Private Tales Of Sand & Dragonfire

[Seteta]

Chaceledon was so quiet and still next to her that Seteta didn't notice him at first, but when he spoke, she startled slightly. While her pulse returned to a normal rate, she watched him carry the beetle to the window, then welcomed him with a smile as he returned to her side. She gave a quiet, contented hum when he kissed her, then worked to shift her legs off the side of the bed without crumpling and wrinkling her gown too much.

“I’m ready. The Silent Court was curious about my divorce; news has reached Castigare. We’re going to have to make a trip down there at some point to sort out citizenship records...there hasn’t been a divorce between the living and the dead for a long time. I think they want to make sure I keep all the secrets of hell.” he smirked and grasped her hand to help her rise with the heavy clothing.

"Castigare?" she asked as he helped her up, and she steadied herself on her feet, then waited patiently as he fixed her hair.

“When I was forced to marry Oor I got de facto citizenship. The Volkers have always had it. Now that we’re divorced it’s just...paperwork I suppose.”

"Why would Rheinhard's citizenship be in question, then?" she asked, looping her arm through his again as they headed out of the room. "The Volkers were connected to Oor long before you were, correct?"

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

“Castigare, the fae city of the dead. We are all ivory and to ivory we return. They worship the cycle of decay and rebirth. The afterlife really isn’t as gloomy of a place people are led to believe it is.” Chaceledon told her as he fixed her hair. “While it’s mainly me in question, they could be nervous about Rheinhard assassinating a mesial lord. Oor has standing there, so it’s understandable they’d want to prevent some conflict between the living and the dead. Nothing to worry about.”

Chaceledon guided her down the stairs, and walked quietly with her to the arches. He wasn’t sure how he felt about all this, but Seteta was right. It would embarrass Oor and send a message to Peridot that he was alive. He did cast an eye around the assembled crowd, but no tall woman with green eyes greeted him. There were no dragons in attendance here. He took her in front of the crowd and kissed her hand respectfully. Was he part of this play, or did she need him to bow out? He put some distance between them, respectful of the art she was about to perform.

He wasn’t about to settle on the dusty sandstone, anyway.

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

Chaceledon's answers about the Silent Court only raised more questions for her, but Seteta set those aside. He didn't seem overly concerned about the issue right now, and so she would focus on the performance.

As they walked through the city streets again, Seteta waved and called out to faces she recognized from earlier in the day, many of them the children she had entertained. Some of them would duck shyly back behind their parents and peek out a moment later. Others would jump and wave and shout. Nearly all of them tugged at parent's hands or skirts and pleaded to go see the storyteller.

By the time the left Maraan's gates and reached the arches just outside the city, Seteta smiled to hear the quiet murmur of a small crowd following behind them.

As Chaceledon led her to the front of the gathered crowd, the arches framing her from behind, she scanned the faces present, smiling gently when her dragon kissed her hand then stepped to the side. Many of those gathered had brought blankets and refreshments, and there were even a few vendors roaming through the crowd. She would not be asking for money or goods tonight with her performance, though. Only that people talked of it to everyone they met.

Seteta spotted the pet from Chaceledon's estate in the crowd, and recognized several of the others around her, as well as the one who had run that stall. Their innkeeper was there, and the cook as well, and she smiled warmly and nodded to them. She bit her lip, brow furrowing for just a moment, looking for her relatives.

She almost frowned, disappointment settling over her, but then she heard her name called over the crowd. She broke into a wide grin as she spotted Kahi and Anai pushing their way through the crowd, and Supti following behind them, looking more than a little weary as he carried a bundle of blankets and a basket of food.

As they broke through the front of the crowd, Seteta quickly darted forward with a glad cry, throwing her arms around the two women. Like her and most Abtati, they had caramel eyes, bronzed skin, and dark hair. Kahi's hair, though, showed streaks of silver peeking out from beneath her purple headscarf. Anai had foregone a scarf completely tonight, and wore her hair loose with glittering beads woven through it. Kahi's face showed the slightest of wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. They both wore abaya and leggings similar to how Seteta was first garbed back in Fal'Addas when she first met Chaceledon.

"I hoped you would be able to make it," Seteta said as she pulled away, kissing each woman on the cheek. "Are you well? Both of you?"

"We are just fine, little one," Kahi smiled, returning Seteta's kiss.

"Very fine," Anai confirmed, squeezing Seteta's wrist gently as their embrace parted. "Though we have much to talk about, both you and us, I believe." Anai's eyes were sparkling, and Seteta eyed her curiously for a moment.

Supti came up then, panting just a little under the effort of the things he was carrying and weaving through the throng that was still gathering. Seteta smiled at him, though she didn't dare offer to help should Chaceledon scold her for risking her nails. She had probably already tried his patience enough by hugging and kissing Kahi and Anai.

She turned to Chaceledon, then, and waved him over. When he stood by her side, she reached over and took her hand in his. "Chaceledon, this is Kahi and Anai," she nodded toward each respective woman.

"Kahi, Anai," she said, a soft blush coloring her face, "This is Chaceledon. He is sehejib."

A shriek escaped Anai, and Seteta was almost tackled again. "Supti said you had someone for us to meet, but I didn't expect it to be this! What--when--how?!"

Kahi, on the other hand, smiled kindly, and addressed Chaceledon directly. "Is the Common tongue easier for you? You must have truly won Seteta over, for her to call you sehejib. I look forward to getting to know you more as we travel together."

"You'll learn much of the story tonight," Seteta answered Anai, carefully holding the flailing woman back so her outfit would not get mussed. "But he'll not appreciate it if you ruin the hard work he put into my appearance."

Anai calmed then, and ran her gaze over Seteta from head to foot. "He did this?"

Seteta simply nodded and smiled, and then turned her attention back to Chaceledon. Supti was finishing spreading out the blankets. "You are welcome to sit with us while Seteta's does her show," Supti said when he straightened up.

Seteta looked back at the crowd, which was beginning to settle, a quiet hush spreading over the sands. "It's almost time," she said.

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Well, her advertising seemed to be more than effective. Chaceledon carefully wove her through the crowd, keeping an eye out for any grubby hands. While people appreciated a good story, he’d constructed a visage of wealth that would be tempting to an opportunistic pickpocket. Or maybe he had been away from society too long, to think so ill of everyone. He found the crowd a bit overwhelming...why did he miss his quiet room in Witherhold all of a sudden? The idea repulsed him and he shoved it away. He was a social bird, no silent wallflower!

