* “scrik?” Oh boy! It looks like Kippy your slum hound has caught a scent! Do you want to follow him?

*Prompt...yes.

* “scrikerk! Tss tss tss...” boing boing boing!

Khelen had measured Sacrin's days using the cypher's clock. Using that data, he estimated it was early in the morning, a suspicion confirmed when the sky began to change. He was about to inject more Calm now that he had replaced the vial, however he refrained. He would need to ration his formulas now that he lacked access to a reliable source. In a way, they were almost as valuable as food and water. Though emotion dosing was still considered a new technology, the formula injectors had been around long enough to be integrated into Nomoan culture and were considered a normal part of etiquette. Before the devices had been created, emotions often served to be counterproductive. His people were slaves to their feelings, often to the point that emotion obfuscated reason. Feelings had their purpose, yet often a person would be angry over something meaningless, or happy over something that was, by its nature, tragic or unfortunate.

The formula injector was revolutionary in that it finally allowed people to take control over which emotions they would feel at any given time, using them as tools rather than being slaves to them. If somebody's quirks made you angry, you dosed Calm so you would not lash out at them. If you were bored doing something monotonous, you injected Joy. If you had to do something unpleasant yet necessary, you dosed Flatten or Calm, or sometimes a combination of the both. There was an “art” to dosing. What worked varied from individual to individual.

Recently, Khelen had been using a fair amount of Calm, more than he used to. As somebody who often traveled into desolate locations, he always made sure to pack for such a scenario. But if he remained on Sacrin, the day would come when he would run out unless he found the materials to synthesize more formulas. That was where the sniffer came in handy. And right now, it was detecting a substance used in the making of Flatten. It was not a formula he used often, as he already had a natural ability to quell empathetic emotions. However, it may come in handy.

Kippy the Slumhound's green sprite was bouncing around along the ground. Every now and then it would turn to look at Khelen, bounce in place, the words “scree scree!” appearing above its head, then it would continue to lead him toward the source. It danced unarmed among the snares of the so-called “gripper” trees, whose forms resembled the nautical flora of Scrul's seas. Simian had been rather upset when he found out what Khelen did. He suppose he could not blame the man, but his choice to “feed” Leoman's pieces to the plants had been a perfectly logical one, not an act of spite. It was fortunate that he'd loaded the pieces into the wagon and that creature's carriage had been made of bone and metal. It was also fortunate that they ended up staying in a forest full of caustic trees that dissolved flesh. Even more fortunate that the forest was filled with animal bones, some of which looked very similar to the ones used in the carriage's construction. Khelen had not scattered Leoman's pieces. Instead, he had meticulously “fed” each piece to the same gripper so they would appear to be intact. If Leoman's body had been found and if somehow he had been identified, perhaps somebody would think he went looking for more bones to create more constructs like the carriage, and got himself snared. As for the missing hand...well, perhaps an animal carried it off.

Kippy lead him to a cluster of indigo grippers and leapt unphased through the mass of snares and tendrils. Apparently the source was inside and it was moving slightly, the square-shaped reticle bobbing about with the voracious trees. A trapped animal perhaps? Khelen began to toss various sticks and bones into the mass, baiting the grippers into expending their snares so they would pose no danger to him when he approached.

*“scree scree!” Kippy wants you to see what he found!

When enough of the snares were cleared, Khelen saw the thing Kippy was bouncing on. If it had not been for the sprite dancing in the air or the reticle on the thing's mid-section, even Khelen's eye might not have seen it. The creature was segmented like a warg and its length was twice Khelen's height. Covering the entire length of the creature's body were numerous protrusions which looked nearly identical to gripper snares. It moved almost imperceptibly among the tendrils, slowly pushing them aside without triggering or sticking to them, as it inspected bones with four prehensile whiskers. When it did not “like” what it found, it patiently crept toward the next trapped object. After inspecting several snared items, the creature crawled without haste toward a large fresh wad of snares and curiously inspected. It probed the tangle of tentacle-like branched eagerly. Then it raised a wicked-looking black proboscis the size of Khelen's forearm, dripping with some sort of clear fluid at the end, and gently began to prod the wad, sneaking it between the folds in the snares.

