Chapter 8 – Journey West

	You never really know someone until you try to.  I think we take for granted what people are, and paint them with a broad brush after a few meetings, or enough dialogue that we think we’ve got their character down.  I know from experience that no man, or woman, is who they appear on first meeting.  Or second, or even a lifetime’s worth sometimes.  You have to really dig.
	And that requires two things.  For one, you have to be willing and invested in learning about them, because it’s not going to be easy.  You have to be prepared to be disappointed, pleasantly surprised, and above all, to keep an open mind.  You have to try to look at what they’ve done and how they feel from their perspective, and that’s easily the hardest part.  Especially when it’s someone wholly different than you.
	Harder still if they’re very similar to you.  Because then you get a dose of your own medicine, and often times, you won’t like what you see.  Then comes the doubt, the realization of who you are and potentially who you could become.  That can be a dark road.
	The second thing that’s necessary is that they be willing to open up.  To be honest, you’ll never have that chance with most everyone you meet.  So most people, you’ll never really know.  Useful to keep that in mind next time you’re judging someone.  You know jack shit.
	On the few occasions you have the chance to really listen to someone who’s spilling their guts, I suggest you take it.  Because it’s rare, and it’s better than knowing jack shit.

	“It’s gotta be this one, right?”  Lavanya says, pointing to the longest, thinnest and most delicate looking tool in the bunch.  We’ve got our stolen blacksmithing tools laid out on the floor of Raja’s room, and we’re assessing them over a breakfast of bread and honey.
	That’s right, honey.  As it turns out, amongst her various other crimes while we’d been there, Anala had robbed the Contract Manager’s office, and made off with a small fortune that we were now enjoying.  There’d been a box of very valuable coins, Amurescan golden crowns apparently (that’s where the Dog Lords lived, Ahsan had finally explained to me) hidden in one of the scroll cases she’d rifled through for kindling.  Ahsan had theorized that the Contract Manager had been embezzling, otherwise the money would have been moved to a lockbox at the end of the day.
	I’d also learned the word ‘embezzling’.  I guess it’s basically like stealing, but done by people who are already rich, from people who are even richer.  Being a fugitive was proving to be quite the education.
	“I don’t think so,” I muse, pushing a few of them around to get a better look at them.  “The handle’s really long, so it’s probably meant to be used in the forge, or for things that have to be worked on really hot.  The collars are cut at a temperature hot enough to break them, but not hot enough to scald away the servant’s throat.”
	“Good point,” she murmurs.  “So we’re looking for one with an edge.”
	“A few of them look like they could cut,” Ahsan says, pointing to three or four of them.  
	“That one there,” Lavanya points to one with a zig-zag pattern on the tong end that looks very familiar, “is for making the weakened parts.  The seams.”  She points at one of the seams on her collar
	“Yeah, alright,” I nod, moving that to the side.  “So we can exclude that one.”
	“Kadar,” Anala’s voice catches all of our attention from the doorway.  I look up to see her, dressed down from her armor to her tunic and loose pants.  She looks so much smaller without it all, yet no less intimidating.
	“Something wrong?”  I ask as I stand.
	She shakes her head.  “No, but I need your help with one of the camels.  She’s being difficult.”
	Ahsan gives me a pitying look and Lavanya just makes a face.  “Enjoy that,” she mutters.
	I’d sort of become the de facto wrangler for the beasts ever since we’d gotten them.  I really had very little experience with camels, but I’d managed donkeys before, when I worked at the kilns.  So I was the best we had for the job.  They were ornery, often disgusting animals, so no one envied my position.
	I head out to the small paddock out back, really more of an empty lot refitted for the occasional beast of burden.  Our two camels are standing in the corner near the water barrel, looking defensive and irritable.  To be fair, we’d taken these animals from their rightful owners, who they’d probably been attached to.  They had every right to be irritable.
	“I’m trying to put salve that rat gave me on the sore she has under her right foreleg,” Anala explains.  “She absolutely will not stand still.  Any time I get anywhere near the sore, she tries to bite me.”
	“You have to distract her with something,” I tell her, heading towards our camel bags.  Inside, I’m fairly certain, we still have a small bag of almonds.  “Any time you have to treat an animal for some kind of small injury, the best way to keep them calm is food.  Give them something positive to focus on.”
	“I was just hoping you’d hold her by the lead and keep her head away from me,” she mutters.  “You spoil that creature.”
	“If she doesn’t want you there, I’m not going to be able to stop her,” I say.  “She’ll just start to think holding the lead means we’re planning to hurt her.  And we’re going to have to keep treating it, so. . . better for her to trust us, right?”
	“I suppose that makes sense,” she agrees with a sigh.  “So you feed her-“
	“You do it,” I say, handing her the bag.  “She’s already pretty fond of me.  She needs to learn to trust you.”
	“She bites me when I feed her,” she growls out.
	“Don’t growl around her, first off,” I reach for her hand and flatten it, folding her thumb underneath it.  “And hold your hand flat.  Don’t stick your fingers out, and she won’t bite them.  And put the almonds in your palm slowly, so she doesn’t eat them all at once.”
	She begins to slowly feed the camel, and I focus on rubbing the salve on the small sore.  Considering it’s right where one of her straps usually lies, t’s probably also our fault, from putting her tack on too tightly.  We don’t really know how to properly handle these animals or their gear yet.	
	For the most part, the camel stays calm and focused on her almonds while I treat her, and we spend the bulk of the time in silence.  Until Anala says something that surprises me.
	“So the cats are sharing a room now,” she mutters, in a tone that sounds almost too petulant to be coming from her, of all people.  
	“Yes. . . .” I say uncertainly, not sure where she’s going with that.
	“I suppose it was only a matter of time,” she replies, and gives me little more than that.  It seems an odd series of statements to have made, unless. . . .
	I rub the last of the salve onto the camel and back up slowly, never taking my eyes off Anala.  “Are you upset?”  I ask, uncertainly.  What I want to say, of course, is ‘jealous’.  Because she’s certainly acting that way.  But I figure she’ll be more willing to talk if I sound less accusatory.
	“Not. . . upset,” she says, dropping the last of the almonds on the ground and dusting off her paws.  
	“Really,” I say, unconvinced.  “Because you sound it.”
	“I was just hoping not to be the odd man out,” she says, seeming dejected.  
	“Where’s this coming from?”  I lean against the remains of the foundation of, what I assume, used to be the building occupying this lot.  “Are you,” I choose my words carefully, “ah. . . were you. . . hoping for something with Lavanya?”
	“No,” she says, not sounding angry or defensive, so I’m pretty sure she’s being honest.  “It’s not that.  I respect her as a comrade and a woman, but I hadn’t hoped for anything romantic, if that’s what you meant.  Besides, my faith forbids it.”
	“Ah,” I say.  “I’ve heard about monks and priests having to take vows like that.  So, full on chastity?”  I would normally feel like I’m probing too much, but she doesn’t seem uncomfortable.
	“It doesn’t matter what we do with our bodies,” she replies.  “But our hearts. . . they must belong only to Anala.”
	“That gets confusing,” I sigh.  “You having the same name as your Goddess.”
	“We are our Goddess,” she says.  “We are her many arms.”  She pauses, then admits, “But yes, it can be.  You have no idea how complicated it gets at the temples.  The older Priestesses say you get used to it, that you know your sisters because you simply know them.  But try calling out to one particular woman in a room of sisters.”
	I laugh.  “Sounds rough.”
