewing, and I'm fairly certain I smelled fresh biscuits."

"W-well I... I suppose I could visit, for a short time."

"Brilliant!" Nicholas grinned. "Come, follow me."

***

While most of the Red Lake Chapter Keep was as austere and imposing inside as it was outside, Nicholas Welch's quarters were surprisingly casual.

Large armchairs and soft sofas sat upon a rich red carpet in the lounge. The walls were covered in shelves, upon which sat hundreds of small trinkets, odds and ends collected over Nicholas's long military career. A glass case filled with a variety of ostentatious medals sat gathering dust in the corner of the room. Multicoloured tapestries and lengths of cloth hung from the walls and ceiling, while the space near the windows was full of large, exotic plants in colourful painted pots.

Jace sighed in relief as he dropped into one of the large armchairs that were placed in front of the fireplace. Every bone in his body ached from the long ride, and powerful fatigue pulled at his every fibre.

As Jace settled into his seat, an ancient female canine shuffled towards him, bearing a steaming mug.

"Coffee, Mr. Alyard."

Jace looked up at the old canine and shook his head. "Olia! By the Lord herself... when Nicholas said your name, I thought for certain he was simply losing his mind. How in all ten layers of damnation are you still alive?"

The old canine scoffed as she handed the steaming mug to Jace, her old hand shaking a little. "You're one to talk, you've gotten a lot greyer since the last time I saw you."

Jace took the mug and smelled the coffee within. Looking up at the old canine, he smiled. "It's good to see you Olia."

With a short grunt, Olia turned and began shuffling back towards the kitchen.

Jace couldn't help but chuckle as Nicholas dropped into the chair beside him. "I can't believe she is still around... she was old when we were young! The unit commander thought you were mad when you said you wanted to buy her." He shook his head as he glanced over his shoulder at the kitchen. "What kind of witchcraft could be keeping that ancient creature alive."

"Not witchcraft my friend, merely a steadfast and determined will to outlive me. That, and I think her work with my 'projects' sustains her."

"Speaking of..." Jace looked to the vixen, who was standing a short distance behind Nicholas's chair, hands folded politely in front of her. "I see you have a new one."

Immediately the vixen shrank back a little, shifting as if to take cover behind Nicholas, her tail curling between her legs.

"Hmmm? Oh yes! I bought her about... oh... about a year back now I think."

"What about Tabit?"

"Sold him to a lovely family outside of Bordenwood. Old money sort, needed a hand round the house keeping up with things." Nicholas leaned forward and pressed a rune on the wall beside the fireplace. In an instant, a burst of flame engulfed the wood.

"I actually paid him a visit last year." Nicholas continued, reaching into his vest and pulling out a pipe. "They're pleased with him, and he seemed quite happy. Apparently, they've even had him out to stud a few times. Shoulda seen the pleased look on his face when he told me about that, the lucky bastard."

"And this new one?"

"Executioner buddy of mine in Harlowe sent me a message about this real pretty vulpine that was caught pickpocketing and was due to be drowned. I needed something to do, he needed the cash, so I bought her."

"She is certainly... a fine specimen."

Nicholas looked over his shoulder at the vixen and smiled fondly. "She's still rough around the edges, but she's got a good heart, good head, and she's learning."

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"Thank you master." The vixen said softly, bowing her head.

"Good girl. Why don't you come over here and introduce yourself to my friend."

With some hesitation, the vixen stepped forward and approached Jace's chair. "It is a great honour to meet you sir," she said, dropping to her knees, placing her hands upon her chest and bowing her head. "If it please you sir, my name is Taelow, and I am at your service."

Jace nodded. "Indeed. My name is Alyard Jace, Agent of the Illuminant Chain. You may refer to me as Master Jace."

"As you command, Master Jace." Taelow got back to her feet, keeping her head bowed.

As Taelow turned to leave, Nicholas leaned forward in his seat and poked at her with the end of his pipe. "Ah ah, what did you forget?"

Immediately Taelow stopped and turned back to Jace. "Please forgive me sir, I-I mean Master Jace. Is there anything I may do to serve you?"

