‘Galen accepted the coins, counting them quickly in his palm and turning his back on the young woman who was still continuing her tireless sermon of gratitude. His hand rose, a swish of his fingers and the door slammed firmly in the customer’s face. It wasn’t that the mage didn’t appreciate the business. After all, it was the gold from the patrons of the city that kept him in meat and bread. Farmers, merchants and craftsmen, living simple lives that could be brought such simple excitement from a simple potion or enchanted bauble. It gave their lives meaning, and at some point he supposed it gave his as well.

But Galen was not a simple man, and as each year passed, it took more and more to bring meaning to his life. Every ounce of gold he earned went toward keeping up with his hobby, but as he looked around his tower, he felt a weak flicker of joy in his heart. He had hired the skills of passing druids, using their magics to cover his floors and walls with dense green. He’d spent endless nights enchanting his tomes to protect them from the nibbles of the mice that would inevitably escape their enclosures and from the persistent damp that only affected his chambers, even while the farmlands outside went dry. In the end though, it was worth every hour, every copper piece as long as it meant his collection was safe.

No. More than safe. Comfortable. Secure. Perfect. Protected.

Among the vines that now crawled up his bookshelves, a pair of eyes glistened at him, cold and unblinking. “You’re active today,” he said, a note of affection in his voice as he crossed over the moss that grew on the flagstone floor. “Are you hungry?”

The snake slowly, methodically, uncoiled itself from the vine, stretching out its powerful neck and flitting its tongue against his waiting hand. There was nothing magical about this reptile, nor any of the reptiles he cared for. There didn’t have to be. They were simply elegant and misunderstood, much as Galen saw himself. The snakes were not as affectionate as a dog or a cat. They were not useful in the traditional sense, as was a hawk or a horse. But they needed him and relied on him. Compared to the lush jungle he had created inside his tower, the dusty streets of the city and the farmlands beyond were as dry desert to the animals in his care. He had created an oasis just for them. And in return, they made his simple life less simple.

He was deep in thought, caressing the reptile’s smooth skin when a knock on the door startled him. Galen turned in annoyance, stalking past ropy vines, past the strange lizards that changed colors, past the tiny brown snakes that held very still and pretended to be branches. He came to the door and opened it again, looking out over the small town, and then turning his gaze downward to his guest. A pair of young boys held up a chirping box, trying to peek around his legs at the mysteries beyond.

“We caught a whole bunch today! It’s gotta be a dozen, maybe two!” The boy said eagerly. Galen picked up the small parcel and lifted the lid, seeing far more than a dozen crickets and grasshoppers, but their inability to count was not his concern. “Can we pet her?”

“What?” Galen blinked, then realized that a snake was draped lazily over his shoulders. “Yes but be gentle,” he said, allowing the boys to come close enough to touch the creature's head. The python accepted the attention placidly. “And remember don’t go trying to touch wild snakes. Gertude has no venom, she squeezes the life from her prey. The ones you find on your own may not be quite as obliging.”

“How come she doesn’t squish you then?”

The mage chuckled. “Because I’m much bigger and scarier than she is.”

“The caravan man’s snake could squish you! I bet it could squish even Stampy the ox!”

Galen’s eyes narrowed and he straightened, drawing his precious constrictor from their reach. “What ‘caravan man’? What are you talking about?”

In unison, both boys turned and pointed out beyond the borders of the town. Over the rooftops, he could see the colorful flags flying and hear the hint of music on the wind. His sour frown deepened.

Paying the boys a silver to split between them for the food for his pets, he slipped inside again. A moment later he was descending the stairs to his tower, dressed in his most regal robes and holding his impressive staff.

On the far side of the houses, the smell of sweet incense filled the air, the sound of music grew stronger. Dancers frollicked and played for the amusement of the crowd, their bells and bright colors a stark contrast against that of the farmers. Children ran and played, groups sang and drank and danced, even though the day was still young. But it was the wagon that sat alone from the group, wafting perfumed smoke into the crowd that caught his interest. A sign out front advertised exotic creatures on the side in various languages.

As Galen approached, the owner of the show stepped out. He was covered in colorful scarves from head to toe, so many that only his golden eyes glittered out at the mage. Over his shoulders was a massive reptile. The weight would bow the back of a lesser man and the sheer size put his prized Gertrude to shame. Its forked tongue was the width of his finger.

“By the gods, is that a morass python?” He asked, moving closer.