Seteta led him to the front of the crowd, where he lifted his chin and did his best to look above everyone. The best way to avoid eye contact without looking like you were. Supti and his wife soon made an appearance, and it took everything in Chaceledon not to wince when she flung her arms around them. Well, thank the gods he had restrained himself from lip paint or she’d look like a nameday clown with all the kissing...

He took his place at Seteta‘s side. The shrieking! Good lord. Women were the same in every species it seemed. Kahi was a bit more...polite about it. “I’m learning your tongue, but Common will do.” he told her in Abtati. A hush was falling over the crowd, and Chaceledon still recognized an entrance when he saw one. “Head up, weight over your feet. Float, don’t walk.” he whispered to her, and gestured to the front of the crowd.

The dragon nodded to Supti, and looked at the offered blanket. Some dirty horse blanket no doubt, but had any of this trip been clean? He carefully folded the extra fabric toward his inner thighs, crossed his ankles, and sat in a singular fluid movement. That, at least, he still remembered. He was far too nervous to engage in chit chat...this was his life she was about to speak of. He couldn’t even preen over the younger wife’s admiration of his work. It wasn’t his best, and he was destitute besides...

His eyes scanned the crowd, half afraid of Klaus emerging from the shadows and piking her in the spine. Or Oor showing up and tearing her in half. No sign of either, and a quick glance at the rooftops told him no prowler was there. They seemed to be safe. But were they?

Gods, if his mother heard this. The entire point was to let her know he was alive and anger Oor, but what would Peridot think?

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

Seteta rolled her eyes, but pulled Chaceledon down for a quick kiss. "I know how to walk," she whispered teasingly. "Now, be nice to my family. I'll see you afterward."

As she stepped to the front of the crowd, she glanced over at Chaceledon and her family one last time before she began. He looked... so nervous. Nervous enough that she almost stepped back into the crowd to comfort him, but the gathered throng had fallen almost completely silent once she stood before them.

---

"Relax," Supti said quietly, clapping a hand on Chaceledon's shoulder as he plopped next to him on the blanket. despite Chaceledon's perusal of the blanket, it was not a dirty horse blanket. Rather, it was made of embroidered silk, though it was not the finest silk that Chaceledon was used to. "She's done this a hundred times before."

"Have you seen her perform yet?" Kahi asked as she and Anai pulled covered platters and dishes of food out of the basket they'd brought.

Once the food was arranged on the blanket--easy finger foods, for the most part--Anai reached in the basket for the last thing items: a wineskin and a stack of small wooden cups. "Date wine?" the younger Abtati asked, counting off four cups from the stack and putting the rest back in the basket.

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Chaceledon’s eyes were on Seteta. He had every faith in her abilities; he would never have chosen a koiros who was weak. Seteta was strong, and no mere crowd would intimidate her now that she traded verbal warfare with dragons and the undead. She was in charge of this situation. No, it was the subject matter that frightened him. Every word out of her mouth, someone in his former community would hear. Her words could, quite literally, make or destroy him.
Or at least, make it extremely difficult not to become hedahn.

He didn’t quite appreciate the hand on his shoulder. Wonderful. Dust. He unconsciously brushed the fabric there with a hand, his eyes not leaving Seteta. Well, she had said he needed to be kind. Gods know what her family would think of hm after this. The tale she was about to weave was a black one full of suffering. Screams haunted that estate. Yarel’s desperate attempts to help Aron escape. Aron descending into alcoholism. Nestor’s cold compliance, and Lansom’s broken sense of self worth. Brade pining for the sea and Volta, knowing he’d never see the latter again. Klaus’ madness, crawling around the grounds like a living thing. Rheinhard’s quiet, stoic rotting from the inside.

His own scars, tears, screams. He shuddered, as if you shake the shadows away. “No, I haven’t seen her perform. I know she’ll do it well. It’s the tale that frightens me.” he said quietly. At least it would have a happy ending. For now.

For truly, Seteta had barely begun the prologue. They hadn’t even met his family. Dealt with Persian. Oor’s ties to...seemingly everything. Rheinhard’s leash was just as firmly clipped in as it ever was. No, they were at the base of a long and weary mountain.

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

As she stood in silence for a moment before the crowds, Seteta wondered if she should tell a couple short tales first. Familiar stories that even the children would know by heart. But she saw the tense set of Chaceledon's shoulders, the hesitant almost-dread in his eyes.

No, she thought. I will start that tale now. It's what everyone is here for, after all. I'm not drawing out the show to try and get as much coin from the crowd as possible. We simply want them to talk.

The story will be long enough on its own, anyway.

"I love you," she whispered, catching Chaceledon's eye. She knew he'd be able to hear her despite the distance between them. "Trust me."

Then she closed her eyes, tilted her head back, and began to slowly sway back and forth. She hummed softly, more for her own benefit than anything to do with the story she was about to tell, as she began to sweep her bare feet back and forth of the surface of the sand, reaching out with her magic. Only another geomancer would be able to tell, right now, that she was spreading tendrils of her magic out through the sand behind her.

She would need a lot of it for what she was about to try and do. The scenes she was going to try and show.

A cloud of sand began form around her feet and the hem of her skirt. As her hands swayed at her side, she reached down. Once the sand rose high enough for her fingertips to brush against it, Seteta pulled the sand up. Her arms rose until they were stretched out to each side, and behind her, the sandy floor of the desert exploded into the air, obscuring the sight of the arches.

Eyes still closed--since her illusions worked by making the audience see what she saw, what she imagined--her voice lifted to float over the crowd.

"Once upon a time, a very, very long time ago--longer ago than even your grandmother's grandmother's grandmother was alive--there was a beautiful dragon."

Behind her, the sand took a familiar shape: Chaceledon, in his dragon form, complete in resplendent color. Not a single scar marred his form, nor were any claws missing. He soared through the air, twirling and twisting, spewing flame through the sky.

"This was not a dragon as we think of them now. This was a creature of magnificence, and grace, and pride. They had such great pride, though, that they looked down on almost every other creature which existed."

Now the image shifted again, the dragon shrinking, taking human-like form.

"These dragons--him and all his kind--could shapeshift. And they were magnificent in all their forms, taking great pride in their appearance, sometimes even starving themselves to look a certain way."

There was a gasp that rippled through the crowd there. Starvation was not new to desert folk, but willing starvation was something they never encountered. You ate when there was food, lest you go hungry later.

"But the greatest danger in their pride was believing that no one would dare to enslave them."

The sand-scene shifted again. Instead of a funeral, though, Seteta set the tragic scene at a simple party. Chaceledon was on one side, clearly imbibing and flirting with anything that walked by him. Oor stood opposite him, clothed in shadow, watching and waiting.