With abruptness the wad twitched, whatever was inside was still alive, awoken by the creature's probing. The gripper reacted by tightening its hold, tendrils clamping more firmly on their squirming prey. The thing retracted its proboscis, the tip of its sharp spike covered with a small amount of blood. Then it circled the cocoon, trying for another angle before making a second attempt. When it found a spot, it tried again and slowly pushed its sharp spike into the tangle, moving so carefully, so subtly it could have very well been part of the scenery. The movement almost seemed gentle, intimate perhaps, as if it did not wish to disturb the tree. Whatever the gripper had ensnared began to struggle for a second time and emitted series of muffled shrieks. The snared animal struggled so frantically it managed to shove the tip of its fur-covered snout between a pair of snares and scream pathetically into the woods. “Aaay! Aay! Aay! Aaay!” it shrieked as the segmented insect wriggled its head to drive its thorn further.

Khelen used the freeform function on his Scavenger-Mate to summon a blade then he took several steps forward and stabbed the camouflaged creature right behind its head segment. The entire body quivered for a moment, then it began to lose its grip on the tree. Khelen stepped back as the entire creature slumped to the ground like a large rope. Then since the sniffer indicated that the formula was in the thing's venom, he severed the creature's head. Kippy danced around ecstatically, bounding off trees so Khelen gave him a “reward” in the form of a digital snack. He gave one look at the gripper's screaming prey, who now had a single black eye visible between the tendrils. A line of black fur at the corner of the creature's eye gave the impression of tears running down its orange snout. Khelen had what he came for so he ignored the creature's squealing and hoisted the severed head over his shoulder, dosing Calm.

“Aaay! Aaay! Aaay! AAAY AAY AAAY AY-mmm! Mmm! Mmm!” Khelen heard the gripper muffle its screams again and found that his legs would let him move from the spot. Frowning, he set the severed head on the ground and returned to the wriggling prey. Then he began to chop away at the snares holding the creature. The task was made difficult by the unbelievable tackiness of the resin. His blade kept getting stuck and covered in the gunk. But if he dismissed it and summoned it again, that cleaned it off. He quickly developed a method of chipping away at the snares, resummoning the blade when it needed cleaning, then resuming. First, hacked away a hole for the creature to poke its snout through so it could breath. Then he ignored its resumed screams and cut it free one snare at a time. The limbs Khelen severed clung to the creature because of the resin. So when he finally cut it free, he had to carry it in a “basket” made of the things.

Perhaps he should have thought it odd that one who did the things that he did would have a soft spot for animals, but that had always been the case. He would always feed the various slum hounds of Edis Holeron or rescue Teldra pups that scuttlers often mistook for garbage. Sometimes, his affinity for small creatures even interfered with an assignment. The thing he had rescued was a quadruped a little bigger than a slum-hound pup and was covered in orange fur. Gripper resin covered the thing, matting its fur, fusing one of its eyes shut and gluing its triangular ears to the top of its head. The stuff stretched strings and webs over the wings sprouting from the critter's back. Sensing it was almost free, the thing tried to kick but the sudden movement made it screech in agony. Cramped muscles, Khelen thought, combined with the red wounds on its flank where it had been stabbed. It was a pitiful sight, even the thing's cheek was glued to the snares so it could not turn its pointed snout. So Khelen carried it in one hand and the severed head in the other and headed back toward camp.

The sun was imminent when he returned. Simian must have been sleep deprived when he had been Leoman's prisoner, for he was still sleeping when Khelen came into the camp. However the creature's pitiful keening woke him up. The man swore several oaths and sat up to see what all the noise was.

“What is that damn noise?!” Simian hollered, but then his eyes widened as he saw what Khelen was carrying. “And why are you covered in resin? You have twigs all over your arms!”

“This...” Khelen lifted the severed head, “was trying to kill this.” he set the basket of tendrils on the ground and let Simian see the bound creature within. Webs of gripper resin stretched away with his hand as he pulled away. Simian muttered to himself as he wiped his eyes and came to take a look.

“Well...I'll be...” he said, “You found a maregyle kitten. It must have gotten itself separated during migration. And you said it was being attacked by...”

“By this.” Khelen indicated the arrowheaded creature.

Simian's eyes widened. “I didn't even think to warn you about those!” he hollered over the maregyle's renewed screeching “Nasty creatures! That's a carrion striker and I'm surprised it didn't stab the hell out of you!”

“Why? It's movements were slow.” Khelen said.

“Then it must have been a stupid carrion striker.” Simian said, “Yeah, they're slow until you get too close, but then they'll put ten holes in you before you know what happened! I suppose this thing didn't even see you coming! Or it was stupid like I said!”