"Not right now, no." Jace smiled and nodded. "You are dismissed, young one."

"There you go, very good Taelow." Nicholas smiled proudly as he gently scratched her between the ears. "Just gotta remember to ask permission before you leave."

"Yes master, sorry master."

"S'all good, you'll get it next time."

Leaning back and puffing away on his pipe, Nicholas gestured towards the kitchen. "Why don't you go help Olia. Good girl."

Jace shook his head as he watched Taelow retreat to the kitchen. "Well she certainly needs some work, but there is potential there."

"She's really very sweet. A bit nervous, but then that's vulpines for you. And her colour, by the Lord! Can you believe they were just going to drown her? Shameful, utterly shameful."

"It's the law."

"Mhmm."

Jace leaned forward in his chair. "You act more like she is your daughter, than your slave."

Nicholas' cheek twitched ever so slightly. "So long as I don't interfere with folks in their ways, I see no reason for them to interfere with mine."

"That's not a denial."

"Wasn't meant to be. I'm fond of her, what of it?"

"Truth be told, I don't know how you get away with this sorta thing. If a cardinal saw you treating her like that, they'd have a fit."

"Well you did always say I had a silver tongue. Guess the Cardinals just got tired of me running canonical rings around them." Nicholas shrugged, offering a pouch of tobacco to Jace. "Besides, I always make sure the Order gets their cut when I sell them, so they ain't got no right to complain.."

Jace leaned back in his chair, taking a sip of his coffee. "I understand why you do it, but it is still dangerous. What if someone puts in an avowal against you."

"Yes, what a tragedy that would be." Nicholas turned and gestured to a stack of parchment rolls on his desk.

"Lord's bones, are those all-"

"Freshest one is from three days ago," Nicholas chuckled, fiddling with his pipe. "Taelow forgot her collar when she went to get water."

Jace's eyes widened. "You let her walk around without a collar!"

"Not outside the fortress, give me some credit. Anyways, some wet-behind-the-ears clerk from the Silver Scales saw her and got his spurs stuck up his behind. He chased her down and hit her with a switch. I didn't like that, so we had a little chat, and I broke the switch over his head. Nearly knocked one of his eyes loose apparently."

"Nick, that's insane!"

Nicholas waved his hand. "It's fine."

"What if someone claims you are a pelt sympathiser, or some kind of abolitionist?"

"How can I be an abolitionist when I produce the best-behaved and loyal slaves in the south. 'Sides, if she steps outta line, and she does from time to time, I punish her. Suppose I just don't see any reason to scare her, or to mark up that beautiful coat of hers with scars."

Jace stared at his friend for a few moments, before slowly breaking into a hearty chuckle. "You haven't changed at all."

"And I am much pleased to hear it."

"Still, I'd hate to see you become the subject of some kind of inquiry."

Nicholas started to answer, but paused as Olia and Taelow emerged from the kitchen. Olia carried a steaming basket covered with a towel, while Taelow carried a pot of coffee in one hand and a bowl of wild berries in the other.

"Ah, splendid." Nicholas clapped his hands as Olia placed the basket on the table between himself and Jace. "Cream?"

"You don't need cream," Olia chided. "They're buttered, that's enough. Eat like a king and you'll get fat like one."

"Fair enough."

Olia nodded and gestured for Taelow to follow her. "Come, I have some chores for you to do."

"I'm fond of her too, but you really do let Olia get away with too much." Jace chuckled as Olia and Taelow returned to the kitchen. "And letting a vulpine wander without a collar... you truly are mad.".

Nicholas didn't respond immediately, instead staring into the fire as he puffed away on his pipe.

After a time, he set his pipe down and turned to look at Jace. "So, it's obvious you didn't ride straight from Flinton valley to check up on me and my hobby."

Nicholas raised an eyebrow as Jace remained silent.

"In fact, I rather suspect that your visit has something to do with that pup they saddled you with? What was his name? Dannid? Dabble?"

"Dallet."

"Ah yes."

Jace folded his fingers in front of his face. "Dallet is indeed part of the problem. I assume you heard about the rebel cell we put down?"

