Private Tales Of Sand & Dragonfire

[Seteta]

Seteta was just starting to stir when Chaceledon climbed back into their howdah, but didn't really wake up enough to do more than shift toward him as he made himself comfortable again. She felt the slightest breath of air against her cheek, and her eyes fluttered open just as his hand brushed a strand of hair out of her face.

“I think I made a mistake telling Kahi you spoke to Oor and Persian...” he muttered under his breath.

Between her lack of sleep and the pain, her mind was foggy and her thoughts dragged. She squinted against the bright afternoon light, trying to make sense of Chaceledon's mumblings that sounded more like the fussing of a bird in her ear.

"You spoke with Kahi?" she asked blearily as she stretched, wincing as her neck and back cracked and popped. "When?"

She was about to snuggle up next to Chaceledon and drift back to sleep, hopefully after she heard his answer, when someone came around with a freshly filled waterskin, and they had to exchange it for their nearly-depleted one. Seteta was brought thoroughly to wakefulness by that task, and by guiding Chaceledon to roll down the heavier curtain of the howdah on the westward side, to block out the worst of the harsh afternoon sun.

Seteta plopped down on the cushions again, sighing as she settled her hands carefully across her stomach. There wasn't quite enough room for her to stretch out fully, so her knees were bent, toes tucked up against the outer edge of the howdah.

She looked up at Chaceledon with a soft smile. "Lie down next to me, sehejib," she murmured softly. "Tell me what you've been up to while I slept."

She wouldn't turn down some more kisses, either.

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Chaceledon offered her the water and kissed her, smiling and rubbing his hands up and down her sides. “I gave what I was working on to Anai, and Kahi asked if you had left anything out of your story. And...she asked about Nica. She told me he deserved some sort of closure, and I was wrong to just...dismiss him like that.” he laid next to her and nibbled on a dried fig, thinking. He offered her a bit of jerky, feeling content and lazy. He ran a hand up and down her stomach, his lips finding hers. He knew she wasn’t quite up to lovemaking, but gazing into her eyes and kissing her was nearly as good.

It was fulfilling. He could sink into her, hands playing with her hair and lips touching hers. He sighed in pure and utter contentment. If she looked closely, smatterings of purple scales glittered on the bridge of his nose, cheekbones, and flanked his throat. “I told her about Gaal. Not Rheinhard’s involvement. Just that we’d seen him. She seemed upset you’d spoken to Persian, and was concerned about what you might have told him. I really didn’t think you’d open up to him on the first meeting.” he smirked. “Even if he is charming for a Fae.”

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

Seteta smiled, pressing lightly up into his kiss, then hummed in agreement as Chaceledon relayed what Kahi had said about Nica.

"You did say you owed him an apology," Seteta pointed out as she gingerly took hold of the jerky he held out for her, then growled in frustration as her fingers spasmed. She at least managed to not drop the jerky, and rested for a moment, letting his hand on her stomach soothe her, and then his kiss again a moment later.

"This is bothersome," she sighed when she started to gnaw at the jerky again, managing to almost drop it in her eye at one point. "Magic is stupid sometimes."

When she finally had her fill of the jerky--and her fill of attempting to eat the jerky--she handed it back to Chaceledon, and let herself sink back into the cushions again, nuzzling her face against his as he settled in beside her. Faint purple sparks glittered over his skin in the afternoon sunlight, and she smiled to see his scales starting to peek through. She wondered if, his human form would become more dragonlike, now that he was back in the desert.

She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his chin.

“I told her about Gaal. Not Rheinhard’s involvement. Just that we’d seen him. She seemed upset you’d spoken to Persian, and was concerned about what you might have told him. I really didn’t think you’d open up to him on the first meeting.” he smirked. “Even if he is charming for a Fae.”

Her brow wrinkled at his words. "Persian and I barely talked," she said with a shrug, "and it was mostly about the pet house. He did say something about my distinctive build but... I can't think of why Kahi would be worried."

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Chaceledon took the jerky from her gently and shredded it with his fingernails, cutting it neatly into long strips that he could feed her with. He smirked, teasingly feeding her like a baby bird. “Next time instead of primping I’ll grab a short staff, so you don’t have to suffer as much.” he teased playfully. He settled beside her happily and draped an arm over her hip, kissing her forehead. He snorted at Persian’s comment.