	She chuckles too, and not in a manic, aggressive, ‘I’m about to run you through’ sort of way, for once.  It’s strange to see any kind of feelings expressed on the woman’s face that aren’t violent, obsessive or irritated.  But there’s a person there beneath the zealot, and every once in a while I get to see her.
	She stops chuckling eventually and turns her muzzle up to the sky.  I’ve seen her do it often, like she’s looking for something up there.
	“My name was Shaan,” she says quietly, at length.  “Before I took my vows.”
	“Shaan,” I begin, but she cuts me off.
	“No longer,” she says, not sounding aggressive, but very definitive.  “I may have turned from the Sura, but I have not turned from my faith.  I believe the Goddess sees me even here in this place, and is still guiding my arm.  She wants me here.  Helping you.  I am Anala.  Shaan is just the woman I used to be.”
	Part of getting to know someone is knowing when not to push.  I’m curious about the circumstances that lead to Anala- or Shaan, I suppose, becoming a Priestess, but it doesn’t seem to be what she wants to speak about, and that’s alright.  There’s still enormous gaps in what I know of Ahsan’s past, and that’s alright, too.  It’s not as though I’m entitled to know everything about them, especially if they’re not ready to talk about it.  
	But she clearly wants to talk about something.
	“What’s got you like this?”  I ask directly.  “If it’s not jealousy. . . .”
	“I suppose it is, in some sense,” she says, her tone suggesting she’s just now coming to terms with that.  “I feel, that is to say I’m almost certain now, that once the cheetah is well enough, we are all going to go our separate ways.”
	“I don’t think-“ I begin.
	“We might escape the city together,” she says, “but past that, nothing is binding us together.  Save your connections to one another.  And now I am the only one unattached.”
	I cross my arms over my chest.  “Well first off,” I say, “I think you’re wrong about Lavanya and Raja.  The way she’s been acting with him, and really with all of us, has always struck me as more. . . motherly?  Lavanya isn’t a warrior like you, she isn’t even really as capable in a fight as Raja and I, or even Ahsan when he’s pressed.  She’s trying to find her place amongst us same as you seem to be worried about.  And if you’d actually listened to what she said last night, I think you’d have realized that, too.”
	Anala’s boxy ears tip back a bit at that, probably at the memory of Lavanya’s strong words.  I could tell then that the Priestess had taken them to heart, but it didn’t seem to me that she’d really understood.
	“She’s the most focused on us taking care of one another,” I say.  “Even when we were doing things I didn’t approve of, stealing to get by, it was all about providing for us as a group, and that’s why she was for it.  She wants to survive- she wants us to survive together, and I think she wants us to start looking at ourselves as more of a family.  A Pride, I think that’s how she put it.  Makes sense.  Lions are big on unity, and I don’t think she’s had much of that for a long time now.  That, to me, suggests that she wants us all to stay together.  Don’t you think?”
	“Yes,” she agrees.  “It does.”
	“I do, too,” I clarify now, so that she’s not in doubt.  “We’re stronger together.  Whether or not we will end up traveling together from here on out comes down to what everyone wants.  If we don’t want the same things, well. . . .”
	“I want to be a part of your fight,” she says, her gaze locking with mine.  There’s that fervor, again.  “Wherever it takes you.  I feel with every shred of my soul that this path is right, that this is where the Goddess wills me to be-“
	“Alright, alright,” I put my hands up.  “We know all of that.  No one doubts your focus, or your devotion.  The question I think the others are asking is. . . why?”
	She has no immediate answer for that.
	“We’re all fighting for basically the same thing,” I explain.  “For some of us it’s to rebuild a family, or to reclaim one we lost.  Raja and Ahsan just want to know what it means to be their own man, and greet the world as a free person each morning.  But we all have one thing in common,” I tug at the steel ring around my neck.  “And by the way, no one’s forgotten that you used to be part of the powers that did this to us,” I say, trying not to sound angry or accusatory, but it’s hard.  
	“That is fair,” she says quietly.  “But I’ve never kept an indentured person myself.  I simply worked for the Clan.  I wasn’t even a guard specifically tasked with controlling servants.  I directed the guard house at the manor.  We were more concerned with raiders or rival clans than servant revolts.”
	“If you hadn’t slowed us down inside the manor,” I say, “we probably would have escaped alive with Lochan.  All of us.”
	“The Matron never would have let you take Ahsan away from her,” she counters.  “Remember it was she who shot the old gladiator, not I.  And you can’t know how much that has tortured me.”
	“Maybe you should tell them all,” I say softly.

	
	“After your flight from the Sura Plantation, I was. . . in crisis,” Anala says, speaking to a very curious audience as we all crowd around one of the more private tables in the bar area downstairs.  Even Raja’s come down for this, and while he’s not moving with his usual energy or grace, I’m glad to see that he’s at least back on his feet this morning.  We’ve been here three days now, and the rat- he’s informed us by now that his name is Ermingild- has said Raja is healing up well.  He lost a lot of blood before we got him here unfortunately, so he’s been very tired, but it seems certain now that he’ll fully recover given enough time.
	“I prayed, I agonized,” she continues, “I even flogged myself, in my search for purpose.  You must understand, I signed on with the Sura first and foremost because they were once a Clan rife with conflict and with many enemies.  We are pushed to work for rich clans, of course, because of our tithing.  Half of everything I earned working on that Plantation went to my Order.  I was not there for the coin.  I was seeking meaning, which for my sisters and I is a battle, a skirmish, a war worth fighting.  In my whole time there I saw nothing of the kind.  I am past my thirty-fifth year, now.  I was worried I was running out of time.”
	She knits her fingers together on the table, looking down at her rough palms.  “The fight with the Aard-“ she stops, looking to Ahsan’s disapproving expression, “with Lochan,” she corrects quietly, “was the first real challenge I’d had in years.  But after much soul-searching, I came to feel that while it would have been honorable to fall to a man of such skill in combat, it is not what the Goddess intended for me.  I was there as a witness to Matron Sura’s cowardice, and moreover, to see how the world as a whole is changing.”
	“That’s true,” Raja mutters, flexing his shoulder with a wince.  “Those weapons are fucking terrifying.  Stuff of myth.  It’s no wonder they’re conquering the damn world with them.”
	“Soon, there will be no place for women like me,” Anala says, grimly.  “Anyone with a pistol or a rifle and the will to use it can stop the greatest warrior dead in their tracks with one pull of a finger.  Anala’s power will wane as the true art of warfare is lost, and our Order will fade away with her.  All this knowledge, I contended with for many weeks, after the raid on the Plantation.  It was hard.  It was the most lost I have ever felt.”
	“Fine,” Raja says, sounding pretty damn uninterested.  “But if you don’t mind my saying so Priestess, you’re not usually one to bitch.  What’s the point here?”
	“Kadar felt I should explain to you all,” she sighs, “why it is I’ve joined you, and moreover, why I wish to remain at your side.”
	No one immediately objects, so she continues.  “I may be one of the last of my generation,” Anala says.  “And I think I was meant to witness what I did, and to see the injustice of it.  So that I could see the injustice of what has been done to all of you.  I have come to believe that Anala means for me to champion your fight.  What greater odds could there possibly be?  This isn’t just about the Sura.  It is about Mataa.  You are all meant to make some kind of difference in this country.  And I am meant to be your sword.  Not because I’ll be the one leading you, but simply because I have the skill.  This is not my war. . . it’s yours.  But I know my purpose now, and it is to be a part of it.”