"So great was this dragon's pride that he thought he could mock the undead, and get away with it."

---

Supti watched Chaceledon closely, taking a cup of date wine from Anai with a soft smile, and pressing it into the dragon's hand. Kahi and Anai settled back to watch, arm-in-arm. They didn't want to miss a second of Seteta's illustrated story.

Supti, though, thought that Chaceledon might need distracting from time to time.

"She is... telling not just the story of how you two met, but your story, correct?" the older Abtati mentioned after watching the first few minutes of Seteta's performance. "She said yesterday that reaching Annuakat was a matter of life and death, but not for either of you. Tell me truthfully now, please. Are either of you--both of you--in danger, because of what she's doing right now?"

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Chaceledon watched with rapt attention. She was right, and truthful, in everything she said. Watching himself swirl in the sky with not a blemish, with his claws, made shame rise in his chest. How foolish and arrogant could a creature be? He’d fallen right into a trap without even seeing. Worse; pretending he was immune to it. He looked at Seteta’s family nervously. The gasp at dragons’ diets had already caused some pull of judgement from the crowd. Did they feel the same?

Thankfully Supti was there to distract him. He had to answer honestly. He looked at the elf, biting his lip. “Yes.” he said quietly. “The wraith has already captured her once. If he hears this tale it will anger him greatly, but there is also a chance my parents will hear it. Even a wraith can’t stand against an entire dahn.”

Chaceledon scanned the crowd again. No sign of Rheinhard. No sign of Oor. Maybe this would go well. He pulled his hair down and over one shoulder, braiding it nervously. “Oor will be replacing Rheinhard as soon as he can. They’re most likely in Annuakat. If that happens, I lose my son.”

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

"On a thoughtless whim, the dragon seduced the wraith. The wraith, however, was not so thoughtless. He had long craved power, and what greater power could he gain than by bringing a prideful dragon to heel?"

The scene shifted again, this time to show Oor within Witherhold. There was a boy before him, but the boy's features were inscrutable.

"The wraith had already brought an entire family to heel. A line of sons, raised to his specifications, and each new son, upon the death of his father, inheriting not just the knowledge of all his forefathers... but their souls as well."

In the sand-scene, Oor reached out with a bony hand as if to touch the boy's forehead, but instead, his fingers stabbed through the boy's skull. In that moment, the boy crumbled into sand, but instead of falling to the ground, it swept through the air, and the scene shifted again, this time to the inside of the Well. But not the Well as it usually was. This was the Well as it had been when Seteta and Chaceledon entered it in Vel Anir. Hundreds of souls wrestling for control. Each face distinct. Unique.

The choice was deliberate, on Seteta's part. An attempt to garner disgust for Oor's meddling, and compassion for Rheinhard's plight.

A few moments later, the scene shifted back to Oor and the boy in Witherhold. Then, in barely the time it took for a breath, the boy transformed into a man with the visage of Rheinhard.

Seteta heard a few gasps in the crowd then again. Clearly, some there knew him, or had seen him before.

"After all," she continued, shifting the scene once more back to the party, where Chaceledon sauntered over to Oor before the two of them vanished into a room together, "if the wraith could control the lives, deaths, and afterlives of an entire family, then why shouldn't he have a dragon too?"

---

Supti fell quiet for a little while then, watching the story, and pondering Chaceledon's words. Kahi and Anai had certainly overheard as well, and were beginning to realize the connections between Seteta's words, and Chaceledon's.

"She is humiliating this wraith intentionally, correct?" Supti murmured a little while later. He knew Seteta's style, and the way she was wording and constructing this story made it obvious. "You're gambling that his reputation will start to crumble, and that your parents will come to your rescue, and somehow all in time to save this Rheinhard."

Supti sighed, tipping his head back to look up at the first glimmering stars in the fading dusk, his thoughts whirling.

"Are there any precautions we can take, to guard against this wraith?" he asked.

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Chaceledon watched the scene, as he had witnessed so many times before. At the moment Oor looked like a powerful and clever lord, but no doubt as Seteta continued the tale he’d be exposed for the evil and greedy bastard he was. He looked at Supti, and took a deep breath. This was going to be harder to explain.

“Wraiths are what is born when you die, and your soul is pinned to the wrong body. They are creatures of shadow. They are deterred by the sound of rushing water. To kill one, you have to find where it’s soul is pinned. In thousands of years of trying...I’ve never found Oor’s. If he comes, we are better off running. Seteta and I have fought him, but we cannot kill or seriously injure him...he’d only pass it on to Rheinhard.”

Chaceledon gave Supti a hard look. “She’s doing a damn fine job of humiliating him, but Seteta and I aren’t planning on relying on my parents alone. I’m just not strong enough to protect us right now.” He’d never admit it was because of his body, and what he did to maintain his figure. “The sooner we get to Annuakat and free Rheinhard, the sooner we can kill the wraith and be done.”

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

"And thus, in seducing the wraith, the dragon was enslaved," Seteta continued.

The scene shifted again as the door shut behind Chaceledon and Oor. Now the audience saw a sleeping Chaceledon, encased in ice, being snuck out of the party on a cart. In truth, Seteta had no idea how Oor had taken Chaceledon away from the manor. But for the purpose of the story, of portraying a condensed version of the events in a way these people would understand, this would suffice.

"Dragons have a weakness, you see," she said, her voice sad. "If they are made cold--and kept cold--they can be subdued. And so, for 17,000 years, this dragon vanished..."

The next several scenes were the hardest ones for Seteta, and if anyone looked closely at her face, they would see tears slipping down her face as she spoke.

Chaceledon following meekly at Oor's side, blood dripping from his fingers as he held onto a boy's hand. One of the numerous Volkers he had mothered. Chaceledon slaving over wedding robes as Oor watched. A marriage with forced vows, a knife held to Chaceledon's ribs. Once again, she did not know how it had played out for certain, but the image had to be clear for the audience.

"For 17,000 years, the dragon was enslaved, secreted away in the wraith's underground manor," she said quietly. "His claws removed, forbidden from contacting his family or going anywhere near the desert, he languished without most of his magic, and without his fire. His only comfort was mothering the children that the wraith would give to him from time to time, the ones the wraith would breed for his experiment.

"From time to time, the wraith would give the dragon some semblance of freedom. Skilled at forging and gemsetting, the wraith would have been a fool not to take advantage of the dragon's assets. Each time he went aboveground, he pleaded for help, for someone to stand up to the wraith, to guide him back to the warm sands... but no one listened.

