Everything had a haze to it, as if it were a bad dream Merryn couldn't quite shake off the same hard wooden wall on her back and the same cold street. It is. It isn't. Her neck burned with pain even when she slowly turned her head to search around.

Parcival and Beeka rested against the wall near her on the left, Han and Opial under a tall tree at the edge of the street. Han lay on his belly, snoring away and Opial also slept, her head arched back against the trunk.

A heaviness overtook her head, and she rested it in her hands. A vague memory surfaced. An image of blood, innocents dying, stone, fire and the flash of steel, the pendant shattering—this memory too turned dark, then faded away. She groaned. Should have died, it made no sense, even being a blue spirit adept wouldn't protect against such a flood of pure celestial energy.

She knocked on the mental door, but Unnamed didn't answer.

Really, shouldn't stay here on the street like this. Not a sound of people nor birds in the trees. Her ears rotated toward a whisper of a fizzle was behind about ten to fifteen feet. She sniffed the air. Mostly dust, sweat and the sharp, coppry tang of blood.

Whatever was taking the Calcine's energy; while a boon was also going to be wearisome.

She shifted and pushed up into a straighter sitting position, even her arms shook. There'd be no escape if another enemy came along. Sitting here thinking all day wasn't going to do bupkis.

She shook her head as a rush pricked her scalp. Another thought came and went, then fluttered out of grasp. She weakly smashed her fist on the street; even her fingers shouted in protest. An important thing, so important. Gone, it floated away.

How strange everything was; all of us outside, too exhausted to even move. The temple was there, then everything more so now like a beastly dream... so very real though, if these injuries were an indication.

Every single muscle refused to move and yelled, so she fell forward slow and easy like, and landed with her palms on the street, her hair covered her eyes and the cold seeped into her hands.

A clenching pain gripped her side, and she sucked in a small breath. Going to puke. Han could heal all of us, if the little rat doesn't run off again. Her chest panged again this time not from any injury. Oh fine! He did come back and isn't that bad. She smirked acts more like a young, half-grown boy than an old cat-man. Not that it will hurt anything to keep the eye of suspicion on him. The rune didn't cost much energy.

A pulling from within built up the a need to head back to the sea and beyond called; have to go back home time is running short. How much time left was uncertain, as the elders hadn't even bothered to send word by letter or messenger. Home, oh! Her mind wouldn't stop with all of this today. Help them; stop with the pity. Elaema doesn't reward sloth.

Cries further off in the city—of what way they came it was impossible to tell, Can't help them right now, or my friends without standing first!

Get up. Move.

Acid etched in her stomach, and it flip-flopped. She bent over on her side and dry heaved, plopped over leaning back against the nice, cool wall. Standing up shouldn't be this hard. She quickly threw herself onto her stomach, then waited until the twitching and pain subsided, before crawling over to Parcival. It took about a half hour, give or take a few minutes. These people had no window clocks nor on the hour cryers so had to guess.

His face was smushed into a few pebbles, she adjusted his head a bit and was able to place his hair under his cheek to at least keep the hard stones from his eyes.

Any energy left drained away and she rested her head on the back of her hands for a while.

Must have been close to death to be this tired, it doesn't happen often but can't be mistaken. Hope they aren't feeling the same. An awful thought crossed her mind, were any of them dying? She shuttered.

Up. Up! Stand!

She pushed off the ground and fell back down, some dirt pushed into her mouth with a hint of something musty and metallic in it, she pushed it out. Eww. Maybe Aetae could help. No, only have two more times left after that it wasn't wise to call on him. She clawed at the dirt and pushed up to a seated position, several healing wounds on her legs raged, she shook and gasped. At the peak the pain finally relented and receded. This should have healed by now! She took in tiny breaths. Am alive and awake for sure.

Parcival had a faint woodsy and smoky scent in his clothing, she sniffed, Beeka too. She leaned over him, and turned his face to the side. A large burn. She laid his head back on the pillow of hair. The welcome morning sun brightened his face as its rays came over the rooftops.

Movement. She stiffened. Han rolled against the trunk then flopped over onto his side; snoring. Hea. Nothing to get worked up about.

She patted his shoulder.

He batted her hand away, and muttered.

She tried again, this time saying his name. He blinked, and sat up. He reached back, rubbing his shoulder blades, then his neck. "How long have I been out?"

She started to shrug and winced. "No idea."

He began to rise. He held out a hand, she took it, and he pulled her up with him. She bit the inside of her cheek as her calves rippled and twitched.

They woke the others, and left the dead end, the people had started to come out of hiding, and while—not the same overlapping of voices and bustling energy of days ago, it would be soon.

"Let's head back to the Bugyō, he needs to talk to you."

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Huh? Her ears crackled. "I didn't understand all that. The who?"

"Chichi, Bugyō."

She shook her head. That's right the pendent broke. Don't whine, getting worked up isn't going to help. Damn emotions.

Parcival caught her attention, he bent down and took out a thick black ceramic bracelet that had cracks of gold though it. He slipped it over her left wrist.

"Better?"

She couldn't speak, an embarrassing lump in her though cropped up, she resisted an impulse to bolt up and hug him. Heat rose into her cheeks and she looked down to the ground. "It's pretty. Thank you," she whispered.

He laughed lightly. "let's try again. The magistrate."

She stopped and rubbed her arm. "Is he the leader here?" The lump went away and the buid up of pressure to understand what he said eased.

"For this city, yes. I'll explain any questions along the way. First you need some boots and a new cloak, they're a mess."

Opial dragged her feet, but came next to her. "I know a few good places, I can take you."