“Persian sizes up people like a man at a horse auction. Conformation, he calls it.
Like horsemen dithering about the length of a leg, or neck, or the slope of an animal’s back. He once told me I was rangy, like a colt that hadn’t filled out. But his day is filled with evaluating naked bodies and breeding lines of slaves. I don’t even think he realizes he does it anymore.” he rolled his eyes a bit and pulled her close to his chest. “If that’s all you said there’s no need for concern.” He thought for a moment. “Kennedi was there, wasn’t he? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him take a trip without him. Whatever you said to Kennedi also makes it’s way back to Persian’s ears. The man dotes on him.”

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

"You jest," Seteta murmured as she finally swallowed the last of the jerky, "but I'll hold you to it. You try having your hands feel like they're on fire for two days, with the nerves never burning away."

She wrinkled her nose a little as Chaceledon spoke of Persian, but huffed out a laugh when he said the slaver had called him 'rangy'.

"You could do with putting some meat on your bones," she stated, poking a knuckle into his ribs, despite the sparking pain it sent shooting into her wrist.

Seteta happily snuggled into his chest, though, carefully settling her hands between them where they wouldn't be jostled or squished. She hated how exhausting pain was. She wanted to take advantage of this quiet, private moment with Chaceledon... but her eyes already felt heavy again, and her mind was slowing.

“Kennedi was there, wasn’t he? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him take a trip without him. Whatever you said to Kennedi also makes it’s way back to Persian’s ears. The man dotes on him.”

"Mmhmm," she said, and tried to hold off the fog of sleep long enough to remember what she'd said to Kennedi.

"We... mostly talked about you," she said through a yawn. "And... I asked him to ask Persian to consider granting me a favor, if I escaped Oor. I was thinking of using it to help Rheinhard. Kennedi..." her voice faded off there, enough that Chaceledon might think she'd drifted back to sleep, but a few moments later she spoke again.

"He was trying very hard to get me to agree to putting on a collar," she said, her voice a little clearer than before. "And he suggested a... pairing, otherwise. I told him it wasn't possible for myself... and I made no promises, either way.

"It doesn't sit right with me," she continued quietly, "to barter Rheinhard like that, without his consent."

She shrugged, and tucked her head back into Chaceledon's chest. "Anyway, none of it matters if I don't actually ask Persian for a favor. I can't think of why Kahi might be upset..."

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Chaceledon gave a little noise of protest when she poked him in the ribs, and huffed. He pulled his hair over one shoulder and lifted his chin. “Just because dragons aren’t built like oxen youve all got the impression we’re starving fawns.” he muttered indignantly, but not without an affectionate kiss to her cheek. He did blink, and turned so he could hover over her and look at her directly, when she mentioned dealings with Persian. “Please tell me you didn’t promise a fae anything. Fae take promises and dealings very seriously.” It was little use, as it was clear she was fading into a nap. He sighed and cuddled up next to her, making an irritated note of how dull his skin was. It would only get worse. His hair, once a shining copper, would dull to a crispy orange. His violet eyes would start milking out to an unattractive periwinkle, and his pale skin would grow chalky.

His mind was a bit of a firestorm. Persian had tried to get her to wear a collar willingly, which meant he had some indication of her power with earth. To a man who ran a city made almost entirely of milled stone and metal, that was precious. No wonder he’d been breeding her kind. Perhaps he had some way to get around the bonding she’d mentioned? Or force it? Or he had his eyes on half-dragons. Surely not. The man was clever but he wasn’t suicidal.

Chaceledon sighed and napped away the hot part of the afternoon. When he woke up...he could barely see for the bleariness. His vision had gone dull and fuzzy, as though one of Seteta’s head wraps was around his eyes. He lifted himself into a sitting position and drug his fingers through his hair. He made a horrified, strangled noise as his glass nails simply fell off that hand. Oh ye gods. He curled up against her side with a sad whimper and put his robe over himself.

His body had clearly been waiting to be healthy enough for this. Normally he’d solve it with a bath of boiling oil and a good scrub in the sand. But no oil was to be found. Damned if he was going to scrub in dirty outdoor sand.
Seteta

 

[Seteta]

"I made no promises," Seteta swore as she drifted off to sleep again, "just an offer to talk if I left Witherhold alive or free."

She didn't stir again until the camel began to stand to continue on their journey, though she had a vague memory of Chaceledon tucking himself into her side with a whimper. Bracing her feet against the side of the howdah, she held onto Chaceledon as they rocked back and forth until the camel was standing once more.

She yawned, and noticed the light outside was not as harsh. Probably only a couple of hours till sunset, then, and maybe another hour or two of travel after that before they made camp for the night. Her stomach growled quietly.