"Until, one day, this dragon met an Abtati..."

---

Supti stayed silent for a while once more, watching Seteta's story unfold. He was certain there was much she wasn't saying, but he could question her--and this dragon--later, over the next several days.

Anai, though, sighed wistfully, and turned a dreamy gaze Chaceledon's direction. "She rescued you, didn't she?" the younger Abtati grinned. "How romantic!"

Anai didn't know much of the Common tongue yet, though she knew enough to follow along both with Supti and Chaceledon's conversation, and with Seteta's story. She would nudge Kahi for translations for time to time during the storytelling.

Supti gave Anai a fond smile, though he rolled his eyes slightly, then turned back to Chaceledon. "Do not assume that you're alone in this. Besides myself, Seteta has some formidable people in her family. Her grandmother, for one. Once we have you safely to Annuakat, I'll take care of reaching out to the rest of her family. It will take some time, though. Many of them dispersed to different tribes after their oases dried up."

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

As she told more of the tale, Chaceledon watched deep in memory. Not out of the party on a cart, but drunk and on his arm flirtatiously giggling like it was all a massive joke. Waggling fingers goodbye to friends either disgusted by the concept of sleeping with a wraith or admiring his bravery...friends he would never see again. He swallowed thickly at her depiction of his declawing. Nestor gathering up his blood on paper and holding it to a light until it caught and flared.

Anai exclaimed about how romantic it all was, and a soft smile graced his features. “You never know how much you miss light until she grasps you by the hand and pulls you against her.” He told her in Abtati. He was a little more formal with Supti. “I don’t want to put your family in danger. I don’t know the extent of Oor’s ties but I do know he has an ally in Persian de Soto. The Lord of Luck as well, though I don’t know how much Rosebury would be willing to fight for him. These aren’t another tribe, Supti, but old and powerful Fae. If one of Seteta’s few family members died because of me I couldn’t bear it.”

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

Anai giggled. "So she's your light?" the Abtati commmented with a smirk, then turned her attention back to the tale.

Kahi was still silent, but she watched Chaceledon a little more closely now. Anai was still relatively young for an Abtati. While desert life was harsh in general, some hardships and trauma were not always doled out the same ways. Anai had been spared many of them, thank Abtatu, but it seemed... Chaceledon had not.

Supti listened attentively as Chaceledon answered him, and couldn't hold back a grimace.

"Our tribe--well, our former tribe--has had some... encounters with Persian de Soto in the past, several generations ago. Seteta does not know that whole story yet, though, so I'll refrain from telling it until I can speak with both of you at once."

Supti paused for a moment there, considering the rest of what Chaceledon had said, and how to respond. "The Fae do not meddle in the affairs of the desert quite so often as they did when you last lived here, I believe," he said at last. "We hear stories of them, but do not see their meddling works firsthand so very often, not like in the past."

For a moment, the look in his eyes became grim. "Besides, the Abtati reigned these sands once, long ago, and some still bear true to those ancient bloodlines. Even the fae would be fools to come against those who command the very earth beneath their feet."

Supti met Chaceledon's gaze unflinchingly then. "But on the matter of family... do you love her?"

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Chaceledon nodded to Anai, and let her enjoy the story. He got the sense she was a little naive...this story was dark, and showed a side of his suffering he had never been public about. It didn’t inspire pity but rather a girlish sense of romance, of being rescued. He knew many young dragons with such fantasies. It seemed even in the desert it was possible to be sheltered from the evils of the world.

Supti’s comments interested him. Persian had a nasty habit of taking Abtati men and women for his own purposes, and he was keenly aware of the Desert Amber project...a breeding line specifically for geomancy. He quietly kept that to himself, and just nodded. He was guilty of helping De Soto begin that project, over a wine-soaked conversation many many years ago. A mere suggestion had quite possibly shattered tribes. He cleared his throat.

“Perhaps you’re right, about the fae. Even so I don’t consider Rosebury an enemy, and he may help us yet. Just be cautious.” he said quietly. “I do love Seteta. Deeply. I have had my fill of flings and social season relationships. Seteta is something different altogether. I can see myself making robes for her.”

He looked over the crowd again, and noticed one of the servants as she turned to speak to someone. A teal flash of scales under her chin. He blinked, and sat up straight. She wasn’t with the slaver. Maybe one of the dragon families was here? Perhaps slumming it out of boredom? He looked around, but no one so tall was in attendance. He found himself watching the girl. Teal. What house was that? Not the pale green of springtime that was his mother’s colors. It tugged at him. A small and distant memory.

He looked back at Supti. “Her story might be working faster than we thought.”
Seteta

 

[Seteta]

Supti nodded, graciously accepting Chaceledon's advice. While he was certain Chaceledon was his elder by many, many thousands of years of Seteta's story so far was truth, the dragon was in a relationship with his younger cousin, and that gave him a little more leeway than if he was addressing him otherwise.

Regardless, as Chaceledon spoke of his feelings for Seteta, Supti could see the sincerity behind his words.

"I do not know how it was among your kind," Supti said, clapping a hand on Chaceledon's back, "but among us, even if you two do not marry, the fact that she has called you sehejib makes her family your own. We would fight to the death to defend her if she asked for aid. We will do no less for you.

"So if this wraith, or any of his fae friends, come after you or her, and if--if--it were to cost any of us our lives, it is not your fault. It is the fault of those who attack."

Supti had noticed Chaceledon's occasional inspection of the crowd. Supti himself had, in all honestly, been keeping a close eye on those nearby as well, though he didn't know completely what to watch for anymore, now that he had heard part of the story Seteta was telling.

Someone had caught Chaceledon's eye this time, though, and Supti subtly looked in that direction, eyes landing on the servant girl with the glint of teal at her throat.

He looked back at Supti. “Her story might be working faster than we thought.”

"Someone you know?" Supti asked quietly.

---

Seteta's mood lightened as she moved onto the part of the story where she and Chaceledon met. The beginning of their courtship. Some things she skipped--like Gaal razing the town--but others were important, like her first encounter with Klaus, and her own first visit in the Well with Rheinhard's ancestors.

She skipped Vel Anir entirely, though. It was too messy, and would not help their cause in this moment.

She told of the swamp trolls, and making amends for ruining the spawning pools. She skipped the pet house, and her first encounter with Oor. Instead, she was simply taken by him as they neared the desert.

She skipped Persian's presence, but left in the moment when Oor had taunted her with the memory of Chaceledon's pain.

And, most importantly, their confrontation over 'dinner' in Chaceledon's chambers.