“Ahhh, you have a good eye my friend,” the Caravan Man said, his Common heavily accented. “He was taken as an egg from the Neglected Basin.”

“I’m a bit of a collector myself,” Galen said, a note of pride in his voice.

“Oh? Then you must come inside. Perhaps I can entice you with the secrets of Taralensia,” the strange man purred, turning and moving inside without waiting for a reply.

Galen hesitated only a moment, before he too entered the small building. Inside the sweet perfumy smoke was dense, intoxicating. Through the haze he could see cages lining the wall, each holding a different exotic creature. Small gliding lizards with brightly colored membranes -- he already had one of those. Color changing creatures with bulbous eyes that always pointed in different directions. Galen had a breeding pair at home. Snakes of every color and pattern imaginable. But still he frowned.

“My friend, you seem disappointed,” the man wrapped in scarves said. “Are you not impressed? Do these treasures not interest you?”

“While your treasures are indeed impressive…” He began, trailing off.

“Ahhhh… Say no more. I see now that you are indeed a true collector. You will not be satisfied by anything less than the most exquisite, most rare of creatures. I think I have just the thing for you.”

Galen’s brow perked with intrigue and moved to follow him. He didn’t recall the wagon being this big from the outside. Certainly not large enough for the second room they found themselves in. It was darker in here, the smoke thicker and sweeter. Colorful scarves hung from the ceiling, and Galen found himself getting lost, even though he must only be a few feet away from the Caravan Man.  Finally he pushed through a curtain, only to be stopped by a hand blocking his chest.

“This specimen is very rare. Her species is only found in the caverns of the Dragonspine Mountains. Rather small, very shy you see. But what makes her even more spectacular…”

With a dramatic flair, the Caravan Man drew a final curtain back and revealed a circle of silken cushions, upon which the incense censure sat. And beside it, sitting with the eternal alert patience he had come to recognize in the rest of his collection was something that looked not like a snake or a lizard or in fact any creature he had seen before.

It was a woman.

Porcelain white skin, with hair the color of starlight, she sat with hands folded on the cushions. Across her eyes was an ornately decorated scarf. Her head turned slowly in his direction.

“Beautiful, is she not? An albino, so rare in any species, but in a creature such as her...”

Galen found himself backing away. “How dare you!! I don’t know what you think I meant, but I collect animals, not people! I am no slaver! I will take no sentient creature!” His head felt fuzzy, he could feel his heartbeat in his throat. Turning, he rushed back the way he had come, batting curtain after curtain aside, stumbling through the smoke until --

-- He found himself standing beside the Caravan Man again, with the creature in front of him.

Galen looked around in confusion. He was certain he had been moving towards the exit. The wagon was not circular, this was not possible. The man was moving forward, the strange creature slowly turned her head  as if to watch him, and he drew back one of the curtains that had fallen across her lap.

“Be calm, my friend. I think perhaps you are confused. I assure you, she is a lizard.”

Where legs should be was a long, thick tail, coiling around the cushion, scales shining pearlescent in the dim --’

Cara frowned, looking at the bottom of the torn page. Where was the rest?? Moving as quietly as possible, she started going through the gear they had taken off the boy again. Some quill nibs, a small knife, some waterlogged bread and meats, but no papers. It was amazing that this one had even managed to survive, but in Avenholme waterproofing enchantments were common and inexpensive.

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The girl glanced over her shoulder at Roy, who was asleep again, arm slung and wing set. Empty potion bottles sat on the table beside him, ready to be replaced with fresh ones. In a minute. She carefully folded and replaced the items and looked around. On the floor next to his soggy boots was his belt with an intricately decorated scroll case on either side. From the top of each case was a handle. She’d never seen a design quite like that before, but if he was going to keep writing protected, then where else would he put it?

Rune’s green eyes watched as the girl slowly, quietly, moved to where they lay. She picked one up, clasped the handle and gently pulled. Nothing. Frowning, she pulled harder. It didn’t budge. Maybe it was enchanted? Or maybe it was mechanical. The decorations down the side must be some sort of coding. Or a puzzle! Her feathers ruffled in glee as she carefully felt over every ridge and curve, hunting for a clue.

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to play with a man’s scroll?”

Cara dropped the belt and leapt away, her face going instantly hot.