"Chaceledon," she whispered, poking at his form that was covered with his coat, and eyeing the glass nails lying atop the cushions. "I'm hungry. Wake up."

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Chaceledon emerged from his nap. His hair was a dull orange, and frizzed as though he’d been struck by lightning. The silky curtain of long hair was gone, twisted into dry and dull straw. He blinked, and looked at her with eyes gone entirely milky. He rubbed at his face, and gathered up the glass nails. He threw them irritably into his pockets and pawed for her. Hungry. Ah, that he could solve. He found the packet of dried fruit and offered it to her, sitting up on his knees.

Then he touched his hair with a horrified gasp. No no no. It shouldn’t be this bad! He tried to run his fingers through it and came out with a hideously tangled mass. No! He slumped in the howdah, staring at his fingers and rubbing at his eyes. No no no!

Chaceledon threw the robe over himself like a shawl, and sniffled. “This is the worst I’ve ever seen it...” he mumbled miserably. He’d have to wait until they stopped. He was content to help her eat until then. He sneezed. Dragons shed the insides of their nostrils as well, and he could feel the uncomfortable dryness crawling up his nose.

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

Seteta took the fruit, adjusting to sit cross-legged over the cushions, and quietly watched as Chaceledon bemoaned his current state, trying to hide under his robe again. The fruit, at least, was easier to eat than the jerky. She just had to get it in her mouth and chew, not rip bites of it off.

"It has been almost 20 millennia since you last shed your skin. This is probably the worst it will ever be," she pointed out, then grinned. "And at least we're in a howdah and not an open saddle where everyone can see you."

She ate quietly for a few moments, silently amused at the thought of Chaceledon panicking about everyone in the caravan seeing him in his current state. Dragons wouldn't be nearly as intimidating anymore, she thought, if they knew as much as she did now.

"You should eat some jerky," she said when she swallowed the last bit of fruit she'd grabbed. "Growing new skin and scales must be hard work for your body. No wonder you passed out back at the inn."

Then a moment later, a little more gently, she asked, "Is there anything that can help make it more comfortable? Kahi or Anai probably have some oils or sugar scrubs."

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

“Oh thank the gods for Anai. Remind me to mix her up some skin cream if we see some agave plants or aloe.” He muttered, pawing at his hair. “How am I supposed to speak to Supti like this? I look like I’ve been on a Voltese lightning vessel!” He sniffled, and the weirdly robed ball of brown cloth with a dragon’s lower face quivered miserably. He didn’t want to eat. He wanted to bemoan his hair and dunk himself into an oasis. He scowled at her.

“What, so I can be fat and frizzy? You know, there are words in draconian for people who try to make their partners fat.” he snipped, a little harder than he meant to. A moment later he sighed heavily and rubbed his face, shuddering at his mutilated fingertips. They ended in scarred stubs, not the beautiful long nails. Nica had beautiful bone nails, harder than any mammal fingernail. True claws. Dragon-hardened glass was the closest he could come. Now look at them. Scars from being dragged along cobblestone and ripped out with pliers prepared in freezing water.

He tucked his hands under his armpits. Which, he noted, were getting rough. They didn’t grow hair there but they did grow scales. He needed to soften them. “I’m sorry. I just...don’t like feeling hideous. I know you’re only trying to help but unless there’s an oasis nearby...a private oasis... nothing will help.” he actually started to cry, sizzling tears burning the bottom of the howdah.

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

"I promise, I'm not trying to make you fat," Seteta sighed, reaching up to rub the spot between her eyes that was beginning to tense, then swearing softly as it reignited the dull ache of her hands into something sharp.

"Would you like to borrow my headscarf?" Seteta asked, completely serious. They wouldn't be emerging from the howdah again until after dark, at least, but the caravan was mostly Abtati and their night vision was... not poor. He could at least shield his hair with it.

As she quickly put out the smoldering spots on the cushions--Abtatu, that was going to be awkward to explain to Anai--she scrambled to think of someway to keep Chaceledon from setting the whole thing--herself and camel included--ablaze.

"We're still a couple of days out from Ragash," she said at last. "But there might be an oasis between here and there still. Supti will know for sure."

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

“Yes.” Chaceledon whimpered and rubbed at his cheeks. He knew she was trying to keep the howdah from going up in smoke. He sniffled and adjusted the cowl around his head. The oasis made him look up, nodding hopefully. He needed an oasis. A peaceful place he could soak himself and shed his skin properly. He took a deep breath and tried to keep himself straight.

He took her headscarf and wrapped his head up. He blinked away tears and kissed her hand. “Thank you love...when does Supti expect us? I need more preparation this time around.”