Word for word, only omitting names. They wanted rumors to spread, not accusations, and the important players in this plan would know of whom she spoke.

"Having nothing is temporary.

"I've had nothing several times in my life. When I met him, I had my knife and the clothes on my back. While you may have provided him with everything, you also deprived him of the single thing that gave him the most worth and joy: his magic.

"If you had wooed him, properly, according to the customs that you earlier claimed I knew nothing about, then perhaps even despite the questionable consent of your... initial encounter, you would have found a mate loyal to you above all else, without having to quench or control his fire."

She sat tall then, and met the wraith's gaze without flinching. Her arms rested at her sides, and without glancing down, she subtly extended the fingers on one hand to press against the granite floor. She didn't need to pull on the magic. She just needed to touch it. To sense what the magic sensed, and see if wraith spoke truth that her lover was coming for her.

Her words, hopefully, would provide the distraction so he didn't notice, if he was even capable of doing so.

"By all the customs of the desert, you have tried to lay claim to him and failed. You have not provided for his needs, you have weakened him, you have raped him, and you have tricked him. Even the cruelest slave masters in the desert do not need to resort to all of those things to keep their property in line.

"But worst of all, you do all those things and claim him as husband.

"Your claim is void," Seteta said, and though her voice was soft, there was a power behind it that seemed to echo through the entire manor. Not a power that came from magic or any institution on earth, but the power of truth spoken into word. "You have had the chance to woo and win him, and you have failed. I claim the right of the dragon's consort and free him from your chains."

Her words would anger the wraith, and Seteta knew that she would not escape unscathed, but words did not have to be a magic spell to have power behind them.

"He is mine," she said. "By his own free will, and no bond you have laid on him is stronger than that."

Her voice rang out over the crowd, and then faded away as she fell silent for a few moments. The scenes etched in sand behind her, now glowing with light from the illusion magic as the last of the sun's rays faded from the sky, froze in stillness.

Her heart was pounding. She'd not yet told Chaceledon exactly what conspired within Witherhold, and she dared for a moment to open her eyes, and seek him out in the crowd.

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Chaceledon wasn’t so sure of Supti’s words. He didn’t want them to get hurt, and get hurt they would if they helped them too much. Supti was a kind man, and loyal to his family, but fae were another stripe of horrors altogether. One day, he would be frank about the type of such horrors. Seteta, perhaps wisely, omitted the stories of Gaal razing the town. The last thing he wanted was questions about one of his sons having an uneasy friendship with such a creature.

His eyes raked over the crowd again. There was the girl, giggling to someone. He couldn’t see exactly who. He didn’t know how to answer Supti’s question. He didn’t remember, and that thought scared him.

Seteta’s tale tugged his attention back to her. She hadn’t ever told him exactly what she had said to Oor, and recalling it now made fire burn in his chest for her. He knew she had been brave...but that bordered on suicidal. His eyes met hers, and he knew only adoration. How had he ever come across the one gemstone in the desert that should matter?

As silence reigned over the crowd, a figure stood up. He had short red hair, the color of the last flaming rays of the sun, and a smattering of freckles across his straight nose. His eyes were narrow, but bright with teal. A strong jaw melded quite well with surprisingly feminine lips. As all dragons were, he was tall. Six foot four, perhaps five. He dressed in a fashion Chaceledon didn’t recognize, but the shame crashed around his shoulders. He’d been so proud of Seteta’s look, not even thinking it was thousands of years out of date.

This man, shirtless with light jade pants and long jade claws, was probably more in the current trend. Dragons didn’t need to protect themselves from the sun, after all, so the dazzling array of turquoise tattoos across his body was in full display.

“Oh you are adorable in that ancient getup, little sharpear. Pray tell, what inspired this tale? Drawing in a group of saps with a story about an imprisoned dragon? Please.” The dragon called to her in a tone dripping with amusement, as though he’d just watched a convincing parody. Chaceledon knew him then. Nica.

“Why don’t you enlighten us as to...exactly where this dragon is? If he does claim you as you say. I think you’re just a silly girl hiding a pet collar, nothing more. Of course, these squawking chickens will believe anything more amusing than their drab little lives. Me? I don’t think you get to insult Dahn Peridot like that and walk away with your pretty face intact.” Nica’s eyes had grown hard.

Chaceledon stood up suddenly. Not here. Dear gods not here. He instantaneously regretted the move when those sharp little eyes turned on him. “Good god what is that? A salamander who’s raided some old harridan’s closet? Lucky for you that look might be coming back for this season. The whole...” Nica fanned his nails and looked up and down at Chaceledon. “...poverty stricken gecko look.”

The other dragon’s face split into a smile and he shoved his way through the crowd. Forcibly. Chaceledon was fairly certain he grabbed a woman’s face and practically threw her to the ground like an unsightly fence post. Nica threw his arms around Chaceledon, stifling him with a kiss. One leg hitched up around Chaceledon’s hip. “I think I had a claim longer than any little chuma.” Nica giggled, winding a piece of Chaceledon’s hair around his fingers. “You look ridiculous, koiros.”

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

As Chaceledon's gaze met hers, a soft smile crossed her lips. He was not angry. She saw, in the depth of his eyes, just a small amount of horror perhaps, and she knew that this conversation alone--if it circulated among Oor's peers--would do great damage to the wraith's reputation.

After a moment, she drew breath to resume the tale... and was interrupted. A man stood in the crowd, and now that she knew what to see, she recognized him as another dragon, but she did not think it was one of Chaceledon's dahn, especially as he began to speak.

She did not care when he insulted her outfit or used the Anirian slur. He was likely the only one here who knew if it was truly out of date or not.

“Why don’t you enlighten us as to...exactly where this dragon is? If he does claim you as you say. I think you’re just a silly girl hiding a pet collar, nothing more. Of course, these squawking chickens will believe anything more amusing than their drab little lives. Me? I don’t think you get to insult Dahn Peridot like that and walk away with your pretty face intact.” Nica’s eyes had grown hard.

As he spoke, she let the sand suspended in the air behind her fall to the ground. His accusations were simple enough to dispel, and she brought her hands to her throat, unlacing the ties there. She folded her collar down and tilted her head back, exposing her bare neck and the lack of dragon scales under her chin.

All that this dragon would see was the faintest teeth marks left behind on her throat, from their lovemaking the day before. A quiet murmur rippled through the crowd.

"Who are you to speak for Dahn Peridot?" Seteta asked, but Chaceledon was already standing, drawing this dragon's attention away.