“And while he’s sleeping too. Have you no shame?” Roy was grinning at her groggily from the bed. With his uninjured hand, he reached for the belt from her. Still blushing fiercely, she obliged. But instead of showing her the secrets within, he shifted it against his side, protected between his body and his wing.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “But… well, I was hoping it had the rest of your story in it.”

“It doesn’t,” he replied, rubbing his eyes, then wincing. As expected, the bruise had matured overnight, his eye swollen and tender. Above his brow was a v-shaped cut. Cara frowned, realizing the scar would be a permanent reminder of the lost duel.

“I couldn’t get it open. Is it a puzzle or a lock? How is it sealed?”

“Magic,” he answered, flat and unconvincing. “You Ravens, too curious for your own good.”

At first she drew away, injured, but he winked at her and offered an amicable grin. “Let me have this secret, aye? It would be no fun if you knew all my tricks.”

This seemed to satisfy the girl and she let out a soft giggle, her brown eyes glittering. Roy shifted to sit up, digging his heels into the padding to push himself towards the head of the bed. On the cabinet, Rune gave a delighted purr and leapt down towards the bed. She fell for a moment, but after a heartbeat the enchantment in her collar activated and her descent slowed, drifting lazily onto the mattress. Once landed, she bounded forward and jumped onto her master’s abdomen.

“Aww, Rune did you miss me-- ow ow you’re standing on my bladder.” the Peacock awkwardly looped an arm around the cat and pulled her closer to his chest. Continuing to purr, the little calico started kneading eagerly against his ribs. “How long was I out?”

“A few hours. It’s a side effect of the potions, but the more you sleep now, the less time it’ll take you to heal later.” He gave a soft grunt of acknowledgement, playing with the animal’s fur. “How do you feel?”

“Better than yesterday. But still like I was shot out of a cannon and into the side of an airship. And through the bow. And probably into a crewman or five.”

“That good huh?”

He grinned wider at her, “Oh yes, I highly recommend it.” He caught her gaze with his stormy blue eyes, and with a giggle she turned away again. When she looked back, he was frowning at something among the empty potion bottles.

“What’s this?” As if on command, Rune leapt up and trotted across the mattress to the table, picking up a feather and bringing it back to her owner. It was mostly black with speckles of brown and a white tip. And it was long. Very long.

“Oh! You had visitors, I almost forgot. Velius Shadowcaster came to check on you, but you were sleeping. He left that, saying he was repaying you for something?”

Roy narrowed his eyes in thought, then burst out laughing, wincing in pain and reaching for his bruised ribs. “By the Divines… I think this is the big lunk’s idea of a joke. A few weeks ago he needed a quill, so I cut him one from my wing. I do it all the time, it’s nothing. He kept insisting that he would repay me, but this --” he gave the feather a swish. It was longer than his entire arm, and when he mimed writing with it, the white tip waggled enthusiastically. Rune rose back on her haunches to bat at it. “Can you imagine?”

“You should use it anyhow! It would be funny!”

Roy snickered and moved to lay it back on the table, out of the way of the feisty cat. “Aye. You said there were others?”

“Your aunt came by, you were a little lucid and kept worrying about your feathers,” Now it was his turn to flush with embarrassment. “And Valentin Widowmourne came with a message from his mother. She says to come by as soon as you’re feeling better, she’s made cookies for you. That was sweet of her!”

There was a flicker of concern across the man’s eyes at the mention of Maven Widowmourne, but it was hidden almost immediately behind another charming smile. “I’ll be sure to bring some for you in exchange for all your hard work. Without you…” He laid back dramatically, “I’d be sunk at the bottom of the ocean, food for some hungry fish. Or a waterbound soarwhale.”

Cara giggled. “You mean a normal whale?”

He gave an exaggerated sigh, looking at her wistfully. “Selfless and intelligent. And yet you stay cooped up here in this temple.” Cara swooned, then startled as a hand came to rest on her shoulder.

“Alright, Peacock, rein in the charm. You’re going to put the poor girl into a tizzy.” Maya teased, letting the embarrassed Cara slip off to replace the potion bottles. “I take it that means you’re feeling better?”

“My darling Air Caller, is that jealousy I hear in your voice?”

“I’ll take that as a yes. Let me see that eye of yours,” the Owl crossed around to his other side, taking his face in her hands to examine the bruise. The white of the injured eye was completely bloodshot into an almost uniform red, making the blue of the irises stand out in unnerving contrast. The bruise began over the cut and spread down nearly to his cheekbone.