	“We’ve gotten extraordinarily lucky so far,” Ahsan says.  “We’re treading on very dangerous territory, here.  A servant who runs from their contract is one thing, but a servant who directly fights the Clans?”
	“It’s happened throughout history,” Anala insists.  “We read up on many large slave revolts and uprisings when I was still studying war at the temple.”
	“Yes, but slavery never ended,” I point out.  “So that tells me no one’s been successful.”
	“Yet,” Anala says quietly, but emotionally.  “It is because your battle is against such overwhelming odds that it is so important.”
	Everyone is silent for a time following that, and I can see the spectrum of conflicting feelings passing through the people in our group.  
	Ahsan is the first to break the silence.  “She’s right,” he says quietly.  “It might seem impossible, but. . . how many servants were there on the Sura Plantation?  And how many guards?  We won there because we outnumbered them, pure and simple.  I’m pretty sure indentured peoples outnumber the Clans by at least double, even if we’re including lesser Clan members.  Maybe more.  If someone was able to inspire them all to stand up, to fight-“
	“There’d be a lot of dead servants,” Lavanya interjects.  “It’s not just about numbers.  Especially with these new weapons they’re buying from the northerners.”
	“Dela said something to me,” I speak up, “about this system being one that couldn’t last.  That it’s the last dying gasp of slavery, or something.  I don’t know about that.  If we do nothing to change it, it’ll probably stay as it is for a long time.  But I do think it’s precarious.  The Clans ultimately care about money, power, and territory.  Anything that threatens those three things, even if it’s not enough to send the whole system crashing down, might eventually just prove too expensive for them to continue using.  I mean, just think about it.  We’re goods, a product for sale, to them.  If enough of that product is too hard to handle, or you have to keep destroying it, it doesn’t become worth it sell it any more.”
	“Are you suggesting we clog them with bodies?”  Lavanya asks, in that very Lavanya-esque, dry way.
	“I’m saying- we have their tool,” I say, pointedly.  “And think of all the damage we’ve caused so far, even with our collars on.  If enough people had the nerve to stand up to them, they wouldn’t stand a chance.  And this tool could be our rallying cry.  If we can figure out how to use it, and start freeing people across the country, we could really start something.”
	“Kadar and I are of one mind on that,” Anala says, looking across the faces on the table.  “He wishes to head West, to the coast.  I will be accompanying him.”
	“I have reason to believe my family is being kept on one of these Shanivaar islands,” I explain.  “Indentured.  And literally with no escape, even if they wish to.  We were able to run.  There’s nowhere to run on an island.  I can’t imagine how much more abusive the indentured practices could be in a place cut off like that.  I have to go, and if they’re still there, help them escape.”
	“Hey, wait,” Raja says, putting his palms flat on the table.  “Are you taking the Liberator tool?”
	“That’s the idea,” I reply.
	“Well that’s not fucking right,” he says defiantly.  “We all fought for that thing.  I got shot over it!”
	“Lower your voice,” Lavanya chides him, and he looks at her irritably, but does so.
	“I’m sorry,” I say plainly.  “But Ahsan is coming with me as well, and that’s more than half of us.  You like things cut and dry Raja, so here’s how it is- we’re going west.  Three of us, at least.  And we’re taking the tool with us.”
	“Look, we don’t have to be at each other’s throats,” Ahsan says, speaking calmly to the irate cheetah, whose already thick, spiky hackles are on end.  “This is a very small island full of indentured people.  They’re trying to establish it as a trading port of some kind, but right now there are only a few hundred people there.”
	“So I’ve heard, anyway,” Anala adds.
	“So they have to have a Liberator,” Ahsan reasons.  “In a very small community.  He should be easy to find.”
	“We tried this already,” Raja insists.  “They can’t talk.  They can’t write.  I thought we were going to try to figure it out on our own.”
	“We still need a forge,” I point out.  “A working forge, which isn’t that easy to come by.  And we only have Sachsen’s word that all Liberators are as brainwashed and dead to the world as that one was.  He was old, maybe if we find a younger one-“
	“You just want to go after your family,” the cheetah says.  
	“I’m not denying that,” I say.
	“So just say as much,” Raja growls, leaning back in his chair.  “You think I don’t understand that?  I had a family, once.  Just because my mother died doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten how it felt.  If I had the chance. . .” he looks down a moment, sniffing and wrinkling his nose, “. . . I’d do anything to get her back.”
	I smile just a bit.  “Raja.  Will you help me find my family?”
	“You’ll owe me forever,” he replies, leveling his blue-eyed gaze at me.  “But yeah.  Just don’t bullshit me from now on out.”
	“Agreed, no more bullshitting,” Lavanya speaks up, “from any of us.  We all need to be unified in purpose.”
	“We need to get as far from this city as possible, anyway,” Anala says.  “And soon.  Sigfried says he’s caught a few of the boys who come here sniffing around about us.  The word’s out on the streets, too.  The Sura are fractured, but they’re also angry.  They’ve raised the bounty on us again, too.”
	I look around the table.  “I think we’re agreed, then,” I ask, just to make sure.  
	“Alright,” I nod.  “Let’s get Ermingild.”

	“Is that how that’s meant to be used?”  I ask in amazement when the rat emerges from the alley behind Sigfried’s establishment.
	The small creature gives me a curious look, pulling back the hood of his cloak.  Then his eyes follow the direction of mine, and he chuckles.  “Oh.  The blade?  Yes, indeed.”
	The odd blade he’d used to cut off the arrowhead, which I’d thought was meant to be attached to the top of some kind of polearm, was in fact actually meant to fit over the rat’s tail, about two thirds of the way down.  It had a metal sleeve of sorts, and was bound in place with leather straps.
	“How well does it actually stay on?”  I ask out of sheer curiosity.
	“Well enough to surprise someone with it,” he winks at me.  “Most people don’t spend a whole lot of time looking at rat’s tails.  Beneath my cloak, it’s hardly noticeable.  But a quick flick, and suddenly I’ve gotten your achilles and you’d never know how.  Great for making a swift escape.  Not so much for outright combat.”
	“Clever,” Anala agrees, now more than a little interested that the topic’s turned to weapons.
	“We need to get moving,” he says, ushering us towards the back gate.  It’s really more of a rickety old fence that butts up against the building on the other side.  “The caravan I’ve arranged won’t wait long.”
	We follow him, leading the camels and what remains of our belongings.  The most valuable of all, of course, the bag of blacksmithing tools, I’m carrying.  
	“Now I would have preferred to send you along with a group of my own kind,” Ermingild explains as we navigate the narrow alleyways, avoiding the streets entirely.  He seems to know how to move us through the city through the buildings, avoiding larger open spaces.  “But you would have stood out in a caravan comprised entirely of rats, so I negotiated with a man moving a large herd of camels and goats.  I believe him to be trustworthy, but just to be sure, I’ll be coming along with you.”
	“Really?”  I ask, surprised.  I hadn’t expected the rat to do much more than find us a contact and then leave us to it.  “You’ll forgive me for being suspicious,” I say uncertainly, “but why?”
	“Honestly, I’d like to get out of this city,” the rat explains.  “You hit the hornet’s nest, and we’re some of the first people the Sura come after when they’re angry.  Many of my kind are leaving.”
	“We’re sorry,” Ahsan says, sounding guilty.  
	“Yeah,” I agree.  Once again, leaving problems in our wake.  It’s hard to remember in the moment sometimes that these things we do have ripples.  