But when this dragon insulted Chaceledon, fiery anger filled her veins.

And then--then--he dared to force his way through the crowd, and she didn't like the smile on his face. She saw Supti glance at her, and Seteta subtly shook her head. She could handle this.

Fury flashed through her eyes as the stranger dared to touch Chaceledon, to kiss him, and the earth itself answered her rage.

Tendrils of sand exploded from the ground amidst the crowd and lashed around Nica, pulling him off of her lover and restraining his hands and legs. He was knocked to the desert floor, and dragged to sprawl at her feet.

Her gaze was haughty as she stared down at him in contempt.

"I do not know what rock you've been hiding under, little lizard," she said. "But here in Amol-Kalit, it is rude to interrupt the storyteller. If you wish to know the right of my claim, then you had best finish hearing the tale."

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Chaceledon didn’t have time to do much more than fill his lungs to tell Nica exactly what had happened...before the other dragon was unceremoniously ripped off of him. Nica, unsurprisingly enough, looked just as angry as she did. The sand around his hands and legs grew sluggish, melting into glass around his limbs. “I think I’ve had more than enough of slack-jawed sluts for one day.” Nica snarled.

Chaceledon swore under his breath. The last thing she needed to do was start a war. Nica eyed him. They hadn’t seen each other in thousands of years and Nica still named him koiros? It was taking forever for his brain to catch up with his mouth, but he had faint memories of curling up in courtship with a shorter, teal dragon with a shocking red mane.

“Nica. Please. Just sit and listen.” He bade the other dragon. Nica freed one leg with an obstinate kick, flinging molten glass at the gathered crowd.

“As long as she understands this is all false. You’re mine, not hers. I’ve been looking for you.” the wounded tone and the way Nica sat in the sand, chin up and proudly avoiding him, almost gave Chaceledon pause. He carefully sat back down, though his back was tense. He remembered Nica having a temper, and a mouth. Snide, young, and too pretty for his own good. “Loathsome little sand rat. I’ll strip you bare and hang you from a chandelier.” Nica growled under his breath at Seteta.

Chaceledon swallowed thickly, and tried to catch Seteta’s eyes. People would be talking about this, but not for the reasons they needed if she didn’t end her tale. He wanted to talk with Nica....he wasn’t sure how the other would take it.

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

Seteta snorted as the teal-tattooed dragon called her a slut, the corner of her mouth quirking upwards for a moment. "If you wish to insult me, you'll have to do better than that," she stated, easily sending up a wall of sand to catch the molten glass he threw toward the crowd.

Nica, Chaceledon called him. At least she had a name now. And, at least, he sat back down.

“As long as she understands this is all false. You’re mine, not hers. I’ve been looking for you.”

Seteta raised a brow. "Simply because you do not like the story does not make it untrue," she said quietly, pity in her voice.

“Loathsome little sand rat. I’ll strip you bare and hang you from a chandelier.” Nica growled under his breath at Seteta.

Her mouth quirked again, daring him to try, but she said nothing further on that matter for now. The murmur of the crowd was growing loud, and Seteta returned her attention to them, though she didn't let herself become complacent to Nica's presence.

"Now, where was I?" she mused, resuming the story. She remembered, of course, but the crowd always appreciated a chance to interact.

"You'd just laid claim to the dragon!" a voice called out from the crowd, and Seteta smiled, recognizing the voice of the pet from the market.

"Ah, yes!" Seteta exclaimed, bringing her arms out again. The sand rose behind her, once more portraying the scene. Oor sat upon Chaceledon's bed, and she stood defiant before him.

"Now, what were the words...

"I claim the right of the dragon's consort and free him from your chains. He is mine by his own free will, and no bond you have laid on him is stronger than that."

And with that, the story began again, as the wraith struck Seteta across the face.

"The wraith had made a fatal mistake through all of this, though," her voice lifted over the crowd again. "For the Abtati was gifted in earth magic, and his home was built of stone, and sunk deep within the earth. For all the wraith's magic and spells to claim the house as his own, it would always answer first to this Abtati. In the wraith's anger, he lost control for just a moment.

"And in that moment, the house gave the Abtati what she needed to free the dragon from the wraith forever."

The sand-scene moved at her command, shifting and changing. It showed Oor departing, slamming the door behind him. Showed Seteta retrieving the marriage robes, and dumping them into the fire. Chaceledon's arrival, Rheinhard's resistance to Oor's commands in an effort to give the dragon and the elf time to escape.

Their declarations of love for each other.

The rest of the tale, while quick, dragged far too long for Seteta then, though. She was on edge now, but she'd given many performances where her nerves threatened to fail her, and so she didn't falter despite her desire to finish quickly and deal with the matter at hand.

Her hands burned and ached, but she didn't allow a hint of pain to cross her face. She was weary, but she didn't let that show either.

The crowd responded well as she told the tale of how they helped to save magic, of their parting from Rheinhard.

And then suddenly they'd reached the end, where they returned to Amol-Kalit, and entered Maraan.

With an exhale, she brought forth her final illusion.

Chaceledon in flight. Not over Maraan, but over the crowd, very nearly life-size. Her illusion magic combined with her geomancy allowed her to fly the dragon low enough over the crowd that one could reach up and touch it, and it would feel real. For the finale, the dragon looped through the twin arches, then turned back to spew a gust of flame--not real, completely cool--over the crowd, and then the illusion faded away and the sand fell back to the ground.

Seteta nearly swayed on her feet, but despite the interruption earlier, her gaze was triumphant as the crowd broke into applause and cheers.

---

Seteta's family had remained quiet after the debacle with Chaceledon's... former lover? That was the best guess Supti had. But they'd still gladly welcomed him back to sit with them, and kept his wine glass filled.

As the end of the performance neared, Kahi turned to Chaceledon.

"I'm sure you have things to take care of," she said, "but I trust you are aware of the toll Seteta pays for her illusion magic? Do not tarry long. She will need you."

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Nica looked increasingly enraged as the story continued, and shrugged off her shackles. He didn’t move to attack her again, but stood quietly, for which Chaceledon was grateful. His memories of his time before Oor were fuzzy and patchy at best. Plenty of anecdotal stories and snatches, but he couldn’t remember a specific timeline. He remembered Nica, but not what he’d done to inspire such loyalty. Nica looked young, as well...how old was he when they’d begun courting?

Chaceledon could see Seteta become tired as the story wore on. Her magic would come calling and he hadn’t had the good sense to give her some pain to help focus it. Agonizing her was against his nature. The crowd broke into applause as the sand dragon blew cool flames over them, and Chaceledon didn’t need to be bid to rise. He hadn’t touched a drop of his wine. He needed to be clear headed to help her, and sort Nica.