She inspected her hands. Opial was far too kind, humans must have changed from the times grandmother had talked about. "I'd appreciate it." Maybe a stop at a potion shop, if they had any here. She opened her pouch and rummaged inside it; a few coins clanked. No potions then after all. Ah well.

Opial took her through the city, to a shop in-between the area by the docks and the Magistrate's house. The entrance was pinched between two larger buildings, their curved eaves nearly touched another, this cast a shadow of darkness over it as if the other buildings were apt to to swallow it whole.

The others waited outside while she tried on the articles of clothing and hundreds of different footwear from around the world. They all sat in miniature on a small turning table, and on touching a pair of plain, low-heeled short leather boots it enlarged and appeared in her hands. "Goodness!" she whispered. There wasn't any feel of magic about it. She tilted her head, and there—the faint click and whirr of gears. A mechanical tech of some sort, here and there they'd been showing up. The boots would do, while simple they were well made and the leather brushed and soft. Clothing always fit perfectly in shops back home, what with the resizing enchments, should be the same here. If not will just have to keep looking.

It was a lovely, enchanted shop that not only had a vast selection of what the people here wore, but a little of this and that from all over the world. The shopkeeper stood behind a lavish unvarnished pine counter, that was polished to a high gloss, the knots faced the entrance and had been worked into charming pattern of what looked to be chrysanthemums across it. Or, perhaps, mums? Flowers weren't her specialty, and often got them wrong. She hemmed and hawed on asking the shopkeeper, but so many other goods caught her attention. This place could make anyone forget the time.

Inside a locked glass on display in the middle of the shop, a lovely hoodless sky blue and green cloak hovered; it was made from spun bitter-silk and sapphire cotton. Uncle back home had an expansive tailor shop that dwarfed this one, he was always patient and answered any questions asked about such things. Delicate embroidery of hundreds of detailed protection runes all along the silken edge in gold and green, the work of a master tailor! She leaned closer, threads of white and silver shimmered below the surface of the weave. Well, now.

"It is nice, isn't it?" She jumped. The shopkeeper's steps were too quiet even for her hearing, his gray skin had a strange cracked scar running down the side of his small nose.

"The likenesses of which I hadn't seen in a long time." Anything of this quality would definitely be extraordinarily expensive.

The shopkeepers face slipped into shadow, and a flash of light went across their eyes. "There are other payments then coin in this world."

Her ears twitched. "And, what manner of payment would that be?" Don't like where this is going, just need some cheap boots and a thick standard cape. Should have left things alone. She fought to keep a smile on her face and relax her body. Maybe it was nothing, or maybe it was everything.

The shopkeeper smiled, but it held a coldness within it. "A small task, a mere trifle."

Her heart rate increased ever so slightly. "A task, eh? What does the cape do?"

He clasped his hands and grinned. "Ah, a clever woman, it must be those ears of yours; long ears sharp mind. You have a good eye; this is no ordinary cape! The wearer of the lionhearted cape will have increased defense against injuries at a small cost to health, and is quite strong against attacks."

She played with a strand of hair that tickled her cheek. It doesn't sound too bad, magic capes were rare and costly, as they often stayed in a family line, usually with the nobility. Maybe this one was newly made, it looked as much.

"There has to be some kind of a catch to this?"

The shopkeeper took the cape out of the case, walked over to a thin, rectangular table with carved ruler marks across its length and, in a corner at the end, several pins sticking from it. He placed the cape on it and spread it out, and he fixed the ties, adjusting them just so.

He moved to the side. "I've been waiting for one such as yourself to give this cape an owner." An inflection crept into his voice, lowering it further with a touch of scratching near the end, like scorpio-rats trying to get through a tent.

Despite the toasty temperature of the heated shop, a deep, knife-edged quiver charged up her backbone. "I think I can do without, but thank you most kindly though!" She forced a smile to plaster on, kept her voice level, clasped her shaking hands behind her back, and edged closer to the doorway. Ignoring one's intuition was a good way to lose an arm, along with a few fingers or worse. She grimaced. People tended to mistake an Elvin's age by a good eighty years or so. Not going to be that easy of a mark!

He flashed a bedazzling smile, that reached his eyes with those little folds on the sides of them. He held her gaze. She tried to face away but could not. His lips moved, as if mayhap saying or offering an apology, but she couldn't understand what he said. Threads of light spun about her and then broke and frayed apart.

She blinked. The shop became brighter and held nothing in shadow, its wares sparkled in the assorted displays and racks. "Did you say something?" She tilted her head and relaxed her shoulders. Must be wrong, nobody trying anything smiles like that; a kindness like that it can't be hidden. So foolish!

"No, miss, are you alright?" He placed a friendly, warm hand on her shoulder, his cheeks high, a kind of light rosy flush. He squeezed gently. "You look a bit peeked—why don't you sit down?" He lead her to the back of the store where a soft elvin chair was placed next to a small end table. "Oh where'd you get these?" She rocked on the pads of her feet. I'd be a joy to sit in one again.

"I have many friends that bring gifts. Sit. Rest."

Her feet moved on their own, and she sat in the plush chair. "Just for a moment, my friends are waiting."

"Friends love? You came here when your beloved dropped you off."

"Did I?" She tilted her head down to her chest, but nothing came to mind. "Why, how silly of me. I live here, don't I?"

"Yes, Miss, I've looked after you for many a year, what with your husband gone off to war. And we have a peaceful life."

A frown pulled her lips and brows down with them. "My memory fails me, who are you?" On trying to stand, the walls spun, and she landed hard back in the chair, which creaked as if in anger of the treatment. Her fingers gripped the chair, and the walls of the room spun faster.