	“Don’t be,” the rat chirps cheerfully.  “I’ve never seen the coast, it’ll be quite the adventure.  Besides, it does my heart good to see someone balancing the scales now and again.  It’s not your fault they’re tyrants who throw a tantrum every time someone disrupts their ‘business’.”
	He pokes his head out an alleyway and peers into the busy street beyond, then looks back at us, blinking his big dark eyes.  “Someday, there will be a reckoning.  Mark my words.  The meek will rise up, and this country will change.  For the present though, I’m just glad to be a troublemaker.”
	He points down the street, to what I can only assume must be our caravan, judging by the sheer amount of meandering animals being herded around several water troughs near a well.
	“So many camels,” Lavanya mutters, disgustedly.
	“We will disappear off into the sunset amidst a braying, spitting, smelly mass of herd animals,” Ermingild says, smiling back at us.  “Did I deliver, or what?”

	
	Two months pass.  Two hot, increasingly humid, hard months.  The trip to the coast would probably have taken half as much time if we hadn’t been traveling with a herd, but so it is.  Apparently part of the deal we’d had to broker with this man to join him and avoid questions was that we’d work for him the whole while, keeping his animals in check.  Which is a frustrating affair, especially for people like Lavanya and Anala, who aren’t accustomed to any kind of work like it.  Lavanya adjusts pretty quickly, but Anala seems displeased the entire way.
	I don’t mind the work, honestly.  And the trip is eye-opening, and quite the experience for a small village boy like me who barely ever strayed a few miles from where I grew up.
	Mataa is a vast and varied country.  We leave the deserts for more fertile country within the first week, travel through mountainous areas that rise up more than I knew the land could, and eventually near monsoon lands, where I am absolutely awestruck by how green the world can become.  
	But the coast. . . the coast is more beautiful than I ever imagined in my wildest dreams.  We stand on a bluff overlooking the port of Chanvanasi, our final destination here on this continent.  The water seems to spread forever in all directions in front of us, glittering in the mid-afternoon sun.  I have never seen so much water in my life.  I didn’t realize there was this much in the entire world, and there’s so much still that I can’t see.
	It reminds me of looking up into the stars.  One feels so small, you could disappear right where you stand.  In the vast expanse before me, it feels like whatever I do with my life, it’s as insignificant to this world as the insects are beneath my feet.
	But there’s also freedom in that.  In a world this big, my failures seem just as insignificant.  It’s oddly peaceful to feel so unimportant.
	The city that stretches out beneath us is larger even than the last one we were in.  But still smaller than the Eastern Hyronses, where I grew up.  And here, no one knows us.  There are no Sura.  There will be other Clans, other hunters and dangers.  But here for a while, we can be strangers.
	Ahsan’s words from long ago come back to me now, stronger than ever.  This is the precipice.  From here on out, we have a real chance at freedom somewhere else.  We could leave our country, leave all who know us, and collars or no, try to make our lives in the world beyond.  Outside of Mataa, the Clans have no influence.  We could escape them.
	But that would mean leaving behind all of our responsibilities, and our own people.  Leaving them to their fates, and living forever with the knowledge that we had something, a very important piece of equipment that could potentially set countless amounts of people free. . . but we chose our own personal freedom above that.
	And it would mean leaving my family behind, too.
	I’m sure many servants have done it.  There are probably people all over the world wearing collars, in countries that don’t understand what they mean.  People who’ve fled captivity for a chance at something better in a foreign land, which could be equally as dangerous in other ways.  Not to mention having to learn another tongue, facing discrimination for not belonging to their cultures, the dangers of sea and travel. . . .
	Still.  It’s seductive to think of the possibilities.  And I know it’s what’s going through everyone else’s mind as we all stand there, staring out at the sea.
	“We have to find a ship,” Lavanya says.  “The islands shouldn’t be far off the coast from here, but we’ll need to get through two different ports with collars on.  Won’t be easy.”
	“We can do it,” Ahsan says.
	“Of course we fucking can,” Raja snorts.  “We’ve come this far.  Just one more short hop.  And this time no camels.”
	He begins making his way down the bluff at that, and the others follow.  I stare after them, smiling a bit.
	Immoral, violent criminals or no. . . I have some good friends.

Chapter 9 – Inconspicuous
	If you’ve never had a child, it’s hard to really describe how tethered your heart can become to another person.  It’s a connection that runs deeper than emotion, even.  It’s instinctive, it’s primal.  It’s all of those things and the love you come to feel for them as you watch them grow.
	My son was a beautiful, fragile little child.  He was born early, always small for his age, and that only made the protective urge inside me burn all the brighter.  It was probably my undoing in the end.
	Ishaya was a flawed woman too, and we definitely both had our share of abusive behavior towards one another.  Hers was more verbal, more demeaning than aggressive, but it hurt all the same.
	But all of our problems aside, I never doubted that she loved our son from the core of her being.  It wasn’t that she was a bad mother.  We just disagreed on how to raise Amon, and what to do with our future.  And his.
	Knowing that she’d only contracted herself was the greatest comfort I’d gotten out of finding that ledger.  She was still the woman I remembered, even after she’d left.  And I had no doubt that wherever she was, she was still with him, still protecting him.
	She might try to protect him from me, if I found them.  But if I even made it that far, I’d be happy enough.  I’d be glad to be some part of my son’s life at this point, even if I had to do so from a distance.  I was willing to accept just about any outcome, so long as I knew where he was, and knew he was alive and well.  I’d become a criminal, after all.  At this point Amon might be better off staying with his mother, even if she were still indentured.  
	But in the world the Clans create for indentured servants, the worst often happens.  And I have to be sure.  I have to know he’s not in danger.

	Chavanasi is like many a bustling port city.  An eclectic tapestry of color and activity when viewed from afar, bright and promising.  But up close, there’s dirt in every crevice of the pastel veneer.
	Here at least, there’s less concern that we won’t fit in.  The port is full of foreign ships that we can catch hints of from many breaks in the skyline of the city, especially since some of them have masts taller than any building here.  There’s the usual scattering of Huudari people, hyenas of course, rodents and canines, lions and other felines.  But there are so many different foreign creatures here, I can’t keep track.  Felines, canines and foxes that are unlike any in Mataa, rodents and mustelids of all shapes and sizes.  Creatures with thick fur that must be sweltering in this climate, fur that’s all white, or all black.  I can’t imagine what kinds of worlds they must come from.
	Overwhelmingly, the Dog Lords and the peoples from the north country are most predominant.  There are a few major trade routes that directly follow the coastlines down from their country into ours, and the war, if anything, only mixed our cultures together more.  
The scent of canine is probably the strongest in the air, (other than the curry vendors).  Dogs are a very varied people, ranging from tall to squat, bulky to lean, with every color pelt you can imagine.  I’ve never seen a race of people with such variation.  Jackals will vary in pelt color or eye color sometimes, but you could always identify us as a jackal, you know?  Some of the dogs have completely different muzzles, let alone body-types.
One way I find very quickly to pick them out is their garb.  The Dog Lords seem to favor more fitted clothing than Huudari people do.  Much of it looks troublesome to make, with crisp lines and a lot of buttons and flourishes, like the small neck scarfs they seem so fond of.  It all looks terribly uncomfortable, especially in the heat and humidity here.
That’s not to say that I don’t catch a few of them that are more adapted to the area.  There were even women at Sigfried’s place that were wearing sarees.  