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

Seteta smiled comfortingly as she unwrapped her head scarf and handed it to him, holding back a wince as he kissed her hand. The pain was... not getting worse, but it wasn't beginning to fade yet, either. It would dull for a while, and then something--usually movement or touch--would make it flare. Hopefully, by morning, it would begin to lessen. By midday tomorrow, at the latest.

"It'll be a few hours yet," she answered, lying back down beside Chaceledon. If she could use her hands to hold on to the sides of the howdah as it swayed on the camel's back, it would have been easier to sit up, but the weariness and the pain was still overwhelming. "If Supti holds true to his prior habits, then he'll bring the caravan to a halt just as the last light of sunset is fading. The caravan leader's tent always goes up first, while the cook prepares the evening meal, so someone will fetch us then."

She patted the spot next to her. "Come lie down again, sehejib," she said. "Try to rest, and have some water and meat."

Seteta did her best to stay awake now, partly because she wanted to be able to sleep through the night, and even though the constant pain drained her energy, she knew too much sleep so close to nightfall would work against her later.

She tried to keep Chaceledon engaged in conversation, to keep his mind off his itching, dry skin. She told him stories of her fumblings early on, learning geomancy under Supti, and other anecdotes of her childhood. Time passed, some moments slowly and other moments quickly, and eventually the camel was kneeling down again, and Seteta was asking Chaceledon to help her out of the howdah.

"I need to stretch my legs for a bit," she said. "And maybe the cooling air will help sooth your skin a little."

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Chaceledon scratched, even though without his claws he wasn’t doing nearly the damage he would have. He listened to her...he was genuinely interested to hear how she had discovered her geomancy. What had led to her training and how she had mastered it. If he’d been told 18,000 years ago that he’d be admiring a woman weak as a kitten who needed pain to operate magic...he’d have laughed. Now he watched her, bleary eyes full of adoration and rapt attention.

When the caravan stopped, he uneasily helped her down and out. He kept the headscarf around him, shivering and putting his hands under his armpits. He forgot that the desert was just as cold as she was hot. Dragons built hothouses, great masses of stone and glass, to keep themselves warm even in the blackness of night. Even men and women who considered themselves hardened by the sun would struggle. Chaceledon found himself burying his toes into the sand for warmth. He held out his arm for Seteta, hoping the cool air would help her.

He kissed her cheek, and smiled reassuringly at her. “Stretch. I’ll give you a massage when we camp for the evening. Warm hands do miracles on torn muscles.” he said quietly.

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

The howdah still held quite a bit of heat, between the afternoon warmth held within the curtains, and their own bodies. When the cooling evening hair swept over her skin as Chaceledon carefully helped her down from the camel's back and onto the sand.

Seteta leaned into his kiss, then looped her arm through his, gently guiding him away from the busy-ness of the caravan as they began to unpack the night's provisions and tend to the camels.

“Stretch. I’ll give you a massage when we camp for the evening. Warm hands do miracles on torn muscles.” he said quietly.

"Your hands tend to do miracles, regardless," she teased mildly. Her steps over the sand were slow and cautious. While the howdah had been far more comfortable than walking all day long or being squished into a saddle with Chaceledon all day long, exposed to the heat and sun as she struggled with the toll from her magic, the downside was now she just felt... stiff.

"I don't think I have any torn muscles, though," she said as they walked. "The best the healers could figure when we finally realized what the toll was for my illusion magic is that... the magic overstimulates the nerves in my fingers, hands, and wrists. There's nothing wrong with them that can be fixed... I just feel too much for a while, if that makes sense."

It wasn't more than half an hour, though, before one of the caravan escorts came to retrieve them, and Seteta sighed with a bit of relief as they stepped inside Supti's tent once more. Kahi and Anai were already there, and platters of food were set out. Seteta made her way over to the other women and kissed each on the cheek.

"Thank you for sparing us your howdah, Anai," she said. "It will make the trip infinitely easier."

Seteta turned to Kahi then, and asked, "Will it be too much to have a tray of food brought to our sleeping quarters again? We are both tired, and I'm afraid we won't be good company."

Kahi hesitated a moment, eyes narrowing as she thought, but nodded. "Supti wants to speak with both of you, when he's finished with his duties for the day, so please stay awake until then," the older wife requested.

Seteta's brow furrowed, but she nodded, and then she was leading Chaceledon back to the same spot where they'd spent the previous night. Kahi and Anai brought some food right behind them, and then made their exit back to the main part of the tent.