“Do you have 'ren' spirits?” Khelen asked, “To free the 'maregyle'? It was also injected with a venom.”

Simian inspected the creature's wounds, “This poor thing is lucky.” he said, “If it were going to die from striker venom, you'd know by now. Looks like the stinger kept hitting bone before it could get deep enough to inject a lethal dose. Nasty creatures, parasites. Heh...I bet you surprised the hell out of it.” Simian visibly shuddered at the thought of them. “And no...I'm sorry but I did not see any ren spirits. Assuming that thing even lets you, you could try lantern fuel to loosen it up. It's made from pressed kiveh oil so it won't hurt it. But we really do not have time to spend rescuing a maregyle kitten.”

But Khelen was already headed toward the wagon to find the lantern oil. He identified it by the translated words his cypher floated above the label, and by the fact that the small barrel had a picture of a lantern on it. Simian gawked at him as if he had lost his mind, then shook his head. Khelen set the barrel on the ground next to the maregyle then went to grab a canteen of water and a bowl.

“I do not understand you!” Simian called after him, “You...you killed a man yesterday! But now you want save a maregyle kitten? Do not tell me you plan to keep it as a pet?!”

“I did not say I would.” Khelen said as he sat down next to the creature. “I...like animals.”

The pitiful creature's screams had grown dry and hoarse. It was panting hard. Khelen dipped a hand in lantern oil and snuck it behind the maregyle's head, using his fingers as a spatula to pry it free. “You are going to get yourself bit!” Simian warned. As if to fulfill the man's words, a tiny growl tore through the animal's throat and it snapped open air. Then it screamed as if were being tortured awhile its head lifted free. Khelen pulled his hand back just in time.

“Well...while you're doing that, I'm going to get something to eat...since it's obvious I won't be getting back to sleep.” Simian grumbled as he grabbed some jerky and bread. “Fortunately, we won't be short on food for at least a week. I swear that man could eat...bet he spent most of that energy running his damn mouth.”

The maregyle growled when Khelen placed a bowl of water in front of its snapping jaw. It bumped the bowl by accident, sloshing the water over the rim. Then it became desperate, licking the air until its tongue found the bowl. It began to quench its thirst greedily, splashing the contents of the bowl and choking as it water touched its parched throat. He refilled the bowl while his cypher analyzed the creature's movements, predicting when it would try to strike him as well as cross-referencing similar species on Scrul.

“I have been giving some thought to your idea.” Simian said, watching him, “It's stupid. Why can't you keep you...what was it you called it?”

“The wall-rider.” Khelen said, not looking up from his work. The maregyle had been severely dehydrated. Already it had gone through a third bowl. “To repair it requires removing many small parts. They would fall between the boards on the wagon.”

“Well why not leave it behind?” Simian asked, “Do you really need it?”

“If you have ever ridden a wall-rider, you would not need to ask.” Khelen allowed himself a fond grin. “There is nothing that compares. But...in terms of practical answers, it is fast and no incline is an obstacle to it. ”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“That...that thing is some sort of transportation?” Simian sounded skeptical.

“Yes.” Khelen said. He refrained from telling Simian about the modifications he had made to it and the illicit weapons he had camouflaged in its chasis. “My model is designed with...'rugged travel' in mind. It is designed for ease of repair, should it break down in a 'dead zone'. My work often required me to go ...long periods in isolation. So...I kept many spare parts. The problem is getting to the part that needs to be inspected. That will take...a lot of dismantling.”

The maregyle, exhausted and whining but hydrated, struggled vainly to break free from its bind. Khelen poured some lamp oil along its back, giving it time to penetrate the snares. Then, using the data his cypher compiled from cross-referencing, he scruffed its neck. He dosed Joy when the critter went still, then he slid his hand under its flank and repeated what he did to its head, sawing his hand back and forth until its fur released from the snares. It did not like that one bit. Khelen surmised that its squirming had tugged on its fur and the resin had locked it into place, keeping it pulled taut for the whole time it had been in the gripper's grasp.

“ch ch ch ch ch...” Khelen vocalized out of habit, trying foolishly to calm the screaming creature with slumhound clicking.

“Fine.” Simian relented, “We will keep the carriage. You can pretend to be some favored. However...what you did yesterday, that cannot happen again.”