Here, I’m not seeing many women who aren’t locals.  Most traders are men, and unless they intend to settle, they don’t bring their families with them.  But that’s not always the case.  We pass a dancing troop of langur with a few females amongst their lot who are putting on what even I have to admit is a very energetic, entertaining show.  There’s a sizable crowd, mostly comprised of foreigners, gathered about to watch them as they dance, undulating their lean figures and jangling their jewelry in time with an older male langur playing a set of drums.  
“The kabobs that vendor’s selling smell amazing,” Raja says, gesturing to a sloth bear selling roasted meat right next to where the langurs are playing and dancing.
Lavanya rolls her eyes.  “You are so transparent.”
“They do smell amazing,” Anala agrees, tugging out her small leather coin purse, where she’s keeping what remains of our stolen currency.  “And I’ve got the coin, so we eat where I say.” 
I smirk and fall in behind Lavanya as the group heads towards the kabob vendor.  I lean in to whisper to her, “But it has nothing at all to do with the dancers, right?”
Lavanya snorts.  “Clearly.  What was I thinking?” 
Ahsan just makes a haughty noise.  “They’re not even that good,” he says, feigning snobbishness.
We all chuckle, and head over to get some meat.  Which is, in fact, as good as it smells.  So I can’t say I mind.  We enjoy the show for a while, and Anala tosses the women a little extra coin.  We managed to break down our highly valuable gold along the route here into more manageable coinage, to avoid suspicion whenever we have to pay for something.  I’ll admit, when it comes to gold and other really valuable currency, I have no real understanding of what it amounts to other than ‘a lot’.  But Anala has assured me that what she stole from the Contract Office would have probably been enough to buy out several of our contracts in their entirety, so we shouldn’t be running dry any time soon.
It’s amazing to think about how something so small, so easily lost, something that can fit into a pouch you can stow in your palm, can mean so much.  My whole life, before I was contracted and after, would have been entirely changed by less than what’s in that pouch right now.  It’s not hard to understand why so many lower caste and poor resort to theft and crime.  Living without enough can just as easily ruin your life, drive your father to drink and beat on his family, become a wedge between a married couple, and in the end, mean the difference between slavery and freedom.  The penalties for committing crimes aren’t even as bad as all that, a lot of the time.
It shouldn’t be this way.  If I’ve come to believe anything wholeheartedly throughout all of this, it’s that.  Now, I’m not a complete simpleton.  I understand that places like this city only exist, only thrive because of commerce and coin.  I believe a man should have to work to get by, sure.  I understand the value of earning your keep.  But something’s broken in the world when so much of the wealth’s in the hands of so few. 
	I’ve made some truly awful mistakes in the past, and I can’t say I agree with some of the things we’ve done as a group even more recently.  But the fact is, I was made a criminal. . . not born one.  And people like Ahsan, even Lavanya, would never have committed a crime in their entire lives if they’d had better options available to them.
	We press on into the city towards the ports.  Our rat guide had taken off once we’d made it to the outskirts, promising us that he’d meet us near some bar at the waterfront called the ‘Bootlegger’.  I had no idea what the word meant, it sounded foreign.  He insisted he had some family there who might be able to help us find a ship, but that he had some ‘business’ to do in the city first.
	I’m at a loss what it was he had to head off to do on his own, but I’m sure it was exactly as shady as it sounds.
	 “You are paying him, aren’t you?”  Lavanya asks curiously after we parted ways with Ermingild.
	“Of course I am,” Anala replies, dryly.
	“That’s comforting, honestly,” the lioness sighs.  “I know it’s been months, but I. . . .”
	“Still don’t entirely trust the rat, hnh?”  Raja smirks.
	“I believe his heart’s in the right place,” she says.  “But we’re so close to leaving the country now.  We really need to find the right ship.  It’s not a decision we should take lightly.”
	“If he doesn’t deliver, we’ll find one ourselves,” Anala says confidently.  “Coin is the universal language in a place like this.”
	“I’d be careful about flashing it around,” I caution, my eyes following a small pack of dholes, jackals and a fox or two who are crowding an alleyway, watching the street like vultures.  They aren’t even bothering to cover that they’re armed.  Likely a gang.  “Place like this, there are a lot of thieves about more practiced than we are.”
	Anala just snorts.  “Two months herding camels and goats.  I’d welcome some excitement right now.”
	As we draw closer to the waterfront, I begin to smell something all new to me. . . the sea.  I’ve never smelled anything like it, so it’s hard to compare it to anything I know.  There’s the scent of fish, of course, but most of that is coming from the vendors and fishing vessels, I’d imagine.  There’s a tang in the air that tickles my nose and reminds me of the salt flats in the desert, but combined with the humid air that comes with fresh rain.  The distant roar and crash of the waves breeching on the docks, ships and shoreline is an ever-present, all-encompassing blanket of sound, not unlike the trill of insects was at the oasis.  But there is no tranquility here.  This is a place of constant change, where even the borders of the land change by the hour.  
	I had to have Anala explain the concept of tides to me.  I’ve always known of the existence of oceans, and that they rose and fell somehow in time with the moon, but I never realized it happened every day, or how anyone could adjust to that and make their living here.  The desert I grew up in was a very unchanging place.  Rains were scarce, and when they came it was a time of bounty, but they were fleeting.  The land around the Hyronses has been, for the most part, the same since I was a child.  Save the river level dropping in some seasons, and that happened very slowly. 
	Here, the people must contend with monsoons, and daily changes in where the ocean will rise and fall to.  The world here moves so fast, and I can’t help but feel a sense of foreboding about it.  I’m not sure I’m ready to contend with a world that changes this quickly.
	The quest to find my family has already changed me so much in a short span of time.  By the time I find them, will I even be the same man?  Is it better that I not be?
	Anala points out one of the ramshackle structures along the docks, with a leaning, crumbling porch on one side and a raucous-sounding interior.  The sign is written in a foreign language (not that it would matter, but I recognize at least that it’s not Huudari) but she still seems certain it’s our destination.  So, bracing ourselves, we head in.
	We pass a cackling group of drunken fishermen who smell like their work on the way in.  Otters, I think, although I’ve only ever seen a few along the Hyronses.  These look different than the ones I saw in the past, but then everything here is strange and new.  They seem more focused on a joke, (or story?) one of them is still telling than us.
	Once we push open the flimsy door to the inside, the noise becomes so overwhelming, both Ahsan and I have to tip our ears back.  The place is a madhouse, packed with a whole lot of different peoples who combine that ‘ocean’ smell from outside with a lot of damp fur smell and body odor.  And a whole lot more I can’t and would never attempt to identify.  It’s like if you took everything that smells awful about a workhouse and got it wet, let it fester for a while in damp clothing, then threw in some dead fish and bad booze just for flavor.
	“Ugh,” Anala growls, shoulder-shoving her way past a particularly dense cluster of canines to make way for the rest of us to get through.  One of the dogs barks, (quite literally) something at us that sounds unflattering, then gets back to his drink and conversation.
	“The rat could have picked a better location for a clandestine meeting,” Anala says, irately.  
	“We’re going to have a hard time finding him in here,” I add, wrinkling my nose as we pass a rodent of some kind who’s passed out against the wall, and clearly relieved himself in his pants either before or after doing so.       
	“Then we’re doing this ourselves,” Anala proclaims, in a way that’s worrisome.  She shoves aside the unconscious rat with her foot, and pulls out the chair at the table nearest him with a squawk, planting herself in the seat and gesturing to us.
	“There’s a reason no one’s taken this table,” I mutter as I sit, trying to put some distance between myself and the. . . smell.  To no avail, of course.