They made it through their whole meal, and Seteta was fighting back sleep as valiantly as she could, by the time Supti made his way in.

Her cousin took one look at her and sighed. "I'm sorry to have to delay your rest," he said, taking a seat on the floor next to the nest of cushions and blankets. "But there are some things we need to discuss."

Supti turned to Chaceledon first. "I think I know the nature of your relationship with Persian de Soto, but I want to be certain before I make assumptions. Will you tell me what kind of sway you have with him, and he with you?"

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Chaceledon enjoyed their walk, both steps slow. In a way, this was very draconian. He’d seen how couples were implied by the way they moved across a room together. Slowly and deliberately, with linked arms and eyes only for each other. To dragons, they may as well have been making out on the sand. Chaceledon was more than happy to slow his long-legged stride and simply enjoy her company. “Ah, in that case a massage might work against you. Nothing for it but to lounge and cuddle.” he joked, lifting her palm so he could kiss her.

They visited Supti’s wives again, and Seteta requested a tray of food. Chaceledon ignored most of it, though he indulged himself in a little bit of date. Seteta needed most of it. Chaceledon just didn’t want to eat in front of Anai and Kahi, and delicately took tiny bites of the fruit. He was making his way through a second date, and Seteta looked about ready to collapse in the sand, when Supti walked in. Chaceledon put his food down and weighed the question carefully.

What were he and Persian? Friends, definitely. Oor at times couldn’t be arsed to be present during the entirety of a pairing, and had Chaceledon stay in the Lion House until it was confirmed. That left Chaceledon very little to do other than make sure the Volker concerned got to an appointment every day. Or when they were there for Auction, they usually stayed in the Centre Wheel, Persian’s private residence. He’d slept with the man a few times, quite possibly as an attempt to instigate something between Persian and Oor. How honest did he want to be with Supti?

He rubbed at his itching eyes. “I’m close friends with the man because of my captor. While I don’t approve of...everything he does, I can hardly condemn a fae doing what’s within his nature.” he said carefully. “He doesn’t know anything about Seteta.” That was squeaking close to a lie. The man knew she had gifts with crystals and had already offered her a collar. He at least had a passing interest in her skills. “And...we may have slept together at some point..”

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

Seteta leaned heavily into Chaceledon's side as Supti began to speak, focusing her strength on staying awake and coherent instead of staying upright.

“I’m close friends with the man because of my captor. While I don’t approve of...everything he does, I can hardly condemn a fae doing what’s within his nature.” he said carefully. “He doesn’t know anything about Seteta.”

Seteta nervously bit at her lip with that statement, casting a glance at Supti. Her cousin met her gaze unflinchingly, but she didn't interrupt Chaceledon. At his last statement, though, she did pull back and give him a look, her brow arching almost perfectly synchronized and identical to Supti's expression.

“And...we may have slept together at some point..”

Supti sighed and rubbed his forehead. "That will be for you and Seteta to discuss," he said, and then his tone turned sharp and biting as he turned his gaze back to Chaceledon. "But there are plenty of fae who do not obsess over capturing Abtati and breeding them for future generations of slaves, so I think there might be some room for judgement."

Chaceledon had not truly answered his questions, but he'd given enough information that Supti could deduce a good portion of what he wanted to know.

Seteta was not, in all honesty, surprised that Chaceledon had slept with Persian. She was more surprised that Oor had permitted it, but that would be a discussion for later. Probably not tonight, but definitely before they reached Annuakat.

"There is some history to the Inizae that you are not yet aware of," Supti said, turning his attention to Seteta now. Some of it he would still be leaving out now. There was certain information that Chaceledon was not privy to until he was part of the Inizae tribe. Even what Supti would convey now... it was unusual for someone outside the tribe to be told the story.

"Many, many generations ago, so long ago that it is almost impossible for us to reckon the time," Supti's gaze flickered to Chaceledon for a moment, "but possibly within your dragon's lifetime, the Inizae were almost destroyed. We did not used to always inhabit the sands near Oox-meqtwl," Supti paused, then translated the term for Chaceledon before continuing, "Oox-meqtwl is what we've always called the Forbidden City. Before that, we lived closer to the arable regions around Annuakat and the great rivers.

"Then, one day, someone came. At first, he tried to convince the Abtati to give up some of their children in exchange for other things. Magic, favors, wealth. Most refused. But somewhere along the way..."