“If we are caught...” Khelen said as he freed the creature from a majority of the snares. “if I am cornered...I will not be able to stop myself.”

“Then I can't bring you with me.” Simian said simply, “I don't know what your world is like or what you even did. Let me tell you something, when I heard Leoman screaming, the way he cried...” Khelen looked up to see the man staring at the grass, swallowing, “it was like hearing my own damn child screaming. You freed me and I thank you for it. But 'that' cannot be the cost of my freedom. If you need me to use some sort of drug to knock you out, fine. I can easily create my own tranquilizer and hit you with it. But I will not bring that kind of savagery back to my family.”

Khelen wished Simian had not told him about the tranquilizers. That knowledge would have been better off hidden, for if he knew about them, then the beast also knew. Already, it wanted to whisper to him the different ways he could counteract or evade being sedated. The man had no idea how much power it had, how seductive its venom is. “It would work.” Khelen said, “I am assuming the delivery would be a projectile of some sort. You would...most likely have to increase its potency. If it is not a projectile...then tell me no more. As for your family, I will not harm them. My...bloodlust...has a 'taste' for dangerous people.” That too, was a lie. It had a preference for dangerous people. But it did not discriminate.

Now that the maregyle was free, Khelen thought it would try to run. But the creature seemed far too tired to do anything but stumble. Then it crouched onto the ground and tucked its head between both of its front legs, as if to hide from the world. The entire thing was covered in lantern oil. Pinpricks of blood dotted patches of bare skin where fur had been torn away, clumps of resin still clung to it despite all the lubrication. Its wings were bunched together with adhesive and the tail adhered to the maregyle's hind leg.

“My granddaughter always talks about wanting one of those.” Simian mused. Granddaughter? Khelen thought, but he remained silent. “Anyway...” he walked over and put a hand on Khelen's shoulder. “Respect for life. If you want me to be some sort of...'guide', or whatever the hell you want to call it, you need to show a respect for life, like what you're doing here.” He let go.

“Aren't...you a hunter?” Khelen asked.

“I don't torture the animals I kill.” Simian said, “If I cause them pain, it's because of my own incompetence.”

Khelen felt strange hearing the man's words. Strange because, like all the other Kel he had met, Simian was empty, an avatar in form only, no history. Why would a man without a cypher go out of his way to talk of respect? In Khelen's experience, respect was a form of currency as were acts nobility. When people spoke of respect, they did so to be echoed. They could take their acts as the cypher recorded them, post them too the feed, and others could relive these events of kindness. They could use these moments as credentials verifying to others that they had integrity. What did Simian have to gain from such talk? There was no feed and nobody would hear it except Khelen himself. But he was grateful for the man's company. He was the only one there to break up the silence.

“What is...the maregyle doing?” Khelen asked.

“It's traumatized.” Simian said, “And it's in a whole lot of pain. Or at least it will be. Maybe the fur will protect it from the brunt of the resin's effects, but it's going to feel something. Speaking of which, you better start slathering that oil on yourself and get as much of that gunk off of you as possible. Maybe that clothing of yours will protect you, but it will get harder to remove the longer you wait. Grab a wulup's tail....” Simian looked toward the wargs, “We need to find a river and start scrubbing all that paint off our wargs. Better to get started sooner than later because it's going to take all day.”

Khelen nodded, then he picked up maregyle and carried it into the bone-tickler's chamber, setting it down on some padding he had taken from the wagon. It crawled over and tucked its snout into the corner. Then he went to the wagon to retrieve a sealable container from the fabricator's storage. Though he did not remember the days preceding his arrival, he deducted using data from the wall-rider that he had been towing a locker filled with his belongings. Whatever happened to him immediately preceding his appearance must have broken the locker and scattered its contents. What had he been doing? Not even the cypher would tell him. Sabotage indeed? Either way, he was very fortunate to have a working fabricator. He picked up the head he had taken from the carrion striker and carried it into the carriage so he could figure out how to extract the venom. The task turned out to be easier than he expected, he simply had to bend the probiscis a little bit and squeeze hard on the creature's gullet. He managed to fill most of the container with the clear liquid before the venom glands refused to yield any more. Once they had a chance, he would hook the fabricator up to the wall-rider's power port and have it run an analysis on the substance. But for now he sealed the container and tucked it into a corner.