	“I like the idea of sitting,” Lavanya says dryly, sweeping her tail to the side of the chair as she does so.  “My ass is getting raw from all the paws it’s had on it the last few minutes.”
	“Mine, too,” Ahsan mutters.
	I give the both of them a sympathetic look, and we all get as settled as we can at the small, crowded table.  Before long, a stout boar pulls up alongside us with a rag in one hand and a serving tray of empty tankards in the other.  When they speak, I’m shocked to hear a vaguely feminine voice.  Beneath the apron, it’d been hard to tell.
	“What’re you having?”  She asks in accented Huudari.  It’s hard to tell what accent, though.  But then, it’s highly possible this place just has its own dialect entirely.
	“We’re looking to find passage to the Shanivaar,” Anala says outright.  “Could you recommend a Captain?”
	The boar just gives her an odd look.  “If yer takin’ up a table, yer ordering something.”
	“Look here,” Anala begins to growl, but Lavanya coolly cuts her off.
	“Whatever you’d recommend,” Lavanya says.  “I’m sure you know what’s best here.”
	The boar literally rolls her eyes, and turns with a hip sway I didn’t catch the first time she made her way here. 
	“I’m not drinking their swill,” Anala snarls, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest.
	“I will,” Raja says completely un-ironically, his blue eyes sweeping the place over with a comfortable expression.  “I like this place.”
	“How.  Could you possibly?”  Ahsan asks in a muffled voice, two hands firmly over his muzzle to keep the smell out.
	“Just look around,” the cheetah shrugs, doing just that.  His voice gets distant for a few moments.  “These people are free.”
	I digest what he said.  I can’t deny the truth in his words.  The men here are disgusting, loud, lewd working men, clearly all low caste or whatever the foreign equivalent of that is, but no one here is collared.  No Clan would trust a servant anywhere near a place with so many ships and avenues of escape.  We’ve actually seen very few since I got here, and most were out on the fringes of the city.  I doubt their owners let them wander far.
	The boar returns with a tray of now filled tankards. . . hopefully washed, but I’m not holding my breath.  She begins setting them down in front of us, and as she leans her bulky frame over the table near Anala, she murmurs, “Vixen by the bar.  The one in tooled leather.  She’s who y’lot want to be talking to.  Don’t go takin’ them collared folks ‘round any old crew, or you’re like to get shipped back where you came from.”  She deposits the last tankard at that, then holds out a palm to Anala.
	“Oh,” the hyena pauses, then fishes in her coin purse, and deposits what seems to me to be far too much coinage for some bad booze into her hand.  The boar looks it over with a scrutinizing glance, then at length, seems satisfied and moves off.
	“Kadar,” Anala says, standing.
	“Right,” I join her.
	“Oh Gods, don’t leave us here,” Ahsan pleads from between his palms.
	“Raja, keep an eye out,” I say back at the cheetah as we move off.
	We head towards the bar, which is if possible even louder and even more crowded than the area with tables.  Despite that, the vixen is easy to pick out.  She’s female, for one, which is uncommon in this place.  She’s also being given a wide berth, perhaps because of the dual pistols on her hips.  She’s far from the waifish slip I was expecting of a vixen, but she also looks to be a foreigner, so for all I know, her curvaceous figure is normal for women where she comes from.  Her fur is rusty red in color save her black-tipped ears and lighter throat, and her ears aren’t nearly as large as a fennec’s. 
	She seems to be expecting us when we approach, her honey-colored gaze on us the whole while.  As we draw nearer, she snaps at a black-coated figure beside her who turns to regard us as well.  The small. . . cat, it seems. . . is wearing a tricorn made for someone far beyond his size, so it’s hard to make out much about him beneath it save that he’s golden and spotted, and possessing a particularly enormous set of ears that, like his hat, seem oversized for someone of his size.
	“You’re looking to sail to Shanivaar?”  The woman asks, leaning back against the bar and showing off her more than ample cleavage.  Considering her surroundings, she must have some nerve on her, or else is just looking for an excuse to use those pistols.
	“Yes,” Anala replies before I can.  “Have you a vessel?”
	“I’m first mate of the Inconspicuous,” she says, showing off her thin fangs as she smiles.  
	Anala starts laughing at that, and I’m not sure why.  The name sounded foreign to me.  I continue to not get the joke, when the small man beside her speaks up.  “Get on with it, Elizabeth,” he growls irately.  “We need to set sail before the weather from the north moves in.”
	“I was told you’ve got quite a few contracts to move,” the vixen says, glancing past us through the throngs of men towards the direction of our table.  “And I’m guessing you can’t use legal channels if you’re here.”
	“Obviously,” Anala says.
	“The third island in the chain is the only one fully colonized,” the vixen says, glancing to the short man beside her, who is appraising us now as well.  I can’t for the life of me figure out what kind of creature he is, but he most resembles a spotted cat with a longer muzzle.  He’s easily half the size of a leopard or a cheetah, though.  His feet dangle off the bar stool.
	He’s not giving me a particularly friendly vibe, despite apparently knowing the vixen and likely being a part of her crew or some kind of comrade.  The vixen, he called her ‘Elizabeth’, must be in charge of brokering their deals.  She’s certainly the gregarious sort, unlike the glaring small creature beside her.
	“We’re destined for the island the Immar Clan has taken up residence on,” Anala says, using the information Ahsan got off the ledger that listed whom my family had been sold to.  
	Elizabeth nods.  “That’s the one.  But if you don’t mind my saying so, why not just board one of their vessels if you’re bringing them more. . .” she pauses, looking my way and then apparently deciding she doesn’t care, “. . . stock?  Plenty of their ships have been moving people through this port for the last few years.”
	Anala sighs.  “Can I just pay you enough to not care?”
	The vixen smirks.  “Always,” she says.  “We’ve even got some false barrels we can hide ‘em away in, if you need them to get past the ports without a collar check.”
	“Not sure that’ll be necessary. . . yet,” Anala says uncertainly.  “But we’ll keep it in mind.”
	“You might want to,” the curvaceous fox cautions.  “These island communities, they aren’t like the big cities.  The air’s different there, the Shanivaar makes people more dangerous, more desperate.  Only the most vicious Clans risk ventures out there.  Most of these little operations pop up and fail after the first monsoon, you know.  This place. . . the two Clans that’ve stuck it out there. . . they’re tough salts.  It’s a tiny little city stranded in the middle of the ocean, and it’s all theirs.  Captain Owo and I don’t risk much time landlocked there,” she gestures to the small, spotted man.
	The little creature turns to regard us, his expression as sour as it was when we first arrived.  “And we won’t this time, either.  We don’t need to know your business there, but how long’s it going to take you?  Do you need a return trip?”
	Anala and I look to one another.  “Yes,” I answer after a few moments.  “Although I’m. . . not sure how long what we have to do there is going to take.”
	“You’re the Captain?”  Anala asks.
	“Captain Owoduni to you, miss,” he corrects her, not seeming at all intimidated by the War Priestess, which is saying something even when she’s not snarling and barreling down on you with a sword.  He holds up a hand with three fingers up.  “Three days.  My frigate will wait exactly three days for you.  We’re full to the gills with cargo bound for Carvecian shores, and I don’t mind taking on a little extra work if the price is right,” he stresses that point, “but I’m not risking running afoul of the squalls that come down from the north this time of year.  We can’t dawdle long in that port.”
	“Is it far?”  I ask.