Seteta listened in quiet horror as her cousin spoke, relaying a darker history to some of the stories she'd heard as a child. Of powerful magic--their geomancy, not quite like any other geomancy used by most Abtati--discovered and coveted, of raids by slavers, until with barely any of the Inizae tribe and their children remaining, they fled deep into the desert, but as they fled they captured one of the slavers, and finally learned that it wasn't just random raids, but there was a single person behind it all--Persian de Soto.

"The Inizae spent several generations rebuilding themselves, and having limited contact with the outside world, learning to rely on the desert and only reaching out to a limited number of other tribes when there was something they needed that they couldn't make or grow for themselves. Eventually, they thought it was safe to re-emerge, but fate worked against them.

"Within a month, Persian had found them again, and this time the tribe's priests and priestesses sought Abtatu's wisdom. They fled even deeper into the desert, far past Oox-meqtwl, into the sands where even the most experienced guides rarely dared to tread. Abtatu led them to an oasis, where no human or Abtati had ever before stepped foot. In that protected place, the Inizae began to seek out a way to protect themselves--their children--from Persian and his ambitions.

"They knew they would not be able to remain isolated forever, but the power the Inizae tribe possesses is not one that can just carelessly fall into a slaver's hands. Abtatu eventually led them to a solution--a way to prevent the power from being carelessly passed down. I do not know all the details," Supti said, seeing the question already forming itself on Seteta's face. "Your mother would know more. But the essence of it is that Persian is why the Inizae cannot bear children without taking a bonded mate. Whether male or female, no matter their age, the high priest or priestess of the tribe is the only one who can perform the ritual to undo that binding."

Seteta was pale and dizzy by the time Supti finished speaking. "He might know, now," she whispered. "I told his... personal pet" --she didn't know what else to call Kennedi right then, but she hated the words in her mouth-- "that the women of my tribe couldn't bear children before they'd taken a bonded mate. I... didn't realize it was everyone, though."

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Chaceledon listened, and his stomach twisted. He’d heard of this. Gods, what was ancient history for them...he’d been there. He was utterly silent, but his mind was already filling in the details. They’d treated it like a game. They weren’t there when Persian had attempted bargaining with the Inizae, but then the popularity of Abtati slaves among the dragons grew. A pet trained in lapidary, with ties to the earth stronger than even the dragons’ own, was invaluable. Chaceledon remembered how his dahn had spent thousands of gold on Inizae, and three in particular had worked for Hokkaido until they’d passed from old age.

Demand grew, and Chaceledon distinctly remembered Hokkaido putting his own Abtati against the pets of other dahns. Things like grading spinel, or Diamond, or guessing the correct mineral hidden in a shield of molten slag. The failing pet was cut out of the breeding program, the winning one was offered as a pairing to Persian. Like horses who performed well in dressage. Demand grew, and Persian began not to ask, but to take.

Now he was hearing the other side of it. His dahn, and other gem specialist dahns, had driven the Inizae far across the desert, until they had done something drastic. The priestesses were the only ones who could remove the bond. Was this why? Persian was breeding them from old lines before that particular curse. Pets who had likely never stepped free from that city.

His family was why Seteta couldn’t have children with him. Now Persian knew about it, and he would do everything in his power to shred that spell to pieces. Seteta may have just put that industry in motion again.

Chaceledon felt sick. “And which dahn purchased all those Inizae..? Which dahn do you know specializes in gemstone and rock so much they named their children for it?” he whispered raggedly, looking at Seteta.

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

Despite the physical pain, Seteta reached out, setting her hand over Chaceledon's.

She wouldn't say it wasn't his fault. She had no way to know at that moment if he'd played a direct role in all of that or not, but what she did know was that he was not the same then as he was now.

"Why didn't anyone say anything?" she asked Supti. "Why didn't mut warn me of Persian? Have any of the others been warned? This should have been something shared when our tribe dispersed."

"I don't know," Supti answered, sighing as he dragged his hands over his face. "Perhaps, especially in your case, they thought it was highly unlikely that you'd encounter him. You were heading out of the desert, after all.

"Did you tell him what tribe you were from?" Supti asked at last.

Seteta shook her head. "I did not... but what little I did say may have been enough for him to figure it out. And I'm sure he's eager for... new blood." She barked out a dark laugh. "Dear Abtatu what have I done? Hopefully, at least, the fact that our people have dispersed will make it harder for him to find anyone but me."

Supti didn't answer that. Seteta was, truly, the absolute last of the Inizae that Persian should get his hands on, but that would have little bearing on their conversation now.

"I'm sorry to put something so heavy on you right now," Supti said as he stood. "Please... try to get some rest."