While Simian navigated the carriage out of Theola forest, Khelen continued to rake bits of resin from the maregyle's fur. It would let out the occasional yelp, but it was too petrified to protest. Using a blade he summoned with the Scavenger-Mate, he sheered off matted sections and tossed them into the corner. It reminded of of the time he had freed an unfortunate slumhound from a puddle of hardened tar. While he was working on the creature he began to feel a prickling irritation on the side of his scalp. Reaching up, he felt a streak of gripper resin. So he smeared some lantern oil on the stuff and began to rub at it until it rolled into little logs that he could flick off.

By the time Simian found a river, most of the resin had been removed from the maregyle's wings and fur. Khelen's efforts seemed to calm the creature, perhaps it felt relief? Or perhaps it was simply too tired to do anything, it had its head bowed and its one free eye was closing. But he still needed to get the resin off the creature's other eye or else it would go blind. But as soon as he made the attempt to secure the maregyle's head, it became alert and began to pull away snarling. Khelen was strong, but the creature, covered in oil, was slick under his grasp. It slipped out from under his hand and sunk its teeth into the side of his palm, leaving a little parabola of bite marks. Simian knocked on the side of the carriage.

“Come on out.” he said, voice muffled by the walls, “I pulled us alongside a stream with a small waterfall. I'll need help with these wargs.”

Khelen slapped the side of the carriage with Leoman's hand and wrapped it in cloth before Simian could see it. Eventually, he would have to discard it before its odor became too foul. This meant he had to either had to choose where to create a permanent opening for him to enter and exit. But for now he kept it hidden from Simian's sight. The man was waiting on the other side of the wall. When he saw Khelen massaging the bite on his hand, he frowned.

“What did I tell you?” he said, “You were going to go get yourself bitten. You have no idea what kind of diseases that animal is carrying either.”

“The cypher will take care of it.” Khelen said. Indeed, it had already detected an influx of foreign pathogens in his blood and had just started manufacturing artificial antibodies to fight them. “The maregyle still has resin on its eye.”

Simian gave him a look that said, “What do you want me to do about it?” then shaking his head, he entered the bone tickler with Khelen's help. He used his body to hold down the maregyle while Khelen used both his hands to secure the jaw of the creature. His efforts earned him several more bites but he managed to clamp it shut while his other hand peeled away enough of the resin covering the creature's eyelid. When they both let go, it limped back into the corner and hissed at them.

“I thought you said you weren't going to keep it as a pet. I said we could not bring it with us.” But Simian considered the trembling critter dripping in lantern oil. “But...I guess I can't find the heart to get rid of it right now. Leave it some water and meat, we can see if it gets any better. But do it quickly, we really need to get these wargs scrubbed.”

Khelen left several bowls of water and some strips of jerky with the maregyle kitten, then gathered all the resin into a huge wad and tossed it out. Then he closed the carriage and hopped out and was stunned at the sight before him. The stream in of itself was not too extraordinary but the way the water shimmered in the sun's ambiance was magnificent. The waterfall, almost twice a man's height seemed to cascade jewels instead of water, glittering as if it were one of the illuminated fountains of Edis Holeran's corporate district. Auroras flickered along the trees that flanked the shore. Several creatures leapt among the tree tops, flying and bounding from branch to branch. Every instinct told him that this was wrong, they should have been hiding from the radiation.

“When you are done gawking, I need help! Come on, we don't have all day!” Simian snapped impatiently.

Following the man's instructions, he helped him to detach each warg one at a time and lead it into a shallow part of the river. The insect-like beast could have easily tossed them aside if it wished but they seemed to be rather docile, bobbing its head slightly as they pulled on its reins. Khelen had heard of ridden mounts near some of the dead zones, had seen some of them but he had never tried it himself. Animals were too unwieldy.

“Oh that is cold! Oh but it feels so good, yes it feels so good. That should help some of the swelling.” Simian kept muttering as he waded into the water, leading one side of the warg. “ Come on you...okay...okay right there should be fine. Why don't you have a drink while we give you a bath. Okay...” he dropped the rein into the water and sighed, “I have some good news and some bad news. The good news is that Lord Skremon's colors are green and red. I also think somebody told me that she has a Favored. If you want to impersonate one, Skremon would be our best bet. That means we only have to scrub one of these wargs. The bad news is that this paint is not designed to come off easily. We will have to find a rock or something and start scraping away at it until it is all gone. Do not worry about hurting the warg, just scrape as hard as you can.”