	“Half a day from here in our quick little gal,” the vixen assures us.  “And we’ve got enough cargo we can unload there to make the most of a few days, but again, price better be right if we’re takin’ you lot along.  Especially if you’re hinky.”
	“I’m sure you’re used to that,” Anala says with an edge of sarcasm in her voice.  “You must be confident in your ability to avoid suspicion with a name like that.”
	“Oh, y’like that?”  The vixen chuckles.  “We do almost all our trade here in Huudari waters, and to most of the Clans it’s just another foreign name they can’t pronounce.  Owo and I get a real kick outta it.”
	“Well,” Anala sighs, going for her coin purse.  “To business, then-“
	The vixen’s hand snaps out to grab hers, and I see her bristle and stiffen.  I’m briefly afraid she’s about to draw her sword, before the fox says in a quiet tone, “You don’t do business in here, lass.  Unless you want to get jumped on the way out, yeah?”
	Anala grinds her teeth.  “I would welcome it at this p-“
	“Okay,” I say, standing and putting my hands on Anala’s shoulders from behind.  She stiffens first, then seems to realize I mean it to be comforting and just looks annoyed.  “We should get going.  Where can we meet you, miss?”
	“At our ship,” Elizabeth replies, reaching over and grabbing for her tankard.  “Crew’s readying her now, so you’re in luck.  We sail tomorrow morning.  You can’t miss her.  Blue accents across the bow, elephant figurehead. ”
	“Sounds. . . inconspicuous,” Anala says, in a dry tone that I’m now certain is sarcasm.
	 The vixen winks.  “Now you’re gettin’ it.”

	We eventually find Ermingild, nearly an hour later.  Apparently his ‘business’ had taken him longer than expected.  When we tell him we managed to arrange our own trip and who with, his reaction is. . . mixed.
	“I’ve heard of them,” he says, rubbing his chin.  “But only in passing.  Reseller, mostly.”  He blinks, then clarifies, “And by that, of course, I mean smuggler.  Their operation moves things mostly back and forth between Mataa and Carvecia. . . primarily drugs and other goods the Western Continent has to pay obscene taxes on.  They’re good at getting things out beneath the Clans’ noses.”
	“Well that’s exactly what we need,” I point out.  “So, good find?”
	“I don’t know them as well as I’d like,” the rat says, then looks up at us.  “But time is an object, yes?  The vessel I would have recommended does not leave for several weeks.  They’re waiting on a caravan to return.  So this might be a better option.  When will you return?”  He pauses.  “Will you return?”
	“Why?”  Raja demands, as ever being the first to voice his suspicion.  “Your help’s gone way past just sticking it to the Clans, at this point.  You followed us across the country and now you’re asking when we’ll be back.  I want to know why.  It can’t just be the bit of silver this one’s been giving you,” he jerks a thumb in Anala’s direction.
	The rat sighs.  “You have me,” he admits.  
	We all wait, braced, after that.  I’ve been worried for a long time that the rat’s help has come with strings attached.
	“Do you know how many of my kind are indentured in this city?”  The rat asks.  “Surely you passed many of them on the outskirts.”
	“Far less than in most cities,” Anala says.
	“And yet still, dozens,” Ermingild says quietly.  His nose twitches and he stares out towards the skyline.  “I know what you stole from the Sura Compound.”
	A lot of our ears go up at that, and Raja looks ready to go at the rat.  I put a hand on his chest, then look down at Ermingild.
	“How?”  I ask, simply.
	“I saw it in your room,” he replies matter-of-factly.  “And since then, traveling with you.  It has a very distinctive handle.”
	“You recognized it?”  Ahsan asks, disbelievingly.
	“So you know which tool it is?”  Lavanya demands.
	At this point we’d narrowed it down to three.  We. . . were pretty sure, anyway.  But a lot of them looked so similar.
	The rat seems confused.  “You don’t?”  He asks.
	“How do you know what it looks like?”  Lavanya presses.
	Ermingild unclasps his cloak, and tugs it over one shoulder, baring his neck.  And there along his nape, I see something I’ve only ever seen once before.  A rubbed-raw spot in his fur, where something clearly used to lay.
	“You’ve had yours cut off,” I say, knowingly.  The only other time in my life I’ve seen something similar was on Lochan.
	“I went about it the hard way,” the rat says, slowly putting his cloak back on.  “But not all of my kin are as able.”  He looks around suddenly, then back at us, dropping his voice.  “There are many of us.  In this city.  Some like me who can move about uncollared, and many who still bear the burden of a contract.  But all of us yearn for one thing. . . freedom.  You hold that promise in your hands.”
	“We still don’t know how to use it,” Ahsan admits.
	“You have half the field conquered, at least,” the rat says.  “That’s farther than most have gotten.  With time, and perhaps some luck, we could learn how to solve the other half.  And I’d say we’re due some luck, wouldn’t you?”
	“We’re going to the Shanivaar,” Anala says, firmly.  “One of us has family there.”
	“Then I wish you luck,” Ermingild says, looking amongst us plaintively.  “But I also beg you. . . please return.  And be sure that tool does not fall into the Clans’ hands again.  There are so many who need it.  And so many who would follow you, simply because you have it.”
	“We can’t know what will happen,” Ahsan says, uncertainly.  
	“I think we all know the importance of what we carry,” I look to the faces of my comrades, then back to the rat, “but. . . thank you.  Thank you for reminding us.  We’ll do everything in our power to ensure it returns to the mainland, and the people here who need it.”
	“We’ll be waiting,” Ermingild says.  “Mataa will be waiting.  Please come back.  You carry hope in your arms.”

	Our guide’s message was on my mind all night, and haunted my sleep.  I’d always considered this quest I was on to find my family as selfish, when it came to dragging my comrades through hell.  But they’d long since confirmed that they were with me, understood me, and wanted to help me.
	But were there more people I was betraying, by focusing entirely on my own kin?  We had a key that could potentially unlock so many lives.  And I was literally taking it off into the ocean, to a lone speck of an island, to free one, possibly two people.
	By now, I was past the point of no return.  But I was still questioning myself late into the night.  Uncertain, foreboding dreams filled my every hour, waking me in a cold sweat.  I could hear the ocean, moving constantly, changing, always changing, everything rushing and ebbing and moving so fast.  Crashing, crashing, crashing.  I dreamt I was caught in the waters, inexorably being dragged out to sea, it was all happening so quickly and I was powerless to stop it.
	And just moments before, I’d had my feet firmly planted on land, and everything had seemed so hopeful and promising.  Mataa was behind me.  The worst was behind me.
	My soul rushed across the ocean, towards this place I knew only as a few lines of indecipherable text in a ledger.  The very place my wife had wanted us to go to together, so long ago.  As a family, chasing a better future, for us and for our son.
	If I’d only gone with her.
	If I’d only given up on my stubborn pride, my cowardice and fears of the unknown, and gone with her.
	If I’d only gone with her.  With my. . . son.
	The island is there in my dreams, a verdant dot of green on an endless blue plain.  I fly across the ocean towards it, the clouds lifting around me, the ocean rushing beneath me.  I can see him there, standing in a field of flowers.  Red flowers.
	I’m only dreaming of the Divine because I worked the Plantation, I remind myself.  Aren’t I?
	I can almost make him out amongst the tossing waves of green and red.  His golden fur.  His eyes. . . one the color of his mother’s. . . one the color of mine.  He’s older now.  He smiles at me.  
	And then, I’m choking.  My breath leaves me all at once and the hard, unyielding pain of something digs into my throat-
	I wake turned into my collar, the metal not quite as tight against my neck as it had been in my dream, but enough that I have to sit up and suck in an enormous breath, and feel the air moving in and out of my lungs.