“You know I only have eyes for you, Madam Whisperwind. Youth could never compete with experience.”

“Well, you’ll have a nice battle scar.”

“I would suffer a thousand falls for a single word from your lips,”

“Enough. We all know you’re the king of charm, but it’s time to turn it off.”

“You know, they say that ‘Roy’ means King in the Human tongue.”

“Oh the ‘Human tongue’, eh? You mean Common? The tongue we’re speaking right now?”

“It’s very similar yes, but with one crucial difference.”

Maya waited for him to continue on his own, but he simply grinned at her, patiently waiting. She sighed reluctantly. “Alright, I’ll bite. What’s the difference?”

“Aven speak with a higher inflection. Get it? Higher? Because we fly?”

“That was terrible. Move to your hip, let me see your wing.”

“Can’t wait to get your hands on me, eh? A defenseless younger man--”

“Roy. Enough. What’s got you so nervous that you can’t turn it off?”

“Nothing,” he muttered unconvincingly, but gradually the manic brightness faded, leaving behind a subdued sort of calm. She gently unhooked the break harness and carefully extended his damaged wing. He hissed softly in pain as she ran her hands over the top of the bone. The feathers, though still mussed from the salt water and in need of preening were a gorgeous iridescent blue, and when fully extended the green and gold eye feathers glittered along the bottom ridge.

“You’re healing nicely. In a few more days you can try to fly again. Only short bursts, across walkways and the like. If it starts to hurt, don’t push yourself. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He grunted again softly as she carefully refolded his wing and strapped it back into the harness. From the main room came a crash, causing him to open both wings in a panic, crying out in pain.

“Easy now, easy -- Cara? What’s going on out there?”

“We’re fine, Maya!” called a different voice. “My brother is just-- For Imodai’s sake, Elias, stop being a child, you did this to yourself.”

Cara rushed into the room, her wings held tight against her back and an armful of full potion bottles clutched to her chest. Immediately behind her came the High Justice, one eye tightly shut against the light, the other barely open in a squint, his face pulled into a grimace. “By the Divines woman, just let me buy a tonic to rid me of this blasted headache. Come here, Corina,”

“Cara!” Cara corrected.

“Whatever, come take this pretty gold piece and give me one of those bottles.”

“No!” Helena yelled, and suddenly the small room became very crowded. “He’s learning an important lesson, don’t give him one!”

Maya rolled her eyes and carefully rebound the wing, checking to make sure it hadn’t exacerbated the injury with the little jolt. “Cara, when you’re done playing I could use one of those.”

Helena had grabbed her brother by the wings and was trying to pull him backwards, but the man was stronger and determined to get to one of the bottles. He dragged her forward a few paces, snatching one from Cara and pulling the cork out. Helena rushed to grab his arm, but he planted his large palm firmly on her face and held his sibling back as he took a mighty gulp. In only a moment, his grimace relaxed and his eyes focused properly in the daylight. Victorious, he released Helena, who scowled at him and crossed her arms.

“You deserved every minute of that, you know.” She grumbled.

Elias just smirked. “Do you mind, dear sister? I’m here to see my son.” Not taking his eyes from her, he handed Roy the other half of the bottle. The boy took it and settled back into a comfortable position on the bed.

The man turned then, ignoring his sister to look his son over. “That is a hell of a bruise. How’s the head?”

“Better. I’ll be happier when I can fly again.”

“Well let’s focus on getting you well enough to leave the hospital bed first, mm? Drink it.”

Roy obeyed, grimacing at the bitter taste as his father turned to address the healer. His aunt moved to his good side, stretching out his uninjured wing to begin working on his feathers for him.

“When can he come home, Madam Whisperwind?” Elias asked, careful to keep his tone light and polite.

“You seem to have your head about you better today, Engelbrecht. He can go home this afternoon, but it will be a bit before he’s back fully on his feet. I recommend he take it easy and sleep as much as possible to allow the potions to work.”

“Very well. Your work is commendable, Grand Air Caller. Thank you for saving my boy.” He bowed low, bending at the waist and dipping his wings. The healer waved at him dismissively.

“I do enjoy your improved attitude, but there is no need to thank me. The Winds chose to save him, I am merely their vessel.”

She continued to speak, but Roy felt his eyes begin to swim in their sockets again. The feel of Helena’s fingers working on his wing was soothing, the calm, strong voice of his father was comforting, and he leaned back to rest his eyes. Only for a moment.