"Mhmm."

"Ever since we dealt with that issue, he's been on a tear. He's whipped the people into a frenzy, and he is more than happy to give them the blood they want."

"Sounds like a charmer."

Jace's eyes narrowed. "I understand the need to instil fear, especially when there has, indeed, been rebel activity. But he's squeezing too hard. He wants more violence, and I suspect he feels that said violence might be his path to a promotion.."

"And you can't stop him?"

"I've reached out to a few friends, seeing if I could get him recalled, or at least moved somewhere where he can't do as much harm. I have received the same answer each time."

"And I imagine they all read as some variation of: 'no can do'."

Jace's face darkened. "I don't understand. The boy isn't from a noble house, he doesn't have money, so why are our colleagues so afraid to touch him?"

Nicholas scratched his chin with the stem of his pipe. "I don't know the lad from a hole in the dirt m'self, but... I have heard a few disturbing rumours."

As a heavy pall fell over the room, Jace leaned forwards, staring at his old friend. "It was no accident that you were there in the courtyard when I arrived, was it?"

Nicholas shook his head slowly. "No, no it was not. I know you've sent a number of letters, expressing your concerns about your partner... and I wanted to warn you"

"Warn me?"

With a heavy sigh, Nicholas pushed himself out of his seat and stepped over to the roaring fire.

Staring into the flames, Nicholas spoke, his voice low. "There are those that think that the Order has grown soft and complacent. Slave uprisings have nearly doubled in the last ten years, war with the Federation is all but a certainty at this point, and there are whispers that the drought in the south is worse than the federals are saying. With all this in mind, the people are demanding strong leadership."

Jace raised an eyebrow. "And the Order isn't providing?"

"Apparently not."

"That's utter hound shit."

"Agreed, but Archbishop Dellward is concerned, and she's begun looking for new talent."

"Hardliners."

Nicholas nodded. "Nothing appeals to frightened people more than zealotry. The Archbishop believes they are the future of the Order, that they will sweep away old elements like you or I. They call them 'The Red Scions', and a great deal of effort has been put into placing them in positions of power."

"And you believe that Dallet is one of these... 'scions'?"

"I may have heard his name bandied about, especially after the news regarding that rebel cell you put down. He's just the kind of fella they are looking for: young, radical, and with a talent for bloodshed if I'm not mistaken."

"He does indeed have a... penchant for spilling blood." Jace stroked his beard. "What about Bishop Lewis?

Nicholas stared down at a biscuit, turning it around and around in his hand. "You think that Lewis has the stones to go against Dellward? Nah, he's in this effort up to the hilt. You've heard he intends to make the journey to Flinton to offer his thanks and congratulations."

Jace's eyes narrowed, just a little. "Yes, I have."

"Well, word has it, he plans to issue a promotion to you little 'scion', a big one."

"Cleric?"

"Word has it, he means to make him a paladin."

"That would be a horrible mistake." Jace shook his head. "Dallet is... dangerous."

"That's just the problem." Nicholas's eyes narrowed. "Dangerous may be just what the bishop is looking for."

***

"All I'm sayin is, the Windhill brat ain't been following canon for some time." Comb leaned forward, smoke curling about his face as his eyes darted across the faces of the dozen overseers sitting on the other side of the breakfast fire.

"We been here, running this place, while he's off doing Lord knows what with that little pet of his."

"We're doing our jobs," Sally replied, popping the last piece of toast into her mouth before passing her plate over to her cat, sitting patiently beside her. "Windhill wants to go galavanting off for a few seasons, that's his own business."

"'Sides, t'ain't much going on these days no how. Season's been a complete wash this year," Another overseer commented between puffs on her cigarette.

"Ain't no guarantee he'll be back before harvest season though," Another spoke up between spoonfuls of baked beans. "Truth being told, it is a mite troubling that he's so interested in that pelt of his."

An older overseer scoffed as he tossed his plate down with a loud clatter. "Maybe the 'princess' should have a little accident when she gets back? One bite from a swamp lance, and suddenly we ain't gotta tiptoe around her no more."