	Ahsan doesn’t wake, but I hear him stir beside me, tightening the arm he has around my midsection.  Slowly, I slip back down beside him and settle in close against him.  We’re sleeping on a woven straw mat again, like on the Plantation.  It’s all the rooming house we’re staying at had to offer.
	For some reason, it’s comforting.  It reminds me of the nights we got to know one another, and I first realized it was alright to take comfort in his presence.
	I wrap my arm around him as well, and bury my muzzle against his neck.  I remind myself again and again that it was just a dream, that the fear I’m still feeling, the pain I’m still imagining, is not real.
	I lie close to Ahsan, and tell myself that for the rest of the night.  But I can still hear the ocean, beckoning to me.  

	The Inconspicuous is a large ship by any reckoning, but certainly not the largest at port.  Still, to an inland man like me, it’s a breathtaking sight.  I’ve never even seen a vessel with one mast, let alone three.  We follow a few men carrying crates up onto the main deck, and for a while, we’re all simply lost, watching the flurry of activity taking place.
	Eventually, thankfully, we’re lead below decks. . . far below, as it turns out. . . to where we’ll be staying for the short trip.  It hadn’t been terribly hard to make it on to the vessel past the Clan guards that patrolled the docks here, with Anala by our side.  They hadn’t even asked for papers, just waved us on by.  
	The vixen assures us it will not be like that when we make it to Shanivaar, and gives us a preview of how we’ll be making it off the ship.  It’s innovative, really.  They’ve designed several large pickling barrels (or at least that’s definitely what they smell like) with a false top that can be packed with just about anything, while someone hides in the main portion of the barrel beneath. 
	Elizabeth explains that they usually use fish, since the smell overwhelms the scent of anyone hiding inside.  Which makes me wonder how often, and why, they’ve had to employ these in the past.
	Thankfully, we don’t have to get into the barrels until we make it to the island.  Which apparently won’t take long, it isn’t far off the coast.  Elizabeth says the weather’s even favorable right now, so we should make it there by the afternoon.  
	The Captain, whom I’ve learned by now is a type of cat from Northern Mataa called a ‘Serval’, comes down to join us as we’re getting settled in.  He looks as ill-spirited as ever, and somehow manages to be intimidating as he walks past us all, despite only coming up to my mid-chest.
	“Mind yourselves,” he warns us.  “We weren’t exactly prepared to take on living cargo down here, so it won’t be comfortable, but this’s where you’re staying in case we’re boarded.  In the event that happens,” he stomps the ground suddenly, and one of the planks beneath his feet clatters, “false boards here.  There’s a small crawlspace beneath that you’d all better be able to fit into, if you want to live.  Because if the Clans find you here, you’re stowaways, got it?  I don’t know you.”
	He holds up a hand, and three fingers, once again.  “Three days,” he repeats, “and that includes the day we get to port.  Whatever trouble you’re making there, be quick about it, and don’t expect us to get involved.  This is business, pure and simple.  You aren’t our responsibility.”
	His little tail thrashes, and I catch Raja smirking out of the corner of my eye.  The small cat has all of our lives in his hands, so I’m not nearly as amused by his antics.  All I can do is hope we chose the right ship.

	The voyage is unpleasant, in that none of us have ever been on a ship before and nearly all of us suffer from some form of seasickness, but I’ll spare the details.  It’s also pretty uneventful save that, especially since we can’t come above decks.  Honestly, given the nature of my nightmares the night before, I’m thankful for that.
	We aren’t even able to watch as we approach the island.  All we get is a warning from above, followed by a lot of sounds of activity after the men sight land in the distance.  I’m left to imagine what that must look like.  The voyage of a ‘stowaway’ is not terribly scenic.
	The second warning comes with a boarish shout from the vixen.  “Barrels, folks!”  She yells down.  “Port’s bustlin’ today.  You’re not gonna casually stroll past that many guards, trust me.”
	“How long do we have?”  Anala asks, being the fittest amongst us.  Apparently she’s been on a ship or two before, and she’s also got a good constitution, so she’s been relatively fine.
	“Half an hour at most,” the vixen says.  “Then we start unloading.  You’ll want to be packed in by then.  Save you, lass,” she nods to Anala.  “Those barrels are headed for one of the dockside storehouses.  You can meet them there.”
	Anala looks to all of us, and hefts her pack.  “I’m going to head up, then,” she says.
	“You’re going to help pack us into these damned things, is what you mean,” I mutter.
	“. . . that does seem wise,” she agrees.
	“Everyone?”
	She and I, and Lavanya and Raja, all turn to see Ahsan standing over one of our packs.  A very important one.  
	“Oh. . . .” Lavanya murmurs.
	“I’m not sure we should bring it,” Ahsan says quietly, looking down at the carefully bundled tools.  Ermingild’s words ring through my mind.
	“Considering we’re headed right back into Clan territory,” Raja says, scratching at his neck ruff, “the hyena might have a point.”
	“If something happens. . . .” Ahsan trails off, then sighs.  “I don’t know.  I’m not sure they’re any safer here.  What do you all think?”
	Silence reigns amongst our small group.  All eyes rest on the bundle, humbly wrapped in old, weathered camel hide.  I can feel the weight of this decision pressing down on all of us.
	“We shouldn’t take it on the island,” I say at length, gaining the attention of everyone.  “This place is a small community, right?  Small is good for some things. . . finding someone, for one, and I’m counting on that.  But it could also be a lot more dangerous.  We can’t get lost in a city like we did when we fled the Sura Compound.  If we end up needing to go on the run again, we don’t want to have to worry about losing or misplacing the tools.”
	“But are they safe here?”  Lavanya asks.
	“We’ll hide them,” Ahsan says suddenly, toeing his way across the floor for a few moments before he stomps on one of the hollow boards the Captain had pointed out to us.
	“Yeah,” I agree.  “That’ll do.”
	“They know that spot,” Lavanya points out.  “You don’t think they’ll check it?”
	“Captain said it was for hiding people,” I say.  “I’m willing to bet they have other areas they’re not telling us about for contraband.  I don’t think they’ll be searching it here in port, and even if they do, to most people it’s just a dusty old bag of odd tools.”
	“It’s a risk,” Anala says, helping Ahsan pry up the board.  “But less of one than it would be to take them back into Clan territory.”
	I nod at that.   “We don’t know how to use them yet,” I say, “although now at least we know which one is the breaker. . . but if we get my family off this island, it’ll have to be with their collars on.  We don’t have time to figure this thing out in a matter of days.”
	Ermingild had been good enough to finally make clear to us which tool was used for physically breaking the collars.  It had in fact been one of the three we’d narrowed down, but not the one I’d have chosen.  It was smaller than most of the others, and had some kind of gem-lined edge in the small section meant for cutting.  The whole thing was blackened from the forge so we hadn’t noticed the gem edge.  Anala had called them ‘diamonds’.
	I watched Lavanya carefully set the bundled tools down, knowing everything they represented.  If the worst happened, those tools were our legacy. . . the only impact on the world we’d leave behind after all of our struggles this past year, and for many of us, our entire lives.
	Raja’s lifelong defiance, Lavanya’s will to survive, Anala’s war, Ahsan’s hope for freedom, and my oath as a father.     
	Everything we’d fought and bled for.  Hidden away in the belly of this frigate, waiting for us to bring it back home, and start a revolution.