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Chaceledon ran a hand down his face. "Do you know what could have happened if Persian got ahold of her before she met me?" he asked quietly. "You really should have told her." He rubbed his fingers across her hand, nervously. Persian would have figured it out on the road back to Pedeo, he was sure of it. What the man was going to do with that information, he didn't know. It could be anything. He could throw his weight behind breaking the curse, but if it was truly from a god he would need the luck of the devil to-

He put his other hand in his pocket and pulled out the tiny golden bird. He looked at it more closely. The enchantment slid around his vision, like he couldnt truly focus on it. Like it was trying to prevent him from looking too closely. "Gods damn them both!" The little golden bird hissed and melted in his hand, the enchantment shattering.

Persian must have gotten to Rosebury first, and cashed in a little favor for luck. The luck of the devil to find them, and he'd gotten it in the form of a little favor. Persian knew where at least four Inizae were now. Chaceledon looked at Supti. "He knows where we are. If you see a man following us within the next few days, a tall fellow with a parasol, I need to speak with him." He told Supti. "He pulled a favor with the Lord of Luck, and I tried to do the same. Apparently he got to him first, and cashed in a favor. He's been tracking us since Maraan."

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

"It wasn't his fault," Seteta murmured as Chaceledon chastised Supti. "He wasn't there when I made the choice to head out on my own."

She watched curiously as he brought out the little golden bird, and flinched as it melted away in his hand.

"He knows where we are. If you see a man following us within the next few days, a tall fellow with a parasol, I need to speak with him." He told Supti. "He pulled a favor with the Lord of Luck, and I tried to do the same. Apparently he got to him first, and cashed in a favor. He's been tracking us since Maraan."

"Well," Supti took a breath, "it wasn't like our route was secret, nor the date of our departure. The show you two put on ensured that. I'll alert the guards to be watching for this man with a parasol."

And with that, Supti stepped out of the room and left the two of them alone.

Seteta sighed wearily, her mind spinning with exhaustion, pain, and the unexpected things she'd learned about her tribe. "That was... not what I expected," she said tiredly.

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Chaceledon was at least relieved that Supti wasn't angry with him, but he felt guilty. He had been the one who let them know exactly where they were, after all. He'd just assumed the golden bird had been for him, and with fae, one assumed approximately nothing. He reformed the gold into a ball for later use; it was only metal now. He tucked it back into his pocket and looked at Seteta wearily. He was in no physical condition to do anything about it tonight, and neither was Seteta.

"Come on darling. Let's go to bed. We can figure out what to do in the morning." he said gently. He offered her a hand up. He wanted nothing more than to cuddle with her until he was ready to shed. They were both exhausted and rough, and Chaceledon would have sold his eyeteeth for a bath. He sighed and helped support her. "I'm sorry. I should have known better...and I'm sorry about your family. I know my dahn is at least partially responsible."

He was fairly baffled that Seteta wasn't screaming and demanding that he never show his face around her family again. Her capacity for forgiveness, and measured thinking, far outstripped his own. What had he done lately to deserve her? He made a mental note to try and stuff himself at breakfast to make her happy.

_________________________________________________

In the morning, he did exactly that. He ate a full breakfast, slowly as to avoid angering his stomach. Thankfully he didnt feel nauseous, but rather more full of energy than he had in a very long time. Before they got moving, he did notice a man in a loudly colored suit hovering at the edge of the camp, a bright orange parasol over one shoulder. He sighed, and squinted through the ecdysis fog at him. Oscar Viotto, Rosebury's agent. Following them because he'd broken the bird, no doubt.

Chaceledon nodded to the zombie, who tipped his hat at him in return. Oscar would have no trouble keeping up with them, not with an undead man's stamina. Chaceledon gently took Seteta's hand and pointed him out.

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

Seteta wasn't sure what to think, not after all of that, but she'd long grappled with the fact that Chaceledon was not... good, necessarily, before she knew him, and especially when he was young. Part of her wanted to hold him accountable for things he may have done or said, especially things that may have affected not just her family, but her tribe's history... but then when would it end?

She loved him. Not the him of the past, the him of the present, the one who tenderly held her, who braved returning to his captor to rescue her... the one who, contrary to his entire culture, was willing to admit that he owed his former lover an apology.

No matter what he had done in the past, she knew he was not the same now. But most of all... she was exhausted. Mentally, emotionally, and physically, and she knew better than to make any major decisions until she was rested and alert.

So she kissed him softly as they tucked each other into bed, and tried to keep her mind off the dreadful things she'd learned so she could sleep.