"You best be watching your mouth," Another overseer snapped, glaring at Cald. "You get caught doing something like that and Windhill would have you strung up over a fire not ten seconds 'fore he would send the lot of us packing."

Cald opened his mouth to snap back, but a threatening growl from Sally's hunting cat made him think twice.

"Can we go one mornin' without you lot clucking away like a bunch of hens about the boss?" Sally asked, stroking the head of her cat. "We got a job to do."

"An' so does Windhill." Comb got to his feet, gesturing around the fire. "It's bad enough we have to sleep in these bloody cabins like rats while he and that pelt of his sleep in big ol' beds."

"Don't like it yer free to look fer another job."

"But why should I? Why should any of us? We been loyal, to Windhill and the canon, all while he treats his pet like she's a wife. He ignores the law, he ignores his duty, and he ignores what need t'be done t' keep the pelts in line."

The youngest of the overseers, Lee, nodded in agreement. "Y'know what? Comb's right."

"All while Snyder is off getting his cock sucked by that slave of his he thinks none of us know about." Comb looked at the assembled faces again. "So I'm thinkin... maybe we could run this place better."

"What in damnation are you talking about?" Sally demanded, resting her hand on the handle of her revolver.

"I'm suggesting that we send Windhill packing, get rid of that little pet of his, and take this place for ourselves."

"And that is enough of that."

The various overseers sitting around the fire all looked up in surprise as Snyder stepped out from behind one of the nearby cabins.

Comb's eyes narrowed as he got to his feet. "Well, look who found time to join the conversation."

"I'm not here to join your conversation, I'm here to end it." Snyder glanced at the other overseers. "All of you, get to work, now."

Sally and a few others got to their feet and immediately left, but Comb, Cald, Lee, and a few others stood fast.

"That wasn't a suggestion." Snyder's eyes narrowed as he crossed his arms. "To work, all of you, now."

Cald turned and spat into the fire. "Well we ain't done talking yet."

"Cald's right," Lee agreed with a nod. "This is important."

"Boy, the one reason you ain't over my knee right now is cause I'm not in the habit of humiliating little boys in front of men. So, I'm tellin' you, one last time, get to work."

"Nah, we all know what you like when it comes to boys, now don't we." Comb's face twisted into a sneer. "What would poor Mary and little Annie think if they knew what their father got up to with the pelt's round here."

"And that, Thomas, was you crossing the line." Snyder placed his hand on his gun.

"Y'know we're telling the truth here, don'tcha?" Comb stepped forward, gesturing at the overseers standing behind him. "Windhill ain't the boss his father was. An' the longer we stay here with our thumbs up our asses, or our cocks out, the worse things will get."

Synder nodded once. "It is true, Master Windhill is not his father. If Master Edouard were still alive, he would have had you shot for talking like you were, but I suspect Master Luke will be more than satisfied with this instead," Snyder raised his chin, "Thomas Comb, you're fired."

For a moment Comb was silent, before with a chuckle he shook his head. "Yer outta yer mind. You ain't got the authority or stones to fire me."

"Authority? Just who do you suspect Master Luke left in charge while he was gone?" Snyder's eyes narrowed. "You're fired Thomas, so grab your kit and get out, before I have you dragged out."

"Oh yeah?" Comb rested his hand on his gun. "And what if I say I ain't fired?"

A series of loud clicks rang out and four other overseers, including Sally, stepped out from behind the same cabin as Snyder, guns in hand. Immediately Cald, Lee and the others, all except Comb, raised their hands.

Comb shook his head slowly, hate burning in his eyes as he glared at Snyder. "You can't do this,"

Snyder's expression didn't change as he met Comb's gaze evenly. "You have twenty-five years of experience, you'll not have a problem landing on yer feet and finding another job. If you leave peacefully, I'll even see to it that you're paid what you are owed for the rest of the season."

"Now hold on just a second here," Cald interrupted, stepping up beside Comb. "Tom's just speaking the truth here, yeh can't-"

"Cald, is it?" Snyder nodded. "You're fired as well. Grab your things and get out of here, or I'll have you shot as a trespasser."