“Feeling faint?” Nica sneered. Chaceledon took her arm and eyed the younger dragon.

“Follow me, both of you, and keep quiet.” he growled the second at Nica. He didn’t dare bring the other dragon to Supti and his wives; Nica was as sharp tongued as he was. Instead he pulled them into an alleyway, and settled Seteta on the cleanest crate he could find. Even so, he wiped it with his sleeve anyway. “What can I do to help you?” he kissed her, causing a disgusted noise from Nica.

“Well since you’ve taken the trash back where she belongs-“ Chaceledon turned on him, and the insult died in his throat.

“Do you realize what you could have done? I am trying to return gracefully, you foolish creature! Leaping into my arms like that? What were you thinking? Seteta isn’t the one who acted like a child here.” Chaceledon’s voice wasn’t angry, or without control. It was freezing; cold as an Allirian winter.

“I haven’t seen you for a dragon’s age and I’m supposed to sit quietly?” Nica huffed.
Seteta

 

[Seteta]

Seteta leaned wearily into Chaceledon's touch, ignoring Nica's jibes. She knew, in a way, that she was seeing what Chaceledon might have been if his story had taken a different path, though she would never give Oor the credit of 'bettering' her dragon.

The pain was starting to flare in her hands, up her wrists and into her forearms. She had never done quite as intricate a story as this before, and without aid. Usually large performances like this were done by more than one illusionist.

She barely heard Chaceledon's words as she followed alongside him, Nica trailing behind. When they reached the alley, she smiled softly as he cleaned off a crate and sat her on it.

“What can I do to help you?” he kissed her, causing a disgusted noise from Nica.

She leaned into his kiss with a soft sigh, continuing to ignore Nica. "I'll be all right for a bit," she said, hiding her trembling hands in the folds of her robe. "Water and rest soon would be good, though. And..." she hesitated there, throwing a glance in Nica's direction. She had exerted herself quite a bit, though not in quite the same way as when Klaus had attacked her the first time. But she didn't want to say what she needed in front of him. It was too... personal.

Fortunately, she was saved from having to elaborate further as Chaceledon turned on Nica. Seteta leaned back tiredly against the clay wall. While she listened intently to everything passing between the two dragons, her gaze wandered out over the crowd again. Kahi and Anai were packing up their food, and speaking with various others in the crowd.

Supti, though, she didn't see him... Brow furrowing, she sat up straight again, and looked around, then startled slightly as Supti popped around the corner and after eyeing the dragons for a moment, her cousin came up and sat beside her.

"Are you still planning to leave with us at dawn?" he asked.

Seteta nodded. "Knowing Chaceledon, even this will not keep him from going to help Rheinhard. I haven't had a chance to speak with him about it yet, but I was thinking of having us come to spend the night at your tents instead of the inn. It will... be easier, in the morning."

Supti nodded as he stood, then leaned down and kissed Seteta's forehead. "You know how to find us."

"We'll see you in a little while, I hope," she murmured, and then he left. Seteta turned her attention back to Chaceledon and Nica.

She leaned back again, wincing her hands spasmed, but she made no attempt to draw attention to herself. She knew that... unfinished feelings with old lovers could be messy. While Nica had not impressed her so far, she felt some pity for him. He'd clearly not forgotten about Chaceledon despite all the years that had passed.

But Seteta was not willing to give him up.

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Chaceledon nearly jumped out of his skin seeing Supti. “Ghat, I thought you were Klaus! Don’t do that.” He muttered at Supti, but cast an eye toward Nica. The other dragon was looking at him oddly. Hurt, but...like someone had skinned Chaceledon and was wearing his face rather than the dragon he remembered. Chaceledon knew the feeling. How would he feel if he could look back in time and see himself walking out of that party? He’d been every inch the same as Nica; a spoiled child.

He needed to tend to Seteta. “Nica...could you call up water? Please? Clean water?” he asked. His former lover gave him a flabbergasted look. Chaceledon found a clay pot, blew flames into it to blast it clean, and held it out to Nica. “For me?”

Nica rolled his eyes, and a thin stream of clear water emerged from the mouth of the alley like a snake. It streamed into the pot, and Chaceledon took a cursory sip. He didn’t quite trust Nica not to channel it from the nearest latrine. Thankfully, it was clean, and he put it in Seteta’s hands. “Nica’s element is water...I...think most of his family does.” he explained. All dragons had some form of magic to do with heat, but Nica had shown pronounced skill with water and the sea. If he remembered right, Nica’s dahn had something to do with it.

“Did.” Nica corrected. “They’re dead now.” He lifted his chin, and switched to draconian. “What the devil was that back there? That story? I knew you left the party but I’ve been trying to find you ever since. Your own mother was convinced I was trying to elope with you. Here I find you calling this chuma koiros?”

“The story is true. Nica...you’re alone? You have no dahn?” He could understand the reaction then. If they had been killed how long had Nica waited for him to return to the desert? How long had he been on that empty estate with no mate? No children? Was it because of him? Nica looked down. So it was true. No family, but an estate and all the money in the world inherited from dead dragons. “Nica, who killed them? I know it was just you and your parents.” Seteta needed to hear this.

Nica had come from a small dahn that specialized in the ocean. Specifically luxury fish, pearls, and whale oil. His parents hadn’t been particularly strong, but they’d had good heads for business. Chaceledon could see an aspiring monster hunter making a kill.

“Anirans. My parents were searching for pearls with their boats off the coast. The Anirans shot them both down.” Nica said bitterly. “Is that why you don’t want me anymore?”

Chaceledon blinked, and before he knew it Nica took his shock for admission. His eyes filled with tears and he rubbed them away carefully. “Nica that is not why. I’m sorry that happened to you, but...I am in love with Seteta.” Chaceledon said quietly to him. “You can come with us to Annuakat. I’ll make sure you get back to Seaworth.”

“Don’t fucking bother. I made a mistake thinking you were the same person. Not some...shabby, ruined man with no claws. I’d be shamed to court you now. Funny, isn’t it? You were dating below your station. Now I wouldn’t look at you as anything but hedahn.” Nica shifted, becoming the long and beautiful turquoise Chaceledon remembered so well. Even that red mane was cut short...probably in mourning. Why hadn’t he realized that before? Chaceledon watched Nica stream upward into the sky, and sighed.

“I’m going to have to apologize to him.” he said softly, sitting next to Seteta on her crate and watching Nica twist through the sky.