---

Seteta smiled to herself, and didn't make much comment, at the amount of food Chaceledon ate at breakfast. At one point, she almost held him back, but he seemed to be pacing himself well, and his stomach didn't seem to be upset.

Just before he started to help her into the howdah, though, something lingering in the distance caught his attention. As he pointed out the brightly-colored figure, she asked, "Rosebury's man? Would he... be amenable to talking? Persian may not know that Supti is of my tribe yet, and I'd like to keep it that way, if possible."

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Chaceledon raised an eyebrow at the idea of inviting Oscar to talk, and kissed her cheek. “Getting him to shut up is the trick.” he muttered. The howdah didn’t have the room to house both himself and Oscar, but he irritably waved the dead man over anyway. They could talk in the sun for a few minutes; it hadn’t yet reached its zenith and the morning was cool.

Oscar strolled over to them. He was taller than even Chaceledon by a good two inches, just shy of seven feet. He was paunchy, and soft of flesh, indicating good living and not much physical work. His grey eyes were kindly, and he smiled at the pair of them. His pink suit was hideously out of place, but Chaceledon recognized it as being from one of the finer fashion houses in the Winter Court.

“Ah, the salamander returns to smoke and hellfire, to wake and greet the burning sun. You’re well suited to this weather, dear.” Oscar greeted them, and smiled at Seteta. “Ah, but I can see you wilting like a lily. Surely it is not the sun who begs your strength but the very sand to which you swear fealty.” Oscar offered his hand in greeting. If she took it, she would feel a small rush of strange magic from him. Not enough to alleviate her toll entirely, but he did try to aid a bit of her symptoms.

“Oscar...we really don’t want Persian after these people.” Chaceledon said softly.

“My dear shaft of sunlight, it would take days to get here from Pedeo. I’m here on a bit of recognizance.” Oscar said lightly. “The both of you asking my master’s attention...he feels a bit like the eligible woman at a ball.”

“I wanted his help once we reached Annuakat. The wizened undead bastard has my son. I could use all the luck I can get.” Chaceledon muttered.

Oscar tutted at him. “Language, dear.” He chastised. He looked at Seteta. “I wish we had met under better circumstances; would you like some tea cakes?” He asked.

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

"We just talk until the caravan starts to move," Seteta whispered as Chaceledon beckoned the man over. "The need to climb into the howdah will give us a way to exit the conversation."

She gawked just a little, honestly not sure she'd ever seen a human taller than Chaceledon, but returned his smile as Oscar greeted them. His... overly flower speech was strange to decipher, but she glanced at Chaceledon when Oscar offered his hand, and when her lover didn't seem worried, she took it as gracefully as she could with the pain sparking over her skin and through her knuckles.

"It is not the desert that fatigues me, but rather a large working of magic," she said.

At Oscar's touch, though, she felt another magic, something that somehow countered what was lingering in her body, and she found herself taking a deep breath as the pain became... less sharp, though not really less in intensity.

"Thank you," she said, her gratitude evident, as their hands parted.

“Oscar...we really don’t want Persian after these people.” Chaceledon said softly.

“My dear shaft of sunlight, it would take days to get here from Pedeo. I’m here on a bit of recognizance.” Oscar said lightly. “The both of you asking my master’s attention...he feels a bit like the eligible woman at a ball.”

“I wanted his help once we reached Annuakat. The wizened undead bastard has my son. I could use all the luck I can get.” Chaceledon muttered.

Oscar tutted at him. “Language, dear.” He chastised. He looked at Seteta. “I wish we had met under better circumstances; would you like some tea cakes?” He asked.

"I would be glad to have a tea cake," Seteta smiled, "though we've just finished breakfast, so please don't be offended if I don't eat much."

She assumed that Chaceledon would warn her if eating the tea cake was a bad idea, and she gestured to the sand next to their kneeling camel, "Please, sit."

If the Lord of Luck was simply weighing his options, then Seteta would do her damned best to endear his spokesperson to her. "Please forgive Chaceledon's language," she said as she settled cross-legged on the sand in the camel's shadow. "We've been parted with Rheinhard for quite some time, and the last time we saw him he was... unwell. Chaceledon is anxious to see him again and make sure he is well."

She was quiet for a moment, pondering her next words.

"When Chaceledon said that we don't want Persian coming after these people... what he means is that we do not want Persian to connect them to me in any way. I do not ask for any luck of favor for myself, simply that those kind enough to guide us now may continue on their way, with Persian only knowing of them as simple caravan guides, if he has to hear of them at all."

Chaceledon