Cald started to speak, but in a flash, Snyder drew his weapon and fired into the ground between Cald's feet.

"Anybody else?" Snyder glanced around. "Lee? Emmit? Sinclair? Anyone else want to find a new job today?"

Slowly the others backed off, raising their hands.

"Good. Now go get to work. And if I hear so much as a whisper about this, I ain't likely to be so generous next time."

"You know that I'm speaking the truth." Comb's hands curled into fists. "The Windhill brat's been ignoring the canon every chance he gets since his pop ended up in the ground!"

Snyder raised an eyebrow. "You want to talk about canon? 'And it shall be known, by beast and bird, by water and stone, by human and non, that there shall be no sin held in greater contempt than treachery. In its wake, mountains shall be sundered, rivers divided, houses brought low, crowns broken and bent, and all the blood of the world spilt. And so, if treachery is visited upon you, thou shalt respond with death, death alone, death such that the sky itself shall weep in ecstatic horror'; chapter one verse two."

"You're trying to betray master Windhill. Now, you can pack your shit and leave, or we can go the canonical route." Snyder's eyes narrowed as his grip on his gun tightened. "So, what's it to be?"

***

By the time both Comb and Cald's hounds were saddled and making their way off the Windhill property, Fray and Keeli were working to trim one of the large azalea bushes that grew alongside the main drive. Behind Comb and Cald were three other overseers with rifles drawn, led by Sally and her cat.

"What's going on?" Keeli asked, glancing over at Vali, who was standing nearby, as the hounds trotted past.

"Comb got himself fired," Vali whispered back, gesturing at two other slaves to keep working instead of gawking.

"Fired?" Fray raised an eyebrow as she heaved a basket of cuttings onto her back. "I didn't think Comb could do anything to get fired?"

Vali was unable to stop a small smile from crossing her face as she glanced over at the hounds. "Apparently he was talking about trying to take over the ranch."

Keeli's ears perked up. "Take over?"

"Yeah, something about Master Windhill not following the canon. Apparently, Snyder sent him packing."

"I won't miss him," Keeli whispered. "He was always so cruel..."

"You'll never have to worry about him touching you again." Fray smiled.

As Keeli turned to glance at the hounds, she saw that Comb and Cald had stopped at the front gate.

***

"You know Snyder can't do this." Comb snarled, glaring at Sally as she and two other overseers positioned themselves to block any attempt to return through the front gate.

"Funny, cause it seems to me he just did," Sally replied, a sneering grin crossing her face. "You were warned Tom, Snyder warned yah, I warned yah, but you just couldn't keep yer yap shut."

In a rage, Comb's hand flashed down to his gun, but with a flick of her finger, Sally activated her rifle's spark rune and aimed at Comb. Her hunting cat also let out a yowling hiss and made ready to pounce.

"Now now, no need fer long goodbyes." Sally's voice was soft, yet the threat within it was crystal clear. "So do us all a favour, and get out of here before something truly unpleasant happens."

The next few seconds felt like years as Comb considered his options. Finally, with a furious growl, he shoved his pistol back in its holster.

"Good boy. Now, scram."

"Stuck up bitch." Cald spat at Sally. Turning his hound he nodded at Comb. "Come on, let's go."

Casting one more hateful glance at Sally, Comb turned his hound. As he did, he caught sight of Keeli, staring at him.

For a moment, the lapine looked as if she would retreat in fear as their eyes met. But, as Keeli stared at Comb, she haltingly raised a hand and waggled her fingers at him.

'Bye-bye.' She mouthed, a grin working its way across her face.

The sight of Keeli taunting him filled Comb with a rage that just about pushed him into going for his gun again. The only thing that stopped him was Cald calling out to him.

"Oi, let's go get a drink huh?"

With a final snarl at Sally, Comb turned his hound towards the road and nodded. "Yeah, let's do that."

***

"Keeli? Is everything alright?"

Keeli jumped a little as Fray put a hand on her shoulder. "Huh? Oh... yes."

Lowering her arm, Keeli looked back at Fray, and for the first time in a long time, a genuine smile crossed her face. "Everything is just fine."

***

END OF CHAPTER 29