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

Seteta bit her lip as Chaceledon asked his former lover to summon water for her, and she almost intervened, almost refused, but she also didn't want to make it seem that she was belittling Nica's... gift.

But when Nica said his dahn was dead, horrified sympathy began fill her. She would wager almost anything that they'd died not long after Chaceledon had disappeared... and finding Chaceledon had become Nica's obsession as he grieved.

She sipped at the water slowly, and sighed.

This was messy.

When Nica shifted and flew away, she gazed sadly at Chaceledon, then scooted over to allow him space on the crate next to her. Fortunately, it seemed to be a sturdy crate.

“I’m going to have to apologize to him.” he said softly, sitting next to Seteta on her crate and watching Nica twist through the sky.

"He's lonely," she said, leaning her head against Chaceledon's shoulder. "And he fixated on you in his grief over his family, looking forward to being reunited, only to discover that you've changed, and he doesn't know who you are anymore."

She snorted softly. "I am simply the insult on top of his injury. He doesn't understand how you would have come to love someone like me. How you could lower yourself so."

Seteta finished the water and set the makeshift cup aside.

"Not to cut the subject off," she said, "but I am going to be in... a significant amount of pain for the next couple of days. It shouldn't hinder our ability to travel, but for the sake of expediency, we should probably gather our things from the inn tonight and stay with my family at their tents."

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Chaceledon settled his head atop hers, and sighed. “For most dragons our entire worlds are our social lives. I never stepped foot in human cities without another dragon, and even then it was treated more like a zoo where the animals talked. Nica probably hasn’t spoken to many people...it looks like he’s managed to keep his estate intact, which is probably the only reason he’s not hedahn...” The more he thought about it, the more he disliked it. Alone, and with no parents to arrange a mate. No prospects, and his only boyfriend had left him for an elf. The shame Nica must be feeling...he kissed Seteta’s hair. “I may ask my mother to intervene on his behalf, and see if there’s a cousin willing to marry him. It would let him back into the social clubs. I...I don’t think he’s talked to another dragon in a long time.”

Dragons were very quick to not seem weak. Nica’s family had been small, with a single egg born to soft parents. Being on the outskirts it would have been so easy for letters and invites to just...stop coming. He wagered Nica’s social death had been just as slow as his own torture.

He was pulled out of his regrets by Seteta. He moved the pot so she wouldn’t break it, and put an arm around her waist. “Let’s gather our things then. I hope your relative has a halfway decent bed.” Ah, if only Nica hadn’t been so venomous. He did remember a bedroom with seed pearl curtains and baths made from gigantic shells. Well. He had his own estate, and he meant to get back to it as soon as he could prevent it being entirely dissolved.

Chaceledon stood and picked her up with him, touching his forehead to hers. “Let’s move our things so we can rest, koiros.”

Sadly they didn’t have much luggage. Just another set of Chaceledon’s robes, his bath things, and Seteta’s old clothing. Easily bundled up and carried with them to her family’s tents. The innkeeper he avoided eye contact with. After what had happened today, he couldn’t stand another argument. Especially with mediocre accommodations.

He did bend just outside their door. The tiny shrine was gone, and in its place the charm of a little golden bird. He carefully palmed it. “The Lord of Luck sees us.” he told Seteta. Hopefully that meant Rosebury was on their side. Not Oor’s.

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

Seteta sighed and frowned, slipping a hand into Chaceledon's despite the fiery ache within it. "Did he really wait almost 20,000 years to see if you would come back?" she murmured as Chaceledon kissed her hair. "I know... that the years do not pass the same for you dragons as it does for many of us, but even considering that it seems... excessive. Especially if you were not betrothed, only courting."

Gods, she hoped that Chaceledon and Nica had not been betrothed. But surely Chaceledon would not have forgotten something so vital.

She bit back yet more worry--fear, truly--when he mentioned speaking to his mother about arranging a match for Nica. Just as Nica had assumed that Chaceledon would still desire a relationship with him... Chaceledon seemed to assume that the dahns were all still thriving and intact. She hoped it was so, for his sake. But the sinking feeling in her gut said things had changed far more than he expected in the desert.

Chaceledon stood and picked her up with him, touching his forehead to hers. “Let’s move our things so we can rest, koiros.”

Seteta nuzzled her face into his for a moment, then settled her head on his shoulder again as he carried her back to the inn. She grimaced from time to time, her hands twitching in her lap.

He set her back on her feet outside the inn, and they walked in together, gathering their things. She caught just a brief glimpse of the golden bird he tucked away.

“The Lord of Luck sees us.” he told Seteta.

"Hopefully that's a good thing," she murmured.

She stopped in the kitchens on their way out, thanking the cook for her extra accommodations, and taking the last of what had been prepared especially for them that day. Chaceledon needed to eat a little more, but regardless... Seteta was famished after that performance. To herself, she vowed to send enough coin to cover the extra food and the damage done to the inn once she had acquired it.

It didn't take long for them to traverse the now-quiet city streets and head outside the gates again, to the area where the caravanners had their camps. There was a large fire in the center of the camps, and torch-lined pathways through the tents. Seteta led the way, and smiled when she caught sight of an embroidered banner displaying a blue lizard crawling up a sand dune.

"There," she said, nodding toward it. "That is the emblem of my tribe, before it dissolved. The Inizae Abtati. We still use it to identify family."

The ducked inside the large tent, albeit... almost too short for Chaceledon's height, and she smiled wearily as she saw Supti, Kahi, and Anai waiting inside. Thick woven rugs covered the floor to protect their feet from the sand.

"Thank you for hosting us," she said graciously, bowing her head. "And thank you, Supti, for adjusting your plans to accommodate our need for haste."

"Welcome to our tent," Supti said as he rose, bowing his head in response. "Please be at rest. You are tired. Kahi will show you where to sleep."

"I'll visit with you in the morning," Seteta said, smiling at Anai, then followed as Kahi led her and Chaceledon to a far corner of the tent, partitioned off from the main area. Inside was a brazier to light the space and keep it warm as the desert cooled off for the night, and deep stack of fluffy blankets and pillows for their bed.

"Rest now, cousin," Kahi said, taking the few items that Seteta held, noting that they were food. "I know you are aching by now. I'll put the food on a tray, and bring it back soon."

Kahi spoke to Chaceledon then. "There is an empty trunk on the other side of the room for your possessions."

Then Kahi left them alone, and Seteta took a few weary steps to the bed and sat down.

"Will you help me undress?" she asked quietly, rolling her shoulders gently to stretch them out.

Chaceledon