The task was just as grueling as Simian described. Khelen's arms burned from the effort of grinding away at the beast's chitinous plate. He also had to avoid being pinched or having his foot stepped on whenever the warg decided to move. Using his Scavenger-Mate's freeform function, he shaped a cyatic blade into a form that could scrape when he pulled. Simian cringed at the noise it made as Khelen scraped away small strips of paint. The abundance of Sacrin's cyatics amazed him as well as the ease at which they yielded. It was as if they were simply waiting for somebody to use them. If only the wall-rider were functioning....

Simian had to take far more frequent breaks than Khelen as the scrubbing aggravated his injuries. Khelen did not mind. In fact the exercise was what he needed. His days spent in the cell back at Inshod left him feeling a little weak. By the time they both finally got most of the paint scraped away, the sun had begun to set. Both were exhausted from the work and Khelen knew he was going to feel sore when he awoke. After checking in on the maregyle to make sure it was still alive, he went through his supplies and grabbed two Slam bars from his leftover rations and snacks. He tossed one to Simian, who was leaning against the wagon and watching the wargs drink.

“What is this?” the man asked, inspecting the tin-wrapped bar.

“Slam bar.” Khelen said, grinning while opening his up, “It 'slams you with health'.

“That thing...was an animal where you're from?” Simian was looking at the figure on the front of the package.

“No...no.” Khelen laughed, “The bar is protein, fruit, and nuts.”

“Then why...does it have four muscled legs and eyes?” Simian indicated the cartoonish limbs on the personified bar, which was made to resemble an beast bursting out of its wrapper.

At this Khelen laughed, “The figure...it is a humorous depiction I guess? I...never thought about it. It is...an 'avatar' of the company...or 'group' that makes it. It is getting ready to 'slam' you with health! The taste is...bad. But it helps with aching muscles and builds new ones. I carry them as rations if I travel far. I lived on them for twenty days with nothing else but water.”

Simian did as Khelen did and tore the wrapper off. He gave it a suspicious sniff and took a bite. “You are right.” he grimaced, “This is horrible. You said it has fruits and nuts in it? I only taste dirt. But...I do not waste food especially when it is given. By the way, you are looking a little burnt.”

“Burnt?” Khelen repeated.

“With skin as pale as yours, not surprised the sun burned you.” Simian said as he forced himself to swallow pieces of Slam bar, “It got you really bad on your neck.”

Now that Simian had brought his attention to it, Khelen did notice a sensation that resembled a large rash. “Your 'sun' can cause damage then?” he asked.

“Well...yeah!” Simian said as if the answer were obvious, “Some dyes will bleach in it, people will get burned by it if they stay out in it too long without some sort of protection. Get a hat or a hood, or spread some siuf butter on your skin. You look like you will burn real easy. Either way, that was a good job done.” he nodded to the warg they had scrubbed, “Sorry I could not help as much. I think it will take several trel for me to fully recover from riding in that damn carriage.”

“How far is your home?” Khelen asked, “Will we need food or supplies for the journey?”

“It's only a little under a trel's ride away.” Simian said, “If we play it safe. If I drive isolated roads by day and you drive at night, assuming you can learn to read a map and learn to steer the wargs. The latter should not be difficult, a child can do it. But we do that, we can almost shorten that by half. Leoman also said something about adjusting the suspension on the bone tickler. Or more like he bragged about how he could adjust it if he wanted. If you are wanting to sleep in there, you better figure out if he was telling the truth.”

Khelen peaked under the carriage and almost immediately saw how Leoman's design worked. It was so crude he nearly laughed. Coiled springs like the kind he had seen on old vehicles in museums acted as shocks on each axle, yet they were thwarted by four metal shafts that ran through their centers. The result was that the shafts supported the carriage before the springs even had a chance to absorb any energy. Even if the purpose of such a feature were aimed toward tormenting the occupants of the carriage, it was a stupid design that put unnecessary wear on the axles. It was quite amazing they had not broken under the constant battering. On each shaft there was a geared crank for adjustment. As he turned each one, the carriage above seemed to sigh with relief as it settled on its shocks.

“We head out tomorrow.” Simian said, “before the roads get too crowded. Leoman was not the only messenger going around delivering orders for Kel to attend the Retribution Feast. Entu Province was one of the last regions to get the news. Representatives from all over the continent are being invited and everybody else will already be there by the time Entu arrives to watch the slaughter.”